#I personally use to blame that i was on and off isolated from peers growing up

[whimsyprinx]

I’m like one of those dolls who you record phrases or sentences to and they repeat them back until you change it to something new

[yunsoh]

this moment with yuki stands as a really excellent reminder of where his core socialization struggles started in the series, and shows us where he is currently on his path to healing and better self-esteem.

it’s been a while since we’ve seen how the general student population treats yuki. obviously we’ve gotten the continuation of the prince yuki girls heavily revering him, but we see this still, too, with the rest of his peers -- now also in part because he’s the student council president, but definitely still due to his reputation as the prince. 

this reverence was something that had heavy hand in how he feared being ostracized by his peers, as he was both constantly pushed away from them (above them) because of this false image they had of him, and as he pushed his true self away from them because of his deep social anxiety. he blamed himself for his social standing, simultaneously high and isolating, and believed that any positive traits people viewed him as were fraudulent --

“And I still can’t associate with ‘normal’ people. I don’t mean to turn them away, but some part of me can’t deal with people. I cut myself off from other people because I’m afraid of getting hurt, and because I’m [cursed]… I’m only being nice because I want people to like me… My being nice is entirely selfish.” (ch. 4)

now, as he nears the end of his arc, there’s a visible shift in his character. he’s done a lot of inner work and growth in order to deal with his social anxiety and his self-esteem, and at this point no longer feels isolated or lonely as he did at the start of his story. the isolation he experiences in this scene specifically, while similar to how he was isolated by his peers at the beginning of the story, takes a different color: his self-blame has diminished considerably, in part because he has a social group that knows him as himself, and in part because he doesn’t feel as though he’s faking himself or his kindness around his peers anymore. 

there’s still some sadness as his offers for help get denied and he ends up patrolling alone -- while he’s able to look down at this group of friends from afar with some fondness, it’s tinged with something a little bittersweet. he’s experiencing this scenario once again, but from a different and better place in his life. this bout of being alone, while it no longer conflates with loneliness, is still somewhat of a tender spot for him because of how this scenario previously played out for him in the not-so-distant past.

now that he isn’t self-loathing about his social anxiety, though, there is a part of his self-esteem that isn’t quite realized yet: viewing himself as someone worthy of befriending because of what he can offer.

this ties thematically with his offers of help being declined, but also with the climax of his character arc in season two -- he doesn’t want to just be someone who receives the benefits of being in a relationship, but someone who can give just as much back. while he was speaking about romantic relationships specifically, this extends to his closest friendships as well. we see him carry a lot of guilt over not being able to give as much back to people like tohru and haru, and is later revealed to be entirely unaware of what he offers in his friendship with kakeru, who considers his friendship with yuki to be the reason why he was able to grow into a better person.

he no longer contends with doubts that people want to be friends with him at all -- it’s been proven to him that people can see the real him and still want to be friends with him, even if he doesn’t necessarily like himself. his issue at this stage in his story is if he has anything to offer, as an individual, that would have others seek him out.

this ties back to his earlier insecurities revolving around kyo and kakeru, and even ties to how he views tohru -- these are people who seem to emit a warmth that others are naturally attracted to. he doesn’t believe the same is true for himself, and while it’s not a point of distress for him anymore, it’s not something he’s entirely grappled with. though he’s more secure in his close relationships with tohru, kakeru, and haru (versus how he felt about his role in these relationships earlier on), he does still wish to be a friend that is sought out specifically. 

this scene where he finds himself alone, his help having been denied because of his dual role as the student council president and the school prince, and feeling somewhat like an outsider again as he observes a group of friends having fun, leaves him feeling acutely aware of this current dilemma he’s having. it’s only when machi runs into him, and tells him she’s been running around trying to find him just to say hello, that this insecurity is momentarily shattered for him. 

[an aside: this issue is never fully addressed in the narrative. while it’s a natural progression in his journey through his social issues and self-esteem to understand how important he actually is in his relationships, the way that it’s concluded offers an awkward commentary on how he views his role in these relationships, which up until this point is the primary focus of his narrative. rather than going the route of becoming more secure in his relationships without needing overt confirmation that his friendship is beneficial, the story instead decides to go the route of him becoming so enamored with being sought out specifically -- by a girl who has no other relationships she feels she can confidently turn to, no less -- that he eventually conflates this with being romantically in love with her, and never returns to address this insecurity he still feels within his friendships. it’s a thread that’s lost in the midst of takaya wanting to wrap up his story with a romance that had very little foundation for the sake of having him have a “happy” ending, i.e. an ending with a romance, despite his narrative being about finding happiness in strong and trusting platonic relationships.]

machi is still a new friend to him at this point, and one that he’s been friendly towards since they started working together. while she’s only just started to warm up to him, his offers of friendship and general kindness towards her never hinged on whether he believed she would eventually become friends with him. he was kind to her for kindness’ sake, especially since she was someone who was otherwise intensely reserved, unsocial, and lonely. 

this sounds like an obvious statement because yuki is, on the whole, a kind person, but again: he once believed that he only extended kindness in order to be liked in return. at the beginning of the series, he couldn’t differentiate between him lacking boundaries in order to be people-pleasing, and him being genuinely kind. now that he does understand his own boundaries (as a result of respecting himself more + healing his self-esteem), the kindness he extends is very much of his own unselfish volition. 

that said, his kindness is something he acts on without consciously thinking of its benefits -- he doesn’t do kind things in order to receive something in return, or because he expects that his kindness is going to be the singular thing that helps someone. frankly put, he’s not arrogant. but this also means that when someone does overtly show that his kindness has had an effect on them, it catches him off-guard. (i say overtly because yuki’s kindness has had a deep effect on kakeru, too, but it’s very plainly stated that yuki doesn’t know this because kakeru never tells him directly.) machi chasing after him just to say hello isn’t just a sudden leap in their friendship, after she’s more or less appeared to not want to be emotionally involved with her place in the student council -- it’s a direct outcome of him consistently reaching out to her even when she didn’t react or respond. she’s seeking him out individually because he holds that same warmth that he was previously so wanting of. 

and he has that warmth because he’s overtly, genuinely kind. that kindness that he previously thought of as being selfish is the benefit he’s doubtful that he possesses as a friend. the very thing that he thought he faked only to get other people to like him is the foundation for why others seek him out and love him -- because from the very start, his kindness has been real.

[knickynoo]

Do you have any thoughts on Marty and his self esteem issues? In most of the trilogy, I feel like Marty ranges from experience a lot of insecurity at best, to like a considerable amount of self loathing at worst, (like pls Marty, Doc getting struck by lighting was not your fault? You’re not Thor?) . And there’s the whole chicken thing, so I was curious if you had any thoughts on where it stems from, how it’s affected him etc etc? Okay lmao that’s it, have a great day !!

Hello! Do I have thoughts?? Yes. I do.

So, one of the things I like so much about Marty as a character is that...he's kind of an enigma of sorts? Like. Here's this kid who skateboards, rocks that denim jacket and the cool sunglasses, plays guitar, has a pretty girlfriend, etc. You take all of that, and it should reflect a really confident, popular person. I mean, with all the stereotypical "cool guy" attributes considered, Marty should have Ferris Bueller-level confidence and charm. He should be strutting around, smooth-talking everyone, laughing in the face of danger, and possessing unshakeable self-esteem. But he does/has none of those things because, as we all know, Marty is A Mess (affectionate). And yeah, a lot of it seems to stem from self-esteem issues, which we do see sprinkled throughout the trilogy. Where's it all coming from? Well, a lot of places, most likely...

• FAMILY: Probably the biggest factor. Though I'm sure George and Lorraine were sincerely in love for a while at the beginning of their relationship/marriage, I think it's fair to assume that any real spark between them had pretty much fizzled out by the time Marty came along or when he was a young kid. Take a loveless relationship between a meek, subservient man and a woman who drinks away her feelings, factor in a 17-year-old boy who's probably never had any real semblance of parental stability in his house, and it's highly likely that kid is going to have some issues. It's really difficult to believe in yourself & feel secure when the norm is having parents who are wrapped up in their own worlds/rarely interact with each other, seeing your father get emotionally (& physically!) pushed around by his supervisor, and watching your mom cling to alcohol and sink into depression.

• Plus, there are the separate relationships George and Lorraine have with Marty. Granted, we don't see much of it, but what we see at dinner is probably a good example of a typical interaction. George is quick to steer Marty away from any situation where he may face rejection or hardship. And yeah, he may think he's protecting his son, but this strategy is actually pretty harmful. I can imagine that any time Marty is feeling nervous or let down, and goes to his father seeking encouragement, he's only left with the impression that it's better not to take any risks at all because he might fail anyway. Instead of being built up, any potential self-worth is being chipped away at by George.

And as far as Lorraine is concerned, I get the impression that she's (more often than not) critical and judgemental of Marty. She's not shy about airing her strong dislike for Jennifer, during which Marty stays completely silent and unresponsive. Perhaps Marty's general default around his mom is silence, due to him having learned a long while back that he's better off keeping his mouth shut. I can see Lorraine lecturing Marty often, picking apart every little flaw she may see in him (friends, grades, attitude, etc.), especially when she's had too many drinks and especially when you consider that Marty is probably her most "difficult" child. Sad as it may sound, I can't picture Marty walking away from very many interactions with his mother feeling good about himself.

• GENERAL ANXIETY/NEURODIVERGENCY: Marty is an easily flustered, anxious guy. And whether that stems from his home environment or genetics (I mean, look at George), I don't know. But he definitely seems to be a sort of nervous, hesitant kid, particularly in the first movie. I also, like most of the fandom, headcanon Marty as having ADHD. And like...if that's the case for him, it certainly isn't helping at all with the self-esteem stuff. He's written off as a slacker at school, told he'll never amount to anything, and probably struggles a lot to keep up in his classes and survive in an environment that almost definitely doesn't offer any form of support or accommodations. That would be a big blow to his self-worth as well.

People with ADHD also tend to be very critical of themselves, worry about what others think of them, and have a hard time with rejection. Hence, the one rejection at the audition followed by, I'm just a big, stupid failure and I'll never ever be good enough. My world is crumbling, I should just give up everything forever =(((

(What do you mean those weren't his exact words??)

• BONUS: Marty might also face a decent amount of social isolation/teasing due to his friendship with Doc, which would take a toll on confidence too. Also, I just...don't think that Marty has many friends??

When you take all the above factors, Marty's self-esteem issues make a lot of sense and, if not for Doc, would probably run a lot deeper than what we see in the trilogy. ALSO!

• Marty blaming himself for Doc getting hit by lightning in the DeLorean: I've seen a few people comment on this and how they think it's ridiculous that Marty felt guilty but...it's always made a lot of sense to me, actually. No, Marty didn't cause the lightning, but he did set off the chain of events that led to Doc being there at that moment. If he'd had the inner strength/self-control to walk away from Biff outside of the dance, he could have just joined Doc on the roof with the almanac and they'd have been on their merry way. And even if Biff had continued to challenge him, or even followed him, Marty likely could have created a diversion or gotten an adult at the dance to help and still made it up to the roof before the worst of the storm hit. But because he couldn't stand being called a chicken, he ended up taking a door to the face, had the book stolen back, and had to go on that little side adventure to retrieve it, which led to Doc needing to save him. So yeah, I'm actually team Marty on this one. His choice did lead to Doc being catapulted into the Old West, lol. I'd have been consumed with guilt too.

• The Chicken Thing: I'm not going to go into too much detail (HA!) because this is already ridiculously long, but I will say that I don't go by the more popular headcanon that says Marty's sudden inability to handle being challenged is due to the updated timeline taking effect and "altering" him. Essentially, that Marty growing up with a confident, successful father made him have higher expectations put on him, and so he was always striving to prove he could live up to them.

I actually don't think any ripples from the new timeline catch up to Marty yet during the course of the trilogy. (I tend to headcanon that as happening gradually in the coming weeks and months after he gets home). Instead, I think that Marty's inclination towards becoming feral at the words "chicken", "yellow", etc. is because of his life in his original timeline. Growing up with a jellyfish for a father, it makes sense that Marty would want to distance himself as much as possible from being associated with weakness. He'd want to prove himself that much more because everyone around him would probably think he's just like his cowardly old man.

And though I know it's not really possible (because they weren't planning on a 2nd or 3rd movie), I think a case can be made that there's a glimpse of the "chicken thing" in the first movie, in the scene of Marty and Lorraine in the car at the dance. I mean, he gets all upset and tells her not to drink, but then she calls him a square, uses the classic peer-pressure tactic of, everyone's doing it, and he caves instantly and takes a swig. Could be because he doesn't want to be thought of as a square, or could be because he's desperate to calm his nerves a bit. Either way, Marty doesn't seem to fare too well when challenged or put under pressure, so I lump this scene in as a "chicken" moment.

I...need to stop. I set out to write a quick response to this. Like, a paragraph or two. But this question activated Hyperfocus Mode, and I blinked and now it's 2 hours after I started and I have AN ESSAY.

Thanks for the ask! *goes to lie down*

[bookofmirth]

I haven't read ACOSF yet, and tbh I'm rather rusty with the characters but it was really interesting to read your opinion on Elain! I feel there's a lot of complexity to her. And how she presents herself as well because as you said we literally have no chapters from hers or Lucien's POV and I think that's the important point to note because right now we're all just guessing and assuming her to be like Feyre, but she's not. People deal/show their traumas in different way and l think people expect Elain to deal with it as Feyre did. But, Feyres trauma and Elains are very different!

I don't really know what I'm saying. But I read your answer and it made me go 'oh... Huh!' in a good way, it sparked my curiosity! So thank you! But I think Elain perhaps is the most complex person with their trauma. I know people say 'oh Nesta is so different' but (I specialised in drama therapy so I love psycho analysis) and what Nesta did is self destructive to prevent relationships to avoid hurt or more emotions that she doesn't want to acknowledge (in my opinion!)

Elain just shuts down. She doesn't drink, she doesn't screw, she just remains in her garden which in itself says a lot! That's a very grounding way to handle trauma and not a lot of people are aware of that side!

So yeah I don't know what I'm saying but I think it's a really interesting discussion!

I have so many thoughts about Elain! This took me a few days to get to because i knew I had a crapton of thoughts. So this is basically me using this ask to explain the way I see Elain post-acosf!

There are three important scenes in acosf off the top of my head: when Elain talks with Nesta and they fight, and then with Nesta and Feyre and she gets mad and leaves, and then Feyre and Rhys talk about her in their chapter. We’re getting a lot more information about her, and for me, it wasn’t so much about who she is, but why we don’t know who she is.

So far, what we’ve had is Feyre’s and Nesta’s POV. Even when Feyre and Lucien tried to help her in acowar, they were unable. So we’ve never had anything about Elain from someone who didn’t grow up with her and experience the same trauma (such as becoming destitute, their mother’s death, their father being beaten, the Cauldron, etc.)

The sisters do handle it very, very differently. And I think that at this point the fandom consensus is that Elain runs away from her problems, but I actually disagree, and partly because of what you mentioned - that she isn’t using those self-harming, destructive coping mechanisms. Nesta was avoiding her problems, hardcore. It’s absolutely possible that Elain avoids things, but I don’t think that she just runs from all of her problems because:

Elain grieves her father. Openly. She tries to accept the fact that it wasn’t her fault and that she couldn’t do anything about it. (See: her going to his grave in acofas, her first talk with Nesta in acosf.) Elain does not run from her grief, she doesn’t pretend it doesn’t exist, and she doesn’t hide it from others. As one of the most defining events we’ve seen her go through in the series, that’s a pretty big deal.

Elain does not cling to unhealthy coping mechanisms. There could be ways that she does this that we are unaware of. She does seem like the type who would be really, really good at making people think she’s okay, all while she’s silently imploding. But we don’t know that yet?

Elain does not isolate herself. 

However, Elain definitely needs to deal with some stuff! She definitely needs to deal with Lucien, and she needs to have an actual talk with Nesta because I don’t remember a single satisfying resolution between those two in acosf. Not like Nesta had with Feyre. 

I have this idea that is purely based on Elain’s line in acosf:

“I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow, all you think of is what my trauma did to you.” (pg. 233)

And then Feyre tells Nesta that yes, Elain was right. 

This is so so so sossosososos important. I cannot emphasize it enough. Elain is used to putting on a fake, smiling face because she doesn’t want the weight of her sisters’ concern. She has been pretending to cope for so long - and tbf, she seems to have been doing better than Nesta - that people not only forget that she has suffered, but she doesn’t feel like she can even express that suffering.

Emotional labor often means negating one’s own feelings in order to acknowledge or tend to someone else’s. And that is Elain’s major role, in the series. Feyre has been caring for everyone’s physical wellbeing (hunting), while Elain’s role has been to care for everyone’s emotional wellbeing. But, like with most emotional labor, it has gone unnoticed.

I’ve made posts about emotional labor in the past (four years ago!!!!) but I’m gonna spare you the link because a lot of it was about a ship that’s no longer a ship, so here is the relevant content:

What I am talking about is the regulation of emotion - any time that you give comfort, are especially attentive to someone’s needs, stop thinking about how you feel in order to focus on how someone else feels, try to cheer someone up, make sure that they are taking care of themselves, try to allay their insecurities, etc. Basically, helping them with any sort of emotional distress.

You know those posts you’ve seen, about women protecting men’s egos constantly? Or about making time for self-care? Or about recognizing toxic relationships? That tell you “if X is being demanded of you in a relationship, get out”? Those are ALL about emotional labor, broadly speaking. They are warning you not to do more than you can handle, more than you need to do, because it can be harmful to you.

If you have ever been expected to make a person or people feel better any time you are around each other (including when they are angry, upset, anxious, ill, frustrated, insecure, etc.), you have performed emotional labor. Pretty much everyone has done this at some point, unless you are a completely insensitive jerk.

Notice, though, that I said expected to and any time you are around them – this is where the problem comes in for YOU. This is not about just being there for a friend.

Making loved ones feel better is fantastic. Seeing people be polite and kind to one another makes my heart shine. That is not a problem in and of itself. That can be seen as emotional labor, but there are no requirements on you in those circumstances. This is something you are doing of your own free will.

The problem, again, is when this is expected, constantly, over time. Now, in my experience, the expectation is not necessarily coming from the other person. One of the problems with this type of labor is that not only do others expect women to perform these tasks, but women expect it of themselves.

It’s super easy to see this – who is expected to take care of a child when they fall? Who is expected to baby-sit? Who did you want when you were sick as a child, mom or dad? Who is expected to be sensitive and pay attention to others’ emotions?

For more info on this idea specifically, read Of Woman Born by Adrienne Rich. As a woman, I realized how much work I had been performing and how much it was harming me and I just… got real upset. She comes at this mostly from what a woman’s role is expected to be within the family, and might actually be a bit outdated in that respect because I feel like family structures and dynamics are shifting (that is a totally un-academic evaluation of the situation, don’t quote me on that), but still, it’s really informative.

While I was doing some research for this post I came across a peer-reviewed article about nursing and basically, high amounts of emotional labor led to anxiety and burn-out in those performing it. It literally will cost your mental health – not to mention your time, energy, attention, and it often requires you to ignore your own needs (this last part came from me, not the article). On the other hand, high levels of emotional intelligence (being able to recognize your own and others’ emotional states) meant less emotional labor (and therefore less anxiety & burn-out). One of the most important things to realize is that while you are taking care of someone else’s emotional needs, your own are frequently unmet. That is why it’s important to recognize this in yourself, not just in these characters.

So where does Elain fit in? Elain is the #1 emotional labor provider of the family, and she is about to freaking SNAP. I know, because once I realized how my trauma was hidden in order to spare someone else its consequences, I fucking SNAPPEd. I’ll also spare you the personal details, but Elain hasn’t been “okay”. She hasn’t been “boring”, or “nice”, or “chosen” Feyre over Nesta. She has literally been unable to express herself because (and I am NOT blaming Nesta or Feyre or her father one bit) her family’s emotional state has been so fragile, there hasn’t been room for Elain to feel or express her emotions in years. 

In the feysand short, Rhys says:

I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she’d disappoint you all.

And that completely tracks. Everyone has gotten used to Elain being not just “nice”, but being the emotionally predictable one. The one they know they can go to for a smile. The one they can count on for never, ever making them realize that she has been through Some Shit Too. And being that person is exhausting.

When Feyre thinks about Elain not using Lucien’s gloves, 1) she still has them, otherwise she couldn’t think about Elain not using them, and 2) I like to see the gloves as something that she will come to use, once she realizes that she can feel and express those emotions without it causing a breakdown in the family. Right now, she just wants to feel. And she can’t do that emotionally, so she’s doing it physically. Once she heals and finds a better balance, she won’t need to resort to physical pain. (Which, lowkey has me thinking some other thoughts, but.... maybe later.) But anyway, once Elain does go through her very own special journey, I fully expect her to welcome those gloves. She won’t need physical pain to feel anymore.

Not to mention my completely unacademic and non-professional opinion that people will judge a nice women harshly for being rude once, but accept a woman with a history of rudeness for just “being that way”. It’s another way that Elain may feel trapped in her “nice girl” persona. I think she started out that way - kindness and light and generosity is 100% in Elain’s character in the first place. It’s not as if she went into the Court of Nightmares and suddenly Cassian thought, “wait, she fits right in to this shithole of depravity”. No, he still thought the literal opposite. It’s just that once people get used to you doing all their emotional labor, they will continue to take advantage of it, even if they don’t realize its cost.

[asian-hero]

The Words I Desperately Want to Say

A/N: Hi I just had a cute lil idea that I wanted to put out into the universe with my favorite boy, Shouto

Saying the “L” word is hard

In all honest, be prepared for a lot of fics because I really wanna distract myself from the dumpster fire that is uni :)

Summary: While Shouto knows that you love him with all of your heart, he wonders if he’s truly good enough for a person like you? After all, how can he be worth all the trouble if he can’t even say what he desperately wants to tell you?

Words: 3,463

“I love you.”

In theory, the phrase itself shouldn’t be hard to say. It’s simply a string of words connected together in order to convey a message to another person. All words, in essence, don’t hold any meaning, but instead humans enforce what each words means and how you should use it. So, simply saying “I love you” shouldn’t be hard.

However, for Todoroki Shouto, it was as if those words threatened to strangle him. 

The idea of love had been tainted for him at a young age. His father, who was supposed to love him and his siblings unconditionally, had isolated him and put his body through a level of physical abuse that no child should endure. The man who was supposed to help nurture and teach him about life had taught him that love was a disease, that only the weakest should succumb to it. His mother, the woman who was supposed to protect him, had left him with a large scar on the left side of his face, and an even bigger one on his heart. Though, he would never blame him for it, after all, those who he loved would eventually see him as a monster. 

That’s why, when Shouto first had entered his relationship with you, he was so terrified of what would happen if he let himself be vulnerable, if he let you see the side of him that he didn’t usually show anyone. He wondered if you’d leave him like his mother, if you’d push him away just as his father forced him away from his siblings. There were many times in the beginning of your relationship where Shouto refrained from holding you, whether it be a small gesture of linking your pinkies, or wrapping his arms around your frame. He was afraid that he’d scare you off, that it was too soon to ask for those things. So, for quite a while, he’d simply stand beside you, his hands inching ever so close to yours, but never making the first move. He was eternally grateful for the moment when you had caught his hesitant actions, even if he was embarrassed in the moment, and rather than questioning him about his actions, you instead intertwined your fingers together, going back to whatever you were doing with a small smile on your face.

He didn’t realize how that simple action would make his heart speed up, nor did he realize that it would open the wound in his heart that he thought was gone.

After that first interaction, Shouto makes more of an effort to be near you. If possible, he’ll hold your hand, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. If you two are separating, whether it be for a few hours or a few weeks, he always makes sure to wrap you tightly in his arms, his face buried in your neck as a plea for you not to leave nearly leaves his lips, but he forces it back. Every single time, you wrap your arms around him just as tightly, pressing a soft kiss to his temple as you promise him that you’ll be back soon. Sometimes, when he’s lucky, he’ll be able to hear your light laughter filling the air, with a teasing remark spoken by his ear.

“You’re acting as if I’m leaving for a year,” You said, a smirk playing on your lips, “I’ll be gone for an hour max.”

“Still too long,” He mumbles, burying his face further into your warmth.

The first time you tell him you love him he freezes. You two are cooking together, attempting to make some dessert you saw online, even though neither of you are necessarily the best of chefs. Teasing remarks are exchanged, as are soft glances and loving actions. While Shouto is trying to cut up some strawberries without cutting off his own finger, you stand back, admiring the look of determination on his face. It almost makes you laugh, with how delicate he’s being with the fruit. When he finally finishes his first one, he looks back at you for a comment, he finds himself surprised at the fact that you’re already looking at him. He clears his throat, ignoring the flustered feeling in the pit of his stomach as he gestures towards the fruit before him.

“So?” He says, not quite meeting your eyes, “Is this okay?”

A giggle escapes your lips, an amused look on your face. “You took five minutes to cut one strawberry?”

As he nods his head, your small giggles turn into a full blown cackle, and Shouto can’t help but wonder what’s so funny. Though, he does like hearing you laugh, so he supposes it’s okay to not know.

However, nothing could’ve prepared him for what was coming out of your mouth next:

“You’re such a dork,” You sighed, placing a hand on lower back, “You’re lucky I love you and your slow ass,”

Though you hadn’t meant to make a big deal out of it, Shouto felt his entire body freeze in place, his mouth suddenly becoming dry. If you noticed the change in his attitude, you didn’t pay any attention to it, instead taking over the cutting duties, mentioning something about how you’d be there for decades if you let him continue, but he wasn’t really sure. 

A million thoughts were rushing through his mind. Should he say it back? Of course, he loved you with every fiber of his being, but what would happened if he said it back? If he didn’t say it, would you think he doesn’t love you? Were you just saying it as a joke, and he’s taking it too literally? He wasn’t sure what to do, but before he could even settle on one train of thought, you turned back towards him, that same smile he fell in love with resting upon your face.

“Are you just going to stand there and let me do all the work?” You pouted, though he could hear the teasing lit behind it, “I thought we were a team,”

With that, he simply snapped himself out of his thoughts, pushing your words to the back of his mind as he gave you a shaky smile, nodding his head.

After that first time, he noticed how you’d say you love him more and more often.

If he was leaving for a patrol, you’d pop your head out from wherever you were and tell him that you love him. Even whenever he did something stupid, or the two of you were goofing around, you’d tell him just how much you love him in between your fits of laughter. Every time you said those three words, he’d feel his heart soar and his stomach drop at the same time. 

Every time you’d tell him “I love you” he’d freeze up, and even though he desperately wanted to reciprocate, he found his throat closing up, his hands shaking ever so slightly. Even though he never said it back, you still continued to say it, and that was a fact that both made him elated and upset at the same time. You never said anything about him staying silent, but he wondered if you were truly okay with it. Whenever you’d say those three words he’d wonder if you expected something from him, if you were waiting for him to say it back. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want to say it, but he was afraid of what would happen. He wanted to shower you with all the love and affection that you did for him, but anytime he’d even think about wanting to say it, he’d feel his breath grow short, his hands start to sweat, and every scenario running through his mind always ended up with his heart breaking in two.

Whenever his mind would go down that route, he couldn’t help but wonder why you were even staying with him in the first place. Though he tried his best to be the boyfriend you deserved, if he couldn’t even say the one thing you wanted to hear, then what was the point? He didn’t want you to leave, but he also didn’t want to hold you too close, in fear that he’d give you all of him only for you to open your eyes and realize that he wasn’t worth it. He felt as though he didn’t deserve you, yet he wanted nothing more than to have you in his arms for the rest of his life. He wanted you to stay, but felt as though you should go, find someone who’s better at expressing themselves, someone who can give you what you deserve.

He felt selfish, unworthy of your love.

The thought of holding you back from someone else was what kept him up one night, his eyes trained on the ceiling above him as you were sleeping soundly next to him. As he listened to your breathing, he tried desperately to push all the negative thoughts away from his mind. All he wanted to do was sleep, and it seems as though he couldn’t even do that. 

After a few more minutes of a fruitless attempt of falling asleep, he shifted his body up, moving so that he was sitting up, peering over your sleeping form. He watched as your chest rose and fell, looking at the peaceful expression on your face. As he starts to pull away, his body shift ever so slightly to go to the kitchen, or anywhere else other than here, he sees your face scrunch up in discomfort, and before he can even breathe, your body moves on its own, twisting so that you’re laying across his lap, your arms wrapped loosely around his waist. He pauses in his movements, wondering if you’re awake, but once you let out a quiet snore, he sighs, realizing that you’re still asleep. 

In that moment, he can’t help but feel a bit disappointed that you aren’t awake, and it only makes him feel even more selfish. 

As he continues to stare at you, he notices that you start to stir, small grumbles of protest leaving your throat, and just before Shouto tries to lay down once more, in hopes that you won’t wake up, he finds himself staring into your eyes. 

You began to stir when you felt something wet drip onto your face. At first, you tried to ignore it, but after the fourth or fifth drip onto your face, you opened your eyes blearily, praying that there wasn’t a leak in your house. However, you were surprised when you open your tired eyes only to find Shouto staring right back at you, his teary eyes widening ever so slightly. Furrowing your brows, you moved so you were sitting upright, seating yourself in his lap as you took ahold of his face, softly brushing the stray tears away from his face.

“Honey,” You whispered, your voice thick with sleep, “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond, instead opting to shove his face into your chest, not wanting you to see him at his most vulnerable state. For a small moment, the gesture shocks you, but you immediately wrap your entire frame over his, as if you can somehow protect him from the impending negative thoughts. 

The two of you just sit there in silence, with you stroking the back of his head while he holds onto you as though your his lifeline. Though you want to question what has him so upset, you’re scared that he’ll shut you out and pretend that everything’s fine. However, as the silent sobs coming from the man don’t seem to be stopping any time soon, you steel your nerves, patting his shoulder in order to get his attention. While he doesn’t move his head, you do feel him freeze, and you take that as your opportunity to speak:

“Are you hurt?”

It takes a few moments, but eventually you feel him shake his head, and you hum, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “No? Do you want to talk about it?”

His reply is instant this time, his head rapidly shaking side to side. You can feel his arms tighten around you, every muscle in his body growing tenser by the minute. Cooing, you rub his back soothingly.

“That’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it,” You spoke, your voice laced with concern, “Just know that I love you, and I’m here for you,”

While you were only trying to get him to relax, it seemed as though you did the opposite of your intended effect. Rather than feeling him sag into your hold, you felt him grow even more stiff, and you couldn’t help the small sound of confusion that left your throat. Pulling yourself away from him, you tried to look into his eyes, only to end up failing. 

“Shouto,” He flinched, it was rare of you to call his name, he was used to you calling him those silly pet names that he’d pretended to hate, “Please tell me what’s wrong,”

He felt your hands reach for his, wrapping them around his larger ones. As you squeezed them, he still refused to look at you, and that alone made you even more anxious. It wasn’t everyday that Shouto cried in front of you, and, if you were honest, it had you worried. It made you feel terrible, knowing that he probably had been holding whatever was bothering him in for a while, and that you’d never even noticed. 

Cupping his cheek with your hand, you felt your own eyes get teary, “What happened? Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

He couldn’t help but scoff. Here he was, getting upset at the fact that he’s been an awful partner, taking advantage of your love and kindness, and you were wondering if there was anything you could do to make it better. When he saw the look on your face though, he sighed, figuring that he may as well rip off the bandaid.

“I just,” He starts, his voice faltering just the slightest bit, “Am I enough?”

You tilt your head, even more confused than when you had woken up. “What do you mean?”

This time, he looks right at you, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You watch as he bites his lip, worrying the flesh between his teeth as he decides on what to say next.

“Am I enough for you?”

“Of course,” You say without any hesitation, desperately trying to get your point across, “You’re more than enough.”

Apparently, that wasn’t the right thing to say, as Shouto pulls away from your touch, rubbing his eyes roughly. “You don’t have to lie to me,”

You weren’t sure where any of this was coming from, and frankly, it was a little too early for your brain to be processing such important topics. However, you forced yourself to focus, your voice becoming steadier than before.

“Why would I lie? Shouto, you’re one of the best things to happen to me, and I’m so lucky to have you in my life,” Leaning closer, but not too close to invade his personal space, you lowered your voice, “Let me in that pretty head of yours, don’t lock me out.”

It took a while for him to even register your words, and, for a moment, you were sure that he was ignoring you. However, after a few more moments of silence, Shouto looks up once more, though, this time his eyes are focused on something beside you, and you figure that he’s doing his best to keep his cool.

You can tell that this is hard for him, and you’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have to speak, but he beats you to the punch.

“You’re so caring,” He starts, and you feel yourself grow even more confused, if that were possible, “You always put my needs before your own, you’re always making sure that I’m okay. Whenever I’m upset you try to make me laugh, even if it ends up embarrassing you. Hell, you even drove halfway across town one time because I told you about a bakery I liked when I was younger just to get me something.

Every time you tell me you love me I feel a pit in my stomach because you deserve someone who doesn’t take your kindness for granted. You deserve someone who’ll do the same things for you,”

Laughing bitterly, he turns away, his eyes now trained on the window by your bed, “You deserve someone who can actually say it back,”

The two of you sit in silence for a long while, with you trying to digest what he just said, and him doing his best to not fall apart even more so. Finally, you speak up, voicing your thoughts:

“Is that what you think?”

When he doesn’t respond, you close the gap between the two of you, plopping yourself right back onto his lap and squishing both cheeks in your palms, forcing him to look at you. Your heart breaks at the sight of his bloodshot eyes, how puffy they look, how vulnerable he looks.

“Todoroki Shouto, I will say this as many times as you need me to: you are the only man that I want to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t know where you got the idea that you’re not enough for me, but let me tell you right now, you’re even more than what I could’ve possibly hoped for. Just because you don’t say ‘I love you’ doesn’t mean that I don’t know it. There are other ways that you show it,”

When he scoffed again, you squished his cheeks even tighter, though you made sure not to accidentally hurt him. “What, you don’t believe me?”

The silence between the two of you was rather telling, and you were about to fill it up with every single act of love Shouto’s ever done for you.

“Fine, then I guess I’ll just list them for you,” You started, shifting your weight so you were a bit more comfortable, “Every time that we’re out you always make an effort to hold my hand because you’re worried that I’ll get lost, and I find that to be the most endearing thing in the world. You also make sure to hold me as tight as you can whenever one of us has to leave the other, even if it’s for dumb, mundane things like me heading to my gym class. Oh, and don’t forget that whenever I’ve had a hard day at work, you always seem to somehow know, and you pick up my favorite meal from that little corner restaurant because neither of us can cook and you know how irritated I get when I’m hungry.

You love me unconditionally, even on my worst days, when I feel like I don’t deserve your patience. It doesn’t matter to me whether or not you say ‘I love you’ back, because I know that you do. I don’t say it because I expect a response from you, I say it because I can’t help it. Because whenever I’m with you, I want you to know just how much need you, how much I care for you.”

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you smile when he doesn’t pull away this time. “I’m sorry that it took me so long to see that you were upset, I should’ve been more observant,”

Shouto’s head immediately shakes back and forth, vigorously disagreeing with you. “No, it’s not your fault. I should’ve just told you what was going on, instead of keeping it all to myself,”

For a while, the two of you just sit there, staring at each other as if it were the first time you’d met. You traced the bottom of his scar while his hands played with the hem of your top, his hands occasionally going under the fabric to rub your back with his warm hands. Occasionally, you’d pepper his face with kisses, each one littered with an abundance of compliments. 

After a while, the tiredness from earlier had begun to seep into your bones, and Shouto seemed to sense this as well, as he pulled the two of you under the covers, his body covering yours. As sleep began to take over once more, you pressed one final kiss to his lips, a tired smile resting on your face.

“Don’t think we’re done with this conversation mister,” You yawned, rubbing your eyes, “Be prepared to get a whole truck load of loving coming your way,”

Laughing to himself, he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. 

“I can’t wait,”

[pillage-and-lute]

Thicker Than Water (Part 8)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, (here)

Ao3 link HERE

Please note, this is pretty heavy, it deals with a lot of common insecutiries for adults with ADHD and Jaskier blames himself for a lot of things, but it’s not triggering in the traditional sense. Much of this fic has been about the ways Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria and other ADHD symptoms can cause self-destructive actions, this focuses on other insecurities, common blames, and then the self-isolation that can come from guilt, even unfounded guilt.

Please remember, in this fic’s world Geralt and Jaskier actually do have a loving and pretty healthy friendship, albeit with communication issues. People fight some times, these are just ways in which RSD can mess with healthy relationships.

OTHER TW: Mentioned child abuse.

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

Yennefer and Ciri asked Jaskier to come down for supper that evening. Between lunch and dinner he’d napped, evidently passing out wasn’t the same as actual good-quality rest and his body was demanding it’s due. Evening came around, though and Yen took his elbow to help him stand.

They walked at a slow pace down the hall, Jaskier’s body not up for much more. Ciri stuck behind them, but the pace was embarassingly painstaking.

“Ciri,” Yennefer said. “This is a lot for Jaskier, and will take some time, why don’t you go see if they need help in the kitchen?”

Ciri gave one more concerned look at Jaskier, then bounded off. 

Yennefer steered Jaskier to an alcove in the stone of the hallway. He was embarrassed to find himself out of breath.

“What are you going to do?” She asked him. She wasn’t asking about his lungs.

“Eat supper I suppose.”

“I mean about Geralt.”

He knew she meant Geralt, and sighed. “I don't know, Ciri says I'm angry and I am...”

“But?”

“That day on the mountain I didn’t give him space,” Jaskier said, feeling a lump grow in his throat, blocking off his already small air supply.

“I never know when to give people space, I never have, I've been working on it my whole life and I still don't understand.” His chest ached. With emotion, with pneumonia, with tiredness. With shame.

“I’ve always been different, you know?” He looked up at Yennefer. He was taller than her but she sat regally, and he was hunched over, conserving his air.

“In stories being different is usually a good thing, you get cool powers and people love you, but life isn’t like that. And being different is...it’s so much worse when you’re a kid.”

“I know,” Yennefer said. Those purple eyes...she knew. She understood, probably better than anyone. There were parts of her story that Jaskier didn’t have, wasn’t entitled to, but she understood.

“I cant do things I'm not interested in, not don’t want to, can’t. Even if I am interested, they don't always get done,” Jaskier whispered, like he was confessing to a priest, not a barely-friendly witch in a cold hallway.

“I’m nothing but a ball of loose ends, tangled up and bouncing around, running into people and making them as tangled as I am,” Jaskier said. It came out half-sobbed, which upset his breathing and he began to wheeze, then cough.

“If I’m not interested in something, if nothing lights up my mind, I get so sad and tired it’s like this horrible weight.” Jaskier kept talking, feeling the emotions fighting to get out. “Being around people helps, I can get things done, be more normal. And interesting people, oh they’re the best, of course. They keep that awful sad, tired feeling away because they’re always interesting.”

He looked down at his knees, wrapped in their battered trousers.

“But I need to be around them so much,” he whispered. “And I’m too much for anyone to want around long.”

He leaned his head against the cold stone of the alcove wall, staring blankly and watching as his field of vision blurred with tears.

“I’m dramatic,” he said. 

“You’re a bard.”

Jaskier shook his head. “Dad called me a pansy, among worse things. He tried to beat it out of me. I just, I seem to feel more than other people. Happy is more happy, but sadness, fear, rejection, they’re all so much worse. I overreact and it makes me hard to deal with.”

He felt a tear roll down and get caught in the scruff on his chin. “I need people though, and I need people to like me. Crowds come and go I just needed one person to like me so I forced it to be Geralt.”

Jaskier was crying in ernest now, full tears falling and shoulders shaking, clogging up his breathing so his cries mingled painfully with coughs. Yennefer reached out and pulled at his shoulder, bringing him up from his hunched over position.

“I’m angry at him even though it was my fault,” he said, wretchedly.

“I followed him and took advantage of the fact that he doesn’t talk because he wont tell me to go away. I took advantage of his patience like that so someone could keep me around and I let myself believe that he actually wanted me around, that just one person could bear being around me. And being with him left me time to go seek out other interests, go ahead or stay behind, I never got bored and it was perfect for me and probably hell for him.”

Jaskier sniffled, looking away and studying the wall because he couldn’t bear to see the condemnation that would surely be on Yennefer’s face.

“And I fell in love with him. Which was stupid because I've been using him this entire time,” he whispered. 

“I used him for music and money, then I used him to bandage my self esteem and its all my fault.”

Jaskier finally managed to look at Yennefer and saw that she was actually rolling her eyes.

 “It’s not your fault, he was on a horse, you were walking, he could have left you behind anywhere.”

“He’s too kind to leave me to die on my own.”

“What about towns?” Yennefer asked. “What about the djinn?”

“The djinn was my fault.”

“The djinn was his fault,” Yennefer said, stubbornly.

“The djinn was my fault, I thought he was joking. He’d do that, you know? I’d ask him what he was doing and he’d say ‘cooking a unicorn’ or ‘hunting a gabledegook’ so I just thought he was joking again because I thought surely a djinn was only a story. Even if they weren’t there was no reason Geralt would want one. I made horrible wishes, they could have ruined lives, can you imagine?”

“I can.”

Of course she could. It had been stupid of him to say that, Yennefer knew better than anyone how a careless wish, or even a not so careless one, could turn out.

“I have to ask,” Jaskier said, since Yennefer didn’t seem in the mood to turn him into a salamander. “Did geralt wish for you to love him?”

“He wished for me to be bound to him the sex was just...adrenaline, magic, wanting another outsider, a little bit of the djinn. I won’t do it again.” She said, fervently.

“You don’t have to promise that, I have no claim to him,” Jaskier said.

“No one has claim to anyone,” Yennefer snapped. “But you love him. Anyway, I wasn’t telling you, I don’t want him. I don’t want sex with him I want his destiny, our destiny, nothing more.”

“I love him very much,” Jaskier said, after she settled from her outburst.

“Have you ever told him?”

Never, he might think he owes me something.”

“I think you think he’s more self sacrificing than he is. He wouldn't date you out of obligation, he’s not that sort of man.”

Jaskier tilted his head back against the stone. “But he feels guilty, for everything, all the time. What if he did it as an apology.”

“Geralt wouldn't do you the disservice of a pity relationship.” 

“We had a pity friendship.”

“You didn't.”

“We did.”

Yennefer peered at him with those strange eyes. “You love him though.”

“I do.”

“I don’t think its a lost cause.”

“I do.”

Yennefer shifted, pulling her hair over one shoulder. “When I asked earlier, I meant what do you want to do after this? Do you even want to see Geralt?”

“Oh gods I rambled and --”

“Shut up, you needed it off your chest.”

Jaskier sighed. “I always want to see Geralt, but I don't think I should be around him. He needs more space than most people and I need less. I do want an apology, I don't want him to grovel, I don’t want him to beg for me back in his life because that's a choice I want him to make on his own. I don’t even need him to tell me through speech because I know that can be hard. He could write a letter.I just...”

“And if you got an apology?”

“I intend to apologize first. I’ll apologize, maybe he’ll apologize, and that way we can at least be friendly, if not friends. And then in the spring I’ll leave, take a different path and it won’t matter anymore.”

I won’t be able to hurt him anymore, Jaskier thought, darkly.

“Nilfgaard wants you,” Yennefer warned. 

“I know,” Jaskier sighed. “I may have to fake my death or... oh!” He looked up at Yen, smiling even as he wanted to cough. 

“You can wipe my memory!”

Yennefer actually recoiled. 

Jaskier’s excitement had set off the coughing and he felt it tear through his throat and squeeze at his ribs until the fit eased.

“I’m not wiping your memory,” Yennefer said, severely.

“Why not? Yen, it’s the perfect solution, and Nilfgaard couldn’t get anything out of me.”

“And Geralt get’s his damned wish,” Yennefer snarled.

Jaskier looked down. “I know he didn’t mean it, he’s a good man, he wouldn’t wish anyone gone in that way, but yes, that wish would be granted and I’d never bother him again.”

“Geralt has a habit of making stupid wishes that he doesn’t actually want granted,” Yennefer snapped.

“You’re supposed to be on his side,” Jaskier said, smiling wetly. “It’s my fault, remember?”

“I don’t think even Geralt’s on Geralt’s side,” Yennefer said. “I won’t take your memories. You wouldn’t remember anything.”

Jaskier deflated. “I guess I’m as good as dead if I can’t remember songs or how to play the lute.”

Yennefer shifted uncomfortably.

“I would forget how to play, wouldn’t I?”

“Well...” she said. “No. You would remember anything you’d learn, knowledge isn’t memories, you know? You’d even know your songs, just not why you knew them or that you’d written them.”

“If you won’t do it, is there a mage who will? I’d only need to get to a city, how much do you think a spell like that would cost?”

Yennefer groaned. “No, bard, I’ll do it. If it’s what you still want, if you’re sure at the end of winter, yes, I’ll take your memories. It’s better than some quack doing it, or worse, turning you in to Nilfgaard but...I don’t like it.”

Jaskier was surprised to see her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I won’t take that choice from you,” she said, blinking hard. “But I hope it’s not the one you make.” She sniffed, she tried to make it seem disdainful but it was definitely tearful. 

“Anyway,” she said. “What about Ciri? She adore’s you, if you didn’t remember her it would break her heart.”

Jaskier waved a hand. “I”m only a storyteller,” he said, wishing bitterly that it wasn’t true. “She has a whole marvelous family full of stories they can tell her.”

“Didn’t you hear her, she doesn’t feel like this is a family,” Yennefer said, sharply. 

“We’ll fix that.”

“So that you can abandon her, you mean?”

Jaskier grimaced. “It’ll be safer for her. Even if I traveled with Geralt, there’s no guarantee Nilfgaard wouldn’t take me, wouldn’t read my mind and put her in danger.” He looked Yennefer right in the eyes. “I won’t let myself hurt her.”

Yennefer hung her head. “We’ll discuss it at the end of winter,” she said. “Do you still feel up to dinner?”

Jaskier thought about it. He felt lighter, in a way, unburdening himself of the guilt he’d been carrying was better, but he was exhausted, and his chest felt raw. 

“I think I’d rather eat in my rooms,” he said sheepishly. 

He ate dinner alone, wishing he wasn’t but he was practicing giving people space, and he felt proud of himself for it. He only had to continue it, apologize, and get through the winter.

Then he’d never remember he had problems to begin with.

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

They will get there. Please read the note at the top, these are all very common ADHD insecurities and relationship problems. Remember, Geralt is not the villain. He needs to apologize, and he’s trying, but the villain is the insecurity.

Tag List!

@frywen-babbles @mordoriscalling @thedarkestangel1 @kerfufflezz  @samukai  @charlies-dragon @live-long-and-trek-on  @holymotherwolf @morte-mistrata @mewithanie @sharondnovels @stinastar @ionlylikemycat @annafortoday @its-the-quenchiest-stuff @kkiyomizu @so--many-fandoms @endless-whump @ineffable-monster-romancer @tookarma @seraphim-miryam  @sweetiepieplum @nerdy-numinuos @ravenclaw-dirt

[the-evil-authoress]

GX Month Day 3: “Mind on Air”

Dreamers be dreaming with their heads in the clouds. Show us your favorite character’s dream career, their secret desires, or that diary they keep under their pillow. ;)

Career Goals

Alexis taps her pen against the desk. The blank form in front of her asks her to list her first second and third career choice, skills she will need to succeed in those careers, and where she sees herself in two to five years. All simple questions, and yet the paper is still blank.

Sighing, she glances back to her career aptitude test. Her ‘top matches’ list options like teaching and social service jobs while citing her ‘strong desire to help others’ as the reason. She thought this test would help her pinpoint a direction to take, but she’s just as confused as before. She can’t deny that she enjoys helping others, but does she want to make a career out of it? Help others for the rest of her life?

The text notification sound on her PDA is a welcome distraction from her thoughts, and she opens the app to find a text from Jaden.

[hey can i come over?]

The question is surprising enough that Alexis reads it twice. Jaden only just started coming back to class and hanging out around all of them again; not with them exactly because he still doesn’t interact much - and uses Jesse as his personal human shield much to their annoyance - but at least he’s come out of that total isolation.

[Of course] she texts back without further hesitation. She’d been worried about him and this is a good sign, right? Maybe he wants to talk. She knows something happened between him and Christina because everyone had noticed the sudden shift in dynamic between the two of them.

-“It’s fine. We’re working on it,”- was all Christina would say about the matter.

Whatever this is, Alexis knows she’ll have to let Jaden broach the topic first or risk running him off again. She turns back to her career plan paper to wait.

The balcony door slides open only minutes later and scares the crap out of her. Jaden kicks out of his shoes.

“That was fast.”

“I was outside before I realized I should ask.” Jaden doesn’t look at her as he shrugs out of his jacket, looking small and vulnerable without any of his usual energy. It’s different than the previous times he’d go quiet and still during movie nights; that had been relaxation, this...this looks more like defeat.

“I appreciate a heads up, but I did say my window’s always open,” Alexis says. “What’s up?”

Jaden doesn’t respond as he flops face first onto the bed. A silence passes though not entirely uncomfortable. “Christina and Jesse are working on that career choice paper,” Jaden eventually mumbles.

Oh. Alexis glances at her own paper. “Have you done yours?”

“No. I don’t even know where I wanna be tomorrow let alone next year.”

Honestly valid. They’ve all been through some shit this year. Alexis can’t blame Jaden for having trouble moving forward when she’s no better. “Have you taken the career aptitude test?”

Jaden hesitates. “I think I missed that day.”

“You can ask Dr. Crowler for a copy-”

“Can we just watch a movie or something?” Jaden asks abruptly, voice taking a desperate edge, and Alexis abandons her desk to join him on the bed. Here she is helping someone again; maybe that aptitude test has the right idea.

The four of them dragged the TV over from the living space to the wall opposite the headboard at the beginning of the year and Alexis never bothered to put it back. Jaden rolls over onto his side enough to peer at the screen, hugging a pillow to his chest and not touching Alexis, which is weird for his usual brand of physical affection. She offers her hand where it rests between them and Jaden cautiously slides their fingertips together.

They end up throwing on some lighthearted and silly cartoon, the kind that you’re not supposed to take seriously or apply logic to. Jaden watches with the same disinterest that’s persisted since his return from the other dimension. Their fingers remain loosely linked. There’s a heartwarming message about determination and friendship persevering at the end; Jaden’s fingers twitch and Alexis glances over in time to see him grimacing. She can’t even blame him.

“I always saw myself dueling for the rest of my life,” Jaden says as the end credits roll. “But now...”

Alexis waits for him to finish his thought. It’s still weird to see him look so dejected and forlorn, when none of his quiet spells had ever been like this before. Except-

-“You think he’s changed?! The change he did make was for you! It wasn’t real! This- this is real!”-

Except maybe it was there all along and Alexis never bothered to look past the surface. Once it becomes obvious Jaden has no intention to continue, Alexis speaks up. “You’re good at it. You could easily make it as a pro.”

Jaden huffs. “Just cuz you’re good at it doesn’t mean you should.”

Oh.

Alexis’ mind swings back to the aptitude test and career choice paper still sitting on her desk as that simple statement sinks in. She doesn’t want to be a teacher or social worker even if some test says she should be; she’d just been trying to follow the expectations set out for her. The answer seems so silly and obvious now.

“Thank you.”

“Huh?” Jaden jerks, looking alarmed.

“Oh. No. You just helped me realize something.” Alexis smiles, quickly trying to smooth over the blunder as she squeezes Jaden’s hand. “But, anyway, you’re here because you needed help, right?”

Her words have the opposite effect than intended as the terror in Jaden’s expression only grows. He glances frantically back at the balcony window and pulls his hand free. “I should go.”

“Jaden-”

“Thanks for having me,” Jaden barrels over her protest as he rolls off the bed, sounding entirely perfunctory and a means of escape.

“Come back again soon?” It sounds like a plea even to Alexis’ ears and she curses herself for it. Jaden flees off the balcony without responding.

In the sudden silence of her bedroom, Alexis stares at the glass door. She’d been so close to something, then went and put her foot in her mouth. Somehow. What is Jaden so afraid of? Groaning, Alexis slumps back on her mattress. This friendship needs an instruction manual.

[mikasaluna]

生きていたんだよな

⚠ WARNINGS：potentionally triggering content ! graphic suicide descriptions ! self harm ! dark content !

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED IMMEDIATELY.

「 Keep in mind your triggers and do not engage if it will provoke negative emotions. You are responsible for your own actions. 」

♥️

notes：gender neutral pronouns, angst, fluff (kind of?), 1,640 words

If you need help I recommend posting on r/suicidewatch or searching for your area’s local suicide helpline using ctrl+f on the following wikipedia page.

♥️

A/N：Also, I didn’t realise until now as I’m writing the tags, that most people spell Kuroo’s first name as “Tetsuro” without the “u”. I wrote it differently because that’s just the direct Japanese spelling and I didn’t know. Sorry about that.

Haikyuu!! / ハイキュー!!

Kuroo Tetsurou 黒尾鉄朗 

Kaji, hatsu, mame. Kaji, hatsu, mame. Kaji, hatsu, mame. You repeated the radicles to yourself as you wrote out the character over and over, feeling the muscle memory in your wrist kicking into gear. Your head was throbbing, hundreds of kanji readings swimming around in your mind. Now more than ever, the pressure of growing up had began to weigh down on you like a pile of bricks. Trying to make sense of all the pre-set rules in your life was difficult enough as it was, but just trying was never good enough. Nothing ever was. For every happy person in the world, there had to be an opposite, there had to be a person like you. It was pathetic. You were so damn pathetic. 

Your relationship with your mother, who’d left Japan to raise you all on her own, was hanging by threads. Could you really blame her though? Your grades had been falling steadily over the semester, and the scholarship which you’d worked so hard for was slipping through your fingers. You’d given up on yourself, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’d given up on you too. The things that used to be so easy, laughing together at your little wooden dining table, became so far away, every night like a video tape stuck on repeat.

一体何を思ってるんだろう！バカの？

“What the hell are you thinking! Are you stupid?”

Why should you care? Maybe things would be easier if you just let your life fall to pieces. Maybe once you had nothing left to hold on to, you could finally break free. Maybe all this time, all you ever were was stupid. 

わかんない。

“I don’t know.”

You were lying through your teeth. Of course you knew. You were stupid for ever believing in all the things that made your life worth living, because they didn’t mean a thing at all. Locking yourself in your room, like you always did, isolating yourself. Too craven to face your problems, too tired to care. I can’t do this anymore. You’d been wandering through life aimlessly for so long. Searching for something, anything; waiting for that reason to come into your life, like every other person was insistent it would. Forcing yourself through each and every day, waiting and waiting; but it was time you realised, that reason never really existed at all. It was just another lie people told themselves, to try and make sense of their own existence. You were sure they knew as well as you did now, somewhere deep in their hearts, that their lives, your life, was just another figure on the chart. Another meaningless statistic. Your thoughts were racing, clogging up your brain and threatening to spew out of your mouth. You pulled your diary out from under your pillow;

’Thursday, 24th of December’

「Today’s a special day, isn’t it? I don’t know if I’ll be around for Christmas this year, that’s okay, it was never really my thing anyway. 

お母さん、ごめんなさい。いま、離れなくちゃダメだ。　　」

“Okaa-san, I’m sorry. I have to leave you now.”

With that, you couldn’t take it anymore. You’d been thinking about this day longer than you could bear, drafting your final words over and over in your head. But when it came down to it, was there really a right thing to say?

Grabbing your grey hoodie, you plugged some headphones into your i-pod. You’d figured that leaving your phone behind was a better idea, it meant that no one could call or track you. You’d do it right, and this time you’d make sure not to wake up ever again. Reaching the pavement outside, you began moving along you streets. You walked slowly, taking the time to look along the streets one last time. It was almost nostalgic, dream-like in a sense. The urban road you grew up  which you had never payed much mind, was calming. For once in a long time, you felt truly at peace.

There was a parking building nearby, one which your Okaa-san often parked in. It was tall and old, reaching 7 storeys into the sky, surrounded below by solid, grey asphalt. This was it. In the elevator ride to the top floor your heart was beating hard in your chest, thoughts so loud you thought they’d grow out of your mind and become real. You couldn’t allow yourself to look back now.

Standing by the ledge of the building, you looked out over the city, and wondered if anybody could see you up there. What would they think of you, somebody who’d throw their life away so easily? Hitting play on your i-pod, 生きていたんだよな (ikiteitandayona) by あいみょん (aimyon) began to play. The lyrics were tragic and bittersweet, but the rhythm made your adrenaline pump. You teetered even closer to the building’s edge, legs wobbling. The height made you feel dizzy as you peered down off the drop, and all the way down to the pavement below. But not for a second did you feel scared.

冷たいアスファルトに流れるあの血

♩ ‘On the cold asphalt, their blood flows.’

赤さが綺麗で綺麗で

♩ ‘That red is beautiful, beautiful.’

How long would you fall? You thought, sitting down and swinging your legs over the side of the building. You almost wanted to laugh. It reminded you of all those times you had snuck onto the school roof with your classmate in high school, what was his name again? Kuroo? Right, Kuroo Tetsurou. On the last week of school while you were skipping last period maths together, you had convinced him to smoke a joint with you right there on the roof. Those were the final memories you had ever made together, since you’d each left for different universities. Why were you thinking of him now, of all times?

最後のサヨナラは他の誰でもなく

♩ ‘Their last goodbye,'

Standing up, you leaned back and looking out over the view, one last time.

自分に叫んだんだろう

♩ ‘screamed to nobody but themself.’

You took a breath in, deep enough to feel your lungs burn. Tears stung at your eyes, but you bit them back and closed your eyes. Part of you wished you could fix this all, but you didn’t know how. You didn’t have the energy to try and make things better.

鳥になって 雲をつかんで

♩ ‘becoming a bird and grabbing the clouds’

Shuffling your toes over the edge, you had made the decision in your head.

風になって

♩ ‘becoming the wind...’

Your muscles relaxed, and you allowed yourself to fall off of the edge.

“WAIT-!” You heard a scream for a split second, a hand grabbing hopelessly at the back of your hoodie as you began to descend. It was too late now. The wind in your ears blocked out the voice yelling from above, muffling the sound. It was strangely tranquil here, floating down off the the 7th floor, the clearest your head had felt in months. Nevertheless, you couldn’t help but wonder.

Was this the right choice?

Finally, the concrete embraced you as your body slammed into the ground.

[This artwork does not belong to me. I saved it to my laptop a long time ago and now I can’t find the source, if you know the artist please send me a message so I can credit properly.]

________________________________________________________________

Your eyes fluttered open and bright white light flooded your vision.

Where the hell am I?

Everything hurt. Your head was pounding and your mind was fuzzy. Cotton sheets lay underneath your aching body and a mess of black hair lay beside you. Someone was sitting on a chair next to the bed, his cheek resting on your arm, shoulders rising and falling slowly in his sleep.

“Tetsurou?” Your voice came out broken and hoarse. 

He lifted his head slowly, eyes red and swollen, had he been crying? 

“W-where am I?”

“We’re in the hospital,” he said shakily “the firefighters caught you when you fell.”

The memories came flooding back. That’s right, you jumped. So, that wasn’t the ground you felt back then? Your head was filled with questions, but you weren’t sure where to start. He probably thought you were pathetic too, but part of you was just so happy. Happy you were alive to see him again. Kuroo had to be the only friend who ever really understood you and your stupid humor, having him there reminded you of that. Maybe it had impacted you more than you realised, not having a single person at uni who really got you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He uttered quietly from beside you.

“Tell you what, Tetsurou?” You looked over, sitting up steadily. His eyes were filled with pain.

“I was so scared, why didn’t you tell me what was going on!” Kuroo covered his face with his hand, but you could still see the tears falling onto his lap as he spoke. “I-I love you, you know that right? I still love you, and I would do anything... so why the hell didn’t you come talk to me!” His confession was broken and hurt, but it made your stomach twist. You couldn’t even understand it yourself, why you felt like this.

“What was I supposed to say? I’m pathetic, I don’t have any other reason.” It was true. Compared to most people, your life was easy. You had a family, a home, friends, education. What reason did you really have? To try to end your life, to be unhappy at all.

“I don’t care about that, just please... don’t leave me again.” It was the first time you’d ever heard Kuroo being so serious, and it almost scared you. Tears were stinging in your eyes at his words. You felt his big arms wrap around you, enveloping you in a safe, warm hug as your tears stained his shirt. Were you really so oblivious that you never realised how he felt about you?

“O-okay... and, Tetsurou?” 

“Yes?”

“I love you too.”

[petri808]

Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

When Bakugou finally woke up in the Ena City Hospital, his head was splitting worse than a punch from Kirishima in full quirk, and ears rang with the force of all 108 New Year’s bell tolls. If he’d had no memory of the night before, Bakugou swore he’d just survived the worst hangover in history. Even his eyes hurt from the bright, piercing fluorescent lights and they weren’t even open! He turned his head to the side, noticing how much effort it took just to shift in such a small manner. It was as if his body was drained of... “Ugh, that bastard,” he groaned. ‘Fucker bit me.’ And as if to add insult to injury, a pin-prick pain in his neck revealed itself in that revelation.

His arm flopped up, hand straining with jerky strokes, reaching to touch the fresh bite wound located at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He flinched at the tender, bruising pain that sent a shock down his spine. Son-of— This just in! Pro Hero Dynamite cast in one of those cliché vampire movies that went straight to video. Definitely not the career start he’d envisioned.

“Oh, good you’re finally awake Mr. Bakugou.”

“Who the fuck are you?” he spat at the male voice. “And can someone turn the fucking lights off?!”

“I am Doctor Ishihira, and my apologies,” the doctor flicked off the overhead light. “Is that better?”

“Yeah,” he grumped.

“Mr. Bakugou, you were found yesterday morning and brought in suffering from hypovolemic shock due to severe blood loss and dehydration. We’ve treated you with 3 liters of IV fluids and blood plasma to bring your numbers back up, however you’ll still be groggy until your body replenishes the nutrients you were stripped of.”

Over a day had passed! At hearing he’d been out cold for so long, Bakugou immediately clenched his fists, swearing up and down about being released until they threatened to sedate him for longer. Longer?! He begrudgingly relented and settled down, but damn it! That meant Midoriya had another head start on him again! And now that the man knew he was on his trail, finding him would be a lot more difficult!

“What the hell is hypo-whatever shock?” Bakugou questioned.

“When you were found, you were in and out of consciousness and rambling incoherently, all signs of severe blood loss. The fatigue you’re still feeling is also due to the effects of it. Luckily the amount of loss wasn’t enough to start shutting down your organs.”

The doctor continued explaining a few more details regardless of the tantrum like a robot. Minor injuries he’d been treated for. The obvious puncture wounds in his neck, questioning Bakugou about any description he could provide of his attacker. He wasn’t about to tell this doctor or any authority figure who the true culprit was, so he feigned a temporary retrograde amnesia. Based on a raised brow, peering over his glass’s expression, the doctor didn’t look very convinced. Oh well, Bakugou really didn’t care about the man’s opinion.

“Mr. Bakugou, we also called you parents…”

“You what?!” Bakugou tried to jump off the bed, but his body absolutely refused to respond and ended up flopping like a dying fish. Ugh! He really was worse off than he’d thought.

“I’m sorry, but you are a minor, so we were obligated to do so. However, they did give us permission to treat and release you on your own recognizance once we felt you were better.”

Well, that was good news. ‘Sounds like mom actually listened to my letter.’ Or the authorities surely would have shown up by now. “Ugh! So, how much longer am I stuck here?”

“If you continue to recover well, tomorrow morning.”

Fuck! Now a three-day head start! Just great, he groaned. Midoriya could get far away with that kind of a jump start. “Fine, whatever! Now go the fuck away.”

The doctor left the room after explaining how nurses will be monitoring his progress, but to also let them know if anything started to feel worse. They needed to know if he developed any lasting effects from organ damage. Once he was alone again, Bakugou rolled gingerly onto his side as his mind processed the new information. Whatever Midoriya had been hit with must be the cause of this weird blood thirst that resembled a goddamn vampire plot line. Perhaps the significance of the blood coloring in his eyes was a sign of that thirst taking hold? That’ll be a handy tell, too bad it seemed to appear within seconds of the next step.

But if Midoriya had just fed on a victim, and history showed at times, a span of days before the next incident, what had caused his friend to attack him so fast? Was this thirst like a hunger? And what happens when you exercise or exert yourself? You use up energy. ‘Duh, Katsuki.’ Fighting and expending all that energy must have triggered the attack. ‘Wow, it burns fast.’ That meant Midoriya probably struggled to control this thirst, and that’s why he was pleading for him to leave him alone. But sorry, he couldn’t do that. ‘Fucker shouldn’t have run!’ One way or another he is getting his friend back home where he belonged. In fact, this only made his drive to find Midoriya stronger because he felt like he was partially to blame for the predicament his friend was in. The guy had to be scared, freaked out, and lonely. Bakugou’s heart clenched at the thought. He knew his friend was a social person by nature who loved being around friends and family. To be stuck out here all by himself and too frightened because of whatever this new quirk was had to be horrible… and utterly not fair. Of course, he did have a tendency to isolate himself when he feared…

Bakugou groaned. “Kami, not again with this shit!” When was Midoriya gonna learn to stop running away!

As his eyes relented to the fatigue and his mind slipped back into unconsciousness, Bakugou could only pray he’ll get a lead as soon as he got out of this hospital. This strange new quirk, if that’s really what it was, posed a serious danger not only to Midoriya, but the public. The reputation of pro hero’s had taken a major hit already because of AFO and the league, so if the public found out about a blood drinking hero attacking people… ‘I gotta get you out of here…’

After his encounter with Bakugou, Midoriya had rushed out of town as quickly as possible. Tears poured down his cheeks as he took off into the sky from having given in to the lust of this uncontrollable quirk. But he couldn’t stop it even if he’d wanted to. He’d learned the hard way right at the beginning that once it took hold of his mind, the only thing he could do was give-in or succumb to an even worse ravenous state that literally hurt. The pain of holding out on the hunger made him feel like a starved predatory animal that tore at his insides until he relented. In this state, the blood of any creature that came too close became a meal. But it was never enough. Animal blood didn’t satiate him in the same way that human blood did. Plus, he worried that if he let it get completely out of control, he might just end up killing someone. So far, he’d been lucky to leave them all unconscious but alive.

It was obvious that the light AFO had hit him with contained this strange quirk. How ironic, to take down a villain, only to be turned into one. That’s how Midoriya felt. How else could he feel? A hero wouldn’t hurt other people, so by taking the blood of others for sustenance, that made him a villain. Therefore, he couldn’t be a hero anymore. It must have been AFO’s plan all along once he’d realized he was losing. The villains end goal was to ruin hero society and this was definitely one way to do it. Take out his primary rival. The man poised to carry on a torch of safety and security, and snuff out any who chose to do harm… The whole situation with Bakugou really turned this into a nightmare out of body experience. To see his friend’s eyes suddenly show fear, then fade away the more he drank… his mouth clamped to the man’s neck… it was a horrible imagine that was sure to haunt him. He could still smell the burnt cinnamon from such a close encounter. If only he had clothes to change into or even a pond to bathe in, because that lingering scent was gonna drive him mad!

Midoriya curled up and clenched his eyes shut tight in an abandoned and overgrown castle he’d found outside of Ena. It didn’t look like it’s been maintained for a very long time, so the likelihood of a human showing up seemed low. He knew he should have travelled farther away, but he was too tired, too upset and just wanted to quit. All the years of growing up quirkless, to gain OFA and become the very thing he’d dreamt of, only for those dreams to be dashed again. It was as if life just didn’t want him to be a real hero. Maybe he should just put himself out of his misery, and yet— he couldn’t do it. To die out here alone where no one knew where he was or what had become of him, that wasn’t fair to his family and friends…

They must be so worried about him right now. His poor mother didn’t deserve any of this. Would his friends look down on him now? And All Might, his idol, who’d taken him under his wing, was he disappointed? And that just left Bakugou. He’d said the truth in answering the man’s question. No, Midoriya never would have expected him to come looking. Katsuki Bakugou giving a damn about him? Yeah, right. Bakugou wasn’t doing this because he cared. There was always a selfish reason behind his madness. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. Shouldn’t big bad Dynamight be thrilled that his biggest rival was gone?

Okay that was a big, fat white lie he’d been telling himself for the last two years. He knew Bakugou had moved past those pettier behaviors, but it was simply easier to believe and keep their relationship as rivals than to hope his childhood friend would ever see him as something else. And yet… ‘Kacchan was genuinely surprised by my answer. Did he really come looking for me because he cared that much?’ Yet in what way? Why was the man trying so hard? Did he… ‘miss me?’

Midoriya shook his head violently of those thoughts. No, no, he didn’t want to believe that because it would make this situation even more unbearable than it already was! He’d already given up everything he’d ever loved. His hopes and dreams, a future and losing an affection he’d craved for years would just simply be too much.

[dakotacrisis]

Ursula

Okay so with that whole Cruella movie thing going on there is a post floating around about why they haven’t done something like this for Ursula who is mysterious and cool and has this interesting untold backstory. That just reminded me of the fact that back when Maleficent first came out 7 years ago I was thinking about that same premise but with Ursula and wrote what is basically a plot synopsis for an Ursula backstory I created and never did anything with.

I also didn’t want to hijack the original post I had saw addressing this so I am posting it here.

---

Ursula is from a race of merpeople with tentacles instead of fish tails that abandoned their home in the deeper part of the sea when food became scarce. During the move baby Ursula got separated from her family and found by a passing octopus who sees her and takes her to Atlantica. The then childless King Poseidon and Queen Amphitrite take Ursula in as their own. A couple years later Triton is born.

At first Ursula is a normal child. She is raised in a loving but strict home and groomed to assume the throne of Atlantica as she is the oldest child. Triton will get the other half of the sea to rule and start his own kingdom when the time comes. The King and Queen are actually really happy about having multiple children since it’ll divide the workload of ruling to a more manageable degree.

King Poseidon is strict and stern with a stubborn streak and a short temper. Despite this he is also a very brave, wise, caring, and protective father figure. While he may act distant and aloof he deeply cares about his children and is not afraid to be downright silly to make them smile. He takes a vested interest in teaching Ursula magic as she had an affinity for it as a child. Triton on another hand is taught more combat by Poseidon.

Queen Amphitrite is confident and charismatic with an effortless grace and elegance. She is highly intelligent and a gifted diplomat able to persuade others easily. She has a habit of being vain about her looks but only when out in public. In the comfort of her home with her family she is much more laid back and almost childlike and bubbly. She loves her children and takes a leading role in their studies and teaching them how to be leaders.

As children Triton and Ursula get along fine. They tease and fight like normal siblings do, but you can tell that there is a lot of love between them as well. As teenagers they are still close but puberty, maturity, and peer pressure cause them to make poor decisions.

Life goes on and while Ursula does face prejudice from some of the kingdom for her species she is assured by her family that they love her and she doesn’t need to change to please others. While it does help she still carries a certain resentment for those who do hate her just because of how she looks.

Growing into a teenager is where it really comes to a head. Ursula is a proud, intelligent, kind of arrogant and flamboyant young lady. She often has to fight back against the harsh comments and passive aggressive treatment of her peers which gives her a thick skin and pessimistic attitude.

Triton as a teenager has grown up to be very much like his father. He is stubborn and short tempered with a tendency to be dismissive and highly opinionated. He still cares about his family, especially his older sister, Ursula, but with pressure from his friends starts to act colder and more distant with her. When he stands up for her when she gets bullied he is ostracized by his friends. Eventually he stops helping altogether although he knows it is wrong and feels guilty about leaving her to fight her battles alone. As the bullying gets worse and her best friend, Triton, becoming more and more distant with her Ursula gets angrier and more selfish so to keep herself safe.

One day things are going a little too well. People are nicer and happy to see her. Confused at this sudden turn around but encouraged by her brother she opens up to them and starts to enjoy herself believing that maybe things are turning around.

This goes on for a couple days and Ursula lets her guard down and enjoys herself with her new friends. It is her birthday and the kingdom gathers together to celebrate. Ursula invites her new friends as her personal guests to the festivities. Unbeknownst to her though was that this was a long term con to get to this exact moment.

A thing about Ursula’s species is that they are predatory hunters. They hunt down live fish and other aquatic life for nourishment and like sharks get attracted by blood. This was a problem growing up for Ursula as it was a natural part of her biology that she had to learn to control but does go out and hunt away from the kingdom as needed.

Her peers use this information to their advantage and gift her a bunch of chum. Angered that her friendship with these people was all a ruse to embarrass her Ursula goes into a rage. She uses her magic to animate the chum and have it chase and stick to the party goers. Her parents try to calm her down and manage to get through to her for a moment to stop but at this point the blood from the chum has attracted a group of sharks that break into the party and start chasing everyone.

Poseidon, Triton, and the guards are able to drive the sharks away but the damage has been done. Everyone blames Ursula for the shark attack despite the fact that they only showed up because of her bully’s “gift”. Despite everything Ursula does get a lecture from her mother about learning to control her temper and that she was not taught magic to use it in such a way. Ursula tries to explain her side of things but is shrugged off and told to lay low while they fixed things. Ursula is essentially under house arrest and encouraged to not so much as leave her room as much as she can until things die down.

Triton comes by to check on her and tells her that it was messed up what those people did to her. One act of aggression did not make her a bad person and her species definitely did not. Ursula asks him that if what they did was so wrong then how come he didn’t say anything when she unwrapped their present? How come he’s been pushing her away these past couple of years? Did he think she wouldn’t notice that he abandoned her to defend herself?

Triton gets defensive and tells her that it was not like she made it easy all the time to defend her. Could she try to be a little more sociable and nice to people instead of holing herself up with her spells all day? People would probably like her better if she didn’t act so strange.

Ursula is stunned. He did not just tell her that it was her fault that she has been ostracized by the community because of her species and her keeping herself locked away from others was what was most beneficial to her mental health. He did not!

That’s not what he meant--

It sure sounded like that’s what he meant.

Ursula, please, let them talk about this.

No. She’s done talking. She’s done waiting for everyone to accept her. They are never going to accept her. Not as one of them and certainly never as their queen. If Triton, her brother, her best friend, could not see what was happening, could not support her, then she had nothing left here.

She flees the castle. A massive search is launched to find her but Ursula has retreated to one of the farthest and darkest reaches of the ocean. There she hones her power. Her memories also morph turning her reasonably pleasant childhood into a lonely recollection where neither of her parents loved her. Her teen years are even worse as she takes the rejection and scrutiny and amplifies it tenfold in her mind until she has convinced herself that everyone in the kingdom hated her and didn’t care about her at all. The only thing she has from her old life being the nautilus shell her mother had gifted her on the birthday everything went wrong. It was a symbol of power and her right to be ruler of the ocean.

Sometime during her isolation she befriended two moray eels, Flotsam and Jetsam, that she enlists to spy on Atlantica for her. There she sees preparations being made for Triton’s coronation. She crashes the coronation and while at first everyone is scared and guards are called Triton recognizes the necklace and his long lost sister and swims to embrace her and welcome her home.

Ursula is not taken in by his sincere relief and gratitude that she is back and tells him that the throne was hers alone. Triton of course is confused because he does not understand why she is so angry with him. He did not choose to be king alone, everyone thought she had runaway never to be seen again years ago. They were supposed to rule together as brother and sister until she left.

Ursula goes on a rant about how he couldn’t have truly believed that. They had never been friends. They were never even family as far as she was concerned. She alone was supposed to rule the seas and she was here to reclaim her birthright and she was ready to take out Triton to do it.

Triton is now angry that his sister does not believe him and hurt that she hates him now. He tells her she does not deserve the throne after abandoning it and the two get into a large fight. Triton’s brute strength versus Ursula’s magic. It is pretty close with Ursula almost getting the upper hand before Triton manages to knock her back and she is subdued. Unable to do the deed of sentencing what was once his beloved sister to death he instead banishes her back to where she came from. Ursula vows to have her revenge and take back her crown.

Back in Atlantica Triton stares at the one remaining portrait of Ursula that remained hanging in the palace. A family picture of Poseidon, Amphitrite, Ursula, and Triton. Triton has it taken down and hidden away. It would be better for future generations that Ursula be seen as an evil sea witch that must be avoided than the rightful queen of the ocean she had been raised to be. He has his own growing family to worry about after all and it is better if they don’t know who she really is.

Epilogue brings news to Ursula via Flotsam and Jetsam that Triton’s youngest daughter has been seen skulking around sunken ships. Interesting. Be sure to keep an eye on this one.

END

---

gosh I wish I had 17 year old me’s motivation to write this and fully flush it out.

[luque-moreau]

y'know i think its about time ive refurbished my psychonauts headcanons/theories

what??? me??? rewriting my psychonauts headcanons in a more comprehensible and informed way???

ye

alright, i think everyone knows what im talking about, by headcanons i mean headcanon as in singular, and as singular, i mean my "raz is somewhere on the spectrum of adhd".

so lets just get into it:

what is adhd actually?

adhd by definition stands for attention deficit hyperactive/hyperfocus disorder (yes, let me get into the details in just a sec). it is a nerodevelopmental disorder that is almost completely reliant on genetic factors, however conditions during pregnancy can sometimes contribute to certain aspects of how adhd manifests itself.

long story short, people with adhd have a smaller frontal lobe, and therefore less dopamine in general (even though yes, it is more complicated than that).

theres also a little bit of "chicken or the egg first" goin on here, certain behaviors or personality tendencies can also affect how adhd is presented in one individual to the next, however its still not clear if that is because it is an accommodating for a certain thought process or if someones experiences and personality shape their symptoms of adhd entirely. its a very blurry line, and the answer is different for everybody.

hyperactive type

hyperactive type is probably the closest to most stereotypical depictions of adhd, think the 5 year old whos parents brush off their child’s hyperactivity as something that will “go with age”. however, this isn’t only present in children, adults with adhd have to deal with a constant need for stimuli to make up for the lack of dopamine their current activity is providing them. this results in someone fidgeting frequently in repetitive or predictable motions, unable to hold attention to a specific task for long periods of time, or many other of the symptoms associated with adhd.(i sadly cannot provide more information in this area, i am not knowledgeable enough to...)

hyperfocus type

hyperfocus type is a tricky one, it can look like the complete opposite of adhd in theory. hyperfocus can look similar to special interests or hyperfixation, a great deal of time and knowledge dedicated to a very particular thing (although it is important to note that even though hyperfixations and special interests are incredibly similar, special interests is a term more typically used within autistic-circles, and isnt really the best word to use if you happen to be neurotypical). Think of maybe that kid who knows all the cool animal facts and won’t shut up about them. Its because certain trains of thought or activities might release more dopamine then others, so to get more of that dopamine, someone of hyperfocus type will be mentally unable to stop thinking or doing a very specific task or topic. this results in someone seemingly always spacing out, unable to change subjects or changing subjects too fast or with little to no correlation, or being completely unable to have enough motivation to do simple things.

personally i tend to fall under the category of hyperfocus myself rather than hyperactive, however the two are not mutually exclusive, its more common to find people with both types rather than just one. even myself, i might exhibit more tendencies to place me under the label of hyperfocus, but that doesn’t mean i don’t have any symptoms of the hyperactive type. its my personality that affects my mannerisms, which then makes certain aspects of my symptoms more or less apparent. Thats because im an INTP-T, i just tend to be more to myself and constantly in a state of thinking abstractly. I have trouble communicating and even sometimes recognizing my needs, and get to a point where im unable to do the simplest of things without feeling emotionally drained. Thats just my experience though, everybodys different. 

so what the fuck does this have to do with raz then?

well lets think about it, rather than have it just be me projecting myself onto a comfort character:

raz finds issue with connecting to kids his age

lets be honest. none of the campers really like raz that much. or at least some do the bare minimum to be try and be polite. it doesn’t seem like any of the other campers besides dogen, whos also socially outcasted, are really fond of raz. lili might like him, but that can definitely be interpreted as curiosity in someone new and different from the norm. It might not be that the kids despise him, but nobodys opinionated enough to care whether he is around or not.

social isolation is one of the most damning things i had to experience from an early age and still feel even today. there is a sense of feeling that you are different among your peers, whether that is a good thing or bad thing. it feels difficult to interact with other people you are not familiar with, and can really stunt you emotionally and socially. from a really early age, theres somethin in you that knows something is very different between the experiences of your peers compared to your own, and it can feel incredibly isolating.

raz and his borderline stupidity

time to get real again. raz is a fucking idiot. at least in the sense that sometimes his decisions seem incredibly spontaneous and not really thought through. he runs from home to attend a summer camp, not really thinking about the logistics of how he will get there, how the staff will react, how long its gonna take for his parent to find him, and so on. it doesn’t seem like he over or underestimates his abilities, he just goes for it without considering. that doesnt seem like the smartest thing to do, even though we know hes incredibly intelligent when it comes to larger, abstract situations. its the little details that he misses, small minuet things that seem unimportant that he overlooks, which can sometimes make things harder for him in the end.

i think its obvious that impulsivity is one symptom of adhd. however i cannot stress how difficult it is to think at supersonic speed and still feel incredibly stupid. i mean, thinking faster doesn’t inherently mean you will have better ideas, you can always be stupider faster, but being able to realize stupid mistakes or inconsistencies in your own thought process is annoying as hell. it feels like every time you try to recognize the issue, fix it, and move forward, you only end up not paying attention to another issue that gets bigger and more annoying than the first. Its always two steps forward, one step back, constantly making the same mistakes even though you try everything in your power to avoid them or grow as a person. The simplest of facts, ideas, or just things to remember end up being forgotten, and once youre reminded of them you remember them and feel like an idiot. however, arbitrary things and complex issues are much easier to digest and remember for me, things like history and the whole blame game charade of it all, biology and how every minuet thing has a greater impact on others and intertwines with every single factor of its environment, philosophy and theorizing why we think the way we do and what can be changed. but oh shit, im a dumbass i forgot to do my laundry. shit. god fuckin dammit.

empathy over sympathy

one of the basic themes of psychonauts is empathy. simple as that. raz goes around into other peoples brains, and tries to help them as much as he can, even if his efforts are not always successful in the way he intended. he never demonizes anyone to the point of unredeemability, and can empathize and understand other peoples perspectives. hes open to new ideas and

although some studies out there theorize that empathy is impaired due to adhd, from my perspective i feel like that is simply not true. if anything, i would say the sensitivity that comes with adhd (hypersensitivity) only enhances that empathy. i could definitely see social disconnection being one of the reasons it might appear that someone with adhd is less empathetic, however i would doubt that adhd would impair a persons empathy. adhd tends to also entail heightened emotions, this doesn’t necessarily mean a more outwardly emotional person, however it definitely shifts a persons perspective of their own emotions as well as others. the concept of hypersensitivity also completely contradicts the idea of people with adhd be less empathetic.

miscommunication and disconnect

sigh, the dad thing. yup. raz has that very iffy relationship with his dad at the beginning of the game which is eventually resolved. very abruptly, might i add. but thats not what this is about, thats a topic for another day. miscommunication seemed to be the root of the issue, however we only get razs side of the story. not to mention the severity of his claims and willingness to seemingly drop everything afterwards. kinda sus, ngl.

alright this ones a doosey. this, i feel, cements my theory pretty well. like i mentioned before, social disconnect and hypersensitivity are side effects of the symptoms of adhd.  this means people with adhd are highly more likely to either misinterpret someones words or actions if those in question are not completely transparent, its because they tend to overthink and interpenetrate responses with too much thinkin n such. the social disconnect makes a whole lot of it worse, it can just pile on top of already established feelings of inadequacy and isolation. and oversharing as a poor coping mechanism isnt an exclusively adhd related thing, it tends to be shared within similar neruodevelopmental disorders such as autism or even ptsd. i find it incredibly easy to disconnect myself from my own emotions at times and think critically at what i feel and how it affects me. which is a bad thing. if i dont acknowledge my emotions like they are my own for too long, everything falls apart. its not fun. but, that disconnect can make talking about certain more traumatic experiences or instances that had deep personal effects on my life and development as a person much easier to just share. and not always in an appropriate manner, comedic opportunity can be   v  e  r  y   enticing. this also explains why raz might have been able to drop everything about his dad after he apologized. he didn’t really, he probably still suffers just as much afterwards as he did before. but he probably wont realize that for awhile, since logically, the issue has been resolved. long story short, he has not had the time to cope, and to put that off he detaches himself from those feelings. w a c k

of course i have other reasons why i feel like raz could potentially have adhd, or at least be accurately represented in headcanon with adhd, some minor mentions being:

he uses his camp map as a journal to track his in-game progress, list of goals, and notes/snip-its of information. writing down information on some form of notepad or book is a common tool used by kids and even adults with adhd to help them keep track of minuet, individual tasks. its just using a planner, but with a bit more information. 

just from my personal perspective, the lengths raz goes to pursue his dream of being a psychonaut feel more like a special interest/hyper fixation sort of thing. he can jump between having genuine conversations with his fellow campers and just exploring the campground, to investing himself entirely in obtaining his goal, even when it seems almost impossible. thats some serious dedication to one very specific thing, y’know?

this one isnt as solid as the other but: m̶̖̰̯̫̍͝o̵̦͖̟͈̹̤̥̝͐̿̄̀̀̎̓ņ̶̛̭̠̐̊̆̍͝ķ̸̝͈̺̙̰̊e̶͉͚̼̅̔͗̂͐̍̕͝͝y̶̦̖̼͖̪͎̝̖̠̐̑͋̾̔̑́͐͘ ̵̢̲̘͎͉̔̀͒̄͌͊̀͌̀m̴̲̫̮̪̖̍̐͆̕͜͝ͅả̶͙͚͗n̶̗̳̩̙̘̼̦̦͇͝ ̷̡̨̡͔̗͕̘͍̥̑͒̎̐̃g̴͔̔̈̅̐̏́̌̔̈́́o̶̥̱̽̆̂͌̀͗ ̶̝̩͙͕͛́s̴̛͓̥̲̜͓͚̣̠̆̓̌͌p̶̜̹̯̦̫̯̣̎͐̽̉̾ḙ̴͇̬͑̈́̐̈́͘͠ͅȅ̶̡̗̞̩͔̫̪͈͑̓͗d̵̠͇͎̜͔͇͒̈́́̀̅̈́̒͘y̸̡̦̠̻̖̥̿ͅ. yeah, its the most generalizing reason but look, hes moving nonstop the entire game, climbing and running around the entire goddamn place wrecking havoc. a bit of imp can be found in most people with adhd if you look hard enough.

so thanks for reading this far i guess? im oversharing even right now with this, like an i d i o t but yknow what i dont want to read the great gatsby rn, so ive got nothin better to do. who knows, maybe the second game will give us more info to either support/discredit this theory? gotta wait for pn2 i guess

:^)

[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.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

hello this isnt abt batfam or batman but i saw your age and was wondering how do i survive till 23? i am 18 now and 5 more years is very hard to survive please help

Interesting question. I turn 24 in ten days, and sometimes even I’m not sure. I guess I’ll talk about how I personally stayed alive this long before I try to give advice.

The very first thing I would say is that I am religious, and that worldview makes a difference. I don’t mean that in a “everything happens for a reason” kind of way, and as a matter of fact, I very much dislike that line of thinking. It does a lot of damage, and I’m aware that it rightly puts a lot of people off from religion in general. 

I hold two beliefs that I think are helpful in terms of survival. First, I believe that humans are by nature bad. Counterintuitive in this conversation? Stick with me. Every day, but especially at my lowest moments, I hate the things that I am. In a metaphorical sense, my mind whispers to me that I am selfish, that I am cowardly, that I think bad things and I am capable of worse. I’m hateful, I’m terrifying, and I am absolutely broken. At my core, there is something fundamentally wrong, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t fix it. 

I am disgusting. I’m several thousand evil things in a trench-coat pretending to be anything but myself, and I’m not fooling anyone. 

Well, yeah. Yeah, I’m all those things and more: manipulative, lying, self-obsessed, angry, unforgiving, and judgmental. I could, of course, go on.

Here’s the thing-- everybody is. I am no better and no worse than any other person in the universe, and though I am ever abhorrent thing, I am. I have the same dignity, the same worth, and the same life as any human anywhere. The dark things are part and parcel of my humanity, but although I am not good, I do good. 

I will never be perfect because that just isn’t possible, but I can be kind. I can be loving, I can be strong, and I can be wise. 

Shit, doesn’t that set me free?

There’s a lot more to this conversation, and the rest goes, in brief, like this: at the bottom of the darkness that is every soul, we have one great fear-- if I am truly evil, no one will ever love me. Good news on that front, there is a God who does. If that’s something you want to talk about, hey hit me up. I’ll evangelize on my own time. 

Back to it. My second belief is a kind of understanding about the passage of time, and it’s sort of hard to boil down into a few sentences, but I’ll try my best. I believe in a grand struggle between good and evil. I know the beginning of that struggle. I know the end of that struggle: that good will win. I am a part of the middle. 

I see my role in the universe as extraordinary small but absolutely necessary. I have a two-fold purpose-- love God, love humans. I interpret both as a call to help others in any way I can, and I think in the way my life has worked out so far, that’s really the most important thing keeping me alive. 

I see all of this through the frame of my religion, but I would argue that everything I’ve said so far is applicable outside of that frame, because a lot of folks get to the same place from a fully secular point of view. I cannot be perfect. I should care about and fight for other people. That’s really all we’re working from here. 

A few years back, when people asked me this question-- how do you stay alive?-- I used to answer “spite,” and that’s not untrue. I am a very angry person, and the grand majority of that anger is directed at what I perceive as unjust acts. I have a deep-seated hatred of establishments (including the established church), and you’d be shocked at how much of a motivator that can be. 

I grew up in an environment that was very intentional in teaching me to identify injustice. Though I have radically departed from many of the teachings of my childhood, the part about fighting for others was something I learned at day one, and that bit has stuck around. For the most part, I grew up in an environment where everyone was on the same page about it. 

And theeeeeeen I went to undergrad. Hello, Texas A&M. I hit campus as an 18 year old fully incapacitated by anxiety. I was the kind of person who didn’t-- in fact couldn’t-- speak in front of others. I had always lived my life in a way that minimized myself, because if I never spoke, if I never disagreed, if I never drew attention, I would never make anyone angry. I knew from experience that angry people hurt me, and I was afraid of pain. 

Then I experienced the absolute shenaniganry of conservative Texans. The culture shock sent me to space and back, and on the return trip I decided that I couldn’t be quiet anymore. 

I learned to speak my freshman year so that I could scream FUCK YOU. It was incredibly painful, and I can’t tell you exactly how I managed it other than I was angry, and I didn’t want to lose. 

I fought a similar battle on my homefront against parents that didn’t know how to deal with a daughter that disagreed, or even worse, a daughter that wasn’t okay. I wasn’t a perfect child anymore. I knew I had anxiety, I knew I was depressed, and we all knew who I blamed for that. They hadn’t been the perfect parents they thought they were. 

I found myself growing, little by little, into a person that could write and argue and hold her ground. That’s personal growth for sure, but it didn’t necessarily help my mental health. As a matter of fact, my health declined all through undergrad, and in my third and final year, I cracked.

I was desperate. I was isolated. I was flooded by fear and despair, and I was falling apart. I don’t remember huge chunks of undergrad because I was so depressed that the memories didn’t stick, but I do remember my tipping point.

It was something small. The ceiling fan in my bedroom was broken. The lighting chain worked fine, but if anyone pulled the fan chain, the whole thing would stop working. I mixed up which chain was which, pulled the wrong cord, and broke it for the fourth time. 

For some reason, that was it. I lay down on my floor and cried for an hour, and while I did, my mind went to, as the kids say, a dark place. Finally, I called my mom and begged for psychiatric medication, something I had always been afraid to ask for. At the time, my parents believed that antidepressants were overprescribed, and they mocked parents that let their children take them. 

At around the same time, I was deciding what to do with my life. I was about to graduate, and I had always wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. Instead, everyone in my life pushed me towards law school. I didn’t know what to do, but I began fantasizing, not about going to law school exactly, but about being the kind of person that could go to law school. 

I knew that law school would be entail public speaking and constant conflict and the kind of work that would be hard for a person who sometimes couldn’t leave her bed. I wanted to be someone who could do all of that, but I didn’t believe I was.

Enter Donald Trump. Post-November 2016, I struggled to understand how something like that could happen, and I watched everyone else deal with it too. I began confused, moved to distraught, then returned to what I always am: angry.

January 2017 was the inauguration and shortly afterwards, the “Muslim ban.” I read the news on my bedroom floor, and there was one specific part that stuck out to me. There were pictures of lawyers flooding the airports. There was a court case headed for SCOTUS.

I suddenly realized that one group-- one very select group-- was doing what I was powerless to accomplish. I hated establishments, and there was one group that could challenge and change them. Some people could fight in the way I wanted to, and those people were lawyers.

I have a very distinct memory of looking into the bathroom mirror of my third-year apartment and thinking, “I will be miserable for the rest of my life, no matter what I do or what career I pick. I might as well be a miserable lawyer.”

So I took my antidepressants and I went to law school. I’m not going to rehash everything that happened there in this particular post, because in this topic, I don’t think it matters. The relevant part is that I went, and I had my reason why.

Sure as hell can tell you that law school wasn’t good for my health. The last three years have been, in terms of sheer stress and despair, the worst of my life. I picked up a self-harm habit, endured consistent humiliation, cycled through six different antidepressants, had horrible relationships, and developed a psychotic disorder. Don’t get me wrong, there were good things too. I met people that are important me, and beyond that, I grew. 

I know that 18 year old me would be absolutely flabbergasted by the woman I am now, cracks and flaws included. I wouldn’t say I’m healthy or okay, but I am more healthy and more okay. I’m coming out of this mess with the institutional power I wanted, and now I get to decide what to do with it. 

I was wrong three years ago when I looked in that bathroom mirror. I know now that I won’t be miserable for the rest of my life. I’m going to be happy someday, and to the parts of me that say otherwise: fuck you. I’ve learned to say it now. 

I graduated law school this week, and this month, I’ve felt better than I ever have before. I’m singing again, I dropped two medications, and suddenly, everything is so, so funny. I’ve been laughing so hard my face hurts the day after. 

This is a huge turning point in my life, so I’ve been meditating on my past. I’ve come to the conclusion that in most of the ways that matter, I won. My family has been forced to accept what I am. I became the person I wanted to be, even though I thought I wasn’t capable of that. 

I know for sure that there will be times in my life where I hit rock bottom again, and that’s not gonna be fun. It’s likely that with my mental health issues, I will always have to work harder than my peers to get the same results. That’s unfair. 

I also know that high points exist, and I will have them. I am having them, and I will again. 

I guess in recap, I know that I have deep flaws and ugly parts, but I am at peace with that. I know that I must help others, and in pursuit of that goal, I became a person I like more than the girl I used to be. 

You have exactly the same potential. I want you to know that whatever you are now, that’s not your forever. Circumstances change, and you will change too. We’re human, you and I, and that’s an exciting thing to be. 

Your worth comes from your humanity itself, both evil and good, not the things you do or the fights you win. You never have to compare yourself to others because you are exactly the same as everybody else-- no better, but certainly no worse. You’re a person. That’s enough. 

I’m telling you all those things, and as advice, I’ll say this: get angry and fight. Fight for others. You can help them, and you should. Fight for yourself. You are worthy of respect, and everyone else should give it to you. Fight yourself. Any part of you that preaches despair is wrong. 

Find the thing that makes you angry and use it. Things are fucked up! There’s a lot to be angry about. I put it this way to my classmates, now my attorney peers: you get one hill to die on. What’s your hill? Go and defend it. 

Here’s an interesting thing, anon. Your hill can be yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re right. Five years is a lot, and all the years beyond that are more. Take your antidepressants and go.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Communication Issues (Alternative Title: Three Touch-Starved, Insecure, Metaphysical Beings Constantly Misinterpreting Each Other and Yet Somehow Falling in Love)- Chapter One

Ao3,  MasterPost,  Chap.2,  Chap.3

Relationships: Eventual Analogince, implied Moceit

I usually have new stuff up on Wednesdays, Sorry this is late. I hope the length and angst will make up for this slight :) Also, because of how long this fucker is, I did not go in and manually add italics, so you can just. Imagine them there when you need them. 

Warnings: Panic attack (?), overworking oneself, self-hatred and insecurity, Excessive Amounts of Hurt/comfort, eventual friends-to-lovers, slow burn, arguing, crying, angst w/ a happy ending, swearing, creative blocks, mentions of isolating oneself, excessive hugging. 

Word Count: 6,396

What do you do when you find someone crying, and it’s all your fault? What do you say when you hear the muffled sobs and frantic words behind the blood-red door? When you know that, no matter how much you never wanted to hurt him- never wanted to hurt anyone- you still did. Is there anything you can do to fix it, when you’ve spent so long pretending that nothing was broken? When you’ve spent so long pretending that you didn’t care if things were broken or not? 

Well, if you're Logan Sanders, a metaphysical representation of the logical thinking of one Thomas Sanders (and you are, for the purposes of this story), then you book it down the hall in a desperate effort to find someone more emotionally competent to solve the problem. 

The search is short, lasting just to the bottom of the stairs. As soon as your feet touch down on the living room carpet, your haste brings you slamming into just the side you were looking for. Hands wrap around your middle, narrowly stopping you from stumbling over. 

“Geez, L, what’s the-” Virgil doesn’t finish his sentence, his expression wrinkling in concern when he sees your face. He leans down to your level, his gaze flickering over you to search for injuries. 

You take a step back and shake your head, struggling to explain. 

“Roman- I- He-” you’re supposed to be articulate, intelligent, eloquent- but when it comes to feelings, you never are. You never have been. You try so hard nowadays, but God, do you still need help sometimes. Like these times. These confusing, awful times when you hear dear sweet Creativity sobbing self-deprications loud enough to be heard from well outside of his room, many of which are dramatized repetitions of things that you have said to him.

“Is he okay?!” Virgil, bless him, snaps you out of the oncoming mental panic before it renders you any more useless. 

“Physically, yes- as far as I know- but emotionally, well-” you cut off, terrified of choking up. He seems to catch your meaning, though. 

Virgil doesn’t ask any follow up questions. He grabs your arm and the room blurs. Static hisses against your ears and pricks at your skin, this form of transportation being mostly foreign to you. You don’t even rise up, merely popping into existence right in front of Roman’s door. Virgil throws it open before you have the chance to react. 

Roman doesn’t notice the increased population of his room, which is concerning. His back is to the door as he works fervently at his desk, but evidently not making progress, shaking as he is. He’s muttering under his breath, much quieter than what you’d overheard before, but you can hear distinct utterances like ‘unrealistic… overused… disappointment…’ et cetera, et fucking cetera. 

“Roman, what happened?” Virgil’s voice is distorted, loud and quiet all at once. You barely keep yourself from covering your ears. 

Roman clamps his mouth shut mid-wail, his hands spasming in surprise against his desk. His quill drops to the paper with a soft clatter, a sound that echoes about the walls. Then, the only noise left is his staggering breathing.

Slowly, Roman peers over his shoulder at you, eyes puffy and red with mascara practically dripping down his chin. 

A gasp draws from you, against your will, at the sight. 

Roman makes some strangled throat-clearing sounds before trying to speak. 

“Oh, hey-” 

“Nope, none of that,” Virgil is across the room in two strides, effortlessly taking the lead in this situation. You can’t push yourself any further into the room, but you do shut the door behind you. Probably best not to involve any of the more unpredictable sides in what was sure to be an… emotionally charged discussion. 

Roman looks absolutely mortified, jolting up from his chair and backing into the wall like a cornered animal. With distance between himself and Virgil reestablished, he then buries his face in his hands. He trembles like a leaf caught in the wind of fall, and he’d probably crumble just as easily. 

Many times in your life, you’ve wished that you couldn’t feel. You even had yourself convinced that you couldn’t, for a while there. Now, all you wish is to know how to feel correctly. You’re meant to know things, Logan, aren’t you?

“Alright, so I’ve been having a bit of a rough time,” Roman’s voice cracks and wavers when he speaks, “It’s just writer’s block. Sure, I got a tad bit frustrated- but I’ll be back on track in no time, I promise! You needn’t concern yourself with my momentary lapse, I’ll have a new story for you by Saturday at the latest!” 

He’s looking at you. Virgil is standing right next to him, but he’s looking at you, all the way across the room. He’s trying to… appease you? Reason with you? Give you what he thinks you want?

Say something, Logan.

“You need to take a break, Ro,” Virgil’s voice slips back to normal, “C’mon, you’re overworking yourself,” he tries to be nonchalant, but it’s obvious just how concerned he is. You can hardly blame him. When he reaches his hand out, Roman recoils, showing his face enough to see the guilt written across it. 

You need to say something, goddammit. 

“I can’t just ‘take a break’,” he spits, “I can’t stop now. I need to get this done first- I’ll stop when I finally do this properly. So, maybe never, right?” He laughs, horrible and twisted, and he looks at you because he’s really, truly asking you. Is he really expecting you to agree? Is that the impression you’ve left him with? 

You say something.

“This is all my fault.”

Clearly, neither of them expected that. You press on.

“Your worth as a side-” no, not quite right, “-Your worth as a person is not measured solely by your productivity. I know we’ve talked before about the damages of excessive perfectionism, but I know I may not have been effective in ‘showing not telling’ that your ideas don’t need to be flawless. My harshness. My Coldness. I thought I was doing better, but obviously... I was wrong.” Again. 

Virgil looks half-way to anger, but it’s unclear what he’s directing it towards. You aren’t sure of anything right now, really, except for the general upset tugging at your stomach.

“L, no, if this is anybody’s fault- it’s mine,” he turns to Roman, and what. “I didn’t know how hard you were taking all this. Dude, I had no idea. But I owe you an apology, I have for a while, for making fun of you about your insecurity. Like, kind of a lot. Long after you stopped doing it to me. Honestly, I can’t believe that I didn’t realize how much it was actually getting to you.”

“What? Virgil, I truly appreciate what you are trying to do, but I was clearly the one who pushed Roman too far,” you find the courage to step a little closer as you argue Virgil’s point, spurred on by how ridiculous you find this exchange.

“Well, I mocked his sensitivities. This is my responsibility!”

“But you didn’t know you were doing that- I acted like I didn’t care for him, and now he thinks I don’t! I am doubtlessly the one to blame.”

Virgil looks ready to snap back, and you’d be just as ready to retort, but a quiet sniffle alerts both of your attention to the matter still at hand. Roman, standing back against the wall, growing increasingly bewildered. He’s still crying, a surprisingly open display for a prideful trait such as himself, but you get the impression that he simply can’t hold it back anymore. You can see him squirm under Virgil’s and your gazes.

“It- It’s nice, that you both are attempting to take the blame for my failings, but you don’t have to. I can figure this out for myself. Then, I’ll finally prove myself to you, and no one will need to worry about anything. Which is why I need to keep working.” 

“You have proven yourself to me,” Virgil darts from the desk to Roman. He grabs the trait’s ink-stained arm, gaze fierce and unyielding. 

“Why, then,” Roman mutters, eyes downcast, “doesn’t it feel like I have?”

“I never tried to do right by you. Like you did for me.” 

You watch them sway, awkward, and finally, finally push movement into your legs. You step to Roman’s other side, much slower. It probably appears to be deliberate, but in truth you just feel unsure. You place your hand on his shoulder in a way that is hopefully comforting.

“The same, in a different sense, is true for myself. But if you would allow us to make it up to you…?” you aren’t sure where to go from there. Virgil nods, though, granting you a hint of pride. You don’t quite buy it when he says he’s part of the problem, but you’d rather not start any arguments at this particular moment. 

Roman won’t look at either of you for longer than a second, like he’s not sure if you’re serious. Just so he knows that you are, you gesture to your necktie, giving him the tiniest smile. 

He buckles to the ground immediately, a mess of sobs, the both of you letting yourself be dragged along. He clings to Virgil, and you try to keep an arm around him as well. He needs all the support he can get, really. 

“I-I’m so so-rry, I don’t- I-” 

Virgil shushes him and shoots you a deeply concerned look: This is really bad. I’m not letting him go. You rub Roman’s back as he shakes and return your friend’s gaze with a nod: I’m not either. We’re going to help him. Don’t worry. 

The three of you sit there for what feels like hours as he cries, and cries, and cries. None of you say a word, letting him get it all out. You let him hold onto you- you hold him as well, because you’re nearly as dismayed and unsure as he is. 

But eventually, you need to talk. Once he finally settles, his head resting against your collar and his legs splayed across Virgil’s lap, it’s you who gets the proverbial ball rolling.

“You already know that overworking yourself leads to exhaustion, which in turn leads to an overall drop in productivity and quality of work,” Roman’s eyes fill with guilt, but you’re quick to elaborate, “but that isn’t at all my primary concern. I won’t carry on acting like it is for a moment longer, now that I see how it’s hurting you. Hurting you is something I would never intend. You mean so much to me. There are so many arguments I could use to convince you why you need to give yourself a break, but I’ll settle with this: a hypothetical ‘perfect story’ is not worth your suffering, and it never will be.” 

Roman looks up at you, once more crying, so that was probably a very unhelpful thing to say. But he leans into you and hugs you close, recontextualizing his emotional display. Relief washes over you. 

“Thank you, Logan.”

Virgil clears his throat.

“I know I’m not as, um, articulate as Lo is, but- for what it’s worth- I care about you, too, and all.”

You stretch out the arm that you had around Roman’s back, pulling Virgil into the hug. Roman lets out a shuddering breath from where he’s cradled between the both of you. It’s the deep, relieved breath that means the sobbing is through with, leaving only tired eyes and silence. 

It is at this point of alleviated tension that the uncomfortable nature of the floor begins irking you. Like hell you and Virgil would live Creativity alone like this, so after brief deliberation you stand to move as a unit. An amoeba of facets making their way down the hall, in a manner likely comical (though thankfully no one is around to see). Your room is the optimal place to rest, as it eases emotions and calms overthinking minds, even if it is a little chilly. 

You let your fellow traits drop down onto the couch, passing Roman the TV remote. Yes, whatever you like to watch, you inform him. Yes, really, anything, you confirm, waving your hand to conjure some blankets for them. The smile he gives you, though small, is enough to boost your hopes considerably. 

You really can’t fix everything- at least not immediately. But perhaps, with Virgil to fill in your gaps, you’ll be able to make things right for the Prince. 

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

So looking after this insecure dumbass is totally your job now. Said dumbass, of course, disagrees strongly; he tells you he’s doing better, and thanks so much for the one afternoon of help, Virgil, but he can totally take it from here. You do not give a single shit about what Roman claims, because he is very obviously lying, because he doesn’t want to be a burden. Yeah, as if. 

You’re taking care of that idiot if it kills you.

Thankfully, Logan is on the same page as you (proverbial page, as he would specify). It almost surprised you that he didn’t make himself scarce as soon as he told you about the situation, but it’s certainly a pleasant surprise to have him by your side in this. Roman needs all the help he can get, and you can’t think of anyone better.

The pair of you only begrudgingly leave him alone after a sufficient several hours of Comfort Time, retreating to the hall so he can rest. He looked so fuckin’ tired, face a dull red and eyes puffy, but he was smiling. You count it as a temporary win. 

The first thing that you do, naturally, is slam your back against the wall and let yourself slide down to the floor out of sheer emotional exhaustion. 

Logan sits next to you, much less aggressively. It’s a nice gesture, considering how he absolutely despises sitting on the ground and this is the second time he’s had to do it in one day. You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He keeps trying to say something, before clamping back down on it. You bump your shoulder against his, telling him that whatever it is, you’re listening. 

“I feel-” which is already a testament to how serious he’s taking the situation- “horrible.”

“Yeah, same- I mean, big mood- no, that’s worse, fuck-” you take a deep breath, hitting your head back against the wall, “I mean, me too. So, at least there’s that, right?” 

Logan shoots you one of his patented Microscopic Smiles.

“I suppose that counts for something, yes.” 

You manage a laugh, leaning even more against your friend. You’ve got a whole contradictory bundle of feelings coiled up in your chest, and it sucks, but also it’s a relief, but also it’s the worst thing ever. You exhale slowly, your eyes falling shut. 

“I don’t wanna leave him alone, ya know?”

“I know. We’ve done all we can do for now, though.”

“I guess.”

“I’m just glad he let us help at all.”

  “Well, assuming we did help. Who knows, we could’ve made him feel a million times worse by confronting him, and now-”

He cuts off your spiraling immediately. 

“But we didn’t. He clearly needed intervention by that point. Besides, If we’d been making it worse, it’s unlikely he would’ve let us stay for so long. Nor would he have accepted your plan of ‘helping him deal with all this shit from now on, no matter what he says.’”

“Right,” you take another deep breath, “You’re right.”

“I usually am.” 

You elbow Logan in the side, playfully. He smiles again, wider and brighter in a way that most others probably wouldn’t notice. It could, from some angles, in the right lighting, possibly maybe be considered a little bit pretty. Not that you think about things like that, of course, that would just be weird. 

You stop leaning so heavily against Logan, only to find how much your back hurts from sitting in the hall. Come to think of it, the hall might not be the best place to calm down from emotionally charged interactions. The only issue is that your room is literally the exact opposite of a good place to chill out right now, and you’re reluctant to move.

“Hey, uh, would it be okay if I- like, my room isn’t the best for times like this, and I-”

Logan’s  already standing, taking your arm to help you up. 

“Come on. I’ll set up the Planetarium for us.” 

“Thanks,” God, you’re thankful for somebody like him. Such a simple word, when you aren’t crazy about spelling out all of the gratitude and nervous tension that lays behind it, and he picks up on the layers perfectly. He gets it- he gets you. 

Things will be okay. 

<<<???>>><<<???>>><<<???>>>

Once upon a time (ha), you felt appreciated. Of course you did, else how would you remember it so vividly? How would you long for it so desperately? Yes, you can safely say that you, Roman Sanders, had once been cared for. But that was countless screw-ups ago, before hundreds of your careless insults, your many vicious words followed by weak apologies and unchanging ways. The distant past of a disgraced royal- one far too imperfect, far too cruel to be forgiven without first proving himself time and time again. 

That’s what you’d thought, anyway. When you expressed such beliefs to other sides for the first time, just a few mornings after said sides comforted you in the midst of a breakdown, they told you it was the stupidest thing they’d ever heard. Direct quote from Virgil. 

It was stupid, apparently, because you were forgiven so very long ago, and you are actually considered to be better now than you were then. It shakes you up inside to think about. In a good way, for once. 

They hover around you almost always, offering you plenty more of those somewhat aggressive reassurances whenever you give the vaguest hint of self-deprecation. You were sure they’d brush it under the rug after those first few days, perhaps even tease you about it, but it seemed that was completely false. It’s been a good week. 

They’re with you this very morning, chatting idly while you wait for the kettle to shriek. You let the drone of Logan’s voice wash over you as you finish fixing your tea. You don’t believe all of their reassurances just yet, but God are you trying. You want it to be true- more than you’ve ever wanted anything- when Logan says their care is unconditional, or Virgil says that he likes spending so much time with you. 

You turn around, the mug in your hands warm against your chest, and stare at the sides on the couch. The three of you are in your corner of the Mindscape; they had already invited themselves in when you awoke. You quite like that they do that- you still aren’t sure how to express that you want to be with them, without prompting. You would feel clingy. Greedy.

“Thank you,” you settle down Virgil, smiling groggily. He waves his hand dismissively. 

“Don’t worry about it, man. What’s on the agenda for today?” 

That’s another thing. It’s not all crying and hugging, Lord knows how old that would get- but they just end up hanging out with you. Sometimes it’s just Logan, if Virgil’s having an off day, or sometimes it’s the opposite, when Logan’s particularly busy, but you really like it best when it’s the three of you. 

That didn’t used to be unusual; you used to spend all of your time surrounded by all of your family (or most, in light of recent acceptances), laughing and joking and working all together. Then, slowly, you stopped, just as things became more complicated for everyone. Camaraderie was a waste of valuable time, time that could be used coming up with ideas that would finally be good enough. They got the hint easily enough, allowing you to isolate yourself until you were perfect for them. 

No, you aren’t thinking about that right now! It isn’t the time to worry about how this will all have to end eventually. You’ll have to think about it soon, but not now, dammit!

You swing back a sip of scalding cinnamon tea, letting it clear both your throat and your mind. 

“I have a wonderful idea for today!” You puff your chest out and straighten your back. In actuality, you haven’t had a ‘wonderful’ idea in ages, but you hope the confident stance will give you one. 

It doesn’t. Logan notices this. 

“I sincerely hope that this is not yet another attempt to ‘cure’ your writer’s block and attempt to get ‘back on task’?” he chides you. You falter, letting the regal pose fall away. Logan tells you that what you need is rest. You do not want to rest. But you don’t want to get lectured, either.

“I do not have any ideas for today. Or in general,” you grind out, the second part tacked on bitterly. You don’t look at them, even as Virgil knocks your elbow with his. 

“Good, that means you can come play Scrabble with us.”

The hesitance must show on your face, because Logan sighs and adds:

“I will allow you to use your original- completely nonsense, meaningless, irrational- words, if butchering the English language makes the game more fun for you.” 

Now that. That is a tempting offer. You really would be a fool to pass it up. 

You might as well indulge yourself this much, for however longer they’re willing to let you. It’ll be a nice memory to draw from when you do get back to work.

 Good God, your ribs hurt. You can’t breathe.

“I’m just saying, you can’t prove that the earth is round,” Virgil claims, staring mischievously across the table at Logan. Logan fumes. It is fucking hysterical.

“That’s ridiculous! Putting aside the overwhelming scientific evidence to the contrary for a moment, you can literally see the curve of the earth on the horizon!” 

“Uhh, it looks pretty flat to me. I’m not buying your government propaganda, Lo,” Virgil’s very clearly trying not to chuckle, and his resolve is impressive. You’ve already been reduced to unintelligible cackling at their interaction. This exchange has brought the progress on the jigsaw puzzle you’d been solving together to a screeching halt, but you couldn’t care less. 

“What do you mean ‘propaganda’?! This is common knowledge!”

Virgil cracks, bursting into raucous laughter. He grabs onto your arm as gravelly chuckles escape him, the both of you scrambling to keep upright. Logan narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Unbelievable. Infuriating. Intolerable, the both of you.”

You compose yourself just enough to stick your tongue out at him teasingly, before hunching right back over into your giggle fit.

Then, you notice it as it happens. The aggravated expression etched across Logan’s face shifts, but he keeps staring at you. It’s inscrutable, and also weird. 

“What’re you looking at?” you challenge, voice broken up by subsiding laughter. You turn your head to Virgil, as if to say wow, what a nerd, huh?, only to find him staring at you with much the same expression. 

“Guys? Is something the matter?”

“It’s nothing,” Anxiety amends.

“I’m sure we were both just caught off guard, is all,” Logic adds, his attention redirected from you to the carpet hastily.

“In a good way, though. It’s nice to see you smile- ugh, that sounds so weird, I just meant- it’s been a long time since you’ve. Done that.”

You blink, taken aback, only to feel the dull ache in your face. You reach a hand up, pressing a finger to the corner of your upturned lips. It really has been a while since you’ve laughed like this, hasn’t it? 

A selfish, malicious creature that stalks around in your chest tells you to stop smiling. If you’re happy it means that their job is done, then you’ll be all alone again. Is that what you want, Roman? 

You almost listen to it. Before-

“Don’t think that I’ve forgotten what you said just because Roman laughed, V.”

“Nah, you never forget anything, O keeper of memories,” Virgil flicks a puzzle piece at Logan, smirking just enough to show off his sharp teeth. 

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” he flicks another puzzle piece. Logan’s face twitches in what is either a barely suppressed smile or a grimace, but likely a combination of the two. When Virgil finally aims a piece to hit his face, he snaps, throwing little bits of the jigsaw back at the anxious trait.

“Wow, L, you’re really just throwing away all our progress like that? Tsk, tsk.”

“I will end you,” he lands one smack on Virgil’s nose, earning a hiss. The puzzle continues to be destroyed by their squabble. 

You don’t think you could stop yourself from beaming at them, even if you wanted to. Toothy, confident, amused- oh, how you’ve missed this.

How you’ve all missed this.

 It hits you with the swiftness of a bullet, right when you least expect it. You’re just sitting in the living room, idly sketching as you half-watch TV with Patton beside you on the couch. You offer a laugh when he pipes up with a pun based on whatever’s on screen, but your mind is far elsewhere.

You’ve got an idea. A really good one. 

You’ve filled up a page with mindless doodling while the thought was still forming, for fear of jumping on it too suddenly and losing the inspiration, but you find it solid as you continue to mentally examine it. Perhaps a bit overeager, you flip the page, scrawling excited concept sketches across the thick, rough paper. The details flow and evolve in your mind’s eye, and it becomes something of a struggle to hold back your creative aura from infecting the common area. 

That confident smile, one you’ve been wearing more and more often these past few weeks, graces your face once more. The semi-subconscious expression brings a memory from just nights ago: Logan told you that your face was built to wear such a grin (‘Speaking architecturally, of course,’ he cleared his throat awkwardly, ‘The form that you’ve chosen for yourself is suited to it. Objectively.’). 

You find your smiling widening, just as it had when he first told you. 

So caught up in your art, half-listening to Patton, and also vaguely following along with the show he’s watching- you don’t even glance up when Virgil rises up and seats himself at the arm of the couch. It’s the way he huffs a laugh at something Morality says that first catches your attention, and suddenly he’s got all of it. 

“Virgil!” 

He grimaces at the volume, tilting his head to look at you. 

“Something got you excited, Ro?” 

“I’ve got a story! That is to say, I’ve got a premise, but also characters! Look- it’s- come here, let me show you what I’m drawing, it’s easier than explaining,” you chatter happily, shuffling your way to Virgil’s perch. You hold your sketchbook out to him and jump into explanations.

The drawing is messy, and not nearly finished, but it’s you and it’s good and it’s new. It’s a scene- heavily annotated to explain some of the more abstract concepts in the image- depicting an ent-like creature towering over a young woman, who holds a flower crown up to him. You tell Virgil about the story based around the two, some of the major plot points already planting themselves in your brain. You inform him that it just came to you, and you’ve got so many different ideas for what these two will do, what will happen to them, and how they’ll get out of it all. When you look up from your rambling, all the excitement slips off your face. It’s replaced by awe. 

Virgil is grinning, showing a good deal more of his fangs than he usually likes to, enthusiasm dancing in his eyes. You’ve never seen him emote that much ever, not for any purpose. You would be lying if you said that those huge chompers weren’t at least a little hot. 

“Okay, I totally wanna hear more, but pause for a sec. I gotta get Lo, ’kay?” And with that, he’s gone as quickly as he arrived, pausing only to toss the sketchbook back to you. You twist around, eyes wide with shock, to find Patton smiling softly at you. 

“You saw that, too, right? Or have I gone mad?” you ask him, earning a chuckle.

“I think Virge is proud of you,” he shuts the TV off as he talks, moving to stand, “I am, too! It sounds really cute!”

“Thank you,” Patton arches up to stretch, tossing the remote down on the couch. “-Er, where are you off to?”

“I think I’ll let you three have the living room, to talk all about your story.” 

“I’d hardly mind if you wanted to hear about it!”

His eyes dart to the side, an awkward smile stretching across his face. His noticeably pink face.

“Oh, I- I was planning on spending some time with Jan today. I was about to take off, anyhow.”

“Aah,” you start sketching again, if only to spare Patton your wolfish grin, “Well, if you’ve already got plans.”

He gives you a tiny wave, sinking out immediately. Thus leaving you alone with your thoughts. Fuck. 

It crosses your mind that- now you have an idea to work on, an idea you’re proud of- your slump is over. The creative block has been cured. Logan and Virgil won’t need to coddle you anymore. 

Your hand ghosts over the paper, and for a second you consider tearing it up. Pretending you lost the spark, pretending you need more time and help and companionship. Guilt rises in you at even the thought of being so selfish, the doubts and worries overpowering your former giddiness completely. 

You can’t imagine anything worse than that brilliant smile Virgil gave you turning to disappointment, if you pretended to lose your inspiration. Or the disdain that would surely flash in Logan’s eyes at having his work interrupted for absolutely nothing. Plus, if you did so, what’s to stop them deeming you a lost cause and abandoning you anyway? 

If you’re being honest, you need approval more than anything. And dear God, it is so close. You have to tell them, and hold on to whatever scraps of praise it earns you before the three of you revert back to normal. You’ll fall back into seclusion, as that seems to be one of the few things you’re good at, and they can actually get back to their own existences. 

There’s a whoosh behind you. You spin around, forcing the tension out of your shoulders. 

“Well hello there!”

“I want to hear about your story,” Logan cuts straight to the point. You couldn’t care less about his bland bluntness because he is watching at you in a way so unbearably fond. They both are. You push your reservations down and present him with your sketches, diving into what you’ve come up with so far (plus a few extra points off the top of your head, which isn’t an uncommon method for how you develop plotlines). 

When you’ve finished, not quite as exuberantly as earlier, Logan continues with the theme of surprising the fuck out of you that this day has established. 

He settles a hand on your upper arm, but really he might as well have swept you up in a hug. You blanch, the touch fuzzing up your brain, just like it has been doing so often now and God you don’t want to lose this. 

“I told you so,” he sounds playful.

“What?” you question, vaguely dazed.

“I think that L’s saying we were right about you just needing a break. Seems like the rest cleared up your burnout pretty well,” Virgil loops around to your other side, patting your shoulder awkwardly. 

The euphoria from being touched is broken once you actually manage to process the words.

“Oh! Right, yeah, I'm- I'm so excited to get back to work!”

Logan removes his hand and you burn cold. 

“No, you aren't,” you hear his confusion, like he's trying to unravel why that could possibly be and wow you are not as good an actor as you’d hoped. “What's upsetting you?”

You try to say that it's nothing, but your voice pitches up embarrassingly. You clear your throat, but you can't make yourself maintain eye-contact anymore.

“Dude, you can tell us what's up. Are you just overwhelmed?” Anxiety is worried and caring in a way you didn't know he was capable of and it hurts worse because you don't know how to tell him that you're just selfish. But you knew this was coming- and you aren't going to make these two waste their concerns on you any longer. The problem has been solved, Roman, get that through your skull! 

“I- I suppose I'm just- I’m lamenting the end of this. It’s unimportant.”

“You are upset about the end of your writer's block?” Logan tips his head to the side and gives you a bemused look. Frustration stabs at your skin.

“No! That's a good thing, obviously it's a good thing- I'm saying that I'm going to miss… I mean, I'd gotten used to spending time with you. The both of you,” Virgil's eyebrows shoot up, Logan squints at you, so you backpedal like there's no damn tomorrow.

“See? It was stupid, I know I can't always have all the attention, any-”

“You're right, that is stupid,” Virgil cuts you off with a grumble. You must deflate visibly, though, because his voice softens, “That you think we aren't gonna hang out with you, I mean.”

You feel something. You think it’s hope. It almost feels foreign- unbelievable, even. 

“What?” a murmur, too small and doubting for you to associate with it, though it must be yours. Pathetic.

Logan leans forward, as though he's studying you. Good God, who let him be so tall?

“Were you under the impression that we were going to cease contact with you once you resumed productivity?”

“Wha- I mean- when you say it like that it sounds… bad.”

“It would be bad. It would also be incredibly manipulative; being kind to you only so as to get you back in working order, rather than being kind to you to provide genuine help.”

Virgil nods his agreement.

“Yeah, you aren't getting rid of us that easy, Romano.”

You recall the first Big Conversation you had with the two left-brained sides. They'd insisted to help you, despite your lack of understanding in the beginning why they'd do so. Similarly to that talk, this is filling you with an almost painful fondness, almost too much to bear.

“But, you already helped me, just like you said you would!”

“Why did we help you, Roman?” Logan inquires, in a way that makes you feel like you should know the answer. You do not. 

“Because you were worried about me?”

“Why would we be worried?”

“Because you… felt bad for me?”

He groans, tapping Virgil on the shoulder. The anxious facet rolls his eyes.

“You're our friend and we care about you, stupid.”

You clear your throat, attempting to say that you knew that (even if that isn’t entirely true), but Logan interrupts you. 

“In case it wasn’t clear why, allow us to explain: one, as I’ve stated before and will likely state again, we don’t value you for your ability to create alone.”

“Two,” Virgil cuts in, “You’re, like, fun to be around. Way less stiff than us, and honestly we probably need that.”

“Three, we were never opposed to being around you even before the- this. You claimed to like being alone. And I’ll admit I’m not the best with subtext.” 

Virgil looks ready to add a fourth. You don’t let him, waving your hands wildly. If you verbalized what you meant to convey, you’d definitely start sobbing, and that’s just embarrassing. Thankfully, Anxiety seems to pick up what you’re laying down, giving you a moment to collect yourself. You take a few breaths and try to pretend that you aren’t being watched like a hawk.

Aaaand you’re already crying. That’s probably the point of no return, isn’t it? 

“Ha, and I thought that you two weren’t the sentimental ones,” the effect of your teasing is ruined by how much your voice wavers, “You’re just big softies, aren’t you?”

Logan’s expression is caught somewhere between concern and confusion.

“You are quite literally sobbing? How are we-”

“Shut up,” you retort. The effect is once again ruined when he comfortingly pats your back and you absolutely fall against him. 

“Wow, again? You’re really set on making a habit out of this,” Virgil hovers uncomfortably apart from the set of you, eventually landing on wrapping an arm around you. And it’s so him, that you can’t help the little chuckle that breaks through your crying. You really have been doing this a lot more than you’d like lately. 

“I- I’m okay,” you stammer, “I’m good- this is- just- I’m relieved. Why am I crying? I’m happy!” 

“It’s alright, man.”

“Yes, take as long as you need.”

You tear yourself away from them, scrubbing at your eyes, but grinning all the same. Your skin burns, you’re shivering, but you’re sick of clinging to them and crying and the desperation that tugs at you. You feel so many things, but there’s one that’s overpowering, one thing that’s so familiar and has been so distant. It’s a blur, a mash, but it goes something like this:

The people you care about, that you work so hard for- they aren’t going anywhere. No conditions. Logan repeats it plenty, Virgil shows it to you quietly, but only now-

Now you believe them. You feel looked after. Cared for. If you’re being bold, you could even say loved. 

You feel secure. 

“Thank you,” for being there, staying there, helping you, everything. You can’t thank them enough for everything.

Virgil shrugs. 

“You’re worth it.”

[dangerousfwellows]

FLUSTERED. Lawrence

request: Hiii! can I get a Lawrence imagine where the reader tells Judy that she likes Lawrence, and they have a moment together where she reveals she likes him after judy tells her to. Maybe it’s just really fluffy and he’s kinda shocked and is embarrassed/flustered?

warnings: female pronouns, everyone is alive in this, Lawrence is obviously a little ooc as he’s usually very confident.

 Word count: 1,775

Your arrival to the school was somewhat of a strange one. Was it good? Bad? There were positives, reuniting with Judy and meeting the benevolent and rather… attractive men and women in her group. And not to mention finally being swarmed and surrounded with other humans. Isolation was terrible in an apocalyptic world, it was bad enough feeling lonely in a normal situation, but being alone whilst surrounded by zombies? It was strange and macabre. Death gloomed at every corner, leaking through each little crack of safety, disturbing the previously peaceful world. The negatives? Well, Scarlett mostly. Though, you were sure she was probably just frightened, her emotions getting the best of her. You couldn’t blame her, at a time like this.

You would quickly settle into the group, offering help and assisting on patrols on nightwatches, earning you keep. Your relationship with Judy blossomed, your friendship as strong as ever. Her happiness really stood out against the bleakness. It was… refreshing. You also began to grow closer to the group’s leader, Lawrence. He was undeniably beautiful, his dishevelled chestnut hair, russet eyes surrounded by dark, long lashes and his pale smooth skin was very attractive to you. Every time he would smile at you, the myriad of butterflies would explode in your stomach. A sense of familiarity irked you. You were sure you remembered him from somewhere, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. So, you decided to confide in Judy.

“Ah! So you do like him!”

Judy exclaimed, an excited twinkle in her eyes. You felt a flush rise to your face.

“I-I’m not saying I like him, I just… find him attractive.”

Your sentence had trailed off into a mumble. You were currently sitting in your shared classroom, resting after a long day of patrolling. Judy had noticed your shy body language around Lawrence, and decided to go into her detective mode and uncover the truth. She nodded in response, waiting for you to continue, which makes you sigh softly and decide to just tell her how you feel exactly.

“Well, I don’t know… I seem to remember him from somewhere, but I can’t remember where from, exactly. And I am attracted to him, I mean he’s really beautiful, and kind. I think he’s a perfect leader for us. It’s just, I wouldn’t be able to express this to him. He’s kind of… intimidating.”

Judy chuckled shortly,

“Look, y/n! I think you should just talk to him, bring it up casually. Maybe he feels the same, I would be surprised if he didn’t. And you only find him intimidating because you’re nervous. Maybe you should try flirting with him?”

You smiled lightly and nodded,

“I suppose… I’ll try in the morning. Thank you, Judy.”

She grinned sweetly and nodded, and both of you eventually drifted off to sleep.

The morning finally came around, sun beams peeped through the battered old blinds that covered the windows. You stirred slightly, a soft exhale leaving your lips as you awoke. You hurriedly dressed and got ready, rushing to classroom 1-C, where Lawrence was usually, preparing for the day. He was always up before everyone else, he was the leader after all.

You slid the door to the classroom open, instantly Lawrence, fussing over today’s rations. He turns his head to the sound of the door opening, and he greets you with his usual adorable smile.

“Good morning, y/n. You’re up early.”

He spoke, turning away from you and returning to the desk that he was working at. He felt your eyes burning into him, carefully observing him as you slowly approached him.

“Well, so are you.”

You replied swiftly, standing by his side.

“Anything I can do to help?”

You asked, gesturing to the breakfast he was sorting out for the group. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, he shook his head, his chestnut locks framing his face.

“That’s alright, I’m just finishing up anyway.”

You nod, offering him a small smile. You sat at a desk next to him, biting your lip as a silence engulfed the room. You shifted slightly, eyes trailing over the busy male.

“you know…” You begin, and Lawrence’s russet orbs flicker over to you, “I recognise you, from before all this.”

He smirks lightly, turning his focus onto you as he leans against a desk.

“Oh? Is that so?”

You nod,

“Mm, but I can’t remember where from exactly.”

He simply crosses his arms, and you take a step towards him, eyes scanning him, desperate to try and recall. The glint in his eyes told you that he seemed to remember. He feels his face heating up lightly at your closeness. He remembered you, of course, and his heart fluttered like a pair of wings on a snowy white dove at the thought you also remembering him. You let out a sigh and pout,

“Won’t you tell me?” You ask, watching the soft, rose blush increase across his pale face as you leant closer to him, resting you head on his shoulder. He tensed lightly at you touch, but quickly relaxed. He chuckled and shook his head.

“I guess you’ll just have to try harder to remember, hm?”

He pulled away from you as Eugene and Zion entered 1-C, whining about being hungry.

You and Lawrence didn’t have any other… moments together for a while, to your (and Judy’s) disappointment. That would change, however. He, you, Zion and Ethan were on a supply run. Ration were running dangerously low, and food was needed. So, here you all were, silently searching for grocery stores across a street that the group hadn’t raided yet. It was a dismal, grey day. Rainclouds and thunder loomed in the atmosphere. You were all slightly grateful for this however, the roars and groans of thunder acted as a shield for noise, allowing you to wander the streets with only a few zombies roaming around, not paying any attention to any of you. Lawrence stopped walking, gesturing for the group to come closer.

“There’s a grocery store over there. Let’s go in, everyone be on guard, okay? We can’t get ahead ourselves because there aren’t many zombies out here, anything could be lurking in there.”

You all nodded in response, grateful for Lawrence’s careful leadership skills. Ethan tightened his grip on his bat, and you all began making you way to the store. Lawrence peered into the glass windows in the door, furrowing his brows as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He nodded, signalling it seemed safe to go inside. You all entered the store slowly, eyes darting around for any wandering zombies.

“Alright, let’s spread out. Zion and Ethan, you two take the front of the store. Y/n, we’ll take the back.”

Your leader spoke, keeping his voice low and quiet. Ethan and Zion head to the back, and Lawrence leads you to the aisles in the back. You begin searching shelves, placing anything valuable into your bags. A sudden bolt of lightning crashes loudly and abruptly, practically making you jump out of your skin. You feel a hand on you shoulder, comforting you from the sudden rush of fear. You turn you head to see Lawrence.

“Are you alright?” He asks, and you hurriedly nod. You turn more towards him as the soft patter of rain hits the glass windows. This all seemed so familiar, being near Lawrence, surrounded by rain, the two of you alone. Then it hit you, that’s where you remember him from. He beams as you nod, and begins to turn away, going back to searching.

“Lawrence!”

You blurt out, and he faces you with a slight look of confusion. That night had never left your mind, before the apocalypse. You had lent Lawrence your umbrella on an inclement day, and after that, he lingered in your mind. He was undeniably handsome, and even though you hadn’t met or seen him since, you couldn’t but long to see him again, creating little fantasies in your mind. You stare at the male in front of you, watching him look at you with a raised eyebrow at your sudden outburst, to which you now stood silently in front of him. You think back to Judy’s encouragement to just tell Lawrence about you little crush, but you couldn’t find the words. it wouldn’t hurt to… show him, would it? You take a few steps forwards, and he in response takes a few uneasy steps back, his back hitting a, thankfully empty, shelf.

“uh, wha-“

You cut him off with a hesitant kiss, feeling him tense up, the kiss was over as quickly as it started as you pull away, noticing his flushed face.

“W-what was that for?”

He mumbled, avoiding your eyes as he pushes his glasses up into place.

“I remembered you.”

You reply swiftly,

“…and I, well, I kind of, have feelings for you, I’ve been attracted to you since we first met.”

Lawrence stays silent during your confession, leaning back against the pillar behind him. You grow nervous at his silence, mentally wishing he would say something.

“Sorry for kissing you… I got ahead of myself, I’ll just forget-”

He cuts you off by grabbing your wrist gently and clearing his throat. “No, no… it’s okay. I, ah, I… feel the same.”

A smile tugs at you lips as you lean into him, kissing him once again. He hesitantly hovers his hands over your body, before softly gripping at your waist, you hungrily push your body flush against him, nibbling gently on his lip. The kiss heats up slightly, your leg pushed between his, desperately gripping at each other as if you were each other’s lifeline. It was just your feelings for each other, the touch of another person was something you both craved, there was hardly any affection shared nowadays. You were interrupted by a loud “ew” to which you quickly separated and saw Zion watching you two with a smirk on his face.

“I was just going to say that Ethan and I are done, but… I see you’re busy.”

Lawrence flushes again, turning his head away from Zion’s cocky gaze.

“Uh, okay… Y/n and I are almost done, we can leave in a minute.”

The fiery haired male raises an eyebrow and replies with a simple,

“‘kay.”

He exits and you listen to his quiet footsteps retreating, whilst turning to Lawrence. He smiles sheepishly at you.

“I guess we should hurry up finish our search.”

You nod, a small smile resting on your lips as you continue searching the shelves with Lawrence.

“You know… You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“…Shut up.”

[whetstonefires]

Sephiroth, 1, 2, 5, 9, 12, 16, 20. I find your take on him so interesting! (And kind of sad too...)

Oh gosh this is so many! Haha okay, here goes.

1.Their physical weak spots

Huh. He’s programmed to be literally impossible to damage in the one actual fight in the Nibel flashback, the dragon. I theorize this might have been his first-level Limit? But of course you can’t use a Limit unless you’ve been injured first. (Apparently they reversed this in the Remake which is a major thematic change and I don’t like it? Anyway tho.)

So on one level his physical untouchability is part of his trademark and there’s a temptation to say ‘none’ and be done with it.

Normal human weak spots, I imagine, he’s not as alien as all that. The throat is the throat, I mean. His disinclination for wearing shirts may suggest an indifference to thoracic damage, but between his tendency to not get hit at all and the existence of healing magic that doesn’t necessarily mean much.

The vertical pupils which can dilate much further than normal would make him particularly vulnerable to flashbangs used in a dark or even dim environment. I assume Wutaian ninjas exploited the heck out of that. :D

2. Their emotional/moral weak spots

Abandonment issues was a big one, I think, and all the huge gaping vulnerabilities created by being a child with no one to love, or who loved you.

Thinking outside of Shinra’s standard pathways is a matter of some anxiety to him, in Crisis Core–his idea of resistance is ‘find my friend first and then oops fail to kill him they can’t prove it was on purpose’ and then later ‘turn down the assignment to find my friend and kill him.’ There’s just, a lot of emotional dependence on a toxic structure indicated by his behavior patterns.

I’m sure that was deliberately instilled, but it’s not that hard. His superpowers aren’t Superman scale self-sufficient until after he ‘dies’ once, and capitalism does what it does. He’s not much less dependent on the Company for survival than the average worker, and more so for identity.

Morally he was disadvantaged by being a corporate supersoldier with Hojo as his parent–the details of his upbringing have never been clarified but they sure didn’t put him anywhere outside Shinra enough for him to form external attachments, or even powerful internal personal ones prior to the rather shaky ones he managed with two peers sometime in adolescence, which leaves fairly few possibilities really.

Anyway morally he’s nothing but weaknesses, even before he got tangled up with The Thing From The Northern Crater and decided he was God and should consume all life. ^^;

5. Guilty pleasures 

You know, I don’t think even pre-evil Sephiroth did guilt much? Waste of energy, and (see above) he wasn’t socialized for it, it’s counterproductive in a soldier. The ‘guilt’ in guilty pleasure is really a species of shame though, and anyone with that much pride is vulnerable to the opposite, even if they weren’t exposed to someone like Hojo growing up….

You know, it was probably novels? He was a reader, and one of the most personal things we know about him from the OG is the deep impression left by Hojo’s furious rant about how inappropriate it was to use poetic expressions about magic. Even ‘magic’ was too sentimental for this domineering science twit.

So, every so often growing Sephiroth would get his hands on a piece of fiction, and the quality wasn’t necessarily great because it was whatever he could pick up in the break room or wherever, but he’d hole up out of sight and scarf it down. Even once he had his own living space and salary and could buy whatever books he wanted and store them, he’d pick up novels on the sly and get rid of them once he was done, like someone was going to catch him. One of the things he used to pick out of the ruins in Wutai during the looting was books.

He always felt a confusing mess of jealousy and scorn about Genesis’ Loveless thing. That he could just like it like that, constantly, right out in the open, where anyone could laugh at him. That nobody had ever taken it away.

Less tragically, I think sometimes he’d go home and watch bad TV. Whatever Midgar’s stupidest soap opera was. Sephiroth caught enough of the reruns to know most of the main plots. He had an opinion about who the father of Jaqueline’s baby should have turned out to be. He would never admit this.

9. Humiliating memories

Okay, as touched on above repeatedly, he grew up with Hojo, who loves breaking people down and laughing at them, so he’s probably got a lot of these.

The worst one is one time when he had a weak moment or an optimistic one, and asked out loud in words for something he really, really wanted, and Hojo said yes, and gave Sephiroth just enough time to get desperately excited and express gratitude before laughing at him and saying of course he was lying. Don’t be stupid.

That isn’t something important enough to bother with.

12. Grudges and vendettas 

‘Burning inside with violent anger’ isn’t there for no reason. From Nibelheim on these define him, and according to bonus materials of middling canon status he eventually sheds almost all identity elements but his grudges.

I think, based on the shape of his breakdown? That for most of his life he told himself that holding onto anger and pursuing grudges was a waste of time and energy. But that didn’t actually help him let any of it go, he just internalized and ignored things. Because he wasn’t actually not holding grudges, he was just reacting like someone who didn’t have any choices, and marinating in spite.

Spite against Hojo surfaces on the way up to the reactor in a way that says to me it’s a habit, almost a reflex. But it manifests in profound pettiness, and I think that’s the only way he normally felt he was permitted to act out against the people who really bothered him, though I’m also sure he channeled a lot of anger into unrelated killing. Natural thing to do when you’re a frustrated teenager who’s supposed to be killing people anyway.

By the time he did it in Nibelheim, it was an old habit.

The fact that he bothered to personally kill the Shinra President as his big debut says to me he was holding a grudge about his entire life against the person who commissioned him and declared the war and shaped the floating Midgar-world that defined his life. I think there were probably a lot of personal insults in there too, just because of the way Shinra Sr. seems to have conducted himself generally.

He’s a Donald Trump expy wouldn’t you.

Sephiroth is written as a much softer person in Crisis Core, almost absurdly so, but even there you can see him resenting Genesis and Angeal more than a little for abandoning him. It probably brought back his whole mess of feelings about Gast, who really did abandon him quite unforgivably but Sephiroth never knew the full circumstances, just that he was gone and later dead. There are signs he blamed Hojo, who doesn’t seem to have gloated openly about the murder even if he did make sure to inform the boy his favorite person was dead now.

And of course later on there’s Cloud, which doesn’t actually make that much sense until you loop in the retcon about Cloud throwing him into the reactor and cutting short his initial rampage. There’s the grudges he seems to have inherited from Jenova, against the Cetra.

It’s not out of the question that he killed Aerith the way he did in part because she was the thing Gast abandoned him for, as well as all the other less personal reasons. I sort of like to think so.

16. Dark secrets/’skeletons in the closet’

Of his own, as opposed to ‘about him’ that he found out about, I don’t think he really had many? He wasn’t much accustomed to privacy.

I think most of the worst things he did, as a human being rather than a transhuman monstrosity, were pretty unavoidably public; they were war crimes, and happened in front of some fraction of the rest of the army. He was praised for them.

There probably were a lot of dark things he never talked to anyone about, that weren’t really known, but except for outright humiliating childhood incidents like above he wasn’t particularly hiding them. He was just never in a position where it would have made any sense to him to bring them up.

Genesis wasn’t ever someone it was safe to be vulnerable around, and Angeal was uncomfortable with too much emotion, and besides they were fellow soldiers and it wasn’t like the things he didn’t talk about from the war were anything special, and he wasn’t going to complain about his childhood to them. And who else was there?

Dude needed so much therapy.

20. What-ifs/Alternate Timelines 

I go absolutely nuts with alternate timelines for Sephiroth. He’s so much fun to work with that way.

Lucretia and Vincent stole the baby and went on the run: Firo grew up kinda isolated in the woods with his parents but runs away at thirteen to fight Shinra because he’s so mad they had to leave Wutai because of the invasion. Parzival AU.

Ifalna recruited Sephiroth to her escape scheme and he wound up raising Aerith on the run, under the names Rith and Roth. Beloved Dust AU, that one’s actually online as you may very well know lol.

Vincent blew up the Nibelheim reactor with Hojo and Jenova in it when Sephiroth was six, and then later Midgar blew up as well and the Shinra world order collapsed, and the recently married Mrs. Strife adopted the weird lab kid. Later on Cloud pressures his big brother into starting an anti-bandit militia. Time Of General Strife AU.

Cute three-way blood brothers ceremony contaminates Genesis’ body with Sephiroth’s DNA and sets off his degeneration several years early, when they’re all teenagers and not nearly as famous, powerful, or fucked in the head. Brother and Brother AU.

And so on. ;}