#and condescending and i had a terrible superiority complex

[fenny-self-ships]

Hiiiiiiiii

Idk if you’re comfortable with hurt/comfort, but if you are I got a request for you! Lol

Basically, the idea is headcanons (or writing) of Jafar with an S/O that suffered SEVERE narcissistic abuse, and him quickly dealing just how much damage behaviors like his can cause. Like, he has to calm them down from a ptsd flashback, and they end up saying something about the “mind games” they were always playing, and how they were always on eggshells, and he’s basically over here like “ohhhh fuk…I do that kind of thing to people…”

Ooh some hurt comfort?? Coming right up 👀

I'm by no means an expert on this topic, so I'll stick with headcannons for now, but if you like 'em I'm more than open to writing a full imagine in future!!

Cracks my knuckles

Jafar with an abused S/O~!

Given the way he speaks, I wouldn't be surprised if it was something he said that triggered the unfortunate episode

A nasty, condescending comment about a hobby of yours, a hissing remark correcting your behaviour, or even deliberately misconstruing something you've said -- Incredibly self-serving, of course, but he's a master manipulator, and can very easily play the victim in even the tiniest arguments

Nothing could prepare him, however, for the sudden fit of anxiety and terror his words would induce

He is WOEFULLY uneducated on such things, and would regrettably have absolutely zero clue how to approach the situation -- He'd more than likely just freeze, simply staring down at you as you crumble

Once he's snapped out of his stupor, his first instinct would be to remove himself from the situation

He's clearly upset you, and he'd rather die than debase himself by admitting to his own wrongs. What a PATHETIC move that would be, huh?? (/sar)

Perhaps not the greatest instinct, but he'd give you time to cool off, to return to yourself, before slinking back in to discuss what caused your 'hysteria' (🙄🙄)

Likely with some warm tea to show in the smallest sense that he does actually CARE about you. It's not much, but it might be enough to get you talking

He would have fully intended to make a half-assed attempt at listening, followed by an empty promise to 'do better' and some kisses to top it off, but, in true Jafar fashion, his interest is piqued when you start describing the shit that he is oh so good at

The insufferable superiority complex, the 'do-no-wrong' mentality, the near constant mind games, manipulation and victimisation -- every single experience you describe he resonates with far too much

He hasn't had much experience with guilt, but you're his beloved. He cares about you. The sickly feeling creeps, resting heavier and heavier on his shoulders the more you manage to tell him

Truly an 'ohhhh fuck... I do that shit' moment if there ever was one

It's become second nature to him, almost a survival tactic -- not any excuse for his behaviour, of course, but he rarely gives a second thought to how awful the effects can be

He hates that it was you who had to tell him. He's supposed to be your biggest supporter, not your worst enemy

His illusion of perfection is shattered -- You aren't lucky to be with him, HE'S lucky you've put up with his disposition for as long as you have. He feels terrible.

All at once, you're wrapped up in a hug. Physical touch isn't his forte, but when you're as bad at apologies as he is, sometimes you have to compromise

This may be the first time you've ever heard a genuine 'sorry' from him

He will make an effort. Not to better himself as a whole, hell no, but to be better for you. The last thing he'd want to do is hurt you the way you've been hurt before. That'd be the WORST thing for his overinflated ego.

He's trying <3

[asktheplethaura]

Demon Slayer Head-canon #1

Obanai Hates Giyuu:

So, this random headcanon came to me while I was watching gacha videos. Funny enough, there was no terribly long explanation given for why Sanemi and Obanai don't like Giyuu because 'Giyuu thinks he is better than everyone else, because he's different.'

But I have a different theory for my train of thought.

Obanai is always represented hating Giyuu more.

Which is believable to me- for one reason.

From what I can tell, Obanai's family are all black haired females. From what bit I do know.

These black females almost all have longer hair, and the couple we see with actual facial representation are going to hopefully further convey my train of thought.

This one that I did find is a good starter.

From the lifestyle Iguro lived, I can only infer that Iguro was surrounded by females in the family with long blach hair, and cold or stone faced expressions. Especially if they were mostly older than children.

Due to Giyuu's past, which is unknown to most of the Hashira- if I am not mistaken- leaves Giyuu stone-faced or cold natured.

Hence constant comments about his attitude, mostly from a couple fellow hashira.

Even if Giyuu wasn't so distanced from everyone- I think the possibility of Obanai hating Giyuu would still be high- without Obanai even knowing it because it would be a subconscious thing.

Obanai is said to not be too fond of women. Mitsuri being the only main acceptation of this. Shinobu seems to be mutual respect and nothing more.

Another character that thinks highly of himself is Tengen. However, this factors in differently. So he is not the best example for superiority complex, but it is about as close as it will get.

The major differences being that Tengen has a healtheir superior personality than the one they thought Giyuu had- which is condescending.

All in all, it's just food for thought. For all I know, Obanai just don't like Tomioka because of the one reason stated by them in the show.

However, I think there can be a deeper, less-realized reason as to why Obanai hates him so much. Something that feels like a more solidified reason for disliking him to such a degree.

[duckapus]

(So, most Storyweavers are just as terrible as Lydia, some even more-so, and I thought of a funny way to show that. Don't worry about when exactly this would take place, it's probably just part of one of CCC's Cosmos-based promotional videos so technically it doesn't happen in-universe of the AU at all.)

Lydia's wandered out from her and the girls' hideout, looking for a good hook for her next meal, when she hears one of her least favorite sounds in the world.

"Yoo~hoooo! Ly~di~aaaaa!"

"Fucking hell," Well, so much for the one benefit she thought her banishment had.

As she resigns herself to her inevitable torment, a comically small and cutesy Storyweaver with green twintails and a blindingly bright yellow dress comes up to her, "Oh my dear sweet Lydia, I'm so delighted to see you again!"

"Hello, Rhythmi..."

"It's been quite a long while since we've seen one another, hasn't it?" several decades, not that that was really all that long for a Storyweaver, and horribly short compared to the 'rest of forever' that she'd been hoping for, "It was before your banishment, wasn't it. I could scarcely believe it when I heard the news. Hm, then again, you always did love playing with your food growing up. Where are the delectable little morsels you threw your life away for, anyway?"

She doesn't even try masking her contempt, "What do you want, Rhythmi?"

"Mmm, sore subject?" A wince and pout never looked so smug, "Very well, I did have something I wanted to show you." she begins leading her much taller 'friend' along, their casual stroll crossing hundreds of lightyears in seconds, "See, I've just created a true work of art, and exile or no I just had to show it to my oldest, dearest friend before anyone else."

They come to a stop at a universe bustling with activity, "And here we are! Please, take a peek darling."

Lydia rolls her three functional eyes and kneels to take a look, only to gape in astonishment at what she sees, "No way..."

"Beautiful, isn't it?" She looks inside as well, reveling at the sight of what the audience will recognize as the setting of Connected Cosmos: The Game, "Nine worlds snared in my web at once, with plenty of room -and time- for more. That's a record, if I'm not mistaken."

Indeed it was. Lydia would know, seeing as she'd been the previous holder with a count of four.

"I'll admit that The Twilight's not the most complex antagonist -especially compared to yours, you really do have such a way with words, my dear- but it's ever so versatile."

After a few more moments watching the narrative below play out, Rhythmi stands up and makes a show of brushing the stardust off her dress, "Well, it's been lovely catching up with you, but I'm afraid I must be off," translation; I've had my fill of rubbing my successes in your face and proving my superiority, again.

She opens up a portal to wherever it is she's staying while maintaining her current web, waving demurely to her 'dear friend,' "do tell your adorable little pets their auntie Rhythmi said 'hello,' darling! Ta~taaaa!"

"...Fucking condescending bitch."

[emmaelix]

I Needed Love: The Perfect Storm Chapter Two Rewrite

I play Time Princess. Sue me. I’m writing fanfic for a video game. Won’t be the first, certainly not the last. This is basically a rewrite of chapter two of The Perfect Storm. Most definitely on the Charles Vane route, if you haven’t read TPS or finished the second chapter I do not recommend this as it is spoilers. And yes, I know that Vane's nickname (if anyone ever even had the guts to give him one) would most likely not be Charlie. I do not care. Enjoy!

Also, I wrote Admiral Hawke as a misogynistic asshole from my own personal experience. The things he says about Cordelia (and women in general) in this rewrite are all from my own experiences as a woman.

Full Title: The Perfect Storm Chapter Two Re-write: Cordelia Delamare X Charles "Charlie" Vane

Y/n: Your Name. Y/H/C: Your Hair Color. Y/E/C: Your Eye Color. Y/S/C: Your Skin Color

"Captain Delamare! How are you this fine morning?"

"Physically, Governor Hamilton, I am fit as a well-rested cat, waiting to pounce. Mentally I am restless. Restless beyond belief, so much so it's like an itch to my soul. I feel this- this desire to be back at sea!"

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

"Vane, I'm a pirate captain. I've defeated a Kraken, outwitted mermaids, and ended Blackbeard's blockade on Charlestown. I certainly don't need your coat," but even as I say it I snuggle into the warm leather, enjoying Vane's cologne around me.

Vane smirks, and says in his Captain Commando voice, "Just take the damn jacket, Cordelia."

-----------

"I'm a monster."

"No!" I exclaim, a little louder than intended. "Just because your father is an asshat with little to no personality other than a large ego and superiority complex, doesn't mean you are. You are someone who has layers. Would it be wrong to call me a condescending frilly old woman just because my mother was?"

Vane scoffs. "Your mother isn't an abandoning loser who tried to push her son off a boat."

"No, maybe not. But she's still a terrible person. You're not. Our parents don't shape who we are as people. You aren't your father. You're a hot, amazing pirate who happens to be rivals with the most beautiful female pirate captain in all the Caribbean."

----------

I want you, Charles Vane. All of you-

My thoughts and daydreams are interrupted by a yell of pain. I've run into the confrontation of father and son, would be killer and would be killed, Hawke and Vane.

"Charles... Vane." Admiral Hawke spits out through a mouthful of blood. The wicked smile on his face and the red hair framing his face reminds me of Vane but in all the wrong and terrifying ways.

Vane says nothing and stands like a statue of doom and dread. His eyes are as black as hell, and his face shows nothing but hatred and disgust. He steps to the side, crunching on an already shattered chandelier.

Hawke echoes his movements. They are like predators, constantly watching each other for any sign of attack. I feel the pistol at my side, and I'm tempted to try and sharpshoot. But as I watch the face off I realize that wouldn't be a good idea.

As if my body has nothing more interesting to do my corset begins to rub against my shirt. "Damn thing," I mutter as I try to move it without too much noise. I hear Nameless call into the mansion, reminding me of both Molly's and of Hamilton's losses.

I peek back out from under the rubble. They look similar, but they represent opposite worlds. Distorted, mirror images of each other, but father and son indeed.

This feels like a showdown like you'd read about in Western books. "Good to see you," Admiral Hawke says, grinning wolfishly. "Son."

Vane is becoming his persona. Dark, and as ruthless as hell. A dark sign that death is coming. But what does Hawke do? He laughs in death's face.

"What is this? Do you want attention? You want to impress the pirate captain you're so smitten with? Or do you want a pat on the back from your old man? To show me how big and strong you are? Or maybe to show your captain?"

Hawke stops, as though admiring prey before he devours it. "I see myself in you, Charles. We are one and the same. Strong, ambitious, ruthless. Monsters," he steps forward as if in conciliation, but quick as a snake, he lunges to stab Vane in the heart.

Vane slides to the side, blocking underneath. If I'd blinked I would've missed the pivotal life or death moment. Vane laughs. "The same? I know I am a monster. I am the worst of the worst, a cold-blooded-killer pirate with an eye for all that sparkles crimson. But I am safe in the knowledge that in all my monstrosity, I am nothing like you."

"So you want to kill me, then?" Hawke asks, smiling as though he'd known all along. "Well, this world isn't big enough for the both of us. And I will not be defeated, so you will be."

Hawke lunges, and my heart is beating rapidly in my throat. But as I watch the fight I realize something. Vane isn't fighting to kill. It's taking all his strength, but he's only defending. They are so evenly matched this could go on for hours.

I can see exertion in both men's faces, but Hawke still carries his grin. "It was a nice trick today: planting your crew at the hanging, then rioting and storming port. I'm disappointed, though, that it was all to save your little girlfriend. Do you want some advice? Love makes you soft. Women are weak and frail creatures, fit for kitchens, not killing. If you try to protect them you'll only get hurt."

"Captain Cordelia Delamare is anything but weak. She is confident, beautiful, smart, and the bravest not only woman - but the bravest person I've met. She is a double agent, she knows the secrets of both sides. She is dangerous to any and all opponents."

Hawke swings his sword heavily. If it landed it could've cleaved Vane in half. The very thought makes me nauseous. But Vane ducks at the last second and only his arm is sliced. He shouts in pain, and I see red as bright as his hair blossoming along his white shirt. His sword arm. If he wasn't in danger before, he is now.

Vane's voice is deadly calm. "To you, my mother was a tool, and I was an inconvenience. She was so desperate for your affection, and without you to blame for all her misfortunes, do you know who shouldered her bitterness? Her rage and fury? Me, you bastard, me."

Hawke just laughs at his son. He's fingering his blade, and the sight makes me nervous. As I'm sitting here helpless I realize how painful it would be to lose Vane after everything we've gone through. From the library to the beach, to the dark moonlit night, everything would be - pardon the pun - in vane if Vane wasn't there with me.

"I was absent, yes. But I extended an olive branch of peace? Why did you reject my most generous offer? The most decent thing I ever did or will do for you?"

If Vane could reach far enough, I'm sure one hand would wrap around his father's neck, and squeeze. Watching this version of Vane is like re-living my old memories. It's someone I know, vaguely, but I don't feel any attachment to. I lo- I do. I love Vane. But this terrifying, thunder-crashing, hell-burning version of him makes my skin crawl.

"Don't pretend. It was a trap to kill me or put me in your debt, not a gift. I don't want anything to do with you," and Vane attacks. But the Admiral matches each strike with precision and force. It's like a tidal wave trying to destroy a mountain. Neither will budge, both impossibly strong.

I can't bear to listen to any more of this conversation, so I look for something else to do. I begin fiddling in the rocks, looking for weapons and hearing bits and pieces of the conversation.

"...Thank me... pathetic mother, I really did you a favor..."

I hear a yell and whip back around quick as lightning to see Vane's sword in Admiral Hawke's leg. "Kill me, son. Punish me! Go on... your blade drips with my blood, what's a bit more? Don't you want to plunge it into my chest?"

It's sickening, to hear this. Listening to Hawke's quick changes to the way he speaks depends on whether he's in control or not. "No, I won't. I won't begin to list the incorrect reasons why I won't. The reason I will tell you, however, is that I'm free. Free from you, my mother, the Navy, and those hell-bound bastards who keep trying to unsuccessfully take my ship and life."

I'm proud of Vane. "Thirteen years I wasted seeking your approval. I am your blood, but as a wise and beautiful female pirate captain once told me, 'Our parents don't shape who we are as people. Just because your father is an asshat with little to no personality other than a large ego and superiority complex, doesn't mean you are.'"

Vane pauses. "I live by the words of the woman I adore, respect, admire, and love. She and her crew have faced all odds and still came out on top. And she reminded me that our similarities end with red hair. You have no power over me."

Hawke looks disgusted. "You live by the words of a woman?"

"I am free. A man, not a child, free to make my own destiny. And by Davy Jones, I'm going to seize that chance. I do not allow you, or thoughts of you, to impact my life. I am free from you, so I choose to leave you."

Hawke rolls his eyes. "Don't pretend you're noble. You're as twisted as I am. You kill all the time, you're a pirate! Kill me! That's what you've wanted to do since you were thirteen, wasn't it? Take me out of the misery of knowing my son has become a woman worshipping door-mat! A pirate, too."

"Living is your punishment," Vane says, looking at Hawke the way he would someone who tried to pickpocket him. "You are nothing. No one."

"Then kill me and take my riches. You'll have everything you've ever wanted!"

I see Vane stagger, and I remind myself not to blow my cover. Vane sneers. He looks his father in the eyes, and says, "I have everything I've ever wanted."

Vane turns his back on his whimpering mess of a father and slowly walks out. As I see him limping I finally call out to him. His face changes instantly upon seeing me. "Cordelia! How long have you been there? Are you safe?"

As I rush over to him I feel the intense want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him like there's no tomorrow. But, ironically, that will have to wait until tomorrow. "I'm fine. But, Vane, what about you?"

Vane smiles. "I am free."

I smile back, pulling his head down slightly so I can kiss him. When we pull apart Vane gently brushes a strand of hair from my cheek. "De Vere is gone. And Hamilton... I did all I could, Read's with him now. But he might not make it."

I can see Vane recoil in horror, before quickly pulling me into a hug. He shakes his head. "Hamilton is a good man. I hope he does survive, Port Royal wouldn't be the same without him."

TWO MONTHS LATER

"Heartbreakers, with me! Our target is within sight! Unfurl the sails, full speed ahead! I want them quaking in their boots at the sight of us!"

Bang and Burns look particularly mischievous as Moondog begins to play her wild melody. Our stabbed heart flies proudly in the wind. It still gives me a rush of adrenaline to see it. And then I see it. The Ranger.

We approach Vane's ship at full speed. And as we go I see the tall red-headed man I'm looking for. Seeing him, in his pure pirate king form, sends the butterflies in my stomach fluttering. "Grapplers, prepare to board! No mercy, we are the Heartbreakers!"

"Captain Heartbreaker. You charge at me, threaten me, and pirate me? How romantic."

It feels like my jaw has just dropped to The Heartbreaker's hold. "What?!"

"You're recreating the moment we first met. So sentimental, doing this for our one-year anniversary."

I purse my lips, trying to stop myself from laughing. "I should call you Captain Adorable."

I hear Bang and Burns begin to snicker behind me. "No, this is a robbery!"

"Of my heart, yes, I see that. Well, come on. My cabin is where I keep my treasure."

Read, and most of the rest of my crew, are now laughing while Keats lightly scolds them. I sigh and swing over to the Ranger. I enter Vane's cabin. Vane is leaning against his captain's table, arms crossed. The expression on his face is one I imagine a wolf would have if a lamb walked into his lair.

I suddenly feel an urge to loiter at the entrance to Vane's cabin. But Vane beckons me closer, and I come all the way inside his cabin. "You've come to pillage, no? I believe resistance, at this point, would be considered futile. So what is it you desire most, oh Dreaded Captain Cannonball?"

"Well," I begin, my courage starting to grow, "I've come to the conclusion I'm hopelessly attracted to ruthless, ambitious, fiendish, and devastatingly handsome pirates."

Vane smiles. "Seems serious," Vane reaches forward for my waist. "Go check the top drawer of the desk. I have... a gift for you."

Suddenly suspicious, I eye Vane up and down as I walk slowly to his desk. I carefully slide open the drawer, ready to jump back if necessary. Until I gasp upon seeing the contents. I see a map. "This is amazing!"

"It's our map. If, of course, you want it."

I run to where he's standing and wrap my arms around him, hugging him tightly as he strokes my back, laughing softly. I guess that answered his question. Vane pulls back from the hug to kiss me instead, on the lips.

It's passionate, and the feelings rush over me like the sea we both love. When we pause for breath he strokes my cheekbone down to my jaw in a repetitive, strangely attractive way. His husky voice breaks the silence, "Happy one-year anniversary, Captain Cannonball. I hope my cabin survives this encounter."

Wow, two posts in one night. I must be crazy.

Well, that took longer than expected. Oh well, on to more things, I guess.

[seokmins]

WHAT pls you're so adorable i just love you 💘💘💘💘💘💘 i always wanted to talk to you but i get SO SHY 💝💝💝 honestly i find that sometimes my only way to start a conversation is to just push myself out of my comfort zone :(( i recently watched all of us are dead which was AWESOMEEE 💓 if you like horror and zombies, i would recommend!!! ❤️

your post was so spot on though!!! 💘 i really, really appreciate that. thank you so much 💝 i've had a few awkward run ins with other ccs who said i'm not giffing how i should be or i shouldn't be giffing at all because i only use photoshop. like i'm giffing how i want to? i don't use vs bc for some reason i can never get it to work properly so i just gif on photoshop </3 i honestly stopped giffing for about three weeks because of comments i received but i was like, you know what? i can gif how i want to. if i want to just use ps, that's fine by me <3 i just like giffing old stuff bc i have fun with it <3 everyone gifs differently, everyone gifs different things 💓 it's something i do for fun, it's not a job. i'll gif what i want to and how i want to ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ the same goes for everyone else; GIF WHATEVER YOU WANT AND DO IT HOW YOU WANT TO 💘

no YOU are adorable!!! i'm so glad you did mwah you are a lovely person indeed!!! and ooh i heard a lot about that one ~ I think there's a webtoon so maybe i will check that all out again <3333

and thank you, i really can't believe a 2am rage post i made blew up fhsdkf but it's nice to see a lot of people share the same sentiment. Honestly, though... it's terrible when cc's get a superiority complex like I am sure some are really trying to be helpful but like... it can be super condescending to assume people want to be "helped"! I think if you're just having fun giffing and enjoying what you make, who cares how or what you're doing!! I'm so sad and sorry to hear you stopped giffing because of what people were saying :((( fighting them rn!!! But I'm glad you came to the realization that who cares and to just have fun w/ it <3 you don't need vs to make gifs, you don't even need ps technically!! i am just extremely happy and glad you are sharing your work w/ us and around caratblr and i hope you never stop bc of nasty comments <3

[sunshineduo]

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[princesssarisa]

Still more rambling about "Wuthering Heights"

The recent discussion by @astrangechoiceoffavourites and @dahlia-coccinea regarding Nelly's description of Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw's deteriorating relationship in Chapter 8 inspired me to go back and reread that chapter. Nelly's account of how Cathy and Heathcliff both changed as they grew out of childhood is negative to both of them, but she especially emphasizes Heathcliff's change for the worse under Hindley's drunken abuse, and in his interactions with Cathy, he seems to have changed toward her more than she did toward him. It's much more complex than the image of "fickle Cathy" that we tend to find in pop culture.

Nelly criticizes Catherine chiefly for her increasing arrogance, and secondly for the way she would half agree with Heathcliff's insulting remarks about Edgar in Edgar's absence, yet in Heathcliff's absence say nothing in his defense when the Lintons disparaged him. But one thing Nelly doesn’t accuse her of doing yet is snubbing or abandoning Heathcliff.

“She had a wondrous constancy to old attachments,” says Nelly: “even Heathcliff kept his hold on her affections unalterably; and young Linton, with all his superiority, found it difficult to make an equally deep impression.” She goes on to say that Heathcliff was still Cathy’s constant companion whenever he wasn’t working. An interesting detail, which I think sometimes gets lost in adaptations, is that at no point does Cathy actually choose Edgar over Heathcliff. Even when she accepts Edgar’s proposal, what she wants and always tries to have is both men in her life, and even before her dramatic confession of her love for Heathcliff, Nelly can see that Edgar doesn't matter as much to her as Heathcliff does.

We all presumably remember the scene where Heathcliff points to the almanac and the marks he's made revealing how many afternoons Catherine has spent with the Lintons and how many with himself. But here we have one of the book's endless ambiguities – we never actually learn what Heathcliff's almanac-marking reveals, only that he's "on the point, sometimes, of complaining" about it. Easy though it is to assume that Catherine has been spending more afternoons with the Lintons than with Heathcliff, it might also be that she's been dividing her time equally between them, or spending not quite, but almost as much time with the Lintons as with Heathcliff. Any of these scenarios would annoy Heathcliff when he was once the only same-age companion Catherine had or wanted, especially if he already suspects Edgar of having romantic feelings for her.

Catherine is also still as openly and physically affectionate to Heathcliff as ever. Despite having learned to be a "lady" she still gives him "girlish caresses." It's Heathcliff who goes from freely extolling her as superior to everyone on earth to no longer expressing his fondness for her in words and recoiling from her touch as if he suspects her affection is insincere. And the chief person to blame for this change is neither Catherine nor Heathcliff, but Hindley.

So few analyses of Wuthering Heights, even those specifically focused on Heathcliff's character arc, consider how much Heathcliff changes in the two years following Hindley's descent into alcoholism. Nelly makes it clear that in those two years of being brutally abused and overworked, he became increasingly quiet and morose, increasingly struggled with his education until he gave it up altogether, lost all his boyhood pride and seemingly all will to improve his circumstances, and in Nelly's judgmental words, seemed to take a "grim pleasure" in coming across as a repulsive, unintelligent brute. In just one paragraph, Emily Brontë makes the psychologically stunting effects of trauma painfully clear.

Now the contemptuous tone of that paragraph is a definite example of "the Nelly filter": I definitely feel more sympathy for Heathcliff at this point than our judgmental narrator seems to feel. But at the same time, if this description of his 16-year-old self is basically accurate, then his "angry suspicion" toward Cathy's displays of affection seems less the result of her behavior than of his own broken self-esteem. It also seems to be more than just classism and racism that makes Cathy believe (or be able to lie to herself) that Heathcliff isn't in love with her and won't mind when she marries Edgar, and that he'll never better himself on his own and needs her to save him with the Lintons' money. Not that those viewpoints aren't wrong and condescending, but there's more to the situation than just "She becomes a racist snob and treats Heathcliff abominably."

There are only two moments before Heathcliff's three-year disappearance where Cathy is really and truly cruel to him. The first is when she first comes home from the Lintons' on Christmas Eve, where she laughs at his "black and cross" appearance and criticizes his dirtiness. Of course Heathcliff is hurt by this casual classism and racism coming from his once inseparable fellow misfit. But she still hugs and kisses Heathcliff just before she utters those thoughtless words, the next day she sides with him over Edgar in the applesauce-throwing debacle, and Nelly never implies that she ever spoke to him that way again. The second moment is three years later, in their last interaction before Edgar's proposal. Yes, it's wrong of her to lie to Heathcliff, first claiming that she's not expecting any visitor, then saying that Isabella and Edgar "talked of calling" when really only Edgar is coming and she was the one who invited him. And yes, it's inexcusable when she verbally lashes out and implies she would rather spend time with Edgar because Heathcliff "might be dumb or a baby" for all he says or does to amuse her. It's especially cruel because she knows full well that his quiet sullenness and lack of education are the result of Hindley's abuse. But Heathcliff's shocked response says it all: "You never told me before that I talked too little, or that you disliked my company, Cathy!" This is an isolated incident. In a fit of annoyance and anxiety, she says harsh words to Heathcliff that she's never said before. Apart from these two moments, she's not Heathcliff's abuser: Hindley is.

In Heathcliff and Catherine's emotional "dance of death," the same pattern recurs again and again. In some way, Catherine chooses the Lintons' refined world over the half-savage world she once shared with Heathcliff, yet doesn't view it as rejecting Heathcliff himself; but Heathcliff takes it as rejection and distances himself from her in anger, leaving them both in pain. This happens when she first comes home from the Lintons – she laughs at his looks yet still greets him fondly, but he refuses to shake her hand and avoids her until the next night. This repeats through the next three years – she divides her time between him and the Lintons, still giving him all her affection when she's at home, but he becomes sullen and withdrawn. Then she accepts Edgar's proposal, yet still intends to stay as close to Heathcliff as ever while married, but he responds by running away for three years, and when he comes back to find her newly wed, she wants them to live happily as friends, but he dashes her hopes by pursuing Isabella. It's a terrible, complicated downward spiral, and to blame only one of them for it, or to blame only the two of them and no one else, is to vastly oversimplify it.

I could make similar observations about Cathy Linton and Hareton's relationship. I haven't taken time to reread their scenes just yet, but they've always come across to me as two damaged, flawed young people who are both partly to blame for their initial conflict (with Heathcliff and Edgar sharing the blame too), but who eventually choose to put aside their egos and grow together in a way the first Cathy and Heathcliff never did. It surprises me to see other readers blame only Cathy for mistreating Hareton and see only her as needing to learn to appreciate him, or (though this is less common) blame only Hareton and view Cathy as needing to "fix" him. But that's a discussion for another day.

The complexity of all the characters, relationships and situations in this book is truly astounding. It's hard to believe Emily Brontë was only in her twenties when she wrote it: authors with twice as many years of life experience have written with less depth than she did. And the oversimplified views of it that pop culture promotes (of which "Catherine Earnshaw was fickle and cruel to Heathcliff" is only one) definitely need some deconstruction.

[lollytea]

If you don't mind, do you have any more Shere Khan and or Bagheera headcannons you would like to share?

DO I???

(You are so welcome!! I get so excited whenever somebody shows an interest in shagheera cuz of me. I live for it!!

I have like a truckload of headcanons about their past and present but I’m saving them for this fic once I get into the mindset to get back to it. Soon I’m hoping! BUT I’ve always thought way too much about Bagheera and Khan so I probably have plenty of rambly thoughts I can talk about!)

— Bagheera was raised by his mother and, to an extent, his great grandfather. Great gramps was ancient and couldn’t really do much to care for a child, other than sit in his chair and entertain the little one with stories of his life back in India. Bagheera would listen, enthralled. Bagheera idolized his great grandfather.

— The world hadn’t been very nice to Bagheera’s mother so, as a result, she kept her child sheltered. She coddled him, fussed over him and was overprotective to a fault. This led to Bagheera being a gentle, skittish, naive and high strung boy.

— He got the biggest whiplash of his life when he started school and realized that other boys were not like him. They were loud, rowdy, nonchalantly rude and played rough. Bagheera struggled a little at first but he eventually adapted, mirroring the ways of other kids so he would fit in better. It was during this time that Bagheera’s personality really began to define itself. He was painfully aware that he was small for his age, clumsy and not very fast or strong and he developed quite a complex about it. But it wouldn’t be forever. He had every intention to improve himself in that department. For the time being, he attempted to compensate with a sharp tongue and a hot temper.

— Shere Khan had been raised with his future already decided for him. Since he could walk, he had been told that he would inherit the family’s business empire and he held a lot of pride in that. However when you allow a child to mentally develop with the knowledge that one day they will basically rule the whole universe, (at least it feels like that when you’re so small and are too immature to fully grasp the reality of your future) it may do some permanent damage to that child’s psyche.

— Shere Khan was spoiled, doted on, put a pedestal, had his parents singing his praises. As their only child and heir, of course he was to be treated like he was special. Because he was. Shere Khan was special. Until he wasn’t.

— If you struggle with your studies, you’re too stupid to inherit the family fortune. If you get upset and cry, you’re too weak willed to inherit the family fortune. If you’re not good at everything you do, you’re not as brilliant as we thought you were. Years and years of mixed messages results in a child who doesn’t know for certain if he’s the most talented boy in the world or if he’s completely worthless. It’s the uncertainty that causes such instability. Shere Khan is cocky, smug, arrogant, a perfectionist, cagey, confrontational, competitive, hellbent on proving he’s the best and terrified of ever being seen as weak.

— Bagheera has had a fascination with books since he first learned to read. Unfortunately your literary options are scarce when you’re dirt poor but he does what he can. He frequents the neighborhood’s tiny library even if it’s limited, he’s reread the books he does own to the point he has them memorized and he collects newspapers and magazines to obtain as much knowledge as he can. Occasionally he’ll gather newspaper clippings of current events and make his own “history books.”

— Shere Khan is deeply interested in botany, though he really doesn’t have the time to focus on it with the overload of other subjects he’s obliged to perfect. His grandma gifted him a selection of bulbs and he likes to grow flowers on his windowsill. He’s extremely proud of his plant work. But that’s a secret shh.

— Bagheera and Shere Khan are almost equally matched academically, with Khan inching just a little ahead. However it’s clear from the start that while Khan is the sharper of the two, he can’t compare to the genuine passion Bagheera has for learning. Despite their smarts, the two boys aren’t really liked by teachers. They and their other four friends are incorrigible troublemakers, with Shere Khan being the most disruptive of them all. And while Bagheera can’t help but be dragged in, he does try to behave himself sometimes. Unfortunately he’s constantly getting in trouble for drawing in his notebook.

— There are a lot of bad aspects of this friendship. Shere Khan is prone to flippant insults and Bagheera’s self esteem is shaky enough as it is. There are times when Shere Khan makes Bagheera feel terrible about himself. And though Shere Khan doesn’t understand the extent of Bagheera’s feelings, he knows he’s making him feel inferior. And he leeches off that insecurity to assure himself of his own superiority. Shere Khan probably wouldn’t be half as annoyingly egotistical if it weren’t for Bagheera.

— However, as time goes on, this more malicious side of things starts to fade into a complicated yet comfortable companionship. It’s odd. Everyone agrees that it’s odd. While the antagonistic vibe never quite goes away, with the two constantly challenging eachother, there are days where they get along fine. It depends on their respective moods. One day, Shere Khan would hassle Bagheera until a fight breaks out and the very next day, they could chat with eachother for hours about their favourite novels and the day after that, there’s a reasonable middle ground of jokingly teasing eachother. No one understands it. Shere Khan and Bagheera never even notice that this is peculiar. It’s just their normal.

— Shere Khan and his family would usually leave for a few weeks every year to stay at their summer home. Bagheera would write him letters to keep him updated on the lives of himself, Baloo, Louie, Haithi and Kaa. Half of Khan’s responses were irritable that Bagheera was pestering him with messages, while the other half was listing words that Bagheera had misspelled. One year he returned a week after Bagheera’s birthday and passed him a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. It was a pocket dictionary. Shere Khan framed it as condescending, since Bagheera liked big words so much but was so terrible at spelling. He certainly hadn’t expected Bagheera to be as delighted with the gift as he was. But he found himself proud that he had given it to him.

— As opposed to their other friends, Shere Khan and Bagheera were fond of the night. They would often sneak out after dark and meet up for walks around the city. Sometimes they’d talk about everything and nothing, sometimes they would argue and sometimes they would say nothing at all. But they enjoyed it. Both felt the need to wander late at night and neither wanted to do it alone.

— Bagheera really started to grow as a person during his time in flight school. He made plenty of friends, grew in confidence, expanded his knowledge and had the support of his best friend, Baloo through all of it. He also learned some things about himself, which goes without saying. He hadn’t seen Shere Khan in years but upon a little reflection, realizes with amusement and a little embarrassment that his admiration towards Khan was most likely a childish crush. He comments to Baloo that being so interested in a boy who was mean to him was rather pathetic on his part. But a part of him knows that it was probably more complicated than that. Whatever it was, he accepts it but doesn’t dwell too much and moves forward. He figures he probably won’t ever see Shere Khan and while it is a little sad, he will certainly survive.

— Shere Khan also learned some things about himself while pursuing higher education but when it comes to his previous friendship with Bagheera, he opts to think about it as little as possible. While Bagheera was currently becoming far more outgoing, Shere Khan was steadily closing himself up until he was left entirely isolated. It was voluntary, of course. He had no interest in making friends and even if spending weeks without speaking to anyone had its mental effects, Khan was too stubborn to change his ways.

— Just like when they were children, Bagheera would send Khan letters. However, Khan had already made the decision that Bagheera was not to be involved in his life anymore. However he was so starved for familiar interaction, he read every letter and even wrote responses, even if he never sent them. He kept all of Bagheera’s letters in his desk drawer. And then they were moved to a box. And then that box was piled under by other boxes. As an adult, Shere Khan doesn’t quite know where exactly the letters are but he’s certain that they’re still somewhere in the house.

— When the two meet again as adults, Shere Khan comes to the reluctant conclusion that the boy he always showed up in school work, had become a far smarter and well read man than Shere Khan will ever be. And once he does allow himself to admit that, Khan can come to appreciate the person Bagheera has grown into. He’s very impressed.

— Bagheera is comfortable with himself. He wouldn’t say his self confidence is a hindrance anymore, not like when he was younger. But he finds that even as an adult, he often has moments of doubting himself. After being made feel so small for years and years, that sort of thing never quite leaves you. Even in adulthood. And isn’t it strange when the person who made you so insecure when you were children, is now the one making every attempt to build you back up again.

— Bagheera wouldn’t say he’s especially brave or anything. He’s still afraid by little things like thunder and spiders. But upon meeting Shere Khan again, he simply cannot wrap his head around the notion that anyone could find this man intimidating. All Bagheera sees is his old friend, who has taken on yet another mask to make himself seem cool.

— There are things Shere Khan has always known about Bagheera. He’s passionate and opinionated. A bit of a windbag really. As a child Shere Khan had found this annoying. But nowadays, he would consider it a pivotal aspect of Bagheera’s brilliance. Khan wasn’t all that intense about any personal matters these days so Bagheera brought so many new concepts to the table. He activated the side of Shere Khans brain that wasn’t strictly office based. It was a welcome change of pace.

— Bagheera has heard from many people that Shere Khan is apparently terrifying. It’s the icy demeanor, it seems. But oddly enough, once he had gotten used to Shere Khan all those years ago, Bagheera found his nonchalant disposition to be comforting, and now it was even more so. Khan rarely got outwardly agitated or panicky or raised his voice. And for Bagheera, somebody prone to anxiety ridden outbursts, a person like that was most welcome in his corner.

— Shere Khan has noticed that Bagheera carries around a worn, well loved pocket dictionary. Now he remembers giving him one over twenty years ago but it’s not likely that it’s the same one. Years and years go by and even long after considering Bagheera his other half, for some reason Shere Khan can never bring himself to ask. Maybe he just doesn’t want to know the truth. Believing what he wants is nice.

— Bagheera had always enjoyed sketching but it isn’t until his adulthood that he decides to indulge in buying paint supplies. Before long, a once empty space in Shere Khan’s penthouse is cluttered with paints and tarps and finished canvases propped against the walls. He’s particular fond of depicting countryside landscapes. Self portraits too but he’s afraid people will think he’s self centered. Shere Khan simply says if you’re both beautiful and artistic, then self portraits should be a no brainer. Bagheera had to politely ask Shere Khan to stop going to art galleries and showing immense interest in his art to raise the bidding among the rich crowd, as he would really like to see how much he can do on his own.

— Shere Khan played piano as a child. He didn’t remember the act of playing itself, but the obligation to sit at the stool and practice when he would much rather be outside. He associated piano with a lot of negative feelings, so once he had left his family’s home, he avoided the instrument at all cost. However, he accidentally discovered a little later than life that if he wasn’t under any pressure to do so, he quite enjoyed playing. It was calming for him. He liked the music it produced. But he was a bit out of practice. He was uncomfortable with being less than perfect at something and found the whole ordeal of improving oneself to be humiliating.

— Bagheera had a piano set up in their home for Shere Khan’s birthday. On the walls surrounding the instrument, he hung up the first few paintings he had done before he had gotten the hang of the whole art thing. It does take a month or two before Khan is willing to sit in the stool and give it a serious try but once he does, there’s music every evening at exactly 6:25pm. Not perfect music. But Bagheera makes it known how delighted he is to hear it.

— As he gets older and works gets more taxing, Bagheera has a tendency to fall asleep earlier. Usually in the evenings as he’s sitting in his chair and on page 6 of his book. Shere Khan hates this because if he leaves him there, he’ll wake up with a bad back and a creak in his neck, so he has to make the effort of dragging him to the bed. And Bagheera is not easy to carry.

— Shere Khan on the other hand can stay awake for days at a time, usually working and Bagheera hates it. Because not only is this biologically impossible for a person to pull off without losing some sanity, he doesn’t like to sleep on his own.

— They enjoy watching antique auction shows and get into extremely intense debates over it. Usually over the price or how ugly they think said antiques are.

— To this day, they still like to go on late night walks around the city. There’s a different atmosphere now that they’re no longer children but it helps them remember where they started off. And just like always, sometimes, they would talk about eveything and nothing, sometimes they would argue and sometimes they would say nothing at all. 

[theodora3022]

Freaking Me Out

Pairing: Neito Monoma x F!reader (I’m not really good at this kind of stuff…)

Summary: What scares Neito Monoma more than death, is his irrational attraction to you. He was able to hide it behind his petty insults often, until one day he saw you injured, something in the blonde snapped.

Notes: Reader is a student in 1A. If you do not like it, the exit button is there for you. Otherwise, enjoy! I honeslty don’t like how this turns out, but there you have it.

Warning: Verbal abuse (It is Monoma come on, what’s the surprise), superiority complex (obviously), fluff?Insults?

“Now I hear sounds in the hallway,

rocking chairs are moving on their own,

I’m falling for you, so much so

It’s freaking me out.”

           You’re a student of class 1A, that is a good enough reason for Neito to pick on you. Even though you have always been polite and friendly. His distain is towards 1A in general, you just got caught up in the wave.

           He might still act like a bully towards you, but that doesn’t mean he hates you, in fact, he found you quite charming, it almost made him want to stop with his verbal abuses. Almost.

           Ironic enough, Neito has a soft spot for sociable people. Most people would be appalled with his rude attitude, which is what he expected. But he never got any reaction out of you with the usual insults. You brush them off as if they were nothing and kept that friendly façade, keep treating him with kindness. You are too nice, abnormally so.

           Neito is curious, what could make you lose your composure? You are always so calm and collected, it’s honestly irritating. How can he rip off that smiling mask off your face and see who you really are? Class 1A is full of idiots, so why are you any different. The way you act all welcoming, it’s all fake right? Inside, you must be just like those egotistic maniacs you called friends. Nothing had drawn the blonde’s attention this much in a long time, so when he caught a glimpse of your backside, walking towards the library, Neito followed.

           You had a terrible day, you got a bad mark on a recent test, accidently slipped on a banana skin, and landed sideways. It’s only a minor injury, so you didn’t bother to visit the Nurse’s office.(They must have more pressing injuries to deal with then a small cut) Now you got a bandage on the left side of your chin. So, you decide to treat yourself some quality time to relax in the library, surely nothing worse can happen in that calming atmosphere?

           Oh, how naïve you are.

           Coincidentally, it happened to be a bad day for Neito too. What’s his favorite pastime these days? Read Franco-Belgian comics Make fun of someone he doesn’t like. You’re just sitting there, concentrated on a history book, as if inviting his insults. The library is nearly empty, and the table you’re sitting at is behind some shelves, far away from the Liberian’s prying eyes. Perfect.

           Inviting himself to your table, Neito sits down across you with that arrogant smirk on his face. Then he starts to examine you. Oh, how adorable you look, so focused. Suddenly the book makes him feel jealous, how pathetic of him. He really got it bad. He wonders what you’re going to look like all angry, finally letting out your true self.

“What you’re reading there, (y/n)?”

           You are now scowling; obviously not too happy he had interrupted your reading. “Good afternoon to you too, Monoma. Has anyone told you it’s rude to interrupt?” You were hoping to ignore him, that he would leave on his own. Well, that’s evidently not happening.

           She seems annoyed. Never seen that before, interesting. Then Neito notices the small bandage on the side of your chin. It’s clearly not properly treated, as he can see blood leaking from its edges.

           “You’re hurt?” That smirk is gone…Is that concerns you see on his face? You never imagined someone like him is capable of such compassion. “Oh this? I tripped and I cut it. No big deal though.” Avoiding his caring gaze, you’re starting to feel uncomfortable. He is acting so…nice? Who is he and what has he done with the real Neito Monoma?

           No big deal? If it is not cleansed and closed properly, it could very well leave a scar on your flawless face! Monoma doesn’t know why this bothers him this much, what he does know is you need to get proper medical attention immediately. “None sense. Come, that’s get you to recovery girl.”

           “I’m fine, really. Hey, let go of me, Monoma!” He took your left hand into his without permission? What the hell? The next thing you know he is dragging you out of the library.

           “If you don’t want to cause a spectacle in the hallways, better stop being a brat and shut your trap.” Ah, there it is. The normal insults of Neito Monoma. You silenced yourself, nevertheless. Thankfully, it’s afterschool, so no one is in the hallways. You can just picture how rumors were going to spread if someone sees you and Monoma “holding hands” like this.

           The Recovery girl is busy with someone’s training injury. Much to your surprise, after taking some antibiotics ointment and a couple of cotton swabs, he decides to tend to your wound himself.

           Slim fingers carefully peeling the bandage off, the blonde’s brows knotted when you let out a hiss of pain. “It might hurt now, but it’s going to scar if you just leave it like this.” He is so focus on cleansing your cut that he missed your shock. After making sure the wound is hygienic, Neito starts applying the ointment with such attentiveness, making sure no corners are missed. His eyes are filled with worries, instead of the usual condescending attitude. It all looks too good to be real, so you stay quiet.

           Neito used to be quite clumsy as a child, so he learned how to tend to minor wounds such as yours. Fortunately, your cut is not deep or long, with the correct care it would heal in no time.

           It was not until he finishes up, after putting a new bandage over your treated wound, that Neito realizes what he has done. Not only he had literally dragged you here, but also tended your wound himself! If he does not know better, he would say he genuinely care for you. Biting his lower lip, the Blonde’s head start to spin, to think how he can excuse himself out of this awkward situation.

           “Neito?” You are calling him by his first name now? That is new. Not that he hates it.

           Then you just look at him with those innocent eyes, those beautiful eyes. And those lips, they look so tasty, he would not mind a tast-

           Wait, where did all those obscene thoughts come from?

           You two are standing in an empty hallway beside the nurse’s office, staring at each other in silence. “Thank you for that, Neito. I really appreciate your help. I wouldn’t want to have a scar.” Is that all you have to say? Normally that would be enough, but for Monoma?

           “You got two options, (y/n). One, just walk away, pretend this never happened and carry on with your normal life.” He paces towards you, you realized how he had backed you into a corner. He is close, too close-you can feel his breaths gently brushes your cheeks. Up close, you noticed he is actually quite handsome, with that well-trimmed blonde hair and those crystal blue eyes. If he were not such a jerk, he would have been quite a charmer. Wait…is he trembling?

           “What’s the other option?” You asked that out of pure curiosity. Childish, you know, but you cannot help but be amused at the blonde’s shacking form. It is not everyday you get to see so terrified and flustered, a major blush across those usually pale cheeks. A rare but delightful sight.

           Don’t you get those hints? Your innocence, while cute, is driving Neito crazy. He is so done with playing subtle. Let his knuckles brush against the uninjured side of your face, touches so soft that can be mistaken as lover’s.

           “Or” He whispers near your ear, almost towering over you; “You can show me how thankful you are for my care. I been thinking about kissing you for a while, you know.” He is buffing. Neito is screaming in his head, praying that you reciprocate his feelings. It is the least you can do after making him swoon over you for so long.

           How dare you! How dare you making him feel attached? Like you are the only thing he wants in this world? Who gives you the right to make him obsess over you?

           Neito is scared, terrified, even. This had never happened before. Due to his handsome appearance, there had been girls interested him before, but they all backed away once they learned about his personality.

           You were too astounded to move. Neito Monoma, the infamous rude prick from Class 1B, has feelings for you? Someone pinch you on the arm, to make sure this was not just some lewd dream. “What, so shocked that you can’t even speak?” Forcing your chin up with his thumb and index fingers (but still careful not to touch your wound), his face begins to lean close. You shut your eyes, half-hoping for it to happen.

           But you only felt a quick peck on your cheek. Of course he would not steal your first kiss here. Neito would want to make it a moment he could treasure forever, after a date. Not in this little dark hallway.

           “You, me, tomorrow at noon, in front of the gate.” Then he left without saying a word, almost stumbling. Only his faint cologne still lingering around you, reminding this is all real.

[k-s-morgan]

You know, I always look forward to and dread your updates. Don’t get me wrong, I love your writing, your metas and all the fics you have written but ‘What he grows to be’ gives me such an upset feeling. Maybe dark stories are not my cup of tea but I’ve read dark stories before and they haven’t affected me the way yours does. Throughout the whole story my heart feels heavy but I can’t bring myself to stop reading. Also I have a question: could you please explain Harry’s devotion to Tom? Like I don’t study psychology or anything so I’m not an expert (so correct me if I’m wrong) but I don’t see a reason for Harry to sacrifice so much for someone like Tom who is nothing but cruel towards him. He’s been condescending always treating Harry like a helpless thing who needs looking after. He is cruel and manipulative and has a complete disregard towards anything about personal boundaries. I mean he’s basically ,in a loose term, a psychopath. I can understand the way you write Tom, I don’t get the way you’ve written Harry. He’s so weak. He has none of that courage he used to have in the books. He doesn’t have that spirit that made me fall in love with him. He gives in so easily. He forgives easily. He has no morals left. He’s not the Harry I know. Like he literally excused multiple murders Tom committed because he loves him? It’s just so hard to comprehend. I tried to put myself in Harry’s place and instead of feeling sympathetic towards him, I felt angry at how much he has lost himself. I don’t see any thing good in Tom. I would understand for Harry to love him with such abandon if he has anything good in him. But Tom has done nothing but made him suffer. Why did Harry change so much? Just because he only has Tom in this world? Because he raised him? Tom was never a helpless, innocent child for Harry to feel compassion towards him. He was cruel and manipulative from the beginning. It just frustrates me how Harry keeps forgiving Tom and then apologizing to him after his ‘punishments’. It might be cruel for Harry to ‘die’ as a punishment but still does it warrant him forgiving Tom so easily after the atrocities he has committed? It’s a complex situation, I understand and truly I don’t mean to offend you or anything. I’m just trying to understand. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this because you know them better than I do as it is your own story. I don’t know if it makes me a bad person but it always gives me so much satisfaction to see Tom suffer even though it’s for such a short time. Please tell me he won’t get away with everything like always does and that Harry won’t just forgive him easily like he usually does. Because what Tom just did was so cruel and horrifying that I was in shock when I read it. The way he used Harry’s weakeness against him... sorry for the rant!

Hello! First of all, thank you so much for such a long and detailed ask - it's always great to know that my work affects people, even if it evokes so much frustration :D I firmly believe in the death of the author concept, so I don't feel like I can impose my understanding of characters on my readers. Everyone sees them in different ways: some readers think Harry overreacted, others think he should kill Tom and be done with it, etc. What He Grows to Be is certainly a disturbing story, and I think it differs from my other works because Tom and Harry are very different. With Will and Hannibal, violence and manipulations are mutual while here, Harry is genuinely kind and empathetic, and Tom takes advantages of that.

As for my personal view: I don't think Harry is weak. I think he is very fucked up, even more so than in canon because he had to live through even more trauma after the war in WHGTB. In canon, being understanding, forgiving, and empathetic are some of Harry's major traits. It always shakes me to think about how he named his child Albus Severus after two people who caused him so much pain. Yes, Dumbledore loved him in his own way, but ultimately, Harry was his weapon. Years of abuse, every interaction, every test - everything was done with a purpose of manipulating him into being a perfect self-sacrificial hero. And yet Harry still loves Dumbledore with devotion, he still holds awe for him. Same with Snape: yes, he wasn't as terrible of a person as Harry imagined. He suffered a lot, he tried to redeem himself, but Harry never saw anything but hostility and derision from him. And yet he forgives everything to the point of naming a child after him because Snape loved his mother and took care of him. 

Harry didn't hate his relatives after years of abuse. He managed to feel empathy even for Voldemort, and not just once. He tried to give him a chance during the final battle, tried to make him see where he went wrong - that speaks of a unique kind of compassion and a big lack of self-worth. In WHGTB, due to the circumstances, all these traits are amplified.

As it could be expected, the story of Harry's all-encompassing love for Tom started with pity. When he first adopted him, he felt reserved and wary. He didn't like him, he didn't trust him, but he still started to grow attached to him because that's who Harry is: he can't share meals, teach, talk, and decorate house with a person without feeling something for them in the process. When Tom broke the vase and tried to repair it, terrified and guilty, Harry's pity and attachment won out. In that moment, he saw a little fragile boy who was never loved and who craved approval and acceptance. And Harry was determined to give it to him.

For a while, like you said, Tom was rude and condescending. But he showed he's capable of regret and remorse. He tried to heal Harry after hurting him; he listened to him with fascination during lessons and was willing to change his ideas; he laughed and cooked with him. Affection got stronger, and with it, what seemed annoying started to come across like lovable quirks. Harry despised Tom's showing-off at first, but then, after he got used to him and his company, he started finding it funny and endearing. He invested all of himself into this child, making him into his life goal - he couldn't not love him. He started to live for the small moments of Tom's affection and acceptance. His love for Ron, Hermione, his parents, Sirius - it combined and focused on Tom alone because in many ways, Tom was the key to making sure that when these people are born, they live a fulfilling and happy life. In Harry's mind, the more he loved Tom, the more chances of succeeding he had, and then the boundaries of this love started to blur, and Tom began to genuinely outshine every other person he has ever known because he was there and others were not.

When Gringotts happened and Tom's perception shifted, Harry was showered with his absolute devotion and focus. You said that you don't see anything good in Tom, but Harry does - and it's also important to remember that before Beth, Tom was very careful about not letting him see his real face. In Harry's eyes, Tom learned to help others, like when he offered his hand to a Muggle boy. He discarded the ideas of blood superiority and developed a far more moral outlook.  He learned to be caring, worrying about Harry when he's sick, making potions for him, covering him with a blanket at night, helping other students, achieving equality, etc. Tom's devotion is a completely irresistible thing to Harry because he's always been responsive to kindness, no matter how limited it was.

After Beth, it was already too late for him. Love and empathy are a terrible weapon in  Harry's case: he can't just unlove someone who has become his main life purpose. The only way is to try to understand Tom, and as long as this understanding exists, Harry finds an ability to forgive him.

You said Tom has done nothing but make him suffer, but for Harry, that's not true. 80% of time he spends with Tom is the happiest time of his life. Tom became the only person in his world, the person Harry poured of all his love, loneliness, and longing into. Tom is a family Harry never had. He was a child Harry could relate to, so he spoiled him, argued with him, shopped with him, and basked in the happiness of making him smile; Tom was a friend ready to listen and reassure, to discuss how their days passed, to do something fun together; now, Tom has started to slowly growing into something more. The celebrations, the shopping, the holidays, the flying - all these are happy memories for Harry. The only major instances of pain were Beth and now Charlus. Harry feels shattered every time Tom comes close to acting on his darkness, but as compared to the time they spend together, happiness still exceeds the heartbreak.  

When it comes to breaking his limits, Harry doesn't forgive easily. He didn't speak to Tom 6 months after Beth and he subjected him to a terrible trauma as punishment; the thought of Tom killing Charlus almost drove him crazy, but he couldn't ignore the fact that it happened before the system and that Tom has been trying since then. After the ritual, Harry leaves - and yes, I can assure you that forgiveness is definitely not coming any time soon! Although as the toxic cycle of their relationship shows, Harry can't really stay away from Tom indefinitely either.  

Harry is happy with Tom, and he knows Tom loves him. He understands that Tom is a psychopath and that ordinary criteria cannot apply to him, and so he struggles with making sure that Tom follows a lighter path while praising him every time there is some progress. In many ways, Harry succeeded: Tom is not planning on massive destruction. He doesn't discriminate; he made sure that other purebloods became more tolerant; he still wants power, but he's getting to it in ways that don't presuppose violence and murder. Every time Tom shows darkness, it's in an instance concerning Harry.

Harry loves being loved, even though Tom's love is not healthy. He loves being protected because this is something he missed severely in his first life. A big part of him wants to be taken care of, to let go and just enjoy life without constantly having to make difficult decisions. Tom gives him that, and under some conditions, they could be happy together, finding a perfect balance.

Alas, it's not going to happen any time soon (or maybe at all ;)!    

[wadebramwilson]

Grumblings about work below cut.

Dear Diary,

Uh, I had a bit of a rough shift today. Nothing bad happened to me or my patients, everything was okay. But also I worked with this dude who I’ve never worked with before and he really rubbed me the wrong way, Tumblr. 

And part of me thinks that is more of a negative reflection on me as a clinician and as a person, and maybe I’m just disliking him because he’s highlighted the parts of me that I don’t particularly like. 

But what are blogs for if not to air the part of you that you don’t love? 

This guy was very open to clinical discussion. Which was great, tbh. I am not as up as I should be on a lot of my protocols because I really struggle to follow through on things that I’m not enjoying. So we went over a lot of our new clinical practice updates. This is great. I needed that. It really showed me the areas that I need to work on, for the times that I can’t easily consult them, and also that I am currently in a position where I’m a little bit hesitant of some clinical discussions because I do have a lot of uncertainties. So that’s me. I need to work. I’m happy to acknowledge that and accept that. This isn’t a secret. 

But the other thing is that he would only discuss things that he’d just looked at, he would ask questions but wouldn’t answer them. He would only engage in these discussions with his ipad in his hands, never while driving or without reference material.  He’d tell me a ‘fact’, but then if I asked any follow up questions about it, like the why’s and how’s and what would that look like, he wouldn’t offer any more information. And its okay not to have all the answers, but then he gets defensive about it? Like I am genuinely interested to know more about what you are telling me, so go on and share. 

Maybe he is very competent but just an arsehole, though I very much get the opinion that people like that are all talk.  The other thing is that his questions were not very clear sometimes, so I’d go and be a good sport and give him four different answers, and none of them were the exact wording or the exact scenario, so to him they were wrong? Or he wouldn’t even listen to my answer, and then tell me the answer that was exactly what I said. And even if I didn’t answer in the order that made him happy.  And he was quite happy to make a joke at my expense but wouldn’t engage in any other kind of banter. I tried so hard to be friendly and I just felt like he made it so difficult. 

Then, for example, I was packing cables away in the way that I have found is least likely to get them tangled on the way out. I’ve worked 7 years. I have been packing cables a long time. He comes up to me, pulls them all out and tells me that it’s the wrong way and they’ll get tangled. No. I do it this way precisely so that they don’t get tangled. Don’t stand around watching me work so that you can tell me how to do my job. Go and check the car out. Make yourself useful. That for me was really... this is such an insignificant thing. He just really wanted to tell me one more time that I was wrong. I don’t think there’s any place for that. Honestly, he didn’t do any morning checks either. I was getting very annoyed and by that point in the day I was just sick of him. 

And its terrible because I genuinely like having clinical discussions and I’d like to have more of them but the whole experience was so negative because of the way he communicated. He was just a jerk. I am not excited for tomorrow. 

It all came across very condescending and very superiority complex for my liking. I’m not interested in that. 

How much of that is me being defensive? I honestly don’t know. I just think that if you are going to engage in learning and development then it has to be a positive experience. And if you are going to ambush people then you’ve got to be prepared to be ambushed. And if you’re going to highlight other people’s shortcomings, then you need to be prepared to own your own.

Gosh, now I don’t know. I feel like a terrible person and a terrible clinician. But that guy was absolutely a jerk. 

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Not sure if your asks are open but, I had an idea. The Papas/Cardinal get into a fight with their s/o, realizing afterwards that it was mostly their bad. How do they apologize and make it up to their s/o?

I LOVE this idea, because it’s a great way to see the very real human side of these guys! It’s nice getting to write them being honestly petty or in the wrong, as I don’t explore this as much as I’d like!  I enjoyed getting to look into their negative aspects and how they individually work to overcome their bad behaviors, so thank you for the prompt! 

Papa’s and Copia Making It Up to their S/O From a Fight that was THE PAPA’S Fault.

Papa Nihil: The argument you both had started as something small and accidentally became terrible. This is honestly where you, as his S/O, would see one of Nihil’s worst sides. Nihil is notorious for not only being stubborn, but when he feels he’s in the right he will absolutely refuse to listen to what you have to say. Coupled with decades of being Grand Papa, where his word is always LAW, makes for one very frustrating and emotionally draining argument. Hell, it’s one of the many reasons he doesn’t have a very good relationship with his children! It’s not until you leave the room, absolutely infuriated and nearly tears/rage that Nihil would actually stop to think about everything you were said. He grimly realizes that you were making good, sound points and HE was the one that had been out of line and dismissing you.

The apology doesn’t come as quickly as you might like. Because, again, this man is absurdly stubborn with an ego the size of the sun. But that doesn’t mean he won’t make it right. It takes a day or two for Nihil to battle with himself before finally approaching you. You’re almost skeptical of the pained look on his face when he says he’s sorry. That’s it? One sorry for the HOURS you went back and forth and the hurtful way he dismissed you? Nihil can’t blame you for still being upset but he sucks it up. He outlines WHY he was wrong and how, and he means it! Nihil doesn’t do this to justify his actions or invoke pity, but he will tell you that he let his own ego get in the way of what is right. You two end up having a very long, heartfelt discussion that ends with Nihil opening up far more about his short comings. 

He’s beginning to understand and accept that his behavior is destructive to the relationship you both have worked hard to build. And by Lucifer, he’s not going to let the habits that drove away so many push you away too! It will always take time after such a heated argument for you to fully forgive him, but Nihil does put in effort. He wants to make it up to you through actions- not words. So he learns to bite his tongue and not be so defensive. To keep his massive pride in check and learn that he’s not always right. And slowly he works at communicating better and actually LISTENING. He might also present you with a gift, as it’s his way of trying to make you smile. Something to clear the air and, hopefully, make you feel a little more relaxed and cheerful and not as mad at him!

Papa I: Arguments or fights between you two is very VERY few and in between. Not that you two are the perfect couple, but that you and Papa communicate very clearly and openly. So the time that you both get very heated and fight leaves you BOTH shaken, as it’s never been this serious before! Especially since he actually RAISED his voice to you. Papa is a man that prides himself on patience and to know he took such a horribly loud tone with you leaves him a bit shocked and appalled at himself. Papa has never yelled at anyone unless it was a very serious situation, and he feels horrible guilt for ever doing that to you. The only reason you raised your voice back is because HE lost his temper- and you had every right to defend yourself. 

Papa immediately apologizes but suggests you both have a moment to go into separate rooms and calm down. He’d offer to hug, if you were a person who needed that reassurance first, but to him it’s the best way for you both to get your thoughts together. So Papa and you spend at least a good hour coming down from the fight and get your thoughts together. Papa reflects on everything that happened and he knows from the bottom of his heart that he was incredibly out of line. One thing you learned about Papa is that he is the most mature and humble of his family (ironic, considering the church praises Pride and Vanity as a sin.) But Papa is a man who can admit when he is wrong, and your fight showed he was INCREDIBLY in the wrong. 

Papa gives you a very sincere and well thought out apology, especially for raising his voice at you. That’s NOT how a relationship should work, no matter the cause of the argument. You try to apologize for raising your voice back, but he doesn’t have any of it. No, you do NOT have to say sorry for defending yourself. Papa is like his father- he’s not for promises and words, he’s a man of action. Though he’s not going to try to buy your forgiveness with gifts or dates, as he feels that’s too shallow for his taste. Papa instead listens to you and your concerns for future fights and he damn well makes sure to come correct next time! Improved behavior and learning to Papa is the ultimate show of his sincerity. 

Papa II: Let’s be real, the fight started because he tends to have a condescending tone and a bit of a superiority complex. Normally, Papa’s grumpy attitude is never directed at you and only the people who work under him. With you he is an outstanding gentleman and polite. But, Papa is not a perfect man and sometimes he lets his attitude get in the way of many things. There have been plenty of times you’ve pointed out that he is very short with staff and other ministry members, and he’s never liked you correcting him but always bites his tongue. On this particular day, you told him that you weren’t going to be talked down to like you were some simple sibling of sin that was at his beck and call. The argument escalated quickly because he felt you were trying to tell HIM what to do, and not focusing on the fact that he was being disrespectful to you. 

You didn’t feed into it, though- and calmly told Papa to come find you when he got his head out of his ass. The moment you left Papa immediately felt embarrassed, like he just pulled the most childish tantrum in front of you. Granted, it took him a little while to actually approach you first. He needed the time to process what he wanted to say and to get over his own embarrassment... on top of being like his dad, and having a HUGE stubborn streak. A few days later you are approached by a ghoul to join Papa for dinner at a fancy restaurant. You accepted even if you were still peeved, yourself. To the average person it might seem like he was going to wine and dine to make it up to you- but you know better.

Dinner at a quiet restaurant for Papa is actually very important. It’s a neutral ground where you both can talk to each other calmly and have food as a distraction during awkward pauses. It’s a time for him to quietly apologize without the risk of being interrupted or having unwanted eavesdroppers. Papa, after the pleasantries of seeing you again, will cut to the chase and apologize. It’s very curt and to the point, because he doesn’t believe in begging or using fancy words to grovel. Papa doesn’t like to beat around the bush, especially when he is owning up to his mistakes. You have your own input and lay down exactly how you expect to be treated, in turn- and he listens. He makes it up to you by this dinner and a lovely calm night of talking and reconciling.... and if you two are feeling especially amorous for a ‘make up’ night, he let’s you in charge in private (wink wonk). 

Papa III: Papa is a lover and not a fighter, and rarely tries to let things escalate to a real argument. Most of the time should you fight he tries to redirect or make light of it so it DOESN’T get bad. But this time, you both ended up going back and forth to the point where feelings were hurt! It’s not until mid argument does Papa pauses and realize that the argument he started was because he misheard you, and misunderstood what you were upset about. Papa’s first instinct is to LAUGH and try to explain that he was the one who was wrong. But it’s a little too late for that! you tell him NO, that he doesn’t just get to laugh this own away! He’s confused cause he thinks he totally can considering this was just a huge misunderstanding. 

Now the thing about Papa is is that sometimes he doesn’t know when to back off. He means well, but the man is very impatient- especially with his partners being upset. So if he feels like he can fix something HE WANTS TO FIX IT RIGHT NOW! Which is all fine and dandy, but you want your space to cool off! So any of his attempts to immediately fix things just serve to irk you and make you feel like he’s brushing the situation aside. Eventually you get him out of your hair so you can have space to breathe and calm down on your own. Unfortunately for him, Papa spends the rest of his time pacing and trying to figure out what he can do to make this up for you.

Depending on the relationship you have, this can be so many different things. The next day you can be met with gifts, flowers, food, or small notes asking for your forgiveness and to call him. If that doesn’t work, more gifts or nice things with little “:(” notes attached to them. If that doesn’t work still, you might get him coming around cautiously doing silly things to get your attention and to make you laugh. Like buzzing his kazoo, doing things to purposely annoy you, or ANYTHING to just get you to look at him! When he finally gets your attention he does apologize- looking like a kicked puppy. He really does care he just really doesn’t know how to communicate a certain way. Papa HATES feeling like garbage or making you upset, and laughing is one of the ways to take the tension out of things. When you make up he might even offer something sexy as an apology! take that as you will! 

Cardinal Copia/Papa IV: The road to Papacy was filled with stress for both Copia and you. There would be days where you both were so high strung that the smallest things could make you snap. But your ire was never directed at each other until one night when the stress came to the head. Neither of you can even remember what sparked the argument, just that it was really insignificant in hindsight. Something small happened and suddenly Copia snapped at you. It went from bickering to a full blown argument where you both had to sleep apart for the night because you both were so angry and exhausted! 

When Copia can’t sleep it’s because he plays the fight over and over in his head. That night he’s plagued with realizing he started with you for virtually no reason and took out his pent up stress out on you. To say the least, the next day Copia looks like utter shit. When he sees you and you are ready to talk to him he grabs your hands so fast and practically begs for forgiveness. If he wasn’t so in control of himself he’d be on his knees in front of you. A bit dramatic, like Papa III, but it’s from deep seeded fear that his massive mistake will make you leave. Copia doesn’t get close to people very often and the thought of losing you kills him! 

But his pitiful pleas eventually stop and he sits to have an adult discussion with you. First and foremost, apologizing for ever putting you through all of that. Stress is not an excuse to go apeshit on someone who is just trying to help support you- especially over something so trivial. He listens when you tell him your own feelings and how you want to set a line of what is and what is not acceptable- which he whole heartedly agrees with. He’s a man of showing that behavior is far more important in showing someone you are sorry... but that doesn’t mean he won’t send you flowers or your favorite food during the day. It’s something he does for his own peace of mind and to show you he is thinking of you and does care. Copia also ends up communicating with you more often when he is stressed and needs to be alone than just holding it in. Copia is loathe to think of letting himself EVER blow up at you again! 

[runela9]

Alright, folks. This is gonna be a long post and I'm rather piqued, so if you're sensitive to drama or just dgf, I'd recommend skipping this one. 

If you're curious enough to read this, here's a quick backstory. User tinybed left a rude comment on a (genuinely funny) joke about positively recovering from mental illness. @dungeons-and-dragonborns replied basically saying "hey, maybe don't shit on people's coping mechanisms?"  tinybed immediately made an ass of themselves and tried to start a fight. Which they lost. Badly.

So I come in, see what looks like a kid starting drama because they misunderstand tumblr as a concept, and try to explain somethings to tinybed.  I summarized the thread, offered some real world comparisons for context, told them what they did wrong, and suggested they look back at their behavior with a clear head and reconsider acting like that. I'll add screenshots of the original thread in the comments

Apparently tinybed did not like this suggestion.  And apparently I was incorrect in assuming that they would either take my advice or ignore me, like literally anyone else would. Nope. They tried to start shit. 

Unfortunately, I ascribe to the philosophy of "do no harm, but take no shit."  So imma spill the tea.

@tinybed I tried to talk to you like a rational adult, but apparently you have the maturity level of a sixth grade girl, so let me try a language you might be able to understand.  You wanna go?  Let's fucking go.

Essay?  Bitch, that shit was five paragraphs. 316 words.  I could have fit it in three tweets.  If you think that constitutes an essay then your lexile score is lower than I thought.

You hid my reply and then screenshoted parts of it so you could vague about me. Well, guess what bitch? I noticed.

The advice I gave in my original comment was genuine; I do hope everyone with trauma heals from it and relaxing by doing things you enjoy is a great way to clear your head and get some perspective.

I'm also being completely genuine right now, when I advise you to go fuck yourself, in the ass, with a cactus.

And I didn't go to "cycle analysis school," whatever the hell that is. But I am a psychologist, you condescending little fuck. I mainly work in elementary special education, but fortunately I have enough experience with kindergarteners to know a tantrum throwing brat when I see one.

As for your cutesy hashing, you're right.  I'm not "completely normal."  I have a laundry list of neurodivergencies and mental illnesses. But at least I don't have Terminal Brain Rot or Insufferable Asshole Syndrome, like you apparently do.  But, whatever. Congratulations on cyberbullying an autistic woman on tumblr.

...or trying to, at least. Cause you couldn't even do that right.  Those little "memes" you made of me were so bad I actually felt sorry for you. For a second, before I remembered what a massive tool you are.  Honestly, it might have been less pathetic if you'd used a goddamn minion meme ripped from Facebook.

And a couple of shitty gifs with the same sentence on top?

These are deeply terrible, and you know it. That, or you know what a massive shitheel you're being. Why else would you disable the comments?  You knew you'd get criticism and your fragile little ego couldn't take it because you're a fucking coward and afraid of the consequences of your own stupid-ass behavior.

I physically couldn't give less shits about whether or not you want to shave your head.  That's a perfectly valid hairstyle and lots of people look great with no hair, regardless of gender.

No, I was actually referring to the bits where you said "...one of the most insane times of my life where i was least secure in myself" and where you compared people who call themselves sexy to "a chimpanzee begging for its life" immediately after calling yourself sexy.

Generally, functional people don't respond to innocuous comments with that level of vitriol unless they have some kind of personal trauma associated with it. So between your incomprehensible rage, irrational behavior, and that chimpanzee post, I just figured you had some issues with self image.

But I shouldn't have assumed, and I apologize for that. Clearly, you don't have any trauma, you're just a seething pustule of hatred, poorly masquerading as a human being.

Careful, that superiority complex you're using as a crutch won't support the weight of your immense self-esteem issues for much longer. Eventually you'll have to face yourself in the mirror, whether you broke it or not, and you're going to see a depressed chimpanzee looking back.

[gukyi]

plant boy | jhs

summary: after seven years of doing it, you’d like to think you’re an expert at skipping class. stay hidden, stay quiet, and act inconspicuous. but when you accidentally draw the attention of jung hoseok while you’re camping out on the benches outside the greenhouses, you begin to realize that all it takes is a boy with sunshine at his fingertips and a particular affinity for herbology to change things.

{hogwarts!au, opposites to lovers!au}

pairing: hoseok x female reader word count: 11k genre: fluff, light angst warnings: playing hooky - stay in school kidz! a/n: happy lunar new year, everyone!!!! here’s my gift to you as a blessing for the new year. hope y’all lucky as hell. aside from that, a couple notes:

1. i know it’s literally been 84 years since i last posted a part for my sorted series. my bad! anyway, here is the much awaited plant boy, and the rest of the parts should be following shortly.

2. this takes place before the events of tutor! that’s why namjoon’s still kind of a dick in this one. sorry for any confusion!!

3. dedicated to this fic’s numero uno fan, 陈 anon!

Time seems to pass by extra slowly on days like this.

Days where you’ve earned yourself another detention, adding it to the list of the ones you go to (and the list of the ones you’ve skipped), trapped in a classroom that you can’t Alohomora your way out of, one designed specifically for troublemakers like you. Back in your first and second years, they used to give you detentions that sent you into the Forbidden Forest to do some other teacher’s bidding, or they’d make you clean out and reorganize the Potions closet, or tidy up the disastrous greenhouses at the edge of campus, or sort the library books or wipe down the tables in the Great Hall.

They learned after the first two years that even menial tasks such as those can’t be trusted to be placed in your hands.

Now, in a punishment seemingly designed for irritable, easily-bored, fidgety, vengeful students just like you, you sit in a classroom supervised by a snotty teacher—or even worse, the Head Boy or Girl—and watch as the seconds tick by.

It’s normal; you’re used to it at this point, but that doesn’t make it any less soul-sucking. All you can do is wait with your chin resting in your palm, the wooden pencil you use (because quills are archaic and weird) tapping against the desk. It’s not much, but at least the noise distracts you from the ticking time-bomb in your brain, on the verge of explosion. Not to mention, it does tend to drive the person who has to keep watch over you just a little bit mad.

Deduction of House Points doesn’t seem to have any effect on you whatsoever. You pity the poor folks who share the same house with you, the same blue and bronze decorating their robes and ties, having to suffer through watching their House Points decrease and decrease until the professors felt so terrible they stopped punishing your House and started punishing you instead. It worked out for everyone, really. The teachers stopped having a guilty conscience and the rest of your House-mates stopped giving you the stink-eye whenever you passed by them in the hallways.

You’re in today because Potions class is a joke and that’s that. You can’t really be too sure what you actually did in Potions today, anyway, because anything you’re taught really does just go in through one ear and out the other. You spent the entire class, rather than focusing on the actual lesson, brewing a Confusing Concoction so potent it permeated the air, causing everyone else to fall into a bewildered stupor and turning the lesson into chaos. All it really takes is double the amount of sneezewort. Simple, when you think about it.

Regardless, the lesson ran amuck and who else was to blame except you, of course. Imagine everyone’s horror if it had turned out that it wasn’t you who claimed the blame for the overwhelming scent of pure, unadulterated befuddlement. The day someone else is as disruptive as you is the day the entire Hogwarts campus bursts into flames.

Tap, tap, tap.

Your feet have started to join in, creating a rhythm that surrounds you as you match up the beats to the ticking of the clock above the doorway. It’s natural for your hands to turn to this, resorting to music as your immediate form of entertainment—you played piano all throughout your childhood and even now, music seems to be one of the only things that hasn’t abandoned you entirely, alongside your disregard for structured education and your charm.

Tap, tap, tap.

How much longer? It seems like you’ve been here ever since classes ended at three. It feels like you’ve been sitting in the same desk in the same empty room for the past three days. Your stomach grumbles. You think you’ve forgotten what food tastes like. You might die in this room, to be honest.

Tap, tap, tap.

It’s a real shame they don’t trust you to do the other standard detention tasks. Not that their judgement is misled in any way, because it’s not, but even rearranging the Potions closet would be more intellectually fulfilling than this. There’s more to life than rewards and punishments. You’re just waiting to see when they’ll actually realize it.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Y/L/N.”

Interrupted from the sick beats you were laying down, you look up to see Kim Namjoon, your designated chaperone for the afternoon, appearing severely disgruntled. The thick-rimmed glasses he’s wearing have slid all the way down his nose bridge, and he’s clutching onto the quill in his hand so tightly you think it’ll snap in half.

“Yes, Namjoon?” You ask sweetly, resting your chin in your interlaced hands as your elbows press down into the desk. You know he hates when you call him by his first name. It’s just another reminder that he is in no way superior to you. Just because he gets good grades and all the professors fall to their knees at the sight of him. His so-called academic excellence doesn’t excuse him from being an asshole.

“This might be a particularly difficult concept to get through that empty head of yours, but have you ever thought of being quiet for once in your life?” He asks, peering over the top rim of his glasses. It’s clear he wants to be here as much as you do. But you’ve been graciously handed the opportunity to torment who is probably your biggest enemy on campus, and you won’t pass it up.

“But we’re having so much fun, Namjoon,” you continue, condescending tone thick on your tongue. “You wouldn’t want to just sit here in silence, would you? I can hear you thinking from all the way over here, and trust me, it’s not pretty.”

“Are you treating this as some kind of joke, Y/L/N?” Namjoon asks with a frown, looking more and more like an angry, eighty-year-old professor who eats his students’ hearts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  

Truth be told, the last time you took detention seriously was in your first year here. Back when you were a little baby of a student, intimidated by all of the teachers and older students and desperate to make a good impression. Now, you like to think of detention as an opportunity to clear your mind, maybe meditate for a bit, and of course, be a nuisance. It’s one of your most favorite hobbies.

“It’s only a joke because you’re here,” you singsong, making the kid at the desk roll his eyes behind the thick lenses that he’s wearing. “You take everything so seriously, you should learn to lighten up once in a while. It’ll do wonders for your grades.”

Namjoon stiffens. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be telling me how to manage my grades,” he quips. You force out something between a chuckle and a cough, disappointed but not surprised that Namjoon would whip out his superiority complex about his academics as a means of shooting you down.

“You humor me, Namjoon,” you hum to yourself.

Namjoon continues scowling. You think that if he frowns any more the expression will be permanently etched onto his face. “Have you ever considered that maybe the reason you end up in detention all the time is because nobody likes you?”

Never has Namjoon been so rude to you. Granted, you’re well aware of the fact that you’re certainly not the most popular kid on campus, by a long shot, too. You know that people like Namjoon, with good grades and fake attitudes and quirky little characteristics are the ones that will go on to succeed within these walls. But Namjoon seems to be particularly hostile to you today. Maybe he drank something strange this morning.

“Damn, and here I was thinking we were best friends,” you deadpan, unfazed. “You know, unlike you and everyone else here at this school, I don’t really care what people think of me.”

“You think you’re so special because you’re rebellious and alternative and you don’t give a shit about what others think of you,” Namjoon taunts. “But you’re not. You’re just another reject Hogwarts kid that doesn’t have a future outside of these walls. Maybe if you learn to conduct yourself properly, then you will.”

The belltower in the courtyard chimes, signaling the end of your detention. Wordlessly, Namjoon gathers his belongings and struts out of the room, turning the corner sharply to go and gossip with his other bratty, pretentious friends that dislike you as much as you dislike them. The things Namjoon said to you pale in comparison to other things you’ve been told by disgruntled professors, angry students, and everyone in between. But it’s a modern day tragedy that Namjoon gets to treat you like a buffoon and still gets hailed as the king of the school, meanwhile you telling it like it is earns you weekly detentions.

With a groan that reverberates off the walls of the classroom you’re in, you pull yourself to your feet and head back to your dorm, where you plan on wallowing in self-pity, ignoring anyone who does try to talk to you, and of course, not doing your homework.

Some things never change.

The next day finds you strolling right past the stairwell that leads down to the dungeons at half-past twelve, thinking that maybe your professor won’t be too happy to see you after the previous debacle. You wouldn’t be surprised if the scent of the Confusing Concoction still lingered, not strong enough to make your head spin but just enough to leave you a bit in the dark. You imagine not many people were productive in the Potions classroom that day.

It’s not that you skip class on purpose, per se. It’s more a result of the snowball effect, one thing leading to another and another until human confrontation seems like it’ll worsen the problem, rather than alleviate it. Even if the professor doesn’t berate you in front of the entire class, being there immediately after one of your… incidents stirs people up, makes them whisper about you. You don’t care what they have to say, but you’d rather not hear them try to mask what they’re saying while right in front of you. You have ears, too.

So, electing to go to the place that is practically the entire opposite of the dingy, dark dungeons, you head up the stairs at the end of the hallway, towards the greenhouses. You’re not too sure if Sprout has a class right now, but even if she did, you’d just go hide on one of the benches and wait until your next class. If you felt like going to it, of course.

Whenever you do skip class, you don’t allow yourself the luxury of holing up in your dormitory and sleeping the hours away. If you aren’t going to be in class, you’re going to at least be productive elsewhere, whether it be hidden away in the library bookshelves or taking one of the hidden passageways to Hogsmeade or now, camping out by the greenhouses and letting the fresh air clear your mind.

You find a bench to settle in on, stretching out your legs as you lean against the glass, hidden from the inside by a wall of plants. Shuffling through your belongings, you pull out a muggle book that had been left in the Great Hall for a week without anyone laying claim to it. It’s a little too fantastical for your liking, a story about a futuristic world where children have to fight each other to the death as payment for their ancestors rebelling against their capital city, but it’s an alright read. It’s certainly much more enjoyable than anything you’re assigned to read for class.

You’re not worried about getting caught—in fact, it’s probably the lowest on your list of concerns—but at this time of day, when all classes are in session and students are only roaming the hallways if they’re in need of a bathroom break, footsteps do catch you off guard. Not that another detention will do you any harm or good.

Rather, when you look up from your page you see, through the fogged up glass of the greenhouse, a Hufflepuff boy from your year looking back at you, a watering can held in his hands. Red-handed, you feel yourself forcing a smile his way, hoping he doesn’t think much of another student being here, let alone you. Maybe he doesn’t know who you are at all, though you doubt that entirely. Frozen, you watch as he places down the watering can and heads towards the back door of the greenhouse, right by the bench you’re sitting on.

Without the foggy glass to blur his features, you recognize him instantly. It’s Jung Hoseok. In your fifth year, you often had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs in your year, and he stood out far more than anyone else. You didn’t pay much attention to him, but you’ve seen enough to know that he has quite a knack for the subject, not to mention Sprout wrapped around his finger. He would open his mouth and already she would be handing ten points to Hufflepuff.

Needless to say, him walking towards you makes you a little nervous, as you suspect the first thing he’ll say when he sees you, clearly skipping class, is Sprout’s name. You’ll be handed another detention in no time.

You turn back to your book and pretend that he’s not there, acting like you’re engrossed in the novel as you hear the footsteps along the cobblestone path getting louder and louder. Within no time, you feel his presence next to yours, looming over you like a cloud that spells out doom. Turning the page, you brace yourself for what’s to come.

Then, “What book is that?”

You look up at Jung Hoseok, who is peering down at you not with disdain or contempt, but with pure, unadulterated curiosity. Straining his eyes to see if he can make out a title on the front cover.

“Uh, just some muggle book,” you say casually, hoping you can get through this conversation without being punished.

“Really?” He asks, eyes lighting up with interest. “My friend Tae is muggle-born, maybe he knows it? He’s a fifth year.”

“Cool,” you say, nodding. The faster this conversation is over, the better. Before he recognizes just exactly who you are and runs away screaming to tell a teacher on you.

“Do you come here often?” He asks, motioning to the greenhouse behind you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was an undercover interrogation. With seven years of constant trouble under your belt, any sort of questioning seems to turn into a court hearing whenever you’re involved.

“Less often than I should,” you respond cryptically. It’s true—the greenhouse is definitely one of the more peaceful places you frequent when you should be attending class, always so calm and serene. Nature seems to have that effect.

“It feels that way, doesn’t it?” Hoseok muses to himself. “No matter how much time I spend here, it’ll never be enough.”

This piques your interest. “How often are you in the greenhouses?” You ask somewhat accusingly, like you’re in total disbelief at the idea that the greenhouse goody-two-shoes would even suggest such a thing as skipping class. Someone like Jung Hoseok? Impossible.

Hoseok smiles sheepishly. “I know every inch of every greenhouse, from the roots of the plants buried deep in the soil to the cracks in the panes of glass on the roof. I have etched the feeling of the dirt beneath my palms into memory, memorized the makeup of every plant that this school grows. But I have no idea what’s going on Arithmancy right now.”

His self-awareness makes you laugh, chuckling as you smile to yourself. “Hey, that makes two of us.”

“You’re Y/N, right? I’m Jung Hoseok. Mind if I sit?” He asks, pointing to the empty space on the bench next to you. There’s more than enough room for it to not be awkward or invasive.

You motion for him to go right ahead. Nothing in the conversation has raised any red flags, and as far as you’re concerned Hoseok’s a nice person to chat with, someone to keep you busy as the two of you avoid your legitimate responsibilities.

“Surprised you’d want to be seen out in the wild with me,” you joke, trying to make light of the situation. “I’d hate for your reputation to be ruined.”

“Yeah, my reputation as Nerdy Plant Boy would be soiled,” Hoseok says. He pauses for a moment and then bursts into laughter. “Get it? Soiled? Because I like plants?”

Maybe his pun was the worst thing your ears have suffered through in a while, but his happiness is electric and his joy is contagious. You find yourself grinning at the mere sound of him enjoying himself, laughing his head off at the pun he just made.

“I mean, you are technically skipping class right now. Just saying,” you remind him.

“Yeah, under the guise of Sprout asking me to help maintain Greenhouse 3. It’s totally overgrown with ivy; she can hardly use it for any lessons. Transfiguration was never really my forte anyway,” Hoseok comments. “But you skip class often, don’t you?”

“Is that a problem?” You challenge.

“Only if you make it one,” Hoseok responds casually. “I mean, you do you. Didn’t you make some superhuman Confusing Concoction the other day?” You nod guiltily. “Oh my God, I walked into Potions that afternoon and felt my head spinning! I had to run down to the greenhouses to get some air. I never made it back to Potions.”

“So neither of us actually knows what happened in class that day?” You ask with a smile.

“Nope,” Hoseok says, shrugging. He doesn’t really seem to mind the fact that he doesn’t attend his classes either. In fact, kind of just rolls with it. “I’ll probably have to ask Namjoon about it.”

The mention of who is probably your biggest enemy makes you inwardly groan. “Oh, don’t tell me the two of you are friends.”

Hoseok chuckles. “He’s certainly not keen on you, that’s for sure,” Hoseok says, crossing his arms. “We’re not close, but I guess you could say we’re sort of friends. I just see him around a lot, and sometimes he asks me for Herbology help. ‘S all.”

“The great Kim Namjoon? Head Boy? Best grades in the class? Asking for help? Unheard of,” you say dramatically, making Hoseok chuckle.

“I doubt he has the best grades in the year,” Hoseok says. “There’s that girl that McGonagall loves that does better than him, I think. He told me he has a massive crush on her.”

“That’s… grossly adorable,” you admit. “But you’ve always been good at Herbology, haven’t you? You were in my class fifth year. You know, when I went to class. Sprout loved you.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really think I’m that good at Herbology. Sprout’s way more educated than I am, and sure, that comes with experience, but really, I just love plants. I love nature, more broadly. I’m a certified tree-hugger,” Hoseok tells you proudly.

“Hey, listen, there are worse things to be,” you reason out with him. “For example, you could be the girl that made a superhuman Confusing Concoction and earned herself a detention for it.”

“Oh, her? I think she’s pretty cool, though,” Hoseok says, pearly white teeth on display as he smiles at you.

“Do you really?” You ask, only a little skeptical.

Hoseok leans back against the glass of the greenhouse a little too heavily, making the wooden bench wobble as you both sit on it. You jump slightly before the two of you regain your balance. Like a Disney prince, he reaches up next to him and plucks a flower growing on the vines along the outside of the greenhouse walls, twirling it between his fingertips before handing it to you. “Yeah, I do.”

Meeting Hoseok outside Greenhouse 3 becomes a regular thing for the two of you. More often than not it ends up being because either one or both of you are skipping class, but what the rest of the world doesn’t know won’t hurt them. It’s strange, in a way. You’re an incredibly independent person as it is, but you never realized how much of a sanctuary you can find in another human being, even if it is just for a little bit.

In a trade for the muggle book you had been reading when he first stumbled upon you outside of the greenhouse, he brings you a little succulent for you to take care of.

“It’s just a normal succulent,” Hoseok says with a laugh as you nervously take the pot from his hands. “Nothing magical about it. Just a cactus’ weird cousin.”

“Don’t you know how irresponsible I am? What makes you think I can take care of a plant?” You ask skeptically.

“Succulents are so easy even irresponsible people like you can handle it,” Hoseok says with a wink, making you fake gag. His false sleaziness makes you a little sick. It’s just difficult to reconcile Greasy Hoseok with Nature Hoseok, who legitimately raps to the plants he’s taking care of. One time, you got to the greenhouse a bit early and found him transferring a plant to a larger pot and spitting some sick fire while he was at it. It was, admittedly, incredibly endearing.

“I don’t know if I should be offended or honored by that statement,” you say as you stare down at the succulent in your hands. It’s small—your palm can easily cup the entire pot, and it looks sort of like a very green lotus flower. Unsure of what to say next, you look back at Hoseok, helplessly.

“Well, aren’t you gonna name it?” He asks like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why in Merlin would I name it?” You retort.

Hoseok pouts, lips turning into into a little mountain peak as he frowns. “Because naming plants makes them real. Without it, they’d just be plants. Name it!”

“Do you name your plants?” You challenge, though you’d be entirely unsurprised if he said yes. He seems the type. Not that that means anything.

“Only the ones that are important to me,” he tells you. You make a mental note to explore the greenhouse with him one of these days so you can learn which plants matter to him. Which ones he cares for the most. “Are you going to name your succulent?”

“What would I name it, though?” You ask. You’ve never been super… creative when it comes to things like this. Sure, you’re good at coming up with the occasional prank or two, but nothing of any sort of artistic substance. “I’m not too good at naming things.”

Hoseok thinks for a moment, humming to himself as he searches for the right name. He taps his foot on the cobblestone, one beat per second, when his eyes widen. “Oh! I know. How about One?”

“One? As in the number one?” You ask, a little disappointed. You thought he’d whip out some fancy name in a foreign language that you’d probably have a bit of a difficult time pronouncing at first.

“Yeah, One. So that you can keep track of all of them,” Hoseok says with a grin, beaming into himself, radiating like the sun that beats down on the bath.

“What do you mean ‘all of them’?” You interrogate. “Are there more?”

Hoseok smiles, reaching out to hold the pot in his hand, letting the edges of his palm rest in yours. “There just might be.”

What ends up happening is, by the end of the month, there are at least five more pots of succulents sitting on the windowsill by your bed in the Ravenclaw dorm rooms, each of them named accordingly. They look a little bit like an army, a succulent soldiery, if you will. The rest of your dormmates have said nothing about the brand new additions to your corner of the room, luckily enough, seeing as you haven’t the faintest clue how they’d respond to you suddenly acquiring six tiny cacti. Hoseok had told you that they need cold water once a week, and you haven’t done something so faithfully since the time in your sixth year where you attempted to get a detention over the winter holidays.

The thing is that you’d just hate to let them die. Hoseok gave them to you because he believes you’re qualified enough to take care of them, and while you most certainly don’t think you are, you’ll be damned if you don’t follow through.

It’s nice. Having someone like Hoseok around is nice. He is, by nature, one of the brightest people you’ve ever met, both intellectually and emotionally, just the right amount of humor, confidence, and self-deprecation. It’s like he’s the person you’ve been waiting for at Hogwarts, someone who isn’t obsessed over grades and looks and popularity. Someone who just is. Existing, being, is humanity’s simplest task and yet so many people seem to overlook it.

You’re camped out in the Great Hall, sitting alone at the edge of the Ravenclaw table as other students wander in and out, completing bits and pieces of their homework and taking handfuls of the provided snacks, trying to accomplish everything before the weekend’s up. You’re doodling in the margins of the used textbook you have for Charms, working tirelessly on a stick figure flipbook comic. Whoever gets this textbook after you is in for a treat.

The eraser at the tip of your wooden pencil furiously scrubs at a flubbed-up bowtie (how can one side of it be larger than the other—it’s basically just two triangles and a circle) when someone, a very familiar someone, interrupts your thought process.

“What are you doing?” Hoseok asks, eyes wide as he stares down at the writing utensil in your hand.

“Um, drawing?” You respond, albeit a little unsure.

“But—but what is that you’re drawing with? I saw you just a second ago, you drew something and then you removed it!” Hoseok says, sitting down across from you. You suck in a breath and pray that no one’s noticed the Herbology king himself, actively engaging with a delinquent such as yourself.

“This?” You ask, holding out the offending object. “It’s a pencil. Muggles use it all the time—I had a friend smuggle me a few last year. They’re much more convenient than quills, no ink, no mess.”

“Fascinating,” Hoseok says, sketching a couple of lines in your textbook. “It’s much lighter than ink.”

“It’s graphite, I think. Less pressure,” you say.

“And what’s this?” Hoseok asks, looking down at the rounded eraser at the end of it. He puts it up to his nose and sniffs in hard, coughing at what is probably a strong whiff of rubber in his nostrils. “Oof, it smells awful.”

“It’s an eraser,” you say, carefully taking the pencil back and showing Hoseok how to get rid of the lines he just drew. “It… erases things.” You don’t really think you have a better way of explaining it.

“Amazing,” Hoseok says, still awed by the pencil in your hand. “But I didn’t come here for you to show me this muggle creation. I have a treat for you.”

“Don’t tell me it’s another succulent, Hoseok. I can barely keep up with the ones I already have,” you say, pleading a bit. You’d hate to sound ungrateful but Hoseok really has been piling it on with the plants and you’re starting to get the slightest bit overwhelmed.

Hoseok chuckles. “It’s not, I promise. Are you busy?”

“Eh…” you respond helplessly, staring down at your half-finished flipbook comic.

“Please,” Hoseok says with a snigger. “No offense Y/N, but you and I both know you weren’t going to do any of your homework.”

“Touché,” you concede, shutting your textbook roughly and standing up. Hoseok grins, leading the way out of the Great Hall (you attempt to ignore the stares and strange looks the other students are sending your way, especially as you pass Namjoon and that girl that he’s got a crush on, arguing about something) and directly to the greenhouses.

Hoseok’s got a bit of an extra skip in his step today. Maybe he has something extra special to show you. Is he upgrading you from succulents to actual cacti?

“If you wanted me to come to the greenhouse, we could have just met up at our usual time,” you remind Hoseok, citing the scheduled noon meetup you have almost daily, at this point. You don’t think Hoseok will ever go back to Transfiguration if you can help it. You’re rubbing off on him.

“I know, but this is different,” Hoseok says, grabbing onto your hand as he unlocks the greenhouse door. You pay little attention to the way his fingers fit between yours, holding on tightly, like he’s afraid that if he lets go, you’ll vanish. With a shake of the knob, he opens the door to the greenhouse and walks you inside to reveal what you would consider a fairy’s dream home.

He’s strung up little lanterns all over the place, hanging from the ceiling and taped to the wall in strands. There’s a peaceful sort of aura, the warm yellow lights of the lanterns mixing with the clear daylight outside, giving a sort of ethereal glow to anything inside the greenhouse. Besides just the decorations, Hoseok has a collection of various plant species on the tables in the center, all of different shapes and sizes, and next to it, a pile of the gardening tools you use in class.

“What’s this, Hoseok?” You ask in awe, fingers dancing along the strings of lanterns taped onto the walls.

“Just a little something,” he says bashfully, curling into his Hufflepuff robes slightly. “I just thought that maybe you wanted to see what I get up to in here when I’m supposed to be in class.”

“So scandalous,” you chide jokingly. “But that sounds lovely, Hoseok. What do you want to show me?”

Hoseok’s brushing his hand along the plants on the table like they’re his own children. In a way, they sort of are. “If I recall correctly, you didn’t necessarily make frequent appearances in our Herbology class in fifth year, did you?”

“I did not come here to be attacked like this,” you claim defensively.

“Well, since you skipped so much, I thought that I could teach you what you missed. Show you the proper way to care for plants, not the way that the barbaric students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry do. If you want, that is,” he says, smiling shyly. As if you were going to tell him no.

“I would love that, Hoseok,” you tell him. Hoseok beams and the golden of his robes seems to shine a little brighter.

Quickly, he scurries over and gets to work, pulling on some gloves and motioning for you to do the same. Once you’re all prepared, gloves and thick lab coat on to protect your robes, he begins to show you all of the plants he’s lined up, young trees that are still small enough to fit in pots, flowers with magical healing properties. One by one, he introduces you to them, tells you their name and their age like he’s showing you his children.

Ah, so these are the plants Hoseok cares for the most.

Normally there would be some snarky comment on the tip of your tongue, maybe a self-deprecating joke if you’re feeling extra spicy, but you don’t dare interrupt him as Hoseok’s talking, gestures animated and smile wide as he tells you everything he knows about the things he loves. There isn’t a word that even thinks about leaving your lips, not wanting to take away from the love Hoseok holds for these plants and the trust he has in you as he tells you about them.

“And this one only likes direct sunlight when the sun’s rising or setting, otherwise it gets too bright,” Hoseok says, a hand brushing along one of the thick, floppy leaves of the flower. It’s far past blooming season, so all that’s left of the annual blossom are the green bits that are holding onto the remnants of seasons past. “Keeping up?” He asks, leaning into you slightly with a hand on your wrist. “I know it’s a lot.”

“It’s wonderful,” you tell him honestly. “The fact that you know so much about these plants… spent so much time with them… it’s incredible.” You don’t think you’ve ever held so much dedication to anything in your life.

“Ah, well,” Hoseok says with a shrug, like the achievements he’s had in a subject like this mean nothing. Not everyone can do this—not everyone can speak the language of plants, of greenery, of nature. Perhaps Hoseok doesn’t notice this, but you do: the way that even just in his presence, the plants seem to perk up a little, drawn to him, to his existence, like bees to honey.

It’s like that, sometimes. Sometimes there are people so electric that you can’t help but be closer to them.

“Herbology is really all I have going for me,” Hoseok says, and even though it’s supposed to be a joke it sounds kind of sad. Sad like Hoseok really thinks the only thing he’s good for is agriculture. Sad, because Hoseok is so good at so many things that it’s turned his heart into gold. Priceless.

“That’s not true,” you respond instantly. You stop in place, making Hoseok turn to you from where he had been looking down at the pots, looking at you with a kind of helpless expression on his face. “There is so much more to you than Herbology.”

“Like what?” He asks somewhat skeptically, chuckling to himself.

“Like your smile,” you tell him immediately, making him grin a little bit, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. “And your laugh. People don’t go to you to ask for help because you’re good at Herbology. There are plenty of kids who are good at Herbology at Hogwarts. But they go to you, Hoseok, because you are someone who can teach them something. Because they know that you will treat them with respect. And because you’re good company.”

He’s silent.

“At least, I think you’re good company,” you add on. Knowing the students that walk the hallways of this magical school, there are people who take Hoseok’s gift for love for granted, coming to him just so they can get a better grade on this essay or finish this lab report. And maybe you don’t really care for grades and you haven’t done a lab report in years, but that doesn’t matter, because instead of knowing Hoseok as your homework helper, you know him as your friend.

“You do?” He asks, hopeful tone evident in his words.

“Yeah, I do,” you say back, meeting the dark brown of his irises with your own as they twinkle like stars, the fairy lights reflected in a sea of chocolate.

Hoseok smiles like it’s the last time he ever will and pulls you closer to him, handing you a freshly-filled watering can as he continues on with the lesson. And maybe, just maybe, the feeling of his arms wrapped around yours as he guides your grip on the watering can, showing you exactly how to hydrate the plant in front of you so as to ensure maximum consumption, makes your heart beat a little bit faster. Just maybe.

Something that’s come along with plenty of experience as a class-skipper is extensive knowledge of the best ways to get off of campus. You’ve heard tales, legends and fables, of this magical map that shows everybody’s whereabouts at every point of the day, alongside all of the secret passageways out of the castle, but unfortunately you don’t have your hands on something like that, so you’ve had to learn on your own.

Sometimes there are just days where even the wide, open hallways of Hogwarts are too suffocating to stay in.

Because of this, you’ve become a frequenter of Hogsmeade on the average weekday, when students are definitely not supposed to be Hogsmeade regulars. But you never really fit into the status quo, anyway.

Besides, you don’t think anyone in your standard Hogwarts classes will miss you too much if you’re gone for the day.

Hoseok is in Greenhouse 2 when you find him right before the noon classes are in session. Specks of him, little glimpses of his figure are visible through the ivy that covers the walls as he speaks with Professor Sprout about something, watching as he towers over her much shorter frame. You’d probably join in on the conversation, but you and Sprout haven’t necessarily had a great relationship the past few years (re: skipped her class all the time) and though she’s kind, she’d rat you out in a heartbeat.

Instead, while you wait, you wander into Greenhouse 3, its walls still lined with lanterns and all of Hoseok’s favorite plants waiting on the table. Slowly, almost instinctively, you begin to brush your fingers along their petals, their leaves and stems, just as Hoseok does. It only feels natural—to treat them as gently as Hoseok does. You’d feel as though you’d be doing him a disservice if you didn’t.

Perhaps it’s because the skies are overcast today, but the plants look a little sad. Not in the sense that they’ve been poorly taken care of—because you know for certain that that’s not the case—but more that they seem to be drooping, like their moods are down.

“I know,” you hum to them softly, looking at them like you relate to them. “I feel better when I’m around him, too.”

You pick up the watering can by your feet, still half-full, and slowly begin to water the plants in front of you, remembering that this one prefers having the water drip down its massive leaves rather than right at its roots. As you do so, you hear the door open behind you.

“Thought I’d find you in here,” Hoseok muses.

“Guilty,” you say fondly, finishing up the last few drops of the watering can.

“Hey, you remembered how to water them!” Hoseok exclaims excitedly, watching as you empty the can and place it back on the cement floor. “I saw you waiting outside while I was talking to Sprout.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what we you two chatting about?”

“Oh, she was just telling me about one of her old students that I remind her of,” Hoseok says with a shrug. “Said he was really good at Herbology, too. During the Second Wizarding War. Said he helped kill Voldemort.”

“Hmm, I don’t think you’re cut out for war,” you joke, making Hoseok roll his eyes.

“Oh, God. If I had to help kill Voldemort, I think I’d just die instead,” Hoseok responds back with a chuckle. “Anyway, what’s up?”

With a cheeky grin, you turn to face him, eyes alight with something devious waiting in them. “Do you want to go on a little trip with me?”

A little trip consists of telling Hoseok to look as inconspicuous as possible as you run through the hallways of Hogwarts, scurrying around corners on your way to the passageway to Honeydukes. Acting inconspicuous is already much more of an issue for Hoseok than it is for you—most people don’t ever want to bother you if it appears you’re in the middle of something, whereas Hoseok will enter the Great Hall, laden in his yellow robes, and have a plethora of people waving to him.

But the idea of doing something so blatantly against school rules (re: sneaking out to Hogsmeade) seems to have no effect on the boy as he follows you around the courtyard, hand held tightly in yours until you reach the entrance to the tunnel. He’s paid no attention to the glares you’re getting, the confused stares sent your way as the two of you scamper through the campus. To him, this isn’t something bad. It’s something fun.

“Wow,” Hoseok says as you’re creeping through the passageway. Though it’s dark, it’s clearly been heavily used. It’s probably been here for centuries. “How long have you known about this?”

“Since third year,” you respond, boasting a bit. Your creativity when it comes to your delinquency is something you pride yourself on, ever so slightly.

“You’ve been sneaking out to Hogsmeade since third year?”

“Yes,” you admit casually. “This leads right to Honeydukes’ cellar. But you’re the first person I’ve ever shown this to, so don’t spill any of my secrets.”

“Really?” Hoseok asks. You can’t turn around to make out his face, not that you’ve even be able to in the darkness of this tunnel, but you can hear the way he smiles, lips curling upwards. “I’m honored.”

After a few more minutes you finally reach the trap-door into Honeydukes’ cellar, pushing it open with all your might until it pops unlocked, allowing the two of you to climb out of the tunnel and take a quick respite amongst the boxes and boxes of treats.

“Smells like…” Hoseok says, taking a quick survey of the room. “Smells like Honeydukes.”

What he means is that it smells like sweetness.

Before any of the workers can come down here and find the two of you hiding out amongst the storage compartments, the two of you sneak up into the store’s main room, pretending to be customers rather than stowaways. You don’t suspect Hoseok’s got any money on him, but you’ve brought enough for the both of you, knowing very well that you will probably end up purchasing something on this outing. Maybe you have little regard for school rules, but you’d never steal something.

“Want anything?” You ask, giving Hoseok a nudge when you catch him staring down some Pumpkin pasties.

“I don’t have any money on me,” Hoseok says sadly. “Next time, give me a day’s warning so I can prepare accordingly.”

“I’ll buy something for you,” you say, already reaching into the pocket of your robes to pull out a couple Galleons and a few more Sickles. You’re craving something as well, though you keep eyeing The Three Broomsticks for a nice cup of butterbeer.

“Oh, no, it’s alright,” Hoseok says immediately, but already one of the Honeydukes workers behind the display case has spotted you, smiling to himself as Hoseok insists that he doesn’t want you to buy him anything.

“Come on, please? You showed me all of your plants, the least I could do is buy you a pasty,” you try to reason with Hoseok, smiling up as the fond looks from the worker cause his cheeks to redden, a little embarrassed.

Hoseok seems to grumble his consent, knowing you won’t really take no for an answer when it comes to buying him something from Honeydukes. You end up purchasing two Pumpkin Pasties and escape any sort of questioning as to whether or not the two of you should be in school right now. It seems as though you aren’t the first group of Hogwarts students to play hooky for a day to go to Hogsmeade instead.

Hoseok’s already beginning to bite into his as you make your way out of Honeydukes and onto the single street that stretches down all of Hogsmeade, thanking you through a mouthful of Pumpkin Pasty.

“Let’s sit down before you finish that entire thing within the next three seconds,” you suggest warily, eyes wide as Hoseok opens his mouth for another bite. “I’m craving some Butterbeer.”

Hoseok nods in agreement, wrapping up his pasty and placing it back into the bag that the Honeydukes worker packed your purchase in, hand reaching out for your own. Instantly, your fingers interlock, and maybe it’s because you aren’t cooped up in a stuffy classroom, or a dingy dungeon, but it feels like a breath of fresh air.

You’re seated at a table in the back corner, far from anybody who may be suspicious of two student-age customers trying to be as unmemorable as possible. You order butterbeer for the table and immediately begin to dig into your own Pumpkin Pasty, a little crushed from all of the moving around. It still tastes just as nice as it always does.

“How often do you come here?” Hoseok asks after taking a sip of butterbeer.

“Not super often,” you reassure him. “I swear I don’t just… leave school all of the time. But when Hogwarts starts to get especially suffocating, I’ll come.”

“You feel it too, huh?” Hoseok asks, more to himself. Like he’s telling himself that he isn’t the only one who feels this way. “Like being there is almost… choking you to death.”

You nod in understanding, knowing fully well that there are some things that can’t be explained through words. Hogwarts is wonderful and you’re incredibly lucky to be there, but sometimes it feels like… like it’s pressing down on your shoulders, hands wrapped around your neck. Like you’re stuck in an endless cycle, rinse and repeat of the same exact day, no freedom or autonomy to do what you want and be who you are. Combining that with someone like you makes for a very poor recipe.

“Hogwarts has always been like that for me,” you tell him. “It’s kind of obvious why. I don’t really… fit in with the crowd.”

Hoseok nods. There’s a reason you were wary of befriending someone like him, someone who is well-liked and popular and not a public nuisance. Someone who is the complete opposite of you.

“And I don’t mean to say that in a cool, alternative way that makes me better than everyone else because I’m not some pretentious asshole. I mean… I love being a witch but being at Hogwarts makes me feel isolated. And that’s kind of my fault, too, because I’m probably the bothersome student in our year, but there’s no way for me to change anybody’s minds about me.” You sigh. Stuff like this—you hate talking about it. After spending seven years building up the walls that surround you, brick by brick, conversations like this make you feel as though all of that work has gone to waste.

Maybe Hoseok is the kind of person worth breaking your walls down for.

Hoseok nods, the mutual feeling going unspoken.

“I know where you’re coming from,” he says, and it feels like a slight shocker, hearing something like that from a boy who seems to have almost everything. “I know our situations are different but… oh, I don’t know. I feel sort of… empty? In a way? God, this is hard to explain.”

“Not to sound fake deep but believe me when I say I know what feeling empty is like,” you say, sort of joking, even as you reach your hand out across the table. He takes it instantly. Maybe things are beginning to feel different.

Or maybe this is how they’ve always been.

“Let me put it this way,” Hoseok says, taking a deep breath and another sip of butterbeer to clear his throat. “If people only know me for my aptitude for Herbology, then do people really know me at all?”

And then what happens is it clicks. The gears shift into place like a key into a lock, and you realize that even if you and Hoseok are nothing alike on the outside, you being a delinquent with an affinity for rule-breaking and him being a Herbology nerd who tutors first years in his free time, there’s a reason the two of you found each other. A reason that you ended up locking eyes on the bench outside Greenhouse 3. You don’t believe in prophecies, destiny or any other higher powers that act outside free will, but it feels sort of like that. Feels sort of like you and Hoseok were always meant to find each other. Even if it did take seven years.

“People know me for what I’ve done and not who I am,” Hoseok says. It feels sort of familiar.

“People know everybody like that,” you remind him.

Hoseok’s eyes gaze to where your hands are resting upon each other’s on this hard, splintered wooden table, and then he looks up at you. Suddenly, it’s as though you’re drowning in them. In his being. In him. “Not you,” he says.

Maybe things are beginning to feel different. But maybe this is how they’ve always been.

Like in the real Wizarding World, news spreads around Hogwarts quickly. For the past few weeks or so, you and Hoseok have been meeting up at relatively quiet times during the day at Hogwarts, where very few students are out and about and even less are at the locations you frequently meet up at. But with your meetups becoming more and more plentiful, what has also increased is the number of students around you when you do spot Hoseok.

It isn’t a problem when you’re the subject of their whispers, their stares and pointed fingers. It’s never really been a problem anyway, not when it’s been this way for seven years and counting. You’re used to it.

But it is a problem when you begin to notice that it’s happening to Hoseok as well. That you being around him is like losing popularity in a shitty video game, where suddenly less and less people are interested in the both of you. He hasn’t seemed to notice—not yet, at least, he hasn’t—but when you’ve spent the past seven years of your life watching as other people glare at you, you begin to pick up on it.

It’s the small things. Small things like Hoseok walking into the Great Hall for lunch and instead of being greeted with waves, being greeted with whispers. Small things like him telling you, in the greenhouse one day, that he’s getting fewer requests for Herbology tutoring from the underclassmen. Small things like Namjoon barely saying hello when Hoseok greets him in the halls one day.

The real tragedy is how obsessed everyone at this school is with titles, with labels and popularity and association. How not only do you have to have the best grades and the coolest extracurriculars, you also have to have friends who are equally as high in Hogwarts status as you.

And it’s bullshit no matter who the vicious cycle ends up targeting, but it’s especially maddening when it’s someone like Hoseok. Someone who is only kind and giving and considerate, friendly and reliable, who, even with his faults, is still one of the best people to walk through the front gates of Hogwarts.

In the greenhouse the other day, as the two of you were caring for his plants, Hoseok told you he thought he was beginning to lose his touch with Herbology, as less and less students were asking him for help. And shit like that—that’s unacceptable.

Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe, if you begin to be the person everyone expects you to be, it won’t be like this anymore.

Hoseok’s always been too good for you, anyway. What made you think this would be any different?

“You’re just another reject Hogwarts kid that doesn’t have a future outside of these walls. Maybe if you learn to conduct yourself properly, then you will.”

Things won’t change unless you do.

For the first time in years, you wake up in time for your first class. In fact, you wake up a healthy hour before, having completed your homework early the previous night and tucked in before anyone else. Before you leave your dorm room to go and get breakfast, you make sure to water all of your succulents, the number of pots sitting on your windowsill now up to nine.

All of this is for Hoseok. Even if you didn’t realize it at first, everything you do is for him.

Your roommates don’t seem to know what to do with themselves when they see you, a full stack of the proper textbooks in your hand, as you walk out of the dormitory with your head held high, heading straight for the Great Hall. Despite what people may think, you are actually on top of most academic events in your life. Whether you choose to act on them or not, well, that’s always a toss-up.

You hope to get to breakfast early, as you have a test in Transfiguration today. It’s a written one with a single spell at the end, the one you’ve been working on perfecting for the past week. Granted, you, didn’t necessarily attend all of the Transfiguration classes in your schedule that were held in the past week, but you know enough. At least, with a bit of last minute studying, you do.

Hoseok’s begun to meet you in the Great Hall for breakfast, but by the time he’s strolling up to where you normally sit, you’ve already packing up your belongings.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” He asks playfully as he swings his body over the seat, sitting down across from you. “Or are you actually doing your homework?”

“I have a test today,” you say simply, turning back to finish gathering your books.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking about going,” Hoseok says with a disbelieving chuckle. “You hate tests. You always say they’re a poor measure for actual intelligence and proof of learning because knowledge from books isn’t the same as the knowledge required for survival in the real world. Or something like that.”

“I’m rubbing off on you,” you say with a shake of your head. “But I really do have to go, Hoseok. I need to get to class.”

Hoseok seems a bit in shock, like he can’t believe the conversation he’s just exchanged with you. You’re normally much more playful, joking around and smiling. Even still, he sends you sort of a shocked wave, bidding you goodbye as you walk out of the Great Hall, trying your very best to ignore the stares sent your way. You feel your heart thud against your chest, as if it’s just fallen slightly.

Your noon class is Charms, whose tower overlooks the courtyard with all of the greenhouses in it. Before your professor calls everyone to their seats, you quickly peer out of the window, just out of curiosity.

Below, waiting on the very bench where you first met, is Hoseok, clearly looking for someone.

Your heart sinks a little more.

You get the highest grade on the Transfiguration test. As your professor is handing back your exams, she stops by you to congratulate you on a job well done. You look down at the E written in dark red ink on the front piece of parchment. As you page through, noticing the lack of red marks and slashes in comparison to the papers around you, you can’t help but feel yourself frowning. Sure, you did well on a test, but it means almost nothing in the grand scheme of things. All it tells you is not that you’ve mastered the material but that you’ve mastered the system.

Namjoon approaches you after your Transfiguration class. You had almost forgotten he was even in it to begin with—not because he’s quiet, but because you seldom attend your Transfiguration class in the first place. His angry red robes and loud, obnoxious personality are relatively difficult to ignore.

“Y/N,” he says, coming up to you as you’re headed out the door. You have to take a different path to Charms now, one that doesn’t take you anywhere near the greenhouses.

“Can I help you?” You ask politely, albeit bitterly. Namjoon isn’t necessarily one of the friendliest people you’ve met.

“I heard you did well on that test in Transfiguration,” he says casually.

“Yeah, I did,” you respond. There’s no point in boasting any further—Namjoon wouldn’t be talking to you if he didn’t already know you received the highest score.

“Good job. I’m impressed,” Namjoon says, and if that isn’t the world’s worst backhanded compliment. Suddenly you receive a decent mark and you’re being showered in false attention by one of the smartest kids in your year? No, thank you.

“Is that all? I really do have to get to my next class,” you say, trying to break away, but Namjoon is bigger and faster than you, and catches up quickly.

“Wait, Y/N, I wanted to ask how you knew Hoseok. Is he helping you get your grade up in Herbology as well?” Namjoon says, pulling you to the side of the hallway so the two of you can chat. You know you can’t necessarily make a break for it now.

“We’re friends,” you say stiffly. Your heart seems to plummet. Just a little.

“Oh. That’s interesting. You know, if you ever want to hang out with us and my friends, you’re welcome to.”

“Because I got the highest grade on our Transfiguration test? Because you suddenly realized I had more to offer than being a nuisance? Because suddenly, now I’m smart and worthy of your time?” You challenge, making Namjoon take a step back in shock. You’ve taunted and teased him before, but never like this. You’ve never directly shouted at him. “News flash, Namjoon. I don’t want to be a part of your crowd. I don’t need all of that fake validation and clout like you do. If grades are all you care about, talk to someone else. I will not be taken advantage of, especially not by you.”

In pure anger, true unadulterated rage, you storm off, leaving Namjoon standing at the side of the hallway outside of your Transfiguration room, speechless. Almost immediately do you find yourself heading towards the greenhouses, ready to rant to Hoseok about how much you hate this school and the people who attend it.

And then you reach Greenhouse 3 to find all of the lights off and the door locked, like it hasn’t been visited the entire morning.

It’s been over a week since you last exchanged more than three sentences with Hoseok. He hasn’t spoken to you in two days. You haven’t even seen him in one.

And yet, here you are, waiting for him like a fool. Like a desperate fool who’s lost the only friend you’ve had in a very, very long time.

Like a fool in love.

When you walk into Charms that day, the very first thing you do is peer out the window. You know it’s hopeless, at this point, to be holding out for someone you’ve all but abandoned, but maybe. Just maybe.

Just as you reach the window, you spot a figure in yellow robes walking inside, not even bothering to spare a glance behind him, but it’s enough. Quickly, you pull out the homework assigned and leave it on the professor’s desk, rushing out of the room and bounding down the stairs, much to the displeasure and slight confusion of your fellow Charms classmates.

You reach the greenhouses in no time, banging on the door to Greenhouse 3 as you begin to catch your breath.

The door creaks open.

“Y/N?” Hoseok asks, looking only slightly worse for wear as he looks at you, almost as if he’s in shock that you’re even here. “Did you… run here?”

“It’s the most exercise I’ve done since you tricked me into getting on the Whomping Willow,” you joke, making him laugh slightly. Slowly, slowly, slowly. Slowly, the Hoseok you know is beginning to return.

“Hey, I promised that I knew how to control it, alright?” He says, letting you inside.

“That didn’t make it any less terrifying,” you tell him pointedly.

A silence settles around the both of you, neither of you knowing exactly what to say next. Hoseok seems to drift towards the watering cans, fingers itching to care for the plants behind you, but then he says, the most bitter you think you’ve ever heard him, “Don’t you have a class right now?”

“Hoseok…”

“Tell me the truth, Y/N,” Hoseok demands, turning to you. “Was it me? Am I the reason you stopped hanging out with me, coming down to the greenhouses? Is it something I did?”

“No—”

“Then why didn’t you tell me,” he pleads. “Why didn’t you explain what happened? I waited for you, right here, for the past week, and you never came. Every time I tried to talk to you, you dismissed me and went off to do your homework. I had to hear from Namjoon that you did well on your Transfiguration test. Why didn’t you want to tell me those things? I wouldn’t have told you the bullshit that Namjoon said to you. You know that I wouldn’t have.”

“Hoseok—”

“Y/N, I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve always been waiting for you. Why?”

“Because you’re too good for me!” You shout back, voice desperate, hoarse. “Because you are way, way too good for me. Don’t lie to yourself, Hoseok. You know that we’re different people. We started hanging out and people began to talk about you. You know that I’m the reason you stopped getting less tutoring requests? Because people began to associate you with me?”

“I don’t care! I don’t care about shit like that, Y/N. I hate that you’re always putting yourself down because you and I are different. That doesn’t make you worse than I do. You, of all people, should know that,” Hoseok responds, equally as distraught.

“I can’t help it! Everyone talks about it; I can’t just pretend it isn’t happening! Sure, I hate that this is how it is, but I can’t change that. You know I can’t change how this world works. But I can change myself, if you’d just let me explain—”

“You turned into a different person overnight, Y/N,” Hoseok says with a frown. “Suddenly you were doing your homework and going to class and being on time and it felt like you didn’t have time for me anymore! It was like I didn’t know you at all,” he trails off, looking down at his feet. “Why did you suddenly turn your life around? To impress everyone else? I never thought you’d turn into one of them, Y/N.”

Red flashes before your eyes. “You want to know why I changed?” You shout. Hoseok nods, furious. “Because I love you, Hoseok! That’s why I changed. Because I love you and you’re too good for me and I thought that maybe if I was a bit different, we’d have a better chance.”

Hoseok is speechless.

“I’m sorry,” you say, much quieter. “I hated the way people were treating you because of me and I know you probably don’t even feel the same way but I just felt like I had to do something, so I—”

Within the second, Hoseok is storming over to you, footsteps heavy, and planting his lips atop yours.

It catches you by surprise instantly, making you gasp into his mouth before you feel his hands come up to hold onto your waist, pulling you in tight. It’s not a deep kiss, no tongue or anything else, but that doesn’t make it any less meaningful. Doesn’t make the rays of heat that radiate off of his body bleed into your skin, warm you from the inside out. His hold feels like home and his lips taste a little bit like strawberry chapstick and pumpkin.

Eventually, you part, and all of the fight seems to have drained out of the both of you. Like you had forgotten why you were shouting in the first place.

“Do you mean it?” Hoseok asks, holding you close, hands having moved from your waist to your cheeks, to cradle your head in his palms.

“What?” You ask.

“You know what,” Hoseok says, rolling his eyes at your defiance.

“I do,” you hum softly, lips curling upwards.

“Good,” Hoseok says. “Because I do, too.”

“What, exactly, is it that you also do?” You ask cheekily. You really just want to hear him say it.

Hoseok groans, but follows it up with a gentle kiss, a simple press of lips against your forehead. “I love you, too.”

You end up spending the rest of the day in the greenhouse with Hoseok (old habits die hard), caring for his plants and having the civil conversation you were probably meant to have before the whole argument from earlier in the day. You’ll never know what you missed in Charms that day, but that’s alright.

“I never got to congratulate you on getting the highest grade on your Transfiguration test,” Hoseok says.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I don’t even want to talk about it.”

“You know, Y/N. You don’t need to 180 your personality if getting good grades and doing well in school is what you want.”

You stiffen at the implications of this conversation, hidden beneath Hoseok’s words.

“I’m serious,” he says, dropping the watering can in his hands on the ground and coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist to embrace you from the back. “I know it goes against your whole ‘school is a societal construct that ranks us via arbitrary values that are meaningless in the real world’ but you’re actually a genuinely intelligent person. You could stick it to someone like Namjoon, if you want. I’ll tell you he was floored when he found out you out-scored him on that test.”

“Was he, now?” You ask, interest piqued. Nothing quite like sticking it to people like Namjoon. You’re their worst nightmare: a public nuisance with brain cells.

“You bet,” Hoseok says.

“I may… consider it,” you tell him, feeling relatively keen on the idea. Sure, it’s the latter half of your seventh year, but it’s never too late to start getting good grades.”

“You better. I want to walk around and tell everyone about my genius girlfriend,” Hoseok says.

“Is that what I am now? Your girlfriend?” You tease, turning around in his hold so that you’re facing him.

“Is that what you want to be?” Hoseok asks, looking down at you.

“I may consider it,” you taunt playfully, making Hoseok roll his eyes.

“Consider it done,” Hoseok corrects you, pressing a kiss to your lips before reaching down to tickle you, ruthless as always. You burst into laughter, tears falling from your eyes as you shout at him to stop.

Maybe things are different now. But if you think about it, maybe this is how they’ve always been.

⇒ hmu with feedback or just talk to me here!

[rickyriddle]

Hanabusa Sumireko analysis

Hi everyone! It’s been a while, but here’s a new AnR character analysis, this time on Hanabusa Sumireko. Spoilers for AnR and KnR.

Let’s begin with Sumireko’s past. She’s the daughter of a CEO and comes from a very wealthy family. But rather than enjoying her rich lifestyle like any oujo-sama, Sumireko’s life had been targeted since she’s a kid. Those assassination attempts against her left both physical and mental scars on her, and shaped her into the person she is now. Sumireko is now obsessed by power, by being the strongest, the true queen, and defeating Haru. Why exactly? Let’s see what kind of psychological development she may have.

Growing up while her life was always in danger must have been frightening at first for Sumireko, who must have been constantly fearing for her life, living in fear, unable to relax and appreciate life. She must have then grown up to distrust others around her, since they failed to protect her (I mean, her bodyguards must be shitty, given all those times she had been attacked, kidnapped and nearly killed…). It could even be possible that some of her bodyguards betrayed them at some point for money, making her even more on her guard and cautious of others, to a point she didn’t want anyone help anymore. Everyone disappointed her in a way, so she decided to take care of her own protection. This must be why she decided to become stronger, in order to be able to protect herself. But this desire eventually turned into an obsession.

We know thanks to the manga version that she knew the chairwoman as a kid. She even called her “Yuri-san” which could mean that the chairwoman was some kind of teacher for her, a private one perhaps. I believe that it’s Yuri who talked about Haru to Sumireko. When she learned about a girl who had a similar past as her, a girl around her age who also survived a lot of assassination attempts, must have deeply intrigued her. But to also know that Haru survived thanks to some kind of power, by making others protecting her, must have offended Sumireko. For her, who has survived on her own, who had no one on who to rely, it must be pretty insulting to learn about the existence of a girl with a similar past, yet wasn’t alone. It must have been like Sumireko’s determination to protect herself on her own had been insulted by Haru’s simple existence. But I don’t think Sumireko felt jealous or hate Haru for that. In fact, she probably eventually come to view her as an opportunity to grow stronger. To have a rival, a nemesis, someone to defeat, must have given even more determination to Sumireko to become stronger, to become the strongest, the true queen. When she knew about Haru, Sumireko didn’t only want to be stronger, but the strongest, and for that, she needed to defeat Haru. It’s possible that it was Yuri’s plan all along, since she proposed quite easily to Sumireko to come to Class Black to fight Haru. Yuri is the one who influences Sumireko into her desire to defeat Haru, and it was probably because she views in Sumireko a strong adversary for Haru. In Yuri’s mind, Sumireko was merely a pawn to make Class Black more interesting for her and to test Haru’s power. Yuri probably found it really funny and entertaining to see a “powerless” girl trying to overpower a queen bee (let’s not forget Yuri is a queen bee herself). But this isn’t a Yuri analysis, if you want to read one, click here.

Sumireko probably has some respect for Haru to have survived for so long, but it seemed that she was also condescending to her. Sumireko probably views herself as superior to Haru, because unlike her, she survived on her own. It was a proof of her superiority, that she was stronger than her, that she was the strongest queen. This desire became an obsession for Sumireko, to the point of messing with her own body. We were left to know in AnR that she became a cyborg because of an assassination attempt she underwent, that she ended up this way because she had no other choice. But, according to KnR epilogue, it isn’t the case. Apparently, her limbs were indeed pretty damaged, but could be healed. It’s Sumireko who order the doctors to cut off her limbs, saying that “I have no need for such weak limbs”. If we consider KnR as canon (as I do), it means Sumireko willingly sacrificed part of her own body in order to have stronger cybernetic limbs. This is how power obsessive she had become, and how desperate she was to become the strongest.

[Translation here]

It’s possible that Sumireko suffers from megalomania, also known as grandiose delusions. People with this delusions often overestimate their own capacities, and have an immoderate desire for power. It can be caused by a lack of affection and as a way to cope with low self-esteem. With her violent past, I doubt Sumireko had a lot of affection as a kid, and her strong desire to defeat Haru and prove she’s stronger than her could be to cope with a deep and hidden feeling of inferiority towards her, because unlike her, Haru had a special power. She could feel complexed about that, and wants to cope with it by defeating Haru. This inferiority complex turned into a superiority complex (most of the type, superiority complex is a way to cope with an inferiority complex) and she convinced herself that she was better than Haru especially because unlike her, she didn’t have some special power she was born with. To her, being a queen is not something you can be for merely being born like Haru, but something you work hard to achieve, thus making her superior. Sumireko had to work hard to achieve her own power, and made a lot of sacrifice for that. This is how I believe Sumireko developed her megalomania, as a way to cope with her horrible past and survive. Megalomaniac also has the tendencies to identify themselves as an important figure, such a divinity or royalty. Sumireko fighting so much to be the one true queen could be linked to that.

Megalomania is associated with psychosis, more exactly delirious psychosis. Not that Sumireko is psychotic, but she does act and thinks in a rather psychotic way. Despite acting strong, Sumireko must have been deeply traumatized by her childhood, because she spent so much time fearing for her life and trying to survive. It couldn’t be surprising that she also has a form of paranoia, thinking that if she doesn’t become the strongest, she won’t be able to survive. In her mind, being the strongest could be a matter of life and death. This is why she’s so obsessed into defeating Haru, to prove to everyone that she’s the true queen, the strongest, in hope that no one would dare to attack or threatened her life anymore. Sumireko probably views the act of killing Haru was a way to survive rather than simply murder, which, in her mind, justify killing her. Sumireko is too obsessed and desperate to change her mind, she convinced herself that defeating Haru was the only way to ensure herself that she will be able to survive. Sumireko views Haru as the current strongest queen and wants to defeat her in a way to comfort herself in her own strength, she needs this to prove to herself that she’s truly the strongest. Only this thought can appease Sumireko’s mind at this point, who wants to prove to everyone that her way of surviving was the right one, that her terrible past had a meaning, that it truly makes her stronger. Sumireko isn’t insane, but her mental sanity isn’t the best either, she could be viewed as mentally unstable. Her facial expression when she was trying to kill Haru were really similar to those of Banba (or rather, Shinya), and we all know she’s crazy (probably psychotic). I think it was to show how deranged and maniac she had become, because of her desire to defeat Haru. To her, at this point, being the strongest queen is probably her sole reason to live and not succeeding would almost mean her life has no meaning anymore, making her whole past meaningless, making all her sacrifices to become stronger pointless, and it’s not something she can accept. Not at this point. 

 Despite her defeat by the hand of Haru when she made her fall from the school roof (manga only), Sumireko was surprisingly understandable and seems to accept her fate, taking that it fair, she wouldn’t have apologized either (to Haru if she had managed to kill her, in response to the fact Haru said she wasn’t sorry). It shows that was able to remain dignified until the end (well, I say the end, but it wasn’t really the end, but you know what I mean), and goes along what I said earlier. Being the strongest is really a matter of life and death to Sumireko, so since she was defeated by Haru and thus, not becoming the true queen, it’s possible that Sumireko reacted calmly to her fall because she had, at this moment, lost the will to live. Being the strongest was her reason to live, and since she failed this, she has no reason to fear death or to clinge to life.

Sumireko came to Class Black to finally settle her superiority towards Haru, who had been for so long the object of her obsession. But Sumireko waited until the end to try to kill her, to make sure Haru was really worthy of being her rival, her nemesis, her adversary. She wanted to see how Haru was able to survive. If Haru had been killed by one of the other assassins, Sumireko would have the proof that Haru wasn’t that strong after all. Sure, it would have been a let down for someone who was so eager to fight Haru, but at the same time, Sumireko would be glad that someone else took care of her, if she was that weak. Fighting a weak queen would have been a disappointment to her, after all the training she did.

During most of the AnR series, Sumireko acted humble, polite, elegant and distinguished, and wasn’t treating others with condescension. I don’t think she was entirely faking it. Since she never truly have the typical childhood of a oujo-sama, Sumireko probably didn’t view herself as superior because of her wealth. It would be unlikely for her to use someone else’s power (in this case, her father’s money), to value herself as better than others. After all, Sumireko only value her own power. So it’s possible that she did view herself as superior as others, but not because of her wealth, but because of her power she worked so hard to acquire. But she never shows it directly to her classmates, probably thinking that they didn’t worth the trouble. She probably has no interest in people she views as weaker than her. Haru being somewhat of an equal to her, she had no problem showing her true nature to her, but only after she made sure Haru was indeed strong, after she had survived to all the other assassins. 

That could explain why Sumireko protected Banba when she was bullied by Otoya. At that time, it was unlikely that Sumireko had already developed a crush on Banba, thus she protected her simply by principle. I think Sumireko dislikes strong people who pick on weaker than them. It could be because of her past, when she was a weak child, she was attacked by stronger people than her. She said to Otoya that she believed that people who bully will eventually be bullied. Perhaps it’s a reference to the fact that Sumireko, who had been “bullied” (well, attacked by stronger people) became stronger than those who attacked her, thus they were the one being “bullied” (attacked, probably killed) now. It was a warning to not mess with weak people, because weak people could become stronger, like her, and that those who pick on the weak will eventually suffer the wrath of those weak people if they become stronger. Sumireko probably doesn’t really care for the weakenings, but she probably can’t stand to see someone strong use their strength against someone weaker, to her it could be an insult. I think this is why she protected Banba, because she didn’t like to see someone who appears weak being bullied by someone stronger. Sumireko put a lot of pride in her strength, and only use it to defend herself or one other strong people, so seeing someone like Otoya abusing of her power of someone too weak to defend herself is indeed offensive for Sumireko, and probably a reminder of her own past weakness when she was a helpless little girl being targeted by strong assassins. It’s not really by goodness she helped Banba, but more to stick to her own ideology about power, which could show that despite not being particularly nice, Sumireko is honest with herself and not completely devoid of compassion.

As I already theorize in my post The meaning of assassin in AnR, I don’t think Sumireko is really an assassin. She earned that title by accepting to participate into Class Black, thus accepting the job of doing an assassination, making her technically an assassin. But before Class Black, I think it’s pretty unlikely for Sumireko to be an assassin, someone who takes assassination contract. After all, she had been victim of assassins all her childhood, I don’t see why she would have become one. It would serve her no purpose. I believe Sumireko did commit murder few times, but only as self-defence or against someone who had tried to kill her (to be sure this person won’t try again and send a message to potential assassins). One of the proofs I have is that Yuri invited Sumireko as a kid to join Class Black, and I don’t think that at that time she could have possibly been an actual assassin. She wasn’t even a cyborg yet and had broken limbs. So I think Sumireko is the type to only kill to protect herself, when she feels that her life is threatened. Killing Haru kinda fits those categories in Sumireko’s mind, because to her, defeating Haru would prove once and for all that she’s the strongest, which would comfort her and show the world that they better not mess with her. It’s a long-term strategy to ensure her survival in a way, even if it’s far-fetched and somewhat crazy.

I want to finish this analysis by talking about why Sumireko relates to spiders. Otoya does it too, but for different reasons, because she likes the way they hunt their prey, she relates to spiders’ predator side. Not in Sumireko’s case. Spider is a solitary creature, and Sumireko convinced herself that the only true way to survive is by being alone. Spiders are also quite strong and even dangerous, and they inspired fear, things that Sumireko is trying to achieve. she wants to be so strong that potential assassins will find her too dangerous and fear her too much to dare to try to attack her. Spiders are also the natural predator of bugs, which bees are. It could be a way to symbolically show her superiority towards Haru, the Queen Bee, by identifying herself as a spider (Spider Queen?). She also implemented spider ability to her cybernetic limbs, such as climbing on walls and shooting wires, as if they were spider webs. It could be a way to replicate the queen bee ability in her own way, to make sure to be able to overpower Haru.

In conclusion, Sumireko is neither a bad or good person, she’s only interest into her how survival and her obsession over power. She’s pretty much a megalomaniac with slight psychotic and paranoiac tendencies due to her traumatic childhood and obsession to become the strongest. That’s will be all for the Sumireko analysis. If you have any comment or question, don’t hesitate to tell me! And now that I have done both the Banba analysis and the Sumireko analysis, the next step is a SumiBanba analysis. See you next time and thanks for reading!”

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Encased in Amber: Chapter one

For years I had been bullied by the Queen Bitch of the school Amber Steel and her click of sluts. They were always on my case about something. Always making fun of my flat chest, my tomboyish ways, my glasses or just for the fact that I was smarter than all of them combined. No Tits Nancy is a favourite chant of theirs. The summer before our senior year, however, I decided enough was enough.

A few years back my Grandmother had died and left me a spell book. I being a girl of science never put much faith into that sort of thing, but during the boring summer days when all the popular kids were out having parties and sex I decided to throw my skepticism to the wind and give the book a whirl.

To my amazement the spells worked. Simple things like changing my shoes a different colour, to more complex things such as body possession and mind altering. These last two were to be crucial to my plan. I would swap places with Amber and then change her memories to mine (minus the magic knowledge of course). The over the course of the week I would bully her as she had done to me for so long. She would know how terrible it all was. Then after the week was done I would swap back and she would hopefully of realized what a terrible bitch she was and change her ways.

I knew the perfect time to do this would be when she enviably goes to touch up her makeup during 4th period in the girls bathroom. She would ask to be excused and as always the male teacher would submit to her even though they knew she didn’t need to use the bathroom. That was Amber, she held some sort of sway over men.

To achieve this plan I knew I would have to skip my 4th period, something I had never done and felt bad for doing so but I kept telling myself it was for the greater good of not just me but the whole school. It was time that the reign of Amber was ended.

I hid in the last stall in the bathroom patiently waiting the arrival of the Queen Bee Amber. I repeated the spells over and over in my head making sure I didn’t make a mistake when I heard the bathroom door open and the unmistakeable clip clop of Amber’s expensive heels approach on the bathroom tiles. 

I jumped out of the stall and said the incantations aloud and the transfer process began. I did not expect the process to be so... orgasmic. It felt as though I was cumming every five seconds until the transfer finally complete and I was now stood facing myself.

“What the hell did you do?! Why do I look like you?” said Amber in my body.

“Don’t worry,” I said in Amber’s breathy evil voice, “it will all make sense in a week”. I spoke the memory altering words and the New Nancy looked dazedly into space.

Ok time to be Amber. I had been practicing for weeks, getting the condescending looks down and the cold stares mastered but now was the real test.

“Ugh what are you staring at No Tits? I knew it! You are totally into me!” I said with a convincing air of superiority. It felt kind of good.

“Uh, I, eh, I wasn't staring at you,” replied Nancy.

“Uh, I, eh, get the fuck out of her loser, this bathroom is for beautiful bitches only,” I said shoving past her to get to the mirror. She walked out with her head hung low.

I waited until she left and let out a small cheer. It had all worked! I finally had a chance to look in the mirror at my temporary body and admired all its curves in the right places. Amber was gorgeous even dressed down. Her tits were overflowing and I couldn’t help but touch them. I started to feel a sensation in my new thong. I was dripping wet.

“Ugh wheres a cock when you need one” I said aloud, shocking myself. I don’t say things like that but as I looked in the mirror at my new self I realized that for the next week I wasn’t myself. I took out my phone and posed for a selfie. “I am Amber fucking Steel bitch” I said to the mirror with confidence I had never known before and it only made me hornier. Why couldn't I have a little fun this week with some extra curricular activities I thought to myself with a smirk.

I strode out of the bathroom like a lioness on the hunt. This was going to be an interesting week...