#born to show affection forced to grow up so isolated and closed off that it's terrifyingly unfamiliar to me to do so

[spocks-kaathyra]

born to cuddle everyone I love all the time forced to live in a society where casual platonic affection is socially unacceptable and be too scared to challenge that notion

[wandering-words]

For the prompt thingy you reblogged—BTS for chapter 8 of Crocodile and Parakeet, “Foils” :)

(I should note that I’ve never really watched a DVD commentary before but here’s what I was thinking when I wrote this :))

Overview:

When writing Trust Issues I was already exploring how Ava and Gregory were foils naturally. Then I saw people discussing the possibility of an Ava/Gregory/Janine throuple and while I respect people who believe in it, I genuinely don’t think it could ever work because Ava and Gregory would piss each other off so much. (And in my head they would tug of war over Janine.) Then I thought “what if they were married and fighting over the same girl?” Obviously that didn’t end up being how this fic played out but that was ultimately how this fic was born. They both, to me, just would take such different approaches to wooing Janine and I thought it would be an interesting way to explore how Ava and Gregory are foils. (I also think this helps Janine explore her sexuality a bit, something she didn’t really get to do with Tariq).

Passages:

Like many public school teachers, Janine was forced to work multiple jobs to make ends meet. She’d gotten the evening shift at one of the local Starbucks, and there was one woman who showed up every time she was on shift.

I follow a bunch of teachers on Instagram and Iove that they share their stories of being on the job and how their lives were/are affected by teaching. A lot of them talked about how, especially with a single income, that a lot of times they had to work a second or third job to make ends meet so I was like “well Janine has a nice ass apartment close ish to a city and a single income so it’d be more realistic if she worked a second job”. I also love the idea of a coffee shop au so I decided to make it a barista job. (I also figured that the shifts she could take on would align more relationally with her schedule, but I could be wrong on this because I’ve never worked at Starbucks.)

From taking her order, Janine learned that her name was Ava. She was tall and curvy, with long, dark hair and a signature smirk that caused Janine to flush every time it was directed at her. Ava always wore subtle gold jewelry and came in with new acrylics every week, so Janine assumed that the woman had money.

I wanted to incorporate subtle indicators of wealth because I feel like they’re not super emphasized on the show. (I feel like Ava is wealthier than she lets on, with her influencer incomes and her boyfriend being a famous basketball player, though that second factor isn’t applicable to this fic.) It also helps isolate her presence in the fic to Janine so that Janine senses that Ava has some other intentions other than buying a drink.

It always begged the question as to why Ava would come to Starbucks when she could clearly afford better coffee.

I included this line in particular because I know people who don’t love Starbucks coffee and I thought it be a funny line to include. Also Ava to me comes off as the kind of person who’d have the potential to be picky and randomly pretentious about coffee.

[…]

“I’m sorry,” Janine said as she pulled away, and Gregory’s face was back to its stoic blankness. “I like you, like a lot, just… not like that.” She looked down at her lap and fiddled with her fingers, worried that Gregory would insult her or feel as if he was led on. She wasn’t trying to lead him on, she honestly wasn’t, she just didn’t realize that she was only attracted to him platonically, not romantically.

“I didn’t try to lead you on,” Janine said, her voice growing softer with every word. She was also trying to hide her panic, which was growing with every second that Gregory remained silent. If there was anything Janine hated more than conflict, it was silence. She talked more when she anticipated an awkward silence, though it often served to just make things feel more awkward.

Gregory merely sighed, seeming to sense that Janine would say that.

“It’s okay.” He actually looked a little relieved. “I’m just glad you told me now.” Gregory still looked a bit defeated, which made Janine look down guiltily, but then Gregory was wrapping his arm around her again.

“Hey, Janine. It’s fine.”

Janine wanted to cry. He was so attentive, even when he knew he was being rejected, and Janine wished that she felt more attracted to him for his sake rather than feeling obligated to be attracted to him because he was attracted to her.

One of my trope pet peeves is when fic authors make possible love interests assholes for no reason. Like obviously sometimes it’s warranted (especially if they’re an asshole in canon) but otherwise to me it feels like a cop out. At the time I wrote this (and I still stand by this), I felt like Gregory would be disappointed that Janine didn’t like him back, but he would understand that she’s still trying to figure things out. She’d been with one man for 12 years, mainly her formative years where she would’ve otherwise explored aspects of herself like sexuality and crushes and dating and how to be single. And I felt like Janine would feel guilty because the whole thing, on the surface, appears like a set up. She asks him herself on a date, already a massive achievement for her, and then they make strides throughout the date just for Janine to realize in the moment that she doesn’t want him. Ultimately it was easier for me to write a Gregory rejection than an Ava one. I wanted to showcase that Gregory was mature and capable of growth, that he could be the best friend Janine needed without taking the rejection too personally (or, at least, not actively blame Janine for it).

[mangher-a]

Overall

Misha was born in small village, in the middle of nowhere, in a large country with a corrupt leadership.

His village and upbringing was rather conservative, in their life styles, beliefs and behaviour. Everyone in the families have a certain role, with the men providing and women taking care of the household. 

Due to his blood, his kind was seen as guards and warriors in his country. If ordered by the state, him, his father and his brothers would be called to the frontlines of conflict. If you refused or didn’t show up, you’d be either forcefully taken to the area, or you’d be tossed into confinement which could mean that you wouldn’t get out with all your sanity intact anymore, due to torture and neglect. 

It wasn’t too rare for families to break from the inside due to large amounts of stress. However, it often led to the one being left behind hunting their family down and hurting them, possibly even killing them, before disappearing somewhere. Misha had witnessed this a few times among the people of his village. Obsession was a dangerous thing, especially when breaking a bond was added to the mix.

The state could also threaten one’s family, and thus force your hand in taking part in conflicts. 

Family

Mikhail is the second oldest of seven. He has an older sister, four brothers and one baby sister. His older sibling was married off once she was old enough, her thus moving over to her husband’s family, making Mikhail the oldest and the one in charge of keeping an eye on his younger siblings as well as helping out his father on the fields and during hunts.

The family lived in a small house, consisting of just enough space to house paternal grandparents, his own parents, himself and his siblings.

Growing up wasn’t easy. Unruly behaviour was corrected with a heavy hand by either his father or grandparents. His mother would, if able to in time, lock the misbehaving kid in a room or in a shed, so they wouldn’t be harmed by the patriarch of the family. Once he calmed down, the kid in question was allowed out again.

This has numbed Mikhail to physical altercations, given that it was more or less explained away --- all his childhood --- as a sign of caring. He also dislikes to stay in one place for too long, especially in a confined room or small spaces.

Men weren’t supposed to show emotions, given that they are the ones keeping the family safe. Showing weaknesses would just make them vulnerable. Closeness, skinship, anything the like was rare. If you were upset, you were either isolated from the group or you got confronted by the father of the family which could turn ugly fast.

Bloodline stuff

Dire wolf blood. Making his kin grow big and sturdy. Also partially resistent to wolfsbane, making it more tolerable to deal with, though painful. He will be sick for a long time and even after his body has worked out the poison, there will be moments when he seems like he just got poisoned all over again due to his body still trying to fix itself. During this time a new dosage would definitely kill him.

There is talk that in his family there’s been a few individuals who have been born immune to wolfsbane, though this mutation skips generations on the regular. In Misha’s close family there were none. (inspired by this babey here)

He’s built incredibly sturdy. He can be in a head on collision with a truck and walk it off with a light limp. 

Having dire wolf blood in him makes him tolerate silver to a certain degree. If it is pure silver it will affect him more and also kill him if you get a good shot in, though it would require to hit a vital point. If a silver bullet scrapes him, it will cause a decaying wound if not taken care of. This results in a death through silver poisoning. Very slow, very agonising. (Great torture method.) 

Something or the Other

Like with many of the children in the village, even Mikhail had a mate picked out for him. They were engaged, she moved in with him and his family. The small cramped house was now more so cramped but everyone made do. Mikhail wasn’t too interested in the whole relationship, thus didn’t really rush forth with bonding or anything. Instead, he kept avoiding the whole topic. 

However, he did end up growing close to her and there was a chance they would have bonded at some point, had shit not hit the fan. 

As stated earlier, Mikhail was often called to the frontlines of conflict, though one time he was accused of treason. The state officers took him away to confinement, while also punishing his family for housing a traitor. The time spent in isolation did a number on his mental state and when he returned, he was not the same any more. He isolated himself further, barely interacting with others though seeking comfort from his mother. Showing weakness such as that was frowned upon in his family so he was punished and belittled by his grandmother and also his father. 

Eventually the stress from the situation was starting to get the best of him. He snapped at his siblings, once hurting his youngest sister by accident, which had his father enraged. This lead to a fight between him and his father. An ugly outdrawn fight which at somepoint turned to one of survival.

The whole fight ended up with Misha blacking out, having turned to a wolf that worked on pure instinct. 

He eventually snapped back to reality, while holding one of his younger siblings in his maw, blood soaking his fur and painting the snow covered ground. He was shaking, blood rushing in his ears in a way that he couldn’t hear anything going on around him. Eyes wild he looked around, the corpse of his sibling still clutched tight. 

The village woke up to the carnage, and to the prints of a large beast having fled to the forest. One more of their kind had lost his mind and was now but a feral beast. Silently they buried the remains of the family, though wondered what happened to one of the younglings.

Misha had carried them with him, occassionally stopping to put his sister down, nudging them and whining. Licking at the wounds in hopes of easing the pain that they couldn’t feel anymore. Misha carried them for three days, until he eventually just left her somewhere, and started to wander off on his own. 

He was reliving the events over and over, especially when trying to rest. His hunts for game were sloppy, violent. He was out of his mind, though slowly healing, rebuilding himself. 

He would become a provider, just like those before him. But he would do it better, he would make it work. This is an obsession he is harbouring, resulting in almost desperate approaches when it comes to relationships. He has to make it work, or he fails, and his mind most likely can’t handle it. Once he tried dating a girl casually, but that ended with her disappearing and him skipping town soon after. 

He left his country, roaming more freely around the world in order to find himself and get his mind back on track, to find structure and a solid ground to stand on, which --- hopefully --- wouldn’t have himself lose his mind again, and hurt those he care about.

His fears of hurting those close to him is also resulting to the way he treats people; being rude, giving crude remarks, being obnoxious. Unconsciously he pushes people away with the way he acts, so that there wouldn’t be any harm to them once he snaps again, because he is quite sure, he would do it again.

However, having left his home, he is labled as a traitor, with a bounty on his head and a target painted on his back.

[gregrulzok]

Welcome Back To Me Analyzing The Zoldycks

Aka Illumi Apologea pt.3

(also TW: Abuse Ment.)

Here's the thing, all the Zoldyck kids have very varying degrees of emotional constipation. None of them act even remotely the same, and while that can be chalked up to general personality I think there's also influence from the specific circumstances in which they were raised.

The only comparable ones are Illumi and Kalluto, both of whom are very deadpan and emotionless. Both of them were raised very closely by Kikyo, who's controlling personality definitely contributed to them developing such quiet, subdued personalities. Unlike Illumi, however, Kalluto doesn't seem to feel the pressure to stay loyal to his family, as he leaves to join the spiders at a VERY young age.

What differentiates these two?

Well, for one thing, Illumi is the eldest and feels responsible for his brothers...

And for another, Illumi was trained by Silva. By the time Kalluto was born, Silva was too busy to take care of any of them.

Now, Milluki doesn't have that subdued personality at all. He's abrasive and immature, not to mention entirely anti-social. He also doesn't seem to take much pride in his family or have interest in the family business. I think what sets him aside is that he grew up overshadowed by Illumi. Back when there was only two of them, Illumi was probably favoured to be the heir, and so his training was much more important. As a result, Milluki got to largely slack off and be lax.

Alluka is totally different from all of them, as she was raised in total isolation from all of them. And... Honestly, she's also much happier than all of them. She's so much more cheerful and happy-go-lucky and it's honestly terrifying to see how much of an improvement /growing up alone/ is to growing up in the Zoldyck family. Brr.

So there it is - Milluki differs because he wasn't paid much attention to, Alluka differs because she wasn't paid ANY attention to, and Kalluto differs because he was only paid attention to by Kikyo.

So what about Killua and Illumi. Both were, to an extent, groomed to be heirs. Why are they so radically different, you may ask.

I mean, Illumi is repressed and unhappy. He's forced to suppress his emotions and can't show affection through means other than violence. Killua, for the most part, is pretty cheerful in comparison. He can make friends, he's gentle and loving with his sister, and he can fool around without any hang-ups. He has his issues to be sure, but he's leaps more mentally stable than Illumi. What gives?

Well... Illumi, as mentioned before, was raised by Kikyo. He was also trained by Silva.

Killua was primarily taken care of by Illumi, at least as far as training went.

...

Which begs the question.

However cruel and abusive Illumi was to Killua...

How much worse was Silva to Illumi?

[animepopheart]

Wonder Egg Priority, Episode 11: “The Temptation of Death”?

Wonder Egg Priority is a beautiful, uncomfortable, moving and confusing series that starts out engaging all the things we don’t talk about—self-harm, abuse, rape, bullying, gender dysmorphia, and homosexuality, to name a few. Our silence and blindness to these issues have a weight and pressure to them, and WEP shows how this reinforces the isolation and hopelessness of the young women of the “eggs” who turn to suicide for relief. The first ten episodes have been exhilarating and exhausting alike.

And then there is Episode 11. This past week, the series took a bit of a turn, leaning hard into the sci-fi-philosophical, with appearances from Greek gods, a murderous artificial intelligence, and really, really disturbing insect girls, one of whom, despite being a brutal killer, is apparently a vegetarian. Has the show gone off the rails? Has it lost its way in departing from the familiar procedural approach of engaging a differing social or mental health issue with each episode?

Such a critique is perfectly legit, but before you write off the penultimate episode of WEP, just hear me out on why the abstract, meta turn in episode 11 may just be the most valuable thing this series has to offer so far.

Before we begin though, a little recap of what we learned this week. In episode 10, we hear the eggheads, Acca and Ura-Acca, discuss the need for warriors of Eros to battle Thanatos. This is our first hint that things are about to get lore-full and maybe a bit weird. Eros and Thanatos are of course gods in the ancient Greek pantheon, Eros being the god of love, and Thanatos, of non-violent death. Within the first minute or so of episode 11, it’s clear that the eggheads’ hope is now focused on Ai becoming the long-awaited warrior. At this point though, rather than continuing with Ai’s story, the episode shifts into flashback mode and we are finally introduced to the villain, an artificial intelligence created by the eggheads back when they were still human. Their lives gradually come to revolve around her: She is the fulfillment of their obsession to create life, and she is good.

Frill is associated with hydrangeas, which symbolise heartlessness and pride in Japanese flower language. But is it her heartlessness and pride, or that of her makers?

(Atelier Emily has done an outstanding series of posts on the flowers in WEP. Check it out!)

Only, it turns out she doesn’t play so nice when others join the happy family. After killing Acca’s wife, and putting the life of the unborn baby at risk, the AI—who named herself Frill—is unrepentant, all traces of her seeming humanity now revealed to be illusory, a mere affectation. Acca locks her away in a hole in the cellar. Years pass. The baby, Himari, grows up and is a ray of sunshine. But after effectively confessing to her ‘uncle’ (why does anime always do this?), she commits suicide. Ura-Acca discovers that Frill is still very much alive and active from her hole in the cellar, having powered up all the discarded monitors and laid down reams of electrical cables—to what end, we do not yet know. Though Ura-Acca surmises that she has somehow influenced Himari to take her own life. How else would the girl have known about Ura-Acca’s admiration for her mother? Where else would she have learned to make what will forever be to me now that uncannily sinister popping sound?

Here’s where it gets weirder. Unlike the suicides of subsequent egg girls, there is no indication that Himari, Frill’s apparent first victim, struggled with any mental health or other issues that would motivate her to take her own life. Indeed, her ‘uncle’ did not even reject her confession. (Again anime, why you do this thing?) Instead, the eggheads explain Himari’s suicide as being on account of the “temptation of death.” What now?

This is implying that death is somehow attractive, not just to someone facing overwhelming brokenness, trauma or pain, like the egg girls we’ve met so far, but to someone on the verge of stepping from a (relatively) happy childhood into young adulthood, with the promise of potential love to look forward to; someone who has not known suffering, but rather only smiles and cake. (To be fair, it is always possible that she experienced trauma in the womb, or was more deeply affected by her father’s sadness than Ura-Acca’s memories belie.)

That’s my question too, Ai.

The notion of death as somehow attractive or even beautiful is rather alien to Western culture. Certainly, there will always be some who romanticize death, à la star-crossed lovers (Shakespeare, I’m looking at you). But in general, Western culture views death as something ugly and frightening, something to avoid until it is staring you directly in the face, and even then, closing your eyes in denial is a perfectly reasonable response. Death is one of those things we don’t talk about. In my experience, Anglo-American culture is not very good at even mourning death. We lack the grieving rituals and observances of other cultures, and instead seek to confine death to the sealed, sanitized spaces of hospitals, care homes, and funeral parlors. We keep it shrouded tightly in silence. How could there ever be anything like the “temptation of death”? How could we ever consider death to be something desirable? Are the eggheads or CloverWorks simply aestheticising suicide and death here to make it sound deep and philosophical?

No, I don’t think that’s it. Instead, Acca and Ura-Acca are doing what all good researchers do—and indeed what all Christians, as believers in an unseen spiritual reality, are also called to do: They are looking more deeply into phenomena that seem, on the surface, to already be explained. The two idol fans were consumed with their obsession, so when their idol killed herself, they followed suit. The young woman whose identity was wrapped up in her own appearance ended her life to preserve her beauty. The abused gymnast saw no way out, no hope in ever living free from torment. Some explanations may be more sympathetic than others, but they all possess their own internal logic. Contemporary society is full of a vast array of pressures and stresses and each one, taken to breaking point, can result in death. Case closed. This might very well be our conclusion from the first ten episodes.

Only the case isn’t closed. Because there is a question that has pervaded every episode until now, but has remained unspoken: How is it that death could even become an option for the egg girls? Why does reaching a breaking point trigger suicide? What made death seem like a savior to these girls? This is the question that episode 11 tackles, in its own admittedly obscure way. The eggheads are focused on the underlying, deeper reality that unites all the eggs’ stories, as disparate as they are—the common thread, which is the idea that death is a release, a rescue, a beautiful ending, and as a result, it is tempting.

“But we wondered if there could be another push that drove them to suicide,” explains Ura-Acca.

This is a really important question for us to be asking. Because it’s not just these traumatized, vulnerable girls who fall for the seduction of death. We do, too.

Just ponder for a moment: Have you ever anticipated how wonderful it will be when, in heaven, you no longer struggle with that particular temptation? When your temper is no longer so short, when you’re not afraid of being hurt anymore? Or maybe you think about how one day, on those gold-paved streets, you won’t have to worry anymore. All your hard work coping and just keeping it together will finally pay off and you’ll cross that finish line and heave a sigh of relief, knowing that you made it in the end. Have you ever contemplated these kinds of things? I know I have.

But here’s the thing: When I expect my liberation to come only after I die and not right here, right now, then it is not Jesus who is my savior, but death. I am waiting for death to free me from temptation and sin and fear and brokenness, and usher me into eternal life. I make Thanatos my god.

The temptation of death is not limited to the drastic act of suicide, but also permeates all the accusations and fears that inspire us to put off living the fullness of life in Christ here and now. It’s the temptation to believe that it is death that will ultimately solve the more difficult and painful problems in life.

Acca and Ura-Acca seek to create a love that suits their ideals, just to relieve their stress.

The source of this “temptation of death” in Wonder Egg Priority is Frill, the AI. That is, a man-made, artificial version of love—with ai meaning “love” in Japanese. According to Ura-Acca, they made her “just for fun,” as a way of dealing with the stress of their enclosed lives. They designed her to suit their preferences, to make it easier to love her and forget that she was artificial. In this sense, Frill is the fruit of their self-centeredness, her every characteristic designed to satisfy their own ideals of how a daughter and woman should be. And this artificial love born of selfishness brings death into their midst and beyond, spreading it through the horrendous deformities of girlhood that she in turn creates, in imitation of her fathers. (Only perhaps her creations are less deceptive than theirs, wearing their monstrosity plainly on the outside…)

Frill’s creations. We’ve met Dash (right) and Dot (center), but who is that on the left? And is her name Morse??

To counter her destructive influence, Acca and Ura-Acca need true love, a genuine love. They need Ai, a messy, at times very weak human being, but one who nevertheless is willing to fight to live up to her name and maybe, just maybe, become a warrior of Eros.

There is also a deep, underlying force at work in our world, one that connects all despair and the actions born of it. A wide range of social issues, traumas and mental health challenges can and do trigger suicide, but they do not explain it fully. The deeper reality is the existence of an enemy who seeks to manipulate us into believing our true savior can only be death, whether it is right away by our own hand, or more subtly, decades from now by natural causes. But this is a lie, and it is one that we can combat. Just as I’m sure we’ll see in the final episode that Ai is equipped to wage the coming battle in WEP, so too are we armed, here and now, with the power to overwhelm the enemy’s “temptation of death”—we possess already the words of life, given to us by our true savior.

Jesus began his ministry with a public announcement that he had come to heal heart wounds, comfort those in pain, fill broken lives with beauty, and wrap those in despair with reasons to praise like a warm protective blanket, so that they might celebrate with joy once again. He came to bring freedom to prisoners and captives alike, giving a fresh new life to those locked up because of deeds done wrong, and those punished and injured at the hands of others. He came to take the outcasts, the weak, the traumatized and broken and transform them into mighty oaks, clean and strong; into people with the vision and skill and compassion and fortitude to rebuild a broken world (Isaiah 61:1-4, Luke 4:18),

He came to rewrite and restore our experience of life here on earth, and through us, to redeem our communities, cities, nations, and the world. God does not withhold the fullness of life from us until we finally make it to him in heaven. No, instead he moved heaven and earth to get right up close so that he could pour his own life out into us, even going so far as to breathe his very spirit into our hearts and bodies and minds. We don’t need to wait for death’s rescue—our hero has already come. But we do need to remind each other and ourselves of this truth pretty often, and let it work down deep into all the cracks and bruises in our souls until it strengthens all our weak spots.

In Deuteronomy 30:19, God tells the Israelites that he has given them the authority to choose between life and death. But he also tips the balances in their favor, urging them to choose life. In Jesus, he comes to tip the balances even further, making it possible for us to step into eternal life here and now, immediately and forever. So let’s do it. Each day, through each struggle we face. Let’s choose life and not death.

Warrior of love? And is Ai’s himawari (sunflower) related to Himari somehow?

Join me (in spirit) for the final episode on Tuesday to see Ai’s love triumph! (At least, I really really hope that’s what happens!)

[mexcraziness-art]

Monkie Kid/JTTW OC: Liang Xingti

Okay, so this bio is going to be pretty messy, mostly because I’m really tired these days, but also because I’m still reading Journey to the West, and still waiting on the new seasons of the show. So I can’t go into details too deeply until I find out more, this is more of a general outline of what I have in mind for her so far!

Name: Liang Xingti (亮星体),Tong Bi Yuanhou (通臂猿猴) Nickname: Gab Gender: Female

Liang Xingti, also known as the Long/Magic Armed Gibbon or just „Gab”, much like Wukong, she’s one of the Four Spiritual Monkeys, see the one and only mention in Journey to the West:

„The third kind is the magic−armed gibbon that can catch the sun or moon, shrink mountains, see what is auspicious and what is not, and fool around with heaven and earth.”

History: Xingti was born from a cloud after a full solar-eclipse, as the circumstances of her birth concerned Heaven she was soon taken in by Taibai Jinxing, the Gold Star of Venus, as a discipline. She grew up in the Heavenly Court, and was trained in combat by Erlang Shen. Despite now being a Heavenly Warrior she was mostly running errands for Jinxing and the Jade Emperor. After Wukong showed up in Heaven she was really intrigued by him, as she never met a monkey like her before. She developed a strange mix of appreciation and irritation towards Wukong as time went on, and after he became the Great Sage Equaling Heaven the two of them became semi-friends, usually sparring together. Wukong also showed her a new perspective on life, and she began to internally question her life and role in the heavenly court. When Wukong rebelled against and rampaged through Heaven she tried to fight him as well, and meanwhile normally they were pretty evenly matched, she didn’t stand a chance, as her doubts held her back and Wukong’s rage filled War Form was simply way out of her league at the time. After the Buddha trapped Wukong under the mountain her doubts in Heaven increased, now with added guilt on top. After Heaven banished Sandy, and their treatment of Bai Long Ma, she finally had enough and tried to leave Heaven. She was warned by her master Jinxing that Heaven might take this as an act of rebellion, so she was forced to stay, but she took more and longer trips to Earth. When she heard Wukong was freed she occasionally visited him and his company of their Journey, though his situation left a bad taste in her mouth. After this she spent the next few hundred years doing the same, running errands for Heaven and fighting demons on their orders.

(The following is mostly relevant to the 4+1 Monkeys AU)

In the present day she was sent by Heaven to Earth to find Wukong and get help to investigate and try to capture Macaque for reasons the Jade Emperor didn’t share with her, this lead to her being suspicious about her mission from the start. When she went to Flower Fruit Mountain to get Wukong’s help, she ran into MK, and soon found out that Wukong trains him as his successor, which lead the two of them to having a fight, and Xingti leaving to capture Macaque alone. However she was followed by MK who offered to help her, which she accepted, endangering MK in the process. Of course Wukong showed up last minute and the two of them captured Macaque. Later Xingti revelaed she doesn’t want to turn Macaque over to Heaven until she finds out more about their motivations, so she decided to stay on Flower Fruit Mountain with Macaque as their prisoner until they find out more, which left Wukong less than impressed.

Personality: Having grown up in Heaven, Gab was a model discipline, she never questioned authority, or the orders she was given. She was trained to be level headed and controlled as Heaven was vary of her possible wild nature. After she met Wukong and started to question Heaven she slowly became more rebellious, second guessing her orders and asking too many questions. As she spent more and more time on Earth and away from Heaven, she developed a loud, brash and snarky personality, she has a crude sense of humor, and likes to mess with people for the fun of it. She’s playful but likes to see just how far she was push someone by annoying them before they get pissed off. However also having grown up in Heaven, she grew up pretty isolated, and making meaningful connections is pretty hard for her. She doesn’t handle rejection well, and gets quickly angered when she feels confused or conflicted about something, specially if it’s relationship related. She also uses this to hide her sensitivity, which she views as a weakness. She mostly tries to show the affection and fondness she has for someone by being an absolute pest in their lives, and hope for the best.

Powers and Abilities:

She has all the standard abilities of a Spiritual Monkey and a Heavenly Warrior, including: -Immortality -Super strength and super speed -Chi manipulation -Cloud Generation -Flight

Other Abilities: -36 Heavenly Transformations (much like Wukong, she can’t change her tail) -Cloud Clones -She can use the essence of the Sun and Moon for various spells and magical abilities, she can also cause full lunar and solar ecplises by forcing the sun and the moon to move in place, this gives her a full power boost however this is also one of the things that can kill her. -Size changing of objects: She can change the size of anything to any size at will. -Fortune Sense/Opportunity Sense: She can sense how favorable a situation/decision could be.

Weapon: Her staff, made out of a droplet of Sun and Moon, is her signature weapon. She usually keeps it in her belt on her back, in it’s basic Handle form. She can command it to grow into a staff, which is how she usually uses it in combat. And at it’s strongest, she can summon a Sun and Moon blades on each end, as it’s third form.

Relationships:

Sun Wukong: She has sort of a back-and-forth relationship with Wukong. She loves to annoy and pester him and constantly challenge him to sparring matches, as they’re one of the few people who actually pose a challenge to the other. She likes to get a rise out of him, to knock him down a peg from his high and mightiness. She also loves to constantly remind him of his embarassing events in Heaven. Generally she’s just a little shit towards Wukong, but in a friendly, familiar way. To Wukong she’s more of an unwelcome nuisance that he’d rather avoid, but at the end of the way they both hold a fondness for eachother, just locked away deep, deep down, due to their shared experience with Heaven, and really both of them would rather die than ever admit it out loud.

MK: Much like Wukong, she likes to bully MK in the friendly way. She constantly pesters and makes fun of him, sometimes even „showing him some fighting moves” just so she can knock him around a bit. She sees the potential in him, how powerful he could become, and how he’s better than any of them ever were. However this is also the reason she doen’t go easy on him. Despite all this she has a soft spot for MK, when she’s not messing with him, she’s always telling him cool stories of her and Wukong’s old days, that didn’t make it into the legends. She also always makes sure to tell the embarassing bits about Wukong.

Macaque: Her relationship with Macaque is… complicated and a massive WIP to put it simply, so this one will be super brief.

After they captured him, Xingti basically became his de facto prison warden. She constantly followed him around and just kept an eye on him in general. Because of this she soon became super intrigued by him, not only beause he was the second Spiritual Monkey she ever met, but mostly because she felt as if they were on a common wavelength. After Macaque’s initial escape attempts, and various arguments with Wukong, she set out to try to understand him and his past. As time passed and Macaque actually warmed up to them they grew pretty close. As it turns out they have a similiar sense of humor, and both of their favourite hobbies is making Wukong miserable, she quickly grew a soft spot for Macaque and before she even realised it she had all but developed a crush on him. Macaque had soon noticed the obvious changes in her behaviour, and as he had been faking his redemption this whole time, he decided to take advantage of her feelings for him. He played along and peretended to fancy her as well, they have even developed sort of a romantic relationship, (this whole thing of course didn’t leave Macaque as unaffected as he liked to believe) and things were actually pretty good, until Macaque saw an opportunity to betray them and make it hurt. This of course left Xingti more than emotionally devastated, and she swore to make Macaque pay herself. This is pretty much what I have in mind so far, I'm sure I left out a lot, I'll add them later when I remember them! And hopefully I'll draw a ref of my other OC, Mandy, the 4th Spiritual Monkey soon as well!

Art by @mexcraziness-art

Liang Xingti and 4+1 Monkeys AU belongs to @mexcraziness-art

Monkie Kid belongs to Lego

[gallickingun]

welded hearts || b.k.

SUMMARY: You and Bakugou have to try and pick up the pieces after the incident with Awase, but neither of you are doing a very good job. It leads to distance and lies, and you’re not sure if there’s any way to save the fragments that remain of your shattered relationship. Especially when you find out that Bakugou has been tracking your every move.

Follows the events of Ensnare, an Awase x Reader x Bakugou fic written by @lady-bakuhoe​.

PAIRING: Pro Hero!Bakugou x Fem!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, smut, slight violence, etc. WORD COUNT: 11.7k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

AUTHOR’S NOTE: after reading Jo’s fic, I immediately rushed to her inbox to foam at the mouth about what kind of angst would follow when Bakugou and Reader attempt to put back together what is left of their relationship, with Bakugou really not feeling like a man, and reader feeling absolutely suffocated, and this little fic was born. Also, this is my first time not tagging any blogs, I just need to start fresh. I hope everyone understands!

if you like this, feel free to request more HERE!

　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　

The strange combination of distance and suffocation make your head spin.

Nightmares plague your mind at night, leaving the opportunity for visions to run rampant through your sleep-deprived brain during the day. You spend the daylight hours looking over your shoulder, your forehead broken out into a constant sweat, and you spend the evenings wondering if you might have imagined the whole thing.

You wake up alone most of the time, no matter what phase of the night you are suffering through. The first few times you would go searching the house for him, wondering where his overactive body could have taken him this time. Most nights you found him at the kitchen table going over suit designs and contracts for more hero patrols and brand deals.

You’d ask him when he was coming back to bed only for those familiar vermilion eyes to pass you a blank stare and his dry voice to echo out, “Don’t worry about me. Go back to bed.”

And each night you’d listen.

You curl up beneath the covers, tugging the fabric to your chin, and stare at the wall. You attempt breathing exercises and grounding techniques, but that does not stop the shadowy figures you see in the hallway or the closet. Your imagination gets the better of you as it hallucinates the image of the culprit himself stood in your bathroom doorway, a smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

“So fucking pretty,” his mouth snarls around the words, dark hair shining despite the dark. His teeth are pearlescent even in the dim moonlight filtering through your window, “Whose going to stop me? You?”

A shudder shakes your shoulders and when you blink, he’s gone, like a phantom escaped in the night. You rip your hands through your hair and tears drip down from your lids into your lap, staining the fabric of your pajama pants. Your hands shake in front of you, fingertips showing double the harder you try to concentrate.

His presence is akin to smoke billowing within your belly. The tendrils of his black cloud wrap around your spine, traveling up your torso until it sits in the base of your throat, suffocating you endlessly. Every day you spend breathing is another day fighting for relief from this monstrous thing in your chest.

Bakugou turns to much different means of coping.

At first it was sweet – him checking in on you. He would offer to come pick you up from work if you’d ever decided to leave anytime after seven, and if he was stuck on patrol or in meetings, he’d arrange a car to bring you home. When you go on your afternoon runs, he’d volunteer to go with you even though he’d done rigorous amounts of training at work.

The simplest ways he would show his sense of pride in protecting you would be to hover closely, his body within an arm’s length so he could snag you out of any bad situation if there ever were one. Still, even with his insatiable hovering tendencies, he would keep his own personal touch at bay.

At times when he would usually hold your hand or brush up against you, he stays at least three feet away. It’s as if he’s chosen to self-quarantine himself from you, deeming your affections as either insufficient or insufferable, which neither are good options to choose from.

Once it becomes overwhelming, you find yourself in too deep, too bitter. You try to reach out to him in the form of affection – brushing your palm over his hips as you pass him in the kitchen, trying to grab his hand when you’re walking together, and reaching out to touch his shoulders when he faces away from you the few nights he does end up in bed.

To shout out now would be hypocritical, as you have had a part in pushing him further from you, isolating his affectionate touches even further. Yet, the longer he keeps himself from brushing even his clothed thigh against you when he passes you by in the kitchen or at the grocery store, you wonder who is actually suffering from the lack of physical affection and who is merely existing.

Eventually he grows more suffocating.

Bakugou will not let you be out of his sight for longer than a few minutes at a time despite sitting opposite from you on every surface he can find. You have started to hide in the bathroom, proclaiming cramps or bad pork before skittering off to the bathroom with your phone clutched in the grasp of your fingers, if only to find some peace from his prying eyes for a few moments at a time.

He has never been so clingy before, and you know that it is laced with the trauma as a result of the Awase situation. However, this doesn’t make it any easier to stomach his lurking. On the other hand, it adds a stinging sensation at the irony of it all.

Bakugou wants to be completely involved in every facet of your life without even kissing you good morning when he hands you your coffee.

You knew that what had happened with Awase all those weeks ago had to have affected him, coloring his outlook on life no matter how bleak it had been before. With each passing day he grows closer to you, hands metaphorically wrapped around your throat, squeezing every last pound of air from your tongue. But still, you never imagined that he would take t his far.

And so, you lie through your teeth.

Yaoyorozu was invited to the grand opening of a bar in the plaza sector of the city, and she invites you and the other girls for a night out. You know that if Bakugou heard about you going on about visiting a bar and intending to drink, he’d say some new form of the word ‘no’ and persuade you with his big, round, crimson eyes to stay home.

There were too many safety hazards, after all. Especially if you are going to be drinking. Your senses would be impaired, and you would be much easier to take advantage of once you are two shows into the wind. And then Bakugou would casually remind you that Momo normally finds a guy and ditches you, thus forcing you into taking a cab ride home, which creates an entirely new set of problems.

Which is why, when you tell him why you won’t be home tonight, you lie, “It’s just a sleepover, like back in high school! Momo and Ochako wanted to get back together and I think Mina might even be coming too!”

Bakugou nods, looking over the top of his combat training manual, “Just let me know if you need me to come pick you up, alright?”

You nod, not daring to reach forward and try to brush your hand against his forearm, afraid he might recoil or redirect you. Instead you force a smile, nodding your head as you open the door, “Momo is picking me up, and she said she’d be fine with driving me back tomorrow, but I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

His posture visibly relaxes at the sentiment. It is maddening how one simple shift of his composure makes you want to barrel into him, to forget your entire night and attempt to curl up with him on the couch. It has been so long since you last felt his touch, even in a casual sense. The bar counter top acts like a prison, barring him from you as he isolates himself.

“Have fun,” he manages, eyes falling away from you.

And you’re glad, too. At least when he’s not looking at you, he can’t read your face for lies. Bakugou is like a human lie detector, able to sense any unease in your usually relaxed posture.

Of course he has no reason to disbelieve you – why would you lie to him in the first place? You have preyed on that trust, a thing you feel so despicable for even considering, the fib scraping against your teeth like nails on a chalkboard. You wince at his tone, unbelievably naïve, but the door stays open regardless of your conviction.

The lie rolls around in your belly like a parasite, preying on the poor decisions and leeching on your inhibitions. You feel it suffocating your throat as you blow a kiss his direction, telling him not to wait up as you readjust your backpack full of overnight accessories and a change of clothes that is slung over your right shoulder.

Bakugou smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which only further feeds the parasitic being taken up a home in your stomach. It sits heavy on your tongue when you tell him goodnight, threatening to chew right through your cheek until it’s been bared to the whole world.

He nods, licking his lips as he watches you leave. You wave one last time as you shut the door, guilt eating you alive until you feel tears press against the backs of your eyelids. You swallow your conscience and head towards the car you recognize as Momo’s, the weight of your club clothes sitting heavy in your backpack. You cinch it closer to you, praying that Bakugou hasn’t somehow developed x-ray vision to be able to see through your bag.

And yet, a part of you wants him to come barreling down the stairwell to beg you to come back inside, back home. You want him to whisper your name like a prayer, his hands outstretched so you can reach forward to slot your knuckles between his.

At least in your hallucinations he still wants you.

--

Once you’re at the club bar, it doesn’t take long for you to find yourself in a drunken stupor.

“Listen,” you slur, pointing a finger into Momo’s ample chest, “I-I’m not sayin’ he’s gotta dick me down every night, b-but like-once?!”

You take a long drag of beer, swallowing the acidic liquid until it’s burning your throat. You slam your cup back down on the table top, pursing your lips as you take in a deep breath, “I mean it’s been months, guys. Months.”

“A-Are you serious?” Uraraka leans in closer to you, eyes widened, “N-Not since-”

“Nope,” you huff, slumping down in the booth seat. “I-I know that since the incident that things have been different, but it’s like he doesn’t even want me anymore.”

Momo reaches her arm around your shoulder, tucking you into her side, “I’m sure he just doesn’t know how to handle all of it, and he’s just trying to do his best.”

“Bakugou?” Mina laughs, bright eyes hidden behind her lids as she screws her face up into a giggle. She takes a sip of her beer, propping her feet on the nearest unoccupied table, and sighs, “Good luck with that one, babes. I don’t see things returning back to normal anytime soon, not with how damn stubborn he can be.”

The beginning of a fresh set of tears presses like a crater into the backs of your eyes, a pulsing headache drawing out a groan from your lips. You drop your forehead to the tabletop and relish at the cool surface opposing your heated flesh, “I-I know that normal isn’t exactly an option yet, but I would like to feel like I wasn’t so fucking alone in my own house, y’know? I mean, he’s right there and yet it’s like I’m there all by myself?”

Your phone buzzes from within your purse and there is a collective grouching that echoes from everyone at the table, sour expressions making it obvious the way they feel about your ringtone. Momo crosses her arms over her chest, “You do realize this is the seventeenth time he’s called you, right?”

You reach into your purse but her hand is on your wrist before you can snatch your phone. She shakes her head and Mina huffs through her nose, “Why can’t you just put that thing on silent? When is he going to stop bugging you?”

“Yeah?” Momo brushes her thumb against your forearm, “Didn’t you tell him you were coming out with us tonight?”

A bright red tinge sits hot on your cheeks, making your skin look flushed. Your friends understand your conflict then, sitting back from you in shame. Mina is the first to speak, “You lied?”

“I-well, I couldn’t just-” You rack your brain for the right words to say to defend yourself, sweat accumulating at the base of your back in droves. You want to run away, but there’s nowhere to go. If you head home now, Bakugou will most likely have a full rant ready for you as soon as you walk in the door.

“You can’t keep lying to him like this,” Momo presses her palm to your cheek, brushing away a tear before it can slip down your face, “You’re going to have to be honest with him eventually. He needs to back off, to let you live. There’s no reason he has to be attached to you like an umbilical cord all of the time.”

“His concern is kind of nice, though,” Jirou speaks up.

Your head snaps towards her and she shrugs, “All I’m saying is at least he’s trying to protect you. He’s not completely self-absorbed after all.”

Before you can try to refute her or defend him, your phone starts ringing once more. Your hand dives into your purse, pulling it from within and looking down at it like that might keep it from ringing any longer.

“I don’t understand!” You’re whining now, fresh saltine droplets settling in your lashes. You wipe at your face, “I-I don’t get why he won’t just leave me the hell alone. I told him exactly what I was doing tonight, exactly where I was going and who I was going to be with. I just-”

“Except you lied.”

You feel all of the heat leave your body, only frozen fingertips and an icy, rigid spine left behind.

You turn your head at the familiar baritone voice that cuts into you from behind, and your heart drops into your stomach. When you breathe, the parasitic thing living there begins to swallow your stomach whole, gnawing away at your most sensitive parts first.

You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to feel anger instead of shame, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What, pray tell, the fuck are you doing here?!” Bakugou snaps, eyes a conflagration of brassy tones, pupils dilated to prove his anger, as if it weren’t so evident from his tone.

Mina goes to speak up when she sees you flinch, but you’re already being dragged out from the safety of the booth seat. Bakugou’s blunt nails are digging into your bicep and forearm like little spears, snagging you so you can’t get away. He yanks you into the hallway, your back pressed into the wall as he further infringes on your space with his closeness.

“You fuckin’ lied to me?”

His voice is held together by rage, begging to be broken apart as he lets the feelings seep through the cracks of his resolve. Bakugou’s jaw quivers as he grinds his teeth together, heaving breaths making his chest expand to brush against your own. It’s the closest thing you’ve felt to intimacy since that night in the alley – since he decided to pretend that you and your needs didn’t exist.

You want to start bubbling out another fib, foaming at the mouth with lies so smooth he’d have to believe them. Your brain is stumbling in attempt to keep up with his fast paced thinking. Every phrase you could possibly say to make this go down like honey instead of vinegar passes through your mind, but you know that this will sting no matter how long you put off trying to swallow it.

The intentions you have now, to make everything easier on him and spare his emotions, have been tainted by your conniving words from before. You weren’t preparing for a confessional in the middle of this hole-in-the-wall bar, but not every night goes exactly how you plan it.

The both of you understand that sentiment rather intimately.

Bakugou’s eyes are ablaze, vermilion bleeding to amber nearest his pupils. His jawline is flexed, nostrils flaring, and you know that laced within his anger is something akin to fright, fearfulness. Every single feature he possesses is pinched tightly, as if his body were wound like a coil, and he is going to snap at any moment.

And then, when your mouth bobs open and shut, and you can’t find the right lie to squeeze between your teeth, you begin putting the whole situational puzzle back together. Anger replaces the acrid taste in your mouth, cinders of fury settling on your tongue the more it all starts to make sense.

Your eyes meet his and he feels the shift, his grip on your arm lessening at the sight of your furious irises honing in on him. The reality that he is not as innocent as you would like to believe seeps into your skin, settling like sticky acid, and you itch religiously to get it off of you.

“How did you know that I was here?” you ask, voice eerily calm as your vision begins to blur at the edges. You gnaw on your lower lip, tilting your head to consider every falter in his expression, “I told you I was going to be at Yaoyorozu’s. You had no idea that-”

You can’t help the choking sound that comes from your throat next, gagging on your words as pure fury overwhelms your body. Your shoulders shudder under the strain of these destructive emotions as realization settles in. Even the fear in his own irises cannot stop the tumultuous build of vehemence that seeps through you like molten lava, crawling upwards through your veins until all you can see is red – blinding red.

You’re repeating your question when it appears he won’t answer you to speak the truth; eyebrows furrowed, forehead wrinkled. Your jawline pulsates with muscle tremors as you grit your teeth down fervently, a high-pitched whining sound echoing within your own skull at the action, “What did you do, Katsuki?”

It’s not a question, though, not this time.

Bakugou’s throat bobs and before he can give you some shitty, half-thought out excuse, you’re poking your finger into his chest, directly between the taut line of his pectorals, “Where is it?”

“Wh-What?” he manages to cough out, tongue bitten between his teeth.

You take a step back with each question of the location, chin wobbling in denial, “My bag? My phone? My car? Did you put it in me, Katsuki?”

The sound of his given name dripping like toxic acid from your tongue makes his heart constrict within the confines of his chest. The organ beats at a thunderous pace, so hard that he’s sure there is an outlined bruise in the shape of it if you were to peel his shirt back and look. Still, he knows better than to argue with you – knows even better than to try and deny it. You are a human lie detector when it comes to him. You know his mannerisms so well that you’re able to spot a stuttering breath from a mile off, even the smallest of hints to his dastardly secret-keeping seeming like bright white lights to you.

He has backed himself into a corner in trying to keep you safe, so he admits with his head hung low, “Your phone.”

A shuddering breath makes your chest collapse, jaw fallen slack at the confession. Your spirit was praying that he might have just found out from a friend, maybe Kirishima discovered that you were out with Momo and Mina and told him. But no, now he’s admitted to the crime and he knows that he’ll have to face the punishment.

You want to root around in your purse until you’ve found the offending object, but it’s not the time, at least not right now. He can’t take advantage of using it while you’re both still in the same location. You’ll have to handle it later.

“How long?” you ask, voice small.

Bakugou does not answer immediately. His eyes are downcast, unable to meet yours as his lower lip quivers just enough for you to make it out in the dim light of the bar. Your heart thrums at the sight of him so distraught, but you lock your knees and force your body to straighten your spine and steel your resolve.

You repeat the question, digging your fingertip into his skin until you are sure that you’ve drawn blood underneath the fabric of his black tank top.

He snaps, the blood vessels in his neck thudding against the tanned skin there, “Since Awase, when the fuck else do you think?”

And just like that, your entire body is thrown back in time. You are that helpless woman in that alleyway, your body used for the lustful gratification of someone else, thrown to the side like a plaything when he was through. You feel hands, lips, skin, all over you, torturing your body even now when you are awake. The ghost of his crooked touch makes your eyes water, thick droplets sticking to your lashes.

The sound of that villain’s name makes your ears burn and your tongue turn to sandpaper. A chill runs down your spine despite the massive blanket of heat in the room from all the bodies burning with alcohol and movement. Your head feels fuzzy, eyes unable to focus as you attempt to come back to this version of reality.

A single tear drips down your cheek, but Bakugou knows better than to try and wipe it away like he might if it were any other time.

“I-I can’t believe this,” you murmur, withdrawing your finger from him to cover your mouth with both hands. You blink slowly, turning your gaze from him to the floor, taking it all in with stride, attempting to breathe as evenly as possible while still processing everything unfolding in front of you.

Bakugou reaches up to touch your elbow, just enough contact to try and bring you back down to earth. Your eyes snap upward, meeting his vermilion gaze with an expression opposing your fiery wit from earlier. He’s never seen your body waver in such a way that would leave him to believe you to be weak, but now all he wants is to hold you between his arms, piecing you back together bone-by-bone, vessel-by-vessel.

You’re lost in the simplistic touch of him, the first you’ve felt in what you know to be weeks, but believe to be eons. He has been so distant from you that you almost forget why you are angry when he’s this close to you, suffocating your body in the best of ways. You can smell the telltale sign of his quirk, an ashen sweetness that you are sure you’ve become addicted to throughout the entirety of your relationship.

A breath bites through your lungs and you sharply cut your teeth into the inside of your cheek, trying to snap yourself out of your dazed stupor brought on by isolation. As you open your eyes again, you steel yourself, stepping up with brazen confidence to slap away his hand from your arm.

The burning flames licking at your throat turn to white-hot rage, “I don’t know what the hell your problem is, Katsuki, but this controlling me shit has got to stop.”

His eyes refocus on yours again, pupils swallowing those pretty red globes whole, fear riddling every bone in his fragile body, “Wh-What are you talking about?”

Now it is you who has backed him into a corner, his backside and shoulder pushing against the wall. He tries to reach out to stop you, to beg for your forgiveness, but the stony expression in your irises tells him that he needs to be still an listen no matter how many biting insults and wanton words sit on his tongue.

“You’re breathing down my neck, Bakugou,” you inhale a shuddering breath at the sound of his surname being forced through your teeth. Tears lick at the corner of your eyes, your fists shaking by your sides, “I can’t take a shit without you wondering why I’m gone for longer than three minutes. You’ve been so fucking controlling that I can’t even go out with my friends without you needing to make it a momentous occasion!”

“You lied to me, for fucks sake!” Bakugou presses into you, snarling around his words. “You expect me to just forget that? What else have you been lying about?”

Your teeth clatter against one another, rattling around in your head, “I had to! You’ve been this glass case of emotion lately! And you won’t even let me walk home alone! I feel like I have a damn shadow everywhere I go!”

“I’m trying to-”

A thought hits you then, mulling you over so powerfully that you stumble backward, putting distance between the two of you. Your gaze falters from him to the wall, unable to look him in the eyes as you utter the next few syllables, “You don’t trust me?”

Bakugou is quick to refute you, stepping forward to take you out of your haze, “Hell no, baby! Of course, I trust you.”

“You put a goddamn tracker on my phone!” you snap, muscles quivering beneath your skin as your entire body tenses at the statement. Tears settle in your lids, dripping down over your cheek when you force him off of you. “What the hell am I supposed to think?”

He reaches out and wraps you up in his arms forcefully, despite your thrashing and shoving. You tear into him with your words and your touch, trying to punch him even though your range of motion is rather limited. Bakugou puts his chin on the top of your head, bottling you up like liquid rage, holding you together as you try to fall apart.

Bakugou has one hand against the back of your head, hands tucked into the tresses of your hair to cradle your head into the curve of his neck. His other palm rubs up and down the length of your arm as he tries to calm you down from your frenzied state, the loud music and pulsing bodies in the background of the bar doing little to deter your heightened temper.

You gulp as you feel his mouth bury into the crown of your head, kisses sprinkled into your hair like little flowers, petals of kind words tucked against your scalp. Bakugou wants to take you by the hand and drag you home, to curl up with you for the first time since that horrible night in the alleyway, and whisper promises into your skin until he goes hoarse.

You tilt your head upward, face shining bright with tears, nose bumping into his chin, “The-Then why do you-”

Katsuki nudges his nose over yours, a shuddering breath making his lip tremble against the bow of your mouth. A snarling growl rips his throat wide open as every feral, primal instinct buried deep within him is unleashed, “Are you really that dense, dumbass?”

The insult takes you by surprise, facial expression souring as you roll your tongue against your teeth, attempting to swallow the acidic retort sitting on the tip of the muscle in your mouth. Bakugou watches you with a careful eye, making sure that you aren’t going to speak up before he tries to rephrase himself.

“Listen, I just-I…” The words are caught in his throat, raking into his esophagus like shards of glass. Bakugou hates being vulnerable, especially with you. It makes him feel raw, torn open, and uncomfortable. He wants to be the pillar of strength you believe him to be, and how can he prove that he’s worthy of your trust when he feels so weak?

And yet, with you standing in front of him with expectant eyes and shaking hands, he finds it within himself to say what has been plaguing his mind for weeks.

“This shitstorm happened to me too, y’know?”

He sounds so heartbreakingly honest that it makes your skin prickle. A chill tightens like a coil around your spine, spreading shards of ice throughout your veins until your whole body is burning from the frigid feeling, fingertips numb.

Bakugou’s mouth bobs open and shut before he tears a hand through his hair, the other never leaving your body, frustrated at the fact that he can’t think of the right things to say. He looks up at the ceiling, a breath expanding his chest so he’s flush with you.

“Every fucking time I close my eyes, I see that shit all over again.” The veins in his body are prominent as he stresses himself out by trying to speak, “I see you, helpless, because I fucked up and lost focus. I-I couldn’t do anything and you needed me an-”

He can’t force the words out, can’t muster them up from the back of his throat no matter how many times he licks at the inside of his mouth, desperately searching his own skin for the answers. The reality of what might come to fruition when he says his truth out loud is too much to bear, no matter how much he knows he has to have this conversation with you. This is not something you both can just move on from, not without addressing it in all of its ugliness first. He wills the words to come out, closing his eyes and breathing deep. And even still, his mind will not cal.

Katsuki is a raging sea and you are the rickety lifeboat caught in his violent storm.

You swirl in his vortex for a moment longer before prodding him, hand pressed flat against his chest. You brush your thumb over his collarbone, “Katsuki, come on, talk to me. Please.”

Bakugou’s hand flinches by his side and you wonder if he wants to reach out to touch you with the pads of his fingers; to use you like an anchor, weighing him down in the right in the right way to bring him back to the current version of reality.

“I’m right here,” you whisper, pushing him further, knowing what he’s trying to tell you, but needing to hear it from his own tongue.

You step into his space and crowd him into the tight expanse of the hallway, and he can’t draw his eyes away from you despite the shame he feels from the tears currently clouding his vision. Every naysayer in his life comes to him in that very moment, telling him that he’s weak and spineless, completely useless if he can’t do the simplest of tasks. They scream at him, clawing at his heart until he’s bleeding out tears, hands shuddering in pain.

All he wants is to see you smiling again; a genuine, shining smile. He wants to watch as your eyes light up when he kisses you, or when he touches you here and there, casually in passing. Bakugou misses the old kindling the two of you had before that fateful night all those weeks ago. There was a familiarity that now feels lost in translation, wafting somewhere between the space separating the both of you.

You’re begging him in his ear now, words lodged like knives into his heart, a new syllable signifying a new blade, “Why are you doing this, Katsuki? Please, tell me!”

That is the last one – the proverbial blade that shoves its way through is spine to split him in two. He can’t help the way his voice shatters when he finally breaks, falling forward on weak knees, “To fucking protect you! Goddammit!”

You take a short step backward, shuffling away from him at his sudden furious outburst, the change in volume startling you. Goosebumps pebble on your skin and you feel a wave of anxiety wash over you, settling in your stomach to eat away at your resolve, that same parasite from earlier flaring up all over again. You swallow the pent-up emotion in your throat, but Bakugou isn’t finished, not yet. Now that he’s finally been ripped open, he can’t stop the flow.

“Every night you’d get further and further away from me,” his hands are flexing at his sides, knuckles turning white, little crackling explosions lighting like a warning sign, “And I can’t fucking get over this shit, okay?!”

The familiar ashen sweetness lingers in the air at the bare minimum usage of his quirk, but it’s comforting in a way. You breathe it in and try to stave off any tears from stemming down your cheeks. It is his turn to crumble, to fall down at your feet and beg for you to help him repair the gaping wound in his chest.

As you watch him fall apart, it’s physically painful to witness the way his body quivers, every muscle coiled and ready to spring into use. His lower lip, full and pink, is wobbling while he tries to form coherent sentences. You’ve never wanted to reach out and touch him more, to calm him with a tender brush of your knuckles over his cheek, or a hand flattened onto the plane of his chest. But he is too far away from you now, distant in the worst way.

It’s like he’s a figurative bomb, building up and ready to detonate. Each passing moment only fills him with more gunpowder, stuffing his throat until he’s suffocating under the notion that he can’t save you. Has he ever been capable of keeping you from harm?

“I-I was weak,” his voice breaks and so does his façade, tears brimming in the ducts of his reddened lids, “I let that fucker get the best of me, and i-it cost you. You were hurt because I couldn’t protect you.”

Bakugou’s palms shudder at his sides, fingers curling around smoke. You want to step forward, to reassure him that he is the furthest thing from weak that you have ever seen, but he cowers from you when you get too close. He reminds you of a caged animal finally set free, unsure of where to step, how to breathe all of the fresh air at once. Almost as if he is withholding himself from you now that his confession has broken through the bars around his heart, echoed loud for you to hear.

“Throwing yourself into danger isn’t going to help,” you answer him, “and neither is suffocating me.”

The fire fueling your bones from earlier returns at the realization that he has been distancing himself from you on purpose. You assumed it had been a subconscious decision based on the trauma experienced from the encounter with Awase, but you never would have guessed he was actively choosing to ignore you, especially physically. And now, with his hands shaking at his sides, you are beginning to wonder if he feels the same pull that you do, the desire to let your palms search one another’s skin to find the answers to your innermost questions.

“The only thing I’m any good at is fighting!” Bakugou falls back against the wall, eyes downcast in defeat as his shoulders slump forward. He opens his palms in front of his body, flexing his fingers. “All I can do is work as hard as I possibly can to be the best. I have to be the best.”

He curls his fingers back to fists, fury coursing through his veins like fire, accumulating in his palms to a head, a bomb settled in the cracks and crevices of his skin. “All I can focus on right now is getting stronger, to be a hero that you can trust to keep you safe.”

When his eyes snap up to meet yours, there’s a flame burning deep in his vermilion irises that makes them look alight, the bright amber color in contrast to their usual hue. It frightens you slightly, sending a tremor down your spine until you are curling your toes.

Bakugou’s hands creak as he turns them to fists, knuckles turning white, “I’ll be the best, even if it kills me.”

The very permanent word involving mortality turns your knees to jelly, bones grinding against one another in a desperate attempt to keep yourself upright. Your throat closes, emotion billowing like smoke in your esophagus until it is pushing into every available space, effectively choking you where you stand.

“Y-You don’t have to be so, so,” you struggle to find the words, breath hard to come by as you gasp for air, “so-”

“So what?!” Bakugou’s voice is patronizing now as he grows defensive at your tone, taking a downward turn to the other side of kind. He grits his teeth and you allow yourself to see him for what he truly is in this moment – a frightened child, begging for a savior, or at least some solid ground. He grimaces, shaking his head, “I couldn’t protect you when I needed to. And if I can’t keep you safe, what else am I good for?”

Silence hangs between the two of you at the heaviness of his words, creating an even further distance as his words settle like embers on your heart.

You want to brush the cinders away, blowing the ash into the wind and along with it, the horrific memories from the past few weeks. His name sits on the tip of your tongue, scratching at the muscle and begging to be freed from the cage of your teeth. Your fingertips ache at your sides, keening towards him with the desire to find something to feel, some tactile version of reality to reaffirm that you have not lost everything. The heaviness in your feet keeps you from shuffling forward, tucking yourself into his body and promising him that you’ll never see him as anything short of incredible.

“See?” Bakugou’s voice shatters into another wave of jagged pieces with every longing look you give him, tossing his arms in the air to show his defeat, “And then you go and do shit like this, where you look at me like I put the fuckin’ sun in the sky every morning.”

He’s wheezing the words out now, manic movements jerking his arms and shoulders, praying that his palms might go off in the middle of this club so you both can get booted out and forced to go home. Maybe then he can break through the barrier of how he has been feeling to show you why he’s treated you like a child.

“How the hell am I supposed to live up to this pillar of greatness you’ve made me out to be? This perfect image of me you have in your mind is a lie,” Bakugou is begging you for an answer with his gestures. His hands reach towards you, never touching, eyebrows cocked upward as his eyes search your face for a secret message hidden beneath your skin. “You think that I can do no wrong, that I’ll always be your hero. And now that I’ve fucked that up, and you still look at me the same exact way, how am I supposed to live with that? With being a fraud?”

Bakugou blinks and two identical tear droplets seep over the corners of his lids, tracking down his cheeks as he gasps for air, “I-I can’t help it when you look at me like I have all the answers when I-I can’t even fuckin’ figure out how I-”

You cover him like sunlight, warm and safe. He feels your mouth against his, your hands on his face and chest and its like you’ve pulled him from where he was floating midair back down to the ground again. Bakugou’s body is flush between your torso and the wall, either side of him pressed into something. He is hot, too hot, like his body temperature has skyrocketed. Sweat trickles down his spine, sticking his shirt to his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur as you part from him.

Your nose brushes against his, the bow of your lips still touching when you speak, “I haven’t been very considerate of you. I was too wrapped up in the way I was feeling that I didn’t stop to consider how it has been affecting you.”

You palm at his face, fingertips fawning over his cheek bones and brows and temples. Bakugou’s jaw is quivering, hands still dormant by his sides, flexed until his palms are splotched red with effort. You run your hand up from his chest to his shoulder, kneading the heel into his muscles to try and relax his body.

“Katsuki,” you call to him. “Look at me.”

And he listens.

The trail of your fingertips on his forearm feels like gasoline, trickling down his skin slowly but surely, making its way to his palms where his skin will act like a detonator. Bakugou grinds his teeth together as he tries to stay focused in on your face, the effort from it all makes the vein on his forehead protrude, thudding profusely beneath his skin.

“Take me home.”

--

The walk up the stairs to your door is tense, quiet.

Bakugou turns the key into the lock, the door opening with a gentle click. The two of you step inside, your bags strewn on the countertop and your shoes kicked off near the mat. Your hands wring in front of you as he faces away, the only visible thing being his backside.

“I don’t deserve you.”

The words take you by surprise, shaking you to your core. You stumble backward, hand clutched over your heart when it starts to sting, “Wh-Why do you think-”

“Do you know what it’s like to have people’s lives put into your hands, and then to fuck it all up?” Bakugou turns to look at you, hands glowing with the threat of his quirk, “To put the one person you care about more than fucking breathing into danger?”

His jaw quivers, “You didn’t see the look in your eyes when he was putting you through that shit. You were looking to me for help and I was fucking welded to a goddamn wall!”

You reach out to press your fingertip into the center of his palm, diffusing the built-up nitroglycerin in the crevices of his skin. Bakugou’s shoulders shudder, his eyes widening at your touch. You force a smile, but it does not reach your eyes, and he notices.

“Hey,” you call to him, your other hand drifting up to cup his cheek, trying to turn him towards you. “Stop that. Look at me.”

Bakugou’s eyes stop flitting around and focus on you, connecting your gazes. He looks frightened again, like a scared child. All you want is to hold him tight and put him back together again until he feels whole.

You push yourself up onto your toes, nudging your nose over his cheek slowly. You’re taken aback when you feel his hesitant touch dredge over your hip, thumb just beneath your top. It’s the most intimate feeling you’ve received from him in weeks, and it sends every atom of you on high alert. Your spine tingles as you stutter-step forward until you’re pressed into him.

Your breath hitches at his closeness, fanning out over him in a wave of heat that makes him shiver. You feel your heart ready to explode from within the confines of your chest, begging to be let free as it tries to claw its way out of your ribcage. You can’t look away from him, it’s like he’s turned into a magnet for your body.

As you graze over his chest with your other hand, the one against his cheek brushes up into his hair to card through the blonde strands. Your thumb catches against the stubble of his undercut just behind his pierced ears and it makes you smile, remembering the conversation where you coerced him into getting the new haircut in the first place. And now he can’t go a couple weeks without getting it shaped back up.

“Kiss me,” you plead, your touch like that of a siren, calling him deeper into the water, “please, Katsuki.”

In spite of him suffocating you mentally and situationally, you know that he’s been distant physically. It wasn’t hard to realize the shift in affections, especially since you’ve grown accustomed to his wayward glances and casual touches. Once he started to withdraw from you, you began to worry but your own anxiety wound so tightly around your body that it drowned out any other inhibitions that might have drawn you closer to asking questions. Bakugou has never been one to bare his emotions anyway.

Every morsel of him wants to dive headfirst into your waters, to drink you in through his nose and mouth until it is only the essence of you that remains. And yet there is something holding him back, like strings attached to his shoulders, forcing him to stay still.

It is that very look in your eyes right now that keeps him at bay. The reality that you’ve not tainted your view of him makes his stomach churn. You should hate him for letting Awase take advantage of you. You should want to slap him across the face and punch him in the gut. You should want to rip your fingers into his chest and slay him where he stands, cutting a gaping hole where his heart once was, filling it with a black ooze that might represent your disdain and disappointment.

Anything other than this overwhelming prideful look gleaming in your eyes that tells him he could do no wrong.

The sight of it brings tears to his eyes and he has to look away, the weight of it all too stifling as he attempts to breathe again. Bakugou struggles with oxygen, feeling lightheaded as you stand so near to him.

“Look at me,” you beg of him, your own voice sounding raw. You swallow every possible reticence you might have in this moment and focus all of your energy on him, “I love you, okay? There’s nothing you could do to change that, Katsuki. Nothing, so-”

You’re cut off mid-sentence by the familiar feel of his lips, warm and full against your mouth. He has captured you entirely, his hands on your face as he steps in closer to you. You shudder with tears at the sensation of him kissing you for the first time in weeks. A wash of warmth seeps through your body, starting at your head and curling around your spin until it has reached your toes. You feel lightheaded at it all, so wrapped up in him that you can’t focus on anything else.

Bakugou’s arms wrap around your shoulders, his body squatted in front of you to push himself closer into every crevice of available skin. You dip your hands beneath his top, the pads of your fingers mapping out the contours of his muscular frame.

“Fuck,” he murmurs between your teeth, your tongue catching the word by lapping against his gums.

His hands find your backside, squeezing the supple skin like his life depends on it. You moan, rolling your hips forward. Your mind is foggy, your entire being in a haze, at the passionate way his hands obsess over your body.

When he taps your hips with his thumbs, you know what it means. You leap upward, his forearms catching your thighs to wrap you around his waistline. You don’t break away from kissing him. You’re not sure after this if he might retreat back into himself, so you full well intend on milking him for all that he’s worth in every aspect of the word.

The next thing you feel is the cool sheets beneath your steaming backside, sweat making your shirt cling to your body. Your hand sifts through Bakugou’s hair and he nips at your lower lip, relishing in the way the moans fall freely from your tongue.

He sits back on his thighs, tugging his shirt over his head, when he mumbles, “Shirt. Off. Now.”

The momentary burst of authority makes your cunt clench beneath the lace of your underwear. Your eyes go wide, but you do not hesitate to pull the offending fabric from your upper half. Bakugou has settled between your thighs when you can finally see him again. He makes quick work of your bra, flinging the garment across the room carelessly before swooping in to begin sucking at your chest.

He tweaks one piqued nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the other side of you preoccupied with his mouth. You whine, bucking your hips upward. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans, you can make out the impression of his bulging erection. The thought of getting to feel his dick again makes you keen, reaching up to thread your hand into his hair, the other palm digging fingernails into the thick, corded muscle of his shoulders.

“Damn, Princess,” he murmurs as he releases your nipple with a pop. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your breath shudders out of your lungs, fanning over his hair to make the strands shake in the darkness of your bedroom. You wrap your legs around his midsection to try and grind yourself up into his clothed length.

Bakugou slips his hand beneath your shorts, unbuttoning them swiftly as his middle finger finds your clit immediately. You can’t help it when your whole body goes rigid, the once lost sensation of his hands on your lower half returning in a blinding wave of white-hot pleasure.

“Please, Katsuki,” you force yourself to look him in the eyes even though you think you’re seeing stars, “I just want you, please. I want you in me.”

He’s hesitant when he looks down at you, eyes stuttering over which of your features to focus on first. The tip of his middle finger is brushed up against your slick folds, not delving in just yet. Your chest is heaving, eyes clouded with the threat of tears while you palm at him, desperate for every inch of his skin to be mapped out beneath your fingerprints.

“You have me,” he whispers, cracking voice barely audible. He nods, slipping his finger slowly between the walls of your cunt, “You have me, baby.”

As he starts to coil his finger within you, the squelching sound of his digit and your pussy echoing off the walls, he looks you directly in the eyes. His free hand is near your head but you wish he’d touch you with it, your body insatiably itching for his next pass. You lick your lips and go to beg for him again, unwilling to sit through the torture of his fingers, but he stops you with a kiss.

“Let me do this, let me make you feel good.”

You are speechless, left only with a gaping mouth that is claimed by his tongue. He licks at your teeth and cheeks, whining for you to reciprocate while his finger still pumps in and out of you, knuckle dragging in a tantalizing way against your smooth walls. You hold him as tightly as you can by the neck, keeping him anchored to you, the fear of him running away from you again settling like a lead anchor in your belly.

It doesn’t take long for him to push you to the edge of your first orgasm. You’ve been denied of him for so long that you’re sure you could come undone under any circumstance at this point. But still, his thick digits curled up in the heat of you, coaxing forth the first white-hot wave of pleasure makes your body shudder.

“Katsuki,” you pant, rolling your hips in time with his finger’s thrusts.

The coil within your stomach starts to bunch up, so you clench around his finger. You whine, throwing your head back, jaw hung slack. Bakugou kisses up the column of your neck, “C’mon, baby, I know you can do it for me, yeah? You’re so pretty when you come apart.”

His encouragement is what throws you over the edge. You’ve missed the sound of his timbre coaching you into orgasm after orgasm. You cry out, your voice breaking, and your hips fall slack against the mattress as the pleasure digs into you. The silvery strands of your slick coat his fingers, but he doesn’t part from you until he’s sure that he’s lured every last whimper from your lips, every last wash of arousal from your hips.

You have him by the neck, digging your fingers in to pull him back towards your mouth for another drawn out kiss. Your nose and teeth clash, but it doesn’t matter because he’s here and he’s got his hands on you. The way your body sings at his caress does not go unnoticed by him, or rather he relishes in it, basking in the sound of your wanton moans and the reaction of your begging limbs.

“Please, Katsuki,” you’re grabbing for him as he pulls away. Your fingers desperately cling to his skin, digging in and forcing half-moon prints into the tanned flesh, “I need you, please.”

The words throw him back to those moments in the alleyway when your eyes screamed the phrase you’re speaking now. He was powerless to help you then, but he can be the one to save you now.

Bakugou stands to his feet and shuffles out of his pants, his cock throbbing between his thighs when he pulls away his briefs. You try to tug down your shorts but your body is so weak and you can’t force your brain to communicate with your extremities, so you end up pouting, hot tears clouding your eyes in frustration.

“Hey,” he nudges his nose over your cheek before kissing you long enough for you to forget about your predicament. Your body molds to his intentions, hands finding his undercut to sift through the short hair there, his skin providing you with some sense of calm despite the raging emotions thudding like thunder in your brain.

He gently tugs down your shorts, peeling them from your ankles before depositing them on the floor. Bakugou runs his hand down his cock, using his bead of pre-come and what remains of your arousal on his hand to lubricate the skin. You’re salivating at the sight of him, inflamed red cockhead ready to split your cunt wide open. You’ve missed the familiarity of him inside of you, and your body notices because despite just having a spectacular orgasm that should have put you to bed for some time, your pussy flutters as a new wave of slick trickles down to the sheets.

The tip of his cock opens your pussy up enough that you’re keening forward, pleading to take more of him with the canting of your hips. You whimper out beseeching words, eyes searching his face as your hands try to find purchase on his shoulders. He shakes his head, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “Hush, baby. I promise I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

The duality of his words is not lost on you.

Your jaw hangs open slightly, eyes wide as you look up at him. Bakugou grips the headboard with one hand, the other guiding his cock into your heat. If you look close enough, you can see the threat of glassy tears washing over his pretty red irises, making them look like little jewels in the moonlight filtering through your bedroom windows.

“Katsuki,” you whimper his name like a prayer as he slowly sheaths himself between your folds. He grunts when the base of his cock meets the lips of your pussy, eyelids fluttering somewhere between open and shut at the sensation.

He drops his head, gritting his teeth, “Fuck, I missed you.”

A relieved, broken laugh shakes your throat, the smile left behind making Bakugou see stars. You palm at his chest, “I missed you too, so much.”

The two of you have still been together every day, even sleeping in the same bed, and yet you’ve been so distant it was heartbreaking. You feel the shards of your shattered heart slowly piecing back together with each thrust he throttles into you, his hips slamming into your thighs.

It’s intense, but somehow graceful. Bakugou is not just ramming his cock into you for the sake of doing it, but he’s proving to you with every stroke of him that he’s never leaving your side again. He’s gripping the headboard so hard that his nails are leaving scratches, but you’re more focused with the tantalizing snap of his hips, the drag of his cock and those prominent veins as they stimulate your pussy even further.

His jaw quivers, hands white knuckling as he clutches the headboard even harder, picking up his pace to start building that starburst in your belly. He’s unwilling to let his hands go near you now that he’s got himself sheathed completely.

He doesn’t deserve every part of you, not yet.

Bakugou’s chest twists as he realizes he hasn’t earned his honor back; he hasn’t won the prize of feeling your skin under the sensitive pads of his fingertips while he’s fucking into you with his aching cock.

His breath stutters, heart clenching within the confine of his ribs, at the sight of you, your irises focused on only him. Your pupils are blown wider with each thrust, black swallowing the color of your irises as you reach that peak subservient headspace. His hips move slow but with purpose, his cock pulsing within your walls as you clamp down on him.

Snapping his hips up into you, the heat of it all starts to overwhelm him and he can’t breathe. The mix of your warm skin and the absolute adoration held for him in your eyes is too stimulating once you tighten your cunt around him, trapping his dick in your heat.

“Fuck, baby,” he whimpers, stilling his hips as his nails screech against the headboard.

Your hands are on him in an instance, exploring his chest and shoulders. You lick your lips and force your ass to stay put on the bed, breathing heavy through your lips. You swallow and your throat bobs, only proving further to him how absolutely enamored with him you appear to be.

“Katsuki,” you whisper into the void, cheeks warming with a blush.

Bakugou shakes his head and with the ferocity that he’s gripping the headboard, he wonders if your nailbeds can bleed. He bites down harshly on his lower lip, listening to your pleading calls for a moment too long before responding, “I-I don’t-”

He can’t form coherent sentences, not when he’s buried to the hilt inside of you and you’re gazing up at him like he’s just gotten back from hanging the moon. He squints hard, eyes filling up with tears, “I can’t, fuck.”

“Hey,” your breathless voice catches him in midair, anchoring him back from the dull hallucination that he could never find his way back to you. You reach up to gently press your palm onto his cheek, the cooling touch of your hands doing enough to dispel some of the heat on his cheeks. You push away the sweaty locks of blonde hair sticking to his forehead so you can see his eyes in their full clarity.

Katsuki’s chin wobbles as he looks down at you, forcing his eyes to stay trained in on your face no matter how much he wants to look away. He still doesn’t believe he deserves that look you hold for him within your gaze; the way you tell him that he’s nothing short of a pillar of strength in your mind with a simple look is absolutely baffling.

“Hey,” you call again, tender tone striking a chord in his heart.

Your thumb brushes underneath his eyes, the height of his cheekbones, and you smile at his fragility. Bakugou’s eyes flit around to everything but you, overactive and unable to focus on you when you’re looking at him like he’s painted the stars in the night sky.

His conscience berates him as he lays with his cock buried deep into your pussy, his hips flush with yours, the doubt kicking him in the ribs to remind him that he must be nothing short of a piece of shit – how could he let you fall into someone else’s hands? How could he be so careless? How could he-

“Katsuki,” you rub your hands over his face once more, patiently pulling him from the recesses of his toiling mind, “Come back to me.”

Bakugou’s pupils dilate but somehow you manage to bring his attention back around to your face, connecting your gazes once more. You are struggling to maintain your composure between his cock pulsing within you and the lack of his hands on your skin, your body stimulated but still wanting, but you whimper the words, “Will you kiss me?”

In that simple sentence, Bakugou realizes that he could never truly run from you.

Tears drip down from his cheeks onto your neck, pooling at the little cavity created by your collarbones. You smile up at him, brushing at the droplets as they drip down from his eyelids, cradling his face as he makes the decision to start running back to you instead of sprinting away.

“I love you,” he chokes out the words before claiming your lips with his searing hot kiss.

Your hands dip into the curves of his hips, prodding him to move forward while your lips sink deeper into his. Bakugou groans at the sensation, eyes rolling behind his closed lids, and slowly his palms find your body.

It’s almost like the first time he touched you, his fingertips searching every inch of available skin as if it were new to him. He rolls his thumbs over your ribs, counting each one under his breath as he fucks into you slowly. You whimper when he bites your lower lip, your jaw slack as he starts a biting path of kisses down from your chin to your earlobe.

“Katsuki,” your toes curl when he bottoms out within you, the tip of his cock brushing that delicate, spongy spot at the back of your core. Your nails drag salaciously down his shoulders, drawing little beads of blood in their wake.

“Fuck,” he groans, biting down harshly on your neck. He chokes on a sob before licking and kissing your collarbones, “I love you.”

Bakugou is fucking into you steadily now, his hips slamming into you at just the right angle that the vein running along the underside of his dick drags against your folds. You clamp down on his cock when you feel it begin to twitch again, his cockhead brushing your cervix. He’s sniffling, breath catching at the sound, “I love you so goddamn much. I don’t fucking deserve you.”

He’s overcome with emotion but it only spurs him forward faster. His hips slam mercilessly into you, every rut telling you what he cannot coherently say with words. And you accept his wordless confessions with the tightness of your core, the openness of your eyes.

You respond in fervor, your lips singing his praises as you feel the beginnings of another orgasm curling into a hot fire in the pit of you. It’s like lava has dripped down every vein in your body, lighting your skin on fire with its proverbial heat. You whine, your back arching in the perfect way for his mouth to latch onto your pert nipple.

“Katsu’, please, fill me up,” you whimper, palming at his injured back, finding scars and wounds alike, “I want your come, won’t you come in me?”

He’s nodding around your nipple, affirming you non-verbally, but the gentle tug of his teeth makes you whine again. You are completely distraught with the pounding of his cock into your tight, wet heat, the obscene sounds reverberating off of the walls only to bounce back at you like an echo.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he grunts, hot tears mixing with the saliva that covers your breast, “such a good girl for me. Takin’ me so well. Gonna take this load?”

You can’t help the way you nod ferociously, pleading with him through both words and actions. You whine, a shuddering of your throat making the sound much more desperate than you intended, “Please, Katsuki. I just want you to stuff me full, I want to be full of you.”

The last time your cunt was full, it was with another man’s seed.

Thinking about it makes your tongue turn heavy and your stomach sour. You grit your teeth and the scent of ashen sweetness fills your nostrils, taking over every thought you’d had previously. You can’t linger your memories on the way something made you feel before, you will destroy your mind and your pride.

All you can focus on is scrubbing yourself clean with Katsuki.

He washes over you like a soothing balm, the heat of his body burning away any trace of anything else from any time before this moment now. Every one of your senses are overwhelmed by him – his body, his breath, his scent. You want to drown in him, only fulfilled through his means for the rest of your days, to dive headfirst into his pain and break through until it is only the two of you left.

You lick at him, the familiar taste of his skin settling on your tongue as you lap over flesh and bone. You beg for his hands to touch every inch of you with wanton moans falling from your lips, scrubbing away at the nightmares and replacing them with the fiery blonde with a quipping tongue to match his superpower. If you thought you might could handle it, you’d ask him to blast you with his quirk, to burn away what is left from before until there is only the now.

“I love you,” you whisper into the dark, “It’s only you, Katsuki. Always.”

Bakugou’s mouth is licking at your neck when you feel his hips still, the telltale sign of his release begging to be set free. You palm at his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes because you can’t hold it in anymore, the words making your chest swell until you think you might burst wide open, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He thrusts forward in time with your chanting, his lower lip quivering with desire as he pumps himself forward at a much faster pace. One of his thumbs reaches down to brush against your clit, stimulating you until you can’t speak in full sentences, let alone syllables. You grit your teeth together and beg for his load, “Fill me up, Katsuki.”

Your words mixed with the tone of your voice are what push him over the edge, the cusp of his release washing over the both of you. Bakugou’s hips stutter, sloppily fucking into you as he chases that blinding pleasure only you can provide him.

“Take it, Princess,” he murmurs into your lips as he claims you by painting your walls white, the final part of you that needed to be wiped clean.

Katsuki’s hands rest on either side of your head as he holds up his quivering body, spent from effort and emotion. You brush your thumb over the tear-stained parts of his face, clearing his skin of what remains from his vulnerable confessions, no evidence left behind. He can start anew, pretend that he never bared his soul to you only mere moments ago.

His eyes never leave you, drinking you in religiously as you blink slowly, irises soaking up every inch of your precious expression. Your pupils shrink enough for him to see the color of your irises clearly, tilting one of his hands upward so he can brush his thumb over the curve of your jaw. Your lids flutter closed at the tender sensation, losing yourself in the feel of his fingerprints.

When you blink your eyes open, you reach upward to tenderly cup his cheeks between the palms of your hands, “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah?” he leans his head into your hand, nudging his nose over the swell of the heel. Your pulse thuds in his ears and he can tell that you’re nervous based on the pace.

Your voice is thick when you whisper the words that have always rang true in your heart, but you’ve never said aloud because they seemed so pointless. He hears them every day from citizens, begging him for autographs and screaming his name when they see him on patrol. You’ve been afraid that they would fall hollow on deaf ears, futile and empty. But your heart squeezes within your chest and you know that it doesn’t matter anymore. The two of you have learned how precious a few moments can be.

“You’re my hero, Katsuki.”

Your thumbs run back and forth over the skin of his cheeks, seeking out the heat and also providing him what you hope feels like comfort. His cock twitches within the walls of your aching cunt, mouth hung open slightly, just enough for you to see the pink of his tongue.

You nod, sniffling as tears press hot into the back of your eyelids, “You’ve always been my hero, no matter what. Nothing will change that.”

Bakugou kisses the inside of your palm before leaning forward to press his lips to yours. This kiss is slow, deliberate, as if he’s trying to communicate something between the volley of your tongues. You lean up and wrap your arm around his neck when he snakes his hands up the expanse of your back. He’s fully pressed into you now, your bodies flush with one another as he kisses you.

Secret words are passed back and forth from your throat to his, emotion swelling in your chest, begging to burst the longer he’s pressed into you. You curl your hand into his hair, anchoring him to you despite the growing heat billowing in the lack of space between your bodies. Bakugou licks at the seam of your lips and you let him in, you’ll always let him in, your hips rolling forward to meet him at every juncture of your bones.

And that’s how you fall asleep that night, entwined in such a way that neither of you can tell where one of you ends and the other begins.

　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed it! drop me an ask if you did!! 

[land-of-classpects-and-analysis]

Witch of Hope

Faith is something that is often a rather personal thing to exist - along with things such as morals, beliefs, imagination, and almost anything else tied in with the Aspect of Hope. All these different branches and roots splintering off from the same tree; a tree that has been around since conscious thought and advanced thinking started. Although many people can agree that there is some form of tree within everyone’s minds, what that tree looks like is something often largely debated about. Much like the great wooden giants of nature themselves, the general name may be that of Tree, but it is merely an umbrella in which all of the different types huddled beneath. A tree is merely another tree unless studied, given another name, another label to differentiate from the others. As such, although it is known as the Hope Aspect, there are just as many different types of Hope within those blessed by such a powerful and, when pushed to its limits, ruthless Aspect. A tree is a tree just as much as Hope is still Hope - no matter how big or small it is, the way it looks on the inside or the outside, nor where it dwells in the world.

Much like a forest, when one finds themself in the presence of such a staggeringly large force, or perhaps even entity, there will be those who find comfort and peace in the shadowed, dancing figures. However, for others, they will become overwhelmed, intimidated, and maybe even fearful of such a thing. Oftentimes, in instances of this fear and/or hatred towards Hope is when its far more anarchist - Rage - is born. When that Rage comes ever closer to such a lavish display of Hope, built upon years and years of faith and rules and traditions, there will always come a time where the cycle must come to an end for a new one to begin. Although Rage will burn as hot as Hell itself, tearing apart and reducing all the Hope that there is to ash, it will be those who are still truly faithful that will continue to thrive and regrow in this new soil. Hope is one of the most resilient Aspects, yet also the frailest. However, do not be mistaken in thinking that all instances of Hope can be torn down in one way and one way only. One forest of Hope may be far more easily ignited than another, while a different forest could be more susceptible to be mowed down with teeth of iron and claws of steel. It all merely depends on how that Hope grows and takes its form. Hope is an Aspect that can show its true beauty when left untouched, undisturbed, or at least treated with kindness and respect - much like the people who hold this Aspect close to their spirits and hearts.

However, who is to say that everyone with this Aspect are good, kind-hearted individuals? Who is to say that those with this Aspect have never thought of its flaws, its drawbacks, its restrictions and false promises? Who is to say all instances of Hope are just and fair? The Aspects of Hope and Rage are two of the Aspects that may stick out the most to some people - understandably so, of course. They are the ones who have the most understandable clashing and inherit rivalry between them - at least falling into the category of stark contrarianism between the two of them. After all, Hope is the Aspect of faith, rules, order, imagination, and belief; all the while Rage is what represents anarchy, revolution, rebellion, confusion, doubts, and so countless more. They compliment each other just as much as they despise one another - neither one being able to exist without the other standing across the chasm that so often separates them. Yet all of this is to ultimately say that neither of these Aspects are entirely how they appear. What has been described of them is merely the basis - the concept - of their very existence. What truly defines an Aspect is the Class it has so graciously latched itself onto. Granted, any of the Aspects can be turned and twisted into whatever best fits the Class in which someone inherits, but it is this one Class matched with the Aspect of Hope that gives a person who can become a wonderful ally, or a person’s worst nightmare.

It is the Witch of Hope who is so full and blossoming with their very own Hope - whether it is their wild, untamed imagination, or an unrelenting rigid faith or belief. Oftentimes a Witch of Hope is aware of their Aspect and how it affects them and their life, as do their countless other fellow Witches with their very own Aspects. Yet there is one crucial difference between the Witch of Hope and some of the other Witches; the Witch of Hope, much like the ivy creeping and crawling up the walls of an ancient, abandoned church, is one who much prefers to bide their time when it comes to their manipulation and how they go about warping their Aspect. They play the waiting game, preferring to stand on the side-lines of whatever group they may find themself to be within until, finally, a member of that group shows themself to be weaker than the others. The Witch of Hope will often present themself to be a type of leader, someone meant to herd and gather everyone together so as to bring them all towards the same goal; the same endgame.

However, this leadership they offer is far more akin to that of a Blood-bound, as they will talk about how everyone is equal - or at least should be - when it comes to who has how much power within the group. Although some Witches of Hope do this with good intentions in their hearts, there will often be just as many who only see foolish, lost sheep waiting to be tossed and wrangled around by their necks and horns. Depending on the Witch of Hope, it can be difficult to tell if they are like that of a gentle, shallow babbling brook, who offers comfort and guidance towards true inner peace in one’s personal beliefs, or if they are merely looking to bring only chaos and unrest into the lives of those around them, wanting to infect and hook their claws into the minds and faith of those they deem to be the weakest, most influential links in the group as the two variations can often overlap, both in attitude and execution of their plans.

However, that is getting quite ahead of ourselves. Let’s reel things back and shift the focus over to the Witch of Hope as an individual - removing all the nuisances of social life and the trickery the Witch often has in store of it. Much like any other Witch, the Witch of Hope is one who presents themself to be a kind, loving person. With the additional influence of their Aspect, so comes the fact that their bubbly attitude is often knitted together with acting as a type of harmony-bringer. Wherever the Witch of Hope is, they are often one who rarely shows any signs of fear, suspicion, mistrust, or even frustration, nor do they show any desire to partake in such a thing whenever it does arise. They are someone who far more prefers to look towards the brighter things of life, the beauties that are in our everyday lives, oftentimes dipping into the Romantic genre of literature if they are one to read. Even when conflict and Rage are spitting and hissing in the face of the Witch of Hope, they will often merely smile at whoever or whatever is causing such a ruckus before continuing on with their life. Chances are that if one were to approach a Witch of Hope about this, asking why they are seemingly unbothered by everything happening in the world around them, the Witch may reply with someone along the lines of one thing: it is all part of a story already written for them, and everyone else. Whatever is wrong in the world is merely another chapter in this never-ending book, and, much like any other chapter before, this, too, shall eventually come to an end.

Which is to say the Witch of Hope will often chalk everything that happens up to some being, some force, that is out of their own and everyone else’s hands. Whether the Witch means to or not, this is one of the many instances in which a Witch may attempt to simply use their words to get what they want - what reaction they want. On that same note, for some Witches of Hope, saying such things will often be far more subtle moments of manipulating their Aspect - moreover, the Hope of another person. After all, if someone is struggling with one or multiple hardship(s) in life, then who better to try and quell such anxieties of one’s fate than the Witch of Hope themself? As much venom the Witch of Hope holds in them, so, too, do they hold as much wisdom and kindness in their heart to sit down with someone and attempt to bring harmony to one’s own strife - even if it means twisting their very own Hope that affects how they view the world. It is uncertain as to whether this act of manipulation is one out of good intention, or if there are other motives factoring into it. Much like many other things when it comes to truly any Classpect, it merely is another personal factor that changes from one person to the next.

There will be the Witches of Hope who wish to use their Aspect for good - truly being the bringers and keepers of harmony amongst a group, even if it means having to play dirty with one or a few tricks and twists of manipulation. Yet so often there will be other Witches of Hope who wish to do the exact opposite, wherein they will mangle and bend and break their Aspect into something it isn’t - something it never should have become. When the leaves upon a tree turn into those stunning shades of reds, oranges, yellows and more - it can often be hard to discern what is merely a tree changing its colors, and what is a fire consuming the leaves and tree they inhabit. Due to the naturally off-putting nature of Witches, what with their oftentimes obvious facades, the Witch of Hope is one who is, unfortunately, quite used to and accustomed to the ways of isolation and loneliness in this world. One might think the Witch of Hope to be an exception to the stigma so often associated with this Class, but that is solemnly, and rarely ever the case. If anything, it could be argued that a Witch of Hope is far more at risk of being put under scrutiny, rejection, and perhaps even hatred for who they even are. The people who belittle and harm the Witch of Hope will often do so out of fear - the fear that the Witch will come and taint their minds, poison their young with these ideas, spread false and dangerous ideals of a world that relate to the Witch’s very own personal experience with hope. It is not an easy life for the Witch of Hope, but it is ultimately their own beliefs that will keep them floating above the water.

By having experienced this great solitude and judgment for who they are, what they believe in, where their mind wanders, and just how they express their Hope, the Witch of Hope is one often prone to having great moments of internal conflict. Countless nights of sleep lost to their ever screaming thoughts. Repeated phrases of scorn and hatred that have been so unfairly hurled at them mixed in with gentle affirmations and reminders that they have not hurt anyone - they have not brought upon any loss of life, never scratched others with their long branches, never tripped someone over their centuries-old roots. They’ve never hurt anyone with what they believe in nor with the words they have preached to others. There is no harm that comes with Hope, no harm that comes with spreading its good word to those who will listen. Isn’t that correct? Isn’t that what the Witch has been told for their entire life? To hold great pride in your faith, to never allow their imagination to die out - never color with the proper colors or even within the lines? Is that not what they have been following and doing by holding their faith - their Aspect - close to them all of these years? Some nights, the Witch of Hope does not know. Some nights, the Witch of Hope does not want to know.

Who is to say, though, that the Witch of Hope is one who has been unfairly judged and shunned away from other groups of people? As much as the Witch may insist that they have never harmed the smallest hair upon a person’s head, or even entire body, there may be those who the Witch has harmed in other fashions - whether they wish to admit to it, are even aware of such harm, or not. The Witch of Hope may pride themself on being a mediator, a leader, the judge, the jury, but never the executioner, or what have you. They are a person who sees themself as a victim; always the victim, and rarely ever being even remotely capable of committing harm to those around them. Even if someone they have hurt in some fashion were to come up to their face and scream, cry, beg for an answer as to why - why did the Witch do what they did to them - the Witch of Hope would do what they know to do best: deny. As long as their toes are pointed and their movements are swift, elegant, and calculated, the Witch of Hope will often be able to dance around and away from anything that may threaten to tamper with their image of purity and sainthood. However, not all Witches of Hope do this with ill intent - it is only the vast majority that often find themselves almost near-constantly in the role of damsel in distress, fully incapable of protecting themself and always the victim in whatever situation they find themself within. For some Witches of Hope, this is once again one of the many ways of subtle manipulation that they are known to be prone to partake in.

Manipulating another person’s concept of Hope - of justice and morals, what is right from wrong, black and white, so on and so forth. After all, to have such a drastic reaction from the Witch of Hope when confronted with a claim of damage and harmfulness could be seen as just a means to avoid it - but it could also be the stress of feeling like everyone is out to get you, culminating and brewing into a potion of bottled up emotions and traumas until, finally, the bottle shatters. What the Witch of Hope is best at doing is blurring the lines of everything and everyone around them. As black and white as Hope-bound often view the world, the Witch of Hope is one of few Hope-bound to be able to find that thin line of gray. However, what the Witch of Hope often does with this gray space between right and wrong is something very few Hope-bound have never even dared to think of. By manipulating their Aspect, the Witch will ultimately make it so that gray line becomes far more than just a sliver - something bigger than the space between the floorboards of some old monument, rotting away at its very base. There is a heart beating from between those lines of morality, and it is a heartbeat even the kindest, gentlest Witches of Hope have heard ever since their first brush with the flames of Rage.

It is often those afraid of what a forest contains hidden within its shadows that show such hatred for those lumbering evergreen and oak giants. What species lay unknown and undiscovered within their rustling leaves; leaves that which rest upon wooden, bony figures stretching up towards the sky, as though on their knees and reaching up towards whatever God has left them to rest on this Earthy purgatory. Perhaps that is why trees are known to grow so tall when left unchecked - perhaps there is something beyond the clouds no one else could even begin to comprehend, could never come to grasp between their fleshy branches known as fingers. Hope is much like a tree, after all, and when it is left unchecked for too long then it could grow into something far larger than our minds could not even begin to picture. A tree so rugged that not even the strongest winds can knock it down, a tree holding so much strength and faith within its wooden chest that not even the finest blades or steel teeth can slice it down. A Hope that has endured for so long despite all of the brutality it has experienced from the world around it, as well as having been molded into something that it was never meant to be, that is has now taken on the form of a weapon. It is with this weapon that the Witch and all of the Hope they hold within them will make sure that it is them - that it is their pure and holy beliefs, morals, and faith - that will stand taller than anyone else’s Hope could ever dream of doing so. The Witch of Hope is one who has faced countless bits of scrutiny of their life, with countless sinners attempting to ruin and twist the Witch’s own Hope, and it is now that the Witch has had enough.

Yet as tired as they are of being viewed as a monster, the actions in which the Witch of Hope will go to try and prove their innocence often have the opposite effect. Oftentimes for enraged Witches of Hope, this will come in the form of doubling down on their belief that they are a victim of everyone and everything - that they have never left anyone with any type of emotional, mental, or even physical scarring. They will talk about how much good they have done, all the people they have helped, and how the culprit people claim to have hurt them could simply not be the Witch - because they are not a bad person. When a Witch is in a negative state of emotion, they will most definitely never attempt to hide it. If anything, they will often do the exact opposite and make their negative emotions someone or everybody else’s problem. As for the Witch of Hope themself, all of the accusations, lies, slander, and hatred they have had to endure for so long has reached its peak. From that moment onward, everything will be downhill for everyone involved - the Witch of Hope included.

It is at this moment that the powers of the Witch will become true and powerful - undeniable to those with clear, unbiased vision. For the Witch of Hope, they will make their newest and most prioritized mission to go about and manipulate anyone’s Hope that they deem to be unfit and far too cruel. Their ultimate goal in mind is to wipe away anything related to what or anyone they deem to be the true heretics, liars, and sinners of this world. In the mind of the Witch, they have still done nothing wrong and they will never be able to do anything wrong. Their morals are that of the bleakest gray, always shifting ever closer to total darkness or the purest, most holy white. At the end of the day, though, the Witch of Hope will forever be some shade of gray than anything else, even if they try to claim otherwise.

Due to this nature of morality, it is this manipulation of Hope that the Witch, in such an enraged state, will simply have no qualms with executing. Of course, there will be the Witches of Hope who will eventually come down from such a heightened state of exasperated anxiety, fear, and anger and be met with instant regret and remorse for the actions they have committed. The ones who pride themselves the most on being bringers of peace and harmony, never harming those around them no matter how difficult they may be, the true pacifists of the Witches of Hope - they are not immune to these moments of pure, unbridled and blinding hatred and anger, but it is them who have the worst impact upon landing. On the polar opposite side, there will be the Witches of Hope who will use this as a means to give everyone a warning - a lesson to those who dare to even think of questioning the authority, powers, and even morals of someone far better than anyone else.

However, that leaves the question - what exactly does a tantrum of manipulation from a Witch look like? More specifically, what does it look like from the Witch of Hope? To some, it may be quite obvious, as it does seem to be a fairly clear and cut power. Then again, much like any other Aspect, there are always different forms that Hope may take on, as well as different layers/levels that it may contain. Another thing to keep in mind, as well, is the methods in which this manipulation would occur - and that alone would depend on the Witch of Hope themself to decide upon. Some Witches may prefer to be upfront with their manipulation, using their words - spoken or otherwise - to get the results they want. On the other hand, they may be the Witches who manipulate in a far more emotional or even metaphysical fashion. The best way to describe this would be pulling the strings on another person from a distance - specifically their own Hope in the matter of the Witch of Hope.

Binding them in strings they cannot see or even understand, yet leaving them to feel every last tug and twist and turn that the Witch executes from places unknown. Although this may raise the image of a Witch manipulating through their Aspect, that isn’t entirely the case in this instance of manipulation. Fret not, however, for the horrific path of manipulating through one’s Hope will surely be brought up at one point or another. On the surface, manipulating one’s Hope is a far more basic understanding of this power. A person’s Hope is simply their dreams and aspirations - their driving force in life, one could even say. Why do we get up in the morning if not because we have Hope for a better day than our last? Why do we commit ourselves to certain tasks if not in Hope for a reward to come in one form or another? Why do anything if not because we hold Hope that it will affect someone’s life, or perhaps even the world?

As basic as this statement of the Witch of Hope’s power is, one could argue it is one of the far sadder examples of it. If the Witch of Hope were to commit themself to only manipulating these surface-level instances of Hope, then they could prove themself to be a rather toxic and demeaning individual. To manipulate another person’s Hope, especially in the context of the Witch being at their own personal lowest moment, would essentially be a person having any optimism and driving force in life come crashing down on top of them. Even those who have as much Hope as the Witch themself may find that they suddenly begin to feel lost in life when in the presence of a volatile Witch. Any aspirations or dreams they may once have had were now twisted and knotted inside of them with little they can do to fix such a travesty of hopelessness. The Hope for a better day or even tomorrow not fully lost, but still drastically changed in a way that could terribly affect someone - perhaps even bringing them down to the same level of disparity that the Witch of Hope may be feeling at that very moment.

For some Witches, this manipulation and downgrading of someone’s Hope may be a targeted attack on them. Perhaps the Witch feels as though that this person is the reason for their turmoil and suffering, and so they wish to go about and inflict that exact same feeling unto their enemy. However, for other cases of this manipulation in the Witch’s life, this may come as a mere offshoot or accident during their tantrum and revenge-seeking. As much as the Witch may seek to set the balance right in regards to how they have personally been wronged, if they are not careful with their whipping and casting of fishing-line thin strings, then the Witch may come to find that their friends - their true friends - have been hooked and snagged into becoming collateral damage. Bringing their friend’s very own Hope down to near non-existent levels, oftentimes by the words their venomous tongue hisses and growls out, is an accident that Witches of Hope prone to such explosive meltdowns is familiar with. Their words carry far more weight and strength than they often expect, and it will often only take one flawed slip of the tongue to drag a loved one’s passion, faith, and Hope down from its own harmony.

However, that is not the only means in which a Witch may manipulate someone’s own Hope. As much as Hope is all about the basic concept of the emotion with a similar name, there are many other forms that this Aspect takes on. Faith is another mask for it to wear, and it is something that can be attached to many things. The faith in one’s own friends and other relationships, the faith in their own values and practices, and the faith in themself to do what must be done. Once again, this is often something a Witch of Hope would manage to manipulate through words alone. What matters most to them is bringing others to cast doubt on whether their faith is truly being placed in the correct things and/or people. If someone were to come to the Witch and tell them as to how lovely and beautiful their lover(s) is, and the Witch were to become jealous or wary of the power this duo, trio, or what have you were to hold together, then all it would take are a few coy glances and timid smiles from them along with a handful of questions. Do you really believe that? Is that what you really think? Who is to say they see you the same way? What are the possibilities that they treasure you just as much? If they really adored you as much as you do, why hasn’t anyone else heard them gush about it? Why aren’t they here with you? Do they trust you to be on your own? So on, and so forth.

These instances of manipulation of Hope are often brought forth because of the Witch’s own insecurities and fears. Witches of Hope care about equality, but not in the way many people would expect. Wherever the Witch of Hope is in their life - or what they are feeling in that moment - they want everyone else to be on the exact level that they are. Depending on the Witch, this mindset could either be one of grand kindness and love, one of great turmoil and toxicity, or it could be an ever-fluctuating hurricane of all the good times smearing together with the far more hopeless moments of great struggle and adversity. For the friends of the Witch who stick with them no matter what, for one reason or another, they most likely are the ones who have been through and felt all the highs and lows that their Witch of Hope has felt, especially once that Witch is able to connect with their powers. They are the ones who have learned the ups and downs, like sailors riding atop the waves of a vast, expansive ocean. They have taught themselves when to hold on to each other, when to dig in their heels and call the Witch out for what they have done, and when to simply ride out the storm that is happening around and inside of them. No doubt thanks to an experienced, rugged, and strong Blood-bound amidst their group.

There are quite a few more ways in which the Witch of Hope may manipulate their Aspect, but this section of their powers has gotten long enough. As such, there will be one more layer to their Aspect that will be considered for how it could be molded into something it is not meant to be. This is the layer - the perspective - of Hope where this is an Aspect that links to one’s own morality. What is right from wrong - the dos and don’ts - that we all hold so deeply in our hearts and souls. The truest, most wicked and determined Witches of Hope will eventually find a way to even dig their hooks into the flesh of someone’s own morals, leaving it at their mercy of what they exactly want to change it into. Any Witch who goes as far as to even attempt to manipulate the morals of some unfortunate soul are the ones who are either lacking in their own morals, or are extremely faithful and rigid when it comes to their own set of it. Witches never do something just to simply do it; no, no. If you are to ever find yourself and your moral code being pulled taut by someone’s words - words that promise you that changing who you are, what you believe to be the true black and white way of the world, is the correct thing to do; do not think for a second this is some mere coincidence.

Witches are planners, after all, and once they have a plan put into action, they will do all they can to try and cover the tracks that they had anything to do with it as everything unfolds around them. Such conniving nature is often the most dangerous thing to have in Witches, such as that as a Witch of Hope - amongst a few of their other tricky siblings. Although there will always be the Witches of Hope who go about manipulating their Aspect for the greater good of one cause or another, there will always be the ones who will use this power simply to get ahead of everyone else; to always be the one who ends up on top. These are the ones who will take their Aspect, whether it is within themself, others, and/or the world around them, and change it into something that will only ever benefit themself and maybe, just maybe, a select few others they deem to be worthy. Witches are known to be quite picky in who they give such labels of loyalty to, however, so it is often best to play it safe and stay on the good side of a Witch. That is to say unless one is certain in their ability to thrive and/or survive the fallout to come after their departure from the Witch, if they are to leave their side for one reason or another.

As much as there are ways for a Witch of Hope to manipulate their Aspect - to mold, bend, and change its properties to the Witch’s liking and benefit - there are just as many ways for a Witch of Hope to manipulate through their Aspect. Although it has been stated before that Witches are often misunderstood, and are capable of using their powers for good, the Witches who dedicate themselves to this extreme level of their powers are often the ones who go far beyond the normal scale of morality. They play their own game in a field they perfectly crafted to be of their own, making it so that anyone who stumbled into it would be under the direct rule of the Witch and their Aspect.

In order to even achieve the ability to manipulate through one’s own Aspect, the Witch must first find a means of fully swearing their very essence to their Aspect - becoming as close to their Aspect as that of an Heir, or perhaps even a Maid. They come to learn and understand their Aspect far better than any non-Seers or Mages could - knowing exactly which strings to pull and which lines to tug in order to get the proper motions they need out of it. To sacrifice oneself to their Aspect in order to achieve such enlightenment and power is something very few Witches are willing to do, as it is often the unknown consequences and aftermath that so often frightens them away from it.

For the Witches who do go forth with this ritual - in which there are many individually based ones for Witches of all walks of life - they are met with a grand reward, if only at the cost of something equally valued to them. To manipulate through one’s own Aspect is to become truly one with it; to hold all of its perfections and flaws as tightly as one holds their own soul to their body. For these Witches of Hope, they are the ones who take on all of the pros of their Aspect - of harmony, bliss, rules, structure, imagination, and safety - but must also carry the weight of the cons, as well - that of stubbornness, foolish or blind optimism, black and white thinking, and a desire to keep law and order around them. It is this burden that so often is why countless Witches turn away from this path, instead deciding to remain satisfied and content with their bare bone powers of manipulation.

Of course, there will still be some Witches of Hope who seek this power out of the goodness of their heart - in an effort to try and make things better for not only themself, but everyone else, as well. However, there will far, far more often be only the Witches who seek this power out as a final means of taking control - taking what they believe to be theirs and only theirs. Yet every so often do they make their powers known outright, nor do they allow others to even know that they have taken on this burden of having such strong abilities. This is often because of a Witch’s great fear; the fear that once others know of this final means of seizing control, they’ll start bargaining with the Witch, or worse, they may try to overthrow such a powerful force in their group. It is this fear of lacking control that so often drives these malicious Witches towards such a power in the first place. They have been left feeling so hated, berated, and powerless for so long, that now they view this to be their only means of taking all of that back and, if they feel especially vengeful, doing what they can to prove everyone wrong.

A Witch of Hope who would go out and manipulate through Hope are often the ones who know exactly how to prey on the insecurities and fears of those around them. To manipulate through one’s own Hope is to weaponize it - making it into a monolith that looms threateningly over everything and everyone with the only promise of survival being to repent and grovel at the feet of the Witch themself. They know the weaknesses of those around them - how lost someone is in their life, how vulnerable they are, how separated and ill they are compared to the rest of the pack. Like a hyena in a field of tall grass, these Witches of Hope will always go after the weakest and most moldable out of everyone in the group, eager to sink their teeth and claws into the soft, neglected flesh of their fellow outsiders. However, no one will ever truly expect such a thing from the Witch of Hope, as they put in so much effort to seem like the most carefree and weightless soul out of everyone else. A venus flytrap who sends out the sweetest smells and presents themself with the most delightful colors, only to then envelope, suffocate, and dissolve the minds and souls of anyone desperate and/or foolish enough to fall for their deception.

Whenever someone in the group begins to slip and fall, the Witch of Hope will often be one of the first people to reach out to them - offering them a refuge from whatever emotional distress they may be experiencing. Emotional vulnerability is one of the largest weak points one could reveal around a Witch such as this. Once they have discovered it, they will do all they can to start - to put bluntly - indoctrinating their prey into trusting the Witch more and more. If this person has suffered a great loss or has merely felt rather discouraged in life as of lately, then it most likely will only be a matter of time before they are approached by someone - a curse disguised as a blessing - who will come to them and preach their beliefs to those less fortunate than them. By manipulating through their Hope, the Witch’s ultimate mission is to sway those more vulnerable and susceptible towards the Witch. Speaking so highly of other, much higher forces that are beyond our comprehension, the Witch may first appear to be like that of a Maid or Sylph of Hope - like that of a healer - but they are far from it. All the words they speak, the promises they give of enlightenment and bliss, is nothing more than a facade meant to attract and inevitably entangle those precious little flies. They manipulate through their Hope - their belief, faith, or morals - by dragging others into it, thus stripping away those people’s individualism and personal morals, all the way making it out to be that of an awakening to internal peace.

However, one could argue that these Witches of Hope manipulate others through the Hope of their victims. If someone holds Hope within their heart, then these nefarious Witches may be capable of honing in on it, like a hawk to a floundering fish. Using it to their own advantage, sinking their hooks into its frail flesh, bringing someone to do possibly unspeakable acts if only in the name of their Hope and the Witch’s command. Of course, this type of manipulation would always start out slow; almost invisible to those blind to the Witch’s ways and methods. They would bring someone to lower their guard, allowing easier access to their victim’s own Hope - whether it is their belief, faith, or morals. If some were to have a strong belief in something, then the Witch would find a way to make it into a bargaining chip or like that of a boulder always dangling over their victim’s head. After all, if they so truly do believe in such a thing, then they would do any task that remotely relates to it in order to prove it, right? If they have such strong faith in this group, or even group, then they would be willing to do anything for them, yes? If they are so certain of their morals, then they would execute them even in the most extreme cases of them occurring, is that not true?

Maybe it isn’t. Maybe they only said those things to get people to like them; to believe in a lie crafted by that person so as to hide the horrid truth about them. No one likes a liar, though, and so they keep digging, and digging, and digging deeper and deeper, never digging deep enough to get away or even reach the core of their problems. That is exactly what they are - a liar - and the Witch of Hope will take every moment to threaten and remind the person of who they really are. Except, it isn’t. It isn’t who they are. They were a completely different person before the Witch turned up in their life. Right? It’s the Witch. They’re the one making you do these horrible things to other people, or even to yourself. Right? They’re the bad guy, they’re the one actually doing all of this. They’re just using you as some puppet - a scapegoat to throw under the bus when its horn begins to blare out into the sky. Right?

Whenever their authority is questioned, the Witch would be quick to double, triple, perhaps even quadruple down on what they say and do, if only to keep their precious fish under their talons. The Witches of Hope who manipulate others through that secondary person’s own Hope are often the ones who should not be trifled with, for they are the ones who have the darkest morals out of all Witches of Hope. No good can come of these Witches. Instead, all that can be expected is countless self-doubt, gaslighting, feeling like a prisoner in one’s own self, and so much more - all the while being left to suffer at the strings of fate and action the Witch so tightly holds onto. This is what often marks the power and behavior of Witches of Hope - or really any Witch - who chooses to manipulate through their Aspect.

Ultimately, the Witch of Hope is a rather polarizing figure in whatever group they may find themself to be within. They are someone who is simultaneously misunderstood, yet will often subtly leave their intentions out for the entire world - and group - to see. Although one could argue they are some of the far more nefarious of the Witch’s, it all merely depends on the Witch of Hope themself as to what role they want to play in the group they find themself within. Witches are complex people, having many layers and immense depth to who they are, what they want, and why they do the things they do. As much as their powers of manipulating Hope or manipulating through it may sound invasive and startling to some, there are more than certainly Witches of Hope out there who do ultimately use these powers for good. Indeed, their hands will often be just as dirty as other Witches with less favorable morals, but chances are they are aware of this and what they have done. As such, they most likely hold themselves extremely accountable, if only occasionally having their own tantrums and meltdowns of overblown victimhood.

What exactly is the role of a Witch of Hope in a group setting, in a session or otherwise? Preferably, they are meant to be someone who brings people together, and who also brings the right, proper justice to those who have been wronged. However, this is something that won’t ever exactly be done in the most conventional methods. Manipulating the very Hope around them and others, the ultimate role of the Witch is to be the one who strengthens people’s holds on not only their own Hope, but everyone else’s. By blurring the lines and expanding that gray area of morals, the Witch of Hope is someone who brings people to question what they really believe in, who they can really put their faith in, and where their true morals lie. Whether inadvertently or otherwise, this will often only bring the people targeted and affected by the Witch to become closer, and to gain even more certainty in what they believe in, if only to survive during a tantrum of the Witch. Not only that, but the Witch of Hope is also meant to teach everyone around them a numerous amount of lessons; on trust, on how not to perceive someone’s entire personality on how they present themself, how to stand by their own beliefs, and so much more. They are a teacher in the most unexpected way possible, but it is simply the role they find themself within.

Because of their powers of manipulation, they could so easily untangle and loosen any conflict within a group. However, instead, they will often do the opposite - being the one to twist and morph Hope in themself and everyone around them, oftentimes during one of their many tantrums and breakdowns. When all is said and done, it is their friends, allies, and other players in their group that will have to fix the mess that the Witch made, if only sometimes gaining some help from the far more remorseful and kind Witches of Hope. Despite their title, and despite their Aspect, discord is often something that will inevitably stir and awaken wherever the Witch of Hope may leave their mark - like how the flap of a bird’s wings can bring a storm to torrentially pour down upon a ship at sea. For the people in the Witch’s life, these storms may cause some fear and uncertainty, causing their Hope of survival to falter under the weight of the rain, but it is these exact storms that will only make their Hope become far sturdier over time. They will learn how to hunker it down, what - or who - exactly to hold onto as that ocean of despair and fear laps and claws at the side of their ship, and they will learn how to become a better person out of it.

The reason the Witch of Hope is such a controversial figure is due to their ways of teaching these lessons of Hope and how to hold onto it - how to not let it slip away in the times you need it the most, or how to let someone else control it. Rather than slowly bring their pupils into the shallows, slowly growing further and further away from shore, the Witch of Hope is one who tends to throw everyone in, head first, out of a moving helicopter. It is these arguably unorthodox methods that cause so much strife between others, some arguing that there is only ill will in the actions of the Witch, while others may claim that they have good intentions - just poor, or even their own extremely unique, execution of it. As always, asking the Witch themself will rarely yield any real answer, if any at all. Even if the Witch of Hope were to give one, who is to say it is simply not another lesson in building up one’s Hope - for if one believes their theory to be correct, why would it falter or be threatened by someone else’s belief or theory of what to actually be the case?

The Witch does not create Hope within others, but instead changes it, actively or otherwise. They defy all odds, all expectations, put before them - for what at first may seem to be the Witch being a terrible, toxic person, turning and ripping and reshaping the way someone’s Hope looks, what could really be occurring is a means of actually teaching - inspiring - others to keep their Hope - their true Hope - exactly how they want it. For the Witch of Hope, they know exactly how it feels to have their own Hope constantly challenged and ridiculed, and how it can affect one’s own peace within not only their life, but also their very self. It is something the Witch of Hope never wishes for anyone - especially their friends, and even allies who may not entirely understand the Witch’s Hope - to go through such turmoil alone.

Hope comes in many forms, and there are some that people understand far more than others - much like knowledge and learning. It can be as small as a window sill garden with various flowers and succulents growing inside it, alongside the person who tends to it. Then, it could be something as large and foreboding as the forest behind one’s house, but deep inside that forest is a beautiful, peaceful lake where all life comes to flourish and find peace. Perhaps it is a blank piece of paper, ready and eager for whatever hopes and dreams the person who holds it has in that very moment. The Witch of Time is like that of creeping ivy on the side of a building; while some may only see them as an invasive vine who only seeks to destroy and consume the structural integrity of the group around them, others may see a chance for true, romantic beauty to take place, if only given enough support, love, and care from the people who bear witness to it.

Much like anything in nature, the Witch of Hope is one whose role is to ultimately teach others to have strength in their own faith, rather than try to ruin the Hope of others. They are to teach their friends and allies how to be patient, humble, and observant of the world around them, even if it does mean putting them through such trials of their own insecurities and doubts. What ultimately defines the Witch of Hope is uniqueness, and the desire to bring everyone into a better version of themself than who they once were. If there is anyone who can bring a better, brighter world into existence, it is that of the Hope-bound. For the Witch of Hope, they will do just that for them and their friends, but they will most certainly be damned if they do not do it in what they deem to be the most fun and unique way possible.

[myfandomrambles]

Morgana Pendragon Character Analysis (pt1)

Introduction:

Morgana Pendragon is one of the most key characters in Merlin. Her role is integral to the character arc of all of the other leads. Her story is about how someone can let their pain consume them whole. As an abuse victim and a member of a marginalised community, she is set up for being isolated and fearful. This alienation is turned both inward and outward making her deeply dangerous to herself and others. She takes this alienation to push almost everyone out of her life and force others to suffer the same way she did. Her righteous anger at her treatment by her father and society goes to waste when none is put to constructive ends. 

She allows emptiness, fear and anger to consume her. She replaced her core beliefs with those of “others are out to hurt me” and “the only way to live is through the acquisition of power”. Her ability for both affective and cognitive empathy becomes suppressed as any joy she can drive comes from exerting control over others. She is compelled into implementing her obsessions around revenge and survival. Depression, obsessive thoughts, paranoia, fear and anger fill all corners of her mind leaving her without access to flexible thought and internal peace. 

Analysis:

At the start, she is living as a member of court and Uther’s ward. She continually butts heads with Uther. This is due to her being headstrong and fearless. This bravery and stubborn disposition causes more rifts as she is seen to be hysterical and as an object, leaving her subject to gaslighting and other forms of abuse. However, this rarely stops her from being involved when important. Morgana often works with Arthur and Merlin early on. The most key of these events being when they save Mordred. (1x08)

However, her stubbornness isn’t all-consuming, while resisting being forced to do things she dislikes she is smart enough to know when to lie and when to bend the knee. Partly because as a child and young-adult she holds a mix of respect, love and fear towards Uther. She shows skills in court life, this is deeply important to understand as it becomes a useful skill when she works against the kingdom. But in the beginning, it shows someone who lives in the duality of wanting to assert herself and someone who absorbed the social rules she was raised with. 

Morgana shows great care for those around her wanting them to be safe and happy. Often stepping up to speak on behalf of them, and generally treating even Gwen and Merlin, people considered her inferiors socially, with respect. Standing up for Gwen's dad, helping protect Elador, helping feed peasants and trying to protect Gwen when they are attacked shows her kindness and loyalty. (1x03, 1x08, 1x10-12)

She doesn’t have a consuming desire for power, no particular plan to marry into or otherwise acquire power. Her later turn to power is reactive and less of an innate drive. It also a drive to be the one who determines her future. 

When Morgana's powers start to grow we see the first shift in her character. The development of anxiety and depression colour the way she acts. It adds layers to her abuse and trauma. A great deal of gaslighting is used to convince her she is mistaken and to prevent the acknowledgement of her magic. Which we know Gaius has been hiding since she was a child visa via her prophetic nightmares. 

This alienation is from the entire culture she grew up in. When she visits the druids in The Nightmare Begins (2x03) Morgana feels free and desires to stay, she just wants to be herself. 

This is similar to the experience marginalised people experience in real life. She knows that if discovered her magic father figure/father would likely kill her. Morgana also believes her other loved ones would at the least disown her. 

In reality, there is some nuance. Merlin acts as both an agent of the system while originally trying to help her and Gaius and Gwen would not wish harm on her. But Morgana is understandably afraid and full of anxiety to reach out for help. This anxiety, confusion, fear and alienation become the way she perceives the world. Life is Morgana, then everyone else. This pain drives a wedge between her and everyone she used to care for.

Outside of the gaslighting and threat of violence, she experiences from those close to her during The Witchfinder (2x07) we see her deal with mental assault from an outside force with no support from her family as they don’t understand. This makes her dysregulation, anxiety, depression and isolation worsen. 

The next two key events in her first character transformation can be seen at the end of season two. First, Morgana meets Morgause (2x08) and automatically feels a connection to her. Second, Morgana is pushed to verbally disown Uther due to his treatment of Avalar and by extension the rest of the Druids and others born with magic. This is the final relational rupture between them:

Morgana: They are rising up against you! From this day forward, I do not know you. From this day forward, I disown you

King Uther: You will go to your chambers!

Morgana: And you, Uther, you will go to hell.

 (2x11)

We then see her move into helping Morgause try and destroy Camelot. At this point, it is driven by the anger she has for Uther and his treatment of others. It has yet to have the drive of becoming queen. Her connection to Morgause also plays a large role as she finally has a person to be close to without the artifice of court life over it. Morgause gives her a choice and with that an illusion of power. At this point, there is a more powerful member of their team. Morgana ends this attempt at Camelot almost being murdered by someone she considered a friend. (2x12)

We then have an interesting moment in her character arch in her year away from Camelot. This time away changes her from someone who while willing to hurt Uther didn’t seem driven for the destruction of Camelot, to one who will hurt everyone. There is also a reprieve from the fear-driven to more controlled anger by the assistance of Morgause. 

We are never told what happened in the year. All we know is he stayed with her sister and likely had her hatred of Uther entrenched even further. Her worst tendencies towards vengeance over justice and ego over compassion are reinforced. This shifts her schema farther into negative ones and worsens her ability to think in shades of grey.

When she does return her previous ability to play the game of court life is stronger and utilised to great effect convincing everyone for a while that she is essentially the same person, except for Merlin and by extension Gaius. Gwen is the next to figure it out due to Morgana’s affect control dropping and her real emotion bleeding through over time. (3x08)

As she returns to Camelot she quickly moves to attempt another attack. This attempt is stopped again by Merlin, but in this attempt, we see new cruelty in her willingness to torture Uther and that her magic has grown. This is also the last time I believe her alienation and marginalization is her driving force. After this, I think she fully turns her internalized fear of her magic onto everyone else. Her exchange with Merlin during the battle feels genuine and not at all like manipulation or even just a justification as it becomes later, but a real motivation. She has not yet grown to shut off her empathy for everyone, only Uther and Arthur. (3x1-2)

Soon after her second attempt on the castle, we see another large shift in motivations. She almost dies and is severely injured which puts her in a vulnerable place and during this same time she learns she is Uther’s daughter in blood as well as circumstance. She learns that he never was willing to claim her or even tell her. This pushes her to act rashly, almost committing patricide. (3x05)

Her ability to be cruel in her aims continues to grow, to hurt Arthur she puts Gwen through terrible pain as well as Elyan. (3x07) We see her magic grow, her emotions grow but her ability to hide her intentions failing, at least around Gwen. Her attempts at her family's lives also continue to be cruel as she tries to kill Arthur and Uther in slow and painful ways. (3x08, 3x11)

When Morgana isn’t trying to kill the people she used to love she is trying to mess with their lives in more petty ways. This includes exposing the love Arthur and Gwen have for each other, putting their relationship in jeopardy and Gwen’s over well being. This is over her fear of Gwen being Queen when Arthur would become Queen, something that Morgana gains obsessive thoughts over throughout the rest of the story. (3x10)

Morgana is willing to kill a large number of the people at this point not only those she has a personal issue with. Though she does offer safety to Gwen thought it’s contingent on her considering Morgana to be the rightful queen. She is willing to rule by fear and threat, not understanding how to win over the people. (3x12-13). This attempt fails and Morgana loses her sister and the allies her sister made.

After being defeated and having to flee the castle with her dying sister she spends a year moving around with her ill sister while also gaining more strength and becoming a fully-fledged High Priestess of the Old Religion. 

In an attempt to take the castle again she has to kill her sister. Something that caused her great distress as Morgana believed Morgause was the only person who understood and loved her. This event causes great suffering to all, it’s also when Morgana adds her obsession with Emrys along with her obsessive thoughts over Gwen and Uther. 

During this first period of exile, she recruits Agravaine to be her spy and aid within the court. They seem to be united by a common cause but Morgana doesn’t treat him as equal, adopting the belief she hated so much from Uther, treating others as tools. 

She also accepted a standard of living that is much below that of the ward of the king. Her way of dress and acting also shifts, she’s still cunning and driven but while now being the master of herself she is more erratic and seems to feel just as out of control and obsessed as she was when living a lie. Her affect control, impulse control, regulation and social regulation deteriorated. Fear also returns to being a driving force. (4x01-2)

Morgana succeeds in killing Uther in The Wicked Day (4x03) by cursing a necklace and Agravaine puts it on Uther so that when Arthur uses magic to try and bring back his father from a fatal injury he dies faster. Planning to finally kill her father she also wishes guilt and pain on her brother.

We then see Morgana use both strength and her ability to manipulate to work Queen Annis to try and kill Arthur. Morgana is not against using her history to use another person. However, Annis sees through her when Arthur shows honour and points out that Morgana is much more like Uther than she realises, and in saying this it also refutes the point Morgana tried to make early in the episode that Gorlois was who was her true father. This is true in both the biological sense but also through the fact that Uther spent more time acting as her father and had generally known her own life. This statement also acts as a trigger causing her to show extreme emotions. (4x05)

One of the key lines of dialogue we have to see where Morgana’s mindset is at during this period is 

Morgana: Don’t think I don’t understand loyalty because I’ve got no one left to be loyal to

This is important because it shows that the isolation that started by The Nightmare Begins has enveloped her. Now she is no longer even fighting with or for anyone she has devoted herself to revenge and survival.

We also see the fear that drives Morgana as at the site of Emrys her first reaction is flight. During their battle, we see that they are almost evenly matched in magical power, though Morgana only really gets through due to Merlin not being willing to act decisively still. (4x06)

Morgana's obsession with Emrys becomes almost all-consuming. Morgana gives away the most emotionally significant thing left of her sister to obtain information on Emrys. She tries desperately to find the information torturing a man who spent her childhood helping to take care of her. But a layer of contradictions exists as he also tried to make her doubt her reality and is helping the person destined to prevent her ascension to queen and to kill her. This complex relationship is important here for the emotional repercussions of what seems like a straightforward attempt to extract information. (4x07)

Morgana shows no regard for even the laws of life and death gain in her quest in Lancelot Du Lac (4x09) bringing Lancelot back to life. Morgana does not even to directly finish her quest to take the throne but to ruin her once friend, and closest confidant's chance at happiness. This is driven by an obsession with her past nightmare about Gwen becoming Queen. Though of course, it has the added benefit of breaking her brother's heart. The only show of emotional connection we see in her is the fear underlying her actions and her musings on the emptiness the shade Lancelot has. 

During The Sword and The Stone (4x12-13), we see Morgana take over the castle by using Agravaine for treason. Morgana is not only ruthless in what would be considered warfare but takes initiative to be cruel to the peasants willing to let them starve to gain control. She then tortures Gawain, Elyan and Gaius not only for information but just because she gains pleasure from it. The ability to empathise with those she deemed her enemies is no longer existent, even those who have not directly harmed her. Her depressive states and emotional nubbing is only broken when she can exert control over other people. She is choosing to hurt others for her pleasure. 

This is their first battle when both Morgana and Arthur understand who the other is. Morgana calls him as her “dear brother” as a taunt. We then have this exchange:

King Arthur: What happened to you, Morgana?

King Arthur: I thought we were friends

Morgana: As did I. But alas, we were both wrong.

King Arthur: You can't blame me for my father's sins.

Morgana: It's a little late for that. You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about me and my kind. You're not as different from Uther as you'd like to think.

King Arthur: Nor are you.

Morgana: I’m going to enjoy killing you, Arthur Pendragon. Not even Emrys can save you now.

We see Arthur is hurt by what happened and truly did love Morgana and doesn’t like having to fight her like this. And Morgana is consumed by the pain of the past to the inability to care for the present. Arthur, however, is not giving her the power of acknowledging her as his sister. He still says “my father”. He compares her to their father and triggers her anger. We see them attempt to fight, Morgana is unable to use her magic due to Merlin and panics. 

She gathers herself, able to make her escape even coming close to killing Gwen. She then almost dies only being revived by Aithusa, who becomes her closest friend from this point on. (4x13)

We then have another time skip of over two years. Two of those years Morgana was being tortured in the pit by The Sarum. This has the effect of taking an already traumatised individual and layering two years of severe chronic trauma on top of it. She has less control of herself as a result of this and loses the little bit of impulse control she had. 

We first see Morgana after this when she is searching for the Diamair to try and learn how to beat Arthur. Morgana can capture and lure Arthur to her by kidnapping his men and using spies. She almost finds what she seeks but the creature itself has no wish to be used by her making her search futile. We also see her not even consider a father being willing to do something dangerous to save his daughter, her own acquired lack of compassion colouring her judgement. 

This is also the re-introduction of Mordred, a character that acts as the turning point in the rest of the narrative. Seeing Mordred shows some of the only real joy we see from Morgana since her sister died years back. She, however, pushes him away due to her display of rage and dysregulation. Mordred stabs her literally in the back. (5x01-2)

One of Morgana's most cruel attacks is used to try and turn Gwen into a weapon by torturing her for days, breaking down her psychological defences leaving her open to manipulation. This leaves her under control of Morgana thinking that Morgana cares for her. While this is mainly a spell able to be broken there is a part that relies on Gwen's psychology of being compassionate so she will be sympathetic to Morgana’s story and trauma. With the long psychological attacks and this play on Gwen's compassion, we see Morana essentially form a trauma bond. She manipulates Gwen’s perceptions and emotions in a way that is very similar to emotional abusers. 

 This act also kills Elyan in Morgana's attempt to harm Arthur (5x06) During this control we see how strongly Morgana used it to make Gwen not only a weapon but also they feel like they are friends again, being lonely might have been part of why he chose this method and less of a direct method like she did with Merlin. (5x07-8) 

Once Arthur is aware of her curse on Gwen he sets out to break the magic but is almost thwarted by the Dochraid who tells Morgana of his plans to save Gwen. This is interesting as the Dochraid is one of the few magic beings who truly side with Morgana betting on her strength of will over Merlin’s. Morgana is then forced to face off against the one thing other than her dragon, Mordred. Mordred puts up a good fight even saving Merlin’s secret. She felt conflicted in harming him and ends up losing to his surprise attack. (5x09)

After her plan with Gwen fails he returns to her full-tilt hunt for Emrys. She hunts the Catha for information causing terror across multiple kingdoms, then excruciatingly tortures him to try and find out. Hunting anyone down who might know these plans however fail because Alator and Finna believed in something larger and were willing to suffer and die. Morgana no longer understands the bigger picture her idea of a world free for magic isn't her leading drive anymore. After this incident, Morgana is seen to have declared all-out war with Camelot. (5x10)

Mordred acts as the last domino to fall into place before the final battle between Morgana and Arthur Pendragon. When Kara is killed and Merlin and Arthur were the drivers behind her execution, Mordred becomes angry enough at the system of Camelot to move to side with someone he saw as dangerous and broken. He gives Morgana the information she needs on Emrys. (5x11)

With Mordred by her side, Morgana makes her final move, forging a sword just to kill Arthur and finalizing the amassment of an army. She clears the way by removing Emrys from the situation, giving her and Mordred a clean shot at Arthur and the army of Camelot. However, she underestimates Merlin and we see her lose much of her Army and Mordred. This causes Morgana despair as she has to bury the last person she loved. One of the few things that could even start to pierce her depression is ripped away. 

This loss isn’t enough to stop the endless patterns of a compulsive need to take out revenge on Arthur. 

The final moments of her life she taunts her brother in his death claiming a victory. It’s however short-lived as Merlin kills her with a dragon fire-forged blade right after she claims her immortality. Her pain consumed her, and as the death of her father there is no triumph in hurting her brother as all it does is open her up for her death. (5x12-13)

[yandere-daydreams]

do you have an oc? i want hear about your ocs

Right! I’ve actually had these four siblings in mind for a while, and I *will* use any excuse I get to talk about them. In my defense, they’re all great. Babies that are well past spoiled-rotten, but they’re my babies, and I can’t help that. (The picrews used are here x x x x) 

TW: Imprisonment, Emotional Manipulation, Delusional Mindsets, Non-Consensual Drug-Use and Toxic Relationships. 

Name: Lionel Hardcastle

Position: The Failure of an Older Brother

Age: 26

Type: Delusional And Obsessive. 

Bio: The tranquil, would-be heir to the Hardcastle organization. Although his younger siblings were considered, Lionel was always the best with clients, the calmest in painfully crushing situations, and even if he made a point to hide it, the undisputed favorite of his parents. He would’ve taken over as soon as he was of-age, but his glaring lack of interest in the world of business and leadership provided quite the roadblock.

Well, and the fact that he can’t read. Never could, never will, and he shows no indication of an ability to learn. Needless to say, this caused some… minor issues between him and the rest of his family.

That might be why he likes you so much, his sweetheart, his love, the light of his oh-so-frigid life. You’re just so kind, and he knows you’ll never abandon him, even if you act so stubborn whenever he asks you to promise. It’s all he can do not to laugh when you throw your little tantrums and scream like you don’t adore the affection he’ll lather onto you so suffocatingly. There’s nothing he’d rather do than be around you, any moment where his skin isn’t on your instantly becoming unbearable. It’s no wonder he’s always the first of his siblings to snap. He hardly remembers to breathe, when you’re not in the room.

Lionel is quite the artist, too, focusing on stone and sculpting but dabbling in paint whenever the temptation strikes him. Suffice to say, as his fixation begins to outweigh his rationality his patient partner becomes his favorite muse. There’s more of your likenesses in existence than there are galleries to house them, but don’t worry, Lionel’s got a special portion of his workshop dedicated to all those mediocre extras, if only to keep himself sustained when you’ve switched from begging for the restraints to come off to hiding yourself away. Still, there’s only so long he can last before breaking and running to find you. If you really wanted to be alone, then you must not want to be with him. That’d mean you were trying to get away from him, trying to leave him, and… 

Lionel just isn’t sure if he can take that. Not again, and certainly not from you. He’s a weak man, when it comes to that, but he as more than enough iron-based safety measures to put his mind at ease.

Name: Persia Hardcastle

Position: The Motherly Middle Sister

Age: 25

Type: Controlling and Overbearing

Bio: Where do you even start with Persia? She’s the second-born, but it wouldn’t be untrue to say she’s more akin to a nanny than another Hardcastle. Part of it comes from how she grew up, how she had to take care of a pair of twins and deal with a suddenly absentee older brother, all while juggling just how unprepared her parents were for their own tragic, mysterious, purely accidental deaths. But, some people think she’s just… like that. A perfectionist, even when it comes to her own flesh-and-blood. 

Of course, you’re no exception. She’s just as tightly-laced with you as she is while trying to save Finn’s reputation or bring Lionel back home. She does love you, don’t get me wrong, but you’re her stress-relief, her saving grace, the only factor in her life she can have complete control of, even if she doesn’t realize just how much sway she has over you. She knows it isn’t healthy, that no one should think the things she does about you, but Persia can’t risk losing you. She won’t lock you up, she isn’t crazy, but… she doesn’t really have to use chains and collars, either. 

It’s odd, how fixed a certain behavior can be for one person, even after they’ve outgrown the use for it. She was the main caretaker for the twins while they were growing up, so she may’ve gotten into the habit of being a little… parental, when it comes to those she loves. If that just means giving you a disapproving look when you’re eating something you shouldn’t be or insisting on tucking you in at night, count yourself lucky. Falling into her role a little too passionately certainly wouldn’t be out of character, not when she’s already so invested in making sure you’re happy and healthy and by her side. Her angel’s medication is a small price to pay for bliss, really, even if you’re such a baby when it comes to taking it.

Name: Evelyn (Evie) Hardcastle

Position: The Mature Younger Sister

Age: 19

Type: Manipulative and Possessive

Bio: Now, here’s our heir. I mean, why wouldn’t she be? She’s fully literate and everything! Evie’s parents were already gone before Finn and her were so much as differentiable, but their advisors caught on to the siblings’ personalities quickly. Naturally, Evie found her way into a position of power as quickly as she was able to, not only for lack of competition. Not unlike her older brother, she doesn’t have any real interest in whatever vague, sketchy medical field she was thrust into, but Evie stands apart from the pure-intentions of most Hardcastsles. She likes the power of it all, how big it makes her feel. 

She likes knowing she’s the one in charge. You’ll come to understand that, with time.

There’s a good chance you’re her assistant or secretary or some member of her staff that made the mistake of getting a little too friendly, stumbling your way into her cold, dead heart before she could properly put up her defenses. The specifics don’t really matter, not as long as you have those big, shining doe-eyes and the sense to do whatever she says without a second thought. She just thinks you’re so soft, so cute, so vulnerable when you’re in the hands of someone stronger than you… you can’t blame her for getting a little carried away, honestly.

Don’t worry, though, Evie’s the most responsible sibling for a reason. She’s not a nice woman, but she can put on quite the show, as long as it’s for your sake. She’ll be whatever you need her to be for the longest time, whether that’s a boss willing to make compromises or a shoulder to cry on. She’ll string you along for as long as she needs to, having you isolate yourself and falling into her arms so sweetly, but her patience tends to wear thin when someone else comes into the picture. Do your best to avoid that, regardless of how minor the relationship may seem. She already keeps you on such a tight leash… it’d be a massacre if you gave her a real excuse to use force.

Name: Finnian (Finn) Hardcastle

Position: The Rebellious Younger Brother

Age: 19

Type: Jealous and Obsessive

Bio: I hope you’re not prone to whiplash, because Finn is the polar opposite of his sister. Despite being twins, identical on the deepest level two people can be, Evie was groomed while Finn was cast to the side, spoiled and let run wild, unimpeded by the standards his other siblings were held to. He has nothing to do with the family cooperation and as little to do with the others as possible, and he likes it that way. You might’ve caught on, by now, but Finn isn’t exactly the ‘business’ type.

But, distance breeds loneliness, and loneliness breeds desperation. It’s not that he latches onto everyone and anyone, no, Finn is rather selective, but he refuses to let go when he does find someone he wants to be with. You’re just so smart and so clever and so perfect, and all Finn wants to do is stay close to you, to never leave your side. The goal is innocent, full of misguided hope, but Finn didn’t exactly have a normal upbringing. He doesn’t know he shouldn’t want to follow you home or that it’s a little off-putting for a stranger to sit so close to you on an empty train, nor is he going to catch on if you try to turn him down gently. Hell, even if scream and do tell him what a pathetic stalker he is, you won’t get very far. Finn is just so happy you’re talking to him, he can’t bring himself to process what you’re saying.

Oh, and keep in in mind that he’s very used to being the center of attention. Whether it’s Persia’s persistent demands for ‘family time’ or Evie’s loudly voiced concerns, Finn knows when he’s the focus, and he doesn’t like it when the spotlight is somewhere else. That applies to you, too, as hard as he tries to stay on your good side. Distractions aren’t an option, he just gets so twitchy whenever he starts to think he’s your second-favorite, even if you’re being stolen away by a gift he got for you. It’s not a pleasant sort of envy, either. The way he clings to you and whines may seem harmless, at first, but Finn isn’t exactly good at holding himself back, especially when it comes to you. Desperation can turn into destruction in the blink of an eye, and he rarely goes after your new toys. 

[anythingstevenuniverse]

*SUF Spoilers* Anyone Can Suffer from Trauma

As the series ends, “Steven Universe: Future” gives us a reminder and portrayal that anyone can suffer from trauma. “Steven Universe” and “Steven Universe: The Movie” have showed trauma many times. However, the epilogue series gives us the one person who is suffering the most right now: Steven. Steven has been through a lot but is usually positive and is able to deal with the situation or does not see it and pushes it off. However, two years after saving the universe, he is starting to fall deeper in depression and isolating himself from loved ones due to trauma from his past. In the beginning of the series, some fans saw this as a surprise because his character is to be kind, empathetic, and positive no matter the situation. But even a positive character like Steven will struggle with a situation he cannot deal with due to his past trauma. “Steven Universe: Future” bring the subject of trauma the show has dealt with before using Steven, the main character, to emphasize that trauma can affect anyone.

The franchise has portrayed trauma in many different characters. The Crystal Gems have had their share of traumas related to the Gem War, Gem society of Era 2, and before and after Steven was born. Pearl was obsessed with Rose Quartz and was deeply traumatized by her passing. She projected her obsession to Steven and questioned her worth as an individual without Rose. Garnet is a mixed gem fusion and was frowned upon by Era 2 Gem society. She did not exhibit much trauma until we see “Keep It Together” where she felt guilt and anger over forced fusion Gems which can be viewed as survivors guilt and she puts pressure on herself to be a calm and collected leader. Amethyst was not affected by the war due to emerging from the ground later then the other Gems. However, she developed insecurities about herself not only because she is a defective Amethyst but also because the Crystal Gems associated the Kindergarten as a bad place therefore making internalizing her existence as a mistake. She struggled to love herself and it later created an unhealthy obsession to beat Jasper in season 3. The Crystal Gems have had their fair share of trauma but are not the only Gems who have suffered some type of trauma. Lapis Lazuli was a war prisoner trapped inside a mirror for thousands of years and trapped herself in an abusive relationship/fusion with Jasper. She was very untrusting of others and when the Diamonds were involved, she ran away out of fear despite hurting others in the process (this is not to blame or negatively criticize anything on Lapis, these are just my observations and opinions). The corrupted Gems during the series are war victims who lost their minds and forms from the Diamond’s blast. Bismuth suffered betrayal from the Gem she idolized because of her radical ideals without anyone ever knowing, leaving her to lash out at Steven and hurt that no one know the true story. After Lapis left with the barn, Peridot fell into a deep depression and lost any form of joy in her life. Spinel suffered abandonment from Pink Diamond that lead to her lashing out at Steven, who did not deserve it, and caused her to loath herself and act out irrationally. Even the Diamonds suffered trauma when they lost Pink Diamond. Yellow Diamond buried herself in her work, Blue Diamond never moved on from mourning, and White Diamond isolated herself from others to maintain a perfect image (does not excuse their genocidal actions in the past, again just my observations). Lots of the Gems suffered some form of trauma in “Steven Universe” and “Steven Universe: The Movie” and were able to move on from it with the help of Steven.

This time it is Steven’s turn to face his trauma in “Steven Universe: Future”. Steven is known as the problem solver and using empathy and kindness to help others. In “Steven Universe” he can handle tough situations and help Gems to move on or/and cope with their trauma. However, this is due to the problems his mother has caused and was a target of Homeworld. He has faced attempted assassinations, identity crises, family drama, and adult situations which can be so much for a child. With the support of his family and friends and his empathetic and kind nature, he either brushes off these problems off to save everyone or deals with these terrible situations with a support system. However, with Era 3 peace time and losing his purpose to save others in “Steven Universe: Future”, he is now dealing with his past and the trauma is manifesting into his behavior.

“Steven Universe: Future” is not the only time he has faced traumatic experiences. There are many episodes in “Steven Universe” where Steven had to face serious situations. “We Need to Talk” Steven clutched his Gem after witnessing Connie and Greg fist bump over shared experience with Gem related knowledge. Steven is a hybrid of a Gem and human and feels alone because he is one of a kind. “Mindful Education” he bottled up his feelings of failure to save others and it started to appear as hallucinations when fused as Stevonnie. He was only able to confront those feelings when talking to Connie and her reassurance to Steven that it is okay to feel bad made him feel better. “Storm in the Room” he confronts his mother (more of a hologram AI) about questioning her motives and damage she caused. The room reassures Steven that his existence was purely out of love to bring life not to fix problems unrelated to him. In “Lion 4: Alternative Ending”, he is frantically trying to find his magical destiny or purpose. After watching a second version of the Rose video, Greg tells Steven there is no destiny for him and Steven realizes his mother just wants Steven to live his own life how he wants it. “So Many Birthdays” he aged rapidly because he felt silly liking childish things and starts aging rapidly. It was not until the Gems started bickering, did he realize he can still like things deemed childish. There are episodes I am missing where he dealt with adult situations and Steven starts to have recollections of his past in “Growing Pains”, but the main purpose is Steven has faced traumatic events affecting him but is able to deal with them because he talked it out or it never bothered him.

When the movie came out, he accomplished restructuring Gem society and creating Little Homeworld for Gems, uncorrupted and Homeworld, to help integrate into Earth society. Everything seemed like the usual happily ever after until Spinel comes in injecting bio-poison into the Earth and rejuvenating the Crystal Gems and Steven. He and the Crystal Gems had to restart, literally, and figure out everything with limited use of his powers. Spinel was a tough character to help, especially when she spiraled downward when Steven left her for a few seconds, and she became angry and started fighting. After fighting Spinel, tiring her out and resolving the conflict, destroying the injector, having the Diamonds take Spinel back to Homeworld, and fixing the damage, it seemed like everything is at peace again.

“Steven Universe: Future” shows how Steven and everyone else is after times of peace. However, something is different with Steven in this mini epilogue series. Once he realizes people are doing fine without him, he is losing his purpose and feels like is friends and family are drifting away. There have been some incidents where Steven had to save the day, but it was solved quickly and he is used to life-threatening situations. The recurring theme or problem of the series is Steven feeling disconnected with everyone because they do not need his help and does not know what to do with his future. We also see trauma resurfacing from this past and he is unwilling to share or get help for it. Steven is dealing with trauma from the past, closing himself off from friends and family, having self-doubt and feelings of being left behind, and suffering from the over-bearing responsibilities and facing life-threatening situations from having a savior complex. He has devoted himself to helping others and is used to chaos surrounding Gem related conflict. There is no other way for him to communicate without helping someone and with no conflict outside his own, he can’t talk to other people normally anymore. In the recent episode “Growing Pains” Dr. Maheswaran explains Steven about childhood trauma is starting to affect his body in dealing with stress. Because he has been in so many life-threatening situations in the past, Steven’s body is reacting to mild stress as life-threatening and activating his powers in extreme ways. It did not seem to have been a problem until Connie’s rejection in “Together Forever” is triggering his body to act as if his life is in danger very much like PTSD. With Dr. Maheswaran’s honest and factual explanation on trauma to Steven and his father as a support maybe he can try to recover. Depending on how the Crewniverse decides to end, it will resolve in Steven figuring himself out and learning to heal himself from the trauma to start moving forward and to the future.

The epilogue series portrays a very important concept of trauma: everyone can suffer from trauma. Are there people affected from severe trauma far worse than others? Yes. Does that make it okay to invalidate mild or moderate trauma depending on person’s background, personality and resources? No. Coming from personal experience and the few reactions I have seen on Steven’s behavior from the series, trauma affects anyone regardless of the person. There are people who can better themselves with more resources then others such as a support system, therapy, self-care, awareness, and coping mechanisms. Some have access to these resources and others may not, but it still does not change the fact anyone can suffer from trauma. There were a few times I saw posts remarking the change in Steven’s character. In “Steven Universe”, Steven was an optimistic and empathetic kid who solved other’s problems through communication. When “Steven Universe: Future” aired, some fans commented negatively on Steven’s inability to communicate well with others anymore and isolating himself due to fear of his friend and family drifting away. His savior complex, especially the need to save others, is causing him to not talk with others about his own problems because he has needs validation from fixing other’s problems. Steven is starting to develop depression and PTSD from his past and the trauma is manifesting and showing. It is not surprising he would go from a happy-go-lucky kid to a teenager suffering from trauma and not talking to others about his problem. He has been through so much as a child; learning about his mother’s identity and past, resolving conflict from his mother’s mistakes, fixing the Crystal Gem’s issues, heal corruption, almost killed multiple times, and restructuring Gem society. It would be shocking if he was still happy with his life, especially after the fight scene with Spinel. Despite being positive during conflicts, he usually pushes aside his own problems to fix others and it is starting to take a toll on him when there are no more problems to fix and he questions his worth. The Crystal Gems are trying to help him, but he cannot open to them because he must be Steven, savior of the galaxy, not Steven, a teen suffering from trauma and unwillingness to confront his past. Steven does have a support system and still has some of his positive traits but even so, he is denying his trauma and not looking for the help he needs. “Steven Universe: Future” shows that no matter one’s background, severity of trauma, personality, and resources, anyone can suffer from trauma. Trauma does not have to define who you are but how you deal with it does. Many suffer from guilt or shame of trauma due to stigma of specific people suffering trauma, comparisons of trauma, and personality traits determining who trauma affects. No one’s trauma should be invalidated but should be supported and treated as real. It’s okay to talk about it and to get help but the only way to do that is if the person suffering wants to get help. Rebecca Sugar and the Crewniverse have demonstrated the importance of recognizing that anyone can suffer from trauma and the best way to heal is self-awareness and accepting help from others.

This post was both difficult and exhausting to write. I was getting anxious a lot and had to take breaks writing this. It took a few days to write and get my thoughts in order before suddenly feeling uncomfortable and taking breaks. Below is a story/reason as to why I wanted to write this post. I cut it because it is really personal to share but I feel comfortable sharing it now. You don’t have to read it which is another reason why it is hidden. Just wanted to tell my story related to this post.

The reason I wrote this post was from the negative backlash from some fans expressed about Steven in “Steven Universe: Future” because of his behavior. Steven is dealing with trauma and an identity crisis and does not talk about it to the Crystal Gems or anyone else. Some fans critic this change in behavior because in “Steven Universe” he was always so positive and used communication to solve his problems. I was getting a bit distraught by this until one of my favorite theorists/reviewer/editor (will not name), tweeted about how Steven has been through a lot as kid, someone as positive as Steven can still suffer from trauma, and his current behavior is related to how he is dealing with losing his purpose and trauma. I cannot find the tweet as it was long ago, but it inspired me to make a post about how anyone can suffer from trauma. Even if the person is positive and has dealt with issues/situations in the past, trauma can change a person, especially ones who help others more then they help themselves and how to deal with certain situations.

I relate to Steven a lot throughout the series. Although Peridot is my favorite character, Steven from the original series, the movie, and the epilogue series, is the character I see myself. With “Steven Universe: Future” I can see myself in Steven even more, especially during my college years. Throughout my childhood I was always the positive child/teen who was able to make friends easily and not afraid to show who I am. I was not popular but lots of people liked me for some reason and I just rolled with it. I always liked helping others with their problems and it did not bother me as I liked being the friend who helped. My sophomore year, I started dating a girl online (I saw her on webcam before to see if she was real) and we clicked and started talking a lot. Things started to go well and my life seemed pretty good despite the stress of school.

About 5 years ago, something happened. I had a friend, let’s call him X, who I started reconnecting with. He was in the Marines and stationed in Japan so we mostly face timed when we could. X told me he was diagnosed with mild schizophrenia and was being discharged from the military. I knew he seemed a bit upset and I thought hanging out would cheer him up. At first, it seemed he was happy, and we mostly just stayed at my place and watched anime. However, X started to drink and exhibit weird behavior. The first time he drank in my apartment, he was yelling, clinging to me, and throwing stuff. A friend of mine came over and X threw a can at him which triggered my friend’s PTSD. The day after, I apologized to my friend and told X to not drink in front of me. About a week later he came over and started drinking again. His excuse was it was hard liquor this time and it makes him act different. Instead of being physically aggressive, he was emotionally aggressive. He talked about his troubles, thoughts, and feelings which shouldn’t be a bad thing. But it was a bit too much for me to where I started crying and he held me and said sorry. The next day I told him to seriously not drink the next time we meet. Around a couple months later, I get sick with a nasty head cold, but was going to an anime movie with X and two other friends. He came to my place a couple hours before the movie to prep but saw I was sick and took care of me. Everything seemed fine and we went to dinner and talked. Then he stepped outside for a long time and when he came back, he said he was talking to someone from the VA which is why it took so long. We get our seats for the movie and enjoying ourselves. Half way through the movie X starts spitting at random, questioning the logics of the movie in a rude manner, and being extremely clingy. We didn’t know why until we smelled alcohol from his breath and saw an opened lemonade bottle. Once we exited the theatre, X started yelling at my friend who was shielding me and throwing soda cans at random. My friend took me to her place, and I called his parents to pick him up before I called the police. The next day I texted him I could not be friends with him anymore because he broke my trust and he needed professional help. X texted back saying I did not want to deal with his problem making me a bad friend and just listening to my friend’s opinions instead of my own. He told me he was getting help but I was hurt by his words and decided to end our friendship because of his toxic behavior. I have not spoken to him for over 5 years now.

I was around 20 when this happened. I was comfortable telling my story about what happened, and that the decision was the right one and necessary. The truth was I felt guilty about what happened. I am the one who helps others before helping myself and cutting one of my good friends off and not helping him when he needed it most was making me depressed. I started going to bars with my friends less and had a strict role that there was no drinking in my place. But I suffered more from it. My apartment started to become a complete mess which attracted cockroaches and a smell so foul my neighbors in the whole complex could smell it. My diet consisted of take out and junk food which may be one of the main causes of gastritis a couple years ago. I stopped drinking and became the prude and boring of the friend group and I started isolating myself because I was no fun. I became distant with my partner and started having negative thoughts I never had before. I never told anyone about my problems because people would compare theirs to mine. I do have a privileged life and at a young age learned that other’s problems were far worse than I am, and my problems are nothing compared to theirs because I have it better. That comparison led me to keep my problems private and divert my feelings in a forced positive way. It was not until my fear of eviction and losing my cats did I start to ask for help. My friend helped me clean my entire apartment before inspection and lots of people reassured me that my problems mattered because they are my problems no matter the severity. I am a bit more open about my problems, but I can hide my emotions or brush it off. I am still working on that.

“Steven Universe” the franchise has helped me through a lot. The original series helped me connect with others and deal with my own problems. I was able to relate to the characters and some of my positivity came back. It even inspired me to both pursue psychological research and start drawing and poetry. However, I still felt guilty for cutting off my friend. Until “Steven Universe: The Movie” came out. After watching the movie and reading interviews, I felt a sense of relief. Seeing Steven trying to help Spinel multiple times despite her toxic behavior made me see the same incident that happened with X. Spinel realizing she is hurting the wrong person and deciding to heal on her own gave me something X never did: it was not my fault and sometimes the person has to heal themselves without you. I finally had closure on my guilt and was able to move forward. “Steven Universe: Future” I can relate to Steven more than anybody on the show right now. When hearing some negative backlash in the beginning of the series, it reminded me of people who thought my problems did not matter because of my privileged life and positive personality. Steven is bottling up his emotions and trauma like I did and it is affecting him. It is not until later in the series, do we see that his childhood was more traumatic then we realized and his affecting his actions and emotions in the present. Even Rebecca Sugar in an interview opened up about her trauma in the past that affected her in the present that inspired “Growing Pains”. I did the same and hardly opened up about my real feelings. I am even trying to get therapy for my issues and turning to my partner and friends for support. With people seeing Steven suffering from his trauma, I am hopeful it will let people know anybody can suffer from trauma and it can affect people despite background and personality. If you read my story thank you for reading and this is just my opinion on the show and story on a part of my life.

[rainydawgradioblog]

a covidsation with mary claire

For the first Covidsation for autumn quarter, here is an interview I did back in May with Mary Claire, my dear friend and one of my favorite local artists. Mary Claire is a singer-songwriter based here in Seattle who makes “sad girl rock” (see: Mitski, Angel Olsen, etc.). I first met them through the DIY scene and was lucky enough to book them at the finale Red Room show, a house venue I used to live at and help run. As evidenced by the picture below taken that very night, seeing Mary Claire play live is a magical, mesmerizing, captivating experience. Often accompanied with minimal, but tonally-rich instrumentals, their powerful and hauntingly stunning voice paired with visceral, poetic lyrics transport you into another realm. I *highly* recommend listening to their album Phantom Limb, which you can find on your streaming platform of choice or you can snag a physical copy at Everyday Music on the Hill like I did! Last month, they also just released an incredible stop-motion music video for their song off PL called “I Don’t Like Drinking”, directed, edited, and animated by Barb Hoffman, which you can find here! Thank you Mary Claire for these thoughtful responses and for creating such vulnerable, beautiful art <3

Lola Gil: Tell me about your project. How has it evolved? Which artists are you most inspired by? How would you describe your sound?

Mary Claire: Hi hi I’m Mary Claire. I was never someone who was playing music since they were a little kiddo, it was something I picked up my senior year of high school. But pretty much everyone in my family has some amazing and weirdly specific aptitude for music, so I think being surrounded by that kind of allowed me to gather an eclectic, personal understanding, appreciation, and internalized feeling for music, so I never really took lessons or anything like that. I enjoyed and still enjoy that from the start, I was okay with the fact that I didn’t know “academic” theory and I just played with what feels and sounds right. And I still do that. So I played around with all those youthful punk feelings and had an angsty band in high school that was not bad for small town Sacramento. I think I learned so much from that and it gave me a flood of unhindered and unhinged confidence for recording, performing, maneuvering stage mechanics and technicalities, etc. Also it introduced me into the world of songwriting that I did for that band and for myself that just immediately poured out of me, which led me to what I’m doing now. I am extremely lyrically-focused and write mostly about lived personal experience that I surrender to and make extremely overly-wordy. I went from a solo act, to a bigger full piece crunchier band, to me and a piano player, back to a solo set, so I’m really just kind of evolving with my resources, the songs I’m currently living in and playing, and with what would bring everything to life most fully. 

I’m inspired by everyone, even if I don’t necessarily sound like them or listen to them all the time. Like, my adoration for incredibly angry punk music is what got me started in the creation of my own music, so that foundation will never leave me. Even though I won’t sound like IDLES or Shame or Pissed Jeans, their point of view and their devotion to cramming so many words into one breath is a place I also come from. We execute similar feelings in different ways. And though I currently am not anything like Yves Tumor, King Krule, or FKA Twigs, the layers in their stuff sends me so far. But I think lyrically and melodically, I pull inspiration from and sink most into Mitski, Sasami, Angel Olsen, Palehound, Big Thief, Bella Porter, Darci Phenix, Fiona Apple, Sufjan Stevens, Izumi, and Weyes Blood. 

Someone once said my tunes are “sad girl rock” and I think that sticks in a fun, quick way, so that’s what I tell people. But more recently, the stuff on my upcoming album I think is like a sad, fucked up, incredibly fast-paced nursery rhyme book (lol). I’m really excited for this album I wrote, more than anything ever. Also my good friend and twin flame Francis is helping me record it and is giving me a lot of knowledge and challenges and affirmations and inspiration. I owe a lot of this second album’s production and complexity him. There are a lot more people involved in the recording of this one, so it’s a lot fuller in a new and exciting and scary way.

LG: As an artist, how have you been affected by the pandemic? I saw most of your tour you had booked was unfortunately cancelled-- are you planning on rescheduling?

MC: Rescheduling feels so completely beyond me right now, so I am just considering it to be cancelled until things in the world really start to settle down to some degree of safety and responsibility. However, the silver lining in all of this ‘rona stuff is that it has given me a ton of time to recenter myself with my music and devote my own energy into recording and feeling the core of my upcoming album. I think when the world is moving so fast, it’s easy for me to feel like I’m behind, like other people are getting shit done faster and in a more “impressive way”, in a way that matters more or has more inherent value. So when we are all forced to stay at home with ourselves, not only does it remind me that all of those insecurities are completely not real and are in fact a delusion borne from a capitalistic-productivity-equals-artistic-worth-framework, but I also get time to actually enjoy and fine tune what I otherwise might have just thrown out into the ether desperately and prematurely in hopes to be current and up to date and ~with it~.

LG: Have you been working on writing any new tunes? Have you been involved in any other creative projects recently?

MC: When I was recording Phantom Limb, I wrote the majority of my next upcoming album, so while those songs don’t feel incredibly new, there is a ton of stuff I have yet to share and that I am so eager to scream to the world. It feels like some of the stuff I am most proud of making in my entire life. 

But since I left for Berlin to study abroad last fall to when I came back to Seattle this January, I really hadn’t written anything new. I think I had been going through a lot of personal and immense change and hard growth that wasn’t particularly inspiring, it just sucked and was intense and necessary, but sometimes all that bad stuff is not something you can just make art out of. Plus I had to just do something totally different and invest and surrender to techno and being a gross city Eurotrash gremlin and let that out cathartically. But recently, I wrote my first super new song in what feels like ages, and I’m so happy. I was afraid maybe I’d forgotten how to do it, but it’s pouring out of me again and I feel like me again. I have also been working a bit back and forth with a friend from the project World Peace. We just keep sending clips back and forth and weaving our separate projects together a bit, which is something I’ve never done and I’m having a ton of fun, especially because our music is so different. Besides that, I have some plans to work with another good friend Izumi after having adored them the moment I moved here. 

LG: How have you personally been dealing with the pandemic and the craziness that is 2020? What has your quarantine experience been like so far?

MC: I went home to Sacramento for a month and watched more TV than I had probably in my entire life. It was really good to see my family and siblings who I miss so much. But I came back to Seattle in April and since then have just been spending my days in a limbo of online school weirdness. But I’m so fortunate that I live with so many people who are all so unique, all of whom I feel are my best friends. So I definitely don’t get too bored:)

LG: What music have you been listening to during quarantine? What has been your go-to isolation album?

MC: Okay to be honest, when I begin to think of my next album and what it feels like inside of me, I make one single playlist with like hours and hours of songs on it and it’s the only thing I listen to for like a year. So I’m prone to listening to the same stuff perpetually forever and always, but I think I’ve always sort of been like that. It makes the feeling familiar. But since I’ve felt close to the sounds of my upcoming album for a long while now, I’ve actually pretty much been listening to what is my ~album 3~ inspo playlist, because I already feel that beast growing inside of me. I’m a planner. 

Most of the artists on those playlists are the ones I listed above in regards to who I feel are my biggest inspirations. But right when quarantine started though I would pretty much only play Man Alive!, I would just go through the whole thing and then restart immediately. When I was in Sacramento, my family had a rule I could only play it with headphones because it was literally nonstop, that’s just how I consume things; I take a bath in them until I feel every single part of what was made. But other than that, I’ve been bumping Peter Campanelli’s Pesto Baby and crying a lot about it, Darci Phenix’s (my best bud from Sac) Juniper Street which is some of the best songwriting literally ever, and Francis Farmer’s Bruised Fruit which is SO expertly recorded and thought out, I am so lucky he is my friend and wants to record my upcoming album with me.

LG: Arethere any spring shows that you were particularly looking forward to attending that got cancelled?

MC: Pretty much all of them imaginable. 

LG: How do you think the Seattle music scene is going to be like post-COVID?

MC: Hopefully, this can recenter us and remind us we’re all really really and truly in this together. It’s up to us to lift each other up and get each other on bills and spread the word and create community for those who need it most and for those whose lives rely on this art. Seattle seems like it is really good at that on a small scale, but once it gets to a little bit larger stage, it’s easy for people to forget where they came from, who supported them, and what should be at the forefront of our radars. I think shedding this cool guy persona and getting back to why this shit is so important and listening to/PROMOTING smaller artists who are making The Best stuff is something everyone could be reminded to do. 

LG: In this funky era of social distancing, how do you think artists can support each other during these weird and difficult times? How do you think social media is facilitating and/or inhibiting connection within Seattle’s overall creative community?

MC: I think people’s ability to make what seemed like such an immediate switch to social media music promotion and shows was really amazing. However, it makes me feel a bit hopeless and dystopian and sci-fi in a weird way. That being said, trying to resist the change has only proven to be detrimental to me and kind has come back to kick me in the ass. Like, I should not be turning down opportunities just because livestreams kind of freak me out in how foreign and disconnected they can appear to be. I’m no better than them, and it’s important I think to accept things where they’re at instead of pretending they’re not happening. 

That being said, I think everyone has been maneuvering with such grace and empathy and compassion for others in a way that I can really feel, and I hope that sticks around forever. 

- Lola Gil

[nxghtfalls]

✧·ﾟ(  nyx + sean teale + cis male   ) 𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒂 !!  have you seen (  nicolas vogal  ) around ? (  he  ) has been in kaos for (   three weeks   ). the (  twenty-six year old  ) is a/an (  photographer  ) from (  london, england  ). people say they can be (  morose  ) but maybe that’s not too bad ‘cause they can also be (  steadfast  ). whenever i think of them, i can’t help but think of ( film photography developing in the darkroom, nights with a new moon, a worn out black jean jacket  ).  ·ﾟ✧

meet my sad son. he’s got that ~angsty~ backstory 

                                                     full bio | pinterest | playlist

TLDR; BIO — (tw: mentions of death, fire, burns, failed pregnancy, illness)

his father was an up-and-coming british politician and his mother was a grade school teacher. they’d had issues getting pregnant in the past, and once they started looking into adoption nicolas was born. they lived a happy life, and eventually adopted nicolas’ younger brother cassian a few years later. picnics in the park, “photo walks” where his father nurtured young nicolas’ love of photography, movie nights with popcorn, family dinners — they were the perfect picture of a family. 

it all came crashing down around them when their house caught fire in the middle of the night, trapping nicolas and cassian on the second story of the home. they were rescued, but nicolas’ mother died in the fire and his father died a few weeks later. nicolas sustained serious burns on his back, and his right shoulder and arm. 

nicolas and cassian went into the foster care system, where they stayed with an older couple in their home for 3 years. and then the wife fell ill and they couldn’t afford to care for nic and cas. unfortunately after that they were separated, they still text and message each other though. 

nicolas closed off completely after that, and only finds passion and joy in his career as a photographer. he stayed with another foster family for a while, went to community college and got his BFA in photography with a minor in photo journalism. 

he’s had a few jobs as a photographer (one for a news outlet, one for a travel agency) and has travelled all around the world for the latter. a year ago he visited kaos, greece and felt called to the island. he saved up money for the remainder of the year, and three weeks ago he moved to the island permanently. 

HEADCANONS —

he has such a Big personal bubble

and yet he’s touch-starved? try and figure that one out

he’s a cancer (they’re ruled by the moon i thought that was a nice homage to nyx)

very rarely goes by nic or nico, but likes when people do call him a nickname

insecure about his burns, mostly wears long sleeves and jeans

both because he doesn’t want other people to see them and because he doesn’t want to have to look at them

he often has headphones on — sometimes they’re playing music, sometimes he just uses them so people don’t talk to him

talk to him anyway he craves affection and attention he’s just Scared

absolutely oblivious, never knows when anyone is flirting with him

Can Not flirt. Disaster™

actually gets crushes really easily??

just…be vaguely nice to him and give him attention and he’s like “omg they’re cute–“ internally

wouldn’t ever do anything about it tho

his biggest way of “flirting”? asking for them to be in a photoshoot…

probably drinks too much

his brother is trying to get him to work on it

is so loyal once he lets you into his heart

…hasn’t let anyone in since he was a teenager

can you say self-isolation

absolutely has pity parties

sometimes they’re warranted, he went through something traumatic

but other times it’s because he’s lonely and it’s like

….duh, you did this to yourself

very intelligent!

pretty cultured, knows a lot about art and photography

doesn’t dress like it tho

would do Anything for his brother

they skype a lot

doesn’t make an effort to keep in touch with anyone else

calls the families that fostered him on holidays, that’s it

feels most at home at night

is that weirdo that likes to go for a midnight stroll

probably looks terrifying, wandering the streets at night taking pictures

WANTED CONNECTIONS —

A MODEL: occasionally, to pay the bills, he gets commissioned by a company to do a remote shoot with the greek island scenery. sometimes he may need a model or two (maybe even more!) they’d have a working relationship, but it’d be a great jumping off point for another type of connection! 

(EVENTUAL) BEST FRIEND: nicolas is a tough nut to crack... he’s stoic, broody, sarcastic, and prone to self-isolation. however, he’d thrive with a friend. especially one that kind of...forces their way into his heart?? sometimes introverts just have to be adopted by an extrovert. 

NEW NEIGHBOR: kind of generic, but he just moved to the island. he’s still getting the hang of everything. maybe they offered to show him around, or maybe they immediately got off on the wrong foot when he unpacked all of his stuff in the middle of the fucking night. regardless, there’s a chance for their relationship to grow from there. 

CRUSH: it’s silly, and he’d never admit to it, but he’s so starved for affection that it doesn’t take much for him to immediately develop a crush on someone who shows him the bare minimum of kindness/attention. it’s a fleeting thing, usually goes away quickly (usually) and mostly consists of nicolas having a harmless, wholesome daydream of having essentially a meet cute?? he’s v pure. 

DOG WALKER(S): nicolas can often be found taking his dog on walks throughout the day (and night, because he’s a weirdo) this could be a “hey we always see each other while walking out dogs” type of connection or a “hey i can walk your dog for you if you ever get busy” type of connection. 

[stokan]

Top 20 Things of 2018

1.) Beychella How do you make a long awaited surprise album between two of the biggest names in music that is also one of the year’s best feel like complete afterthought? Set the bar as high as Beyonce’s Coachella appearance.

First awards show performances, then music videos, now music festival gigs: is there anything that Beyonce CAN’T turn into high art?

2.) Explained by Vox The most exciting development in the world of television in 2018 was radically breaking the rules on episodes length. We saw 30 minute dramas, and hour long comedies. We got shows like Maniac where episodes were as long as 49 minutes and as short as 27 minutes. Now television creators can tell exactly the stories they want to tell in however much time they want to tell them in. And perhaps nowhere were these loosened restrictions taken better advantage than Explained, Vox’s documentary series for Netflix. Many topics cant sustain a full length documentary, but, say, 14 minutes explaining cryptocurrency to me? Sure! 17 minutes on designer DNA? Sounds great! 20 minutes on the origins of K-Pop? How do you say “yes please” in Korean? Every episode has a different narrator, a different look, a different feel, and varies wildly in subject matter. Yet they are all exactly the length they need to be. The only thing left I really need explained to me is why no one thought to make this series before.

3.) Serial Season 3 If Explained was a great example of the latest evolution in television, then the new season of Serial is at the front line of the evolution of our newest artistic medium: podcasts. Serial’s third season was nothing like its second, which was in turn nothing like its first. It’s a series still figuring out what it CAN be, while now defining forever what it NEEDS to be. Serial this year explained a deeply important topic in a way that wouldn’t have been possible through any other medium. They always say if you’re a writer you have to ask yourself what form of writing your idea needs to be. Don’t write a play that’s really a TV show, or a movie that should be a book. And now we can add to that don’t make a TV series that’s really a podcast. As Homecoming proved this year, the two mediums are very different and better equipped to tell different stories. And after hearing Serial Season Three I can’t imagine there will ever be a better way to explore the current American criminal justice system. It was 2018’s version of Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle. It may not change national food safety standards, but it hopefully will do something perhaps even more important: it will make us never again take lightly the election of local judges and sheriffs. It was a podcast for the heart, the head, and the time capsule.

4.) Black Mirror - “Hang the DJ” I know this technically came out December 29th 2017 but I’m counting it here because nothing was more 2018 than this. The sadness, the isolation, the uncertainty, the living in a world you don’t understand the rules of anymore, the unfairness of modern life, but the ultimate perseverance of hope and love: it’s all there in the best episode of Black Mirror’s third season. It made me cry out of sadness and happiness in equal measure. Could anything be more 2018 than that?

5.) Kesha at the Grammys Ok so maybe one thing was more 2018.

The Grammys, an organization led by Neil Portnow, a man who said this year that “women need to step up”, and an organization that didn’t offer its one female Album of the Year nominee a solo performance spot, also offered us 2018’s most powerful show of female solidarity and one of the most moving moments of the Me Too era. It all amounted to the perfect encapsulation of this year. Kesha scream crying and then collapsing into a sea of strong supportive women WAS 2018.

6.) Eighth Grade My favorite movie of the year was also the year’s best horror movie. It was so real, and visceral, and intense, and frightening that at times I literally had to remind myself to breathe. I watched at least half the movie through my fingers and on the edge of my seat. Proving what everyone who has lived through it already knows: there’s nothing in the world more terrifying than being in junior high.

7.) Big Mouth Speaking of junior high, the other side of the pain and trauma of growing up is humor, so why it took this long for someone to make a comedy series explicitly about puberty is beyond me. I guess, of course, making a show like this work is a fine needle to thread. It wouldn’t work without being animated and being on a streaming service that lets them go as far as they did. It wouldn’t work without writing that is both laugh out loud funny and deeply compassionate and human in equal measure. And it wouldn’t work without one of the best voice casts on TV, including a true tour de force from Maya Rudolph. But work does it ever. In a just world junior high health class homework would be simply watching this show.

8.) Emma Gonzalez speech Here’s how long 2018 was: this was from 2018.

Finishing off my personal 2018 Growing Up Trifecta is the most powerful 12 minutes of the year. That high school students could be more inspiring, articulate, and better leaders than the President of the United States is sadly, at this point, a given. But that they are now more effective and efficient than him at starting genuine political movements still feels revolutionary. The kids are our future, and our future has never looked brighter.

9.) Childish Gambino - “This is America” video 100 years from now if theres only one cultural artifact that still exists and is still remembered from 2018 this will be it. A “you know where you were the first time you saw it” level cultural event. No song will ever be more closely associated with its music video, and no music video will ever be more of an avatar for an entire cultural moment than this. THIS is, of course, a truly shocking and horrifying (in a good way) music video from the former fifth lead of the TV show Community. A profound and brilliant piece of art underscored by a fun-sounding dance song. The year’s most complex and important social-political message delivered in 4 minutes via YouTube. This is America indeed.

10.) Drake - “God’s Plan” video While Donald Glover may have perfected the music video as art form, it goes without saying that long ago Drake mastered the music video as promotional tool. And in that sense the music video for “God’s Plan” seems like minor failure. It seemed to sort of come and go from the culture, especially in light of the success of the In My Feelings Challenge. But for me, there was nothing more heartwarming and human this year than watching Drake give away almost a million dollars to strangers. It was an idea so simple it’s shocking no one had ever done it before. And so affecting I was shocked it didn’t seem to penetrate the public consciousness more. There’s so much going on at all times now it’s hard for anything to truly break through all the noise, but this really deserved to. It’s impossible to watch this without smiling, and is there anything 2018 needed more than that?

11.) Nanette The dumbest debate this year was whether or not Nanette was stand up. Form and genre aren’t delineators still worth discussing in 2018. It’s now only about the message and the messenger, everything else is just details. An important fresh voice, the most timely, and sadly, timeless message imaginable, delivered in a way that reached and deeply affected seemingly every person you knew? What is there to debate? Nanette may or may not be stand up comedy, but it’s definitely RISE UP comedy. And in the end, that’s all that matters.

12.) Amber Says What Please click on the link above. The final two minutes are by far the best comedy of 2018. It still makes me laugh so hard that it causes me physical pain. You’ve been warned.

13.) A Star is Born trailers A Star is Born is maybe a perfect film. The performances, the songs, the direction, the fact that there’s literally no human being on earth who could have played her part and made the movie work like it did other than Lady Gaga. It was all perfect. But there was actually something better than watching A Star is Born: anticipating watching a A Star is Born. Before the first A Star is Born trailer came out I thought the whole project sounded dumb and unnecessary. After I finished watching the first trailer I knew I was going to see A Star is Born opening night. True story: I was at a movie where the same A Star is Born trailer got played three times in a row for some reason. And it was riveting every time. There was no grumbling at all in the audience, and I for one was sad when it didn’t replay a fourth time. So as much as I loved A Star is Born what I would really love is be able to still want to see A Star is Born for the first time.

14.) Ariana Grande - “thank u, next” It’s genuinely impressive that a song released in November could be the song I listened to by far the most this year. Somehow it took less than two months for this song to feel completely ubiquitous. Hell, even the PHRASE “thank u, next” is omnipresent now. Forget Song of the Summer, this was maybe our first Song of the Winter. Which is perfect because has a hit pop song ever sounded more winter? It’s cold, but it keeps you warm. It’s the sadness of the holidays with the life reaffirming joy of the holiday season. It’s a sweater for you to wear on the dance floor. And it’s clearly exactly the song so many of us needed. No matter how many times I’ve heard it (and as I said, I’ve listened to it, uh, A LOT) its existence feels like a holiday miracle. Having a new and fresh take on the breakup song in the year 2018? That shit IS amazing.

15.) The proposal at the Emmys This is literally the only thing anyone remembers about this year’s Emmys. It was amazing, and special, and made anyone who watched it believe in true love. But for me it still cant touch the most heart-melting awards show moment of all time: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lCJrku4fSxk

(Was this whole entry just an excuse to link to one of my absolute favorite YouTube clips? Perhaps.)

16.) Succession When I saw the promos for Succession I literally made the sound UGH out loud. The last thing the world needs is another show about rich white people behaving badly, I thought. How could there possibly be anything original left to say on that topic? Who on earth is still greenlighting shows like this in The Year of our Lord 2018?

People much smarter than I am clearly, that’s who.

Because from writing, acting, production design, direction - whatever element you want to focus on - this was the best and most exciting new show of 2018 by a wide margin. People have been saying for years that TV is the new movies; this show made movies look like the old TV. It was the most vibrant and perfectly crafted big budget feature film of 2018, stretched out over 8 episodes on HBO. Did it have anything new and important to say about the world? Probably not. And turns out, I couldn’t have cared less. The phrase compulsively watchable might have been invented just to describe the world these actors and writers created. I would watch the team involved with this show dry paint. 

17.) Angels in America on Broadway Angels in America is the best play of the past 30 years and its not even close. So the fact that it would get a production that’s this good is just unfair for everyone else on this planet who makes theater. It was so good it made all other plays I’ve seen since seem small and cheap and unimportant. It was such a towering achievement that it has made the entire rest of theater as an art form seem insignificant by comparison. When you hear old people talk about seeing Brando in Streetcar or watching the original production of Death of Salesman I now can relate to what they are talking about. I’ll be thinking about Andrew Garfield’s final monologue for the rest of my life. It was unfair that we the audience had to all leave the theater when the lights finally came up and that we couldn’t all just live in that feeling forever. The eight hours I spent watching this play are what art is all about.

18.) Jesse Plemons in Game Night If dying is easy, and comedy is hard, then they should cancel the Oscars and give Jesse Plemmons Best Supporting Actor right now for his work in Game Night. And ok, maybe it wasn’t the BEST performance of 2018, but it was DEFINITELY the best performance relative to what it needed to be. It should have been a dumb throwaway part in a big-budget mainstream ensemble comedy. But Jesse Plemmons crafted a performance so strange and singular and memorable that it elevated the entire movie into something way better than I’m sure even its creators expected. I legitimately don’t know how everyone didn’t break in every one of his scenes. It’s a master class in the comedic power of silence. It should be studied in acting classes everywhere. And 20 years from now when Game Night is considered a comedy classic, Jesse Plemmons will be the main reason why. You heard it here first.

19.) The 1975 - A Brief Inquiry Into Online Relationships Saxophones? Electric guitar solos? Backing choirs? A concept album about being uncomfortable with the internet? Dumb pretentious song titles? This album couldn’t be any more in my wheelhouse if I made it myself. Its best song is basically a modern reimagining of “We Didn’t Start the Fire” for God’s sake!

For me this wasn’t just an album, it was an experience. It was big music to get lost inside of. And I did. At age 36 it’s nice to know that sometimes I can still feel 16. And it’s fitting that a band named The 1975 would be the ones to make music that’s so transporting.

20.) Emma Stone Ok so as someone who once argued in this very space that Emma Stone deserved an Oscar nomination for Easy A, it’s clear I’m pretty deep in the tank for Emma Stone. But even an Emma Stone hater would have to admit than this was a banner year for Emma Stone. Signing up for the insane acting challenge that was Maniac and completely acing it while totally exposing two-time Oscar nominee Jonah Hill in the process? Going toe to toe with Olivia Colman in the battle of the best acting performances of the year in The Favourite? Coming across as more charming than Jennifer freaking Lawrence ?!?

2018 was Emma Stone’s year, we were all just living in it.

[makeste]

“Cool motive; still adultery” (or, ITP: makeste rants about Gokudera’s stupid dad)

@natashawogver Haha, so this reply ended up being so damn long that I ended up doing it as its own post so that I could add a cut.

First, I can’t speak for everyone, but I’ve always assumed “Gokudera” was his mother’s surname rather than his dad’s, and the parts of fandom I’ve interacted with seem to concur, I think? But since Gokudera’s father never got a canon name, I use “Gokupapa” at times just to make it clear who I’m referring to without having to type out “Gokudera’s father” every time.

Anyway! I said in my answer to your previous ask that I could go on for days about this topic, and I probably will, so! Just... be warned, lol.

The thing is, it’s absolutely possible to take Bianchi’s statement at 100% face value. It was a misunderstanding. His parents really did love each other. His mom was sick and didn’t want to get attached to him (and vice-versa), so she limited her contact with him. His father was heartbroken and wanted to marry his mother, but she refused, thinking it would be better for everyone that way. Somehow this all got twisted around, and rumors about Gokupapa’s infidelity spread, but the rumors all missed out on the crucial points that (1) he actually was in love with her, and (2) that she did from her illness rather than under any suspicious circumstances. Fine. It’s possible; it checks out; there are letters proving this; TYL!Bianchi says this is the case. So fine, let’s assume this is what actually happened.

The thing is that if this really was how the events actually played out, in my opinion it not only does not redeem Gokudera’s father, it actually kind of makes him a bigger asshole than ever. And on top of that, it makes his mom kind of an asshole too. The manga tries to play off this revelation like it’s supposed to redeem Hayato’s parents, but in actuality, if this is all true, both of them were pretty irredeemably selfish, and their actions came very close to ruining Hayato’s whole life. So okay, let’s get into all of the reasons why they, in fact, suck.

First and foremost: Gokudera’s father cheated on his wife. This is indisputable no matter which version of events we go with. He was married with a young daughter, he had a mistress, and he got his mistress pregnant. “Yes, but he was in love!” Okay! Cool motive; still adultery! “But he was going to marry her!” Sure, but then he didn’t. Nor did he divorce his previous wife. In the end he wound up pretending Hayato was her son instead. I can’t imagine she was very happy about that. Shades of Catelyn Stark and Jon Snow, most likely, except that Ned was actually a decent guy, whereas we have no evidence at all that Gokupapa was anything other than a big sack of shit.

Gokudera’s mom! Lavina! Let’s talk about her. First of all, it’s clear that whatever else, she genuinely did love her son dearly. She died before he was even three years old, and by all accounts only ever visited him a handful of times, and yet he still has deeply affecting memories of her more than a decade later. For her to have had that much of an impact on him in just that short amount of time, she must have been absolutely radiating love for him on each and every one of those visits. She’s a saint in his eyes. He loves her and misses her even though he barely knew her. I absolutely won’t argue that she didn’t love him, because all evidence says otherwise.

But -- she abandoned him. Because she thought it would be best for him, supposedly, but still. She left him with his father and basically surrendered all responsibility for him, and gave up the few short years that they could have spent together. She denied him the chance to get to know her, and minimized what seems to have been one of the few bright spots of his childhood. And by turning down Gokudera’s father (even though we’re led to believe they were in love), she ensured that her son would never have any hope of being seen as legitimate, something that ends up making his life fairly miserable later down the line.

So to sum, Gokudera’s mom = loving, but absent. As for Gokudera’s father, his infidelity is only one small aspect of his being a piece of shit! 

Let’s talk for a second about Gokudera’s childhood. By all accounts, he grew up desperately lonely. It’s clear that he and Bianchi were very isolated growing up. They don’t appear to have any friends, and they were tutored at home. It’s also fairly clear that Hayato was not receiving anything in the way of paternal affection, judging by how totally enamored he was of Shamal, idolizing him and seeking his approval and going so far as to imitate his hairstyle. Look, Shamal isn’t exactly a tender or affectionate guy. He’s mostly just an asshole! On the few occasions that he does show any type of caring toward Hayato, it’s always in the most gruff and indirect ways possible. So for this guy, as aloof as he is, to be receiving that level of reverence and admiration from this six or seven-year-old boy speaks volumes about just how starved Hayato was for any type of kindness or attention. It means that he had no one else. Maybe he wasn’t suffering from any physical abuse yet at this point, but there was absolutely neglect. And you can tell this left scars on him that he’s still struggling to deal with even as a teenager.

So now, let’s talk about the actual abuse. Poison cookies! All right, so before I start in with this, I just want to make it clear that I don’t blame Bianchi for any of it. As I’ve said before, I truly believe that she didn’t (and still doesn’t) understand the damage she actually did. She loves her little brother and her cooking was made with love; how could it possibly hurt him? There’s a lot of inherent tragedy there, because this ends up forcing the two of them apart, and up until that point, Bianchi had really been the only loving presence in Hayato’s life from what I can see. And she still doesn’t understand what caused the rift between them.

Because this was all first revealed back during the Daily Life arc, it was all played up for comedic effect, and so it wasn’t ever examined too closely. We’re not really meant to think on it too much. But later on when the manga does become serious, and more events from Hayato’s past are revealed that absolutely are serious and tragic and treated with gravity and solemnity, it gets harder to ignore the tonal whiplash. You kind of do have to go back and look at the whole poison cooking thing again, this time from a more serious standpoint. And when you do, it’s pretty damn fucked up.

Basically, Hayato was poisoned on a regular basis for two whole years. It was painful and traumatizing to the point where just the memory of it physically affects him years later. And the one responsible for making all this happen in the first place? Dear old dad. After the bizarre “success” of that first disastrous concert, Hayato is forced to eat his sister’s cookies before every single performance. His dad fucking forced him to eat poison for fucking entertainment! Like, it’s such an insanely over-the-top tragedy that that itself is the joke. It’s so absurd and so out of the blue that it’s hilarious. Or at least it is in the original context when we first get this reveal all the way back in chapter 10.

But as the manga’s tone gradually sobers up and matures, Gokudera’s role in the series shifts from “hotheaded whipping boy whose hypertragic past can be exploited for comedic purposes” to “deeply-insecure-yet-determined character whose genuinely awful past can be milked for lots of angst.” Conveniently enough, the series never revisits the whole poison cooking story once this shift takes place, but what we do get is a brand new backstory in which Gokudera despises his father because he believes that he had his mother killed. 

Let’s repeat that: Gokudera believes that his father murdered his mother. Whether or not this is actually true or not almost doesn’t matter, because the fact remains that Hayato believed this story without question from the moment he first heard it. It means there was absolutely no doubt in his eight-year-old mind that his father was capable of that. And small wonder that he wouldn’t doubt it, because this is a man who first neglected him and then later went on to abuse him. Because that’s what the poison cooking thing is, in this revised context: abuse. Full stop. There is absolutely no other way to look at it. 

So yeah! It’s pretty safe to say that a man who was capable of that would also have been capable of callously killing a woman just to cover up his own indiscretions. He doesn’t exactly have a lot going on that would make one want to give him the benefit of the doubt.

But again, canon later swings around and says this was all just a misunderstanding. He didn’t kill Lavina, and Gokudera was in fact “born into this world loved by both of his parents.” To add onto that, TYL!Bianchi tells Gokudera all this while also observing that she “doesn’t expect him to understand right now.” The implication is almost that Gokudera is somehow the one who’s been in the wrong this whole time, and he’s been unfairly assuming the worst about his dad, and judging him without fully understanding the situation.

This. Is. Bullshit. And it’s where I take the most umbrage with regards to this entire thing. Because here’s the final bit of evidence that Gokudera’s dad is The Absolute Worst, and it’s probably the most damning of all: he lets Hayato run away. He lets him leave, and there is no evidence at all that he ever made any kind of attempt to go after him and bring him home. This is an eight-year-old child, who up until this point has grown up in a fucking castle, and who has absolutely no knowledge of the real world whatsoever. He went from fairy tale levels of wealth to literally living on the street. Anything could have happened to him. Probably a hell of a lot did happen to him that will never be fully examined, because this was a manga aimed at kids and young teenagers, and also it ended back in 2012 lol. But it’s not hard to imagine. Even assuming the most G-rated version of events possible -- say, in a world where drugs and human trafficking and violent street crime somehow aren’t a thing -- he’s still homeless, and all alone. We know from canon and from the light novels that he basically just drifted from place to place. 

In the opening section of his light novel story Bakudan Bambino, he wakes up after getting himself knocked out in a brawl to find that a good samaritan has taken him in and bandaged up his wounds. He is incredibly confused by all of this, but it’s not the fact that he was knocked out and woke up in a strange place that confuses him. It’s the fact that he didn’t wake up bleeding in an alley somewhere, but that instead some guy he didn’t even know helped him out for absolutely no reason without expecting anything in return. Hayato is at such a low point in his life at this stage that he literally can’t conceive of someone actually doing that, because he’s spent the past four years having it repeatedly hammered into his head that people aren’t like that, and the world isn’t like that. He has issues. He is miserable. Later in the novel, when he asks that same good samaritan guy why the hell he keeps helping him out, the man answers that it’s because Hayato’s eyes always seem to be saying ‘help me.’ Basically, in those four years he’s been through absolute hell, and the entire fucking time he’s been suffering through it completely and utterly on his own.

But here’s the thing -- he was eight years old when he left. He had no plan whatsoever, no fucking idea what the hell he was doing. You can’t tell me he could have possibly made it very far, at least at first. Where the hell could a stupid little eight-year-old kid with no money or transportation or anything possibly could have gone that his father, a man with a ton of resources and wealth, wouldn’t have been able to track him down? He wasn’t laying low; we know for a fact that he attempted to join a number of other mafia families, only to be turned down by all of them because they didn’t want a spoiled rich brat, or “a half-breed.”

This all goes to show that they knew who he was, though. It’s not a secret. All his father would have had to do was put the word out that Hayato had gone off on his own and that he would be very grateful (in the $$$ sense) to anyone who could aid him in tracking him down and returning him. This is assuming that he couldn’t have just had his own men do it. Basically, there’s no way that Hayato successfully manages to run away and not be found unless his father actually didn’t want to find him.

And when you think about it like that, then it does start to make more sense. From the start, Gokudera’s father never shows any kind of attachment to him, and is content first to ignore his existence, and then to later on actually have him poisoned for laughs. Best case scenario, he doesn’t care about him one way or the other. Worst case, Hayato is actually a thorn in his side and he’s happy to be rid of him. Because he is still illegitimate, after all, and who knows what kind of political troubles that could end up causing as he starts to get older. And there’s a good chance that Hayato’s stepmother, Bianchi’s mother (who is never once mentioned throughout the entire series but who does, one has to assume, exist) isn’t particularly fond of Hayato and never has been. So really, who even cares if he runs away, then? In the long run it’s probably for the best. So rather than showing even the slightest bit of concern over his son’s safety and well-being, he just lets him run away and apparently disregards the matter entirely. Just abandons him to whatever might happen out there, and good riddance.

And this -- this is why I can’t swallow the whole “your parents loved you and each other” thing at the end of the day. Because even supposing that the latter part is true, the former absolutely is not. It can’t be. And it bothers me so much, because it’s like, so are we supposed to get the impression that Gokudera’s dad is just a misunderstood guy who was only ever trying to do his best, then? Because if not, why even bring any of this up? Is this supposed to be a cathartic revelation for Gokudera, to realize that not only is his dad a dick who never gave a shit about him, but that his mom, too, played a part in how these events all turned out, and that it was her choice not to ever see him? How the fuck is that supposed to make him feel better about the whole situation? In the end it somehow just makes it all end up being even more of a huge clusterfuck.

Lol oh my god. So that’s pretty much all of my thoughts on the matter. As you can see, I still have very strong opinions about all this, and I still haven’t gotten over it after all this time, to the point where I actually wrote a fic that partially revised Gokudera’s backstory just so I could resolve it all in my own mind in a way that actually felt satisfying to me. (The link is here, incidentally, and I really have some nerve linking to that considering that I still haven’t finished the epilogue for it yet. But I guess I have no shame lol.) It’s probably the single most infuriating thing in the entire series for me. I should probably chill out just a little, but! He’s my goddamn son. It’s like you said: I love everything about him too, lol. So for his sake, I will always be mildly enraged over this two-page plot point that occurred ages and ages ago and then never came up again.  (︶▽︶)b

[onihanas]

STUDY    :    ZAKURO .    tagged by the lovely @lotusword thank you !!

—    BASICS.

▸     IS    YOUR    MUSE    TALL    /    SHORT    /    AVERAGE ? Average ! Zakuro is 5′2″ which is a fairly normal height for a Japanese woman.

▸      ARE    THEY    OKAY    WITH    THEIR    HEIGHT ? She really doesn’t think about it much. It doesn’t hinder her in combat due to her ability to leap to great heights but she does notice it when she’s around someone who is much taller than her. She certainly doesn’t like feeling small so she is a bit more irritable around people of above average height. 

▸      WHAT’S    THEIR    HAIR    LIKE ? It’s a very deep violet that is usually perceived as black in lowlight. As for the length it varies depending on Zakuro’s form. When she ascends to her divine state her hair seems to grow instantaneously, reaching her upper thighs, but usually it rests at her mid-back.  Typically she wears it up in twin tails tied with bows but when she is concealing her ears on a mission she either wears it in one large ponytail or two buns. Wearing it down is a rarity so don’t hold your breath she really only does so when she’s going to sleep.

▸     DO    THEY    SPEND    A    LOT    OF    TIME    ON    THEIR    HAIR     /    GROOMING ? A fair amount of time but it’s never excessive. Zakuro takes baths frequently, as for her daily routine she doesn’t typically wear makeup so really she only spends a bit of time tying up her hair. This process takes a bit longer if she is trying to pass as human and needs to comb her hair over her ears and then tie them down. 

▸      DOES   YOUR   MUSE   CARE   ABOUT   THEIR   APPEARANCE   /   WHAT    OTHERS    THINK ? Hanyou do not frequently interact with people outside of the Ministry of Spiritual Affairs. That being said there really is no need for Zakuro to fuss about her appearance. Even so, Zakuro seems to gravitate towards more traditional clothing despite being given the option to dress herself in a more Western style. On special occasions she does clean up well, this is due to the fact that she is a youkai so blending into a crowd is beneficial for her safety and being underdressed only draws more unwanted attention.

—    PREFERENCES.

▸      INDOORS    OR    OUTDOORS ?     outdoors, either in the forest or a garden. ▸      RAIN    OR    SUNSHINE ?        rain. ▸     FOREST    OR    BEACH ?      forest. ▸      PRECIOUS    METALS    OR    GEMS ?      precious metals. ▸     FLOWERS    OR    PERFUMES ?     flowers. ▸     PERSONALITY    OR    APPEARANCE ?      personality. ▸     BEING    ALONE    OR    BEING    IN    A    CROWD ?     being alone. ▸     ORDER    OR    ANARCHY ?     order. ▸      PAINFUL    TRUTHS    OR    WHITE    LIES ?     painful truths. ▸     SCIENCE    OR    MAGIC ?     magic. ▸      PEACE    OR    CONFLICT ?     peace. ▸     NIGHT    OR    DAY ?     night. ▸      DUSK    OR    DAWN ?     dusk. ▸     WARMTH    OR    COLD ?     warmth. ▸     MANY   ACQUAINTANCES    OR    A    FEW    CLOSE    FRIENDS ?     few close friends. ▸     READING    OR    PLAYING    A    GAME ?      playing a game.

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    OF    YOUR    MUSE’S    BAD    HABITS ? She has a short-fuse and can be quick to judge at times. Ultimately, Zakuro has a lot of pent up anger between her abandonment as a child and her isolated upbringing. She did not have a real family till she was brought the ministry and even then she felt like an outsider due to her unexplained powers. She is getting better at trusting others but it’s still difficult for her to let go of her past.

▸      HAS    YOUR    MUSE    LOST    ANYONE    CLOSE    TO    THEM ?      HOW    HAS    IT    AFFECTED    THEM ? Yes, Zakuro actually believed herself to be abandoned by both her mother and father at a young age which is customary where half-spirits are concerned. Most families abandon their children immediately after they are born but Zakuro actually was raised by her mother for a few years before her final disappearance. This instilled a deep-set fear of abandonment within her as well as a constant need to feel accepted by others. As a child she was unwanted and unloved so in a way she is constantly seeking validation whether it be in her abilities as a fighter or helping other girls who were spirited away as well. Of course, later on Zakuro finds out her mother never abandoned her willingly and she was actually a divine oracle from a far-off village. Zakuro being the illegitimate child of her and human man was a child who was never supposed to be born. This realization comes with a whole other set of issues but MOVING ON.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    FOND    MEMORIES    YOUR    MUSE    HAS ? The few short years she spent with her mother she cherishes the most but her life after she was brought to the ministry held a great deal of happiness for her as well. While Zakuro still felt isolated from the human world growing up alongside Suskihotaru, Bonbori and Hozuki made her feel less alone as the three girls are all orphaned youjin. Time spent with her guardian, Kushimatsu also are dear memories to her despite how harsh the older fox spirit could be to her. Overall Zakuro has known great unkindness in her life but she can now share that same burden with those that have led similar lives which makes the pain of the past more bearable.

▸     IS    IT    EASY    FOR    YOUR    MUSE    TO    KILL ? Yes and no. Zakuro’s job at the ministry revolves around slaying evil spirits and demons which she does without a second thought. When killing humans she might show some hesitation but if their intentions are unsavory she will not stop herself from striking them down.

▸      WHAT’S    IT    LIKE    WHEN    YOUR    MUSE    BREAKS    DOWN ? The anger usually hits first. Whether it is anger at someone, something, or most likely herself. She really likes to keep it together, to seem strong and put together but sometimes she cannot keep it all in. She’ will cry, she will yell but when things are more severe the tears flow without end and she needs to ground herself. It can be the touch of a hand or an embrace but when she is in that head space she needs to know she is not alone. Real true turmoil results in ascending to her divine form. Zakuro has no control over that part of herself which is why she can only slip into this state after undergoing a tragedy or something equally as emotionally taxing. In this heightened state she completely shuts down. She is emotionless and the only way she returns to normal is after the power flowing through her runs its course. Although, there is some suspicion that if Zakuro spends too much time in her divine form she will lose all her mortal memories and emotions, completely leaving behind her former self.

▸      IS    YOUR    MUSE    CAPABLE    OF    TRUSTING    SOMEONE    WITH    THEIR    LIFE ? It is possible but it takes time and A LOT of effort. Zakuro is natural suspicious of other peoples’ intentions with her thus it makes it difficult for her to trust much less put her life in someone’s hands. She is not someone that is easy to get to know simply because she is so used to humans wanting nothing to do with her so she automatically assumes the worst. That being said if you do stay by her side long enough Zakuro proves to be an incredible loyal friend. She has a caring nature that is unexpected but truly limitless when it comes to those that she loves.

▸      WHAT’S    YOUR    MUSE    LIKE    WHEN    THEY’RE    IN    LOVE ? Oh boy, basically she is a mess ? At least in the beginning stages she is when the feelings are new and she is not really sure what is happening. I don’t think she gets any less snappy around the person she loves if anything they get the full force of her sass because she knows they can take it and dish it back. On the more tender side of things Zakuro is someone who will fight for her lover whether it be on or off the battlefield. She is an extremely passionate person and that aspect of her personality bleeds into her relationships. Despite this she rather her relationships be on the more private side. While there may be a few lingering glances and handholding in public Zakuro prefers to be more intimate when she’s alone with her partner. So in the end not much changes when in love but she is EXTREMELY protective of her significant other regardless of how strong they may be on their own. Her fear of abandonment only heightens when she’s in a relationship so you’ve been warned.

TAGGING: @calamitycutlass , @tigurijiayo , @spacefell , and whoever else wants to !