#it's hard to explain but i feel like my early teen years were a constant cycle of 'giving my life to christ'

[wild-at-mind]

I think I figured out a while ago that the part of being raised Evangelical Christian that fucked me up the most was the aspect that your thoughts are constantly being monitered by god. A close 2nd was the very commonly expressed idea that giving your life to god would make you very happy, with the underlying idea that if you were unhappy then god did not love you.

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

ttwt episode 2

“Last time, on Total Takes World Tour: seventeen teens competed in a marathon to the finish line… on an active volcano! Three teams ran across Mexico to reach the mouth of Popocatepetl and sacrifice their respective obsidian artifacts to the fire god, but not all went smoothly. In the end, Scruffy “sacrificed” their team’s win and let the Yaois slide to victory. Who will take home the gold next time? And who will be taking the drop of shame? Find out now, on Total Takes World Tour!”

Despite its luxury accommodations, plush seats, 24/7 fine dining, and all the perks and prizes, no one in first class is sleeping this morning. 

The night prior was rough for first class. Or, rather, one person- Joner’s constant whimpers of fear every time Ass made eye contact with him, music from the aforementioned’s earbuds audible from anywhere in the cabn, Julia’s constant sleep mumbling, and the light from Mal’s- who, as it turns out, only sleeps for about two hours and forty five minutes every night- phone kept Courtney wide awake. 

---

COURTNEY: “My parents both traveled a lot for work growing up, so I’d be left at home for weeks at a time. I’m used to total silence and darkness- the woods at Wawanakwa were one thing, but this? This is torture,”

---

“Well, that was refreshing!” Ass says, removing their sleeping mask and tossing it in the garbage. Courtney watches the bin, eye bags heavy, and makes a low groaning noise. “What?” Ass asks. “They’re disposable. My dad got them in Hong Kong.”

“OMG, is that like skincare?” Mal asks from where she’s nested on the floor. “I looooove eastern Asian skincare, I import all my products straight from Tokyo. North American lines are full of chemicals.” she states, matter-of-factly.

“What are Japanese ones?” Julia asks, rolling her eyes. “Mother Nature's piss?”

“They’re organic, duh. They’re like rice and stuff. Everything’s just better in Japan,” Mal sighs dreamily. 

Ass and Julia both raise their eyebrows and Courtney passes out, slumping forward onto the ground. 

---

Economy is quiet this morning as the losing teams slumber peacefully. Only one person is up by now, tiredly watching the rest of the teens sleep in. 

Michela yawns and balances her chin in the palm of her hand while slouching forward. The cabin is quiet, and only the faint hum of the engines is audible over the snores and whistles of her sleeping castmates. 

“Light sleeper?” a tired voice asks. 

Michela shrugs. “More like early riser. You’re up, though?”

“This is about the time I get up for work,” Albert explains, slowly gesturing. “I can’t say my body feels the same, though.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, this isn’t exactly the nicest place to sleep in,” she says, kicking back and leaning against the metal walls of economy. “What do you do for work?”

“I run the Toronto Environmental Coalition,” he says. “It’s a volunteer advocacy group. We get donations to protect the environment. Prevent new land being developed, stage protests and boycotts. That sort of thing.”

“Oh, right. You did that… thing, with Chris,”

He pauses, the smile momentarily dropping off his face. “I suppose I did,”

“Hey, man, no hard feelings from me. Chris is slippery. I’ve heard he’s been in and out of jail for years,”

“Yeah, he’s been arrested a few times before. That was a part of my case file,” Albert says, looking off into the distance. “I swear I had enough evidence to keep him in jail this time. But it was… I don’t know, a cruel twist of fate,” he pauses again. “And now I’m here!”

Michela nods. “And now you’re here,”

Across economy class, Bonnie begins to wake with a long, drawn-out yawn and a stretch, and the conversation dies down. 

“GOOOOOD MORNING, PLAYERS!” Chris’ voice blares over the intercom, startling everyone else awake. “Meet me down in the galley in five!”

---

The tired campers line up around the metal picnic table bolted in the center of the room, yawning and stretching. Courtney is asleep on the cold surface, no one caring to wake her. 

“Heh, jet lag?” Chris asks, staring at the fallen soldier. “You guys look like you got hit by a bus.”

The teens grumble indistinctly, but Chris ignores them anyway. “I hope you’re all ready for some banging barbeque and technological advancements that’ll make you feel like you’re in the stone age back home- welcome to Seoul, South Korea!”

Mal squeals loudly, clapping her hands. 

---

MAL: “I love love love love LOVE eastern Asian culture. I’m actually fluent in Japanese and learning Korean, and I’ve been begging my mom to take me but she says I would “embarrass her”, whatever that means. Plus, South Korea is basically just like Japan!”

---

“I’ll be giving you the know-how on your next challenge once you hit the ground,” Chris says, smiling brightly. 

Ass crosses their arms. “That’s a weird way to put it,”

“Not really. In traditional World Tour fashion-” Chris pauses, looking around, and then sighs. “You know, I’m starting to miss that little highlighter. Anyway, in traditional World Tour fashion… Chef, care to do the honors?”

Chef grins and kicks the landing door open, sucking everyone but he and Chris out. The host grins. “Man, these lead shoes were a great investment,”

---

The teens scream as they fall to their deaths over Seoul, flying through the air as the plane becomes a distant speck in the sky above them. Between their shrieks of horror, a familiar bell rings out. 

“Really?!” Ass shouts. “Now?!”

The bell rings again as if affirming, and the cast groans. 

“You know, you’d assume we’d do an Asian themed song,” Mal says, crossing her arms. “As a master in Japanese culture, I find this highly offensive.”

“What’s your deal?” Staci asks sharply. 

The bell rings again, louder. Chris’ voice rings out. “Less talky, more singy!”

Courtney- barely awake- sighs. “We’re singing as we’re falling!”

“And totally not stalling,” Julia picks up.

Joner screeches as he falls between the two. “As we’re about to inevitably die-ie-ie!” 

“We might just end up smushed and gooey!” Patrick sings with glee. 

“Emulsified and ew-ey!” Ass shouts. 

Everyone joins in: “We should’ve done more before Chris lost his mind!”

The teens look between each other nervously and then pick up the song again. 

“Millionaire!” Julia shouts. 

“Derby champion!” Michela picks up. 

“Make it home to see Caesar!” Bonnie yelps (and then promptly rolls their eyes at everyones Aws). 

“Save the whales!” Albert goes on. 

“Marry Jungkook!” Mal screams.

“Serve my Lord and savior Jesus!” Frollo states, matter-of-factly. 

“Research psychologist!” Max says. 

“Media apologist!” Phillip continues. 

“Get my degree and my first kiss!” Staci shouts. 

“Connoisseur!” Patrick shouts back. 

“Design couture!” Kelly says merrily. 

“And I think we’d all like to outlive Chris!” Ass says. Everyone shouts in agreement. 

“But we gotta stop from splatting, the ground doesn’t have padding!” Bonnie shouts. 

“And it’s getting closer every time we close our eye-eyes!” Austin screams. 

“Flat into little pancakes!” Sha-Mod adds. 

“Our bones about to bre-ak!” Joner whimpers. 

“There are much better ways to die!” Courtney says. 

“We'd really rather fly-y!”

“So let’s hope Chris is willing to provide:”

Frollo: “A pair of wings!”

Austin: “A jetpack!”

Max: “A wormhole!”

Bonnie: “A parachute!”

Kelly: “Waterbed?”

Staci: “Trampoline!”

Julia: “Airlift!”

Ass: “Time rift!”

Joner: “Trapeze net!”

Sha-Mod: “A dragon!”

Joner: “Wait, I change to dragon, too!”

Mal: “A hot Korean guy!”

Courtney looks down at the ground below them and sighs. “A giant bowl of rice?”

“There’s a million things to do, a millions things to do, a million things to do before Chris lost his mind!”

The free fall ends as the campers land in a giant bowl of rice. Courtney sighs. “Real creative,”

“OMG, Asian cuisine!” Mal says, her head popping up out of the rice. “Did you guys know that most Canadian restaurants don’t actually serve authentic food? Yeah, it’s totally westernized.”

Staci rolls her eyes. "Yeah, okay,"

"You're just jealous of my knowledge," Mal insists. "What's your problem?"

"I'm Japanese!"

Mal blinks. "Um... you don't look Japanese,"

"Well... I'm half Lebanese, but still. You're such a freak!"

"You're the freak!"

“Glad to see you all made it to the ground safely,” Chris winks as the teens begin climbing out of the bowl. “Welcome to Seoul!”

The camera zooms out to show the bowl of rice in the middle of a busy metropolitan area. Chris chuckles. “Your challenge today is a favorite pastime of Koreans-”

“OMG, are we doing a K-Pop challenge?” Mal squeals. “Or is it related to fashion- or beauty? I buy all my contacts from South Korea!”

Chris’ brow furrows in annoyance and he gives Mal a few more seconds of talking time before he slams his side into her, throwing her across the pavement. The Yaois sigh in relief and Staci salutes. “That’s better,” he says. “Anyway, as I was saying, today’s challenge is a favorite pastime of many Koreans, and was even licensing professional players of this popular sport back in 2000.”

“Wow, right before 9/11!” Joner says. 

“Is that how you Americans really measure time?” Chris sighs. “Yes, before 9/11. Now, as I was saying-”

“Is it going to be contact-heavy, because my doctor told me I shouldn’t sustain any wrist injuries,” Staci says, flexing their wrists. “For typing.”

“If you’ll listen-”

“Move out of the way, wimps,” Patrick barrels through to the front of the crowd and flexes his muscles. “I was made for sports.”

“SHUT IT!” Chris shouts, forcing everyone silent. He coughs, brushes off his shirt, and speaks. “Today’s challenge is all about esports- AKA, competitive gaming.”

Most of the teens groan, with the exception of one- Bonnie whoops and hollers. 

---

BONNIE: “Finally, something I know I can do,”

---

“Music to my ears,” Chris wipes away a fake tear at the sound of the teens’ misery. “If you’ll follow me, we’ll get you all set up.”

---

Chris throws open the doors to a massive stadium, earning some oohs and ahs from the contestants behind him. “This will be your playground for today. Now, esports are taken very seriously in South Korea, so let’s be cautious not to say anything offensive,”

The teams walk behind him as they enter the arena, looking at the thousands of empty seats. Ass elbows Mal in the ribs. “You’d better bring your a-game, miss Asia,”

Mal grins. “You can count on me!”

Chris leads them up to the stage, where a few long tables have been set up with PCs. “This is your first leg of the challenge- the classic multiplayer,” he says. “You and your teams will be competing in a MOBA- a multiplayer online battle area.”

“In traditional MOBAs, there are two teams, but we’ve added three just for kicks. Every contestant will have a class rank that’ll either help or hinder your team, depending on how you wanna use it,” Chris grins. “The last team base standing wins an advantage for the next part of the challenge. Ready your computer and headsets!”

The teens begin taking their seats, most looking relatively unsure of the circumstances. Frollo prods at his computer with the end of his Bible. “What is this strange beast?”

“Okay, don’t tell me you’ve never seen a computer,” Michela says, pulling out her chair. 

“I dare not touch it. I only see such wonders at unholy places. Like CVS,” 

“It’s, um, powered with the light of God,” she says, leaning over and turning on the PC. The screen flashes white. “See?”

He rolls his eyes. “I cannot use this. Bring me an abacus,”

Michela turns to Albert with an exasperated expression. He shrugs. “We can carry with five players,”

Over at the Yaoi table, things aren’t looking much better. Julia seems to be setting into the computer functions just fine, while everyone else is hovering around Mal. 

“What are the ranks and which is the best one?” Ass demands.

“How do I move?” Courtney asks softly. 

“Why are the graphics good? They’re scaring me!” Joner whimpers. 

“Just GIVE me a second to figure it out!” Mal snaps, trying to turn on her own PC.

Ass glares. “I thought you knew everything about this place,”

“I do! I’m just having technical difficulties!”

Ass rolls their eyes and Courtney yawns. 

---

“Your goal today is to protect your own base and destroy your enemies,” Chris explains, pacing back and forth between the players. “You must work together as a team.”

Bonnie adjusts their headset and speaks into the mic. “Okay, listen up, everyone: I can see my rank at the bottom of the screen, and I want everyone to tell me theirs when you find it,”

“I’m, uh, support!” Kelly says. 

“Healer!” Staci chimes in. 

Max sighs very loudly. “Mage,”

“Tank- perfect, suits me just right,” Phillip says, kicking back in his seat before falling backwards. 

“I’m a fighter,” Bonnie goes on, ignoring the commotion. “Okay, Max and I will focus on trying to destroy Team Mojo’s base- they’re the weakest team.” they say, looking up at Frollo scooch back in his seat, away from the computer. “Kelly, I want you and Phillip to defend our base. Staci, stay with them, but keep alert, we might need you.”

Phillip frowns. “Aw, why can’t I-” 

“No,” Bonnie says bluntly. He sulks. 

---

“So… what’s our gameplan?” Courtney asks Ass. 

They shrug. “Ask Miss International,” 

Courtney turns to Mal, who’s starting to look nervous trying to navigate her PC.

---

MAL: “Okay, food? Yes. Movies? Totally? I LOVE manga and K-Pop. But gaming? Um… not really my thing!”

---

“Ready, players!” Chris says. No one responds. “Set? Go!”

“Um… okay,” Michela says. “I’m a healer. You guys?”

“Support,” Albert says. “Anyone get a better rank?”

“This ain’t fair, baby- I’m a lover, not a fighter!” Austin pouts. Patrick rolls his eyes. “Well, I got bruiser. And I’m not afraid to take a few hits.” he chuckles. “Hey- Hey- wait!”

Patrick rapidly clicks his mouse as his character is almost instantly killed. He stands and swipes his PC off the table with a high-pitched scream. 

“Okay. Four players. We can work with four players, right?” Albert says. Michela shrugs. 

“Sha-Mod?”

“Mage,” he says. “Austin, let’s go scope out Team Yaoi. Joner has a terrible blindspot.”

---

SHA-MOD: “Takes Three actually draws a lot of inspiration from video games, which we play while we’re recording. For… creative inspiration,”

---

“Okay, I’m a healer,” Courtney says contemplatively, clicking their mouse. “What do I do?”

“Just wait at base! We need a decoy,” Mal nods. 

Julia raises an eyebrow. “A decoy?”

“Duh, every team needs a decoy- Joner, get out there!”

Julia blinks. 

---

JULIA: “Something tells me Mal isn’t actually too familiar with online gaming,” she then coughs awkwardly. “Not that… I am, either. You know. That’d be sooo lame.” she laughs nervously. 

---

Joner’s character nervously drifts out to sea, so to speak, and stands at the line separating Team Yaoi and Team Friendship’s base. “Okay, what do I do now?” he whispers sharply. 

“Go distract them!” Mal says back. “NOW!”

Joner quivers and steps forward into Friendship territory. “Okay, what n-”

Within seconds, Joner’s character has been reduced to miscellaneous CGI body parts on the ground and Kelly and Phillip high-five. 

“Ugh! You had ONE JOB!” Mal shouts. “Now you’re in the penalty box!”

Julia rolls her eyes. “It’s only five minutes, calm down,” 

“What would you care?” 

The blonde’s eye twitches. 

---

JULIA: “Okay, fine, I admit it! I play a ton of these stupid games! I mean, it started off as a side hustle- get into the game code, max out my stats and take home cash prizes in local tournaments- but I am like, insanely good at it in normal mode!”

---

“Did Austin get killed again?”

“Yep, he’s in time-out. He’s not taking it too well,” Sha-Mod says as Austin rocks back and forth on the ground behind him and sobs. “Any luck with Frollo?”

“He’s still refusing to get online,” Michela sighs. “He’s just standing there talking about the fortune teller he met in a Costco.”

“Does anyone else think it’s weird we’re talking to each other like we’re in different rooms when we’re all sitting next to each other?” Albert says. The camera zooms out to show them all still lined up at the table while Frollo paces back and forth behind Michela, Austin cries behind Sha-Mod, and Patrick glares and pouts in the corner. 

“Okay, um… so, what’s our strategy?” Michela asks Sha-Mod. 

“Don’t die,”

---

“How are we holding up?” Julia asks. “I can’t see any of you guys.”

“You can’t see any of us because we’re all dead. Thanks to the brilliant leadership we’re all blindly following!” Ass says sharply. 

Mal gasps with offense. “As if it’s my fault! You’re just lazy players!”

Julia massages her temples as the two bicker before finally snapping. “Alright! Listen up! Once you’re all respawned, meet me back at base and we’ll reform,”

---

Michela and Albert both hover over Sha-Mod’s shoulder as he tries to defend base as the last player available. 

“Move in!” Bonnie shouts from across the room. They and Max swoop in and destroy Team Mojo’s last soldier, and promptly take the base.

“Yes! Take that!” Max shouts, pointing an accusing finger to the team. Michela raises an eyebrow and he quickly sits back down. 

“And we’re rounding out a Yaoi v. Friendship finale here!” Chris says, then chuckles to himself. “Never thought I’d say those words.”

Julia turns to her team. “Are we ready?”

No one looks confident, but all look less confused now that Mal, who’s pouting with her arms crossed, has taken a back seat. “I’m not playing,”

“Suit yourself!” Julia ignores her plea for attention. “Let’s move out!”

“Brace yourselves!” Bonnie warns at the other table. The team buckles in and focuses harshly on their gameplay as four Yaoi players come charging at them. 

Poof- Joner out. Then Phillip. Courtney, then Kelly and Staci in one blow. Ass and Max are next to take the fall as they kill each other at the same time, leaving only two. 

“Just us now. Better for you to give up while you still have the chance,” Julia says. 

“You wish,” Bonnie fires back, and then immediately charges. 

Each team watches in stout anticipation, and when the dust clears, Team Yaoi’s base is gone and Bonnie has only taken half the hit points.

Team Friendship cheers and Chris claps slowly. “Nice one. Here’s your advantage,” he tosses Bonnie a plastic baggy. 

“Gummy bears?” they raise an eyebrow. 

“Oh, you’re going to need the energy. Everyone follow me!”

---

The teens stand behind Chris in a large, black room, looking from side to side for any sign of life. 

“What is this?” Ass asks. “What, are you going to lock us in here and have us fight to the death in real life?”

“Heh, I wish. This challenge is the one that’ll determine our winners- and losers,” Chris says, pulling out a VR headset. “It’s time for the latest innovation in gaming- virtual reality!”

“This time, we’ll be testing your mental and physical strength with a series of rhythm-based games, as are popular in the virtual reality cafes of South Korea,” he goes on. “You’ll each be selecting your most capable player to take on the challenge and bring home the gold. Let’s get moving!”

The teams immediately turn to each other and begin discussing amongst themselves. 

“I’ll do it,” Sha-Mod immediately volunteers, prompting a sigh of relief from both Michela and Albert. 

“It should be Julia, right? She’s the only person here who knows what she’s doing,” Ass says, putting their hands on their hips. 

Julia shakes her head. “I’ve never done anything related to VR, it’s completely different,” 

“Well, I haven’t either!”

“If I may,” Joner steps up and picks up the headset. “My buddy Eric has one.”

Ass and Julia look between each other, and then shrug. Over at team friendship, the vote seems unanimously for Bonnie- except for Bonnie’s themselves. “I can’t do that,” they shake their head. “I don’t have any good memories associated with those things.”

“Well, the rest of us have NO memories associated with them,” Max insists. “Unless someone else thinks they can-”

“I’ll do it,” Staci snatches the headset. “How hard can it be?”

"Um..." Max starts, but it's too late. They've already merrily skipped across the room.

Chris’ voice catches everyone’s attention. “Alright, campers! Let’s get you set up and ready to rumble!”

The three selected players adjust their VR sets and stand in their designated places, each facing a blank black wall. Chris explains the rules- using their controls, they will slash and hack at oncoming obstacles. One hit and they’re out- last man standing wins. 

He blows a whistle and the players begin, huffing and yapping as they swing around their handheld controls. The rest of the teams blink. 

“Hm. Guess we should’ve been recording their POV,” Chris says, then shrugs. “Oh well. Notes for next time! Up for some Korean BBQ?” he asks Chef. 

“Thought you’d never ask,”

The two walk off, leaving the teens alone. The minutes tick by, and by now just about everyone is sitting on the floor, absent-mindedly watching the contestants grunt and swing their hands around. The sound of their shoes scuffling on the floor is almost comical. 

Julia sighs, sitting criss-cross on the ground. Her eyes drift to Bonnie. “Why aren’t you up there?”

“Not a huge VR fan. You?”

“Same,” Julia leans back against the wall. “Good game, by the way.”

Bonnie raises an eyebrow. “Um… yeah, good game,” they look at the floor for a moment and then dig in their pockets. “Hey, um, I have something for you. From Scruffy,” they hold out the obsidian necklace. “They told me to tell you they’re rooting for you.”

“Oh!” Julia raises her eyebrows and cautiously accepts the gift. “Well.. aren’t you the little messenger.”

Bonnie rolls their eyes and pulls their hoodie over their head. “Just felt like a nice thing to do for Scruffy. With them gone and everything,”

The blonde sulks for a moment, and then quickly turns away. “Yeah, whatever,”

---

BONNIE: “Do I actually… feel bad for Julia? No, no… I must be getting sick,”

---

“What’s the deal with that?” Max asks, watching the interaction curiously. “You better not be befriending the enemy. Having Scruffy go on about her was hard enough.”

“I was just trying to do something nice,” 

Max rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Softie,”

“You’re one to talk,” Bonnie mumbles, elbowing him and nodding ahead to where Albert and Michela are giggling about something together. Max turns red and looks away. 

“NOOOO!” Sha-Mod shouts, as if in agony, and collapses to his knees. His headset falls off and he coughs weakly before keeling over on the floor. 

The commotion recaptures the audience interest and more and more of the respective teams begin turning towards the scuffle. Joner cries out in agony next, and Staci cheers before the VR headsets power down. “Hey, where’d the lights go?”

Chris re-enters the room, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Looks like Team Friendship has secured the win! Wish we could've seen that but hey- budget. Amirite, guys?”

The teens stare back, clearly unamused. Chris chuckles. “Team Mojo, I’ll see you guys at the elimination ceremony,” 

The team groans against team friendship’s cheers, and Yaoi just sulks. “You got lucky this time,” Ass snaps at Mal. 

---

“What a day. What a meal! Mm!” Chris says, accentuating his point by waving his napkin around. “But I suppose your gruel a la Chef Hatchet will be okay, too. Now, let’s see- you guys failed today, pretty hard. But some of you were more annoying about it than others. 

Michela, Albert, and Sha-Mod- you’re safe,” he tosses each a bag of pretzels. “Auuuustin. Patrick- way to rage-quit. And Frollo, you didn’t even try. But only one of you is going home, and that person… is…

Patrick- you’re safe.”

Frollo stands, clutching his Bible. “This cannot be,”

“It can, and it is,”

He suddenly holds out his hands before Chef can grab him. “I received a message in a dream last night. There is a traitor among us,”

Sha-Mod points. “AMONG US!”

Frollo ignores him. “Someone on this plane is not who they say they are, and they will stop at nothing to reach their goal- MURDER!”

The team gasps, then Michela shakes her head. “Wait, why’d we gasp at that? This guy’s crazy,”

“Find the traitor! Before it’s too late!” Frollo insists as Chef approaches, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him to the door. He shrieks as he’s tossed out. 

“I’m gonna miss that nutcase,” Chris sighs. “Well, see you all tomorrow!” and with that, he saunters off. Michela and Albert make fleeting eye contact, and then the team slowly walks to economy. 

---

Deep within the belly of the plane, tucked within the cargo hold, surrounded by boxes and suitcases and crates galore, Frollo sits. “They don’t believe me, but they will,” he says, drumming his fingers on his Bible. “I must save them. Even if it means getting tossed outside and climbing back in a thousand times. It’s what Jesus would have done…”

A rat sitting beside him squeaks. Frollo pets it. “Yes, my brother. Now,” he says, pulling a vial of holy water from his robes. “Let’s baptize you.”

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa - Pt 1, “The Introduction”

Greetings reader.

I never introduced myself here in the Blog-osphere. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d be revisiting the page to fully share my Journeys. But- like everything- there is a season for every moment. And I’m compelled to try because I have AN AMAZING non-story and nowhere to place all of the energy welling inside me. Where do I even begin to pen everything this late in the game? How do I explain the “almosts”? My life is full of them. If you love happy endings, this is definitely NOT the blog you're looking for. But it's ...interesting.

Share your journey. You might reach someone. Encourage them. Maybe help them avoid the pain you have experienced. Or better yet, lift them up to a expectation higher than they ever have fathomed they would reach.

At this moment, I’m sitting in a cafe near Atlanta, GA (somewhere I’d never conceived living), attempting to rebuild my life and career (what’s left of them) a third time. This gets harder the older and more stubborn you get, no matter how tenacious. Believe me, my tenacity has been challenged frequently. Par for the course when you pursue a career in the Arts & Entertainment industry. Something which chose me from birth.

Maybe no one ever reads this blog, but at least I’ll leave something behind. A stamp to say I was almost here. I was “Almost Lisa”.

___

My name - My REAL name- is Lisa Tarantino. I was born in Cleveland, Ohio into a lower middle class family by my (non-practicing) Jewish mother and (non-practicing) Catholic Father, both of mixed ethnicity. The youngest of three children, I was likely the one-too-many. We were not a wealthy bunch. I can imagine how stressful this was for my parents. I also remember every detail of the household I grew up in where we never discussed anything or ate meals together, where everyone communicated by yelling at one another. But I wasn't built this way. My heart- my Love- was huge and efforts to show my family were constantly deflected and unreciprocated. Disagreement (anger, blame, resentment) became the consistent example of “Love” I witnessed. In order to evade constant discourse, I hid in my room, creating the Beauty I wished to find out in the world to replace the ugly just outside my bedroom door.

Even in my early 20′s I was smart, witty, compassionate, and had that “it factor”. When I walked in a room, you knew I was there. This too often intimidated others or worse, attracted those who sought to control me. It was at this time that a probability analyst considered my attributes, shook his head, and surmised my likeliness of existence to be a zero. It was also at this age when I was first diagnosed with Creative Genius, something which isolated me from other kids and created endless boredom in school and life. And while I was constantly silenced and talked over at Home, I created my own language of writing, painting, sewing, singing... in order to communicate, to be “heard”. This led to music lessons which led to performing in school bands, orchestras, choruses, etc. In my senior year, I was accepted into the prestigious Eastman School of Music in New York. Which we couldn't afford.

“Fathers / Daddies, Hug your baby girls. As often as you can. If they don't learn what non-sexual touch is from you,

they will have nothing to compare it by moving forward. Sex will feel like respect and appreciation when it's not.   Sincerely,        A woman who learned this the hard way”

You may have noticed how quickly I breezed through those early years. How I've evaded any discussion about boys. Well, for one, I was a tomboy more interested in sports and events with the guys than dating. Also, unfortunately for me, I was a pretty girl. Something I never valued growing up, which created nonstop unwanted and unwarranted affection and attention from the opposite sex. Specifically men (see additional Blog, “Me Too Many”). The amount of sexual harassment and objectification I received as a child and teen was offensive, borderline criminal, scarring. And since I was never taught boundaries and self-worth by my parents, I often found myself in very uncomfortable situations with men/ boys I thought were trustworthy. Maybe my parents believed I’d learn life lessons by osmosis (watching my sisters). I didn't. I learned from bad male behavior. Unfortunately they weren't only outside of my home.

In my late teens and into college, my Dad took on a business partner who all but lived in our home, with free access to come and go as he pleased. He creeped all of the women out. But my Dad wouldn't listen to anything negative about Steve. While Steve never succeeded in molesting me, he absolutely tried. I don’t know if he did with my sisters, we never became close due to our upbringing. At that time, we were all prisoners in our “home”. I could not wait to leave Cleveland and get out of that house. College was a blessing and I fought like hell to get the grants and loans I needed to attend, never looking back. The least privileged in my class to graduate, but I did. Broadway here I come! There was no stopping me. So I thought.

A couple years before I graduated from Eastman, I got involved in a State fundraising event which, by year 6, I was deeply hands-on involved in. At the helm of these annual events was the "Chairman” (even now, I have trouble taking that title seriously) of a corporation which pretended to act as an entertainment manager, of which I was a “client” (I was noticeably talented in unique ways, well-spoken, put-together. It attracted a certain energy and curiosity). The empty promises of career contacts and interviews the Chairman couldn't make (he was a fraud) coupled with my commitment to the charities we helped, the 100′s of corporations donating and corporate heads in attendance at these annual fundraisers, kept me hostage for years, delaying personal career progress. I was not his only victim. He was a dangerous, manipulative pathological liar. Knew just what to say and when to keep just enough hope inside me alive for a “big break” which was always just about to happen for me. Through surmounting event responsibilities, I came to learn the Chairman was  seemingly deriving his entire annual salary from our fundraising efforts. When I confronted him the first few times, he towered his bloated 6′1″ frame over me and barked in my face, threatening me. The Last time, he punched through a wall, inches from my face. The next day I bought a burner cellphone, closed shop, rented a U-Haul, packed my things and left in the middle of the night, to escape. It was years later that he finally stopped trying to threaten and harass me. I’d give anything to get those crucial post-university years back. If I’d had a family unit, it wouldn't have taken so long to get OUT. But eventually, I did succeed.

During these years, an “easy” outlet for me was modeling and print work. I didn't have the cash to spend on a professional shoot to build my book. So I learned  to do my hair, makeup, wardrobe, backdrop, composition and editing... then sent the composites to various companies and agencies in an attempt to secure employment. Astonishingly, several responded. But it was something else which helped me gain back my independence.

While still in Rochester, NY, I had been accepted into a very prestigious vocal studio in NYC to retrain from opera to Broadway. But I couldn't afford to live in the city yet and the "Chairman” conveniently never paid me promised wages to make my efforts any easier. So once a week, I would drive from Rochester NY, through the Catskills, to the Metro North railway, then down the line, into Grand Central, and across town to the upper west side of NYC for a one hour vocal lesson with the two of the loveliest vocal Grandmasters (Richard Dorr and John Mace) in the Biz, then hightail all the way back to Rochester to slave over that State Event the rest of the week. I did this- come rain, blizzard, and falling asleep behind the wheel- many times. For 56 weeks, straight. 

Eventually, I established residency in NYC. Unable to continue my coachings (I was almost out of savings), I subleased a room from a group of young grads, new to the world of finance, and began auditioning and forging my way back into the music scene. I was gaining momentum when a first “real opportunity” to perform was presented to me, on the morning of September 11, 2001. That was the day I “Almost” realized my Broadway Dream. The day I was “Almost Lisa”...

(to be continued)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[cyanidefilledcandy]

Decided to try the ballet class again and actually made it through the entire session this time! 😄✌🏾

Truthfully though, I am struggling....and I don't mean physically (though that IS another annoyance and a big reason I couldn't finish last time). It's mostly mental though.

A big part of it is concentration and memorizing the moves, which has always been an issue when it came to me and ballet, but the older I've gotten the worse it has become. (And yes. Even when I started up again in my early 20s, it had gotten a LOT worse.....and in everything; not just ballet. So it's not something I can simply chalk up to age.) I don't know why, but it's like when she's explaining things and giving advice, it's like my mind just kind of blanks out completely. I can't even say it's wandering because there's nothing else on it besides how I'm trying to listen and it's just like my brain isn't processing any of it. :/

I saw a post on Reddit once and someone mentioned Brain Fog as a symptom of mental illness, you never hear about. And I know if it sounds cliche' these days, but honestly.....I felt so seen. And not alone. And not.....dumb.

A huge huge insecurity of mine is appearing stupid. I know for a fact that I'm not (in fact, when the [redacted] cult tried to recruit me, they mentioned my high IQ). But as a teen, I started getting depersonalization really badly, where I just always felt like I was in a dream. After my grandmother passed away, it's like my mind had woken up or came back to reality, but now it was in a constant fog.....a fog that's continued to day and has only gotten thicker. A fog where I forgot basic grammar and math rules, even though I legitimately used them everyday. A fog that causes me to stutter and forget words while speaking (why I've always preferred writing to speaking). A fog that straight up made me forget how talk a couple of times (and no that's not an exaggeration....I literally could not form words. A fog that got so thick to the point where a few years, I literally could not form thoughts.... something I still haven't fully recovered from.

Sorry. I went kind of on a tangent there....but it's so frustrating that this constant Brain Fog is keeping me from doing the things I love; not just dance, but drawing. Writing. Crafting... And I don't know what to do about it. I don't even know the cause, if I'm being completely honest. I've wracked my brain trying to at least get to the root of why, so that MAYBE healing is possible, but....

Another big factor is just my frustration in myself. I'm not an absolute beginner in ballet, but I've felt that way ever since I've started taking ballet as an adult. My teacher would go through simple steps and phrases and I just felt like a moron because I'd either forgotten what they were or just couldn't find them in my brain at all.

I know in reality, I've only done three years of ballet....and even that's pushing it...

It was an elective class (in place of PE) at my middle schools. 30 minutes to an hour a day, sometimes 5 days a week....sometimes only 3. And we never stayed on ballet long (maybe a month and half each school year) because my classmates were more interested in modern/hip-hop. So in truth, those three years, I was not properly trained to say I am knowledgeable in ballet.

I know that logically.

However, my Perfectionist nature hinders me as always....because I feel like I don't even know the basics. Because I feel like I should be able to get through a beginner class with no issue. Because everytime I make a mistake, my mind screams at me "This isn't hard! Why don't you know this?! It's a fucking plie'! You should know how to properly do one by now! You could do this a decade ago with no problem! What the actual fuck?!"

So, I get frustrated and immediately want to quit. (Have always been someone who would rather not try, than to try and fail. Like literally if I thought I would fail a test in highschool, I literally would just not even try and accept a flat 0 than to try and fail.)

And then also, I'm frustrated with myself because I'm over 30 and should be above all of this. It's like I'm going backwards in life. Even as a kid I understood that perfection wasn't a thing, in art, beauty, or anything else. And though I had my moments (such as having a full crying fit the first time I got a B on a PROGRESS REPORT), I've definitely gotten worse.

Besides my stomach (which though self conscious, I still fully accepted), I've never given a damn about my looks or what others thought of it. Now it's constantly on my mind.

I used to draw and draw and didn't give a damn because I liked doing it. Now, I'm terrified to even pick up a pencil because I know it's not going to be what I picture in my head.....and I'm just going to fuck up the perspective. Or the coloring. Or not get the pose exactly right. Or....

I'm just so sick of letting fear and brain fog holding me back from my creativity. I miss moving and creating. Doesn't have to be perfect. Doesn't have to get a ton of likes or comments. I just miss doing things. And with dance.....it used to be the one thing I could do where I legitimately didn't care about my body size or how I looked. I would dance randomly in the grocery.

I just want to get back to being that person.

*sigh* This wasn't where I was intended this blog post to go... (Word vomit, I suppose.)

......my point doesn't even make sense anymore, so....fuck it....

I just want to get out of this fog in my head and back to moving and creating without thinking. 😕

[camxnoel-updates]

Cameron Monaghan brought the character of Ian Gallagher to life on Showtime’s hit series, Shameless. The series aired for a total of 11 seasons after originally premiering in 2011. It ranked as the network’s no. 1 comedy, longest-running series, and had the youngest-skewing audience of any Showtime series. Monaghan also joined two legendary universes with roles in both Gotham and Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order, which I got to ask him about too!

The final season of SHAMELESS finds the Gallagher family and the South Side at a crossroads, with changes caused by the COVID pandemic, gentrification, and aging to reconcile. As Frank confronts his own mortality and family ties in his alcoholic and drug-induced twilight years, Lip struggles with the prospect of becoming the family’s new patriarch. Newlyweds Ian (Cameron Monaghan) and Mickey (Noel Fisher) are figuring out the rules and responsibilities of being in a committed relationship while Deb embraces her individuality and single motherhood. Carl finds an unlikely new career in law enforcement and Kevin and V struggle to decide whether a hard life on the South Side is worth fighting for.

Along with the final season, fans also got a six-episode series that featured new Shameless scenes juxtaposed with a retrospective look at each character’s journey over the prior 10 seasons, titled, Shameless Hall of Shame. The first episode followed Ian and Mickey, showcasing their unique relationship and its evolution from a teen fling into a loving, complicated marriage.

I was able to chat with the actor over zoom and ask him all of my burning questions regarding the series finale, Ian and Mickey’s future, the show’s open ending, the representation his character provided to those watching, what he kept from the set, his future projects, and so much more! Keep reading to find out everything he told me.

So first of all, I want to say a huge congrats to you for wrapping Shameless after 11 seasons and bringing this character to life, who has inspired so many and that so many relate to. I wanted to ask, what has your time on the show meant to you and how would you describe how it helped you grow as an actor?

Cameron Monaghan: I mean, it’s so difficult to distill 11 years into some sort of concise answer, but it’s meant a lot for so many reasons. I think that obviously it’s been important for my career and my life in a sense of how it’s not only given me exposure but also given all of us a platform as performers to be able to tell interesting and challenging stories and to really develop and grow. Obviously, we had a couple of old pros on the show– when I say old pros, I’m not calling them old, just that they’re professionals and they’ve been doing it for a long time, but like William H. Macy, Joan Cusack, and a number of people who had very storied careers. Then we had actors on the show who had never appeared on anything prior and for a lot of us, we were somewhere in the middle, where we’d been working for a number of years, but hadn’t been given the opportunities to really put ourselves out there in such a significant way.

So being able to get an audience over the course of 11 years– and the show grew steadily, it was a marginal success at first, but it wasn’t until like season 4 or 5 that it really started to be seen by people and really connect on a larger platform, and a lot of that had to do with Netflix. When that happens we had such an influx of people kind of saying how they related to it and I think that that’s something that I’ve really taken away– I think we’ve all taken away, to be able to hear a lot of other people’s stories and how they’ve connected these stories in entirely different ways. Everyone has had different favorite characters or storylines and they have brought their own personal experiences to that, but for people to say that they feel seen or heard in some ways by these stories, I think is very special. You know, the character that I was playing was an LGBT love story, as well as a story about mental illness, and coping and struggling with that. I had so many positive responses from people regarding those things, and it was amazing to hear people’s responses. So I think that not only was I able to grow as an actor but being able to hear that response and feedback helps you grow as a human being too. I guess that’s what one of my major takeaways is.

What was that final day of shooting like for you, and how did you feel when you officially wrapped?

It was a bit surreal. I don’t think it really set in at first. It’s always funny when you wrap on a project, I feel like it comes in waves, and with something like a TV show, you start to feel it on the last few episodes of like, “Oh, wow, it’s going to be over.” You start trying to find your little ways of saying goodbye to people and understanding that these conversations are obviously not the last for everyone; we’re still close with each other, but you start to recognize that within the context of the show they’ll be your last so that’s a difficult thing. I’ve never been particularly good at saying goodbye, you know? I feel like in general, I’m kind of a person that just likes to be like, “I’m just going to walk away from it cause I don’t know what else to do really.”

So, we were shooting pretty late at night and we were all there hanging out and cracking jokes, and it was just of like, “Oh, I guess that’s it.” We all kind of looked at each other like, “Well, what do we do now?” A bunch of us stuck around for a few hours afterward, we popped a bottle of champagne, and we sat in each others’ trailers and just kinda hung out until pretty early in the morning, the next day. Then we’ve all kind of just been hanging out and seeing each other since. Everyone’s been really busy, thankfully. So we’ve been traveling and going to different cities for work, but when we’ve been in town we’ve been trying to see each other. I had dinner with Jeremy and Ethan, who played my brothers on the show last week. Noel Fisher, I just saw yesterday. I’m going to see Shanola Hampton in a few days. We’re all still staying in touch with each other is what I’ll say.

Were you personally satisfied with the ending of the show? I think it was very open-ended, which was kind of nice and left a lot open for the future. And was there anything you wanted to see for your character that we weren’t able to?

Endings are difficult in general, but I feel like, especially with a show like Shameless, which is a show about a slice of life and sort of how existence doesn’t really fall into a perfect narrative; it tends to be messy and kind of just continue in spite of itself, and it’s a stream of these little victories and these constant mistakes. So you can’t really cap off a pure ending to a story like that. I think that what John Wells tried to do with writing it is not really conclude the stories. He concludes certain aspects, but the way that he explained it to us is he wanted it to feel like if you were walking through the streets of Chicago, maybe you might bump into these characters. Maybe they’re still out there and maybe they’re still doing things. Some of us had more resolution than others.

I would actually say that the Ian and Mickey storyline was one that did have a fair amount of resolution for the final episode. It was about their anniversary, how they were going to deal with their future, and they’ve kind of figured out some sort of life with each other. There are still large questions, whether or not they’re going to have kids and what the terms of their marriage will entail in the future, but those are questions that are lifelong questions, and ones that I think that we know these characters well enough and we understand their relationships well enough that we can draw our own conclusions for. I think there is something beautiful about the fact that the audience will project what their future for these characters will be.

I think it was a challenging final season because of so many extenuating factors in the world. All shows, businesses, everything was trying frantically to keep up with a changing landscape, and the fact that we were able to make it in spite of all of those things, I think is a victory in itself; one that we are all proud of and happy with. I do think there’s still a future, years out, where we might return to these characters and explore them further. I think that I’m happy putting them to bed for now, I think we all are, but I would like to maybe check in with these characters in 5 or 10 years, and just kind of see where they’re at and what they’re doing.

Kind of like a little Shameless movie, just to play catch up for a little bit.

Yeah, I think that’s something that is kind of more possible now with these streaming networks. They’ve done it with a few series, to sometimes success and sometimes mixed results, but I do think there is a possibility of a reunion season or something like that, depending on where the show fits into the public consciousness in a few years, you know? It’s an open question, but one I’d be excited to see.

How you would describe Ian’s evolution and journey on the show?

I think that Ian has come a long way in terms of confidence and assuredness in himself and his own decisions. I think that’s what a lot of the exploration of the character was, especially in the middle seasons between seasons like 3 to 8 or 9, are this guy who sort of just doesn’t necessarily know what he wants for himself and he’s dealing with a bunch of surprises about himself that he doesn’t necessarily understand, or hasn’t really come to terms with. I think it’s amazing to see Ian in these earlier episodes where he’s kind of getting kicked around by his relationships and by his family. He’s kind of a forgotten kid a little bit. He’s like a middle child, who’s just sort of– people aren’t really looking out for him. His brother does to a certain extent, but also his brother is kind of telling him what he wants for himself and Ian isn’t as active.

At a certain point, he starts to really come into his own as an adult and as a human being. I think it’s amazing how we see him as not only a big brother by the end of the series, but also sort of– there’s something a bit paternal about him. He becomes a bit of a father figure, even a little bit in his relationships. I think it’s interesting how Mickey was always sort of the commanding force and deciding factor for so much of the series; when Ian was really struggling with mental illness and down in the dumps, Mickey is the kind of guy who was looking after him, but by the end of the series, Mickey is a bit childlike in certain ways. Ian is kind of protecting him to a certain extent, and even with his older brother, Lip, Ian is sort of looking out for him in a slightly paternal way, which I think is kind of interesting. He really comes a long way in sort of being confident enough in himself to start looking out for other people that I think is a really great quality. It makes him a character who has made a fair amount of mistakes but mistakes that we understand, and I think that ultimately he’s a guy that I understand and really relate to because he does have this quality to him.

So I have to ask you some questions about Ian and Mickey. I personally love them together, they were one of the reasons I started watching the show. In the end, as you said, we kind of get some closure, but also an open ending with them and it’s a happy one; they’re together and celebrating their anniversary. In your head, what do you think that their future holds? Do you think kids are in the picture; do you think they’re going to be parents? Ideally, what is your version of their happy ending, if you could create it?

I think that they both still need to do some work. I would say that they need to do work as a couple in their marriage still of just defining the terms of what is it that they want financially, sexually, intimately, personally, all of these things. It’s a show full of people who aren’t great at communication or dealing with their own feelings– I mean to a certain extent, most human beings aren’t, but these guys, especially, come from a rough background and they have that tendency of just kind of wanting to push that stuff down. Ian has really opened up Mickey and Mickey to a certain extent has really opened up Ian over the course of the series, but I still don’t think they’re fully all the way there. Mickey has a lot of emotional baggage when it comes to parenthood, his father, and dealing with responsibility.

I don’t know if Mickey is fully there. Hopefully, he would be one day in the future. And hopefully, Ian would be patient enough to give him the space to make that decision and to not want to rush into it. I do think that it would be something in their future. Parenthood was a huge motivating factor for Ian earlier in the series, going so far as to steal someone’s baby at some point because he wants to be a father. I would hope that they would be able to provide that for him and for themselves, but there’s no way to know, we have to sort of make that assumption for ourselves, but I think so.

Ian and Mickey have been this fan-favorite couple that means so much to the LGBTQ+ community in terms of representation. What was the moment that you personally started rooting for them?

I think it was pretty early. I was rooting for Ian from the first episode, from the pilot, but the second that Mickey gets introduced to the show, he brought such a fun dynamic with him. Obviously, a massive amount of charisma that was coming from Noel Fisher. The scenes were always fun, exciting, and felt steeped in a lot of dramatic tension. Whether or not they were destined to be together was kind of a question that still was developing. In the first season to the third season, the Mickey character is pretty rough emotionally and physically; he is at points pretty, extremely abusive in a way that is great for a character and for a story, but if I was talking to Ian as a person in real life, I would probably say, “Get the hell away from this guy. He’s awful for you.”

But within the context of the story, we’re able to get the internal life of these characters and we understand them well enough to really want to be rooting for them and see them succeed. It builds into this pretty epic love story of these characters that really do feel kind of intertwined by fate and something greater. It feels like you have these forces pulling for them in a way that you want with every fiber of your being to see it work out for them because you care for them. So obviously, Noel and I had been rooting for these characters the entire time, but it was really fun playing some of the ridiculousness of the situations of the two of them, where they were just very at odds with each other at times. It was a joy bouncing off of each other in both the highs and the lows of the character.

Is there sort of a message that you hope their love story gives to viewers that see themselves in these characters?

Well, I think the aspects of the characters, especially for Mickey, that I’m sure a lot of people relate to, and it is sort of the greatest tragedy of the character, is how he is deeply in the closet and he feels that he can’t embrace his own self and also this beautiful love because of this situation that he’s in; a traumatic home life, specifically an abusive father, and also an environment that doesn’t allow him to be what he wants to be. I guess the message that I do hope that people who are relating to that get is that there are places where you can be accepted and there are better options for you, and sometimes that takes time, but as cliched as it is, it does get better. So hopefully people are able to find these safe environments for themselves to be able to improve the quality of life and to get better situations. I hope that people find hope in the story ultimately.

Another relationship of Ian’s that I have to discuss is his relationship with the whole Gallagher family; that was a focus of the series since day one. What was your favorite part of their dynamic and playing off that?

Obviously, the chaos of the family is always really fun to play. We had these scenes that were kind of an amazing balancing act of like 8 or 9 people in a scene, all messing around with these different storylines that are bouncing off of each other, intertwining, and you have this really biting sharp satirical dialogue that all had a very specific rhythm to it and was a sort of flow that was established early in the show that was kind of kept across the entire series; one that was a genuine joy as a performer to play. But I think that specifically the relationship that I’ve always been a fan of and I love from the start, is probably– it’s definitely one of my favorite relationships on the show– was the relationship between Ian and Lip.

There’s not a lot of depictions of brotherhood and intimacy between men that are deeply sensitive, close, and uncomplicated. Those are definitely scenes that I felt very personally moved by, of two brothers who have just had a world of shit, a lot of complicated and messed up things that have been dropped on their heads that they’ve been dealing with for the entirety of their lives, but they’ve sort of made a pact that they were just gonna be there for each other no matter what. If they weren’t there for each other, who knows if they would have survived. I think that there’s something really amazing about those scenes in that they’re just very open with each other, and that’s something that’s established right from the start and was kind of one of those key relationships for the show that survived until the very last episode and that I’m very proud of, cause I do think that those are some of my personal favorite scenes of the show.

Here’s a fun three-part question: most challenging, fun, and insane storyline for you as an actor?

Most challenging would probably have to be… we reached a point in the series around season 8 and they were trying to contextualize the characters in a modern way, put them into new circumstances, but try to retain what the characters were, but they’ve moved a lot from where they originally were. We were at a point where we were getting so many new writers onto the series, and the show I feel struggled for a second, which happens with any series that’s been on for a while. It felt like there was a point where they didn’t know what they wanted to do with Ian. There were a couple of episodes where I was kind of looking at the story and being like, “What are we doing here? It doesn’t really feel like anything is happening with him and we’re kind of floating across these relationships.” I wasn’t sure what we were trying to say, but that being said, that is kind of true to life, to a certain degree, where we do find ourselves sometimes in these ruts where we don’t know what we’re doing with our relationships, our lives, and ourselves. There is a little bit of a struggle there and that is kind of real to a certain degree, and I do think having those episodes make when they started finding the way with the character and relationships again, kind of more satisfying cause he sort of loses his way and he comes back. So it was kind of a challenge, but I think it all worked out ultimately.

Craziest would have to be… so this is one that no one would even know is like a thing really, no one would even think of it as a thing, but the scene in the pilot episode, Lip and Ian jump out of like a window and they run out of a house to escape an angry parent, right? And they’re kind of running in a rush. So they run out in their socks, down the street, and it’s the middle of January in Chicago and the streets are covered in mud, water, and ice. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever felt in my life that I actually thought my feet were going to like fall off. I thought we were going to have to amputate a toe because of frostbite. We did the scene a bunch of times, and because Jeremy and I were young, we were just sort of trying to be tough, just like, “Yeah, whatever, it’s not a problem. We can do this over and over, not a big deal.” Then I definitely learned a lesson of like, when something is a problem, you have to say, it’s a problem.

Most fun… I don’t know if I can distill it to just one scene. I think the most fun was just getting to interact with all of the wildly different personalities of our show, and just kind of get to sit around and hang out with everyone. There were times that we would just be laughing so hard that one of us would start and we just end up crying, laughing. Usually, it was because of Howey cracking jokes or something like that, but it could be just the dumbest to smallest thing, but it’s the kind of thing when you become so comfortable with people, it just starts to happen. Sometimes it was just the downtime and these little small kind of boring or mundane moments that really ended up being some of my favorite experiences.

Did you take anything from the set at all?

I did. So in the final season, there’s a storyline where Frank steals Nighthawks, the Edward Hopper painting, and that was actually done in cooperation with the Art Institute of Chicago and the Edward Hopper estate. They did these really high-resolution prints of it that were then painted over by hand, and they even took pictures of the back and mimicked the way that the canvas wrapped over, the small writing, and everything. It’s a pretty damn good forgery of Nighthawks. So I stole one of those and that’s hanging up in my living room. I also stole one of the mugs cause in the show we’re always having breakfast and drinking coffee, so there are these rooster mugs and I stole one of those.

Since you’re talking to The Nerds of Color, I have to ask you about Star Wars and Gotham. What stood out to you about Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order compared to your other work, and what did it mean to you to join that iconic universe?

I mean, what stood out pretty quickly was that it had a tone all of its own. Star Wars is a very specific tone. It has sort of its own language, pacing, style, and rhythm; there’s something very specific about it, something that I’m a big fan of. I grew up watching the Star Wars movies and that was definitely… you know, anytime that you’re jumping onto something with an active and passionate fanbase it’s going to be slightly intimidating. There’s no way around that. Thankfully, I’ve at this point done enough projects with really passionate fanbases to kind of understand what that entails, which is that there’s going to be a lot of opinions. A lot of people are really excited about things and no matter what, even the smallest things, someone’s going to be very, very angry about it. That comes along with the territory, but that’s kind of fun to a certain degree; it’s fun to hear such minutiae and being examined, and these conversations are ones that are being had on set too.

There’s so much conversation between the Lucasfilm story group, Respawn, and EA, who are the production companies behind the game, and also the cast, directors, and everybody involved are sometimes discussing, “How does a person stand? How does one get onto a speeder bike? What kind of sound does this monster make?” And there’s always a genuine deference and respect to the series. We know how much people care about it. We know because we care about it a lot, and everyone on this project are huge fans of the source material. So that was exciting to be a part of, obviously; I mean, that should go without saying. It’s so freaking cool to be a Jedi and to be the face of this massive franchise, and to be able to not only be a part of a really well-known property and part of this large project but also to be able to tell an interesting and intimate story within it. For as bombastic as all of the action is, and as big as the Star Wars universe is, I feel the story of Cal Kestis and the people that he interacts with is a somewhat smaller one and a more intimate one. It’s ultimately, at least for me, a pretty emotionally resonant one and a story that I actually very much care about and relate to. I think that was probably the most exciting part about it, was being able to within the framework of this big machinery of what Star Wars is, still tell a story that might actually affect people and make them feel things, I think was just really cool.

Could you describe how it felt to take on the role of the Joker?

Exciting, intimidating, an honor, and challenging; it’s a role that I didn’t take lightly. I understood what it was, which is that a lot of the people who were seeing me in the role had never heard of me and didn’t know who I was, and it was a way to prove myself and to show off my take of what I could do with this. It was really cool too with that show that we were getting to do something that had never really been done before with the character, which is to show multiple versions and possibilities of what that character could be, and to kind of tip our hat to some of the famous stories that came before, and then kind of give a unique spin and show off some new things with it as well.

Obviously, that show was heightened to a certain degree and kind of existed in this wacky over-the-top violent, but also slightly cartoony universe that was kind of its own little thing. That was really fun to play around with it and to totally get to do something kind of different with that, something that we hadn’t seen before. But I think it was specifically really intimidating because, at that point of casting when I performed the episode in the first season of that show, no one had played the role since Heath Ledger had posthumously won the Oscar for the role. So the only people who had touched it in live-action had been Jack Nicholson and Heath Ledger, which are just massive, massive shoes to fill and two people that I deeply admired. Again, it’s just sort of a case of respect and wanting to kind of come in, just do my absolute best with the material, and to try to pay a certain level of honor to the people that came before.

Anything you can tease about what you’re going to do next? Any future projects?

Absolutely. It’s always difficult with this stuff because there’s only so much you can say. I can say that I just shot a film that hasn’t been announced yet, but I was out of town shooting it for a while. It’s the starring role in the film, and that will come out to theaters in the near future. I’m also working on another project over the course of the next year that I will be working on and off for. Again, thanks to the joys of NDAs, I can’t actually say what it is. I have a movie that I will be doing in June and then also I’m starting to move a bit behind the camera as well. So I’m working on producing and starring in a feature in August or September. And I’m writing a couple of projects right now as well. So it’s a loaded year for the next year, but it’s all very exciting that’s happening.

[narukoibito]

“Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Am I Your Lockscreen?

Summary: Harry misplaces his phone.

AO3 | FF.net

Note: This took absolutely forever (months!), but here it finally is. Thanks for the ridiculous prompt Anon. This is complete, unadulterated fluff. It’s ridiculous, and I just can't. Haha, I hope you enjoy!

*

Harry was in the middle of stifling a yawn when he heard the rumbling downstairs.

Must be Fred and George, he thought, stretching his arms over his head. He let them fall back on the cot, with a content, food coma induced sigh. He was thinking about taking a little kip when Ron stirred on the bed beside him.

“Sounds like Ginny’s home early,” Ron grumbled.

“Ginny’s home?” Harry perked up, only to cough self-consciously at the strange look Ron gave him. Right, best mate’s little sister, he reminded himself. Except she was so much more than that. As if on cue, he heard the tinkling of her laughter below.

“Oh, I guess that’s nice,” Harry said casually, leaning back into the cot and pretending to go back to napping.

After a moment, Harry sneaked a peek. Ron had returned to fiddling with his phone. Texting Hermione probably.

Good save, Potter.

Unable to stop himself, Harry reached into his pocket to protectively touch his phone. Only to come back empty-handed.

His eyes popped open.

He straightened and immediately began to pat the blankets around him, his hands searching with a growing franticness.

“Mate?” Ron asked.

“Have you seen my phone?” Harry looked under his pillow and the sheets, on the verge of panic. He always, always kept his phone with him, especially —

“Er, no?” Ron sat up, confused. “Let me call you.”

Harry waited with bated breath as Ron dialed his number. He glared at the rumpled sheets pooled around him, willing them to start ringing.

Finally, there came his tell-tale ring! Only it was…

Shite. Shite, shite, shite!

It had been a moment of weakness. At her last football game, he had snapped a photo right when she’d made the winning shot. Then, like the idiot he was, couldn’t resist saving it as his lockscreen.

“Harry?” He heard Ron’s cry of surprise behind him as he moved, wrenching open the door. He bolted down the stairs, taking two, then three steps at a time, racing toward the ringing.

Just as he rounded the corner to the kitchen, Harry saw Ginny. Even in the midst of his panic, he couldn’t stop the way his stomach swooped at the sight of her standing there in her football training kit, with her long hair tumbling over her shoulders, her freckled skin that glowed, her pale fingers that he longed to hold.

And then, as if in slow motion, he watched as those very fingers reached toward the dining room table.

Fuck.

“Whose phone—?”

“Argh!” Without thinking, Harry launched himself into the air. 

His fingers triumphantly curled over the phone.

Sweet relief coursed through him as an invisible audience cheered him in his head. Safe! He was safe!

Only of course his foot caught on something, and Harry went tumbling headfirst onto the floor. All those years of football training meant he automatically rolled, protecting his head, even as he crashed against the cupboards.

“Harry! Are you okay?”

He blinked away the spots in his eyes to see Ginny looking down at him, her brown eyes bright with concern. She leaned in, her face tantalizingly close.

“Fine. I’m fine,” he croaked, his face flooding with color and not only because he was upside down.

And he was fine, despite the spinning room, because Ginny was here, smiling down at him. The fluttering in his chest mixed with the squeeze of relief that she wasn’t looking down at him in disgust or, worse, pity at having uncovered his secret.

“I see you haven’t lost your flair for dramatics,” she said wryly.

“Constant vigilance,” Harry said, pleased when she laughed at the reference to that ridiculous counselor from that summer camp their parents had enrolled them in as teens. Counselor Moody used to do all sorts of mad things to scare them, like popping out of the bushes. Harry and Ginny used to catch each other’s eyes and laugh about it back when she was nothing more than his best mate’s little sister.

Harry’s eyes couldn’t help but wander from her face, only to flush and snap his eyes upward. She certainly wasn’t so little anymore.

“Let’s get you right-side up, and then maybe you can explain why you were pulling a Moody.”

His stomach curled into knots at her proximity as she helped him. He tried to think of something charming to say, which was hard when she was dusting him off and unintentionally sending goosebumps up his arm.

“I was testing your reflexes,” Harry blurted. “I’m still faster than you.”

“Oh, like that really counts when you suddenly shout and fling yourself at me.”

Why was it that the challenging look on Ginny’s face only made his heart skip a beat?

“Element of surprise.” He reached up to adjust his crooked glasses, something tickling in the back of his mind like he was forgetting something. Focusing was difficult with the intoxicating scent of flowers short-circuiting his brain.

“Well, for all your bluster…” With a mischievous glint in her eye, Ginny triumphantly raised his phone screen to his line of sight. “You still lose.”

Harry’s heart dropped to the floor. His eyes darted from the phone to her face and back again. He made a wild swipe for it, but Ginny was prepared.

“Whose call were you so eager to answer, hmm?” she taunted as she ducked into the family room.

“No, Ginny!” He followed her frantically, nearly knocking over a vase. “Come on, don’t—!”

“Not Cho, I hope?” She ran around the couch, strategically placing it between them. Her hand waved the phone tauntingly at him.

“No,” Harry said, slowly drawing nearer, adrenaline drumming in his ears. He frantically looked for an opening. “Cho and I aren’t a thing anymore.”

“Then it’s no problem if I check, is it?” Ginny turned the phone toward her, eyes slowing lowering — with his heart lodged in his throat, Harry lunged.

The two of them tumbled to the ground in a mess of limbs.

Harry groaned at the sting from where his head had connected with the floor. Somehow, in the chaos, he had managed to be on the bottom, which was good because Ginny hadn’t felt the brunt of the fall. But as the pain began to recede, he was suddenly very much aware of the soft curves pressing into him, her legs tangled up with his. She moved, wiggling enough to make him yelp.

Oh God, was this it? The only time he would ever get this close?

How pathetic could he get?

“Harry?”

He winced and waited for her to punch him and call him a pervert or something. When it didn’t come, he dared to open a tentative eye. Ginny had lifted herself up, hovering above him, her fiery red hair a curtain around them. Unable to stop himself, he stared up at her, bewitched by her freckles up close, the growing flush on her cheeks that reminded him of a sunset.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Am I your lockscreen?”

Harry swallowed hard, his chest twisting painfully. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Her lips quirked upward. “Planned on keeping it a secret for life?”

“Worth a shot,” he said dryly, even though his pulse was racing. She was smiling — could that possibly mean…?

“Yes, well. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, what are you going to do about it?” Her eyes flashed.

His traitorous hand reached up, lightly brushing her hair back. As his fingers skimmed her cheeks, she released an unsteady breath that whispered against his face. Ginny, his best mate’s little sister, his brilliant friend who could kick his arse, who made him laugh until his cheeks hurt.

“Ginny,” he said, barely able to think over the hammering in his heart, trying to form the words he had been reciting endlessly ever since she and Dean split up. “Will you be my lockscreen?”

Wait. Did he just…?

Mortification surged inside him. Where was a hole to bury himself in when he needed it? He would never be able to show his face around the Weasleys again — how was he going to explain that to Ron? He’d go abroad, Scotland maybe, explore castles or woods, anywhere really, just somewhere far, far away.

A peal of laughter tore him from his runaway thoughts. Ginny gave him such a bright smile, it was hard to look at her straight on. She was leaning closer, her eyes blazing. “Only if you’ll be mine.”

“Fair is fair,” he said, holding her gaze for what seemed like an impossible time, the tension between them making his chest want to burst, and then suddenly they were kissing.

He had imagined this moment many times in the past few months since his feelings had all but clobbered him over the head when he and Ron bumped into Ginny and Dean snogging under the bleachers. He’d replaced Dean with himself, imagined his hands around her waist, his lips fused with hers.

But this — this was so much better than anything he could have imagined. All conscious thoughts were obliterated by a warm sunshine that effused his every nerve.

“Harry,” Ginny breathed heavily when they finally broke apart. The smile she was giving him made him smile what was surely the soppiest smile in existence. “That was…”

“Lockscreen worthy?” he asked like an idiot.

She chuckled, her body shifting against him, turning that sunshine inside him to molten heat. “Might need to double check.”

“Happy to oblige,” he said, as she leaned down and kissed him again. He ached to be closer, his hand tangling into her soft hair, and she pressed closer as if also driven by the same reckless desire. He was so lost in her, he only barely registered the distant noise that was getting closer.

“Where’d you go, Har— oh my God!” Ron’s cry pierced through Harry’s hazy brain. “Get off my sister!”

Fear spiked through Harry. He looked up at his best mate (who was hopefully still his best mate), who looked as if he had been clubbed on the head.

“He can’t get off me, I’m on him!” Ginny replied unhelpfully.

“Oh then… Get off my best mate!”

Ron grabbed her ankles and started pulling her off of Harry, but Ginny, in a fit of rebelliousness, clung onto Harry harder.

Over their bickering about “bro code” and “we don’t need your permission” and “took you both long enough, but no snogging in the family room,” Harry let his head fall back with a thunk against the floor.

Nevermind – Scotland it was.

[expired-blueberries]

Ooh what’s the headcanon for frank tennyson you mentioned in the tags in that one post??

okay so forgive the delay in answering but i wanted to rewatch the single episode we ever saw frank in (What Are Little Girls Made Of, aka the one where we first see verdona) just so i could be sure i had my facts straight lol

ANYWAY this is actually gonna be a two part answer, but ill put the headcanons in a list and then ill put more of an analysis (not really an analysis because i dont have time but more of a rambling of my thoughts lol) under a readmore 

- i cant remember if its canon that frank is a lawyer or not. i feel like i remember it being mentioned in canon once but im not positive. so if thats not canon then thats the headcanon

- following that, lawyers work long hours; frank probably isnt at home very often (and we also know this because he only shows up in One. Single. Episode), opting instead to work late at the office. 

- my guess is that natalie is more of the disciplinarian both because of his long house but also because natalie is more uptight than frank is. frank has to be some measure of Not Uptight by virtue of his upbringing with verdona (if he were completely rigid in all things he Would Have Snapped at this point) 

basically frank just isnt in gwens life as often as would be best. i am NOT absolving him of the blame, he 100% should have told gwen of their alien heritage and took more of an interest in her life, but theres only so much time in the day i guess and at the end of it if your only daughter is healthy and seemingly happy, theres only so much you can do.

- also my last headcanon (that does not in any way relate to the previous headcanons) is that frank (and carl and ken and ben) DOES have anodite energy locked away inside of him, but that anodite dna is dormant... until its given a reason not to be. (remember, frank can sense when verdona is around even when shes invisible, despite, in verdonas words, ‘not having the spark’ 

 gwen was able to learn magic and use powers BECAUSE she was exposed to high levels of magic (hex and charmcaster fights when she was 10, along with the charms of bezel)  and also high levels of STRESS (literally her entire life). frank and carl were both kept in the dark about max being a plumber; they both knew he had a double life but they werent sure what it was (carl says this in the episode Grounded, the one where bens parents find out about the omnitrix). frank and carl all told have a pretty calm life, even when they were kids, and despite being around verdona and her mana for some of the time (i imagine she was still just a free spirited then, and probably especially as they got older and were more capable of taking care of themselves, she probably stayed around less and less until she finally left them). if they were put under a high level of stress and a more constant stream of mana, then they would unlock their powers. frank has gwen around, but low stress. carl has decidedly more stress (remember the highbreed fight? also his son is literally the most famous, and most sought after person in the galaxy), but a lower stream of mana. i imagine the omnitrix probably lcoks down the anodite dna so it can keep the human dna sample (ben) as close to human as possible. ken, now in college, has zero mana stream near him, but a relatively high amount of stress (both the dnalien attack and also, just, college). i imagine he might unlock his powers if he were to ever become a plumber and spend more time with gwen. 

when i rewatched the episode, one of the things that stood out to me was frank commenting on not being allowed into gwens room for ‘quite some time.’ thats pretty normal for a teen, but then we remember that gwen has been studying magic for the last five years, since she was ten, so i think thats probably originally when she stopped letting him into her room, so that she could hide her spellbooks and magical artifacts etc. BUT we also know that frank is the one that she invites into her room and the one she tells about meeting with verdona. she DOESNT invite natalie into the room, despite natalie being just downstairs. gwen trusts her dad more than her mom and believes he wont dismiss her concerns (he does dismiss her magic ‘hobby’ but then goes on to explain that there is no such thing as magic, just aliens, so im willing to let that one slide) .

frank smiles when gwen talks about possibly going with verdona, then frowns when natalie talks about ‘wishing [gwen] had taken after [natalies] side of the family’, but then smiles when gwen talks about going again, and says they wont stand in her way. more than anything, including his interactions with verdona, this tells me he (and natalie) have been thinking on this for a long time. he says he and natalie had both thought gwen wasnt an anodite since she hadnt shown any sign of the spark by alien force, but my guess is that, like his mother leaving for anodyne as soon as carl and frank were out of the house (probably late teens or early 20s), he expected that if gwen WERE to be an anodite, she would follow the same path. gwen, however, is sad that they ‘wont stand in her way’. 

gwen needs to feel like shes wanted around. her parents arent telling her to go, but they arent telling her to stay; same with ben. later in the episode, gwen talks about loving her life, but she specifically mentions crime fighting and hobbies, not bringing up family. she isnt as close with her parents as she could/should be, same for them with her. 

theres a few things throughout the episode (usually done or said by verdona) that hint at the type of life frank had growing up. verdona talks multiple times about frank not having the spark, even saying ‘there was nothing [she] could do’ in regards to him at one point. verdona refuses to listen to gwen not wanting to leave at first, dismissing it as a tantrum. she outright says that 16 is too young to make up a mind. verdona is curt with kevin because he isnt an energy being, and doesnt really care for anything ben has to say because hes the same way. once she left, verdona hadnt visited the family for ‘quite some time’, presumably ever since ben and gwen were born, and once she noted they werent anodites, she left again. 

basically, frank (and carl) grew up with a dad with a double life (which they knew about but were NEVER told the NATURE of, not until they forcibly found out during af) and a freespirited mother who seems hung up on her children not being what she wants them to be, and who left as soon as she could. frank, i imagine, probably had to take care of carl a lot as the older brother, especially with a flighty mother around. frank doesnt seem to harbor any hard feelings towards verdona, but seems to take it more as a ‘this is the way she is, there is no changing it’ sort of way. so i guess frank is more used to having to go with the flow than anything else 

(this isnt a jab at verdona - she was away from her home planet and her people, she and her husband were growing apart, and neither of her children were like her; she was effectively alone and i dont necessarily blame her for wanting to leave. granted, i still think she was probably in the wrong more than in the right, but still.) 

listen im SO sorry this is so jumbled i wanted to organize it better but its 7 am and i havent slept yet lol 

[descendantofthesparrow]

Held Back - Harry Hook x Ben’s sibling! Reader - Part 1

Note; before we start, “reader” is non-binary but since I've always imagined Auradon is pretty… old-fashioned and close-minded, they really don’t realize they are NB but know they don’t like being referred to as a “girl” or a “female”. Also, I know “realistically” Adam and Belle wouldn’t neglect their 2nd kid for the first n shit but it’s called a plot point and they are like that for a reason.

Tried to not use “readers” pronouns at all until we get to the good shit where they are like “oh, that’s what that is?”

Also, this will be a 2-part story, the 1st takes place in D2, while the 2nd will take place after D2 and into D3 :3

OH, slight smut in this fic….yeah…it doesn’t get detailed-detailed, but it gets…heated…yeah…if you don’t like even reading this that hint at sex then I’ll put warnings at the beginning and end of those scenes :3 otherwise this is a pretty “safe” fic

Enjoy~

=

Being the daughter, and the 2nd child, to Beast and Belle, wasn’t…what everyone assumed it was. Everyone expected that since you were their 2nd kid, one that wasn't in line for the throne, that you could do anything, get away with anything. That you could just shrug and say ‘oops’ and all would be forgiven. But it wasn’t. It was constant rules and upkeep, never able to run free and scrape your knee when you fell off the tree you had climbed, never able to just scream as you ran along the shoreline, soaking the seawater into your clothes.

Always sit up straight, never cross your legs, never run, never frown, never sneer, don’t talk back, don’t yell, just sit there and -

Be perfect

For the early years of your life, you had loved Ben. Ben your 5-minute older twin brother, Ben who always cared about you, Ben who hid the vase you had broken when you were chasing him through the castle halls when told not to.

Ben; who had refused to let you be pushed aside.

But resentment grew when your parents would always favor him, always praise him; for the bare minimum.

If he got a B in his project? Amazing! Take him out for ice cream.

You? Getting a B+? scolding’s and being told to do better next time, with your dessert taken away for the week.

While you held this resentment for him, you couldn’t hate him, not really, not when he would sneak you his leftover ice cream that was your favorite flavor, one that he hated but your parents didn’t know, not when he would run into your room on stormy nights to make sure you were okay.

Not when he obviously loved you so much.

But you wanted more, you needed more…just something to fill the gap that your parents were leaving. A gap that for some reason they couldn’t see was growing bigger every time they turned their backs on you and turned to Ben.

You were a loner too…most of your “friends” were actually Bens friends, Audrey being one of the few that usually hung out with you outside of Ben and Chad, she was petty as hell sometimes and pretty passive-aggressive to those she didn’t like but she had never seen you as “Bens sister” or “the second child of King beast and Queen Belle”

She just saw you as (y/n), her friend.

When the VKs came, it was almost a relief, finally, the attention was off of you. With Bens coronation and even your parents paying more attention to the new kids instead of picking apart what was wrong with your English essay.

You had tried talking to them, but all four of them were pretty off Standish, and in their own group almost all the time, but after they had chosen good, you and Evie had started talking and had grown a small friendship, one that was nothing compared to what she had with Ben and Mal but you didn't feel as lonely anymore.

Mal had…. acknowledged your existence…yeah, the two of you didn’t really interact much. And you were fine with that.

Especially after Ben told you she tried to memory spell him (you had almost stormed into her dorm guns blazing). Then soon after that, Ben and the other vks were going back to the isle, and you were utterly bored and needed to do something other than sit in your room and disappoint your parents by doing nothing so why don’t go to the isle and disappoint your parents for a good reason!

So now, you stood at the stairway below the core four’s hideout, happy you had taken your denim jacket with you as the isle chill set in.

“so?” Evie asked Ben as he solemnly climbed back down the stairs, his eyes at the ground “where’s Mal?” Ben shook his head, pushing past Evie and Jay and walking down the ally.

“she's not coming back” he muttered before disappearing. You kept your eyes on him in worry, ignoring the other three’s worry over Mal who was safe and sound in her little hideout while your brother, who knew how to hold a sword but sucked at hand to hand, disappeared into the alleys of the isle. 

You moved to go after him but stopped as a much taller, leaner shadow took Bens place in a blink and walked toward you. “hey!” you yelled, the vks stopping in their Mal rant and turning to you “Ben’s gone”

Evie's face melted from worry for Mal to worry for Ben as she stepped next to you and called for Ben as the tall shadow got closer “Ben…Ben!”

It seemed they thought the new shadow was Ben as Evie sighed in relief and looked away, setting her hand on your shoulder “Ben don’t scare us like that!”

“Don’ scare yeh~?” the tall shadow stepped into the light, the teens bright blue eyes sending shocks down your spine as you looked into them “That’s my specialty ~” he purred, his eyes flashing between you and Jay. Evie breathed out his name in annoyance.

Harry…what a nice name...

“what did you do with Ben!” Jay stepped in front of you, not liking the way Harry was eyeing you up. Harry seemed to no understand what Jay was asking before he gasped, turning slightly to point down the ally.

“oh~! We nicked ‘im~!” he nodded as if he was explaining something to a toddler “and if yeh want ta’ see ‘im again~ have Mal come to the chip shop tonight~” his eyes darkened as he gestured to the group with his hook “Alone…Uma wants” his tone lightened again, his eyes looking back at you with curiosity “a little visit~”

He looked at jay again and pursed his lips, looking up and down “aw Jay~” he tilted his head and gave a teasing grin “seems like ye’ lost yer touch~” Jay growled and tried to tackle Harry, but was stopped by Evie. Harry held his hands up and giggled, turning to you and bowing slightly “your highness~” he purred, winking at you and blowing a kiss as he walked away.

The vks mostly ignored his last few actions and Jay hopped up the side of the stairs to get to Mal, while you watched Harry disappear into the ally, your heart going miles a minute.

“wow” you muttered, shaking your head to get rid of the fluffy feeling in your head “get a grip (y/n), he just kidnapped your brother!”

You quickly followed Evie and Carlos as the gate door of the stairway lifted and ascended to the hideout.

-

Leaving you on your own in the hideout was probably the worst choice the vks had made that entire night, as you had nothing to entertain yourself with so you just left and traveled around.

You had somehow walked from the hideout to the docks, and if you remembered correctly, this was the pirate's territory. So, you spun back around to get your ass back to the hideout but stopped as two sets of lust-filled eyes stared back.

But unlike Ben, you smirked as you crouched into a fighting stance, you had taken almost every self-defense class you could. For more than one reason but mainly because even in Auradon there were still nasty people.

The bigger one of the two men rushed at you, but ultimately flopped to the floor as you pivoted on your right foot and swung your left leg around, hitting him directly in the temple and knocking him out.

You grinned at the other man and waved your fingers at him “come get me~” you jeered, laughing to yourself as he yelled and rushed at you.

But before he could take a step closer, a silver hook whacked over his head and knocked the second man out. You pouted and glared at the new person, not caring if it was the teen that had kidnapped your brother an hour ago “hey!”

“hey~!” he mocked back, a teasing smile on his face. He stepped over the two men and curled his hook under your chin, his eyes drifting over your face “now what's a little princess-” you twitched at the nickname “-like yeh traveling alone on the isle~ it's dangerous yeh know?”

You forced down the heat that wanted to cover your face and shrugged, mentally smirking as Harry rose his brow “well…they left me alone in the hideout and I got bored…can't blame me for wanting some excitement eh?”

He squinted at you for a minute, as if he was trying to figure you out…then he finally spoke “yer different than’ I thought yeh would be” he muttered softly, the cool metal of his hook drifting away from your chin and back at his side.

You crossed your arms and cocked your hip, giving the pirate a smirk “what did you think I was going to be like?”

“prissy, stuck up, wouldn’t touch the isle even with a hundred’ foot pole” he shrugged, licking his lips as you rolled your eyes and brew a lock of hair out of your face.

“well as you’ve just experienced, that’s not true” Harry laughed through his nose, looking up towards the barrier and running his free hand through his hair.

“aye…” his shockingly blue eyes drifted back down to meet yours. “so why even come ta the isle? Fer beasty boy? Malsy?”

You looked down at your shoes…you really had no reason to come along did you? Ben and the others could have easily handled getting back Mal without you…so why?

…

“because if my parents are going to disappointed in me it might as well be for a real reason” you muttered, letting your arms drop to your side.

You felt Harry's eyes on you as you stared hard at the ground, willing yourself not to cry. “that sucks” you looked at Harry through your lashes, seeing him staring at you with sad eyes “I thought…I thought all Bora-don parents loved their kids” he laughed uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his head.

“well…they are still human…and just because they are hailed as good people, don’t mean they are good parents” you sighed, crossing your arms again and looking away from Harry's eyes.

“wait…Bora-don?” you laughed, turning back to Harry with a grin. He seemed to be relieved of the subject change and a sharp grin grew on his face.

“aye, it's boring, so, Bora-don~” he giggled, rocking on his heels a bit. A few moments passed then he held his hand out to you.

You stared at it, then him for a few moments. “come on, let's give yer dumbass parents a real reason ta be disappointed in yeh” you smiled and took his hand, laughing quietly to yourself as Harry tugged you away from the docks and toward wherever he was taking you.

-

Your legs were in Harry's lap as the two of you cackled into the dead of night, hands stained with paint and rotten food. Harry had taken you for a night of chaos, destroying vendors with paint, pranking the twin sons of Gaston’s with balloons filled with rotting eggs, and just wreaking havoc in the streets of the isle.

Harry's arm went behind your back as you fell to the side slightly, his bicep pushing against your arm. “thank you Harry” you hummed as you finally calmed down, giving him a closed-lipped smile. “this…this really meant a lot to me” he stared at your lips for a moment before a soft, unsure, smile grew on his lips.

“it was no biggie princess,” your lip twitched at the title “I was kinda already planning ta do all those things anyway…thought it was pretty fun ta do it with someone instead of by myself” you laughed a bit, leaning back on your hands and closing your eyes.

“I get that”  it was silent for a few moments, just you and Harry on top of the abandoned building.

“yeh reacted when I called yeh princess” you twitched again “yeh did it again…is something up with the word?”

You sighed, then opened your eyes, staring into Harry for a moment then looking away “I…I don’t like being referred to like that…it’s not the title its…what it refers to… it's hard to explain”

Harry tilted his head, his hand going on your knee to gently push you to continue “is it the royalty thing?”

“no” you dismissed quickly “its…the princess thing…its…well…ugh” you took your legs off Harry's lap and switched to sitting on your knees, looking at Harry with serious eyes “I've never told anybody this and you have to swear you won't tell anybody else after I tell you” Harry blinked wildly for a moment then looked at you confused.

“lass” you twitched again, making Harry pause for a moment “darling, unless it’s something that will help bring down the barrier or take over the world, I won't tell a soul” you snickered for a moment before you took a deep breath, preparing to tell a person you had just meet that day, one that had kidnapped your brother no less, your greatest secret.

It didn’t help that you felt more comfortable with him in five minutes than you had with your parents for the last 16 years. “I…don’t like it when I'm referred to with girl-like titles or…pronouns” you winced, hands going to block anything that might come your way.

“oh, yeh don’t like she-her pronouns where they are used in a way to refer ta yeh?” Harry clarified, you looked at him slightly odd, expecting some sort of relation or comment, but…it was as if you had just told him you didn’t like a vegetable instead of you not being comfortable with your gender pronouns?

“uh…yeah basically?” you rubbed the back of your head, the other hand picking at the loose threads on your pants.

“yeah, it's not that uncommon ‘ere, I think Desiree is non-binary and one of the other crew members is gender-fluid…not that it's not a big deal but…why have yeh never told anybody else about that? Not even yer brother?” your wide-eyes looked away, hands clenching into your shirt “Darling?”

“um…Auradon isn’t really…accepting of most things…I didn’t even know that…non-binary and gender-fluid were a thing…what do they mean?” you looked back at Harry who seemed to be very surprised “what?”

“nothin’ I'm just surprised tha’ the place of happily ever after’s is kinda…shit?” he laughed, rubbing the back of his head “okay lemme remember what Desiree told me um…Okay non-binary is when you don’t…identify as the gender yeh were at birth so say…okay take Desiree as an example, they’ve been told they’ve been a girl since they were born but they’ve always felt like that didn’t fit, but being a boy didn’t feel right either. so that’s what non-binary is. It's that yeh are neither male nor female yeh are…well you, and most of the time, as far as I know, they use they-them pronouns instead of she or he. but I think some of them use she and they, or he and they…just depends on who uses the pronouns n stuff.”

That…that sounded right…you had never liked female pronouns on you, and ages ago, when you tested male pronouns to yourself, that never felt right either…could you be non-binary? “um, what about gender-fluid?” Harry took a deep breath and looked up.

“Okay, I’m not as knowledgeable on that since the one who actually told me about it didn’t tell me everything…anyway, its under the same...umbrella i think its called as non-binary but genderfluid is when you are both genders, not at the same time…I think, but one day yeh can be female, the other a male, sometimes neither, but that’s what gender-fluid is. They don’t have a fixed gender”

While that sounded interesting…it didn’t feel right to you, you never felt like a girl, and you never felt like a boy… “I think I’m non-binary” you breathed, feeling like a weight was lifting off your entire body. You grinned as Harry smiled.

“awesome, welcome to the club darling” you let yourself fall forward into Harry’s chest, who stiffened slightly and slowly wrapped his arms around you.

“thank you” you muttered quietly, rubbing your cheek into his collarbone. His entire body was still as you cuddled into him, before he relaxed and laid his cheek on your head.

“yer welcome darling” he whispered back, one of his hands going up to cup the back of your head, thumb gently rubbing back and forth.

You jumped as a sudden loud noise crashed below you, and you further ducked into Harry, yelping slightly as he tipped back and the two of you ended up in an odd pile on the rooftop.

Harry tightened his arms around you, his entire body tense again as he listened for any threats. He let out a soft sigh as the high-pitched yowl of a cat rang from where the loud noise came and the animal scuttled off. “yer fine” he whispered, letting his head hit the roof as you sat up and looked around “jus’ a cat”

-smut starts here so if you don’t want to read anything that either includes it or hints at it just scroll till you get to another warning, but this does has some plot points in it soo scroll at ur own risk-

You nodded slightly, twisting around to look at the bleak buildings of the isle. you felt something beneath your legs and you glanced down, feeling heat creep into your face as you realized you were straddling Harry's thigh, it seemed he didn’t fully realize you were doing it as well, his leg rubbing against…well your…area.

You squeaked as he pushed his leg up further and tipped forward, your hands reaching out and slamming next to Harry's head to catch yourself.

His eyes flashed open, red building on his cheeks as your faces were suddenly only two inches apart. “um” you looked to the side, biting your lip “s-sorry” Harry glanced down, the blush spreading to his ears as he realized what the pressure against his leg was. He laid his leg flat and let out a short laugh.

“uh…” you locked eyes again, and a strong shiver was sent down your spine as you looked into his sparkling ocean blue eyes.

You could feel an ache between your legs begin to grow as you lifted yourself back up and hovered over Harry's hips. Harry slowly sat up, stopping inches away from your face, his eyes drifting to your lips for a moment then looking back up at you. “I-“ you whispered, biting your lip as a devious idea came to mind “I have…an idea”

“oh,” Harry whispered back, leaning a bit closer, his hands sliding forward on the ground and resting on your thighs. “Wha’?”

“you know what would really disappoint my parents?” you grinned, your hands reaching up from your sides and gripping onto Harry's jacket, pulling him toward you a bit.

He grinned back, looking down at your lips again “wha’ would tha’ be?”

You leaned in, lips only an inch from his “sleeping with someone they would hate” you could almost feel the wide grin that spread on his lips.

“sounds an excellent idea~” he purred, hands flashing up to your shoulders as yours curled around his neck and pulled him into a hard kiss, teeth clashing and faces warm.

Harry's leg arched up against your butt and forced you forward again, your lips parted with a gasp as Harry leaned back with you. he wrapped his arms around your torso, pressing your chest into his and leaning down to nip at your neck “Harry” you breathed, pressing your lips together as Harry's hands drifted down to your butt and pushed it against his hips, an odd hardness pressing against the ache between your legs. You let out a low whispering moan as he ground against you, his lips smirking against your neck as you started to meet his hips in tandem.

“that’s it darling” he purred, trailing up your neck and sucking on your jaw “jus’ like tha’” you whimpered, ducking your head down and burning into Harry's neck as Harry's hips started to go harder and faster against you. You let out small gasps as your hips twitched and ground back down into Harry's, who let out small groans against your shoulder.

“hang on hang on” Harry grabbed your hips, stopping you and sitting up. One of his hands reached up to the back of your neck and pulled you back, lips crashing into yours in a bruising kiss. His hips started again, the heat between your legs almost becoming unbearable as you trust against them to get rid of the ache.

Harry nipped at your lip, smirking as you opened at his request and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. He sucked at your lip, dragging your tongue into his mouth. You sighed at the feeling, tightening your grip on his jacket as you let him just play with your tongue.

He pulled back, smirking at the trail of saliva that still connected your lips. “shall I take yeh to my apartment yer highness~ yeh should be taken in a place of privacy, not a damned rooftop.” Your hazy mind yelled at you to go with him and you nodded, yelping slightly as Harry grabbed your thighs and stood with ease, your legs locking around his waist. “I’ll take good care of yeh darling~”

-

You let out a breathless gasp as your back hit his bed, the larger teen pouncing on top of you, not waiting for you to stop bouncing, and pressed another bruising kiss to your lips.

You heard him unzip his jacket and throw it across his room, the chain across the back making a loud sound as it hit the wall. He pulled away from you for a moment to rip off his sword sheath and shirt. You felt your face burn as his pecks and abs came into sight, slowly reaching out to trail your fingers against his scars as he pulled his shirt over his head.

You felt him shiver as you brushed your knuckle over his perked nipple and gripped onto his bicep, biting your lip at the look in his eyes as he smirked down at you.

“before we start” he rasped in a low tone, making you press your thighs together to relieve the ache that pulsed “do you really want ta do this?”

“yes” you answered immediately, smiling at his question, good to know that even after you had gone this far, he still asked for consent. He smiled back and leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, noses touching.

“Jus’ tell me ta stop, and I will” you nodded and pulled his lips down into yours, immediately opening your mouth and clashing your tongue with his.

Within seconds your jacket was taken off and Harry pushed your top up above your breasts, unclipping your bra from the back and pushing that over your breasts as well.

You pushed at his chest, Harry immediately pulling away and raising his brow, laughing slightly as you sat up and discarded your top and bra. You pulled him back into the kiss, groaning into his as his hips dipped and pressed into yours again.

He pulled away for a split moment, making you whine in objection and tug on his hair. He leaned down and whispered into your ear, lips brushing against your skin.

“I'll make sure yeh won't be able ta walk properly tomorrow~”

-

Harry started up at the ceiling, his fingers gently trailing up and down your back. Almost every inch of him ached, from the reddening hickeys on his neck, torso, and hips, the scratches on his arms, back, and torso, to the bitemark on his neck.

He looked out his window, noting it was pitch black outside. He sighed and turned his head into you, curling his other arm around you and tugging you tighter into his side, breathing in the scent of your (fav shampoo).

He didn’t know why, but from the moment he had first seen you, your curious eyes peeking from behind Jay's shoulder, he had felt something flutter within him. He wasn’t able to stop thinking about you from then on, even as he taunted Ben in the lost revenge’s brig, unable to get those hypnotic (e/c) eyes out of his head.

He couldn’t ignore the genuine happiness when he saw you again, taking down those goons with ease and confidence. He couldn’t ignore the feeling in his chest when you laughed, the intense fluttering when you smiled at him.

The way heat rushed to his cheeks when you hugged him.

The passion he felt as he looked down at your writing body as he was deep inside you.

-Alright! Yall who don’t like reading smut/stuff that hints at it are good! You may continue reading!-

He shouldn’t feel this way, not for the child of the king that had sent his father to the isle, and dooming hundreds of kids to a floating prison just for being the children of villains. He shouldn’t feel this way about the sibling of the king they had kidnapped and were holding for ransom.

He had only heard of this type of feelings from stories of the heroes of Bora-don, how they had somehow fallen in love within seconds of meeting the other. He had never understood it, calling it stupid that someone would fall in love with someone they just met.

He understood it now, the ache in his chest when he thought of you being hurt when the villains took over the world after Uma got the wand and freed them all. He only had one word to assign it to.

Love.

His grip on your waist tightened, and he buried his face in your hair. He didn’t know if he would ever see you again after today, so he would treasure the moments he had with you now.

You groaned slightly in your sleep, your hand that wasn’t trapped under his pillow reaching up and curling around his neck, pulling yourself further into his neck, your nose pushing into the dip between his shoulder and neck.

He pressed a kiss to your head and closed his eyes, huffing slightly as he realized he felt completely content by your side.

-

You grumbled as beams of light pushed through your closed eyes, you pushed off Harry's chest and glared at the window, reaching to close the curtain that half covered it, huffing as you realized you couldn’t reach it from your spot buried in Harry's side.

You stilled as Harry's arm reached past you and closed the curtain, leaving the room in calmly lit darkness. He put his hand on your head and pushed it back onto his chest, thumb gently caressing the back of your head. “morning” you rasped, tilting your head to rest your chin on Harry's pecs and smiling at the slowly awakening pirate.

“morning darling” he rasped back, his sleepy ocean blue eyes staring back at you. He slowly sat up, shifting you to sit in his lap as he shook his head to force himself to wake up. “wha’ time is it” he grumbled, raising his brow as you reached behind him for your pants, that were hanging off his bed frame, and pulled out your phone.

“8:30” you set your phone on the nightstand and flopped back into Harry's chest, tightly wrapping your arms around him. “what time is the…thing?”

“12” he hummed, pressing his cheek to your head and holding onto you “so…”

“three and a half hours” you did the math for him, pouting as he pulled you back slightly and looked into your eyes.

“Uma wanted me at the ship at nine darling…” you sighed, looking at your lap as you realized your time with the handsome pirate was almost up.

He pressed a kiss to your head and pulled his blankets around you, covering your nakedness and getting out of the bed, aware of your eyes on his butt as he walked over to his dresser.

“Please tell me it wasn’t just me” he paused as he slid his underwear over his hips and looked over at his shoulder at you, eyes widening as he saw a droplet of water appear from behind your hair and fall onto the blanket “please tell me it wasn’t just me that felt something”

He was silent for a few moments, biting his lip as his heart raced with the realization that you felt the same way he did.

He stared at you for a few moments before turning back to his dresser and opening the small box on top and pulling out a necklace.

He turned and walked towards you, giving you a soft smile as he sat in front of you and gently lifted the tread around your neck, trailing his fingers down it and holding the small charm in his fingertips.

You glanced down at it and gasped, the charm was a small metal hook with a small red gem in the middle of the bulb. “this is something I’ve had fer awhile” Harry whispered, looking back up at you and bonking his forehead into yours “Gil made it for meh a long time ago, but it…it didn’t feel right on me…but I kept it cause it felt like it had a purpose…I guess that purpose was ta be on yeh” you sniffed as your vison blurred “what I’m saying is…yes, it wasn’t jus’ you, I felt something too”

He tilted your chin up with his finger, softly smiling at you and leaning in slightly “a feeling I’ve only heard in yer Bora-don tales” you gasped slightly at that, heart going a thousand miles a minute as you realized he had felt the same way you did since you had first seen him last night in the ally “it sounds stupid” he chuckled, looking off for a moment “I never believe those tales of love at first sight or that type of shit but…” he looked back into your eyes, hand trailing from your chin to the back of your neck “I was proved wrong”

He pulled you into a sweet, soft kiss, your eyes closing as he slowly moved his lips against yours, his other hand coming up and taking your hand that wasn’t holding the blanket.

Your mind went hazy as the world around you melted away at the taste of Harry's bruised lips, giving you the softest kiss you had ever gotten from anyone.

He pulled back for a moment, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before sitting back and opening his eyes, smiling as you kept yours closed and swayed slightly “(y/n)” he whispered, realizing he had to go very soon if he wanted to make sure you got back to the core four safely, and make it to the ship on time “ye have ta go now”

You slowly opened your eyes and pouted, tilting forward and hugging Harry tightly “I know, but It's too dangerous for yeh here love, get dressed, and I’ll walk ye back to the hideout” you shook your head against his chest but obeyed after he clicked his tongue and picked one of your legs up and let it drop on the floor.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and stood, grabbing his clothes that had been tossed around in the night and quickly getting dressed, grumbling about his belts that had somehow disappeared.

“under the bed” you snorted, laughing as Harry paused and dropped to his knees and looked under the bed, muttering some curses to himself as he pulled out the two black-brown belts and attached them to his hips.

You sighed as you ran your fingers over the purple hickeys all over your neck and torso, whistling slightly at the dark bite mark on your ribs. You mentally thanked your past self as you pulled your turtle neck over your head and smoothed it down. “yeh ready darling?” you nodded over to your shoes and picked them up, walking over to Harry's bed to put them on.

You finished lacing them up and jumped slightly as Harry's hand appeared in your vision. You looked up slightly, biting your lip as he was fully geared up, a tricorn hat on his head, and a blue headwrap hiding his fluffy back hair. He had lined his eyes thick making the blue pop. You took his head and stood, the two of you walking out of his apartment and towards the hideout.

-

You stopped just a little less than a block away from the hideout, Harry taking off his hat and holding it in front of your faces as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips “I’ll see yeh later yer highness” he whispered with a smile, he took a step back and bowed low, flipping his hat on his head as he stood.

You shared a sad smile and Harry walked away. You watched him for a moment before you called after him, he turned with a raised brow “stay safe…please” you smiled as he nodded.

“as yeh wish” he turned away and walked toward the wharf, leaving you to return to the hideout alone, the cold metal of the hook charm against your chest reminding you that you might never see him again after today.

-

You never did see him again that day, being forced to stay with the car as the others went to get Ben.

It had been a week since cotillion, and you stared at yourself in the mirror, dark bags under your eyes as the clock read 2 am.

It had been hard…hearing yourself being referred to as “she” or “her” or “the sister of king ben” when you had finally found out who you were.

After you had gotten back you had scoured the internet to look up the terms Harry had told you. Non-binary…’Non-binary people not only do not identify as the gender they were assigned at birth; they do not identify with the male or female gender at all’

You were non-binary, and it was so hard to hear yourself be misgendered after years of feeling uncomfortable being referred to as a ‘girl’ then finally figuring yourself after meeting Harry. you thought of telling the core four, but you were scared that they would ask about how you found out, and then you would have to spill the beans about Harry.

You didn’t know what it meant to be non-binary but…this was your journey right? As long as you felt it was right…it had to be the right path…right? You glanced at the scissors on the counter, then back at yourself in the mirror, frowning at your long hair that your mother had demanded that you never cut dramatically, in fear that you would be seen as a boy.

…well fuck that.

You grabbed your scissors in one hand, your hair in the other, and pulled it to the side. You closed your eyes as you held the scissors over your hair.

*snip!*

You hardly looked as you chopped off your long hair, the locks falling on your feet and bathroom floor as you did.

You took a deep breath as you set down the scissors again and quickly looked at yourself, breath-stopping as you did.

“oh” you breathed, leaning forward towards the mirror and reaching up to touch your choppy short hair “...there you are” the cut was ugly and rough but…it felt right…you smiled, running your hands through your hair.

A thought came to mind, and you ran into your room to grab a baggy button-up shirt you had stolen from Ben months ago and quickly threw it over your tank top and buttoned it up.

You took a deep breath and stepped in front of your mirror, your eyes burning as you felt like you were seeing yourself for the first time “there you are” you whispered again, reaching up and grabbing the hook charm as you closed your eyes.

Your name was (y/n), and you were non-binary.

And if that disappointed your parents? Or anyone else in Auradon? Fuck em.

If you were proud of yourself that was all that mattered.

-end of part 1-

2nd parts gonna be after d2 and into D3 with (y/n) telling Ben and the C4 about them being NB and doing things to help themselves feel more like themselves…yep :D hopefully, I did this fic right and represented those who are non-binary correctly, I used the knowledge I had and did some research to make sure I didn’t type any stupid shit.

Oh also enjoy this little sketch dump I did while writing this, it's not (y/n) exactly, but just how I envisioned the “character” if it wasn’t a blank slate “character” lol, and yes they do got a pirate look going on…that’s the point XD they take inspo for their fashion from Harry/pirates.

permtaglist

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012 @daughter-of-the-stars11

@musicarose @random-thoughts-003

@remembered-license @jatp-rules-my-life 

@rintheemolion @thecaptainsgingersnap

@verboetoperee @imtryingthisout

[linkspooky]

The Unforgivable One

Someone in my inbox accused me of not treating the heroes like “flawed human beings”. However I think they had a fundamentaly misunderstanding of the way I read characters, both heroes and villains. I don’t see people as good or bad. I see everyone as equally human and flawed. Bad people don’t do bad things because they’re psychopaths, they often do these things for very understandable and human reasons. You can often hurt someone for very normal reasons. Abusers are in fact human too, and often they don’t really see themselves as bad people. Most people are not in fact cackling villains but in fact perfectly normal human beings going through mental gymnastics to justify themselves. So with that in mind let’s take a look at the incredibly flawed human being that is Todoroki Enji. Obvious content warning for discussion of child abuse under the readmore. If you can’t stomach it please don’t read this post for your own safety.

1. Endeavor’s Motivations

Endeavor’s motivations aren’t hard to understand, because they’re basically the same as Bakugo’s his foil. This is something the manga itself has commented upon. Bakugo gives us a view into the mindset of teen Endeavor and likely the attitude that led him to becoming the adult he is. 

Endeavor is, in a way, as much of a victim of hero society as Bakugo is. In the fact that Enji has been negatively influenced by a lot of the views of hero society. Bakugo and Endeavor both have incredibly flashy quirks more suited to combat and defeating villains rather than saving people which makes them the ideal of hero society’s quirk prejudgice. People are not born equal, that’s the words that the manga start with, and it’s imporatnt to notice that people like Bakugo and Endeavor are heavily favored by hero society but that too comes with its own unique set of pressures. As hero society is ultimately a very toxic system overall that holds up an unhealthy ideal. 

Bakugo is a bully, ultimately. He wants to make other people feel small to make himself feel big. Endeavor is the grown up version of that same bully. However, Bakugo while being a bully Bakugo also has an extremely uhealthy mindset where he is constantly piling up pressure on himself and never really feeling satisfied. A mindset which instead of trying to correct Hero society praises Bakugo for having, and encourages. 

Let me explain. Basically, Bakugo and Endeavor are both the living embodiment of “damned by faint praise.” They are constantly being praised and told how special they are because of their quirks. However, while this may have been enough for them early on in their lives while they are little kids they eventually get the sense that they haven’t really earned the massive amounts of praise people give them. 

This causes both of them to be struck with a serious case of what most people call “Imposter’s Syndrome”, they don’t really feel like they’re the ones getting praised. They don’t feel like they’ve earned it. This is when one of their first mental traps springs. They decide they have to become the really great person that everyone sees them as. They’re always specifically aware of how short they fall as a hero from the expectations of everyone around them, and they are constantly working to make the difference up. 

Endeavor and Bakugo are people who have incredible drive, and also an incredible motivation to improve themselves. This has been stated before by the story several times but none of these are bad traits to have. Wanting to improve yourself. Wanting to live up to everyone’s expectations of you, or even your own expectations of yourself can lead to you pushing yourself to do good things. 

However, the problem is for both Bakugo and Endeavor that no matter how much they build themselves up in their head they’re building on very flimsy foundations. Both of them are building towers of sand, or houses of cards. They have a lot of self-confidence in themselves but it’s always fragile. Because they have confidence, but no security in themselves. They are extremely insecure individuals. 

They both pile up an incredible amounts of stress and pressure on themselves to be the best, or at least to be as good as they think they should be, but they also both suffer from the two same critical flaws. Number one, they have been taught no healthy ways to deal with this negative buildup of stress. This is once again one of the faults of hero society, if people are strong then nobody around them will ever see them as week. 

Bakugo is kidnapped by a villain at the start of the manga, not a single person is worried that he might be traumatized from nearly being killed. Of course not he has an incredibly powerful quirk. He’s strong, so he must not suffer from trauma like the weak kids. 

Bakugo is uniquely pressured because he has a strong quirk, everyone around him expects him to be strong at all times and Bakugo himself does not allow himself to show any vulnerability. Bakugo legitimately believes that if he was strong enough, he would never fail, never lose. Bakugo basically doesn’t allow himself to be human in any of the ways that count. Bakugo only sees himself but that’s a double edged sword, when things go wrong the fault has to be with Bakugo, it’s because Bakugo was weak. So, Bakugo has been severely emotionally neglected by the institutions around him including UA, which after Bakugo has been kidnapped by several murderous villains did not think to check if a fifteen year old was traumatized and mentally healthy enough to return to classes. 

The second flaw in their mindset is that they are continually forced to prove themselves. They work hard, but feel no satisfaction no matter what they accomplish. Even if they have the most resolved cases, even if they get number one in the tournament. This is because once again, the enormous pressure and expectations they push onto themselves. If a Straight A student gets A’s, it’s not extraordinary he’s merely doing what’s expected. If a C student gets an A that’s an accomplishment. Their expectations are so high for themselves that they can literally never be met, and therefore they feel no relief from the constant piling up of expectations and stress. 

This is why Bakugo is fundamentally insecure. He’s not good enough to meet his own standards, and it seems like everyone else exists to prove how small he is. Bakugo sees the world as everyone else looking down on him because he’s so stuck in his own head. Bakugo cannot emotionally process this, and because of that at even the smallest upset he starts crying and acting like a child because he just can’t handle these emotions. He’s unstable, mentally always in a very precarious place. 

What Bakugo wants is to feel good about himself. He wants to feel like all his hard work is accomplishing something. However, Bakugo’s self esteem comes not from what he’s accomplished but rather that feeling of being better than others, the societal pressure to be the best, which is why he not only has to be the strongest but has to put others down below him. Not only that, but if he feels like somebody is disrespecting him or not taking him seriously then Bakugo even goes as far as to lash out violently. He literally tried to attack an unconscious Todoroki (who was holding back due ot having flashbacks of his father in the middle of a fight against Bakugo... hmm, i wonder why). Bakugo’s mindset is very insular. Bakugo just kind of assumes that everybody thinks exactly the same way he does, because he’s not emotionally intelligent really to understand other people. So he just assumes Todoroki holding back is an intentional insult against him and gets angry. In Bakugo’s mind it’s justifable to be violent against an unconscious Todoroki, because Todoroki’s the one intentionally provoking him and looking down on him. 

Bakugo and Endeavor go through a similiar arc. They both build these giant towers on foundations of sand, only to watch them crumble and be left with nothing. They both realize that they were fighting for the wrong thing all this time. 

When they realize they were fighting for the wrong thing, all they can feel is emptiness and their own personal disatisfaction. Bakugo and Endeavor were chasing something they were never really going to have in the first place, because even if they became the number one hero, even if they were the strongest in the world it would never be enough for them. Which means they’ve accumulated all this stress but have no healthy way to deal with it so they vent it out. Literally the only thing Bakugo can think of to do when he’s at his limit is beat up Deku one more time and try to make himself feel strong again and prove that his way of doing things wasn’t wrong. 

Bakugo and Endeavor find themselves at similiar points. They both realize everything they were devoting themselves for was wrong from the start, and they were never going to get what they wanted out of life. While Endeavor’s reasons are not necessarily sympathetic, they are at least understandable and human. Endeavor feels like he’s owed a reward for all of his hard work. He wants to feel like he’s someone special and important. Endeavor and Bakugo are selfish yes, but a selfish drive doesn’t have to be a bad thing necessarily. Endeavor and Bakugo are always pushing themselves to be the absolute best version of themselves because they believe in society’s pressure to be the best wholeheartedly. They’re also continually made to feel worse than everyone around them. Their tremendous egos are actually fueld by very small insecurities. 

They also much like human beings don’t absolutely think they are right all the time. Bakugo and Endeavor both have hit their limits so to speak. Their struggles are sisyphian. They push the boulder up the hill, watch it roll down, push the boulder up the hill, watch it roll down and are slowly realizing that all of their struggles are getting them absolutely nowhere. At which point both of them begin to self reflect and think they may have been going about things all wrong from the start. Bakugo and Endeavor both have some awareness of how unhealthy their mindset is, or at least that it’s not getting them what they want.  They are sometimes capable of questioning themselves and where they’ve gone wrong. 

2. A Show Parent

Psychological projection is a defense mechanism people subconsciously employ in order to cope with difficult feelings or emotions. Psychological projection involves projecting undesirable feelings or emotions onto someone else, rather than admitting to or dealing with the unwanted feelings.

Endeavor is constantly battling with his own feelings of inferiority in weakness. However rather than process these feelings in healthy ways, Endeavor has always chosen to take his feelings out on his family. The reason why is because from the start Endeavor has viewed his family in a selfish way, they existed, and continue to exist for him and not the other way around. 

The way Enji projects on his family is actually for pretty common every day reasons. Enji himself feels like he can’t achieve what he wanted out of life. He wasn’t good enough to become number one, he couldn’t hack it and therefore he’ll never be good enough. That’s why he made the decision to instead try to live vicariously through Shoto, who he sees as an extension of himself. Enji has projected all of his wants and desires entirely onto Shoto. When he was raising Shoto, it was never about having Shoto’s needs met, but rather what Enji’s wants were. 

Enji feels that he himself is not good enough so he projects himself onto Shoto to accomplish what he can’t, belcause he thinks he will be able to find the fulfillment he’s seeking that way. It’s the same as a person with dreams of becoming an actor pushing their child onto the stage at young ages instead of letting them go to school with all of the other kids. It’s the same as a person who wasn’t able to achieve their dreams in sports pushing their kid to be good at sports. In that sense Enji is not Todoroki’s father, he is his coach, or his manager. He’s not responsible for taking care of a child he’s raising them for a purpose. 

This is the reason why we see Enji get physically angry at Shoto. Enji has so thoroughly projected himself onto Shoto, that anything Shoto wants outside of what Enji wants, Enji perceives as resistance. Enji does not seem to get that a five year old can’t take the intensive training because he sees himself as that five year old. He thinks that Shoto must just not want it enough. That he’s not motivated enough. That he’s resisting him purposefully. It’s the same reason as Bakugo getting violent towards the unconscious Shoto near the end, when Shoto stopped fighting him seriously Bakugo in his fragility perceived it as Shoto holding back from him on purpose because he was looking down on him. 

If Shoto succeeds then Enji expects to feel that success. If Shoto fails that means Enji is not only reminded of his own inferiority again, but he also is forced to relive his lost dreams. Shoto doesn’t know any of that though, he’s just Shoto, just a kid, so of course he’s going to fall short of Enji’s extremely schewed expectations which is where the negative feedback loop beings. 

Because, even though Enji is using his family to try to make himself feel better that doesn’t work either. The truth is Enji can’t live vicariously through his son. Shoto’s success is not his success, and Shoto himself even wants nothing to do with him anymore. Enji has been using his family for completely selfish reasons up to this point and we reach a point in the narrative where Enji at least seems to grasp the fallout of his actions. Enji is at least aware of the fact that his family doesn’t like him, and that he’s done a bad. 

Reconciliation and calm are both stages that are written into the cycle of abuse for a reason. Most abusers are not heartless monsters, but rather humans. The frightening thing is abuse is a very normal thing, that arises from normal circumstances. Almost anybody can become an abuser, because it’s an abuse of power, it’s a cycle people get trapped in. A lot of abusers realize that what they are doing is wrong, this is called th reconciliation stage of abuse. Most people do in fact feel bad about it when they hurt another person and want to make ammends. 

The reason abuse repeats however is because the core behavior does not change, and the power dynamic remains in place. Abusers apologize for the wounds they caused, but don’t really address the problems of their behavior on a deeper level, and because of that they let the tensions build again and another incident always occurs. 

So what we are seeing post All Might retirement is not really a change in Enji’s behavior, because the core of who he is remains the same. He has perhaps had a change in motivation, he’s realized that trying to be the number one hero is never going to get him what he wants, and the way he’s treated his family has made his family hate him. However, he never addresses the core of the issue which is that he thinks his family exists for his sake. This is not my analysis these are things Enji has literally said, not in the tournament arc but post Kamino. Endeavor still says I’m going to leave everything to Shoto. Not even asking what Shoto wants to be. He still sees Shoto as his heir who exists to carry on his legacy.

 Enji is still essentially doing exactly what he did before and expecting a different result. He even says so to Shoto, if he’s a good enough hero, then Shoto will watch him, and be proud of him. These are Endeavor’s own selfish motivaions and not what the other people around him really want him to do. He’s doing this for the acknowledgement he thinks he deserves, and the attention from his family he thinks he deserves and not really for altruisitic or heroic reasons. 

Enji repeats a lot of his behavior from before. He still piles attention and attention onto Shoto that Shoto does not want. He is still essentially projecting himself onto Shoto and the rest of his family, that behavior has not changed, it’s just his method. He thinks if he becomes number one dad now instead of number one hero that will get him the sense of accomplishment he craves. The problem is underneath all of his actions, Enji has yet to really grasp what he did wrong. He doesn’t grasp how selfish his actions are. He doesn’t seem to understand how messed up it is, that he seems to think his family exists for his sake. He found a wife, he had children, he had Shoto, not because he wanted to make a family happy but because he wanted to use them to further his own amibtions to become a hero. 

Enji is both capable of realizing that he hurt people, and feeling genuine remorse fo his actions but also not really making any signficant changes for his behavior. The fact that both of these can be true simultaneously is what allows abuse to continue. 

While he knows he did something wrong you also get a sense he doesn’t truly understand how truly heinous some of his actions were. Enji always has this narrative inside of his head that he simply made a mistake somewhere along the way, that he acted without even realizing what he was doing. 

It’s not that Natsuo is angry with him and will never stop being angry with him, it’s that Enji has somehow said the wrong words by mistake. It’s not that Enji violently beat a child because he was angry that child wasn’t living up to his impossible standards, but Enji somehow just ignored Shoto’s wishes. 

He always makes it sound like it was accidental, like he didn’t know what he was doing, like he somehow didn’t mean to abuse them. He wasn’t beating up a little kid he just ignored Shoto’s wishes and it somehow went wrong along the way. This complete lack of culpability that Enji has towards his own actions is also what leads him to repeat several really bad aspects of his behavior, such as hyperfocusing on Shoto to the point of ignoring Fuyumi and Natsuo, forcing Shoto to live up to his legacy and accept his help, still vicariously living through Shoto instead of letting Shoto be his own person. 

Enji doesn’t address the root cause of the behavior and doesn’t change himself in any real way. The bad behavior repeats. The cycle continues. What Enji has been avoiding and what he needs to acknowledge is that there was genuine malice in the way he treated his kids. He sees his whole family as existing for his sake, to meet his own emotional needs and when they failed he always took it out on them. 

For Enji it’s always Enji first and everyone else second. It’s always primarily about what Enji wants. He doesn’t seem other people, only himself, and what he wants. That’s why when Shoto literally has half of his face burned off as a result of Enji’s actions, all Enji really cares about is that it’s going to interrupt Shoto’s training. 

Whenever Enji’s family existed outside of what he wanted them to be, or got in his way in any significant way he always vented his frustation on them. He resorts to hitting for the same reason that Bakugo always feels the need to bully Deku. A grown up bully. Enji needs to make others feel small to feel assured of his own bigness. Deku has to always be underneath Bakugo, otherwise Bakugo’s worthless. Enji has to put his family back in their place. If they resist or show desires of their own otuside of what Enji needs for them he turns violent to try to force them back. It all arises from an incredibly unhealthy way of viewing himself and his own emotions yes, but it’s also something that other people suffer the consequences of. 

His family exists for his sake, which is why he’s at the same time both extremely controlling of them, but also just straight up ignores the ones who aren’t useful to him. 

These aren’t a result of Enji going too far, these are all intentional cases of neglect. Especially if you consider the way Natsuo and the others were treated. Enji didn’t even bother to take care of them and raise them as his children because they weren’t of any use to his ambitions. 

He straight up had no presence in their lives whatsoever. These are things he intentionally chose to do. For his own selfish reasons, because he thought his children existed for his own happiness and not the other way around that he was not responsible for his children. 

These aren’t things that can happen on accident. Neglect is as much of an abusive behavior as what was done to Shoto. It’s a parent failing even their basic responsibilities as a parent to be present and around in their child’s life. 

Even the children he neglects he still controls though. When Natsuo’s cooking wasn’t good enough, Enji forced him to stop cooking anymore. 

Enji had to have intentionally does these things, but when confronted with them he always acts clueless. He even claims to Natsuo’s face it was never his intention to shut any of them out of his life, even though he literally says on panel in the past that Shoto shouldn’t pay attention to his siblings because his brothers were failures. 

He’s even referred to his other children as things like Shoto is somehow different from them. So how can both of these things be true at the same time? Enji had to have chosen to done these things to intentionally neglect his family, so how can he claim he never meant to shut them out of his life? How can Enji both get genuinely hateful of his children, especially Shoto when they don’t act the way he wants them to, and yet also want to do the best for his family? How can he be completely absent in Natsuo’s life his entire life and yet claim to have wanted the best for him? How is Enji capable of feeling genuine remorse for his actions and realizing that they are wrong, and still have done what he did? It’s at this point we reach the psyhological excuses. The great many hoops that he’s jumped through and mental gymnastics Enji has performed to justify himself. 

3. The Shadow of the Hero

So there seems to be two contradictory sides to Enji. There is Endeavor the hero who stops at nothing to be number one who sees nothing else but his ambition and his burning drive to be better, and then there’s Todoroki Enji the family man who just seems to be sort of awkward, emotionally absent, and not at all present in his children’s lives. 

Endeavor is overconfident, short tempered, and also an extremely volatile person who will get violently angry if the wrong buttons are pushed. Enji is very quiet and almost self reflective. As if Endeavor is almost always burning, and Enji is burnt out. We see this same kind of emotional dissonance happen with Bakugo too, Bakugo is either on top of the world at which point he’s firing on all cyllinders and acts like an overenthusiastic angry idiot, or he’s very quiet, withdrawn and tends to dump on himself a lot. It’s important to remember that neither of them handle their emotions in any kind of remotely healthy way, so in Enji’s case it makes sense that when he’s not angry he just becomes kind of withdrawn and empty. A person who doesn’t know how to deal with emotions becomes very emotionally awkward when they’re asked to do anything besides, be angry, or punch a villain. 

However it goes to a much more extreme extent with Endeavor. To the point where it does almost seem like there are two people. There’s the much more calmer, and reasonable Enji that he has been showing around his family lately.

Which even Natsuo says that this change is so sudden and different it’s unnatural. I call this “good behavior” Enji. It’s when he’s restraining himself and holding himself back because he has at least realized that a lot of his interactions with his family in the past were wrong. But good behavior once again doesn’t necessarily mean a change in one’s self, because as stated above there’s a stage in the cycle of abuse specifically for when the abuser starts acting better for a period of time. 

There has always been two faces to Endeavor. Not only does Endeavor see himself that way, but that’s also the way the public in general reacts to him. There is Endeavor the hero, and Enji the person. Shoto even comments on this word for word, that he knows Enji is a very respectable hero especially to the public but that doesn’t cancel out a single thing he did. 

This is where we get into the psychological excuses. Enji’s arc deals with heavy Jungian themes, specifically that of the shadow. 

In Jungian psychology, the "shadow", "Id", or "shadow aspect/archetype" may refer to (1) an unconscious aspect of the personality which the conscious ego does not identify in itself, or (2) the entirety of the unconscious, i.e., everything of which a person is not fully conscious. In short, the shadow is the unknown side.

Because one tends to reject or remain ignorant of the least desirable aspects of one's personality, the shadow is largely negative. There are, however, positive aspects that may also remain hidden in one's shadow (especially in people with low self-esteem, anxieties, and false beliefs).

For Enji, his conscious personality is Endeavor the hero. That’s the one everyone sees and reacts to. However, his shadow his the actions he’s done to his own family, what he keeps hidden and concealed from the world. The things he refuses to acknowledge such as how selfish his actions truly were. 

Enji has a narrative for himself where everything he did was just because he wanted to be the best possible hero he can be. Even though his actions are entirely selfish, he’s convinced himself that he’s doing these things for Shoto, for his family. The problem is Enji’s entire identity is so focused around being a hero that he doesn’t really have an identity, or much of a personality outside of his career as a hero which is why he’s so underdeveloped as a person. Being a hero is his life. He doesn’t see the parts of his life that don’t relate to his career as a hero. 

He’s able to ignore the selfish aspect of his actions. All of the contrdictory parts of his actions because he’s in denial. He still sees himself as that hero who wanted to be number one. He thinks everything he did was in favor of that and he just messed up along the way. It doesn’t occur to him that he had geniune malice towards his children, or his family because he chooses to ignore those inconvenient points of his psychology. 

Enji is, two people in a sense. It’s because he revolves everything in his life around being the best hero he absolutely can be, that he doesn’t see how his actions are downright villainous. Enji is essentially trying to have it both ways. He thinks he can become the best hero that he can be, and also the best dad at the same time. 

However, his behavior is the same. He’s not trying to prove himself as a father not really, he’s just doing the same thing he always did which is put his job as a hero above everything else. Enji is just so completely in his own head, so in denial of his own actions that he just doesn’t see these things.

Enji’s actions are a shadow that have escaped from him because his way of atoning and fighting against his past actions is to just do the same thing he’s always did and try his best as a hero. Even though being a hero is literally what caused him to abuse his family, and Natsuo and Todoroki have both pointed out several times that being a good hero doesn’t really atone for what he did in any real way. 

Enji’s narrative for himself is that his attempt to be number one was a good thing. That his striving to be the best hero he could be was a good thing. It just somehow got bad results for him. He doesn’t really understand how he got to point A and point B, and part of that is again society’s image of Endeavor the Hero is pretty messed up too. Everyone around him praises Endeavor for being a hero while absolutely nobody talks about what happened in his home life and therefore Endeavor faces no real consequences for it. 

Everyone sees this heroic figure out of the image that Enji projects. Because that’s the light. That’s who he is on the surface. If you look on the surface of his actions only you just see a guy who doesn’t know how to give up, and was trying his best to be number one. It almost looks heroic to see his struggle. However, once again if you only view things from the surface you can’t really understand him or his actions. Which is why Endeavor only viewing himself as Endeavor the hero misses his own shadow and what he’s done to the other people around him. 

The person who Endeavor thinks he is, and who Enji really is are two different people. This is because of that unacknowledged shadow. It’s because Endeavor has this huge selfish element to his actions that he’s just completely in denial of.  Not because he doesn’t feel guilt for his actions, but because he does and he’s avoiding it. 

Enji sees himself in the high end Nomu he struggles against, but even that is an incorrect viewing of himself. Nomus are victims, ultimately. They were people who were kidnapped and had multiple quirks loaded into them in the name of mad science. The Nomu is Todoroki, Enji is Ujiko. He’s the one who created several children trying to mix quirks together for his own purposes and then dodged responsibility for that for years. He’s not the monster, he’s Doctor Frankenstein himself. 

Enji when confronted with these behaviors, with the absolute worst of his personality, and the dark sides of all of his intentions never acknowledges them. He never tries to integrate them into who he is as a person. He just tries to fight against them and defeat them. 

“Unless we do conscious work on it, the shadow is almost always projected; that is it is neatly liad on someone or something else we do so we do not take responsibility for it.” Robert Jonson

You don’t destroy a shadow. You don’t make the bad things you’ve done and the bad parts of your personality go away.  The only way to defeat the shadow is to integrate it and consciously acknowledge that you are like this. This shadow stuff is not something I’m applying to the text either, the text directly references it. 

This is Jungian symbolism. The light of the conscious mind creates the shadow. It’s because people only pay attention to Endeavor that hero, that his shadow Enji the person becomes thicker and blacker. The longer people go without acknowledging it, the darker his shadow will become. 

Which is why Dabi is in a way his shadow as well. The violent parts of his personality that Enji has failed to acknowledge or do anything about, part of Enji that still believes that the only thing that matters is strength. 

Enji would never approve of Dabi’s actions, and yet Enji also created Dabi. Once again think of frankenstein and the monster. Dabi wouldn’t even exist if Enji had never abused his family. The monster argues against Doctor Frankenstein that yes he has murdered people, but he never would have existed in the first place unless the doctor had created him which manes the doctor shares respsonsibility for even the unintended consequences of his actions. A person is responsible for their shadow, intentional or not. Dabi is the shadow of Endeavor’s actions in human form. 

He exists to bring into conflict what Enji has been ignoring. That he can’t be good to his family and be a good hero at the same time, because his drive to be a hero was the source of his abusive behavior in the first place and drove him to do what he did to his family. 

Enji is a very selfish person who hasn’t confronted his own selfishness in any significant way. Do I care that he’s only atoning for selfish reasons. No, that’s not the problem exactly. You could argue that all atonement is selfish in nature. The fact that Bakugo and Enji are very self-driven individuals is not necessarily the problem, it’s not a bad thing to want to be selfish, or even desire to better yourself. It can lead to good things. It’s that in Enji’s case, his selfishness always comes at the expense of others. He completely shuts people out and doesn’t even see them. All he sees is what he wants to see. Above all else this viewpoint of the world is very narrow and self-serving. He only sees the surface of his own actions. He only ever sees himself as the hero and can’t acknowledge that to his family he’s the villain. 

Enji only ever saw himself and his self-centered view of the world, and everybody else, including the children he was responsible for and the wife he forced a marriage on only ever got in his way, which is why he resented them. If Enji wants to atone that’s one thing, but if Enji wants to stop being such a selfish person and truly do things for the sake of his family as he’s stated he wants to in the past that means acknowledging his actions. 

Enji continues to be a hero because that’s what he wants, it’s what he’s built his whole life around. He even sees his path forward to atonement as just continuing to do his job as a hero, even when he’s told by Natsuo that won’t work. Which is why the only real substantial way for Enji to change is to actually have to give something up. To acknowledge that he’s in fact a bad hero. He even stated himself, there’s something he wants even more than being a hero now. He wants Toya to be there. 

Which is why Dabi is such an important character because he not only forces Enji to realize the worst of his actions but also to choose, between what is best for himself and his career as a hero which is the only thing he’s ever really cared about and what is best for his family. It’s only in the confrontation with his shadow that we can see what Enji is really made of. 

[mikemoon]

( choi yeonjun, cis man ) have you seen MICHAEL “MIKE” MOON ? i heard HE is a COMPUTER SCIENCE MAJOR at SAN VERTO COLLEGE and an EMPLOYEE at HALL OF FILM. they’re 22 years old and they’ve been living in san verto for 6 YEARS. they tend to be CARE-FREE & ADVENTUROUS, but rumor has it they can also be GRUMPY & CLUMSY. [ tally, 25, gmt+4, she/her ] @foolsstarters​

tw // mentions of depression, cheating, divorce, underage drinking and smoking

michael moon, born myungjun moon –– choi yeonjun fc

birthday: september 9, 1998 - 22 yrs old ; virgo

cis man, he/him, bisexual

born and raised in philadelphia, pennsylvania

mike grew up being an only child, and always around the company of his mother in their house. his father was always traveling back and forth from south korea to the states for work. his parents have met at work on one of his father’s trips to the states, and they fell in love. his mother being american-born, she couldn’t really leave philadelphia. she loved it there. so they decided to keep it a long distance relationship.

sometime during those fleeting meetings, she had gotten pregnant with michael. and of course, his father spoiled them both, giving them everything they wanted. he never left them to fend for themselves. when the boy was born, his father named him myungjun, and his mother decided to name him michael for his english name. the nicknames jun, mike, and sometimes junnie were often heard whenever his parents or childhood friends called him.

up until mike was five years old in 2004, he’s lived with his mother, while his father was leaving and coming back for a week or two. but that year, he’s finally moved to the states and stayed with them for longer nights. he even finally married michael’s mother. of course, he still disappeared for a few days or weeks on end for work.

but that was also the year michael’s mother found out that her husband was with another woman. michael has never seen his mother break down like that before. sadly, the young boy was peering into the room when the fight happened and witnessed everything. his mother made her partner choose between the two women, and he eventually told her that he was going to divorce his first wife for her, and appeared to have gone through with his promise. because after that incident, he’s been around more often.

by early 2015, when michael had just turned 16, his mother had gotten a teaching job in ashdown academy, which resulted in their move to san verto, california. meaning, new school and new friends for mike. meanwhile, his dad was still traveling a lot for business and coming back whenever he could.

michael has grown up as a cheerful and energetic child. his friends at any school he went to would tell you how much of a great friend he is, how trustworthy and caring he is. it was so easy for him to make friends anywhere. he was the type of friend who would smile at you and listen to you talk on and on about whatever you liked, and the type who would cheer you on with anything you want to achieve. he wanted everyone to feel included and loved.

so it wasn’t that hard for him to get along with new people once he moved to town. he was a very social person. 

he was also the type of teenager who was out there doing things he wasn’t supposed to. he missed his old friends and his old home, but he wanted to have fun with all the new kids he was befriending. that simply resulted in him going to house parties as an underaged teen to ‘have fun’. his mother didn’t approve of him coming home very late at night, clearly smelling like smoke and alcohol. 

internally he was a depressed mess. of course, no one is completely happy as they grow up. his family was a mess, even if it appeared as fine to everyone else. his family life affected him so much while growing up. mike sometimes could disappear for a few days in his room, and it was always during some of his bad spells.

what made it worse was the day he found out the truth.

it was 2017 when michael walked into his father’s office in their house, looking for him to ask him about something. and instead of finding the man, he found a stack of papers poking from underneath his father’s laptop. upon closer look, they appeared to be divorce papers. michael’s heart sunk, thinking his parents were breaking it off.

michael is a curious kid, he couldn’t help but close the door and read the papers. but what he saw wasn’t his mother’s name, it was another woman. his heart raced, as he put things back where they were and immediately left the room. michael had found out one of his father’s many secrets. he never divorced his first wife all those years ago. he lied and somehow stayed with both women without suspicion... well, until now. clearly the other woman was breaking it off for a reason. 

michael couldn’t help his curiosity. he came back to the room later that night and snapped as many pictures as he could of evidence he could find. he even found his father’s phone (which was easy to figure out the password of) and found a plethora of pictures of the man with a different family, different kids and a different partner. he airdropped the pictures to himself to avoid leaving any traces behind and quickly left again.

a quick search on facebook, and he managed to find the first wife. it was easy with the name and pictures he had. if anything, michael prided himself on being a good internet detective... or stalker. he spent everyday trying to find the rest of the family on the internet. he found the woman’s young daughter on instagram and twitter, along with her older son’s accounts as well. it felt weird. it was a constant “now what?” for michael. he’s found them. what was he going to do now? he couldn’t just message them and tell them everything. and he couldn’t break his mother’s heart by letting her know.

except he had to let her know. he could never live with the fact that he knew his father was betraying her this entire time. and so michael told her everything, and after comforting her all night when she broke down yet again, she immediately ended things and asked for a divorce. now it was just michael and his mother, all alone. and for once, having to get by on their own.

thankfully they were safe, with his mother’s amazing money management skills, and the job she got at the academy, they managed to live their regular lives despite the heavy feeling of a broken family looming around them. the two just wanted to be happy again.

michael spent the next few years trying to lead a normal life. his mental health had gotten worse after everything he’s found out. he went to college, and he continued trying to do well in school. he really wasn’t the best when it came to grades, but he was trying his best.

and truthfully, he couldn’t help but make a few spare accounts on some social medias to follow his father’s other family.

but he eventually decided to just let it go, assuming they definitely knew about his mother and himself, which would explain the first divorce. so he decided to put it in the past and move on.

his mother has moved on as well. she found herself someone who actually cares about her so much (mike’s stupid ass has done a secret background check to make sure this dude wasn’t another cheater lmaoo) and now mike isn’t an only child anymore. it’s been 2 years since his little sister yuna was born, and he loves her so much. he still isn’t used to the idea of a new fatherly figure in his life, but he’s.... getting there. 

little dumb hcs

mike majors in computer science at san verto college, with a concentration in game development and design

hes a lil gamer boy,,, u KNOW he’s that annoying dude with a gamer chair that has a sound system in it khjkh

he posted a few videos on youtube but rly just ditched the channel after like a month. he still posts whenever he feels like it tho and it’s usually just.... messy gaming videos or opinions no one asked for

his dad’s dumb ass still doesn’t know it was mike who exposed him to his mother. he thinks she found the divorce papers on her own. therefore.... mike still gets money from his dad on a monthly basis and gets to keep the car he bought him for his 18th birthday lmaooooo a win 

you probably heard me say this before but.... theres a hc that mike is allergic to eggs. simply bc the idea of him shopping in the vegan section is funny to me 

this boy has a love for frogs ? idk where the obsession came from but you bet you’re gonna see a cute lil frog sticker on everything he owns. he doodles them on everything too ? it’s a habit at this point. he also knows random little facts about them and tells them to anyone who didnt ask for them 

. embarrassing but.. this dude... omg.... a big sana stan.... he has a photocard collection.... he went to a twice concert like 5 times.... dont be surprised if you see a feel special sana photocard in his phonecase.... im embarrassed of him 

he also has a hyunjin mcdonalds hashbrown photocard framed that a friend gave to him for christmas bc.. it’s a rare card,,, and you can see it on a table by the door when you walk into his apartment 😭

mike also has a habit of buying things he doesn’t need ?? he has a plushie collection that has been growing since he was young, and now is getting bigger with the rise of squishmallows

there’s this random hc where he drunk bought a cardboard cutout of john cena ,,,, don’t ask,,, it’s currently guarding his room back at his mom’s house djfhdj

can you tell mike is my most embarrassing , most chaotic character,, 

also he moved out after graduating school and when he started to attend college,,,, gimme some roomies pls

connection ideas ??

michael’s childhood friends; could’ve gone to the same school back in philly before he moved away ?? 

friends he made when he moved to town?? mike is very social and was... kinda popular in school, i’d say. he made friends with basically anyone he found interesting

michael’s ex; they could’ve ended on a bad note, or even on a good one and ended up being friends. im really up for plotting anything.

michael’s best friend; PLEASE i love wholesome best friend plots. it doesn’t matter if they met in san verto or philly

roomies pls !!! i would love it if he could have some roommates who have to deal with his very . peculiar decorating habits 

co workers ?? customers ? regulars ? he works at hall of film ! 

like this to plot or hmu !

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 5) John Deacon x Reader Series

GIF: @johndeac​

Apologies for the delay! Work has been an absolute shit fest. The big show I’m on got canceled, but we still have to finish the season at some point so oof. Also, my boss is moving to Italy? Pray for my sanity, folks.

Series Summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Strong language. Feelings of anxiety. Angst (oooo!)

Chapter Notes: I've rewritten this chapter so many times that I don't even know what it is anymore. Angst is hard, my dudes! Why can't it all be flirty glances and quick banter?!

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Songs Mentioned:

Moonlight in Vermont - Frank Sinatra

Blues Run The Game - Jackson C. Frank

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @brianmays-hair @deacyblues @squishy-geckboye @hae-bee @aprilaady @theresalexis @uglipotata72829

- - - - - - -

September 1982 - The Music Inn, New York City

“Bri, get a load of all these fucking maracas!”

Brian makes his way over to where Roger is gazing at a massive wall adorned with shaker-filled shelves, dipping his head low to avoid the sea of guitars hanging from the ceiling above his long frame. 

Queen was back in New York for their first-ever appearance on Saturday Night Live. Finding time in between the intensive rehearsals during the week had been hard, but Freddie insisted they would make the time for his favorite New Yorkers. When the time was finally found, he, of course, was unavailable, off antiquing at some of Manhattan’s luxury spots but promised to meet up with the group later on. 

The Limbs managed to snag the other three men for a trip to the historic Music Inn. Nestled in the heart of Greenwich Village, the dingy treasure trove was located a stone’s throw away from the city’s most prominent folk clubs that boasted discovering the talents of Bob Dylan and Simon & Garfunkel. 

You were quite confident that your newfound English friends would love it. Every visible space was stuffed or covered with an abundance of musical paraphernalia. So much so that you had been in the store dozens of times without ever finding out what color the walls were. Its layout was always changing to fit the ever-growing amount of items displayed, the familiar specks of dust that sparkled in the sunlight being the only constants.

“Hey, Jeff!” Steve calls out to the eccentric owner. “Where are these from?” 

The aging hippie shuffles over. “Mostly South America,” he explains in his usual gravelly drawl. “A customer brought back some new shekeres from West Africa last week that have a nice sound to them.” Jeff motions up the sprawling wall. Roger immediately grabs a few, testing the sounds out against the ones Steve is already playing with - the two of them like kids in a candy store.

Jeff had been a good friend to The Limbs since their early teen years, having let the group spend hours on end attempting to learn every exotic instrument they could get their hands on. Anyone who entered the shop could count on him as a spirit guide of sorts to a wealth of worldly music. And while The Limbs had kept their first album fairly plain in context, they were already itching, particularly Steve, to experiment on the next album. Whenever that would be.

Now that a few more of their singles were moderately successful hits, Columbia Records was focused on milking it for all that it was worth. The execs were currently setting up an extensive American tour of the Mid - West Coast part of the country, all the major cities they hadn’t hit on their first tour. 

“Y/N,” Jeff gestures for you to follow him, probably excited to show you a new find seeing as you were always eager and willing to give them a test run. You make your way down the staircase lined with large balalaikas to the musty lower level filled with various sound equipment and electronic instruments. 

“What on god’s green earth would you use that for?” you hear Rich’s deep voice implore. He rolls his eyes as Eddie moons over an ornately engraved mandolin.

“It worked for Rod Stewart, didn’t it? That mandolin solo in Maggie May shredded,” he retorts. “Plus, look how pretty she is!”

You watch your feet as you carefully maneuver around the amps and pedals haphazardly strewn around the floor, following Jeff to the back of the room - taking special care to step around John, who is crouched low looking over the wiring of a particularly grody-looking amp.

Upon entering the store, he had taken off on his own right away, immediately entranced by the sprawling selection all about him. But you had caught the worn, far-off look in his eyes when he greeted you with a short wave earlier. You try not to let the lack of attention bother you as you pass him without so much as a glance up. The heartfelt conversation you had the last time they were in town had rooted itself in your memory. Spilling your guts like you did that night wasn't a common occurrence for you- figuring you were already easy enough to read due to the panicked expression often etched onto your face. 

Why him? Even your bandmates weren’t privy to the babblings of your intimate thoughts. It couldn’t just be his boyish tooth-gap or the pleasing line of his straight nose. Maybe it was the confusing mix of nerves and comfort you felt whenever in his presence. It was unlike the persistent butterflies you were used to when around attractive humans. Feeling instead like a gentle humming that you somehow sensed everywhere at once.

You’re brought out of your swimming thoughts as Jeff clears his throat loudly to get your attention. You must’ve been staring blankly at the floor for quite a while. He gestures to a bulky item draped in a tarp, as you give him a small apologetic smile.

“Oh yes, very pretty,” you smirk at him.

He rolls his eyes as he attempts to sweep the tarp off in a dramatic reveal, but in reality, it gets stuck. The man scrambles to uncover it, and as soon as it peeks out, you gasp.

“A theremin!”

You gaze at the ordinary-looking wooden cabinet in awe. It must be old, seeing as they were mostly compact now.

“You haven’t had one in ages,” you marvel, locking eyes with Jeff.

“Which means it’s been a while since I’ve heard your ambient screeches plaguing these walls.”

Your finger points to him in protest. “Hey, I was getting better until you sold the last one on me!”

“Well, I didn’t see you making a bid for it,” he playfully shrugs.

“Let’s hear those screeches!” Eddie yells out. Rich claps his hands excitedly beside him. You poke your tongue out at them, but your eyes catch John’s, and you quickly close your mouth. Still crouched, he looks on with mild curiosity wrinkled on his brow. He lightly raises them at you in silent encouragement.

You slowly make your way behind the instrument as Jeff plugs it into the wall. Turning one of the knobs, it hums to life as you check the metal attachments protruding from the wood frame. It really is old. You have no idea how to even begin to calibrate it. Taking a deep breath, you timidly bring your hands up in position.

It lets out a high pitched wail that burns your ears from being so close, and you yank your hands away from the field of current. Eddie and Rich erupt into cheers while John slowly stands, moving a bit closer to see the mechanism properly.

Jeff lightly pushes you back towards it in a gentle coax. This time you slowly bring your curled hand a reasonable distance away from the pitch antenna, keeping your other low on the one for volume. Squeezing your eyes shut to focus on the tone, you slowly move until you find your starting note. It was all about sense memory and your ears to fill the gaps with nothing to physically touch. 

Uncurling your fingers, you begin the opening notes of Moonlight in Vermont - the one song you had somewhat taught yourself through hours of painstaking practice. You fumble a bit, eliciting a squeak or two while trying to remember the hand placements that produce the proper notes. While you might “play” many instruments, you were middling at many, master of none. You make it through the first verse before your head starts to pound from your jaw-clenched concentration.

“Fuck the mandolin, let’s get that for the next album!” you hear Rich tell Eddie.

“Ah, yes, you’ve heard Pet Sounds. Now prepare your ears for The Limb’s sophomore attempt, Ghost Sounds,” 

Their banter is drowned out as John chimes in. “How on earth did you learn that?” You meet his struck expression and shrug lightly.

“Don’t downplay it, Bun. It’s pretty fucking cool,” Rich assures you. “And her knowing ASL also helps,” he explains to John.

“Sign language?”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s mom is deaf,” Eddie reveals bluntly. You shoot him a look.

“Sorry, hard of hearing,” he holds his hands out in defense.

John is silent for a moment as he mulls the information over, causing a speck of tension in the room.

“Your mother’s never heard you sing?” he asks incredulously as if he can’t possibly imagine it.

You give a small smile. “No, I guess she hasn’t. But I was in the car with her the first time I heard us on the radio. I turned the treble down and the bass all the way up and she bopped along to the beat pretty well.”

Rich chuckles lightly at the story. “She’s always been hoot, hasn’t she?”

You nod gently. “Aptly put. That’s how she describes herself as a matter of fact.”

John shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he takes a look around the room, his cheeks a light pink. You're unsure of why.

“I’m gonna head out for a quick smoke,” you decide, patting Jeff on the shoulder. “I know how you hate it.”

He gives your hand a light squeeze before you make your way upstairs, hoping to catch John’s eyes, but he avoids yours yet again. 

A pleasing blend of harmonies can be heard as you hit the landing. You peek your head around a large assortment of bongos to find Brian strumming a small acoustic on the other side of the store. Roger, Steve, and Lawrence all crammed around, the four of them singing a rendition of Blues Run the Game. 

Your heart warms at the sight, remembering the times when you and the boys would sit around a campfire and croon out the same sad tune. Eddie and Rich will be pissed they missed this. Steve notices your presence and silently ticks his head for you to come join. You hold up your pack of Marlborough’s in response to him before finally slipping out the front, trying your best to not jingle the adorned bells too much.

A cool breeze promptly passes through the knit of your sweater. It’s late September, and New York has begun to really cool off. You pull down the sleeves to cover your hands as you light your cigarette, wincing a bit on the first inhale. It was a leftover habit from your college days- scarcely used, only in social situations, or to get out of awkward ones.

Taking in the familiar street, you can’t help but giggle at the day you were having. To be showing Queen around your old hangout still felt absurd. No matter how genuinely they seemed to like the company of your band, you couldn’t fathom them wanting to spend the day with you all. Weren’t there bigger and better musicians in this city to be hanging out with? 

The sound of a lighter flicking to life comes from your left, and you turn. John leans against the faded wall as he takes a drag, his eyes trained on the dirty sidewalk. 

“I’m sorry, i- if I offended you with my comment about your mother,” he professes quietly. 

Your brows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“We have a friend whose father is deaf. A lovely man. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive.” He sighs, finally turning to face you. “It’s just that the memory of hearing your voice for the first time isn’t something one can easily shake. I mean that in a way that- it’s just a shame really. For her to not be able to share in it when it’s something so...” he looks as if he’s racking his brain for an appropriate word. “Well, singular.”

You suck in a breath at his words. In all your years, you had never gotten that as a response to your mother’s disability. It was mostly a polite, “Oh, really? I’m so sorry to hear that.” His honesty and consideration for your feelings knock the present hum of your body up to 100. 

You flinch as gentle burning hits your fingers, and you look down at your forgotten cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground before crushing it under your heel. John shifts his weight from side to side, never taking his eyes off of you while he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“I write out my lyrics for her so she can read them as poems,” you state simply, smiling up at him. “Sometimes she makes up her own melodies and sings them around the house. It’s not the easiest on the ears, but she’s pretty inventive.” His eyes crinkle as he returns your grin - his first genuine one of the day.

“So she’s heard music before?”

“Oh yeah. She has nerve deafness, which didn’t start till her late twenties. She actually spent a lot of time around here when she was younger. Bitter End and The Gaslight are just a few blocks away.”

He hums lightly as he stares at you- like you’re a puzzle whose pieces are just beginning to fit together.

“Can you teach me something in sign language?”

Once again, your brows shoot up, shocked by his response. You blink a few times, trying to think of what to say. Going with the only thing that pops to mind, you sign out a phrase as he watches your hands intently.

“And what does that mean?”

You smirk, “You are a cheesy cow.”

“I’m sorry?” he laughs out.

You repeat it back slowly while signing along. “You. Are. A. Cheesy. Cow. It’s the first thing my mother taught me how to sign.”

He runs his hand over his jaw as he chuckles. “Rich was right. A hoot she must be.”

“I’m pretty shit, to be honest, and she read lips, so it’s mostly used for snide comments during extended family gatherings.”

You watch as he puts out his cigarette and carefully takes a step closer to you. “I’m assuming your colourful vocabulary extends to those instances as well.”

“Right you are.”

“Freddie will love that,” he snickers. “He always seems to collect vulgarities in other languages wherever we go.”

Your attention is torn away as a sleek black car rolls up to a stop at the curb. It’s out of place in the middle of the street filled with old and worn buildings, which can similarly describe the people who mill about.

“Speak of the Queen herself,” you laugh as a sunglass-clad Freddie steps onto the sidewalk.

“Oh, isn’t this quaint!” he exclaims, peering into the shop window. He straightens as he turns to you, hands-on-hips.

“Deacy. Thumper. Are we fans of freezing our tits off, or shall we go inside?”

You give John a small smile and push yourself off the wall, making your way over to Freddie, who immediately pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. The bells against the door ring out as you all enter the shop.

“Ah, Deacy,” Brian pokes his head out from one of the narrow aisles, still in a constant crouch to avoid the instruments above his head. “I was looking for you. Found these adorable teeny guitars I thought might be good to bring back for the kids. What do you think?”

“Kids?” you mumble to yourself as John makes his way over to inspect them.

“Brian has two, and John’s already up to 3. Maybe we should’ve nicknamed him Bunny.” Freddie laughs, nudging your arm. “You know… fucking like rabbits,” he expands due to your lack of chuckling.

He leans into your field of vision as he studies your statue-like expression, eyebrows knit in confusion. His eyes take in your ashen face and your lifeless expression. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing. When you lock your eyes with his, you know he understands from the sheer size of how big they become. He straightens up, glancing around quickly as if looking for something to put out a fire.

“Freddie!” Steven dances over, clicking a pair of castanets in his hands. “I wanted to show you thi-”

“So sorry, love, we can’t. Y/N promised to come to a fitting with me, and we’re already late," he announces loudly, pulling you by the arm and out the door before anyone can react.

- - - - - - -

You blankly stare at your reflection in the long mirror. Freddie had instructed his stylist to pull some outfits for you to parade around in as he tried on a bevy of metallic coats.

“You’re an idiot,” you tell the girl staring back at you.

Freddie sashays over, a shag jacket swaying with him as he places his hands on your shoulders, surveying the strappy dress you were currently squeezed into.

“Oh yes, this will do for the after-party,” he instructs.

“I’m not going.”

He heaves a deep sigh. “Darling, you already refused the ticket I got you for the show. You’re coming to the party,” he declares, turning away to look at more options.

“This isn’t really me…” you mumble, gesturing to the dress.

He regards you with a small smile. “Exactly. I say this with love, but you need a look, Y/N. Something that makes you feel unstoppable,” he gestures to his body as he twirls towards you. “Don’t you want to shock them?”

You chew your lip as you ponder that sentiment. Dawn usually just shoved you into whatever ensemble she had picked for you - leather jackets, monochromatic sets, tight jumpsuits. She kept hoping you’d find a style you fancied, but you had yet to find anything remotely likable under the lights of the stage.

“To be honest, I just want to be able to feel comfortable out there," you sigh. "But I can’t strut around in flashy outfits or conduct a whole crowd like you do." Huffing as you collapse onto one of the white couches around you. He perches beside you, throwing an arm around the back of the sofa.

“Then don’t,” he says simply.

You snort a response as you cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but have you tried showing them a bit more of yourself?”

“I can’t do that.”

He turns to you now, grabbing your attention with his eyes.

“And why not?” he questions.

You gaze down at your hands, which you’re now wringing together in your lap. “What if it’s nothing spectacular?” you whisper out the criticism that you'd drilled into your mind for the past year.

Freddie laughs lightly as he stands. “Let’s not start lying to ourselves, shall we?” He moves in front of you and kneels, now at eye level, making so you can’t look away.

“Sometimes people go to a concert for an escape. A big bloody show with dazzling lights and petite men galavanting around a stage in spandex tights,” he smiles. 

“But most of the time they just want to find a piece of themselves in it, don’t they? Commonality. They want to hear you, see you, and feel just a little less alone than we all know we are. I saw just a slice of it at your concert, and it was indeed something spectacular. So take that as you will.”

You’re not one to cry much, but your eyes soften as you take in the icon of a man in front of you. A man loved by millions, who was currently filling in as your personal rock n’ roll fairy godmother.

“You’re a fantastic person, you know that?” you tell him genuinely.

“Yes,” he quips as he gets to his feet. “Now, are we done scurrying around the real problem at hand?”

You sigh as you look away, firmly willing yourself not to break the dam of bottled emotions threatening to spill out. Why couldn't you just feel numb? It would be better than the wave of childish self-pity you found yourself in.

Freddie huffs at your reaction. “Oh, you brat. Sorry to tell you, but you’re an open book, my dear. And not one of those big pompous things Brian reads. A bloody children’s book. One filled with pictures.”

You're sure you’ve now bitten through the entire top layer of your lip as you contemplate how to even begin.

“I’m an idiot,” you shrug to yourself yet again.

“No,” he points a finger at you. “You’re decidedly not. Though I am curious as to how someone who’s as big of a fan as your friends say you are, missed out on that detail.”

“I’m not sure either. I mean, I listen to your albums and go to your show, but I guess I didn’t pour over the tabloids or press interviews or anything like that.”

Freddie nods along as he sifts through another rack of jackets, choosing an incredibly tight white leather number.

“I assumed you knew,” he answers while glancing at his reflection. “And I would say Deacy should know better, but he’s not quite himself at the moment.”

“What do you mean?” you press, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

He turns to you, palms up in explanation. “It’s not that he wouldn’t normally be charmed by your shy presence and occasionally crass mouth… But I’m a bit worried he’s finding comfort in your smiles for the wrong reasons.”

“Huh?”

Sighing heavily as if debating if he should keep skirting around his words, he holds your gaze. “An impending divorce is crippling lonely, even if it is somewhat amicable.”

His mouth is brought into a pout as you suck in a sharp breath. 

Divorce. All your previous interactions play through your head from a different angle. Pity sneaks up on you as you remember John’s advice he’d given you. The concept of home is a funny thing. You scoff out loud at how your childlike crush had skewed your interpretation of your relationship with the man.

“I’m usually the one singing his praises,” Freddie muses, breaking you out of your inner monologue of resentment towards yourself. “But he seems more lost than usual at the moment.” 

He gently lifts your chin. “I don’t normally meddle in- well, actually I do. Just don’t want to see you get hurt, Bunny. Not when the world is soon to be at your feet.”

"I'm fine," you lie, gently brush away his gesture. "I barely even know the guy. I was just shocked to have my silly fascination with him interrupted. Stupid, really."

"Don't do that," he exhales. "Don't put it on yourself. You'd have to be blind to ignore the fact that he's quite taken with you."

"I'm fine," you repeat, making your way into the back to change out of the ridiculous dress that suddenly felt even tighter now.

Shutting the door slowly, you let out a deep breath. It's all good, you tell yourself. Of course you got caught up in the attention of a world-renown musician. Who wouldn't? It's nothing special. As Freddie said, he's not even acting like himself. Although you were indeed in true form- getting caught up by the slightest of interactions. Unconsciously playing them as a loop in your head. You can't help but cringe at your own escalation of the situation.

Squaring your shoulders, you take in the image of yourself in the dress again. Perhaps it was time for you to shock them all.

- - - - - - -

“And so my grandfather goes out to the alley and sees her just wailing on this scrawny man. I mean, really going to town. So he pulls her off him, and the dude’s got a black eye and a bloody nose. And he’s like, “Thanks mate, thought she was gonna kill me there.”

Roger ruffles your hair in response to your poor attempt at a British accent. The group of cast and crew around you chuckle at the gesture. 

You had decided that if you were going to be forcibly dragged to this after-party by your bandmates, you would at least aim to make it worthwhile. A debut of your new mentality.  One where you weren't just acting the part of a rising rock star, but living it. 

Which is why at the moment, you found yourself the center of attention, surrounded by the cast and crew of SNL laughing along to your amusing story. But this was all hinged on you carefully, avoiding the presence of John Deacon at all costs. Which, in reality, wasn't very hard to do- you had yet to see him since arriving an hour ago.

“Oh my god, who was it?!” the young cast member beside you presses. You think her name is Julia, but the sheer amount of people you'd been introduced to was dizzying.

"That's exactly what we asked him when he told us. All he said was that it was some man with big lips who was in a fur coat and looked like he hadn't eaten in a month..."

The cam op across from you gasps, "It was MICK JAGGER? God bless your grandfather, I would've wept if she murdered him."

"So would my mom AND grandmother," you laugh. "Give us each a glass of wine, and it's basically a Mick fan club."

"Who else?" Brian taps your leg, surprisingly urging you to divulge more gossip.

You can't help but smirk as the group leans forward intently.

"Robin Williams?" you tease as their eyebrows all raise.

"Horrible tipper, but he makes up for it by performing dirty puppet shows with the napkins."

"Sounds about right," funnyman Brad Hall confirms, offering you another drink.

You politely decline, determined to keep your wits about you this evening. "I'm gonna go grab some water. Anyone want anything?"

The group shakes their heads, but Lawrence jumps up to join you on your trek to the crowded bar.

"Wouldn't it be insane if this was us one day?" he exclaims as you weave your way through the mass of bodies littering the Capitol Grill. 

You smile up at him, "Dream big, buddy."

"Oh, I intend to," he confirms you as you spot Eddie and Rich waving you over from a spot at the bar. 

Rich promptly wraps his arm around your shoulders as you join them. He always had a stoic way of letting you know he saw through the cracks in your poorly constructed armor. Taking the role of a caring older brother, more so than your own.

"Have we lost Steve again?" Lawrence asks the group.

Eddie nods across the room. "He's exactly where you think he'd be," he scoffs as you catch a glimpse of Steve, trailing Freddie like a lost puppy.

"Um, excuse me?" a short girl mumbles from behind Eddies' denim-clad shoulder. He turns, glancing down.

"Hiya," he regards her casually, causing her a deep blush to creep across her cheeks. She shoves a napkin and pen at him.

"C-could I get an autograph? Please?"

Eddie smirks at her flustered appearance, making sure to brush her fingers as he grabs the items out of her trembling hand.

"And what beautiful name should I be making this out to?"

She lets out a jarring high pitched giggle as she stumbles over her words. "Oh, uh, Shelley."

"Well, here ya go, Shelley," he hands the napkin back to her, now adorned with his messy scrawl. "Maybe I'll see you later."

She squeaks as she hurries back to her shrieking friends who are huddled conspicuously off to the side.

"Gross," you state. "She's a child. Probably one of the executive's kids." 

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Gotta keep em' interested, Bun. As the heartthrob of the group, it's my sworn duty."

"Slow your roll there, Rob Lowe," Rich interjects. "I think Y/N's giving you a run for your money in this dress."

You glance down at the Freddie approved ensemble. It was eye-catching for sure, precisely what you were going for. It's black suede straps crisscrossed strategically against your body, giving peaks of the skin underneath.

"It looks good, Bun," Rich assures you.

“Guys,” you all turn your attention to Steve, who has just joined the circle clumsily. His pupils are blown wide from his current blood alcohol content, and he sways slightly on his heels.

"I- I have something to say," he announces to the group, getting your attention. You all wait patiently as he hesitates, clearing his throat twice before lowering his voice. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m gay.”

You glance around to the other boys whose expressions mirror your own warm smile. You’d all known Steve was gay since high school, not that any of you had talked about it. You had just assumed it was something unspoken. That he’d tell you whenever he was ready or met someone good enough to introduce to you all.

Steve gapes at your expressions. "Where is the shock? I was expecting shock and awe, people!"

"Steve, please don’t take this the wrong way. But I’m assuming we’ve all known for a while," Rich says gently. You all nod lightly in agreement.

"How?"

"Do you remember the types of girls who used to throw themselves at you? Like Becky Whale? Man, I would’ve killed for Becky Whale to throw something at me. But you never took them up on it," Lawrence elaborates.

Steve smiles around at all of you, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“I had a crush on Eddie in high school,” he confesses.

Eddie pumps his fist lightly. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lawrence exclaims. “You just had to boost that ego, didn’t ya? I know pretty boys are great and all, but I’m the one with the big soft cuddles. People love big soft cuddles!”

Rich expands his arms as he brings you all in for a hug. 

You kiss Steve gently on the cheek. “I’m proud of you, bud,” you whisper.

"Thank you guys, I just felt like it was time. And now that that's out of the way," Steve grunts as you all untangle yourselves. “I’m gonna go find Freddie. He said he’s taking me out to a club after this!”

He skips away with a grin, back towards Freddie, who catches your eye with a knowing smile and winks. It seems you weren’t the only band member who had found a fairy godmother in Mr. Mercury.

You all lightly laugh affectionately at your friend until Eddie and Lawrence wander off to scope out the food situation. You lean against the bar next to Rich, glancing around at the loud laughter erupting from the outgoing crowd. One person noticeably sticks out. A sullen John Deacon sits at the end of the bar, hunched over what looks like a glass of whiskey.

"Looks like he's in need of a friend," Rich surmises.

You tear your eyes away from the sorry sight to look at him. "They're around here somewhere," you shrug.

He rubs your arms up and down lightly before slinking into the crowd, knowingly leaving you alone. 

You sneak a peek over at John. He runs one hand through his curls as the other absentmindedly stirs the straw of his sweating drink. You watch him sigh, bringing the glass to his lips and gulping down the spirit without so much as a wince. 

Hesitantly making your way over to him, you rub your clammy hands over the expensive material of your dress. This is the opposite of avoidance, you scold yourself, silently willing your feet to change direction. But your willpower has seemingly left the building.

You carefully perch yourself on the stool next to his, as not to disturb his brooding. He glances over quickly, doing a double-take when he realizes who it is.

"Oh, hello there," he greets you with a small smile. "I didn't know you had arrived."

You nod your head lightly. "How could you? It seems you set up camp over here."

"Ah, yes," he breathes, straightening his posture. "Wasn't our best tonight, I'm afraid. Not much to celebrate."

You take a sip of your water as you continue to nod silently.

"Actually," he begins, angling his body towards yours, almost slipping off his stool as you notice his apparent intoxication. "I was thinking about that conversation we had. When I met your spritely grandfather."

"Oh?" you question. Keeping your face neutral even though your heart was already buzzing at the fact.

"Yes. Mostly about how naive I was—all that bloody nonsense about finding a home. Do me a favor and never take my advice, will you? You'll end up completely wrecking yours."

This was a bad idea.

"It's just- you draw these lines for yourself in the sand," he drawls, waving his hands about in front of him. "A stupid phrase, really. Where did it even come from?"

"The Bible," you tell him quietly.

He lets out a big sigh, rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Well, it's gotten it wrong before, hasn't it?"

You simply hum an acknowledgment, too scared to probe for fear of where this was going.

"Anyway, you draw these lines. Moral, physical, promises you make to yourself, things you swear you’d never do, dreams to accomplish," he lists out. "But sand moves about, dunnit? It blows all over the place. Makes a mess. Gets in your sandwich. And those lines blur. Or fade away. And all of a sudden, you've crossed them without even knowing! Broken those promises. Skipped right over those dreams."

He's too far gone in his rant to register the growing panic sweeping across your features.

"You were right. Sometimes you look in the mirror, and it's just a complete stranger staring back at you, isn't it?"

Trying to keep your breathing steady, you stare at the crumbling man before you. He runs his large hands along his face before ducking back into his former position, signaling for the bartender to bring him another drink.

This is precisely why you should've stuck to your original plan. What were you supposed to say to the man who was so obviously hurting from his failed marriage? So much so that it was pouring out of him. You know that if it weren't for the alcohol, he wouldn't be confiding any of this to you.

But there was a reason the boys called you the mom of the group, and it wasn't because you were the only female. You feel a pang of need to comfort him. You gaze at him, not with pity, but an overwhelming sense of empathy for the man and make up your mind.

You clear your throat to answer, brushing away your own warnings about how it would only sink you deeper into your fascination with him.

"I was wrong, actually," you start as he brings his head up to look at you. "And you know what phrase I hate? That people don't change."

He furrows his brow but remains silent as you continue.

"Maybe we're not made up of lines in the sand. Maybe we're the wind?" You try not to cringe at yourself and your poor use of metaphor. "And winds sometimes blow in different directions... but that's okay because it's where life is supposed to take them." Falling silent, you decide to quit while you’re ahead. 

You're not ahead. You're not even out of the gate. What the fuck was that?

A slow smile inches onto his face as he holds your stare. "How did you get so wise for someone your age," he teases.

"And what age would that be?"

His mouth opens and closes as he studies your face. "Twenty?"

"Mm, close. Twenty-four."

"Really?" he ponders. "Freddie mentioned you dropped out of university."

"Ah, yes. The university I could only go to after working to afford it," you explain. 

He continues to stare, the look in his eyes shifting slightly as he takes you in. A look that matches the color and intensity of uncharted, open water. You need to get out of here.

"Well, that explains your extraordinary use of analogy then."

Dragging your eyes off of his, you glance around at the party you were missing. Gladly missing, unfortunately. 

"I should go check on Steve. He's having a bit of a night," you tell him as you stand. "Try not to drown yourself in those," gesturing to the new glass of whiskey in front of him.

"How can I drown myself? I thought I was the wind," he points out with a grin.

Before any more banter can ensue, you simply smile and make your way back to your friends. Thinking to yourself that maybe lines in the sand weren't so bad. And that perhaps it was time for you to start drawing some of your own.

[sprnklersplashes]

work-love balance (rejanis one shot)

There are a number of reasons Regina wishes she didn’t have this job.

For one, the uniform is gross. And yeah the uniform is just an apron but it’s a gross apron. It’s navy, that’s all that needs to be said about it. Second, she’s realised she hates dealing with people. Not all people, there are a few that are okay, but some people are just so, so hard. And since she’s already on her second warning from her manager, she can’t tell someone to shove it whenever they snap their fingers at her, or don’t say thank you, or refuse to tip. She just has to swallow her pride, paint a smile on her face and complain when it’s quiet. Thirdly, it’s coming up to Christmas now which means she has to deal with Mariah Carey being played on a constant loop or six hours straight and not even Jolly St Nick himself could put up with that.

And fourth and most important; it eats into her Janis time.

Senior year is hard for both of them, especially now with finals coming up and work starting on their college applications. Janis is swamped with artwork, her hands constantly covered in paint, and Regina can barely breathe with all the assignments she has to get done. Where weekends were once for movie nights and coffee dates are now booked through with studying and projects and their conversations happening almost completely through the phone. They kept themselves busy enough earlier, with Regina’s lacrosse and Janis’ various extracurriculars, but now it seems that neither one can fit the other into their schedule. And believe it when they say they’re trying.

“Okay,” Janis sighs. They sit at an empty cafeteria table, a soft silence about the room at this early hour. Since the only time they see each other is in school, they agreed to come in early to try to work some sort of plan out. Regina was fine with it because she’d have been up anyway, Janis on the other hand was a little harder to persuade. A little begging, a lot of pleading, and a promise of a coffee on her swung it in the end. “Okay, so Monday is out, you have lacrosse training. Tuesday I have to study for my biology final. What about Wednesday?”

“I can’t,” she sighs. “Group project to work on. And then job-work after that. Thursday?”

“The talent show has their tech rehearsal. And they need the whole team down there.” Janis takes a long drink of her coffee, a scowl etched onto her face. Regina knows Janis loves doing the techy stuff for the school shows, and she outdoes herself every year, but she simply wishes that this year she’d have skipped it. Regardless of how good it looks on the college application. “Friday night?”

“More lacrosse practice,” Regina grumbles. “And I’m working.”

“Saturday and Sunday?”

“Work, work, work. Both in the school and the job.” Her head falls onto her arms, a low groan emitting from her and shaking the table. She feels Janis’ hand on her back making soft, reassuring pats and it makes her feel a little better, especially with her girlfriend mutters “there, there” in a half-joking, half-serious way that only Janis could pull off. A smile curls on her mouth, even if it’s muted by the rest of her frustrations.

“I just miss you,” she says, her head back up. “I miss how things used to be with us. You know…” She grins slyly, her finger tracing across the table until it reaches Janis’. “You and me. My room. Laptop between us.” Her fingers slowly interlink with Janis’ and she watches as the faintest hint of a blush creeps across her girlfriend’s cheeks. “Your head on my shoulder… us sharing the same blanket.”

“Stop,” she says softly, her voice so close to a plea. “You’re making me nostalgic.” She lets out a wistful sigh then, her thumb rubbing the back of Regina’s hand and sending goosebumps up her arms. “I miss you too. I mean who else is going to stop me from going crazy?”

“Thought that was Damian’s job.”

“Damian’s job is to keep me crazy.” She winks then and now it’s Regina’s turn to blush. “Your job is to keep me crazy.”

“My mistake,” she chuckles. Janis lifts her hand and presses a kiss to her fingers, her eyes never leaving hers, telling her she’s forgiven.

There’s a sort of breathless excitement she’s started feeling since dating Janis, and it comes in the small moments like this. Those moments have been so few and far between recently that Regina’s almost forgotten what that felt like, but here it is. The way her heart picks up just slightly, the way her veins seem to hum beneath her skin, the little soft feeling that unfurls in her stomach, all making her feel good-really, truly good-for the first time in a long, long time.

It doesn’t last long though, the bell ringing rudely and cutting into their alone time, and so they head off together, pinkie fingers linked, both hoping that somehow, they’ll find more time this week. She knows that it’s not likely, but if her relationship with Janis has taught Regina anything, it’s that miracles can happen. Sometimes they just need a little push.

Regina spies her opportunity for a ‘little push’ on Friday night. As per usual, the mall is absolutely packed with Christmas shoppers-parents buying for kids, teens getting Secret Santas and young men trying desperately to find a good gift for a girl who probably expects a ring. The mall is utterly flooded with people everywhere you look and that means that the line for Regina’s little milkshake shop is at least a mile long. She’s not been here an hour and both she and her colleague, a little wisp of a thing named Clara, both have headaches from the amount of screaming children and her cheeks sting from the smile plastered on her face. She’s been keeping score since she got here and so far there’s been three assholes telling them to hurry up and two Karens chastising her for her lack of customer service skills.

She wishes so badly she didn’t need this job, otherwise she’d flip each and every one of them off. Or, she would if she could remember their faces, but as she takes orders and turns around they all blend into one, and she doesn’t see them again until she’s shouted “small Skittles shake!” for the third time and the owner finally, finally comes forwards.

So all in all, she’s exhausted.

“Seriously,” she pants when she line dies down. “Who the heck wants milkshakes in December? Or ice cream? Why do we still sell that.”

“The kids,” Clara explains with a vague wave. “You know… kids like ice cream. And parents just want to shut them up.”

“Reminds me why I’m never having kids,” she scoffs and Clara actually laughs at that. She’s not so bad, not at all. She’s good fun and she’s nice, which is all you could want in a work buddy.

They serve the last few customers, and Regina wonders if she’ll actually be able to take a break, run down to the food court and get herself a sandwich, only to look up and find the manager appearing in front of them, carrying two cardboard boxes on his shoulder.

“You said you were running out of cones?” he asks.

“Did we?” She turns and looks and yep, their supply of cones has dwindled to almost nothing at all. Clara must have find a second, if even, to send him a text. “Oh yeah, thanks.”

“How have things been over here?”

“Well we’re alive,” Regina sighs. “Barely, but we’re alive. We made a lot of money if that’s what you’re interested in.”

“Oh, sounds good,” he says. “And Regina… you’re good to close up shop?”

“Yes I am,” she says through gritted teeth. He nods at that and gives her a brief, clipped thank you before asking her for the delivery receipts and heading on his merry way, back to his comfy office and his comfy office chair while they remain on their feet for the next few hours, serving customer after customer until they collapse. And then, with Clara leaving soon (she deserves it after all), Regina’s left to shut down all by herself…

Hang on. Lightbulb moment.

“Clara.” She grabs the other girl by the shoulder, her eyes wide and a smile tugging on the corners of her lips. “Can you hold the fort down while I go on my break?”

The girl hasn’t even finished saying ‘sure’ before Regina is gone, flying down the halls and pushing past people as fast her legs can carry her, her months of lacrosse training finally being useful. She makes a quick pitstop at the foodcourt and grabs herself some dinner before sitting down at an empty table and whipping her phone out, mistyping the number twice in her excitement.

Janis picks up on the second ring and that’s still not fast enough.

“Regina?”

“Hey,” she says through a mouthful of noodles, a small prick of anxiety in her gut. “Okay, so what are you doing tonight?”

“Um, nothing I guess,” she says. “Homework, art, watching Netflix. Why?”

“Because I have an idea,” she begins. “For us.”

“Oh do share.”

“It’s a surprise.” She can practically see Janis’ face falling. She hates surprises, and that’s what makes this fun. “I just need you to trust me on this.”

“Okay… I trust you,” she says in the least-convincing voice Regina has ever heard.

“Perfect,” she says. “Just get here late and hang around until 9 okay?”

“9? The mall closes at 9.”

“9:15 actually.” She wolfs down some more noodles. “Just be subtle when you get in here, okay? Be sneaky.”

“And then you’ll reveal to me your mysterious plan?”

“I promise.” She hears Janis laughing then and oh what that sound does to her heart.

“Okay. I better get some studying done then before I get there.”

“And I need to finish my food. Oh and Janis-” she interjects. “Bring your laptop. And your charger. Just in case, you know?”

And it’s the long, confused ‘okay’ from Janis that makes this all so worthwhile.

The mall is practically deserted when Regina switches off the sign and gets out the brush and pan. Normally the clean-up process is painfully slow, what with the dozens of things that need doing and Regina feeling utterly drained by the end of the night. But tonight she’s found a source of energy she didn’t know she had, one that has everything to do with her girlfriend, and she wipes down surfaces and brushes the floors in double quick time and throws things in the fridge with no rhyme or reason. She sprints out to the dumpster with the trash and back again in less than ten seconds, determined that nothing and no-one cuts into her time with Janis. She’s so focussed on her mental to-do list that she doesn’t even notice a person coming up behind her, not until she hears those dreaded words-

“Hi can I get a large Reese’s milkshake?”

Oh for the love of-

But her rant is stopped entirely when she turns and sees only Janis, chuckling on the opposite side of the counter, hair slightly damp and her backpack on her shoulders, a self-satisfied gleam in her eyes.

“Asshole,” she sighs. “That’s what you are. An absolute asshole.” She waves her hand. “Come on in, asshole.”

“Oh someone’s been busy,” she comments. “You know, I did get a little worried when I didn’t receive one snapchat from you about how much you hate the closing shift.”

“Oh shut up.” She checks that the coast is clear and then pulls down the shutter, with them still inside. Thankfully she had the foresight to slip the stepstool underneath it, preventing them from being shut in completely, but Janis’ eyebrows still shoot up, her mouth hanging half-open in a silent scream of oh my god my girlfriend’s finally lost it.

“Regina…” she begins. “Please look me in the eyes and tell me you are not locking me in a milkshake store with you. Please, tell me that.”

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m not locking us in. What I am doing is having an amazing idea for a date night.”

“Which is…” Regina gestures around them.

“Look around,” she says. “We’re alone. We have all the ice cream we can eat. We have sparkly lights. And you have your laptop, so we can whack on something cute. Or something dark if you’re into it.” She shrugs. “I thought if my job interrupts our dates, maybe we could have a date at work.”

For two seconds, maybe less, a cold fear washes over her as she waits for Janis’ reaction. Maybe this is too far, maybe she already had plans, maybe she doesn’t want to sit on a dirty floor with her.

Or maybe, she’s throwing her arms around her and the force of her body is throwing them back. Maybe she’s giggling into her shoulder and rocking the two of them gently, her smile brighter than any of the lights and sweeter than any of the candy around them.

“This is amazing,” she whispers. “You’re amazing. Maddening and possibly crazy, but amazing.”

She kisses her then and Regina wonders how she can still get butterflies in her stomach, even now.

They sit down on the floor, using their jackets as impromptu blankets, and Regina grabs some ice cream from the freezer, settling on Rocky Road after some deliberation, while Janis opens up her laptop. The heat from the computer contrasts with the coldness of the ice cream, both balanced across their legs, and it’s an odd sensation to say the least, but Regina doesn’t care.  They keep the ice cream close by and the toppings even closer; Janis has already covered her servings in chocolate sauce, and of course, rainbow sprinkles. The opening credits of To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before play onscreen, which Janis swears she only watches because Regina likes it so much, but she’s heard the muffled squeals behind her hand. She knows how she feels and one day she’ll get her to admit it.

But for now she just leans her head on Janis’ shoulder and snuggles into her. Janis presses a kiss to her head, slow and soft and so precious and Regina concludes that if they get trapped in here overnight, it won’t be so bad. Not if there’s Janis.

[pinkhairedlily]

Last Summer Into the Beginning

Chapter 3 of The Spring He Came Back | 3 of 12

“What does he want me for?” Hitsugaya’s arms were on his hips, and he huffed indignantly at the man in front of him. The professor’s height was like two Hitsugayas stacked on top of each other or two and a half.

Hinamori knew of him. Dr. Byakuya Kuchiki. He secured sequential federal funding for the development of the town, allowing the rise of laboratories, science museums, and research centers on the south hinterlands. He was responsible for the libraries with extensive catalogues in every major district. He was the reason why outsiders gave a moniker to their locality – Soul Society. A-lister faculty and a select roster of students who routinely undergo rigorous training and internships were called soul, figuratively referring to them as “souls of knowledge.”

Members of the core circle of the Soul Society were not selected through the usual entrance exams in regular schools. Present faculty personally chose them or through trusted referrals within their networks. While it was not their intention, this fostered rift across social factions. The rich, the elite, those with well-known family names, and those who have entered competitions were the ones mostly invited. Not the homeless. Not those in the remote, rural parts of the town. Not their kind. So why did he want to bring Hitsugaya to the academy?

“Did you do something wrong, Toushirou?” Hinamori almost yelled. For some reason, her voice was quaking. The implication of the professor’s visit gave her tremendous uncertainty. Hitsugaya defiantly shook his head at her.

Baba placed reassuring hands on Hitsugaya’s shoulders. “Well, you did something that caught Dr. Kuchiki’s interest. Do you want tea, Professor?”

“No thanks, Ma’am. I would like to go straight to the point of my visit.” The professor stepped into the shade of the large camphor tree and ushered Hitsugaya closer. “Now then, would you like to tell me why my thesis calculations were wrong?”

“Shirou!” Hinamori yelled at him. He wrote on the pages despite her warning.

“I cannot ignore it!” He yelled back.

Apparently, the book was the only copy of Dr. Kuchiki’s graduate thesis. The head librarian called the academy to relay the news when they returned the book. How they found their residence must have took a lot of asking on the ground. Hitsugaya explained why he thought the results were wrong. Hinamori felt she was unable to follow him into uncharted territory. The two continued to exchange theories with the professor trying to resolve that, indeed, there were two answers to his research experiment, and no one determined the other one until Hitsugaya. With a hint of satisfaction on his face, Dr. Kuchiki turned to Baba and started to explain his offer to take the kid to the academy.

“His intellect is one of a kind, but his manners and attitude need further honing. He will be a good candidate in the academy,” the professor said. “You need not provide for him. The academy will shoulder everything – his accommodations, food and book allowance, research grants, and a monthly allowance that will be comfortable for a family of ten. This is usually the incentive amount demanded by the other students.”

Hitsugaya’s eyes widened at the figures. Money enough for a family of ten. “That’s….a lot.”

“Well, I believe the decision is up to Hitsugaya himself.” Baba’s eyes twinkled at the newfound genius.

“We will be expecting you at the academy in the coming winter. If you don’t show up, we will take that as your refusal and will cease contact with you or your family members.” Dr. Kuchiki gave a small bow to Baba before leaving.

Baba squealed in delight and ruffled the kid’s silver hair. “I’m gonna prepare fancy meals for us. Who would ever thought Momo’s watermelon would help me pick up a genius kid?” Her laughter rang in the compound.

“But Baba- I’m not even sure if I will accept,” Hitsugaya pouted. “I don’t want to leave you alone with bed-wetter Momo.” That earned him a slap to the back of his head.

“Your attitude really needs honing!” Hinamori echoed Kuchiki’s words, but she didn’t feel the need to celebrate.

That evening after Baba settled down for an early sleep, they escaped to the hill. The moon and stars were fully out in the clear, night sky. Fireflies were illuminating the foothills, green specks of summer dancing in the dark.

Hinamori was resting on the grass, her eyes immediately identifying all the constellations in an effort to not hear Hitsugaya’s words.

“I think I will take up the offer of that grumpy doctor,” he said with a grass tip between his lips. “You’ll probably be happy without me around, huh? No annoying presence at all. You can go to the library anytime without tagging me! No additional laundry or extra food! Hah, think about that Momo!”

His laugh irritated her. “Of course, I’ll be happy! If you can go away soonest, why not?” She wasn’t entirely sure if she was truly relieved.

“Besides, I’ll have enough to give Baba money. She won’t have to work in farms anymore. You can buy everything you need in the market. You can even move closer to the town complex!” Hitsugaya smiled wistfully. “Baba’s life would be much easier. I won’t be your additional burden anymore.”

“You know Baba, Shirou. She’ll never relocate, and she’ll never accept your money.” When clouds started to appear and covered the moon, she stole a glance at his face. The glow from the fireflies accentuated the hard lines. She realized he has been through so much, being thrown out at a young age with his survival threatened daily. He deserved to have the security that the academy offered, but he wasn’t smiling anymore. “She never treated you as a burden. She took you in because she wanted to.”

So that was what he was thinking all along. Hinamori sighed. She never thought Hitsugaya would hide those kinds of emotions behind his strong and sometimes irritated façade. She presumed he was more of a wear-your-heart-on-your-sleep kind of kid.

“Well, should I leave, Momo?” Sometimes, he was exactly this kind of kid. “There’s a part of me that wants to stay and continue living with you and Baba. We’ll always have the library anyway.”

“Why do you need my approval?” Hinamori chuckled at his question. “Aren’t I the most annoying person in your life?”

She got silence on his end. The fireflies were trailing upwards, as if reaching for the stars and sharing their velvet canvas.

“Because you’re my family, and I care for you. So my question is, do you care for me too?”

She was thankful for the darkness because she didn’t want him to see her smile. She never truly answered his question that night despite his nagging. The summer passed by quickly with the finale culminating with a watermelon eating contest. Hitsugaya won, having finished five whole fruits. That also earned him several trips to the toilet.

Autumn followed suit. With the day of his leaving becoming imminent, Hitsugaya rushed to gather the most number of firewood he can to keep the cold at bay in the compound. They spent the remaining days making jam and stocking up their pantry for times they cannot harvest from nearby farms. On his last day, Hitsugaya requested all three of them to sleep together in Baba’s room.

Baba was the fastest to get knocked out. She was also a heavy sleeper so it was easy to always slip out for their nightly conversations, but Hinamori and Hitsugaya preferred to stay with her tonight.

“I’m happy Baba took me in.” Hitsugaya was on the other side of Baba so she really cannot see the display of expressions on his face. “This was a happy home.”

“Silly. You only stayed less than a year here.” It was true. He arrived just short of spring and will be leaving soon. A full cycle of seasons. It was that short.

“And it was more than enough,” he replied. For all the years he was alone. “You know I’ll always sneak out and still go here, right?”

“You dumbass. They might revoke your scholarship. The academy is strict.”

“Well, won’t you come and follow me?”

“I’m not born genius.”

“You taught me how to read, Momo. That’s more than genius.”

“Well, my brain isn’t exactly wired the same way as yours, you know.”

“I’ll sneak out. Wait for me in the daffodil meadow at the end of every three months.”

“Won’t.”

“I’ll bring you watermelon.”

“Won’t.” A beat and a two. Maybe.”

“I’ll still see you and Baba, Momo. Nothing will ever change.”

But everything will change. “Hmm.”

“So, aren’t you going to answer my question? You still have until dawn.”

Hinamori was barely a teen, but her sad history of being orphaned and facing uncertainties daily made her learn that if anything was a constant in this world, it will be change. No matter how they fight against the hands of time and fate, the gears will continue turning. It will only benefit those who move with it. She will not be responsible for stopping his gears from turning.

She reached out her arm, wanting to snuggle against Baba, the only familiar comfort she knew will stay for a long time. Her fingers lightly landed on top his hand. She waited a bit, wondering if he’ll stir or remark on how she was intruding his space.

“Don’t go,” she whispered, but he was already fast asleep. The next day, on the first day of winter, Hitsugaya left the compound.

NEXT CHAPTER | 4 OF 12 | GREAT EXPECTATIONS

[currentfandomkick]

Miraculous and the Batboys - Week 3

So i am back(ish) and I bring the Update. Editting is for those with patience and time that i lack. ao3 link HERE

--

A weekend dodging Gina was… eventful. Even moreso when celebrating ‘No More Gabriel Brand’ time was cut short by a barrage of akuma.

All weekend.

Marinette is convinced the man has too much free time.

She would admit (ONLY when no one else was around) that having someone else checking info during battles was nice. Out of the visiting bats, she had come to rank them from least to most irksome: Red Robin (most helpful), Nightwing (helpful), Red Hood (… he was slightly less annoying—he seems to understand she is the leader of the team) then Robin (who can’t get that she knows what she’s doing, AND hurts the minions more than necessary).

Okay, maybe she’s holding a grudge from when they first met (Tikki enjoyed reminding her of that new found habit—grudge holding) but you don’t go around calling a bunch of magic jewelry powered superheroes incompetent before finding out what they’re fighting and how they have to fight!

And yes, this is a hill she will die on.

Chloe and Adrien are in full agreement, well, Queen Bee and Chat Noir are.

“Are you sure we can’t just…” Chat gestured with his eyes to where Robin was perched at the edge, “just a little?”

Marinette didn’t answer him. She turned to Queen Bee. “You need to influence chaton less.”

“Never.”

--

Tim almost collapsed when he saw Marinette on her own. Why?

Because he was Certain that he saw a, a red thing—creature? Poke something out of her purse.

Red was Ladybug’s color. Yep. She’s. Yep—mini Red Robin hard since he’s pretty sure she’s avoiding someone too.

She was too—he knew for a fact she’s avoiding Gina excellently (either hiding at the hotel with Chloe, the teashop or one Adrien Agreste and his… legal cousin but Tim is certain there is something off about that with the Holy Doopleganger Batman! Vibe he got from checking out the pair’s apartment. He now had a fun thing to look into when he’s bored and tired of Hawkmoth Shenanigans).

She’s also… yep. Dodging a bunch of teens he’s certain are her classmates.

And… Damnit demon spawn!

--

Marinette managed to disentangle herself from class parkour (miraculous training as civvies) when she got a text from Damian.

Apparently he wanted to ask how she was handling the whole… Thing with Bustier and Lila.

She wonders if he’s dealt with bullying too, and was looking for advice. She was certain hers was crap, but she did say she’d be around so…

She met up with Damian not too far from the park at a café, nothing fancy, and waited for him to start once they’d placed their orders.

“I know it is a personal matter and not my place to ask, however I would like to know how you have managed to endure the repugnant behavior of our teacher and the harlot.”

Marinette forgot she should think before responding.

“Pretty sure whores and sex workers are paid. She’s more con artist for attention than anything else.”

She missed Damian’s response as the waiter put down their drinks and raised an eyebrow at them.

“Remember the girl that framed me a while back and tried to expel me the first Scarlet Moth round?”

“Ah.” The waiter turned to Damian then. “Don’t insult whore by putting them in with that, well, work and I see my boss so I can’t say what I want again, but we both know what she is, and whores are no where near that level. Politicians, most, whores? No.”

Marinette snorted into her drink as they left.

“And to answer your question, well, I don’t really have a choice.”

Damian narrowed his eyes at that.

Marinette could feel his eyes on her, but couldn’t meet their gaze with this topic. (It still hurt, even though it’s a been years since it began.)

“Lila had everyone charmed or uncertain if she was lying until two weeks ago. Bustier said I had to be a good example and class representative putting that above everything else in my life. Even though everyone knows I’ve been helping run three different businesses on top of handling my program and own business and clientele, and help take care of Fu with a few other small business kids. Nothing could come before the class’s harmony—nothing.”

Marinette took a small bite of her pastry.

“So I saw someone who could force her to listen or have to deal with actively and knowingly violating anti-akuma laws—something she’s only managed to narrowly avoid since, well,” Marinette gestured to herself. “I got tired of constant akumas in class and managed to convince the school board as my last act as class rep to require daily and weekly mental health checks and mitigate potential akuma triggers during weekly checks, daily being more ‘answer these questions honestly’ for stress levels. The system flags major changes, and the students affected see one of the counselors immediately to find ways around what’s bothering them.”

Marinette missed Damian staring at her for that, or how his mouth opened ever so slightly.

“When I stepped down, everyone noticed I wasn’t comfortable alone with Bustier, so it became a rule to stop it whenever they could. The other classes are field specialty and ours is the only one for people doing more than one program or close to.”

Marinette looked up at that with a  smile. “Fashion is my official program, but since I do so much business outside of school, I kept having to take classes to help out early on. I never enrolled in the program officially like Chloe did, but the school has me credited as able to graduate with both programs, so until they can justify opening another multi-program class, I’m not allowed to transfer out of the class and stay in Dupont.”

Her eyes hardened when she said, “And I’m not letting a liar and a Bustier be the reason I left the only school that’s willing to go as far as they have for me program-wise—especially not when I only have a year left.”

Damian nodded at that, deciding he’d have to sic Drake on the harlot either way… perhaps Todd and Gina too. He was feeling spiteful.

--

Marinette decided that when she meets Hawkmoth, she is not only punching him in the face, she is going to do, she doesn’t know exactly what (Tikki has a few ideas that Marinette is certain involve torture) but it will hurt.

Why?

Third akuma on a Sunday. THIRD! What is this man not doing that he was before? She wants to know since whoever freed up his time is on her list now.

Robin was being less annoying (re: tracking the akuma and leaving the minions less battered than usual) while Red Robin was helping the police evacuate affected areas with Nightwing. Somehow Red Hood got it in his head to stick with Chat for “on the job training” her team is trained asshole and she is debating how far she should go when they finish off Hawkmoth for good.

--

Monday was… interesting. The emancipation was approved—Adrien Agreste legally required no legal guardian.

When Gabriel tried to fire Gorilla, well, Adrien pointed out Gorilla had been in Adrien’s employ this whole time as mother hired and paid him from her accounts. Which transferred to Adrien when she was declared dead.

Marinette dreaded the akuma Hawkmoth might cook up using Gabriel. How he wasn’t akumatized again was anyone’s guess.

Class was…

“So last night Damiboo said—“

Marinette put her head on her desk, and decided to raise an eyebrow at a… for some reason ill-looking Damian.

“Is it because you guys share a name?”

Damian blinked.

Adrien turned around then. “Or because someone has commitment issues.”

Marinette squinted at Adrien because… “What?”

Nino sighed. “Adrien is on another MatchMaker spree.”

“ah. Who are the victims?”

“Not touching it dudette, not touching it.”

Marinette snorted. “It’s not like he’s going to match anyone with well,” Marinette gestured at herself.

“Your infamous army.”

“They are not an army.”

“How many ‘relatives’?” Nino used air quotes.

Marinette narrowed her eyes. “Well under a hundred thousand, so not an army.”

“I am counting the fans.”

Marinette scoffed. “They do not count.”

“They do, and I’m pretty sure Adrien’s fan girl army is applicable.”

“Okay, just because they made up titles and help out during akuma evacs does not make them an army—they’d need weapons training, clear chain of command, coded strategies—”

“And the fact you know this only proves my point, you have an army.”

“Who has an army?” Chloe asked as she walked over.

“Marinette.”

“I do not!”

“You do,” Chloe agreed. “Kim!” the boy looked over at that. “Marinette’s ‘family’ is a small army.”

“I, yes?” Kim’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Any one that picked her up had how many knives on them when we were kids?”

Damian turned to her with a suspicious eye.

She blushed. “Nonna’s friends.”

Damian nodded slowly.

Marinette wondered if the earth could just… swallow her up now.

--

The rest of the week was in a similar vein. Constant attacks, the batboys helping, her class being weirdly fixated on her family (they aren’t violent, just… prepared.)

Her gymnastics classes were a godsend, and her instructor was checking up on her more than usual, but that might be her more or less running her own classes and lessons as she worked out her routine, music choice, and requirements for her teammates and partners for her routines on trapeze.

Tim was around more. He got it in his head that she needed “guidance” (and okay, she does) on how to conduct corruption investigations into the whole company’s practices and staff.

Then there was Damian being… distant? She was busy but they weren’t talking as much as they were at first and fine, whatever, she got it. She’s not someone he wants to be around…. It happens.

It just… hurts a little is all.

At least she had Adrien and less secrets there. He was fixated on Damian having “commitment issues” and she thinks he’s trying to set him up with someone (Chloe maybe? Why else would he be this focused…. It’d be interesting explaining she’s pretty sure Chloe like girls better than boys and that Damian isn’t her type. At a later date—she’s too busy to now).

Then she had chores and was called in for a hearing on Bustier which was��� interesting…. (her duties weren’t too bad for class president. she wasn’t making lesson plans or anything. The role model and forgiving everyone for hurting her and being told to let Lila walk all over her for years was not okay at all, but any teacher would have said that, right?)

Oh and Gina was now convinced Marinette needed protection and now semi-stalking her (Jason was weirdly close to Jason now and talking to him a lot). So random Grandma Attacks when she wanted to draw in Peace.

Lord Murder was her best stress buddy, and Gina is now well acquainted her. She was also given Gina’s Seal of Approval to take over her house for the purposes of keeping Lord Murder and staying there once her current tenants were out (no seeing it until then… unfortunately. She did get dimensions for cat things though. she may browse a bit obsessively… only a bit.)

--

Tim froze when he ran into Jason with Civilian Chat Noir. And a giant man (Gorilla). At their base. Playing videogames.

“Hey Tim, this is Adrien, Adrien, Tim. Adrien is your mini’s buddy and this is the guy that keeps the harpies away, Gorilla—yes he refuses to tell me his real name—and they’re family now. B can suck it.”

Adrien waved at him before turning back to the game. “I have no idea why he keeps saying that.”

Tim took a deep breath. Apparently adopting strays was just another Bat-thing. “So its nurture, not nature.”

Damian came out, sighed when he saw the group still there, and took a drink into his room while saying. “I did not adopt him.”

Adrien looked back at him then. “You have too many commitment issues to. Don’t worry, though, I’m good at destroying pesky problems like that.”

Tim blinked at that.

Damian sighed as they had this conversation too often now. At school and apparently, his home now. “I am not going to—”

“That’s just your fear talking—we both know that.” Adrien spoke like he was talking to a petulant child. “Why don’t you text your friends and see what they think since I already know the answer and you need more convincing.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Jon thinks you are annoying.”

“I’m a delight.” Adrien turned back to his game then.

Jason grinned proudly next to him. A bit too much like a proud parent for Tim’s comfort. (He may also be realizing his keep-his-mini-from-Damian-dating may end up in vain thanks to one Adrien Agreste(?))

--

Dick sent Bruce exactly (1) update: You are a grandpa now—Jason has a blond cat-hero son who can’t dodge.

Bruce may have had a small heart attack as now he has a magic grandson that he never met, apparently controls raw destruction, and is deeply traumatized. (It was the grandpa part that freaked him out—the rest is par for the course as Batman. He’s a Grandpa Alfred—he’s too young for his children to pull a him and adopt tiny traumatized children and train them into (heroes) vigilantes. Alfred stop laughing, he’s being serious!)

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

HEY so thanks for patience with the updates as life is Extra Hell now between puppy training when i'm finally home and work being Extra Hell with longer shifts and more to do during.

And before anyone asks about the peacock!marinette thing, look at the two series I have going with Bronywn as those are ongoing as my stress writes.

Any preferences for next update? Open to ideas as my mind is too stressed to do more than work off a prompt of some kind for the time being, and next to none of this story has been planned so far, so ideas are very welcome to keep it moving forward.

--

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @littleredrobinhoodlum @northernbluetongue @kceedraws @pirats-pizzacanninibles @theatreandcomicfreak @daminett4life @catthhay @weird-pale-blonde-person @amayakans @chocolatecatstheron @tired-butterfly @multplelifes @yin-390 @area51qt @toodaloo-kangaroo @bzz75 @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @freshbark @soup-served-chilling @daminett4life @smolplantmum @karategirl119 @goblinwhoships @melicmusicmagic @maribat-is-lifeblood @spartanxhunterx @maribat-is-lifeblood @toodaloo-kangaroo

[enigmainvestigations]

Character list

This is going to be a brief breakdown of Ed’s relationships with the other characters in Gotham mostly from his Riddler days. This is from his perspective, theirs are mostly still open (besides the ones that I explain here). Also, these relations can change over time which many of them will. Please note- This list is for those who are curious, and for writers who might need some inspiration in the case a character comes up in their writing and they get stuck. You don’t have to reference this, these are just my current ideas on these character relations.   

Heroes: 

Batman- HATE. I’ve gone over this already in his bio, but I’ll use this to explain some things from Batman’s perspective. At first Batman saw Ed as someone unable to control their compulsive behavior, and thought Eddie just needed some intervention. However, as the years went by and he began to be the focus of Ed’s schemes he started to see him as a cunning, intelligent, and very dangerous criminal. Especially when it became clear to him that Ed had no regard for others, and Ed’s plans regularly put other’s lives and well being at risk. He knows that Ed’s intelligence and his ability to process and retain knowledge is extremely high, and he worries that Ed’s intellect might surpass his at some point. Ed’s motives were always rather simplistic even if his methods weren’t, but Batman saw his potential and believed if Ed truly applied himself he could become much too dangerous. Because of this he handled Eddie very specifically. He would normally take on the Riddler on his own in hopes of controlling their interactions, and keep himself as the main focus of Ed’s ire. Nightwing- Greatly dislikes. From his time as Robin being a bratty teen with a smart mouth, Ed sees him as an annoyance despite only having brief encounters with him through the years. Oracle- Ed has no idea Oracle is the previous Batgirl, but he REALLY dislikes her. Since Batman doesn’t really control Batgirl he’s had more interactions with her than the Robins. He’s been on the receiving end of too many of her beastmode attacks to have anything but negative feelings toward her. Jason Todd- **I haven’t decided if this is post, pre, or if the Red Hood arc is going to play out like the canon* Robin (Tim)- Ed doesn’t like any of the Robins, but he does have a very slight respect for Tim. He’s had much more interactions with him than the previous two, and he knows that he’s smart and capable. He certainly keeps his guard up around him, and chooses his words wisely so not to divulge too information. Batgirl (Steph)- Dislikes, but doesn’t take her too seriously. 

Batgirl (Cass)- Dislikes. Only in his brief interactions with her, he really doesn’t like her. The reasons should be obvious.

Alfred Pennyworth- None

Jim Gordon- This one is a bit complicated. When Ed worked for the GCPD he had very few interactions with Jim, but the two were cordial. When Ed became The Riddler Jim felt betrayed since he used a lot of information he’d complied while working at the department. Over the years though Jim began to see Ed as someone who couldn’t control himself and was suffering with mental issues. He took the stance of treating Ed the way he treated him, but tries not to get him too riled up. He figured out that if he treated Ed with respect then Ed tended to behave and not get too excitable. On the other hand, Eddie actually likes interacting with Jim. He finds him quite entertaining, and likes watching Jim try to hold his tongue in his presence. 

Renee Montoya- Complicated as well. When Ed worked for the GCPD Renee found him to be very odd, and he gave her the creeps though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. When Ed became The Riddler she also felt betrayed, but she was much more confrontational with her anger toward him than Jim. Through time she also began to see Eddie the same way as Gordon, but she finds it hard to control her distaste toward him. The fact that he can escape handcuffs, and any cell they put him in makes her very nervous around him whenever he’s in custody. Eddie tends to find her outbursts rather funny, and usually would try to get on her nerves whenever he was bored when around her. Renee was rarely the main focus of his attention, but when she was he would be quite rude to her in hopes of getting her riled up. Harvey Bullock- Also complicated. Same situation as the other two, but Harvey actually liked Ed a bit when he worked at the department. He found his snide comments to be very humorous, as long as they were directed toward someone else. He also felt betrayed, but Harvey personally suffered more from Ed’s betrayal. Since then he has a deep disdain toward Ed, and feels zero sympathy or understanding for him. He’s very open about his anger with Eddie, and would often berate him whenever he was in custody. Eddie however loves interacting with Bullock. He finds Harvey’s anger very entertaining, and typically focuses on baiting him into an outburst. He’s used these situations multiple times as a distraction to escape custody.

Villains:

Bane- They haven’t had much interaction, but anyone who breaks the Bat Ed is going to like at least a little bit. Black Mask- Good. Ignoring Roman’s trigger happy temper, Ed tends to find him easy to work with since Roman’s motives are relatively simple. Clayface- Good. He’s hired Basil on a few occasions and found him pretty easy to work with. Catwoman- Dislikes, despite the two not having any real confrontations. The two are respectful to each other, but Selina thinks outside the box too much for Ed’s liking. She’s also better at certain skills than he is, which really messes with his ego since he doesn’t trust her. Long and short of it is- Selina makes Ed feel inadequate so he avoids her, but he’s not stupid so he doesn’t piss her off. Harley Quinn- As The Riddler Ed found Harley to be an annoyance, and couldn’t understand why Joker wouldn’t just kill her. He viewed her as unintelligent, and a waste of time. He generally treated her like he would a child, which sometimes worked and other times Harley found patronizing. *By the time Ed quits his criminal career however, him and Harley have an odd relationship. They’ve survived some very close calls, and even though he still finds her annoying he seems to accept her presence around him even though he tends to ignore most of what she says. Their chumminess is odd, and quite suspicious to everyone else in the city.  Hush-**I haven’t decided if this is post Hush, pre Hush, or if Hush plays out like the canon or not**

The Joker- Ed is one of the few people who can be around Joker repeatedly without getting killed. He made the mistake of teaming up with Joker once, and quickly learned his lesson never to do it again. After that he figured out how to deal with Joker, and kept him at arms length. He has The Joker mostly figured out, and doesn’t find interactions with him to be as unpredictable as others do. He also likes that whenever Joker comes to him needing something silly for one of his plans, he can charge him ridiculously high prices and Joker will pay without a second thought. His reputation of dealing with Joker is a bit of an ego boost for him, thinking he’s learned how to manipulate him. The reality is though, Joker doesn’t kill him simply because he finds Ed’s sensitive ego and his self destructive behavior hilarious. Killer Croc- Eddie thinks they’re alright, but they’re really not. 

Mad Hatter- They’re alright. Ed can’t be around Jervis for too long because his fantastical ramblings get on his nerves, but he tends to play along with Jervis’ delusions enough that Jervis thinks he understands. Because of this Ed finds him easy to influence. He has little interest in Jervis, but his mind control tech is something Ed’s always been trying to get his hands on. Unfortunately for him, currently Jervis is unwilling to fully share it.

Mr. Freeze- Its really 50/50 with these two. Even though Ed sees Victor as an easy way to make some money, or someone to have do some dirty work for him if need be, he also finds Victor’s anger to be exhausting to deal with. He knows Victor doesn’t like him and only really uses him for his own objectives, but Victor also makes their interactions quiet rocky. Ed will work with him if the opportunity arises, but he’ll keep their business brief. The Penguin- Good. The two of them have very similar skills at persuasion, manipulation, and deception. They practically do a constant dance of give and take with each other, to the point that now they both see the other as a valuable resource. Since they both dabble in similar assets the two have found its easier to work together than to be competition, which has really made them both more successful in the long run. From Ed’s perspective this is a battle of intelligence, but he has recognized that Os is aware of it and surprisingly isn’t put off by it like others are. He respects Os’s boundaries, and finds business with him to be smooth sailing. Os has a good level of respect for Ed. Not only because of his intelligence, and reliability, but also that Ed is smart enough to never fully trust Os. He’s used to being underestimated by people, and Ed’s unwillingness to divulge too much is a level of cunning he admires. *Os is not happy about Ed’s “career” change. He doesn’t believe Ed has turned over a new leaf, but his sudden switch makes him very uneasy. He has people watching Eddie very closely.  Poison Ivy- Not at all good. Ed made the mistake of underestimating Ivy early on, giving her the opportunity to see him as the manipulative jerk he really was. She hasn’t trusted him since, and he usually has to avoid her in order to not get crushed by her plants.  Ra’s al Ghul- None. **I currently really want to keep the Gotham criminals in the dark about the League** Scarecrow- Dislike. Considering that Crane is an actual intellectual and a genius, Ed does not like interacting with him. He isn’t outwardly hostile toward Crane, but he definitely avoids him whenever he can. Crane’s intelligence really messes with Ed’s ego. Mix that with Crane’s creepy nature, and his constant psychological analyzing, he usually makes Ed feel like an inferior child. He’s also a bit scared of him and that fear toxin. Two-Face- Also 50/50 with them (I didn’t do that on purpose). Having to interact with two people in one body with two separate motivations can be quite stressful for Ed, but at the same time he enjoys the game. Harvey isn’t as easy for him to manipulate as he can with others, and he’s had a few close calls with Harvey where he pushed things too far. This seems to have fueled his interest in the game more, rather than deter him.

[charlottemadison42]

On Good Omens and Faith

Here follow personal thoughts on what Good Omens has meant to me as an Exvangelical. There’s a lot of healing & hope here, but it gets a bit dark first, as worthy stories do.

CW: I wasn’t badly spiritually abused in church, but I’ll be discussing things that are spiritually abusive: purity culture, sexphobia, queerphobia, abortion, mild self-harm, failure to treat mental health appropriately, ableism -- plus the special ways church authority makes all of these especially hard.

I’m personally an atheist but this message is not an argument against faith itself, rather against the specific subculture I grew up in. If you are a person of faith you’re welcome here.

I grew up in the American Evangelical subculture of the 80′s and 90′s, in the Keith Green/DC Talk/Left Behind/Veggie Tales era. I got saved at a Carman concert in sixth grade, and re-pledged my faith just to be extra sure every year at summer camp and youth group retreats.

This upbringing is not unusual. Doesn’t make me special. But its effects were real.

I’m finally engaged in a reckoning with it, in the “I should maybe talk this over with a support group or therapist” sense. I was a worship leader and youth leader at a Vineyard church when I left my faith abruptly in 2007*. It took me ten years to tell my family and friends that I was an atheist. For that decade I didn’t think about it -- but when I confessed to my loved ones two years ago, the processing began in earnest.

If you came up Evangelical, you already know how literal our belief in angels and demons can be in certain strains of the church. Until I was 26, I believed they were real entities genuinely and invisibly at war all around me. The End Times were real and we were in them. The Antichrist was whatever high profile democrat could be weaponized at the moment, the Rapture was nigh, and Armageddon was imminent (which explained why tension kept building in the Middle East).

My church community regularly discussed friends and neighbors’ problems in the language of  demon possession or harrassment: depression was a demon, addiction was a demon, promiscuity was a demon. I was part of casual and formal exorcisms and the occasional healing. No holy water, but there were hours of fervent prayers and tears, speaking in tongues and anointing with oil. It’s like a fever dream looking back at it now.**

Shout out to my other teens and tweens of the Frank Peretti era, forbidden from reading books of fantasy any later than Lewis or Tolkein -- Xanth was forbidden, Hogwarts was demonic. We were given instead (retrospectively) horrifying books about spiritual warfare, Christian takes on historical fiction, and end times fantasies. But they weren’t sold as fantasy to us, it was all real. Adults in positions of power confirmed it over and over. Narnia might be allegory but This Present Darkness supposedly illustrated spiritual truths.

I remember telling a trusted church teacher at age 10 or 11 that sometimes I would get scared at night, in the dark, and feel a palpable terror that kept me awake. They told me with no hint of comfort, “That means a demon is visiting you and sitting on your chest, trying to oppress you with fear so you will sin. Don’t wake your parents or read a book, instead you should pray or read only the Bible until the demon is compelled to leave, either by an angel or the presence of God.” This adult was affirmed by amens and mm-hmms.

I took this teaching to heart. I also understood, by implication, that if the bad feeling stayed with me then I was praying wrong -- that no angel would rescue me that night. I knew that my fear as it compounded in the dark was itself a sin that made God harder for me to reach.

These are not things that should be told to children.

Then there were the prophecies. (read more if this resonates with you, if not I’ll clip it here so I don’t take up your whole screen)

Anyone could prophesy in most churches I attended. Dreams were prophecies, visions were prophecies, vague feelings were prophecies. (That gave nightmares / being hormonal / being really hungry an awful lot of sway at Bible study.)

I had a woman prophesy over me weeping, with her hands buried in my hair, that she felt overwhelming grief for my future child. I was 23.

I have no child, and I harbored the secret at the time was that I didn’t want one -- a rebellion for me as a married woman. I feared she was prophesying an abortion in my future, and I was inconsolable for months at the damning choice that would visit me someday. (As of this writing at age 38 I’ve never been pregnant, for which I give all thanks to modern birth control.) I still wonder what happened to that woman’s child, or pregnancy, or perhaps her desire for a child, that this was her prophecy for me.

I heard much darker things prophesied over other people. I remember career changes (ill-advised) and marriages staying together (they shouldn’t have) and mission trips undertaken (that assuredly should not have been) because of prophesies.

Last, of course, I didn’t know it yet but I had many queer friends at the time. Some of them didn’t know it. We had no context in our small town -- and no corners of the internet to hide in and learn context, because the internet didn’t do much more than access our local library catalog at the time. I was told that demons sat on my chest to oppress me as a child, but I was shielded from understanding what a lesbian actually was until I was sixteen.

I remember feeling vaguely guilty when we prayed over this or that person in youth group, entreating God that they could resist their base urges. We prayed that they could choose a life of abstinence if they had to, rather than enter sexual sin and be cast out. I felt guilty but I still joined the circle to pray.

I’m sorry. I was wrong. Part of me knew it at the time. I wish I had listened to that part of me because that it was correct. There are fragments of my former faith I still treasure, but those prayers were rotten to the core.

Sidebar: Luckily that feeling of guilt bloomed quickly into rejecting queerphobic doctrine. By age 20 I decided I could only attend churches that did not preach homophobic takes on scripture from the pulpit, and that did not advocate/imply advocacy for any particular political party. The reason I mention this: if YOU are currently a person of faith in this position, uncomfortable with what you hear from your leadership, go find a church that’s queer-affirming, gives to the poor, and advocates for immigrants. Live in a conservative area? Create or join a home church. That’s what the early church looked like anyway. Don’t shrug off this responsibility. Shine a light.

Anyway. Several years later, I fell.

I had to step down from multiple church leadership positions in one day. My entire life changed in two months; marriage, job, home, friends, everything uprooted when I could no longer pretend to believe. I didn’t tell my family why everything fell apart, even as they let me crash their couches.

I had wanted to be a good believer. I read apologetics, the mystics, eschatology, theophostics. I taught and attended study groups, I took troubled teens out to coffee, I served the homeless, I waited til marriage. I was in church as many as thirty hours weekly. When I first felt my faith slipping I said “not yet,” and I read the entire Bible straight through twice, in different translations, while journaling through “My Utmost for His Highest.” Then, unsatisfied, I read and annotated the New Testament in interlinear Greek. I gave it my everything.

What could replace all that?

Time, it turns out. And freedom.

Freedom to not think about it was perhaps the kindest freedom. The constant labor of self-evaluation and thought policing that goes into Evangelical Christianity is exhausting. Letting it go of it felt like getting my mind back. Or owning it for the first time, since I never knew this freedom before. I had even been seeking counseling because I was hearing multiple voices in my head at once, all mine, often arguing. That problem vanished the hour I deconverted. I heard only one voice anymore, and it was my own.

For ten years I was free to just not think about it.

When I decided to remarry I realized that I didn’t want to explain to anyone why my ceremony would not include prayers or communion. So I told my loved ones at last that I was an atheist, a decade late. They received it graciously, and I’m sure they had known-but-not-acknowledged it for a long time. I hope they don’t worry about me or pray behind my back for my salvation. But if they do I can’t accept responsibility for it anymore.

Since that confession I’ve finally felt compelled to back at what all actually happened in church. It seemed so normal to me at the time. But wait, it wasn’t:

I exorcised people. I laid on hands for healings. I encouraged episodes of religious rapture, falling out, and speaking in tongues, and as a worship leader I knew the music cues to bring them about (yes, there are certain chord and tempo changes for that). I was present for prophecies that changed people’s lives and might have issued some myself, I don’t remember. I alienated people who didn’t fit in, whether because they were queer or just because they didn’t conform to church culture. I witnessed abuse and had no language to report it or even comprehend it. I hurt people. I was hurt.

I was told there were real demons in my room and I had to pray them away all by myself.

The work of undoing this mindf*ck (sorry friends of faith, that’s how it felt) suddenly turned urgent after being ignored for a decade. I can’t afford therapy, but thankfully Twitter chats and message boards and podcasts exist (thank you, @goodchristianfun​ and @exvangelical​).

And then -- out of the blue -- along came my own personal angel and demon, along with Frances McDormand herself. I watched it on a whim. (Actually no, David Tennant’s hair made me.)

Apparently Good Omens had a few things to say directly to my mindf*cked subconscious:

1) Are you scared of demons in a pathological childhood trauma way? Here, have a helping of this amalgam of your favorite Doctor and scariest ever Marvel villain tearing it up as the demon Crowley.

2) Does your mild bookish personality and respect for the culture you grew up in keep you reflexively deferential to authority, even as it gaslights you and hurts others? Enjoy some Michael Sheen as the angel Aziraphale.

3) Are you stuck still mentally assigning a male gender to the god you always claimed was beyond gender? Boom, meet Her in all Her ineffable wisdom.

4) Are you terrified of the End Times, both as a Biblical horror of childhood and as an adult who reads the f*cking news? Let’s fantasize awhile about a solvable apocalypse (because what would that even look like, yo).

5) Do you keep reflexively binarizing good and evil? Still giving in to the temptation to characterize humans as righteous or fallen, especially celebrities and political prospects? Spend some time on Our Side with Adam, the utterly human Antichrist, as he makes choices that matter -- some goodish, some baddish, all with mixed consequences, because that’s what humans do.

6) Do you need more queer love stories in your life? Yes you do. Yes. YES. Here it is. The good stuff. Whether it’s gay, trans, genderfluid, asexual, agender, metaphysical, whatever (I’m enjoying reading all these takes and more on AO3) it’s a hell of a love story.

Good Omens was a f*cking revelation.

I’m not sure why the show hit me as hard as it did in the Exvangelical feels. It’s not that it’s a perfect show, but it was the right thing at the right time for me, and it brought a truck full of dynamite to the excavation I was just beginning with a trowel and a makeup brush. I finished watching ep 6 and thought “why do I feel like I’ll be thinking about this every single day for years?”

And then I looked down, and lo and behold I had an open chest wound -- inside of which I found the banished memory of a child trembling and praying in terror in a dark room.

There was a lot that I forgot about in the ten years it took me to hike away from Evangelical life. It all came rushing back.

I had forgotten the sweat and cries during exorcisms and the heat of laying on of hands. I had forgotten fits of ecstatic tears of self-hatred and self-denial so strong they were almost blissful, as I sang and chanted mantras like “I am nothing, You are everything.” I had forgotten giving away ten percent of my income until I was 26. I had forgotten the constant mental effort of Being A Proverbs 31 Woman, about submission and complementarianism and feeling responsible to guard the virtue of men by never tempting them. I had forgotten the pressure to not even masturbate before marriage and to become a sexual athlete the night after.

I had forgotten the hours and hours of daily prayers. Every phrase was carefully carved in language my superego ran by my doctrine, to make sure no hint of rebellion ever bled through. I washed words of need and doubt and frustration from my mind so they could never slip between me and my Heavenly Father. I didn’t just want to hide thoughts God wouldn’t like, I would have cut them out with violence if I knew how. As a result I picked and ticced and cut and exhibited symptoms of OCD.

It hurt to remember all of this at once during a BBC Amazon Prime miniseries. It confused me. It confused my spouse. I looked at all these feelings, exposed and piled in a massive dirty heap -- and I spotted the straps I used to haul it around with me for decades. Who knew I could carry all that? The weight of faith?

But I don’t have to pick it up again. I had a new story to help me frame my story. I felt equipped with a flaming sword to face my past and a new syntax to describe the old ideas I'm ready to let go of.

I got to recast Heaven and Hell. I was invited to ask myself whether a cozy cluttered bookshop doesn’t beat them both hands down.

I got to reimagine angels and demons, good and bad, intentions and consequences. I was invited to live in the reality that we’re all of us humans in between, and that I’m probably still overinvested in the value of Good and Bad as yardsticks.

I got to reimagine western history. The show’s perspective of history is very limited and Eurocentric, but it’s also the version of history I was taught at an early age, which made the story a useful lens to deconstruct what I learned before I knew much about critical thinking.

The opening of Episode 3 in particular f*cked me up. First Aziraphale lies to God and She vanishes, then Crowley starts poking holes in the story of the Flood, then at the Crucifixion -- I started breathing hard on my first viewing, experiencing a real physiological threat response. I was loving it, of course, but distressed panicky love.

The second time I watched it I realized what was happening: I was going back to Sunday School to revisit ideas I absorbed before I was fully sentient, and examining them in the light of fully formed adult secular morality. They look different from here.

When God withdraws Her presence from Aziraphale in the first few moments of Ep 3 as he prevaricates (well, lies) I remembered the one great fear of my faithful life: that I could sin a particular sin and as punishment I would be cut off from God’s presence. As a believer in the End Times, that meant the Rapture could occur at any moment and I might be rejected, be left behind to experience the Tribulation.

Now, from some remove, I realize that I always had one fear larger. It’s a thought I never allowed myself to entertain consciously. Good Omens unearthed it like a vein of flowing lava:

If the Apocalypse as my church describes it is real, how could God want it to happen? And if God does, is this a God I want to worship? If I don’t, but I’ll be damned for that, is my faith freely chosen?

Whose side could I really be on, in the End Times, if not Heaven’s or Hell’s?

These are not small questions.

I’m relieved that I answered them a long time ago for myself.

But even after the answering, there’s fallout; a million little knots to untie and ideas to unlearn. We all get to spend our lives doing this sort of archaeological dig through our childhood baggage, I suppose. My Stuff is certainly not unique. It’s just a lot. Same as everyone’s.

But once in awhile a story comes along and helps us with the process. A sharper spade, a better tool for the work. In my case, through Good Omens I received demolition-grade explosives. It gave me a framework, characters, and a personal shorthand to speed my own digging and contextualize what I find.

If your history is kinda like mine -- whether you’re still in the faith or not -- be sure to talk to someone about church stuff from your past. The weird stuff, the dark stuff, the things you did/people did to you that now seem “off.” Even if you’ve grown past the point of “mental illness requires an exorcism” there are still dangerous ideas buried like land mines in our moral matrices. Self-hatred, intolerance, fear of abandonment, fear that failure is damnation, presumption that “we’re” on the “right side” of everything and “they’re” not, fear that we the apocalypse Is Written by powers above and so we can’t change it.

I’m so happy I know a story with an Our Side now.

I’m so happy I know a story in which the true test of devotion to God’s Ineffable Plan is turning away from the dictates of Heaven and turning toward the World.

I’m so glad I met Aziraphale -- so like me, still seeking Heaven’s approval far too late in the game. I’m so grateful he found the courage to walk away, and I’m so glad I did too. I love that I know Crowley now, self-pwning lovelorn disaster demon of minor inconveniences and imagination and free will. I’m so happy Crowley was there to tempt his friend with questions from the start, and to receive him when he was finally ready to break away.

I’m so proud to know Adam and the Them and Anathema and Newt, inept humans trying their hardest against unstoppable cosmic forces, getting it right not just despite their flaws but through and because of them.

I’m so grateful I’ve finally managed to completely swap to female pronouns for God (thanks, Frances). I still love stories about Her, I still enjoy talking theology and religion. And after 20+ years of insisting God is above gender but masculinizing him, it’s about time I switch to thinking of God as Her for a spell to even things out.***

I’m so thankful for the nicest fandom I’ve known in ages and all the glorious queer beautiful amazing body-positive art and writing growing in this fabulous garden.

Confession accomplished.

CM

P.S. I might not have the time/resources you need to chat with you if you’ve had similar experiences or want to discuss. If you need help be sure to reach somewhere healthy to get it. If you witness abuse, online or in church or otherwise -- report it, block it, mute it, shut it down, whatever is in your power.

P.P.S. If you have words of rebuke for me from a churchy place, and/or critiques about gender or politics, sorry, don’t give a f*ck. This is my story to tell and I am secure in my spiritual status. I am free indeed.

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*Re. Deconversion: Or rather, I had my faith zapped out of me in what turned out to be the truest rapturous religious experience of my life. It happened in a church service; I almost fell out and spoke in tongues with the tingling power of understanding that I was truly and finally faithless. It’s an interesting deconversion story if you're familiar with charismatic church stuff, ask me sometime over tea. It felt like this.

**Re. Exorcisms: Most disturbing was the regular practice of exorcising people who clearly needed professional help for their mental health. I was present when prayers against demons happened over cases of depression, manic depression, epilepsy and other seizures, addiction, schizophrenia, and psychotic episodes. My particular church did acknowledge the role of modern medicine, but felt that the true core of these issues was spiritual and that medication ultimately could not solve a problem of demonic infestation. Looking back now I shudder and weep to think that this happened, that I was part of it once, and that it still happens daily at churches everywhere. It can be unspeakably damaging to the people being prayed over. If this practice happens in your church, leave. If it happens at a church where you’re in leadership, end it.

***Re. God as She/Her:  I encourage you to find your own appropriate pronouns for God, whether you believe in Them or not. For me personally, still reeling from the Proverbs 31 upbringing, She/Her is very healing for now. But gender is a construct etc. etc.