#they came to these conclusions on their own

[homunculus-argument]

One worldbuilding thing that's always fun to do is take something you've encountered in the real world, and apply something similar with the same logic into your own. Like those sayings that have two halves, but people usually only know the first half and misunderstand the saying - like "birds of a feather flock together (until the cat comes)" or "great minds think alike (but fools rarely differ)." So I came up with a few for The Book I'm Not Writing:

Hungry dogs are loyal dogs (until someone else feeds them) - neglecting and mistreating your underlings may work as a short-term tactic for making them obey, but it's also a guarantees that they'll betray you at first chance.

The mouth of an idiot is as loose as the strings of their purse (so be there when gold may drop out) - just because nine out of ten things that someone says are completely useless doesn't mean you should dismiss them altogether. They might still know useful things, even if they can't tell it's useful.

Blood makes a foul dye (it stains, but it won't last) - here "foul" is often interpreted as "brutal" or "gruesome", when it's meant as "of low quality". Using violence as your way to establish dominance and maintain authority because it's easier than building networks of mutual trust and respect is as stupid and short-sighted as using blood to dye clothes because it's cheaper than proper pigment.

A fool will starve to death while waiting for grain to grow (but it is also a fool who'll slaughter an ewe an hour before it lambs) - Immediate problems require immediate solutions, but you'd better make sure that your drastic emergency solution is the right one.

A blind horse will go as you guide where a half-blind one dare not (both through the darkness and down a cliff) - an agent who doesn't know the purpose of their task will obey blindly, where one that knows some part of it might disobey out of distrust, but neither is as reliable as one that does see the big picture, can draw their own conclusions from the information they gather, and adjust their plans accordingly.

[damndamsy]

renegade | aemond targaryen x oc (part ix)

a/n: Silverwing being ride-or-die is my new favourite trope

Princess Aemma Velaryon's death reached Dragonstone only after her forlorn brother, Prince Lucerys, feverishly searched the seas and skies alike for any sign of her or Silverwing. All he came upon of her was the shredded length of her velvet cloak by the shores of Shipbreaker's Bay, his sister's sweet lavender perfume lost to the salt of the sea. He had clung to it like it was his lifeline, and that's how they found him in the Sea Dragon tower, within Aemma's chambers—crying his eyes out and calling out to her.

Luke sobbed deeply, pulling at his hair. "It should've been me."

Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon walked in on Luke, eager to see her children again, and eventually registering his undone suffering. Once the mother noticed the familiar article of clothing—formerly her own—she went insensate. Her shoulders shook, composure gone to ashes, and sank to her knees. Daemon was stoic to the scene, save for his hand that went to direly fist at his sword.

The older prince spoke first, relieving the tension. Despite his grave face, his tone was forbidding, intending to burn. "Who the fuck did this?"

Luke's upper lip curled, his hands clenching at his sister's cape. "Him."

Nothing else needed to be said. The reality of who was capable of executing such treason was well understood, though uttering his name was like spitting venom.

Rhaenyra roared out with the visceral fury of a dragon, and once that drained, she was but an empty vessel. She heaved a solemn breath, palming at her abdomen. The misery that wracked her labours was far less cruel than whatever this was, the anguish overwhelming, her chest aching with the burden of mourning two daughters, their deaths igniting the flames of war.

When she tearily looked to her side, Daemon had disappeared.

Prince Daemon had been conditioned to barbarity and grief, so much they were welcome drinking companions of his. Aemma was no different to this addition. In her, he saw echoes of his own turbulent youth—the same steely determination, the same unpredictability, the restless drive to remain an enigma to those around her. Perhaps it was this reflection of his own wild spirit that spurred him to seek out grisly revenge.

Daemon's warpath toward Caraxes suddenly stopped as he saw him standing before the painted table. The hollow swordsman. The one-eyed kinslayer. A mirror of Daemon's worst motivations. Here stood the rider of the beast that had slain his daughter.

Daemon unsheathed Dark Sister without hesitation, the Valyrian blade slicing through the air with a menacing swish.

"Poetic justice or self-destruction?" he muttered, masking his fury.

Aemond bore a black smile, barely lifting his lips. "Depends on which of us you ask, uncle."

X

Rumours had begun to spread that Aemond Targaryen had defected to the Blacks. Some even called it a surrender. Perhaps it was the stabs of a prickling conscience, the blood stains of love in his hands, or the affliction of sorrow that had overtaken him, making him ready to face the wrath of a grieving mother—and his own death. Bereft of his truest calling, shattered by dreams he had destroyed with his hands, the one-eyed prince swiftly concluded that life held no meaning without his princess. He intended to follow her footsteps soon enough, to fulfil the conclusive detail of their promise: never to part from Aemma henceforth.

Without Aemond and Vhagar, King’s Landing had become perilously vulnerable. The soaring pall of the largest and most terrifying dragon no longer loomed over the capital, and it was clear to all that their strongest defence was now absent. The Greens' was evidently morale staggered. With Vhagar’s absence, Rhaenyra’s forces could bring the fire with seven dragons and fewer consequences, and rumours of dissent spread throughout the city. The Greens were losing their grip, outmatched in numbers and firepower, leaving the smallfolk exposed and the city teetering on the edge of defeat.

Terrible fables spoke of King Aegon and Aemond One-Eye’s grandiose schemes to slay the false queen under the guise of begging for mercy. But these tales were discredited when it was revealed that Aemond had been imprisoned in the chambers of the late princess—a ruthless move orchestrated by Queen Rhaenyra. It was, in every sense, a final sentence.

“If that savage snake truly loved her,” Rhaenyra had said vengefully to her husband, “then that place will drive him mad. Let his evil haunt him. I want to see the fear in his eyes when I burn him.”

Yet fear was not something Aemond would entertain. He would sooner fall on his sword than show terror before his wretched half-sister.

Over time, however, he did fall—deeper into madness consumed by the unfamiliarity of being locked in the space that had once been Aemma’s. The burden of memory became the iron bars and chains of this prison. Numb to everything else, he wandered her chambers aimlessly, haunted by her absence. She was everywhere and nowhere at once—in the vanity, where strands of her hair clung to her hairbrush; in the bureau, where her meticulously folded maps and lists remained undisturbed; and in the faint perfume that lingered in the air, forever scenting her dresser.

A full moon's cycle passed before Aemond began hearing her voice. A breathy echo, a laughing whisper, a figment of his broken mind. With each crash of the waves against the jagged rocks beneath her balcony, he would catch that soft, familiar sound: My friend.

The echo eased him in ways nothing else could, drawing a smile to his face. If this was madness, it was madness he welcomed. My love, he thought, and in that moment, he would’ve gladly surrendered to it.

Jace was the one who finally confronted Aemond, his vengeance boiling over upon his return from the Vale. Sword in hand, he cornered the one-eyed prince in his sister's chambers. What was surprising was how the captive did not baulk at the sight of the angry prince. He simply tilted his head, offering his neck and awaiting the onslaught.

"Fucking murderous cunt," Jace spat, barely above a whisper, trembling with restrained fury.

Aemond was inured now. It resounded in his mind with every breath, a constant reminder of what he'd become. His gaze remained distant, vacant as he met Jace's stare.

"Mount your dragon," Jace ordered, dripping with disdain. "I only spare you this avail because of how dearly Aemma loved you."

Aemond didn’t even blink. It took more effort than expected to form words after days of silence.

"I will not fight you," he muttered, voice gravelly from disuse. "So, get it over with. Finish me."

But Jace wasn't about to grant him that release.

"You're coming with me," he growled, eyes blazing with wrath. "I won't believe my sister is gone until I see it with my eyes. Find me Silverwing, and only then will you get what you so desperately crave."

Aemond turned away, blinking back a rare sting of emotion clouding his vision. He had been so benumbed, that the sensation sliced him raw. His jaw clenched, forcing his voice through the anguish tightening his throat.

"Silverwing sank beneath the waves."

"Then she should've washed ashore by now," Jace snapped, his tone sharpening. "Or been spotted near Storm's End, or found by sailors off Driftmark. Someone would've seen her. I will not grieve with my family until I know for certain. Until I’ve seen damning proof."

Aemond’s teeth ground together in frustration. "My hope ended with her."

"Hope?" Jace sneered, the word wresting bitterly in his mouth. "Know this, uncle—gods forbid I find what I seek, you won’t just be dead to the realm, you’ll be nothing more than a relic of a prince no one will remember."

X

We cannot know the ancient minds of dragons. They were not merely instruments of war—they were beasts of chaos, as unreliable as the gales they rode. A bitter reminder of how little command Targaryens truly held, even over their own beasts. Yet, the Good Queen's Silverwing had always been distinct from the others—gentler, some would say, with a serenity that belied the strength coiled within her shimmering, pale-scaled body.

Her loyalty to her peaceful rider ran deeper than bloodshed or battle, for it was not assumed upon command or duty but of a friendship that transcended power. It was instinctual, a mutual loneliness that they shared. Silverwing had intuited Aemma’s presence since her first touch upon her scales, the soft whispers of affection, the implicit trust.

Following Aemma's descent from her dragon's saddle, the waters hit her hard, churning her into the abyss. Just as the waves threatened to pull her deeper, Silverwing cut through them, her talons outstretched, and in a swift, precise motion, she plucked Aemma from the depths before the sea could claim her entirely. Silverwing’s grip was painstaking, cradling her rider’s limp form between her sharp talons, ensuring she was protected. With a great struggle, Silverwing battered her wings against the storm, fighting the ocean’s pull, lifting them both back into the air, finding cover above the storm clouds.

And now, in the quiet of this remote sanctuary, camouflaged against rocks, their bond held firm, even as Aemma lay unconscious amidst the mud and grass, suspended between life and death.

The old dragon sensed more than the warmth of her rider's skin when she nudged her snout against her constantly, letting out a low, concerned rumble. She felt the pulse of her heart, flimsy but steady, the rhythm of her breath, shallow but resilient. Every beat, every rise and fall of Aemma’s chest was a call to Silverwing, one that she refused to neglect.

Silverwing would shift her body closer at night, nestling Aemma to the earth, her massive wing folded protectively over the young princess' limp body like a shroud of safety from the bitter storms and the chilliness of dusk. Her fiery breaths ghosted over Aemma, keeping her warm.

Days turned into nights, and nights into days, but Silverwing never left, only venturing far enough to find sustenance, returning quickly, her eyes scanning the skies for any threats that might approach. But none came. The world remained unaware of the little hidden firth by the hills and the fragile life it cradled.

Silverwing’s troth was not just an animal instinct—it was a devotion to the one person who had never treated her as a mere beast. For nigh on a week, Aemma had doted on her, spoken to her in the tongue of Old Valyria, just as Alysanne did, with the same reverence and care, and Silverwing, in turn, had taken her into the skies, free from the burdens of the mortal realm.

In this isolated place, far from the throes of war, Silverwing held the last vestige of hope for her rider’s survival. It wasn't until a dark-haired sailor had stumbled upon their refuge that the mighty she-dragon let out her first roar in a while.

Addam of Hull hadn't expected much that day. He had set out on his small boat with nothing but the hope of catching enough fish to feed Driftmark's shores. The oceans had been restless ever since the bloodshed over Shipbreaker's Bay, and his mind had drifted as the waves lapped at the sides of his skiff. He cast his net, whistling a well-known sea shanty, letting the salt air fill his lungs, when something unusual caught his eye, beyond a small inlet of water rambling away from the beach.

A flash of silver. A rustle in the trees.

As his little skiff crept closer and into the currents of the slight strait, Addam’s heart surged. There, nestled within the protective embrace of the rocks, lay a great silvery-blue dragon that was the name on everyone's fuller lips—Silverwing. Her glittering hide was unmistakable, though it bore the wear of days spent at the mercy of the weather. She lay low to the ground, her immense wings tucked tightly around something as if guarding a prized jewel.

Addam wasted no time. He rowed forth, with all the strength he could muster, his mind racing. Could it be? Could Princess Aemma have survived the hand of fate, the cruel sea, her murderous husband, and the relentless storm? Could it be that Rhaeynra's heir was very much still alive?

As he drew nigher, disembarking his boat and clambering up the rocks, Silverwing raised her head, her auburn eyes locking onto him with a vicious intensity. She cautioned him with a low rumble, ready to spew out her ire.

For a moment, Addam feared she truly might lash out, mistaking him for a foe, but she did not move. Instead, she took a prudent sniff and juddered her head, softening almost.

Eventually, she unfurled her wings narrowly, revealing the motionless form of Princess Aemma cradled beneath her. She was drenched, emaciated, tattered, bruised, and her silver hair matted to her gaunt face, but her chest rose and fell.

There was yet life in her. Barely. All alone. No one else. Just Silverwing standing vigil over her as if she’d been guarding the princess all these days. Ten days.

"Gods be good," Addam murmured.

Silverwing shifted away, stooping into the rocky niche, as if to offer her rider to him, but kept her weather eye on him. Addam made quick work of it, lifting her carefully into his arms off the wet ground. She was light, too light, but she stirred faintly at his touch.

"Princess?" He was unsure if she could hear him.

As he carried her back toward the boat, shrouded her in the coils of his nets, her fiery guardian observed the sailor, her vigilant eyes never leaving Aemma’s form.

She pierced a startling trill at her rider's saviour.

Addam jerked in shock, nearly dropping his docking ropes.

Silverwing rose off the ground, and shook herself off, wings beginning to unfurl as if preparing to take flight.

"You—er, stay," Addam stammered, desperately gesturing with his palms, trying to convey some form of command to the dragon.

He knew full well he was speaking to a creature that answered to no man but her rider, and she was not going to let just anyone snatch the princess away unless she was certain they meant no harm.

Carefully, Addam took a step closer, heart thudding in his chest as he bowed his head to the dragon.

"I'm not here to harm her," he said softly as if Silverwing could understand his plea. "I want to save her."

For a long moment, the dragon stayed unmoving, watching him closely, casting her own unfamiliar judgement. Then, with a slow and deliberate movement, she backed away scarcely.

"Thank you," he whispered, though he wasn’t entirely sure if he was thanking the dragon, the gods, or fate itself.

X

Returning Princess Aemma in such a state to her kin on Dragonstone would have them questioning Addam's heartening intentions toward her. Rather than have them cast their vile aspersions on him and taint his shoddy name further, the brothers knew it was only proper to nurse the princess to health before anything else. The secret of Aemma's survival would remain closely guarded for a while longer.

"She thinks I'm her father," Addam quietly shared with his brother, Alyn, upon the fifth evening of secretively nursing Princess Aemma in their meagre home. It had been a total of sixteen days since she was believed deceased.

Alyn raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the small, makeshift room where their heir to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms lay in a thrifty cot, wrapped in linen blankets and tended to with great care. Her condition had steadily improved, but she remained barely conscious and frail.

"What do you mean, ‘she thinks I’m her father’? Is she delirious?" He asked.

Addam leaned against the doorframe, picking off the herbs from his thumb. "Perhaps she seeks comfort. And she finds it in the late Laenor."

As they spoke, a soft groan emanated from the cot, interrupting them. Aemma stirred, her dark eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again. Her lips moved silently, murmuring incoherent words. Addam and Alyn exchanged a glance, their choices harshening.

Alyn's brow furrowed. "How is she then?"

"Better than expected," Addam replied, shaking his head. "Her fever broke, I've stopped feeding her milk of the poppy. She recalls her mother often. The poor thing had nearly cracked every rib in her chest, the healers had to brace her spine with wood until yesterday. The blood of Old Valyria heals quick, I suppose."

Alyn nodded, absorbing the solemnity of his brother’s words. "And the dragon?"

"Stays close, hovers around the Driftmark groves. I've been feeding her, too," Addam said, shaking his head with a small, wry smile.

Alyn clapped his brother on his back, grateful for him. "How are you faring?"

Addam shrugged casually. "I’m doing what I can."

"Good. Keep watch," Alyn instructed, nodding at him. "On the morrow, I’ll prepare a fresh supply of herbs and check on the guards. There's only so long that we can keep her out of prying eyes."

Addam sat by the firelight in the hearth, his eyes constantly drifting to the young girl as she lay nestled beneath the heavy blankets, adjusting them around her again, his movements careful, almost tender. Every now and then, Aemma would stir, her brow twitching in her sleep, speaking illegibly. The flicker of the flames stained her face in hues of gold and shadow, silvery hair glinting, making her seem almost unearthly, untouchable. She could not have been older than fifteen, an age no child should have to raise battlements in a war.

“She’s strong,” Addam murmured, more to himself than to anyone in particular. “Stronger than I imagined.”

"A future queen," Alyn said. "There's hope for her yet."

X

The second sons of the Blacks and Greens, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and Aemond Targaryen, were unlikely allies as they scoured the realm despite their bitterness, united on a front to find a whiff of Aemma or Silverwing, searching high and low, from the misty mountains of the Vale to the shadowed peaks of Harrenhal and the foggy forests of the Riverlands. Every whisper of a silver-blue dragon sighting raised their hopes, only to be dashed moments later.

The weight of Aemma's absence dangled over them like a blade. Jace was fierce, relentless in finding that damned dragon himself, dead or alive. Maybe they were on a wild goose chase, led astray to not confront the reality that awaited them. Every dead end with clueless lords and fishermen was a new wound, yet he never yielded.

Their unwavering trepidation whenever the folk and lords saw Aemond cut deeper than a lash of a thousand scorpions. Each glance was a reminder, a searing echo of his own words to Aemma that fateful night: "Better to be feared than scorned." But now, as their suspicions pressed down on him, the question gnawed at his memory—was it really? The cold satisfaction he once sought had curdled into something far more bitter, and he found himself wondering whether 'fear' had ever truly been the answer, or if it had only left him more isolated, more empty.

Aemond, however, wore a stoic mask over his understanding of the truth, though beneath it, the torment tore at his soul. If Aemma's room had been perfect chaos, this was his purgatory. His nights grew sleepless, plagued by the recollections of his mistakes, the sight of her empty saddle still burned behind his eyes. He carried the guilt like a second skin, abrading when it got too thin. A little part of him was driven to heed Jace, an insignificant confidence, not by burden but by desperation—a need for redemption, to see her alive, to prove to himself that she had somehow survived.

Now, close to five nights, it had become custom for Jace, drunk on grief and rage, to drag his feet outside Aemond's pitched tent, embracing his shining sword, fighting his morals. Fighting the inevitable. Jace never spoke to Aemond directly, but his accusations found a way into his earshot.

"Aemma was good. Peaceful," he would hear Jace lament. "She had dreams. She was our sunshine. Now she’s out there somewhere, alone in death. Or worse. And you, of all people, claim to be the one who loved her? You never did. You fucking murderer. Selfish cunt."

This night, a familiar darkness flickered alight in Aemond. Unfailing despair powered him to react. He walked out of his tent, stepping forward in a threat until Jace's raging face was inches apart, his sword slipping from his grasp. His single eye narrowed.

"Say it again," Aemond dared, his voice low and cold. "Say that I do not love her. Say it, bastard."

Jace shoved him by his chest, his rage boiling over. "You threw her away like she was nothing! For your treacherous family! You never gave a fuck about her, and that is the truth!"

Aemond stumbled back but didn’t fight back. How could he, he had nothing left to withstand. His mouth twisted in pain, but his voice remained hard.

"Hate me all you want. Blame me. Strike me down. Your words hold facts. But don’t think for one second that your fury burns hotter than mine. Or that your love for her transcends mine own."

"Fuck you!"

Jace shoved him again, shouting out his rage, this time harder, the power of his wrath pushing Aemond back a step. And again and again, until Aemond fell back into the mud. Back again to ten years ago, when a spiteful Aegon had towered over him, Sunfyre peering over his shoulder mockingly.

Jace met his gaze, the two facing eye to eye, the consequence of years of rivalry and betrayal still fresh between them. But beneath it, there was something else now—shared desperation, grief that only they could understand. The closest brother of Aemma and her husband.

Aemond's breath hitched, bearing himself with his palms, the words barely escaping through his gritted teeth. He looked Jace in the eye, his jaw tight.

"I have nothing left. Seize your sword and end it all."

Jace leaned down, seething, his voice trembling with scorn. "Look at where your absolution got you. Begging your foes for death. Pathetic."

Aemond’s hand twitched toward his dagger on instinct, his face a storm of rage and remorse. He had been so accustomed to being on his back, bearing through the punches thrown, facing defeat, now when he was made to encounter this yet again.

"Yes. That is all you see," Aemond agreed, his expression darkening. "All you ever see. Aegon, Rhaenyra, you. A pathetic boy too sightless for power. I've belonged nowhere but with Aemma all my life"—his voice cracked—"and now she's gone, too. And I am left trapped in this resenting world."

Jace stayed quiet, breathing deeply.

"I could not save her," he whispered, the words hollow as they left him. "No atonement will ever free me from this, even while I chase forgiveness from a ghost. I will never know peace again until my last breath."

His trembling fingers unsheathed his dagger and threw it to Jace's feet. "Make your shot count, nephew. Plunge it into my other eye, and take what is due. I do not care anymore."

Jace’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He took a step back, torn between fury and pity, his expression unreadable. He looked away, blinking back tears as if the significance of Aemond’s words was too much to bear. He couldn’t bring himself to speak—there was nothing left to say.

"You don't deserve peace, not even in death," Jace eventually whispered before walking away.

X

The air was dense with the scent of salt and damp wood as Aemma lay in a bed draped with soft linens, the faint sounds of the lapping waves against the rocky shores of Driftmark echoing in her ears. Her body felt heavy, as though weighed down by an invisible force. Pain coursed through her like a vicious tide, abrupt and relentless, yet there was a warmth surrounding her that whispered of safety.

Fingers of consciousness began to weave their way through the fog enveloping her mind. Flashes of memory flickered like distant constellations—Silverwing’s fierce wings, the chaos of the storm, and Addam’s urgent voice calling her name. She struggled against the haze, her heart pounding with the remnants of fear and desperation.

"Aemma." The voice broke through her reverie, softer now, tinged with concern.

She fought to open her eyes, the effort feeling monumental. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered, and the dim light of the stuffy room began to emerge. A figure stood at the foot of the bed, cloaked and hooded, shrouded in shadow.

A wave of shock washed over her, and before she could fully grasp the situation, he lunged forward, pressing a warm hand to her lips to silence her gasp. Heart racing, Aemma’s gaze narrowed, the edges of her memory sharpening.

"Ssh, my love," he shushed her.

She recognized the intensity in his gaze, even from beneath the hood. He hovered close, his presence both alarming and strangely familiar. His silver hair rolled off his neck and shoulders, catching the light and casting shadows that accentuated the depth of his expression. One striking violet eye shone through the darkness, piercing and filled with emotion, while the other was shrouded in shadow.

“Aemond,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, like the faintest breeze. It felt like a lifetime since she had last spoken, her throat dry and cracked.

He flinched at the sound of her voice as if she had struck a nerve. Slowly, he lifted his head, an indigo eye swirling with a charged storm—pain, regret, and something darker lurking beneath the surface.

His voice was as firm as steel, yet equally gentle. "We've done our parts here. You’re coming with me, and this time, forever."

X

[gamergirl-niffler]

What if... there is more to Dabi?

Sometimes I sit and think about stuff because of that I often have weird ideas, theories, headcanons, etc.

For the last few days, I was thinking about Touya and Dabi. How he was super fixated on revenge, EVEN if there were less aggressive ways to solve all of this...

And came to the conclusion:

"What if Touya suffers from DID and Dabi isn't just a way to hide his true identity, but a personality that developed to protect him and seek justice for his harm?"

It's probably super wrong approach but hear me out!

(From what I read on Wikipedia)

Early childhood trauma, places someone at risk of developing DID.

Traumas like: childhood abuse, violence, neglect, or severe bullying, dysfunctional family dynamics were reported in people suffering from DID

We all know "hellish" Todoroki family and the way stuff went there.

Touya was a child "created" for greatness by Enji.

From the very being, Enji put into Touya's head that "HE will be the one to suppress All Might himself" and since he was just a child he believed in this.

He believed his father, he wanted to learn, he wanted to achieve this goal, make his father proud, proof he is worth his love and attention because his other siblings were no threat.

Then Shoto was born, and BAM, everything burst like a bubble.

THAT'S WHEN DABI'S DEVELOPMENT COULD START.

Once loved boy with SO many expectations put into him was thrown aside like a rag doll for the sake of little brother.

Neglectful and selfish actions of his own father, mixed with Touya's obsession on being THE CHILD his father once said he was, led him to that cursed mountain and when Enji didn't show up...

That's when Dabi came out.

When we see him wake up after 3 years - it's not Touya, but Dabi.

Dabi - The personality developed to protect Touya, to prove that Touya can be the very thing Enji told he will be, a personality made to PAY BACK for all the harm that child had to go through because of bastard father.

He is like an older brother stepping in front of the younger sibling to take all the harm on himself.

It's not TOUYA doing all those bad things while chasing Enji and going against Shoto - It just Dabi.

Dabi who wants desperately show what Touya is capable of while Touya is just tucked away from all the harm, just waiting to be again acknowledged but not out of pity or because his father feels bad for his own actions but because of what he can be.

Of course, Dabi is so fixated on achieving this goal that he takes EXTREME measures - but it's all for Touya's happiness that he deserved ever since he was born.

This may make no sens, but this was a train of thoughts that went through my head very recently. The post is probably messy because I am not the best at making such things and putting them 'on paper"

Feel free to comment and tell me what you think about this, BUT please don't be mine or anything. I didn't mean to insult anyone with my limited knowledge.

I am curious of your thoughts

[yannaryartside]

WE NEED 5 SEASONS

Okay I need to vent a little. Please indulge me

This is for this article that says the 5th season is up to Storer.

Storer said they filmed most of season 4, and some things still need to be filmed. So we will have s4 next summer, and we don't know if there will be a 5th one.

I could put my hand on fire to my belief that we will have 5 seasons. Mostly, because regardless of the importance of showing “being trapped in negative patterns” that was s3 for multiple characters, is not gonna be a satisfying conclusion if all those patterns are resolved in one season.

Realistically, i would not make sense.

Even if you think Claire is Carmy’s salvation, this graceful, perfect angel that came to serve Carmy’s redemption, and when they get together, everything will be fine (that narrative sucks ass, by the way, is perpetually insulting to everyone that had ever had a mental illness to suggest them they only need to fall on the hands of someone that ignores all their defects and are determined to please them). You could believe this is all about self-sabotage, and Carmy will wake up next season, apologize to Claire, save the restaurant by ex-maquina magic, and get his happy ending. Yeah, that will be 4 seasons of a conclusive story and an objectively terrible narrative. It is also very insulting to every person who has a romantic partner who struggles with addiction and/or mental illness to tell them they need to be this fairy tale of a person who is Claire to bring "peace" to their partner and basically solve their life. Fuck that. I refuse to believe they are doing that on purpose.

But if they put the “sleigh of hand” and Carmy has to realize that his emotional dependence on Claire is toxic and only contributed to his depression and disassociation, since you spent all S3 pulling him in that direction, making him believe that is what he wanted/needed, you are going to need a whole season for him even to “scape the illusion.” All of this will align with the Bear having to close, Syd potentially leaving, and starting dating Luca. So, S4 is going to be the “wake-up call.”

S5 should be the season of creating new patterns. Carmy will get into therapy. Syd will come back. The two will create new recipes and work on the menu (collaboration, vulnerability). They will realize they have true feelings for one another. Each character will move towards the place they are gonna end up with.

If you created a whole season about "being in the freeze response" and another two previous seasons of extending trauma and bad coping mechanisms, you are gonna need more than one season to fix that; mental wellness is not like that; it should be treated like something that requires more time combined with efforts.

Not to mention, if SydCarmy is indeed happening, you have spent 3 fucking seasons creating distance between them. I also feel like so much of Sydney's life (to her and to us) is trapped around Carmy's issues, and it actually would make more sense for her to realize being with Carmy is too taxing for her, regardless if she had the most realistic tools to actually help him to grow.

You also had not given Sydney a proper arc to grow from her insecurities and follow her dreams. She still seems to be as insecure of her own skills as when she came in, because Carmy insist on creating a menu based on his trauma. Regardless of his good intentions and the beauty of their connection, she will leave the "bear narrative" as if Carmy is the closest thing she had to a chef David, as if Carmy was the monster she needed to endure to "grow" or "decide better." Fuck that.

[fantaatix]

a stolitz post? in the year of our lord??

warning this is genuinely a long ass post

okay so sometime last month i was watching 3bskyen’s JLMW reaction (really tells you how long i’ve actually been cooking this post), and he was talking about color theory or something but what caught my attention was that he was paused on THIS frame:

he said something about the red/blue contrast throughout the music video; red being symbolic of blitz (the moon) and blue being symbolic of stolas (the ocean (?)) and it got me thinking, i wonder what the gold might symbolize? because this definitely isn’t the first time we’ve seen the color gold in reference to stolitz. first think back to truth seekers, there’s gold in quite a few places

golden rails, golden feathers, golden shackles; this is why i say gold and not yellow. at first i thought it might be symbolic of the power imbalance, but that’d be too easy.

quite the selection of objects, isn’t it? rails imply safety but can also be restricting, the feathers seem harmless but then turn into shackles…possibly reminiscent of the nature the book deal and the role it actually played in blitz’s mind about his relationship with stolas.

but there’s one more thing i left out; the golden dust

...okay...don't laugh...

first time i saw this scene in truth seekers i was immediately reminded of shrek ever after

AND I’M NOT COMPARING BLITZ TO RUMPELSTILTSKIN, i’m not trying to imply they stole from shrek ever after, THAT'D be a stretch. if anything blitz is better compared to shrek himself, but i'm not gonna write about that because i Don't Want To

but if i’m remembering correctly, that movie revolved around the theme of taking good things for granted, like your partner and your friends, which aligns pretty well with how blitz’s bad trip ends:

“i believe your subconscious is trying to tell you that you simply cannot fathom proper intimacy, but also craves it as well. it’s rather unfortunate, sir, considering it’s often how you treat those who stand by you, such as myself. are you worried i may have enough of it one day, as well?”

"you cannot fathom proper intimacy."

blitz doesn’t know how to be close to other people–i don’t think he understands the relationship he has with any of the people in his life.

we still don’t truly know blitz’s full belief on love and we can only deduce it from his actions; he says monogamy is boring but then goes on to stalk his monogamous employees, on their anniversary no less, bringing along his own singular date...

he focuses on the sex in his relationships because that’s what he’s good at; he finds sex less complicated than romance... and then struggles to get his asmodean crystal to open a portal because he can’t get it off.

he has this recurring pattern where the title of “best friend” eventually turns into something else, often unrequited...

“...my first ever friend!”

he didn't expect stolas' intimate attraction to him. stolas made the connection and it succeeded in making blitz feel guilty about stealing the book; that was why he stayed the night. blitz isn't used to not being rejected, even though he has a record of relationships that stopped once the Evil Four Letter Word came up. when he goes into a relationship, blitz has learned to not expect it to evolve past sex. love has negative connotations to him.

the worst part is we don’t know for certain WHY any of this is, or if it can even be chalked down to a singular thing

yeah, his mom died in a fire blitz caused, his best friend/crush lost his limbs in a fire blitz caused, he’s been treated as property since a young age; you can makes all kinds of correlations between these events and how they might have affected him later in life but as it stands now, we have no concrete answers other than the conclusion that blitz hates himself and has commitment issues.

but back onto that “taking things for granted” tidbit–subconsciously, he knows relationships can be good, but he feels he has to give up a lot of freedom in order to maintain one of his own.

also note how blitz is desperately crawling up the staircase, feathers kind of just hitting him haphazardly as he does so, as opposed to trip!moxxie who takes a few steps up after picking up a feather of his own volition. he knows moxxie’s relationship is more stable than any relationship he’s ever had, and yet:

“stop fucking talking, all of you!”

cue the gold dust.

now, i'm not saying the book deal was a good thing. in fact, it kind of reinforced the power imbalance between blitz and stolas. i'm saying that from blitz's perspective, it was a safeguard. any feelings he might have had for stolas before could be dismissed, and he does exactly that one episode prior;

"it's a transactional fucking, you see..."

what i think he does take for granted is the advice “moxxie” gives to him, his attempts to reach out in a meaningful manner, kind of like stolas’ attempts to reach out. he ignores them both; he’s too deep into his own denial.

also, STAIRCASES IN THIS FUCKING SHOW.

why do these fruity little men think so low of themselves and so highly of others??

i guess that's a bit of a rhetorical question, we all know the answer, but. wait. hold on a sec

ohhhh.

OOOHHHH, that's what this post was gonna be about!

i fucking GOT all of you, you thought i could go a post without talking about him you're WRONG and should feel SILLY.

so this was the OTHER thing i realised when watching 3bskyen's JLMW reaction: it follows the same theme as moxxie's bad trip!

JLMW vs. moxxie's bad trip

in helluva boss, we're used to seeing staircases being symbolic of a difference in power or importance, or a staircase to heaven, or a highly anticipated event going wrong *cough cough ozzie's cough full moon cough cough*

however, i think in the context of moxxie’s bad trip and JLMW, it can also be attributed to emotional distance. like stolas, moxxie's also looking for an emotional intimacy/understanding between him and blitz (he spends his whole trip actively trying to get on the same level as him for crying out loud).

this could also fit into blitz's bad trip; he's trying to get on the same level as stolas, but feels like even if he ever did, he'd still be inherently worthless. a "play thing".

he doesn’t know why anyone would want him for anything else, but he’s clearly not all about the hierarchy.

they need to get on the same level as each other emotionally; they need to break the power dynamic, and thats why the book deal had to go.

the difference in the symbolism is that while blitz has a straight and narrow path to trip!stolas, moxxie’s path to trip!blitz is this winding, unguarded staircase. he almost falls off.

now, compared to both of those, stolas’ path is a fucking stroll. albeit an emotionally damaging stroll, but it takes less physical strength.

conclusion; stairs are symbolic of a difference in power, but gold is symbolic of something else.

and there is a power dynamic between moxxie and blitz. it's not like stolas and blitz's dynamic, it's an artificial imbalance; blitz is the boss, moxxie is the employee. and moxxie has his own inferiority complex, which i think plays a role in it too.

the imbalance between stolas and blitz is kind of, unfortunately, inherited. but it's not impossible to manage. of course, stolas doesn't care about where blitz is on the hierarchy, he doesn't care about the hierarchy period. but it's still there. blitz cares because it affects him.

"you will be technically under his jurisdiction, but..."

this was problem one. stolas unintentionally demonstrating his power over blitz. "surprise, i technically made you someone else's property! please love me!" i'm exaggerating but this is definitely not the kind of thing you spring on your partner; they needed to talk about this beforehand, but according to stolas:

"no need for an arrangement, it can just be him and me!"

sigh. the many different ways this night could've gone

this is enough to trigger blitz's fight or flight. he wants to be with stolas, but he doesn't want the freedom to choose to be with him, which is problem two:

because blitz's belief of love is so inherently fucked up,

what are the chances that the very thing stolas gave to blitz to reaffirm his free will was just interpreted as another shackle?

blitz doesn't do commitment; stolas doesn't say "i love you", he doesn't need to. if you love something, you let it go, and if it comes back then it's yours--which happens in the very next episode.

blitz is the first person to mention love.

but if they want to love each other, they have to be equals, which was why the book deal had to go. they can't hold each other to these super high standards because that'd just set themselves up for disappointment. they have to be on the same level.

tldr: they're two sides of the same coin. literally!

color theory for dummies, a brief intermission

fun fact: i actually didn’t learn color theory in an art class, but in a textiles class. we love american education. but anyways, i’m gonna ask you to draw your attention specifically to the complementary colors.

we start the chorus of JLMW in a purpley sort of place, which then shifts into gold, and then into the red/blue contrast.

except red and blue aren’t complete opposites, they’re both primary colors.

if they wanted complete opposites, they could’ve used red and green, or blue and orange, which are admittedly uglier combinations but the point is that stolitz aren’t complete opposites.

however, purple and yellow, or gold, ARE complete opposites; they’re complementary colors. if purple is implied to be symbolic of stolitz together, then could gold imply stolitz apart?

well…no. i think that’s the wrong angle. if they wanted that contrast, they could have left the gold out entirely, because red and blue separate is stolitz apart.

so how are we supposed to deduce what the gold is actually symbolic of? because no, i don’t actually think it’s an extended shrek 4 reference. that kind of exclusively pertains to blitz’s trip.

listening to the lyrics in the gold part;

This unspoken contract

A deed we forged for mutual gain

If that's all this was when you're not here

What is this rooted pain?

I don't care that you're of lower station

Or primed to sate my dark temptations

Why can't you understand? Let me explain

And I'm terrified as I cry

To make these feelings true

What's left for me and my broken heart

If I cannot have you?

a direct mention of the book deal…and another mention of the power imbalance…so i realize am starting to sound insane, but please hear me out.

i think the main theme of helluva boss IS learning to love in spite of damages and traumas and insecurities–not ignoring either of those, but learning to work around them or possibly heal those parts of yourself so you can love someone else effectively. learning from mistakes.

so what if the gold is symbolic of the simple desire of a mutual understanding? or a meaningful connection with someone else?

tying it all back together somehow

both moxxie and stolas want to connect with blitz (in different ways), but for stolas, that means severing possibly the only thing connecting them thus far (the book). for moxxie, that means climbing the staircase and possibly being pushed even further away.

moxxie also has this high opinion of blitz despite all his obvious (and not so obvious) flaws. i think it's partially because of his own inferiority complex, but to him, blitz is the phantom--his scar becomes the mask he hides behind. he knows blitz puts on this loud, crude personality to hide his cracks and keep others away, and has a scarily accurate portrayal of him in his mind.

moxxie wants to be on the same level as blitz, and he knows it's possible to get there, because he's a damaged character himself and he gets it. he's just yet to take the actual first step.

stolas, even in his own imagination, doesn't think it's possible to be emotionally intimate until the deal is broken. he could reach for blitz, but blitz wouldn't reach back. he's not looking. not to mention the literal celestial view he has of blitz in his head.

while stolas can see blitz's damage, he can't fully comprehend it yet, partially because blitz won't give him the chance and partially because stolas isn't damaged in the same way he is. they both had deadbeat dads, but they adapted in different ways.

that's just the way trauma works, you adapt to deal with it, and then have to unadapt those unhealthy coping mechanisms once you're finally safe. it just takes a while for people to realize they're actually safe, and these fruitcakes are no exception.

conclusion? uhh, i don't know, i guess i don't really have one. just. enough with the discourse about these bitches i guess??? just give them each some time, change takes more than two seasons.

i guess i could compare the way the songs are set up but this was supposed to be out like two days ago and it's already 11:45 so. maybe some other time, maybe in a post about moxxie's Interesting taste in musicals

was unfortunately unable to finish the mox vs. fizz masterpost this month but we'll see sometime in the coming months, maybe sometime after the next helluva short comes out. been a bit too busy with school and other social things to have time writing these long asf posts about my skrimblos

okay goodnight o/

[satureja13]

While Vlad and Ji Ho and Sai and Jeb enjoy their couple time together, good mates Jack and Kiyoshi are having a picknick. Even though they are supposed to meet for dinner soon. Jack is always hungry. And Kiyoshi wonders why they are not having pizza again, Jack's favourite.

Kiyoshi doesn't realize he's walking on the water again. Or he forgot they are back in the Muggle World and he shouldn't reveal his divine nature here... Let's just hope no one notices him ö.Ö'

And while Jack is happily riding around with a Jet Ski he rented, Kiyoshi is happily browsing his phone. He'd even been longer without reception than the others. 60+ years! A lot to keep up with.

When Jack finally left the ocean and joined Kiyoshi on his blanket, it already got dark and they have to leave soon to meet the others. But Jack wanted to talk to Kiyoshi. He needs to make sure this mateship of theirs is not going to drag them back down to the hell they've been in during their relationship. Jack is not sure how to start and how Kiyoshi would take it so he waited until they were almost due to leave... Jack: "Kiyoshi..." Kiyoshi: "Hm?" Jack took a deep breath in and then he let it all out: "You know, after I - uhm... left you, I had to have a talk with Greg. And as much as I hate him, I think I have to admit that he was right - in some points at least. He said a relationship is hard work. And he didn't hesitate to point out that I also played my part in ruining - eh, us. So I want to make sure we talk about things that make us feel uncomfortable. And things we need - and want." Kiyoshi laughed: "Ah, he gave me that talk too. Even twice. To make sure it seeps through, I guess." Jack: "What? When?" Kiyoshi: "When we were here together, at Beltane. I was still a bit out but he managed to reach me, he is very powerful. And wise."

Jack: "So, what do you think?" Kiyoshi: "I think we should follow his advice and work hard. I cherish ... our mateship too much to let it go to waste again. I promise you, I won't keep anything from you and talk to you if I feel uncomfortable. And about my wants and needs. I will share it all with you. No more hiding - no more secrets." He wanted to say '...you' instead of '...our mateship', but it's not the right time for this when Jack wants to discuss their mateship. And he's still so anxious and vulnerable. It's just the beginning. And they have all the time in the worlds to sort it out. And so they agreed to the new terms and conditions of their mateship.

But Jack was so anxious of being hurt again, he couldn't help it and asked: "Do you think it will work?" Kiyoshi: "Let's just do our best, hm? We both changed, a lot." Jack pondered about it for a while and came to the conclusion Kiyoshi was right. Kiyoshi had spent 6 decades in that tree to reflect and Jack went through the hell of pain for leaving him, his Alpha. And the therapy game chased him through an almost relationship with Lou and even killed him so he could make a brandnew start. They now both know what they have lost. And what they have been missing. A chill wind blew over the ocean to the beach and Jack, who was still wet, shivered. Kiyoshi noticed it: "Don't tell me you are cold!" Jack: "What? No! I'm the Super Soldier, after all!" Kiyoshi laughed: "Hey, no more secrets! You promised!" Jack: "Fine! I'm cold. But it's just a reaction. Because my skin is still wet!" Kiyoshi: "Aouwww. Come here." And he pulled Jack close.

And Jack leaned in. He felt warm in an instant. Kiyoshi smelled so good. Like sun and ocean and food - and Kiyoshi's very own, incomparable scent. Jack: "Do you think this is a weird thing to do for mates?" Kiyoshi: "It's only weird when we make it weird. If it feels good for both of us and we agree on something, nothing should be weird between us. Right?" Jack moved even closer to Kiyoshi's warm body: "Right. We can't compare our mateship with what others have and do, I guess. Not even our woohoo felt weird for me. It felt good, great even. Even though we didn't both agree beforehand. I only felt so bad because I thought it was - eh ... inapproprate, you know. Since you're a diety now." Kiyoshi: "And I was horrified because I knew what you went through and I - eh ... felt I kind of exploited the situation. Though, I had no choice, like you. But it felt good for me too." Jack sighed as he remembered: "So good." Kiyoshi pulled Jack a bit tighter and put a soft kiss on Jack's wet, sandy hair.

They sat there, cuddling, until Jack's phone made weird zombie sounds (that's his ringtone for Sai...) Message from Sai: 'Where are you? We're waiting at the restaurant!' Seems it's really about time to leave. Kiyoshi was already dressed while Jack was still shaking the water - and sand - out of his hair. Kiyoshi endured it - and smiled. It might sound strange, but this quirky side of Jack played a big part helping Kiyoshi get out of the tree. And he wouldn't want to miss it.

Eventually they put the blanket in Jack's inventory and ran over to the restaurant boat in the harbor of Porto Azzurro. Jack knew they would have pizza for dinner, so he was fine with eating something else at their picknick ;)

Ah, it's been a long time since I've seen them so happy together. One of the best days I've ever had with them <3

'It's merely human situations The moments between us both The distance, the passions Finding a reason. Today...Like always, I am thinking of you.

Yes, you see. It's merely human conditions Feeling well or not If it's by day, or if it's by night If it's nostalgia or post-love. Today...Like always, I am thinking of you

Like our time hasn't yet passed. Tell me, where are we? What could happen? Hearts bound by an arrow, but, To each other that's the barrier that must be demolished I am thinking of you. I am thinking of me' Cosas della Vida - Tina Turner & Eros Ramazotti

Outtakes

Ah, I so wanted them both on the Jet Ski, like on their date over a year ago here at Tartosa! But Kiyoshi refused to stay in the water because he developed thalassophobia (fear of water). Who knows when -.- And I only realized hours later: I should have given him that fear-be-gone potion or already turn off that stupid fear option (but it would also remove the wants, I guess?) but I don't use them anyway either. Little Goat: 'That's boring!' Little Goat: 'Let's go over and watch Ji Ho and Vlad again, then!'

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Who killed Jack?' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-28

[carlos-in-glasses]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

Thank you Michelle and @bonheur-cafe for asking! ❤️

Rhythms - I'm only two chapters into posting but the whole thing is written and I do think (alongside Where All This Love Comes From), it contains some of my best writing. It's the story about how Carlos came to write his wedding vows to TK, how he used to write poetry as a closeted teen and the adventures that accidentally ensued, and how he might pursue poetry again with TK's belief in him...

Where All This Love Comes From - The most ambitious I've been with a fic. Lots of flashbacks from TK and Carlos' relationship and pre-canon, as well as 'current day' scenes to handle. I wanted to combine exploring TK's addiction with Carlos' own trauma, while staying as close to canon as possible, and it all came together as I hoped.

Fire Island - TK and Carlos go to Fire Island, where they are befriended by an older gay couple who tell them about life at the height of the AIDS crisis in 1980s NYC. I'll never forget reading this out loud to my boyfriend and both of us crying, and the feedback in which people shared their own memories of how AIDS touched their lives. It's my most meaningful fic on a whole other level. TK and Carlos do not die or get sick in this fic - I know some people were worried about that because I got anons about it, but to reassure, it does not happen.

When Soulmates Swim - An  alternative first meeting AU. TK and Carlos' relationship blooms in many pools as they both heal from workplace injuries. It's smutty, fluffy, angsty and silly. It was such a fun one to write and I desperately want to write a sequel. I have an idea! I just need the time!

Suddenly, In the Silence - This fic was a challenge because I needed to write a satisfying conclusion but also ambiguity, designed so readers decide if they think something happens or not. Based on comments, I think I pulled it off! Also, this was the first fic I wrote after finishing Where All This Love Comes From. I was panicking that I'd never write again because I was spent. So, very grateful to this fic for arriving in my brain when it did! Which was really thanks to a conversation with @thisbuildinghasfeelings - in turn showing how helpful and inspiring this community can be.

[masakuterarr]

HxH Character Analysis : UVOGIN

*cracks my fingers* alright peoples, I've been cooking this for DAYS now and I finally have everything gathered (at least I hope so). So lean back, get something to drink and maybe some paper and pen to take notes :) This will be a long one! (btw if there are missspellings I am really sorry, english is not my native language and it's too much that I wrote and I do not have the energy to look over it again- :') )

Character Analysis of Uvogin, regarding the Sarasa Incident

Numbing and Emotional Detachment

A dumb brute with just muscles and purely driven by the joy to kill. That's probably how a lot of people would describe him. This is actually not really true and I will explain why I think that.

In my perception Uvogin kills because a) it's his 'job' and b) because he wants to drown his own emotions.

There are generally 2 Options we can work with.

Uvogin kills because it's one of the only things that give him a positive feeling, which lasts short term.

Uvogin kills because it's something that numbs his emotions

If we go with option 1, we assume that Uvogin relates positive feelings with killing.

Killing the people who came to kill himself, assumingly gives Uvogin the most pleasure (kinky lol). Assumingly it gives him some kind of kick of adrenaline, knowing he might potentially gives his life. It's probably a same kind of feeling with the russian roulette. (Most people play it because of the death wish, but I don't wanna focus on that too much for Uvogin. This death wish with Uvogin can be a giant topic for itself-)

I simply think, Uvogin got addicted to this kick of adrenaline over time and now simply can't stop.

In the german dub of HxH 2011 it's even put a bit better. There Uvogin says "Because dudes like you appear here and there, I just can't stop killing. It's like an addiction"(I am just obsessed with some of the wording in different languages. Plus I LIVE for german dub Uvogin lol)

NOW, what is ironic about this, is that some moments before Kurapika asked Uvogin what they feel when killing innocent people they don't even know. To which Uvogin answers with "Nothing"

I found this weird so I came to the conclusion that Uvogin has a) to difference between killing innocent people and people who come to revenge or b) he doesn't even know it himself and he is just a confused mess, which makes sense if you consider how his mental health state is after unhealed trauma and unhealthy coping mechanism (but I will go intot his now anyways).

But if we consider Option 2, that killing people is actually numbing his feelings, he might even be the complete opposite of what we thought he is. In this case he might be a emotional mess and killing people is what calms him down.

No matter what tho, Uvogin is heavily addicted to the act of killing and he continues to kill because it's something that distracts him from his emotions. Because judging for how long this has been ago, Uvo is way too deep into this entire hole of killing as coping that he can't bare to face the reality that by now, he is probably even worse than Sarasas murder. So he drowns himself in distraction, pushing the reality down his throat so he does not have to face it. But even if he wanted to, he would probably just break at the actual realization of what he has become.

Extreme Punctuality and The Urge to Control The Uncontrollable

(ah my favorite and the least thing looked at)

At first look it is just a cute funny detail added to Uvogins character to make him a bit more relateable and whole as a character. But looking at it I actually realized a sad thing.

Remember when Sarasa went out alone? The others thought she was just gonna get the tape and come back.

If you look at it and put it simply. Sarasa was late. You know what Uvo hates? Someone being late. Nice when the realization kicks in, is it? :)

To explain it now;

When they found Sarasa in the forest, it was already too late. Uvo realized that if they were to search for her earlier or just arrive earlier, they might have had a chance to make an impact on the outcome. Or even save her life.

With this in mind, Uvogins focus on being punctional now seems less random. His anger towards his comerades being late probably isn't even intentionally. Sarasa's death might have impacted Uvo with a strong sense of responsibility as well.

He wants to gain control over things he can't even control, which is a really common coping response to trauma. He once lost control over something, which led to a tragic consequence and now he fears to lose control once again. So Uvogins 'anger' is not because he is actually mad, but because he fears that the same thing happened to them. He simply just cares and is scared that the ones he cares about are getting hurt and worst case, even die.

Because it happened once. So it's much likely to happen again, right? This is a common anxiety thought process.

Outer Persona and Antisocial Behavior

It is obvious that Uvo has a certain 'tough-guy' persona that he shows to the outside world. It becomes very clear when he fights against Kurapika

When Uvogin begins to realize that Kurapika is stronger than he thought and (from his view) maybe even stronger than himself, you can see how this persona is slowly breaking down.

Outer Personas are a common thing for people with Anxiety and Depression. So I think it is save to assume, this is the case with Uvogin. The reason for that can be really simple; from just wanting to not let the others worry about his mental state or just to seem invincible to other people/enemies.

But it can also be, that Uvogin tries to convince himself that he is invincible and not wants to accept how vulnerable he actually as. And yet again, not being able to accept that he wasn't strong enough when Sarasa needed him to be.

To the 'antisocial' part;

When they found Sarasa in the bag back then, Uvo was about to leave her and the others. This always seemed a bit off to me. Why would he leave if he cared so much about her?

People have various reactions to when they don't know how to handle a situations or emotions. Some people laugh, some cry, some stay silent and some get angry. Uvogin is seemingly someone to cope with aggression or isolation/detachment. He probably just wanted to vanish because he felt weak and helpless, and his body instinctively reacted with aggression and the attempt to cut himself out off the scene.

Even at some point in the fight against Kurapika, you can see how Uvo started to gave up and just emotionlessly repeated himself to Kurapika: "Kill me" .

This also leads to (imo) Uvogin's biggest weakness :

Uvogin and Panic

Uvo is a strong and smart fighter, when it comes to combat. He can probably plan out a lot within just a few moments and has an incredible skill at creative problem solving.

Tho, for me, it tends to panic really easily, leaving him extremely vulnerable. The best example is in his fight against Kurapika but also against the Shadow Beasts. Theres a moment when he got caught off guard and starts to slightly panic, which led him to instinctively cope with aggression;

In the 2011 anime he even calls one of them "bastard" after collabsing onto the ground.

(small addition here cuz Shal wtf, why do you look like someone got you flowers after your comerade just collabsed onto the ground, obviously about to get tortured now??)

anyways-

Uvogins Ego and Self Blame

Ofc this can just be Uvo being Uvo, as he thinks a lot of his own abilities and skills, but since this is an analysis, why not looking into it too?

Maybe Uvogin tends to have an ego problem and high temper because he does not want to get reminded that he can fail too. Because in his opinion, the last time he failed, it led to Sarasa's death.

Logically it is obviously not his fault that Sarasa died. The kids straight up didn’t know what would or could happen. But I am very sure that Uvo always blamed himself for it. The same probably goes for Chrollo and the others as well. And since Uvogin is not in a healthy envirnment, nor got treatment for his trauma ever, he surely blames himself.

(And at this point he surely is not able to stop/change his mind on that anymore. Uvo would straight up rage if he was put into a therapist's office LOL)

A similar thought process might have happened when Uvo got kidnapped by the nostrade family and the others had to save him. After all, it would fit a LOT into his pattern of feeling vulnerable and coping with aggression trying to protect his ego. Cuz if he doesn’t he has to face the reality that he was too weak (again) and the others had to save him, putting them indirectly in potential danger.

His thought process is probably something like: I was too weak → others had to save me → IF they get injured or worst case someone dies bc of it, it is his fault → Cuz they had to save HIM. Because this again is a comon pattern when it comes to Anxiety and Depression.

which leads me to the next point;

Overcompensation with strength and the fear of weakness

My last point. A simple but sad one.

Uvo simply feats of being weak. So he purely focuses on physical strength and mastering his nen as an enhancer.

"If I am too weak, I just need to get stronger, right?"

Because he is an enhancer, he would probably think this simple. And even if we look at it from a depression perspective; A quick way out and taking the first idea to not waste any more time. Especially since Uvo does not seem to be much of an overthinker.

He had emptiness and many questions inside him and his first instinctive answer was strength. As simple as that.

gosh this was a lot- but I warned you before so don't blame me LOL

I hope I was able to explain my thought about him and how I look at him :) I will maybe do a second part, focusing on the "death wish" part I talked about earlier! We will see, no promises.

Feel free to tell me your opinion on this! I would love to hear them 🤍

[yuutaguro]

guess what starts tomorrow 🙂‍↕️🤚

[strawberriederror]

i HATW it, but ig someone’s gotta get me off my high horse once in a while

“Cuando tengo que admitir a mis propios errores para aprender y crecer:”

Odio estar en lo incorrecto pero alguien tiene q ponerme en lo correcto de vez en cuando 🙄 (broma)

[evilcokito]

I lied. He wasn't blushing, he was crying. Like the Black Sabbath song: Lonely is the word-

Actually Angel Sam would wear a modern white and purple suit but i nedded to do something Barroque, bel composto, Mochi this time... you know.

the Au belongs to @ceruleancattail IF YOUR AU IS SO DIVINE, GLORIOUS AND ANGELICAL, WHY ARE IS SENDING ME TO HELL??? love it

[vyladromeave]

oh yeah, this isnt really anything but a little while ago i took like an hour to paint over a screenshot just for funzies. might as well post it. here go. o7

[lucalicatteart]

 sculpted a strange shimmery two headed snail, speckled with wild flowers on it's shell~

[touchlikethesun]

shen yuan… baby… shen yuan my sweet summer child… that’s not… okay shen yuan i am holding your hands soooo gently as i say this but that is not a very straight thing to say. yeah- yeah i know you think you’re straight, and if you’re straight and saying this then it must be a thing straight guys say, i know you think that, but… no straight man in the history of the world has wanted to “cling to” another man’s thighs. even metaphorically. so sorry to break the news to you honey….

[askblueandviolet]

[solidwater05]

I thought too hard about Among Us and now I have serious concerns regarding that reactor