#they started arguing who would surpass childe
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i respect the chilumi ship and think it has great potential for fascinating character studies and/or porn, but i once saw a chilumi fic refer to childe as the strongest of the harbingers(???) and have forever been plagued by bad characterization and weird thirst inspired inaccuracies:/ sorry if this is random but the “strongest fatui harbinger” take is just unfortunately burned in my mind and i must share this curse with people
This is all I can say to you.
But yeah, he's baby. Fandom loves to micharacterise this guy, and it's so often that I see someone praising "wonderful characterisation" in a fic and then I open it and just... no.
#also 'character studies and/or porn' is the essence of chilumi#you are so right about it#also somewhat unrelated: when people found the narcissenkreuz note about his hero namesake being 'the second strongest of his alliance'#they started arguing who would surpass childe#capitano or the traveler or someone else#and I think it's so obvious that it doesn't matter#he'll always be second#bro is a sidekick#that's his samsara#childe#tartaglia#chilumi#rinn talks to people
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Leaving out how shitty of person Sakura is and how she literally never grows up. She was nasty at 8, nasty at 16, and continued to be nasty in her 30s when she became a parent...
People who genuinely don't like Sakura aren't sitting there disparaging her body, hair, or forehead. They're calling into question how her one goal in life was to become the wife of a boy she continued to disrespect for years. How she didn't take her job seriously and put her team in danger because of it, despite no one forcing her to become a ninja. How she continues to treat her own friends and even her daughter terribly.
Emotions?
You mean where she consistently invaded someone's personal space, refused to take NO for an answer, and then made his trauma about her contrived feelings?
Or how she invalidates everyone else's feelings in favor of her own and manipulates even her child's father, so he won't learn the truth of her behavior at home?
Ideals?
You mean the obsession with her looks and not training until Sasuke and Naruto almost die in front of her?
Or how even after that she didn't start taking things seriously until Sasuke left?
Or what about when all her character growth vanished because she got the chance to see Sasuke again and just stopped being helpful in the canon story and went back to being selfish and rude?
Dreams & Goals?
You mean the desire to be Sasuke's wife regardless of how many times he's pushed her away, told her she was annoying, and avoided her?
Or how her obsession with him was so intense she had to try and guilt trip him in the middle of a war for the sake of the world, into confessing non-existent love to her all because SHE claimed to love him?
Or how she was so attached to being an Uchiha wife that she wears his mon like a badge of honor on all of her clothes when he can't even force himself to wear it or even return to the village to see her and his kid.
Relationships?
You mean where she got the guy in the end, but still decided to be a sob story who did everything alone and then complained about getting no help?
You mean where she was hoping with everything in her being, that her new teammate would insult her supposed best friend too so she would be just as hurt?
Or is it how her obsession with a guy was so intense that she drugged her entire team and left them unconscious in enemy territory just so she could go off to see him to 'kill him' but still needed her drugged teammate to come and save her from being killed by him instead?
Or what about when she broke off her first ever friendship over her obsession simply because of hearsay?
Or what about when she taped her picture over the picture of her husband's friend, and then got angry because her daughter found out and dared to ask questions about it, so she threw a super punch at the space by her kid's feet and took the whole house down in the process?
Or what about that time where she was heavenly pregnant and decided to charge into a very dangerous situation, all for the sake of pride and not being left in her teammate's shadows as usual, and then literally put herself and her unborn child at risk?
Abilities & Strengths?
You mean how her stans try to act like she's surpassed her master by 17, and is better than every other woman in the series when she keeps getting curb-stomped and still needs to be saved by everyone else?
Like, no one is arguing that she hasn't improved as a ninja, cuz it's pretty damn obvious she did, but when y'all sit there being like, 'she's a goddess and Hinata sucks!' are you really being truthful? The enhanced punches aren't helping her all that much so all she's got is healing and even then, she's still not the best at it by adulthood. And she hasn't exactly made a name for herself as she never got out of her teammate's shadows... because she wasn't serious when it mattered.
Y'all brag about how 'Sakura won' when comparing her marriage to Ino's as if Ino isn't in a happy relationship. As if Ino doesn't have a good family unit and that Sai isn't a good father. Sasuke won't come back to the village and only talks to Naruto. Sasuke has never kissed Sakura but HAS kissed Naruto and a Dinosaur of all things. Sasuke didn't even know what his daughter looked like when he met her. When Sakura got stabbed while standing beside him, he didn't care, but when it happened to Naruto he asked after Naruto's well-being. Sakura got the guy she always salivated over, but she didn't actually win anything.
Your consistent need to degrade Hinata and Ino as characters to 'prove' that Sakura is somehow better than them, is also sus. Objectively, they have more character growth and better motivations, and while they might not be super strong and can't punch a house to smithereens in a tantrum, they're far better characters and have better relationships with the people in their lives.
But yeah. People not liking SH for all of these things that make up her character, means they are misogynists.
#anti sakura haruno#anti sasusaku#the irony of trying to act like you care about how ppl treat female characters when your whole account's filled with Hinata and Ino slander#like congrats on your activism there pal
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fire and burning in hannibal
(long meta below)
fire comes up frequently in Hannibal, and burning even more so. our first association with the latter is of course Will's encephalitis in season 1, but Hannibal here (above) refers to the "source of light" -- not the one illuminated. what could this source be, if not Hannibal himself? what or who else could be shining the light on Will?
and so Hannibal burns for Will.
burning can be both a transitive and intransitive verb. that which burns things must also be burning. when Hannibal asks Will in mizumono,
"Did you think that you could change me the way I've changed
you?"
his extreme oversight is revealed. that which burns things must already have been burning (intrans.) before the things to which it sets fire even start to burn (in Will's case I would argue both trans. and intrans. work here). of course Will changed Hannibal in the same way Hannibal changed him -- before Hannibal changed him. "to fuel your radiance" -- Hannibal began to burn for Will specifically, to burn Will.
and once two things are burning, in close proximity their flame is one, and anyone above is burnt and the flame reaches heaven, and anyone below sees one source, one act.
"and then there's fire... underwriters lump it all together as Acts
of God."
we see Hannibal avoiding this fact of nature many times, until he is confronted with it in mizumono.
but he does not. the fire is not put out and georgia madchen is a testament to that. and here Hannibal's fatal flaw is exposed all the way: oversight, perhaps, but i would say cognitive dissonance, the contradiction and opposition Will brings to his life, that makes Hannibal try to create by burning. Hannibal believes in and supports Will Graham's agency more than anyone else, yet claims to Sutcliffe that he will himself take control when necessary and put out the fire. Will escapes the hospital still feverish, encephalitic, burning, dying. he doesn't let the fire go out. and Hannibal wants this. Season 1 closes on a rainy day in the shelter of Hannibal's car (a vehicle whose motion Hannibal controls), so that the rain will not put out the burning they share.
It rains again, in mizumono. Will goes out in the rain and the fire is put out and that is his agent decision, and betrayal. the rain, an act of God as much as fire is. when the fire is finally put out it is necessarily between Will and God, between will and God, and Hannibal is both cheated and brutally exposed and excluded as not-God. and so he must respond by both playing God and fighting Him: sacrificing his child, killing his Judas, responding himself to Jesus' plea -- "Forgive them, Father" -- though Will does know what he does:
"I forgive you, Will." *
and facing Will equally, Will in this moment as much a Christ as Hannibal,
"Will you forgive me?" **
and this is why Hannibal touches Will so much as he guts him. he tries so so so hard, he touches him closer than ever before, but you can't light something soaked, and not only does Will not re-light but the contact dampens Hannibal just as it used to strengthen both flames.
so let Will be wet with his own blood, at least, not infernal God's rain. Will is his so Will's blood is his, at least let him be wet with something of Hannibal's,
but it's God's awful rain that's really done it and Hannibal knows.
and he steps out into the rain, and his own fire sputters and hisses out, and the world is dark.
so it is fitting that Hannibal receives his reply in the dark as well.
but only after meeting the rain where it came from, by connecting with and broaching and surpassing the clouds: he takes a plane.*** meeting God where He lives, in the sky, in cathedrals.
God invaded Hannibal's will, Hannibal's Will, so Hannibal encroaches on God, a violent spire into His wretched heaven, imposing on His damned churches.
and he stays above Will in case God tries anything again. he watches from the loft and he kills from above. Will is master of his own fate but Hannibal will make himself the circumstance, since he must.
but the two parted in darkness, both extinguished. Hannibal can watch from overhead, and Will sees Hannibal's and God's flame from underneath as one, but the men can only meet in darkness. so Will's forgiveness comes in the depths of the earth, from death, in the catacomb shadows.
but the teacup cannot be unshattered and the blaze has already effected its change. the fire has left them as they will remain. they are lit together now only ever by external sources of light, serving to expose their darkness. and after Hannibal's 3 years in prison, Will rolls away the stone by moonlight and they fall, downwards, together, into blackness.
s2e10 naka-choko || s2e13 mizumono || s3e3 primavera
* Will's name is significant here, as throughout the show. by referencing this part of the crucifixion, the inclusion of his name and the word "will" in one stroke, "for they know not what they do" is explicitly and intentionally written out and Will's agency is tragically asserted.
** Do you will to forgive me? Which means the same thing but stabs a bit harder.
*** Will, later, catches the rain at its other source -- the ocean -- both on their path to God and to the other, since rain cyclically has no beginning.
#hannibal#nbc hannibal#meta#analysis#naka choko#mizumono#primavera#hannibal (2013)#will graham#hannibal lecter#themes and imagery my dude#s2e10#s2e13#s3e3#hannigram#this is not exhaustive of the show or my notes on the topic but i had a lot of feelings in this particular direction lmao#may be more to come#oh no
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How I imagine Ash’s relationship with his friends to be(Part 1):
Ash, brock & misty are the og trio: There’s no way that brock and misty don’t hold a very special place in Ash’s heart. Ash knows he wasn’t the most likeable child but his journeys with the two of them transformed him into the Ash he is now. Whenever Ash sees rock themed stuff or unique cooking utensils, his mind immediately goes to brock. Same with water themed shit and bug pokemon. He talks with them quite regularly and the group chat they have is complete chaos. Brock is Ash’s big brother. He’s the first one Ash turns to for comfort. Misty and Ash start bickering, bantering and making fun of each other within 2 minutes of talking, but know that the other would wholeheartedly back them up no questions asked.
Ash and Gary are the ultimate besties: They grew up together and were there for each other during the hardest parts of their lives - Ash’s father leaving and Gary’s parents dying. They motivate each other to be the best versions of themselves that they can be. In my ideal world, Ash and Gary did not have quite a big falling out as shown in the show because they talked things out and didn’t let any misunderstandings get in the way of the special bond they have. Although they act quite gay for each other, their relationship is 100% platonic (I personally love ash x gary however their friendship dynamic where everybody thinks they’re dating but they’re actually not and don’t ever plan to be is my fav). Ash is the one who helped Gary realise that researching was the path for him.
Ash, Max and Bonnie: Max and Bonnie are the little siblings that he never had. He loves them to pieces and even if they can get a little annoying sometimes, he wouldn’t change it for the world. Whenever he sees anything that he thinks Max would like, he buys it without hesitation and mails it over. Same goes for bonnie. Both May and Clemont are completely exasperated because their respective siblings keep flexing whatever Ash has gotten for them.
Ash & May are the gremlin twins: Brock had quite the time with these two. He thought that no-one could surpass the trouble that Ash and Misty gave him but he was wrong. Those two would get too caught up in arguing with each other, but these two were on the same wavelength. Sure they had a few disputes but most of the time they got along like a house on fire. They managed to get themselves into all sorts of crazy situations. Max and Brock would have to work together to manage whatever shenanigans they got upto. Ash is insufferable in shipping May and drew. He teases her and mocks her and writes cringy fanfictions about the two of them so he could embarrass her.
They always practice battling together so they can refine their needed skills (contest flair for may and speed and precision for Ash). When the two of them get together, they can eat anyone out of house and home.
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whispering to them like they're alone in the world 🥺
Despite not being ready to hear that, it was exactly how he felt.
With Lori's death, he absolutely lost his ground. His world.
And his son had done it.
The past months hit him like a brick.
First, before all the chaos, before the end of the world- his marriage...so filled with problems- because he didn't have personality, because he didn't have enough time for his son, because he wouldn't impose his thoughts, because he wouldn't solve the matters, because he kept avoiding the problems....
And then...she was with Shane...and when he got to her again...she saw him like a monster- they argued- she hid her relationship with Shane, she hid the pregnancy, she hid the attempt abortion- she hid all that. Rick kept searching why- why did she feel she had to hide it all from him? Was he that bad? Wasn't he clear enough every time he showed he would support her? Was he a bad husband?
Then he distanced- he felt so bad- and for months, he was cold to his pregnant wife- he felt so guilty. It hurt so much- he hated himself.
He had been so upset, he had thought they would have more time- he had finally started to heal, to approach Lori again...
Then...she died- during childbirth- a child that wasn't even his, a child he was so confused about- a child he had claimed- practically stolen from Shane- who he had killed....he had killed...murdered in cold blood, stabbed to death.
Desperation started to hit him.
She died while being open by a knife, she died with pain, in front of Carl, killed by Carl...and to make things worse, her body had been violated by a walker- eaten until literally, the last strand her hair.
The images kept repeating in his mind- the remains he had seen, the marks, the bullet that executed Lori, which he still kept in his pocket.
His thoughts weren't organized anymore- they were just fragments, running over each other, incomplete and painful. Existing was hurting, the agony surpassing what his physical thin body could sustain. Hearing those words...that he was alone in the world....
He felt alone. Absolutely alone. Despite surrounded by people, everyone and everything seemed so distant- everyone just demanded things...and demanded....and demanded...and he wasn't enough...ever...never...no matter what he did....it was never enough.
Rick just wanted it to end- but no matter how many walkers he killed inside the prison, how many blocks he cleared...it was never enough- Judith's constant crying seemed ever present in his head, strong hearing hallucination....it was how it started- and then he began seeing things...he was going mad, he knew...
At some point it became hard to differ- what was real, what was an intrusive thought, what was hallucination, what was a memory, what was imagination- his mind simulating movies of things he didn't see, projecting the images to the front of his eyes, into a reality he knew that wasn't there.
Fox, there, standing in front of him, was she real? Or was she just his imagination? His madness? Making him feel more guilty? Was she another image that would suddenly turn into a walker? Rick kept staring her from time to time, checking if she was still there- thoughts far away, lost in a maelstrom of incomplete rationing. Madness- that was how it felt like- a constant agony inside his head, absolute tension and a strong pain of guilt and fear inside his chest. He was lost inside his own mind, suffocating in an endless dark ocean, unaware where was up, down, left or right, clueless where to swim- crushing heavy waters of despair violating his lungs, making him sink in madness.
"Fox?"
@vuulpecula
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@abyssmalice ➤ unprompted
(a story for the god of hugs? very well, tol toni will do her best - !)
“Let’s see.” She hums, her one eye closing in thought for a moment. “How about... yes. Shall I tell you the story of the king and the deodar god? Once upon a time, in an era that was and wasn’t, there was a king who lived in a land of great verdure and wisdom.
“One day, this king wished to repair his palace. However, rather than mere maintenance, he resolved to rebuild it better and grander. Thus, he ordered his advisors to seek a type of tree that would satisfy his great requirements. These advisors searched high and low, scattering themselves across the distant boundaries of the land, and brought many a kind of tree to the king’s attention.
“However, despite this, despite the vast forests and splendid greenery surrounding his kingdom to the horizon and beyond - the king could not be satisfied. Not until one maidservant, from a distant village, made mention of a great tree that her hometown worshipped.
‘”It is a tree that has stood tall and beautiful for generations upon generations,’ so said the maidservant in passing, ‘thus do we worship it, for no doubt, it bears the wisdom of a god within it.’
“Piqued by this, the king thus set forth to the servant’s village. There, he beheld a most magnificent tree - a deodar of great age, standing far above even the tallest house in the village. Its branches numbered in the thousands, and upon the boughs, its dark pines stretched out into a gentle canopy. The king was enthralled by such a wonderful tree. And so, he demanded to have it cut down for his palace.
“The villagers protested, of course. For it was an ancient tree, their divine protector and patron - how could they allow it to be cut down? The king could argue his point as much as he wished, but they would not acquiesce to such an order, even from their sovereign.
“This continued for many a day, with a simmering bitterness as negotiations continued to fail. After one such failure, the frustrated king retired for the day, deciding he shall ruminate on his options and find another way to persuade them. It was that night, as he dreamt, that the divinity of the deodar spoke to him -
‘”O’ ye lord, child of man and knowledge. I do not berate your ambition, for humanity is fated to surpass the gods themselves. However, know this - an ambition is a spark to a fire, and all fires require timber. O’ ye lord, child of man and knowledge but not wisdom—do you wish for your home and all within to burn?’
“Awakening from this dream, the king was certainly frightened. And yet, as he allowed the god’s words to settle, he was humbled by the wise words of the divine tree. Thus, he returned to the village and declared that he would no longer seek the wood of the divine deodar, apologizing for wasting his people’s time in such a frivolous manner.
“He returned to the capitol, and decided instead to rebuild his palace with stone instead of wood, refocusing on his duties as a wise king.” Tonia claps her hand. “And his reign was considered a golden age for that era. The end.”
Eyebrows raised a little as Tonia began recalling a story that they had so explicitly asked for, chin coming to rest in their palm and eyes half-lidded as they so quietly listened without a peep or chime.
They’d be lying if they didn’t say that something resonated deep within them ... memories of the past, of verdant forests, of people who thought themselves above the eyes of the gods ... people had very much tried the same with the hybrid Irminsul that one decorated the Sumerian lands. For research, for some superstition, for its properties ... those humble would receive, those with an ambition to spark a flame, well ... a 13-foot talking deer does often dissuade most people from going through with that blaze.
It took them a little while before they spoke again, starting off with a low rumble and settling into a fond sigh. “I almost feel like this was targeted to me ... a wise deity in a tree? Having to keep outside humans away from taking too much? ... hopefully he didn’t come across a talking stone as well that was worshipped.”
Terrible joke, but they couldn’t help but to heartily cackle for a moment—hard not to when being a creature of the elements and knowing that everything could have a life tied to it. Their laughter eventually died down into another content sigh, straightening up from their rested position.
“... a good story to be passed down, that is for sure. Perhaps I will tuck that into my memory as a little story to share with others as well, even if only by mouth.” Even if it was never to exist in written word ... even one person recalling it will bring it back to life, once more.
#[ sylvie vc: i came out to have a good time and i did but also was attacked ]#SYLVIE // ANSWERED.#OOC // WAITING FOR QUEUE.#abyssmalice
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Could you do a new and more detailed one? Thanks for it!!
Hello, this ask is referring to the reading about Pedro’s type that I suggested I could do a new one in a post from earlier this week:
So, I asked again what would be his type, in terms of personality traits, regardless of gender. The first 3 cards were 4 of Flowers, 6 of Hedgehogs and 2 of Spears reversed. So 4 of Flowers represents harmony and stability at home, with family and friends. People who would most likely love to organize family reunions, housewarming parties, people who like to enjoy time with their loved ones. 6 of Hedgehogs is about generosity, so he would be attracted to generous people, who can share what they have with others, be it material resources, knowledge, time or attention. 2 of Spears reversed is interesting because it points to people who might be willing to disagree with him, who can argue and think different, but also not really pretentious, but people who can recognize the conflicts and never be 100% sure or certain of anything, people who can see contradictions and be contradicting too sometimes.
The next cards were 7 of Flowers, Ace of Teacups reversed and The Tower. 7 of Flowers is pointing to someone who will not back down when facing challenges or rivalry. They will keep their shoulders squared and hold their ground and defend themselves. Ace of Teacups reversed might be pointing to emotionally imbalanced people, who get either too carried away with their feelings or bottle them up. Someone who will be intense one way or another. The Tower is reminiscent of that first reading, and it shows people who will be willing to let it all burn down, to allow complete destruction to happen in order to start something new, to reinvent themselves, and who will understand that sometimes life does require some complete resets.
The last cards were The Star, The Fool and The World reversed. Besides being able to deal with destruction, this person will also be full of hopes and dreams, they will have goals and believe they can achieve them. The Fool is the one that will go on the new journey with the eagerness of a child, the one that will jump on the new opportunities and be ready for the new adventures. The World reversed shows this person will also not have it all figured out, though. They will be people who are still fighting to reach their goals and who do not think they are done yet, but rather still have "work to do" in their lives.
I then asked my Oracle of Delphi for Pedro's type and the first cards were The Star (consistency is so beautiful!), Indiscretion and Intuition. The Star is like the Tarot card with the same name, and it’s about hope and faith that everything will work out, and being positive about things. Indiscretion might be referring to people who know how to be lowkey, in order to avoid unnecessary talking, people who know how to take care of their private lives and be prudent and discreet. And Intuition points to him liking people who are intuitive and sensitive, who can perceive the nuances of every situation and who can use discernment.
The last cards were Temptation, Material Well Being and The Crowning. Temptation is about giving in to desire, not holding back when it shows up, whether it’s an unexpected romantic involvement or eating your favorite candies for breakfast if you want, intense people who will give in to desire might be very attractive to him. Material Well Being could be pointing to living your best life, to being prosperous, economically balanced, and for pursuing that. The Crowning is the moment where you conquer your fears and surpasses the obstacles in life and you know how to enjoy this moment with everything you’ve got.
So basically these are personality traits that might attract him. Let me know what you think!!
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10, 13, 18
10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?
It's been a while (my b) but I think I answered this. Short answer: Metamorphosis by Kafka. It was something that I found incredibly thought provoking.
As for my own writing, I think also yes, though it will come and go. I have one OC story that has never left my brain and I think about it often and that's a very different kind of haunting. There's also been specific lines or bits of self ship writing where I really felt like I got the. I got it. My character fits into the canon and there's an emotional moment that they create.
13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?
When I write about traumatic events I write around them. Writing the event itself would be...really difficult most of the time. This is almost a cop out answer because I think writing around it can be more powerful than writing the thing in question as it lets the reader fill in the gaps over time. Paints a picture by painting details around an empty space.
Easy is angst. Angst comes pretty naturally to me fkjdshafkjsa I like hurt comfort and I know what I like very well and so I can write it pretty effectively!!!
18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.
From my second tdp SI:
"You were the /Prodigal Child/, Wendy! You were expected to become a powerful High Mage in your own right!" For a moment, he stammered. "And yet you're a lowly assistant? You should at least be my apprentice!"
"I was, yes. Though I preferred the title 'Crystalline Angel' to /that/. I'd certainly be happy with that promotion." She replied flatly, with a sigh. She nudged the scroll with her finger and it unfurled. As she expected, her formal graduation records, a certification of her skill she had not needed.
"So why?" Viren prodded again, expectant, exasperation creeping into his voice.
"Why does it matter?" Wendy asked, clenching her fists, grabbing the fabric of her pants.
"Why does it- you would /surpass me/ if you continued. And your work- we were all eager to see what would come of your work-"
"I don't practice dark magic anymore. End of story." She got to her feet, rolling the scroll up again, closing it tightly with the leather band and shoving it at Viren. He grabbed it on reflex, looking stunned.
This is going to be a reflection on tdp SIs actually, as I was thinking about it last night. The entire purpose for trying to remake and redo my SI was because the original one felt too passive, and too subservient (back in 2020, at least). This new SI, and thus the parts the writing I did for her focused on, is intended to be much better able to actually stand up to Viren. She is many things Viren is not - a prodigy (as opposed to Viren working very hard to get to where he is without such innate talent) and opposed to dark magic despite being so good at it. This creates very natural conflict between them. She knows enough to be able to argue effectively and to meet him on his level, and still disagrees with him.
Her entire deal is that she came up with an entire style of magic on her own - using dark magic to make what she calls "primal crystals" which act as primal sources, but they aren't as powerful and can be used up. Putting the energy into the crystals is what uses dark magic - casting a spell via the crystal is more like casting with a primal source. She never published her works, destroyed all evidence of the process, though she retains some crystals that she had already created in case of emergencies.
And this conflict really gets at the root of their disagreement - Viren wants to know everything, and she wants to forget this title that was forced on her. And Viren sees talent and she sees danger of corruption. They're at odds.
The original SI I made for tdp, who I do plan to stick with after all, is naturally good at dark magic but was never properly schooled, and stopped using it after a traumatic event. So also sort of by choice, but not really as conscientiously as new SI, who chooses to stop due to the long term consequences. Original SI is taken in by Viren's talents, and frankly led by the nose in regards to dark magic by him, because she is absolutely primed to trust him and see him as very knowledgable on the subject. So new SI was intended to be the counter to that, which is how we end up here. Also because it's fun to have an SI who is good at stuff!
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Honesty is the best policy.
My darling girl,
I am one proud person. I know, Pride & Prejudice is no accident.
I pride myself in many things, many of which are personal accomplishments registered inside my heart – the moment I got to surpass certain fears, or that heartwarming compliment someone has given me. One of the things I’m good, but not excellent at, is being honest. I tend to hide and disguise a lot, I tend to use a façade with those who know me well. I love people to the extent that I never want them to worry, which is why being honest about difficulties and negative parts of my life is hard.
I intend to stop that part of my functioning; I want to acknowledge humanity and celebrate overcoming our own personal hells. As a way to achieve that, I’m beginning to be more honest with myself and others. I want you to know people are fragile, they break, me included. I never want you to feel like you can’t have bad moments or that you can’t talk about them, to me or anyone else. Transparency is something my parents taught me and I intend on keeping the lesson.
I’ve been learning about this healing process, which starts with the following list of questions and problems:
(Don't get me wrong, they remain unanswered but they're helping me think!)
Intrusive thoughts: I noticed I tend to overthink, not only to overthink but to do it through a negative lens. I’m a positivist who has very degrading and self-loathing thoughts. Some people say I have abandonment issues because I abandon myself repeatedly. Can’t say they’re wrong there… There are also self-esteem and core-centered beliefs I know were constructed and related to my inner child. Those thoughts are becoming a bigger impairment with time, there are days they completely take over. Those are the days I self-isolate the most, avoiding anyone who can see through me and simultaneously wishing someone would. I’ve been having good conversations that have sort of helped me in this, with myself and with others like me (psychologists). It’s no news that I’m not the most confident girl in the world, but lately, that has become a problem. Some argue that it’s because I don’t love myself – I’m not sure about this. I like myself but I do not protect myself. A friend told me I need to be cognitively aware; I already know that it doesn’t make them go away. It only kills them after they’ve arrived and has set my mood into a darker tone.
How someone treats you Vs. how you feel about them: this was only a random memo I thought about. I ‘over-love’, according to my mom. I know selfishness isn’t my strength. I’m starting to wonder if it ever will be.
What is going to help on the long hall? What wrongful choices am I making that harm my development? I know I succumb to momentary wimps and wishes. I can’t say no when pleasure presents itself on a platter. I can’t say no to emotional satisfaction. I’m a whore for emotional passion and psychological love. How the fuck do I get out of this? I’m addicted to that belly-aching feeling, the pitch burning on your throat whenever you look into someone’s eyes and wish they kiss the living daylights out of you. How do you turn your back to the possibility of feeling your heart pacing as if it’s rushing home?
Maybe I should remember number 2 here, maybe that’s a pretty good strategy.
4. How does one heal?
5. What are my expectations and what is the reality of them? I had a fairytale life, in my perception of it at least. I guess I grew up wishing people would be like an enchanted character from a Disney movie, the perfect guy, the ‘out of this world’ friend. People aren’t fictional, they will never care and live according to this stupid idea of enchantment, I realize that now. This doesn’t mean I’ll lower rushed expectations, but I’ll think about them and I’ll try and be more aware of it.
6. What they say vs. what they do. I guess this one speaks for itself. It’s more of a mental note. Maybe I should tattoo it, on my forehead. I keep forgetting this until he proves me wrong and reminds me, I need to have this imprinted on my heart.
My beautiful baby girl, this bond I decided to create with you should never be an obligation or something you perceive as scary. You don’t even need to read this garbage, I thought it might help, if it doesn’t, I’m pretty sure we have a paper shredder somewhere.
Love,
Mom, September 22th 2023
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Text
Healing
pairing: Azriel x reader (acotar)
warnings: TW - sexual assault, rape, objectification and implications of abuse, smut, consensual sex, azriel is a sweetie and rhys is a good bestie
a/n: first of all PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!! i’m really proud of this fic but I don’t want to trigger or upset anyone, that being said it isn’t too graphic but still. Anyway I hope u enjoy, this took me three days lmao <333
based on: this and this
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You had your first less than savoury encounter with men when you had barely turned nine. Your body still hadn’t finished forming, but you were growing, and your body was gaining some semblance of shape as you did. It wasn’t much – just a whistle from across the street – but for a second your heart seized up with fear, and in the next you almost felt giddy. A man thought you were beautiful.
You felt like a princess that day – felt the way you had when the boy from your class had kissed your cheek, still too young to process the intentions behind that single whistle. But you didn’t care – someone wanted you.
When you got your first period at twelve – even more changed. Your body felt new, and you didn’t feel comfortable in the changes. Your old clothes didn’t fit and now your mother forced you into tighter corsets for those long, long dinners you had to attend. Your parents were respected Fae in the Hewn City – nobles who liked to drink and smoke and throw extravagant balls. And with your new body you could no longer simply hide in the corner or climb through secret passages with your friends – muddying your dresses.
Now you had to smile when men hugged you slightly too long, laugh when they commented on how much you had grown up, sit pretty and pristine with an old mans hand loitering to close to your rear for hours as you watched your parents drink away their troubles.
By the time you were fifteen you were used to the constant attention, your beauty not uncommon where you lived but still doted on often. Unaware of their desire for your youth, your naivety. The women never offering a helping hand but instead glaring down high skewed noses as their husbands slurred into your ears – still in shock that a pretty, young thing like you was all alone at this party.
When you were sixteen you decided to change that – kissing an alright looking boy at a party and telling him exactly what he wanted to hear so he would kiss you back. He stayed when you didn’t protest as he pulled you to the bathroom and pushed you to your knees. And for this small request, the greasy hands on your body at balls and dinners or any other social gathering halved – now only the truly self-righteous felt they could touch you still.
The only problem was you truly did love the boy you had chosen. He had faults yes, but he was kind – he brought you flowers and kissed your cheek. But he also spoke over you, forced you into silence and took what he wanted. And he always wanted the same thing.
If anything it was his father’s fault. The military commander never leaving room for debate when he argues with his wife – and sons only become what they see in their fathers.
Your father had left with a younger woman a few months after your fourteenth birthday, and you hadn’t seen him since – only heard stories of him galivanting around the autumn court from your classmates. You could see the distaste your mum held you in as she realised she would have to stick around to look after you, not yet old enough to be married. Then Amarantha had taken hold of the country and that possibility had been thrown out the window anyway.
Weirdly enough not that much changed in your life when she took power, the only major difference was that now you had to block out screams before going to sleep and even they had become like white noise. You still drank with your friends on Friday nights, went out with your boyfriend on Saturdays and slept the pain away on Sundays. Your weekdays consisted of school, dinners, balls and whatever more your mother could throw together to appease the high queen.
That and the high lord of the night court had started making appearances at the events your mother threw. He was a cruel man standing so proudly at the queen’s side – but you saw something flickering in his eyes whenever people spoke, complimenting his power and rule. You saw what you felt as you laughed at compliments and lingering touches – you saw pain, but more importantly you saw anger. And right now you could use anger.
During one ball you watched him leave, taking an odd route – not the one that would help him escape the loud music but instead a long winding corridor leading to a series of smaller rooms. Without thought you peeled away from your company, muttering excuses and went after him – grabbing a bottle of wine as you did.
You found him reclining in an empty room and knocked on the door gently. He cracked open an eye – slow like a cat – and beckoned you in. You moved to perch next to him, leaning back with a straight back and letting your head loll slightly as you took a swig of the dark red wine, before passing him the bottle.
“You looked like you could use a drink,” you smiled, eyes focused on his sharp jaw as he held the bottle to his mouth with a laugh.
“One way of putting it,” he smiled. The two of you sat in silence for several minutes as you took in his beauty, his looks plus mannerisms all made him seem like a wild cat - a panther trapped underground.
“Why are you here?” he finally asked, and you raised a hand to trace that sharp jaw. But instead of devouring you as any lesser man would’ve, he brushed your hand away and held it tightly in his larger one. “That’s not gonna happen, you’re what sixteen?”
“Almost seventeen,” you said, cheekily. He laughed but shook his head, squeezing your hand before releasing it.
“You’re still a child,” he said matter-of-factly, and you scoffed, stealing your wine back to drink again.
“Yeah well that’s usually a selling point,” your voice was sad, but you didn’t dare let your eyes stray from his – refusing to show fear, “And you’re so nice to me, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
He laughed as you pouted, “You practice this in the mirror or something?”
“Usually works in three seconds,” you confess, and he whistles under his breath, “Men are rather easy to manipulate when they’ve been trying to get into your skirts since your first bleed.”
“And you wonder why I’m not about to take advantage of you,” he laughed, and you smiled – a real smile, or real enough. “Plus I don’t think your little boyfriend would be pleased.”
“Eh, he’s never pleased - I don’t think this could make him worse.” Rhysand took the wine back and frowned.
“Does he hurt you?” his voice was sincere but the laugh you let out was not.
“Don’t all men,” he swore, and you laughed again, “Yet you foil my plan to make you fall in love with me and whisk me away to the moon.”
He laughed, but his eyes darkened with deep sadness you were sure you would never understand, “I think we both no that even I could not do that, but I might be able to crush your fly.”
“Little boyfriend? Fly? You really don’t like him do you?” you laughed, head lighter already.
“I don’t like any man who thinks they can hurt women,” he said, frowning when he realised through your passing back and forth there was no wine left.
“Shit that took us like five minutes,” you complained, and he laughed, waving his hand lightly as several more bottles appeared before you – you grinned as you grabbed another.
“So any friends with weaker moral backbones that I could marry?” you asked with a laugh, and he smiled at you.
“I’m sure I could find someone,” he leaned back again. You smiled – finally happy that one night might pass in the company of a decent man.
Soon, you’d find it would be more than one night, a close friendship quickly blossoming between you and the high lord. All your friends were convinced you were sleeping together but true to his word he didn’t touch you, and by the time you surpassed the age of eighteen you didn’t want him to. But that didn’t stop other men.
After a particularly bad argument with your boyfriend that had left you with a handprint on your left cheek you had broken up with him – sending away his apologies and flowers, smart enough to see he didn’t hold the mental capacity to change.
Plus you were beautiful and young, you could certainly do better. And you soon did – rich men who liked to buy you jewellery, and fine clothes, men who enjoyed literature and art and spending time with you.
And at the start of each relationship, for a few blissful seconds you would believe in their pure intentions. But then a hand would drift from your lower back to your ass, or the gentle kiss that followed a necklace would shift from your mouth to your breasts. Not one of them wanted to wait until you were comfortable, so you made yourself comfortable.
You pictured pretty, strong men were holding you down and making you feel something, slipping your own hand between your legs and they penetrated you to try and replicate what you were sure a lover’s touch must feel like. And as always – after the first time- they stopped asking for permission, you were their toy, so you no longer had choice over that part of yourself.
But through nice guys and bad boys, for fifty years you had Rhysand who was a friend – who treated you with respect and finally let you talk, let you breathe.
In the end he was the one who found you, in the backroom of a party – drunk and undressed. You were weeping, curled in a ball with your attackers’ seed dripping out of you, bruises decorating your bare skin. When he turned you over with his comforting hands he found your nose dripping red and the vibrant lipstick you wore smudged.
He helped you sit up and redress, took you home and stood outside the bathroom while you scrubbed yourself clean in scalding water – still unsteady on your feet. You changed into a nightgown silently and neither of you said a word when you crawled into bed next to each other, crying in your best friends’ arms as he tried to console you.
When you woke up, he was gone with just a scribbled message about Amarantha and the name of a healer he trusted. But you just placed it back down, turning onto your back and staring at the ceiling as hot tears ran into your hairline.
You barely ate anything for the days following your assault – fighting with your mother more when you rarely saw her and subsequently breaking it off with your current boyfriend. You had thrown his hands off you when he tried to touch you and the screaming match that followed ended your relationship.
Your bond with Rhysand grew only closer however as you spent nights drinking in candlelight, talking about anything and everything until you were sure he knew every inch of your soul and you his.
“You know what I’m going to do as soon as she’s gone,” you whispered one night as you stared at the twinkling lights you had hung on your bedroom roof to imitate stars.
“What?” Rhys had asked, never letting his eyes leave the ‘stars’ which he had laughed at and then proceeded to rearrange to make them more accurate. To which you threw a pillow at his head.
“Find a hill, or a pier, or a large pit or anything and scream into it until my throat bleeds.” You said and he laughed, the bed beneath you rumbling.
“Consider me on board.” He joked as you sat up to perch at your vanity – smudging the sharp eyeliner you wore with a small brush and applying some red lipstick.
“Wanna go out?” you asked him, and he sat up to with a small, sad smile.
“Can’t.” you understood his implication and frowned.
“I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t gutted me yet,” you tried to lighten the mood, but his face darkened slightly when he joked back.
“Oh she wants to, I’m telling her any information you give me about citizens, so she doesn’t.” He said, ruffling your hair as he stood to leave.
“That’s fair, I’ll keep an ear out,” you smiled, squeezing his hand gently before he left.
Things changed when Feyre Archeron appeared, you saw the way your friend watched her and realised you might be competing for his attention soon, but you were happy for him. Until he brought her to that first party – drugged and barely dressed. You felt the bile rise in your throat as you pushed down memories of yourself in such a similar position, and while you knew he would never hurt her – he was still a man. And you were foolish to believe for all those years that he was a man who would realise this was wrong.
Making polite excuses you left the party, picking up the tails of your dress as you all but raced home – ditching the dress and closing the blinds tightly as you made yourself food in your underwear. The sick feeling in your throat spreading through your chest and stomach as you ate, abandoning your meal halfway for a book and large sweater. And when he knocked on your door that night, desperate to tell you all about her – all about the human girl who he was sure could be his mate, you pretended to be asleep.
You barely spoke to him the whole time she was there, unable to look him in the eyes when she was so clearly out of it – and the feeling only grew when the next morning she would have all eyes on her. You understood that feeling. You instead spent parties flirting with Tarquin, the young high lord who was only a few years your senior or warding off marriage invitations with laughs and carefully placed words.
Rhys would sometimes catch your eyes – furrowing his eyebrows at you when you avoided his gaze, the sick feeling never really leaving. But it wasn’t until you watched Tamlin slay Amarantha with a smile that he tried to speak to you again. Feyre was Fae and leaving with her betrothed and Rhysand had just confirmed they were mates – and never had he needed his best friend quiet like he did now.
You were sitting when he found you, head in your palms and blood dusting the skirts of your dress. You had been sitting near Amarantha when it happened. You looked up when he neared, smiling sadly as he sat next to you.
“Want to go home?” he asked you quietly and you scoffed, standing, and moving to leave quickly. He followed after you, grabbing your arm as you wrenched it out of his grip with more ferocity than he had ever seen from you.
“Don’t touch me,” he held his hands up, backing away to give you space as you got your breathing under control.
“What did I do?” he asked – smart enough to not presume anything.
“How could you think it was okay, after what happened?” your voice was quiet again, and so sad.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he implored, stepping slightly closer again. You raised your eyes to meet his and he understood, the darkness you carried in your eyes shining through – the memories that resurfaced in those dark moments. “I’m sorry, let me explain please.”
You let him hold your arm softly as he winnowed the two of you to your house where you sat down heavy and tired.
“I did it because she needed out of that cell, but I saw what they did to you and you’re a fae woman, she’s… she was human. So it meant that no one else would touch her.” He tried to explain, “And she wouldn’t want to remember.”
“That’s a horrible thing to do Rhys.” You stated and he hung his head low, “How in anyway was that helping her, to get her out you could’ve snuck her here or just take her to a ball and let her dress normally.”
“I’m sorry, I just knew this would’ve been the safest option,” he grabbed your hand again and squeezed it like he did all those years ago, “It’s over, we can go home.”
“I am home,” you laughed bitterly, gesturing to your house.
“No, you’re coming out of this city – we’re putting it behind us.” He stood and held out a hand.
“I know you’re trying to be dramatic and all, but I have to pack – and think.” You said and he laughed.
“Take your time,” he said, sitting back to wait for you, “And I know it might take you a while to forgive me, but I’ll wait.”
You had left soon after, as he revealed his city to you. Winnowing to a house where two beautiful women stood at the door, strong winged men appearing next to them almost instantly – all sharing the same tear-eyed look. Well, all asides from a short, dark-haired woman who simply smiled.
The men you presumed were Azriel and Cassian barrelled towards Rhysand, attacking him in the most violent hug you had ever witnessed. Mor followed soon after and Amren simply offered him a curt nod, to which he bowed slightly with a cheeky smile.
Cassian turned to look at you and everyone followed suit, you straightened up – not wanting to cower under their gazes.
“And this, this is (y/n).” Rhysand said, placing a hand on your elbow, “She’s the only reason I survived under the mountain.”
You smiled at him, annoyed still – but you still held so much love for him in your heart. You looked away when Cassian approached and wrapped you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground slightly.
When he released you he looked you dead in the eye, “I am forever in your service.”
“Cassian let go of the poor girl,” Mor exclaimed behind him, and you giggled, looking to Rhys for support.
“Forgot to tell you he’s a hugger,” he shrugged, and you shoved his shoulder.
“Oh did you!” you laughed.
“Gotta get used to it, you’re part of the team now,” Cassian slung an arm around your shoulder as he guided you inside, “which means lots of hugs and long talks about emotions.”
“Don’t steal my best friend Cassian,” Rhys jabbed at his brother as you all moved to sit inside around a long table.
“He already had I’m afraid, can’t reverse love like ours,” you joined in, patting Cassian’s hand as he punched the air in victory, Rhysand feigning pain as he dramatically collapsed into his chair – a hand over his heart.
When you were finally seated you caught Azriel’s gaze, his eyes locked on you – having watched you interact with his family for less than five minutes and already completely enamoured. You smiled softly when you caught his gaze and he grinned at you, no words passing.
Later that evening – after too many drinks, you found yourself alone on a balcony you found, drinking in the fresh air greedily after all those years underground. You didn’t realise he was there until he was next to you – silent on his feet, his shadows a cool chill passing over your shoulders.
You tilted your head to look at him, in awe of his beauty. Not even Rhysand had awed you as much as this man was, his beauty unparalleled by anyone you had met before. He turned his gaze down to you as well, fighting the urge to reach out and touch you as he watched you move with such elegant curiosity.
“We haven’t had the pleasure of being formally introduced,” you smiled, lifting your hand delicately, “I’m (y/n).”
He met your hand halfway, lifting it to his mouth with perfectly poised and trained grace. “Azriel,” his voice was deep, gruff – and sent chills through you quickly. But when he moved your hand from his mouth you held on, the sparks flowing through you telling you all you needed to know. He similarly made no move to let go.
“Are we? I don’t really know how any of this works,” you laughed nervously but he smiled so warmly and tugged you slightly closer to him with the hand you were still clutching.
“You’re my mate princess,” he said, voice rough from disuse. You smiled widely, eyes forming tears as your gaze never strayed from him – finally getting one person who would truly love you, not your body – but you. He tugged your hand gently and you followed him inside, smiling and love drunk.
“We should probably go to the house of wind,” his voice was quiet as you furrowed your eyebrows at him.
“Me and Cassian have to share a room here, the bed are singles.” You smiled and laughed – irrevocably happy.
“Yeah maybe not,” you said, and he held your hand softly as he walked you to the front door, passed his past out friends, Rhys cracking an eye open when you walked past him, and you turned when he tugged your skirt gently.
You okay? He asked in your mind, and you smiled at him.
I’m perfect, why? You replied as he closed his eyes again, clearly too tired to hold them open - Azriel moving to retrieve your coats.
Just don’t feel pressured into doing anything you’re not ready for, Azriel is understanding he won’t get angry. A sort of cold feeling settled on your shoulders when you realised why Azriel wanted that extra privacy.
Shit forgot I had to do that you joked but Rhysand felt the stress growing, however before he could reply Azriel was by your side again and you were waving him goodbye, your smile tight lipped.
Honestly, you trusted Rhysand when he said that Azriel would understand – but so far you had yet to meet a man who truly respected the boundaries you set, a man who would truly wait. Azriel met your eyes in silent questions before scooping you into his arms, flying high above the house as you squealed in his arms, clinging tightly to his neck, and shutting your eyes tightly as you soared above the vibrant city.
He felt you tense as you neared the house, swooping lower in order to land on the large balcony attached to his room. He placed you on shaky legs gently and looked down to smile at you again – heart so full of love and peace.
Not only was his brother returned to him in one piece, but along beside him came you. His mate. His mate.
You caught his gaze and gave him a tight-lipped smile, terrified for history to repeat itself. You wanted to talk to him and know him – you didn’t want him to learn to love your body instead of you. And you were truly afraid to be touched again, you hadn’t been with a man since you were raped – fear stopping you before they could get close and walls slamming up if they tried.
“Are you okay?” Azriel’s voice was dripping with concern – genuine concern, and the way he said it made tears well up in your eyes. His own instantly widened as he sensed the sadness and fear rolling of you in waves, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you sobbed into his chest. “Oh sweetheart we don’t have to do anything, c’mon lets go sit down.”
He guided you through the glass doors and sat you down gently on the bed, holding you gently and coaxing you through your breakdown. Once your breathing had calmed slightly and you had pulled out of his embrace, wiping your tears harshly with the butt of your hand.
“I’m sorry,” you muttered quietly, terrified to anger your mate when you’ve only just found him.
“It’s okay darling, what’s wrong – did I do something? You’re not terrified of heights are you?” he asked, and you laughed softly, a smile growing on his face as his worries eased slightly.
“No, that was fun,” he grabbed your hand in his scarred ones and you gripped it tightly.
“Then what was it?” you looked into those beautiful, worried eyes and let out an exhale – bottom lip quivering.
“I just don’t think I can – I can’t do that tonight.” You whispered the words lowly, afraid of his reaction as you clung like a child to his hand.
“Hey, that’s okay – we don’t have to do anything until you’re ready,” he smiled, worries easing. You still wanted to be with him, just not in that way yet – and he could wait. He would wait a million years if you asked.
“Even if I’m not ready for a while?” You asked, and he held your face in his hands gently – looking into your tear-filled, defeated eyes.
“I would wait forever and then some – I have already waited so long to meet you, I’m sure I can last longer, especially if you’re next to me.” Your smile was so sad when you met his eyes.
“I’ve been told that before,” Azriel just pulled you closer to him with a cheeky grin.
“And were any of them your mate?”
“No,” you smiled at him again and he thought his heart was going to combust.
“Well then, I love to prove people wrong.” You buried your head into his chest as his arms came around you once more, “Would you like to sleep here, or would you like your own room?”
“Here is fine, I like the way you make me feel,” you said quietly, tugging on the bond experimentally. Azriel just smiled and tugged back.
“That works for me, I’ll get you a change of clothes.” He moved to stand but you stopped him – tugging on the dress shirt he wore.
“I want this,” you grinned cheekily up at him, and he laughed, but undid the buttons and pulled it off anyway – turning around to let you change in peace. When he turned back around you were looking up at him with wide eyes – looking impossibly cute in his shirt.
“It has holes in the back,” you complained, and he laughed, sitting down to tug off his trousers before sliding under the covers as you scrambled to lay in his arms.
“Well I do have wings,” he cemented his point by letting one drape over your shoulders as you sighed in content.
“Really, I hadn’t noticed,” you deadpanned quietly, burrowed deep under his arms and the covers. His chest rumbled with the silent laugh as he pressed a kiss into your hairline.
The next morning he awoke to you laying on his chest, tracing the scars on the backs of his hands with a delicately pointed finger. He stared in wonder, and you must have felt his gaze because you turned your head to meet his eyes, face still puffy from sleep. As you whispered to him that morning, your chin resting on his chest as you gazed up at him until he rose to get your morning drinks. Barely daring to leave for more than a few seconds. And when he returned he was so glad he did – welcoming the sight of you curled up under his sheets with a shy smile and tired eyes.
“Do we have to do anything today?” you asked as you sipped your drink slowly, Azriel’s’ arm tight and secure around your waist.
“Nope,” he said, delighted at the prospect, “I just want to be with you and my family.”
“Sounds heavenly.”
True to his word, for the next few weeks that past, you and Azriel didn’t progress past slow, occasional kisses and lingering touches. But before either of those he was always searching your eyes – asking permission. And you truly fell in love with him during those weeks.
He was caring and consistent – never promising anything he couldn’t bring. And he cared for you, he cared for you past your body and looks. He wanted to be with you for an eternity.
One night, while you lay together, speaking lowly and listening to the rain fall outside your room – a glass door cracked open, you decided you were ready. You pressed closer to him, your lips meeting his own in a kiss more passionate than you had previously shared.
He followed your lead with just as much passion, but when you crawled into his lap he pulled away slightly.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you,” he asked quietly, hands coming to rest on your hips.
“I’m sure, I love you and I want to be with you.” You told him sincerely, “But I haven’t been with anyone in a few years so I’m a little out of practice.”
You giggled nervously but he furrowed his eyebrows, “But you told me about your boyfriends?”
“Yeah but I – stopped dating about five years ago.” You tried to explain quickly, old nerves being brought up, but Azriel pulled you closer and as always his touch calmed you.
“Can I ask why?” he watched you drop your head a little as you breathed slowly – determined to not let your fear rise, you would probably end up telling him anyway so you might as well get it over with.
“I was raped.” You stated and his grip on your hips tightened slightly as he swore.
“Darling, I’m so sorry,” he started but you stopped him with a sharp glaze.
“You don’t need to apologise, it happened and it’s over now.” He could practically feel you pull away, so he loosened his grip on your hips and instead brought his arms up to hold you against his chest.
“Who did it?” he asked, voice dark and dangerous. You muttered a name lowly – under your breath – and he pocketed in the darkest corners of his mind for later. His shadows itching to tear the man apart.
“Look (y/n), if you’re ready I am more than happy to oblige but I need to know you’re really ready, I will wait as long as you need.” You pulled away from his chest and kissed him gently.
“I’m ready, I trust you,” he smiled up at you from where you perched on his lap and you giggled and he flipped you over, laying between your legs with a feral grin.
He made you cum three times with his mouth and those beautiful, beautiful hands alone – more than you had ever experienced with a man and he hadn’t even received any pleasure yet. Except from the pleasure of watching his perfect mate fall apart on his sheets, over and over.
And when he lay over you, your legs pushed up and wrapped around his waist, and his forearms on either side of your head – he would later swear he had never felt more complete.
“I’m here with you remember, will be the whole time.” He assured you, voice soft as he lined himself up and you smiled.
“I love you so much,” you whispered, and he pushed in slowly, filling every part of you and pushing against every spot you didn’t know you had. You swore under your breath when he bottomed out, the slight pain quickly being reduced to please as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck.
“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” you felt shivers run through your body at his gruff voice and smiled, moaning when he began to move.
He pulled his head from where it hid in your neck and watched as you closed your eyes – head thrown back with a smile – and his hips bucked, desperately trying to control himself as he watched you arch your back.
“Shit Az, you’re so big,” you moaned loudly, unaware of the trance you had pulled your mate into.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered with a harsh thrust, a hand coming to stroke down your face as you opened your eyes to meet his, “So perfect.”
You felt as if your heart was going to burst from the love that filled it as you reached up to kiss him softly – conveying every word, every thought, through that kiss. When you pulled away you were nearing your end, the sensations building in you without the need of a fantasy or your own hand.
You moaned his name, gripping his shoulders tightly as one hand instinctively moved to stroke down his wing. He shuddered above you with a loud groan – his thrusts speeding up as he to neared release, yours hips surely bruising from the force of his own.
“C’mon baby, need to feel you, need to know you’re mine.” His words ignited something in your stomach, and you clung tighter to him, kissing his sharp jaw as you smiled.
“I’m yours Azriel, now and forever.” Your gentle words pushed him over the edge and his skilful fingers dipping between your thighs brought you down with him. The two of you crying out at the sensations you shared as a growing need to never let him go consumed you.
He collapsed on top of you soon after and he intertwined your fingers with his own as your breathing evened out. He slipped out of you, and you smiled up at him as he sat up, rolling off your body and laying to the side while you came to rest your head on his firm chest. He brought his spare hand upwards – twirling strands of your hair slightly as you rested in silence. After a few minutes, you clambered into his lap and kissed him firmly as he pulled you impossibly close.
“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, and he felt his heart swell with gratitude to the world for giving him an angel that would willingly hold his hand and guide him out of the darkness.
“I am so in love with you,” he whispered back, and you giggled, a hand moving slowly to stroke him as you felt him harden beneath you again.
“Hmm, is that so?” you whispered.
Azriel, who had started pressing light kisses into your neck, nipped you gently, making you squeal, “What were you saying darling?”
“That I am also deeply, and unequivocally in love with you.” You replied and he rolled his eyes.
“Just putting me to shame with your big words.” He muttered and you giggled – crawling down his body.
“I’m sure I could make it up to you.”
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figure it out {din djarin x reader}
summary: din djarin doesn’t usually get jealous. not until he met you, at least {for the lovely and wonderful @stargazingcarol} - 2.5k words
warnings: swearing
this is completely spoiler free!! just some good old jealousy and some antics with the kid. enjoy.
- jamie
You had a complicated relationship with the Mandalorian.
On one hand, you were colleagues…of sorts. He’d spent two years coming to your outpost on Corellia when he needed his ship fixing – and after becoming fed up of traipsing back and forth, he offered you the job full time. It was a mutually beneficial situation. You’d been desperate to get out the city for years, and you were also the only mechanic he trusted. The prospect of a job that would take you all over the galaxy was exciting, even if it meant tiptoeing around one another in the cramped hull of the Razor Crest (and that was before the addition of the Child). But, when you spent days and days in hyperspace with nobody else to talk to, it was only natural that you became friends. It had felt a little awkward at first, as though you were trying to force conversation with a man who just didn’t want to talk -- but then the Mandalorian’s barriers broke down, and things began to change.
You couldn’t quite pinpoint when. It had probably been a few months in, not long after he’d saved your ass from a bounty who had thrown a punch in your direction. You hadn’t expected the Mandalorian to be so protective - and frankly, neither had he. It was after that he found himself doing things without realising; lingering touches on your back when he passed, his hands brushing your thigh whenever you were sat in the cockpit next to him. Then, you became unintentional adoptive parents to a weird, green creature - a bond between you that only seemed progressed naturally, as though you had no control over it.
One night, not long after you took the Child in, you’d both collapsed beside one another on the tiny bed in hull of the Crest. Usually, you would argue for a while about who got to take it, but on that night, neither of you’d had the energy. Under the covers of the dark and with the baby finally asleep, you were muttering amongst yourself - you couldn’t remember the conversation entirely, but it was sleepy, tired gibberish. Din found himself reaching to take the helmet off; he could hear you easier that way, and your voice was comforting enough to lull him off to sleep. In the quiet of the moment, and with the conversation between you reaching a natural stopping point, he’d gently closed the gap between you. It was simple; his lips on yours, only for a brief moment. Then, as though the Child had sensed that everything was no longer about him, he’d opened his mouth and let out a cry for attention.
You began to kiss more often after that; every night before bed, actually. As soon as the lights were off, Din would take the helmet off, give you a gentle kiss and then he’d drift off, holding you tightly to his chest. It was always that, followed by a good night, cyar'ika. Then the morning would come, and it would be good morning, cyar'ika followed by another soft kiss, before the helmet went back on and you both went about your days.
After a few months of that, you’d fallen into an easy routine. Neither of you had quite established what your relationship was, but it didn’t feel like you needed to. It’s not like there was anyone else around for you to have to worry about, or anyone else who would force you to define it. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t frustrating; Din Djarin had never been the type of person to plan ahead, and you knew that more than anyone. The idea of becoming attached to him, only to lose him or get hurt was enough for you to at least want to try and work it out. You weren’t expecting a deep conversation, or even one that you could walk away from knowing whatever the hell was going on between you two.
It was just that with the addition of the Child, and the two of you growing closer each day, you wanted an answer. You wanted to know if you were wasting your time; if this was simply a pit-stop on your way to finding a more permanent settlement, or if this was it. Though you’d never admit it, you wanted it to be the latter. Din was reliable, and he cared about you. He was sweet in his own way and he’d have gone to the ends of the galaxy to look after you. He was protective in a way that let you fight your own battles, but not in a way you’d ever have to do it alone. You felt safe with him - as though you’d found everything you were looking for, except neither of you had been looking at all.
You brought the question up on a slow morning. The Mandalorian was between bounties, and you’d briefly landed in a dusty outpost on a thick jungle planet to refuel and find some food. The kid was snoring away in his pod a few feet away, clearly feeding off of the relaxed atmosphere that you’d managed to create. You were laying beside him, the lights still off and your head buried in his neck. Both of Din’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, gripping onto you as though you might slip away into the darkness of the vast galaxy.
‘What are we?’ You asked quietly.
‘Humans.’ Right, there was the dry sense of humour.
‘Din.’ You grumbled. ‘I’m serious.’
‘What’s making you bring it up now, cyar'ika?’ He asked. ‘It’s early.’
‘I was just thinking.’ You sat up, pulling the covers with you. ‘We’ve been doing this thing for months but neither of us have actually worked out what the hell is it is.’
‘We don’t have to.’ He replied.
‘Right.’ You murmured.
‘It’s just-’
As though the little bugger had sensed a sudden onset of tenseness in the room, the Child let out a loud cry. You immediately recognised it: he was hungry. Even if you were ready to throttle anyone who dared come near him, you didn’t have a hard time admitting that he had a penchant for the worst timing. With that said, the fact he’d slept through the whole night without waking once certainly helped the fact.
‘Hey, buddy! It’s okay!’ You heard the mechanical click of Din’s helmet as he turned on the lights, allowing you to leap out of bed and stumble to the baby. ‘We’ll get you some food.’
That wasn’t the first time that something had magically changed the subject whenever you tried to bring up the status of your relationship with Din. If the kid didn’t decide to pull your attention away, it was the Mandalorian himself who veered away from the conversation. He always had to check on a bounty, or rush off to see if the ship was on the right route. It didn’t take a genius to work out that he was avoiding the subject entirely and you were starting to become frustrated.
After almost three weeks of trying to challenge him about it, you were close to giving in entirely. What if you were wasting your time? What if you were going to let yourself fall in love with him, only to find out you weren’t a permanent part of his plan? Fuck, did he even have a plan? Was that the life you wanted -
- it was at that point that your train of thought had stopped, because the Child sensed you were upset, and started bawling. Again.
A few hours after your fourth or fifth try at the conversation - once again to have it ended by the kid tossing a frog at you in an attempt to steal the attention back - the three of you ended up in a bar. It was a little cantina a few hours outside of Mos Eisley; it was much cleaner than the other bars you’d seen, and if it weren’t for your foul mood, you might have even enjoyed it.
‘What’s up with you?’ Din asked quietly.
‘Nothing.’ You murmured. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Your tone is off, cyar'ika.’
‘Leave it.’ You snapped. ‘I’m getting another drink.’
You moved the baby off your lap, placing him on Din’s instead. After digging around in your pocket for some credits, you quickly stood up and sauntered over to the other side of the bar, leaning against the wooden counter as you waited for your turn to be served. It wasn’t too busy - there were a few people floating about. Locals, you figured. It was a slightly fancier part of Tatooine, and you could see the difference in the people who were frequenting the establishment.
You were trying not to think about Din, or the fact he still refused to talk about what was going on between the two of you. You’d long surpassed the point of no return for your friendship - no, you were too invested now. Either he had to prove he was in it for the long run, or you had to walk away. Was that an unfair ultimatum? Not really. He’d started it, after all.
‘What’s a pretty thing like you doing waiting for a drink?’
You glanced up to see a man beside you, a half-empty flagon of beer in his hand. He was tall, dark and handsome; the type you used to briefly date back on Corellia. He smelt of expensive aftershave, and his clothes gave the impression he was quite well-off.
‘I could ask you the same.’ You replied.
‘So you think I’m pretty?’ The man quirked an eyebrow at you.
‘No, I...I mean, yeahhhh.’ You turned to face him, offering him a smile.
‘You’re here with that Mandalorian.’ He glanced over his shoulder, before leaning a little closer towards you. ‘What’s his deal?’
‘Honestly, I couldn’t tell you.’ You snorted. ‘I don’t think he knows what his deal is.’
The conversation was completely innocent - after all, you had no intention of anything happening with whoever this guy was. And even if you did, weren’t you technically single? You certainly weren’t in a relationship, at least not according to Din Djarin. He had no standing ground, nor any right to be jealous.
Still, that didn’t stop his entire body filling with rage the minute the man put his hand on your arm, and it certainly didn’t stop him immediately packing up all your stuff to leave the bar. Even the notion of another man touching you made him want to scream - let alone the actual sight of it. It was the way your new friend leant in a little too close, and laughed a little too hard at your jokes. You were funny, but you weren’t that funny.
‘We’re leaving.’ Din declared, suddenly appearing beside you.
‘Okay.’ You shrugged, glancing up at him. ‘I’ll meet you back on the ship later.’
‘No, I mean we’re leaving.’
You snorted. ‘I think you’ll find that I’m staying right here- oof!’
You let out a small squeak as the Mandalorian grabbed you with his free arm, tossing you over his shoulder. Before you could protest, or even apologise to the man beside you, he was marching you out of the bar and into the cool evening air of Tatooine. All meanwhile, the baby was giggling at the site of you with your legs in the air and your face planted against Din’s back.
The ship wasn’t far - probably not more than a two minute walk. Din had been conscious of the Child’s little legs when he’d parked at the outpost; he was becoming more independent now and insisted on walking places himself. It was just that he could only walk for five minutes before getting tired, but the little sod would cry if you tried to carry him. He was lucky he was cute.
‘What the hell was that?’ You snapped, barely catching your balance as Din planed you on the floor of the ship.
‘That man was flirting with you.’ Din simply stated. ‘I didn’t like it.’
‘You...’ you trailed off. ‘You didn’t like it?’
‘He was overstepping his boundaries.’
‘You were jealous, weren’t you?’ You let out a derivative snort, folding your arms across your chest.
‘You knew I could see you.’ Din was still calm.
‘And? It’s not like we’re in a relationship, is it?’ You murmured.
‘That’s not-’
‘ - let me finish!’ You cut him off. ‘I have been trying for weeks to talk to you about it, to see where I stand with you, and you always change the subject or try to run away from it! You have no right to be jealous, or to act like I’m with you because you have made it abundantly clear that I am not. Your high horse is basically a shetland fucking pony, Din Djarin!’
There was a silence between you for a moment. It felt good to have finally said it - you just wished you’d been a bit more gentle. Din had never seen you shout before, or even come close to losing your temper. He knew it was bound to happen but he had never imagined it being at him. Then again, if you’d tried to pick him up and force him out the bar against his will, he would have been angry too. (The thought of you even trying it was rather comical).
‘I was scared.’
That hadn’t been the response you were expecting.
‘Of me?’ Your voice was quiet.
‘I’m in love with you.’ He said bluntly. ‘That terrifies me.’
‘I...fuck.’ You felt as though the wind had been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with whatever grey smoke the Crest spat out when the engines were broken. ‘I love you too - but why does it scare you?’
‘Because it means I can’t ever leave you.’ Din continued. ‘And I want to give you the life you deserve but I don’t know if I can. Not with my job, not with the things I’ve done.’
‘Din.’ You took a step forward, his large hands enveloping yours as you did. ‘D’you think I care about any of that?’
‘I was afraid to ask.’
‘No offence, but you can be a bit thick sometimes.’ A small chuckle escaped your lips, even if tears were forming in your eyes. ‘I don’t care where we are or where we go, as long as I’m with you, then I have the life I want. That’s why I’ve been so off these last few weeks, because I was so scared you were going to turn around and push me away.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’ He said. ‘I’m not going to leave you - you have my word. I promise.’
‘So why don’t we just stop being scared and start just...being together?’
He briefly stepped away, hitting the control panel to turn off the lights in the ship. His helmet hit the ground with a thud, and a moment later, his hands were on your hips as he pulled you towards him. Din crashed his lips onto yours, closing the gap between you with a desperate kiss. You’d kissed before - more times than you could even begin to count - but this one felt different. It had meaning; purpose, in fact. It was as though the last few months’ worth of feelings that the Mandalorian had been pushing aside had finally broken.
‘I love you, cyar'ika.’ He quietly murmured again. ‘And I’m sorry.’
‘Stop saying sorry.’ You tearfully smiled, forehead still pressed against his. ‘And I love you too, even if you’re a bit of a dumbass sometimes.’
‘Say it again.’
‘I love you, dumbass.’ You quietly said.
‘Is that now your equivalent to cyar'ika?’
#mandalorian x reader#mandalorian imagine#mando x reader#mando imagine#din djarin x reader#din djarin imagine#mandalorian x you#mando x you#din djarin x you#mandalorian fluff#mandalorian angst#star wars imagines#star wars x you#star wars fanfic#star wars x reader
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It’s all for his sake - Endeavor and the Sunk Cost Fallacy
My hero academia 301 is a pretty interesting chapter, but for me, the most notable piece of it was how Endeavour reacted to the realization that Touya couldnt surpass All Might.
upon realizing that his son might not be able to do it because of inborn physical limitations, he immediatly stopped his training, which frankly was the responsible and adult thing to do.
This stint of real parenthood did not last long however.
After taking the matter to a doctor, he is flat out told that not only cant Touya achive what endeavor wants, but it is a direct result of his incredibly selfish and irresponsible attempt to play god, by trying to breed the “perfect” hero into being.
It is how you react when you lose however, that shows who you really are, and endeavor illustrates that very, very well.
Upon being told in no uncertain terms that his attempts at Breeding an heir failed magnificently, producing a child that was not capable of resisting his own immense power, but also admonished by his doctor for even attempting it, and adviced not to try again, Endeavor instead doubled down, while focusing on the child he screwed over from the start with his attempt at genetic manipulation.
It was all for him you see. Endeavor doesnt use those words, but that is how he spins it here. it was all for Touya, all for his sake. if i stop now, then Touya was all for nothing, a mistake, im doing this for my son.
if im doing this for my son, then im not responsible for any of this.
his wife however, calls him out on it, as she understands Touya much, much more than endeavor does. or rather, she sees him fully as a human being, instead of as a thing, a weapon, a failed attempt at an heir.
Unlike Endeavor, Rei is able to see the way this all is affecting her son. She is able to see, and understand that Touya has fully accepted what Endeavor wanted him to be. a stronger, and better version of himself. however, unlike Endeavor, she only cares about him as a person.
Endeavour by comparison isnt completely uncaring about Touya. like most abusive parents, he does possess love for his offspring, but it is forever tainted by the fact that however much he might care, or not care about Touya, any familial love he has for his son is tainted by the fact that to Endeavor, he is a failed experiment, a failed heir, not his child.
He is the golden child that Endeavor was building up as his true and only heir, who he breed, trained, and molded to for that single purpose, and now that he’s reached a point where he cant continue that legacy.
so, its time to abandon him, and start over new, despite literarily having just learned how stupid this plan was, and that it can, in fact, go completely wrong, with a quirk that will fuck over the person he brings into the world.
Of course, Endeavor doesnt use those words to frame it. there is no way to pretend to be a hero, if you phrase it like that after all. Intead, this is the words he uses.
this is a very important series of panels for a great number of reasons, some that can be debated, argued, and we will probably never know the full truth to the questions because this is a series published in 2020′s shonen jump, and there are things that probably wasnt gonna fly with Hori’s editors, if it was the case.
but lets start with what can not be debated. Endeavor’s words here.
“If we want him to give it up, then we have no choice... Touya... Cant surpass him.”
These are very telling words, and however you believe The third and fourth children of the Todoroki family was concieved, there is not denying the meaning of what he’s saying here.
The only way that my son will stop being an idiot and fall into line, is if we have another baby. that is the only Right way to move forward. it is morally right, because if we dont do this, then he’s going to destroy himself.
there are two ways to interpret this scene.
The charitable way is to read it as the fact that he used Rei’s oldest son’s mental state as a justification of guilting his wife to have a third child, to give this attempt at a superpowered breeding project another shot, despite the fact that they now know that this can lead to a child who is essentially born crippled from his own powers, and despite the fact that Rei obviously understands the effect of them continuing this insanity will have on their oldest son.
the uncharitable way to look at it, is that he used this as justification for flat out raping her, and forcing a third, and then later a fourth child on her.
I personally believe the last one, given a number of factors shown in this chapter(the way this page is framed, the fact Rei obviously didnt want a third child, given she predicted exactly how touya would react, the way her eyes would latet turn when she looks at who is presumably touya which really brings to mind how she would later react to her youngest son’s face after her mental breakdown, etc.), but i’ll frankly admitt that withouth a direct quote from Hori, its impossible to know for sure one way or another.
either way however, this is a very good example of Endeavor both being influenced by, and using Sunk Cost Fallacy to justify bringing another potentially crippled child into the world for his own, selfish goals.
sunk cost Fallacy, is a mental reaction to when you invest more time and resources into a project, that you becomes so emotionally invested into said project that you will continue to invest into it, even if it reaches a point that it becomes clear that the resources you put into it, far, far outweighs the potential gains you can achieve.
because if you give up after having invested years, and years of effort to breed, raise, and train a kid, and then all that effort was absolutely wasted. hence he choose to keep going, despite having learned what a terrible idea this is.
He doesnt care about the fact that his next child might be even more crippled than his firstborn, he doesnt care about his son’s actual wellbeing. he cares about the fact that if he doesnt continue this insanity, then not only will he not achieve his dreams, but everything he did to get to this point was for absolutely nothing.
and endeavor cannot accept that. and so long as he can justify breeding more children into the world, and there being any chance they might inherit both quirks perfectly, he doesnt care about anything else.
and the moment he realised that this kid wasnt gonna cut it either, he did it again. it is not a coincidence, that the age gap between Endeavor’s second, third, and fourth children were all 3-4 years apart. because thats the age where you can usually tell when a quirk will manifest or not, as established earlier in the series.
While she isnt brought up directly by Endeavor as a justification, it is very telling that Endeavor decided on having a third child, only after his second child was old enough that he could tell that that there was no chance she could take the place as his heir instead.
So, he had his third child, and as time passed and it became obvious that he wasn’t gonna be able to fulfill Endeavor’s goals either, he dumped him, and instead breed a fourth child into existence.
and finally, he struck gold. he did it. he produced Shoto.
everything was finally worth it, and now, everything would be absolutely fine. the cost fallacy had reached its end, and it was now all full sails ahead.
except of course it wasnt.
His oldest son, now in middle school, had been raised from birth to believe he would surpass his father, only to be thrown away, and getting to see his father try to replace him, not once, but twice.
frankly, this scene is probably my favorite in the chapter, because it goes to show Endeavor’s mindset. Natsuo made a point that their father completely ignored his older children. and he did... from Natsuo’s perspective. however, having a more thourough picture of things, we can clearly see that this wasnt the case with Touya.
Endeavor genuinly cared for Touya, enough that once he got that child he tried to breed into existence 4 times, he genuinly wanted him to just abandon trying to be a hero. he genuinly thinks of himself as a good dad here, wanting his son to abandon the mission he set out for him before he was born. of course, with context, this heartwarming scene is incredibly sad and insidious, because we understand why Endeavor got so attached to his oldest child. because he WAS the golden child. he was the child Endeavor genuinly cared about, and invested in, and trained personally with great warmth and enthusiasm.
And not only did he abandon him as a failed project the moment he realized he wasnt gonna live up to his ridiculous standards, but he literarily created 2 more kids to try and replace him, just as his oldest son was old enough to understand what exactly his dad was doing. over the course of this chapter, we get to see Touya’s start as a 5-8 year old, his deteriorating mental state over the years, until he finally seemed to reach the breaking point with Shoto’s birth sometime in his middle school years 12-15.
Endeavor is in this scene, just not capable of understanding why Touya so desperately wants to become a hero, when obviously he isnt physically able to do so. he isnt able to understand that he is 100% to blame for the fact that his son is having a full emotional breakdown after literaly being replaced by his siblings.
In other words, Endeavor genuinly think’s he’s a good person. a person who has made a few mistakes along the way sure, but a person who was always justified in the end, and now that he’s having to face the fact that as dabi would later say “The past never dies” and has to face the aftermath of his inane attempt to play god for the pettiest of reasons, things simply arent going to work out.
He isnt going to have a happy family, who can now put the awful early years behind them, he put way too much effort, caused too much suffering and sacrificed too many years of his life for this not to work out as he wants.
after all, if he walks away from this project now, and lets Shoto have a normal childhood, and decide for himself, with no pressure from him, wheter or not to become a hero, then the sunk cost fallacy will have reached a negative end. it will all have been for nothing.
and we know he did eventually double down on this mentality, literarily beating into Shoto that he WAS going to become a hero, and there was not but’s or no’s about it.
there was no way that Endeavor was EVER going to let things be for nothing. His treatment of his older children could not be for nothing. His treatment of his wife could not be for nothing. His treatment of Shoto, and the way he beat him black and blue to train him, could not be for nothing.
Because if it all was for nothing, if everything he feels guilty about was for absolutely nothing, then he was in fact, a bad, bad person, who had no justification for anything he ever did.
#my hero academia#touya todoroki#dabi#endeavor#endeavour#enji todoroki#rei todoroki#character study#301#meta
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The Resurrection Stone Scene: Culmination Of Harry's Emotional Arc
The series biggest themes surround death and Harry coming to terms with his parents' death is arguably his biggest emotional arc. I have argued in my meta about Harry before that he has passive death wish and morbid fascination with the dead. This is obvious in his desire for the Resurrection stone while Ron and Hermione choose other Hallows, his obsession with Mirror of Erised (to the point he feels feverish) until Dumbledore intervenes, him almost wanting to fail to learn a Patronus because he wants to hear his parents voices,the scene at the grave where he almost wishes he was "lying under the snow" with his parents and that possession scene in OOTP, where he wishes to die so he can be with Sirius. Harry has, in many moments, shown a raw desire for death - in ways that actually scares Hermione and makes Ron uncomfortable as evidenced by their reaction when he tells them why he wants the Resurrection stone.
Harry's fascination with the dead isn't surprising - this abused and neglected boy learned in PS that his parents fought to protect him. Essentially they loved him so much, they died for him and Harry feels robbed of that life, a life with parents who loved him dearly (reference his narration in HBP, where he wonders what life would have been like if Neville was the Chosen One).
So accepting his parents and parental figures' deaths and choosing to return to life - a life of sorrow, pain, and trauma when he could have just gone "on" (or had "an out" as he screamed in OOTP) - is one of Harry's bigger heroic decisions. To come to a point that Harry can ask his parents' murderer to feel "remorse" in an attempt to save his soul, Harry needed to see and hear things he always wanted to hear from the people he loved.
So, the scene starts:
"You've been so brave"/ "Stay close to me"
LILY: While in life, Harry knows a lot more about James than Lily, it is interesting whenever she appears in any form, Harry is looking at her the most ("I will be back" Harry says, tearing his eyes from his mother's face in PS/ and once again in DH, he couldn't stop looking at her: "his eyes feasted on her"). She is his mother, the one who loved him so much, it magically manifested as a protection that gave him 17 years of life. Her love is always there as safety blanket - so even when his father disappointed him in OOTP, he is comforted by the idea that his "mother had been decent". She is his ultimate protector and this is why he asks her : "stay close to me" while she is gently affirms, "you've been so brave". And unsurprisingly, it is this sacrifice that lives on in Voldemort that gives Harry a choice - a choice to return to the living. After spending much of the series trying to be like his father, Harry embodies his mother by invoking sacrificial magic for Hogwarts fighters. But his embodiment of his mother is not an impulsive brave decision, his walk to his death is far more intentional than hers - as the book narration says, "it's a cold blooded walk to his destruction".
"You are nearly there, very close, we are so proud of you" / "Until the very end"
JAMES - his father, the man he looks like, flies like, and tries to root his identity in. Harry spends most of the books trying to live up to the ideal of his father. His Patronus is an embodiment of his father ("Prongs rode again last night"), and it is James' bravery that gives Harry comfort at the traumatic night in the graveyard and makes him want to stand up and fight Voldemort: "He was not going to crouch like a child, he was going to die upright like his father" (as Voldemort taunts him: "now you face me like a man..like your father, straight backed and proud").
James is catalyst to lot of Harry's growth. Harry making an active choice after being horrified by his father's behaviour in SWM, wondering "did he want to be like his father anymore?" is an important character moment for him. He reconciles his view of James, humanises him and thinks of him with "a rush of pride" in HBP as the man who walked into an arena to fight with head held high. So, Harry hears from the father he tried for so long to embody and then surpass in moral character - that he is proud of him and that he will be there to protect him "until the very end".
Here is a meta by u/metametatron4 that tracks Harry's feelings about his father and Snape in detail. Read it here.
"Dying? Not at all - quicker and easier than falling asleep" / "We are a part of you - invisible to everyone else"
SIRIUS - While Lily and James affirm how far Harry has come, Sirius as the parental figure Harry had in life offers him words of comfort when Harry asks if dying hurts.
This comfort has an added layer, knowing Harry's often violent response to Sirius's death. His reaction to his death has been attempting Crucio on Bellatrix, trashing Dumbledore's office in OOTP, along with other stages of grief. At the end of OOTP, Harry is a mess of unfocused grief and rage - one that he will actively repress in HBP. He avoids talking about Sirius until he thinks the person he is talking to is as invested in Sirius - he brings up Sirius with Buckbeak/Witherwings or Tonks, who he mistakenly assumes is depressed about his death. The biggest indication of how much Harry is really repressing his feelings about Sirius's death is his reaction to Mundungus stealing from Grimmauld place. He lifts Mundungus with one hand, chokes him until he turns blue while threatening him with a wand. He had to be magicked off Mundungus because he, terrifyingly, showed no inclination of stopping despite Hermione screaming at him to do so.
The other time he reacts badly is Lupin's scene in DH. The first person he thinks of when he says "Parents shouldn't leave their kids" is Sirius. He sees image of Sirius falling through the veil, followed by Dumbledore. His reaction to Lupin abandoning his child is powered by the unprocessed grief and rage of the deaths he has witnessed, of parental figures robbed from him. And then, of course, his violent impulse to break Bellatrix's wand with the sword of Gryffindor once Hermione points out that the wand killed Sirius. His violent reaction to his death is due to lack of closure.
This is why it is important that Sirius tells him that dying doesn't hurt, because it would have eased Harry to know that Sirius isn't in pain. And he assures "we are a part of you" - so even though there was no body to mourn and Sirius just effectively disappeared - Sirius is still part of him.
"He'll want to be quick, he wants it over"/ "I am sorry too. I am sorry that I will never know him...but he will know why I died and I hope he will understand. I was trying to make the world in which he could live a happier life"
LUPIN - Lupin, like Sirius, also offers comfort by telling him that death will be quick because Voldemort wants to finish it too. It's interesting to me that Lupin is the character that says something that arms him for the future - should he choose to have it ("I'll tell him to follow his instincts which are good and nearly always right" Lupin says earlier in the book).
Lupin is a mentor, a bridge and by DH, a warm friend - he was the one who taught Harry the Patronus charm (a gateway to connection with his father + something that protects him) and it's Harry's trust in Lupin that makes him willing to hear Sirius out at the end of POA, thereby connecting him to a very important relationship. He gives Harry tools to equip him to best live out his life. And once again, Lupin acts as a bridge to Harry's life - he tries to take away Harry's guilt from his own death and leaving behind Teddy. Knowing that Harry survives, this is important for Harry to know so he can live with himself as he takes on godfather role to Teddy.
At the end of this scene, Harry drops the stone, ready for his death. And the fact that he chooses not to go back to it without much inner struggle after the Battle of Hogwarts is a marked shift and beginning for him.
#harry potter and the deathly hallows#deathly hallows#harry james potter#james potter#Sirius black#remus lupin#lily potter#lily evans#resurrection stone#the forest again#until the very end#we are in here#hp meta#hp analysis#harry potter analysis#remus john lupin#harry potter#the marauders#marauders#moony#Padfoot#prongs
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If claude had not gone through the abuse he did ,would he have become a better parent than diana. Like if we level his past and upbringing with normal headed characters like diana, lily, Felix and duke Alpheus, as in if he grew up in a normal environment like the others then would he have become a better guardian? Like with a loving elder and younger brother, a sick but loving mother who dies when he's in his late teens etc. Because I agree with your point about diana's love being conditional and problematic. In the manhwa we see claude being delighted at finding out about the pregnancy. What would his reason be to have a child? Simply to produce an heir? Or did he just want a child for the sake of becoming a parent? I'm trying to understand Claude's true personality. That's why I'm asking if he grew up in a normal environment. Also because many things often make it seem like if it weren't for his abuse, then he might just have been very caring and also that he understands things more than other people. On top of that he seems more attached and clingy, more soft than diana or lily. Like many people have speculated after seeing baby claude that he would've become like ezekiel if he hadn't gone through that abuse. And ezekiel would make for a great parent if I'm not wrong. Please make your headcanons about these. I'd love that.
The answer is: I don't know. Taking away every single personality trait of his that was either shaped or created by trauma what would we have? Nothing. Even tiny Claude in his purest form was already abnormally alert to potential danger or threats. His clinginess, his overly dependence on a selected few he trusted, his desire to please. Heck even his ambition in his studies can be traced back to his need for validation and praise, which you could argue, only manifested because he was already so starved off affection.
chapter 79: I have the hc that Claude only gave his best in his studies to make Ana proud of him, which, unfortunately, backfired.
It’s actually a good thing Claude and Ana had a falling out, because otherwise I think their relationship had become very co-dependent. I say co-dependent because I think there is some truth to Claude’s statement “I believed that the kindness he showed me when we were younger was born from hypocricity and a sense of superiority.” I don’t doubt that they genuinely liked each other, but I’m under the impression that they sought comfort in each other that their parents refused to give them. Basically I think part of why Claude clung so much to Ana is because he represented safety & family love, which he was so anxious to lose. When Ana was there no one dared to hurt him. As for Ana I think Ana build his self-worth partly on Claude’s admiration for him (because Claude didn’t have impossible expectations for him. He didn’t have to make a hard effort to impress Claude. It came naturally. Ana just being around Claude protected him against the bullies = he did the barest minimum and was already a hero to him.). But when Claude grew older, started to surpass him and idolized him less, Ana’s ego took a major hit.
In one of the chapters where the Empress raged it was implied that the Emperor brought Claude and his mum later into the palace which suggests that Anastacius and Claude didn’t grow up together from the beginning. How did their friendship start? Out of pity on Ana’s side? What did Ana get out of the relationship? And why did he never order the guards to leave Claude alone? Even if Claude’s blood is “dirty”, he is still part of the royal family. He could have justified the order in front of others by saying that it’s a crime to raise a hand against the Imperial family, hurting Claude is akin to raising a hand against him. Yet he didn’t really make an effort to prevent bad things from happening to Claude, he’s just always there to comfort him. We are missing part of the information, and this is why I hc pre dark magic! Ana still as sort of selfish. (This is my personal interpretation based on the few panels. I like Ana but I think he’s very flawed.)
I already mentioned it in another post, even if Anastacius and Claude’s relationship never deteriorated, it still would have unhealthy undertones. I don’t think Ana would have been interested in Claude becoming too independent. I don’t even think he would realize that Claude has the tendancy to form unhealthy attachments or that he would see anything wrong with it. He’d find his clinginess cute. And as the crown prince he’s used to people doing as he says. Power imbalances are normal to him. If he saw Claude being possessive over Diana, he might treat it as a normal thing since women, especially commoner women are usually treated more like possessions. Or he’d even think it romantic and that Diana is lucky to have such a good husband. Their perception of healthy relationships seems to be skewed, because they never had good role models.
Anyways even without Aety’s influence the Empress already made him anxious enough that Claude could overthrow him one day. A requirement for this au would be that Ana doesn’t see Claude as a threat. Ana would welcome a marriage between Diana and Claude because Diana would have no power as a commoner.
If Aeternitas had never entered the picture and the Obelia brothers never had a falling out, Claude could have been a “good” parent. I don’t know if he would have been a better parent than Diana as she was a girl and girls back then had more experience with raising children, especially given that she belonged to a group of travelling female entertainers. But it’s canon that Claude grew up with Felix who was said to have been like a little brother to him, so he probably took care of him and they used to play together. Children also tend to copy the parenting style of their caretaker. We know nothing about Felix’s mother, but in a sense Ana filled out a parental role since Claude’s mom was unavailible.
Random headcanons:
- Claude would be a worrywart
- when Jennette is born Claude would pay close attention to the way Penelope treats her, he would ask Anastacius and Penny for advice and maybe even shyly ask for permission to babysit her. Anastacius would find this amusing. Eventually Penny would give in and show him how to hold Jennette, explaining how to properly support her head and neck. When Jennette leaves Penelope’s arms and makes contact with Claude she immediately starts to cry, which greatly discourages Claude, because what if Athy won’t like him?
- he’d do lots of research in the Imperial library and read hundreds of educational guides and books,
- not wanting to alienate Athy from her Siodonnian heritage he’d even order foreign books from Siodonna to incorporate them into her education
- at first he’d decline to hold Athy (even though he wants to very badly) fearing that the baby might just slip from his hold, but Diana insists that it was important to form a bond between them. And when her bright blue eyes meets his own, I think he’d cry. He’d be feeling too many emotions.
- this Claude would still be overprotective af, but he wouldn’t be strict. He is the kind of parent who can’t scold his child and gets stressed out when it starts to cry. He would blame himself for doing something wrong.
- takes the time to find and employ the best nannys in the Obelian Empire but then insists on babysitting Athy by himself
- helicopter parent Claude putting spells on the edges of furniture, so that Athy won’t hurt herself on them
- whenever Claude doesn’t know something he’d seek out Ana and Penny. Ana would play a major role in the way Athy is raised. Athy and Jennette would feel very much like they were siblings.
- god luck getting close to another man before you hit 18, Athy!
"What would his reason be to have a child? Simply to produce an heir? Or did he just want a child for the sake of becoming a parent? I'm trying to understand Claude's true personality."
Producing a heir was probably the farthest thing in his mind. He was a teenager or a young adult, put layers upon layers of protection spells on himself and wizards, as is generelly known, have a longer life expectancy than normal humans. Moreover don't think Claude would be that enthusiastic to continue his bloodline.
When he got Diana pregnant it was probably an accident. I imagine he was scared at the idea of children but in the end the joy at having a baby with the person he loved the most prevailed over his fear that he could turn into his father. He might have romanticized fatherhood as he did romanticize Diana, which turned problematic as soon as they had their first serious fight and Claude devalued her.
The reasons why I think he wanted a child:
- to have a living proof of his and Diana’s love
- to tie Diana down (ow this sounds a bit harsh and I don’t think he tried to babytrap her lol but I think it did occur to him that if he had a child with her, Diana would be less likely to leave him one day)
- to receive unconditional love ^2
- to fix the mistake of his parents
-> to reprocess his childhood trauma and end it this time with a happily ever after
- there was no reason to abort back then and sooner or later he would have been pressured to have a heir anyway. Better have one with the person he loves, right?
- [insert usual reason why normal people want to have children]
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“You are being ridiculous. Just give it up.”
“I will not,” Damian growled fiercely, glowering up at Jason with a look that could rival that of a madman. He was still clad in his Robin suit save only the cape, which he detached and dropped to the cave entrance as soon as he stepped out of the Batmobile. Despite a disappointed tisk from Bruce, the black cape remained in a crumpled heap by the passenger door, where it would stay for the few remaining hours of the night. Patrol with his father was boring that particular evening, giving Damian ample energy to waste arguing with Jason now in the cave.
“You are not stronger than me.” It was obvious Jason was trying not to laugh at the absurdity, which only infuriated Damian further.
“I am.” Damian snarled. “My training greatly surpasses yours. No offense, Father,” he added softly and Bruce rolled his eyes from his chair at the computer to the side. He still wore his suit, but his cowl was pushed back to reveal tired eyes scanning the files on the screen before him. “I was trained by my mother, my grandfather, and now my father, in case you have managed to forget. Therefore, I am far superior than you in every aspect. Including physical strength.”
“Funny you should mention your mom, kid-"
“Jason!” Bruce snapped and turned in his chair to glare warning daggers at his second child.
“I was just going to say, I was also trained by his mother,” Jason hissed back, but he couldn’t hide his obvious amusement. “And you, for that matter.”
“Your time with the League was more considered babysitting, Todd, since your brain was equivalent to a scrambled egg.”
“Damian,” Bruce sighed, rubbing at his temples with his pointed fingers and turning back to the computer screen.
“You’re insane,” Jason chuckled passively, and he thought Damian was going to screech like a pterodactyl at the dismissal.
Tim entered the cave from the main staircase digging the palm of his hand into his eyelid and chewing loudly on the tip of an empty plastic Go-Gurt tube. Bruce looked him up and down, taking in his pajama shirt and boxers with a frown. His hair stuck up in several directions, like his head had met a pillow for a short time before he got up again.
“What are you doing down here, ziskayt? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Bruce asked, voice low with a specific kindness he reserved just for his family.
Tim should have been in bed. He and Bruce made an agreement that Tim would stay in bed tonight and sleep before they worked intently together on a fast-approaching case the following day and evening.
Tim perked up with sudden intensity and approached Bruce with fast footfalls while ripping the yogurt tube from his teeth. His cheeks were only slightly pinkened at the endearment Bruce called him, as it was one his grandmother used when he was very young. “Well, hang on a sec, B. I actually had to come down here and inform you of a break through I found in our case. Check this...” he unfolded the stapled packet of papers previously tucked securely under one arm, and he smoothed it out over the table in front of Bruce. The man listened silently while Tim quickly explained his findings, leaning over the table and occasionally pushing the bangs back from his heavy eyes. Tim’s hair was longer now than it had been when he first became Robin at thirteen, to the point that he sometimes pulled it up into a runt of a ponytail just to keep it from cutting irritatingly into his eyes.
“Very impressive,” Bruce murmured after the presentation, picking up the packet for himself and flipping through the discoveries. Tim beamed and hopped up onto the computer desk, sitting down next to the monitor and facing Bruce. He returned the plastic to his mouth and chewed aimlessly, watching Bruce for his next instructions and kicking his legs lightly. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Jason speak next.
“I bet you can’t even lift Tim,” Jason planted his hands on his hips and smirked, knowing exactly how this challenge was going to end.
Tim wrinkled his nose and furrowed his eyebrows. From his perch on Bruce’s desk, he quickly intervened before this developed further. “No, no. Absolutely not. I am not getting involved in-“
“Too easy. Drake maintains atrocious self-care habits,” Damian interrupted with an eye roll directed toward Jason, acting as though he didn’t hear Tim at all.
Tim frowned at the blatant insult to his person, and lifted his arms up with irritation. “Hey, wait a sec-"
“He’s far thinner than he should be. That’s way too easy. Pick something harder,” Damian demanded, pointing an aggressive finger at Jason and nearly growling.
Tim scoffed and muttered, chewing furiously on the plastic, “Bruce, your kid is out of control. You should consider muzzling the mashuganas whelp.”
“Timothy Jackson-“ Bruce reprimanded and reached up to yank the Go-gurt tube from Tim’s mouth. The plastic ripped from his lips with a pop and left behind a surprised O-shaped mouth in its wake. Bruce crumbled the garbage and tossed it into the trash can tucked beneath the desk.
“He started it, didn’t you hear what he said about me?” Tim asked in bewilderment, still spinning after receiving the dreaded middle name.
“I did hear him. And shouldn’t you be in bed now?” Bruce repeated his earlier question with an eyebrow ticked in curiosity.
Tim wrinkled his nose. “I will. But I was hungry and also I had to tell you about this case first, and-" Bruce leveled a warning look at him and Tim rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “Point stands, he is being a mashuganas whelp.”
“Drake, you should learn to keep your opinions to yourself and save us all the wasted time of listening to you speak,” Damian snapped in defense, fists clutches firmly at his sides.
Tim laughed loud and harsh at that, a sound that felt grating in Bruce’s ears with the onset of a headache. “I should keep my opinions to myself? Have you even heard-“
“Boys, that’s enough,” Bruce demanded, voice low and holding up a hand to cease all arguing. The only sounds resonating in the dimly lit cave were the quiet snickers of Jason, muffled by his own hand pressed firmly to his mouth. “I am going upstairs now.” He faced Damian with a serious eyebrow raised and stated factually. “You have school in the morning. And you,” he faced Tim, who was silently chewing on the inside of his cheek in the absence of his Go-gurt tube, “will be staying home from school tomorrow because you obviously have several hours of sleep to catch up on yourself." When Bruce found out that Tim had dropped out of school during his unfortunate leave of absence, it took him nearly an entire month of near-begging and vague threatening to get Tim to go back. Once Alfred got involved and asked Tim in the kindest, softest voice if he would please consider finishing high school, Tim was unable to refuse. "I expect to hear both of you upstairs and walking into your rooms within the next fifteen minutes.” He stood up from his chair and walked toward the cave entrance with long strides. “You do not want me to come back down here and collect you, trust me.” And without another word or a look back at the stunned faces left in his wake, he strode into the locker room to change, and then reappeared just to walk up the stairs.
But Jason wasn’t quite finished yet. “I can pick up Tim, Damian. Prove to me that you can and I’ll admit that your training was ‘far superior.’” He crossed his arms with a smirk, and Damian could no longer deny the thrilling desire to annihilate his brother in this argument.
“And that I am stronger than you,” Damian demanded and Jason agreed. “Fine then!” He threw his arms up and spun toward Tim, who scowled deeply and shook his head in response. “Oh come on, Drake. This will only take a minute. Might as well make your time down in the cave useful, for once.”
Tim scoffed and slid off the counter. He flipped his middle finger up in an insult directed toward Damian and stalked off toward the cave exit, following Bruce’s path to the main part of the house. Before he reached the stairs, Jason appeared next to him, grinning hugely like a villainous cartoon cat and wrapping a halting hand around Tim’s wrist.
“No, Jay. Stop it!” Tim hissed and tried to pull away, but Jason ducked down and scooped him up, holding him tightly in a bridal hold. “He can’t carry me, this is a waste of time.”
“Lies!” Damian protested.
Jason ignored Tim and approached the youngest. “You have to hold him for thirty whole seconds. Count starts as soon as I let go. Ready?”
Damian straightened and raised his chin, nodding with confirmation and reaching his arms out in preparation.
“Jason.” The last-second plea fell on deaf ears as Jason bent forward and delivered him into Damian’s arms. The transfer was shaky and Tim grasped at the collar of Damian’s robin suit, wishing to drag the brat down to the floor with him when he would inevitably end up there.
Jason stepped back and waited, smirking.
Tim realized with an eye roll just how annoyingly close to the ground he was in the arms of the child, but his grip didn’t loosen based on principle. Damian was huffing quietly, redness tinted his cheeks.
“See, Todd?” He hissed through teeth clenched tight with effort. “Easy.”
“Sure, bud,” Jason snickered. “You make this look so easy. Twenty seconds left.”
“This is a bad idea,” Tim muttered as he felt Damian’s legs shake beneath his carrier.
“Fifteen,” Jason announced, watching with raised eyebrows that Damian misread as surprise, when instead he was waiting for the expected result. “Ten.”
Tim grimaced, bracing himself for a hard landing. At Jason’s announcement of five seconds, and right on his expected schedule, Damian’s legs buckled and he fell forward, dropping Tim to the ground and landing with his sharp knees digging ruthlessly into his brother’s side.
Tim huffed and slapped his palms to the cold ground beneath him. “Shocker,” he murmured sarcastically and stood up, pushing Damian off of him in the process.
“That landing was pathetic, Drake. No wonder Grayson chose me,” the kid growled, wiping at the suit covering his knees.
Tim’s mouth fell open in response, a hurt crease created between his furrowed brows. But before he could respond, Jason reached out and lightly smacked the back of Damian’s head, sending him a furious warning look.
“The brat is only joking, Tim,” Jason confirmed quickly. “He’s just lashing out because he’s angry that he is the weakest person in the room.”
“The room? Absolutely not, I demand a do-over! I know I’m stronger than Drake.”
Half an hour after Bruce’s departure from the cave, he groaned dramatically under his covers. He never heard his children walk past his door and retreat to their own bedrooms. So now, due to his thin-veiled threat, he had to go get them. He threw the covers aside and heaved himself from the mattress with a grumble. Upon walking down the cold steps to the cave, he heard loud shouts that he was unable to decipher. His feet quickened on the tile until he reached the bottom, where he froze and watched with an irritated, and slightly amused, frown.
“Damian, lift more!” Tim shouted, his arms tucked under Jason’s armpits, and straining to lift his top half to Tim’s bellybutton. Damian held Jason’s calves on his shoulders and was groaning near-constant.
“Focus on your own side!” Damian cried out, more desperate than Bruce has heard from him. Damian pushed his palms up against Jason’s calves but they hardly lifted.
“Ha!” Jason crooned, sounding comically relaxed compared to his struggling brothers. “Told ya you two couldn’t lift me above your heads. My weak, baby brothers.”
Damian growled at the taunt and Tim laughed, his shaking arms dropping Jason’s top half an inch closer toward the ground before he recovered again.
“Boys!” Bruce snapped and looked at their frozen forms with narrowed eyes. “I told you to go to bed. Come up here right now before I carry all three of you up.”
They gracelessly released Jason to the floor, who landed with an “oof” that brought a chuckle to Damian’s throat and a twitch to the corner of Bruce’s mouth.
Tim and Damian fell in line to follow Bruce up the stairs when Damian asked, “Father, can you really carry all three of us at once?”
He did.
:) From my fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32502511/chapters/80612944#workskin
#tim drake#damian wayne#jason todd#red hood#robin#red robin#bruce wayne#batman#dick grayson#nightwing#dcu#batman and robin#dc#Batfamily Fanfic#batfamily#batfam fic#batfam
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Touya’s "weak" constitution…or was it just unachievable standards?
I was thinking, is there any proof either Touya or Rei has a weak constitution/a weak body? We've never seen or heard of Rei being physically weak or frail. We've only ever heard her children worry about her mental state, not her physical state. We also see Dabi holding his own during battles, even if he’s burning himself. So, why did Endeavor say Touya inherited Rei's weak constitution if physically both are healthy?
It's because Endeavor has a bias toward fire quirks and it serves as his gauge to assess someone's strength and worthiness. Look at his agency - every employee is a fire user. He doesn't employee any ice, wind, or water quirk users either, which would make a balanced team (see: Inasa and Shouto's fire tornado at the provisional licensing exam.) He never wished he had an ice quirk because he thought ice would be a useful fighting quirk to supplement his fire quirk. Instead, he wanted an ice quirk for thermoregulation and that's it. He never acknowledges Shouto's skilled ability to use his right side. It's always "SHOUTO USE YOUR LEFT SIDE" and he only ever emphasizes Shouto training Half-Hot and learning fire-related ultimate moves. Endeavor considers Shouto's right side as a convenient accessory, kind of like those 9 wee wees (first aid emergency kits) Shouto carries on his belt. Endeavor even calls Shouto an idiot for not using his fire side during his match with Sero at the sports festival when, honestly, did that battle call for fire? Shouto did fine only using his ice that time.
Like Midoriya said, Half-Cold is only half of Shouto's power, so why would Endeavor hyperfixate on improving/training only Shouto's left side instead of all his power? It's because Endeavor wants Shouto to be a fire-only user and limit the ice to a cooling mechanism, which is Endeavor's way of living vicariously through him to become #1. You could argue that Shouto already trained Half-Cold on his own and it doesn't need more training, but would that be the mentality of someone who's been the #2 hero for over 20 years and started training his son at 5 years old to surpass a man who was in his 40's at the time? Would Endeavor say, "You can stop training Half-Cold now Shouto, you're strong enough"? He'd never say that about Half-Hot either.
In Endeavor's eyes, the ice quirk and the body type for it are inferior. It's stated in canon that Rei doesn't like the heat, and we assume it's because of her ice quirk. Her body is suited for colder temperatures. Otherwise, she'd freeze anytime she used her quirk. But, Endeavor considers Rei and her body "weak" because she can't withstand heat, even though she's not supposed to.
So, Touya inherited Rei's constitution, aka her body type that is built to withstand cold temperatures. But the problem as we all know is that he inherited Endeavor's flames, and anytime he uses his quirk, his body burns. So, it's not that Touya was weak, but that he wasn't blessed with the ideal genetic combination of a body that was a good match for a fire quirk, and for that Endeavor shamed him and told him he wasn't good enough, that basically Touya’s entire existence was inherently wrong.
So no, Touya isn’t weak physically. He never was weak and there was nothing wrong with his body. Having a quirk doesn't mean you have to use it - a lot of people in the manga don't use theirs. Touya was a child who didn't win the genetic lottery but was told he’d become #1 someday, but then that came crashing down once his body couldn’t keep up. It must have been damaging for him to hear he was weak and therefore lesser because of how his body was built, for something he couldn’t change and had no control over. It's like being told by your parent who has a deep tan 24/7 that you're worthless because you're albino, but you tan to gain their approval and end up with severe burns. Or, being told that your lungs are wrong because you have asthma. There’s nothing inherently “wrong” about those conditions and they don’t make that individual “weak” - it requires them to take care of themselves differently, sure, but it doesn’t make them “weak” people. There's no correlation between someone's inherent worth and their physical (dis)abilities or physical characteristics.
But, Endeavor passes judgment and assigns value to his children on whether they have a fire quirk and whether they can use it. Like, what if Fuyumi or Natsuo have unbelievably strong ice quirks with a built in heating quirk so they won't get hypothermia or freeze, which enables them to surpass All Might? Endeavor never bothered with them though because they weren't mainly fire users and he wanted Hellflame, through his heir, to surpass All Might.
Also, this emphasizes that Endeavor never paused to think of the repercussions of his eugenics experiments. Endeavor made a child whose body does exactly what he didn't want and even worse - overheats AND burns his own flesh. Even after he realized Touya’s existence with a mismatched body and quirk meant physical agony and harm, it didn't stop him from trying for another child with the ideal quirk even though the child's health would potentially be at risk. What if instead of the ice and fire quirks working together, they work against each other? What if it was impossible to use both symbiotically? What if Touya’s case repeated itself and every time Shouto used his fire he burned because he inherited his mom's "weak" constitution on the left side and vice versa?
Also, this emphasizes that Endeavor only sees Shouto as primarily a fire user who has ice for cooling purposes, similar to how Early!Todoroki tried to be an ice user who sparingly used his fire quirk as a warming mechanism to thaw people and things he froze. But he's literally split down the middle - he's Half-Hot, Half-Cold. Endeavor was trying to mold his son into something his body wasn't built for too, just as he did with Touya. Endeavor was stifling Shouto by developing only his left side and reducing him to only half of his power. If Shouto hadn't trained his right side himself for combat out of spite, would Endeavor have trained it? I doubt it. It's like Endeavor was telling his ambidextrous kid to only write with his left hand when clearly learning to use both would be advantageous.
Ironic, isn't it?
#dabi#touya todoroki#dabi is a todoroki#shouto todoroki#rei todoroki#todorokis#todoroki family#bnha#bnha meta#my meta#endeavor tw#i always talk about dabi and shouto always comes up too#endeavor's bad parenting#long post#also i'm not diagnosing dabi with any medical conditions - I only made the comparison to explain what I mean#i don't think touya has a medical condition... he's just not built for his quirk and that should have been okay#a body is a body#it's neutral#endeavor doesn't see it like that though
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