Thiện.

01.03.2026
⋆ ✴︎˚｡ home, once again

“I am a good person. I am a powerful person. I don't believe in evil. I think that evil is an idea created by others to avoid dealing with their own nature. I understand my own nature. Good and evil have nothing to do with it. I understand myself. I control myself. I control everything within myself. My domain is my domain. I can lie on my back and affect the lives of those I love without moving a finger. But I would only affect them in good ways. I don't waste time on evil. I'm a good person. Is this thing on?”

Nervous Young Inhumans - Car Seat Headrest

for context, Thiện is not me. He is one of my ocs.

Thiện doesn’t conceptualize himself as suicidal in the conventional sense. His relationship to suicide is closer to instrumental fatalism than despair. He doesn’t actively want to die, but he also doesn’t strongly want to live. Instead, he holds a quiet, constant belief that he is not allowed to die until his role (he doesn’t know what his ‘role’ is either) is complete. He treats death as a narrative endpoint rather than an escape. He assumes, on some level, that he’ll survive whatever he or others puts him through. He doesn’t allow himself to imagine an exit that centers his own pain. Even when he takes risks, even when he hurts himself, there’s an implicit belief that he’ll keep going, holding onto a certainty that the world will not let him go yet. In any case where he does die, the idea of it occurring by accident feels more plausible than choosing that path intentionally.

Forgiveness, to him, is simply the fastest way to keep things moving. He files memories away without resolving them, the way someone might shove paperwork into a drawer rather than throw it out. This lets him function, perform, and maintain the illusion of normalcy. If evil is external, then it can be avoided. If it is a concept invented to excuse others’ cruelty, then he does not need it. He knows his own nature. He has catalogued it carefully. Accountability feels dangerous to him because it means acknowledging that what happened to him actually mattered. And that idea threatens the structure he’s built his life on.

The question of why people perceive him as seductive deeply disturbs him because he does not experience himself as an agent of desire. He's never consciously cultivated attraction towards himself anyways. Considering the fact he’s been hyperfeminized and objectified for about a quarter of his life, attention was something extracted from him rather than chosen by him. If people want him, it feels like a prelude to being used. Thiện had already learned that his boundaries were optional, he didn’t register these experiences as violations at the moment. They were just more things that happened to him, just a couple more things in the vault.

    
“You galvanistic young boy,
You galvanistic young man,
You galvanistic young inhuman,
You understand.”
    
  

Also, Thiện’s lack of physical reaction during abuse or coercion isn’t dissociation in the dramatic sense. His nervous system has learned that his own body is not the emergency. Other people’s distress is. That’s why he endured what his father did for so long, why he tolerated being treated as communal property, and why Tiffany’s death shattered him. It was not the first trauma. It was the first one that implicated him as a witness who failed to protect someone else.

The goat is how Thiện understands himself. The scapegoat who absorbs blame, carries contamination away from the group, and disappears quietly so others can be cleansed. Goats are considered unrighteous in parables, yet still permitted, still usable, still clean enough to be sacrificed. That is Thiện’s position in most of his relationships. His vulnerability is tolerated because it serves a function. His suffering is acceptable because it stabilizes others. He is harmed in ways that are framed as necessary, accidental, forgivable, maybe even entertaining.

The hare is how others often interpret him. The hare is marked as impure, associated with appetite, excess, and trickery. Its supposed lustfulness turns it into a convenient explanation for when he is violated. If he is perceived as the hare, then what happens to him can be reframed as something he invited, something he benefited from, something he secretly wanted. The goat suffers for the group, while the hare is blamed for provoking the sacrifice. Over time, he starts to wonder if everyone else sees something in him that he cannot, and whether that unseen thing makes him dangerous.

cartoon wound

by bulldog eyes, vriska serket