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actual-changeling · 4 months

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Do you think Aziraphale has been verbally, emotionally and psychologically abused by Heaven as well?

I will answer this question like one asked in good faith even though my gut is telling me there's a 50/50 chance it is very much not one.

So!

There are two parts to his answer, or rather one question is actually two.

Firstly, we have to talk about whether heaven is abusive, what that abuse looks like, and how it differs from hell.

Secondly, how did the results of question one affect Aziraphale, if it is different from what the other angels in heaven face, and what additional trauma might he have experienced due to being on earth.

I could write a 10k meta post about this and go into the finest detail, but I will just try and stick to the main points for now. It's still going to be way too long because I am so fucking tired of people accusing me of 'hating' Aziraphale or harassing me on my posts or in my inbox.

Is heaven abusive? Yes, and it applies to both heaven as an institution and the Archangels running it.

Getting to know Muriel and what their life looks like was extremely helpful in properly defining this, because they showed us that although the Archangels tend to travel and work as a group, most of the angels are incredibly isolated.

The result is complete emotional neglect, which not only impairs your ability to form and maintain healthy relationships with other people, it also stops your from learning emotional regulation and how to behave and feel as a part of (angelic) society. We see the consequences of that in Muriel, who comes across as overly naive, socially awkward, and out of touch with not just people but themselves.

When your entire life has been shrunk down to what happens inside your own head, suddenly being confronted with having to live outside of your mind is jarring, overwhelming, and foreign.

How do you talk to people when no one ever taught you how to do that? How do you behave around someone after a lifetime of being alone? How do your regulate your responses to their behaviour?

Who are you when there is someone else to perceive you?

Figuring that out is complicated and it takes time, and while most of the angels are only distantly aware of how humans live and what kind of interactions some of the other angels might have, the effects of that neglect stay the same whether they are aware of it or not.

Muriel shows us that angels are not born/made as a blank slate, and neither are humans for that matter. Tabula rasa as a philosophical belief is one thing, but reality is very, very different.

Angels also appear to have the same inherent need for connection, for a caretaker that loves them unconditionally, for someone to help them figure out how to be, and that provides a safe space to make mistakes. Without some or all of that, you grow up into a disregulated, socially awkward if not inept person who does not know how to have relationships or how to properly exist.

It is one of the reasons why autistic people are a) almost always traumatized to some degree and b) do not know how to socialize. No one ever works with our brains, and the resulting neglect is very similar to not receiving any help at all.

If you are now curious what happens if you're both autistic and were completely socially neglected, the result is uh. me. Hi! Not nice, but at least I am very sure I win the award for being my therapist's most fucked up client, so that's something.

Yet the angels are not solely emotionally neglected, the system/household they live in demands a low self-esteem, a lack of individual identity, and complete adherence to a defined ideology and behavioural pattern. In short, you are told how to be a useless, tiny part in a bigger machine, that your only purpose is to succeed at your tasks, and any opportunity for individual development is removed or destroyed.

If you are now once again curious what that might be like, uh, yeah, hi once more. Obviously my childhood was not exactly like an angels life, but the core characteristics were the same, just realized differently. Again, not pretty, really, really fucks you over.

Take that and the neglect, combine it into one person, and then drop them in the Garden of Eden—hello Aziraphale! Crowley got dropped into hell first, experienced more abuse, and then dug his way up into Eden before joining him.

Aziraphale experienced everything Muriel (and Crowley, and every other celestial being) also experienced, with one main difference: He is the one who got away.

We have to remember that out of every single celestial being, Aziraphale got the best deal. He did not fall, he got out of heaven (more or less) permanently, and was then largely left alone.

Does that erase anything I laid out above? No, of course not!

It simply provided him with the opportunity to heal, to take his cPTSD and who knows what other disorders he developed as a result, and start recovering.

Canonically, heaven did not bother him, like, ever, except for the odd note about 'frivolous miracles' or ten minutes of catching up every millennia. They only started monitoring him once they started to suspect he was involved with Crowley and trying to stop the apocalypse from happening.

Aziraphale worked on some things, he got better in many regards, especially with Crowley there to support him, but after six thousand years, many aspects have stayed the same or regressed back to the start over and over.

I will tell you a hard pill to swallow now: If you refuse to acknowledge your issues to instead live in a world of nicer denial and compartmentalization even when you have been offered the chance to change it, that is partly on YOU.

Is it fair? Fuck no! It's not fair at all, and I have had so many breakdowns over that fact. I did not break it, this is not my FAULT so why should I have to fix it all on my own? Why do I have to do the work, not them? How come they get away with it while I am going to have to carry this for the rest of my life?

I still have to do it though. I have to do the work, no matter how uncomfortable and exhausting, because I want to get better.

This conversation has so many facets and is a lot more complex, but this is already long enough, so if you have any questions or want to know something specific (while asking politely and in good faith) just send me an ask; I will do my best to answer it.

We are now only missing the last part of question 2, and that one is also so fucking complicated reducing it to the main points almost feels wrong, but I will do it anyway. Again, just ask if you have questions.

Abusive households are horrible, and you want to get out and away, but they are also the only thing you know. The world is scary, too big, too open, where did all the rules go that were previously defining your life?

Surviving in an abusive environment means you establish routine after routine after routine for every possible horrible scenario, you write a mental rule book to try and reduce the abuse (don't make them angry, don't cry when they're already shouting, don't do this, don't do that, do x but not y), and THAT is your socialization. THAT is everything you know, everything you are, everything you know relationships to be like.

Once you are away from that, you are completely and utterly lost. Even breathing feels like making a mistake, you feel watched, judged, rated, berated, you have them stuck in your fucking head. So you keep sticking to what you know, your behavioural patterns that have kept you safe your entire life.

The problem is that they kept you safe, past tense. In a healthy environment, all of those coping mechanisms are now maladaptive and harm you instead of keeping you safe.

However, breaking out of them and starting from scratch is terrifying. So, so, so terrifying. I live in constant fear, I feel judged and unsafe in my own flat with the curtains shut and the lights on. I feel like I am about to get subjected to another one of his fits for daring to use the stove.

No matter what you do, your body and brain are SCREAMING at you that diverging from what you know will kill you—and then you have to do it anyway.

Do it alone and afraid and awkwardly but DO IT. Otherwise you will always find a way to recreate the environment you grew up in, whether that is people getting into unhealthy relationships and replicating the patterns they know (which Aziraphale does with Crowley, e.g. the push-pull of his affection) or eventually even returning to it because they ruined you, but a part of you is so, so attached to them you just have to try and change them.

Some people can move on from it without going back, but sometimes you need to try and experience that failure for yourself before being able to move on, and that's where Aziraphale is at.

He needs to try and fail to be capable of finally committing to recovering.

So, to summarize this entire shitshow: Yes, Aziraphale experienced emotional neglect and abuse, and while it is different to what Crowley went through and objectively less intense and physical, it is still just as valid and horrid.

Just because a car accident is objectively worse than falling off a bike doesn't mean the biker's pain is unimportant. Both can kill you, both can hurt you, and both deserve to get their injuries treated.

Questions?

#alex answers asks #alex talks good omens #good omens #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale meta #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #heaven is terrible #trauma discussion #long post

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lollytea · 1 year

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Not a day goes by that I don't think about how the Boiling Isles' complete lack of LGBTphobia effects how witches perceive sexuality and gender. Like it's not the only factor but I feel like the fear of societal judgement and internalized prejudice is a huge obstacle in discovering your own orientation.

So with that whole part avoided, I'm imagining that in the process in the Demon Realm is??? Much smoother sailing??? Like you might be a little confused at first but there's no shame tied to that confusion. Nobody is pressured into deciding on a label for themselves because labels don't exist. Thinking you're into boys for a while until realizing you're a lesbian is nbd here. Neither is thinking you're a lesbian and then realzing you're bi. Nobody judges you. Nobody cares. I just think it may provide you with a lot of clarity that you simply couldn't get in the Human Realm.

I've always headcanoned that while straight is considered the "default" in the Human Realm, most witches just assume they're bi/pan until they discover otherwise. (And not in a "bi-normativity" way, which is, wow, a terrible word I just made up there. But more in a "idk what gender I'm into yet. Or any at all. So I'll just say everybody for the moment" way.)

But I feel like, even if there's confusion, a good percentage of witches actually somehow figure themselves out relatively early. Like they'll be little kindergarten girls in Amity's library group who have not experienced romantic attraction yet but they already know that if they're ever gonna get married, it's gonna be another girl, cause nobody ever told them they couldn't. Some figure it out as preteens. Some are teens. It's probably one of the chillest aspects of maturing for them.

It's why I'm so interested in Hunter's little bi patch on his jacket and I love thinking about how he brought himself to this conclusion. Just thinking about a sheltered brainwashed kid like Hunter who feels deeply ashamed over so much about himself but his opinion in regards to sexuality has always being like "yeah boy, girl, neither, whatever, I don't care, I'm too busy hitting bad guys with my stick."

So when Luz finally explains to him and the other kids what sexualities even are, with the names and flags and everything, he just says "Bi" then and there, completely unfazed. This is bonkers to me. I think it's the best headcanon ever. He really does not care. Nobody ever told him that he should. But that being said, he sure does love having a little pride flag. Imagine living your whole life loving scrambled eggs. It's just another mundane part of you. But then suddenly you're transported to a world where you're celebrated for loving scrambled eggs. You've got your own little "I <3 scrambled eggs" badge of honor. You don't understand it. But it makes you feel very special and important. I imagine that's how Hunter feels with his little bi pride patch on his sweater.

#im not trying to cook i swear #im just thinking thoughts #anyway i mostly just mentioned hunter but i love thinking about the other kids too #how they reacted to pride flags and all that. its such a cute thought #i would say that it sucks that they will probably eventually learn about homophobia but #i have a very stubborn headcanon that luz has TRIED to break the news to them about homophobia but they straight up Do Not Believe Her #it just sounds way too ridiculous to them so theyre CONVINCED shes fucking with them #so theyre having a GREAT time in their little world where lgbt pride is universally accepted #gus got so excited over flags!!!#willow chose the pan label for herself because she thinks it fits her but also she likes the funky colours

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qqueenofhades · 9 months

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As much as I love hearing trump getting more charges and would love nothing more than him to get sent to prison, I fear that when he eventually goes to trial, they’re will be some crazy maga nut who could watch him kill their mother and would still claim he’s innocent.

Honestly, I am... not totally sure what y'all want me to say here? I get the fear, believe me, but also, after every Trump indictment, just like clockwork, a lot of Gloomy the Doom Men pop up to pre-emptively insist that it doesn't mean anything, it won't go anywhere, he won't actually be punished, etc. I'm not saying this is that, but it does happen every time, and I just... don't know what I'm supposed to do about it? Is this part of the whole "The System Doesn't Work and Therefore We Are Justified in Not Participating" thing that the online leftists habitually do, or what? Honest question. First it was he'll get re-elected, then it was he will never leave power, then it was the Republicans will win in 2022, then it was he will never get indicted, etc. The goalposts keep shifting so any progress we do make on holding him to account (which is far more than has ever happened to any other American president, including actual war criminal George W. Bush) somehow is "meaningless" and I just?? Don't get it??

First of all, jury selection is a thing, and aims to weed out those who, in this case, are either too vehemently against Trump or too vehemently for him. They want the exact sort of mushy middle voter of which there are far too many in this country, who can be persuaded one way or the other but doesn't have ironclad previous biases. Also, they must have done a good job selecting jurors so far, given that all the grand juries have returned indictments, and at least one of them (the one in NY) had someone who was a fan of conservative talk radio/right wing politics. So if by this you mean one rogue juror will preclude a guilty conviction, that is something that can actually be planned for and prepared, and as I said, all the grand juries seated to hear evidence against Trump so far have returned indictments.

Also, this case has been assigned to U.S. District Judge Tanya Chutkan, who is an Obama appointee and has been willing to sentence J6 defendants harshly in the past. She is widely regarded as competent, fair, and firm, and will not grant any of the bullshit delays that Aileen Cannon the Trump-stooge judge will bend over backward to find for him in the Mar-a-Lago docs case in Florida. So there's a strong possibility this one goes to trial before May 2024, and the judge in this case is neither a Trump judge or a slobbering Trump partisan: indeed, quite the opposite. So I don't think we can assume that she will be so incompetent as to not manage her own trial and/or jury.

Anyway, yes. We don't know what will happen, but similar to the Espionage Act charges he got hit with last time (themselves meriting of a stiff prison sentence) Trump is facing yet more high-level felony charges that come with serious jail time. So how about for now, we don't automatically assume that what will be the most watched and covered trial in a generation will fall apart because of a simple and easily avoidable mistake that even I, a non-lawyer, know how to fix, much less a team of extremely experienced prosecutors who know this has to be absolutely fucking watertight and then some? It will be better on your mental health for the long run and arguably also much more accurate.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #the giant orange monster

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tabithatwo · 10 months

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Do you believe Jackie and Shauna have a codependent relationship in canon? and if you do, who do you think is who in the relationship ("giver"/"taker") dynamic?

i think this is a very interesting and difficult question to parse out, mostly due to the fact that they're teenagers when we see them together. being 18/19 really does mean heightened emotion, less frontal lobe development and therefore less impulse control and ability to moderate our interactions with others, more hormonal imbalance, just a perfect storm of codependency. i say this lovingly, as a lesbian who experienced what its like to be a teenage lesbian and did her fair share of insane shit lol, the type of crazy you can attain as a teenage sapphic is fucking unmatched. there is this deep and unyielding attachment that forms between girls in general at that age and when you add romantic love that spark of crazy easily transitions to a wildfire. i think so many people see themselves in jackie and shauna because it is a more shared experience than we like to admit and the show fucking nails it.

when you're in it, you think that you're the only one feeling that sort of intense obsessive consuming need for a person. often you don't see that the other person wants and needs you just as deeply, because we all do our best to hide what we know isn't acceptable. and its true. that sort of desperation isn't healthy at all. we should all strive to be more comfortable in ourselves and to stop putting all our happiness (not just happiness really, because when you're consumed by someone like that every emotion hinges on them) into external factors, especially one person. but learning to do that is a process. we don't come out ready to do that. it takes time and development and independence that you can't achieve when you're that young.

then we get older and we're embarrassed when we look back on those behaviors. we shove them down and pretend they didn't happen as best we can and we definitely avoid talking about them with other people. i can't tell you the amount of times a rush of just total abject horror at how obsessed i was with my high school best friend, turned homoerotic nightmare, turned girlfriend, turned ex hit me in my mid twenties. like your brain starts kicking in and you just go GOOD GOD!!! what was i THINKING??? but more years pass and time makes the sting of things lighter and now i can talk to her and sometimes (sometimes!) we can broach the really fucking deranged things we did and thought and its weirdly healing and horrifying all at once.

now, idk if you're still with me because that was a long intro that didn't even touch on the topic yet, but i promise i'm getting somewhere:

i think that jackie and shauna are fully and completely dependent on each other. i don't think that there is one giver and one taker. i think that they are a beautiful and tragic example of the crazy obsessive entangled love that happens between young sapphics. for me, watching them and discussing them and writing them is so freeing, because it allows me to actually face the harsh realities of unhealthy dependence.

neither of them could ever be whole without the other. and i don't mean that in a romantic hyperbole-fueled manner. i mean that in a truly horrifying way. i mean that to them functionally, they are girls who have body parts as real as any other, that are unattached from their nervous system. jackie's arms are shauna's arms and shauna's arms are jackie's arms. each girl has two hands that touch and do and create and destroy, without her brain giving the okay. each girl has to watch, as an extension of herself does something that she would never ever allow. when they're apart, when they're fighting and hurting, when shauna goes to sleep in the attic, its as though their lungs and their hearts are in another room.

who gives and who takes is hard to answer in specifics, though the simple answer is both for each. but the best way i can put it is that jackie gives more and more in the tangible real world. she tries to anticipate shauna's every need. she gives her the last bite of food. she gives her everything she has and then some, because jackie's biggest fear is shauna taking a seam-cutter to all the parts of them that are sewn together and becoming a separate entity. jackie squeezes shauna tight in her hands and shauna gives more pieces of her body and soul to their shared cache than she wants to.

shauna has an image of freeing herself from the dependency, but she doesn't like to reckon with herself and she doesn't like to see all the places that she expects jackie to be an extension of herself. so when she tries to make space, shauna doesn't even realize that she's not separating them at all. she's touching where jackie touches and kissing where jackie kisses. she is trying to be jackie, but not truly in a jealously way. not in a way that undermines their romantic love. shauna is trying to be jackie in a way that intensifies their dependence, because even if consciously shauna is aging and trying to forge a path for herself with a new school and a new life, like most of us tend to try and do at that age, shauna is still subconsciously trying to fuse them into one being.

and when jackie dies, shauna absorbs her. because she can be both. she's been practicing for this her entire life.

#shauna shipman #jackie taylor #jackie x shauna #shauna x jackie #jackieshauna #shaunajackie #yellowjackets #asks answered #yellowjackets meta

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easy-revenge · 1 year

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do you think angel refusing to put the dying man out of his misery was out of genuine belief in the suffering of human deaths, and thus his relationship with aki teaches him human compassion? or was it a front for his misery of causing the deaths of humans who go on to haunt him, and thus his relationship with aki(and the foggy memory of his previous lover) teaches him to actualize that compassion? bc he shows mercy to the dying woman in the bomb arc, but before aki shows him compassion by saving his life. tldr what do you think the timeline of realizing compassion is for angel?

oh that's a very nice question.

i kind of always believed that angel's demeanor was to an extent a front to cover the fact that he didn't want to use his power.

im undecided about whether it was a conscious choice or an instinctual response to the unresolved trauma of killing his village.

like, does he not like using his power and uses laziness and cruelty as an excuse for other people or does he feel the guilt creep in every time he's called to fight and found that attributing it to hating humans bc he's a devil is easier for himself?

I don't think he ever truly felt that way about humans. the whole "they deserve to die painful deaths" thing. like even thinking as a devil it would make sense to absorb that dying man's life span since it's useful to him.

it had to be a front, at least to some extent.

to answer ur question, when does the switch flip? when does the mask crack?

it would be clear as day if angel showed mercy to that woman AFTER aki gave up two months to save him.

however as u said, it happens before that. the way i see it, angel and aki had the same effect on each other. and it progressed very quickly as well.

they both have history driving them. aki has lost people, lost himeno and is all the more susceptible to the fear of losing angel as well. angel on the other hand, even though he doesn't remember it, must still be experiencing the grief and guilt of what makima made him do. lots of loss there too.

they aren't new to compassion. the barriers were weak even though neither would admit it. so they bring each other's walls down easily enough.

aki reminds angel of his past lover and the ppl of his village, bc even begrudgingly, he's kind to angel. he in turn reminds aki of himeno for obvious reasons. even if in their brains just being aki and angel isn't enough yet, their histories get them there.

so, angel is compassionate to that dying woman, letting his affection for humans slip through the cracks. soon after, aki gives up two months to save him. same as he did when he drew the curse's sword to save himeno. only now it's for this partner he barely knows, who is a devil on top of everything else.

i dont think there was a distinct switch flip for either of them. i think their stories, their relationship to each other and the parallels between them took them slowly but surely from being "natural enemies" all the way to the hospital scene, where they both confess to wanting to do everything in their power to keep each other alive.

a tale as old as time, but it's so gratifying how it works so so well with both their characters separately. they rly came around to finding lost pieces of themselves through each other and i love that.

#akiangel #aki hayakawa #angel devil #chainsaw man #answered #chainsaw man manga #chainsaw man analysis

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harrysmimi · 1 year

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Okay this time I’m actually requesting Mimi!

Could I possibly request Harry with a really insecure reader that had a rough childhood? Like they blame themselves for something that their parent did and Harry sees them in one of their breakdowns?

I’m kinda having similar problems rn and all I want is for Harry to comfort me😭

If this is too much I totally understand ❤️

I hope this one tries to meet your expectations, hope I didn't went too far with the trauma 💀

And I am really sorry it took me so long to post this.

Everything Is Going To Be Fine

Synopsis: One where Harry finds YN in one of her breakdowns

CW: Cheating, controlling parents, being forced to stay closeted.

More of my work

Harry's recent move to his new flat, came with both negative and positive attributes to it.

First the positives, he's now entitled to all his privacy as he should be, this place isn't a public affair, he's made good friends with his neighbour.

So good friends that it becomes negative. Well, least to say he's fallen in love. Why would be a negative thing one might ask? The woman he fell in love with is already married. It's a different story that she seems to be very unhappy, that doesn't change the fact he is basically a homewrecker now.

Or at least he thought he was. All three years of him living there, he found the beginning of this new year the hardest pill to swallow.

YN, is her name. An over working Doctor with a six month old, stuck in marriage whare she is just very unhappy; her words not his.

It didn't took her long to open upto him when he approached her with open arms of vulnerability. It barely took her a week to talk about how not satisfied she is with her life.

Her husband, Rohan is always on business trips, which is pretty self-explanatory as to what his business must be all about. YN on the other hand worked twice as hard to fend for herself, and now the newest member of her family.

He never knew she was pregnant until he started hearing cried and little noises next door. Sometimes at three in the morning.

Harry has just been so confused of her shutting him out all of a sudden. Now he hardly sees her around.

He's just so confused, he doesn't see her son around. Like ever!

Today though, he was hearing loud bickering booming through the thin walls. Once voice particularly belonged to YN and other he had no idea, but all he could make that there was another woman. Harry doesn't mean to listen to the argument but it was getting louder and louder, the voice traveling to the main door. The slammed shut and he could hear a male voice arguing back to her.

......................................................................

YN was having a bad week, thirty hour shift, eight hours before she has yet another twenty-four hour shift. Her first week back to work after her unexpected childbirth. Her mother coming over to drop her son off just for her to bicker with her daughter.

You see, YN never wanted to be become a doctor. She just wanted to get a corporate job and just live.

Neither she wanted to marry this soon. She was still in medical College when her parents lured her into their idea of her to get married. Well, long story short, she was married off to a closeted gay man.

Yeah, that's nasty!

Whilst homophobia is still a thing, YN was far more ahead of her family's mind set. Thanks to her career education, the traditions she grew up with failed to influence her. Whilst she had became good friends with her husband, it was a hard pill to swallow for her.

She had no idea about all this, up until the night she got married. She in fact started to fall for him. She experienced all of this first hand with career, so she had some empathy for the guy she was forcefully married so.

It took her long enough to realise his selfish agendas really. Six months into their marriage, he asked for their relationship (which has always been platonic from his end) to be an open one. Whilst Rohan was having multiple affairs with men all around London, he was still technically cheating on her, and she wasn't a saint herself.

YN had gotten over it long time ago. Well, she can't change anything. Her only option is to get a divorce which she was considering until she had a baby she didn't know she was going to have. It was going to be pain to get up on her feet, with bills, taxes, a student loan to be paid for, and a child to look after.

Well, one positive thing in her life has been her son, Niko. He's the light and joy for her after long tiring shifts at work. All that crying, pooping, peeing and puke, all those laughs and play time seemed worth it to her. That's the only thing she can have a choice on now, to be a good mother. But she has to leave him at either day care or at her mother's.

To cut to the chase, Niko isn't Rohan's child.

"This is why, I told you to talk your head. You can't satisfy your husband at least try to be your son!" Her mother accused her.

"Maa, if you don't want to look after him, then say so. I'll find other ways. You don't have to have a say in my marriage." YN warned her mother, trying her best not lash out.

It is not a secret to either of their parents that Rohan is having affairs. With whom it was still a mystery but they knew. It infuriated YN's mother, because she's apparently doing something wrong that her husband has to find ways to "satisfy his needs". It was their parents business inevitably as it was an old fashioned arranged marriage.

"You need to get your attitude fixed!" Her mother hissed at her, "what? Are you influence by those people?"

YN scoffed, "how did I had a baby if I was one of those people? I can't believe you Maa. Please just leave."

"Yeah, that isn't your husband's child, is he?" He mother finally confessed. "The father doesn't know about it, does he?"

"Wha- what makes you say that?" Rohan finally butted in.

"Why are you cheating on my daughter then?" YN's mum dead panned, "does it look like you even a bit? He doesn't even look like his mother for gods sake!"

"Enough Maa!" YN raised her voice, "you don't question the legitimacy of my son. It doesn't concern you one bit!"

"If, if you would have been a good wife then, then I wouldn't have said that." Her mother stuttered. YN looked at Rohan gor him to say something but he kept his mouth shut and walked to the nursery where Niko was fast asleep. "You should quit being a whore and sleep around with other men-"

"Get out." YN sighed, interrupting her mother.

"What?"

"I said get out, I don't want you here or in my life anymore!" YN raised her voice again. "I don't want you here anymore!"

"Have you no respect?" Her mother gasped, "I gave birth to you, brought you up, you're going to disrespect me like this?"

"When have you respected me?" YN couldn't help but cry in the moment, she's been bottling up her feelings for way too long, "you always signed me up things I never wanted to do! I never wanted to be a doctor, but I did anyway because I thought you'd be proud of me for at least one thing, you'll hug me finally. But you never did. You even managed to force me to get married to someone you found would be compatible for me." She laughed sarcastically, that's only way she can get a laugh anyway. She made her way to the door and opened it for her mother. "look where I ended up now! I don't want you to have a say in my life anymore."

"You need to learn to respect your elders and your husband, young lady!"

"He's Gay, maa!" She exclaimed. "What the fuck is wrong with you? All my life you've made decisions on my behalf, against my will. Now I won't let you do that anymore. Get out. Please."

"YN you're—"

"Leave, I said!" The last time YN yelled before her mother left. She went back and in dragged her husband out of the nursery room.

"Pack a bag and leave my house now." She told him.

"What?" Rohan scoffed in disbelief, "where am I supposed to go?"

"I don't know, I'll send you the divorce papers." She snapped, "to any of your little flings out there!"

"You're being completely unreasonable!" He raised his voice, "you know it's not safe for me for get a divorce. My parents are already suspicious of me being homosexual."

"I don't care."

"You're being homophobic here, YN. Come on, we can work it out. You can go back yo your lover whom you had that kid with. Isn't that his kid?"

"That kid is my son, keep him out of your filthy mouth, you asshole!" She raised her voice as well, "everytime you have a little inconvenience you put that label on me. I won't let you do that because I have been nothing but supportive you because I see people everyday. You have no fucking sympathy towards me, not even as a human let alone as your best friend I used to be! So now get out of my house."

"I pay half of the bills." Was his argument.

"And this place is mine, I'm paying the mortgage!" She screamed at him, "now get the fuck out of here before I-"

"Okay, okay!" He raised his hands up in defeat just to see her all red, screaming with the TV remote in her hand.

YN hardly ever gets angry. She had learnt to suppress her feelings inside, bottle it up real good. But she snapped today.

"GET OUT!" she yelled at him again, waking her baby up by accident. Whilst Rohan just ran to the other room to gather his stuff YN made a run to the nursery room, which had also been her room since day one now.

She picked up her crying baby and tried to rock him back to sleep.

......................................................................

Harry was growing worried as the time went on.

His mind and heart was next door whilst his physical self was in his own flat. He wasn't able to get over her, especially since she lives next door, especially when he can feel her presence around him. He knew there was something big she was hiding. Especially when she tried to approach him after not seeing him for four months.

It gave him weird heebie-jeebies inside his stomach.

He'd fallen in love with her. And she has fallen in love with him. They both confessed. Had little dates at his place whenever her schedule allowed. He cooked her all her favourite meals even when he didn't know how to make them, they danced in his kitchen, they watched The Notebook together a hundred times and cried every time. And they made love. Sometimes...

He scurried through his pile of laundry he haven't gotten to fold yet to look for his phone. When the screaming got louder and a baby started crying loudly. He dialled in YN's number to call her.

She didn't answer it.

He waited. He waited for next twenty minutes before he was heading out the door to find her husband leaving the flat with a suitcase. No questions asked the man just left.

Harry's heart dropped to his stomach right there. Did he break her marriage? Was he the reason for all the screaming and a baby crying?

He shouldn't have been involved in the first place. Fall for someone who's already committed.

Wasn't his fault entirely, he was still in wrong.

He carefully opened the door go inside. Everything was in it's place. Three plates of food left on the dining table, barely touched. And there he saw YN walking out of her bedroom, closing the door behind her carefully.

"YN, what happened I heard scream-" he was cut off when she threw herself into his arms and started sobbing uncontrollably into hus chest. "Hey, hey, I'm here."

Harry was in utter surprise there. His heart was thumping out of control in his chest as he held a shaking girl in his arms. Best he could do was lower both of them down to the floor. "Hey, hey YN do you want to talk to me? What happened, angel"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" She kept chanting, "I'm sorry!"

"Do you want to tell me why you're sorry, love, hmm?" He carefully pulled her away to look at her puffy red eyes, "what happened, darling?" Holding onto her face in palm of his hands he swiped away the over flow of tears.

"I don't know, I'm sorry!" She cried, holding onto his hands.

"It's alright, yeah?" He pulled her in a hug again. He stayed there to let her just cry her heart out. After all he'd never seen her cry, apart from watching The Notebook. She didn't even cry telling him about her marriage. His Shirt was definitely damp from her tears. "Hey, you alright love?" He looked down, "you want to go sit on the sofa?"

Before letting her protest for anything he was getting both of them off of the cold floor and walking to the sofa. He make a quick run to the kitchen for a glass of water. She was still crying but not sobbing.

"This was all my fault, I am so sorry your sleep, sleep was disturbed." YN stuttered in a low voice.

Harry took away the glass of water from her as she scooted closer to her, knees touching together. "Wasn't asleep. What happened?"

"It's uhhhh... It's nothing really. It was my fault. Had an argument with, with my mother," she chocked on her words trying to get words out of her mouth, "and then with, with Rohan. And then Niko started crying... I just-" she let out another sob.

"Hey, no it's okay. It wasn't your fault." He assured her, grabbing onto her hands carefully. "I don't want you getting sick, my love. It's okay!"

"Mhmm." She nodded.

"C'mere," he pulled her in his arms again, "my shirt is damp now." And he tried to joke but no reaction from her side, "how is Niko, hmm?"

"Good." Was her one word answer, before she pulled away from him to sit up straight. "I want to tell you something."

"Go on, I'm all ears." He looked at her, she was trying to not look at him. He was scared.

"Please tell me you won't be mad at me?" She asked, looking more scared that he was in the moment. "Please?"

"YN, I-" he sighed in defeat because he can't decide how he would feel, but to put her at ease, "okay."

"I didn't know about this, okay?" She started, "I promise I would have told you. I didn't know myself. Niko is yours."

And there it was nuclear bomb on emotions being dropped straight on his head.

"What?" Was all he could say.

"I can explain. Please, please don't be mad at me!" She begged before he could say anything else.

"How did you not know?" He was in disbelief.

"I don't know." She shook her head, "trust me please, he is yours, I, I wasn't sleeping with anyone but you and I didn't know that I was pregnant, I, I fell down the stairs at, at work and next thing I knew they were telling me I'm pregnant because I was having a load of pain in my stomach and, and I was bleeding heavily I, I didn't know what to do and then I went into cardiac arrest after, after he was out I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Harry, I'm sorry, please trust me, please-"

"Hey, look at me." He stopped her before she went back into panic, "I trust you, okay? I don't want you to panic, alright? Need you to tell me everything. I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"Mhmm, promise, my love." He placed a tender kiss on her forehead, "can I see him?"

"Mhmm!" She nodded her head jerkingly. Grabbing his hand she walked them to her bedroom.

There he was, fast asleep. All swaddled up in his little by her bed. A little beanie with cat ears on his head.

"He's so precious!" Harry whispered quietly to himself.

YN wanted to cry all over again. It was all true. Sleep deprived she was going back to her office with a cup of overfilled coffee up, dropping half of it has she walked down the stairs. Slipping on the coffee on the stairs she fell flat on her ass, hitting her head on the wall. Causing her to feel a shooting pain down and back and through her pelvic floor. Luckily a nurse saw her and escorted her to the ER then and there.

In that moment YN was grateful, she worked there. She could feel herself bleeding and intense cramp building up within half an hour. The nurse, who was also her friend has examined her, ordering an ultrasound stat. Because she was bleeding out so badly. That's how YN found out she was pregnant.

Niko was predicted to be about three and half weeks premature. They had to keep him in the NICU for three months and her for more two and half months. She had more than a bump on her forehead.

"Can I hold him?" YN froze into her place behind him. She didn't had the heart to tell him that the little boy would wake up inevitably and cry the whole time. "Would he wake up?"

"Yeah."

"It's okay, don't want him crying and making himself miserable." He looked back at the boy, the pad of his thumb running feathery touches on the baby's soft cheeks. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be there with you, YN."

"You didn't know, I didn't tell you." YN carefully sat next to him on the edge of her bed. "I should be sorry here."

"No-" he stopped as he heard Niko fuss for a second, "let's go out and talk, yeah?"

"Hmm." She followed him out. "I'm sorry."

"Stop saying sorry." He warned her, "you didn't not mean to hide it. We've been around each other for three years now YN, I've gotten to know you very well!"

"This isn't fair for you. I should have told you months ago, after I was out of the hospital." She shared, "I take the blame, I just didn't know how to say this to you, I wasn't in right mindset. I'm still not and I could have told you this in a better way, I was scared. I'm sure you're upset and mad at me, I'm sorry!"

"Am I upset? Yes. But with you? No, not at all, I'm upset at the situation which is right now. I love you, remember?"

"Mhmm." She nodded. "I don't know what to do now. I'm sorry!"

"Hey, first of all I want you to stop saying sorry, okay?" He said firmly, "and we'll figure it out. Does, does your husband know about this?"

"Mhmm, he doesn't care." She held back a cry as she looked at him directly in his eyes, "I've asked him to sign the divorce papers many times but he just won't. I just don't know what to do anymore! I'm so tired of everything!"

"Like I said, we'll figure it out, yeah?" He assured her, "we'll do it together, I promise! I'm just shocked why wouldn't he care?"

"He's gay, Harry." She blurted out, "he said yes to marry me because he can't come out to his parents. His family back home... He'll be in so much trouble. It's life or death situation for him, he married me just to use me. I never wanted to marry this soon."

"This is so wrong." He ran a heavy hand through his hair, "this is so wrong!"

"I know." She nodded. But her demeanor changed, "oh my god, I blurted that out in front of my mum. On my god!"

"Hey, hey love. Look at me." He stopped her then and there, "everything is going to be fine."

YN had known Harry for well over three years now, he doesn't hold grudges against people. This time perhaps, she think he might. She sort of hid his child away from him.

Yeah, be was stuck in the hospital for well about three months, but she wasted three out. He missed out so much of the little boy's life already.

As far as she knew and experienced first hand whilst her residency, that almost all of the parents cherish these moments. YN felt so guilty of it. But she was scared.

She was scared because she thought there'd be chances Harry might fight gor custody. To which he has full rights to. He can still do that, but at least she out of the emotionally draining marriage and be there for someone who came out of literally nowhere.

YN knew all along she doesn't want to have any kids of her own, because she doesn't want to put another life through hell her parents put her through. Not even unknowingly. But did she had much choice though?

Yeah, she could have opted for adoption then and there, but she feared Harry. He's got the money, he can hire the best lawyer out there and drag her to the court. If he was evil enough to do so. But who knows? He might be that evil. She's had no good experience dealing with people to trust anyone so blindly, ever!

She was pulled out of her brain going through shit storm when she felt his hands slipping away from hers. "No, please don't go!"

"I'm not going anywhere." He assured her, "just gonna go lock up my door first, yeah? I'll be back in a minute. I want you to go lie in bed, okay?"

"Mhmm." She nodded in agreement.

Maybe she'll have to trust someone for this last time. He'll come around, right?

......................................................................

"Look at him. He's a fast learner, isn't he?" Harry chuckled watching Niko waddle down to the shore. "Just like his Mumma."

A sunny day in California. The Styles family on a vacation. Niko has just learnt to walk at eleven months old.

They have started to get their lives together. Now they live together in London, building up a new home, healing up together, raising Niko together.

"Go after him!" YN pushed him as the baby dressed in nothing but a diaper basically waddle running towards the shore, closer and closer.

"Where do you think you're going?" Harry scooped up the chubby baby throwing him over his one shoulder. "Do you want to go in the water? It'll be safer with Papa with you, wouldn't it? You can go venture around when you're old enough..."

She watched them play in the water. The game was running towards the waves as they retract to the ocean and running back away from it as they come gushing back out. Niko was laughing his heart out clung to his dad like a baby monkey.

Well, maybe they're both monkeys afterall. The little lad has gotten to be like his father the more time they spend together. He gets himself into things he shouldn't, just yet.

All in all, Harry turned to be the nice one.

He said he'd never held any grudge against her for basically hiding Niko from him. He's healing too and he's forgiven her; that's what he said to her. Maybe she needs time to forgive herself for that.

She signed herself up for therapy the very next day, it has been working wonders for her. She got out of her marriage. Everything is starting to be fine.

She just needs forgive herself.

......................................................................

N O T E:

Pls forgive me if this sucked. I've been going through another writers block and I have a load of shite going on in my life rn. It's hard to deal with (That's what she said!).

Pls, pls lemme know how you liked it. And I promise I'll get to your requests ASAP as possible.

......................................................................

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @theroosterswife24 @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @japanchrry @onlyangelrain @originalsoulcollector @harrysgirl-1d @lomlhstyles @im-an-overthinker

Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

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improbable-outset · 2 years

Note

Yan!2bhank x reader headcanons (if not headcanons then anything else)

Thanks!

Hi luv, I’m going to write a fic for this instead. I’m not good with the whole headcannons lol. I hope that’s ok with you and sorry it took so long.

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲

Hank J. Wimbledon x 2BDamned x gn!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k

MadCom Masterlist | AO3 | 🅿️laylist

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Yandere themes, possessive behaviour, slight manipulation, mentions of violence. POV switches !!

𝐀/𝐍: I’m not gonna lie, this was was a bit of a waffler 💀 I feel like I’ve added some extra unnecessary stuff. But whateva, here’s your food ! Also, I may or may not have nitpicked some of your head cannons here girl, @saltymongoose I keep tagging you bro I’m sorry 🫣🫣

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You just can’t get out of their heads, no matter how hard they try.

It’s hard to pinpoint when it actually happened - when things really clicked in their heads. From the first moment when they met you until now, it all felt like a blur. The initial spark was so small in their disruptive, chaotic lives, Hank and 2BDamned didn’t register it as significant at first until they’ve fallen too deep into the rabbit hole. They didn’t realise the magnitude of the situation until it was too late.

They questioned if their attraction to you started when you initially came into their lives. Their first impression of you was surprisingly sweet considering how merciless Nevada was. It’s easy to argue that it was irrational, after all, love at first sight is just outrageous and impossible, right? How can you just look at someone and confidently say with your chest, that they have your whole heart? No, but this felt real and you couldn’t really blame them for falling so quickly. Especially, when neither of them have ever experienced these intense feelings for anyone. You never left their minds even in the most dire circumstances. They always caught themselves thinking about what you were up to and planning on how they were going to have you for themselves.

Hank's life was full of violence and intrusive thoughts to kill whoever was in his way, which probably explained the impulsive desire to claim you and to get rid of anyone who stood between him, 2B and you. 2B was always cooped up with his work, eyes glued to his tablet and being surrounded by rowdy, violent men (Hank mostly), so meeting someone that was lighthearted and attractive like you was a little overwhelming at first. He felt powerless under your afable comportment. His stonic persona quickly turned to mush with you around, just like his heart.

“Doc.” Hank lowered himself so he was levelled with the medic who was working on another report, his raspy voice getting his attention. “Do you love them, Doc?” It’s not at all strange that 2B knew exactly who Hank was referring to. Despite the amount of disagreements they’ve had and how much they’ve screamed at each other, they both shared a connection and understand each other pretty well, which also included their in-tuned feelings they have for you.

“Yes, I believe I do.” It took a little longer for 2B to be completely infatuated by you than it did with Hank. Before he decided to act on those feelings, he tried to weigh out the pros and cons and figure out how things were going to work since having a relationship in Nevada was pretty risky now; being too attached and then losing you was the last thing that he wanted and overall, analysed everything just as he always did with any situation before making a logical conclusion - but he didn’t realise that his feelings were only getting deeper the more he pondered about you. All of his senses evaporated like the smoke from Deimos’ cigarettes.

“I think I love them too,” Hank simply replied back. Straightforward yet weighed a lot of meaning.

They absolutely devoured those moments they have alone with you but things were starting to get a little frustrating and they couldn’t wait any longer to see you again. The nagging urge to steal you away was getting out of control. They concluded that they had to have you with them every second of the day, not only because it brings them satisfaction, but they could have some ease knowing that no one else could try and take you away. They were the only company that you needed and could feel safe around and they needed to embed that into your head if this relationship was going to work.

Imagine having two dangerous grunts, that were capable of murder, completely fawn over you. To have them completely wrapped around your fingers. A few would probably think it’ll be a dream having someone obsessed with your existence. You'd think having a duo kill and leave a trail of bodies in their wake for you will give you a sense of security and protection. But what would even cause this? How would you even end up in a situation as drastic as this? You didn’t have to think too deeply when you had Hank J. Wimbledon and 2BDamned embraced you from both sides, nestling you in their arms.

There was the strong smell of disinfectant coming from 2B that mixed with the vile stench of blood from Hank hitting the back of your throat - a vast contrast to the dull asphalt outside, though you’d much rather be stuck with the latter because now you were feeling queasy from the sickly sweet smell. If Doc was busy with his work, there was always Hank cuddling you and keeping you from squirming away. If Hank was away in another raid, you’d have 2B with you. It was either one or the other, or even both, just always there.

Speaking of, you spent most of your days now inside Doc’s private room. You were told that enemies were always lurking and never know when they were going to strike. They couldn’t risk losing you and though it did sound endearing at first, you were starting to feel a little claustrophobic being inside one room all day.

You would always hear muffled voices, most likely from other mercenaries, outside your room but you never saw their faces. It’s not like they didn’t know you were there. They knew about your existence, they just didn’t know why they didn’t see you often. People tend to fear what they don’t understand and they will make up a scenario that could answer their questions, even if it is the most outrageous thing you’ve ever heard, which meant there were rumours about you. You could understand why everyone was confused but you didn’t understand why they had to spread rumours about you. It was agonising to hear even from inside the room.

Doc noticed how dejected you were feeling first. You were abnormally quiet and not so outgoing as you were before. At least someone wasn’t too blinded by love to not notice. You expected them to ask you why you were feeling so gloomy but instead, Doc instructed that you could leave the room and go outside but only when Hank was around so he could supervise you. It wasn’t what you expected but it was a drastic improvement to just staying inside and cuddling. At least you didn’t have to worry about the prying eyes of the other suspicious mercenaries with Hank's death stare scaring them away.

It made you feel somewhat better that you had a mass-murderer with you that wasn’t planning on killing you anytime soon. Perhaps you should accept your fate now if you want to stay alive.

Feedback is appreciated

#madness combat #madness combat x reader #MadCom #madcom x reader #hank j wimbleton x reader #hank x reader #hank j. wimbleton x reader #hank j. wimbleton #hank madness combat #2bdamned x reader #2bdamned madness combat #2bdamned madcom #madness combat 2bdammed #2bdamned #ayrus answers #ayrus writes

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shadowqueen402 · 1 year

Text

Balan Wonderworld TV Show Summaries (Season 3)

Here are the summaries of Season 3 if Balan Wonderworld were to become a TV show.

The Show Must Go On!: When a few of the cast members get sick, Leo and Haoyu offer to take to their places…only, neither of them are good at acting.

Hot, Hot, Hot: Summer is here and already all of Highland Isle is experiencing a black-out. How will they deal with this?

Emma Has A What!?: Leo hears rumors of Emma dating someone in school. And it's bad enough that he gets jealous easily. Who is this boy that Emma is allegedly dating?

Sweet Tooth: Leo's favorite dessert ends up giving him a terrible toothache. The only way he could have it treated is by facing his worst fear—going to the dentist.

Klepto-Kitty: Cass's kitten loves giving her presents, though the presents she gives her are stuff that she stole from the others…

Seaside Serenade: Haoyu wants to write a serenade for Fiona so that he could confess to her, but writing songs prove to be a lot harder than he anticipated.

Memory Loss: During his fight with NiGHTS, Reala accidentally hits his head and loses his memory. Will he be able to get his memory back?

The Case Of The Strange Fertilizer: Someone leaves a package for Jose, containing a brand of fertilizer that he's never heard of. But as soon as Jose uses it, funny things happen to his crops.

John And Jane Doe: Iben encounters a man and a woman who claim to be relatives of her. Later on, news spread around about an unidentified couple who are actually scam artists…

Butterfly Bestie: Yuri finds an injured butterfly and nurses it back to health. But when she tries to let it go, the butterfly won't leave.

Raggedy—NiGHTS and Reala!?: NiGHTS's and Reala's fight causes them to get caught in the middle of a spell, transforming them into…cute dolls. Will they be able to change back to their usual selves before Wizeman finds out?

Welcome To The World Of Art: Lucy finds a beautiful sculpture of herself in her stage that she could have sworn wasn't there before. But everyday, the sculpture's position changes…

The Wager: Balan and Lance make a bet on whether or not Sana and Eis would fall for each other.

Shopping Spree!: Leo and Haoyu learn the hard (and hilarious) way on what happens when they tag along with Emma when it comes to shopping.

Balan's Wonderworld Juice: Balan always keeps a stash of his "Wonderworld Juice" as he likes to call it. But what happens when NiGHTS takes a swig of it?

NiGHTS's New Ability?: NiGHTS's decision in taking a power tablet causes them to gain a new ability. The question is: what ability did they gain?

A Present For Cal: With his birthday coming up, Lucy wants to get him the best present ever. So she decides to try her hand at sculpting.

Saturday Is For Chores: Just when NiGHTS believes they could relax on a Saturday, they find themselves doing the one thing that they hate the most: chores.

Silly Lance!: After accidentally eating some catnip, Lance starts to behave…like a playful and mischievous kitten.

The New Girl: A new girl moves into Leo's neighborhood. Yet, she's rarely seen in public…

Attilio And The Search For Daisy: When Cass's kitten goes missing, Attilio offers to help her look for Daisy.

Prank Wars: Both Balan and NiGHTS love pranks. So they both decide to start a prank war, inviting everyone to join them.

What do you think of these episodes?

#balan wonderworld #nights sega #crossover

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darkcircles4lyfe · 2 years

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I always love your analysis and I was kinda curious on your thoughts on a certain topic! We know when talking about black whip going out of control, Izuku trails off and doesn’t talk about what activated it. Do you think he’s *consciously* intentionally pushing down his feelings and beating around the bush, or moreso is literally oblivious to what the true cause is? I know us bkdks tend to assume he’s being dodgy but i recently saw someone point out how he seems to actually *forget* his trauma and now I’m wondering if he really is more clueless than we think (we as an audience get to see the pattern, but every other time he’s lost control because of katsuki OTHER than black whip has been a traumatic event)

Ooooo I love this question thank you for asking.

Since the day I saw the apology chapter, I always thought Izuku forgetting what Katsuki said to him in his sacrifice must be because of the trauma. However the blackwhip thing was a whole other scenario and I find myself asking, was that really traumatic in the same way? He lost control, he experienced a powerful flood of emotions, and then he had to bottle them up for safety’s sake. That certainly does sound a lot like the pattern of trauma. The only thing is, he doesn’t show any signs of forgetting the event, especially considering he keeps having flashbacks to Banjo’s words. So... idk. Your idea might actually be better summed up by the narration over Toga’s confession about him being oblivious to romantic feelings unless they’re spelled out. Perhaps that could extend to his own feelings as well.

This is somewhat of a tangent to your question, but I have been wondering what Izuku’s mastery of blackwhip implies about the state of his heart. That he has accepted his emotions? Constrained them? Is he even using its full potential? The symbolism remains unclear to me and it bugs me a lot. We know he absorbed Endeavor’s advice about parallel processes and that’s it.

Banjo clearly explained the task ahead of Izuku when he said "it’s okay to get mad. Rage can be the source.” Yet in all the training that follows, we never get to see Izuku take this into consideration at all. He focuses on restraining blackwhip completely and then slowly drawing it out. What I can guess from this is that he ignored the part of Banjo’s advice about anger and instead focused solely on control. Izuku doesn’t like his anger, and perhaps doesn’t want to accept it as a part of himself. For someone who sees themselves as deeply altruistic, anger is like a curse, a liability, a failure. I can guess this because it’s very reminiscent of him inadvertently mimicking even the parts of Katsuki he hates when he feels a drive to win. He claimed he couldn’t tell Katsuki about that either. Why?

The simplest explanation is that his anger triggers most strongly in tandem with his love for Katsuki, since blackwhip activated in response to Katsuki being insulted over a sensitive subject, and because Izuku’s image of victory is in Katsuki, explosive anger included.

But your question asks whether or not Izuku understands this and consciously chooses to avoid it, or if he’s oblivious. Honestly… I hope this doesn’t sound like a cop out, but I think it’s neither. Or, both? In a way? I think he is displaying avoidant behavior, but I want to present a more nuanced picture of what that could be like for him, internally. And I mention the whole anger thing because it’s a more obvious source of shame for him that’s in direct association with Katsuki, rather than say internationalized homophobia, which we haven’t necessarily seen evidence of. It could be that he simply doesn’t know how to express himself about this issue. When he trails off, feigns ignorance, etc, maybe he does so in response to a serious mental block that won’t allow him to tell the truth.

Anon, have you ever held onto a secret so monumental, so personal and so strong, that it physically felt too big to fit out of your mouth? Imagine spending so long pushing something down, you don’t know how to feel it anymore. Imagine wanting to pour your heart out to someone, but not being able to find the words because you can’t even bear to think about it long enough to do any real introspection. And then your habit of lying to compensate becomes so ingrained that it’s like a totally different person is speaking on your behalf, automatically.

I can very easily see how this could happen to Izuku as he has loved Katsuki his whole life, through all the pain and distance and misunderstandings. How else is a person supposed to cope with all that? This all could be the after-effects of a subtler, more constant trauma. Now Katsuki is finally truly open to him (post-apology), and he just doesn’t have the capacity to accept it, as much as he may want to. However that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to overcome. All it takes is the right push.

#I hope I explained that well it’s kinda abstract #bnha manga #bkdk #bakudeku #dkbk #dekubaku #midoriya izuku #bakugou kastuki #bnha meta #lin speaks #asks

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gretchensinister · 1 month

Text

@purplebloodedmajesty also gave me the word "space" when I asked for words. I ended up going in a different direction than I expected, but space is mentioned!

This piece is a fragment of what I’m casually calling the “Garnetting AU.” I want to save most of the explanation for the longer fic, so the things to know for this one: 1) it’s shortly post-movie, Jen, Kira, Aughra, some podlings, and SkekGra and UrGoh are currently at the Castle of the Crystal trying to Deal With All That, 2) the Great Conjunction granted SkekGra and UrGoh a fusion form who is both them and a new person. The fates of certain other parties aren’t defined in this fic and there’s a lot of stuff that isn’t addressed that obviously would be in a longer work.

~*~

“I always wanted to travel through space. Do I not find that aimless desire granted, now that I am the farthest from my origin that I have ever been?” UrGoh’s voice rose and fell as he spoke, as if he were trying to make what he said into a song.

“I knew about the wandering through the stars part, but what do you mean about the rest? Why do you sound like that? And we’re not exactly far from our origin, now.” SkekGra turned and froze when he saw the books in UrGoh’s hands.

One was triangular and made out of some glossy material that neither they, nor Rhoga, nor even Aughra had recognized, but had reluctantly opened to some combination of Rhoga’s hands and breath and voice. It held arrays of symbols that Rhoga could almost recognize and sort of interpret if they didn’t think about it too much. Rhoga didn’t like doing that, though, despite their curiosity, so what they did was make plenty of notes for SkekGra and UrGoh to use when they examined the book. SkekGra intimately understood why Rhoga was uncomfortable with the project. Rhoga was young, and new, and wonderful, and they weren’t the author of this book. At least they hoped they weren’t, and they worried that spending too much time with this book would change them from Rhoga into someone else. SkekGra and UrGoh, on another hand, had crossed a thousand trine, and if even Rhoga and the light of the Great Conjunction hadn’t made them other than themselves, then it seemed unlikely that any book possibly could. SkekGra was still suspicious of it, though. Mostly for UrGoh’s sake. Which was, of course, partly why Rhoga was suspicious of it for their own sake.

The other book was the blank volume that UrGoh had decided to use for Rhoga’s notes. Or, wait, was it Rhoga who had decided to use that book for notes, it was just that UrGoh’s choice had totally aligned with Rhoga’s? SkekGra still wasn’t used to remembering Rhoga-time, or even conceptualizing it. That was all right, though. It was wonderful, wonderful, wonderful to learn. He loved Rhoga just as much as he loved UrGoh. And he loved being Rhoga as much as he’d loved being a young skeksis—maybe even more, even if he couldn’t remember Rhoga’s experiences the way he remembered his own. He thought he’d leave a note to ask Rhoga to write down how they remembered things that SkekGra and UrGoh experienced. Because he really wanted to know what they thought about this.

“That’s—”

“The translation,” UrGoh said. He tilted his head. “The work is almost slower than I can stand. There are complexities that Rhoga has sensed but need an analytic point of view that we don’t share...yet.” He smiled softly. “I wish I could work with them face-to-face. We could work with them. Then again...I have a feeling that between you and Rhoga I wouldn’t get anything done.”

“Rhoga does have a silly tendency to miss you even when they’re happy,” SkekGra said. “I can only imagine what they would be like if they could actually hold you.”

“Well...that all applies to you just as much,” UrGoh said. He paused. “You know...I don’t think Rhoga is in danger from this book...at least not any danger of not being Rhoga. Perhaps the danger is...learning about someone else to miss.”

“Or learning about someone we’re glad is gone—even when he’s not really gone—I—look, what I mean is that all of me came from GraGoh. The Conqueror was already in him.”

“Surely you know by now...that only makes me want to know more?” UrGoh met SkekGra’s eyes. “GraGoh can’t make me love you or Rhoga less, no matter what I find.” He glanced at the more ordinary book. “I want to share this with you.”

SkekGra looked at UrGoh for a long moment. “Well,” he said, “I’ve never said no to anything when you’ve put it like that. And—I can’t forget you were inside GraGoh, too.”

UrGoh motioned SkekGra over to a table where they could sit down. “I haven’t yet figured out if GraGoh or any of the urSkeks would have laughed, been affronted, or even understood the double entendre when you speak of us being inside GraGoh, by the way.”

“Do you expect to?”

UrGoh looked at the urSkek journal thoughtfully. “Yes, I think so.”

“I guess considering all the things we wrote down—all right, what’s—what’s there, so far? And explain it without pauses, won’t you?”

UrGoh looked at SkekGra innocently. “It’s a hard...habit to break.”

SkekGra groaned, and UrGoh reached out and covered his hand with one of his own. “I won’t do it on purpose for this. But I really did get used to thinking and speaking that way...our renewal didn’t undo that.”

“Nothing undone,” SkekGra said. “Ah, fuck it. At least I’ll always know it’s you, talking like that. And my thoughts still race around the place where the nail was. Anyway—so—now—how did GraGoh speak?”

“I don’t know if we can ever know that,” UrGoh said. “The distance between speech and writing...at least this journal was only for GraGoh himself, if the way it was sealed means anything.

“So...the translation is possible because of Rhoga’s...memories, if that’s what they are. Puzzle pieces of the mind...finally fitting together. Their memories link symbol, sound, and meaning. It helps also that we taught each other skeksis and mystic, as both of those share a great deal with the...physical aspects of the urSkek language. Knowing spoken and written ‘Gelfling,’ which is really urSkek-arrival-era Vapran merged with auditory urSkek, also helped. The urSkeks...did not want to keep their way of writing a secret, though I can tell they greatly simplified it in ways that...I doubt were truly necessary.

“What also helps...my memories of how UrAc constructed his chronicles. There was a lingering urSkek sensibility, there.”

“Are you showing off?” SkekGra asked playfully.

“I just want my work to be complete,” UrGoh said.

“Well—you’re making me want to find something I can dig into so I can show off.”

“You were just nervous about this whole project.”

“I—”

“Unless you’re flirting to put off getting to the heart of this…”

“I wasn’t trying to do that, it’s just—” He smiled. “I will always be ridiculous about whatever you do, I guess. Including research. Remember all that prep work to make Lore?”

UrGoh chuckled softly. “I remember...I was the one who accidentally broke your reading glasses...after you made a key breakthrough.”

“My fault for keeping them on. Wanting to see you clear up close.”

“I’m still going to tell you about this translation.”

“Right, right,” SkekGra said, leaning forward, putting his fore elbows on the table, and propping his head in his hands—not neglecting to replace the hand that had been under UrGoh’s with one of his hind ones, of course.

“Cute,” UrGoh said, with a small smile. “Where was I...oh, yes...so, there were many ways that urSkek is still embedded in the languages of Thra. It will take a very long time to go away, if it ever does...if Jen and Kira value connecting to the gelfling of the past in their own language...Aughra hasn’t given them any advice on that but I think she’s ranted to Rhoga about it….

“All this is to say that the structure of urSkek is not nearly as opaque as I first imagined it might be.” He paused. “I imagined the urSkek language littered with inconceivable concepts...relying on shades of meaning too subtle for a mortal mind to distinguish...approaching time in ways I could never comprehend so long as my brain was made of matter. This way of thinking...it helped shield us from GraGoh before the Great Conjunction, and we needed it then. Now, things are different. Even from what little we know...the urSkek are not so incomprehensible. They easily communicated with gelfling. They had opinions on the ways gelfling day-to-day life should be changed and ‘advanced.’ They came from a place with rules, and laws, and customs, and punishments for those who broke them. They have long lives, but each one still has a beginning and an ending...mortals, all. The difficulties in translation instead stem from urSkek senses being very different from ours, and different aesthetics and values. And even so...they were us.”

“So—the way you were almost-singing when you got my attention?”

“My attempt to address what I think are ways of adding emotion and beauty to the text that rely on urSkek senses. Like the figurative and poetic language we use relies on our senses and experiences. I don’t know enough...we, including Rhoga, don’t know enough yet to know the best way to approach that part of the text. So...we may never know if GraGoh was a good writer...but we can know a little about what he thought. About what it was like, for him.”

SkekGra watched UrGoh, who had turned his attention back to the book with the beginning of the translation in it. The urSkek book—GraGoh’s book—rested on the table like any other object. He took a breath, feeling for the hum in his very bones that had steadied him ever since the Great Conjunction, feeling for the shining, pulsing loop of life that was Rhoga in potential, in essence, or both, always present and waiting, just on the other side of a breath, a desire, a choice—especially when he and UrGoh were touching. “I know there’s no reason to be afraid of myself anymore,” he said. “What does GraGoh have to say so far?”

UrGoh smiled, and squeezed the hind hand under his own. Sometimes SkekGra wondered why they hadn’t been fully restored, but when there were moments of such familiarity with UrGoh, he thought he understood. He’d let the light heal him only as much as it could and still leave him UrGoh’s SkekGra.

“‘By the time this record is complete, may it show that my soul is healed and that I may be safely enfolded in the lace of home.’ The word isn’t lace, exactly. I think it’s an idea that I’ll be able to translate better after I see it more. ‘I always wanted to travel through space. Do I not find that aimless desire granted, now that I am the farthest from my origin that I have ever been?’” UrGoh began again. “‘But even traveling into exile felt no different than arriving anywhere else that is connected to our Crystal—like the passing from one room to another, save that we cannot go back. Still—I do feel we are in exile. We lament. I let it flow through me that this seeming-granting of my desire severed me from everything I ever knew.’”

UrGoh paused, and softly hummed an eerie, sad tune for a few seconds. “I don’t know what it should have sounded like,” he said, “but there’s a break in the text that indicates a lament for a still-broken soul. I borrowed the urRu Lament of Repentance. It...helps me understand my translation.

“The text resumes. ‘I do not forget that I am not severed from everything I ever knew. I am with my closest, particular companions. I am still connected with those I held above all else.’ More indications of the lament...I think GraGoh included this when he wrote of something that meant he wasn’t thinking as an urSkek should. ‘This tempers my lament, and makes me feel almost like I have been granted a gift, and not the gift of a duty that will allow all of us, including myself, to correct ourselves. It feels like a gift of honor and joy to be here with my friends. Not everyone felt the way I did, but I had long attempted to imagine what it would be like to leave everything, even the lace, behind. To go beyond our Crystal and discover what existence is like, there.’ I don’t think GraGoh means just the urSkek homeworld crystal, here. There are certain marks that link it to the word I’m translating as ‘lace,’ for now.

“‘I feel that instead of drifting, I am free in a way I could never have conceived within the lace. It overwhelms almost all other feeling, and I suppose I must be patient and careful with my thoughts as I wait for the longing for the lace to return to me, as it must, because after all, I am still urSkek. I know what we are here to do, and the doing will set my thoughts right.’ There are some subtle marks here that are hard for me to interpret, but if I had to guess, they would indicate something about GraGoh not agreeing with the idea that the thoughts he is supposed to correct are actually wrong. ‘For now, the pain waits, and my lament is in an almost unrecognizable key. And I am not the only one. When we disperse—when we are away from those who feel our punishment most keenly, like SoSu—I see that MalVa’s colors approach rapture, and mine probably do as well.’ It’s not ‘see,’ or ‘colors,’ what GraGoh describes here is an urSkek sensory experience.” UrGoh paused and took a deep breath. “‘The world of our exile is astonishing. It is completely unlike homeworld in almost every way, and still I find it beautiful. I didn’t know places like this could exist, and feel so harmonious, while still being entirely wild. Surely there can’t be much work ahead of us to tune this place. I am looking forward to finding out for sure. I imagine passing over every atom of this world, and I thrill at the toil it will be. There are no crystal paths, no memories of others to help me understand what I am seeing more quickly. It will not take endless time to explore one planet, I know, but I feel I have been granted a wonder that is as close to endless as one can be.’ That is as far as I have gotten in the translation,” UrGoh said.

SkekGra lowered his fore hands and wrapped them around UrGoh’s. “There's no point in hesitating to say it, is there? GraGoh sounds like—well, I hear a lot of you, in that.”

“And I hear you,” UrGoh said. “Especially when he’s glad to be in exile with the people he loves.”

“Is love the right word, for urSkeks?”

“I think so...I think that was part of the problem.” UrGoh shook his head. “I can’t help but project everything that tangled up us and the rest of the skeksis and mystics back onto the urSkeks.”

“It makes sense to me. They became us.”

“Still...some of GraGoh’s thoughts remain unfamiliar to me.”

“Conqueror thoughts? I thought I heard a few.”

UrGoh shook his head again. “You showed me the Conqueror. I know what he was like and what happened to every bit of him. I mean...ways of seeing Thra that, truly, neither mystics nor skeksis ever had. Then again...there is so much more to translate.” He met SkekGra’s eyes. “I’m not as fearless as I try to seem...about this translation. But now...we need to know GraGoh. I think I can find him…”

“You found me,” SkekGra said. “And you loved me.”

“It could be a terrible thing...to love GraGoh.”

“Surely only half-terrible, at most,” SkekGra said, giving UrGoh a little smile.

UrGoh turned his hands to cup SkekGra’s and gently press them. “I don’t know what the urSkek homeworld is like,” he said, “but if walking over the ground seemed so wonderful and novel to GraGoh, then I’m glad he had the chance. I’m glad...that stayed.”

“Yes,” SkekGra said. “But you don’t have to act like it’s not uncanny—what we were, what feels like what we could have been, another world, another time—I—I think Rhoga needs to think about this translation. I want to think about this as Rhoga—I need to be Rhoga right now.”

“Breathing as them...knowing their joy as the end,” UrGoh murmured. He left the books on the table and began to walk to SkekGra, who ran up to him before he could take more than two steps.

One embrace. One breath. One being.

“You figure out a triad and suddenly there’s a complicated fourth,” Rhoga said to themselves. “Well, we’ve done that before, too.” They smiled. “Glad I’m less worried about where a book could take me, now. It really didn’t suit me.”

#gragoh #skekgra #urgoh #the dark crystal #the dark crystal: age of resistance #garnetting au #implied malgravagoh lol

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night-wyld-system · 5 months

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You know I finally figured out a way to explain anti-endos and those similar. This applies a lot to systems who throw tantrums about others trauma as well and feel entitled to feeling like their trauma was "the worst" or "all trauma is equal" when neither are ever true.

Crabs in a bucket.

When I used to be involved with a lot of the hate-filled people who spend 24/7 tearing down others online and interacting with discourse in a vitriolic manner this is what I was met with. A lot of systems will just beat each other and pull one another down and try to make them and their situations worse in hopes of it somehow making them feel better and get back up to the top and be free of the hellish narrative they constructed for themselves. Once you get close to freedom and feeling comfortable one of the members will make sure to make you miserable and drag you back down. If you accept reality and feel comfortable that is taking from them because they aren't doing that instead of you.

When I had my therapist advise ways of starting treatment that were right for us as a polyfragmented system we were again dragged down for getting to close to the edge of the bucket. We shouldn't do what she wanted, that would make us happier, freer, it would make us be in a better place than them and they couldn't have that either. So down we were thrown.

When we started realizing we grew up in a cult and wanted to move towards healing the people around us constantly grabbed us and forced us away from any ability to get help or get better. It made them feel so scared and insecure that I could have experienced something that in their own words and actions seemed to be what they genuinely saw as worse than their trauma. (My trauma did inevitably end up being remembered to be worse than theirs* considering I was a slave from ages 3-17 but they didn't know that at the time and neither did we. Though they'll probably get mad that someone is saying being enslaved is infact worse than being abused by your parents.)

*I want to be clear here this is not us saying our trauma is the worst trauma in the world. Our trauma is more severe compared to the people we were interacting with who were tearing us down. (It's possible some have since uncovered their own memories and could in fact have experienced worse). I know many people who objectively have even worse trauma than me. Sure I was trafficked for 15 years but some people get trafficked for 16 or more or until death. Those are worse. I cannot have it "the worst" because that would apply to literally only one person ever and would be impossible to quantify or qualify.

I would consistently align myself with face-eating leopards, go to bat for them, defend them without question or really seeming to comprehend the things I was partaking in. I ate the faces of others and did harm that I have apologized for sense but I cannot fully retract. In the crab bucket I pulled down other crabs in my scramble to the top with hope I would be free and feel better.

And yet every single time I was surprised when my so called friends ate my face too.

Sysmeds don't want to make safe spaces for traumagenic systems either. They don't want to help pwDID or OSDD get better- they just want to make everyone as misreable as they are. I was such an idiot to not see just how clear the comparison between transmedicalists and system medicalists was. I'm glad I broke out of my own stupidty, I'm lucky to have good friends now who helped me get out of that hellhole. And I'm so thankful for my therapist as well for helping me realize I had to cut those people out of my life in order to actually start to recover.

I forget if we had made a statement yet on why we now use the term sysmed when we used to be one of those who saw it as transphobic.. it's simple enough, we were better educated and proven wrong. Our main hang-up had been on implications... ones that were completely destroyed when we were informed that actually yes cis people can have gender dysphoria and be diagnosed with it. All it took was us being educated that gender dysphoria does not always make you trans. Then there was literally no difference between our beliefs when it came to trans people and beliefs when it came to systems. So we accepted the term as the proper descriptor as well.

#syscourse #system stuff #did #plurality #plural #vent #sysmed tw

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czenzo · 2 years

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The Final Applicant

[ao3]

summary: ‘Neat’ and ‘proper’ was far from the kind of vocabulary I would have used to describe her, but I’d have certainly leaned towards ‘experienced’ and ‘a damned well better fit for the role than the last ten applicants’. They’d all arrived in blazers and pencil skirts, and I’d never been particularly fond of standard interview attire – it felt overly formal for a business like mine. My own clothes… notwithstanding, that is.

Lucy's interview, told from Lockwood's point of view.

words: 2832 rating: G

note: all the hype around the official netflix promo stuff has given me l&co tunnel vision and I suddenly went from having zero wips to wayyy too many for my poor brain to handle, but alas!! it got me thinking about the scenes I'm most excited to (hopefully) see in the show, and this interview scene is definitely one of my favourites. despite the fact I have an exam tomorrow I thought it'd be a fun challenge to try and write the interview from lockwood's POV :)

also note that this is chapter six of TSS just rewritten to be in lockwood's pov; all of the dialogue was taken straight from the book and all of the credit for it goes to our beloved mr stroud!

To say it had been a long day was a complete understatement.

Interview after interview, I’d been greeted by smiling hopefuls and cycled through the same few questions with them more times than I could fathom, on account of only a small handful of them actually making significant progress without hightailing it within the first five minutes. It was a rather repetitive day, the monotony of which was only cushioned by my getting to meet an interesting variety of people (albeit only briefly).

It was when a young woman grabbed her belongings and stormed out of the room without being sat down for longer than a couple of minutes or so that I genuinely began to wonder whether we’d ever actually manage to find a decent replacement for Robin; though I’d already placed a bet with George as to whether we had any more applicants due to arrive, so I wasn’t to let go of my last shred of hope just yet.

Still, seeing the blood drain from that girl’s face before she shot me a deadly look and sped out of the living room was not particularly encouraging. Neither was the ear-splitting shriek that erupted from the depths of her lungs beforehand. Though, it was hardly my fault she wasn’t up to scratch.

I’d been so preoccupied with the world’s shortest interview that I hadn’t heard the muffled conversation from the hall straight away, but I soon realised that it must mean another applicant had arrived, so I quickly rose from my seat, reset the items on the table, and inwardly celebrated my defeat over George. Slim chances could stuff it – we had another shot at finding our third employee, and I was going to take it.

George emerged into the room first, followed by what seemed to be the fiftieth young girl I’d seen that day. As I pulled out one of my broad, welcoming smiles, I noticed her eyes dart between me, the table, and the living room decor (which I was particularly fond of, and glad she took a second to take in), and I jumped on the opportunity to quickly give her a once-over.

Now, I’ve never been one for judging books by their covers, but one has to admit that a fair chunk of information can be gleaned from the way a person dresses, preens, and holds themselves. The (presumably) final interviewee of the day had a standard agent’s appearance – perhaps a year, maybe two, younger than George and I, though the deep set of her eyes suggested experience no grown adult would ever know; her hair was cropped short and framed her round face, which was ideal for keeping it out of the way during work and suggested a no-nonsense, dedicated demeanour. She was considerably shorter than I – though I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t expected that of all of the candidates – and wore many dark layers protecting her from the harsh nip of London’s late afternoon weather, along with a pair of boots sporting an array of impressive ectoplasm stains. In short, she looked ready to go out and do some field work right there and then.

‘Neat’ and ‘proper’ was far from the kind of vocabulary I would have used to describe her, but I’d have certainly leaned towards ‘experienced’ and ‘a damned well better fit for the role than the last ten applicants’. They’d all arrived in blazers and pencil skirts, and I’d never been particularly fond of standard interview attire – it felt overly formal for a business like mine. My own clothes… notwithstanding, that is.

After the split second whereupon she scanned the room and I, her, she crossed the room towards me, and the slight far-away look in her eyes told me she used her senses as she did so. An excellent sign of a promising candidate – alert and focused.

She gave a good handshake, too.

“Hello,” I said, still smiling. “I’m Anthony Lockwood.”

“Lucy Carlyle,” was her reply. It was a fitting name.

“Very good to meet you. Tea? Or had George already offered you some?”

George made a vaguely disdaining gesture. “I thought I’d wait until the first test was done,” he said. “See if she was still here. I’ve wasted that many tea bags this morning.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, and instead of retorting with a quip of some kind, upheld my professional demeanour in a way that surely amused George. “Why not give her the benefit of the doubt,” I said, a silent challenge laced in my words, “and go and put the kettle on?”

I was feeling good about Ms Carlyle. George’s scepticism be damned.

“All right." He didn’t seem particularly convinced. Still, he turned and slowly plodded towards the kitchen, adding, "But I reckon she’s a bolter.”

In an attempt to move her attention away from George’s behaviour and back towards the matter at hand, I waved Ms Carlyle towards a chair. “You’ll have to excuse George,” I said as she settled in. “We’ve been interviewing since eight, and he’s getting hungry. He was so convinced the last girl was the final one.”

“Sorry about that,” she said, casting one last glance towards the door. “I’m afraid I haven’t brought you any doughnuts either.”

I paused for a second – how on earth had she known about that? – and shot her a sharp look. “What makes you say that?”

“George told me about your daily deliveries.”

“Oh.” I felt myself deflate ever so slightly. “For a moment there I thought you were psychic.”

“I am.”

“I mean, in an unusual way. Never mind.” I settled down opposite her and smoothed out the papers she’d placed down on the table, skimming through them as I tried to ignore the feeling of her eyes on me. Just as I’d taken in her appearance earlier, it seemed as if she was returning the favour.

Her letter mentioned the Cheviot Hills, and I quizzed her about the famous outbreak there (I distinctly remembered reading it in my Gazetteer of British Hauntings), and the conversation soon meandered into a discussion of her Talent. Listening was her thing, she told me, though Touch often merged with it and her Sight was above average, too. Good. George could do a bit of Listening and Touch, but it was never really his strong suit. That, and the fact I myself am completely and utterly tone-deaf when it comes to Visitors, meant Ms Carlyle was looking to be a good fit.

I couldn’t get my hopes up just yet, however.

We moved onto the topic of her training and qualifications – her lack of final certificates or letter of referral was more than a little unusual, but to be honest, it was far from the most important thing. If she proved well in the tests, we could sort out certificates and the like later on.

“You know, I can’t think what’s keeping George,” I said, knowing full well he was likely stood around in the kitchen, letting the kettle boil but making no moves to prepare any tea. He was waiting for Ms Carlyle to hightail it, but I wasn’t having it. I added, just loud enough for George to hear, “A trained baboon could have made the tea by now. It’s really time for the tests.”

“Yes, what tests are these? If you don’t mind my asking,” Ms Carlyle said, somewhat hasty. There was a hint of agitation – perhaps confusion – in her voice. Chances were, this wasn’t her first interview as of late, which would explain the eye-bags that were beginning to form on her face. (That was always the case with our applicants. After being insulted, belittled, and ultimately rejected from the big-name companies, they’d eventually show up at 35 Portland Row, wondering if they needed a job so badly they’d willingly work alongside two lone teenagers. Admittedly, Lockwood & Co. was never anyone’s first choice.)

“Not at all,” I said, going on to give her a quick rundown. Letters, referrals, certificates… those scraps of paper weren’t held in high regard here; I much preferred to see Talent with my own eyes. I glanced at my watch and reasoned I had enough time to give her a quick briefing about the company before George scooched back in here with the tea.

“Who are your supervisors?” she inevitably asked. “Do I get to meet them too?”

I couldn’t help the flicker of a frown that made its way onto my brow. “No supervisors here. No adults. It’s my company. I’m in charge. George Cubbins is deputy. Some applicants had a problem with this set-up so they didn’t get very far. Does it bother you?”

“Oh no,” she said. “No, I like the sound of it fine.”

Thank heavens for that.

George backed into the living room just in time to cut off any discussion about poor Robin, carrying a tray of three steaming mugs and a plate of biscuits. He looked rather dishevelled, and I made a mental note to interrogate him about it later. “Still here?” he said. “Thought you’d have scarpered by now.”

I held back the easy reply of ‘Shut up, George,’ and instead responded with, “Haven’t done the test yet, George. You’re just in time.”

“Good,” he responded, taking the largest mug and retreating into his usual spot on the sofa.

Mugs were distributed, sugar passed around, and eventually I encouraged Ms Carlyle to take a biscuit, lest George and I inhale them all ourselves.

I took a bite of mine and willed my eagerness to control itself. This was the good bit. “Right. Just a few tests, Ms Carlyle. Nothing to worry about at all. Are you ready?”

“Sure,” she replied, keeping calm and collected despite the two pairs of eyes trained on her.

I started with the make-or-breaker; the concealed skull jar in the middle of the table. I flicked away the spotted handkerchief covering it, and eagerly awaited her reaction. “What do you think this is?” I prompted. Ms Carlyle leaned forward, inspecting the plug and handles, the murky yellow smoke within the glass, and the suggestion of something dark and solid within. She squinted at it.

“It’s silver-glass,” she said. “Made by the Sunrise Corporation.”

I nodded, pleased. Good basic industry knowledge.

She gently tapped the side of the glass with one nail, disturbing the smoke and revealing the rather sad, stained brown skull clamped to the base of the jar. Not a moment later, true to form, the Visitor trapped within pulled one of its classic faces; it rolled its eyes and gaped its mouth, phantom tongue lolling in such an unpleasant way that Ms Carlyle immediately jerked away from the glass. Her Sight was unlikely to be good enough to see the same level of horrific detail my own eyes provided me, but it was sufficient enough to see the basics of the skull’s horrors, which was more than satisfactory in my books.

She also hadn’t shot out of her chair and made a frantic beeline for the front door yet, which was also a good sign. It was here where most interviews had been cut incredibly short.

The ghostly face dispersed and the yellow smoke stilled once more, and Ms Carlyle took a breath and cleared her throat before continuing.

“Well, it’s a ghost-jar. The skull’s the Source, and that ghost is tied to it. Can’t tell what sort. A Phantasm or a Spectre, maybe.” She sat back, seemingly unconcerned, and admittedly it surprised me. My smile froze; it took me a short moment to resume and continue as usual.

“Yes, that’s right. Well done.” I nodded, re-covering the jar with the handkerchief before heaving it up and out of sight.

“She was shaken,” George said between sips of tea. “You could see it.”

“Where did you get the jar?” Ms Carlyle asked, ignoring him just like I had. “I thought only Rotwell and Fittes had them.”

Great question. Moving on, I opened a drawer in the table and pulled out the red box containing George’s toothbrush cup, placing it on the table before her. “Please tell me, if you can, what supernatural resonance you detect here.”

Here was where things could go downhill. As Ms Carlyle took the cup in her hands and ran her fingers around its circumference, I suppressed the urge to recall the – quite frankly, hilarious – tales some previous applicants had spun up. I sat in wait and silently prayed it wouldn’t occur again.

She shook her head, scrunched her face, and turned the cup in her hands some more. Frustration was evident from the tightening of her brow, likely worsened by George’s incessant tea slurping, until eventually she let out a breath and put it back onto the table. “I’m sorry. I can’t detect anything.”

“I should hope not,” I nodded, somewhat gleeful, though I dared not let it show. “This is the cup George keeps his toothbrush in. Good. Onto the next.” I tossed the cup to George, who miraculously caught it. Things really were going smoothly.

It was as I turned my attention back to Ms Carlyle that I realised something was amiss. Her cheeks were flushed an alarmingly bright red, and her hand reached down to firmly grasp the handle of her rucksack before abruptly standing. “I’m not here to be made fun of. I’ll find my own way out.”

“Ooh,” George said. “Feisty.”

Another ‘Shut up, George,’ would have been more than appropriate there, but I resisted. Before I could intervene, Ms Carlyle turned to him with a look so deadly I wondered how George was still breathing.

“That’s right,” she said, nostrils flaring. “Step over here and I’ll show you exactly how feisty I am.”

George blinked. “I might just do that.”

“I don’t see you moving.”

“Well, it’s a deep sofa. It’s taking me a while to get out of it.”

Good Lord. “Hold on, both of you. This is an interview, not a boxing match.” I raised a hand, and threw caution to the wind. “George: shut up.” It was a relief to finally have those words out there, and even more so that George obeyed long enough for me to calm Ms Carlyle down and explain myself. The trick test was a handy part of the interview, and eventually she came to understand this, as she settled back down in her seat and watched as I produced the next three items from the table drawer: my uncle’s knife, the ribbon from the Kensal Green woman, and my personal favourite, Harry Crisp’s watch.

Ms Carlyle spread the three items across the table and picked them up one by one, closing her eyes and carefully turning them this way and that in the same manner as the cup. As the time went by, George buried his head into a comic and became far more engrossed in its pictures than the ongoing tests, though I couldn’t say the same for myself. I’d leant forward far more than I ought to, hands clasped between my knees, expressing perhaps a smidge more interest in Ms Carlyle’s abilities than I had for any other interviewee.

She inspected each item exactly three times before opening her eyes, then took a long swig of her tea, which was surely horrendously cold by then. “Did any of your other applicants get this right?” she said quietly.

I simply smiled at her. “Did you?”

“The echoes were hard to disengage,” she replied, “which I suppose is why you threw them at me all together. They’re all strong, but distinct in quality. Which do you want first?”

“The knife.”

I knew the verdict of the interview before she’d even moved on to the ribbon. Not only was Ms Carlyle headstrong and self-assured, but her Talent was advanced far beyond the rest of the applicant pool, and – despite her minor tiff with George – my gut instinct spoke for itself. She was the perfect fit, and my confidence only grew as she progressed through the items, explaining the sensations she experienced and the information she could glean from them.

It was as she finished and took the final two biscuits that I grimaced. That wouldn’t do, but it was an easy fix.

“Well,” she said finally, breaking the long stretch of silence that ensued. “I guess I know where the door is.”

George read my mind. “Tell her about the biscuit rule.”

Ms Carlyle looked at him. “What?”

“Tell her, Lockwood. We’ll have to get this straight or there’ll be hell to pay.”

I nodded solemnly. “The rule here is that each member of the agency only takes one biscuit at a time in strict rotation. Keeps it fair, keeps it orderly. Nicking two in times of stress just isn’t done.”

“One biscuit at a time?”

“That’s right.”

“You mean to say I’ve got the job?”

It was the start of a new chapter; I resisted the urge to beam at her. “Of course you’ve got the job.”

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood & co fic #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george cubbins #czenzo.fic

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the-drifters · 1 year

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Hello! You said you have a whole ass infodump about the omens and their emotion plus how important they express it. Can I hear your explanation on that? I’m very curious.

Ohh yeah sure!

So like… where do I start uhh-

Lemme start with Dianthus as an example I guess. She starts off very defensive about feeling emotions at all. She states there is no ROOM for her to feel things. Her dialogue on the subject becomes more important for my other points below.

Later on, as she’s around the party, this seems to change. Both Geist and Callistephus shame her over expressing her feelings on at least two occasions. Callistephus says she’s too human, and Geist says her “hope” is a flaw that will lead them to disaster.

Adding onto that, take what’s under the surface in Dianthus and Hydolanzer (the first boss of the game)‘s interactions. Note that Hydolanzer also has a voiced dialogue line that says “Fight well, Dianthus.” She doesn’t WANT to kill Dianthus, but she’s been ordered to.

…I think Cres’s cynical comment on Ein being caught in a “Lover’s Quarrel” between the two Omens is right. Coincidentally. Although there’s a good chance that if there was some sort of romantic tension between Hydolanzer and Dianthus, neither of the two had the understanding which leads me to my next point.

It seems like the Omens have actually been experiencing complex feelings for a very long time, but they repress it. Anyone who acts on them enough to be deemed “dysfunctional” gets wiped and rebooted. Why?

Because their HUMAN CREATORS’ illogical behavior eventually led to their downfall. The Omens have to work toward their goals and serve their masters, but they also kind of look down on them, and project that view onto themselves. They feel shame because they’re afraid of dooming themselves and Humanity toward extinction.

Coming back to Dianthus… she doesn’t seem to be all that well liked by many of her peers for the most part. They make it seem like she’s a black sheep, and Callistephus implies the same for Geist after the other Omens gave up on solving Quietus. Now this is important for Dianthus specifically because… it makes me think her stoicism isn’t just that.

Ever notice how she’s more receptive to snarky comments at her expense than she is compliments? How she shoots down every attempt someone tries to be nice to her? Take some of the break conversations, or when she brings Emily on her airship. I want to say that I think she’s emotionally traumatized. She doesn’t allow herself to be vulnerable until she learns to better understand what she’s feeling in her character story. She loosens up in terms of how she views her relationships with others and how she feels about things toward the end.

And lastly, what does this mean to me? Why’s it so moving for me? Well- it’s because there’s a trait called Alexithymia, which is common in people with certain neurological disabilities (ex: autism) or mental illnesses. Alexithymia means that a person struggles to identify their emotions. Notice how pretty much all of the Omens describe the things they feel as “noise in their circuitry.” They seldom actually label what they feel- because it’s complex, illogical, and new to them. They haven’t learned to understand yet. But in Dianthus’s case, she comes to realize that she can use introspection to at least figure out the meanings behind her feeling and what she wants. And I find that so moving because I experience that too.

So… yeah. That’s my infodump. It’s long but to be fair I have a lot to say. I also have some headcanons which might be in part influencing my analysis but overall it’s just how I view the Omens’ emotions and should be taken with a grain of salt.

#asks #kisetsukaze-central #harvestella #harvestella spoilers #dianthus #geist #long post

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twistedhxart · 5 months

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‘✩’ //i know we haven't been rping dev/lian but i miss them

Who is more likely to raise their voice? - I think neither of them would. They both seem to be so very very calm Who threatens to leave but never actually does? - I can't see how either of them would have an argument like this. And if it came to leaving, they would have to talk about it first Who actually keeps their word and leaves? - See above Who trashes the house? - I think they're both very clean and tidy up everything together. If it came to Lian unleashing the demon inside, it would probably be him lol Do either of them get physical? - Never. At least not intentionally How often do they argue/disagree? - I can't see them arguing tbh. At least not now. Maybe it comes to some arguments in the future? Who is the first to apologise? - Lian! Oh no, Devlin! Damn Idk haha

Sex:

Who is on top? - Devlin Who is on the bottom? - Obviously Lian then Who has the strangest desires? - I don't know if you could call it "strange" but maybe Devlin sometimes has some... kinky desires? Any kinks? - That remains to be seen ;) Who’s dominant in bed? - I think this would be Devlin, although I'm not sure if he's THAT dominant Is head ever in the equation? - Sure If so, who is better at performing it? - Maybe Devlin bc he's... older and therefore more experienced? Ever had sex in public? - No Who moans the most? - Lian haha Who leaves the most marks? - Devlin possibly? Who screams the loudest? - So far, no one has made the other one scream, but that remains to be seen ;D Who is the more experienced of the two? - Devlin I guess? Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? - Make love! Rough or soft? - Soft, soft, soft How long do they usually last? - I have the feeling that they are taking their time, savoring everything ♥ Is protection used? - Not that I know of. Does it ever get boring? - Don't think so Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? - No strange places tried yet ;)

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? - No If so, how many children do your muses want/have? Who is the favorite parent? Who is the authoritative parent? Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Who changes the diapers? Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Who spends the most time with the children? Who packs their lunch boxes? Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Who cleans up after the kids? Who worries the most? Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from?

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? - BOTH Who is the little spoon? - They can take turns, but I think Lian would prefer to be the little spoon ♥ Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? They're both certainly very good at holding back, but still, I see that tendency more in Devlin than Lian Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? - / How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? - They have a loooooong cuddle span Who gives the most kisses? - Lian What is their favourite non-sexual activity? - I see them still going to the gym and working out together. Devlin can show Lian more new tricks and moves or Lian can rest by sitting on Devlin's back while Devlin does push-ups haha Where is their favourite place to cuddle? - On the couch while watching some stuff on TV ♥ Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? - Devlin haha How often do they get time to themselves? - They try to spend as much time together as possible. But sometimes they both have to work, so their only option is to spend the evening together

Sleeping:

Who snores? - Lian doesn't, but does Devlin? :D If both do, who snores the loudest? - / Do they share a bed or sleep separately? - Sharing is caring! ♥ If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? - Of course they are not laying far apart, helloooo?? Who talks in their sleep? - I think they both sometimes do What do they wear to bed? - Lian usually wears a shirt and long or short pajama pants. Maybe Devlin only wears pants? Or maybe nothing at all? :D Are either of your muses insomniacs? - Lian isn't, I'm not sure about Devlin Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? - Not on Lian's side of the bed Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? - If they are extra cuddly limbs are involved :3 Who wakes up with bed hair? - Definitely Lian. He just has the longest of hairs haha Who wakes up first? - Lian usually wakes up early but can definitely sleep a little longer when he's not alone. So maybe Devlin? Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? - Devlin ♥ What is their favourite sleeping position? - Face to face right close to each another or Lian sleeps on Devlin's chest being hold tight aww Who hogs the sheets? - They share :3 Do they set an alarm each night? - It depends on whether and how early they have to get up the next morning. If they have to go to work, they set an alarm in any case Can a television be found in their bedroom? - No Who has nightmares? - I think both have ;-; Who has ridiculous dreams? - Everyone has ridiculous dreams from time to time, right? Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? - Devlin maybe? He's big boy :D Who makes the bed? - Both! What time is bed time? - Again, it depends on whether they have to get up early the next day. But I don't think either of them go to bed too late Any routines/rituals before bed? - None that I know of (atm) Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? - Lian isn't but maybe Devlin? :D

Work:

Who is the busiest? - I think they are both busy so I don't see one of them being busier than the other Who rakes in the highest income? - Devlin probably Are any of your muses unemployed? - No Who takes the most sick days? - I have the feeling that they hardly ever get sick or take sick days just like that. I even think they would still go to work sick <_< Who is more likely to turn up late to work? - Probably both when they got too involved in each other? *smirky smirk face* Who sucks up to their boss? - Neither of them does What are their jobs? Lian is working in a coffee shop and I think Devlin's a paid warrior and does have different clients? :D Who stresses the most? - Lian probably since working in a coffee shop can be v stressful? Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? - Lian does it mostly for the mon mon and Devlin kinda enjoys what he is doing I think? Are your muses financially stable? - I think they are

Home:

Who does the washing? - Devlin Who takes out the trash? - Lian Who does the ironing? - WHO IRONS THESE DAYS?? Who does the cooking? - Lian Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? - Lian can cook very well but I'm not sure about Devlin haha Who is messier? - / Who leaves the toilet roll empty? - Lian when he's lost in thought Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? - Devlin? Bc he does the washing and therefore can just pick up his clothes when it's time to do so? Who forgets to flush the toilet? - / Who is the prankster around the house? - / Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? - Devlin? Bc Lian can't drive haha Who mows the lawn? - Devlin Who answers the telephone? - Devlin Who does the vacuuming? - Lian Who does the groceries? - Both! Who takes the longest to shower? - They both take long when they decide to go shower together ;) Who spends the most time in the bathroom? - They are both v quick when it comes to cleaning themselves and stuff

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? - No How many cars do they own? - One? If Devlin owns a car Do they own their home or do they rent? - They haven't decided yet :D Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? - It depends on what Devlin prefers. Lian is rather the countryside type of guy Do they live in the city or in the country? - If they can manage somehow they live in the country Do they enjoy their surroundings? - Yesssss What’s their song? - OH! I haven't thought about a song for them yet but let me think about it! What do they do when they’re away from each other? - Texting each other even tho Lian's not very skilled when it comes to smartphones Where did they first meet? - In Lian's house when it was about to crash lol How did they first meet? - Devlin saved him from his crashed apartment and told him that he is his assigned advisor ♥ Who spends the most money when out shopping? - Probably Devlin... for Lian aww. He's the kind of guy who likes to give gifts to his loved ones Who’s more likely to flash their assets? - I think they're both very modest, so I can't imagine it with either of them Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? - THEY WILL IMMEDIATELY RUNS FOR THE OTHERS RESCUE AND WORRY IF THEY HURT THEMSELVES ;-; Any mental issues? - They both definitely have mental issues ;/ Who’s terrified of bugs? - / Who kills the spiders around the house? - They don't kill, they set them outside bc they're kind hoomans Their favourite place? - Probably at home and somewhere in nature. Together ♥ Who pays the bills? - Devlin? Bc he has the higher income? But while Devlin pays the rent, for example, Lian pays for the groceries Do they have any fears for their future? - I think so, because nobody knows what will happen when Lian one day regains access to the world where he actually belongs and where his family lives. But they don't think too much about it and try to live in the moment Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? - Devlin with a fancy dinner out in a restaurant and Lian with a fancy dinner at home ♥ Who uses up all of the hot water? - / Who’s the tallest? - Devlin I guess Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? - Devlin haha Who wanders around in their underwear? - Also Dev! Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? - Does Devlin sing? Bc Lian usually doesn't haha What do they tease each other about? - / Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? - / Do they have mutual friends? - Not that I know of Who crushed first? - I think they both had a v BIG crush on each other! Any alcohol or substance related problems? - No Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? - / Who swears the most? - /

#muse #about lian #lian&devlin #pyrokineticwarrior #/aww babies!!

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