#the fact i relate my own anxiety to every member of this family in some level is really concerning but hey let me meme my problems

[princessofmerchants]

Nesta, Bryce, the Mask, and the aftermath - HOFAS chs. 76-77 and the Ember bonus chapter

HOFAS spoilers after the break (this is a long one, lol)

I had an overwhelmingly positive reaction to HOFAS chs. 76-77 when Nesta gives Bryce the Mask, and the Ember / BAM bonus chapter when we see the aftermath on the Prythian side of things. It was fascinating to get on Tumblr and see all the negative reactions on all sides to this set of scenes.

Starting with the bonus chapter, I agree with others (@aelin-godkiller, @myfriendscallmeraba, @maddieimhot) that it is written in character for every person in it.

I'll start with Cassian, because the negative reaction to him in this set of scenes was the most confusing for me. Post-ACOSF, Cassian is one half of a healthy functional romantic partnership and mate pairing with Nesta. These two do not always agree. They learned in ACOSF how to disagree in a healthy manner and how to apologize when it is warranted, and for passionate people like these two, that can happen often. On page in the bonus chapter, Cass is exactly in character as both Nesta's mate (his "Rhys…" makes it clear he thinks his High Lord is emotionally overreacting) and as the General of the Night Court Armies (the fact that he doesn't make an argument to Rhys for Nesta in support of her decision is right in line with this for me).

The only part of the bonus that gave me a pang in relation to Nessian was when Nesta says to Ember that her Mate may be the most angry at her of all, but if that's even the case, I don't think that's because of the potential consequences of the decision Nesta made, but because she made it alone and failed to rely on those around her with complementary power and knowledge to hers. I also think Nesta's comment to Ember is residual evidence of her ongoing struggle with her anxiety... In reality, I'm pretty sure Rhys is more angry about what she did than Cass, y'all. But I also think, just like in ACOSF, Nesta is sometimes an unreliable narrator when it comes to thinking those who love her most are specifically and pointedly mad at her. As a fellow anxiety sufferer, this tracks. And the fact that during the later HOFAS scene when Bryce returns the Mask, Cassian is sitting with Nesta clearly holding no grudges or anger toward his mate (but you bet Rhysand is probably still freaking out somewhere over the Mask being in Midgard with the Asteri, and reasonably so!), tells you Nesta may have been projecting her own worry and even regret onto her mate, the one in the Night Court Inner Circle she is closest to and thus most vulnerable with.

The bonus is also 100% in character for Rhysand, as many have pointed out. I was honestly dying to see Rhys's reactions to Bryce's kind of bizarre, almost aggressively Fae exit from Prythian at the end of "The Drop," so having him bear down on the scene between Nesta and Bryce was peak entertainment for me. But then if we cut to the bonus scene, in Ember's POV we get a Rhysand who is reacting to the possible consequences of a Trove item potentially reaching the hands of the Asteri, by the hand of one with another Trove item in her back that can open the portal between their worlds. I don't disagree with him that this is a huge risk, and as a new father he's probably in protective fight or flight mode all the time.

The thing I think is beautifully in character for Rhys here is the familial development we see between him and Nesta. I don't read this exchange as some kind of regression to their pre-ACOSF animosity. I read it as two family members having more of a family fight than a fight over strategy. In my reading, Rhys is in fact having an emotionally vulnerable response to what just happened, and I think he knows it and is allowing it because Nesta is now family and allowed to see those parts of him. The problem I have always had with Rhys is not that he is messy and imperfect, but it's when those traits play out alongside the fact that he is politically and magically one of the most powerful beings in their world. In a strange way, though, his argument with Nesta that Ember observes is shaped incredibly and beautifully by their developed relationship as brother- and sister-in-law. He is angry and upset but he doesn't throw her into a dungeon, he engages her and shows all his cards in doing so - something he never does with a real enemy.

And, I also read Rhys's emotional reaction in another way which may or may not be a popular reading: Rhys is also throwing a tantrum because his sister-in-law is a power player at his level in the magical conflict that spans from Prythian to other worlds. As a leader who has never had anyone challenge him at that level except perhaps pre-ACOWAR Amren, it's a situation that he is probably still adjusting to. Rhys can't just remove Nesta as a threat, both because she is his sister-in-law and more importantly because she wields powerful magic (that he does not have himself - again, this is the grating part for him I think) as both a resident of the Night Court and mate to his General. And because Rhys isn't on top in all the ways any longer in the way magic shapes events in the Night Court and beyond, he loses it. And I found it very realistic and some of my favorite on-page Rhys material I have read since he plummeted in my esteem in ACOFAS.

Nesta is also in character for me in these scenes, both the HOFAS chapters and the bonus. We see in her words and actions both the (previously) human part of her as well as the Fae warrior part of her. She vacillates between being confident and being chastened, and I think both traits are healthy for her, and more or less in balance across the scenes. While I would have loved the exchange with Bryce to be less rushed, because this is a CC book I understand why it was paced the way it was.

(And again, the drama of Rhys bearing down on them with his Lord of Darkness and Night drama flying across Velaris, while Nesta and Bryce discussed and then traded off the Mask, was peak entertainment for me. Nesta also almost made the decision to stall long enough to wait for Rhys and make the whole thing his problem and not hers - I loved that glimpse we saw of her considering that too! That she decided instead to act, I think, was because she probably logicked that Rhys would openly battle Bryce on sight, and Nesta would have calculated that would not be in the best interest of both worlds given what she knew of the Asteri threat from her time under the Prison with Bryce and Azriel.)

And finally, Ember is in fact the queen of the bonus chapter for me. My biggest frustration when I came on Tumblr after reading HOFAS was how every reading of the bonus chapter centered the freaking males in the sequence of scenes, when if as a reader you don't make this about the IC and their dynamics, in my reading in this bonus chapter SJM was telling an important story between two women: Ember and Nesta.

This was a bonus chapter about how amazing of a mother Ember is (because her daughter is the FMC of this book, about to go save Midgard, so learning more about Bryce's mother helps us understand Bryce better), and SJM rightly realized putting her in the same room as post-ACOSF Nesta, whose mother was the opposite of Ember, was the perfect way to showcase this. That Rhys came along and added some drama was la di da for me and utterly secondary to what passes between Ember and Nesta.

The final thing I'll say is, the part of chs. 76-77 that bothers me the most is not anything in the scene itself, but the high expectation it set for the final conflict with the Midgard Asteri and how that expectation was not met satisfactorily for me. I did like the "Death / Not Death" filter Bryce experienced when wearing the Mask, and I also liked that Nesta's mental-emotional struggles while wearing the Mask were not universal to all wearers of it... But, the raising-the-dead magic was not consistent and was mostly vibes in the way Bryce manages to use the Mask to raise the Fallen. The whole thing with their wings attaching to the mech suits, and also how their command to do her bidding stuck even after she removed the Mask.....yea, that was a let down.

The Trove had such rich inner logic in ACOSF. I hope that logic returns when we get to ACOTAR5, and that the Mask as a Deus Ex Machina winds up being specific to Bryce's whole Magical Starborn Princess Powers schtick. The Mask is way more threatening to the wearer in Prythian than it seemed to be in Midgard, and I like that version of the Mask better.

#hofas spoilers #post hofas discussion #nesta archeron #bryce quinlan #ember quinlan #nessian #cassian #rhysand #hofas #hofas bonus chapter #house of flame and shadow #dread trove #acosf #a court of silver flames #sarah j maas

[argentumindustries]

Every once in awhile I have a conversation with someone - a parent or family member with a young kid - about activities for their kid to do and every time, without fail, I mention theatre.

I believe that it is in the interest of every young child to be part of at least two theatre shows (not just one and done - one to learn, and the second one to apply the lessons). On stage, acting, in front of a crowd. Because for what it teaches, theatre absolutely maximises its impact. All at once, in the act of preparing for and then performing in a show, a child will learn everything from how to perform a task in front of a crowd, public speaking, team work, diction, independent study, body and postural awareness, and more.

Yes, there are other extracurriculars you could have a kid do that have them perform in front of a crowd. Sports, music, dance - but for each of their strengths, they all fall short of theatre's efficiency.

I had the luck that my public school had a local theatre director come and teach second and third grade kids (as part of the public school system at the time, schools had an allowance of time and budget for an art/music/performance module). Two hours per week, and each year both grades would put on an end of year show. It didn't matter if a kid was shy, disinterested, etc - it was part of the curriculum, and you were going on that stage.

It won't turn your kid into a professional. It's not supposed to - all it needs to do is put a kid on a stage where they have to say some lines and move around with purpose. Most of the kids in those classes never did anything related to theatre again. But what I know for a fact is that - each kid to their own ability - those two years of curriculum fundamentally improved our ability to *function* with all eyes pointed at us.

Like you want to be able to do every time you present in front of a class, or team, or when you need to defend your ideas, negotiate, or even just tell a story. Or to have more ease in *asking* a question in front of a group, loosening that anxiety that can otherwise push many to keep quiet and leave their doubts unanswered. Learning how to project your voice, make sure you're being heard and understood, clear diction - as useful as when you need to monologue on stage as when you're on a zoom call with patchy connection.

The TLDR is this. Being able to remain calm and at ease, speak clearly, and improvise when all eyes are on you is a skill that fundamentally improves your life - and theatre is by far the most efficient way to learn those skills.

So yeah. Put your kids in theatre. Hell, put yourself in theatre. For at least two shows, with the only requirement being to go through with performing in front of a crowd.

#theatre #education #add theatre to the list of classes I wish all public schools had the budget and resources to teach #home ec to teach ya the basics of cooking cleaning and budgeting #and theatre to give you solid ground on which to plant your feet for any type of public speaking #or otherwise being at the center of attention #you don't have to love the spotlight but a theatre class will teach ya how not to wither beneath it #and instead breathe and make yourself heard when you want to be and when you *need* to be

[superlinguo]

Conversation, cooperation and dementia

I have had more than one grandparent with dementia. This post is a series of personal reflections about the way conversation changes when someone you know well loses the ability to remember, and how linguistics has given me a framework for dealing with this. I don’t know anything about dementia other than these experiences, and there are whole sets of emotional and logistical challenges of living with dementia, or a loved one with dementia that I’m not going to address here.

Dementia presents a challenge when you’re having conversations, because the person with dementia loses the ability to track what’s been covered in a conversation - perhaps over the course of 15 minutes, perhaps sometimes in 15 seconds. This creates loops and eddies in conversational topics. It also breaks down one of the fundamental features we require in communication; the belief that our conversational partner is a cooperative one.

Cooperation is important because otherwise a well-flowing interaction is, on the surface, a series of non-sequiturs as the person speaking makes a leap and their conversational partner(s) makes the leap with them. Why are we talking about Uncle Desmond? It must be relevant to the conversation about Aunt Muriel we were just having. A person with dementia can feel from their perspective that they’re being cooperative but from your perspective they’re telling you the same story about Uncle Desmond’s first wife for the 3rd time in 15 minutes.

I’ve noticed that different family members deal with the destruction of the facade of cooperation in various ways; the helpful one tries to turn the conversation to other topics, the sanguine one lets the story play out a fourth time, the pragmatic one tells my grandmother every time that she’s already told this story and that, in fact, she has dementia. Each is trying to rebalance the illusion of cooperation, and each has varying degrees of success which I’m sure relates to my grandmother’s relationship to them, her personal condition, and everyone’s mood on any given day.

Another group we see constantly breaking the sense of cooperation is children. Kids are tiny randomness machines and keeping them on conversational tracks can be a lot of work (and work that extends beyond the years of just learning to speak grammatically). The thing with children is that we expect this from them to some extent. The challenge with conversing with a family member with dementia is that we have years, often a lifetime, of conversational rhythm with them.

The ways in which we expect conversational cooperation were broken into four main categories by Paul Grice. He called these maxims, which I always think of in the ‘guide’ sense rather than ‘rule’. They can help clarify the ways that it can feel difficult to maintain a conversation with someone who has dementia. The first that comes to mind for me is always the maxim of relation, because it does not seem relevant to return to the same story of Uncle Desmond again without new reason, and because this might lurch suddenly into a new conversational track about a cousin you haven’t talked about for 15 years. I’m sure that if I made transcripts of conversations my family have with my grandmother I’d find examples of various different ways that our conversational expectations are challenged in these small talk moments. Knowing about conversational cooperation has made me far more relaxed about approaching these conversations, in one of the more unusual ways my linguistics training has giving me a weird sense of peace about a process I have no control over.

This is where my thoughts on this topic had arrived at. I was talking to my colleague Tonya Stebbins about these experiences the other day and she introduced me to the concept of validation theory. Validation theory is an approach to interactions with people who have dementia that starts from the assumptions that you need to consider the emotive content of what they’re saying, rather than the informational content.  This allows you to engage with their emotional state. There’s an overview at this website, but I’m yet to dig into any literature on the efficacy of this approach.

To illustrate validation theory with an example I still remember from when I was very young and we were visiting my great grandmother: When a person with dementia is worried about her young grandson getting off the bus after school, even though she’s sharing these concerns with that grandson who is actually a middle-age man visiting with his own small children, the idea is to not simply point this out to her, but to attend to the underlying anxiety that has surfaced as this particular and temporally disjunct concern. Regardless of the fact that it’s been decades since her grandson stopped going to school on the bus, taking a conversational approach that spoke to her concern would be a way to address whatever anxiety she had. 

What I immediately like about validation theory is that it re-balances the onus of cooperation in the conversation. In this approach, the conversational partner without dementia is responsible for ensuring they are not failing at the maxim of relevance by attending to the implicit anxieties, worries or joys in the conversational eddies of the interaction. 

Chatting to my grandmother is both one of the most normal and most challenging things. It is as once unremarkably familiar and exhaustingly surreal. I’m grateful that a linguistic perspective on conversation has given me some coping mechanisms for navigating the more surreal moments.

See also:

Lingthusiasm episode 11: Layers of meaning - Cooperation, humour, and Gricean Maxims

Hamilton, Heidi E. (2019). Language, Dementia and Meaning Making. Navigating the Challenges of Cognition and Face in Everyday Life.  Palgrave Macmillan.

#linguistics #dementia #conversation #memory

[kaypeace21]

The ‘parentification’ of Jonathan Byers (psych analysis)

“Parentification is defined as the phenomenon where children take caregiving responsibilities (acting as a parent)  for their parents, siblings or other family members, at the expense of their own developmental needs.”

When can parentification occur?

1) After a “Divorce”   

“If there is more than one child in the family, usually the eldest, is “chosen” to be parentified .When a father-figure is missing, it may be the eldest son who is forced to take on his father's responsibilities.”

2) When there’s a “parent with a mental illness “

3)“Parental alcoholism or drug addiction.” (lonnie’s place covered in beer cans could allude to this).

4) “siblings with a mental illness’

5) “Death of a sibling or parent” (  This point is kind of cheating - but the fact Jon as a 15 y old had to plan a funeral, for his little brother instead of either one of his parents just illustrates how he always was forced to do adult duties much too young.)

6) “mothers of low socio-economic status, are frequently associated with parentification of their children. “

“given the fact that there are many single parent families, it falls upon children from some of these homes to carry adult responsibilities while their parent is out working. Often, in these situations, the parent is asking or expecting the child to take on adult responsibilities in their absence. They become the parent of the household in the interim between coming home from school and when the parent returns to the household.”

***TO MAKE THINGS VERY CLEAR: we are NOT hating on Joyce, here! “The harm of parentification is usually done not out of malicious intent. However, when a child who is supposed to go through their natural cycles of development and self- evolution,  is forced to grow up too quickly, there is a cost.” But, Joyce did what she had to do being a poor single mother - she had to work! Even when Lonnie was around- he had debts. And Joyce apologized to Jon for not being around when they were growing up (working since he was 5)- and she even mentioned working Hollidays . But at the end of s1, we see her celebrating Christmas eve with them (showing she’s trying to have a better work life balance for her kids and prioritize them more).  I think Will’s disappearance gave Joyce a wake-up call of sorts about what she values most-her kids.She loves her kids more than anything- and  would never intentionally do any harm. She has to work for all of them to survive and stay together. But it did force Jon to be parent to Will in her absence (especially cause Lonnie even when around wasn’t much help).

And in s3 it’s hinted Joyce plans to be there for her kids on Thanksgiving and Christmas- so she is trying to rectify past behaviors. Ok with that out of the way,  now we can continue...

 Types of Parentification 

“Parentification can either be emotional or instrumental, or both.”

“EMOTIONAL PARENTIFICATION : is when the child becomes a source of constant emotional support to their parent or sibling.Emotional parentification often involves a child or adolescent taking on the role and responsibilities of confidant, secret keeper, or emotional healer for family members.”

“ Parentification can also be the the process of role reversal where a child is obliged to act as parent to their own parent. Examples being: Listening to a parent talk about their problems.Serving as a confidante for their parent or providing emotional comfort and support to a parent.”

  “In cases of INSTRUMENTAL PARENTIFICATION: children take on practical responsibilities such as:Taking care of siblings or other relatives because a parent is unable to. Assuming housekeeping duties, such as cleaning, cooking,  grocery shopping. And Paying bills and attending to other household tasks .”

“ It’s good for kids to have responsibilities such as chores around the house or babysitting for a younger sibling. Responsibilities should increase when a child becomes a teenager to prepare them for being on their own eventually. However, when a young child is responsible for , paying the electricity bill, or raising a younger sibling, that is when problems arise.”

“Imagine a child who is bombarded every day with the responsibilities to tuck in sisters or brothers, or read them bedtime stories; organize drinks or food, wash up dishes, pay bills, or a myriad of housework. When burdened with that many responsibilities, self-care tends to go out the window. If the child continues to attend school, they may be withdrawn, unkempt, and visibly exhausted.”

“The effects are worsened and more destructive for the development of the child, the more the care-giving efforts of the child become a normalized expectation.“

 We see this in Joyce berating Jon for not parenting Will, properly (although her being upset was somewhat reasonable). But ,we also see this in how Joyce  says Jonathan has “always been good at taking care of himself.” Assuming Jon is ok, when he’s actually not. While Lonnie simply insults Will saying “he was never good at taking care of himself.”  The difference being Joyce criticizes Jon for not relying on her more. While Lonnie critiques Will for simply acting like a child and not being self-reliant, like Jonathan. Pretty heavily hinting, Lonnie even when around did very little parenting and expected the kids to take care of themselves. And since Will didn’t ‘take care of himself’ - it probably put the load on Jonathan to parent Will (when Joyce wasn’t around, even when Lonnie was physically there).

Consequences of Parentification

“ It is expected that complicated relationship patterns will develop between siblings.  The parentified sibling can often develop a symbiotic, codependent relationship with their siblings.”

“These people are very likely to find themselves in similar relational patterns in adulthood. They believe they must serve, help and rescue everyone in need. As adults, they may find that they have a confused sense of self-identity beyond the helper role. The only way they learned to relate, was through being of service and providing caregiving- so it is extremely possible that they have to be the primary caregivers for their own romantic partners . Since they never learned anything different. “

“ The ‘helper role’ might have dominated their entire being. Their sense of self did not get fully developed before they were needed to care for others, so as a result, they don’t know who they are except when they are doing things for others. “

“Parentified children can become very angry people. Sometimes this adult child may not know why they are angry . They can have explosive anger or passive anger, especially when someone triggers their parental wounds of emotional exploitation.”

“Parentified children inevitably develop a distorted image of what love is supposed to be like, thereby growing up to be quite distrustful of interpersonal relationships overall.Complicated attachment patterns emerge as a result. An avoidant attachment style is not unlikely. In the absence of a nurturing provider of safety and care, the parentified child may have learned to utterly depend on themselves alone- thereby avoiding close bonds and intimacy in adult life.intimacy is both craved for and avoided, both a longing and a great threat. Underneath this facade, they are quite lonely.”

This is similar to Jonathan not having friends, ‘not liking most people’, having ‘trust issues’ caused by Lonnie (that caused distrust of Bob, a father-figure) and simply being afraid to talk to people in general. Or joyce calling out Jonathan saying “you act like you’re all alone in this world. But your not.”

‘They also tend to blame themselves for everything that goes wrong, and constantly try to fix things that cannot be fixed.’

“The child may appear highly capable to tend for themselves and others, very mature for their age, resilient and even wise beyond their years- but they lack the safe haven of a secure attachment figure that is vital for the development of emotional regulation.”

A parentified teenager or younger child may exhibit the following symptoms:

-”Anxiety”

Like... this hurt my soul!  His face dropped the second Nancy left the room.He probably has anxiety but looks up to Joyce for trying to still be a good mom and keep it together. Why he said “WE’LL be okay” cause his mom is  “tough”.  He tries to lead by her example. But unlike Joyce, Jon probably always had to keep it together- even if struggling with similar anxiety issues as Joyce. Because he knew they both couldn’t act that way and “shut down” (for Will’s sake). He always had to put on a fake ‘grown-up’ front and keep the family together and help support Joyce and Will emotionally and finacially . And someone (unintentionally) saying the reason he’s like his mom is not because of her positive traits but because of her mental illness- must have HURT! Especially cause he’s probably already struggling with anxiety-  and maybe even fears acknowledging it. Because he’s supposed to have it ‘all together.’ “The identity of parentified children actually depends on their ability to suppress their needs. Since it is likely that their family already had too many problems to cope with, and so they learned to be quiet, voiceless and without demands. In order to be a ‘proper helper’ .“

And it probably doesn’t help he’s afraid it could escalate into something worse. Because in s1 they mentioned Joyce’s aunt having hallucinations. And jonathan even says to hopper “she used to have anxiety problems. I’m worried it could be ... I don’t know.” So yeah , Nancy saying him and Joyce have the same anxiety problems probably terrified him.

-”Depression”

-”Inability to trust others (we covered that) and or social isolation.”

-”Compulsively overworking in order to fulfill responsibilities at school and at home.”

-”Feelings of guilt and shame.”

“Fortunately, there are many healing processes and routes to wholeness and recovery for a young adult or adult who has been parentified as a child.Acknowledgment of your past is the first step to healing and recovery (via therapy or other means). You have to accept the truth of your story. Because, if you continue to live in denial, your mental energy will be spent in suppressing the pain that was there, rather than healing what needs to be healed. Being highly self-reliant was your only option in your household , but it may be a strategy that no longer works for you. It keeps you in isolation and unable to connect with others. Therefore, challenging yourself to connect with others authentically would also be considered one of the most potent ways to heal. The thoughts, feelings, impressions, and emotions buried within are waiting to be heard, once and for all.  “

Alright, thanks for listening I hope you enjoyed.  I really wanted to do a psych analysis strictly based on what the show presents. Rather than inclusion of the s4 movies. I did mention how those movies did allude to Jonathan’s parentification, here (if interested though). I also didn’t go into the hints in the narrative of Lonnie possibly being s****lly abusive to Jonathan cause it’s a bit more speculative ( I did talk about it in my DID psych analyses pt 1 & pt 2 though). Only mentioning it here, at the end, since one of the causes of parentification is also a parent s****lly ab*sing their kids (quite literally stripping their kids of their entire childhood in every way imaginable- and frankly the worst way possible). Regardless,I think most people neglect Jonathan as a character- and the s4 movies hint we’ll finally get more focus on him in the upcoming seasons. So I wanted to dedicate a post to some of Jonathan’s issues that may get more attention in later seasons.

#jonathan byers #will byers #joyce byers #stranger things

[astral-disastral]

Does this sound like a possible OSDD/DID experience?

Most of my childhood and early teens is locked away. I can't remember much, what I do tends to be fuzzy and I don't know how I feel about it, I sometimes can't even remember trauma or the emotions I experienced during said trauma. I also struggle to remember things like family members and my social security number  or things like appointments I have. I usually feel very numb to my emotions or can't understand what I'm feeling. I have thoughts that aren't mine that aren't just things like intrusive thoughts because most of the time they aren't violent. There are even times where I feel like I lose control of myself and/or don't feel like myself. There's a "part" of me that doesn't know how to cope and ends up hurting me. During these times when I look in the mirror I either don't recognize my reflection or it's changed to something else. I also struggle with things like my house feeling unfamiliar or  forgetting my skills like drawing.

The thoughts come from what I believe are alters. They have names, identities, and one of them even has an accent that's different from mine. I've had people point out that my personality tends to change. I was considering going to get evaluated but just scared it's gonna take the 7+ years I've seen talked about on the web. Would a mental hospital take this seriously? Any advice or help is really appreciated.

First, I wanna say I’m proud of you for reaching out about this and that i really commend you for being self aware enough to talk about this. These things can be really hard to talk about, and the fact that you have language for what you’re feeling is a huge first step.

As someone who’s been diagnosed with DID, a TON of the experiences you just explained are things that I have dealt with or deal with on a daily basis(not remembering certain skills/memories/people, thoughts that you are yours but aren’t, feeling out of control, parts that lash out, not recognizing yourself in the mirror). These are all pretty classic symptoms of DID, and it seems like you have also described at least some form of early childhood trauma that could have caused this(being locked away was a huge part of my own trauma as well). Of course I don’t know your full history, but so far it seems like we’re very similar in a lot of ways.

But I also want to tell you, I can’t diagnose you myself. I can give you pointers and relate to you, but your best option if you are considering this would be to see a professional. If you have DID, it’s serious. It’s not just something like depression or anxiety, it’s a very complicated and hard disorder to live with. 70% of people with DID make a suicide attempt in their lifetime, and if you’ve made one, you’re likely to have multiple. So, out of love and care for you, it’s imperative that you see someone if you think you have this disorder, for your safety and well-being.

On a personal level, it didn’t take me 7 years to get diagnosed, honestly it wasn’t more than a few months. I’m not sure exactly where everyone keeps pulling that number from, or how accurate that actually is. But for me, I went into a stabilization center expressing these concerns about possibly having DID. They set me up with a psych who was educated on what I said my symptoms were. I told my psych very similar things to what you just told me, and we started EMDR. It became apparent to my psych through EMDR that there were other alters, since THEY were the ones having facing that trauma and not me(our ANP host). So, she diagnosed me because I was clearly having every symptom and wasn’t malingering or misinterpreting my disorder. Through this process with a professional, through being honest about your symptoms, and through the actual trauma work, is where you’ll get a diagnosis and help. I would also recommend, if you have an intake, to ask for someone who specializes in dissociative disorders. This will help a lot when trying to find someone who understands how these things work, how they differ from other disorders, or someone who’s just educated enough to refer you to a DID specialist.

I hope this was helpful, and anon, if you ever need someone to talk to or ask questions, feel free to PM me. I really hope this goes well for you, sending all my love your way during your mental health journey💓

#dissociative identity disorder #actuallymultiple #actuallyplural #did osdd #multiplicity #did #diagnosed system #pluralgang #actually plural #plural questioning #plurality #mental health awareness #actually multiple #mental health #mental illness

[outoftheframework]

characterization cheat sheet: the batfamily boys

Hey everyone! I had the idea to compile a comprehensive list of different traits and attributes for each member of the batfamily based off of both canon and fanon interpretations. I think this could be useful for new members to the fandom, or those looking to write and/or draw for these characters. Remember that these will have a slight bias considering I, a fanon creator, am creating the lists. But I’ll try to make them as accurate as possible.

Appearances vary from artist to artist, so I’ll try to stray away from general details and add more little things you can consider in your art.

Bruce Wayne:

Age: 35-45

Appearance: Extremely physically fit, but signs of aging and prolonged exertion can slip through. Has a collection of scattered scars varying from fresh to fully healed. Strong, dark features. Conventionally attractive, but can easily switch to be foreboding/intimidating. Well kept in public appearances, but can look like death incarnate when in private.

Personality: Dual personas: “Bruce” (at home, but not as batman) and “Brucie” (public appearances like galas, news interviews). Bruce is stoic, well-read and educated, well-mannered, and occasionally can be witty and laid-back. Smirks rather than smiles. Brucie is loud, spontaneous, charming, and sometimes oblivious. He is the womanizer and scandal-maker. Often the actions of Brucie are motivated by Batman’s interests.

Speech: Bruce was mainly raised by as English butler, so his speech patterns are proper and smooth. Rarely uses speech fillers such as “uh” and “um,” except when interrupted while concentrating. Despite living in Gotham his entire life, he has not picked up the accent. His voice is newscaster American, almost impossible to pinpoint to a certain region. His speech as Brucie changes to relate more to the audience he is addressing. Speeches to Gotham high society will sound different than those aimed to the general public.

Additional Attributes: Bruce Wayne in all of his personalities is fiercely protective, and can easily slip into a deeper voice to intimidate. Bruce can be extremely empathetic and slightly impulsive when it comes to children who have lost their parents. As learned through his training to become Batman, Bruce is disciplined and can work for hours straight.

Dick Grayson:

Age: 23-29

Appearance: Dick Grayson mirrors a young Bruce Wayne despite their not being blood related. This could be a subconscious action by Dick to absorb traits of his father figure. His lean acrobatic body starts to set him apart from Bruce’s image. Dick manages to be well-built but still limber and flexible. His feet and hands are rough and calloused. His hair can get long but usually stays at a length in between Bruce’s and Tim’s. His eyes are bright blue without even a hint of green or brown. 

Personality: In one comic I believe it was Superman who said that Dick Grayson is a universal constant, meaning that on every alternate earth or timeline, you can always rely on him to be good and pure. I think this really sums up who Dick should be. He is kind to a fault, and can sometimes be naive and not think things through. He loves to love, be that in his family, in his romantic relationships, in his friendships, and even in strangers. He is a chronic hero who only wants to see the world as a better place. But it’s important to note that Dick can get angry when pushed, and holds grudges.

Speech: Dick is an extremely interesting study in speech patterns. As a child he traveled with the circus, until he lived with clear-spoken Bruce Wayne and a proper English butler. So influences to his speech and accent come both internationally and locally to Gotham and Bludhaven. As a child living at Wayne Manor, Dick picks up a slight Gotham tinge to his accent with some British flourish in his vowel sounds. He regularly speaks in slang. As Nightwing he is able to suppress his unique speech to sound more evenly American.

Additional Attributes: Dick acts differently around each of his family members as to be what they need in a big brother. For example, he is more fatherly to Damian while to Tim he is more an equal. Dick can fidget and has less of an attention span than Bruce. He can use jokes as a coping mechanism.

Jason Todd: 

Age: 22-26

Appearance: Hair is often long on top and shorter on the sides, sometimes with a white streak as a side effect from the Lazarus Pit. Tallest and heaviest of all the kids, very physically intimidating. Has a lot of scars and burns, and in some fan works he has a “Y” shaped scar the length of his chest from his autopsy. Never skips leg day. Green/blue eyes.

Personality: Jason goes through a lot of character development, but for this list I’m going off a timeline of post-Under the Red Hood, where Jason is on okay, yet still a little shaky, terms with the rest of the family. Jason has a hard time separating vigilante life and civilian life; his death as Robin ended his life as Jason Todd, blurring the lines between the two. Jason is legally dead, so he is basically building an identity back up. He holds some attributes from childhood: brave, impulsive, loud-mouthed, and street-smart. But his experiences post-Robin have made him a hardened loner. He lives modestly and with some semblance of order. He’s hard to foster a relationship with, but can be a passionate friend/family member when he opens up.

Speech: Jason probably has the least influence from Bruce and Alfred’s speech patterns, seeing as though he spent a lot more time with his biological family/on the streets than he did as a preteen in the manor. He is the definition of Gotham vernacular, with a rough edge. So much so that as a child, the high society gala attenders sometimes had a hard time understanding him. Often talks in curt, short sentences.

Additional Attributes: He has trouble expressing his emotions, more specifically anger and/or grief. Can both love or hate furiously. Inherently good, but sometimes does “bad” things. Protective over children, especially those living on the street. Very much a believer in “the ends justify the means.”

Tim Drake:

Age: 17-20

Appearance: Pale skin, dark hair. Sharp cheek bones and jawline, mostly from how skinny he is. His body isn’t technically “built” to be extremely athletic, but he’s forced a nice lean build from stringently working out. Easily loses and gains weight as a direct result of his work, causing fluctuations in his build. Five foot something, will eventually be out-grown by Damian. Long hair that can still be styled to look professional.

Personality: Tim Drake is very passionate in pretty much everything he sets his mind to. He feels as though he imposed himself onto Batman to become Robin, so he works twice as hard to prove his worth. He can be self conscious and deprecating. Tim as Robin or Red Robin is very different than civilian Tim; his hero personas can be bolder and more confident. Despite dropping out of high school, he values education.

Speech: Tim grew up rich, and his speech reflects an intelligence gained from private tutors. Despite this, he knows how to interact with those his age in using less formal language and slang. Often quotes books and movies. Can be awkward and stumble over his words when teased by his friends/family. He can manipulate people easily in business settings by talking fast and confidently while explaining complex topics.

Additional Attributes: Tim’s demeanor is directly tied to his varying levels of confidence and anxiety. Tim is has above-average intelligence and is diligent in detective work, but can still act like a teenager. He can be stubborn to extremes and will patiently play the long con. He does not cope well with loss.

Duke Thomas:

Age: 17-19

Appearance: Short dark hair, shaved on the sides and/or the back. Often wears the colors yellow and black. Around the same height as Tim, but a little taller. Stronger and heavier build more alike to Jason than Dick, but he’s still light on his feet. Expressive face that can give away his feelings easily. Still a bit of a baby face, but he’s still well-proportioned and conventionally handsome.

Personality: In my works, I’ve often described Duke as having a “sun-shiny” personality. He is one to not even think twice about putting others before himself. Duke uses his own personal experiences to guide him as a hero rather than suppress his emotions. Duke went from being an only child to having a large family, so he can sometimes feel overwhelmed. He is on friendly terms with every member of the batfamily, as well as many other heroes. Duke is self-sacrificial and is still learning how to effectively work as a detective.

Speech: Duke grew up in a middle class Gotham family, so his speech is influenced by his parents as well as his city environment. Duke has a mild Gotham accent and speaks a lot in modern slang. He hasn’t had much influence from Bruce and Alfred, considering he hasn’t lived with them for long. It’s possible that as he grows he will pick up some influences from Bruce and Tim’s way of speaking, but will most likely hold onto the accent of his childhood.

Additional Attributes: Duke is a metahuman vigilante in a city where Batman typically bans them, which causes a bit of an insecurity and a perfectionist drive. These are exasperated by the long line of history preceding him, as well as the fact that he involved himself in the Robin movement rather than being handpicked by Batman. He and Tim can relate in that way. Duke is an ardent student of Batman and is dedicated to the cause.

Damian Wayne:

Age: 10-14

Appearance: Looks similar to Bruce when he was the same age, yet stronger and with tanner skin. His hair is expertly cut and styled, but still age-appropriate. He is the shortest of the batkids, but still has a lot of time and potential to grow. He pretty much won the genetics lottery with Bruce and Talia as his biological parents, and is made for athletics. He has some scars that stand out with their pale coloring against his tan skin. 

Personality: Damian is slowly becoming less of a brat, to put it bluntly. He admires his family and tries to mimic them, but will never confess it. Damian is quick to judge and will voice his opinion no matter how scathing it may be, both as civilian and hero. Damian is slowly realizing he may not want the Batman mantle as quickly as he planned. Jon is a perfect foil to Damian, and often makes him a better person when they’re together. 

Speech: His speech is proper and formal. Prefers formal titles: ex. “father” over “dad” and last names over first. Damian is at least bilingual (Arabic and English), and can switch between languages easily. Most of his speech patterns developed from his tutors in the League, and more recently, Alfred. Influences like Jon and Dick have introduced him to a more modern, laid-back way of speaking, which he sometimes utilizes when relaxed.

Additional Attributes: Damian has problems with authority, especially those that he doesn’t respect like his teachers at school. He can be arrogant and childish ever though he often acts like he knows everything. Damian is still a child and has much to learn from batman and family as well as unlearn from his time at the League. Dami was forged to be a ruthless warrior, but now has to find a balance between the hero Robin and the child Damian Wayne.

Hope this helps someone! Feel free to add on if you think I missed anything. Just please remember to be civil and respect different interpretations of these characters. Let me know if you want another one of these posts outlining the girls or other characters.

#batman #batfam #batfamily #batkids #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #duke thomas #damian wayne #nightwing #red hood #red robin #signal #robin #batfamily fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman fanart #dc #dc comics

[lamelinam]

The maid and the Cat, Ren and Akira: some musings

What gloomy love brightened the half-lives of the Sohmas’ most Cursed ones?

I often wonder what the relationship between the former Cat and his attendant would have looked like, twisted and sad as it must have been. Precious little is shown about those two, and only through Kazuma’s pov. We know she took care of and pitied the Cat, to the point that she even slept with him and bore his child. This is not unlike Kureno’s relationship with Akito. She might have treated him with the same kindness and devotion, distant, perhaps harmful, yet selfless.

Selfless? I think another way to extrapolate on the story of Kazuma’s grandparents is with Ren and Akira’s relationship.

Many great meta writers have already pointed out that those who fill in the positions at the extremes of the Sohma hierarchy, the Cat and God, or in this case the Cat and the idolized, deified family head, are foils to each other and are the ones that are dehumanized and isolated the most.

But now I think that you can also compare the way the previous Cat and Akira both chose ("chose" being a relative term in the case of the Cat) a romantic partner.

(Akira wasn’t God, but as the family head, he was worshipped just like Akito. His sickness also contributed to making him stand apart. Not only was he kept inside the compound because of his frailty, the hold that death had on him blessed him with this ephemeral, divine aura. “Was it the sorrow that befell him at such a young age that gave him that otherworldly beauty?»)

Both Kazuma’s grandfather and Akito’s father were doomed, Akira to die an early death, Kazuma’s grandfather to live the life of a living dead. Both were buried alive in the Sohma estate, either at the outskirts or at the center of it.

Both reached out to their progeny. (But Kazuma rejected the offered cake, and will endeavour to atone and honour his grandfather’s memory. Akito clung to every memento she had of her father and will need to learn to let go of him.)

And both the previous Cat and Akira found some measure of comfort in the affections and arms of their female caretakers, Sohma servants who saw their loneliness and expressed their compassion, though not in a particularly healthy way: Kazuma’s grandmother acting out of pity, Ren out of obsessive love.

It’s interesting to me how their respective position was reflected in their partners’ feelings : the imprisoned, despised Cat, Kazuma’s grandmother looked down on. The respected, otherworldly beautiful Akira was adored by Ren.

Kazuma sums up his grandparents’ relationship thusly:

Those correspond to the main "duties" that a wife is traditionally supposed to provide her husband.

The day-to-day caring.

Childbearing.

Attending their husband’s deathbed.

Obviously Ren wished she could have skipped the second one and be there for the last one. (I headcanon that she had prepared her last words years in advance, finding small pleasures and comfort, on the back of the wave of despair anticipating Akira’s death, in rehearsing the declarations of passionate love she would address to the dying man.)

The Cat’s companion attended her partner’s deathbed, seemingly very composed, even cold, as seen in Kazuma’s memories, while Ren, deprived of her husband’s last moments, that she felt were “stolen” from her by Akito (in reality by the maids :@), was mad with grief.

"The only one who can save him"

Those parallels make me wonder whether or not the Cat’s companion might not have developed a saviour complex, like Ren, both believing that they were the only one able to save this lonely, condemned person they were taking care of, and relishing it.

“I love you” vs "I pity you"

On Ren’s side though, it seems that she believes she truly saw Akira, as the person hiding behind that otherworldly aura, filled with sadness and fearful of death. Seeing that Akira agrees with her ("Ren noticed I was lonely"), fought against the Sohma leaders and regretted on his deathbed that he and Ren couldn’t reconcile, I believe this is not a delusion of hers. Her love was genuine and passionate, and she and Akira were happy. Unfortunately, that happiness didn’t survive her pregnancy, for she was also jealous and obsessed.

Kazuma supposes that his grandmother believed that she was doing something good. I wonder at her expression. It is shadowed, enigmatic. Is it a smirk or not, is she sad or not? i wonder whether she was selfless in her pity, like Kureno, or selfish like Kagura, perhaps feeling better by «sacrificing» herself in associating with the Cat for the sake of a miserable soul.

(Whatever you can say or imagine about her, Kazuma doesn’t seem to suffer from the stigma of being the Cat’s grandson, nor does he bear any trace of an abusive upbringing - in fact, he was among those doing the abusing - or even the echoes of the previous generation’s, so my guess is that she was an okay mother and grandmother... which would have made Kazuma’s disappointment and hurt at her words all the sharper... Like Tohru thinking of the zodiacs members she finds so kind and adorable secretly looking down on someone else she realizes she cares about more than she thought.)

There is no way to know how the Cat reacted to a pity-love. But considering Kureno and Akito’s relationship, this might also have been but a superficial balm, and potentially just as hurtful. Then it depends on the interpretation. Kureno’s pity cocooned Akito and kept her from moving forward, but the Cat was condemned anyway to an eternity of imprisonment. Moving forward was forbidden to him. And if his self-worth was already completely destroyed as his role and his treatment are meant to do, he might have just felt grateful towards the attendant. There’s no way to say for sure whether he would have been hurt or not by the truth, and I don’t know which option is the saddest!

... but I know what could be sadder. Because is the maid entirely to blame? We know that in Fruits Basket, love requires a measure of selfishness. The one cursed with the Cat has no self, no existence, no wants and no future, and they accept this fate. They believe they deserve it. (Which is why the Cat's Room doesn't need bars in the manga, nor locks. Rin was under lock and keys because either Akito didn't completely trust her to keep her word or she didn't want someone to discover her.)

It would be very difficult for someone to fall in love with a person who has renounced to everything, perhaps including love. Because who's to say that the Cat loved the maid too?

Recognition vs indifference

How depressingly fitting that we don't even learn the Cat's name, while Akira’s is remembered by all and echoes back and forth in the later part of the story.

Ren marrying the Sohma family head was such a big political deal it provoked a family schism. The Cat’s story with the maid gets completely ignored. It is probably known, just not "officially recognized", says Kazuma. Like everything related to the Cat, it was relegated to the back of the minds, in the dusty closet of the things that are uncomfortable to think about but that you tolerate if it doesn’t upend your little world-view. Ugh, some maid is being inappropriate with that monster! Well, as long as she doesn’t free the loathsome creature, who cares. (And she wouldn’t, because she’s no Tohru.)

In contrast, the maids of the main family thought that Ren was stealing Akira from their grasp. Ren didn’t seem to care for the family, and in a way, her love allowed Akira to also escape from them, "snatched away" by "that woman”, for the old attendant. Unlike the Cat’s attendant, Ren felt like a threat to the Sohma strict hierarchical system. (Fortunately, God will be born to bring back the right order of things, phew! Certainly she he will accomplish what Akira-san was momentarily too misguided to do and rid us of that woman!)

Inheritance.

Both women's profession of their true feelings deeply marked their progeny and the way they view relationship, whether personal or not, romantic or filial.

While her mother affirmed that "a woman only needs one man", Akito leaned on the love of the zodiacs ; Kazuma viewed and loved Kyo as a human and dreaded that his son would find himself in the same situation as his grandfather but also with the same kind of companionship. (His reaction to Kagura speaks of a long-held anxiety). But Ren's hatred for Akito coloured the way Akito interpreted her words, while Kazuma’s grandmother’s declaration shook Kazuma, his personal relationship with his grandmother notwithstanding.

This comparison isn't about good or evil, neither to judge those characters. Furuba isn’t about that. Obviously, they are not blameless. But it is very difficult to say whether or not Kazuma’s grandmother was wrong to act out of pity if it provided a bit of comfort to a prisoner. And is it surprising that Ren developed this saviour’s complex when it seems she was the only one willing to breach Akira’s isolation bubble?

Anyway, Takaya-sensei is really good at making foils. Either because she does it on purpose or because her characters are so deeply intertwined with the themes of the series the parallels appear on their own. But in this case, I don’t think it’s for nothing that the chapters recounting Ren and the Cat’s attendant stories follow each other (chapters 114 and 115).

Of course, this meta is less an analysis and more suppositions and conjectures (frankly, I wonder if I might not as well have written a fanfic). From the little we see, the Cat’s companion and Ren work as distorted yin-yang mirrors, their differences highlighting the similarities of their situations, from the ugly effects of the inner workings of the Sohma cult to the messed up inner workings of the heart. Genuine but obsessed, jealous love... Pity, perhaps self-serving, in the guise of martyred love.... One thing I can say for sure is that these two both gave me chills in their own way.

#ren sohma #cat's companion #the cat spirit #zodiacs #fruits basket #fruits basket manga #fruits basket season 3 #fruits basket meta #love vs pity #meta #akito sohma #akira sohma #kazuma sohma

[tenthgrove]

hi! could i request some platonic la squadra with a team member who's autistic and mainly stims by repeating short phrases (echolalia but idk how to phrase it) and has/had a hard time unmasking around them? feel free to take as many liberties as you need to, your writing is so fun to read! <33

La Squadra Says Autism Rights

La Squadra x Reader (GN), Platonic, SFW

(A/N: I just wanted to say a particular thank you to this requester because I've been itching to write autistic reader headcanons for months and this finally gave me the right prompt to do it. I definitely want to write more in the future.)

Formaggio- He might be neurotypical, but autism runs in his family (and his social circle as an adult) so he's learned a fair bit how best to interact with you people. He knows his loudness and teasing can be an issue for autistic people with sensory issues or trouble with sarcasm, so he'll drop it around you if that's the case. As far as he's concerned your vocal stim is a non-issue because 'some people just do that, it doesn't hurt anyone' and he doesn't comment on it unless you're using it to show happiness, in which case he always acts chuffed. He behaves sympathetically to your troubles with masking, and makes a point of acting laid-back so it's easy for you to turn down the pressure on yourself. To Formaggio, not being able to be yourself would be one of the worst fates imaginable, so he wants to do what he can to make it easier for you to let loose.

Illuso- You might expect Illuso's understanding to be low, but at this point with so much of the team being neurodivergent themselves Illuso doesn't bat an eyelid. Repeating short phrases is certainly a new one, but nothing he can't put up with. Sometimes, he might ask you what your murmurings mean, but he doesn't mean it in a judgy way. Now, as for your masking, you would be surprised how much he can relate. Illuso's self esteem is secretly down the gutter, and he often feels like the confident persona he puts on is secretly an act. When you tell him you feel like you're putting a show every day of your life, he feels you. The two of you have a lot of heartfelt conversations when you're alone, confessing how you really feel about yourselves away from the act you're performing. It's not something Illuso does often, be this honest even with a friend. But he can't help but find that it's... therapeutic.

Prosciutto- Like with anything a friend of his may be insecure about, Prosciutto very much looks at autism through the lens of identifying positives. This by no means says that he ignores your difficulties or tries to creative positives that aren't there, only that he takes note of your strengths no matter how much you try to deny them and makes sure you remember you have them. He doesn't try to 'fix' your echolalia because he knows it's better to work with an autistic person's traits than erase them, but he does teach you mental diversion techniques to help you tone the stim down when you need to (e.g. when you're trying to be stealthy). Regarding your masking, he can somewhat admire it as a useful skill to have- it's possible you could turn it into the skills of an excellent actor while under cover, but he also appreciates the impact this must be having on your self-esteem to have to hide yourself 24/7, so he wants to help you learn to cut it down. This, of course, is done through plenty of praise and reminding of your strengths. You are a wonderful addition to the team, even without your mask, and he won't let you think any less.

Pesci- When Pesci gets stressed it affects him a lot too. Sometimes he does things like fiddle with random items in his hands until they break or bounce his leg so hard the table shakes, which always get him strange looks. He appreciates the rationale of your stimming and would never judge you for it. If you're in a situation where you absolutely need to stop stimming, for instance if a team is visiting who isn't on good terms with La Squadra, he is a good bet for subtly and respectfully helping you be aware of when you're starting to do it so you can quickly stop. Just a gentle nudge to your arm when you start to whisper is all it takes. He also has a lot of empathy for the fact you has to mask, since he imagines it to be like a more extreme version of how he had to invent this whole 'tough guy' personality after he got involved in the gang. He found that really hard too, so he can imagine what it must be life to do that sort of thing your whole life. At least with him, you feel less of a pressure to put on an act.

Melone- There's a certain intellectual curiosity in Melone towards the various neurodivergent conditions, compounded by a strong personal empathy now he has so many friends who have them. He is saddened by the failure of the common consensus to understand such individuals, and wants to do what he can to help them appreciate their full, unique potentials. Melone is quick to recognise your behaviour as stimming, and hence understands that the stress of being called out on it would only make it worse. He is sympathetic to your plight with masking, and has a few ideas you could try if you want to start reducing it in safe circumstances. He has heard that one barrier to unmasking can be trouble identifying the 'true self' you have to go back to, so to remedy this he asks non-critical questions that help you explore your real, unmasked personality and be comfortable in it. Whenever you go off-script and talk to him as your true-self, he praises you for it and assures you that you are just as wonderful a person to him like this.

Ghiaccio- We arrive at the first member on the list who (in my headcanon) is autistic himself. Although the mangling of verbal speech is typically annoying to him, Ghiaccio would never become angry at someone who did it because of their neurodivergence. After all, if he didn't respect the effects of your autism, what reason do you have to return the favour? Ghiaccio makes a point of not hurrying you along when you start to repeat yourself as a stimming technique, and it goes a long way with helping you be calm around him. The masking however, is a different matter. He's not going to be angry at you per say, since he knows from experience the pressure you must be facing to put on an act this way, but he very much prefers it when people are their authentic selves around him. After all, he has enough issues knowing their true intentions as it is. He won't get angry, but he will gently encourage you to open up about him, even if it's something as little as stating what you really want point-blank when you're nervous too. He is very understanding about how hard this is, however.

Risotto- Another autistic individual himself, Risotto is also perfectly empathetic to your behaviour. As an adult, he doesn't really stim, rather just faze out entirely, but at the end of the day that still gets him a lot of strange looks so he can appreciate the range of feelings you may have about your own stim. What's really great about Risotto is that he learns pretty quickly how to differentiate between your happy-stims and your stress-stims, to an extent nobody else on the team is able to. He always seems very content to see you happy-stim, warmed by the knowledge that you are feeling good right now. As for your stress-stims, he is quick to help you escape from the situation if at all possible, and hold your hand comfortingly if not. And the whole masking thing? He understands painfully well. Risotto's masking game on-point, but it irks him greatly to keep it up, not to mention that he hates the paralysing anxiety that hits him whenever he tries to unmask. Even when he wants to, he can't always be himself in front of the team. He may not have a solution for you, but he at least has his full empathy.

Sorbet and Gelato- While Sorbet is, as far as he's aware, neurotypical, Gelato is very much autistic as well. He's also got ADHD to boot, so he's well versed in the neurodivergent experience. His stim is quite similar to yours, in that he makes quiet, high-pitched, almost chirp-like noises, so he sees your echolalia as something he has in common with you. Gelato doesn't really bother with masking any more, the only exception being people who could quite literally kill him if he offended them. Though he encourages you to let go and be yourself, consequences be damned, he of course completely understands the pressure to keep masking. Sorbet, despite being neurotypical, is at this point more surrounded by autistics than not. He's been married to Gelato for the best part of the decade, his closest friend is Risotto, and he's practically Ghiaccio's dad at this point. Adding one more neurodivergent to the mix is hardly a big step, and he is very well-versed in your behaviours and how to interact with them.

#la squadra #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra x reader #formaggio #formaggio x reader #illuso #illuso x reader #prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #pesci #pesci x reader #melone #melone x reader #ghiaccio #ghiaccio x reader #risotto nero #risotto nero x reader #sorbet and gelato #sorbet and gelato x reader

[themollyjay]

The Myths of Forced Diversity and Virtue Signaling.

In my novel Mail Order Bride, the three main characters are a lesbian and two agendered aliens.  In my novel Scatter, the main character is a lesbian, the love interest is a pansexual alien, and the major side characters include a half Cuban, half black Dominican lesbian, a Chinese Dragon, a New York born Jewish Dragon, and a Transgender Welsh Dragon.  In my novel The Master of Puppets, the Main Characters are a lesbian shapeshifting reptilian alien cyborg and a half black, half Japanese lesbian.  The major side characters include three gender fluid shapeshifting reptilian alien cyborgs, and a pansexual human.  In my novel Transistor, the main character is a Trans Lesbian, the love interest is a Half human/Half Angel non-observant Ethiopian Jew, and the major side characters include a Transgender Welsh Dragon (the same one from Scatter), a Transgender woman, a Latino Lesbian, an autistic man, three Middle Eastern Arch Angels, and a hive mind AI with literally hundreds of genders.  In my novel The Inevitable singularity, one of the main characters is a lesbian, another has a less clearly defined sexuality but she is definitely in love with the lesbian, and the third is functionally asexual due to a vow of chastity she takes very seriously.  The major side characters include a straight guy from a social class similar to the Dalit (commonly known as untouchables) in India, a bisexual woman, a man who is from a race of genetically modified human/frog hybrids, and a woman from a race of genetically modified humans who are bred and sold as indentured sex workers.

Why am I bringing all of this up?  Well, first, because it’s kind of cool to look at the list of different characters I’ve created, but mostly because it connects to what I want to talk about today, which should be obvious from the title of the essay.  The concepts of ‘forced diversity’ and ‘virtue signaling’.

For those who aren’t familiar with these terms, they’re very closely related concepts.  ‘Forced Diversity’ is the idea that characters who aren’t neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males are only ever included in a story because of outside pressure from some group (usually called Social Justice Warriors, or The Woke Brigade or something similar) to meet some nebulous political agenda.  The caveat to this is, of course, that you can have a women/women present as long as they are hot, don’t make any major contributions to the resolution of the plot, and the hero/heroes get to fuck them before the end of the story. ‘Virtue Signaling’, according to Wikipedia, is a pejorative neologism for the expression of a disingenuous moral viewpoint with the intent of communicating good character.

The basic argument is that Forced Diversity is a form of virtue signaling.  That no one would ever write characters who aren’t neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males because they want to.  They only do it to please the evil SJW’s who are somehow both so powerful that they force everybody to conform to their desires, yet so irrelevant that catering to them dooms any creative project to financial failure via the infamous ‘go woke, go broke’ rule.

What the people who push this idea of Forced Diversity tend to forget is that we exist at a point in time when creators actually have more creative freedom than are any other people in history.  Comic writers can throw up a website and publish their work as a webcomic without having to go through Marvel, DC or one of the other big names, or get a place in the dying realm of the news paper comics page.  Novelists can self-publish with fairly little upfront costs, musicians can use places like YouTube and Soundcloud to get their work out without having to worry about music publishers.  Artists can hock their work on twitter and tumblr and a dozen other places. Podcasts are relatively cheap to make, which has opened up a resurgence in audio dramas.  Even the barrier to entry for live action drama is ridiculously low.

So, in a world where creators have more freedom than ever before, why would they choose to people their stories with characters they don’t want there?  The answer, of course, is that they wouldn’t.  Authors, comic creators, indie film creators and so on aren’t putting diverse characters into their stories because they are being forced to. They’re putting diverse characters into their stories because they want to.  Creators want to tell stories about someone other than the generically handsome hypermasculine cisgendered heterosexual white males that have been the protagonists of so many stories over the years that we’ve choking on it. A lot of times, creators want to tell stories about people like themselves.  Black creators want to tell stories about the black experience. Queer creators want to tell stories about the queer experience.

I’m an autistic, mentally ill trans feminine abuse survivor.  Every day, I get up and I struggle with PTSD, with an eating disorder, with severe body dysmorphia, with anxiety and depression and just the reality of being autistic and transgender.  I deal with the fact that the religious community I grew up in views me as an abomination, and genuinely believes I’m going to spend eternity burning in hell.  I deal with the fact that people I’ve known for decades, even members of my own family, regularly vote for politician who publicly state that they want to strip me of my civil rights because I’m queer.  I’m part of a community that experiences a disproportionately high murder and suicide rate.  I’ve spent multiple years of my life deep in suicidal depression, and to this day, I still don’t trust myself around guns.

As a creator, I want to talk about those issues.  I want to deal with my life experiences.  I want to create characters that embody and express aspects of my lived experience and my day-to-day reality.  No one is forcing me to put diversity into my books.  I try to include Jewish characters as often as I can because there have been a number of important Jewish people in my life.  I include queer people because I’m queer and the vast majority of friends I interact with on a regular basis are queer.  I include people with mental illnesses and trauma because I am mentally ill and have trauma, and I know a lot of people with mental illnesses and trauma.  My work may be full of fantastical elements, aliens and dragons and angels and superheroes and magic and ultra-high technology and AI’s and talking cats and robot dogs and shape shifters and telepaths and all sorts of other things, but at the core of the stories is my own lived experience, and neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males are vanishingly rare in that experience.

Now, I can hear the comments already.  The ‘okay, maybe that’s true for individual creators, but what about corporate artwork?’.   Maybe not in those exact words, but you get the idea.

The thought here is that corporations are bowing to social pressure to include characters who aren’t neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males, and that is somehow bad. But here’s the thing. Corporations are going to chase the dollars.  They aren’t bowing to social pressure.  There’s no one holding a gun to some executive’s head saying, “You must have this many diversity tokens in every script.”  What is happening is that corporations are starting to clue into the fact that people who aren’t neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males have money.  They are putting black characters in their shows and movies because black people watch shows and spend money on movies.  They are putting queer people in shows and movies because queer people watch shows and spend money on movies.  They are putting women in shows and movies because women watch shows and spend money on movies.

No one is forcing these companies to do this.  They are choosing to do it, the same way individual creators are choosing to do it.  In the companies’ cases the choices are made for different reasons.  It’s not because they are necessarily passionate about telling stories about a particular experience, but because they want to create art to be consumed by the largest audience possible, which means that they have to expand their audience beyond the neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white male by including characters from outside of that demographic.

And the reality is, the cries of ‘forced diversity’ and ‘virtue signaling’ almost always come from within that demographic.  Note the almost.  There are a scattering of individuals from outside that demographic which do subscribe to the ‘forced diversity’ and ‘virtue signaling’ myths, but that is a whole other essay.  However, within that demographic, lot of the people who cry about ‘forced diversity’ see media and content as a Zero-Sum game.  The more that’s created for other people, the less that is created for them.

In a way, they’re right. There are only so many slots for TV shows each week, there are only so many theaters, only so much space on comic bookshelves and so on.  But at the end of the day, its literally impossible for them to consume all the content that’s being produced anyway.  So, while there is, theoretically less content for them to consume, as a practical matter it’s a bit like someone who is a meat eater going to a buffet with two hundred items, and then throwing a tantrum because five of the items happen to be vegan.

The worst part is, if they could let go of how wound up they are about the ‘forced diversity’ and ‘virtue signaling’ they could probably enjoy the content that’s produced for people other than them.  I mean, I’m a pasty ass white girl, and I loved Black Panther.

So, to wrap out, creators, make what you want to make, and ignore anyone who cries about forced diversity or virtue signaling.  And to people who are complaining about forced diversity and virtue signaling, I want to go back to the buffet metaphor.  You need to relax.  Even if there are a few vegan options on the buffet, you can still get your medium rare steak, or your chicken teriyaki or whatever it is you want.  Or, maybe, just maybe, you could give the falafel a try. That shit is delicious.

#writing #original fiction #media #representation #diversity #the war of souls #the hearts of heroes #The Master of Puppets #scatter #transistor #the inevitable singularity #mail order bride

[zenrayne]

Learn presence for negative thoughts and emotions

This can be applied to any feeling. I’ve tried this with my anxiety, depression, dpdr (depersonalization/derealization), CPTSD, PTSD, anxiety attacks.

there’s always a reason as to why you feel the way you feel. Some event in your life made you where you would be seen by someone else as being “irrational” if something remotely related to that initial stressful event would happen again. So technically our body isn’t being irrational, but trying to protect us. Even though we understand at that irrational moment nothing is actually happening that should be making us be feeling this way—even if it’s ridiculous and isn’t connected to any type of event prior—it is still happening. The fact our body is reacting to it and is feeling overwhelmed we shouldn’t feel that we are being irrational but be gentle with ourselves like a parent soothes their child.

I’ve started validating how I was feeling and accepting that something triggered me even if I don’t know what it was and/or just an over exaggeration. Because If you tell yourself “I’m overreacting I’m just being irrational why can’t I just be calm like everyone else”, this completely gaslights yourself (denies your own reality). In essence our body freaks out more because instinctually this does feel like a reason to be anxious to our body. When I validate I accept that this is happening even if I think it’s wrong and I shouldn’t be feeling this. I validate and accept that this is how I’m feeling even if it’s from something small.

Then I dive into the feeling. This part feels very impossible to do if you’ve never done it before but trust me the fear of facing/feeling fully the fear is greater than actually feeling it. Over time the more we deny our feelings and thoughts, we become more and more disconnected with ourself. It becomes hard to enjoy life fully and numbs out a part of us we actually really need to pay attention to. Our negative emotion is a direct path to finding how to make us feel better. It’s like a symptom from a cold, you have to first accept that you have symptoms of an illness to then be able to diagnose and then treat that sickness. You have to first accept you are having this emotion to be able to find the root of the problem and to then come up with a plan to “fix” the problem.

When I first validated and dived into my anxiety I very quickly felt calmer. It was the first time I was ever actually present with myself and I’ve been having panic attacks since I was almost 5 from abuse. It took me awhile though so what I’m saying here is it isn’t easy at all. In fact if you believe you can’t do this by yourself do this with a therapist or a family member or friend that understands you and what you’re going through. When I first did it I had been crying and hyperventilating for over an hour then suddenly I remembered something I read about being present with yourself through hard moments. Then I just decided to try it, because what the hell I already am losing my shit why not try something different for once. So I validated myself and made myself open to feel whatever it was that felt like it was going to burst in my chest. I closed my eyes and I heard silence, my rushing thoughts had stopped, the room had stopped spinning, and I felt better.

Not every time does this happen. One time I did this and instead of feeling relief I actually felt the pain inside of me first. It was so painful! I have no idea how else to describe it but it was so much grief it felt like the pain of losing your soulmate and your family type of grief. When I opened myself up I allowed however much time I needed. So I felt this pain for 40+ minutes; just ugly sobbing on the floor in my kitchen. I was trying my best to let me handle this situation naturally without forcing myself to do anything or to feel anything. I just wanted to let my emotions flow through and out of me. At one point I naturally felt the urge to accept whatever upset me. I accepted that it happened and I decided to use the rain to grow and not to be drowned anymore by it. So .. I hugged myself. I hugged myself and kept saying “it’s okay. There is a reason why I’m feeling this and it’s okay. I’m here now with you (myself) I’m here. I’m not leaving this time.” I said this to myself 7x before I calmed down. A few times after this event I did the same method again but I didn’t have to cry so much to feel better. But another time after I had cried a bit more. Based on how big the situation is impacting you depends on how long you need to sit with yourself to do this process. I’m sure in my future I will have to sit with myself for days, months probably years before I can accept and let go so I can form a plan to move forward. And this is completely fine if you feel this is you.

So I learned that telling yourself you shouldn’t feel the way you feel, and think the way you think is the biggest form of self betrayal you could ever do. So with the example of anxiety: when I read a ton of times people saying facing your fears will help you overcome it I would get pissed off because obviously in my mind they didn’t understand anxiety especially anxiety disorders. What I learned though is that phrase can be looked at another way: it’s not always literally facing your fear physically, but facing the fear mentally.

For people with anxiety disorders it can take a couple to a whole bunch of times to get past that one fear. Which is why exposure therapy works so well for anxiety disorders: it’s the only time you ever have to purposely try to be in that moment with the fear, to be with yourself in that moment. Where overtime the fear gets less and less. Our body isn’t scared of the actual fear most of the time, it’s usually scared of what we think will be the outcome of that fear based on an experience or hearing something bad happening to someone else. It’s all in the mind and that’s the first place you should learn to be present with when all you want to do is run or disappear from whatever’s causing the anxiety. What’s the first thing a regular parent does when seeing their child upset? They sit with them. Then they tell them it’s okay to feel the way they do: giving them permission to feel. And then they give advice to move forward. This process should be done with every relationship we have with others and ourself.

All of this can be applied to any emotion good or bad. I say good because some people find it hard to accept happiness. The first step is to validate your feelings! Accept that this is happening and it was caused by something big or small or nothing at all and that’s fine. Working towards moving on would to be to be more open to future happiness.

You can take this model of validating, accepting, letting go/moving forward, and transform your entire life. being present with your own thoughts, feelings, emotions has to be done first and only then can you work forward to heal, grow, or let go.

My advice is to do this when you’re in a crisis and can’t reach any help. Do this when you have a very strong emotion that you find yourself to be pushing against. You can do this actually whenever you want. You can start off with small emotions and work your way up. For DPDR (depersonalization/derealization) do this whenever you want. DPDR is an intense form of disconnection that causes dissociation. Learning to be present with any emotion will help you to over time become more and more connected with yourself. If you find yourself really hesitant to do this, that’s perfectly fine. Just know that the more hesitant you are the more you know in the future you need to attempt this process. The more hesitant you are the more intense the emotion is from past self rejection: your body can become so disconnected from continuous self rejection that your subconscious doesn’t trust you to stay present and therefore will make it harder for you to access that part of yourself. This can be done by creating extreme fear and panic the closer you get to feeling. This can be done by blocking a memory you can’t access. Theres lots of ways your mind can block or distract you from reaching a memory or feeling that was too painful for your past self to handle. This is done out of protection for that part of you and for yourself as well, so both parts within you don’t have to confront whatever is causing your intense emotion. This is why I strongly suggest doing this under the guidance of a therapist whether in session or not.

☀️💛 Good luck stay safe beautiful angels 💛☀️

#cptsdhealing #cptsd #ptsdsupport #ptsd #mental heath support #mentalwellness #mentalheathawareness #self healing #self care #self love #dpdr #depersonalization #derealization #healing #mindfulness #recovery #cptsd coping #consciousness #consciousliving #self help #mental health #meditation #magick #conjure #hoodoo #pagan #spirtuality #spirtualhealing #motivateyourself #motivation

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

and the void looked back to say i love you (Part Five)

A/N: i know i typically update this series on saturdays, but tomorrow is the start of mcc season 2. and i have part 5 done, so i'm updating it a day earlier! enjoy!

Warnings: teasing/banter, bickering, strangely wholesome eldritch horror moments (spooky lady gets instantly attached to bird child, said bird child finds this a little creepy at first), mild anxiety, kissing, mild embarrassment

Masterpost

-

Wilbur now joined Phil’s visits down to the void, and sometimes just Wilbur would come while Phil was off trying to finish off the tunnel to the Overworld or gathering materials for other projects. Now that Wilbur was quickly becoming a cemented part of her and Phil’s life, Kristin realized she couldn’t imagine it without Wilbur. He was strangely cheerful for a ghost kid, and he enjoyed talking to Kristin about anything and everything he found interesting in the Overworld. Kristin adored listening to him speak, and she couldn’t help but be reminded of Phil when he had first started visiting Kristin in the void. While they weren’t related by blood, Wilbur was definitely Phil’s son.

It wasn’t long before another change came to Kristin’s once bleak, dark domain- now filled with light and life. The tunnel from Phil’s home to the void was complete, and both Phil and Wilbur were being strangely insistent that she stay put for a little longer while they went back up to make sure it was safe for travel. Not that she minded- she wasn’t sure if she was quite ready to travel up to the Overworld yet, but at the very least she was happy that Phil and Wilbur had an easier way of visiting her now.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” a voice whined from above, one Kristin didn’t recognize.

“We’re going to meet Mumza!” a chipper voice replied, undoubtedly Wilbur.

“Phil still isn’t my dad, big man,” the first voice grumbled back.

“But you said we were like brothers! So that means Phil’s our dad and Kristin is our mum!” Wilbur answered matter-of-factly.

“You’re so weird. Why’s Phil’s wife all the way down here anyway?” the voice asked, and it wasn’t long before Kristin saw a head of unruly blond hair poke in from the newly-made tunnel entrance. For a brief moment, she thought the kid was Phil, before he tumbled down with a shriek, slowly drifting down to the void below. Kristin blinked in surprise. It wasn’t the first time someone had tumbled down into her domain, but it certainly was the first time that someone had fallen slowly. Kristin soon saw the reason the boy fell slowly- there were white feathers tipped in red growing from his arms, almost like wings. Kristin also saw tufts of feathers where the boy’s ears should be, patterned similarly to the ones on his arms. She drew herself up further from the void, reaching out her hands to catch the child. Phil hopped down into Kristin’s outstretched hands as well, carrying Wilbur. A few crows were flocked around Phil as well, cawing excitedly at Kristin and the people in her hands. Once Phil set Wilbur down next to the new kid, Kristin noted that he was much younger than Wilbur was.

“Philza, your wife is HUGE!” the kid gasped, open-mouthed as he stared up at Kristin. The crows squawked in amusement, hopping around the kid and flying up to perch on his shoulders.

“Tommy,” Phil said disapprovingly, while Kristin couldn’t help but giggle.

“Phil, this child you’ve brought me is small!” she teased right back, enjoying the responding chorus of laughter and caws from the crows, as well as the kid’s (Tommy’s?) resulting irritated expression.

“I’ll have you know that I am massive,” he muttered, feathers puffing up in irritation.

“A massive pain,” Wilbur said with a grin, playfully elbowing him. The kid looked about ready to shove Wilbur into the void, while Phil was (poorly) hiding his smile behind his hand.

“Could I maybe get an introduction?” Kristin asked, before the situation could escalate any further.

“This is Tommy. He and Wilbur sort of latched onto each other. Wilbur wanted him to come meet you down here… so I guess we have two kids now,” Phil said with a fond chuckle. Kristin smiled, nodding in approval.

“And he’s a bird, like you. I like him,” Kristin said definitively. Phil muttered something about how he still wasn’t a bird, but Kristin just smiled brighter. She wasn’t quite sure what it was- maybe it was how much Tommy seemed like Phil, how much Wilbur seemed to like him, or maybe it was some deep part of herself that just knew, like how the void was a constant and absolute certainty- but it was like Tommy was meant to be part of their little family. Their family had been fine as it was before, but Tommy somehow filled a gap that Kristin hadn’t even realized was there.

“Lady, I don’t know you,” Tommy said bluntly. Kristin couldn’t help but laugh again, while Phil looked on in fond exasperation.

“I’m Kristin, Queen of the Void. And I can’t explain it, but you just… fit. Like there was something missing before that’s now been found. That’s all,” Kristin said softly. Tommy seemed to consider this, before leaning over towards Wilbur with a hand over his mouth.

“Wil, our mum is fucking creepy,” Tommy said in a frankly very audible whisper. Three different exclamations happened at once, as well as a ruckus from the crows.

“Tommy!” “Aww, you said our mum!”

“Should a child be swearing?”

“Wilbur and Phil swear,” Tommy pouted.

“I’m more concerned about you being rude to Kristin,” Phil said with a laugh.

“Phil, your wife is a giant void lady. My description is acc-ur-ate. No offense,” Tommy said, sheepishly turning to Kristin.

“None taken!” Kristin said brightly. Tommy grinned up at Kristin, and while she had always found Phil’s smile bright, he had some stiff competition with Tommy. The kid could radiate sunshine, and Kristin wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

“You still haven’t admitted that you called Kristin ‘mum,’” Wilbur teased with a massively smug grin. Yet again, Kristin was reminded of Phil. There was no mistaking the fact that they were family, even if it wasn’t by blood.

“I thought crows were supposed to bring shiny things, but instead you keep bringing in children. How many more should I expect?” Kristin teased, her own smile likely mirroring Wilbur’s- she was his parent too, after all.

“I don’t mean to keep bringing in kids, they just kinda-”

“Does this mean Tubbo and Ranboo get to be my brothers now? What about Jack and Niki?” Tommy asked, interrupting Phil. He looked up at Phil expectantly, and he laughed nervously.

“Like I was going to say- I don’t exactly take in kids, they just sorta find me. Wilbur and Tommy are the only ones I’ve ‘officially’ taken in,” Phil explained with a sheepish smile.

“Well, why not take in the rest of those kids then?” Kristin offered with a grin.

“You don’t have to take in Ranboo if you don’t want to,” Tommy piped up. One crow cawed at him disapprovingly, to which Tommy responded by sticking out his tongue at it.

“Kristin, we can’t take in every lost hybrid kid- or really just any kid I come across,” Phil said with a laugh. Kristin tilted her head to one side with a frown.

“Well why not?” she asked. Phil’s hands gestured uselessly for a moment or two, before he dropped them with a sigh.

“We’re just two people, Kristin. And you live in the void, I’m not even sure if we could get Niki down here, she can’t leave the water- well, maybe if we…” Phil trailed off, muttering to himself. Kristin looked to the opening in the ceiling, where the tunnel to Phil’s house was. Then she looked at the boys in her hands. Phil and his crows, with all the adventures he’d had, the adventures that she wanted to join him on. Wilbur, the phantom hybrid who had stumbled into her life and despite his apparent aversion to sunlight, brought nothing but light and laughter with all his stories of the Overworld. Then the newest one, Tommy. Like Phil and Wilbur, he seemed to bring light into Kristin’s otherwise dark existence. If there were others out there- Tubbo, Ranboo, Jack, and Niki- then who was she to leave them above, in a world where she wasn’t there for them if they needed her? Hell, how could she stay in the void when the current members of her family were already without her most of the time?

“Then I guess I’ll have to come up to meet her. And the others. And for you,” Kristin said, smiling despite the way anxiety coiled in her stomach. Phil’s expression softened, his rambling ceasing almost immediately. He spread his wings and flew up to Kristin’s eye level, reaching out for a moment until he pulled his hand back with a sigh. Wordlessly, she raised the hand Wilbur and Tommy were sitting on up towards the tunnel entrance. With only some mild bickering between Wilbur and Tommy, the two of them (and the crows) clambered out of her hand and to the tunnel above. Once the boys were safe, Kristin shrunk herself down to Phil’s size to take his hands.

“Kristin, I- we don’t know if you even can leave the void. And if you can, what if it hurts you to be away from it? I can’t- I-” Phil stopped mid sentence when Kristin let go of one of his hands to instead reach up and put a hand on his cheek. He leaned into the touch, a sound resembling a coo escaping his lips unbidden.

“But being down here hurts you. The skies are your home, and I want to soar through it with you. Someday,” Kristin said, adding the “someday” as a bit of an afterthought. As much as she wanted to see the Overworld, there was a lot of residual anxiety that was hard to let go of.

“You are my home, Kristin,” Phil murmured softly,

“And you’re mine. I want to be able to experience it with you,” Kristin said firmly. A ridiculously sappy smile spread over Phil’s face, and he reached up to clasp his hand over the one Kristin had resting on his cheek.

“Well if you’re sure- I’d love to fly with you whenever you’re ready,” he replied. Kristin smiled, a bit misty-eyed, and leaned up to kiss his forehead. When she pulled away, Phil didn’t let her get too far by leaning his forehead against hers.

“Tomorrow,” Kristin said softly.

“Tomorrow?”

“Come back tomorrow to bring me to the Overworld. I just need a little time to mentally prepare,” Kristin explained with a smile. Phil squeezed the hand she was still holding, and his other hand let go of her hand on his face and reached out to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Only if you’re sure,” he murmured. Kristin let out a small laugh, then closed the little distance between them to pull Phil into a soft kiss.

“I’m positive,” Kristin said, voice barely a whisper but no less steady and sure. Phil kissed her again, pulling away with a breathless giggle.

“I love you,” he said, grinning widely. Kristin was absolutely sure her smile mirrored his, and she let go of his hand and dropped the hand on his cheek to instead hug him tightly. Phil returned the embrace easily, wings shifting to wrap around Kristin. He didn’t have to worry about staying aloft, not while Kristin held him.

“I love you too,” she murmured into his ear.

“You think they’re done talking?” came a rather loud whisper from the entrance above. Kristin pulled away the slightest bit to meet Phil’s fondly exasperated expression, and she giggled despite herself.

“Shh! I think they heard you!” came another not-so-quiet whisper, unmistakably Wilbur.

“We can still hear you,” Phil called out, stealing one last kiss from Kristin before pulling back and flying up to the tunnel entrance with a wink. Kristin shook her head with a laugh, returning to her typical towering size.

“You boys gonna head out?” Kristin asked. Tommy poked his head out, frowning.

“Aww, already? But we didn’t even get to talk to you much, Philza hogged you the entire time!” Tommy protested.

“She is my wife, mate,” Phil scoffed with a laugh.

“Well she’s my mum!” Tommy shot back. Tommy seemed to realize what he said the instant he said it, face flushing slightly.

“Aww, you called me mum again!” Kristin chirped, beaming with pride.

“No I didn’t!” Tommy insisted, retreating back into the tunnel enough that his head was no longer poking out. Some scuffling was heard, and soon Tommy came tumbling through the opening, feathered limbs slowing his fall. Kristin quickly brought her hands up to catch him, and he landed with a soft thump.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“WILBUR FUCKING PUSHED ME!” Tommy shouted, scrambling to his feet and glaring up at the ceiling. Tommy was met with laughter from Wilbur, which was soon cut off with a surprised shriek of Phil’s name. Wilbur fell from the opening soon after, Phil’s laughter following him.

“Your bird instincts are showing again,” Kristin teased Phil, after she had caught Wilbur as well.

“What instincts?!” Phil demanded, flying down from the entrance to perch on Kristin’s shoulder.

“The ones where you throw our kids off things so that they can fly,” she replied with a grin. Phil frowned but flushed in slight embarrassment, his crows flying down to heckle him.

“I’m not even a bird!” Wilbur protested. Tommy gave some quip in response, starting another bickering match between the two- but frankly Kristin was too busy with the feelings of safety, home, and love that seemed to flow alongside the void to really pay attention. She hoped that those feelings would increase tenfold the next day, when she finally visited the world of her family.

-

MCYT Fic Taglist (lmk if you want to be added!): @corazon10000 @franticfandomfanatic @space-ace123

#osmp #osmp fic #philza #mumza #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #osmp philza #void!kristin #osmp wilbur #osmp tommy #mcyt #fluff #sage writes

[tunedtostatic]

i’ll be shelter, keep you safe and warm

Arkady wraps her jacket around Violet in the back of a getaway car. Violet returns the favor at a formal reception.

3.2k, Vikady, with cameos by crew and an OC

Also posted at archiveofourown dot org, /works/32625262

CW: weather (hot and cool) and related financial issues, PTSD, scars, anxiety, brief mention of carsickness, canon-typical peril

~

Title is from “Shelter” by Joy Oladokun

Arkady coming out of a PTSD interlude with a one-liner is inspired by “i am strong enough to let you in” by findyourstars, archiveofourown dot org, /works/18482959

This fic came from wanting to write The Draping Jacket Around Shoulders Trope for Vikady and being unable to decide between an Arkady jacket or a Violet jacket until I realized the obvious answer was BOTH. I wrote most of this a couple of weeks ago (the tone of the end of Chapter 1 has been fighting me but I think I finally worked it out...), so before episode 8 dropped, although I guess nothing in Chapter 2 was really jossed but rather just made more painful? Woof.

~

1.

Violet slides into the backseat of the getaway car so fast she nearly careens into Arkady’s lap.

“Well hello there, Liu.” Violet can hear Arkady’s grin as she helps Violet disentangle herself, pulling the seatbelt of the seat next to her across Violet’s chest and lap in one smooth motion.

“Thanks! Arkady!” Violet pants, fighting a grin as she takes deep breaths after her sprint to the car. She doesn’t think she was being pursued, but their improvised backup exit strategy didn’t exactly leave much buffer time.

“Anyone on our tail?” Sana calls from the front.

Arkady turns to look out the rear window as Sana steers them out of the IGR building parking lot and back onto city streets. “Not seeing anyone.”

As Violet’s breathing slows, Arkady adjusts her knee so that it isn’t digging as deeply into Violet’s thigh and settles into the awkward backwards-leaning position. “I’ll keep watch for another few minutes.”

“Don’t make yourself carsick, Kady. Remember that time when—”

“No! No, I don’t, and neither do you.”

Violet laughs. The pent-up tension of the last few hours is diminishing now that she’s safe with Sana and Arkady, successful and on their way home to the Iris.

She sinks back in her seat, surreptitiously eyeballing Arkady for signs of injury as Arkady continues her lookout out the back window and Sana focuses on the road. Arkady doesn’t look hurt, and Sana probably would have shot them a “Let Violet take a look at your…” by now if she was.

That Arkady seems cheerful is confirmation enough that Sana is fine, and Violet relaxes a little more in her seat.

They did it. She did it. This plan depended on Violet as much as it depended on any of the other members of the crew, and she has the shaky elation that comes in the aftermath of danger. She did it, and it’s over now.

As they slip toward the city limits, Arkady finally settles into her seat facing forward, and the kneecap poking into Violet’s vastus lateralis disappears, replaced by the warmth of their thighs touching.

“I’ll keep an eye out, but looks like we’re in the clear.”

Sana acknowledges this, and Arkady turns to give Violet her full attention.

“How are you doing, Violet?”

“Fine.” Violet exhales, beginning to grin. “Good. Great, actually. That went well, didn’t it?”

“You were amazing, Liu.” Arkady smiles. “And yeah, aside from one of us deciding the best improvised extraction plan was to steal the most expensive car in the parking lot, it went okay.”

“More than okay.” Violet beams back at Arkady. “And I think it was very thoughtful of Tripathi not to deprive some broke IGR grunt of their family car.” She runs a hand over the seat leather and laughs, feeling a little giddy. “Besides...this car is nice.”

Arkady grumbles something about being happier once they’re back on the ship, and Violet settles back in her seat, used to Arkady’s recalcitrance about celebrating success until they’re well clear of it.

She smiles again. She did it, and it’s over.

Arkady has moved on to muttering about the building security system being tougher than expected and how easily it all could have gone wrong when suddenly she frowns. “Sure you’re okay, Liu? You’re, uh, shaking.”

“Oh.” Violet looks down at her arms. “Oh, um, I think that’s mostly the cold, actually? This air conditioning with this shirt…”

On the parked Iris, with fuel costs keeping the temperature reg no lower than a tolerable 78°F, the gauzy summer top had seemed like the perfect final touch to Violet’s civilian disguise. In the lobby of the IGR building, Violet had been reminded that not everyone had to take similar cost-cutting measures. Apparently that includes the rightful owners of the getaway car.

As though reading her thoughts, Arkady comments, “We should’ve remembered how cold rich people like their air conditioning.” Raising her voice, she adds, “Or, I don’t know, not stolen the 2191 BMW.”

“You know, that lobby reminded me of Harmony. The academic buildings were barely climate controlled, but walking into the admin building was like walking into the arctic.”

Arkady snorts, and they both look at the temperature control in the front, where Sana is now gripping the wheel and swearing.

Violet winces. “I’ll, um, ask her to adjust it once when we’re outside the city.”

Arkady removes a knife from her jacket.

“Uh, I don’t think a knife is going to help—”

Clipping the knife onto her belt, Arkady extracts two more knives and a switchblade, secreting each elsewhere on her person. Shrugging out of the jacket, she wraps it carefully around Violet’s shoulders.

In the dazed glow that takes up the next few seconds of Violet Liu’s life, words don’t really seem to be working for her, but she does manage to make a sound that comes out something like “Aghlf?”

The jacket is heavy around her shoulders, and it smells like Arkady, forming a barrier of safety and warmth between Violet and the rest of the universe. Violet slides her arms into the sleeves, snuggling into it.

“Um, the lockpick wires and emergency razors are still in the hems,” Arkady is mumbling, “so if it feels a little heavy, that’s why.”

“Mmmmm.”

“…Liu, are you listening to me?” Arkady’s voice shifts from sheepish to amused.

“Mm-hm.” Violet nestles her face into the jacket’s collar, breathing in the scents of engine oil and the cheap, supposedly forest-scented bath gel Arkady squirrels away in her room so Brian and Krejjh won’t use it in the Iris’s shared shower.

Arkady sounds like she’s trying not to laugh. “You know, I’m right here, if you’d rather hug the real deal than weirdly snuffle my jacket.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Violet makes sure to speak in a mischievous tone of voice so that Arkady knows she’s fully and completely joking. “This jacket does have a lot of your best qualities. It’s cute, and forest-scented, and really, really warm…”

“But can it do this?” Arkady wraps an arm around Violet, heavy and warm just like her jacket.

She rests her head against Violet’s hair, and Violet closes her eyes, trying to shut out every thought and sensation that isn’t the feeling of Arkady against her.

It’s possible, she concludes, that the aftermath of the con is leaving her a little more shaky than she initially thought.

Alone with Arkady’s voice in her comm but not a single safe person around her is, it turns out, a very real kind of alone. Now that she thinks about it, it might be the first time she’s been that alone since ADVANCE Labs. The museum heist was dangerous, of course, but Sana and Park were present. If Violet wanted to catch a glimpse of Sana’s smile or even the reassuring slouch of Park’s civilian posture, all she had to do was flutter her eyelashes and scan the room.

At the museum, Sana and Park’s presences hadn’t even come across to Violet’s conscious brain as comforting. Instead, it had felt like two more crew members who might meet an unspeakable fate along with Violet if something went wrong, and she had had to carefully control her fear about what it might be like to watch Sana get hurt or worse, or what it would mean for Arkady if neither of them returned to her. This morning as she pulled on the gauzy top and placed her comm in her ear, Violet had felt grateful that the crew member going most directly into danger was her.

She’s still grateful for that. But apparently even the weight of human love isn’t enough to crush the human brain’s instinctive horror at being surrounded by danger alone.

Violet realizes Arkady has been saying her name. She blinks, looking up into Arkady’s concerned face.

“Sorry. I’m okay.” Violet glances out the window. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was okay, but it was all…kind of a lot, I guess.”

“No kidding, Liu. Hey, it’s okay, okay?” Arkady rubs Violet’s arm over the surface of her own jacket. “Everything… Everything did go well. More importantly, it’s over. We’re, um, all okay?” She trails off, patting Violet’s shoulder awkwardly, and it strikes Violet for the first time how rare it is for Arkady to be in the position of offering comfort to Violet that doesn’t come from Arkady’s calm emergency self. “We’re all okay,” she repeats.

“Yeah.” Violet tucks her face into the crook of Arkady’s neck, breathing in the scent of Arkady herself, warm skin and the dream of a forest.

Arkady leans against the top of Violet’s head again, sighing into her hair. Violet closes her eyes, wondering if the part of her that knew there was a real chance she wouldn’t make it back to Arkady is still catching up to the fact that she has.

They embrace for a few more minutes before shifting to a more relaxed position, leaning on each other’s shoulders.

“How are you doing?” Arkady asks, neutral.

Violet considers the question, then nods. “Okay. Maybe not great. But okay.” She looks forward at Sana, then up into Arkady’s eyes. “We are okay.”

Silently, Arkady leans down to kiss her on the forehead, and Violet lets her body rest as the edges of the city whisk by.

2.

The atrium has been strung with hundreds of lights at the top of its columns, and between the lights, the string quartet, and the quantity of jewelry sparkling on everyone around them, Violet is beginning to feel like she’s in a scene from a film. As Arkady gracefully extracts them from one conversational circle and steers them toward another, Violet gives her suit jacket a firm tug, reminding herself that while Violet Liu is new to glittering receptions, the person she’s playing is not.

The part of Violet’s brain that isn’t consumed by keeping up her persona is, she would have to admit, enjoying both the suit and the feeling of Arkady’s hand on her arm as they glide across the atrium together, Arkady’s evening gown and capelet flowing behind them.

The cape was an improvisation. The only gown they’d been able to find on short notice was sleeveless, and while Arkady could have passed off the size of her biceps as her sweet-natured socialite self’s passion for rock climbing, fewer explanations would cover the scattered scars of over a decade of engine burns, knife fights, and the occasional bullet. Sana had fished a few yards of silk out of her fabric stash, and within hours Arkady was trying on a capelet that skimmed her elbows and fastened with a brooch between her collarbones.

Brian had gleefully informed her that it was an opera cape. Sana had been fairly certain that opera capes were longer. Brian had argued that opera capes were a supercategory and “womens’” included any that could conceivably be worn with an evening gown at the opera, and Arkady and Violet had escaped to the kitchen before the debate really took off.

As they glide across the atrium, Violet pushes the capelet debate aside, focusing back on her role as Arkady’s stately financier wife (“What’s a financier?” Krejjh had asked, leading to a debate Violet wasn’t lucky enough to dodge). It’s almost fun to let a hint of swagger into her walk, even if the part of her that’s enjoying the suit wishes that it could be her real name on Arkady’s lips and Arkady’s real laugh in her ear.

“Great, that’s the last of the key intel.” Arkady’s reassuring mutter is so low it’s almost subvocal. “I’m going to bring us to that group of functionaries, see if we can pick up any extra dirt on—”

She is cut off by a muffled boom, and the crowd around them flutters, people looking up and around for the source of the sound.

“Construction on the old library wing,” someone near them is announcing loudly. The crowd begins to settle back into its former patterns like a ruffled bird relaxing its feathers, and Violet turns back to Arkady, expecting her to continue leading them toward the group beside the string quartet, but Arkady is frozen, her body turned as though to shield Violet and completely still except for trembling.

Shit. Taking a calming breath, Violet steps in front of Arkady, filling her field of vision. Arkady is staring past her, her eyes glazed, and oh jesus, this hasn’t happened before, not during the day, not during a mission—

“Ar—” Shit. And she thought she resented being unable to use Arkady’s name a minute ago. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

Arkady unfreezes slightly. “Where…” she mumbles.

A small group nearby is starting to glance toward them. “Everything’s okay, honey,” Violet says loudly. “Why don’t we go get some air?”

“Why…” Arkady echoes. Her breathing is short and shallow. Violet swallows, afraid of what might happen to them if she grabs Arkady and tries to hustle her toward the door and equally afraid of what might happen to them if she doesn’t.

Think, Vi.

A man from the staring group says something to his companions that must be reassuring, because they stop ogling Violet and Arkady, falling back into their own conversation as the man steps away from the group and toward the two of them.

Violet schools her face into what she hopes is a mixture of authority and worry. “My apologies for bothering you and your friends. My wife—”

“The war?” the man asks quietly. His eyes are kind.

Sure. Yes, the war. Violet is halfway through nodding gratefully before she remembers there’s a solid chance it isn’t a lie.

“Anything I can do to help?” The man nods toward a corner of the atrium. “There’s a quicker way to the courtyard through there, if you think she’s ready to walk.”

“Are you ready to get some air, darling?” Violet asks tenderly, hoping the cloying pet names will remind Arkady of the role she’s playing even as she resents herself for having to guide Arkady out of one nightmare and back into another.

Arkady blinks at Violet. Somewhere in her dazed eyes Violet sees the stirring of an expression she’s seen many times before, from a room at ADVANCE Labs to the back of a getaway car, and she realizes that the thing she’s done that has gone furthest toward keeping them safe is letting some of her own fear show.

Arkady reaches toward Violet, and Violet takes her hand.

“You need,” Arkady grits out. “To tell me.”

“Don’t try to talk.” Violet keeps her tone soothing for the benefit of the stranger, hating herself for the real meaning behind her words. “Just walk with me, okay?” The last syllable is an idea. “’Kay?”

Arkady nods, and the three of them head for the door with the stranger leading the way through the crowd. Violet focuses on controlling her own breathing. What would the person she’s playing act like right now? Not much different than Violet. Worried about her wife. Grateful for the help of this stranger.

Would the person Violet is pretending to be be embarrassed for her wife to be seen like this? If so, that isn’t something Violet is going to portray.

The night air is cool when they slip into the courtyard. The man walks them to a bench, stepping back as Violet helps Arkady onto it.

“Anything else I can do?”

Violet shakes her head. “Thank you.”

“Good luck,” he replies gently, addressing both of them, before turning and walking back toward the atrium building. Violet exhales shakily as he disappears into it.

“I still don’t like rich people.”

Violet turns. Arkady is looking up at her. Her breathing is still shallow, but her eyes are clearer.

Violet laughs feebly, sitting beside her. “How are you doing?”

“Well, I’ve been better, Violet.” Arkady wipes a hand across her face. “Did I say—”

“You didn’t give us away, Arkady. You did great.”

Arkady grimaces at the second part, but doesn’t argue aloud.

“Me, on the other hand—” Violet stops, giving herself an internal shake for criticizing herself the way she was just wishing Arkady wouldn’t. “I would have figured something out,” she revises, and Arkady nods. “But…I guess we’re lucky that that guy was the one who noticed us.”

“Yeah, sure, what a teddy bear,” Arkady grumbles. “Big old congrats to him for his grasp of PTSD 101 and basic crowd control, I guess.”

Violet sighs. “Maybe he has friends who fought in the war, or—”

Arkady shakes her head. “Him.”

At Violet’s questioning look, she explains, “When he was walking us toward the door, he took point. Maybe he thought it’d make me feel safer. Maybe just fell into it.”

“Oh.” Violet looks to their right. “Well, ready to get out of here? There’s a path from this courtyard that should take us back to the carpark.”

Arkady raises an eyebrow.

“What? You said memorize the floor plan; I memorized it!”

“I always tell the others that; they never actually—”

Violet grins. “Advantages of a lack of confidence?”

“You seem pretty confident to me.” Arkady leans forward to kiss Violet on the forehead. There are shadows in her eyes, but her words and motions are fluid again, and Violet relaxes a little more even as she again finds herself resenting having to worry about this for any reason other than Arkady’s own wellbeing.

As they stand up, Arkady rubs her arms, and Violet realizes the single layer of capelet probably isn’t much against the evening chill.

“Hang on.” Violet slips off her suit jacket, reflecting as she reaches up to drape it around Arkady that this is one advantages of being chubby; even if her jacket still wouldn’t have fit Arkady’s exceeding muscular upper arms, it does comfortably span her broad shoulders.

Arkady stops in her tracks, staring at the jacket with a bashful smile that Violet realizes is the first actual Arkady smile of the night.

As they head down the path, Arkady reaches for Violet’s hand and squeezes it before letting their hands relax into each other’s, swinging loosely between them.

“Well, at least we got what we needed before that little fiasco,” she mutters. “How’d you like your first obnoxiously fancy soiree since the museum heist?”

Violet thinks about the sparkling room and the soldier with kind eyes, finding herself wondering which side he’ll fight on if the next war is human against human.

“There were…a lot of jewels.” She leans into Arkady’s shoulder. “Existent, even, not fictitiously stolen.”

“Hey, at least Sana can act. Can you imagine if we’d sent Krejjh down there?”

“I’ve been telling you, they just haven’t had a chance to practice! Most of your cons are on humans. I still think they’d make a better actor than you think.”

“Yeah, because you’ve never heard the story of the last time they tried…”

“Guess you’ll have to tell me when we get back.”

As they arrive at the carpark, Arkady bounces her own shoulder against Violet’s. “Hey. Thanks for the jacket, Liu.”

Violet smirks. “I just felt bad for you in that little not opera capelet. Could you even fit your emergency wires in there?”

Arkady looks smug. “They’re elsewhere in the outfit.”

“Of course they are.” Violet rolls her eyes, tugging Arkady’s hand. “Come on, let’s go home.”

#tscosi #the strange case of starship iris #vikady #violet liu #arkady patel #my writing #fic

[soundsof71]

FIVE ALBUMS YOU NEED IN YOUR LIFE RIGHT NOW!!!

aka, My Top 5 of 2020, but I didn’t want to seem too retro!

Yep, I have a classic rock blog. Yep, I think that the best rock and roll in history is being made RIGHT NOW. And yep, ALL of it is being made by women. 

(Shown at top, Nova Twins by Ant Adams [x] and The Tissues by Michael Espleta [x]. I was planning to make a collage of all my faves in concert, but  not all of them were able to play in 2020. Both of these photos are pre-pandemic.)

There’s been quite a bit of movement on this list, and all five of these have spent some time at Number 1 as the year has done (gestures broadly) All This™. Anyone looking for rock and roll is going to dig any of these. 

Rocking out is just the start of it, though. Wrestling with my bipolarity and schizophrenia is tough on a good day, and there haven’t been too many of those lately. The plague has also taken its toll around me, with two family members dead and a third who’s doing better, but will likely never be all the way back. (Mask up, kids!)

I’ve written plenty about how deeply Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers have moved me this year (and will do so again), but in those rare stretches where I’ve had enough spare energy to listen to music at all these days, I’ve mostly been looking for more than beautiful music. Heavy times need heavy lifting, and I find that in heavy music. 

The five albums here have all helped carry me, pointing the way toward light.

1) BULLY, SUGAREGG

Alicia Bognanno is a force of nature as a guitarist, vocalist, composer, and producer/engineer. (While working on her degree in audio engineering at MTSU, she interned with Steve Albini, who remains both a fan and an admirer). A Nashville transplant from Minnesota, she’s still a natural fit in her home on Sub Pop: as heavy as Soundgarden, as hooky as Sleater-Kinney. 

I was blown away hearing her searing honesty while working through her discoveries of her bisexuality and bipolarity (double bi!), and her triumphant roar lifts me out of my seat every time I listen.

“She sings the hell out of [these songs], her voice fraying to the point of combustion every time she launches to the top of her range. This is phenomenal music for converting anger and anxiety into unbound joy.” ~Stereogum, Album of the Week

Also, check this fantastic interview with Alicia in the New York Times talking about what she’s gone through to get here. 

TURN IT UP!

2) GANSER, LOOK AT THAT SKY

Ganser syndrome is a rare dissociative disorder characterized by nonsensical or wrong answers to questions and other dissociative symptoms such as fugue, amnesia or conversion disorder, often with visual pseudohallucinations and a decreased state of consciousness. ~Wikipedia #it me

‘Just Look At That Sky’ doesn’t presume to offer solutions; it’s an honest document of what it feels like to wade through anxiety, day by day, not a survival guide or handbook of answers none of us actually have. Whether or not you pay attention to this, Ganser are simply one of the most invigorating, exciting new bands. ~Clashmusic

I saw one very positive review compare Ganser to a cross between Fugazi and Sonic Youth, but I think they hit much, much harder than either of those. And as you can surely guess, I also deeply relate to their themes of mental illness and dissociation while trying to make it through All This™. But my god, are they TIGHT. This is a BAND.

Ganser has two fantastic lead vocalists, and on “Bad Form”, bassist/vocalist Alicia Gaines wrote the song for the voice of keyboardist/vocalist Nadia Garofolo. Alicia also wrote a FANTASTIC essay on the strains that making an album during a pandemic puts on the mental health of the entire band at talkhouse: “Writing, recording, reaching out, balancing relationships outside and within the band, I found (and still find) myself under-rested and agitated to no particular end. More than not doing enough, I was not enough.” 

(If you can’t relate to that, I can’t relate to you, tbh.)

This video also does a fantastic job of showing dissociation. TURN IT UP!

3) THE TISSUES, BLUE FILM

“Blue Film” is a ten-song shot of dagger-twisting electro-(s)punk. It’s completely addictive from the very first listen. The tour de force is “Rear Window”, an art-punk masterpiece of slashing guitars and mad caterwauling. Copious doses of jaunty poetics and social commentary reward the earlooker patient enough to untangle Kristine Nevrose’s hysterical meowing about intergalactic salt shakers and hysterectomies, but I’m too emotionally invested to look under the hood.” ~ Sputnik Music

“Rear Window” is in fact my most-played 2020 track. TURN IT UP!

4) GUM COUNTRY, SOMEWHERE

It’s not all heavy! But even when I’m looking for something light and hooky, I need a bite, and Gum Country has done it with the kind of swirly, feeedback-laden wall of sound that Lush or Yo La Tengo would make if they lived in LA. (Recent transplants to SoCal from Vancouver, I do think that the sunshine has gone straight to their heads, in the very best way.)

Indie music nerds will know guitarist/composer/singer/front woman Courtney Garvin from The Courtneys, and she really does throw up a glorious wall of sound. I adore this video too! Sweet, swinging, fun -- and yes, the drummer is playing keyboard with one hand while slapping the skins with the other! 

I mentioned earlier that all five of these albums have spent part of the year at #1 on my list -- I think that this one might have spent the longest stretch there. Like all shoegaze, even as hooky as this, the truth of these songs is revealed in VOLUME. TURN IT UP!

5) NOVA TWINS, WHO ARE THE GIRLS?

Now, THIS is heavy! Amy Lee (vocals, guitar) and Georgia South (bass) are fucking LOUD, and insanely intense. A mix of grime, hip-hop, metal, punk, and good old rock and roll, they’re a harder-hitting, more theatrical Prodigy, with a pyre of intensity that recalls the heaviest howls of Rage Against The Machine. Indeed, Nova Twins spent a good bit of 2019 playing heavy metal festivals and toured as openers for Prophets of Rage. (Tom Morello has been a fan and supporter from the beginning.)

As you may have noted in the photo at the top of this post, their musical audacity extends to visuals too: they design their own clothes, hair, and makeup, they art direct their own videos, and more. They impress the hell out of me, and I’ve been a huge fan since hearing their first singles in 2018. I’ll plant a flag and say that Georgia South in particular is the most innovative musician on any instrument in any genre right now, but they’re both absolutely monsters. 

I’m honestly not at all sure that #5 is high enough for this, but I’m absolutely certain that after this video, you’re gonna need to rest for a little. LOL

“Taxi” is the story of two gleefully and creatively violent women shaking up the local crime syndicate as they use a vintage cab for their moving murder scene. This is the movie that Robert Rodriguez wishes he was making with Sin City, if it were combined with Blade Runner and The Matrix. And gangsters. And a snake.

I’m gonna take your crown I’m gonna, I’m gonna bleed you out We demand it by the hour We devour, control, power

I’m gonna burn it down Even the, even the royals bow

So not the same kind of therapeutic work being explored on this rekkid, but you know what? Fucking shit up is therapeutic too! 

Definitely take this full screen, and for the love of fuck, TURN IT UP!

SO. Not done with the best of 2020 yet? I’m sure not! A lot of my favorite songs aren’t on albums (at least not yet), so for an unedited list of everything I’m finding, check out my Spotify list, 2020: Shuffle This List! 268 songs and counting, over 15 hours, and not finished yet. I’m still checking out everyone else’s Best of lists (including yours! Message me links to yours!!!), so will probably be adding to this for most of 2021, too. 

And for more banging tracks by women from 2020, plus a few 2019 gems that I’m still grooving to, check out my more thoroughly curated Spotify playlist Women Bangers: A Tumblr New Classics Jam. (You’ll see a couple of these tracks there!) I’m working on a YouTube playlist and an essay to properly roll that one out. I’m also still tweaking the ending, but the three dozen or so tunes there are definitely bangin’.

Tell me if you hear anything you dig here, and tell me what YOU’VE found! We’re gonna get through this together.

Yr pal, Timmy

#me #new classics #classic rock #women in rock #best of 2020 #bully #ganser #the tissues #gum country #nova twins #essay #youtube #punk rock #punk

[rymndsmth]

querencia (jang han seo)

🎤 hello and gather around fellow himbo lovers, here is a small fic about our beloved and his life after That guy kicks the bucket. also idk how i managed to turn this into a love story? anyways lmfao, hope y’all enjoy! 

Everything felt so different.

Truthfully, Han Seo never imagined what his life could be like, would be like, without the proverbial ever tightening noose around his neck. One that had been unexpectedly and disappointingly placed on him as a child by the one person that was supposed to remove such things. He was now free of that person, and the fear that stemmed from veering off the path set by them, but wasn’t entirely too certain that he was free of that feeling. 

His muscles couldn’t shake it. The sudden chill to the bone, the anticipation of retaliation from an act that hadn’t yet occurred. Such an act that could never occur anymore given that his brother was dead. He knew this, but his mind had never been good at accepting possibilities that were positive. 

This much was evident in the case of his relationship with Vincenzo. There was no reason why the stoic yet baby faced Mafia member would want to keep him around, at least not any that he could see. So, Han Seo spent the first few weeks asking the question both silently and aloud, will you kill me? Vincenzo had the motive, it’s not exactly like his hands were clean in his previous dealings with Babel, and he most certainly had the means.

It wasn’t until Han Seo was told that because he was trying to make amends, he wouldn’t end up in the Jang family crypt well before his time that he started to feel at ease. Still, for months after that conversation, he still had the nagging feeling that some invisible fist was lurking around every bend. 

Regardless of that, Han Seo decided he would not waste his liberation however short lived it might have been. He made up his mind that he was going to do all the things that he was either too scared or outright forbidden to do before. The first thing on his list was to clean up his business. Luckily for him, the Guillotine file made it easy to weed out the snakes in the grass and allow him to steer Babel in the direction that the core of the business was about. 

The hardest part was going to be restoring the public’s faith in the organization. Cha Young told him as much, and advised him not to agonize over it as there will be new corruption that will grab their attention (and hers). He intended to be the Chairman that such a company deserved, and therefore continued to study no matter how nonsensical and outdated the information seemed. 

The second order of business was moving out of the place that felt more like a prison than a home to one that he liked. The realtor immediately recommended a few luxury places, but he turned them down to their surprise. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had seen what the quest for material wealth had done to his family (or more realistically because he wanted to be closer to newfound hyung  and his girlfriend). 

Either way, the house he settled on had its luxuries, but in a more affordable and quaint neighborhood. Han Seo even went as far as to attempt painting on his own, which went as well as expected for someone that didn’t even know the difference between a brush and a roller. 

Being able to do what he wanted proved to be chaotic at times. There was no one to stop him from going on last minute trips to Jeju just for oranges and a quick dip into the ocean. Or to take away all the sweet and savory snacks that he found at these things called convenience stores. 

He would stay up all night sometimes, not to binge watch all the shows he missed out on, but just to sit in silence. He didn’t know that the quiet could be so nice. That it was a space of tranquility and relaxation rather than one filled with anxiety. Of course, Han Seo more often than not regretted the choice not to sleep and ended up at the cafe a few blocks from his place. 

While obviously no one had better coffee than the one at Babel, he found himself going to the cozy spot with increasing frequency because of her. The first time he saw her, she was deciding on which apple to choose from the basket beside the register. He then noticed that her canvas bag was filled with art supplies, and decided that it was a brilliant idea to draw a conclusion. 

I think the one to the right would make a great subject on paper, he grinned. 

She stared at him in a way that made him contemplate whether to not she was related to Vincenzo hyung before replying flatly:

I’m looking for the tartest one to go with my tea. 

He was left a bumbling mess of flustered sounds and rapidly blinks, not getting the opportunity to insert some retort that undoubtably would’ve put him deeper into the realm of idiot. 

The following morning he went again. No cup of coffee, not even the ridiculously overpriced espresso at Babel, would give him that jolt of electricity he felt under her gaze. And sure enough, she was there. This time her apple sat upon a folded napkin right beside her tea, and in front of them both was her sketchpad. On the page? A picture of the fruit. He couldn’t control the noise of exasperation that left him as he passed her table. On his way out he tossed over his shoulder with a grin so wide it hurt:

Nice drawing. 

Their interactions continued in that same vein. Short, filled with just the right amount of bite. The balance of who had the best and last say constantly shifting, becoming somewhat of a competition. 

You’re outside today, is that weed your subject?

As if there weren’t enough clowns in this neighborhood already.

You buy a lot of lattes for an artist that’s supposed to be starving.

Ironic coming from the gentrifier walking around a working class neighborhood in thousand dollar shoes.  

He had look up what that g word meant after their last exchange.

There was something else he never got to do in his past. Sure, Han Seo had the occasional date or two, but commitment? That was out of the question. It wouldn’t have served his brother well if there was anyone around that would motivate him to step out from his hold. The realization that he never had a serious relationship hadn’t hit him until he started to have inconvenient thoughts during board meetings about stuff like taking a long afternoon stroll, and holding hands with her.

Han Seo could barely focus on the stack of jargon dense reading before him. He sent Vincenzo a text saying that he was coming over with soju, not waiting for a reply before making the short journey to Geumga. Cha Young’s face fell when she answered the door, muttering that she thought he was her delivery, but lit up once she saw he brought along alcohol. After poking around the rice he begged for them to share and sighing loudly for half an hour, Vincenzo ushered him out. He implored him to get a hobby so that these late night visits wouldn’t become a habit.  

He was confused by that. Weren’t studying and running a company hobbies? On his walk back home he spotted a flyer that someone was offering private classes for beginners painting. The nightmare of a time he had trying to get the walls in his kitchen evenly colored popped up in his brain, instantly making him tear off one of the numbers. He didn’t exactly know how learning to paint homes was going to be a practical hobby, but hell, he would have something to show Vincenzo later. 

While he was on one of his impromptu trips to the seaside, Han Seo had his assistant set up the class for him to take when he returned. As a gift for the instructor, he thought it would be nice to bring them an extra bag of oranges. If the session sucked, or if he hated it, at the very least there was going to be something to brighten the mood. 

The day he got back, he even went as far as to tidy up the place on his own and put some fresh flowers around so the air was lightly scented. He practically waited at the door until the alarm sounded to let him know that his instructor arrived. 

Is this a joke? She huffed.

No, I didn’t even know you were the teacher! His protest was adamant. I was on a trip and even brought back Jeju- He paused. Han Seo knew he wasn’t the brightest, but bringing up the oranges seemed like it would upset her given their previous history. 

You brought back what? Her brow raised.

Mmm, good energy! Don’t you feel the vibes from the ocean? He spread his arms wide. 

Han Seo waved her inside hurriedly, trying desperately to get past the awkward exchange. Of all people, he never would’ve thought it would be the neighborhood’s cute sass machine. A small noise of happiness couldn’t be stopped from escaping him as she accepted the invitation. Her eyes scanned the place without restraint, nose wrinkling when she took a look at the kitchen. 

Where are your supplies? A slender finger ran across the surface of his counter. 

Supplies? He thought that was included in the price for the lessons. 

She sighed, placing a sketchbook, brushes, and small pots of paint onto the table. It was now very apparent to him that the advertisement did not mean what he thought it did. Thank goodness he also didn’t decide to open his mouth about that beforehand, it probably would’ve made her smack him with her bag. 

Here, the materials were slid over when he sat. Paint something.

His facial expression surely mirrored what he was thinking. Han Seo had no recollection of ever trying to do this, not even during the course of his way overpriced private school education. She urged him on with a nod, only relaxing into her chair when he flipped open the book and picked up a fine brush. 

There was nothing in particular he wanted to paint. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to paint at all. This was simply something random that came up when he needed it. 

To avoid being chastised, he dipped his brush into the light blue color and started swiping randomly across the blank page. He swapped the brush and added some dark green, then pink, and finished if off with small dots of white. At the end it looked like something a toddler would’ve considered a masterpiece. She eyed it with surprising interest. 

You clearly didn’t know what you wanted to achieve with this, or why you were doing it at all. 

Han Seo was about to interject with a prideful defense before she continued. 

That’s good. It’s better to work with an unbiased mind. Her eyes met his. Your technique is shit though. 

He laughed, like truly laughed. It was a full bellied, unashamedly loud, attack of sonic waves. She seemed to find it amusing, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips. 

Alright, let’s start with how to actually hold a paintbrush. 

There was no telling when their interactions had gone from less than playful banter to warm and friendly (still with a side of joking). Han Seo couldn’t put his finger on it. Did it happen during the second lesson where he mistakenly put paint on her hands, and didn’t settle for no when he said he would wash them off for her? 

Or was it the time he was running late for work, but the barista already had his order prepared because she told them that he was on the way? Perhaps it was the time she had to reschedule their Saturday morning for the evening instead, and all he could think about was trying to replicate the color of her alcohol flushed cheeks onto the page before him. 

Han Seo had never done the whole confession thing before, so he wasn’t sure about how it worked. An unfamiliar kind of anxiety crept up his spine as he poured glasses of wine and organized a fruit plate. Soft music played in the background accompanied by the crackle of the expensive candles he bought specifically for the occasion. Her mouth parted slightly as she took everything in once she arrived for what was supposed to be an ordinary session involving watercolors. 

Wow, got a hot date later or something? Her legs seemed to automatically take her to the table. 

Actually, He brought the glasses over to where she sat. It’s for you. 

Oh…She gasped. A few seconds passed that felt more like minutes before she picked one up and held it high. Cheers then!

Something about it made him feel like he made a mistake. Did he misread their change in demeanor towards one another? Was she truly just being kinder to him because she considered him to only be a friend? Han Seo tried to not let the embarrassment he felt seep into the room, keeping a smile locked and loaded for when she made a witty remark about stuff like him painting in the most inappropriate white button down. 

Don’t you have something to say to me? She quipped, neatly putting her things away after he finished. 

Me? I- no…I... He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he come out and say it?! This was as good as a chance as he was ever going to get. If he let this opportunity slip, he wasn’t sure if there would be one again. He had to act, he had to-

What sounded like a small growl came from her as she raked her hand through her hair. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, her nose just shy of rubbing against his. 

Jang Han Seo, when are you gonna stop driving me insane? She murmured, labored breaths dancing across his cupid’s bow. 

If only she knew how true and reciprocated that question was to him too. From the moment he couldn’t fight against thoughts about her entering his mind, to the smile she wore when he stepped across his threshold, and the way she said his goddamned name, it was all enough to make him want to combust. To burst out of his skin, transforming into something or someone else entirely. A person that fully accepted that there were no more restraints on their lives, that they was no more fear and no more betrayal. Someone that was completely in control, and free to take what was theirs. And so he did. 

It was painful, almost, the first time he kissed her. The second time even more so. By the third time, coupled with the question of her tongue prodding at his bottom lip, Han Seo had shedded the last of his previous being. He cupped her face, thumbs toying with her curled sideburns as he consumed her. Quiet whimpers made way for desperate cries, shivers were replaced by the searing heat of skin on skin. 

The high he’d chased fruitlessly so many times throughout his life was finally achieved with his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together as she shuddered and sighed his name. He was in disbelief that what he had experienced was real, so he chased it again and again, receiving the same result each time his sweat slicked forehead bowed to meet hers. 

Han Seo would learn that it could be obtained outside of that space they filled with the tangible evidence of their desire. It was also in buying melon flavored ice pops to eat in the park together on sunny days. The look on Vincenzo and Cha Young’s face when he timidly made the introduction. Her expression when she took her first bite of Hee Soo’s tteokbokki. When Mr. Nam and her had an hour long debate on which shade of red made the most realistic fake blood color. The flashing Best Chairman Ever coming from her phone when Babel secured their biggest deal yet without any dirty deals behind the scenes. 

That feeling, one that outshone the other by such a long shot that it was nearly eradicated, had been there all along in the life he’d made. She just helped him see it.  

#*throws this and runs to take my dog for a walk* #jang han seo #vincenzo #fics.n

[the-silentium]

Trial by Fire

Masterlist - Chapter 1

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 4020 words

Warnings: Blood, gore, monsters (yay).

A/N: Woohoo, action chap! From this point on, the will be blood on almost every chap. Be warned.

Taglist:  @haloangel391​ /  @lightning-wolffe​​ / @cherrydemon5​​ / @and-claudia​​

_____________________

"Something happened." One of the members spoke up, addressing the problem from his position at the end of the long table. "The planet is angry again." 

"Why would they come back now?" Another asked, finger nervously tapping at his tight. 

The man leading the council took a second, to release the armchair from his deadly grip, allowing blood to return to his white fingertips. 

"We all know how it started." He didn't know why they were back, but he certainly knew who was the cause. 

Whispers erupted from the dozen of people sitting at the table, accusations, hateful exclamations, worried questions, they all blended in a cacophony that beat at the leader's growing headache. 

"Enough." He barked, effectively bringing silence back into the closed room. 

"She's back and we need to find her. Send half of our available hunters into the jungle for a retrieval mission. No one is allowed back in until she's here."

"But Arlan," the head of the scouts paused, unsure of his own next words, "she's dead." 

No one dared to breathe, in fear that they may be chosen to venture the darkness away from the village's protection if they dared to make a sound to disturb the stillness of the room. 

"Apparently not." Arlan growled, frustrated that the thorn in his side was back. 

____________________

You took a deep breath in to calm your buzzing nerves, they couldn't control you right now, not when everyone's lives, your family, was in danger. They needed you strong and in control, something you hoped you could be long enough to get the whole group to safety. It was your only chance. You had your instincts, they were sharp and trustworthy so you had to rely on them and not let panic overflow again. 

You exhaled slowly, wiggling your fingers and toes to relax every inch of yourself. You could do it. You were an experienced hunter in these jungles and they were highly trained commandos with a flawless success rate. Let's not forget the fact that they had blasters. You were good with your knife, but it clearly wasn't the best weapon out there. Maybe the odds were in your favor. 

But they were used to droids, not unpredictable monsters that loved to tear beings apart limb by limb. Tonight would be your trial by fire. For all of you. 

"We need to be ready to meet them." You cracked your knuckles unconsciously, already picturing yourself in front of one of your nightmares. 

You acknowledged Hunter's comment with a nod, already walking to the nearest tree to stab it with your knife and insert your loyal tap into the hole.

"We all drink before it's no longer possible. It's gonna be a long night and this is our last chance to do it." You pointed to Wrecker. "You first." 

He obeyed in a beat, trusting your survival skills. You knew you'd need all the energy available and the sugary water would provide you just that. Also, you needed to be as hydrated as possible. 

"Okay." You turned towards the rest of them, all their visors fixated on you. "So, I don't know much about them. There are different species that are common beliefs in my village and other species that are proper to other villages. But they all have in common to eat whatever cross their path and to roam solely at night." 

Wrecker moved away from the tree, wiping his mouth with his wrist to make place for Tech who removed his helmet to drink. 

"This planet is a trap." The grey-haired clone grumbled at your unhelpful lack of information. 

"I know, I've lived here my whole life." You glared at him before concentrating again. "No one in my village ever came back from a night outside, so I don't know for sure what species are around. All I know is that there are Algax roaming around."

You signaled to Cross to take Tech's place. 

"They are taaaall creature, with dark blue-ish skin and really long arms and legs. They are shy," you gesticulated your hands around to find the right word, but couldn't find it so you went with the first word that came to your mind, "things that tend to hide along the trees and grab their prey when they don't look. They don't eat the prey, just crush it to death and let it there for the other things." 

You were losing time fast, the jungle was darkening with each passing minute and you were far from ready. There was too much to cover and so little time. Plus, there was the fact that what you knew wasn't 100% reliable. Beliefs change from people to people, from village to village, who knows what version of the stories these beasts really came from?

"And they're super sneaky and silent. Hunter your turn." You announced a tad too dryly, but no one called you out on it, maybe because they were as on edge as you were, mentally preparing themselves for what was to come as best as they could considering they didn't really know what was to come. 

"I'll do this quick so listen. And Tech, listen really really carefully. Rule number one, if you see a light, something cute, something scary, hear a sound or hear your name being called, you. Do. Not. Follow it." 

"They know our names?" Tech's hands stopped mid-air, his helmet almost back on his head, eyes wide in surprise. 

"The planet hears us talk. Of course they know." You almost rolled your eyes at the stupid question coming from the team's genius. Ears everywhere duuh. 

"Rule number two, don't eat or drink anything from now on. Can't have one of us puke their guts or get poisoned or paralyzed." Out of the corner of your eyes, you clearly saw a shiver shake the sniper's body. Lesson learned. 

"Number three, if I say run, you all run. In the same direction would be best, but if it comes down to it, you run and don't stop. We'll regroup afterward. You have trackers on us, right?" 

"If you keep your comlink on you, yes." You patted your pockets in reflex, hand closing around the small object to confirm its presence and alleviate your concerns. 

"Last rule, if I do this," the index, middle and ring finger of your free-hand closed to let only your thumb and pinky pointing to the ground, "you have to hide, absolutely don't run. Hide. Some of them are guided by movements and you'll only attract them." 

"Hide? But we can blast 'em!" Wrecker's enthusiasm didn't affect you this time around. It was a first. 

" 'm just no sure they'll stop moving if you do. Best to make our way around unnoticed." 

He grumbled his disappointment at having to be silent, it never has been his forte. Plus, he had the added difficulty to hide his imposing stature, so this would be a challenge. Thankfully their armors were almost entirely black, would they have been the usual white with color stripes, it certainly would have been even more difficult to blend in with the vegetation. 

It felt weird giving them orders, like you were totally out of place. And in a sense you were. The newbie wasn't supposed to command the trained soldiers. The newbie followed behind and shut its mouth. 

Well, at least that's what you've always been told and that's what you've always done. It was no use to fight with the other hunters. They were a group of dickheads that deserved hell, but they had more muscles than you. And they were outnumbering. Aaand they were watching each other's back, whereas you were alone without any backup. All that being said, it didn't stop you from making them pay for their hurtful words, harsh treatments, condescending tones and constant bullying, one way or the other. 

For the first time, people let you lead them and it was unsettling. A part of your mind waited for the inevitable low blow to hit you square in the face. You knew the commandos weren't like that, but you couldn't help it. It was a defensive reflex you developed over the years of trying to fit in a world that you were too different to live in. It was totally foreign to be listened to and not berated down, it felt good and terrifying at the same time. 

"Understood?" Your voice softened into an unsure tone, its once imperativeness melted under the weight of your anxiety of being listened to. 

One after the other, they all nodded, gazes full of determination and something else that almost made you sweat. They all showed their trust in you, even Crosshair who you thought didn't like you much, offered you his trust. It meant way too much and stressed you beyond measure. You couldn't let them down and have them killed. Any single one of them. 

Nodding in return, you walked to the tap beside Hunter and forced yourself to swallow the water, pushing down the lump that formed in your throat. You could do it. You could survive the night if you played your cards right. With your knowledge and their excellent combat skills surely you could defend yourselves. Right?

"Blasters ready gentlemen. We have to find a shelter as quickly as possible." You removed the tap from the tree and hid it back into a pocket. 

"A den should be alright or a small cave." 

With one last look at the four of them, you noded to yourself. 

"Good night, good luck." You told them as per habit and hope that the saying would somehow protect you all. Your usual joking self was nowhere to be seen, letting you wear a mask of complete seriousness.

They tensed, apparently getting on the fact that this was an important custom on this planet. 

"Good night, good luck." They repeated, one after the other, causing you to smile tightly at the gesture. 

You took North, continuing away from the ship and into unknown territory. You knew that after a while you'd eventually fall into Forsians hunting territories and then you'd have a better knowledge of the terrain, but those parts of the jungle were still hours away. Hopefully, you'll be able to climb up and make your way back to the ship before getting there. 

"Will you be alright to walk in the dark?" Crosshair's voice erupted from your pocket and you knew this wouldn't work. Each time they'd speak the whole jungle would hear. 

"I'll be fine. Like I said, the best mutate to survive." You winked at the white crosshair on the sniper's helmet. "I can see in the dark. Not full 10/10 on the chart, but enough so I won't ram into a tree."

You fished the comlink out of your pocket and showed it to Tech who was rummaging around in his utility belt pockets.

"Can't have it screaming my position every time someone spea-" 

"I know." He cut you off, presenting you an earpiece.

"This will do." He took your device to connect them together, or so you think. "There. You'll hear us through the earpiece but you still need the comlink to talk." 

He gave you back the electronics and you quickly put the earbud on, comlink returning to your satisfyingly deep pocket. 

"Thanks. We should continue to follow the ravine and hope that we can climb it at some point and return to the ship." 

Agreements resonated in your right ear and you got on your way. It got darker and darker until the only colors you could see were different shades of blue and black. 

The silence around was nerve-wracking, every tree seemed like it would turn around and jump at you at each and every step you took. 

It was nice to quickly fall back in your old habits, feet barely making a sound, eyes recognizing every scratches and marks on the trees let by multiple species marking their territories; Dire bears, Lacergans, Fu-

You almost jumped at the low rumbling whisper right in your ear. Thankfully, your scream stayed in your mind and the only thing jumping was your heartbeat. 

"Movement ahead." You couldn't hear shit, but you trusted Hunter's heightened senses. 

You stopped, the boys getting into their shooting positions at your sides. You could do it. 

"Smell like death." Hunter added with a grunt of displeasure. 

The new information registered like a cold bath, freezing every muscle in your body. The ice-cold bath that just fell over your head paralyzed any transfer of information between the neurons in your brain, leaving you totally helpless for a whole second. Your brain was still out of service when your body just moved on its own, already knowing what to do despite the lack of orders from above. 

The three middle fingers of your free hand closed, letting only your thumb and pinky pointing to the ground, clearly informing the clones of the course of action. Thankfully, all their gazes got attracted by your moving hand, immediately changing the formation. 

Twiggs broke a bit to the right, still far enough for you to dodge behind a tree undetected, soon joined by Tech who as opposed to you, faced the tree. His chest plate pushed on your torso to get closer to the tree, one of his blasters raised right next to your head, the other grazing your upper arm, caging you in a position that would be extremely hot in totally different circumstances and with a totally different clone. 

At the corner of your eyes, you thankfully noticed Wrecker's imposing form hiding as best as he could behind a particularly thick bush, Hunter standing behind a tree next to him, weapon pointed towards the sky above. Crosshair was nowhere to be seen, so you hoped it meant he found a good spot. 

Rustling leaves and moving grass made you freeze completely. No one moved as the footsteps got nearer and nearer. Of course, this was the first creature you'd encounter. Kribats were the worst creature one could run into. 

They were told to feast on human flesh like there was no tomorrow. They were starved, walking the jungle every night in hope of biting down on some stupidly brave human who ventured the night, but these times were rare nowadays. Almost no one got out at night, reinforcing their desperation for human blood.

It was told that they could paralyze you in fear at simply one glance to their wicked red eyes, allowing the beast to pound on its victims and take their life. It wasn't clear how it killed its preys, but all the versions were unanimous, it was a bloodbath. 

Fors really seemed to hate the Bad Batch. 

If it wasn't enough that the most dangerous monster was hot on your asses, Tech's recording light flashed to life, illuminating your position and burning your retina like a mighty beacon. With a fast but careful movement, you reached around his arm encasing your body into the tree to cover the red traitorous light. 

Blinking the tears away, you really hoped your glare got the message perfectly clear to the engineer. Forget about your hobby for one night, you dumbass!

The rustling grass behind Hunter's tree stopped your breathing, all senses focussed on the beast's movements to know if it detected your group or not. 

Tech's eyes visibly widen behind his visor at the ungodly sight of the creature's emaciated body, the skull of a cervid posed atop a male human body rivaling Wrecker's height was disturbing, but not as disturbing as the sight of all the blood covering its dark skin. There was so much blood that it pooled at its feet, leaving behind a river-like path in the grass. 

The low ragged rumble of the monster passed your tree, surprising you that he hadn't bounced on it to grab you from behind. You glanced at its retreating form and oh this is new. Your version of a Kribat didn't have a feathery tail trailing behind. Now, what could this be useful for? They couldn't fly, could they? 

The Kribat wandered deeper into the depth of the jungle, leaving its imprint on everyone's mind as well as on the jungle floor and all your noses and mouths. 

You waited for a little longer, just to be sure that it was far enough to not catch its attention before nodding to Tech. 

"Clear." He whispered through the comm. 

The first breath you took in almost pulled you to your knees. The smell was atrocious, grabbing you at your throat. Decomposition, blood, acids, they all mixed to form a rancid smell that you could almost taste. 

"What in the Nine Corellian Hells is that?" Crosshair stood from behind a dead trunk on the ground to join everyone at the dark trail. 

"Human blood, flesh and organs." The shredded pieces of meat here and there turned your stomach upside down. 

You were used to flesh and blood. Heck. You were a hunter and often butched your meals yourself. But this flesh was human and the state of it only left you to imagine was it must have felt like to be ripped apart. You didn't want to speculate if the victim was alive or not when it happened. 

"Kribats are craving human flesh but they don't have a digestive system. It gets in and gets out, so they're never satiated." 

"So this one just ate?" Wrecker approached behind you. Now faced with what these beasts were capable of, his enthusiasm disappeared somewhere, letting him wary and if only a little bit scared. 

"It looks like it." You fixed the blood, deep in thoughts. Why were there humans out tonight? 

"I thought no one was supposed to be out at night." Tech inquired while disconnecting the red light on his helmet. 

"They're not supposed to be. It means that something's wrong." You sighed. Tonight couldn't get any better. The planet was throwing a tantrum. 

There was nothing you could do about it, so you focussed back on the present. You swallowed to keep yourself from puking as you dropped to your knees before the red river. 

"And what are you doing?" Crosshair asked, not daring to approach the thing himself. 

"Camouflaging my smell of a juicy living being." With shaky hands, you plunged your fingers through the sticky mixture. You gaged at the feeling but covered your sleeves nonetheless. 

"You guys should cover your armor too. Lucky bastards." At least it wouldn't touch their skin. 

"No way." Crosshair groaned as Tech walked over asking "Why?" 

"Because I want us to survive the night." You deadpanned. There was no time to explain the how and why. 

You stopped breathing for a second to cover your torso and pants, cringing at the warm wetness soaking the fabric. You allowed yourself a second to mourn your once perfect clothes that you loved so much. You'd have to burn them after only one day wearing them. 

At your sides the boys reluctantly followed your lead, grunting in disgust every two seconds. 

You decided to forget your face, this would end badly for your stomach. 

Turning around as you wiped your hands on a clean spot on your pants, you noticed Hunter's clean body leaning on a tree for support, head tilted down with a hand over his heart. You didn't need to be a Jedi to feel his distress at the overwhelmingly nauseating smell. 

"You okay?" His visor lifted to meet your eyes at your worry. You controlled yourself and refrained from pulling him in a hug, you'd only make it worse. 

"Yeah." But he sounded far from okay. 

"We have to continue, but if you stay close, we all should be able to hide your smell without rolling you into the stuff." He grunted in agreement. 

Tech, Crosshair and Wrecker joined your sides, covered in the mixture. 

"Okay. We continue." 

Hoping that your sergeant would get used to the smell, you took the lead once more. You didn't know if his mutation would allow his brain to stop registering the smell after a couple of minutes like everyone else. You mentally crossed your fingers for him. 

The trees seemed taller into the dead of night. The occasional moon rays passing through the leaves made the heavy ambiance slightly more bearable. 

You wondered what a night outside looked like on another planet where no monsters crept their way around. Where you could lay down and watch the stars, not through a tiny crack in the rock like you used to in your village and fully admire the high sky, illuminated by a sea of sparkling orbs. You deeply wanted to experience it with your team who would definitely think you stupidly simple. 

But they would understand. After tonight, they would. 

Your progression was steady for a while, every ears and eyes were focussed around to detect any unwanted creature lurking in the shadows. 

Back to his collected usual self, Hunter finally seemed used to the smell plaguing his nose. To add to the good news, you spotted a mature tree, particularly large. At first glance, it looked like it reached the top of the ravine.

Excitement flooded your veins, a hand lifting to stop the group who tensed in alert. 

"I think this one could get us up." You whispered to them, pointing at the tree.

"It definitely could." Tech scanned the tree, the others still watching the surroundings. 

"I'll go check." You broke away from the formation to get to the closest branch. 

"Wait-" A hand caught your upper arm. 

"Hunter, I'm the best climber here. Plus, you guys will make too much sound for a recon with your armor. I'll make it quick." Your determined eyes met his visor, not willing to get back on your position.  

"Be careful." He released you to position his team around the tree. 

You send him a quick salute before pulling yourself up the tree. You kept your knife in one hand and climbed up several branches. The next one was pretty high, too high for you to reach it without jumping. Your knife found its home at the side of your boot and you focussed on your jump. Crouching slightly, you suddenly extended your legs and pushed with considerable force. Both hands grabbed the top of the desired branch before letting your biceps do the rest of the work. 

"Are you okay?" Hunter called through the comm. 

Leaning on the trunk, you reached in your pocket to retrieve the communication device. 

"Yeah, had to jump to continue. Think I'm almost at the top. I'll be down soon." You answered, looking up to the thinning branches where more moonlight pierced the darkness. 

"Copy that." 

Your comm returned to your pocket to free your hands. Up. Up. Up. In the same minute, you made it to the top. The moon was still low, not fully visible above the line of trees obstructing your vision. 

Now, you noticed that the edge of the damn ravine seemed barely close enough for you to jump there. Maybe Wrecker could throw you there. But how would he reach the top? Checking under the edge, the lack of roots keeping the ground stable was highly disappointing. Even if you were to jump all the way there, the chance of the dirt crumbling under your fingers was too high. 

Quickly, you grabbed your comm to let the boys know that you were coming back. 

With a grumble, you started to descend, moving gracefully from branch to branch without making a sound. The gap you jumped looked pretty big from above, causing you to hesitate for the shortest of seconds. The need to get down was more pressing than your unease so you braced yourself and pushed yourself off your perch to the one below. 

You landed perfectly, both feet on the hard surface, hands wrapped around it tightly to not move further. 

For a second, you were perfectly stable. The next you were falling through the air, propelled by the body hitting you full force. Wood painfully came in contact with your shoulders, arms and back, emptying your lungs before a scream could escape your lips.

#bad batch x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #crosshair x reader #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #clone force 99 #clone wars #star wars #good night good luck

[littlx-songbxrd]

Ok I meant to answer you're question about what I thought of the show ages ago but I forgot.

I LOVED IT OMGGGG! I got so many kitty vibes from Wilhelm and Simon! The touching! The softness! It's those vibes exactly! I want that energy in TWP.

COMRADE SIMON!! We stan! That speech he made at the very beginning about the differences in attitudes towards "tax evasion" vs. "Welfare fraud." Legend behavior.

Sara!!!! My girl!!!!!! An autistic/adhd character PLAYED BY AN AUTISTIC ACTRESS!!!! THIS IS SO HUGE!!! I would die for my problematic queen. I made an entire post on her but the gist is, I get where she's coming from and understand why she feels the way she feels but dear God girl make better choices and stay the hell away from August.

Speaking of.... I wanna run August over several times. Vroom vroom motherfucker. The fact that he

- filmed MINORS HAVING SEX AND TGE POSTED IT ONLINE

-kissed Sara behind Felice's back when they were still dating WITHOUT HER CONSENT BTW

- Wanted to blame Simon for the drugs because he knew it would be easy because Simon's family is lower class and doesnt have the same social standing as one of the "members of the society"

- Also it didn't escape my notice that the cult like faternety type group with all the rich, mainly white boys is called The Society. This shows commentary on class is vv interesting. Especially the little things like two girls just randomly advocating for THE DEATH PENALTY. The rich people audacity.

-Anyways back to August, when he tried to excuse his actions with Wilhelm and get all teary like no bitch you can't manipulate your way out of this one. And again with Sara! When he said "Wilhelm has everything" I wanted to scream! Like he's fucking closeted and clearly suffering from panic attacks and extreme anxiety you moron.

-Anyways!! I also think that Wilhem might be autistic because he just feels autistic. Like the vibes are there.

- The girl group is so sweet? And to have the popular girl be a Black girl who isn't "stereotypically attractive" with a more medium sized body and bad acne. As someone who has really bad skin I needed that. Felice is kinda awesome imo.

Let me see what else??

-Simon and his mom speaking Spanish consistently throughout the show. It sounded pretty natural to me? But I'm not a native speaker. (Or even fluent honestly lol.)

- Simon and Wilhelm are honestly so adorable and in love and it made my heart ache. (I am so touch starved I swear..)

-My only main beef is the outing plotline and the show using an outdated medical term for Sara, aspergers. It's literally just autism. Also it's kind of offensive because Hans Asperger was a n*zi who literally killed autistic children because they weren't useful to capitalism. SOOOO yeah.

As for the outing plotline, I feel like the cishets have like three plotlines that they use for queer stories. Outing/coming out, one of them dies, or one if them bullies the other until they both fall in love. It's tired.

But overall I really loved it.

HI SORRY I HADNT REPLIED

I wanted to correctly talk to you about this series so I logged in through my computer to make it easier for me :D

LOOK AT THIS POINT IVE RELATED THEM TO LITERALLY EVERY COMFORT SHIP I HAVE LIKE. I've compared this to kitty, I've compared this to Thomastair, I've compared this to my friends to ocs who she has obsessed me with (youd actually like them if you liked this tbh) IVE COMPARED ME TO MY OCS

BUT AT THE END OF THE DAY I JUST LOVE THEM

IF KITTY DOESNT HAVE THIS ENERGY IN TWP WHAT WAS THE POINT

what was the point cc??

S I M O N

OH GOD WHEN HE SAID THAT I WENT OMG YEAH

new favorite character

Great

SHES PLAYED BY AN AUTISTIC ACTRESS?? Sorry I hadn't known! Haven't actually gotten to obsessively look at the cast I've been trying to get over the last episode BUT THATS SO COOL. SARA IS AMAZING AND I ADORE HER. I'll read your post after this! But of course STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM AUGUST GIRL PLEASE

Tbh I understood where she was coming from with everything with Simons image falling apart and her having to suffer when she had just started having friends , just after finding he had been lying to her. But love, AUGUST?

A U G U S T ???

WHO JUST FOUND OUT OUTED YOUR BROTHER

Also random and stealing this from @marzzinaa i totally hc Sara as a demi girl for some reason

Im kinda sad we didnt see her speak spanish as much we did simon :(

But oh well I LOVE HER AND YEAH STAY AWAY FROM AUGUST GOD

FAE WE RUN HIM OVER TOGETHER BROOM BROOM

You already said it all, I just agree

Ok I'll bring a machete you bring whatever you wish and we kill him sound good?

ALSO YEAH I TOTALLY NOTICED HOW THE ECONOMIC DINAMICS CAME INTO PLAY AND HOW IT BASICALLY LET YOU KNOW HOW THE PRIVILEGED ELITES COULD GET AWAY WITH ANYTHING

meanwhile they wanted to pass off to Simon who came from a lower class family the blame

Also I'd like to mention how that would also play into the stereotype latinos are all drug dealers

Which I love how they didnt make his dead beat alcoholic man the latino parent, when I first read the description I thought they might do that, but im so glad they didnt

I think it might have been a comentary idk i liked that they DIDNT make the poc parent the dead beat

THE FRIEND GROUP WAS SO COOL AND I LOVED ALL OF THEM AND YES FELICE WAS JUST <3

I love how they didnt make her stereotypically perfect AND YES MID SIZED REP WAS AMAZING TO SEE

Also im so glad you got to see that represented!!

So I am a native speaker and him talking to his mom MADE ME CRY

it was WONDERFUL I WANT MORE OF IT

pls most her phrases reminded me to my own mom

Autistic wilhelm you say?? omg tell me more (if you want)

Oh thats awful, well I'll just refer to Sara as autistic and hope the showrunners fix that next season because if they dont-

Yikes

Oh yeah, thats valid critisism. But in my opinion they actually wrote it pretty well so I wont really be complaining about an overall media problem with queer stories rn. If so I'll be here all day. But yeah its an overall problem but it wasnt done bad in my opinion so!

I'll shut up, for now

IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT FEEL FREE TO KEEP TALKING ABOUT IT WITH ME PLS ITS MY OBSESSION NOW IM GONNA BE ANNOYING ABOUT IT ALL MONTH

#young royal spoilers #young royals