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alrightberries · 3 years

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Hi! So like what if Levi & F!Reader are like cuddling, and Levi over slept (maybe misses a meetings?) and Eren and his squad have to go find him and they see Reader and Levi all cuddly and stuffs. AND THEN Levi become super pissed bc they went into his quarters without permission and blah blah blah (you can decide the rest lolll) basically crack, fluff and humor lol. Please& thank uuu

the short end of the stick

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 3.3k

❈ summary: In which the 104th cadets were not prepared to find out that the terrifying and ever-intimidating Captain Levi... is a little spoon.

❈ trigger warnings: implied sex. brief mentions of blood and death. profanity

a/n: i made the reader gender neutral, hope y’all don’t mind. i had too much fun writing this and got kinda carried away. this is my first request ever and i’m glad that i finished it. enjoy!

Eren was shaking.

Sweat dripped down his forehead and his knuckles turned white from how hard he was clenching his fists, nails piercing his skin so harshly he swore it would draw blood. His heart angrily pumped inside his chest, every beat so strong he nearly anticipated for it to jump out of his ribcage at any given moment.

Fear.

He felt fear.

He puts a name to the feeling and it doesn’t make him feel any better. Ears ringing, lungs breathing rapidly as he tries to steady his fear-induced heart. He was hyperventilating. His eyebrows crease from his anxiousness and he feels his knees weaken, daring to give out beneath him. Was he actually shaking right now? He couldn’t even tell.

Vulnerable.

He felt vulnerable.

Eren had seen many horrors throughout his short lifetime. He saw the colossal titan rear its ugly head over Wall Maria as its foot smashed into the wall’s gates, debris flying throughout the district as a boulder crushed his home with his mother still inside. He saw his mother get snapped in half and eaten by a titan right before his very eyes at a tender age as he sat by and could do nothing but watch.

He was orphaned. Forced to grow up too soon, too fast just so he could say he survived. His entire district was left homeless, forced to become refugees as titans rampaged throughout the outer walls, forced plow the fields to combat the famine and hunger, forced to have 250,000 people go on what was essentually a suicide mission to appease the growing population.

He trained in the military. He trained for three gruesome years and had his physical and mental psyche crushed into dust beneath the boots of the commanding officer, only to be thrown into a battle—completely unprepared— with the titans once more before he could even graduate.

He saw his friends, his family, his brothers and sisters in arms get eaten. Killed. Murdered. Swatted away like flies by the very beasts he swore he’d kill.

And yet, nothing could prepare him for this.

Nothing could prepare him for the blood-pumping, adrenaline-induced terror at the mere thought of having to carry out his mission.

Nothing could prepare him for having to wake up Captain Levi from his nap.

Jean groaned. “Dammit, just fucking do it already.”

Eren is snapped out of his reverie, suddenly reminded that he wasn’t alone. His fellow soldiers stood behind him.

“Well if you’re so brave then why don’t you do it, horse-face?” He grits back, turning around and clenching his fists at his side.

He glimpses around the hallway and his eyes loom over his teammates’ amused faces, each painted with a shit-eating grin. Everyone was relieved that they weren’t the ones tagged with waking up the Captain from his nap.

Rumor around the base is, the last person from his original squadron (may they rest in peace) who had to wake up Captain Levi almost had his ear sliced off. Levi wasn’t even carrying any gear or anywhere near a knife.

One look at Mikasa told Eren that even she was glad she didn’t get picked for this task, and he shudders at the thought of being the poor bastard who had to lose his ear just so the Captain wouldn’t be late for his meeting. He quite liked having both of his ears attached to his head, thank you very much.

“It’s your task.”

“Yeah but why is it my task?!”

“Because you drew the short end of the stick, genius.” Jean replies easily.

Oh. Right.

“There has to be something we can do! Another plan. One that doesn’t involve waking up Captain Levi.” His eyes are pleading as he looks at his fellow soldiers, yet none of them seem willing to switch places with him.

Dammit. They were really going to make him work for it.

All his dignity is thrown out the window as Eren quickly gets on his knees and starts begging his friends, the shit-eating grins on their faces turning into wicked smiles as they watch him beg for mercy.

“Mikasa? What about you? Are you seriously going to let them send me to my death?” He asks, but Mikasa simply turns her head the other way as she speaks.

“He won’t kill you. Just sever your ear.”

Eren’s eye twitches.

She looks at him once more. “I’ll pick up your ear and ask the medical unit to sew it back on you. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

As proof, she holds up a glass jar and some tweezers. She had gloves on her hands.

God, he was going to kill his teammates.

Jean, apparently fed up with Eren’s incessant whining, marches towards him and grabs him by the collar, forcing him to stand up.

“Yeager, you trained in the military for three years. You’re a goddam titan shifter. You got kidnapped and held hostage. Three times. Waking up a growth-stunted man won’t be the last of you.”

Jean’s words are reassuring but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. No, his eyes are still amused. Very amused.

Scratch that, he wasn’t going to kill all his comrades. Just Jean. Jean and his extremely punchable horse-face.

Before he could even reply, Eren is shoved inside the Captain’s office with a quick “Off you go!” and the door is quickly shut behind him.

Fear.

This was truly fear.

Captain Levi’s office is empty, Eren notices. It’s spotless as always and tall shelves line every wall, each filled to the brim with books and documents. A lone door sits at the far right wall.

The Captain’s bedroom.

Slowly, with bathed breaths, he forces his legs to walk closer to the door that held his fate. Briefly, Eren thinks about getting some protective ear covers (just in case) but he quickly shoves that idea aside when he realizes that Jean and Conny were likely blocking the door from the outside.

That, and he concludes that the Captain would just break another part of his body. Maybe his hands. He didn’t need ears for handling ODM gear but he did need his hands.

“Captain?” Eren’s voice is weak but clear as he knocks on the door. “Captain Levi, you’re late for your meeting.”

He holds his breath for a few seconds, and there’s no response. He tries once more.

“Captain,” he repeats, louder this time. “Captain, you really need to wake up. Commander Erwin says your attendance is required for the meeting to start.”

But there’s still no response.

His hands are shaky and he’s still extremely nervous, but he knew Captain Levi’s presence was urgent to the meeting. Classified, Commander Erwin had said when he asked what it was about.

The third time Eren repeats his fruitless endeavors, he realizes that Captain Levi really wasn’t waking up any time soon.

He runs back to the door he came in from.

“Let me out!” He yells, hands throttling the doorknob as he tries to pull the door open but just as he suspected, Jean and Conny are sealing the exit and pulling at the doorknob as well.

“Let me out, dammit! Captain Levi won’t wake up, I don’t wanna die— just let me out!”

His feet are pressed up against the wall at this point and he manages to yank the door open by a few mere inches. A quick glimpse outside confirms his worse fears: all his friends are holding onto the doorknob as well, trying to keep the door closed. Even Mikasa.

He’d never felt so betrayed.

“You got this Eren!” His eyes drift to the back of the group where Sasha was smiling at him with a cheeky grin. “I’m sure the Captain won’t hurt you too badly when you wake him up.”

“No, fuck that! He’ll murder me and say it was because I went ape shit in titan form. He won’t even get arrested!”

It was when he made eye contact with Mikasa when he realized what true betrayal felt like.

“Good luck, Eren.” “No, don’t—!” Mikasa yanks the door close with one strong pull and he falls to the floor, on his ass.

The room is quite once more (save for the cheeky giggles on the other side of the door) and Eren brushes himself off as he stands up. He eyes the door to the Captain’s bedroom and he breathes in deeply when he comes to terms with what he has to do to wake the Captain from his deep slumber. He has to go inside.

He finds himself in front of the door once again, and this time his knocks are a little louder, a little more unsure, as he speaks. “Captain? I don’t think you’re waking up soon. I’m coming in.”

Slowly, he tells himself. Slowly.

Eren wasn’t sure what to expect when he opened the door to Captain Levi’s quarters. Maybe a torture chamber. Maybe swords and skeletons on the wall. Maybe a book on How To Murder With One Glare on a coffee table. He didn’t know.

But oddly, he thinks as he glances around, the Captain’s bedroom is... normal. The room’s dark, with its curtains drawn and the candles unlit. Tall shelves holding an impressive collection of books still line a portion of the walls. A bed is pressed up against the wall opposite the door, and there are two lumps underneath the blankets—

Wait.

Two lumps.

Two.

Captain Levi’s in bed with someone?

“Captain Levi,” Eren quietly calls out. He wonders who the hell managed to catch the Captain’s attention... or if someone even caught his attention at all. Captain Levi could just be hugging a pillow, he reasons. But Eren’s curiosity overtakes his fears and his legs start to walk closer towards the bed. “Captain?”

The blanket was pulled over the two sleeping lumps, and Eren gently tugs it down to reveal their faces.

No way.

No fucking way.

Briefly, Eren is speechless. His words get caught in his throat, hand frozen mid-air as he marvels at the sight of Humanity’s Strongest Soldier cuddled up within the arms of his lover. His normally stoic face is gone, replaced by relaxed eyes and a slightly ajar mouth, one cheek puffed up as it’s squished into his lover’s chest and his head is nuzzled into the crook of their neck. His arms disappear underneath the blankets, but judging by the fact that his lover’s arms were around him, Eren surmised that the Captain’s arms were most likely wrapped around his lover as well.

He looked innocent— cute, almost, and if Eren didn’t have to train under him everyday he might have actually believed that the Captain’s innocent sleeping face could be taken at face value.

Eren recognizes you, as well. He’s seen you around the base with your own squadron, an elite soldier with your own team of other elite soldiers. You’re known around the base as the squad leader who works their team to the ground, training your members so hard that they genuinely considered going to Captain Levi for comfort. But it wasn’t for naught, of course. Your squad’s survived longer than Captain Levi’s (again, may they rest in peace), barely making it out complete when the fiasco with the Female Titan occurred.

“Oi, Eren.” A voice behind him speaks, and Eren is briefly caught off guard as he turns around and makes eye contact with his comrades. Most likely, they got impatient with waiting for him and decided to see if he’d been murdered already.

Great, so now they decide they weren’t scared of going inside the Captain’s room.

“What’s taking so long?” Jean asks.

Eren is still speechless, opting to instead shakily point his finger towards the bed where Levi lay wrapped in your arms.

“H-he’s... he’s—“ “He’s what?”

He gulps and sighs deeply, speaking out so quietly his friends almost didn’t hear, speaking out in a mere shaky whisper as he utters his words.

“He’s a little spoon.”

Chaos is what Eren would use to describe what happened next. His comrades immediately jumped to stand next to him and take a look at the sight on bed, crowding around them as if they were a soap opera.

“Oh my god, he looks so...” Sasha starts in awe, hands on her cheeks and stars in her eyes but unsure how to finish her words.

Eren nods his head, understanding her speechlessness. “Innocent.”

Silently, his friends nod as well. But he couldn’t just stand here and gawk at Captain Levi’s sleeping form, he came here with a mission. “We need to wake him up. He’s already really late.” He says, more to himself than to his friends. He doesn’t wait for his comrades to exit the room as he gently places a hand on the Captain’s shoulders to shake him awake.

“Captain Levi—“

Eren learns his mistake too late as Levi’s eyes immediately snap open, hand clamping down on Eren’s and twisting it behind his back to disarm him.

“Eren!” Mikasa yells behind him, making a move to free him from Levi’s iron clad grip. From the corner of his eyes, Eren sees the person lying down next to Levi quickly sit up and throw something silver, flying past his comrades and towards Mikasa’s head, embedding itself deep within the wood next to her face.

Eren stares at his friends, all silent, frozen with fear, and rooted to their spots as their mouths hang open.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Levi sneers, pushing down on Eren’s arm.

“C-captain, you’re late for the—“ “Holy shit, we’re late for the meeting.” You cut in, eyes wide in realization.

The Captain briefly glimpses at you and clicks his tongue as he releases Eren from his grip, the young soldier immediately slumping to the ground in relief. His arms and legs felt like jello and he could already feel himself melting into the wooden floor.

“Can someone explain to me why you brats thought it would be a good idea to enter my private quarters?” Levi glares. “Without my permission?”

Oh shit. They didn’t think this through.

A cold shiver runs down the soldier’s spines as they unanimously realize their mistake, something that Eren undoubtedly would’ve felt as well if he wasn’t too busy gawking at the realization that Captain Levi was shirtless (probably naked underneath the sheets), and you were shirtless as well (also probably naked underneath the sheets).

Levi catches Eren’s eyes staring at you, and he silently pulls the blanket over your chest and up to your collarbones without breaking his glare at the cadets.

Fuck. Eren thinks, eyes snapping to the ground as a blush creeps up his neck. Captain Levi’s definitely going to cut off both my ears now.

Conny, apparently already cracking under the pressure, flails his arms and yells as he tries to make a run for the door. Before anyone could even blink, another silver blur whizzes through the air, stabbing the wood directly in front of Conny as he freezes.

It was a knife. A fucking butter knife. Why the hell the Captain and his lover keep a butterknife next to them on the bed is something Eren doesn’t want to know.

“Since none of you lot have tongues,” Levi speaks. He’s not going to get an explanation soon. “We’ll discuss punishment later. For now,” He stands up, grabbing a still flustered Eren by the collar and dragging him towards the door, pushing out the rest of the team as well.

Eren doesn’t have time to be relieved about the fact that Captain Levi was not, for a fact, naked and was wearing black boxers. He was too busy getting pushed out the Captain’s bedroom and dragged through the office before finally getting thrown out into the hallway.

“For now, you leave me alone. I have a meeting to attend to.”

Levi slams the door shut at his awestruck soldiers, breathing in a frustrated sigh as he rests his hand on his forehead. He was getting a headache. He feels arms wrap around him from behind, hands resting on his chest. He sighs once more, this time in content, as he leans into your touch.

“Hey,” you kiss neck. “Thought you said you locked the door.”

“I did.” He turns around, still in your arms, and gently places his hands on your face as he kisses your nose. “Someone must’ve accidentally unlocked it when they were trying to grab onto something. Y’know, when they were getting fucked from behind.”

You chuckle. “Well, I’m sure that someone probably got sweet talked into getting fucked against the door.”

You break away from his arms after giving him a kiss, making your way back inside Levi’s bedroom, no doubt to get dressed for the meeting.

He stares at you as you walk, still naked and looking gorgeous. His face may be stoic but his heart was leaping, the gold ring on your left hand that matched his own glimmering in the light.

Your head peaks out from behind his bedroom door. “Round two before the meeting?” You ask cheekily.

Levi rolls his eyes as he makes his way to the bedroom as well, patting your bum as he passes by. “No. We’re already late.”

Eren clutches the pillow to his head, exhausted from the laps he’d done. He glances around the room, eyeing the tired faces of his comrades.

As punishment for invading your privacy, Captain Levi assigned them laps around the base until sundown plus two weeks of stable duty. As punishment for invading his privacy, Captain Levi deemed them unworthy of having their own private space and made the entire squadron bunk together in the small room beside his own.

Well, the entire squadron except for the Captain himself, at least.

Eren was pretty sure the room they were made to sleep in indefinitely was supposed to be a supply closet of some kind, but it fitted enough bunk beds for the entire team and was deemed a worthy location to carry out the rest of their punishment.

“How long do we have to sleep here?” Sasha asked dreadfully, hands covering her ears in attempts to block out the noises coming from the other room. The sound of a squeaky mattress and a wooden bed slamming against the adjacent wall continued.

“Until we learn our lesson,” Jean quotes the Captain. He himself looked extremely tired but he wasn’t trying to cover his ears like the rest of them were, undoubtedly because he’d already given up on getting a good night’s rest if the bags underneath his eyes were anything to go by.

“I don’t even care how long we have to sleep here anymore.” Conny interjects tiredly. “I just want to know when they’ll ever stop.”

As if to prove his point, a moan is heard through the walls. The soldiers flinch, still not accustomed to the sound. Mikasa silently runs her hands through Eren’s hair to calm him down.

“They’ve been at it for hours,” Jean whispers in horror. “How much stamina do those two have?”

Armin sighs, the bags under his eyes feeling heavier by the second. “They’re elite soldiers who’ve trained for years. They have more stamina than all of us combined.”

The whole room heaves out a collective groan, finally accepting that they weren’t getting any sleep tonight.

In the other room, Captain Levi bangs his fist against the shared wall. “Oi,” he calls out. “Shut up, you brats. We can hear you.”

Levi thrusts his hips, eyes glancing down at your pleasure-struck face as he grinds into you more. The action causes you to throw your head back and let out a desperate moan, finger nails scratch down his back. He grabs your hands to pin them to the sides of your head, leaning down to whisper “Not too harsh, darling. We don’t want you leaving marks now, do we?” He continues his pace, the bed’s wooden frame slamming against the wall as he once again speaks to his soldiers.

“We have thin walls, y’know.”

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#E H E #SURPRISE BITCHES #i told y’all i was capable of writing fluff #and semi crack #writing #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk imagine #shingeki no kyojin imagine #aot imagine #attack on titan imagine #levi ackerman imagine #levi imagine

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atruththatyoudeny · 3 years

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Happy 28th! I’ve read so many awesome fics this month! Make sure to check them all out. As always, all my love to all the authors in this fandom ♥

➻ don't want to fight you | starryharry | enemies to lovers - enemies to friends to lovers - pining - mutual pining - angst - fluff slow burn - no smut - 124k Louis hates that it’s familiar. He hates that sparring Harry is familiar because they train together. He hates that he even has to spar Harry at all, because Harry is good. Louis wonders what his life would be like if him and Harry didn’t hate each other. He can’t picture it, really. The incessant bickering that often turns into real arguing, the nasty looks, the eye rolls, the middle fingers. It all feels very necessary at this point. Or, the one where two fighters can also be lovers because routines are never permanent.

➻ we are ghosts amongst these hills | louisgaynkles | Soulmates - reincarnation - historical - slow burn - angst - fluff - 84k Harry spontaneously buys a house in Yorkshire because the universe, or fate, keeps leading him to it. What he didn’t know, is that his new house comes with a past that seems to be mysteriously tied to his own life. Before he knows it he finds himself travelling back in time, stuck in the middle of a century old love story. Featuring Louis as a farmer with a passion for gardening, Zayn as the heir to the local manor, Niall as a pub owner with a secret, and a truly underappreciated Liam. Based on Mariana by Susanna Kearsley

➻ through the wheatfields and the coastlines | thepolourryexpress | farms - cowboys - angst - implied/referenced homophobia - implied/referenced gun use - humor - smut - 53k “You’re not from around here, are ya?” Hot Cowboy asks, tracking his little lamb with his eyes. Louis frowns slightly, having thought he was doing pretty well at not sticking out like a sore thumb. It’s not like he’s not from around here — it’s not his first summer he’s spent at his grandparents'. But he supposes that the Manhattan city lifestyle that he’s used to is always going to shine through. “I’m visiting family for the summer,” Louis explains, cheeks a little pink. “Trying to get some work done without distractions.” Or, alternatively, the one where Louis needs inspiration, and a certain cowboy and his lamb are the perfect distraction.

➻ An Irrationally Strong Bond Between Two People | jishler | dystopia - friends to lovers - angst - first time - 18k Before The Advancement, most human lives and careers were plagued by irrationality and a lack of productivity. This was largely the symptom of what scientists refer to as “interpersonal passion,” which included two separate (though often conjointly occurring) phenomena: “love,” and “sex.” “Love” was a pre-Advancement word which referred to an irrationally strong bond between two people, which caused its sufferers to prioritise their fellow “lover,” as well as the integrity of the malignant bond itself, over vital things such as workplace productivity. Taken every two weeks in pill form, The Drug immediately removes interpersonal passion from the human psyche. Children’s friendships do not have the capacity to develop into full-fledged “love” since they are not yet adults. Every person over eighteen takes The Drug gladly, grateful that it allows them to be productive, clear-headed, and rational members of society. A few weeks before Louis’ eighteenth birthday, Harry and Louis fall in love. (Based on the book Louis writes in indiaalphawhiskey's Our Lives, Non-Fiction.)

➻ And When It's Time | larryftnoctrl | Soulmates - soulmate-identifying timers - 6k Louis wants a soulmate, Harry loves his free will. They don't exactly go hand in hand. Prompt: AU where you have a countdown on your wrist for when you're going to meet your soulmate and if you miss it the time will reset. Louis/Harry keep having awful luck and always are missing their time until one day they don't. Maybe the other one is scared/has anxiety about meeting their soulmate? Maybe one time they're in a relationship so they intentionally miss their time? Who knows! But they finally meet :D

➻ made for lovin' you | cuddlerlouis | a/b/o - enemies to lovers - hate to love - soulmates - hurt/comfort - angst - fluff smut - 53k “I’m in,” is all Louis receives. He blinks a few times, making sure he’s reading this right. “For real?” he asks, just to be a hundred percent sure. “Yes,” pops up. “How do you wanna pursue?” The alpha adds, like he’s on a special mission or something. “I’m gonna call us a cab to go to mine. Once I know it’s here, I’ll leave and join you there,” Louis explains. “I’ll text you to go around five minutes before it arrives, so it doesn’t look suspicious, and our friends don’t notice us leaving together.” “Noted.” So Louis does, and ten minutes later, he’s sat in the backseat of a cab, next to Harry Styles, the person he hates the most but unfortunately still finds attractive. They’re on their way to fuck in Louis’ flat. Splendid. - Or the one where a quick, horny decision ruins Louis’ summer plans, but may also lead to unexpected discoveries. Featuring the road trip of dreams, misunderstandings, and a bit of fate.

➻ deFENCEless | solvetheminourdreams | neighbors - enemies to lovers enemies to friends to lovers - gardening - fluff - humor - banter - no smut - 27k "I moved here first," Louis says with finality, crossing his arms over his chest. Harry shoots him an unimpressed look before leaning forward, leaving only a tiny gap between them. "Then get the fence first," he whispers, lips a mere inch or two away from Louis'. When Louis butts heads with his new neighbor who loves to garden a little too much, all he can do to protect his yard (and heart), is keep on building up his fence(s).

➻ Canyon Moon | delsicle | a/b/o - werewolf - soulmates - childhood friends - friends to lovers - arranged marriage - mutual pining - hurt/comfort - angst - 41k For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry. Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind. An A/B/O Lion King AU

➻ only guilty of loving you | sweetrevenge | a/b/o - strangers to lovers - blind date - soulmates - fluff - angst - mutual pining - smut - 22k After Harry gets set up with his co-worker's alpha friend Louis, he's expecting some pleasant conversation, free dinner, and maybe a new friend. What he doesn't expect, however, is that Louis' arrival in his life begins a life of crime Harry never knew he had in him. A You've Got Mail!AU with a twist.

➻ 'Til Everything Changes | lovelarry10 | a/b/o - older characters - brokend bond - loss - falling in love - fluff - implied mpreg - smut - 57k Harry’s nose twitched as he caught a scent on the breeze, one that sent a shudder through his whole body. His eyes closed subconsciously, and he lost himself in the heady scent, the vanilla top notes, and the more woody undertones, making every hair on Harry’s body stand on end. That was how Harry discovered this man was an Alpha. “Jaz, Harry, this is my Uncle Louis. Lou, this is my girlfriend Jasmine, and her dad Harry.” "Lovely to meet you,” Louis grinned, leaning in and kissing Jasmine’s cheek quickly, a respectful Alpha gesture. Harry held his breath as Louis stuck out a hand, taking it almost reluctantly, certain the Alpha would pick up on his own scent and the nerves flowing through it. “Hi, Harry.” “Hi,” Harry said, his voice low and raspy, still affected by Louis’ scent. “Nice to meet you.” ~~~~ Harry’s an Omega who has been alone for too long. Louis’ an Alpha who is scared to find love again. Thanks to the meddling of Harry’s teenage daughter and her boyfriend, the two seem destined to meet, and it might just change everything they thought they knew about their lives. Will they find what they didn’t realise they’ve always wanted in each other?

➻ Mind Over Matter (You Under Me) | youreyesonlarry | ice hockey - hurt/comfort - angst - fluff - major character injury - pining - unrequited love hospitalization - smut - 74k It’s dark outside when Harry finishes practice for the day. -------- Prompt 21: Harry stopped playing hockey (after 10 years of a professional career) because of a severe injury. The dream he worked so hard for vanished in the blink of an eye. His family insisted that he had to go to physical therapy, even if it only helped his health. Cue to personal assistant Louis, the most efficient and kind PA one could hire

➻ Rooms on Fire | softfonds | a/b/o - actors - famous/famous - friends with benefits - secret relationship - 34k Ten years ago, Louis helping Harry through a heat was the start of a romance that ended in heartbreak. Now, Harry's marriage is over thanks to his husband's very public infidelity, and Louis is fresh off a Golden Globe win. The last thing they both expect is to be cast in the same movie.

➻ Stumbling Into Your Arms | sunshineandthemoonlight | a/b/o - strangers to lovers - college/university - fluff - 7k Suddenly, Harry’s nose was brushing against Louis' neck, where his scent was overwhelming. Harry jerked his head to the side and took a deep breath of air, trying to clear his nose of Louis’ scent. ‘Don’t get slick, don’t get hard, don’t get slick’, he repeated to himself in his head, like a mantra. Louis and Harry are university students heading home for the holidays. Harry quickly becomes enraptured by the attractive alpha standing across from him in the train carriage, who has a heavenly scent and a gentle smile.

➻ Little by Little | nonsensedarling | mpreg - non traditional a/b/o - exploring sexuality - exploring secondary gender norms - gender identity strangers to friends to lovers - mutual pining - fluff - slow burn - 65k Harry Styles is an omega who works at the London Planetarium, has lived in the same flat for ages, and is happy enough on his own. When he gets home from his first (horrible) attempt at dating in years, a new pregnant neighbor knocks on his door after smelling his cooking. He and Louis quickly become close, but their friendship gets complicated when Harry begins questioning who he is and what he likes. Or Harry discovers figuring out who you are is more complicated than a potato metaphor.

#28th appreciation #fic rec #monthly reads #monthly fic rec #my reads #larry fics #completed fics

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hacash · 3 years

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ted lasso 2x09 thoughts

ARGH

those are it. those are my thoughts.

Ok, slightly more coherently…

Sam’s getting recognition! Sam has his own chant! I love that for him. Love it all. It’s obviously so good that Sam is becoming an in-universe hero when we’ve loved him from his first scene - however, that also comes with the caveat of not wanting him to move anywhere from Nelson Road. I’m curious to see where they take it though, because I obviously can’t see Toheeb Jimoh leaving the cast before the show finishes, but at the same time this offer is so good for him?? I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.

(If, on the other hand, Toheeb is being written out because he’s going on to star as a lead in another show where we could see more of his beautiful face and stellar acting every week? I would find that acceptable.)

Screeners’ reactions for this episode had me thinking something cataclysmic and dreadful was going to happen between Sam and Rebecca with them reuniting and it hitting the papers - and it ended up being fine?? Of course she’s torn about him leaving. Even if they end up never being together again Sam clearly represents something wonderful to Rebecca - possibility and the sense of being treated right - and those feelings don’t just go away.

I expected a bit more reaction from Ted about the whole Sambecca thing, but that little look in his eyes after their conversation did have me curious - does he disapprove more than he lets on? is he secretly pining for Rebecca already? only time will tell. also I did notice Ted was once again basically saying whatever Rebecca wanted to hear and agreeing at every single line - he might be going to therapy but he’s not out of the people-pleaser woods yet.

Another bombshell next year? OH COME ON. If that’s not a prediction of some sort of confession of love I will go out and buy a hat just to eat it.

SHARON. How I am going to miss thee. But it was a lovely and understated farewell to a character that I’ve really come to love - Sexy Mother Fucker; he stole my move, yaas - showing how much she and Ted have helped each other grow and I just *tear*. Also I’m a Tedbecca shipper through and through, but Jason and Sarah do have such lovely chemistry together.

Also the pub regulars basically pleading for free therapy? Aww.

Higgins luring Ted back to read Sharon’s note with a well-chosen letter based pun? I love this man to the ends of the earth.

I FUCKING KNEW THAT HIGGINS KNEW EVERYONE’S BIRTHDAY. I PREDICTED THAT SHIT.

Roy and Keeley…I’m sorry, I’m emotional and anxious and hopeful and I do not think they’re going to break up. Relationships go through messy spots and people struggle, and the mark of a good, communicative, grown-up relationship is that you take time and discuss your issues and move past them. Keeley and Roy’s relationship has always been characterised by that maturity, and I just don’t see a couple of ill-timed romance confessions breaking that down.

(If anything, we might get a discussion from Roy about Keeley trusting him - I’m guessing there’s a fair bit of time lapsed between Jamie’s confession and her telling all to Roy, and I can see that being the sticking point that upsets Roy, that she hid this from him for some time. He clearly didn’t feel at all upset by what happened with Nate; it’s the - arguably fair - point that Keeley didn’t let him know that her ex confessed love for her that I think is going to be the issue.)

Also, the ‘are you married’ question - coupled with the fact that we keep seeing Roy on his knees in front of Keeley - makes me think we’re going to get a proposal next episode.

Also I love that we’re seeing more of Keeley’s psyche beyond the ‘cute and supports everyone’ façade - her mother’s experience with ambition and not being able to achieve it is a really interesting little snippet, not to mention the reason she bonds so much with Nate and is able to see how someone seemingly ‘undeserving’ should be able to realise their dreams.

also her and Rebecca’s ‘bleargggggh!’ competition! and Ted thinking he was going to be on the cover of Vanity Fair! return of Biscuits with the Boss!

ok, deep breaths now

NAAAAAATE

WHAT ARE YOU DOOIIIIIIING

Is it bad that I sort of liked the whole thing with Keeley? Not in a ‘yes I want this to happen’ sort of way, but because it makes so much sense that Nate (particularly Nate in his current state) might mistake that level of bonding and emotional support as something romantic. We know Nate is insecure and hasn’t had much of a social life in the past, and that he idealises Keeley for her basic kindness and decency: much like Jamie in 2x10, he’s mistaking Keeley’s kindness as something more…it’s absolutely gutting to watch, and also so human and real that I can’t help but take my hat off to the writers for it.

(Honestly, there’s been so many posts on tumblr about how toxic masculinity fucks men over to such an extent that when they receive kindness and friendship for a woman they immediately think romance - but yeah. this show does tick all the boxes.)

I did see the kiss moment coming a mile away and was really worried that Nate was going to be…uh, very entitled about it, given his current state, but the fact that he wasn’t - that he was immediately horrified and realised he’d fucked up and stumbles away muttering about how he ‘is worried about it’ and ends the scene spitting at himself in the mirror again and looking absolutely disgusted with himself - well, in a way that just hurt more. (I mean, I’m relieved Nate wasn’t all bolshy with it because his reaction does show there is still some of the old Nate still there…but still, owch.)

And then that text from Trent…

Next episode is going to hurt like hell, isn’t it? I absolutely cannot wait for the showdown between Nate and Ted, it’s been a long time coming…like I’ve said, while I think ultimately Nate is going to have a redemption arc, because thematically it makes sense and would send some pretty iffy messages if he doesn’t, I don’t think it’ll come until season three. Right now I just want to see Ted get angry after several seasons of suppressing his anger, I want a full-blown emotional hash-out between them both - basically I want Jason and Nick to have me sobbing before 9AM.

My one question is: are we going to see Nate realising what he’s done, or not? Was this a pragmatic, doing-this-for-the-sake-of-the-club betrayal or a blind, lashing-out-in-frustration betrayal? In short: is Nate Lando or Anakin in this scenario?

I’m very curious as to what show people who say this ‘came out of nowhere’ have been watching. Nate’s been heading for some sort of implosion since mid-season, and we all knew it was going to hurt some innocent bystanders.

I’m saving something light and cheery after all the angst, so let me just say: cinema has never surpassed, and will never surpass, the scene of the Richmond boys dancing along to Bye Bye Bye. Almost made up for the fact that they were criminally underused in the rest of the episode, and quite frankly this had better be redressed in the season finale.

and WE FINALLY SAW COLIN DRIVING THE LAMBO. I don’t know what I find funnier: the fact that it’s some neon lime green monstrosity that every fourteen-year old boy would have dreamt of owning growing up (should my new Colin tag be Colin ‘I Need To Rethink My Relationship With My Car’ Hughes, or Colin ‘More Money Than Sense’ Hughes? enquiring minds want to know…) or as was pointed out to me by @kamillahn, the look of absolute terror on Colin’s face as he begins to drive. Colin, hun, please just buy yourself a Fiat. It’s not worth it anymore.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #the little things

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kaypeace21 · 4 years

Text

El and “post institutional syndrome” (psych analysis)

Before I go in depth with this condition. I wanted to discuss the unique real life case of Genie (whose experiences most closely resemble El ‘s) . And , because of this , could possibly give us insight on how El’s past may affect her psychosocial development .

“Genie had spent almost her entire childhood locked in a bedroom, isolated and ab*sed by her father for the first 13 years of her life. The social worker soon discovered that the girl had been confined to a small room, and an investigation by authorities quickly revealed that the child had spent most of her life in this room. The windows were curtained and the door was kept closed.”

“At this time, she could only speak a few words -- including "stopit" and "nomore."

“While her circumstances until that point were undeniably tragic, they also presented an opportunity for psychologists, linguists, and other researchers to study psychosocial, emotional, and cognitive development in an individual who had suffered from severe social isolation and deprivation. In particular, the discovery of Genie presented an opportunity to study whether a child who was past the so-called "critical period" for language acquisition could learn to speak a first language.”

“The case was important, said psycholinguist and author Harlan Lee, because ‘our morality doesn’t allow us to conduct deprivation experiments with human beings; these unfortunate people are all we have to go on.’

* Brenner not only kept her in isolation via her room but even put her through severe deprivation via solitary confinement as punishment. Putting her in a completely barren dark room for hours.UN Special Rapporteur Juan E. Méndez warned ,”Considering the severe mental pain or suffering solitary confinement may cause, it can amount to t*rture or cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment when used as a punishment, indefinitely, or for a prolonged period, for persons with mental disabilities or juveniles.”

“After assessing Genie's emotional and cognitive abilities, Kent described her as ‘the most profoundly damaged child I've ever seen … Genie's life is a wasteland.’ She began to experience more developmental progress, but remained poor in areas such as language.Susan Curtiss worked with Genie to teach her English. Genie soon developed a rather large lexicon and was able to express herself. But despite extensive training, she remained unable to produce grammatical sentences. Here is a transcript of one of her reports of her time in the hands of her father:

Father hit arm. Big wood. Genie cry ... Not spit. Father. Hit face—spit ... Father hit big stick. Father angry. Father hit Genie big stick. Father take piece wood hit. Cry. Me cry.”

“According to Lenneberg, the critical period for language acquisition lasts until around age 12. After the onset of puberty (at 13), he argued, the organization of the brain becomes set and no longer able to learn and utilize language in a fully functional manner.The case of Genie confirms that there is a certain window of opportunity that sets the limit for when you can become relatively fluent in a language. Of course, if you already are fluent in another language, the brain is already primed for language acquisition . If you have no experience with grammar, however, Broca's (an area of the brain) remains relatively hard to change: you cannot learn grammatical language production later on in life. But the abilities to understand language and produce language in ways that do not rely on grammar largely make use of Wernicke's area in the temporal lope. This area is capable of expanding and rewiring throughout life—even after the teen years. The case of Genie confirms this. Grammar was beyond reach for her. But language comprehension and storytelling were not.”

So El struggling with grammar in some sentences but not in others and improving in grammar unlike Jennie- could possibly be because unlike Jeanie, El was 12 when rescued vs Jeanie who was 13?

“Researchers were also left to wonder whether Genie had suffered from cognitive deficits caused by her years of severe neglect or if she had been born with an ‘intellectual disability’. Most believed, the permanent mental impairments and ‘developmental delays’ Genie exhibited (upon being assessed ) were the result of the isolation and deprivation she was subjected to.”

For those confused about certain terms just used. “Developmental delays appear before 22 years of age. They are life-long disabilities that affect one or both physical and cognitive functioning. ‘Intellectual disability’ encompasses the “cognitive” part of this definition, that is, a disability that is broadly related to thought processes. People with intellectual disabilities are known for having below-average IQ/cognitive abilities . ID can be caused by a myriad of things- including physical and genetic factors, problems during pregnancy or at birth, health issues at an early age, exposure to environmental toxins, or non-physical causes such as lack of stimulation.”

*DISCLAIMER before we begin: I’m saying this now, cause I expect bad actors to try and cancel me. El , even if she has an intellectual disability- is still a human being with many aspirational character traits- that people can admire or aspire to have . She’s kind, selfless, brave, and resilient. People with ID can still function and have jobs, make decisions, and learn new skills too. And they have human emotions like everyone else. if you are “offended” that I say a character you like may have ID - and are pissy you related and empathized to a character that you would otherwise have ‘othered’ cause they have an intellectual disability. Me, an autistic person, (who the fandom has bullied for being autistic) is not the ableist one for simply saying she may have an Intellectual disability .Being angry by the very idea a character you like has a condition , and saying it’s “offensive”/”insulting to them” (is ableist). And in a sense dehumanizes these people who are greatly underestimated and mistreated by society already. you don’t have to agree of course- but don’t try to smear me for stating my opinion based on the psych papers I’ll be discussing. I love El, and have a cousin with ID, so no this isn’t me insulting El. The Duffers said they wanted to give a voice to those “othered” by society- and people who aren’t neurotypical could easily be on the list. The Duffers having us love, relate, and empathize with a character such as this wouldn’t be a bad thing- but good rep .So now I’ll continue with the evidence that alludes to El possibly having ID.

Post institutional syndrome

“In clinical and abnormal psychology, POST INSTITUTIONAL SYNDROME- refers to deficits or disabilities in social and life skills, which develop after a person has spent a long period living in remote institutions (such as orphanages). “

“Growing up in such an environment can change the brain for good.Institutionalization in early childhood can alter a child's brain and behavior in the long run.The ongoing nature of chronic neglect significantly impacts the brain in infancy and early childhood. It suggests that the specific ages of approximately 6−18 months old , may be especially sensitive to developing deficiencies in orphanage environments. “ (*Making El who was raised in such an environment since birth quite susceptible ).

“According to Perry (2002), neglect at this phase impedes formation of neurological pathways essential to communication in the brain. They found that early institutionalization changed both the structure and the function of the brain. Any time spent in an institution shrunk the volume of gray matter, or brain cell bodies, in the brain. Kids who stayed in the orphanages instead of going to foster care also had less white matter, or the fat-covered tracts between brain cell bodies, than kids who, at a young age, moved in with families.Staying in an orphanage instead of foster care also resulted in lower-quality brain activity as measured by EEG.”

“Neglect may be the most detrimental maltreatment type on brain development.A child’s neurocognitive and emotional development rapidly moves towards a downward spiral following extended time in an institution.Normal development may be disrupted by deprivation associated with neglect and can result in dysregulation of neural systems during vulnerable periods of brain development, leading to pronounced neurocognitive deficits due to maltreatment.There are many outcomes related to this disruption in brain development: delays in development of IQ , delays in language, cognitive delays that impact learning, and difficulty with behavioral inhibitions, social emotional functioning and well as impaired attachment (Wilkerson, 2009; Barkley, 1997).”

“Low-stimulation environments can lead to lower scores on intelligence and language tests. Neglect is the type of maltreatment most strongly associated with delays in expressive, receptive, and overall language development.interpersonal interaction is necessary for the acquisition of early language, and these interactions may be limited for children that have been in institutional settings or have experienced physical or emotional neglect.Speech and language delays along with social-emotional delays are very common as the child continues in the institutional environment.”

“Compared with youth that were not neglected, children demonstrated lower cognitive and language scores and more behavioral problems.Higher IQ could be predicted by language scores and an absence of externalizing behavior problems. When comparing the neglected children: shorter time spent in a stable environment, lower scores on language skills, and the presence of externalizing behavior problems predicted lower IQ.”

“The cognitive development of institutionalized children has been studied for more than 60 years. Between 1930 and 1950 a first wave of studies documented that children in institutions often showed a low IQ and severe language delays (Crissey, 1937; Durfee & Wolf, 1933), and children’s orphanages have been considered “natural experiments” on the necessary conditions for intellectual growth (MacLean, 2003).For example, Rutter (1998) found that the mean IQ of children leaving institutional care in Romania shortly after the fall of Ceausescu was about 50 (population mean = 100). Similar results were shown with Dennis in (1973) who addressed the question of how large the cognitive delay of children in orphanages was compared to children adopted into families. He studied children who were abandoned immediately after birth and were reared in children’s homes in Lebanon.Dennis found that at age 11, the average IQ of the adopted children was within the range of normally developing children, whereas the non-adopted 11 y old orphans still living in these institutions were diagnosed as Intellectually disabled.At his followup, when they were 16, these same girls at the Zouk institution had an average IQ going just above 50. While, In a meta-analysis of 75 studies, van IJzendoorn et al. (2008) found that children living in institutional care scored on average 20 points lower on intelligence tests than children who were raised in families.”

“These later studies also revealed that the percentage of time spent in institutional care was significantly and negatively correlated with full scale IQ, verbal, and memory scores. And that 12 years of institutional care, from birth to 12 years of age, showed placement into foster care did not increase iq points .The only cognitive improvement of placing these children in foster care at age 12 -was on working memory. While the only cognitive improvements of taking the children out of the institution by 8 years old was on processing speed. “

pics for proof if you don’t believe me-

* Meaning realistically El who was in such an environment (from birth to 12 years old) may learn new things after being placed in foster care (like with Hopper or the Byers)-but her Iq would never improve to the point of being neurotypical- she’d always have an intellectual disability.

Intellectual disability

“People with intellectual and learning Disabilities may have deficits in speech production . Impairment of speech production is among the most commonly reported difficulties in children, adolescents and adults with ID . The children, including some with mild and moderate intellectual disabilities may lack in phonological development in their speech. These children also exhibit many articulatory deficits, delays in expressive language and show significant limitations in grammar and syntax development compared to those their age (without an iD). They often speak in subdued tones or use explosive voice modulations .Some speak quietly, while in others vocal intensity varied from utterance to utterance. “

“Intellectual disability is identified as mild , moderate, severe or profound.”

So, if based on average of Iq of children raised in orphanages (from birth to 11,12, or 16 years old). El would have a mild intellectual disability (and an Iq possibly around 50).Of those affected with ID, about 85% fall into the "mild" category.

Mild intellectuality disability disorder symptoms:

-”being fully independent in self-care when they get older (brushing teeth, dressing themselves, cooking, taking public transport, etc)”

-having problems with reading and writing (having math/reading skills between a 3rd- 6th grade level).

-having an IQ range of 50 to 69

-social immaturity

“Iq below 70 isn’t the only marker for diagnosis. But, also issues in adaptive functioning are usually used for diagnosis. Three areas of adaptive functioning are considered:According to the DSM-5 (APA, 2013), the signs and symptoms of adaptive functioning deficits across 3 domains (conceptual ,social and practical) for a mild intellectual disability are:

Conceptual Domain

”Slow language development (children learn to talk later, if at all). Or problems learning to talk or trouble speaking clearly.”

”Difficulties in academic learning ( such as having math/reading skills between a 3rd- 6th grade level).”

* El can read but still struggles with proper grammar ( verbally and through her writing) .She’s even reading an english-learning book. Her unsteady handwriting/ lack of apostrophes hint she’s still learning to write (despite her reading abilities) . And at 14 she doesn’t know what a state is-specifically Illinois which she visited 6 months prior.

”Difficulty understanding academic and abstract concepts of time “

*She didn’t start learning how to tell time until 12, and only seemed to master it at 14.

“childish behavior inconsistent with the child’s age.”

*14 y old El and 5 y old Holly both having a thing for teddy bears, in s3/2.

”Problems with abstract thinking, short term memory, and cognitive flexibility”. (”Abstract reasoning tasks include the ability to understand subjects on a complex level through analysis and evaluation and the ability to apply knowledge in problem-solving.”)

(”Cognitive flexibility has been described as the mental ability to switch between thinking about two different concepts, and to think about multiple concepts simultaneously.”)

*This one is a bit iffy, cause there’s a few explanations to the s3 example. El and Mike lie to their friends about her curfew.Yet the next day she is confused and says Mike wouldn’t lie to her - cause “friends don’t lie” All despite the fact she and Mike lied to Dustin, Max, Will, and Lucas the day before. So either she doesn’t understand the concept of hypocrisy because she lacks cognitive flexibility (or just doesn’t care about the hypocrisy)- aka her and Mike can lie to their friends, but she’s upset when they lie to her, (and she’s fine if Mike lies to everyone but her) ? Personally,I think she doesn’t grasp the concept of hypocrisy yet. Or she didn’t even realize she was lying and believed Mike was right about her curfew. Or bad writing. But given the concept of lying being prevalent to the season- I lean to Mike accidentally lying to her about her curfew (and El thinking her curfew was 4:00) . Or (more likely) El lies and doesn’t have the cognitive flexibility/abstract reasoning to understand that being upset Mike lied to her but not upset Mike (and her) lied to their friends is hypocritical. She also lied to Mike and pretended she didn’t hear the confession at the cabin for 3 months. She ‘forgave’ Mike but she never noticed Mike didn’t even apologize for lying just being ‘jealous of Max’ (despite lying being the thing she was upset and dumped him over in the first place). Anyways back on topic-

Social Domain

“Receptive language that may be limited to comprehension of simple speech and gestures.These students struggle to differentiate concrete and abstract concepts. Figurative language (metaphors, similes, idiomatic expressions, etc.) is typically quite confusing to them.”

“trouble understanding social cues”

“Limitations in language and communication skills.More concrete and less complex spoken language (if used), compared with peers. Limited vocabulary and grammatical skills.”

Practical Domain:

“May function age-appropriately in personal care (brushing teeth, dressing, going to the restroom etc).”

Early signs and symptoms of intellectual disability:

El has most of the signs...

-”Have trouble speaking or experiencing delays in speech, trouble understanding social norms,Challenges with problem-solving and logical thinking, Behavioral problems like extreme temper tantrums (breaking windows, pushing max, throwing food on Hopper and the girls in the mall), Having difficulty understanding the results of his or her actions (for instance like not understanding why spying on an ex is wrong).”

“If your child has ID, they may experience some of the following behavioral issues:aggression, Dependency, lack of impulse control passivity, stubbornness,low tolerance for frustration ,difficulty paying attention (She’s exhibited all of these).”

Other traits of Post institutional children

“poor self concept” (One's self-concept is a collection of beliefs about oneself. Generally, self-concept embodies the answer to "Who am I?".)

“problems with coping and regulating emotions ,poor impulse control, and aggressiveness.”

“Studies have repeatedly shown that children with disrupted attachment who have experienced neglect have problems coping and managing emotions, “

“inappropriately demanding and clinging”

“indiscriminate friendliness”

“44% of institutionalized children showed high levels of indiscriminately sociable behavior as contrasted with 18% of children who had never been institutionalized.children who were indiscriminately sociable as 8-year olds were not indiscriminately sociable toward adults as 16-year olds; however, these children were indiscriminately sociable in their relationships with peers (those their own age). Thus, it is possible that indiscriminate sociability serves as a marker of later problems in social relationships, even though manifesting differently by the teen years.That friendliness was probably an important coping technique in their socially starved early lives. What's interesting is it just doesn't go away.Indiscriminate friendliness may also be tied to the amygdala. In a study using fMRI, Aviva Olsavsky, MD, at the University of California, Los Angeles, and colleagues found that when typical children (4-14 years old) viewed photos of their mothers versus photos of strangers, the amygdala showed distinctly different responses. In children who had been institutionalized, however, the amygdala responded similarly whether the children viewed mothers or strangers. That response was particularly notable among kids who exhibited more friendliness toward strangers. Attachment and behavior problems, indiscriminate friendliness, and lower IQ seem to go together in the same children.”

(We have to admit she attached herself rather quickly to Max, and Kali after only a few days, same goes for Mike and the boys she knew for only a week).

“cognitive delays, particularly speech and language deficits.” (we’ve covered that)

“quasi autism (is a term used to describe autistic-like difficulties and traits following very severe social deprivation in the first year of life.) About 10 % percent of the children adopted from Romanian orphanages after 6 months of age were diagnosed with autism sometime in childhood. And of those who stayed in the institution to age 11, 8.5% with an IQ >50 , fit the “quasi-autism” profile (meaning they fit some but not all autistic traits). The results showed children with ‘autistic features’ usually experienced longer durations of severe psychological privation, than other orphans.”

El does have a few traits that some people on the spectrum have.

-” Many children with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) use echolalia, which means they repeat others' words or sentences. They might repeat the words of familiar people (parents, teachers, friends), or they might repeat sentences from their favorite video.”

(X)

-”Some children with ASD also have delayed speech and language skills.some children are even selectively mute. “

- ”Talk in a flat, robot-like tone” (obviously not all asd people. But I do think El’s voice in conversation can often be quite monotone).

- Many autistic girls on the spectrum also have disordered eating patterns . This can include simply eating the same foods over and over again (cough her eggo obsession). And although “disorder eating” and “eating dis*rders” are different.”Previous research has found that autism and eating disorders can occur together, as 20-30% of adults with eating dis*rders have autism (despite being only 2.2% of the US population).”

-“Has obsessive interests” (her whole room is covered in Mike related stuff like he’s her special interest- my gay ass has no idea if a whole room covered in bf related stuff is ‘straight little girl normal’ or a bit obsessive- but I lean to the latter, especially when compared to Max’s room XD)

-” difficulty understanding social cues .” (covered that)

- “And she is sensitive to certain noises (thunder etc)”

Alright, thanks for listening. Of course, this analysis is if the Duffers went the realistic route-which I do lean to them doing. One of the stephen King movies “dream catcher” was cited as inspiration for Stranger things . It even had a boy with ID who spoke in broken english, carried around stuffed animals, and had the superpower of being able to track people (just like El) . And he retained broken english/his interest in stuffed animals in adulthood.Of course her fitting the psych criteria I listed could have other explanations.El can most certainly learn and improve in academic skills, language, and social skills even with an Intellectual disability. But honestly, even if El had an Iq of 160 she would (at least initially) struggle tremendously given the lack of education and neglect/ab*se she’s dealt with.But, I’m excited to see El gain independence as she learns more about herself and the real world (and maybe heal from some of her tr*uma).

But if we’re talking academically-she doesn’t know basic geography or what a state is at 14.She’s still learning how to speak and write with correct grammar at 14.She only just mastered how to tell time at 14 . Does she even know how to add, subtract, multiple, and divide, let alone algebra (knowledge needed for highschool) ? Or basic science knowledge also needed ? No way would she’d be ready to go to highschool in s3 (like the others already attending, during the ending-time skip). If we were being realistic- she’d be held back a few years and or in remedial classes, or special school, etc. The kids in middle or highschool who don’t know her circumstances wouldn’t be understanding of why she has little knowledge of social norms, expressions, language issues,etc. El has only interacted with 4 kids her own age for 3 months (9 months with Mike) and was in a year of isolation with Hopper (being taught social norms via tv- which is not the best teacher) .This was hardly ‘typical socialization for a kid her age’. Unlike, the rest of the gang who interacts with many kids on a daily basis.How will she be in an environment with this many kids? I wouldn’t be surprised if she was sadly bullied.Regardless, I’m looking forward to El’s character arc of trying to assimilate to the ‘real world’ as she grows into her own person-most likely there’s some good in her journey and not just bullies along the way. :)

#el hopper #jane ives #stranger things

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geralehane · 4 years

Photo

who are you wearing?

a concept: an old lady in an old shop selling old costumes for halloween. nothing out of ordinary. except this shop most certainly wasn’t there yesterday, and the lady keeps giggling to herself, and the costumes have a minor peculiarity to them. hint: they transform their wearers into a more real version of that costume. of course they do.

and of course, clarke and lexa have no idea.

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“I will never understand your obsession with Halloween,” is the first thing Lexa announces when Clarke walks inside their favorite coffee shop near their campus. “But what baffles me even more is the fact that despite your ridiculous obsession with it, you still don’t have a costume.”

“You just had to bring that up, didn’t you?”

Lexa’s green eyes widen with indignation. “That’s the whole reason you called me here,” she points out, and Clarke groans, plopping onto a chair next to her. This is a disaster.

“This is a disaster! I will never find a costume. Halloween is today. What do I do?”

“Again,” Lexa says. “We’ve been over this. I meet you here, we get coffee, we go costume-hunting. Clarke,” she searches blue eyes, her gaze concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Clarke sighs and blows blonde hair from her eyes, propping her cheek up with her hand. “Yeah,” she sighs distractedly. “More or less. This semester is kicking my ass. And I’m pretty sure I failed my psych midterm.”

“Well.” Lexa bends her head down a little so she can catch Clarke’s eyes. When she does, she gives her a small smile and gently pushes hot chocolate towards her, gaze softening when Clarke grumpily takes it and peeks under the cup lid. Her smile only grows when Clarke lights up at having found two marshmallows she was hoping for. “That explains you not having a costume this year.”

“Here you go with bringing that up again.”

“Come on, Clarke.” She looks up at the smile in Lexa’s voice. Green eyes watch her, adoring and warm, and she feels some of her bad mood evaporate. It’s hard to stay upset when you have someone look at you like that.

Too bad that someone only goes as far as simply looking. Clarke sighs again, this time for a whole other reason that, unbeknownst to Lexa, has nothing to do with Halloween and everything to do with her.

She was really looking forward to tonight. Ever since Lexa’s kissed her at the beginning of their sophomore year, she’s been mulling some things over. Things like her recent break-up with Finn and her level of readiness for new relationships.

(And also things like Lexa looking really hot in tank tops.)

Anyway, her thinking resulted in some interesting conclusions and revelations that at first she wasn’t really ready to share with Lexa. But over the course of these two months, she’s been slowly opening herself up to the possibility of accepting Lexa’s offer that the other girl wordlessly left at the table, Clarke’s for the taking. She only hopes it doesn’t have an expiration date.

She also really, really hopes it’s still there to begin with. Or else she’ll look all kinds of stupid kissing Lexa tonight.

Doesn’t matter, though. She’ll look stupid anyway. Because she doesn’t have a costume.

Clarke groans and lets her head fall on her folded arms on the table. She half-sits, half-lays there, unmoving, not phased in the slightest when Lexa starts to carefully poke at her.

“Clarke,” Lexa says again, fond exasperation coloring her voice. “We’ll find you a costume. It won’t be a very good costume, but it’ll be something.”

“Thanks,” Clarke deadpans into her arm. “You ever think about becoming a motivational speaker? Could be a decent source of income if the whole lawyer thing doesn’t work out.”

“Look,” Lexa’s hand on her arm makes her lift her eyes. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t have a costume either.”

“Not really. Now I just feel sorry for both of us.”

Lexa snorts. The sound is so uncharacteristically undignified, and it makes Clarke’s chest flood with warmth. A weird thing to have fuzzy tingles over, sure. But - Lexa’s only ever like this with her. No one else. To Clarke, that’s something to cherish. “Okay. Didn’t think it would come to this, but you leave me no choice.” She pauses, no doubt for a dramatic effect. “I will let you choose my costume this year.”

“Really?!” Clarke jumps up, eyes wide. “Are you serious? Wait, I forgot who I was talking to for a second. Of course you're serious.”

“You’re a riot today,” Lexa notes dryly. “I’m gonna be a robot, aren’t I?”

Clarke scoffs. “Please,” she says. “Give me a little more credit than that.”

“Why.” Lexa stares at Clarke through the mirror, and the incredulity of her gaze makes Clarke seriously question her intellectual ability.

“You didn’t have to put it on, you know.”

“I wanted to demonstrate what a bad idea this is.”

Clarke shrugs. “Mission failed,” she lets Lexa know. “I think you look adorable.”

Lexa huffs, folding her arms defensively. “It’s a raccoon onesie,” she points out.

“I know,” Clarke replies in kind, barely resisting from sticking her tongue out at her. “I chose it.”

“Clarke,” Lexa sighs, uncrossing her arms and tugging on a fluffy ear on her hood. “I can’t go in a raccoon onesie.”

Clarke thinks of torturing her just a little bit more, but then reconsiders. Lexa’s already doing a lot for her. Besides, she really does look incredibly cute in this. And, well, in general, but she keeps that thought to herself. For now. “Fine,” she concedes, letting her arms hang lifelessly at her sides. “I give up. I told you we won’t find any good costumes. I’ll just be what I always am at parties. Drunk Clarke.” At Lexa’s disapproving glance, she rolls her eyes. “What? It’s not like I have a choice.”

“Right.” Lexa walks back into the changing room, long fluffy tail trailing after her on the floor. Clarke resists against the urge to step on it and makes a mental note to come back for it later. She sits on a small bench and sighs, waiting for Lexa to change so they can get out of there. This is their fourth store, and so far, nothing. Well, not exactly nothing, per se; a lot of crap, that’s for sure.

Lexa emerges several minutes later, holding the onesie at an arm’s length and glaring at everything and nothing in particular. “We could always wear crappy costumes ironically,” she says. “Pretend we’re being subversive.”

“I don’t want to subvert Halloween,” Clarke protests, rising to her feet. Lexa offers her an elbow, and she takes it, tentatively curling her hand around her bicep. At least something good came out of this whole mess, she thinks. A day with Lexa, followed by a night of partying with Lexa.

She’s not sure she even cares about a stupid costume anymore. But Lexa’s being so attentive - even more so than usual - and she can’t help but milk it for what it’s worth. Hey, she never claimed to be a good person.

“Just ironically, then,” Lexa corrects herself, throwing the onesie over the nearest rack as she confidently leads the way out of the store and into the street. “Or go with some annoying couple’s costume or something.” She’s trying really hard to sound casual, Clarke can tell.

She can tell because Lexa’s failing miserably. And she’s pretty sure she’s about to fail as spectacularly.

“Oh,” she says, cursing inwardly when her voice comes out more high-pitched than usual. “I mean. Oh. I didn’t even think of that.”

Lexa’s face falls slightly, and Clarke just wants to punch herself. She hurries to do damage control. “Because I didn’t want to force you into something you didn’t want to do! Because - I mean - I didn’t want to, uh, to assume anything. Because of… stuff. Us stuff, I mean.” by the time she’s finished with her babble fest, her face feels hot. Lexa keeps silent through all of it, slowing down so that they are standing still when Clarke’s done making a complete fool of herself.

When it’s clear she’s finished talking, Lexa speaks up. “I suggested this precisely because of… us stuff.”

Clarke blinks. “Oh.” And, seriously, can she say something other than that?

Lexa’s studying her carefully, her expression unreadable save for her eyes, vibrant and soft. “Are you - is that okay?” she asks.

“Oh, Lexa,” Clarke breathes out, smiling. All tension is suddenly gone from her body, replaced with relief and excitement, buzzing through her veins. “It’s more than okay,” she murmurs, sliding her hand down to Lexa’s and taking it in her own. Lexa’s fingers automatically lace with her own, and she feels a sweet pang in her chest at that. “I… I’ve been meaning to talk to you about… stuff.”

“Us stuff?” Lexa clarifies, smiling her small smile that Clarke really, really wants to kiss off her face. She swallows, willing herself to stay put. At least buy her dinner first, Griffin, she tells herself sternly. After what you’ve put her through, this is the least you can do.

(There... may have been some casual hook-ups between breaking up with Finn and realizing Grand Things about her relationship with Lexa that she doesn’t want to think about. If the sharp lock of Lexa’s jaw at a mere mention of them is any indication, she probably doesn’t want to think about them, either.)

So she takes a deep breath and smiles again, shyly. “Yes. Definitely us stuff.”

She wants to say something else, she knows she does. She has a speech prepared and everything - but Lexa’s eyes fall down to her lips, hooded and soft, and suddenly her mind is blank. And, really, don’t actions speak louder than words anyway?

She’s already leaning in and closing her eyes, but she’s met with nothing when she hears Lexa’s voice again, a little scratchier and deeper than usual. “I think I found just the place.”

Clarke’s eyes fly open. Well, that was fast. She’s not the type of girl to shy away from putting out on a first date, but - they haven’t even had that date yet.

(Would that really be a bad thing? They’ve known each other for a long time. A year is a long time, right?)

“The place?” she asks, confused.

Lexa’s looking somewhere over her shoulder as she nods, in the direction of her gaze. “I think that’s exactly what you want,” she says. “It closes in twenty minutes, though. We should hurry.”

Clarke turns around, following Lexa’s stare. What she finds has her nearly squealing. And she doesn’t squeal. Ever. “Lexa,” she breathes excitedly. “This is perfect.”

Further down the street, there is a small shop. It’s antique-looking; a little rugged and a little run-down. Its small store windows display a myriad of halloween-themed things, from skulls to witch hats and what Clarke assumes are possible spell ingredients. Above the old, wooden door, there is a neon sign that couldn’t possibly look more out of place.

‘Costumes for every soul’, it flashes ominously and invitingly, luring Clarke in.

“It… actually is,” Lexa mulles. “Very… Halloween-y. It’s like it’s straight out of a Tim Burton movie.”

Clarke’s already walking towards it, her hand firmly holding onto Lexa’s, and Lexa has no choice but to follow.

The inside is even better than the outside, in Clarke’s honest - and totally right - opinion. It’s dusty, old wood creaking and red brick walls uneven. It’s also more spacious than she originally gave it credit for. Lexa’s hand squeezes hers, and she squeezes back, looking around in complete awe.

She’d, like, actually live here.

“This is so cool,” she hears Lexa exhale next to her.

“I thought you didn’t like Halloween.”

“I can appreciate the aesthetics,” Lexa fires back, but, before they can settle into their comfortable banter, loud coughing behind them makes them jump and sharply turn around to face the counter.

They are greeted by the sight of an old lady in a pointy hat, looking at them with a suspicious squint. “Not stealing, are you?” she utters, and her eyes narrow even further.

Clarke shakes her head while Lexa breathes through her nose, indignant. “No, we’re not stealing anything,” she reassures the old lady who doesn’t look like she believes her. “We’re here to find a costume. For both us.”

The lady looks between them. Glances down at their joined hands, and Clarke bristles when her scowl deepens. “A couple’s costume?” she grunts, clearly displeased.

Clarke lifts her chin. “Yes,” she says defiantly, tightening her hand around Lexa’s. “A couple’s costume.”

She prepares herself for the inevitable backlash they are about to face, no doubt. She certainly doesn’t expect a wide smile to appear on the lady’s face, brightening her expression up.

She almost flinches when the woman clasps her hands together, looking positively giddy. “Well, dear,” she exclaims, “why didn’t you say so? No need to be shy in this shop, my sweet girl.” With an agility rarely possessed by people her age, the old lady walks out from behind the counter and hugs them by their shoulders, turning them around and leading them somewhere in the middle of the shop. Her dark-green robe trails after them on the ground. “I’ve just the thing for you, oh,” she leans in conspiratorially, grinning. “You’ll have a lot of fun tonight, my dear girl - a lot of fun!”

In hindsight, that should’ve been their cue to run away and never come back.

Of course, they stay put. “Okay,” Clarke says dubiously, blinking. “But we really just need a decent costume. Two.”

“Well, who d’you wanna be, darlin’?” she only now notices that the woman’s accent is drifting between extremes: Boston, british, southern drawl. Huh, she thinks to herself. She must have been an actress. Or wanted to be one.

“We, are,” Clarke glances at Lexa who’s watching the whole exchange with a small frown. “We’re not sure.”

“Well, that just will not do!” the woman gasps. “A serious matter, darlin’ - now would you like me to find something for ya or do you want to snoop around for a while?”

“We’ll look around,” Lexa finally speaks up, neutrally. “We won’t be long. Thank you.”

“But of course,” the woman’s smile widens even more, if that’s possible. “I shall leave you two to it. Grumpy little thang, that one - you take care of her, sweetheart,” she tells Clarke before turning sharply on her heels and disappearing between racks full of costumes.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here,” Lexa tries to move, but Clarke’s grip on her han becomes iron.

“Lexa,” she chuckles quietly. “Are you scared of that sweet old lady?”

“She’s not sweet, Clarke, she’s unsettling,” Lexa says in a serious tone.

Clarke only laughs harder. “I’m supposed to be the paranoid one, with the amount of horror movies I watch,” she teases Lexa. “Yet, here we are.”

“I just have a bad feeling about this,” Lexa tries weakly. But Clarke’s mind is already made up.

“Come on,” she tugs on her hand. The realization that they’ve been holding hands this entire time spreads pleasant hum through her body, and she eagerly welcomes it, running her thumb across the back of Lexa’s hand soothingly. “We promised we wouldn’t take long. Let’s find something cool.”

“So,” Lexa cocks her head to the side, looking Clarke up and down. “A quiet meltdown, an entire day, and five stores later, and you pick the cheesiest costume of all?”

Clarke finishes putting fake blood all over her mouth. “Wow,” she muses out loud. “You are a grumpy little thang.”

Lexa doesn’t even blink. “I am,” she says. “You already knew that.”

“Eh,” Clarke shrugs, readjusting the skirts of her dress. “I’m grumpier.”

Lexa can’t exactly argue, so she sighs and tugs on her black frock coat, critically surveying herself in Clarke’s mirror. “I don’t think I have enough blood on my shirt,” she comments. “I just look like a southern gentleman from the nineteenth century. Not a vampire.” She glances at Clarke again. “Are we really going as vampires?”

“Yup,” Clarke pops the ‘p’ when she answers. She’s almost finished with her make-up - it’s the darkest she’s ever wore it, and she can’t say she hates it. Dial it down a notch, and it could be a great look for dates at a bar.

Or private lapdances. They’ll figure it out. “Victorian vampires. You can’t go wrong with the classics.” Admittedly, she’s a little surprised with her own choice. But there was something about these costumes that hung in the back, looking brand new and perfectly tailored. The old lady practically squealed when she saw them wearing those, too.

The fact that she offered them fifty percent off only made her choice easier.

“There is classic, and there is cheesy,” Lexa notes thoughtfully, still looking at herself in the mirror. Oh, how Clarke gets her, She has trouble taking her eyes off Lexa, too. The frock coat accentuates her slim waist and regal posture. High pants show off her endlessly long legs, and a purposefully disheveled necktie around an open collar gives a lovely view of her slender neck.

Clarke comes up to her and fiddles with her tie some more before dipping her fingers in fake blood and dragging them down that beautiful neck, slowly, watching rich crimson color drip on the pristine white of Lexa’s shirt. And Lexa watches her.

“You do look great, you know,” she murmurs to her, lifting her hand to play with blonde locks. “Curls suit you.”

“They disarm people,” Clarke smirks, and if it’s just a touch wicked, Lexa doesn’t say anything. She’s really feeling this costume, okay? “I’m not really above using that to my advantage,” she says, dropping her voice an octave lower. She’s wearing flats, since she’s pretty sure she’ll constantly trip over her long dress in heels, and that gives Lexa a bigger height advantage than usual. Her shoes also have a small heel, which only serves to make her look taller than Clarke.

She thinks she’s okay with it.

“Spoken like a true Victorian vampire,” Lexa chuckles, her warm, minty breath hitting Clarke’s lips. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s not really that cheesy.” She turns to look at them in the mirror, missing a slightly frustrated look that flashes through blue eyes.

‘Why won’t she just kiss me?’

(‘Is she waiting for a perfect moment, like I was?’)

“Yeah, well,” she voices instead, grabbing a wet wipe and cleaning the blood off her fingers. “With all the Batmans and Robins, we’ll definitely stand out.”

“You’re right,” Lexa gently takes her hand and places it on the inside of her bent elbow, and she smiles, leaning closer. “Now, I don’t know about you, dear,” Lexa drawls - or tries to - in her best British accent, “but I am positively hungry. Shall we show them how it’s done?”

“Yes, we shall,” Clarke chuckles, letting Lexa lead her out the door. “Tasteful mayhem, here we come.”

“And ruckus,” Lexa says. “Don’t forget ruckus.”

“I don’t think that’s the right word.”

“Whatever. I’m Victorian.”

“Boo!” Someone with a white sheet draped over them jumps from behind the door and screams out as soon as Clarke and Lexa walk in. Clarke screams back while Lexa drags a hand down her face.

“Raven, what the fuck?!”

Raven - and that’s exactly who it is, considering it’s her house they walked into - tugs the sheet off, grinning at them. “I totally got you, Woods,” she boasts, leaning on her good leg and lifting the cane to wave it in Lexa’s general direction. “Okay, this? Hot. You seeing anyone?”

“Only her sire and eternal lover,” Clarke says, and there is only a hint of joking in her tone. She gestures at herself, twirling so Raven can get a good look. “What do you say?”

Raven’s silent for a fraction of a second. “Hot,” she repeats, this time giving them both a once-over. “Alright, I just need to grab my jacket, and then we can go.” She turns, heading into the kitchen. “Blood kink’s definitely back on the list,” she mutters under her breath.

“What was that, Raven?”

“Nothing!”

Clarke shrugs. “See,” she says to Lexa who’s still shaking her head at Raven’s back. “Told you this is an awesome idea.”

“I’m already sold,” Lexa replies, smiling. “She’s right, you know.”

Clarke hums under her breath. “Right about what?” She’s really enjoying watching the tips of Lexa’s ears grow red.

“You are hot.”

The sound of gagging coming from their left makes them step away from each other - Clarke hasn’t even noticed when they got this close. “Get a room, eternal lover.”

“Get a costume,” Clarke shoots back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Please don’t tell me you’re going as your bedsheet.”

“Alright,” Raven shrugs, rolling the white sheet up and putting it under her arm. “I won’t.” At Clarke’s pointed stare, she scoffs. “Obviously not, Clarke. I’m a ghost! See?” She shakes the sheet in front of Clarke’s nose, laughing when she recoils, scowling.

“I can’t believe we stressed over our costumes so much and you’re going to put a sheet on.”

“If it makes you feel any better, it’s not my bedsheet. I bought it in this weird ass little shop downtown. Two bucks, baby!” Raven exclaims. “Whoa, easy there,” she says next, noticing Lexa flex her jaw muscles in irritation. “She’s all yours. Don’t mean no harm.”

“That’s a double negative.”

“Wow.” Raven gapes at her. “I’m wearing a sheet and I’m still cooler than both of you combined. Tonight’s gonna be so awesome!”

Tonight, in fact, does not turn out to be awesome at all. They don’t even make it to the party when something strange happens. And by strange, Clarke means some weird shit is going down.

At first, they feel dizzy. All three of them. Raven staggers first, almost losing her sheet. That’s what prompts her to tug it on. Clarke will never understand how her mind operates sometimes.

Lexa falters next, and Clarke follows immediately after, stopping and rubbing her forehead.

“Whoa,” Raven mumbles from under the sheet. “Headrush.”

“Yeah,” Lexa says. She goes to say something else, but words die in her throat when she stares over Raven’s shoulder who’s come to stand in front of them. “What the fuck?”

Clarke’s not sure what shakes her more - hearing Lexa swear or seeing what she sees next. Right here, in front of her very eyes, is the ugliest mob she’s ever seen. At first, she thinks it’s just a bunch of dudes wearing masks.

Until one of the dudes pins a screaming guy against a tree and bites his arm with his very real, very sharp, very inhuman teeth.

There were children here, on the street, trick-or-treating. Just now. Just a second ago. Where did they go?

Clarke hears a scream. It takes her awhile to realize it’s coming from her.

What the fuck, indeed.

“Come on,” she hears a familiar voice in her ear before she feels strong arms around her. “Let’s get back inside!”

Clarke can’t tear her eyes away from the scene before her. There’s so much blood. Actual blood. Someone runs up to help the poor guy; two men who wrestle the attacker and drag the victim away. So much blood. So much…

Blood…

Blood.

They barely make it back to Raven’s before they all collapse, breath caught from dull pain spreading brought their bodies starting at the center of their stomachs. Clarke briefly wonders if they are about to be sick from what they've witnessed, and then her mind goes blank.

When she rises back up, her finger lazily wiping at her mouth, everything is sharp and vivid and this sticky substance on her lips tastes heavenly.

Blood.

Lexa's eyes find hers, dark and bloodshot.

“Clarke.” Oh, how she missed that sound. Lexa's tongue curling around the edges of her name, ending with a soft click. She’s been deprived of it for a little over a century, and out of all tortures she had to endure in her lifetime, this has proved to be the worst one.

“My love,” she breathes, grasping the back of her neck, trailing her finger up her neck and gathering thick, fresh blood - she always was a messy eater, Clarke thinks with a blissful grin. “I found you.”

Behind them, Raven sits up, clutching her head and groaning. “What the…” she lifts her eyes that widen when they are greeted by the sight of her friends passionately making out right in her hallway.

But that shock is nothing compared to her glancing down and seeing what suspiciously looks like her own body lying lifelessly on the ground while she sits right in the middle of it. Like, right in the middle of it. As if she’s incorporeal, like an actual ghosts.

“What the fuck?!” seems like an appropriate phrase right about now.

She’s still staring at her own body, terrified, when she notices the house has grown silent, save for the sounds of mayhem outside. When she raises her eyes for a second time, she finds Clarke and Lexa studying her with rapt interest, identical smoldering gazes burning through her as Lexa presses her forehead to Clarke’s cheek, biting her lip at Clarke slowly dragging her nails across her jawline.

This is creepy and weirdly sexual. Normally, Raven would be all for that, but right now, with her seemingly dead body on the floor and two of her friends eyeing her like she’s meat on a stick, she’d much rather opt out of all of this.

“Come, darling,” Clarke says in what is actually a really good British accent. “Dinner is served.”

Since Raven is a fucking ghost now and Victorian vampires are apparently above drinking from the corpse, dinner party stops before it has a chance to begin. And there is no doubt in Raven’s mind that Clarke and Lexa are actual honest-to-god blood-drinking sun-hating cross-fearing weirdly-into-making-out-against-walls vampires.

The last part throws her off the most, because when they come back to their normal selves - and Raven can’t bear the thought of that not happening - knowing both of them, they are going to blame themselves and take forever to reconcile due to impressive emotional constipation on both ends. She’s surprised they even made it this far in the first place. Well. ‘Going to a Halloween party together’ this far. Not ‘about to have shameful and undoubtedly kinky sex on her couch’ this far. That was not a good far.

“Stop this!” she shouts, trying to haul Lexa off Clarke and helplessly watching as her arms pass right through her. “Lexa, you will regret this tomorrow, I’m telling you.”

Lexa growls. “I do not do regrets, little girl.”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve seen yourself last Christmas.” Raven huffs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Too bad you don’t remember any of it.”

That’s the icing on top of this pile of shit that’s trying to pass as cake. Neither Clarke nor Lexa remember who they actually are. They’ve gone full-on MIstresses of the night or whatever.

And they are about to make the biggest mistake of their lives.

“Lexa, do not... Where’s your hand? Lexa, where’s your damn hand?! Oh my god - don’t bite her! Clarke, don’t you bite her back!”

Where are the Blakes when you need them?

Right on cue, her living room window shatters because a body comes hurling right through it, rolling over on the floor and springing to feet faster than lightning. “Civilians!” the overly excited body shouts in a deep voice, clutching an assault rifle in a confident grip. “We gotta get them to safety!”

“They were safe before you went all Universal Soldier on them, you moron,” a grumpy voice replies before the owner climbs in as well, mindful of the glass. “Raven’s going to kill you.”

“Who’s Raven?”

“She’s standing right in front of you - man, this is some dope shit you’re on,” Octavia informs her brother. The Blakes stare at Raven, one mildly apologetic and another with a blank look on his face.

“Great. Bellamy doesn’t remember anything, either, does he,” Raven says. Octavia shakes her head and walks up to her to give her a quick hug. Of course, she fails miserably. Her blue eyes widen with shock.

“Wha - how?! What the fuck’s going on?”

“You tell me,” Raven mumbles, taking a step back because seeing Octavia’s hand inside her chest is more than a little disturbing. “Let me guess. Bellamy is a soldier for Halloween.”

“Yeah, only he took it to a whole new level,” the last part is sneered at the boy as Octavia scowls. “He broke your goddamn window. Did you see that?”

“Was kinda hard not to. Okay, I have this insane theory that doesn’t make sense, only it’s the only thing that does. So here goes. I’m pretty sure we became our costumes. Like, half an hour ago. Bell’s a soldier,” she nods at Octavia’s brother who stands, unmoving, in a dark-green tank-top and military pants. “I, the idiot I am, went as a ghost,” she waves a hand over herself. “And our resident power couple went as vampires.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, her eyes widen. “Oh shit. You’re - you guys are alive. Which means they can eat you.”

“Observant,” Clarke comments from the couch, her dress hiked up and half-unzipped, showing off stockings and pale shoulders. Damn, Lexa’s smooth. “I think I like this poor soul, may she never rest in peace.”

“That level of evil is completely unnecessary,” Raven mumbles.

Octavia whistles. “Her accent is actually really impressive.”

Raven doesn’t have time to think of a snappy reply, because Lexa chooses that moment to rise to her feet, eyes glinting with hunger and blood smeared over her neck and shirt. It’s not fake anymore. “Come, love,” she murmurs to Clarke, courteously extending her hand and helping her up. “Let’s feast. You will need all the strength for what I have planned for you tonight.”

“She’s talking about sex, right,” Octavia whispers to Raven.

“You don’t wanna know where Lexa’s hand was before you barged in. Also, I think you need to run. And fast.”

Lexa lets out a low, rumbling growl, her and Clarke slipping into their vampire faces. It’s downright terrifying - the way their foreheads grow bumps and their eyes burn a bright yellow, sharp teeth bared in a snarl. Octavia seems to think so, too, because she lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched shriek. Raven makes a mental note to tease her about it tomorrow.

GIven that they make it out of here alive.

“Out of the way, lady,” Bellamy roars, rushing forward and standing between them and the vampires, his rifle ready. “The no-shooting order is still in place?” he asks, his eyes trained on Clarke and Lexa who are slowly advancing on them, looking amused.

“Don’t shoot!” Raven panics. “You may not remember it, but they are your friends. Well. Kind of.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bellamy states. Right before Lexa takes him by his neck and throws him into a wall.

“Holy shit!” his sister yelps. “She just threw him into a wall!”

“I know, I was there,” Raven yells back before focusing her eyes on Lexa’s face. Lexa’s terrifying, deformed face. “Lexa,” she tries. “Please, please listen to me. We’re your friends. You lost your memory, but you have to know it somewhere. Me, O, Clarke, even Bellamy, we’re all friends, and if you kill one of them, you will never forgive yourself. Ever.”

Lexa scoffs. “I have no idea who any of you are,” she says. “But I do know what I am.” she throws a quick glance over her shoulder where Clarke is watching her, eyes hooded and smirk lazy. “I am starving.”

“Lexa, please, no!” Raven screams when the vampire lunges at Octavia who ducks and falls to the floor. She watches, helplessly, as she rolls over and tries to fight Lexa off, clutching something in her hand. “Wait, O, you can’t kill her, either!”

“Look!” Octavia cries, thrusting something at Lexa’s face who recoils, caught off-guard. “Look! We’re not lying, just look!”

In her grip, knuckles white from pressure, is a photograph Finn took of all of them last summer. They are at the beach, smiling into the camera - everyone except Lexa who’s looking at Clarke with a soft smile, an arm draped over her shoulder. It must have been knocked off the phone stand when Lexa pushed Clarke to the couch.

“I don’t understand,” Lexa blinks, all earlier aggression gone as she stares at the photo, confused. Clarke joins her, looking over her shoulder and frowning prettily at what she sees. “This is me. And you. With-” she looks up at Raven, flabbergasted. “With them.”

“Slayer!” someone yells outside, and everyone looks out the window where a mismatched mob walks through the street, smashing car windows and mailboxes on their way, lead by a blonde man in a black duster. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Clarke’s eyes narrow. “Is that William-”

Bellamy swiftly knocking both of them out with a butt of his rifle to the temple is completely out of blue and therefore absolutely in line with the night’s theme. Raven’s not even that surprised. “I don’t hit women,” he says. “But desperate times-”

“Yeah, whatever, Rambo,” she sighs. “Let’s get them tied up and hope duct tape holds up against vampire strength.”

“I really am sorry,” Lexa repeats, rubbing her temple. “I don’t actually want to kill your sister. Or throw you into walls.”

“Well,” Clarke speaks up. “Actually.” When everyone’s eyes fall on her, she shrugs. “What? Not all the time. Only when they bring that fine Blake assholery to the table.”

“That sounded wrong on so many levels,” Raven notes, bringing another bag of frozen peas and offering it to Lexa who takes it gratefully, pressing it to her head.

“I’m sorry too,” Bell says, gesturing at Lexa’s hand that holds the peas. “That was so bizarre. LIke being in a dream, while aware of being in a dream.”

“A nightmare, more like it,” Clarke corrects him. “Not that it’s very uncommon here.”

“Is it too late to switch schools?” Lexa asks.

“Afraid so.”

They woke up tied to a pole in Raven’s basement, with Raven and the Blake siblings watching them in tense silence. Clarke was ready to snarl and snap their necks when the same wave of dizzy nausea hit them, and everyone but Octavia doubled over, groaning in pain. When Clarke came to it a second time, Raven was fiercely hugging O and squeezing a dazed Bellamy’s hand who had a small toy rifle in his other one.

Lexa was even more dazed, blinking at her owlishly with hands tied behind her back. “There’s no way that actually happened.”

Except it did.

Now, they are sitting in Raven’s living room after helping her clean up. Bell got a tiny cut on his finger when picking up glass, and Clarke’s never been more relieved to feel sick when a tiny droplet of blood slid down his palm before he wiped it away.

Fucking Sunnydale.

“Well,” Bell clears his throat, standing up. Octavia joins him. “We better get going. The frat is most likely in ruins right now.” He grabs the last cookie from the plate on his way out. “See you guys later.”

“We should probably go back to the dorms, too,” Lexa says. “I really want to change out of this costume.”

“Agreed,” Clarke shudders. “Hey," she says, realizing something. "How come Octavia stayed herself?"

"Oh, that's because she's the only one out of all of us who got her costume at a different shop," Raven replies.

Clarke nods. "Well, Halloween might very well be ruined forever.”

“Yeah, right,” Raven snorts. “Say it to my face a year from now.”

They exchange hugs with her when they leave, and Clarke doesn’t quite catch the words Raven whispers to Lexa, but, judging by Lexa’s faint blush, it’s not something she wants to hear, anyway.

They walk down the street in tense silence, and Clarke’s never thought she’d say this, but Lexa’s presence is heavy and uncomfortable. Halfway through the walk, she has enough.

“Lexa-”

“Clarke-” Apparently, Lexa has the same idea. They look at each other, frozen, before laughing quietly, in unison.

“You go,” Lexa says when they calm down, and Clarke nods.

“Okay.” she takes a deep breath. “Okay.” and then she kisses her.

Lexa’s lips are soft and warm and don’t taste like blood at all. Clarke lets it ground her, lets out a soft sigh and leans even closer, looping her arms around her neck and smiling when she feels Lexa’s hands on the small of her back, tentative and gentle.

It’s bizarre. Kissing Lexa after kissing Lexa. Thinking of Lexa, a girl she met a year ago, and thinking of Lexa, her creation, her love, the one she’s lost over a century ago. Yearning for her - starving for her while being fully aware that the past she has in her head simply does not exist.

But at the same time, it’s the most intense feeling she’s ever experienced, and it might be terrible, but she kind of doesn’t want it to end just yet.

Will these memories ever fade? Will they clash with the life they used to have, or will they entwine each other until it’s all they know?

“Clarke.” Lexa’s lips are red and kiss-bruised. and her shuddering breath sends a shiver down Clarke’s spine, pleasant and sharp. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Lexa,” she says, but Lexa shakes her head, silencing her.

“No, I’m… This is confusing,” she starts quietly. “But - I’m sorry, my love,” gentle fingers under her chin, a thumb smoothing over her jaw. Clarke leans into it, heart bleeding all over. “For waiting so long to find you.”

“So you still remember, too,” Clarke exhales. Lexa watches tears slide down her cheek, slowly and silently, from blue eyes that sparkle with pain and relief.

Great. Not only were she and Lexa forced into a weird modern soulmate tale, her narrative might slip into an annoying flowery kind every now and then.

“Perhaps we’ll forget soon. Perhaps not.” Green eyes are earnest and soft. “Either way, I don’t think I care.”

And that - that’s all Clarke really needs to hear. A confirmation that Lexa’s not about to run off to deal with these overwhelming feelings on her own. A confirmation that Lexa will stay there.

“But you still have to buy me dinner first before putting your hands in… places,” she notes, enjoying Lexa’s blush.

Weird modern soulmate tale doesn’t sound so bad, anyway.

Not bad at all.

Somewhere in the quiet of the night, the wind picks up a faint sound of giggling, carrying it above two girls softly kissing under moonlight.

#clexa #femslash #wlw fic #halloween #spooktober femslash

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inquartata30 · 4 years

Text

WIP Whenever, Fluff Part 1

tagged by @sky-ham for some fluff for understandable reasons

tagging @natsora and @1esk19 for more fluff

this is from a one shot set in The Scenic Route’s timeline, the one where they’re in the Milky Way, everyone’s alive, and there are no Reapers.

Lexi answered almost immediately. “Did you and Aella enjoy your time at the park?”

Thaia narrowed her eyes. Going to the park had been a spontaneous thing because her lab time had been usurped by some other ‘more important’ project. Instead of bothering with battling over a stupid power move, she’d opted to take her kid to Guildhall Park for a pickup skyball game and whatever else they could find.

Unfortunately, ‘whatever else’ had turned out to be trouble, which wasn’t an unusual occurrence when Thaia and Aella went places without, as Sula called it, adult supervision. But wasn’t that Thaia didn’t want Lexi to know what they were up to. It was because Lexi had been in a practical and Thaia hadn’t wanted to disturb her unless there was some kind of incident that required her help. If not, Thaia would simply tell her the entire story when she got home. Or someone else would’ve told her before she even got home because Thaia and her family knew way too many people in this part of Armali.

Also, Aella had successfully scaled the monument to Matriarch Atapalai and her reward had been been them getting booted from the park and banned for the rest of the week and ‘maybe you should teach your child some decorum during that time.’

First of all, Thaia was pretty sure that the matriarch who’d had the tits to go out and find the first relay and then used the fucking thing within days because ‘fuck sitting around on my ass and being cautious like the rest of you’ would be completely fine with a kid climbing a statue dedicated to her. Cheer her on, even.

Second of all, Thaia had wanted to see if Aella could get all the way to the top because it was pretty fucking high up. Then Aella had reached the top and Thaia had been too busy being proud as fuck to chase her down before a cluster of matriarchs got their panties in a twist over it.

So, to help them feel better after getting unjustly banned from the park for a week, Thaia and Aella had gone to the hobby shop. And now they felt better.

“Yes,” Thaia said to Lexi. “We did.”

Aella tried cramming a foot under the box. She immediately winced and went another route, trotting over to one of the trees lining the walkway. Little purple flower petals drifted down around her when she bumped into the trunk instead of stopping of her own volition like a normal person. Then she grabbed a good-sized stick, held it aloft with the petals still swirling around her, and ran back.

Lexi sighed. “I suppose I should be grateful no one was hurt.”

“I don’t know, Matriarch Agera got all worked up about a scuff mark on the statue. Maybe someone should examine her for a heart condition.”

“That mark was there before!” said Aella, working the stick under the box for leverage.

“It was.” Thaia shrugged even though Lexi couldn’t see her. “Anyway, I called to see if Harry was visiting Thessia and I didn’t know or if Karin was coming over at any point today.”

“I don’t believe so. Do I want to know why?”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“Do I need to know why?”

“We’re fine, I promise. We just wanted to be sure. Okay, have a fun class, love you, bye!”

“Bye!” Aella echoed without interrupting her determined glare at the box.

Thaia ended the call before Lexi could interrogate either of them since Lexi had gotten even better at interrogation since she’d started her clinical psych program and she’d already been phenomenal before that. Plus, neither Thaia nor Aella could lie to save their lives.

Thaia turned to her daughter, who’d given up on the stick and was now using all of her might to drag the box.

Successfully. Shit, her kid was strong. Freakishly strong, according to Celaeno. However, it was slow going and Thaia was admittedly excited about putting the model together with Aella. Sooner rather than later. And she hadn’t bargained on her kid being this fucking stubborn and being able to move the box enough where they were actually making forward progress.

Incremental forward progress.

“You sure you don’t want help?” Thaia asked.

Aella stopped, put her hands on her hips, and glared up at Thaia. “I can get it!”

“Okay, okay.” Thaia held up her hands in surrender. “I won’t ask again.” She also had to hide a laugh because for all Aella shared a similar bone structure to Thaia, that fucking glare had been all Lexi. Seeing it on someone so small was funny as fuck.

The next twenty-seven minutes—Thaia kept track—were spent with Aella grumbling and grunting as she pushed and pulled the box along the strip of sidewalk leading from the Kepeia District to Palla Square. During that time, Thaia also drew several amused or annoyed looks from onlookers and, really, the annoyed ones could just fuck off. Obviously, they’d never had to deal with spectacularly stubborn child. In the the stone-paved area outside the complex’s entrance, the sharp scent of ozone hung in the air. Thaia couldn’t hear the snaps of biotics or shouting that accompanied playing, so practice must’ve been over for the day.

As Aella stopped to catch her breath and Thaia silently wished she’d just give up and let her carry the box, members of Armali’s team began exiting through the complex gates, some pausing to sign autographs for enthusiastic younger fans. From behind a couple clusters of sizable backfielders emerged a comparatively pint-sized player whom Thaia and Aella immediately recognized.

Fejla Na’vis, who’d been their reliable source of skyball tickets for almost seven years; who’d obtained a pass for Thaia to attend a one week long pro-level skyball camp a month before Aella was born; and who, along with Harry, was Lexi’s best friend of decades.

The only reason Thaia hadn’t known about Fej during the two years she was being a dumbass about Lexi was because Fej was a pro player for Armali Union, Thaia’s favorite skyball team ever, and Lexi had—rightly—suspected that Thaia would react with an undue amount of enthusiasm should she ever meet Fej.

She had. But during the months before Aella had been born and especially after their unintentionally galaxy-spanning misadventure shared with Nef, a black-market body part, and a stack of ancient krogan data-readers, they’d become excellent friends. And Thaia had mostly stopped being a completely over-enthusiastic fan.

With the exception of playoffs.

“Auntie Fej!” Aella dropped the box and sprinted toward Fej, practically slamming into her for a hug and almost smashing Fej’s nose with her forehead in the process. Luckily, Fej was able to dodge the head blow.

Shit, if Aella’s forehead was a threat to Fej’s nose, that meant she was already catching up to Fej in height. Thaia did her best not to laugh. It wasn’t fair that Aella was on the ridiculously tall side for an asari six-year-old and Fej was on the decidedly small size for an asari adult. Given another couple years, Aella would probably be able to look her in the eye.

“What’ve you got there?” Fej asked, pointing at the box after Aella let go.

“We got a model relay!” Aella ran back to the box and demonstrated her dragging technique. “Look, I can carry it by myself!”

After observing Aella move the box a whole-ass third of a meter in five minutes, Fej placed her duffel bag on the grass and smiled. “Wow, it’s almost as big as me! I bet you’re excited to get it home. Do you want some help carrying it? I’m going in the same direction for a bit, so I don’t mind.”

Thaia waited for the ‘determined Lexi glare’ to appear on Aella’s face like it had when she’d offered to help.

It fucking didn’t. Instead, Aella grinned and said, “Yes, please!”

“What the fuck,” Thaia said, mostly under her breath.

When Fej stood next to her, Aella looked between her and the box and back again. Then she scratched her chin and did it again. After a third time, she said to Fej, “I bet I can pick you up.”

Fej opened her mouth, closed it, and then after thinking it over for a moment, shrugged. “You know what? Give it a try.”

Aella immediately crouched and grabbed Fej around the knees.

Fuck, she’d figured out the best method to pick up someone bigger than her. She might actually do it. Thaia hurriedly activated her omni. This needed to be recorded for posterity.

After setting her feet, Aella lifted with all her tiny might. Face flushed a darker blue and her legs trembling with the effort, Aella got Fej a good ten or so centimeters off the pavement before she lost her balance and fell backwards. Fej, possessing the body awareness and quick reflexes of a pro ballplayer, flipped in the air and landed on her feet while catching Aella with biotics the same time.

“I did it!” Aella announced, triumphantly raising her arms in the air.

The startlingly large audience they’d collected during Aella and Fej’s stunt gave the two a round of applause. Thaia had the best fucking kid.

“That was hard,” said Aella, shaking out her arms. “I don’t think I can carry the box the rest of the way home.”

Fej gave the top of Aella’s crest a fond rub. “I’ll still help you.”

“Good, because Daddy didn’t help me on our way here.”

Okay, maybe not the best kid.

“The fuck,” Thaia said, loud enough for the others to hear.

#mass effect #fanfiction #fluff request WIP #tessera au #tessera: the fluffiest timeline

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sepublic · 4 years

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One of the weird things about WiLW is that, despite everyone canceling Boscha and declaring Boschlow dead (even as a crackship), it kinda makes the best case so far for why it could be made to work. If that makes sense? Like it was my nOTP before, but I saw how both of their biggest flaws is the other's greatest strength. And a fiery odd-couple opposites-attract pair would be a good foil to the sweet pining soulmates that are Lumity. Their history gets in the way, but not insurmountably so.

Now, this is an idea I hesitantly consider and tread upon, for obvious reasons… Boschlow was a fun crack ship back during the mid-season hiatus, as the only thing we saw Boscha do to Willow was mockingly call her out for not being invited to the Moonlight Conjuring, and that was about it. But then Understanding Willow revealed that Boscha had in fact been bullying Willow for quite a while, and clearly it left QUITE some damage on Willow’s psyche… And while Boscha’s bullying in WilW was implied to be more intense than her usual torment, that doesn’t change the fact that she literally dumped garbage on Willow! I’m not opposed to seeing the two reconcile… But clearly, Boscha owes all of the apologies here, and has a lot to make up for, and Willow would be justified in not wanting to ever contact the girl, ever again.

Honestly, I don’t necessarily see Willow and Boscha as two sides of the same coin, like I do for Luz and Amity… The two of them are mostly just foils and contrasts to one another. Though, I AM always eager to hear others’ takes on the two, and how one might interpret Willow and Boscha as such! At the very least, I think Willow and Boscha, initially, had an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ principle to how they dealt with things that troubled them, to varying degrees… There’s Willow not wanting to dwell on her bad memories with Amity, which she does in a healthier sense than Boscha- Who will sometimes dismiss her issues about something, because the thing in question is actually just dumb and doesn’t matter anyway!

But as we can see… Boscha doesn’t always entirely ignore things, either- She’ll dredge up drama and go out of her way to antagonize others like Willow, instead of simply ignoring her feelings on the matter and letting it be done! She’ll LET her displeasure be known, and while it’s good for Boscha to sometimes acknowledge her unhappiness, she unfortunately proceeds to deal with it in a less than constructive manner… I feel like an actually healthy relationship/dynamic between the two would also require Boscha to tone herself down quite a bit, even if she can still maintain that sense of fiery competitiveness and boldness that she’s always had.

Likewise, while I think Willow has EVERYTHING to give and provide to Boscha, more on that later… I’m not sure there’s really anything meaningful that Boscha could give her, that others don’t already do and better? Boscha’s strength is artificial and toxic to herself and others. Superficially it might make Willow feel better initially, but in the long run Boscha’s ideals are harmful. Especially if she tries to imply to Willow that she’s ‘worthy’ specifically because of her prowess with Plant magic, and not regardless of it. But, I am liable to others’ takes and interpretations on the two!

Personally, my read on Boscha is that she’s afraid. She doesn’t want to be a ‘loser’, she’s afraid of the potential loneliness and emotional turmoil that may come from that, and she thinks that losers ‘deserve’ their own pain, no less… So Boscha is actively trying to compensate for who she is, so she can ‘prove’ herself as better than that, both to her own personal concepts, and maybe to someone else…

She also seems fixated on pain, in a sense- Her own, and causing retribution towards those who ‘hurt’ Boscha. There’s a quiet moment where Boscha is impressed by how mature Luz is, for taking all of the blame… And she briefly seems to reevaluate her stance on Luz, before stubbornly sticking to her previous dislike. It’s like Boscha felt actual sympathy for Luz in that moment, but then closed off any room for reconsidering who Luz was and respecting her. She doesn’t want to change her mind on ‘losers’ like Luz, because surely there was a good reason for hating and bullying people like that…

Boscha doesn’t want to reconsider her stance on Luz, not let the girl get into her head and ‘infect’ her with weakness. She’s lowkey afraid of the kind of people that Luz and Willow are, or what she sees them as; And it’s why she’s so vehemently livid towards ‘losers’ like those two! And, I think Willow could be interesting for Boscha, because Willow was obviously who Boscha hated the most, or at least much longer, compared to others. She singled out Willow, almost like she was projecting her own insecurities onto the girl, that hurting Willow would be like gaining retribution upon the insecurities and flaws that Boscha saw in herself, and the girl.

Going back to what I said about Boscha focusing on retribution, how she doesn’t seem willing to repair and heal over mistakes together, and would rather punish… I think Willow is someone who can teach Boscha how to forgive, withoutforgetting. And let’s be real here, can it even be said if Willow and Luz ACTUALLY hurt Boscha in a serious sense, and/or their actions weren’t justified, plus completely innocent? Not to mention, Boscha is ignoring that all of those other students chose to prioritize attention to Willow over Boscha? Aside from Boscha recognizing that a lot of her own pain came from herself and her own exaggerated reactions to Luz and Willow’s innocent actions…

We saw how Willow dealt with pain, regarding Amity. I feel like she’s someone who can show Boscha how to deal with that sort of thing, how one can actually be mindful of the circumstances of what happened, and really take that into account, while considering one’s feelings and the source of those emotions. Clearly the situation was different, as Willow did nothing to deserve Amity’s rejection, while Boscha MORE than earned some negative karma on her own end… But you get the idea.

Boscha needs to actually get over her apprehensions about ‘losers’ like Luz and Willow, before she can truly heal… Instead of just ignoring those feelings first and getting along, because that kind of friendship would then be superficial. Boscha changing her apprehensive stance on someone like Willow, especially, is important- Because to Boscha, Willow is emblematic and definitive of the kind of person she doesn’t want to be… Or at least, she’s the one closest to that definition, that Boscha can actively get away with tormenting.

Changing her stance on Willow would show so much, how Boscha has learned to improve and open her mind to other people and their ways of living and existing, and feeling. Perhaps it would be THE final step/accomplishment, the ultimate proof of Boscha having changed… Not making the same mistakes, when presented the chance to. Willow is someone who can show Boscha that the kind of person that she doesn’t want to be… ISN’T so bad after all, that there’s nothing to be afraid of, you aren’t necessarily going to become that kind of person by being with them- And even if you do, it’s not so bad! It’d be incredibly relieving to Boscha, and I can see her being grateful to Willow…

Likewise, I can see her admiring Willow- Boscha can now appreciate just how strong and vigilant Willow really is, and how inspiring the Park girl is to her. Willow proves to Boscha that the kind of person she is, isn’t just someone to accept- It’s the kind of person to learn and take cues from, to strive to be like! Boscha is going to be amazed at how strong Willow was, withstanding all those years of abuse when Boscha herself likely couldn’t even IMAGINE handling that… She’s going to show Boscha that there’s more than one way to be strong, and arguably, Willow’s way is better. Willow can show Boscha that you can be soft and open with others, while being even stronger and more resilient to pain, than the kind of person Boscha was…

And, it can show Boscha how to truly defend herself. How to be strong in a way that REALLY matters, and then Boscha can feel safe in a real sense, VS barricading herself past several walls she’s built up, but otherwise never overcoming her fear and adversity. Really, I think Willow has WAY more to teach Boscha, rather than the other way around… While I’m all for people mutually teaching one another different things, it’s worth noting that Boscha was entirely in the wrong for bullying Willow, and that Willow was certainly not ‘guilty’ of anything that warranted this kind of torment whatsoever.

Willow has definitely ‘outgrown’ Boscha and her destructive fire. And, considering what Boscha did to her… Like I said, Willow has a lot to offer Boscha. But Boscha isn’t owed that, Boscha has had an issue with thinking she’s owed reverence and glory for being ‘strong’, for having suffered and endured and used that pain to forge herself into a ‘superior’ kind of person… But in the end, Boscha needs to not be entitled, and realize that she’s no better nor worse than anyone else. And she can’t work to change this fact, either- It’s just how it is!

Willow doesn’t owe Boscha anything. She’s not the girl’s caretaker, she’s not her savior unless Willow wants to be… Which leads me to the idea that to start, Boscha needs to just let Willow exist. She needs to be mindful of Willow’s existence, give the girl room to flourish and grow… And Boscha needs to apologize, with no expectations attached. Only by healing their relationship, and getting it to a point where Boscha won’t hurt Willow, nor does she expect anything from Willow because of this… Only then can Willow feel safe about teaching Boscha a thing or two on how to live, and even so, that’s entirely her choice. Boscha needs to prove that she’ll respect whatever decision Willow makes, even if it prioritizes Willow and/or others over Boscha herself. It’s not some personal insult towards Boscha, people have their own lives that don’t revolve around her, and they don’t owe the girl anything for being ‘better’ than them, not that Boscha actually is to begin with!

This is, of course, all speculation- Most of which hinges entirely on my specific read and interpretation of Boscha and her character. Honestly, this could prove very wrong if we learn more about Boscha’s character, and I’d have to reevaluate how a relationship between her and Willow would work. But first and foremost, Boscha needs to respect Willow as her own person, and not just a potential girlfriend, nor as someone she should idolize, either… Willow doesn’t have to be ‘cool’ in Boscha’s eyes to gain her respect. And similarly, I can see Boscha getting close with Willow, but then trying to play up how cool she is to others, and maybe how cool Willow is… Because she wants to justify being with a ‘loser’ like Willow.

And Willow will rightfully take offense at that. She’s going to tell Boscha to stop trying to act like Willow herself is so ‘lowly’ that Boscha needs to socially compensate for being friends with her. Willow herself, on her own, is perfect as-is, and Boscha doesn’t have to act like she isn’t- She needs to stop caring about appearances or the opinions and reverence of others, so much! Boscha needs to value her own opinion of herself, her own self-worth, without making it dependent on whether or not others fear/adulate her.

It’s kind of like Amity or Lilith, in a sense- Where Boscha doesn’t believe in her own evaluation of herself nor trust it… So she looks to others as a judge, as a litmus test to decide if she’s ‘worthy’ or lovable and whatnot. Boscha looks to how others reverentially regard her in order to decide if she’s good enough, instead of just looking at the mirror and deciding that if Boscha is happy- Then she IS good enough! All that should be required is for Boscha to be happy and content with herself. Her own opinion of herself DOES have value, believe it or not… And that’s something Willow herself learned, too, though unlike Boscha she didn’t try to cope with feeling ‘unworthy’, by hurting others- Instead Willow just ‘accepted’ this alleged lowliness of herself before Luz pointed out otherwise, that Willow was never unworthy to begin with!

So, yeah- Boscha needs to stop being afraid of the kind of person that Willow is. She needs to see that people like Willow and Luz are perfectly valid as-is, that there is no hierarchy where a certain type of person is better or worse than others. Boscha needs to trust in her own opinion and self-confidence in herself, and not be so reliant on what others have to say. She needs to stop being entitled to power and adulation, even if Boscha went through the effort to ‘earn’ it… Because nobody agreed to compensate Boscha in the first place. It’s like working so hard to give someone gifts without them even asking, and then expecting to be rewarded. Boscha needs to be mindful of others and their existence, and see it as not that bad anway… And that it’s okay to be like others. Boscha can still hold onto her own identity, and remember her own feelings while still working past them.

Honestly, this could be but the tip of the iceberg, regarding the many issues that Boscha has, and how Willow could help her. On the flipside, I can see Boscha being the kind of person to mercilessly give Willow encouragement… And tell Willow that yes, Willow IS strong, and she did earn the right to be beloved by others! But again, this ties back into the idea of love being conditional, which seems contradictory to what this show has to say. Like I said, Willow has so much more to teach Boscha, and it’s up to her to decide if she wants to- And even so, Boscha needs to recognize that her existence isn’t exactly reliant on whatever decision that Willow makes, either.

Really, I’m not at all against seeing Boscha’s character be explored and given depth, maybe even reformed for her own sake? I guess I’m a forgive and forget type of guy. I’m willing to forgive Lilith, who cursed her own sister, and was also Head Witch of the Emperor’s Coven- So she hurt a lot of other people BESIDES Eda, and that’s something Lilith herself and some people in the fandom need to recognize more. And I feel like government persecution is worse than bullying, not to say the latter isn’t bad either- If anything, bullying already being bad, as-is, just says a lot more about how terrible persecution is by being worse!

And me, I’m willing to consider motives and introspection for freaking Belos, who committed genocide upon wild witches just for existing, and set up the toxic coven system and environment that contributed to Boscha’s own toxicity in the first place. I guess for some, Boscha’s bullying hits closer to home than Belos’ persecution of people, hence why they’re justifiably angrier at her particularly. Those feelings are absolutely valid… Unfortunately, recent events have led to government persecution becoming a lot more relatable as well. Which, gets me to my point that if I can consider Belos’ side of the story, I can at least do the same for Boscha. Not to mention, it’s worth noting that Lilith and Belos are fully-grown adults, but Boscha is still a kid- So she’s got room to improve and change people, let’s remember that amidst still holding her accountable!

#the owl house #owl house #boschlow #the owl house boscha #the owl house willow #willow park #character analysis #speculation #ask

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maskedantihero · 3 years

Text

You’re A Slytherin, Harry

Professor McGonagall keeps eyeing Draco who has already becoming a lifeless doll closely before she continues, “Since you were impatient, Mr Malfoy, I take it as you’re ready for my class?”

Draco stiffly answers with his eyes – which Harry has no inkling of how he manages to do so – before Professor McGonagall turns around and moves to the front of the class once again. “Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” she says as she makes her way. “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not comeback.”

The stillness of the class doubles once Professor McGonagall stands behind her table. And since all attention is on the professor, Harry can finally see her in her true form: Professor McGonagall is a severe-looking woman in her 50s, with square glasses the shape of the markings around cat’s eyes (though it doesn’t help decrease the fear factor on her face), and a neat black hair bun that causes her face to be pulled backward, adding more the severe-ness of her look.

Despite Harry doesn’t mind getting into trouble every now and then, he strongly rejects the idea of stepping on Professor McGonagall’s shoes.

She stares at her first-year students without expression. “You have been warned,” she says coldly to the class.

Then, as if this is her trick on every first-year Transfiguration class, she changes her desk into a pig and back again in a blink of an eye. And just like every other first-year before Harry, everyone seems in awe by the simple transfiguration and can’t wait to get the lesson started – which only to be let down hard once they’ve realised that particular transfiguration is not part of their lesson just yet. All they will be doing for the time being is jotting down complicated notes, much to their disappointment, but they dare not complain. Not to her at least.

However, the boring lesson takes an interesting turn when Professor McGonagall begins handing out matches to her students. “Each of you is given a match,” she says after every student has gotten a match in his and her hand, “You shall now turn the wooden match into a needle before the class ends. You shall begin.” And on that queue, the graveyard classroom becomes chaotic with all the students reciting the same spell on different tones and volumes (a Hufflepuff student thought by screaming the spell on top of his lungs would make the spell more effective, only to earn a good scolding from Professor McGonagall).

“Alright,” Harry breaks his silence after all this while, “Let’s focus now.”

Draco glances at Harry with furrowed face. He likes to see the outcome of Harry’s attempt before he makes his own – for safety purposes, he likes to believe himself.

“You remember this, Harry. Your old man has taught you this. You know it all too well. You just need to practice it now,” Harry tries to psyche himself as he readies his wand in his hand while his eyes firmly planted on the match stick before him. Draco watches from his seat silently.

Once he feels much confident, he starts chanting the spell properly, down to the right intonation, and flicks his wand to the wooden match. And to both Harry’s and Draco’s surprise, the brown match stick gradually but steadily turns itself into a silver, pointy needle right before their eyes.

Draco can’t help himself but to utter “Wicked” involuntarily but loudly, loud enough to catch the attention of Professor McGonagall who has been eyeing her students like a hawk.

“Attention, class! It seems Mr Potter has succeed in turning his match into a needle. 10 points for Slytherin,” she calmly claims, but this time with a sincere warm smile given to Harry solely. Harry smiles back, feeling contented himself for his achievement.

Suddenly, Harry remembers the words his father had told him the night before his departure to Hogwarts. “And there’s Professor McGonagall. A good teacher, but a nasty one if you step on her wrong foot,” James explained to Harry, “Hard to impress, especially in your first year. So, don’t need to pressure yourself when it comes to her. All I could do to grab her attention in my first year was hiding Mrs Norris in the girl’s toilet.”

In your face, old man, Harry proudly mocks James Potter in his head. A soft, smug smile dons on his lips.

#hp au fic #hp fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #hp fanfic #slytherin!harry #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts au #harry x ginny #ginny weasley #draco malfoy #draco x hermione #ravenclaw!hermione #hufflepuff!ron #james x lily #james potter #lily potter #you're a slytherin harry #yash

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Text

Third Time’s The Charm (Indruck)

Prompt for the 10th was: stiches

“I ain’t sure what you thought was gonna happen. That canopy is fuckin dense.”

“In my, ouch, defense I, ow, only crash landed in one percent of futures, OW!” Indrid cuts off into chitters of pain as Duck continues stitching up his shoulder near his wing.”

You know, Duck had been hoping someone from home would visit him out here in Brazil. He just wasn't expecting the mothman to be the first one to show up.

And he really wasn’t expecting him to crash to the ground near Ducks small cabin that he stays in when not in the field. In spite of his wing clearly bleeding, he’d told Duck to hurry into town to head off yet another fire. When Duck came back two hours later to find Indrid trying to stitch up his wing using the bathroom mirror and a very odd contortion, he ordered him to sit down on the closed toilet seat so he could do the damn thing right.

He’s halfway through now, Indrid’s feathers making things tricky. The Sylph staying in this form until it was over, since his pain tolerance is higher when he’s not human.

“Thank you for not insisting on taking me to a hospital.”

“The closest one is an hour away and I don’t know enough Portuguese to explain the mothman to a doctor.” Duck adjusts his stance slightly so he’s not blocking the light he needs to work, “gotta say, for all your chirpin, you’re doin pretty damn well.”

“As you pointed out, one cannot go as ‘mothman’ to a hospital. And after documentation became more common, it became harder to produce identifying documents that wouldn’t raise too many questions. One gets used to home surgery and unpleasant infections.”

Duck raises an eyebrow, concerned by the last part of that sentence.

“Do not worry, Duck Newton, I know enough healing spells that it has never become an issue.”

“I mean, that’s good to know but Indrid, that ain’t no way to live.”

“Perhaps not. But it was often the price of helping prevent disaster. Or trying to.”

“You helped us a hell of a lot in Kepler.”

The Sylph hums in acknowledgement, hisses as Duck pulls the last stitch through. He stays quiet as Duck bandages him. Awkward silence is broken only by insects and the occasional bird, and a question taps at the back of Duck’s skull.

“I, uh, I thought you were goin back to Sylvain. Handin the job off to Leo and all that.”

“I considered that, and Leo is welcome to use his foresight as he pleases. But as I told you on our first meeting, I fell in love with earth. I have been away from Sylvain for a long time. I searched for a solution to her decline for a century. You and the others solved it in one-hundredth of that time. So it is not as if the kingdom will welcome me back as a hero. And I do not want my old position back. No, Duck Newton, if I am going to be a failure, have my warnings ignored, I may as well do so on the planet I like better.”

“Now, hold on-” Duck wants to argue, but Indrid swivels his head, red eyes as disconcerting as they were when they met. He looks very sure of his conclusion. More than that, he looks tired.

“Your question had a dual purpose, so I will answer what was implicit; you want to know why I’m here and not somewhere else.”

“I, uh, I mean yeah, but I ain’t-”

“-trying to be rude, nono, I do not doubt that. I came to you because the fire I foresaw would be as bad, if not worse, as the one you are helping undo the damage from. And it is easier to stop disaster when I don’t have to waste time making someone believe I can really see the future.” He stands, taking up half the bathroom, “thank you for your help. I will put on my glasses and be on my way. Can I trouble you for a ride into town?”

“No, I mean yeah, but jesus christ Indrid, you crashed. I just finished stitching you up! You oughta rest up some.’

Indrid cocks his head, “Yes, hence the trip into town. I can rest there until my wing is healed.”

“You got no one to tend those stitches, and I got a couch that ain’t bein used.”

“But you do not want me here.” He barely sounds hurt, just resigned, and somehow that makes Duck feel worse than if the Sylph was crying.

And a little annoyed.

“Did I say that?”

“No. But we were hardly close friends, and what is more you have spent a great deal of your life with aliens popping into your space unannounced. Where is she, by the by? I thought she was coming with you.”

Duck sticks his hands into his pockets, staring down as he shrugs, “forestry ain’t exactly her area of interest. And, uh, once the trauma-bondin’ wore off, think we both needed some time to sort some things out.”

Indrid stares blankly at him a moment, and then he chirrs, “You’re lonely.”

“Hey I, I’m uh, I- how the fuck did you know that?”

“You said so in some futures.”

“Are there futures where you accept my offer and get your fuzzy ass on the couch before you pass out?” Duck doesn’t mean to sound grumpy, but Indrid just bumped into two sore spots in Duck’s psyche.

Oddly, Indrid snickers, “I forgot how stubborn you can be. Very well, I accept your offer of the couch.”

By the time Duck gets back with a spare pillow, the Sylph is asleep, chirping peacefully.

------------------------------------------------

“What are you doing?”

“GAHfuck”

“Apologies.” Indrid only looks partially sorry, his human grin wide when Duck glares at him.

“That some sort of Sylph silence spell?”

“No, just years of practice trying not to be heard in the halls when I was seer.”

Last Duck saw him, he was still asleep on the couch, mumbling and chirring in pain when Duck changed the bandage. Duck would like to say that’s all he remembers, except there was a moment after he finished and Indrid’s eyes fluttered open as he sighed out a “thank you.” And that sight, the way Indrid looked in the morning light, safe and trusting, had tugged at his heart.

“May I keep you company? I am not in much of a state to do much else, even watch futures. Hitting my head tends to do that.”

“Uh, sure. I’m on my own for the mornin, not sure how excitin it will be.”

“I wish to know everything.”

Duck’s about to make a crack about being careful what you wish for when he gets a good look at Indrid’s face. The Sylph is grinning eagerly and is even flapping his hands a bit as he speaks.

“I want to see what you see in this jungle.”

So Duck shows him, everything from the saplings they’ve chosen to the creatures darting in and out of view. Indrid asks questions and makes excited noises, but mostly he listens, lets Duck talk or not as it pleases him. They’ve been in a stretch of silence when Duck turns and guffaws.

Indrid, sitting on a log, is covered in butterflies, some as big as Duck’s hand and in all colors of the rainbow.

“Guess they know a relative when they see one.”

The Sylph beams, “I was wondering how long it would be before you noticed.”

“Wait, did you summon them?”

“No, they just sort of...do this. It may be for moth reasons, or perhaps I have eaten so much sugar they smell it in my pores. I was, however, hoping they would join me, because I foresaw it making you happy.”

That same affection sparks in Duck’s chest.

“Alright, you heard enough from me today. Now I wanna know all about what you been doin since the world didn’t end.”

Indrid tells him about his attempts to stay in Kepler, his promise to Stern to not get photographed too much, his relentless teasing of Barclay for falling in love with the agent. His travels to other states to stop disasters, newly energized in his successes in Kepler.

“If you can call them that,”

“I’d say you can.”

Indrid holds out his hand, studying the speckled butterfly perched on it, “You renewed so much of my belief that things could change. At the cottonwood, when you promised me you’d find a way to stop what was coming, stop the sinkhole I...it meant a great deal. Even if your method of freeing me was rather, ah, abrupt.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “Yep, not my best plan, but it worked.”

“The bruise only lasted nine days, it was worth it in the end.”

Duck shoots him a playfully hurt smile, “Hey, don’t make me feel bad, I apologized.”

Indrid raises an eyebrow.

“Oh fuck” Duck tugs his hat down over his eyes, “I didn’t, I never fuckin apologized for punchin you.”

“In your defense, there were more pressing matters.” There it is again, that resignation. Duck wants to yank it out of Indrid’s tone and stomp it to bits. Instead, he steps forward, rests a hand on each of Indrid’s biceps.

“Indrid, I’m so fuckin sorry. Even if it helped save you, I’m sorry you got hurt again and it was me that did it.”

“I…” Indrid closes his mouth, opens it again, repeats that motion before managing, “I did not see that reply coming.” He smiles a new smile, small and secretive, as if he’s been given something precious, “thank you for saying that, Duck.”

-----------------------------------------------------

“I see why they call it a rainforest.” Indrid stares out the window as drops batter it.

“Yep.” Duck zips up his raincoat, smirking at the bundled up silver haired man, “guessin you ain’t joinin me?”

“I do not enjoy wet weather. Though if you want company I can oh, no, never mind.”

Duck’s radio crackles, and a quick conversation informs him that the conditions at the current reforestation site are too swamped to get anything done.

“Guess I got the day off. Uh, what do you wanna do?”

“I planned to draw and track futures, but I foresee you offering to teach me a card game, and I prefer that future.”

They end up on the floor by the couch, since Indrid seldom sits in chairs in a normal way anyway, mug of coffee in front of Duck and tea with half the sugar jar in front of Indrid. Duck teaches him several games, and as they play Indrid gets going on a tangent about his stint as a cardshark in Las Vegas, and the years he relied on hitchhiking to get around. Duck tells him about growing up in Kepler, about all the years between turning eighteen and now, the ones that plenty of people in his life treated as irrelevant to his life story.

They end up playing and talking until nightfall. Duck knows he should head to bed, that he has work tomorrow, but he doesn’t want to stop hearing Indrid’s laugh or seeing him scribble down futures.

He misses him when he goes to sleep.

Around eleven, his body makes an executive decision and he nods off leaning against the couch. He wakes up a few hours later to fluff on his cheek and comforting weight across his chest. Opening his eyes, he finds his head is in Indrid’s lap and a large black wing blankets him.

Even in his sleep, Indrid is terrifying in this form. At least, that's the argument his brain makes; Indrid is huge and alien, dangerous when he wants to be.

His heart disagrees. There’s nothing to be scared of. Indrid is his friend, wants nothing from him other than to get to know him. He’s soft, that helps, and clearly thinks of Duck as someone worth protecting. The sleep chirping is pretty fucking cute, too.

Red eyes open, two nightlights in the dark cabin. Indrid’s antenna are twitching and he’s clicking the claws of his upper hands together.

“Apologies, you sort of nodded off while we were talking and I caught you when you tipped over. I felt odd carrying you to bed, and this form seemed better to lay on, and then you started shivering so I put my wing-oh.”

Duck rolls over so he’s on his side, facing Indrid’s fuzzy abdomen, “Not complainin’, ‘Drid. Just adjustin’.”

He shuts his eyes, and for a moment clawtips trace his hair.

“Goodnight, Duck.”

----------------------------------------------

He’s been living with Duck for three months now. Far too long to count as “recovery” and thoroughly pushing the definition of “vacation.” Indrid doesn’t want to go. And Duck doesn’t want him to either, if his actions are any indication. He’s fixed up the one spare room to be a guest room, includes Indrid in planning out the week, including planning a few day trips on the days he isn’t working. It's as if he wants Indrid around.

(It’s as if he wants a future with him).

Indrid can no longer attribute it solely to loneliness. Yes, Duck misses his friends and family, but he clearly gets along with his fellow rangers and the other staff on the project, and in that very Duck way of his has become a regular at places in the nearby town, having enough Portuguese to ask the woman who runs the cafe about her grandkids or the mail carrier how his garden is doing.

Which means he’s keeping Indrid around out of pity, charity, or genuine affection. That the last option even exists makes Indrid want to take to the sky in celebratory flight.

He’s been alive a long time. He knows what a crush feels like, and he knows that's what he feels for Duck. He also feels it deepening into something else, and if he could be sure the ranger felt the same he’d tell him in an instant.

His crush is not helped by the fact that Duck asked if he wanted to go for a weekend in Porto Velho and how they’re here, on their second night, at a spot that's a little fancier than Indrid is used to, with Duck looking extra-handsome across from him.

Come to think of it, Duck’s looked rather more put-together all weekend, even when they were in parks rather than museums (at the former he’d laughed when Indrid was alarmed by the far too big fish, and at the latter he seemed like he was actually listening when Indrid talked about art).

Duck keeps fidgeting during dinner, and Indrid suddenly understands; this is a farewell weekend. He’s going to ask Indrid to leave, is trying to soften the blow.

When Indrid declines dessert, the ranger actually frowns with worry, covers it by jokingly asking if Indrid is sick. By the time they get back to the hotel, Indrid is so nervous he can't get the timelines to cooperate in his mind, and so he decides to be proactive.

Duck doesn’t turn the lights on, inclining his head towards the balcony. Indrid follows him out into the night air, the city bathing them in light from below and the moonlight cascading down to meet it. Indrid leans on the railing looking out. Duck leans next to him, so close Indrid can count the laugh lines on his face.

“This has been a wonderful trip, thank you for bringing me.”

“Yeah?” Duck’s face brightens, borders on excitement as he turns his body slightly towards Indrid, “I’m glad to hear that. I, uh, worked real hard on plannin it for us.”

Indrid nods, glances back out towards the cit, “I will be out of your hair as soon as we get back ho-, to, ah, to the cabin.”

Duck’s entire frame crumples inwards, “Oh, uh...okay. Yeah. If that's what you need to do, uh, you, uh, you do it.”

Indrid cups his cheek, forcing his fingers to stay still, “Thank you for letting me stay. And for planning me such a lovely send off.”

“Indrid, how could I plan for somethin I didn’t think was happenin?”

“Ah, um, I simply assumed-”

“‘Drid” Duck steps closer, “do you think I want you gone?”

No point in lying now, not when Duck is always so truthful.

“Yes.”

“Did I do somethin? Is this too much? Fuck, it is, ain’t it, I knew the whole romantic dinner for two thing was gonna be too far.”

Indrid has been alive a long time. The fact he can still be this oblivious is remarkable to him.

“‘Drid, I’m so fuckin sorry, I uh, I thought-” He gasps when Indrid guides his face up for a kiss, and he’s so warm and comforting and there and he’s kissing Indrid bck, kissing him like it’s all he remembers how to do

When they break the kiss Indrid grins, “You thought right, Duck.”

“Oh thank fuckin god.”

With that Duck pounces, hooking his hands under Indrid’s thighs and lifting him up, kissing him over and over on their somewhat precarious trip to the bed.

Indridi has had plenty of sleepless nights. This turns out to be the first time he enjoys one.

And several months later, when Duck returns to Kepler for the screening of a very special episode of Saturday Night Dead, Indrid steps off the plane with him, grinning in the West Virginia Sun.

#indrid cold/duck newton #indruck #TAZ Amnesty #promptober

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goddessofthundathighs · 4 years

Text

X. REVELATION

Word Count: 2.9K

*taps mic* Is this thing on? Aight, I know I said that I’d update CS every 3-5 business months, but life happened for both me & @hearteyes-for-killmonger. Let me just tell y’all how many times I wanted to completely scrap this book, simply because for a second, I fell out of love with it. I also thought that you guys were no longer interested. For our loyal readers, thank you for sticking with us! This chapter is fairly short, but MAJOR progression is made!

It’s also late, so this is un-beta’d. Any errors will be corrected in the morning.

************

Skylar’s face turned up in a wide grin as O’Shea came downstairs with her latest flower arrangement. If Oya wasn’t good at anything else, she was a professional at wooing her. The bright yellow of the freshly picked sunflowers was a beautiful contrast to the deep red hue of the roses. She’d forgotten that she’d mentioned that they were her favorites.

“With love, from Bae,” O’Shea read teasingly, only making the smile on Skylar’s face stretch wider. “And again I ask, why aren’t the two of you officially a thing? The mutual attraction is obvious and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this wide. Like you’re really flashing all 32 right now,” she asked, placing the vase on the corner of Sky’s desk.

“Because it’s not that easy, Shea. I have walls that need to be broken down and we both have issues that we need to work through. This is why SPT is so important. I have to understand exactly who I’m dealing with before we take things to the next level.”

O’Shea nodded. She hadn’t really thought about their situation like that. She’d just assumed that Sky was still working through ridding herself of Monica and was afraid of being heartbroken again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask about that. So is she Erik’s client now?”

“Yes. He’ll be her official therapist and draw up our plan of action as far as treatment.”

“Why does she feel like she needs treatment? She doesn’t seem to struggle sexually.”

“Looks can be deceiving, Shea. Behavior is also an indication that there may be underlying issues. Most of the clients that Erik and I treat are fully functioning. Look at you, for example.” Shea pulls a face. It was entirely too early in the workday for Skylar to be coming for her edges. She hadn’t even finished her acai breakfast bowl. “Aye, we not talking about me,” she fussed, placing her hands on her hips.

“But you fit the example. Personally, I think her excessive need to be sexual is a cover for something deeper, I just have to get her to tell me what it is.”

Sky couldn’t deny the soft spot she had for Oya. Even if things didn’t work out on the personal side of their relationship, she still cared for her and wanted to ensure she received the best treatment. Regardless of past situations, everybody deserved to be loved and accepted for who they truly are.

A pregnant silence engulfed Erik’s office as Oya and Skylar waited for him to speak. For the last 45 minutes he had been busy typing away at his computer, only pausing briefly to think before starting again. Once finished, he leans back in the Italian leather chair, stroking his beard as he gives the therapy plan a final onceover.

“Alright, before we begin, we first need to get to the root of the problem. Oya, why do you feel you need SPT and what do you hope to gain from it, other than my business partner as a mate?”

Ouch.

Oya recoiled slightly at his brashness. She hadn’t expected to be put on front street so quickly, nor was she prepared to discuss her history so soon. She suddenly felt bare, like she had been stripped of all of her clothing in front of a crowded high school auditorium and her anxiety was spiking. Skylar took notice of how withdrawn she’d become and placed a comforting hand on her thigh.

“It’s okay, Oya. You don’t have to explain in detail just yet, we just need a general idea of what we’re dealing with so that we approach it in the best way,” Skylar explained, the gentleness of her voice causing Oya to return her soft smile.

While she knew that there wasn’t a logical reason to be afraid of Erik or his opinion, her brain had been conditioned to be critical of men ever since that fateful night in her uncle’s basement. Still, having Skylar there was comforting. Her presence made it easier to generate a Spark Notes version of her past.

“I was abused and shunned as a child and as a result, became overtly sexual. While I know that sex can’t fill the void that was left from that experience, it’s the only way to silence the voices in my head. I started looking into SPT because I saw that abuse survivors can benefit from it.”

Erik’s face softened from its usual hard line. While he’d assumed this girl had been through the ringer, his mind couldn’t begin to fathom just how deep her trauma ran.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” he started. “Since it’s obvious that you’re a lot more comfortable speaking to Sky about this, how about the two of you do dinner. If not tonight, then later this week. During dinner, Oya, I need you to be as transparent as possible. I need you to go into full detail of what happened and then Skylar will report back to me. The two of us will formulate a comprehensive 8-week therapy plan, which will be implemented starting next week. Are you okay with doing this?”

Oya nodded, finally allowing herself to completely relax.

“We’re gonna get you right, Ms. Ramirez. Over the next 8 weeks you’ll watch yourself become a new woman, I guarantee it,” Erik smiles, offering her his hand to shake.

She accepts the invitation, returning his smile in the most infectious way before turning to Skylar.

“I know SPT doesn’t always require sex, but we can still implement some BDSM therapy, right?”

Sky laughs in response. Leave it to Oya to bring sexual humor into an otherwise serious situation.

“Baby steps, Ms. Ramirez.”

Oya's salmon arrived on the table and she licked her chops, having been out all day without eating. Why Sky had inquired about her level of hunger, Oya stated that her radiant smile was enough to fill her, however, the angry cry of her stomach told a different tale.

The pair opted for a Friday evening dinner, an excuse for Skylar to have a drink or two and not worry about having to work the following day. She sips her Hendricks and tonic slowly, savoring the crisp taste of the cucumbers she requested be added to the concoction.

Oya slammed face first into her plate effectively scaring the shit out of Sky who was currently rethinking a few things in regard to diet based on Oya's uncouth and grizzly attack on her fish.

"Well. She eats fish like I eat pussy," Sky sighed, brushing it off. Still, she found herself keeping her eyes down to her own plate.

"I wasn't that hungry," Oya belched, wiping her mouth with her stained paper napkin. "I'll take another one still."

After her second fish, Sky was appalled at the way Oya had violated those salmon. She decided that she would also train Oya to eat like a human being and they would practice on a sushi date, since they require smaller bites.

“Alright fish murderer,” Sky finally chirps. “You’ve avoided the inevitable long enough, it’s time to talk.” Oya lifts her head slowly, much like a dog who has just been scolded for peeing on fresh carpet.

“Do we really have to talk about this? Like is it honestly necessary?”

“Yes, Oya. With all due respect, we can’t treat you if we don’t know what we’re treating. You gotta give us something.”

“I gave you something earlier,” she snaps defensively.

“Yes, but that’s not enough. There are several forms of abuse, Oya. Just saying you were abused doesn’t really tell us anything. We can’t use verbal abuse treatment methods to treat a victim of physical abuse. You understand that, right?” Sky asks incredulously.

Oya pinches the bridge of her nose in annoyance. She was beginning to regret even bringing up the whole thing. While she thought she was ready to expose this part of her life, fear and her anxiety were getting the best of her. She was beginning to close up again.

Just tell her, her psyche coaxes.

“I was raped by my mother’s brother when I was ten. It happened nearly everyday for 6 months. It took everything in me to say something to my mother about it, but when I finally did, she accused me of lying.”

A lone tear slid down Oya’s cheek at the memory.

“From that point on, I haven’t been able to trust or fully commit to a man. Which is why I couldn’t talk to Dr. Stevens earlier. I know he means well, but --”

“It’s a work in progress, I understand,” Skylar interjects.

“To this day, she refuses to acknowledge what that man did to me, even though he’s currently serving a 20-year prison sentence for pedophilia. From that point on, sex was my escape. I know it sounds oxymoronic, but it helped fill the void and silence the pain. Even if the gratification was short lived.

Skylar takes her hand, offering a napkin to wipe the fresh tears that slid down her face.

“I think we should start slow. I’ll get with Erik, but I feel like our first few sessions should be meditation and sensate focus. I want you to be comfortable with touching and being touched in a nonsexual manner before we move onto more advanced methods. Are you ok with that?”

“I think so,” Oya admits. “I’ve been using sex to run from my demons for majority of my life. I don’t want to hide anymore.”

“And when this is all over, you won’t have to,” Skylar smiles.

“I still wanna be your sex slave at some point, though,” Oya jokes.

“Check please!” Sky laughs.

After several back and forth debates as to where the session should be held, the doctors finally decided that Oya’s house would be best.

“It’s somewhere that she feels comfortable, and therefore, it should be easier for her to open up,” Erik said once the final decision was made. Sky nods her agreement, texting Oya to alert her of the plan.

Sky: Instead of coming to my office, we’ll be doing the session at your house. Is that ok?

Oya: Ooh, I get the good doctor all to myself. Say less. Here’s my address

Skylar chuckles at her eagerness, adding the address to her Maps app for later access.

“She seems excited,” she tells Erik, pocketing her phone.

“For now,” he says, sliding a manila folder towards her. “She’s flighty, so her nervousness can come back at any moment. Make sure you keep her relaxed the entire time.”

“Why you talking to me like she’s my first patient?”

“Just making sure your head is in the right place. You’re typically behind the scenes. Patients like Oya can be tricky.”

“I got this, dad,” Sky groans, swinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands to leave.

“You better stop. You ain’t called a nigga Daddy in a minute, Nola.”

“Goodbye, Stevens! I’ll let you know how things go.”

“Text me. I promised the baby brat we’d go to the carnival later. She’s been dying for a funnel cake and a new stuffie.”

“Aww, how sweet,” Sky beams, armed with new ammunition to tease Shea with once they were back in the office. After reading through the therapy plan for herself, she rests the folder and her bag in the passenger seat and heads home. She would need the rest of the night to prepare for the next day’s session.

The California sun beamed brightly as Skylar made her way to Oya’s apartment. It was a beautiful three bedroom, three bath unit in Playa Vista, not far from the beach. Skylar was immediately drawn to the brightness of the space, the white walls with soft marble and gold accents adding to the feminine charm.

“I was thinking we could do this in my meditation room,” Oya said once Sky was done with her exploration.

“Ooh meditation room,” Skylar squealed, following her into what would become her favorite room in the entire unit. Behind the curtain of strung selenite crystals lay a spiritual oasis. Two black Buddah statues sat on both sides of the entrance while pink, orange, and yellow pillows decorated the floor. They looked to be from Bali or some other spiritual region. On the east and western walls were sun and moon appliques, subtle nods to the orishas Yemoja and Oshun, while chakra posters and decorations line the southern wall. On an inverted bookshelf near the front facing wall lay her crystals, sage, and a small altar Sky could tell had been used recently.

“Okay, I already loved the rest of the house, but this room is a whole vibe,” Skylar compliments, pulling out her notebook and video camera. “It’s standard practice that these sessions are recorded, but if you’re uncomfortable being on film, I have a tape recorder.”

“No, the camera is fine,” Oya assured, taking a seat on the pink pillow. She sat Indian style with her palms resting on her knees. Skylar placed her camera between two rose quartz cathedrals, taking a few test shots to ensure the angle was perfect. Once done, she mimicked Oya’s stance on the yellow pillow across from her.

“It is the third day of March and the time is 3:33 pm,” Skylar says, beginning the recording.

“I see you, Universe,” Oya muses to herself, allowing herself to be consumed by the feeling of divine protection.

“We’re going to start with simple breathing exercises to get you relaxed and comfortable, okay?” Oya nods in response. “First I need you to sit up straight, but keep your shoulders and neck relaxed.”

Oya complies, rolling her neck to the sides to release some apparent tension.

“Now, close your eyes and visualize your happy place. It could be the beach or your bed, just wherever makes you feel the happiest,” Sky instructs, doing the same. “Now, breathe in deep through your nose, hold it for about five seconds, then release through your mouth.”

The two repeat these steps about five times before Oya is finally allowed to open her eyes. Skylar makes note of the sated look in her eyes.

“How do you feel?” she asks softly.

“Surprisingly, I feel really good. I do breathing exercises often, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed before.” “Good, that’s what we want. Now, we’ll move into sensate touching. I’ll need you to remove your jewelry and as much clothing as you’re comfortable with.”

Oya’s face turns up into a sly smirk.

“Are you getting fresh with me, Dr. Greene,” she teases, slowly removing the white Nike crop top.

Sky chuckles before answering.

“Quite the opposite, Ms. Ramirez. In sensate touching, participants are typically nude and free from jewelry. The method we’ll be practicing this afternoon is non-genital sensate touching, which means that I will touch every single part of your body except your breasts and your vagina. While sensate touching may cause arousal, it is important that you remain professional and focus only on your own sensations while being touched, understood?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Oya responds, saluting for emphasis. This makes Skylar giggle.

“I can already tell you’re not going to make this easy for me, Ms. Ramirez.” “I promise to be a good girl, Dr. Greene. You have my word.”

“Alright. This first session will be strictly me touching you with my hands. If this goes well, then we can introduce other elements, such as feathers, scarves, and even oils. If at any point you feel uncomfortable or sleepy, let me know and we can continue another time.”

“I’m not allowed to fall asleep?” Oya questions.

“No. It’s important that you remain awake and conscious through the entire experience,” Sky responds, positioning herself behind Oya. Slowly and deliberately, Skylar rubs her hands up Oya’s arms, starting with just her palms. She moves up to her shoulders and neck, alternating between firm and subtle pressure to the pressure points there.

“Mmm,” Oya moans softly. “You should consider massage therapy,” she coos, allowing her head to fall slightly.

“You think so?” Sky asks with a grin. “Yes ma’am. Your touch is very relaxing, Dr. Greene,” Oya shudders as Skylar’s fingertips dance up and down her back.

“Well I’m glad you think so, Ms. Ramirez.”

The session continues for exactly 33 minutes before Oya’s eyes start to droop. “Okay, I think we need to stop, otherwise, I’m gonna be asleep in your arms,” Oya says, her voice audibly more soft and relaxed than when they first began.

Skylar shuts the camera off and makes a few more notes in her notebook before putting her things away. Without thinking, she sits down beside Oya, pulling her so that she was cradled against her supple bosom.

“I don’t think I’d object to that much,” she beams.

Oya bites her lip softly before staring up into Sky’s big green eyes. She could see herself getting lost in them for days.

“You think you’re capable of fixing me? I’m damaged goods, Dr. Greene.” Her voice came out just above a whisper, her tone laced with vulnerability. Skylar smoothed her hair, tucking a stray curl behind her ear before delivering her heartfelt response.

“A smushed Reese’s cup is still a Reese’s cup, Ms. Ramirez. And I happen to really like Reese’s cups.”

Oya’s smile spread across her whole face, a soft twinkle dancing in her eyes.

“I’ll be your Reese’s cup.”

@vikkidc @thadelightfulone @sydneebleu @blktinkerbell @madamslayyy @chaneajoyyy @jozigrrl @thehomierobbstark @ @iamrheaspeaks @mareethequeen @forbeautyandlife @whatmoredoyouwantamericaa @blowmymbackout @wakanda-inspired @yaachtynoboat711 @nickidub718 @heyauntieeee @princessstevens @bakarilennox @xaviera108 @alexundefined @raysunshine78 @dameshaemonique @laketaj24 @youreadthatright @theogbadbitch @bugngiz @amirra88 @post-woke @im5ftbutmythroat66 @blackpinup22 @maya-leche @blessyd-bthyname @unholyxcumbucket @eclecticblkgirl @kissmyafropuff @rick-sosa @jennajai @allhailqueennel @killmongersbaby @eye-raq @thickemadame @soulfulbeauty19 -

#vanity writes #my shit #erik stevens #killmonger smut #daddy erik #killmonger fic #bde #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x black oc #carnal stimulation

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jaehyun-eclipsed · 3 years

Text

Before I Met You | Twenty

Next Update: ~December 29, 2020

Pairing: NCT (Jaehyun, Lucas, Mark, Jaemin, Johnny) X Reader/OC

Genre: Romance, Angst, Coming of Age

Summary: Four. There were four people before I fell in love with you… Here are their stories.

Author’s Note: Hello! Sorry I’m a few days late -- was doing some finishing touches. Also, instead of having a regular update schedule, I think I’ll be sticking with letting you know when you can expect the next update!

Before I Met You Masterlist

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“Where are you going?” Jia asks as soon as she sees me putting on my boots.

I glance up at her as I zip up my right boot. “Grocery store.”

“Oh… by yourself?”

I’m not sure why Jia suddenly decided to ask today who I’m going to the grocery store with. Perhaps because I went last Saturday morning, never go in consecutive weeks, and certainly never go at two o’clock in the afternoon. Or she senses that I’m sneaking around her and avoiding questions like I was with Jaemin.

“No, Johnny asked me to go with him.”

“Johnny?!” she exclaims. “Why does Johnny want to go to the grocery store with you?! He seems to want to hang out with you a lot, huh?”

“I don’t know. I mean, we just played card games and talked yesterday.”

Jia’s eyes widen. “What if he likes you?!”

I shrug.

That is a good question though. What if he does like me? Then what am I supposed to do? I would go out with him, but—

“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” she asks. “I saw a girl here like a month ago with him. I didn’t recognize her.”

“I don’t know. He’s never mentioned any—

Shit. No. That’s what Jaemin did. Please do not let this be a repeat of Jaemin. I don’t have time for that kind of shit again.

Jia quirks her eyebrow, wondering why I suddenly stopped midsentence. “Any… what? What are you thinking?”

“Uh, he’s never mentioned anything about it. Have you ever seen her around here after that?”

“No, I don’t think so…”

I press my lips together. “Maybe they broke up.”

“What if he does like you?!” she asks excitedly. “Would you go out with him?” I blink a few times and shrug. “I guess so.”

“So you’re from Medford? That’s cool. My family drove through there once on our way to Portland. It’s nice.”

“Yeah, I like it there. You grew up in San Jose, right?”

Johnny and I walk up the hill towards a local grocery store a few blocks north from where we live. My face feels cold from the end of fall chill, but I feel strangely happy. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that I sort of have a crush on Johnny because I think he’s cute and we’re hanging out.

I’ve been asking him questions. Trying to figure out what he’s like. Trying to figure out whether he has a girlfriend... I know I could just be direct about it and ask, but it seems kind of random to suddenly say, “So, do you have a girlfriend?” when I barely know him.

We obviously know that we can’t just default to, “Oh, if he has a girlfriend, he wouldn’t be trying to hit on someone else” and immediately assume he has morals because apparently that’s not always true.

But aside from that issue, Johnny is nice and in the “getting to know you” stage, he’s decently interesting.

“Yeah. My parents and my sister moved to California a few months after I was born. So I lived with my grandparents in Korea until my parents came back to pick me up after settling down to bring me here,” he says.

“Do you speak Korean?”

“Yeah, but it’s not very good. I can get around though.”

“I’ve been trying to learn Korean,” I say. “I can read the alphabet and say a few phrases!”

“Oh really? I could help you out sometime.”

Johnny is a year younger than me and he has a sister that’s a year older than me that goes to school in San Francisco. His dad is often traveling for work, so Johnny doesn’t see him as often when he goes home to visit his mom every few weeks. Since she’s home by herself often, she spends a lot of her time volunteering at her church, though sometimes she’ll buy a plane ticket and meet Johnny’s dad wherever he traveled for work.

It seems… lonely.

We arrive at the grocery store and I follow him around, watching him pick out his groceries and making casual small talk about our classes, our interests, and what food to buy.

I can’t help but feel flirtatious. And that’s a weird feeling to me because I never feel flirtatious. Friendly and shy, sure. But flirtatious has only ever really occurred once and I’ll never forget that feeling. I clearly like Johnny, but I’m not trying to give it away. But he asked me to go grocery shopping so that has to count for something.

“Do you want some tea?” Johnny asks, pointing to a colorful display of canned teas.

I blink several times. “Uh, sure? I can Venmo you.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he says. “Which one do you want?”

I spot my favorite flavor near the top and without saying a word, walk over to the display and get on my tippy toes in an attempt to reach the peach tea. My fingers are just a few inches shy of reaching it. Johnny chuckles and I keep my back to him to hide my frown. He walks up behind me and easily reaches over my hand to grab the can and place it in his cart.

“You could’ve just told me which one you wanted. That’s the benefit of being short with tall friends,” he teases.

“Hey! I’m not short!”

“You’re shorter than me.”

“Everyone is shorter than you!” I retort.

He chuckles again. “Yeah, that’s true. Is there anything you need? I’m done.”

I shake my head and turn to head towards the checkout line. An Oreo display case catches my eye and my expression morphs into one of disgust.

“Cherry cola Oreos?” I say in disbelief. “That sounds gross.”

“Hey, they’re probably good,” he responds, pulling out his phone.

I shrug. “I guess they had to pass the taste test before production.”

He doesn’t respond, engrossed in whatever is on his phone. My curiosity gets to the best of me and I begin peering over. He’s looking at an ad for Muji and in the top left corner are the Facebook chat bubbles. Mine is the only one on the screen and he doesn’t appear to have any other notifications. I don’t know what this would tell me. I figure if he had a girlfriend, she would message him while he was on his excursion. Actually, wouldn’t he ask her to accompany him? Unless…?

“Hey,” I greet, placing a glass of water and a plate of sliced fruit on the table. “How’s the studying going?”

Jaehyun lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s all right. A lot of terms to remember. Strategic risk, credit risk, call-options, price insurance… hard to keep them straight sometimes.”

“Do you have any flash cards? I can help test you if you want.”

He shakes his head. “That’s okay. Maybe a little later. I’m doing some practice questions now.” He looks at the plate, grabs an apple slice, and takes a bite. “Thanks.”

“You’ve taken and passed a couple exams already. I know you’ll do great on this one,” I say, taking a seat in the chair across from him.

“Yeah, but I had to take one of those exams multiple times.”

“So? You still passed. That’s all that matters. And now you’re on your way to becoming a certified financial planner! You’re doing great!”

Jaehyun smiles a bit. “I’d really like to pass this one the first time…”

“I’m sure with all the studying you’re doing, you’ll be fine. You still have a few weeks to get it down.”

“Yeah, but I have to work too…”

I chuckle lightly. “I don’t know how you do it. But you amaze me every day. Work, study, and pass these exams.”

“Honestly, I don’t really know either.” Jaehyun leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “We should take a vacation after this.”

I clap my hands together. “Let’s go somewhere warm after I finish finals! Last vacation during law school because next semester it’s finals and then the bar exam.” I press my lips together and frown. “Tests. Always another test!”

“Are you coming in here to study?”

“Hm? Oh, I need to make a call to Siwon first. Why? Do you need something?”

Jaehyun smiles and shakes his head. “No.”

“Oh, okay,” I say as I get up from my seat. “Then I’ll—

“I just like it when you’re with me.”

I started spending more time downstairs with Chaeyoung and Shotaro. We’d sit in a comfortable silence to study and then chat over dinner. Occasionally Johnny would come down to join us. Though recently, he had been cooped up in his room trying to finish the last CS projects of the semester with Hendery. So we didn’t see each other as much, but he did message me frequently to see how I was doing and ate dinner downstairs with the rest of us.

Within a matter of weeks, classes ended and dead week was upon us. Now it was a week of intense cramming and poor diet followed by finals and then a few weeks to relax before doing it all over again. It’s like a hamster wheel… constantly running, only to find out you receive a piece of paper for your endeavors.

After finishing lunch in the dining room, I pack up my laptop and notebooks to set out for a psych review session and a few hours of library study for genetics. Johnny walks in and sits down at the neighboring table, thoughtfully watching me as I place my belongings into my bag.

“Where you going?” he finally asks.

“I have a review session for my psych class at two and then I’m going to study in the library until five or so.”

“Oh, where is it?

“In the life sciences building.”

“Oh.” He shifts around in his chair a bit and begins biting the inside of his lip. “Are you staying in the life science building after that?”

“Yeah, that’s the library I like.”

“Oh, okay. Maybe I should check it out.”

“It’s nice. It’s smaller and they usually have space.”

I glance at him, expecting him to ask to join me in the library, but when he doesn’t, I mentally shrug and throw my backpack over my shoulder.

“See you later,” I say, heading towards the door.

“Bye.”

At the review session, I scan the room and sit down next to an old dorm floormate. She doesn’t notice when I sit down, furiously texting someone with a furrowed brow.

“Ugh!” she groans.

“Everything okay?” I ask out of obligation.

“My boyfriend is being stupid.” She puts her phone back in her pocket. “I kinda think he’s cheating on me.”

I bite my lip and nod in acknowledgement. “Boys suck.”

“Tell me about it.”

I pull out my own phone to avoid any further divulgence and see a message notification.

Johnny: you said youre gonna study at the library after your review session right?

Heh. It sounds like someone’s too afraid to ask in person.

Me: Yeah

J: when does it end? can I join you? I wanna go study at the library but I don’t wanna get lost lol

My forehead creases in confusion upon reading Johnny’s reasoning. Get lost? How would you get lost?

Me: It’s over at 3 and yeah

Me: Just meet me in front of the library at 3

I’m holding back a smile. I wanted to go to the library with Johnny, but I also didn’t want to be the one to ask. To some extent, this was a test for him. To test his attraction? I like being chased just as much as the next person and if the opportunity presents itself to spend time with Johnny, then all the better.

J: ok! See u then!

An hour later, I exit the lecture hall and start walking to the other side of the building towards the library. Johnny’s tall figure is leaning against the railing in front of the entrance. He’s wearing a gray baseball cap and holding a textbook against his left thigh while using his other hand to scroll through something on his phone. I walk up to him and looks up from his phone.

“Hey!” he greets. “How was the review session?”

I shrug. “It was all right.” I gesture my head towards the library. “Ready to go in?”

He nods and I start walking into the library with him following slightly behind.

“Whoa,” he whispers, lightly grabbing onto the dangling strap of my backpack. “I’d definitely get lost in here. Make sure I don’t get lost.”

I turn my head slightly to look at him over my shoulder. Gawking at him, he smiles widely back at me. I blink at him a few times and turn back around, continuing on towards the tables in the back and pretending like I’m not leading a child with one of those backpack leashes.

Okay… maybe he’s just really, really weird.

God, this looks so stupid.

I stop in front of an empty table with two high chairs. Johnny lets go of the strap when he sees me move to take off my backpack and then follows suit. I place my belongings on the table and immediately immerse myself in reviewing for my genetics exam. I occasionally take glances over at Johnny who is diligently reading the textbook he was holding and taking notes. Normally, I’d pay a little more attention, but that’s not really my priority right now. However, I won’t deny that there’s this annoying voice in my head that’s asking, “What in the world is Johnny doing? He must like you, right? But what if he has a girlfriend that you don’t know about? Those pictures of him with that girl are still on his Instagram page, but some people leave all of those photos up even after they break up. I don’t have a gauge on what he’s like and whether he’d do that.”

Later that evening, while trying to finish a bioethics paper in bed, I receive a message from Johnny.

J: what are you doing?

Me: I’m trying to write this damn paper and it’s pissing me off

J: you want some cookies?

J: maybe it’ll help you write your paper

Me: Mm okay. I’ll be downstairs in a few

“Are you going downstairs?” Jia asks as I begin shuffling around and grabbing my backpack and a small blanket.

“Yeah.”

“Did you go to the library with Johnny earlier?”

I freeze in place and slowly turn around. How did she know about that?

“I saw you guys walking back together when I was coming back from my review session,” she continues, answering my question without her knowledge.

“Oh, yeah. He asked to meet me there.”

“Oooh!” She cracks into a wide, shit-eating grin. “He likes you! Are you meeting him downstairs too?!”

“Yeah, he said he had cookies. I want some.”

“Oh my gosh… do you like him?!”

I feel the heat rise up into my cheeks. “I mean, I think he’s cute and he’s fun to hang around with, but I don’t think I like him like that.”

“Oh yeah… if he has a girlfriend, you probably shouldn’t.” She ponders for a few seconds and her eyes shoot open. “Do you think his girlfriend knows he’s hanging out with you?!”

I mentally scoff. If Johnny is actually interested in me like that, I bet he’s conveniently left it out of any conversations with his girlfriend that he’s hanging around another girl and grabbing onto her backpack strap so that he doesn’t get “lost” in the library.

“My guess is probably not.”

I quickly leave and consider the conversation I had had with my dad earlier. I called to tell him about Johnny asking to meet at the library, grabbing onto my backpack, his various offers of cookies and what not. Basically, dad thinks that Johnny probably likes me. His opinion on the girlfriend thing? He’s not sure since we don’t know whether or not Johnny actually has one. It’s strange that she showed up once and then never again and that he’s never mentioned her. This is starting to sound eerily familiar. It’s a problem for later. I need to focus on finals for now.

There is one thing that I hadn’t realized until now though.

Jaemin hasn’t come to mind as frequently.

Perhaps I was finally getting over him.

“What’s the paper for?” Johnny asks as I set my things down at the table on his left.

“It’s for some bioethics class. I’m doing research on pesticides and lymphoma. Not exactly a happy topic.”

He pushes the cookies over to me, gesturing with his left hand for me to take some. My brow raises in curiosity when a piece of jewelry on his wrist catches my eye. It’s a thin, black band with a circular charm hanging off it. It looks like there’s something engraved on it, but I can’t tell because the backside is facing up.

“What’s the bracelet for?”

“Hm?” Johnny raises his left arm and runs his hand through his hair. “Which one?”

I raise my brow at him. “The only black one around your wrist…”

“Oh.” He lowers his hand and looks at his wrist. “Um, it’s a bracelet from my girlfriend.”

I deadpan for a few seconds before quickly remarking, “Oh. Nice!” and following with forced smile.

I turn back to my laptop, trying to pretend to read through my essay. Though, if my facial expression clearly conveys annoyance, I wouldn’t be surprised.

See! This is exactly what I meant about not being able to assume anyone has morals. Interested in Johnny, Y/N? Not anymore. Never mind.

Oh well. It’s not like I got that far with this anyway.

There’s a quick motion coming from my right and suddenly the room becomes dimmer as a baseball cap is placed on my head. I slowly turn to look at Johnny, still slightly miffed at the revelation from seconds earlier. He smiles warmly at me.

“Do you want to go to the library tomorrow?” he asks.

“Why did you do that?” I ask without answering his question.

“What?” He shrugs. “So do you want to go? We should wake up really early in the morning to go so that we can get a head start on studying!”

I nod my head. “Okay.”

What are you doing? There should be some blaring siren going off in your head, but there isn’t. Oh, that’s right. It’s because you’re still attracted to him.

I grab the hat on my head and place it back on his.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s too big for me.”

“It’s a thinking cap. It’ll help you with your essay.”

“If only it were that easy.”

Johnny chuckles and then opens Facebook on his laptop. He has two messages: one from Hendery and another from someone with the nickname “Boo boo.” It’s times like these where I’m glad I have good control over my facial expressions and can easily type out an essay while reading over someone’s shoulder.

Boo boo’s profile picture is clearly of a girl and when Johnny opens her chat box, I see that boo boo sent a bunch of heart stickers. He follows by responding with a few hearts and a “hiii boo boo!! i love youuuuuu soooo much!!!” It goes back and forth like that a few more times.

I have to try not to gag. Is this what people are like with their boyfriends and girlfriends? Am I going to be like that? Oh gross.

Maybe I just don’t understand what love is. Who am I to question their love? However, if Johnny is “soooo in looooove” with his girlfriend, why is he acting like this with me?

If this is a repeat of Jaemin, I’m walking right into a trap.

The rest of dead week played out the same way. Wake up in the morning, go to the library with Johnny, watch Johnny send “I looovvee youuu” messages to boo boo, study in the evening with Johnny, grab a study snack with Johnny, spend time with Chaeyoung and Hendery while with Johnny.

My whole study life started revolving around Johnny. And really, it was simply having someone to spend time with. Johnny and I could sit in a comfortable silence and study for our own classes, occasionally taking breaks to eat or show each other videos. It was a good arrangement and I liked my new friend.

But the sad truth was, I liked my new friend a little too much and I had a feeling that nothing good was going to come of it.

Johnny had a girlfriend and he knew that I knew he had a girlfriend. I’ve never been interested in home wrecking and I certainly wasn’t saying anything or doing anything other than spending time with him, to indicate that I had a crush on him. But here we are a year later with the same problem: is it morally wrong for me to be spending time with this guy when I have a crush on him while fairly certain that his behavior was indicative that he liked me? Isn’t he technically emotionally cheating on his girlfriend?

I think the way I tried to justify this was by telling myself that I wasn’t the one initiating the hang outs or study sessions. Johnny would ask and I had the option of agreeing or declining. And sincerely, since I was just trying to study, I didn’t see anything wrong with it.

On the last day of finals, I joined Johnny, Chaeyoung, Jia, Shotaro, Hendery, Sungchan, and a few others in the dining room, celebrating over a box of donuts and cups of hot chocolate. We were exchanging social media accounts to keep up with each other over the break.

“Hey,” Johnny greets as he grabs the empty seat next to me. “Are you going home tomorrow?”

I shake my head. “No, the day after.”

“Do you wanna grab lunch together tomorrow? Hendery is leaving and I’m also not leaving until Sunday.”

“Oh, sure! That would be fun!”

“Cool!”

He throws his baseball cap on top of my head and suddenly the room is quiet. I can tell that everyone is looking at me. I keep my gaze down on the table and take a few seconds to respond with a laugh.

“I don’t want your hat!” I exclaim playfully, pulling it off and trying to put it back on him.

He lightly shoves my arm away. “It looks better on you.”

I ignore him and put the hat down on the table and move to grab another donut from the box, silently praying everyone will stop watching and pretend like nothing happened.

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Before I Met You Masterlist Masterlist

#nct #nct 127 #jung jaehyun #lucas wong #na jaemin #mark lee #johnny suh #wong yukhei #jaehyun #nct dream #nct u #wayv #superm #before I met you

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mimzy-writing-online · 4 years

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I hope this question isn't too stupid, but you're one of my favorite writing blogs so I'll give it a shot. I want to write a FanFic based on the 1971 version of Willy Wonka. I wanted the story to tell Violet Beauregarde's story, the one that turns into a blueberry. However, I have SOME questions as I'm fairly new to FanFic. 1). Am I better off focusing on each kid's perspective, going back and forth? Or is it good to narrow my focus one one character? 2). Can I give them a character arch, li

(2/3) like Violet's really mean in school but she becomes kind after her experience at the factory. Is that too cliche or predictable? 3). Why does she try waddling away after her blueberry transformation and the Oompa Loompas are singing/dancing around her? They're trying to help her, and I don't really get why she'd do something like that. 4). What are tips to better understand the characters I want to flesh out? I guess it circles back to the last question, understanding their psyche. Yikes

(3/3) Yikes! Super sorry this ask is long. And I'm even more sorry if my questions were lame or you've covered them before. :P. I can overthink at times, ESPECIALLY when it comes to my writing. I'm such a perfectionist storyteller, it's not even funny. I hope my questions aren't bothering you. You're one of my favorite writing blogs, so I figured I could come to you. I apologize in advance for wasting your time. You DO NOT have to reply at all if you don't want to. :P Thanks, have a great week

First and foremost: this is not a stupid question, you are not wasting my time at all. This is actually a rare treat for my blog because I don’t get many asks that don’t involve blindness, though I usually know better how to answer those than I do other questions. So, here we go:

Are you better off focusing on each kid’s perspective, going back and forth? Or is it better to narrow your focus onto one character?

The general rule of writing is to simplify. If two background characters serve a similar purpose, just combine the characters, for example. Slimming down extra scenes that don’t contribute to plot or character development.

However, that advice is meant for people publishing novels, working within an overflowing industry, dependant on sales and royalties. They have to meet whatever industry standards are, like word count or POV types. They have to find someone willing to take them on as a client because they love that book.

Fanfiction is not bound by such nonsense. Fanfiction is a beautifully lawless land where capitalism cannot influence it. What defines what you do with fanfiction is if you enjoy reading it, and if you have the steam to continue a long project.

Some people easily write 200,000k fics within a matter of weeks or months (or in my case, just once, two years). Some people work best with short fics. Both (and everything in between) are wonderful.

So, how much steam do you have for this project? How long do you think you can carry it and still finish it? Because that defines how big you should plan to make this project. If you don’t think you can write a long fic, then maybe just stick to one character.

A compromise between the two is to focus primarily on one character, and examine the other characters more briefly. This could be done in just a single POV chapter, or a handful. This could be done with the characters connecting and seeing the side character through your main character’s eyes, seeing how they’ve changed.

There’s no wrong answer. This fic is for your enjoyment primarily. No matter what you write, it will appeal to at least a few people, if not crowds. But your fun comes first, both literally and figuratively. Write for you, write to explore the story for yourself.

Can you give them a character arc like Violet’s where she becomes kinder after her experiences in the factory? Is that too cliche or predictable?

I wouldn’t call it predictable, because I’d expect everyone to go into completely different directions because they were all such unique and individual people before they entered the factory, and they were foiled by their own quirks.

Violet was mean and fake, she was demanding. I don’t know how much I want to speculate on the plotline you have going for her, how you’ll develop her to make her want to be more kind.

But I would love to speculate on the others.

Agustus Gloop?

I feel like his experience in the chocolate river and almost drowning would make it hard to enjoy chocolate ever again. I think it would be a long time before he had any sweets. Also, because of his weight, I imagine there’s got to be some body-image issues hiding under the surface. I’d also put money on him being bullied, and him acting out against the students who bully him and because of his size he is more intimidating, but that doesn’t stop people from saying things behind his back.

I imagine the chocolate thing is a form of self-comfort. Maybe he turns to other foods to over-eat with to cope. Maybe eventually he figures out that this isn’t helping him. Does he try to replace unhealthy foods with healthier ones? (idk, I have a personal turn off on getting into the concept of dieting, so I’m not going to dig in much there).

I’d like to see him learn to love himself, develop some body neutrality, that his body doesn’t define who he is or what his worth is. That he becomes okay with who he is as he grows up. People who are happy and comfortable with themselves are generally nicer and easier going than people who aren’t. Maybe with some self-love, he’ll be kinder to others.

Veruca Salt?

Okay, I have a confession. My brain thought of her when discussing Violet. I haven’t seen either of the films in years.

Well, let’s thank Wikipedia everyone, the greatest gift of the internet.

Veruca does come across as a spoiled brat. Her parents shower her in material objects, which might mean something. I have a close friend who hates people buying things for him or giving him gifts that cost money. This has to do with a parent buying him things out of guilt after episodes of emotional abuse. I asked him a while back what he wanted for his birthday (I meant baked goods, I bake or cook special meals as birthday gifts for my friends. A has asked for chocolate chip cookies for three birthdays in a row now. Several friends ask for cookies for Christmas). Anyway, my friend had a panic attack and couldn’t respond until an hour later.

Maybe there’s something to that.

What does she think about money as she grows up? Does her love language continue to be gifts? I think it might one day be quality time. Maybe it is now. It’s common for rich parents to be absent and barely spend time with their kids because of work and extravagant social lives that sort of money gives them access to, meaning they barely have time in the day to spend with their kids. Maybe gifts are the only way she can make sure her parents still care, the only way she can get their attention?

Mike Teavee?

Apparently in the movie credits his last name is spelled Teevee. But I’m obsessed with tea (and this is the point where I remember my tea and wonder if I’ve let it go cold because I got too focused. Nope, it’s still there). So it’s Teavee here.

Wikipedia describes him as a young boy who only watches TV, nothing but TV. He’s especially interested in cowboys and Western films. He comes across as a know-it-all. He’s easily annoyed but gets along with others.

Anyone have a guess at where I’m going with this?

Mike is neurodivergent. I mean, that’s my new headcanon. I lean towards ADHD because that’s what I project, but like everything else, his interpretation is in the eye of the beholder. Every viewer sees something different in him.

Some common ADHD (and autism) experiences beyond having a specific interest is how others react to your special interest. You get used to people getting bored when you talk about your interest for the thousandth time, but it’s still important to you, but not to someone whose opinion matters to you. RSD is probably common.

Wikipedia says he’s described as lazy in the books? Common ADHD “symptom,” or rather something that outside viewers label as laziness. Really, he just doesn’t have the motivation to do any of those other things.

And Charlie?

Did anyone think I wouldn’t have any thoughts on Charlie, our hero and protagonist?

Oh no, I have thoughts. Charlie goes to great lengths to set his family up comfortably, he becomes generous with his money. He also knows nothing about running a factory. I’m hoping Willy Wonka gives him some help there. But I bet adult Charlie is a stressed-out workaholic who tries to do everything and thinks he has something to prove, that he’s not just some random lucky child, that he can do this. Charlie totally gets a work-related anxiety disorder.

Those are my thoughts. I still think giving them Violet’s arc isn’t cliche or predictable, but rather completely different from what you think would happen to all those kids.

I mean, maybe a few of them are still little jerks in their adult lives. There’s no one road to grow up on, even if you’re four strangers who shared a similar traumatic experience.

Why does she try waddling away after her blueberry transformation and the Oompa Loompas are singing/dancing around her? They're trying to help her, and I don't really get why she'd do something like that.

They strange looking short men she’s literally never talked to, never seen or heard of before today, who’s already taken away two children by this point, all while singing a song about what terrible children they were.

And she’s scared because her body is doing something strange and scary and awful. She’s scared. She doesn’t know what to do. What will happen if these strange men take her away? She doesn’t know what happened to the other kids.

And they’re not really communicating they want to help, just singing cheerfully about how awful children are.

What are tips to better understand the characters I want to flesh out? I guess it circles back to the last question, understanding their psyche.

A lot of it is just watching real-life people and wondering why they are the way they are. Listening to their reasoning and what they tell you about who they are and where they come from.

I know people who grew up like Agustus with using over-eating as a way to self-comfort, and the bullying they experienced. I know that if a kid was physically bigger than his bullies, maybe he’d fight them to make them stop and leave him alone. People who go through that journey of learning that their body doesn’t define who they are, accepting it because it is theirs and it takes care of them.

(Which reminds me of a post I like that pops around here and there, that positive body image should be about more than how “sexy” your curves make you look. A person shouldn’t have to be sexy to be treated like a person. A person shouldn’t have to be sexy at all if they don’t want to, especially not all the time, and especially not a child. And there are a lot of obese children in the world who don’t have any positive body image messages designed for them)

I learned what my friend’s love languages are and why they have them and what they mean. Which is why I have that theory for Veruca.

Mike is just self-projection and listening to other neurodivergent people when they describe their life experiences or listening to their theories when they say a character is neurodivergent too.

I won’t lie, my theory on Charlie is based entirely on the Avatar: the Last Airbender fandom’s common head-canon that Zuko becomes a workaholic after he becomes Firelord. There might be some canon material in the comics that supports that, but I’ve never seen it. I think Zuko and Charlie have a similar vibe and that those three years Zuko struggled, and Charlie’s entire life before the factory make them both feel like they need to be perfect and do everything right to prove they deserve the job they’re given and that their backgrounds don’t define their worth.

Thank you so much for your ask anon!

And again, you are not a bother. I enjoyed digging into this movie I’d never thought in depth about until tonight. And you’re not alone, lots of writers are overthinkers and perfectionists. You are in good company. Our writing and fanfiction community welcomes and loves you <3

And thank you for your kind words! I’m so happy that you love my blog so much <3 It made my day to read that

Take care anon, and good luck in your writing :)

#writing advice #fanfiction #writeblr #anon #charlie and the chocolate factory #Anonymous

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magpiemorality · 4 years

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Freudian Sides, A Very Long Meta Theory Post

This is a rewrite of a rambling post with my imagining of fitting the Sides into the Freudian Personality Theory of the id, ego and superego. I have never studied psychology but enjoyed researching this a bit! It’s edited and added-to to be more readable and understandable, and mainly to collect all of my own thoughts in one place for me to come back to later. If you’re interested then read on, warning that it’s a long one, full of rambling opinions from this one thinker here, but hopefully some of it is interesting. If you agree with me let me know, if you disagree with me also let me know, but I should point out that this is just one theory I’ve applied to the series and characters and there are probably loads out there that fit!

Let’s get to it~

Warnings: mention of infection, very long post, badly researched psychology!

AO3

***

The Freudian Personality Theory

Summarised from this article

The theory that Freud presented is that the psyche/personality can be separated into three distinct parts; the ID, the EGO and the SUPEREGO. These are not physical parts but aspects of the psyche that influence the personality of a person.

The id is the most basic instincts, deep in the subconscious, things like eating, seeking pleasure (in the sense of good feelings for the person), and survival instinct; things that won’t change as you age because they are so intrinsic (apart from the development of the reproduction instinct in those it presents itself in). The superego is the conscience and the ‘ideal self’, your most socially affected part that dictates morality and outward self you want to project into the world. It’s the bit that makes you choose to do stuff for others and follow laws and social rules, and gives you the desire to be better and improve, as well as being a source of guilt or pride if you succeed or fail at those things. The ego balances the two, trying to find the best outcome by appeasing the id while following the code of the superego. It uses rational thinking and grounds decisions in reality while still working to seek a positive overall outcome for the person. It doesn’t have the sense of right or wrong that the superego has, and failing to control the id can result in feelings such as guilt or anxiety, which it may try to unconsciously defend the psyche against as a coping mechanism. It is concerned primarily with helping the personality feel good in a socially acceptable way.

Sides as aspects of the Personality Theory

So I found that this theory fit rather well with the sides, better than the dark sides/light sides, left brain/right brain, each side has an opposite, disorders vs productive aspects, conscious vs unconscious aspects, all theories which are interesting but never quite rang true for me. The way the theory presents the aspects as independent workers that influence the personality of the person lines up very well against the personified Sides, affecting Character Thomas as he utilises them.

In that regard I see the sides we see during the series more as entities brought to life and assigned personifications semi-consciously by Character Thomas rather than the aspects of the psyche brought to life, or the sides of his personality brought to life, because I believe that a) he has changed them prior to and during the series by interacting with them consciously and semi or subconsciously assigning them personifications, and b) they all perform multiple roles and duties beyond what their named ‘role’ in the series is, so just sticking to that doesn’t fit, or would require a whole host of other characters that we don’t know about to exist, which I personally don’t see working well within the series (Orange notwithstanding; that’s a discussion for another time!).

In order to reconcile those things my thoughts were to place each side within the Freudian theory and then explain why they might not entirely fit using points a and b as supporting evidence.

Firstly, Virgil and Remus would be the id, the instincts and base functions, easily able to disrupt and overwhelm the main psyche if left unchecked. Too much attention paid to these can result in feelings of guilt or anxiety, influenced by the Superego, and overall I think the id is a mess of conflict of instincts as well as survival wars with curiosity and impulse. So, Remus is pure impulse and represents several base instincts such as sexual and morbid.

The ego is of course Logan and Janus, with their logic and rational thinking and defense of Character Thomas over everything else, which adhering to social values and concepts. They are very much the self control sides and do exactly that, working together not only to keep Virgil and Remus satisfied and not overwhelming, but to do the same for the superego sides. They don’t bother themselves with wrong or right, but prioritise Character Thomas’ well-being, sometimes over the superego as well, keeping that in check just as easily as they keep the id in check. Logan is a notable foil for Remus and often Virgil, and Janus has proven his own desire to act in this way. Perhaps while the superego was essentially in charge this is why the id sides became disordered; because Janus was only able to do half of his role and overcompensated by forcing the id down entirely rather than offering compromise along with Logan and keeping the superego in check at the same time. The feelings of guilt that catalysed that must have been fairly great, which matches up well with Character Thomas’ religious upbringing and how that would have interacted with puberty and his growing sense of self.

That leaves Roman and Patton as the superego, which just fits!! Patton is the conscience and morality side but in many ways so is Roman. He also firmly believes in the code of right and wrong, perhaps recently shown to be influenced by Patton or perhaps he simply feels it more strongly than Patton. We certainly know him to be a product of that way of thinking, with the half of creativity concept. And as Character Thomas’ career aspirations it is interesting to look at him because had there been another career of choice he would perhaps have been entirely different, or if you prefer to look at it the other way; Character Thomas may have chosen to pursue a career in performance because his superego and ideal self is incredibly theatrical and performance orientated. They also both strive to be the best people they can be, more so than any other sides holding themselves to lofty standards and their own account in the model of ‘best’ that society has taught them! The religious influence can’t be downplayed here. And they do influence Thomas's negativity over first Virgil- with Roman’s constant animosity towards the side before the acceptance- and then Remus- from Roman and Patton as well, while Logan the ego is more concerned with neutralising the threat Remus poses instead of fearing him. It could be said that Patton even influences Virgil's reaction to Remus, turning the id on itself by guilting survival instinct into attacking the other instincts as dangerous. Finally, if left unchecked themselves by the ego they also get out of hand and become neurotic and overwhelm the psyche too. Patton caused the distinction between light and dark and is responsible for many feelings of guilt and poor conscience for Character Thomas, while Roman often feels insecure and unsuccessful because his ideal self is too out of reach for reality. They need the ego to stay in touch with reality and to function best for Character Thomas, in cohesion with the other sides.

Keep reading for the final part of my 'analysis';

How Character Thomas muddled things up

To me, this feels right for how the sides were all formed, with the added caveat that I think the choices Character Thomas made of assigning them personality traits has skewed the picture somewhat. For example as mentioned above; I don't think Remus was initially ‘Creativity’ at all, but that the impulsive thoughts he brought to the table were labelled that way because of the superego's guilt and influence not being held in check by the ego during formative years for the psyche.

Now the main problem in the Sanders Sides canon is that the sides, well, exist. The fact that Character Thomas sees them consciously and has subconsciously personified them has influenced and changed facets of each one in a very interesting way, character-wise. The superego’s control over everything has inspired Character Thomas to demonise certain aspects that would otherwise have been perfectly natural and safe, albeit in controlled doses. Instead we have the entire id forced subconscious and then breaking out to bring Virgil to the conscious fore; But let’s look at this more on a character by character basis (because I apparently need to write it this way!).

Remus, who would have just been base instincts but also due to suppression has become disordered as intrusive thoughts, but thanks to Character Thomas’ conscious personification of Roman, was subconsciously remodeled as ‘dark creativity’, even though the two function in completely different ways in the show, and in this theory. Roman’s creativity, aka the imagination, is a conscious choice that Character Thomas chooses to use, and he actively chooses not to think ‘dark’ thoughts in his imagination. Remus is more impulsive and base and subconscious, uncontrolled and not so much creativity as original thought coming from those instincts and, mainly (I’ll keep on at this thread forever I swear) impulse. Interestingly in the Vines, if they exist within the same universe, then Remus’ impulses have in fact been regularly satisfied through (as mentioned many times before) jumping out of a car, setting things on fire, all the butt selfies, etc. His Intrusive Thoughts title could therefore stem from mainly the repression of his aspect of the psyche; by forcing the baser instincts down on the principle of them being ‘wrong in the eyes of society’ the superego and Character Thomas unwittingly created a sort of malformation where impulse becomes more negative and unwelcome because there is no outlet, like an infected wound, trying to lash out and instead of being cowed by the moral conscience only forming harder around that idea (that society would view them as bad) in order to do the lashing out. Think of it as a mental association of base instincts and those thoughts and impulses with ‘don’t think this’ and ‘bad for you and for society’. The pink elephant thought experiment is incredibly relevant here. The more repressed instincts are, the more they wildly act out and become disordered.

Virgil as the more survival instinct side of the id had a similar experience; through some means, probably overinfluence of the superego he became disordered as well, his survival instinct shifting from physical danger to more often social danger, and his expression as Anxiety was a malformed way of working his role for Character Thomas and responding to the control and repression the superego exerted over him. The intrusive thoughts and anxiety disorders that Character Thomas experiences I would theorise came from the id trying to balance an overzealous superego- and the impact of the superego imposing societal concerns on an aspect of the psyche that should never deal with the outside world- with the ego overwhelmed by the superego as well. It’s intriguing that when he was accepted/became a ‘light side’ his name was not changed from Anxiety to something more reflective of his job, however I suppose there’s a case to be made that once an aspect has become disordered, leading to mental health issues, it’s probably incredibly hard for it to turn back and ameliorating the symptoms is often the best solution. Accepting Anxiety in this case was the best thing they could have done, and accepting Intrusive Thoughts will hopefully come along soon as well.

Logan is fairly simply personified and distinguished and luckily mostly saved from the complications of personification, but not of the peronification of the others. They all have to function to keep themselves in check now as conscious beings, removing some of the responsibility from the ego as Character Thomas and the sides have started to think rationally for themselves. This has resulted somewhat in Logan becoming less relevant and useful and not being listened to as much, which we have seen in the show recently. He's still needed of course but his function has lessened with the development of the sides as personalities, and is perhaps going to be the next side to have to come back into balance as the rest of the psyche learn they need his guidance as well as their own (and I think it would be interesting to see Janus have to fill his shoes and struggle to do all the work, requiring him to come back full force).

Janus has suffered from the personification in much the same way Remus has; through demonisations. But I think mainly this resulted in Janus being unable to do his own role as a balancer of both sides because he was overwhelmed by the guilt of giving in to instinct and therefore put even more effort into forcing down the id, mainly Remus, and abandoned his ‘put yourself first’ role for Character Thomas, which Logan struggled to fill in a way Character Thomas can relate to. Seeing them work together and playing to their strengths would be wonderful, and the latest video demonstrated some of that ability to tag in, although Logan was a little sidelined by the situation.

The superego is where things get really messy, and it’s emblematic of the power and preference Character Thomas has given the superego in the past that they’ve developed so much and have so much to them. But just as their opinions and concepts haven’t really developed past his childhood developmental stage, their personifications haven’t either. Instead they’re quite a mishmash of traits Character Thomas most valued in his authority figures and his ideal self at that same age, not quite fully developed or cohesive characters.

Roman is first up. Ah, Roman. We know that he represents, to Character Thomas, his creativity, passion, romance and femininity. That’s a lot of things for one side to cover, even in the Sanders Sides universe way of explaining things where most sides have just one ‘job’. Add them together though and you can easily end up with the superego, or at least a part of it. Roman is, in my eyes, inarguably the aspect of ideal self. He is the most reflective of the outward personality of Character Thomas, and fulfills the role of his career driver and general motivation in life. He, perhaps in conjunction with Patton although in some respects more than Patton, drives the feelings of success and failure and the pride or guilt at attaining or not attaining the standards the superego as a whole set for Character Thomas to reach. He’s the role model, the person Character Thomas most wants to be (albeit exaggerated), and most idealises and idolises from the media he consumed as a child. Again; undeveloped past that age. He also deals quite literally in the control of the id’s impulses; he is a Disney prince ready to fight the Bad GuyTM. Patton may be the driver of that decision but Roman will carry it out no problem. In fact, the entire Accepting Anxiety arc was fascinating for showing how the ego and psyche as a whole needed to correct the superego’s behaviour primarily in order to lessen the negative effects of the id, rather than the way they’d gone about things before of just fighting against the id directly and suffering the backlash. It’s why the most recent episodes with Patton and Janus were also so interesting; a well-functioning ego can exert enough control to tame the superego and thereby control the id as well (but that second part I think we have yet to see, with the purging of the ‘dark sides’ narrative from Roman to come, no doubt).

And Patton, poor Patton. Morality AND childishness AND the dad side AND The Heart? Morality and being the dad side fit the superego aspect perfectly as moral authority figure types and duties, and I’ll admit right now that this theory renders most of my characterisation of him as a chaotic good fairly redundant in favour of the authority figure lawful good/neutral (but fanon is fanon and canon is canon and we only draw from the latter for the former’s pleasure right?). The Heart also makes sense. I’ve seen it characterised as the emotional side, feeling all emotions, which was a train I was fully on until recently! I think his title of The Heart makes more sense in line with the superego’s outward looking conscience; he is the primary aspect responsible for gifting the psyche with that magical pride, or chastising it with the ever-feared guilt. He feels good, or bad, there’s not a lot of nuance there, and indeed in the series he rarely displays emotions other than those two, and those emotions affect the other sides often more than him himself. Nostalgia might be one other emotion you could cite, but that’s not unique to him and is more a facet of Character Thomas’ being a person. I suppose it could be rationalised as something the superego wants to think about or aspire to because it inspires the psyche to be better, or because it was a time when the psyche was better, pushing the ideal self onwards while simultaneously backwards to retrieve and recreate those wonderful moments. There weren’t really many bad memories in the nostalgia episode that I can remember, certainly. And the fact that the superego controls the nostalgia is interesting as well. But the childishness... well it’s far more of an id thing to be childish. In fact it really suits the fact that the id develops at birth and then does not change with age! It’s a thing that I’ve noticed changes a lot in characterisations of Patton everywhere, even somewhat within the series itself as it doesn’t quite mesh with the rest of his character apart from being a nice sort of gimmick or front. It doesn’t quite feel genuine, although the naivete of his being unable to understand many jokes or adult concepts fits absolutely spot on with my own theory that Character Thomas’ superego stopped developing after forming when he was young. Childhood is also when the religious influence would have started and impressed a huge amount of morality on Character Thomas right when the superego was formed and along with Roman’s very black & white/disneyesque thinking and personification this supports my theory, only further supported by the fact that the main development in the series recently has been when the childishness or childish concepts have been left behind more for responsibility and culpability and shades of grey thinking. It all feels a lot like a late bloom into adulthood. Patton has started to accept his role in the psyche and learn how to control it; primarily by not trying to control everything else and leaving that to the professionals of the ego. His part in the latest video was the least childish his characterisation has been, and I doubt it’s a coincidence that it felt more genuine than he has done previously. Character Thomas’ aspects are finally growing up!

So in conclusion; by making each side more conscious of their role CT has both helped and hindered them, taking them from their original roles in the psyche and warping them a bit, but now allowing them to return to a stable, balanced and organised structure, which is also their original and healthiest one, conforming to the Freudian Personality Theory.

That was a really long way of explaining why I think this theory really lines up against the Sanders Sides characters as a great framework for their existence and functions. This will absolutely be informing my own interpretations of them in canon-setting fic going forwards, and I’m intrigued to see what anyone else thinks!

If you made it this far; well done, go have a cookie or two on me, you’ve earned it!!!

#ts sanders sides #ts sanders sides headcanons #ts sanders sides theories #sanders sides #sanders sides theories #sanders sides meta #freud #meta #long post

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