#those I love having difficulties is a normal thing and not my fault or responsibility. it does not make me a failure if they are struggling | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phlve · 1 year

Text

Subtype Trait Structures: sx4

Devaluer

Devaluation is present in the repertoire of defense mechanisms of this enneatype in all subtypes. The difference in the sexual E4 is that it tends more to projection, to devalue the other, and to openly blame him for his shortcomings and defects. In the enneagram there is no one more devaluing than the sexual E4. Other enneatypes also devalue, but it is in the style that the competition differs; it is the quintessential head trimmer to look comparatively taller. Devaluing the other by belittling and blaming him as a way of not being in permanent contact with his own sense of internal worthlessness.

Guilty and Blaming Others

The sexual E4 is, of the three subtypes, the one that projects the most, and in this aspect it can easily reach cruelty, above all displaying a great capacity for verbal aggression, as we have already pointed out. Sexual E4s have a phobia of feeling how little they value themselves, and also of feeling guilty. He tends to blame the other, compulsively needing to find someone responsible for the feelings that he does not want or accept for himself.

On the other hand, he has no problem admitting his guilt dramatically when he feels that all is lost. The fault can even be of life or of God himself, and it can be a form of manipulation. That is to say, there is great mobility between the extremes that go from “I am not guilty of anything” to the tear of “I am guilty of everything.”

“I have always moved between a very high ideal of myself, and on the other hand a very poor self-image. With little packaging to recognize the pain and refusal to accept the responsibility of life. I have always blamed God, my craziest idea has been that God has a plot against me.” - John Lion

Irresponsible

What is observed in this way of functioning is the difficulty and little capacity to assume responsibilities in the affairs of life. As we have seen, the sexual E4 tirelessly dedicates itself to making something or someone (normally the couple) take care of those aspects that they do not feel capable of sustaining or developing by themselves, with a feeling of their own right that is difficult to reasonably question. Only with introspection work do they come into contact with what it means to take responsibility for one's own life. They usually deposit in the other the need for material sustenance or emotional support that allows them to put their energy into creativity or navel gazing as really more important matters, which help them perpetuate the sense of being special. If that sustenance does not arrive, they can develop the aspect of being misunderstood, very present in this subtype, justifying outbursts of bad humor, anger, rudeness, etc. They directly relate irresponsibility to complaint and protest, as a way of reacting to the fact that responsibility is not understood: “The complaint and the protest work automatically in me; I live the realities of life, common to all humans, more closely, as if they only happened to me that way. Complaining is a childish mechanism that allows me to remain unaccountable and is perhaps one of my most common neurotic traits. I protest about everything and if I don't express it verbally, I protest in my internal dialogue. It's so automatic that sometimes the only thing that stops me is the idea of ending up as a bitter and curmudgeonly man.” - John Lion

The sexual E4 also presents obsessive tendencies, either towards a person who is the target of his love, or towards some activity in which he finds comfort, and these become the only lifeline and something essential that is out there to solve the problems. Issues that he does not face on his own, and perhaps to control a depression that he could not contain.

“Here came my encounter with yoga and inner work. I went to live in a community. It was a lifeline and I became obsessed, I've always been very obsessed with the things I like. There has always been something that I have placed my obsession on.”

Dissatisfied

Everything previously developed is basically based on dissatisfaction and the way of relating to it. Although this topic will be illustrated in the section on love, we would like to underline in a sympathetic way the Gata Flora style (“if they put it in, she screams and if they take it out, she cries”) that this subtype boasts and that shows its almost dissatisfaction permanent in all areas. If they don't hit him, he screams, if they hit him, he doesn't know what to do with it and most likely despises it. Dissatisfaction is associated with the belief that nothing and no one is enough and the experience of a bottomless void.

Emotionally Labile

The sexual E4 swings a lot between euphoria and depression, there are no grays or nuances, they move in extremes from everything to nothing, always or never, in fact they are common terms in their vocabulary. This manic-depressive or cyclothymic tendency is found at various levels of severity depending on the subject. We can read it from the passion for extremes that leads the person to identify at different times with being the most wonderful or the shittiest. These subjects can go from one state to another in very short periods of time, either due to external stimuli, environmental circumstances, or internal ones, related to fantasy. Emotional lability is characteristic of this subtype. This network of functioning leads to the intense way of life with which these people identify so much, and which they use as another refined way of not being in touch with real lack.

Transgressive and Intolerant of Limits

People of this subtype do not easily adapt to limits imposed, either by authority figures, laws or conventions, nor do they have many references to internal limits. We could mention here a certain maladjustment (not as much as the lustful E8), restrained at times by the feeling of guilt that usually appears. The transgression of limits is developed on many occasions at the level of fantasy, before an audience or an imaginary other. It is not so important to break the limit itself, but how this is seen by others; there is a pleasure in causing some kind of stir among the spectators, as if from that place one could obtain a great adhesion or a great rejection, but in short, something intense to enjoy and to talk about.

The sexual E4 is not very reserved, but he feels special pleasure for telling his experiences in a compulsive and shameless way. His position is: “if I don't tell it, it's as if it hadn't happened to me,” and if he feels that this provokes his audience, all the better. Actually, his goal, more than sharing, is to impress and feel superior, even when what he says demeans him.

When they do not obtain with their manipulations (and it finally happens), they can undertake a change and a path inward, taking responsibility, recognizing the lack as such and the drama. In this way, begin to transit creative solitude, inner strength, and finally responsibility for your thoughts, feelings, and actions.

Histrionic

This trait makes it sometimes difficult to recognize the character of this subtype as it can appear very humorous, funny, and expressive. He likes to occupy the stage also in a theatrical way and not only through the tragic. When he is in this polarity, he is sustained by a grandiosity that makes him feel superior and that “I can do everything.” Obviously it is a temporary situation that can end quickly, because he is very susceptible and sensitive to any adversity.

Selfish

Always finding a justification for his great suffering, difficulty, or lack of possibilities, it is easy for him to be a person who is not very available to the needs of the other. He uses his suffering to not carry out tasks or to delegate things to the other that he does not like or that require effort. Egoism is also in the conviction that the suffering of the other is never as important as one's own.

Violent

We have already talked about aggressiveness and self-injury, here we want to underline the harmful behavior that they can have towards others, reaching physical violence, which above all acts in the relationship of a couple or family. Violence occurs in a special way when you do not support frustration, or fear when you feel that you are losing control over the other.

Extravagant

Sexual E4s are not afraid of originality and often enjoy feeling different. He loves to be special, unique, and original. And he succeeds. You can speak very explicitly without conforming to good manners, as well as dress flashily and against the grain. His desire to be peculiar makes him also brave and adventurous, minimizing risks and dangers.

Inconstant

Despite being very creative and talented people, they often fail to carry out their projects. The self-ideal is very strong and low self-esteem is often hidden. They have many dreams and aspire to occupy special places, and their thirst to be admired is so great that it is difficult for them to sustain the slightest failure or any obstacle. The difficulty in maintaining discipline and tolerating the necessary path can cause disappointment, and feelings of incapacity that are suddenly masked with anger or devaluation also outwardly.

Jealous

Jealousy is lived with great intensity and is the reason for enormous scenes, especially in the couple; but also, even disguising more or less well, they feel jealous in any situation: family, work, social, and friendship. The constant competition that keeps them alive makes them evaluate in each situation if they are preferring or choosing them with respect to others, and if they do not feel chosen it hurts them a lot, provoking and jealousy projecting the one who becomes their opponent. But he is also very clever, knowing the terrain, to provoke the jealousy of others.

Overpowering

In relationships, in his impulse to be seen, and by his demand and need for things to be as he intends, unable to be even-tempered or feel equal, he imposes himself many times with a modality that runs over, abuses, oppresses, humiliates, and discounts. Although being polar can also be overwhelming in its generosity, care, and concern for the other.

Vain

He shares with the neighboring E3 this characteristic, and with the triad dependent on the image, in this case to hide his envy, as if he would dress up and apply makeup on himself attempting to cover the horror of his internal atmosphere that he is so ashamed of. As we have seen, the perception of oneself is in a continual series of ups and downs, and in the moments of ascent, vanity accompanies it, such as the excessive belief in one's abilities and the attraction it causes in others. If he is in a good mood, he takes great care of his appearance (according to his canons, of course) and likes to be recognized, although compliments make him a little uncomfortable because deep down he never fully believes them. So he can manifest himself as arrogant, conceited, self-centered, and with high points of queen/king narcissism, considering others as mediocre.

Sarcastic

The sarcasm of sexual E4 is a mixed fruit of his bitterness, and his wit and talkativeness. He does not laugh healthily at himself or at reality, but rather mocks with scathing and cruel irony, offending or teasing. And they have a lot of ability to do it, only, seeking excessive attention, they ridicule, humiliate, or insult. In effect, the etymological origin of sarcasm is linked to “biting the flesh” (of the victim). In their histrionics, they appeal to humor cleverly, but maliciously seeking to make the other look bad or if they themselves, if they themselves are also the object of their sarcasm. However, this trait sometimes serves as an escape valve for anger, to release it before it becomes uncontrollable and dangerous.

Cheerful and Chatty

They are usually very happy people, especially in moments of euphoria within their manic-depressive peaks. Just as when they are down they are the most dramatic in the enneagram, when they are on top they become the funniest, sharpest, and most capable of laughing at themselves and their misfortunes. Quaint as they come, they can be talkative and very talkative in their attempt to focus the audience's attention on them. If they find the paid field, there is no one to stop them, and they even tire the audience, of course.

Seductive

Intense for the bad but also for the good, they are usually good lovers, and are well predisposed for sex, since it is something in which they have specialized as a weapon to obtain love. They know how to enjoy sex and also seek their own pleasure, unlike the other subtypes, who may be more content with just giving pleasure to the other. But it's not just about sexual seduction; the sexual E4 seduces even without realizing it. In general, they have a strong erotic charge that permeates all their movements; walking, dancing, eating, talking, and they know how to handle it well when it is directed or focused. Seducing and rejecting often becomes in the sexual E4 the story of never ending, an endless circle. They are attentive to what they like and detect what works and what does not. It is a peacock that only unfolds its beautiful tail when there is someone who, perhaps without knowing it, has previously seduced it. They are good observers, analyze and capture who they want to seduce.

Sensitive and Artistic

When they take the final steps to grow internally, they can reach high degrees of understanding and empathy with the other, and also be experts in the ability to confront in an open and positive way. They have a deep emotional wisdom that translates into a good understanding of the human being, his emotional range and the availability to connect, and be compassionate. They are highly sensitive and spend much of their lives immersed in internal mental landscapes, where they feel free to cultivate and analyze their feelings, and out of a desire to manifest this inner world they tend to have a great interest in the arts and many become real artists in different fields. They have the ability to be very creative, thanks to their emotional richness, and their fertile imagination is usually translated into artistic work or other fields in which they contribute the new, the original. They have an important aesthetic sense of life, they value beauty in all its forms, they are aesthetically concerned with self-expression and self-revelation in the general nature of their lifestyle. If they are given to art they can be profound, peculiar, and novel.

Because of the drama of the character they can be good actors. They seek to give everything an artistic and special touch. They are among the people who investigate, and investigate the most in personal growth. They have an interest in finding ways out of the neurotic. Due to the experience of dissatisfaction and relational problems, they are usually well predisposed to therapies. When they find a bond of trust, respect and affection, they can commit and respond positively to treatment.

Intellectual

Among the E4 subtypes, the sexual is sometimes highly intellectualized. This is revealed in his aspirations, his inclination to knowledge, to study, to research the most varied subjects, but above all humanistic and philosophical. They love to read and be informed and, in many cases, they are strongly involved in social or political commitment. In his stubborn non-conformism, passion for criticism, rebellion against the system, they define him as a revolutionary, although the ideals of justice for which he fights may be based on a very personalized perception of reality that refers to his need to compensate for his feeling of injustice.

Source: PDB Wiki

#personality theory #personality types #typology #enneagram #enneagram subtypes #instinctual variants #enneagram 4 #type 4 #4w3 #4w5 #sx4 #esfp #infj #isfp

22 notes · View notes

motherjoel · 4 years

Text

last cup of coffee (spencer reid x reader)

summary: you and spencer are the famous frenemies of the BAU, but one day he goes too far in a fight and the team decides to force you both into the same car to make up. little did you know, the check engine light isn’t just a suggestion.

a/n: this is on my ao3 but i wanted to post it on here too! let me know what you think :)

wc: 2.6k

tw: brief mention of suicide

“Triple A says it’ll be a few hours before they’ll get here,” Spencer sighed, shutting off his phone and shoving it in his pocket. The car engine had stopped working about 10 minutes ago and you cursed yourself for your terrible navigation skills. It may have been your fault that you had no idea where you were, but you'd never admit to it- like many other things you’d never admit to. Your extreme sense of pride led you to blame Spencer for not doing anything about the check engine light. It was this same sense of pride that hid your real feelings for this man- feelings you would never admit to even yourself. Instead, you shielded yourself from these emotions in the form of daily bickering matches with Mr. Genius.

The two of you had ended up in the same car on the way back to the hotel, which was insisted on by the team. You could feel the tension in the air- the tension that had been there since you stormed out of the break room earlier. You both normally never went for blood in these arguments- nothing behind either of your words were to be taken seriously, even the team knew this. Everyone knew that you and Spencer had a bit of a love hate relationship- today, however, was focused on hate. Ever since he went a little too far during one of your bickering matches, you had been icy with him. The team couldn’t take the tension, so they figured a long car ride would solve the issue, except, what was meant to be only an hour of awkward silence was now an indefinite amount of time.

“Well that's just great,” you huffed, going to check your phone to see that it was dead. You dropped it into your lap with a sigh and leaned your head on the window to gaze outside. The cold glass felt nice on your forehead- a contrast to the flushed hotness you had been feeling whenever your mind drifted to your fight with Spencer. The pent up anxiety from this case had really weighed on you- the unsub was killing teen girls and was framing the deaths to look like a suicides. This struck a chord with you, but you tried your hardest to not let it show. You thought back to your argument earlier, where your icy exterior had faltered slightly.

Most of the team was in the break room of the police station you were working the case at, fueling up on the coffee you all so desperately needed. You were the last one to fill your cup, or so you assumed, so you decided to fill your mug to the top with what was left in the coffee pot. Spencer was the last to walk in, and when he saw you holding the empty pot he immediately started in on you.

“Wow, I'm not surprised Y/N took the last of the coffee. Predictable,” he said with a huff, slamming his travel mug on the counter. You winced at the noise, your stress headache was back and you didn’t feel like dealing with his temper.

“You know what Reid? Maybe if you weren’t shitting around with that pretty receptionist over there, you would’ve gotten here on time. Not my fault men think with their dicks,” you said the last sentence under your breath, but he definitely heard it from his flustered reaction.

“I was asking her to bring me some files!” he yelled, seemingly defending himself to the room of your teammates who had stopped in their tracks to watch their daily entertainment. “You know what, Y/N, you’re just insufferable,” he said, turning to the coffee machine to fill it up. Your eyes widened, but you tried your best to mask your expression or to come with a response- when both failed, you stormed out of the room and went to the bathroom to ground yourself, not hearing Morgan whack him on the back of the head once you were out of sight.

You had both been silent for about 20 minutes when you decided to look back at him for the first time. He was shifting in his seat, trying to get comfortable for a nap. You couldn’t stand to sit here in silence for what could possibly be hours, so you tried to break the ice.

“Tired?” you asked him. Simple, but enough to get the two of you talking. Or so you thought.

“Yeah, someone took the last cup of coffee,” he said sarcastically, not daring eye contact.

Groaning, you opened the car door, stepped out and slammed it, deciding to walk down the street you had stopped on until you reached the dead end. It had begun to snow as you walked, and you cursed yourself for forgetting your jacket. At this point, it didn’t matter- the icy coldness of the outdoors was better than the coldness coming from Spencer's attitude.

After walking for a few minutes, you had come across a cliff with a view overlooking the city below. The sight was enough to make you forget about your dead phone and the genius, who had, unbeknownst to you, quietly followed you to this spot. You spotted a green wooden bench overlooking the city and took a seat. It wasn’t long before your tears began to flow. They were wet hot tears of embarrassment, of anger, and of sadness. For years working in the BAU, you had tried to keep up your barrier, being the badass in the black boots (Garica’s loving nickname for you). Your past weighed on you, however, and you kept everyone at an arm's length. All of these people you so desperately wanted to be closer to, and one person in particular who uncharacteristically gave you butterflies. Letting these people in, however, meant vulnerability. Getting close to someone just meant that losing them would inflict great pain on you, and you didn’t think you could survive any more loss in your life.

After crying for a few minutes and wiping your tears on your sleeves, you felt a sweater being draped around your shoulders. The sweater smelled like him. He made his way around the bench and sat next to you. You hastily wiped the last of your tears and scooted to the edge of the bench to stay as far away from Spencer as possible.

“So, why'd you follow me? I thought I was ‘insufferable’” you quoted him from earlier, the sentiment that struck a chord. You hugged the sweater tighter to your body, ignoring that it belonged to him because the chill of the night catching up with you.

“Listen, Y/N, I'm sorry about that. You know how I get when I'm having difficulty with a case, and it's not like we have a great track record with each other,” he defended himself, and he was right. Neither of you really expressed outward kindness for each other, but you never knew why. “But… I didn’t think today was any different,” he finally looked up at you.

“You’re right, Reid. Today isn’t any different,” you sighed, avoiding actually telling him what was wrong- although your splotchy red post-cry face was telling enough. He flinched at your use of Reid- although you two were “frenemies,” you always called him Spencer, sometimes even Spence. The team teased you for it but you shrugged it off- “Spence” was just easier to say, or so you told yourself.

“Then… why did you storm off?” he asked softly, looking back down at his hands on his lap, fidgeting with them slightly. You avoided his gaze, knowing that you were about to tell him something that only Garcia knows- she did a bit of research on you because she wanted to know why you were so cold, and when she found out that your parents had died at a young age, she was nothing but kind to you. She also kept everything to herself, which you were grateful for.

“When I was in high school, I was in a really bad place,” you started, fighting back the tears. Spencer scooted closer to you, urging you to continue. “I wasn't very well liked. When I was 15, my parents both died in a car crash and I transferred schools to live with my aunt,” you confessed. Spencer's expression saddened greatly, and he rested his hand on your arm as a form of comfort. You gave him a look that said “oh, and that's not even the half of my trauma” before you continued.

“At this new school, I was bullied a lot. Like, a lot a lot. People told me I was a waste of space, I was… insufferable,” you said, ignoring his pitying expression. “I started to believe these things. Spence… I tried to take my own life,” you said, finally breaking down in tears. Before you could continue, he wrapped his arms around you and you buried your face in his chest, letting your messy tears stain his shirt without thinking twice. His hands stroked your back, soothing you. You had melted into him, finally feeling vulnerable for the first time in years. For some reason, you were no longer embarrassed of your vulnerable side. You bore your heart and soul to this man and were greeted with nothing but kindness. Pulling away for a moment, you continued telling your story.

“I’m doing a lot better now,” you said, wiping your tears with your sleeve as he maintained eye contact, showing his full support. “I don’t have those thoughts anymore, and if I do I know to get help. It’s just difficult to get close to people because I'm afraid… that if I lose them, I’ll be right back where I was when I was 18,” you finished, realizing his hands were grabbing yours.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. This case probably affected you differently and I was such an ass earlier, god I'm terrible,” he criticized himself, putting his head in his hands. You reached over and took his hands in yours again, resting your entwined fingers between you. This was the most physical contact you had ever had with him, but for some reason it felt more right than anything- you never knew what you were missing until now.

“Spence, there's no way that you would have known,” you soothed, looking into his eyes and rubbing his hand with your thumb. He looked down at your hands and sighed, before returning his gaze to you, but there was something different about his expression. Rather than his usual contempt, or even the pity from a few minutes ago, he now looked almost amazed. Like you were some celebrity or a superhero who had just saved the world. Before you even knew what you were doing, you started to lean in, Spencer mirroring you. Soon enough, you were inches away from his fluttering lashes, you could feel his breath on your lips. You pulled away suddenly, apologizing profusely for your out of character actions.

“Oh my god Spence, I'm so sorry, I think I'm just emotional right now, and you're being so nice to me, I didn’t mean to make things weird,” you avoided eye contact, face flushed with embarrassment.

“Y/N, it's okay! I leaned in too…” he blushed. You looked back up at him to see his eyes were already on you. Simultaneously, you both leaned in and crushed your lips together, his arms snaking around your waist and yours resting on the sides of his face. Your lips moved in perfect harmony with passion as you leaned your back against the bench armrest, him leaning forward to keep your lips connected. There was a hunger between you two- like these years of bickering and sexual tension (that apparently everyone but you two had noticed) had built up so much, it finally spilled and manifested itself as a makeout session with your once enemy.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like this, entwined with each other, before you both came up for air. He pulled away from you, still leaning over you but his face was now a couple inches away, and smiled. You both sat up and started to laugh uncontrollably. It was ridiculous, really- the two of you having an intense makeout sesh only seconds after you bore your soul to him. But he was Spencer, and you were you.

“That was…” you started.

“Amazing,” Spencer finished for you. You both sat in silence for a minute, his hand touching his lips, before you scooted closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder, curling your legs under you. He wrapped his arm around you and your hands met, resting between the two of your warm bodies.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks you. You sigh in contentment, the cold air biting your nose in the right way.

“I'm thinking that this is one of those moments that are so... perfect. It’s just so wonderful, you almost feel sad because... nothing will ever be this good again,” you confessed. He took his arm back from around your shoulder and faced you, looking in your eyes.

“If you’ll be my girlfriend, I can promise you that we can have endless moments like this,” he told you, taking you by surprise. You looked at him, smiling widely as his face broke into insecurity.

“Your… girlfriend?” you asked, still in shock. He started to fidget a bit in his seat.

“Obviously, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, I know this is really sudden but I don't know… I'm sorry, I know we're supposed to hate each other or whatever, but I’ve just… I’ve liked you for a while now,” he blurted. You laughed at his shyness, it was really adorable to see him flustered like this around you.

“Spencer, I really like you. I’ve liked you ever since you spilled your coffee on me on my first day,” you recalled fondly, he smiled. “I even liked you when you tried to clean it up but accidentally felt up my boob,” you laughed at that memory, he blushed profusely. “I think these little arguments that we get into were just fueled by my ‘keep everyone at arm's length’ rule- it was you that I was afraid to get close to, because Spencer Reid, you are dangerous. You have the capability of shattering my heart into pieces because I just like you so damn much,” you confessed to him, his face was in awe. You studied his expression, lips parted slightly, eyebrows raised. His eyes held pools of adoration, and rather than be scared and shy away from it, you finally wanted to dive in and soak in it. His expression softened as he leaned in, tilting your head up by putting his hand on your chin.

“Y/N,” he whispered. “I swear to never shatter your heart into pieces if it's the last thing I do,” he said softly before closing his eyes and pressing his lips to yours. This kiss held less intensity, but more soft passion and caring. You felt safe in his embrace, safe for the first time in years, and you knew this is where you were meant to be.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid angst #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/you #Matthew Gray Gubler

608 notes · View notes

nobodyfamousposts · 4 years

Text

BURN THE WITCH! Part 7

Trigger warning for attempted burning, attempted murder due to the aforementioned burning, and talk of stalking.

______________________________

The old pictures of witch burnings and those who conduct them were far from imposing figures. Some nowadays would insist it amounted to people in funny hats, and had difficulty taking them seriously. They certainly didn’t seem scary.

Similarly, Rose Lavillant was far from an imposing figure. She stood shorter than almost everyone in the class and didn’t have a mean bone in her body. She was more likely to break down in tears before she would so much as raise her voice at anyone, regardless of the reason. She was one whom the word “scary” didn’t even seem to be a word in the dictionary for.

But seeing Rose standing there in full Witch Hunting regalia was quite possibly one of the most terrifying things Lila had ever seen.

“Lila Rossi! Welcome to the party!”

Lila drew back—or she tried to, at least, only to end up bumping into Chat. The hero promptly grabbed hold of her wrists, effectively keeping her in place and cutting off any avenue of escape as Witch Hunter continued to approach.

“Chat Noir!” Lila hissed. “You’re supposed to be a hero! So do the ‘hero thing’ and either get me out of here or let me go!”

“So you can try to get Ladybug killed again?” He sneered, looking more disgusted and angry than she’d ever seen him. “Not a chance.”

She gaped.

“You can’t be serious!” He couldn’t be! That buffoon was never serious!

Except the way he was glaring at her looked…very serious indeed.

“You’ve evaded consequences long enough, Lila. And like your lies, these things build up over time.”

“Right you are, Chat Noir!” Witch Hunter exclaimed gleefully as she came to a stop only a couple feet away.

“And eventually, they build up so much that there’s really only one result.” Witch Hunter continued, smirking at Lila.

“…You end up on top?” Lila asked hopefully.

That got a bitter laugh.

“You only win so long, Lila. Then people have enough. And aaaall the people you trampled over on your way up will be there to drag you down.” Witch hunter almost seemed to twirl her closed scroll. “Down, down, down…until your final, well deserved end.” She finished, stepping aside and directing Lila’s attention to the pyre that was waiting for her.

“Tie her up!”

_____________________

Well, the one good thing about finally being alone was that she was able to transform in peace. Despite Tikki’s protests. Which sounded like whining more than anything.

The petty, childish part of her wanted to hold that over Tikki once things returned to normal. Moral Tikki, Kwami of Creation, steadfast voice of goodness and order, whining like a child not getting an extra cookie.

Hey, she’d have to take whatever humor she could get at this point before she would be forced to charge yet again into the insanity.

Since Lila was with Chat Noir and possibly safe for now (though with Lila involved, anything could have happened in the span of a few minutes), Marinette decided to try and locate the akuma. If she could find out where it was, she could plan.

She moved to the rooftops for a better view. There was no smoke yet—always a good sign. And the streets around her were still mostly devoid of people. But she could hear some commotion from a distance away. Following it, she noticed that it was growing louder the closer she got to the Eiffel Tower.

As were lights.

And party streamers.

And people. Whom were acting like they were simply going to a festival.

That was odd.

If the Tower was being used as a safe area, then why were people setting up this way? This wasn’t safe, it was extravagant and frivolous. It was bound to get the akuma’s attention.

There were kiosks, tents, a pyre, carnival games, food stands—back up, what was that?

…

Sure enough, looking back, she noticed a central area of the festivities specifically arranged in a rather distressing manner to create what was unmistakably a pyre reminiscent of what was used during historical witch burnings.

At least now she knew where Rose probably was. And where they intended to take Lila to.

“So this is where they’re going to try and burn Lila?”

Wait...

Chat had told her to go to the Tower. He’d said it was where everyone would be.

She groaned as realization hit her.

“He’s affected too.”

Because of course he is!

Why else would he direct Marinette there? He probably wanted her to make it to the “show”. He had been trying to be helpful so Marinette wouldn’t miss out. And he had helped…just not the way he probably intended.

Because now Ladybug knew just what her obstacles would be. She would have to deal with Witch Hunter and finding her akuma—as well as the crowds including her own partner that would no doubt not take kindly to her interference—all while trying to protect Lila. The girl who hated Ladybug so much that she would willingly work with a supervillain regularly attacking the city just to ensure that Ladybug is destroyed regardless of whose hands it happens by or what would happen afterwards.

Even if it was in Lila’s own interests and meant the difference between her own life and death, Ladybug couldn’t trust that she wouldn’t do something to sabotage any efforts to save her if it meant that Lila could take Ladybug down as well. So she couldn’t even count on Lila in this instance to simply stay out of the way.

Chat was affected. Master Fu was affected. Most of Paris was affected. Her own kwami was affected. It was down to her.

She was alone.

“Ladybug.”

Well...not completely alone.

At her side, Longg looked up to her.

“Whatever you decide to do, I will aid you.” He promised her.

That…

That really helped to hear. It was nice to be supported in a way that DIDN’T involve allowing murder. Just having one person backing her to do what she knew she should really helped.

She smiled in relief.

“Thank you, Longg.”

_____________________

It was a rather lovely gathering, all things considered. People simply going about festivities without a care, looking at food, playing games, buying souvenirs. The Mayor gave a speech. It was a nice speech, even. Yes, everyone seemed to be having a lot of fun and just a grand old time this beautiful sunny day.

Except for Lila, who was glaring pettily from the pole she was now tied to.

She was rather vexed about the entire matter. Possibly because she couldn’t join them. But more likely because the festival in question was solely dedicated to her humiliation and theoretical demise. Not that they’d follow through with it, of course, because certainly Hawk Moth wouldn’t let Rose actually hurt her, but still! It was the principle of the thing!

She had wanted to be the center of attention, but not like THIS!

“Enjoying yourself, Lila?” Witch Hunter asked sweetly as she secured the final knot.

“Okay, you’ve had your fun.” Lila growled with a glare at the smug akuma. “But don’t you have a job to do?”

Witch Hunter grinned. “I’m already doing it!”

“No!” She shouted, stomping her foot—or at least as much as the ropes would let her. “Your job is to take the Miraculous! Remember? Ladybug and Chat Noir? The heroes? Your enemies?”

The akuma shrugged in response. “Yeah, but who knows where they are or how much time it would take to find them?”

“He’s right there!” Lila exclaimed angrily, nodding her head in the direction of Chat, who was indeed only twenty feet away. “He’s not even doing anything useful!”

Chat Noir, for his part, was cheerfully engaging with a group of children. Unconcerned with Lila now that she was caught, he was instead focused on using his claws to whittle a number of sticks to fine points, much to the awe of his juvenile audience.

"Marshmallow, marshmallow! How fluffy you could be! So near a flame, let's see how toasted you could be!"

Lila watched the scene in initial confusion until he started poking a large marshmallow on the end of each stick, much to the glee of the children and some sickening realization for Lila.

“Here you go!” He said as he cheerfully handed each stick to one of the kids.

“Yay!”

“Thank you!”

“Mallow!”

“Can I eat it now?” One asked, eyeing the puffy treat hungrily.

“If you do, you won’t be able to toast it.” Chat replied. “We still have to get the fire going. It won’t be long now.” And here he gave a side-eyed smirk to Lila.

…Yep. Realization and dread was setting in.

“You can’t be serious! You’re actually going to burn me?” She demanded of the akuma.

“Well, yeah, that’s the plan.” Witch Hunter responded as she went to grab two containers of lighter fluid. “I haven’t made it a secret, you know.”

“But you can’t!” Lila shouted, horrified.

“Sure, I can! There’s plenty of wood to keep the fire well fed. Plus my torch is magical, so—”

“Hawk Moth wouldn’t allow it! You said it yourself, I’ve been helping him! So that makes us on the same side!”

“Were you on my side when you stole from me? When you lied to me? Used me?” Witch Hunter questioned with a look of disgust. “Tell me, Lila, when did this supposed camaraderie between us suddenly start to matter to you?”

Lila scoffed. “I got you power, didn’t I? Now look at you! All of Paris is under your sway! Even the heroes are willing to follow you into whatever silly good acts you’re interested in. You could just tell them to hand you the Miraculous and they probably would! With that, you could have the power to do any of the goody-goody things you want.”

“I DIDN’T WANT POWER!” Witch Hunter shouted. “I WANTED A FRIEND!”

“And we were friends.” Lila replied, unimpressed. “As you were helping me, adoring me, doing so many favors on my behalf…” She smiled. “That’s just what ‘friends’ do.”

It’s what they were supposed to do.

After all, a “friend” was just a label for people who could do things for you.

And wasn’t she a wonderful person for letting them? For allowing them to be useful?

It was just the way the world worked.

Whose fault was it really if Rose didn’t like her place in it after all?

Witch Hunter looked at Lila in disgust. As did Chat Noir and a number of those nearby.

“So you just use people? That’s what a friend is to you? Someone to use?”

Lila shrugged. “Everyone uses someone. Even Hawk Moth is using you for the Miraculous.” Her eyes narrowed. “Which are supposed to be your goal”

Of course. Because let’s not forget who was really in charge here. Not the pitiful little akuma in front of her, but the man behind the mask—so to speak.

Lila had done her part. More than done her part by this point given how far this akuma had gotten compared to any other before. He certainly wouldn’t have made an akuma this powerful without her help.

“So Hawk Moth!” Lila hissed. “Hurry up and order your akuma to do its job!”

Witch Hunter appeared to be seething before the glowing mask formed, indicating Hawk Moth communicating to his minion. Good. She was learning her place then. Likely being told to focus on finding Ladybug and to leave Lila be. She finally felt herself relax in relief.

Of course, she wouldn’t mind playing the damsel in distress. Well, she would mind actually, since it would leave her tied to the pole to keep up appearances, but if it meant drawing in and finally crushing Ladybug once and for all, it would be a small price to pay.

There was a long silence. Lila waited, feeling smug. Her confidence only grew when the akuma regained focus and turned to her.

“Ah yes.” Witch Hunter drawled with a dark smile. “Hawk Moth has a message for you.”

A message? Lila frowned. His message should be to his akuma, ordering his minion to let her go! What could he want to say to her?

“Hawk Moth thanks you for your assistance.”

With a smirk, Witch Hunter leaned forward so she was eye to eye with Lila.

“But your services are no longer necessary.”

Lila froze in shock.

“What?”

She tsked at the other girl. “You have a talent for manipulation, sure. But you waste it on big gambles that ultimately have little payoff even if they do work out in your favor. You lack subtlety and you try to reach too far. All too soon, you’ve overreached and now look at you.”

Witch Hunter spoke, and with her candid way of speaking and impassive stare, it was difficult to tell if it was Witch Hunter or Hawk Moth himself speaking. She had a feeling though…the strange sense that she was hearing Hawk Moth’s words as if from him directly.

“Your true nature has been revealed. The heroes have already long since known not to trust you, and now that the entirety of Paris is aware of your actions as well, your ability to influence and manipulate…your one worthwhile trait…is worthless.”

Lila gaped, uncomprehending. Because this…he wasn’t saying what she thought he was saying, was he?

“What did you expect would happen once you were caught? Nobody will trust you now. Everyone knows what you’ve done. What you intended to do. Who will fall for your lies now? And even Hawk Moth isn’t about to go out of his way to help someone who has fallen so far.”

“You can’t do this!” Lila shouted. “We are partners! You need me!”

“It would appear that you have overestimated your value and the nature of this relationship.” Witch Hunter replied, sounding far too old to simply be the akuma speaking. “A partnership requires equal footing, and you appear to have lost yours. Over some extra play money, no less.”

He/she sighed. “And your reveal didn’t even generate enough emotional turmoil for another mass akumatization. Though I suppose you deserve credit for this masterwork of an akuma. But between the two of you…well, it is no contest. And I am not about to risk one tool to try and save another that no longer functions.”

Witch Hunter giggled at Lila’s dumbfounded expression.

She leaned in close, speaking in barely a whisper.

“Don’t look so shocked, Lila? A tool is only useful as long as it can be used. But I’m sure you already know all about that.”

She sneered.

“Friend.”

Hearing that word, said in that way, being used against her for once made her go cold. As her label for “people who were useful to her” was turned around on her, she got a feeling for the first time just what her former “friends” had probably felt.

It was the use of that word which really made the situation hit home. At this moment she realized that this was real. This was happening. And unlike any other situation—whether before, after, or during the akuma attacks—this was one time when her charm would not be able to get her out of it.

The akuma didn’t just want to get rid of her as an obstacle like Oni-chan had. She flat out wanted Lila burned.

The entire city was backing her. Her classmates. Their families. And Chat Noir—one of the city’s heroes had helped to trap her.

Hawk Moth was not going to risk losing such a powerful akuma simply to protect one girl. Especially not one he no longer saw a use in.

This was it.

She was really going to die here.

And this time, no amount of lies, promises, or words would save her.

It was only once Witch Hunter put her torch to the pyre and the sounds and smell of the first bits of wood starting to catch aflame that Lila snapped out of it. Only to be greeted with the cheers of the crowd, all of whom were watching her execution with eager eyes. many were holding up their phones to record the moment for history. And one particularly brazen citizen had chosen to get a head start on the marshmallow roasting and held their treat on a stick over the flames that were starting to catch on the wood around her and creeping ever inward.

“Don’t worry, Lila! The smoke inhalation will kill you before the flames do.” Witch Hunter said with a smile. “That’s not to say you won’t be burned or suffer pain first, of course. But still, small mercies, I guess?”

Lila opened her mouth to respond, but couldn’t speak.

There were no words she could say.

So she simply screamed instead.

Loudly.

Senselessly.

Begging without words for something—anything to help her.

And at that moment, as if by a miracle, it began to rain.

___________________________

By all appearances, it wasn’t a natural rainfall—given the clear skies with nary a cloud in sight. Or the sudden wall of water that washed through the area and took out all torches. Though it could be argued that Longg was the original source of storms and weather to begin with, and thus any rain caused by himself or his power were indeed natural.

But that’s just semantics.

The point was that it WAS raining. On a cloudless day. Conveniently falling solely within the single area around the base of the Eiffel Tower that made up the whole of this “Witch Burning Festival”.

And most importantly, on the pyre that Lila herself was tied to, getting her wet and dousing the flames that threatened to engulf her.

A number among the mob responded as many people do in a flash downpour and immediately sought shelter from the sudden and inexplicable rainstorm. Chat, not being one for water, hissed and bounded away somewhere higher up and out of the splash zone. Alya, ever the reporter, dashed to a barrier to protect herself from the worst of the wave and continued to film the scene, grateful that her phone had a water-proof casing so as to not be damaged.

Witch Hunter, however, stood her ground. After her initial confusion at the unexpected storm, she realized quickly enough what had to be the cause and glared at the sudden accumulating mass of water with clenched fists and gritted teeth. “Ladybug!” She bit out with all the savagery of someone who had just literally had someone rain on their parade.

Because who else could it be?

___________________________

“You know the plan?” She asked her companion a few minutes previously.

“Yes. It should work. The water power will last until you fully reform, and even then you will not lose my power until you have used all three of the elemental abilities.”

Good to know. It seemed rather unfair given that she and Chat could only use one ability one time before their timers started, but for now, she would take it.

“Okay, then I can just wash out the square, douse the fire and any fire-causing sources, and dampen the wood enough that it can’t be lit again. Then focus on Witch Hunter.” She started pacing as she thought.

Longg nodded. “From what you have said, it seems Witch Hunter lacks much else in the way of offensive abilities. The other two elements may be useful, but shouldn’t be necessary.”

That was good to know. Longg was apparently quite the strategist, it seemed. It helped her to relax knowing she had someone on her side to work with.

A pause.

But just in case…

“You’re not going to advocate for her murder, are you?” She asked warily.

Better to make sure, after all.

The kwami tilted his head in curiosity.

“I do not know this Lila Rossi or what would warrant her to be set on fire. We couldn’t hear anything when we were within the box.” He assured her.

Oh. Well, that was a relief.

“But I can encourage you if you want me to.”

“No, thank you!”

___________________________

Lila spluttered as the wall of water splashed her. It was cold. It was wet. And while it did save her from the fire, it just put her back in the state of being drenched after she had already mostly dried off from an hour before.

The water coalesced into a singular form and rapidly regained color and flesh to reveal Dragonbug. She appeared tense and much like Witch Hunter, ready for a fight.

“M’lady! You made it!” Chat cheered before frowning, a bit put off. “Though we could have done without the water show…”

“My marshmallow...” One particularly unhappy civilian mourned.

“Ladybug!” Lila shrieked. Though it was hard to tell if she was actually glad to see her or not. “You did that on purpose!”

Not glad to see her then.

Regardless, Ladybug stayed silent, not denying it.

Okay, it was petty of her. But come on, after everything she had done today, she’d earned this.

“Why are you protecting her?” Witch Hunter shouted, waving her now doused torch in anger. “Do you even know what she’s done?”

“That doesn’t mean she should be lit on fire!” Ladybug countered.

“Sure, it does!” Chat Noir exclaimed from his position. “Like the old rhyme: Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“That’s right!” Came a shout.

“Burn the witch!” Came another.

“AVENGE MY MARSHMALLOW!”

Ladybug groaned. Right, right. You couldn’t argue with an angry mob. It was a waste of time and only made them angrier.

“Chat!” She groaned. “You’re a hero! This isn’t what heroes do!”

But he remained firm. “Ladybug, I don’t want to fight you. But Lila is only getting what’s coming to her. She’s helped Hawk Moth. She’s hurt my friends. She tried to get you killed!”

He clenched his fists in anger.

She started in surprise. She knew these things, yes. But she hadn’t realized just how much her partner had been affected as well.

It was no wonder he fell to Witch Hunter.

“She fooled me, too.” He growled, bitter in his admission. “I trusted her so many times and only got burned. Even when you warned me, I didn’t listen and people only got hurt because of it. And still I gave her second chance after second chance and I’m tired of it!”

Even under the effects of Witch Hunter’s influence, she could hear the raw hurt and anger. As kind and trusting as Chat could be, he had negative feelings as well—she knew that better than anyone. He hid them, but they were there.

And right now…

She could tell that this was really how he felt.

“Chat…” She started.

“I won’t fight you, my lady.” He told her, backing away. “I just want to see justice done and the removal of a threat.”

Well, she supposed that was the best she could hope for.

“Shouldn’t you be untying me now?” Lila demanded in annoyance as she wiggled at her post.

Unfortunately, Lila had chosen a rather inopportune time to remind everyone she was still there.

If the situation were different and Lila was almost literally ANYONE ELSE, Ladybug may have considered it. But the fire was stopped and Lila was safe, if only for the moment. Attempting to directly rescue the girl would only leave herself vulnerable to the akuma and open to further sabotage from Lila.

She had to focus and deal with the akuma now.

“Rose, this isn’t like you!” It was fruitless and she knew it, but she still had to try to get her friend to see reason.

But it was clear the girl was too angry and the akuma was having none of it.

“She doesn’t deserve protection!” Witch Hunter snapped, holding out her scroll and letting it unfurl.

Realizing what she was about to do, Ladybug charged.

“Lila stole the book from Mr. Agreste and nearly caused Adrien to be taken out of school!”

She knew that, she thought as she ducked a punch.

“Lila was hiding in Paris for months while pretending to have been traveling around the world!”

She knew that as well. Another punch dodged.

“Lila helped Hawk Moth as Volpina on Heroes Day!”

And that. She tried to make a grab for the scroll but missed.

“She manipulated her way into Adrien Agreste’s house!”

That too. She jumped back several feet when the akuma made a counterattack.

“She framed Marinette and got her expelled!”

She was Marinette and she knew that.

At this point, even with the reminders of all of Lila’s past misdeeds being brought up, Ladybug couldn’t find it in herself to be angry. She wasn’t even surprised at any of the claims.

Was there really anything Lila had done that she didn’t already know about? Or that she didn’t already believe Lila to be capable of?

“C’mon, Ladybug!” Chat called out to her imploringly. “You already know how bad Lila is. Can’t we just get rid of her and save Paris the trouble?”

“It’s only justice!” Witch Hunter shouted, pointing to Lila.

Lila, for her part, tried to shrink back as far as the pole and her bindings would allow.

“That’s not justice, Rose. That’s just revenge.” Ladybug replied, in perhaps the first true bit of feeling she’s had since this battle started. “If we let someone suffer just because we didn’t like them, could we really be called heroes?”

“SHE HURT ME!” Witch Hunter shrieked. “She LIED to me! She TRICKED me! SHE USED ME!”

“That makes her a monster. But you’re not one, Rose!”

“Hey!” Lila shouted, indignant. “I’M the victim, here!”

Witch Hunter spun on Lila in a rage. “I have your crimes right here, Lila Rossi! You’re the furthest thing from a victim and any court would agree with me.” She smirked, shaking her scroll. “That’s why MY court is the only one that matters right now! And you’ll see that soon enough!”

She spun back to Ladybug with a dark gleam in her eyes before she looked down to the scroll and began reading again. Much more quickly this time.

“Lila tried to sacrifice Marinette as a distraction to save herself! Lila lied to Chris about inventing Freestyle Crash! Lila made a deal with Oni-chan to get her to try and kill Ladybug!”

Ladybug’s eyes widened.

She hadn’t known about that. It didn’t surprise her that Lila would do that, but it was something she hadn’t known.

Okay, she had to take out that scroll before Witch Hunter could find something that WOULD upset her.

“LUCKY CHARM!”

In a swirl of magic, an item formed and dropped into her hands.

“Lighter fluid?” She gaped.

‘Dammit, Tikki!’

“Looks like even the Lucky Charm agrees, m’lady!” Chat called to her, being absolutely NO help whatsoever!

Ladybug felt her eye twitch.

Though at least he wasn’t trying to fight her either, which was a nice change of pace from the other times he’d been put under an akuma’s influence. But still!

“Lila has been acting as a spy for Gabriel Agreste! She’s been using this connection to try and gain influence over Adrien!”

FOCUS!

Ladybug looked around for anything the Lucky Charm could be used with. Because there had to be SOMETHING she could use it for.

Something that DIDN’T involve lighting Lila on fire!

“She’s kept the school from reaching her mother about her absences!”

Think!

“She’s lied to her mother about the school being closed!”

Think!

“She’s lied to her mother about akuma attacks! She claimed that Ladybug and Chat Noir were too incompetent to deal with them and let them run wild for months!”

She felt a flare of indignation at the lie regarding her capability, but forced herself to squash it quickly with the memory of how Lila had tried to disparage her superhero self to Adrien previously. If she could put down a hero she was supposedly “friends” with to a cute boy to make herself look better, it stood to reason she would insult Ladybug in other ways to other unsuspecting people. So no, Ladybug couldn’t be outraged.

Chat, however, was. “Hey!” He snapped, sending Lila a glare. Lila for her part merely looked away with a dark mutter.

Witch Hunter continued. “She’s lied about being Adrien Agreste’s girlfriend!”

Ladybug’s vision seemed to narrow down on Witch Hunter’s scroll.

…..it couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“She was willingly akumatized! TWICE!”

Screw it.

“She’s a liar! She’s evil! She’s horrible!” Witch Hunter shouted, growing only more frustrated angry. “SO WHY DO YOU KEEP PROTECTING HER?!

Good question. There’s no single clear answer, but it was a good question.

And in the midst of Rose’s growing fury, she was caught up in her own feelings that she had stopped really paying attention to her surroundings.

Taking advantage of the akuma’s distraction, Ladybug threw out her yoyo, wrapping it around her.

“Hey!” Witch Hunter cried out as her arms were pulled towards her body in an awkward angle that left the scroll in easy grabbing range.

Ladybug lunged and within seconds, had grabbed her arm that held the scroll with one hand and pulled the scroll from her grip with the other. She didn’t want to risk splashing Rose, after all. With Witch Hunter tied up and unable to stop her, she poured the lighter fluid on the scroll. And then—

“Lightning Dragon!”

It was only her hand that was covered with electricity. She didn’t need too much power. Just enough to create a few sparks. And when those sparks hit the scroll where the fluid had soaked through…

It only took a couple of seconds

“NO!” The akuma shouted as the scroll caught aflame.

And as the scroll started to burn, a black butterfly escaped.

Ladybug didn’t even bother with her normal catchphrase as she simply caught and purified the akuma. After everything that had happened, she just wanted this day to be OVER.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the butterfly was released—now pure white—and Witch Hunter changed back into a confused Rose.

“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!”

The flash of light and loveliness of ladybugs brought with them a sense of relief to Marinette. All signs of the festival were cleaned away. What few people remained were looking around in confusion, as if unaware of what they had just previously been attempting to do. The stand and pyre Lila had been trapped on vanished. Lila herself was sent sprawling to the ground with a loud “oof!” in an act that may have been just a little petty on the part of the Cure.

Not that Ladybug was going to complain.

The Cure seemed to finish with Ladybug herself, which hopefully meant that Tikki would be back to normal once she detransformed. Though she wasn’t in a position to check just yet. She had a few other things to attend to first.

One of which being the liar herself.

Now free of her bindings and no longer under attack from an akuma or angry mob, Lila seemed much more confident—if not still somewhat shaken. She took to brushing herself off and trying to straighten her still damp and disorderly hair.

Lila sniffed and glared at the heroine.

“Here to lecture me again?”

She wanted to.

Oh, how she wanted to.

There was so much she wanted to say to the lying little witch. And after the day she had, she really wanted nothing more than to just full on RANT at her. As Marinette or Ladybug. Or both. She probably had two or three more good rants in her before Hawk Moth could scrounge up another akuma to target her. She could air some of those well-warranted grievances.

Except…

“No.”

Lila raised an eyebrow at that. “What?”

"No. I'm not going to lecture you. It'd simply be a waste of time at this point. Because if after everything that's happened today none of that has gotten through to you, then there's clearly nothing I could say that would."

She blinked. “So…you’re giving up?”

Ladybug leaned over Lila, looking…much more fearsome than the other girl had ever seen her. More than she had ever appeared to anyone.

“Let’s make something clear, Lila. I know you are a horrible person. I am fully aware that there are no lows you wouldn’t sink to. I know you’ve worked with Hawk Moth of your own free will and the only reason I’m not going to police and having you escorted from the city is simply that I don’t yet have proof you wouldn’t lie your way around and quite frankly, I trust you less out of my sight.”

Lila backed away.

“What…what are you saying?”

The hero clapped her hands together, looking eerily cheerful. “I’m saying that you and I are going to be spending much more time together! I will be watching you every day of your stay here in Paris. I know you’re connected to Hawk Moth, after all, so that’s all the more reason to keep you around.” Ladybug smiled. “Just think about it. I’m going to be aware of you at all times. When an akuma shows up, you’ll be the first person I’m looking for. If anything goes wrong, you will be the one I’ll know to be in the middle of it. Where you go, who you interact with, anything you do…I’m going to be right there.”

Ladybug’s grin was practically feral.

“You, Lila Rossi, are going to be my new. Special. Friend.”

Lila blanched, her eyes wide. “Y-you can’t do that! That’s stalking! I’ll—I’ll tell everyone you’re harassing me!”

Ladybug laughed. “Oh, Lila…”

She leaned forward and wrapped an arm around the liar’s shoulders.

“You said it yourself in your interview, remember? As far as anyone else is concerned, I’m only spending time with my best friend.” She said, poking Lila in the cheek as she reminded her of her own words.

Lila paled.

With her arm still around Lila to keep her from trying to pull away, Ladybug shrugged and gestured with the other arm. “And sure, you could admit to everyone that our friendship was a lie. But that would require you to admit that you DID lie. And which of those stories sound more realistic, do you think? That teen model Lila Rossi is being stalked by a superhero after she lied about being that hero’s best friend? Or that Ladybug is keeping a protective watch over a civilian who was foolish enough to claim a connection to her so that said civilian doesn’t herself get killed by a supervillain?”

She gave Lila a deadpan stare.

“After all, given what happened today, it doesn’t look like you’re Hawk Moth’s favorite accomplice anymore. There’s no telling how much you know…or what he could do to make sure you can’t reveal how much you know.”

Ladybug tried not to take satisfaction in the fact that Lila was starting to tremble.

“But I guess that’s what happens when you work with criminals for petty reasons.” She shrugged before smiling broadly. “That’s why it’s such a good thing that I will be going well out of my way to protect you. From anything. Ever.”

“But—”

She continued to gush. “And if that protection involves hunting you down during every akuma attack—or anything that I even suspect could become an akuma attack to get you out of the way…well, I'm just making sure my DEAR FRIEND Lila is safe. Sure, I tend to be in a rush, so I might be a little rough when I find a good hiding place for you...."

Ladybug tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“How do you feel about closets? Lockers? The sewer? Maybe another dip in the Seine since you seemed to handle it so well this time? Just to make really sure?”

Lila’s look of sheer disgust was all the answer she needed.

“Whether it’s an akuma attack or a squirrel, I promise to keep you safe. Day and night. Anywhere you go. For as long as this threat to you persists.” She swore, admiring Lila’s expression of growing anger.

“How about it, ‘Bestie’?” She finished with a giggle, drawing Lila even closer to her and tapping Lila’s nose. Perhaps she was enjoying this too much?

Still, this finally seemed to be enough for Lila as she slapped Ladybug’s hand away and shoved out of her grip.

“You don’t scare me!” She shouted this, but her voice quivered and her hands were shaking. “I’ll tell everyone! I’ll turn everyone against you! I’ll make you sorry!”

“There are so many reasons that would be a bad idea, the least of which being that you’ll open yourself up to an attack by Hawk Moth. But well, if you want to try it anyway, by all means go ahead!” Ladybug chirped. “I mean, really…”

Her eyes narrowed as she gave a rather evil smile.

“Who’ll even believe you?”

Lila gave a rather high pitched screech before storming off.

Ladybug smiled brightly as she waved. “Ciao! See you later, Lila!” She kept it up for a few more seconds until Lila was well out of earshot, at which point she immediately dropped the facade and glowered at the girl’s retreating back. “And it’ll be all too soon.”

“Ladybug?”

Oh right! She forgot for a moment there were still others.

She turned to see a worried-looking Chat.

“Did we…?”

She shook her head and he seemed to slump in relief.

“Oh. Good. That’s…that’s good.”

Yeah. She didn’t want to consider how Chat or anyone else would react if they learned they had killed someone.

A sniffle drew the attention of both to a particularly upset Rose. She appeared to be a mix of sad and horrified. Tears were spilling and she appeared a mess.

“I’m…so sorry!” She sobbed, rubbing at her eyes helplessly.

“It’s not your fault, Rose.” Ladybug rested a hand on her shoulder. “You were upset and you had every right to be.”

But Rose shook her head insistently. “No! If I hadn’t believed her…if I had just checked with Prince Ali first, none of this would have happened! And now…” She gave a sob. “Ali hates me! And so many people were lied to! They’ll be disappointed and their money was stolen and it’s all my fault!”

“You didn’t know.” Chat told her. “You thought you were doing the right thing.”

Rose sniffed. “But what seemed like the right thing really wasn’t.”

Something about that made Chat wince. “Yeah…”

“You can’t change what happened, but you can take steps from here.” Ladybug told her. She drew back from Rose and tapped her chin, thinking for a moment.

An idea struck and she snapped her fingers. “Since this was for a charity, didn’t you keep a ledger of the funds you received?”

Chat brightened. “Hey, yeah! You can use that log to note how much was stolen and take it to the proper authorities. That way, you can try to get the funds back.”

Rose seemed to calm as she considered the idea. She sniffed and wiped away a few tears.

“It’s worth a try. Thank you.” She gave a weak smile. “It doesn’t fix everything, but it’s at least an option.”

“You’re a wonderful person, Rose. Don’t let this change that.”

Rose smiled back at her. And for a moment, it truly felt like everything would be all right.

Then her earring gave a final beep and her transformation gave out.

Rose squeaked in shock and covered her eyes. Chat, for his part, spun around in an attempt not to see. It was heartwarming that they were so considerate of Ladybug’s privacy. Even Tikki gave a little gasp once she was free and flew to hide behind her. Fortunately, to her relief as she patted herself down in a panic, it was only her Ladybug transformation that had given out. The Dragon Miraculous was still very much activated and in effect.

“I’m okay. Sorry to worry you.”

Chat took a glance over his shoulder and gave a smile. “Perhaps we should cat-ch up another time.”

Talking was indeed not a free action. And while she had dealt with the akuma fairly quickly, she had spent a little too much time dealing with Lila.

….still worth it, though.

“Bug out!” She called as she took off.

_____________________

The Dragon Miraculous was different than what she was used to. The Ladybug Miraculous in combination with it had mitigated some of the differences, but they were still there. And now it was even more pronounced with her other transformation gone. It felt heavier. Her movements seemed more forceful. And there was an undercurrent of some feeling reminiscent of static that seemed to cling to her. Plus, she was without her yoyo, so traveling took a bit longer.

Once she had made it back to the bakery and was sure she was out of sight of everyone, she hopped over to her balcony and back into the safety of her room.

She waited for a minute, listening carefully to make sure no one would catch her. Then she sighed in relief and detransformed, leaving just Marinette with two kwamis in her room.

“Thank you, Longg.”

The Dragon gave a simple bow. “It was my honor.”

“I’ll make sure to return you to Master Fu later.” She promised him as she took off the choker and put it back in his box.

“Then until we meet again…” He said in farewell before disappearing.

Leaving her alone with Tikki.

Dead silence followed. Neither seemed willing to speak. What could she even say after what she did?

‘I’m sorry?’

But she wasn’t.

‘I was wrong?’

But she had only spoken the truth.

‘I shouldn’t have done that?’

But she…she didn’t regret it.

She should regret it. She knew she should. It was mean and cruel of her and she knew she shouldn’t have let her anger get the best of her…

And yet…

She’d just wanted to air her grievances for once.

…but she’s Ladybug.

Ladybug has to be the bigger person.

Ladybug has to do the right thing.

Always.

She sighed. “Tikki—”

“I’m sorry, Marinette.”

That wasn’t expected.

“Wait—what?” She gaped.

“I’m sorry.” Tikki repeated. She was floating in front of her, but appeared so weighted down. She had never seen the ancient being look so sad.

“What’s going on, Tikki?” Marinette held her hands out in front of her, allowing Tikki a place to perch. The kwami accepted the offer and the comfort that came with it, nuzzling into Marinette’s thumb.

“I meant what I said before.” Tikki told her. Which…was an answer without actually answering anything.

“Before?”

Tikki seemed to slump in on herself. “You have every right to feel angry.”

Wait…wait…wasn’t that…?

Marinette gasped. “You remember?”

Tikki nodded, looking miserable. “It’s blurry at times. I remember being angry. I remember why. I remember some of the things I said…”

Marinette looked away, fumbling for something to say or some way to respond to that revelation. “W-well…I mean…it wasn’t really you—”

“It was.” Tikki admitted.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean it—”

“I did.”

Marinette tensed.

“Please don’t tell me you still want me to light Lila on fire.”

She just couldn’t deal with anything else at this point! She just couldn’t!

Fortunately, Tikki looked horrified at that. “What?! No!”

"Maybe a teensy bit? You know, liar liar pants on fire?"

“NO!”

She sighed in relief. “Oh, good.”

Honestly, she’d had more than enough of that. It was like the world was telling her it was okay when she knew it wasn’t. And with every stunt Lila pulled and each person who tried to reassure her that Lila’s reign was over and she would finally be getting some comeuppance…

It was everything she’d been wanting to hear. Everything she had wanted to have happen. But it was all taken to such an extreme and it was only happening at all because of an akuma, so she couldn’t even feel relieved or vindicated because it didn’t feel real.

It wasn’t fair.

It was hardly simple temptation. It was like the world was trying to tell her to take what she wanted in the worst way she could and that nobody had to know. Or care.

But she would.

And while she certainly wasn’t inclined to go along with it, Marinette was just…tired by the end.

Exhausted, actually.

Not because she was tempted, but because she was just done with having to be the responsible one in the situation where everyone seemed intent on pushing her to do the wrong thing.

“Marinette?”

Tikki’s concern broke her out of her thoughts. The little kwami was looking up at her in worry, her little hands resting on Marinette’s thumb.

“I’m fine, Tikki.”

Tikki, for her part, only gave a small smile.

“I’m really proud of you for how you handled today.”

How could Tikki say that? She let her anger take over. She used the opportunity to truly let loose her feelings against Lila. And yes, she had been needlessly petty in some of her responses. She wasted time yelling at Lila as Marinette, which allowed Chat to find them and take Lila to the mob—not that they had known he was one of them at the time, but still! And then as Ladybug, she had wasted more time with Lila to the point her timer had run out and her transformation had dropped when she finally tried to comfort Rose.

Marinette winced. Those…weren’t really things to be proud of. “I yelled at Lila. Twice.”

“But you helped her more times.” Tikki countered. “Even when you didn’t have to. And Lila getting caught in the end was on her. From the sounds of it, she had multiple chances for safety and ended up losing them all because she kept trying to lie and hurt people instead.”

Well, that wasn’t untrue. How much of this could have been resolved so much faster if Lila had just stayed in the closet where Marinette put her? Or if she hadn’t tried to manipulate Luka and Anarka? Or if she hadn’t tried to betray Marinette to the mob? Or if she just didn’t lie about the charity in the first place?

Yeah, there was a lot of things that Lila had done to kind of bring misfortune upon herself.

“But it’s still my fault Lila was like this in the first place. I called her out as Ladybug the first day I met her because I was angry with her lying about being my friend to get close to people only to turn around and badmouth me to make herself look better.”

Which, looking back, probably hadn’t been that big of a deal. Surely no one would have thought less of Ladybug regardless of what Lila claimed—especially for a supposed “famous hero” like Volpina was supposed to be when she’d never even been heard of before. If anything, maybe this claim would have led a hero-fanatic like Alya to look into things and discover Lila was lying sooner?

Tikki frowned. “What Lila did wasn’t your fault!”

Marinette covered her face with her other hand. “But I embarrassed her in front of Adrien! No wonder she hates me!”

Tikki wasn’t having it though. “She embarrassed herself because she lied and was caught. And it would have been worse and more embarrassing if it had gone on longer.”

“If I had just kept my mouth shut…”

“Would it have really changed anything?” Tikki asked.

That…made her look up in surprise. “Well, she wouldn’t have a grudge against Ladybug.”

“Not calling her out then might have prevented her from considering Ladybug an enemy, but it wouldn’t have stopped her from lying and using people.” Tikki reasoned. “And it wouldn’t have stopped her from helping Hawk Moth if she thought he could give her something she wanted.”

True…Lila had agreed to work with Hawk Moth for revenge against Ladybug. But even if she hadn’t made herself a focus of Lila’s anger, sooner or later, someone was bound to call Lila out on her lies. And once Lila felt slighted, she would no doubt target them as she had Ladybug and Marinette.

She closed her eyes and took a breath as the realization really took hold.

The only one responsible for Lila’s actions was Lila. She chose to lie. She chose to do things that hurt people. And if this entire day should have taught Marinette anything, it’s that doing nothing and letting Lila continue only caused more harm in the long run.

After all, Rose hadn’t done anything but believe in Lila and try to help her. And yet she was still hurt. Even more than Marinette had been as either herself or Ladybug.

“And how long would it have taken, do you think, for Lila to covet the Miraculous for herself regardless?” Tikki asked. “You had something she didn’t. She was already using and trying to undermine Ladybug to promote herself before even meeting you. She was already pretending to have a Miraculous before she even knew what they were or what they could fully do. Do you really think that she wouldn’t have decided to work against you anyway simply because Ladybug had something she didn’t?”

“But…” Marinette seemed to struggle for a moment. Because it couldn’t just not be her fault at all. She had upset Lila and caused her to target her in the first place—on both sides of the mask. “I still could have done better. You always push me for that.”

Even if Lila was in the wrong, that didn’t make what Marinette did right.

Tikki tilted her head, looking up at her human.

“I expect the best from you because I know you’re a wonderful Ladybug. I hold you to higher standards than anyone else because I care about you so much. But sometimes…the expectation and burden can be too much. And I know I haven’t always been the most supportive of you.”

Marinette jumped at that. “What? What are you talking about? Of course you have!”

Tikki shook her head. “There were times when I’d admonish you for doing the wrong thing, but I didn’t really tell you what the right thing was because I expected you to be able to figure it out and do it on your own.” She gave a little bitter laugh. “I somehow expected you to automatically know what I wanted and blamed you when you didn’t meet my expectations…”

Oh come on. Marinette gave a little laugh. Now Tikki was just being silly. “No, you haven’t. When did you ever—”

“Like with the school picture when you tried to help Juleka? Or the lie you told on Heroes Day? What about when you were almost akumatized after being expelled? Marinette, something terrible had just happened to you and you had every right to be upset! But instead of comforting you when you needed it—especially when it seemed like everyone else was against you—all I did was lecture you for how you were feeling!” Tikki wilted at the reminder. “I disapproved, but I didn’t really help you. I didn’t really support you the way you needed.”

She looked up at Marinette, her eyes big and teary. And somehow so old.

“I forget sometimes just how young you are. And that you’re just as capable of making mistakes.”

“But Tikki, I have made some bad choices.” Marinette stammered. “I’ve been selfish and acted rashly. I’ve done things because I was angry or jealous.”

“You’re not blameless for your choices.” Tikki agreed. “But you’re also not responsible for everyone else’s. You’re not wrong for feeling upset when you’re being hurt.”

She hugged Marinette’s thumb.

“And I’m sorry for making you feel like you were.”

It was like a huge weight came crashing down.

No, rather that a weight she was carrying was finally loosened and falling from her shoulders.

It…

Was this…really the first time anyone had supported her like this?

When was the last time someone had validated her feelings?

She had been Ladybug for over a year now. In all that time, it had become ingrained in her that she had to be perfect. That she couldn’t make mistakes. That anything she did could mean the end of the world—literally, in the case of the future she narrowly avoided with Chat Blanc.

People needed her.

Paris needed her.

She couldn’t afford to make mistakes.

That was why any mistake she did make—or even the actions of others seemed to weigh so heavily on her.

She had to be Ladybug. She had to be the final line of defense in facing any akuma. She had to be incorruptible lest she risk irreparable harm. But she also had to be Marinette, who also had to be there for her friends and make them happy and be Class Rep and fix their problems and protect people from Chloe or Lila or akumas. She had to be responsible and fix her mistakes and apologize and make things up to other people regardless of what she did or what they did. But she also had to be the support for Master Fu and learn what he knew as the Guardian in case anything happened to him and…

Wow. That was a lot.

That was…that was more than she’d realized.

She started to feel her eyes well up. But she couldn’t let them free. Because that meant she was…because what if…because Hawk Moth could…?

A tap to her head drew her gaze to her kwami.

“I’ll protect you.” Tikki promised, giving a kiss to Marinette’s forehead.

“So please…be honest with me.”

It wasn’t the first time Marinette had let herself cry.

But it was the first time she truly felt safe to.

#ml fic #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #witch hunter #BURN THE WITCH!#marinette dupain cheng #rose lavillant #Lila sucks #chat noir #tikki #marinette and tikki #ml angst #ml humor #ml salt #ml catharsis

534 notes · View notes

lacrimaomnis · 3 years

Text

BRF Reading, 20/7/2021 (Part 1 of 3)

Background: This is the one question that drives me to pick up the tarot and learn to read myself. Some of you might be reminded of three spreads @celticcrossanon did on Archie, and yes, this is partly inspired by those spreads. I asked this question again because the first time I tried to read about it, I got the feeling of my stomach churning and it was so bad I wanted to throw up, so I thought: there must be something. Am I scared to do this reading the entire time? Yes, I am very much scared because I'm afraid the cards will show me something I don't want to see. But as you can see, the curiosity killed the cat. I am that cat.

A fair warning though, this reading might veer into the conspiracy theory realm. Is it hard to believe? It is. Just because I read tarot doesn't mean I believe in conspiracies. I find it difficult to believe what I read because it challenges all the established facts that were particularly established by the existence of the birth certificate.

This is the first of three spreads.

As written, this is merely a speculation and therefore must be taken with a grain of salt. This speculation is not true until proven otherwise.

My question is, does Lili exist?

Cards drawn: Page of Pentacles, Queen of Pentacles, Page of Swords, Four of Wands, Five of Cups, Eight of Cups, Page of Cups Underlying energies: Nine of Wands, Queen of Cups

Summary: I have my "yes, I do exist!" card, which is the Page of Swords, but with it came another two Pages. This reading is confusing at best and is just nonsense straight out of the realm of conspiracy theory at worst.

First card: Page of Pentacles. As a birthday card, in my deck, this card is associated with birthdays between December 22 to December 28. Zodiac wise, Pentacles represent the earth signs: Taurus, Virgo, or Capricorn. If we are to believe the information given to us, Lili was born on 4th June, which means she is an air sign, particularly Gemini -- but this card as the first card drawn immediately made me doubt if she is indeed delivered on 4th June because this card suggests otherwise.

This card suggests to me that Lili is a Capricorn because this card is associated with birthdays between December 22 to 28, but that just does not make sense. If she was delivered on 4th June, and assuming all are normal (9 months pregnancy, nothing is out of the ordinary), then she should've been conceived at least 9 months before June, which should be around September last year. Barring anything that could go wrong, it is impossible to have her born in December, just 3 months after being conceived -- because if she was indeed born in December last year, she doesn't exist, the woman who carried her miscarried.

What is not impossible, however, if she is delivered later than 4th June. Here is where I veer into the realm of conspiracy theory. My understanding of how each person is assigned into a zodiac is rudimentary at best, so please do bear with me. If this card is to be believed, then Lili should have been born around December 22 to 28 this year. If again, we assume normal pregnancy for whoever carried her (9 months, no early delivery, yadda yadda), then she should've been conceived around March this year. This interpretation implies that Lili is still not here yet. Which is impossible, because we have her birth certificate.

Whichever theory you choose to believe, neither of them makes sense to me. Both are equally impossible. I ruminate a lot around this card because this is the card in the first position, and for me, anything than the Page of Swords in the first position indicates an answer other than "yes, she exists". I think I even remember the controversies around the supposed birth certificate, but the only thing I remember from it is that Harry was listed as HRH something something.

Second card: Queen of Pentacles. Who are you? What are you doing here? How do you relate to this reading? If you are not Meghan, then who are you?

Queens typically represents feminine energy, and Queen of Pentacles is the ultimate embodiment of a motherly figure. She is practical, secure, motherly, and wise. In my deck, she is illustrated as a woman wearing a crown and holding a rabbit inside her arms; a symbol of fertility and family.

I was just...who are you? You are a woman of the earth signs. You are not Meghan. Are you the surrogate people have been seeing in their cards and have been suspecting? Do you confirm to me (even when I don't ask) that Lili is born from your womb and not Meghan's? What do you want to tell me? Are you even a person? My gut says you represent someone, but who are you?

Third card: Page of Swords. This is the absolute "yes, I do exist!" card for Lili if she is indeed born on 4th June. Sadly, this card is not the first card of this spread -- that spot was filled with the Page of Pentacles. Page of Swords is the card of "words and ideas" rather than "feeling and intuition". She (the pages in my deck are all drawn as young women) is associated with messages and messengers and can also manifest as gossip, which made me think about the buzz around Lili's birth. There were a lot of hearsays and speculation before and after her birth, particularly because of the distasteful choice of the name her parents given her.

Now, in my reading, there are several Cups cards (Five, Eight, the Page). If this card comes up with several Cups cards, this card is particularly hard about honesty. This caused me to think: is there any dishonesty on Meghan's part from the announcement of pregnancy and until Lili is born?

Fourth card: Four of Wands. Again, this card seems to come up a lot lately. This card is closely associated with the elements of home and family. It is about a new life, new success, and prosperity. In this spread, this card is about the "immediate future".

Fifth card: Five of Cups. This is the pair for the Four of Wands. This is the card of grief, loss, and negative thinking. This card signifies difficulty and loss, and as it is the pair of the Four of Wands, could this signify that the loss was about a family member? An element of home?

The only thing I can think of is that the readings saying either whoever that carried Lili miscarried or something happened to Lili that involves a loss so difficult that Meghan mourned as if she lost Lili.

Sixth card: Eight of Cups. The card of walking away, leaving the situation, and leaving things behind. This card heralds change and transition, prompted by dissatisfaction, unhappiness, or because it is that time to take that leap of faith. This could mean turning away from a present situation even if you have invested a lot of money and energy into it, just because it is time to move on.

This card comes in pair with the Page of Swords. This may tell us that we will hear of new rumours surrounding this child to turn our attention away from the distasteful choice of her name (which is entirely her parents' fault, she is in no way responsible for something she didn't have the power to choose) -- that book by Harry? An alternative interpretation is that Lili is left behind, people walking away from her because she disappointed them, whatever the reason was. I really really hope this was not the case.

Seventh card: Page of Cups. This card is about creativity, new projects, and inspiration, but also about immaturity, escapism, and emotional troubles. This card comes as the pair of the Queen of Pentacles: if the Queen of Pentacles is the surrogate, could this mean that carrying Lili caused her turmoil and emotional troubles?

Underlying energy 1: Nine of Wands. This is the card of being wounded, to hold your ground, and of resilience. This card often indicates that the querent must hold their ground against all the challenges thrown their way. This card may also speak of a recent illness. Was Lili ill? Is she ill? Was whoever carried her suffered from illness?

Underlying energy 2: Queen of Cups. This is the card of virtue, fertility, creativity, success, and power, but also of an inability to connect emotionally, a lack of empathy, and stress -- and this is coming across as Meghan. She perhaps might be stressed, she might perhaps is in a disconnect with Lili? If looked at from the Queen of Pentacles angle, the Queen of Cups further emphasised that Meghan, represented by the Queen of Cups here, might not be fertile or healthy enough to carry Lili full term, which further reinforces the Queen of Pentacles represents the surrogate analysis. Combined with the Nine of Wands, I am inclined to say that either Meghan is in distress and might not be able to connect with Lili, who needed her mother the most at these moments, or that Meghan might not be healthy or fertile enough to have a baby and carry it full term.

Conclusion: This reading tells me absolutely nothing I want to hear, but rather it makes me question things that are already established (I'm looking at you, Page of Pentacles). Nothing makes sense. I got an answer to a question I didn't even ask (that Queen of Pentacles) if that counts as an answer. Just as I feared, the cards showed me something I did not want to see, because I don't see anything that tells me "yes, this baby exists, she is healthy, and she is loved by her parents".

#reading: brf #g reads

35 notes · View notes

hasereshdoneanythingwrong · 3 years

Text

A Beast Unknown

Faye was exhausted. Every muscle in her body hurt. Every movement, every action, every thought sent shocks of pain throughout her body. All of this suffering, this agony, was because of one decision. Eresh asked for a workout buddy.

Now normally, one would look at Ereshkigal and go “huh, she can’t be that strong. Look at her average physique and her smaller stature.” Those people would be wrong, because underneath everything, Eresh is ripped. Not building heavyweight power lifter-ripped, but extremely toned.

Under that luxurious black dress lay an abdomen that you could grate cheese against. The sleeves of her outfit hiding a deceptively strong upper arm, not even going so far as to mention her legs. Needless to say, Ereshkigal was in a league very few at Chaldea were members of, and as such, finding someone to workout with tended to be an issue.

Faye: You want me to work out with you? Do you even need to work out?

Eresh: Of course a Goddess like myself doesn’t need to exercise….but I enjoy it. It helps to keep me active and regulate my day.

Faye: I can respect that, my Goddess, but why me? I’m just a human.

Eresh: Well…..the thing is……

Eresh made a begging gesture, clapping her hands together and bowing in front of her girlfriend.

Eresh: Someone called Penthesilea cute and no one’s seen her in a couple days. She’s normally my spotter since, you know, we’re both women and both in the same strength class give or take.

Faye: You work out with Penth and want me to join you? My Goddess I love you but that’s a death sentence! I’m nowhere near as strong as you two.

Eresh looked at Faye teary-eyed, her lip trembling. Even before she spoke, Faye felt her resolve waver.

Eresh: Please please pleeeaase Faye! You won’t really have to lift anything! I just need someone to make sure my form is okay so I don’t hurt myself. I promise I’ll pay you back somehow!

Faye thought for a time, the puppy dog eyes of her Goddess/Girlfriend making her knees buckle.

Faye: Fine. I’ll help.

After all, how hard could spotting be? She’d just make sure Eresh’s….assets…were being taken care of and maybe even get a little exercise of her own in. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

At least, that’s what she thought. However events quickly spiraled out of control. It all started in the locker room. The two were changing into their exercise equipment, Faye a modest tank top that covered most of her visible scars but still gave her mobility, as well as some shorts and running shoes.

Ereshkigal, on the other hand, was absolutely stunning. The Goddess of the Underworld changing from her normal, more formal and stuffy attire to a black sports bra and matching black pants with running shoes. Her midriff was partially exposed, showing off her washboard six pack, each muscle defined with the care and complexity of a solid workout regimen. When Faye had looked over to peek at her Goddess, she had found her with her hands above her head, taking her normal twin tails and making them into a single golden high ponytail. As she worked, her muscular arms flexed, every movement sending a ripple through them, and through Faye.

This was a good call.

Those were, at the time, her initial thoughts. She’d soon realize her fatal error. For Ereshkigal, the red angel of the underworld, was as hard a worker in the gym as she was doing her regular duties. Faye could hardly keep up with her, whether it be explosive movements, long, tedious endurance exercises, or the dreaded cardio. Every step, every move was made with a purpose, and one set in a pattern.

Unfortunately for Faye, she was not accustomed to patterns like these, nor was she what some would call “physically fit”. Sure she’d trekked across North America once before, and she’s climbed mountains on occasion, but for the most part that was out of necessity rather than choice. Even still her legs were now made of jelly, uncooperative in every regard.

Faye now lay on her bed, face down, still in her workout clothes. Every part of her hurt far too much to even attempt to remove the sweaty garments. Our of the corner of her eye, Faye caught Eresh, a light sheen of sweat still on her body, walking towards her.

Eresh: I’m sorry, Faye……

Faye mumbled a response into the pillow. No doubt a “you haven’t done anything wrong” but to no avail.

Eresh: I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. I just got into the mindset of working and forgot that you were supposed to be there to help me. Now you’re hurting and it’s my fault.

Faye raised her hand, unsure if the great difficulty in it could be seen or not, and waved Eresh’s worried away. She may not be able to move a lot, but she’d be damned if she let Eresh feel bad about herself’

Eresh: Even like this you’re still trying to cheer me up. What a devoted girl you are. Tell you what, how about I repay you like I promised?

Another mumble from the blob formerly known as Faye. Eresh took that as her cue and climbed onto the bed, straddling Faye’s backside as she placed her hands into her lover’s tense, knotted muscles.

She began to gently yet firmly massage away the stress of their workout. Each push and prod eliciting a moan or groan from Faye as she could do nothing for than sit there. Eresh started and her neck and worked down, pushing out all of the stress and letting blood circulate back into the muscle tissue.

Working down her back and into her posterior arms, Eresh continued her careful assault. Slowly, surely, she was helping Faye, even if it might not have felt like it at the time.

Once she was finally finished, having worked through every tense muscle in Faye’s body, she dismounted the bed and walked forward. She kneeled over to see Faye’s now blissful face, her eyes tired yet relived. The Goddess planted a kiss on Faye’s forehead before whispering in her ear.

Eresh: Thank you, Faye. Get some sleep. I love you.

Tags: @hasishtardoneanythingwrong @hasquetzdoneanythingwrong @haskamadoneanythingwrong @haspaulbunyandoneanythingwrong @hashokusaidoneanythingwrong @hasjalterdoneanythingwrong @havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong

#my mastersona #faye #fayeresh #ereshkigal #my writing #gym fluff!!!!

25 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

for mermay, indruck, 5, sfw? poison could refer to a love potion of some kind, or maybe a blue-ringed octopus (or other poisonous sea creature) mer?

Here you go!

Even with his future sight warning him this would be awkward, Indrid twitches his tail nervously as Juno, the volunteer checking him in to the venom donor clinic, frowns at her intake form.

“See, trouble is, because today’s a mer donor day, most of them give their donations from barbs. You’re gonna have to give from your fangs right?”

“Yes.” Maybe he should just cut his loses, come back on one of the Naga days, and hope no one tries to kill him.

“Volunteers gotta go through special training for milking fangs, so you may have to wait until one of them is available.”

“I do not mind waiting. I came to donate, and I have no urgent engagements. Is there somewhere I can be out of your way?”

Juno smiles, “We got some nice sunny rocks--hold that thought. Duck, you just get here?” She calls this to a human in khaki clothing. His black hair is streaked with grey--matching Indrid’s tail--and his smile is so bright Indrid wants to bask in it.

“Yep! Thacker got to the station a little early so I could clock out sooner. Seems like you got somethin’ I can help with.”

“Sure can. Duck, this is” she glances at the form, “Indrid. He’s a mer, but he needs to donate via fangs.”

“Roger that.” The man holds out his hand, “Nice to meet you, I’m Duck. It’s a nickname.”

Indrid shakes his hand, his visions having taught him this is the correct way to reciprocate the greeting.

“How long can you be outta the water?”

“Quite some time.”

“Great, in that case we’ll just go to the normal milkin station rather than me luggin things down here. Right this way.”

Indrid slithers up the beach behind him, drawing perplexed stares from humans and distrustful ones from the other mers. Duck holds open the flap on a tall, tan tent and Indrid heads inside.

“You ever given venom before?”

“No. I, I am only recently back in the area. When I heard about the program I knew I could be of help.”

“Sure can. Sea krait, right?” Duck gestures to the silver and black of his tail.

“Yes” Indrid smiles; most people just say snake.

“You reptile cousins can really fuck a human up. And who knows, your venom might be one of the kinds they can engineer multiple anti-vemons from.”

“I would like that. I like humans, and wish to help you. It is not your fault so very many things can kill you.”

Duck raises an eyebrow, “what happens if a King Naga bites you? Or even another venomous mer?”

“....I die. Ah, I, ah, see your point.” He smiles, sheepish, “apologies, although I wish to help humans, most of them prefer to stay far away from me, and so my manners are not always what they should be.”

“No harm done. Here,” he steps up onto a short stool, holding out a half circle of plastic filled with strong, astringent liquid, “put this in your mouth and bring your fangs out; we learned we have to disinfect them right before we milk.”

“PHeelphhh” Indrid winces as the liquid stings his senses.

“I know, it ain’t pleasant. Won’t be much longer.” The human stretches a thin sheet of rubber across a shallow circle, checks his watch, and then steps back onto the stool, “okay, when I say open, open your mouth wide so I can slide that one out and get this one in position. Don’t bite down until I say to.”

Indrid nods, opens his mouth when commanded. Even with the disinfectant in his noses, Duck’s scent is overwhelming from so close up; sweat, sunscreen, soap, and something woody that must be his deodorant. He bites down when Duck says, drops of venom pattering into the container. The human keeps one eye on the time, explaining that he doesn’t want Indrid to exhaust all his venom accidentally, thus rendering him vulnerable or unable to hunt.

“Aaaand done, go ahead and put those fangs away.” Duck removes the collection jar, labels it and puts it in a fridge as Indrid stretches his jaw, tensed from giving such a prolonged injection bite.

“Now, we always give donors a thank you; come pick what you like.” He swings open a second fridge. Indrid cocks his head, studying the packs of what he knows to be sushi and the different types of fruit. Flicking out his tongue, he scents something delicious, and picks up a bottle of pink liquid.

“I will have this Guava Juice.” He pops the cap and dips his tongue in for a taste, then for a second and a third. A charming noise enters the air, like a bird who long ago gave up on being dignified. Duck’s laughing.

“Sorry, wasn’t expectin that to be so cute.”

Indrid blushes; that’s not a word generally applied to him.

“Thank you for the juice. And for acomodating me.”

“Any time. Welcome to come back the next time we host a drive.” The human holds the door open for him, waves as he slithers down the sand, sipping his juice.

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

“Hello, Duck.”

Duck doesn’t even turn around before he replies, “Nice to see you back, Indrid.”

This marks the fourth venom donation day the mer has come to, and he always gets paired with Duck. Duck doesn’t mind one bit; Indrid might be alarming to look at, not the elegantly finned, otherwise humanoid creature most people expect a mer to be. His scales appear on his arms and shoulders, and there’s even a patch of them on the back of his neck. His eyes are blood red, his smile wide and a little alarming even without the fangs showing. He’s also sweet, in an odd way, and takes genuine interest in Duck’s wellbeing and daily life.

Honestly, Duck wouldn’t chatting with him at a time when he isn’t jamming venom collection jars into his mouth. But asking to hang out with a patient is weird enough without the added difficulty of that patient needing to be in the water most of the time.

They go through their usual routine, Indrid helping himself to a mango juice this time before waving goodbye.

Two days later, Duck is checking on tree specimens when he senses red eyes on his back.

“You do not want to touch that trunk, there is a very large spider in that knot.”

“Indrid?”

“......no?”

“Just a prescient voice in the trees?”

“Yes. I am a very helpful tree.”

Duck turns in the direction of the river, one that feeds directly into the sea, “You know I ain’t gonna be mad if you wanna talk, right?”

“Of course, it was merely an attempt at a goof.” Indrid comes into view, peeking out from the bushes on the shoreline, “I was curious about your work and wanted to see you in action.”

“Afraid there ain’t much of that. What you’ve seen is kinda the gist of what I do.”

“I find it fascinating all the same. May I continue watching?”

Duck smiles, “Sure.”

Indrid turns out to be excellent company, in that he’s quiet for large stretches of time only to ask Duck about the exact thing he wants to talk about. It’s not until Duck is wrapping up and readying to head inland to the ranger station that Indrid asks an entirely new kind of question.

“You are a long way from home, aren’t you?”

He nods, “Spent decades in my home town, feelin like I couldn’t leave, like I had a responsibility to stay. When the chance to work out here, to try to preserve this fuckin amazin ecosystem, popped up, I decided it was time for a change of scene.”

He shivers as Indrid’s tail pets his ankle and the mer sighs, “I am glad you did.”

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

Indrid becomes a regular work companion after that. Sometimes he arrives with helpful information, like which paths might have tourists in need of assistance or where Duck can find the specimen he’s looking for, other times he comes just to talk or listen. These days, Duck finds himself hoping for the glimpse of silver and black in the water that announces his friend’s presence, and enjoying the appreciative looks he spies Indrid giving him when he thinks his back is turned.

So when something slithers in the bushes behind him, he simply calls out, “What’d you think of those cookies Juno brought in yesterday?”

“I do not know of what you speak, human.”

He whirls, finds a King Naga staring him down. This is probably bad, probably the reason rangers are required to carry a machete or hatchet, but he doesn’t want to be wrong and hurt someone just because they startled him.

“Can I, uh, help you with anythin, sir?”

“Yesss, you can. Be a nice human and stay where you are. I hate having to chasssse my food.”

“Uh” he steps backwards, keeping one eye on the fanged mouth, “that ain’t necessary. Know plenty of places you can get food, if you want.”

“Meager portionssss. And not half assss tempting.”

“Look man, I don’t wanna fight, so please just back off.”

The naga hisses, winding closer at an alarming speed. Then there’s a burst of movement and a flash of silver.

“You stay away from him.” Indrid rises as tall as he can, his body between Duck and the threat.

“Mind your own busssiness, ssseagoer.”

“Someone trying to make a meal out of my friend is most definitely my business.”

“Sssso be it.” The naga lunges. Indrid pushes Duck out of the way and catches his opponent, the force of the strike sending them both sliding down the incline towards the river. The naga outweighs Indrid by a considerable amount, keeps pinning him down only for the mer to wriggle free at the last moment. Duck knows the agreement is humans stay out of Naga/merfolk conflicts, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to sit by and let Indrid get killed for his sake.

Right as he locates a large, hopefully sturdy branch, there’s a tremendous splash. The naga thrashes in the water as he’s pulled downstream. Indrid is underwater, holding his opponent in such a way that, the next time he strikes, he has to put his head beneath the current. Right into Indrid’s waiting grasp. The mer keeps his head trapped as his tail whips back and forth. It’s only when the naga is mostly limp, and Duck afraid he’s just witnessed a murder, that Indrid releases him. The half-drowned creature drags himself onto the shore, slithering away without a second glance at Duck.

“And, and do not come back!” Indrid pants from the shallows, struggling to pull himself back onto the sand. Duck hurries down to him, and Indrid reaches out his hand, concerned, “Are, did, did he hurt you.”

“No, not a fuckin scratch. ‘Drid, pretty sure you just saved my fuckin life.”

“Oh good.” Indrid’s smile is bright, even as his eyes grow blurry, “it is nice to end things with a worthwhile deed.”

Duck sees the puncture wounds in the merman’s arm the instant before he passes out.

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

Indrid wakes up, which is in and of itself a surprise. As is the fact he’s half submerged in water. Rolling over with a groan, he discovers he’s still on the beach where he fought the naga. His bandaged arm aches but is intact, someone has thoughtfully placed a pillow under his head, and there’s a small tent just up the incline. Sound asleep in a sitting position outside the tent is Duck.

He wriggles and crawls his way to the human, arms giving out as he reaches him, which means his head lands in Duck’s lap.

“Huwhazzat? Oh fuck, ‘Drid, you’re up.” Instead of pushing him away, Duck cradles his head and pets his hair, “thank fuck, I was so fuckin worried. Dani said it might take a few days for you to recover but I couldn’t stop worryin.”

“Duck? How long have you been here looking after me?”

“Since you got bit. So three days ago. Sarah got some anit-vemon down for you, and Dani swam up to bring you extra medicine just in case. Oh, and Barclay brought you food, I been tryin to get it into you when you were a little bit awake.”

Indrid manages to sit up, curling his tail around them, “You did not need to do all this for me. I knew the risks when I came to your aid. You did not need to save me in return.”

“Fuck need, I wanted to. You, you mean so fuckin much to me.” Duck strokes his cheek, runs his fingers up his tail, “I missed you so much the last three days, realized how so often the part of my afternoon was you comin to talk to me.”

The futures take an odd turn and Indrid shakes his head to clear them, certain he’s seeing wrong.

“And, uh, and I wanted to ask, uh, when you’re feelin better do you, uh, wanna have dinner with me. Like, uh, on a date?”

“Yes, so very much” Indrid drapes his arms around him, resting their foreheads together.

“Mind if I get a little kiss to tide me over?”

Indrid dips his head down, planting a chaste kiss on his lips before rubbing their cheeks together with a purr, “Apologies, but my kisses must be close mouthed. I’d hate to nick you with a fang.”

“Fine by me.” Duck kisses his shoulders, rubs his tail, “any kind of kiss from you is a goddamn blessin. Besides” he murmurs in Indrid’s ear, “sure we can figure out lots of other things to do together.”

“Absolutely” Indrid purrs, “but for now, would you care to join me for a swim?”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay #mermay fills

21 notes · View notes

lxveille · 3 years

Text

another love song

mk x reader

word count: ~ 2080 warnings: references to alcohol a/n: university!au; another ‘trying to get back into the feel of writing’ fic so... idk ?? tbh it’s more of a fic treatment but here’s what i’m posting anyway

Minkyun has gotten inspiration for his songs from you before. This one is different.

You’re nearly always the first person to place money into Minkyun’s open guitar case when he’s busking.

More often than not, he tries to return your money once he’s packed up for the afternoon - but you refuse, and tell him he earned it. Then he usually spends more on you than you gave by buying you bubble tea or coffee before the two of you trek back to campus.

You’re not sure what you’d do with your Saturday afternoons if not for him.

You’d met Minkyun in a literature class your first year of university. At first it had been easy to write him off as a high school class clown having some difficulty adjusting to university expectations. Except that sometimes, when your professor would really dig into the themes of a text, he’d have something to share that would stick with you. A thought - sometimes chaotically explained - that would rumble around in your brain for a week, even. Eventually, you decided a proper introduction was in order. A fatal mistake, if you’d hoped to keep up some aloof, studious front. He had a way of warming others up, it turned out. You discovered he was friends with a number of people with unfriendly faces who somehow transformed into lighthearted, open books in Minkyun’s presence.

You feel a little lighter around him, too.

And on the days you don’t, he invites you to unburden.

It became a common tableau: you sprawled out, exasperated, on the beanbag chair in his dorm room, ranting about anything that bothered you while he lay on his bed, half-propped up against the wall and strumming occasional notes on his guitar. A last complaint and a final chord, and then Minkyun would be on his feet with an idea of what the two of you should do to shake it out of your system for once and for all. Those plans only sometimes included just enough beer that the both of you were giddy and ready to laugh at anything.

If Minkyun had to name one good reason to get drunk with you, it was this: it was the only time you’d sing. The very first time you let yourself break into song in front of him had been at a bar. It had been difficult to make out your voice over the speakers, but Minkyun heard. Maybe more important, though, was the way you swayed your shoulders and rocked into each syllable.

He would tease sometimes that you ought to join him when he busked. He might make more with you joining in.

“Ah, but then you’d have to split it with me, too,” you’d reply. You assumed, at least, that he must be kidding.

It was spring the first time Minkyun asked you to listen to something original he’d composed. There was something personal about it that had never occurred to you when listening to a song before. For all the times you had watched him play, it was like looking at him from a new angle. Just as his commentary used to linger on your mind, his songs began to do the same.

And in the winter of your second year, he asked if it’d be okay to use some of your own rants as inspiration in songs.

“What?” you asked.

“Just - the way you talk about the guys you’re getting over, and stuff like that. It could make for good lyrics.”

“You’re going to quote me?”

“Well,” he lingered on the syllable, then broke into a dimpled smile. “No. But I don’t wanna take inspiration without telling you!”

So it happened that when he performed songs of his own, you sometimes began to recognize bits of your own infatuations and fallings outs weaved into his lyrics. The way he framed it, it usually made it easier to get over whoever had been behind the heartbreak.

Minkyun isn’t busking today. The drizzle is enough that it wouldn’t be worth it. All the same, he spent the better part of the morning sending you messages asking you to come over.

When you finally cave, you put on a front of unhappiness at the door, shaking out your umbrella before passing it over to his extended hand.

“I brought some stuff for my class so I can try to get work done like I’d planned,” you told him.

He pouted for dramatic flair. “So you’re really just gonna act like you’re at your room at mine?”

“That’s what we agreed to! I told you I wanna get this reading done so I can just be hungover tomorrow without having to worry about Monday’s lecture.”

“Damn, and people try to frame university drinkers as irresponsible.”

“What can I say? I’m flawless,” you comment dryly as you pass into his room.

“So you’re still going out even if the rain keeps up?” Minkyun asks. He settles into his usual spot near the foot of his mattress. You rummage through your bag for a textbook and your printed copy of the syllabus before finding a spot somewhere closer to the pillow.

“Mm,” you affirm, “I think I’m officially entirely over Seungcheol, so it’ll be good for me to go out.”

“Ahhh.” There’s something guttural and mischievous in the way he makes the sound. It’d be fair to expect some ribbing comment on how transparent you could be with these things. No such remark comes.

It’s some time later, when you’re nearly done with your assigned reading, that Minkyun announces that he finished a new song recently.

“Like one of your own?” you ask.

He nods, and adds how he’d been thinking of playing it out this weekend if it hadn’t been for the poor turn in weather.

You exaggerate a gasp. “You were going to share a song with a crowd before sharing it just with me?” There’s no real offence. It’s only a pattern that you’d noticed. Sometimes he’d say it felt needed, if only because he based part of the lyrics’ premise on your own experiences instead of his own.

“I know!” Minkyun laughs airly. “Mother nature said not to, I guess!”

“Well, are you going to play it now then?” You should tell him to wait until you’ve finished this chapter. That way you won’t entirely lose track of things. But you’re not infallible; and if there’s one thing you’re horrible at resisting it’s the chance to hear Minkyun play.

He hops up from the bed to fetch his guitar. And he plays.

It’s a love song, which doesn’t come as a surprise. Minkyun told you from the beginning - or at least when he first asked if he could take inspiration from your own heart’s tribulations - that he liked to write about that feeling. The good, the bad, or at the very least what he imagined of it.

This song doesn’t feel familiar. Usually you can tell when he’s written indirectly about your own affairs. So these endearing words, these syrupy lines of dedication, of patiently waiting for the other one to notice… They must be from his own experience.

A corner of your heart goes sour at that thought, and retorts that it might be one of his other friends. Devoted and hoping it won’t go unnoticed would be right up Yuto’s alley, you tell yourself as your search for a likely suspect. You don’t let yourself think too much on why you don’t want it to be Minkyun’s own feelings.

Except there’s something else that bothers you. The way he keeps his eyes on his strumming fingers, or closes them altogether.

Normally Minkyun looks at you now and then, and smiles at your reactions to his music. Even with the unhappy songs.

You squeeze the textbook in your lap. A corner digs into your palm. He’s somewhere in the second chorus and your mind is fogging over with an irritation. It’s not his fault. You’re not mad at him.

You just wish you had realized you want to fall in love with Minkyun sooner.

The last chord hangs in the air before you can fully process this thought. He looks at you expectantly.

“What do you think?” Minkyun asks.

You force a smile. “It’s sweet.”

He leaves space for you to elaborate. When you don’t, the corners of his lips drag down a bit. “Just sweet?” He repeats. “Is it lame?”

“No! It’s just - it’s different from some of your other stuff. But it’s sweet. I like it. I think, um… I just was expecting it to be something based on my whole recent back and forth thing. Since you wanted to play it for me,” you try to cover for your lackluster response.

Minkyun looks you over for a moment, then chuckles. “Not every song can be about your love life.”

“I know! Of course! Geez, that’s not what I meant,” you rush to say, loudly, as if you needed to cover the sound of some kind of fracture in your heart.

He leans forward to set his guitar carefully on the tiles, its neck leaning against the bed frame. “I guess that’s not totally accurate to say here though.” He shakes his head to get his hair out of his eyes as he looks your way again.

“...What?”

“Ah… You’re pretty clueless, huh?” Minkyun sounds content with himself, and he’s barely holding back a grin.

“I’ve never gone on like that about someone.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You eye him over a few times quickly, trying to reach a conclusion that feels safe. All you can theorize for sure is that he’s practiced this all, and somehow it’s going to plan. Maybe. “What are you on about?” you ask, tone turning suspicious.

He laughs more fully now, then shifts his position to face you directly from the other end of his duvet. “You.”

You glance around him like this could be some hidden camera prank. “What?”

“You,” Minkyun repeats, “It’s about you.”

In the most foolish move of the day, you suddenly felt your throat dry out the same way it does before you cry. It must have been too much at once: to realize a desire and think it ripped away only to have it suddenly offered up so easily, so soon.

“You’re not serious.”

“Is it bad if I am?” he asks, leaning to the right a bit as he watches your reaction. You press your palm to your clavicle, trying to get your heart and your mind in sync. “Am serious, I mean.”

All you can manage is a shake of your head.

Minkyun grins bright and leans forward to put a hand over the one still at your side. “You really didn’t notice?” He pulls off incredulous and teasing in one go. If you weren’t so off kilter, you might want to scold him for it somehow.

“What was I supposed to know?” You ask instead.

He shakes his head. For a fleeting instant, you worry he’s about to brush the whole thing aside. That worry is killed pretty quickly when he leans closer instead and delicately presses an experimental kiss against your lips.

Minkyun is back to his side of the bed in the next moment, nearly like it hadn’t happened at all.

Your hand lifts from your clavicle to allow your fingers to brush over your own lips, still tingly with the affection. Or maybe just from his lip balm rubbing off on you.

He gives you a second more before asking, “Still okay?”

“Um, yeah.”

His smile returns. “Still going out to find someone new tonight?”

“Oh my god.” You cover your face with your hands and accuse, “You’re the worst.”

“So… is that a yes, you are?”

He knows it isn’t.

He’s spent all this time getting to know you. Now he gets to be the one on the receiving end of that look in your eyes.

“Would you stop that?” You muster up as much of a snip in your voice as you can. Your gaze gives away that you’re not really annoyed. It would be difficult to be, given the way your head is still spinning from his confession.

“Stop what?”

The smile on his face suggests he already knows. Nevertheless, you don’t give Minkyun the satisfaction of admitting he’s teasing you. “Just kiss me again,” you swerve to a demand. Frankly, it’s the main thing you’d been thinking since the first. You’ll figure out the rest of your feelings later.

For now, Minkyun is hardly going to deny you that.

#onf scenarios #onf imagines #mk x reader #park minkyun imagine #onf fanfic

40 notes · View notes

obaewankenope · 3 years

Note

Okay so, I have ADHD. I'm 18 and was diagnosed 2 months ago? Maybe one? I don't remember. Anyways, I'm constantly thinking about and bouncing between the "hey it's okay you can't do this, it's not your fault, you just need some extra help and you can do it!!!" and "you're so stupid, just try harder, if you cared enough you'd be able to do it. why are you asking for special treatment and being a burden?" lines of thinking.

And that, especially lately, has led me to hyperfixating on the fear that, hey, maybe even when I do start medication and have finally figured out how to manage this with my therapist... what if I still can't do it?

This is especially difficult when it comes to art. I'm an aspiring artist & illustrator, and the struggle to do something that I love so much is so incredibly frustrating.

And it makes me worry that, even when I am finally medicated and have what I need, and even now when I'm REALLY struggling... maybe the problem is me and not the clearly albeist system I'm forced to work in.

Maybe I don't love it enough. Maybe I'm not as passionate and dedicated and driven to succeed with my art as I think I am. And it is so unbelievably soul crushing to think that because, that's it for me, that's all I can think to do with my life. I don't really have anything else, which I know sounds dramatic but, yeah. And the idea that I might not care for it enough, or that simply caring for it isn't enough, is really messing with me.

Uh so I'm not really sure what I'm asking aside from, WHAT DO I DO? How do I manage this? How do you deal with the imposter syndrome? Help????

Okay so, there's a LOT to unpack here, bean, and we're gonna do it now at 2:39am because why the fuck not, right?

You're 18 which means your brain is still developing. That means you have to deal with the chaotic brain chemistry that comes with growing on top of the chaos of adhd. That sucks.

The whole swings and roundabouts thinking on your ability is, sadly, very common. Too common to be as normalised as it is tbh. The first thought process is the Good One. That's the one that is Accurate To You And Your Needs. The second thought process is the Society Mindset Of Judgement.

I call thoughts like that "brain weasels" - a concept my friend Lily mentioned one day in chat and I just instantly accepted it as reality.

All those bad thoughts, all those moments of "you're a failure" are given a Name in my mind. That is Brian. Brain Weasel Brian. My mother calls them Brain Weasel Paddy.

I heartily advocate that sort of thing. Adopting this method of Attributing A Name to the thoughts that Don't Help You, is a good method of teaching your brain to separate the bad thoughts and the good ones that help.

Sometimes it doesn't work. In my depressive episodes, it doesn't work great if at all. But that happens. Sometimes nothing helps then. Sometimes existing is about as much as I can manage. It's Sucky but it's not permanent.

Rarely, is anything truly permanent. We just tend to think they are.

Next, hyper fixating on fear.

Again, pretty damned normal if also very sucky. Our brains, no matter whether we're neurodiverse or not, are Very Good at remembering the bad and giving up lots of Risk Lists to consider. This mechanism helps us as a species in the wild, of course, but in the world we live in now... well, it's not the best mechanism out there.

We can't stop it, though. It's part of our evolution as humans. We can figure out tricks to help manage it. See, the biggest problem we have with fear and anxiety is we try to push it down and away or we obsess over it. Those are the worst options.

Anxiety and fear have to be imagined to be like smoke. Its there in the air. Its part of it when a fire happens and we need fires for warmth. So anxiety and fear is natural. It's healthy to have both but not so much that we can't function. The mechanism is messing up if we can't function.

Anyway.

Have you ever tried to capture smoke in your hands? It's not possible. You can't cup your hands like you would with water, can't grip it like you would a solid. No. Because smoke is a gas and it moves and shifts and fills up any space it can.

Anxiety and fear are like smoke. They're part of everything and exists because of Reasons and they can be a good thing but can also be a bad thing too.

It can also become too familiar for us sometimes. Like a smoker who lights up and savours the smell of a burning cigarette.

We cling to what we know even if what we know is bad for us. It's human nature. But just because we cling to what we know doesn't mean we can't be brave and let it go. That's human nature too.

We're a species of messy contradictions, after all.

Medication helps the brain chemistry and assists that fear and anxiety mechanism. It's not a cure, contrary to belief, but it will help. Therapy helps you work through things and medication helps settle your brain which will help you further.

Does that mean it's going to fix you? No, because you're not broken. You're different but not broken.

With your art and illustration and your desire to become an illustrator, I can wholly understand the frustration you feel.

But I wonder, does that frustration stem from fear of failure or from feeling so many emotions and not being able to figure out their source?

If its the former, then that's understandable. We all fear failure. But sometimes, it's not failure we actually fear. What we really fear is success. Because we don't know what to do if we succeed. That's a long term thing.

Failure can be immediate and short term. It's something we can think about in the immediate future because our brains are able to follow the tangent of time enough for that.

But success. Success means long term considerations. It means thinking about what comes after. It means considering potential promotions, opportunities, work pieces, connections and so on. It means thinking of those things beyond the short term where our brain's are most comfortable.

ADHD brains are not really built for long term planning. We're good planners for short term things. Good problem solvers. But rarely is it a long term sort of solution we come up with.

Not because we can't, but because we get so mirred in the details, in the What Ifs and the Possibilities that we lose our focus on the Whole Picture. We lose the tangent.

I don't necessarily think you're not passionate enough. Hardly anyone who draws lacks passion. They may lack technique, but passion... That's something any artist needs in my opinion. Even just a spark.

But being able to use that passion, to convey it, now that's the challenge. That's Hard.

Sometimes it's next to impossible.

The thing is, ADHD and Autism make you feel things Deeply and Chaotically. This makes you struggle to process those feelings.

Being a young adult with Expectations and Responsibilities on top of sucky brain growth chemistry just makes that struggle worse.

You may not be able to channel your passion into your art currently, but that doesn't mean you don't have it.

Think of your passion like a tube that's got a blockage in it. The pressure inside is immense but you've got nothing on hand to remove the blockage. It'll take time to develop the tools, to find them, to help. Or. It might have to remove itself.

This doesn't make you lacking in passion. It just makes you temporarily injured in the passion department. We don't blame someone for a sprained ankle resting. Don't blame yourself for taking time off because of this.

Imposter syndrome is... Hard. So, so hard.

I don't have an answer for you about how to handle it. I do a pretty poor job of it myself. I fake confidence, am awful at accepting praise, and constantly feel inadequate. I just hide it really well.

But that's emotion. That's fear and doubt and anxiety. That's societal expectations stoking the emotional disturbance of imposter syndrome.

Logic tells me different.

But logic is hard to believe. Especially when the emotions are very Loud and Distracting.

Sometimes you have to call those doubts and fears for what they are: Brain Weasels.

Sometimes you have to think of it all like it's smoke.

Sometimes you have to sit down and meditate, crossing a mental bridge between reason and emotion to deliver a message to both sides.

We are individuals who pick out pebbles from the river and admire them. Sometimes we keep them. Sometimes we put them back. Most times, we move on. Those pebbles are difficulties, challenges, doubts.

ADHD tends to try and keep the pebbles. Imposter syndrome uses them as building blocks.

Sometimes you have to dig out the foundations and toss those pebbles back before you can start to work on fixing up the rest.

This has become very rambly now, I'm sorry. Its 3:24am and I need to sleep. I do hope this helps in some way, though. If not for you, then for others.

#Kat replies #ADHD #Neurodiversity #Neurodiverse #Autism #Mental health #Disability

43 notes · View notes

ellaenchanting · 3 years

Text

Hypnovember Day 18: Monster

Ellen sat in the back room of the coffeeshop quietly sipping her tea. The other members of the hypnosis meet up group were slowly gathering after their break, chatting and catching up before practice portion of their group officially started. She strategized about what it would be helpful for her to practice tonight. Her traitorous brain eagerly supplied some silly power fantasies. She quickly suppressed them. That kind of stuff wasn’t fair to think about here. It wasn’t everyone else’s fault that she was so warped.

Ellen both loved and hated the group. She wasn’t just into power fantasies- she was genuinely interested in hypnotherapy and doing hypnosis for fun. She had been very surprised to find a local hypnosis practice group existed at all where she could practice her skills and learn more . (It was tiring having to work up the nerve to bug her friends to volunteer to be practice subjects.) Of course, she was the youngest person there and usually the only woman but- that was OK. She had long ago accepted that that most actual hypnotists were middle aged men and she was an odd aberration.

She felt like an aberration in other ways too. Few of the hypnotists here seemed to struggle with nerves in the way she did. Group practice often brought those nerves on . She hated the way they would make her words come out stilted and wrong, her gestures awkward, and her metaphors so mixed up until they ultimately went nowhere. When it got really bad, Ellen’s childhood stutter would return in full force. It felt important and meaningful to her that she got it wrong so often- like she had failed to perform in some cataclysmic way.

It also felt meaningful when she got it right. Ellen would feel proud of herself for her mastery of something and then almost immediately the thought would sneak in- “if only they knew”. It’s not that the hypnosis she was doing with the group had a sexual charge- group members ranged from kinda- to very- not-her-type- but she could only imagine the disgust her subjects would feel if they knew the full range of thoughts she had about hypnosis internally. Or, even worse, if they could see her web browser history. How would they feel being taken advantage of by such a perverted monster?

In a lesser but still meaningful way, Ellen also felt annoyed that she had never quite been hypnotized yet despite many, many attempts. Usually practice time involved pairing up and switching turns being the hypnotist and the subject. Ellen would usually go along with others’ inductions and give them some technical feedback afterwards, but the truth was she rarely felt anything besides plain, comfortable relaxation. She knew there was more- she could see it in the reactions of some of the people she hypnotized and the incredible mental feats they performed. She had evidence that this kind of deep hypnosis existed. She just couldn’t access it herself.

Ellen was shaken out of her reverie by a voice.

““Hi! I heard your name was Ellen?””

She looked up to see the group’s newest member. He was a little older than her- probably mid- to late-twenties- and had a nice dark beard. When she replied with the affirmative, he extended his hand and shook hers confidently.

“Hi, I’m John. Do you have a practice partner yet?”

Ellen and John socialized a bit before starting their practice. This was normal at the meetings- partially because of mutual nerves but also because everyone welcomed the opportunity to geek out about an unusual personal interest. John said that had been doing hypnosis for about 5 years- around the same time she had- but he had already started a stage show and was planning on turning it from a hobby into a career. She was impressed. She found herself feeling surprisingly connected to him. She wondered if he had that effect on everyone he met. If so, it was a neat trick.

When they finally got down to practice, Ellen started by doing a modified Flowers induction. She had come in with the intention of throwing in a lot of language patterns into her induction- she had been drilling her Zeebu cards lately- but an odd change of mood happened as she watched John start to sink into hypnosis. Something about the way he responded to her words, melting and seeming to almost to throw himself into trance, triggered something in her. She found herself hovering closer to him, her voice going softer as she spoke closer to his ear.

She almost reached out and touched his arm when she remembered- no. That would be inappropriate. She caught herself and reminded herself to be professional. She gave John a few generic positive suggestions and then brought him back up out of trance.

John took a surprisingly short amount of time to recover, his expression showing alertness almost immediately. When she remarked on it, he told Ellen that he was actually a very practiced subject- that he had purposefully worked on his ability to be hypnotized. Ellen hadn’t even known that was possible to do- the research she had read strongly suggested that someone’s ability to be hypnotized was pretty static and unchangeable. She confessed to John that she always had difficulty being hypnotized and envied people who could access that state easily. She worked to keep the longing out of her voice as she described her desire for the experience of knowing she was deeply and truly hypnotized.

John paused for a moment after she spoke. He gave her a curious, searching look. Then his face cleared as he seemed to decide on something.

“Hey, do you mind if I try something a bit different?” he asked.

Ellen nodded. She switched positions with him and made herself comfortable as per his instructions.

“Can I touch you?” John asked.

All things considered, Ellen thought she hid her spike of excitement quite well. She nodded again.

John started steadily and confidently speaking to her as he traced a finger lightly up and down her hand. He wanted her to focus on the feeling of the finger going up and down, he said. Ellen gamely focused her attention. It felt nice, that light touch.

John continued to talk to her, telling her she didn’t have to worry about going into trance or getting sleepy or being hypnotized- all she had to do was focus on his touch. That was good- Ellen had historically bad luck with those concepts. She dutifully focused, even as she had some stray thoughts about how amazing John’s voice sounded. John’s fingers started to move to trace her arm up and then back down, all the while continuing to talk to her about focus and enjoying how the touch felt. Ellen still noticed some of the clever words he said, but the specifics were fading. It was all beginning to feel like a general wave of instruction washing over her. She was vaguely aware he was speaking to her more directly now and telling her how good she was doing and enjoyed how pleasant those things were. Suddenly-

“Sleep!”

John’s hand grabbed her arm and pulled it gently downwards. Ellen felt her eyes close as her head nodded forward. Her whole body slumped. Fortunately, John was kneeling in front of her and waiting to catch her. Once he did, he took her shoulder and rocked her deeper and deeper into trance with his words and his touch.

It felt amazing- just like she had always hoped that it would. John finally stopped rocking and took her hand. That gesture felt so right and lovely and perfect that Ellen felt herself quietly moan in response.

And then....she noticed she had done it.

Suddenly thoughts flew back into her mind. What was she doing? Did everyone else hear her? Were they watching her now? Were they realizing what a creepy pervert she was?

Ellen violently sat up, opened her eyes, and yanked her mind awake. Shaken, she took a moment to clench and unclench her hands, reminding herself that she had power over them. She was up. She had control of herself. She was OK.

After a few breaths, she looked around the room and noticed that no one else seemed to be looking at her. She resisted the urge to cry in relief.

She finally noticed John was there, still on his knees and giving her a concerned look. “Ellen?” he asked firmly. “How do you feel? What happened?”

She took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to....I made a noise and I didn’t mean to be...awkward. I’m really sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he replied, going back into a more soothing voice. “Being hypnotized feels good sometimes, yeah? It’s ok to enjoy it. Is that what happened? It felt good in..in a way you weren’t expecting?”

Ellen nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m..weird, I didn’t mean to be weird,” she replied, still very flustered.

He looked at her gently. “You’re not...you’re not that weird. Listen, I get you might not want to talk about this here but- we could talk about it after practice maybe? I think we may have some things in common.”

Ellen thought about everything she had seen about erotic hypnosis online. All the misogyny. All of the shame and degradation people wrote about. She pictured the sexy stage show she had downloaded parts of and how much the hypnotist seemed to relish in people’s genuine embarrassment.

She remembered that she didn’t really know John at all.

“No!” she replied sharply. Then gentler- “I mean, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s OK. I’m OK.”

He nodded. “You are, you know. And it’s OK if you’re....if you’re not ready yet to talk about it. But- “ He made sure she was looking at him as he said the next part. “There’s nothing wrong with you. And- if you do ever want to talk more about it or even ask questions, here’s my card. Call me anytime, ok? I mean it.”

He produced a business card out of his pocket. Ellen hesitated, then took it.

Just then, the leader announced that their practice time was over and moved onto wrapup. Ellen waited for everyone’s attention to be gathered, then snuck out the back on the building. She needed some fresh air. She was done with hypnosis for tonight.

But she thought of the card, still in her jacket pocket, the whole bike ride home.

#Hypnovember #monster #poor lil Ella #I mean Ellen #things will get better #things that never happened to me #but arguably should have

53 notes · View notes

writerfae · 3 years

Text

Incorrect Quotes Tag (take two)

I was tagged by @myhusbandsasemni thank you! ^^

Rules: Use this generator for your quotes

Gonna use my characters from Project: Secret Warriors for this one!

Xander: Not trying to brag or anything, but I can wake up without an alarm clock now simply due to my crippling and overwhelming anxiety, so...

⊳

Nalia: I’ve come to a point in my life where I need a stronger word than fuck.

⊳

Charlie: Well, well, well... if it isn’t my old friend: the dawning realization that I fucked up bad.

⊳

Alisha: If you can’t beat them, dress better than them.

⊳

The heads of the project: Some of you may die, but that’s a sacrifice we're willing to make.

⊳

(just Nalia and Charlie being chaotic together)

Xander: Let me show you a picture from last night that really upset me

Nalia: Okay, but in my defense, Charlie bet me 50 cents I couldn’t drink all that shampoo.

Xander: That’s not what I wanted to- you drank SHAMPOO?!

⊳

*Charlie and Nalia sitting in jail together*

Nalia: So who should we call?

Charlie: I’d call Xander, but I feel safer in jail

⊳

Xander, trying to ask Charlie out: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Nalia: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

⊳

(just Xander loving his chaotic found family)

Xander: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me.

Nalia: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you?

Xander: Yes!

Charlie: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

⊳

(Charlie out here trying to buy Xander xD)

Charlie: If you had to choose between Xander and all the money I have in my wallet, which would you choose?

Nalia: That depends, how much money are we taking about?

Xander: Nalia!

Charlie: 63 cents.

Nalia: I'll take the money.

Xander: NALIA!!!

⊳

Xander: Nalia, can I talk to you for a second?

Nalia: Yeah, what’s up? Lemme guess. You and Charlie are having problems and you want me to teach you how to kiss?

Xander: What? No, stop that. I know how to kiss. I’ve read books.

⊳

Xander: I trust Nalia.

Charlie: You think she knows what she's doing?

Xander: I wouldn't go that far.

⊳

Xander: Um, Nalia, why are you pretending we're this guy's family?

Nalia: We need money!

Xander: You're scamming him?

Nalia: I was thinking more like flat-out stealing from him?

Xander: What?! No way!

Nalia: Why not? We already stole Charlie!

Charlie: Hey guys.

Xander: No, we didn't. Charlie can think and talk for himself, he can do whatever he wants.

Charlie: I wanna steal.

⊳

Xander: We need a distraction.

Charlie: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Nalia, whispering: My time has come

⊳

Xander: Sorry it took me so long to bail you out of jail

Nalia: No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t’ve used my one phone call to prank call the police

⊳

Xander: This is such a bad idea.

Nalia: Then why are you coming along?

Xander: One of us need to be able to talk the cops out of arresting us when this inevitably goes wrong.

⊳

Nalia: *Kicks the door down looking panicked*

Xander: What did you do?

Nalia: Nobody died.

Xander: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?!

⊳

(this is actually quite fitting cause Charlie gets shot at one point, ya know?)

Xander: WHAT’S YOUR TYPE

Charlie: Anything, honestly, but nerds especially

Xander, desperately, as Charlie bleeds out: YOUR BLOOD TYPE

Charlie: Oh! B positive.

Xander: DONT TRY TO CHEER ME UP JUST TELL ME YOUR BLOOD TYPE

Charlie:

⊳

Charlie: You love me, right, Xander?

Xander: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

⊳

Xander: You often use humor to deflect trauma

Charlie: Thank you

Xander: I didn't say that was a good thing

Charlie: What I'm hearing is, you think I'm funny

⊳

Alisha: In light of what you did for me, you can hug me for four to five seconds.

Nalia: FORTY FIVE SECONDS?!?

Alisha: No! Four to five seconds!

Nalia: Too late!!!

⊳

Charlie: Must be hard not being able to laugh

Alisha: I do have a sense of humor you know

Charlie: I’ve never heard you laugh before

Alisha: I’ve never heard you say anything funny.

⊳

Nalia: Xander, I'm sad.

Xander: *Holds out arms for a hug* It’s going to be okay.

Charlie: Alisha, I'm sad.

Alisha, nodding: mood.

⊳

Xander: You're a loose cannon, Nalia.

Nalia: No, I'm not. I'm a cannon maybe, but a loose cannon? Is that what you think of me?

Charlie: I think you play by your own rules.

Alisha: No way, she thinks rules were made to be broken.

Xander: Those are all attributes of a loose cannon.

Nalia: No, I'm just a reckless renegade. Rafael is a loose cannon.

Rafael: *smashes a chair*

⊳

Xander: Good responses for being stabbed with a knife?

Nalia: Rude.

Charlie: That’s fair.

Rafael: Not again.

Alisha: Are you going to want this back?

⊳

Xander: Time for plan G.

Nalia: Don’t you mean plan B?

Xander: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.

Alisha: What about plan D?

Xander: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.

Rafael: What about plan E?

Xander: I’m hoping not to use it. Charlie dies in plan E.

Ethan: I like plan E.

gods, I'm so sorry this... this is even longer than the last one 🙈

p:sw tag list because why not: @thewalkingnerdx @that-one-potato-blep @shattered-starrs @annoyingwritingtrash @deadlycupid @writing-with-olive (if you want to be added or removed from the tag list let me know!)

I tag: @nora-theteawriter and @writing-is-a-martial-art (if you want, no pressure tho! ^^)

#writer speaks #writeblr #wip: project secret warriors #my writing #my characters #writing #tag game #incorrect quote tag

5 notes · View notes

just-messing-around · 3 years

Text

Ann's relationships

Dad

Ann loves her dad, but her view of him and their relationship is kinda sad.

Example 1: Every time she got hurt bad enough to go to the hospital and the doctors and nurses asked if she was doing ok while they worked on her, her response was usually something around the lines of 'my dad dealt with way worse, so I know I'm actually doing fine. You can go focus on people who need you more right now, I can wait.' Even if she was in a lot of pain. This got way worse after he was attacked by Tomura Shigaraki and the Nomu.

'I'm fine, Dad dealt with way worse than this, I have no right to complain about this pain. I just need to stop the bleeding and my body will do the rest.'

So, yeah, he finally had to pull her aside and tell her to stop comparing her pain and problems to others' because she needs to stop treating herself and her health like that, her health is important and just because she saw someone survive worse doesn't mean she should put off getting help. She still has this problem, but she's working on it now.

Example 2: She doesn't think that it's her dad's job to comfort her or emotionally support her. She thinks that his job is to teach her how to be a hero and teach basic parent things.

So her dad's job is to teach hero stuff and answer questions about things like puberty. But most things involved with that can be dealt with using the Internet. Or sending a text to her mom, since she doesn't trust that her father can help her with puberty problems because of the body differences. Dude, girl, he's more informed about this stuff than you give him credit for. He's an intelligent person, he's not an idiot, you can go to him. But he's not exactly complaining about getting to avoid those talks.

Anyways-

She does not think it's his job to:

Comfort her when she cries anymore

Give her pep talks

Attempt to help improve her confidence, self image or feelings of worth

Anything like that.

Most of the time, if she feels like she needs him, she'll cling to a plush toy of his hero sona that her mom gave her when she was younger, hugging that tight while crying instead of going to him for help.

However, she can actually no longer do that, because she gave it to Eri as a gift when they met.

'He was a part of your rescue mission. Because of that, I figured that there's a chance that this toy might offer comfort if you need it? Or something? You can always come to me if you need comfort or anything, but I figured it might be nice for you to have this just in case you'd prefer to hug something instead of coming to a person? Or if you get scared and need something to hug at night? Eh....when I try to explain it, it sounds kinda lame. But the point is; I hope that this can make you feel better if you ever need it.'

Eri

She's definitely gonna think of her as a little sister. She doesn't exactly know how to be a big sister, but she's gonna try to be a good sister for her. She's gonna slip up sometimes, but she's trying. Eri can forgive any small mistakes because she can see that Ann really is trying.

Raised voice? Eri is temporarily hurt, but forgives her when she says sorry and understands that whenever she does that, it's because she's overwhelmed with physical pain, stress, fear or really tired, not really because of negative feelings towards her. Ann had to explain that once, but Eri understands now and they have an easy time getting right back to normal.

She gives Eri a bad gift? Such as a scary book or something? Eri knows she isn't trying to make her uncomfortable, Ann just isn't used to little kids and has to put more thought into what is age appropriate. She'll get her a picture book or a kid's movie next time.

Ann is understanding of Eri, too.

She tries to avoid touching her until Eri gives signs that she's comfortable with it because she doesn't know what kind of issues her past caused. Maybe she's scared of being touched? Because that thought crossed her mind, she decides to stick to 'air hugs' until Eri shows signs of being comfortable with normal hugs and has each of them hold one end of a ruler as a replacement for holding hands until she says she's comfortable with it.

She tries to let Eri know that she can come to her for anything and that she shouldn't be afraid to do so. Had a nightmare? You can tell her about it. Thinking about her past? Tell her about it if you're comfortable with it? Thinking about her fears? Tell her about it. Just in need of a shoulder to cry on? Eri can count on her!

Present Mic

They didn't get off to a great start. She snapped at him about the issues she had with the entrance exam (?) Like how a part of what decides on if the person gets into UA or not is how many robots the kid can take down. She expressed her extreme anger about how the test favors people with physical quirks such as super strength, destructive voices, ect, while people like her dad, her and anyone with similar quirks (like Shinsou) can very easily be passed up despite having powerful and useful quirks, just because they're put up against machines instead of living things.

But after she got calmed down and reminded herself that he doesn't have any fault in it, that he's pretty much just the announcer for the rules of a test that has existed for years, she says sorry and they manage to have a much calmer, meaningful conversation about quirks and issues in the tests that schools like UA use to decide who can be a hero or not.

After that, she keeps talking to him here and there and they start acting similar to friends after school hours. They share music, share opinions, she jokes about how it's funny that so many students have such difficulty understanding his English lessons, tells him about study sessions she holds to tutor those students so they can get better grades in his class, they talk about the lives that heroes might get stuck with, heroes they look up to, different forms of entertainment (she got him to pick up a horror book. He bailed on that pretty quick), ect.

They also like to speak in English when it's just them. Keeps them both brushed up, ya know? She often expresses confusion about new slang or sayings in America that her American friends use when they text or call, which Mic laughs at.

'Mic, what the Hell is a 'vibe check' and why do people get hurt when they're checked? This meme my friend sent just makes no freaking sense.'

They end up spending a lot of time together and she starts seeing him as a 2nd father figure, even respecting what he has to say if he scolds her for something instead of brushing it off.

She wants him and her dad to get together. She'd love to have him as an official 2nd dad.

He also manages to frequently bring out her silly side, getting her to smile, laugh and joke around a lot. He also manages to help boost her confidence here and there and he often manages to lift her mood when she's upset.

Shinsou

They end up dating. Yes, they end up dating before the episode where they had him join in on the hero classes practice, so she doesn't have a crush on him in that post, they're in a relationship and she's displaying positivity for her boyfriend. But the other students don't know that, so I guess it can appear as a crush to them.

Anyways-

She skipped the sports festival, sneaking off and watching it on TV instead, because she refused to take part because she was scared that villains where watching it on TV to study the students in preparation for an attack on the school. She didn't want them to study her, she wanted to be a surprise to throw off the villains if they attacked some time after. (This also paid off because when they went to take the license test, nobody knew what her quirk was. She was the only person in her class to have that advantage and she didn't even plan it because she didn't know what to expect for the test.)

She saw him on TV and decided that she wanted to try befriending him. She wanted to train their quirks together. She would give him permission to practice his brainwashing on her (but she wrote down some limitations of what he can make her do, so no boundaries are crossed) and he would give her permission to practice her quirk on him for extra practice after school hours (but she promised to not practice paralyzing any of his organs, for obvious reasons).

So they started practicing together, talking, she kept showing that she was impressed with his quirk and abilities, kept giving him praise and encouragement, then they started hanging out like normal friends, too.

Eventually, they developed romantic feelings for each other and got together.

She often perks up around him and plays and jokes around with him. She's happier with him.

She also loves to hold hands, hug and cuddle. She probably craves physical affection because she hasn't gotten many hugs since she moved in with her dad and decides to seek it out from her partner in romantic relationships.

Her happiness and excitement shoot through the roof when he gets to participate in the practice for a shot to switch into one of the hero classes, she was with him and her dad, giving a helping hand for his training and preparation. She especially liked helping him out with the capture weapon, because up to that point, she was the only student that needed one, so she was more than happy to help her dad with teaching him about it. Now she has a friend that matches her and her dad, so she thinks that's cool, too.

'Scarf Buds'.

Iida

She respects him, but that doesn't stop her from socializing with him as if he was just a normal classmate instead of the class rep. She shares her thoughts and opinions about him. For example; if he claims that he was tricked into being a commercial during the festival?

'Yeah, that was kinda your own fault. You went into that knowing everyone was gonna be aiming for each other's throats, yet you still allowed the person you where supposed to fight put a bunch of equipment on you. Don't treat her like she's a díck, she was just trying to improve her future in the best way she could think of. You could've easily avoided that situation, too, if you just used your brain a bit more. You refused to work with Deku during the festival, but you let someone you didn't even know put a bunch of stuff on your body before fighting them? Honestly; I thought you would have better foresight than what you displayed. Accept your mistake, don't blame her for trying to improve her future by showing off what she can build to help heroes.'

This type of behavior surprises him, but he is kinda grateful for the view points she offers. The things she says helps him, in a way and he respects her for the fact that she's not really hesitant when it comes to saying these things. A friend can let you go on normally, but a good friend will bring issues to your attention. I imagine he'll try not to fall for the same tricks in the future, but I think it would've been better if he had someone say something like that to him.

Deku

Normal. she thinks he's a decent friend, but often says things like 'Jesus, Deku. You're way too perfect. I don't mean that as a compliment. Being too perfect is....not really very wise. I dunno, maybe since you're aiming to be the new symbol of peace, it'll help put most of the population at ease, but still be careful with that, mkay? Being too perfect can make people like me not trust those types of heroes. I mean, I trust you, but only because I've gotten to know you a bit, you're not just some random hero symbol to me, so I can trust you. But maybe there's a way to fix this issue for everyone like me that don't know you? I dunno....'

Easy to say; she frequently confuses him.

She just can't get him to understand what exactly she means, but he still makes an attempt to understand.

Other than the confusion and occasional scolding of mistakes during things like the exam and running off to save people when he's not allowed to, they get along pretty well.

I guess it's safe to say that she's not exactly part of the 'Deku Squad' since she voices problems and issues that she might have with him and doesn't go along with all of his wishes and plans like the others end up doing. So, not part of the group, but still a decent friend.

Uraraka

She tries to support her in small ways. She makes her lunches and invites her to join in on her special meals (since she can't trust what everyone else makes due to her celiac disease, she always has to make her own, personalized meals) because she wants to make sure she always gets food. Her making lunches for her keeps her from having to pay for school lunches. She does this because she's worried about her financial situation. It's not pity, don't get it confused, she's just making an attempt to support her in small ways.

Todoroki

She asks questions about his family. She doesn't get much info, but she found out that his mother is stuck in a hospital. Because of that, she assumes that she's lonely and asks him to send her letters that she writes sometimes. Since she doesn't know much about her, the letters mainly talk about everyday school life with her son and that she hopes she can meet her someday, but assumes that the only visitors allowed are her family members, so she doesn't think she can visit. This is just her attempting to make someone feel less lonely. She really would be interested in a face to face meeting someday, but she's not sure if it'll ever happen, so she's not holding her breath or anything.

Hero class B:

She doesn't like too many of those students. It's not because Class A is 'better' than Class B or anything, it comes down to the individual's personality.

That girl that has vine hair and always looks like she's praying and saying things like someone should be punished for pretty much any type of sin (unless I've been hearing her lines totally wrong lately)? She doesn't really feel comfortable around her. She assumes that she's too judgmental or something. She's fine being in the same room with her, but she doesn't want to have meaningful conversations with her.

The mushroom girl? Well, she hates mushrooms. She just gets freaked out by the appearances of all the different mushrooms, she hates the texture of mushrooms in food-

So a person who loves mushrooms to her degree isn't exactly someone she wants to spend a lot of time with. Especially if they work mushrooms into their sentences like referring to people as toadstools (again, unless I've been hearing them completely wrong. I haven't been able to get the subtitles to work for these last few episodes I've watched).

Just keep those things and words away from her. Again, she'll be fine talking to her for a short while, but she'll be uncomfortable.

The guy that can merge into the shadows? She just thinks the things he says and how he says them is creepy sometimes. She could be friends with him, but she doesn't really have much interest.

That guy that copies quirks and goes on and on with talking bad about class A? She doesn't like him for obvious reasons, but has slight concern that he only talks like that because he might actually have poor self esteem or a bad self image and is trying to hide it. So, she wants to give him a compliment here and there, to help him feel better, but at the same time, she doesn't wanna be in the same room as him.

She likes the steel guy and transfer student that has the horn quirk, though. Big fist girl? She's 'meh'.

All the other students, I haven't put much thought into when it comes to her opinions.

Yet.

I haven't finished the episodes where the classes train together. I finished some, but not all of them. I think I had to leave off on the one where Todoroki is in the fight.

Sato:

Well....she likes his personality. But, due to her celiac disease, she doesn't always feel comfortable with the idea of touching his hands. So, ya know, no high fives or anything unless she knows he hasn't done any baking for a while. Ya make cakes, ya get flour all over your hands. And I don't know about anyone else, but whenever I know someone just touched gluten, I can't help but think of them as 'dirty' for a while, unless I see them wash their hands right in front of me. And he bakes a lot of sweets, right? In that episode where the class goes around seeing each others' rooms and he offers everyone cake? While all the other girls where enjoying the cake and showering him in compliments, she went-

'Nononononononono!' While she quickly backed away with her hands in front of her as if to block an attack. (Not too far off. If that stuff gets in her body, it'll attack her small intestines. My own reaction to having gluten offered to me is similar.)

'Sorry, dude! I-uh-I'm sure it's delicious and I want to taste it, but I can't eat it. Sorry, dude.'

She explained it in better detail later and she taught him a gluten free cake recipe that she likes and they used her own cooking equipment that she stores in her room to keep it safe from cross contamination, so they got to eat some cake together and he's slowly learning about food limitations. He never offers her baked goods anymore, but she offers him to help her make gluten free treats to share with the class. Sometimes they have Eri help them out, too. Then Eri brings some of whatever they made to the teachers' dorm building to share with the teachers when she has to go back.

Bakugou:

Hm. She doesn't like him much. She doesn't think he has the heart to be a hero. Yeah, he can save lives, but he might make the people cry while saving them. She just imagines him saving kids from something, then he yells and insults them and the kids burst out in tears. She's really hoping nothing like that ends up happening when he becomes a pro. She's hoping to see him grow to a point where he can control his outbursts, at least when he's around children.

Everyone else that I can think of right now:

She doesn't have strong opinions about them. I think I covered everyone she has opinions about.

Maybe I'll come back and edit this after I watch more episodes, but I've had to work on this slowly because of the issues caused by recovering from my surgery and I'm tired of it sitting in my drafts.

This post needs to finally see the light of day, it needs to stop sitting in the dusty, old Drafts Box.

So here ya go, post! Be free on my blog! I'll edit you later, maybe.

This was meant to be a good peek into this oc, which will be my main MHA oc and the one I care most about because I can relate to her because I gave her some of my biggest physical issues and some of my mental issues, which I haven't went into yet.

So, this is the MHA oc that I'll talk most about and give the most info about. Especially since, as of writing this, I don't even have any other MHA ocs yet.

#ann simmons #ann simmons oc #eri #mha eri #eri mha #mr. aizawa #mr aizawa #aizawa #dadzawa #papazawa #mha oc #mha #iida tenya #shinsou hitoshi #present mic #just-#just so many characters #i dont wanna tag everyone #too many tags!

2 notes · View notes

kaimelia · 4 years

Note

Can u write something about Amelia struggling with her pregnancy, like waddling difficulty to sit down sit up and all those kind of things? Thank u

A/N: Hi! I know this was requested on my Ao3 a bit ago, sorry for the delay! I hope you enjoy this!

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

Amelia groaned as she stood up, her back had been hurting all day and she was more than ready to go home and collapse into her boyfriend’s arms. She was meeting him in the lobby in five minutes and had to stop in the lounge to grab her bag first. After some time of struggling down the hallway and into the elevator, she eventually opened the door to the lounge and found Link sitting at the table. He smiled widely at her.

“I figured you’d be a little late so I came here to meet you.” He stood up, picking up her bag and carrying it.

“Why would I be late?” Link showed her his phone screen.

“Well, it’s 7:03, and we were going to meet in the lobby at 7. You’re waddling all around the hospital, Amelia.” She pouted and crossed her arms across her chest.

“It’s not my fault, if anything it’s your fault.”

“Your waddling isn’t a bad thing, I actually think it’s pretty cute.” She smacked his arm.

“It’s not cute, I’m fat and huge.”

“No, you’re pregnant. This is normal when you’re 35 weeks.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her out of the room and down the hallway. “How are you feeling?” She leaned against his body and looked up at him as they entered the elevator.

“Tired. My feet hurt, my back hurts and I just want to lay down.” Amelia sighed.

“How about when we get home, we take a nice bath and then I can rub your feet?” A smile spread across her face.

“Yes, please.” Their hands interlocked. “You’re like, the best boyfriend ever, you know that?” He laughed and dropped a kiss onto her forehead.

“Only for you, Amelia.”

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

Link but his hands on her waist, helping her to sit down in the bathtub. She leaned against Link’s body and wrapped his arms around her. Amelia sighed contently and relaxed her body.

“Mm. Thank you.” He moved his hands to her shoulders, rubbing the muscles as he felt the tension she was holding.

“I don’t think it’d be a bad idea if you took a lighter schedule at work. So you’re not on your feet as much and you don’t have to hurry around the hospital.”

“I know, but I like working. It’s like, my happy place.” Link wrapped an arm back around her body and pulled her closer.

“You’re in pain, Amelia. I hate to see you so exhausted. Plus, the due date’s getting closer. Carina did say he’d probably come early.”

“At our check-up last week, she said we still had a few weeks. I’ll be fine, Link.” She sprawled her hand over her stomach, lightly rubbing up and down. “I have tomorrow off and I’ll take it easy, I promise.”

“How’s he doing?” Amelia shrugged.

“He’s calm now, so he’ll probably be kicking when I try to sleep.” She laid her head back against his chest as he brushed her hair from her face. “He’s learned to not bug me as much during the day though, which is good.” Link placed his hand over hers.

“He’s a quick learner already!” She laughed softly. Silence settled around them, Link’s soft humming lulling Amelia to sleep. After some time, he looked down to see her eyes fluttering closer. “Do you want to go to bed?” He whispered, pulling her hair back behind her head.

“Yeah, help me up please.” Link supported her with his hands, watching as she slowly stood up and got out of the bathtub, wrapping herself in a towel. “Can you go grab me one of your shirts?” Link smiled and got out himself, wrapping another towel around his waist. He returned shortly after, a black t-shirt balled up in his hand.

“Here,” he handed it to her, pulling his boxers on and dropping his towel. He held out his hand for her, pulling her towards him. He placed his hands on her waist as she stood in front of him, steadying her as she walked out of the bathroom and down the hall to their bedroom. “Do you want that foot massage I promised?” She nodded as she laid back onto the bed, kicking her feet up into his lap as he sat down. He took her foot and rubbed it, watching as she sighed contently and relaxed into the pile of blankets under her. Her hands splayed over her bump, rubbing up and down.

“I hope he comes soon. I’m getting impatient.” Link smiled over at her, switching the foot he was rubbing.

“Me too, but I don’t feel like we’re ready yet, Mia.”

“You never feel ready, it wouldn’t be parenting if we were ready.” He set down her foot, collapsing next to her on the bed.

“I know. That’s what scares me.” Amelia rolled onto her side to face him.

“Being scared is good.” She grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers. “You’re going to be an amazing dad, Link. You’re already so amazing to me.” He slid his other arm under her head, his arms opening for her to lay against him.

“Amelia, we both know that being a good parent takes more than being a decent person.”

“I know, but you’re not just a decent person. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. I also know it’s terrifying when you’re thinking about being a parent, I’m feeling the same things. But if I can do it, so can you. And we’re not going to be like our parents were.” She left his embrace for a second, switching off the bedside lamp.

“I guess.” He wrapped his arms around her, tighter. “Let’s go to sleep, Amelia.”

“No, I wanna stay up until you aren’t as worried.”

“I’m always going to be worried. But, you can help some of that worry by going to sleep.” She lifted his hand up, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hand before setting it back down.

“Goodnight. I love you,” she whispered, her body already settling and falling asleep. His soft response was the last thing she heard before she drifted off that night, wrapped in the arms of the love of her life.

#amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelink #amelink fanfiction #amelia x link #baby amelink #my fics

36 notes · View notes

zuffer-weird-girl · 4 years

Text

Not again...

The car didn't even had stopped, and Chisaki already had burst the door and started to run the faster he could manage towards the place Mimic had trackened.

"Overhaul they say they are in a building!" Chrono shouted as he loaded his gun in the middle of his running while Mimic tried to mantain his balance on Rappa's shoulders while he followed his boss.

Chisaki didn't shouted back a response, legs hurting already from how much force and speed he was putting on himself to reach that cursed place.

"Kai!" He lifted his gaze from his papers only to smirk at seing you pouting on the door frame "Is been like hours you're there!"

"How pleasing it is to know that you've been tracking time to tell me this dearest." He sighed sarcastically before deciding to put a end on his work for today.

The way you smiled bringed the warmth he missed and didn't even knew he needed after all of his years of... coldness and loneliness.

"Well, I don't want you passing out on your desk like the other ti-"

"I thought we weren't going to talk anymore about this." He growled in embarrassment, making you laugh immediately.

The worst is that he wasn't embarrassed by sleeping on his desk accidentally, but actually flustered at remembering the way you had appeared and left a kiss on his forehead, making him let out a 'I love you' without even thinking.

After you stopped laughing he only scoffed, eyes growing worried while his gloved hand went to your cheek to stroke lovingly and carefully.

"Any better?" Your face immediately fell, the one bright with laughter turned into a sad and hopeless smile.

"Y'know..." You sighed, bringing your own hand to his to hold right against your cheek for a bit longer "I am already used to it."

He glared and grabbed your wrist with his free hand, squezing a bit.

"But I am certainly not." He growled, while you still remained with that lost of hope expression while you sighed.

"Is just... life Kai. We don't choose those things."

He brought you to his chest as he crushed you on a hug, holding your scalp and waist on his firm grip as he glared daggers at the ground.

He was working to find a cure. He couldn't just take this. Why such a beautiful and pure soul like yourself have to had this curse?

The experiments were still being done. He couldn't use you to test, if something went wrong he wouldn't forgive himself.

He was first going to tell Pops about it, the moment the real bullets come out... you would be cured.

His lungs hurted from the way he breathed in and out desperately.

His commurates, woth certain difficulty, followed him. The group stopping by a building as he finally got his breath back.

Yet he didn't spared a second before taking his glove out and placing it on the building... onpy to see that his quirl wasn't working.

"A fucking barrier. They plannned this Overhaul." Chrono cursed under his breath.

Chisaki punched with all his force the wall... surprisingly making it crack.

"DAMMIT!" He shouted at the tops of his lungs, making the three man widen their eyes at seing the anger and force on only that scream that even scared the birds from the florest away.

"Dont you know the meaning of the word 'wait' woman?!" He shouted right behind you, growling in defeat at again failing on grabbing on your hand and forearm.

You giggled at his irritated and annoyed expression as you continued running.

"Maybe if you didn't depend it on your quirk so much you would be able to- SHIT!" you accidentally tripped on your own foot and prepared for the impact... only to feel a pair of those strong arms you absolutely loved around you, preventing your fall.

"You see, this is called karma, brat." He pinched your cheek rather painfully, making you whine in protest. "What if you got hurt huh? You could have gotten a bruised knee or arm, allowing some filth germs and bacterias to enter."

"Dramaaaaatic!" You singed in mockeness before yelping a bit at the discret pinch on your butt before he lifted you guys up.

He only arched a dissaproving eyebrow at you when you smiled back a him... The sun even seemed to make you shine even brighter.

"You know that I always will come back to you, even if hell itself tries to tear me away." You chirped with a smile, making his frown go deeper.

He absolutely despised the double sense on that sentence...

In less than minutes Rikiya appeared and aling with Rappa, both had breaked the wall, Chisaki jumped through the rest of the broken concrete before looking around with wide and hateful eyes.

"(Y/N)!" he shouted, coughing a bit at sieng how dirty this place was, but his mysophobia was weak compared to his wish of getting you back "(Y/N)!" He shouted again.

"Nothing in here!" He heard Chrono and Mimic's yells from behind him as he scowled even more, hives appearing in huge amount on his skin.

"LOOK FOR HER!" He commanded as he runned through that rather giant place, apparently it was once one of those basements of farms things or similiar, due to the big constructure and the akount of open and broken rooms.

He went to shout your name again before he froze.. seing the villain who had announced your kidnapping... in front of a stabbed and bruised... you.

"Where's that yakusa of yours now huh? No where right?" He say it sadistically while he wiped his knife on his clothing.

Chisaki almost throwed himself on that bastard, but he mrely gave him a punch so hard on his jaw from behind that even heard the cracking and sended the man towards the wall.

No no NO NO GOD PLEASE NO-!

"Don't... worry..." you said between choked breaths, eyes teared but yet so relieved at seing gim in your front, wide and watery golden eyes staring at you as he tried to heal you back with his quirk... but didn't work it.

It never did...

"Angel please hang on I-" he said desperately but choked back a sob as he felt your hand cupping his cheek lovingly.

"Stop this... we will see each.. o-other soon... remember..?" He clenched his jaw tightly under his plague mask, holding your hand that was becoming colder and colder each second that passes.

Not again... not again!

25... twenty five times he saw that happening again and again.

He hated your quirk more than heroes themselfes... Evertime some accident happened, even the minors ones... you would die. No matter the quirk or someone that tried to stop it... you would always die.

25 times he saw the love of his life dying in front of his eyes... and returning it back for a few days as the form as a child... with no memories until you recuperated them.

Sometimes it took weeks for you to regain your memories... and when you did, it took at least three days for you to come back to your original form.

"Chisaki!" Your childish voice ranged and he forced himself to smile a bit, seing you unharmed was a at least the good part...

He crouched down with a sigh, accepting the small sakura flower you had handed it to him.

Normally he would keep himself far away from a child... he didn't felt comfortable neither happy being near them... Eri was a pure example of that.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to despise the little girl that was his lover, blushed cheeks and a pure smile on her lips as she giggled in embarrassment and glee at seing that he had accepted her gift... even despite knowing his... not liking of touching.

Though how on earth he could be repulsed by you? He only found out what it meant to be happy and... loved because you teached him, because you showed him...

He also noticed that comparing from the first times you were in this form, right now you were way more comfortable with him... just like him.

But god, how difficult it was for to pretend to not be disgusted or consumed by hate at you having such a cruel quirk. Allowing you to die many times and returning it back...

You turned around to pick more flowers before you stopped... completely frozen in your place.

"Something wrong brat?" He sighed in false annoyance, before his breath caught on his throat when he saw the look you gave to him right after.

Hopeless... sad and hopeless look.

"It happened again, didn't it?" Your child like voice manifested in pure sadness as he felt his eyes burning.

Those bullets. He needed them. His angel needed them badly.

"Yes..." he sighed in defeat, letting the flower of sakura fall from his gloved hand before he felt your tiny arms circle around his neck "It was my fault angel..." he lifted you up and clinged your small form to him "Im so-"

"You weren't responsible for that building falling Kai. Stop blamming yourself." You frowned more seing the hives slowly appearing on the side of his neck.

"I swear on my grave. I am making a cure for you, just you wait. You will be free from your sickness my angel. I promise."

You giggled bitterly, clearly not believing his words.

He was. You weren't going to suffer anymore... he promised.

He felt the hives appearing in a hige amount of quantity as he brought your cold body to his, letting his tears drip down form his face to your chest as he rested your head on his shoulder and squezzed your body to his... not caring about the blood coaxing his clothes.

"Not again..!" He sobbed, holding your body with one strong arm while the other was subsconciously touching the ground as he holded your legs on his forearm.

His chest hurted, his skin was burning hot and he somehow catched the voices of his commurates and the fucker who had just done this.

"Overhaul!" Chrono shouted, noticing the small bits of concrete starting to float around his childhood friend k eeling on the ground with his dead lover.

"NOT AGAIN!" he let out a bloody, long and loud shout that everyone on that room swore every person on Japan had hearded it... the building started to crack and broke in many pieces forming sharp spikes going into all directions while plataforms formed. Chisaki's quirk was absolutely out of control, yet some spikes of metal had pierced the villain's chest, blood spreading through the room as Chisaki's shout only continued.

"EVeRYOnE OuT oF ThE FuCkInG BUilDinG NoW We RE GonNa FuCkIng DIe!" Mimic sgouted as Rappa and Rikiya quickly made their way out as Chrono tried to get closer to you and Chisaki.

"CHISAKI-!" He cursed out loud when more spikes and ataforms formed, not having any more choices than getting out of the crashing building before he got injured.

The mans got out of the that place intacted... Overhaul's hatred and painful shout only coming to an end when the building was completly destroyed.

"Is Overjerk still alive after that?!" Rappa shouted before getting punched by a very angry Mimic.

Chrono widened his eyes and took of his mask in respect and sorrow at seing the scene he saw his friend going through many times as Mimic only muttered a lainful curse in sympathy.

Chisaki, blood dripping down from the right side of his face, walking slowly out of the scrubs with heart broken eyes but hateful gaze as he stared at the ground... on his arms he carried a little sleeping girl, that seemed to have 4 years at maximun by her appearance, enveloped by his oconic green jacket.

Only Pops, Mimic and Chrono knew about your quirk... so when Rikiya and Rappa saw the badass and cruel boss of them holding a child ok his arms was slightly shocking.

"Boss what is-" Chisaki passed thorugh them without a word, walking numbly towards the car, Chrono noticing how he tighten his grip on the little one as his eyes darkened a bit.

"What the hell is Overhaul doing with a brat?" Rappa mumbled more in disbelief than shock.

"Is his chick's quirk. Can't exactly die." Mimic muttered.

"The more (Y/n) dies, the longer it takes for her to recover her memories of Overhaul and goes back to her original form..." Chrono completed, following Chisaki but giving him his privacy and distance.

He knew that the moment the first bullet came out, Chisaki at this point was going to force that thing into your system... after all, you were indeed one of the few persons he cared for more than anything.

His plan was for to retribuit Pops and free you from your curse after all.

#overhaul x reader #overhaul scenario #fanfic overhaul #overhaul #chisaki kai imagine scenario #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #kai chisaki #chisaki kai #bnha chisaki #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha characters #bnha villains #bnha #my writing #zuffer writing

176 notes · View notes

klein-archive · 3 years

Text

Memories in feelings

8th June 2021

This will be my (Jane Milton’s) last blog post before handing over to the new Melanie Klein Trust archivist, Christine English. I know that Christine has already identified some very interesting archival material that she will be sharing on the blog - which I am certainly looking forward to reading.

So, to round off my always stimulating, fruitful time exploring the Klein archives (though I will continue to refer to them) here are some clinical notes I came across recently, which I hope will be thought-provoking.

Klein discusses what she calls ‘memories in feelings’ several times in the third and fourth volumes of her Writings. For example, an important footnote to page 180 of Envy and Gratitude reads:

All this [referring to early phantasies concerning the breast] is felt by the infant in much more primitive ways than language can express. When these pre-verbal emotions and phantasies are revived in the transference situation, they appear as ‘memories in feelings’, as I would call them, and are reconstructed and put into words with the help of the analyst. In the same way, words have to be used when we are reconstructing and describing other phenomena belonging to the early stages of development. In fact we cannot translate the language of the unconscious into consciousness without lending it words from our conscious realm (Klein 1957).

In archive file PP/KLE/D.11, I found a detailed and complicated example of a ‘memory in feeling’, together with Klein’s interpretations of and reflections on it, in the analysis of a man in his late forties, whom she calls ‘Mr X’.

In the second half of file D.11, Klein discusses the difficulties that the patient is having, in integrating feelings towards his parents with the analytic transference situation. The analyst is sometimes spared the complex and contradictory negative feelings felt towards the primary objects, while, at other times, the situation with the parents is idealised, and the analysis and analyst denigrated. The following material appears in the digitised collection as images 18, 20 and 22-28 (omitting some pages which are crossed out and do not appear to belong to the sequence):

---

I could give you many more instances of attitudes, which have all in common the attempt on the part of the patient to avoid a synthesis between the various aspects of figures and relations, which have come to focus on the analyst. The point here is that the synthesis, which the patient has not been able to establish sufficiently in the past is bound up in the various anxieties coming to the fore. The analyst is loved and hated, as other people in the patient’s life were earlier on, and the patient resorts to all sorts of defences and among them the process of splitting figures and situations, in order to avoid the relations that these various aspects represent, the various aspects of the mother and father. It is, therefore, our work to help him to experience again and again - and this is a slow process we know - the realisation, that he has only divided up, split his ego, his relations with people, and the people themselves, in the attempt to avoid conflict, anxiety and guilt. Our interpretations aim at synthesis, but the synthesis can only be achieved piecemeal, and again and again the patient has to be confronted with experiencing conflict and suffering, which he has tried to avoid in the past.

Re memories in feelings: (to George)

[George is a child Klein saw between the ages of 3 and 8, in the 1930s, who appears in two of the ‘restricted’ files B.39 and B.40]

This brings me to a point which applies to adults as well as to some extent to children. We know how important it is to revive in our patients[’] memories. We however also know that such memories can be extremely falsified. This is included in the concept of cover memories. So while it is beneficial to get as many memories as possible, it is in connection with emotions, desires, anxieties which partly led to these memories, and which these past experiences were connected with, that we have to understand any situation in the past as well as in the present. We should never rest content with just having past experiences as it were reconstructed in the analysis, because we must not treat them as it were as isolated events. Only if we are able to bring out the whole situation of feelings, anxieties, fitting into the development as a whole, we can feel that we have benefitted sufficiently from the revival of memories. Now there would probably be no difference of opinion on that point. I still think it is worthwhile mentioning, for there are stages of development of which we cannot get memories in the full sense of the word, expressed by words, and in the clear-cut way in which memories of a later stage may appear. And yet they are memories of feelings.

Refer back to Mary in this connection - reproducing the situation of the baby (lamb) with all the oral details attached to it [it is not clear to whom Klein is referring here]

A VERY EARLY MEMORY IN FEELING

Man Patient X (age: just under fifty) 8th February 1946

In identification with the little child who was teething and woke at night repeatedly crying, the father felt suddenly, having just woken from sleep, what an “awful thing was going on in the child”. He had a vision of something growing out of the soft mouth, flesh being contrasted here to something very hard like spikes which were somehow thrust on him (because by now he felt it happening to himself and not to the child) and being forced to push these spikes together. (this was shown by a gesture). And a terrible feeling how awful that must be. At this moment, when visualising the spikes coming together, he had a vision of these hard things outside him, and “death-head” was the next association to it. The feeling of grievance that he could not stop that happening, that this whole thing had been thrust on him, that something had made these spikes come out, and that he had no more control over these spikes because again something forced him to push these spikes together.

Now these feelings he found extremely difficult to put into words, while he was otherwise very vocal. It seemed as if they just could not be put into words. And he fully agreed when I suggested that this incapacity was due to the fact that such things may be felt but not thought of in words at a very early stage. The one stimulus for experiencing what quite obviously was a memory in feeling was the identification with the little daughter. Another is the transference situation at the moment.

In the preceding hour some guilt about leaving the responsibility all his life too much with other people, or rather a tendency towards that which was very much controlled, had come up. Facing that, a very high appreciation of the value of the analysis and the effects, and a feeling of unworthiness in having it, had become quite clear. A particular association was leaving the responsibility for sweets (tuck at school) with the mother. He would not take sweets with him after the holidays, but she should rather send them. They were packed into a tin, and there seemed something very wrong about that, an inexplicable feeling that it was not, as it were, her job to send them in a way which left some responsibility with her which she should not have. This had connected with feelings that however valuable the analysis might be, he does not make the best of it, or won’t do in the future.

My suggestion in the preceding hour had been that he would use the interpretations, and the analysis, in the wrong way, that he would not make the best of it. Now an association produced on the 7th was that after having left me, at the moment of going out of the room, he had suddenly had an association that in fact he would make use of the analysis in such a way that it would improve his earning capacity, and he disliked the thought that he would use it to make money.

Now there are here two trends of thought which became quite clear in the present hour: The good thing, the milk, the nipple, taken in would be changed into faeces and thus be completely destroyed – money making – bad purposes.

This is the way in which the nipple, and now my interpretations, would be treated while being taken in. The object would be destroyed, the “death head”, which himself felt was a later elaboration of what was felt dangerously destroyed in those early days, is the object- in this case me. Therefor the tin in which the sweets were packed is not only his inside in which he should not take the sweets, but it is more specifically the mouth and the teeth (the edges of the tin).

The very strong feeling that it was not his fault, because it was pushed, thrust on him, seems to connect with the nipple being pushed into him. And here the object itself becomes the teeth, a condensation of what is being done to the object and reflected in his attitude towards him. Also why was the nipple given to him? But there seemed to have been in fact at the very beginning of feeding great difficulties because the mother had been very ill, and X has a feeling- not supported by what he had heard- that for some time she could not have fed him. In his view, since she was so ill at his birth, some weeks could have elapsed before she could feed him. A view which seems rather phantastic when he was going over it in this hour, because what would have happened to the milk?

He had been told that his breast feeding otherwise had been normal up to about 8 months but with the strong feeling that to begin with there had been a long gap, a very long time before he started on it. The present impression was that he might have had very great difficulties in taking the nipple, perhaps because of a break in the beginning or perhaps because of fears, as the mother, who was on the whole affectionate and patient, was apt to be erratic and if things did not go well, impatient. The possibility appears that if at the beginning of the feeding there had been difficulties due to starting a little too late with the breast being given and to his difficulties, she might have been impatient and thrust the nipple into his mouth.

Very fundamental attitudes seem to be connected with this. Incapacity to make use of very great gifts in him, of choosing, or trying to get the best thing, to make use of opportunities – against that in the same way a tendency to thrust responsibility on to others which was in fact not carried out. A very strong drive to get the best opportunities and also to make use of them, but with a constant conflict over these two attitudes which no doubt had to some extent a paralysing effect.

An interesting point is the vision of the “death head” in front of the mouth, outside. It seems to show so closely the process of the object still outside and at the same time already internalised and again externalised – on the boundary. As well as the actual external object, the nipple, changed into this destroyed object.

Memories in feelings are not an unknown fact. But this should be put versus what is called “memories”. I find them in such ways also with adults, that the whole situation becomes alive. All this shows in attitudes and is connected with the transference situation.

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

References:

Klein, Melanie (1957) Envy and Gratitude. In Envy and Gratitude and Other Works, The Writings of Melanie Klein Volume III. London: Hogarth 1975.

#melanie klein #psychoanalysis #memory #transference #child development #internal objects #good breast #internal conflict #ambivalence

2 notes · View notes