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sentientsky · 4 months

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On Crowley, the Starmaker, and the Disruption of Intergenerational Violence

(based on this post from @nightgoodomens) I started thinking about Crowley and the Starmaker and the way in which he's an engineer at heart. But then I started gathering screencaps and making gifs and stuff, and then I was thinking about how Crowley's doing a really good job of upsetting patterns of intergenerational trauma. (Of course I'm going to talk about childhood stuff, what did you expect from me??) CONTENT WARNING: this will involve discussions of childhood trauma and abuse (not explicit)

I'll be using they/them pronouns to refer to the Starmaker and he/him pronouns for Crowley. This is for no other reason than to help me differentiate in my own writing lol.

To preface, the Starmaker is so so important to me. You have no idea; they are my beloved, my everything, my most adored.

I mean, look them. What a fucking cutie (i accidently/subconsciously picked up the habit of nose-scrunching because of this goofy little cosmic Bob the Builder)

They're also an engineer, a creator of worlds—someone who spins matter and existence into being.

Their desire to create, to make things happen is carried throughout the story.

(e.g., Crowley's rainstorm) He maintains a love for the universe and all the stars in the sky.

So what does this have to do with intergenerational trauma? Well, as we've discussed time and time again, Crowley is deeply deeply traumatized by both the violence of Heaven and of Hell. Trauma, much like the worst fucking family heirloom ever, has the capacity to be passed down through the years. Let's get more specific. What is intergenerational trauma?

(source)

(source) For example, my grandfather has a horrific temper and lashes out as a way to cope with his emotions. In turn, my father learned that being abusive towards one's children was acceptable, and applied it to his parenting of me.

In this case, Crowley was abandoned and actively forced into, "a million-light-year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur" by God—someone who is functionally his parent. In Hell, he was subject to torture and other forms of cruelty. Unsurprisingly, that leaves a fucking massive mark on an individual. It would be very easy for him to simply replicate the patterns that he learned in his time as the Starmaker and turn cold/callous/cruel. And yet he doesn't do this. As mentioned here, he is kind and compassionate. He sticks around through continual rejections, despite having only known abandonment. He answers questions (invites them even). At the same time, the trauma hasn't had a nonzero effect on him, of course. He's redirected the violence into compulsive caretaking and a kind of need to prove himself, among many other things (totally not speaking from experience here. no siree!! *sweating*). Let's take a closer look at this (because I want to and you're stuck with me hehe): Questions As we saw in season 1, Crowley cites asking questions as the reason for his Fall (an idea which we see reiterated in season 2):

Instead of replicating that same violence (by belittling, rejecting, or else lashing out at those who ask questions), we see him encouraging curiosity. Not only is this evident within the Starmaker,

but also in Crowley himself, as we see with both Muriel and Jimbriel:

Along the same lines, as he's been subject to a great deal of unkindness (understatement of the year), it would be easy for him to carry that cruelty forward (god knows my family has taken that route before. who said that!!!). Nevertheless, he remains kind, even to those who have hurt him (which isn't to say that you need to be or even should be kind to those who abuse you. abuser apologists are not a thing in this household). Kindness even in the face of mistreatment + anger Gabriel, as Crowley has mentioned, has the capacity to smite Crowley. He has actively tried to kill the love of his life. The mere presence of Gabriel in the bookshop triggers a fight or flight response in Crowley, and this disruption represents a violation of the safety of the bookshop that he and Aziraphale had established within the past however many years (see Alex's fantastic meta post for more detail regarding the bookshop becoming an unsafe space for Crowley: x)

ignore my cursor. just pretend its a fly. shh shhh it's beez just being a silly lil guy (gn). i'm too tired to remake this gif, so this is what we're working with lol

(AND THEN HE OFFERS HIM A HOT CHOCOLATE?!?!?!! couldn't be me) Case Study: The Plants (shoutout to @sighed-the-snake for their post about leaf spots) Even with regards to his plants, we see a widely different side of him beginning in the second season. In the first season, we witness him using the plants as a site of displacement/projection, in which he reenacts the violence he himself was subject to.

However, in the second season, while we don't get a lengthy view of them, episode four gives us a quick glimpse into how this approach might have altered in the four years since.

(please keep in mind that my vision is absolute dogshit, so apologies if you look at my little circles and go "what the actual fuck is she talking about?" i TRIED, okay????) Had this been the first season, these little guys wouldn't have been permitted to exist in the state they're shown here. We could argue, oh well, it's just because Crowley's been busy/distracted with other things. And while that may be the case, we've seen him preoccupied with the end of the world in season 1, and yet still exert control over the plants.

...I have no solid conclusion for this, as I'm still sick and my brain is like a bowl of stagnant dishwater at the moment. I'm not putting forth any new ideas or anything, so I guess this is all to say, "yay for cycle breakers!".

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eth3real-ess3nce · 2 years

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How I would handle each moon sign's bad mood (my experience)

Aries moon - I would let you spam our chat with your venting. I had this one friend with his moon in aries and he was so freaking bold about what bothered him. So go ahead, vent to me with no filter. I will listen and acknowledge what fucks with your head. Be as edgy as you like. Yes baby, break this chair too. When you finish, I'll let you know that you don't have anything to prove to the world. It's not you against them. It's you against you. I'll make you see that you have set extremely high standards for yourself and you barely acknowledge your own strengths. Some people can't see it because they don't function in your pace. You're an innovator, love. Own it.

Taurus moon - Honestly, these folks just want to be left alone. They'll talk about it later. Meanwhile, I'll provide you with what makes you comfortable the most , either snacks or something that soothes your senses. Yeah, taurus=senses, cliche huh? But am I wrong? Comfort movie? Blanket? Little kiss on the forehead? I know you want it. When you decide to talk about it, I'll make sure to boost the way you feel about yourself. Because deep down, you give and give to others but, it's like a subconscious act in order to feel that you're worthy of something.

Gemini moon - I'll let you talk, and talk and talk.. and talk. Let me know about everything that concerns you about the matter you're upset about. Each of your perceptions. I'll just listen and reassure you because you need to know that your thoughts and opinions matter. I'll also let you crack a joke just so you break the awkward feeling of being too emotional in front of me. I'll laugh along, but I'd secretly pray that you stopped feeling embarrassed for being human and having feelings.

Cancer moon - I would look into your eyes, which are always filled with gentleness, and let you know that I'm always a safe space for you. Cancer has a sweet tooth, how about some chocolate to soothe your inner turmoil? Or some freshly baked homemade cookies? Most cancer moons stay to themselves; no matter how much they open up to you, they always have a safe distance. You're so in touch with your emotional world so I trust you with your outbursts. But that doesn't mean you I won't allow you to bury yourself inside my embrace when things get too rough.

Leo moon - Your heart feels warm and it is loyal, but there's pride in there as well. I know you value my friendship but you don't want to be too vulnerable. We'll talk about your moodiness and I'll lift you up. Heck, you're awesome and you're radiant and you need to be reminded about it. I'll take your photos and make loud dramatic noises because I admire your regal presence so much. Even if you don't think you're a stunner, it's my duty now to make you feel so.

Virgo moon - You push everyone away from truly getting into your head, don't you? I'd let you know that doing multiple things at once isn't very.. helpful. No you won't escape from your own mind this way! I'll do the bed for you. I'll do your hair for you. I'll put your favourite tunes on and I'll smile as you won't resist quietly singing the lyrics. If you don't even want to be involved with the song, that's when I'll know the mood is REALLY bad.. but even then, I will not leave you alone with your self-deprecating thoughts.

Libra moon - Honestly, I'd shower you with compliments. The genuine ones, of course. I'd listen to what you have to say and I'd remark on your intellect. Something fine would instantly improve your mood. Your favourite glass of wine? Getting out to try some perfumes on our skins? Gifting you a skin lotion that has your favorite scent? All with a big smile on my face, trying to match yours. <3

Scorpio moon - I wouldn't tire you into opening up to me and I wouldn't comment on your smoking habit either. I'd let you know you can express your dullness around me whenever you have the blues. You're a water moon though, you have to know I am considerate of your emotions. Scorpio is a fixed sign, originally ruled by mars. People label you as difficult. But you just consistently do what you think is the right thing to do. Doesn't everyone want that for themselves? Well, you just tend to see deeper. And at times, through the opposite of what's called rose-tinted glasses.

Sagittarius moon - You know your emotional reactions are extra. You don't have to be reminded by other people. Your whole life philosophy takes form based on your emotional experiences. I know it's difficult for you to move on even if your moon is in a flighty, fun sign. Deep down you'd like to belong somewhere, it just has to be a place where you don't worry about a damn thing. My dear, I'd take car rides with you to nowhere and let you blast your favourite songs. I'd see places with you, laugh at your snarky comments about off-looking strangers we meet and play dares, until your pain conceals completely in the moment.

Capricorn moon - Just like cancer moon, you are aware of your inner turmoil. You know what you need in order to have your waters calmed. But nine out of ten times, it's a self destructive method. "It is what it is", you love chanting. You don't want others to be bothered by your emotions because it's " not productive" and it's "time consuming" . Nevertheless I'll treat you like my baby and praise you for your work because you just really need to be seen. Yes I'll get this thing done for you just how you like it. Similar to cancer moon, as I said, you prefer to have your alone time when you have the blues. You want to handle it alone because you believe you have found the best solutions. Regardless, I'll hold your hand while you're trying to recollect your sense of self.

Aquarius moon - We're going to celebrate for you being the odd one out instead of mourning about it. There's no way you're full of flaws, right? I'll try to pull the best jokes for you and listen to your strong rants as well. You do need to socialise but you also need to isolate when you feel off, so you can brood in peace. I'll let you know that you're so appreciated and all your selfless acts mean everything. Nahh, you're not an a*shole. To me, you're my ratchet friend. You're a star the world isn't advanced enough for. I'll try to teach you patience, for your own good.

Pisces moon - For you, I won't boost your self-deprecating lifestyle and thought patterns. You always love to whine to me about how sensitive and ridiculously fragile you are. I simply must let you know that sensitivity is one of the biggest virtues to possess out there. Most of the time you're two fish swimming in a loop, inside a palm sized pond. Aren't you tired of swimming in the same old comfortable waters? You're originally ruled by Jupiter for Christ's sake! Own your ability to expand! Jupiter favours you in ways you never imagined. Just tap into it. I know you can be naive but that doesn't overturn how smart you are. You just want someone to rejuvenate your faith and I know I have to be that someone.

#moon signs #aries moon #taurus moon #gemini moon #cancer moon #leo moon #virgo moon #Libra moon #scorpio moon #sagittarius moon #aquarius moon #pisces moon #Astrology moon

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oldcoyote · 20 days

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the-cimmerians replied to your post:

Stubbornness and spite in refusing to hate and harm yourself would be my suggestion.

my rituals of penance all involve self harm and self hatred, and i've had them for longer than i can remember & i don't know how to function without them? i need to find someone who can help me. a therapist once asked me what was left if i removed the shame and guilt from my personality and after 2 weeks to think on it, i told her there's nothing really left of me if you remove those. she told me she couldn't help me and to stop seeing her. i am afraid i am a lost cause.

grimdarkfandango replied to your post:

unfortunately the examples you’re seeking aren’t likely to be on most tv/movies, but they exist in every single real, fat person on earth, every one of whom is valued, loved, and whole. If representation is what you’re seeking to support that change of mindset, try putting real people front & centre, even just following IG accounts to see fat people living their lives positively & let yourself view them the same way

i've started following more & more bigger bodies on instagram but i really have to challenge myself hard because my immediate thoughts are always fatphobic - largely bc i have been programmed to think that way for 35 years, especially when it comes to myself. i need to know how to break that programming, because i have that reaction and immediately feel miserable and ashamed of myself and hate myself even more

consciously i know that fat people can be valued and loved and whole, but subconsciously my brain refuses to accept it and i don't know why i can't get past that. maybe because that would mean accepting that i truly have wasted the last 20 years for nothing

#replies #the-cimmerians #grimdarkfandango #internalized fatphobia #fatphobia #self harm #self hatred

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 2 years

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VO: “... she continued her emotional descent, and a week later, checked into a hospital with severe depression. Identity, she concluded, was not something to play around with.”

Norah: “When you mess around with that, you really mess around with something that you need, that helps you function. And I found out that gender lives in your brain, and it’s something much more than costume. And I really learned that the hard way.”

Norah: “Men are suffering. They have different problems than women have, but they don’t have it better. They need our sympathy, they need our love, and they need each other more than anything else. They need to be together.”

Interviewer: “Do you think women understand what it’s like to be a man?”

Norah: “Not at all. No clue. No idea.”

Messing around in gender ideology will come back to bite you. You can’t just “identify as” without consequences. Who you are is not a set of labels you can just try on and take off like trying on clothes to create an outfit.

I could use the term “crack-up” to characterize what happened next, but it doesn’t really describe what it felt like. “Nervous breakdown” is another handy term of art, but it too does little more than brand the experience as some filmable catastrophe that makes for good TV. The reality was not nearly so dramatic. There was no earthquake. The floor of my house didn’t open and swallow the furniture.

It was all very quiet, as if I had gone out one day to do errands and come home to a summer house where all the chairs and tables had been covered with sheets.

[..]

The deeper cause was in Ned, inherent to him, and had been there from the start. First of all, Ned was an impostor and impostors who aren’t sociopaths eventually implode. Assuming another identity is no simple affair, even when it doesn’t involve a sex change. It takes constant effort, vigilance and energy. A lot of energy. It’s exhausting at the best of times. You are always afraid that someone knows you are not who you say you are, or will know immediately if you make even the slightest false step. You are outside yourself in two senses. First because you are always watching yourself from beside or above, trying to get the performance right and see the pitfalls coming, but also because you are always trying to inhabit the persona of someone who doesn’t exist, even on paper. You don’t have the benefit of a script or character treatment that can tell you how this person thinks, or what his childhood was like, or what he likes to do. He has no history and no substance, and being him is like being an adult thrown back into the worst of someone else’s awkward adolescence.

But there was more to it than that. Ned was also a man, albeit a Potemkin man, all facade and no substance, but I was still very much a woman peering through his windows, and the cognitive dissonance this set up was simply untenable in the long term, like holding two mutually exclusive ideas in my mind while trying to juggle and ride a bicycle at the same time.

Being him was a bit like being a zebra who is trying to pass himself off as a giraffe. Trying to be a man when you are a woman is not just being a horse of a different color, or a person who has traded in her old trappings for new ones: new clothes, new makeup and new hair. Through Ned I learned the hard way that my gender has roots in my brain, possibly biochemical ones, living very close to the core of my self-image. Inseparably close. Far, far closer than my race or class or religion or nationality, so close in fact as to be incomparable with these categories, though it is so often grouped with them in theory.When I plucked out, one by one, my set of gendered characteristics, and slotted in Ned’s, unknowingly I drove the slim end of a wedge into my sense of self, and as I lived as Ned, growing into his life and conjured place in the world, a fault line opened in my mind, precipitating small and then increasingly larger seismic events in my subconscious until the stratum finally gave.

[..]

Ned had built up in my system over time. This allowed me to convey him more convincingly as the project went on, but it was also what made me buckle eventually under his weight. It was to be expected. As one rare (rare because insightful) psychiatrist would later put it to me when I declared that my breakdown would surely impeach me as a narrator, and hence impugn the whole project: “On the contrary, having done what you did, I would have thought you were crazy if you hadn’t had a breakdown.”

[..]

In the end, the biggest surprise in Ned was how powerfully psychological he turned out to be. The key to his success was not in his clothing or his beard or anything else physical that I did to make him seem real. It was in my mental projection of him, a projection that became over time undetectable even to me. People didn’t see him with their eyes. They saw him in their mind’s eye. They saw what I wanted them to see, at least at first, while I still had control over the image. Then later they saw what they expected to see and what I had become without knowing it: the mind-set of Ned.

I know this to be true because in several situations late in the bowling season, for example, or late in my stay at the monastery, I stopped wearing my beard, my glasses, and even at times my binding, yet no one questioned my disguise. No one stopped seeing Ned. They were just as surprised as everyone else when I finally told them the truth.

Even in the thick of the project when I went out into the world as myself, during the off periods when I was writing or taking a break from full-time Ned, people almost invariably mistook me for a man even when I was wearing a tight white T-shirt without a bra. Yet after I had finished the project, detoxed from Ned for several months and reclaimed my mental femininity, people everywhere addressed me as “ma’am” even in the dead of winter when I was wearing a black watch cap and a man’s navy peacoat.Knowing as I do now that my gendered state of mind could have such a powerful effect on other people’s perceptions of me, it is no wonder that that state of mind warped my own perceptions as strongly as it did.

[..]

As Ned wore on I found it increasingly difficult and then impossible to keep my male and female personae intact simultaneously. I have said already that it was like trying to sustain two mutually exclusive ideas in my mind at the same time, and that this cognitive dissonance essentially shut down my brain. To bring myself back from that blackout I had to learn to be my gendered self again and to exclude or even unlearn Ned. I could not live in both worlds at once, so I chose the side to which habit and upbringing have accustomed me, and to which my brain in all likelihood predisposes me.

I say I “chose,” but I use this word in only a limited sense, because I am not sure how much meaningful choice we can exercise in these matters. I think I chose to be Ned somewhat the way a gay person can choose to get married. I put on the trappings, adopted the behaviors and even hypnotized myself into the mentality. But by going through the motions of manhood I did not substantively change my bedrock gender identity any more than one can change one’s sexual preference by adopting a heterosexual lifestyle. Rather than choosing to become a woman again, it is probably truer to say that I reverted to form. I stopped faking it. I came back to myself, and in doing so I forfeited, as I had to, my insider status in the other camp.

-- Norah Vincent, “Self-Made Man” (2006)

This breakdown resulted in her subsequent book, “Voluntary Madness.”

#Norah Vincent #Self Made Man #gender ideology #personal identity #identity politics #male privilege #female privilege #social constructivism #social construct #religion is a mental illness

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illusionoftheabyss · 2 years

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Captain’s Log { 05-10-2022 }

I became a member of of the Qabalistic Order of the Builders of the Adytum about 3 weeks ago.

Oath:

I’m not really supposed to show my curriculum, but whoever sees this, is already On The Level, and no secrecy shall be conveyed to my Brothers and Sisters. Fratres and Sorors. I do not believe in Secrecy, I believe in Open Scholarship and Eduction.

This is what it is like when you are a student of the Mysteries:

In this Order, We learn about how to reprogram the Super-Computer that is the Human Brain. Magick is a Real and True Science, it’s called Esoteric Psychology and learning how to be a better person. At least on the Right Hand Path. My last lesson was to get into better physical shape/create a clean diet. (Vegetarian is the way of Ancient Philosophers but is indeed hard and expensive) and clean my living quarters.

These lessons and materials are all free online, for anyone to read and follow. I just wanted to be involved in a Network of like-minded individuals that have already done what I am about to do. This is how a Secret Society functions: There is a Hierarchy of people that came before you and have done exactly what you have done and learned in a structured manner the same way you are and it is a Tutelage of Teacher to Student along with the actual material.

The Order that I am in dates back to the 1920’s. It’s 100 years old and was founded by the Greatest Occultist who ever Graced the Hermetic Community. His name was Dr. Paul Foster Case ( Born 1884 in New York) and he was raised in a Library. His father was a Deacon at a local church and a librarian, so Dr. Case took advantage of all of the knowledge he could acquire. When he was young, A friend and Dr. Case were discussing the invention of playing cards and this intrigue sent him into the lane of Hermetic and Gnostic Mysticism. He had many Occult books at his fingertips in this early 1900’s Library and he found that playing cards originated from the Ancient Tarot called “ The Game of Man “

He perfected flaws in the original Rider-Waite Tarot Deck and discovered the links between the Tarot, The Qabalistic Tree of Life, Hebrew Gematria, Astrology, Psychology, Meditation, How symbolism is impressed on the subconscious mind, The Science of Color And Sound and Much More. He founded B.O.T.A or The Qabalistic Order of the Builders of the Adytum ( Latin for “ Inner Shrine “). The word “ Adytum “ refers to Jesus of Nazareth “Building The Temple of the Inner Shrine Without Hands” Mark: 14:58.

Exactly 100 years ago, B.O.T.A. Was formed in 1922 by Dr. Case taking bits and pieces from Freemasonry and The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn along with his own Occult Philosophies. This Mystery School is about studying the Mind and becoming a better person through a Real connection with God. I love it.

Here are all of Dr. Paul Foster Case’s works:

Dr. Paul Foster Case is a Greater Magician than Aleister Crowley by far. A True Magi of the Light of the Universal One God and he is so Occulted 😂

( Occult just means Latin for “Hidden” ) Not many people know about him or Builders of the Adytum, but everyone in the Magickal Community should, especially for Tarot Readers.

His works are a MUST for the Aspiring Hermetic Alchemist, Freemason, Witch, Gnostic Philosopher, Occultist and Free-Thinkers Everywhere.

Dr. Case made a special Tarot Deck that is just black and white like that of a coloring book. The Keys are meant to be colored in by the Associate Builder. I just finished all 78 Keys and wanted to share them you.

I cannot insert anymore pictures in this post, therefore, I will have to have a continuation with part II.

May Light Be Extended To You

Upon Your Path

In L. V. X.

~ Fratre J. A. H.

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awkwarddystopianwarlord · 2 years

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Summer is Overrated

All throughout our formative years, it is ingrained into our brains that summer is the bestest, goodest season of the year because school is out and we are free! Sure winter break and spring break are lovely too, but they are a temporary escape from deeds that are not yet finished. We still have more units to go, more exams to study for. We can’t allow ourselves to completely forget what we’ve learned because we still need to return and continue where we left off. When it’s summer though, oh we can forget now. We can dump our memory stores of the whole year into our subconscious and refuse to think about it again until we are forced to for some future assignment. We have no commitments to our education any more. We have no worries about upcoming exams and reports and projects. We can leave all our worries in the past and look to the bright tomorrow of sleeping in and seeing friends.

Until we get a job. Or graduate. Or both.

Summer isn’t really a break anymore. You escape school but now your days are filled with work. You have a new commitment that you have to show up to and function during. You don’t get to sleep in. you don’t have time to see your friends, they’ve all got jobs now too. You’re stuck indoors once again and it’s hot but you have to wear a stupid uniform that involves pants. You’re too tired after work to do anything the rest of the day so even though it’s light until ten pm, you sloth in your room because the feet are sore and the brain is mush. The short nights suck now too since you have to get up early and the sun blasts your eyeballs at five in the morning so you don’t even get a good long sleep to prepare for another work day. Summer isn’t any different now, yet we still act like it is.

I have heard so many automatic ads over the speaker at my drug store telling us all how everyone looks forward the entire year to summer. It haunts my head eight hours a day. I don’t like summer, and therefore, this whole thing I guess is biased. Here’s my reasoning though, due to the fact our climate is extra unhinged now, we have had stupidly hot summer months. I’m talking lethal temperatures given that there is no air conditioning in houses. I lose too much sleep because I cannot for the life of me pass out well when the air is suffocating me. I usually use a comforter and curl around it in a particular way because my body is eighty seven and is very specific about sleeping positions to ease pain. However, if it gets too hot, my comforter gets moved to my upper bunk and I swap it with regular blanket that doesn’t bunch up as well and support my body the way I need it to. I’ve woken up the next day with aches all over too many times. I can’t get to sleep, I can’t stay asleep, I can’t wake up feeling rested. I am constantly uncomfortably overheated and I hate it.

Here’s more reasoning, the job thing. I work all day, four days a week. It may be the most beautiful day ever but if I’m at work, I ain’t enjoying it. I don’t get to have six sleepovers or go to the lake every day or camp for a week. I have work and grocery shopping and laundry and meal prepping and cleaning and resting to do. Not to mention that my friends are also working, or online schooling, or just busy in general. We got shit to do. Saturday is the only day we could all commit to and even then that’s not a for sure thing. We have two people that can drive and one with a car so if we plan a lake day or a sleepover or something that takes more effort than just showing up at my house, we can’t really be spontaneous since the lot of us have different schedules.

So with the heat issue and the lack of free time, summer is just another season where the days are occupied and the soul is feeling overworked. I am completely aware that seasonal depression is legitimate and that people can get affected by the change in air pressure during the finicky rainy months. I know that weather has an impact on the mind. I also know that commercializing summer to such an absurd extent despite it really only being a valid time for teachers and younger school children does not help either. If we are all constantly told that summer is the only good time of year, the only time when anything is worthwhile and fun and carefree then obviously we’re gonna have some resentment towards the other nine months. The holiday season is advertised a bunch too but it’s more chaotic, stressful, and can be a sensitive time for a lot of folks. It’s not as colorful and without consequence. Summer is shown to be the best time of year when we can all finally be productive and relax and enjoy each moment we’re awake. During the rest of the year, it’s inevitably going to feel dull and boring and a waste of time. It’s no fun to be inside, you should be outside, in the sun, breathing the fresh air. You can’t do that if it’s not summer. Yet, with all that pressure to be happy during a season that isn’t even a break anymore, it’s easy to feel like you failed when you didn’t particularly fill your days with wild activities. What’s left now is for you to wait a whole nother year for next summer to hopefully redeem yourself.

Except, that isn’t true. Summer isn’t the end all, be all escape to sheer bliss. Going outside and embracing that bright sun and hefty dose of vitamin d isn’t the only method to bring you joy. Not everybody gets seasonal depression, and even if you do, you can’t just look for the next summer. We need to find a new love for the colder months and rainy days since they’re a part of your life whether or not you like it. Therefore, I’ve made a list of fun things to do when you can’t live in a constant summer.

Going to a movie theater: the experience of this is always fun just because it’s not something you can do at home and thus it feels like an event. Also big screens are exciting.

Indoor sports and games: there’s indoor mini golf, skydiving, rock climbing, escape rooms, and skating rinks. There are arcades, bowling alleys, and pools. We have a couple board game cafes here, so mayhaps there’s something like that in your settlement.

Bars and clubs: if you’re a social butterfly or just like to be in lively environments, well, restaurants, pubs, and nightclubs are a great indoor option.

Here are things my friend group has done during the other seasons so you all don’t think I’m just suggesting things without trying any of them:

We went to Tofino for four days at the end of January. It was wet and not particularly sunny and awkwardly in between cold and warm. It was also a grand time. We stayed at a nice Airbnb house and relished in our wee vacation away from the city and regular lives. Even though it wasn’t super hot and bright out, it still remains my favorite thing I’ve done this year. Also it's the second time we've done this and we went two years ago in February.

We went to Vancouver during Black Friday by accident just for a Japanese dollar store and Hot Topic. Malls are a wonderful way to spend the day inside, perusing stores, and avoiding sad weather. Even if you don’t want to take a two hour ferry to get there, just wander your local mall for a while. We’ve done that too, made a day out of it for the purpose of seeking a couple wants.

We went on a Star Wars marathon. Every second Saturday, because that’s what one of our friends requested, we watched Star Wars in chronological order from the prequels to the Book of Boba Fett. It did not matter if the weather outside was fantastic, we holed up on my three person couch, featuring bean bag, and stared at an entertaining screen for hours. The only times we left was to gather sustenance and even then, sometimes we ordered in.

We went to a fabric store, got some fleece, and sewed frog plushies two Saturdays in a row whilst watching season four of Stranger Things. It was too toasty to go outside, so we didn’t.

We had a sleepover because luckily no one worked on Sunday and we did face masks, went to Red Robin, made banana splits, and went to brunch the next day. Aye, this was after going to a lake and spending a few hours there, but beyond that, we were inside most of the time. The goal was to have a classic sleepover experience so we watched Legally Blonde, then a bunch of dumb and funny Youtube videos, and ate a butt ton of snacks.

One time we played Uno for three hours straight whilst listening to The Piano Man over and over again the whole time.

Recently, we figured out how to operate my Wii that was acting up and played Wii Sports, Wii Sports Resort, and Mario Kart for a decent while.

When a friend was visiting, we decided to go out for dinner, but it was pouring. Instead of surrendering though, the both of us bundled up in sweaters and coats and she even borrowed a pair of my boots. We armed ourselves with all the layers and braved the shitty rain and wind, trudging for fifteen minutes to get to our destination. It was hilarious and stupid and memorable and the warm restaurant and dinner was ever more satisfying in contrast.

There. There’s my proof that you can have a wonderful time inside even when the weather isn’t what you want it to be. As long as you have good company or mildly creative ideas, it won’t matter what the outside looks like because you will always have something fun to keep you occupied. I know it’s easy to blame a grumpy mood on the weather, but us people who have year round depression have to figure out coping mechanisms to keep going, so why shouldn’t the seasonally depressed? It’s not worth being miserable most of the year. You need to look for little things, little joys to push you forward one step, one day, one week. Waiting isn’t going to be enough for you, it isn’t going to satisfy you, because what if, when summer finally does come, you don’t get to do all the things you wanted? What if your plans fall through, the weather isn’t actually all that good, you’re too busy, your friends go on vacation? What happens when the one span of time that was supposed to make you happy doesn’t? There won’t be such a desire to make each summer the best one yet if we put that amount of effort throughout the rest of the year. Finding alternatives to happiness, making back up plans, and being flexible will help your sad brain immensely.

We can’t rely on one thing working out for us, that’s unrealistic. But we can’t simply give up either when it doesn't, that's also unrealistic. Life can still be worth living even when it’s not the life you want to be living. It’ll be through finding wee positives anywhere you can that makes it still worthwhile.

#rants #thoughts #writing #blog #weeklyblog #friday post

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vaguely-concerned · 2 years

Text

thinkingb... about the evolution in the power dynamics in harrow's dream bubble AUs and what it tells us. we go from first completely replicating the original power imbalance between her and gideon except in reverse in the cav/necro switch one. this one is devastating to me because it feels so... stuck, like harrow can't even conceptualize a world yet where their individual existences would not somehow be at the expense of the other. it has the same cast as their actual childhoods, and the characters play themselves out like they did in real life even with their roles reversed, and with the same logic.

but THEN in the one where they’re at the party and gideon is the emperor’s daughter/the ~*princess*~ something starts to happen! we bring in ‘new’ characters in a mirror of coming to canaan house in the real world, with only aiglamene left representing the ninth with her. gideon is still above her in status/power in this one, but in a setting where the possibility of being raised to her level -- BY MARRIAGE! by gideon's choice alone, should she want to make it!!! -- is literally baked into the entire point of the structure of the event she's conjured up, societally and emotionally. it's expressed in terms of politics by way of romance novel structure. (also makes me wonder how harrow actually thinks inter-house politics function fdshkfjas she's just been out there on a cold rock on the outskirts of the solar system, her understanding of what a party is seems wholly academic.) that power imbalance subconsciously still involves giving up(/enforcing, yay codependency) all your agency and emotional wellbeing to someone else, just like harrow is doing in the pool scene in a way --

"I’ve lived my whole wretched life at your mercy, yours alone, and God knows I deserve to die at your hand. You are my only friend. I am undone without you.”

but it's getting there. in any real structural sense harrow has always, always had the power in their imbalanced dynamic and I think that’s part of what she’s trying to process here by putting herself on gideon’s side of it, but on the interpersonal/internal scale it’s been much more complicated and entwined than that and it echoes that too.

it's the guilty, repressed thrill of '...but what if griddle would still choose me if she had every freedom and all other options before her. what if she'd choose me and stay with me even if I didn't forcibly keep her from going?' (which is like... what a lot of their dynamic in the first part of GtN is partially about, when you go back to it with HtN in mind. gideon feels more threatened by the idea of harrow’s indifference than by her cruelty and possessiveness, because harrow hating her always meant more than anyone else loving her, and harrow keeps saying ‘please don’t leave me’ in the most violent and toxic of ways. because gideon only exists via harrow, and vice versa, and they’ve been stuck like that so long. oh boy.) so like. in the same type of situation where harrow decided ‘I must no longer accept being a stranger to you’ in the real world (having left the ninth house for the larger world of all the houses) she has made them actual strangers in the dream, but with hope that they might not continue to be? idk it feels like there’s a lot going on here.

and then in the coffee shop AU they meet as equals, as two people completely outside the dark dreary confines of the ninth and the power imbalance that raised them, and that's where we finally get to actually see gideon in harrow's mind's eye -- and see feelings about gideon harrow normally doesn't let herself look at directly (it involves strong arms ~*dewy with sweat*~ and a lovingly enraptured description of her crooked smile haha. harrow is not good at handling romantic or sexual feelings normally but it rises so sweetly and uncomplicatedly in this one, like it doesn't anywhere else in either of the books to my memory. her attraction to The Body is more like reverent despair, and her attraction to ianthe is....... deeply emotionally ambivalent let's say lol, but this one time it's a description more like the normal belly butterflies you'd get from being in love without quite so much dread or disgust getting twined into it). I think this one is the closest to what harrow actually desperately wants for them as her wildest fantasy -- not that she wants to join the cohort or anything, but to be able to meet as whole, individuated people who have a fighting chance not to break each other.

like... harrow the war crime who feels like she has to live her life in debt to the 200 souls that ensured her existence, harrow who's a lyctor and servant of god and has been in love with a dead woman since she was ten... and the dream inside her that's so strong it almost pulls dead souls back from the river is just to meet gideon somewhere they haven't hurt each other yet, where neither of them has to hurt each other anymore. (or hurt themselves for the other, or use the other as a means to hurt themselves, which is its own endless ouroboros because of their enmeshed state -- everything they do to each other hurts them both as the gideon-harrowhark harrowhark-gideon unit they've been attachment-wise for so long even before lyctorhood made it literal. it's all gideon thinks she is good for, an idea harrow finds so utterly horrifying and repellent that she *waves at entirety of HtN* did THAT essentially to disprove it.) which is still a huge step away from managing to process, accept and live with the ways they HAVE hurt each other and that they might still find a way to touch without doing so again. tellingly this fantasy is still within the power structures of the empire, even if it’s no longer claustrophobically contained to the ninth house and their past in it. God knows they’ve got so, SO far to go before they even theoretically could get there but like... again, I really do believe that is harrow’s dream. give the poor kid a break and let her have this coffee shop AU for now, she's literally dying and holy shit has she Been Through It fjskdafsda

#harrow the ninth spoilers #harrow the ninth #the locked tomb #griddlehark #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #the locked tomb meta #I'm not sure how coherent this is but I keep thinking about it so I needed to get some of it down on paper and out of my head lol #be free little thoughts and don't darken my fucking doorstep again istg

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iovchlde · 3 years

Note

hi!! may i request some reverse comfort headcanons for diluc, kaeya, childe, and xiao? maybe about relationship insecurity or something of that sort??

relationship flaws and insecurities.

no one is perfect— so what exactly are their flaws in a relationship? and what do they feel most conscious of in a relationship?

featuring diluc, kaeya, childe, xiao

diluc

he feels that he might scare you off with his overprotectiveness. he’s already lost someone before, and he doesn’t think he can handle losing you either.

it’s not that he wants to control your life— in fact, he wants you to live it to its full extent. but there’s always that small worry, an annoying voice, in the back of his head that reminds him that the wilderness of teyvat is dangerous.

subconsciously, he may find himself interrogating you if you plan on leaving the house early in the morning, or late at night. there’ll be times where small quarrels stem from this, and inevitably it can get heated sometimes.

if you walk out on him for more hours than what feels comfortable, to cool off, he might start to think if you’ve left him for good.

diluc’s sitting at the edge of the bed, and there’s a consistent tapping on the floor as he anxiously drums his foot against it. it’s way past his assigned time to sleep, knowing he has to be up early to run his business. he doesn’t have half the mind to check what time it is, at least, not right now. all he can think about is that you’ve been gone for way too long.

he expects this from the two of you, especially after a heated argument. you two take the time away from one another to cool off and collect your thoughts, but this? this is just outrageous. if he were to give an estimate for how long you’d been gone�� it would be two hours longer than you’d typically be gone for. and this just feeds into his worries from earlier, about your well-being.

the whole fight was about you and your safety after all. you would tell him that you’re fully capable of looking out for yourself; he’d say that he has enemies who may come after you; it goes back-and-forth. sensing that the argument was getting nowhere, you took it upon yourself to see yourself out first. “let’s just,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “let’s just take time to cool off for a bit, shall we?”

“it’s been longer than a bit,” he mutters to himself.

he’s snapped out his thoughts as he hears the bedroom doors open slowly. you peek your head in, just to make eye contact with diluc. you two freeze, simply caught off-guard in the moment. he notes how your hair is a mess— it sticks out in certain areas, and obviously has not been brushed down— and you look a bit rugged. “hey,” you mutter sheepishly.

he wonders if he should ask you where you’ve been, but he holds his tongue. “are you okay?” diluc asks instead, and there’s a certain tenderness in his voice as he addresses you. “you look a bit... rough.”

you snort, throwing a feign hand of offense over your chest, at his words. “gee, thanks. nice to know i’m looking very appealing right now.” you joke. he stares at you, but you can see the faint smile on his lips at the way you’re joking around already. it’s good to know that you two are still okay. “but to answer your question, yes. i simply tripped over a pebble— it was so dark out and my foot got caught. who would’ve known that a pebble would be the one to take me down.”

he laughs at this, and you feel the tension from the argument completely lift.

kaeya

he’ll often wonder if you’re slowly becoming untrusting of him. he’s generally reserved, and quite mysterious— and it could easily be read in the wrong way.

kaeya knows that a relationship is all about communication and trust, well, for it to be healthy at least. and for the most part, he’s pretty open with you.

but there’s still certain aspects of his life that keeps in the dark from you. from his unknown past, to the business he does out of the knight of favonius— he likes that you look up to him as a respectable knight.

sometimes, you’ll ask him why he has duties to attend to at the dead of night, to which he reassuringly tells you that he’s simply off to bother diluc at the tavern. but he knows you’re catching on— diluc hasn’t seen him in the tavern for quite a bit.

“i know you haven’t been at the tavern.” you finally speak up, and you keep your eyes trained on the plate of food in front of you. you dig at the food, poking it around with your utensils— anything to keep your mind off of the fact that your heart is slightly racing right now. you don’t mean to be confrontational, but to be frank, you’re fed up that kaeya hasn’t been honest with you. “you can say that it came as a surprise to me when diluc said you hadn’t been there for a while now.”

“i guess it was only a matter of time before you’d ask diluc about me, and my whereabouts.” he sighs. he’s leaned into his chair by now, and he’s looking at you. your lips are locked into a tight line, a little peeved at the way he still talks so smoothly, and treats this so casually. as if he weren’t taking this seriously, and that this was just some other conversation to him. “i’m simply handling nightly duties.”

your grip becomes slightly tighter around your utensils, and he notices; your knuckles are turning slightly white, and your breathing is slightly out of pace. there’s a small change in his expression, and you can see the way his eyes narrow slightly.

“does it hurt to be honest to me about these things?” you ask him, genuinely hurt at the way it feels like he doesn’t trust you enough. “as your significant other, i guess i’d expected you to be more open to me. i’ve already told you countless times that no matter what, i’ll stick around— and even right now, i mean those words.”

once i tell, there’s no going back, is what he wishes to say. that it’ll be hard to look at someone the same way you’ve done before. “look,” he says as he sighs. kaeya wracks his mind for a way to respond— in a way where he wouldn’t be lying, but he wouldn’t subject you to danger either. “these matters, my nightly duties if you will, are matters between the abyss order and i. i’m afraid that if i tell you anything more about what goes on, you’ll become a target as well. too much knowledge can be harmful.”

“and you couldn’t just tell me that from the get-go?” it’s a fair point, and he throws you an apologetic look from across the table. “i understand, okay? just,” you swipe a hand through your hair. “no more secrets. i don’t think i’ll be as understanding if there’s a next time.”

“of course, my love.”

childe

he fears that one day, he’ll come home and you won’t be there anymore; his involvement with the fatui doesn’t make it any better.

the fatui is known for... it’s notorious deeds, to put it lightly. he had warned you beforehand, that dating a fatui harbinger will be exhausting. mentally, that is.

he’s bloodthirsty and thrill-seeking— it’s his nature. but he knows you don’t agree with the brutal ways the fatui handles their business, and he tries his best to take your mind off of it.

but it’s hard to ignore the words that circulate around liyue about certain things that he’s been up to. childe wonders that if you’ll get fed up one day, and just leave him.

there’s always a small amount of anxiety that bubbles up within childe whenever he approaches the doors of your shared bedroom. there’s that slightly irrational fear that he’ll walk in, and the room will be empty; you won’t be beneath the sheets in deep sleep, and your small breaths wouldn’t fill the room. his hand is hovering over the doorknob, and he almost laughs. a man like him, who stares death in its eyes, too afraid to open the door in fear that he’ll see something he doesn’t like.

childe gathers the courage to twist the knob, and the door creaks softly as he pushes it open. he pauses halfway, the fear taking over him for a second, but pushes through. he lets out an audible breath of relief— seeing you alive and well in front of him, and the comforts of just seeing that. his shoulders slack visibly at the confirmation, and he allows himself to enter the room.

he strips himself of clothes that he’s worn outside, changing into ones more fitting for bed. he’d jump straight into your arms if he could— but he knows that even in a sleepy state, you would still scold him.

he stalks towards the bed after doing the necessities. you stir at the way the bed dips beside you, feeling a pair of strong arms wrap around you. “childe?” you mutter. your voice is laced with sleepiness having just awoken, and you’re rubbing at your eyes as you turn to face him. it takes a second for your brain to start functioning, and you blurt out the first word that comes to mind. “hi.”

“hi to you too,” he mirrors, a small smile gracing his lips. your eyes are barely open as you glance at him, and your words are slightly slurred— but despite that, he truly thinks he’s the luckiest man in the world that he has someone as good as you. someone who sticks around, despite his affiliation. “i’ve missed you a lot, y’know.” he says.

“i missed you more,” you challenge, even in your sleep driven state.

he chuckles at you, before pressing a small kiss to your nose. “sure, sure. let’s fight about who misses each other more in the morning, okay?”

xiao

he’ll often doubt why you’re with him— and wonder if there’ll ever be a day where you run out of patience with him.

he’s getting better with affection, and he’s not finding it as weird as he had before. he doesn’t initiate things, still too embarrassed about the last time he failed to hug you. he wants things to be intimate, but there are still times where he flinches if you touch his hand or hug him, after forgetting to give him a heads up.

you always smile at him, and tell him that you care for his comfort the most. he can see the pain behind your smile though— almost a year of dating and he still hasn’t warmed up to you.

xiao still doesn’t fully understand the logic and need behind affection. but what he does know is that humans seek affection. they are social beings after all. knowing that, he worries that you’ll eventually want someone else who can give you the affection that you deserve.

“i’m sorry,” xiao apologizes in a panic. he was so thrown off-guard and so deep in his thought, that when you’d given him a back hug, he had reacted more violently than intended. thus, he had instinctively pushed you off his shoulder. it was hard to miss the flash of hurt in your eyes as you stumbled back, a little baffled, not expecting xiao to react in a such a way. “i... i apologize for that, y/n.”

it’s easy to notice the literal distance between you two and he reaches out for you, to which he stops himself midway. there’s just something that feels so wrong about touching you right now, especially after he’d just shoved you— it doesn’t feel right. even to now, he’s still scared of touching you. he finds himself getting frustrated at the way that he just can’t wrap his head around doing things in a romantic aspect. even he’s running out of patience with himself, so why do you still have so much?

you notice the way his hand stops, and you can see the countless of emotions within his eyes as he stares at his hands. there’s little glimpses of worry, of self-doubt, and you can tell right now that he’s being critical of himself. you don’t blame him for reacting that way, now that you look back on it in hindsight. anyone would’ve reacted like that as a form of self-defense.

“it’s alright, xiao, it really is.” you reassure him. “don’t be too harsh on yourself, okay? i said we’d take it as slow as we have to, and i plan on keeping my word for that. now... may i?” you gesture to his outstretched hand. he gives you a blank look at first, but nods slowly.

you take his hands in yours— you take your time to link your fingers, intertwining them and appreciating the way they mold together perfectly. you let him feel the way you draw soothing circles on the back of his hand. it’s such a simple action, but it flows with intimacy, and it has a weird feeling erupting in his stomach. (butterflies, he recalls you telling him.)

“see this?” you raise your linked hands. “if this is what you’re comfortable with at the moment, then i’m more than willing to hold hands for as long as you want.”

he wonders if you’ll grow impatient with him— but for now, he’s reassured you’ll stick around.

author’s note.

i’ve put this off for so long, and i intended on keeping it short— but then i felt bad and so i decided to indulge just a little

#genshin impact #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst #genshin diluc #genshin xiao #genshin kaeya #genshin childe #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader

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isthataneren · 4 years

Text

hugs ~ hcs

a/n: deep down, once you get past the overwhelming anxiety involving affection, all I really want to do is hug people

∫ summary: you love hugging. a lot. how would the bakusquad react?

∫ pairings: bakusquad(individual) x crush!reader

∫ warnings: none, fluffy fluff

Bakugou Katsuki:

Sitting in the common room with the others Bakugou was grumpy

All he wanted to do was go to his room and not talk to anybody for the rest of the day; well, the only exception being you

But he couldn’t just single you out from the rest of the losers he hangs out with

That would make it too obvious that he feels a little different towards you than he does them

It’s definitely not a crush though

Yeah sure whatever you say

So he just is forced to sit through another insufferable game that the others are playing because he’s hoping to at least see you before he high tails it to his room for the rest of the day

They forced him to play a round of Mario Kart but after he almost breaks the tv they decide it’s best to let him just spectate

Except he’s on his phone so he’s not paying attention

Which is precisely why he didn’t see you enter the room until he heard Mina squeal as you plopped down on her lap

“Hey! you know I love your hugs but I’m on my last lap. Go sit on Bakugou! He won’t mind”

“Like hell I won’t!”

He wouldn’t

But he had to keep up the facade

That didn’t last for long though

You shuffled your way over to him, standing and pouting slightly waiting for him to consent

Good god that cute face is going to be the death of him

Sighing, he just uncrossed his arms and opened them slightly

You brightened up at the invitation, not actually have expected for him to do it

Without waiting for him to take the offer back you climbed into his lap, wrapping your legs and arms around him

Stiffly put his arms around you

After a minute he relaxes a little, running his hand down your back once before securing it around your waist

You sigh into his neck

“Thank you”

He just grunts in return

Doesn’t want to admit it but he likes it more than he thought he would

Won’t want you to do it in public again though

He never heard the end of the squad’s teasing

Kirishima Eijiro:

Loves it

Though it does catch him off guard

Especially when you do it in public

So he was out with you and his friends

And they were currently getting food and left you two alone together

Definitely on purpose on Mina’s part

You were playing on your phone next to him while he was just admiring you with a big smile on his face

How were you so cute??

He felt so lucky to be able to know you, even if you weren’t dating yet

Totally didn’t notice that you noticed that he was staring at you

You took the opportunity to put your phone aside and turn to him

Blushes when he realized he was caught

“Can I hug you?”

The questions takes him off guard for a moment

“Hug me?”

You nod enthusiastically

His heart melts at your smile

Once he shakes out of his stupor, he grins brightly

“Of course!”

Within a second you were hugging

It was a little awkward with you both sitting but you made it work

His arms loosely wrapped around your waist as your arms did the same

His head rested on top of yours

It was a sweet hug

Not too tight or too loose

You were both so caught up in your own little blissful worlds that you didn’t even realize when the others showed back up

“AWWW! Man, they’re so cute!”

You both sprang apart, cheeks hot with embarrassment

“Kaminari! You scared them!”

“Sorry dude”

Kiri sighs before smiling softly at you

Maybe next time he can hold you for a little longer

Kaminari Denki:

You were worried about a test that was due to take place the following day

Mina assured you that you would do fine but you were still worried

Kaminari jumped in to support, telling you that as long as you did better than him, you would be fine

This caused you to uno reverse and start saying supportive things back to him

It became a competition on who could be more enthusiastic about the test

You both did a review together that night, seeing as you convinced him to do a last minute study session in preparation

Later on the next day you were waiting for the results from the test that you took, head swimming with anticipation

When you finally got your grade back your eyes widened and you looked at Kaminari, who was already looking at you with the same expression

“We passed!!!”

Next thing he knew, a weight slammed into him

kaminari.exe has stopped functioning

Did his crush, whom he is always trying to get attention from, just hug him???

Is this real??

All thoughts of the test flew out of his mind as he blanked

It took him almost a solid minute to realize that his arms had wrapped around you subconsciously and that you were rambling about how well he did

He snapped out of his stupor and squeezed you tightly

“You did really well too! Don’t give me all the credit.”

Tries to act nonchalant but fails miserably

His face is red but he's smiling goofily

When you pull away he already is counting down the minutes until you hug him again

Mina Ashido:

Yes yes yes

She loves affection, so when you are even slightly affectionate she wants to combust

You both were in her room doing your homework together so you could watch a movie after you were finished

She was already itching to wrap you in a hug but she wanted to at least finish some of her homework beforehand

Since you told her that she couldn’t hug you until she did

Pouting but trying her best

Once she got five questions right without a mistake you pulled her into a quick hug

Now she was really craving a cuddle

It felt like she had a mountain of work left but she pushed on as best as she could, thoughts of cuddling for the rest of the night kept her energized

Finally, finally she finished her work and was practically dragging you to her bed for snuggles

You barely got the movie turned on before she wrapped every possible limb around you, head buried in your chest

Can’t believe that she was able to make it that long without affection tbh

So dramatic

Granted, you were also surprised you could suppress it too

Considering Mina is great at hugs

They’re quite addicting

Alas, I digress

Seeing as you couldn’t move very well, you couldn’t return the love that you were receiving

“Uhh Mina?”

She hummed happily against your chest

“I want to cuddle you too”

“Huh?”

She realized the position that you were in

“Oh! Whoops”

Releasing her hold on you slightly, she moved a little to the side to make it more comfortable for you to wrap your arms around her, burying your face in her hair

She couldn’t be any more happy than this

Well, she would be if she could give you kisses too

But she’ll have to save that for later ;)

Sero Hanta:

Happy baby

But also a little shy (just a little tho)

It was break time between classes and he was standing in the hallway next to the vending machine, talking to his friends

There was only a couple minutes left before he had to get back to class but he was making the most of it

It had been a pretty chill week for everyone, all things considering

No villains, no tests

Just normal school stuff plus hero training

Everyone was quite relieved about that

The only thing is Sero hasn’t seen you in a while

Usually you hang out with Mina so, in extension, the rest of the squad as well

But you’ve been gone the last week on a trip with your relatives

You got back two days before but he only saw you in class since you had to do extra stuff to make up work

It seems that you finally got a break, though

He felt arms wind around his waist, a body pressing close to his side

Startled, he looks at the person only to recognize them immediately

You tucked yourself against him, face pressed into his neck

He could physically feel the tension leaving your body as you relaxed against him

Smiling, he wound an arm around your waist, pulling you a little in front of him before wrapping his other arm around you

“How was your week?”

You groaned

“Don’t get me started”

He chuckled lightly before going back to the conversation he was having, rubbing your back softly

Kirishima didn’t say anything, just smiled and continued talking to Sero

Kaminari wiggled his eyebrows at his friend, who, if you squinted close enough, had a faint blush on his cheeks

So maybe he was a little flustered at the sudden PDA

But he cherished every moment with you

So he didn’t mind

He only hoped he could work up the courage to properly ask you out sometime in the future

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

The Brothers and Side Characters Go on a Road Trip!

So, Diavolo, Lord of the Devildom, wants to go on a road trip for reasons unknown. You know what? Screw it, the reason is because Dia wants to do a fun human thing because MC brought it up during tea time. No one can defy the king, so TIME FOR A ROAD TRIP!

Shut Up! HE DOESN’T NEED DIRECTIONS! (Lucifer)

He was going to turn that car around. That’s it, he was going to leave. Someone else drive.

I hope your MC likes staticky traffic updates because that’s what Lucifer constantly had on the radio.

Obviously, some of the brothers complained, so Lucifer put on Beethoven’s Symphony no. 9. HELL YEAH TURN IT UP DJ!

Lol JK no one can car-dance to classical music. Just go back to the staticky traffic updates…

Lucifer would have preferred it if MC or Barbatos were riding shotgun next to him, but Diavolo ended up getting it. Dia is constantly asking Lucifer to stop so he can take pictures of the most mundane shit.

Lucifer stopped stopping after the first fifteen requests.

“I’m not stopping at McDonalds- hang on. Hi McDonald’s employee, one black coffee please.”

In true father fashion, Lucifer got lost and REFUSED to ask for directions. They were lost for five hours before Diavolo finally asked:

“Lucifer, you can turn on the GPS right?”

“Yes, but I don’t trust it.”

Everyone screamed in frustration and were all fully prepared to abandon Lucifer at the side of the road.

Please… can someone else drive? Anyone else…

Are We There Yeeeet..? (Mammon)

Okay, so, Mammon was one of two ways on that road trip. One: complete ADHD daydream zoned out. Or type Two: AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRREEEEE WEEEEEEEE THEEEEEEEEERRRRRREEEE YEEEEEEET???!

He wanted to stop and go to all the tourist traps, by the end of the road trip Mammon wanted to open his own.

The Avatar of Greed loves driving, problem is, he’s used to driving off into the sunset as a lone bachelor, not with his friends and brothers in the car as well.

He only got to drive once, and it was awful. 0/10 would not recommend. Luke thought MC was driving and called shotgun…

Mammon just turns on the radio for music and hopes something good is on at least ONE channel.

STOP WEAVING BETWEEN LANES YOU MORON-

Not all of Mammon’s time driving was bad, the combined powers of Luke and Mammon meant that everyone stopped at a petting zoo at the side of the road. Everyone had a good time, even though when they got back into the car they all smelled like a farm.

Did anyone else hear that oinking in the car-

*Vibes to Music in the Backseat* (Levi)

After being cruelly dragged from his room and placed in this stupid van… he just climbed into the backseat and put on his headphones.

Maybe anime openings could drown out this problem…

Levi only drove for fifteen minutes, it was the most terrifying fifteen minutes of everyone’s lives.

Mario Kart is not a substitute for proper driving school!

Listen- Levi actually saved the entire trip, after stopping at a gas station everyone noticed that Levi never complained about what was on the radio because he was wearing headphones, so everyone bought their own pair and the car trip was so much more pleasant…

No matter how many times Lucifer told Levi to get his feet off the seat, he wouldn’t listen, he was GAMING and they took him away from his gaming chair! HE NEEDED TO SCRUNCH HIMSELF UP LIKE A GOBLIN TO FOCUS DAMMIT!

Whenever the car would stop so everyone could get out and take a picture or look at something, Levi had to be practically dragged out of the car and manually posed for the pictures.

“Is this one of those vans with TVs in them? I brought the first five volumes of TSL on DVD!”

While Satan was driving they stopped at a lake, and Levi burst out of the car and made friends with all the lake fish.

He was still soaking wet when they had to leave.

I’m a Responsible Driver- IS THAT AN OLD BOOKSTORE?! (Satan)

Satan, we believed in you…

Our favourite nerd wanted to stop at any and all historical spots or cool looking bookstores he saw.

When everyone went to buy headphones, he got a pair with cat-ears on them! Because obviously!

Satan’s a responsible driver, and he’s not as prone to road rage as one might think. He has patience, remember in the Jobs event when he worked in customer service? Those kinds of jobs take a godlike amount of self control to do.

Asmo called shotgun and Satan got to have the wonderful experience of having his ear chatted off by his dear brother.

Satan was not about to have fast food for the eighth time in four days, if everyone wanted food, he’d stop at a restaurant.

He was terribly sorry to anyone who needed to use the restroom, but they should have gone at the last rest stop.

When Satan stopped at the lake, he gave everyone a long lecture on the historical significance of the place, then noticed that Levi was being crowned king of the lake and decided he should cut his history lesson short before Levi abandoned his family to chill with the fish forever.

I wanted Satan to be the normal chill one with the radio… I really did… but deep in my subconscious I feel like Satan would put on one of those language learning DVDs so he can learn another language on the go like a total dork.

Road Rage (Asmodeus)

No one saw this coming but- Asmo gets some B A D road rage. Someone cuts him off? “Hi hello dear, WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SHOVE MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS?!” Someone doesn’t use a turn signal? “YOU BRAIN DEAD MORON! LEARN TO DRIVE!” Someone just pisses him off? “*prolonged horn sound*”

It’s just… the car trip was so taxing on the poor Avatar of Lust… he was crammed into the middle seat for the majority of the trip… he had to give his sleeping mask to Belphie… Beel was getting crumbs all over him and he couldn’t move over… just so tragic…

Solomon called shotgun and it was the greatest couple of hours of his life. He got a front row seat to Lucifer and Barbatos dragging Asmo back into the car because he tried to pick a fight with another driver.

Asmo wasn’t having a good time…

He didn’t want to stop for any gas station food or go through a drive-thru so it was another expensive restaurant trip. Rest In Peace to the gang’s wallets.

When he wasn’t driving, Asmo was loudly talking with MC or talking on the phone. It was a blessing in disguise when they went through an area with bad phone reception and Asmo finally had to shut up.

Oh well… at least he got a few nice pictures for Devilgram.

MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! (Beel)

We all know Beel is massive, right? His head is touching the ceiling and every speed-bump hurt.

He’s the one begging to stop at every gas station or fast food place they pass by.

Beel’s section in the car was covered in empty bags of Doritos by the end of the trip.

When Beel got to drive, Belphie got shotgun! Hell yeah dream team!

Poor Beel, he got distracted and ended up somehow popping a tire. He pulled over next to a farm, changed the tire, then got back in the car and kept driving.

Uh… there was an awful lack of snoring next to Beel- OH FUCK THEY LEFT BELPHIE!

Belphie was found sleeping next to the cows on the farm they had stopped at earlier.

The cows didn’t want to give their sleepy god up so easily…

After that… Beel didn’t want to drive anymore…

“Look, cows.” (Belphie)

I really need to stop with the cow jokes but I CAN’T

*snore*

Belphie’s crammed between Beel and MC for most of the trip and is probably drooling all over poor MC’s lap or shoulder.

Beware, he jolts up randomly and looks around in a panic before he realizes he’s in a car. This happens every three hours.

Belphie’s not allowed to drive, he’d fall asleep. But when Lucifer takes the wheel and puts on that fucking staticky radio, Belphie forms an idea.

“*ahem* four thousand bottles of beer on the wall, four thousand bottles of beer,”

Mission success, Lucifer wanted to tear his hair out.

Belphie ended up asking to stop when they get to a stretch of road with no streetlights, everyone got out of the and stared at the stars.

…listen, it’s a miracle no one got axe murdered but the stars were gorgeous.

Remember when I said Satan put on those language learning DVDs? Yeah uh…. Belphie woke up from his last nap of the trip almost fully fluent in Spanish. At least one person gained a new skill on this trip…

Oooo, Look at Thaaaaat! (Diavolo)

Even though the side characters were in a different car most of the time, sometimes people would switch to the other car if they met up at a gas station.

By the end of the road trip Dia looked like one of those tourist dads, Hawaiian shirt and all.

Dia can’t drive

He’s absorbing human culture… and human culture involves ordering everything at this random Wendy’s.

Diavolo’s camera roll is so unbelievably full by the end of the trip and he refuses to delete ANY of the pictures.

Most of the pictures are of really weird and boring stuff, like traffic signs and trees, but the picture he ends up printing out and putting in a picture frame is a picture of the whole group at the petting zoo having a grand old time.

He wanted to take home a baby goat but Barbatos said that wasn’t a good idea :(

Help. (Barbatos)

So, it could have been worse for Barbatos, he could have been stuck in the car with the brothers and MC.

Dia always had the seat up front, but when he left the car to go hang out with the dude-squad, Solomon got the passenger seat.

Solomon decided it would be a good idea to pester Barbatos to go faster and take weird shortcuts through (probably not legal) backroads and creepy forest paths.

Good thing Barbatos, Luke, and Simeon had functioning brain cells and knew that’s how horror movies began.

Barbatos stopped for fast food once and only once. It’s not healthy!

He’s the only driver to take suggestions for music, meaning that the side characters’ car was the best one of the two.

“SOMEONE GET THE BARF BAG!”(Simeon)

He’s just… he’s just trying his best not to vomit…

Simeon thought the car would be a good place to get some writing done while they drove down long stretches of road. Simeon was wrong in that assumption.

With his head down way too much while the car zoomed down the highway, Simeon felt himself getting *very* sick about four hours in.

He was worried he may have accidentally eaten something of Solomon’s… but nope. The angel was carsick.

Luke had the important job of patting Simeon on the back as he leaned over the barf-bag while Solomon dry heaved up front.

Hurry and open the windows before Solomon barfs too!!!!

Other than the car sickness, he had the job of making sure Luke was entertained, there was a good hour of eye-spy until they just got to a stretch of forest.

After that, Simeon realized that he could just give Luke free permission to ramble about whatever he wanted and that would keep the little guy entertained for HOURS.

What do You Mean I Can’t Legally Make This Turn?! (Solomon)

Shifty bastard can drive, problem is, he doesn’t care about the laws of the road.

He ended up getting pulled over after breaking approximately 11 traffic laws in less than ten minutes.

“License and registration.” “Yeah yeah yeah…” “…sir, this license expired in 1989.” “…shit.”

Solomon gunned it and managed to use his magic to hide the car and evade the very confused traffic cop.

Luke was completely aghast at the flagrant law breaking, but Solomon’s excuse was that the 80s were a lawless wasteland and he completely forgot he legally had to update his license.

He’s an equally obnoxious passenger as he is driver, but at least no one in the car is bored.

“You know, back in the day cars didn’t have seatbelts.” “Solomon put your seatbelt back on.”

…Can we keep it? (Luke)

He was against this from the start. A road trip? With those nasty demons? No! Never!

Okay fine… maybe he wanted to see some more of the human world… he agreed to go.

After helping Simeon through his car sickness, he misheard the other car say that MC would be driving, and Luke wanted to hang out with his third parent 🥺

That’s how he ended up riding shotgun next to Mammon. It started out rough, but when the two spotted the petting zoo it was all sunshine and rainbows.

Luke made friends with all the animals! He was like a little Disney Prince. He got especially attached to this one piglet, it was a surprise to Simeon that the goodbye wasn’t tearful.

Luke smuggled that piglet out of the petting zoo and they were all over fifty miles away before anyone noticed.

Of course, everyone was just shocked that Luke had stolen something, but he looked so cute holding the little piggy… awwww…

The bros obviously joked that Luke had gone to the dark side and was totally evil because he had taken the pig, much to the poor kid’s dismay.

Simeon tried to convince Luke that he needed to return the piglet but Luke was adamant that he could totally take good care of it.

Welp, time for Lucifer to fix this.

“Luke, you need to go put the pig back, it’s not yours.”

“No! I’ll take good care of it!”

“That doesn’t matter, you stole it. It’s not your property, do you want to end up a scummy thief like Mammon?”

“No not at all. Let’s go return the pig.”

“THAT’S ALL IT TOOK?!”

#Obey me #Obey me!#Obey me Headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Luke #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Diavolo #Obey me Solomon #Obey me Barbatos #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Satan

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constancelaufeydottir · 3 years

Text

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Neighbour!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Mentions of knife, blood, cursing, murder, mention of cannibalism, dark!Bucky(?), major character death, slight smut, fluff.

Summary: Bucky set his eyes on his sweet and cute neighbour who had suffered from a loss recently, determined to make her his.

Word count: 4.3k

a/n: This is my entry for @ambrosiase hotel indigo writing challenge. It’s my first ever writing challenge, and I had a lot of fun writing this! Honestly, I'm really grateful for this challenge because it motivates me to finish this wip that has been sitting in the draft for too long. Thank you for this lovely challenge mae ♡♡

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. If you see any mistakes, do let me know!

Room ⥤ Modern muse

Room service ⥤ neighbour + criminal

“Oh that poor thing.”

Bucky whipped his head in the direction of the voice. It was Mrs. Lockwood, his neighbour on the right.

“Huh?” He didn’t mean to voice out his confusion, but his brain was somewhat short-circuited, barely able to function when his sight was filled with you, and you only.

“That sweet girl over there,” Mrs. Lockwood was referring to you, his sweet neighbour to the left he was staring at, before the old lady came interrupting.

He had been staring for 5, 10 minutes maybe? He swore he wasn’t a pervert, you were just a sight for sore eyes, the healer of the wounds in his soul.

“What about y/n?” He asked, curious to listen to what his neighbour would say about the other neighbour. Also, he was fairly new to the neighbourhood, having just moved in last month, he ought to catch up with the gossip.

“Her boyfriend went missing a few months back, poor girl was devastated. Police suspected it was murder, even suspected y/n!” The old lady shook her head, casting pitying glances at the oblivious girl in the sundress, bathing under the sun with a book in her hand. “She’s such a sweet girl, how could they have suspected her?”

Bucky glanced at you, heart racing when you caught him looking. You shyly waved at him, a small smile plastered on your face hiding the underlying sadness of the loss of your loved one. His hand felt clammy when he raised one of them to wave back, his usual flirty self vanished whenever you were involved in the equation.

“Boy, you are in love aren’t ya,” Mrs. Lockwood teased, “I say go for it. Our lovely y/n definitely needs some lovin’ after what she’d been through and young man, I think you are the right person.” Her eyes crinkled as she patted Bucky encouragingly on the shoulder, like a loving mother cheering up her son.

Bucky, who was usually composed, blushed furiously. That big brain of his still hadn’t regained its functions thus he found himself unable to stop Mrs. Lockwood when she hollered at you.

Clearly immersed in your book, you jumped a little when you heard your name being called.

“Y/n, this young man would love to take you out on a date, what d’ya say?” His eyes widened at the accusation, though it was true that he wanted to date you, he just needed time to gather the guts to ask you out.

He saw you put down your book, walking towards him and Mrs. Lockwood. You were a front yard away from him, shielding the harsh sunlight from your eyes with your hands while leaning onto the fence.

“I’d love to,” you had to speak louder, and Bucky loved your voice as he only heard it only a handful of times now, often you were shy and quiet when you saw him.

“U-uhm, how about Saturday then,” He stuttered like a teenage boy who first received a love letter, suddenly forgetting how to speak, speech lost in the sea of disbelief and excitement, and affection.

You said nothing, only nodding and smiling at him, flashing those pearly whites.

“Great. 6pm. I’ll pick you up,”

“See you soon, James.” He watched as you walked away, a teasing smile on your face before you disappeared into the door. Gosh how he loved the way his name sounded on your lips, and he’d give anything to hear it again, and again.

Saturday came too soon, Bucky was not prepared at all. Well, he had done the reservations for the restaurant he’d planned to bring you to tonight, ironed out the creases and wiped off the non-existent dust on the dress shirt he would be wearing, so why was he nervous?

5:50 pm.

Call him old-fashioned or whatever, he’d prefer early to late and would love to escort you to his car. He stood in front of your porch, palm sweating and if his metal arm could secrete sweats, he was pretty sure it would end up like its counterpart.

You opened the door as soon as he rapped his knuckles on the wooden door, seeming eagerly waiting for him as he was for you.

He took in your outfit, the moderately revealing dress he liked, the one he saw you undress from, through his window countless times.

If it was possible to fall into a deeper love, he would.

The date couldn’t possibly be better than he imagined, it was perfect. Everything was great; the atmosphere of the restaurant, the quality of the food, and most importantly, you.

You were shy at first but opened up fairly quickly, telling him stories about you, and vice versa. You sympathized with him when he told you how he got the metal arm, your fingers grazing the delicate and intricate loops and lines on the metal surface.

His fingers were woven into yours halfway into the dinner, the cool metal fingers of his absently caressing your knuckles as you shared the story about your family, who disappeared mysteriously, then your ex-boyfriend, who went missing 5 months ago, like your family.

It was hard, talking about missing loved ones. Bucky could tell, by the way your hand unconsciously tightened, the lingering sadness in your eyes as you mentioned how happy you were before him. The way your tears were brimming in your eyes, threatening to glide down your face, it wrenched his heart, seeing how broken you were. He would try to pick up every broken piece of you in a heartbeat, mending them back together, fixing you until you were happy again if you would let him in.

He was kind of glad your ex-boyfriend was out of the picture, though it was a selfish thing to say. He desperately wanted to claim you, wanted to be your last and only boyfriend.

He’d been going on dates with you for a few months now. You were perfect, almost too perfect if he would say. You were practically his dream girl, so kind and generous. So sweet and loving. Pretty much everybody in this neighbourhood would agree with him and he sometimes wondered if he really deserved you. A beauty mingling with a beast. No one would ever want to see that, after all, even the beast turned into a handsome prince at the end of the fairytale.

Bucky wondered, if you found out what he did every night after you were asleep or what he took from your closet when you were away, would you still want him? If you found out the beast within him, would you still love him the same?

His thoughts were occupied and it wasn’t until the sharp pain in his fingers that he snapped out of his trance.

“Fuck!” You heard him cursing and went to him, gasping when you saw the streams of blood flowing from the deep cut from two of his fingers.

Hastily reaching out for the clean cloth from one of the drawers, you placed it over the wound, applying pressure on them.

The red quickly seeped through the pristine white cloth, two colours clashing as the red engulfed the white.

Bucky noticed you wincing at the red, gulping at the sight, head slightly turned away. It was obvious you were uncomfortable at the sight of blood, so he took the cloth himself and nudged you to wash the faint hint of blood on your palms.

“Sorry, now you might have to do this alone,” Bucky gestured at the ingredients on the counter, “and sorry for the cloth, blood stains are quite hard to get rid off.”

“Don’t you worry, a little hydrogen peroxide and the cloth will be as good as new,” Bucky let you tend to his wounds and pushed him towards the living room where he would sit at the couch for the next hour while you were busy at the kitchen preparing dinner.

While he was in the living room, he took in the interior of your house. He never got to take a close look, as he always had to sneak in when it was dark. The beige colour walls, cream coloured furnitures, books arranged perfectly on the floating shelves. The pictures and art hung on the clean walls, not one of them is crooked. The square coffee table with only the remote and a display plant on it, and when he shifted himself to sit at the center of the couch, did he realize the coffee table was lined up perfectly in the middle of the TV and the couch.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised, he didn’t depict you as a meticulous person. No wait, whenever he went out with you, you’d arrange the plates to sit between the utensils perfectly. When you get boba, the straws must precisely be in the center of the cup, and if you missed it, your eyebrows would furrow in annoyance subconsciously.

His eyes wandered over to your figure in the kitchen and was not surprised to find you wiping and hanging the cutting board on the ceramic wall, adjusting it with your fingers so it wouldn’t be crooked while waiting for the stew to simmer.

You caught him looking at you and threw a smile at him in which he reciprocated, then continued to let his eyes wander through your living room. This could easily be an IKEA showroom, he thought.

Another week went by, Bucky found himself more and more in love with you, if that was possible in the first place as if he didn’t already dedicate all the space in his heart for you.

You were both in the kitchen again. This time however, he was busy mixing the sugar, flour, and cocoa powder mixture, with you snuggling behind him, arms circling his waist as you watched him do the magic.

He felt sorry for not helping last time so he was making up to you by baking some brownies.

As you both were cleaning up, brownies baking in the oven, Bucky turned to you.

“Hey, I never asked, but what do you do for a living?” He questioned nonchalantly while wiping the huge plastic bowl.

The wet spatula fell from your grip, dropping into the sink of water, droplets of soapy liquid flecked on your shirt.

“O-oh, i’m an artist!” You let out a laugh to conceal your flustered state, “Aspiring artist to be exact.”

“An artist,” he hummed, as if chewing onto the meaning of the word, “could you show me your works?”

Your head whipped towards his direction, mouth parted in surprise. Nobody has ever appreciated your dream. Your family, your friends, your ex-boyfriends, all of them claimed that being an artist would lead you to being unsuccessful, and you deemed to prove them wrong.

“Yes, yes, of course,” you were overjoyed. Abandoning the half-washed utensils, you clasped your hand around his wrist and dragged him to follow you towards the second floor, into a room hidden behind another beige coloured door, where you kept all your works.

Rows of headless mannequins clothed in white dresses painted with red blossoms appeared before him as you pushed open the door.

He was utterly mesmerized. He trailed his gaze across the display, a smile painted his lips as he deduced that every piece of them was unique. No two dresses had the same pattern.

Some had plain red blossoms splattered on it, some had dark red waves littering on the bottom hem; some with brush strokes of red. There was also a different tone of red, bright and dark or somewhat in between.

“Wow, this is just … amazing!” He found himself at a loss for words, “are those blood?”

“Yes, they are.”

“I thought you don’t like blood?” Bucky teased.

“These are animal blood. I’m fine with it as long as it’s not coming out from a human,” you retorted.

He chuckled. Once again admiring the intricate patterns of your works, marvelling at how talented and perfect you were. His heart sank at the thought of the question he frequently found himself asking, how can someone so perfect like you end up with someone less than perfect like him.

You apparently noticed his changed demeanor as you inched yourself closer to pull him into an embrace, placing your chin on his chest, eyes searching for his sad blue ones.

“Are you okay?” He hugged you tighter, sighing.

“I’m fine. I just … I think you’re perfect and you’re everything I've ever wanted. But I'm not sure if I'm perfect enough for you.”

“Oh James, you’re more than enough. I assure you, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted too.”

Bucky felt like his heart was filled to the brim with adoration, butterflies erupted from his stomach. Your assurance was everything to him, keeping his wandering soul anchored and he was grateful for it, grateful for your existence. The more the reason to cage you by his side so you couldn’t ever leave him.

His lips were on yours the next second, his grip on your waist tightened as you deepened the kiss, tongue finding his; busy hands sliding from his stomach to his shoulder.

Both of you were drowning in this ecstasy, unwilling to part away from each other’s touch.

The loud ding of the oven startled the both of you. Momentarily parting from each other, you stared at him with a heated glance. His eyes were hooded, filled with lust, desire.

“Fuck the brownies,” you whispered, molding your soft lips on him once again, the hunger for each other far greater than the stupid brownies, “need you now.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice, large hands cupping your bottom as you hopped and hooked your legs behind him, arms instinctively went to his shoulders for support.

He brought the both of you to your room, the one he was all too familiar with, the one with the same cream coloured theme which could definitely pass as another IKEA showroom judging by how perfect the layout was.

The only odd thing that stood out in this far too perfect room was the trail of scratch marks extending from the door frame to the wall outside of the room.

The deep scratch marks were somehow etched deep in his brain, he couldn’t let it go. It felt as if there was a dot of blank ink on a piece of white paper, and even though there was more white than black, you’d only be fixated on the dot of black.

He would ask you about the haunting marks on the wall and your fingers that were tracing patterns on his skin would falter, you’d give him the warm smile he loved while brushing it off saying it was the huge Dobermann your aunt owned which did that.

Even when he was balls deep in you, the vivid image of the scratch marks were there in his head, though you were quick to draw back his attention with a grind on his hips, both of your bodies covered with sheen of perspiration. Strands of your hair sticking to your body, but you pay no care to them as you rocked your hips, chanting his name over and over again like a mantra, like a prayer.

His eyes were on your fucked out state, his grip on you like steel. The cool surface of his metal arm contrasted with your hot flushed body as you chase your high like a traveller chasing the oasis in a desert, desperate for a quench of thirst.

Even when he was chasing the same high, vision blinding with bliss, the marks were still there and this time they were accompanied by the white dresses painted with red, and red only.

Bucky was always a doubtful person. Doubting every single decision he’d ever made. Doubting himself, doubting others. But there was one thing he was certain of, there was something less than innocent lurking underneath your skin. Of course, he was still head over heels for you but he was pretty adamant to find out the sinister in you, hoping it would answer his questions, mainly the recurring image of a certain mark.

Bucky was a lot of things, dumbass , dork, clumsy(per sam), but he was not stupid. Hell, he was far from stupid. Those scratch marks, definitely not the Dobermann.

You were a perfectionist, you couldn’t possibly leave the mark there and acted like nothing happened in the first place. He’d imagine if it was the dog, you’d probably have someone fix the dent the same day, unwilling to allow even a speck of blemish in your flawless house.

Bucky was a lot of things, and being a dumbass was definitely one of them as he was showing up on your porch in the evening unannounced.

He’d considered sneaking in like he used to do but he knew, he saw that you were still in the house. He couldn’t and wouldn’t jeopardize your relationship with him knowing he’d get caught.

He knocked on your door, hearing footsteps paddling, rushing to him.

As you opened the door, your eyes widened at the sight of an awkward Bucky. Although you were quick to throw him an unalarming smile, he still caught the nervousness in you.

There was something off with you. The disheveled hair, thin layer of sweat adorning the crown of your head, unknown wet liquid staining your shirt.

He caught a whiff of the strong smell of chemicals wafting through the door, it smelled a lot like bleach.

“I’m sorry,” he scratched at the back of his neck, “is this not a good time?”

“It’s fine, come on in.”

The smell of bleach invaded his nose the moment he stepped into your house, flooding and overwhelming his senses causing him to wince.

“Were you deep cleaning?”

“Yeah, I accidentally spilled some of the animal blood this morning. Had to use hell lots of hydrogen peroxide to get rid of them. Sorry for the smell.”

“No no, it’s okay. Let me just open the windows and door, okay?” He was getting a little light-headed now, desperately needing some fresh air. “Doll, you need to ventilate every time you use bleach, it’s harmful for your health to inhale all these fumes.”

You blushed at the term of endearment, yet wanting to blame him for not calling you that earlier.

He went over to open the windows, sighing contentedly at the waves of fresh air hitting his face as the wind blew in.

He felt your arms snaking around him, head leaning against his broad back.

“I love you, James. Wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“I love you too.” He turned around and hugged you, his chin propped on your head, not knowing you had a solemn expression on your face.

He’d spent the evening with you, watching TV on the couch with you in his lap. It was so mundane yet he’d never got bored of this, wanting to do this with you for the rest of his life.

Outside the window, the orange and yellow sky faded into darkness.

“Let’s order take out, how about Thai food?”

“I’ll cook,” you kissed him on the lips and got up from his lap before he could reply anything.

“Ok, you need help?” He heard a faint ‘no, it’s fine’ coming out of the kitchen followed by the clanking of pots and utensils.

His neck stretched to peek at your figure in the kitchen, too busy chopping up ingredients to notice he was no longer at the living room.

He made his way down the basement, where the pungent smell of the bleach was still lingering.

The wood creaked as he stepped on the stairs, announcing his arrival to the darkness surrounding the basement. The soft glow of light illuminated the large space, a wall of tins stacking on each other revealed to him. A few easels of different sizes were propped on the wall with several grey aprons hanging beside them.

He walked closer to examine the insane amount of tins. A small label that said Pig blood was stickered on the body of the white tin.

His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Do people really sell animal blood in metal tins, wouldn’t they go bad?

There were loads of questions in Bucky’s head, questions with answers only you could provide.

He noticed a chest freezer sitting in the corner of the basement and his legs brought him to it before he came to realize. The whole basement was so quiet he could hear the soft ringing in his ears, the racing of his heartbeat amplified as his hand inched towards the lid.

There was nothing in the freezer, to his surprise.

The empty freezer stared back at him, as if mocking his fruitless attempt. He was relieved, or disappointed, he couldn’t tell the difference and there was no point in distinguishing them now since you had nothing to hide. He wasn’t even sure what he was expecting to find in the freezer.

“Babe?” You stood behind him with an apron on, a knife in your hand, a second after he closed the door to the basement.

He leaned against the door frame, hand went to his head, eyes squeezed shut as he pretended he was having a headache.

“Felt dizzy all of a sudden, I was just making my way to the bathroom.”

“Oh, okay. I was just about to tell you dinner's almost ready,” a tooth-rotting smile was plastered on your face.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he watched as you walked away, letting out the breath he’d been holding. His palm was clammy, heart beating rapidly.

“I love you,” You placed your hand on his arm, eyes meeting his.

“I know, doll. I love you too.”

This was seconds before dinner.

“James, I love you.” You whispered, watching him giving you a grin before he stuffed the meatball into his mouth.

“Wow, I'm so loved today. It’s the secon- no, third time you’ve said ‘I love you’ to me today.” He grinned, heart bursting with love. “You know I love you too.”

This was mid-dinner.

“I love you so much, James.”

Bucky was getting suspicious of you. Were you hiding something, perhaps cheating on him? For there were no reasons for you to keep telling him you loved him even though he knew how much you loved him and vice versa.

“I love you,” you kissed his knuckles, “this might be the last time I get to say I love you, James.”

His eyebrows furrowed at your statement, mouth parting to question what you meant. Before he could voice out something, the world faded into nothingness.

A thin film of blurriness clouded his eyes when he opened them, Bucky had this feeling like he was drowning in a swamp and his whole body was bound.

Blinking furiously, he regained his vision. You were sitting on a chair leaning forwards while looking at him endearingly, your elbows propped on your knees, palms supporting your chin.

“Hello, my love,” you were smiling oh so sweetly. The same smile that got him mesmerized and head over heels, except this time he didn’t feel the warm fuzzy feeling exploding in his chest, this time it was the goosebumps crawling on his arms and the chill creeping up his spine.

Now everything made sense, every single of his questions was answered.

You looked down at his body, the one that was once full of life, full of love. You watched as his glassy blue eyes etched with fear quickly reduced into this grey lifeless orbs, still pretty but lacking the element of a beautiful soul.

You weep for him, mourn for him. Mourning the short duration of love shared between the both of you. Mourning for yourself, for falling too hard. Mourning for him who kept you always in his heart.

To be honest, you were a little hesitant to end his life, he was better than the last one. He was perfect, warm, kind, loving, gentle, but not perfect enough. He simply did not reach your expectations, and you, could not bear imperfections, even the slightest. The answer to his downfall was pretty easy, he was too close to the ugly truth. And despite you knowing his love for you outweighs his doubt and fear in you, you simply couldn’t risk it.

Your love for perfection exceeds your love for him.

The melodious music of your ringtone echoed in the ample space of the basement, you brought up your phone to your ears as you answered the call.

“Mrs. Lockwood? Yes. Of course. I did. No no no, I’ll do it for you this time. He would definitely taste delicious I assure you.”

Time to get to work, you sighed as you stood there with a white dress splattered with blood. How artistic, you thought.

You always loved this part of the process, you’d wear the whitest piece of dress you own whenever you work with your projects.

You loved how the blood peppered your clothes, forming blossoms of dark red flowers on the fabric.

You kept every single piece of them, because no two are the same. Every one of them tells a story, of men and women who loved you and who you loved, of those who were once a body with a soul.

Wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks, you gave Bucky one last loving look and the blade of your butcher knife came in contact with his once pink but now pale skin as you hummed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the basement, forming echoes.

A few blocks away, a baby cried, body covered in mucus. The tiny infant cried, each time louder than the previous, wailing his lungs out, as if mourning. For one soul born, another reaped.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #neighbour bucky #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #the hotel indigo writing challenge #maeras writing challenge

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zackcollins · 3 years

Text

hands on you || bo bichette

masterlist

Author’s Note: Heya for the second time today! This is another anonymous request I received from someone. The request was about Bo comforting the reader while they were on their period. I hope I did the request justice for whoever sent the request in! Feel free to let me know if I didn’t and I’ll either try again or write a completely different request. Anyways! GIF credit to @whimsical-daydreams (love you Jenn!! hope you enjoy this too since I know you’ll inevitably read it lmfao)

Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything, but feel free to let me know if you disagree. I’m more than happy to add something for anyone that needs one.

Word Count: 939 (short boi)

Title: Hands On You by Florida Georgia Line

Additional: The language involving the reader is sorta vague so I think they can be read as gender-neutral. Because like. Anyone with a (functioning) uterus could theoretically have a period. And not everyone with a (functioning) uterus identifies as feminine. As always, I hope everyone enjoys this! Feedback is always welcomed because I love hearing what everyone thinks of my writing.

Tagging: @donttelltheelff @bodacious-bichette

Your entire body was sore as you laid curled in a ball on your bed. It was that time of the month and you hated it with a passion. It made your entire body ache, much like it was now. You would also get a headache occasionally as well as a swollen abdomen and a tender chest. Right now, though, you didn’t have a headache because you had just woken up from a nap; the nap had rid your body of the headache. Your abdomen wasn’t much swollen because today was only the first day of your cycle so it hadn’t had time to react fully. As for a tender chest, a nice massage couldn’t hurt.

“Are you okay, babe?” You uncurled yourself and looked in the direction the voice had come from. Your boyfriend, Bo, was standing in the doorway of the en suite. He had a towel around his waist, though he didn’t appear to be wet. “You look a little uncomfortable.”

Sighing, you gingerly sat up on the bed so that you could get a better angle to look at Bo. “Not... not really. I’m on my period.”

Bo leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest. He quickly reached down and tugged the towel up because it had slipped down a little when he had moved. You huffed an amused breath and rolled your eyes.

“Not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

“I don’t need to be naked right now. It’ll make you more uncomfortable because your hormones will get fucked up worse than they already are,” Bo deadpanned as he gave you a pointed look.

You went to raise your hands in surrender but they quickly clutched your stomach when it twisted with a violent cramp. You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times to try and counteract the pain. All that succeeded in doing was making the muscles in your abdomen tighten more, leading to another violent cramp.

You looked at Bo with a pained expression as you laid back on the bed and curled in the fetal position. You wanted the pain to stop. Wanted your period to be done and over with already because you didn’t want to deal with this right now. Hell, you didn’t really want to deal with this at all because of how painful it could be. However, this is what you got for being born with female reproductive organs. It was what it was and there really wasn’t much you could do about it except deal with it every month.

The bed dipped behind you a moment later. Turning your head, you saw that Bo was sitting behind your back on his knees. He looked down at you at motioned his finger along your side. Knowing what he meant, you nodded. Bo smiled as he laid himself on the bed and slotted himself against your back. You sighed when you felt the warmth of his body relax the aching muscles in you back. It felt so good to have some of that pressure be relieved.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled, squeezing back against your boyfriend. “You feel like a furnace. It’s helping with my body aches. Here.” you took Bo’s hands and placed them on your belly. Much like you had expected, his hands felt warm against your skin. The tightness of your muscles started to subside as Bo carefully ran his hands along your belly. You grunted at the feeling, dropping your head back against Bo’s chest. “That... holy fuck. Your hands feel amazing. I don’t feel as crampy or swollen anymore.”

Bo pressed a kiss to your temple as he moved his hands up to your chest. He started massaging it. You full on moaned because his hands felt magical working out the soreness there. The longer he went about relaxing your chest, the more relaxed you were starting to feel. Your eyes were starting to feel heavy and you even yawned once. Bo pressed another kiss to your temple as he shifted his hands away from your chest and started carding the fingers on one of them through your hair. He took the other hand and gently began stroking your hip. You hummed softly at the dual sensations, your eyes suddenly feeling heavier than they had been a moment ago.

“That feels amazing, babe,” you said, voice thick with tiredness. “I feel a lot less sore now. Keep going.”

You yawned again as you wiggled against Bo to get more comfortable. Bo hummed as he started massaging your scalp. He also started running the fingers on his other hand up and down your side gently. You felt your eyes inching closer and closer to sleep the longer you boyfriend went about what he was doing. You also felt completely relaxed and free from body aches and cramps. It was the best you had felt during any period in a long time. It made you feel grateful to have Bo.

“I’m grateful for you,” you mumbled, voice barely audible as you were nearly asleep. “You make me feel special because you always take care of me.”

“You are special,” Bo chuckled before he pressed a kiss behind your ear. “And of course I’m gonna take care of the person I love. You take care of me enough. It only seems fair.”

“I love you, Bo.”

With that, you felt the sleep overcome you but not before you heard Bo mumble one last thing into your scalp. One last thing that made your subconscious smile when you ultimately let it take over.

“I love you too, (Y/N). More than you’ll ever know.”

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discotechque · 3 years

Text

till my hand shook with the way I fear

pairing: abed nadir/nby! reader word count: 1.6k rating: T

me and abed have neurodivergent solidarity and for that, we would be besties. also the mc in this is specifically non-binary so whatever.

There's clear haze that settles over the bar, that's the first thing Abed realizes once he settles into the space. It's dim, like most bars are and he assumes that's the charm of places like these. Jeff and Britta are adults ( he is too but he's overlooked and therefore his opinion is mute ) so he follows their guidance. Watching from afar, observing their inebriated choices while downing another shot.

He doesn’t get the point of alcohol, much less bars, and it seems the whole point is to get pleasure after an initial sting. A sharp weight that lays in the back of one's throat before elation rips through you. Bourbon burns through him with too much consequence, gin coats his mouth with a bitter tang, and wine falls flat on his tongue.

Maybe it's his upbringing, he's never witnessed his father take a sip to this day, or the pressure that rushes to his frame when he's offered a drink. Abed understands the appeal of bars, it does not mean he shares the same sentiments to them. They're noisy little backend places where melancholic characters come to waste away their sorrows, typically finding pathetic people who drool over glass rims.

However, he is not pathetic ( even if his oldest friend is rounding his seventies and community college all seemed like a folly ) and he had never been overtly dripping with melancholy. So he stood by the small arcade game in the corner, unbothered and safe, until someone offered kindness.

And he takes miles of that even if all they've given was an inch because even if he isn't pathetic or melancholic, he is greedy. He likes eyes being on him because he has so many thought he wants to share with one mouth that can only do so much. Abed is not dumb, he knows what the man wants and how his friendly touches are slowly rising above his knee.

He knows what the man wants and isn't surprise at his outburst once learning that the feelings isn't reciprocated. There's streams of Mint Julep dripping from his jaw and lashes, softly mumbling about his love for Farscape before having it degraded. Abed knows he deserves it and was warned by Annie that people are sensitive ( but he is not held by the bounds of common decency or empathy no matter how hard he tries to keep his mouth shut. )

Then, he remembers the man's proposition ( the only reason someone would be interested in him ). He isn't familiar with being viewed as a sexual object and men weren't unwelcome in his eyes. Gay? Is he gay? Maybe something that exists within the unorthodox box that is sexual realization? The questions sound so foreign even within the echo chamber of his mind.

He's in a dingy bar celebrating his best friend's birthday, this is not a time for the sexual exploration of his subconscious ( although he saves the thought because he considers if not now then when ). The drink is seeping within his clothes, it's going to stick if he doesn't move. He needs to fucking move.

And he does, swiftly pulling himself away from the chair and heading towards the bathroom. Wherever that is, Shirley said it was in the far back and Annie said fair left. Yet, she meticulous as ever so what if she always assume her left is everyone's true left and Shirley is vague with her directions but it doesn't even seem to be enjoying her time here at all.

He's not enjoying it either if he's honest. His loose shit now sticks to his chest and he knows it would make sopping sounds if the man's glass was any larger. Jeff brought them here to celebrate because they're all adults and Troy deserves to have a birthday party in style but if all Jeff and Britta do it bicker, doesn't that make them children themselves? And if he shares his companionship with them, does that make him and all the others children by association?

He's going nowhere with this train of though, this he knows but it can't ever seem to stop. His brain becomes a leaky faucet that can never be screwed back just right so it drips and drips just like the alcohol does along his jaw and lashes. Abed wants to go home but he's with his friends and it's his best friend's party and it'd be so rude of him to leave so soon. At least, that's what Annie tells him.

( Parties were far and few between when he was younger and even then, he cannot replace family functions for beings that truly care for him. )

But then he remembers you, nursing an iced tea in the corner because you are not interested in bestowing wisdom onto Troy that you do not have or participating in anybody's shenanigans. Bars are where people come to hook up or fuck up, you proclaimed on the car ride here, there's no in between.

Then he hears it, bursting against his ears as a smile splits across your face, a discotheque pop song that might be pleasant if it wasn't so overwhelming. His hand involuntarily taps against his thigh in tune with the rhythm. It helps sort out the sensations, the noise is different than the bland flavoring of water, and he knows what's what but it all feels the same in his mind.

Abed's eyelids shut, another involuntary tick he can never seem to shake, and his hand has created it's own beat. Rapid and rushed with no real rhyme or reason except for the fact that it's something that will tug his mind away from everything. ( It's the same thing he does when he's at the edge of a rollercoaster, it makes him safe. ) If everyone else can sway to a rhythm, why can't he?

"Hey," an unexpected voice softly call out to him ( tenderness within this group almost borders on unnatural ). Abed slowly opens his eyes to see you, you call out to him. He feels his hands move away from his pants, tangled within your fingers instead as you gaze at him with earnest. "five things you can see?"

Your hands feel polished, no—plush. He's afraid that if his thumbs press too hard, he'll begin to meld into your being. That's a great idea for a movie, he thinks and he knows you've been his muse from time to time. Maybe it means something, he's not willing to deep any deeper.

His eyes scan the room for a brief second before he rattles off, "The wooden floors, the bartender, the door, the chair behind you, and Annie still trying to be a Texan."

Her accent still lingers within her mind, poor acting for someone so involved a role they've assigned for themselves. The though nearly amuses him but he's getting off track, he needs to focus on you. On the way your hands gently rub over his knuckles and needs to ignore this growing pit within his stomach on whatever that insinuates.

"Four things you can feel?"

"My feet against my shoes, my jeans against my legs, how hot my ears are, your hands."

You don't let go even after he's mentioned it, instead he receives a squeeze that sounds throughout his body. A continuous cycle the runs on until you ask him for something he can taste, he doesn't know what lingers within the crevices of his mouth. ( He'd want it to be you and licks his lips without a second thought. ) Yet, settles on the answer Mint Julep.

Something about thinking this way must be wrong, he shouldn't want to keep holding your fingers or gaze into your fervent irises. He shouldn't be attracted to someone like you and shouldn't be searching for so many reason on why he has to tear himself away from your presence. Still, shouldn't doesn't stop him from doing so.

Maybe his hands have melted into yours, it'd be a good excuse on why he can't bring himself to let go. The song changes again, how long has he been in this small little world with you?

"Hey, it's Mazzy Star, this fucks so hard." he's heard of this before, maybe you've shared it with him. It's less grating on his ears, smooth melodies being shifted on strings, and he watches you sway from the corner of his eye.

( He likes to be watched but something about you commands all his attention. )

Still shifting from foot to foot, you turn to him with a far more lax expression. Both shifting into familiarity as you ask, "You wanna sit down?"

"Not really," he shoots back suddenly but you're not perturbed at his fast response reflex. However, his heart sinks as the next words tumble from his lips. "but we can stand here and sway?"

You don't pull your hand away from his, instead, pressing into his fingers as you ponder a reply. Perhaps you think this isn't real as much as he presumes you'll humiliate him for even asking. But you don't and another smile splits down your features, large than the last one he saw from across the room.

"Of course, Abed Nadir has a genius idea. Let's do it."

You don't move him from this space you've cultivated with him. Instead, wrapping arms around his neck as he places them on your waist ( he never went to prom but this is better than any teenage fantasy ). Moving side to side, never shifting around in a circle but rather awkwardly figuring out a steady pace while his stares becoming fonder while the night grows.

Abed still doesn't get the point of bars but he can figure it out the next time he's here with you.

#abed can be a little bisexual ... as a treat #anyways in this episode abed never says he straight so i am legally allowed for him to have a crisis after a drink is thrown on him #yes i picked the episode where pierce is just stuck at the door and no one gives a fuck about him #i know in 2010 nonbinary probably wasnt a popular term but im using it here bc i dont care #i don't know how much i liked this but i think it was kinda cute #julianscribbles #ch: abed nadir #abed nadir #abed nadir x reader #community x reader #abed nadir imagine #community imagine #abed nadir imagines #community imagines #nonbinary #nonbinary reader #tv: community

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gallpall · 3 years

Text

canaan bubble redux as a womb for story/character arcs

I’m sure most of this has been posted about before but: ever since my initial read I’ve been obsessed with the gross bodily/gorey stuff in the Canaan redux and I wanted to organize some of my constant+chaotic thoughts!!

TM has said that a lot of the motifs/events in the bubbles are actually “Silent Hill stand-ins” for story elements and she hopes we pick up on stuff, so here’s my Attempt!

At the same time that Harrow’s mind is being made a tomb for Gideon Nav Wake’s subconscious is pulled in to act as a womb for certain plot elements right alongside it. The chronology/time period of HtN mimics a full nine-month gestation. There’s a lot of very literal imagery here (which is below the cut), but I also think we’re meant to see it as metaphorical: we’re able to glean some things about character arcs based on how everything in the bubble goes down.

I’m particularly interested right now in those ‘side’ characters in the bubble who aren’t actually dead, who barely appear in the bubble at all except to get summarily offed, all in very distinctive ways. Judith, Camilla, Palamedes, and Coronabeth.

(cw below cut for some pregnancy/insemination imagery, canonical body horror and gruesome bubble deaths rehashed)

First of all just some quotes showing some of the imagery that I’ve attributed to being Wake manifesting pregnancy trauma stuff (there’s possibly some of Harrow’s conception trauma here, too) seeping through, for the purposes of this line of speculation.

This isn’t nearly all of it, but some things that stood out to me as possibly comparing Canaan House 2.0 to a functioning reproductive system:

(ch. 21) a “collection of large, rusted pipette needles” -- turkey basters?

(ch. 35) “great, slithering, pulsing tubes” which contain “whitish-pearl bubbled globules”-- this perhaps recalls ovaries/fallopian tubes, with the ‘globules’ being follicles produced by superovulation for insemination, or corpus luteum that supply progesterone to maintain a pregnancy.

(ch. 45) “stretched webs of organ [...] like nets of sticky venous spiderweb” --uterine walls, maybe; it’s all over the windows, totally encasing them in Canaan’s rooms, and arguably even contracting like a uterus would: “every so often they would tremble uncertainly and erupt in floods of bloody, foamy water.”

in the next pgh we get some more of the tools Wake would have used to conceive/upkeep the pregnancy: “pipettes, broken glass-fronted containers filled with dark fluid,” skeletons sitting atop piles of “capsules or pills” perhaps hormones/supplements. (also holding Drearburh tools, the way Wake’s skelly would have been doomed to do)

(ch. 43) “from that hole emerged a clattering pile of plex scope slides, the type you would preserve a cell sample between“ -- Wake would’ve had to carry out the IVF process for implantation, this also seems like apparatus for that

(ch. 47) there’s the “libation” Abigail uses to summon Wake which is... well. It’s a “thin, milky, whitish liquid pooled at the base, sluggish in the cold,” and the summoning involves a bunch of ‘come’ commands, which I think might be Muir making a very elaborate jizz-adjacent “silly buggers with the emissions” joke.

Just a note, cause I’m hopeless about Pyrrwake: the Seconds’ quarters are almost completely preserved from the leaky body horror (though it’s still cold in there)--as if they represented a sanctuary in Wake’s subconscious. There are also letters in the nonagonal coffin room which spell out an anagram of “PYRRHA” (ch. 47).

So with all that in mind, I’d posit that the fake-ghost deaths are all metaphorical “rebirths” of various characters arcs for ATN. I haven’t delved into what this imagery might mean for Harrow or Gideon specifically because I know there’s a LOT and it’s probably above my theoretical paygrade (I would love for someone to tack on with that though!!) but I can talk about ‘side’ chars on a very big-picture level.

Judith’s simulacrum gets knocked off first (ch. 18); shot through the heart (both atria) while she and Marta’s ghost are trying to complete the winnowing trial. The Sleeper shoots her 7 more times after that, I guess partly just ‘cause she can, but Ortus notes that it seems like there was an element of "Anger” to it. It’s possible Wake wasn’t pleased to have someone messing around with Pyrrha’s lyctoral trial, infuriated that anyone would be attempting to replicate G1d/Pyr’s original downfall. She then ignores Marta entirely and climbs back in the coffin (now with the sword) once Judith’s out of the way.

[Marta’s] scarlet necktie looked redder too—by the time they’d gotten hold of Judith Deuteros the blood had dried hers nearly black.

Cohort red-and-whites being stained black with blood, like a certain high-collared BOE uniform... could be another little clue to Judith’s "heart” for the Emperor (and for Marta, and pretty much everything else she knew) being lost and her realigning--though not willingly, at least at first--with the other side.

Cam and Pal’s simulacrums are plainly executed (ch. 21), they have their “faces obliterated” each by a single gunshot, and it’s as if they just stood there and let it happen. In the bubble, “Harrow had never seen Sextus or Hect except from afar.” These simulacrums totally avoid having their features revealed to Harrow. I’m willing to bet their faces being obscured and then exploded is one of the clues we get to their eyes being swapped around the next time we see them in the epilogue and in ATN.

Regarding the twins: They are essentially non-extant in the bubble. Ianthe never appears because she’s still kicking and, in her own words, “doesn’t live alternate histories” (GtN ch. 15).

Coronabeth’s simulacrum scene (ch. 37) is SO vivid and cryptic. It fascinates me because it definitely is, in part, trying to tell us something poignant about the initiation of Corona’s “worse twin” arc in ATN.

[Corona] was turned away from Harrow, and her riot of hair—half-caught in a fillet, half-escaping—was soaking wet, a dark and crinkling amber in the rain. She was not fighting or arguing. She was still as a statue, and ready and waiting as a dog.

Sounds like the fake ghost preparing for that major shift in allegiance. Silas is the one to ‘dismiss’ her, with his “may the blood of your blood suffer,” which perhaps is a really Templar-y way of saying ‘now go wreck ianthe’s SHIT.’ When Harrow accuses him of sending Corona to her death, Silas asks “Death?”--as if he sees that what’s really just happened, at least metaphorically, is (re)Birth.

[Harrow] thought she saw, absurdly, a sudden gush of watery blood, as though the fog itself had been knifed; but it was gone almost as soon as she had seen it.

Sounds a bit like amniotic fluid/water breaking? Coronabeth doesn’t ever seem to hit the ocean (bodies of water=necromancy and that’s not her deal), she instead just kinda poofs, and Silas says she would have ended up “on her feet.” Coronabeth is ditching her family ties and is out for blood, and I think her charisma, willpower, and sheer desire for revenge will move her a long way in the ranks of Eden--probably even to the point of echoing Commander Wake’s ambitions and actions. I could delve into that damn portrait mirroring Ianthe’s obsession w/ Cyrus’ paintings on the Mithraeum... but that is a whole other post!

So all of these are fairly baseline observations and I think there’s a LOT more to be expounded on, if y’all wanna reply/reblog/DM with additions I would freaking love that, every time I open a page of this book I find something I missed before and it’s such a delight. Thanks for reading if you got this far!!

#the locked tomb trilogy #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #htn spoilers #shoutout to kallistoi and rusty-k for bouncing ideas around w me

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youwontlikethisblog · 3 years

Text

She's Ugly!

In a previous post I briefly touch on the subject of Armando and his belief of love. Here I will be going into more detail on my personal experiences as a writer who has written complex OC's with a very similar nature to that of Armando. I will be talking about some pretty heavy topics here so this is your warning if they make you uncomfortable or trigger you.

As a writer you spend most of your time doing research. You don't really spend it writing as more than 75% of the time is dedicated to researching the entirety of your story and it's characters. That means you research on mental health, social behaviors, addictions, learned behavior, coping mechanisms, ect... to create an authentic and realistic character.

When I was doing research for my OC, based on the past I wrote for them I had to look into the consequences that it carried into adulthood. I had to do a lot of research on coping mechanism and seggs addiction(I write really sad characters um but that's besides the point. Also try explaining your search history when you've got tabs and tabs about centers that deal with that addiction and so on).

[Below this I will talk about Seggsual Addiction and such. if it makes you uncomfortable skip to the next [RED]].

Doing that research I found out that many people who do have that addiction often use it as a form of escapism, control, or due to a lot more severe trauma. Sometimes it's just the feeling you get from that. Some have this addiction because of low self-esteem, feelings of worthlessness, and also because it's something they can control, or at the very least in their denial stage they believe that they can.

Seggs Addiction is when someone cannot function without it. When it becomes a problem in that person's life and ruins friendships, relationships, and their professional life. It can range from content watching to actual action of the addiction. This is a serious problem as it often leaves the people feeling helpless, dirty, lowers the quality of life and they feel a lot of shame due to it and it's something that they need professional help to be able to control and overcome, just like drug addiction.

[Now I will be talking about Armando and why this relates to this breakdown. You may proceed.]

Do I believe Armando has that? Not necessarily. I am not a professional so I cannot diagnose someone with that. I just know a lot about the subject because I had to do research on the topic in the past.

Armando is a complex character. The reason I bring this up is because he does show traits of it. Do his affairs get in the way of his professional life? Somewhat. Does it ruin friendships? Yes. Does it ruin relationships? Yes, mainly his.

We know Armando has had an array of women in his life. He is desired by a lot of women(I seriously do however believe that Mario is a s. addict).

I've thought about this part of his character for a while. I really don't know what Fernando Gaitan researched or what inspired him to write Armando's character so this is really just my own personal speculation and is not a fact of the show.

From the start we are told that Armando is a man with refined taste and high standards for his women. The secretaries tells this to Betty, if I'm not mistaken Marcela mentioned it once, and Mario tells him all the time.

A poster here in the tag made a post about the situation of Mario and Aura Maria and they did a really good job at breaking down this side of Armando; that he doesn't have a refined taste or high standards for women but rather he doesn't like involving himself with women who are not in the same social statues and circles as him because of the abuse of power that it entitles.

When he told Mario he wanted to fire Claudia for being crazy Mario reminded him of what he told him when he wanted Armando to fire Aura Maria and because of that Armando decides not to personally fire Claudia, it wasn't until Marcela asked for her head that he asked Hugo to fire her.

Now let me step away from the story and explain why I have this speculation.

Armando's parents aren't very active in his life. They're only there when it comes to the company or his relationship with Marcela(I already talked about his parents in The Art of Subtly in YSBLF post) now imagine that as you're growing up. That your parents aren't actively in your life unless you're achieving or accomplishing something. We know Armando has a sister that doesn't talk to their parents and is only in contact with him. That their mother possibly ruined her marriage to a man because he was poor. This tells us that his parents aren't the best.

A child who grows up having to overcompensate and over achieve grows up with low self-esteem, feelings of worthlessness, and other problems. They grow up believing that the only way they are worthy of love is by being perfect and they become obsessed with achieving perfection.

Due to this upbringing Armando is a control freak, neurotic, egocentric, and obsessed with perfection. He gets stressed out when things don't go his way. He has grown up in the fashion world and beauty has been fed to him that it is tall, thin, and above all has to be perfect.

A child is a product of their environment.

This has molded Armando into the person he is today.

On top of that Armando basically has his entire life planned out by his parents as a child who grew up hearing about the desire for him to be with Marcela to honor his parents best friends, for the good of the company, ect.

To receive his parents love he must do what his parents tell him, no exceptions. He must be the best at everything so he always aims high. In his proposal to be president he did exactly that.

Ironically Armando too is a people pleaser and feels like he has little to no control over his destiny.

So flings with Models become a form to cope. Though for a long time he enjoys those flings and what it entitles as it makes him feel good about himself, he is able to decide who he has a fling with but then it no longer is that.

My OC's addiction is driven by the desire of feeling wanted and needed. It boost her self-esteem though when it's over with she feels empty and hollow inside and we get a scene of Armando expressing those exact feelings to Mario the night he meets Ms. Colombia.

As they are leaving the cocktail Mario is upset that he[Armando] was leaving because he was so close to closing in on Ms. Colombia being his next conquest and that he couldn't change her for Marcela, who was always going to be there. Armando goes to explain something to him. He tells him that though at first he does get excited over the women and he does want to sleep with them that as soon as it's over he feels nothing anymore, that he doesn't enjoy it anymore.

This is part of a cycle and we see that.

Armando, before Betty, has the idea that if he falls in love it will be with a physically perfect woman who knows where she's standing and the only person that is like that is Marcela. He's got three reasons to marry her: He wanted her vote, his parents, and because she's what is mentioned above.

When Betty is introduce into his life she isn't what he expects in his dream woman. He expects perfection in a physical sense. However Betty has everything he wants in his dream woman in substance and personality.

He knows he likes Betty's personality but because she isn't physically perfect, he believes he isn't interested in her or attracted to her but because he likes her personality so much he believes he's entitled to her which is what drives his jealousy, it is not love.

Armando isn't in love with Betty here or at least not yet.

Betty embodies everything he wants and desires in a woman. She is humble, kind, respectful, unconditional, faithful, smart, like really smart and he likes that about her a lot, submissive and selfless.

However because the package isn't what he thinks is perfect, he cancels out. He denies that he likes her and he denies that he cares about her because of it.

So when Mario suggest for Armando to make Betty fall in love, Armando is apprehensive and disgusted by it.

Let's be honest, Betty isn't ugly! She's adorable! I will fight anyone who disagrees with this. Betty is cute and has always been cute.

I have spoken about Armando's emotional confusion a lot in the past few days but I haven't spoken about the mechanics of the confusion he is dealing with.

Denial is a strong defense mechanism. Subconsciously he has feelings for Betty and is attracted to her because of her personality but consciously he isn't. The mystery of the mind is never ending.

sub·con·scious /səbˈkänSHəs/

adjective of or concerning the part of the mind of which one is not fully aware but which influences one's actions and feelings. "my subconscious fear"

Armando's behavior towards finding out that Betty is in love has been dominated by his subconscious. However when it comes to facing those feelings he enters denial, therefore he cannot fathom the idea of ever being involved with someone so "ugly".

con·scious /ˈkän(t)SHəs/

adjective aware of and responding to one's surroundings; awake.

Armando is aware that Betty isn't his ideal of the type of women he is physically attracted to. He is aware the she isn't the standard of beauty.

Due to this he is refusing to listen to Mario.

Now that we understand this we can continue with the episode breakdown.

After Betty leaves, Armando is upset because Nicolas is the General Manager of Terra Moda(it feeds his paranoia talked about in the Betty, My Betty Part 3 post) .

Once again Armando and Mario switch roles. Armando is now aware of his conscious desires and he's sticking by them. Mario however is aware of Armando's subconscious desires.

Mario tries to level with him. He tells him that they can tell Betty to fire him but Armando rejects that by telling him that he does a good job and that Betty says he's important for Terra Moda, therefore Eco Moda, again this shows that Armando doesn't distrust of them in a professional sense. So they both agree that they shouldn't tell Betty to fire him. Mario first suggested that they reverse the seizure against Eco Moda and Armando goes on to reject that and explain why they can't do that. So Mario tells Armando that they need to think of something because it is a business deal involving them three; Armando, Himself, and Betty.

They agree that asking Betty to fire or take away so much responsibility from Nic could give way to Betty becoming hostile and resentful. Mario tells him that it would also be unfair since she's always been so unconditional with the both, Armando agrees.

We get to divides here. Two sides of the nickel.

Mario's priority and main concern is keeping Eco Moda and Armando as president for what it gives him.

Armando's priority is Betty's love life(Why else would he be so worried about her love life? A normal boss wouldn't care about your love life. Armando knows that Betty is a good and trustworthy employee and he said so himself).

Mario as always watched Armando carefully. The third and best option would have been to simply talk to Betty and be professionals and leave things alone and not doing anything about Betty's love life.

Mario tells Armando "Well the best option is to make Betty fall in love with you."

Armando goes on to say that he would never do that because he doesn't have the desire to and doesn't want to because Betty is ugly(this is why I said what I did above). Mario stops using the fear of losing Eco Moda and goes for the emotional because he knows that it will affect Armando's subconscious that will dominate him like it had been all day long.

"You're the perfect candidate because if it weren't for Nicolas showing up, I could have sworn she was in love with you. No, seriously, look at the way she looks at you, she's always been unconditional with you(he knows this is one of the qualities that Armando likes about Betty as he always lists it). My friend, if there's anyone that is capable of fighting against Nicolas Mora, it's the president of Eco Moda(here he is appealing to Armando's ego)."

What does Mario get out of all of this? Reputation in tact which allows him to continue living his best single life, which he said himself is his most prized possession. So it is important to him that Armando does whatever it takes to keep Betty from doing anything to get a husband(post Betty, My Betty! Part 3).

Fast forward Armando is in Marcela's apartment after the new collection launch and they're fighting because Armando let Betty into the event.

He not only defends his decision of inviting her as his guest but Betty's job and her role in the new collection. Marcela scoffs and they continue to argue.

What captured my attention though is that Armando tells Marcela that she can't be in a competing so absurd with a woman like Betty and shouldn't be in a feminine competition with her.

Armando is now go to the otherside of the room so we get his back as Marcela starts to speak ("You're wrong Armando I don't view her as a woman")and as she says "I am offended that you would think I feel she's a feminine competition-" Armando now looks at her confused.

Either he is confused because he doesn't understand what Marcela is trying to say or once again his subconscious is dominating him here.

The takeaway is that in Armando's mind Betty is a woman, ugly, but a woman nonetheless. He is confused as to why Marcela doesn't view her as a woman but still behaves the way she does.

We again get a classic scene of Betty writing in her diary as we hear her dialogue and get scenes of Armando in Marcela's bed.

We see Armando thinking about what Mario told him earlier that night.

When Mario told him that he would've sworm that Betty was in love with him[Armando] in that scene we didn't really get a reaction from him. He had a poke face but here, as he is thinking about it all he has a different look.

We stop getting a visual flashback, only an auditory one after Mario told him "I could've sworn she was in love with you." and the frame we're getting is Armando's face while laying in bed. He seems hopeful. The exact same expression he had when Betty told him that she didn't have anything with Nicolas.

We hear Mario's voice when he told him "If there's anyone who can fight Nicolas for Betty's love, it's the president of Eco Moda." Armando shifts in bed and covers his face. We then fade to Betty asleep on her bed and get another fade to Armando, this allows us to know that they are about to have another shared dream.

Armando is the mvp of this dream ss the camera focuses on him right away.

He seems happy in this dream as he runs around with Betty in a field with bright green grass and trees. He continues turns to look at Betty or allows Betty to lead him. Then in the dream Betty disappears and Armando is left alone, searching around him with a scared expression on his face until Betty finally appears in front of him. She nears him with her lips slightly puckered and Armando smiles and as well moves in closer until Betty runs away from him again.

The dreams shows us this two more times where Betty runs from him until the final time when Armando finds her and they near for a kiss we then get a real world Armando in bed shaking his head mumbling no, we can assume they are kissing in the dream.

This foretells what is to come. In Betty's eyes this is a good dream but we also know that due to her past Betty is afraid to love again which we're told this by her constant running away from Armando in the dream.

Armando's fear is brought to light in this dream that is of him losing Betty as it reoccurs more than once and each time he goes out to find her. There is times when he does want to kiss her but Betty pulls away and runs and then on the final one he becomes conscious in his dream(yes that happens, it's called lucid dreaming and sometimes it randomly happens).

The fact we kept getting fades from both Armando and Betty sleeping lets us know this was a dream simontainsly happening at the same time and it isn't until after they actually kiss that Armando's conscious starts to wake him up.

Marcela then finishes waking him up in the real world and asks Armando what he was dreaming, he tells her a horrible nightmare.

Again, Armando is aware that he doesn't find Betty to be his ideal perfect woman or the beauty standard. You know, she's "ugly" so having something physical even in a dream is a nightmare to him. The thing to take note of is that he was enjoying the beginning of that dream and it demonstrates his subconscious feelings.

We already Betty loved that dream.

The next morning Marcela mentions that if he doesn't talk about the dream he must secretly want it to come true.

His coping mechanism towards this entire situation has been denial. It protects him from having to face his true feelings and fears. It protects him from something he isn't ready to deal with yet.

He starts choking on his juice and coughing as Marcela watches him.

Marcela telling him this pushes him to face those fears of his, the fear that he does like Betty and that he does care about her more than just his employee however again, he is in denial therefore unable to understand this.

[You know I will write a post about how Aura Maria and Freddy are a parallel of Betty and Armando.]

Neither Betty or Armando talk about their dream to anyone, or at least the real content of said dream, which based on what Marcela insinuated, Armando secretly wants that dream to come true.

This is a fact because later on when Armando has that nightmare of Betty making out with Nicolas inside the new car they got, he tells Marcela about the nightmare or at least some distorted version of it, because he doesn't want that nightmare to come true. This time though he doesn't talk about it.

Betty clarifies the situation between Nicola and her roll in Terra Moda and Armando thanks her for it.

When she goes into her office Armando tells Mario that he's right about making Betty fall in love.

This next scene I already broke down in another post. Armando suggest Mario for the job because he knows that Mario would never fall in love with Betty but at least it would secure the company. However since Mario would never fall in love with Betty that would mean that he wouldn't have competition since you know these two pigs share everything.

Not only that but it would mean that he gets to avoid and deny his feelings without the worry of Nicolas and Betty ending up together and Nicolas turning her against him.

Armando tells Mario that he gets that it's the more logical thing that he[Armando] is the one to make Betty fall in love but that it's not morally correct.

He gets angry as he tells him that he can't do that to her, a woman who has been very special to him, too special towards him. Again this shows that Armando takes notice and likes that Betty treats him the way she does and because of that he doesn't want to hurt her and he knows that she doesn't deserve that.

However Mario then pulls the "your parents will be so disappointed and angry at you if you lose the company. So do you have to decide whether you'll be a rat to your parents or Betty."

As they discuss the sinister plan they solely based the problem in the physicality. As Armando even said himself the only bad thing about the plan was that Betty was ugly. If Betty wasn't ugly Armando wouldn't be afraid to face his feelings therefore be upfront about them.

However because she is it clashes with all his other traits. His ego, vanity, obsession with perfection and the fact he was unable to be in control over who he ends up falling in love with or liking.

I don't know what worse, Armando knowing how selfish the plan is against Betty and still going along with the it for the sake of the company and his unwillingness to admit to his parents that he was wrong or Mario knowing exactly what's going and how to manipulate Armando to do this and not caring about his best friends feelings and the guilt he will carry on as long as Armando remains president for his own greed.

In the next post I will breakdown the scene in which Armando drunkenly confesses somewhat his very confused feelings.

'Til next time :)

Ps. Sorry for all this typos! I'm an insomniac so I usually write these sleep deprived lol.

#armando mendoza #don armando #armando ysblf #beatriz pinzón solano #beatriz pinzon solano #betty la fea #betty ysblf #yo soy betty la fea #mario calderon #marcela valencia #betty pinzón solano

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