#codependency bros

[haley-harrison]

the fact that Supernatural starts with Dean carrying Sam out of the burning house, and ends when they meet again in Heaven and Dean finally knows Sammy is safe and with him, forever, asdfgghjkl

[royaltea000]

he could not control the class 😔

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: death mention / strangulation mention / stabbing mention / blood mention / self-sacrifice / codependency mention in tags / ]

I think a lot about how common it is for Raph to be the one to have direct focus put on him when Leo gets into all his near death experiences.

Like, when Leo is thrown off a building, it’s Raph who’s right there jumping after him, not even thinking about the consequences to himself when he does. When Leo almost gets skewered by the Krang, Raph’s right there to take the blow and send Leo to safety without a second thought. When Leo’s being strangled to near death, it’s a Krangified Raph doing the job, doing exactly what Raph would never, ever want to do. When Leo is telling Casey Jr to close the portal, it’s Raph who tries desperately to convince Leo otherwise.

Likewise, Leo is consistently very single minded when Raph gets forcibly separated from them. Both when in the sewers and by the Krang, Leo is dead set on finding Raph first and foremost.

I also think it’s interesting that during each of Leo’s near death experiences, the lightheartedness of his words during them goes directly hand in hand with both how close Raph is to him physically and how much danger Raph is also in in that moment. From a literal “I told you so” as Leo’s falling away from Raph to a soft joke about how “hero moves” are Raph’s style - both of these are on the more morbidly carefree side and both of these notably take Leo farther away from Raph and, in turn, have Raph not in immediate danger.

On the other side of things is the apology from Leo, heedless of the danger he himself is in as he seriously and genuinely speaks to a Krangified Raph face to face. Then there’s Leo’s freezing and desperation as Raph takes a hit meant for him and sends just Leo to safety, leaving Raph himself behind. Both of these involve much closer proximity and Raph being directly harmed - these together make Leo much more vulnerable in his words and actions, something not even the threat of death can make him.

These two care about each other so much, and they’re way too much alike for their own good.

[gaypiratehell]

Back with my horrible angsty depressing AU where everyone on the crew but them dies and they each become the only thing the other has left

[m1d-45]

renewed

summary: many things have changed in aether's life since he met you...

word count: 2.7k

-> warnings: n/a

-> gn reader (you/yours) + aether as traveller!

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

aether isn’t quite human. at least not entirely, not anymore.

it could be argued that even prior to coming to teyvat, he and his sister weren’t entirely human. they were nearly always stronger than the native life wherever they traveled, never lingering long enough for an accurate portrait to be drawn. between their glittering wings and the razor sharp swords at their hips, it could be easily argued that from the perspective of the people they visited they could be called angels.

a few wrote legends about them. the gilded warriors with shimmering swords that blinded as they slashed, so in step with each other that it was as if they were one being. the saviors, the adventurers, the peaceful giants, twin faces atop four wings apiece. lumine always managed to sneak away a copy of these legends, and they privately laughed over the artwork at their camp that night.

“we don’t look that intimidating, do we?”

“i’m fairly certain-… hang on, is that a tail?”

“that’s supposed to my hair, i think.”

“no no, look. it connects lower, here.”

“…by the stars-”

they didn’t see themselves that way, though. they were simply twins, defined by the other in every sense. never apart for long, always stood side by side, trading swords before a dangerous fight as a promise to return them.

‘draw me with courage.’

‘wield me with valor.’

lumine and aether and aether and lumine. they never fussed about the order, so long as they were together. call them whatever you’d like, insults or praise or a simple, tired request to leave, as long as it was both of them. they were all they had left. the other half of their life. to try and pry apart the seam would only result in bleeding hearts, limbs tangling together to at least die by the other’s side. even ‘twin’ was too simple a word to fit the entirety of their lives into. ‘twin’ implied a degree of separation, an impossible gap between them where wind would blow and the world would dig into, pushing them away like waves in a boat’s wake. ‘twin’ was too shallow a word, to bitter, too small to encompass everything they felt.

such fervent devotion could never be considered ‘human,’ for no human would ever live long enough to know the fear that came with knowing everything that swelled would eventually fall. no human would clutch so desperately to the twin pillars in their life—would ever consider basing their world upon two things. they’d call it foolish, even, for what would you do if one collapsed?

aether never liked that question. he didn’t like it when he and lumine first heard it, he didn’t like it when he and lumine heard it a second time, he didn’t like it anytime he and lumine heard it after that. he didn’t like it now, her sword slipping from his hands as he reached, his fingers barely brushing hers.

the unknown god laughed, and he barely had time to feel rage before the world closed in on him and his memory faded away.

aether and lumine. lumine and aether. she was always insistent upon his safety, but just this once he wished she wasn’t. living in whatever stasis she was in within that cube would certainly hurt less than this, bile rising in his throat at his failure.

somewhere in his mind, he knew that it logically wasn’t his fault. he remembered the layer of warmth that had surrounded him mid-battle, saw the reflection of understanding in lumine’s eyes. it wasn’t technically his fault, he didn’t ask to be saved, ignoring that it was his own actions that led to his god’s blessing. perhaps if he wasn’t so strict about the time of his prayer he wouldn’t have to be alone on this beach, though there was no way to find out. the sand stretched on either side, and though it wasn’t infinite, he had not left the immediate area around where he’d first woken up. to move was to move on, to leave, to accept that his world had shattered into a thousand little fragments and to give up on picking them off the floor. he couldn’t leave. to leave was to surrender to this new fate. to leave was to forget about his sister, to forget about his self, to forget about the half of his life he never imagined he could lose.

family and faith. to lose his gods favor was a threat he could live with, as there would only be himself to blame. but his sister?

if he hadn’t fished up paimon, he’s not certain he would have eaten the fish that came up instead.

she was bright, bubbly, at least after coughing up an impossible amount of seawater. she thanked him profusely while wringing out her hair, insisting on helping him in return because “it’s only fair!” as if he wasn’t three times her weight (save her magic) and and ten times as strong.

and he let her. he’s not sure why, but he did. he watched her fumble to catch crabs, ending up covered in sand, and managed a weak smile. it was for her, he told himself, spearing three with a sword that wasn’t his, helping her arrange driftwood into a measly campfire. he hardly felt hungry despite being on the beach for what had to be a few months in local time, but she was so insistent that he have some.. it was for her benefit. he just had to get her somewhere safe, then… then…

“so, where are you from?”

aether looked up from his barely-touched meal, meeting her eyes. they were so wide and earnest, too trusting for someone that just met him.

not that he had any ill intentions. no, lumine would always joke that the day he was willingly rude to another would be the day the sky turned red—something that had been the case on one of the planets they’d visited, much to her delight.

aether turned back to the fire, pushing aside the memory. “another planet.” his voice was hoarse and his throat scratched with salt from attempting to drink the seawater earlier, which was not as potable as he’d hoped. “i flew here with my sister.”

“you have a sister?” paimon looked around, though they both knew she wouldn’t find anything. “where is she?”

aether swallowed salt and bile, taking another bite of his crab just to stall. “how about we talk in the morning?”

she let the topic drop.

he didn’t sleep that night, lending her his scarf as a pillow and keeping watch. she didn’t wake when the moon erased the shadows in the sand, or when the sun first crested the sea, or when the sky fully lightened to a pale blue, birdsong filling the air. one of the remnants from the fire found its way into his hand, reaching out to gently shake her awake. her eyes were heavy and she covered her mouth as she yawned, aether looking away before his own could water.

he drew nothing in the sand as she asked her questions—who are you, where’d you come from, who are you missing, what happened to her, why didn’t you do anything?—sketching out mountains and seas he wiped away as soon as they took form. he spoke for much longer than he meant to, his words pulled out as if they were tied to some invisible string.

when was the last time he was alone for this long?

paimon listened intently, brows drawn and frowning deeply, watching as he carved twin—twin, separated by time and space—stars into the sand. “so… what you’re trying to say is that you fell here… from another world? but when you wanted to leave, to go on to the next world, your path was blocked by some unknown god?”

wow, he wanted to snark, i didn’t know there was an echo out here! but the chance never came. magic gripped him by the throat and his eyes went wide in panic, his mouth shaping words he didn’t choose to say by force. he didn’t want to say what someone else told him to. he didn’t know what was going on. he was being pulled at some ghost’s whims, walking stiffly across the sand. it did not skid from beneath his feet, nor pull his balance one way or another. it was solid as stone, leading him up the beach without warning, without knowledge of why or when it would stop.

when was the last time he was this helpless?

(lumine.)

he stumbled across the shore on uncoordinated limbs, fighting fruitlessly. ahead, slime bubbled up from where the sand met the sea, but the ghost did not stop. mist coagulated into a pale blue blob with hazy spots for eyes, and only then was he allowed to stop. paimon yelped and ducked behind him, a familiar weight sinking into his hand. the slime had barely the chance to turn and see him, jerking up as if surprised, when his arm slashed forward.

a sword. not his sword, not lumine’s sword, but a sword, pulled from nowhere, the dull blade hacking at the blob of its own will until the sludge dispersed and sunk back into the sand. a soft mist lingered above the sand, but he was pulled forward without care or remorse. he didn’t even know if it would have hurt him.

weight hit him between the shoulders, cold spreading over his skin and absorbing into his skin. energy buzzed beside his ear, his earring humming with neither outlet nor conduit. were he anyone else, he would have been afraid, but he recognized the buzz. all at once, he understood. all at once, the weak puppetry was vindicated, his muscles relaxing and letting it happen. your energy sank into him, and he let himself stop worrying.

if you were here, he’d be okay. if you were here, you could fix this.

if you were here, he could find his sister, and everything would be okay again.

aether was not human. not entirely, not anymore, and he knew the people of mondstat could tell. you had stayed to guide his body for a week, alternating between helping the knights with dvalin and exploring the plains of mondstat. he was weak and your grip was frail, his attacks uncoordinated and clumsy, but you were there. you understood. the cavalry captain gave him a long stare as they exited his domain, a mix of curiosity and disbelief swirling in his one eye.

when you finally left, you did so in the middle of mondstat square. a physical weight lifted from his shoulders, the anemo he’d absorbed turning from calm and controlled to pushing at the edges of his form, trying to make him give. the anemo archon approached, soothing the wind with a wave of his hand, pulling him along for a drink and a chat. his knees did not want to bend without your command, his mind fraying a bit from continued exposure.

“how interesting, that you’re still standing after a week without rest,” the bartender remarked, the glass in his hands obviously an excuse to keep them above the bar. “what’s your name, outlander?”

he did not think of his own name. no, when he went to answer, he thought of the name you had given him, the one you whispered as you sheltered him from the unknown god’s wrath. it was not his, but it was yours, and wasn’t that what he was asking for?

it took too long for him to answer. red eyes narrowed but eventually chalked it up to exhaustion, giving him directions he couldn’t hear. the captain led him to a room in the back, but he didn’t sleep that night, sitting at the window and searching for the thin sliver of stars.

he didn’t need to eat anymore. he could, certainly, and it tasted fine enough, but he didn’t exactly need to. he’d thought it odd, at first, that barbatos was healed strictly by the wind, but he understood now. he spent his free time sitting under vanessa’s tree, half-asleep as he waited for your return.

you were his source of energy, of will. you knew answers to problems he’d have given up on, and if you didn’t then you tried and tried and tried again until you got it right. you were the power that purified dvalin’s tears, you swept the wind to fix the holy lyre, you cleared the seals around decarabian’s tower. he was a medium, and he was happy with that. your presence waxed and waned, the lapses without you seeming to pass by in a blink.

a few of the knights worried for him, but he knew your vessels understood. none held as much of your power as him, none were as reliant on you, but they understood. they excused his oddities with a kind smile, paimon always at his side to make sure he didn’t waste away the day simply sitting in one spot. prior to coming to teyvat, the concept of elemental sight was something he was only vaguely familiar with. a few planets had some talented witches that could feel the flow of energy through the ground and grass, who could watch the mist in the air and predict the weather. he’d never experienced it himself before. now, the world lit up as his eyes took on a teal sheen, your power mixing with the anemo within him to grant him insight. the world was so vibrant, even the most mundane sights capturing his attention. how could he not stare? if he had it his way he’d always view your creations like this.. but whenever paimon snapped him out of it he’d come out of it with a headache, not to mention his staring tended to be off-putting to those around.

a lot of his new behaviors were. when within your control, he moved stiffly, with repetitive motions forecast well in advance. you chose what he said, when and how he moved, you controlled the very flow of elements through his body. it was harder and harder to think for himself without you there and though paimon handled most of the conversation, there was only so much she could say.

“who are you looking for?” lumine. his sister. himself. the knowledge was there but his throat was closed, unwilling to move without your order.

“thank you for your help.” you’re welcome. don’t worry about it. it was nothing. all he could manage was a stiff nod, eyes flicking to the sky, counting the days until your return. he’d gotten a good grasp of your routine by now.

“who are you?” yours. a traveller. lumine’s. he could not blame those they ran across for their suspicion, even though he wanted to. could they not feel the remains of your presence lingering around him?

they had to go to the rite of decension soon. liyue was holding off, though, waiting for your arrival. they’d never dare to make you miss it, so aether felt no hurry to leave. he laid in the middle of windrise, staring up at the stars. he used to sit atop the knights’ headquarters, but it took too long for the lights of the city to turn out and he liked picking out the various constellations.

his was up there, somewhere. he didn’t have a vision like your other vessels, but he could feel it. it was written right beside your decision to save him and not lumine, alongside your actions in mondstat and everything you’d do in liyue. fate, you’d called it, well-acquainted and intertwined.

aether fell asleep on wet grass among cold wind. he did not get sick, nor was he attacked or otherwise hurt. why would he have been, anyway? your blood was in his veins; he had nothing at all to fear.

[saturnniidae]

How am I meant to think Hiccup doesn't have self destructive tendencies when he canoncially never fucking takes his prosthetic foot off to, at the very least, go to sleep

[flaphack]

it’s actually so crazy that anthony dropped the lore that LARK FUCKED SPARROW’S WIFE. that’s so crazy. can you imagine. your wife fucks your IDENTICAL TWIN BROTHER and you know but you don’t say anything bc it’d be too awkward and he lives w u and you’re so used to managing your family (specifically your dad and brother - basically acting as an intermediary between the two) and being the peacekeeper that you internally compromise and decide to never bring it up. a couple years go by and you’re ignoring it and then you get trapped in a crazy eldritch horror dimension with him and get so drunk and shocked by the horrors you are witnessing that you TELL HIM YOU KNOW. IN FRONT OF YOUR SON. AFTER TELLING YOUR SON YOU THINK HES A DISAPPOINTMENT. and allllll this happened to my buddy sparrow swallows oak garcia.

[hyohaehyuk]

via sreidthinker (1)(2) and dailyraleighr

One of the tweets says "last day of iwtv s1 filming" so i assume they are all from same day (or at least around the same period)

I found the source for the 5th photo on Jacob IG and the 6th from immortal_daily (at they dont wanna give their source). I dont know about the others

[f1-birb]

just two 🤏 boys

[mikeru6]

im the jalpha im the leader im the one to trust

[it’s currently 2 am, final exams are in 5 hours]

[hyrules-warrior]

I could see Mario being basically feral about protecting Luigi after the events of the movie.

Luigi is more skittish and nervous after everything that happened to him and Luigi’s distress puts Mario on a whole new level of over protective big brother. He just gets worked up from Luigi’s nervous energy and is hyper aware and on high alert. He is also restless, always on guard like a guard dog. Constantly looking for threats, getting between Luigi and everything, turning all attention and conversation to himself, quick to remove Luigi from any situation Luigi seems unsure about or Mario can’t properly form a defensive front from.

He can’t stop, can’t let his guard down for a second. He won’t let himself fail Luigi again

[haley-harrison]

is this anything?

[dykejugheadjones]

hoes hate me for pointing out the incesty undertones in this goddamn show!! (spn)

[qprpbj]

anyone wanna hear me yap about ponyboy going to college and getting put on academic suspension after his first year bc he’s so depressed he’s failing school. 🙂‍↕️

[lord-squiggletits]

What do you think is Tarn's favorite part of being ordered to do something? That he's worth something/seen as valuable or the idea of the reward at the end? Or something else entirely?

Probably closer to your first theory: my first instinct is that Tarn seems to derive a lot of his self-worth and purpose in life from an attachment to others/an ideology (see: his whole thing with Megatron), although I honestly doubt he was like that before Megatron fucked him up with brainwashing. Being ordered to do something = being needed, and being needed = having value and a reason for living.

It also seems to me that, even as Damus, Tarn has a bit of a rash/emotional/passionate streak: very much the type to fix an ideology/set of instructions upon himself, then charge forward with a sense of purpose. If we look at Damus getting irritated at Orion for "just sitting around and waiting for the Senate soldiers to show up," it seems this guy really wanted to ACT and DO, perhaps to the point of slight recklessness/thoughtlessness. As if he equated active "doing" with productivity and "having a plan" and taking initiative, but thought of waiting as a form of weakness/giving up/not being prepared. (Ties in rather neatly with his tendency for organization maybe... weird how he's simultaneously reckless with his individual actions but also needs a sense of Order And Hierarchy to feel fulfilled on a general life level.)

So I think Tarn also gets enjoyment from following orders bc eh... I'm genuinely not trying to make this a petplay thing 🤣but I'd say that maybe he gets a sense of comfort/security from being able to just charge forward and act, no need to worry about morality or questioning his own motives. Just outsource his thinking to someone else beloved, trusting, and all-wise (Megatron) so he can experience the pure bliss of fanaticism and utter self-righteousness/confidence in his own actions. He even admits to Deathsaurus that he let himself conflate Megatron with the Decepticon ideology when instead Decepticonism is based on a dream, an idea.

So on that note, it also seems to me that Tarn might like following orders specifically bc he feels a personal connection to Megatron? Megatron groomed him as a protege/his most dedicated and fanatical follower. Their conversation on Necroworld shows that Tarn quite obviously thinks the world of Megatron and wants to see him as that figure of legendary competence/willpower. I don't think Tarn just wants to have The Right Ideology so that he can Feel Good About Being A Good Person (TM); it seems like Tarn specifically wants* to have a personal connection, some sense of approval or specialness, a bond with some authority figure who not only assures that he can trust them, but that they also trust him utterly. I think it says a lot that Tarn was even able to fall in love (figuratively) with Megatron more than he was with Decepticon ideology itself. It points to the fact that what he's really missing is interpersonal connections. Er, as much as an incredibly toxic and manipulative parasocial relationship is an interpersonal connection, but I never said that it was a good connection.

*In light of recent panels of Damus I reviewed from a Tarn/Damus post I reblogged last night, Damus seemed to actually be quite comfortable challenging/questioning Orion to his face and wanting to know what their plan is and why. I think it says a lot that Damus' relationship with Orion was one between a leader and a soldier, yes, but it was also informal and non-hierarchical enough that Damus felt completely free to question Orion. When you contrast this with Tarn talking to Megatron ~4 million years later, he's suddenly switched to an attitude of absolutely worshipping Megatron and believing he has utterly absurd/impossible levels of ability, vision, confidence, willpower, etc. Seems to me like part of Megatron's brainwashing of Damus was specifically centered on wrapping his heart around his little finger for the purpose of cultivating that blind obedience. Given Megatron's thoughts at the end of his Spotlight issue (he refers to his soldiers basically as blind idiots who can be whipped into a furor with the right propaganda lines), this is a pretty common emotional manipulation tactic he used in general. It just seems like Megatron concentrated this manipulation by singling out Damus and making him feel special, that he saw himself in Damus, and that he truly cared about him and wanted him as a student. You know, an emotional connection.

Honestly, this is kinda dark tho, bc now I'm kind of sad and thinking that Tarn doesn't naturally have this level of codependence/slave-like devotion to a person and it was actually just something Megatron shaped him into as a leash of sorts... Damn, I can be horny about people sublimating their trauma/emotional issues through kink, but not in a guilt-free "haha he's a dog" way. 😔 JK I'll still call Tarn a dog (affectionate) bc it's just so true.

[sysig]

i want to go on a big and elaborate date with papyrus SPECIFICALLY bc of the way u draw him bc he’s so bbg cutie patootie

PapyrACE 💚💜 Happy Valentine's Day!