#his father or acknowledging his trauma and working on his anxiety like!! he takes all that with him!! richmond did that for him!! idk!!

[waddingham]

At this point the only ending that makes sense is the Mary Poppins ending. For me their last chance was when Henry visited, and we saw how that went ...

they definitely had the chance to go another way, but i've never been able to fully convince myself that ted, for all his faults, would ever indefinitely forsake being a daily part of his son's life to stay in richmond. like. traumatically lost his dad at 16 ted? trying to be a kind of father to anyone he meets ted? clearly has an awareness of the importance of that kind of regular support ted? while i think it terrifies him a little bit to be a father, i don't think anything is more important to him and i don't think the circumstances as they are currently in the show are enough to satisfy him.

but that's just my onion as someone who truly doesn't mind them landing on toting the idea that the connections we forge with others whether they're lifelong or three years or a matter of months can be hugely impactful and just because they're short or they've 'ended' (who says him leaving would fully cut any of these ties?) doesn't mean they were any less important. cause ted completely changed people's lives and i don't think it does a disservice to ted at all to paint him in a kind of mary poppins role because i don't think anyone has changed more than he has. richmond changed him right back and he gets to take all the growing and evolving he's done there with him, wherever he goes

[niallhorxns]

Niall Horan x Reader: Not Like Him

Prompt: Because of your past, you hate confrontation. One day, Niall comes home particularly grumpy.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: anxiety, past verbal abuse mention

A/N: hi all!!! continuing to try and post on here. please feel free to send any niall x reader prompts / ideas my way :)

You’re in the midst of putting a dish you just washed away when you hear the front door open, then suddenly slam shut. The pictures hanging on the wall rattle as you peer around the corner anxiously. The first thing you see is Niall bustling through the door. Normally, having Niall home would cause a surge of warmth and excitement to rush through you– but today, instantly, you recognize that something about his demeanor is off. 

He throws his flannel on the chair and with his back facing you, runs his hand through his hair. When he turns to you, there’s no warm smile or cheerful greeting. Instead, he takes a few steps then tosses his keys on the counter, letting them slide carelessly across the surface. He makes no effort to even acknowledge your existence. 

Instantly, a lump forms in your throat, making it harder and harder to breathe. You hate tension… Or any sort of confrontation, really. Your parent’s entire marriage was built off tension and confrontation– passive aggressive comments and slamming doors leading to screaming, which then led to shattered dishes or dented walls. 

Your father had a temper. And it didn't matter how well behaved or helpful or unseen you were. Something always managed to spark his anger. The nights he drank were worse, and as the years went on, the sober version of himself made less and less of an appearance. 

Although you didn't recognize it at the time, looking back, you knew that you spent the vast majority of your childhood living on edge– always waiting for the yelling or the screaming. You were afraid more often than not. And that wasn't something you could just unlearn when you were old enough to leave– no matter how far away you were.  

In fact, it took years of hard work to heal from the trauma you'd experienced. But for so long, it felt like no matter how much therapy you attended or self-help books you read, there was always a part of you that was just stuck. 

Until you met Niall. 

Niall was the missing piece. His presence alone was healing. He was calm and safe and consistent. He was patient and gentle and kind. And when you finally got up enough courage to tell him about your childhood, he listened carefully, his brows furrowed somberly. It was like your trauma caused him physical pain– that's how much he loved you– how much he felt with you. 

With Niall, you could safely work on communicating without screaming matches or slamming doors. It had taken time, but slowly, piece by piece, you started to rebuild, until you actually felt like you could trust someone again. 

And of course, even now, in the midst of whatever this unknown territory was, you trust him. But despite that, tension is radiating off from him. It’s almost palpable in the air– suffocating you. 

You have to say something– Niall will understand. 

“How was your day?” You ask nervously, already knowing the answer. 

Niall walks right past you to the fridge, pulling the door open and ignoring your question.  

You bite your lower lip, your anxiety settling like a rock in your stomach. This feeling felt too familiar… 

“Is everything okay?” you ask. He pulls out a beer, showing no sign that he even heard you. He cracks it open, the sound alone sending shivers down your spine as you’re instantly reminded of all the nights your father would drink five beers before even recognizing you were home. But Niall is not your dad, you remind yourself. Niall is gentle. Niall is kind. 

He takes a long swig before walking towards the stairs.

“Niall?” you say, worry evident in your tone. 

He doesn’t stop. 

Niall isn't like him. Niall cares about your feelings. Niall loves you.

You follow him a few steps, knowing that you can’t let him just go to bed this… angry? Upset? Whatever he is– 

“Niall, what’s going on–”

“Oh my God!” He bellows suddenly, waving his arms and spinning in his tracks to finally look at you. “Can you leave me alone for one goddamn second?!”

Before you can quiet down your brain or repeat all the ways Niall was different from your father, your body reacts as if they are one and the same. You flinch harshly from his sudden movements and loud tone, like your body remembered exactly how it felt to live in your house twenty years ago. And before you can help it, the glass cup in your hand falls to the floor, shattering around your feet. 

The noise makes you snap out of your trance. Looking down at the mess you made, your mouth goes dry. Your whole body has already begun shaking and you can feel the tears fighting their way to your eyes. 

“I’m sorry–” you whisper, choking back a sob. Then you brace for the screaming– the berating. Clumsy, stupid, idiot. 

Nervously, you kneel down, tucking your hair behind your ear while you try to pick up the broken glass. What the hell is wrong with you? It’s obvious Niall had a bad day. So why couldn’t you just leave him alone? The last thing he needs is you making and being a mess. 

“Sorry–“ you mutter, it’s so quiet though, you doubt he hears. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. You’re so anxious you don’t even grab a dustpan, you just start collecting pieces of shattered glass in your hand. Your vision quickly becomes blurry with tears as they streak down your cheeks. 

“Shit,” you vaguely hear, but you don’t stop trying to clean up. You’re frantic, grabbing whatever you can off the floor before he can get more upset about it. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Through your clouded vision, you can’t see what you’re collecting off the floor– all you know is that you have to keep cleaning it up.

“Baby, stop–”  

The voice is distant.

“I promise I’ll clean it up,” you say, hands shaking so violently, you wonder how no pieces have sliced open your skin yet. 

“Baby–” 

It’s just background noise. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” 

You vaguely see a figure kneel beside you and before you can wave him away, Niall reaches out– hand cupping yours before forcing open your fingers. As soon as the glass is out of your hand, you see him reach up to toss it on the counter before kneeling back down to be on your level. 

All it takes is one arm wrapping around your shoulders for you to break. Suddenly, you can’t hold back the sob that’s been sitting in your throat. The second it escapes from your lips, Niall pulls you into his chest tightly. 

“C’mere,” he exhales, chin resting on your head while he slides the both of you back against the cupboard. You let out a choked gasp and cling to him. 

His arm winds tightly around you, locking you in place. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes.  

“I have to clean it up–” you cry.  

“Shh,” he soothes. He rocks you on the floor like that, his arms wrapped around you securely.  Your breathing is choppy as you shake against him. Niall grabs your bicep with his hand, holding you steady while his thumb rubs up and down your bare skin gently, trying to calm you down. 

You’re not sure how long it takes for you to feel like you can think again. Time stands still as you settle into his embrace. Niall’s embrace– you remind yourself. Not your father’s. Because your father wouldn’t embrace you after yelling like that. And he certainly wouldn’t embrace you after you broke a dish. 

After a while, your breathing gradually returns to normal again. Moments later, you feel him shift. “Did you cut yourself?” he asks carefully. 

He supports the majority of your weight, all but lifting you off the floor before scanning the length of you. 

You shake your head. At least you didn’t think you did. 

Niall nods before reaching his hand out. “C’mon, let’s get away from the glass.”

You take it willingly, sighing as you feel the warmth from his palm spread through your hand. He guides you away from the pile of glass and towards the kitchen island. He helps you settle into one of the tall stools. 

“Hey,” you hear him whisper. But you’re still staring at the mess, so worried about cleaning it up. Until you feel firm, but careful hands cupping each side of your face– forcing your attention to shift towards him. “Hey,” he repeats. 

His calloused thumb trails along your cheek. Before you know what you’re doing, you’re leaning into his touch, craving his comfort. 

“Did you cut yourself?” he asks again, clearly not trusting your earlier response. 

To be fair– you’re not even sure that you trust your earlier response. By now, you feel like you’re actually back in your own body, and feel no pain. So you shake your head, this time more convincingly.  

As soon as you give the confirmation that you’re alright, Niall takes a step forward and wraps his arms around your shoulders, crashing his body against yours.  

“I’m so sorry,” he says, lips ghosting against the top of your head. “I didn’t mean to yell like that.”

You nod into his shirt, pinching the fabric between your fingers and breathing in the smell of him. Niall is not your dad, you repeat. Niall apologizes. Niall loves you. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, you were slightly more calm. “I’m sorry I was so annoying– I’m sorry I broke the glass.”

You feel Niall shake his head above you. “No–” he says firmly. “I don’t give a shit about the glass. I had a shitty day,” he sighs. “A really shitty day. But that’s not your fault.”

“I should have just given you space.”

He shakes his head again, pulling back from his embrace to look at you earnestly. “No– We’re supposed to talk about things. I promised you I’d always talk to you about things, and I broke that today.”

He brushes a few loose strands of hair from your face, before wiping some stray tears stuck under your eyes. “I know how much yelling activates you– I know it sets you off, and I just wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re allowed to get annoyed,” you remind him. “And angry. You’re allowed to yell.” 

“That’s not how you and I communicate,” he says. “That’s not ever how I want to communicate, and I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time”

Squeezing him tighter, you nod against his chest. 

Because Niall is not your father and you believe him.

[sapphic-agent]

I think one of my main annoyances in Hori writing is him trying to redeem every villain and hero that some of them just doesn’t deserve that redemption.

Like; it’s reminds me too much of Naruto. But the difference is Naruto isn’t being held by modern standards since it set in a fictional world with ninjas while bnha is set in 200+ years in the future in modern japan.

I absolutely despise Endeavor and how he abused his family as a whole; in modern society he would have been put in jail, and yet he still gets a redemption arc. It’s feels like it’s cheapen all of the todorokis trauma.

And shoto being bakugo friend is another thing, since bakugo is so much like endeavor… like, if I had a classmate that act so much like my abusive parent that I absolutely despise I wouldn’t be close to them at all.

It’s gave me bad feeling how Hori just brushes all of the trauma the characters have from the actions of other characters selfish acts.

When I started reading the manga in 2015 I thought the concept is really good and having a main character with anxiety and socialization problems (in the start) made me hooked, because I had those things too. But looking at it now 8 years later I just feel so much dissatisfaction and disappointments..

You have a great point about Naruto. I mean, I'm not a fan of Naruto because of reasons, but it's the same concept as to why I like Vegeta better than Bakugou despite Vegeta technically being a worse person. Because MHA and DBZ are two very different shows. One is about becoming stronger and being able to face any threat to the world no matter what, the other is trying to push a narrative about morality and being a "true hero." The Z Fighters do have their own moral compasses, but it varies between every character. So there's no overarching theme that's beating us over the head.

Someone described this problem with MHA perfectly; it's constantly preaching about morality while willfully being tone deaf about its own overlaying issues. And that wouldn't even be so bad if so many of these issues weren't set up in the beginning to be addressed later.

I talk a lot about Bakugou, but I think we should focus on Endeavor like you mentioned. Not only are they similar in nature (temperamental, overzealous, dangerously ambitious), they're also two characters who benefit the most from the system in MHA.

...And it's barely ever acknowledged.

I mean sure, Dabi calls Endeavor out and it leads to the public losing faith in heroes. But not only does the family he abused and/or neglected choose to help him (I can't get over Fuyumi and Natsu taking blame for Touya when they were LITERAL CHILDREN wtf, not to mention Rei), why he was allowed to do this is never addressed. People knew he wasn't the kind hero All Might was, and it was something his fans admired along with his strength. Because as long as you have a strong quirk, you're admired in the MHA world and allowed to get away with whatever you want. Yet this is overlooked so easily.

(I like Hawks (because of Zeno Robinson mainly), but him dismissing this is so weird?? Why on Earth would Horikoshi go out of his way to introduce a character with an abusive father and make him an Endeavor fan? With no moment of clarity either?? There's something really off about that)

Bakugou's apology (one day I'll make a post critiquing this scene) is a little better in this regard as he does acknowledge that he was enabled because of his quirk. But again, it's really just skimmed over and only referenced to give Bakugou an excuse.

And the people who do question society and its system are either villains who are use it as an excuse to cause destruction and hurt people (the LOV and Overhaul) or bloodthirsty murderers (Stain). I would have loved for Horikoshi to introduce a group of vigilantes or anti-heroes who work outside of the HPSC and call out how discriminatory their system is.

Someone's talked about this before, but the Todoroki and Bakugou "friendship" was so forced and unnecessary. Bakugou has, at every turn, been completely unsympathetic towards the fact that Todoroki was abused and yelled at his sister for talking about it in her own home (but sure, let's call Bakugou an abuse victim I guess). Todoroki should have at the very least remained indifferent towards Bakugou like he was in the beginning.

Izuku deserves so much better than how Horikoshi treats him. He's either used as a tool to make Bakugou better or he's shoved into the background of his own show. He was so relatable in the beginning of the series only for the plot to suck his character dry.

[dumpdaily]

My father called me lazy after meeting me two times

He said I was like my mother

And anyone who has spoken to me and knows me would know how offensive I would find that

The mother that starved me the mother that neglected me and he dares to say that I have anything in common with that woman

I let him know that I could hear him through the wall talking with his mother My oma

And he never addressed it

He acted like it had never happened ignored it refused to acknowledge what he said, what he agreed with

The man that when I said I needed things to be said to me directly and plainly in a way that could not be misunderstood and had agreed that he could do just that, but he never did he only ever let me know well after the fact. I do not appreciate it when people give me their word and they are not capable of what they proclaim they are capable of.

I emailed him with my grievances letting him know that we would have a lot of trouble staying in communication with him if these things weren't addressed. He decided that it would be best to no longer be in contact.

He told me he understood some of my struggles because he has anxiety but not once did he listen or show any ounce of understanding towards what I had said. I suspect some of his anxiety might be down to the fact that he is so self-involved that the minute that anyone has an opinion he has to disagree and say his "no but it's more like this" as if his opinion is somehow higher in regard and more correct and more right but it is all subjective and he fails to acknowledge it. I'm sensitive to wording due to all of the fucked up shit my mother put me through. Perhaps he's afraid of confrontation because perhaps then he would have to face the fact that he is in fact flawed.

I poured so much effort into trying to understand. I did my best to listen. To try understand the family dynamics that were at play that I had never seen in my life first hand. And he too rejected my very reasonable and straightforward easy to understand request.

From a man that claimed to want to understand me and to want to know me but as soon as a glimpse of the reality that was me peeped through he rejected my very being down to the very core.

I don't think that he has ever been capable of understanding me. Understanding requires listening not just to hear the words but to truly comprehend them, active listening.

He will never know how many jobs I have done over my lifetime, more industries I've worked in than most ever will. He won't even know that currently I cannot walk. He will never know that the trauma from my childhood is coming back with a vengeance destroying my life bit by bit. He won't even know that I had to quit my job because my body failed me and that my body is failing me because the people that were meant to look after me and protect me failed me. He will never know that I have recently been put on anti-anxiety medication myself. He won't even know that the reason why he thought I was lazy was because I didn't know what to do when I visited him because my entire childhood the first 18 years of my life I was completely isolated from the world and threatened to an extreme degree whenever I tried to break that isolation including at one point being chased down the street with somebody wielding a chainsaw, there was also one time with an axe. The reason why I asked him to tell me directly if he wanted me to do anything was because of my mental health issues, which for somebody who claimed to want to understand and claimed to want to care I find that very hard to believe.

I truly think that the only reason why he wanted to get back into contact with me was to ease his own guilt in his mind. I do not know what he was hoping to find. Perhaps I will send this post to him. I do not hate him, in fact I think he did the right thing. I am glad that at least one of us was able to flee the situation that is my mother.

Perhaps I take things too personally. I take every action and a word as a genuine portrayal of the genuine individual and I am aware that most people are fake as shit. I have been told that I have high standards but I do not think that being honest and saying what you mean and standing up for people that you give a shit about is a high standard.

There is no winning with people. People seem to think that they can get away with putting on an act around me. Maybe they are just trying to fool themselves.

I know that I am viewing everything through bitter colored lenses. For yet again I have been abandoned. Discarded and unwanted. Just because I am used to it doesn't make it sting any less.

I think it hurts more when all of the people who were there for me, most of them are dead or might as well be. People who looked out for me, I never get to see them again. The fact that the people who wanted the most to protect me are the ones that have gotten really unlucky, hurts. I can't help but wish that I was somebody else's child, with at least one parent who cares.

The fact that I know my father is still alive and he could have been here and he could have supported me and he could have shown me that things could be different, but he didn't. The fact that I have to continuously parent myself and go through everything solely on my own strength is hard. I'm angry about it.

It is not often that I think about my father in any capacity but when I'm thinking about someone who looked out for me like a father would and the fact that he's dead, it fucks with me.

Sorry the post has been so messy. I'm just exhausted. Tired of having to face everything on my own and continuously getting shut down. Luckily I have some help now from my grandparents on my mother's side. Unfortunately that does make things complicated due to, well, my entire childhood experiences and how my mother is. I'm getting my haircut tomorrow, it's something small but it's something to look forward to. I am doing much better than I used to when I was homeless working so many different jobs. Things don't get better for me from here. My past will come back with a vengeance as it already has started to. I don't want to accept my limitations, and neither does anyone else, which makes it so much harder. The only time that people have accepted me was when I was almost dead from overworking myself.

I'm f****** miserable and I just want to know what it feels like to be loved by someone who doesn't want to f*** you because even when I was a child I was f****** sexualized and every single person other than like my grandparents just accepted it. Is that so wrong?

[fanthirtheen]

I love baby Via so much! I love You Will Be Okay! I love Stolas so much! I love space! I love Bryce Pinkham's voice!

It's so obvious Stella doesn't care about Octavia like Stolas does. She just screams and he's trying, even if poorly. This man is floundering, he is so bad at this, I want Blitzo to bond with Via over dealing with Stolas being obnoxious.

Blitzo breaks his phone all the time and makes dumb purchases, they would be doing fine financially if someone were able to control his terrible spending habits (couch couch Stolas cough)

I also need Octavia befriending M&M and realizing her Dad is the worst part of this whole side business, they're actually all chill and nice her Dad just doesn't know how to be chill.

I love RoboFizz's song. Also the fact this one specifically has beef with him (maybe others) but we say he used to work with this specific RoboFizz so now I'm imagining Blitzo feels like he's had interaction with Fizz (very negative) because of his extended time with this specific RoboFizz. But the RoboFizzs aren't the real deal, but because Blitzo has a lot of anxiety and trauma problems and thinks so lowly of himself (and was lied to told the real Fizz didn't want to see him) he takes this RoboFizz's reaction to him to heart thinking this is how the real Fizz would act.

The green fire and Mammon's face on the money implying they're in Greed rn. So Millie (from Wrath) has been here multiple times but Moxxie (from Greed) never has because his dad probably thought it a waste and childish

"Oh what a mouth" lol nice

"What kind of fool?" "The everything is now on fire kind" says nothing and walks away

At this point Octavia only sees that her home is WRONG and I'm positive once she realizes/acknowledges that her father really does still love her, she notices the screaming is heavily one-sided.

Rewatching Helluva Boss and I will be obnoxious about my thoughts ok?

Starting with the pilot, 30 seconds in: Millie suggests a car wash because she wants to see her husband in skimpy clothes covered in suds.

[missmentelle]

What makes a codependent relationship? Is it healthy for someone to rely on you as a constant source for support, talking all the time? Getting seperation anxiety and experiencing extreme stress when they are without you? Is it selfish to not necessarily reciprocate that stress?

Let's start by defining what a codependent relationship is.

In a codependent relationship, one person (the codependent) consistently enables the dysfunction of another person, often assuming a "caretaker" or "protector" role. The dysfunctional person usually struggles with a serious issue that may make it difficult for them to function on their own - often addiction, mental illness, or serious underachievement/irresponsibility - and the codependent partner will make extreme personal sacrifices to take care of this person and shield them from the consequences of their actions.

Codependent relationships aren't always romantic relationships - they can be found between friends, parents/children, coworkers, other family members, or any other type of relationship. Wherever they exist, are very unhealthy for both of the people involved in them. The codependent person focuses so heavily on the dependent person's needs that they entirely neglect their own, while the dysfunctional person is enabled to continue being dysfunctional and is often prevented from making any kind of progress toward recovery.

Common traits of codependent people include:

a fear of being alone. They often seek out relationships with people who will depend on them and encourage that dependency to ensure that the other person will not leave them.

extreme fixation on the feelings and needs of others. They often view their own needs as unimportant or secondary and prioritize the needs of others, even when this has not been asked of them.

a compulsive need to "fix" the problems of others. when they see a person who is struggling, they feel the overwhelming need to step in and start "fixing" the situation, even if doing so is not their responsibility.

low self-esteem. They often have chronic issues with self-esteem, and don't feel that they "deserve" to have their own needs prioritized. Their self-esteem is often tied to their ability to maintain their caretaking role at all costs, even when it is incredibly harmful to them.

controlling and perfectionist tendencies. Codependent people often struggle to cope when they don't have high amounts of control in their relationships, or when things aren't done "just so". They gravitate towards caretaking roles where they have high amounts of control, and struggle to let go.

external locus of control. They often feel powerless in their lives, and feel that they simply have to accept their circumstances and the way that others treat them.

high capacity for denial. They often cannot or will not see problems that are right in front of them, and refuse to acknowledge the seriousness of a situation - the house will be burning down around them and they'll refuse to even admit that it's getting a little warm.

a history of interpersonal trauma or abuse. Codependency is often a learned behaviour - many people who fall into these patterns experienced codependency from their parents, or witnessed their parents' codependent relationship at a young age. Many have also experienced extreme emotional abuse, from their parents or a past partner.

a strong need for approval. Codependents need to be liked. They need approval. Doing things for others and letting others walk on them is the best way they know how to gain that.

boundary issues. They often cannot and do not set personal boundaries - they take a "Giving Tree" approach to helping others, endlessly giving even when it seriously hurts them. At the same time, they may overstep boundaries to try to fix others' issues, even when it is not their responsibility to get involved.

a lack of personal identity. The codependent relationship often becomes the focus of their whole life. They invest so much time and energy into it that without it, they wouldn't know what to do with themselves.

a tendency to be drawn to close relationships with substance addicts, alcoholics, people with personality disorders, or other codependents. Codependent relationships are usually not a one-off thing - they tend to be a recurring pattern in a person's life. In particular, people with untreated BPD often seek out relationships with codependent people, as they tend to prefer relationships with people who don't set personal boundaries and are willing to provide the extreme amounts of reassurance and caretaking that they need. People with BPD also tend to be codependent themselves, further complicating things.

an appearance of being "addicted to chaos". Codependent people often appear to gravitate toward drama, dysfunction and chaos. Having relationships with people who have healthy boundaries, autonomy and stable personal lives often holds little interest for them - they prefer relationships where they feel needed and depended upon.

Codependent people often have a "martyr" or "victim" complex - they often feel that it is their lot in life to suffer for others, that self-sacrifice is a key part of their identity, or that suffering is simply a part of loving someone. The idea that they should set expectations in a relationship, leave a relationship where they aren't treated well or have an identity of their own outside a relationship is something they struggle with. They often hop from codependent relationship to codependent relationship, becoming steadily more beaten down and burnt out in the process - breaking free from codependent tendencies can be a long process, and often requires professional help.

There is a lot of variety in what codependent relationships look like. Some examples of codependency in action would include:

A mother allows her chronically unemployed and irresponsible 38-year-old son to live with her, and does everything for him. She never confronts her son about the fact that he doesn't contribute financially or help out around the house, even though it's placing a great financial and personal strain on her. When other family members ask why her adult son isn't taking steps to get his life together, the mother becomes highly defensive, and may make up lies about the progress he's made, or insist that he's still young and that this is normal for his age.

A woman assumes the role of "caregiver" for her unstable and very mentally ill partner. She bends over backwards to keep her partner happy, and doesn't seem to notice or mind that her partner never does the same thing in return. Her partner constantly burns bridges with their own family or friends with their explosive anger, and she rushes in to make excuses and try to fix the situation. When friends raise concerns about the relationship, she brushes them off, insisting that she's happy and everything is fine.

The parent of an autistic teenager infantilizes their autistic child, and insists that the child needs much more care than they actually do. Being an "autism parent" is a huge part of their identity. The child has never been allowed to attend an overnight camp, go for sleepovers or stay at home with a babysitter, as the parent is highly fearful and believes that other people will not look after their child properly. The parent strongly resists all of their child's attempts to gain more independence, insisting that it's too dangerous or that the child cannot handle it.

The US version of the television show Shameless is almost entirely centered around codependent relationships. The main characters are all in codependent relationships with their alcoholic and dysfunctional father, Frank. Although the main characters are often angry with their father, they constantly allow him back into their lives no matter how horribly he treats them - at times, they give him money, provide him with alcohol, let him move back into their house, visit him in the hospital and cover him with a blanket when he passes out on the floor. The boundaries they set with him never last long, and they always resume having a relationship with him, even after he does things that most people would find unforgivable.

So with that said: is it healthy for someone to rely on you as a constant source of support?

It sort of depends.

Relationships are supposed to be a reliable source of support for both of the people in them. That's sort of what they're for. I worry sometimes that the internet is making us too transactional in our relationships, and too quick to think that someone is taking advantage of us if they constantly turn to us for support. It's normal to find comfort in your relationships, and to turn to your loved ones whenever you need someone to talk to. I talk to my partner, my parents and my closest friends every day - that often means mentioning things that we’re stressed or anxious about, or venting about problems in our lives. Sometimes people are going through something and need extra support for a while - that’s just a normal part of close relationships. 

With that said, there are times when someone leans on you too hard. If helping someone is starting to take a serious toll on your own life, that’s a problem. Every relationship needs boundaries; if your boundaries are consistently pushed or broken in the name of supporting that person, it may be time for a serious talk. Staying up until 4am to talk someone through a crisis is fine if this is a rare occurrence. Staying up until 4am to talk someone through a crisis multiple times per week, every single week, is an issue - that’s you sacrificing your own need for sleep, and something needs to change. Are you willing to set boundaries and balance your own needs with your friends’ needs? Is the other person willing to respect boundaries, or do they lash out with anger, guilt-trips, accusations of not caring for them or threats to harm themselves? 

If you and a friend are both willing to communicate and work on establishing boundaries, I think it’s fine for one person to need a lot of support. If the relationship is damaging for you and one or both of you just isn’t able or willing to discuss boundaries, that’s a sign there could be some codependence going on. 

A person experiencing separation anxiety and extreme stress when you aren’t around could be an issue - but again, it depends on how it’s being handled. Is your friend able to cope with this anxiety on their own, or are they constantly putting this anxiety on you? Are they blowing up your phone and getting anxious if you’re 10 minutes late answering a text? Do they ever try to guilt-trip you or blame you for triggering their separation anxiety? Do they accuse you of not caring about them if you try to take time for yourself? Are they jealous of your other relationships? Is their extreme stress taking a toll on your life and preventing you from having other relationships or having personal boundaries and space? If your friend is willing to work on boundaries and find healthy coping mechanisms for their stress, this might be something you can overcome. If your friend is burning you out and one or both of you is unable to set boundaries, this might be a very unhealthy situation. 

Not feeling the same stress and anxiety, however, is definitely not selfish. It’s not healthy for someone to feel that level of extreme stress and separation anxiety - it’s not your friend’s fault that they experience that, but it’s still very unhealthy. The fact that someone feels an unhealthy attachment to you does not mean that you should feel an unhealthy attachment right back. No one benefits from that. In any healthy relationship, both people have a life and identity outside the relationship. This is, fundamentally, the issue at the core of many different unhealthy relationships - whether they are codependent, enmeshed, or abusive.

 Being so attached to someone that you can’t handle them needing friends, hobbies, space and independence isn’t a compliment or something to aspire to - it’s just unhealthy.

Hope this answers your question! MM

[ohscorbus]

Do you have any headcanon as to how scorpius and albus would deal with there trauma from the delphini events?

I think Albus actually acknowledges it and responds in a positive and healthy way, which is new for him. He also doesn’t do it alone. That’s the headcanon and the hope!

For years he’s isolated himself and he's just been hit with the ugly reality of the consequences of that. While Scorpius is undoubtedly the brightest star in his life, I think when he knelt behind his father in that church as his family and friend fought fiercely alongside him, he realised there was a whole galaxy of people surrounding him. His parents, his siblings, his cousins, his whole extended family. Even his classmates and teachers, who maybe aren’t all so bad. Not if he gave them a proper chance. 

So when he stood at Cedric’s grave with his dad, he listened. He processed before he reacted and when he did he was still honest, and it worked. I believe he’ll continue to do that. No matter how hard it is some days. Because he needs them as much as they need him. Which is something he’s having to re-learn after years of convincing himself that he could disappear without anyone caring. Learning the hard way how wrong that was wasn’t ideal, but he won’t make another mistake twice. 

As much as I think a lot of these changes come from within Albus, and need to in order to be successful, I also like to think an adult in his life offers him the opportunity for professional help. McGonagall brings someone in for Scorpius almost immediately. While Draco and Scorpius are communicating better and that does help, she knows Draco has his own demons and would hate to bring those back to the surface with everything else he’s dealing with. She still cares for her old students as much as she does her current ones. So she invites a nervous Draco to her office to talk. Draco only wants what’s best for his son, but he’s reluctant. He doesn’t trust an outsider. He knows that even highly trained medical professionals sometimes still hesitant at their surname. McGonagall understands but she has someone already in mind that she trusts, so she simply asks him to trust her. And so he does. The sessions work wonders on Scorpius, which encourage Albus to finally cave and take a few sessions himself. I also hope that Draco sees the good it does and actually seeks them out himself. Between his youth, the war, fatherhood, the loss of his wife… there’s a lot to unpack. Yet if he can improve himself and make sure what just happened never happens again, then it’ll all be worth it.

So in short, Albus will listen more and they’ll both talk more, especially to people other than each other, and they’ll also definitely hug more. Since that’s a thing they apparently do now. After that time on the staircase, their next hug was in the corridor outside the mind healer's office. Albus was waiting for Scorpius to finish so they could walk to dinner together. He leaves, right on time, but Albus barely gets a word out before Scorpius launches himself at him. Albus starts to ask what it was for but then realises he’s counting. Scorpius explains afterwards that hugging someone for twenty seconds has been scientifically proven by muggles to slower stress, anxiety, and heart rates. The cuddle hormone or something. Albus isn’t sure it worked, his heart rate is anything but lower and he’s thinking of another hormone entirely. Yet the hugs keep happening and soon Scorpius stops counting and just enjoys them. Albus too. And yeah okay, he’ll accept now that he does always feel better when Scorpius decides to cuddle up with him but he’s not entirely convinced that’s because it stops him from having to do his homework while he holds him back. But give him a few more months and he’ll admit that’s just a bonus. Because the headcanon that I’m most adamant on is that these two don’t get together until at least sixth year. Fifth year is all exams and recovery which is a lot. And important. Sixth year brings its own stresses of course, but it also gives them the time to properly explore this new version of themselves before they re-discover each other.

[that-thing-that-feeling]

I've seen a lot of sentiment that's like hopper's in the picture now so Jonathan can stop being a parent and just be a normal brother finally and this is his happy ending and I get where that's coming from but I also don't think it works like that? You can't really undo parentification. Maybe with some practical things like cooking meals, contributing financially etc, Hopper could take over, take some pressure off, but when you've raised someone for most of their life, even if you didn't ask to, even if it's unfair that you had to do that, you can't just suddenly flip that off and say ok someone else is taking over now. And Will can't just transfer what he has with Jonathan over to Hopper. Even if he develops a good step-parent relationship with Hop, if Jonathan moved away and focused on himself and interacted with Will the way a typical older brother in college did (calling maybe once a week), that would be pretty traumatic for both of them. As much as it might sound nice to just undo the parentification and 'set Jonathan free' you can't unparentify a relationship like that and I don't think Jonathan would want to either. It would also be a pretty big leap from 'I don't want you to forget that I'm here and I'm always going to be here' to then have him leave for another state. I dunno, just some thoughts.

Hmm you raise some great points—especially that it isn’t just some easy, fast transfer. Jonathan and Will would both have to build a relationship with Hopper that has trust (we saw in s1 Jonathan seemed to have some trust of Hopper). And Jonathan won’t just magically get rid of what being parentified has done to him—it made him grow up very early, have a lot of pressure put on him, and has caused anxiety. He’s also never dealt with Lonnie’s abuse.

However, I think that Hopper becoming a step- father to them would take important pressures off Jonathan. He’s always going to remain incredibly close to his family and be loyal and loving and present with them. I think he would feel comfortable going to a college out of state (altho the financial issues might still be a barrier). I don’t think his worry for them will ever really go away. And he’d majorly have to work on his trauma. Also his role as someone who helped raise Will from a young age needs to be acknowledged—it’s one of the reasons you really need Joyce and Jonathan to talk, and Jonathan and Hopper, Will and Joyce, Jonathan and Will. But Will could still feel that Jonathan is there for him even if he went away; Jonathan would make sure they remain close. Altho he could also always feel like he should be there more. I think he’d always try to be there more for Will and Joyce more than other people who haven’t experienced what they have would.

But I agree with you that the feeling doesn’t just magically go away, and it’s a process, and leaves lingering affects. What bothers me is that the show has a teen that they seem to have forgotten has been parentified, so you feel like they’ve just lost how complex that really is and what that does and they just won’t address it. And if they don’t, where does that really leave Jonathan? It just seems to leave him stuck with all his issues still there.

Btw I also don’t think it’s just like he’s either free from his family or he’s weighed down by them, as some have framed it. I really don’t like it when people frame it as he either has the “burden” of his family or the “freedom” of his relationship. That’s so reductive. When you’re a small family who has been through a lot, it’s just way more complicated. And partly it’s his family that has helped make him sensitive, loyal, loving, even as it’s also put things on him he shouldn’t have had to experience. But yeah it wouldn’t be an either/or with him and there’s a lot he needs to confront to have more balanced familial relationships, relationships, friendships, feelings about himself (like his self esteem seems to have really taken a hit this season).

[furiousgoldfish]

Personal post about trauma under the cut, extremely upsetting content, do not read if you had narcissistic parents and don't wanna get triggered, I am very sad and mad and it's hard to talk about this. TW child labor, child torture, brainwashing, death threats, narcissistic abuse.

*

I was a hardworking child, I was happy and excited to work, I wanted to be a part of everything that's being done. I noticed work warranted for people to get respect, food, praise, acceptance, and I wanted to work hard so I too would be a part of that. My family lived in a rural area, they kept animals, grew fields of crops, were always in some sort of construction work, so me always being eager to work was pretty much ideal for them, or you'd think that it was. You'd think that.

I was working eagerly and I realized, that unlike for adults, I don't get respect, praise, acceptance, or sometimes even food. It was for some reason denied to me only. And I was still happy to work because I chased that feeling of personal accomplishment, even if there was no rewards. And again, you'd think this is perfectly convenient and ideal to parents who wanted free labour and to give no recognition or praise in return. You'd think that.

But it wasn't enough for them. Father got this idea to take me out to work with him alone, away from home. I remember the place we went to, only as a place I need burned down to the ground before I could breathe again. It was a demolition-construction of a house, and I don't remember how many time I've been there. All I know is, after first few times, I no longer wanted to go. I begged not to go.

I am guessing my father could not bear the looks of me working happily, or even working silently. Me doing everything I was told was not fun enough for him– so he would give me false instructions. As an easy setup for punishment. I did exactly what I was told, and would get screamed at and beaten up. Then forced to keep working in tears, shaking, terrified, injured, while being further berated. And that was only the start.

Even as a child, I was diligent and responsible about doing work, and I know I was getting things done just fine, because, I was doing the sibling's share of chores too. If siblings were called to work, they would simply mess up on purpose so I would be told to repeat it after them, correctly. Sometimes siblings would have me do it and take the credit, which I didn't mind because working made me feel better about myself. It made me feel useful. My mind was already dissociated from my body to the point where I no longer felt exhaustion, pain, strain, or any physical effect work was having on me. I would get berated and shamed if I showed signs of being tired or strained. So my body disregarded it all.

And yeah, that wasn't enough either. I was still sometimes feeling okay. If I was allowed to work alone, and let my mind wonder, if nobody commented on it I knew it was okay.

So this is where they decided to take a step further and disallow me to feel okay at any point. I was humiliated while working to the point of tears. I'd be ridiculed in front of guests. I could no longer enjoy my own thoughts, but constant criticism, insults, accusations and humiliation was raining down on me at every step. And when I was done, with tremendous effort it took to endure this, I would be told 'It would have been better if you had done nothing.' So my insane effort to endure abuse to get things done, was rendered worthless in a second.

Father kept taking me away to work alone with him, and forced me to listen to his monologues, which I hated, because he was boring, wrong and self-obsessed, but I wasn't allowed to say that, or argue. My silent compliance was never enough. He had to hit me. He had to find something to berate me over. He kept inventing reasons. I would clean his entire garage and he'd move a steel closet I couldn't possibly move and berate me for not cleaning under it.

I had a log thrown into my head, causing a head injury, and I had to keep working. I fell and fractured my shoulder so badly I could barely walk; I was brought to a forest to drag logs around, too heavy for me to lift. I was sometimes orchestrated to get injured; father would start a trailer I was standing on the edge of, and forced me to fall by quickly moving forward just enough. I was still expected to work after that. He hit me with a blunt edge of an axe and berated me for standing there. I was told to 'not expect a lift to the hospital'. I was brought to work while starved, grieving, suicidal. I was lied to about where I was going and what would I be doing, and for how long. I was never allowed to stop working.

And the game of giving me wrong instructions and punishing me for doing it 'wrong' never stopped. I caught on and begged for correct instructions. I would ask to explain, how to do it, to show me, anything. 'HOW OLD are you not to know this? I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO TELL YOU! YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS BY NOW!' And by his rage, I could tell that if I don't do it any way I knew how, I'd be punished instantly. I had no choice but to try – and of course fail, and feel horribly ashamed for 'deserving to get beat up'. Eventually my brain started shortcircuiting at the simplest tasks, I would mess up because I was in terror. I couldn't think.

At this point, I no longer wished to work for people who would inflict violence on me. And that is when I was quckly informed that if I didn't work, I would be killed. Not in those words. It was 'You have to work if you want to live!' followed by 'We can kick you out and you will starve on the street. Nobody will take you in. There is no place for you. Nobody wants someone like you. You don't deserve to eat if you don't work.' My choices were taken away. If I still refused, the result would be to beat me and force me to work injured, shaking and crying.

All this, for what? I would have been HAPPY to work. I would have been chasing my little daydreams and singing the pokemon tune, and if I was ever praised, I'd be the happiest kid on the block. I was a kid who liked to work. I wanted minimal fairness, minimal acknowledgment. To be a part of the family. Only that.

It just wouldn't do for the narcssistic father. Watching a child be broken, terrified and shaking, crying, ashamed, guilty, working past exhaustion, in injuries, was just too tempting for him to pass up. Even free labor wasn't worth to him as much as the pleasure of child torture. He needed that like it was a drug. What kind of a sick high did he experience, breaking a defenseless kid? What kind of pleasure did it entail, getting someone rid of their natural happiness to work? Was it fun, tearing me into pieces, over and over again? Does he remember it as a delicious, satisfying pleasure? Does he daydream about it? He knew it was wrong; he forced me to stop crying and hide the tears before we went home. 'Don't say anything to your mother.' I was told before being stuffed back in his car.

And now... I can't work. I can't even move sometimes. It was torn away from me. My ability to work was ripped away from my child body when I had no way to defend it or to grab it back and protect what is mine. I can't work anymore. It's terrifying. It terrifies me to not work. Because I was made aware working is the only thing keeping me alive, and capitalism confirms this, so I remain to forever fight with myself about how even if everyone says otherwise, I still deserve to live. Heartbroken, abandoned, with my basic human abilities stripped from me. It doesn't make me deserving to die.

I am so angry and sad. If I had my natural ability to work back, I'd be fine. I would be able to live safely. I wouldn't spiral into feeling like an unworthy member of society. I learned to survive very insecurely like this, but I hate every second of it. To know that instead of this insane uncertainty, anxiety, guilt for being bedridden, guilt for existing and not moving, I could have just found a job, have normal income? I can't bear it. I can't bear knowing this was wrenched away from me, because it was pleasurable to do so, because tearing me into pieces was a fun hobby for people who didn't care if what they were doing to me killed me. And I couldn't have done anything to stop it. And I'm like this now. Unable to take any more torture, unable to endure any more of being triggered, wondering if I would die from lack of resources, or would my body fail permanently in attempts to process all the exhaustion and pain I was dissociated from for my entire childhood.

How was this worth it. How it could have been worth it to anyone, destroying someone's ability to work, only because it's pleasurable. I felt the plan was to work me until I no longer could do it, then kill me. It's what they did to animals. And I was told I was more worthless than an animal. I was called lazy and a monstrous name I can't even translate, that implied I was burdening everyone with my existence.

It was even a bigger punch to my face to realize, after I escaped, that he was profiting from everything I did. That it would have taken money – way more than was ever spent on my survival, to get all that labor done. He was profitting while telling me I was worthless and don't deserve to eat or sleep in his house. He is now renting the place I was broken to help build. I was torn apart and he is still benefiting from it. And I have nothing. Not even a functional body to work with anymore.

I know I'm not the only person who was constantly left alone with narcissists as a child and had this, or worse, done to them. They don't care which pieces of children are left over by the time they're done getting their high. We're only a thing to consume, not living beings, not people, not someone whose life matters. Our pain is food to them. My father readily became a predator who snached his own kid away for torture sessions, and felt proud and fulfilled to turn his own child into a creature who cannot work anymore to survive.

Don't leave children alone with narcissists. I am trying so hard to get better, but facing reality, is this a thing a person gets better from? It's not a bodily harm of once or twice, this was happening for the most majority of my lifetime. It makes sense I cannot move. It makes sense I'm terrified to be triggered into this. It makes sense I can barely bear the reality of it. A person tortured hundreds of times wont just get up and walk away. I can't either. I have to lie here and hope that one day it will get better.

If you read thru all this, and you relate to the parts of this story, know that I am so sorry for what you were put thru. It's devastating and horrenous. If this is how you grew up, it would have been better not to have a family. We all should have been protected from this.

[itsthenovelteafactor]

Fall of the House of Hargreeves

So I mentioned a while back in my Superhero Gothic meta that there were a number of parallels between the season one finale of The Umbrella Academy and the Edgar Allen Poe short story The Fall of the House of Usher and that I could probably write a whole meta on that if anyone was interested. Shout out and love to the anon who requested that I do that! 

It’s been a minute since I’ve done one of these long form metas, but I am very excited to get back to writing about two of my favorite things: gothic literature and chaotic superheroes. 

Part I: The Fall of the House of Usher

The Fall of the House of Usher (which I’ll call House of Usher for convenience for the rest of this meta) is a short story by Edgar Allen Poe first published in 1939. It is considered a classic gothic short story, and deals with themes of family, madness, inheritance, and isolation. 

Since it’s in the public domain, I’ll go ahead and link a pdf to the story here. If you aren’t interested in reading, though, or just want a refresher, the story follows an unnamed narrator going to visit his ill friend, a man named Roderick Usher in his isolated (and very spooky) family estate. Upon arrival, he discovers that Roderick’s sister, Madeline Usher, is also ill, and has a tendency to fall into dreamlike trances.

Over the course of the visit, Roderick confesses to the narrator that not only does he believe the house is alive, but that it is connected to the fate of the family which, at this point, only includes Roderick and Madeline. He later comes and tells the narrator that Madeline has died, and enlists his help in order to bury her in the family tomb beneath the house. They do so, but for the next couple of days Roderick is suspiciously...on edge. 

Then, one dark and stormy night, Roderick shows up in the narrator’s room incredibly worked up, and throws open the window, and starts low-key (read: high-key) having a breakdown. The narrator is unsure as to why until he hears ripping and tearing sounds coming from somewhere in the house. These ripping and tearing sounds are revealed to be Madeline whom Roderick and the narrator buried alive whose appearance scares Roderick to death, right before she collapses, also dead from the strain of tearing through the foundations of the house.

The narrator decides this would probably be a good time to leave and is very much right about that because as soon as he leaves, the house (which was already in pretty bad shape) splits in two and collapses into the lake surrounding it. The end.

Part II: Umbrella Academy as Gothic

So, there are probably a couple similarities between House of Usher and The Umbrella Academy season one that stand out right off the bat, but I’d like to start by taking a step back to talk about thematic parallels between the two works. If you’d like to read a very long winded explanation of why I consider The Umbrella Academy to be a modern gothic tale, I have a really long meta about it. 

If not, here’s a quick overview:

Gothic does not have a clearly defined set of requirements as a genre, but its purpose is to explore the contradictions and the failing edifices of convention in a way that is dramatic and often fantastic. 

Gothic fiction plays with reality, but usually in a way that is representative of the characters and story. 

It often situates itself during times of great change, as there is something haunting about the irreversible passage of time, particularly for those that struggle to acknowledge it and hide behind conventions that have grown increasingly irrelevant. 

Poe is considered one of the classic authors of gothic fiction (though the genre significantly predates him), and is decidedly one of the best well-known examples of it. 

The Umbrella Academy is a family drama about former child superheroes dealing with their trauma while trying to prevent an apocalypse that their every move seems to set further in motion. It explores the messy and complicated relationships between siblings who have been abused and pit against each other for years. And yeah, it’s fun with great music and talking gorillas and dance sequences, but the premise is kind of hard for me to read as anything other than gothic.

Part III: Parallels

Like House of Usher, the first season of Umbrella Academy takes place in a massive, largely empty mansion where siblings gather with disastrous consequences. Both works explore a family that is past their prime and disconnected from the present. They also both explore the psychological toll of isolation, the consequences of tyrannical family rules, and why it is a really bad idea to lock your unstable sister in a basement and just leave her there. 

Let’s start with some thematics parallels. Everyone in House of Usher is extremely isolated, and the absence of anything resembling the modern world amongst the house full of relics is part of the horror. All of the siblings in Umbrella Academy are defined by their isolation as well, physically (Luther, Five, and Ben), socially (Vanya, Diego, Klaus, and Allison), and emotionally (legit all of them). It is this isolation that drives the conflict of the story, feeding into every characters’ choices. 

In both House of Usher and Umbrella Academy, the main characters are trapped in this isolated state as a direct result of their familial legacy. In House of Usher, the titular house is a character itself, a manifestations of the obligations Madeline and Roderick hold as members of an aristocratic family that is so far divorced from wealth and status that it keeps them from ever fully moving on and rejoining the real world. In Umbrella Academy, the characters are similarly trapped by their familial legacy, this time in the form of the specter of their abusive father, and the roles he created for them. Like the Usher siblings, the Hargreeves have no way of maintaining the roles their family left out for them – they were never given the tools to function in the real world and it cripples them – but are trapped in them regardless. 

Part IV: The Woman* in White 

*As of the time I am writing this, nothing has been said regarding Vanya’s gender identity being written to match Elliot Page’s. I am using she/her pronouns for Vanya, as that is what has been used for the character thus far. 

Aside from thematic parallels, however, the most direct connection between the short story and series, and in fact the reason I was inspired to write this meta in the first place is the way both of the stories end: with a sister trapped beneath the house clawing her way out to face her brother(s and sister) and creating a disruption of the family legacy so great that the entire estate crumbles.

Madeline Usher is described at this point as wearing a white dress, strained with the injuries she sustained from physically breaking herself out of the basement tomb her brother buried her alive in. Vanya, of course, becomes at this moment the White Violin, and though she has not yet had the epic violin-music-so-powerful-it-changes-the-color-of-her-clothes scene, the principal still stands.

As characters, there are also a couple of noteworthy parallels between Vanya and Madeline. The narrator at one point describes “the illness of the lady Madeline had lone been beyond the help of her doctors. She seemed to care about nothing” (Poe, 27). The reader never knows what illness precisely is the cause of Madeline’s apparent madness, but we see the effects. It dulls her emotional responses to situations and leaves her withdrawn and powerless. Similarly, we learn over the course of the first season of The Umbrella Academy that the medication Reginald Hargreeves prescribed Vanya for her anxiety is actually a power suppressor for her abilities that has much the same effect – because they are strengthened by extreme emotion, the drugs numb Vanya’s emotional responses and deprive her of the ability to access her powers.

Additionally, the final scene of the story story shows Madeline escaping her tomb during a great storm and going to face her brother who put her there, the storm itself being a metaphor for her anguish that tears the house apart. Vanya’s connection to the destruction of the house is a bit more literal, but it is similarly a manifestation of her anguish and trauma. She sees flashbacks of her siblings being distant and rude to her in their childhoods and the anger she feels rips the foundation apart. 

It is not entirely clear in the short story why Roderick buries Madeline alive – there are a lot of theories: he genuinely believed she was dead, he wanted her out of the picture, he himself was succumbing to the madness of the house, etc – but the guilt he feels for doing so manifests as him hearing her scraping her way out for several days preceding her escape. The justification for Vanya’s imprisonment is more clear in text, but the series of flashbacks make it clear that it is not just the imprisonment that has driven her over the edge. It it guilt for her sister, anger at her abusive upbringing that is much more easily directed at her siblings than her father, the newfound emotions experienced by being off her medication for the first time since childhood, Leonard’s manipulations, etc. 

In both cases, amidst a spiral of emotions and experiences folding in on themselves, Vanya and Madeline experience a single, cold moment of clarity that drives them to escape, and it is that moment of clarity that breaks the shadow of the family legacy. They observe the situation as it stands and realize that it is completely unacceptable, and it is the realization that leads everything to crumble. Because gothic literature is focused on the complexities of maintaining that which is out of date, the realization that things must change can break the spell.

Part V: Conclusions 

As per usual, I have no great theories on why this is or what it means. One of the reasons I love gothic literature is that it is rife with meaning that can be more easily felt than deciphered. I welcome any and all interpretations, theories, (politely worded) disagreements, and comments. 

Thanks for taking the time to read; I have a lot of fun doing these. Enjoy spooky season, y’all. 💛

[marksofwoe]

           Haphephobia 

     What is Touch Aversion?

First, to establish the scene.

Early signs would be referred to as “tactile sensitivity“ (in children) since the mid 1990s. However, cultural consciousness of the matter varied, and being undeniably half demon, tucked away in seclusion in Italy of all places gave these varied issues little notice. Science and Religion always inside their own warring, and two children more interested in their father’s work, history and lineage resulted in little time ever truly given to the human half of themselves even in their short run of peaceful living.

Research on the topic has picked up in the passing, recent years. While not a disorder necessarily, it can be an partial trait of, but not limited to, autistic spectrum and trauma-related brain injuries (psychological; e.g., abuse). Touch aversion, or tactile sensitivity, or sensory processing sensitivity (SPS) is a genetic temperamental or personality trait involving "an increased sensitivity of the central nervous system and a deeper cognitive processing of physical, social and emotional stimuli”. 

In my muses case, after writing him for some months, it would seem he fits within this personality trait. However, due to the tragedy that befell the family, the consequential following of one bad decision to another resulting in confronting Mundus, only to ultimately be turned into a puppet plaything resulted in this personality trait worsening to the point of developing an outright phobia. From what we know both from VOV and the games, it seems to me that Vergil was morphed into a sort of “second skin”. A casing, a body of armor as well as a central for directly controlling every move, breath, and thought-planning. This decade long loss of self is precisely what turned his sensory overload and aversion to stagnating social phobia.

V does not dislike being touched. That is, evidently, if he initiates it. After writing him in wide situational things it appears that, while ranging from mild, moderate to borderline severe, he can indeed “tolerate” the overload of stimuli if he himself, nonetheless, initiated it (e.g., if he hugged someone, or touched them, and they took it further - either with intention to hug back or cuddle). He is uncomfortable, but tolerates it. Unfortunately he has not yet recognized (as of writing this) that it is an actual problem. Being a take on the muse progressing through and attempting redemption, he has often fallen into the pitfalls of blaming these sorts of things on his own past-willful shortcomings. “I do not like to be touched, because I did: x, y, z, e, and I feel undeserving” to “I do not deserve to touch them (other people) for I have not yet earned it”. He believes it is something he can will over himself, if he can only make himself strong enough to do so, rather than acknowledge the anxiety this line of thinking produces and its sources.

@devilxhunted​ made mention that V’s actions during D5 of always or mostly using his cane to touch Nero could be an indicator of his unwillingness to acknowledge the heinous things he has done to him as Vergil. I believe this coincides with his touch aversion - touching people, especially after the events of D5, means to know them as real, tangible, living people with their own histories. And to know it is overwhelming, something that, even in threads exploring a kinder mindset, a genuinely repentant mindset, is still psychologically overwhelming.

Some noted symptoms in no order:  

Being extremely sensitive to touch

Sensitivity to movement, out of fear of being touched as a result of that movement

A dislike of certain smells, sounds, textures etc, which are normally not intolerable

Either hyperactive, or can be the opposite and be hypoactive

Anger management problems

Irritability and annoyance

Can be quite withdrawn socially

Can use medication or other substances to help them relax in social situations

[capseycartwright]

but at the cost I payed, I'm pretty sure I got screwed

buck wasn't exactly sure how to process the fact he'd been lied to, his entire life - that his parents had forced maddie to keep such a fundamental part of his past, his life, from him. but - at least he wasn't alone.

or - eight conversations between buck and his true family as he comes to terms with the existence of the brother he never knew he had. set post 4x04

ao3 link

i. albert

Buck had forgotten that Albert would be home, when he managed to stumble through his own front door – breath catching in his chest as he tried to process the bombshell Maddie had just dropped on his life. Maybe – maybe it was rude of him, cruel to forget that he shared his apartment with the younger man, that Albert lived on his couch, but Buck had forgotten, and how he wasn’t sure of a kind way to tell Albert that if he had to have a conversation with another human being, there and then, that he would scream.

And he might not be able to stop screaming.

Albert was looking at him with genuine concern written all over his face, sliding the pan he was using to cook off the hob, so it wouldn’t burn. “Are you okay, Buck?” he asked, and Buck knew he could talk to Albert, and he would try to understand; burdened by his own family issues in ways that would make it easier to admit the insanity of the Buckley family aloud.

But Buck couldn’t.

“That’s kind of a loaded question, Albert,” Buck managed to choke the words out, anxiety clawing at his chest.

Albert inclined his head slightly. “Okay,” he conceded. “Are you well enough to be here, alone – or as alone as you can be with me, here,” he grinned slightly at his own words. “Or do you need me to call someone?”

“I don’t think I know,” Buck admitted, forcing himself to sit at the kitchen table, his blood thundering in his ears as he tried to process everything.

He had a brother. He has a brother – even if that brother wasn’t alive, anymore. Buck had a brother – he wasn’t the only Buckley boy, like he’d believed for so much of his life. For twenty-nine years, he’d thought Maddie was his only sibling, but she wasn’t, and Buck’s entire world felt like it had been spun on its axis and nothing made sense, anymore; but somehow everything made more sense than it ever had before, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with that.

Albert pushed a glass of water toward him, a kind look on his face.

“I don’t think I can talk about it, yet,” Buck admitted, the cool condensation dripping down the side of the glass – a housewarming gift from Hen and Karen, glasses nicer than he’d ever buy himself, if he was being honest – grounding in the way it reminded Buck that he wasn’t dreaming, the glass wet to touch.

“That’s okay,” Albert shrugged. “I can talk, instead, if you want.”

Buck could have cried, with relief. “Yeah, that would be great, Albert.”

Albert grinned. “Okay,” he nodded, moving his pan back onto the hob. “So – I had an online class, today, and one of my classmates, they were clearly not paying attention, but as it turns out, they had taken a series of photos of themselves, and were playing it as a video……..”

Buck forced himself to focus on Albert’s words, his roommate talking about the perfectly mundane happenings of his day, how his online classes went, how their neighbour down the hall still firmly believed he and Buck were a couple, and how its quite sweet, really, because she’s trying her hardest to make sure that they know she accepts them, and she’ll be dropping by a loaf of banana bread, in the morning.

It wasn’t until Albert set a bowl down in front of Buck, a simple pasta dish that made Buck’s stomach growl in acknowledgement of how hungry he was, that Buck spoke, looking at his roommate – his friend – with watery eyes.

“Thank you,” Buck managed to sputter out.

Albert shrugged. “You need to eat,” he said, pushing a fork toward Buck. “My grandmother – she always said that the problems of the world looked a little less daunting, when you looked at them with a full stomach.”

“I don’t just mean for the food,” Buck croaked, though he was grateful for the food – because he wasn’t sure if he had the mental energy to try and make himself dinner, to remember how to cook any of the ingredients that sat in his well-stocked kitchen. “I mean – for taking me out of my head, for a minute.”

Albert smiled, in that endearingly sincere way he always did, Chimney’s brother always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. “What are roommates for?”

ii. bobby

It’s not as though Buck particularly wanted to tell Bobby, about what was going on – but after the incident at the fire, after the way Buck had been acting, he knew he had to, he knew that he had to admit to his boss what was happening. He’d been insufferable to work with, Buck knew, and his boss was owed an explanation.

What Buck hadn’t expected was Bobby’s reaction. It wasn’t – it wasn’t the reaction of a Captain, a professional acknowledgement of a personal trauma that Buck wasn’t able to compartmentalise and leave at home, like he was supposed to, it was the reaction of a friend, Bobby pulling Buck in for a determined, bone-crushing hug.

“I’m so sorry, Buck,” Bobby’s voice was calm, against the sea of static that was buzzing in Buck’s head, something Buck could cling to as he stood, still as a statue, in Bobby’s embrace.

“You didn’t do anything,” Buck found himself saying, confused.

Bobby pulled back, hands on Buck’s shoulders. “I can be sorry, even if I didn’t have a role to play in this,” he said. “Buck, I’m sorry for you as your friend – what your parents hid from you, it was cruel. You didn’t deserve to be lied to like that.”

Buck swallowed his tears, focusing his gaze on one of the photos hanging on the back wall of Bobby’s office. “Their kid died,” he said, voice robotic as he voiced the sentence he’d practiced over, and over. “I can’t blame them.”

“Yes, you can,” Bobby’s voice was fierce. “Buck – I had to bury my own children. That is a pain I will never forget, and one I will live with for the rest of my life. I can’t even begin to describe to you what that grief, the grief of losing a child, feels like, and I hope you never, ever understand it,” he said. “But I have never put the burden of that grief on May, or Harry. Your parents had no right to force you, and Maddie, to bear their grief in the way they did. It was wrong. It is wrong.”

Buck hated how easily he was crying – how easily he’d always been reduced to tears, too soft, too emotional, not enough of a tough guy to please his father. “It was?” his voice was tiny as he spoke, unsure if he could take Bobby’s words at face value. Was Bobby saying that just to placate him? To make it so he could suck it up, and work?

“Yes, Buck,” Bobby’s voice was firm. “It was wrong – and no one in this team is going to begrudge you the time you need to process this. We’re your family, and we’re here for you. Okay? I’m here for you Buck, whatever you need.”

Buck hadn’t been hugged a lot, as a kid – not by his parents, at least. That was a pitifully sad thing to admit, but it was the truth – for all the ways Maddie had been kind, and affectionate, pressing kisses to Buck’s curls and hugging him close, his parents had been cold, and physically distant, never giving Buck more than a pat on the shoulder.

He knew why, now. They looked at him and all they saw was Daniel – all they ever saw was the son who would forever be twelve, frozen in time. They had watched him grow up, and maybe he was tolerable, when he was younger, when he was going through all the same phases that Daniel had – but as soon as Buck had turned thirteen, and lived longer than the brother he didn’t know existed, his parents had kept their distance more, and more, and then Maddie had left, and Buck had been left to crave physical affection, taking that intimacy wherever he could get it, regardless of the impact it had on him, regardless of how it would all leave him feeling even lonelier, when it was over.

But –

Bobby was a dad.

Not his dad –

But someone’s dad.

“Could I…” Buck cut himself off, embarrassed. “Could I have another hug, Bobby?”

Bobby’s eyes were sad, and full of sympathy – but not pity, Buck noted. “Yeah, kid,” Bobby said, pulling him in for a hug, Buck forced to stoop a little, to match Bobby’s height, comfortable in the embrace, this time. “You can have a hug.”

iii. hen

“Hey there, Buckaroo.”

Buck looked up to see Hen approaching him, doughnut in hand.

“You were missing out on the sugar delivery,” Hen explained, hanging him the plate. “So I snagged you your favourite flavour.”

Buck wanted to cry. “You didn’t have to do that, Hen.”

Hen shrugged, sliding down the wall so she was sitting on the concrete next to him, the bright sun of the Los Angeles afternoon beating down on them, the corner they were sitting in slightly secluded, distant from the noise of the firehouse that Buck normally thrived in – just, not today.

“I wanted to,” she said, taking a bite of her own doughnut – cinnamon sugar, Buck noted, her favourite. She’d always been the one to support Buck’s belief that simple was best, when it came to doughnuts, never making fun of Buck’s preference for plain old raspberry jelly flavour; unlike Chimney and the rest of the team, who favoured the hipster doughnut place around the corner from the station, and all the weird flavours they sold.

“Because you feel sorry for me?” Buck found himself asking.

“Because you’re my friend,” Hen corrected, nudging Buck’s knee with her own. “And I can see you’re hurting, Buck, so I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Buck knew he didn’t look the best, rocking up to their shift that morning – his eyes were red raw from crying, because he was in that stage of processing it all, now (Dr. Copeland had assured him that crying was a perfectly healthy trauma response, but Buck was tired of Albert’s quietly concerned looks, because apparently even crying alone in his shower didn’t guarantee privacy in the tiny space they co-existed in.)

He just hadn’t realised he looked that bad.

“I guess you know, then,” Buck murmured, poking at his doughnut. He’d given Bobby permission to tell the team, if he felt it was appropriate – he just hadn’t been able to face the prospect of telling them himself.

“No,” Hen’s voice was firm. “Whatever is going on with you, is your story to tell, Buck. Unless you want to tell me, I have no intention of finding out what is happening.”

Buck shot her a confused look.

“Chimney, he gave me the impression that whatever you’ve found out, is something that was kept from you by the people you love most in the world, and you didn’t have a choice in who found out, because Maddie told him first, and when – and when you got trapped, in that fire, Chimney panicked and told some of the team,” Hen said, explaining what Buck already knew – what Chimney had already desperately apologised for, terrified that Buck’s newfound knowledge of his dead brother had pushed him from resident daredevil to on the verge of suicidal.

Buck didn’t blame him, really.

“I didn’t hear the secret, at the fire,” Hen said. “And I asked Bobby not to tell me. I want you to be able to tell at least one person, on your own terms, if you want to tell me. And if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay too – I just want you to have the option. I’m happy to be the friend who doesn’t know, if that’s what you need.”

Hen’s sincerity was making Buck want to cry again, his friend looking at him earnestly as she spoke. He knew that if he asked her, Hen would do her best to never find out what Buck’s secret was – Hen was good with secrets – and Buck wasn’t sure how to voice his appreciation out loud in a way that felt appropriate for the magnitude of what Hen was offering him.

Peace.

The power to take control of his own situation.

Buck hadn’t felt in control from the moment he had picked up that photograph of Daniel, and Maddie had admitted who it was, but now, for a second, at least, he felt in control.

“I had a brother,” Buck admitted, hot, angry tears rolling down his cheeks. “I had a brother, and they never told me – they kept him from me. For my whole life, they kept him from me, Hen.”

“Oh, Buck,” Hen’s voice was thick with emotion as she spoke. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“I know – I know it wouldn’t have change the fact he died, when I was a baby,” Buck continued, managing to talk about it, even just a little, for the first time since he’d found out. “But I deserved to know, Hen.”

“Yes, you did,” Hen was fierce in her agreement. “They had no right to keep his existence from you, Buck.”

“It explains it, you know,” Buck glanced at Hen, the protectiveness that was written all over her face making his heart twist in his chest. “Why they never loved me, not really – I was never Daniel.”

“I’m not even going to pretend to understand your parents,” Hen said, wrapping her arms around Buck’s shoulders, pulling him close, running a hand through his curls, the same way Maddie used to, when he was younger. “But I’ll tell you something for nothing, Buck; I love you. I love you like a brother, and I know its not the same, but I love you. And loving you has been damn easy, from the moment you stepped into this fire station – because you have a heart of goddamn gold, Buck. And your parents inability to see that is not your fault.”

Buck let out a shuddering sigh, leaning into the comforting embrace Hen was offering him. “I’m not sure if I believe you, Hen.”

“That’s okay,” Hen reassured. “I’ll keep reminding you until you do.”

“You will?”

“I will,” Hen confirmed. “Because that’s what family does, Buck. Now – eat your doughnut before we get called out.”

iv. chimney

Buck hated the tentative way that his friend – and teammate, and future brother-in-law, probably – approached him, looking nervous. He hated it – and he hated how he didn’t have it in him to put a stop to it, just yet.

“Hey, Buck,” Chimney greeted.

Buck paused what he was doing, the chrome of the ladder truck already gleaming from the thorough polish he had given it. “Are you here as my sisters boyfriend, Chimney, or my friend?”

“As your friend,” Chimney answered without a second’s hesitation, which Buck had to admit he appreciated.

“Okay,” Buck put the polish down entirely, nodding. “Because I’m not ready to talk to Maddie about this yet.”

“She knows,” Chimney nodded, quiet for a second. “I wanted to talk to you as my friend, Buck, because – and I would walk through fire for your sister – you were my friend before I ever met Maddie, and I don’t want you to forget that. I care about you as more than just my girlfriends brother, Buck, and I’m – I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

Buck didn’t have a reason not to believe Chimney – really, he didn’t. “I’m still angry,” he admitted. “That you knew before I did. You had no right to know before I did, Chim.”

“I know,” Chimney agreed, rocking forward on his heels as he spoke. “I wish I didn’t know, Buck,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t found out before you. I – I said, from the moment I knew, that you deserved to know, but as much as it wasn’t my place to know before you, it wasn’t my place to tell you. It needed to come from Maddie, and your parents.”

Buck nodded. It was true – that it would have been worse to hear it from Chimney, and not Maddie, or his mom and dad. Of all the people to hear it from, Chimney would have been the worst one. It should have come from his parents, really – from the people who’d forced a child, their daughter, to keep their older brother’s existence a secret their entire lives. Maddie had been nine, when she’d been forced to pretend Daniel had never existed. She couldn’t have possibly understood the consequences of their parents refusal to acknowledge that Daniel had been a part of their lives, once.

“I know,” Buck said finally. “I know, Chim. I just – I can’t pretend like I’m feeling all that logical, about all of this. I’m trying – I’m just not there yet.”

Chimney’s expression was genuinely understanding. “You don’t need to be logical about this, Buck,” he shook his head. “You’re entitled to deal with this and grieve – and be angry as hell – in whatever way works best for you. I just – I wanted to know that I’m here for you, that I’m your friend. And if you need to talk to me, I can be your friend – and just your friend, not Maddie’s boyfriend. What we talk about, it stays between me and you, Buck.”

Buck gave Chimney a grateful smile. “Thank you, Chim,” he said, awkwardly wringing his polish rag between his hands, twisting, and pulling, the material taut in his hands. “I just don’t think I’m ready to talk about it with anyone, yet.”

And that was the truth of it –

Buck wasn’t ready to talk about it with anyone, not his friends, not Maddie, not even with his therapist – not yet.

“Then let’s talk about something else,” Chimney said, grabbing another polish rag, smirking at Buck. “Like your terrible polish job.”

Buck glared good-naturedly at Chimney. “I’m not a probie anymore, Chim, don’t start this.”

Chimney whistled cheerfully as he started to polish, grinning. “You’ll always be a probie to me, Buckaroo.”

v. athena

Buck hadn’t seen Athena in a while – their calls didn’t actually crossover, all that much, so it wasn’t all that unusual to have not seen her in a few weeks. A part of Buck was glad – and not because he didn’t love Athena, but he wasn’t sure if he could cope with seeing the anger she carried on his behalf in person. Buck didn’t like when other people felt burdened by his issues.

“Buck.”

Buck paused, halfway back to the truck. He couldn’t exactly ignore his Captain’s wife – or anyone, for that matter. Maddie (Maddie, always Maddie, not their parents) had raised him better than that, had raised him to be polite. “Hi, Athena.”

“I know you’re not ready to talk about it,” Athena said, hands on hips, stance fierce and protective and everything Buck never had in a mother. He was glad, May and Harry had her, at least. “But I wanted you to know – parents shouldn’t lie to their children the ways yours have lied to you. It’s cruel, and I’m sorry it happened to you, Buck.”

Buck didn’t quite know what to say. “Uh – thank you?”

“I’m not trying to overstep,” Athena raised her hands in surrender. “I’m not your mother. I’m your friend, though, Buck – and I’m someone’s mom, and I can’t stand the thought of you thinking that your parents did all this out of some twisted sense of protection for you, and Maddie. Parents – however hard – should teach you how to grieve. Not teach you to be invisible as a punishment for something you never knew happened.”

Buck nodded, shaking hands gripping tightly to his halogen. “You’re a great mom, Athena,” he said quietly.

“And you’re a great man, Evan Buckley,” Athena gave his elbow a squeeze. “I just thought you should hear that from someone today.”

vi. christopher

Buck had an armful of Christopher the second he walked through the front door of the Diaz household, the little boy flying at him, crutches and all. “Oh, hey, buddy,” Buck laughed, easily scooping a wriggling Christopher up, easing his crutches off of his arms so he could hug him properly.

“I’m glad you’re here, Buck!” Christopher said, grinning widely at Buck, his new braces glinting in the soft light of the evening, reminding Buck of how grown up the kid in his arms was getting – on the cusp of his teenage years, all too soon.

“I’m glad I’m here too, buddy,” Buck replied, holding Christopher close. He wasn’t even the kids dad – and he couldn’t imagine ever lying to him, like his parents had to him, couldn’t imagine doing anything except loving the little boy with everything he had.

“Dad said you’ve had a bad week,” Christopher said matter-of-factly. “So we have a surprise for you.”

“Oh, you do?” Buck gave Christopher a watery smile, flashing Eddie a confused look.

Eddie raised his hands in surrender. “It was all this guy,” he said proudly. “I just did the driving.”

Buck laughed, looking back at Christopher. “Where are we going, then?”

“Kitchen!”

Tossing a giggling Christopher over his shoulder, Buck made his way to the kitchen, Christopher chatting excitedly as he moved. Buck felt like he was going to cry – really, properly cry – when he spotted the feast of all of his favourite things on the Diaz kitchen table.

“We got all your favourites!” Christopher explained. “Popcorn, and chocolate – and pizza! And we’re going to watch Inside Out, because its your favourite film, and me and dad, we’re going to make sure you feel better, Buck.”

Buck wiped roughly at his eyes. This kid. “I already feel better, buddy.”

Christopher’s brow was furrowed. “But you’re crying.”

“People can cry when they’re happy, Chris,” Eddie explained, running a soothing hand down Buck’s back. “It doesn’t always mean someone is sad.”

“Your dad is right,” Buck confirmed. “I’m crying because I’m happy – and I’m very grateful to have such a thoughtful kid taking care of me.”

Christopher grinned again, patting a sticky hand against Buck’s cheek. “You’re gonna be o-kay, kid,” he beamed, and for the first time, Buck almost believed it.

vii. eddie

“He’s out like a light,” Buck said softly, half closing the porch door behind them – enough that they wouldn’t wake Christopher, with their conversation, but still open enough that they’d be able to hear if Christopher woke up in the night.

Christopher had insisted on Buck being the one to put him to bed, that night, despite how hard Eddie tried to get Christopher to give Buck a break – but Buck had enjoyed the routine of it all, if he was being honest, Christopher’s happy snorts as Buck (badly) danced around the bathroom while Christopher brushed his teeth making him forget the car-wreck his life was for a few minutes, at least.

Eddie nodded, nudging a beer toward Buck. “You spoil him, you know,” he said, not a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I know you read him two chapters of his book, not one.”

Buck hummed gratefully. “I know,” he said, voice dropping. “Kids deserve to be spoiled, a bit at least.”

“How are you doing Buck? Really?” Eddie asked, and Buck felt a dam inside him break – he’d kept everything he was feeling so bottled up, for so long, and all of a sudden, on his best friends back porch, it all came pouring out, tears cascading down his cheeks.

“I had a brother,” Buck hiccupped out, bordering on hysterical as he cried, Eddie moving quickly so he was crouching in front of Buck, soothing hands on Buck’s knees. “I had a brother, Eddie.”

Eddie’s face was twisted, a mixture of heartbreak and sympathy. “I know, Buck,” he soothed softly, gentle hands wiping at Buck’s tears, taking Buck’s hands in his own, grounding Buck in the new reality he had found himself in, the past few weeks – a world where he was suddenly the youngest of three siblings, the third Buckley, not the second.

“I always wanted a brother,” Buck admitted out-loud for the first time, unable to stop his tears, gripping tightly to Eddie’s hands. “I love – I love Maddie, but I always wanted a brother, too, and I had one, and I didn’t know, and I can’t stop thinking about how different life might have been if he was still around. He was ten years older than me.”

Eddie was quiet.

“His name was Daniel,” Buck said, shakily voicing his brothers name out-loud for the first time to someone other than maybe. “His name was Daniel, and he was ten years older than me, and I’d have been a really good brother to him, and that’s all I know, and I just – I wish I knew more.”

“You know,” Eddie’s voice was soft, and reassuring, comforting and grounding in ways that Buck wasn’t sure how he ever lived without before, his best friend the kind of anchor Buck needed, in his life. “I bet Maddie knows more.”

“Eddie….”

“I know it hurts,” Eddie squeezed Buck’s hands, his expression encouraging as Buck forced himself to look at the older man. “And it’s going to hurt for a long time, Buck, and I’m sorry for that – but you’re not alone in that hurt. Me, Chris, Hen – the others – we’re here, and we love you, and we’ll do our best to understand, but there’s one person in the world that shares this hurt with you.”

“But she knew, Eddie, she knew all along, and she didn’t tell me – and I know she was a kid and it wasn’t her fault, but it still hurts, because she got to know him and grieve him, and I didn’t.”

“Did she?” Eddie countered, wise as ever now he went to regular therapy. “She had to pretend he didn’t exist. To grieve properly – you need to talk about the person, about who they were, and Maddie didn’t get to do that. As much as she can help you get to know who Daniel was, you can help her grieve the brother she wasn’t allowed to remember. I can’t help you do that.”

Buck tightened his grip on Eddie’s hands. “I can’t, not yet,” he admitted hoarsely. “Not tonight.”

“No,” Eddie hummed his agreement. “Tonight its just you and me, and the rest of these beers, and as much crying as you want. Okay?”

Buck laughed. Back when he first met Eddie, he could never have imagined their friendship getting to this point – to where they could sit, and talk, and drink and cry together. Somehow, somewhere along the way, they’d created this safe space, together, and Buck had never been more grateful for his best friend than he was, there and then.

He had a brother.

And tonight – tonight was the first time he’d said that out loud and hadn’t felt bitter, and angry, about it. Tonight had been the first time he’d said those words out loud and wondered who the person was, who Daniel had been – instead of focusing on the lies, the hurt of it all.

That was progress.

Swallowing thickly, Buck wiped at his sore eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he directed his question at Eddie.

“Anything?” Eddie’s lips quirked up in the beginnings of a smile.

“Anything,” Buck confirmed.

Eddie grinned. “Did you know - nearly three percent of the ice in Antarctic glaciers is penguin urine?”

Buck snorted, the sound outrageously loud in the quiet of the evening. “I don’t want to know how you know that.”

(He knew – of course he knew. Eddie was the only person who knew exactly how to bring Buck out of his own head, with odd facts and quirky news articles, anything to distract Buck from the overwhelming noise of his own thoughts).

Eddie took a swig of his beer, smiling contently. “You’re not the only one who can know weird things.”

viii. maddie

When she opened the door, Maddie greeted Buck with a relief he didn’t feel deserving to be on the receiving end of.

“I’m sorry, Maddie.”

“No,” Maddie interrupted, pulling him close, clinging tightly to his shoulders, refusing to let her pregnant belly be an obstacle to squeezing the life out of Buck – and he couldn’t say he was opposed to a bone-crushing hug from his sister. “You don’t need to apologise, Buck, not to me – not about this. I should be apologising to you.”

Buck pressed his face into the material of Maddie’s cardigan, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume. She’d worn the same one since she was a teenager, and in the years when they weren’t in contact, Buck – well, he’d sometimes go to the perfume section of the department store, and sneak a sample, desperate to feel close to his sister, even if Doug had long since cut her off from him.

“I can’t hear you,” Maddie admitted, her voice soft as she ran a gentle hand through Buck’s hair.

“I said,” Buck pulled back slightly, Maddie’s tears reflecting his own. “I know we’ve got a lot to talk about – but uh, Maddie, will you tell me about him?”

Maddie brushed away a few stray tears of Buck’s before they had the chance to drip from his chin, nodding. “I’d really like that,” she confirmed, tugging Buck toward the couch. Her baby box was still on the coffee table, a photograph of Daniel – the same one Buck had found – propped up against the wood, another one next to it.

Of the three of them.

Buck looked as though he couldn’t be more than a few weeks old, in the photograph, Maddie proudly holding him in her arms, a little boy who was familiar, in so many ways, hair blond and bright like Buck’s had been, as a child – and unfamiliar in so many others, a kid who would forever be twelve years old.

“Is that us?” Buck asked, doing his best to fold his long limbs, curling himself up against Maddie, thinking back to when they were kids, and all the evenings they’d do the same – Buck curled up in her lap as they watched TV, or as Maddie soothed his tears after a fight with their parents. Her belly got in the way, a bit, and a part of Buck’s heart ached with the knowledge that someone else, his niece, would curl up in Maddie’s lap the same way he used to, in just a matter of months, but he pushed the thought aside.

“I told everyone you were my baby,” Maddie said, sounding like she was smiling. “Oh, I loved you so much from the moment you were born, Buck, and I wouldn’t let Daniel go near you – because you were mine.”

Buck didn’t try and stop his tears, now.

“He loved you just as much,” Maddie continued. “He would tell dad, how excited he was to be able to teach you to play soccer, one day, and ride a bike.”

All the things Maddie had taught him, in the end, Buck thought to himself.

“He picked your middle name,” Maddie continued. “Because he had a best friend called EJ, and he told mom and dad that you should have the same initials – Evan James - because you were going to be his new best friend.”

Closing his eyes, Buck let Maddie’s words wash over him, painting a picture of someone he would never have the chance to know – but loved, Buck thought, all the same, because Daniel couldn’t have known, how life would turn out without him, because he had only been a kid, when he died – and he wouldn’t have understood.

“He’d be proud of you, I think,” Maddie said quietly, pressing a kiss to Buck’s curls. “Because I am, Buck, I am so proud of you. You are not a disappointment. You are the greatest man I have ever known and I am so proud of you, and I love you, and I’ll tell everyone the same thing I told them when I was eight and I held you for the first time. You’re mine, Buck, not theirs.”

Buck nodded, not trusting himself to open his eyes. “I love you, Maddie.”

“I love you, little brother,” Maddie sounded like she was crying too, now. “We’re going to be okay.”

Buck –

Well, he didn’t have a reason not to believe his sister.

He wanted to believe her.

And maybe –

Just maybe.

He already did.

Yeah.

They would be okay.

[wistcrias]

PRETTY LITTLE LIARS & TRAUMA, RE : THE DOLLHOUSE . 

it’s really fascinating the way the girls attempt to heal and take back control of their lives after the events of the dollhouse in 5x24 and 6x01 –– after traumatic events, people tend to search for a way to regain independence and autonomy after events that are typically out of their control. so it makes sense that the girls all cope in ways that are ultimately different, but at their core, the same. 

aria: photography and closure.  aria immediately wants to close the book on the situation and see andrew in jail. she’s willing to go down to the police station and lie about seeing andrew’s face because she just wants closure on the entire situation. when ezra says she could write about it, she doesn’t even want to do that, and that’s because she wants to avoid what happened and move on. she represents an aspect of denial, and wanting to leave what happened in the dark and in the past. she turns to photography as both an outlet, but also as a way of turning the camera around on someone else. for weeks she was observed without any privacy, and she takes that lack of bodily autonomy back in her hands by becoming the photographer instead of the subject. 

spencer: coping with anxiety and medications.  spencer has been known to have her addictive tendencies: this makes sense when we look at the way her family treats failure and setbacks and their reputation, and also when we consider that she’s jason’s half-sister, which means that addiction definitely has to be a genetic thing that runs in their family considering the two of them struggle with their own addictions. so when spencer comes back from the dollhouse, she wants to process this and be able to confront it and not brush it under the rug. her family is the opposite of aria’s (a positive one where trauma can be discussed and isn’t considered shameful) in that way, and as a result, she is fighting for the validation of: “this is something that happened to me and something I need to acknowledge and work on”. she turns to sleeping pills to get the rest her overactive brain can’t provide her, and then weed to help battle the anxiety –– I think she is feeling incredibly invalidated by her family members and i think if they allowed her to use the sleeping pills, or even the weed under extreme supervision, it would be a more effective and less harmful way of her feeling seen and achieving the kind of peace she needs, potentially. 

emily: guns, anger and self-defense.  for emily, her response to the trauma of the dollhouse is establishing a narrative where she is not helpless. where she can defend herself. she puts on he father’s coat, for safety –– it’s likely when she was younger emily always thought her dad could protect her for anything. even though that’s not true, she still turns to it for the reassurance of safety and protection. she finds his guns and goes to the shooting range to make herself feel stronger. to make herself feel in command of her own narrative and life. for the majority of the show, in fact, emily has been singled out as ‘the weakest link’ and she has constantly been pushing to tell people and to show herself that she is the not that. that she’s strong and a survivor. it’s where her stubborness and her tenacity really shine through. and emily, who is a church girl, and who likely has had to make her emotions more palatable, also has to reckon with a great deal of anger at the injustice of everything she’s had to endure. its an anger that is righteous and fiery, and it burns inside her, looking for a way out. 

hanna: starting fresh and finding safety.  hanna’s biggest trauma that we see is that her home was taken from her. her room, her sanctum –– the safety of what it represents was stripped from her. a had copied it to every minute detail, and that removal of privacy means that her most private moments in her room have been taken from her. she can no longer feel safe or comfortable in that space without starting fresh. hanna strips the wallpaper, and gets rid of all the furniture ––  by doing this, she is starting fresh and putting up a firm blockade between before and after. as dramatic as it is, what hanna does is very reasonable, because every item in the room is a trigger for her. however, we see that hanna reaches some amount of peace because she does want her old bedside table back. this shows that despite wanting to get rid of everything, a cannot completely tear down her feeling of safety, and I think that’s because at the end of the day, hanna also finds her safety with her mom, and with caleb. and as long as she has them, and the girls, she can still find some measure of safety with them. that being said, eventually safety begins to feel overwhelming and cloistering. hanna doesn’t want to be treated like glass –– she wants to be treated like someone who won’t break. she, like emily, doesn’t want to be a victim. she needs normalcy, and when her loved ones make her feel trapped and fragile, it only serves to push her away. 

and so that leaves mona –– who isn’t one of the liars, so to speak, but who I think it’s important to look at because a) she was in the dollhouse with them, b) I write her on this blog so of course I’d like to think about her reaction and c) we never actually see her trauma response on the show so I’d like to propose her reactions and process of dealing with her ptsd. this is going to be slightly speculative, since we don’t get too much of mona processing, but we can see that when she returns to rosewood, she’s not afraid of a still, but rather alison. despite all she’s been made to endure, her fear remains of alison. what does this tell us about mona? well, we know she thinks practically and impractically, to a degree. a is a threat, yes, but alison is the more pressing one because it’s the threat that mona can actually see. on the other hand, she has only her perception of alison to go on. despite hanna reassuring her that alison isn’t looking for revenge, mona can only see alison the way she remembers her. mona projects her fears onto alison, and I think to a degree, that’s her lack of control spiraling out and doing that. 

mona, who as dr. sullivan once described as having fantasies of totalitarian control, needs that in her life. I can imagine after the dollhouse, she felt much like the other girls –– spinning out and unable to do anything about it. did this exacerbate or lessen her worst tendencies is the question? I would say yes, but I do think it also increased her empathy for the girls. people who go through trauma together are often bonded, and even as the girls reject her again and again after the dollhouse, mona does see them as a unit to a degree. they’re no longer her dolls –– at least not in the same way as before. 

so, in conclusion, the girls are changed by the dollhouse, but not in dramatic ways. their trauma expands on traits and feelings that were already there, but pushes them to their limits. in response, the girls fight back against it in their own ways, each of which is unique to their backgrounds and personal identities. 

[generalstuff1929]

So I need to bitch real quick... also

Spoiler warning!!

WHY THE FUCK IS EVERYONE HATING LUCIFER SO AGGRESSIVELY WHEN THIS MAN IS JUST TRYING HIS BEST?!

Like don't get me wrong his choices in Obey Me's main storyline are not the best. But BITCH chill the fuck out and look at the entire picture, not just scrutinizing about the really bad stuff and not see the intentions.

First of all Luci acknowledged that Belphie hated humans and knew that Diavolo wants to unit the realms, right? Right. So Belphie being extremely opposed to this, lead to him wanting to cause havoc to the Human realm. Which is MOTHERFUCKING TREASONOUS!! Especially to the eyes of Lord Diavolo! So locking up Belphie makes sense and keeping him in the dungeon until he's judged for this is justified. What does Luci do? He locks him in the attic, tricks Diavolo that Belphie will be going to human world for the exchange program to PROTECT HIM!!! And the fall out with MC freeing Belphie literally brought Luci's plan crashing down, IT MAKES SENSE THAT HE WOULD BE PISSED!! All of his attempts to protect his family, all that planning, all of that lying to DIAVOLO who would have known that Luci was lying but didn't, was shattered. Was it the right way to go about the situation? Absolutely not, Luci acted quickly and had to make sure his family came first. And when us, the MC, crashed down all of his hard work, his reaction was to KILL US BECAUSE HIS FAMILY WAS AT RISK!!!

Second addressing the way he treats his brothers. HE IS LEGITIMATELY THE FATHER FIGURE OF THE BROTHERS!! He is the oldest therefore the most responsible for their actions. He is practically raising them on his own because as much as we love Mammon he isnt really helping with how he spends so much money and gets himself in so much trouble and we know Mammon knows this. He is anything but an idiot, he's smart it's just he acts before he thinks and that is legitimately his biggest fault. It's why he gets in so much trouble. Leviathan keeps to himself, he's giant Otaku nerd! But he's barely passing his classes because of his social anxiety and his preference of staying home and just game all day. Luci is worried about his future because he's so focused on the virtual world that he isnt thinking of ways of furthering himself into the real world. It's why he despises Levi's likes and passions. Satan is an obvious case do I really need to go over that one? Asmodeous is care free and believes he's pretty much the center of the world. He wants to have fun and look good while doing it. But because he's so invested in himself, he's not seeing the bigger picture that he leaves scars where ever he goes. Beelzebub is the most loyal to Lucifer thus being a breathe of fresh air. But he's a double edge sword with how easily he can change his alliance with a simple offer of food. And when Belphie was freed he made it clear that Belphie, his twin, is more important than Luci when it comes down to it.

Could you imagine having to take care off all of that by yourself? With the added pressure that you've fallen from the celestial realm into the Devildom, your soul and body signed off to the Lord of said realm, with scars and trauma because of someone you used to call a father? This man is suffering and he's using his pride to keep himself a float and sane. If your not a fan of this man that is completely fine, call him an abuser go ahead. But you can not sit there on your ass and tell me this man isn't suffering for trying his hardest to raise his siblings and protect them.

I apologize for the rant but I see so much hate for this poor baby and I needed to voice my opinion just like everyone else is. And yes feel free to call me a Lucifer Stan cause I wear that badge with pride!😎

[introverted-explorer]

My thoughts on 2x12 and Carlos beneath the cut.

I’m not sure anyone actually cares for my thoughts but I’ll give them anyway. Warning that there is a very unpopular opinion in this. Please don’t send hate my way for this. If you want to talk about it I’m definitely down, but this episode was a lot to process. 

tl;dr: Carlos is an anxious person and it manifests in really interesting ways. Tarlos has good communication but when they don’t, and their roles are not clearly defined, it can be incredibly hostile. Both needed a real conversation about what went down in the fire station; an honest explanation of what happened, and apologies on both sides. 

Carlos is an anxious person. He’s a people pleaser through and through, especially when it comes to those closest to him. We see it with his need to impress his father, never living up to his expectations, and a general sense of disconnect due to a need of approval from his parents. We see it in how he often responds to TK pushing away in season 1 and 2x4. He has such a hard shell, which as a cop works well for him, but it often hurts him in his personal life.

Time for the unpopular opinion. Carlos is not totally without blame for what happened at the fire station. I want to make it VERY clear that I don’t condone anyone putting their hands on anyone, but this was a situation with extremely high tensions and it was clearly going to come out one way or another. Carlos saw the switch in TK. We usually see Carlos take a step back from TK when he’s upset like that, whether that’s physical or metaphorical. This wasn’t the case in this situation. He had just gotten a negative response to his suspicions and instead of deescalating the situation, he doubled down. I believe someone said that Carlos came in as a cop and not TK’s boyfriend, and that really shows in that scene. There was an unbalanced power dynamic there, in Carlos’ favor. There were different expectations of what they were going to get out of each other and that conversation and when TK didn’t get the response he was expecting from his partner, he reacted poorly. This is VERY likely a trauma response. It was clear he was already agitated and upset and his own anxiety was spiking. It’s not ooc for him to fight back when he feels cornered - especially if Owen is involved (this is a much lengthier conversation). So it’s not really surprising when he reacted the way he did. He quite literally looked like a scared animal when Carlos had him in that hold - snarling, uneven breathing, trying to physically get away but stuck in place. I adore Carlos, I really do, but the way he moved and held TK wasn’t great either. Some probably view this as self defense, and sure it was in a sense - probably even self preservation, but the number one thing I’ve learned is not to restrain someone in crisis, and if you have to, it’s not like that. The entire scene was explosive (no pun intended there) and neither really handled it the right way. I also think it’s pretty clear they had an actual conversation between that scene and TK going back home to the “we agreed neither of us has to apologize” scene. This show isn’t the best with timing - hell they reshot the best, and maybe most important, scene less than 2 weeks ago and were adding scenes - and this conversation needed a lot more attention and nuance than a quick 2-3 minute scene that we would get on a show like this. Yes, I would have preferred to see that conversation because it is important for them to address their issues, but this an hour long show and we were dealing with a couple other twisty major plots, it wasn’t a tarlos episode and we have to acknowledge that there’s more to this show than them. As an aside: I’m super grateful for all of the fic writers putting out that scene, I’ve read almost all of them already. I guess what I’m trying to say is that both were in a defensive place and clearly hurt each other. They both deserved an apology from the other and a much larger conversation had to be had. Given their history, I don’t see either of them backing down and letting that slide. They were clearly distraught at the end of that scene and needed each other but that’s not what they got. I guess this brings me back to my original point?

Carlos making dinner and waiting for TK to come home was expected. TK was clearly deeply bothered by what went down. Whether he blamed Carlos or not is somewhat irrelevant. He was upset at that situation and we see that in how timid he was when he got home. He was trying to tell Carlos it wasn’t his fault and tried to take blame but Carlos deflected. Again, this is to be expected. I think this episode did a good job exposing their insecurities and trauma history. Carlos wanted to make sure TK wasn’t going anywhere and would go to great lengths to make that not happen. There’s a post circulating about Carlos’ denial of TK’s apology but apologizes profusely after the fire. I’m not calling anyone out if they have this opinion, but I think this has more to do with the people pleasing and protecting than anything else. Carlos doesn’t want to lose TK. Not once did TK make a comment about the lack of a fire extinguisher in their bedroom other than “okay, we can make this work”. It doesn’t matter though. In Carlos’ mind he put them in danger (when really their dad’s did...) and he couldn’t protect the person he loves. His upbringing has clearly done a number on his psyche. He’s sensitive and highly emotionally intelligent, but he also pushes that all aside until he literally hits a breaking point. That makes for a very strung out person, we see this in his reactions to forgetting the limes. I don’t think TK wanted or needed an apology after the fire. I think he wanted Carlos to accept his feelings and let his guard done enough to actually process the events of the last few days in their life. And he does. And it’s absolutely heartbreaking.

I guess what I’m trying to say in this is that Carlos is just as anxious as TK but we’re able to look away from it because of his confident presentation and smooth exterior. Communication is their best quality and when you take that away with defensive responses to that anxiety, it creates a very hostile situation.

[likeabxrdinflight]

To keep you from spiraling in covid anxiety, here's another Fire Nation siblings question! What do you think Zuko should do to repair his relationship with Azula?

Haha, thank you! I went to bed after making that post lol, but I’m still happy to answer. 

I think the best thing Zuko can do for Azula, at first, is to leave her alone and continue working out his own shit. He’s not suddenly all better after years of abuse and abandonment because he had one good summer. Plus, he’s taking on a huge responsibility and Zuko is known to get snappy when he’s stressed. Visiting Azula would definitely stress him out on top of everything else, so he’d be likely to take it out on her. Especially since she’d probably try to needle him and get under his skin. They’re better off away from one another until they’ve both had time to heal and process.

One thing I always disagreed with with Aaron Ehasz’s tweet storm about an Azula redemption arc is his idea that Zuko would be the one to help Azula like Iroh helped him. I don’t think Zuko’d be good at that role, frankly, when he’s still just a kid himself (and a kid that now has a whole nation to worry about.) And it’s not Zuko’s job to try and “save his sister.” That’s never a sibling’s responsibility. So if he was trying to approach her out of some kind of familial obligation, that’s already a bad starting point. And Azula doesn’t need saving. That rescue fantasy isn’t super helpful- she needs help, she needs healing, but she also needs her own sense of autonomy and empowerment in finding who she wants to be without Ozai.

There’s just too much bad blood between them, and Zuko very clearly did not understand Azula’s perspective. He sees her as complicit in Ozai’s abuse of him, he sees her as a part of the toxicity of his family rather than a victim of it. He can’t even hope to fix things with her unless he loses that viewpoint, and I’m not sure he will or even wants to. The issue of sibling abuse/toxicity is complicated, because while Azula certainly hurt Zuko, she was doing so under the direct influence (and sometimes orders) of her father, so it’s more complex than “Azula behaved badly.” We have to understand her context and what influences were acting on her- this is why I’m always a little hesitant to describe sibling toxicity as abuse when there’s a clear parental influence. Certainly sometimes siblings can be abusive to each other, I’ve seen instances of that in my own family, but in the case of the Fire sibs, the root of it is so easily drawn back to Ozai that it’s harder to outright condemn Azula as if her actions were entirely of her own doing. 

But Zuko doesn’t see it that way. Zuko just sees his mean, bully of a sister who has everything he ever wanted. He has his own hurt and his own pain that precludes him from being able to acknowledge hers. And he needs to work all that out, and correct that black-and-white view of her before he can even try to have a relationship with her. Zuko is an abuse victim too so he has his own complex trauma that’s getting in the way here- he’s always had a bit of a black-and-white worldview (which I think explains why he swaps from “bad” to “good” so quickly once he commits to it) and that’s a frequent sign of trauma. As long as he’s associating Azula with “bad”, with his own abuse, he’s not going to be able to have any kind of healthy relationship with her. 

And to be clear, I think whether or not he ever wants to have a relationship with Azula is up to him. She did hurt him, and if he chooses not to make amends with her...that’s his choice. No one’s obligated to maintain a relationship with someone they find toxic or harmful to their wellbeing. But if he did want to try and forgive her, to try and mend things...he’d need to really adjust his perception of her. Otherwise they’re just gonna fall back into the same harmful dynamic.