#mental illnesses can be fixed by having children
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
silvershadow1711 · 2 days ago
Text
In a show where an oligarchy, ruling a city that has crippled and even killed the lower classes to earn its wealth and status, uses experimental technology that has a deleterious effect on living matter (including one of the only plants that provides fresh air to the aforementioned lower class) (this is never fixed or even addressed again btw) to illegally line their pockets and make weapons, the actual "bad guys", the people the show says need to be stopped at all costs are...
A disabled revolutionary who wants his people freed from the yoke of the oligarchy's opression.
A mentally-ill orphan who lost her parents to police brutality.
A disabled man who was actively dying because of the polution pumped into his home by the ruling class, who uses his magic powers to heal the sick (this is a BAD thing, according to the writers; healing the things that cause you pain makes you an empty shell)
And a scary black foreign woman who leads an invasion of also scary, barbaric foreigners to take over the oligarchal city. Which makes the lower classes that have been opressed and killed by the oligarchy decide that they want to die for oligarchal city... rather than the rich elites who actually live there and are in danger.
But, y'know, the writers didn't want to make a "political" show.
I think the thing people fail to realise about Caitlyn's "redemption" and lack thereof is that the plot contorts itself around her never having to question her core beliefs or stop following the power structures she's always followed. Isn't Caitlyn's flaw as a character a confidence in "the system"? A genuine belief that the best way to help people in to remain loyal to the government and give the police more and more destruction weapons and freedoms to use them against whoever they deem fit. Would not a "redemption arc" require her to actually question those beliefs? People seem to think her betraying Ambessa is an example of that? No, her loyalty was never to Ambessa, but to the ruling class of Piltover. She follows Ambessa when she's fooled into thinking Ambessa has the same goals as the ruling class, and betrays her when she realises that isn't the case. She defends Piltover at the end to "protect people", yes, but she only ever gets justified in her existing belief that oligarchical government and violent hyper-militarised cops are the the way to do that. She never changes, the writers just have circumstances realign to where she's now on the "good" side. If the writers had never introduced "evil disabled man who wants to destroy the entire world for no reason" and "evil black woman who loves killing for no reason", and kept the central conflict as being primarily Piltover against Zaun, Caitlyn would've had to change. The way it is, unless you think Caitlyn's arc was learning that destroying the world for no reason was bad, she has the exact same ideology in season 1 episode 1 as she does in season 2 episode 9. It was Vi who changed and decided police brutality was amazing and living in a mansion while other people eat shit is cool as fuck.
Bottom line, you can like Arcane all you want but for god's sake don't pretend it has a leftist or revolutionary message if you have a shred of media literacy.
275 notes · View notes
cats-in-the-clouds · 7 months ago
Text
my sister got engaged and we’re all really happy for her but my bitter rain cloud of a dad (who naturally she told last) is giving her a bit of passive aggressive grief about it despite her boyfriend being like the best man of our generation (presumably either because he’s not catholic or because my dad sees them as young dumb unemployed people who aren’t ready for marriage or because he’s mad he barely has any real love with his own wife or something). so like pray for us? i wish i knew what to do
#if my dad had any brain cells or observational skills whatsoever#he’d realize that in terms of our faith the problem is not the boyfriend. that guy is brilliant and open minded and would probably ace RCIA#the problem is my sister. who is catholic in name but it’s clear to me how hard she’s fallen away from the faith#but like my dad has created such a bitter home environment we never have meaningful conversations with him#so like he doesn’t know *anything* about our inner lives#all he sees is labels. all he judges people by is labels#literally you can still get married in the church to a non catholic it’s just a matter of expecting them to convert eventually#and promising to still live according to the principles of the church and raising your children as such#but my parents are absolute fools if they think that’s the issue. if my sister was true in her faith her bf would have converted already#i am sure of it. the guy is smart he just needs to be guided the right way#evidently my parents don’t realize that about him either#if my dad could become a decent parent for once and stop trying to drive his kids away from the faith by only cherrypicking the parts of it#that intersected with republican/conservative boomerisms#ugh. if he was a virtuous father she’d be a virtuous daughter and therefore all her friends and loved ones would be virtuous as well#should i blame my dad for all our family problems? no.. not rightfully……#but like. the impact a father has on one’s life cannot be understated#ugh i’ve had the sense for a while that God wants me to be the one to fix this family#because looking around it doesn’t look like anyone else is gonna do it#but that’s such a daunting task… especially alone… i don’t have any true friends (ie who share both my faith and life experiences)#and like. it’s really hard to try to assume the role of a teacher or counselor when someone is older than you#or uh. in a position of direct power over you for that matter. esp when clearly deeply mentally ill#the concept of trying to essentially parent my own parent while i myself am miserable and unstable#esp when he is the primary cause of that#just. ughhhhh it’s such a vicious circle#like i’ll do this if i have to i’ll undertake that daunting mission but i have to be so careful and really sort myself out first#or for that matter if i were to volunteer to like. catechize my sister’s boyfriend (heaven knows she couldn’t do it)#i’d have to really study my stuff bc i think the intellect is the only real appeal here#like i said tho his conversion can probably never really happen as long as my sister remains the way she is#what i know is that the first step is fixing myself. i have to be a pillar of virtue if i wanna stand as any sort of authority on the faith#problem is i suck and shouldn’t be regarded as a role model for anything. i have the knowledge down but that alone won’t fix me
1 note · View note
audreycritter · 2 years ago
Text
every time i see a post talking about how alfred pennyworth failed bruce for not getting him into therapy as a kid i want to scream.
it did not exist. the idea that children could have PTSD was just starting to be discussed in the late 80s/early 90s at the FRINGE of child psychology, and then trauma therapy even for adults spent an unhelpful 2ish decades dominated by forced-conversation talk therapy. that's a thing that is detrimental to trauma recovery, because if someone doesn't feel safe or in control of the dialogue about their trauma and is repeatedly asked to describe their trauma when they're uneasy, it COMPOUNDS TRAUMA AND FEELINGS OF DANGER.
when bruce was a kid, even the best psychs available would have had training that taught them kids bounce back, that kids don't respond to or handle trauma the way adults do, and that any behaviors post-trauma were almost certainly unrelated mental illness.
i see this esp in fandom circles but a gentle reminder that therapy even when it's good doesn't fix everything. even if bruce had HAD access to good childhood PTSD therapy, he would still have grief, he would still potentially be socially awkward or withdrawn, he might have still decided to be Batman because it's a comic book where being a vigilante isn't as wild as it is irl.
therapy requires honesty, readiness, safety, sound application of theory, an accurate picture of life outside the therapy room (self-reporting is often flawed!), consistency, and more! it can help but it doesn't erase trauma or grief. it's dismissive of the history of trauma therapy to say an adult "should have" had a kid in a therapy approach that didn't exist, and it's dismissive of the actual work of therapy to act like therapy would have made everything ideal. bruce isn't going to be a normal, well-adjusted adult because his parents were murdered in front of him. he could be happy! he could have coping skills! but honestly it would be weirder if he didn't wrestle with residual trauma and grief throughout his life.
and maybe this is just because i love Batman, and love specifically Batman as a symbol/figure of hope and sacrifice and the belief that every life matters, but I don't think the worst ending here is Bruce deciding to give up a lot of his time, energy, and health to work in Gotham AND then choose to parent a traumatized child and actively meet his needs. like you think the alternative is that Alfred is a better parent by getting him into non-existent therapy and then he stays comfortably wealthy at home and is just another rich dude? that's the ideal version? the one who can't help Dick Grayson because Dick Grayson wants to run away and murder a man?
anyway tl;dr alfred should have flaws, yes, but there's a big gap between "flawed human parental figure" and "man who massively failed Bruce in multiple ways, one of which was not putting him in therapy."
3K notes · View notes
techramonic · 7 months ago
Text
A Comprehensive Analysis on Eric Harris, 3.
Disclaimer: This analysis/psychoanalysis is limited only to analysis as a means to reflect and understand the people involved. It is strictly informative. Just like all of my posts, I am detached from the media I write about and solely focus on the people to understand their psychology, for others to gain insight. There is no room for me to romanticize or glorify anything I write because I am only here to explain. I understand and research, but I do not condone. Thank you.
note: This is all solely based on independent research. If I may be wrong with the medical aspects of this post, please correct me. I would appreciate it a lot.
Fluvoxamine Maleate
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Just a few days before the shooting, Eric was promptly rejected from his application to serve in the marines. Despite his desirable qualities, he was rejected for the sole reason of being tested positive for consuming a prescripted drug after rejecting that he was off any medication. With a trace of Luvox in his system, theories speculate that the drug's side effects played a role on the events that have transpired. Luvox is a medication prescription drug that is used to treat mental illnesses such as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), anxiety, depression, and others. While there are positive effects, the downside are heightened sensations of dread, irritation, depression, and arising violent behaviors. It also has a chance to increase manic symptoms, especially if taken in particularly large doses.
Anti-depressant usage, effects of overdose, and detoxification
When taken over the prescribed dosage, Luvox can lead to increased agression and suicidal ideation and tendencies. Eric was in anger management therapy after being on probation alongside Dylan for attempting to steal a vehicle containing thousands worth of valuable electronics and tools. After getting caught, Eric openly expressed his difficulties in managing his anxiety and explosive anger issues that his counselor said, "he frequently blew up and often cried." Revealing that this influences his homicidal and suicidal thoughts, so he was prescribed Fluvoxamine, which is a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRIs). These drugs increase the capacity of the brain to receive serotonin.
According to an interview with Eric's friends, they speculate that Eric was off his medication completely for sometime. Abruptly stopping medication can lead to the development of a more violent response. For some people, drugs are able to fix their chemical imbalances, but it can also lead to withdrawal symptoms of taken for over the duration of 6 weeks. Abruptly discontinuing anti-depressants can lead to rebound depression or relapse. Symptoms may return stronger than before. Furthermore, SSRI's such as Luvox and Prozac take about 5 days to linger in one's system before subsequently washing off.
In a period of 11 months, Eric and Dylan have been under a juvenile detention program at Jefferson County district — this was in 1998, just a year before the shooting. They were allowed to leave the program by early February 1999. After finishing, Eric wrote a letter contained in his juvenile diversion program file. He states, "I learned that thousands of suggestions are worthless if you still believe in violence."
After public demands for stricter regulations on SSRIs after the tragic shooting, Luvox was temporarily banned in 2002. By 2008, drug manufacturers had reformulated Luvox to a controlled-release version specifically designed to treat OCD, excluding indications for depression or anxiety. Subsequently, the FDA approved Luvox CR for the treatment of OCD. The label does not explicitly prohibit prescribing it to the pediatric population, it notes that the smallest dose "may not be appropriate" for children, without providing further explanation.
Eric was about 17 at the time of taking the medication, which means he is part of the pediatric population. Though it's still unclear if he was taking normal doses for a long period of time or taken more than what was prescribed, it is clear that there was negligence with prescribing a child a SSRI that has the posibility of worsening their already apparent symptoms.
Columbine was really a case that opened the public's eyes into the dysfunctional aspects of society and institutions, transcending even to the medical field.
411 notes · View notes
byou-shin · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
[BYOU-SHIN] Esther (House + Sim DL)
Treat #2 and the last treat. Get other treats ☻∔∔ Happy Simblreen @simblreenofficial
"i want that child born in the moon's shadow reborn tonight .... faintly and fragilely falls, you are one ... to the garden beyond reach where you sleep"
Esther _ Eshter's House
20x20, located in Widdenburg
CCS are included, thanks all CC creators
Cheats : bb.moveobjects
╰┈ ⋆。˚ ♱ *· ࿐ ࿔ ˚:⋆ ✧゚
Esther _ Esther & Her Family
Elizabeth Navarrete : Adult (42), Female
Esther Navarrete : Young Adult (18), Female
Julio Navarrete : Teen (13), Male
╰┈ ⋆。˚ ♱ *· ࿐ ࿔ ˚:⋆ ✧゚
DOWNLOAD (Patreon free)
Notes !! (Please read) ↓
Note 1 :
bb.moveobjects should be the only cheats I used here, but if it says something is missing, you can type "bb.showhiddenobjects" and/or "bb.showliveeditobjects", because some cc is taged as Debug.
Note 2 :
Build size is around 1,65 gb, it's pretty big yes. There are some cc that couldn't work unless I include the whole set. While the sims size is around 382 mb. If you are pleased by my work, you can download it with heart.
Note 3 :
There are some cc overrides that I included in here because I have them in my game. If you don't want, you can remove these cc overrides :
k-hippie-k707-nature-base-plants-debug-26062021
pbox_liberated-plants_FloweryShrubs
[Moriel] BG_bush_azalea_01_replacement
k-hippie-k707-nature-all-trees-replacement-26062021
Note 4 :
Needed expansion is :
Vampires : for the spandrels
Get Together : for the roof scupltures
Seasons : for the chimmey
Note 5 :
Please note that I'm an amateur at making things, but I love decorating. This house can be said to be a decorative house. Because I myself am a maximalist. I combined southern gothic, european-vintage, morute, shabby, and religious themes in this home. You can call it yourself whatever. If you are happy, you can use it.
Note 6 :
There are some problems while I tried to upload the file on Patreon, so Alt. Download is via Google Drive. You can access it on Gdrive while Patreon still does't work. I wrote the "Alt. Link" on the post. Look it up. I will fix Patreon issue later.
Catatan 7:
Think of this sim download as my Sim Dump 02 (Sim Dump 01 here), as my initial idea was to create a building with sims living in it in the background. The story is that the mother contracted mental illness after her husband died. He often takes out his crazy feelings on his children. However, his older brother always tried his best to protect his younger brother. The dogs bite and lick the hands who feed them.
"i want that child born in the moon's shadow reborn tonight .... faintly and fragilely falls, you are one ... to the garden beyond reach where you sleep"
292 notes · View notes
lenaellsi · 1 year ago
Text
I'm wondering how much of the fandom reaction of "Aziraphale doesn't ACTUALLY want Crowley to be an angel, he just wants to keep him safe/happy!" is because we spent four years between seasons assuming that Aziraphale had already accepted that Heaven and Hell aren't all that different, and that demons and angels aren't inherently good or bad. And it's difficult to let go of that idea in the same way that it's difficult to let go of the idea that they talked their shit out That Night At Crowley's Flat and have been happy ever since. But to actually understand Aziraphale's choice without hiding it behind coffee or lies or secret plans or body swaps or magic tricks or purely romantic intentions, we have to to understand that Aziraphale is still working under an incorrect framework of the world as divided into Cosmic Good and Cosmic Evil.
Because the thing is. Aziraphale does not like that Crowley is a demon. He just doesn't. We can talk about his reasons, but I really don't think that it's a disputable fact at this point. Aziraphale CONSTANTLY talks down to Crowley about the differences between them, and disparages demons in general and Crowley in particular over and over again. I mean, he's obviously just spewing the party line at this point, but he even describes the ultimate triumph of Heaven over Hell as "rather lovely." To Crowley. Where does he think Crowley fits, in that scenario? Is he thinking about it? (He is, surely, given how distressed he is over the danger Crowley is in due to the Arrangement?)
Crowley, to be fair, often says similar things about himself, and hates when Aziraphale calls him things like 'nice.' But as I've mentioned in another post, I think 2.03 makes it all but canon that a lot of that is self-preservation. Hell can't know that he's running around saving children and rescuing people from suicide and poverty, or he'll get dragged down there for decades. Crowley doesn't really think of himself as evil--he's visibly upset during their argument when Aziraphale hits him with "you're the bad guys!" because he thinks Aziraphale knows him better than that.
But instead, Aziraphale makes knee-jerk assumptions about Crowley and his intentions over and over again, including that he's behind the Reign of Terror in Paris and, about two minutes before realizing he's in love with him, that he's working with Nazis. Crowley seems annoyed and hurt both times, and denies it. There's no demonic posturing from him then.
Which makes the Job ep really interesting, right? Because Crowley actively lies and says that he is doing the properly demonic thing, but Aziraphale doesn't buy it. And why doesn't he buy it?
"I know the angel you were."
To Aziraphale, Crowley's kindness stems from the traces of that angel he knew. He thinks Crowley does good in spite of his nature, and not because of who he is as a person, life experiences as a demon very much included. This is because to Aziraphale, Heaven is Good, and all goodness must stem from it.
I've seen people get accused, when making this point, of attacking Aziraphale, or saying that he doesn't love Crowley, which is a ridiculous takeaway from S2. I've never seen a person more obviously in love, or a person more obviously trying to do good in the world. But so much of Aziraphale is tied up in his ability to believe multiple contradictory things at once. (See: the 80 years between "maybe there is something to be said for shades of gray" and "Heaven is the side of truth, of light, of good.") That doesn't make him stupid or ill-intentioned (in fact, he wouldn't need to do the kind of mental gymnastics we see from him if he wasn't clever enough to see through at least some of the bullshit) but it does mean that he's fully capable of loving Crowley while at the same time believing that demons are 'the bad guys.' Solution? Make Crowley an angel. Fix him, fix the bad apples in Heaven, be happy together, eliminate human suffering. Vavoom. Sorted.
Idk man. I'm constantly seeing takes that just...completely discount that Aziraphale really, genuinely, has misunderstood Crowley and the way the world works in his choice to return to Heaven. We can't blame it all on miscommunication. The most honest conversation in the world wouldn't fix this. Aziraphale has to go up there, without Crowley, and learn for the last time that Heaven is not Good, and will never be Good, because there is no Good. Good doesn't come from Heaven, or God, or even Crowley (and I see y'all, putting Crowley on a pedestal, saying Aziraphale wants to remake Heaven in his image--stop it.) Good comes from making the choice, in a very complicated world, to help as best you can, and it comes from love. And that's what Aziraphale will learn in season 3.
789 notes · View notes
evilminji · 1 year ago
Text
Saw it mentioned, have to wonder >.>
Just? HOW Ecto-Contaminated ARE the Fentons? Maddie and Jack?
We as a Phandom rather rightfully give them flak for their neglectfulness and single minded pursuits... but SHOULD we be?
Or has that ship long since sailed?
Even before the portal, they were working with countless samples. Were EXPOSED to the prototype, alongside Vlad. Not directly. Not full, standing in front of it, exposed.
But?
Isn't radiation still radiation? They were IN the room. Less then about a yard or two away. And on top of that they NEVER stopped researching.
How much Ectoplasm particulates have the breathed in? Absorbed through skin contact? EATEN?
Those weenies? The ones that came alive? Have they eaten those INCREDIBLY TAINTED meats? What about subtly tainted things? Things that got Ectoplasm on them, but didn't meet the threshold for reanimation?
What about cups? It's a viscose substance. Does a dishwasher REALLY clean those cups of every trace?
How... how many YEARS of build up, have accumulated in their systems?
Jack Fenton kool-aid man's his way though WALLS. His wife moves faster and with greater agility then a woman her age should rightfully be ABLE too. They lift weapons, with ease, that normal humans would buckle under.
Their son survived the impossible.
Was that house a petri-dish of ecto-contaminations? Who checked in on them. Who would even NOTICE if the local "crack-pots" were slowly... slipping. Grins getting too wide. Eyes too bright. Minds too strange. Becoming... Obsessive.
Who would notice if they started to lose track of time. Of meals. Of their daughter. Then their son. Lost to the BEAUTY of RESEARCH. Of SCIENCE. Ghosts.
They would shake themselves out of it. Again and again. Where is their daughter? Their kids? Weren't they about to make lunch? Why is it dawn? Why are the kids sleeping on the floor? They would frown and promise themselves they'd do better. They're parents now!
They love their children.
More then ANYTHING. Their kiddos are the best thing to ever happen to them. They love them so, SO much. So why? Why are they having such a hard time remembering? Focusing? Why do they keep getting distracted?
Consider another father. Box Ghost.
Which is more important to him? Lunch Box or Boxes?
What a cruel, unspeakable thing to ask. You'd be kicked out of any haunt you dare voiced it in. The core of his soul and the greatest thing he's ever made, his bestest baby girl. He would tear himself apart, trying to chose.
The father in him would not hesitate, his daughter, every time. But the GHOST in him? Boxes, with out question. Like a glitching, error filled, feedback loop. One but the other, but the one, but the other! Until something gave or it killed him.
Or until the question no longer applies.
Do you think Jazz realized her parents... weren't well? She wouldn't realize WHAT was wrong for over a decade. But? Watching them fight themselves, fight each OTHER, confused and distressed...
Which is more important? Their Kids or Their Research?
Human enough to fight their Obsessions, but Limnal enough it causes severe distress. Their kids, they insist. Their KIDS! They argue! Research, Research, Research. Hisses something they can't control, wrapped around their brains and nerves and SOULS.
A compulsion they can't fight.
And Jazz watches it eat up their family and lives. She doesn't understand. She hates it. She goes to the library and on the computer and all she can find to compare it too, is "mental illnesses". It's tearing her family apart. Making her parents break promise after promise, even when they TRY. Making EVERYBODY cry.
She wants to fix it. When things get broken in their house, they FIX them. She can too. She tries for YEARS.
But are the Fentons broken? Or are they just... no longer quite human. Is the tragedy not that they got "sick" so much that they were left alone with innocent children who were NOT?
A ghost can not help, being what it is. And what is a Limnal? If not a very, VERY Ghostly Human? Box Ghost is an excellent father to Box Lunch. But would he be an equally good father to a human toddler? Would ANY Ghost?
They would TRY. Would love them and read parenting books. May even successful raise them. But it would not have been wise. Nor without great struggle. We can all admit that. There is far more to raising someone then just loving them.
And never mistake it, the Dr's. Fenton love their children. Would burn heaven and earth for them. March the gates of hell and kick open the doors to heaven. Even file their taxes. Make small talk.
But should they have been TRUSTED with children? Should ANY severally Limnal? I argue... not without a mitigating force. A nanny, a caretaker, Grandma. Uncle Peter, who's getting back on his feet, might have spider powers, who's to say. SOMEBODY.
Because let's be real. If Jazz had not been as likely Limnally inhanced as she was? Unusually mature and nimble? That situation was a powder keg. She kept them from dying from injury or starvation. Kept Danny from her parents dangerous research and devices.
If EITHER of them had died?
Well... ask yourself this: What would happen to Box Ghost, if a Box killed his daughter?
@hdgnj @nerdpoe @stealingyourbones
607 notes · View notes
cyanide-sippy-cup · 9 months ago
Text
People who complain that Bruce Wayne is a bad person cause he "doesn't do enough" are so annoying fr.
"He just dresses up and punches mentally ill people" yeah and sends them to a facility to help them (of which many HAVE gotten better [see Waylon Jones]). A facility that has had the corruption ripped from the roots up purely for the sake of helping his own enemies. No matter how many times they break out and try to kill him, he sends them back to be rehabilitated. He only fights them because they have ice rays and mind control and all that. But even in fighting them, he usually only goes all out on the clown. He canonically tries to be soft with Harley and even temporarily gave her a job.
"He doesn't do anything with his money" bitch?? What do you think Wayne Enterprises does?? What do you think the Jason Todd Foundation is??? Why do you think he's poured his money several times into fixing Arkham Asylum??? Like bro there's literally an entire cult of other billionaires who unironically spend their time and money dismantling Bruce's efforts. He's doing the best he can with what he's got.
"He brings children into his war" Dick, Jason, Barbara, Harper, Stephanie, Duke, and Lance all either did or tried to do vigilante work without Bruce's help. Other characters like Tim and Damian refused to accept a no. He instead gave these kids a support network to do vigilante work safer and more efficiently and have them people to call family.
"The kids die or get hurt" Jason died after being betrayed by his own mother, Stephanie "died" after directly going against his orders, Tim was blown up by drones controlled by Steph's dad, Barbara was paralyzed in an attempt to upset her father, and Lance died after taking the costume and getting shot all without Bruce's knowledge (hence why it's important he takes the kids under his wing).
"He doesn't affect crime rates" in Gotham maybe, but see the Court of Owls mentioned above. He works with the JLA and JSA to take down crime all across the world and galaxy. He founded Batman Inc, a network of Batman ripoffs across the world who keep in touch, use each other's resources, and get backup from each other to fight crime in their corners of the world.
Hell, even "he's a bad father" is just bad writing. He's actually a very caring father, even if he does maybe struggle. He gave Jason his own damn library and he allows Damian to keep a whole army of weird pets (including a literal demon). He took Damian in upon learning about his existence, allowed him to express himself as Robin, sent him to school, taught him morals and compassion, and LITERALLY WENT TO HELL TO RETRIEVE HIS SOUL WHEN HE DIED. He took in Cass despite knowing Shiva would retaliate. He taught her to speak and he encouraged her to learn ballet. He even officially adopted Dick, Jason, and Tim in 3 separate emotional moments. And also bro literally adopted a piece of an alien hivemind (Jarro best Robin).
Like he was raised by Alfred-motherfucking-Pennyworth. There was never a chance he would turn out as corrupt.
210 notes · View notes
quicktimeeventfull · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
@deathnotably hello sorry this took me seven days to write BUT this is in fact perfect bc i think about light and his horse every single day of my life. thank you!!!! <3 <3 <3
Light had not been especially excited about the program. There was something about it that felt juvenile — horses, he felt, were for children. Or at least horses which were supposed to make you feel better about yourself were. 
He wasn’t sure what horse therapy would even entail. He wasn't even convinced that there was anything about him which required fixing. The world is a terrible place, a kingdom of rot. He acknowledges it as such, and that makes him feel bad. Frankly, he thinks it’s other people who have a problem which needs to be resolved. If he wants to spent the rest of his life in bed, not eating or sleeping or speaking to a single person, then that’s his prerogative. It is, he thinks, a perfectly reasonable reaction to the state of the universe. 
Still. When Sayu had insisted, he went. He supposed that if he didn’t have any particular opinion on what happened to him he might as well take into account his sister’s.
And so here he is, standing in the dark of the stables, looking up at a massive black animal. It is inside its stall, but its neck and head arc outwards, watching him. It has big black eyes and breath that rises white in the cold. There are other horses in the stables, but he likes this one best because it had looked at him the second he walked in and followed him with its eyes. 
The rest of the people in the program are side the barn, huddled together by the door. He’d slipped past because he hadn’t wanted to wait with them for the clinician. Some of them had looked incredibly ill. Mentally, not physically; they had seemed miserable. He doesn’t like thinking of himself in the same category as ill people. He's only here for Sayu. It doesn't count.
He holds his hand towards the hose. It’s bigger than he had imagined possible. He’s tall, but the horse has a bulk to it that he hadn’t expected. In photographs they always look so delicate. 
It smells like an animal — acrid, earthy, not entirely unpleasant but alarming nonetheless. 
Its nostrils flare. He pulls back, and then, gathering his courage, places two fingers on its neck.
Nothing happens. 
He is not healed. He does not feel okay. There is only the warm flank of an animal beneath his hand, heavy muscles and more soft fat than he’d expected. It is faintly damp.
The horse flicks its ears and then its tail, then turns its head towards him and then past him. It is so large that the movement pushes his hand with it; he pulls it away, something twisting heavy in his stomach. 
It doesn’t make sense to feel devastated by something that he hadn’t thought would work. He swallows against a heaviness in his throat, then pulls his arms tight across his chest. Clearly the experiment has failed. He might as well turn and leave now.
“They aren’t magic.” 
He spins, then startles.
There’s a man hunched beside him, standing far too close. Light has no idea how he'd gotten there so quick, or without Light's notice.
He’s got long dark hair and eyes as black as the horse’s. He is wearing jeans and a white sweater that looks too thin for the cold. 
The man blinks at him, then goes on. 
“I’m not psychic,” he informs Light, who hadn't been thinking anything of the sort. “It’s just a bit obvious.�� Something must cross Light’s face, because the man pauses, then goes on. “And there isn’t anything wrong with that. Of course. We’re all connected, and so on.”
There’s something vaguely condescending in his tone, but it’s not without compassion. Light can’t decide if he prefers that. If the man had been just a bit ruder, Light could simply have told him to fuck off.
“What are you talking about,” Light says, as flatly as he can manage. 
The man jerks his head towards the horse. “They don’t generate happiness. It’s not a Hallmark movie.” 
"I don’t —" Light isn’t sure what to say about any of this. “I’m going home.” 
“That’s fine. Would you like to feed her first, though? I’m L, by the way. Now we aren't strangers anymore."
Before Light can point out that he’s slightly past horse-feeding age, the man — L —  pulls a ziplock back out of his pocket and holds it out for Light. For one wild moment, Light thinks it’s full of meatballs, but when he reaches for it — more out of confusion than anything else — he discovers that they’re actually little balls of dark sugar oats. “Molasses cookies,” L says. “You can give one to her. Don’t — ah, not like that.” Light has taken one between two fingers, which seems perfectly normal to him. He considers whipping it at L instead. He had been trying to have a quiet moment of despair, and L is not only ruining that by handing him bags full of weird horse treats but also critiquing how he handles said treats. “She can’t see forward very well, so she'll bite off your fingers if you do it that way. Just lay it on your palm and hold it out.” “I don’t want to feed something that’s going to bite off my fingers,” Light says. “She won’t, if you lay it on your palm. Go on. You’ll like it.” The whole world feels so clouded and pointless and stupid that he figures he might as well do this one extra clouded and pointless and stupid thing; these days, that's how he operates most of his life. He drops the cookie onto his palm.
It’s very moist. He wonders how it would taste. He’d skipped breakfast. He holds his hand out for the horse. She leans down, as if this were a routine she was used to and he had been invented just to facilitate it. 
For a second his stomach swoops with terror as he head drops towards him — he can see her teeth, which are dull but massive, and can't help but imagine the thinness of his bones -- but then her nose touches his palm and the world goes suddenly quiet. 
It is the softest thing he’s ever felt, and she is the biggest living thing he has ever been near, and she’s eating right from his palm. 
He looks at her, entranced. It’s sort of disgusting, actually. His palm is getting wet. He can feel her tongue all over it. Still, when she pulls her hand away and flicks her ears he reaches into the ziplock bag and pulls out another. 
He is aware, distantly, of L walking up beside him. When the horse is finished the second, L takes the bag very gently from his hands. Light looks towards him.
He still feels very hollow. Possibly more so than before, really. It's easier when he doesn't subject himself to nice things; they leave an absence in their wake. But still the softness of the horse’s nose lingers. 
“It’s difficult,” L says, very quietly. “I know it is. It’s a lot of work, to do … all of this. To take care of oneself. And it’s not fair that we have to do it, when so many other people don’t. I wish there were some sort of magic cure and I wish they were it.”
“Who are you?” Light says. This, he realizes, is what he should have asked in the first place. “Are you an instructor? Did you follow me in?” L blinks at him. “What? No. I’m a patient. It’s just very cold outside.” Light stares at him, and L stares back. At last L puts the ziplock bag back in his pocket. “Don’t go home,” L says. “Give it a shot. One day. If you don’t absolutely hate it, I’ll give you my cookie recipe and you can make your own for her.” 
“Why do you —“ Care is what he wants to ask, but it feels almost trite. “You don’t know me.” “But I will,” L says, and smiles. It’s bright, almost childish, almost embarrassing to look at. “If you stay.” 
Light breathes out. “Okay,” he says. “Fine. Yeah. Okay. One day.”
60 notes · View notes
buckyalpine · 5 months ago
Text
Here is a list of things that make me mad in no particular order. Angry ranting. Pls ignore this, I'm just screaming into the void. These example apply to very specific situations I've encountered with people who are perfectly capable of doing better.
People who lack common sense. Social awareness. Common courtesy. Saying "Oh my God, I'd never do that" when they've never been even close to said situation but they're now experts on how they'd act while sitting on their pristine Thoroughbred horse, sipping on English tea with their pink so high it may as well be in their nose.
People who say "Well I wouldn't care if it happened to me" or "I'm just being honest" when you point out something they did/said.
When autocorrect/spellcheck decides it cannot for the life of it figure out what you're trying to spell OR it gives you suggestions for every word under the sun except the one you want. All you did was leave out a single letter with the rest of it spelled perfectly and spellcheck decides to go into a coma. So you fix the mistake and the little squiggly red line goes away. Fuck you.
Gnats. WTF is you're problem. I've Googled this shit cause I want to know why tf you can't just fly straight, why do you have to buzz all over the damn place near my head of all places.
Flies. Same thing as above. Why tf can't you just fly straight. WHY NEAR MY EAR. You have the entire world and you decided my room is the place to be? And now we're both miserable because you keep hitting yourself against the window after noticing your grave mistake. I leave the door wide open but you want to keep body slamming the glass.
Giving me life advice on something you know nothing about.
People who don't love their pets. Yeah, you take care of them but you do it as a chore and then complain about it. Those little fur babies deserve it all, give them the best or don't have pets at all.
Holier than thou attitude.
People who laugh at those who are visibly upset and tell them they're being too sensitive.
Allergies. IDK Why tf my body acts surprised as hell every single spring. It's just fucking pollen. Why are you trying to fight it. Do you understand that in your brilliant plan to try and fight the little evaders you actually make me want to end it all because my nose is itching and my eyes are watering and I can't breathe. Food allergies are another level of bullshit. I'll never forget the day this one girl tells me she wished she had allergies? Like it makes you special, mf what??? She was being serious too.
Thin, straight, fine black hair. Can't do anything with it. It doesn't hold hairstyles, doesn't curly, gets heavy as soon as you use any product and 90% of the time it just looks like Snape cosplay. Ask me how I know
Parents who buy their very young children shoes with laces. This is inconvenient for all of us. why tf would you do this when Velcro exists. Your 4 year old doesn't need laces when they have no clue how to even eat cheese with their crackers, mf why did you buy this shoe for them?!
Bananas. Hate them with a burning passion. The smell. The texture. I hate the peel is left out and about like it isn't making the entire room smell. Don't even get me started on banana breath. (Keep in mind this is not me saying I think they're gross. I wish I liked them because they're a super convenient snack and very healthy)
People who lie and say you can't taste the banana in a smoothie. Yes, I can. You always can. You can have 1000lbs of any fruits and that single banana will still stand out.
People who don't understand mental illness/ act ignorantly to those suffering.
Big companies who ask you to donate to stuff. You're going to use this as a tax write off, stfu.
Inflation.
People who laugh at others for not knowing something. Maybe that thing had 0 relevance to their life. Maybe they learned about that because they were taught something else. Either way, how is it funny.
People who laugh at those learning a new language. You're the fucking worst. They are LEARNING. Let them get used to the pronunciation, let them get accustomed to sentence structures, let them make mistakes without being embarrassed. You're the embarrassing one cackling you're damn ass off while they're trying to do something new. You're discouraging them from wanting to continue because you feel the need to be an asshole.
People who make everything a serious debate/conversation.
People who steal. Not out of necessity but just because they can. I'll never forget overhearing this group of kids in my high school bragging and laughing their asses off over how much candy they stole from other kids. They also stole phones. These were not troubled kids mind you, they were doing this for shits and giggles.
Eczema. So fucking itchy, why can't skin just act right. It feels awful, looks awful and just comes and goes as it pleases.
People who clown you for who you find attractive. Why. If I find this person attractive, what in the ever loving flying fuck does it have to do with you. It's just so unnecessarily rude. I don't even get how its funny or why you find it okay to call someone ugly as if this is something they personally have control over.
I'm going to add more to this list.
84 notes · View notes
nyxvamps · 1 year ago
Text
Dionysus Children:
so, im not really basing this off of specifically the books, movie, musical, or tv show. its kinda a mix of all of them and vibes mostly. (personally i really like jason mantzoukas as him tho)
so, it doesn’t matter which dionysus you picture in your head, the child will almost always look like the other parent. but they always have dark curly hair (all different curl types included) and his purple eyes. as well as his resting default/resting faces. which is usually a small amused smirk or like they’re wishing death upon you and your future children.
the amount of passive aggressive sass that can ooze out of these kids is insane. it’s usually the type of sarcasm that you don’t realize was sarcasm until the conversation has already changed.
or it’s very blatant that they want you to know they’re being sarcastic.
they’re the type of people who dress for comfort but when it’s time to dress up, they dress up. they pull out an outfit they’ve been planning for months in advance. on par with the aphrodite cabin.
they’re the type of people (even if they don’t like to party) the party heats up as soon as they show up.
Let’s get into some powers:
they can turn people insane. ya know, mess with their mind and forcibly make different mental illnesses appear and develop. it’s easier if you already have the gene for certain illnesses and disorders so they don’t have to create it from nothing. this power takes a lot of energy if they want it to last more than a few seconds.
they can also ease (but not get rid of) certain illnesses and disorders. this takes even more energy. this is important because, in the past, his children have used these powers for selfish reasons so if they do something stupid, they need to live with the consequences. (dionysus will usually fix whatever his children have done but he lets them suffer in their mistakes first.)
you know how in some horror games there’s a sanity meter and when your sanity goes down your vision starts blurring, the room shakes, your hearing is staticy, you start hallucinating. they can do this. they need initial eye contact but after that, as long as they have eyes on you, they can keep it up.
they are so good at acting. some of it is just acting clueless so others believe them when they say they don’t know what’s happening or they didn’t know a prank was being planned. some of it is that they are able to just, put themselves into another mindset and lie flawlessly.
they have the ability to grow and manipulate plants. mostly plants that can be used in wine so grapes, strawberries, etc. this includes vines and ivy.
thanks for reading, if you have any ideas, feel free to comment.
308 notes · View notes
emeritusemeritus · 1 year ago
Text
Wanna Bewitch you in the moonlight. Pt. 1
[F.W X Reader X G.W ]
Tumblr media
Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Title: Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight.
Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley
Timeline: Predominately set between GOF and OOTP (some canon has been altered to fit the story)
Summary: Both twins like Gryffindor!reader. Reader likes both twins. How will she decide who to chose in the end? Amortentia might be able to help, or not.
Warnings: Smut, mentions of sex, established relationships, threesomes, friends to lovers, all the good stuff. NO Twincest. Mentions of illness, Brief mentions of vomiting.
Tags will be updated along the way.
Tumblr media
Part 1
"Oh, y/n dear, how wonderful to have you with us!" Mrs Weasley said wiping her hands on her apron before she threw her arms around you, embracing you in a warm and maternal manner as you stepped inside the Burrow.
"Mrs Weasley, thank you so much for having me," you smiled, wrapping your arms around her, smiling at the comforting feel and smell that encapsulated the entire Burrow and each Weasley inside.
"Oh Mrs Weasley," she laughed pulling apart, "how many times do I have to say, call me Molly!"
"Maybe just once more," you joked, smiling wide as she huffed out a laugh, rubbing your shoulder.
"We're back too you know," Fred said from behind you, leaning on the doorframe with George fixed to his side. She hurried over smiling, pausing briefly to hit Fred's shoulder at his tone, before wrapping her arms around both the boys at the same time. It was a sight to behold, seeing little Molly Weasley trying to reach up to give her two 6ft 3 sons a hug but it was completely heartwarming, seeing their smiles.
"Oh how lovely to have my boys back," she smiles, standing beside them. The entire scene was entirely endearing, particularly the hint of a blush that spread almost in perfect sync upon the twins' cheeks.
"Is Ginny not with you?" She suddenly asks, realising that two of her expected children were not present.
"No they're stopping by Hermione's to get some things before they come home," George replies absently, wandering over to the counter where a fresh batch of scones caught his attention, sat cooling on a wire rack. He reached for one and was immediately intercepted by Molly, earning a swift slap to his hand in a silent warning.
"Right, y/n dear," she says, turning to you with a smile. "I wasn't sure what the sleeping arrangements would be for you all so you can either share Ginny's room with her and Hermione or," Molly began to say, trying to do the mental arithmetic of sleeping arrangements until she was interrupted by George.
"She can stay with us mum, we'll move our beds together and pop up the old cot from Charlie's room," he says, sounding like he had already planned it out in great detail.
"Oh, yes I suppose that would work," she says, completely unaware of the relationship blooming between the three of you. You knew she'd never agree to you sleeping with either of the twins alone, but having the other one in the room seemed to ease her mind that nothing untoward would happen.
"You aren't making her sleep in that old thing!" She suddenly says, horrified at the thought of her guest having to sleep on the death contraption that had been in their family for decades.
"No mum, she can have my bed, I'll sleep on it," Fred says, moving forward to place his hand on your shoulder, doing his best to act innocent, though you could see straight through it.
"Wonderful," Molly says, clapping her hands together as she moves away and busies herself in the kitchen again. She shouts to the boys to help you with your bags, to which they both reply in perfect synchronisation that they already were.
They usher you up the stairs, each twin carrying one of your bags as you make your way to their bedroom. It's exactly as you remember, except it looks like it's been cleaned recently, no doubt by Molly.
"You're not really sleeping on the cot are you?" You ask, turning to Fred. He gives you a look of bewilderment before snorting out a laugh, reaching out for your hand to pull you into his chest, his right arm securing you to his body as it wraps around your waist.
"Not for a single second," he smirks, reaching up to play with a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your ear.
"But we are pushing the beds together," George says from behind you, moving closer to you both.
"And you are going to sleep right in the middle, between both of your handsome," Fred adds.
"Charming," George.
"Well endowed..."
"Boyfriends," they both say, sandwiching you between their bodies. You couldn't help but smile at their antics, realising that they had clearly had this planned for quite some time.
"So I get to sleep on the divide of the beds and fall between in the middle of the night? How romantic," you joked, reaching up to play with the collar of Fred's jacket.
"Ahh we've thought of that too," George says from behind you, reading down to place a kiss to the side of your neck.
Suddenly, both twins pull away and start organising the bedroom. Fred pulls away the small cabinet between the beds and places it next to you near the door, winking at you as he moves back to help George move the beds. They drag Fred's bed over from the right towards George's on the left and create one large bed in the middle of the room. George rushes off to get the cot from Charlie's room and unfolds it for decorative purposes in the space left behind where Fred's bed used to be.
Fred suddenly pulls back the sheets from both beds and then pulls out his wand and casts a charm you'd never heard of. The bed is immediately fixed together through magic, causing you to raise your eyebrows in amazement. He throws the covers haphazardly over the beds before doing the same to the sheets, making it one large duvet. He turns his head to you, seeing you look on in amazement and shoots a cocky smirk towards you.
"Your boyfriend's good right?" He smirks, causing you to roll your eyes slightly. George then moves the cabinet beside you towards the back of the room, sliding it under the space of the desk, kicking the little waste paper bin to the side.
"Fit for a Queen," George smiles, gesturing towards the large bed.
"Or for a fit Queen," Fred quips, gesturing towards you. "Crash test?"
You huff out a laugh at the terrible pun and move to throw yourself down onto the newly extended bed, instantly surprised by the lack of divide between the two and the fact that it was actually quite sturdy.
"You know we could test it out in different ways," George says smirking as he looks at you, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You look up at him with a sultry look, liking the idea very much, before you turn to look at Fred with the same pointed look.
"Boys! Y/n! The others are here and lunch is ready!" Molly's voice radiates surprisingly well up the stairs of the burrow, effectively ending your next moves and the boys immediately huff and grunt in frustration. You offer them a sad smile before reaching your hand out to George for him to pull you up. He instantly reaches out for your hand in his large one and pulls you up towards him effortlessly.
"Later?" You ask with a small smile, reaching up and pouting so that he'd kiss you. His eyes light up just slightly as he silently nods enthusiastically before reaching down to give you a sweet kiss. You then turn to Fred who is not so patiently waiting his turn before he drags you out of his brothers arms and into his own. He also reaches down to give you a sweet kiss, though his is much more loaded than George's, his tongue licking along your bottom lip as he fights to deepen the kiss. You pull away with a chuckle, placing your hand on his chest. "Down boy," you joke and he grins down at you.
"Not me you need to be telling princess," he cheekily grins, wiggling his eyebrows and poignantly flicking his eyes down to his groin, which seems excited to say the least. You bite your lip and drag your hand down his chest towards his excited member, placing your hand gently over the bulge in his trousers. You flick your eyes up to his face as he stands with wide eyes and his lips parted in a little 'o' shape, following your movements very carefully.
"Down boy," you whisper, teasing as you suddenly pull your hands away and move to walk out of the bedroom door. You can hear George's laughter as you descend the stairs and then a little commotion and 'ow' from George, no doubt caused by Fred.
You greet Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny in the kitchen, followed by George only a minute later and then by Fred five minutes after that. You don't miss the little mock glare he shoots you as he takes a seat at the table, one twin either side of you. All you can do is give him a little innocent, doe-eyed smile before you focus your attention on the array of food that Molly had prepared.
"So, y/n, what are your plans whilst you're here?" Ginny asks you from across the table, pausing at the end to frown at Ron who had shovelled as much food as possible into his mouth and then asked, with a mouthful of food, for Harry to pass the bread rolls.
"I'm not really sure," you smiled with a little shrug, not really considering what was on the agenda.
"She's busy, whatever you've got planned," Fred says bluntly as he pokes at his food, already disliking the idea of you spending time with anyone else whilst you were away from school. You immediately elbow him roughly in the shoulder, earning a laugh from George who watches on silently.
"Never too busy for you Gin," you said, winking at her with a smile. She smiled back and began talking about you girls having a sleepover one night, which did sound fun. Fred muttered something under his breath but you gave him a swift kick to the shin under the table which George snickered at, keeping quiet himself as to not also feel your wrath.
As soon as Fred and George had finished eating they all but dragged you away from the table and up to their bedroom, pausing only briefly for you to shout out your thanks to Molly for a wonderful lunch.
As soon as you were back in their room, you threw yourself down onto the bed, rolling to lie on your stomach as you watched them pull out their trunk of tricks. You'd already agreed earlier on that morning on the train home that you would help them with their new idea for their business, some sort of new confectionary, no doubt with a sinister twist.
From your conversation and actions before lunch, you'd assumed the boys had dragged you upstairs for another reason entirely, but it seemed that their current developments had overshadowed their needs. You had to hold back a laugh at the pair, realising that they were the only two men you knew that would focus on their pranks over sex with their girlfriend.
They had assured you not long after that they had the afternoon and evening all planned out and they would only spend a little time doing this before you could do something more exciting, something you'd really enjoy.
"So they're like puking pastilles but not?" You asked from your position on the bed, bent legs swinging behind you as you watched them concentrate on their project. Fred simply nodded, eyes never once leaving the prototype, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he tried to perfect the recipe.
"Kind of, angel," George explained, using his nickname for you, flicking his eyes up to yours as he spoke, "but they don't make the eater sick, just make them turn pale and sickly looking."
"Ahh make them turn into a Weasley then," you joked. George immediately threw a piece of whatever he had in his hand at you in retaliation and Fred simply snorted, still focusing on the task at hand.
It was the most you'd spoken since they began tinkering, their full attention and focus on their creation. It wasn't exactly the day you had in mind and you were quite frankly thoroughly bored, something you very rarely were in the presence of the Weasley twins. You couldn't blame them, they were in the development stage of their new product, which meant perfecting the recipe and then the antidote which took time and patience.
"Are you adding them to the skiving snack boxes?" You asked after a few more moments of silence, trying to occupy yourself as you sat bored in their room.
"No, they're more like an additional add on," George explained, reaching up to grab something beside you on the bed, briefly pausing to touch your leg as he leaned beside you.
"Ah a savvy business move," you replied cheekily.
When it fell silent again, you rolled over onto your back and stared up at the disjointed ceiling, watching how the wooden beams interlocked at awkward angles and looking at all the various memorabilia and stuff that littered the walls of their room. You briefly considered going to visit Ginny and the others before your eyes started to close on their own accord.
———————————
"Bugger bugger bugger!"
You frowned at the sudden burst of noise, your eyes struggling to open and then focus as you realised you'd fallen asleep on the bed. You sat up, squinting at the light from the windows around you and watched in confusion as George paced around the room in a tizzy.
"George?" You asked weakly, your voice not quite working yet. He turned around with such a speed it was almost alarming. His face looked panicked and nervous and you immediately sat further up in concern, your sleepy haze fading rapidly as worry took over you. "What's wrong? What happened?"
"Fred, I told him not to but you know what he's like when he gets something in his head and he wouldn't listen," George babbles, messing with his hair as he paces the room.
"Fred? What's wrong with Fred?" You asked, trying to figure out what George was saying.
"He ate the bloody thing!" He says, throwing himself down onto the rickety metal cot in the corner of the room. It suddenly all made sense to you and a lingering unease settled in your stomach as you thought about the dangers.
"Where is he?" You asked quickly, worried that he wasn't in the room.
"Toilet," George mumbles, running his hand through his hair again.
You immediately leapt off the bed and ran out into the corridor, trying to be quiet as to not alert anyone else as you quickly scaled the wooden staircase that lead up to the next level of the burrow where the toilet was.
You quietly knocked on the door, "Freddie?"
You heard a brief, slow shuffle on the other side of the door and the door creaked open to reveal Fred who looked bloody awful.
"Bloody hell," you said without thinking, looking upon the appearance of your boyfriend. He quickly pulled you into the bathroom and closed the door behind you both. You scrunched your nose at the vague smell of sick that hung in the air but you quickly got past it, moving to stand in front of Fred.
He looked ghostly pale and a little green in his undertone, sweat forming like droplets on his forehead where he had pushed back his hair. His eyes looked sunken and dull, no longer twinkling like usual and his under eyes were almost purple looking. You tried not to react, already feeling bad about your subconscious outburst at seeing him and tried to wipe away a few beads of sweat off his brow. To your surprise, they wouldn't actually wipe off and had become an effect of the sinister sweets they'd created. "How you feeling Freddie?" You asked, trying to keep your voice even.
"At least we know they work, a little too well," he says, deflecting the question. He suddenly lurches away from you and shuffles quickly to the toilet as he heaves whilst clutching his stomach, though nothing comes up. "Sorry," he cringes in embarrassment at you seeing that, "thought I'd got through the worst of that."
"How long does is take for the antidote to kick in?" You asked, concerned about the lasting effects, not knowing exactly how long ago he'd eaten it. He didn't verbally reply but instead gave you a little uncomfortable smile, telling you everything you needed to know.
"Fred Weasley!" You whisper yelled, striking him in the shoulder as you realised he hadn't created the antidote yet. "You frigging idiot!" You hit him again and he just stood there and took it, though he did seem to lose a little of his balance.
"It was more to test out the taste," he said quietly, as if it was an excuse for eating the contraption. "Which definitely still needs work by the way, bloody awful aftertaste, too much caramel." You shot him a look of utter bewilderment as he heaved again, frustration building in you as he didn't take it seriously at all, despite looking like a walking corpse and heaving all over the place.
"Come on, you need to lie down," you said, extending your hand to his to lead him back to his bedroom. You lead him down the stairs and into his and George's room, carefully avoiding anyone else in the house.
"Bloody hell," George said, looking up from his hands, not moving an inch since you'd left, as his brother entered the room, seeing him look absolutely awful.
"At least we know it works," Fred says with the hint of a smirk, though his eyes still looked sad and glimmer-less.
"Bed. Now." You ordered, annoyed at his joking especially at a time like this. Surprisingly, Fred complied without any qualms and threw himself down onto the bed, his eyes closing in relief as he lay there. You tipped out a few loose crumbled papers from the waste bin next to the desk and placed it beside the bed incase he needed it.
"George, can you get him some water please?" You asked, turning your attention back to the notes they'd made on the recipes, trying to figure out if any of the ingredients had a reverser you could use to cancel out the effects.
Fred heaved again and you tensed, turning to offer him some help, only to see him half flinging out of bed to lean over to the bin. You stood and reached out for the bin and placed it into his arms, where he kept it secured and never out of reach.
"What do you mean he's sick? Fred, er, George move out the way!" You heard Molly's voice getting louder and louder, matching the influx of panicked footsteps that seemed to be running up the stairs. She immediately burst through the room and made an ungodly sound as looked upon her son, seeing his frighteningly pale complexion and overall malaise as he clutched his bin, looking helpless.
"Oh my boy," she said, running over to him. She immediately put the back of her hand towards his head and frowned at feeling a lack of temperature.
"That's odd," she mutters. "Are you two okay?" She asks, turning to you and George who are standing off to the side, both a little scared of her reaction and Fred's symptoms.
"Yeah mum."
"Yes Molly," you both replied at the same time, trying to sound completely sincere.
"Did he eat anything on the train?" She asks, trying to smooth his hair down in the front to keep it away from his face. You could tell he tried his hardest to hold back the impending heave but he couldn't hold it any longer and dry heaved once again into the waiting bin.
"Cauldron cake," you said, thinking quickly, "he did eat a cauldron cake on the train, but we shared some fizzing whizbees, didn't we George?" You looked at George, imploring him with your eyes to go along with it.
"Yeah," George said suddenly nodding as he looked at you before turning to his mum, "maybe the cake was bad?"
Molly mumbled something in frustration as she looked at Fred before zooming out the door, muttering something about her apothecary kit which might be of use.
"Georgie," Fred says quietly as he tries to get his brother's attention. George moves closer to Fred and leans down so that Fred can whisper in his ear. You frown, watching them secretly converse, wondering what they are saying.
Molly returns not a moment later, armed with an array of various potions and elixirs which could hopefully cure Fred.
The truth was, the only thing that was able to cure their inventions quickly were the antidotes, otherwise the symptoms would stick around for roughly 24 hours at most, the effectiveness of the enchanted foods rapidly decreasing once the 12 hour mark passed with the entire malady vanishing after 24 hours. You and George both knew that Fred would be okay tomorrow but it wouldn't hurt for him to at least take some of the potions to ease his queasiness.
"Here eat this, slowly, that's right," Molly says, thrusting some form of wafer towards Fred. He pulled a disgusted face as he ate it but to his credit he did manage to consume it without gagging and keep it down. "Dehydrated ginger root, it should help with the nausea," she explained to no one in particular as she faffed about in the little case, searching for a specific bottle. She eventually gave up and pulled out her wand, mumbling accio to bring the thing she needed to the front.
"Here, drink this, it's dandelion root and burdock oil, it will help with your complexion and ease your tummy," she said to Fred, smoothing back his hair again as another wave of gagging ran through him.
He took slow sips of the potion and raised his eyebrows at the taste, clearly not expecting it to be so tasty.
"We have that at home," you said, not really sure of why you said it but it was funny to see the wizard if equivalent to a muggle drink.
"Really?" Molly asks, turning to you with a surprised look on her face.
"Yeah but it's just a fizzy drink, not really medicinal anymore," you explained with a laugh, feeling a little silly about your random tangent.
"We need to get some," Fred mumbled, drinking down the rest of the potion enthusiastically, causing Molly to loudly warn him to take it steady.
"We could nip into the village and get some for you?" You turn to George, asking him with your eyes if he'd join you, "I know where they sell it." George nodded with a little shrug. You then turned back to look at Fred and Molly who looked at you in surprise, "if it would make you feel better." Fred nodded enthusiastically with a little smile, already seeing a little more colour coming to his face.
"Oh, how lovely, what a lovely gesture," Molly said with a warm smile. "You can take your father's car, as long as you are safe," she said, fixing George with a look of warning.
"How little you think of me," George said sarcastically.
"Or how well she knows you," you snorted, reaching behind him to search for a sweater in your trunk.
"I'll go get the keys," Molly says, taking her apothecary case with her as she moves out of the room.
"Fuck," you mumbled, still searching for a sweater but not finding any.
"What's wrong?" George asks, moving to stand behind you.
"I can't find my sweater," you mumbled again, trying to dig through your belongings but coming up empty handed.
"We've got plenty, borrow one of ours," George says casually, walking straight over to the drawers on the left side of the room and pulling out a thick knitted cardigan that you'd remembered the both of them wearing to the quidditch World Cup. "This okay?" He asks, extending it towards you.
"It's perfect, thank you," you smile, reaching for it and slipping it around yourself, feeling the warmth and coziness of it already, the wonderfully comforting scent of the twins surrounding you. You couldn't help but raise the fabric of the sleeve up to your nose for a closer smell, your eyes closing as you smiled at the scent. You could tell this one was Fred's from the unmistakable but subtle marshmallow sweetness of his natural scent which George didn't have.
When you looked up, the boys were both watching you with smirks on their faces, clearly seeing everything you'd done. You blushed under their intense gazes and turned away, grabbing a few things you'd need and placing them into the little bag you'd brought, making sure you had your little coin purse of muggle money.
"You ready?" You asked George, who was stood next to Fred quietly talking. He turned and nodded, mumbling out 'nearly' and walked over to the little wardrobe hidden in a nook in the corner before pulling out a blue patterned shirt. He slipped off the polo shirt he'd been wearing and you couldn't help but watch as he stood shirtless, slipping into his blue shirt and slowly buttoning it up. You couldn't take your eyes away from him, admiring his naked torso and staring at the small patch of hair on his chest and the beautiful trail that started just below his naval and stretched downwards. He looked at you, amused with his eyebrow raised as he caught you looking and for the second time in minutes you couldn't help but blush. "Ready," he said with a firm nod, appearing by your side.
"Do you want anything else?" You asked, turning to Fred but found him sleeping, clearly exhausted by his sickness or one of Molly's potions had knocked him out cold. George reached for your waist and smiled as he guided you out the door, slowly closing the wooden door as to not wake his brother as you both went on your little adventure.
Tumblr media
821 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
[I was] a mentally ill teenager who had been groomed and preyed upon and sexually exploited online to the point of authorities getting involved.
I spiralled into a hatred of myself and my body, and was told that it was just because I was a boy born in the wrong body, and that this would fix me.
I was affirmed down a path where I wasn't given any other choice as to what would help me. The very first medical intervention I ever had was a double mastectomy at 16. And then a few months later, I was put on testosterone.
I'm now 21, and I will live with the impacts of that so-called care for the rest of my life. In the past 4 or 5 months, I have watched as my body has fallen apart in front of me. My joints constantly hurting, my vocal chords aching, watching as parts of me atrophy away before my very eyes.
And yet, at 16, they looked me in the eyes and they told me this was care. They told me it would save me.
Despite the fact I was never suicidal, my parents were baited with the idea of "would you rather have a dead daughter or a living son?" Bullied into going along with it, their biggest crime being trusting those who they thought took an oath to "do no harm."
It's not about "hate," detransitioning, it never has been. It's about keeping kids whole. I've worked with children, I've seen them explore the world, and I've seen that magic that they have. And doing something like transitioning them takes that away.
How can you look me in the eyes and tell me that a child can consent to being chained to an experimental medical industry before they're even old enough to drive, or understand the impacts of what that means in the first place?
Kids deserve to be kids. They deserve to get to explore the world as a safe and loving place.
==
Tumblr media
It's disturbing that the position "don't mutilate kids" requires bravery.
Today is a great day to think of what you'll say when you're asked why you went along with it.
817 notes · View notes
antimony-medusa · 1 year ago
Text
"There's just something about that guy that means I don't trust him"
Okay so, Phil has got the wrong read of Sunny. I'm gonna start off with that. He thinks they're a confident unconcerned material girl who is comfortable in the fact that their dad loves them, and potentially he thinks that they're a bit older than they are? Whereas people who have been able to see her one-on-one with Tubbo know that she's quite a bit more shy and insecure and young than she puts on! He's been taken in by the facade they're putting on, and I think that's part of why he is making jokes and comments that don't hit well. To understate how yesterday went. I think he botched the interaction with Sunny in the musuem and I hope someone tells him that, so he can apologize and fix that. And to be clear, as a phil viewer, this does interesting character work with Sunny as a sensitive child and I'm in favour of Sunnymin pursuing this line of lore. I'm staring with my little cube guy watching googles looking for the result when Phil realizes he scared a child, with great interest.
Because when you look at the musum one in context, my read is that was phil pivoting badly from an out of lore discussion into "oh hey I can explain something to sunny, who is confident and centred and knows her dad adores her" and then jokingly tried to explain the tallulah experience, and then we know from Sunny signs later that that went over like a ton of bricks. Mistake. However, when we're discussing it, I think it's fair to not have that understanding of the lore though, and to take a more pointed, villainous read of the lore! Go for it with discussing phil as cold and brusque to people who aren't his family, discuss Sunny feeling all alone in the musuem, fill your boots.
But guys, when you're discussing this as meta, I am seeing a lot of tags that are really really eager to paint Phil entirely and unequivocally as a villain and specifically cruel to children and cruel within the family, and there's an element to that that concerns me.
Phil, the cc, the guy, acts working class. He has an accent from a particular part of england that is traditionally working class, but he also has storytelling cadences and humour styles and attitudes towards challenges that are very familiar if you are from a working class or lower income community. I'm from an entirely different continuent, but the area I'm from is the sort of area that people make jokes about, and the whole way Phil acts as a CC is very familiar to me. (Note: even when he's talking about travel or stuff, he still has the "worked retail for a decade" mentality and pays attention to the staff and stuff and what they're doing, check out the brazil storytelling vod.)
And Phil's cubito, when he's not deliberately making a character like osmp crowfather, tends to have the mannerisms of someone who is working class. Even if you're not from a lower income area, I think most people can clock this, subconciously if nothing else. He swears a lot! He banters and roasts his friends and family but would absolutely do anything for them. He's informal in a very specific way.
Which is why when people pivot immediately into "why is he threatening and bullying children again" and "his wicked is showing", and "oh he's a evil stepfather/cruel stepmother" and "can we kill the child abusers now" I go Oh No.
Working class mannerisms are already stereotyped as especially prone to domestic abuse, among other ills. If you are going "oh something about him just always seemed like he would be cruel to children" maybe— push back on that one?
In the same way that during the election I was going "that may not be the play" about americans who didn't know what it was but something about Forever was just so angry and agressive (and they were talking from a perspective that viewed forever as a person of colour, regardless of how he's perceived at home), you might be talking from a perspective that encourages you to interpret Phil's behaviour with children as especially suspect. Potentially. Consider it.
And again, Phil biffed it in the musuem. That was a misstep that had me (autistic) going "oh no I see how you got there but you can all but see the sims negative relationship marker thing pop up". But I'd ask you at least to consider that it wasn't intentional cruelty, and that people can make social missteps before you jump immediately to interpreting their actions in the worst light possible.
171 notes · View notes
wonkyplate · 9 months ago
Text
how could you not be obsessed with the soong's when this whole family are designed to make each other depressed
a brilliant man who fathers androids in his own likeness, more concerned with the continuation of his legacy and research than with showing love to his own children
a kind woman with so much love to give but her husband and children can't love her back in the same way (except maybe lore, but we know that at some point she came to fear him and he was deactivated)
[spoiler] the eldest android, one of noonien's first prototypes, who lacks the positronic net his younger brothers are built with. i can only assume he was treated differently by his father for the "failure" he built him with
the middle child who is designed with all the faculties of someone who can experience the best and worst of humanity and is punished for becoming wayward as a result, with little to no guidance or help ("you could have fixed me!")
the youngest android who is perfectly suspended behind the window of humanity and spends his life trailing after it, constantly in search of fitting in when he's aware it may never happen. if this father truly loved any of them, data was the most loved - which begs the question: was noonien so afraid of showing love that he required a son who couldn't know the difference?
and then you've got:
data not remembering anything about his family (wiped clean) but he has all the memories of the colonists who feared him ???
[spoiler] juliana's memories and humanity being unknowingly transferred into an android because her husband couldn't bear the thought of losing her, something which data learns after he meets her decades after the memory-wipe, but noonien still ends up losing her when she leaves years later and remarries
[spoiler] the conflict of morality when choosing whether to tell your mother she is now an android because you're desperate to have some sort of a family to share your life with, and not telling her to save her happiness !!!!!!!!!!!
data being left behind out in the cold on omicron theta while the crystalline entity destroyed the colony and all organic life on the planet, because juliana was afraid that he would turn out like lore and she couldn't bear the thought of damning another son to a life of misery
lore and data clearly feeling some sort of sibling connection but neither of them being well equipped to be the perfect brother. lore is on a crusade for a satisfaction that he'll never achieve without his family's help and data is too rigid to fully understand the intricacies. there have been too many betrayals and too much hurt for data to let lore in willingly (+ vise versa but the Mentally Ill edition)
b-4 being entirely too good for this world. he deserved so much more
this family is one of the most fucked up things about star trek. roddenberry didn't want to introduce conflict into the utopian series and so while it's a beautiful vision to aspire to, it's got this naïve and unfulfilled feel to it. people and stories thrive on conflict & solution, so the writers must have an exceptionally difficult time keeping things interesting for us. tng pulled it out of the bag with the soong tragedies
126 notes · View notes
murderenjoyer · 20 days ago
Text
I'm about to take a silly haha meme too god damn seriously
Tumblr media
People who try to "fix" Shane, marry him, and then divorce him because his area is messy and he still likes alcohol and spends full days in bed are ableist. No hyperbole.
"What the fuck do you mean love didn't cure your mental illness? You're in therapy now why aren't you neurotypical yet? You decided to work on your alcoholism why do you not loathe beer completely? What a waste of my time. There's no way I'm sticking with a loser like you, fuck off, get out of my house."
LOVE DOES NOT CURE MENTAL ILLNESS. NO AMOUNT OF LOVE WILL REMOVE CLINICAL DEPRESSION. If it did, people in loving relationships wouldn't kill themselves. People with spouses and children wouldn't kill themselves. People with very close and supportive friends wouldn't kill themselves.
PEOPLE WHO LOVE AND ARE LOVED KILL THEMSELVES ALL THE TIME. LOVE DOES NOT REWIRE THE BRAIN. LOVE DOES NOT FIX CHEMICAL IMBALANCES. CLINICAL DEPRESSION IS A LIFE-LONG ILLNESS IT IS NOT CURED BY SEX OR KISSES OR CUDDLES OR A WEDDING OR BECOMING A PARENT.
You do not have the special magical pussy/cock that will totally rewrite the way a mentally ill person's mind works sorry to break the news to you.
Therapy is not a magical building you walk into crazy and walk out of sane. Therapy cannot totally remove mental illness. The purpose of therapy is not to shoot the patient with a Normalcy Beam and make them sane. That. Is. Not. How. Therapy. Works.
Addiction is a life-long affliction. Once an addict, always an addict. Shane will always be an alcoholic. Forever. For the rest of his life. Working toward sobriety is not the same for everyone. Some people quit cold turkey. Some people traper off. Some people never actually stop using alcohol completely, they just lower their usage to a healthier, manageable level. Just because Shane is working on his addiction, that does not mean the addiction has vanished. He will always have periods of cravings. He will always hold positive memories of his time using, but he chooses every day to not go back to that place because it was harmful to him and the people around him.
If his spouse comes home and hands him a beer, of course he's going to like it. The structure of his brain has been altered by his addiction to make him very much like alcohol. Of course if his spouse gives him a beer, suggesting they're okay with him drinking, suggesting they want him to enjoy something he is addicted to and as such obviously craves, OF COURSE HE IS GOING TO LOVE THE GIFT.
Getting into a relationship with a mentally ill person with the goal of "fixing" them is absolutely vile. You chose him as a project, not as a person. You chose him to stroke your own ego about how awesome and perfect dating you is, not because you cared about him. You chose him because you liked a fictional idealized fantasy of him, not because you saw him as he truly is. You chose him put of pity, not love. Trying to make yourself out to be the magical protagonist who is so special so perfect that you can fuck him sane is so fucking fetishizing and infantalizing.
And then, when you realize your hero complex didn't play out the way you wanted it to, when you realize that being with someone who is mentally sick takes actual work and patience, you abandon him like trash. You call him a disgusting slob who isn't worth your time.
After he trusted you. He opened up to you about feelings that are so personal, so painful, so vulnerable. He truly believes you love and accept him.
And you throw him out on his ass. You tell all your friends he's a slovenly loser. You treat him like trash. The symptoms of his illness become a running joke amongst your friends. You callously reject a person you never respected, never saw as a true and whole person, someone you considered a diy project that you could tackle at your leisure and toss aside when the end result wasn't exactly what you wanted.
I am tired of abandoning Shane for his illness, an illness he's working on but will always suffer, being thrown around as a meme.
It's funny that you took advantage of a mentally ill man? It's funny that he's still suffering? It's funny that the person he truly believed loved and accepted him despite his flaws sneered at him, called him a slob, called him a loser, called him too broken to love, and ejected them from their life without a care in the world?
Thats funny haha hilarious?
I am sick of the aggressive ableism in this fandom around Shane. I am so fucking tired of this fandom pointing and laughing at him as a worthless piece of shit whose very real attempts to improve being pathetic and never enough.
What message do you think you're giving to mentally ill people in the fandom? Telling them that no level of effort is enough to make them worthy of love unless they are immediately perfect and cured and sane in every single way. Telling addicts that if they don't rewire their brain to make themselves loathe their substance, if they have a relapse, they're lying about their journey to sobriety. Telling sick people that their only worth lies in how well they can feed into someone's white knight savior fantasy.
It isn't funny, it isn't cute. It's cruel. It's fetishizing. It's cut and dry ableism.
Stop doing this shit. Stop supporting shit like this. Stop commenting with 800 laughing emojis when someone calls Shane a lost cause.
27 notes · View notes