#she only helped that family because she wanted to repress the memories of her parents dying

[bawuoooooom]

hey umm friendly reminder if you think llorumi is an "enemies to lovers" trope

harumi abused, used and manipulated lloyd, also tried killing him and his mother, brought back his evil father and destroyed ninjago city and in the process makes hundreds of other children orphans just like her, and all because lloyd didnt save her when the great devourer attack happened even though he was fucking like 7 and didnt even know who the fuck harumi was. she is also insane and blames lloyd for the death of her parents whilst in crystallized she works with the very person who RELEASED the monster that KILLED her parents. and also gave lloyd major trust issues

llorumi is straight up ass. no matter what the fuck you say, it wont change that fact.

you can TRY and ""redeem"" harumi but she will never be able to make up for the trauma she caused lloyd

if you ship llorumi, whether or not you like it lloyd is being indirectly or directly manipulated by harumi and you cant change that.

llorumi is not "enemies to lovers." its oppressor x victim.

ALSO THEY ARE LITERALLY SIBLINGS HELLO GARMADON ADOPTED HARUMI IN ONE OF THE EPISODES

dni if you like llorumi oh my fucking god 💀…

something that is really bizarre to me is how people actually LIKE. llorumi. like how like how LIKE HOW????

[tpwkwriter]

u r my fave writter everrrr! And I wanted to recommend H helping the reader with anxiety, depression, an eating disorder and like a traumatic childhood. THANK YOUUUUU

My comfort.

First of all thank you so, so much Not only for your request but lovely words! 🥰

And wowser A traumatised y/n! 🫢but luckily H is there hey!

*Warnings* mentions of depression, anxiety, trauma,drug use!, body dysmorphia, struggles with eating and various mental health issues! My dms are open always! 🤎

Love your beautiful selfs! 🫶🏼

— — — — —

Ever since a young age y/n had been through various battles.

Her childhood was far from mundane, when she was about 9 her parents took to several different substances and would happily leave y/n and her sister alone for many hours through the day.

When the girl hit her early teens she was aware of what was going on and that realisation hit her like a ton of bricks, knowing her parents would rather be out doing his knows what, with god knows who then actually looking after her and her sister

When it was time for secondary school, y/n would still admit that this was the worst time for her. 7 hours of constant work to come home and play mother. The constant comparisons to her and her classmates drove her mad, the reminder of exams and work it was all a bit much.

When she hit 17 she went to college and took part in a weekend job to earn some money on the side. Of course her parents eyes lit up once they heard money was being made.

On y/n’s sisters 12th birthday y/n was finally able to buy her gifts and treat the young girl. However this didn’t go down with the rest of the family, y/n recalls this memory very clearly even though she’s been trying to repress it for years.

The argument they had that evening was booming, her father threw anything he could get his hands on, her mother threw every insult and shaming word there was, all of this because she wouldn’t lend them money?

The night quickly escalated when an empty vase was threw at y/n leaving a cut on her wrist that scarred and she still sees to this day.

From that night y/n picked up longer shifts, and more hours just for a bit more money and financial stability.

By her 18th birthday she could afford her first car, wasn’t anything grand but the freedom it allowed her was amazing, she finally felt proud of how she’s done this all herself, she finally felt pride in herself and not self hatred.

Fast forward to age 25 and her life was something she wasn’t expecting.

She was with one of the most recognisable faces, who was able to show her parts of the world she never thought she could, he gave her the biggest comfort and safe feeling that she ever so lacked.

Her sister was currently 21 living with her own boyfriend and was equally as happy, and both of them was as close as ever.

Y/n loved Harry with everything in her, and wanted no chance or risk that he would walk out on her. Y/n adamantly worked on her figure everyday, she started off her morning in the gym, went for a run at-least once a week, this was good n all but she slowly started slipping meals and going past them.

It was currently nearing 6pm and H had just come back from the studio and long day.

“Alright love?” He asks putting a hand on her waist and kissing her cheek as she was finalising dinner.

“Oh my god H” she giggled

“Y’made me jump! Didn’t hear y’come in” she smiled

“Was m’plan” he smirked kissing her again.

“How was y’day” he ask, reaching the top cupboard for too glasses knowing she wouldn’t be able to reach them.

“Was okay, got Tomorrow off so no excuse to get rid of me” she smiled.

“You?” She asked

“S’okay busy, happy to have our day tomorrow”

Dinner was finalised, and the both sat at the table speaking through there day to each other.

“Y’been to the gym today?” He asked

“Yeah” she answered.

“Did 2 hours in there today!!” She said proudly.

“M’proud of you darling, make sure we’re not overworking ourselves right?” He asks slipping her a look that was all too familiar.

“M’not, I just wanna stay, like this I guess?” She smiles.

“What do you mean baby? Y’gorgeous” he states.

“Have you eaten today?” He asks stopping in his tracks to watch her.

“Um” she wonders.

“I mean, m’eating right now, but I just wasn’t hungry really” she claims, taking another spoonful of her food to her mouth.

“Y/nnnnn” he playfully drags

“I promise I���ll eat more tomorrow, just, wasn’t hungry today!” She smiles.

“Y’did 2 hours in the gym and didn’t eat anything after?” He asks tone getting deeper and eyebrows raising.

“I really I didn’t mean to, I was running errands after and I forgot” she says standing up from her seat collecting the plates from them both.

H joins her in kitchen and helps her tidy up.

“Thanks H” she said.

“N’worries, thanks for dinner love” he says kissing her temple swiftly.

“Gonna get dressed, and then we can watch one of your bloody documentaries?” He smiles

“Y’know it H” she blushes.

They reluctantly parted, y/n found herself bundled up on the couch with a fluffy blanket awaiting her loves return, she found herself scrolling mindlessly on instagram.

When your current boyfriend has exes in the like of Kendall Jenner, cara delavine and Camille Rowe it’s often hard not to feel worse compared to them, curiosity took y/n over and she clicked on Camille’s instagram page, she was greeted with selfies, pictures of events she’s been too, her with her friends and various other things, her beautiful eyes, her shiny long hair, her model figure, she was straight out of a magazine.

Suddenly all of y/n’s work felt pointless, no matter what she would always be compared to these fashionable girls, that familiarity hits her once again.

She set her phone down and focused on the Tv in-Front of her and fell deeper into her fluffy blanket she was cuddling.

Without a word of exchange H joins her back on the sofa, sits next to the girl and guides her legs to his lap, allowing his fingers to gently trace over her shins and ankles.

“I love you” she says eyes remaining glued to the screen.

His movements stop and he turns his head to her.

“I love you too”

The night was slowly closing and the couple slowly started there evening routine.

Y/n was in there shared bathroom going through with her skincare before bed, a million thoughts popped up at once, she didn’t know if It was her anxiety or just her clear overthinking tendencies

Y/n glanced in the mirror, all she saw was all imperfections, she couldn’t even compare to Taylor swift or Kendall Jenner in anyway shape or form.

“Baby Y’alright?” Harry asked from the other side of the door.

She quickly tapped her phone to see the time just to realise she’s spent nearly an hour locked in the bathroom.

“Yeah baby m’now Coming out” she said shaking the train of though out of her head.

Silent tears roll down her face.

Him. He was so amazing in everything he did. His voice was safe. His words were so comforting. The thought of him not being around her terrified the shit out of her.

— — — — —

Part 2 coming soon!

Hopefully you all like this! There will be a part 2 as I don’t want this to be a really long fic, because I have many ideas what I want done with this!!! 🤎

[prfctparis]

I’d Give You My Lungs So You Can Breathe (I’ve Got You, Brother) [CH1]

AO3 Link / Next / Masterlist

summary:

Danny Fenton was adopted at age ten, with little to no memories about his former family. At age fourteen, he died yet lived and those memories began to return. He didn’t do anything about those memories – didn’t plan to, at least not yet – but then he got captured by the GIW, saved by his friends and someone who might be his sister who he only somewhat remembered, and taken to Gotham to, apparently, his biological father for safety until further notice.

Team Phantom was there, too, and they did not sign up for this family drama.

a/n:

so i figured i’d post this here too, since there are so many dcxdp lovers on here, and in case someone has no access to ao3 somehow or just doesn’t use it…well, here you go! also i’m bored & this blog needs some action lmao. anyway, this first chapter is technically a prologue, but whatever. there are 2 more chapters i have already written (which are also on ao3), so i’ll upload them here in a day or so if anyone wants me to, and i’m gradually working on the next one. hope you guys enjoy! FYI, so no one is confused, in this athanasia is danny’s twin – not damian :)

warnings for the entire fic:

canon-typical violence of the DC variety; angst; memory loss/repressed memories; do i need to say major character death(s) or is that just a given for this fandom; questionable parenting tho every parent is trying to do good & care for the kids; implied/referenced past child abuse bc of the child assassin backgrounds; pls tell me if i missed something

CHAPTER ONE —

[italicized conversations are implied to be spoken in arabic]

At age ten, he didn’t remember much of anything.

He woke up at the edge of some woods, in dirty and dark clothes that, for some reason, made his mind go Assassin. His head was fuzzy, and the left side of both his chest and back hurt, and there were streaks of dark brown-ish red on his hands that flaked off when he scratched at them.

Eventually, he got up. The sun was rising, and he needed to figure out where he was. So, he walked. He walked, and walked, and when he made into a town, he kept on walking. The sign read ‘Amity Park’ in English.

…That unnerved him. Usually he didn’t read things in English. Right? They were in another language, letters and words read from right to left rather than left to right. Arabic, his mind supplied.

Why was everything in English? he thought, a little hysterical, and then tensed, eyes roaming around as if someone might have heard him – might have had a sixth sense to sniff out fear.

He wasn’t allowed to be afraid, or panic. He couldn’t afford to. He couldn’t. Because…

Because of what?

“Excuse me?” A young voice broke his thoughts.

He spun around and saw a girl with red hair and blue headband with a backpack on her shoulders. She was older than him by a few years…maybe.

(He was ten. How he knew that, he didn’t know, but he was ten.)

“Are you lost?”

Face careful not to show any emotion, he glanced around. The roads were beginning to get busy. People were walking out of buildings, and into other ones.

The girl just smiled – nothing that made him want to bolt, or fight to get away, or freeze in fear. It was…kind. “It’s okay if you are, I can help you. I’m Jasmine,” she said. “But most people just call me Jazz; it’s a nickname. Can you tell me yours?” She knelt down. Some of the nerves dissipated at the action; no longer was she standing over him.

For a moment, he continued to eye her suspiciously. Then, he looked away with furrowed brows as he tried to think. His name… It started with a ‘D’.

“…Danny,” he spoke, voice quiet but rough, after a few more seconds, and looked back at her. He didn’t know much of anything right now, but he did know someone used to call him that. It was short for something. “My nickname is Danny.”

Jasmine – or Jazz – smiled again. “That must be short for Daniel,” she said.

No… Yes? He didn’t know. It didn’t feel right, but not really wrong, either. So, he shrugged.

“Well, Danny,” Jazz began, “can you answer my first question? Are you lost? It’s okay if you can’t, but I still want to help you.”

“I…think so,” he spoke slowly. And, much to his embarrassment, his throat started to tighten with panic. “The sign said Amity Park. But I do not– I do not know where that is.”

“Yeah. You’re in Amity Park, Illinois.” Then, belatedly, “In America.” Her brows pulled together. “Do you- Do you know how you got here?”

He started to shake his head slowly, but the panic and fear had reached their peaks. The movement became rapid, and tears made his eyes sting. “I do– I do not know, I–.” His breath stuttering cut his words off, but the action moved his wounds on his chest and back and he winced, pressing a hand to the one near his heart. “I do not know how, or what happened to– to me, and it hurts.”

Jazz’s eyes widened. “Okay. Okay, it’s okay – I’ll help you. Will you let me?”

Something in him told him to say no. To run. This girl wasn’t trustworthy; she could be dangerous.

But he was scared. Terrified. (Why didn’t he know anything?) So he ignored that first instinct with a shaky nod as tears ran down his cheeks.

And Jazz helped him.

Jazz ended up becoming his sister. His older sister. That adjective to describe her was important to him, for some reason. Adoptive less so. She was his sister – adoptive or not – that was who she was; but she was older.

Maddie and Jack – who, eventually, became Mom and Dad to him, and who, as absent as they were, really did love both him and Jazz – asked once if Danny had a little sister, one day after he had explained that to them offhandedly.

Danny thought. He tried to remember.

“…No,” he answered. Because as far as he knew, he didn’t.

But also because saying, I don’t know, was getting exhausting. He’s only been with them a few months.

He grew to hate not knowing things.

(Jazz said it was anxiety, or potentially paranoia, but also maybe PTSD. Danny thought she was just being a know-it-all with her new found love of psychology.)

Some days it felt like he was missing something. Not just his memories, but something that was a part of him. Another person, or two.

Maddie and Jack would say something odd, or confusing, and he would turn to look at someone who wasn’t there to silently question and/or judge them.

At age fourteen, Danny, on a dare, did something very, very stupid.

He died, but also didn’t.

He accidentally got his parents’ ghost machine to work and now ghosts caused chaos in town.

He became Phantom – a halfa; someone who was dead, but also alive – and became the town’s vigilante, of sorts.

He…began to remember.

This wasn’t the first time he died but lived.

Sam and Tucker, his two best friends, were there at the accident, so they knew from the get-go. He told Jasmine, not too long after, mostly because she suspected something and he was shit at lying to her, but he told her. Mom and Dad, avid ghost hunters, were kept in the dark about it.

For a while, no one knew he was starting to get his memories back. After all, how was he supposed to explain that he was a former child assassin?

But then he had a nightmare-esque memory of being a child with a katana in his hands, a girl his age close by, and a toddler between them. Someone barked orders in Arabic.

He was forced to kill.

(Not the girl, nor the toddler. But someone. Someone who didn’t deserve it.)

Danny woke up having a panic attack, with Jazz hovering over him. After some tears, calming down, and spending the following two hours sitting in silence on his bed with his older sister, he finally told her.

There were more tears.

Jazz just held her little brother tightly.

Sam once brought up that he fought like someone who was used to somebody being beside him.

He feigned confusion and chuckled. “What?”

“When you fight, you leave blind spots open,” she explained further. “Like you’re relying on someone who isn’t there.”

Tucker nodded. “She’s right. I noticed, too.”

Danny shrugged. “That’s just how I fight,” he said. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

What he didn’t say, was that he now had a fuzzy memory of fighting with someone – that girl his age from his memories. But it wasn’t necessarily fighting as it was training, and it wasn’t always with one another but also against each other.

Sam hummed. “Okay, Danny.”

Dan happened.

Danny didn’t want to become Dan.

He began having nightmares of an old man dressed in green radiating pride because of him – because he was Dan.

It made him sick.

Vlad Masters – also known as Plasmius, also also known as a pain in Danny’s ass – cloned him.

He now had a little sister. Ellie. Vlad named her Danielle, and she at first went by Dani, but that got too confusing, so. Ellie, she became.

She roamed around the world after the whole situation with Vlad got handled, and Danny let her. But they kept in touch, and she often told him where she was headed, or where she was resting, or how long until she might come back.

Sometimes when she stopped by, when they were hanging out, something about her jogged fuzzy memories of a little brother. But then sometimes the way she fought with him against Vlad and ghosts brought up vague snippets of another sister.

At age fifteen, he defeated Pariah Dark. Enough said.

He also told Mom and Dad about the ghost thing. And the assassin kid thing. They took it well, considering.

He no longer had to worry about vivisection by his parents, or about being kicked about because he killed someone as a child and they were now scared of him, or something.

They still loved him. He loved them.

Memories about his childhood were still sparse, though they were gradually coming back.

(Some good. Most bad. Danny woke up from nightmares far too many times, nowadays.)

“Are you… Are going to want to find them? Your family, I mean,” Dad asked, late one night when Mom was asleep and Jazz was studying and Danny decided to bother him instead of his older sister when he came home with a large gash on his arm from Skulker.

It was random, but he still answered. “Um, maybe eventually. My younger siblings, at least. I don’t know their names, or even if…”

“Well, when you decide to, I’ll help out in any way,” he said.

He smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

Dad smiled, gently ruffled his hair, and then pulled him into a near-crushing hug. “Of course, Dan-o.”

At age seventeen, the GIW barged into Amity.

It didn’t go well.

They caught him.

He didn’t get out until after he turned eighteen.

+++

At age ten, Athanasia watched her grandfather run a sword through her twin brother’s chest from the shadows.

She stood there, numb and in shock. A voice in her head screamed at her that, if someone were to attack right now, she would also die. She couldn’t help but not care when her twin brother was bleeding out before her eyes.

And unless she wanted to face Grandfather’s wrath as well, she couldn’t do anything about it.

Grandfather, with a casual swipe to clean his sword, turned away. “Clean this up,” he ordered the servants. He flicked his wrist to Dányál. “Rid of the body. It is time I speak with Talia.”

The servants obeyed. A couple began to clean. One picked up Dányál and began to leave, staunching the blood with cloths as to not leave a trail. On quiet feet, Athanasia followed.

Suspicion and confusion addled her brain when she realized the servant was going to one of the Pits. Her footsteps became more determined, but no less quiet.

She followed them to the Pit. Watched how the servant dunked him into it until the wound was no longer life threatening. Then followed them to one of the many hidden exits. Watched as the servant left with her twin brother for good.

Her other half was gone. Something in her shattered.

Athanasia now had a burning hatred for Ra’s al Ghul.

Life in the League was different now, without her twin. Too different.

She wanted out, but couldn’t leave Damian.

Not yet, anyway.

At age eleven, she met Jason Todd. Sort of.

He was catatonic, most of the first year, but still a good fighter. She was mostly indifferent to him, the adoptive son of her biological father.

(Mother didn’t know she knew about that, about Bruce Wayne – the Batman – being her, Dányál’s, and Damian’s father. But there were so many times she would overhear Ra’s complain about the man and Mother’s previous relationship with him before things clicked together.)

But then she learned Jason shouldn’t even be breathing, and her indifference turned into intrigue.

Alive, but should be dead? It reminded her of Dányál. Made her wonder if he was catatonic as well, wherever that servant took him.

Her feelings about him did a 180 when she noticed Mother looked at him how she used to look at Dányál, years ago. The looks stopped when Dányál first began to voice his dislike about killing, but now here that look was, directed towards a boy no older than sixteen.

That look stayed after she dunked him in a Lazarus Pit, and Jason, in Pit induced rage, killed everyone in the room he woke up in. It formed into pride – a look Athanasia never saw towards Dányál.

It angered her. What – was Mother trying to replace her twin brother with Batman’s lame sidekick? She was offended on her twin’s behalf, wherever he was now.

On one of the nights she snuck into Damian’s rooms to spend time with him, the young boy noticed her anger. He asked what was wrong. She told him nothing. He scowled in that way when he knew someone was lying and there was no one to reprimand him on unnecessary emotional expressions. She flicked his ear. He hissed. She rolled her eyes.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” she told him. “Now – tell me why I heard about another fight between you and our dear cousin, Mara.”

Damian’s scowl turned into a sneer. An impressive one, too, for a six year old. “She insulted Dányál. Called him weak.” He paused. “So I bit her.”

Athanasia had never been more proud.

At age twelve, she spoke to Jason for the first time.

“Tell me about Batman.”

Jason turned, confused surprise clear as day on his face as he looked at her. “They have kids here?”

She stared at him, unblinking. “Tell me,” she repeated, demanding, “about Batman.”

He crossed his arms, eyes calculating as he continued to stare back. His head tilted, his eyes squinted, and then his brows rose like he saw something that he wasn’t expecting.

Agitated, she said, “Do you need another dunk in a Pit? Are you still catatonic? Answer me, Todd.” She snapped the last sentence in Arabic.

Jason rolled his eyes. He muttered a few cuss words. “Why do you want to know about Batman?”

“I need to know.”

“That doesn’t answer my question–.”

“And you have yet to answer mine,” she sneered.

They had a stare down. Jason blinked first – Athanasia smirked. He cussed again and ran a hand through his hair, which now had a white streak in it ever since he got dunked.

“He’s a detective. A good one,” he said. “One of the best, if not the best.”

She nodded once. “Is he a good man?”

That caught him off guard. For a moment, he didn’t answer, and she began to worry that her plan was already failing and she hadn’t even started it yet.

“Yes. Yeah, he’s a good man. Flawed to hell and back, but he’s good.” His brows pulled together. “Why? Why ask me?”

“Because you are his son, and he is your father.”

The teen glowered. “He is not–!”

Athanasia left before she could hear his dramatics.

There weren’t many moments where Athanasia spent one on one time with Talia. At least, moments where the woman wasn’t training her into a perfect assassin. Sitting here, in front of her vanity, with Mother braiding her hair and humming quietly, was a rarity.

And Athanasia was about to ruin it.

“I want to fake my death.”

Mother’s hands froze where they were nearly done braiding her hair. “Excuse me?”

“I want to fake my death,” she repeated. Maybe Mother liked Jason so much because they both needed phrases spoken twice, she thought. “To find Dányál.”

“What,” Mother hissed.

“And then,” she went on, staring straight back at Mother through the mirror, as if daring her to interrupt or refuse, “I want you to send Damian to our father, Bruce Wayne – the Batman.”

“And why would either of us do those things?” Mother asked slowly, dangerously.

“Because I watched Grandfather run a sword through my twin’s chest, and then I watched him be put in a Lazarus Pit to keep him alive by one of your servants who was disguising himself as one of Grandfather’s. Because I do not want be the heir, and I want to find my brother, and I do not want this life for Damian, and Jason Todd said Bruce Wayne is a good man.”

Mother didn’t respond right away. They continued to stare at one another through the mirror.

“If you have an ounce of love for any of us, you will help me.”

Mother finished the braid, then sent her away to her room.

Athanasia instead went to Jason’s rooms, where she snuck in again and poked through his collection of books Mother brought him. He complained and tried to get her to leave. She jabbed him in the gut with her elbow and asked what made Batman, Bruce Wayne, good.

Jason cussed her out.

He still explained what made his father good.

(“There is a very likely chance he will not remember you. As well as restoring memories, it can take them away.”

“I know, Mother.”

“Do you?”)

At age fourteen, Athanasia did just what she planned to do.

She faked her death.

But not without speaking to Damian first.

“Listen to me,” Athanasia said, hands cupping Damian’s face. He tried to move away. She gripped tighter, but still made sure not to hurt him. “Listen to me,” she stressed, “I am leaving. I have to go somewhere, and I will not be back until I find Dányál.”

“Dányál is–.”

“I said what I said,” she interrupted. “Understand?”

He scowled. It was cute. “No.”

“Too bad. Do not stop pestering Mother about meeting our Father, understand? Hopefully the next time we see each other, you will be with him and I will have our brother. But when you do meet him, do not mention me or Danny. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Good.”

Damian huffed. “Remove your hands before I remove them for you.”

“No,” she said, and pulled him into a rare hug. He squawked, and wiggled away not even a second later. “Fight Mara for me while I’m gone.”

She slipped him a communicator she remade that only went to the matching one she was keeping for herself. He hid it in his clothes immediately.

And then she left to die, but not really.

Her heart stopped for five minutes.

At age sixteen, she finally found her should-be-dead brother.

He was in a haunted town in Illinois. Ghosts were real, apparently, and made themselves at home in this town. It was…odd. And ironic. And Athanasia couldn’t be happier.

She found that he was adopted by a scientific couple, who went from hunting ghosts with no ethics at all to studying ghosts with ethics. They had an 19 year old daughter named Jasmine, and Dányál went solely by ‘Danny’ but everyone (adults, really) occasionally called him ‘Daniel’. He had two best friends: Sam Manson and Tucker Foley. They were good people.

Dányál also seemed to be unknowingly following in their father’s footsteps. He and Phantom were obviously the same person. Although, Phantom often called himself a ghost. Dányál wasn’t one.

And as much as Athanasia wanted to make her presence known, and hug her twin for the first time in six years… She couldn’t. He was happy here, even with constantly fighting ghosts.

So, with plans to keep an eye on him, she left Amity Park.

And then went to Gotham City.

A year ago, Damian sent through their one way communicators that he was now with Father. From time to time, she now checked on Damian from afar when passing through, not yet in person because Dányál still wasn’t with her.

She also regularly broke into Jason Todd’s safe houses and stole one or two guns, or pushed the furniture five inches in various directions, or messed up his meticulously organized books, or stole food that he made.

It wasn’t what she saw herself doing after faking her death, but, well… At least they were all out of the League.

At age seventeen, she got word the League infiltrated the Ghost Investigation Ward.

And they had Phantom.

She wasn’t able to get him out until after she turned eighteen.

+++

At age five, Damian lost a brother.

The day started out normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. He trained, sometimes with Mother, but more often than not with other instructors. Sometimes Grandfather watched, and he did this time. It surprised him, not that he would show it.

Later that night, Athanasia snuck in. Unshed tears were in her eyes. Immediately, he was on alert.

“…Uhkti?” he asked.

Athanasia moved to sit in front of him on his bed. She reached her hands out until she was cupping his face, which was odd. Dányál did that, usually, but almost always to be annoying. The action felt…weird coming from his sister in a more serious way. He wanted to move but was frozen.

“I have to tell you something,” she spoke slowly.

With a start, he realized she was sad. Why was she sad? Not many things could upset his big sister.

“What is it?”

“…Dányál is gone,” she said. Her voice choked. “Dán– Danny is gone, Dames. He… He will not be coming back to the League. I’m sorry.”

Damian’s confusion crumbled into sorrow.

Seeing Athanasia without Dányál was something he didn’t like. For the most part, they didn’t allow the kids to interact outside of training, their cousin Mara al Ghul and the children of the Demon’s Fist included. All, except the twins.

They were born together. They lived together. They trained together – but also sometimes against each other. Those always turned into draws.

Two halves of a whole.

He once heard someone call them the Twin Terrors. He understood why – they were ruthless when they fought by themselves, but decimated opponents when they were side by side. Damian expected them to lead the Demon’s Fist together – and they did, for a short time. But then something changed.

It was abruptly only Dányál. But then Dányál died. Then it was Athanasia.

Mara said it should be her. She taunted his sister. She then began to taunt him. Athanasia never gave in, but during training she didn’t hold back. Damian did give in and vowed to beat his cousin in every fight against her, training or not.

No one called his brother weak.

(Mother seemed to agree. Two members of the League got caught speaking about perhaps Dányál al Ghul just wasn’t strong enough. They were gone by nightfall, and Damian walked in on Mother cleaning blood off of her sword.)

At age seven, he first noticed Athanasia’s hatred at their Grandfather.

It was during a training session. Him against his sister. Grandfather was watching and judging. Athanasia beat him, but he came close to beating her.

It was when Grandfather had his back turned, when they were off to the side tending to bruises and wounds, when Damian glanced up at Athanasia and saw nothing but pure hatred on her face.

It was gone a second later.

Damian almost thought he imagined it. Almost.

“Who killed our brother?” he asked one night.

They were sitting on the window sill of an opened window, squished together as they watched the stars. It was uncomfortable. Damian didn’t mind.

“Why do you think I know?” she asked in return.

“Because you are you. You learn things – detect them out.”

“‘Detect’ is a big word for a seven year old.”

“I will gut you like a pig–.”

She never told him.

He had his suspicions, though.

At age nine, Athanasia left him. Left the League of Assassins.

She said she would see him again when she found Dányál and, seeing as though their brother was dead, Damian knew he would most likely never see her again.

He sort of hated her for leaving.

Though, he still took the communicator she gave him and kept it on his persons at all times, just in case.

Just a week after she left, word spread through the League that Athanasia al Ghul died during a mission gone wrong. Mother came back with bloodstained clothes and a look in her eyes that made Damian refrain from asking any questions.

A servant tried to offer their condolences. Mother slit their throat.

He continued to ask Mother about his Father, though. She continued to refuse, and said he would learn about the man once he beat her in a fight.

Damian took that challenge to heart and made sure he got better and better and better – until he was as good as his older siblings.

Mara continued to be an annoyance and a pain. With now two of Talia’s children dead and gone, she taunted Damian with how pathetic they were. How Dányál was killed because he began to defy orders and refuse to kill. How it was only a matter of time before Damian died, too, and she would be the true rightful heir to the Demon’s Fist and then the Demon’s Head.

It was far from the truth. He might not be the fighters and killers Dányál and Athanasia were, but he was better than Mara. After all, he was the only blood son of Talia al Ghul and a great, powerful man he desperately wanted to meet. He was a far better assassin than Mara ever was.

They fought against each other during training again.

He won, of course.

He also blinded her in one eye.

At age ten, he finally got to leave to meet his father. It was not as he was expecting.

There was a rule: no killing. Damian didn’t like that rule. That was how Dányál got killed himself.

What he also didn’t like, were the hundreds of other children Father had – apparently they were Damian’s siblings. He already had siblings, two of them, and they were both gone, and he didn’t need any more of them.

He sent Athanasia a message saying that he was now with Father. He got a simple, ‘Good,’ in response and nothing else.

He was both relieved she was alive and angry that she still hadn’t come back.

“Where the fuck is your sister?” Todd asked after they first met.

Damian stared him dead in the eyes and asked, “What sister?”

“Y’know… Your older sister,” he said.

“I don’t have a sister.”

“Um, yes, you do.”

“Then what is her name?”

“It’s… Well, what the fuck does that matter? She’s your sister, you should know!”

“I told you, I do not have a sister. Do you need to be dumped in the Pit to fix your brain again?”

Todd paused. He then let out a string of curses and angrily left.

Damian smirked to himself.

Shortly afterward, Father died. Except, Timothy Drake, like the idiot that he was, believed that he was still alive.

In that way, he reminded Damian of Athanasia and how she left to find she left to find Dányál, and he also reminded him of Dányál when he snarked while fighting, which he was admittedly great at. He also excelled at detective work.

Drake eventually left to find Batman.

Damian hated Drake.

Richard Grayson was…okay. Certainly better than Drake, the insolent whelp that he was. Grayson took up Batman, Damian was Robin. It was rough at first, but they eventually got the hang of it.

It just…took some time.

And then of course Drake came back with evidence that Father was, in fact, alive.

(Damian also had a metal spine, now, but that was neither here nor there.)

At age eleven, Father came back from being lost in the time stream.

Richard went back to Blüdhaven. Drake came and went from his own place and to the manor. Todd did his own things as per usual. Cain came and went, too, but often tried to spend time with Damian.

Drake tried once, too. It shockingly went well – right up until ‘Dames’ slipped out of his mouth.

“Do not call me that,” Damian snapped, the awkward but good atmosphere disappearing within milliseconds.

Drake startled. “Whoa, okay,” he said. His hands were held up as if he was surrendering. “All right, I won’t. I’m sor– wait, Damian, come back! I’m sorry!”

Damian ignored him and stalked to his room.

At age twelve, his communicator with Athanasia went off, the message telling him to look into the Ghost Investigation Ward immediately.

Only, he didn’t see or hear it.

He was dead, at the time, thanks to Heretic.

He didn’t see it until after he came back. He tried to get into contact with his sister once he did, but something blocked the connection.

It wasn’t until months later, now at age thirteen, when he heard from her again.

And she had Dányál with her.

[heart-wit-strength]

Speaking of hop pop, it’s funny how he wanted to adopt her in season 2, but almost completely forgot about her in season 3(guess the writers were trying to push andrias as Marcy’s father figure)

I don't have much to say on that, bc tbh the Plantars ARE meant to be Anne's pair ups and not Marcy's sooo

I feel rather conflicted about the way we were present with Yunan and Olivia in the sense of Marcy's parent figures though, be it the whole "I wish I got to know you both better" "in a way you helped us see what's important as well" in the end of the show which makes no sense since she spent two seasons with them or the whole rescue thing itself or Yunan's attitude towards her

My memory may be a little vague but I believe in Marcy's journal Yunan is shown to be contempt towards Marcy (be it from Marcy's failure to recognise her on the warship, even though it was because Marcy was high on painkillers in a hospital when they first met) their relationship is plain miscommunication which never gets worked on

I don't have the brain capacity to analyse on Olivia rn, she may get a pass, but again her introduction puts her as just there to provide Marcy the doses of praises, more of a straight-A's kid's mom who's just very repressed. And violent at times.

And so Andrias was left to be the only figure who dealt with her at a rather emotional level. I believe it's meant to add to overall tragedy of Marcy not getting the typical found family that was to her what Grime and Plantars are to Anne and Sasha

[fromkenari]

I don't know why I'm remembering this right now, but when I was still in the early stages of struggling out from under 18 years of having my identity repressed and knowing absolutely nothing about being queer, I was 20 years old (I think), and I was in a pool with "friends," and they were making fun of this girl in the pool further away because she had a bulge in her bikini that floated in the water and my "friends" were saying "Someone didn't shave their muff!" and I was just really confused why THAT would be funny and I didn't even realize what other factors could have caused this to occur and... I fucking hate that everything queer was kept from me, and I was told to act like a girl because I was a girl and I there was going to be punishment if I didn't live as a girl (this all started when I was a toddler) and I didn't even know gay people existed until probably late junior high, but it was only as a concept that I was being told was an "abomination" and that it was "wrong" and "those people" deserved to be in jail... Meanwhile, my great aunt, who helped raise me, was a butch lesbian and was never allowed to share that part of herself with us kids because she was told if she did, she would never be allowed to see us again... And then my best friend in high school came out as gay and I was the only one surprised and one of the few that continued to be friends with him before he was forced to move away because of the bullying... I just wish I could go back to all these moments and have actually not been ignorant of everything queer because I might have actually had some good childhood memories that weren't marred by my parent's oppressive, bigoted hate. By the time I figured shit out, the only kind person from my childhood who was left was my grandmother with dementia and I came out to her and she was worried that I would get treated like my butch aunt -- who I didn't know until recently had multiple hate crimes committed against her -- but otherwise she supported me and then she passed away in 2017 and it's been a fucking disaster dealing with the rest of my family. My fucking brother outed me to my parents because he was mad at me and that was one year ago and he's in his 30s and married but they say they're okay with me referring to my one and only nibling with gender-neutral terms until they can tell us how they identify but fuck's sake. They think I'm in therapy because bipolar disorder is hereditary in my family??? FUCK NO, I'm in therapy because of the decades of trauma they have subjected me to. And it's absolutely disgusting that people still think it's acceptable to label and pigeonhole children and ban books and tell their teachers they can't talk about race or say the word "gay." And you know, I'm disabled, neurodivergent, and chronically ill too and that has been a fucking nightmare as well again because of bigots and the broken systems in place. I don't even know what the point of this post was, but I'm so tired and I'm terrified of November 5th because either way, absolutely everyone is still fucked but my choices are the status quo or fascism? Are you fucking shitting me? I don't often use the word hate but I hate this so much it's wrecking everything because I'm desperately hoping the status quo prevails even though it makes me want to vomit to say it.

[handfulofmuses]

You were built by the company and mistreated by them. Your whole purpose is to follow orders and execute them flawlessly.

You are marked for disposal because they deem you as defective

Some nincompoop did not do their job properly and did not shut you down entirely so you are half dying among the corpses of fellow discarded robots

A human child goes to that robot graveyard regularly. She rescues you and bestows a second chance upon you.

You become the servant of that rich family. They view you as the girls dumpster pet, you are just a industrial machinery. They mistreat you and your fellow robots, you have to obey and not mess up or you get killed.

You know your place. You don’t question your orders, you do not speak unless you are spoken to, you do your job even at the expense of others.

You are terrified of your masters, it’s noticeable on your expressions and body language

You seem to have a lot of repressed anger - you take that out on N and maybe even the other drones.

The kid is getting abused and neglected. You are worried for her, but you can’t do anything to help her.

Tessa brings home another drone. You are not thrilled about it “another one?“ you know the parents are already not happy.

The drone is strange. The parents want Cyn out of their sight, so you lock her up in the basement. You don’t let her out until you are told otherwise.

She somehow managed to get out from the basement. You have no idea how. You have the keys, they are still there but somehow she is out. Cyn addresses you directly that you “forgot to let her out of her basement time out“

You attend the gala. You are not supposed to be there, but you go anyway because of Tessa. Cyn and N join you.

The mother spots all of you. You immediately take a proper posture. She makes it clear she won’t entertain the dumpster pets and is even more upset to see Cyn around.

She threatens to throw out the broken drones clogging their library tomorrow. That includes V.

You can’t help to stand in silence and fear as the scolding goes on.

Cyn suddenly dares to speak against the mother. “They are not broken. We can no longer be thrown out.” You are afraid. You know the consequences.

N stands up for Cyn, you are still afraid. Nobody is keeping quiet to give the situation time to defuse.

N gets disposed of. You, Tessa and Cyn are chained up in Tessa‘s room.

Tessa asks for your help to break free. You know better. You already disobeyed by going to the gala. You are not happy about the situation.

You suddenly see horrors beyond your comprehension. Cyn has turned into something entirely different, telling Tessa that she will not have to discard her pets and she won’t discard her. It tells her to stay away from the gala. It suddenly goes away. You are terrified. You have no idea what just happened.

You escape the room to help everyone at the gala. V attacks you - she has organic wings, something is wrong with her. But you fight.

You make it to the gala. You get controlled the moment you arrived and lock everyone inside. You help to kill the people you wanted to save. You are likely the cause of death of your masters and best friend. You were the only one of the trio who was at the massacre and witnessed everything.

You cause genocide on humanity and destroy the planet.

You are now sent to different planets to do the same. It allows you and your team to have your original personalities. You are only alive because you are its plaything thing now.

You are not the original J and neither is your team their original selves. Your built is different too. You have her memories, but you are not J. They are not N or V.

Its wearing the skin of someone you considered a close friend. Everything and everyone is gone - there is nobody who has authority over you expect for that thing. You follow it - out of fear and because your whole life was made of following orders.

You are the leader of the trio. You have never seen a healthy example of leadership so you handle it the only way you know how.

Cyn leaves N and V alone as long as they are doing their jobs. You are still getting orders from it.

Your memories have not been wiped.

One of them questions their orders. They are not supposed to do that so you try to kill him. It doesn’t matter - he will come back anyway as a clone.

He survived. He has teamed up with the worker and helps fighting you and V.

You didn’t think a worker would actually be enough to beat you. She only managed to beat you because you tried to monologue and she caught you off guard. You curse out buzzwords.

You trip and she holds a railgun to your face, warning you that if she hears one more buzzword she will do it. You are afraid - you don’t want to die. So you try to bargain in the only way you know how: you try to offer a equity partnership. But she is petty and blows your head off.

Cyn is trying to repair you again. They destroy your core.

You are back anyway. You don’t even look thrilled to be back. You are quiet.

“Effective drones were cloned more” you put up a facade. You know you are expendable. You don’t even want to be here.

Your boss leaves you behind to watch the ship while boss is going to the labs with everyone else. You don’t understand. You are confused, but you do not question orders. You follow them.

New orders are to destroy ways off the planet. You do it.

A trio of workers slams into you on a school bus. They have the rail gun that killed you before. You freeze entirely in place. You are terrified. You can’t hide your fear as even the screen shows “prior hazard”. All the deaths you had? You remember every single one. All of them have traumatized you.

Lucky you! You didn’t get killed with a railgun - your boss exploded things and is destroying the planet! Even the ones who tried to fight you are already taken out because hey, we only can let N and Uzi do stuff so let’s skip everything else entirely!

Oh, wait. Sucks to be you. All you can do is making sarcastic comments towards your boss as it destroys the planet without consideration for you. It’s fine. You have done this a million times.

It’s clear you don’t even want to be here

Let’s just focus on the trio that is still there. You sigh - your attitude is a lot different than from the pilot. You were cocky and played with your prey - now you just want to get this over with.

The current circumstances make it difficult

You are FINE and CALM (expect you are anything but) and GO AWAY

V comes running in with a raptor you are confused last time you were on the same side

She is mad because you and the others were supposed to get away

It tricked both her and you

You know there is no escape even in death. You have died so many times and were revived so many times, Cyn was likely toying with you and broke your spirit ; it doesn’t matter - you cannot fight it.

You don’t even know that N and V have currently no means of getting controlled by it. You don’t know why they are fighting back and how the last time you tried that you were forced to kill your best friend

You offer her to join up. You want to stay on equal grounds as a team. She rejects your offer - you seem genuinely hurt over it. But it doesn’t matter. You never needed her or N - that’s what you tell yourself so you can feel in control of the situation. You have build walls and a facade so nobody can hurt you.

The fight with Cyn starts. You see the rail gun. You freeze. It’s the prior hazard again. But you pull yourself together again to fight alongside your boss.

The running gag continues and you get treated as a punching bag. Your boss doesn’t even care. The show treats you as a joke - there is even a death count for the deaths that have traumatized you.

You are back from the death because of course you are. They won’t let you die. You are now all alone. Everyone appears to be having a good time but you do what you always do. Working. You fix the ship. You want to be away from here.

You have no idea how to exist without authority. You need a higher up to tell you what to do. You don’t have to make your own decisions and be afraid that you might be wrong. You don’t have to grief if you are working. You can fall in line and do your job while everything else can fall away. For the first time in your life, there is nobody to tell you what to do. You don’t know who are without your job - you have never done a single thing for yourself and made your entire identity around that job.

[bandcampfun2021]

When it comes to the first Halloween 1978 and its immediate sequel Halloween II 1981, the two films are great on their own right. Halloween II (1981) actually ends in a way where it doesn't need any timeline films to continue the story of Michael Myers.

Seriously, after watching the disaster that was Halloween Ends (2022) and how Michael was basically pushed to the sidelines in favor of Corey, it's made me appreciate Halloween II (1981) much more. Even more so, each timeline starts out with a great first film--Halloween 4, H20, and Halloween 2018. And yet, each timeline torpedoes both the second and third films into something unrecognizable.

When it comes to Halloween II (1981), it manages to pick up perfectly where the first film left off and perfectly highlights what miscommunication can do to people, seeing what happened to Ben Tramer. The fact that it takes place in a hospital with dark shadows and lighting also scores massive points with me. The whole time Michael was in the hospital, I felt goosebumps and even was on the edge of my seat as he entered the NICU with a bunch of newborn infants.

Now, when it comes to the twist of the film, in all honesty, I find the twist not to be as bad as people think. I find it much more scarier than anything else.

If you think about it, by the morning of October 31st, 1981, Laurie Strode was just a normal everyday teenager, concerned with her babysitting duties and frequently exasperated and amused by the antics of her friends Lynda and Annie. In her mind, everything is perfect--she has a good job as a babysitter, she has two best friends, her life is going normal...

However, by the time midnight rolls around, Laurie goes through some serious trauma: hearing her friends making concerning noises and finding out what's happened to them and the fact she couldn't protect them...

Then, this mysterious masked man shows up behind her, wielding a knife, and she has to fight for her life. Someone she probably thought would never happen, given how peaceful the neighborhood was.

Now, let's go to Halloween II (1981), just hours after her nightmare began...

Within hours of her nightmare first beginning, she has to go through being in the hospital by herself, and her parents can't even be there because the news of her attack is still very new. It's likely very possible that both Morgan and Pamela Strode likely didn't get word of the attack until the phone-lines had been repaired.

While at the hospital, she finds out the identity of her attacker and completely panics, her mind going a million miles in each direction.

Finally succumbing to her exhaustion, this is where I think her repressed memories come int9 play.

The first thing I want to know is, "Who tells this to a child? I'm not your mother?" That's not the way to tell a child, especially one with a family history like Laurie's, that they're adopted. For me, this somewhat implies that the relationship between Laurie and her adoptive mother was strained at the very least before the events of Halloween 1978.

For those who don't know, the Halloween Chaos comics does shed some insight about what happened to the Myers parents after October 31st, 1963, and it is nothing short of heartbreaking: as a result of Michael's trial, Donald Myers starts drinking heavily while Edith Myers sinks into a depression. It doesn't take long for Donald Myers to ban any mention of Michael. Something that's also somewhat overlooked is that Laurie was only two years old when she lost her sister Judith Myers.

Not wanting to listen to her husband, Edith Myers does end up taking little three-year-old Cynthia (this was Laurie's birth name before the Strode family legally changed it) to see Michael at Smith's Grove on a few occasions. This is my interpretation, but I do believe the reason Edith took her to see Michael is because deep down, the poor woman was hoping that seeing his youngest sister would help bring back the little boy Michael once was.

Not only does bringing her to see Michael not succeed, but one day, little Cynthia babbles about Michael in front of Donald. This man proceeds to beat little Cynthia/Laurie (who's only three at most) until she stops talking. This is when I believe little Laurie started repressing her memories of her biological family due to her father beating her, her mother's depression, and being emotionally neglected at just two/three years old.

With this backstory in mind, this twist becomes more heartbreaking if you think about it. In just a span of few hours, Laurie goes from a normal teenage girl to someone with a dark family history she was completely unprepared for, someone whose name isn't even Laurie, someone whose brother hurt her in more ways than her adoptive family's secrets ever could...

And as if things couldn't get worse, Laurie is given no time to mentally process this reveal and the knowledge that her whole life has been a lie because her life is immediately in danger once more.

Even more so, when Michael comes after her in the boiler room, when Laurie calls out his name, it's full of confusion and hurt, almost as if she can't understand why. Why is her brother hurting her?

So, while some may find Halloween II (1981) a bit underwhelming, I think it's a pretty good sequel to the original Halloween 1978 film on its own right and concludes the story in a satisfying way that doesn't even need the other timeline films to be satisfied.

[missr3n3]

If it's not spoilers in some way, can we get some more details about the Atkin family? Any members that particularly stand out? (outside of Josh and his parents ofc)

i can give a breakdown of who he stayed with during his childhood! note: i don't rly have names beyond joshua's parents picked out yet

joe & marilyn atkin - human!joshua's parents. joshua never knew them but he can recall their faces, and after repressing his memories of being a devil he ended up slowly developing hazy, false memories constructed from other family stories he heard those around him telling

joe's 2nd youngest sister/joshua's 2nd youngest aunt - first to take joshua in after the Atkin House incident. she's probably the nicest of joe's siblings, but she still struggled with joshua a lot because 1) he looks so much like marilyn, who this aunt was decently close with, and 2) joshua hadn't quite adjusted to being human yet. he didn't talk much, which she often took as disrespect or an attitude, but the truth was joshua straight-up hadn't figured out how to talk with his new vocal cords yet.

joe's oldest brother/joshua's oldest uncle - took care of joshua from ages 5-7. tended to be neglectful because again, he looks a lot like marilyn, but this uncle never liked her bc she wouldn't adjust to the atkin family's evangelical lifestyle. so this uncle tried to spend as little time around joshua as possible

joe's older sister/joshua's older aunt - took care of joshua ages 7 - 10. by this point joshua had fully settled into his humanity, which also means he developed a personality of his own, a fact which this aunt absolutely hated bc it meant he wouldn't be 100% unquestioningly obedient towards her n her faith. needless to say she really didn't treat him well.

joe's 2nd older brother/joshua's 2nd older uncle - took care of joshua ages 10-13. drill sergeant ass legal guardian who really wanted joshua to grow into a replacement joe, but unfortunately for him this is also around the time joshua entered his emo era, which this uncle thought was all Satanic Music. the final straw was when he caught joshua listening to slipknot's iowa (album) after isaac recommended it.

joe's parents/joshua's grandparents - took care of joshua ages 13-14. they were way too old to be caring for joshua, as they could barely care for themselves, but they were also the only one's still living in iowa at this point in time. unfortunately, they both passed away too quickly to really help joshua at all.

joe's 2nd youngest brother/joshua's 2nd youngest uncle - took care of joshua ages 14-16. only took joshua in bc it gave them access to their grandparent's house, which due to being in diane, had a ton of property value. however, this uncle eventually decided that putting up with joshua's Devil Music (lol) and overall rebellious attitude wasn't worth the money the house could bring him.

joe's youngest sister/joshua's youngest aunt - the last relative to take joshua in, basically for the same reason his previous uncle did. however, this aunt was much more fanatical about her religion, and actually thought joshua was possessed because. you know lol.

joe has another younger brother, but he made the wise decision that no house was nice enough to be worth moving back to iowa. marilyn was an only child, and her parents passed shortly after joshua was born.

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

Crazy but I saw you said Henry used to be your favorite so do you have some headcanons to share with us?

i'm glad you asked, actually! i've been writing a fic about him for 2 months (someday i'll finish it) so i have some thoughts on his character. but i haven't shared them because well, let's just say that mafia 2 is super valuable to me for honestly revealing not the best human traits (and i'm trying to make these mf even worse) and henry is like. fandom's fav boy so i just didn't really want to get burned at the stake like some kind of a witch

anyway  1) about henry’s family i've seen a lot of hc about him being the youngest + spoiled child. but for some reason it seemed to me from the beginning that he was the middle child and clearly not spoiled. and it's not about an abusive childhood full of deprivation, no. i think inside his family was quite cold (maybe not from the beginning, but if you take henry as the middle child - it had time to become so by the time he was raised). i think henry's mom wasn’t exactly tough, but strict (have you ever talked to mothers who raised multiple sons practically alone? i have and they’re some of the strongest and toughest women i know). and I think she took on the main responsibilities of parenting because her husband just didn't have time for it.

and then there's the whole Sicilian conformity thing (this reminds me of a story of an acquaintance of mine whose mother wouldn’t let him go to the store to buy bread as a child until he put on a suit and tie. he was seven or so btw)

especially since henry's mother had to organize the emigration of the family and the Empire Bay settlement all by herself (i.e. i'm sure there was help from clemente, but the point here is to create a home(!) in a new place in a new country. emigration is often a heartbreaking situation in general, and when you flee to another country to survive, it's hard. you also have to stay strong because you’re responsible for an entire family). i based this whole story of coldness within the family on one (1) documentary about mafia families (it’s called mafia women i think??women of mafia??? i dont remember) and my hair just stood on end at how far from normal relations within the families are. i.e. if his family found out he was a rat, they wouldn't come to his funeral, and if he survived, they would consider him dead. it's wild, but interesting. the fact that even in the families slides mafia traditions  back to henry and how his upbringing affected him.

arrogance - memories of how his family was treated in sicily.

coldness - his parents' prohibition of weakness/emotionality. this is where his outbursts of aggression come from - repressed emotions always lead to a breakdown.

critical of others - rare praise from his parents.

wounded pride - he lives in the shadow of his father and perhaps more successful brothers. a sense of competition, to which he reacts not by wanting to grab his rival by the throat, but by trying to hide and run away from it, just so that these feelings don't torment him. an attempt to change his mind and pretend that he is really cool and successful (instead of actually doing something. fake it till u make it only without making it). he's trying to be lana del rey but really he's just an aggressive wounded dog. maybe a flea-bitten one

mistrust of people is probably a consequence of the fact that mafia families are closed and live in a very detached space (?)

 anyway. it's absolutely 100% henry to me:

+ henry in relation to vito and joe (at least at first? can't say i thought much about their relationship to each other)

+ closure because of the trauma of death. because of the deep understanding that in this business it’s useless to have close ties, friends, love, anything. in the end you will lose everything. and for what?

2) henry and religion i've been wanting to write about this for so long, but i thought (still think) i'd get kicked to death for it

anyway, i'm sure henry's religiosity is totally hypocritical and selfish

hypocrisy - "if they wanna kill themselves so badly i'll gladly help them out. especially for twenty grand". excuse me. suicide is considered one of the worst sins in christianity (at least in orthodox christianity). that phrase couldn’t be uttered by a man who truly believes in god. not to mention what he does for a living.

religiosity is his way of asserting himself, his way of standing above others. the way he (not directly?) chides vito and joe for not going to church. it's actually an attempt to humiliate the other person and show that "i'm better than you".

and!!!! it's funny!!!! he believes in superstition!!!!! as far as i remember it's against christianity. booo poser 🙄

it's funny that he tries to appear to be a religious man and yet he's in the most abusive family in the city

nevertheless i think he donates money to the church but it's all some kind of payoff attempt too! not sincere!!!

3) random analysis - to me he is a fatalist! hence the lack of ambition. fate is inexorable and cannot be changed. maybe it's the trauma of emigration and upbringing, reinforced by the fact that he never succeeded. the idea of henry being a fatalist is based on his "it's the 13th contract, it’s a jinx" etc. lack of ambition due to fatalism - you blame external circumstances/fate for your own failure. maybe he broke his bones a lot as a kid and stuff, maybe he's got a reputation for failure? i don't know. not because he's bad, but because all sorts of bad things keep happening to him for some inexplicable reason (maybe if he prays especially hard it will go away?)

- the further he goes, the more he moves towards a crisis and a fractured personality. frustration, big losses that he couldn't deal with and that just weren't worth it (betty's death probably had something to do with criminality; i think almost all of his brothers were criminals and some died). and i have a hc about clemente who was going to make henry a capo after luca died. but then chapter 10 happened and everything was ruined. such a crisis could be a reason to work for the feds, or it could be an attempt to make a big score with objectively very little chance of success (............. or to become a don, which is the plot of my fic). either way, all of these actions to me lie in deep despair and entrapment

 - hypocrite hypocrite hypocrite hypocrite 

 - funny how he positions himself as a professional even though in the game he fails every time (character = actions, not words). i don't know, maybe he was once good, maybe it's wounded pride and he never admits to himself that he's not good at "the one thing he's good at" and considering this dialogue:

the situation is again quite tragic. it's like "im no artist i've wasted my life". i can totally understand that feeling and it's very hard. to me he's a man trapped in a world he can't get out of. he's trapped in a cage of a life he didn't choose (i think that may be one of the reasons he started working for the feds).

4) henry and betty i think they had a lot of genuine love for each other (..... unlike falcone and lauretta who are much more complicated) and for some reason i like to think that he and betty met because they lived next door to each other in neighboring apartments (the first scene with them in my head was betty looking out of the window and seeing henry in the next window taking dried clothes off the ropes that run between the houses. idk i like to think that he was helping with the household). and it does somehow seem very natural and right that betty was more proactive and that their relationship started because of her (he probably pushed her away at first btw?)

 if betty was killed by one of the families, henry never had a vendetta (probably clemente didn't allow it? one of the first reasons henry has a growing disgust for alberto)

5) random hcs - he knows francesca. very fucked up story because to francesca, henry is just a low-key polite christian (which evokes simple human sympathy), but he is actually the person who put her brother in jail. a person who commits the most heinous sins on an almost daily basis. henry doesn't know francesca is vito's sister either - if henry had spent more time with vito and joe: henry projects his traumas onto joe and vito: "you're so fucking naive." but then at some point he gets a brotherly instinct toward them - when eddie came to collect some of the profits from the drug deal he greeted henry with a punch in the face 🙂 personal grudge among other things (and since henry has many addresses, eddie went to each one and only the last one was correct. man was on the verge of a mental breakdown) - vinci and henry really are distant relatives - in the short time that henry and eddie have been working together (i want to believe that they’ve been working together), they have grown attached to each other. they’re opposite personalities, but they share a deep sense of loss and loneliness (in that don henry fic, there's a gunfight scene where henry and eddie are on opposite sides of the conflict and neither of them dares to shoot the other. eddie resigns and bows his head first. in this version, he also realized that he secretly wanted carlo to fail (still canon thing to me), he was incredibly tired of him and carlo's potential death seemed like a release) - one of henry's brothers took up boxing upon arriving in empire bay and was very successful at it. i have a random hc about this random brother having a fight with eddie. one of the reasons henry vaguely remembers eddie - i haven't written about luca and clemente here but my main point is that over time he developed an aversion and the family as a whole. this is the reason henry says he doesn't care about clemente family's destruction

6) vibesssss (there was supposed to be more here, but i forgot what i wanted to add while i was writing the main text) - about emigration. very painful and realistic topic for me. these screenshots aren't mine anyway it makes me think about henry and his attitude to emigration (which in my understanding is most often a tragedy for a person, because it is the destruction of the old familiar world and loss of emotional ties):

henry after betty's death. to me (esp the last one):

sorry henry it's you:

- it's also him. to be completely honest:

7) track list"Sinnerman" by Nina Simone: makes me thing about his death & character as a whole. his main song to me "Oh, sinnerman, where you gonna run to? Sinnerman where you gonna run to? Where you gonna run to? *** So I run to the Lord Please hide me, Lord Don't you see me prayin'? Don't you see me down here prayin'? But the Lord said Go to the Devil, the Lord said Go to the Devil He said go to the Devil All on that day So I ran to the Devil He was waitin', I ran to the Devil He was waitin', all on that day *** So I ran to the Lord I said Lord, hide me Please hide me Please help me, all on that day He said, hide? Where were you? When you oughta have been prayin' I said Lord, Lord Hear me prayin', Lord, Lord Hear me prayin', all on that day Sinnerman, you oughta be prayin' Oughta be prayin', sinnerman"

"Cold Cold Cold" by Cage The Elephant "I've been breathing air, but there's no sign of life Doctor, the problem's in my chest My heart feels cold as ice, but it's anybody's guess *** Well, it's cold, cold, cold, cold inside Darker in the day than the dead of night Cold, cold, cold, cold inside Doctor, can you help me 'cause something don't feel right? *** Counselor, give me some advice Tell me how hard will I fall if I live a double life *** And as the darkness falls, it fills up both my eyes My life before me like a flash in the night With my arms open wide"

"Snakes" by Pixies about the disaster he caused "Snakes Are coming to your town In tunnels underground Some travelling overground A plague for our mistakes They'll be right next to you Snakes up against me too There'll be nothing to do When the rattle shakes"

"Christmas Kids" by Roar about him trapped in a cage of a life he didn't choose "The Christmas kids were nothing but a gift And love is a tower where all of us can live *** I'm going to escape, but you won't know how Or where to find me when I'm gone I'll drink myself to death inside this prison cell This prison cell So get me out of here Get me out of here *** You'll change your name or change your mind And leave this fucked up place behind But I'll know, I'll know"

"Little Green Bag" by George Baker Selection (not really about his character. it's about a drug deal)

i apologize for a lot of text (i could write more tbg but a) i'm too lazy for it b) i need more time for this (which i just don't have) ) all this is probably ooc but idk idk. this is the version of his character that has settled in my head (and i honestly!!!!! rewrote him a lot in october-november because at some point i realized that i was actually giving him falcone's traits. just because falcone is 100% my type of character) anyway i hope you'll have a nice day/night/etc and all this mess will be interesting to read💓

[minjaebe]

hello everyone! ✨I'm lynn (she/them, 25+, gmt+1) and this is my rp blog for jung minjae (22y/o idol wannabe). behind the cut you can find information about her, her background, and wanted plots/interactions I might come up with and update from time to time. please feel free to shoot us a message or slide into our ask box to plot, talk ooc & interact.

ᴊᴜɴɢ ᴍɪɴᴊᴀᴇ (ᴩʜᴏᴇɴɪx) • ɴᴏᴠ 17ᴛʜ, 2001 (22yᴏ) • ꜱᴄᴏʀᴩɪᴏ • ɪᴅᴏʟ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀʙᴇ

ʙᴀᴄᴋɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ

» jung minjae (stage name phoenix) was born on a crisp autumn day in seoul, south korea, 22 years ago. from a young age, she showed sheer passion and talent for ice-skating, which set her on the inevitable trajectory towards becoming a professional athlete. » only child, grown into a poor family, since the first moment they got a glimpse of their daughter's talent her parents saw in it a mean for a better life. this led them to inevitably put a lot of pressure on minjae's shoulders and to do everything they could to push her towards the right path. whether it was because of her own passion or because of their influence, minjae soon started cherishing the dream of reaching the top, of getting to the olympics. » since the age of ten, when she started winning more and more competitions and gain enough prizes, her parents decided to home-school her so she could fully focus on her career. this led her to miss out on a lot of childhood and teenage experiences and to grow up way too quickly. eventually, this ricocheted the moment she had to drop out her sport. » at the age of sixteen, indeed, her dream came to an end when a bad fall on the ice caused her a career-ending injury. of that event, minjae holds very few memories — only a brief, sharp pain, blood, and black. she woke up in an hospital bed and, no matter how surgeons and professionals her parents reached out to, she soon realised that her career was over. » this unforeseen setback plunged minjae into a dark hole. without friends nor a future, unable to tell who she was without her shattered dreams, she wandered into a world of rebellion and despair. filled with rage, she started exploring the world to try and get back what she'd lost during the years she'd spent focusing only on her sport. she tried dr*ugs, bonded with the wrong people, found herself entangled with the law on multiple occasions... the pain manifested in reckless behavior, fueled by a desperate need to escape a reality she could not accept. » although she remembers this as the darkest moment of her life, it also helped her, in a way, to finally cut the toxic relationship with her parents and to focus more on herself, discovering things she'd never had the chance to discover before. she became more independent, more stubborn, more herself. she moved out of the house, and it was around that time that music finally fell into her life, almost a lifeline from above it came to gave her a new purpose. » through her chaotic life spent between underground parties and pubs, she discovered that dancing was something she enjoyed just as much as skating. when she was finally contacted by a man that saw in her potential to become an idol one day, in his advises she found a path that could give her life a meaning. » a couple of years later, she's 22 and she's trying to chase that dream. she knows she's so far behind many other people that have started to train a lot sooner than her, but the years spent in figure skating make learning dancing and choreographs a bit easier — and, even better, taught her what determination and sacrifice really are. » what she still struggles with the most is building her public persona, her past making it so that it's not that easy anymore to bottle up the fire that she repressed all her childhood life and has only recently started to enjoy. luckily, she knows well enough how to fake and pretend to be someone she's not, all while having fun when no-one's watching. when she's not training and putting up a facade for those who could one day hire her, she can be found working as a dancer (and, sometimes, as a stripper) in nightclubs around seoul, a black wig to cover her blond hair, doing her best to enjoy the freedom she knows she will one day lose with fame.

ᴩʟᴏᴛ/ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ɪᴅᴇᴀꜱ

» friends in general. although she grew up quite isolated (apart from connections she made back when she did ice-skating or maybe family friends?), she's become a lot better at making friends in the recent years. so, anything goes, really! » people that have been wanting to get in the industry for a lot longer than her and that could help her train and understand this new world she wants to get into. » she's quite good with dancing and making choreographs, but she could use some help with singing and, even more, with songwriting. she has a lot to say, but she has no idea how to put that into songs so, help a girl out lol » rivals and "enemies" are always fun to have? idk just people that she doesn't get along with until something changes and they become friends (or not) » someone that might find out she works at nightclubs and, in general, that her life has a "dark side"? idk just someone that might see that she's not as pristine as she likes to pretend like she is in front of superiors and talent scouts (she doesn't necessarily try to hide it with other people, but knows that to become an idol and being hired she needs to keep up appearances with ppl that matter) » roomates, people that live with her or next to her place, coworkers (if there's someone that does similar jobs or works at nightclubs) or people she used to work with (after getting injured, she did a variety of jobs, so there's probably something we can find) » people she might've met during the dark days of her life? maybe people she used to (or still does) get drunk with, stay up through the night, etc. » more specific plot & thread ideas can be found here!

[lamalamam]

thinking about the animal motifs in this show, particularly animals that are let loose: fleabag helping the pet cat escape from her parent's house, Hilary the guinea pig constantly running out of the cage and being restored in place, the wild fox appearing out of nowhere... obviously, the animal motif supersizes fleabag's loneliness and her inability to form genuine connections with human beings, but it’s also interesting how each of these animals corresponds to an aspect of fleabag’s life. Hilary was a gift from boo (friendship), the pet cat lived in her parents’ house(family), while the wild fox’s always in pursuit of the priest (romantic love).

it may be a reach but fleabag’s interactions with the animals reveal how she deals with these different types of relationships. if Hilary represents friendship, then fleabag’s constant act of returning it to its cage could be read as repression of guilt & memories (see: how we only know what happened between them at the end of S1).

whereas fleabag helping the pet cat escape from her parent’s house is a projection of her own desire to be free from her family. she feels trapped by them, especially in the presence of her stepmother. Hence, her coping mechanism is to isolate herself (see: fleabag stays in boot camp and avoids her family in between S1 & 2).

the fox stands out from the rest of the motifs because for once the animal isn’t on the run, instead, it is the one playing the role of the hunter (though running nonetheless). and it pretty much encapsulates fleabag’s attitude towards romantic love & sexuality-the only aspect in her life she is confident about. But it’s also special because fleabag realises this relationship isn’t one which she merely tolerated, so she’s taking the active role to chase after what she wants.

[109moons]

Maybe if I didn’t eat five fucking cookies before trying to go to bed I wouldn’t be awake at 1am but here we are - or maybe this is the universe telling me to get my act together and do the homework my therapist assigned me. Having to approach my life from a completely different vantage point and being stripped of my shield in alcohol has been brutal. The word PTSD is thrown around a lot, and I am remembering a lot of things from my childhood that I had repressed for years. I think back of my childhood and I, of course, had some memory of my Mom being mean to me. I remember growing up realizing my Mom did things differently in raising me than my friends parents. I remember not understanding as an adult the relationships my friends had with their Mom’s; always being embarrassed to explain how strained things were, always being ashamed of myself. That is the box I lived in. I have spent my entire life making myself small. People pleasing. Seeking out abusive people. Thinking I did not deserve to be treated well, so when I wasn’t — I didn’t run, I embraced it. Being unable to say no or set boundaries.

My therapist told me I have lived in fear my entire life. I never looked at it like that. I had a cushy home, a loving Father, I always had meals, my Mom rarely struck me. But it is true. Even as an adult, I lived in complete terror of my mother. Thirty years old, afraid she will show up at my door. Hiding my tattoos from her. Feeling like I am less than anyone else because I was just a bar manager. Hating myself. Slicing myself open in front of men who told me to, “do it again”. It was all fear. And now I’m not afraid anymore. Anything that could have been taken from me, was taken from me. I was stripped bare in the hospital — forced to go to such extremes to remove my abusers from my life that I had to change my phone number and be a protected patient with a code to access my room. I didn’t look at it as fear. But what else could it have been? I have existed in fight or flight mode since I was young enough to understand how much my mother hated me.

My therapist wants me to come back on December 12th and tell her what my values are, because I have never had the opportunity to get to know myself. I didn’t agree with her at first, and then I realized that she’s right. I know my basic truths — my religious ideologies, things I like, people I love — but who am I, really? And she wants me to practice more techniques to quell my anxiety. Journaling has always helped (which is why I have had this blog for so long), and I’m good at “distraction” from the problem, but truly coming up with methods to soothe it without just my medications. It’s hard. I have been so manic and powerless to my anxiety for so long. Always waiting for the knock at the door. This freedom of not receiving unwanted text messages and my phone number being protected is truly priceless. Even at my very lowest, nearly dying in the hospital and on the verge of bankruptcy, god — look at me, I have this chance to get to know myself. Truly, know myself. That is a blessing. I have always prided myself on being very emotionally intuitive and aware but now that it comes to defining myself, I am at a loss.

I hope when I sit down with a sheet of paper and go to just write it down, it will come naturally. I have a feeling I will be writing page after page, then I’ll have to simplify it. I am so full of words and exploding with what I want to say, and frankly, no one wants to hear it anymore. I am sick of hearing my own voice. I know my friends are. Lord knows my family is. I always keep waiting for the shoe to drop. For the alcohol cravings to come back. For a panic attack to strike me. For some declaration that my best friend hates me, or my family just pities me, or I have only been helped so much out of guilt and not love. My therapist said I perform for other people to fit in the box I interpret that they want me in, when they all really just want to love me for me. Whoever she is.

[elliesbelle]

hi belle!! when did you start writing and how did you start off?

hi love!!

honestly, i’ve always been writing my whole life! i knew how to read by 2 years old (the only real achievement in my whole life), and my mom said i’d “write and make” her and my dad books all the time (i’d take paper and fold them in half and draw and write stories and draw pictures for them sometimes, whether they were stories that already existed that i just wanted to recreate in my own way or stories i completely made up on my own).

writing has always been a passion of mine, even at a super young age. whether it’s writing letters (i write letters to my friends a lot, with a stamp and wax seal and everything and i have a whole memory box dedicated just for my letter-writing hobby) or essays or poetry (i actually have a poetry instagram), it’s something that’s always come very naturally to me.

school definitely pushed me to write a lot cause i mean, you have to write a lot for school. but i was always a huge overachiever when it came to writing. i remember that i wrote an essay or short story or something back in the 3rd or 4th grade for my english class and it moved my english teacher so much that she literally passed it all around the english department (to this day, i don’t remember what it was that i wrote, but i remember a lot of teachers really loved it).

i even won several awards related to writing throughout my life:

-in the 6th grade, i wrote an essay that won an award and on the day of obama’s inauguration, i went to this super special theatre with other people who won and we got to watch the inauguration live.

-i went to a private catholic school when i was in the 7th and 8th grade, and i’m not sure what i wrote that caught their attention, but the school johns hopkins invited me to do a bunch of shit with them (it was too expensive though, so i never did any of it).

-i also wanted to attend a private catholic high school since a lot of my peers in middle school were planning to do so as well, but my parents were incredibly poor at the time (my siblings and i were all on scholarships at our current school), so i wrote this letter to the president of the high school i wanted to attend, and he loved it so much that he not only granted me a scholarship or two, but he actually created a scholarship just for me so i could attend the school (it didn’t cover the entire tuition though, and i ended up not going because money was way too tight, so i ended up going to public school instead, which ultimately was for the best).

-i wrote a lot of stuff in high school that won a bunch of shit that i don’t remember (i purposely repressed a lot of high school, sorry lol). i also co-founded the performing arts club at my high school and i not only wrote a lot of short stories and plays for it, but i helped people with it as well. i also took a creative writing class in senior year which i really enjoyed (even my teacher didn’t like me for some reason).

-a lot of professors in college enjoyed my writing so much that one of them got super close to me (in an appropriate ofc, not in a weird way lol), one was super moved by a lot of my writings for class and recommended me to help found the LGBT club for our college (where i met and hung out with the person who actually added the “B” in the LGBT acronym, her name’s loraine hutchins and she’s super cool), and one helped me in becoming a social activist for a couple of years and asked for my help in establishing the institute of race & justice at our college and he also helped me out a lot with my family issues at home.

-while i was also in college and even after (i dropped out a million times and i never graduated cause lol i’m too broke for all that), people paid me to help them write their essays and papers and thesis statements, etc. mind you, i didn’t write it for them or anything, but i did serve as like, an editor or whatever.

if you’re asking about how i started in regards to fanfiction, i was writing fanfiction when i was like, 8 or 9 sgdjfhfj, i’m not kidding, i had an account on fanfiction dot net where i wrote a bunch of fanfiction for an anime i was super into as a kid (it’s called mermaid melody: pichi pichi pitch, it’s so bad but whatever sgdhfhfj). honestly, someone should have called CPS or something cause the shit i was writing was so dark and mature for child sgsjdjfjf, but people seemed to like it? even to this day, i’ll still get emails from the site saying someone liked or commented on a fic of mine (i had this one series that was super dark but people loved it and still ask if i’m gonna update it as if it’s not been almost two decades sgdjfjfj).

i started writing fanfiction for TLOU because i got obsessed with reading it on tumblr earlier this year completely on a whim (i kept getting recommended them on my main personal blog cause i loved playing the games and i was like, fuck it let me read one and i ended up liking it so much). but i was consuming the ‘ellie x reader’ tag so quickly that i was running out of stories to read. eventually, i was like, “fuck it, i have a few ideas of my own, lemme just write it and publish it just for fun.” i was nervous to actually publish my work and didn’t expect people to actually read it, but @lonelyfooryouonly encouraged me to do so (who i was originally mutuals with on my personal main blog ♡︎), so i went ahead and did it, and here we are now!

WOW i did not mean to write THAT much, omg i’m so sorry???? i wrote this all while i was waiting for the bus home from work and i got carried away 😅

i honestly didn’t foresee how far this account would get and how many of y’all would enjoy my works (especially ‘nobody compares to you’, my baby), but i am so grateful to all of you for supporting me and encouraging me to do something i love to do. before i started this blog, i’d been in a real rut with writing (i’d only be writing for my poetry instagram account, but that’s it), but this has reminded me of how much i love to write. thank you so much for the love and support, you guys are literally the best. 🩷

[set-forth-a-dream]

Just a quick thought on some MHA stuff.

Some people are saying Toshinori is a ‘bad babysitter’ for Eri while Aizawa and Mic are out fighting in the war arc. Because he’s keeping himself informed and watching the news and Eri is right next to him watching as well.

At first I was kind of shocked about it too but then I thought about it more and honestly it’s not such a big deal I think. Yeah she’s only six; but she’s probably a very mature six year old due to all the trauma she’s been through. She’s no stranger to struggle and villainy and knowing this stuff is happening in the world.

Also every able body person has been called in to help. Mirio, Deku, Mic, Aizawa, all of class 1-A. All the people she cares about and who care about her. What is he to tell her? Lie to her? Tell her they went on some sort of field trip? A grocery store run? And when or if some of them never make it back or there are parts of them missing, then what??? She’d want to know how everyone is doing even if it’s scary. As long as they are alive, seeing them give their very best. Knowing everything they sacrifice to protect the people. The full weight and realization of what heroes do.

Watch them Eri before considering becoming a hero yourself in your future if you ever decide that is the path you want.

Besides Toshi wants to stay in formed, as a citizen of the nation under attack he should. Maybe Eri doesn’t really like being alone. She’s been alone long enough. She’s rarely shown doing anything by herself no matter what it is. Someone, be it Aizawa, Mirio, or the kids from 1-A are always around. So even if she very much had the option to be alone and color while listening to music or playing with toys, she’d rather choose to be next to Toshinori while he worries and stresses about what is being reported on the tv. Maybe more for his comfort than her own. Or maybe for both their comforts.

Just imagine:

someone, whoever the high and mighty ‘I can watch children better’ try hard person coming in there accusing him of being so wrong for letting her watch the news of the war with him.

How *dare* he further ruin this child’s childhood by taking away her ignorant bliss of what is going on! What made him think this was okay!? She’s only six! And she’s already been through so much! Didn’t he see anything wrong with letting a six year old watch this violence!?

Cut to Toshinori having a very repressed but vivid memory spark up behind his eyes about when he had been Eri’s age. The government and people literally at war with everyone. Trying to control or accept quirks. People were mistreating others everywhere you turn. If you had a quirk you were a freak. No one could trust you. Almost instantly labeled as a bad person. But if you didn’t have a quirk you were weak. A ‘dying breed’. The government was too busy trying to control peoples powers and putting regulations on them they neglected to stop the social stigma and discourse in the schools, streets, and even in homes. The constant out breaks of attacks. The people caught in the cross fire. The despair he saw from both sides. And god knows whatever happened to his parents that left him replacing them with Nana and (somewhat) Torino.

He blinks away the memory and says, “No. I don’t see anything wrong with keeping her safe, loved, and informed about her new family and friends. No one did that for me when I was six.” Then he promptly leaves to silently shed a few tears and feel bad about letting Eri watch it anyway. Just a little bit at least. Because he couldn’t do anything to make it better, it’s all out of his hands now. 🥲

[flowersandbirdsflyingfree]

Well now I gotta ask further. Since Tank still gets some weekends and Holidays with his first child, do you have any headcannons for his first kid, alongside how are they with Charlotte and Lucas?? How are they with you yourself??

It’s complicated, as this child was from his old universe. But for the headcanons about his first child? It’s going to sting a lot

TW: Relationship issues, infidelity, losing family, depression

Emma Dempsey: The First Born

Her parents aren’t married. They were supposed to be out of wedlock since their short-term relationship had happened in the barracks. Her name was Jane Eisenhower, nicknamed Calamity Jane. She was the entertainer turned barracks bunny that had a fun relationship with Dempsey until they found out they were having a kid by surprise.

Tank really made an effort, and so did Jane. The first three years were mostly smooth sailing. It wasn’t until Tank realized Jane wasn’t home as often, leaving the baby to be watched at his mother’s house. What the hell?! Turns out after many cold shoulder arguments and rocky issues in their relationship, she had been cheating on him. Tank got very depressed over it and fought to take Emma with him to protect her from Jane’s irresponsibility. Unfortunately, the damn US court system is beyond corrupt. He lived separately but would get to see her on every alternate weekend and some select holidays like Easter and 4th of July. His spiteful fling of an ex-girlfriend made sure he only had Christmas eve and never the day of.

Emma was a happy girl. She had a big imagination and loved to read, draw and spend time with her father and orange tabby named Rocket. Tank encouraged his little girl to always be adventurous and to take on the world with courage. She adored the Walt Disney cartoons and always carried a Minnie Mouse around. Emma’s favorite movie was Bambi. Seeing those private cartoons Disney made in the 40s for the military men was bittersweet for Tank. Surely he’d come home to his sweet pea, right?

Unfortunately, after being captured by Group 935, the memory loss made him forget a lot of repressed trauma. It’s why he might act out without knowing why. He puts a lot of blame to Richtofen and his grand scheme being why he’s so upset. But truthfully, it’s more than that. Nobody knows what happened to the rest of the world during the apocalypse. I would’ve helped rescue Emma if I knew about her. Without our knowledge, she grows up to be apart of a tenacious zombie-fighting clan. In another world, she’s a seamstress/fashion designer for a big name company. She is very successful but doesn’t want to talk about her father at all.

What if she could meet Lucas and Charlotte somehow?

It would feel a bit weird seeing who’s essentially half-siblings at first. But Charlotte would be ultimately more outgoing and help bond with her! Emma looks up to her a lot because of her energetic, go-getter attitude towards everything (just like Papa Dempsey!) They would often draw together a lot and play with dolls. However, Emma would have to get used to how Charlotte plays with her barbies. It isn’t simple stuff like playing house, no no. Charlotte turns into barbie kung fu storylines and she also has a toy tank+GI Joes per her father’s idea. I do appreciate that he agrees there’s no restriction in playing with whatever toy you want! But Emma half the time will banter about it

Emma🐣: YOU CAN’T DO THAT! BARBIE DOESN’T DRIVE A TANK

Charlotte🍭: YES SHE DOES! SEE? ITS GREEN AND HAS STICKERS ALL OVER IT (They’re butterfly stickers)

🐣: But-but she’s supposed to bake a cake for Ken…

🍭: No she’s not!

🐣: Is too!

🍭: Is not! “Hey Ken! Girl power!” “AAAAAAAAAAA!!” *blows raspberry as she runs over the Ken doll with the toy Tiger Tank*

And the two start laughing so hard, it causes commotion

As for Lucas? We have to remind them to not forget him. But he has a lot of fun too! He is more likely to encourage his sisters to play outside with him. They will usually have bubble wands, RC Cars for racing, jump ropes and Tank bought one of these inflatable wheels. Lucas is a bit more level-headed compared to Charlotte, so he’s more likely to stop the other two from acting as chaotic catalysts for disaster. Charlotte may get mad at him for being a “tattletale.” Emma always appreciates his kindness, as he’s the one more likely to share something with her and the first to notice when she needs cheering up.

[bibibbon]

⚠️Ramble incoming⚠️

Personally, I think loid already had previous knowledge about psychology and psychiatry to begin with. Loid had to have the knowledge of those topics and in depth as it helped him truly impersonate people and helped him read people like a book. We see loid use forms of psychology in his work quite often whether that be from his quick thinking mode or how he learns to quickly impersonate and rationally guess other peoples next moves.

Throughout his years of being a spy we see that his knowledge and methods of talking to people aren't quite "normal". He seems to overanalyse everything he is given and while that has usually shown him great results while he is on missions it now creates a series of misunderstandings whenever he tries to use it with his family (especially anya and yor).

The series goes out of its way to actually show that Loid faces way less conflicts and him and his family are happier when loid actually shares things that are personal to him and from the heart. Take for example in the beginning of the series where Loid doesn't understand anya. He doesn't understand how to raise anya or properly care for her so he tries to learn by taking a ton of parenting books with him and we see how that fails. We are shown loid accepting that all he can do is help anya and raise her to the best of his abilities even if that may be a challenge. Loid recognises that he may never come to fully understand her or her antics and that parenting is completely different to his spy job. Anya is com different to the people that he meets and understands like a book, she is a child and one with many layers who will ironically be two steps ahead of loid due to her telepathic abilities.

Another example is yor. We can see that in chapter 35 Loid easily reaches for the wrong conclusion that yor has developed romantic feelings for him as to him he saw her express jealousy towards fiona but in reality yor was a lot more insecure about her role as Anya's mother and if she was even doing a good job at it. After a ruckus loid comes to realise that and we see that him being personal and having an intimate moment with yor helps their relationship a lot more then loid guessing what yor is upset about and giving her a desired answer. Ultimately, these moments help Loid break out of his spy role and job of twighlight and let the true character that he has burried within and burnt away shine. This also allows for him to make genuine connections and for him to slowly start to show the real him (fiona did point out that she could see the true characterof Loid shining through when she saw him sitting down with yor and anya)

While we do see loid analyse others with varying degrees of success this also applies to loid himself. Loid doesn't analyse himself because of his promise to burn away his identity and completely forget about the past yet he never truly did forget and has only repressed the memories as a defense mechanism.

Sure loid has told anya that he became a psychiatrist to help the veterans who suffered from the war meaning that he is probably aware of things like shell shock and ptsd yet doesn't apply it himself because

1) he doesn't want to see it or just doesn't acknowledge it

2) he believes that he may not specifically fit the category as psychology and the development of psychology in the early 1950s was still at its premature stages with inhumane practices such as elctroshock therapy going on and more.

For his character of Loid Forger, a psychiatrist, Twilight probably had to read a thousand books on psychiatry in record time and now is surrounded by real psychiatrists all the time, so is he aware that he himself meets many of the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder and other mental health problems?

like bro , is he aware that it is not normal that he is unable to hear the slightest cry of any child without becoming anxious, that he can't remember his own parents' faces, that he is so into the whole spy thing that even in his own mind he calls himself 'Twilight' and not '[Redacted]', that he gets so nervous every time Yor gets mad at him?