#they would do anything to prevent us. we are an illness
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
hypnowave · 2 years ago
Text
.
#mmm. mmmmm.#sometimes u wake up and shower and look in the mirror at your wide hips and narrow shoulders and u think#''damn this trans stuff is really delusional isn't it'' because no matter how hard you try you're never going to pass#because you can't get top surgery and can't get hormone therapy and can't safely learn to lower your voice#and you have a couple irls who know about your actual identity but you're certain they don't actually see you as male#except your sister and your best friend#you have a woman's body and a woman's voice and are living a woman's life and nothing you do seems to ever change that#it all feels so fucking pointless sometimes.#figures. one of my classmates presented her essay draft today and it was about whether or not being queer was nature or nurture#and it really hit a nerve. because people don't actually care which one it is. if it's nature then they will find this hypothetical gene#and they will purge it.#if it's nurture then they will do anything to stop the ''gay agenda'' because lgbtq+ behavior is deviant behavior and is therefore immoral#they would do anything to prevent us. we are an illness#i'm so tired. so fucking tired. i know i'm not male and i know i'll never be male and i wish i could just accept that#idk why i keep clinging to the notion that i am male . what's all this for?#i choose to carry this burden as if i'll get anything out of it. as if my time and energy wasn't needed elsewhere#my work. my final paper. my health. i'm so tired#i just wish i could stop caring.#jun.log#negative
8 notes · View notes
todayisafridaynight · 1 year ago
Text
rgg can have a You Did The Bare Minimum award for keepin jo alive and not continuin the trend of one-shottin every interestin antag we meet but they esp deserve it cause lettin jo live the rest of his days in guilt and shame without the power to do anythin is pretty thematically consistent for him. if i may be insane to say.
#snap chats#Stream Of Consciousness dont look at me im rambling#EW this text post is longer than a tweet thats disgusting#i never even tweet outside of art on twitter. ok i do on my personal but i barely post there outside of qrting stuff lmao#In Any Case. i do have an essay on my dome about shame/guilt and jo i aint gon lie#thats been brewing for a while cause like.... lol..... lmao perhaps....#ill just keep it short and sweet rn cause my brain just aint fucntionin how the fuck is it 10pm hold on (;´д`)#anyway Speedrun Version of what im thinkin tonight#jo's greatly motivated by the guilt he feels for his irresponsibility debilitating masato#he does all he can for him in an attempt to atone for that#but despite those attempts he still shoulders that never-ending guilt#despite those attempts i think its a fair wager to suggest he probably thinks there isnt anything he could do to properly atone#but he at least can and does still try right. this comes back to him going to jail i promise#beforehand jo /felt/ as though he was powerless to do anything- in prison he's /physically/ incapable of doing anything of use anymore#or. he's at least incredibly limited. the most he can do is tell ichi past info but Specifics right#moreover both the arakawas are gone: even if jo was free he still would have no conceivable way of 'redeeming himself'#esp in the case of arakawa that feeling of guilt is worse: this is another case that he arguably couldve prevented#obvi with masato that one is more sure He Definitely Could Have Prevented This but Specifics 2x right we know what im saying#my words are muddy but i hope we know what i mean. in prison all he can do is think and be left with his feelings#all he can do is stew in his regret and guilt. its like. Thematically the perfect consequence for him#like again One Thing to let him live but it also just so happens to play into that eternal guilt/utter powerlessness so well#this type of thing is going to decay my brain until LAD8 comes out and all of this is undone somehow but for now.... i love his misery...#ok this is the only vaguely. I Thought For More Than Three Miliseconds Today post youre gonna get im going back to being stupid
9 notes · View notes
opens-up-4-nobody · 2 years ago
Text
...
#i was supposed to spend the last 2 days prepping and relaxing for the start of this big project tomorrow#but ive spent thr last 2 days frantically coding as fast as i could and focusing v hard to get a lot of bullshit done#and ive fixed things since yesterday. the changes i had to make were too too bad bc the thing that went wrong was so fucking weird#but it should be okay by tomorrow. knock on wood. but this does mean ive done fuck all to prep for tomorrow#so we r winging it bby. ugh. just gotta fucking pray that everything goes ok. pls let nothing b broken and let everything seal properly 🙏#i was also supposed to meet with my boss today. probably for her to make sure i dont fuck up this project but apparently their safety hood#was having an emergency... whatever that means. so im sure shes having a week as well. and im free to fuck everything up for everyone#ugh. im so. theres a certain point in burning out where youre not really in pain anymore. you dont really feel anything all your joy and#hope dissolves away and u just exist to be useful. and i feel like its easier to maintain that than trying to b happy#i do not advise that bc its a fucking miserable. wasteful way to live but i dont really have time to try for anything better#god. i really hope my measurements friday dont take a full 8hrs. i dont know if i can handle that. literally i would have stay intensely#focused with my brain being Interrupted every 5min so i can manually record data points. its gonna b agony#so that fun. but maybe it wont. maybe itll be great and fun and ill have a wonderful time. seems unlikely but ya never kno#lets not think abt the fact that having to rush all this is preventing me from being able to do all thr other bullshit i need to get done#to prepare for the future. future? what future? hard to imagine from the bottom of this pit im digging myself#sigh. in a few months i can leave this place and never come back. soon but not soon enough#lol i was literally crying listening to cold play earlier bc idk thats the type of music my parents would put on at parties in summertime#so it evokes a v specific mood. which is i guess me hiding away from ppl at parties haha#back when i didnt have to worry abt things so much and i could just listen to the frogs chirping and watch the fireflies#oh god. now my boss is asking if i reached out for help tomorrow. no. lady i would rather drink bleach than have to direct an undergrad#tomorrow. its 10pm im fucking tired. just let me be sad. did i reach our for help? no my brain is on fire#tomorrow is gonna b a long day ugh#unrelated
7 notes · View notes
quecksilvereyes · 1 year ago
Text
oh my god do not click links in emails that tell you to verify your data or your bank account gets locked or click links in messages telling you your safety protocol is ending, like, tomorrow, you will get SCAMMED SO BAD AND YOU WILL LOSE A LOT OF FUCKING MONEY never ever let anyone pressure you into giving away login information especially to your online banking by creating a sense of urgency oh my GOD
some things to look out for
1. spelling mistakes. do you know how many rounds of marketing and sales experts these things go through? if theres a spelling mistake dont click it
2. not using your name. if an email adresses you with "dear customer" or, even worse, a generic "ladies and gentlemen", it is most likely not actually targeted to you
3. verifying or login links. even IF your bank was stupid enough to send these to customers, dont EVER click those. look at me. they can legally argue that youve given your data away and thus they dont have to pay you anything back DONT CLICK THAT FUCKING LINK
4. creating a sense of urgency. do this or we lock your account next week. do this or your ebanking stops working tomorrow. give us all your money in cash or your beloved granddaughter will get HANGED FOR MURDERING BABIES. no serious organisation would ever do something like that over email or sms. ever. hands off.
5. ALWAYS CHECK WHO SENT YOU THE EMAIL. the display name and the email adress can vary a LOT. anyone can check the display name. look at the email adress. does it look weird? call the fucking place it says its from. you will likely hear a very weary sigh.
6. if its in a phonecall, scammers love preventing you from hanging up or talking to other people to have a little bit of a think about whats happening. there should always be a possibility to go hey i wanna think about this ill call back the official number thanks.
7. do not, i repeat, do NOT a) call a phone number flashing on your screen promising to rid your computer of viruses after clicking a dodgy link and b) let them install shit on your computer like. uh. idk. teamviewer.
7.i. TEAM VIEWER LETS PEOPLE USE YOUR COMPUTER HOWEVER THEY WANT AS LONG AS THEYRE CONNECTED. IF YOU DONT KNOW FOR FUCKING SURE YOURE TALKING TO ACTUAL TECH SUPPORT DONT GIVE ANYONE ACCESS TO YOUR COMPUTER.
fun little addendum: did you know a link can just automatically download shit? like. a virus? an app you can't uninstall unless you reset your entire device? dont click links unless youre extremely sure you know where they lead. hover your mouse over it and check the url.
thanks.
17K notes · View notes
larluce · 10 months ago
Text
Arthur travels back in time to save Merlin (from becoming a tree) AU
LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART2 (You're here) , PART 3
The king of Camelot goes to visit his magic tree before his next battle. This isn't new. He always visits it. But it will be the last time he does it.
Arthur: (caressing the bark of the tree with a hand)It's finally time. I'm sorry it took so long. (sighs) And I'm sorry I have to do this.
He knows he's being selfish. Camelot is better than ever, his people is happy and yet he's going to war, risking this era of peace. A war he knows he won't come back from. But it's necessary.
Gwen: (arriving) Arthur...
Arthur: I won't change my mind, Guinivere
Gwen: I know. I just want to understand. Arthur, why? The price is too high and the chance it might work too slim. And even if it does work, you are risking that everything you know, everything you built will never happen.
Arthur: It's a risk I'm willing to take. I can prevent so many things from happening, not only Merlin's fate, but Gawain's, Elyan's, Lancelot's-
Gwen: Don't pretend you're not doing this just for him, Arthur, I'm not a fool.
Arthur: ...
Gwen: He wouldn't want you to do this. And you know it.
Arthur: Yeah, well, he didn't care about what I wanted when he made that stupid deal.
It's been ten years since Merlin saved his life and was cursed to be a tree forever as a payback. He was now a majestic beautiful tree in the royal garden and the most valuable national treasure in Camelot due to its magical properties: It could give fruits with the ability to cure all ills and the most serious wounds, but also could give ones with the most letal poison. Its wood was the finest. Once it let some branches fall for its king before an important battle and the weapons that were made with them are still as good as new to this day. Though Arthur did his part, he knows Camelot probably would not have obtained the title of the greatest, richest and most prosperous kingdom if it weren't for his Merlin.
However, not everything was sunshine and rainbows. Like every treasure it was also coveted by everyone who wanted to use it for their own selfish purposes. Kingdoms envious of his power sent spies to try to steal its fruits, its branches and even to try to cut it down to leave Camelot defenseless. Others even tried to invade Camelot just to posses the magic tree, but Camelot's army was the strongest in all Albion so they never could and soon they stopped trying.
There was a time they almost got too close though. Once Arthur found a man holding an ax stuck deep in Merlin's trunk. He has gone so mad with fury, he almost beat the man to death if it weren't because his knights stopped him before he made the final blow. He was still livid after that, but he let Gwen handle the man's trial, because he knew he wouldn't be reasonable in the state he was in. In the end the man was sentenced to beheading. It was what the law decreed since touching the King's tree was by law an act of treason. The king who sent the spy had to make a public apology and give monetary compensation to avoid a war. Arthur did make sure the spy's head was cut of with his own ax though. Later, when he was alone with his tree, Arthur cried because he almost lost Merlin again. The king apologised to him over and over again between sobs and cried until he fell asleep at the tree's roots.
It was then when it hit him. One day he would die and there won't be anyone to protect Merlin from greedy people who will only use his power for their own gains. Merlin would be at his new owner's mercy and the one after that, and the one after that, forever without being able to do anything about it. The mere thought made Arthur sick to his stomach.
No, he won't allow that to happen.
Gwen: (with teary eyes) Aren't we happy?
Arthur: Don't say that. You have always made me happy.
Gwen: (laughs weakely) But he made you happier, didn't he?
Arthur: ...
Gwen: You never told me. Which were Merlin's last words.
Arthur: I love you... he said I love you.
Gwen: Oh... (smiles) I get it now. Alright I'll help you. Just promise me something.
Arthur: Anything.
Gwen: Don't feel bad if you can't prevent other people from dying. In fact, you don't have to do it. Just save Merlin.
Arthur: But-
Gwen: No, you have done so much for this kingdom and sacrifice so much. (cradling his face) You owe us nothing and you owe me nothing, alright? Just be happy.
They hugged each other tightly and they share their last kiss and I love you before Arthur finally went to bloodiest battle he'll ever had in his life. And, after killing 100 hundred enemy soldiers with his blade, the king of Camelot died at the early age of forty.
Later Percival and Leon retrieve the king's corpse and bring it before their queen who doesn't share a tear despite being broken inside. She orders for his late husband to be buried next to his tree instead of burned in a pyre, proclaming that's what the king would have wanted. The real reason however is more complex than that.
The night after the funeral, she secretly brings the druids her husband consorted for years to the royal garden for the ritual to be made. Before the tree, as was planned, is the Ancient Round Table of the Ancient Kings.
Druid1: A sword with the blood of 300 hundred man.
Gwen: (gives excalibur to him)
Druid2: Three dragon scales.
Percival: (gives them to her)
Druid3: And the corpse of a king. We have everything.
Leon: Will this really work?
Druid1: This ritual had only worked once in the times of the ancient kings and only because it was done by three of the most powerful sorcerers of that time. We are not that powerful.
Druid2: However, we have a great magic source (she points the tree). So it might work.
It worked! That's Arthur's first thought when he opens his eyes again and finds himself in his room 20 years younger.
....
HIII!! First of all I want to thank you all for giving the first post so much love! I was truly shocked because I didn't think the AU was that good, so I'm really glad you liked it. I hope this kind of sequel/prequel? was of your liking too.
I don't think I'm going to make this a full fic yet, but I can make snippets like this about this AU until then.
What else would like to see happening in this AU? Let me know in the comments or reblogs ;)
681 notes · View notes
nolovelingers · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
WHEN THEY’RE JEALOUS ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚
⋆ ★ movies :: scream ,, scream v ,, scream vi
characters used ᝰ.ᐟ billy loomis / stu macher / sidney prescott / wes hicks / ethan kirsch (landry) / tara carpenter / mindy meeks martin / chad meeks martin
🎧 cw — jealousy (obvi) ,, violence and dark themes (only for the ghost faces) ,, possessiveness ,, gn!reader except for stu and mindys part !!!
——————————————————————————
ೄྀ࿐ BILLY LOOMIS ˊˎ-
billy doesn’t really get jealous often. he’s extremely self-confident in himself and knows that there really is no one better than him. he knows you wouldn’t dare leave him for another, but that doesn’t stop the occasional feeling of possessiveness creeping through his mind at the sight of seeing you with another guy.
he definitely doesn’t mention it to you, not wanting you to know that the sight got to him, even if it was only slightly, and resorts to sending a glare in the person of interests direction when you’re not facing him. the second you turn around he gives you a sweet toothy smile, both cunning and sly all the same and he makes sure to lock eyes with the person while bringing you in for a deep kiss, hand gripping your face securely as if you were a possession.
and of course, he’d send stu to kill the person later that night; not feeling like their death was worth his own time.
彡 “billy, hey.” turning to greet your boyfriend with a chastened and quick kiss to his mouth, he hums, savoring the feeling of your lips moving against his that was all too short in his opinion.
“hey doll.” the corners of his mouth itched up, a smirk creasing over his face that held mischief, a dark sense of playful fun as he observed you, eyes quickly flicking from you to the boy you were currently talking to. he looked at the kid for not longer than a few seconds before returning his stone cold gaze back to you, like the man wasn’t good enough for his eyes to settle on.
“who you talking to?” he asks, only a hint of actual curiosity lingering in his voice, meeting your eyes with his and wrapping an arm around your lower body.
“oh, this is daniel. he’s in my history class.”
billy hums, returning his eyes back to the boy, who’s name was apparently daniel, in an almost predatory way. daniel felt unease through his veins as the loomis boy studied him, and smiled a bit. “nice to meet you.” he said, and billy nodded with a straight face, suddenly holding out his hand to shake. daniel accepted the gesture, loosely shaking his hand but finding himself wincing a bit at the intensity of the blonde haired boys grip.
“im billy. (y/n)‘s boyfriend.” quick to annunciate the boyfriend bit, daniel took the hint, gulping but nodding in understandment.
“alright well, i gotta run. ill see you tomorrow.” excusing himself from the conversation, daniel walks away from the scene, shaking his hand a bit as a way to soothe some of the pain from the hand crushing grip billy had him in; and you were completely oblivious as billy smirked in victory, guiding you back to the school parking lot and quickly taking out his flip phone to text stu about their next possible victim.
ೄྀ࿐ STU MACHER ˊˎ-
unlike billy, stu is an extremely jealous cretin who quickly doubts himself when it comes to his worth in the relationship. after his very first girlfriend, casey becker, left him in the snap of her fingers for a jock, he was left to be decently insecure.
he would do anything to prevent you from having any male interaction and if he could he would have a camera on you at all times to watch you go about your day and see how you’re interacting with others who aren’t him. when he actually witnesses you talking to a guy, he’s quick to jump in.
he’s not subtle at all about it and immediately gets very touchy with you, kissing your cheek and neck in front of the dude as a ‘joke’ and goes out of his way to mock and make fun of the person in question. he will whine and beg you to leave and once you’re away from the person he asks you millions of questions, especially whether or not you were attracted to them.
just like billy, he wants the person dead and for the rest of the day all he can think about is ripping their intestines out and crucifying them to a wall. his imagination runs wild with all the ways he wanted to kill him. he asks billy about it, but billy couldn’t be bothered to care that much and unless it was really, genuinely bothering stu he’d tell him to take care of it himself. after the first three guys billy had helped stu kill all cause of his jealousy, he couldn’t be bothered anymore and he knew you would start to get suspicious. every guy you talked to was disappearing at this rate.
彡 “hey babe, who’s this?” stu jogs up to you from behind, almost crashing into your back as he slings an arm around your shoulder lazily and looks at you with a shit eating grin.
“jackson.” the man introduces himself before you can to the macher killer, and stu swivels his head to the boy. his jealousy only furthering deeper as he noticed the man to be wearing a school football uniform, a jock.
“aww, i wasn’t asking you, jason.” stu’s face falls completely and you turn to him with a devastated look, feeling embarrassed in front of your classmate. “i was asking my beautiful girlfriend.” he pulls you closer to him, his big signature wide mouth smile making its way back over his face. “dont you think she’s beautiful? isn’t she just so pretty? come on jerry you can be honest, my girlfriends hot, isn’t she?” the boys tone had drastically went from playful to deadly, like he was testing him
“stu macher, this is my english teachers teaching assistant!” you warn, your face flushing a red color at stu’s outburst but your boyfriend doesn’t seem to care at all as he doesn’t even look at you, taking a bit of a step closer to the jock.
“oh, so you’re smart then, huh? well, clearly not that much, wearing something as tacky as that. you get dressed in the dark this morning?” he sticks his tongue out, laughing at his own joke and apparently thinking it was the funniest thing in the world as he starts to giggle with a crazed look in his eye, and though jackson felt offended and wanted nothing more than to step forward and suckerpunch macher right in the face, something about the way his eyes held mania and instability freaked the jock out.
he scoffed, rolling his eyes and walking away from the couple. jackson doesn’t even make it three feet away and you can’t get the words out to scold your boyfriend for his behavior before he’s turning you to face him and holding both your shoulders, a serious look on his face.
“babe, be honest with me, did you think he’s cute?”
ೄྀ࿐ SIDNEY PRESCOTT ˊˎ-
sidney was a fairly innocent girl who wasn’t used to all the feelings that came along in a relationship, and she never could quite put a label on the word she felt when she saw you talking to other girls. not every girl, just the ones who in her own eyes were particularly pretty or were openly flirty.
she found it hard to trust again after her last relationship, obviously not ending well since he killed all/most her friends and then tried to go after her, but after some time once she started to heal and you showed her love and how a healthy relationship should look and act she was quick to ease into the breath of fresh air you gave her.
she pouts a bit when she’s jealous, and she doesn’t make too big of a deal out of it. depending on her scale of jealousy she’d either mention it briefly to you so you could reassure her or she’d just make sure to be extra lovey with you the rest of the day to earn more of your love and give you extra of hers.
unlike stu or billy she doesn’t make herself present in the conversation, she’ll usually glance from a distance and maybe bring it up to her friends to ask about the girl you were talking to. not that she’d do anything with the information anyway. if she ends up meeting the girl, whether it’s while she’s with you or running into her when it’s just the two of them, she’s very friendly and would even try befriending the person to see the kind of people you surround yourself with.
彡 sidney watched from a short distance the interaction you shared with a girl who’s face was unfamiliar to her. she stood by her locker, face half hidden by the door and taking a glance in your direction every couple minutes.
she couldn’t deny that there was something about seeing you talk to another girl who in her mind was one of the most gorgeous people she’s ever seen, definitely far prettier than her, making her stomach twist and turn with uneasiness.
gnawing her lip a bit she tried to pay no mind to it, being respectful as she waited for you to finish your conversation so you could walk home together like you usually do. her patience worked as it often did, and within minutes she felt your hands snake around her back, and a sweet kiss being pressed to her temple. “hey sid.” you greeted, and she hummed, leaning her weight back into your arms.
“hi.” her voice rasped, a soft and gentle whisper and a smile made its way to her features while she turned around to face you, holding her hand out for you to take, which you gladly did.
“ready to go?”
“yeah.” she smiled, and you briskly leaned in to connect your lips with hers. her heart fluttered at the action and all her worries melted away. there was no reason to be jealous, she was definitely overreacting. she trusted you and the love you had for her.
ೄྀ࿐ WES HICKS ˊˎ-
by nature, wes was a very trusting and caring person. he’s gotten jealous maybe a total of two times throughout your entire relationship. he may have occasional worries, but it’s not typically jealousy he feels. he gets more insecure than he does jealous and reflects it on himself; wondering if he’s really good enough to be your boyfriend.
he is often very protective over you and while there are times you notice his body tense or a light touch of his hand pressed to the small of your back it’s not really jealousy he’s feeling, growing up in a household where his mother is a cop he was raised to be on high alert at all times; afraid a guy might do something to mess with you or make you uncomfortable.
however, on the very very few occasions where it’s jealousy he’s feeling rather than simple protectiveness, he seems to go eerily quiet. his eyes dart back and fourth from your face to the persons, studying your interaction and the body language you’re giving off. if asked about it he’ll brush it off as nothing and force a reassuring smile that fades the second you look away and forms again when you look back.
he won’t mention it ever again and within a few hours he’s back to his normal self. but unless you’re able to notice his jealousy the second it starts, he’s not one to talk or ask about it.
彡 the sun was shining down on the both of you as you sat outside against the tree located right outside tara’s house. you had made plans with all of your friends to have a big hangout and like usual you and your boyfriend had strayed off from the rest of the group to have some alone time.
wes was always huge on private intimacy and liked it better when it was just the two of you. not anything against his friends, he loved all of them, it was just nice to spend time with just his partner. mindy, tara and chad payed no attention as the couple wondered off outside and perched themselves against a woodsy tree. wes had his back completely against the tree, legs widened while you sat between them, your back on his chest and his head on his shoulder while he held onto your body with protective arms; his muscles flexing against you.
you were laughing at something the bleached-haired boy had said when your alone time was cut short, the sound of a door opening and chad stepping outside.
“what’re you two losers doing?” he asked, a teasing lopsided grin on his face as he approached you two after closing the door.
“hey chad, just hanging out.” you greet him with a smile and wes greets him with a ‘hey’ as well, still keeping his arms secured around you.
“mind if i join you? those two girls are kind of driving me crazy right now.” he chuckles, sitting down in front of the both of you and not paying any mind to the fact that you were both cuddled up. “(y/n), you should’ve stayed inside. mindy started recreating a scene from the mummy, it was sorta funny but made me concerned about my relations to her.” you don’t question why chad had aimed the conversation towards you but it’s enough for wes’ jaw to clench against your shoulder before he brought his head up all together and off of you.
“really? wow, im sorry i missed it.” you laugh a bit and chad smiles and laughs with you as you do. you wish you could see your boyfriends face right now as he then removed his arms from around you as well, but since you were sitting up against him you couldn’t turn around and see without making it obvious.
you try not to pay any attention to his sudden change in behavior as you continue making friendly banter with chad, noticing wes completely going mute until he dismisses himself with a toothless smile and a small apology, going back inside and leaving you and chad alone and confused.
ೄྀ࿐ ETHAN LANDRY ˊˎ-
ethan gets jealous over you almost every other day, sometimes just by simply thinking about you with someone else. he doesn’t even have to see you talk to someone, or flirt, or interact; he often accidentally makes himself jealous at the idea of being jealous. when he’s jealous he then gets flustered, and has no idea how to express the way he’s feeling.
when he actually sees someone flirting with you though, it ignites a fire in him that would sometimes scare himself. obviously he’s a violent guy, but when it comes to a potential threat between your relationship it only intensifies. he’d kill the person in the most brutal way imaginable, even torturing or fucking with them before hand.
assuming you don’t yet know about his ghostface identity, he’s still the sweet, awkward and adorable ethan youve grown to know and love. in the moment he won’t do much about it, maybe standing behind you and locking eye contact with the person, resting a hand on your hip with fragility and having mock friendliness. the second they leave though is when he gets more vocal about it, pestering you with questions and dread spilling throughout his body the more he thinks about it.
however if you were already aware of his identity he wouldn’t bother to hide his disdain, looking at the mystery person with pure unfiltered disgust and hatred as he kept you close to him and dismissed you from the conversation himself. if they dared to try and intervene or call him out on his behavior they’d better prepare for a good beating, he wouldn’t hesitate before pushing them to the ground and kicking them in the stomach and all over their body repeatedly like a typical 80s bully. he’d come back for the final kill another time when you weren’t with him.
彡 “can we go? im tired.” a very grumpy brunette mumbled from his spot next to you, defensively staring at the male you were talking to. an ‘old friend’ of yours.
“one second e,” you dismissed him without so much as a glance, continuing in your conversation with the guy in front of you. he was maybe 5’10, dark brown hair and hazel green eyes that ethan imagined running red with blood and tears. ethan could definitely take him in a fight.
he was quiet for about a whole minute before he sighs, rather loudly, glancing around the room and waiting for you to notice him. when you don’t face him at his first sigh, ethan let’s out a second huff of air, louder this time.
and you ignore him again. and he sighs again. and again. and agai-
“ethan, i swear to god.” you lecture, finally turning to face him and the guy in front of you laughs a bit at the two of you, which only makes ethan feel angrier.
“im tired. please can we go. pleasee!” he whines, articulating his best puppy dog eyes as he bats his long and dark lashes at you. and of course it works, it always does.
you agree, waving your friend goodbye who understands and sends you off with a smile. as you walk back to your dorms the questions finally roll in.
who was that guy? where’d you meet? did he go to school with the both of you? how long have you known him? what’s his relationship with his family like? do you think hes funny?
you humor him as much as you can before the questions start to get more and more invasive and you finally shut him down, leaving him with a pout as he sadly stares at the floor, making you feel bad and quickly cupping his face and peppering kisses all over. he smiles finally.
by the end of the day, none of the questions actually mattered. ethan decided already the second you approached him that he was a dead man.
ೄྀ࿐ TARA CARPENTER ˊˎ-
contrary to popular belief, tara could actually get jealous quite frequently. though it’s not as often as others on the list, she’s lost a good amount of people in her life and isn’t about to risk loosing the few she now has left.
when she’s jealous she can get snappy as well as sarcastic, to both you and the person she’s feeling jealous of. it’s either that, or she’s just sickeningly nice to both of you to mask her feelings. so sweet in fact that it’s mostly taken as being mocked by the one on the receiving end, which is usually what it is anyway.
she’ll stand by you as you converse, her arms crossed defensively and an rbf like you’ve never seen, but if you try to leave the conversation or ask her if something’s up she’ll tell you to just keep talking to the other person in an annoyed voice.
彡 “you’re so funny!” you blush a bit, embarrassed by the sudden compliment and attention you were receiving from the girl in front of you that originally only approached you for a question she had about the homework in the math class you shared.
“you’re SO funny!” behind you, an annoyed tara mocks the girl, raising her voice to sound high pitched and squeaky as she defensively held her arms crossed against her chest.
“tara,” you mumble, glancing at her expectantly and she sends you a glare, huffing and turning her head away from the both of you.
the girl in front of you awkwardly scratches her head and you give her a sympathetic smile. “thank you maria. ill see you tomorrow.” she nods, sending you an appreciative smile back before glancing at your girlfriend for a second and then quickly away as she realizes the girl was already glaring in her direction before walking away from the two of you.
you sigh, turning to face your girlfriend who still looks pissed off, a grouchy look on her face and arms crossed as she meets your eyes. “tara.” you repeat her name, saying so many things without saying another word. she sighs, dropping her arms back to her sides and looking away from you now in a bit of embarrassment.
“sorry.” she mutters, not meeting your eyes.
“no you’re not.”
she smirks a little. “no im not.”
ೄྀ࿐ MINDY MEEKS MARTIN ˊˎ-
( ↺ please only read mindys if you identify as female !! )
mindy isn’t often the jealous type and doesn’t really see many people if any at all as a threat to her. especially for no reason. the only exception for her small bursts of jealousy is when someone knows you’re dating and still goes out of their way to make a move on you.
when this happens she gets rather ticked off, probably yelling at or lecturing the person for trying to hit on someone while knowing they’re in a happy relationship. and she’ll really specify that happy bit as if to rub it in their face.
her fits don’t last very long and though she may continue to pout over it for maybe 10 minutes max afterwards all it takes is a little reassuring and she’s back to her usual self. all in all, if she’s jealous she’ll speak out about it herself.
彡 “mindy, look at me.” you instruct your girlfriend, who in fact does not look at you as she zones off into the distance with an aggravated expression.
“i do not understand how some people have the nerve. i mean seriously, she knew you had a girlfriend, she knew that girl was me, and she still went out of her way to flirt with you.” rambling on, you’re unable to get the short haired girl’s attention as she’s lost in thought.
“mindy, will you look at me?” you repeat, currently crouched down in front of her while she rocked back and fourth on a recliner.
“it’s just- it’s so frustrating! she’s such a- a- a snake!” this emits a soft chuckle to part from your lips and you finally decide to just make your girlfriend look at you instead of desperately calling out for her which didn’t seem to be working.
“i love you.” you affirm, cupping the both of her cheeks. the martin girl blushes a bit, taken off guard.
“what?”
“i love you.”
“i love you too, baby.” she smiles, and you lean up to initiate a soft kiss, her current thoughts pausing temporarily.
by the time you pull away she’s looking at you like you’re the only thing left in the world, cheekily smiling while you continue holding her face in your hands.
“sorry for making a scene back there.” she apologies, referring to back when the entire situation went down and she ended up yelling at the girl who was trying to make a move on you in the first place.
“it’s okay. it was cute. turned me on a little.”
“oh yeah?”
“yeah.” you giggled, and mindy was fast to forget about the entire situation as her priorities shifted entirely to you.
ೄྀ࿐ CHAD MEEKS MARTIN ˊˎ-
depending on how long the two of you have been together is how chad would go about handling his own jealousy. if the relationship is fairly new or it’s only in the talking stage, he’s the type to go flirt with someone else to make you jealous back, even though you weren’t doing it intentionally.
if you’re about 3 months or so into the relationship though or if he’d liked you for a really long time he wouldn’t resort to that. instead he’d try his best to intimidate the person, keep an arm around you and amplify his personality.
he’d constantly interrupt the two of you rather rudely and make his own conversation, add his own thoughts or ask random questions to the stranger. he’s shameless about it too and does it all with a smile. he’d be friendly enough to the person, trying to make his own opinion on them.
would definitely be unnecessarily affectionate, holding your hand and pressing kisses to the back of your palm or making you randomly sit on one of his legs while bouncing you up and down.
彡 you groaned a bit, your boyfriend now interrupting the conversation for what felt like the twentieth time as he continued to make his presence known, both arms hung over your shoulders as he has you pressed into his chest and his head hovering over yours.
“chad, honey, what are you doing?” you finally ask, excusing yourself for a moment from your friend to talk privately.
“what?” he feigns obliviousness, a knowing smirk on his face as he reached his hands out for you again, pulling you closer to him and resting his hands on your waist.
“you know what.” you sigh, hating the fact you were already trying to fight back a smile the boy made contort on your face.
“just tryna get to know your friends.” he shrugged, leaning a little closer to you. “seeing what’s up. making sure there’s no competition.”
you roll your eyes, finally a small laugh leaving your lips.
“but chad, i get doing that to my guy friends, i guess, but do you really have to do that to the girls too?”
“what? my sisters gay, im just being precautious. nothing unusual.” he shrugged innocently and you smiled as he pulled you into a hug.
“wait, you have guy friends?”
.ೃ࿐ a/n : this took so long to finish , towards the last couple the quality kinda worsened cause i spent all day writing these and finished those ones at night
started 08.05.23. finished 08.05.23.
( scream masterlist )
©️nolovelingers 2023
2K notes · View notes
philosophiums · 2 months ago
Text
Megumi Rant bc I'm So Tired
I was gonna talk about 271 and the ending chapters of JJK in general, specifically focusing on how Shonen Jump puts a hard end date on each series it publishes (which are based on conversations with the mangakas, sure, but with no leeway once it’s determined because SJ wants to keep cycling through new publications in order to keep making money - and those hard line end dates cannot possibly account for, say, sudden illness that would prevent a mangaka from releasing a chapter) and how it’s the best end to the series that many fans could have asked for given that info, but I’m tired and I don’t feel like yelling at a wall, so here’s a rebuttal aimed at a lot of Megumi hot takes™ I’ve seen since, really, 269 dropped.
Obligatory thing up front bc I know the JJK fandom hates reading and critical thought more than anything in the world, and that it operates on a very "but what about me" mentality: It's totally fine if you are dissatisfied with JJK in general or even just the ending. It's totally fine if you have mixed feelings about the way the story was wrapped up. It's totally fine if you think it could have been handled better even given the above information in the link above on how SJ operates. I'm not telling you to feel a certain way, but I'm walking you through the end of the story (read: Megumi's character specifically) bc I am so fucking tired of reading bad takes about "Gege hating Megumi" or whatever.
Holding everyone's hands as I go through these. Let's take these steps in shedding directionless rage together.
(Forewarning that this is long as hell. Gomen.)
Common Argument Number 1: Megumi didn’t have a character arc/didn't grow as a character
The first thing that needs to be understood to realize why this is wrong is that all of the characters in JJK have arcs based around power - gaining it, losing it, being overwhelmed by it, and so on. This is not new information as of the last few chapters; we've known for years now that JJK isn't a story that's focused on deep introspection nor prolonged emotional development. Power. Cursed Techniques. That's where Gege kept his focus. However, it's impossible to write a story with heavy themes of loss and fear and love without touching into a character's emotions at all, some of which become central enough to turn into arcs. (We'll circle back to this in just a moment.) The second thing that needs to be understood here is that, in the general sense of All Media (and not just JJK), not all character arcs have to span the entire length of a story. A full and complete character arc (which is to say, the movement that happens while a character is actively changing) can happen in half of a story or less, and it is no less satisfying for having done so. Now, what does all of that have to do with Megumi? Very explicitly, it means that Megumi not only experiences growth as a character, but that he also goes through not one, but two character arcs. ((He's not the only character with two arcs, but he's the reason for this post, so you guys can track down the others on your own.)) Both of his arcs are complete, in my opinion, even if they're not 100% satisfying. But satisfaction isn't the argument here, so we can touch on that later. Maybe. Megumi's first arc (his power arc) starts right out of the gate, but it doesn't begin to take shape until the chapters at the detention center (I would argue it specifically starts to become an "arc" [which is to say, experiences movement] right at the point where Yuuji dies - this is the inciting incident in Megumi's story), and it concludes during the Culling Games (the exact place of it's conclusion is a little waffle-y for me but it's between either the moment he is able to use his technique to beat someone solo within the depths of his shadows OR the exact moment that Sukuna looks at him and thinks that he's strong enough now to be Sukuna's vessel). This arc follows Megumi coming to terms with the reality that if he wants to save people, he needs to get stronger and he needs to get more in touch with the side of himself that is/creates his CT. And he accomplishes that. Is there more growth in this department that he could have had? Yes, absolutely. Taming Mahoraga, a fully realized domain expansion, etc. All of that could have happened, but none of that needs to happen in order for this arc to be complete. He sought power, he got power, and he used it to save people. That's a fully realized and completed arc. Megumi's second arc (his emotional arc) happens during the time Sukuna is wearing him like a suit. This arc has nothing at all to do with anything that happens before this point in time (it has nothing to do with power, nothing to do with fighting, nothing to do with saving people). Before this, Megumi's emotional state is fairly stagnant; any goals and/or momentum that he has outside of wanting to become stronger are usually skipped over or not acknowledged at all. Once his bodily autonomy is stripped from him, all that's left is emotion. And we get to see a complete emotional arc here - starting in stagnation, inciting incident of being possessed, and then the slow chipping away of his resolve as Sukuna kills his sister and performs a ritual to suppress Megumi's soul completely. Megumi is at his lowest point here, but he overcomes it and chooses to live. That's a complete arc. That's a conclusion. No amount of wanting him to mourn Gojo or of wishing for This, That, or The Other things change the fact that his arcs do in fact reach natural conclusions within the story.
Common Argument Number 2: Megumi didn't have a satisfying conclusion
I think this argument is a bit of a pull from a misunderstanding that revolves around argument number one. People are looking for an arc that is wrapping up in the final chapters, and they're upset that they're not finding it. And the reason they're not finding it is because, as mentioned above, Megumi's arcs concluded before he regained consciousness post-Shinjuku. Also, this may come as a shock to some people, but "satisfying" is relative. Which also means that I can't exactly argue against what people are feeling, because in this specific instance, it's all feelings based. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to try!! I already covered that Megumi fully concluded both of his arcs, so it's not that he's lacking in power or emotional development. I think what people get stuck on is what Megumi says before he begins to fight back against Sukuna: that he wants to try to live for someone else. A lot of readers seem to take this as a step backwards for him, a return to who he was before everything in the story, but I disagree. I think it's actually a large step forward for him and, beyond that, I think it's realistic beyond simply satisfying the narrative. At the beginning of the story, Megumi is living for nothing. It's common for the fandom to think he's living for Tsumiki, but she's fully comatose and cursed; I doubt that he's living for her. At most he's living just in case a miracle happens and she wakes up, but that's not living for her. He's in what I think of as a transitional space, and he's stuck there. He's the only one in his year at Jujutsu Tech, he's not trying to develop his CT, he's just existing - going on missions and rolling his eyes at Gojo and doing school work. At the end of the story, Megumi actively chooses life. He had a way out, he felt that in many ways he was already dead - or at the very least, that he was irredeemable and better off dead. But he chooses to live. He chooses to fight back. And, more than that, he chooses to become an active participant in life. Yes, for him that means living for Yuuji, but even that still requires wanting to keep going, wanting to keep putting one foot in front of the other. He wants to face the world and all it has to offer - despite all the bad, and maybe in spite everything he went through. That's a satisfying character conclusion in my eyes. Everyone wants realistic representation of the struggle surrounding mental illness and how victories with them are not as "grand" as for neurotypical people until they're actually presented with realistic representation. Then all of a sudden it's "bad writing" and "unsatisfying" because the character didn't end the story without any gaps or holes and with a perfect little bow wrapped around their neck. God forbid there be an implication that a character gets to continue to live and grow beyond the last page. Anyway, just because he didn't have the conclusion you wanted for him that you built up in your head after years of living with the fanon version of Megumi you created doesn't mean his conclusion was bad or unsatisfying.
Common Argument Number 3: Megumi's characterization went right back to how it was during the Culling Game arc
...Duh??? I mean... where else was his personality and his behavior supposed to go? He spent a month completely suppressed by Sukuna. The only thing he was going to do without intervention is regress, not progress. What happened to Megumi when Yuuji reached out to him was him coming back to himself - and the only "himself" he had in recent memory was who he was immediately before Sukuna took over. Character progression cannot happen in stagnation, and stagnation is all Megumi had while he was suppressed in the bath™. Expecting any of that to change him for the better or to push him in any "forward" momentum is, quite honestly, ridiculous. The only direction Megumi could have gone is backwards, and he is (which means also we are) just lucky that he was able to be dragged into the version of himself that had already grown and that was waiting for his return.
Common Argument Number 4: Megumi didn't do anything during the fight against Sukuna
What gets me about this stance is that it seems to be the only one shared between the "shonen bros" who only read manga for the fight scenes and the hardcore Megumi stans who wish so desperately that he was the main character of the series. But like... what do you want him to do, here, exactly? Somehow find within himself the urge to get up and fight what seems to be a losing battle after watching his own hands kill not only his sister but the most prominent adult figure in his life? Resist all on his own (with no prior arc moments to support it) whatever mystical magical bs makes the bath™ work in keeping his soul suppressed? Do you want a good and well-structured character arc with logical emotional weight, or do you just want your favorite character to defeat a villain that is not "his" villain? I'll wait. Megumi's struggles during this story arc are internal, and his inability to fight is reflective of that. If he were to be resisting against Sukuna the whole time - trying to wrest control of his CT back or attempting to attack Sukuna's soul himself - then we would still be sitting in his power arc during this time. Megumi's inaction is physical representation of the inner turmoil and struggle that he was in during the fight, and I don't think that's very hard to understand. He is fighting; it's just that he's fighting himself. And he wins that fight. And he does do something in the fight against Sukuna. I firmly believe that Megumi choosing to live sealed the deal on Sukuna's death. Why else would Sukuna have been panicking so hard and doing everything he could to keep Megumi depressed and stuck in the ruts of his mind? If Megumi hadn't chosen life, hadn't decided he wanted to keep fighting in that moment, Sukuna would still be kicking. I don't think it's a stretch, actually, to say that Megumi delivered the blow that weakened Sukuna to Yuuji's kill shot. Megumi was integral to the fight - he just needed to go through his emotional arc first.
I'm sure I'm missing things, I'm sure I forgot things. But this isn't college and I'm not writing for a grade. What I am is tired of both Megumi hate and Gege hate. Megumi is a well-written character who is good representation of depression (at minimum), and who is also not the fucking main character. Like, I'm sorry that the character you project your mental illness onto acts mentally ill, and I'm sorry your favorite character is a side character who is written like a side character. These things tend to happen.
Yes, obviously, more could have been done with him and the wrapping of his character (and all of the characters) if the ending wasn't rushed, but that's not Gege's fault. Blame capitalism if you want to point fingers. JJK isn't the first manga with a rushed ending for exactly that reason, and it won't be the last.
Okay, I have to force myself to stop talking or we'll be here forever but:
The ending of JJK is not "bad writing," it's the best outcome that could have happened given the time constraints and publication constraints.
I agree that it would have been nice to see acknowledgements from the characters of the trauma they went through, but also I think that those things realistically take time. I don't think it's unreasonable that their first instinct would be to pretend that everything is normal for as long as they can. However, Megumi was not handled poorly, and he was not abandoned by Gege, and Gege does not hate him. He was well-written start to finish, and he was given a lovely ending that leaves his future wide open for possibilities.
Take a deep breath and stop trying to be the loudest voice in the room. Look at the text and supplement it with reality and the hard truths of a really shitty work culture, and understand that being upset is valid, but it's not valid enough to justify seething hatred for a mangaka whose entire work you probably read for free <3
188 notes · View notes
odetojupiter · 6 months ago
Text
sometimes i’m having a good day then i remember how deeply entrenched andrew’s actions are within his abandonment issues.
outside of the abuse he faced in the foster system, we know he bounced from home to home, which only taught him that he wasn’t wanted. the first person who made him feel wanted was cass, and he was so desperate for that that he was going to put up with drake just to keep it. i’m sure in juvie when he started working through his issues he realised that cass didn’t want him more than she wanted to protect drake. there’s no way she didn’t know but she didn’t interfere because she refused to choose andrew over drake.
he makes a deal with aaron, which puts his life on the line and only asks aaron to stay with me only me, because he’s never been anyone’s first choice, people always chose his abusers over him. and that makes aaron mourning tilda feel like another betrayal. i could’ve died too i could’ve died, he thinks. but aaron won’t hear that. he makes a deal with kevin because kevin won’t stay without protection. andrew’s protection is kevin’s reason to stay, so andrew tells him, find me a reason to as well. because by then he knew aaron would leave as soon as they graduated, and kevin would go pro and andrew would be alone with no deals keeping him alive. he offers neil a similar deal, tells him stay and ill protect you. because throughout his life he’s been taught over and over that people don’t want him. so he has to offer up everything he has to convince them he’s still useful, even if he’s unwantable.
but then aaron kills drake, putting his entire future at risk just to save andrew. neil agrees to be tortured for weeks on the off chance it would prevent andrew from being hurt. kevin never gives up on andrew, never stops trying to hand some of his passion over. neil breaks his deal, saying i’ll hold up my end, i’ll still stay, but you don’t have to give me anything because who you are is enough.
and that’s never happened to andrew before. no one has ever chosen him, chosen to stay with him.
and then, that same day, neil is gone. and until they find the abandoned bag and phone and keys, there’s a voice in andrew’s brain saying u should have known u should’ve learned by now no one will ever stay with u, they all leave in the end. but no, neil was taken, and now andrew realises neil broke off the deal to protect him, to prevent him getting hurt in the crossfire because neil knew this was going to happen. he was willing to die for andrew.
and, in the end, he kills for andrew too. that makes two people who have killed for him, just like he did for aaron and tried to do for nicky. he doesn’t like it, thinks their lives are worth more than mine they shouldn’t put them on the line for me, but they do it anyway.
but still, andrew knows he isn’t wanted. he’s been taught that lesson over and over throughout his life, and the last time he tried to forget that lesson it nearly killed him. that doesn’t change the fact that aaron and neil didn’t leave, even after their deals ended. it’s something he’s still trying to wrap his head around. people staying, people wanting him to stay.
324 notes · View notes
just-dreaming-marvel · 17 days ago
Text
Cold ~ Part 2
MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST / CHRONIC ILLNESS MASTERLIST
Logan Howlett x Female!Reader
Word Count: 2,020ish
Summary: Logan becomes overprotective of you.
Notes: I hope this part makes some sense… I got sick yet again so I'm really craving someone to take care of me.
Cold ~ Part 1
Tumblr media
Logan became a master at taking care of you during an arthritic flare-up. The consequence of that was that he also became a master at doing everything he could to make sure that you didn’t flare up. When is why he was marching towards you, with a clear look of anger.
“What are you doing?” He asked as you were stretching in the Danger Room.
“Uh, stretching,” you responded, continuing your movements. “I have a training session with Scott in a few minutes.”
“Not anymore. You’re not training.”
“Logan, I can’t gain more strength in my powers without training.”
“You’ve trained twice already this week.”
“And my current goal is three times.”
“You’re not ready for it yet.”
“I think I know what I’m ready for, Logan.”
“No. You don’t. I can sense that you’re overdoing it.”
“I’m feeling fine. I’m going to train.”
“Everything okay here?” Scott asked, feeling the tension as he entered the room.
“Yes.” / “No.”
“Okay, then,” Scott said, slowly backing up. 
“I’m training, Logan,” you argued, standing your ground. 
“Like hell you are,” he grumbled. 
The two of you stared each other down, trying to see which one of you would break first, though you both knew the answer. With a scoff and a stop of your foot, you grabbed your training bag and threw it at Logan.
“Since I’m so weak, carry that back to my locker,” you huffed, marching off.
Logan sighed, shoulders slumping. He didn’t want to be the bad guy in your life; he was just worried. He also simply cared deeply for you in a way he hadn’t cared for anyone in far too long. He hated seeing you in pain and would do anything to prevent the pain you were forced into constantly. Logan had even talked to Hank about somehow using his healing mutation to help you. Hank said it was impossible. So Logan was forced to keep a careful eye on you, no matter if that meant you were often mad at him. 
~~~
You did your best to avoid Logan for the next few days. But no matter how hard you tried, Logan was there, stopping you from training, or carrying heavy items, or using your mutation. The anger was festering inside of you, and it all came to a boiling point when you were called into a mission briefing. Everyone was already in the briefing room when you slipped in. You hung back by the door, trying to prevent Logan from seeing you just yet.
“The base that you will be infiltrating is in an interesting location,” Charles explained. The table everyone was surrounding changed to show the base. “It is several hundred feet down in the Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of Long Island. Due to their security system, there is only one way to reach it.” Charles’ eyes fell on you, causing the rest of the team to turn and look.
“No,” Logan immediately said. “No fucking way.”
“Logan, Y/N has been training for this. She has known about this mission for weeks now and is prepared.”
“Don’t care. She’s not a part of this. Find a different way.”
“Do I get any say in this?” You piped up.
“No,” Logan quickly responded, still focusing on Charles. “She’s not going. It’s too dangerous.”
You were growing angrier and angrier, forcing yourself to clench your fists as you felt the water pipes in the wall begin to tremble. Jean noticed and came over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder.
“Why don’t we take a break and reconvene later?” Ororo suggested.
“Later or not, Y/N is not going,” Logan argued.
“It’s not your choice!” You yelled. “It’s mine! I can do what needs to be done.”
“No, you can’t! You are too weak.”
A few gasps were heard throughout the room.
“Weak?” You repeated, both hurt and angered. “That’s what you think of me?” Suddenly, the pipes burst in the walls.
“Enough!” Charles commanded. “Y/N will be participating in the mission. And you will all be leaving at nightfall.”
You rushed out of the room, trying to hide the tears threatening to fall. You could hear loud footsteps behind you, already knowing who it was. A large hand caught your wrist, forcing you to stop, but you didn’t turn around.
“You can’t go,” Logan’s voice was stern but slightly wavered at the end. 
“You’re not in charge of me, Logan,” you replied, trying not to let him know how you were feeling. “I am going on this mission, no matter if you think I’m weak or not.” You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip, but his grip only tightened. “Let me go, Logan.”
“Not until you drop out of the mission.”
You finally looked at him, anger replacing hurt. “Let. Me. Go.”
“Y/N—“
With a flick of your free hand, the pipes in the hallway walls broke. The water shot out of the walls and pummeled Logan, throwing him back and away from you. You were breathing heavily as you stopped the water. Not wanting Logan to see how hard that was for you, you quickly left.
~~~
The jet ride was completely silent. You grabbed the pilot seat next to Scott so that you didn’t have to look at Logan. You could feel Logan’s eyes staring daggers into you.
“We’re here,” Scott announced, having the jet hover over where the base was located. He looked over at you. “You ready?”
“Yes,” you responded, determined.
“Great.” Scott stood. “Everyone get tethered up, then Y/N will clear a channel once everyone is ready.”
“I’m not going down,” Logan said. “I’m staying with Y/N.”
“We need you down there, Logan,” Jean said. “We’ll all be connected through the comms.”
“I can handle myself,” you added. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
You could see Logan’s jaw clench tighter. He let out a grunt before focusing on getting tethered up. Once you were sure they were all ready, you opened the bottom of the jet up. You took a deep breath before stretching your arms towards the ocean water and creating an open circular channel.
“Let’s go!” Scott said, jumping down first. Jean and Ororo quickly followed, with Logan lingering behind, watching you.
“Go, Logan!” You shouted. 
He watched you for a few more seconds before jumping down with the rest. You ground your teeth together as you began to feel the strain of using your mutation like this.
“Alright, Y/N,” Scott said over the comms. “We’re in. We’ll let you know when we need the channel opened.”
“Got it,” you responded.
As you let the water go, you stumbled back, falling to the ground. You could feel the achiness start to set into your joints. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe you were weak. The jet suddenly shook as it was hit. You fumbled over to the pilot’s seat, trying to steer the jet away.
“Guys!” You shouted into the comms. “We have a situation up here. I’m being fired on!”
“What?!” A chorus of voices yelled over the comms.
“It looks like they got a few of their own jets in the sky.” The jet rocked as it got hit again. “Shit!”
“Y/N?!” Logan’s worried voice flooded through the speakers. 
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” You quickly punched a few buttons. “I’ve gone into stealth mode. Hopefully, that holds them for a little bit, but that means you have to free those mutants fast.”
It was another ten minutes before Scott gave you the signal to reopen the channel. You reopened the bottom doors and focused all your energy on opening the channel. Unfortunately, that also meant that the opposing side could find the jet. The jet shook yet again with another hit.
“Hurry!” You urged. “We’re open for hits!”
Scott and Jean came up the tethered lines first, each with a mutant with them. Ororo was next, two mutants with her, and then Logan with the last one. He could immediately sense that you were hurting more than the strain on your face was giving away. Untethering himself, Logan headed for you, but the jet shook once again before he could get to you. You released the hold you had on the water as you flew up and rammed into the ceiling. You let out a cry of pain. Logan moved fast, sliding as he barely caught you before you hit the floor.
“I’ve got you, I've got you,” he whispered, holding you tightly against him.
“Hang on!” Scott shouted. “We’re going to get out of here!”
Everything hurt inside. You couldn’t even hold onto Logan, just laying against him limply as you cried. Logan did his best to hold you steady as Scott flew the jet every which way to avoid getting completely shot down. Jean ended up using her powers to keep Logan and you still as everyone’s hearts were breaking at the cries and whimpers of pain coming out of you.
It took far too long for Logan’s liking for Scott to lose the other jets and return to the mansion. As gently as Logan could manage, he carried you out of the jet and to your room. He laid you down before moving around the room to grab a heating pad, medication, and a change of clothes for you.
“You were right,” you whispered. If Logan didn’t have enhanced hearing, he would have missed it.
“About what?” He responded, bringing all the items over to you.
“I’m weak…”
“No, I— I didn’t mean it that way, sweetheart.”
“Yes, you did… and yes, I am… I shouldn’t even be on the team. I can’t even handle one mission.”
Logan sighed, trying to get his thoughts together before he spoke. You took it as a sign that he let you win. With a whine, you sat up.
“You can go,” you told him. “I can take care of myself.”
“No,” he responded gruffly.
“Logan,” you sighed. “I’ve taken care of myself before… flare-ups can’t stop me. I’ve got to keep living.”
“There. Right there. That’s why you’re the strongest person I have ever met.”
“But you said—“
“I know what I said, and I… I’m sorry. You are not weak. I just… I, God, I’m terrible at this.” His hand raked through his hair. “I—Sweetheart, I care so much about you. I am constantly worried about you, but it’s out of…”
“Out of what, Lo?”
He gave you a knowing look. “I think you know what.”
“I think you need to say it so I don’t go assuming things.”
“I… I love you, sweetheart. And I just hate to see you in pain. I wish that I could take it from you, and trust me, I asked Hank about it, and I—”
You winced as you placed your hand on top of Logan’s mouth to stop his rambling. “I love you, too. And I know that I haven’t said it enough, but thank you for taking care of me.”
His hand carefully wrapped around your wrist as he kissed your hand and moved it down to your lap. “Always.” He looked at you, wanting to kiss you, but he could sense the pain you were in. “What do you need?”
You looked away. “I… I can’t change.”
“Alright.”
“I need some heat.”
“I grabbed your heating pad.” He held it up.
“Could you hold me?”
“Are you sure? I’m a lot heavier than you and I—“
“And your body is my personal heating pad. Please, Logan.”
“How do you want me?”
You winced as you moved to lie down. Logan’s hand hovered over your body, not knowing exactly what to do to help. You moved onto your side, back facing Logan. He got the hint and carefully maneuvered around you so that he was the big spoon and you were the little spoon.
“Like this?” He muttered nervously.
“It’s perfect,” you replied.
“You sure. I can—“
“Logan. Just hold me.”
“Okay.” He leaned in and kissed the back of your neck before resting his head there. “I’ll hold you as long as you need, sweetheart.”
141 notes · View notes
jarofstyles · 11 months ago
Note
prince harry and common girl lover (best friends since childhood) + “we can’t keep hiding like this”
OH YES!!!! A bit of forbidden love.
Check out our Patreon!
------
The wind billowed the edge of the blanket they laid on, hiding underneath the willow tree as the sun got a bit lower in the sky. Being wrapped in Harry's arms was the most safe she ever felt, despite the fact it was the most dangerous place to be. His heart thumped steadily against her cheek, fingers running over the opposite as she felt his eyes burning a hole into her.
"We can't keep hiding like this." His voice rasped, lips turned downward. "I can't handle it anymore, Petal. I've been trying to find ways to be alright with hiding how much of my heart that you own but I keep hitting a wall. I believe it's because something is telling me I shouldn't hide you." He gently ran his knuckle over the bridge of her nose. "I want to tell them. Everyone."
Y/N's eyes burned as she closed them, trying to control the shaky exhale she released. It didn't work. She knew he was an optimist, her beautiful sunshine prince, but he had too much to lose. She couldn't be selfish with him, not when the entire kingdom would rely on him one day. "You know we shouldn't, Harry. You've been promised to someone else since the day you were noticed in your mother's belly." It was hard to control her voice, the weakness of it giving it away to Harry that she was struggling.
Nudging her up, he cupped the side of her face and thumbed over the high round of her cheek. Eyes scanned her face, taking in her slightly wobbly bottom lip and the glaze over her eyes that wrecked him. It shouldn't be this difficult. He shouldn't have to hide the person he loved with his entire being, so much so that she consumed him. He knew his mother would understand, but his father would be resistant. He would tell him that a future king had to make decisions they didn't like, and he would need to abide by the arrangement.
"I want to marry you, Petal." He whispered, connecting their lips at the end of the word. It was a pained kiss, one he was trying to melt into softness. Take away the brittle edges and file them down smoothly, let her feel the way he did. His sweet girl was so afraid, so nervous of what would become of them but Harry couldn't fathom a world without her at his side. "I want you to lay next to me at night, I want your hand in mine, your lips to only ever feel the shape of my own. I crave you every single second you are away from me. Don't you understand? How I yearn for you, I ache. Not just to be inside of you, but to be with you. To listen to your breaths as you sleep, just knowing that you're there." He swallowed thickly, nudging his nose against her own and took another kiss. Harder this time, a harsh breath leaving his nose as he pulled her, moving her dress so she could straddle his lap.
"My love, my sweet, my Petal. Please... allow me to take the risk." He pleaded. "Allow me to tell them of us, let me take the punishments if need be. I will do anything for you." His words were whimpered as he pressed frantic kisses to her lips, her cheeks, her forehead. "I feel like I'm going insane. As the day of the engagement party grows closer, I feel the walls of the castle getting smaller. I feel suffocated. The only time I can breathe is with you." His hands clutched her close, almost as if to prevent her from slipping through his fingers.
"Oh, Harry." She whispered sadly, watching his eyes water. It was unlike him, her sunshine prince. He was so bright, so warm. To see the storm clouds settle over the sun was alarming and she hated the sight. It wasn't right. "Do you think I don't feel the same? That I'm not physically ill at the idea of you bedding someone other than me, even if it is only to provide an heir? Do you think I don't cry in my bed after I leave the sparkling stars and you, wishing I could crawl back to you? But I feel so selfish." She pecked his nose, letting their foreheads rest together. "So, so selfish. What if they strip your title? What if they banish you? What if it's forced regardless and there's a rift between you and your family? I cannot bear the idea of ruining your life. I can't take the sunshine away from you."
The world was quiet. The birds chirped and the branches moved, leaves rustling in the wind, but the only sound they could hear was each others breaths and their own heartbeats in their ears.
"I would let them." He whispered after a moment. "I would let them take it all away from me before I let them take you. I don't think you grasp how much you mean to me. You are my heart." His eyes burned as he looked at her. "I would run with you, I would find us somewhere and build a life with you. Nothing else matters more than you." He sniffled, pressing his lips back against her and laying repetitive kisses to her lips. It was hard to convey just how much he truly loved her. How she had his heart in her hands and his should wrapped around her finger.
"Harry..." She laughed through a tear, looking down at the hand holding her waist tight. "I hope you know I feel the same for you. You're what I need." Her fingers brushed the hair that had fallen into his face, the soft curls unfairly highlighted caramel in the sunlight that bled through the leaves. He was inhumanly handsome. "I'm afraid for you."
"I'm afraid for myself if I don't admit my love for you. I can't be trapped in a loveless marriage when I have a love. The greatest lover there is. I want children with you, I want you by my side. Whether I'm king or not, having you would be my biggest accomplishment." He meant every word. Every beat of his heart belonged to her. "I'm going to tell them. I'm going to make you my wife, regardless of the cost. All I'll ever need is you."
427 notes · View notes
saintsenara · 10 days ago
Note
How do you think memory charms work from a brain science perspective, and what might the implications of such technology be? Given the complexities of memory—how it works, its function (e.g., in identity formation, decision making, psychological well-being, etc.)��the fact that these spells are so routinely used on Muggles who witness magic—especially under traumatic circumstances—is so sinister…
thank you very much for the ask, pal! a very interesting question to think about!
as you say, memory is the central part of human experience. it's integral to who we are, why we understand ourselves to be that way, and how we function daily. without the ability to remember things we've learned or which have happened to us in the past, we don't have the ability to understand the present or plan for the future, or apply context to why we behave in or feel certain ways. memory is so important to our understanding of our own existence that many people would say losing it is the thing they fear most...
and i think there's a very credible case for jkr being one of them.
in its understanding of the body, the harry potter series prioritises cognitive function above all things.
physical illnesses, injuries, or disabilities don't upset or frighten it unduly. this is partially because its genre conventions need to take this approach to physical impairment in order for their plots to advance - harry being able to take a bludger to the head and live to tell the tale is the same as john wick being able to fall from the top of a six-storey building, get up, and keep going: they're action heroes, and the person following their exploits wants that action to continue.
but it's also because the series' central theme is choice - and, specifically, the choice between good and evil. this choice - as the books understand it - is something freely and rationally made, with no cognitive impairment preventing it.
[hence - as i've written about elsewhere - voldemort's horcruxes do not - despite common fanon - make him insane.]
as a result, injuries, disabilities, or experiences which lead to a loss of cognitive capacity - thereby making it impossible for choices to be freely made - are presented by the text as uniquely horrifying.
the revelation that frank and alice longbottom can't recognise neville after they're attacked by the lestranges brings a "bitterness harry had never heard there before" into dumbledore's voice.
lupin is primarily ashamed of the loss of rational thought his transformations bring, and the wolfsbane potion works by preventing this loss of rationality:
"As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform... I am able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again. "Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month."
harry thinks that "bathilda bagshot" [really nagini in disguise] is starting to forget how to perform magic, and equates this loss of function with the dark, dank, foul-smelling house in which she lives.
ariana dumbledore's trauma-induced cognitive disability gradually ruins her family’s lives.
harry, our hero, is never, ever affected by the imperius curse.
and, of course, the dementor's kiss - which canon understands as the single most frightening thing which could ever befall somebody - brings about a state where bodily functions continue, but cognitive ones are lost:
"You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no... anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just - exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever... lost."
as a result of this, canon presents memories as things which are straightforward and factual. while they may be interpreted subjectively - harry's horror at snape's worst memory, for example - they are - in and of themselves - objective accounts of events. the memories which harry views in the pensieve, for example, are not "witness statements" - subjective, personal accounts of how an individual experienced an event, which might be contradicted by another person's own subjective recollection - they are fact. what they say happened actually happened. sirius' version of snape's worst memory would be identical to snape's.
and canon understands that memories are - therefore - devoid of things like perception, assumption, imagination, habit, and emotion. indeed, these things are not only irrelevant to the memory... they are detrimental to it.
slughorn's attempt to modify his memory of telling tom riddle about horcruxes is because he wishes to soothe an emotion - shame, at giving riddle the information he needed to commit such evil and then not telling anyone - by presenting an imagined version of events in which he looks better. his attempt to apply these two things to the memory are what curdles it. what dumbledore is asking harry to do, in sending him out to retrieve the unmodified memory from slughorn, is to acquire the objective facts:
"He has tried to rework the memory to show himself in a better light, obliterating those parts which he does not wish me to see. It is, as you will have noticed, very crudely done, and that is all to the good, for it shows that the true memory is still there beneath the alterations."
in saying that slughorn's "true memory" remains accessible, what dumbledore is saying is that slughorn should be judged as having full cognitive capacity. he's compos mentis, he's of sound mind. if the true memory did not remain - if slughorn had managed to corrupt his memory to such an extent that he genuinely believed that his conversation with riddle had never occurred [rather than knowing it did but wishing he'd behaved differently and therefore pretending he had] - then he would, in the eyes of the series, be insane.
now... this - unsurprisingly - is not how human memory actually works. memory is fragile, inconsistent, and subjective. we forget things. we misremember things. we remember things through subjective lenses. we invent false memories.
but we can - nonetheless - use what we know about human memory to uncover a wizarding theory of memory formation which would explain why they think this way.
and why they feel so comfortable tampering with people's memories.
[and why this is horrifying.]
what are memories?
in canon, memories are presented as something tangible - wisps of silvery liquid. and memories actually are physical things - albeit absolutely microscopic ones - which take up physical space in the brain. they're just kept out of the way of our conscious awareness until we need them.
[basically, they're christmas lights in a box in the attic. they physically exist and they're physically present in the house, but they sit - turned off and with no attention being paid to them - until they're needed, when they're brought out of storage and switched on.]
they are made - like almost everything to do with the brain - from neurons, which are a type of cell. neurons work like the wires in a telephone exchange - they transmit chemical and electrical signals across the brain [and, therefore, across the body] in a vast, high-speed, interwoven network:
Tumblr media
a digital model of the neural network from a sesame-seed-sized fragment of human brain. there are about 50,000 connections shown. [source]
a neuron receives a signal, which it then interprets. it then sends a response [or action potential] along its stem [axon].
at the end of the axon, there are synapses, which form a bridge to other neurons, linking a chain of communication together.
Tumblr media
synapses are generally activated by chemicals called neurotransmitters - such as serotonin, melatonin, adrenaline, dopamine [which are likely to be the ones most people have heard of], and others.
so: neuron x receives a signal, interprets it, and transmits that interpretation as an electrical signal along its axon, causing the release of adrenaline into the synapse linking it to neuron y. this activates the connection between neurons x and y. the signal passes across the synapse into neuron y, which interprets it, and the process continues.
each neuron has thousands of synaptic connections to other neurons. and these connections aren't static - they get stronger or weaker depending on exposure. the more we use the connection, the stronger the connection is.
one way to think of this is to imagine the synaptic connection as a volume dial, which controls how loudly two neurons "talk" to each other. if the connection between neuron x and neuron y is very strong, the synaptic connection allows them to shout at each other, thereby understanding each other clearly. if the connection between neuron x and neuron y is very weak, they're only whispering to each other, are having to strain to hear each other, and will probably only partially hear the communicated information.
the brain will therefore prioritise the information it can "hear" the clearest. this is why, if you learn two pieces of information, and then revise the first piece of information every day for a month and do no revision of the second piece, you will find it much easier to recall the first piece when asked - the brain prioritises the "loudest" voice.
when we learn or experience something we create synaptic connections, linking neurons into circuits in an ever-changing map across the brain.
these circuits are memories.
remembering something is the process of activating a specific neuron cluster, thereby retrieving the information it contains and communicating it as an electrical signal to another part of the brain.
this process of remembering can be unconscious - a smell might prompt us to remember something without us actively intending to; when we write something, we're not consciously thinking about how we learned to write, we just do it - or conscious - we might sniff a particular perfume bottle in order to summon up a specific memory; we might intentionally decide to remember a day we spent writing in a particular place.
what are the different types of memory?
there are two main categories of memory - short-term and long-term.
short-term memory is the brain's capacity to actively hold onto a small amount of information [about four things, on average] for a brief period of time [and by brief we mean around 15 seconds - any memory which can be recalled after that period of time is a long-term one] in order to allow you to do things, like take down a telephone number.
long-term memory, in contrast, is something the brain possesses an infinite capacity for. it can be divided into two subcategories.
the first of these is implicit memory. this refers to recollections which are unconscious, habitual, primed, or conditioned. learned motor skills - things like holding a pen or riding a bike - which you can do without having to think about how [procedural memories] are an example of implicit memories. so are things we are conditioned to do via the association of an action with a stimulus - like pavlov's dogs salivating when they heard the ringing of the bell - and things we are primed to do by general knowledge or contextual experience - like being shown the word "bread" in a word association game and responding "butter" without having to actively think about why that connection exists for us.
the second is explicit memory, which refers to the conscious recollection of a specific thing. explicit memory has two subcategories: episodic memory - the recollection of events or experiences - and semantic memory - the recollection of knowledge or information.
i know that belfast is the capital of northern ireland and paris is the capital of france. these are semantic memories.
i know i went to a restaurant in belfast with my partner last week and that i went to watch the french open in paris with my friend this spring. these are episodic ones.
episodic memory is highly dependent on context and association - you can remember where you parked your car by thinking about the shop you parked next to - some of which is semantic memory in its own right - you can tell that your friend has misremembered a story they're telling about your teenage years because you know you were sixteen when the event took place, your friend is talking about driving, and you possess the semantic knowledge that the legal driving age in the united kingdom is seventeen.
explicit memory is the aspect of memory most clearly affected by conditions like alzheimer's disease, while implicit memories tend to be recalled for much longer.
explicit memory is also the thing most clearly affected in canon by memory charms...
how are explicit memories formed?
at its most basic level, the brain is divided into three parts - the cerebrum, brainstem, and cerebellum. the cerebrum is the thing we’re concerned with today.
Tumblr media
its main part - comprising about half of the brain’s weight - is the cortex, which is the wrinkly surface you probably picture when you hear the word “brain”. the cerebral cortex is divided into two hemispheres. each hemisphere has four lobes [so you have eight lobes in total] which relate to specific functions.
Tumblr media
[here's a video of a dissection of a real human brain - if you fancy it - which goes into its anatomy in more detail]
nestled in each hemisphere of the cerebrum are several deeper structures.
in the temporal lobe, we find two of these structures - the hippocampus and the amygdala - which are crucial to memory formation. we have one of these in each hemisphere [so two hippocampi and two amygdalae in total] as part of our limbic system - a group of brain structures that regulate things like our sense of smell, emotions, memories, and autonomic behaviours [heart rate, breathing, sweating, etc.].
Tumblr media
[here's a dissection of the limbic system, again - fair warning! - using a real human brain]
the hippocampus
when our brain decides it wants to hold onto a piece of information, it's channelled from the prefrontal cortex [in the frontal lobe], which controls short-term memory functions, to the hippocampus, which is then responsible for linking all of the relevant context surrounding the information together - like it's making a patchwork quilt.
let's go back to the example of being asked to take down a phone number. and let's imagine that the person who asks us to take down the phone number is also our fandom-style soulmate. several pieces of information will be created in the brain at once - the memory of being asked to take down the number, the memory of physically doing that, the sensory input of what our soulmate looks, sounds, and smells like, other sensory inputs [what the broader environment looks, sounds, and smells like; the fact we're drinking a coffee; the fact we're wearing a scratchy jumper], the emotion of knowing we've met our soulmate - which are then sewn together by the hippocampus into a coherent, linear account of what occurred.
the hippocampus is selective - it's more likely, even in an episodic memory as emotionally powerful as this one would be, to hold onto information which is comprehensible to it [so, for example, if a song is playing when you meet your soulmate, but its lyrics are in a language you don’t understand, it's less likely to retain that as a key part of its account than if it's a song you understand and, especially, a song you already know and like].
it's also inventive - it will fill in gaps in the recollection of an episode. these inventions are often logical and based on both your semantic knowledge and parts of your implicit memory. for example, in the memory of being a child and going to hospital to meet your new baby brother, he is likely to be wearing a blue hat. it is highly unlikely that you actually remember the colour of the hat he was wearing - especially if you were quite young - but your brain settles on blue to fill that gap in your recollection because it knows you were raised in a culture which associates the colour blue with baby boys.
but they're also subjective. you may, for example, have more than one memory of the same event - with each memory's patchwork quilt having a slightly different pattern. to go back to the memory of meeting your soulmate, you might have one version of the memory which was stored by your brain on the day you first met, in which the thing you primarily remember is how nervous and awkward you were and how you were worried your soulmate didn't actually like you. you might then have a second version of the memory which is altered by contextual information you learned after the first version was created - after your soulmate asks you to marry them, for example, you are less likely to dwell on the parts of the first memory which are about worrying they didn't like you.
while the hippocampus is integral for the formation of long-term explicit and implicit memories, it's not the place where these long-term memories are permanently stored. instead, long-term memories appear to migrate [or awaken] from the hippocampus throughout the cerebral cortex, and to become progressively more independent of it over time. when it comes to explicit memories, the older, stronger, or deeper a memory is the more likely its independence from the hippocampus will be.
we know this because of a man called henry molaison, who had most of his hippocampus surgically removed in the 1950s in an effort to treat his epilepsy. following his operation, molaison was only able to form new episodic memories which lasted for less than a minute before they vanished forever from his consciousness, and essentially lived every single day as brand new, with no context surrounding it. the exception to this rule was that he could recall memories relating to significant experiences in his life which he'd formed years - and often decades - before his surgery. he could also recall certain facts - semantic memories - which he'd already known, but he couldn't form new semantic knowledge.
semantic memory also appears to become progressively independent of the hippocampus over time, much like implicit memories we have acquired through conditioning or priming. for example, the memory of the first time we drank a coffee while tired transforms into the general knowledge that drinking coffee generally helps us with tiredness, bolstered by the semantic knowledge that caffeine is a stimulant.
the amygdala
in the analogy of memory formation as being like creating a patchwork quilt, the amygdala is responsible for one of the most important squares the hippocampus sews together: the emotional significance of the memory.
this is one of the most important bits of context which the hippocampus applies to its account of a memory. the more emotive a memory is, the more likely it is to be remembered.
and this isn’t just the case when it comes to specific episodic memories - such as remembering your wedding day, or the time you were in a car accident. it applies to semantic memory - if i tell you that paris is the capital of france and then punch you in the face, you’ll remember it - and to implicit conditioned and primed memories.
imagine you are three years old, you're in the park, and you meet a dog. the dog is on a lead, calm, quiet, and well trained. you are asked if you'd like to pet it and you say yes. the dog is happy to be petted - it wags its tail and it licks your hand - and you enjoy the experience and start laughing.
the hippocampus takes care of the "bullet points" of this event - the actions and the order in which they occurred, where they took place, and so on. the amygdala assigns an emotional response to the specific episodic memory - that is, when you recall it later, you will feel happy - and to the implicit memory you have accrued from the experience - that is, the next time you see a dog, even if it's not the dog you petted, your brain will be automatically primed to feel calm, safe, and happy.
and now imagine you are three years old, you're in the park, and you meet a dog. the dog is loose, agitated, barking, and much bigger than you. it bounds up to you while you're playing and knocks you to the ground. it growls and you see its teeth. you're afraid and start crying.
the same process occurs, but with a fear response. the hippocampus remembers what happened and in what order, the amygdala remembers how the specific memory made you feel and extrapolates from this to assign that feeling to your implicit memory. the next time you see a dog, even if the dog is on a lead and behaving perfectly calmly, your brain will be automatically primed to feel afraid.
and this reference to fear is important. as i've said, the brain prioritises remembering emotional memories… but it prioritises remembering stressful and/or frightening emotional memories above all other kinds. and it also tends to really cling on to things we have acquired by fear learning - the process by which we unconsciously associate a stimulus with a frightening event.
to return to the scenario above, if you met the nice dog first and then met the frightening dog later, your brain would prioritise the memory of the frightening dog. if you met the frightening dog first and then met the nice dog later, your brain would still prioritise the memory of the frightening dog. and even if you lose the ability to recall the specific episodic memory of meeting the specific frightening dog, your brain would still remember that it was afraid of dogs in general.
the amygdala plays a major role in this fear learning and fear-based recall. and it does this via channels of communication which don't need to involve the hippocampus - it communicates bi-directionally with the cerebral cortex, both with and without the hippocampus also being part of the conversation.
and this has an enormous implication for our wizarding theory of memory.
and so - at last - we come to...
the neuroscience of memory charms
we know from canon that memory charms focus on the removal of explicit memories - and, specifically, the explicit episodic memories which the series understands as objective snapshots of events.
we also know that short-term memory and implicit memory can experience collateral damage when the explicit memory is removed - especially if the charm is performed poorly. we learn in order of the phoenix, for example, that gilderoy lockhart lost the ability to write [an implicit procedural memory] after his charm backfired, and has had to undergo something akin to physical therapy [the way someone who'd received a head injury would] in order to regain this motor skill:
"I'm very well indeed, thank you!" said Lockhart exuberantly, pulling a rather battered peacock-feather quill from his pocket. "Now, how many autographs would you like? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!"
we also know that the recovery of an implicit behaviour - his fondness for signing autographs, a response based in an unconscious assumption he makes whenever he meets anyone [that they're a fan] - is taken by his healers as a sign that his self-perception is stabilising:
"He was rather well known a few years ago; we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign that his memory might be coming back a little bit... This is our long-term resident ward... For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement... Gilderoy does seem to be getting back some sense of himself."
crucially, we see here no expectation that any specific memories - episodic memories, canon's factual accounts which prove someone to be of sound mind - will return. what the healer means by "his memory might be coming back a little bit" is something general. a memory charm - as the text understands it - affects something discrete.
but lockhart also shows us that the specific episodic memory impacted by a charm isn't deleted from the brain. it remains in storage - and, therefore, retains the potential to be reactivated.
and he also shows us that this potential reactivation is very likely to depend on an emotional stimulus, especially a negative one:
The smile faded slowly from Lockhart’s face. For a few moments he gazed intently at Harry, then he said, "Haven't we met?" "Er... yeah, we have," said Harry. "You used to teach us at Hogwarts, remember?" "Teach?" repeated Lockhart, looking faintly unsettled. "Me? Did I?"   And then the smile reappeared upon his face so suddenly it was rather alarming. "Taught you everything you know, I expect, did I? Well, how about those autographs, then? Shall we say a round dozen, you can give them to all your little friends then and nobody will be left out!"
lockhart clearly associates a stimulus - something to do with harry - with a fear response [probably from being frogmarched at wandpoint and forced to jump into a hole]. this emotional context calls out to an episodic memory it has been severed from, but can't get there and falls silent again, drowned out by the louder activity of the implicit memory, telling lockhart to talk about autographs because these are fans.
so lockhart hasn't lost this specific episodic memory - he just can't access it. from this, we can conclude that memory charms block communication across synaptic connections, thereby preventing a memory from being retrieved.
and we can also conclude that - since wizards regard episodic memories as objective, factual accounts of events, which are unaffected by things like perception, assumption, imagination, habit, and emotion - they only understand the formation of these memories as they happen in the hippocampus. and, specifically, that they understand memory formation only as the hippocampus ordering events into a coherent, linear account - which they regard as objectively correct. we can further conclude that they do not understand anything other than this ordering of events as forming part of the episodic memory process, and, therefore, that they do not understand memory charms as needing to affect anything other than these "factual" snapshots.
which means that a memory charm will block the retrieval of the "bullet points" of an episodic memory from the hippocampus - and, therefore, someone whose memory has been modified won't remember the specific order of events surrounding the memory.
but it won't block the other bits of information - other patches of the quilt of the memory - from being retrieved. it will just remove them from their context.
and - right on the canon page - we learn that this failure to remove anything other than the bullet points, even in memory charms which are accurately and skilfully performed, makes the experience of having a modified memory profoundly disorienting to the person affected.
we see this - for example - in the case of morfin gaunt:
"So the Ministry called upon Morfin. They did not need to question him, to use Veritaserum or Legilimency. He admitted to the murder on the spot, giving details only the murderer could know. He was proud, he said, to have killed the Muggles, had been awaiting his chance all these years. He handed over his wand, which was proved at once to have been used to kill the Riddles. And he permitted himself to be led off to Azkaban without a fight. All that disturbed him was the fact that his father's ring had disappeared. 'He'll kill me for losing it,' he told his captors over and over again. 'He'll kill me for losing his ring.' And that, apparently, was all he ever said again. He lived out the remainder of his life in Azkaban, lamenting the loss of Marvolo's last heirloom, and is buried beside the prison, alongside the other poor souls who have expired within its walls."
morfin's verbal tic is a manifestation of a emotional response which now lacks any other context - the fear caused by his nephew visiting him, on the day the riddles were murdered, and incapacitating him [in a way which would allow him to steal his wand] just before the crime took place. in repeating it, what he's saying is "i know i didn't do this, even though i confessed, but i can't explain how i know this, and i am afraid".
and we know that dumbledore is able to use this emotional clue as the end of a line of string, which he can then follow back across deactivated synaptic connections to the suppressed [and, in canon's view, objective] episodic memory of tom riddle meeting his uncle:
"But he had this real memory in him all the time!"   "Yes, but it took a great deal of skilled Legilimency to coax it out of him," said Dumbledore, "and why should anybody delve further into Morfin's mind when he had already confessed to the crime? However, I was able to secure a visit to Morfin in the last weeks of his life, by which time I was attempting to discover as much as I could about Voldemort's past. I extracted this memory with difficulty. When I saw what it contained, I attempted to use it to secure Morfin's release from Azkaban. Before the Ministry reached their decision, however, Morfin had died."
we see something similar in voldemort's treatment of bertha jorkins:
"But Wormtail - displaying a presence of mind I would never have expected from him - convinced Bertha Jorkins to accompany him on a nighttime stroll. He overpowered her... he brought her to me. And Bertha Jorkins, who might have ruined all, proved instead to be a gift beyond my wildest dreams... for - with a little persuasion - she became a veritable mine of information. "She told me that the Triwizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be only too willing to help me, if I could only contact him. She told me many things... but the means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her were powerful, and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose. I could not possess her. I disposed of her."
something we are told about bertha jorkins across goblet of fire - including by both sirius and dumbledore, characters the doylist narrative of this book trusts to be telling the truth - is that she loved gossip. and this - feeling intrigued in, scandalised by, and excited by a piece of information - is an emotional response.
voldemort - like dumbledore - seizes on this emotional component as the end of a line of string. bertha provides him with a piece of semantic information - the triwizard tournament is to be played - which makes her think of piece of general information - she knows barty crouch sr., who is organising it - which causes an emotional response which places the string in his hand - barty crouch sr. = scandal. voldemort then follows that string across deactivated synaptic connections to the suppressed [and, in canon's view, objective] episodic memory of bertha discovering that barty crouch jr. [about whom she possessed various contextual information, such as the fact that he was found guilty of being a death eater] was alive.
ergo, memory charms block the point-by-point recollection of specific episodic memories, unless someone is determined either to do a lot of careful forensic work or to commit murder.
but they do nothing to block the additional context - above all, the emotional context - which is so important to memory formation and recollection. and this is what makes the casual use of them - especially the casual use of them on muggles - so terrifying. because their efficacy is dramatically reduced in circumstances where a memory has an emotional context.
and witnessing someone performing actual magic would undoubtedly inspire quite a strong emotional response...
the circumstances in which they work well will be those like tom riddle sr.'s run-in with morfin. the ministry response to the incident is speedy, which means the memory hasn't been consolidated for long-term storage beyond the hippocampus. the incident seems to be the first time riddle ever interacts with morfin - meaning that he doesn't retain a conditioned implicit response that morfin is frightening or dangerous. riddle talks about the gaunts in a way that suggests he thinks they're funny and ridiculous, laughs at bob ogden as he's chased from the shack, and is happy riding along the lane where he was attacked, which shows that he didn't develop a fear response to the incident [nor, indeed, any significant emotional response at all]. preventing him from recalling this memory is simple, and it has no repercussions.
[in terms of his brain health, that is. obviously, it has a major repercussion in that it removes any pre-warning he might have given himself about merope…]
but outside of this context - in which the ministry essentially gets incredibly lucky that riddle sr.'s brain reacts in the only way which actually makes them viable - memory charms are clearly nowhere near as effective as wizards seem to think.
because, when it comes to people's strongest, deepest memories, the only thing being removed is the ability to run through the summary of events - to go down a checklist of what happened, and to contextualise an emotional response [for instance] by situating it within the account of the event which triggered it. the emotions these memories provoke, and the way in which they're bound up into the knowledge which helps us understand our place in the world, remain. all that happens is that these feelings can't be situated in a point-by-point context which explains how they might have occurred.
and so, to come to the memory charm the series thinks is noble and benign... what hermione does to her parents is remove the bullet points surrounding the most important memories of their lives from their heads, leaving profound, lingering emotional responses, which respond to stimuli even though the grangers can't understand why...
when she says that they don't know they have a daughter, what she means is that they don't remember the list of events which proved that fact to be true. mrs granger doesn't remember that she took a pregnancy test which was positive, mr granger doesn't remember that he witnessed hermione being born, neither of them remember taking her to the cinema to see the little mermaid, or buying her first school shoes, or taking her to see her grandparents on her sixth birthday.
but the evidence of canon is that the emotions attached to these events - and the unconscious knowledge which emerges from them - would remain.
and this is why hermione's modification of her parents' memories is an example of the series' black-and-white, protagonist-centred morality which i absolutely loathe. not because the watsonian text isn't horrified by it [why would harry know how memory charms work] but because the doylist text handwaves it away as something easily reversed [via jkr saying that hermione immediately restored her parents' memories the second the war was over] which left no adverse effects.
because - sure - i'm not quibbling with the need to think of hermione's decision to wipe her parents' memories as necessary, but it needs to be understood as one of those horrific choices which only become necessary because the alternative is worse.
and this necessity doesn't erase the fact that what hermione does to her parents is meaningfully no different from what bellatrix and company do to the longbottoms. we see that alice longbottom retains the emotional context to a memory - she knows that she loves neville and wants to give him a present - even if she no longer remembers who he is and what his relationship is to her. the same thing will have happened to the grangers.
and so "monica wilkins" might have found herself driving down a street in suburban melbourne one december afternoon when a christmas song came on the radio… and for reasons she doesn't understand, she burst into tears… and she went home and started making dinner… and she'd adapted the recipe she was using so it didn't have any coriander in it… but she doesn't know why, because she likes coriander just fine, and so does her husband… and then "wendall" came in, and she told him about her strange experience… and he said that he turned on the tv and meet me in st louis was showing and he had to change the channel because he thought he was going to cry… and this made them both intensely uneasy… because they've got no reason to behave so strangely… so irrationally... they don't have any memories associated with that song or that film… right?
but that's because they don't remember the facts of how their only daughter - who's got the coriander-tastes-like-soap gene - only lasted two days of a family skiing trip in december 1995, even though they hadn't spent any significant time with her since august 1994, before she swanned off back into a magical world which seemed to be robbing them of her piece by piece.
they can only remember how sad it made them feel.
121 notes · View notes
cdragons · 6 months ago
Note
can we please have more headcanons on being friends with rob, jon and theon plz!!!
A/N: There are no words to describe how sorry I am for how long this took. I had so many incomplete fics on the backburner and finals are the WORST. But I hope this makes up for it!
This takes place in the same universe where the reader is Luwin's apprentice and grew up with the boys!
Tumblr media
-> It was a well-known fact to the smallfolk residents of Winter Town that one of their own had managed to rise to the station of being an apprentice for THE Starks' one and only maester. Since then, you became a very popular figure for them.
-> If you weren't at the Winterfell Library or studying with Maester Luwin, you could often be found wandering around WInter Town and getting to know the townsfolk on a more personal level than the Starks. You were especially popular with mothers and children. You took special care to teach them how to gather special herbs for simple home remedies instead of medicine they cannot afford.
-> For the smallfolk children, you were used to them after years of being around the Starks when they were young, so you knew exactly how to handle them. As you became more competent and reliable, Luwin gave you more responsibilities and much more free time than when you first began. As a result, when a child would scrape their knee or get a cold, you were the first person people looked for help.
-> You soon became known as the 'Winter Fairy' to the smallfolk because you were always willing to help them with their troubles.
-> You even got money for your services to the Winter Town brothel. The girls adored you. You had herbs and remedies that made their lives so much easier: herbs to prevent pregnancies, remedies to quickly heal bruises and dark spots from a rough patron, poultices and ointments for rashes and sores, teas to reduce fevers and flush out illness - you were a gem!
-> Luwin didn't love that you were getting money for your help, but he supposed that since you were still just an apprentice, you needed to find a way to get money for more personal reasons. The Starks would pay you a fair wage when you became a full-time healer, and Luwin offered you a few coins as an allowance - but you refused to take his money. THis seemed like a much better manner of business to you.
-> The only ones who didn't seem to know of your services were the Stark Children and Theon. And you preferred it that way. Robb, Jon, and Theon were your best friends, but they could be so possessive of your time.
-> It seemed that the older you all grew, the more they expected that your time and your life be readily available for them and only them.
-> Theon was easily the worst of the three. He would find you wandering Winter Town on your own and would outright demand to know what you were skipping your duties - as if he wasn't doing the same thing. He would grab your arm and drag you all the way back. You could have been screaming, kicking, and throwing the worst tantrum a child could imagine - he would still put you in your place.
-> It was really bad when he found you at the brothel after he had spent some well-spent money on Ros, only to find you at the entrance in a thick cloak. He barked out your name, and you quickly tried to leave with your things before he could catch you. But you were much too slow, and he all-to-easily wrapped his hand around your wrist and led you out of the establishment.
"How can you be so stupid," he barked while dragging you. "You're a girl, alone, walking into a brothel like that? What would've happened if I wasn't there?" You struggled against him. "It's not like I was doin' anything bad or illegal," you snarled. "I was just selling herbs and teas for them! Maester Luwin said I could!" But Theon didn't hear any of it. "What if a man thought you were a new girl, huh? He would've paid for you and took you while you were cryin' and screaming without a care for your tears." "Nothing would've happened," you protested. "The madam of the place likes me! So do the girls - they wouldn't let anything happen to me!" "Stupid girl," Theon muttered while shaking his head. "From now on, you're not allowed to leave without me, Robb, or Jon with you. Gods know you can't be trusted on your own."
-> Robb was almost as bad as Theon. He would've been much, much worse if he hadn't been so busy with his duties as the first son and heir. He does place a great deal of trust in you. After all, you were approved by his father AND Luwin, and you were the smartest person he'd ever met, so he knows he can trust you on your own.
-> That is until when you become more lovely and beautiful as you grow older, and more men begin to notice you. Specifically, men who were allowed to flirt and court you because they were of similar stations to you. Knights, stableboys, stewards, and valets would come to you for the most minor things as an excuse to be near you, and it infuriated Robb to the point where he asked his father to order Luwin to order you to exclusively treat women and children.
-> To say you were furious was an understatement.
"How dare you?!" you demanded. You had returned from treating one of the sick children in Winter Town when you were ordered to meet with your mentor. "You had no right!" "Love," Robb sighed while pinching the bridge between his eyes. "What exactly d'you think I did?" "Do not take me for a fool, Robb Stark!" you snarled. "Asking Lord Stark to tell Luwin that I can only treat women and children is a gross insult to me and my skills!" "You're not qualified to treat knights and men!" Robb protested. "I'm saving you more trouble in the end!" Robb knew what he was saying wasn't true. You were more qualified - years after treating him, Jon, and Theon for their mishaps in the courtyard proved that. But what mattered was him convincing you to think you weren't qualified. It was of the utmost importance that you not be near anyone who could flirt and woo you. It was petty and childish, but Robb didn't care. "How can you be so mean?" you whimpered. You wanted to cry. "I know I'm good enough! You're lucky that Lord Stark laughed it off as a joke when I came to him!" "He what?!" Robb balked. "That's right," you nodded. "And if you ever pull something like this again, I won't ever help you if you get hurt in the courtyard again!"
-> Jon was a different beast altogether. Like the other two, he got unreasonably jealous when men would flirt with you - even if it wasn't serious. But he knew better than to insult your character or question your skills and professionalism. He understood that it was your job to care for those men, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Especially when he sees how oblivious you are to how much those men stare and long for you the same way he does.
-> He hated it because it reminded him how his status as a bastard meant he had nothing to offer you. Those men weren't good enough for you - none of them were. But they could provide for you, unlike him. But instead of pissing you off by getting angry with you, he'd just distance and brood to himself. He wouldn't be near you and instead would order Ghost to follow you around in his stead - which, if anything, pissed you off even more.
"Well?" Jon looked up from his sword to see you standing before him with your hands placed on your hips. You looked absolutely enraged at him, and Jon had a slight inkling why. "Umm," he cleared his throat. "I dunno what you mean, my lady." He stood and tried to walk away. "I think I hear Robb callin' for me, so I best be off." "I didn't hear Robb call your name," you growled. You shifted from your spot to block his path. "I don't hear anyone - everyone's in the Great Hall." "Yes, the Great Hall," Jon murmured. "Which is where I believe you're supposed to be as well." You stomped down your foot in frustration. "Don't act smart with me, Lord Jon," you ordered. "I can see you trying to avoid me. Every time I try to talk to you, you pretend you have something to do, or someone's calling for you when I know you didn't have chores or duties to do at any of those times." Jon looked down at his feet. "I dunno what you're on about," he muttered. "I've been busy, that's all. Even if I'm just a bastard, I still have duties to this house." "UGH! You're so infuriating!" you groaned. "I don't care that you're a bastard, y'hear me? You're my best friend, and that's all that matters to me! Who the fuck cares what anyone else thinks?!" When Jon tried to respond, you cut him off. "And before you try any of that 'it's not good for you to be seen with me' sheep dung, may I remind you that I was a smallfolk girl who ran away from home? If anything, I'm lower than you, and you don't see me caring." You walked closer to him. "And neither should you." Jon couldn't do anything but dumbly nod. His silent response made you smile. "Good," you held out your hand. "C'mon now, I'm starving, and I know you are too. And you should really reward Ghost better. He's been putting in an awful lot of work following me around and scaring my patients - 'specially my male ones." "Attaboy, Ghost," Jon thought to himself.
Tumblr media
Let me know what you think in the comments and if you wanna be tagged for more GOT, HOTD, and/or ASOIAF content! If you have any ideas or suggestions, please drop an ask in my ask box!
252 notes · View notes
starry-bi-sky · 11 months ago
Text
Becoming Phantom - Clone^2 (and by extension, clone danny)
I said I would make it, and so i did! Here's a little ficlet of how danny became Phantom - the human ghost-fighting vigilante in the clone^2 and clone Danny au. Since this does include themes of dissection/vivisection, i'll put in a minor trigger warning list down below.
TW: experimentation - implied torture and vivisection/dissection of ghosts TW: Non-graphic mentions of injuries and blood
TLDR: Danny's parents have been catching ghosts ever since the portal was opened after Danny's lab accident. Danny knows this because he can hear them screaming from the basement. After finally telling his friends about it, he resolves to free the ghosts - and he does. He ends up having a conversation with one of the ghosts, and comes to the decision that he will catch ghosts before his parents do to prevent this kind of harm from happening again.
word count check: 4.9k
---------------
His parents caught another ghost.
Danny can tell because he can hear their screaming from the kitchen, even with the doors closed. It's horrific - the voice is doubled over itself like something out of one of Sam's demonic horror movies, and Danny's heart races like he's run a mile at the sound.
It warps and twists, and almost sounds like its saying 'please.'
He rubs his chest uncomfortably, and pushes his breakfast away from him. His appetite lost and his stomach churning with a deep sense of dread.
Across the table, Jazz notices, and her eyes narrow dangerously at his hand gripping his shirt - right over his heart. He just got out of the hospital last month, and he knows what she's thinking - they don't want to have to send him back.
"I'm fine." He blurts out immediately, dropping his hand. He's not fine, but it's because he feels ill as the lights above flicker and another terrified shriek echoes through the floorboards. He swallows, ill. "I- it's just-" his eyes flick to the door to the lab. "the lab."
Jazz's lips press into thin line, and she pushes her chair back and stands up. "I hate that they're doing this," she says, stomping towards the lab. "It's inhumane, Danny. They're people too, even if they don't look like us!"
Before the portal, Danny might've just shrugged his shoulders and not said anything. He never really cared about his parents' ghost hunting stuff, but figured that since they knew more about it, their rants about them being unfeeling were correct.
Now, though? When he's been woken up in the middle of the night by the house rattling and his ears ringing with the pained cries of one of the ghosts' in the basement? His heart beating so fast he thinks he's been transported back to the lab a month ago, lying on the floor after being electrocuted by the portal?
He's really not so sure anymore. And he thinks he's starting to agree with Jazz. This isn't right. He doesn't think so, at least.
An unsure 'hm' comes out of his throat, eyes tracking Jazz as she swings the heavy metal door open and breathes in deep. "HEY!" She yells, her voice miraculously sounding out over the ghost screaming. The screams stop. "MOM! DAD! CUT THAT OUT, YOU'RE SCARING DANNY!"
There's no sound, and Danny sighs a breath of relief. Not that it does much to slow his anxious heart, the shrieks are burned into his ears, and he's already thinking about leaving now rather than later. He can meet Tucker at his house.
His parents - his mom, actually - appears at the entrance to the lab, her hands drip bright, ectoplasm green, and there's splatters of it across the front of her suit and goggles like blood. Danny feels white in the face, and Jazz looks enraged.
Mom pulls off her goggles, frowning apologetically. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Your father and I just got carried away, we caught this one just this morning by the park." She says, as if that makes it any better. Danny's eyes are glued to the ectoplasm dripping onto the floor. "We'll wait until you get to school."
Danny wishes they wouldn't do this at all. But he just nods mutely, unable to make his lead-heavy tongue do anything. Jazz speaks for him, and whirls on mom like a tornado about to break loose. "At school? This shouldn't be happening at all - it's wrong, mom!"
Jazz has been the only one vocal about this whole thing ever since mom and dad came home with a ghost trapped in one of their nets - their thermos wasn't working - while Danny was on sick leave after he got out of the hospital. Danny still remembers the utter shock he was in after mom and dad came in dragging it behind them.
The ghost looked like a grown woman, but it - she - had the brightest blue eyes he'd ever seen, and ice-like skin. She'd been thrashing in the net, saying something in a hissy, whispering language that made static build behind his eyes. It had surprised him that he could somewhat make out what she was saying.
It had been fascinating. Up until the screaming started.
He watches Mom make a face that looks like endeared annoyance, and she turns to Jazz with a light sigh. "You're a kind girl, Jazz, but ghosts aren't human, sweetheart. We've told you this." And they have, multiple times. It's become a reoccurring argument.
"Does it matter?!" Jazz exclaims, her cheeks turning an inflamed red with indignancy. She looks appalled. "They're still in pain! You're hurting them!"
Danny silently nods, but they don't see. Jazz is glaring at mom with the burning anger of the sun and Mom just looks exasperated. "Your father and I know this already, Jazmine." Mom says, her arms crossing across her chest.
Jazz's mouth drops open.
Danny's almost does the same. The bone-chilling blood rush leaves him shivering, and his vision spots out in black, fuzzy dots for a few seconds. Maybe, he thinks, it's his heart stopping again with the cold horror.
They know this?
They know this?
And they're still doing it?
He thought he knew his parents - now he's second-guessing himself.
Jazz is just as much at a loss for words as Danny is. And then her expression shutters closed with a fury-kind of icy. "Danny," she says, still staring down their mom. "Go get your stuff, I'm driving you to school."
Normally, he hates how.. parent-y Jazz gets. She acts like a second mom, and like a helicopter one to boot. It drives him nuts on the worst of days. Right now though, he's already rising to his feet before he's even opening his mouth.
"Okay." He croaks, and beelines it up the stairs for his backpack. He doesn't look at mom when he comes back down, he doesn't think he can. He can see her still-dripping hands in the corner of his eye though.
------
"Man, you look like shit." Tucker says the moment Danny sits down in their homeroom class, he's frowning. Danny doesn't say anything to him, he just grunts and drops his head into his arms.
Sam, sitting behind Danny, leans across the aisle and smacks Tucker in the arm. He yelps in pain, and rubs the spot she hit with a glare. "He's right though," Sam says, leaning over his shoulder. "You looked like you were gonna yak over the front row when you walked in."
"It's good that you didn't," Tucker grumbles, "Dash would've killed you."
Danny, despite the shit morning, manages a smile and tilts his head so that his cheek is resting on his arm instead. "Mr. Lancer wouldn't've let him." Sam sniffs, and her fingers are in his hair already - it's been growing out for a while now. He meant to cut it but then the lab accident happened, and he was in the hospital, and then on sick leave, and -- long story short, he was growing it out.
Besides, Sam pulling it back for him was relaxing, and he feels the tension bleeding out of his shoulders already. His anxious heart slowing. "Yeah, he's been weirdly protective since the accident." He says. It was kinda nice, Dash was being forced to back off - finally, more than he was before.
"Probably because if you have a heart attack in class from Dash bullying you, he'll be liable." Tucker snorts, relaxing back into his chair. Up front, the three of them see Dash shoot them a glare from over his shoulder. He probably heard them -- and Tucker doesn't help by giving him an innocent, too-wide grin.
There's a tug, and Danny lifts his head slightly as Sam ties his hair back with whatever hairband she procured out of nowhere. And she says she's not a witch, honestly.
His smile falters, however, when Sam leans back around his shoulder with a frown still evident on her face. "Seriously though, what's up? You were really pale -- paler than normal, that is."
Danny doesn't really wanna tell them - he's kept the whole 'my parents are torturing ghosts' thing to himself ever since he first woke up to the house shaking. It wasn't any secret though that there were ghosts now actually 'infesting' Amity Park though, they'd been popping up ever since the portal turned on.
But Jazz says talking about things helps alleviate stress of what's burdening you, and Danny doesn't usually listen to her. She's his annoying older sister, of course he doesn't. But... this... wasn't really something he wanted to keep secret forever, either.
His teeth sink into his bottom lip, and he averts his eyes. It's like tearing off a band-aid, Danny, he thinks, just... blurt it out. "My parents are torturing ghosts in the basement." He says, only to immediately wince as both Sam and Tucker drop their jaws.
"What!?" They both yell in unison, and Danny ducks his head down as everyone else sitting around them turn their heads.
"Not so loud!" He hisses, peeking through his arms and glaring at the both of them. They both grimace, embarrassment dusting red across Sam's face and Tucker's darkening slightly, and duck their heads down towards him.
"Sorry, what!?" Tucker whispers back at him, his face all scrunched up in disbelief. Sam's redness has faded into pale horror and -- and yeah, yeah, Danny gets it. He feels that way too.
"They keep catching the ghosts and dissecting them." He whispers, and god, he feels sick just saying it. Tucker's face falls slack, and he looks about as ill as Danny feels. "I don't- I don't know what to do about it, I keep waking up to them screaming, and Jazz keeps getting into fights about it with them."
"Oh my god." Sam mutters, her hands pressing together and covering her mouth. Danny nods mutely, chewing on his lip.
"They know its hurting them." He adds, and its still dizzyingly terrifying to think about. He thought he knew his parents. He thought he knew them. He guesses that saying of people being multi-faceted was true. "They don't care."
Sam and Tucker both look green. Or as close to green as they can get. "That's- that's inhumane." Sam breathes, and Danny huffs sardonically - funny, that's what Jazz said this morning. That's what she keeps saying. "And there's really nothing you can do?"
"Not unless I go into the lab myself and release them," he mutters, hiding half his face in his arms. "And I haven't been back in there since I got electrocuted." His parents wouldn't allow it, and it's not like he he was chomping at the bits to go back inside anyways.
...Hm.
"I'm sorry, Danny." Tucker says, his voice low and horrified, "that's- that's awful."
Yeah. He knows.
--------
This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea.
Where was Danny you ask? Sneaking down into the lab at sometime past midnight, long after his parents have gone to bed. It's been a week since he said, sarcastically, that the only thing he could do was release the ghosts in the lab, and it hasn't left his head.
Even though he was utterly terrified as he took slow, sneaky steps down the stairs. The thought had been keeping him up at night. He could do it. He could go down into the lab and let them go. He could do something.
It's not like his parents had put a lock on the door. He hadn't even thought about it - if he thought about it, he'd back out. So when he heard his parents go to sleep that night, he waited an hour before sneaking out.
Every sound felt so loud, and his heart had raced in his ears as he creaked open the door to the lab, and closed it behind him for good measure. And his hands were shaking as he reached the bottom of the steps and stepped into the lab for the first time in two months.
And good god, did he almost regret it. There were ghosts in cages of all kinds, and ectoplasm seeping down onto the floor of their cages. They were clutching their chests, of which bled sluggishly through stitched up y-scars. They were moaning, and crying, curled up in the back like frightened animals. And there was a metal table in the center of a room that was stained green, green, green.
"Oh my god." He breathes, horror driving itself up into his throat with the churning of his gut. That's another thing he almost regrets - if only because half a dozen ghosts all snap their heads towards him, and it becomes pandemonium in an instant.
Rattling, yelling, crying, they're all screaming at him. Either to tell him to go away, to give them mercy, or to spew threats at him. It's in that same, hissy language that he's heard before. Whispery, echoing, and overlapping like multiple languages being played backwards and forwards at the same time. It gives him an immediate headache as his mind tries to comprehend and translate it.
Go away. Don't hurt us. Go away. I'll tear you apart. Leave. Leave. LEAVE.
It's all so much. Danny wants to throw himself up the stairs and back up to his room in a prey-driven instinct to flee, flee, flee. He doesn't. He covers his ears and digs his nails into his hair.
He yells. "I'M NOT LEAVING. BE QUIET!" and somehow, it silences everyone in an instant. He looks up, and everyone is staring at him, their multi-colored eyes burning into him.
Tentatively, he lowers his hands, they're shaking. He's still so scared. But courage isn't a lack of fear, its doing something despite it. He blinks back the terrified sting in his eyes, and twiddles with his hands. "I'm- I'm not here to hurt you." He stammers, "I promise. I'm not my parents."
It's silent for a long moment, and then there's an animalistic-like hiss from his left. He turns his head, and there's a ghost of a man curled up in a cage, staring him down with a thunderous look on his face. "Liar." He hisses, his voice warping in that hissy language. There are goat-like horns protruding from his head, and his eyes are yellow and slitted. He's dripping ectoplasm from his chest.
Danny swallows the bile in his throat.
And frowns. "I'm not lying." He says, and the ghost doesn't get hostile, much to his surprise. But there's a ripple of murmurs that spreads through the room like a wave at a ballgame. The ghost that spoke stares at him, then squints.
"You understand us, child?"
And - okay, Danny doesn't like the 'child' comment. He's fourteen for goodness sake, and he bristles silently like it's an insult, but he's no there to argue, he's here to help. So he swallows his pride and starts to walk towards the closed portal.
His legs are shaking, he's afraid they're gonna give out beneath him. The portal scares him, more than it did when he first saw it. But maybe that's because when he first saw it, he hadn't almost died from it.
His heart is pounding in his ears. Is it going to give out again, will he have to go to the hospital again? Despite his insistence that he's fine, Danny's heart hasn't beat right ever since the accident. He's checked. He spent an hour every night with his fingers pressed against the pulse point at his throat, at his wrist, terrified of the slow-beating he could feel thrumming against the skin.
Hearts aren't supposed to beat that slow - that much he knows. He's afraid he's going to drop dead if it drops any lower.
"Of course I do." He swallows, glancing back at the ghost. Everyone's eyes are on him, they burn into him, curious, wary, afraid. He's in front of the portal, in front of the keypad to open it. Shit, did dad put in a password? "Am I- am I not supposed to?"
He pauses to look at the ghost, and the man has moved to stare at him from a new angle in his cage - god he's gonna need to find the key. Mom and dad probably have it in their desk, right?
The ghost is silent. "...No. You're not." He says, and his head tilts to the side as Danny mentally translates in his head. he looks at Danny like he's trying to inspect him, like he's trying to look into him like his parents have looked into the ghost. "What is your name, child?"
"I'm not a child." He bites out, and immediately winces. Shit- he just said not to antagonize them. But the ghost doesn't look offended. In fact, he just grins a sharp, toothy grin like a shark, and raspy giggles and titters echo through the room.
...That's... probably a good sign. "Um," he continues, and turns his back to the keypad. Dad's birthday? He punches into the keys. "I'm- uh, Danny. Danny Fentom- Fanton- Fenton. My parents are- uh, the ones who took you guys." The keypad buzzes and the bar spots red. Wrong password. Dammit.
"Phantom." The ghost says, and the name crawls like a spider across the walls, sneaking up his spine and ringing in the air like the leftover taste of rain and thunder. the rest of the ghosts whisper it amongst themselves.
Danny shivers, it feels like a weight in his chest. It's Fenton, he thinks, but doesn't correct. He doesn't want to push his luck with the being that could tear him apart. "Uh, sure."
He punches in mom's birthday. Wrong. He puts in Jazz's. Wrong. "How come we haven't seen you down here, Phantom?" The ghost asks, and Danny shrugs helplessly. "You are the Danny that the unknown girl yells about?"
He tries his own birthday. Wrong. Fuck. What's the password? The tremor in his limbs worsens with his anxiety, and he tries to keep his breathing steady. What if he can't get this open? What if he can't get them out? He nearly forgets to answer the ghost, and licks his dry lips. "Um- yeah, that's me. The Danny guy." He says, turning to the cages again. "And uh, I don't come down here because my parents don't allow it."
The ghost, uh, goat-man? Tilts his head, there are whispers throughout the room that pick up. And Danny feels like the kid late to an all school assembly and now has to walk past the whole school to find a seat.
Goat-man smiles again, or bares his teeth? "You are the reason why the human doctors haven't cut into us more than they already have." And- that's- that's good? He thinks?
"That's- good, right? You- you don't want to be cut open, so it's good that I, uh, indirectly stopped it a few times?"
A round of titters goes through the room again. The man's grin widens inhumanly so, and Danny's heart spikes with fear. "Yes, it's a good thing, Phantom child." He says, "Why is it that your parents do not let you come down here?"
Danny stares, and swallows again, dry. The back of his neck tingles, and he tastes electricity on his tongue. "I had an accident down here, um, nearly two months ago." His eyes flick to the cable cord where the portal was plugged in, and his heart flutters with the images of green that got burned behind his eyes. He looks away. "The portal, it, ah, electrocuted me. I was in the hospital because it nearly killed me."
"It did kill you." The ghost says immediately, and terror fills up in Danny like water flooding a room. What? What? What? He was alive. His heart was beating, he was alive. "But only for a moment. You've been touched by death, Phantom."
That was so fucking ominous. And terrifying. And terrifyingly ominous. And also really horrifying. Danny does a swift pirouette and turns back to the keypad. Time to figure out the passcode and not think about that, ever again, actually.
"Wow." He rasps, his mind numb as he punches in a random code of numbers and gets a red screen. "How reassuring. Tell death I want a refund." He gets laughter again, and his shoulders scrunch up to his ears.
"It is the reason you can understand us, then." The ghost says behind him. "We are not speaking your language child - rather, you are speaking ours."
Again. Fucking ominous. Danny furrows his brows and stares hard at the keypad - if he was dad, and he wanted to put a password lock on his lifetime achievement in something that was easy to remember and equally important, what would it be?
Oh. Right.
He bites back a groan - how obvious. Danny's an idiot. Or maybe just so scared witless that his brain isn't working right. "Fudge." He grumbles, and punches it into the keypad. It dings green.
Of - fucking - course. Danny rolls his eyes.
He hears a hiss, and Danny rapidly scuttles back as the massive blast doors twisted open like something out of a scifi movie - he'd be geeking out if he wasn't aware of his own rapid heartbeat. Like a gun charging up, an unearthly green glow appears at the back of the tunnel an d then rapidly moves towards him, growing larger and larger.
Danny flinches, half-convinced its going to hit him. He was going to be vaporized, and he brings up his arms to protect himself. But nothing happens, and he peeks open an eye that he closed when the ghost from before murmurs for him to open them.
The portal is - is, well. Indescribable. It fills the dark room with its glow, swirling like a those weird, shimmering liquid dyes put into martini glasses in those aesthetic gifs on the internet. And the light it casts on the walls shimmers and moves like the aurora borealis.
Danny is speechless. It's... oddly beautiful. And terrifying. There's a whole new world in that dimension - if he steps through he won't be on earth anymore.
And... his parents wanted to eradicate the people on the other side of it?
He whirls on foot, his back to the portal - a thing that fills him with dread. his shaking - its worse. Danny almost thinks his feet will give out. "Do - do any of you know where mom and dad keep the keys to the cages?" He asks, but he's already stalking towards the desk on the other side of the room.
The people in the cages grow restless, and they've been silent for the most part - but with the portal open, and him going to find the keys, they'd begun to grow talkative. They were moving more in the cages, talking to each other, excitement filling the air with so much hope Danny could feel it resonating between his ribs.
A new voice, quiet and feminine, speaks up on the opposite side of the goat-man's cage. She's closer to the desk, and she has also been cut open. There are black tears staining her face, and her shock white hair floats like she's underwater. Immediately, on instinct, Danny's head supplies him with a word.
Banshee.
"In the bottom drawer, Phantom." She whispers, her voice lilting and melodic. Her pitch black eyes follow him across the room. "I've seen them put it there after putting us back into our cages."
He nods mutely, and again feels horrified by their treatment from his parents. His pace quickens to the desk, and just as the banshee woman said, there are keys in the bottom drawer sitting on top of a bunch of research papers that have a suspicious green stain on them.
Danny ignores the stain and grabs the keys, holding them up as he closes the drawer. When he turns back to the cages, all eyes are on him. "Um," he rasps, "I found the key." Who do I free first?
His eyes land on the banshee woman first, she's the closest to the desk. And in an arc he follows the lineup to the other side side of the room. He moves to the banshee woman's cage first, and she perks up as he kneels down to the door.
"I'll- I'll go in a circle, first." He announces, fingers fumbling with the key as he inserts it into the hole. The banshee woman had her fingers - clawed and knife-like, capable of tearing out his throat in an instant - around the bars of her confinement. She was staring at him intently.
He hesitates, and looks up. Her eyes are pitch black, he noticed this before, but this close its like its threatening to suck him in and send him swirling through a blackhole. "If- if I free you," he stammers, licking his lips, "will you attack me?"
The banshee woman bares her razor teeth at him, and reaches through the bars to touch his face. It takes all Danny's restraint not to flinch as her nails drag down his cheek softly. "No," she says, "you're freeing us, Phantom. We will not attack you."
Danny.. will just have to take her word for it. He nods, and with a sharp twist of his wrist unlocks the cage with one hand, and flings open the door with the other. In an instant, the banshee dives forward -- Danny thinks she's lunging at him, and flinches violently.
She goes through him instead, leaving him with a bone-deep chill and a heartbeat in his ears. He turns, and sees her dive through the portal like a swimmer diving into a pool.
There is silence throughout the room. And then everyone else begins to clamor once again, just like when Danny first walked in. Danny hurries to hush them - he said he was going around the room! He'll free them, but be quiet, or you'll wake his parents!
He rushes for the next cage, and one by one opens each and every cage. There are cheers, and thank yous, and cries of gratitude. He has to help the weaker ghosts out of their cage and limp them towards the portal. His shirt and hands are stained green with their blood.
(When he goes back up to his room later, he throws it off and throws it away. He can't stand the sight of it, and he scrubs his hands until they're raw.)
It's a lot for Danny to not burst into tears, or to throw up. Until finally he reaches goat-man's cage, and releases him. He is one of the ghosts too weak to fly on their own, and so Danny lets him lean against him and helps him to the portal.
"Will you be okay?" He asks once they are at the threshold, the portal hums softly this close to it. Almost like its trying to beckon Danny inside, like a siren song. Danny ignores it. "Will everyone else?"
"We will heal, Phantom." Goatman says, holding a hand to his chest. He looks tired, this close, and Danny can feel him looking at him, even without any pupils to show it. "Once back inside the Infinite Realms our bodies will heal on its own."
Danny nods silently, and his frown begins to wobble. The stress he's been under is finally starting to take its toll, and he is emotionally exhausted. There is still a lingering taste of fear in the air that doesn't belong to him - but the ghosts that have left. "I'm sorry." He croaks, his voice cracking. "I didn't - I didn't think you guys were human. I'm sorry."
The ghost's expression softens, but he still looks stern. "We aren't human." he says, and Danny frowns, confused. The ghost continues, and reaches out a long finger to tap against Danny's chest, where his heart is. "But do not think for a moment that humanity can be measured by the sound of a heartbeat, child. We are just as humane as you living can be, and we are just as sentient and sapient as you. Do not forget that, and you will not become your parents."
There's nothing for Danny to say to that, except nod once again. His tongue is heavy in his mouth, made of lead. "This will happen again," he continues, and his eyes prick, "they're gonna keep catching ghosts and bringing them down here." And hurting them.
Goatman nods curtly, and raises an eyebrow at Danny. "What will you do to stop them, Phantom?" He asks, "You could keep releasing them after they have been already caught, but that will not stop the pain they face under the hands of your parents."
He's right. He's right. And if Danny keeps releasing them afterwards, his parents will grow suspicious. They'll start sticking around trying to catch whoever is freeing the ghosts. And Danny doesn't want to face what will happen if his parents realize that he's the one freeing ghosts.
His eyes flicker rapidly around the room, trying to think of a solution - what could he do? What can he do?
His eyes land on the thermos sitting on the table.
"I... I could catch ghosts?" He says, unsure, and looks back to the ghost. He nods, beckoning for Danny to continue. "I can catch them in the thermos before my parents do, and then release them back to the Zone."
"That will work." The ghost says, "The thermos doesn't hurt to be in, it's merely cramped. Will you follow through on this?"
"Yes."
The ghost smiles at him a third and final time, his teeth glinting in the green portal light. "Then good luck, Danny Phantom."
He lets go, and disappears into the portal.
319 notes · View notes
msfbgraves · 1 year ago
Text
Thinking about Abraham van Helsing and his refusal to even discuss vampirism until people have drawn their own irrefutable conclusion and going, oh, this poor sweet kaaskop (cheesehead, that's what we Dutchmen call ourselves).
You see, Dutchmen, and Hollanders in particular, are almost aggressively opposed to the idea of the supernatural. We're factual and neutral to a fault. The most well known horror story about the Dutch - The Flying Dutchman - was written by the English. We don't do fancy ourselves. Our horrors are aggressively real and mundane (it's flooding. We are obsessed with flood prevention. Scared out of our mind by drowning and storms). Our horrors are tangible and real and out in the open. Dying in a flood. Dying in a coal mine (a more Victorian fear). Dying in a flooding coal mine, to combine the two. Dying at sea. Dying in traffic.
But you can fight the sea. And we do fight the sea. With engineering. Technology. We look at stuff in detail and deal with what is right in front of us (the sea, the universe), and only that. We're bad poets and good scientists, we're great figurative painters. We are, as everyone knows, aggressively literal and straightforward.
Indeed Bram, that sweet man, has a very literal approach to vampire fighting. Lucy is being fed on? Blood transfusion. Aenemia is aenemia. Also, autopsies are autopsies, no matter why they are performed. Medicinal flowers are medicinal flowers, prevention is prevention no matter the circumstances.
He has been conditioned to think that everyone will violently reject anything supernatural that isn't in the Bible and even then. Because that is a what a Dutchman, a Hollander especially, would likely do. "The ordinary is crazy enough", is a close approximation of one of our most well known sayings.
And now imagine Bram van Helsing coming across vampirism somewhere prior to the story. He will have rejected it at first. Maybe he rejected it too long until he either had to choose between the truth of his own perception or the fact that he was insane. He will have self-diagnosed any and all mental illnesses that could afflict him until deciding that he was of sound mind, and this was a vampire attack. What would have taken a citizen of Bistritz minutes to accept and act upon (nothing too far removed from their religion, most likely), would have taken Bram weeks or months of lonely agony and doubt.
And maybe by then, it was too late?
Still, even after Lucy's testimony (in writing!); the punctured neck, the blood loss, the bat, the wolf attack, the physical changes, does he not say to Jack - if it quacks like a duck and walks like a duck and acts like a duck, I am going to treat it like a duck, my friend. Instead he waits for Lucy to turn in front of Jack's eyes so he will have to believe in vampires because he saw it himself. To Van Helsing this is the only way to convince him because that is what it would take to convince an educated Dutchman. (I always joke that there are so few supernatural occurrences in The Netherlands because our outright refusal to believe in any of it kills it stone dead.)
This is dangerous, by the way - had he been alone, he wouldn't have let it get this far, I am sure of it. But there is a greater problem, a hunting vampire on the loose and he needs the help of his friends. And he doesn't dare confide in them.
How long has he been alone with this...?
Bram... 😭💔
524 notes · View notes
themultifandomgal · 8 months ago
Text
Jay Halstead- Allergies
Tumblr media
When Jay asked me out on a date I was so worried he would take me to a restaurant, luckily he didn’t, instead we went just went to Mollys and had a drink. After how well our first date went Jay asked me on another, which meant I couldn’t hide my allergies from him anymore. Thankfully he understood and so once again we didn’t go out to eat.
Now here we are married with a 5 year old daughter who fortunately doesn’t have as manny allergies as I do, except for the fact she’s allergic to cows milk. Anything containing said product could send her into anaphylaxis, this is why we have many vegan products just to be on the safe side.
I sit at my desk opposite Jays as I fill out paperwork from my last arrest when my works phone rings
“YN Halstead”
“Mrs Halstead hello, this is Mr Martinez I’m calling you to let you know that I will need you or your husband to come and pick up Layla from school. She’s unfortunately been sick and says her chest hurts”
“Ok” I sigh looking at the clock on my computer 12:34, “I’ll come down and get her. Has she eaten anything at lunch?” I ask standing up. Jay then looks at me confused
“Yes, she didn’t say she felt ill, in fact she ate all of her lunch”
“What was it?”
“It was macaroni cheese, but I’m not sure what Layla had instead. I’ll find out from the cook and let you know what it was when you arrive”
“Ok I’ll be about 15 minutes” I sigh putting the phone down
“Everything ok?”
“Laylas been sick, I’ll go and get her, you think Voight will let me bring her back here?”
“Never had a problem with it before. I’ll come with you” Jay says getting up “go get the car ready and I’ll let Voight know”
We arrive at the school, but as we park up there’s an ambulance with blue lights flashing. Quickly we get out of the car and rush into the reception area
“Oh thank goodness Mr and Mrs Halstead your here” the receptionist walks round her desk to us “please follow me”
“What’s going on?” Jay says worriedly
“After Mr Martinez rang you he spoke to the cook. They’re new and turns out that she gave Layla the macaroni cheese”
“What?!” My eyes widen and panic sets in
“She was given her epipen and we phoned an ambulance. She’s in here” we head into a room where I see my best friend Sylvie sat next to mine and Jays daughter
“Momma!” Layla yells crying
“It’s ok momma and daddy are here”
“Why the hell did the cook give my daughter something she’s allergic to? Do you not have a list of all the childrens allergies?”
“Of course we do Mr Halstead, but as this cook was new she didn’t know their allergies”
“How did she not know? Surly she would have see then list?”
“She never come to the office to get it” the receptionist states
“Then why didn’t you take it to her?” I shout
“I understand your both upset, but I have to remind you that we are still at a school” the headteacher now walks in
“And how are you going to make this better Hm?” Jay asks crossing his arms
“We have asked that she go to an allergen awareness course, and we will be making a list to stay in the kitchen”
“YN, Jay? Layla is ready to move to hospital. You know the drill”
“Yeah course. Babe let’s go” Jay sighs at Sylvie “but this isn’t over. I want to know how your going to prevent this from happening again”
Jay and I head to the hospital where we’re told that Layla will be ok but no school for her for the rest of the week.
236 notes · View notes
hitomisuzuya · 1 year ago
Text
Decoding Scara. Scaramouche x fem!reader. Fluff. Some humor. Soft Scara. AU
a/n: I wrote this cause we all want someone to take care of us when we are sick. One of my dad's girlfriend's kids gave me this gnarly awful cough. Kid doesn't even cover his mouth 😭 I don't want this shit, no one does. Next on deck is Diluc smut. I should be on the last legs of this shit.
Achoo!
Scaramouche cringed.
You'd sneezed. You were sick. You had been for a few days now. Thing is, you were too proud to admit it. Sometimes, he thought you were more stubborn than he was.
Your cheeks looked flushed with fever, you sounded congested. You hadn't slept all that much because of it.
And Scaramouche had had enough of your shit. It ends now.
"Tch. Stop it, it's painful to watch you," He scoffed as he watched you from his spot on your bed, crossing his arms.
Up for a game of decoding? When you are dating someone like Scaramouche, you had to really listen to hear what he means when he talks. It's a weird thing for you to explain.
Decode: Please come rest, you are very sick and I am worried for you.
You rubbed your eyes before you looked at him. You looked so tired. "No, I still have things I need to get done," You said, giving him a soft smile before turning back to your laptop.
Scaramouche promptly got up, and closed your laptop. He rolled his eyes when you sputtered in protest. "No you don't. You look like you are going to drop dead any second now. "
Decode: It can wait. It's more important for you to get better.
You tried to open your laptop again, but Scaramouche kept his hand on your laptop to hold it closed. He picked you up bridal style and carried you over to your bed.
It really really freaked Scaramouche out when you got sick. He'd lost someone who he considered a younger brother to illness. He would be damned if he lost you like that too.
He wouldn't be able to bear it.
"I'm taking this," He picked up your laptop, and tucked it under his arm before he walked over to your bedroom door. "And I am locking the door from the outside while I am gone at the pharmacy."
Decode: Please stay in bed and sleep while I go get you medicine.
You knew there was no use in protesting. Scaramouche tucked the blankets around you, giving you a quick kiss before heading out to the pharmacy. He really did lock the door.
This boy, as soon as he got to the pharmacy, he grabbed one box of every cold medicine on the shelf. If one didn't work for you than you had others to try. The cashier gave him an odd look. He knew it looked totally shady.
"Fuck off, my girlfriend is sick," He snapped, glaring at the cashier. Unfortunately, the cashier didn't know how to decode Scara at all cause he didn't know him.
There was no reason to decode that one though.
After some coaxing and bickering, the cashier rang him up just so he would leave. That was fine with Scaramouche. He didn't like idiots holding him up, especially if they were preventing him from getting back to you.
Next he went to the grocery store. He bought various soups that would help sooth your throat, and a variety of teas, scoffing when he took a box of hot chocolate mix off the shelf. He despised sweet things, but he knew it would make you feel better.
The only sweet thing he didn't despise was you.
"Sc-Scara, what did you do? Buy the whole pharmacy?" You asked with wide eyes when he tossed the bag full of cold medicine onto your bed.
"Practically, just shut up and take your medicine. I also got you that mud you like to drink," He said, sitting down on your bed.
Decode: Take your medicine. It will make you feel better. I also got you hot chocolate because I know you like it.
Scaramouche spent the next few days hardly letting you get up for anything, making sure you took your medicine, and making you soup. He watched movies and TV shows with you, he would never admit it but he absolutely ate up reality shows for their drama.
Needless to say, once you recovered, you had your hands full taking care of Scaramouche when he caught what you had.
He would still kiss you even if you were sick.
669 notes · View notes