#did i mention that they were armchair diagnosing people left and right??

[starbuck]

i don’t understand people who get sick pleasure from recounting tragedies, i really don’t

[nothorses]

Oh god, thank you, like if we did assume anon comes from a good place we understand where anon comes from but also like...yea nothings going to help if we don't like, Have A Replacement and you definitely know more than us about this one.

If it's alright to ask: we're wondering if you have any sort of knowledge that could be passed onto us (and others in a situation like ours) to mitigate that?

For more specific context, people definitely sing their praises to IEPs a lot and we saw someone mention them somewhere, but we have very unfortunately been on the end of it where it has been used as a vehicle for oppression and ableism anyways (WE PROMISE those twitter threads will be moved here to Tumblr we just haven't done it yet sory sksksk), because we had abusive parents who were "only" emotionally abusive if that makes sense.

We understand IEPs are helpful to lots of folks but it can be isolating as all fuck when praise is all people do rather than look at some of the tiny nuances or the ways people use it to keep the status quo instead of helping folks. Like how it was used as an extension of Autistic conversion "therapy" / applied behavioral analysis "therapy" when we had to put up with it.

Nutshell/TLDR: how do people use what they have learned to improve education when they didn't really. Learn anything. And how to bring attention to some of the things that nobody wants to talk about without sounding like we're being dismissive. We're so burnt out here when it comes to discussing any education system before university. Please share your wisdom (but only if you want to)!

I am not like, The Expert here, but I will offer some thoughts! Just take them with a grain of salt; I don't know everything, and I could always be missing things.

I will say that IEPs/504 plans are of particular interest to me right now, and imo, the problem is pretty broad and pretty deep.

My own personal context is that my brother was diagnosed with ADHD before even starting school, was put in SpEd early on, and had some pretty traumatic experiences because of that (we picked him up from school once to find him in an isolation room- a closet with one bulletproof window in the door carpeted floor-to-ceiling- because he had acted out in class. In first grade). He believed wholeheartedly that he was incapable of controlling himself, and he developed extremely low self-esteem. I don't know if no diagnosis would have been any better for him, but his diagnosis and "accommodations" (iirc he had an IEP) actively did him harm.

I, on the other hand, was not diagnosed with ADHD until I was 22, and I had to go out and do it myself. I had struggled with school my whole life, I had been in shouting matches with my mom about it, I have trauma about it, and I developed a different kind of low self-esteem around being told I was "choosing" to fail. Once I was medicated, my grades suddenly shot up, my GPA shot up, and I got into a pretty damn good grad school about it. I'm left wondering how things might have been different for me if I'd been understood as someone who was trying but struggling, and who needed support, rather than someone who was not trying at all.

I also don't think it's reasonable to expect that every disabled kid is going to be identified by the system, which is what most teachers seem to think is the issue: that they aren't good enough at armchair diagnosing 6-year-olds yet. It's just not gonna happen. Someone will be missed, and they shouldn't have to struggle alone because nobody else realized what they were struggling with.

Imo, what we need to be pushing for most urgently is universal accommodations, available without any need for diagnosis, disclosure, or anything else: Buckets of fidgets kids can grab whenever, alternative seating options, built-in breaks and frequent snacks, no penalties for late work/tardiness/absences, no graded tests, etc. (I would also like to see more project-based learning & growth-oriented grading, personally!)

As far as learning more: I can recommend some readings to start, and I'll link them here. They're also pretty dense; the grad school recommendation is to read the intro and conclusion in full, and just read the first and last sentence of every paragraph aside from that.

Here's the big folder (which I need to update) of all of the education-related readings I have ever been assigned. I recommend specifically searching "disability" and "democratic"/"democracy"; those will probably be the most relevant to what you're interested in.

Some good starting points:

Leonardo, Broderick (2011) - Smartness as Property: A Critical Exploration of Intersections Between Whiteness and Disability Studies

Carolen, Guinn (2007) - Differentiation: Lessons from Master Teachers

Alverman (2001) - Reading Adolescents' Reading Identities: Looking Back to See Ahead

Veletsianos, Houlden (2020) - Radical Flexibility and Relationality as Responses to Education in Times of Crisis

[fanficflaneuse]

Life in Black - The Pilot

Index 

Episode 1: The Pilot 

A/N: GIF is not mine, I found it on Giphy. I hope you like this experiment. It is a mixture of narration and scriptwriting. 

Words: 2341 

Summary: Bellatrix decides she wants to live with her younger sister and her brother-in-law. 

Opening Sequence 

Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy sat in front of each other. Just like every morning, they took breakfast in the porch, overlooking the gardens. Narcissa insisted it reminded her of her homeland and Lucius knew better than to challenge her. He indulged her instead. He read The Daily Prophet as she drank her tea.

Narcissa was in the middle of a story about the preparations for the Paris Wizarding Fashion Week, when they were shaken by a loud bang from the house. The couple ran inside, wands out and faces full of concern. The elves ran frantically to the living room. As they approached, Narcissa relaxed and Lucius tensed even more.

“Bella!” said Narcissa, approaching her eldest sister and giving her a hug. Lucius took a deep breath, bracing himself up for whatever was coming; Bellatrix and him were barely on speaking terms.

“About time you came to greet me, sister” she answered.

“We weren’t expecting you,” mentioned Lucius.

“Do you hear something, Cissy?” said Bellatrix, pretending her brother-in-law wasn’t in the room.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here, Bella? I thought you and Rodolphus had moved back to Paris?”

“Don’t even mention him to me. We’re getting a divorce,” she said casually, not a hint of sorrow or melancholy in her voice.

Both Lucius and Narcissa eyed her warily. “I am so sorry, sister,” said Narcissa after a moment of awkward silence.

“Oh, don’t be. It was doomed from the beginning.”

“That’s what happens when you marry for convenience,” Narcissa said, shaking her head at the memory of Bellatrix’s rushed, loveless marriage.

“If the other option was to end with a slob like your husband, then no thank you.”

“Excuse you?” he said, outraged.

(NARCISSA MALFOY) TALKING HEAD.

(Narcissa sits on a very elegant armchair. The room is full of paintings and photographs staring at her. In the back of the room, above a marble chimney, there’s a very big portrait in which Lucius and Narcissa stand on either side of a teenager. He resembles Lucius and smiles awkwardly.)

“My sister...she’s truly something. I can’t really put it into words,” she says, politely smiling at the camera.  

(Lucius comes into focus. He’s sitting on another armchair).

“She’s crazy,” he adds, deadly serious. Narcissa frowned at him.

(Bellatrix comes into focus, half sitting on Narcissa’s chair arm).

“Excuse you?” she exclaims, mimicking his previous outburst.

[Back to scene]

Lucius and Bella bickered for a while. Even the elves stuffed their ears with cotton balls so they didn’t have to hear them. Narcissa grew bored a few minutes into their petty drama; it was always the same with them. This time, though, the fact that Bellatrix had decided to move in with them without even asking made their usual passive aggressiveness less passive and more aggressive.

After Lucius stormed off and Bellatrix chose to establish herself in the closest room to theirs, Narcissa decided to call the big guns (also known as her sister Andromeda). She knew her sisters didn’t have a good relationship, but she was also sure she couldn’t deal Bella full time on her own.

(BELLATRIX LESTRANGE) TALKING HEAD.

(Bellatrix sits cross-legged on a champagne coloured divan. It’s placed in front of a big window that oversees the Malfoy gardens. As she talks, a flock of albino peacocks runs in the background).

“My relationship with Andromeda? Oh, it’s nonexistence. Since she married that mudbl- oh right, everyone’s offended by everything nowadays. So, the pc term is muggleborn, right? Well, ever since she married that muggleborn and had a half blood spawn of the devil I decided I just have one sister. She also married an absolute tosser, but at least he brought a pure last name to the table.”

[Back to scene]

Andromeda appeared a few hours later, ready to see her sister for the first time since she got engaged. The two estranged sisters bared a very close resemblance. They were both tall women with curly hair, big, blue eyes, long eyelashes, thin lips and sharp jaw. Anyhow, as they sat by either side of Narcissa, she thought there couldn’t be in the world two more different people. Andromeda’s soft, brown curls in a fancy updo complemented her face and made her look younger. Her eyes were full of kindness and patience. Their older sister, on the other hand, had a thick, raven hair, which looked as though she had hardly combed it. It made her come across as a patient of St. Mungo’s fourth floor.

The sisters sipped tea stiffly and avoided eye contact. Narcissa decided that the feud needed to end, for her own mental wellbeing.

“Andy, Bella is now living with us here,” she said.

“What?” Andromeda now looked at her older sister, trying to the decipher the mask of indifference Bellatrix had always worn.

“Go ahead, laugh all you want,” said Bellatrix, a sardonic smile on her face.

Andromeda was left speechless for a few seconds. Narcissa could see her sister’s mind working and tried to amend Bella’s words.

“She meant -”

“Do you really think I’m so heartless, Bellatrix?”

“Well, you did change your beloved family for a dick,” she shot.

(NARCISSA MALFOY) TALKING HEAD

“I really can’t blame Andy.”

She has a knowing smile as she says this.

(Lucius comes into focus).

He smirks and nods.

[Back to scene]

“Well, Bella, at least I was transparent with my intentions. What were yours exactly? Have a pure and most noble last name and a bit on the side? We’ve all heard about that one, even Cissy, even if she pretends not to.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Andromeda.”

“Tom Riddle. Does it ring a bell? Toujours pur and all that crap only to end your marriage for a fling with none other than an ex - convict,” she spat.

“You’ll drown in your self righteousness, dear. How bored you must be with that husband of yours and all our stupid social norms.”

“You’re talking to me about social norms? You burned my face out of the family’s tapestry when I got engaged to Ted.”

“It was just a game and Cissy fixed it.”

“Just a game? For whom? An arsonist?”

“Your insufferable! Always thinking you’re the better sister, the prettier sister, the perfect sister.”

“I am the prettier sister,” said Narcissa flatly; she had already grown bored of Bella bickering with everyone.

“I never said that!”

“You thought about it! I know you did. You think I’m unbalanced. You think I should be in an insane asylum or something, but I’ll tell you what, I’m smarter than you are. Wait till I fix my hair and climb out of the pit of desperation I’m in and I’ll even be prettier than you are.”

“It’s not a competition, Bella,” reminded Narcissa, “although if it was none of you would stand a chance against me.”

As always, the older sisters ignored the youngest one and concentrated on outsmarting one another. A loud bang came from the other end of the room. Narcissa, cigarette in one hand and lighter in the other, turned her head to see her cousin, Sirius and his husband, Remus. She shot them an almost pleading look as they took seats by her side as Andy and Bella had long since discarded their place.

“Cissa, toss me the light,” he said, lying back on the couch.

“No, no, darling. This is bad for your health,” she answered as she put the cigarette between her lips.  

Sirius raised a brow. “You taught me how to smoke,” he remarked.

As she refused again and he was about to give her some new argument, Remus put his hand on his spouse’s thigh. “Remember your new year’s resolutions,” he said in a sing-song voice.

Sirius groaned.

“What brings you two here. It’s been a while,” said Narcissa.

“Andy told us you invited her and we wanted to make sure Bellatrix didn’t rip her head off,” shrugged Remus.

(ANDROMEDA TONKS) TALKING HEAD

(Andromeda sits on a grey, L shaped couch. Her living room is small and cozy. It looks exceptionally clean. She’s surrounded by plants. Behind her, there’s a big shelf full of frayed books).

“Rip my head off? What, because I’m the only one of the Blacks who wouldn’t be diagnosed as a loony then I’d let Bella walk all over me? No, sir. I showed them right then and there I could also roast someone.”

She looks pleased with herself, but her smile falters a few seconds later.

“Is roast a real term? Did I used it correctly?”

[Back to scene]

Lucius had also joined the others in the drawing room. He cheered on Andromeda every time she said something particularly witty to Bellatrix.

“You go, ‘Meda!” he said after she remarked how everyone breathed a little more peacefully after she moved out.

Andromeda looked at him straight in the eye. “I know you’re my brother in law, but we’re not there yet, honey.”

“I hate her,” he said pointing at Bellatrix, “isn’t that enough?”

The three sisters looked at him, eyebrows elegantly raised.

“Whatever you say now will determine your faith, Lucius,” taunted Sirius.

“I’m also married to her,” Lucius continued, this time pointing at Narcissa, “so you should consider yourself lucky she didn’t run off and have a baby with a convicted felon.”

Remus snorted obnoxiously.

(NARCISSA MALFOY) TALKING HEAD

“I couldn’t smoke while I was pregnant with Draco. Hardest nine months of my life,” she says with a grimace, “it was all worth it, though. I’m living the dream. I mean, who doesn’t want to be in charge of a fifteen years old boy who only babbles about one of his classmates?”

She doesn’t look very convinced.

[Back to scene]

Sirius had joined in the roasting now. Bellatrix had mentioned something about her not being invited to his wedding with Remus. He, in turn, spilling the family tea all over the living room’s floor.

“I never really cared that you were a twi-”

“Tais toi!” screeched Narcissa, not wanting her sister to literally taunt their cousin once again for his sexual orientation. Bella knew exactly who else in the family she was mocking and Narcissa was having absolutely none of that.

DISSOLVE TO: the whole family sitting like scolded kids. Narcissa furiously pacing in front of them.

“This ends here!” she announced, “I’m tired of the Blacks being the absolute worst family in the history of families.”

“What is she saying?” Remus whispered to Sirius while Narcissa kept rambling.

“Shhh,” Sirius mumbled back, “I can barely understand. Somehow her accent keeps getting thicker and thicker.”

“Sirius,” she said. Her cousin perked up at the mention of his name. “When was the last time you saw Nymphadora?”

“Uhh, yesterday?”

“What?!” she exclaimed, “so you see each other regularly?”

“We go to work together.”

“You work?” she asked, even more surprised than before.

“I own a bar,” he shrugged, not surprised that his cousin didn’t know of his whereabouts.

“Of course you do,” interjected Bellatrix, “and what does dearest Nymphadora do?”

“She’s an auror,” Andromeda answered, not allowing any biting remark to come from her sister’s malicious lips.

Narcissa looked at Andromeda curiously. She tried her best to be close with both her sisters and yet somehow she didn’t know know Nymphadora was an auror. In her mind, for some reason, her metamorphmagus niece was still in Hogwarts.  

“She sees Lucius at the Ministry all the time. Just last week she told me they chatted on the elevator,” said Sirius.  

Narcissa shot his husband an accusing look.

“I’ve seen her a couple of times, but I never thought she worked there. I just assumed she roamed the building for...reasons.”

Andy facepalmed as Bella cackled.

“Alright, well those days are over.”

“What days?” asked Remus, afraid to know the answer.

“The days of us not knowing what each other are up to. Auntie Walburga died three years ago,” she said. Andromeda patted Sirius’ back when he frowned at the mention of his satirical mother. “She was the last one of our parents’ generation. It is our chance to start anew, to accept each other. So, it’s decided. We’re having dinner tonight.”

The rest of the family joined in a collective whine, but accepted. Everyone knew better than to mess with Narcissa once she was set on something.

A few hours later, the elves placed all sorts of delicacies at the table. Draco was granted permission to apparate from the school back home, arriving as the rest of the family took their sits. He frowned as he sat by his aunt Bella’s side, who only talked about how he looked like his good for nothing father. He sent a pitiful look at his cousin Nymphadora, who smiled amusedly at him as she tried to start a conversation with Regulus. Sirius and Ted were already talking like old friends and Remus and Lucius shared a laugh at Professor Snape’s expense. Andromeda looked satisfied. Narcissa, at the head of the table, eyed her family proudly.

“Levitate the potatoes my way, please Nymphadora?” said Draco. He wasn’t particularly close with his cousin, but he knew she hated the name.

“Don’t. Call. Me. Nymphadora!” she said as she pushed the potatoes a bit too harshly towards him. Her changed from purple to a shade of red.

“I like you already,” said Bella.

“That’s a very bad sign,” muttered Remus.

(LUCIUS MALFOY) TALKING HEAD.

(Lucius sits on the same elegant armchair as before. He has his legs crossed and the attitude of a dandy).

“Life is full of changes. Some big, some small. I learned a long time ago you can fight it or try to make the best of it. And that's all a lot easier if you've got people who love you to help you face whatever life throws at you,” he says, an affectionate smile on his face.

He then frowns worriedly. “I just hope my house doesn’t become the designated place of gathering. My peacocks couldn’t take it.”

Roll Credits 

[chappedandfadedvds]

Nov 26th, Thursday 23:17

„I thought you’d be in bed already?“

Jens had just finished the dishes, ready to head to bed, after he spent hours trying to get all his notes for his french test ready next week. He wasn’t worried that he would fail. Perhaps a little worried.

His mother stood in the doorway to her room, when he reached the last step, causing him to watch her perplexed.

„Me too, but it looks like my side of the bed was taken before I had a chance.“

Curious Jens went up to her, sticking his head over her shoulder. Lotte was his mom’s bed, sleeping peacefuly despite the lamp on the night stand lighting the room.

They just stood there for a moment and watched the little girl. Til his mom took a step back, weak on her feet. He helped her get down and joined right after. Causing them both to sit side by side, propped up against the wall across the stairs. He had his legs pulled up, his arms hugging his knees as he stared straight ahead.

„Lucas is my boyfriend.“

It just bursted out of him, the first thing that had come to mind. He probably should have said it sooner. He didn’t even know why he hadn’t done that til now.

„No! Really?“ His mother exclaimed shoked in pretence, nudging him lightly as she chuckled.

„What reaction do you want? Strict parent, or not understanding mother, or perhaps I could tell you, I always knew you weren’t as hetero as you believed. Even though that would be a lie.“

Jens bit his lip to contain his amusement. Instead he tilted his head as if he needed to consider her words. Jens definitely knew who was responsible for his personality. Even though they only had gotten as close and on par with each other since the diagnoses. She wasn’t just a parent any longer to him. He wished they had been like that earlier. They had fought rather often. Certainly him having been to blame for most of it. Sneaking out to meet Britt and later Jana, or getting caught coming home high and drunk. Perhaps he had to change first to get to this point.

„How about your genuine feelings?“

He therefore asked, not much worried that she would dismiss his boyfriend. It took her a second to think about it before she spoke.

„Obviously I like him a lot, and I’m glad you have him, you always seem happier with Lucas around. He is very kind. And he can keep up with your assholery.“ 

„Assholery?“ He snorted. 

„Yes, hush! You can really suck sometimes. And regarding him being a boy. I don’t care. I just want you to be loved, respected and supported. That’s all that is important to me.“

Lucas was that, wasn’t he? 

„I just wanted to actually tell you this, you know, in person. Out loud.“ 

His mother nodded, grinning at him, as they both had turned their heads while talking. Though he brought his eyes back onto the banister of the stairs infront of him, pulling on the ends of his hoodie’s sleves.

„Don’t you think it’s unfair to him?“

„What is?“ 

„This. Like I know I’m his real first relationship. And I had Britt and Jana and, like, other girls before him. I feel like I’m keeping him from something. I don’t know what exactly. Dating around. Hooking up casually. Not remembering the girl you drunk kissed last night at a party.“

„Speaking from experience, I take it.“ His mother sounded gleeful as she said it. She wasn’t wrong. Not that he would actually tell her that. She knew anyway. So he went on. 

„Just something that makes him regret it in the future, if he stays for all of this that is my fucking life.“

„You haven’t talked about this with him?“ 

Jens stayed silent. They both knew better than expecting him openly talking about his personal feelings. Late night talks with his mom though made it easier.

„I think Lucas is at an age to decide that for himself. In fact you are both graduating soon, just enjoy the time you two get to have. You are both teenagers. Nobody expects this to last forever. You are dating for what? A month? Don’t worry about what’s after, and talk to him, tell him what you think. Take it easy.“

She concluded, reaching over to place her hand on his knee. Her thumb brushing over it in light circles.

���I don’t know.“

„Then what do you actually know?“

Sometimes his mother murdered him in cold blood with her quips. 

“Hey!” He exclaimed accusatory. She was his mother. She had to love him unconditional. Not be mean to him.

They both were nonetheless enjoying the quiet banter and even the silence that followed when the two of them were each sunken in their own heads.

„I’ve written your father.“ His mother suddenly said, making his head spun round. He hadn’t known they were in contact. The last two years went completely by without any message nor a mention of his dad. 

„I don’t have his phone number, but his mail adress, and so I’ve told him today about everything that is happening right now. He is still the man I had planned to grow old with, the man I’d die next to. Even after all these years I can’t quite forget about him. He should know at least.“

She sounded saddened as she spoke, her voice low and resigned.

„I’m not gonna let him come back here and take Lotte.“

It was all Jens honestly cared for, even if it was cold to ignore his mothers remeining love for his father. He knew that his parents were officially still married. To his knowledge neither his father nor his mother ever hadn’t gotten into a serious relationship after they broke it off.

„Let me finish, okay?“  She interrupted his thoughts. „I also did it to send him a form Alex gave me for him to sign, and waive his position of choice as the legal guardian. I thought you may not want to talk to him yourself. It’s also one less thing for you to worry about it.“

„Thank you.“ He was greateful for that, honestly. He should have stopped at that, yet still found himself asking: „Why did you let him do this to you?“

„What?“ She looked at him puzzled, perhaps retracing her words to figure out what Jens was getting at.

„Let him leave you.“ He expanded on his question. Something he realised he had thought about since his father had left them six years ago. Jens probably should have asked this years ago in order to understand, because he never could figure it out. His father was just gone for months on end, and one day for good.

„It wasn’t something that came over night. We both knew since we began dating at university. He had always talked about his plans and ambitions. And I always reminded him that I wanted children more than anything else. So he gave me you three to love and I gave him his freedom.“

„Aren’t you regretting it?“

„Letting him go?“

Jens nodded. Yes exactly. Like how can you merry a person you know will leave you at some point. Maybe even a fixed point as his father began his expeditions and travels right after his phd.

„No. Well sometimes. When you three drove me crazy. Especially that one day you decided to give your baby sister the cream jar, for her to smear all over the living room, herself and you included. I had to bath you three for an hour to get everything washed out. Cried two more hours after. And the armchair, the poor armchair had to be thrown out.“ 

She laughed, as she indulged in her reminiscence. He couldn’t help but smile at her. They really had done some dumb stuff when they were younger. How his mother had managed to keep Lies and him in check while tending to Lotte was a mystery to Jens.

„But no I don’t regret ever having had all of you. Nor having let him follow his passion and do his work. I think he would have stayed had I asked him to. But he would have come to resent me for it one day. Sometimes you have to let people go because you love them.“

„Sounds stupid.“

His mother just giggled at his blunt response. She rose her hand ruffling his hair, ignoring his complaint as leaned away to escape her teasing.

„Maybe you are right.“ She admitted sheeply. „I am your mother, but I really don’t know shit.“ She grinned brightly at him as he watched her amused. „To let you in on the secret of adulthood. You just have to wing it most of the times and hope for the best.“

His groan could have probably woken his sister if she wouldn’t be such a deep sleeper.

„This sucks.“

„It does.“ She agreed without hesitation, trying to comfort him with a kiss to his forehead. It helped a little.

„So what are your plans?“

„For what?“

„I don’t know.“ She shrugged, leaving him none the wiser on if she was playing at something. Maybe Lucas had talked to her today? 

„Senne invited us all for christmas to go to his grandparent’s cabin in switzerland.“

„Really?“ He hadn’t expected her to look so happy while surprised.

„Yes.“ The confirmation was just a little whisper. He was uncomfortable to talk about it. Jens knew she would want him to go. And he knew he couldn’t just leave her at home, and enjoy his holidays, knowing his mom’s declining health. What kind of son would he be?

„Wow now I’m very jealous.“

„I’m not going.“ He cut her off, before she could say anything else. Of course it was already to late, her cheery expression already faltering.

„Why? Come on, Jens, tell them that you will join their trip.“

„It would be our last christmas.“

He only had to send her one look, to make her understand and sigh.

„I know. But I’d rather have you spend some weeks away from all of this. Get your head free a little, get distracted. I had planned to go see my mom in Brussel anyway, if I can, before... You know. So you could drop off Lotte and me on the way and then see your friends. Sit in front of a fire with them. Kiss your boyfriend on a mountaintop. I don’t know. Just enjoy your time, before you’ll have your little sister tag along on any other vacation for the next couple of years.“

It sounded so easy when his mother said it. As if he could just turn his brain off for a moment and not think about her all the time when she wasn’t around. But he supposed she had a point. Especially at the end of her little monologue.

„Geez. You might be right.“

„I always am. So you are going?“

He kinda hated how bold she smiled, knowing she had made him consider it and probably accept Senne’s invitation. Damn her.

„I’ll sleep on it.“ He sighed once more, while he rolled his eyes especially hard.

„Good enough for me. We should probably head to bed as well. When will Lucas be here with his mom for breakfast again?“ 

Oh. That reminded Jens of what he actually had wanted to do after dinner, when he had stood in his room questioning why he had made the trip upstairs in the first place He definitely had taken his phone off the charger and down back to the kitchen, didn’t meant he had actually sent the text.

„Eh... Shit, should probably message him. I forgot. What was it? Nine thirty? Ten?“

Lucas had said something before he had left. 

„I can’t believe I am leaving all of this and the responsibitliies to you.“

His mother cluck her tounge, as she shook her head. Her expression definitely amused.

„Funny. Come, I’ll help you up.“ He said getting to his feet first before he extended his hand for her to take. They both needed a moment to recover, stretching in place after having lingered in the same position for a while. And on the hard floor as well. 

In turn it was her now reaching out for him, to nudge him towards her room. Both squeezing in on the free side of the bed. His mother only reaching over to turn off the light and call it a day.

__ __ __

tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 24

AO3 link here

On Sunday, as they are preparing to eat breakfast, Rose calls and tells them without fanfare that the double mastectomy she’d had two years ago might have held things at bay, but the cancer is back.

“It’ll be worse this time,” she says over speakerphone as Peggy’s toast burns and the kettle whistles without answer. “No more body parts I’m not using to offer up instead. They’re saying it’ll be chemo now, and pretty aggressive.”

(Last time, Rose had decided on mastectomy without much fuss, got through the recovery as quickly as possible, and got back to work. The only real sign of change was that her repertoire of tops and suit jackets, fitted to her sturdy, busty figure, had to be replaced.)

On Monday, before sunset, they arrive in New York. Rose said that her oncologist wanted to get her started very soon, which scared Steve more than anything. Last time the wisdom had been to wait and see, the doctor advising more tests, careful consideration, avoiding jumping into anything, before Rose’s tough and unsentimental practicality had steamrolled that plan. Now they are moving forward with barely enough time for him to process things. Cancer has always been serious, even now, but this seems to be an emergency.

(His kids might have been grown, Steve was always reminding them all to have regular checkups, to make sure to get their kids vaccinated on time, to get a flu shot each fall. It’s how they caught it so early on Rosie’s annual mammogram the first time. It’s how they found it again now, and Steve is so glad, so glad, so awfully glad.)

Rose greets them in socks, her hair fluffy around her shoulders, wearing her glasses instead of her contacts: nighttime Rosie.

“I told you that you didn’t have to come,” she says, hugging them each anyway.

“Don’t be absurd.” Peggy carries her suitcase through the doorway and back to the guest bedroom. “We’re your parents.”

“She’s right,” Steve tells Rose, who wraps her arms around him again and says, “Thanks, Daddy,” before reaching up to kiss his cheek.

That just terrifies him more.

It has been a long while since they had a quiet evening alone, but with Rose sleeping at a friend’s, they take full advantage.

“Pass the ice cream, would you please?” Peggy licks some of the blueberry filling off the side of her finger as she waits for Steve to slide the container across the table. She scoops a healthy amount onto her pie and observes it with satisfaction before digging in. Her bare legs are crossed politely at the ankle although she’s wearing only one of the button-up pajama tops that Steve refuses to.

“You should have let me warm the pie first,” Steve says. Disapproval doesn’t quite come out the right way when he is licking ice cream off of his own spoon and can’t stop himself smiling as he does.

“You’re becoming quite the perfectionist,” she teases. “Are you concerned that Irma Rombauer is peering through our front window?”

“I hope not. She’ll spot in a second that I didn’t homemake the ice cream.” He is lifting another spoonful of the local dairy’s excellent product to his mouth when the phone rings. There is a standoff where neither of them moves, unwilling to disrupt the moment, but then Steve sighs and answers.

Three minutes later, he is fully dressed again, back in the kitchen to find his keys.

“And Mrs. Solomon didn’t specify when was wrong?” Peggy asks. She’s returned the ice cream to the freezer while he was gone and is sitting in her chair again, the pie untouched on her plate. “Rose was fine this morning.”

“As if she would have mentioned if she wasn’t. And risk missing the big sleepover?” Steve finds his keys beneath the mail on the kitchen counter.

“Well, then, I’m afraid she might be dying.” Despite the attempted sarcasm, Steve can hear the worry beneath her tone. She looks up at him and takes his hand as he walks past. “We did have a good reason for deciding to become parents, didn’t we? Because I’m finding this sort of constant concern quite unpleasant.”

Steve kisses her upturned mouth. “Comes with the territory, I think,” he says. “But so do the good parts.”

Rose comes home, sleepy and exasperated and a little teary from the pain that Steve has expertly diagnosed as a common ear infection, held in her father’s arms. Her mother, clad now in her sensible dressing gown (though her hair is still strewn about her shoulders), prescribes a hot bath and some late night blueberry pie. By the time she has finished her portion, Rosie is laughing.

She falls asleep in her parents’ bed, snug between them. Peggy strokes her hair.

“Oh, yes,” she says fondly. “The good parts.”

The first few sessions are not as bad as he had feared. Rose feels fine after the first, tired after the second, a little under the weather after the third.

The fourth is like a truck hit her.

Peggy holds her hair back as Rose kneels in front of the toilet, smoothing a palm over her forehead. She cannot keep her hand steady enough to shave the hair off with the electric razor that Rose insistently sent Steve to pick up at Duane Reade. She blames her age. Steve catches a breath beneath the buzz of the razor because for Peggy to claim such a thing, her fear must be worse than he had ever considered.

Steve makes soup endlessly. His mother’s recipe is not so much that as it is instructions consisting of “Put whatever you have that seems appropriate in the pot, add water, don’t be afraid of salt, keep it on the flame until it smells good.” But he always admired her transformation of what were essentially bones and scraps into something that did smell good. He’d found comfort in it, in the way she’d come home tired and still try to fill up the house with warmth for him. He knows he’s trying to do the same for Rose, even as she asks for smaller and smaller portions.

They don’t spend all of their time in the apartment, going together for Rose’s appointments and treatments whenever they’re scheduled. The hospital is better than Steve remembered, better than he thought it would be: plastic has replaced creaky and unwelcoming metal, nurses walk the halls in their scrubs and tired smiles rather than walling themselves in starch and impatience. People so often walk out healthy. Rose has a comfortable armchair and popsicles from the freezer nearby when she wants them.

He sits there, beside that comfortable chair, watching his daughter being filled up with poison that is meant to save her.

Science has given him his life so many times over. It gave him this life. He tries to trust it. He can’t stand what it is doing to her.

The worst part is watching her get fuzzy and unfocused. “Chemo brain,” the nurses tell them. “It’s normal.” But this isn’t normal for Rose, who was so obviously smart even in those furious months right after she’d come home to them, who takes such pride in a case well-argued and a strategy well-built. She takes leave from work when it is obvious that she won’t be able to manage much for now.

“I think this is the longest vacation I’ve had in years,” she tries to joke as she puts on her headphones and starts a new romance audiobook. She’s found a series that she can enjoy even if she tunes in and out.

Peggy is the one who keeps track of the appointments and medications, who consults with the doctors and then consults with them again, with slow and charming menace, when she thinks that she might not have gotten the full story. Steve is the one who holds Peggy at night as she readies herself for another day.

“I thought we had passed the difficult parts of parenting,” she says against his shoulder one night. She is not crying, but her breath shudders in and out.

“I think we got the difficult parts forever when we signed up.” He looks up at the ceiling, knowing how the streetlights will peek through the blinds. This room might be theirs at this point.

“If I could--” he starts quietly. He doesn’t know how to continue: if he could trade places with Rose? If he could transfer some sort of healing ability to her instead? If he could give up anything to make her well? But he knows that it’s all true.

Peggy nods against him. “I would as well.”

They see other parents at the hospital, oftentimes with patients younger than Rose. It is not arrogance to say that none of them have had the life experience that Steve and Peggy have. Their eyes still look the same.

Rose comes home from her first semester at Smith and gets the flu immediately. All her vacation plans are put on hold as she lies in bed, first groggy, then grumpy.

“Dad!” Steve hears her call from where he is in the kitchen, having remembered to put together a lunch tray for her. Rose’s semester might have ended, but he is still in the midst of final papers and exams. Now that he is in his master’s program, he somehow doesn’t quite have the confidence he gained over the past four years as an undergraduate. He’s trying to do everything exactly right, and keeps having to unbury himself from his work to check on Rosie.

“Can you please sit with me?” she begs as soon as he comes into the room. He sets the tray on her lap and leans to feel her forehead. Still cool, though her voice sounds raspy and there are tissues scattered around her nightstand.

“Do you need something?” he asks.

“Someone to talk to, please,” she says fervently. “I’m not going to try to pretend I’m ready to leave the house, but I’m absolutely bored to death.”

Steve spots the novel she’s tossed to the end of the bed in agitation, its pages fallen pathetically open. “I can see that,” he says wryly. He thinks of the pile of work downstairs, his notes and textbooks and the essay half finished in the typewriter. He thinks of himself bed during all those long hours when Bucky and his mother were busy, when he had finished all of his library books and hadn’t gotten a new batch, when even his careful conservation efforts had left him without art supplies and there wasn’t quite enough stretch to his mother’s paycheck for anything new. He remembers watching out of the window during all those hours, listening to the games down on the street and imagining the taste of the blue of the sky.

“I certainly know what that’s like,” he tells Rose, at which she snorts and says, “Okay, Dad, as if you ever get sick.”

How strange it is, to hear her say that. “Let me get a deck of cards,” he says hastily.

Between bites of her grilled cheese, Rose beats him at several hands of gin rummy, then they switch to War and she tells him what college has been like behind her excitement and the confidence she shows her sisters and brother: that she sat through her first real lecture and found that everyone else was already giving answers before she even thought of the questions, the time she attended a formal dinner with the faculty and nearly knocked a candlestick over onto the beautifully set table, how she had only managed to get a chorus part in the play but the other girls there ended up becoming her best friends. After enough stories and a few games of War, she is even willing to play chess with him, something she swore years ago that she would never do again. But he catches sight of the clock as he goes to get the board and realizes that it’s time to go pick up Emma from school. When they get back, Nate and Drea are home, curled up beside the bed talking to Rosie, and Emma races up to join them. He watches her with a bit of longing before he goes to the kitchen to start dinner.

He has to stay up late that night to finish his own work, but it’s all worth it.

There are plenty of visitors. The Barneses and the Starks are local, and so call asking if they can drop by often. (There’s a week where Tony shows up nearly every day, apparently having decided that “visiting a cancer patient” is some sort of excuse for procrastination. He gets back to it, pouting, when he realizes that Pepper has been handling things entirely fine without him and has barely even noticed that he wasn’t showing up.

Drea and her family come from Boston every other weekend if they can, and Emma and Nate usually trade off coming up on the alternate weeks. When Rose is at her worst, Steve and Peggy ask whether it’s a good idea to allow their grandchildren to see her that way. Despite choosing not to have children of her own (she claimed she was “too busy and too selfish” for it), she has always been an excellent aunt, treating her nephews and nieces to Broadway shows, shopping sprees, and meals out whenever they made it to New York, always available for catching up over the phone or convincing a parent of some scheme when asked. As difficult as it is to realize, though, even the grandchildren are all grown or nearly there. Tess will turn 16 in just a couple of months, and although they still think of Julie as the baby, she will follow suit before the end of the year. And even if they weren’t, would it really be healthier to quarantine them from her as if she was dying?

Besides, it is clearly good for Rose to be surrounded by the people who love her. She might let comments fly by without a smart retort or drift off to sleep if a treatment’s taken a lot out of her, but she always smiles when she wakes up and finds her family talking over one another and chattering about every possible topic.

It isn’t just family, either. When people show up at Rose’s place or the hospital, Steve recognizes some of them, like Rose’s old secretary. Others are strangers, though they go out of their way to introduce themselves to him.

“She came to speak to my class in law school,” one of the associates from Rose’s firm tells him. “Just leaned back on the desk, crossed her arms, and said, ‘So, human rights,’ and I knew immediately that I needed to work with her.”

There’s the middle aged woman and her teenaged daughter who seem to have a million private jokes with Rose although they apparently met when they spent three nights in Rose’s guest bedroom on an emergency referral from the domestic violence organization she’s been working with since after college. There’s another woman, a friend of a friend, who stayed three months after she lost her job and was evicted from her former apartment. One of Rosie’s college friends comes by at least once a week.

“She was there for me when I was going through the same thing,” she says when Peggy asks delicately whether they’re keeping her from something else. “My kids had dinner that I didn’t have to cook practically every night of my treatment because she was there organizing it.” She laughs. “Not doing the actual cooking, though, thank goodness.”

On the cab ride back one evening - just the two of them; Peggy is already back at the apartment - Rose leans herself drowsily on Steve’s shoulder. He runs a hand over her hair, which has grown back down around her ears by now. (She thinks it makes her look like an awkward thirteen-year-old, but is persevering until it’s at a more flattering length.)

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, very quietly, although he isn’t certain she’s awake enough to hear him. “What you’ve built for yourself here...It’s so special.”

“Well, I learned it from you,” she murmurs.

“Hmm?”

“You remember that time--I must have been with you and Mom for four, five months. I woke up in the night and I knew that I was going to throw up. And I just lay there, hoping that if I didn’t move, it wouldn’t happen.

“I’m still not sure how you realized - I was so careful not to move or make any noise - but you came into the room, this big shadow in the darkness, and asked if I was okay. And I started to cry a little, so you picked me up, and I absolutely--I hadn’t known I could puke so much. It was all over you. And you just went, “Oh,” and then you asked me if I was feeling better. You got everything cleaned up - bath, teeth brushed, new pajamas and sheets, big bowl next to the bed just in case - and after you went to change, you gave me some seltzer and rubbed my back until I fell asleep. And when I woke up, you were still sitting right where you had been. It was the first time I could remember that kind of love being given to me, that support of just being there.”

Steve swallows. He racks his memory and can think of a million little examples of Rose having been sick - the summer cold that kept her trapped inside instead of playing, the stomach virus that she passed on to the rest of the kids - but he can’t seem to grasp onto that one. It’s escaping him, this first moment of his daughter knowing that he loved her.

“Your friends,” he says, “are so lucky to have you. Everyone is. And I’m so lucky to have played any part in it.”

When Steve and Peggy finally go home, the house is cold and smells unfamiliar. It hasn’t been entirely untouched while they’ve been in New York - they’ve been back for brief visits, and Emma and Eric, and Nate and Eleanor, all live close enough to have checked on things occasionally - but it’s like stepping into a pair of shoes unworn for a long while. They turn on more lights than necessary, and Steve makes an aromatic stew and fresh bread for dinner.

Rose’s oncologist is incredibly pleased with her progress. The chemo seems to be doing its job, and with time and medication to help manage them, her side effects have, blessedly, lessened. She’s gained back a significant amount of energy, started working again - mostly behind the scenes and sometimes from home, but building up to the number of hours she puts in each week - and is on track to finish her chemo in a few more months.

They had almost decided to stay for the duration, but Rose’s network of friends had assured them that they could keep things covered for the next while until she is - please, please - allowed to stop regular treatment.

Peggy sits, stirring her bowl of stew and looking around at the kitchen. It’s changed since they first moved in, appliances obviously updated, but the paint and wallpaper and tile refreshed too.

One day, when it is someone else’s, they won’t know about the places where Emma and Nate colored on the walls, or about the burn on the counter from when Drea put down the Thanksgiving turkey directly out of the oven. They won’t see the traces of Rose’s dubious kitchen experimentation, won’t know about all of the family dinners and the laughter and the squabbling.

“They’ve been grown so much longer than they were children--” she says

“But for us they still are. Always will be.” Steve smiles, soft and tired and loving. “Was it worth it? Knowing what you do now about how hard it would be?”

She takes his hand and echoes his own thoughts back at him: “I would do it over again in a heartbeat. All of it. In a heartbeat.”

More chapters here

[mooxnlights]

Never a Burden - Part Two

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Characters: Tommy x reader, Polly, Ada, Charlie, Karl

Warnings: none, swearing, pregnancy

Word Count: 1,788

Requested: Yes

Anon: Please do part two of never a burden???

@maddeecarter: I realllly liked the Thomas Shelby- Burden writing. Would it be possible to do a part 2? Or just a separate thing where the reader tells tommy she’s pregnant? If not, that’s ok! Your writing was really good and I could imagine the shock of the reader as Polly mentioned a baby so I thought it could be an idea!

@holdyourselfinmyhands: Loved your tommy Shelby fic! It Was so good. Was wondering if you were gonna do a second part to it? X

Plus a few of you even got in my messages lmao.

A/N: You have probably all forgotten about this because I’m trash and have taken so long to get this written but here is part two. You can read part one here. Also Lizzy and her kid don’t exist because I h8 her so with that let’s get onto the story.

y/n = your name

It had been two weeks since your incident at the betting shop, two weeks since Polly had come up with the ridiculous notion that you were pregnant, only it wasn’t so ridiculous. Tommy had given you the rest of the week off with pay despite your protests, insisting that you needed rest. Rest wasn’t at all what you got though as the day after you had fainted in your boyfriend’s office Polly had booked you an appointment to confirm her gut feeling. 

It has been two weeks since you found out you were pregnant with Thomas Shelby’s baby. Two weeks of keeping this secret to yourself. It’s not that you didn’t want to tell Tommy you were just terrified of what his reaction would be. What if he didn’t want another kid? What if Grace was the only woman he wanted to bear his children? You couldn’t say that the timing was the worst it could be, things with Tommy’s work had gradually started to slow down to a bearable pace and wasn’t so crazy, it had actually slowed down enough for him to do exactly what he had hoped, take a few days off a week leaving things in the hands of his brothers as he helped out with your siblings. Although in terms of what you had going on at home you had no idea how you would handle a pregnancy and eventually a child in the midst of everything. 

True to his word Tommy had trusted doctors looking after your mother in the nicest room of the closest hospital after she had been diagnosed with pneumonia, the doctors had reassured you that they had caught it in the early stages and she just needed some professional care and monitoring for a short while. Most of Tommy’s visits consisted of him bringing Charlie around, taking you and your brothers out to the pictures, or driving and accompanying you, your brothers and father up to the hospital to visit your mother. Thomas had also graciously been taking care of the bills and groceries at your home so that your father could have some time off work to help look after the kids, having one of the blinders take over his shifts at the factory that way he wouldn’t be sacked and could still get his pay check. To say that your family had become quite fond of Tommy would be an understatement. Your parents saw him as a guardian angel who had swooped in at the perfect time and were extremely grateful for everything he has been doing for you all. Your brothers very quickly became attached after the first full day Tommy had spent with them, ever since then they don’t seem to stop asking when he’s next visiting or telling you about how great he is.

You were currently bouncing Charlie on your knee as he babbled some unintelligible toddle gibberish to you while Tommy was in the middle of some type of chasing game with the boys, their shouts and laughs filling the house. Your father was spending the afternoon at the hospital with your mum, despite Tommy’s offers to drive him there your dad insisted that the 30 minute walk would be good for him. You stood up, holding Charlie on your hip at the sound of a knock on the door that you could have easily missed due to the thundering footsteps coming from upstairs. Walking to the door and opening it your eyes went wide at the site of Polly waiting at the threshold accompanied by Ada who had little Karl clinging to her hand. This couldn’t be good.

“What are you doing here Pol?” You questioned sternly.

She said nothing as she walked past you and towards the living room where you were just sitting, Ada smiled apologetically as she gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before following Polly in. You quickly shut the door and were right behind them, putting Charles down on the floor next to Karl who had discovered a pile of toys left behind by your brothers.

“I think a congratulations is in order,” Ada announced with a grin looking at you knowingly as she and Polly took a seat on the couch.

“Jesus Polly,” you groaned settling into the armchair across from them and resting your head in your hands, “I haven’t even told Tommy yet, you can’t just-”

“Haven’t told Tommy what?”

You tensed and remained still, you had missed the sudden silence that had come from upstairs that was the result of your boyfriend halting his antics with your siblings at the sound of visitors. You could feel his presence mere meters from you as he walked further into the room.

The silence was deafening before Polly spoke up, “that’s actually what we’re here about, why don’t you two go for a walk and we’ll watch the boys while you're out.”

“I really don’t think-” you began before Tommy cut you off.

“Great idea Pol, come on then y/n,” he responded, the agitation in his voice evident as went over to Charlie and gave him a kiss on the cheek before getting up and swiftly walking towards the door pulling on his coat.

With a sigh you glanced towards the two women still sat on the couch watching you carefully, both giving you a look that told you it was time. You walked over to where Tommy was waiting and called out to your brothers that you would be back soon and to come down and meet Karl. Pulling on your own coat you quickly made your way outside, paces ahead of Tommy who was still closing your front door.

Neither of you said a word as you walked, Tommy having caught up now and keeping a firm grip on your upper arm to slow you down, it took 10 minutes of complete silence before you came to a stop at the docks. There were people around, a lot of them Tommy’s guys that were loading up small and large boats, you took barely any notice of them however as you took a seat on a random crate that was out of the way of the workers.

“So are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Tommy questioned lighting a cigarette.

You looked around at your surroundings scrunching your nose up as you pictured all the other more tasteful ways you could have told him, immediately regretting keeping this information to yourself for so long.

“Well?” He pressed at your silence, his irritation at this new found secrecy apparent, “what are you not telling me that for some reason my sister and fucking aunt already know about, hey?”

“Don’t be mad,” you muttered watching as he paced in front of you taking drag after drag of his cigarette.

“Why shouldn't I be mad? We're meant to tell each other shit y/n, what could possibly be going on that you're not-”

“I’m pregnant Tommy,” you interrupted looking away from him. Not wanting to see the look on his face when you told him, terrified of his reaction.

There was a long silence before you heard scraping against the gravel, you slowly moved your gaze and saw Tommy sitting down on another crate in front of you. You held his gaze as he threw his cigarette to the side and took your hands in his while clearing his throat.

“Are you happy?” He asked seriously, looking into your eyes.

“What do you mean?” You questioned looking down at your joined hands.

“I mean are you happy about the situation? Do you want a child?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a mum you know that,” you sighed, “but right now I’m more concerned about you. Are you happy about this? About this happening now?”

“There’s not going to ever be a perfect time to have a kid y/n but I mean, with Charlie still so young, it’d be nice to have another little one around his age running about.”

You noticed the smile tugging at his lips as he spoke causing a wave of relief to rush over you, but you still had to ask.

“So you are okay with all of this? You want to have a baby with me?”

“I want to have everything with you,” he said sincerely. “And I’m going to do it right this time, I’m not going to let anyone ever hurt you or the baby.”

You could see in his eyes the pain he felt when he thought about everything that happened with Grace and Charlie, but he was determined to never expose you to that life, because if he did and something were to happen to you it would be the end of him. You were his saviour, you taught him to love when he was so sure he’d never feel that way about another woman again. And now you’ve given him the greatest gift he could have asked for.

You stayed quiet as Tommy stood pulling you up with him and turning to walk, one hand in yours, tugging you along gently back towards your home.

“So, do you have any names in mind?” He asked with a smile.

“I’ve been so stressed about finding a way to tell you I haven't even thought that far down the line yet,” you respond with a giggle moving closer to his side and holding onto his arm with the hand that wasn't holding his.

He didn’t respond to this, obviously not liking the idea that you didn’t feel like you could come to him straight away with this news.

“What are you hoping for? Boy or girl?” You questioned changing the subject.

“I don’t mind, as long as everything goes smoothly with the two of you I’m happy with either.”

“Oh come on, surely you have a preference,” you stated calling out his bluff, to which he simply smiled and looked down to the ground. “Well I for one would love a girl, we have too many boys right now, plus they're so exhausting, I should know, I’m raising four of them.”

“Four?”

“Well yeah, my brothers, Charlie and you. With your behaviour and recklessness you're practically a child,” you teased looking over at him.

“A child am I?” Tommy mused grinning, letting go of your hand and wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer to him

“Mhm, I’m telling you its a good thing you've got me around to keep you out of trouble,” you joked as you leaned into his side continuing your trek down the street.

“It is a good thing indeed my love,” Tommy replied softly before pressing a long kiss to your forehead.

[mewtonian-physics]

Hi!! Question for ya: which BSD character is your most loved, and why? ☆

Ohhhh, what a hard question. I love so many of them! Dazai, Chuuya, and Ranpo are my top three, but if I had to choose only one…

Ah, I love Chuuya so much but I have to discard him. Dazai or Ranpo… Dazai or Ranpo… 

Can I say both? I’ll say both and you can yell at me later if you don’t like that, haha.

Full disclosure: I haven’t caught up with the manga yet, I’m still working on that. So I could be totally wrong about some things.

I’ll start with Dazai, because it’s probably going to get a bit dark and I want to get that out of the way first.

Aaaah, Dazai, Dazai, Dazai. My view of him is subjective and of course prone to being colored by my own bias, but here goes.

The way I see it, he’s trying. He’s trying to do what Odasaku said, and be a better person, but it doesn’t always work. At his core he’s still a very flawed human being, after all, and it’s not like you can just change overnight. As someone who often tries and fails to be a better person myself, I feel like he’s probably struggling with that a lot and I respect him for it.

His general demeanor is also extremely familiar to me. To delve into a somewhat heavy subject, well… I dealt with a fair amount of physical and psychological abuse when I was very young, and I’ll freely admit that it’s left me with a lot of issues. Most of the time, though, my friends and even family have a hard time telling, because I’ve learned to keep it locked up, so to speak. In my peer group, I am the funny one, the happy one, the one who’s always doing something silly or downright ridiculous. I’m also the one who occasionally makes over-the-top comments in the vein of gallows humor, brushing off death and casually mentioning suicide like it’s no big deal. If people notice that something’s wrong, they don’t show it–as far as I can tell they think everything’s one big joke to me, albeit one that can be in rather poor taste.

So when I first got the chance to really see Dazai, this man who treats life like it’s a game and death like a good friend he can’t quite get in touch with, I fell in love, so to speak. I saw a reflection of myself. Now, I don’t know for certain if that’s really how he is or if my view’s colored by my own experiences. But I felt like I understood, like I knew how he felt and how much he was trying to make everyone else and even himself believe that things were okay, that everything wasn’t falling apart.

Plus, that ‘I like suicide, but I don’t like suffering or pain’ line is one of the most relatable things I’ve seen come out of BSD… it may or may not be one of the reasons I’m around today, along with the fact that I do have several wonderful friends who know my troubles and help support me. They’re my Armed Detective Agency, so to speak. (If you’re reading this, you know who you are, or at least I hope you do. Love you lots. ♡)

Dazai’s very close to my heart for that reason; he’s someone who I want to see succeed and gain happiness because in that way I can find hope for myself. It’s a bit selfish, but I never claimed to be anything else.

Anyway, that’s how I feel about him. I’ll happily make fun of him when it suits me, though. Sometimes he’s just too absurd to not laugh at.

Next up, Ranpo.

I’m a sucker for the ‘odd genius’ archetype, particularly when it comes to detectives. Sherlock Holmes? L? I adore them with every fiber of my being. It’s something I’ve loved since I was a child. I can recall begging my mother to buy me Holmes stories when I was young.

She bought me the abridged children’s version, which is, as I vaguely recall Charlie Brown once saying, like drinking diluted root beer. But that’s beside the point.

Ranpo is just… aaa. I’m not particularly good at detailed character analysis, but here goes.

First of all, there are definitely parts of him that are very relatable. I may or may not have armchair diagnosed him with autism early on–that’s by no means a definite, but as an autistic person myself, I started recognizing a lot of little things about him. Recently a friend of mine had me read the scene with him and Fukuzawa in the theater, asking if it read like a meltdown to me, and honestly I about lost my head over it, because… well, it did. There’s a lot about him that’s familiar to me. This is of course a subjective opinion, and others might disagree entirely. That’s okay. To me, an autistic Ranpo is a wonderful idea that I doubt I’ll ever let go of.

He’s a little gremlin, too. It’s amazing to me just how childish he can be, yet then when he puts on the glasses he’s suddenly absolutely brilliant. I love that he’s so smart and yet so helpless sometimes… that does admittedly tie into the autism thing.

The ability-which-is-not-an-ability is something which I personally think was a great idea from a writer’s perspective, though from a more in-story perspective it makes me sad. Poor Ranpo. I want him to be confident in himself and his intelligence and not feel bad because it isn’t a ‘real’ ability. I want to give him sweets and soda and all the praise in the world. I want him to be happy with the world and with himself. After all, as long as he’s fine, everything’s fine, right?

Thank you for your question(I love being asked about things I’m interested in, so it was really nice), and I hope the answer satisfies you!

[tipsycad147]

Animals and Witchcraft

(The Witches Familiar)

Written and compiled by George Knowles

Introduction

Since time began animals have been revered and worshipped as spirits of nature, known to the ancients as power animals or the animal guides of the Gods.  Many animals therefore became associated with various deities, such like:  Diana and the Hound, Heqet (or Heket) and the Toad, Proserpina and the Raven, Pan with the Goat and Athena with the Owl.  Most other deities in one way or another became associated with animals.  The ancients believed animals were closer to nature than humans, and would perform rituals and make offerings to their spirits in attempts to communicate with them.

Old shamans believed that all things and beings, particularly animals, were possessed of a spirit or soul, and that one could attract parts of their soul, thus their spirit and powers with mimicry.  To achieve this they dressed in appropriate animal furs and feathers or wore horns and fierce looking masks while performing dance and imitating their antics.  The novice shaman would acquire his animal spirits on completion of his initiation.  These he would send out on errands or to do battle on his behalf, however if they failed or died, then so too did the shaman. The shaman would keep and use the same animal spirits until his death, upon which time they would disappear or be passed on to aid his apprentice.

Given the animal kingdoms intimate relationship with nature, its not surprising that witches as they evolved should adopt certain animals as their own link to nature, spirits and deities.  Wise men and women commonly used animals, while wizards, magicians and village healers used them to diagnose illnesses, sources of bewitchment, divination and to find lost property or treasure.

It was not until the Middle Ages and the rise of Christianity that the witches pets and animals became thought of as agents of evil.  As the persecution of witches began, so the church started teaching the concept that the Witches’ familiar was an associate of the Christian devil.  They became demons and evil spirits in animal form, sent out by the witch to do their nasty bidding.  They also believed witches possessed the power to transform themselves into animals, in which guise they committed any number of diabolical deeds.  Later they were believed to use animal products in spells, making potions and concoctions to aid transformation, gain power over nature, or even to harm and kill.

The most common animals associated with witchcraft were the:  Frog, Owl, Serpent, Pig, Raven, Stag, Goat, Wolf, Dog, Horse, Bat, Mouse and of course the Cat, though virtually any animal, reptile or insect would be suspect.  Obsession with the witches familiar was most prevalent in England and Scotland and was mentioned in numerous trial records of the period, particularly those related to “Matthew Hopkins”, the infamous Witch Finder General (see Matthew Hopkins).

According to the ancient Witchcraft Act of 1604, it was a felony to:  “consult, covenant with, entertain, employ, feed or reward any evil or wicked spirit to or for any intent or purpose”, an act that Hopkins used with zeal when extracting confessions.  He also used the “Malleus Malificarum” the so-called Inquisitor’s Handbook.  Though it offers no instruction concerning familiars in the interrogation and trial of witches, it does acknowledge that an animal familiar “always works with the witch in everything”.  As such it advises the inquisitor never to leave a witch prisoner alone, “or the devil will cause him or her to kill themselves, accomplished through a familiar”.  This in mind Hopkins would tie the witch up in a cell and leave them alone, while watching secretly for their arrival.  If so much of as a fly or beetle approached them, it was deemed proof enough that they were indeed witches.

Today in contemporary witchcraft any thoughts of animals as “demonic spirits of evil” has been left by the way side, though many modern witches still use animals when working with magick utilising their primordial instincts and psychic abilities to attune with nature and deities.  Animals are sensitive to psychic power and vibrations, and are welcomed into the magick circle when power is being raised or spells are being cast.  They are also used to aid scrying, divination and spirit contact.  When working with magick animals act as a guard in psychic defence for they react visibly to negative forces and harmful energy.

Perhaps the most famous of contemporary witches to keep a familiar was Sybil Leek and her pet jackdaw named “Mr. Hotfoot Jackson”.  Sybil was a hereditary witch with a long lineage going back to the witches of southern Ireland in 1134, but her choice of a pet jackdaw bears an uncanny relationship to one particular ancestor called Molly Leigh:

Molly Leigh

As the story goes, Molly was born in 1685 and lived in a cottage on the edge of the moors at Burslem near Stoke-on-Trent.  Molly was a solitary character who never married; she talked to the animals and kept a pet Jackdaw.  She made her living selling milk from a herd of cows to travellers and passers-by.  An eccentric person, the Jackdaw was often seen perched on her shoulder as she delivered milk to the dairy in Burslem.

Molly was known for her quick temper and the people of Burslem were suspicious and frightened of her.  This was not uncommon in those times, for throughout the country ‘women’ and particularly elderly women who lived on their own in remote places, were labelled as witches.

In Molly’s case it was the local vicar the Rev. Spencer who made witchcraft accusations against her.  He claimed that Molly sent her Jackdaw to sit on the sign of the Turk’s Head pub, a pub that the vicar frequently visited, and when it did the beer turned sour.  She was also blamed for other ailments suffered by numerous townsfolk.

Molly died in 1746 and was buried in the Burslem churchyard, but then many claimed that her ghost haunted the town.  A short time after her burial, the Rev. Spencer along with clerics from Stoke, Wolstanton and Newcastle went to open her cottage and retrieve her pet Jackdaw.  When they arrived they were shocked to see Molly (or an apparition of her), sitting in a favourite armchair knitting with her pet Jackdaw perched on her shoulders (just as she had often been seen in real life).  Frightened, the vicar and others returned to the graveyard and reopened her grave.  They drove a stake through her heart and threw the living Jackdaw into the coffin.  The vicar then decreed that as she was a witch, she would not rest easy until her body was buried lying North to South.  To this day, Molly's tomb is the only one that lies at right angles to all the other graves in the churchyard.

Many believe that an animal familiar is not acquired through personal choice, more that an animal will choose you as its guardian and companion.  One cannot go down to the local pet-shop and choose a familiar simply on its symbolic significances:  “I shall take an Owl for Wisdom, a Dove for Peace and a Spider for Imagination and Creativity”.  Sorry, but that won’t work.  Animals have their own in-built wisdom and intelligence, their own spirit and skills, and a bond needs to be made with them if they are to volunteer to work as your familiar.  Most often the animal itself will let you know when this has been achieved.

Generally there are four different kinds of animal familiar.  The first is our physical everyday live-in pets, most commonly the cat or dog.  As with all our other family members an instinctive bond and psychic link is created over time.  Silent communication of their needs exists and instinctively we know if they are happy or sad, hungry, hurting or in need of attention.  They in turn reciprocate and adapt themselves to our life styles, intuitively they attune to our mood swings and circumstantial changes.

The second type of familiar is an imaginative creature, one you can closely identify with but never hope to own such like a lion, tiger or leopard.  This is an animal whose characteristics you admire, and you may collect and hang pictures of it in your home.  It resided in the astral plane and because of your intense liking for it; you consciously or unconsciously attract its aid.  It’s said that deceased pets with which you had an affinity return in this capacity.

The third type of familiar is magickal, an elemental spirit.  Witches and Magicians often call upon elemental spirits for aid when working with magick.  When making talismans or amulets for specific purposes, they may call upon a particular familiar elemental to inhabit an object to enhance its effect.  It is believed that Paracelsus; a medical academic (1493–1541) instilled such a familiar into a large precious stone on the pommel of his ritual sword.

The fourth familiar is the spirit of a human being, someone who has died.  Many adept magicians will command the appearance of a human spirit but such spirits are hard to control, for instance, a spirit who has been commanded against his or her desires can be troublesome, in which case you need to be sure of your ability to get rid of them and this can be much more difficult than the original calling.  Those spirits willing to act as our astral guides or teachers are commonly called ‘Guardian Angels’.

The most effective familiars tend not to be our domesticated pets, for due to their life expectancy our pets come and go, though the spirit of a deceased pet can still be used.  The use of our domestic animals as familiars is merely a stepping-stone to the raw power and energy of wild animals that are much closer to nature; for instance, a domestic dog is a softened version of its wild counterpart the fox, wolf, coyote and other wild canine creatures.  Similarly a domestic cat can be linked to other wild felines such like lions, tigers and leopards.  Many witches and magicians start with a domesticated animal as a familiar in the hope that one day they will be able to handle and work more effectively with its true power form, the wild animals of nature.

https://www.controverscial.com/Animals%20and%20Witchcraft%20-%20Intro.htm

Picture https://earthdna.wordpress.com

End

[dirtykookiemonster]

Anxiety - Exo University AU!

Pairings: Reader x Lay (featuring Minseok)

Genre: Angst + a bit of Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of Depressions, Anxiety Attacks, Selfharming/Suicide & Bullying

“The brightest people might have the darkest moments”

Word count: 2.1

The used gif is not mine, credits to the rightful owner.

Hands shivering in anticipation.

Flat breathing, a fast beating heart.

Weak legs, a uncomfortable Feeling in the stomach.

An aching head, tears building up in the eyes.

The fear of what’s coming next.

The fear of the fear, the fear of the upcoming anxiete attack.

“Okay Brain , I’ll give you 20 seconds to decide whether to have an attack or not.

20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0.75, 0.5, 0.25, 0.2, 0.1, 0.

You decided not to have an anxiety attack, now your time is over and I don’t have any time left for it. I’ll go on with my life now.”

Breathing in, breathing out. The trembling hands remained, but at least the anxiety faded away.

Your friends often told to go see professional help, but you were afraid of it. You knew what your mother went through and still is going through, as depressions can’t really be cured but alleviated and helped to just live with it.

Your Mom used to work in a really stressful and burdening job carrying out pastoral duties even though she couldn’t even solve her own family problems having a mother herself always blaming her to ruin her parents lives.

You grew seeing how hard it was to get through depression yet not ever being completely cured.

You were afraid of a doctor telling you that you actually had depressions, knowing that you could never go through this. Knowing you’d definitely being suicidal.

Cross that.

You loved to live. And if there was anything you were more afraid of than having depressions then it’d be harming yourself. You couldn’t stand pain. That’s why afterall you never even ones decided on cutting yourself.

Most of your not that close friends and other people would never assume you had those thoughts or these anxieties anyways. You were a literal sunshine. Everyone in your classes would smile at you when seeing you walking across of them. You were always able to make everyone around smile.

You were truly a bright person.

But the brightest people might have the darkest moments.

Only a few of your friends knew about your anxiety, about your family problems.

Actually only Hyemi and Minseok.

Minseok who you knew since your earliest childhood and Hyemi who you met as you entered university and met her in several classes.

They’d always tell you to reach out for help, professional help. As always talking to them wouldn’t help you that much.

You felt bad and guilty actually, as it got worse and worse due to the rising pressure of your grades.

The worse it got, the fewer you complaint to them. You were to afraid to become the burden you assumed your Mom was for her parents.

“At least go to see a counselor”, Minseok once assumed.

You were choking your hot coffee at that, you usually drank in the shop Minseok worked at.

You knew about the reputation this “student counseling” had and how they made their patients feel better.

Minseok rolled his eyes at the frown on your face.

“Come on, not all of them are like you think they are. My friend Lay counsels there too, you know?”

You’d seen Lay several times when Minseok had a dance performance and invited you and Hyemi to see him perform.

Also you shared a few classes and of course you noticed his handsome looks and his nice personality. And by the way you saw him dance you could tell quite well that his counseling was quite popular.

“You know he wouldn’t take advantage of you”, Minseok emphasized sharply.

“That does not mean that the girls going there wouldn’t do that”, you retorted with rolling your eyes.

“He is a nice guy, okay? I could tell him to be extra patient for you”

“You won’t tell him anything if I decided on going there”, you harshly exclaimed closing your eyes to slits.

“Okay, I won’t if you promise me to go there.”

You scoffed annoyed by that ultimatum.

“Fine” You crossed your arms as you saw Minseok breathing in relief.

Lay, or Yixing his true name, was one of those people who only new you as the cheerful and bright person. Minseok did never tell him about your problems, since they were your private issues which you trusted in him to not tell others.

Non the less Yixing had always noticed you for that; being the sunshine you were and even cheer him up before a performance, even though he knew that it was meant for Minseok.

He never had the courage to ask you out because he was actually quite a bit intimidated by your openness to everyone and your courage to approach whoever you wanted and still making it clear who counted to you as a friend. You were friendly to everyone but only let get close those you fully trusted.

And to be honest, he didn’t want to come between you and Minseok. Seeing your habit of skinship, the two of you shared, on the one hand everyone would assume you were dating each other, even though on the other hand everyone knew you weren’t.

It was actually quite confusing for everyone.

Anyways, as Yixing knew you as the bubbly sunshine he would never had assumed to one day actually see you standing there, your face swollen from crying, your makeup smeared on your face and a little wet by rain outside.

It has been a month or more after you promised Minseok to go to the counseling. The attempt of avoiding that situation giving you a little boost of strength, which was completely used up by now.

You actually were on your way to buy some soulfood: chocolate, ice-cream and maybe some instant-ramyeon- you preferred cooking freshly as you assumed it to be healthier, as you noticed you hadn’t any money left for this month. You were standing there at the check-out, ready to lock you in your room for the weekend, stuffing unhealthy junkfood into you and crying over your favorite series’ characters death’s to gain back your strength.

On days like this such little things were enough to crack up your precious shell and left you a crying mess.

But you couldn’t go to your dorm like that- not this time. You felt so much worse and more desperate than ever before.

You thought you might stop crying after a little walk, but since it was raining it only got worse.

All your anxieties overwhelmed you and you weren’t able to rebuild your shell to isolate you from further harm.

You knew you couldn’t go to your dorm like this, you knew you couldn’t talk to Minseok because he assumed you already tried out the counseling and was going out with Hyemi tonight anyways.

You had no choice left but searching for help where you wanted to go the least.

So you found yourself knocking the counselor’s door which was titled with Zhang Yixing.

It took Yixing a moment to fully understand the situation. You were standing there. The sunshine he badly crushed on was standing in front of him with an incredibly broken look on the beautiful face. It broke his heart to see the usually beaming you this distressed.

After a while you couldn’t take this awkward situation anymore.

“Eeh, sorry. Wrong building I guess”, you mumbled and made an attempt to stumble away just to get grabbed by your wrist. You furiously turned around to him and he quickly moved away his hand.

“Sorry too, I guess” He shook his head. “Please come in”

Now you hadn’t left the choice of running away anymore, so you followed him into his office.

It was a decently sized room, wide old windows to the campus, a big leather couch and a wooden desk with a swivel chair on the one and a normal chair on the other side. The carpet floor was probably supposed to be dark red but over the years turned into somewhat reddish-brown.

“Where do you want to sit-“, Yixing attempted to ask as you straightaway headed for the sofa.

Yet again he attempted to sit next to you but due to the glare you shot him he decided to sit on the armchair across you, the other side of a dark wooden coffee table.

You kept quiet and he didn’t dare to talk, afraid to get cut off once again.

You were so different than he expected you to be yet he wanted to know what made you this fragile.

“I’m having anxiety attacks”, you simply started.

“I’m sorry, Y/N” You closed your eyes to slits since you never really introduced yourself to him. “May I ask you since when?”

“It’s your job here I suppose” He was taken aback by your unused rudeness but didn’t judge you. He still volunteered to be a counselor and accomplished a few courses to do so.

You sighed and your shoulders sank from their stiffness into an exhausted posture.

“Since I am fifteen” You were now 20 years old. “When I was fifteen I had my first one and the second just a year after that. From that on I had a few more but since university I get them on a regular basis.”

“Do you know why?”, he simply asked.

“I can guess. My Mom had depressions and… When I was 15 I…” You swallowed. Not liking to think back to that time. That time when you were the weakest. And promised yourself only to get stronger after that. “I experienced bullying. I don’t know if it really counts, it lasted for only one year… My best friend used to attend a different school than me and well… Her new friends kind of bullied me out of her life. I tried to explain it to her but she couldn’t understand. That year was the year my grades started to drop and yeah… Pretty much exactly one year later I had my second anxiety attack, I don’t remember it anymore. That time I diagnosed myself with Winter depressions and I guess it was that kind of depression because the following years I pretty much only had anxieties in winter…”

You paused. At the beginning of the conversation Yixing had placed a cup of water in front of you which you now took thankfully and drank it completely.

“Actually I never would’ve assumed your life to be this… Complicated”, he confessed.

“Because I am happy all the time”, you chuckled bitterly. “Because everyone assumes that just because I smile a lot my life would be easy.”

You both stayed quiet, hanging after each of your own thoughts.

“I don’t put on a show”, you said slowly and for the first time searched for eyecontact. “It’s not like I desperately try to cover up my unhappiness… I mean, everyone has a bad day every now and then, right?”

Yixing nodded in agreement.

“It’s the same for me too. Sometimes I am almost desperate to show others that my life actually isn’t perfect. But as soon as I am surrounded by people- and it doesn’t matter if I know them or not- I just randomly start being happy. I am so desperate sometimes to be unlucky in public but I just can’t.”

“Your lonely”

You suddenly stayed quiet. Actually you were about to go on complaining about that as he interrupted you with the most honest words someone ever said to you.

“Yes. I guess I am…” It’s not like you never thought of that being the reason. You kind of knew it anyways. As you always had people like Hyemi and Minseok who were the closest people in your life but you always kept them at a distance. Too afraid of annoying and bothering them with your dumb problems. You never let someone get this close to you.

At that realization you just started to cry. You cried so much you didn’t care about Yixing standing up and finally sitting down on your side to hug you. You didn’t care about staining his hoodie with your salty tears.

And he was happy- not about your unhappiness but about that you decided to show him that side of you. Of course, he was a counselor and people should come here because of those reasons. But he was happy that you were with him, truly needing help and not a random girl that once saw him dancing and wanted to get him out of his clothes.

Also he was happy because you weren’t as flawless as people would assume. You were human. Still a pretty perfect one to him but that was a whole other story.

A/N: This is my first scenario to post on here. Also I am not an native speaker so I feel pretty awkward about my writings (though I am actually a bit proud of this one xD) It’s kind of based on personal experiences and inspired by @dom-joonie ‘s “The counselor”. I am still pretty new to tumblr and actually to Exo too so I apologize for Lay probably being out of character and I’d really appreciate any kind of feedback ^~^ 

Thank you for reading and I wish you a good day,

~D