#realizing that i lost all of my teen years to trauma and bullshit like that. and that it forced me to be an adult way sooner than i - | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oviids · 3 years

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pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.* - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul. slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/’ minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes* - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

#if you told me i'd be doing this in 2020 three weeks ago i'd have laughed in your face :/#deancas #supernatural #fic recs #spn femslash #destiel #fic #the alie tag #spn posting

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imgoingtocrash · 3 years

Text

my teen angst bullshit has a body count

by @imgoingtocrash for @hailxhydra

Rating: T

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, Jim Morita, Hydra Agents

Summary:

“Correcting people all the time, sucking up attention with the whole goody two-shoes act. I’m saying you’re a teacher’s pet, loser. And one day, everyone’s going to see it for the act that it is, and when they do—”

Peter’s hearing blanks out.

Pet.

It echoes.

Two years ago, Peter Parker escaped Hydra's control and was taken in by the Avengers. Traumatized from the experience but healing, Peter's starting to get a hang of this whole normal teenager thing. However, when Flash brings up a happily forgotten trigger from his past, Tony comes to give comfort and remind Peter that he's worth more to his loved ones than Hydra could have ever dreamed of.

Read on AO3

My fic for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! Hopefully you enjoy it @hailxhydra!!!

Full fic under the cut as requested by the exchange:

“—But I’m asking if it’s a good movie.”

“I’m telling you, it was either picking Selena for the third time or Rio, which is a stupid animated movie about birds.” Ned shakes his head dramatically. “Everybody else will fall asleep, and if everybody falls asleep, then Misses Rodriguez will give us a pop quiz instead of letting us have a movie day.”

“But I like animated movies. We like them. We watched A Bug’s Life like last week!”

“Because you hadn’t seen it before! Your film under-education is criminal, and if I don’t help you fix it, who will?!”

Ned has a point. Being kidnapped and raised by Hydra after the age of six really limits a person’s entertainment consumption, as he’s learned more than ever now that he’s surrounded by other teenagers who grew up with movies and tv shows to watch at their fingertips.

“I mean, Steve does have a list…” Peter points out weakly.

Steve keeps it in his little notebook along with other things he doesn’t understand the references to yet. He tried to encourage Peter to start something like that in the beginning, but Peter’s never really considered himself a list person. He just sort of soaks up the world now, like a curious sponge. Sometimes it means he has to Google things he doesn’t really understand the meaning of, but it also means a lot of movie nights with both the other Avengers and Ned, which is actually sort of a bonus.

Ned stops them in the hall. “Yeah, but are they cool movies or are they movies for old people and war veterans who haven’t been alive for the last 100 years?”

“...You know that I don’t really know the difference.”

Ned gives a sad shake of his head. “You’re lucky you liked Star Wars, bro. Otherwise we’d be in a very different place right now, like, friendship-wise.”

“You still didn’t answer the question.”

Peter got to pick the movie for their classes’ Cinco de Mayo party. Peter’s not sure what either movie has to do with the Mexican Army’s historical defeat of the French, but he only picked Selena because Ned suggested it. Maybe he should be regretting that choice, if the other option was harmless little Spanish birds.

“You know, Parker, I have a question,” comes a very annoyingly musical voice from behind them.

Peter just barely resists to roll his eyes. Every time with this kid. Not that Peter is any less of a kid than Flash Thompson, technically, but he definitely feels more mature.

Ned, also more mature than some of their other classmates, completely ignores Flash.

“You’ll be humming the disco medleys for weeks, I promise.”

“Wait, wait, disco? I thought you said this was supposed to take place in the 80s and 90s?”

“Music endures, dude.”

“Hey, el idiots, I’m talking to you!” Flash interrupts again.

“That’s not even how you—” Peter starts to correct, only to realize he’s stepped directly in it when Ned groans.

Flash laughs obnoxiously to himself. “Just can’t help yourself, can you, Penis?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter grumbles. It doesn’t really matter what he says now. Flash has the attention that he wanted, which means he won’t bug off until the bell rings and until he has the last laugh. And that always happens, because he’s really the only one entertained by all of the poking and prodding at Peter.

Peter breathes in, steeling himself. He’s survived worse. So much worse. Bullies with electric prongs and steel cages and control over every other aspect of his life. This is just high school. Normal kids survive it all the time, even when there are bullies and bad test grades and cliquey subcultures. This is just one privileged asshole who thinks Peter’s an easy target.

In some way, Peter’s actually proud of that. No one has ever seen him as un-intimidating before. Even his Hydra captors knew that if they lost control of him as an asset, he could easily turn on them.

(Part of him always asks why he never did. If he wasn’t evil, if he wasn’t like them, then why didn’t he just fight back? But Sam says that’s just his mind trying to deal with trauma, and Peter is trying really, really hard to get better at ignoring those kinds of intrusive thoughts.)

Speaking of talking to himself, Flash snaps his fingers in Peter’s face to get his attention back.

“You’d think for such a genius, you’d be a lot quicker on the uptake.” Flash shakes his head like he’s disappointed.

“Please just get to the point already,” Ned begs, throwing his head back.

Peter’s hearing blanks out.

Pet.

It echoes.

C’mere, Pet.

Stay down, Pet!

He was property, he was an animal, he was a weapon, their weapon, he was a mutant and he deserved it, needed it, he was the Spider, a mongrel, nothing, he was nothing and no one and Hydra was the only home a no-good runt like the Spider would ever have and he should be grateful—Kneel, Pet, be a good boy and kneel for your masters—but he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t—

Foolish Pet, you wouldn’t survive out there.

You need us, Pet. You’ll always need us.

“Peter?”

He returns to the moment with one heaving breath, only to realize he can’t take in another.

His collar is too tight, they always put it on too tight and if he complains they hit him and if they hit him he bleeds and it gets on his clothes and he won’t get any more until his bath and he hates bath time because they water is cold and stings his skin and the soap is so harsh it burns his nostrils and they’re watching him he knows they’re watching because they never leave him alone because if they did he would try to escape, he would—

“Peter, what’s wrong, are you—?”

He did. He escaped and ran away but now they have him again and he can’t live like this, not when he knows about best friends and pizza and friendly ribbing and how warm he feels when Tony pulls Peter close on the couch and presses a kiss to his head and tells Peter that he’s proud. He can’t be here anymore, he has to go, he has to run.

“Peter, wait!”

Tony is, to say the least, nervous when he gets a call from Midtown Tech’s front office.

He trusts Peter by now. The kid has come a long, long way since he snuck onto the Avengers helicarrier during the chaos of a Hydra raid. Skinny as a rail, scared, brainwashed...abused.

The Spider.

Peter didn’t like being with Hydra since they were the ones that made him enhanced, but he sure as hell didn’t want to be locked in an enclosed space with a bunch of Avengers at the time either.

As was evident by the fight he put up until Steve knocked him out. Steve still feels bad about cold-clocking a kid when Peter jokingly brings it up now, but Tony’s never shamed Steve for the decision. It was that or some kind of drug injection with the way Peter fought back tooth and nail, confused and defensive. Practically feral, from the well-fitting clothing to his lack of speech.

It was all for the better, though, once they got him back to the compound.

Peter was a talkative kid once he let himself be. Funny, too. Almost normal, if you forgot the mutant spider genetics and years of torture from a bunch of descendant assholes that seemed to hate and resent the very thing they created.

That’s why Tony agreed to let Peter start school. Real, normal, human school just like every other teenager in America attended until they finished all twelve years of it.

Because he needed to be normal, sometimes. He needed movie nights, [other things], and most importantly, friends that were his own age rather than a bunch of adult superheroes that often acted like children.

But also because Peter wanted to go, and Tony had a really, really hard time denying anything that the kid wanted when he could so easily provide.

Peter had such a hard time wanting anything, in the beginning. What did Peter want to wear instead of the plain, grey, dirty sweatpants from Hydra? What did Peter want to eat now that he could have an adequate amount of calories for his enhanced, still growing body? What did he want to watch? Listen to?

All of these choices were suddenly available to Peter, but shaking years of being denied any kind of want, any kind of choice took a toll on him that took a lot of work to get through.

Peter had put in the work. Unsurprisingly well. He was smart—tactically from years of being trained for missions, academically from whatever education Hydra must have thrust upon him. Not so much socially, but they were doing better as Peter spent more time around people that actually cared about him and lobbed insults around to tease rather than to actually cause emotional harm.

But was that enough...training, of sorts, to be around a bunch of teenagers? Sure, Peter was technically also a teenager, but they’d found him at 14. Tony still looked at Peter and saw the wide-eyed little kid sitting in the corner of a containment cell, flinching every time Tony moved.

Two years later and a lot of growth physically and emotionally, but was it enough?

Tony was hesitant about it, wish-washing the entire summer with maybes and I’ll think about its until the deadline arrived and Tony had to actually make the call.

Peter had pleaded, citing an extensive, cheesy list of films that made him want the high school experience himself for some reason. He very genuinely enjoyed shopping for school supplies. He passed Midtown’s entrance exam with results that faked years progressing in homeschooling that Tony knew would have been true, if Peter had gotten the chance to grow up like he was supposed to.

So, Tony eventually said yes, knowing that one day this call might come and Tony would have to be prepared for whatever was on the other end of the line.

An “incident” of some kind. Whatever that meant. The secretary was entirely unclear, only insistent that Peter’s family should get down to the premises immediately to handle things.

That was Tony.

Part of Tony couldn’t fathom why Peter chose him out of everyone on the team to latch onto. Another part wasn’t exactly shocked. Trauma recognized trauma, after all, even if the context was entirely different.

Tony knew what it was like to be belittled. To be seen as something you weren’t. To be abused by someone you never really trusted in the first place.

He and Peter talked a lot in that little containment cell. Hours of Tony blabbering like he always did when he was uncomfortable and Peter just sitting and waiting, waiting, waiting for the strikes to start coming.

When he said his first words.

When he told Tony his name—not Spider, but Peter Parker, a little boy from Queens who lost his parents and his whole normal life in the same night, according to FRIDAY’s records.

When he touched Tony’s arm for the first time and got a smile instead of a reprimand.

He waited and Tony was patient and it was a rough road, but...Tony was kind of a parent, now. A parental figure, at least, among others of varying degrees of quality and influence on a scarred teenager.

He was Peter’s family, whether either of them was any good at it in a traditional way or not.

And also, you know. His money was paying Peter’s tuition. His time went into helping Peter study for the entrance exam. His name was technically on Peter’s manufactured birth certificate because he was the one forging it and it wasn’t like anyone else was offering when the subject came up.

And maybe, a little, because he cared about Peter. Loved him. Wanted to be what Peter needed, what he deserved, and what better way to do that than to write his name on a piece of paper that signified the job he sort of kind of wanted?

Tony slams the car door behind himself after pulling into Midtown’s parking lot, putting on his sunglasses for the brief trip into the early afternoon sun. He’s checking security cameras, exits, and also preparing a hefty sum of cash to go into Principal Jim Morita’s bank account as well as a handful of government officials, if that’s what it takes.

Again, not that Tony doesn’t trust Peter, it’s just...when you get this kind of call and your kid is a highly trained former assassin, you prepare exit strategies on multiple fronts.

It’s been two months and Peter has only made one friend at this place. The kids can’t all be angels like Peter proclaims Ned Leeds to be. If one of them touched Peter out of nowhere or said the wrong thing, maybe Peter lashed out. Maybe Peter forgot to hold his strength back like he’s been training to do. Maybe something was broken.

Maybe it’s something far worse.

Tony has to be ready for that. He has to be ready for whatever it takes to protect Peter.

At the very least, the police aren’t on site. That’s probably a good sign that they’re willing to leave this as an internal matter for now.

The unhelpful secretary of before leads Tony out of the office by the arm at a quick pace, not explaining the situation at all before they arrive at the scene. Whatever it is. Tony was definitely expecting more blood or yelling or...anything, really.

A small crowd stands outside of a door, marked by a golden plaque to be the janitor’s closet.

Leaning on the door itself with his arms resolutely crossed is a kid about Peter’s age. Short black hair, light brown skin, dressed so similarly to Peter that Tony’s starting to wonder if that’s where Peter’s new obsession with those geeky little t-shirts has come from.

“Mister Leeds—” An older Asian man pleads, dressed in a suit and standing up straight with all of the authority he can seem to muster against the stone wall that is the teen in front of him.

The kid shakes his head in response. So this is Ned, then.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not moving. If he wants to stay in there to calm down, he should be allowed to stay in there.”

“I’m sure his parents—”

“He doesn’t even have—you don’t even know what he’s gone through!”

“And you do?”

“Well...kinda? No. But—but he’s obviously freaking out and everyone crowding around him is only going to make it worse!”

The adult rubs a hand across his forehead, stressing at a fold of wrinkles that settles there from the stress.

“Ned, I recognize you’re just trying to be a good friend, but this is a problem for—”

Tony clears his throat, catching the attention of both parties.

The older man sighs. “Oh, good. Thank you, Theresa, you can go on back to the office. We’ll take it from here.”

The secretary nods, brusquely turning around and heading off, leaving Tony there to be examined by both Ned and what must be the principal.

“Mister Stark, I’m glad you could come down, though I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances. I’m Principal Morita.”

“Obviously you know who I am,” Tony replies, shaking the man’s hand. “What did happen, exactly? Theresa was sparse on the details.”

“I told you, it’s Flash’s fault! He was being a dick and—” Ned shouts.

“Mister Leeds.” The principal interrupts, stern. “Another student apparently said something...unkind to Peter. He didn’t take it well and locked himself in the closet. I haven’t even been able to assess the situation properly yet. Normally I would start with asking Peter’s side of the story, but...”

He looks to the closet, where Ned still stands, defensive.

“The bouncer is a real stickler, got it,” Tony jokes, aiming a small smile at Ned. “Peter does seem to attract the protective type.”

“Oh,” Ned says, suddenly meeting Tony’s eyes and gaping like a fish. He seems to have finally realized exactly who he’s talking to. “Oh, wow. Mister Stark, it’s an honor. I’m a huge fan, like, so huge. Peter tells me to shut up about you at least three times a day. When he showed me a picture of you guys I was like, ‘Oh my god, your dad is Tony Stark!’ and he was like ‘Oh. Yeah, I guess you’d know who he is, huh?’ like he totally didn’t get how awesome it is that you’re Iron Man. And I know you’re only kind of his dad, but still—”

“It’s suddenly become very clear to me why you two are friends,” Tony responds, keeping his smile on.

It’s actually kind of sweet to see that Peter’s found someone to confide in, even if he’s seemingly left out the more traumatic elements. But he also knows that Peter can hear them through the door, and he wants to get to the kid as fast as possible instead of dawdling for time.

If Peter wants to see him, that is.

He does, doesn’t he? Tony has been there for everything, so far. Every breakdown when the choices became too much, when the world outside of Peter’s little cell and all of the things he did that he wishes he could forget attack him at night. He hasn’t gotten old enough to not want Tony around when he’s upset, right?

“Sorry, Mister Stark. Sorry,” Ned apologizes. “I’m just nervous and worried about Peter and—”

“I get it, kid. You’re good.” He gives a reassuring grasp to Ned’s shoulder. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I really need to see Peter now. You can ask him yourself, but I’m usually the exception to any rule about Peter wanting to be alone.”

“Right, yeah. I’ll just—”

Ned turns to open the door, but gives Morita a shifty look, like he doesn’t trust the man not to dive bomb in if given the chance.

“Peter—”

“Let him in,” replies Peter’s strained voice. He’s definitely been crying. Poor kid.

Ned pulls back and nods at Tony, stepping aside to let him through.

“You did a good job protecting him, Leeds. Thank you,” he says to the teen before stepping into the dimly lit closet and shutting the door behind him.

The room smells musty and over-powerful at the same time thanks to the potent combination of cleaners and the mop cart sitting so close together. Out of anywhere Peter could have picked, this probably isn’t the kindest to his sense of smell if it’s making Tony already scrunch his nose.

It’s lit by a single pull-chain light bulb, and in the shadows of it sits Peter, curled into himself and leaning against a rusty metal shelf filled with paper towels, cleaning equipment, and a few bottles of product that have to be expired.

“Hey, Pete.” Tony frowns at the cracked floor tile, but settles himself next to Peter anyway. His back catches some kind of spray bottle sitting on the shelf that digs uncomfortably into his back.

Peter sniffs, not looking up from the cradle of his arms. “Hey.”

Tony heaves a sigh, for the drama. “So, I hear you got your first bully.”

Peter shrugs. “Guess so.”

“That Ted kid is pretty nice. He’s a good friend.”

“Yeah. And his name is Ned.”

Tony stops beating around the bush. “What happened, Peter?”

“It was fine. It was good, you know? I got an A+ on my Spanish test, and Misses Rodriguez offered to let me choose the movie we were gonna watch for the Cinco de Mayo party as a reward. I didn’t even know any of the movies, but Ned said Selena was good because Jennifer Lopez is hot, so that’s what I picked. It was a good day, Tony!”

“...But?”

“But then Flash—”

“I meant to ask, is that his actual name? Like, legally?”

“No.”

“Oh thank god.”

“Flash said…he said I was a…” Peter’s hesitant to let it out.

“Pete, a lot of kids at this age are testing boundaries. They’re going to say a lot of stupid, insensitive, offensive—”

“He said I was a teacher’s pet.”

There’s a long minute of silence. Tony blinks curiously a few times. He doesn’t want to belittle what Peter’s feeling, but he also doesn’t understand why it’s caused him so much stress.

“I know, I know it’s—but they used to—” Peter swallows hard, probably only delaying another wave of tears. “Sometimes, before, they would call me…”

“Pet.”

Peter nods, starting to shake next to him on the floor, their arms lightly touching at just Tony saying the nickname.

“They liked it. I think it made them feel better about themselves if they acted like I wanted it. Like—like being locked in the cages or collared or—or being muzzled was good for me.”

“You need to learn a lesson, little pet. Be a good pet and eat your dinner. Stop your crying, pet. No more of your barking, pet.” Peter quotes with venom flinging from every syllable. “But I didn’t want that, Mister Stark! I promise! They gave me these powers and I didn’t want to be their pet and they made me—”

“Peter, I know. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault, I know.”

Tony curls Peter into his side, rubbing his back consolingly.

“When Flash called me that I just—I felt the collar around my neck again and I couldn’t breathe though the muzzle and they kept kicking the cage even though it hurt my ears and I could never sleep in there because it was so small and—”

“Peter—” Peter’s hyperventilating. He’s panicking, Tony realizes. Probably just like he did initially. A flashback that triggered him into having a panic attack.

“And I know that’s not what Flash meant but I was back there and I can’t—I can’t stop—”

Peter breaks into sobs, burying his face into Tony’s shirt and clutching on tight.

“Oh, Pete. It’s okay. You’re okay,” Tony soothes.

He presses a kiss to Peter’s hair, unsure when he became this tender. Probably the moment he realized this was the way he wanted someone to treat him in the midst of his worst, most vulnerable moments.

“Sometimes the bad memories come back unexpectedly, it’s alright.”

“But don’t wanna think about it anymore!” Peter cries childishly.

If it wouldn’t break Tony’s ribs, Peter would probably start banging at his chest in frustration.

“What if it gets bad and I don’t talk anymore and I can’t go to school like a normal kid and I lose everything and then you won’t want me anymore because I can’t get over this and stop being a stupid animal who needs its owners to—”

“Peter Parker, no. Absolutely not.”

Tony pushes Peter away so he can hold the boy’s face in his hands. So that he can fucking imbue into this kid how much he is loved and cherished and human.

“You’re not property, and you’re not an animal. What they did to you was wrong, and you know that now. I know that you do.”

Not just because Peter’s been to therapy since integrating with the Avengers, but also because he’s talked to all of him during his recovery from the horrors of his earlier childhood. About how his life felt before and how it feels better now. How he wouldn’t have left in the first place if he really wanted to be a part of Hydra like they raised him to want.

He’s not the child soldier they raised anymore. He’s so much more than they ever allowed him to be in that awful place.

He loosens his grip on Peter’s face only to bring him back again with an arm around his shoulder. Maybe if Peter feels him, touches him, the kid will remember all of the growth he’s made, the family he’s gained.

“Buddy, you are getting better. I know it. I’ve seen it. You know we’re all so proud of you and the progress you’ve made.”

Tony sighs. Part of him wants to sugarcoat it. That Peter has seen the worst of the world and now he’ll just be able to move on from it scott-free. It’s what he deserves, but Tony knows from experience that nothing in life is that sort of kind.

“That doesn’t mean you won’t have setbacks. I have had setbacks. Healing from the bad stuff is really, really hard, but it doesn’t make you anything that they said you were. You’re a wonderful, good kid who deserves everything he’s worked so hard for. And you’re going to get it because you have me and the team and your new best friend behind your back. You’re not alone, you’re not in a cage, you’re—you’re home, Pete. You understand?”

Peter sniffs, a sign that he’s worked himself up again, but his weak nod into Tony’s chest tells him that some of them at least might be happier tears.

“Listen to me, Pete. And I mean really, truly listen.” He looks down at the snot-covered, tear-stained teenager practically in his lap. He does love Peter. He wouldn’t have gone this far for any other kid in the world.

“It doesn’t matter what happens—hitches, mishaps, a dumb teenage mistake. You’re our kid now, Peter. You’re never going back to Hydra. Never. Not with me around.”

He knows it means something to say it out loud rather than leaving it to be assumed. He doesn’t have as much of a problem admitting it as he thought he might.

“I’m never giving you up, or letting you go, or treating you like anything other than a person. Do you understand me? That is something you never, ever have to worry about. Not from me.”

Peter sobs against him. This time it feels a lot more like relief. A release in the safety of Tony’s arms that Peter hasn’t really allowed himself, even after two years of being free of Hydra.

Peter didn’t tell the team everything. He may never even tell Tony everything. But this is one more thing Peter doesn’t have to carry alone, and Tony is happy to help their kid navigate the horrors it's brought back into his improving life.

They sit there for another minute, Peter’s whimpers muffled in Tony’s dress shirt. He’s sure the principal and Peter’s friend are getting antsy. But all the same it gives Peter another chance to calm down, and this time he seems a lot lighter when he picks his head up to look at Tony.

“Feel better?”

Peter gives a sniffle, but accompanies it with a nod and bright, attentive eyes.

“Look, I think school’s a bust for the day. Let’s go home. Whatever you wanna do, just you and me. Nobody else needs to hear about this unless you want to tell them, okay?”

“And if you wanted, I guess…”

Peter tilts his head, expectant.

“We could...nah, it’s probably offensive, right?”

“What?” Peter insists. Tony tried to warn him, but Tony also can’t resist an idea once it pops into his head.

“I just thought, you know, if you wanted—if you thought it would help, we could get you a—“ He almost ruins it, but catches himself. “An animal. Like a dog or something.”

Peter is silent. He bites at his lip, contemplative. Looks in the direction of a mop bucket in the corner.

“Is that bad? You don’t have to, I just thought it might make you associate that word with good things, but if not—“

Peter finally meets his eyes with a tentative grin on his face.

“What kind of dog?”

#irondad #spiderson #au #friendly neighborhood exchange 2021 #marvel #peter parker #tony stark #my writing #hailxhydra

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 11- Fond Memories

Summary: It’s just a memory, but it’s a good one.

Warning: fluff, smut ur welcome

Masterlist

June 21, 2016 - Bucharest, Romania

Wandering down the crowded streets of Bucharest, your eyes casually survey the surrounding area until they land on a little news cart holding the latest universal gossip that may spark a possible interest in the random civilian, among other things.

It’s hot out on this fine summers day, so all you carry on your person is your usual travel boots, black jeans, and a tank top to show off those guns of yours that Bucky loves so much. In your right hand is a plastic grocery bag hung loosely in your fingers, filled with two oranges and a cold lemonade, Bucky’s request. Though it’s slowly losing its chill from the afternoon heat.

As of recently you’ve become the designated grocery store adventurer since it’s the middle of summer and Bucky’s usual attire is to wear pants and a long sleeved shirt with gloves because of well, his arm. And since he doesn’t want to feel too out of place, also considering he’s incredibly cautious about where he shows off his metal appendage. You handle business on the streets, which today happens to be getting some fruit and a cold beverage back home to your man.

Though you’re admittedly a bit distracted by the local newspapers seated comfortably on their propped up stand. Soon you’re at the young teens cart, eyeing up the paper with curious eyes, “Hello miss.” Greets the boy in Romanian as you give a nod in acknowledgment, “That was sure something that happened in Sokovia huh, people still talking about it even now...glad I don’t live there. But uh, I guess the Avengers saved the day, well, most of it I think.”

“No doubt they probably helped cause it.” You add bitterly, eyes scanning over the heroic faces of Ironman and Captain America as they stand with great pose and purpose on the front magazine. Heroes? What a bunch of bullshit and flashy images underlying the darker truth to these people. These so called saviors.

If they truly cared, if real heroes actually gave a shit besides attempting to clean up their own messes, Hydra would be completely eradicated from the face of the earth and trafficking rings wouldn’t exist. But here we are.

“Uh, you wanna buy a paper?” Asks the young boy, smiling a shy yet hopeful grin.

I’d rather get stabbed, you think.

“No thanks, just here to look.” You add bluntly before turning on your heel and walking away, sauntering down the street as more people pass by you on your way to the apartment complex just over the next block. In no time have you reached the building, heading up the long flight of stairs before at long last do you stop at the front door.

Your relationship with Bucky is still relatively new, so you don’t want to startle him by just bursting in, so instead do you knock a couple times to gather is attention. Hopefully he’s not snoozing again. Taking a step back, you can hear shuffling from the other side before he reaches the door. You smile, knowing he can see you through the peep hole, “I got lemonade.” You add, holding up the bag as he unlocks the door, opening it up a crack before cautiously glancing to either side of you.

Realizing the coast is most certainly clear, Bucky opens the door fully to reveal nothing more then some grey sweatpants and a loose sleeveless black t-shirt hung perfectly against his body, amplifying his beefy muscles that not only could crush a man but can most definitely get you feeling all sorts of ways when used appropriately.

“Yes, get in here Y/N.” Urges Bucky with a humored smile and a small wave as you quickly wander in past him before setting your bag on the far counter near the sink.

Taking the decently cool beverage out, you turn around to face Bucky, who’s standing semi-awkwardly out in the open. A small dust of pink covers his stubbled cheeks as you take him all in. It’s not like you haven’t seen him bare ass naked before, it’s just, he feels comfortable enough to let his guard down with you and that's somethings he’s never truly ever felt before. He gets a little shy sometimes, so what?

“They finally had it. So I snatched this beautiful bitch the second my eyes landed on her. Hope it soothes all your troubles away and sends you on a spiritual journey through the meadows of....uh, wherever this place is from.” You mutter, trying to figure out how to pronounce the name of the company as he walks over to you; giving up on that curiosity, you decide to hand Bucky the drink instead, “Yeah, whatever I hope it tastes good.”

He gratefully accepts, “Thanks Y/N, you’re the best. Seriously.” Praises Bucky as he twists the lid off and takes a drink, face appearing to rather enjoy it as he proceeds to down the whole 8oz sugary bittersweet contents right before your vary eyes.

Well, he certainly wasn’t lying.

He finally pulls the bottle from his wet lips, taking a deep breath as you raise a brow at him, “I’m gonna take that as you finding nothing wrong with it whatsoever.” Licking the sweet wetness from his pink lips, Bucky chuckles before shrugging.

“I haven’t had lemonade since the 40’s so even if it was actually kinda bitter, I don’t think I would have noticed.”

“Damn. That long?” You question as he nods, “Fuck those assholes,” You growl, taking a step closer to Bucky so that he can pull you into his arms as you raise your head to greet him, “now they can never keep you from such rare pleasures ever again.”

Bucky reveals a beautiful white toothed smile, thick arms holding you close as he presses his forehead to yours, “And what would you do if they did?”

Running your hands up and down his muscular back, you gently place a sweet kiss against his plush lips, “I’d fucking gut every single one of them until you’re safe with me, drinking all the lemonade you could ask for.” He chuckles lightly before pressing his lips against yours once again, the taste of sugary lemonade reaching your tongue as he lets you explore his mouth a bit, Bucky doing the same with you.

Hands feeling your enticing vessel up as he takes in everything about you that he could possibly get from this positioning with you wrapped up in his arms, you fully enjoy this wonderful moment with your sweet man. Somedays he gets all cold and withdrawn, nightmares seeping into his scarred mind that pull forth dark memories back out into the open.

He’ll wake up next to you in a cold sweat, breathing heavily as he quickly scans the small apartment for any signs of possible danger threatening himself or even your own life. Then for the rest of the day he’ll stay considerably more quiet then usual, agitated with himself and the general world, though he’s never short with you when he gets like this. You hate to see him when he’s like that, frustrated, distant, and in a low pit of despair from everything Hydra put him through.

But he never once has lashed out at you when he’s having a rough day, he’s well aware how Hydra has toyed with your head and pulled the strings time and time again before you broke from their inky black tentacles. He knows you understand how he feels, and he knows how your mental and physical resilience has aided in your self healing from the trauma they’ve given you.

Although for Bucky, he’s still marked from deep within, everything they’ve ever burned into his brain is still there. Just below the surface. All the memories, all the commands, all the deaths, everything they imprinted on him still clings to him like an unrelenting demon.

But the days when he’s more soft and clingy appear to claim Bucky the most, and those days are your absolute favorite. Sure his handsome face still reveals a bit of that usual Bucky darkness that gives his eyes a tinge of roughed beauty, something that admittedly draws you in even further.

He’ll choose to speak with you on his own accord, tease you if he’s in the mood, and hold a part of your body that intrigues him the most for that length of time. He gravitates in your direction when he’s having a good day, seeking out your attention in any way conceivable and making it an absolute necessary goal of his to give you as much loving as he possibly can try in a single hour.

You love days like this, you love feeling wanted and appreciated for your very existence when so many would rather see you dead. You love having those big beautiful blues studying every single curve, muscle, and blemish on your skin like a student to their books. He practically drinks you in, making it his mission to hold you close and speak sweet nothings that will be remembered for a hundred years more.

So when you have to leave for supplies or pay the rent, Bucky feels like a lonely and lost old house cat with nothing to do all day except wait as patiently as he can until you arrive home safe and sound. He obviously doesn’t slip this to you about how he feels when you must vacate the premise and venture out into the unknown for however long it takes.

But you know, if it wasn’t already evident on his face when you greet him after such travels. The way his face lights up in excitement and relief once he finally sees you, the telltale crinkle in the corner of his eyes, and the way that his lips pull into a positive grin that could make you swoon in an instant.

You could absolutely just about die happy, you’ve never been more catered to and loved on in your entire life since you’ve started living with Bucky in Romania, well, since your once fragile relationship took a turn for the best. Resulting in whatever beautiful thing you two have going on now, though neither of you have outwardly labeled your growing relationship.

It’s more so an unspoken thing that’s adherently mutual, the both of you clearly understanding this isn’t some friends with benefits type shit. Oh no, definitely far from that. So what you have with Bucky right now is something so deeply special and bound by so much more then physical love and personal feelings.

You two have lived a past like no other, survived like beasts of war for masters who threw the command and controlled the reigns. Fought together, bled together, and kept imprisoned by Hydra together. Your pasts are blooded and heavy, but it’s only worked to make your relationship stronger. And perhaps that’s the only positive of what those fuckers did to you, without them, you’d never have met the Winter Soldier.

Without them, you’d never have lived this long to find Bucky Barnes, never have been given the opportunity to see him for all that he’s worth. And to you, he’s worth more then all the stars in the sky.

Your lover kisses your lips once more as you smile into the soft embrace, causing him to laugh as you pull away, “What’s so funny?” Wonders Bucky, revealing his own beautiful smile that could light up the darkest room.

Raising your hands to gently touch the sides of his stubbled cheeks, you give him a small peck, “You taste like lemons.” You muse.

“Oh, is that good then?” He asks, brow raised as you give him another quick kiss in reply before he smiles a lovestruck grin back down at you, “I think I’ll take that as a yes.”

You smile brightly before tugging on a lock of his dark shoulder length hair, “You plan on turning into the wolfman soon? It’s touching your shoulders now.”

Bucky side eyes your fingers laced through his admittedly long hair, “I guess......maybe it needs a little cut.” He begrudgingly admits, “But only a little cut, okay. Not a lot.” Worries your sweet man as you let go of his dark mane to pull away from his muscular vessel.

Hands outward and forming the shape of a square as you size him up for a photographic image sent directly into your brain, “Yeah. I can work with this, you got the looks. The face, very nice. Body, oh dear lord is it fine. Mhmm hmm, and that hair? Absolutely glorious, a lot of volume, shiny, good bounce to it....oh yeah I can work with this...”

“Are you done?” Chuckles Bucky as you drop your hands to your thighs.

“What? I was just pretending to be your photographer, was I not convincing enough?”

“Well..”

You take a step forward, gently touching the bottom of his chin before making a cheeky face and turning to wander towards the bathroom, Bucky slowly following your lead in curiosity as you explain, “I’ll have you know Barnes, I once convinced some high end Bulgarian official that I was actually a Russian princess in hiding. He believed it too.” You mutter while rummaging through the drawers under the bathroom sink. Bucky leaning against the doorway as he watches you intently.

“Honestly, it was rather pathetic too. Old fucker was so drunk I could have told him I was a pixie from the realm of toxic waste baskets and he would have believed me.” You add, searching for wherever the fucking scissors went, “Of course his idiot companions were none the wiser and I got the intel I needed out of him. How you ask?” Grabbing the silver coated utensil from out of the drawer, you rise to your full height.

Cutting the air, you throw him a wink as you move to wander past him, “That information is top secret. But let’s just say he never made it back to his friends.” You smirk, setting the scissors on the small center table before snatching the tiny plastic trash can and taking it with you over to the table once again.

Bucky watches as you pull the two chairs to face opposite of one another, placing the trash can in the center of the two wooden seats as you bring your bum down on to the flat chair. “Now sit. This may get messy.”

Bucky snorts, moving to do just that, “I don’t wanna see any blood, Y/N. I know how you are with sharp objects.” Jokes your man with a telling smirk as you simply roll your eyes before pulling your right leg up, leaning it against your left thigh as you begin unlacing your boots. “Whatcha doing there Y/N?”

Tugging on the sides of your boots to loosen them up, you throw him a side glance, “Getting comfortable.”

Bucky nods, “Of course. This is serious business.”

You chuckle, pulling off your boot and throwing it to the side before exchanging your one leg for the other, “Gives you more time to check me out.”

Biting his bottom lip, Bucky leans his metal elbow against the table as he shamelessly watches you do your thing, “Well, no.....I wasn’t doing that, definitely not....but uh, I like your socks. Very interesting choice.” Points Bucky while you toss your other boot to the floor with a small thud. Shaking your head while Bucky makes fun of your current socks that reach above your ankles, a multitude of cartoon rainbow kittens dancing all about with a solid grey background. One tiny worn down hole showing some skin on the back of your heel that would most likely have blistered by now if not for your healing capabilities.

“Huh? Oh, these fuckers?” You snicker, sticking one foot close to his face as he leans back to avoid your teasing, “Fought them off a homeless guy in the park.”

Bucky makes a humored expression ranging between slight disgust and great amusement at your theatrical antics, reaching his flesh hand out to catch your ankle before you can smack him with your extremity. “I’m sure you kicked his ass.”

Setting your foot down, you nod, “Oh I did, you should have seen it, I’m sure you could have learned a thing or two.”

“Okay.” Mutters Bucky sarcastically whilst rolling his eyes, “At least I’m not the one in the care-bear socks.”

You raise a brow at him, legitimately impressed by this reference, “I’m surprised you even know what that is.” You tease before sticking your one foot out and pointing both hands in its general direction, “These. Are cat socks for your information....but no one ever said pretty people were smart so I won’t hold it against you.”

“Ouch.” Laughs Bucky, “Take a look in the mirror hot stuff.”

Smacking his metal arm, you pick up the scissors, “Okay smartass now I’m going to give you a weird haircut for that one.”

“I said you were hot.” Protests Bucky with a laugh as you slice the scissors in the air menacingly, “Forgive me.”

“You implied I was lacking in smarts so now you’re getting a shitty haircut you dumbfuck, come here you coward!” Bucky leans backwards towards the table as you press your freehand on his chest, your other hand held upwards by Bucky’s metal fist as you practically lean your whole body against his. Scissors snapping in the air as he attempts to restrain you.

“Y/N! I’m sorry please don’t cut my hair weird I’ll never leave the apartment again.” He pleads through amused giggles as you playfully let him keep you from doing any sort of damage to his beautiful dark locks.

“You don’t leave the apartment to begin with!”

“That’s true but still!”

“Let me go and I will be nice about it.” You reason, “I promise.” Bucky gives you a half nervous glance before letting go of your wrist, smiling down at him, you slide off his body before seating yourself back down again. “See, not so hard. Now take your shirt off and turn around.”

Bucky’s brows raise instantly while he breaks out into a suggestive grin, “Y/N, that’s kinky.”

Rolling your eyes, you bite your bottom lip to keep from giving him the satisfaction of a genuine smile, “Do it or I’ll hurt you, and not how you like it.” Bucky snorts as you break out into a smile, “Come on muscles I wanna see some skin.”

“Is this really necessary?” Wonders Bucky as he grasps the bottom of his shirt.

“Yes.” You reply, watching as he removes his tank top with ease before setting it atop the cold surface of the table, “It’s so you don’t get hair all over your shirt Barnes, and don’t say it’s not a big deal cause I know you’ll get itchy.”

“Whatever. Just don’t cut me.” Grumbles Bucky as he shifts around in his chair so that you have a clear view of the back of his head and all that glorious hair just screaming to be snipped to perfection. “Seriously be careful.”

Scooting your chair closer so that your legs are parted for a better angle, you semi-roughly tug down on his dark locks causing the super soldier to grunt in pain, “Y/N!” Grumbles Bucky through clenched teeth, “What the hell?” He whines as you chuckle mischievously from behind him.

“Oh shut it you big baby, I know what I’m doing.” Bucky’s mouth opens to protest, but before he’s able to throw something witty at you to counter your sass, you’ve made a loud snip snip sound with the scissors.

“Careful.” Worries Bucky as you hold a chunk of his hair before letting the utensil slice right through the brown follicles like a knife through some soft chocolate cake. Soon more and more tuffs of discarded hair fall into the wastebasket as you work around the back of his head. He doesn’t say a word the whole time as you skillfully cut your way to a half-descent haircut.

After a good five minutes, you lean back to examine your work, “Okay, looking good.”

“Can I see.”

“No.” You deadpan with a small chuckle before pressing the handle of the scissors to his bare back, “Turn around wolfman I need to do the front.”

Sighing, Bucky shifts, turning around to finally face you. Both your legs staggered side by side now as he looks into your eyes like a beaten down puppy, “Oh don’t look at me like that Barnes. Your torture session is almost over.” You add before kissing your fingers and pressing them against his lips for a brief second of silent affection.

Bucky cracks a handsome grin while your left hand messes up his long bangs, “Must you do that too.” Complains your grumbly lover in annoyance as you slice some areas near his face. “Yep. I’m not cutting all of it, I’m just giving your eyes some trim to see. Bucky you’ve been putting your hair up in buns for a week now.”

“Okay fine.”

“I mean, I like it. But you need a cut, I miss seeing your pretty face.” Bucky closes his eyes as you make quick work of his hair, deciding it best to just keep his thoughts to himself and let you do your masterful work, hopefully resulting in a decent job well done.

Soon he hears one last snip before you dramatically gasp causing his eyes to shoot open, “What did you do!?” Worries Bucky as you start smiling like an idiot.

“Oh my...ha, you look so good!” You affirm with an excited squeak of joy, setting the scissors down on the table before reaching your hands out to dive your fingers through his soft mane like an excited child petting a furry cat for the first time.

Bucky’s hands wrap around your forearms as he smiles, “Okay, okay, Y/N...” Starts Bucky as you take your hands and gently push his hair back to see his handsome face.

“Why, hello there Mr. Barnes.” You slyly jest as he studies your smirking face, “Don’t you just look absolutely dashing.”

“Am I free to look now?” Implores your lover with a shy smile as he rests his hands to either one of your thighs, squeezing lightly while you nod. “Go for it.”

He lets go, getting up from the chair to saunter on into the bathroom to observe your skilled work as a terribly underpaid hairdresser. In the meantime, you’ve cleaned off the few stray hairs coating the table and dumped them in the small trash can. Setting the chairs back into their normal positioning as you place the trash back in it’s usual spot by the window.

A mischievous grin coating your features as you stand causally by the fridge, awaiting Bucky who soon walks out of the bathroom. Smile on his beautiful features before his face falls into a confused yet oddly amused expression. “Y/N what are you doing? You look like Hitler.”

“What? No I don’t!” You protest, removing Bucky’s discarded lock of hair from your upper lip and tossing it in the trash, “Well you look.....uh, you look like uh.....I don’t know. You look really hot, I’m kind of distracted not gonna lie.”

Bucky smiles, cheeks dusting a light pink color as he walks closer to you. Noticeably still lacking an actual shirt which is doing wonders to your swirling thoughts that are turning a bit dirty, and those grey sweatpants? Hanging dangerously low on his beautiful body, you can see his famous V line in your peripheral vision as you strain to keep your eyes locked with his.

Oh he is challenging you big time.

Bucky, too observant for his own good, takes the hint that you’re starting to get a little hot and bothered with him looking like that all shirtless in the room and whatnot. Fresh haircut, low pants, and nothing better to do on this fine summer evening.

He raises an intrigued brow, “I know that look.” Muses Bucky with a knowing devilish grin as you shake your head at him, eyes darting to the newspaper covered window. You hate getting caught.

“Nope. What would make you think I’m thinking of...of, whatever you’re thinking. Alright listen, my mind is all pure and good up in here...so I, I have no idea whatever the fuck you’re talking about.” Bucky chuckles, chest rising in little spurts as he humors you, taking a couple more steps closer as you bite your lip in anticipation. Shit, he’s got you right where he wants you.

Ever so gently does five metal fingers reach up to caress the side of your cheek, trailing sweet icy lines down to your chin as his bare chest presses sweetly against your clothed breasts. Flesh hand holding your lower back, pressing you into him, “Y/N.” Whispers Bucky, sounding more like a genuine question as he tilts his head to the side, “What’r you thinking of?”

Pursing your lips together to keep from revealing a full grin to give him that proud satisfaction of turning you on without much effort, you raise a brow, free hand reaching downwards to gently palm him through his sweats that are indeed beginning to tent.

“Hmm. Guess I got you too, and all I did was stand here.” You proudly conclude, slipping a hand into his pants as you trail your fingers up and down his hardening length, causing Bucky to groan in arousal at your playful teasing. “Fuck me I could listen to that voice for a thousand years and never get tired of hearing you moan Buck.”

Bucky grabs your hand currently exploring his neither regions, pulling it out as he takes both your hands with his, face leaning in real close to yours, “I was not moaning.” He confirms with a sly grin, “This...is a moan.” And a second later he’s pressing his flesh digits into your clothed heat, rubbing your growing arousal with the pads of his skilled fingers as your face shifts with pleasure.

“oh.” Softly escapes from your parted lips, the sound coming out as more of a breathy gasp of air then anything really comprehensible.

Soon a large grin has found its way onto your flushed features, “You bastard.” Bucky chuckles at your less then heated curse given freely to him before removing his fingers from their pleasurable assault on your sensitive area that’s calling for some real attention, you kiss him again before muttering, “Come on Barnes....”

His lips dance in time with yours as he keeps you from speaking anything otherwise witty back at him, flesh and metal hand trailing up your body until they find the lower rim of your tank top. He pulls the material upwards, breaking the kiss for but a swift moment to let the fabric completely slide right off of your body and onto the floor below.

Lips on yours in an instant as his nimble fingers skillfully unclasp your bra, you’d have praised him for the semi-troublesome work if not for the fact that he’s now using those talented hands of his to knead your naked breasts like the most valuable and sweetest dough in all the land. Touching them with the tenderness of a skilled lover who knows just how to get his lady feeling all sorts of good.

Trailing your digits up and down his bare back, you shift your face to the side so he can keep stealing away more kisses while you try and form a sentence, “Buck...mhmm....mmmm.....Bucky, I need you, mhmm, I need you in me...right, right now.” You mutter in between moans while Bucky’s hardness rubs through his sweatpants and onto your thighs.

His hands trail up to gather the sides of your face in his palms, lips finally parting from yours as his beautiful blues gaze lovingly into your blissful expression, “I think that’s a fantastic idea Y/N. Now if you could lay on this table so I can take your pants off that’d be great.” Softly adds Bucky as you quickly steal a kiss in reply before scooting yourself upon the wooden table.

Leaning your body back as he quickly removes the clothing from your lower half, underwear sliding off next to leave you in nothing but your wit and will, and naked everything. His lust filled eyes trail hungrily down from your protruding breasts to your soaked neither regions hot and ready for his willing member.

“Enough drooling over me Barnes, I wanna see what you’ve got.” He chuckles at getting so easily caught; listening to your inquisition, he swiftly removes those annoying grey sweatpants before slipping off the tight boxers with ease.

Your eyes widen in excitement at the hardened length dripping in precum, his king jewels swollen and ready to send you into a world of wonders soon enough.

Bucky, noticing how your eyes swirl with hunger, takes a step forward, placing his hand on your knee, “This angles kinda weird so...can you turn around?” Asks the super soldier apprehensively, you two have never done it this way before. It’s pretty tame all things considered, but it’s something you’re more than willing to try.

You nod with a mischievous grin, “That’s a little kinky.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, snorting with laughter nonetheless, “Why are you..never mind.” Muses your lover while you swiftly scoot your naked bum off of the table before kissing his cheek and turning around. Laying your stomach against the warmed surface of the wood as you bend over for Bucky to begin his godly work.

Soon his hands are feeling up your beautiful bum before wandering to your sides, “This good? Are you comfortable like this, just tell me if we need the bed instead and I can..”

“Bucky just fuck me.” You quickly interrupt, pushing your ass against his member that’s quite literally poking provocatively at your naked cheeks. “Yeah, okay, right on that.” Replies your man as he holds your left hip in place, flesh hand steadying his cock as he approaches your slick folds.

You can’t see him from this angle, relying on sounds and feel alone; you’re soon pleasantly relieved of the lack of contact when his manhood finally touches the surface of your two mounds before Bucky pushes himself into you.

Spreading you wide open and bare unto him as his length slides completely into your dripping core that’s heated and buzzing with your arousal. He feels good, really good. The slight discomfort gone in an instant as you quickly adjust perfectly in tune with his fullness and girth that stretches your walls so beautifully.

Bucky lets out a pleasant sigh before gently squeezing your hips, “Y/N are you good?” Wonders your sweet man, balls deep inside you but still making it important that you’re feeling as fantastic as him. How considerate.

With one hand gripping the far edge of the table and the other one thrown back to smack affectionately against his hip, you nod while face is pressed against the flat wood, “So good Buck....so good.” You mutter happily.

Taking this as a positive sign, Bucky smiles joyously before pulling a good ways out of you and thrusting himself back in again. Replicating this wondrous action for a good thirty more seconds as he draws your vessel into a new plane of pleasure with each fantastical stroke.

You’re left with soft moans reaching Bucky’s ears while the poor table attempts to keep in its place as Bucky thrusts full force into you over and over again, the legs of wood scraping against the flooring with each pump into your core. Grunting with effort not gone unnoticed by you in the slightest.

Nothing in the small apartment is heard except for the familiar skin on skin contact associated with this or any type of lovemaking, though right now, this angle, and those beautiful groans dripping off of his tongue sets this scene as more of a good fucking between the two of you if you’re being completely honest here.

Bucky’s cock pulses and twitches in excitement as he pulls in and out of you, hands tightly gripping the sides of your hips enough to bruise when all is said and done, luckily for you, quick healing is one of your attributes. Paying no mind the dull ache of his fingers against your flesh, you grip the edge of the table as the titular coil of growing pleasure begins its usual act upon your womanhood.

Bucky’s relentless, pushing himself into you just right with that delicious cock of his, sliding in and out of your slick walls as he works his magic. “oh God Buck...” You moan in absolute bliss, brows raising upwards at the growing sensation building up into your persistent climax.

He smiles to himself, proud of his fruitful efforts to turn you into a moaning mess underneath him, soon he’s picking up the pace with vigor and palpable stamina that you’re all to willing to match. “Buck....oh fu...fuck, I’m so-I’m so close....mhmm..” He slams into you harder now, causing the table to slide across the floor as he continues his pleasurable assault on your core that’s bringing you quickly to the edge of paradise.

“Ah shit.” Mumbles Bucky, realizing this current positioning is messing up his groove since this damn table keeps annoyingly moving in time with his thrusts. A second later his metal arm his lifting your stomach upwards, body to much of a mess to protest, you’re soon pleasantly surprised when your naked back falls flush against his sweaty toned torso as he holds you close.

His metallic hand slides up to hold you in between your breasts as his flesh hand trails down your body until it finds your sensitive bud, Bucky’s skilled fingers rub deliciously against the swollen flesh as he thrusts up into you vigorously. You suppress a whiny moan as your one hand grips tightly onto his forearm holding you to his body. While your other hand reaches up to take a fistful of hair as his head drapes over the side of your shoulder, plush lips planting wet kisses all along your heated skin.

“Mhmm you taste so good.” Praises Bucky as he licks your naked flesh before gently biting down playfully, leaving more love marks as he continues to play with your clit as the coil inside you threatens to unwind.

“Buck, I-I can’t...I’m gonna...” Bucky listens as you begin mumbling incoherent Russian when your orgasm finally hits you full force now, your warm walls tightening around his cock as you emit a plethora of loud moans. Tugging on his hair as he smiles against your skin for the work he’s done.

Your fingers quickly slip from his thick dark locks as you fight to keep your legs from giving out at the intense rush of pleasure flowing through your vessel as Bucky’s fingers spell circles on your sensitive bud. You’re soon getting overstimulated when suddenly he pulls his hand to wrap around your stomach as he finally cums inside you.

The beautiful sounds of Bucky’s low groans and moans filling your ears as he spills himself up into you, cock twitching as he releases it all. The feeling of his cum rushing into your hot center never fails to turn you weak, especially when his body shakes with pleasure as he subconsciously holds you closer while riding out his orgasm.

He thrusts into you a couple more times just to feel it through as he unknowingly sparks more electricity into your already fucked out core that’s now dripping with not only your natural arousal but his hot liquid. Bucky’s head falls into the crook of your neck as he stops pumping into you, plush lips kissing your heated skin as he just embraces the moment of standing butt-ass naked in the kitchen balls deep in you, his loving and beautifully fuckable girlfriend.

He stands like this for about forty whole seconds until you reach a hand up to tug playfully on his hair, “I think we need a shower now.”

Bucky’s lips smile against your skin as he picks his head up, kissing your neck while he pulls himself out of you. His cum slowly trailing down your inner thighs as he turns you around to face him, “I think you’re right. Let’s go before that gets on the floor.” Chuckles Bucky as he takes your hand and walks you into the bathroom.

You stand by the sink as he turns on the shower, fumbling with the settings while you snatch a tissue and begin cleaning yourself up a bit until he turns around, “Wait Y/N, let me do that.” States Bucky as he takes the tissue out of your hand, kneeling down to get a better angle, “It’s kinda my fault anyways and you’ve done enough...”

“I could handle it Buck, but I mean yeah, go for it.” You muse as he whips off the milky liquid trailing lines down your inner thighs, “I don’t doubt you know how to clean a crime scene.”

“This isn’t a crime scene.” Asserts Bucky as he whips away the last of it while you chuckle at his confused facial expression.

He stands as you saunter past him, taking a step into the shower before looking over your shoulder, “Well, guess you’re just gonna have to murder this pussy again and we’ll find out how well your clean up really is.” You tease with a knowing wink before disappearing into the plastic curtains.

Bucky’s brows raise in surprised excitement as he quickly follows you in, soon his hands are feeling you up in all sorts of places. Drawing soft moans of the sweetest sounds into the sexually charged atmosphere, no doubt riling you up for round two. God you love him so fucking much.

Waking with a start, you’re surprised to find your heartbeat racing a mile a minute. Then the wonderful memories of last nights dream hits you like a truck, that wasn’t just a dream, that was a real memory with Bucky. One of the many fantastic ones between the two of you before Zemo happened, before Tony tried to kill him, before Wakanda, and before Thanos ruined it all with a simple snap of his goddamn fingers.

Just a fucking dream. Another good memory. That’s it.

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94 @iamasimpingh0e @mjaudrey @thescarlettvvitch

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #marvel #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #bucky fic #bucky smut #james buchanan barnes

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fredheads · 3 years

Note

I would like to hear your thoughts about parentdale and the new killers album

thank god i have many!!!!

all the songs about opioid addiction.... enough said on that point

wow i rly thought i could answer this without a read more but i have LOTS TO SAY!!!!!!! everything else under the cut:

quiet town... how it's about the dark underbelly of this small town and how people willfully look away from tragedy and how tragedy manifests itself in that kind of community and how it does or doesnt fit the narrative already scripted for this place... "things like that aint supposed to happen in this quiet town, families are tight, good people still dont deadbolt their doors at night" like shut up!! parentdale... this one to me is about the generational trauma handed down from their own parents and how it repeats itself... and how the narrative of "this is a good town nothing bad can happen here" existed for artie and bunny and prudence and everyone too and some of them (fp) know that was always bullshit but others (fred) were fed the narrative that the good old days were better and bought into that to an extent until they couldnt anymore... its about all the bad shit that happened to them when they were kids and how it was swept under the rug. oscars death comes to mind too...

terrible thing.... would it be unkind of me to call it fps song... i mean really its all of them when they were teens locked away in their bedrooms fucked up and the terrible things they were on the verge of were many (the abortion alice didnt get comes to mind but there were much worse things too) and also the way the first lyric ("the parking lot is rammed with shotgun pickup trucks/ at the jones rubber plant where all the guys end up/beer-drinking boy scouts living life like they ain't stuck") HITS!!! for fredsythe. and its a masterpiece of 'this town is a machine and spits you out into this hopeless mold where you just drink with the boys after working all day' and how thats fps story but also how its subtly about masculinity and the failure to fit that mold is also a failure to live up to a masculine ideal... much to think about.

cody is almost my favorite track off the album I love it so much. there's no character I think of specifically for it but the way Brandon flowers said it was an amalgamation of guys older brothers he knew is making me go batshit feral. "Bottle rockets on an August night/Raid the coolers in the trucks/If we're lucky, we'll get loud and we'll drink/Whiskey from a plastic jug" is excellent parentdale small town tomfoolery imagery too...

when sleepwalker said "everyone is afraid of something even the strongest man alive" that was for hiram lodge 🥺i cant say more its just a feeling

runaway horses can be any of their relationships that almost worked out but did not

in the car outside is another of my favourites FRICCKK the first 2 verses give me halice (especially "She's got this thing where she puts up the walls so high/It doesn't matter how much you love/It doesn't matter how hard you try") and then the 3rd is fremione ("I dropped a line to a flickering high school flame/We laughed about all the ways that our lives had changed/She’s up the road, about thirty-five miles north/Got two little boys in school, just had a real bad divorce/And in a moment of weakness/I told her if she ever needed a helping hand/I would lend, swear to God") wow glory days who... and then "it's like the part of me that's screaming not to jump gets lost in the sound of the train its a lot" ... footloose screaming at trains hours

in another life.... is so deeply parentdale it hurts!! its for all of them realizing they turned out these small town cliches because they didn't have a choice and looking back on all their missed opportunities... ("I passed a couple of kids holding hands in the street tonight/They reminded me of us in another life" could literally be any of them..) ("When that jukebox in the corner/Stops playing country songs of stories that sound like mine" SCREAMS SHUT UP!!! its about class too....) and then the killer... "I spent my best years laying rubber on a factory line I wonder what I would have been in another life" that's FOR FRED ANDREWS BABY! and to an extent artie... like how his father made all these sacrifices for him and might have been anything in another life but fred carries this guilt around.... it runs so deep...

desperate things gives me such bruce springsteen state trooper ballad type vibes but I skip it every time anyway lmfaoooo.... that said...... sierra and tom??? ok....

pressure machine is for all of them!! the way it's about having your hope slowly crushed, ("hope will set your eyes agleam" is them when they were young teens so hopeful.... fp thinking he could be on the football team and pretend to be northside, Penelope thinking she was being adopted by a loving family, alice thinking she could overcome her roots, fred thinking he could play pro ball, etc) growing up in this small town where everyone expects something different of you and you lean into some expectations, you fight against others, but either way your surroundings and upbringing and that pressure forms who you are and then you've lost your innocence and your life is just slipping away faster and faster ... i think this is the best song on the album by far I adore her

and then the getting by ("I know some who've never seen the ocean" ) and these small town people, how there's dignity in this simple living that their parents had and all they can do is get up every day and "hold on till the getting's good" and that's what they've always done... tis parentdale

#this was... an essay #parentdale #i used to listen to battle born literally every day before school and now I listen to pressure machine... intellectualism

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wilwheaton · 4 years

Text

The Purge.

Earlier this year, I made some significant and substantial changes to my life, continuing the process of growth and reflection that I started when I quit drinking almost four years ago. (Sidebar: it's remarkable how much clarity I got, and shocking how much pain I was self medicating for so much of my life. I'm so grateful for the love and support of my friends, my wife, and my kids, who supported me when it was clear that I needed to get alcohol out of my life. Be honest with yourself: if you're self medicating emotional pain and/or childhood trauma like I was, give some serious consideration to working on the root issues you're using booze to avoid. I'm so much happier and healthier since I quit, and that's almost entirely because I was able to confront, head on, why I was so sad and hurting so much of the time. I'm not the boss of you, but if you need a gentle nudge to ask for help, here it is: nudge.)

Anyway.

As I was cleaning up my emotional baggage, working on strategies to protect myself from my abusers, and practicing mindfulness daily, I realized that I had a ton of STUFF just sitting around my house, cluttering up my physical living space the way my emotional trauma and pain was cluttering up my emotional space. So I made a call, and hired a professional organizer to come to my house, go through all my bullshit with me, and help me get rid of all the things I didn't need any more.

This process was, in many ways, a metaphor.

We spent several days going through my closets, my game room, my storage spaces in my attic and shed, and eventually ended up with FIVE TRUCKLOADS of stuff I didn't need. Most of it was clothes and books and things that we donated to shelters, which was really easy to unload. I acquire T-shirts so much, I regularly go through my wardrobe and unload half of what I have, so it's easy to get rid of stuff without any emotional attachments.

But there were some things that were more difficult to get rid of, things that represented opportunities I once had but didn't pursue, things that represented ideas that I was really into for a minute, but didn't see through to completion, things that seemed like a good idea at the time but didn't really fit into my life, etc.

I clearly recall giving away a TON of electronic project kits to my friend's son, because he's 11, he loves building things, and he'll actually USE the stuff I bought to amuse myself while I tried to make a meaningful connection to my own 11 year-old self, who loved those things back then too. When I looked at all of these things, I had to accept and admit that 47 year-old me isn't going to make that connection through building a small robot, or writing a little bit of code to make a camera take pictures. I can still connect to that version of myself, but I do it now through therapy, through my own writing, my own meditation. For the longest time, I didn't want to let these things go, because I felt like I was giving up on finding that connection I was seeking, but what I didn't realize (and didn't know until I made the decision to let it go) was that I didn't need STUFF to recover something I'd lost and wanted to revisit.

I think that, by holding on to these kits and similar things, I was trying to give myself the opportunity to explore science and engineering and robotics in a way that young me was never given. Just about everything I wanted to do, that I was interested in when I was 11, was pushed aside, minimized, and sort of taken away from me by my parents. My dad made fun of everything I liked, and my mom made me feel like the only thing I should care about was the pursuit of fame and celebrity. Without parental support and encouragement, I never got the chance to find out if any of these other things would be interesting enough to me to think about pursuing them in higher education. Yes, for some reason, even when I was a really small kid, I was already thinking about where and when I would go to college. I never took even a single class, because I was so afraid of so many things when I was college age, but that's its own story, for another time.

As we went through just piles and piles of bullshit, it got easier and easier to just mark stuff for donation. That drone I used to fly for fun, that I kinda sorta told myself would eventually be used to film something I wrote? Get rid of it, that's never gonna happen. The guitar I kinda played a little bit when I was a teenager, but never really learned how to play properly? Give it to someone who is going to love it and play it so much, it lets them express their creativity in ways I was never able to. All those books I bought to make me a better poker player? Gone. All the books I bought to learn how to program in Python, Perl, Java, and even that old, used, BASIC book I picked up because I thought it would be fun to finally write that game I always dreamed about when I was ten? Give them all to someone who is actually going to *do* that, instead of just think about it.

It was, at first, really hard to get rid of this stuff, because I felt like I was admitting to myself that, even though I *could* paint all these minis (like I did when I was a teenager), even though I *could* study all of these books on Python and Arduino hacking, and probably make something kind of cool with that knowledge, I was never going to. I came to realize that having these things was more about holding on to the *possibility* that they represented. It was more about maintaining a connection to some things that once made me really happy. When I was a kid, I LOVED copying Atari BASIC programs out of a magazine and playing the games that resulted, because it was an escape from my father's bullying and my mother's neediness. When I was a teenager, I LOVED the time I spent (badly) painting Space Marines and Chaos Marines, because it gave me an escape from everything that was so hard about being me when I was 14. When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I spent hundreds of hours trying to learn the same five songs on the guitar, never mastering a single one of them. My time would have been much more wisely invested in learning the scales and chords that I declared were more boring than picking my way through the tablature for Goodbye Blue Sky.

And that all brings me to the thing that was simultaneously the hardest and most obvious thing to donate: all my Rock Band gear.

Did you know that the first Rock Band, which I and my kids and my friends played for literally a thousand hours, came out twelve years ago? Beatles Rock Band is a decade old this year. Rock Band 3 is ten years old, too.

I hadn't played Rock Band in almost five years when my friend asked me what I wanted to do with all these plastic guitars, both sets of pretend drums, and all the accessories that were stacked up neatly in the corner of my gameroom.

But a decade ago, Anne and I would send the kids off to their biodad's house, or to their friends' for a sleepover, have some beers, and play the FUCK out of Rock Band, almost every Saturday night. My god, it was so much fun for us to pretend that we were rocking all over the world, me on the drums, Anne on the vocals. Frequently, we'd get the whole family together to play, and we'd spend an entire evening pretending to be on tour together, blasting and rocking our way through the Who, Boston, Green Day, Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, Dead Kennedys, and others. It brought us all closer together, and was incredibly valuable for our bonding, at a time when we really needed that.

And I was holding onto all these things, these fake plastic guitars and who even knows how many gigs of DLC, because I didn't want to lose my connection to those days. Part of me hoped that we'd all get together and play again, like we did when my kids were in their teens, like I would when I hosted epic Rock Band parties at Phoenix Comicon, or PAX, back before the world was on fire.

But when I looked at those things, neatly stacked up and untouched except by dust for years, I knew that we weren't going to play again, and that I didn't need these things in my house to validate the memories.

Back in those days, when Ryan and I would spend an entire Saturday afternoon and evening trying to complete the Endless Setlist on Expert (we never did, but we got to Green Grass and High Tides more than once), real musicians would smugly tell us that we were having fun the wrong way, that we should be learning REAL instruments instead of pretending to have already mastered them. I would always argue that the whole POINT of Rock Band was the fantasy. Can you imagine telling a 100 pound kid that he should be playing real football instead of Madden? Of course not, and yet.

But it kinda turns out that some of those smug musicians were right. As I packed up those plastic fake guitars and drum kits, put them into the truck with my real guitar, I had a small twinge of regret, that I had been focused on the fantasy, instead of developing a skill that I could still use today (the last time I attempted Rock Band, maybe four years ago, I couldn't get through a single song on Hard, much less Expert. My skills had faded, and it wasn't worth the effort to restore them). And then I stopped myself, because that's EXACTLY the kind of thinking that stopped me from following my dreams when I was a kid. What was important to me ten years ago, what's still important to me today, was the time I spent with my wife, with my kids, with our family, with my friends, pretending that we were something we weren't. We were doing something together, and that is what matters. Today, I can't recall anything specific about all the nights Anne and I played, though I know we worked our way through hundreds of songs together. But I can clearly recall how much fun it was.

Ryan and I still talk about the time I accidentally turned the Xbox off, when I meant to just power down my toy guitar, after we'd been trying to play the Endless Setlist on Expert for five hours.

Over the years, I had accumulated all this stuff that I was unwilling to let go of, because I felt like that would also mean letting go of the memories that were associated with those things. I felt like getting rid of things without following through on their intended use was admitting defeat, or being a quitter.

But after a year or so of daily, intense, therapy and reflection, after ending contact with toxic and abusive people who were exerting tremendous control over me, these things stopped being the keys to unopened doors, and they just became THINGS that I had to constantly move around to get them out of my way. Because I didn't need them anymore. I didn't need to pain minis like I did when I was 15, because I'm not 15. I'm not living with an abuser and his enabler. I'm not working for a producer who makes it clear to me at every opportunity that he owns me and has complete control over whether or not I'll have a film career.

I didn't need ANY of these things, and once I realized that, unloading them and getting them to people who DO need them felt as freeing and empowering as writing a goodbye letter.

I kept a few things that were still useful, or brought me joy. Books, mostly, and of course all my dice and games. It felt GOOD to admit that I'm never going to learn guitar, or build an Arduino-controlled anything. It felt GOOD and empowering to know that I'm a writer. I get my joy and explore my possibilities through storytelling and character development. THAT is what I love, and by getting rid of all this old stuff (and its emotional baggage) I created space in my life to be the person I am now, a person I love, in a life that is amazing.

I still have some emotional clutter, which is to be expected and isn't a big deal. The really cool thing is that I have physical and emotional space, now, to deal with it.

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thistangledbrain · 3 years

Text

Ok y’all, I’m sorry I’m having to catch up! We got a new foster in a few days ago - a particularly broken soul - and my mind has been *entirely* on him. But he’s settling in a little now, so here’s the last 3 days in one post ☺️

Autism Acceptance Month

Day 10!

“Sensory Life”

This is sort of hard to describe, but I’ll try! This is different from the next entry about stims, though both are sensory related.

It’s like being on microdosed ‘shrooms *all the time*. If you don’t know what that’s like, I’ll try to describe (this is collaborated with a friend who regularly does this - I don’t...it would probably be far too overwhelming).

Colors are far sharper to me & I emotionally react to them far more than most people. That results in some colors being genuinely offensive - not just “I don’t like that color”, but it will make me intensely angry or physically sick. This makes me curious about chromotherapy, but I haven’t really looked into it that much. My tolerance of certain colors can ebb and flow depending on my emotional state/mindset. (This crap is so sharp, I’m actually getting a twinge of irritation just *thinking* about my most hated colors LOL 😂 🤦🏻‍♀️)

Textures/skin sensations are another big one. (By now you may be asking, how TF did this chick manage Marine Corps training/exercises?!) I guess if you want something bad enough, you can shut down some of the overwhelming aspects of the sensory thing...this ability to disassociate probably isn’t what NT’s would call “healthy”, but it’s quite handy if you’re autistic, and those of us who have been through real trauma seem to be especially skilled with our ability to just shut off all circuits and “embrace the suck”). Like...I’ll nearly panic to get out of a store or something if my underwear starts feeling uncomfortable, but I’ve literally been soaked head to toe, covered in mud and sand in my *everywhere* (and I HATE SAND anywhere but on my feet) AND I pissed myself, because nobody’s gonna stop shooting/training just because you have to go potty 🙄), and I remember literally giving zero fucks about it...so it really is entirely a mindset thing. But let’s talk about when I’m NOT in “Marine mode” (cuz let’s face it, it’s been close to two decades since I got out, and I no longer HAVE to tolerate overwhelming sensations).

Sensory input is just basically dialed to 11 & the knob’s been snapped off. Bright lights, loud discordant noises, too much touching/not touching the right way, things like that. I am particularly sensitive about body hair (my own). I *strongly* prefer to have my head shaved on the back and sides (but I leave the top long). The only time I haven’t done this, was in the Marines (it was considered “eccentric” and not allowed, so they made me grow it out). Even though I leave the main part long, it’s *always* in a bun or ponytail - well, unless I’m super dressed up for something, but even then I prefer some sort of updo. Despite the fact that I like my long hair (well on the top anyway), I can’t *stand* the way it feels on my neck or especially my face - I HATE IT when my hair touches my face. If I wasn’t married...there’s a decent chance I’d just shave it all off and be done with it LOL 😆 My ponytail pulled through the back of a baseball hat is I guess what they’d call my “signature look”.

And you think NT’s have bad misophonia? *I’ve jumped out of a moving vehicle before* to get away from the noise of someone chewing loudly/smacking their lips in the back seat (he was a coworker and punching him in the mouth - which is what I DESPERATELY wanted to do - would have gotten me fired 😕)...but humans eating, or dogs licking their junk, makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. It’s mostly humans though....you have *no idea* the level of self discipline it takes to keep me from either rage crying or actually getting violent around someone smacking their mouth during a meal. I *cannot* be around my husband when he’s eating breakfast cereal even though he’s a very mannered eater - I don’t know why, but it’s *so loud* (and I’m terribly hard of hearing) - it sounds like he’s chewing rocks. It took us years to work this problem out LOL - he thought it was dumb that I had such a deeply emotional reaction. Then he tried to “chew quietly”, which all that did was slow down the rock tumbler inside his mouth 😂...gradually, for everyone’s sanity, we realized that cereal eating should not be done in close proximity to each other lololol....and now, when it’s time for family meals around the table, I’ve learned to either keep the range hood fan going (white noise is definitely my friend), or have the TV on. If it’s just mainly the sound of everyone chewing, I simply won’t eat at the table. I lose my appetite. (And all of my dinner guests/family are very polite diners. It’s MY hangup.) Phone calls are another big one. I could probably come up with several reasons why I hate it...I LOATHE it. This is one sensory hangup some people in my family just refuse to accept. I don’t think they realize I equate unexpected or immediately demanded phone calls to running naked though a mall or getting a root canal. Hissssssssss!! Give me some time to prepare myself for this shit please - you’re actually asking a *lot* from me. (And when I do have a call? Ugh I babble and am so awkward, because I’m so effing uncomfortable, which I also hate.)

But here’s an area where my “sensory overload” serves me very well:

Dogs.

I am usually *intensely* dialed into the energy and body language of an animal, but particularly dogs. I’m *so* sensitive to them, that I often actually can feel things even happening behind my back - can basically sense the energy in the area shift. (Roughly 75% of the time. I’m spacey sometimes too LOL.) The work I do with “behaviorally challenged” dogs is the biggest area where I am *grateful* for my autistic mind. I don’t think I could really do the things I do without it, successfully. (I can do this to a large degree with people as well, as can my youngest son. You cannot lie to that boy about your feelings or mood.)

We all have different levels of sensory sensitivity and different triggers, but every autistic I know has several “sensory hangups”. It often is one of our biggest hurdles to deal with, when it comes to “normal functioning”. So, many of us constantly have headphones (or muffs) on, some of us wear sunglasses *all the time*, etc (I wear a baseball hat - and I genuinely don’t like going anywhere where I have to get dressed up and can’t wear my hat. Been like that since my early teens. That hat shields me from all sorts of real and imagined sensory triggers.) You do what you can to mitigate, you know? But my “microdosing shrooms” and “knob dialed to 11 and snapped off” is really the best way I can summarize. (And that’s not all bad - my trips into a new natural space, like the redwoods, is an absolute *thrill*. I also occasionally love sensory overload - many auties do - like rollercoasters. My youngest son and I can ride till we pass out LOL!) So sensory life is love/hate, really....but I don’t think I’d change much about it.

Except the fucking misophonia. I hate that I go into almost a murderous rage over someone just chewing food loudly 🤦🏻‍♀️ - but seriously. It’s impolite anyway. Don’t do it. 😆

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Day 11!

Stims

This is one of the biggest areas where neurotypicals struggle to understand us.

We all have stims. Stims are basically any stimulus that brings us joy or comfort. It could be rocking, flapping, walking in tight little circles, clicking your fingernails together, spinning, making weird sounds or whistling, etc. And it’s usually repetitive - that’s the part that gets on people’s nerves.

I’ve found that most *women* hide most of our stims. We only let go and stim our little hearts out when we’re alone. I do that, because some of my stims grate on my husband. Sometimes I don’t WANT to feel “watched” anyway...I’ve noticed males don’t have quite the same issue with that.

I have quiet stims I do to soothe myself, and happy stims. One of my quieter stims when I’m trying to soothe myself (like in public) is clicking my teeth, particularly my right canines. I also have this silicone bite stick I wear around my neck sometimes, that I chew on (my sons like the bite sticks as well). I carry a little bag of fidget toys in my purse, to soothe myself with when I’m stressed. There’s a thing sort of like a fidget cube, a little cowrie shell and twine bracelet that I fiddle with almost like a rosary, a small stuffed axolotyl (her name is Blossom), and a few other toys. My little stash also comes in damn handy when I encounter a bored child LOL!

One of my sons makes funny little sound effects randomly (and he’s grown & still does it). The other used to randomly shriek when he was younger - then he learned how to whistle, so he couldn’t say a whole sentence without punctuating it with little whistles (we actually thought it was adorable).

My favorite stim is putting my headphones on, putting on some favorite music, sitting with my legs crossed, closing my eyes, and rocking. I’m happy to TELL you about this stim, but it’s one I do alone, because I like to get completely lost in it and I can’t do that if I feel I’m being watched...and you’ll damn near give me a heart attack if you touch me while I’m lost in that world. (And boy does it irritate me to get yanked out of that before I’m ready, for some bullshit non emergency reason.) Better to just isolate myself (except my dogs are always with me). Another one I do alone - and I have no idea why i like it so much - is squeaking my bite stick across my teeth. (This one is weird to me because I usually HATE my teeth being touched...yes dentists are a problem.) This one I enjoy doing kind of mindlessly while I read, but damn would it irritate anyone in listening distance LOL...I mean, it would irritate the shit out of ME if someone else was doing it, because *other people’s* repetition, especially if it makes noise, gets on my damned nerves. 🙄 Figures lmao!

Stims can be damaging sometimes, though. Like I used to twist and twirl my hair when I was younger so much that the areas I usually grabbed were frayed and broken (I also chewed my hair sometimes). One stim I cannot break myself of even though sometimes it’ll make me bleed, is chewing the insides of my cheeks or my lips. That’s my most frequent (several times a day) one, and the one that is both gratifying *and* soothing. It’s also the one that’s hardest to suppress.

Some auties are either unaware or literally don’t care how you feel about their stims, but I am and do. I’d like to think I’m pretty “appropriate” *most* of the time with my stims and other people around, except the lip/cheek chewing. If my husband notices I’ve gotten pretty furious about it (even using my hand to push my cheek into optimal biting position), he’ll gently put his hands on mine to bring me back to awareness - if I’m gnawing away, I’m either super stressed or way lost in thought. Either way, I can accidentally hurt myself, so he gently guides me away/distracts me.

Stimming is an important part of Autie life and should not be discouraged unless it hurts Your Pet Autie ™️.

And if you’re looking for a neat gift for an Autie? They actually make stim toy packs. Get them one, they’re fun. ☺️ (Most stim toys are designed to withstand being put in mouths and bitten/chewed, too - LOTS of us have oral fixations.) And hey, even if you’re a NT, try stimming sometime (lots of normal people have stims, they just don’t realize that’s what they are - like nail biting. Bite your nails a lot? Get a bite stick!! God they’re so satisfying!)....

Happy stimming!

———————————————-

Day 12!

“Favorite Autism Charity”

This one is short and easy: ASAN. Autism Self Advocacy Network.

“The Autistic Self Advocacy Network is a nonprofit organization run by and for individuals with autism. According to its mission statement, the Network’s goal is ‘to empower autistic people across the world to take control of our own lives and the future of our common community, and seek to organize the autistic community to ensure our voices are heard in the national conversation about us.’”

————————————————-

Day 13!

“Family”

Well that’s kinda ambiguous, isn’t it? 😒

I’ll start with this tack:

Being an autistic mom with autistic kids.

I mean for years, none of us KNEW LOL - and maybe that’s what took me so long to get around to pursuing a formal diagnosis for my youngest. To me, for the longest time, he was just sensitive and different like me (same with my oldest, for the most part, but I’m pretty sure that was me buying into the “brilliant people are just fucking weird ok” mindset also), yannow? So it was like, “well mama always told me I’d have one like me & then know what I put her through” 🙄 My oldest got lumped into the “all bright kids are quirky” category - but as I learned about ASD through my youngest and myself, it became damn obvious the oldest was also in our camp. (He’s taken the prelim test now anyway, but is not formally diagnosed.) I genuinely believe that our “shared weirdness” binds us very tightly to each other - and I’m super pleased about that.

It brought a whole new level of understanding and awareness within our little family when we realized it was ASD I guess - and acceptance. (I 100% believe that diagnosis - or even affirmation - is critical to our self acceptance and understanding.) I wouldn’t trade my little family for anything, and consider myself remarkably blessed. I can talk about how complex and brilliant my boys are ALL day (and often do LOL). Hubby is neurodivergent, and can identify with (or at least sympathize with) MANY of our hangups....but he’s “normal” enough that he’s been able to guide us (mostly me) with things like how to use tact (not often a skill we naturally possess lmao). My heart breaks when I read posts by auties whose families either don’t understand or don’t accept them & are constantly trying to basically mute who they are. Auties “live out loud”, and some people find that off putting. I know growing up, I was constantly getting my ass chewed for being “dramatic” or too sensitive, too, so I shut down and hid my sensitivity far, far away. I’m only *lately* (last few years) discarding that silly tough girl mask. (I can still be quite the little wolverine at times, but I’m not afraid to show my soft sensitive actual self anymore...to stay soft in today’s fucked up world takes actual courage - a lot of it - and strength. I was looking at the concept of being “strong” entirely the wrong way.)

I swear my husband has lived with nearly as many phases and facets, as years we’ve been together. Sometimes I ask him if this ever bothers him. He says no, because who I am at my core never changes...and he grins and says “and you damn sure aren’t boring” 😂

But since I’ve known I’m autistic, I’ve given myself more freedom to discover who I am without these socially dictated parameters. And permission to be precisely who I am, without cringing apologies when the real me shines through awkwardly.

And my husband and boys have been there every step of the way, embracing me, as we do with them. ♥️

Yeah. I love my family. We’re some pretty cool people. 😁

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vkelleyart · 5 years

Photo

For Carry On Countdown: Day 9 - Sunset/Sunrise

I’m going to level with you guys. This all started with just the bottom panel. Then I got inspired to do a short strip based on the idea for a post-canon scene in which Simon wakes Baz up in the morning. Then, on impulse, I drew the ring on Simon’s hand.

Which spawned an entire one-shot fanfic that I wrote in the middle of the night on Saturday. (Good grief, what is WRONG with me.) So... a strip-with-a-fic.

The art is above, of course, but if you want to know how that ring got on Simon’s finger, read on. :)

Title: Beginnings

Word Count: 3815

Rating: Teen+

I pull the car over. Suddenly, I feel dizzy. Like I can’t take in a full breath of air.

Simon turns to look at me. “Baz, what’s wrong?”

“Marry me.” I say it quietly.

He squints at me, incredulous. “What?”

BAZ

“I’m not sure I understand you, Father,” I interject. “What exactly do you find objectionable about Simon Snow?”

My father is standing at the bookshelf of our family library in the exact spot Penelope Bunce and I had once stood five years ago, consulting one another over the known and unknown details surrounding my mother’s murder. Today, I am across the room, sitting on the sofa where Simon emphatically declared no one was “seducing a vampire” within 24 hours of seducing me.

My, how times do change.

My father, on the other hand, manages to stay exactly the same.

I know the answer to my question already, but I want to force Father to stare his own bigotry in the face. His problem isn’t that I’m queer; he’s known about that long enough to have made a stink by now. I can’t imagine that the Old Families care much about that anyway.

What bothers him about my relationship with Simon is Simon himself. Nameless, Normal Simon who was raised in homes and groomed for battle against the Old Families. Giving up his only credit to a world that never quite accepted him--his magic--only stained Snow’s reputation further in the eyes of the Grimms.

My father is too sharp to be cornered by my question. Like me.

“You’re not giving this the consideration it deserves, Basilton.”

“I beg to differ,” I protest. “You made certain I thought of nothing else for nearly a decade and a half.”

Father shakes his head, ignoring me. “The Families follow our lead,” he states in his best paternal-sounding voice. “The world of mages takes its cues from us, and with that influence comes an obligation to maintain a degree of… magical integrity.”

Magical integrity?

So Bunce is right about my family after all. Bigoted purists.

He goes on, and rage surges up my throat like bile with every word. “I won’t be around forever, Basil, and your mother doesn’t have the expertise to do what I do. Maintaining the operation of our estate is no small burden. It demands an even hand, a focused approach... and a respect for the reputation bound to our name.”

Our reputation. It always seems to come back to this. Though I’m so furious I could set the room ablaze, my voice remains passive as I say the words I know will cut through all this bullshit like a knife.

“I love Simon Snow, Father.”

His stone expression cracks. (Good.)

Something about saying these words out loud to my father feels like a dam is breaking. Like stepping into the light. So I keep going. “When I think of my future, he’s in it. He is it. Whatever plans you’ve assigned me, Simon’s partnership will be part of them, and if that’s a problem, I might advise you to rethink my role in the future of the estate altogether.”

His eyes narrow as he sits across from me, lips curling in a scowl. The cool veil over his face is gone.

“He’s a Normal. He’s not a part of our world anymore - he hasn’t been for five years - and you haven’t come to terms with it yet. When it comes to ‘the future of the estate’ as you put it, I think you know that there are certain expectations that must be met, and they do not include diluting our influence by associating with the likes of Snow.”

I can’t stop my face from contorting in disgust at his words, but I refuse to raise my voice. “I do know. I’m 23 and I’m prepared to meet my obligations, but they don’t include sacrificing my one prospect for happiness just because the Old Families think Simon is beneath them. He lost - no - sacrificed his magic to save the world of mages,” I say, my voice losing some of its steadiness. “That they haven’t fallen down on their knees to thank him is a despicable show of their arrogance. If being with Simon diminishes our family’s influence, well, frankly…”

I lean back and cross my arms.

“I don’t give a fuck.”

My father sets his jaw. He knows who my every reference to the Old Families is really talking about, and he’s ready to deliver his kill shot.

Well, that’s just fine. I’m ready, too.

“Basilton, I will not stand by while the heir to the House of Pitch throws away generations of effort building our standing in the magical world. This name for which you have so little regard is what has made your life possible,” he snaps, rising to his feet so he can talk down to me like I’m a teenager again. Like I’m still the lynchpin in the master plan to take down the Mage and I’d better not fuck it up for everyone.

“If you choose to remain with Snow, you forfeit your name. Your influence. Your inheritance. Everything.”

For a moment, I stare at him. There it is. His ultimate threat. He disapproves of Simon so much, he’d toss me out of the Pitch line of succession altogether, and I’m surprised to realize that I’m not shocked by how far he is willing to go to exert his control over me. I’m far more astonished by the ferocity of his blind hate.

I pause to think.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Father,” I say at last, casually standing and straightening my suit jacket. “If that is the case, then the House of Pitch has no heir.”

They are the last words I say to him before I stride out the front door of Pitch Manor, carrying nothing but a box of my mother’s photos, jewelry, and books in my arms, my spare violin case slung over my shoulder. I can hear Daphne shouting at my father to stop me from leaving, and while the sound makes everything inside my ribs constrict, my legs keep walking.

My other belongings, the clothes, the furniture - my bloody inheritance - they can keep all of it. If denouncing everything they’ve given me is what it takes for me to earn a sliver of happiness in this world, I’ll do it with a fucking smile on my face.

Simon is waiting for me at the car, and he’s looking at me, eyes wide in a mixture of confusion and worry.

It’s all right, love, I think. I have everything I need.

I have you.

*****

Earlier, Simon and I had gone up to my room to inspect how my family had kept up the place since the magic returned to Hampshire. I’m the only one who never moved back to Pitch Manor; by then, Bunce had gotten engaged and ventured to America to marry Micah, so I took over her part of the lease and moved in with Simon. Scanning my old bedroom, I appeared my things remained exactly as I’d left them. Meticulously organized. Spotless.

Less like home, and more like a hotel room.

Father had called me to visit because he had “something of critical importance to discuss.” I agreed on the prerequisite that I would take Simon with me and pilfer some of my mother’s things. No one would miss them. I’m the only one who thinks about her anymore, it seems.

I’m the only one who thinks about anything. I can’t help it. Being a vampire, it’s a necessity to think and plan and carry out my daily life with scalpel-like precision lest I accidentally find myself in a compromised position with a mouth full of fangs.

Not like Simon. As I poured over boxes in my closet, I glanced over at him as he idly ran a hand over the carved bed frame where he sat beside me and first asked to be my “terrible boyfriend” - only a day after he first kissed me and only two days after he insisted I creeped him out.

That about-face happened so fast, I’m shocked we both didn’t get whiplash.

But that’s just Snow. Heart over head. Always.

I envy him. I’m so... cerebral compared to Simon. When your senses are constantly bombarded with the sights and smells of a blood meal, even when you’re used to it, you still need your wits about you to stave off the impulse to sink your fangs into some poor unsuspecting creature and drain them dry. (Though I’d light myself with a match before I’d ever hurt him, sometimes, that creature is Simon himself.)

Simon, on the other hand, is all intuition. He practically stumbles into brilliance because he goes with the flow and feels his steps before he thinks them through. It’s insufferable how easy he makes it look. Granted, he thinks about things a lot more now than he did before that fated night in the white chapel five years ago, but in general, he’s still unencumbered by the small anxieties and questions that plague me about pretty much everything.

Routines help. So does planning ahead.

I’m still plotting, even when I have no one to plot against.

All this mental exertion ever seems to do is delay the inevitable. The first time Simon and I made love happened two years after we’d started dating. I’d say it was because Simon was still working through trauma after losing his magic and watching the Mage die or that we were simply waiting it out because we weren’t ready - which was true for a while, I guess. But it’s more accurate to say it was my fault, and mine alone. Given the depth of my affection for Snow, it felt absurd to wait that long.

He wanted it. I wanted it. (So badly.) It came up during kisses and naps and homework and dinners, and it very nearly happened several times before I inevitably derailed us, using my “condition” as a scapegoat. But the truth was that I was terrified to traverse a line into the ultimate unknown. I tortured myself with questions. What if everything I’d waited so long for was going to change? What if my emotional failings are laid bare and he realizes I’m not worthy of the devastating sacrifices he’d made to be with me?

(Not to mention, his wings and tail practically sent me into a fucking panic attack every time I tried to factor them into the logistics.)

But when it did finally happen, it was because Snow told me to shut up and trust him and, for once, I listened. My freckled fallen angel - who will still eat butter out of the dish when he thinks I’m not looking, loves sour cherry scones with his tea, and constructs his sentences like he’s part Numpty when I fluster him - took me into his arms one night, and, in the middle of a kiss, whispered into my mouth to stop thinking.

So I did.

(Granted, he was also undressing me in torturously slow motion. The state I was in, he could have asked me to walk blindfolded into a blazing inferno and I would have agreed.)

As it turns out, I’d worked myself up for nothing. Making love to Simon felt like discovering I could breathe underwater. Like unlocking a superpower I’d always had, the way it felt when Simon first shared his magic with me, only this time, the universe was in my own pocket to give to Snow.

I look back on it now and then, and I think, even after giving it all up to the Humdrum, Simon Snow is still made of magic.

*****

We are exiting Hampshire when I catch Simon looking out the window, his eyebrows forming a straight line over his eyes.

“Should I call someone for help, Snow? You look so lost in thought, you’re going to need a map to find your way back out,” I quip, but my attempt at levity falls flat now that Simon knows the details of my meeting with Father.

“I don’t want to come between you and your family, Baz.”

“Crowley, why do you care? These are the same people who spent the whole of our time together at Watford commanding me to plot your demise,” I say.

He shrugs. “They’re still your family.”

“Well, I’m not the one who needs reminding,” I mutter petulantly, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn even whiter. “All of this rubbish because they don’t want me to smear the family name. You’re the greatest mage who’s ever lived and it’s still not good enough for one Malcolm Grimm-Pitch.”

“Baz, you’re speeding.”

“Shit. Yes. I know.”

I ease my foot off the accelerator as Simon takes my hand off the wheel and presses it. “He’ll come around.”

“He won’t. He’s too much like me.”

“That’s precisely why he will. He loves you.”

I scoff. “One would think.”

Tears are pricking at the corners of my eyes, but letting them fall feels like giving in, and I don’t want to give my father the satisfaction of hurting me, even if there’s no way for him to know.

“Fuck, Snow, I don’t need his approval. I don’t want it even if he had it to give me. What has being a Pitch ever done for me but complicate my life and put me in the crosshairs of power hungry ingrates and monsters?”

“You don’t mean that,” he says.

“I do,” I snap back. “Anyway, I still have Fiona. I still have friends. I have you. Father has always treated me more like a political pawn than a son. I’ve fared well enough without my mother. I don’t need a father.”

Simon squeezes my hand before he lets go and returns his gaze to the scenery passing by the window. “I think you’d feel differently if you’d grown up without one.”

He’s right, but I don’t say it. He already knows.

I look at Simon, then. He’s older now, but there are traces left of the boy he was when we shared a room in Mummer’s House. It’s still there: the face I fell in love with when I was twelve and too young to realize I was already done for when it came to ever loving anyone else. He still has a mop of bronze curls I get to touch now, and those are still his eyes--ordinary but for the extraordinary way they look at me.

My Simon Snow. Brave, blundering, and chosen by something to turn my villainous life upside down and make a hero out of me. The kind of man who would be mistreated and rejected by an ignorant, snobby prat like my father and still find it in his heart--and mine--to forgive him.

Merlin, I love him. I love him so much, I ache thinking about it. If I’m only half dead, the part that’s living is alive because of him.

I pull the car over. Suddenly, I feel dizzy. Like I can’t take in a full breath of air.

Simon turns to look at me. “Baz, what’s wrong?”

“Marry me.” I say it quietly.

He squints at me, incredulous. “What?”

“Marry me. Today. I’m done waiting,” I insist. “I’m tired of thinking everything has to be just right and storybook perfect if I’m going promise you everything I am and will ever be. I’m not holding out for my family’s approval anymore. Everyone who counts loves you already. Let’s just go.”

“But-”

“We could go to town to the register’s office. Bunce is in town with Micah visiting her mum at Watford - she can bloody officiate for all I care.”

“You want to elope? Baz, do you hear yourself?”

“I admit this is one of the more half-baked schemes I’ve ever come up with. And I know everything’s shit and I’m a walking disaster and you could do far better than an arsehole vampire with an arsehole father who doesn’t accept you--and I know I’m not stopping time or whatever the bloody hell Bunce did for Micah--but none of it matters because I just want you with me always, on paper, signed, witnessed, and fucking notarized, and anything that delays it isn’t worth the trouble,” I ramble, stopping only for breath before I continue pouring my heart out over my steering wheel.

I swallow hard, and my voice softens to a whisper. “I want to spend every day forward endeavoring to deserve you. I don’t care if I’m never welcome at Pitch Manor for the rest of my cursed, immortal life as long as I get to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of yours.”

His mouth keeps opening and closing, like he can’t comprehend what I’m suggesting. So I keep going because there’s no taking back what I’ve just done, and I can’t seem to stop the torrent of words falling out of my mouth. I don’t want to.

I take Simon’s hands.

“Crowley, I love you. You only need to look at me to make me feel like I’m back in Watford being set ablaze with your magic for the first time. You kiss me and it’s like the universe is expanding in all directions inside my chest. You make me feel alive, Simon. All I ever want to do is make you happy and protect you and yes, take the mickey out of you, and I feel... I feel like this is the one thing I can’t overthink. And in my defense, I’ve had all the time in the world to contemplate this considering I’ve been obsessed with you since the day we met.”

I’m starting to tremble, so I grip Simon’s hands tighter until he’s wincing and staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. But his hands are warm and I’m losing my nerve, and he still hasn’t answered.

“There’s no one else I will ever feel this way about. If we wait for my family to accept you, we’ll be waiting forever, and now that I know there’s nothing to wait for, I just want us to belong to each other already so I don’t have to bloody think about it anymore, and Simon Snow.... do you want to marry me?”

There. I’ve done it. I’ve finally gotten my head out of the way and let my heart lead for once. Simon is slack-jawed and staring unblinkingly at me. I wonder if he’s breathing. I know I’m not.

I’m not sure he understood me.

Or maybe he did, and this is just what rejection looks like.

Oh, Merlin...

Simon’s breath comes out in a ragged gust as he pulls me into a crushing embrace. His face is pressed into my neck, and I feel his voice resonate through me as he speaks the two words I’ll remember for the rest of my days.

“I do.”

*****

The sun will be rising soon. I haven’t slept, and soon enough I’ll lose the chance to do so. I’ve been married to Simon for ten hours and it seems like such a waste to miss out on it by sleeping.

Yesterday afternoon, Bunce and Micah met Simon and me at a local register office in London after that disastrous morning spent in Hampshire. I thought Bunce might balk at the rashness of my proposal, but I rather think she relished seeing me plan something that didn’t necessitate the use of a whiteboard for once. “You smitten, sentimental berk,” she said, smiling at me as she handed Simon her father’s ring - a temporary one since we needed a ring in a pinch and Simon insists on picking one out for me himself.

I only ever had one ring in mind. I gave Simon my mother’s ring and spelled it to fit him. (“Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger.” It’s a complicated spell, and one I’d practiced and perfected in private knowing how and when I’d use it.) She was the one who had brought us together, after all.

It was only the four of us at the register office, so we agreed to make a decent celebration of our marriage eventually and invite our friends and loved ones once we had time to plan something properly. Bunce immediately volunteered herself. (“I’ll eat pixie dust before I let you plan a wedding party without my help.”)

She cried during the vows. I very nearly did myself. They were simple - a script read to us by the deputy registrar for us to repeat back - but any mage in the room could feel the magic dripping from those words. I think even Snow himself felt it.

And thus, Simon Snow married me. Afterward, we all went back to our flat in Sutton with an enormous order of biryani and samosas to go with the champagne Micah and Bunce had brought to celebrate, and we toasted the future. I waited for them to leave before pulling SImon into my arms to dance with me. He dances so poorly, he nearly twisted my ankle.

I didn’t care.

I felt light. Free. Simon may have the wings, but last night... I was flying.

*****

SIMON

The last 24 hours happened so quickly, I feel like I’ve imagined them.

I got married yesterday. To Baz.

And somehow, like waking from a dream, we’re back in our flat and I’m up with the sun, watching him sleep like I always do. On the surface, the only thing that seems to have changed is that we’re both wearing rings now. And yet, I feel different. Everything is different. New.

I think I understand now what Baz meant when he said my instant change of heart during our last year at Watford left him both disoriented and elated at the same time.

It’s bittersweet for him, I know. Baz believes he’s orphaned now. There’s also that.

He’s not.

His dad will come around. The ones who love us almost always do. Not even Baz and I could hold our grudge, and we were meant to kill each other. But, Merlin, if that’s what it took for Baz to make a husband of me sooner than later, I’m grateful that his father is, for the moment, such a colossal fucking knob.

The sun is rising, casting long shadows in the room, and the glow off the horizon makes Baz’s skin shine gold. He looks so peaceful this way - with strands of his black hair falling into his face and one hand draped over his pillow beside his cheek, his chest rising and falling with every long breath. He often has his heart in a vice over something or other, even when he’s playing insufferably cool, calm, and collected all the livelong day. I’ve learned to read the signs that tell me Baz’s mind is in overdrive. Seems like his thoughts are always churning.

Not so just now, though. I can’t help myself; my fingers reach out to gently brush away the strands of hair on his face, and he stirs.

Baz sighs deeply and opens one eye in my direction. He grins, and the sight overwhelms me. He’s in my arms, right where I want him, and he always will be. He’s looking at me like I’m his, and that’s because I am. (Legally.) I always thought I’d be the one to propose first, but I might have guessed Baz would beat me to the punch, the competitive git. I’m fine with that.

We’ve got the rest of our lives to take turns leading.

So many of the important things we say to each other anymore are said without words, so I don’t need to say anything for Baz to reach for me. He pulls me down to kiss him, and as our lips meet, I get a fleeting glimpse at the future we’ve just embarked on together. Hundreds of moments yet to be shared rush through my mind and my breath is catching because I feel it all at once...

Joy. Sorrow. Pleasure. Pain. Ecstasy. Hope.

Love.

And then I stop thinking.

#fanart #fanfic #comic #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #malcolm pitch #first time #wedding #strip with a fic #vkelleyart gallery

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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Like, the thing you guys gotta understand is my loud opinions are far more defense mechanism than they are “I think I am right and nobody else is ever and people should listen to me only.”

Nah. They’re literally just me being as loud and as visible with the stuff that matters the most to me as is possible....because that actually minimizes the flack I catch for y’know...stuff I’m truly passionate about believing.

For example, my online behavior and tendencies in fandom on tumblr specifically....were largely shaped by my experiences in Teen Wolf fandom. Where I started out being as civil as possible wherever possible, and gradually got louder and angrier over time because THAT DIDN’T MATTER. Its why tone policing is bullshit, through and through. Because the real issue was never HOW I was saying what I was saying, it was what I was saying at all.

See, I flat out don’t like the fandom fave Stiles, as he’s portrayed on the show, and never did. Not from day one. He bothered the fuck out of me from the pilot. And this is a very controversial opinion in TW fandom, and was far more so back when I was first becoming ‘known’ in fandom, whatever the fuck that means or is even worth (seriously, its not worth a lot. You guys, stop putting so much weight in the visibility of more ‘well known’ bloggers....that doesn’t directly translate into the influence you think it does, especially when those bloggers are still holding what the majority of a fandom deems ‘unpopular’ opinions).

But back in my early TW days, I wasn’t really ‘known’ at all, for my blog and my opinions on the show. I was better known for my fics, which at the beginning, I was writing and updating fairly quickly. I’ve published somewhere just shy of 100,000 words of TW fanfic....and the vast majority of that was all written in just the first year or two in fandom.

And the thing is, for people who just found me on Ao3 and not on my blog originally....they weren’t as immediately aware of my bias against Stiles. Because I hate bashing ANY characters in fic. Even ones I don’t like, because the point of fanfic for me, is to FIX my personal issues with the source material, improve on the things *I* especially dislike....so even though I dislike Stiles on the show, in my better known TW fics, he was still present, and I was still trying to be as true to his core characterization as possible, WHILE addressing what I considered his core problem areas.

The kicker being.....a LOT of Stiles-fans LIKED my fanfic depiction of Stiles. A lot of S/terek fans included. You look at my TW fics like Where Wild Things Are or Lightning Crashes in particular....you’re gonna find a LOT of comments from self-proclaimed S/terek fans and Stiles stans....and those are just the ones I didn’t delete when I was forced to aggressively moderate my comments when a lot of those same commenters got loud and angry at me.

Which they did see....once they started connecting my Ao3 account to my blog, and my opinions on the show in general, which were starting to be more widespread in fandom due to some better known mutuals. I mean, its not like it was a big secret. My Ao3 pen name for my Teen Wolf fic is bigskydreamin’. It....wasn’t really anything I felt I needed to clarify, lmao.

But once people realized that the very same writer they liked for his take on Stiles very vocally disliked the show’s Stiles because of behaviors and scenes that I quote unquote deemed abusive (which I do, and stand by to this day).....they went fucking APESHIT on me. Like.....I can not even TELL you the extent of the nasty comments, anons, emails and reviews I got from some of the very same people who previously were glowing in their praise of my fics, especially the Stiles scenes.

All because I didn’t like the show’s depiction of certain behaviors and toxic dynamics, and set out to improve these things in my fic while being true to the characterizations....and which they had LIKED....until they realized my take didn’t come from a place of “oh I think Stiles is just the best.”

And then the fateful day came when one of them flat out asked me why I didn’t ship S/terek and if I would ever write S/terek....

And I had the balls to answer honestly. LOL. I wasn’t even insulting or offensive...just blunt. I told the person that I have serious issues with S/terek because of the power dynamics and the way they’re romanticized within fandom and most fics rather than called out and addressed, and I said I would never have any interest in tackling these topics myself in any kind of S/terek fic because my own past with abuse makes the ship just inherently unappealing to me because of how I perceive it, and I feel zero desire to ‘fix’ a thing I wouldn’t want on any level to begin with.

And they went and told all their friends and lol, RIP the rest of my TW years - and this was probably back in like, Year Two of my time in TW fandom. For a more accurate estimate, look for when I lost the will to update my big fics, because like. What was the point? Any positive reaction I got from updates at the time was just drowned out by the hate I got for adding to a story many of them were still reading, judging by the way my hit counts were still pretty steady with what they’d been with previous updates.....but that at the same time, they were heaping all kinds of shit on me for just....having opinions they didn’t like at the same time as I wrote stuff they still DID like.

The juxtaposition of those two things....lol. Man. Its a trip, I’ll tell you that.

And to be honest, the same thing has been happening ever since I started being more involved in Batfandom. You guys know how I reblog a lot of my own posts? That’s not something I used to do like, ever in TW fandom...because all the content I was making then was fresh. But I’ve always been a fan of Dick Grayson even while I was knee deep in TW fandom, so my longtime followers can tell you....I’ve been making these posts about him all along. A lot of my more popular Dick Grayson posts were written years ago, before I started getting active in this fandom....which only really happened over last summer.

And the difference in TONE in a lot of my posts, is a lot of the ‘tamer’ posts.....which express the exact same viewpoints I have as in my more heated posts.....is because my ‘tamer’ posts were written as one-offs that I just wrote in passing while in a fandom that generally didn’t have any interest in my Batfamily musings....which did not at all stop me from still making those posts from time to time....because I don’t post ANYTHING for the sake of getting notes. Its literally just shit that’s on my mind, that I want to put out there for people to do whatever the hell they feel like doing with them.

And so most of the posts I reblog, that seem more ‘mild’....its because I wrote them years ago, they got like maybe ten notes at the time, lol, and I’m reblogging them now because I have more of a platform and think they’d still be of interest to fans of that content specifically....but the stark tone difference is because when I wrote THOSE....nobody was jumping on my back the second I hit post to tell me how obviously wrong and stupid I was for not getting this or that or that and having this opinion on this character or just “caring too much about fictional characters.”

Like, you get what you give, people. You throw shit at me, eventually, I’m gonna start throwing shit back, and no, you don’t get to be pissed about that when all the evidence is there that I’m MORE than capable AND willing to have a good time just by myself....and more than happy to have people join in....as long as nobody’s being a douchebag. But if you get your douchebaggery on and start making my life hell....I’m gonna start raising my voice, because that shit fucking sucks.

The sheer vitriol I got for simply stating that I have no interest in writing a S/terek dynamic I see as inherently toxic due to the inherent power imbalances, BECAUSE of my own history as an abuse and rape survivor, which I was frank about.....it blows my mind. People are literally OFFENDED that in response to questions THEY asked me, I said....I do not like this thing, because of how it affects my feelings about my own trauma.

Like, for years I have gotten monthly hatemail in my asks for spreading toxicity and hate through the TW fandom and ‘hurting real abuse/rape survivors by misleading people and calling S/terek pedophilic and misusing terms like that’....

And the utterly hilarious thing (in that not at all sort of way), is I have never ONCE called S/terek pedophilic, or anyone who ships it a pedophile. Never. Once!

You know why? Its not even because of my own personal view on whether or not that’s an accurate label for that ship....its because IT WASN’T EVEN RELEVANT TO THE SPECIFIC CRITICISMS I’VE ALWAYS FOCUSED ON MAKING.

Like, I literally never even got AROUND to expressing whether or not I thought that was a label that applies to that ship, because I’ve always had plenty of thoughts just purely on the specific power imbalances as I break them down in my view of that pairing....REGARDLESS of what you label those power imbalances. I don’t fucking CARE about the terminology. My concern has never once been what the fuck you call it, so I never made it ABOUT what anyone calls it, and purely focused on why I think it isn’t healthy just in specific terms.....and yes, pulled from my own personal experience and knowledge of abuse to back up why I feel that way, and to clarify why I feel so strongly about it.

But does any of this matter? Nope. Because all people cared about when directing hate my way for my oh so controversial opinions was not what was accurate to my views, but what was effective in discrediting them.

And the same shit is already happening in Batfandom, and its obnoxious, and tired, and yeah, its why I’m already kinda coming out of the gate hot and heavy, because within like....less than two months of me starting to post more regularly about Batfam specific content and getting some followers who have large fandom presences and boosted my posts to a pretty broad fandom circulation....

Its like, welcome to TW fandom, rinse and repeat.

Hardly any of the actual flack I’ve gotten in this fandom so far has anything whatsoever to do with my opinions on the Batfam....its almost all about the fact that I don’t like noncon/pedophilia/incest fics and am critical of the permissive attitude fandom spaces have cultivated around this stuff. And of the fact that I think the culture of false positivity fandom spaces try to enforce at the expense of marginalized fans who try to speak up about their experiences with racism and other forms of oppression and bigotry online, like, is similarly bullshit. Like, the thing people don’t like me for most of all, is that I’m LOUD and OPINIONATED about saying that these things specifically, fucking suck, and here are my own personal experiences that make me feel that way.

And notice the lack of actual argument with my actual posts. Notice how its all about ME....my volume....my ‘irrationality’....my obvious mental health issues (I’ve heard that one a couple times already, lol - no shit, I’m ADHD, have longterm PTSD, and a literal lifetime’s worth of trauma I’m still actively unpacking and sorting through, lol, what the fuck was the revelation in me having mental health issues? I’m not shy about it, and I don’t use it as an excuse for being an asshole.....guess what? I’m an asshole sometimes, and I can absolutely point to when and where I’ve been one. I’m not hiding it, and I’m not hiding behind mental illness).

Plus, y’know there’s my ‘fake wokeness’ because a white man can’t have any possible reasons or experiences that lead to him choosing to prioritize supporting people of color in fandom over other white people while still firmly being motivated by things that are born of his own life and his own lane, and just *gasp* happen to make me care more about certain shit than other white people do, like.....I’m as transparent as I am about my feelings and motivations for a REASON. I’m not UNAWARE of any of this or how I come across.....the thing so many of you don’t get is that none of this is a multiple choice test where you have to circle the right answer and you pass, you’re a good ally or a good influence or a good person.....all of this is just life. Its just us all making choices and everyone else reacting to those choices in whatever the hell way they choose.

I’m not trying to win any points with anybody.....if I DID care about cultivating my own influence in fandom, I MORE than have the communication skills to couch my most controversial opinions in language that would be more palatable to the MOST influential corners of fandom, draw more people in, be less alienating or distancing to people who have a kneejerk defensive reaction to a lot of the things I say....like, however influential I may or may not be in various fandoms and various fandom circles....I am perfectly aware of how I could say or do things differently to have MORE influence in broader reaching circles....I just fucking hate that kind of game playing.

I’m the opposite of trying to win points....I just want the people who are around me and who follow me to actually RESPECT me enough to fucking listen to me and what I have to say....because otherwise, how do either of us even benefit? What’s the point? Who’s gaining anything from any interaction?

So yeah. I’m loud, and vocal, and opinionated....I say exactly what’s on my mind and I don’t apologize for it. I’m an asshole to people who are an asshole to me first, and sometimes I fuck up and I’m an asshole to people who don’t deserve it. And if you call me on that and I pull my head out of my ass soon enough to notice in time that you’re right and I owe you an apology, I’ll do that! And if you don’t want to call me on it and choose to take the offense I caused as a reason not to follow me or interact with me any further....that’s perfect valid and understandable too, and absolutely your right! Do what you need to do for you!

But the one thing that will never ever ever win you any points with me and that I just despise more than anything....is the fundamental lack of awareness, and lack of respect for me and what I’ve lived through....that the S/terek readers of mine who started the chain of events that led to me settling on my current approach to interacting with fandoms.

That thing where some people in various fandoms think its perfectly acceptable and reasonable to like some of my fan content....but then get pissed and upset with me because I don’t like all of the same things you do, think all of the things you do, and am judgmental about various ships you might have or fics you might read or write......and then take this out on me.

Nuh uh. Not okay. Never okay. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, I DO NOT SIT THERE AND TAKE THAT SHIT.

Because the thing the people this describes seem incapable or unwilling to grasp is....

For all your talk of “don’t like/don’t read” and telling me and other survivors to take responsibility for curating our own fandom content and experiences and avoiding things that might trigger us....

Even when I TRY and do that to the absolute BEST of my ability.....some of you still get pissed at me and go on the offensive because I don’t want to interact or be around certain content or people who are inspired to create that content....because of what it brings up for me, because of my various past traumas.

Like, that’s what it boils down to, IN MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCES. People liking what I have to say, until I say I don’t like something they don’t like and here’s why....and then its open fucking season, because how dare I not want to associate with them because that association is likely to expose me to triggering things they also at the same time expect me to take responsibility for avoiding, so as not to blame anyone else for my exposure to such things.

Can you please maybe understand why that fundamentally DOES NOT FUCKING WORK??

And is not only utterly unreasonable, but offensive to ask of someone who’s just trying to participate in fandom and have a good time and simply STATE when and where relevant, that there are things that impact my ability to have a good time, just as there are things that impact the ability of other fans to enjoy themselves alongside you as well?

Or are we ever going to get around to some people admitting that their fandom experiences have absolutely nothing to do with caring about the ‘community’ people swear up and down exists, and solely prioritize their own personal enjoyment, and FUCK everyone else? (While meanwhile, also being all: but why aren’t they making more of the stuff that I at least was enjoying when they weren’t bitching about not having fun here?’ LOL. Can’t ever forget that part.)

Its just.

You all are fucking exhausting sometimes, I swear. And that doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere, because I have as much right to be here as anyone, and I DO still manage to have a good time a lot of the time in spite of this crap, but that’s never gonna stop me from saying I have a right to have more of a good time and less of a literally triggered time, if any of you might ever care to prioritize that for me as much as you ask me to prioritize your good times for you.

This isn’t me doing anything other than saying....you all are fucking exhausting sometimes, I swear. Because sometimes, I just want to say that. Sometimes, it feels good to say that. And at every time, I have every damn right to say that in any way, shape or form I want to say it, at any volume I want to say it at, because none of this is me yelling at anyone, it is every single one of us sitting safe and comfortable in front of a screen of some kind, reading someone else express themselves and deciding how we want to take that expression and what’s being expressed, and how we want to react or not react in turn.

Like....just...its that fucking simple. That is literally all so much of this fucking ‘discourse’ is. People experiencing life in different ways than other people, and some people wanting to improve their experiences, some people wanting their experiences to stay just the way they are, some people wanting to ignore every experience that doesn’t fit their expectations or desired interactions, and other people just.....idk, just being fucking high, let’s face it, half the shit on this site is just plain weird and I like to assume the best of humanity and just chalk it up to half this site’s user base being high as fuck most of the time they post, LOL.

*Shrugs* Congrats if you actually read all the way through to the end of this post....like....this is where I reiterate...I have ZERO expectations for this post. I have NO clue how people will react to it, how many or how few people will take it in the way I want it to be taken, especially because *I* don’t even know how I want it to be taken or what I would like to come of it. This is literally just me saying shit that is on my brain in response to my own personal experiences on this site and in this fandom. It is utterly, 100% up to you guys to decide what you do with it from here.

If I have one want for all fandoms, I guess it would just be.....for people to look to their own behavior and motivations and choices and take responsibility for their own shit before projecting onto other people and expecting them to do all of that while still refusing to do any of it themselves.

Too many people keep trying to drive one way on what are supposed to be two-way streets, and being shocked when that repeatedly results in collisions, pileups, accidents and blatant hit and runs.

We all live in a society.

Quit treating other members of that society like they only exist to cater to your existence alone.

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hannawolfcrosswarning · 5 years

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Warning about hannawolfcross / spareusallanotheryear / caseclosededogawa

During 2012, when I was 17, Erin/Hanna was involved in a long distance romantic and sexual relationship with me. We met on deviantart, and most of our interactions were on there, but were lost with my account. We roleplayed sex/romance between two characters I loved at the time, and she made several comments about wanting to marry me, date me, and/or be involved with me in some way or another. When we became involved, she was, based on my math, 26/27. Proof of her age from an ask sent to her in 2016 that I found

Though most of the conversations between us are gone from my facebook and deviantart, there are a few hints on her main rp blog. Below are conversations we had publicly in 2012, when I was 17, turning 18 the summer of that year.

(a discussion about my lack of interest in sex, and her admitting she was sexually interested in me)

(something she tagged me in, my deadname is blocked out. After enough sexual hints and passes from her, I asked her about sexting because I thought it was the obvious and necessary step we should make, and it seemed to be something she really wanted. We did this twice.)

A discussion regarding me moving in when I turn 18, something we talked about quite a bit, because I was in an abusive home situation and desperate for an escape.

She knew I was only 17, and that I was still in high school during the entirety of our relationship. She was a married woman at that time, and although her husband was aware of our relationship, it still doesn’t take away from the fact there was a huge difference between life and relationship experience between us. Here is her admitting her plans in an ask reply after our eventual falling out.

(unrelated to our relationship, but little snippets of roleplaying where her character was temporarily a child, and still expressing sexual interest for the character he was in a relationship with)

(and another instance where he was a 16 year old, and sexual roleplay still went down with another person, with the theme of his virginity being taken by an “older” and gentle man)

(While not as serious as what went down with us, little things like this popped up with her character from time to time and it was just more proof she had no negative opinion about teenagers and adults being involved)

I will openly admit I was not easy to be with back then, I was a confused and angry/desperate teenager with absolutely zero knowledge on how to be in a decent relationship. I was needy, immature, and bratty. And I was prone to lashing out, pushing adults past their limit, and trying to purposely upset them so they treated me how I thought I deserved and needed to be treated. The string of adults I allowed to romantically chase me as a kid is proof of that. Unchecked disorders and trauma played a huge part, but it’s a reason, not an excuse. I was emotionally/mentally immature.

I did a lot of things I regret in that relationship, I was a mess and a toxic handful. It really truly didn’t help that the maturity between us was seven years apart, and I wasn’t aware of that difference or why it mattered. A high school kid trying to be in a serious relationship with a married adult will never turn out right, it’s never good, but I lacked the knowledge to know that. She, on the other hand, did not. There was no way she was ignorant to the problems there.

When it all fell apart due to all the things I just mentioned, she was content to sit back and allow her other adult friends to call me out and isolate me from the fandom and rp circle I was in. This pushed me to my very first suicide attempt, handled very poorly by myself and everyone involved, when the police contacted my (abusive) parents, they said I was fine and everyone accused me of “faking” the situation, which was far from the truth. The trauma of that attempt, and how scared I was, is still a problem I’m trying to confront.

She also accused me of things that simply weren’t true, and used that to further attempt to chase me out of any friend group I was in from there. I remade my blog after a while and tried to start over/heal in a separate fandom. She did things like send me anons, allow her friends to contact me passive aggressively, and create more callouts about me with information that was false (as in: using posts I made about a sexually abusive ex to say I was lying about her, when the posts in question had nothing to do with her, and were actually about someone I knew years before we met, to create a callout and tag it with the fandoms I was part of. Situations like this continued to happen for quite some time, despite her saying she cut contact and was done with me.) She also got herself involved with any disagreements I had with others, and consistently pushed to “teach me a lesson” and show me the error of my ways through public humiliation.

(I will quickly mention that her friend behind these callouts was also an adult, who was famous for being aggressive and callout happy. They threatened their 16/17 year old smut rp partner around that time with threats of callouts and public isolation if they didn’t change their tune and become a better person, which is what they ultimately did to me. They are also an outspoken “anti anti” running a naruto incest rp blog, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Years later I contacted her to apologize for my part in everything going to shit, and while she accepted it, she had no apologies to say back and blocked me before the conversation could go any further. That was the last and only attempt I made.

The trauma and issues from our relationship are not really something I allowed myself to accept and realize. I blamed myself for everything that happened for years, and it was until I was an adult myself that I realized what happened was wrong. I’m almost 25 now, and the thought of dating a teenager makes me sick to my stomach, as it should! but she never had a problem with the idea. Not once did she apologize or admit guilt for dating a high school kid as an adult well in her late 20s. As far as I can tell, she sees nothing wrong with it, and neither do her friends who sat back and allowed it to happen/encouraged it.

I still have nightmares about the falling out, and the sexual conversations between us/how they made me feel, and I’m terrified of anyone more than seven years older trying to befriend me. I ran from a friend recently due to the age difference between us, and their mannerisms reminding me of her. I turn down romantic gestures from partners that imply they want to take care of me, or unintentionally seem infantilizing. Even the mention of large age gaps with teens and adults makes me shake. I woke up shaking from a nightmare just last night about my loved ones terrorizing me the way her friends did.

It was extremely difficult for me to see past the kind person I remember her being during our relationship, put a name to the dirty and ashamed feeling I had, and realize her behavior was predatory and wrong. And whether or not it was intentional grooming, she still behaves as if there was nothing wrong with her actions, and a relationship like that was/is acceptable and normal. It really does worry me for any future teenagers she could befriend, and makes me sick to think about the kind of people she calls friends and supporters. Minors are not safe around those people, and that’s simply all there is to it.

Please do not send her anons, contact her, or harass her/her friends. This puts me at risk for being targeted again, and it’s really not behavior I’m okay with or encourage. This isn’t a callout as much as it is a warning, and a way to keep teenagers from making the same mistakes I did. If an adult shows interest in you, please run, cut contact, reach out to guardians. “Age is just a number” is a bullshit and dangerous statement, and I really don’t want anybody to learn the hard way. Stay safe

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roleplaywarning-blog1 · 5 years

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warning for hannawolfcross / spareusallanotheryear / caseclosededogawa / any blog they have I’m not aware of

[[MORE]]

(a discussion about my lack of interest in sex, and her admitting she was sexually interested in me)

A discussion regarding me moving in when I turn 18, something we talked about quite a bit, because I was in an abusive home situation and desperate for an escape. She made all sorts of promises about moving me under her roof when I was legally able to.

When it all fell apart due to all the things I just mentioned, she was content to sit back and allow her other adult friends to call me out and isolate me from the fandom and rp circle I was in. This pushed me to my very first suicide attempt, and when I begged them not to call the police on me because I was going to be alright (what I had taken wasn’t deadly enough in that dose, according to google) and had another friend on the line (that friend was begging them, too), they did it anyway, and my abusive parents made my life hell in response. All proof of this was lost when I deleted my blog.

She also accused me of things that simply weren’t true, and used that to further attempt to chase me out of any friend group I was in from there. I remade my blog after a while and tried to start over/heal in a separate fandom, but both her, and her friends, sniffed me out regardless. She did things like send me anons, allow her friends to contact me passive aggressively, and create more callouts about me with information that was false (as in: using posts I made about a sexually abusive ex to say I was lying about her, when the posts in question had nothing to do with her, and were actually about someone I knew years before we met, to create a callout and tag it with the fandoms I was part of. Situations like this continued to happen for quite some time, despite her saying she cut contact and was done with me.) She also got herself involved with any disagreements I had with others, and consistently pushed to “teach me a lesson” and show me the error of my ways through public humiliation.

(I will quickly mention that her friend behind these callouts was also an adult in their late twenties, who was famous for being aggressive and callout happy. They threatened their 13 year old smut rp partner around that time with threats of callouts and public isolation if they didn’t change their tune and become a better person, which is what they ultimately did to me. They are also an outspoken “anti anti” running a naruto incest rp blog, but that’s neither here nor there.)

The trauma and issues from our relationship aren’t really something I allowed myself to accept and realize. I blamed myself for everything that happened for years, and it was until I was an adult myself that I realized what happened was wrong. I’m almost 25 now, and the thought of dating a teenager makes me sick to my stomach, as it should! but she never had a problem with the idea. Not once did she apologize or admit guilt for dating a high school kid as an adult well in her late 20s. As far as I can tell, she sees nothing wrong with it, and neither do her friends who sat back and allowed it to happen/encouraged it.

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moonlit-maiden · 5 years

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On Nico di Angelo, "Pairing the Spare" and How to Shaft a Complex Character in Less Than 500 Pages

This will be long. Strap in. This is long overdue.

So more longtime followers of mine may already know this but I adore Nico di Angelo from the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. They also know I continue to eastly, to this day, about how he was handled at the end of the Heroes of Olympus series. Now, I've never fully delved into the 'why's and I will do so now as it's probably best to actually articulate it at some point instead of continually lamenting it without presenting rationale.

First: WHY do I love his character so much? It all boils down to shared/similar experiences for social ostracization. Growing up, I was quickly pushed out of social circles due to who my parents were; immigrants. Simply existing with the ethnicity and cultural heritage I had labeled me as untouchable. To sum it up succinctly; white but not the "right" kind of white. Keep in mind this was at the end of the Cold War; attitudes towards Slavic peoples were poor as hell. Fuck, they still are 30 years later! Nico is ousted due to his heritage too; being a Hades child. It's not something he chose nor controlled. He himself did nothing wrong to any of the campers yet when word got out they pushed him away. The same happened to me. As soon as the school kids and/or parents realized my parents were Slavic immigrants they shoved me out. It still hurts to this day. As such, I can deeply empathize with Nico.

Why does this matter? Because that blanket social rejections fucks people up. Nico is shown throughout the series to be distrustful, preferring to isolate himself. He has been shown time and time again he is unwanted due to being a Hades child. Eventually you just... stop trying. When you beat a dog enough times it stops coming around. This is the same thing. In addition, Nico has lost his elder sister, Bianca. The one person he felt understood him because she, too, was similar to him. Now I have Opinions on Bianca that would piss off 99% of the fandom but it's irrelevant here. Her death occurs shorts before or after it's revealed Nico is a Child of Hades. He is 10 years old with no one and the whole camp rejects him. It's a cruel thing to do to someone no matter how much you try and justify it. Rick did an incredible job highlighting how racism, ethnocentrism and bullying harms a child. Nico immediately became my favorite for this and I applauded Rick for having the balls to shine a very uncomfortable light on a situation similar to mine. A situation, I'm very sure many first generation or immigrant kids can relate to.

So where did it all go wrong? To be blunt, Blood of Olympus. Now, the final volume of the HHO series is a hot mess in general. Almost ALL characters get shafted on way or another with mischaracterization, simplification or backtracker on character growth. Not to mention the plot feels very slapdash and messy at times. But again, another subject. We see Reyna and Coach Hedge start to really get to know Nico and realize the extent at how bad his abuse has been at the hands of monsters and demigods alike. Neither feels this is right and shows it as best they can while respecting Nico's boundaries. In the previous book, House of Hades, Jason does the same thing. But then we finally get back to Camp Half Blood and shit falls apart for Nico's arc.

It's plainly obvious to anyone who's ready the series in full that Nico is traumatized, even moreso then most of the cast. He has been physically tortured multiple times, psychologically tortured by the camp and emotionally manipulated by several individuals. Keep in mind, by HOO, Nico is roughly 14. Fourteen. Can you even image how that feels?! He's only just now, after Jason, Hazel and Reyna's persistence that they will not hurt him, that they genuinely care for his well being, that they don't care about his heritage (and don't care about his sexuality, from Jason specifically). And then Will appears and Nico magically forgets 4 years of pining for Percy. It's so jarring, like a screeching record! This is when we enter the issue.

In writing, there are many rules. Like all rules, they can be bent of broken under certain circumstances. The rule in question is the 'pair the spare' rule. The rule states that if the pain cast has paired off, do not pair of the "spare" aka the odd man out unless it's been led up to. Rick chose to ignore this rule and pair Nico with Will, citing that as a canon LGBT character, he wanted to send the message to LGBT kids that they were worthy of love. This in itself is not a bad message. What IS bad is execution. First, Will is a background character. He very much has potential, don't get me wrong! But outside of having a few minor scenes in final volume of the PJO series, Will has only ever been mentioned in passing. From what we've seen, he and Nico have never interacted. On top of that, Will who is a healer, completely dismisses Nico's trauma. This is a very big red flag. When someone is traumatized, particularly psychologically, the absolute last thing to do is to dismiss the experience as "teen angst" like Will does. It shows absolute disrespect for Nico as a human being. And he is a healer. He should know better. In addition, Nico himself is not fond of the dismissive personality Will is displaying, the 'I'm going to tell you what to do' persona because he's a doctor so 'doctor knows best'. And in Nico's POV he says as much in his inner monologue! Yet he's "drawn to him". I'm sorry, but I call bullshit. Nico has been shown in 9 1/2 books to be quite smart, paranoid about social intentions due to past experiences and won't take crap from no one, not even his own father, the Lord of the (fucking) Underworld. Yet he'll just grit his teeth and basically follow Will's lead with little complaint? It's so out of character it's jarring and painful.

We briefly see Nico and Will in the first Trials of Apollo book. They're acting like the normal couple with Nico being the "sassy, snarky" one of the pair. Please note it's been 6-8months since the end of BOO, in-universe. In this one scene it completely erases Nico's trauma, very valid feelings of distrust and hurt, his struggle with both his heritage and his sexuality, his years-long unrequited love for Percy, his grief over his sister and his struggle to make connections with his fellow demigods. Love is powerful but its not a cure-all. It doesn't make the years of hurt and abuse magically disappear (trust me. I know.) and it doesn't change someone's personality to well-adjusted.

Pairing Nico with Will at the end of BOO completely destroys his characterization from a writing standpoint. All the real struggle, grief and unpleasant consequences of abusing and bullying people who are "other" in socially-acceptable ways is wiped away in less then 50 pages. It also send a very VERY dangerous message to LGBT youth; find someone you're attracted to and they'll fix you. That's a toxic message to tell to straight kids so why the fuck would you tell it to LGBT kids!? Unlike most LGBT character in literature that I can tell are shoehorned it, Nico was planned to be gay from the start, I have no issue with this. What I do have issue with is throwing his character out the window so he can chase some cute blond ass. Nico deserves better then that as a character. People who suffered socially-acceptable abuse deserve better then that. Immigrants and first-generation kids deserved better then that. LGBT youth deserved better then that.

THAT is why I keep getting so pissed; Rick took a genuinely complex character and fucked him over so he could lazily pair the spare and not be accused of leaving the only canonically gay character single. But there is a reason 'do not pair the spare' is a rule. It's better to leave a character single then slapdashedly pair them up. This goes double for characters who have trauma in their life and trauma is a serious issue that should be respectfully addressed. Love is powerful. Love helps to heal. But the love of family (Hazel) or budding friends (Jason and Reyna) is just as important, valid and send a powerful message. It sends the message 'you are not alone. You are worthy of love. You are a human worthy of regarding of both your experiences and your fears.' Pairing Will with Nico completely and utterly stomps on this message. It sends horrible signals to LGBT youth and scraps his complex character into the token goth gay boy. And Nico di Angelo deserves better then what he was given.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

#nico di angelo #hoo #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians

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caskit2 · 5 years

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Gorillaz Analysis

Caskit’s not ready to throw all their cards on the table but the time has come!!!

Okay then, I had to think long and hard about what I wanted to talk about here with Gorillaz cause DAMN!!

I love gorillaz,

I love the characters

damon is a gift that we just dont deserve

But how did I end up in the fandom pool?

Well for one, I have heard of gorillaz music back in middleschool but at the time I was busy with Invader Zim and Inuyasha as well as jumping into this band wagon as well (Full metal Alchemist)

so by the time I turned to look at Gorillaz was when phase 3 was JUST wrapping up and making way for phase 4. which means I jumped into a fandom that had characters that I knew NOTHING ABOUT. Do you know what that means?

It means I also had no understanding or knowledge of why people shipped “this or that” in the fandom, but I gained some intel on the characters and the growing plot of the story, but other than that, I didnt understand why I was drawn to a particular “ship” in the fandom.

*actual expression made, im not joking*

Once upon a time, caskit discovered 2doc and was not surprised that this was a ship. I have seen similar stuff that has a common theme that i was drawn to at the time. I was more interested in why fans ship them so I dived in head first into the boiling lava and came to a conclusion.,.....

I dont see them as able (capable?) of ever ending up in the way that most 2doc shippers would pick. The two are chaotic on levels of different tiers of “weird and gross” and I dont really have a reason as to why i was drawn to the ship, but It made me want to analyse what exactly a stable relationship is!

I basically walked around in that area of the fandom and didnt really form any “attachment” to it. I never really experienced a “healthy relationship”, lived in childhood and teen years were I went through life avoiding relationships. So I didnt have a good start, but I knew eventually that I would have to explain myself.

I feel bad that I wouldnt be able to give a solid answer to what makes me want to sit down and analyse any scenario that has “present abuse undertones” but I know that in the past and how I grew up with what I was exposed to...That I would come to realize how unhealthy it is just for me.

This post isnt particularly about 2doc itself, but its more about discussing how I handled MY reaction to something that I have seen over and over. In a way, I could see those abusive tones that were present.

Basically Caskit never experienced good healthy relationships and decided that it was a good idea to use gorillaz as a processing strategy....not a good idea in the end cause...OOOHHHHHHH

It confused me more than before!!!

I got friends that tag their stuff, and I dont really get so bothered with peoples own opinions, cause I was more worried about how I would come to understand everything.

When I think about how fans are dividing and putting up a wall to keep “haters outa my yard” it usually has to deal with shipping stuff, and character hating. And I guess I was confused about everyone’s perception of the characters.

Talking about the characters, I dont have a “least favorite to most” cause I have specific connections to them in different ways.

I can find similarities to noodle for the expectations she had in a band at age 10 and growing up (plus we are both gays that dont like to publicly talk about relationships)

I connect with Russel cause I lost a piece of myself after a paranormal encounter and 3 near death experiences and suffer hallucinations. His protective demeanor to little noodle clicked with me. I see him as the Heart and soul, dedicated and warm friendly guy. ( you mean a decent human being right?)

I relate to 2d in a way that I share his enthusiasm, and mad bravery to live with the same guy who ran him over and caused 2 accidents that are permanent.

I relate to murdoc in a weird way... His childhood hits too close to home for me, as a CSA survivor of 2 incidents, pain addict and victim of abuse, draws similarities. But there were things that he has done that match things to my past like the abusive father, and dwelling on the darker aspect of a bittersweet reality. I was expressing physical violence to “show affection” and was never called out for it. I was not just a victim, I was also the abuser and since it was something that murdoc is faced with, is why I hated him. He is (for me) the thing I hate about myself.

When I saw more and more fans hating on murdoc I wondered if people would ever think I was the same as him. Fans didnt like the way he treated 2d and the rest of the band, And I agreed. Fans hated him for lying and causing drama and I agreed.

His ignorance was a comedy slapstick (dressing in a nazi uniform cause he thought it “looked cool” despite russel telling him that its not a good idea) and was seen as the “crazy hooligan that has delusional dreams of fame” and it bothered me that jamie used this to cover up allot of obvious issues that needed to be addressed. and the way that the fandom treated him made me think about how I would be accused of being like him.

(thank goodness I didnt cause a car accident and have to sell my soul to satan for a shot at fame with a kickass band and didnt make uncomfortable sexual jokes or ignore others that tried to help me.)

I can separate what justifies the hate on murdoc when it comes to abuse and causing shit to go down. becuase I did those things in the past, but it didnt take me more than a decade or more to realize that what I did was wrong! I didnt take forever to change for the better. so Im frustrated at him for taking so long to turn around and go “holly fuck im a bastard! I should probably fix that”

Yeah NyOO ShiTT HunnayYY!!

I dont hate him for being an idiot, I hate that he symbolizes all things wrong about me that never got closure!

him admitting to being the cause of 2d’s social anxiety and eye damage as well as the abuse is easier said than done! but the fact that he is letting everything out of the “in-denial basket” is nice for me to see, cause right now Healing and progression in closure to issues of trauma is what is important to me.

The endgame for my perspective on 2d and murdocs relationship is this:

I dont want to ship them

I dont even see it as a thing regardless of character development and both guys working through their own shit themselves.

I am not the best person to explain what a toxic or abusive relationship can be.

Why? becuase I lived through it and I was both the victim and abuser to myself and grew up without a good relationship (and I have a fear of positive affection) so I dont enjoy going through the same pattern as before where i shipped abuse in the past as a “dumb 13 year old weeboo”

I dont view their relationship as romantic, or platonic, or healthy.

I just want the boys to enjoy their own character growth individually.

I would like to eventually see a friendship with them But I’ll be more excited if instead the whole band eventually gain a healthy relationship with everyone.

Year 2018 marks the year I jumped in head first into gorillaz as a blind fruit bat

(I call it the year caskit played with fire) for cosplaying ‘murdoc fuckn wrinkles’ at a convention around the time the fandom was yelling at him and jamming to 2d’s album.

Caskit jumped into the shipping lava all for Behavioral analyzing and hopped over fences to see other fans perspectives of characters they liked and hated just to make sure Caskit could understand the illuminati that is Gorillaz.

I made friends all over the fandom, and thanks to a few people, I gained more confidence to push my art skills and create some kickass art of Gorillaz.

And yeah I yap yap about murdoc ( looks over @russelhusselhobbs im sorry you put up with my bullshit) but remember peeps.

I like hearing about the others and have gotten more into 2d’s character as well as Jumping over the fence to go hang out with russel fans and listen to fangirling from friends and just trying to be a freakn fairy godmother and deliver some good representing art.

And for those who aren’t aware, my past artwork is probably gonna float around so if its signed as Caskit or Caskit19 then its mine and if you see my old 2doc stuff.....,

for the trigger.

But YEAHHHHHH!!! I wanted to throw all this on the table. and I dont know how to feel about that...(I swear my friend jokes with “need some feel good inc for Caskit” ) Kinda contemplating my choice between sticking my head into a hornets nest or jumping into a dark water trench.... the hornets nest sounds less likely to give me a seizure induced panic attack so ill go for that. ( I have a tolerance for inflicted pain so no you cant hurt me by using violence cause I dont have any consideration for myself and my safety)

But yeah now I can get back to drawing fun stuff. (hopefuly caskit wont have to bore you guys with stupid shit ever again! xD)

#murdoc niccals #gorillaz #russel gorillaz #2d gorillaz #noodle gorillaz #past 2doc #Caskit is into friendships and healthy relationships #Frosted respect flakes are delicious

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shirosquared-old · 6 years

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Habits of the Heart

Here’s my fic for the @shancesupportsquad‘s Valentine’s day exchange! My giftee was @hirocyonia!

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 6739 (6.7k) Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: None Relationships: Lance/Shiro (Voltron) Characters: Lance (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), The others are mentioned but it’s mostly just them tbh Additional Tags: Major Character Injury, Hypothermia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, stranded fic, Flashbacks, depictions of injuries, Concussions, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Lance and Shiro make a terrifying team, Lance is very capable, Slightly beyond canon-typical violence Summary:

After Shiro takes a hard fall, Lance is there to help support him even while the Galra hunt them through dangerous conditions.

“Shiro?” a voice yelled, the volume murderous to Shiro’s head. He knew that voice, so achingly familiar. Shiro hoped with everything he had that the blood he smelled wasn’t Lance’s.

[Read it on AO3]

Shiro groaned, his senses coming back to him one by one. First, he could hear the shifting and shouts somewhere nearby. What were they looking for? Then he could smell burnt metal, a heavy scent of blood, a hint of something almost like peppermint.

He could feel, and the first thing he registered was that everything hurt, so much that Shiro could barely think. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get past the initial wave of it. Once he adjusted, he'd be fine.

Slowly, as his body adjusted—and really, he knew he shouldn’t be able to say he was used to this kind of thing, but he was—to the pain, he took stock of his own condition. Most of his armor was warped and dented, some parts singed and burnt. His visor was cracked and no longer able to seal shut, part of the material pressing uncomfortably against his head. He reached up to pull it off, but his right arm didn’t budge. Nothing even felt like it responded.

Shiro glanced over anxiously, unsure of what he would find. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the state of his prosthetic. Part of it was completely missing, destroyed from the elbow to his fingertips. Exposed wires hung out of the end, and Shiro resisted the urge to poke them. He had no idea what they did, and could just end up causing more problems for himself if he wasn't careful.

He didn’t see any large pieces of the parts that’d been broken, probably lost in all of the snow. By the time they found all of it, the snow that melted would have probably already wrecked the internals, even if he had the capability to actually do something with those pieces.

Shiro’s head pounded and his ankle throbbed, probably twisted or sprained. At the least, he should keep his weight off of it as much as possible to prevent it from getting worse.

The rest of him was covered in trivial bruises and scrapes, nothing life-threatening, though he couldn’t see his back well enough to tell. In fact, none of his injuries would end his life. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, honestly. He didn't want to die, nor did he want to live in pain. It really turned out to be a vicious cycle.

He still smelled blood, thick and heavy. Was it his? If it wasn't his, then who—

“Shiro?” a voice yelled, the volume murderous to Shiro’s head. He knew that voice, so achingly familiar. Shiro hoped with everything he had that the blood he smelled wasn’t Lance’s.

“Lance?” Shiro started to try to sit up, but a hand pressed lightly on his shoulder and pushed him back down. He had to get to Lance, he had to make sure he was okay—

“Easy,” Lance murmured. “You must’ve hit your head pretty hard to mess up your helmet like that. Are your comms busted?”

“Yeah,” Shiro muttered, looking over at Lance to try and assess his condition. It was hard to focus, to pick out the details. “Are you okay?” he asked instead. “Tell… tell me where you got hit.”

“I'm fine, Shiro,” Lance said, watching him carefully. “Are you—”

“Fine,” Shiro answered automatically.

“Let me check you over,” Lance said quietly. “You’re a mess. I came down here as quick as I could, but I had to land somewhere else so I wouldn’t draw attention to you. You scared me, you idiot.” Shiro realized he probably did look like a mess. That he was worrying Lance…

Shiro blinked. “Draw attention to me?” Had they been in a fight? Were they still?

“Yeah. How are you feeling?” Lance asked. “Where are you hurt?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro admitted. “Just… a lot.”

Lance carefully pulled off Shiro’s helmet, and Shiro relaxed with a sigh. The pressure against his skull had been making everything worse. “Man, this thing is completely busted,” Lance murmured, examining it. “I’d hate to think…”

“Of what might’ve happened if I wasn’t wearing it?” Shiro asked dryly. “I’d definitely be unconscious, maybe the head trauma would’ve—”

“Shiro,” Lance interjected, “you’re really starting to worry me. Come on, man, are you always like this?”

Shiro started to say no, he wasn’t, thank you very much—then remembered that it was a terrible lie. “... Yeah, pretty much. I usually try not to show it around you guys.”

“Yeah, well that’s bullshit,” Lance muttered. “You don’t have to hide anything from us. Whether it’s very poorly-timed jokes, or stuff about your year, or anything else… we’re here for you, you know that? We aren’t leaving.”

They weren’t leaving? Everyone left. Even Ulaz—

“I’ve planted a bomb to cover your escape.”

“I’m going to take it down from the inside!”

“Earth needs you. We all do.”

“Voltron is too valuable. The universe needs—”

“Shiro, come on, come back,” Lance said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You alright?”

“I was just… thinking,” Shiro sighed.

“About what?” Lance pressed softly. “If you don’t want to talk, say so and I’ll stop asking, but don’t do it because you think I can’t handle it.”

Shiro grimaced. “I just… it’s a bit hard for me to wrap my head around that.”

“Around what?”

“That you’re not going to disappear.” And maybe it was a stupid idea to say that, but he was too exhausted to try and filter everything.

“Why would we do that?” Lance asked.

“I can think of a few reasons,” Shiro answered flatly. “I’m just… well aware of how easily life ends. And you’re all so young, you’ve got your whole lives ahead of you…”

“You’re only a few years older than me,” Lance reminded him. “You’re pretty young, too. You’re, what, twenty-two?”

“Something like that.” Truth be told, Shiro had no idea. It sounded about right.

“You’ve got your life ahead of you, too,” Lance insisted. “You’re not on death row, or anything like that. We’re gonna get you home.”

Shiro hummed. “Gotcha.”

Lance nodded, satisfied to let it go for now. “Good. We’ll talk later, but… later. Can you sit up? We should get your back checked out.”

Lance watched as Shiro struggled to push himself up, quickly moving in to help hold him steady. He hissed at the sight of Shiro’s back. “Dude,” he murmured. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

Shiro blinked slowly. “Doesn’t what hurt?”

Lance sucked in a breath. Take it easy, calm down. Be honest. “Your back’s all torn up. Probably where that blood came from, considering it’s all under you. Let’s get you on your feet, yeah? We should move.”

“Why?”

“We need to get those injuries wrapped up,” Lance said. They were being followed. He'd drawn them to his location when he yelled for Shiro, and now they needed to move. The Lions’ particle barriers would keep them safe for the time being, but Shiro and Lance didn't have that protection.

Shiro nodded, grimacing as Lance helped him stand. He hissed in pain, and Lance murmured a quick apology as they hobbled away from the area. Lance was careful to make sure Shiro put as little weight as possible on his ankle, but it was unfortunately impossible to avoid.

“Whassat?” Shiro murmured, looking around the bushes. “Smells like… peppermint.”

“Must be one of the plants.” Lance didn’t let Shiro sit down until they were far away from the patrolling sentries, kneeling down in front of him.

“Alright, Shiro, I'm gonna look at those cuts, okay?”

“‘Kay.” Lance carefully pulled the wrecked armor off of Shiro’s body, setting it aside. He hummed a quiet tune as he worked, mostly to keep himself calm. Some of the pieces were harder to pull off, but he hopefully managed while causing Shiro minimal pain.

Once the armor was all removed, he spoke again. “Shiro? You with me?”

“Yeah,” Shiro murmured. “‘Sup?” The walk clearly hadn't done him any good. Lance glanced up at the path, which was speckled with red and their footsteps. Well, that was a trail if he’d ever seen one. But Shiro couldn’t go any further without being treated.

“I need to pull your shirt off in order to treat this properly. Is that okay?” Shiro nodded, but Lance lightly tapped his shoulder. “I need you to keep talking. Don't go all nonverbal on me.”

Shiro blinked up at Lance. “Oh. Sorry.”

Lance shook his head. “Don't apologize. Can I take your shirt off to treat these?”

Shiro frowned, hesitating. For one horrifying moment, Lance thought he'd decline. Without getting the cuts treated, he'd eventually bleed out or die of infection. “... Yeah,” he said finally.

Lance nearly sighed in relief, carefully working the top half of the undersuit off of Shiro’s shoulders and arm until it bunched around his waist. He unclipped the Blue Lion’s med kit from his belt and set it on the floor, flipping the lid. His helmet identified the correct bottle and he removed it from the box, along with a clean rag.

“Okay, Shiro,” Lance warned, “this is gonna hurt. It's gonna burn, but we have to clean these out. They've all got dirt inside, and it'll be a bitch if they get infected.”

“... Got it.” Shiro closed his eyes, bracing himself. Lance hated to cause Shiro more pain, but it had to be done. He wouldn't let Shiro die out here.

“Three, two, one,” Lance murmured, pressing the rag to Shiro’s back shortly after. Shiro stiffened, hissing sharply, but Lance methodically scrubbed the wounds clean, being careful not to reinfect them with the dirty cloth.

He wiped away the excess blood that had traveled down to Shiro’s waist before grabbing the roll of bandages, wrapping the cuts around his torso. He had a bit of trouble figuring out the right amount of pressure, but luckily the cuts had mostly stopped bleeding by now.

Lance examined Shiro’s left arm, carefully cleaning the scrapes there. With the exception of a cut on his bicep, nothing needed to be covered, so he wrapped the one cut before moving back into Shiro’s field of vision.

“Hey, Shiro,” Lance tried to sound cheerful. “Can you look up at me?” Shit, how did he check for a concussion again? Shiro’s eyes met his, and Lance carefully looked him over. His eyes looked clear, and he had been talking clearly enough… was Shiro already experiencing the effects of blood loss? It hadn't been that long, had it?

Shiro frowned, his eyes scanning Lance‘s face. Lance wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck and pulled him into a hug, closing his eyes. It'd only been a few hours since the initial crash, but they were both exhausted. Still, Lance wasn't sure if Shiro should be sleeping while he was in this state.

Shiro wrapped his left arm around Lance’s back, his right dangling uselessly at his side. Lance took a moment to calm himself down before pulling back to look at what remained of Shiro’s Galra prosthetic.

Lance wasn't an engineer by any standards. He still only needed one look to tell that the prosthetic was beyond repairing, at least not without serious work that he wasn't capable of (even if he had the right tools, which he didn't).

He hadn’t seen any pieces large enough to salvage where he'd found Shiro, and hoped the Galra never found it in all of the snow and ice.

“S’busted,” Shiro murmured, as if it wasn't obvious.

“We’re gonna get it fixed up at the Castle,” Lance promised, “but it's getting dark. We should find a safe place to rest for the night.”

Shiro frowned, glancing around at their surroundings. Lance followed his gaze, his stomach doing a flip when he looked back at Shiro, who was shivering hard. Oh, shit. Maybe it wasn’t blood loss. Maybe Shiro was experiencing hypothermia. Maybe it was both—an extremely dangerous combination. He should've never taken the armor off. Even if the thermal regulation was shot, the extra layers were shielding him from the cold. But then he wouldn’t have been able to treat the cuts, which would’ve led to severe blood loss or infection.

“Shit,” Lance hissed. They needed to get out of the cold, like, yesterday. How could he have overlooked that? “Shiro, hey, look at me.”

“Lance?” Shiro looked dazed. Wow, Lance was really bad at remembering symptoms. Shivering was definitely one, he thought he remembered something about speech? And… something about a pulse. Weak pulse? That sounded right. He lightly pressed two fingers to Shiro’s throat, searching for his pulse. It was difficult to find at first, and definitely not as strong as it should be.

Well, it turned out paying attention during those Garrison first aid classes would pay off. The only problem was he couldn’t really lift Shiro. Shiro was too heavy, which made trying to get him somewhere with little movement near impossible.

To make things worse, Lance could hear the faint sound of something approaching. The steps thudded softly against the snow, measured and mechanical.

He gritted his teeth, ready to fight here if it came down to it. He wasn't going to let them get Shiro. He needed a way to drag Shiro out of the forest and find a cave to hide in. It would get them out of the wind, and the few inches of snow on the ground wouldn't be quite as high.

Other than the footsteps steadily approaching, the area was silent. The silence carried an air of oppression, dampening and warping the sound waves. As the sentries got closer, their steps sounded less like steps and more like a cacophony of metal, scraping and grinding. How many sentries were on their way? Was the group only sentries?

Shiro tried to get to his feet, his heart thundering in his chest, but Lance pushed him back down. “No,” Lance hissed. “You need to take it easy.”

“They're coming,” Shiro murmured. “Coming… next fight.” He almost looked resigned, though Lance could see the barely contained fear behind the exterior.

Lance’s heart shattered. “Shiro, no, I'm not letting that happen. You're safe, remember? You're a badass Paladin of Voltron.” He chuckled, the sound coming out watery. “We were so happy when we found you, you know? And we love you. I… you're family.”

Shiro frowned. “Family?”

“Family,” Lance agreed. “And the others are waiting for us to come home. So you gotta stay with me, okay?”

Shiro grimaced. “They're coming.”

“They are.” They needed a solution, some way he could move Shiro without hurting him. But they didn't have time. The sentries would cross over that hill any moment, and they'd be screwed.

They didn't have a choice. Lance squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, Shiro was still watching him.

“I'm sorry,” he told Shiro. “This is gonna really, really suck. But we really can't stay here.” He slipped an arm under Shiro’s knees and another behind his back, wincing at the pained sound Shiro made as he struggled to lift him. Shiro was heavy. It probably had to do with the hunk of metal attached to him (despite how broken it was, it was still mostly metal), but even without it he would've been hard to lift.

Lance barely managed to pick Shiro up into his arms, straining himself from the weight. The emergency pack and first aid kit hung at his waist, but the broken pieces of armor were still littered across the ground. They wouldn't do them any good. He carried Shiro through the trees, his arms protesting from the strain.

“Put… down,” Shiro murmured, his head resting on Lance’s shoulder.

“Not a chance.”

They walked a few hundred feet until the sentries’ footsteps faded, and Lance brought Shiro into the nearest cave. They went deep inside, and Lance didn't set Shiro down until they were safe. Then he nearly collapsed, his arms and legs shaking so bad that one might think he was the one suffering from hypothermia.

Fire, fire, he needed a fire. Something to help warm Shiro, or else he wouldn't survive. A quick search of the cave revealed a few pieces of something similar to wood. He carefully arranged them in a circle, fumbling for the fire starter. A quick drag sparked the flame, burning the lighter material before it spread to the heavier pieces.

The flames burned a bright green, but what mattered was the heat it gave off. Lance sighed in relief, pulling the emergency blanket out of the pack and carefully wrapping it around Shiro. Lance placed a water container over the fire, allowing the contents inside to heat up while he tried to make the cave safer.

Here, they were isolated from the wind, which made it several degrees warmer already. He rummaged through the pack, pulling out a short knife. He wasn't Keith, but the blade would be incredibly useful.

He tucked it inside his belt for now, checking on the water. The warmth radiated from the fire and from the water container.

“Alright, Shiro, think you can sit up?” Lance asked. “I'll help you.”

“Don't need,” Shiro murmured, struggling to push himself up on his own. His arm gave out and he would've fallen right down if not for Lance’s arms holding him steady.

“Take it easy,” Lance warned, supporting Shiro’s weight. He carefully pressed the water container into Shiro’s hand, making sure the heat wouldn't burn after being exposed to the cold for so long. “Take small sips, okay? If you chug it all, it won't warm you up.”

While Shiro drank the water, Lance pulled off his helmet. He pulled off the side panel like Hunk had shown him, exposing the wiring inside. The light of the fire allowed him to see the wire knocked out of place, and he was grateful that it was only one wire as he plugged it back in. He didn't know what the wires did, really, so if two of them had been out he wouldn’t know where to put them.

He slipped his helmet back on and static buzzed in his ear, to which he grinned. The signal might not be great, but now they had a signal.

“Alright, looks like we’ve got a semi-working mic.” Lance glanced over at Shiro, who seemed to be doing a bit better. He didn't look quite so dazed, but the effects were still there. “Try and get some rest, okay? You need it. The others are gonna be here before you know it.” Before Lance could stop himself, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Shiro’s forehead. “Rest easy. I’ll keep you safe.”

Shiro fell asleep fairly quickly, which was worrying in itself. Lance tucked the blanket a bit tighter around Shiro, trying to keep the cold out. The green fire still burned brightly, lighting the cave with a flickering emerald light. They needed to find a way back to their lions, and fast.

Lance didn't know when he fell asleep, but when he woke up something shifted next to him. He jumped to his feet, bayard flashing to his hand, and before he was fully aware he had the barrel trained on the source of the movement.

Shiro stared back at him, his eyes wide in a moment of clarity. “Lance?”

The blue rifle vanished as Lance kneeled down in front of Shiro, grimacing. He could’ve seriously injured Shiro if he hadn’t hesitated before firing… “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“I… still hazy.” Shiro closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall of the cave. Emerald light flickered across his face, making the whole situation look like something out of a horror movie. The cave entrance remained dark, which was good, though the early light of day had begun to slowly creep in. Lance couldn’t hear the sentries anymore, which was a huge relief compared to the panic of the previous night. His muscles still ached from the strain of carrying Shiro, and his injuries hadn’t exactly healed, but none of it was anything worse than superficial.

“Alright, you think you can focus on me for a little bit?” Lance asked. “We’ve gotta change your bandages while we’ve got time.” Shiro blinked slowly but nodded, his dull eyes on Lance.

Lance carefully shifted Shiro, reluctantly pulling off the blanket and setting it aside. Lance grimaced at the sight of the dirty bandages, unraveling them and tossing the bundle aside. He hissed out a curse when he noticed that some of the dirt had made it through the bandages and around the cuts. “Shiro, I’m really sorry about this, but we’ve gotta clean these again.”

Shiro nodded, and Lance wiped down his back with the disinfectant just like they’d done the previous night. It was difficult, knowing he was causing Shiro pain, but it had to be done or else things would just get worse. “Alright, the good news is that these mostly stopped bleeding, so that takes care of that issue… just gotta wrap these up again.”

One good thing was that the bandages stayed secure around Shiro’s torso but didn’t inhibit his movements or breathing any, which was a definite plus over Earth bandages. Lance remembered one time his brother had tried to use bandages around his chest and ended up going to the emergency room to have them cut off because he could barely breathe.

“And done,” Lance said, wrapping the blanket around Shiro’s shoulders again. Once it was back in place, Lance picked up another piece of the not-wood and tossed it into the fire to keep it burning.

His helmet buzzed and crackled in his ear, and Lance furrowed his brows as it shifted in pitch and volume. It hadn’t done that before. Were the others on their way?

“—iro! It… idge! La—!”

Lance started, trying to listen to the sounds filtering through the static. “Pidge! Pidge, is that you?”

“—kay— Galra— near—ation…”

“Pidge, I'm not getting anything clear. Where are you?”

“—way— soon. St— afe!”

“Pidge, what's going on?”

Static.

Lance swore, pulling his helmet off and making sure the side panel was still secure. He then put it back on, turning down the volume of the static in his ears.

He sighed. “Hang in there, Shiro. They're on their way, yeah? And then we’ll get you all treated and healed. Just keep your eyes on me.”

“Got it,” Shiro murmured.

“Alright, let's see… you think you can stand on your own? We should find a new place, we’re gonna get found here soon enough.”

Something exploded at the entrance of the cave. Lance ducked over Shiro as the rocks shifted and fell, effectively blocking their way out and cutting off their source of outside light. Thankfully, nothing landed on top of them, but Lance still felt the spike of ice cold fear in his chest at the thought of what could've happened.

“What was that?” Shiro murmured, looking over at the new rock barricade.

“I'm not sure,” Lance admitted in a low voice. “I don't know if that was done to keep us in or out. Stay quiet.”

Mechanical footsteps clicked overhead, growing in number and volume. Underneath Lance, Shiro shuddered, his breathing picking up. Lance grimaced, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck gently. “It’s gonna be okay,” he murmured. “We’ll be okay. I'm not gonna let them get you.”

Shiro nodded, though he still looked dazed. Thankfully, he wasn't shivering quite as hard, and a quick check showed a stronger pulse, but he wasn't out of the danger yet. “Is there a… another way?”

“Another way out? I'm not sure. There might not be.” Lance got to his feet and tossed another piece of the not-wood into the fire, leaving them with one piece left. “This fire’s gonna run out of wood soon.”

Shiro blinked, confused. “The Galra are… basically at our door and… you're focused on fire?”

“You’ve still got symptoms of hypothermia. Besides, it's gonna take them a few minutes to bust through that. A lot of rocks fell, guess they didn't think that through.

“I mean, seriously, who does that? What a horrible plan, that's not how you do an ambush. You know, the whole ‘surprise’ thing is important. It's crazy, though I guess whoever’s outside isn't all that smart. Matches most of Zarkon’s commanders, you know?” Lance kept up a steady stream of quiet chatter as the Galra broke through the rock wall, mostly to remind Shiro he wasn't alone.

“And most of his actually smart ones are now dead in space or otherwise, courtesy of a Voltron butt-kicking!” Shiro chuckled at that, some of the tension unwinding from his shoulders, so Lance kept going. “You’d think Zarkon could find better-looking ones, too, but I mean the only one who's even been remotely attractive was Lotor, and that's—ugh.” He made a face, causing Shiro to snort.

Lance took Shiro’s hand, winding their fingers together. He squeezed lightly, smiling when Shiro hesitantly squeezed back. “Pidge and Keith and Hunk are all gonna swoop in like badasses at the last second, ‘cause that's just how they are, and it’s gonna be super awesome. And then we can get back to the Castle and Allura’ll create a wormhole and then we’ll be away from here.”

The rock wall finally fell apart, scattering throughout the cave as one knocked over the makeshift fire pit. Lance got to his feet, the knife from the emergency kit gripped tightly in his hand. He wasn't a melee fighter by any standards, but he wasn't going to let them get Shiro without a fight. He charged forward with a shout, his shield forming on his left wrist as he struck with his right.

Dozens of sentries waited outside, if the loud mechanical whirring was anything to go by, but thanks to the cave-in they couldn't all rush in at once. Lance took the small advantage for what it was, working as quickly as possible to dispatch the sentries before more could flood in. Their numbers seemed almost endless, two more replacing every one he destroyed. Sparking wires and dead sentries scattered the floor in a rough pile, almost creating a blockade of their own.

But Lance could only hold out for so long, as much as he wished he could do more. His swings became slower, his shield couldn't block quite as much, and he backed himself into a corner as the sentries began to get the upper hand. He swung the knife wildly, exhaustion making his limbs heavy. But Lance was still between Shiro and the Galra. He wasn't going to let them get Shiro, not as long as he was still able to destroy the robots in front of him.

A few minutes later, one of them got in a lucky shot on his side. Lance shouted in pain, coughing and wheezing, and the newly-arrived commander easily knocked him to the ground. The knife clattered to the ground and the translucent shield vanished as Lance pressed a hand to the mark there. It was just a burn, thankfully, but it still hurt like hell and made it difficult to get up.

"Lance!"

Shiro scooped the knife off of the ground, looking shaky on his feet and unbalanced with only one working arm. But he charged forward anyway, meeting the commander head on. Lance gritted his teeth and materialized his bayard, firing at the sentries still in the cave as Shiro fought. Shiro grunted above him, likely receiving as many hits as he was giving, but Lance had his job and he needed to do it. This was the best way he could help Shiro right now—Shiro stood no chance with all of these sentries around.

The metal scraps on the ground made it hard to maneuver, hard to fight. Shiro hit the ground harshly and cried out, barely keeping his grip on the knife but having trouble getting to his feet with one arm.

The last sentry fell, the cave falling into silence. The commander approached Shiro, his expression murderous, and Lance trained his bayard on the Galra.

Inhale. He took a deep breath, following the commander's movements as he leaned down.

Exhale. His finger found the trigger, gently resting on it.

Fire. Lance pulled the trigger.

The commander fell—thankfully not on top of Shiro—and clashed horribly with one of the sentries. Lance couldn't find it in him to feel apologetic.

Shiro blinked, turning his head to look over. "Lance—"

Lance gave him a thumbs up, his bayard disappearing as he forced himself to his feet. "I told you, didn't I? I wasn't gonna let them get you."

The smile he got in return was small but genuine. Shiro released the knife and Lance pulled Shiro to his feet, taking some of his weight. The embers of emerald flame flickered weakly before extinguishing, leaving the cave in near perfect darkness.

That was how the team found them, hobbling out of the cave with Shiro’s left arm draped over Lance’s shoulders.

Everything after that passed as a blur. They were taken back to the Castle while the others grabbed Blue and Black, and both Lance and Shiro were put into healing pods to treat their wounds.

It felt like only a moment later that Lance awoke and stumbled out of his pod, only to be pulled into a tight hug courtesy of Hunk. Lance’s teammates were like a big party, loud but welcoming, and yet he found himself looking over at Shiro’s pod through it all. Shiro already looked much better, sleeping peacefully behind the pod’s translucent front panel.

Lance spent most of his time in the pod room, keeping Shiro company while he rested. Sometimes he talked to the air, sometimes he paced, sometimes he just sat there as if he could see Shiro get better with each passing tick. Shiro was supposed to be getting out of the pod today, a thought confirmed as the others began to trickle into the med bay. Lance stood as they gathered around, and shortly after the last person—Allura, having been finding a safe location for the Castle to hide—arrived, the pod slid open.

Shiro fell forward, and Lance reached out to catch him. Keith also reached out, and together they helped Shiro to his feet. Then the hugs started, and the shouting, but Lance was content to stay out of it. It was great to see Shiro feeling better, it really was, but now that everyone was really safe he couldn’t stop thinking about everything he’d done on Krishna Five.

He’d caused Shiro so much pain, allowing the bandages to get dirty and forcing him to fight for his life while injured and sick. He’d promised, and yet Shiro had had to fight anyway. Lance could've done more, maybe he could've found them a cave with more than one exit. How had he not even considered that?

Later, he promised himself, he’d talk to Shiro. They could work things out without the rest of the team hovering over their shoulders, listening to their every word.

Missions became more frequent, leaving the paladins with little alone time. A week after they were rescued from Krishna Five, Lance still hadn’t found the chance to talk to Shiro.

He ended up avoiding Shiro during group sessions, not wanting to start the conversation in front of everyone. It was hard avoiding him sometimes—Lance didn’t realize just how much time they spent together until he tried to avoid someone—but he managed where he could. At the very least, he could make sure he wouldn’t be caught alone with Shiro.

He wanted to talk to Shiro, he really did, but the thought of the others overhearing the conversation and knowing what Lance had done made his heart skip a beat and his palms slick with sweat. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to breathe, and when he opened them again he froze.

Lance expected to be alone, not to see Shiro looking at him with something almost regret. Lance almost understood for a moment, though the sting is still there.

“... Lance,” Shiro murmured, “can we talk?”

“We’re talking right now,” Lance answered.

“About what happened on Krishna Five. I understand if you don't want to tell the others, but please at least talk to me.” Shiro’s eyes were sad and the corners of his mouth turned downwards. “I don't want to see you hurt like this.”

Lance stared. Shiro, the king of saying ‘everything’s just fine’ while everything crumbles, wanted to tell him to talk? What a hypocrite.

“I just… wanted to say thank you,” Shiro continued anyway, smiling softly. “You really came through back there. If you hadn’t been there, I’d be dead or a Galra prisoner.”

“That's why I went after you,” Lance said. “I saw you go down and all your systems were offline, so I went after you, but I took a hit on the way down and ended up also crashing. I… I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you. I mean, your arm is still broken.”

Shiro shook his head. “Lance, you saved my life. You're not an engineer, you're a pilot. Same as me. We’ll just leave it to Pidge, Hunk, and Coran. They know what they're doing. But my point is, I’d take a busted prosthetic over being dead or captured. You can't fix everything by yourself. That's what you've got us for.”

Lance scowled. There Shiro went, doing it again. “You’re such a hypocrite!” he snapped. Shiro’s eyes widened, but Lance barreled on before he could interrupt. “You give us all these talks saying how we need to open up and talk about what's bothering us, but none of us have seen you ever do it.

“It's because you're scared, isn't it? Scared that we’ll disappear just like you said so you keep your distance to avoid getting hurt. But you're still getting hurt because you bury everything down inside you and soon you're going to explode. It's ridiculous that you think we’re just going to up and leave at any moment, or be scared of you if you tell us things.

“It’s bullshit.” Lance stepped forward, closing the distance between them and putting a finger on Shiro’s chest. Shiro looked astonished, his eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “I'm not scared of you. You're our teammate, our awesome leader, and sure you've done some dark shit but haven't we all at this point? Nobody’s gonna suddenly change their opinion of you because you, say, made someone die slowly or tore them apart in the arena. It wasn't your choice.”

“It was—”

Lance kept going. “It wasn't your choice, because if you didn't fight you would've been killed. We trust you and we love you so, so much but it feels like you're on the other side of a wall sometimes. And God, I just want to get to know you. Not Shiro the Leader, not Shiro the Black Paladin or Shiro the Pilot of the Kerberos Mission. I want to know who Shiro is. When's your birthday, what's your favorite color, what's something stupid you did as a kid. That kinda stuff. If you say we’re your team, then trust us to be able to listen to you. You do on the field, so why not now? You're important, too. Remember that.”

Shiro stared for a moment before answering. “I was born on February 29th. My favorite color is blue. When I was younger, I climbed up a tree and would spend hours up there pretending it was a treehouse or a rocket to take me to another world.” A smile tugged at his lips, making him look adorable. “I was a weird kid.”

“Dude, everyone does that. But I appreciate that you're trying to open up. You can trust us. We’re all way too stubborn to let you go, anyway.” Lance grinned before it fell with a sigh. “Just think about it, okay?”

Shiro smiled gently. “I will. Thank you, Lance. Now, about Krishna Five…”

Lance shook his head. “Not now. Later. For now, think about what we just talked about.”

Shiro snorted. “More like you talked and I listened.”

“See, there's the spirit!”

Shiro laughed. “Alright, alright. Not now. Besides, the others are probably wondering where we went by now.”

“Yeah, probably.” Lance stretched. “Sorry for kinda… exploding at you. It's just… you were dying and all you cared about is if I was okay. I can't… we can't listen to you fading like that.”

Shiro nodded. “I got it. I'm not going to be upset with you for saying what you want to say. I'll try to talk to you guys more.”

Lance smiled. “That's all I'm asking. Thank you, Shiro.” He carefully wrapped his arms around Shiro, minding the sling that held his prosthetic, and held him close. Shiro stiffened for a moment before relaxing, leaning into the contact, and Lance didn't pull away for a while.

On their way back to the others, Lance cautiously slipped his hand into Shiro’s and gently squeezed it. Shiro returned the squeeze, both of them looking pointedly ahead and not at each other.

Shiro let go before they entered the lounge, to Lance’s slight disappointment, but they joined the conversation easily. While they talked, Lance wondered what thoughts were running through Shiro’s head right now. What did he think about all of this?

The others were talking about something with Shiro’s arm, so Lance tuned out the technical talk. He vaguely heard something about it needing to be rebuilt, and felt Shiro stiffen next to him, but he poked Shiro’s side and stuck his tongue out when Shiro looked over. Lance laughed and Shiro chuckled, his eyes fond.

“You guys are so gross,” Pidge complained. “Can you make heart eyes another time?”

They both looked at her, confused, before locking eyes again and smiling. Keith chucked a pillow at Shiro’s head and it knocked him forward into Lance’s arms. Lance grinned and wrapped his arms around Shiro, holding him close.

“Alright,” Shiro laughed after a moment. “Can I get up?”

Lance hummed in consideration. “Hmm. Nope. Not yet.” His hand idly reached up to card through Shiro’s hair, and despite his complaint Shiro made no attempt to move. His head rested on Lance’s leg, his eyes gently shut. He wasn’t asleep though, so Lance kept lightly massaging Shiro’s scalp until his breathing evened out.

Over the next few days, Shiro had the broken prosthetic surgically removed and got fitted for a new one. Lance volunteered to stick by Shiro’s side, helping him out whenever necessary, and slowly Shiro opened his heart for Lance. Lance opened his own heart, and together they became intertwined.

On days when Shiro’s dark thoughts threatened to drag them down, Lance stayed with him and helped Shiro work through it. Unfortunately, Lance couldn’t make Shiro forget or erase that trauma from his mind. Shiro wasn’t going to magically get better and be able to live without his demons in his shadows.

But Lance did what he could to make Shiro’s days brighter and better, and it made the bad days easier to get through. It sucked that they had needed to be stranded on a planet together in order to bond, but Lance wouldn’t change a thing.

Shiro was beautiful. Lance wanted to make sure Shiro knew it.

So, one day, while they were alone and idly chatting, Lance told Shiro everything. Shiro had been surprised, but quietly confessed he felt the same way. It wasn’t necessarily like the movies. They didn’t confess and then everything became magical and amazing. They didn’t even kiss on that day, just sat a little closer.

Lance was perfectly okay with that. They discussed boundaries and what they were comfortable with, and when Shiro had said he’d prefer to take it slow Lance was happy to oblige.

The day they finally kissed was a few weeks later, and it made everything worth it.

A few years later, after the war ended and the universe no longer needed Voltron, the two lovers exchanged their vows on the altar. Shiro had rested his forehead against Lance and whispered a few words meant only for Lance, and Lance leaned up to kiss him. He didn’t need to say how he felt out loud, transferring it into the passion and love in his actions and his eyes.

Neither of them would change it for the world.

That day, they became truly intertwined.

#aaaaaaaa #shance #vld #voltron #brii writes #mine #text #fic #shance support squad

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13 Reasons Why: Season 4 -- Character Thoughts

I’ve written about 13 Reasons Why twice before. Once when the first season came out and then last year I did a character breakdown for season 3. It feels a bit surreal to sit down and write what is quite possibly the last thing I ever write for this godforsaken Netflix show.

Here’s the thing, 13 Reasons Why has been a downright mess from the beginning. It is by no means a show that people should watch lightly or a show that should be consumed to understand mental health issues despite what it tried to market itself as. It was controversial for the sake of being flashy, it constantly disobeyed the recommendations from mental health consultants, and it was god awfully graphic when it didn’t need to be. And yet, despite graphically showing a suicide, showing multiple sexual assaults, and trying to get viewers to sympathize with rapists the worst thing this show has ever done is write season 4.

Now, here me out on this.

Were their amazing and heartfelt moments during this season? Yes, absolutely and they warmed my heart and made me smile. As a whole though, this season was a disoriented shit show that culminated in an almost two hour finale that left me sobbing so hard I gave myself a migraine.

I have a lot to say about the season and these characters and to be honest, this rant is probably going to be as disjointed as this season felt but I’m going to write it anyway. So here I go with another (and final) character analysis for the cast of 13 Reasons Why.

Clay Jenson

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again Clay Jenson has never been my favorite. And yet, I’ve spent four entire seasons hoping and praying that this boy gets the mental help he needs.

When the trailer came out for this season I was really upset because it made it seem that they were going to have Clay go to therapy with a therapist who was going to make his life a living hell. I was literally ready to write a rant about how disappointed I would be if this show ended with the message that “therapy isn’t helpful,” so I am extremely glad I didn’t have to do that.

Honestly though, I wasn’t sure why Clay was having such a strong reaction this season. After all, he wasn’t the one who spearheaded the cover up campaign nor was he a fan of Bryce or Monty. Clay should have been relatively okay this season and yet that’s not what we got.

To be honest, I spent the first part of this season extremely annoyed with Clay. One of his biggest issues, and issues for the entire cast of characters, is that they don’t reach out for help when they need it. Sure, Clay didn’t realize he was the one who vandalized the school and tormented his friends but he also didn’t tell the truth on how his depression and anxiety were manifesting worse than ever. Instead, he pushed everyone away…again.

Speaking of the disassociation, the way they shot those scenes and him coming out of them was bizarre. It’s almost like they forget 13 Reasons Why is an angsty teen drama and not some psychological thriller. I was definietly not a fan and truthfully almost stopped watching this season because of it (maybe I should have since it would have saved me a heartbreak).

The disassociation scene that really got me upset though was the one where he’s in the frat house with the passed out girl. I will never understand how the writers could write that scene. How could they put Clay and Bryce in the same room with an unconscious girl and have Clay actually consider raping her. I was floored and disgusted. This entire show is built on the fact that Clay Jenson actively despises rapist. That he would never and I mean NEVER take advantage of some girl for his own selfish gain. I hated this scene and the way the writers tried to make it seem like Clay was just like Bryce all along. That’s the furthest thing from the truth. Clay might be fucked up but he is no where on the level of Bryce.

I also don’t understand why Clay kept visualizing Bryce and Monty. Once again it felt like the writers were trying to get us to sympathize with these two rapists but fuck that. Bryce and Monty weren’t good people, they were monsters. And Clay actively hated them which is why I don’t understand why his subconscious kept dreaming them up. I understand the writers wanted to keep them in the show but I can’t stand behind the way they did it.

Something that really suck out to me was when Clay was in a therapy session and the therapist said something along the lines of you try your best to save everyone else but maybe you need to focus on you right now. Obviously, I’m paraphrasing here but that scene was impactful. For four seasons we’ve seen Clay set aside his trauma to help his friends. He tried to find justice for Hannah after her death, he talked Tyler down from doing something he’d regret, he literally saved Justin’s life, and he was willing to take the fall for Alex. All of his friends knew they could count on him and yet, Clay could never count on himself. I’m glad that started to change towards the end but I wish he would have realized it sooner and also confided in his friends to help him out.

One of my biggest complaints this season though has to be the way Clay treated his friends — in case that hasn’t been clear. Yes, he needed to focus on himself but that doesn’t mean he had to be so distant from his friends. He could have confided in them. He could have told Justin the truth just like he should have seen that Justin wasn’t okay. He could have talked to Tyler about the guns instead of being annoyed that Tony wanted him to help him stalk Tyler. He could have been there for Ani when her mother got injured. He could have been there for Zach who was clearly struggling. He could have been there for Alex who was clearly lost. He could have but he didn’t. Yes, he needed to focus on himself but alienating himself from his friends was the wrong move.

There is no denying that Clay Jenson has had a rough go at life. I did appreciate the fact that he got to give the graduation speech. Clay does have a way for words and he does have a thing for standing up for what is right. I like that Clay’s speech was honest but also hopefully, especially since he spent this entire season actively despising the future. After all, Clay has to live a life for himself and for the three people he loved who don’t get to have one.

I also loved that despite their rocky relationship this season the writers showed us that Clay and Justin were brothers, always. It absolutely broke my heart when Justin asked Clay to hold his hand in the hospital bed (and now I’m crying again). I’m glad in the end though, we got to have one more sweet and brotherly moment between these two when Clay found Justin’s college application letter.

There is a lot to unpack when it comes to Clay Jenson and I’m not quite sure I’ve had time to fully process him. One thing I do know for sure is that Clay Jenson loves so much and has been hurt so many times it’s unfair. He’s come so far from the jaded, out for revenge boy from the first season. I just wish he didn’t have to go through so much trauma to get there.

Justin Foley

Of all the death on 13 Reasons Why of all the fucked up shit this show has explored, nothing could have prepared me to watch Justin die.

I can count on my hands the amount of times I’ve cried over a character’s death but nothing compares to the sobbing that occurred in the final episode. I literally had to stop multiple times because I was crying so hard I couldn’t even hear.

Justin Foley has been my ride or die character from the very beginning. It’s like Hannah said “so that’s where the trouble began, that damn smile.” I have never rooted for a character as hard as I rooted for Justin Foley because the boy had potential, he did.

In case I haven’t made myself clear, Justin Foley did not deserve to die and I will never forgive the writers for taking yet another character from us and from this group of friends.

Here’s the thing that’s so frustrating, Justin has the best character development of any of the characters on 13 Reasons Why. In the first season, he went from this cocky jock who felt he found brotherhood in his rich best friend to this broken boy who felt so alone and responsible for Bryce’s actions that he ran away and turned to the streets and drugs for comfort. And then Clay saved him because Clay saw two things in Justin. 1. He knew Justin could help them get Bryce behind bars and 2. He saw potential in Justin. And so from that moment on Justin tried as hard as he could to do the right thing. Did he fail at times? Of course, but no character in this show actively tried to do and be better than Justin. No character wanted to live more than Justin. And to have him die feels like such a slap in the face to his journey.

I had such high hopes for Justin this season when he came back home from treatment. He was taking his recovery seriously, so seriously he even broke up with Jess which killed them both. He was helping Coach with the team, he was doing well in school and not skipping classes, hell he was even excited at the idea of being able to go to college. He was finally able to see a future for himself and then, within a second it was gone.

Even though Justin relapsed after his mother’s death and pushed everyone away, he still came to his senses and realized he fucked up. He detoxed himself, again, and came clean to Clay and his family. He wanted to get better, even in his lowest moment. He even pulled himself out of bed because there was no way he was going to miss prom.

Thank god he got his fairytale dance with Jess before everything came crashing down.

I am so mad about his death because the writers had the ability to chose a different fate for Justin. They had a chance to actually do something good with their show and show that people with HIV can live happy and fulfilling lives and instead they bought into this bullshit that an HIV diagnosis is a death sentence. Instead of giving us the happily ever after Justin deserved they let him become another character lost.

And for what? For shock value? For controversy? For attention?

There was no reason Justin should have died. There was no hint that it was his funeral we were seeing until the last two episodes. Some might say that’s good writing since they mislead us but I think that’s bullshit. What was the point of showing us a happy and thriving Justin only to have that imaged ripped away from us?

Someone please make it make sense.

And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough they have Clay see Justin with Bryce after his death. Why are these writers so hell bent on making Justin and Bryce seem like brothers. Newsflash, Justin already had a brother and his name was Clay Jenson. While I understand the point of Justin’s forgiveness speech was meant to get Clay to realize that he needed to forgive Hannah I am so pissed that they framed it within the context of Bryce. Once again I say, Bryce was not a good person he was a serial rapist and a monster. Stop humanizing him! Thank god, that wasn’t Justin’s final scene because I would have been so pissed.

In the end, I’m glad we got to see and hear what Justin thought of Clay. I know we’ve heard and seen them be brotherly before but hearing Justin say that Clay was his positive influence, his brother, and the reason he was alive was everything. Here’s the thing though, Clay may have saved Justin but Justin was the one who stayed alive. It’s like Jess said “don’t love anything more than life.” And Justin didn’t. He loved life so much and they took that away from him.

What was the point of having the boy, this broken and soft boy, do all this work and come so far just to have him ripped away from the future he so desperately wanted. The show had already made its point that life isn’t fair and it sucks it didn’t need to take Justin too.

Justin Foley deserved to graduate with his brother, love of his life, and best friends. Justin deserved to go to college. He deserved to have more family breakfasts with the Jensons. He deserved to settle down and have a family of his own. He deserved so much more.

I am so proud of how far Justin came and the writers can fuck off for ending it all.

Jessica Davis

I’ve always loved Jess but she is really stupid sometimes. Unfortunately, she was stupid most of this final season.

I know Jess was expecting to be in a relationship with Justin when he got home from treatment and I know it must have hurt having him tell her that he needed to focus on himself but she was so wrong for lashing out at him. She should have stood by his side. She should have understood! And maybe she did in the end because she did tell him not to love anything more than life ever again but fuck she needed to tell that to him in that moment.

So yeah I was annoyed with Jess this season. Not just because she left Justin when he needed support but because she, too, pulled away from everyone who cared and loved her.

I would like to preface this by saying that I read someone say something like “Jess can’t call herself a feminist because she fucks with boys to fuck with their emotions.” My response to that person and that thought process is fuck you. Newsflash, a person can be a feminist and like sex. A girl can be a feminists and still make mistakes.

Now that that is out of the way, I will say that I do not agree with Jess’s choices this season. She should have never got involved with Diego. I don’t care if she was “trying to keep him at bay” or “trying to see what he knew” she should not have been with him. After the thing with Justin, Jess should have taken the time to figure out who she was just like Justin was trying to figure out who he was. After all, no one really believed that Jess and Justin weren’t still in love with each other. Her story would have been so much more interesting if we got to see her support herself and support Justin in his sobriety instead of doing whatever the fuck she thought she was doing. Not to mention, she should never have walked away from him when she caught him relapsing in the ally way. I don’t care that he yelled at her, she should have pulled his ass out of there and taken him home. Not because it’s her responsibility to keep him alive but because she knew him better than anyone and knew that he didn’t deserve to be there again.

Not to mention, her dating Diego took away from all the cute Justin/Jess moments we deserved and now are never going to get.

The sad thing is, that’s not the only mistake the writers made with Jess.

Aside from abandoning Justin in the moment, one of my biggest issues with Jess was her complicated feelings around Bryce continued to be a big part of this season. Which again I say, Bryce was a rapist who didn’t deserve redemption so stop trying to make it happen.

The final scene after graduation where Jess sees Bryce and goes up to him ignited a rage within me that I actually stopped my inconsolable crying. In the scene, Bryce tells Jess that he won again to which Jess responds that they never would have all be friends if it wasn’t for him. Bryce then tells her “well that’s something right?”

While yes, this group of friends probably wouldn’t have been friends if it wasn’t for Bryce that doesn’t suddenly make Bryce a good person. Jess shouldn’t have even given Bryce the time of day. The ghost she should have seen should have been Justin. Let’s face it, Justin was the one who deserved to be in that final scene not fucking Bryce.

The only thing that Jess did do right, in regards to Bryce, was confronting Ani for sleeping with him. I’m glad she finally got hash that out because I truly cannot believe it was never a bigger issue with their friendship.

Another thing I still can’t get over is the fact that Jess dated Diego who spent the entire season trying to bring justice to Monty, a rapist who happened to rape one of Jess’s best friends. So yeah I’m anti Diego/Jess. Oh, and I also hated the fact that they tried to make it seem like Jess was going to end up with Diego “in a month.” Hello, the love of her life just died! The two of you are getting HIV tested because of his death and you think now is a good time to ask her out? Give me a fucking break.

I also didn’t understand why she pulled away from Alex and the rest of the group this season. Jess and Alex literally are ride or die and yet they basically ignored each other the entire season. I would have liked to see them bonding more. It would have been nice to see Alex confide in Jess about his sexuality. Maybe Alex could have helped Jess understand why Justin couldn’t have been in a relationship. I just wanted more of them together.

Again I will say, this cast is strongest when they rely on each other and no one seemed to rely on each other at all this season.

For all the negatives regarding Jess this season there were some positives. The scene where she leads the walk out after the fake shooter drill and the cameras and Diego being racially profiled was amazing. That is the Jess I love to see. The strong and outspoken Jess who stands up for what is right, even if it means she’s going to get in trouble. That episode was also extremely relevant in more ways than I can even begin to explain (but that’s a topic for another day).

I am glad we did get some quality Justin/Jess content. Though I would have liked more. I wanted to see the exchange that occurred when she found out his mother died. I would have liked to see them celebrate Justin getting into college and figuring out what Jess’s future was going to be since she got denied from her top three schools. Again, I wanted to see them support each other. However, I am so glad we got that dance scene at prom. If only the show had ended there. Truthfully that scene encompasses why I love Justin and Jess together so much. Are they a toxic couple, yes? But dammit, they love each other so much while also reminding each other not to put their love for one another above their love for life.

I’m also glad we got to see Justin and Jess in the hospital together even if it killed me. I’m glad Jess got to tell Justin one more time that he didn’t ruin her life, that he helped her find love. I’m glad they got to spend one more moment cuddled together in bed. I wish they had a lifetime more to spend together but dammit at least we got that scene.

When looking at Jess’s storyline as a whole from the entire series she really has come so far and yet this season she felt so stagnant. I just wanted and expected more from her.

Alex Standall

Alex Standall went from “I’m not gay” to making out with three boys and landing the best boyfriend ever all in the span of 10 episodes and I could not be more proud.

Given all Alex has been through he honestly was way more composed than I thought he would have been considering he was the one who killed Bryce. And yet, the only time we truly get to see him deal with the complex emotions he feels is during the camping trip when he breaks down in front of his dad. To be honest, I’m kind of glad we didn’t get an entire season of Alex being “woe is me” for killing Bryce because he really is the fucking hero of the story if you ask me.

That’s not to say Alex’s story this season is without faults.

One of the biggest issues I had with Alex this season is his disregard for Zach’s well being. Zach spent the entire second and third season working with Alex to get better. Zach was there for him in more ways than he could imagine and yet when Zach was struggling Alex didn’t show him the same kind of support. Now, some might say that’s because he felt embarrassed for kissing Zach but that’s a coup out. While the moment might have been awkward, they moved on from it. So no that’s not a reason and Alex should have been there for Zach. Hell, even in his fucked up state Zach was still championing Alex and pushing him towards Charlie. I am glad that Alex did push him to see Justin in the end but the support was long overdo.

The other issue I had with Alex this season was his relationship with Winston but to be fair, he didn’t know who Winston was when they started seeing each other so I’ll forgive him…I guess.

Now on to something positive, for once.

Alex Standall. Little Alex Standall who put Hannah and Jess against each other, who spent his entire high school career hating Justin for dating Jess, who nearly took his own life, who killed a rapist, who’s been through so much shit finally got his happily ever after. I know a lot of us were rooting for Alex and Zach to be endgame but I honestly could not be more thrilled that he got his happy ever after with Charlie.

To see Alex go from this broken and lonely kid to prom king with his boyfriend is the true definition of growth and happiness. Is Alex healed because he found love? Absolutely not, but he’s with someone who knows that Alex has a lot going on and he doesn’t care. He loves him regardless.

I really loved how causal Alex’s coming out scene was with his parents. And I loved that his brother was like “you’re dating the quarterback, that’s amazing.” It was not only heartwarming but it was funny and I loved it. I also loved that Alex didn’t have this coming out moment with his friends. He didn’t have to explain his feelings for Zach or Winston or Charlie. He didn’t have to say “I’m gay or bisexual ” to them. He just showed up with Charlie and that was that. I really applaud the writers for making that move.

I also loved that despite all their differences, Alex was able to be there for Justin in the end. It didn’t even feel like a forced thing, he wanted to be there for him. Alex even spoke, or tried to speak at Justin’s funeral and told everyone that Justin was there for him when it mattered. That showed tremendous growth for Alex who literally wanted to kill Justin more times than I can count.

Lastly, I would just like to say that I am so glad that Alex Standall is free. He didn’t deserve to go to jail for killing Bryce. There was a moment during prom where Alex, Jess, and Zach are all sitting there talking about Bryce and how he didn’t deserve to die. And I was so mad because dammit Bryce was a piece of shit who didn’t deserve to live but I think Zach really said it best, “he didn’t deserve to die, but we deserve to live.” Nothing could be farther from the truth. I’m glad Alex gets to finally live.

Zach Dempsey

All I’ve wanted for four seasons is for Zach to get the storyline he deserves and once again he was fucked over by the writers.

Here’s the thing, if Justin had the best positive character development of this cast, Zach Dempsey had the worst. After all, he spent this entire season regressing.

When Zach was first introduced back in season one he was this misguided jock who liked Hannah but had a weird way of showing it. And he was there for Alex in the second season and welcomed Justin back in the third season. We also saw him in the third season being cautious around the rest of the group after the Tyler incident. But he eventually warmed up to them all and realized that this group of friends are ride or die when it matters.

Sure, Zach had a hell of a season three ending after losing his entire athletic career at the hands of Bryce and beating the shit out of him but Zach knew he didn’t kill Bryce. In fact, the police flat out told him that in the third season which is why his choices this season made no sense to me. Perhaps, though, I’m being too narrow minded. Perhaps, Zach’s decision to drink and be reckless didn’t stem from his guilt over Bryce but rather his anger over the fact that his future was going to look completely different because of Bryce.

I will say this, Zach Dempsey deserved better from the writers but he also deserved better from his friends. I talked about this briefly with Alex’s breakdown but I’m going to say it again. Why wasn’t anyone there for Zach? Zach helped Justin get back on the football team so why the fuck didn’t Justin do more to help Zach? Surely he knows what its like to go down a destructive path. He knows the signs. Where was he?

And what about Clay? Clay practically leaves Zach for dead after crashing the car. Like what the fuck! Or Tony? I don’t think these two even say more that two words to each other this season and that’s pushing it. These two practically saved every single one of the people in the group and yet they didn’t care enough to reach out to Zach. And yes, I know everyone was going through their own shit but everyone is always going through their own shit. Zach deserved friendship. He deserved friends to call him out on his bullshit. I am glad that Alex and Charlie were able to pull him together to see Justin I just wished they had given him that pep talk sooner.

What about his family? Where was his mother or his sister? Why was no one watching out for this poor boy who was struggling? Where was his therapy session? Zach was just as worthy of being saved as everyone else.

Also, I absolutely cannot forgive the writers for making it seem like Zach was going to rape his barely conscious, sex-worker prom date. Just like Clay would never do that, Zach would never do that. He spent multiple seasons actively shutting that shit down so for the writers to even suggest he would become a monster like that is so disrespectful.

The one thing I can and will praise Zach on is his reaction when Alex kissed him on the rooftop. That scene reminded me of the sweet and innocent Zach that we had known prior to this seasons events. I love that he didn’t make things awkward or yell at Alex or anything. The two of them were able to laugh about it and move on. It never made their friendship awkward and they even joked about it later.

I am glad that by the time graduation came along Zach turned himself around. The death of Justin saved him in my opinion and in some ways I feel like Zach and Justin’s stories are eerily similar. They both saved each other at some point in time. They were both saved by their coach who gave them hell but saw potential in them. Perhaps, Justin was Zach’s cautionary tale.

Tyler Down

While I was disappointed in the lack of Tyler this season it did somewhat make sense. In my eyes, Tyler has already gotten his redemption arc so it seems fair that he could have faded in the background this season. However, when you set up the first half of the season revolving around Tyler being called into the police for the guns and then don’t explain it there a problem.

Did I think Tyler was working for the police? Yes, but it still should have been explored more. If anything else the failed sting should have been explained more. That episode ended in a cliff hanger with a gun shot going off and then the next episode started with no mention of anything. I seriously thought someone got shot but apparently that wasn’t the case.

While I understand why Tyler couldn’t tell Clay and Tony about his involvement I do think he could have given them more than just an “it’s handled.” After all, when has had anything been handled neatly when it came to this group.

I did find his relationship/friendship with Estella to be quite interesting. In some ways it’s the biggest fuck you to Monty and in other ways its extremely confusing because why on earth would someone want to be hang out with the sibling of the person who raped you. But then again, we are not products of our families, we are products of our own choices and Estella actively chose to speak out against sexual assault.

Overall, I’ve been pleased with Tyler’s journey over the course of the four seasons. I’m glad he got to live. I’m glad he’s happy. I’m glad he’s healing.

Tony Padilla

To me, Tony Padilla constantly gets treated like a secondary character when he has an important place in the overall narrative of this story. Last season we did get to learn more about his personal life and I am glad that continued this season. But I still think the writers could have given us more.

I did enjoy seeing him find himself in the boxing ring. In the first seasons Tony was this kid who was constantly getting in trouble for fighting and over the course of the remaining seasons he really learned to harness that anger into something a bit more positive. And he’s damn good at it. I’m glad Caleb and his father were able to talk him into going to college. Tony deserves the world after everything he’s been through.

One complaint I do have is how the show wants to write Clay and Tony as this ride or die friendship but they’re rarely ever there for each other unless a disaster is on the horizon. Why wasn’t Tony checking in more on Clay’s deteriorating mental state? Why wasn’t Clay present at any of Tony’s boxing matches? Why didn’t they have conversations that didn’t revolve around Tyler and the mysterious guns? If the writers really wanted us to believe that these two were ride or die they didn’t do enough to show us. And while the end scene of Clay and Tony driving off in the mustang was sweet and made the show come full circle, Clay should have been driving off with Justin.

However, I will say this, it absolutely warmed my heart when Tony realized that his friends and adults around him did care and want the best for him. For so long Tony has been the back bone of this friend group, the one that is there to clean up their messes and be a shoulder to cry on. And for the first time he gets to be the one who gets support. We see this happen during the school walk out when his friends try to tell him not to leave the fight but they realize he has to, to protect themselves. And eventually Tony does join the fight to protect Tyler. But then something happens, the police officer who’s been training him steps him and lets Tony go because he knows Tony can’t get arrested. He knows Tony will face bigger consequences for his actions and he doesn’t want that because he sees the potential Tony has to do great. It’s not just that scene though, we see Caleb and his father supporting him throughout the season too.

Overall, I think Tony is a character who grew into his own but also stayed true to himself.

Ani Achola

Just like many of us, I am not a fan of Ani.

She was irrelevant and annoying in the third season and she became even more irrelevant in this season. Honestly, I think it was wise of the writers to have her take a back seat role during this season because of all the criticism they received from last season. I do feel sorry for Grace Saif who plays her though because she is extremely talented.

Ani was a bit all over the place this season, even more so than she was last season. To be honest, I wasn’t sure why she wasn’t on edge knowing Winston and Diego and the rest of the football team were trying to figure out what happened to Monty. After all, she’s the one who spearheaded the campaign to frame him. She felt too okay and too calm with everything going on — it’s almost as if she thrived on the chaos.

I’m glad that her and Clay ended up breaking up. They were never a good match to begin with and it never sat well with me how she introduced Clay as her boyfriend to her mom without even asking him. I think there need to fix people is what became their demise because neither one was able to confide in the other without having them try to be the rescuer.

I do applaud the writers for finally having Jess confront Ani about her relationship with Bryce. That was such a major part of last season and while they touched upon it they never really discussed it further. Ani needed to be held accountable for her actions so I’m glad Jess set that in motion. I’m also glad they were able to come away from that and still be friends. That took courage and strength from Jess that I don’t think I would have.

The scene between Ani and Mrs. Walker was interesting. At first I thought she was being dumb for not talking Bryce’s college fund for herself but then in the same breath I understand because why would she want anything from the person who ruined all of her friends’ lives, even if she did “see something in him.” The resolution to that plot point was perfect though. What’s better than using a rapists money to fund the anti-sexual assault club at the school? It’s the ultimate revenge.

I also am grateful to the writers that they didn’t give us an Ani scene where she talks to ghost Bryce. One of the few good choices they made this season.

My biggest complaint regarding Ani this season is the fact that she was completely missing when Justin was dying. Sure, we didn’t need a scene with her in the room with him but she wasn’t even in the lobby. Regardless of her feelings towards Justin she should have been there. She should have been there to support Jess and Clay and Alex and every one of her friends who sat in that hospital lobby waiting for their turn to say goodbye to yet another classmate gone too soon.

Overall, I think Ani was irrelevant as a whole. She had no business befriending all these people and while she may have saved them I think they could have saved themselves without her help.

Charlie St. George

In the history of good Liberty High jocks, Charlie St. George is by far the best one and my favorite.

Standing up to your team especially when your the young player is a hard thing to do but Charlie did it last season so well. In fact, he even earned himself the captain spot this season and that’s a title he truly deserves. He constantly held his teammates accountable and put them in line when they were being disrespectful and assholes.

I also loved that his coming-out scene was just a casual conversation with his father who didn’t lash out or challenge his views. In fact, his dad joked about his obsession with Eli Manning and how he wouldn’t love him any less. Of all the fucked up things in this show, the one thing they often got right was showing parents who unconditionally love their children and that’s important.

Charlie’s greatest moments though are in his scenes with Alex. At first, I was a bit blind-sighted by their relationship (albeit I did support it right away) but then someone pointed out that in the final scene of last season, Charlie is watching Alex and that’s when I knew the writers had this planned all along. As much as we all wanted Alex and Zach to be a thing, Alex and Charlie was everything we wanted and more.

Not only was Charlie an amazing friend to Alex and willing to cover up a murder when he hardly knew him but he’s also a loving and supporting boyfriend, even before he had the label. Charlie researched Alex’s TBI and knew how to calm him down when he was having a panic attack and hearing things. He knew when Alex needed a shoulder to cry on and when Alex needed some space. And he knew, even when Alex didn’t want to admit it, that Alex deserved him.

I loved their first kiss. I loved the scene at the pier where Alex tries to push Charlie away but Charlie won’t let him. I love the promposal sequence. And I absolutely loved prom.

Liberty High’s Class of 2019 having two prom kings was everything we ever wanted.

I think what made it even better was the fact that they won at the hands of the football team. A team that was previously lead by two rapist who were constantly making fun of people’s sexual orientations and being homophobic assholes all the time. To see that team supporting and rooting for Charlie and Alex was a truly magical moment.

While I was and still am a bit confused why he got involved with this messy group, I’m glad he did. And I’m so glad there isn’t a fifth season that will ruin him because he needs to be protected at all costs.

Winston

I’m going to say something controversial here and I’m not sure how people are going to take it.

Winston is a gay version of season one Clay who falls in love with his made up version of people and then seeks revenge so that he’s not the only one in pain.

Literally, if you look at Clay’s arc in season one and Winston’s in this season you see they are the exactly same person. Winston may have transferred to Liberty after getting kicked out of Hillcrest but his true motivation was to figure out who framed Monty. And for what? They hung out what, two times? And the first time Monty literally beat the shit out of Winston!

Winston had this idolized version of who Monty was in his head. He essentially turned Monty into this manic pixie dream boy, just like Clay did with Hannah. This is proved in the prom scene when Winston dances with ghost Monty. In that scene Monty confirms that there was never a possibility that the two of them would ever be able to dance like this together, that Monty would never have let Winston fall in love with him. In fact, he tells Winston to live with the living. It’s the only thing Monty ever did right.

What’s even better is that Winston ends up falling for Alex, next. In fact in one scene he’s telling everyone that Alex is the first boy he loved and yet a minute later he’s back to seeking revenge for Monty because he loved him. Which is it Winston? And doesn’t that remind you of Clay?

I don’t feel sorry for Winston and I’m not his fan. He spent the entire season being a rape apologist and even went as far as befriending Tyler to get more information about Monty. That’s despicable. He doesn’t get a gold star for not telling the police the truth because he only didn’t do it because he “loved” Alex.

But unlike Clay who supports his friends and does this out of the good of his heart, Winston only did it to seek revenge. And I truly don’t think he cared about anyone.

For all I care Winston can go rot with Bryce and Monty.

Diego Torres

I don’t have much to say about Diego other than I wasn’t a fan.

The only redeemable thing about him was that he supported Charlie and Alex and wasn’t a homophobic asshole. However, being a decent human being in one aspect of life doesn’t make him worthy of anything. Especially when we spent most of the season being a rape apologist and tormenting Clay who was already in a fragile state.

Also, I absolutely hated his final scene with Jess when they were getting the results of their HIV test. How on earth could this dumbass kid ask Jess out after she just lost the love of her life to AIDS and they’ve just been HIV tested. How selfish and stupid can he be?

I will say that he did not deserve to be racially profiled during the fight scene between him and Justin. And I’m glad that Justin stood up for him and Diego in turn stood up for Justin during the fight with the police. Again, though, that doesn’t excuse the rest of his actions this season.

Perhaps if he would have admitted his wrong doings and apologized to Clay I could have gotten behind him but he didn’t and therefor he can rot with the rest of them.

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While I have a lot more to say about these characters and this season I think I’m going to have to end it here. Perhaps, I’ll end up writing another post or review for this show but we’ll see. As I’ve said before there’s so much to unpack about this show that it’s hard to analyze everything.

You can stream the final season of 13 Reasons Why on Netflix.

What did you think of the characters this season? Do you think Justin deserved to die? Were you happy with the outcomes? Let me know in the comments below or by tweeting me @3RsBlog.

#13 reasons why #13rw #13 reasons why season 4 #rants #rant #clay jenson #justin foley #jessica davis #tyler down #Alex Standall #zach demspy #charlie st. george #diego torres #winston #ani achola

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