#confront fear

[funsimplethings]

[verygoodestboy]

the way white queers ascribe sainthood to Black trans women and completely ignore Black trans men and Black nonbinary people has convinced me more than anything else that they really truly don’t care about any Black trans people beyond wearing us as a little badge they can show off to prove they’re The Good Ones

[whore-man]

if there was ever a tv adaptation of the magnus archives i think sasha should be played by the same person as notsasha the whole time.

there are perhaps a few polaroids shown briefly in the background with someone you don't recognize during s1, but they disappear in s2.

in the end, the viewer doesn't remember the 'real' sasha either, because she was never acting in the show. all you have is memories of notsasha.

the first time we actually see the actor in the pictures from s1 is in the flashbacks at the beginning of s5; sasha and tim talking, jon's birthday, sweet memories that just- don't seem quite right, even though you know this is the true version.

[arcade-confetti]

Being someone who read Under The Red Hood and came out with the firm belief that, for Jason, it's not about killing Joker, it's about Jason wanting proof Batman would choose him over the Joker (bc shelia chose the joker). Makes seeing any other media where it's all about just wanting the Joker dead is a teeny bit frustrating. to be honest

Jason could've killed the Joker himself, really, really easily. Jason kidnaps the Joker before the confrontation. I can't open my comic for a reference right now, but it felt like he had the Joker for quite a bit before the confrontation. He had him. He beat him up with a crowbar. He had every single opportunity to kill the Joker himself, but he didn't because that wasn't his goal. Make no mistake, he did plan for the Joker to be dead by the end of it, but do you see what im trying to say here

Edit: If I knew this post was gonna get 1000+ notes I would've tried to word it better or something, this was a rant I made on the way to the grocery store 😭

It's not about making Batman kill either. When Batman says he won't kill, Jason adjusts and goes, 'Let ME kill the Joker or kill me to stop me' instead. The test is all about Batman choosing him. The whole final confrontation is Jason's first death again. The parent, The Joker, and the explosives. It even ends with Jason unable to move as a bomb goes off right next to him again because the parent didn't choose Jason. And instead tried finding an option that'd benefit them and (consequencely) letting the Joker walk, again, lol, lmao <-in agony

[tonyjwash]

A Stolen Life...

All of us reading this have been given a fantastic opportunity to enjoy our lives. We really only have one opportunity on this beautiful planet called Earth with which to thrive or survive. And while all of us likely want to thrive, sadly many will not. It’s not that the people surviving this experience of life want that for themselves. But rather, the life that has been given to them has been…

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

A Most Mousterious Mind.

[antianakin]

I'm kind-of genuinely devastated that they decided to cut out the reveal of Perrin having known all along about Mon Mothma's rebel activities and was getting interrogated WEEKLY by the Empire and never cracked even once.

This would've helped answer SO MANY QUESTIONS about Mon and Perrin, and it could've easily helped answer the question of why Mon felt like she could just walk away from her family after making herself public enemy number one.

She goes to finally explain it all to Perrin right before she makes the speech because dammit she might not have trust him or even like him all that much but she doesn't want him DEAD and he deserves the chance to find this out from her and get himself to safety before she turns his life upside down, and he tells her he's known all along and covered for her this whole time and never once cracked or been discovered, even when she framed him for gambling and sold off their daughter to a gangster's son. He lets her know that he doesn't need to go to safety, he's not just going to run now because that'll just make him look like he was involved in it. He can continue to cover for himself when the Empire comes to interrogate him again, and he can do it well enough to ensure Leida doesn't get implicated, either. Mon's priority is the rebellion, her priority is her work and it always has been, even to the detriment of her relationship with her family, and Perrin understood that but it meant that HIS priority had to be protecting and taking care of Leida in the absence of her mother. So Mon has to go, but Perrin has to stay because their daughter needs him now more than ever.

And it just makes the choice that Mon has made so clear, the sacrifice she chose to make for the sake of the rebellion, and she can't back out now, she can't make a different choice because she tells herself she's doing this FOR Leida, to try to make a better world for her daughter to live in, but in order to give Leida that world, she has to leave Leida behind.

But she realizes now that she CAN trust Perrin, she could've trusted him all along, so she chooses to trust him now. She trusts him with their daughter, she trusts that he can take care of himself and Leida in her absence once more.

This helps Mon's arc SO MUCH, and I honestly love it, and as Bissell says it's technically a non-canon thing now because it clearly never even made it into the script really let alone got filmed, but it's pretty easy to slot it into what we DID get to see, so as far as I'm concerned, this is my canon. This fixes so many of the problems I had with the end of this arc for Mon and makes it so much more emotional and almost tragic. Mon made her choices and you can argue that some of them were mistakes if you want, you can argue that it made her a bad mother if you wanted to, but it's so much more complicated and nuanced than that, and I love that this finally makes that so clear. Mon made her choice and her family paid the price a long time ago, long before Mon was willing to acknowledge that she'd made that choice.

[solarmorrigan]

oooh. fic requests! how about 6 - fight or 19 - allergies for steddie?

Hello! I'm sorry it took so long to get to this one, but I hope it's alright! I went with:

6. Fight - Steddie

cw: implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced domestic violence, unhealthy relationship dynamics (not between Eddie and Steve)

-

The most frustrating thing about fighting with Steve is that he doesn’t fight. Not really.

Sure, he’ll poke and he’ll prod and he’ll snip and he’ll snap; he’ll dole out bitchy, passive aggressive comments and roll his eyes and sigh pointedly, but the moment things get heated, the moment an argument gets real, it’s just–

“Fine. Fine,” Steve snaps, tossing his hands up with an exasperated huff. “You’re right, okay? I’m– I’m sorry.”

And at first, Eddie had always felt so vindicated, so flush with the triumph of winning an argument, that it had taken him a while to realize that it felt– wrong. That Steve—so confident, so sure in his opinions, so willing to stand up to people when he has something to defend—would just give in without a fight– it feels wrong.

So Eddie had tried to pay attention – really pay attention. They don’t fight often, but when an argument inevitably does crop up, Eddie always wins. Rather, Steve always lets him. He never raises his voice, never gets in Eddie’s face, never really even makes counterarguments. He cedes to Eddie’s points and then subsides and it’s– it’s infuriating, because Eddie doesn’t understand.

“Don’t do that,” Eddie growls, tugging a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Don’t– what? Don’t apologize?” Steve asks incredulously.

“No!” Eddie bursts out. “Not if you don’t mean it!”

“Excuse me?” Steve draws back, offended. “What the hell do you want me to do to prove I’m sincere? Get on my knees and fucking grovel?”

“That’s not–” Eddie leaves off with a frustrated noise, trying hard to keep his tone level. “I don’t want to win an argument just because you let me. I don’t want you to apologize just because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

“I’m not letting you win,” Steve says quickly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You are, though. You do. Every time. You won’t actually engage, you just say I’m right and then clam up and that’s it,” Eddie says.

Steve levels him with a look of disbelief. “So– what, you want me to yell at you? You want me to tell you that you’re wrong?”

“I want–” Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a second to gather his thoughts. “I want you to feel like you’re allowed to argue with me. I don’t want you to just give in and then resent me or something.”

“I don’t resent you, Eddie,” Steve says with a roll of his eyes.

“No?” Eddie pushes. “How many times have we gone to bed after an argument with me perfectly satisfied, thinking I’ve won, while you’re actually still mad at me?”

“That’s– I don’t…” Steve shifts uncomfortably. “If I’m still mad, that’s my problem. I can just get over it.”

“But that’s exactly what I mean!” Eddie insists. “That shit builds up! And besides, what if you’re the one who’s really right? I might actually be wrong, and you should tell me. Or maybe there’s some kind of, like, compromise we can reach, I don’t know! I don’t want you to be afraid to push back – I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Steve says, jaw jutting out stubbornly when Eddie fixes him with a considering look. “I’m not. I’m just– how long before yelling turns into a screaming match? How long before it turns into throwing shit around, or– or shoving each other, or worse?”

“Steve…” Eddie murmurs, the last of his heated frustration draining away, leaving a clammy kind of dismay in its place. “Steve, I would never do any of those things to you.”

“I know,” Steve says, and it sounds like he means it. “I know that. But what if I–”

“No,” Eddie says firmly, because he thinks he understands now – Steve isn’t afraid of him, he’s afraid of himself. Afraid of turning into everything he’d been raised around: the blowout arguments between his parents, his mom’s petty destruction of his dad’s things, his dad’s frustration turned back on Steve, a cycle of violent familial bullshit that Steve is determined to break free from, even if it means saying that he’s wrong every time. Eddie comes forward, grabbing Steve’s hands; he can’t even remember what they’d been arguing about moments before, but he knows he doesn’t care anymore. “You would never do that. I know you, Steve, you are nothing like that.”

Steve looks down at their joined hands, blinking rapidly. “This– you… You’re more important than winning. Than any stupid argument,” he says.

“That’s exactly why we should have stupid arguments,” Eddie says, grinning a little when that gets a choked laugh out of Steve. “I’m serious. Let’s have stupid, petty arguments so they don’t turn into big ones. I swear I’m not going to stay mad if you get on my ass about not doing the dishes.”

Slowly, Steve nods. He doesn’t entirely look like he believes Eddie, but that’s fine. It’s always been like this – Steve unwilling (or unable) to believe that someone will love him if he doesn’t make it easy for them. Eddie’s been breaking that down, bit by bit, and this is no different. This is no chore.

“I’ll still love you even when I’m angry. Even when you’re angry,” Eddie promises. “I just love you, full stop.”

Steve nods again, more certain this time as he looks up to meet Eddie’s eyes. “I love you, too,” he says, because he always, always says it back, which suits Eddie just fine.

He figures if they can agree on that much, every other disagreement will be a breeze.

[follows-the-bees]

I've spoken before that Frenchie and Ed have similar coping mechanisms with the animals they fear: cats and spiders.

How Ed is scared of spiders and puts tattoos of them on his body as a way to try and confront and overcome his fear. But he also puts on black gloves covering them up; not always confronting, instead compartmentalizing.

I want to focus on Frenchie's fears, reactions, and growth.

As early as the pilot, Frenchie talks about his fear of cats. We hear at least two different myths about them, and just like how Ed tattooed spiders on his hands, Frenchie decides to make a flag with a cat on it during arts and crafts time.

This is the first step of Frenchie confronting his fear. That flag, with all the others created by the crew, is placed on the flagstaff a tribute to all of them, something that hangs with honor. Just like Ed can cover the tattoos with gloves, Frenchie doesn't have to directly look at the flag at all times.

Next, we see in episode six that Frenchie takes his fears further and becomes a witch, with Wee John as his cat (my favorite room people!) This is a nod to Frenchie's comment made earlier (and the overall folklore of witches and black cats, bad luck) about cats being witches.

I love that when the crew was deciding what would be scary for the Dutch ship, besides going full play, Frenchie once again decided on cats (and witches.)

In season two, Frenchie continues with embracing cats in all decorum.

Just like in the play, Frenchie becomes a cat during the Kraken era, putting it on the back of his jacket and making claws his weapon of choice. Knives in their hands!

He becomes the thing he fears to strike fear in other people. It is still putting up a facade in many ways, putting on this costume to get through pirate life — just like Ed puts on the facade of the Kraken to get through this exact same phrase. For both Ed and Frenchie, this is a part of them, but it isn't all of them.

Yet Frenchie also talks about how he locks his trauma away in a box in his head. Bottle it up. Frenchie contains multitudes, from embracing what he fears to trying to shove it in a box.

The one thing I love about the portrayal of trauma in this show is how each person handles it differently. How both Ed and Frenchie both use fear as both a coping mechanism and to instill fear in others. They are brave.

We see Ed by the end of season two grow and accept all sides of himself: the kraken, Blackbeard, Ed. Frenchie is on this same path with spiders, while I don't know if the show would have gone quite the same way with him as Ed, we do see growth, particularly with Frenchie becoming captain.

When the whole crew is reunited, working on getting the Revenge back to a better state — just like they are emotionally doing — Frenchie gets to gleefully choose the flag of the ship again. The cat that was on the back of his jacket is now the flag design, once again the thing Frenchie fears is the matra, striking fear in the heart of others. But this time, we only see one flag: the cat with red eyes and sharp claws.

Flags, or ensign, on a ship are important. They often symbolized, especially during the time of this show, a ship's nationality and therefore legal jurisdiction. Pirates didn't have to worry about that, instead they had freedom in their flag choice. Choosing a cat as their symbol, to let others know they are pirates to be feared, is a choice. And Frenchie's growth over the course of the show, embracing his fear is wonderful to watch. Captain Frenchie indeed!

[hatsunevita]

if we were gonna get a Deku vs Kacchan pt. 3 with an actual fight to help them solve their issues and understand each other, imagine how funny it’d be from aizawa’s perspective? he’s like “phew yes it’s been a difficult year but at least the two problem children finally get along, i’m so glad they’ve worked everything ouWDYM THEYRE FIGHTING AGAIN.”

[akemiiya]

i need to see post canon siffrin and isabeau rushing into a relationship and both of them trying so hard to make each other happy that it comes at the expense of themselves and their relationship in the long run. i need to see them make each other worse. i need my little barbie dolls to crash and burn <3

[zepskies]

Talk to Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Ben had a vivid nightmare last night. You know how he is about his “man feelings.” But you try to get him to open up anyway, before you both lose your tempers.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @deans-spinster-witch. It's set in the Break Me Down-verse and is a sequel to the SB imagine below:

See this imagine for context: Ben loses you.

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Imagine: You confront Ben about his fears.

“What the fuck is wrong with this cocksucking coffee maker?” Ben snarked.

He bumped the top of it with his hand, so hard you thought he was going to break it.

Your brows furrowed as you shot him a look. It was too early for all that.

“Nothing?” you said. “Worked just fine for me.”

He sported an even grumpier face as the coffee finally poured into his mug.

Something’s wrong, you thought.

Ben was usually quiet in the morning. Relaxed and slow until he’d had his coffee and started his routine, with his newspaper at his favorite lounge chair, then breakfast in the kitchen with you.

You were making pancakes on a griddle, but you were also watching your boyfriend. He wasn’t just quiet. He was downright grouchy and taciturn.

What crawled up his ass? you thought. Though you had your suspicions...

“Breakfast is done,” you called to him.

He eventually joined you, sitting down at the breakfast bar. You served him a mildly enormous stack, and just two pancakes for yourself. In most respects, Ben was still a bottomless pit.

However, after eating the first couple of pancakes in silence, he pushed away from his plate and leaned back in his seat. You held your coffee mug between both hands and eyed him.

“You okay, baby?” you asked, repeating the very words you’d asked him last night.

He glanced at you through surly brows. “Yeah. You can stop asking me that.”

Right, you thought. He’d been twitching in his sleep, muttering, making sounds that had worried you enough to wake him with a gentle hand on his dewy arm. His response had worried you too—that haze of disoriented shock, followed by relief when he recognized your face.

You’d comforted him the best you could after his nightmare, but he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. You knew he wouldn’t now, either. That didn’t stop you from trying.

You set down your mug and soothed a hand up his arm, until your fingers disappeared under his shirt sleeve.

“What’s got you all sunshine and rainbows then, Mr. Grouch?” you lightly teased. “I even made you pancakes. Still waiting on my thank you.”

Ben didn’t want to answer, though he briefly glanced at you. He slurped at his coffee.

You sighed. A tick of annoyance at your brow.

“Okay," you said. "Well, since we had breakfast here, I figured we could go out for lunch later when we get to the city. There’s this amazing deli I could take you to—”

“We’re not going,” Ben said.

You blinked in surprise. Your hand fell away from his shoulder. “What?”

“I’ve got things to do,” he said. And without looking at you, he grabbed his half-full plate and got up to bring it over by the sink. He speared a few pancakes back onto the plate you’d served them up in before dumping his plate into the sink.

At least he was learning something about living with you. Now, if he really wanted to impress you, he'd wash that damn dish.

But for now, you wanted answers more than you wanted clean plates. You slowly got up out of your chair and went to him. You tried your best not to be accusatory when you asked your next questions.

“What do you mean? What do you have to do?”

He didn’t seem to want to answer you. Or maybe, he didn’t have a good answer, because he was fucking lying.

You laid a hand on his arm. “Ben. I need you to talk to me right now, because this is our first day off together in weeks. You know this was supposed to be our day. So you’d better have a damn good reason.”

He frowned angrily down at you. “We’re not going because I fucking said so. That’s all you need to know.”

You glared back at him, standing your ground.

You raised a brow. “That’s not good enough with me, and you know it. But if that’s how you’re going to be about it, I’ll call Annie and make it a girls’ day.”

You turned on your heel to walk away, but an iron hand grabbed your wrist. Holding back a wince, you frowned at Ben over your shoulder. His face was tight with irritation.

“You’re not going any-damn-where,” he snapped.

“You better let me go, right now,” your temper snapped right back.

This man was protective, but he had never been this bad. Not even after you got out of the hospital after Vought Tower collapsed. Granted, you’d been fully healed. He’d never outright tried to forbid you from leaving the house though.  

“What the hell is your problem?” you said.

He didn’t want to let you go, but after a beat, he released you. His frown deepened when you had to rub the ache out of your wrist.

He hadn’t meant to grip you that hard. Part of him relented…but then it firmed back up, when he remembered last night. The images were still filtering through his mind on a loop.

The alley, the blood slipping through his fingers, your pale, cold cheek, and lifeless eyes staring up at him.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” he said gruffly.

You tilted your head at him. Your face was tight and angry now, but you still followed him into the living room. You sat down together on the couch, and with crossed arms, you waited for him to speak.

His elbow rested on his knee while his hand swept over his mouth and beard. Then his gaze slid over to yours.

“You need to take Compound V,” he said.

To say that shocked you was an understatement. Your eyes widened, and your body went rigid.

“Excuse me?” you said lowly.

“There’s no way around it,” he said. Grit was laced in his voice, but you didn’t care.

“I’ve made myself very clear—”

“And you also said we’d revisit this little chat, so here we are,” Ben retorted. “You need to live in fucking reality. I can’t be with you 24/7. I don’t trust those CIA fucks to wipe their own ass, let alone keep an eye on you. Especially when I’m in the field.”

You just managed to lasso in your temper when you finally realized where this was coming from. You inhaled a couple of calming breaths. Your fingers tapped your knees. You sat up straighter before you turned to him more fully.

Your hand reached out to cover his on his thigh.

“Ben,” you started. Soft and even. “What did you dream last night?”

His face tightened further, his lips pressed into a line. It took him a moment, but eventually he answered.

“Nothing. Doesn’t fucking matter.”

“We both know that it does,” you chided.

When he just maintained his stoic façade, you slid closer to him on the couch. You curled a hand around his bicep and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

You looked up at him.

He didn’t want to break.

You just waited until the green of his eyes met yours.

“Hey. It’s just me,” you said softly. “Talk to me.”

His brows knit together, slightly. His jaw clenched and twitched under his skin.

“I lost you,” he said.

Admitting to that was like admitting that his uniform was a lie; that he had no fear. That he was invulnerable. That he was a god in human form.

But you had become the last human part of him. To lose that would be to lose everything again, worse than 1984.

Somehow, you’d become his reason…for most things. He didn’t think you realized it, nor would he allow himself to tell you.

His eyes closed when you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You let your fingers sift through his hair, brushing it back and away from his forehead.

“Do you know why I want to stay normal?” you asked. "Albeit fragile and breakable."

He didn’t answer, but his eyes silently asked for one.

“Because I want to stay myself,” you said. “Power corrupts, and there’s a big chance I wouldn’t be the woman you loved anymore if I injected that shit into my veins.”

Ben frowned. He hadn’t considered that…but he still felt it was a price worth paying.

You moved off the couch and into his lap. He welcomed you with an arm curling around your waist and another moving up your thigh.

Your arms twined around his neck, and you kissed him properly, nice and slow. He tasted like coffee and maple syrup. His hair was soft between your curling fingers.

You parted from him after a while, just to press another comforting kiss to his temple.

“I know what I’m asking of you, and I’m sorry,” you whispered against his skin. “But we’ll figure something else out.”

“How?” he scoffed, his brows furrowing again. “In a few decades—”

“I thought you didn’t mind a few wrinkles,” you teased.

A smirk flickered across his lips. “You know what the fuck I mean.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But we have time. I promise, we’ll figure this out.”

Ben didn’t totally believe you. There was going to come a time where you were going to have to make a choice: between him and your principles.

It wasn’t fair, but that was the reality. Life wasn’t fucking fair.

Until then, maybe he could make one concession.

“If you want…” he said. You leaned back enough to see his face.

He met your gaze. “We can go to dinner later. In the city.”

A slow smile spread across your face.

“But we’re getting a private room,” he warned, squeezing your hips. “And we’re driving there and back. That’s it.”

Your smile warmed further, and kissed the corner of his mouth. You were sure you could convince him to go a Broadway show afterwards, if you plied him in a few key ways...

“I like the idea of a private room,” you said.

His fingers crept up your pajama pants, drifting down between your thighs. His thumb started to stroke warmth through your panties. It had you smiling, sighing, subtly pressing into his hand.

His smirk deepened.

“You do, don’t you?” he said.

You let out a breathy laugh at the change in him. It didn’t take much to get him worked up. So you hugged him close and spoke into his ear all the things you had planned for him tonight.

Before, and after dinner.

AN: Lol I love writing this lovable asshole. 💚 Especially in the BMD-verse.

I have more Dean imagines coming soon! Including a requested sequel to "You are Dean's one exception," in which Sam "crosses the line"... 🫣

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

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@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

[waning-and-waxing]

me, seeing the differences in chapter 12 routes when you choose either to face kham directly or go to the peri trader in disguise:

[specialagentartemis]

I wish Sam and Tucker got to be characters more often. Thinking about how they also have a significant part of their lives they have to hide from their parents because they're also out ghost hunting with Danny all the time. And they have the capacity to walk away from it in a way that Danny doesn't. But they don't. This has got to be a strain on them too, this upended their lives too, and they don't even have any ghost powers to deal with it.

Sam already isn't on good terms with her parents; she could probably tell them upfront exactly how much time she spends hunting ghosts and if she said it in a bitter and sarcastic tone of voice they would probably just frown at her and tsk for her being so morbid and dramatic. I can't imagine she's the kind of kid who talks honestly to her parents about anything anyway. We barely ever see Tucker's parents but the few times we do they seem generically nice and normal. Do they worry about him, suddenly out all the time and coming home harried and beat up and found at the scene of rampant property destruction? Is he lying to them for the first time in his life? Does Danny ever ask them about this or is he too wrapped up in his own Family Angst?

[fusionsprunt]

me when my meteor-powered robot gf attempts to murder me 😳😳

[teapot-of-tyrahn]

“i think when we’re red … we can have fun again!”

gem doesn’t love pearl. she loves red pearl.

she loves pearl when she’s not herself. when her mind is clouded by a red fog and a desperation for blood. when she’s at her lowest. she loves what they are when they both have nothing to lose.

she can only love her when neither of them are them.

“as much as she would love to, it’s too early for red pearl. okay? she can stay where she is.”

pearl has never considered red pearl to be her. red pearl is another person - red pearl is who she doesn't want to be. red pearl is what she has to become to survive.

gem loves pearl. she does!

just not the one who's healed. not the one who's happy. she loves the one that's hurt. the one that hurts. the one she can hurt people with.