#^ that's the level of emotion response to stupid shit in my inbox

[cybertron-after-dark]

I was gonna ask a question but i honestly forgot it 😅 so just tell me something you want to rant about

If you do happen to remember what you were gonna ask feel free to do so, do not worry about spamming my inbox bc I live for that shit.

As for the rant

Transformers Rescue Bots had some of the best, kindest, and most respectful representation of neurodivergence I have ever seen in media and I'm tired of pretending it didn't.

While there are obvious complaints to be made about neurodivergent traits (especially autistic traits) usually being portrayed in media by inhuman characters like aliens or robots, this being a case of both, I feel like thats a pretty negligible sin given just how human the show makes the robots feel. (Also it was like 2011 and we were STRUGGLING for any scraps of rep anyway)

But like. The behaviors all these robots exhibit are all shit that I do that was always deemed unacceptable when I was a kid and seeing it portrayed with the level of kindness and gentleness they do in that show has me fuckin crying a little man. I wish I had actually watched it when I was younger and it was first airing because maybe if I did I would've had an easier time explaining what the hell was going on with my brain a LOT sooner.

Blades being anxious, overly sensitive, and WHOLEHEARTEDLY queer (which they had the absolute unparalleled balls to just casually confirm by having him swoon over "hunky vampires" in one episode and NOBODY commented on it. Fucking iconic) and getting so so deeply invested in the shows and movies he loves that he acts out the roles with enough passion to steel his nerves and completely flourish.

Boulder getting really confused at concepts that are basic and intuitive for most people, but still being so fucking intelligent, and never being made to feel stupid for the mix-ups, as well as just being so wholely, unabashedly in love with the planet he's found himself on, even if he doesn't understand all of it (Also apologizing to inanimate objects when he knocks them over 😭)

Chase being obsessed with rules and law because he NEEDS the structure to not fall apart at the seams, even feeling the need to fabricate a minor crime to justify using the emergency line to get a hold of the firehouse when he can't find the other bots. As well as just fully not understanding comedy (BUT TRYING HIS DAMNEDEST), taking things super literally, and having a lot of trouble with tone and expressions (even though you know just how deeply he feels All The Time).

Heatwave being desperate for attention and recognition, but completely allergic to asking for it. And honestly allergic to showing any genuine emotional responses other than aggression. The constant sarcasm and sass and defensiveness that he POORLY maintains because everyone knows that underneath that tough guy front is the loneliest robot on earth that wants to be loved SO bad but would rather jump into unicron's mouth than voice it because if he lets his guard down who knows what will happen to him or the people he cares about.

Just. All of it man. Seeing them exhibiting all these behaviors and quirks that all too often get met with poor reactions from people who don't want to deal with what they don't really get, but here they're met with patience and understanding?? It's got me fucked up. They get to be functional adults that struggle with what they have going on but still push through. They get to have unconditionally loving relationships with people that treat them with respect. And that's the kind of shit that gives me a lot of hope for folks like me because maybe some neurotypical kids that watched it picked up on what's helpful when their friend who acts like one of the bots is going through it. And maybe some neurodivergent kids watched it too and for the first time they just felt SEEN.

Okay rant over, I'm gonna go cry over some plastic robots 👍

[blackbackedjackal]

there's only enough room for one clown in this circus, and that's me [honk honk]

[liesoverthec]

Hi B! Hope you're doing great! Do you have a theory why Eddie didn't tell Buck about the will sooner? Do you think he was waiting for "the right moment"?

Personally, I think, he was scared to put to much pressure on him. But then Buck said the things he said in the hospital and Eddie was like "you know what, I gotta put a stop to this".

Much love xx

Hi Sam! 💛 I'm going through a couple of major life changes right now which are just, eating up all of my time and none of it is bad, but it’s why I’m so late getting back to you on this (although pls do not let it stop you from coming in my inbox! I love chatting w you and anyone else I just might have really slow response times for a couple weeks!) how are you???

Okay so I tend to start coming at this from a set/details/cast point of view and my thoughts on it are - Eddie is just. SO MUCH FUCKING SOFTER in s4 around Buck. Like he's always been heart eyes McGee, but the depth and the level of love he has for Buck is just astoundingly deeper. I could pull so many receipts on myself where around 4x04 I’m just?? baffled at how much softer Eddie is and I have no idea why (JOKES ON ME, P SURE IT WAS THIS). So I think the writing room told R.G. that something was going on with Eddie. I don't think the reason Eddie held off was bc the writers themselves didn't know. I'm not entirely sure if they knew it was a WILL that changed things, but I think they made an active choice to change Eddie's actions towards Buck to be more romantic, and softer, bc they knew Eddie was going to hold onto something big with Buck, which culminated in the guardianship-in-case-of-tragedy reveal end of s4, when they thought it would fit best for BOTH Eddie and Buck.

And then emotionally, I DO agree with you on that Eddie didn't want to put that pressure on Buck. I think it started bc basically as soon as Eddie has a chance to decide he’s going to do this legal mumbo jumbo guardianship change, Buck starts freaking out about Red. And Eddie, I think, was simultaneously like, ‘okay I know Buck CAN turn this down but he won’t, and he’s dealing w a lot right now so I’m not going to add this on’ and also ‘I’m going to wait to tell him til it’s final, so that he knows I’m not going to back out of this, it’s a done deal’, and probably also ‘I’ve never been this emotionally intimate with another person literally in my entire life, I have to give myself a chance to build up to it’.

And then before it’s done, they meet Abby again. And Eddie is NOT the sort of person to be explicitly personal at work - he’ll talk around his personal issues, eg talking to Brian during Jinx, but he doesn’t really come right out and pull a Chim or Buck and tell people all about his life. So he’s not about to open up in front of SAM of all people and tell Buck why he can’t risk his life recklessly like that.

But then after that, Buck settles into this period where he actually ISN’T being risky. He explicitly tells Bobby he’s okay now, and it’s absolutely reasonable of Eddie to assume he got closure and he wasn’t looking for validation through danger any more. Hell, Buck even gets a therapist! (Which side note - we never see Buck tell ANYONE Dr Copeland’s name, not even Chim and Maddie when he talks about it, but Eddie knows it in 4x04! So I like to think that while they were quarantining together, Buck told Eddie he was going to see a therapist, and that’s why EDDIE never teases him about his “lady friend” on screen okay side rant done lolllllllllll) So I think at this point, to Eddie, it’s awkward to say anything NOW it’s been so long, and besides he himself isn’t going die anytime soon it’s not a big deal right? (WRONG EDMUNDO).

And of course, Buck does risk his life in Buck Begins/factory fire, but it was really only dangerous bc HE didn’t know where he was, and he couldn’t get them out. It wasn’t as scary I think, to the rest of the 118, bc they could go get him - they had time to do that, so I don’t think Eddie really thought of that as Buck risking his life so like, he can keep this to himself still right? (Um sure I guess but like - EDDIE MY MAN!!!)

And then after that Buck still isn’t risking his life, and nothing crazy has been happening w the 118 - I think if the bomber had been the s4 plot, then I think Eddie would have told him earlier, bc Eddie would have KNOWN that someone was killing people at random in the city, but no one had any idea the sniper was a thing, so Eddie just kept going, keeping it a secret.

Because at this point, I think Eddie has at least a small inkling of his feelings for Buck. Giving your best friend your KID is a really big deal, and I’ve seen several posts talking about the fact that it’s basically a love confession. For anyone else sure it might just be a matter of paperwork, but for EDDIE - that was him giving his heart to Buck. And I think he just wasn’t ready to have that conversation with anyone, esp given the fact that he has the safety net of KNOWING Buck won’t give Christopher up. If Eddie died, and Buck found out that way, it would be awful for Buck - but it wouldn’t be something that could make Buck give Christopher up, so Eddie *technically* didn’t even have to tell Buck.

So TLDR - I think it started as Eddie not wanting to pressure Buck before it was official, ESP since he was panicking about his place in his family’s lives. But then I think it changed into ��well he’s being safe, I’m not in danger, oh shit this is a Big Deal™ actually, I’ll tell him when I’m ready’ and the sniper ending up forcing Eddie to be ready - both bc Eddie almost died AND bc Buck was acting stupid again.)

Sorry if that was like, 10x more word vomit than you wanted - I just think this show is fantastic at giving characters complex emotional journeys and reasonings without having to be explicit about it, and I can’t just sum that in one paragraph I guess 😂

Lots of love to you Sam!!!!

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

[tailorvizsla]

You didn't think I wouldn't ask for some Boba Fett though now did you? (Of course not, he is the new shiny for me iuwhei) ✨ HC Of my Choice... What about having your first kiss with Boba and he doesn't #know it is your first one till part-way through or after? Am I projecting? Yes, yes I am.

Title: HC – Boba Fett and First Kiss Pairing: Gender neutral Reader x Boba Fett Word Count: ~1700 Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Boba Fett is a grumpy bastard, but you hold your own against him. Boba also gets injured, but there aren’t any graphic descriptions of the injuries. Author’s Notes: Okay, my Angle, I’ve been thinking about this one for as long as it’s been sitting in my inbox. I’m not familiar with Boba Fett’s character, so I wanted to make sure this was good for you. So, without further ado, here we go with the Big Green Grumpy Jerk who has somehow inexplicably charmed his way into my heart with a few gruff comments.

Tagging @princessbatears because chaos? :>

📚 My Master List 📚

Boba Fett isn’t a man of many words. It’s not that he’s shy or anything – he just doesn’t like talking to people beyond what is necessary. He has worked alone his entire life, so the sound of others’ voices just sort of grates on him. He especially does not like being crowded by people.

So, one day, while doing his thing, he ends up injured. It’s not even due to combat. His jetpack just…sputters out. His beskar’gam turns what should have been a fatal fall into a very painful one. He knows he has broken a lot of bones, but Boba refuses to die like this. He crawls his way back to his bike, calls for medical aid, and prays to the Maker that someone in town will come help him.

You are the only person who does come to help him. Most other people are too afraid of the Imperial remnants to work with a Mandalorian. Others are too afraid of Mandalorians to work with a Mandalorian. You? You are not afraid of much. He is not sure if you are brave or stupid. After splinting the worst of the damage, you get him onto the bike and get him back into town. It is at this point that Boba finds himself leaning toward thinking you are stupidly caring and trusting.

You inject him with bacta – the good kind that makes him giggly, sleepy, and numb – and get to work. When he wakes up, he’s wrapped in an annoying number of casts and splints, but at least he’s still alive. However, you then give him the bad news: the fall has damaged many of the delicate nerves in his back. If he fails to undergo physical therapy, there is a real chance he may never walk again. He’s no medical expert, but when he looks at the scans you took, he knows you aren’t lying.

So, Boba resigns himself to having to deal with you on a regular basis. The first physical therapy exercises are simple, yet they exhaust him to the point where he just passes out. As the days go by, he starts putting up the walls to keep you out. (Spoiler alert: you manage to find your way through the cracks in the wall, annoying him with barely any effort on your behalf.)

Now, under ideal circumstances, this shitshow would end with Boba Fett getting back on his feet, paying you handsomely for the amount of time you have spent getting him put together, and going back to bounty hunting, never to think of you again. But of course, the universe throws an even bigger wrench into his carefully thought-out plans. Someone finds out that you’re taking care of him and a whole bunch of angry townspeople converge on your little clinic. He grabs you and the two of you run. The last thing you see is your clinic going up in flames. (Boba can’t believe the shortsightedness of these people – they’ve driven off their only competent medical professional. What are they going to do next? Kill their only competent mechanic? Di’kute, every last one of them.)

And so, the two of you go off on a merry adventure, annoying the absolute shit out of each other on a regular basis. Boba especially is concerned at how easily you have managed to find every single weak point in his defenses – physical, mental, and emotional. You are a fair shot with your blaster, so when he got fresh with you that one time, telling you that your ass looked downright edible in the trousers you had borrowed from him, you drew your blaster and fired a shot off at his feet. He laughed so hard his bucket nearly fell off. (You are not sure if you are disturbed that he finds being shot at amusing. He does scold you a bit, but you do notice that he does not talk about your ass anymore.)

With your knife? You’re lethal, and he learns that the hard way when he fails to announce his presence behind you. One moment Boba is reaching to touch your shoulder and the next moment, he’s got your elbow in his face and your penknife embedded in his flak vest. Fortunately, the blade’s too short to cause serious damage, but he does not let you forget that you kriffing stabbed him when he was only trying to ask you what you wanted for dinner.

Even though Boba would rather cover himself in tiingilar sauce and crawl back into the sarlacc pit headfirst than ever admit it, the two of you make a damn good team. He goes off to hunt bounties, you stay in town to provide your medical services for a fair fee. Sometimes, when your services are not needed, you’ll hang back at the ship and do some basic accounting to keep him within his budget.

Boba grumbles when you ask to accompany him on a hunt, but he figures you really do need to learn how to defend yourself if anything should happen to him. When the two of you were surrounded by goons, you naturally fell into place behind him, your back to his, covering his shebs while he provides the heavy firepower. When the numbers are thinned to something more manageable, he sets you loose on them, letting you practice your knife skills. And by the Maker, he is impressed with how much you have improved since the last time you stabbed him.

Between hunts, you get his shebs back into fighting shape. Hell, he thinks he’s even better than he was before. The exercises you insist on forcing on him have made him more flexible than he was before, and his bones no longer creak first thing in the morning. One particularly hot, muggy day, you try to make him drink that vile green vegetable concoction you call a smoothie. Smooth his shebs, there are chunks in that liquefied animal feed. Sometimes he wonders if you’re trying to kill him on purpose.

(You don’t know this, but Boba has already arranged for everything in his possession, ships and banking accounts included, to be transferred to you in the event of his death. Hell, he has even started negotiating with a friendly Tribe to make sure you have a home to go to and your pick of their warriors for marriage, should you be interested. Boba justifies it this way: the last time his jetpack mutinied, he ended up several hundred thousand credits in debt to you by his estimation. By ensuring you have a safe place to go, and a family ready to welcome you, he can offset the immeasurable debt he owes you. It hurts to think of this, but Boba genuinely cannot bear the thought of you being alone in this cruel galaxy, the same way he had been when he was a child. So, if he ever does piss you off to the point where you off him in his sleep, you’ll be fine.)

You keep pushing and pushing, insisting that he needs B-vitamins or some other bantha-shit he’s sure you’ve made up for the sole purpose of annoying him. When you start going on about macronutrients and essential vitamins, Boba loses it. He tosses his cutlery down and goes stomping off toward the cockpit. You follow him, blathering on and on about the last blood panel you had pulled – HDLs, LDLs, and a whole slew of acronyms later, he loses it. Rather than snap at you, he shuts you up the only way his poor sleep-deprived brain can come up with.

Boba pushes you up against the wall, gently to avoid hurting you. You don’t seem at all phased. In fact, you start waving the paper at him as you try to draw his attention to his sodium levels. Boba leans in and presses his lips to yours. You finally stop talking, your entire body going stiff in response. He takes a moment to nibble along your lower lip before parting your lips with his, tongue probing a bit deeper in, and you still aren’t responding. Boba draws back and stares down at you. You’re wide-eyed and clearly in shock.

He leans in again. This time you respond clumsily, your hands clutching at that stupid piece of paper. He gently wrestles it out of your grasp and crumples it up. Then he tosses it over his shoulder, not caring where it lands. He cups the back of your head and deepens the kiss. Still, you’re not responding the way he wants, so he draws back.

“What, never been kissed before?” he asks.

Before he can say anything else, he realizes that that was your first kiss. While Boba has never wanted to be anyone’s First Anything, he realizes that he wants to make an exception for you. There’s no one in this entire galaxy who can annoy the shit out of him in one breath and then worry about his health in the next. You are his little baar’ur. After you have wormed your way under his plating and so selfishly made yourself a fixture in his life without his permission? Oh, no, no, you are not going anywhere.

He cuts off your stammering with another kiss. He takes this one slow, moving your hands to where he wants you to touch him – one at his nape, the other at the small of his back, right over that spot that makes his knees weak.

This time, you respond. Slowly, hesitantly, but as you grow more confident, your hands begin to stray. You worm your fingers up the back of his shirt and dig your nails into the sensitive skin there, making him gasp in pleasure. Then you dig your fingers into his long hair and tug lightly, earning a low growl from him. You freeze and stare up at him with wide eyes until he leans back in.

Fortunately, your big smart science brain learns his likes and dislikes very quickly. When he finally pulls away, he finds that he really likes what he sees – your shirt’s rumpled, your hair is sticking up, and your lips are red and swollen from his kisses. Then and there, he makes a vow to make sure you always look like a mess.

(Spoiler alert: quite a few more of your firsts happen right here in the cockpit.)

[ghoulciifer]

hewoo🥺can you write hcs on tendou and iwaizumi comforting their s/o who is sad because of their bad relationship with their father,like not in any abusive way but their dad is distant and emotionally unavailable:/

HC: Tendou and Iwaizumi helping an S/O with an emotionally unavailable father.

TW: Parental Neglect/Distancing, idk how to properly identify this trigger but I will be writing about some potentially heavy stuff in regards to parental instability so be wary of that if you wish to proceed.

TAGS: Emotional unavailability, hurt/comfort, angst

NOTES: Hi anon, thank you for requesting this, bby! This ask hit super close to home so I felt very confident that it was something I could write. While I might not have had these sweet boys to help me through my time, I hope these headcanons bring some sort of comfort to anyone dealing with this situation. And anon, if you yourself are dealing with this, know that I understand and I love you dearly ❤️ It’s not easy but it can be bearable. My inbox is always open, honeybun. (also we’re not gonna talk about how i switched tenses w each hc shhhh)

===================================

if you couldn’t tell by my url, i love tendou dearly, bby boy is my level of crackhead energy

literally the biggest asshole when it comes to teasing but i mean, you know he loves you

which is probably how he found out about your situation in the first place

y’all were probably joking around, making aggressive jabs at each other, name calling, the whole nine yards

“tendou you look like a fuckin’ troll doll, do not tell me I need a haircut”

“well y/n, anyone would be a damn troll for dating you”

you get the picture

it wasn’t until he made an off-handed comment about your dad not loving you that your mood INSTANTLY dropped

your chest got tight, your skin went numb, all breath from your lungs just WHOOSH

when he saw the tears slip from the brims of your eyes he finally stopped talking and lept to your side

he grabbed your face with both hands and started spewing apologies after asking what was wrong, he knew you liked to joke around with him like that but you never cried from something he said before

that’s when you sat him down (after some cuddles n kisses uwu) and explained everything to him

about your dad’s emotional unavailability, how you constantly pushed yourself in everything you did to get any sort of feedback from him, how you wanted to have that relationship everyone else seemed to have with their fathers

“it feels stupid to say but... i’ll never know what it feels like to be a daddy’s girl/boy.”

the whole time he’d listen intently, just soak up every word that came out of your mouth and nod occasionally to show that he was actively retaining the info

he’d have an arm slung around you and the other hand gently rubbed your thigh with his thumb, it only left the spot once or twice to wipe a stray tear from your face

and when you finished he went silent for a moment to really think it over. usually he’d be quicker with responses, but he didn’t want to potentially make you feel worse

he’d connect the dots during this process: he actually understood why you worked so hard all the time, why you got so happy when he praised you for the smallest things, why you always seemed to derail any conversations about your parents

he’d tell you that he might not understand what being isolated by a parent may feel like, but he definitely understands being cast out. he’d want you to understand that he truly felt for you, and you don’t have to be alone despite how your father makes you feel.

lowkey he’d probably offer to talk to your dad but that was just his protective crackhead slippin’ out, give him a head pat and firmly tell him no and that it’s okay

he said it gently but you definitely saw one of his eyebrows twitch and the look in his eye

he doesn’t want anyone makin��� his baby feel this way 🥺

once he managed to make you laugh with either that attempt of yelling at your dad or just crack a stupid joke that NEVER failed to make you giggle

he’d pull you into another hug and apologize on your neglectful dad’s behalf

“I know this won’t change anything, but I’m so sorry y/n... you deserve the world and more.”

then he’d tickle you again just to hear your sweet voice wail his name in a fit of laughter, it’s music to his ears

from then on he made the effort to check up on you, tell you how proud he was, how great you were doing at XYZ

bc although he couldn’t replace your dad, he would do his damndest to be your “emotional support daddy” i’m taking this term w me to the grave

i’m so so sorry but i never write for iwa so this might be a lil’ short or ooc pls don’t come for my neck i’m trying

but ooooooh iwa-chan

he probably won’t really connect the dots as quick as tendou would but it’s fine, it’ll work out

so you were tossing a volleyball back and forth at a park or smth

and this motherfucker was being so critical over everything you did

“y/n drop your shoulders”

“your feet aren’t wide enough apart”

“no, thumb over the palm, like this”

“HAJIME IF YOU’RE JUST GONNA CRITIQUE ME GO PLAY WITH FLATTY-KAWA, THEN”

this is why he was the volleyball player of the relationship, smh

but he just chuckled and half-apologized, making a joke about how he felt bad for your dad playing catch w you as a kid under his breath

boy did your shoulders drop then

your whole body slumped and the ball fell flat in front of you

Iwa gave you a confused look before seeing how wide your eyes went, the wetness steadily forming in the corners and the way your bottom lip trembled

“hey, hey, what’s wrong? did I really coach you too hard?”

he quickly walked over to you and pulled you into his chest, pressing a sweet lil kiss to the side of your head, a hand rubbing up and down your back

you shook your head and clung onto his shirt, the tears you were choking on making your mouth unable to move in response while your whole body trembled with the sudden overflow of emotion

meanwhile iwa’s just like ??? what did i do ???

clueless

but he held your through your crying fit and waited until you stopped sniffling and hiccuping to finally ask what was wrong, pulling you into his lap as he sat down on the grass

dude still thinks he just nagged you too much lol

you explained that you really didn’t have the best relationship with your dad, that your childhood was mostly spent playing by yourself and learning how to do certain things alone or through others

growing up happened way too fast for you and it was hard for you to actually enjoy it without a father figure who made an effort to connect with you, even now.

he’s got his hand rubbing up and down your back while you talk, cheek smushed on your head as he hums in acknowledgment ever so often

now he gets it.

he’s silent for a moment, then moves to press a gentle kiss to your temple before speaking

“I’ll help you out, with everything.”

He wants to be there for you for whatever milestones you have yet to complete, considering your father was never there for the ones you did.

he ALSO wants to shit on your dad for treating you poorly but he just keeps that to himself prolly plotting to do it on his own one day oml

he reassures you that he’s proud of how far you’ve gotten on your own without that fatherly guidance, and that he’ll never let you feel so alone and helpless again.

he’ll teach you everything you need to learn

“...and I promise to be a better volleyball coach, too.”

[2018shawn]

no rain, no flowers | th

a/n: hi I bashed this out this afternoon idk it just happened lmao pls don’t read if sadness will trigger you in any way and i would like to say my inbox is always open for anyone feeling any form of emotion 💓 o yeh, i also wrote this on my phone so there's like no capitalisation lmao don’t come for me

warnings: urm SADness, angsty, breakup shit y’no. 

word count: 2.5k 

it wasn’t that you didn’t love your life, you just didn’t love your relationship with it. you knew, more than most, that without the rain, the flowers wouldn’t grow. but the rain came more often than not, and it would leave you feeling completely and utterly drenched with exhaustion, emptiness and everything in between. the days where there was a drought and flowers were blossoming with new petals were the great days. the days where you could just see flowers sprouting were the nice days. the days where the rain pushed the flowers back into the ground were the bad days. the days where it poured that hard the soil overfilled, and mud dispersed everywhere were the worst days.

and now metaphorically speaking, soil was scattered all around your feet, the rain threatening to lift it higher and higher as each minute passed by. the water in the kettle bubbled on the stove top, the gas giving a sense of warmth to the cold kitchen you stood in. london was rainy, and so was your mood. you’d spent 4 weeks and 2 days without your significant other being by your side, and more than ever, you needed him back. it wasn’t a case of wanting him, this time, it was simply and purely a necessity. of course, you couldn’t tell him this. you couldn’t let on that you needed him to come home. you could wait, you guessed, the press tours could not.

what you didn’t know, is halfway across europe, tom sensed every inch of your emotion. he nibbled at the inside of his cheek between each interview, made sure to send you a snapchat when he could get to his phone, even ordered a bunch of flowers to be delivered mid week. how ironic, you thought.

you didn’t knock tom’s boyfriend efforts, in fact, it was the complete opposite. and the more the whistle from the kettle spout screamed louder in front of you, the more you could hear it screaming for you get out. leave him. you’re not worthy. you didn’t even smile when those stupid red roses arrived perfectly displayed on your doorstep. he needed someone that squealed with excitement, someone that saw the good, instead of the bad.

pouring your tea, you ignored the ping of messages coming through to your phone, sighing and flicking the small side switch to silent. you wanted to be in a silent room, with your silent thoughts and silent mind. the cup of tea warmed your hands as your palms encased the ridiculously large, speckled mug. tom had bought you it because he’d never met anyone who loved cups of tea more than him until he met you. you’d lit the long burner, the sound of wood crackling and flames roaring soothing you somewhat, filling the space inbetween your quiet thoughts as you took small sips of your warm beverage. a single tear trickled down your cheek, landing on the blanket covering your lap, and you wondered if you were even worthy of being sat in this house. you and tom had bought it together 8 months ago, when there were enough flowers to fill a football field. month after month, the flowers died off, because you didn’t feel like home should be somewhere you didn’t feel good enough.

the sun had vanished when you woke, the window only displaying a dark view of stars and the illuminated streetlight outside your house. your neck was stiff and arm dead from the position you’d ended up in, blanket kicked to the floor and log burner burning a deep shade of amber as it began to die out. just like you’d fallen asleep with a tear escaping your duct, you’d woken up with it too. your heart was dull, aching with emptiness as your eyes wandered around your painfully empty house.

you slumped into the kitchen, placing your mug down on the kitchen counter with a clink in order to swap it for your phone. you had the usual messages from your friends, who were used to your 3-5 business days responses because you simply had to mentally prepare yourself. alongside those, were a bunch of missed calls and messages from tom and your heart felt like it was being twisted with a knife as you scrolled down the words he’d sent you.

hey bubby, todays finally finished woooo 🤟🏽 interviewer asked about you and it made me miss you more than i already do

which is a lot btw 🥺🌍

i miss eating your hair mask in the night

and how crispy it looks when you wake up 🙈

i’ll be home before you know it. i love you all the days 💙

there were more, but these were the ones which made you feel extra fuzzy inside. and despite that soft feeling, you sighed, trudging upstairs and ending up in your dressing room. he didn’t deserve this. although you loved him more than words could say, you knew you didn’t show it, no way near as much as you should. tom begged to differ; he knew you struggled. he entered the relationship knowing your mental health was knocked, barely any signs of bricks becoming stable enough to rebuild.

you pulled open the wardrobe door before pulling up your stool in order to reach the top shelf. the top shelf is where you kept all suitcases and overnight bags and because of tom’s hectic schedule, it was a good job the wardrobe was the entire length of the room because you’d have no where else to put them otherwise. there was an already empty gap from his own case like there had been for around a month. you pulled yours down, almost knocking yourself out in the process, before laying it on the floor and zipping it open. in the middle of the case was leaflets and brochures from your last holiday with tom; a water park map guide and sea life show programme. you remembered how happy you were that holiday, how you knew you’d found the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

the leaflets and brochures were soon covered by a selection of your clothes, ones you knew were necessary to take with you. when satisfied you had packed everything you needed clothes wise, you headed to the en suite bathroom, taking a couple of travel cases with you with intention of filling them all. you began by sorting through your skincare, picking the most staple pieces of your collection and leaving the ones you knew tom secretly liked to pamper himself with on a sunday.

a beckoning from a familiar voice startled you, the sound of keys dropping on the side amongst suitcase wheels dragging along the floor following the calls of your name. what, why, when, and how was he home? he wasn’t due home for another 2 weeks and he’d literally just been texting you from another country. or so you thought.

“baby? your car’s here?” he shouted, almost asking himself the question in confusion. you heard footsteps padding up the stairs as you froze, holding your half full toiletry bag in one hand and hairbrush in the other.

“i... i’m in here.” you spoke, unsure if he’d actually heard you. he immediately knew something was off from the quiver in your voice and the level of your tone. he instantly followed your sound, finding himself running through the doorway of your shared dressing room. until he saw. until he saw your almost packed suitcase of pretty much all your belongings. until he saw you through the gap of the bathroom door, another travel bag in hand. until he saw the expression on your face, a vision he’d never be able to erase. “you’re back?”

“bub, what’s going on? are you going away or something? i didn’t think your work trip was until next weekend?” he was confused, darting past your open suitcase and creaking open the door of the bathroom a little further.

“uh... it’s not. i just...” he walked up to you, thumbs delicately landing on your cheeks where they wiped away recent pools of tears. it was enough to stop you from speaking, breath hitching in your throat.

“what’s going on? i’m worried? you haven’t texted all day.” if that was why he’d come home, that was more reason for you to leave, you thought. tom couldn’t have someone that needed baby sitting. he couldn’t be flying home from important shit just because you hadn’t replied. all of this piled on top of the balance scales more, the side of pros to your relationship being sky high and unable to go any further.

“i’m sorry...” you breathed, feeling tears prick at your eyes almost straight away. he pulled you in, hand resting on the back of your head and soothingly stroking your hair as you blubbed into his chest, no concern for the growing wet patch near his collar bone.

“sorry for what my darling?” he spoke into your hair, the scent of your weekly hair mask filling his senses, making him sure you must’ve applied it last night. it was coconuty and tropical and was every bit as lovely as he’d describe you to be.

you pushed his chest away, feeling a sense of betrayal as you returned to filling your toiletry bag. his eyebrows furrowed, watching you frantically fill the bag with whatever you could, no obvious concern whether you were picking up his tootherbrush or yours. all you knew is you needed to get out of there as soon as possible. “i just, need to go.”

“go where?!” he almost shouted, clearly concerned with your sudden announcement.

“i don’t know yet. i’ll figure it out.”

he was confused and speechless. you had everything together, you had each other. it’s 2 years and 2 months since he’d first laid eyes on you and he’s regretted nothing since. but you? he figured you regretted something. the suitcase and frantic attitude were the biggest giveaways. he was in denial. surely not. you were only speaking to him 2 days ago on the phone laughing and singing about wedding songs. he hadn’t proposed yet, but boy, did he have big plans to. “what are you saying?”

“i’m saying...” you started, growing sick of wiping tears away from your eyes. he was a human barracade, but you managed to sneak round him and out of the bathroom, zipping up the small cases and putting them into your main suitcase. “i need to leave. i can’t do this.”

and those words there, shattered him into a million pieces. he’d never felt anything like it, he thought. sure, he’d lost people before. but you? you were not just people; you were his world, his life, his future. he tried to start a sentence several times, failing miserably each time as his mind blocked him from processes any full thoughts. “what... what do you mean? this?”

he followed you around the room and you only moved quicker, not wanting to get too close to his deep but inviting aftershave. “this, tom. us. it’s not right. i’m not right, well, not for you anyway.”

“what the fuck, y/n? where has this come from! if i’m away too much, tell me. if i’ve said something, tell me. if i’m bad at....”

“fuck, tom. it’s not you. it’s me.” it was so cliche, but so true. he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from wizzing around the room like a bee collecting pollen. your eyes just stared at his hand, unable to look up and look him dead in the eye.

“talk to me, darling, what’s really going on?” his grasp wasn’t harsh, you could have got out of it if you wanted to, but he guessed from the way you didn’t, you wanted to open up to him more than you thought you did. “hey...” he almost whispered, using his other hand to place his fingers under your chin, guiding your heavy head upwards until your eyes clicked. he could see pain. you could see confusion. you could do nothing but sob dramatically and you hated yourself for it. you thought you would have run out of tears by now, but from the way your legs buckled beneath you and your body curled up on the floor, you figured they were only just beginning. tom spoke reassuring words, you thought anyway, arms wrapping tightly around your shaking frame as he joint you on the carpeted floor. he rested his back against the wardrobe, pulling you further into him with no intentions of letting go. “shhh.. just breathe. breathe for me.” his palm was stroking up and down your back, his other hand taking yours, circling patterns on your skin with his thumb.

“i... i just can’t, tom. i’m pathetic. you don’t need me. you need someone who can cope with you being away. you need someone who can actually get out of bed in the morning feeling like a half decent human being. someone who can make you laugh just like you make me. someone who has got their fucking shit together.” you stuttered, through broken tears and strings of coughs. he pulled your head up, using a hand either side of your face to support you.

“don’t you dare. don’t you dare tell me i don’t need you. i don’t want to hear those words ever again. i don’t want to hear you say you’re pathetic. y/n, you’re... you’re my life. and no you might not be a half decent human being, but you’re so much more than that. you’re everything i want our children to grow up and be. although maybe i’d like them to be able to cook steak without over cooking it.” you couldn’t help but smile through the pain, remembering how many times tom had asked for medium rare and you’d served him a severely well-done sirloin. “your shit is my shit. and i know you struggle, but you gotta speak to me, baby girl. you’ve got to.”

you sighed, leaning into his palm for comfort more than anything. “you... i... i don’t deserve you.”

he felt guilty. more than ever. he meant what he said, he really did know you struggled but over the years you’d got so much better at putting on a front, pretending the world was all full of flowers when really, it was full of rain. he kicked himself for not seeing signs, for being the one not good enough for you, for letting you down and putting his career first yet again. “you deserve a million times better than me.”

his hands were snapped away from you as you stood, brushing your clothes and sighing deeply. you returned to your case, zipping it up fully and standing it upright with the handle extended. he shot up, racing over and putting his hand on the handle to drag it away from you. “no... please. don’t do this. we can talk, you can shout, you can scream, i can listen.” you tried pulling the case, but his strength was much higher than yours. you didn’t want to talk. you knew he would be better without you. you knew you was a burden. you tried tugging again, only to fail missrably and turn to face his desperate feautures and teary eyes. “please stay?”

**

taglist: @imaginashawnns @fallinallincurls @mendesficsxbombay @cosmicholland

[thedogsled]

Hi anonymous gencest person in my inbox! First of all, I wanted to reply to you thoroughly, I just happened to not be online at the time that you sent your first message, and as a result it’s taken a little time to write this reply. You seem to be really hurt by this, but the tone of your message is understanding and kind, and you deserve to be spoken to with the same respect that you did in your messages to me. I’ve put your message under the cut to protect you a little bit (I hope that you find it).

For the folks on my dash, please don’t think this is me jumping back into it. Mostly that’s because, as you mentioned in your message, I feel like everything has gotten very out of hand. The tone of the original conversation changed underneath me, because while my issues were only with tagging, I feel like some people perceived it to be something else. I’d like to clear that up. Ad hominem attacks are always unnecessary, and they derail reasonable conversation. I also think that a lot of this jumped off the back of already raised tensions and preconceptions, and the divisions in fandom are wholly responsible for that. So that’s mostly why I haven’t mentioned it on my blog since the scuffle happened, and why I’m happier putting the rest of this under a cut. I don’t agree with what this turned into (kink shaming, and making genfic people into some sort of commodity to be shot across the battlefield like human cannons), and it’s left a bad taste in my mouth how the whole thing was handled, much as it seems to have done with anonymous.

This post is about that.

Anonymous said:The gencest wank is reaching new levels. Now people on twitter are claiming that participants "support child abuse" (which child?) and are "grooming" other people. There is disagreeing with the ambiguity the term gencest imply and there is straight up calling content creators who just want to write on their favorite characters predators. Now I feel even worse about writing Winchester Gen fic and I'm not even a participant! Are yall even going to care about that?

Anonymous said:(same g*ncest wank anon) Look, nevermind. I dont really expect anything. I was hurt by both sides when I'm at a low point and just wanted to write some S&D gen fic to cheer me up. I came to vent but it wasn't called for. I'm sorry. Have a nice day. 

I’m going to start right back at the beginning. This wank started on Twitter, and it’s still continuing over there. I think a lot of the reason why things are never let go of on Twitter is because the format has a toppling effect. With things only loosely dated, and Twitter sending you notifications for things you might have been interested in, it tends to keep fires burning a lot longer. The viciousness of the conversations is one of the reasons why I’m not a very big presence of Twitter myself, not to mention block and let block isn’t considered to be a social default. People just engage with material no matter the consequences, forgetting that other people on the internet are living breathing emoting human beings.

Part of it, too, is Supernatural fandom’s divisions in general. If you look just at the wank that crossed my dash just in the last week - one week! - there’s the gencest wank, wank from old meta writers about new meta writers, wank at people who wish Cas had been in this episode, wank about Danneel--it never ends. And instead of those wanks being considered as separate incidents, they instead build one on top of another, so people come into conversations with a lot of baggage, which they aim at each other in quickfire succession.

It’s not okay. That’s part of the reason why I try and avoid engaging in ‘antis do this, antis do that’ drama, fandom dividing into sides etc. because it’s draining, it’s tiring, and it stops you from doing things you want to be doing. Trust me, I know all about the pain of just wanting to write/draw/reblog so and so, and feeling like you can’t because the fandom is a trash heap. Other multishippers feel the same way, like they can’t reblog content from certain bloggers because it’s only going to cause drama. I haven’t written or drawn anything but Destiel (apart from that one Sabriel fic for the RB last year) since I started this blog, despite being a multishipper at heart myself, because I don’t feel like that content is welcome or will be engaged with. 

This fandom cultivates that kind of unwelcomeness, in my opinion, to almost everyone in it. It also prevents people from blogging on their own blog, because again people feel they need to seek out and engage with content (even untagged content) that they disagree with, or they’re not interested with, instead of just blocking it. I like talking about ships, and I like discussing how problematic some of them are. I like discussing dark fic. I like discussing tagging practices, and how to keep people safe from being triggered in a fandom which is full of people carrying their traumas with them. While I like engaging with the dark potential of characters, I do my best not to do so at the expense or harm of others. All of those things lead to conflict, and conflict I avoid so much I don’t end up using my blog as I want to. For example, just last year I got involved in a Megstiel conversation which ended in people saying rude things about me and wearing it as a badge of honor that I blocked them. I like Megstiel. I have RPed it and I like the potential the two characters have with each other. It’s not my OTP, and I’m not a relentless wave of positivity about it, but that’s okay. That’s my opinion, and not an opinion I should have to defend, and it’s okay to block people rather than argue needlessly and spread ill feeling around even more.

Staying out of other people’s opinions didn’t happen, this time. Blocking didn’t happen (the gencest mod did use her block later on, which I wholly support, when I was still following the drama, but the block wasn’t respected. When people log out to get around blocks, it isn’t respectful, and it’s part of what fans the drama higher). Not to mention all this drama came in at peak level because all this fandom is is Us Vs. Them until everyone is in a frenzied final battle situation during every incident. Sometimes the drama is being exacerbated and misrepresented, and there are absolutely trolls trying to stir the other thing to being much worse than it is “for fun”. Fandomwank and the anon comms on Dreamwidth (formerly LJ) and to a certain extent Reddit, love making Tumblr and Twitter fans go at each other, and even if we’re pretty shitty with each other already, that’s being driven and exacerbated constantly by forces unseen. 

(Note: People may accuse me of making this up, I suppose, but we’re a powderkeg and people love to start fires. The fake Cas stan on Twitter from this summer is a GREAT example of this, they had Misha’s name in their URL and dropped shit on the writers and cast for a long time just to make people froth at the mouth “How could they say that to Jared” etc. I think people really underestimate how much rubberneckers love drama, and if there isn’t any they will happily start it. That said, a fair amount of drama starts organically, and I’ll concede as much, but if you think cackling supervillains are crazytalk let me introduce you to MS Scribe...)

Rambling about drama aside, because I’m quite passionate about how stupid this fandom gets, I want to get back to your ask. I haven’t touched your actual comments yet, and that does a disservice to them because this drama has genuinely hurt you. Fandom should know that. Their words hurt real people. The bickering hurts real people. It drives people away. It drives people I know away, and it’s hurting this anon as well. It’s like anon says: are we going to care about that? Because we should. We should be making this fandom a better place. We should be mending bridges, not distancing people and telling them their pain doesn’t matter. It matters. At least it matters to me. I want you to know that, anon.

That it matters, that’s why I got so passionate about the tagging issue. We should care for everyone’s comfort in this fandom, and that matters to me too. We shouldn’t shout names at each other. And maybe if people hadn’t been at a default level of at each other’s throats, we could have had a conversation about this. I honestly believe the gencest mod came at this from a reasonable position originally, with no ill intent. I may not have made that clear in my previous posts, but I was determined to give them the benefit of the doubt. I don’t think their definition was even that wrong, given that they weren’t trying to redefine the brodependency, imo. My issues only came from a need for fandom itself to invoke the terms Wincest and incest where necessary to protect the people who seek protection from those terms, who are harmed by it, and blacklist it. So that their blacklists work, and continue to protect them. That’s okay, I think, to ask for that, not at the exclusion of the gencest tag, but alongside it where it’s necessary. Incest isn’t what the exchange is about, as I understand it, but obviously the inclusion of ‘wincest’ in the portmanteau does make the real intent cloudy, and excludes people who might otherwise have been interested in it. You mentioned in your ask that the term was ambiguous, and that was my only issue with it, not whatever it’s gotten turned into, especially if that negativity is explicitly anti-Wincest. If the mod wants to use a term that invokes incest for her non romantic gen fest, then that’s the mod’s prerogative. Re. tagging, I think it matters, but tagging is different to the challenge. I’ve tried to be clear on the difference I feel about it since the beginning.

I think that when you are inside the bubble of a ship, it becomes difficult to see the issues with that ship. Let’s take it outside of the fandom and look at Buffy, for example. The fair and honest truth is that Spuffy is an abusive ship. It was literally abusive, then framed as love, Joss Whedon’s gross projection of being able to creepily stalk women and do whatever he wants to them because ~love~ and the woman will ultimately forgive him for being a ruthless monster and they’ll get together. (coughMarvelcough). It’s my OTP for Buffy, but it is what it is. In SPN fandom, Wincest has a similar problem, because it’s been around right since the beginning of the show, and there’s some people I feel who have forgotten that it’s an incest ship, you know, and forget that other people don’t say “It’s just incest” in real life. Only on the internet. (The response to poor Jason Fisher’s defense of Superwiki from the GA made that disconnect really clear to me. The GA literally have no idea why this show would defend incest, because how we speak about incest within fandom is wholly different to how it’s discussed in the real world.)

That said, boy oh boy. I’m about to open a whole other can of worms here.

Wincest folks get constantly attacked. Like I said, it’s an incest ship, and between the GA and people who are triggered by it and purity culture, you’ve got these people who just wanna write their ship and they’re constantly on the toe of everyone’s boot getting a right kicking. I’m not going to argue about the moral rights and wrongs of writing incest, because it’s none of anyone’s business. Writing incest isn’t a gateway drug to performing it any more than if you write stories about murder that’s what you’re setting up to do next yourself. No matter why someone writes it, generally speaking that’s between them and their catharsis. People get uppity about other people’s ships and kinks when they should stay in their own lanes, really.

Tagging is the key to that. Acknowledging your ship has issues and then making sure you tag those issues responsibly. That’s important. It protects us. It protects me when I write darkfic. It protects people who write darkfic because they’re survivors, and helps people to deal with those things when it’s tagged properly, when it’s given the name of what it is, rather than sanitized. That’s my issue with gencest as a tag (not as a fest), because it felt like sanitized incest. You need to call that what it is. You need to identify it. Your older brother climbing into bed with you naked and without permission isn’t gen. To some people within the ship, the identification of it is half the battle. When we tag considerately, we are being kind to people we don’t know, as well as protecting ourselves. Tags make fandom better and safer.

With the way things have unrolled, it’s made it so engaging in either fest seems like picking sides. That’s not okay. That’s not just this battle; this is just another casualty of the whole ship war, something which has sucked the fun out of many things people enjoy doing, and driven many many people out of fandom. I’m sorry that this one hit when you were already feeling so low, not least because we all deserve to have nice things. Fandom is supposed to be the place to go to when life is shitty, to give you fun and relief. It’s not meant to feel like getting sent back to the trenches. Not for anyone.

We need to mend our bridges. We need to keep making our content, and stop seeing it as ride or die. We need to keep our nasty opinions to our own blogs and stop calling each other names when we don’t agree. We need to stop seeing blocking as unreasonable behavior and not proper curation. We need to stop raiding ship tags for wank, or dumping our crap on other ship’s tags in the first place. We need to give more people the benefit of the doubt, and engage on conversational levels about out fandom and our ships. We need to call out issues from within our own fandom, so when drama is getting splashed around we need to say “hey, they have a bit of a point, here, maybe we can talk reasonably about it”. We need to stop shadowboxing with an enemy we think is the boogeyman, when in reality we’re punching real people in the face. We need to tag proactively, and kindly, and keep our fandom corners clean so that when people come to visit we can say “hey, we take our tagging really seriously, you can’t call us out on it.” That’s the fandom I want to be a part of.

Most of all we need to be kind to each other. Be better. For this anon and for everyone else who’s ever been hurt by fandom. Enough shittiness is enough.

To anon. I’m sorry you’re hurting. It fucking sucks, and I’m so sorry things got driven to the point they have now. I’m sorry you got stuck in the middle of it. That said, I want you to write. I want to read your content. Shippy or not, I love the relationship that Sam and Dean have, and seeing all parts of it, fluffy and dark and codependent and cute and playful and snarky. I love G rated fic as much as I love dark NC-17 fic, and I don’t care for people who gen shame, like fic isn’t interesting if it doesn’t have sex in it. Screw that noise. I hope you write. I want you to write. As part of a challenge or not. I hope you will. Everyone I’ve spoken to about this tells me they want more gen S&D content.

You, and anyone else, are welcome to send me any content you want, any time you like. I don’t reblog NC-17 content that isn’t under a cut, or content that attacks other fans, but you can send me any ship, anytime - anyone who loves any ship in this crazy fandom, regardless of what circle of affiliation you usually sit with - and I’ll share your content. With the right tags, of course! We don’t have to be this dysfunctional with each other. We can cooperate and coexist.

To anon: write it. Write it just for you. Write it to make yourself feel better, and write it to stick it in the eye of everyone who’s made you feel bad about it. When you feel powerless, doing it anyway is the power that you have, and you don’t need anyone to give it to you; it’s yours entirely.

I’m sorry this took me so long to post back to you. As you can see I wrote a little more than I initially expected to, and it took a while. If it makes you feel even a little bit better to read it, then it was worth it.

Thanks so much for your ask, for your patience, and for your respect. I hope next time you want to drop me an ask, it’s in happier times.

[mikelogan]

jdox prompt: when perry and jd break up, everyone assumes perry’s fine because 1.) he broke up with jd (not the other way around), and 2.) he’s stoic about it. Then someone (probably carla) realizes that perry’s harder on the interns and that he looks sad when he thinks no one is looking. she talks to him and he confesses that he regrets breaking up with jd. (i hope you do this prompt bc i love your fics so much!!)

THIS SHIT IS RIGHT UP MY ALLEY. Seriously, I loved this prompt so much that I wrote a “drabble” that ended up being over 2600 words, so thank you from the bottom of my heart <3 After this, I only have one prompt left in my inbox, but please, keep them coming!! 

             Carla’sday had started like any other.  Shewoke, showered, dressed, had breakfast, and cleaned up around the apartmentwhile she waited for Turk to get ready. One noticeable difference from every other day was JD’s absence.  Normally, he was just as much a part of Carla’smorning routine as anything else.  Theyusually chatted over breakfast and then when Turk emerged from the bedroom, thetwo of them would make a joke or allude to something stupid they’d done in medschool.  But since two nights ago, JD hadhardly come out of his bedroom.  Twonights ago, he’d stopped acting like the JD Carla knew and loved.  Two nights ago, Perry had broken up with him.

             This didnot deter Carla from trying to cheer her Bambi up – or at least get him out ofbed.  She’d decided to give him one moreday to wallow in self-pity before she really kicked his ass and forced him goback to work.  After all, she wasn’theartless.  She could appreciate how hardit would be for JD to go back to the hospital where he had for so long workedbeside Perry, and that he had to work through his raw emotions first.  More than anything, more than the sadness itcaused her to see her friend so devastated, she was furious.  And Carla when she was furious was a force tobe reckoned with.  

             Ratherthan laying into Perry the first moment she saw him, she’d chosen to observehim, her anger simmering just below the surface.  Truthfully, she hadn’t seen much of himlately – they were both busy now that flu season had arrived.  More patients to take care of meant less timefor socializing.  Carla spent the firsthalf of her day simply watching Perry and was surprised to find that hisdemeanor seemed quite typical.  He barkedat the interns, she heard him complaining about patients, and he bickered withKelso.  

             Carlaspotted Perry later that day sitting alone at one of the far tables in thecafeteria and squared her shoulders.  Ifshe didn’t lay into him now, when would she get her next chance?  She knew that JD had asked – practically begged– her not to talk to Perry, but the opportunity was just too clear.  She walked purposefully toward Perry, butpaused for a moment, her lunch tray held in front of her.  Now that she looked at Perry – really looked at him – it was obvious that hewas hurting, too.  Carla did not feel asmuch compassion for him as she did JD, that was true, but Perry had been herfriend before all this.  When JD had comehome in tears and told Carla – who had been the only one home at the time –that Perry had broken up with him, she hadn’t wanted to give up on the two ofthem.  She’d been so sure they were madefor each other, but JD, through his tears, explained how Perry had said hecouldn’t do this anymore.  He hadn’tgiven real concrete reasons either, not that JD had told Carla anyway, and shedidn’t feel like pressing JD for more information was appropriate at thetime.  So on his behalf, shecold-shouldered Perry when she could, but seeing JD so broken, in so much pain,was hurting her, too.  But now itappeared that JD wasn’t the only one hurting from the break-up.

             “Thisseat taken?” she asked, standing expectantly across from Perry.

             Hecringed at the sound of her voice and did not look up.  “I’m betting you’ll sit there no matter whatI say,” he said dryly, pushing away his uneaten tray of food.

             “I cameover here,” Carla said as she sat down, her tone impassive, “to tear you a newone, you know.”

             “Get totearing, then,” Perry replied, stunning Carla with the lack of emotion in hisvoice.  “Lord knows I deserve it and you’vealways been good at it.”

             “But then,” Carla started as soon as Perrystopped talking, “I noticed that you were sitting here, all by your lonesome moping. I wouldn’t expect the person who did the breaking up to be so… sad.”

             “Carla,honestly, I think I’d prefer you hating me to this psychoanalysis.  So could you just leave me be or startshrieking because this I cannothandle.”

             Carlasighed and crossed her arms as she leaned in toward Perry.  “You look like hell,” she said flatly, notingthe bags under Perry’s eyes.

             “If youmust know, my back has been acting up,” Perry snarled.

             “And whyis that?” Carla asked, not believing Perry’s excuse.

             Perry’sjaw tightened for a moment before he finally looked up at Carla.  “Because I’ve slept on the couch for the lasttwo nights,” he said, his voice much quieter. “I can’t sleep in my bed.  Doesn’tfeel right without him there.”

             Carlablinked, digesting the response she hadn’t been expecting.  “I… what now?” she finally asked, at a lossas to what else to say.

             “I made ahuge mistake, Carla,” Perry groaned, finallyletting some emotion show in his expression. “I swore to myself that I’d never hurt him…”

             Carlacomposed herself – seeing Perry like this was disconcerting.  “Then why on earth did you end things with him?”

             Perryshook his head, looking pained.  “Carla,you and I both know he deserves so muchbetter than me.  He – he deserves someonewho can give him everything, who’s more likehim.  Someone who knows how good he is.”

             “You’refull of shit,” Carla said flatly.  “Ihave never heard something so ridiculous in all my life.  You’re making all these excuses because you’retoo proud to admit that you’re scared.  You’re scared of being vulnerable and ofgiving yourself to one person who you knowwould do anything for you.  That level of devotion really freaks you out,doesn’t it?  And I’m betting it’s becausethe idea that you can love someone and they can love you just as much and youcan be happy if you’d just try for once in your life is so foreignto you that you’d rather just run the opposite direction and start this wholecycle of hurt all over again.”

             Perrylooked abashed, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Carla kept right ongoing, her rage finally having bubbled up to the surface.

             “If youhonestly, truly care about JD – if you lovehim – you wouldn’t be here right now. You’d be kneeling by his bed and begging for forgiveness.  Because you, me, and everyone else know thatyou’re meant for each other and that he loves you more than anything in thisworld.  He hasn’t left his damn bed sinceit happened, Perry, and he can’t keep going like this.  And if you’re still too proud and hard-headedto admit that you’re scared, then you’re going to be alone for the rest of yourlife.”

             Withthat, Carla left the table, taking her tray with her without another word orglance in Perry’s direction.  She knewcoddling Perry would never have made a difference and that he responded muchbetter when she gave his usual blunt rants right back to him.  She could only hope that he took it to heart.

             Perry didnot think as he left the hospital.  Hehadn’t bothered to tell anyone he was leaving and he was sure he’d pay for thatdearly later, thanks in large part to Kelso, but for once, he could recognizethat the hospital couldn’t be his first choice anymore.  He sped toward JD’s apartment, disobeyingseveral traffic laws in the process, and finally arrived ten minuteslater.  The reality of what he was doing reallydidn’t sink in until he was standing face-to-face with the apartment door.  Suddenly, the key to the apartment felt muchheavier in his pocket, though he was quite happy that he hadn’t returned italready.  He took a deep breath andhesitated just another moment more before he unlocked the door and steppedinside.  

             Theapartment was quiet and JD’s bedroom door was shut.  Perry could just make out the muffled soundsof JD’s shower running.  At least he’dbeen able to rouse himself enough to take a shower.  Perry sighed and opened the door to JD’sroom, deciding to wait for him on the bed. And then the sound of low, heart-wrenching sobs met his ears.  It was clear that JD wasn’t doing as well ashe seemed and Perry felt a physical ache inhis chest at the sound.  There was no wayhe could stand to listen to one second more of this.

             “JD?” hecalled into the bathroom, trying to be loud enough for him to hear over thewater, but his voice was surprisingly weak. “JD, I – I want to talk.”

             Immediately,the sobbing ceased and Perry heard the unmistakable sound of a bottle ofshampoo being dropped.  “I’ll be out in aminute,” came JD’s broken voice, still thick with tears.

             Perrysank down onto JD’s bed and put his head in his hands as he waited.  How had he screwed things up so royally?  And hadn’t he sworn again and again that nomatter what happened he’d never hurt JD? He’d promised him so many times and now here he was, crying his eyes outin the shower because of Perry.  It onlyreaffirmed his belief that JD deserved so much better.  He was jolted out of his thoughts when heheard JD turn the water off and he waited anxiously for him to dress and emergefrom the bathroom.  When he finally did,there was no way he could have prepared himself for just how miserable JDlooked.

             Standingbefore him was a very pale JD with bags under his red and puffy eyes, his damphair lying limp against his forehead.  Hewas dressed in an old sweatshirt and sweatpants and he looked like death warmedover.  He did not speak, instead waitingfor Perry to explain himself.

             “JD,”Perry started, pausing when he found his breath catching in his throat.  He closed his eyes and began again.  “JD, sweetheart, I’m so sorry for what I’veput you through.  If I could take it allback, I would.”

             JD’s lipquivered, but he stood his ground.  “Well,you can’t,” he said, his voice only shaking a little.  “What’s done is done.  You made it perfectly clear that you don’twant me.”

             “It’s notthat I don’t want you,” Perry said, his tone pleading.  “I never stopped wanting you, kiddo.  I – I was scared.  And Carla tearing me a new one today made merealize that.”

             “Whatcould you possibly have to be scared of?” JD asked, trying his hardest to soundangry, but it only came out as devastated.

             “Of justhow much I love you,” Perry said weakly. It was quite the sobering experience to actually say it out loud andjudging by JD’s expression, he could see that. “JD, I’m not here to make excuses for myself.  I just want you to know that if I could havea second chance at this, I’d make sure you knew just how much I care aboutyou.  Your happiness means everything tome and while I’m quite certain that there are plenty of people out there whocould make you happier than I ever could, I don’t know that I could live withmyself if I didn’t come here and try to make things right.”

             JDsniffed, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, before walking over to the bed andsitting down beside Perry.  “Why do youthink someone else could make me happier?” he asked in a small voice, staringdown at his lap.  “All I’ve ever wantedis you and when I had you, I was…Perry, you made me happier than I ever could have imagined.  And then, out of nowhere, you pushed me awaywith stupid excuses and you said things just to hurt me, to make sure I’dgo.  And now you’re telling me it’sbecause you were scared?”

             “I’venever felt like this in my entire life,” Perry said quietly, knowing that ifthere was any hope of JD forgiving him, he’d have to be more vulnerable than he’dever been.  “I – I don’t know how tohandle it.”

             “Youcould start by talking about it,” JD said, a bitter edge to his voice that hadnever been there before.  “I tell youeverything, Perry.  You’ve never done thesame for me.”

             Perryswallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “I’d like to start now, if that’s all right.”

             JD saidnothing, so Perry took it as permission to continue.

             “Themorning before… everything,” he started uncertainly, “I woke up before youdid.  And for a while, I just laid there,watching you sleep.  It wasn’t the firsttime, but this time was… different somehow. You looked so peaceful, and just lying there looking at you, Newbie, Icould see everything.  Our whole lives were there, right in front ofme.  The big things, the smallthings.  I could see moving in together,getting married, having a kid or two… I could also see the long days at workand coming home to you and having a frozen pizza for dinner and the stupidarguments we’d have.  What scared me mostabout all that was how badly I wanted it. The domesticity, the idea of being so transparent with another person…it freaked me out, JD.  And my firstinstinct was to run away and the only way I could think to do that was to hurtyou so badly that you’d willingly go.  Itwas cruel and selfish and so very wrong of me to put you through that.  Which is why I’ll understand if you want togo our separate ways, but I wouldn’t be able to give up without at leasttrying.”

             “All Iever wanted was for you to be like this,” JD said, his voice wavering onceagain.  “To be completely honest withme.  I always sensed there was something you were holding back, I justdidn’t know what it was.  I want allthose things with you, too, Perry.  Don’tyou think that scares me just as much? But even through all that fear and uncertainty, I know that it’s right.  I don’tcare if there are twenty thousand other people scattered across the globe thatare ‘better suited’ for me than you.  Idon’t want anyone else.  And I neverwill.”

             Perryreleased a long breath and slowly held out his hand for JD to take, but only ifhe chose to.  “You’ve always been sopatient with me, sweetheart, and for that, I can’t thank you enough.  And if there’s any way for me to repay thatto you, I’ll try for the rest of my life.”

             JDhesitated for a moment, but then took Perry’s hand, lacing their fingerstogether.  “Just promise me that when youget scared,” he murmured, looking up at Perry with tear-filled eyes, “you’lltell me.  If there’s anything I’velearned from this, it’s that we’re stronger together.  You keep me in check when I’m doing somethingdumb or crazy and I can help you when you’re worried about something.”

             “Ipromise,” Perry vowed, squeezing JD’s hand. “I love you, kid.  Yourforgiveness means everything.”

             “I loveyou, too,” JD whispered, closing his eyes even as his tears finally slippedfree.  He ducked his head andimmediately, Perry pulled him closer, into his arms.  

             Perrypressed a kiss to JD’s hair, which was still damp, and rocked him slowly.  He didn’t bother telling him he was okay orthat things would be all right, because he couldn’t be certain that either ofthem were true.  All he could promise wasthat he would try his hardest to see that JD would soon be happy again.  And for now, that was enough.

[marwritesgood]

Hallucinate | I. Lahey

Pairing ;  Isaac x Alpha!Reader

Timeframe ; S3E6 (Motel California)

Summary ; In which Isaac has difficulties trusting Y/n at first, due to her long-term friendship with Peter Hale. However, when he witnesses her hallucinations, it dawns on him that maybe they weren’t so different after all.

Warnings ; descriptions of an abusive father. death of a mother. suicide attempt.

A/N ; Day 2 of 31 Days of Christmas.

This imagine is also one of my darker ones, and the themes of it can be very harmful and triggering for victims of self inflicted abuse or domestic violence. These topics are very heavy and not for the faint-hearted, so please be very weary and take good care of yourself.

Alongside that, never hesitate to message me should you ever need someone to confide in, my inbox will always be open for anyone who needs a friend.

Peter Hale was trouble. That was a matter of fact not an opinion. Derek and I had been friends for as long as I could remember, so ultimately, a friendship soon blossomed between I and his uncle. It was strange, of course, having close friends who were more than 4 years older than me, but that was the effect those boys had on other people. Once they were in your lives, there was no way of kicking them out.

I had moved away in my Freshman year of High School, following the house fire that killed almost all of Derek’s family members. I begged my parents to let me stay with Derek, because I could’t bear the thought of leaving him to grieve all on his own, but to stay in Beacon Hills would have been equivalent to putting a bright red target of the backs of everyone I loved;

My parents thought that by moving away from our hometown, we would, ultimately, be escaping from the clutches of Kate Argent and her family. However, within a year of moving away, the hunters managed to catch up to us. I soon became very alone in the small town I was in. I became the notorious girl who was the walking embodiment of a jinx, because in what world does a house fire kill everyone except for one person?

So, as a result of the immense loneliness I experienced subsequent to going from having an overcrowded home to no home at all, when Derek called me to tell me that Peter was resurrected, courtesy of a redheaded banshee, I did not hesitate to use that as an excuse to move back home. 

Nothing too significant seemed to have changed when I returned to Beacon Hills. Sure, plenty of familiar faces were not so familiar anymore, and new people were brought into the town, plenty of which formed a pack together. I knew that, if I planned on sticking around, which I did, I needed to be on good terms with as many people as possible, and I managed to do so with lots of the people my age at Beacon Hills High. Scott Mccall. Lydia Martin. Stiles Stilinski. Hell, even the Argent girl was beginning to warm up to me. Everyone was friendly and somewhat welcoming towards me.

Except for Mr Isaac Lahey. 

“She should be on your list of suspect, Stiles,” I heard him mutter from the backseat of the bus, where he sat behind Scott and Stiles. He was completely oblivious to the fact that I, too, was a werewolf, an alpha for Pete’s sake, and that I could hear him clear as day. “I mean, she shows up out of nowhere, and even after being her for nearly a month, we still know nothing about her… Not to mention she’s friends with Peter. Anyone who’s friends with that guy should not be trusted.”

I rolled my eyes and tucked a strand of hair behind my right ear. Trust Isaac to be that one person who did everything he possibly could to convince people I was the bad guy. It didn’t matter where the conversation began, Isaac always managed to mention his skepticism about my true agenda. 

“Leave her alone, Isaac,” Scott said, sighing tiredly. “We shouldn’t judge her just because she’s friends with Peter. Maybe if you got over that you’d understand why the rest of us trust her. She’s not as terrible as you make her out to be, Isaac… Just give her chance.”

“She’s an alpha, Scott,” he reiterates, unfazed by anything Scott had to say to him. “Do you realize what that means? It means that she’s either your level of goodness or she killed someone to gain her status. And, judging by her poor choice in friends and frequent hostility, my money is on the latter.”

At this point, my blood has reached its boiling point, and Scott must have already sensed it, because when I abruptly stood up and turned around, he was already watching me, scared for what I was about to say to his tactless friend.

“I get it, Isaac,” I begin, glaring at him despite my face displaying almost no emotions. “Believe me, I get it. You don’t like me. You don’t trust me. You despise the fact that Peter is my friend and you’re frustrated with the fact that your friends still trust me in spite of all that. I don’t give a shit about a lot of things, like this stupid bus trip I’m being forced to go on, or your irrelevant uninformed opinion about me. What I do give a shit about, however, is blonde-haired, blue-eyed little betas talking about me like they know half the crap I have been though.”

“Y/n, I’m-” he says softly, his expression flooded with instant regret. I hesitated to stay angry at him, as it did seem like my message had been received, but the memory of my family re-entered my mind, and I couldn’t control the anger and frustration that came subsequently.

“- And you don’t, Isaac,” I yell angrily, forgetting that we were in a school bus full of nosy teenagers. “You don’t know a single thing about me. You don’t know the life I’ve had. The memories I’ve shared with Peter and Derek that have led me to be their friends for as long as I can remember. You don’t know how I became and Alpha. You do not know me, and you never will, so stop talking about me like you do, or so help me God I will take one of your pretty little scarves and shove it up your-”

Coach Finstock blew his whistle at at an deafening volume, before angrily pointing to my seat at the front of the bus. I turn around, after ensuring everyone had gone back to chatting amongst themselves, and I glare one last time at Isaac, but this time with my bright red eyes. 

“-and the last room goes to Y/n and…”

Coach holds up the final key and squints his eye as he attempts to read whatever he had written on the sheet of paper attached to his clipboard. The bus we were on had crashed, leaving us students in the middle of nowhere without any place to go except for the stingy motel just a few blocks away from the crash site. Coach sorted everyone into groups of two, according to gender, and my name was the last of girls to be read out.

“Looks like it’s just you, Y/n.”

“What’s new,” I mutter quietly to myself, as I marched up, snatched my key out of Coach Finstock’s hand and head straight towards my allocated room. I had no idea that Isaac had been keeping an eye for me and heard what I said under my breath. However, what he heard was what, thankfully lead him to check up on me later that night, and ultimately wake me up from my most terrifying recurring nightmare.

I took my jacket off and chucked it onto the second bed in the room I was given, before taking my shoes off and walking into the bathroom. I heard footsteps and chatter from McCall and his friends, but just assumed that whatever issue they had going on would be quickly resolved. 

I start to sing a tune to the last song I had been listening to on my phone, as I washed my face, ready to sleep away the overbearing exhaustion I felt. That was until the sound of my voice became overpowered by a loud ringing inside my head. Squeezing my eyes shut, I place my hands on opposite sides of my head to try and block out the sound, which works almost too quickly.

“What the fu-” I exclaim, before I am cut off instantly when I open my eyes ad see dead father standing in front of me, very much alive. We are still in the bathroom of my motel room, but he is glaring angrily at me the way he used to when he was alive.

“You are such a wimp,” he yelled, causing me to jump from having not heard the hostility only his voice is able to possess. “God, I can not believe I got stuck with a weak and pathetic excuse for a daughter. Are you a fucking moron or something?… Well?!  Answer me!”

“N- No,” I stutter, not knowing how to respond. How was he standing there? How could he be yelling at me the way he used to if he died?

“Sorry, sweetheart, but Derek or Peter won’t be here to save you anymore. Looks like you’re gonna have to stop hiding behind other people and finally toughen up… Now go and get the matchsticks you keep in your bag and lock the bathroom door when you come back.”

I felt like I had lost complete control of my body and of my consciousness, because I did. I didn’t say a single thing in response, but I instead just walked towards my backpack, grabbed the packet of matchsticks in the emergency pack I kept inside, walked back into the bathroom and I locked myself inside. 

My father stopped barking orders at me, but instead went back to yelling at me. It was at that moment that my body completely shut down, and I continued to do things without control. I opened the bathroom cabinet and found a bottle of hairspray, before looking into the cupboard below the sink only to find a bottle of gasoline. I unscrew the cap off of the bottle of gasoline, and I begin to pour its contents all over the bathroom floor. 

However, as I am about to pour the remaining gasoline onto my body, I hesitate when I hear a loud crash coming from the front door, and am able to identify the scent as Isaac’s. My father notices this, however, and his anger only grows.

“You are not about to give up on me, are you, young lady?… Are you?!”

“N-No, sir,” I stutter, grabbing the packet of matchsticks out of fear. 

“You are the reason your mother died. You are the reason I died in that house fire. What makes you think you deserve to continue living after what you did? I saw what you did, Y/n! I saw the way you killed her!”

By now, Isaac had already successfully busted down the door to my bathroom, but he was far too shocked to say anything, which lead me to forget that he was standing right there and focus on my father.

“Sh-She told me to,” I whimpered, holding a matchstick up, but not yet gaining enough strength to ignite it. “Mom told me to do it. She was already dying… She told me to do it t- to become an Alpha. She told me she couldn’t feel anything more, that I wouldn’t be hurting her.”

“Of course she told you that!” He yelled, moving closer to me so that his voice was even more deafening than it already was. “Only an idiot would believe her, so it makes sense that you did.”

“Y/n,” this time it is Isaac speaking to me, his voice soft and calming, which was a pleasant change to say the very least. “Put the matchbox down, alright… You don’t need to do this… You’re a good person, okay? You don’t have to do this,”

“No, Isaac,” I whisper, with tears streaming down my cheeks as I shook my head furiously. “I am a bad person. I killed my own mother. I stabbed her with my claws and I ended her life, I-I don’t-”

“Hey,” he said softly, as he took slow steps towards where I stood. “I know what you’re going through. I know what it’s like to have that kind of guilt. Believe me, I know… Okay, but, I need you to hear me when I say that you do not need to do this, okay? I know it’s hard and it’s lonely, but it gets better, okay?… And you’re not alone, alright? You have Peter and Derek. You have Scott and Stiles and… and you have me, Y/n. I promise you it will get better, but I need you to put the matchsticks down first, Okay?”

I don’t know how he managed to do it, but when my eyes scanned the room I couldn’t see my father anywhere. All I could see was a huge puddle of gasoline and a distressed tall blond standing opposite me with both his hands held up. Not only did I regain my sense of reality, but thanks to Isaac I also felt a little bit better, almost lighter, about being an orphan in Beacon Hills.

“Okay,” I reply in a whisper tone, before placing the matchstick and its box into Isaacs hand. 

I really hoped  things would get better.

[someraesofsun]

I fell asleep with like.... I think around 120 asks in my inbox, a lot of them old things I was saving or nice messages I refused to post so I would have them to myself forever and then ten or so hateful anons towards the top making fun of my gender identity, my hair, the way I look, my personality, things I said, on and on. These are the ones I don't post because sometimes people just don't need to see that shit. I did, stupidly, post anything that I could answer back in a tongue and cheek way, or anything that didn't hit me as hard. Last nights ask that insinuated the idea that I, a Jewish man, was a Nazi sympathizer took things to a whole new level and I probably should have deleted that ask and I shouldn't have taken the bait. But I just certainly fucking did anyway.

When I woke up I had 146 things in there and all the new things were lovely messages or prompts and one is even a header someone actually spent time making.

This is a lot to take in right now because I was convinced that stupid post about wanting positive attention would only bait mean anons and I was convinced that a good portion of my new followers I managed to get in the past few months were just hate following me and waiting for every opportunity to say something about every dumb mistake I ever made. It's really nice to see that isn't exactly the case. I was extremely distraught over all this last night. I've been getting fairly regular hate mail since June I believe. It increased to this near constant thing where I just needed to expect at least one every day. And I know I bring a lot of negative attention myself by having a lot of fucking opinions. I know it's this open secret that I don't particularly care for certain people in the community and certain people in the content. But I have always insisted on operating under the idea of trying not to give a fuck about other people and still speaking my truth on the comfort of my own blog. Key word here is trying but I digress.

Thank you very much for filling up my ask with love. To go from 120 to 146 in the span of six hours? That's wild. I will admit seeing that when I woke up made me almost throw up because I just saw a number, I didn't know just what kind of mail I was getting. I was trying to hint that I wanted a little love in the pm of a friend's last night and only got more frustrated when they didn't take the hint at all and insisted on bringing the subject back to them a bunch. I got so frustrated with still other people who I felt were just ignoring me when I talked. I was mad at my mom, the dog for stealing my dinner, everything was pissing me off real bad.

I was considering reckless solutions to small problems I needed to sleep off by transferring ownership of my discord to someone else and leaving, deleting my blog, and just not coming the fuck back.

I'm not gonna say finding all that mail in the morning and how overwhelmingly positive it was hasn't deterred me from still thinking of these crazy extreme solutions to my stupid problems. But I will say that it helped a lot waking up to it. I can't really... Put into words my exact emotions here. I had been flung with hate for so long and I would always get one or two other anons in response to that hate who would cheer me up, but it still didn't outweigh all the mean shit I was getting. This definitely outweighed it today and no I don't expect this every night and yes I'm really fucking grateful for everyone who sent something in. From the comfort to the prompts to the threats against my mean anons to even the silly joking ones. They all really made me smile. So thank you very much for cheering up what I thought was going to be a real had morning.

I'm not about to delete the blog just yet. I'll turn off anon in the ask which sucks because 80 percent of the nice messages were anonymous senders. But it's necessary to indefinitely have it off. The Nazi ask fucked with me just enough that I'm not keen on having it on right now.

I love the followers who really do care about me. You're all the best.