#and there's been plenty of situations where an adult kid has been mistake for their father or mother

[firebirdsdaughter]

If I were…

… To draw… Er… List my take on the family tree of White Collar:

You have Peter and El as mom and dad and Neal as their son, obvi, and then later Neal II/Jr as well. Peter and El both care intensely about Neal and don’t just hold him to a better standard but completely believe he can achieve it. The most earnestly invested in his future w/out any strings attached—they’re supportive and well intentioned and flawed and loving. They also don’t let him get away with things bc he’s charming.

Hughes and June are grandparents. In different ways and in no way w/ each other, but Hughes is the serious, rule enforcing grandfather who is gruff but reasonable but wants kids these days to appreciate hard work.  June is wine grandma who sees it as her gods’ given right to spoil any and all grandchildren she decides she has, esp when they remind her of her late husband.

Mozzie is somewhere between That Cousin or That Uncle who just. Gets everyone into trouble most of the time but when he comes through he comes the fuck through and he and Neal are inseparable.

Diana and Jones, to me, are more like younger siblings to Peter—he’s the ‘leader’ and ‘older brother’ (answering to their ‘dad’ Hughes), but their interactions have a different sort of tone. Not more ‘equal’ per se, but more in sync? Hard to describe, but they are definitely younger siblings who are sometimes more able to speak ‘young person’ to the adult kid.

And then James is… Well, exactly what James is.

[qweerhet]

btw, i do understand that when most people talk about running someone out of town, they're thinking it'll only be requested in situations where, like. someone has continuously abused their power in multiple spaces and that abuse of power will not stop. someone who is, like, in a position of authority over many different people, and consistently uses that authority to commit egregious acts of violence. people like drug dealers who use their position to make addicts reliant on them and repeatedly violate them sexually or otherwise, like abusive bosses who sexually traffic people through their company, etc etc etc.

thing is--running someone out of town is a tool, and we have to understand that any tools we choose to make standard in our community toolkits will be applied to people who did absolutely nothing wrong. i have been privy to many, many community cases where someone was accused publicly of sexually violating someone who they had never interacted with sexually. there are material benefits to casting oneself as a victim, if you're white and want to punish someone for unrelated reasons, and white people take advantage of this dynamic currently, in the world we live in. but it's not acceptable to push for a world where we do not believe victims of harm when they speak up--so we need to understand that whatever tools we put in our community toolkits, we either design them so that minimal harm comes of it if they're applied to the wrong person, or we accept the collateral damage of occasionally uprooting the lives of people who have done nothing wrong (and/or enacting physical violence on them).

this isn't even getting into the weeds of things like: sometimes, someone is in severe pain and extremely activated from their recent trauma, and it means they need to interact with the person who hurt them as if that person was an intentionally malicious figure who has a significant amount of power and hurts other people with it regularly. this is okay; the victim should have the ability and space to do that, they should be able to cut off the person who harmed them and do their trauma work in the way that works for them. but it doesn't objectively, outside of that space, mean that the person who harmed them is otherwise dangerous or objectively a malicious figure with a lot of power.

like. i was date raped. after we broke up, i needed to view her as malicious and intentionally violating my consent, in order to heal from the trauma i had experienced. but, like... with time and plenty of trauma work and after getting a handle on my nervous system's activation patterns? i'm pretty sure she was just inexperienced and thought that was how consent worked. she had a lot of dubiously consensual sexual experiences as a kid, and i'm pretty sure she just... thought that was how sex worked for everyone as adults, too. she wasn't a dangerous predator who needed to be run out of town, she was a traumatized 18-year-old who needed to be removed from her abusive household and taught about drugs and alcohol and consent.

everyone who acted on what i felt and said during my activated trauma state, and attempted to run her out of town and threaten her with violence? was making a mistake. that did nothing to address the harm she caused. she barely knew what she was doing.

so: harm reduction and redressment toolkits should also take into account extremely real, biological functions like nervous system activation in trauma victims. this isn't infantilization, this isn't removing autonomy, this is acknowledging that someone in a highly activated vulnerable state isn't in a position to make decisions for an entire community of people. asking a heavily traumatized, currently-activated person to direct an entire community in addressing the harm that just happened to them is putting too much on their shoulders, no matter how well they're dealing with what happened. they should have complete and utter autonomy over what they do and how the community treats them in this situation, but asking them to decide what happens to the other person/people isn't fucking fair. asking them to make a realistic assessment of if this person is a predatory danger to the community that cannot be addressed, or a person with minimal power who also needs help to address their dysfunction so they don't harm people, isn't fucking fair.

(not that that's even a binary to begin with!)

[makingspiritualityreal]

Parental wound healing Trauma Processing.

Something that I feel is not talked about enough is the practical side effect of experiencing irreversible loss as a result of trauma. This is something I've been battling with my whole life, due to lack of a parental influence. It's very painful to talk about, and it took me years to be present with the feeling fully, because existing with it every day is so bad makes me want to not be alive at all, just so that I don't have to experience it.

I've been ashamed of it in the past, thinking that talking about it would make me look weak and show how desperately life has actually starved me. I used to think I shouldn't show how this has hurt me, that it would lead to me being mocked and called weak. That it's something I should hide, because I was raised to feel like it's my fault that I'm experiencing this pain. But as much as I'm in pain right now and have been all along, I'm also angry, very angry with people who put me in these situations. I realise the original wound is parental, and everything else after is a mirror...but just because I'm aware of my own mirrored wounds, it doesn't absolve anyone involved from their behaviour, parent or not.

My parents separated when I was 2. My father was greatly upset with my mother for moving back in with her parents and taking me to another town, thus making it more difficult for him to see me. Still, it was unavoidable, as their relationship wasn't working despite their attempts at fixing it. Technically, the distance wasn't bad enough for me to be inaccessible, just a couple of hours of a car ride, but to my father it was an emotional blow. Because of his poor emotional processing and his earlier wounds, he locked himself away, and as a result, ignored me completely for the next 6 years.

That put me in a difficult spot. I was raised by my mom, who made a considerable effort to love me as much as she could on her own, but I suffered a poor emotional background of my father being so self-centred and locked away in his mistakes, he didn't consider my own needs at all. There are plenty of kids, who go through parents separating that don't end up in such a tough spot. My father however, was always strictly selfish, ultimately not doing right by anything or anyone in the process. My mom never remarried, which left me bereft of any male influence or care from a father figure growing up.

This started a chain of events in a story, where I couldn't win, no matter what I did. After my parents separated, my mother encouraged me to send postcards to my father on special occasions, despite the bad blood between them. She wanted me to have an opportunity to have contact with the other parent. My father ignored all of my attempts at contact, and only contacted me years later at his convenience, without apologising for being absent this entire time.

Then, as we would meet during summer vacations, the other aspect of the abuse started, as he would only approve of me as much as I tried to fit into his agenda to move back abroad with him, in order for him to forget the mistakes of his past. Naturally, being only a child, I refused to be moved back abroad to my birthplace, only to fit his selfish means, which was wrong in the first place. Seeing, that he can't manipulate me to change his mind, he set out to start a new family, completely side-lining me. He had a new wife, a new daughter, and if he was neglecting me 99% before, at this point he was neglecting me a 120%.

There was nothing I had to gain for myself from this relationship, so at some point, after a particularly angry fight, which took place when I was already an adult, I cut off contact. Which we still haven't really resumed since.

My father's new relationship ultimately didn't work, as currently both my little sister and his recent ex try to milk him for all his money, which my mother never did out of kindness, and they both don't care for him one bit emotionally either. When we met a few months ago, he told me he should have treated me better and invested in me more...only now I'm almost 30, and for me it is too late.

I could be angry with him. I could be angry that such a fractured childhood results in me manifesting either no men at all, or selfish, blind people who mistreat my emotions. But for the most part, I'm devastated. Because while I cut contact off with him, he went on to distract himself with his new faux family, that didn't really make him happy...and completely skipped over the fact, that I needed to have a father. That I needed to have a model for a man in my life. That while he had a new family, as fake as it was, I had no one, and still don't, all these years later. There was no way for him to see my suffering, because he didn't want to look at it. He would tell me, that life is tough and I should grow up, because no one would care about how I feel. But in reality, it meant he didn't care enough how I feel to treat me well. He didn't want to look at his mistakes, because he didn't want to face himself.

At the end of the day, understanding all that doesn't make anything better for me. Because I still didn't get anything for myself. Because I still don't feel any relief. Because as much as I managed to work through feeling responsible for this situation, when it was the fault for my father's mistakes, I am still neglected, skipped over, uncared for. My well being was still sacrificed, just so that someone else could be dumb about their life choices, that only brought losses to all parties involved. I couldn't have done anything. I am helpless and powerless to other people's bad decisions, alone with the problem, still unloved. I might have had removed the element of trying too hard for a toxic parent, that doesn't reciprocate, but I'm still left with the pain so strong I don't even want to exist. Worst of all is knowing nobody will care, nobody will look at me or my needs or how I'm doing. Nobody will make this situation right. There is no hope for me to receive what I need or get better, to get what is owed to me in any form. No anger is going to solve this for me. No effort on my part is going to improve this situation. I am at the mercy of fate, and mistakes of people with a lower level of compassion and no care for my suffering, with no possibility of creating anything healthier in my life.

[ptergwen]

from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

-

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

-

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.

[skellebonez]

Hey! This is my first time doing this ! But can you wirte a scenario where in Winter's cursed AU where MK's parents try to come back and get custody again?( With prompt 14 and 45) With protective monkey dads? Have a great rest of your day! 💕

Thank you so much, I hope you like this as your first fill! It was very enjoyable to write since I had this idea months ago but never had the chance to put it down. But you’re gonna get a little more than just protective monkey dads! This is set pretty far into @winterpower98 's AU so he has a lot of people behind him.

Am I scaring you?/You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child.

It didn’t take much guessing to figure out exactly what had made MK look like he wanted to run for the hills the second he picked up his phone. There were only a few very specific scenarios that could make him react like that now. But it was the way his face hardened and his whisper yelled into it that made Pigsy realize exactly who they were dealing with without the young man saying who it was.

Again.

“This is the third time you’ve gotten a new number for this,” he said, trying to keep his voice down. “I’ve told you already, the answer is no.”

"Tang," Pigsy whispered, nudging his favorite freeloader to get his attention better. "Go keep an eye outside. The last time they did this they showed up an hour later. If they do we're shuttering the shop early."

"On it," Tang said with a nod, standing with another nod to MK as he left.

"I am an adult, you cannot do anything to- yes I'm sure. Yes... yes, because I have a lawyer now mom!"

MK’s tone of voice made Pigsy smirk proudly. Had this been a few years ago MK would have had so much difficulty even just talking back to his parents, going quiet and shrinking into himself. Now?

He was standing up straight, speaking firmly and calmly, raising his voice a bit even. In the years Pigsy had known the young man he had changed drastically when it came to his parents. His and Tang’s attempts to raise his confidence and teach him to speak up for himself had certainly helped in that regard, but his attained abilities and strength as the Monkie Kid had no doubt given him a boost as well.

Not to mention the knowledge that not only did he have two father figures behind him... he had four (granted, Pigsy had mixed feelings for many reasons about both of them, but he’d warmed up to them when he saw how much MK had grown attached to them). Add Sandy, Mei, and Red Son to the mix?

He had a powerful group behind him to support him in whatever he needed.

"What do you mean you're already here?" MK said suddenly, drawing Pigsy's attention back from his inner thoughts.

"Whoa, hey, I said you can’t go in there!" Tang's voice suddenly rang through the entrance as someone pushed him backwards into the shop. He stumbled, almost falling flat on his rear and just barely catching himself on the counter. "You've been banned from this establishment and you know i-"

"MK," the woman who entered said as she closed her flip phone shut with a snap.

A man entered behind her, matching her in simple modern fashion. He shared MK's hair while the woman shared his eyes. It was obvious who they were to anyone seeing the three of them together.

Tang turned, shooting Pigsy a quick sorry that was met with an easy smile and a nod before the chef scowled at the two of them.

"... mom, dad," MK replied, slipping his phone into his pocket. He stood at his full height, back straight and no sign of hesitation on his face. "I told you, I'm not coming home."

"And we told you that we realized we made a mistake," his mother said, voice soft but with a softly uncertain undertone to it. Like she didn't quote believe her own words but was convincing herself otherwise. "Please, let us make it right."

"You had plenty of time to make it right all the times I tried to contact you before I became the Monkie Kid," MK said easily, practiced and firm. "Besides, I'm an adult now. You can't force me to do anything I don't want to do."

"You may technically be an adult," MK's mother said with a sigh, reaching out to grab his shoulder. "But you’re still my child."

Pigsy jumped in front of her, a sharp glare his only weapon. He knew better than to threaten these two, much like some of his more rowdy customers, but he would still put himself bodily between the young man he viewed as a son and anyone making him uncomfortable when he had the ability to do so.

"If you so much as breathe on my kid-"

"But he's not your kid now is he, pig man," MK's father sniped back, venom dripping from ever word and making the entire restaurant freeze in response.

"Excuse me," a new voice called out from behind them, a figure pressing a firm hand on his shoulder. "What were you saying to my brother?"

The reaction was instantaneous. MK’s father jumping to the side with a yelp, turning to come face to face with a less than pleasantly smiling Sun Wukong and a scowling Macaque behind him, neither bothering to keep up any semblance of a human disguise at the moment.

"I believe my student made it clear to you multiple times that he is an adult who can make his own decisions about who he wants to live with," he said coldly, moving to stand beside Pigsy with his fur raised and teeth barred in a way that could be mistaken for a smile. It certainly wasn't one if you knew anything about monkeys, though.

"Scram," Macaque chimed in, voice lower and far more threatening than anyone else in the building as he took a step forward. Though his words were fewer his tone was stronger and held just as much weight.

MK's parents took a step back in turn, stepping back into the entryway itself.

"Y-you may be his mentor," MK's mother started, her tone losing the odd uncertainty under it and gaining a frustration and confusion instead. "But I'm his mother."

"Who left him to his own devices and didn't even try to show interest in reconnecting until he made something of himself," Macaque snapped, snapping his teeth together in a warning bite as he took another step forward with a growl.

His parents stumbled back out of the shop, eyes wide and watching as MK was surrounded on either side by 4 others. Pigsy and Tang on his right, Wukong and Macaque on his left.

"Am I scaring you?" Macaque asked with a chuckle, letting out a noise of surprise when Wukong's tail touched his arm.

"I think he's got this now," Wukong said with a soft smile.

"Mom, dad," MK said with his voice still firm and sure. "I'm not coming back home with you. I'm an adult and you can't force me to come back. And if you keep trying like this I'll never give you the chance to let me chose to on my own."

The duo looked at their son, his father's eyes wide in shock and disbelief and his mother's eyes much the same with an undercurrent of... something. Something none of them could really place.

"I think we s-"

“You are not good people!" MK's dad snapped, standing up to his full height to tower over everyone else. "I caution you against this! This is your last chance to accept the damage you’ve caused! And if MK does not go back with us I will have no choice but to take further action! I will be contacting my lawyer to open a lawsuit against you and further more this will ruin your life with insurmountable debt!”

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest in his assured victory as everyone else stared at him in shock and disbelief. Including his wife, who looked even more incredulous than any of them.

"D-debt?" MK eventually managed to get out, an unbelieving smile forming on his face. Before he started to laugh and march forward. "Debt? DEBT!? FUCK your debt! We'll take our chances DAD, Monkey King has a treasure trove and the best lawyer in all of China so take your debt and STUFF IT!" He raised both middle fingers toward his parents before jumping up to grab the handle of the shutter door and slam is shut before either of his parents could rush back in.

"INSURMOUNTABLE DEBT!" He yelled one last time, almost manically before sitting at a nearby table and covering his face with his hands as he burst into laughter. "I-I just- you can't threaten the Monkey King of all people with financial problems how am I related to this man!?"

The two pairs of parental figures looked at each other before laughing themselves, finding it difficult not to follow in MK's lead given how ridiculously that tense situation ended.

"You handled that pretty damn well, MK," Wukong said with proud smile as he ruffled his student’s hair.

"It's a lot easier when I know I have a bunch of dads and pops to back me up," he replied with a smile.

[gretavanfanfic]

Room 419

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: 7200ish

Warnings: Smut! 18+ only

Summary: You and Jake are tricked into sharing a hotel room by your friends following their wedding. 

Being a maid of honor in a wedding is no small feat. While you were flattered that your best friend had asked you to stand next to her on her big day, you quickly found out that it is a demanding and expensive role, and it has left you feeling overwhelmed more than a few times over the past couple months. Therefore, when she and her then-fiancé told you that they would  book your hotel room for the night of the wedding, you were more than happy to let them take that responsibility out of your hands. It would be one less thing to worry about on a sure to be hectic day.

Maybe this was your mistake, but you were fully expecting them to book you your own room. Or if not your own room, you figured they may have paired you with one of the other bridesmaids. You’re not particularly close with any of them, but you would be fine for one night.

What you were not anticipating was having to share a room with the best man.

So when the reception comes to an end and you insert your key into the card reader for room 419, ready to shower off the day and crawl into bed, you're shocked to see that a body is already occupying the mattress. More specifically, Jake Kiszka’s body. 

His brown shoes have been kicked off near the door and he’s still clothed in his navy dress pants, but his white shirt is fully unbuttoned, exposing his tan chest as he lounges on top of the plush comforter with his phone in his hand. His head pops up when he hears you enter, and while he looks surprised at first, a smirk quickly forms on his lips. 

Now, you know Jake fairly well, but you wouldn’t say that you consider him a friend. Acquaintance is probably a better word. Your best friend and her new husband have been trying to set the two of you up for years now, and while you had gone on one date with him in the past, it never amounted to anything. He was very obviously only interested in casual sex, which he offered up multiple times on your date, and he was a bit cocky for your tastes. And while you can’t deny that you were very attracted to him and very tempted by his offer, you were looking for something more serious, so you declined his advances and the two of you never went out again. Since then, you’ve heard plenty about Jake’s various conquests with all sorts of beautiful women, and so you’re not upset with your decision to let it be a one and done sort of deal.

Still, your friends haven’t let up on their quest to get you and Jake together, claiming that your compatibility is off the charts. Every time you hang out with them and Jake is there, they make remarks about how perfect you are for each other, which you always try to brush off. Jake, however, has fun feeding into their delusion and will frequently make flirty comments to you, ranging from, “Come on, Y/N! Give the people what they want! You heard them, we’re perfect for each other!” to, “You know you want a piece of this, babe. There’s no need to fight it!” You try not to make it obvious that his little jests usually leave you a bit flustered, but he seems to always pick up on your embarrassment anyway. Sometimes it even seems like he’s...proud of the fact that he can so easily ruffle your feathers.

“Well, well, well. Y/N,” Jake says arrogantly from his spot on YOUR bed. “I’m glad to see you’re finally ready to admit that you want me. I have to say though, this is a bit unexpected.”

You give him a small, humorless laugh, but your unease is clear as you question in a somewhat shrill voice, “What are you doing in my room?”

Jake’s smirk turns into a full blown grin as he answers, “Actually, this is my room. Got the key and room number directly from the front desk. You can check if you want.” He points to the key card lying on the dresser so that you can look for yourself.

Wasting no time, you let out a small huff and march over to grab the card that’s still in its paper pocket on the wood surface. Sure enough, the number on it matches the number on yours.

Annoyed at the fact that you now have to pay the front desk a visit before you can crawl into YOUR bed, you frown at Jake’s smug face and stomp out the door and onto the elevator to return to the lobby.

After waiting in line for 10 minutes behind a couple who was checking in, you approach the desk at last and are greeted by a friendly looking young woman who asks, “Good evening, how can I help you?” 

Plastering a fake smile on your face, you reply, “Hi, I think I was given the wrong room number. When I went inside just now, there was already someone in there.” 

The woman immediately apologizes. “I’m so sorry about that ma’am. Let’s try to get that straightened out. What’s your name?”

You give her your information and watch as she types it on the keyboard, then clicks around on their computer system.

“Okay, I see we have you in room 419. Is that what you were told before?” she inquires.

“Yes,” you respond. “It looks like someone must have made a mistake with the other guest then, because he is insisting to me that 419 is his room.”

She clicks around some more and then states, “Well it looks like your reservation is for two adults. You and a Mr. Jacob Kiszka. We have a note here saying that you would be checking in separately.”

It’s at this moment that your blood begins to boil. In your head, you curse your best friend and her new husband, knowing that they are to blame for your current predicament. Even though they had pulled a few tricks in the past to try to get you and Jake together, you genuinely never would have expected them to go this far to couple you up. 

It’s not that you have any particularly negative feelings toward Jake. More than anything, you’re upset that your friends have so blatantly disregarded your multiple refusals to go out with him. You know that they fully believe that they have your best interest in mind, but it still bothers you that they think they know what you need better than you do.

It would be one thing if the room had two beds, but, of course, they purposefully booked one that only has a single king-sized bed. You feel your skin itching with nervousness at just the thought of sharing a bed with a flirt like Jake.

Exasperated, you tell the front desk worker, “That’s not going to work for me. Can you get me booked in another room, please?”

The pleasant woman moves the mouse around some more, and then a frown appears on her face. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, we don’t have any more rooms available tonight. Is there anything else I can do to make yours and Mr. Kiszka’s stay with us more comfortable?”

Blowing out an aggravated breath, you give her a tight-lipped smile and sigh, “No, thank you for your help.”

You hear her wish you a good night as you walk away, defeated. It’s one night, you tell yourself. It will be fine. 

When you re-enter room 419, Jake is exactly as you left him, lying on his back, phone in hand. Without looking up he concludes, “So they pulled a fast one on us, eh?” His voice is neutral, not giving away how he feels about the situation at all.

Dropping your bag on the table in the corner of the room, you gripe, “Ugh, yes. I really should have known better than to take them up on their offer. They’re pretty relentless, huh?”

“You’re not kidding,” he agrees. “I might be pissed if they were trying to set me up with any of the other bridesmaids, but I can tolerate you I suppose.” 

You give him a dry laugh in response and sit down to rid yourself of the uncomfortable high heels that you’ve been wearing for far too long. Your feet ache, and you release a relieved sigh when you’re free of the painful shoes. After that, you begin digging through your bag, pulling out your pajamas and toiletries and carrying them with you into the surprisingly roomy hotel bathroom.

Beginning the process of de-glamorizing yourself, you start by taking the obscene number of bobby pins out of your hair, then painstakingly run a brush through your heavily hairsprayed tresses. Next is your face, and you have to use multiple wipes to remove all of the make-up that is caked onto your skin.

It’s not until you’re fresh faced and finished brushing your teeth, ready to finally jump into the shower, that you realize that you’re not going to be able to get out of your dress on your own. The zipper is oddly placed on your back and there’s a hook and eye that’s just out of your reach. The other bridesmaids were there to help you get into it this morning, but now the only person available to assist you is Jake. Knowing what your options are, you spend a considerable amount of time attempting to get the garment off on your own, but it is to no avail.

Resigning yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to ask for his help, you trudge out of the bathroom and come to a stop next to the side of the bed that Jake has claimed. At your appearance, he peers up at you from his phone and gives you a curious look.

Spinning around so your back is to him, you request, “Can you help me get this thing off, please? I can’t reach.” For some ungodly reason, you feel the need to show him that your arms are too short to get to the fastenings, and you flail them around helplessly.

Jake chuckles at your demonstration, and then you hear the creak of the mattress springs as he rises from his spot on the bed. You weren’t actually expecting him to get up, thinking he would easily be able to do the job from his lounging position, so your bodies end up uncomfortably close when he stands behind you. You can feel the heat of his chest against your back for just a moment until you shuffle forward a bit to create some distance between the two of you.

Jake begins by sweeping your hair over your shoulder, his fingers delicately brushing the skin on the back of your neck in the process. His touch feels weirdly intimate, and it causes goosebumps to appear on your flesh where his fingertips are. You hope he doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t break the contact between your skin and his as he trails his fingers down your back to the top of the dress. When he reaches it, he takes hold of the seam, and his other hand comes up to smoothly drag the zipper down to its end, right below the band of your admittedly skimpy underwear. As he makes his way back up to the hook and eye, he allows his fingertips to glide up your spine, and you reflexively shiver. 

If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely are now. Jake deftly undoes the small hook and the dress falls open, the entirety of your back on display. You feel exposed, and your arms instinctively rise to keep the gown from revealing any more of your skin to Jake’s eyes. 

Not wanting to prolong the embarrassing  moment any longer, you take a step forward with the intent of returning to the bathroom. Your movement, however, is halted by Jake quietly exclaiming, “Hey, wait!”

Turning your head to face him, you raise your eyebrows and look at him questioningly.

He closes the distance between you again, and his hand reaches up to toy with the piece of jewelry that adorns your neck. In a husky voice, he asks, “Do you want me to take this off too?”

You had forgotten all about the necklace that your friend had given you as a bridesmaid gift, but Jake was right. It was fairly elaborate and would not be comfortable to sleep in, so it would definitely need to be removed. And while you could probably navigate getting it off on your own, you still find yourself nodding at Jake to accept his offer. 

Whirling back around, you use one hand to gather up your hair and hold it in a knot at the back of your head, giving Jake easier access to the clasp. Your other hand continues to clutch the front of your gown to your chest, the thin straps not doing much to maintain your modesty. 

Jake inches even closer, and again, you feel his body heat against your back. You hate to admit it, but the proximity makes your breathing speed up significantly. With nimble fingers, he grasps the chain and swiftly undoes the clasp, catching the heavy piece of jewelry in one hand.

Dropping your hair, you spin to face him and take the necklace from his extended palm. You look up and see that the smirk from earlier is painted on his face once again. Cheeks burning, you 

mumble a shy, “thank you,” before fleeing to the bathroom.

Regretfully, your thoughts drift to Jake while you’re in the shower. Standing under the spray with your eyes closed, you can’t help but visualize his form lounging on the bed in that unbuttoned shirt and those perfectly fitted dress pants, and then that leads you to relive the moment you shared not even ten minutes ago of him helping you out of your dress. Then your imagination runs a little wild and you have to force yourself to push him out of your mind before it goes too crazy.

By the time you’re rinsing the last bits of conditioner out of your hair and turning off the water, the tiredness from the long and hectic day has totally crashed over you. You can barely keep your eyes open as you comb the knots out of your hair and pull on the loose t-shirt and short shorts that comprise your pajamas.

Deciding to forego drying your hair in favor of getting to sleep sooner, you leave your belongings scattered on the vanity and traipse out of the bathroom, rubbing your eyes tiredly. The first thing your eyes land upon once they clear is Jake’s nearly naked form, slightly bent over and rifling through a small bag, his back to you. The pieces of his suit that he was still wearing when you last saw him have been discarded and hung up in the open coat closet, and his form-fitting navy boxer briefs are now the only article of clothing left on his body.

Though you’re ashamed to admit it, you ogle his ass for a good few seconds until he abruptly stands straight up, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. You’re sure you resemble a deer in headlights when he spins on his heel and catches sight of your wide eyes practically drilling holes into his scantily clad figure. A smug grin tugs at his lips and you quickly avert your gaze to the floor.

Not embarrassed in the least, Jake struts past you and into the bathroom that you just vacated, swinging the door closed with a loud click. A second later, you hear the faucet turn on.

Shaking yourself out of your daze, you flick on both of the bedside lamps and turn off the overhead light on the ceiling, a softer glow replacing the harsh brightness of the room. Even though you don’t appreciate his arrogance, you don’t want Jake to trip and fall on his pretty face when he exits the bathroom because the room is too dark. 

You then plug your phone into the outlet next to the bed, and, finally, pull back the covers of the side of the mattress that has not been claimed by Jake. Climbing in, you turn on your side so that you’re facing away from the middle of the bed and scoot yourself almost to the edge, moving around until you’re comfortable. While you’re mature enough that you would never make Jake sleep on the floor when the bed is perfectly large enough for both of you, you do NOT want there to be any unnecessary contact between the two of you in said bed. Hence you confining yourself to a small space as far away from Jake’s side as possible. 

Tugging the plush covers up to your chin, you allow your eyes to fall shut, and you are almost instantly overtaken by sleep. Your slumber doesn’t last long, however, because you’re awoken by the sound of the bathroom door opening and Jake padding back towards the bed. Your eyes snap open and you watch him, still clothed in only his underwear, come to your side of the bed and switch off the lamp, then walk to his own side and turn off the lamp there.

The glow of the moon is the only source of light as he lifts up the comforter and plops his nearly nude body unceremoniously between the sheets. He shifts around a bit, then exhales a loud breath when he finds a comfortable position. You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face as he turns his head to you on his pillow and says in a sickly sweet voice, “Good night, sweetheart.”

Too tired to respond, you give him a grunt of acknowledgement and close your eyes, praying you can fall asleep as quickly as you did the first time. It seems like you only listen to the rhythmic sound of Jake’s breathing for a few minutes before you slip into unconsciousness.

⏭

It’s still dark in the room when you awaken a few hours later. You’re lying on your side with your arm in an uncomfortable position, and you can feel the sensation of pins and needles traveling throughout the limb. On top of that, you are entirely too warm, an unidentified heat source attached to your back.

It only takes a few seconds for the sleepy fog in your brain to clear and for you to realize that the source of your discomfort is a body. More specifically, Jake’s body. And not only is he cuddled up against you, he also has an arm thrown over your waist and a leg slung over your thigh, holding you snugly against him. You’re not sure how you ended up like this, but you know that you need to move now. Meer acquaintances do not snuggle like this.

Without much thought, you make an attempt to slip free from his clutches and migrate back to your side of the bed. Jake’s hold on you is so tight though, that you’re hardly able to move an inch. The little bit that you are able to shift, however, has made you acutely aware of the fact that there is something rigid poking your backside, and it twitches slightly as you wriggle against it. 

At first, the discovery of Jake’s boner pressing against you has you feeling ridiculously embarrassed. You can feel your cheeks heat up and your breathing quicken, and the combination of your absolute mortification and his body heat has you sweating.

You try again, a bit more forcefully this time, to break free from Jake’s grip, but it is to no avail. Your stirring must disturb him just a little, though, because he emits a low groan from his throat, then uses the arm around your waist to pull you even closer to him. 

Quickly, your embarrassment turns to annoyance. You’re annoyed because you wouldn’t be in this predicament if you’d just taken it upon yourself to book your own hotel room. You’re annoyed because you could have asked one of the other bridesmaids to let you sleep in their room, but you decided to just bite the bullet and share with Jake for this one night instead. You’re annoyed because you made it a point to stay on your side of the bed, and you still somehow ended up in Jake’s clutches. You’re annoyed because your best friend and her new husband would have a field day if they could see you and Jake right now. But mostly, you’re annoyed because Jake’s hardness against your ass has your head swimming with thoughts that you definitely should not be thinking, and your thighs squeezing together in search of some sort of relief from the sudden rush of arousal between your legs.

It’s this overwhelming feeling of irritation that leads you to growl out, “Jake,” in an attempt to wake him.

Your efforts result in nothing. Not even a stir. He continues to snuggle you and sleep peacefully.

Raising your voice even more, you slap his arm lightly and bark, “Jake!”

Once again, he does not respond. The man sleeps like a log, apparently.

His lack of a response only fuels the aggravated fire in you, and so you turn your head towards his and shout, probably too loudly, “Jake! Let me go!”

Finally, in reaction to your yelling, Jake’s body jumps and his eyes pop open in alarm. He looks around in confusion for a second and his arm leaves your waist briefly to rub at his still partially closed eyes, but he returns it to the same spot as he questions, “Jesus, babe. Why are you yelling? Go back to sleep.” His voice is gravelly and you watch as he closes his eyes again as soon as he gets the words out.

You balk at both his nonchalance and the pet name he called you. You shouldn’t be surprised at either, but you are.

Squirming against him again, you agitatedly snap, “Are you going to let me go, or do you plan on holding me captive all night?”

From behind you, Jake hums against the back of your head and flippantly states, “I don’t know what the issue is, babe. I’m very comfortable like this.”

You’re positive that, even though he’s hardly  awake, there is a smirk marring Jake’s features at your current lack of composure. The thought makes you clench your jaw in ire.

“The issue,” you start, through gritted teeth, “is that your dick is literally poking my ass. Now, let me go.”

Wordlessly, Jake flops from his side onto his back, ridding you, at last, of the arm and leg that were holding you against him. As soon as you’re free, you scramble as far as you can away from him and flip to your back as well, hoping to improve the circulation in your arm that had fallen asleep. 

“Please try your best to stay on your own side,” you request tersely. He just hums in response.

Despite being free and more comfortable now, you are unfortunately still wide awake, mind racing and incredibly (disturbingly) turned on. You stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to will away the throbbing of your clit that has only seemed to become more intense since you separated from Jake. You curse him in your head for having this effect on you. 

A few minutes pass and you decide to chance a glance at him, curious if he already fell back asleep or is lying wide awake like you. Slowly, as to not raise his suspicions, you turn your head on the pillow to look, and immediately regret doing so.

Neither you nor Jake had thought to shut the curtains before climbing into bed, and the moon is shining particularly bright tonight. Bright enough that Jake’s form is illuminated next to you, and you can clearly see that he is still hard. A sizable tent is present in the thin sheet covering him from the chest down, and he is lying with his arms stretched upward, hands cradling his head, and eyes wide open. He is taking deep breaths, seemingly trying to calm himself down. 

The sight does NOT help quell your arousal in the slightest, and you know you need Jake and his erection to vacate the premises before you combust. You know you shouldn’t say the words before they even come out of your mouth, but the suggestion falls past your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Maybe you should, like, go take care of that or something.”

Jake’s head whips toward you. The moonlight reveals raised eyebrows, but then the dreaded smirk appears. Again. You really cannot fathom how he can be so shameless and confident at a time like this. 

He takes some time to consider your recommendation, then retorts, “Actually, I was hoping maybe you would help me out…”

A noise that’s something between a strangled cackle and a sputter leaves your throat at his proposal. You give him a look as though he has lost his damn mind, and disbelievingly croak, “Excuse me?!”

Jake is undeterred. “Come on, babe,” he goads. “We both know that the sexual tension between us is off the charts.”

Astounded, you gape at him for a second. The irritation you were feeling replaced by bewilderment. You truly do not know how to reply, and so you stutter out, “I-”

“Please don’t try to deny it,” Jake cuts you off. He sits up, reaches over to flick on his bedside lamp, and turns his body to face you before going on. “I see how you look at me sometimes when you think I’m not paying attention. I see how flustered you get when I flirt with you in front of our lovely friends. And I saw how you reacted when I touched you earlier. You got goosebumps the second I laid my han-”

“Okay, okay, okay,” you interrupt, having heard enough. But Jake’s not done.

“You can’t tell me that you don’t find me attractive, Y/N.”

And he’s right. You can’t say that. Because he’s probably one of the most beautiful humans you’ve ever laid eyes on. And even though you hate feeding into him, you aren’t a liar.

“I never said that,” you resolve, and Jake’s face lights up. “I just think that us hooking up could make things messy. Like, I don’t want to feel awkward if I try to hang out with my best friend and you’re there. Because let’s face it, we see each other all the time. How weird would having a one night stand make that?”

You’re proud of yourself for being able to coherently voice your thoughts and maintain your rationality. As much as your body may want to fuck Jake in this moment, your head is well aware of the implications a meaningless hook up with him would have.

Jake, apparently, does not understand the implications though, because he is staring at you with a perplexed look on his face. “Who said it would be a one night stand?” he asks, and his tone tells you that he isn’t joking.

What does that mean? What does this man want from me? 

You involuntarily scrunch your face, then sit up as well. “I thought that was implied,” you admit, skepticism evident. “When we went out that one time, you were definitely more interested in a casual fuck than a relationship.”

Jake laughs and shakes his head. “Y/N, that was literally years ago.”

“And? What’s changed? I’ve seen how many girls you’ve gone through since then,” you counter, not buying that Jake is suddenly ready to commit to one person.

He emits a loud sigh. “Listen,” he begins, running a hand through his mostly straight brunette hair. “I realize my past behavior may be a little...off putting. But I have to tell you, I’ve been pissed at myself for scaring you off ever since that date we went on.”

You’re dumbfounded. It never even crossed your mind that Jake may have regretted how things between the two of you turned out. He certainly never gave you any hints that he was interested in you.

You want to ask him for further clarification, but he speaks again before you’re able to.

“I can tell that you want to ask me a million and one questions, but I really don’t think we need to make it that complicated. I’ll just say this: I like you. And I think maybe we should just...see where things go. No pressure.”

The suggestion is tempting. Especially the sex aspect. Your heat is practically begging for Jake’s touch at this point, the wetness starting to become uncomfortable. But the “seeing where things go” part has you feeling apprehensive.

Does that just mean that he wants to fuck you regularly? Like a friends with benefits situation? Or does that mean that he wants to, like, take you out on dates and be exclusive? You can’t say you would be opposed to that, but he’s being so...vague.

You decide to voice your apprehension out loud. “I don’t know, Jake…” you drawl, staring at the wall behind his head. 

Your fingers fidget with the hem of your pajama shorts, a visible display of your nerves, until Jake inches closer to you and takes your hands into his own. He uses his thumbs, calloused from years of playing guitar, to run gentle circles on the backs of your hands as he pleads, “Come on, Y/N, let me make you feel good.”

And you’re ashamed that that’s all it takes for you to give into him, but not even a second passes before you’re mumbling out a quiet, “okay,” and watching a smile, a genuine one, take over his face. Then you’re gracefully (you hope) climbing into his lap and wrapping your legs around his waist. At the same time, your arms find their way around his neck and his wind around your waist, hands settling on your lower back. 

Surprisingly, the two of you don’t dive into it right away. For what feels like multiple minutes, Jake just stares up at you and you stare back, both of you breathing heavily through parted lips. The tension in the room is palpable. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest, and its pace quickens even more when you become conscious of Jake’s erection, hard and warm and dangerously close to your heat.

Unable to refrain, you look down between your bodies and see just how close your sexes are, only an inch of space and a few thin layers of material separating your most intimate area from Jake’s. And suddenly the room feels 10 degrees warmer.

Spurred on by the sight, you dig your heels into the mattress and use the leverage to drag yourself even closer to him, so that your clothed core makes contact with his covered cock. At once, your nipples harden to stiff peaks and your hips instinctually rock forward.

This motion is the straw that breaks the camel’s back for Jake. A pained groan sounds from the back of his throat and then his hands are gripping the back of your head and he’s pulling your face down so he can fervently plant his lips on yours.

All of the remaining walls you had raised to protect yourself come crumbling down in that moment, and you kiss him back with just as much enthusiasm, consequences be damned. You would never confess out loud to having thought about this moment before, but in your head you think that his kiss is even better than you imagined. 

Hands gripping his hair, you allow him to suck on your bottom lip momentarily before thrusting your tongue in his mouth. It tangles with his and you feel tingles throughout your body. But unlike the tingling sensation you had experienced in your arm earlier from lack of circulation, this tingling is actually pleasant. You sigh into his mouth.

Jake’s hands find your waist and begin to explore under your flimsy pajama shirt, all while he continues to kiss you like his life depends on it. His fingers glide up your rib cage to just below your breasts, then back down again, leaving a trail of fire on your skin. Every time he does it, you hope he’ll venture higher, but he never strays from his path. 

Wanting nothing more than for him to pay your breasts some attention, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Pulling your lips away from his, you lean back the smallest amount and swiftly yank the shirt off your body, leaving your chest exposed to his greedy eyes. You toss it haphazardly to the floor and revel at the whine that comes from Jake at the unveiling of your bare tits. You feel butterflies in your stomach as he stares at them like they’re the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

When he meets your gaze again and asks, voice strained, “Can I?” you expect to feel his hands paw at your chest upon receiving your permission. Instead, you’re taken aback by the moist heat of his mouth enveloping your nipple, the suction he applies makes you toss your head back and moan. Loudly.

He works furiously at the tiny bud, alternating between flicking it with his tongue and sucking it between his perfect lips. It feels so good that your hips begin grinding against him on their own accord, your grip on his hair holding him to your chest. You know your underwear is probably soaked by now. Hell, your pajama shorts are probably soaked too. And you should be embarrassed, but Jake is making you feel so euphoric that you simply do not care.

Jake’s hands have moved to your ass, and it’s the small pinch he gives the flesh there that makes you loosen your grip on him slightly and look down at him. He releases your nipple with a small pop and pulls your face down to his again, giving you a brief, but still deep, kiss on the lips. Then, in stark contrast, he starts to trail feather light kisses down your jaw and neck, making his way to your other breast.

The two of you make eye contact as he takes that nipple into his mouth, and your jaw falls open at both the sensation and the sultriness of his gaze. Little whimpers sound from your throat as he pays just as much attention to it as he did to the opposite side. 

When Jake’s decided that he’s had his fill of your boobs, his lips move up to your collarbone and he leaves a decent sized hickey on the skin there. You fleetingly think that you’re going to have to cover it up before the bridal party brunch in the morning, but that thought disappears when Jake’s right hand seeks out your lower abdomen and his fingers sneak past the waistband of your shorts.

Much to your chagrin, he doesn’t let them slip into your underwear, instead choosing to rub you through the damp fabric of your panties. As soon as his thumb makes contact with your clit through the material though, you’re practically melting, core clenching in delight at the pressure. You choke out a gasp and allow your eyes to fall closed.

Jake doesn’t find this acceptable though, as he uses his free hand to grab your chin and coaxes, “Hey. Look at me.”

And so you do. You stare into his eyes, pupils so dilated that they are almost entirely black, while biting your lip and grinding against his hand as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite place, a softness that almost feels like adoration, and it makes your cheeks flush. He has definitely never looked at you like this before.

In what feels like no time at all, you’re dangerously close to your peak. Only a few more strokes of his thumb and you know you’ll be seeing stars. 

Then, right when you’re about to explode, Jake’s touch disappears. And while it may be dramatic, you really feel like you could cry from him ruining what was sure to be an amazing orgasm.

You’re about to voice your dissatisfaction, but Jake promptly removes his hand from your shorts and gives you a gentle smack on the ass.

“Lay down,” he demands raspily, patting the unoccupied area of the mattress to his side.

In a rush to have him touch you again, you do as he says and remove yourself from his lap, settling against the fluffy white pillows. You almost allow your hand to fall between your legs and pick up where he left off, but you refrain. 

Your eyes follow Jake as he lazily rises from the bed and saunters over to his bag, combing through it until he locates his wallet and produces a foil packet. Before he joins you back on the bed, he shoves his tight boxer briefs down his legs, kicking them to the side once they’re low enough. His erection springs free from its confines, and your eyes immediately lock onto it. From where you’re lying, you can see the pre-cum leaking from the tip, and your mind starts to feel hazy with desire.

You watch in awe as he circles his hand around his cock and gives it a few lazy strokes while he makes his way back to you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. The sight is downright obscene, and so is the noise you make in response.

When he crawls back onto the bed, he settles himself between your legs, and, without pausing, reaches for the waistband of your shorts. Looking to your face for permission, you give him a small nod and then he’s pulling both your shorts and your panties down your thighs and past your calves until they lie forgotten at the end of the bed.

Still on his knees, Jake inspects your nude body head to toe, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. He moves to stroke himself again, but you sit up a bit and reach for him instead, rubbing your palm from the tip of his dick to the base, shivering at the groan he releases from his throat.

He allows you to continue for a few more strokes, clearly enjoying himself, but then he’s batting your hand away, whispering “Not gonna last if you keep that up,” and slithering over your body, trapping your lips in a kiss and taking your breath away. 

You’re so caught up in the kiss that it takes you by surprise when his fingers find their way between your legs and he plunges two of them inside of you, alternating between pumping in and out and curling them so that they hit that one magical spot that makes your toes curl. He keeps his thumb busy on your clit, and his actions have you panting into the kiss, little whimpers passing from your mouth to his.

In no time at all, those whimpers turn into full blown moans, and you unintentionally break the kiss as you writhe against him. Taking the opportunity to kiss a path to your ear, Jake playfully bites at your lobe, then whispers, “Shit, you’re fucking drenched. So wet for my fingers. I can’t wait to fuck you.”

By now, you’re desperate for him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you, and so you scratch your nails lightly down his back and breathe, “Then do it. God, please.”

Jake doesn’t need any further prompting. Abruptly, he pulls back and reaches for the condom, tearing open the foil and rolling it on his perfectly sized (in your mind, at least) dick as you observe with hooded eyes.

Draping his body over yours, Jake encourages you to part your legs wider, and extends a hand to grip his cock. Teasing you, he rubs the head of his penis over your clit a few times, causing you to hiss. You can tell he wants to shoot you that infuriatingly sexy smirk, but the pleasure of the contact between you has his jaw hanging open instead.

When he does push into you, at last, you both breathe a sigh of relief. His eyes lock on yours as he finds a rhythm, slow and deep at first but gradually increasing in speed and pressure. There’s an undeniable fire between you as he thrusts his hips into yours, filling you and making you moan. 

The tender look in his eyes from earlier has returned, and you can’t help but melt into a puddle of pleasure and affection when he grunts out, “Fuck, you’re so beautiful. I’ve been thinking about this for so long.”

He kisses you again, tongue seeking out yours and battling with it, somehow heightening your senses even more. This doesn’t feel like just a kiss though, it feels like Jake is using his mouth to convey exactly how much he likes you, and you’re eagerly responding.

As he continues pumping into you, your hands land on his shoulders, squeezing every time he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of you. One especially hard thrust has you clenching around him, and Jake buries his face into your neck, groaning deeply. You can tell he’s close because his movements start to become a bit erratic, and thinking about Jake coming has you close to your climax too. 

And it’s like Jake can read your mind, because as soon as you start feeling like you need just a little bit more to push you over the edge, he uses his arm to hook your right leg and raise it up, changing the angle in a delicious way. That, in combination with his thumb finding your clit and applying some much needed pressure, has you crying out his name, your orgasm shuddering through you in waves.

He’s not far behind you, giving a few more sloppy thrusts before his face is overtaken by pleasure and he’s cursing, collapsing on top of you.

The two of you lie like that for a moment and catch your breath, his weight fully on top of you and his head resting on your chest, and it’s scary how much you enjoy it. How right it feels. When you do part ways momentarily so that you both can clean up, you feel a strange pang in your heart that dissipates as soon as you’re back in bed and in his arms. 

And while a part of you wants to check in with Jake, see how he felt about what you just did, ask more questions about his current stance on relationships, you decide to let it go for the time being and just enjoy the moment. As you cuddle into him and fall back asleep for the few short hours you have left in this hotel room, you think to yourself that, while you’re not thrilled about having to admit to your best friend and her new husband that they were right, you’re more than just a little excited to “see where things go” with Jake.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

So I watched 10.09 recently, and it has that part where Dean tells a story about him basically being almost roofied as a teen, but somehow it ends up framed as the funny joke and yet another proof that John "did what he could", and I kind of hate this? And it's the same episode in which MoC!Dean killed guys that kidnapped and tried to rape Claire, and you'd think writers would've addressed the parallels and acknowledge that Dean could've been triggered by this situation. 1/2

2/2 But in the end, it's never addressed, and the whole situation is framed as the proof that Dean is evil now. And I'm not even sure what I am trying to say, but with that being the show's approach back in s10, I'm not surprised about the finale anymore. Guess we should've known?

That’s an excellent angle to look at the issue because the Mark of Cain arc is a clear example of how people with different experiences will see the same thing in wildly different ways. There’s this phase of season 10 where everyone is like “oh no Dean is Getting Worse” and when you look at what Dean is doing... you actually go “...good for him”.

Let’s give Caesar what belongs to Caesar. It’s not “the writers” in this case, it’s Dabb. Plenty of other writers don’t fall into this John apologism thing. Just look at how the episode before Lebanon, written by Buckner and Ross Leming, says that sometimes John would temporarily kick Dean out because he was “pissed at him” despite Dean always taking his side to mantain the peace. It almost seems like a statement to sprinkle some salt given what Dabb does in Lebanon, you know? Maybe not, but there is a tension between “John was shitty” writers and “John did his best” writers.

In hindsight, we gave Dabb too much of the benefit of the doubt. We were like, weeell, that’s supposed to be way the characters perceive the truth, which is distorted by the trauma... But now it’s obvious that he truly believed in the John-did-his-best version. He brought him back and got Mary back with him. No matter what happened to the finale, the network didn’t print those pictures of John and Mary to hang on Sam’s wall. He never took Dean’s abuse seriously and it shows.

The “anedocte” of Dean getting drugged and “saved” by John from being raped is obviously there to parallel him with Claire. Which works! It’s so weird because it’s like. You are soooo close to getting the point. Younger Dean was assaulted just like this teenage girl is assaulted and Dean saves her... but apparently John yelling at those people is a good way of dealing with the issue, while murdering child traffickers is an overraction thus bad.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? That Dean’s murder spree is framed as an overreaction. Sam is like “tell me you had to do this! tell me it was you or them!” - the answer to which (by the narrative) is obviously no, it wasn’t self defense, he just killed them because he could. He just murdered those men for no reason except he felt like being murdery. And the audience is supposed to be like “oh no! Dean is murdery for no reason except for murderiness! That’s bad!”.

But it’s a power fantasy, isn’t it? Going on a murder spree on rapists and traffickers. I bet any people who’s been violated like that has fantasized of doing the exact thing Dean does here. Killing them all.

Dean had the physical strength and skill to kill them all, why shouldn’t he kill them? (I mean, in real life I’m against private justice because I’m a fan of the state of law, but the Supernatural universe obviously works on different principles than the state of law. Again, it’s a fictional narrative that plays out as a fantasy for the audience, so.)

So what was Dabb’s intention? I’m afraid it’s the worst one. “John Winchester’s not going to win any Number One Dad awards, you know? But, you know, damn if he wasn’t there when we needed him”. What the fuck, Dabb? It’s been established since season 1 that John WASN’T there when they needed him. Which... I’m afraid... leads us to the Cas-Claire plot in the episode. Cas has fucked off with Jimmy’s body leaving Claire on her own. Parallels how John wasn’t going to win wny Number One Dad awards. But! Cas is there when Claire Really Needs Him i.e. when she’s about to be raped by older men. Parallels how John was there when Dean Really Needed Him i.e. when he was about to be raped by older men.

I think the point is to say, Cas kinda sucked because he took Claire’s dad away but hey! He’s actually a good figure for Claire because he gets there in time to prevent her from being raped. Just like (ew) John kinda sucked as a father because hunting and stuff, but hey! He’s actually a good figure for Dean because he got there in time to prevent him from being raped.

It’s pretty yucky. Literally NOBODY wanted a parallel between Cas and John. But he made one. And he made one to absolve Cas from the guilt he carried for what he did to Claire (Claire’s mother is a mother so who fucking cares about her. She’s basically a Blurry Wife(TM), she’s only a tool for Claire’s arc, Cas apparently only cares about the harm he did the child, not the wife, for some reason.) and to absolve Cas from his guilt it absolves John too. Don’t worry, being a parent is hard. You often screw up. But you can *looks at smudged writing on hand* prevent the kid from being raped by predatory adults and everything’s fine now.

It’s not really important if the child suffered hunger or whatever, the only important thing is that they don’t get raped, because that’s bad, everything else is just a little detail.

All Dabb got with that scene was to paint Sam as extremely unsympathetic because he’s no longer a child, he’s a full adult now and still thinks of that episode at the CBGB as a funny story. That’s not a good look. It almost makes you think that the writer himself saw it as a funny story. Lol teenage boy biting more than he can chew. But then why the Claire parallel? The Claire scene onviously is not supposed to be anything but horrific. I'll give Dabb the benefit of the doubt on this specific thing.

It’s weird, yes, because Dabb wrote Dark Side of the Moon where he establishes that John was a bad husband/father even before tragedy hit the family. But apparently that’s the “not going to win any Number One Dad awards” part, I suppose? I guess he intended to write John as this flawed, ~complex~ figure who was imperfect but still brave and whatever blah blah did his best blah blah. I’m all for flawed complicated characters but a horrible father is a horrible father. A rose by any other name... parental abuse is still parental abuse even if the poor guy was complicated and traumatized and did what he thought he had to do to prepare his sons for a violent world.

Also, the story frames Dean’s escapade as a teenager being stupid. “You know what he got for that? Me whining about how much he embarrassed me. Me telling him that I hated him. But then he stopped and turned around looked at me and said, Son, you don’t like me? That’s fine. It’s not my job to be liked.” “It’s my job to raise you right.” This seems straight from a novel about teenagers doing something stupid that they’re too young to realize that their parents are right to be against them doing. But this isn’t just... a parent walking into a bar to stop their child to drink alcohol. Dean literally describes feeling sick from something that was inside the alcohol.

Sure, it makes sense that he’d lash out to John because of the shame and shock. But the scene is... off. Are we supposed to see this as a typical teenage mistake? Are we supposed to read it as something as horrific as what happened to Claire, literally sold into rape? Or, worse, are we supposed to see what happened to Claire as a teenage mistake, ah silly teenager, blindly trusting shady people, no wonder you end up in a situation where you’d get raped if a father figure didn’t sweep in and save you. I hope that wasn’t the intent.

To get back to Dean’s Mark-of-Cain violence, the writers clearly didn’t intend it to come from the Darkness up to a certain point. It was supposed to an arc about your own inner darkness (consider the Charlie episode, a couple episodes later). Then they came up with the idea of The(TM) Darkness, the suppressed cosmic feminine. While it caused a bit of dissonance in the subtext, it doesn’t really change Dean’s narrative, because his inner darkness is the trauma, and his trauma is inherebtly tied to the “feminine” i.e. the parts of him that don’t fit seamlessly into the scheme of toxic masculinity values. That the violence that comes from the Mark of Cain comes from Dean himself and that’s it, or is connected to the Darkness, it doesn’t change what it means for Dean. Dean and Amara have parallel histories, the feminine principle locked away, the trauma the anger stems from.

In 10x09 we’re still in the Before The (TM) Darkness era, before the suppressed cosmic feminine. The Mark of Cain arc is still about... well, Cain. But the shift is the signal that someone looked at Dean’s arc and said... you know what? “Lucifer gave me this curse so now I’m demonic and murdery” is meh. “Toxic masculinity suppresses the feminine and it creates trauma which rage and violence comes from” is more interesting. I don’t know whose idea it was, but it was a good idea, and surely the idea came from seeing how Dean’s MoC narrative was unfolding.

Dean’s MoC narrative was unfolding in a certain way, in fact, because of a pretty simple reason. There’s a fundamental tension in Dean’s MoC arc. We want him to go murdery, but it’s also our main character, so we don’t want him to do really horrible things because he still needs to be relatable. The audience cannot hate him, so he must NOT do something entirely unforgivable. He still needs to be somewhat relatable, even when demonic or demonic-adjacent.

So he goes on a murder spree... but it’s rapists and child traffickers. He’s demon, but he kills a misogynistic dude that wanted his wife dead for cheating on him. He’s a demon, but beats up dudes that harass women. He does a slaughter, but they’re nazi. He’s off the deep end, but works a case of kidnapped and abused young women...

Speaking of which. 10x23, written by Jeremy Carver. Dean works a case where a girl was killed while dressed scantily and Dean makes some slut-shaming remarks, and we’re supposed to think “whoa Dean, that’s bad”. But later he confronts the girl’s father and what does he say?

I’m just doing my job, Mr. McKinley.

By suggesting my daughter was a slut?

I’ll admit that thought crossed my mind. Then I came here, and I smelled the deceit and the beatings and the shame that pervade this home.

You shut your face right now.

And you know what? I don’t blame Rose anymore. No wonder she put on that skank outfit and went out there looking for validation, right into the arms of the monster that killed her.

Back then the episode was super controversial and everyone hated the case because of the apparent slut-shaming but I loved it! Because it’s not about the girl. It’s about Dean. Dean doesn’t think that a girl gets killed because she dresses in a miniskirt so it’s her fault. Dean is projecting on himself and he’s not actually victim blaming the girl, he’s victim blaming himself. And when he absolves the girl by putting the blame on the father... well, subtextually he’s absolving himself by putting the blame on his father. On the deceit and the beatings and the shame that pervaded his own home. He’s textually not ready to absolve himself, of course, he summons Death to ask him to kill him later, but subtextually he’s on the right path.

Rose McKinley basically did the same mistake Dean did at the CBGB when he trusted some older people who offered him drinks and the same mistake Claire did when she trusted a man who sold her for money because he offered him a place and stability. She trusted the wrong people (in this case, vampires, which adds the whole subtext of vampires and sexuality) who took advantage of her. Except Rose had no one to save her. (Her friend, Crystal, gets rescued by Dean, even if he causes the other hunter Rudy to die in the process.)

Carver’s writing is pretty brutal. The girl made that mistake because was abused at home, so she was desperate for validation and that desperation drove her into the wrong hands. (Rose even has a brother who blames himself for bringing her sister to her future murderers, destructive sibling relationship check.) It doesn’t actually even matter if Dean guessed right about Rose’s family situation, because what matters is what it tells us about Dean. He basically relates to a dead abused girl. Actually all through the season Dean is paralleled to “skanks” “sluts” and sex workers. Obviously this happens kinda all through the show, the whole “the business is based on absent fathers” thing happened much earlier in the story, so it’s not new. But s10 draws a picture of female suffering - abuse, manipulation and death. Season 10 was difficult to go through. In hindsight, it was probably on purpose because it was supposed to be darkest hour of the feminine. Summed with some good old fashioned misogyny, but hey.

The Carver era was wonky but Carver wanted to free the feminine. (I believe that Mary’s comeback, while written by Dabb because of the showrunner shift, was planned before the showrunner shift.) We thought the Dabb era wanted the same, with Mary choosing life and Amara being independent and so on, but it evidently wasn’t the case. Not a single woman arrives at end of the story. It’s hardly ~Bucklemming or ~the network or ~covid because it starts before the very end.

I’m not saying that dead sluts are more feminist than living women, but if the women die or disappear anyway (and they did) I’d rather have an exploration of trauma than nothing. And I definitely prefer a dead slut narrative that calls out parental abuse than a narrative where women live but abuse gets the you-did-your-best treatment.

Whoops! I digressed! But feel free to ask for any clarification or send me any observation or thought.

[etherealxgenie]

Why Lila is Marinette’s Own Fault || Miraculous Why?

(Before I begin, note that this is my opinion over the topic and am no way am bashing anyone’s love for the ship and/or character. I respect who and what you like, therefore expect the same courtesy. However, if this is something you cannot handle, please click the back button as this will be a heavily discussed topic. No flames allowed. Other than that, enjoy.)

So usually in the story, there’s always one or two mean girls who is out to get the main character for some kind of superior reasons to justify. And there’s no reason as to why they act this way just for the sake of being mean.

Like the Ashleys from “Recess”, who tend to pick on kids just for the fun of it sometimes or cause they’re popular.

Same can go for Libby from “Sabrina The Teenage Witch” who was out to get something for what she wants or just to be superior to the other kids in school.

For Miraculous, we already have that kind of character, Chloe Bourgeois, who is the daddy’s girl of the Mayor to get what she wants. And until we had some small character development in season two (which season 3 took it away!!), we had no reason feeling sorry for her and she was just for the convenient plot in the social life for Marinette in the series.

And then… there’s Lila.

Before I get into hand in this, let me note that Lila is not a good person at all in the show. She’s a liar, a manipulator and will do whatever she can to get what she wants. She breaks into homes, steals and molests pretty models. She’s been pretty shown to be just selfish without consequences and unless we get a background story of why she acts this way, she has no excuse. Especially when she teams up with hawkdaddy to now have permission to invade and spy on Adrien whenever she wants? Fuck that.

So in Volpina, Lila is introduced as this pathological liar to get attention in season one. She obviously goes for Adrien cause he’s the famous model after all. Reasonable considering as the new person looking for attention, you seek out the most popular/famous person in the school. That would Adrien.

Though considering with her connections, it would’ve been smarter to try and impress Marinette instead if Lila did her research before she came into the scene. But of course, new person so she wouldn’t know, but whatever.

And we can see Lila easily just says things just to get Adrien’s approval and such.

And so, Marinette follows them around (stalking? really?) because Tikki points out Lila has the book Adrien took from his father’s vault and threw it in the trash.

Now the SMART thing to do would’ve been to see how Adrien would handle the situation and wait for him to leave, if to acknowledge Adrien has a mind of his own and knows when to walk away (which he does). Or at the very least, try to distract them as Marinette while Tikki retrieved the book.

But… no. You transform into Ladybug to lash out at a girl PUBLICALLY, for anyone including Adrien to hear, just to embarrass her and call her out on her lying because she… “hates liars”.

Marinette, you fucking lie ALL the time! Most of those times to Adrien! And I’m not just talking about when in regard to being Ladybug, you hypocritical- (groans)

I can list plenty of episodes: Gamer, Aninmaestro, Ikari Gozen and hell, even Reverser counts! If she hadn’t lied about Marc’s book, Nathaniel wouldn’t have torn it! (sighs)

And before you all start jumping at me saying Lila got what she deserves, I only agree partially. Ladybug, as a public figure and heroine, practically the face of Paris, acted irrationally lashing out at a bystander because of lies which were or were not believable. Lila was broadcasting a post or making the news, she was trying (poorly) to impress a boy. Ladybug gave Lila the Regina George treatment.

Yeah, so you caused an akumatized situation and Lila hates your guts. Hell, I would hate you too. That’s like a celebrity jumping at an innocent bystander when they’re whispering to their friend about a rumor that only the two of them were talking about. You can’t jump to try and stop them and should just let it dispel on its own. At that point, Lila had no real power but you just influenced her.

And… oh boy did things get worse because of this.

Look season 3 was trash (except for moments in certain episodes) and I feel talking about the infamous ‘Chameleon’ physically hurts me but… yeah gotta point out a few things. The whole episode was unrealistic, and it was an obvious ploy to be sympathetic to Marinette with Lila back… but… you’re not fooling me.

So, Lila is still on her lying game, being able to fool the students and the staff?! Okay if you believe a student has so many disabilities without any paperwork proof, you can actually get fired for that for fraud. As someone who worked with education before, that’s just pure incompetence.

So yeah, Marinette comes to school seeing the seats changes to accommodate Lila and upright begins to plot to discredit her for her lies. UM… what happened to trying to start over with Lila after failing to do so the first time?

Oh, that’s right. She gets that way (at least partly) because Lila is sitting next to Adrien. I can understand if it was because they rearranged the seating without her say so but let’s face it. Lila sitting next to Adrien was her real trigger.

So since Marinette failed to acknowledge her mistake the first time, she spends all day trying to prove Lila is lying and in return the class is angry at her. Alya even comes to point out that Marinette is jealous of Lila.

And you know what? Alya is right.

Alya knows at least what Marinette is capable of doing so when it comes to Adrien and how far she’s willing to go. Remember that Alya is the one who encouraged her to break into his locker and steal his phone. So of course, she’s worried Marinette is gonna do something to the new girl.

I don’t blame Alya for doing one of the most competent things in the show: Warning Marinette to NOT go off the handle without proof and not make herself look bad in the process.

And because Marinette failed to do so… she made Lila her enemy AGAIN. It was bad enough you had her as your enemy as Ladybug, but now you get to deal with twice the drama!

Your own fucking fault, Marinette.

Also, the advice Adrien gave? I don’t blame for him for it and neither should you. Yes, his advice is not perfect, but with the options he has on his plate, its hard to do something otherwise.

For every encounter Adrien has had with Lila, it ended up with her being akumatized or a disaster no matter how he tried to handle her. We didn’t get to see how he would resolve in Volpina because of Ladybug’s intervention, but he would try at least in Chameleon and try to get her to see she didn’t need to lie and actually tried to befriend her. At this point, Lila was already triggered by Ladybug and Marinette so she just might have to take Adrien by force instead.

At that point, Adrien just wants to stay away and which he was trying to tell Marinette don’t interact with Lila or confront her cause there’s no way to do so at this point. Maybe he was trying to tell her to wait until her rumors got discredited, but he didn’t say it clear enough for her to understand.

And keep in mind, Adrien is a sheltered child with little to zero social skills taught to him by Nathalie and Gabriel. Hell, we don’t know how his childhood was really like even with Emelie around either and Adrien seems more like the pacifist unless he needs to absolutely step in. And he did by cleaning up Marinette’s mess in ‘Ladybug’. So now he’s gotta suffer being around Lila more because of Marinette making Lila her enemy.

But once again, this is bad writing as the writers of the show obviously forgot what it’s like to live in reality. In the real world, Lila would be immediately discredited without any proof the moment she came back. Not to mention, some of the class have their own connections and have more braincells proven in the previous episodes. Google search and such. A 5-year-old wouldn’t believe these lies in these times. Hey, I believe that because I once had a kid in kindergarten during my time as an afterschool art teacher look at one of my books I illustrated before and said they liked the ‘graphics’.

Kids are fucking smarter nowadays than you think.

The only reason anyone would believe Lila’s lies is if she’s magically influenced with some kind of ‘silver tongue’ spell or something and honestly? It looks like that’s the reason.

I dunno if Thomas Astruc or Zag is trying to insult the kids/adults or insult themselves to say Paris people aren’t that smart. If it’s the latter, you should see what you are doing because I don’t want to believe that because that’s disrespectful.

I know it seems I’m trying to stand up for Lila this portion, but I’m just looking things in a  more realistic and logical way. Did Lila take things too far? Yes, waaaayyy too far and should be arrested for it since she works for Hawkmoth. But it could’ve been handled better and that makes Marinette at fault too.

Part of me wonders if she’s done this before because in Zombiezou, she also causes Chloe to ruin her gift for Ms. bustier. If Marinette didn’t antagonize Chloe in the locker in front of the class, maybe she wouldn’t have done anything. Again, I’m not saying Chloe was justified, but if that was the reason, yeah I can see her doing it for payback.

So to all those fics where I’m supposed to be ‘Boo-hoo’ for Marinette because of what Lila did? Fuck you guys because you need to dig deeper into the story to see both sides and not just make it a pity party where Marinette is the innocent victim.

It’s called “Cause and Effect”.

And considering she made Lila her enemy, Marinette is gonna get effected enough because that’s how karma works.

[c-is-for-circinate]

Thinking today about viruses, allergies, oppression, and anti culture.

(under a cut because WHOOOPS this got long)

Racism is a virus. Homophobia, transphobia, sexism, antisemitism, ableism, etc etc etc, they are all viruses--a topic that many of us have learned a great deal about in the past year. They are ideas, yes, not literal physical diseases, but the analogy holds up. They are infectious, and often spread from person to person without anyone involved realizing they have it. They can sit latent for years, never showing up because the carrier never finds themselves in a situation where the issue comes up, only to flare up and take over when you least expect it. And they mutate, just like the flu, just like the common cold; they put on a new jacket every year and slide in undetected yet again, slip past our internal sensors and bury themselves in our brains until we go in and deal with them as best as we can.

One more thing we've learned about viruses this year is how we can fight them. The viruses of oppression are a little different because they tend to hurt the people around their carriers even more than the people they've infected (although let's talk about internalized anything-ism sometime), but in a lot of ways the attack is the same. You treat the symptoms even when you don't know how to cure the disease: we invest in respirators, antiviral treatments, hospitals; we create and sponsor programs to help those who've been hurt by various oppressions, we uplift our neighbors, we try to keep people safe from violences both big and small. You work to stop the spread: we wear our goddamn masks, we stay home when we can; we train ourselves not to say racist shit that might foster a culture of hate, we stop that guy in our office from making rape jokes, we make slurs unacceptable. You pay attention to your immune system: we seek medical attention when we experience symptoms, we get COVID tests, we talk to our doctors before the symptoms get deadly; we protest and we pay attention to the people who do, we take them seriously when they tell us that something is wrong.

You vaccinate. We train ourselves and our immune systems to recognize the thing that infects us, the thing that we fear. We try to teach our children about history, bit by little bit, on fragments of dead violence the same way we train our bodies on dead virus shells, so that someday they'll recognize the live disease when they see it. We learn about slavery and Jim Crow and the Holocaust. We tell kids bedtime stories about why hitting and bullying is bad, before we ever start teaching them the specific shapes that violence so often takes. As we get older, as we get stronger, we learn about the living stuff, all the new forms that same old virus has mutated into; we educate ourselves, we listen, we read. Just like vaccines, of course, there are anti-vaxxers and denialists shouting about how racism and sexism are already dead and they don't need any propoganda besides Fox News. Hell, just like anti-maskers, there are plenty of people screaming about how political correctness is ruining the world and they demand their right to spread their virus to anyone they can. Often these are the same people.

But we try. And make no mistake, we all of us are already infected, and just like a real virus, once you've caught it once it probably won't ever go away again--but we can prepare, and we can try to lessen the severity of our cases, and we can support our immune systems of activists and protesters and our own internal sense of this is wrong, and we can work, bit by bit, if not towards eradication (not yet, not in this world, but maybe someday in another), then at least towards control.

And then there's allergies.

An allergy is what happens when a human body's own immune system freaks out over an enemy that wasn't particularly harmful in the first place. All our immune defenses--those precious immune defenses, which work so hard to protect us against all those viral, deadly ideas--go screaming into high gear. All of that fear and fury and attack power gets brought to bear all at once, against a bit of pollen or bee venom or cat dander or peanuts, and your body is left itchy and runny-nosed and gasping--sometimes literally--as it tries to keep up. Allergies are miserable. Sometimes they're life-threatening. And the biggest danger isn't the foreign agent that triggers the allergic reaction; it's the immune system trying to fight it in the first place.

Which, yes, brings us to anti culture--but not JUST anti culture. It's a good example, a little internet-centric microcosm of the same force that drives progressives to tear bloody shreds out of moderate liberal politicians. Hell, it's the same force that enables both TERFs and the Capitol rioters. It's a combination of an immune system that points in the wrong direction, flagging the wrong thing as bad, terrifying, danger, NO, and a freaked-out response that can manifest as anything from mildly irritating to absolutely deadly.

To be clear, I am not by any means equating the scale or even the source of these things, any more than hayfever is the same as anaphylactic shock. Likewise, the sources are different. Sometimes, a disease can infect an immune system and point it in the wrong direction. (Terror of the other is the absolute cornerstone of white nationalism, and when that terror gets triggered by a harmless environmental condition like, god forbid, other people asking for rights, the allergy response can be deadly.) Other times, it's the other way around. Our internal immune systems, so well trained to protect ourselves and those around us from the insidious viral ravages of prejudice and oppression, start seeing traces of it everywhere.

And they freak out. And we suffer for it.

We talk a lot of well-deserved shit about TERFs, but it's useful to remember how much their nastiness feels to them like activism. Their immune system, trained and primed and sensitized over years of exposure to misogyny and sexism, catches the tiniest whiff of something that might seem at some point to have possibly been taken for male, and freaks out, because why is that trying to get into our system. Never mind that they're wrong. An immune system that flips out over penicillin is wrong, too. It's still trying to help, and it's still doing more harm than good trying it.

So bringing this back around to anti culture, which was absolutely where I started thinking about all of this this morning: anti culture, the terror of porn and the attempt by antis to protect themselves an other people from sexual content, is an immune response. It is a trained immune response, in people who have been taught and re-taught again and again that rape culture is a dangerous insidious virus that should be fought at all costs. And, right, there's more than a bit of 'the sexism virus infected this immune system and reprogrammed it to fight itself' involved here, but look, we are all of us infected with all of the viruses at least a little bit everywhere. If we tried to direct our immune systems to rip every last shred of -ism out of every last bit of us, we'd rip ourselves apart. Which is exactly the problem.

Porn, in and of itself, is natural. As natural as environmental pollen, and living near dogs and cats, and eating wheat or nuts or citrus fruit. It's even healthy, for a whole host of reasons that belong in another essay. And citric acid and nut-based proteins and whole grains are nutritious, and pets are physically and psychologically helpful, and being exposed to lots of different environmental substances as a child can actually help train your immune system in the first place. Porn can help us figure out what we like. It can help us figure out what we don't like. And while the processes that create it are sometimes unethical and awful, we don't condemn all dogs because puppy mills and dogfighting rings exist, even if we do have dog allergies.

What we see in anti culture is often a good-faith attempt on the part of antis to attack and subdue an environmental trigger that they read as dangerous. It's a panic attack over something that is by nature harmless or mildly harmful, blown out of proportion by the very instincts that are supposed to keep us safe. It's the response of an immune system that's been taught over years and years, by everyone from parents to school systems to the activists they look up to, that negative stimulus is to be feared, avoided, and fought. Of COURSE they're going to freak out.

And of course, early exposure to controlled amounts of allergens can help prevent later allergies from developing. Of course when kids are raised with abstinence-only education, sheltered from the very concept of sex, they're going to grow up allergic to it. (Of course they're going to try to protect other kids from the same, like worried mothers who refuse to let peanuts or wheat products or dirt near their precious babies, whose kids grow up with a whole suite of allergic triggers because their bodies never learned what was okay in the first place.) And no, that doesn't mean we hand pornography to ten-year-olds any more than we should give raw honey to an infant--but of course if our culture refuses to introduce kids to the fact that sex and desire and the inside of their own brain can be messy and silly and kinky and downright weird, we're going to have a higher rate of allergic reaction to the entire concept in adults.

I wish I had a better answer for what to do with understanding that this is what's going through so many people's brains. The best I have is a prescription for allergy-sufferers, who probably haven't read this far through this wordspew of an essay in the first place--but we all get a little hayfever once in a while, and we all sometimes run into content that makes us angry. So some thoughts on how to deal with metaphorical allergic reactions, inspired by the ways we deal with literal ones?

First: we recognize that what is happening is an allergy. The thing we're reacting to might be gross, or irritating, or even unpleasant, but the danger is not and never has been the thing itself. Whether it's triggering a response because of its similarity to an actively dangerous pathogen, or our immune system just doesn't like it, our aversion to one kind of story or another universally says more about us than about it. Luckily, we have a lot more control over our social responses than our biological ones!!! If vocal activism is our sociocultural immune system firing itself up to fight an infection that may or may not exist, then we get to tell our metaphorical white blood cells to stand down. We get to decide.

Second: we get some space. The funny thing about allergies is, while early exposure to allergens can help prevent them, re-exposing yourself to dangerous allergens after you've already developed a reaction to them can make them worse. Anaphylaxis is always more likely after someone's experienced it the first time. Repeated exposure to triggers, whether biological or psychological, can make the effects worse. So stop exposing yourself.

If something makes your throat itch every time you eat it, stop eating it. If something makes you mad every time you read it, stop reading it. Obviously this can be easier said than done in a world that's a lot worse about warning labels on stories than ingredients labels on foods, but that's why fic tags exist. And: sometimes, the croissant is delicious enough that we decide we're willing to suffer through the way the almonds make us feel, just this once. Sometimes the ship or the characterization or, hell, those other kinks that we really like are tasty enough that we'll put up with the trope we hate. We're allowed to do that. But we do it knowing there will be consequences, and we don't blame the baker when they hit.

We also don't have to blame ourselves. It sucks to be allergic to shellfish when all your friends are raving about the new seafood place. But that's not our fault any more than it's theirs.

Third: sometimes, if we need one, we go to the doctor. Or a therapist. Yes, really.

Not because there's anything really wrong with an aversion or even mild breakouts of hives, annoyance, and bitching in your friends' DMs--but it sure isn't pleasant, and sometimes your doctor might have a better solution than 'avoid it and take a Benadryl' that makes you feel a little better in the long run. And sometimes, it's not a mild breakout. Sometimes it's the kind of story that lingers with you for days, makes your skin crawl; sometimes your throat swells up and it gets hard to breathe. Sometimes we get angry enough about something we've read that we can't stand down our immune system, don't want to stop ourselves from writing that angry comment, that tumblr post, that abuse report to the mods for something that didn't actually break any rules. And that's dangerous, because when our immune response can flare out of control like that, we don't always know where and when it will happen next, and the risk of what we'll do if it happens gets way, way higher.

Sometimes it really is worth getting a second opinion. Sometimes you need somebody to tell you, "actually, it is not normal to get tingly and sweaty every time you eat potatoes." There are ways to train your brain and leash your white blood cells that I sure as heck am not expert enough to address. There are, it turns out, ways to feel better. There are ways to mitigate the damage your own well-meaning defense mechanisms might do to yourself or other people along the way.

And: we can take a deep breath when someone with an allergy to something we've baked, something we've written, something we like, is lashing out trying to protect themselves and everyone around them from something they've registered as a threat. Of course they're wrong. Yes, we told them there were tree nuts in the brownies ahead of time; yes, they chose to eat them anyway. But it can be worth reminding them and ourselves that there's a difference between "this thing is toxic" and "this harmless thing has driven my own system into a defensive response that sure makes it feel like I've been poisoned." And it can be worth reminding ourselves as well as them that sometimes, that difference can be really hard to spot.

[supercantaloupe]

on Aelwyn Abernant, the Reformed Villain Squad, and redeeming teenage antagonists

an analysis on antagonist character development in Fantasy High. spoilers through sophomore year and (mildly so) the most recent roll20 oneshot. essay under the cut bc i am very long winded

the turnaround with Aelwyn in s2 is handled so well  i cant get over it. she was such a major antagonist in the first season and just. despicable. she had no pathos. we hated this bitchy older sister who tried to kill Adaine and her friends and raise an evil dragon, and when she gets knocked on her ass and thrown in jail, we cheer.

and then s2 fucking starts saying “hey she’s in jail still if you’d like to look into that” and pursuing that thread ends up being almost as comedic an idea as it is a reluctant one; it’s also quickly shunted to the background as soon as more pressing leads present themselves, to the point where we almost forget about her until Adaine is kidnapped and then the first time you see her it’s just. viscerally upsetting.

she’s bad. she did evil. she got what she deserved.

but she already got what she deserved. last season.

she got her ass handed to her by a bunch of 14 year olds including her little sister (how embarrassing!). her plans were thwarted. she got punched in the face and made fun of. she already got her punishment.

it just……immediately registers as over-the-top Wrong to be told “hey, remember that antagonist you beat last season? she’s still being punished for that, except it’s way worse than just going to mumple.”

and there’s that reminder that like…this is a teenager. a child. who has been manipulated and abused. which is a really fascinating look at this character we used to see pretty much unilaterally as a one dimensional bitchy villain.

i mean we got a more in depth look at Penelope’s and Biz’s motivations in s1 (Penelope being the popular rich girl sorceress obviously hungry for power and the alllure of the high school clout that is being prom queen, but also we know that her having to turn on her best friend Sam Nightingale as part of the scheme was something she was reluctant and not happy to do; and Biz being that predatory incel creeper type dude besides just a nerd with computers and a lack of social graces). and they were as much willingly active in the plot as Aelwyn was. yet in s1 they really never do bother to explore Aelwyn’s motivations. i remember after watching s1 but before s2 that was one of my biggest lingering questions: why tf was Aelwyn involved?

well. she was manipulated and abused. her terrible parents raised her in an awful environment that conditioned her to Listen and Obey and Behave and Be Perfect, and then Kalina helped cinch the noose around her neck with threats and coersion into the KVS Kaper and the NMK crown debacle. she doesn’t freely choose any of it; she’s coerced, manipulated, abused.

and she already got justifiably punished for her bad actions in s1. the torture is almost literal overkill. it’s just……there’s this immediate turnaround in sympathy and view of the character. on first watch, it’s viscerally upsetting to see her getting so brutally punished for actions she already faced consequences for, and on rewatch, it makes your skin crawl to know she’s being tortured for terrible things she had little choice in carrying out. and tortured by some of the very same people who coerced her to behave terribly in the first place, to add insult to injury.

and it’s still fucking frustrating when they rescue her and her memory gets reset and she goes back to her parents because it’s like “well shit, she’s evil again, and we just wasted all that effort for nothing” but it’s also sad cause we know she’s running back to her abusers and she isn’t happy about it but doesn’t feel like she has a choice. and it’s sadder still that what eventually inevitably gets her to turn to good for good (i.e. away from her parents) is just. a full dissociative mental breakdown.

(but then she survives and it’s gonna be good!!! until Adaine dies in her fucking arms. which is. almost funny. she’s been through so much shit and that isn’t something that Brennan would have just. preplanned. like a written in plot point. no, that was just an unpredictable consequence of the battle. what a juicy fucking moment. she’s been through All That Shit™️ and has finally turned to fight for good and her sister just fully dies in front of her. yeowch)

and she turns out okay in the end. she comes out the other side alive and whole and supported by her sister and her friends, with the hope of a future and recovery. there is an acknowledgement that A) she can and will grow from her mistakes and damage, B) it’s going to be really hard, and C) the post-s2 one shots both prove that she’s doing okay now. hell, she has a whole squad now of other former-teenage-villains-turned-good-guys. she has friends now, Ragh and Zayn, with common ground, and a secret handshake and everything. they’ve all grown from the mistakes of their past into better, happier, healthier people

and about Zayn and Ragh. we’ve seen a lot of characters, protagonist and antagonist, teenage and adult, PC and NPC do some really fucked up shit and get punished for it. but why do they get happy endings? why are Aelwyn, Ragh, and Zayn the only members of the RVS and not someone else like Biz or Penelope or Dayne? 

well, the latter two are dead by then; but then again, Biz and Ragh were also killed by the Bad Kids in s1, and subsequently resurrected. (Zayn died too, but was neither killed nor revived at the Bad Kids’ hands, so i’ll get to him in a sec.) and there are plenty of adult antagonists the Bad Kids face who are killed and left that way by the Bad Kids without second thought: Johnny Spells, Coach Daybreak, Captain Wicklaw, the Abernant parents (presuming Arianwen doesn’t survive in the forest for very long, which i doubt). why do some characters get second chances while others don’t?

in the case of Zayn, his death was pretty much out of the Bad Kids’ hands, and they later found out he was manipulated by Daybreak into being bad anyway because of his sad living situation. he was a pretty minor antagonist in the scheme of things, and when we re-meet him as a ghost in the s1 epilogue, he’s pretty obviously remorseful for his actions. and dying seems like a steep enough punishment to me for the shit he did to contribute to the KVX caper; returning as a ghost, free from the trappings of his unfortunate living life, he now has the room and freedom to grow into a better person.

in the cases of Daybreak, Spells, Wicklaw, and the Abernant parents: these are bad people who should know better. these are fully grown adults who actively choose to do evil. whether they think it’s the right thing to do or not (in Daybreak’s case), whether they think it will benefit them and don’t care about anyone else (in the Abernants’ case), or whether they don’t care much at all and are just doing shit because they feel like it (in the cases of Spells and Wicklaw), these are all adults who consciously make the decision to do terrible things and hurt other people. of course Johnny Spells, who is generally a punk thief and thug, is not on the same level of bad as Angwyn, who kidnaps and tortures his own daughters for political gain, but the point remains. these fuckers should know better. they’re grown ups. they had their chances to be good and they chose not to heed them. their minds are set on bad actions and they are a continued danger to other people as long as they are alive. when they die, the Bad Kids do their damndest to make sure it stays that way.

now, in the cases of Penelope and Dayne: these are teenagers who actively chose to participate in an evil plot. Penelope, Dayne, and Biz were all fully cognizant of what they were doing trying to raise KVX back to his former power. why? well, to some extent, we can only speculate. i suspect Penelope was just one of those Regina George bitches who is rich and popular and powerful and obsessed with power and popularity within high school as if that’s the end-all-be-all of existence (which, like, when you’re currently in high school, is a somewhat understandable worldview i think). Dayne being her boyfriend and a musclehead jock probably falls into a similar line of thinking. they are actively and willingly trying to cause harm, and teenager or not, must be stopped. they’re killed, anyway, during the Climactic Battle™️ anyhow; it’s not like the Bad Kids were going to gain anything at that point by keeping them alive.

now, Biz: Biz is the creepy Nice Guy incel type, sees woman as a prize he deserves to win, yadda yadda. he does, like Penelope and Dayne, actively choose to help KVX. there might be something to be said about his motivation the Bad Kids discover after the arcade battle by detecting his thoughts (that being to upload the captured maidens from the palimpsests to “call the shots” himself) is an altered memory; whether this was his original motivation from the start or not, i’m not sure. but the Bad Kids do kill him – and then resurrect him for important, time-sensitive information. and they beat it out of him – he gets two of his fucking fingers blown off. and Riz reattaches them once they have their info, and they realize his memory is altered. of course, the Bad Kids don’t know at this point that the altered memory was something he, Penelope, and Aelwyn had planned and agreed on and done to themselves, but this points to something important in my opinion: the Bad Kids, and the narrative/show as a whole by extension, acknowledge that external manipulation affects how guilty someone is in a crime.

which brings us to Ragh. Ragh, introduced from episode 1 as the meathead jock. Ragh the archetypical one-dimensional high school bully. Ragh who works with the harvestmen in effort to (ostensibly) end the world/provoke international war. Ragh, whose low intelligence but high loyalty and internalized homophobia led him to be fully swayed and blindly led by his coach and captain, who have actively chosen to do evil. Ragh who is killed in combat by the Bad Kids and resurrected for information, not Daybreak. Ragh, who the Bad Kids realize was probably not aware of exactly what he was being made to do and how bad it really was. Ragh, who by their kindness in sparing his life and directing him on a better path, becomes a well-rounded character and an active ally to the Bad Kids during and after prom, an invaluable companion during their quest in sophomore year, and overall a really good friend and person. 

(it might also be worth considering the case of Jawbone here, too, who started out a very minor antagonist in a fight but ended up becoming a major NPC because the Bad Kids talked to him, found out he came from an unfortunate situation and set of circumstances, and showed him kindness in offering the school guidance counselor position, a kindness that isn’t really owed but given anyway and ends up changing his entire life for good.)

and then, Aelwyn, whose case is already discussed above. so, why is the RVS what it is, why them but not others?

if you’re familiar with Avatar: the Last Airbender, you’re probably familiar with Zuko’s character arc, and how it’s often lauded as a masterful example of developing a villain into a hero over the course of a narrative. what makes Zuko’s arc so well done and exceptional is that he starts out as a kid in a bad situation under the influence of bad adults seeking to do bad deeds, but he later realizes the error of those ways, actively removes himself from that situation despite the difficulty and danger in doing so, goes through a lot of shit and reflects on his past mistakes and learns from them, and then actively chooses to fight for good in the end with the help of close, trusted friends, found family. 

this, i believe, is the same in the case of Fantasy High and its treatment of the RVS. its members, like Zuko, are all teenagers who came from shitty situations and were manipulated by evil adults to do bad. they are punished for their bad actions, and they learn from their errors and mistakes. with the kindness and help of good people, friends and chosen family, they are able to escape their abusers and bad situations and grow into their own people. and they actively choose to improve themselves with that help and fight for good.

Fantasy High, through the arcs of Jawbone, Zayn, Ragh, and especially Aelwyn, asserts that it is not your fault if you come from a bad situation and are forced to behave badly as a result. it does not pretend that you are absolved of any responsibility for those actions; quite the opposite, as even though they were externally manipulated into their evil actions, all of those mentioned characters face tangible consequences for their actions and later express remorse for their mistakes. but Fantasy High also asserts that even if you have made great mistakes in your past, even if you came from a bad situation beyond your control, even if you were manipulated and abused, with care and love and support and a hell of a lot of work and effort, you can improve your situation and find good, happiness, peace, you can thrive. evil adults who should know better don’t get redeemed. teenagers who aren’t coerced but actively choose evil don’t get redeemed. but abused kids deserve another shot at happiness. with enough work, and some love and help along the way, they can get there, even from the lowest imaginable point, from rock fucking buttom. it’s possible. 

[crimeronan]

Can you explain the appeal of Julian Blackthorn? This is a genuine question because I read the books and came away utterly bored by him and unconvinced of his moral greyness as opposed to like, Adam Parrish’s. He seemed so one dimensional to me but I want to know if I’m Wrong TM considering I tend to be very very biased toward my favourite characters and bored by the rest, and my favourites were Mark and Kieran. So maybe I just didn’t pay him enough attention??

it’s been a while since i wrote any earnest tsc meta but cringe culture is dead and the chance to infodump about my julian thoughts has me vibrating where i’m sitting so.  yes okay.

technical stuff

(aka: things pertaining to How The Story Is Constructed)

cassandra clare’s characterization has become much stronger just in general since she first began writing the series like twenty years ago

perhaps most importantly: the more recent stuff i’ve read from her has involved characters who actually grow, change, and learn from their past mistakes 

rather than repeating the same stupid decisions over and over again

and over and over and over some more

seriously take a shot every time someone in tmi miscommunicates or self-destructs in ways They Have Learned Not To Do for no real reason. u will die of alcohol poisoning

in tda this shines ESPECIALLY with the evolution of mark, kieran, and cristina’s relationship, but that’s a separate post

clare’s trademark is also the angsty traumatized jerkass love interest with a secret heart of gold

the woman is almost singlehandedly responsible for draco in leather pants and the proliferation of this kind of character type in fandom and teen lit. this isn’t a criticism it’s me marveling at how if you commit hard enough to a single trope you truly can change the world.  follow your dreams

sad jackass with a heart of gold isn’t an Inherently Problematic Character Type

but poorly done it can lead to relationship dynamics in which one partner is constantly being hurt by and then forgiving the other despite them making no real effort to change, because they are narratively absolved due to being sad

(there’s a lot of this with earlier jace content.  in some ways i think will was later created specifically to be a same-archetype protagonist who actually does get called on his shit and grow. that’s also another post)

also if all of your sexy male love interests are tortured jackasses with a heart of gold then people start calling you a one-trick pony

enter julian blackthorn!

from the very start everything about him is designed to be the INVERSE of the heart of gold jackass.  which immediately makes him interesting just from a meta perspective

(mark and kieran are also both alternate angles on this time-honored archetype.  mark gets the heart of gold and kieran gets the jackass and then they’re both much more deeply messy than that.  yet another post)

julian is kind, self-sacrificing, empathetic, artistic, emotionally supportive, responsible, and favored by old grannies everywhere

so a completely nonthreatening milquetoast guy, right

immediately forgettable if you’re only here for the dramatic conflicts and shithead antics of clare’s other protags

except that he is A Mess

and that he has structured his priorities very carefully, and they are as selfless as you expect from The Hero (TM) but they are also Not Heroic (TM) and they do not align with the moral framework The Hero (TM) is supposed to use

moral ambiguity in characters always exists in relation to their narratives imo. you mention adam parrish - trc’s narrative already mucks around in different ethical shades of gray, and adam falls on the canon scale about where julian does on his canon scale.  both more willing than the average pov character to do the ruthless thing or make the fucked-up choice if the ends justify the means; both with an intensely strong sense of internal priorities that they adhere to at all costs, both so unbelievably fucking down for murder; etc

i do think there are ways julian’s choices could have been pushed even further, but considering the number of readers who hate his guts already, i can see why clare opted not to go for the most controversial possible conflicts

so we’re flipping the narrative

instead of seeing this angsty bad boy and peeling back the layers of his trauma to find his heart of gold, we’re seeing the put-together selfless family man and peeling back the layers of his Responsibility Mask to expose the rotting husk underneath

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

THAT IS FUN AS FUCK

then when julian DOES lash out in hurtful, uncontrolled ways, he has significantly more narrative justification for it than most of clare’s protagonists (will elaborate in characterization thoughts)

julian is also interesting as fuck because of how his struggles allow for a more in-depth look at the failings of shadowhunter society, something that’s also sorely lacking in clare’s earlier work

his apparent amorality is simply the result of him making pragmatic and impossible choices because he has been faced with fucked-up ethical dilemmas since age 12 Because Society Has Failed Him

which opens the door for narrative exploration of how and why he’s been failed so badly & what needs to change

i also love that he has such a coldly calculated way of analyzing situations and allowing harm to occur when need be, bc a lot of clare’s early protagonists have such a bad case of Rush In And Get Myself Killed Because I’ve Got Feelings About Impulsive Heroism syndrome that i wanna push them in front of a truck

probably there’s other meta narrative stuff i could say but i’m stopping myself and moving on to character analysis

characterization stuff

(aka: reasons why i’m also attached to him in a vacuum)

i don’t read him as one-dimensional at all tbh

u may feel the narrative pushes “ruthless julian blackthorn” too much without delivering enough actual ruthless julian But i don’t think that’s the same as having only one dimension

from the get-go, the big question centered on julian is always “how far are you willing to go?” and the narrative pushes the stakes slowly higher and higher to continuously test julian’s “the price is always justified” mindset

he has a far more layered and realistic response to trauma than clare’s early protagonists - trauma affects every single aspect of his personality and how he conducts himself, and the effects vary depending on the circumstances

his conviction that he has to be the perfect parent to his siblings because they will fall apart if they see him show weakness??  rooted in how he feels like he’s fallen apart since losing the stable adult support he once relied upon

his willingness to hurt semi-innocent people, commit coldblooded murder, manipulate people using political leverage, allow harm to befall any stranger if it protects his family??  rooted in how he has already had to ask himself how much he’s willing to sacrifice, and how his family is his only source of stability when the world has never done Shit for him

his conviction that he has a darker heart than anyone else because he killed his possessed father, even though intellectually he knows he was saving his brother’s life??  rooted in having no means of processing this trauma and being unable to voice his feelings for fear of backlash from a deeply non-understanding society

the way he represses every single negative emotion he ever has, to the point where emma - his actual literal magic soulmate who can feel his emotions - is startled to find him hurting or angry??  once again all about how he has to be the perfect father or he’s failed completely

the way his anger is so totally disproportionate to different situations and the way his negative emotions can only come out in completely uncontrolled breaks??  all that repression baybey.  this kid has not processed a single bad feeling in five years.  every single real grievance and petty annoyance has been festering indefinitely inside him like a slowly spreading infection

julian’s arc involves him needing to get thru being his worst self to actually start to heal

as in, he has to actually learn to acknowledge his feelings, take care of himself, lean on his family, and let other people take some responsibility

he also has to learn that in his quest to be the perfect emotionally controlled authority figure, he has not actually learned how to control or deal with his emotions. like. At Fucking All. good god

the narrative setup is also about asking “how far are you willing to go?” until the answer is finally “not this far.  not this far”

and once he reaches that point, he has to reevaluate everything about how he weighs his priorities and morals and plans, etc

(i also like that emma has a perpendicular arc in which she’s always the one tempering julian and telling him “no we can’t go that far” until she’s willing to do something horrific that he absolutely won’t and HE has to stop HER. very sexy)

it’s also just really nice to have a character who’s learned to relate so well to literally every single member of his family while still having a very detached ruthless interior consciousness. i have similar feelings about how adam teaches himself to love people, but with julian it’s spelled out more explicitly in canon & it’s a more central character theme

i’m sure i’m also forgetting stuff here but this post is long enough so i’m gonna say good enough

and like i said in the tags on my other post, there are things i’d personally write differently if it were my story - plot points i’d shift, character contrasts i’d up, themes i’d explore differently, pacing i’d adjust, etc.  i have plenty of ways i could be nitpicky and editorial about the effectiveness of julian’s arc.  but i also don’t feel like writing them out at the moment & none of my critiques on effectiveness have an impact on the core appeal of his character 2 me.  he’s so fucking good

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Yuma Dark [Prologue]

Monologue

ーー That burning feeling inside my throat,

is the sole thing which vividly remains in my memory.

Crackling flames flare up. 

People scatter about, tears streaming down their faces

as they call out someone’s name.

And I, ran straight towards

said fire.

It’s hot. So incredibly, unbearably hot.

Yet, I desperately dashed forward.

Swallowed by the flames and smoke, 

I could barely still see my own feet with my dried out eyes.

I could barely even breathe,

as the heat assaulted my throat.

Even so, I attempt to shout.

ーー Wanting to find someone.

ーー Wanting to save someone.

???: ( ...Who? )

( Who am I looking for amidst the flames? )

???: ーー ...ar!

???: ( I don’t know. I can’t remember. )

( Who was I searching for? Where was I? For whoーー? )

???: Bear!

ー A young Yuma wakes up and finds himself in town

Lucks: You’re awake?

Bear: ...Boss...

Lucks: Are you okay? You were groaning in your sleep again. (1)

Bear: Yeah...

*Rustle*

Bear: ...What’s with that face, huh? Whatcha grinnin’ for?

Lucks: It’s because you always look like you’re about to cry when you sleep. What’s wrong? Did you dream about your mommy again?

Bear: ...As if! Don’t treat me like a kid!

Lucks: Haha! My bad, my bad! Come on, eat this. It’s today’s grub.

ー He throws some food at him

Bear: ...Where did you pick up fresh bread?

Lucks: I didn’t pick it up, I secretly took it. Of course...Making sure nobody saw me?

You should hurry up and learn how to steal food (2) without getting chased after as well. I’m sure you’re fed up with getting beat up after being caught?

Bear: ...

Lucks: Well, it’s a common beginner’s mistake. Come on, just take a bite already. I’m sure you’re starving after tossing and turning around in your sleep?

Bear: ...Thanks for the food.

Lucks: Now I think about it, quite some time has passed since you hit me up, huh? You still can’t remember anything?

Bear: ...Nothing.

Lucks: I see. Well, if only it was that easy, huh? Have your burns healed yet?

Bear: They’ve gotten way better thanks to the medicine you gave me.

Lucks: I see. Isn’t it rough to be missing your memories?

Bear: ...Well...It is, but...

But, I don’t want to force myself to remember either. I feel...comfortable staying here with you after all.

Lucks: You get to eat without getting beaten up as well, huh?

Bear: ...That’s not what I meant!

Lucks: Haha, I’m joking. Well, if that’s what you want, you can stay here as long as you’d like. The gang likes you as well.

It’s just...Things may not stay this peaceful for long.

Bear: Did something happen?

Lucks: There’s been suspicious movements amongst one of the gangs at the neighboring city. The one lead by that nasty guy sporting a mohawk (3).

Bear: Aah, that idiot whose hair looks like a chicken’s?

Lucks: Yeah...He has already done a number on three of our gang members. If they won’t back down, we won’t be able to avoid a conflict forever.

Bear: Hmph! I’ll take them on at any time! They may think they’re strong together, but they’re no match for us!

Lucks: Haha. When it comes to your built and vigor, you really are formidable. You’re totally one of us now.

...Honestly, I know that continuing doing this won’t solve anything.

Bear: Boss?

Lucks: Say, Bear? Do you like this city?

Bear: ...What do you mean?

Lucks: Exactly as I said it. Take look at those worn down streets and houses. ...This city has started to rot.

All of the aristocrats and politicians keep on running their mouths about revolution or reforms and how it’s all in the best interest of the people but...This is the reality we have to face.

In the end, it’s only the rich people who get to benefit of it. (4) On the other hand, the number of children like us who end up on the streets is only rising. 

But no matter how ashy and grey the city gets, only the sky is still...

Look, it’s this blue...Underneath the blue sky who doesn’t belong to anyone, status or family does not matter.

I believe that all humans are equal and deserve to be free.

...However, I am also aware that such utopian dreams will never come true in this rotten city.

Bear: ...

Lucks: That’s why I’ve decided I will guide this country towards the right path.

To achieve this, I have to fight my way to the top. Of course, using a method other than violence.

Bear: ...Seems like you have a long way ahead of you.

Lucks: It’s frustrating but I’m still a child right now. I’m not stupid enough to think I can win against adults who have political power. I know that this will be a long fight.

But you know, I also want to know just how far a single orphan raised in the filthy slums can go.

Now that I’ve told you all of this, you’ll have to watch me till the very end, Bear. From your VIP seat right next to me.

Bear: Hah, I just hope you don’t drag me into the grave with you.

Lucks: Just give up if that happens. You were out of luck, getting picked up by me.

Bear: ...Guess so. I do feel like I owe you one. 

A huge debt, for giving me a place I can call my own...That is.

Fine then, I’ll stick with you. Until the day...This world changes.

ー The screen fades to black

Yuma: ( Exactly, that was our dream. )

( For us brats who had no money, let alone power, changing the country, or even the world, that was the real Utopia. )

( ...However, it’s strange. )

( Boss, I’m sure you can do it. That’s what I ended up thinking. )

Monologue

A city thorn apart by the destruction of war.

in the very corner of the slums laying in the very back of said city,

that is where I lived at that time.

About my life before that,

I could not remember a single thing.

At some point, I found myself laying on the ground,

of this filthy back-alley. Why was I here? 

Where did I come from?

I did not even know who I was. 

That’s the kind of situation I found myself in.

ーー Yo, what’s up?

A young boy called out for my puzzled self,

greeting with a tone,

as if we had been long-time pals.

That was Lucks.

ーー Got nowhere to go? 

Come with me then.

The moment he spoke those words without asking about what happened,

without a single hint of hesitation. 

I was at a loss for words, 

deeply moved by this boy.

I felt indebted, as well as respect for him,

even a little envy...

But the most accurate way to describe it, would probably be admiration.

And that is how,

I decided to live alongside this person,

who was the leader of a gang.

Based on my physical appearance,

I was given the nickname ‘Bear’.

ー The flashback ends as the scene shifts to the hallway

Yui: Haah...

( It may have been decided by drawing a card, but how could I have picked such a scary-looking person... )

( He punched me when I was brought here, and he goes around calling people ‘Sow’... )

( I wonder if I’ll be okay, having someone like that watch over me...? )

Yuma: Hold it, Sow! (5)

Yui: ...!

Yuma: Don’t just be wanderin’ ‘round like ya own this place! If ya wanna have a look ‘round, at least ask me for permission first!

Yui: ( Speak of the devil...! )

Yuma: Che. Ya really not tryin’ to hide that you’re displeased, huh? ...I’m not exactly thrilled to have to babysit ya either, ya know!?

But well, guess I have no other choice. 

Oi, I’ll only tell ya this once so listen up. These are the rules attached to becomin’ my personal toy.

Yui: Toy!?

Yuma: I’m not wrong, right? My own toy which I can use as I please, whenever I want to. That’s what ya are, right?

Yui: I-It’s my first time hearing about that...!

Yuma: Do I really need to go out of my way to tell ya? That’s what Sows (6) are for, right?

Yui: ( ‘Toy’ and ‘Sow’...That’s just too cruel... )

Yuma: What? Got a problem with it, huh?

Yui: R-Rather than a problem...

Yuma: Aahn!?

Yui: ...!

( Uu...Yuma-kun really is scary with that tall physique and loud voice of his...! )

Yuma: ...

*THUD*

Yui: !!

Yuma: Can’t hear ya very well!? This toy came with a mouth, didn’t it!? Speak up a lil’ more, aahn!?

Yui: ( He’s even more scary when he towers over me like that...! )

I-It’s...nothing...

Yuma: Che, you’re so annoyin’. If ya can’t say, don’t try and mutter a halfbaked response.

This is exactly why I hate chicks who just stand there pissin’ their pants the whole time.

You’re on the same level as a farm’s pig if ya can’t even voice yer own opinion out loud.

Listen up, Sow. Watchin’ those kind of people makes me gag.

Yui: ( He doesn’t have to put it so bluntly... )

( ...However, it’s true that I’m frightened and that I can’t talk back... )

Yuma: Haah...What a fuckin’ pain in the ass.

If it turns out ya don’t taste better than Sugar-chan, I really got the short end of the stick.

Yui: ( Sugar-chan...? Could he be talking about sugar cubes? Also, he’s eating them plain... )

( I wonder if he likes sweet stuff...? )

Yuma: Well, I’ve got no other choice now that I’m chosen. There...!

Yui: Ow...!?

( He strongly wrapped his hand around my throat...!? )

Yuma: Woah there, don’t make a fuss. I’m actually holdin’ back so I don’t snap it in two.

If ya struggle too much, I might end up puttin’ in some strength.

I might just break yer neck even if I didn’t mean to?

Yui: ( I don’t want that...! )

( But it hurts and it’s hard to breathe, so I can’t just keep still...! )

*Thud*

Yuma: Did I not just tell ya to keep still!? ...Che, ya really are a pain. Come on!

*Rustle*

Yui: ( ...He loosened up a little. It’s somewhat less painful like thiーー )

Yuma: Dont get the wrong idea.

You’re a damn infuriatin’ woman. But it seems like ya are the chosen Eve after all. I’ll handle ya with care for now.

Well, either way...Ya chose me. Even if it’s a drag, I can’t alter said truth.

Yui: ( I didn’t choose him myself though... )

Yuma: That being said, ya better try yer best to become a toy to my liking, capiche? 

Yui: Why...me...?

Yuma: Hah. Haven’t those Sakamaki’s already treated ya badly plenty of times anyway?

Yui: That’s...

Yuma: What? Tryin’ to play hard to get now? Don’t cause me any more trouble!

*THUD*

Yuma: Come on. If ya understand, do as I say. If so, I’ll treat ya decently. Hehe.

Yui: ( ...! )

Yuma: Looks like ya don’t like the ring of that? Heh. Perfect. 

Ya should have just been honest back then. Don’t be havin’ regrets now...!

ー Yuma bites her

Yui: !!

( Ow...! He suddenly...! )

Yuma: Nn...Nn?

Yui: ( Uu... )

Yuma: ...Haah...Heeh...Guess this is to be expected of Eve? Ya taste quite nice.

Nn...Hah...Amazin’...The blood’s so sweet...Just like sugar...No, even sweeter?

I wasn’t lookin’ forward to havin’ to watch over some chick’s sad ass but...Hehe, in this case, it might actually be kinda fun.

Yui: Please, stop...

Yuma: Hah, already havin’ regrets? Didn’t I tell ya...!?

Yui: Uu, ah...!

Yuma: ...Hah...

Yui: ( He keeps on thrusting them in and pulling back out...I’m becoming numb from the pain... )

Yuma: Hehe...I think it’s annoyin’ when a woman goes quiet after I yell at her, but I don’t dislike chicks who keep silent durin’ this kinda thing?

I wouldn’t mind if ya expressed yer desires, or let me hear some nice cries...tho!

ー He pushes Yui away

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyah...!

*Thud*

Yuma: I’ve had enough. I’m sleepy too so I’m done for today.

Well, guess now ya just have to try yer hardest to be in my good grace, huh?

Yui: ...

Yuma: Hehe...See ya, Sow.

ー Yuma leaves

Yui: ( ...No matter where I go, I always get treated like this. )

( Although I still can’t believe...I actually want to have my blood sucked myself. )

( If I could, I’d honestly love to go to a world without any Vampires... )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) The verb うなされる or ‘unasareru’ refers to both ‘having a nightmare/bad dream’ as well as the noises and movements accompanying it.

(2) He uses the term ‘to supply’ or ‘to raise’ here, but it is obvious from the context that they are stealing food. 

(3) They describe his hairstyle as トサカ頭 or ‘tosaka atama’ with ‘tosaka’ referring to a cockscomb.

(4) Literally he says they are the ones who ‘get to suckle the sweet nectar’. 

(5) そこの or ‘soko no’ is a set phrase shouted when you want to stop somenoe in their tracks. You will often hear it being used by the police and such when they spot someone suspicious. Usually it is combined with 君 or ‘kimi’, in which case you can translate it as ‘You over there!’. In this case, I had to alter it a little because he uses Yui’s nickname ‘Sow’. 

(6) The word メスブタ or ‘mesubuta’ technically means ‘Sow’. However, it is also a common slang word to call somewhere a ‘whore’ or ‘slut’.

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

<- [ Yuma prologue ] [ Dark 01 ] ->

[heuristicallyinclined]

MallekWeek2021 Day 5: Love

1.1k | AO3

There is a heaviness the morning before you depart from Alternia.

There isn’t anything you can do about it. There isn’t actually anything left for you to do. You “owning the drones” never got anywhere. You aren’t particularly shocked if you’re being honest. If you somehow managed to figure it out, then that meant that someone other than you who knew more about what they were doing definitely would have figured it out by now and pulled some shit. But no one did. Because they couldn’t.

Your failure wasn’t a surprise, but it was a disappointment. And it stung.

And that stinging eventually settled into a dull weight in your gut as you went through the motions of preparing for your ordeals. It felt like it should have slowed you down, like it should have made everything feel more stagnant, now that you couldn’t do anything but wait for the inevitable, but instead everything felt like it was moving faster than it ever had, and was just dragging you along with it.

Now, here you are. Ready to truly become a citizen of the empire. Shit packed and hive basically empty. Except for you, a few pieces of furniture, and that heavy, heavy dread that made itself right at home inside of you while you could barely recognize the space surrounding you.

Your ordeals had always loomed over you, something you had always known about in the back of your mind that you had to do that moved to the forefront as you got older. They pushed you almost as much as they weighed you down and now there was just no getting around them and seeing all of the nothing surrounding you where your life used to be makes that fact viscerally fucking apparent.

It’s only the physical weight that wraps itself around you that brings you any sort of comfort.

Your lusus wasn’t exactly happy with all of the changes either. You know he always wanted you to clean more, clear up some space on the floor, do dishes, that kind of thing. But this wasn’t that. He kept flicking his tongue out as you cleared your shit out and the place became less and less you. His thoughts on clutter aside, the openness seemed to bother him more. You felt it too. Everything felt too bare now, too exposed.

No place for either of you to hide you guess.

You kept your coon and your couch. No real use for anything else. You kept his enclosure too, not that he’s really used it, more preferring to hang around you. It just happened to be literal right with how draped himself around you on the couch. You’re about to be an adult. Having your lusus getting this custodial over you at your age should be embarrassing but you’ve got too much going on to actually care.

Maybe you do want your lusus around right now.

You mean, they have a harder time without their ward and don’t tend to last long without one. So this is more for him, before he has to make his own journey back to the caverns so he doesn’t have to deal with the other creatures on the planet. They actually have it pretty sweet with having a ward.

A lusus leads their grub out of the caverns and they roam, looking for a suitable spot to build a hive. Logically you know you did this, but you don't actually remember shit. You're guessing that your lusus slithered to some high point with you and the drones took it from there. You vaguely remember him guiding you to get your hive customized more as you got older and more able to voice any kind of opinion, but that was still a long time ago and your more recent shit was minor. You'd prefer to keep the drones away from your hive with what you get up to. Or got up to.

Damn.

It’s rough to think about and it has you simultaneously more exhausted than you’ve ever been while still being anxious as hell. But him squeezing around your shoulders stops you from keeping too much tension in them and gives you something to focus on, something outside of your pan, and you definitely appreciate it. Mindlessly, you start to stroke against his scales, focusing on what is actually in front of you. It helps and you start to relax a bit. Until you make a rookie mistake.

You yawn.

You immediately feel him tighten in concern as he shifts to look over at you.

“i = fine;” you say on reflex more than anything.

He doesn’t buy it and keeps shifting until brings himself down in front of you and gestures to your coon.

Okay. Yeah. You're definitely too old for this.

You really doubt you’re going to be able to fall asleep right now. If anything, this is just going to end up being a slight change of scenery for you. The whole situation is just shitty and bad and there is nothing you or him can do about it and you going to sleep isn’t actually going to change anything. But he knows that. He knows that and he isn’t trying to do anything about what he can’t control.

He starts getting more insistent, butting his head against you.

Maybe that’s all you can do.

So one last time, you relent, and head off to your coon. You settle in and just like you thought, the slime doesn’t actually make you feel sleepier. It is more comfortable though. You lean back into it and start to drift back into your thoughts when you notice your lusus’s silhouette in the doorway.

It’s familiar. You’ve seen it plenty of times and felt plenty of different ways about it over time. Safe, secure, annoyed, startled. That last one was mostly when he caught you playing your gamegrub when you were supposed to be sleeping. This time though, you’re not a little kid. Things would be less complicated if you were. And you’d probably have an easier time trying to describe how knowing this is the last time you’d ever see this makes you feel because you don’t think that just saying “upset” covers all of it.

He lingers and looks at you for a long moment before hissing softly and closing the door.

You didn’t know a snake could look sad.

[sunlightdances]

Happy Mistake (College!Bucky x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Request from @jbbuckybarnes​: Being assigned roommates with modern!Bucky. He's a giant and looks like he's a bully, but he's actually so shy and soft. Author’s Note: *It’s been 84 years.gif* So sorry this took so long! Note: There’s note writing in this fic - italics are the Reader, and bold are from Bucky. PS - I listened to the playlist “Relaxing Classical Strings” on Spotify whilst writing and I highly recommend it. Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes, Marvel, or any related characters from the MCU. Please don’t repost my work on any other sites (including collections or hosting sites) without my permission! Reblogs are gold. I’d love to hear from you if you like this!

You’re sweating a little as you unpack your last box, wondering why colleges always pick the absolute hottest day of the year to have everyone move in.

You step back and admire your work - your bookshelf is organized and you’ve got one of your favorite scented candles burning on your nightstand. You can already picture yourself studying here, and staying up too late drinking homemade cocktails with your roommate.

Loud voices from the living room draw your attention, and you feel those nervous butterflies - you hope you get along with your roommate for this year. Last year was definitely an adventure, and not in a good way. You’re just praying this person is nice and considerate.

Heading out to the common area you stop in your tracks, seeing three guys lugging in boxes. They smile at you a little curiously, but don’t say much. You look around them for your roommate, but you have no idea what they look like. You’re a little embarrassed to admit that you can’t remember what their name is either - you lost that handy piece of information almost immediately after it was mailed to your parents’ house over the summer.

“Hi,” One of the guys says, holding out his hand. He’s tall, well built, with dark hair that looks like he spent an hour coiffing it just right. His eyes are the most distracting thing about him. “I’m James, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

You smile and tell him your name. “I’m waiting for my roommate - are you helping her move in?”

His smile fades. “Are you kidding?”

You feel your face get hot. “... No?”

He stares at you so intensely you can practically feel it. “Where’s your friend? Are you helping him?”

“Holy shit, dude.” His friend - large, blonde, and a smile out of a magazine - says, laughing.

James sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We have to go to the RA. I think they made a mistake.”

You frown. “What are you talking about? How would you even know? You’re not--”

“Your roommate? It’s me.” He digs in his pocket for a letter from the University, handing it to you. Right there, in bold letters, it reads James Barnes, Easton Hall, 305.

Your stomach sinks when you realize what happened. “Oh. Right -- I don’t know how this could have happened.”

He groans, turning to his friend. “Remember when you said moving in for a second year would be easy? You’re a jinx.”

You fold your arms over your stomach, trying to stave off the urge to cry. It’s not your fault or his fault, but you just wished this wasn’t happening. You just wanted an easy year for once.

“Hey,” James’ friend says, looking at you with so much concern you almost believe you’ve known him longer than 5 minutes. “It’s going to be fine.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“God. Stop flirting.” James complains, elbowing Steve.

Steve looks annoyed, “Shut up. Let’s go fix this before one or both of you are homeless.”

The RA was almost zero help. They gave you plenty of sympathetic looks, but otherwise had no idea what to do to fix your situation.

Back in the dorm, you sit helplessly on the end of your bed, trying to ignore James on the phone in the common area.

You look up when he comes into the room, knocking lightly on the door frame. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You reply, wondering if you look as pathetic as you feel. Your insides are a twisted up ball of anxiety.

“The admissions office was no help. They said they’d have to sort it out and with everyone moving in, they might not have a free room for either of us for a few days.”

You nod, and he tilts his head slightly to one side. “Hey, this isn’t your fault.”

You huff. “I know, I just-- I wanted this year to be better than last year and it’s already off to a terrible start.”

His eyes are sparkling a little as he pretends to be offended. “Most girls would be excited at the prospect of sharing a dorm with me, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes. “I guess you better get unpacked. Who knows when or if they’ll ever get back to you.”

He winks so you know he was joking before. “You can call me Bucky,” he says offhandedly. “All my friends do.”

.

.

.

That was three months ago, and you’re still living with Bucky Barnes.

You’re making it work, but it’s still an awkward conversation every time you have friends over. You still haven’t told your parents.

You’re an adult, but you’re still sure your Dad would flip knowing you’re living with a very eligible bachelor. Very eligible, as you’ve learned.

You’ve never met someone who goes on as many dates as Bucky does. Some of them you’re positive are just friends, and he invites you out with them sometimes, but it still feels weird. Most of the time you stay in, opting to study instead of third wheeling it with Bucky.

You’ve taken to leaving each other notes around the dorm when the other one is out - the only way you can think to get a message across sometimes.

All out of milk, stop at the store on your way home?

You leave that message taped to the fridge in the morning when you leave before him, and when you get home in the afternoon, there’s a new note in its place.

Forgot the milk, but got chocolate chip cookies. Priorities? Then, scrawled smaller, (sorry. Will buy in the morning)

You roll your eyes, but eat two of the cookies while you’re doing your homework later that night after dinner.

The next morning, you hear the door a few times and are just about ready to open your bedroom door and throw a fit when you hear Bucky shush someone.

“Dude, can you please speak at a normal volume for someone at six in the morning? She’s asleep--”

“Sorry, I’m a morning person.” You recognize Steve’s voice and roll your eyes, rolling back over and hoping for a few more hours of sleep before your first class.

Meanwhile, Bucky follows Steve out of the dorm, trying to keep his steps light and quiet as he shuts the door behind them.

Steve chuckles, and Bucky glares. Pretty standard for this pair of friends.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so worried about her. It’s cute.” He ducks away from Bucky’s punch.

“Shut up.”

“Really, dude. Don’t think I missed the way you looked at her on move-in day. When are you going to do something about it?”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, “It’s a bad idea.” Steve scoffs, and Bucky continues, “Seriously. We’re roommates. If something happened and it didn’t work out--”

“How do you know it won’t work out?”

“Just drop it, okay?”

Steve shakes his head, but doesn’t push it any further. Bucky swallows his feelings down, down, down. He can at least admit to himself that Steve’s right about one thing: when he first met you and thought you were his roommate’s friend or sister or something, he was ready to lay on the charm.

You’re beautiful, and funny, and there’s something about you that sticks with him like glue. He can’t shake the feeling, and he really doesn’t want to.

But he’s afraid, too. Because what if it does ruin everything? If he’s honest, you’re the best roommate he’s ever had. And not just because the dynamic between you two is good, even though that’s definitely part of it. But you’re courteous, and you do small things like set the coffee maker up the night before so there’s hot coffee on mornings when he gets up earlier than you do.

You leave him a reminder on the kitchen counter not to forget his notebook, the one with the torn cover that he always loses. You check on him if he’s staying up too late and you make sure to buy the ice cream he likes when it’s your turn to do the shopping.

It’s like you actually care about him beyond just being his roommate, and he’s never felt that kind of connection with anyone before.

At that, he has to keep himself from stopping dead in his tracks as he walks with Steve.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

.

.

.

Bucky comes home while you’re tugging on a sweater, getting ready to leave for your first class. You lean out of the door, smiling, but he heads straight for the shower and shuts the bathroom door.

You frown; it’s unlike him to ignore you completely.

You figure he’s tired after his run with Steve, but can’t get rid of the niggling worry in the back of your mind that something’s wrong.

The day drags on, and you find yourself nearly falling asleep during your last class - your mind elsewhere and attention lacking. Towards the end of class, you text Bucky, asking him if he’s going to be home for dinner.

No response.

Not unusual, but to your anxiety brain? You immediately start thinking the worst. You’re replaying every conversation from the last week, trying to remember if you’ve done anything that could have possibly made him upset.

When you get home, his bedroom door is shut, but the light is on. You try to go about business as usual, writing him a note that there’s dinner in the fridge and sliding it under the door when he still doesn’t come out, even after an hour of meal prepping.

Taking the hint, you take your own meal into your bedroom and shut the door.

After an hour or so, you try not to feel hurt when you hear his door opening, and then the sound of the front door. No matter how hard you try not to take it personally, you can’t help it when your stomach sinks.

He doesn’t come back that night.

Or the next two.

By day three, you’ve moved on from hurt and have settled on anger.

There are no more notes, no anything to indicate that he’s been in the dorm at all and has just missed you. There’s nothing.

This goes on for a few more days before you’re sitting on the couch, listening to a key being put in the lock. Your heart starts to race, and you sort of hate yourself for leaning forward, waiting for him to step into view.

It’s not Bucky.

Steve looks sheepish, even a little upset as he gives you a wave, shoving the keys in his pocket. “Hey,” he says quietly. “I’m uh-- Bucky asked me to get a few things.”

You don’t even know what to say. This feels like a break up, except you and Bucky have never been together, and you have no idea why he’s not sleeping here, or why he’s not talking to you.

Your throat starts to tighten as you fight off the threat of tears.

And it’s worse because Steve looks embarrassed, and he looks sorry for you and he’s so nice, and you hate it. You don’t want him to pity you.

You just watch helplessly as he goes into Bucky’s room, the sound of drawers opening and closing the only thing you hear for a few minutes before he comes back, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Look, I-- I told him he should talk to you. I don’t really know what happened--”

“Nothing happened.” You say, frustrated. “I just came home one day and he ignored me and he’s been ignoring me ever since.”

Steve’s jaw ticks. “What day was that?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. A few days ago. When you and he went for a run early in the morning.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry. I think-- I need to go talk to him. Hang in there, okay?” He ruffles your hair as he leaves, and you realize he’s left Bucky’s bag behind.

.

.

.

Bucky is staring at his phone when Steve comes back, slamming the door behind him. “Christ,” Bucky mutters. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem.”

Bucky frowns, looking up to see his best friend looking pissed.

“I just went to your dorm. Your roommate was there.”

Bucky feels the familiar feeling of guilt and self loathing come over him, but doesn’t know what to say, so he lets Steve continue with his tirade.

“She had no idea you were here. She had no idea why you were gone, and she had no idea what she did wrong.” Steve puts his hands on his hips. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You made it seem like you guys had a fight or something! And then she said you’ve been ignoring her ever since our conversation the other day. If you’re really pushing her away because I was giving you a hard time--”

“That’s not what’s happening.”

“Then why the hell are you sleeping on my couch?” Steve asks exasperated. “It’s not like I don’t like having you here, but come on, dude.”

Bucky swallows heavily, trying to get his bearings. “You were right, okay?” He says it quietly. “I’m-- getting attached.”

Steve watches him carefully. “I think you need to be telling her this, not me.”

Bucky rubs his face. “I know.”

Steve smiles slyly. “I forgot your clothes. Looks like you need to go home.”

.

.

.

Bucky feels like an idiot.

He’s knocking on the door to his own dorm because he was in such a rush to leave Steve’s, he forgot his key.

And now he’s waiting for you to open the door, half sure that you’re going to slap him across the face when you see him.

The door opens, and he’s struck by the sight of you. You look sad. But you’re beautiful, and he has no idea how he thought he was ever going to be able to live with you, see you every day, and not fall head over heels for you.

“Bucky.” You sound surprised.

“Um-- I forgot my key.”

“Oh, sure. Uh-- come in.”

He follows you inside, and takes a deep breath. “I think we need to talk.”

You look apprehensive, and he hates himself for doing this to you. You sit down on the couch and he does the same thing, mirroring you.

“I owe you an apology. I didn’t -- I shouldn’t have just left. Or ignored your texts. I’m sorry.”

You shrug, “It’s not like-- you don’t owe me--”

“Yes, I do.” Bucky is adamant. “Look - when we first met, I was really unsure how we were going to get through this. Obviously we weren’t meant to be living together. But now I can’t imagine it any other way.”

You laugh, though it still sounds a little sad. “I thought you were this big, scary guy.” You look down at your lap, wringing your hands. “I was really wrong about you.”

Bucky wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and make up for every sad feeling you’ve had over the last few days.

“I’m sorry. I never should have ignored you. I was-- I was kind of panicking.”

You tilt your head. Bucky thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Why would you be panicking?”

He decides to just bite the bullet. “I think I have feelings for you.” At your quick inhale, he shakes his head, “No, I know I have feelings for you. You just-- crept up on me. And I freaked out, because Steve kept getting on my case about it, and--”

His rambling is stopped when you grab his arm, tugging him towards you before throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug. Bucky freezes at first, but soon melts into you, sighing at your touch and burying his face in your neck.

“I missed you,” you whisper, and Bucky feels his knees go weak. How he ever thought you weren’t going to have him wrapped around your finger, he has no idea.

“I missed you too. I’m sorry.”

.

.

.

6 months later

“Buck?”

“I’m coming--”

“We’re going to be late…”

“We’re not going to be late. We’re going to be early, because you think early is on time.” He comes out of the bedroom, pulling his leather jacket on. He grins at you, voice softening. “Look at you.”

You feel your face heat. “Stop it,”

“What? I can’t compliment my girl?”

“If we’re late again, Steve is going to roast you. And if he doesn’t, Peggy will.”

Bucky grabs your hand, rolling his eyes. “You worry too much. Come on.” As you’re walking, he’s muttering under his breath about double dates, but you can tell he’s happy to go out - the both of you have been so swamped with school, you’ve been shut up in your dorm for days.

The day after your talk with Bucky, you slowly but surely began working your way towards a relationship. It wasn’t hard - you were already close friends, and without the fear of thinking either of you were going to be rejected, it was easy to take the next step.

Now, as you walk through the building hand in hand, you’re so grateful that someone in the housing department screwed up.

From the spark in Bucky’s eye as he winks at you, you think he is too.

[pestriddencarnivore]

Headcanon: Chisaki’s parents and earliest childhood

Mother:

Name: Harahoshi Ishi　原星    偉志  Kanji: Original(Nuclear) Star | Greatness Ambition 

Profession: Astrophysicist

Quirk: Molecular Manipulation

Status: Deceased

Notes:  - strongly career oriented, it’s either straight As or death - would have been an astronaut but being in a spacecraft sounds terrifying for so many reasons... - has a major sweet tooth and literary cannot travel to a new place without trying out all the regional treats - knows the rules of several iterations of dnd by heart but can’t DM for the life of her because she becomes way too mathematical, can’t perform the NPCs well and coming up with a fun story is just... a skill in itself she does not have. Great player though 10/10

Father:

Name: Kohaku Ishi　虎白    偉志 Kanji: Tiger White | Greatness Ambition

Profession: Chemical Engineer

Quirk: Quirkless

Status: Alive, Living on Hokkaidō

Notes:  - the type who excels at a few things in life but otherwise just struggles with being an adult - he’s used lab equipment for cooking food plenty of times and also once took a course of “Culinary Thermodynamics”. He’s actually a pretty decent cook, though masterful at baking ( Yes, he bewitched his wife with pastries. ) - he enjoys making science jokes almost no one understands. But don’t worry, he will laugh for you. - lowkey ready to fight 24/7 and almost got his drunken ass kicked more than once at a uni party 

Further Note: After a conversation about their kid growing up Kai’s parents had a little competition going on over whose scientific field Kai would favour. They’d frequently give him related toys and take him to work to show that obviously he’d favour their own. It was all in good fun of course.

Backstory:

The decision of having a child was a battle between wanting to further pursue their careers and the wish to have a family. In the end they had to settle on a middle ground, and when Kai was born his parents couldn’t have been happier. It indeed had made their life a full time struggle but to them it was worth all the little moments and the life ahead. They loved their child and cared for him with all they had.

That was until the incident. It happened when the boy was about 20 months old, and his quirk had started showing. 

All it had taken was a single touch. Kai didn’t directly kill his mother. Instead with his still undeveloped powers he broke her body irreparably. She spent months in hospital in a coma, with multiple attempts to heal her until finally the decision was made to let her die.

It was not long after Harahoshi’s hospitalisation, that an organisation called the “ National Union of Early Developmental Quirk Education “ contacted Kai’s father. They first introduced themselves to help him and his situation, then gradually applied more and more pressure to convince him to give up his child completely, often saying things like: 

“ You can’t raise the boy on your own. You don’t have the time or any experience with quirks. “ “ You wouldn’t want the child to grow up with the knowledge that he killed his mother. “ “ We know what is best for him. We have done it many times before. “

In between work, worrying about his sick wife, the child and his own worsening mental state Kohaku wound up giving in to the pressure and completely signed the boy off to them. 

Only a few weeks after his wife had died did the scope of his mistake truly dawn on him and he tried for years to get Kai back. However, all his struggles were in vain for he never found out where they kept his son or if he even still was with the people who originally took him. 

Eventually all he had left was to give up and move on.

It happened when Kai Chisaki rose to become the boss of the Shie Hassaikai, that his father found out about him. At the time he couldn’t tell for sure if it was his son, in fact he still doubts it to this day. However that didn’t stop him from digging up everything he could find out about that man, and regularly keeping up to date with news on the organisation.

Kohaku has never made an attempt to seek out Chisaki, convinced that even if it was his child he perhaps wouldn’t even want to meet him. And since likewise Kai never made an attempt to search for his real parents they never saw each other again. 

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - The Eye of Pincosta

So this is an episode that really didn’t need to exist, and I say that as a Styalan defender. The writers took a perfect opportunity have the characters actually learn and grown and bypass it all for a contrived performative fake out redemption. 

Summary:  The group arrive in the town of Pincosta, but Eugene is immediately thrown in jail for having previously stolen the town's largest diamond, the Eye of Pincosta. The sheriff declares Eugene to work in the deadly copper mines and soon the rest of the group are thrown in jail. Rapunzel negotiates with the sheriff, offering to find and retrieve the Eye of Pincosta in exchange for Eugene and the group's release. The sheriff agrees, but on the condition that Rapunzel returns in two days. Rapunzel confronts Eugene about the theft and reluctantly, Eugene reveals he previously worked together with Stalyan, forcing Rapunzel to seek out Stalyan and persuades her to help.

So Why Didn’t Eugene Just Stay Behind With the Caravan?

Like it doesn’t take all six of you to buy and carry food back to the caravan; which they don’t take into the town anyways. Especially when you have two horses you can use. So why bring Eugene along when you know he could be arrested? 

Pointing Out the Flaw In Your Writing Doesn’t Make It Any Less of a Flaw

No seriously, why didn’t he stay with the caravan? You need someone to watch over your stuff anyways if your going to leave it behind and Eugene is the perfect candidate for that. And even if you did need everyone to stick together, which you don’t, then bring the camper with you and let Eugene ride inside of it unseen. It’s not like the towns roads are too small for it or anything and it’ll save you from having to carry your stuff. 

If you have to turn your characters into sudden idiots for no discernible reason to make your plot happen then you haven’t a good plot. Start over and come up with something else. Like maybe have Eugene not realize that he is wanted here because it was so long ago or have the guards randomly check their caravan where he’s hiding out because Styalan’s back into town, or something. Anything so long as it doesn’t make the mains stupid. 

You’re Literally The Princess of Powerful Kingdom; Use That! 

Ok, from what background info we get here, Pincosta isn’t even a fully fledged kingdom. It’s a hamlet, which is smaller than even a village. We get no indication what ‘land’ it belongs to, but it shares a kingdom with the larger town of Zulberg, which is one of the running gags in the first half of the episode. 

What all this means is that Rapunzel is still the most powerful person in the room. She’s the heir apparent to the throne of a prosperous kingdom that has ties with a large trading network with bunch of other power kingdoms. Locking up her boyfriend and the future prince consort of said kingdom can be perceived as an act of war. 

The series is trying to lead into Rapunzel becoming queen, but that means she needs to take advantage of her position and perform queenly like tasks. Like negotiating international incidents like this one, and simply complying to the city’s laws as if she was some random traveler doesn’t cut it. 

Oh, So Now You Care!

Rapunzel, where the fuck do you think that prison barge was heading to just two episodes back? The same prison barge that your friend Attila was being threatened with. The same prison barge that victims of Corona’s corrupt justice system, like say Varian, are threatened with on top of the inhumane conditions of those dungeon cells that you locked your two best friends in back in season one. 

Do not tell me Rapunzel is some kind and caring person if she only gives a damn about unjust treatment when it only affects her or someone she already cares about.     

This Is Stealing Agency Away From Eugene 

Rapunzel is not the one responsible for Eugene’s mistakes. She can help to some degree, like using her political power to pull some strings, but she doesn’t need to be the one to make reparations for his actions; that’s on him. 

Or rather it should be on him. This should be his episode. The one where he grows as a person as he makes up for past deeds. Because redemption isn’t just about never doing bad things again, it’s also about making amends for what you did wrong. 

That’s where this series fails and why the whole ‘It’s Rapunzel’s Story’ mantra is hollow. For starters it’s not just Rapunzel’s story. The series isn’t structured to be that way because it’s based off of a movie with two protagonists. It’s Eugene’s story as well. It’s also Cassandra’s and Varian’s story because as the main antagonists they further the conflict. 

But it also fails because Rapunzel is just thrown into other people’s stories instead of being given her own. Rapunzel never learns anything from this adventure. Stalyan does, and Stalyan is never seen again after this episode. Having Rapunzel teach other random people lessons is counterintuitive to what the series wants to be. If it’s meant to be a coming of age story where Rapunzel learns about the real world, then she can’t be automatically in the right every episode.   

Well Ain’t That Convenient  

So Stalyan is needed to find this diamond that she and Eugene stole in order to free Eugene. Yet it’s never stated how Rapunzel finds Stalyan, especially so quickly. Last we saw her she had just left Varados and that was months ago. She could have been anywhere by this time. 

So why is she near the same town where she’d still be wanted for arrest at? Where’s a her dad, who was dying from poison when we last saw him? What has she been up to? How did Rapunzel even know she was here? 

Like you need to establish crap like this, otherwise it’s just a major plot hole. 

So Why Stalyan? 

This episode could have gone to just about anybody. Eugene, Lance, Lady Caine, fucking Shorty... Like I’d even take Hookfoot over this. He’s at least there for more than two episodes. 

So why Stalyan? Why does she get a focus episode when we’ll never see her again? How come she’s ‘redeemed’ but not any of the other criminals on the prison barge? Like the series wants to act as if Rapunzel is this really forgiving person who believes in second chances but only four villains out of twenty get redemptions. 4 out of 20! What makes Stalyan so special that she gets to be one of those few select four and not say Lady Caine, Dwayne, or Andrew and the Saporians? 

This Should Have Been a Lance and Rapunzel Team Up Instead

Keep in mind when I say this episode could have focused on anybody, I do mean it. You get creative enough this initial setup could have featured any two characters you wanted interacting. Lance and Eugene, Eugene and Rapunzel, Eugene and Stalyan, Eugene and Cassandra, Lance and Cassandra or maybe even Caine and Rapunzel, and reveal how Eugene knew Caine back in the pilot episode. Like there’s a lot of possibilities here. 

For my money though, this should have been a Lance and Rapunzel episode. Because we don’t get any Lance and Rapunzel episodes. We don't even get any Lance episodes after his introduction. All his development, what little there is, is shoved into the b-plot of other characters’ focus episodes. He also barely interacts with the series main character despite being her boyfriend’s BFF and living with her on the road for year. That’s ridiculous. 

All you needed to do was make Lance Eugene’s partner and have Lance make up for his past deeds to try and free his friends. Boom! 

Why Didn’t You Bring Anything With You Raps?

We see at the end that the caravan was parked outside of town this whole time. She still has the key to get out any money that she needed, the pick of two horses that can’t fit inside of a cell anyways, and oh yeah probably a canteen to use.

Furthermore, she’s a fucking princess!!! She’s has credit and clout and can just get whatever she damn near wants just by asking; because she’s not your average person on the street like us. 

I’m not going to feel sorry for the main protagonist when the main protagonist is an idiot who does these things to herself and makes life harder for everyone needlessly.  

Rapunzel Has a Stunted Grasp of Ethics 

Stalyan’s not wrong here. Unless you have an alternative, like your own horse or money to buy horses, that you decided to leave behind as well for some undefined reason, then yeah, you needed horses. Your friends lives are at stake woman! 

I touched on this back in my TAR review, but the show leans heavily into authoritarian beliefs because it provides childish lessons for adult situations.  

‘Stealing is always wrong no matter what’ is the thought process of a child. It does not take into account how systems of governments can stack the deck against certain groups of people, nor how sometimes emergencies come up and you got to deal them in the moment and make amends later. 

And you know what, I’m not taking ‘it’s a show for kids’ as an excuse here. Children shows very much can introduce comlex themes and grey morals and plenty already have. If you make classism a major theme of your story then you need to actually address it, and that starts by having your main character acknowledge it. 

This could have been the perfect opportunity for Rapunzel to grow. Up till now she’s always had her physical needs provided for her. Since her escape from the tower she’s also been thoroughly spoiled. Have her come down off her high horse and see how the other half lives. See first hand what Eugene and the pub thugs had to do to survive before they met her.      

Have her things actually be confiscated. Have her princess title mean nothing cause no one knows her or believes her. Have Corona not recognized in this part of the world. You want to be the underdog then make her an actual underdog and have her learn from it.  

Because Rapunzel having the moral outlook of child makes sense given her backstory, but she can’t stay that way. We all have to grow up sometime, we all have to learn the harsher truths of this world, and this is suppose to be a coming of age story. 

So How Does Stalyan Know Where the Eye Is But Not Eugene?

If Eugene is the one who lost it, then how come he didn’t know where it was at? Why couldn’t he just have told Rapunzel all of this and left Staylan out of the picture? Also how do you know if Goodberry even still has it if it’s been years ago? How do you know where Goodberry is? It’s awfully convenient that he never moved in all that time and that he’s so close to the town of Pincosta. 

Once again, plot holes. 

Stalyan is a Poor Man’s Sadira

So for those of you who aren’t 90s kids like myself, Sadira is a villian from the Aladdin tv series. She’s basically Stalyan but done better. 

Things they have in common 

their goals are to marry the main hero, who are ex-thieves

both are jealous of the main heroines who are princesses 

both are thieves themselves and have lived their whole lives as such 

both believe they belong with the hero because they come from a common background 

both resort to dubious means to win the heart of the hero

both try to get rid of the heroines but never resort to killing them out right 

both are redeemed and eventually befriends the princesses 

You know what the difference between the two of them is? 

Sadira is actions are actually worse than Staylan’s but she’s given enough screen time and focus to come across as sympathetic to the audience. 

I’m serious. Stalyan is an ex who was left at the altar by her douchey boyfriend, but their relationship was so toxic that she can’t understand that she’s actually better off without him nor accept that he left her for someone else. So she tries manipulating him into coming back to her, while her dad does some messed up blackmail and poisoning that she didn’t agree to but went along with anyways. 

Meanwhile Sadria is a straight up stalker. She doesn’t even meet Aladdin until after the events of the first film, and he makes it clear to her from the get go that he’s in a committed relationship with someone else and isn’t interested in her. But Sadria tries episode after episode to ‘win’ him resorting to mindwipes, kidnapping, and even alternating reality. 

But we actually see things from Sadria’s perspective. It’s made clear that she has no one and nothing. Aladdin is the first person to show her kindness and so she latches onto him. Sure it’s unhealthy and the series calls it out as such, but by the time she has acknowledged this and befriends Jasmine the audience now understands her and feels sympathy for her.   

We get no such focus for Stalyan. Not even in her redemption episode. We still don't know why she wants to be with Eugene after he’s treated her so badly. We still don't have any clue what their relationship was like before the breakup, or even when the breakup happened. (I still think it was during the events of the movie and that he left her for Rapunzel, but it’s left open) It’s hard to relate to or feel sorry for Stakyan when we know nothing about her and haven’t seen this ‘good side’ Rapunzel keeps talking about for ourselves. 

Even though theoretically she should be very sympathetic because of the way Eugene treated her, and because her actions thus far are relatively tame compared to most of the villains in the show. 

Just Because Other Places in the World Are As Bad as Corona, Doesn’t Mean That Frederic Is Excused For His Behavior 

This show thinks it’s a okay to introduce horrible crap so long as it’s done in a comedic way and not focused on, but this isn’t The Office. You can’t use a corrupt legal system and authoritarians abusing their power as the crux of your main conflict in season one and then expect us to just laugh off jokes like this one. Or the one about tailor getting locked up for ripping Frederic’s robe. Or find young Lance trapped in a cell with Shorty being fed gruel as funny. 

Like, even if you do laugh at these jokes at first in the moment, once you stop to think about them, it just shows how awful Frederic and Rapunzel are, how awful the system is, and that change needs to happen. But it can’t happen if Rapunzel and the show doesn’t acknowledge that such things are wrong. That they are more than jokes. 

The serious story that the writers want to tell is undermined by the comedy, and the comedic moments are undermined by the existence of the more serious drama.   

So is this a sitcom or a drama? It can’t be both, not when dealing with such high stakes. 

Sitcoms work because they’re low stakes. Few characters are affected and most situations aren’t life and death. Even in dark comedies where death is often the joke, it’s because death is seen as unimportant, something to be casted aside, and it’s funny because it’s disrespectful. But the moment you call to attention just how messed up everything really is, and how awful death can be, then it’s suddenly no longer funny. Especially if it’s innocents who are getting hurt. Dark comedies also work because it’s often computuance for characters who are awful people. 

That’s not what TTS is, so it’s attempts at being like It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia or Rick and Morty just doesn’t work and comes across as tone deaf. 

Also why are the dang horses in the cell with the humans? They’re horses! 

So What Exactly Is Stalyan’s Plan Here?

No seriously, what is her thought processes here? The audience isn’t mind readers. We need know why the characters do the things they do. 

Why is Stalyan still hung up on Eugene? Why does Stalyan think he’ll take her back if she shows up to free him without Rapunzel? What is she going to say when he asks about Raps and why would he even believe her to begin with? 

What does ‘A thief belongs with a thief’ even mean!!? We have no context for this cause we have no context for their relationship! 

This episode could have provided us with some context, some cule of why Stalyan and Eugene were together for so long, why they broke up, why she still wants to be with him, why she thinks he’ll return to her even now, but nope! We gotta have a stupid parody wrestling match.  

Oh joy. 

This Is a Guilt Trip, Not a Redemption 

Rapunzel is full of shit. 

If she honestly believed that there was ‘good in everybody’ then why did she send Caine off on the prison barge without even trying to relate to her? Why didn’t she try to befriend Weasel instead of fighting him off? Why is Varian currently sitting in a jail cell right now!!!  

Here’s why Stalyan was ‘redeemed’ and not the others. 

Rapunzel needed something from her. 

Rapunzel guilt trips, manipulates, and coerces Stalyan into helping her. She doesn’t actually give a damn about whether or not Stalyan ‘does the right thing’ so long as she gets what she wants; Eugene’s freedom and his heart.

Sure Stalyan probably should turn away from her life of crime. She should let go of her obsession with Eugene. She should return the eye that she stole and start making up for her past. But you know what? 

None of those things have anything to do with Rapunzel! 

Stalyan needs to come to those decisions herself in order for this to be a proper redemption. If Rapunzel is involved in any of that then it can’t be with the condition that she’s gaining something from it. It’s not true compassion if you have an ulterior motive for what you do.   

This Confession Might Actually Have Meant Something If We Had Any Actual Context! 

This doesn’t tell me anything. 

Why would Stalyan only see ‘a thief’? She loved him enough to want to marry him and has known him for years. Sure she may have accepted that he was a thief, encouraged it even, but there’s got to be other reasons why she dated him. Other reasons for why she wanted him back. 

Also why does this come back to Rapunzel specifically? Is she the reason why he left Staylan at the altar? And even so, why is that a reason to give Eugene a free pass? Is it just because she’s the protag and now they’re friends suddenly? 

In fact if you are friends now, then Rapunzel deserves to know the truth of who she plans on marrying and come to the decision if he’s worth it. If he really has changed, not just in terms of being an ex-thief but also in how he handles relationships. 

We the audience deserve to know too. 

Redemption Shouldn’t be Tied to Friendship With Rapunzel 

Eugene becoming inspired to be a better person because he fell in love with someone is one thing. Rapunzel only forgiving people because they’ll befriend her is entirely another. Especially when two of the main villains become villains after they stop being friends with her. 

It sends out a really gross message of favoritism and not letting go of toxic relationships, while also placing Rapunzel too high upon a pedestal.   

Rapunzel Can’t Forgive Stalyan In Eugene’s Place 

I’d be pretty upset if my current spouse just said that my abusive ex ‘was not that bad’.

Like, fuck both of you. 

And yes, I did defend Stalyan in Beyond the Corona Walls, and I did say that we didn’t have enough context to claim she was abusive when they were in a relationship. After the breakup tho? Yeah, yeah she was abusive then. You don't have to be in a relationship in order to bully someone; you just have to have power over them. 

Stalyan hurt Eugene, not Rapunzel. That’s why any redemption with her needed to be with him. They both needed to make amends, forgive each other, and move on. 

This isn’t Rapunzel’s show. 

If the creator wanted it to be her show then he shouldn’t have introduced conflicts that don’t actually involve her, nor characters with higher stakes then her. 

This Doesn’t Feel Earned, and So the Audience Feels Cheated 

And so Stalyan rides off into the sunset rich to live happily ever after presumably as a thief still, and no one gave a shit.  

No one was asking for this. No one cared about Stalyan. Worse the writer failed to make us care. Ergo this whole episode feels like a waste and it is. 

Conclusion 

Much like the rest of season two this is pure filler, and not even good fun filler; like with the mermaid episode or the pirate episode. Worse it’s very existence actually diminishes Rapunzel as a character rather than build her up. So it fails in its sole purpose as a story.