#but i feel like this show is about grief and trauma and support and recovery

[keepthetension]

been in the Bad Brain place lately, so i've been struggling to finish writing about why chef mhon's character makes sense to me, because of

a) the long-term effects of the WORLD SHAKING trauma of your life partner abandoning you AND of being unable to feed yourself and your children b) being unable to process said trauma much (if at all), as you then hit the ground running to make a living in the aftermath (in a new city with no support and with who knows what marketable skills) c) the stigma of being a divorced woman in a society that will blame you for being the reason your marriage failed in the first place, and will also blame you for any way your children step out of line d) the difficulties of achieving success as a working mother when employers see women as flakier, less-worthy hires, especially in a male-dominated industry

and how no amount of money or stability will ever seem like enough, and how difficult it is to trust anyone plus how easy it is to see everything as a potential danger to the stability you fought tooth and nail for, and how it makes sense for a traumatized person who never had the time and support to work through their trauma to project all kinds of things onto their kids

but apparently she just kinda. walked it off?

[puredoesnotmeankind]

These two excellent ILITW metas by @spacetravels really got me thinking about the 'Everyone Plays Together' scene in regards to Noah and MC. Regardless whether everyone else survives or dies, it is between them to take the place of the monster, in Jane's stead. Because, while everyone else was traumatized from what happened when they were kids, they were more-so stuck in their grief for Jane, the person they both loved so much, and their failure to have protected her. And by the end, they're the only ones who aren't to push past their respective traumas and insecurities. In the 'Everyone survives' ending, while everyone else is able to defend themselves and confront Jane when she taunts them about their insecurities, MC instead breaks down apologizing and never actually stands up for themselves.

(sorry for the shitty quality of the last one, I forgot to take my own screenshot and had to use a different one)

And Noah continues to blame himself for everything that had happened, instead of accepting that he was just an innocent kid who had no way of knowing what Redfield was capable and of stopping him from killing Jane. That he was not at fault for what had happened.

Noah and Devon's trauma and insecurities overlap (having been unable to save Jane when they felt they were the ones responsible for her protection) but manifest in different ways. MC feels like they need to save everyone, even at their own expense (like during the scene where they confronted Redfield, knowing that they could've died).

While Noah blames himself and falls into self-hatred and depression, being unable and not allowing himself to move on.

In the end, only one of them is able to be saved. Like everyone else, they're both tested by Jane, to see if they are able to overcome their trauma or if they succumb to it.

Noah is put under Jane's control, which symbolizes how his entire life, Jane's death has had a hold over him. His lack of a support system and his mother constantly blaming him has led him to centre his entire self over what happened back then. If his nerve is high enough, he's able to break her hold over him. If not, he succumbs to her influence over him and kills MC.

If Noah is able to break through, their fates are in MC's hands, which is MC's test. It's established that MC has a saviour complex, stemming from their past inability to have protected Jane. That's why it's MC's choice, not Noah's, of who sacrifices themselves.

Should MC choose to let Noah take Jane's place, it shows they're putting themselves first for once, and breaking their cycle of trying to save everyone. But if they choose to save Jane themselves/give Noah another chance on their own expense, while it was a selfless move, stemming from their love for Jane and want to save Noah, it was one that showed they had yet to overcome their guilt (and now would no longer be able to) and still felt like saving others were their responsibility.

That's what makes this final choice so interesting because neither choices are wrong or right. Would it be better for MC to let Noah make up for his last mistake and die content after a life of loneliness and self-hatred, being stuck in his grief about Jane to never have amounted into anything else? Or if they sacrifice themselves, letting Noah a chance of redemption and recovery while also robbing him the one thing that would've allowed him to finally feel at peace? And what about themselves? Is it better to be selfless and putting others in front of themselves like they've always done? Is it selflessness when Noah didn't even want MC to sacrifice themselves? And would it be fair to themselves?

There's no better or worse choice. It's just whatever choice MC chooses and the both of them have to live with it.

(another thing worth noting is how whoever out of MC and Noah do survive are shown in ILB/ILW to still be stuck on their past, but now in regards to each other and their past choices (MC letting Noah sacrifice himself/not saving him that day or Noah's actions leading to MC being put in a position where they choose to sacrifice themselves) with MC obsessing over trying to save Noah or Noah trying to bring MC back and undo his mistake but that's a post for another day)

[multi-lefaiye]

Hi there! I'm sending this to as many people as possible to show support for writers/writblr/writeblr. How are you? What do you love about writing and what are you proud of in terms of what you've written or the characters you've made?

hi athena!!!! thank you for reaching out, i appreciate it!! :'> i'm doing okay, thank you!!! having kind of a rough go of it mentally lately but i'm gonna be alright!!!

i haven't gotten a lot of writing done lately unfortunately, at least aside from rp responses (and even then i've definitely fallen behind).

however! what i love about writing is being able to share the stories of the little blorbos bouncing around in my head!!! i am full of gay little blorbos and i must unleash them upon the world.

jokes aside, i also love to explore a lot of concepts that are important to me, like grief and trauma, in a way that's nuanced. and i'm not gonna try and assume any big lofty goals with that because i mainly just vibe, but i like the idea of maybe helping people feel a little less alone in whatever they may be going through.

in terms of what i've written or the characters i've made, one thing i'm really proud of is actually my character roach!!! which might be kind of a strange answer because i haven't shared a lot of my recent Roach Thoughts, but i'm realizing that roach's character arc is going to be very intensely personal and center heavily around self-acceptance and recovery, both in a literal sense and a metaphorical sense. i'm really proud of what i've decided for their story arc, and it's something i'm really excited to explore.

[femsolid]

Any good book recommendations or saved posts about body image? Stress and poverty play a role for me, but I keep relapsing with my eating disorder... I am having the hardest time accepting my body even though logically I know, it weighs what its suppose to weigh, looks the way its suppose to look, although I am not teeny tiny or "conventual." I miss my anorexia a lot... I hate and feel ashamed of my body and am trying not to. My mother told me a doctor would say 120 pounds was healthy but she felt it was "too heavy." I was 13 and only 100 pounds when she told me this... My father also sexually assaulted me and was a grandiose narcissistic who constantly sexualized my body. I struggle to even feel my body is mine. My mother was a covert/vulnerable narcissist who felt the world was unfair to her, was in denial of the abuse and hated me for "making" her feel like a bad mom, and could not take criticism. I starved myself from periodically from ages 14-21 to lose rapid weight, usually in the summer, and got a lot of praise and compliments. I starved to stay at 105 pounds. Then sought recovery and she kept bullying me about my food portions, and complained that I was gaining weight. I was in shcok and so grief stricken and anxious by her behavior that I started throwing up and she told me I was vomiting because I was eating too much and encouraged me to vomit or to eat less. She's dead and I am still in shock. I struggle to love my body now... I feel so fat and ugly. I know beauty standards are based on pedophila and being thin is based on this oppressive system, but I feel so damaged and worthless over the praise I got for being thin, and being dehumanized where no one cared that I was essentially harming my health by starving myself, as long as I had virtually no body fat. I hate the fat on my body, and have rationalized that its ok to eat 1,800 despite my doctors orders to eat 1,800, telling myself its arbitrary advice. I hate this disease, and am afraid I will never feel good enough :( (sorry for the sob story; I love and believe in radical feminism, but due to trauma, can't apply it to myself, it doesn't register emotionally. I worry no one will ever love me or find me attractive because I am "so fat." I have a puffy tummy, but my jeans are only 24 inches... so my mind must be distorted. I have relapsed twice this month. I dont want to feel this way. I don't want to hate myself or my body. I wish I had a men in black stick to forget the trauma or their mean words, it has taken over my reality. I think people are full of it when they pull the (also harmful, cause it still tailors to the male gaze,) idea that men "prefer thick women" when a disturbing amount of men and women idealize anorxia. What is the obsession with women being only 105 pounds? Kim Kardisharin I remeber was saying she was only 105, my ex roommate further damaged me by bragging, like she was superior, that she was only 105 pounds. I feel so fat and ugly, I miss the love I got for being skinny. I felt most loved when I was sick and skinny.

Well that was a heartbreaking read... I'm so sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry you weren't protected and supported as every child should be. Sadly I can relate to a lot of what you describe. Feminism definitely helped me feel better about my body but it's not easy to get your abusive parents' voice out of your head. I was just looking into the very subject of eating disorders and anorexia lately, and I found this post about being praised for being sick and skinny that really shows that your experience is sadly all too common. I have a body category on my blog if you want to go through posts on the subject of body image.

I do have some book recommendations for you:

Unbearable Weight by Susan Bordo, especially these chapters:

The Politics Of Weight by Amelia Morris

Beauty Sick by Renee Engeln

Wasted, A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia by Maria Hornbasher

Hunger, A Memoir of (My) Body by Roxane Gay

On the topic of child abuse and the resultant cptsd I would recommend:

A Practical Guide to C-PTSD and The C-PTSD Workbook by Arielle Schwartz

Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents by Lindsay C. Gibson

Daughter Detox by Peg Streep

Running On Empty by Jonice Webb

I have a blog where I share things that I find helpful to recover from child abuse and trauma. Also, finding a good trauma informed therapist could be helpful, especially considering you have been sexually abused.

I would also recommend these two uplifting books:

Self Compassion by Kristin Neff

So that you stop being so harsh on yourself.

The Joy of Movement by Kelly McGonigal

So that you focus on what your body can do instead of what your body looks like.

[reyesstrand]

Different anon but like... I totally understand TK's reasons to try and keep Carlos out of what he thinks is a mess and it is sweet and protective of him in a way but God if that was with me I'd feel so betrayed, emotionally speaking. I felt so bad for Carlos I cried half the episode because I've been in similar situations during past relationships and that with some extra outside trauma can make for heavy heartbreaking feelings. If it was with me I'd probably break up and I know that sounds too harsh and shows a lot of problems like insecurity and deeper issues, but I just don't know how to go back from that. I'm glad they will be able to get past this, though. Hopefully we'll see a lot of character growth (individually and as a couple). I'm a little sad with TK, however... can't shake that feeling yet but hopefully I will soon, because I truly enjoyed his character so far.

first, i just wanted to say that i totally understand where you’re coming from. everyone brings different experiences to their viewing of the show, and things will naturally hit people differently. and i’m truly sorry you had to go through those feelings, anon, and hope it wasn’t too hard for you. my answer is more so about the episode as it stands, not your viewing experience.

speaking of the scenes from a narrative standpoint, it makes sense that we feel that way, because that’s the goal, in my mind. as we see things from carlos’ pov, the writers want us to feel just as betrayed/confused as he is. even though it was a hard decision for tk and the reality of the scenario had nothing to do with carlos personally—as rafael even points out here, where he notes that carlos has to deal with wanting control despite this being something he can’t fix because it’s not about him, it’s about tk—of course we’ll feel bad.

but unlike carlos, and this is what’s important to remember, i think, is that we’ve seen things from tk’s perspective.

after 3x08, we have more concrete knowledge of the reality of tk’s addiction than we did ever before. we saw how he was grappling with his grief (which carlos didn’t) on the plane, at work/at the support meeting with tommy, even the call tonight with the boy losing his mother. and so we understand where he’s coming from. he was very clearly not doing this to intentionally hurt carlos. i don’t see how this complexity negatively impacts tk’s character but i think that’s a bigger issue for another day. and the most important thing is that we did see them talk it through, we saw them get their emotions out in the open, and at least for them, they’re going to get past it. this will all be a part of tk’s recovery, and their emotional recovery as a couple, which is what they both seemed to need tonight as they look toward a future together.

[captainpikeachu]

What I desperately want for The Old Guard sequel is a storyline focused on Joe, Nicky, and Booker dealing with the emotional fallout from the first film.

Obviously Andy, Quynh, and Nile should still have the main center and driven action of the story, but I really want a softer emotional side story driven by the men. Because men in action movies rarely get that type of a story.

We in this fandom talk a lot about how the film is subversive and how it switched gender roles in letting the male characters play caretaker roles and do the emotional heavy lifting. And I want that to continue in the sequel. Especially because the emotional fallout between Joe, Nicky, and Booker is the one aspect of the story that we never got to see fully addressed.

Nile was ready to let Booker back with an apology, and Andy has essentially forgiven Booker the moment she realized why he did what he did, so both of them don’t have any fallout to address when it comes to Booker. But it is Joe and Nicky who haven’t gotten that chance to truly verbalize their emotions, and it is Joe and Nicky who suffered the most because of Booker’s choices. So I want the sequel to address that, and I don’t want us as the audience to be robbed of what could be an emotionally satisfying and powerful story where male characters’ main narratives aren’t about might is right and punching things to defeat their foe, but rather one dealing with emotional pain and accountability and reconciliation and forgiveness.

So much of modern media, especially action films, are driven by male characters committing some sort of violent act, often retribution in an eye for an eye, and that’s suppose to be heroic and cathartic. But it’s not, it’s just this continued perpetuation that link men to violence rather than highlighting that men should also deal with emotions and feelings in a healthy way.

The Old Guard did so well in centering its emotional heart with male characters that I want to see it continue. I don’t want the story to ignore what happened and just go with “oh Booker is back now and everyone just moved on” because the plot requires it. I want this to be a story where the characters actually address their feelings, talk about what happened to them, and how they feel, and how they can find their way back to each other.

Look, I’m not expecting some sprawling expansive deep narrative exploring trauma and recovery and forgiveness in all its stages, I get that this is a 2 hour movie at best and there are limitations. So I’m keeping my hopes realistic as possible that we simply get some interactions between Joe, Nicky, and Booker where they lay out all their feelings on the table and come to a consensus, whatever it may be. Because there is a story there to be told, an important story that we so rarely see in action films with male characters, and we have all the pieces set up for that story to happen. It would be a shame to let that go by and not take even just a tiny part of a sequel to address it. Especially when the comics even give basis for that narrative to take place in.

If Booker gets taken and tortured by Quynh as it goes down in the comics, then Nicky and Joe planning the rescue (which they do in the comics) can have far more emotional resonance. They can discuss their anger at Booker while also affirming their care for him and desire to see him unharmed, because they are good people who wouldn’t wish upon that kind of violence for their worst enemies, much less someone they love. And they do love him, and you can’t tell me that walking away was somehow easy for them or that it didn’t hurt them or that they don’t miss him.

And I want Booker to fully recognize his own love for this family, for Nicky and Joe, for the bond they all share, and that they all also love him in return and that he is not alone as he might feel like sometimes. That he can choose to do right by them, be strong for them, stand up for them, look beyond just his grief, and atone for the wrong choices he made and accept that responsibility.

I want their reunion TO MATTER. I want it to hit that emotional satisfaction, not just they get him back and it moves on like nothing happened before and all is well now.

I want the three of them to talk, really talk, and address how they all feel and where they stand with each other and how they can move forward.

If they cry or hug then even better. Show men experiencing emotions. Show men having conversations about those emotions. Show men talk about trauma and grief and depression as valid human issues that DOESN’T make men weak. Show men giving each other affection and support. Show men loving each other. Show men deal with trauma and pain and grief and anger in HEALTHY NON-TOXIC WAYS WITHOUT VIOLENT RETRIBUTION.

Show men supporting each other through the good and the bad.

Show men holding hands in silent support when they need it.

Let men CARE about each other.

[taegris]

A WRECK LIKE THIS 

Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: apocalypse, quarantine, disease, pandemic, angst, major character death, anxiety/childhood trauma, horror, blood, gun, COVID-19, violence, cursing, grief, long death, reanimated (?)/ post mortem talk, unfortunate slow burn :/

Insp: Old Yeller by Joji (specifically, a tiktok by emeryhoneys using this audio that has since been deleted. :/ )

Playlist

Summary: You and Jungkook met online during the COVID-19 pandemic, and have been friends ever since, through everything. You each watched as the other healed from the trauma caused by growing up through such catastrophic events, and supported each other through it all. So when a new virus quickly starts to spread, you turn to each other to survive, making promises to each other that you later find very hard to keep. 

Author’s note:

This oneshot has heavy themes and viewer discretion is strongly advised. While I have a warning list, I want to reiterate;please don’t read this if you are affected by death, violence, heavy grieving, and anything to do with disease. I know that this is a sensitive topic today and I would like to remind you that while this world is scary, the world I am showing in this story is entirely fictional and is not meant to reflect on what will happen during recent historical events, as it is entirely imagined. Thank you for reading and as always, if you have any questions or comments, my ask box is open. Thanks!

A HUGE THANK YOU to @kookoosbunnynose, @kinktae, and @cheeky-kookie for beta-reading the initial drafts of this monster of a project I have been working on forever lol. Y’all are the reason I kept going, seriously, and I appreciate each of your feedback and support so incredibly much. 

20 December 2029, 03:35 PM

The trees are wilting. 

Perhaps it is the lack of rain, perhaps the smog plaguing the cityscape you’re surrounded by, perhaps it’s too cold again, after a false spring. The image scares you though, and with the recent global situation, you could have used a nice depiction of the outside world. 

You choose to look at the artificial grass instead, hearty plants laced with plastic that stay green year round. A blessing and a curse, you decide, to have a grey landscape with the only beacon of life being something so fabricated. Instead of a comfort, it feels like an omen. 

You can’t stop yourself from looking once more at your phone. 

BREAKING NEWS: REVII-29 OUTBREAK SPREADS TO EUROPE

You lock your screen as fast as you can, squeezing your eyes tight, banishing the notification from your mind. Your anxiety got the best of you, again. Frustrated, you struggle to regain your composure. You attempt to count the ducks in the manmade pond across the way from the bench you’re sitting on. 

Four. No, five. One of them was too small to see at first, but he’s there. 

“Y/N!” 

You whip your head to the left to see Jungkook running up to you from the winding path, smiling brightly in your direction. 

“Hey!” you say, standing just in time for a bone crushing hug. Your body relaxes in his embrace, and suddenly . . . shit’s not so scary anymore. 

“Did you see the news?” he says, catching his breath and pointing his phone screen to you, eyes glinting.

“Yeah, I did.” You say back, returning your gaze to the ducks. 

“Well… did you see that he’s recovering?”

You turn to him, eyes wide. “Who?”

“The first victim! His vitals are improving dramatically. According to the doctors, he should make a full recovery.” 

You smile, sitting back on the bench below you. “Really?”

He ruffles your hair, a grin on his face. “Yeah, really. Why would I lie about that stuff?”

“I don’t know.” you say, looking down at your feet. He sits next to you, gazing out to the pond. It’s silent for a moment.

“How many?” he asks, gesturing over to the ducks. You look to him.

“Five.”

“Five?”

“Yeah, there’s one hiding behind the one on the right. Why?”

“You count when you’re anxious.” he smiles, catching your gaze. You frown. “What’s going on in that head of yours, dove?”

You sigh and suck in a breath, turning back to him.

“I’m trying to stay level headed and not look at the propaganda, it’s just… it’s scary, you know? It’s only been a week, and it’s already spread so quickly-”

“Hey,” he starts, eyes gazing firmly into yours and hands pressed gently to your shoulders. “Let’s remind ourselves of what we know, yeah?” You take a deep breath in. “What are the symptoms again? Coughing, fever, headaches. . .”

“Cases are now showing paralysis as well.”

“Yeah, that’s right. But no death. There hasn’t been a single death from this disease since the outbreak. It’s just some new flu or-”

“But paralyzed.”

“Yes,” a small frown appears on his face. 

“Which makes it harder for those with breathing issues to breathe, and, like, ANYONE to eat or shower or sleep or get help-”

“Yes, but- nobody is dying. Okay?” he searches your eyes for any signs of distress, before smiling kindly and placing a comforting hand on the side of your face. “Nobody’s gonna die.” 

It’s silent for a moment as you feel the weight lift from your heart and you lean into his hand, a smile spreading across your face. You lift your head and start to fix your hair, which has now been completely disheveled. Jungkook smirks at that, returning his gaze to the water.

“Why do you insist on fucking up my hair?” you whine with a pout.

“Your hair was fucked up before I got here.”

“Hey!” you hit him and he laughs, doubling over at the waist. You can’t help but laugh as well, abs hurting from the joy you feel. Finally it dies down, and Jungkook stands, brushing himself off before jogging down the path once more.

“Let’s go! Come on!” he encourages.

“Wait up!” you call, frantically tying your laces. 

“You’re slow!” he calls back, rounding the corner. You groan, quickly tying off the knot in your shoelaces and sprinting after him.

15 January 2030, 01:33 PM

“Fuck yeah!” Jungkook cheers, jumping up and down on the grass. You groan, your footsteps stilling on the pavement.

“You cheated.” you grumble, bending down to retie your shoelace.

“How do you cheat at running?” Jungkook teases, bending to your level.

“I don’t know exactly, but you figured it out,” you pout, standing back up to sulk. He laughs and walks up to you, offering a hug. You cave and find yourself in his arms.

“Maybe next time, dove.” he muses, holding you close. You pull away to look up at him.

“Yeah, if you don’t cheat.”

“Maybe you should run faster,” he flicks your forehead, making your eyebrow furrow.

“Hey!” you smack him and he laughs, playfully jogging away from you. You go to chase after him when your phone starts blaring an alarm.

ATTENTION: FIRST VICTIM OF REVII-29 FOUND DEAD IN HIS HOME. CITY WIDE QUARANTINE WILL BE IMPLEMENTED IN 12 HOURS.

Your blood runs cold. 

“Not again,” you whisper, starting to shake.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Jungkook calls, his voice sounding far away. Your body barely registers his grip on your shoulders as your vision pulsates, breaths uneven and shallow. One of his hands drops from your shoulder to pick up your phone. When he sees the alert, you hear him sigh in frustration and fear.

“Y/N!” Jungkook’s voice snaps him into focus again in front of you, eyebrows knit together with concern. Your lip trembles, and you wish you could will your body to stop shaking.

“I can’t do this again,” you whisper, voice cracking through the syllables. He lets out a painful breath and pulls you close.

“This isn’t COVID.” he says, voice low and soft. “This isn’t COVID, okay?” he whispers, holding you tighter, and you know that he is trying to convince himself as much as you. You nod, pulling him tighter. “And besides, we can FaceTime just like last time, okay? And play Animal Crossing…”

“That game is so old,” you say, attempting to bring a smile to his face, body starting to calm.

“Are you telling me you’ve abandoned the peach trees on your island?” he says, feigning shock. You laugh, the sound surprising you.

“Fine, maybe I’ll visit your shitty ass island, if you’re nice.”

“Hey, my island’s great. I got a raccoon and everything.”

“Jungkook, everyone has Tom Nook, you’re not special.” 

It’s silent for a moment as you both relax into a small tremble, both obviously still scared for what’s to come but crippling panic gone, for the most part. You hold him for a little longer, wanting to hold on to the last moment of normalcy for the foreseeable future. Eventually, you let your grip loosen, and he slips from your arms, both now sitting in the grass. 

“Hey, I don’t have to drag you from bed to come run with me anymore.” Jungkook says, the joke landing bittersweet on the both of you.

“You never had to drag me out, really.” you admit, smiling. “I like running with you.”

“Well, I’d hope so.” Jungkook scoffs, and you laugh, which makes him smile back. 

“Maybe we can do virtual runs.” you muse.

“What?” Jungkook looks at you, confused.

“Yeah, like, running in place on FaceT-”

“Uh, no,” he laughs.

“And why not?”

“That’d be ridiculous!” He looks at you, grinning ear to ear. You notice you’re not shaking anymore.

“Okay, fine, fine. We’ll just get fat then,” you grin up at him before looking back to the grass.

It’s silent for a moment, both of you contemplating how to make the situation stay light and happy. Easy.

“He was old.” You say softly, looking at your feet in front of you, tapping your heel to the ground. He nods.

“He was. And he already had health issues.” he agrees, tone mostly convincing. You both nod to yourselves for a moment. 

“We’ll be okay.” you say, voice stronger than it has been since the outbreak. Jungkook grips your hand and stands up.

“Yep, we will.” he says, offering to pull you up. You stand as he pulls on your hand, then follow as he keeps walking.

“Well, want to go get some food before the end of the world?” He says, looking back at you. You laugh and nod, standing on only slightly shaky legs, and walk forward down the concrete path.

12 February 2030, 08:59 PM

“Stop hitting me with your fucking net.” Jungkook deadpans, his Animal Crossing character running as fast as his little legs can carry him. You cackle into the microphone, glancing at his pixelated frame in the monitor as he frowns at his switch’s screen.

“You asked for this.” you say before turning and stealing cherries from his island’s native trees.

“God, you have not changed.” he sighs, a small smile on his face. You feel warmth in your chest.

“I like to think the me of today would not have named my island Fuit Gummy.”

“The you of today is not ten years old.” he reminds you, turning his character to smack you with the net. “And get off my trees, I work hard on those.”

“Shut up, you don’t do shit.” you grumble, getting off his trees. A moment later, you hear Jungkook gasp and look up.

“Didn’t you need to go grocery shopping?” he asks.

You look at the time. 9:00 PM.

“Oh, shit-” You say, cutting yourself off as you snap your laptop closed, grab the mask and keys dangling from your key holder and book it out the door, an hour left to get supplies.

-

With the panic following the announcement of the shutdown, supplies have run scarce amidst the shelves, dented cans of sweet corn rolling across the barren aisles before being snatched by greedy palms. You squeeze past a swarm of shoppers to crouch to the bottom shelf, grabbing the items shoved to the back of the shelving unit that others hadn’t seen yet; beans, sauces, canned pastas. In other aisles you’re able to find stray sanitizers and cleaners, even lucky enough to find a few extra masks, stuffed behind some bedding. You feel satisfied; it’s enough to live for a week before you’d have to make another run, enough time for the new shipments of emergency stock to come in. You take your place in line, basket only slightly digging into the soft bend of your arm as you shift foot to foot, watching customer after customer leave. Confusion and concern etches their worn faces, bags of rations stacked in their carts. You wonder for a brief moment how many of these people will survive this.

“Hi there, did you find everything okay?” a familiar cashier says in a flat tone, lips curling into a cautious smile as she starts to scan the items. You miss the way her smile used to light up her checklane, once bright eyes now dull and insipid.

Guess retail will do that to you, you muse.

“Hey, Stacy,” you say to the cashier, attempting to lighten the mood. “Haven’t seen-”

“Glad to hear that.” She says, dropping a can of black beans.

You blink, startled by the interruption. The incessant beep of the scanner is monotonous against the silence, filling the air instead of the usual pleasant conversation you’d have with Stacy. Suddenly you’re too aware of the mask against your skin, your jacket’s worn seam on your wrist, the murmurs of people muttering their concerns into the air, droning on and on. Worse, you are met with the sound of aluminum cans hitting the tile below, missing the bag and rolling away from the checkout. A can of SpaghettiOs drops, hitting Stacy directly on the top of her foot and bouncing to the toe of your shoe.

She doesn’t flinch.

“Stacy?” you call, waving your hand in front of her face in an attempt to snap her out of it.

“That will be $9.99,” she says, eyes not quite reaching yours. You give up, picking up the items and bagging them with the purchases that did make it in. You dig out the cash and put it on the counter, but realize she is already ringing up the next customer. 

As you walk away, you hear the sound of cans hitting the tile floor.

“What are you doing?” the man exclaims, picking up a can-crushed loaf of garlic bread. “I oughta tell your ma-”

“That will be $9.99.”

Your blood runs cold.

You turn around to see an employee come behind Stacy, guiding her to walk to the employee’s entrance.

“Come on, Stacy. It’s time for your break,” she says, voice faltering. You turn sharply back around, leaving the store and heading down the cobblestone walkway to your street, shoes scuffing against the pavement.

At 9:54 PM, you get a text from Jungkook.

Jungkook: Did you grab toilet paper?

You manage a soft laugh, a sound tainted sour with dread.

You: didn’t even have a chance

28 February 2030 04:54 AM

[4 missed calls from: Jungkook]

Jungkook: CALL ME!!!!! (when you get a chance)

You stare at the text, eyes crusted from sleep. Your eyes flick to the time, then glare back down at the words on your screen. The son of a bitch woke you up at 5 in the goddamn morning. Why the hell is he up? 

You call him, hoping it’s not something too important so you can go back to sleep.

Within two rings, your ears are assaulted with garbled english your brain is too tired to quite comprehend.

“THANKGODYOU’REAWAKE!DidyouheartheNEWS?SomepeopleIguessarelikewakingup rightliketheCASHIERbutit’snotwakingupexactlyit’slikethey’reZOMBIESwellnotquitezombiesBUTLIKE-”

“Jungkook slow the fuck down, it’s 5 AM-”

“SORRY- sorry.” he takes a quick breath. “The people that are waking up- you know about that right?”

“Yeah, I think I read something-” you mumble, sitting up in your bed to turn on a light.

“Like the cashier, the cashier from like two weeks ago -”

“Stacy, yeah, the one that woke back up-”

“That’s the thing- they AREN’T waking up.”

You pause, staring at a spot on the wall as you wrap your mind around the thought.

“What, so like a ghost?” 

“Well, not exactly- Their body is there, but-” he sucks in a breath, tripping over jumbled thoughts.

“Then how-”

“It’s the virus, I guess. It’s lasting longer than the host.”

“...what?” you stand, your feet pacing in a figure 8 on the wooden floor of your apartment.

“They’re calling it a twitch. The host dies, but the virus attaches itself to the nervous system and takes over while the body goes through the motions of life until the virus is dead. It’s like the virus is trying to live and spread as much as possible before their lifespan is complete.”

“So, Stacy…”

“Full time cashier, clocks in and out everyday.. It’s probably muscle memory at that point.”

It’s silent, your brain running miles a minute.

“How is a virus even capable of this?” you ask.

“That’s what scientists can’t figure out! I mean, I guess it’s probable because like viruses are technically parasites and spread by taking over cells, but to take over an ENTIRE nervous system, I mean, they’d have to replicate by the thousands! And to get it to operate without the host being alive and retrieve memories and tasks-” Jungkook’s voice is excitable, growing in volume and energy as he continues on.

“Christ…”

“They were running tests on some of the bodies to try to figure it out but the government pulled funding-” “WHAT? Why the fuck would they do that!?” you stop in your tracks.

“They SAID they should focus on a cure, but-” he says, voice dropping in volume.

“But?”

“I don’t think so. I think something bigger is going on.” his tone shifts, more serious now.

“Like what?” you say, ignoring the goosebumps that have spread across your skin.

“Notice how the only ones getting infected are old, or had preexisting medical conditions?”

“Yeah, we talked about that.”

“I think that this is on purpose.”

Your eyes go wide.

“I think this is on purpose, some government issued assassination-”

“What-”

“Okay well not assassination, because that’s too like pointed but like I think this infection is manmade, on purpose. Maybe some sort of population control? It just makes too much sense, with the weak being killed off-”

“The WEAK? Jungkook, these are PEOPLE-” you start, incredulous at what he’s insinuating.

“I’m not saying it’s right! But like, with the population issue that’s been going on for decades now, global warming, and the end of the world looming over us, maybe the people in power are taking drastic measures to improve our odds as a whole. Including making a nearly indestructible virus.” he says, his voice so stable and nonchalant that you are taken aback. How could he not be terrified of the story he is spinning into existence?

Your pulse quickens as your vision blurs in front of you, the low light of your lamp spilling into the blues of the wall. Your knees start to shake, as Jungkook’s voice grows further and further away, before snapping back into the forefront of your mind.

“I’m just saying, if the government decides to zombify me, you better pull the trigger.” he says, a sharp laugh punctuating the thought.

This snaps you out of it, horror flooding your features.

“WHAT?”

“I said-”

“DONT fucking joke about that!” you bark, limbs trembling beneath you.

“I-”

“People aren’t being “zombified,” you aren’t catching the virus and you aren’t dying.” You sit on the bed now, rubbing your hand against the raised skin on your thighs.

“Okay! I’m sorry, I just... I’m sorry.” he says, voice laced with concern.

“Okay.” you breathe out.

“Are you okay?” his quiet voice calls over the phone.

“I don’t know.”

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.

“Are you counting?”

“Nine.”

“Nine what?”

“Pens. And two birds outside my window.”

“What kind of birds?”

“Crows.”

“Are they pretty?”

You manage to smile.

“Of course, they’re pretty. They’re crows.”

You hear his soft laugh on the receiver.

“You’re right, stupid question.”

-

You find yourself tossing and turning, thinking of the implications of Jungkook’s theory. How many shells of people are walking among everyone else right now? How far has this virus spread? How many will be taken? Were they really sacrificed like that, without thought or care of the stories and memories attached? Would that even be moral? Killing millions, but potentially saving billions? Would it even be worth it? Would it even work, or be possible? You stare out at the moon, bright and waning amidst the sky. The stars are too faint to see, the city lights and smog drowning them out.

You really hope, with all of your might, that he is wrong, that this is just his overactive brain theorizing after playing too many video games in quarantine. 

Yeah, maybe the quarantine is getting to you both.

Your phone vibrates.

Jungkook: Just checking in. I’m still really sorry about earlier. Maybe I was just trying to make it easier by making shit up, idk. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I wasn’t thinking and there’s no excuse to not be taking this thing seriously. I know what COVID did to you, to your family. Hell, what it did to mine. . . I shouldn’t have been saying what I was saying. I’m sorry.

You frown.

You: It’s okay. It’s just hard, right now. Being alone again is just hard, and thinking about stuff like that makes it so much harder. 

Jungkook: yeah. 

Jungkook: If I could I’d be holed up in there with you, but I don’t feel like going to jail right now. 

Jungkook: tbh I’d sneak over anyway, if I knew you’d be safe.

Jungkook: Anyway, meet at town square tomorrow?

You: Yours or mine?

Jungkook: Mine, obviously. It’s fucking steller.

You snort.

You: give me one of your trees and we got a deal.

You put your phone down, smiling at the ceiling, before your phone buzzes once more.

Jungkook: I wasn’t kidding, though.

Jungkook: I don’t want to die like that.

You close your eyes, dismissing the thought of it before it plants roots in your mind.

You: Of course not. No one does. But you won’t die like that, I promise.

18 March 2030, 09:54 PM

Your vision tunnels as you stare at the screen, unmoving.

“-The bodies now dropping dead, again. That’s right; reports are now stating that the virus loses control and dies off around a week after ‘the twitch’ begins.” the news reporter states, no life in their eyes.

Thousands. Thousands of bodies are dropping by the second, the virus now spreading worldwide. This is so much worse than you could have imagined. 

A third of the population, gone. 2.8 billion lives lost. Just like that.

You call Jungkook.

“Hello?” he says, voice hoarse, as if he just woke up.

“Jungkook, are you watching the news?”

“Yeah,” he croaks. “I am.”

“I can’t believe this.” you whisper, curling yourself into a ball on your mattress.

You both watch as a montage of bodies drop on the screen; parking lots, grocery stores, pharmacies, nursing homes, all filled with dropping corpses. It’s so much messier than you thought it’d be. Why are they showing such close up images? Why is there so much coverage? Why do they almost look alive, right until the very-

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks over the receiver.

You pause for a moment.

“I don’t think so.”

It’s silent over the line.

“Jungkook, what if it gets worse? Spreads more than we project? What if we can’t control it anymore?” 

The static from the other end begins to feel unnerving.

“It won’t, dove. I can promise you that.” 

“But how can you say that- how are you so sure?”

The air hangs heavy before you hear his heavy sigh.

“Y/N, I did something stupid.”

Your heart drops.

“What do you mean?”

“I- The more I thought about it, the more that our conversation the other day made sense. I started to get public records sorted, god, you should see my room- it’s plastered everywhere- but I started gathering more information and… Y/N, it was lining up so perfectly, too perfectly-”

“What did you do, Jungkook.” 

“I needed to know more, I knew I was right about this, and… No one’s in the judicial offices right now, they’re too scared of catching REVII-29, so it’s not heavily guarded-”

“Oh my god-” you start, voice shaking.

“I went in through the window? You know, the one towards the top? It’s attached to an office, and I found the office of cases against hospitals and shit, and all of the REVII-29 cases are just… in the trash. Same with anything to do with life insurance from loss of family members through the outbreak. They aren’t helping the public with this, and the news-the news isn’t even covering it! I mean, why wouldn’t the news be covering this, and why did police not find the dead bodies before they started to twitch? Well, turns out, they’re being told to leave these claims.”

His voice is shaking now as you hear his footsteps against the carpeted floors of his room.

“I was right, don’t you get it? The virus- it really is population control. They really are killing all these people on purpose. Anyway, I grabbed all the files I could fit in my backpack and I left, but-” he falters, breath heavy against the receiver.

“But what?”

“I guess I was followed?” he says, his voice small. “I was grabbed from behind, in the alley by my apartment. Damn it, I was so close…” he trails off, voice trembling to a halt.

His footsteps stop, carpet shifting, and you hear a sharp inhale.

“I felt this pain, in my neck, and… I tried to fight against it, but there was something-I was being injected, so, the needle bent,”

“Oh my god,” you gasp, tears forming in your eyes.

“Y/N, I can’t feel my fingertips.”

Your phone shatters against the floor.

-

He looks terrible; knees shaking, shirt torn, neck bruised and bleeding.  But he’s alive, in front of you, and for that, you feel relieved.

“What are you doing here?” his voice trembles, eyes brimming with tears and knuckles curling into the doorframe. 

He has never looked so small.

“You can’t do this alone,” you smile, desperation clinging to your features. “I’m here to help-”

“Go home,” he starts to shut the door, but your foot catches it. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“It’s too late, I’m already exposed,” you insist.

“If they catch you out here-” he says, glancing behind you, genuine fear behind his eyes.

“The ones that pumped you with this virus? Yeah, they can suck my ass, frankly.” 

He looks back to you, wide-eyed.

“I’m not leaving you to die, Jungkook. I’m not fucking doing it.”

“No one has survived this, dove-”

“Yeah, well, no one has caught it this young, either.” 

Jungkook backs away a little, lip trembling. You step forward.

“Please. Please, let me be here with you.” you say, forcing his gaze to lock with yours.

He drops his arms in defeat, a shaky breath leaving his lungs. Then, he steps forward, wrapping you in his arms. You can feel his body tremor, quiet sobs shaking his frame. You relax against him, pulling him tighter.

“I couldn’t leave you like that. I can’t- I can’t give up on you like that.” you say, tears staining your cheeks. 

You hold each other for a moment, trembling limbs finding comfort in the tenderness of the other. 

“I’m sorry.” he cries, and you don’t know what he’s apologizing for. “I’m so, so sorry.”

22 March 2030, 02:29 AM

You wake up to Jungkook screaming.

“Jungkook! Jungkook, what’s wrong?” you call, checking for any injury or progression of sickness.

“I can’t- fuck!” he screams, pounding on his thighs, whole body shaking. You grab his fists and hold them down, fear shooting through your body.

“Jungkook, breathe-” you start. He locks eyes with you, panting and dampened with sweat.

“I can’t feel my legs.” he whimpers, a strangled cry that sends another wave of anger through his body as he weakly pounds at his thighs. “They won’t move.”

 You pull him to your lap, holding his fists until they slow to a dull thud against his flesh, then push his hair away from his sticky forehead.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, running your fingers through his hair, “I’m here.”

His fists eventually fall to either side, breaths heavy. Tears stain his face.

“I don’t wanna die, Y/N.”

You smile weakly, wiping the tears from his face and pulling him closer to you.

“Don’t think like that,” you whisper, barely audible. 

He twists his torso to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging your waist tight. You smile and rub small circles on his back, watching the fabric fold and crease underneath your fingertips and his muscles relax beneath them.

You wait until he’s fast asleep against your chest to let the tears fall. 

1 April 2030, 02:29 PM

This is a sick joke. 

You can’t stop your mind from pounding the thought into your skull as you attempt to heat a kettle of water, shaking too hard to keep it from spilling over the edges and sizzling on the hot stove. A weak breath comes from your throat, strangled into a soft flutter of air against your lips as you allow your head to hang from your shoulders. 

“Y/N?” Jungkook calls, his voice sounding broken, wilted. 

“I’m coming, I just have to start the water for your tea,” You call, hating the way your voice trembles as you speak. 

Today marks two weeks of paralysis. He’s regaining feeling in his limbs and spine. You know what’s happening, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it aloud. Besides, you can’t do that to him. You don’t want him to feel any worse, he’s already got a lot on his mind. 

You grab the plate of sliced oranges you prepared for him and walk to his side.

“I know you’ve been having a hard time eating, but these are your favorite and I-”

“Y/N,” he calls, looking into your eyes. He looks tired, more beaten down than you’ve ever seen. 

“Yes?” you breathe, counting the moles on his face to slow your breathing. Five. No, six, one was so small you hadn’t noticed it before.

“I already know.”

Your breath slows, like cement pouring into your lungs.

“Know what?” you smile, weakly.

“I’m dying.” he says, gaze searing into yours. “I’ve been counting.” 

It’s silent for a moment. Your vision blurs and your stomach drops. 

“Counting’s my thing.” you muster, voice quivering around the joke. No one laughs. You suck a breath in. “No one’s dying.”

“Everyone’s dying-”

“YOU’RE not dying! Okay? You’re not.” you say, setting the oranges down to hide the way your hands shake. “You’re not going to die. You’re regaining feeling in your arms and you’re breathing better-”

“You KNOW what that means-”

“-and if you just hold on and just keep fighting, then maybe-”

“Y/N!”

“WHAT?” you scream, eyes wide and panicked, tears trickling down your face, a small false smile on your lips. You look to him, laying on the floor, half his body limp and the other half propped on worn pillows. He looks so small, so frail. You wonder how much weight he’s lost.

“Stop.” he breathes, tears welling in his eyes. “Just stop.” he props himself on a trembling elbow, turning his body to reach for an orange slice, averting his gaze. You feel something in you break in that moment. Almost on autopilot, you find your body moving forward to help him peel the orange slice. 

“I’m sorry.” you whisper, not trusting your voice of much more as you crouch down to the plate. 

“It’s okay. I’m just.. Tired, you know?” he says, his soft laugh choked with a cough.

Fatigue is a late stage symptom. 

You shake your head, trying desperately not to spiral. 

“I know. You’ve been fighting for a long time.” you say, a smile on your face and an orange in your outstretched hand. He takes it in his fingertips, bringing the fruit to his mouth. It’s almost relieving to see the orange juice spill from the sides of his mouth as he bites down; some organic color amidst his paling skin. You look down to your hands, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Do you remember a few months ago, what you said to me?” he asks, wiping the juice from his face absentmindedly with a shaky hand. 

“You won’t die like that, I promise.”

“We talk nearly every day, I’ve said a lot to you-” you start, a light laugh lifting your words.

“You promised I wouldn’t die like this.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think-”

“Did you mean it?” he questions, searching your gaze for an answer. Your eyes well up with tears.

“Can we talk about something else?” you whisper, breath quickening. 

“Y/N, I’m asking you to-”

“No-”

“Please, I NEED you to-”

“No, no-”

“Y/N, get the gun from my drawers and-”

“NO-”

“Shoot me! Please-” he chokes, tears streaming down his face as he grabs your hands in desperation. “I don’t wanna die like this. I don’t wanna die and forget who I am. I don’t want my body to be-”

“Jungkook, please-”

“Walking around without me being there, I don’t want to-” his voice breaks and he sobs, elbow giving out and his head landing in your lap, grasping your fists tightly. He sobs for a while, the sound piercing through you and sending shivers down your spine. You cry with him, petting his head and wiping the sweat from the back of his neck. 

“I can’t taste anything.” he cries, voice cracking. “And my vision is getting blurry. Please, Y/N.” 

It's silent between the two of you for some time, long enough that your knees grow numb, long enough for the sun to start setting and bathe the barren city in a golden glow, long enough for your tears to dry against your cheeks.

You’re really losing your best friend. 

“Where is it.” you manage.

“In the top drawer of my dresser.”

You walk over, floorboards creaking under your weight, until you reach the door and pull it open. There sits a pistol, polished and loaded. The sight of it sends ice through your veins. 

“Did you find it?” he says, looking in your direction. You manage a small nod and walk back to your place beside him, cold steel pressed against your hand. You can’t look anywhere but where the metal hits your skin, body going rigid beneath you. It isn’t until Jungkook’s hands wrap around yours that you look up.

One, two, three, four, five, six. Seven, if you count the one on his neck. 

“We’re running out of time.” he says quietly, pleading and apologizing in the same breath. Your vision starts to blur again.

“I don’t know if I can do this, I-I know I promised but fuck, Jungkook, I didn’t think-”

“I’m asking you for a lot,” he starts, tears dripping from his chin to the fabric of your jeans, “but I only have you. That’s all I got left.” 

You suck a breath in, an impossible smile forming on your face, despite it all. “How are you feeling?”

He laughs, a bitter one that barks its way from his lungs. “I’m scared.”

You feel the tears spill from your eyes as you laugh too. “Yeah.”

It’s silent for a moment, choked breaths and quiet sobs filling the air. 

“Count with me, love.” he whispers, pushing the gun under his chin. Your hands start to shake again as he moves your finger to the trigger. 

“Don’t…” you plead.

“One,” he starts, his faltering voice giving him away. “Two-”

“Jungkook I can’t, I can’t do this-”

“I love you.” he says, a small smile on his features, a goodbye in his eyes.

You stop, mind momentarily stunned. “W-what?”

You jump when his thumb runs across your hand, unintentionally pulling the trigger. 

Your ears ring as the gunshot echoes off of the walls of the apartment, Jungkook’s body collapsing to the floor. 

You barely start to register what’s happened when his body twitches and reanimates, lifting his torso from the ground, eyes vacant and half open. Terror fills your limbs as you fumble for the gun, shock still controlling your body. You lift the pistol to his chest, faltering before you can shoot, staring into the blank eyes of your best friend’s corpse and wondering how the world went this wrong.

You squeeze your eyes shut and pull the trigger, Jungkook’s body falling limp with the second gunshot as the bullet rips through the spinal cord. Shakily, you take your hand and wipe the blood from your eyes, lungs unable to catch a full breath. 

The scream that comes from your body isn’t something you can control, but rather it’s primal, guttural, as it rips you wide open and tears spill from your eyes, pink staining your cheeks as the blood runs down your face. Sobs wreck your body as you double over onto his chest, pressing the remaining heat of his existence into your skin. The pistol clangs against the floor as it slips from your grasp, fingers curling into the blood-soaked cotton clinging to Jungkook’s back.

Hours later, you smell the stove, and realize you left the kettle on.

You wonder, for a fleeting moment, if water can burn.

[callabang]

Fic Rec: Recovery

assorted definitions of healing

All my ribbons and my medals and my trophies | Anonymous

Jeff leans in and rests their foreheads together. “It’s really gonna be fine. You’re a great player.”

Mike wants to snort, wants to yell at him because for the past fifteen days, that’s all Jeff’s been saying. Mike wants to ask him if he needs glasses. “Yeah,” He just says, around the lump in his throat.

notes: this one is tough & painful but the climax is one hundred percent worth it! mike and jeff’s relationship is beautifully written and the rock-solidness of it in the end of so powerful

Faster (series) | lightgetsin

"Okay," he says, "You know how when you're on a breakaway, and you've got a couple D-men on you? Like, right behind you. You can't see them, but you can feel them right there coming for you?" Jamie nods. "The only thing to do is to be faster than them." Tyler says. "You can't turn and look, you can't slow down. You've just . . . you've just got to skate harder. It's like that."

notes: a somewhat unorthodox but very poignant and real depiction of coping with past trauma, in a way that feels like an pitch-perfect characterization choice.

dig a hole, fill it up | inlovewithnight

Going up to the NHL was supposed to be a new start. Everything would be different there.

It wasn't quite that simple, but Aaron had help to figure it out. 

notes: really lovely and moving look at aftermath and healing. i love the dynamics between aaron and willie and megan, especially in relation to the age difference and the guidance and support they provide

I Will Weather the Storm | escherzo

“Stress fracture.” Boone sighs, scrubbing a hand through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Could be three months. Five, at worst.”

“Shit,” Ryan says. “No surgery though?”

“Nope. They don’t think so anyway. Got lucky there, eh?” Boone’s smile turns rueful. “As long as we don’t go stir-crazy being stuck here together all winter, I might be alright yet.”

notes: i read this fic for the first time on a friend’s recommendation and didn’t know who the characters were, but i will still blown away by the atmosphere and palpable feelings of care that suffuse this story

You're Still Picking Me Up | loochskywalker

Mitch is 26 when he retires from the NHL. His brain a jumbled mess of pieces that won't fit together no matter how many doctors try to make them. He was supposed to be great. He was supposed to be a legend.

Instead he goes to Vermont. Instead, he goes to see Matt Martin.

notes: a story of healing and acceptance all-around. i love the setting in this fic and the fact that both mitch and matt are healing in their own ways 

came around for a one night thing (and i never left) | whitchbhitch

Carter's thumb pauses on what should be just a fairly standard picture of some abs and a chest, a neck and head turned to the side, the picture cut out to just show his jawline. The guy looks good, built, like his muscle isn't just for show, thick in the waist and no defined abs, even though it's obvious he's very strong. That's all fine, but it doesn't explain what caught Carter's eye. The profile name is just one letter, J, and all the bio says is "here come dat boi !" It's the meme that does it.

(Or, Carter grows, heals, and gets his man.)

notes: this is part of a larger series but i think you can read this on its own! the depth of emotion in this one is especially good juxtaposed with the very hot sex scenes, and it deals with grief in a very real and active way

They Say Love Heals All Wounds | Deastar

“Geno? Are you okay? Physically,” Sid asks, which is good, because Zhenya doesn’t think he can put into words how he’s feeling emotionally. He imagines saying, The person I’ve loved for ten years finally took me to bed last night, but it turns out he didn’t want to, and now I can read his mind. No, thank you. “Feel fine,” Zhenya answers. “Even head feel fine.” And suddenly he realizes how fucking odd that is: he was concussed, and the room is brightly lit – he should be hiding under a blanket right now. He narrows his eyes and asks, “Sid, why head feel fine? What happen to concussion?” Sid takes a halting step closer to the bed and says, “Our bond, it’s—it’s a healing bond.” “Holy mother of God,” Zhenya breathes. So. They’re definitely not breaking the bond, then.

notes: i haven’t read this one in some time but it’s such a classic, both in terms of sid/geno and in terms of hrpf in general. a really unique premise feat. sid and geno actively working and healing together

so collect your scars and wear them well | addandsubtract

It’s been two months when Connor gets on a plane and flies to Arizona. He tells his parents, and they don’t like it at all, but he goes anyway. He has a cane, a strict PT schedule, and an ounce of pot cleverly hidden in his luggage. It’ll be warmer there. It’s January in Toronto, and he aches all the time.

notes: an incredible fic about relying on others and being kind to yourself

This Time Next Year | Oplopanax

Tyson Barrie, one of the very rare Omegas born only into ultra observant religious communities, finds himself pregnant after the death of his husband Gabriel Landeskog and to survive in 1870s Denver, must marry Nathan MacKinnon.

notes: i’ve rec’d this before, which makes sense because it’s so so good. an incredibly expansive fic about how people work through and make the best of some really tough situations 

puttin' on my shades (to cover up my eyes) | electrumqueen

The kid - McLeod - sways against Taylor's shoulder. “I want to go home,” he says.

“What you want is a glass of water and two Advil,” Taylor says. “Trust me on this, kid.”

“Okay,” the kid says. He hiccups.

notes: this fic was my inspiration for a recovery rec list! really painful and poignant, deals with a whole mess of complicated emotions amongst a whole mess of people. the relationships (romantic and platonic, past and present) in this are incredible 

[prof-peach]

Hello professor, I have a pretty heavy question I’m afraid, but I’m running out of people to ask, so I’ll try my best to keep it PG13.

It’s my Mienshao, Daisy. Up until recently, she and I were members of a police task force tasked with rooting out illegal Pokemon smuggling rings and underground high stakes tournaments. We’ve been partners for a long time, me and Daisy, we grew up together, and I dare say we made a great team. But then things went wrong.

For the sake of security I can’t go into too much detail, but we were participating in a raid when we got ambushed. Someone must have tipped the smugglers off, because they were waiting for us when we got there. During the firefight, there was an explosion, a gas tank got set on fire by a charizard, I believe, and Daisy and I happened to be close. She got out with a few minor burns and scrapes, I... Did not.

I’ll spare you the gory details, but I have been confined to a wheel chair ever since, and I am due to be fitted for a prosthetic leg next week.

I won’t lie, the transition has been hard for everybody, me, my friends, my family. My other Pokémon have been hovering around me like over protective nannies for weeks. But I think out of all of us, Daisy has been taking it the hardest. Half of the day she spends locked to my side like a bodyguard, threatening to punch anyone that gets too close into oblivion. And the other half, well...

She’s started putting herself through some kind of hellish self training routine. Doing katas until she all but collapses from exhaustion, running laps for hours, fighting every Pokemon she can convince to fight, wild or trained. Daisy’s always been tough, and she’s always loved training, but this... This isn’t training, it’s a death march. I’m getting extremely worried, and that’s not even everything!

She’s stopped eating her favorite foods, deliberately choosing ones I know she hates, she won’t let me pet her anymore, she just steps out of reach, trying not to look at me. But most worryingly, she’s started cutting off her whiskers. She’s always been so proud of her whiskers, she groomed them every day, always got grumpy when I teased her for having a big ol’ mustache. Now anytime they get longer than an inch, she slices them off with her claws and throws them in fireplace, like some kind ceromony.

I’m almost certain Daisy feels guilty for coming out mostly unscathed, when I didn’t. She’s always been a bit protective, even before we joined the police, and she’s saved my life multiple times out in the field, but now she feels like she’s failed me, I think. I’ve tried to convince her that it wasn’t her fault, but that only seems to redouble her efforts. I’m terrified she’s going to burn herself out if she keeps going like this, and I don’t know what to do.

I know this is a pretty heavy question, but I I’m not sure who else to ask. Is there anything I can do to convince her that she doesn’t need to hurt herself like this? Or, something? Just anything to help! Losing my leg was jarring, but losing Daisy would be unbearable!... I just... I just want my best friend to be okay.

I am sorry for what you’ve been through, I cannot begin to understand what it’s like to be in your shoes, but like all recovery, physical or mental, this will take a fair bit of time to get past, you both may never fully return to how things were, but it can get better and you can both return to a full life together with work and dedication.

I’ve certainly seen Pokemon go to extreme lengths after dangerous incidents to protect their loved ones or themselves, in this case it would be wise to assume your pokemons suffering with a hefty bill of PTSD, and needs some actual therapy to handle the feelings and thoughts they’re having. We have facilities to accommodate that if you’re local to Johto, but most Pokemon centres will be able to put you in contact with reliable and certified practices to begin unravelling the issues that now plague Daisy.

That she considers herself to have come away reasonably unscathed is not true, yes your life has physically changed, but she needs to step back and take a look at her life too. Everything’s different now, and more specifically how she’s treating herself and handling her feelings. If that’s not trauma and injury, I don’t know what else it could be. You both came away with damage that day, physical or not. The first step is to help her see that, and to begin to understand that despite this all, you can both continue to move forward together if you can overcome the injury together, it is an event you shared, and you two can aid each others recovery with time and care.

There’s some seriously gifted therapists out there, those who study for years and can help far more than me, they’ll take time to break down the events, and start to really get into the feelings that your partner is going through. The cycle for Daisy right now comes around to self-punishment, and seems to be stuck on a loop. She needs time and space to process her feelings of guilt, grief, fear and loss, facing them instead of burying herself in her rigorous training. While it is difficult to discuss, you two have a strong bond that means you could talk with her. Try to remind her who’s truly responsible, she may be blaming herself, which is pretty common in these situations, but at the root of it, you were doing your routine job, and the bad guys, the Pokemon smugglers and goons are to blame. THEY caused the issue, not her, and while it may not sink in right away it’s worth saying, and sticking to. You said you told her that it wasn’t her fault, which is the gut reaction, perhaps giving her a logical target instead of herself will work better for now. Reiterating the true issue, and taking the heat off of her may help with other tasks such as self care, later down the recovery road.

Her guilt will feel terrible, but it kind of works as a protector, keeping her distanced from the worse, more overwhelming feelings of helplessness and powerlessness. In fact the guilt that masks this all will slowly make things worse over time. That underlying intense emotion below the guilt is what you both need to work through, but more than anything, she needs to face it, in her own time, come to terms with it, and eventually (hopefully) come to an understanding that life is an endless cycle of events, things will happen, but you have to pick yourself up and turn the lemons into lemonade. She could have lost you that day, that you came away with your life is a miracle, and now you two get more time together because of that. Luck isn’t something that runs out, it’s not like there’s only so much of it to go around, it is like wining the lottery. Sometimes 20 people win, other times no one does. It’s hard to accept, but there’s no greater order to stuff that happens, but when we can come to this conclusion, it’s oddly freeing. I’ve seen a fair few Pokemon in a symilar state who can move on when they realise there’s an odd randomness to the world and everything that goes on.

This is a job for someone with far greater skills than I, but you must help her by also looking after yourself, laugh when you can, show her that your life is still very full, and that you have loved ones, and joy to share with others. You mentioned that you’re due a prosthetic, and though the transition will be long and no doubt a little difficult at first, getting yourself back on two feet (kind of) will show her, and your other Pokemon that you’re willing to move forward. I think there’s a lot to be said about talking during this all. She wants to fight, to be strong, if this is how she’s going to cope, fine. If she’s out training, sit with her, spend whatever time you can by her side, as she’s taking this the hardest. You don’t have to say a thing, just try to do your best, without putting yourself in too much discomfort or pain. Reminding her who would be devastated if it had been her who got hurt, if she was not around, may help ground her back in reality a bit. You both got granted a gift that day, you came away alive, if she works so hard she burns out, that gift was wasted. She can use her kindness, and strength to help you, she can pass her knowledge and skill forward, but it’s hard to help others, and do your best if you’re exhausted beyond reason. Kind of like trying to give people bread from a basket but the damn basket is empty yknow? You got to take time to refill so you can help those around you again, so you have some bread to give. I know, probably sounds a little dumb but it’s always been the way I remember it.

Another very useful thing I’ve found with trauma survivors would be meeting others who have been in the same position. There’s plenty of support groups for both people and Pokemon who have been through events that left them in a difficult situation, emotionally and physically. Even here at the lab we have many species who have been left without limbs, with life changing damage, and a lot of them also have the emotional trauma too. She would probably do well to spend time with them, you can send her to a resort to retreat and recoup erase, mix with others who were just as angry as she is now, or you can take time to go with her to groups to interact with others. It’s one thing to have humans help, but it’s a whole other level of connection when Pokemon can help their own. They bond quicker, trust faster, and generally are more open to listening when it’s coming from a place of mutual experience. If she had time to talk to pokemon who actually lost their trainers, or parts of themselves, she may find some peace, even if only temporarily.

Don’t mention the whiskers, and where possible don’t offer her foods she actively likes, but also not ones she actively dislikes. Just for now. Start the ball rolling with just plain simple things that are neither good or bad. Indifferent is better than bad right now, the punishment she’s inflicting on herself will need addressing further, so contact a therapist, they use Rotom or porygon to translate from poke-speech to human language, and the repair can begin with a registered professional. My advice is not sound proof, I certainly feel like I have missed something important, it’s a big response, but it’s a start in the right direction, and should you come up to any further issues, message back and update us with what’s going on. With work you two will be on track to recover. Remember, patience is the biggest thing here, you two have history, and a therapist will no doubt take the sessions as a pair, and work with you to help Daisy feel less guilty over time. I hope you both find peace, and that both of you repair in due time. Good luck with the new leg, a step towards recovery for sure.

[terriblygrimm]

genuinely curious why you think tfatws ruined bucky? he got a recovery arc and a personality and they gave him agency, which i think makes him an even richer, better character.

hey, thanks for the ask and the discussion.

i personally don’t see it that way - bucky was already well established. he already had a personality. we see his range all over the map from tfa to cw. i see tf.atws as taking this 3 dimensional, emotionally varying, experienced, and female-coded character (trope wise), and deciding to fully blame him for something he had no control over. for yrs marvel has been trying SO hard to make bucky a bad guy but audiences were just not having it, because that’s not who the character is, but tf.atws was their opportunity and they took it.

bucky’s sadness, loneliness and grief was literally palpable the entire show until about halfway through when he did a totally unexpected 180. he seemed utterly miserable aside from a few manly and marvel-level humorous quips to sam and awkward hetero-inserted flirting (who has time for that? nobody but bucky apparently! the one character audiences view as gay!). bucky as he stands is not leading-man material, he’s heavy and traumatized, so they reconstructed him and it felt very, very out of place.

granted yes, he DID do those things as the ws and to some degree he DOES need to accept that. but the show goes way beyond that and takes this headfirst approach into turning bucky into a macho, gruff and shady bad guy with a past who needs to atone. but for what? literally being tortured and brainwashed for 70 years? it’s proven in marvel canon that the words trigger the winter soldier, it’s not a choice. we as an audience have witnessed bucky screaming in agony at the torture, as his brain is fried and rewired. it’s also proven in canon that shuri needed to take out the “programming” in his head. none of it was bucky’s choice (obviously) and yet bucky feels this immense guilt over his ws actions. those feelings are a product of being a victim.

but instead of attributing his guilt to his victimization, marvel takes this “ohh the winter soldier is still in there!! will he/wont he snap back into being a bad guy!? the suspense!” facilitated by zemo. that is simply.. not the character? he should feel broken about his loss of agency, his loss of life and loss of choice. hadnt it been like 3 yrs or something since the events of endgame? where was his support group? where are his supportive friends? what does he view as his purpose? there was honestly no character growth or fleshing out done to expand his trauma other than blame him for it.

imo it’s just a tactic marvel used to buff up bucky post-the steve rogers (queer-coded) era. they “main manned” him. they cut his femme-coded hair and gave him a short buzzcut. they inexplicably gave him his dog tags back. they made him the rough-and-ready co-star to sam (who needed to remain the likable, unproblematic, level-headed, and well-meaning lead for marvel’s fear of their life). every character who interacted with bucky was rude to him and inconsiderate of his past. they even made the triumphant “breaking through the words” scene in wakanda cold, unloving and un-congratulatory. this man who’d been a victim for 70 yrs was crying alone at what should’ve been the biggest breakthrough moment in his entire character run.

he and sam also shared that VERY cringy, tone-deaf “man up” scene. man up for what? being brainwashed? to shoulder the responsibility of somebody else’s actions & make it better for others when HE’S the one who needs help?. also bucky’s very masculine list-making (just check it all off one by one and the feelings will be gone!), when in fact we as an audience know bucky- and we know he just needs a friend and a damn good cry. and yet we were supposed to believe this painful convo was an olive branch and some sort of revelatory breakthrough for him.

sam, who literally has nothing in common with bucky (dont even get me started on their ill-fitting pair-up), but who could’ve offered his veteran counseling experience that marvel conveniently forgot about, that could’ve helped add a substantial foundation to their relationship (!!!), told him to MAN UP and make it better for everyone else. even bucky’s actual therapist was very cold towards him. she was dealing with a prisoner of war, somebody who lost all bodily autonomy and marvel played it off like he was an insubordinate thorn in her side.

also the root of bucky’s arc was the fact that he killed that guy’s son, right? (forgive me, i dont remember any of the characters in tf.atws) and yet in the last ep when we COULD have actually seen bucky facing the consequences of his actions, the scene cuts off? that scene felt more like the BEGINNING of bucky’s self-realization arc to me, not the end. he FINALLY expressed that he had no choice in the murder. but then we see no more? and we don’t see the man’s reaction - something that could’ve formulated bucky’s future actions/outlook. he also returned the list to his therapist in the end as if checking off the names somehow healed him. ??

also, lastly, the shield. they made bucky OBSESSED with the shield but they refused to acknowledge that it was actually just steve that he missed. they admitted marvel didnt tell them steve’s whereabouts so they couldnt write anything concrete. sam deserved a shield/cap arc that was crafted MUCH better than bucky’s possessiveness over it. bucky’s emotions are understandable to a degree, but you’re telling me bucky, …who loved skinny steve before anyone, who understood that man’s soul and what he stood for, would attribute his legacy to the shield? a persona steve actually hated? ok marvel.

a couple of manly smiles and an undeserved (as an arc) awkward cook-out scene at the end didn’t tie up any loose ends for me. i thought it was honestly horrible.

[katsidhe]

15.20 Final Thoughts

Supernatural is over, and somehow, despite itself, it did the very best it could to please me. That was always going to be an impossible task. But truly, sincerely, that finale was as close to my desires as the show could ever bring itself to come, and so, so much closer than I ever dreamed it would dare.

I am so, so glad that no other regular characters were involved (Bobby aside, but he was brief). How better to encapsulate their own emptiness? How fundamentally fitting, than in the epilogue to their final battle, wherein the entire world beyond them was erased, the wider universe is merely set dressing for them to move through. And it was so quiet this way. This finale wasn’t overcrowded or rushed. It kept its own peace. And it preserved the tangible claustrophobia that 15.19 invoked: that tangled, lovely, solipsistic, toxic conviction that these are the only two people on earth that matter.

It’s unclear exactly how much time passed between 15.19 and 15.20. I like to think it’s been at least a year, given that they’ve settled into routine and that their grief seems less fresh. (Although yes, the concept of Dean dying on his very first hunt without a resurrection available is hilarious, I must confess.) Their calm domesticity, their peace, was lovely to watch (Sam kicking the laundry machine! Sam with wet hair! Sam running! Sam cooking, Sam looking a little less bulky than usual, and happy!) But man, it really is Dean’s world, isn’t it? Even the DOG, which really, really, really could reasonably have been primarily Sam’s, was Dean’s dog first and foremost. Then on Dean’s say-so, they get in Dean’s car to drive to a pie festival for Dean. Sam is perfectly content to go along with all of it.

As if we hadn’t gotten enough delightful fanservice, we also got one last scene of Sam threatening to torture someone to death. :) what a king.

I love that Dean died to an OSHA violation while fighting a random loose end from season 1 (which, by the way, I CALLED IT, I am so proud of myself). It’s perfectly mundane. I truly and deeply do not understand anyone complaining that Dean should have gone out in a way that’s more epic. He’s been there, done that, guys, and remember how miserable it was? Now there’s no cosmic safety net. Dean died in a broken down old barn, saving some kids. Moments like these are when Dean is at his best, at his most fundamentally sympathetic: when he’s not trying to control the shape of the universe or dictate righteousness or let his anger drive himself down into a destructive spiral. He’s just putting his money where his mouth is. He’s not making a broad moral statement. He’s simply putting his life on the line to defend someone who needs defending. It is not an unworthy end. It’s so much better than going out to, god forbid, God.

Did Dean earn a lifetime of peace? The concept of just desserts is fraught. But I also don’t think it’s something Dean wanted. He wanted to keep killing things in tetanus-infested barns until he died. He got what he wanted. And while the arc of his wants has adapted over the years, MOTW hunting is fulfilling for him.

Dean’s deathbed speech was, oh man. It got me good. Like many of the things I loved in this episode, it was quiet. No desperation, no revising history (or not too much, anyway). Just, “stay with me, please. I love you. Tell me it’s okay.”

The quiet of Sam’s grief, alone in the bunker. How still his face is, until for a little bit it crumples again, and then it comes back and goes still. He’s not trying to control his reactions or press back against his sorrow. There is no work to do, nothing to avenge, no one to find, nothing to defeat. He is alone, and the washes of visible grief simply come and go in waves that he doesn’t try to fight or force.

I need the gif of him flinching at the toaster. His startle reactions are my favorite thing. He’s alone underground, there is not a living soul for miles and miles, he’s just buried his brother, not for the first time, but this time, he knows, for the last. And the goddamn toaster goes off and he cannot control the way his heart leaps up into his throat and the way every one of his muscles tightens.

Sam grows old. Sam. Grows old. Sam grows old! SAM GROWS OLD.

Ohhh my God, Sam grows old. Without Dean! Without hunting! Without Cas! With people outside that claustrophobic world, beyond the four tight walls of SPN, beyond the people approved by Dean and by Fandom, who give him peace and love and fulfillment! SAM GOT OUT. Even with the truly terrible wig the image brings me to actual tears. I cannot believe SPN would allow him to have this. I cannot believe that the show let him be happy without Dean. I want to read the set of novelizations about Sam’s recovery.

Of course this was the only way for Sam to get unwound, and of course it had to happen offscreen in flashes. Thank god for the ambiguity. There’s so much potential there, years and years, we were simply told: and at some point Sam’s life gets better, at some point his mental health improves and he feels safe enough to start a family, with someone, and at some point he has a child, and he dies peacefully, he dies loved and with people who love him, and dammit I’m getting weepy again.

Sam quit hunting. Not in a sudden jolt. We see him leaving the bunker on another job. But when he leaves the bunker, he leaves for good. He has so much knowledge, but he does not preserve the Men of Letters. He does not honor their legacy of extermination and experimentation. Maybe he gives someone else the keys, for the books. Or maybe he’s digitized it all, and maybe it’s done.

Maybe his wife is Eileen, or maybe it’s Amelia, or maybe it’s Piper or Cara or maybe it’s someone new. Maybe it’s not even a woman. And maybe she’s a hunter, but I hope she isn’t, and when Sam tells her, haltingly, in fits and starts, the bare outline of the truth, she looks at him and she believes him. And she understands the shape of the trauma he carries, even if Sam can’t quite speak the details, and maybe Sam goes to therapy. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he wakes in pain and fear for many years, but over time, it dulls.

Sam’s son is still a young man when Sam is on his deathbed, probably in at least his eighties. Think about the mountain Sam had to climb to reach that point. How many years and years of work did it take before Sam felt safe enough to want a child? How long for him to gently conquer his terror at the legacy his blood might carry: Lucifer and Azazel are dead, he knows this, but how long before he lets himself believe it enough to permit the risk? And then he raises his child, not in fear and loneliness, but with love and support and care. And he makes sure his son is protected, that he knows to salt his thresholds and ward against demons, but his son will not suffer the way he suffered.

Maybe he untangles his thoughts about Dean, maybe he learns that to feel angry with his brother is not to betray him or to dishonor his memory, maybe he comes to a more complex understanding of their relationship. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he simply enshrines Dean, and Dean’s memory becomes ever more golden and untarnished, and the Impala becomes truly an altar. The details of how Sam carries Dean with him—the watch, the car, the absurdly large photos, his son’s name—perhaps these are played straight, and perhaps Sam never finds a more nuanced love. In the meta sense I think we are certainly meant to think this. We are meant to see Dean deified here, canonized into a saint. We are meant to view Sam’s fifty more years of life as worship, as a dedication and an offering.

This is the long shadow of the finale. These are the things untouched by necessity and by design: this is Dean’s apology in 15.18, this is Sam not wanting an apology, and not wanting to hear Dean offer one. This difficult work was always and inevitably going to be elided. But there is so much time, decades and decades, offscreen, for Sam to come to a quieter peace.

I think he can do it.

I think Sam can do anything.

I’m crying again.

I really didn’t think I would cry much about the finale. I thought I would cry at the concept of the show ending, but not at what the ending was. I didn’t think any details would actually affect me. But then Sam got old. I am truly and genuinely hung up on the canonical image of Sam finding peace. Good god. He had GLASSES. Help.

My chief complaint (aside from that absolutely awful Carry On cover, why oh why, they should have just played the original again), if I felt at all like complaining at the moment, would be how happy this ending is. But I can’t begrudge Sam that. I can’t even get too mad at the scene that I was SO SURE I would despise: that of Sam and Dean content in a Heaven that is now apparently Great, Actually (even though a prison dimension with an open floor plan is still a prison dimension, but hey, I guess we humans can’t leave earth either). Supernatural clearly wanted Sam and Dean to not be facing down an abyssally bleak afterlife, and I think I’d be complaining about the lack of bleakness a whole lot more if it didn’t have the (perhaps unintended??) side effect of giving Sam even more freedom from Dean than SPN already deigned to give him. Sam isn’t in a shared cell with Dean. He can be with his friends and his wife and his son.

One of the fundamental questions of SPN is, would Dean ever let Sam go? And it’s a question that the bulk of s13-15 has rendered moot with Sam’s growing passivity, and one that 15.20 neatly dodged. And I’m glad it did, because I wouldn’t have liked whatever 15.20 had to say on the matter. This deflection feels true to the spirit of what the show has become.

It was impossible for Sam to find peace while Dean was still alive. And on its own that kind of says everything, doesn’t it? And Sam is still forever denied the peace he truly longed for. Sam didn’t want death to force Dean’s hand. Sam wanted Dean to want to let him go. But the only way Sam and Dean could heal is apart. The potential of their relationship on earth becoming untangled is forever precluded, explictly. And yet Sam’s freedom is validated, Sam is allowed what he sought in season 1 and season 8, Sam is something beyond a hunter and Dean’s brother, and the show let him be, the show let him grow.

Supernatural said Sam Rights, and the world shook.

[shoezuki]

i cannot believe my phone crashed bruhhhh

okay here we go again better fuckin WORK this time

plotlines that would be cool to explore, canon or not. obv the chance of any of these happening is super low and i don't own any of this shit etcetc jus Cool Shit

1. The scene from earlier where Ranboo yells at Sam except he goes feral and takes Sam's first canon life.

2. Eret adopts Ranboo arc. Think about it - double redemption, emotional support and trauma closure, brother figures for both of them. Also voice/crown buddies please I'm on my knees begging

3. Ghostinnit and Tubbo meet up. The concept of Ghostinnit's introduction being giving Tubbo an allium at the bench is... yeah

4. Techno breaking Dream out of prison. Would be very interesting

5. Dreamon pspsps I'm a sucker for possession and obv I'm not a dream apologist an all but it's such a cool concept? Dream being forced to hurt the server he cares about because he's trapped in his own mind, watching as his body and his mouth hurts his friends and allies... hm :)

6. A couple different takes on Sam's current angst that would be cool to see:

a) Sam kills Dream. Moral prisons be damned, I'm not here for morals I'm here for block men drama. I wanna see Sam fucking lose it and take Dream's final life.

b) Sam tearing the prison apart to find the cause of the explosions and eventually breaking down because of guilt

c) Sam tearing the prison apart to find the cause of the explosions and accidentally letting Dream out

7. Eret getting involved in the Egg was hinted at in their stream earlier and that would be so cool to see - they tried taxing it as a gag and they mentioned that they "definitely would not break it" and pspsps your majesty you wanna break it so bad

8. Ranboo redemption arc but it's borealis content

9. Revival of everyone who is dead, at the same time. Wilbur, Tommy, Mexican Dream, and Schlatt, all in the same room as Dream (who would have to revive him) and probably everyone else. Everyone on the server in the same room. Wooh.

10. Jack Manifold and Niki talking about Tommy and realizing he wasn't really the villain

11. Eret killing Dream. I don't think I need to elaborate onto why this would be good.

Again, not saying I want these to be canon, I respect the dsmp writers and their decisions and they're doin amazing, these are just concepts I wanna explore as possibilities.

Ok Egg scorching opinions go - andy

YOOOO YESYESYESYESYESY holyfuck yo o ok okokok

1. YO. HOLYFUCK. thatd be like. holyfuck>? thatd be SO harrowing and thinkin a how fandom would respond Fucks Me Up a Little. like the idea of ranboo being So upset to react without thinking maybe into his enderwalk state and like. potential of just Showing that neither a them r particularly wrong or right and that Ranboo isnt incapable of hurting others and making fucked up choices like everyone on this server. god. id imagine sam would take it hard n terms of ‘i deserve this’ 

2. any instance a eret gettin to get In on things got me Screamin but in like. one thing i Always wanted to see is them getting involved w the anarchists/borealis boys. but eret and ranboo in particular??/ fuck yes. two kings dealing with their feelings of having wronged their allies n recovery as ‘traitors’

3. god the concept of ghostinnit is So good like. we seen w wilbur mans lost pieces of himself/wasnt quite ‘him’. i would love seein like What he’s like n how tubbo would see him and react to him. ghostinnit would be such a shock n like snap tubbo into realizing the severity of death

4. TECHNO PSPSPS TECHNO i cant help imagining like. a shit buddy criminal type comedy ajkghsklghshlglghs....

5. imma admit i have NO clue a any a the dreamon stuff but bringing it back n up front??? could be p fuckin cool. 

6. sam breaking Down like. very bluntly would be Really good i feel. mans needs to let that shit OUT. he’s a very firm/strong character n no doubt pent up like. i can imagine Many ways a it going w him and his self-blame. if he ended up bumpin dream out???? oooooo boy.

7. I WANT ERET INVOLVED!!!! if she got into some role a bein like. a strong force Against the egg. thatd be REALLY good. they need a sort of ‘main’ hero type role.

8. BOREALIS CONTENT. aAA

9. an absolute fucking moshpit. the dead role up n brawl. oh my god itd be hell

10. jack and niki talking it through n like. rationalizing tommy’s death and therefore what him as their antagonist Meant to them. like i know jack has been realizing his grief and anger as something deeper n that he didnt Want tommy dead like... them being lost without a means to an end or a ‘goal’ of killing tommy.

11. ERET KILLS DREAM YES. GOOD. BEAUTIFUL. A WIN FOR THE GAYS

[the-family-we-choose-118]

Why I Think Albert Doesn't Die in 4B: A Meta Post

Maybe this is me reaching or some really wishful thinking, but i don't think albert is the one who dies, though i think he does get seriously injured (explanation below the cut so hear me out lol)

Based on scenes from 3b, 4a, the 4b promos, and some interviews done after 4x08 about 4x09.

In multiple interviews (one example below ⬇), Tim has stressed that there is going to be a divide between Bobby and Athena because he feels that she's too independent and won't let him in when she has issues. 4b is being set up to build off of last season's attack at the storage unit. Athena has made peace with the attack, so it will take something (encountering the attacker, being trapped while looking for a suspect, a storage unit, or experiencing other trauma) to act as the catalyst to trigger her into needing Bobby's help but refusing to ask. Albert dying will in no way drive or affect this plot line and will only really heavily affect Chimney, Maddie, and Buck and maybe Chris and Eddie.

Tim did a different interview where he said that multiple characters will be in life or death situations ⬇

As far as we know from the promo Hen, Buck, Bobby, Athena, May, Eddie, and Chimney are working the crash and Maddie is shown at work going into labor or having false contractions. None are likely contenders for a life or death situation, which leaves the side characters. Since this involves a massive pile-up, and we already know that Albert is in one car, that leaves three others.

The scenario I see best playing out in term of writing and setting up 4b and going into season 5 is this:

Albert gets horribly injured in the crash and has a long recovery. (This plays into 4a when Taylor said Buck was selfish and has no real friends because he doesn't know how to treat a friend.) If Albert gets injured and has a long recovery, he has 2 options for care. He either moves back in with Madney (but they have their hands full with the baby) or he stays with Buck, who has had to recover from a serious injury before. By staying with Buck, he learns how to really care for a friend unselfishly (tho we're gonna ignore the Buddie friendship for a minute bc the writers did). This also gives them the opportunity to set Albert and Buck up in a friendship so Buck can have friends outside the 118.

OR Albert goes into a coma because the writers are playing with a lot of characters right now and I don't think they know what to do with Albert and how to give him enough screen time for anything meaningful to happen. This way, they can revisit his arc in the future. Also, imagine Chimney and Maddie getting ready to take their daughter home and stopping by Albert's room to introduce their baby to her Uncle Albert 😭 Putting Albert in a coma or giving him a long recovery time is something that could be revisited at the end of the season easily.

I think the 3 others in jeopardy are in one car and I think it is Michael, David, and Harry after going to dinner one night or something and I think they are at the center of the crash.

I think the person who dies is Michael or David, mainly because of this interview ⬇

First, they've brought in David, but like Albert's storyline, they can't fit him in enough for it to really be meaningful. We see them meet towards the end of season 3 and by season 4 they have quarantined together (even though David is on the front lines) and are now living together. Most of their story occurs off screen. The only reason we even saw Michael and David in most of 4a was because it was a storyline attached to Athena and Bobby. Killing off David is less characters to deal with and would affect Bobby and Athena, but not to a degree I would see it driving a wedge in their own relationship. It would affect Michael and encourage him to complete his bucket list he referenced in 4a but it wouldn't have an impact on the whole 118.

Both Bobby and Athena are really close with Michael, though I'm gonna focus on Bobby for a minute. If Michael dies suddenly, that "lighthearted and hilarious" relationship "quickly turns on a dime" and suddenly it "ends up being quite emotional" because Bobby is dealing with losing a friend. This could also dredge up those feelings of having lost his family in a fire and not being able to save them because Michael is now part of Bobby's family. Later in the season, it would be easy to revisit if Harry is mad that his step dad and dad's boyfriend weren't able to save his dad. Bobby would be dealing with his feelings of losing a friend while trying to help Athena (who doesn't want help) deal with the loss of her ex husband.

Shifting the focus to Athena, Michael dying would absolutely devastate Athena. They were married for nearly 2 decades and he is still a close friend and confidante. Losing her ex husband at the site of a crash she responded to would be traumatic. And if you compound that with her unresolved trauma from the attack, now you've got Athena trying to deal with everything on her own and not asking for help. Now Bobby gets mad/sad/distanced because Athena won't ask for help and he needs his own support from her. And maybe she is giving that support but she won't let him reciprocate it and now you have a recipe for anger and unresolved grief that begins to drive them apart.

Focusing on May for a moment, she became an operator because she wanted to make sure Athena was never alone in the field. Though I can't imagine her taking the call for Michael because he is on the line when Albert is injured, her dad dying in a crash she responded to would likely drive her out of the field and into college or another path (1 less character to have around to try to give screen time.)

Michael's death was also foreshadowed in 4a when Athena is concerned he gets the telescope and is spying on neighbors. He talks about having a bucket list that he never got to do because the pandemic forced him into isolation. He also talked about how his only concern during the cancer was preparing his kids for losing him.

Michael's plot is stagnant. He is happy and living with his boyfriend and son. He's cancer free. His whole plot is tied up in a nice bow where they could easily kill him off and the only loose threads to deal with on screen are his family members and friends grieving his loss. This would impact the 118 as a whole.

Honestly, I thought they were going to kill off Michael when he first got cancer and he decided to stop treatments but they bad May talk to him and convince him to go through with the treatments.

Now, by killing off Michael, it is 2 less stories they have to tell, and it is less they'll have to include storylines for Harry as much as they were because he was linked to Michael's storyline. And if they have May decide to leave the field to pursue other dreams or complete her dad's bucket list for him, that is 4 less storylines where they can now focus on the Madney baby, Bathena's relationship, introducing friends for Buck (they mentioned brining back Taylor), focus on ending Eddie/Ana, and establishing Albert as a character (based on a quote from the above article, I think Albert's storyline is going to parallel Buck's 1.0 to 2.0 phase ➡ "If you think about how we ended season 2, Buck being smashed by the firetruck. We knew he was going to survive... I would expect something similar here.")

Referring back to that first article, where it says "Then look for a significant source of agitation for the entire 118."

At this point, Michael would have passed and Bobby and Athena are now having marital problems AKA mom and dad are fighting.

Hen would be stuck in the middle because she is good friends with both Bobby and Athena. She is also facing her own loss of Nia being returned to her birth mom and doesn't have time for their marital problems but still tries to help. She can also pull from her experiences from the season 1 cheating storyline to tell them to communicate or it'll ruin their relationship (yes i too hate that storyline but it would work here)

Buck would likely (nonverbally) side with Bobby, but he sees them both as parental figures, so he gets stuck in the middle like a middle child who is just going with the flow. This would also parallel the Buck Begins storyline where Buck feels caught in the middle after his parents face a loss.

Chimney is raising a baby and (if this theory is right) worrying about Albert in a coma or recovering from a massive injury. He has no time for their marital problems but still lets Bobby confide in him and gives advice (maybe this is just cause i wanna see the bobby/chim friendship we used to get in s1)

Eddie sides with Bobby but he thinks the whole argument is dumb. He can also offer advice to Bobby based on his own experience, but it's going to be something about communication, at which point Bobby will start ripping his hair out because why won't she just tell me her problems and let me help?

Lastly, when have we ever known the show to go ahead and give a major spoiler of the episode 2 weeks in advance? They let us speculate about Daniel for like 8 months and imo it wasn't as big of a deal as they made it out to be. It seems more likely to me that they offered the promo to get the viewers with a twist ending when the show comes back.

Feel free to share your thoughts if you made it this far lol

TL;DR Based on the interviews Tim has done, Albert dying would have little impact on the 118 as a whole, but Michael dying would offer exactly what they need to set up season 5 and finish 4b.

[feysandfeels]

ACOSF: very long, very spoilery review

No one asked me to do this, but I need to talk, discuss and get it all out there.I am still very much feeling the high of this book, but I thought I would share some of my opinions. These of course might change as time passes and I reread the series and the book. But as of now here is where I stand.

If you did not like the book or had many issues with it, maybe this isn’t the post for you.

For reading purposes I will divide this in different sections that I hope can effectively tackle what I want to talk about. 

When I say it’s a long post... I mean it’s long. 

II. Side Characters // III. Future Books.

I. Plot:

From the get go it became obvious that we would face an ACOMAF type of book, in which the development and advancement of the plot would stem largely from the characters. Where MAF created a more equal ratio between action and character, even if it prioritized character, SF really created a 70-30 ration, 70 would be character and 30 action. 

I’ve been seeing a few reviews where people say that there was no plot just sex and Nesta. I disagree. Nesta’s development was the plot. And it makes a lot of sense, to me, why we did not experience a lot of “action plot”: She is not a working member of the Night Court, at least not in the way the IC is in this book, so therefore she will not get full access into the different things that are at play.  Since Nesta is not a working member it makes sense that she is detached from what is happening, apart from the “please help us find these things”. The most action we get comes from Cassian who is more involved in the politic side of things and even then it was explained that he was needed for #InternationalRelationshipsWithEris, because he is a working member of the court. You can tell that they chose him for that because they literally had no one else: Feyre couldn’t risk people finding out she was pregnant, Mor had her own task and is not going to meet regularly with her abuser, Az and Rhys are fucking overworked and Amren is not a people’s person. I would have loved to see more of his work as a general when they are not at war -that we saw more in WAR- we get mentions of what he does but I wished we had gotten more on that front.

 Nesta: I have never hated Nesta, I simply could not see the logic behind her actions and her behavior. I now do. I understand why she came to be and I value her so much more now. Nesta showed another face mental illness can take, how a deep sense of failure can affect you, the darkest thoughts that you are afraid to voice, she voiced. She moved forward and then made mistakes, showing how healing is not linear. Her journey made a lot of sense to me. Her rage made sense to me, her sexuality made a lot of sense to me. I could empathize with her and for that I will be forever grateful, because sometimes rage that comes from a sense of failure is what you will also find in me. 

Her insecurities concerning Cassian, her feelings of unworthiness regarding Feyre, the guilt she felt when she thought of her father, her lack of control regarding the trauma she went. Nesta took all that and made it rage. And I could hardly judge her for that.

Thanks to the way she talked about the mating bond when Cassian was like “we’re mates” I could understand better why Feyre got so upset that Rhys didn’t tell her. The argument of it being tied to their humanity was very interesting.

Also the way that she relates to her power, having lack of control and understanding of what it is (and according to Amren, respect) and having that power being death. You cannot control death, you cannot fully understand it, and yet you have to walk each day with that presence. She has been marked by so much death and grief that I thought it was very appropriate that her journey is marked by her own fear of death and of that which she cannot control: death that now lives in her. There is so much to unpack in that aspect alone.

I loved that final sequence when she gives up her cauldron based powers because those came from rage. She took them when she was raging (and rightfully so) but those nurtured the fury and death she carried with her. So to have her literally give up her death (rage) powers to give live to the sister that literally gave it all for her was a beautiful poignant crystal clear moment –and hella intense too–. There is a sense of gratitud that I feel having read her story. 

Cassian: He was always God Tier for me. His warmth, openness, support and strength spoke to me on a personal level. He is truly the person you want in your life. And I love that we got to see him flawed and make mistakes and be aware of the role he has been playing (regarding Mor and Az, which I think is quite important to the development of that situation). 

As the person closest to Nesta in her recovery, I think it is very important that he knows the deep failure that Nesta is feeling and the sense of not being useful when they should have been. It makes it more clear why he was the one that could actually help her overcome those feelings and the storm they create in her. Now, the way he was supportive of her seems so realistic to me, the frustration, the anger, the wanting to shake the person: all of it happens in real life. You can have a lot of patience and want what’s best for them but some times to yourself and those who are not the person you are trying to help, you can show the frustration of wanting to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, but needs to. 

Finally I LOVED that there was acknowledgement of how observant and intelligent he is. Being a good general is not an easy task and I’m glad they explicitly said it, because Cass being understood as the dumb jock is done at this point. 

The sex: To me sex in SJM’s books are always more than just the wink wink nudge nudge-read it with a glass of wine-moment. They have always been a mechanism for us to get to know more about the characters and where they are in their journey. Even when they were just having sex, the way Nesta describes how open she is with Cassian is a pretty big tell of the groundwork that is being laid for her to start to understand what she feels for him. I think it is interesting to also see it as a reclaiming of her body and an exploration of her body with someone she trusts, as opposed to the way she was using sex to forget and to try to feel. Also, and I’ve said this before the fuck buddies -> lovers is an interesting dynamic, specially specially when every time they are together you know they both want more but they think the other doesn’t! That’s just *chef’s kiss*

The wider conflict: I think this book in the action-political plot was the ACOTAR of the problems we will face in the next ones. In the next one it will be like “shit what did we unleash” and start a political-spying plot. The characters that we all hope we will explore are more connected to the larger schemes that are taking place so we will see an expansion of that. Because this book was very self-contained. Think Guardians in the MCU, but here we have the clues and the basic groundwork for where the “action” part of the story will take is. I do not think it was lacking because from the get go it was shown that the main focus would be Nesta’s personal journey.

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober2020 - Day 10

We’re almost a third of the way through Whumptober! On to part 10 of the oof!au, and over the crest of the wave into trauma mixed with the promise of recovery! I’ll be playing in this au for most of the coming week. They’ve got a long road towards healing.

General Info: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Eventual happy(ish) ending. Past/eventual Codywan. Previous one-sided Vaderwan.

WARNINGS: Relatively minor for this part. Discussion of injuries, fall-out from mind control and torture. References to character death. Considerations of suicide.

No 7. I’VE GOT YOU 

Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

Cody gestured at the troopers around the room to secure their chipped brothers. They had time to get to the hangar bay, he’d made sure of that, but not an indefinite amount. Leave things too long, and the possibility had existed that Skywalker would have beaten them and had time to undo the explosives.

The entire complex was going into the lava below. Even if they’d lost, even if they’d all died, Cody had made sure they were taking Skywalker with them.

The fact that they’d all lived through it still felt hard to process. Cody didn’t try. There were other tasks in front of him, things he needed to do. He focused on them, to the exclusion of all else. He had to get Obi-Wan out - get his men out - get them to the ship and away.

“Get to the hangar,” he snapped, moving across the floor to crouch by Obi-Wan, ignoring the agony in his side, the warm wetness of blood flowing under his armor. Obi-Wan was still sprawled against the far wall, collar a few feet away, where Skywalker had tossed him like a broken doll. He was breathing, shakily, bloody and trembling as Cody hesitated, all hopes that Obi-Wan would be able to walk out on his own dissolving into nothing.

Half the room had fallen on him. He’d pushed most of it aside with the Force, but not all of it. Cody had felt something tearing in his chest as it came down on him, felt himself breathe again only with the smoke cleared and Obi-Wan was revealed, on his knees, determination in every line of his face.

Determination only took you so far. He looked at Obi-Wan, slumped against the wall, panting, and knew it wasn’t taking Obi-Wan to the hangar.

Someone needed to carry him out. Someone--

Cody started to reach out, and froze, remembering the crack of Obi-Wan’s voice, the way he’d flinched and tried to get away, and--

Obi-Wan looked up at him, eyes dazed and unfocused, face streaked with both blood and tears. There was no relief on his features - not like the first time he’d seen Cody, there in Skywalker’s cruel care, their reunion had been a spoiled, awful thing - only exhaustion and pain as he gasped, “Cody. You’re--you again?”

Cody’s gut turned over, agony lancing through him that Obi-Wan’s first question would be concern for him, after what he’d done. He managed to find his voice, through the horror and anger inside his head. He rasped out, “Yes. We’re free. You’re free. He’s dead.”

He watched Obi-Wan freeze, just go still all over, breath catching and holding. Cody  watched relief pass over Obi-Wan’s expression and a deep, terrible grief, at the same time. He was bleeding, hurt. So terribly, because Cody hadn’t moved fast enough, hadn’t-- he swallowed. His guilt needed to wait. “I’m going to get you out of here. Can I--” He stretched out a hand again, fingers curling back before he touched Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

Obi-Wan didn’t flinch back from him. Cody wasn’t sure how he managed that. He only rasped, his voice cracking, “Please do.”

Cody couldn’t manage to speak around the tightness of his throat. He shifted a little closer, cautiously, trying to find a spot of skin that looked undamaged to touch, hesitating to touch at all, remembering, with a sudden lurch of his gut, gripping at Obi-Wan’s skin, holding him down, and--

Obi-Wan made a ragged sound and moved, lifting his right arm and curling his hand around Cody’s shoulder and--and the initiation of the touch unlocked something in Cody’s head. Obi-Wan’s breath was ragged and hitching. He was shuddering all over. And Cody could do nothing else but wrap an arm around him, and then slide the other under his legs, holding him carefully, both wishing he weren’t wearing his armor - the edges had to be cutting against Obi-Wan’s bare skin - and so grateful that Obi-Wan had more layers between them.

“It’s alright,” Cody said, unable to stop the words from bursting out. “You’re safe now.”

Obi-Wan gasped, making an effort to raise his head and then giving it up with a pained sound, cheek still resting on Cody’s shoulder. Cody didn’t know how he could bear it, how Obi-Wan could stand to touch him, but… Cody stood, lifting Obi-Wan easily - he’d wasted away, in Skywalker’s care, or possibly even before - and turned to look at the rest of the troopers, those who had waited to escort them to the hangar.

Cody couldn’t fathom even the idea of handing Obi-Wan over to any of them. As much as it hurt to lift him, as much as it pulled things inside his damaged side, as much as disgust tried to kick up through his chest, he… he didn’t want anyone touching Obi-Wan, ever again.

“I don’t,” Obi-Wan rasped, in his arms, shivering all over, “feel so well.”

Cody swallowed, nodded his brothers forward and fell into step with them. He didn’t feel so well, either. Light-headed. But he could work around that. The droids had said Obi-wan had internal injuries. Who knew how badly he’d aggravated them, in the fight. Who knew if Skywalker had hurt him before Cody showed up. Who--  “We’re going to get you help,” Cody said. “You just - just rest. Pass out, if you need to. I’ve got you.”

He’d carried Obi-Wan unconscious body through these halls before, after all. None of his brothers had ever looked askance about it. They’d just stared forward, for all that Cody knew they must have been screaming inside their heads, the same way he’d been.

“Might, ah, just do that,” Obi-Wan rasped, a thread of sharp humor in his tone that cut down Cody’s spine. He swallowed, heavily, when Obi-Wan stifled a sound, agonized, as the base shook with another explosion and Cody jarred him. Cody fought not to swear.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped out, instead, meaning about so much more than any inadvertent harm he was doing. 

Obi-Wan said nothing, breath uneven as he turned his head back and forth on Cody’s shoulder. And Cody could only swallow, wishing he could wrap Obi-Wan up, wishing he could bandage Obi-Wan’s hurts, heart tripping over when he felt Obi-Wan go limp in his arms, blackness mercifully swallowing him up for a while.

Cody walked through the halls with his back straight, looking directly ahead, bleeding under his armor. He passed the medbay, kept going, straight for the hangar, for the end of all of his plans, for freedom and safety and his men.

“Sir,” Fret said, as Cody climbed the ramp into the ship they had made theirs. He fell into step beside Cody, gaze falling worried to Obi-Wan’s limp form and staying there. “The chipped are safely in their quarters, sir. They didn’t put up a fuss. Bones says he can keep working on them here.”

“Good,” Cody said, ignoring the dizziness moving through his head. He - probably - should have let someone else carry Obi-Wan. But he couldn’t bear the thought. Couldn’t make himself take the sensible path forward. Besides, they were almost to the med bay.

“He’s alright?” Fret asked, his tone clipped and anxious, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

“He will be,” Cody said, words like a promise. He’d make them true, somehow. Obi-Wan deserved to be alright again, after - after all of their failures. And if it meant Cody couldn’t find a useful airlock right away, that was fine.

He’d wait, until he was sure Obi-Wan was recovered.

And then he’d do whatever else needed done.

They reached the medbay as Cody felt the ship lift off the ground. They’d only been waiting for him, apparently.  “Probably going to get bumpy,” he told Obi-Wan, who did not stir, his expression gone lax, his skin too pale, his breathing shallow. He was, Cody had a feeling, hurt badly on the inside, where Cody couldn’t even see, and--

And Bones stepped forward, turning away from a discussion he’d been having with concern written all over his expression. “Commander?” he asked, and Cody jerked a step back when Bones reached out, as though intending to just--touch Obi-Wan. Put hands on him.

Bones’ gaze jerked to meet his, held for a moment, before Cody managed to unclench his jaw, to remind himself that it hadn’t been Bones who nearly beat Obi-Wan to death. It hadn’t been Bones who held Obi-Wan down and--

Cody gritted out, forcing his voice to steadiness, “He’s hurt. Badly.”

“He’s not the only one,” Bones said, tone sharp, and, when Cody only glared at him, he added, “Bring him here.” He gestured to one of the beds, and Cody limped over to it, bending to gently deposit Obi-Wan on the sheets. Obi-Wan made a soft little sound, pained, and Cody wanted to brush back his hair, wanted to hold his hand, but--he jerked back a step, instead, listening to Bones bark orders that seemed to be coming from further and further away.

He took another step back and wavered on his feet, looking down at his body, finally. There was blood, smeared all down his side and right leg. Quite a lot of it, he thought, dizzily, was not Obi-Wan’s.

“--said how are you?” Bones asked, suddenly gripping Cody’s arm, concern in his expression.

Cody shook his head, made to step back again, and his leg went out from under him. He said, sitting on the ground, “Take care of the General.” That was what mattered. They needed to make Obi-Wan well. Everything else, all the rest of his objectives he’d achieved, he realized, as he felt the hyperdrive engines kick on from somewhere far away.

He’d killed Skywalker.

Freed his brothers. 

Returned them to the stars.

Gotten back control of his own body.

It almost felt like a dream come true, but he knew, too well, the grip of the nightmare around his throat. It tightened, his vision darkening, as Bones yelled something urgent from a great distance. 

Cody blinked and realized he was looking up at the ceiling. There were hands pulling at his armor. His brother’s hands, and their voices overhead, tight with concern. “Leave it,” he said, trying to push them away as his world went grey around the edges and then to nothingness.

[gingit-cake]

Therapeutic Gallavich

I’ve been wanting to write a tribute post to the Gallavich universe as a free source of therapy during the pandemic. I’m somewhat tongue in cheek here, but in a country (USA) where we have too little mental health support and too much stigma about mental health, diving into the Gallavich fandom and binging Shameless over the past 6m has been a really comforting coping mechanism for me. There is so much grief and loss in the world, so many ways our government and - for many people - our peers have failed us, that the fictional world of Ian and Mickey has been a wonderful source of comfort, in a lot of ways. It’s a retreat from the IRL shitshow. It’s got endless permutations of happy endings, to give us that serotonin boost and vicarious thrill. And given Mickey and Ian’s respective struggles - homophobic and sexual abuse, mental illness, neglect, parental death, incarceration, etc. - there are also countless fanfics that include therapy, recovery, and informal paths towards healing from past trauma. I’ve never related to a show so personally as I have Shameless, and binging it during the pandemic - when social isolation leaves way too much time for rumination, compounded by being at midlife and the reflection that triggers - it basically ripped open my heart and dredged up long buried stuff I’m finally willing to address. My husband and I watched the S7 finale on New Year’s Day, and let’s just say 2021 has been an emotional retcon of my life since. (I’m learning all the creative, literary terms.)  (And don’t worry, strangers on the internet, I am fortunate to have a therapist and the insurance to pay for it. I wish we all had this.)

There’s been a few fanfics I explicitly want to give a shoutout too as ones featuring therapy or recovery or conversations that have stayed with me in a meaningful way.  Excerpts, tributes, and links below the jump. Possible spoilers for Enemy Lines, Someone to Hold Me Up, Buy and By, and Etherized Against the Sky.

Enemy Lines, by J_Q and stars_fall_on - Ian has a therapist Dr. Lancaster, who introduces him to the concept of rumination:

“He felt a tightening in his chest. Did he even want to let go of Mickey? If not, what the hell was he still holding onto? A memory. A feeling. A belief that he’d made a real connection. But nothing substantial. Nothing real. // 'Ian, is there something hindering you from wanting to move on?" she asked then sat back, looking closely at him. “Are you familiar with the term rumination? // ... // Rumination, as opposed to worry, very often focuses on loss and an overpowering need to understand why something happened.' She continued to watch him closely as she spoke. 'While emotional processing starts out this way, healthy processing leads to acceptance and a release of negative emotions, but rumination keeps you stuck in a pattern.’”

THIS is my brain in a nutshell. As I wrote in a comment on one of the chapters to this amazing slow burn, enemies-to-lovers fic, I’ve got relationships from 20y+ ago that I still brood over. I’m working on letting go and the Gallavich universe has been a creative inspiration for doing some of that work. 

Someone to Hold Me Up, by @westernredcedar - Mickey has a conversation with an OC about forgiveness, after reconnecting with Ian in this hurt/comfort fic:

“'You ever have to forgive your guy for something?' Mickey asks. // Mel laughs. 'Of course. Daily, actually. The man’s a damn slob.' // Mickey snorts, but then he runs his hand over his mouth and tries to actually get to the point. ‘What about something big?' // Mel looks like he’s considering the question thoughtfully, and Mickey realizes that somewhere in the midst of all this madness, he’s really gotten to like this guy. 'I have lots of thoughts about forgiveness, actually,” Mel says with an eyebrow raised. “So you may not want to get me started on that theme. But it’s more about my parents and my sister than about Jeffrey, if that matters. I guess for me it all boils down to this: would it cost me more to forgive or cost me more to stay angry? And my answer to that question is not the same for everyone.’”

This conversation about forgiveness has really stayed with me. One of the reasons I’ve realted so much to the character of Ian Gallagher is I had a hothead brunet of a boyfriend in high school during that same age range (15-17) who is probably the same height as Noel Fisher and caused no shortage of DRAMA in my life, and it didn’t end well. (We were definitely NOT soulmates.) I am serious when I say Shameless and Gallavich specifically helped me let a lot of this 30y old angst go. This exchange b/w Mickey and Mel gets at it - it was costing ME a lot to hang on to this past. 

By and By, by @nowherenj - This one I’m not going to excerpt, because it was the whole story that moved me. Nowherennj draws on their experience in recovery, and this slow burn is both beautifully written and a primer on being in recovery. This was really helpful for me, as I have close friends and family who are in recovery, some with a dual diagnosis (drug use + mental health diagnosis), and this story’s generous attention to detail helped illustrate their experiences for me in a way that we don’t talk about on a regular basis. One of the reasons I identify so strongly with Shameless is because I come from a big sprawling Irish-American family with a lot of addiction and mental illness in it. This fic about Ian and Mickey in recovery makes explicit much of what I think my family hovers around because it can be so hard to talk about openly. I wept reading this one when the author brought in The Avett Brothers’ No Hard Feelings - how I want to live my life.   

Etherized against the Sky, by Snarfle - This one is less about my own therapeutic journey and more about what I hope I can be for young adults that I work with now. It has a character in it named Mr. Strickland, who is a very important father figure for Mickey. I was a professor for a decade, and still mentor young adults in my current job. I think one of the unsung roles that I experienced in academia is too be a mentor for young people. Some instructors are just about curriculum and grading, but when you cross paths with young adults at the beginning of this stage of life, figuring their sh*t out, the ability to be a kind and safe source of input and an active, non-judgemental listener is honestly the most fulfilling aspect of working with students and young professionals, in my view. Maybe it’s because the years 15-25 were such chaos for me, but I love working with people this age (and probably why I hang around on Tumblr despite my near eligibility for AARP lol). You’ve got your whole life in front of you! So many possibilities! Full of hot boyfriends and tomato plants and rescue dogs and heated pools. :) 

There are surely more, I’ve realized that “hurt/comfort” is a great tag for these kinds of stories. But this post is already too long. Thanks to all of you in the fandom who have created art and narrative that have kept me coming back for more, and not feeling so alone in the pandemic. We are a mighty little community!