#every man in my life has deeply fucking traumatized me on his path to self improvement

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

I know I’m not supposed to trust my feelings after 9pm but they’re so big

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Lost Years

Summary - After spending five years in LA, Dean comes back to Lawrence and meets up with his bestfriend or rather his then bestfriend. Y/N isn't exactly happy on seeing Dean either. Will he be able to fix his strained relationship with her?

Pairing - Rockstar!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - Cheesy fluff, angst, mentions of unrequited love, mentions of divorce, parents separation, drinking, bad dates, kissing, unprotected sex 18+ (wrap it before you tap it), p in v smut, oral sex (fem receiving), sex in the Impala.

WC - 5.3k+ (....oops)

Square filled - Angst ( @girl-next-door-writes ) and “Why the fuck would you laugh at that?” ( @anyfandomgoesbingo )

A/N - This is my submission to @downanddirtydean's 500 followers writing challenge (Congratulations again, Lyd). Prompt is in bold.

This is an AU. Flashbacks are in Italics.

Beta'd by @miss-nerd95 (Thank you so much, hon) and thank you to @whatareyousearchingfordean for giving this a read and leaving some valuable comments❤️

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Fuckin’ brilliant!” A weary exclamation left the woman's mouth as she read the text displayed on the device's screen in her hand.

There was a very significant reason why she didn't believe in blind dates, but Jo had been stubborn and insistent. And with Valentine's Day approaching, Y/N didn't want to spend the day in her pjs, crying over The Notebook again. So she had agreed to give a chance to Jo’s friend, or to be more precise, her friend's cousin. His name was Gabriel, and from what she had heard from her mutual friend circle, he seemed to be a decent guy.

But now all she wanted was to go back in time and change her decision to give into Jo’s request, because looking at the empty chair in front of her, she regretted allowing her friend to even try to interfere in her love life.

She signaled the waiter to bring over her check after downing the entire glass of wine. The restaurant was quite busy tonight. It was packed with people on this fine Saturday evening - from lovestruck couples to families with crying kids, Y/N found herself feeling quite lonely as she had stupidly waited on her date to show up for such a long time. Heat crept up her neck in embarrassment when the waiter showed up, the latter’s eyes filled with sympathy as Y/N paid the price of her drink.

Within no time, she was out of the restaurant.

Glancing down at her green dress, she swore under her breath. She tried to book a cab to return to the comfort of her home when her eyes caught the glowing signboard of The Roadhouse right around the corner of the street. The only thing she could think of was to get black-out drunk now. Y/N, still in her high heels, trudged down the path to Ellen’s bar.

Dressed up all for nothing. Rolling her eyes at herself, she went inside the establishment, heading straight towards the counter and taking a seat there. Like any other weekend nights, the place was stuffed. Y/N let her eyes trail over the many patrons of the dingy bar, landing finally on the middle-aged brunette who ran the place

“Ellen!” She called out to the woman.

“Hey, honey,” she approached Y/N, all the while glaring daggers at the drunk she had just previously been arguing with, “A bit overdressed for this place, don't ya think?”

“Your daughter is officially fired from matchmaking services,” Y/N sighed.

“Boy troubles, huh? What can I get ya, hon?” Sympathy was evident in Ellen’s eyes as she spoke. Y/N was as much of a daughter to her as Jo was. The girl had been through so much heartbreak, all Ellen wanted was to see a smile on her face.

“The usual,” Y/N gave a sad smile.

“Rough night indeed, huh?” She raised an eyebrow. The woman in question shrugged defeatedly. Ellen patted her arm in comfort before she left her to arrange for her drink, leaving Y/N to wallow in self-pity.

She thought back to when her life had taken such a traumatic turn. All her friends were either getting engaged, married, or popping out kids. But not Y/n... she was in her late twenties now, and she couldn't even find herself an eligible man.

Ellen pushed the glass towards her. Sighing, she picked it up as she admired the liquid in it. She drank slowly, every sip creating a burning sensation at the back of her throat. Fingers still wrapped around the glassware, she set it down, looking around the bar. The place was filled with mad chatters and howling laughs along with the music blasting from the stereo placed on the deck inside the room, a stark contrast to how lonely she felt. She signaled Ellen for another round, who nodded before giving her that sad understanding smile Y/N was now starting to hate. Frowning, she dropped her head and exhaled.

“Sweetheart, where did that pretty smile for yours go?” Y/N was quickly pulled out from her daze by a very familiar voice; a voice she hadn't heard in a few years. It couldn't be him, he was supposed to be in LA!

“Ella?” The term of endearment brought back dozens of memories, some good and some bad, but all were about him - the freckled face teenage boy with dirty blonde hair and eyes as green as the forest in the summertime she had once fallen for. It brought up the painful memory of their first meet which she had tried to forget so hard.

She remembered the day of their first drama practice when Dean had grudgingly walked into the room. He had reluctantly agreed to play the Prince in the Cinderella act after Cas who was supposed to be the Prince had accidentally ended up with a broken leg. He didn’t know her name, so he had called her ‘Ella’ to get her attention which was the start of their epic friendship.

Y/N didn't dare to turn around to look at him, after all, he wasn't the scrawny teenager from Lawrence anymore. He was now the lead singer and guitarist of a popular rock band with a fancy name and songs that were in the top ten of Billboard music charts. Yes, she did keep up with his rising fame, sometimes even listening to one of his songs before she was once again reminded of the heartbreak he had caused.

“You can't even look at me.” His voice was barely a whisper but loud enough for her to hear as he slid into the stool beside her.

Gathering enough courage, she raised her head. “Dean.” His name rolled off her tongue so easily, but her heart ached for the past. Dean cracked a smile at her as his emerald eyes did not leave hers once. It was as if he was memorizing every tiny detail of her face and if anyone would've asked him, he would've replied that he was.

Y/N hadn't changed much over the years he had spent in LA. She was still the same girl he had first met in school and the last time he had seen her at their graduation. She was a shy girl but they had clicked instantly. Growing up, she was his best friend, his person, his escape.

“Dean Winchester has walked into my bar. Must be my lucky day!” Ellen’s voice thundered across the room, grabbing the attention of a few intoxicated people. “How's LA treating you, boy?”

“Ellen! It's awesome to see you again.” A grin broke out on Dean's face as he jumped out of his seat and pulled the lady into a bear hug. “LA’s pretty okay. It is as good as the industry can be.”

“Heard some of your songs, I knew you had the talent,” Ellen said, jabbing her finger into his chest to prove her point. “Now what can I get ya? On the house.”

“A beer will be just fine. Don't want to show up to the Winchester house drunk!” He chuckled.

“Alright, coming right up. Y/N, honey, you want another round or a glass of water?” The lady asked.

“I'll be leaving in a few. Glass of water it is, El.” She replied but was then interrupted by Dean.

“One drink, with me. It's on me, Ella.” There it was again, that fucking name. A few years ago, that name would have made her cheeks heat up but now, it just made her blood boil. She clenched her hand into fists, tears pricking at her eyes as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Do not call me that.” She hissed, surprising Dean. Y/N turned towards the man, finally taking a good look at him. He had changed a lot, had become more handsome but LA had not modified his clothing style because he was still wearing his signature flannel and jeans accompanied by a jacket. She wondered how many girls had stopped him for a picture or an autograph on his way back to Lawrence, jealousy seeping into her. She hated the way he still had that effect on her.

“Y/N-” She knew what he was going to say. ‘I am sorry’, but she wasn't ready to forgive him now, if ever.

“No. Don't.” She stopped him mid-sentence, hands digging into her purse as she pulled out the money for her drinks, dropping them on the counter.

“El, I am going home.” Ellen, who was silently watching their whole exchange, nodded her head before asking, “Want me to call a cab for you?”

“No. I'm going to crash at your place. I need to have a word with Jo.” Y/N said since it was near impossible for her to walk back to her house, considering she was quite tipsy and still in heels, but she also didn't want to wait until the woman called a cab with Dean Winchester anywhere nearby. After getting her belongings, she got out of the barstool and left the place on wobbly legs. Her feet would no doubt be screaming in pain the next day.

Stepping out, she inhaled deeply, letting a few tears fall as the cool air hit her face. After their graduation, Y/N had sworn she would try her best to forget the older Winchester. She wasn't quite successful in her aim, because many times she would come across his gorgeous face on the cover of a magazine or his song would be playing on the radio, striking up old memories of their time spent together in high school.

Still lost in her thoughts, she took a step forward, only to misjudge the cobblestone path and end up losing her balance. She braced herself for the impending fall but was saved by a pair of strong hands wrapped around her waist.

“Watch your step, sweetheart,” Dean said, letting her down gently. “Lemme see, did you hurt your ankle?” He went down on his knees in front of her, pulling a low gasp out of her as he examined her feet.

“Were you following me?” Y/N gritted out those words.

“No.” He shook his head but she clearly saw through the lie.

“I’m fine. You can go now.” She said, her eyes looking everywhere but the man.

“Come on, don't be so stubborn. Get in the car, I'll drop you off at your house or Jo’s place if you want.” He said looking up, trying to catch her eyes but she was adamant about not giving him that satisfaction. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, lips quivering before she answered.

“Leave me alone.” She muttered, a tear running down her cheek. All that preparation for not breaking down in front of Dean and her body still betrayed her. The man got up. Y/N noticed that he was now wearing a cap, probably to hide from any bystander who might recognize him.

“Y/N/N, I-” Dean was at a loss of words. He hated seeing her so heartbroken and he loathed himself for being the cause of it. He tried to reach out and hold her hand but she recoiled back, making him wince. “Please, Ella.”

“Stop calling me that, Winchester. How many times do I have to repeat that?” Her voice came out as a little whine, making Dean chuckle. He missed it - her tone, the timbre, the intensity in her pitch, and the words it said, which used to be his voice of reason; he missed his best friend. “Why the fuck would you laugh at that? I am not doing stand up comedy out here.” Y/N was still the strong-headed girl he adored.

“You'll probably hurt yourself if you walk in those heels again with how tipsy you are right now. Get in the car, I know you missed cruising around the town in Baby because she missed you for sure.” And that thankfully got the exact reaction out of her that he had anticipated. She finally looked right at him, her face lit up at the pretense of seeing the beloved black car again.

“I thought she was in LA with you.” Y/N said and then it dawned on her, “Did you drive across the States?”

“Damn right I did!” He beamed in reply like he had won a trophy, his heart swelling with happiness when he saw the smile forming on her face mixed with awe and surprise. He still had to go a long way to get her back, but he had to take baby steps. At least he managed to make her smile. “So? Want to go out, just like the old times?”

The smile instantly disappeared from Y/N’s lips and Dean knew he fucked up right then. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned the good ol’ days. “Sweetheart, I'm sorry-”

“Just drop me off at Jo’s. That's it.” She said, lowering her gaze. He waved her over to the direction where his car was parked. Y/N started to walk along as Dean wordlessly followed her.

Y/N felt a wave of nausea hit her. She didn't do well in social gatherings and this was her graduation ceremony. One wrong step, one wrong word, or a wardrobe malfunction, and the day could turn into a disaster in an instant.

“Honey, you're gonna be excellent out there! We're all very proud of you.” Mary said while hugging Y/N tightly as they both waited on the former's older son to come downstairs who was running late, as usual. She had grown incredibly close to the Winchester family over the years. They were her rock, especially Dean who was there with her at every step as she went through the separation of her parents.

“Are you and John going to join my parents at the ceremony? Someone needs to stop them before they end up killing each other.” She grimaced.

“Isn't this going to be the first time they are together in one single room, since their….you know-” Sam asked as he came out of the kitchen, a green smoothie in his hands. Dean might have been her best friend, her confidante, but Sam was the little brother she never thought she needed.

“First get that green drink outta my sight, I already feel like I'm gonna throw up. Second, you can speak about the divorce. It's not taboo and it was a long time coming. Everyone knew that.” Y/N reluctantly said. The separation of her parents might have been foreseeable but, nevertheless, it still hurt her to see her parents walkout in two separate ways once the divorce was finalized. The house had become much quieter these days which she was thankful for but she also felt the evident absence of her father.

“Mom and Dad will definitely be there!” Dean announced loudly as he came down the stairs. “Come on let's go. Don't wanna be late for our own graduation ceremony!” She could always count on him to make her day better.

“I should have told you.”

“W-what?” Y/N asked dumbfoundedly as Dean’s gruff voice broke her out of the reverie and pulled her back to reality. A minute passed when she noticed even if his hands were on the steering, he wasn't driving anymore.

“This-” she looked out of the window, “this isn't Jo’s place.”

“No, this is our place,” Dean said.

“Dean.” This was the last place she wanted to be at, let alone be here with Dean. It had taken every ounce of her strength to not run back to this place over the past few years whenever she missed her best friend, only to realize that he had left her in the dust on his path to fame and didn't care about her as much as she used to think. Too many memories were attached to this particular place.

“I missed this, Y/N.” He said, killing the engine and slowly opening the door on his side. Y/N understood what he was trying to do and her mind screamed at her in protest to not follow him but her heart told her to follow the man it belonged to.

Dean finally stepped out of the car and walked over to the closed door on her side. She opened the door herself before he could and stepped out as well with a huff. The place was the same as it ever was. “I haven't been here since graduation.” She blurted out.

“I should have told you,” Dean said as they started to walk to their spot. Y/N chose to remain quiet. “Ella, please say somethin’.”

“I am not your Ella anymore, Dean. Stop calling me that.” She said but this time it wasn't a whine, instead, she yelled it out. She was sick and tired of yearning for the man who had broken her heart several years ago and now she was scared that he was gonna leave her once again.

“You'll always be my Ella.” He said.

“The Prince didn't lie to Cinderella and leave her behind but you- it hurts me to remember how close we were then. You left me without even a simple goodbye, so no, I am not your Ella anymore.” She flinched when he reached out for her.

He had stopped walking now and so had she. Dean moved closer to her before standing exactly in front of her. His hands lightly traced her jaw as she looked up at him. She looked just as enchanting under the moonlight as he remembered. He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs gently caressed her cheeks. She had given up fighting herself now, driven only by instinct. All the walls that she had put up came crumbling down with one touch of his.

“Why do you think I didn't say goodbye to you?” Dean whispered.

“Maybe all the years that we spent together meant nothing to you.” Her voice was like a melody to his ears but the words broke his heart even further.

“Because it was too damn hard. When RC Records called me up three days before graduation, you were the first person I wanted to tell, but I couldn't, ‘cause if I did, I wouldn't have made it to where I am right now.” He said, not a trace of mirth on his face.

“I wouldn't have held you back.” It was simple. Y/N always wanted to stay in Lawrence and look over her mother's bakery shop, and that's what she ended up doing. She now owned the shop and her business was thriving. Dean had wanted to become a singer ever since he was ten when he was forced to play the Prince, opposite to Y/N’s lead. He had found his passion and she had always encouraged it, even when John had strongly protested against him choosing music as his major. “You know I always supported you.”

“I know that, but thinking about not seeing you every day made me not want to go. I kept imagining you upset and that's why I didn't have it in me to tell you about my break.” He said. Y/N grabbed his hands pushing them away from her face.

“You ended up making me sad anyway. So why the fuck are you back?” She was enraged.

“Ella-” Dean tried to come closer but she stepped back, “I came to see my family.”

“Then why are you wasting your time here with me?”

“Because you're the most important person in my life and every day I spent away from you, you were the only person on my mind.” Dean smiled.

“What?”

“You were the first thought when I woke up and the last thought when I went to sleep.” He said and pulled her close when she finally stopped fighting. “I love you, Y/N Y/L/N. I know I am late and probably missed my chance, but five years in LA have taught me to take the risks. I love you, Ella.”

“I can't-” Dean’s smile felt but he quickly recovered.

“I-I understand.” He let out a dry chuckle, “You got a man back at home waiting for you. He sure is one lucky bastard.”

“No. You do not fucking understand! You are just so in your head, it's just-” She flailed her arms around in utter frustration. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to move on? I have been on so many dates but no man was ever enough for me, all because of your sorry ass! The Graduation Day - I knew you always thought of me as your best friend, so I had decided to ask you out myself,”

“Y/N-”

“No, let me finish. You have to fucking listen about how much pain you put me through these five years! The next day, I went to your house only to hear from your parents that you were on your way to LA. I fucking hate you!” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I fucking hate how much I still love you, Dean!”

His eyes widened in surprise as he kept opening and closing his mouth like a damn fish. He was unable to form a coherent sentence and so he cupped Y/N’s cheeks in his big, warm hands once more, but now he dipped down, tilting his face and pulling her in for a kiss. His teeth grazed her bottom lips, making her moan into his mouth. She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks as she found herself completely enamored by him. Her hands snuck to the back of his neck as she steadied herself. Her knees buckled under his hypnotic touch as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, her whole body tingled and toes curled up as his tongue explored every inch of her mouth.

“De,” Y/N tried to catch her breath when Dean finally let go of her lips, already missing the feel of her on him.

His hands traveled down her body, making her gasp aloud at the feel. He lowered his mouth as he started to leave a trail of kisses along her jaw and down her neck. “Dean, please. Don't.” Her three short words made him stop.

“Alright.” He gulped.

“I don't want to get my heart broken again, Winchester, I don't think I can survive it again.” Y/N knew he would return to LA within a week, and so she didn't want to take this any further. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, right?”

“I won't. I am not going back.” Y/N looked at him, surprise evident in her eyes, “I don't care about my career anymore. Five years without you was like living in hell and my bandmates are probably so tired of hearing how much I missed you. I will write my songs from here in Lawrence if it means that I'll be closer to you.”

“You would do that for me?” She asked sincerely.

“I would. I was a stupid kid back then but now I have realized that nothing's more important to me than you. I don't want to lose my Ella ever again.” He said, “I'm sorry for taking so long to understand that. There is no way-” His words were cut off as Y/N captured his lips with her own. The sudden kiss caught him off guard but he quickly pulled himself together to kiss her back. “Shit, Y/N-” he gasped when he felt his dick twitch. He picked her up in quick motion and went towards the car. Y/N giggled when her back lightly collided with Baby’s door. Dean dropped his head, nipping at the pulse point on her neck.

“Dean-” She moaned, which was better than any music he had ever made as his hands slipped under her dress, his fingers hovering over her soaked panties. Her thighs clenched in anticipation.

“You have no idea how long I dreamt of having you. You're soaked, sweetheart. ” He huskily said, his fingers hooking on the waistband of her cotton panties. “Tell me to stop and I will, in a heartbeat. No questions.”

“N-no. Don't stop.” Y/N cooed. Dean dragged down her panties which pooled at her feet. He picked it up and stuffed it into his pocket. Thankfully, there was no one around but the thrill of being out in the open with Dean got her even more hot and bothered. Her hands grasped onto his biceps tightly so that she wouldn't topple over when Dean slipped a finger into her tight pussy. Her mouth fell open, her head dropping on his shoulder as he started pumping slowly, every drag of his finger pushing her closer to the edge.

Dean felt his pants tighten as he heard the sweet moan of his name leave her lips. Her raspy voice was one he could hear all day long, her heavy pants tickling his skin. With one hand he unbuckled his belt, trying to relieve himself a little, but when a cry of pleasure left her lips as he slipped in another finger, he hoped that he wouldn't cream his pants like a freaking teenage boy.

Y/N felt the coil in her stomach tighten as she inched towards her climax. Dean quickened his pace, curling his fingers inside her and brushing her g-spot, each time eliciting a low moan out of her. “Dean….” She couldn't form any coherent words other than chanting his name over and over again and a moment later, the coil snapped as she felt herself coming undone. He delicately pulled his fingers out of her, which were covered in her juice. Dean reached behind her, yanking the door open as he nudged her to go in. She readily obliged and slid into the seat with shaky legs. He climbed into the backseat after her, closing the door behind him.

Her dress had ridden up her thigh, exposing her glistening pussy. Dean’s eyes darkened at the sight before him as he swiftly pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it somewhere in the front. He pushed her dress further up. She raised her hands as he successfully got her out of the garment and unhooked her bra. Y/N moved further back into the seat, her back resting against the door on the other side as Dean started to leave kisses down her body.

“Have you ever thought about this? ‘Cause I did, every freaking day.” Dean asked, kissing the valley between her breasts, the rumble of his voice sending shivers down her spine.

“E-every time I touched myself, I thought of you.” She said, gasping out loud at every word when his mouth found her breasts and started to suck on the soft skin, flicking a nipple with his tongue and twirling the other within his fingers.

“Oh-” Dean raised his head to look at her before he moved south, “Did you think about me between your legs just like this-” He said as he left kisses along her thigh, his stubble creating soft burns on her skin in its wake that she would definitely remember. He finally stopped at her nether regions, his hot breath fanning against her throbbing pussy. “Did you think about me tasting you like this?”

Y/N threw her head back in pleasure when his mouth latched onto her sensitive bundle of nerves, his tongue flicking at her aching nub. Her hands traveled down to his head, her fingers getting tangled up in his soft hair and pulled at the strands, making him groan.

“Fuck-” She exclaimed as Dean hungrily devoured her, his tongue repeatedly assaulting her sensitive pussy, sucking needily on her bundle of nerves. Y/N threw her head back in pleasure as she felt the coil in your stomach tighten before a wave of pleasure washed over her. “Shit!” She gasped as Dean’s tongue lapped her juices hungrily.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you taste so good.” He panted before he unbuttoned his pants pushing them down along with his boxers, freeing his erection sprung from his confines. “Son of a bitch, I don’t have-” Y/N sensed his uneasiness.

“I’m on the pill.” She smirked as she stared at his toned body.

“Well, I’m clean.” She reached out to touch his stomach, hands then traveling down to his length. Dean dropped his head, biting down on his lips, “Y/N-” He pushed her hands away, smirking as he ran his hand along his hardened cock, giving it a few strokes, the tip beaded with precum. He looked at Y/N once and lined himself with her dripping entrance when she gave him a nod to go ahead.

His swollen tip teasingly nudged at her opening before he pushed himself into her.

“Shit Y/N-” Dean grunted, simultaneously as Y/N hissed out at the painful sensation at the beginning as he pushed himself into her, letting her adjust around his size before she told him to move. He circled his hips as he slowly pulled out, leaving only the tip of his engorged cock inside her, before pushing back in again, deeper than before.

“Holy fuck-” Y/N moaned out when he quickened his pace, hitting her g-spot repeatedly with every thrust as they both inched towards their release. Dean kissed her as he continued to thrust deep into her, their breathing growing erratic, the windows of the chevy fogged up and the car filled with their groans and moans as they both chased their release. She hooked her arms at the small of his back as he started to nibble at her sweet spot. His hand moved south, his thumb rubbing circles on her clit which further edged her.

“Shit De!” Y/N cried out loud as her walls fluttered around his pulsating length when she felt herself coming undone. Dean’s thrusts became sloppy as he grunted into the crook of her neck before he spilled into her with one cry of her name, painting her walls with his seed. He dropped his head, trying to catch his breath before he gently pulled out.

“Fuck sweetheart.” Dean panted, beads of sweat lining his forehead as they both laid in each other’s arms, basking in the post-coital bliss. “Was this better than your fantasies? ‘Cause, ‘twas surely better than mine.” Dean smirked, reaching out to grab a piece of cloth to clean themselves up. “We should have done this sooner.”

“If only you hadn't been such a coward.” Y/n teased with a giggle.

“Your dumbass could have called me up. I wasted five years being one, terrified to hear how much you hate me.” He grumbled, cleaning up the mess on the seat. Honestly, she could have but she didn't ‘cause she was scared to hear the truth as well; that Dean had truly left her.

“So, you’re sayin’ we’re both a couple of dumbasses.” Y/N chuckled, putting on her bra.

“Your words, not mine.” Dean gave her a sly smirk. “The Winchester household will be so delighted, once they know I finally got my head out of my ass and looked at the beautiful woman right in front of me.” He was right in every sense. The Winchesters, all of them had always believed that those two would end up together. Everyone saw how in love they were except Y/N and Dean.

“Isn't it too early for the introduce-the-girlfriend-to-the-family thing?” She asked which got an eye roll out of the man. “Panties?”

“I don't have them.” Dean sneakily raised his hands.

“I saw you stuff them into your pocket.” He grabbed her dress from the front seat, throwing it at her.

“Put this on, or preferably, just don't.” He gave her a boyish smile, getting a raised eyebrow in reply, “Oh I'm not done with you. Gotta make up for the lost years, sweetheart.” Dean's eyes darkened at the thought as Y/N gulped, knowing she wouldn't be able to walk properly for weeks.

Feedback is highly appreciated!

[thisaliennerd]

Healing at Hollyhill

(Read on AO3 -  There’s no romantic stuff here, just ex-spouses being friends, but Sandra Lynn is Sandra Lynn, and I think we all know the proposition she makes, so you know, there’s that.)

Summary:  Have you ever wondered what Gilear and Sandra Lynn’s convo was like while the Bad Kids were having their shrimp party? Well, here’s a little snippet of that heart to heart.

~~~

Honestly, whatever is going on in the house should be supervised, but what adult wants to supervise a bunch of drunk, extremely powerful, loud teenagers, that they technically work for? They’ll be fine. How weird can it get?

Sandra Lynn sighs, leans her head back against the seat of the van, and closes her eyes. “They’re going to remember to pull out mattresses, right?”

Gilear smiles, “Sure.” 

“That’s comforting.”

“They’ve handled it every other time one of them has been possessed. They will be fine.”

“Mmm…”

Gilear leans forward, studying Sandra Lynn’s face. “So, what’s up with you?”

She opens her eyes, looking down at him. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything. We’ve just been talking a lot about me. What’s your deal?”

She sighs again, rubbing her face. “You want to know what my deal is? You want to know my business? Fine.” She leans forward so that her face is inches from Gilear’s, staring deep into his eyes. “Jawbone and I broke up.”

Gilear smiles softly and sits back. “I’m sorry.”

She looks down at her hands. “No, it’s ok. It’s what I deserve. I’m a fuck up.” 

“Well, sure, but look who you’re talking to.”

Sandra Lynn exhales softly in amusement. “You’re not a fuck up.”

“Sandra Lynn, look at me for a second,” Sandra Lynn looks up at Gilear. “I was stuck,” she starts giggling, “under the van,” he smiles too as she continues to giggle, “with an apple in my mouth,” Sandra Lynn is fully laughing now, “for a full day.” She laughs even harder. “And no one even noticed.”

Sandra Lynn’s laughter ebbs and a sadness reappears in her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that…”

“I see what you’re doing. It’s fine. There was a lot going on. Let’s not shift this back to me.”

Sandra Lynn whispers, “...damn it.” She looks up at him, “We broke up because I cheated on him. Multiple times.” Gilear raises an eyebrow, but Sandra Lynn just holds up a finger. “I don’t want to talk about it. But yeah, it happened, and we broke up. I fucked up another relationship, and yeah. That’s it. That’s all there is to it.”

“Is it?”

“What?”

“Well, in my experience of you,” 

Sandra Lynn shakes her head a little, smiling wryly, “Mmhm…” 

Gilear continues, “When you feel like you have fucked up and made a mistake, you tend to double down on it.”

Sandra Lynn barks out a laugh, “You know what, no! I don’t think that’s true, actually.”

“No?”

“No, I think when I’m faced with the actual consequences of my actions, I back down and try to get my shit together.” 

“Really? Because I remember an incident where you were begging me to stay when you really should have been talking to Fig.”

Sandra Lynn slaps a hand over her heart. “Ow, Gil, Jesus!”

“I’m sorry, that felt mean.”

“No, you’re right, that did happen, but then you yelled at me, and I got it together and took responsibility. Look, what I’m saying is what causes me to get drunk and go fuck someone I shouldn’t is usually a feeling of having too much responsibility that I can’t handle, feelings of guilt, or feelings of being unworthy, so then I do fuck up, and that amplifies and confirms those fears, and that creates a vicious cycle of feeling terrible about myself and continuously messing up. However, when I’m confronted by the people that I’ve hurt and betrayed, it makes me want to change and be better, so I try and I build back up, but then I end up in that position of having responsibility and shit, and I crash back down again. So it’s a cycle, and me being better actually just restarts that cycle.”

“Maybe that’s because you aren’t dealing with the root of the problem.”

“God, don’t get all cryptic on me. Just say what you’re going to say so we can move on.”

Gilear smiles a little and nods, “Maybe, the problem is that your “attempt to be better” is fueled by self-loathing instead of a genuine desire to change.” 

“What the fuck? Who are you?”

“Someone who up until very recently exclusively made decisions fueled by self-loathing.”

“How could I not hate myself, though? I have fucked up every good thing in my life because I have no self-control and don’t know how to deal with responsibility. It’s never anyone’s fault but my own. For you, it was my guilt over you leaving Fallinel for me, over not wanting kids, and feeling unworthy of your love. For Jawbone, it was the realization that I was failing Fig, the knowledge that four kids are now relying on me for a home, looking to me as a parental figure, and then coming along on this mission, it brought back so many memories of adventuring, needing to be a role model, and then just a deep, deep fear that Fig might be following down the same path as me. You know, with the drinking and drugs and making out with old men. I just feel so out of control as a parent, as a human. And that makes me do stupid things. I have every reason to hate myself.” 

“Yeah, sure. I’m an adult man who almost exclusively eats yogurt. On the surface, there’s no reason that we can’t loathe ourselves and live sad lives. Except that’s not true. There is one reason why we can’t do that.” Sandra Lynn looks curiously up at him, and Gilear simply says, “Fig.”

Sandra Lynn looks curious but doesn’t speak.

Gilear continues, “The only thing that is preventing me from just succumbing to my pathetic life is the knowledge that Fig would try to pull me out of it if I did. She has put her time and energy into trying to make my life better, and it shouldn’t be that way. We should be doing that for her, but instead, she’s trying to do that for us. It would be cruel to her for us to force her to work harder to keep us afloat. I think if there’s anything we can do for her, it’s to try our hardest to be the best we can.”

“Holy shit…”

“She didn’t have to take us back into her life. She had every motive to continue to reject and hate us, but she chose to love is, and that is a magic in and of itself. I’m just a guy. There is nothing inherently special or magical about me. But Fig choosing to love me makes me special, and I’d be a fool and a coward not to try my hardest to make that choice worthwhile for her.”

“Damn...yeah. 

“We owe her. She’s not going to give up on us, so it’s irresponsible of us to give up on ourselves.”

Sandra Lynn tears up, “She’s so good. Such a good person. We don’t deserve her.”

“Of course we don’t. But she’s chosen us.”

Sandra Lynn looks at Gilear, wipes her eyes, and softly says, “I love you.”

Gilear sighs, “I love you too.”

There’s a long pause. It’s not uncomfortable, it’s peaceful. And then Sandra Lynn looks up at her ex-husband, a mix of sadness, longing, regret, love, and amusement fill her eyes, and she says, “Wanna fuck?”

Gilear bursts into laughter, Sandra Lynn smiles and chuckles lightly, the look on her face now a mixture of genuine earnestness and dry comedy. 

Gilear gently shakes his head, "No." 

Sandra Lynn smiles sadly, the knowledge that what they once had is gone settles in both of their minds, and she says, "Didn't think so, just thought I'd ask."

There's a moment of comfortable silence, and then Sandra Lynn looks back at Gilear with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and says "Are you sure?" She gestures up and down her body, "I mean, you're turning down this?" 

Gilear smiles awkwardly and a little sadly, "I don't want to rub salt in the wound…" 

Sandra Lynn sticks her tongue in her cheek, smiling in that slightly bitter, sarcastic way, “Uh, huh…”

“But, I...have a girlfriend.”

Sandra Lynn lets out a heavy exhale, “Yeah...damn.” She shakes her head, laughing a little.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. You do have a girlfriend.”

“I know you don’t particularly like her.”

“No, Hallariel is…” She pauses, searching for words. Gilear snorts and they both start laughing. 

Gilear shakes his head, “I understand that she can be...difficult.” Sandra Lynn raises an eyebrow. “And I know that it looks bad that she didn’t notice I was missing, but in her defense, no one did.” 

“I don’t know, Gil. You live in her garage.” 

Gilear laughs a little, “I know, but it was more that my apartment was dangerous to live in, but it was really too early to move in together, so she offered to let me live in her garage, and I said yes. I know you tend to move in with your partners immediately,” Sandra Lynn rolls her eyes and laughs a little, “But most people wait a while.”

Sandra Lynn sighs, “I mean, sure. All I’m trying to say is I feel like every time I’ve seen you two interact, I just get so sad for you.”

“Yeah, I...listen, Hallariel Seacaster is one of the most deeply selfish people I have ever met."

“Reeaalllyy selling it there, Gil.”

He sighs, smiling, “I wasn’t done. Hallariel is an extremely selfish person, but she hates herself for it. She feels like her fear over living for centuries made her push people away. And because of that, she feels like she’s been a bad partner and a failure of a mother,” Gilear looks over at Sandra Lynn, “Stop me when this sounds familiar.”

Sandra Lynn gasps, “Oh my god!”

Gilear smiles, “You and Hallariel are similar in more ways than either of you would like to admit.”

Sandra Lynn shakes her head. 

“That being said, you are also very different people. You are not a bad mother. You’re a flawed person with a traumatic past, but you’ve done your best. That isn’t the case for Hallariel. I don’t want to...reveal anything that I shouldn’t, but unlike you, she didn’t try to be a good mother. Her fear over losing another child,” Sandra Lynn raises an eyebrow and winces and sighs, “Whelp, ol’ Gilear already fucked that one up, but yes, losing another child, and the knowledge that she would outlive her husband, caused her to shut herself off entirely. She very deeply regrets that choice. She claims that the thing that she found, I don’t want to say attractive because I don’t think that anything about me can be called attractive,” 

Sandra Lynn laughs, but looks a little sad, and says, “I find you attractive!”

“No, it’s fine, I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity! I do find you attractive.”

Gilear sighs deeply, “Sandra Lynn…”

“I’m sorry, did you miss the offer I just made you?”

“Yeah, but that kinda felt like a “I just broke up with my boyfriend and need a distraction and you are literally the only other adult here” kind of situation.”

Sandra Lynn snorts, “I mean...sure. But I do find you attractive, and it was a genuine offer.”

“Fine, well, regardless, she says that what drew her to me was Fig. Or more specifically, my love for Fig. I am willing to put my well being and often my life in harm’s way for Fig, and she fundamentally can’t understand how to do that, but she wants to. Now, I don’t necessarily agree with that, I don’t think I’ve been much of a father for years, but she believes that I am a good parent and she admires that about me, I suppose.”

“You are a good dad, Gil. You’ve always been a good dad. And you always will be. It’s something I’ve always loved about you.” Sandra Lynn sighs, closing her eyes, “Look, I know we’re trying not to shit on ourselves today, but the longer we’ve been on this trip, the more I’ve realized that the only thing keeping Fig from being me is you. You know what I mean? Because that kid has picked up, frankly, far more of my coping mechanisms than I’d like. But the one thing that is keeping her from becoming me, is her undying loyalty to the people she loves, and she didn’t get that from me. She got it from you. Fig cares so deeply and loves so fully that it prevents her from falling to that cycle of betrayal and infidelity. You taught her that by loving her in that way, and I cannot thank you enough for that. So if that’s the reason that Hallarial loves you, I’d say it’s earned.”

Gilear smiles softly, “Well, thank you.”

“It’s true.”

“I stand by what I said, as well. You’re not a bad mother. You’ve taught Fig so many things that I couldn’t, you can relate to her. You know what she’s going through. And you are able to physically protect her in a way that I can’t.”

“Yeah, you gotta be good at something, I guess.”

“You’re good at a lot of things.”

“I’d rather be good at being a person." 

"And I'd rather not die every other day. We both have things to work on. But we have a motive, so let's do it for Fig."

"Yeah. For Fig."

And Sandra Lynn and Gilear sit together in the van, Sandra Lynn puts her hand on Gilear’s knee, and there they stay, chatting in a calm healing way until sunrise.

[keyofjetwolf]

Just when you thought it was safe to be a piece of shit

I jumped into Season 5 of BoJack this morning, fresh from my rewatch of the entire series, start to finish. I’d already seen all the previous seasons, but it was a couple years ago; S4 was just wrapping up, and I hadn’t touched it since. Not for lack of interest! Quite the contrary, I thought season 4 particularly was some incredibly strong storytelling all around, and I was completely blown away by its penultimate episode “Time’s Arrow”. But there was Life And Things, and I didn’t make the time for S5, so I also didn’t watch S6 when it aired, and by the time I thought about picking it back up, I knew I’d want to rewatch the whole thing to put it all in context, which meant MORE time, and anyway, you can see where @docholligay​ was finally “Fuck it, I’m sponsoring this.”

All the impetus I needed, clearly. That rewatch I did, and I’m glad for it, as I’d forgotten so many details, AND how fucking good this show is. It’s funny and dark and incredibly uncomfortable in ways that aren’t always flattering, and I love it. I didn’t RE-rewatch “Time’s Arrow” before starting today, but I had to wrestle myself out of it, that’s how much I wanted to.

So it was with some surprise that I found myself not really enjoying Season 5 as much as was expecting.

I SHOULDN’T have expected to. That was my first mistake. We left BoJack in a really good place, with a smile and a hope and the opportunity to maybe maybe maybe finally crawl out of the pit he’s constantly trying to bury himself in. He didn’t have the responsibility of fatherhood, but the promise of brotherhood. Hollyhock is a pretty alright kid, fundamentally fucked up juuuust enough to remind him of himself, and with the kind of love and support he’s always craved. If she can be okay, then maybe he can be okay, too.

Or, from another angle, if she can be okay, then he’ll have the proof he’s always wanted that every bad thing he’s ever done wasn’t REALLY his fault.

OH BOJACK YOU ABSOLUTELY SHIT WILL YOU NEVER LEARN

Maybe at the end of the series you finally will, I don’t know. But certainly not right now. You can’t learn. You never learning is the point.

One of the strengths of the show, though, is how BoJack gets opportunity after opportunity after opportunity to NOT be a piece of shit. To be a better person, to not be so selfish and self-centered and lazy and spiteful and BAD. We know it’s in there! We get these incredible little flashes of the sort of person he could be, if he’d just try a little harder, if he’d just put in the effort to be better today than he was yesterday.

That was my mistake, coming in: BoJack ended Season 4 with the high, and like any good roller coaster, it’s the slow tip at the top that makes the plummet to the bottom so heady.

That’s these beginning episodes of Season 5. Setting the stage(s), arranging the pieces back on the board, getting everything in motion for the drop to come.

WHICH I THINK WE JUST HIT HARD

First, yay Ana Spanakopita! Second: OOO

I love SO hard how this is NOT GOING AWAY. Both in how the show has never played any of this as remotely okay, but also in how it haunts BoJack. It’s his lowest moment, and he’s using it as a finely crafted weapon to bludgeon himself. But WHILE ALSO taking a perverse sort of ... pride isn’t the right word, but desire to have MATTERED in some way, even if it was a truly awful way. His insistence that he’s ruined Penny’s life, despite all apparent evidence to the contrary (see also the incredible “That’s Too Much, Man!”, ps what is with this show and penultimate season enders??), carries a perverse need to have impacted her life, even if that impact was traumatizing for her. The idea that BoJack could have mattered so little is MORE abhorrent to him than the actions themselves.

THAT IS INDEED TOO MUCH MAN I SEE YOU SHOW

So now we have what I think is the last tip before we go into free fall. BoJack is trying (kinda) to drink less and be sober more. He’s trying (kinda) to be a good friend to Princess Carolyn and Diane. HE ACTUALLY CONNECTED SOME DOTS ALL ON HIS OWN ABOUT FEMINISM. That I put that in caps, by the way, further makes the show’s point about how low our bar is for men on this, and well fucking done, by the way, kudos.

Will all that ACTUALLY mean BoJack is going to do better? Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? He’s about to be tested again, another opportunity is approaching. What he’ll do with that is the entire show premise. But whichever path he takes this time would mean so much less without these slower episodes establishing for us where he, and everyone else, are standing. It’s a thing I dearly love about Bojack Horseman: it takes the time it needs to give you insight into where the characters are and what’s around them.

It gives the characters enough rope to hang themselves.

SPEAKING OF HOW’S THAT GOING FOR YOU DIANE

Diane is such an interesting character, in a show pretty much overflowing with interesting characters. She makes such a good compare/contrast with BoJack, in that it’s easy to look at Diane and say “What a good person!” She’s smart and funny, if awkward and plain (by Hollywoo standards). She’s socially and politically aware and cares about important issues. She wants to make the world better!

Only, does she? Much like BoJack, Diane is given opportunity after opportunity to Do Good, both personally and professionally. And she tries! (Most times, sort of.) It often blows up in her face, or isn’t what she expected, or it gets really hard, but she tries! Until she doesn’t. Until she runs back home, and can’t face her husband and the reality of her giving up, so she hides at BoJack’s house and stays drunk for months. Until she gets what she wants, and keeps getting what she wants, and then ruining it all because she never actually wanted it. and doesn’t know what to do once she has it anyway.

Like I said, she and BoJack can be frighteningly alike.

If I had to pick an overall favourite character, though, it’d probably be Princess Carolyn. 

Oh she’s fucked up too, but in a much more together sort of way. She’s as much the voice of reason as is anyone in this show, and I want her to get her little family SO MUCH. (Jesus wept, I forgot all about “Ruthie” until my rewatch and it PUNCHED ME IN THE FUCKING GUT.) These first few episodes though didn’t really do a hell of a lot for PC though, save for basically having her ONE AGAIN wound up in BoJack’s terrible, terrible orbit.

If that sounds like a complaint, it isn’t. I love the way the show explores the push and the pull, how it’s one thing to want to leave someone, to know you SHOULD leave someone, and yet how hard that can be. How even when you make that break, the potential to fall back into bad habits never really leaves you. EVERYTHING about this show is difficult, for everybody, all the time, and nothing good happens without effort.

Unless, of course, you’re Mr. Peanutbutter.

If you thought I’d love Mr. Peanutbutter, well, YOU’RE RIGHT I DO. And I’m DEEPLY interested in where ultimately his character is going to go. Of all the main characters, I feel he’s the one with the least depth to him, but then I think that’s the point, too. Every protagonist needs a foil, and for BoJack, that would be Mr. Peanutbutter, the guy who life has basically handed everything, including being generally too stupid to feel bad about anything, especially himself.

But that’s not entirely true. For all that he’s BoJack’s bright, sunny, charisma-filled opposite, no matter what he tried to do for Diane, it wasn’t enough. And as his third wife, it’s probably safe to say he tried hard with his previous wives too, with equal success. The show plays up the dog element of Mr. Peanutbutter a bit harder than it does many of the other animal people on the show, and included in that is how “his person” is the true center of Mr. PB’s world. But he can’t hold them, he can’t keep them wanting to be around him, and while it’s quickly undercut with a laugh, he more than once expressed genuine fear that Diane would leave him. Now she has, and while we’ve not yet seen any fallout from that (focusing instead on how he’s immediately found a new girlfriend), I strongly suspect we will.

I’m not sure if this “tough guy role” situation is going to go further than the episode in which it featured, but I DO think it has long-term potential as the latest in a string of things Mr. PB has wanted, but couldn’t make happen for himself, and how unusual that is for him. He’s the cheerful optimistic one, sure, but what does that mean when he’’s also never really felt any of life’s pressures to be otherwise?

Then there was Todd.

Todd, I pretty much never know what the fuck they’re going to do with you, and after these four episodes, I see we’re not going to change that now. I did some thinking on Todd though, on his place in what I feel are the show’s overarching themes, and I THINK Todd is by and large an example of what we should strive for. He’s kind and generous, he loves to help and is always there when people need him, and perhaps embodying what I think is the show’s greatest message, even when Todd fucks up, he keeps trying.

Of all the main characters, I think Todd has grown the most, to the point where he pretty much doesn’t even INTERACT with BoJack any more. (NOR SHOULD HE.) Todd is getting really good about setting (and enforcing!) his boundaries, to the point where he’s developing his own circle of characters outside of the show. They even make a fucking JOKE about it.

Every season, Todd is feeling like he fits in less with this show, but I don’t think that’s the show not knowing what to do with him, I think it’s by design. Todd is outgrowing this story, he’s moving on, and it’s hard not to be happy for him for that.

We’ll see, of course. We’re only four episodes in, and if we stick with my roller coaster analogy, there’s a whole lot of track left ahead of us. Wherever we’re set to go, the one thing I feel pretty confident in is that it won’t be a smooth ride for anyone.

[sagemoderocklee]

How do you see Sasuke and Gaara's relationship as friends/evolved towards friendship?

i love this question anon! thank you! i hope i can do it justice, because i definitely feel that Sasuke and Gaara have a lot of potential in relating to one another. They are both incredibly similar, i’d say more so than Naruto, and while they do have a lot of differences, I think ultimately they share more common trauma and mental health issues than not. 

Which is why i wish the potential friendship wasn’t glossed over or just reduced to bad jokes from the fandom about gaara being jealous of sasuke 

now it’s been a while since i’ve done a full rewatch, but i think the first thing that should be pointed out is that gaara picked sasuke. during the chuunin exams, he saw sasuke as an equal before he ever so much as fought sasuke. he overlooked naruto, he underestimated lee... but he picked sasuke. he saw sasuke, he saw the look in his eyes and he knew. he knew they were the same--they were both deeply scarred from their childhoods of abuse, neglect, violence, betrayal... Yashamaru, the only person Gaara had in his life who he thought loved him, tried to kill him; Itachi, the person Sasuke idolized, his older brother who was perfect and wonderful, killed their entire clan and then tortured sasuke. 

they both had a deeply violent trauma inflicted upon them from a very young age, and they both went to a very dark place. both were also shown to be somewhat similar as children--both kind, both warm, both caring, both loving. I would argue that prior to the trauma, they were both on a path towards becoming incredibly soft, gentle men--a fact which does play out with Gaara and to an extent Sasuke (look at his relationship with animals). Naruto, though he has gone to a dark place too, reacted differently to his trauma. He became loud, he became a trouble maker. He wanted to be acknowledged, so he acted out. Gaara and Sasuke were not on a path towards acknowledgement.  

Sasuke wanted vengeance for his clan--something that he was told to seek out by itachi himself. Gaara, though it’s less explicit, wanted vengeance for himself. 

I think in his choice to love only himself and to kill as a way to prove his existence, really speaks to a similar perspective that Sasuke had. He needed to be the strongest, he needed to be the best--but for Gaara, Yashamaru was already dead. He couldn’t do anything to his father, the Kazekage, which is where the blame should be placed--his father and the council. But he can’t do anything to them, and he can’t just destroy his entire village though he obviously did try. Gaara’s actions, his reactions, everything about his breakdown and subsequent change after Yashamaru’s betrayal and death speaks to feeling trapped, feeling like he had no other options, feeling helpless. 

I think Sasuke also felt helpless. 

Sasuke was forced to live in the Uchiha compound even after the massacre. He had to relive the trauma he’d faced over and over again. He was forced to walk the same streets where he’d found the bodies of every one of his family members, he was forced to live in the house he’d found his parents... over and over again. every single day for years. 

That sort of repetitive trauma creates a sense of helplessness, and pushes him harder to follow the path Itachi laid out for him. He’s desperate to kill itachi, which makes him an easy target for later manipulation. 

Gaara’s repeated trauma wasn’t just the abuse from the village, which is obviously something he does share with Naruto, but specifically the five other assassination attempts on his life (something that Naruto does not share). Obviously, those other attempts would have similarly resulted in the deaths of those five other ANBU who’d been given that task. But those attempts on his life are not only singularly traumatic for Gaara in that the attempts are being made at all, but they also rehash the horrible betrayal from Yashamaru and his subsequent death. They remind him time and again that his father hates him. His village hates him, his uncle hated him, his mother hated him. I think, in many ways, the violent deaths around Gaara, caused by him, are a rehashing of that trauma caused by Yashamaru. While Gaara was trying to embody what Yashamaru said, what his mother supposedly named him for (ware o aisuru shura, “self-loving carnage”), I think too he was trying to relive that trauma out of confusion. 

we don’t have a lot of onscreen time with Gaara from this time. the number of onscreen deaths at his hand (4) don’t really paint a full picture, but i would argue that almost every person he killed was worth killing in some way or another. look at how he brushed off Naruto early on or Lee at the start of their match, I don’t think Gaara killed people who he felt didn’t matter. In the Forest of Death, he killed those three Ame shinobi because they had the scroll and because ultimately they were in the way of obtaining it, but also because the leader of that trio made it clear he thought he was stronger than Gaara. In the grand scheme of things they didn’t matter, but he had an objective--the scroll--and they were an obstacle, and ultimately it was a writing convention used to show that Gaara was dangerous. Obviously it’s hard to say for sure, but while I think that while Gaara was killing sort of haphazardly, seemingly without reason or care, that he ultimately always did care and there was always some logic in his own mind for the deaths. 

anyway, all this babbling is me leading back to my first point: Sasuke and Gaara share more trauma and mental health issues in common than is ever explored in the series. 

i think the moment that really for me is vital in this discussion is during the Five Kage Summit/Sasuke vs the Five Kage when Gaara and Sasuke come face to face for the first time since they were twelve. 

Gaara’s response is not to try to kill him or capture him, it’s to try and talk to him. It’s to try and relate to him. Because he does relate. He does empathize--obviously Gaara is missing a lot of pieces because he doesn’t know what’s happened or why Sasuke is attacking them. He doesn’t understand that Konoha and every other nation is at fault for so many wrongs in the world.

But he cares. He empathizes. He understands where Sasuke’s at, and I think in some ways he does see himself in Sasuke even though it’s been years since he, himself, reacted violently to the external world. I think he knows he could still be in that dark place, that it was but a moment from the universe that allowed him the chance to change. 

Sadly, I think Gaara, as a character, had the potential to be more than just another person to buy into a system of militaristic power, but it was wasted. He listened to Naruto, and he decided that he’d follow that same path; he’d forgive an entire village and the shinobi in it who went along with his abuse, he’d continue the system--like my own personal headcanons are that Gaara is far more radical and revolutionary than he’s presented in canon. I think that he made a choice when he was very young and inexperienced and still coming to grips with the life he’d led, the trauma he’d endured, and didn’t fully know what he was getting in to. 

But once he does, he works tirelessly to do right. Obviously for the first few years, especially before his death, he’s fighting against stigma and fear and is still really young--I don’t think he knows yet how to be the Kazekage fully or what radical thought really is. He has to work with the council and do his best to present as non-threatening as possible. Then after his death, I think he’s got a little more room to work with but not that much, and then the war happens a few years later. After the war, I think that’s when he really starts to get the chance to see Sasuke’s revolutionary and radical perspective on the shinobi world. 

So anyway, back on track... 

Gaara sheds a tear for Sasuke during that scene because they share so much in common. Gaara is a painfully empathetic character, but this is also because he does see himself in Sasuke. 

I think Sasuke would remember that. 

I don’t imagine that they can be friends until after the war, but I think that Sasuke does remember that moment; he doesn’t remember much of that day, running too high on more trauma and mental/emotional stress, having a breakdown, etc, but he does remember that moment. Gaara was the only one who didn’t want to kill Sasuke. He tried to reach Sasuke. 

So, Sasuke doesn’t go back to Konoha--which like good--he travels. 

He visits Suna. 

Gaara welcomes him. He doesn’t act scared, he doesn’t act weird or skittish. He’s not extra careful around Sasuke. He greets Sasuke as though they are friends which Sasuke is sure they never were, and he invites Sasuke to stay at the Kazekage estate instead of one of the hotels in the village or even the shinobi housing compound which does have a wing for visiting foreign shinobi. Nope. Garara invites him into his home, allows him to join him and his family for dinner--it is incredibly awkward because Temari and Kankurou do not have the same perspective on Sasuke, and maybe Shikamaru is visiting and feels even MORE awkward than the other Sand sibs. 

But Sasuke was welcomed. He was treated like a friend. 

Sasuke is not a character I’ve spent as much time thinking about and hcing, but I do tend to think of him as closed off, guarded. a man of few words because he just doesn’t feel safe divulging information about himself--whether it’s his feelings or his past or whatever. I also imagine that, after everything he’s been through, Sasuke hates being confused and he hates second guessing peoples’ intentions. 

He’s been used by so many people in his life, and I think Gaara’s kindness would read as a red flag to Sasuke instead of something genuine. 

But Sasuke isn’t afraid of Gaara. So he finds Gaara in his study, late that night after dinner, when everyone else is asleep, and he asks outright, “What do you want?” 

Gaara is confused as fuck. “What do you mean?” 

“What do you want from me?” 

Gaara probably gets that little crease between where his eyebrows should be. “I don’t understand.” 

“Why are you being so nice? I used to be a criminal.” 

Finally he understands. But Gaara isn’t exactly good with explaining his own emotions either, so it’s probably a difficult discussion. “You were a victim of your village, as much as I was once a victim of mine. I have no reason to be cruel or unkind, because I understand you, Uchiha Sasuke.” 

Sasuke doesn’t really know Gaara, so he doesn’t know if he can trust Gaara, but the words definitely strike a chord in him. Someone else understands him. Someone else empathizes with him. It’s enough. 

Sasuke leaves the next day for other lands. 

But whenever he’s near Suna, he stops by for a visit. 

Gaara always welcomes him. He’s always happy to see him in his own way. They talk sometimes about shinobi life in a hidden village, about Naruto’s progress on becoming Hokage (both of them feel like he’s got a lot of work to do), on political matters that Gaara should definitely not be talking to Sasuke about but that’s fine Sasuke won’t tell anyone. Sasuke shares some of his ideas, Gaara likes some of them. Sasuke’s perspective helps Gaara to acknowledge his own past and the horrors he endured thanks to his father and his village. He accepts that he doesn’t need to forgive the wrongs done to him. In turn, Sasuke finds that kindness can be as revolutionary as anger. He’s not as afraid to be vulnerable. 

Gaara’s the first person to know how Sasuke feels about Naruto. 

Gaara doesn’t really know much about romance, but he’s seen his villagers, his sister and Shikamaru, he’s even seen Kankurou once or twice smitten with a local girl but he was too afraid of commitment to pursue. He encourages Sasuke. 

“Naruto has fought for you for a long time,” he says. “From what I know of him, of his determination to bring you home... I would say he loves you.” 

Sasuke doesn’t tell Naruto that he and Gaara are friends. He still doesn’t really get it sometimes, he doesn’t always trust it especially when he hasn’t seen Gaara for a long time. But he always finds a reason to stop by Suna, he always finds time to stay at the Kazekage estate at least for a day to catch up with Gaara. 

I imagine they have a very quiet, soft sort of friendship. One built on mutual understanding and empathy, compassion and kindness, and unrelenting honesty. I imagine they grow close over the years of infrequent visits and political discussions and sometimes heavier discussions like their past traumas. 

[ravenstagtarot]

As a huge fan of both Will and Hannibal independently, as well as them together as an odd couple pair of sorts, I’ve found my interpretation of their relationship doesn’t always mesh with how others view them. While this is 100% fine, I thought I’d do a clarity reading for the nature of Will and Hannibal’s relationship to one another to see what the cards had to say.

As I began reading the cards, however, I found myself thinking mostly of Will, completing the reading from his perspective. So this ended up being a clarity spread about Will’s investment/perspective in/on his relationship with Hannibal as opposed to a reading about both of them.

Deck featured: The Wooden Tarot

Spread featured: The Wild Unknown “Clarity Spread”

In this spread, the card on top represents the overall situation while the bottom cards represent the contributing factors. 

Pulling the 7 of Bones (pentacles) for the overall situation is really, really interesting to me. The 7 of Bones is a generally a card about putting in the hard work so that you can sit pretty and reap the benefits of your labor when the time is right. It’s often seen as a card that speaks to sowing the seeds and stepping back--waiting for the right moment to harvest. Little Red Tarot also has a neat spin on this card, pointing out that this can also be about taking stock of how a project or situation has been evolving. Are things moving as expected? Does the path feel right? Should you continue as you have been, or do adjustments need to be made? 

Taking all of this into account, I feel this card is speaking to the in-flux nature of Will’s relationship with Hannibal. Choices have been made by Will--seeds of his love for Hannibal and his desire to be with him have been planted--and now he’s in the position of stepping back and watching them grow, trying to determine how he feels about the way they are developing. By the end of season three, we’ve found that Will has come to accept his feelings for Hannibal and the appeal of killing alongside him, but also that he cannot live with this acceptance. Understanding this part of himself is immediately followed, after all, by an attempt to destroy it. But given that we know Will and Hannibal survive the fall (since we’ve seen the place settings at the table with Bedelia) we know that now Will has to live with his choices (to love Hannibal, to want to destroy himself, his love, as well as Hannibal) and assess the direction he and Hannibal are now moving in post-fall. And personally, I think this is going to be a mental space that Will lives in for the rest of his life. What results will he harvest from his choice to stay alongside Hannibal? What consequences will he reap for his actions with and against the man he cares so deeply for? That’s the crux of the 7 of Bones for Will.

The contributing factors prove just as insightful. I drew the 8 of Plumes (swords), Death (ha!), and the 4 of Stones (wands). 

The 8 of Plumes is a card about feeling trapped, wounded. Responding to an overwhelming situation with fear and passivity. I like that in this deck, the card is represented by a quiver of arrows, with one of its own arrows piercing the quiver itself. This suggests the damage is self-inflicted. It reminds me of the Devil card--being bound by our own chains of anxiety, depression, or low self-esteem. Bakara Wintner points out that this can also come very directly from the experience of trauma. I think this is important to keep in mind when considering Will, given that he is a deeply traumatized individual (often by Hannibal). Will Graham has really been put through it. And, frankly, Will Graham has really put others through it, too. 

So, to me what this card speaks to is the influence that Will’s truamas have over his relationship with Hannibal. In relation to the 7 of Bones, I would argue that Will’s negative experiences with Hannibal are often why he must reassess his choice to be with him. We know a big concern of Will is distinguishing himself from Hannibal. “You and I have begun to blur,” Will tells Hannibal in “Dolce”. "Isn’t that how you found me?” asks Hannibal. To which Will replies, “Every crime of yours feels like one I am guilty of. Not just Abigail’s murder, every murder. Stretching backward and forward in time.” And certainly Will does not sound overly bereft in this scene, but I think generally speaking Will worries whether his desires come from his empathy disorder consuming him and blurring what he really wants, or whether his desires come truly from himself. This question is never greater than when it comes to Hannibal, who has been manipulating Will from the start. It’s hard to build long-term trust when the foundations are built on violence and dishonesty. 

I also think of Bedelia here, and Hannibal’s question to her in season 3, “Are you--at this very moment--observing or participating?” I personally think this exact question is one Hannibal could pose to Will at various points in the show, and likely beyond. Thus, the 8 of Plumes suggests to me that one of the reasons Will is perpetually considering his choices is because he is constantly stopping to ask himself (maybe unnecessarily at this point) “Am I observing or participating?” And perhaps he remains terrified of that answer. 

The next contributing factor is so fitting and self-explanatory I almost don’t feel the need to discuss it. The Death card. What this represents here is the core element of Will and Hannibal’s relationship: Change. Change, evolution, becoming, etc. Hannibal changes Will, Will changes Hannibal, they both almost die repeatedly in the process. When it comes to Will and Hanni, the Death card is literal as often as it’s metaphorical. And I think in a lot of ways Will’s biggest debt to Hannibal, what draws him so thoroughly to Hannibal, is what Hannibal brings out in him (and vice versa). I think the seeds of Death have been planted in Will and by Will, and at this point he’s rather interested in stepping back and watching to see if he flourishes. I think Will also lives with the knowledge that more change (and more death) is likely to come, and so it’s become part and parcel of his relationship with Hannibal. 

The final contributing factor I drew was the 4 of Stones (wands). I love this card in this spread, because it speaks to a lighter side of Will’s love for Hannibal. The 4 of Stones is one of those quintessential party cards, a card that stands for celebration, particularly after a lot of hard work. I’m going to refer to Bakara again, because she says something about this card that really resonates with this spread for me: “We’ve made something beautiful, and it’s time to gather the people we love and feel really fucking good about that.” Of course this makes me think of the seminal moment at the end of season three. “It really does look black in the moonlight. It’s beautiful.” Granted, Will’s idea of a party after this moment is to throw Hannibal and himself off a cliff, but, I like the idea that there are moments in their relationship where their mutual appreciation of each other and the life they’ve built together leads to a some good ol’ fashioned fun. I admit, I don’t exactly know what that looks like for the Murder Husbands, but I think the point is that whatever Will has chosen to grow, though there may be aspects of the harvest that feel rotten, there are also aspects that feel deeply satisfying. 

Maybe Will and Hannibal really do get married. Maybe they really do continue killing together. Maybe their 4 of Stones moment looks as simple as Hannibal cooking people for Will, and Will being at peace with the fact that he enjoys the food regardless. What matters is that there is joy in some aspects of their love for one another, and maybe that makes me a bad person for wanting that for them--at least on occasion--but...hey! I can be at peace with that too. 

In summary...I don’t think Will is ever going to be completely happy playing house with Hannibal. I don’t think he’s ever going to reach a place of ultimate fulfillment if he’s coupled with a murdering cannibal. The 7 of Bones speaks to being more in the middle of a journey than the end, suggesting that for Will, his feelings for Hannibal will be an ever-changing, never-settling thing. This is reinforced by our contributing factors--the fear Will feels about his own feelings, the amorphous nature of their love/relationship, and the joyous elements of the life Will has chosen to live with Hannibal. 

Sounds like a deliciously complicated mess! Sorry, I had to. You know how much this show loves bad puns.

Got any thoughts? Beg to differ with some of my interpretations? Want to ask for a Hannibal-related tarot reading yourself? Don’t hesitate to send me an ask--I’d love to talk more! 

[briannanags]

To add to the previous post:

• Your medical diagnosis cause so much chaos and uncertainty, you make yourself sad worrying about all the things you can’t change, you blind yourself with the what if’s and why nots that you don’t seem to realize that maybe those dreams, ideas or images for yourself and your future weren’t meant for you. It may not seem like it now but things happen as they should, and maybe, just maybe those fantasies you invisioned weren’t meant for you. Maybe your dream hasn’t even evolved yet, because truthfully you’re still getting to know YOU. “Someone has it worse”, is true but don’t belittle your own feelings to be kind to the universe, your cards are stacked against you. Life has thrown you loops and curveballs and hurricanes since you were a child, but you envy the “chaos”, it keeps you on your toes. Nothing in the future is concrete so don’t allow yourself to get so worked up that this or that isn’t going to happy. Nobody really knows. You were placed here to write your own story. And yours may be the never ending cliff hanger...and that’s okay. Because you have strength in your blood. And love in your soul. And the brain to obtain anything you set your mindset to. The universe handed you these cards...with no rhyme or reason..now arrange them however you please.

• Secondly, I kmow this one isn’t going to be easy to type, or read at a later time when weakness takes over...but it’s fine to come to terms with the truth. And the truth is, that wasn’t okay. You may say you know but deep down I don’t think we’re fully their yet because you continue to self harm, which is what made you think what he did to you for all those months was okay. You didn’t want to leave anymore marks on your precious skin, so letting someone else do it was your best compromise. You were in a low place, you needed help but the words found themselves stuck down deep. It’s scary. It’s so fucking scary because asking/admitting you need help means allowing someone on. It means reopening those closed chapters. It means reliving those feelings, heavy, that you’ve continued to carry around with you as daily reminds, creating a path to be mean to yourself. STOP. No more excuses. No more dodging the topic. No more swallowing those words you so desperately needed to scream out. You cannot move forward in your road to self care if you don’t release him, his hands, his knees, his pillow over your face, his pistol between your eyes, his words piercing every ounce of self love you had left. He didn’t love you, he loved the control he was able to have by over powering you and using your deep affection and care for him to his own benefit. He knew you were weak. He could mold you into whatever because at that time you accepting any form of love and affection that was thrown your way. You didn’t pick the wrong person per say. That person chose the wrong soul to try and destroy. He tried to demolish a woman who wanted true love so deeply, she’d sacrifice herself for those she believed she loved. Now let’s be honest Brianna, why did you do that? - the answer - because you knew how it felt to constantly feel unneeded, how it felt to withhold so much negativity that you burst out at those trying to lend a hand because you’re unsure of how to accept affection. I’m so sorry we didn’t work together to bring us back to reality, and to encourage our past self to run, the minute he laid a hand on you you should have run. It wasn’t love when he was threatening your life if he loved you he wouldn’t even be able to envision life without you. He tried to kill parts of himself through you, and you always made the joke that if he needed to release his emotions you’d be there to be his punching bag, but when did I turn from love and empathy, to living your life in constant anxiety. When is he coming home? Did I do this right? Is he going to be in a bad mood when he comes home? Is he going to be sober? Does he really love me? What do I do to deserve these beatings? Why me? If you’re so unhappy then why do you stay with me? Do you still think about it? Do those nights or days with fist fulls of my hair, blood on your clean socks, your switchblade dragging indentations along my arm as you held that gun to your mouth? Did you think of me? Or what I had previously gone through? Did you think I’d stay that long? Was it a relief the night you left? Do you feel better now?

All I can pray is that you grew up. I hope that one of those traumatizing days, with every punch you swung or personal belonging you destroyed, did it get better for you? Were you able to release those negativities that you’ve clearly been holding in for years? Did you realize who you were hurting? Did you realize it was the person who came to save you? Did you ever look back and wish you could do it again? Or are you satisfied living a life without a care in the world for the damage you left behind when you got bored and left me here to pick up the pieces alone? What if your words stuck, and I pulled the trigger one day before you got out of work? Would that have phased you then? Or would you continue the toxic, detrimental patterns you unleashed on me? What did that first connection with your fists feel like along my jawbone? Did you feel better? Were you hurting me to “hurt”‘yourself in some twisted manor? Are your parents proud of the “man” they raised so selfishlessly? Did you ever question why I never swung back? What happened that you suddenly turned and thought that those actions would fix anything?

I pray for you. Not all the time but occasionally. I pray, that you never make another beautiful woman feel so worthless, unlovable, fat, ugly, stupid, paranoid, anxious, depressed....the way you made me. I was an easy target but I’m thankful for the things you did, because now I am here. I am ALIVE. I am HEALING. I am living. I am laughing. I am taking the good with the bad. But lastly, through the nightmare I lived for over a year with you, I am now able to fully accept the absolutely genuine love and care I’m receiving now. I’m now able to speak openly about my pain. I’m able to express my emotions and know it will not fall on deaf ears and close minded, terrorizing, angry and sad excuse for a “man”. I am able to appreciate healthy relationships. And open lines of communication when it comes to my head and the battles I fight regularly, something I tried so hard to suppress that way I didn’t “overlpad you”, that way I didn’t “scare you”.

Ha! Never again...nobody is worth losing this light I have again over.

So lastly, thank you James Essig for erasing the messy slate I and those around me previously had created for myself and my life, my future and my abilities, and allowing me to start brand new. It took falling in love with a monster disguised as a nice guy, then being dragged to the darkest parts of heartache without giving me even a moment to scream out for safety, and then falling further to rock bottom by abusing any and all substances to numb the confusion and emptiness I felt after you left. I’ve seen heaven, it’s right in front of me every moment of every day. I fell, I broke and shattered, crumbled the pieces to oblivion...and then something happened that even shocked myself: I went and got myself help. I walked into that hospital completely unaware of what I was signing myself up for, but I’m forever grateful I did. So thank you. For taking my beauty and energy, burning and beating it to the ground, because now I’ve started rebuilding and the mosaics being made from those pieces are aligning to something so beautiful, something I deserve, something I portray out into the world but sometimes forget about myself; h o p e .

If for whatever reason you’re reading this, I hope you remember this is nothing else...you pushed me hard and far enough to want to change for myself, you didn’t ruin or get the best of me you made me realize that I am my own saving grace. I lost sight of my love for myself, and allowed you to make me think so small of myself, and that’s genuinely a shame. Cause I am a rare gem. I am deep rooted. I am understanding, accepting and everything except judge mental. I am strong and independent. I am full of smiles, laughs, jokes, kind meaningful words but especially love. I was going to give you every part of me unconditionally, and I’m so thankful you only took what you did from me...because your darkness never deserved my light. Your aggressive masculine need to be dominant never deserved my soul.

I wish you nothing but whatever the universe decides to allow you...and I hope with all of my being if I ever come upon you again, I’m able to say just this, “I’m sorry you’re so unable to accept positive relationships or simply happiness, contentment into your life, but I’m thankful you tore my world apart because now, when I look into his eyes, and his hands softly graze my cheek as he’s pushing my hair behind my ears, leaving reminders of his comfort, happiness and most importantly; unconditional love and affection for who I am, as I am with his kisses on my forehead reminding me so gently that I am cared for. I am appreciated. I am more than damaged goods. It gave me the opportunity to realize what I truly deserve, and how to accept genuine relationships into my life. You pulled the certain back and proved to me what I did not ever want to become, and who I probably would have eventually become if I continued down the destructive, harmful and hurtful path I was on. You gave me the opportunity to feel again, truly deeply feel. It’s overwhelming but I’d rather be on the edge with my best friend who’s so proud of the smallest daily tasks I’m able to complete because he knows that they can sometime be the most emotionally consuming for me, who’s smile lights up the same every time our eyes meet, who has built me a home within theirs that I’ve never felt so familiar with in a different human. I’ve finally began to search deeper for my purpose, because now I have a reason to live. And I mean LIVE, not just go through the motions like you are doing. Thank you for pushing me right into the arms of my guardian angel. I’ve waited so long to meet him, and now, I am ready to release all that has weighed me down. There’s no reason to continue carrying your emotionally draining baggage anymore. Thank you, and please, don’t ever come back.”

- words to myself during my healing journey

[spontaneoushiccups-blog]

Indulgent Divulgence?

*Language Warning*

This whole experience has been such an interesting human experiment. Aside from the obvious emotional roller coaster we have personally been through as a family- it’s been fascinating to watch other people react. This is the first, or I guess I should say the most, really serious life and death thing that has happened to me, to us. I have always been an extreme extrovert, shocking people with my language and opinions since basically I learned how to speak. As I have aged and the sometimes unobviously rigid parameters of propriety have burned me- I have learned when it’s better to just keep my mouth shut- though it often requires special occasion. (I’m certain some people who know me and read that have already balked. “When might that be?”) It took being 29 weeks pregnant to write my first blog post about what’s been happening, but I think a lot of that delay was the moving of the goal posts. It took a long time for us to really understand clearly what was happening. When it first became clear to us that something was really wrong and that we were looking at major health complications for the baby, my step-mom warned me that people would be weird. My twin half sisters were super preemies, so she had been through the NICU nightmare and saw firsthand how people twitched at the thought of a baby tangled up in tubes.

Babies are like these beacons of hope, these beautiful physical representations of the future, of promise, health, fertility, love, sex, procreation, LIFE. Anything else and it’s like a records being dragged backwards against the needle. It just seems unnatural. It ruins the music. And yet- anyone who has been down the road of miscarriage, infertility, poor prenatal diagnosis, and even regular old healthy pregnancy and childbirth and the debilitating fear that tends to go with it, knows that biology can be cruel, and she often is. It’s a darkness that once you’re privy to, you can’t unsee. I recently watched Boss Baby with my 4 year old and I thought of the cartoon mom, “that kid is 7 and they are just having their second? Ugh she probably had some kind of fertility issues. Poor thing.” Or now that I am the size of a large gestating mammalian creature, as I waddle unsubtly down the street, I notice sometimes women avert their gaze, cast their eyes downward like they don’t want to look directly at me and I think, “Oh no. I hope my giant belly isn’t bringing up awful feelings of some post traumatic pregnancy issue- maybe I should tell them it’s not perfect.” But I don’t.

I remember after going through a miscarriage last year being stunned at how painful it was compared to how painful I thought it would be (because every pregnant woman imagines in the long 12-14 weeks before you’re out of the “safe zone” what it might be like to lose the baby.) Based on movies and the general shushed untruth that tends to go hand in hand with all things intimately related to reproduction in general, I didn’t understand how primally shattering that would feel. Though maybe no one does until they do. Everyone would say “it’s just the loss of promise” but it was more than that. It was the first time my body, my inner voice, my sense of confidence in the nature of things- my BIOLOGY completely betrayed me. I remember someone said to me on the phone “this isn’t a tragedy.” I hung up on them. It took months for me to even think about getting pregnant again, and even then I had to plan it six months out to be sure I was ready. I made it a conscious, extroverted effort to not be ashamed of my pain or my experience. To talk as openly as I could about it, no matter how uncomfortable it seemed to make people feel. (You know, in relevant context- I didn’t exactly wear a “ask me about my miscarriage” t-shirt- but...it’s not TOTALLY out of the realm of possibility that I might. Also I live in Portland so.)

1 in 3 women will have a miscarriage. The more I talked about it- the more those stories floated to the surface, and every woman who told me theirs still had that saddness in their eyes, no matter how long it had been, or how far along they were. They call it “suffering a miscarriage” for a reason. In many ways I am grateful for having already learned, and not that long ago, that my sense of what nature should be could be wrong, that the floor can fall out. It's been helpful to know that before we started on this current path with Iris. Somehow, while all this has been obviously painful- it wasn’t as surprising.

Social Media is a funny thing for hyper-extroverts like myself because the self doubt and fear of scrutiny or thought of people I love being embarrassed on my behalf generally doesn’t sink in ‘til a few days after the post. Wait- I am brave for sharing? Does that imply that I am brave for telling people and putting it out there despite what everyone thinks? Oh god, what does everyone think? Oh no- am I exploiting this awful situation for the brief feel-good of a "like"? Or So-and-so didn’t “like” the post, or say anything to me about it. Are they ashamed of my post? Too intimate? Too far?

We had another echocardiogram last week and it was really the first time we got to leave that awful poorly-lit clinic not deflated, in tears. They told us her A/V Valves and Pulmonary arteries are looking strong and healthy, we got to see her sweet face up close, so clear now with her little turned up nose and plump lips, and weighing in at nearly 5lbs it’s looking like she should rival or beat her sisters 8+ lb birth weight. All. Excellent. Things. A huge part of this challenge has been this subconscious inability to picture the future. I think any pregnant woman feels that way to a certain extent, but with this I can barely think past March, much less to preschool, teendom, adulthood? The end of pregnancy is so physically challenging that I feel like the excitement of the promise of your baby that’s just-around-the-corner helps to cushion the blow of the wait and the discomfort. When you aren’t exactly thrilled about the scary impending chapter, you’re just left with sore hips, insomnia, and a baby sea otter lodging its skull into your pelvis at the same time it wiggles it’s little toes up underneath your ribs. The high of the positive doctors visit quickly gave way to it’s sharper edge. Now that it was so easy to picture our big fat beautiful baby, it was also easier to picture them taking her from me; prodding and poking her, opening her chest, sedating her, all of the violent details sinking in leaving me feeling gutted.

I am the head of marketing for Portland Gay Men’s Chorus and we are embarking on a huge year for the company. Beijing Queer Chorus is coming to Portland for their first public performance in the U.S. and PGMC is headed to China in September as the first LGBTQ Chorus to tour there, ever. It’s a big deal because China isn’t exactly up to speed on equal rights when it comes to the gay community, (many members of the BQC still perform wearing masks to protect their identities) and the parallels of where they are today, and where the U.S. was in its early years of the company in the 1980’s are glaring. We are making a video to highlight those parallels and the historic significance of this year for the chorus. So I woke up last Saturday morning and had to go into work downtown to meet with the filmmaker and do the first batch of interviews, despite feeling cloaked with sadness. I knew it would be good to take my mind off things and get out of the house.

Gary was the first up in the interview chair and immediately launched into the raw realities of what it was like to be a gay man in the 70’s and 80’s in America. The unflinching history of being threatened constantly with violence, taught by his mother to walk less gay, losing scores of friends-that-had-become-family to AIDS (in the midst of being blamed for the epidemic) and the constant fight against all odds, just to live authentically. Harvey Milk told them to come out- come out to everyone you know despite what consequences it may bare because to live authentically is the only way to be free. Then they shot and killed him. The founding members made the conscious decision to put “Gay” in the organization name, despite how uncomfortable it made so many feel, because that’s who they were, that was the message they were spreading, and it required that for them, in the name of authenticity, to be acknowledged for who and what they really were. After a lifetime, and generations of suffering from being locked in a closet- so many had to learn by society widdling them down- to just say fuck it, and be their true selves at whatever cost. Anything else is prison.

I am so lucky that I love my job. A huge part of that I think is that I so deeply appreciate an environment with little to no bullshit. I found myself watching Gary’s interview feeling relieved and affirmed. Doing something bigger than yourself is always important for perspective, but doing something in the name of authenticity is imperative to human growth. While I completely understand not everyone is as extroverted as I am, I am confident in the ways I have chosen to handle this. To not be scared to talk about it.To be upfront with my experience and my feelings, despite trepidation of what others might think. If only for the hope that someone else out there- living with their own raw and real life situations, feeling trapped in their own closets, wearing their own kinds of masks to shield themselves from what society might think or do, that they might take comfort in knowing they’re not alone, either.

5 weeks til she is born.

ps- I would be remiss not to link to this concert. I will be in UT in the hospital with Iris- but if you're in Portland you should really go. March 17 & 18, Kaul Auditorium at Reed College. https://www.pdxgmc.org/concerts-tickets/

[badspacebabies]

for the dvd commentary thing: Aware of His Own Halo, from "'Good morning, Armitage,' sing-songs the Twi’lek [...]" to "The rest of him will continue to pretend." (still obsessed with this fic!!)

thank you!! (Aware of His Own Halo can be found here on AO3)

“Good morning, Armitage,” sing-songs the Twi’lek from behind the bar. Young, blue-skinned, with some no-doubt deeply traumatic sexual slavery in her past, Armitage assumes, she worked the early cycles when the cantina sold coffee (mostly instant caf) and stimtea, spoke with a lilting childlike tone, and seemed to be the only person in the entire waystation backend that called him by his name, instead of the seemingly endless string of sarcastic, nonsensical military rankings.

One of the challenges of AOHOH was knowing that I had to populate the world of the Forks waystation with a cast of OCs that could speak to the immense dislocation and alienation that Hux felt living there: diversity, chaos, peripatetic lifestyles, self-serving ambition, etc—all these things are so foreign to his upbringing and chosen path in life, up until this point. The Twi’lek girl was an OC that was meant to embody some of the messiness, but also point to another completely alien concept to Hux—generosity, kindness, compassion, and all without any underlying motivation. 

The way she treats him is also a convenient expository hook—she doesn’t laugh in his face or assume his military rank is a joke, but through her presence and his hesitation about her, you can assume that Hux has endured mostly that kind of treatment so far, at the Forks. 

“You look like shit,” she says, with a wide smile, placing a steaming cup down on the bar in front of him. She pronounces it like she does not really know what it means.

“Yes,” he says. “I’ve seen.”

“I have put something in there for you, yes?”

She winks, and the scalding combination of caffeine and liquor slides down his throat; he can feel the itch of the tremors in his hands fading before they’ve even had time to completely send his day careening into the territory of one-hundred-percent bollocks-up.

In another time, he thinks, he might have attempted something approaching flirtation. She was always very kind to him, for some unfathomable reason (even if perhaps the reason was simply that she was very kind to every piece of cosmic dirt that sidled up to her bar and drooled enough credits into her palms for her to feel like she really was moving up in the world, now that she wasn’t being forced to take all manner of alien pricks into her blue cunt at all hours of the day). In another time, he thinks, he might have deigned to nod approvingly, silently, enough that she might know that he was pleased, but not too much to assume that they should speak, that they were equals.

Hux’s retaliatory response to her good character is complete mystification and avoidance/anger. He makes up a petty backstory for her, demeans her in his head, and refuses to ever learn her name (which is why it never appears in the story). She symbolizes something he is terrified of, inside himself, that he’s a truly lonely man who has never really learned how to accept the kindness of other people, and how to give it in return.

“Thank you,” he says. It feels hollow; strange and thick on his tongue. He stands, drains his cup, digs a hand into his pocket for whatever credits are left. (There are none, of course.)

“On the house,” she lilts, waving him off with a soft and graceful gesture. “I know you have been working very hard, lately. Although do not tell the others, yes? They will be jealous!”

There is a part of him that will immediately file this away, this moment—the moment when General Armitage B. Hux, the single hope of a dynastic spark, prodigy, accomplished strategist, galactic nightmare, was cowed into awkward, slump-shouldered shame, by the pity of a pretty whore.

The rest of him will continue to pretend.

I owe @reserve big-ups for the line “the pity of a pretty whore”—she was helping me work through this scene early on in my writing of it, and said something along those lines, and it really helped me click into something integral to the story, which is that Armitage Hux is meant to be a very sympathetic character in AOHOH, but he’s still definitely a fucking dick. He’s had some pretty bad shit happen to him in his childhood and since the end of TFA (things that maybe he didn’t fully deserve), but he’s still mean, spiteful, confused, and emotionally stunted. Finding moments to strike that balance was one of my favorite things about writing AOHOH, and I still really like this particular exchange because of it.

Thank you so much for asking about this scene!!

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Pick any passage of 500 words or less from any fanfic I’ve written, and stick that selection in my askbox—I’ll write you a little DVD commentary on that snippet!