#he has so many internal issues and trauma that he keeps ignoring and denying… by being charming/smiley jokey as a deflection

[whumpypepsigal]

Lockwood & Co. s01e05: “What the hell was that?… You were practically begging him to kill you.“

[redphlox]

Dabi's fear of feelings and connections

Dabi is a walking contradiction; he says he doesn't care about anyone, but his flames, which are linked to his emotions, demonstrate otherwise when Twice is killed. Dabi brushes off the news that Natsuo could have died because of him but still refers to him affectionately as Natsu-kun. Touya went around calling Endeavor out for neglecting his children but still trained to regain his approval and attention anyway. He lashed out at baby Shouto, admitted Shouto had done nothing wrong, and then attacked him again years later. He cries blood while thinking about his family but doesn't go home to them or change his actions which hurt them even more. Dabi wants to destroy hero society for a better future but it's obvious he doesn't plan to live long enough to see that future.

The gaps between his actions and his words are a result of dissociation and repression. It's not that Dabi is emotionless. Actually, he feels too much and he's afraid of his feelings because they've done nothing but hurt him emotionally and physically. He literally almost burned to death the one time he had a burst of emotion on Sekoto Peak and in order to prevent a repeat of that, he operates under the flawed notion that safety lies in repressing his feelings and pushing people away. He lies to himself and others and therefore cannot reconcile with his true self and can’t trust others.

In this meta I'll discuss how Dabi deals with his unprocessed feelings of betrayal and neglect by denying himself connections with both his inner wounded child and those around him. I'll also address a few misconceptions surrounding Dabi because dismantling them is key to understanding him. Contrary to popular belief, he does not want to kill his father, he never wanted to be a hero for his own sake, and he doesn't hate Shouto or his family. At its core, Touya's hurt stems from discovering that his relationship with his father wasn't based on unconditional love. This realization destroyed his sense of self so much it caused him to start fearing his own feelings and being close to others because of the link between his emotions and his self-destructive quirk.

To understand Dabi we have to understand Touya. In 291 we see through Endeavor's flashback that Touya was eager to train under him and carry his legacy. It's implied by the fact they’re working on ultimate moves that not only is Touya a willing, eager participant but that the two have been training together for quite some time. In 301 we learn that after Touya's quirk started hurting him Endeavor not only abandoned the training regime but also abandoned Touya both emotionally and physically. Instead of using the time he spent training Touya to help Touya find a new hobby or purpose in life, or just hanging out with his kid, Endeavor chooses to remove himself from Touya’s life. When Touya confronts him about the change of routine, Endeavor is seen putting on his jacket and leaving the home, his body turned away from his son.

Maybe Endeavor had errands to run, but my point is that he was in Touya’s life one minute and then gone the next. Touya says so himself: why did Endeavor change his mind all of a sudden? The abrupt change in attitude was jarring for a 4-5 year old to handle. To Touya, training = love, so he felt compelled to keep training and demonstrate his worthiness despite the fact that his quirk was hurting him. To Touya, the pain was worth it if it meant hanging out with his dad again.

But why? Well, Touya was Endeavor's #1 fan, genuinely so. His admiration and fondness for his father was genuine, and he didn't question the triumphant look on Endeavor's face when Touya said he wanted to learn the ultimate move. Before his quirk started burning him, Touya had no idea he was born for his father's ulterior motives. He had no reason to question his father's attention. Touya lived under the impression his bond with his dad was genuine and special, and he probably felt lucky that his father was willing to share something so important to him (heroism). Even after the training stops and Endeavor stops paying attention to Touya, Touya still wears his merch and vies for his attention. Most kids see their parents as larger than life and Touya was no exception. Keigo Takami admired Endeavor the hero, and Touya Todoroki admired his father who just so happened to be the hero Endeavor. Since being a hero was such a big deal for Endeavor, it was a big deal for Touya.

But that's where Touya's story becomes tragic. His father is a flawed, flawed man with many insecurities and fallacies that he pushes onto his family. I’ll get to those in a moment, but as intelligent and observant Touya is to catch on that Endeavor never set out to marry to become a father, he is too young to separate himself from his father’s expectations. Touya realizes he was born for a purpose and Touya will be damned if he doesn't fulfill that purpose even if he knows it's wrong. His father's ‘love’ meant that much to him. For Touya, it's not about becoming a hero for the glory. It was about his relationship with his father because, as I mentioned earlier, Touya was his #1 fan in the sense that he loved Enji just for being his dad. There were no conditions tied to that. “You are my dad, and I love you.”

But that wasn’t a sentiment that Touya felt in return, and that hurt Touya. He internalized he wasn't good enough, that something about him was inherently wrong. But more than that, his world came tumbling down - he felt betrayed and lied to: his father didn't love him like Touya needed him to, and this truth destroyed him. Their relationship was a lie, a farce, and it hurt so much Touya became obsessed with not hurting anymore because he couldn’t get away from it.

Touya’s motivation to become a hero didn't rise from being inspired by All Might like Shouto. Touya’s thought process wasn’t "I want to be a hero to help others or be like All Might" like Deku. No, Touya only wanted to be a hero because he wanted his father to be proud of him for surpassing All Might. Notice that Touya's obsession with beating All Might slowly diminishes from “I can surpass All Might” to “I can surpass All Might like Shouto, too” to just “look at me, Endeavor.” It was never about being a hero per say, but about his relationship with his father. Touya realized that Endeavor isn't his father first, but a hero, and he understands that he has to be a hero too to fit into his father's world. Even upon realizing that his father was using him, Touya still wanted to be part of his life, still wanted that bond. Touya, in his desperation to be loved and accepted again, could look past his father's selfishness as long as he regained that approval. Touya could pretend the relationship was real as long as he stopped feeling so unlovable.

This is unhealthy thinking, of course. Even if Touya somehow managed to regain Endeavor's approval, the relationship would still be one-sided and dissatisfying because he wouldn't be able to ignore the truth. But, this is how he rationalized his insistence to keep training in his 4-5 year old mind and this line of thought stuck with him as he grew up just as those feelings of inadequacy never left him.

This is precisely why Natsuo's drowsy "can't you go talk to our sister?" hurt so much. Touya was already emotionally fragile, and hearing that felt like being rejected all over again when it was actually Natsuo just trying to sleep. Touya was hypersensitive to any words or actions that could be interpreted as dismissive. His trauma wouldn't listen to logic that Natsuo was 8 and too young to understand, that he was tired - no, Touya's brain said, you're being rejected again! This is also why he also stormed away crying from Fuyumi after she expressed her concern for him.

In Touya’s mind, why couldn't anyone just agree with him that he was good enough? He heard "your dad's right and you're not good enough so why try" not "I care about you, your father is wrong, and I don't want you to keep getting hurt" whenever Rei tried to get him to stop training because that's the message he got from his father, too. Nevermind that it infuriated Touya that his mother could stand there and preach to him when, from his perspective, she couldn’t take her own advice. All Endeavor ever did was teach him to turn up the heat, so why should it matter that doing just so hurts him? Touya didn't understand NOT training his quirk because he had been taught that raising his firepower was ideal in all situations. Those two statements didn't make sense to a 4-5 year old, a 13 year old, and it still doesn’t make sense as a 24 year old.

To take Endeavor's lack of self awareness a step further, because it's important to understand Endeavor to fully understand Dabi, Endeavor has yet to realize his own inherent worth. He doesn't have to prove anything to his family, especially his kids. They love him unconditionally, without special reason aside from the fact that he's theirs and he's himself. However, Endeavor is so obsessed with proving himself that he doesn't realize he never had to, and he projects this onto his children. They must prove themselves by winning the genetic lottery, by being useful to his plans, by surpassing All Might.

The irony that to be a great father he doesn't have to be a hero at all is ugly because Endeavor has no identity outside of being a hero. Endeavor has said before he wants to be a good hero and father to make Shouto proud, but he fails to realize he already had this in Touya all those years ago and it still left him unsatisfied. The issue isn’t his role as a hero, it’s his inner self. In 301 Endeavor literally reaches out to Touya to talk him out of training and hurting himself, and Touya allows his father to touch his shoulders because he wants a bond with his father - any bond. Shouto, on the other hand, wouldn't allow Endeavor to touch him in 167 and slaps his hand away because he doesn’t want Endeavor’s approval. Endeavor doesn't realize Natsuo carries deep abandonment and neglect issues because he wanted to be accepted by his father too (light novel #5) but was ignored. Endeavor doesn't realize he was always good enough by default and that by projecting onto his kids and trying to be the top hero he’s doing the opposite of what he wants. He just keeps pushing away his family.

It’s important to point out Endeavor’s illogical thinking because Touya learned some of these same ideas. Touya repeatedly tries to prove himself without realizing that he was always good enough by default. The problem wasn’t his quirk or his body, but his father’s flawed thinking and self-worth issues. Now as an adult, Dabi is selfish because he's Endeavor's son and emobidies his most negative characteristics. Dabi thinks of his flames as Endeavor's, and he thinks of himself as an extension of Endeavor because that's how Endeavor set him up for life. Touya has no identity to fall back on after his father casts him aside. He was supposed to be Endeavor 2.0, but now that title is Shouto’s. Dabi doesn’t hate Shouto as a person, but he has tricked himself into believing Shouto is their father’s puppet. Shouto is a doll being used by their father with no self agency, and Dabi is going to break all of Endeavor’s toys. It’s nothing personal against Shouto, it’s just Shouto’s bad luck that he happens to be Endeavor’s masterpiece. This is why Dabi doesn’t hurt Shouto when they first meet at the training camp, and why Dabi stops attacking Shouto after Endeavor passes out - it’s not about Shouto. It’s about Endeavor, and breaking Endeavor. Touya is still there trying to be part of his father’s world, only this time not as a hero but as a villain who will end his own suffering. He doesn't want Endeavor to die, he just wants him to suffer, to ruin his dreams. Dabi thinks of it as justice.

But because Touya is still there, there is still that goodness in him, too. His connection to Fuyumi and Natsuo is still there, repressed and compartmentalized. It’s why he calls them affectionately as Fuyumi-chan and Natsu-kun. Touya’s pain is so great he has decided he’d rather end it than to carry on and look elsewhere. He's stuck, rightfully so. He recognizes his mother is a flawed person and ultimately doesn’t blame her for being a victim - she could have done more for her son, but he still sees her and his other siblings, even Shouto, as people who fell victim to Endeavor’s abuse who don't challenge their situation. Dabi sees himself as someone who does stand up to the abuse but doesn’t realize he still wants his father’s attention. He's always wanted it. That's why he went around at 13 condemning his father's treatment of his children but still trained to prove himself. This is part of the reason he became a villain.

Not to mention that Dabi literally can't cry. He has no way to release those emotions, so instead of trying to let them out, he pushes them down. But that doesn't work and is detrimental in the long run. In 290-294 we saw Dabi's flames burn so hot during his confrontation with Endeavor and revealing himself as Touya that his burns have spread. Dabi is afraid of his feelings because of their connection to his flames, but he also uses his feelings to his advantage. He wants to go out in an inferno along with Shouto just to hurt Endeavor and put an end to his own suffering and Endeavor's career. This is why Dabi doesn't bother calming himself down or denying that he never forgot how he was treated when he lived at home. Dabi became emotional in that battlefield, smiling maniacally instead of crying because he physically can't cry. In his mind, if his feelings are going to destroy him, he might as well use them to prove a point. After all, he has experience being used. It's why he was born.

I'm not saying any of these actions or thoughts are healthy or correct or condoned, by the way. Trauma responses don't make logical sense and usually aren't healthy. Knowing how the mind responds to trauma, it's understandable that Touya still wanted his father's attention even if it was abusive. In fact, this is how children often respond to abuse. Their caretaker/parent is all they know and they cling to these figures. Often times when authorities try to remove a child from their abusive parents, the child doesn't want to go because this parent is all they know and they do feel like they love their parent/caretaker. I’m not saying the authorities got involved in this case, because obviously they didn’t, but this same mentality of abused children can be applied to Touya. Touya, in his four year old mind, probably convinced himself that if he was good enough everything would go back to how it used to be.

So, to sum up Dabi’s character, of course he doesn't make any sense. He’s still that hurt 4-5 year old who is trying to protect himself from ever getting hurt like that again while still wanting his father’s validation. Of course he doesn’t want to get close to anyone, not even the League. He doesn't want to be vulnerable or let people in or form connections because the last time that happened he was let down, forsaken, and it hurt so much it literally made him lose control of his quirk to the point he almost died. When Twice is killed, Dabi consoles himself by saying he didn't care anyway, all to prevent another emotional fire. Dabi is a master of compartmentalizing and boxing away his feelings - this is probably why, 310 chapters into BNHA, we have yet to have a few chapters in his POV or his backstory. He's disconnected from himself. He knows his plot to get justice will hurt his siblings and mother and to live with himself and move forward he represses those feelings.

Because of his father not showing up on Sekoto peak, Dabi has to live with physical disabilities due to his scars and memories of burning alive. He doesn't want to go through that again so he lies to himself that he doesn't care about anyone or anything. He denies that he's still in pain while simultaneously seeking validation of his pain. He acts like he doesn't care about his family but still calls them affectionate names. He acts like he hates Endeavor and calls him by his name but still wants his attention. He decided long ago that he would die destroying Endeavor's career because that was the thing Endeavor cares about most of all in this life. It's a "you hurt me so I'll hurt you" mentality. He has tricked himself into thinking this is justice, failing to realize this won't make him feel better if he doesn't die by his own hand along the way.

Dabi is full of resentment and spite, both of which take root from feelings of abandonment, betrayal, and the loss of a purpose and the realization that he wasn't born to be loved for who he was but as a tool for his father. The first betrayal he suffered was in the form of realizing his father didn't love him genuinely, and this was identity-breaking for him. He never recovered from it. The second betrayal, the reinforcer, was his father not showing up to Sekoto Peak. Since then, Dabi is reliving his trauma over and over again the more he uses his quirk and the more he faces Endeavor. To be saved, Dabi needs to accept that he is loved unconditionally and needs to be validated that he was right to feel thrown aside and used.

[reynesofcastamere]

Jagged Crowns(1/2)[β]

(A/N: I had a bit of an internal debate as to whether I should keep writing while...Well, some parts of our world are in a rapid spiral towards a fascist dystopian nightmare due to centuries of institutionalized racism, ignorance, and hair-trigger violence, among other things. I understand that I will never fully comprehend what POC have suffered, because the system has been rigged in my favour since before I was born. There is much and more that can and has been said on the subject, but to summarize: It is not my intention to further harmful ideas/depictions or to hurt people via this self-indulgent outlet. If I have done so(and not given appropriate warnings), please do not hesitate to inform me so that I may correct this. That said, warnings for: gore, violence, death, intrusive thoughts, mental breakdown/hallucinations, and suicidal ideation. The prompt for this was ‘Ahsoka helping Maul through his own struggles, since he’s pretty much on the verge of insanity at all times.’ Unbeta’d.)

In the end, there is no need for a chosen one. No bright, wide-eyed youth to take up a burning sword and the incalculable burden of ridding the galaxy of an oppressive evil. The reality turns out to be less of a legend and more of a horror story.

The Royal Palace is littered with the dead and dying, but there is only one that matters. Sidious is still immensely powerful, but his body has grown old and slow, and there are only so many guards he can sacrifice to protect himself. Overcoming his Force lightning, preventing bones and organs from being crushed, protecting their minds from invasion and violation: That is much harder. But finally, finally Maul strikes off the Emperor’s head as Ahsoka’s twin ‘sabres pierce his shriveled, black heart. She steps back. He keeps going, slicing and hacking until the throne is in pieces, the floor is a cross-hatch of burning lines, and what was once an Emperor is nothing more than a pile of charred meat and cloth.

“Is this...Am I free? No, this was too easy. Master always has a contingency plan.” He does not even realize he is voicing these thoughts, too occupied with searching the Force for something, any trace of Sidious’s presence. Foolish child. You thought you could defeat ME? I know your every pitiful thought, every scheme you concocted while you wriggled, a blind maggot encased in filth. “Be silent.” Maul snarls, fingertips coiled around his anterior horns, palms pressed into his eyelids. “Focus. Focus. Search for him, he cannot hide from us.” There is another voice, outside his head, but he cannot hear it. He has to know. Yet despite the venomous hiss that tries to steal away his concentration, there is...nothing. The Dark Side is empty of even the barest wisp of his Master. “Gone. Gone at last. Finally I have achieved Bane’s will...” He laughs, long and erratically pitched. Not a comforting sound, or even a sane one. Wait. There is something. He uncovers his eyes and re-opens them. Someone before him, unlit ‘sabres in hand. Another rival apprentice. Another test. “Have I not done enough to prove myself?” Maul whispers, disbelieving and enraged all at once. No. You must destroy all who would stand in your way if you wish to claim my power. Prove that you are worthy and strike them down! “Yes, my Master.” He had dropped his sabrestaff before -careless, stupid, he could have been killed-, but it leaps eagerly into his hand and activates as he begins his assault. He cannot seem to get a clear picture of his opponent, their form shadowed and not entirely solid around the edges. He sees their weapons clearly enough, though, especially when they clash with his own. His rival is on the defensive, parrying his strikes but not counterattacking. He cannot hear their words past the blood rushing in his ears, infuriated by this insult. Is he so weak that they do not even think him worth the effort of assaulting?! Maul drives them back, seeking to disarm, to maim, to kill, but he cannot connect. He resorts to yanking their legs out from under them with the Force, lips curled in a feral snarl as he raises his sabrestaff for the final blow...Then the Light bursts into his mind with the force of a battering ram, and he can feel-These thoughts, this presence, he knows it-Mine, this warmth is mine, cast from the star forever out of my reach. Ahsoka Tano looks up at him, eyes wide from exertion and fear. “Maul. Please, stop.” His legs give out from under him, weapon deactivated and slipping from his suddenly-nerveless fingers. He does not know how long it takes for her to come to him. Seconds, or perhaps years, her hands circling his face as their lips meet. He pulls her close, fervent and desperate in his passion. Yes. This is fitting. One last time, before the end. “You must kill me.” A whisper when they part for air, watching her blink in confusion. “What are you talking about?” “I have never fought for your hope of a restored Republic. You know this. You have prepared for it. Sidious is dead and I will inevitably take control of his Empire. Unless you stop me.” “I don’t have to murder you to accomplish that.” “Ah, so you are content to truss me up like a rabid animal and let your superiors toss me in a cage or cut off my head. How noble.” “No.” “Why? Because you believe that they will not take the opportunity to rid themselves of a long-standing nuisance? Or that they will simply leave me in peace because our goals aligned temporarily?” He summons her shoto to his right hand, snarling in frustration as he presses it to her left. “You are neither sentimental or naive, Ahsoka Tano. Do not hesitate.” For a moment, it seems as if she will go through with it. As if white light and the deep blue of her eyes will be the last things he sees. It is not the nature of the Sith, to surrender to death’s embrace so readily. But Maul has...never been a true Sith, and he is so very tired. The voices in his head are blessedly silent, yet it is only a temporary reprieve. Without purpose, without vengeance or ambition, he will lose himself again. “Stop running, Maul.” Her voice is firm, and oh, she burns bright enough to blind him, but he cannot tear his eyes away. Ahsoka takes her weapon from him, sets it down, and entwines their fingers instead. “You’re right. I know who you are and what you can do. I also know you’re capable of more than that.” He cannot breathe. What has she done, to make him feel this way? That there might be hope of being...something other than this? “Did you really think I didn’t notice all these years? The small acts of compassion and honour...Palpatine didn’t rip those away from you.” She is so warm, so willing to offer up these things he has blatantly denied himself and others. “A foolish dream.” Maul rebuts, but there is no real strength behind it. His left arm holds her more tightly, both for emotional and practical purposes. He is not certain how much longer he can remain even partially upright. “It doesn’t have to be. Join me.” Ahsoka offers. “There’s still Vader, Thrawn, and a whole mess of other Imperials to defeat or force surrender from. But after...We can try to build something of our own.” Her right thumb lightly brushes over his cheek. “Won’t be easy, but it’s a chance for both of us to try something different.” “You will regret this decision. Soon.” He points out dryly. There is only so much optimism he is willing to endure, even in this state. She only laughs. “And you haven’t driven me insane. Yet. I don’t expect either one of us to be perfect at this from the start. Just to try.” Her hand curves down and around, lightly dragging her nails up his nape and eliciting a low rumble from him. “Aren’t you going to give me your answer?” Her smile cements the fact that she is utterly devious beneath her relatively-harmless exterior and he will get her back for this later. “You. Are an unrepentant tease. And I will greatly enjoy administering your punishment.” He growls, both impressed and frustrated by her manipulation. “But I am willing to see whether this insane notion of yours will work.” His agreement brings a smile from her, but not before she rolls her eyes and gives a small, exasperated exhale. “‘Yes’ would have worked fine, you know.” “And since when have I ever passed up the opportunity to frustrate you, my Lady?” “Ass. Mmmmph...”

“Care to rephrase that?”

“No. You are the worst. But I might be persuaded to change my opinion.”

“Let us see if I am up to the challenge, then.”

This is merely the beginning of a very long, hard road. Yet neither one of them will walk it alone, and that makes all the difference.

(A/N:Things I didn’t include in the top note because it was getting a bit wordy: This is set around 5-ish BBY, so Thrawn isn’t a Grand Admiral yet, only an Admiral(or possibly Commander, depending on when his promotion happened). Obviously certain canon events didn’t happen (ie Malachor), and Maul and Ahsoka have been in a sort-of relationship for about a decade at this point. Also, sorry, they didn’t have sex in the throne room. Just makeouts and soul-searching. This is absolutely a starting point. Neither character is ‘cured’ of their various issues/traumas by the end of this installment even if they are being semi-cute and flirty. This is...not what I would consider a realistic way to handle someone being triggered/having a delusional episode, but I digress. *notices that fics that have started with gore or violent imagery have mostly ended in fluff* -_-....Hm...Well, that’s a pattern. Or possibly a problem. Cheers, everyone!) 

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part seven) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±6650 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part seven: While Dean makes a tough decision regarding who has to leave the ranch, Y/N finds it more and more difficult to keep her feelings in check.  Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Thin Line - honeyhoney (bar scene), Ride to Death - Carter Burwell (evening ride scene), Wonderwall - Ryan Adams (scene under the Joshua tree). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas. 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     Dean pulls his head out of the refrigerator with six bottles of Corona hooked between his fingers. After he straightens his back, he pops off the cap with an opener, repeating the action until all bottles are opened. He’s about to break out the whiskey for his uncle, when the ranch owner hobbles towards the bar. The wrangler doesn’t really register him, though, because as his hands work swiftly, he watches his crew. The group of young men and women laugh over a - without a doubt - exaggerated story told by Benny, as they down the first round of the evening. It's Friday and the night is still young. With a day off in foresight, the workers allow themselves to enjoy the evening to the fullest. Dean will go easy on the alcohol, he has the early shift tomorrow.      Amongst the group of staff, there is one person in particular who brings a smile to his face. Y/N’s laughter carries through the saloon, mixing with the country music that comes from the jukebox. It’s a great sound, one that causes the corners of his mouth to creep up. Jo and Ash are teaching her how to play poker and so far she’s terrible at it, but that doesn't seem to matter. She’s having tons of fun and gets along great with the others. Still wearing a smile, Dean glances down when he pours the amber liquor into the whiskey glass, sets it down on the bar after which he slides it towards Bobby. As if he knows who is on the wrangler's mind, he glances over at the intern as well.      “So how’s our ‘wannabe cowgirl’ doing?” the ranch owner wonders.

     A chuckle rumbles deep down Dean’s throat. He remembers calling her that when he shared his concerns with Bobby on the night of her arrival.      “She survived the first week,” he admits. “Y/N’s a good fit. Still has a lot to learn, but she works hard and she’s smart.”     “So, what you're sayin’ is that the intern isn't a total disaster like you predicted?” Bobby continues, his brow raised.      “You just wanna hear me say you were right, don't ya?” Dean returns, amused either way.      Bobby’s face shows a glimpse of a smile while nursing the tumbler of whiskey.       “Maybe.”      The young man shakes his head grinning as he takes a swig from his Corona. “What I'm sayin’ is that you got lucky. You know this could have gone south,” he returns, not giving his uncle the satisfaction.      “It could have,” the ranch owner admits. “But I had to get creative; talking about things going south.”

     The tone of the conversation changes instantly, leaving a heavy silence. Smiles die, their heads dip down, and gone is the pleasant Friday night feel. Dean is fully aware of where this conversation is heading towards. The issue has been bothering him for an entire week now. He has to decide who of his men to let go      “Have you made up your mind yet?” Bobby asks his right hand.      Dean nods, letting a sigh slip from his lips. He feels like he’s about to snitch on a friend. But this is business, it's what's necessary for the ranch to survive. It’s not personal, and yet it is, because it’s pulling on his heartstrings when he pronounces the name.      “Ash.” 

     Dean’s eyes land on the group at the long table again. The Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie from Kentucky with tattoos on his arms and the wind in his hair is the one who has to go. It wasn't an easy decision, but it was the logical one. With the livestock reducing to only sixty cows and their calves, he will not have enough work to fill his day. What also weighs in, that Ash was hired last. Nevertheless, Gold Canyon is his home and he is a part of this family. He watches the guy, how he points out the pair of jacks in the open card game they are playing to teach the intern Texas Hold’em. The genuine smirk on his face is followed by a backhand down five when she wins. Poor dude, he has no idea what he’s about to lose.      “I’ll break it to him after the weekend.”      The voice of the old man, who seems to have aged during their chat, is sad and burdened. It's clear as a bell that laying off Ash is the last thing he wants for the bull rider, who he took under his wing half a decade ago. It’s a position Dean doesn't want his uncle in; the troubled ranch owner has enough on his plate as it is.      “I’ll do it,” he offers.      “Nah, I got this one, son,” Bobby says, reassuring him as he reaches across the bar to put a hand on his shoulder. “Join‘em, make the most of tonight.”      His nephew nods while picking up the drunks, and heads for the table, after glancing at Bobby Singer another time. Dean swallows down the guilt and worry before he takes a seat, leaving his company oblivious to the dark clouds that are gathering above them.       “So, how's it going? Do I have a new competitor yet?” he asks both Ash and Y/N while he gives out the beers.      “I'm getting the hang of it,” she returns confidently, picking up the two cards Garth just dealt.      Dean watches the young woman without her noticing, too focused on the game. Ash observes every action over the shoulder of his apprentice without helping her this time and is proud when she wins once again with three eights.      “Beginners luck,” Jo scoffs, pushing the pot in her friend’s direction.      “Keep telling yourself that.” Y/N grins at the blonde from across the table.

     It’s Jo’s turn to shuffle when a group enters. Distracted by the squeaking sound of the double doors, Y/N looks up, noticing that Casey is amongst the guests. Ignoring the heavy feeling in her chest, she directs her eyes back to the cards, the bright smile on her lips toned down. Expecting Dean to have his eyes on his probable fix for tonight, her gaze wanders. He noticed the pretty brunette, but it’s not Casey he’s looking at. As Y/N glances over, so does he, and they both seem to feel caught for busting each other. She cannot help but wonder why he would be checking on her, though. Was he curious about her response?       “Hey, handsome.”      Dean smiles up at Casey, who positions herself behind his chair, laying her delicate hands on his shoulders as she kisses him on the cheek. He forces himself to come off as sincere, but there’s an anchor restraining him.      “Hey,” he responds. “Had a nice ride?”      “I did. Would have been better if you were there,” she flirts.

     The game continues, but Jo doesn't deal for him, assuming that the two are going to leave for the bunkhouse anyway, like they usually do whenever Casey is here. After giving out the cards, the ranch owner's daughter peeks up from her hand, noticing her friend, who tries to mask the annoyance and disappointment to what is happening on the other end of the table. When she looks up, Jo’s brown eyes lock on hers as she lifts her chin shortly, the mimic asking if her friend is okay. Y/N nods and fakes a smile, but loses this game anyway.

     “Hey, you wanna get outta here? To have another sort of ride,” Casey whispers in Dean’s ear as she leans in.      He gulps down his beer and sets down the bottle. Her offer should sound tempting, then why isn't he intrigued? Instinctively, his eyes slip over to Y/N again. She seems to be concentrated on the game of poker, but she’s not at ease like she was a minute ago. This time she doesn't grant him any recognition of his existence.      “I - uh…” he starts, brought back to the conversation when Casey softly massages his tense shoulder muscles. “I had a busy week and I have to work tomorrow, so I'm gonna hit the hay early.”      “I can come along and help you relax,” she presses, now wrapping her arms around his neck.

     Y/N picks up on Casey’s offer and grinds her teeth. Suddenly she’s angry with herself. How could she be so stupid to let herself get swooned off her cowboy boots by that scumbag ? Sure, she fought it, she denied it, but at the same time, she found hope in every smile he threw at her, in his flirts and compliments. How could you possibly think for even one short second that he only has eyes for you?! What makes you so special?  

     When Y/N loses to Benny again, she glances at her watch. Ten past nine; it's not too late to train with Meadow. She was reluctant to leave the fun a moment ago, but now leaving the Saloon seems like the best idea she has had all week. Y/N gets up, attracting confused looks from the company.      “You're leaving?” Jo assumes.      “Yeah, I still have to train Meadow,” Y/N excuses.      “You're gonna ride now ?” Dean responds, perplexed. “We were just having fun.”      “No one ever improved their skills by getting plastered and by just having fun, Dean,” she responds, his name coming out with a sneer. “If you want to own it, you've got to work for it.”

     The cowgirl gets up and pushes the chair back under the table, the sound of its legs scratching the wooden floor breaking the silence. As she turns around to leave, her eyes meet Jo’s, who has a ‘you tell’im, girl!’ grin on her face. The doors flap after she walks through them, and the men at the table chuckle.      “She's a diehard, that’s for sure,” Ash says.       “Yeah...” Dean acknowledges, confused. “She is."

     He watches her go for a few more seconds, determined strides, frustration in the sound of her footsteps. What the hell was that all about? For someone who claims to be strictly business, she turned pretty defensive when Casey got a little clingy. Oh, he caught the true meaning behind her words, alright. Is she really implying that if he wants her, he has to step up his game? If that’s the case, this might actually be a good thing. Yes, she’s annoyed with him right now, but this could mean he has an actual shot.      “So, what do you say?” Casey asks again, pressing a seducing kiss in his neck.      He glances up at the gorgeous young woman. She is pretty, wavy brown hair frames her flawless face, some freckles sprinkled on her nose and cheeks. Under that blue blouse and bootcut jeans, there is the body of a pinup girl. One who knows how to get a man’s engine running, which he had the pleasure of experiencing more than once. Dark, lustful eyes tell him all about what she has in store for him once she gets him alone. Yet for the first time, he’s not interested.      “I'm gonna have to pass,” Dean decides.      Somewhat stunned, Casey keeps a hold of the wrangler’s gaze, giving him a second to reconsider. When he doesn't, she creates a little distance and straightens her back.      “Alright then,” she huffs. “Your loss.”      The brunette strides away towards the bar, leaving the poker players in awkward silence. Ash and Garth follow the gorgeous beauty with their eyes, then simultaneously turn their heads to look at Dean, perplexed.      “Dude, did you just piss off two women in one minute? That's impressive, even for you,” Ash comments.      Jo snorts, her beer almost coming from her nose. Dean glares at her.      “What?” she counters. “You just turned down a female specimen of the human race. We should call 12 News.”      “Are you done?” Dean replies, agitated.      Before Jo can throw in another cocky counter, Benny lays down a flush and gets up as he clears his throat.      “If you kids will excuse me. I've got a fish to reel in. Keep the change."      He winks at Dean, who nods back at his friend as a sign of consent. The head wrangler held his part of the agreement, and Benny is going to take full advantage of that. He watches how the farrier settles down on the barstool next to Casey, complimenting the beautiful girl with his irresistible accent, after which he offers her a drink.       “That slick Southern bastard, he’s going to have her in his bed before she knows it,” Ash says, eying at the pair with an impressed look on his face, but then he rises from his seat. “How about some pool, y’all?”      Garth gets up to follow him, but Dean declines.      “I'll be right up,” Jo promises.      When the guys move over, Jo corners her cousin. She gets up, walks around the long table and feels his forehead.      “Jo, don't be ridiculous.” He smacks her hand away. “I'm not sick.”      “Then what the hell is going on with you?” she asks, confronting. “Casey is your usual set of hooters to honk. Since when do you just turn that down?”      “Since now,” the head wrangler answers shortly.      “Why?”      The head wrangler sighs annoyed. “Because I got bored.”       “Because your eye caught something shinier,” Jo corrects. “Dean, Y/N is off limits.”      “Says who?!” he argues.      “Says me!”      “You can't tell me who I can or can't--”      “- fuck and dump when you're done with her?" his little cousin interveans. "Yeah, I can! She's my friend, damn it!”      “Your friend?” Dean scoffs, fighting with Jo as siblings would. “You barely know her. This is her fifth day!”      “Since when is there a mandatory minimum time on friendship?” she cries out. “I care about her and you know just as well as I do that she’s gonna end up with the trash like Casey.”       Dean shrugs, finding her arguments invalid. “Casey doesn’t give a shit.”       “But Y/N will,” Jo brings to mind. “You will leave her a heartbroken mess when you’re done with her. She’ll go home cryin’ and you know damn well we’re gonna need her.”      That comment triggers Dean to furrow his brow. Being the daughter of the owner has its perks. Apparently, she’s aware of the financial problems that are threatening the company.      “How much do you know?” Dean questions with a lowered voice.      “I know there's gonna be a layoff and that we are gonna need all the free help we can get,” Jo states, whispering.      The head wrangler sighs, checking on his crew at the pool table. His eyes linger when he spots Ash, who pockets number thirteen and repositions himself behind the white ball for his next turn.      “Dean, you can't afford to screw around,” his cousin adds.      I’m not screwing around, is on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps his mouth shut. He’s not going to let his cousin in on something he doesn’t understand himself.      “She's not going anywhere, I'll make sure of that,” Dean assures, calmer than a moment ago.      “She better not, ‘cause if she does, that’s gonna be on you.”      With those words, the youngest Singer gets up and heads for the pool table as well. Dean watches her, staying behind with only his beer for company. Burdened, he drops his head, his jaw tensing. Great. One of his good friends is going to get fired next week, he doesn't feel like blowing off steam with Casey, and Jo won't even allow him to be with the girl he’s after. Not that she's falling for his usual tricks, anyway. Just fucking great.       With a sigh he downs his beer, which lost its spark, causing him to make a face at the bland taste. Then he gets up and exits the Saloon. Leaving the muffled sounds of music, conversation, and laughter behind, he slouches down the porch. The evenings are pleasantly warm, now that the monsoon season is reaching the home stretch. The night sky is so clear, that a thick ribbon of stars meanders across, the absence of light pollution allowing the Milky Way to shine brightly.       Going over tonight’s decisions once again, Dean heads towards the bunkhouse, when two individuals catch his eye. About a hundred yards ahead, Benny has his arm around Casey as they stroll up to the front door. Before he opens it, she tiptoes when the farrier turns towards her, meeting him in a hot kiss.       “Benny, you sly dog,” Dean grins.      Surely, he grants his friend the home run, but a part of him thinks of passing up Casey as a loss, now that he will be left empty-handed. The early night isn't going to happen either, since Benny’s room is next to his. He halts as the two enter the bunkhouse, passionately making out, then he breathes out a humid cloud of air. No way in hell he is going to listen to those two banging their heads against the backboard for the rest of the evening. Dean turns around, considering to head back to the Saloon, but then he notices the lighted outdoor arena. He almost forgot; Y/N is still at the barn. Maybe this evening does not have to be a total loss after all. Jo’s voice whales in the back of his mind, but it doesn't stop him from heading over. He’s just going to have a talk to clear the air, no harm in that, right?      Under the stars, he strolls towards the outdoor arena, listening to the crickets which chirp loudly in the dry grass. The two lanterns spread brightness over the otherwise dark and deserted lands, creating long shadows on the ground where the fencing blocks the rays. A horse moves steadily on a large circle, relaxed and in harmony with her rider. Y/N has not noticed Dean yet, too concentrated to pick up on the spectator. There is a peacefulness in the air that distracts him from the troubles on his mind. The coolness of the night causes Meadow to breathe out warm clouds with every third beat of the gait, leaving a misty trail behind her, like a steam train puffing out clouds rhythmically. The silhouette of horse and rider passes by the fence every time they come between the wrangler and the light is as if he’s watching an eclipse. It brings a smile to the cowboy’s face. Bobby was right; Y/N is talented.

     Slowly, he strolls up to the gate, moving into the yellow rays coming from the high masts. This time she does notice him and eyes the head wrangler, perplexed. He is the last person she expected to see here at this hour, especially since Casey couldn't wait to drag him away to do all kinds of dirty things to him.      “H - hey,” she stammers, half surprised, half confused.      “How is she doing?” he wonders while nodding at the horse, more to get the conversation going.       Suddenly self-conscious about every move she makes, Y/N sits back slightly and lets her mare transition to an easy walk, loosening the reins and petting her on the shoulder with her free hand.      “She’s good, a little fresh,” she responds. “I didn't expect you here.”      “I was on my way to the bunkhouse, saw the lights,” Dean explains casually.      The rider barely smiles at that, still unsure how to behave around him after the way she left the Saloon thirty minutes ago. An awkward silence follows and she decides to continue her training to keep busy. With a forward motion of the hand and a small aid with the legs, Meadow swiftly pushes into a lope, head down and light on the bit, as she should be. The muscles of the well-developed Quarter horse roll under her shiny coat with every stride, flexing and relaxing again. It might look like child’s play, and yet Y/N was less nervous for the Nationals last year than she is now. She can feel Dean’s eyes on her, watching every move closely.       As he does, the wrangler climbs the steel fence, hooking his heels behind the middle bar and resting the palm of his hands on the top one for balance. Intrigued, he observes the training, reading into her skills. Now that she’s aware of him, her riding seems a little stiffer than it was before. Is she actually nervous now that he's here? His presumption is confirmed when she turns in the other direction halfway in a circle through a flying change. Her timing is far from perfect and the horse changes from a left to a right lope a stride too late, unable to translate the aid into an action before the perfect moment mid-stride. Despite the mistake, Y/N tussles Meadow’s manes. For a second Dean wonders if it’s because she didn't recognize the timing being off, but then she performs the exercise again, nailing it this time. Dean smiles at that, content with her method of training. Meadow did exactly what her rider inquired of her, it was the rider who inquired wrong. Where plenty would have corrected the horse or even punished it, Y/N didn't, because she was very much aware that it was a human error. After only a couple of minutes, he has a pretty good idea what kind of rider she is. Truly feeling what happens under the saddle is something most people will never get down. It’s almost like an extra sense, a skill only so many equestrians have. Y/N is one of those gifted equestrians. How she handled that communication error, is what separates horse riding from horsemanship.       Satisfied, Y/N uses her seat to bring Meadow back to an easy walk, after which Y/N lets her move around freely; the mare is done for today. Now that her horse doesn't require her full attention any more, she is forced to deal with the handsome yet overbearing spectator. Why on earth is he even here? Isn't he supposed to be getting laid right now? Oh yes, seeing him with Casey rubbed her the wrong way. She’s fully aware of that fact, and he probably is too. Should she have let him push her buttons like that? No. Was it his intention to mess her up? Probably not. Was she overreacting when she barked at him back at the Saloon? Maybe a little.       “Feel better now?” he asks out of the blue.      Y/N furrows her brow, glancing over when she rides by his spot on the fence, trying to sense in which direction he is going. “What do you mean?”      Dean shrugs, dropping his gaze to the sand for a moment. “For me, a good ride usually works as a stress reliever, and you seemed on edge earlier.”      As the rider cools down Meadow by walking her on a free rein, she considers her options carefully before she speaks. Darn, so he did notice. Then again, the sneer she fired at him was hard to miss. Denying it isn't going to do her much good, so she might as well skip past it.      “I'm fine. Who needs meditation when you spend time on the back of a horse, right?” she replies.      She wasn't keeping up an appearance, because Dean is right. Her mood did change for the better the moment she opened the stable door and was greeted by her four-legged friend. By the time she settled on her back, the whole thing seemed silly and unimportant.       “Especially on a horse like that. She’s good,” Dean compliments. “The rider could use a lesson or two…”      Y/N stares at him over her shoulder self consciously, turning Meadow around to face the cowboy. Is he serious? But when she spots the smirk on the wrangler’s face, followed by the subtle wink, she cannot help but chuckle.      “Let me guess: you should be the one teaching me,” she fills in.      “I can't think of anyone more capable,” he grins, his eyes sparkling like the stars above.      “Of course you can't,” she laughs as Meadow halts, allowing her to swing her leg over the back and smoothly lower herself until her feet reach the ground.      Glad to have gotten rid of the awkwardness, Dean gets down from the fence and opens the gate. Y/N leads the Quarter mare to the tack up area under the tree and her company follows, hitting the light switch when he passes it. The arena spots die down, leaving the only light to come from inside the barn together with the moon and galaxy above. As she takes off Meadow’s bridle and replaces it with a leather halter, she cannot help but to analyze herself. When she angrily speed-walked from the Saloon to the stable with her fists clenched in her pockets, she was calling Dean out for being a dirty scumbag with no respect for women whatsoever. But now that he’s here and apparently still takes an interest in her, a part of her is thrilled by that matter, and steadily overrules.      Y/N, you know better than this! He just wants to get in your pants! He will dispose of you like an empty coffee container when he’s done with you! She continues the inner dialogue while loosening the girth, after which she lifts the heavy saddle off Meadow’s back.      “I got it,” Dean says, taking over the twenty-five-pound load.      He holds the back of the saddle on his hip, balancing it by gripping the gullet. As if it weighs nothing at all, the wrangler heads to the tack room. Amused, Y/N watches him from under her Stetson hat, her eyes taking him in from top to bottom. Oh, you just cannot help yourself, can you? Meadow snorts impatiently and rubs her head against her shoulder. She is making herself perfectly clear; the Queen doesn't have time for this and wants to get to her hay, pronto. After a quick brush Y/N leads her to her stable and puts a rug on the horse to protect her from the cold in the early hours. Buried in thoughts, she enters the tack room where Dean is about to put the saddle away. She watches him push the saddle upon the highest rack on the wall, his strong arms working under his plaid shirt.       “Can I ask you something?” she wonders while she stores away the brushes, leg protection, and bridle.      “Shoot,” he says, as the two of them exit the room, which the head wrangler locks up.      The cowgirl hesitates, her footsteps suddenly loud and obvious when she begins to walk down the hall between the stables. “It might be a little straightforward--”      “Really? You being straightforward?” he interrupts, a smug grin on his face. “Now, that I wasn't expecting.”       She glares at the handsome cowboy, but can't suppress the smile either. The sarcasm is practically dripping off his comment and she bumps her shoulder into his.      “Watch it,” she warns. “You’re not entirely on my good side yet.”      A last glance into the quiet stable is sufficient to reassure Dean that the horses are alright until the final feeding round. He leaves the light on for his uncle and exits the barn through the large doors.      “Yeah, about that. What did I do to make you storm off?”      The two of them walk out, back to the tack up area. For a moment Y/N thinks of an answer, but nothing that she can come up with sounds reasonable. To be fair, she’s not even sure if she’s ready to admit why she got so frustrated with him. Dean is a free man, who can see whoever and do whatever he pleases. Yet when Casey put her arms around him and got intimate, she felt a prick in her heart. Her stupid, stupid heart wanted to be the one close to him, even though her smart mind is trying to keep it together and do the respectable thing.       “It was nothing, really,” she excuses, not giving him much of an explanation.       Dean glances aside, reading into the doubt in her voice. What is it, that she doesn't want to tell him? Could it be, that in that moment, she was jealous of Casey? He thinks about it for a second, as he slowly strolls to the big Joshua tree in the center of the square. He has played a lot of girls, but that sure as hell was not what he was doing here. He never intended to lure Y/N out of hiding, though her response to the situation raises a question. If watching him and another girl really bothered her that much, does that mean that she is interested in him? Confused, he bites the inside of his cheek as he halts.      “What did you want to ask me?” he wonders.      For a moment there, she was lost in her own mind, but then Y/N redirects her focus and turns around to face him. Curious, he observes the young woman as he leans against the bark of the tall Yucca tree. The sight of Mister Green Eyes wonderingly looking over, forces her to take a breath before she speaks. Stars reflect in his pupils, the moon painting their surroundings in a silver hue. It reminds her of the hills back home, covered in frost at the arrival of winter. Dean’s short hair has been tousled by the hat he took off and now holds by the brim. The up-to-no-good smile is gone, but he seems content either way. God, isn't he lovely. Annoyed with herself for thinking such things, she looks down, figuring that not being mesmerized by his gorgeous looks might help her keep it together.       “I was just wondering…” she starts insecure. “I - I mean, you and Casey… Are you two…?”     Dean frowns at the presumption. So it was about Casey.       “Together? No.” He huffs, unable to picture it. “She and some friends rent a house here for a week or two a year to blow off some steam. We’ve hooked up a couple of times whenever she comes over, but it doesn't mean anything.”      Y/N digests the information and keeps her gaze pinned on the hat in his hands. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean anything. See? He doesn't care about Casey and he surely won't care about her either. But if he doesn't care for Casey, she doesn’t have to compete with anyone. Wait... She’s not actually considering making a move, is she? Y/N, you are under no circumstances making a move! she tells herself sternly. God, this is what schizophrenia must feel like.      Trying to distract herself from the voices in her head, she carries on with the conversation. “I'm sorry for asking. I know it’s none of my business, but I - I cannot help to wonder…”      Now she does look up, a little shocked when she realizes how close Dean is. His eyes are on her, peeling away the layers as he tries to make sense of what she’s struggling to say.      “If Casey is at the ranch, why are you here with me?”      Stunned, Dean keeps a hold of her gaze. She isn’t asking the obvious, but that is a damn good question. Casey offered herself on a silver plate back in the Saloon. Dean never experienced much trouble with the ladies, yet the brunette, in particular, couldn't wait to open her legs for the wrangler. He could have had her in his bed right now, letting her do all kinds of delightful things to him. Yet here he is, opposite of the girl that has been giving him a hard time from the get-go. The thought of Casey did nothing for him, he simply wasn’t interested in the regular ranch guest. Why is that? Brought out of balance by the question, he chuckles nervously and breaks eye contact, fiddling with the brim of his hat again. Slowly it starts to sink in. Why he would much rather be here with Y/N under the Joshua tree. Why he felt the need to protect her from Benny’s lust. Why he lost interest in any other girl. Why every wandering thought, every daydream he had in the past week, was somehow about the one person standing before him.      He looks up at her again and something within him changes. A tightness in his chest that he has never experienced before makes it difficult to swallow. It's unpleasant, scary even, but the sight of her waiting in wonder takes away the discomfort. The faint light from the night’s sky caresses her hair and smooth skin. A pair of gorgeous eyes framed with long lashes watch, traces of hesitation in them, but also curiosity. God, she’s beautiful, he thinks to himself.

     Dean fails to answer her question with words. He doesn't have to. His mouth falls open just a little as he looks deep into her eyes with an intensity she is unfamiliar with, simply because no one has ever looked at her like that before. As if only now he came to realize what is happening between the two of them.      He can tell that she understands now, because her insecurity makes way for astonishment.       “Oh…” she responds, flustered, a shy smile growing larger.      He mirrors her expression without letting go of her gaze. His pupils bounce between hers as he leans in hesitatingly. Every fiber he consists of wants to kiss the enchanting cowgirl before him and he cannot stop his eyes from flicking down at her lips for just a moment, then up again. Would she let him? What are you waiting for? Just go for it, Dean lectures himself. This isn't the first time he’s kissed a girl, however, doubt overwhelms him. What if she pulls back? What if he ruins it? Could he handle that? Before the cowboy can decide to act or not to act, she looks down and lets out a shuddering breath, the anticipation becoming too much.       “Are you cold?” he asks kindly, quickly covering up the awkwardness.      She crosses her arms in front of her chest and nods. Not only did Meadow get a workout, so did her rider. Her clammy undershirt has turned stone cold and sends goosebumps down her arms. Or is it Dean who is doing that?      “Let’s get inside. Wouldn't want you to catch something,” he suggests, not having a jacket to offer.      She agrees to that, because the warmth of the bunkhouse sounds pretty good. In silence they stroll towards the cabin, her shoulders hunched in an attempt to keep the cold at bay, as Dean walks by her side. Overcome by the rush of mixed emotions, she glances at him from under her hat. He seems to be pondering, without a doubt going over the past minute. That one moment that Dean’s reason for wanting to be around her became clear, with nothing more than a look. Holy mother, he was going to kiss you, and you glanced down? Why would you do that? What were you thinking?! She could kick herself in the head right about now. It was the responsible thing to do, to avoid things from getting complicated, to keep their relationship strictly business. But dear God, she wanted him to close that gap and press his lips on hers.       Dean walks up the porch and opens the door, after which he holds the fly curtain aside so that Y/N can pass through. As soon as she steps into the bunkhouse, peculiar sounds coming from one of the rooms draw her attention. Squeaking in a steady pace mixed with moans of both male and female, followed by a muffled ‘oh yeah’ and ‘right there’. Dean, who was about to pull the door shut, freezes mid-action when the noise reaches his hearing. Well then, this situation just went through the awkward scale. Y/N slowly turns to him, eyes wide in shock as she mouths ‘Oh my god!’ and he can't contain the quiet laughter.      “Who’s in there?” she whispers.      “My two cents: Benny and Casey,” he replies, keeping his voice down.      “Are you serious?” she returns, watching him shrug. “She lost no time, did she?”      “Like I said: it didn't mean anything,” he assures, grinning at her judgment. “Besides, you’re much better company anyway.”      Y/N can feel the heat rising to her face again. She opens her mouth to return the compliment, when the sounds from the other room intensify. Dear Lord, those two are really going at it.       Dean chuckles, awkwardly rubbing his neck. “I'm gonna get some shut-eye, if I can with those rabbits next door.”      “Yeah, me too,” she says, shaking her head as she makes a mental note to dig up a set of earplugs from her suitcase.      In the doorway Y/N turns around, granting herself a last look at the man that is stealing her heart away. “Good night.”      “G’night,” Dean returns with a soft voice, keeping a hold of her gaze as well until she shuts the door.      The sounds of the couple in the other room is all that is left, a painful reminder of his loneliness. Could this evening have played out differently if he had kissed her? It probably could have. Shit, what if he wasted his only shot? For a few seconds the wrangler lingers, but then turns towards his room, where he sits down on the edge of his empty bed. Banning the noises of pleasure next door from his mind, Dean forks his fingers together as he leans his forearms on his knees. He's so confused by his own thoughts and how he’s responding to them, that he doesn't seem to know himself anymore. For some reason his conscience is telling him not to rush this, to take it one step at a time. What if for once in his life, this could grow into something more than just a fling?      At the same time, another voice raises awareness for the mixed signals she’s been giving, because she hasn’t exactly sent him a private invitation. And even if she does go along with it for a little while, what happens when she truly gets to know him? What happens when she learns about his tainted past, the family drama, his flaws and missteps? What happens when she sees him for who he truly is, under the mask and the pile of bullshit? The only reason why he can live with himself is because he swept the dirt under the carpet a long time ago and keeps pretending it's not there. When she knows, she will leave, he’s sure of it, and the thought of that alone scares him already. But it’s his heart that shouts the loudest, practically begging to throw himself at her. His heart which was rooting for that kiss. His heart which finally seems to have found what it had been silently waiting for.       Pondering, Dean rubs his face and glances at the desk clock on his nightstand, which shows the time at 10.47 PM. Next to it, a picture stares back, portraying his Mom with her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling her four-year-old son against her chest lovingly. Like he has so many times over the years, he wishes she was still alive. Right about now, this lost wanderer could use someone to point him in the right direction.

The pining! They were so close! Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part eight here

[princecharmingtobe]

I was working on a Mighty Nein High School au at one point and I kind of want to come back to it cause I really liked what I had going so far

It’s gonna be a lot so I’ll put it under a readmore

Caleb: I decided this about him before his backstory drop, and have decided to keep it. He is a pyromaniac, and in his early/mid teens he was playing with a lighter, and it got out of hand and he ended up accidentally burning down his house, with his parents inside. Which further complicated his relationship with fire. He had to repeat a year or two of school as he “recovered” from the trauma of it all and ended up in the foster system, where he met Nott, who was his foster sister.  At the time the au takes place he is 19 and a high school senior. He’s aged out of the foster system, and already not being in great condition he quickly slips through the cracks and ends up living on the streets. He does still try to go to school, because it was a big deal that he was going to be the first in his family to go to college, and he’s just kind of holding onto that because he has nothing else. Most people avoid him for various reasons. He doesn’t get to bathe often, or wash his clothes, and everyone knows what happened to his parents. He’s mostly fine with this, being ignored, though there are also bullies. He doesn’t fight back, and Nott and sometimes Beau come to his rescue. Beau often tells him to stand up for himself.

Nott: A high school freshman, in foster care. I’ve toyed with various possible races for her, but can’t really decide on one, just that she both experiences racism and deals with some internalized racism. Small for her age, but ready to FIGHT. At least to defend herself and Caleb. Always wears an oversized green hoodie that used to belong to Caleb.  She attends an after school science club, and especially loves chemistry. 

Jester:  Jester is black and vaguely chubby and very sweet. Freshman or Sophomore. She is friends with most of her classmates to some extent, but some of them also talk behind her back, and she pretends she doesn’t know. “Isn’t her mother a hooker?” “I thought she was a stripper?” “Same difference.”  She got a very open sex education from her mother, and openly talks about such things, so people also call her “easy” and “loose” and such. She may or may not be sexually active in this au, I haven’t decided, but either way she is sweet and doesn’t deserve their shit.  She is one of Nott’s few friends, and tries to be friendly with Caleb as well (they did get off to a rough start when she told him he smelled bad and needed to shower). She’s also one of Beau’s few friends, and Beau will intimidate people talking bad about Jester and her mom into shutting up.

Beau: Sophomore or Junior. Has been threatened with juvie multiple times but hasn’t been sent away yet. Kind of a punk. Skips class, gets in all manners of trouble, but tends to stand up for those who won’t defend themselves. Disappoints her parents! Fuck ‘em! Has a complicated relationship with Molly. They antagonize the fuck out of each other, but it’s never come to violence (except for a heated game of dodgeball. the school has since banned dodgeball). 

Fjord: Senior. Has one of those tall, broad builds that make a person LOOK really strong, but he’s actually not very athletic, doesn’t play any sports. He is a theater nerd, the annoying kind who’s always practicing accents. Has taken it upon himself to “coach” Beau on being more approachable. I’m not really sure what else to do with him @_@

Mollymauk: Sophomore or Junior? Of unknown race. Probably mixed race, definitely not white, but nobody’s really sure and he certainly couldn’t tell you. Molly was found two years ago outside town with a head injury and no ID. He can’t remember anything about who he is or where he came from, and thus far nobody has claimed him. He’s happy with his current life though, and has no interest in finding his family. “They’re either dead or don’t give a shit, so why bother?” He was found by Gustav, who owns a tattoo/piercing shop, which Molly helps out in after school. He helped him come up with a name (the legal peeps were dubious, but Molly was all about it) and has custody of him for the time being. Gustav isn’t exactly parent material, and makes some questionable decisions, like letting Molly get covered in tattoos and piercing. The school certainly took issue, but he handled it. It’s an ongoing battle though and Molly’s attitude doesn’t help. He also has his hair dyed purple and wears red contact lenses cause WHY NOT.  He’s very obviously and openly queer and has his share of bullies, but generally doesn’t get messed with because of his proximity to Yasha.  He’s only recently returned to school, and apparently attended a different school previously. At the start of the AU he’s vaguely aware of Caleb, but Caleb avoids him like the plague because of all the attention he attracts. 

Yasha: Sophomore, Junior, Senior??? Yasha is a new student, like Molly. Not much is known about her, but there are plenty of rumors. Many say she’s been to juvie, some say she killed someone. Yasha neither confirms nor denies these claims.  Molly was the first other student she met when she moved to the town, in Gustav’s shop. Feeling nervous about a new school she gravitated to the one person she recognized, and since he is also new he did the same, and they’ve been close ever since. She’s ready and willing to fight, but so far no one’s challenged her. She’s a bit disappointed. She’s charmed by Jester, and Beau keeps doing vaguely nice things for her, but like, randomly and in weird situations. She is confused, but flattered.

There’s a whole Widomauk plot that goes with it that I might actually try to write. Try being a key word, I’m not good at writing XP

[thekintsugikids]

ok so i KNOW this is dumb but i need to rant.

so i watched the new riverdale (which is probably more than enough of a reason for any of you to not read this and trust me—i understand). and ho. ly. shit. i have genuinely NEVER been so mad at a tv show in my whole fucking life.

i’ll admit here and now that i still watch riverdale, because i am unwaveringly stubborn and i’m seeing this shit show through to the end. so things that seem, from a surface level, pretty genuine, anger me more than they should because i know the context of this bullshit. which means that, if you’re reading this, you’ll have to hear all of that shit so i can fully explain my anger.

so the episode is like. almost entirely based around the high school’s guidance counselor (who everyone is conveniently going to for therapy, even a character who goes to another school, but i can’t even be mad at riverdale for using a shitty mcguffin like that. it should be expected) where all the kids talk about their fucked up lives. that’s cool, i can accept that. riverdale does some dumb shit, but if they’d just done a psychological deep dive into their characters after all the trauma they’ve been through over the course of two and a half years? sure. I’ll bite. but this is riverdale, a show that somehow seems to be written by teenage interns who have never written a script in their life and 40-somethings who have never met real teens in their lives, so that’s not what we got. no, what we did get was this shitty school counselor listening to the characters unload genuine emotional trauma about their parents, and hear the counselor basically say, “they’re just trying to protect you.”

now allow me to explain why that is absolute fucking bullshit.

Betty’s mom forced herself into her daughter’s counseling session, because Alice ran to the high school guidance counselor to ask how she should deal with her daughter being sexually actively—which already, big fucking yikes. after a couple of minutes of back and forth about how Betty is being denied by her dream college because she’s having sex and irresponsibly disregarding her future in doing so (which again, huge red flag but let’s put that on the back burner for like two seconds). the counselor decides that they should do a joint session to work some shit out. ok. fine. whatever. moving on.

Betty says her mom lying to her whole life impacted her negatively. which yeah, that actually makes sense. in less than two years her mother went undercover with the fbi and joined a cult, without telling her own child that she at least didn’t believe in what the cult preached, gave away all the money she had saved for college to said cult, and was working with her half brother who Betty believed was dead (this is riverdale it’s a lot to unpack and i don’t blame you if you stop here bc ive been watching this show since 2017 and im still confused when i read that). she also had Betty’s sister committed to the sisters of quiet mercy, which is basically a disciplinary school for literally anything and everything under the sun (pregnant teenagers, mentally ill children, and conversion therapy are a few things we’ve seen it used for), and didn’t tell Betty that her sister was there, or that she was pregnant. her parents let her believe that her sister was a drug addict in rehab, because that was better than anyone knowing their daughter was pregnant, and then ofc that Alice reads her diary because she refuses to let her daughter have any semblance of privacy. keep in mind, this whole episode started with Alice opening Betty’s mail, seeing that she didn’t get accepted to Yale, and telling her that she searched her room to see “what could be distracting her from her future” (and then gets mad at her for having birth control). her mother says, “I just wanted to protect you.” okay, fine. whatever, that’s total bullshit, but fine.

but then!!! she has a breakdown about how she wants Betty to be better and she’s scared of her growing up and she just wants her to be safe which. ok. ok. ok. shut up. she’s said this EVERY. SEASON. OF THE SHOW. how many times can she say the exact same thing and never learn from it? but Betty isn’t having that shit, she’s been dealing w this shit for so long and she’s done, right? she’s growing up, and her mom would have to be incredibly naive to think that she could just stop that, especially when they are living w her bf’s family. like yeah, they live together. they share a room. they’re teenagers, they’re gonna have sex. who. fucking. cares. her mom then tells Betty that it’s because she’s her favorite child, which........Yikes. and the scene ends.

the weird thing is like.....we’re meant to sympathize with Alice??? after everything she has done—much of which i didn’t touch on—because.............Betty’s her favorite child?????? that’s???????? SUPPOSED TO JUSTIFY THE THINGS SHE DOES?????????? no no no NO what the fuck is THAT manipulative bullshit?? what the fuck. i can’t even think of anything else to say about that, what the actual fuck.

but the real kicker ooooooooh bitch. it’s the end of the episode, with Jughead. many other things happen between the Betty’s session and Jughead’s, but they don’t necessarily fit into what I’m trying to say so I won’t be talking about it. but holy shit the things she said to Jughead? for context, Jughead’s father is an abusive piece of shit. he has gotten violent with his own son, threatened him, abandoned him for his gang when the rest of their family moved out of state to get away from him (Jughead’s dad), and he is an alcoholic who did things like getting drunk at Jughead’s 15th birthday party, and that’s just the cliff notes version. basically he’s a grade-a abusive asshole, which is a field i am well-versed in.

FP, Jughead’s father, says that his father was an abusive drunk, so obvs the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. one of the the biggest issues with this show, though, is that they refuse to acknowledge that FP himself is abusive. like, even writers of the show have said that he is not abusive, even saying that viewers were ignorant to believe that he is (and as someone with an abusive father, first of all, fuck you). and Jughead is on a mission this entire season to prove that his grandfather was some great writer or whatever and his work was stolen from him.

now, how exactly does any of that relate to the discussion at hand?, you might be asking. well he’s at riverdale high to get his transcripts or whatever bc he’s at a new school and they’re all assholes (no, im not going into further explanation of that because there is way too much to unpack). so he’s w the guidance counselor, they talk about it and she has the fucking gall to say, “but think about how your father must feel about all of this???” which, okay, i see where she might be coming from. FP was abused by his dad. but Jughead is also abused by FP, so why the fuck should he worry about whether or not he’s hurting his father? FP irreparably damaged Jughead—I promise you all that being homeless, being hit and threatened by your father, being abandoned by your entire family? that’s not shit you can repair. you don’t just fix that shit. that stays with you.

the counselor tells Jughead that he should be proud of the man his father worked to become (like he isn’t still horrible to Jughead????? for example, forcing him to go to a school that he does not want to go to because it makes their family look better??? ok), she says FP is just supporting his son. and the real kicker—she says, “and you repay him by going on this quest to prove that the man that caused him immeasurable pain is some kind of wronged hero? how do you think that makes him feel?” (that is the quote verbatim, by the way. that is what she says so Jughead)

like FP has earned something from Jughead. like Jughead is in the wrong for not wanting his name to be seen as a joke. no, this is how you repay him for everything he did for you. FP abused his son. it’s literally that fucking simple. and Jughead didn’t even want to talk to this lady, she forced him into the conversation while he waited for fucking transcripts so he could apply to colleges. and we, the audience, are supposed to be on the counselor’s side. we’re supposed to say “yeah Jughead, look at everything your dad has done for you! he loves you!!”

Jughead even says it himself. “My poor dad. I’m so selfish.” like his dad deserves his respect. like he earned Jughead’s respect. like FP deserves a single goddamn thing from his son.

keep in mind, this is a show that’s biggest demographic is people under 20 and they are basically telling their audience that their parent’s abuse is just because they’re “protective” or because they’re “trying to help them.” guess what, that’s not fucking true. if your parent, or ANYONE, is abusing you, it is because they are fucked up. it is not because they love you, it’s not because they “want what’s best for you.” and how dare anyone, let alone fucking Riverdale, try to tell me that it is. no, as someone with an abusive father, i fucking promise you, this shit is not out of love. abuse is not love. and fuck Riverdale for trying to tell me that it is.

[acoolguyscoollife]

Chapter 19: In-Tru-Da-Window

Amy

“So, are we just not gonna talk about this?” Aki asked, as we got ready to transport ourselves into the void, and then back to Tabitha’s laboratory. This being, of course, CG’s incredibly weird heterochromia iridis.

“I guess. At the end of the day, I can kinda see why he wouldn’t wanna talk about it.” I replied, and she looked over at him. He seemed normal, posturing around like he always did, but then again, it was kind of hard to read him sometimes.

“But… he chose to wear those for twenty years. You’d think that must make a difference to some people, having something different where you purposefully hide it. Hell, he shaped his whole personality around it.” Aki’s words rang true, relating to a lot of stuff I’d wondered myself. There was no denying that Cool Guy was a little bit insane, but then again, he seemed to attract that kind of crowd. Everyone he’d kept in contact with had something weird about themselves. Tabitha was a workaholic to a worrying level. Seth was hyperfocused on tasks that he was given. I was a polyamorous pansexual. And now Aki, a girl from another universe who was literally an anthropomorphic cat. Compared to everything else, CG almost seemed normal. Well, kind of. In court, you’d definitely be able to plead sanity. Or insanity, depending on what needed to be pled. Wait, is it pled or pleaded? Meh, who cares, I’m not gonna waste time like CG does.

CG

She says, wasting time much like I do.

Amy

“He’s fine.” I said firmly, dissuading any ideas from lurking in my mind. “Just quirky. Trust me, if he’s not okay, we’ll be able to tell.” An idea hatched in my mind as I spoke, so I turned to CG, who was… a distance away from me. It was kind of hard to tell when everything was black, and the floor didn’t really feel like it was there. “Hey CG, you doin’ okay, man?” I yelled over to him, and he looked back at me with a puzzled expression.

“Doin’ alright, yeah!” He replied after a moment, positively. I turned back to Aki, who was pouting at me.

“See, he’s doin’ alright.” I said, with a grin threatening to break through the sides of my face.

“You don’t need to be an ass about it.” Aki said, frowning. “I’m just worried, you know?” She looked over at him, and I had a moment of realisation.

“Ohhh.” I said, aloud. “Wait, do you have a thing for him?” Trying to clarify this was hard, but the emotions that crossed her face said a lot. Before she even told me what she felt, I knew that she respected him, thought he was nice, but didn’t know enough about him and wasn’t sure about her feelings.

“I don’t know… I think he’s a really respectable guy, and he’s really nice and sweet, but I barely know enough about him, and I don’t know about my feelings.” Aki said, almost verbatim to what I had seen. “Plus, I’ve never dated someone before.” Okay, that one I didn’t see coming.

“Wait, really?” I asked, disbelieving. Without a reply, she just nodded. “Huh, that’s… something we need to fix, for sure.” Aki glanced over at me, instead of at the rest of the group.

“But how? If I was becoming experienced for CG, then I couldn’t date him, and like… Seth’s cool and all, but I feel like he wouldn’t be that into me. There’s nobody else.” Aki said, a little despondently. All I could do was clear my throat a few times, trying to get her to look at me again. After the third time, she looked over, and saw my hand pointing at me. “You?” She asked, confused.

“I’m polyamorous. Consider it a trial run. And hey, if you’re into this sorta thing, maybe you can just stay.” I said, cringing internally as I did so. My experience was with confident people, who knew what they wanted. Talking to someone who’s never dated before, and trying to help them in my own screwed up way, was severely awkward for me. Aki glanced over at the others, who were still busy talking about their own stuff, then leaned in and sniffed the top of my chest, which was weird, but also endearing. She stopped sniffing when she moved to my ear, and I just prayed that she wasn’t about to start grooming me. Cat-sniffing was okay, but I didn’t wanna have my ear licked.

“I’ll think about it.” Aki said, close enough for me to realise that she’d… put on perfume at some point? I suppose in an underground sewer, that sort of thing was going to be commonplace. Her fur brushed against my cheek, replaced by her lips, one movement away from kissing me, and I realised that maybe she wasn’t going to be as inexperienced as I thought. To quote a famous man in this situation:

Yowza!

CG

That stuff was cute and all, but the rest of us were talking some serious shit.

“So like, which ghost is your favourite?” Tabitha said, and Seth hemmed and hawed as he thought about it, leaning from one foot to the other.

“Inky. Hands down.” He replied after a moment, and both of us groaned.

“Jeez, the most typical answer. The objective truth is Clyde, obviously.” I said, causing Tabitha to turn to me in disdain.

“Are you joking? Blinky’s storyline is way more fleshed out!” She complained, but I stood my ground. I knew which ghost was my favourite.

“Yeah, but the payoff is that Blinky’s brother gets sent to Ghost Jail, and his trauma returns once more, and it just leaves it at a cliffhanger where he just ignores the voice of his biggest fear! At least with Clyde, you know that even if one of his enemies is alive, he still took down his biggest one, and reunited with his friends, finally happy again!” I laid down the facts, and Tabitha’s argument turned to shatters.

“But what about…” Seth began, and I held up a finger to stop him before he even could.

“Don’t even get me started on Inky and Pinky. It was nice that one episode had a crossover between the two, but they were both purposefully left open-ended for another season of Ghost Defenders, and of course, it got cancelled before their stories were over! You can’t argue that Clyde and even Blinky had stories that ended properly.” When it came to TV shows and games involving ghosts, I was incredibly passionate. “Look, my opinion would probably have changed if they’d had finished stories, but they didn’t. It sucks, but that’s how it is.”

“You ever think how Ghost Defenders was supposedly a huge allegory for another show the author watched, and he cancelled it when he did to disappoint that many people again?” Seth said, and I sighed deeply. Ghost Defenders had been one of the best online shows ever, and of course, it had gone too soon. A candle in the wind.

“What the shitnuts are we doing?” Tabitha asked, and I realised what had happened. We’d been side-tracked again. “The next world is Terranovius. Either of you play that?” I shook my head, but Seth nodded.

“Old game about building, right? There’s a whole thing about eldritch gods and whatnot.” Seth said, and Tabitha confirmed it with a nod of her own, producing some images from the cassette tape’s memory stick. It was stills of Uchen, and the background was a lot different to what it had been. He knew we were following him, and all I could hope is that we’d get there in time.

“That background is unmistakable. It’s the dungeon from Terranovius.” Tabitha said, and I just pretended that I knew what was going on. “Uchen is still warning me about his protégé, but something tells me that they’ve met. The way he talks has changed. The tone of his words. They’re going to keep going for god knows how long, but we should catch up soon. I imagine we can cut corners.”

“Is that the safest idea? The last thing I want to do is hit the final boss before beating all of his minions, you know? I need those levels.” I joked, and Tabitha turned her attention to me.

“If our life’s a video game, then Uchen’s protégé isn’t even going to count as a mini-boss. His ass will be out before he can even say cripes.” She said, a tone of firmness in her voice that told me not to push the issue. Despite my joking, I did sort of feel unprepared for this. This was a real man. Or at least, it had been. I don’t even know what he was now, but it was possible he was in pain. If I could bring him back, make sure they were both saved, despite the protégé’s flaws, I would and wait what is that blaring alarm sound?

“That… sounds bad.” Seth said, looking up at the suddenly existing red flashing lights. “Is it the simulation?” Tabitha shook her head, grim-faced.

“Much worse. There’s an intruder in the complex. I don’t know how they got in, or even if it’s only one, but what I do know is that this could be bad. If this gets out…” Tabitha didn’t finish, but I knew what she was thinking. Uchen would become trapped. Her research would have been for nothing. Amy and Aki walked over, and Seth filled them in as I spoke to Tabitha.

“What’s the opinion on using force?” I asked, gesturing to the shotgun still strapped to Seth’s back. She looked over at it, thin-lipped.

“I mean, they are trespassing. I wouldn’t really feel too bad if something happened.” Tabitha said. “But don’t kill them. Just threatening should do.”

“God damn, Tab’, you’re badass sometimes.” Amy said, in awe, and I had to say, she was handling this with a level-head and a cool attitude. Not as cool as mine, but nobody can have that.

“So we moving back to the real world?” Seth asked Tabitha, who was typing on her watch as he spoke. A blink of an eye, and we were back in the lab, bright lights hurting my eyes after I had gotten used to the darkness of the void.

“Wait, hang on, we can travel that quickly?” Amy said, which raised a valid point. It had been flashy before now, and right then, it was just quick, easy, and a little disorienting.

“I took a few shortcuts, none too risky. Nobody got hurt, right?” Tabitha asked, and I definitely felt fine. As far as I could tell, I hadn’t lost part of my arm or anything like that. “Okay, arm up. Seth, take the back. CG, you wait close to the door.” Tabitha pointed to where she wanted the two of us, and we moved there, not willing or even really thinking about questioning her orders. “The intruder is five rooms away!” She called out, and I grinned as I thought of the perfect joke.

“Did they get in-tru-da-window?” I yelled back, and I heard an audible snort of laughter from Amy, confirming that my mission was accomplished.

“Three rooms, dumbass!” Tabitha said, and I steeled myself. No big deal, I just had to act tough. What could go wrong here? A leather jacket, sunglasses, and a bitchin’ sword. Nobody was gonna mess with my business. “Incoming!” Tabitha said, and I took a menacing stance as the door opened.

“Jesus, you guys have a swanky place.” The intruder said, walking through the door. “All high-tech and stuff.” They stopped, looking at me, then past me. “Whoa, did I interrupt some sort of futuristic LARPing session?” My sword arm lowered, and I heard some muffled chatter from behind me.

“…ing way.” I caught the end of Amy’s curse, as she saw who the intruder was. Reflexively, I put the sword back away, moving slightly backwards as the intruder moved closer.

“CG, man, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. I guess my surprise worked better than I thought.” Seth moved back to the rest of the group. “Whoa, who’s that?!” The intruder said, pointing at Aki.

“Uhh… I’m Aki. I don’t know what’s going on here, I’m sorry.” Aki said, and the intruder shook their head.

“No no, it’s okay. I’m just a little caught off guard by the fur.” The intruder looked at me expectantly. “You not gonna introduce me then?” I cleared my throat, not realising how dry it had gotten, before putting a hand on the shoulder of the intruder and leading her closer to the rest of the group.

“Uh… Aki, Seth, Tabitha…” I began, looking back at the intruder. “This is Rose Kenton.” She pushed a bit of her neon-pink hair back behind her ear. “She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

[theconservativebrief]

On Sunday, audiences around the world learned that actress and filmmaker Asia Argento, one of the most visible spokespeople for the #MeToo movement, had been accused of sexual assault. Argento has denied the allegations, but the news is sure to send shockwaves through the movement, as advocates come to terms with the fact that a high-profile survivor of sexual misconduct might also be a perpetrator.

Disturbing as they are, the allegations against Argento are a reminder of a bigger issue that American society still needs to reckon with: Too often, survivors of sexual misconduct have to be “perfect victims” in order to be believed. They must dress in perfect clothes (nothing too short or revealing), report the crime perfectly (delays are impermissible), and, perhaps most importantly, have a perfect past. Fail on any of these counts and they risk being branded as liars by those eager to find a reason to discount the testimony of women.

But survivors of sexual assault aren’t paragons of perfection. They’re people — one in six women and one in 33 men has experienced rape or attempted rape, according to the Rape, Abuse, & Incest National Network. Some of them are people who have themselves done terrible things, including assault others. Until we can accept this fact, and dismantle our preconceived notions about how survivors and perpetrators behave, the work of #MeToo won’t be done.

For decades, sexual assault prevention advocates — not to mention anyone who tries to report assault — have been familiar with the pressure on survivors to appear perfect in every way. The first SlutWalk was organized in response to a Canadian police officer who said women should “avoid dressing like sluts” if they didn’t want to get raped — the implication was that if women wore “slutty” clothing, their sexual assaults were at least partly their fault.

A woman’s sexual history is routinely brought up as a way to invalidate her reports of sexual violence. Rape shield laws were instituted around the country in the 1970s and 1980s as a way to keep defense attorneys from using survivors’ past sexual history to get defendants off the hook, but in practice, victims are still blamed and slut-shamed in the courtroom.

“It sounds as if she slept with almost every single man on the planet,” said defense attorney Kathleen Bliss at Bill Cosby’s retrial earlier this year, speaking of model Janice Dickinson, who had testified that Bill Cosby had raped her. “Is Ms. Dickinson really the moral beacon the women’s movement wants?” Bliss asked.

And of course, rape shield laws don’t apply in the court of public opinion, where amateur investigators routinely comb through survivors’ histories for any excuse to doubt their reports.

These investigators often pay outsize attention, too, to a survivor’s behavior during and after a crime. Unless she fights the perpetrator tooth and nail, the thinking goes, she must really have wanted the encounter. If she waits a while before reporting — and especially if she maintains contact with the perpetrator after the crime takes place — well then, she must be a liar. These attitudes ignore the realities of trauma as well as the many barriers to reporting sexual violence, but they remain prevalent nonetheless.

Meanwhile, survivors can find themselves cast out of perfect victimhood by virtue of their identities. Male survivors of assault are asked why they didn’t enjoy the experience, since men are presumed to crave sex at all times, no matter the situation or partner.

If a man is assaulted by a woman, he’s asked why he didn’t physically fight her off — ignoring the fact that survivors can freeze during sexual assault, and that the perpetrator is often a friend or partner, whom the survivor may not want to harm.

Women of color find their reports disbelieved because of racist narratives that cast them as hypersexual or undesirable. Sex workers are too often considered “unrapeable” because of their profession. There are many ways of being an imperfect victim, and few — if any — reliable ways to be a perfect one.

The #MeToo movement has raised some awareness about the problems with the “perfect victim” narrative. Many survivors have reported, for instance, that they felt they had to go along with their harassers’ advances in order to keep their jobs.

Former NBC correspondent Linda Vester said that when former anchor Tom Brokaw made unwanted advances toward her, “I felt powerless to say no. He could ruin my career.”

“There are so few jobs” in TV journalism, a woman who said she was groped by former anchor Charlie Rose told the Washington Post. “You know if you don’t behave a certain way, there’s someone else behind you.”

Accounts like these have offered a reminder that not everyone is in a position to report misconduct when it happens. But the #MeToo movement still has a lot of ground to cover.

After the first wave of #MeToo allegations last fall, a pattern began to emerge. If a survivor spoke up on his or her own or as part of a small group, the account was considered suspect — stylist Suzie Hardy’s allegations against Ryan Seacrest, for instance, have had little effect on his career.

And if what he or she experienced was not a violent sexual assault, then the experience was minimized, dismissed as no big deal. When a woman identified as Grace said she had been pressured to have sex by comedian Aziz Ansari, critics called her experience no more than a “bad date.”

Call it the Harvey Weinstein effect — if the misconduct was perceived as less severe than what Weinstein had been accused of, or if the accusers were less numerous than those who had spoken out against the producer, then critics were quick to argue that it wasn’t a real #MeToo story and wasn’t deserving of public attention. But just as there’s no single perfect victim, there’s no single real #MeToo story.

“This movement is making space for possibility,” Tarana Burke, who started the Me Too campaign more than a decade ago to help young survivors of sexual violence, tweeted on Monday. “But, it can only happen after we crack open the whole can of worms and get really comfortable with the uncomfortable reality that there is no one way to be a perpetrator…and there is no model survivor.”

As #MeToo evolves, we’ll have to understand that not only are all survivors of sexual harassment and assault imperfect — because they’re human — plenty have done things that are offensive, immoral, or even criminal.

Perpetrators may be people we respect, even revere; as Burke puts it, “sexual violence is about power and privilege. That doesn’t change if the perpetrator is your favorite actress, activist or professor of any gender.” Meanwhile, some people are both survivors and perpetrators, and their crimes do not invalidate their testimony any more than their history excuses their crimes.

The #MeToo movement has succeeded in exposing the prevalence of sexual misconduct. Part of the reason many survivors shared their stories on social media was to show how common their experiences were.

But we haven’t yet fully internalized what it means that sexual misconduct is common, not rare. It means that many, many ordinary, imperfect people have experienced it. And it means that many ordinary people — and even extraordinary people, who have done wonderful, praiseworthy things — have committed sexual misconduct in their lives.

As it evolves, the #MeToo movement will need to reckon with these realities so that survivors don’t have to be perfect to be believed.

Original Source -> The Asia Argento allegations reveal our damaging misconceptions about sexual assault survivors

via The Conservative Brief

[girlwiththezebratattoo-blog]

Sorry Ma'am, Army Health Care is Not For You

This line sums up how I’ve felt over the past 18months. Here’s my bizarre story in short. In October 2015 I got very sick for two weeks during a military deployment. I didn’t take any antibiotics. I returned in November and everything seemed normal. Later in December the #1 event in a long very dark comedy of errors occurred when an Army doctor accidentally punctured my lung during trigger point dry needling. He said he was sorry which made me feel a little better. Nevertheless I was left with a partially collapsed lung. Additionally, my medical records mysteriously recorded my lung collapse as spontaneous despite his apology and the ensuing internal investigation. And when I tried to get a copy of the investigation for my records my request was denied. That was the first bizarre thing to occur. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. The #2 event was in February 2016 when, the day after another acupuncture treatment, my occipital and trigeminal nerves went haywire! I also developed slurred speech. The acupuncture and neuralgias probably aren’t related. The timing is curious though. Sadly, it took two weeks for me to be diagnosed with occipital neuralgia and over two months for me to be diagnosed with trigeminal neuralgia by civilian Neurologists at a large civilian teaching hospital. Why not Army Neurologists you say? Well, the Army medical response was to tell me I had a psychogenic disorder and that it was all in my head. This sentiment was echoed by the lone Neurologist at the Army Hospital who, in theory, is trained to diagnose rare disorders like Trigeminal Neuralgia! Seriously?!! The purpose of Google is to avoid having to actually know everything. Why don’t more doctors use it? Meanwhile I spent many sleepless nights in excruciating pain pacing the floor of the military ER for up to seven hours before I was seen. I cried a lot. Pain management is understandably low priority–especially for a disorder no one has heard of. Army medicine does what it does very well: trauma, orthopedic injury, etc for 18-25 yr old males. I saw this night after night as jump injuries came into the ER. The fact is Army medicine frankly isn’t setup to diagnose and treat people like me: people with rare disorders. I was about to embark on a long sobering journey to discover just that. For those of you who haven’t encountered anyone with trigeminal neuralgia (TN) it causes excruciating pain and was known as the suicide disease for decades before surgical treatments came along. My TN caused electrical shocks in the left side of my mouth, teeth, and face. And no pain medication helped. I tried them all. I stopped eating. I lost 15lbs and weighed less than I did in high school. My days were pure agony until I was properly diagnosed by a civilian Neurologist who saved my life with a little drug called Tegretol. But more on that later! At this point Army medicine was 0/2 but it gets worse… The #3 event was in June 2016 when I tore my hip labrum. The preceding events got weird. My Army doctor told me she was going to cure my scoliosis by prescribing orthotics (in my case simple heel lifts) without physical therapy to correct my sizeable leg length discrepancy. I knew the statement was ridiculous but I wore them anyhow and pop!–labral tear a few days later. Now I treasure the statement: if it’s not broke, don’t fix it! I should have listened when my Platoon Sergeant told me this as a young, impressionable Lieutenant. Despite the pain and disability, my Army doctor refused to put in the order for an MRI for five months! I didn’t receive a hip arthrogram until October. 0/3

This event caused some soul searching. As in, are Army doctors that bad? Or am I doing something to piss ALL of them off. Even if that were somehow the case isn’t denying treatment and refusing to write referrals unethical? But it gets worse..

Event #4 started in August when I suddenly came down with strange symptoms: excruciating migratory joint pain, chest pain, shortness of breath, muscle pain, vertigo and weakness. That was followed by constant muscle cramps, spasms and twitching in September and then numbness, burning sensations and foot drop in October. Initially in September, my new male Army doctor told me that there was nothing physically wrong with me. All of the symptoms were in my head. He diagnosed me with probable conversion disorder and referred me to a Psychiatrist. This was at our first appointment. I ignored the referral. Meanwhile, a civilian Orthopedic Surgeon and civilian Neurologist each recommended I see a Immunologist but the same Army doctor refused to write the recommended referrals.  Things changed in October when he decided that I was sick with Rheumatic Fever and prescribed Amoxicillin. I will reluctantly give him credit for being the first to figure it out; although the actions he took next were a hot mess. All of my symptoms resolved with antibiotics except for the foot drop and a funny gait. Two weeks later, however, he changed his mind and pulled me off antibiotics. My symptoms returned a few weeks later in November 2016.   Dr. Flip Flop threw out my Rheumatic Fever diagnosis because I still had gait issues after taking antibiotics. A quick Google Search would have discredited his rationale. My abnormal gait was caused by a post streptococcal movement disorder called Sydenham’s Chorea. It usually goes away on its own within six months to two years–except sometimes it doesn’t. It can’t be cured with antibiotics. It’s something called a sequela (pronounced see-kwel) of my original strep infection. Even though the original infection is long gone my body is still producing antibodies which are mistakenly attacking healthy areas of a specific part of my brain called the basal ganglia.  So by November I was sick again and no longer on medication while Dr. Flip Flop repeatedly insisted that I was crazy or lying and threatened me with a command referred psychiatric evaluation. Keep in mind by November my knee was swollen with effusions, and I had positive results from a Nerve Conduction Study which outlined a demyelinating sensorimotor polyneuropathy. This is where I feel most disturbed. I never did let this arrogant, incompetent man get in my head but having loads of physical evidence didn’t hurt either. It gave me the emotional strength and moral courage to ignore him and find another way to obtain medical care. In the Army you follow orders and Dr. Flip Flop was a full bird colonel compared to my captain’s bars. He definitely outranked me. Still, I knew what he was doing was wrong. Plus my health depended on it.  In the end of November 2016 after repeatedly trying to resolve my issue at the unit level I appealed to the Deputy Hospital Commander and Hospital Commander. It took about 60 secs to get approval to go to Walter Reed. Walter Reed is like leveling up your military health care. It’s a large teaching hospital in Maryland across the street from NIH and down the road from John Hopkins. I was excited but nervous. Would the care be any different or would it fit the same trend of skeptical, disbelieving Army doctors who were unfamiliar with my conditions In December 2016 I arrived at Infectious Diseases at Walter Reed which diagnosed me with Rheumatic Fever and put me back on antibiotics for five years. They also referred me to Neurology. I returned in January 2017 to see them. By then my condition was much worse. I had recently had several falls. My customarily slurred speech was stuck at the lowest volume setting. I was dropping things and struggling to sit up in bed and stand up from a seated position. I was hospitalized at Walter Reed at the end of January. There’s more to this story and it isn’t pretty but I’ll save that for later. SPOILER ALERT:  It gets a lot worse but then it gets better. Plus I learn (for the 5th time) how to be my own advocate even in the darkest situation where no one else is fighting for me. And I learn how to let go emotionally over things I don’t have control over. Because sometimes doing the right thing doesn’t get you the results you wanted. But you do it anyways and hope for the best.  😬💪 Stay strong Spoonies!