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yuri-is-online · 10 months

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Out With the Old (Heartsabyul, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle x Yuu)

"Look I would get rid of this thing if I could afford a new sweatshirt." You drag the offensive article of clothing over your head completely missing the spark of curiosity and mischief in your companion's eye. "I've got a lot of bad memories associated with this."

"If it's that uncomfortable we can go look for a replacement instead of-"

"Oh no not like that, it's super comfy. I just don't like it because it technically belongs to my ex."

notes: they/them used for Yuu, some questionable behavior from Floyd and Jade because who else? This is meant to be crack. Second part can be found here (x)

Riddle- "THAT'S LITERALLY ILLEGAL???"

He is too focused on hyperventilating because it sounds like you just admitted to a crime in front of him to even think about offering you one of his sweaters. Trey and Cater have to break it down for him unpaid therapist style that no, you are not wearing stolen property (probably), borrowing clothes is just something people in relationships often do. He then further needs it explained that no, you are not still in a relationship and since you want to get rid of the shirt it sounds like things ended poorly. His friends want to try and suggest he should give you an article of his clothing to replace the offending one but he's so focused on getting you something that matches dress code that they decide to quit while they're ahead. Literally.

Trey- "You know you can always ask us if you need help, right?"

Vil's right about Trey's tendency to fuss and spoil people being a bit of a flaw; he's in tune enough with his emotions to know that he should not, for his own sake, give you one of his old sweatshirts without being honest about why he wants you to wear it. But he can't exactly deny his instincts when it comes to the people he cares about. You're cold and uncomfortable, what sort of guy would he be if he just left you all alone? Just please don't brush this off with a comment about how much of a big brother or mother hen he is; it is already going to be pure torture trying to look at you in his things in a Queen of Hearts honoring way. He doesn't need an added complex on top of it.

Cater- "Oh honey no."

Cater doesn't like keeping stuff his exes gave him either, but luckily for him he's never been in a position where that's literally only the stuff he had on him. Speaking of things, he buys a bunch of clothes off magicam he barley has time to take the tags off of before the trend goes stale. You guys should totally ditch what you were planning to do today and have a little fashion show in his room. It'll be cute and he can get a bunch of cammable shots! Just ignore the pop music club hoodie he refuses to take back because it looks "so much cuter on you." <3

Ace- "That's extremely lame prefect."

He isn't blind; you're cute and poor. Anyone would jump at the chance to let you steal a hoodie, besides Ace isn't insecure enough to be super jealous of someone you clearly hate. He knows you well enough to tell when you are silently wishing death on someone, it's all in the vocal tone. But damn if this new bit of information doesn't make things tricky. He already makes a big fuss about not needing to focus on dating right now, and with that iconic sweatshirt of yours technically belonging to an ex it's not like he can just slide you one of his without making it super obvious what he's doing. Looks like you're just going to have to take some extra teasing for a bit prefect, it's his preferred method of cope.

Deuce- "You've been here for how long and the Headmage hasn't given you any clothes?!?!"

Deuce is a good egg whose primary concern is almost always your well being. He tends to act before his common sense and emotions can catch up with his thought process, and that's exactly what happens here. The concept of you dating someone is just so... foreign to him. Not because he thinks your undesirable! It's just that you guys are always hanging out, you not being around makes him feel a bit funny inside, and not in a good way. He doesn't mention that to his mom when he texts her asking if she has any of his old clothes laying around, but she definitely knows what's on his mind. Why else would she have sent his old delinquent jacket?

Leona- "Well that explains why it smells like shit."

Let the record show that Leona is in fact, lying to you. Your clothes don't smell like anything other than you and maybe some of the musk floating around Ramshackle Dorm, but that doesn't stop you from pulling the fabric and taking a good sniff. To Leona, all this really suggests is that you've been over the person long enough that you don't care about keeping their scent around anymore. Sure, a tiny thought does worm it's ugly way into his inferiority complex that "oh they liked someone else" but his equally large ego immediately slams the emphasis on "liked" and starts thinking about how to get his scent on you. He doesn't really own too many jackets like the one you're wearing, but he does have some nice silk scarfs he could wrap you up in. Much classier than whatever trash you had previously been going out with.

Ruggie- "You wanna toss it my way then?"

Clothes are clothes are clothes, you don't see Ruggie acting like his uniform is still Leona's just because that's who originally bought it. If you are really bothered by the memories of your ex, he's willing to listen and make fun of them, assuming that will make you feel better, but this won't make him jealous. That emotion is reserved for when you share food with other people. He is dead serious about taking the sweatshirt if you don't want it, as far as he's concerned that shirt belongs to you, and he wouldn't mind having an excuse to blend your wardrobes a little bit. It would make you even closer to being a real member of his pack.

Jack- "You can just take mine."

Jack's strong sense of justice and firm moral code are definitely his only motivations for offering you one of his sweatshirts. Forcing a student to wear clothes they find uncomfortable and associate with negative memories just because they didn't have the foresight to pack something they did like for a school they didn't know they would be attending is beyond unfair. That's what he tells himself anyway, and it's not like he isn't upset on your behalf, but it's plain as day to anyone that he wants to prove that you can rely on him; he's not like that other person, he doesn't mind being alone together with you.

Azul- "If your finances really are in such dire straights you know I could-"

Revealing personal information in Azul's presence is asking to be offered a deal. Sure that little complaint might have been insignificant to you, but for Azul? He's having a full blown Sherlock style breakdown going on in his head trying to decide what his angle is. 1) The prefect has dated in the past and doesn't look on that experience favorably. Does this prevent them from dating again? Needs further analysis. 2) Giving articles of clothing is an acceptable form of human courtship, even if used. Or is it especially if used? 3) Can he convince you to burn this if he gets you a replacement or is that too petty? 4) More importantly does this mean you have a type? And how does he press for that information without appearing desperate?

Jade- "Oh? Well that sounds extremely annoying."

Jade Leech is first and foremost a messy bitch who lives for other people's misery. Sure, he is reasonably certain he's in love with you at this point, but that doesn't matter. You have a story that's filled with second hand embarrassment and a bone to pick besides he is nothing if not an enthusiastic audience. The thought of you wearing clothes that he owns wasn't something he would have thought of himself, merfolk don't typically wear them so dating customs that involve them are a bit foreign to him. He would much rather just bite you. Or give you some jewelry. both he wants to do both

Floyd- "PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM OR SO HELP ME"

The instant you say that sweatshirt is from an ex he is taking off whatever shirt he is currently wearing and trying to tug off yours. Yes, even if it is his basketball jersey, and yes even if he just got back from practice. Isn't the scent supposed to be the point? He knows you miss him when he's gone, and he can get you something nicer out of his closet later. Just remember to tell everyone, even and especially if they don't ask, who gave it to you. Floyd's... nice? Enough? To not immediately burn your sweatshirt but it's up for debate if that's because he's actually being nice or if he just wants a trophy.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst x yuu #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #ace trapolla x yuu #deuce spade x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #jack howl x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader

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thechangeling · 2 years

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According to you

In honor of disability pride month. Also to my fellow ADHD peeps I HIGHLY reccomend you listen to According to you by Oranthi.

Cw: Internalized ableism

It's a mess. A catastrophe. A fucking swirling giant black hole of words and concepts and shit that straight up just don't make sense.

Kit sat on his bed in his room at Cirenworth trying not to let his emotions spiral into fucking oblivion as he did his science homework. Or at least was trying to.

Trying being the key word here.

It was annoying because normally if he found the right way to make his brain process the information then it wasn't that complicated. But the font on these textbooks is small and cramped together and sentences bleed and crash into each other like a giant tsunami or some shit and Kit's just left with this overwhelming feeling of helplessness.

The same helplessness he felt in his classes, trying to listen to the teacher and actually do what he was supposed to be doing for once but then like always his mind would just end up wandering without his permission. He would just drift off and float away, not taking in anything the teacher had said. And now here he is, left with his confusion and his crushing stupidity.

So stupid His brain reminded him. He is so fucking stupid. Worthless waste of space.

Kit took a deep breath and tried to refocus on the page in front of him, tapping his fingers on the illustration of cells. He hummed under his breath to calm himself, Knights of Cydonia by Muse.

He couldn't help but think that if Ty were here he could probably explain it in a way that made sense. Kit waved that thought away. Kit had been struggling in school for a while now but this past term had just really taken the cake. Junior year was kind of a hellscape, his friends agreed, but Kit seemed to be struggling more.

He kinda saw this coming seeing as he had literally homeschooled himself for the majority of his life because Johnny didn't care enough to do it himself. His heart squeezed a little at the memory of his father and how he just never really gave a crap. It had taken a long time for Kit to stop blaming himself and start feeling anger towards Johnny for what happened. Therapy and talking to Tessa and Jem helped, but there was still this nagging feeling deep down that he didn't deserve this kindness, this kind of care.

Like it was all an illusion or a trick, or they just wanted something from him. He still had the urge to transform, to try and become whatever they wanted to make them happy. It was an urge that, according to his therapist would fade with time.

Kit wasn't so sure. Sometimes it just like he was going around in circles.

His angsty spiral was interrupted by the sound of his ringtone telling him he got a text. He sighed, exasperated and flung his textbook closed, picking up his phone.

Nessie: Hey I got a gig tonight u wanna come?

Nessie: Mari and Lizzie are coming

Crap. Kit desperately wanted to go. Music was his cure-all for feeling like shit and he always wanted to hang out with his friends. But there was no way he could make it and get his homework done.

Stupid brain.

Kit: sorry I can't 😔

Kit: got too much hw 🤮

He knew Nessie would get it, but still. He forced himself to put his phone down and turn back to what he was attempting to read. He had seven questions from the textbook to do. Technically that wasn't not too bad. It shouldn't take that long, and yet.

Kit had been there for three fucking hours.

He stuck his pencil in his mouth and begun to chew. His text notification beeped again.

He tried to ignore it. He really did.

It didn't work.

Kit grabbed his phone, feeling a weird sense of anxiety brewing in his gut for some reason. He knew Nessie wouldn't be mad but he was still afraid.

Nessie: Do u need help?

So so much. Like everyday all of the time. But Kit couldn't tell her that.

Kit: no offense but didn't u barely graduate?/lh

Nessie: Fuck you/lh Do u want my help or not?

Kit laughed out loud. There's never been a mood so sour that his best friend couldn't pull him out of it. He was kind of not feeling great about the idea of Nessie helping him because the two of them together had a tendency to get side tracked and she had a gig to get to.

But he felt crushed and empty and overwhelmed. He can admit that he needed help. More importantly he needed her.

Kit: ok sure 😊

Kit: thanks nessie 🥰

Nessie: Don't mention it love.

Janessa moved fast, being a vampire and all so it didn't take her long to get to Kit's house. He played some music from his phone while he waited, The Pretty Reckless. He had just started Medicine when he heard a knock on his bedroom window.

His friend was eagerly perched on his windowsill wearing what Kit assumed was her outfit for the gig tonight, black leather pants, a tight black halter top with metal chains holding the fabric of the two sides of the shirt together, and what probably passed in Nessie's mind as reasonable heels. Simple black boots that are only four inches.

Her long dark curls billowed around her in the wind which seemed to be pretty harsh. But Kit knew Nessie wouldn't suffer the cold. She knocked more impatiently against the glass and Kit paused his music, getting up to push the window open.

"Finally!" She groaned, leaping down into his room with all the grace of a creature of the night. "I was out there for fucking forever."

Kit playfully rolled his eyes. "It was literally only two seconds. You're just impatient as shit Nessie."

She glared at him in a nonthreatening way. "Hey I'm the one who ran all way here. I did exercise for you! Exercise Christopher!" Her lips turned up slightly as though she were trying not to laugh.

Kit snorted. "You're a vampire, babe, nothings exercise for you anymore," he pointed out.

Nessie shifted on her feet and crossed her arms in that the way she did when she didn't want to admit she was wrong. "Yeah whatever."

"So what's this crap?" She bounced herself onto his bed and picked up his textbook.

"That's the source of my crushing defeat," he grumbled, flopping back down. "I just can't get my brain to work."

"Mood," Nessie said with a smirk. She had ADHD which she was still unmedicated for seeing as vampires couldn't take any medications and she hadn't been diagnosed until it was too late. Until she was already dead.

She had told him about feeling such intense mood switches that sometimes she could hardly control, being distracted by everything to the point where sometimes she couldn't concentrate on anything and having periods of being stuck where her brain just wouldn't let her do anything. It all sounded a little frighteningly familiar.

But he wasn't like that. Kit didn't have ADHD. He wasn't struggling that badly, it was still manageable. Sort of. Things were just really shitty sometimes.

Nessie sighed. "Ok. This doesn't make any sense."

Kit groaned. "See I told you!" He ran his hand through his hair frantically. "It's fucking senseless! Or maybe I'm just fucking stupid. I know that's probably what my teacher thinks."

Nessie's head snapped up. "What? The fuck did they say?" Kit could see her fangs through her snarl. She was getting into full protective Janessa mode.

Kit moaned softly, burying his face in his hands. "Oh you know," he rubbed his face. "Just that I should have been paying attention the first time. And he said that if I wasn't always zoning out in class then maybe I would have a better grasp of the material."

"Jackass," she hissed, tossing the book to the ground. "Don't listen to that prick he doesn't know you."

Kit brought his knees up to his chest. "I don't know. Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm just not trying hard enough."

Janessa had a strange look on her face, almost like she was trying to suppress an emotion that wasn't on brand. One that showed vauneability. She shook her head, bitting her lip. "No, Kit-Kat you're doing the best you can with what you're got. Believe me I know."

Kit felt tears form in his eyes. "But it's not good enough. It's never good enough."

And that's when Nessie broke, throwing her arms around him and pressing him to her chest. Her bones were digging into him and his cheeks were burning from the tears sliding down his face but he felt safe.

He felt loved.

Janessa always claimed that she wasn't an affectionate person, that she didn't like being soft. It seemed like Kit was her Achilles Heel. "You are good enough, always," she murmered. "More then good enough for me. Fuck everybody else."

They clung to each other in silence. Two broken battered and unwanted souls. Unsure of how to love, but trying anyways.

Kit eventually pulled himself away. "You're gonna miss your gig. Think of all those poor queer alt rock fans you'll be letting down."

Nessie snorted. "Yeah well, too fucking bad. You and I are gonna sit here and figure out what the hell symbiosis even if it kills me."

"You're already dead."

"You know what I mean," she grumbled, prompting up Kit's textbook on her knees. "Do you think it would help if I got my phone to read it out to you? Like an audiobook?"

Why the fuck hadn't he thought of that?

"I mean maybe?" Kit sighed. "Sorry I just feel so stupid."

"Hey!" She chastised him. "You are not stupid. You are incredibly fucking smart. You just have a different learning style and nobody doing shit to support that. Also I know you don't wanna hear this but you probably have ADHD."

Kit pouted. He really didn't feel like having this conversation again. "Nessie can you please just help me get this done?"

She looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it. "Fine. Game faces on. Let's get it done." She picked up her phone.

Kit nodded, picking up his notebook and pencil. "Hey Nessie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

She smirked. "Don't mention it Kit-Kat." She scrolled through her phone, probably looking for the textbook online so google could read it out loud. She began to hum under her breath.

Kit recognized the song. Not right away but as an old song he only partially remembered the words to. But the more he thought about the more it came back.

I'm a mess in a dress can't show up in time, even if it would save my life, according to you, according to you.

But according to him-

Kit felt a grin spread across his face. Nessie wasn't looking at him but he could see she was smiling too.

But according to her...

Btw if you aren't a part of online neurodivergint circles, the tone tag lh stands for lighthearted.

Zia if you catch the slight Eight reference in this fic, I will be super happy.

Tagging: @lavender-scented-rat @littlx-songbxrd @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas @phoenix-and-dragon @amchara @wagner-fell @sandersgrey @the-wckd-powers @spooky-drusilla @ellexu

#tsc #the wicked powers #the dark artifices #kit herondale #janessa williams #janessa is my oc

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nevadas-night-time-novelist · 1 year

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[Changing Tides]

"So tell me how it all began, if you please." Walking into this place, I'd half expected them to have a stereotypical chaise lounge to lay on, letting me lay and stare up at the shitty popcorn ceiling while rattling off a story I've told a hundred other shrinks a thousand times.

Supposedly this one was better than the rest, one more suited to the real nut jobs, like myself. Able to unpick even the most twisted minds and work out the knots in the head. I didn't believe it, of course. As people say, when something seems too good to be true, chances are it is.

I stare at this man, this supposed miracle worker, and exhale through my nose. I don't want to tell this story again, I've told it a million times before. And every time I have, I've relived every painful, shitty moment in extreme detail all over again.

"I wasn't born, like most these days." The classic opener, one I've used so many times now that I've lost count. "I was grown, like the other clones. A freak of nature from the get-go."

"I see you weren't best pleased to be brought into the world that way." He hasn't started making notes yet, nor has he even opened my hefty file to skim over whatever scrawling the last worm wriggling in my apple left behind.

"No shit." I answer curtly. "Nobody asks to be born, but I think it's an insult to be some bastard's sloppy seconds. I don't even know if the guy I came from is even alive, or dead, or some other worse third thing."

The doctor eyes me, sizing me up and ripping me apart, silently simmering over my bitterness. I fucking hate it when they do that.

"Do you resent the man you came from?" I scowl at him, what kind of question is that? "I didn't know him. I can't say. But I resent the fact I'm alive because of him. But if not him, it'd just be someone else, wouldn't it?"

He didn't seem put off by my hostility, in fact, he seemed to welcome it. Negative emotions need unpacked too I guess. "You're right, it could've been anyone. They kept everything about the original secret from you?"

"We're clones." I look in his eyes, hidden behind those red glasses, the deep crimson irritating me already. "We're not built to think, not built to learn, we're built to kill and slave our lives away, until we die."

He nods, a grimace on his scarred face. "I see. That does reflect what I've been told about the Agency before from other ex agents."

"Others? I guess I never figured you'd had others like me before." I frowned and drummed my fingers on my legs.

"Mmhmm." He nodded again, tenting his fingers as he thought, assessing in his mind if he should indulge more details. Technically speaking, he wasn't a licensed therapist, so he wasn't really bound to doctor-patient confidentiality. "Things are awful for those in the agency, but those who get out can begin the healing process."

"You think monsters like me really deserve to find peace?"

He chuckled, and leaned forward in his seat, his eyes glinting under his mask. "What I think is irreverent here, you came to me to find healing, and if it's what you want, I will help you."

#madcom 2bdamned #2bdamned #madness combat #madcom #ficlet #i just wanted to put something out #my mental health has been on my mind a bit

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overcomeanxietycolorado · 1 year

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Are You Hurting But Avoiding Therapy?

Are you avoiding therapy because you don’t want to talk about the past?

I’ve heard people say it before. They don’t want to start over with a new therapist because they don’t want to have to start at the beginning and spend all that time on the past. They just want to get to the NOW.

And there are so many things to talk about in therapy right now!

How are you doing handling this pandemic?

Are you sad? Lonely? Bored at home?

Has this time alone activated your trauma? Do you feel like you were handling life pretty well, but now, everything is an effort?

Are you wondering if this is what depression feels like?

Has all this time alone made you hate your partner and daydream of running away? I get it. (Ok, except the part about hating my partner).

I went to a therapist myself last month.

I love going to therapy! But I didn’t this time.

I’ve enjoyed and thrived with some very good therapy in the past. Those relationships empowered me and enabled me to start my own private practice many years ago.

Therapy give me confidence that propelled me to move to a new city, because I wanted to. Therapy helped me uncover my dreams and make them come true.

I love going to therapy.

But last time I tried it, I did not love it. I was impatient.

I just wanted to talk, talk, talk. I didn’t want to answer questions about how I’d describe my father or what is my relationship with my siblings.

It wasn’t the therapist’s fault. I think she was probably a wonderful therapist. I respect her. But it didn’t work for me so I cancelled my next appointment. I told her we weren’t a good fit. I’m not sure that was technically true. We were fine.

It was the intake structure that wasn’t a good fit.

We learn as new therapists that you ask all the background questions before moving on to the here and now. You screen for addictions, suicidal ideation, dysfunctional family, major mental illness and all those important things. Yes, those are important.

But I am a high functioning woman who makes responsible decisions and does not generally harm myself or others. I don’t need to answer all those questions. It doesn’t help me feel better.

So this got me thinking, if I hate this process, my clients probably don’t like it either.

What if I screened for these important but boring facts in a quick questionnaire and we got to use the therapy time to talk? What if I let the client talk about whatever is on her mind right now?

If you start to sound suicidal or homicidal, I’ll definitely ask you about it. If you tell me about problem behavior, we’ll explore where that came from. If you just need to bitch about your spouse, we’ll go there.

After 20 years of helping people heal from their mental, emotional, spiritual wounds, I know I can weave these in a way that helps you feel heard and supported from day one.

This is talk therapy, but not just talk.

This is healing your trauma,

Calming your anxiety,

Helping you grapple with your addictions,

Skill building for your relationships,

Valuing yourself,

And unloading your burden.

You get to talk until you understand your feelings,

Clarify your wants and needs,

And make a plan if you want to.

You get to uncover your dreams and make them come true,

With a cheerleader, a supporter.

Will I really not ask about your childhood?

Of course I will, but I’ll ask when it fits. I’ll ask when it has the most therapeutic value for you. I know it’s hard to talk about certain things before you feel comfortable with a new person, even a highly trained therapist.

I’m not talking this lightly. I continue to train in therapy techniques, learning all I can about how the brain works. I continue to work on my own growth for myself and to make my work even better.

You may find that you really want to talk about your childhood.

To visit more blogs please, click here.

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whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst · 3 years

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Texts from the Lost Tomb part 6.1

🎶 Back on the bullshit I never got off🎶

Is this another unnecessary story arc?? With three sections??

Yes.

Wushanju Crew Chat

Wang Meng: You know, I’m someone who appreciates consistency in my day. My life is pleasant, very few issues indeed if you ignore the big ones. And yet. Yet here we are. With unresolved messes at the end of a day.

Wang Pangzi: SOMETHIN YOU NEED TO SAY MARY POPPINS

Wang Meng: We need to talk about Huo Daofu and the glittery bead curtain.

Wang Pangzi: MY FAVE TEEN WIZARD SERIES

Wu Xie: did you turn on that suggested word thingy lol

What glittery bead curtain

Wang Meng: I closed the shop at 6:00pm this evening on the dot. I locked all of the doors in and out of the shop very carefully, especially in light of recent events. The hall leading to the back office was empty. I filed the day’s paperwork, updated and sent emails, and then spent an extra hour organizing receipts and dusting. When I came back out, there were glittery iridescent bead curtains over the front entrance to the shop.

What could this mean?

Wu Xie: uh that you need to spend less time at work?

Wang Pangzi: LOOKS LIKE WE GOT ONE FOR THE DETECTIVES. THE MYSTERY OF THE BEDAZZLED THRESHOLD COMMENCES

Wu Xie: I think we can be relatively secure in thinking a glittery bead curtain isn’t a hostile threat

Wang Pangzi: SAYS YOU

I REMEMBER YE OLDE EXPLORATION TIMES HOW FAST THINGS GOT FURIOUS

BEANBAG CHAIRS SET AFLAME AND LEFT ON DOORSTEPS AS A WARNING

GLITTERBOMBS FOR DAYS

PANIC AT THE DISCO

Wang Meng: Ugh, forget it. I should have just taken them down, regardless of who they belong to.

Zhang Qiling: They are not mine.

Wang Pangzi: A BOLD STATEMENT COMING FROM OUR PRIME SUSPECT

SOMEONE QUICK GO DRAW CHALK AROUND THE DOORWAY TO MARK THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

Wang Meng: Do we know anyone who *would* sneak in and put those up? For whatever reason, legal or not? Even as a joke?

Wang Pangzi: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ASKING WHETHER WE KNOW ANYONE WHO IS CHAOTIC, AN OUTLAW, A PRANKSTER AND/OR SNEAKS INTO PLACES

BECAUSE THAT WOULD MEAN OUR SUSPECT LIST IS LITERALLY EVERYONE WE KNOW EXCEPT FOR YOU.

Wu Xie: okay let’s think about this; for starters, I didn’t break into my own shop

Wang Meng: You would be in danger of doing some work in the process, that’s true.

Wang Pangzi: LOL

Wu Xie: ANYWAY let’s keep going. For example, Xiao Ge would only break in somewhere for a good reason. Xiao Ge, did you do this?

Zhang Qiling: No.

Wu Xie: okay who’s next

Wang Pangzi: YOU REALLY MISSED YOUR CALLING IN INTERROGATION TIANZHEN

REALLY PUT THE SCREWS TO HIM

IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE;)

Zhang Qiling: How can we be certain *you* didn’t do it?

Wang Meng: Admittedly that was my guess, too.

Wang Pangzi: WOW I SEE HOW IT IS

BLAME PANGZI AS USUAL

ANYWAY HOW DOES HUO DAOFU FIT INTO THIS

Wu Xie: Oh yeah him! Oops I got distracted

Wang Pangzi: UR ENTIRE HISTORY IN A NUTSHELL

Wu Xie: Ugh fuck off

Wang Meng what abt Huo Daofu??

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wu Xie: oh sorry xiaoge I didn’t realize you wouldn’t have spent much time around him last year

He and I go way back

Zhang Qiling: Way back where?

Babysitters Club Chat

Wang Pangzi: I CANNOT BELIEVE HE IS BUYING YOUR INNOCENT ACT

IF YOU EVER TURN TO EVIL WE ARE FUCKED

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wang Pangzi: YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO HUO DAOFU IS

YOU WERE EXTREMELY POLITE AND BORDERLINE FRIENDLY TOWARDS HIM

Zhang Qiling: I wanted him to feel welcome. I wanted to be sure he understands he has a place here. A specific place.

Wang Pangzi: FOR A SILENT GUY YOU ARE A MASTER AT SUBTLE POWER PLAYS IM ALL TINGLY

LMAO THE IDEA OF WU XIE LEAVING YOU FOR HUO DAOFU IS HILARIOUS AND ALSO NOPE

Zhang Qiling: Rationally, I understand that.

Main Chat

Wang Meng: Huo Daofu is coming for the weekend—didn’t Wu Xie tell you? Wu Xie asked me to check in a week ahead so we could start getting ready for his arrival

Wu Xie: oh yeah I did do that

Wang Meng: Fortunately I know you and so I already went ahead and took care of everything.

Re: the trip

He made a deal with Wu Xie’s doctor that he would do periodic checkups on him here at Wushanju

Bc Wu Xie hates being in the hospital

And frankly the hospital hates him too

Wang Pangzi: FAMILIARITY BREEDS CONTEMPT LOL

I FORGOT HUO DAOFU WAS DOING THAT

A VERY CHIVALROUS GESTURE

WOULDNT YOU SAY

XIOAGE

Zhang Qiling: Is it safe for him to be here with a criminal loose on the premises?

Wu Xie: Right, back to the curtain! Let’s focus on the curtain, hmm?

Wang Pangzi: I AM SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS WEEKEND.

ALSO WE CAN RULE OUT XIAO BAI FOR THE CURTAIN SHE JUST SENT A SELFIE FROM NORWAY COVERED IN GREEN SLIME WITH ZERO CONTEXT, UR PROTEGE INDEED

Wu Xie: okay but who else would do something so oddly charming yet illegal and—wait.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: hey, Glasses hasn’t been in touch lately right?

Li Cu: uh nope

Unless u count the outdated memes

Why, is money or Xie Yuchen missing

Or is this curtain related, I saw Wang Meng’s tweet

Wu Xie: haha no nothing to worry about really

(I mean maybe? but who knows)

Wang Meng is probably just getting a little paranoid in his old age

Li Cu: better than getting reckless and stupid as hell in ur old age

Wu Xie: …hey:(

Unknown Number: Li Cu, we discussed this.

Wu Xie: ????????

Li Cu: *sigh* fine, reckless and stupid as heck

Unknown Number: …close enough.

Wu Xie: EXCUSE who is that

Madame, Sir, Non-Binary Tree Spirit, etc—whomst the fuck

Are you

Li Cu is underage FYI

So Im staying on this chat

Li Cu: okay first of all, it’s not like that

Second of all I’m literally not underage I s2g

u threw the embarrassing surprise bday party, okay so u should remember

And C, that’s my counselor and I invited her. She wanted to meet u and I knew u wouldn’t agree to a visit so I added her to our chat

we have been discussing u

Wu Xie: Oh wow!!!!!!!

What a surprise:)

hi so nice to meet you:)

Main Chat:

Wu Xie: RED FUCKING ALERT

FUCK THE CURTAIN FUCK THE VISIT

IVE BEEN TRICKED INTO FAMILY THERAPY BY A SMUG TEENAGER WHO TEXTS UNKNOWN NUMBERS

Wang Meng: I assume that means something to someone here?

Not my problem? Good.

Wang Pangzi: AHAHAHA GOD I LOVE LI CU

HES LIKE ADORABLE KARMA FOR ALL THE SHIT YOUVE PUT ME THROUGH

IM RAISING HIS ALLOWANCE

Wu Xie: wait i give him an allowance

has he been collecting on two allowances??

Zhang Qiling: Three. I knew about both of yours.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: so uh may I ask your name?

Unknown Number: you can call me Ms. Lee.

Now, if you’re comfortable talking in this format, why don’t you tell me how things have been going?

Wu Xie: oh everything is normal and fine and safe as usual, why do you ask:)

Li Cu: I heard about ur necklace thing. nice of you to NOT mention it.

another dangerous adventure. again. prick.

Ur lucky your cool boyfriend cares about you so much or you’d have already died like ten years ago

Wu Xie: lol try twenty years ago

Li Cu: That isn’t funny.

Unknown Number: …What?

Wu Xie: shit ur right, okay that was a bit glib, my apologies.

…I use humor as a coping mechanism?

Unknown Number: and Li Cu, how do you feel about that?

Li Cu: he doesn’t even know what that phrase means

He doesn’t cope, like ever

In fact

It’s kind of why we met

Which is a funny story in retrospect tbh

Wu Xie: haha what are you talking about sweetie hahaha need I remind you of certain anecdotes that could idk send me to jail maybe lmao

Unknown Number: …You know, perhaps an in-person meeting might be more effective?

Wu Xie: haha such a nice idea but why

Main Chat

Wu Xie: If I go to jail, I’ll have to create alliances for protection, right, that’s how it works on tv

Who do we know who spends time in jail

Other than Hei Yangjing, he’s only ever there for like 12 hours and i suspect he just gets himself arrested bc he enjoys the breaking out process

Also how’s the curtain case coming along

Zhang Qiling: Has someone threatened you?

Wu Xie: well not yet but soon I’m sure

Wang Pangzi: WHERE WAS THIS PARANOIA WHEN WE GOT TAKEN TO THE TEA HOUSE HUH

Snake Eyes Minus Your Fucking Therapist Chat

Li Cu: okay how tf did u pull off spy and undercover shit

u are sus as hell

Wu Xie: damn son is it pick on Wu Xie night

I missed the flyers or I would’ve invited my uncles

Also re: the curtain it’s been mostly solved

Li Cu: I’m not your son, idiot.

Wu Xie: …oh. Sorry, sorry, you’re right, bad choice of words, haha

Forget i said anything

Delete this chat even

Li Cu: shit I meant

Legally, biologically, I meant—

shit

…I turn into an asshole as a coping mechanism?

Wu Xie: oh that’s all okay! I have to go do something else now let me know if you need anything okay kid thanks!

Li Cu: goddamn it calm down who’s the kid here

lemme organize my thoughts so I can articulate my emotions fuckin healthily or w/e

Ugh maybe for like one afternoon we could go to Ms. Lee together? She knows how to word stuff

Wu Xie: uh…okay.

Li Cu: Anyway you don’t need to worry abt jail

As if you would survive prison for one day you’d piss off half the place in like an hour or less

I gave Ms. Lee the heavily edited version of the desert highway to hell roadtrip and i discussed it more in terms of like “nightmarish but still wouldn’t take any of it back”

Well maybe the sand

that shit was everywhere

Wu Xie: oh kiddo. It’s fine, really…You don’t have to explain yourself to me.

Li Cu: no, no it’s just

I do technically have a dad

who is an asshole. Being a son doesn’t really mean shit to me bc it sucked.

So you need to stop backing down just cuz ur guilty abt stuff. I’m really really glad ur not my dad in a good way. Do u get what I mean there

Where’s the mafia widower I followed into hell, huh

Wu Xie: Ur a good kid, despite my influence. I’m really glad you have someone to talk to after everything I…after everything. Wow this talking through feelings thing is kind of weird but nice ur right

Jfc no wonder it took me and xiaoge so long to—you know what, we won’t get into that

Li Cu: ew tmi

Also re: this week’s recent necklace fuckery

I moved my stuff here, I live here now

So you can’t die anymore

Or else…Idk I don’t have a threat planned

anyways abt the curtain

Wu Xie: oh my god, kid…kid you have no idea

I am in tears.

Li Cu: see this is why I can’t be nice to you I can sense the hallmark channel from here

Ugh don’t be sad in ur room that’s dumb

Go hug Pangzi or something

Maybe delete this chat

Or the curtain thing

Focus on the curtain thing

Just stfu and go away

Wu Xie: <3 screenshotting this <3

Li Cu: I take back everything I said. This is why Xiao Ge sleeps on the roof. I hope the ghosts of the Wangs put up that curtain to strangle you somehow. Go die in a stupid way, it’ll suit you.

Wu Xie: lol don’t worry I’m not gonna embarrass you with it or anything

Main Chat

Wu Xie: omg guys look how cute my kid is *sending screenshot*

Wang Pangzi: I MEAN

HE IS WISHING YOU DEATH

BUT SURE

CUTE I GUESS

Wu Xie: no but read the whole thing:):):)

Zhang Qiling: It is indeed very hard to remain angry with you. And you are welcome to join me on the roof.

Wang Pangzi: UH NOPE

NOT WHENI HAD TO BLEACH THE COUNTER IN THE KITCHEN

DONT TRAUMATIZE THE EARLY BIRDS THEYRE ALREADY FREAKED OUT BY U YA HOODIE CRYPTID

Wu Xie: ok true but babe ur like a sexy cryptid

Wang Meng: so, are we just accepting that there is a glittery curtain of unknown origin, and Huo Daofu is going to have to see it while he’s waiting for you at Wushanju bc you’re going to family therapy?

Wu Xie: right

Wang Pangzi: SHOULDA TAKEN EARLY RETIREMENT HUH

Wang Meng: I’m going to go dust something.

Unnamed Chat:

Unknown number: so the curtain…

Unknown number 2: yep, not my best work but I kinda panicked last minute u know

Unknown number: what is in the water at Wushanju that makes everyone dumb and attractive

Unknown number 2: relax they’ll figure it out

#ultimate note #whomst #wu xie #dmbj #the lost tomb #pingxie #iron triangle

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writerwrites · 3 years

Text

Yuánfèn | 01

Ch.1: Depaysement: “The feeling that comes from not being in one’s home country; being a foreigner.”

Summary: When you’ve lost everything and try to run away from your problems, you keep finding a way back to the one person who completely understands. Can you make another person happy with a broken heart?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Chapter Word Count: 3.9k Chapter Warnings: Slow burn, grief, fluff

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist | Complete Masterlist

After the 2012 Battle of New York, you didn’t have anyone to tell you that you shouldn’t start working for Stark Industries. The United States government swore that less than a hundred people had died in Loki’s Chitauri attack on the city you called home, but the loss of both of your parents and your only sibling was still sitting like an anchor of depression on top of your chest. They hadn’t even been in the same buildings and thinking about those devastating hours sitting at home alone waiting for them to come through the door as the wireless network collapsed under the panic of the city still sent you into a week of night terrors. The blood never did wash out of your scrubs, one of the worst days of both your professional and personal life. Still, you didn’t blame the Avengers and thought that if anyone was going to stop the world from falling into that darkness again that it was them. If all you could do was patch up those few people skilled enough to save the world, you would manage your own emotions. Compartmentalizations, that was all you knew after that day.

It was your maternal grandmother, a reclusive woman that retired in Mallorca, that was all you technically had left. With no relationship between the two of you, it was easy to take up the offer to start working for Stark and the team, especially with how busy both Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner had been with their own research. The facilities in Stark Tower were far beyond ‘state of the art’ and you’d been given a team of androids and nurses that helped you build confidence in knowing what you were doing when, in terms of years of experience, you’d been an unlikely choice for the job. It was those years learning under great minds that you really flourished and in a few short years, had found a rhythm to your new normal. Work, apartment, study and practice technique; rinse and repeat.

There was more expected of you at Stark Industries than just the titles of doctor, surgeon, or even therapist. You kept your head down for years, expecting Stark to think he’d made a mistake choosing you. It was Dr. Cho’s encouragement that made you stand a little more straight, a little less invisible, a little more emotionally available. When the team came back from Sokovia with an entire hole through Clint Barton, Dr. Cho took him for tissue repair and you ran your checks on the rest of the team. To your surprise they weren’t in the common area, everyone dispersing and choosing their solitude, uncommon for a mission that should have been deemed a success. You found Natasha first, sitting in a room next to Clint’s. “Hey Doc, I’m all clear. Just need to know how Clint’s doing.”

Pulling up your stool you shook your head. “Nice try, jacket off.” She nodded and you worked her bruised arm to make sure there weren’t any fractures or sprains. “Dr. Cho seemed confident Clint would be fine. You know that as long as you clean up she’ll let you in there. Physically you’re good to go, but what happened out there. Everyone’s run off.”

Watching Natasha’s gaze fall, the swallow at her cottonmouth, and the brief silence it was obvious the injuries were different on this mission. “There were some enhanced kids working for HYDRA, she got in Tony’s head, banged Cap up pretty bad too. I’m fine and we got the scepter, but this one isn’t feeling like much of a success. I just have to process, I guess.”

“Well, I’ll have JARVIS pencil you in for a chat. If you’ve worked through it, great. If not, you’ve got me. I get it, really I do. He’s your person.” Offering up a soft smile you tapped away on the tablet. “Clean up so you can get to Barton.”

“Thanks, Doc. I took it pretty easy compared to Steve and Tony.” She trailed off, offering an apologetic smile before she slipped out of the door.

Pinching your nose, you asked JARVIS for everyone’s location in the Tower and the A.I. made you a map with little blinking lights. Captain Rogers was closest and you went into the gym quietly, hearing the sound of his fists lobbing into a punching bag. Quietly crossing the wooden floor, you knew that with his enhanced sense he already knew you were coming before you walked in, but it didn’t stop you from being cautious. He had swapped the suit for sweats and an undershirt and you could see the crusted over cuts on his bicep and forearms, the stain of blood on his wrapped knuckles. By the time you were within arms reach, tablet and medical bag in hand, he grabbed the bag to stop it from swinging into you. Sweat dripped down his forehead causing his disheveled blonde hair to stick to his skin and you lowered your gaze so you’d stop staring. He broke the silence first, “Did you already check on the others?”

For a moment you were tempted to lie, “Clint is with Dr. Cho. Nat’s patched up. Your turn now, Captain Rogers.” With a firm nod to the bench he surprisingly obliged. As you carefully took off the bandages on his hands, cleaning them up and wrapping them in fresh gauze, you asked about what seemed to have shaken the team up. “What did the enhanced agents in the field do?”

He stiffened, not just from the sting of the astringent on his cuts as you moved up along his arms. “The girl used some sort of mind control. Tony thinks it was a vision, but I got the brunt of whatever telekinesis she has. I’ve never seen anything like it before. The boy that got Clint was just fast, threw him off and he got hit.” Pressing one of Dr. Cho’s artificial skin patched over a deeper cut in his bicep, you took off your gloves and tapped away on the tablet before meeting his eye, wondering if he would continue. “Whatever Tony saw, it’s put some idea in his head and, well, you know how Tony is. There’s a lot of pressure to do things right, to get everyone home. I’m not saying I’m not used to it, but since I came out of the ice I’ve had it relatively easy working with SHIELD and the Avengers.”

A crease formed between your eyebrows as you looked up at him. “I know the feeling.” Letting out a slow, shaking breath you took his hands in yours, just for a moment, “Focus on what you can control, Tony’s not one of those things, but the team could learn from the mistakes made. You can make a training plan to better prepare for another run in with the kids. Until you’ve got that down, I’m sure you’ll be busy trying to find out who they are.”

Unless Steve had looked into the undoubtable file Stark had made on you upon your hiring, there was no way he knew you had lost your entire family years earlier while he was out avenging. Maybe he didn’t know you’d noticed he was a planner. He certainly didn’t know you were too or if he did, he wouldn’t know why. Both of you pulled away simultaneously, neither managing to look at the other. It was isolating, unintentionally so. The dynamics in the Tower between the team and everyone else that worked there made you feel like you had each foot in two different worlds; a stranger to the team in an even stranger land. To your surprise, he stood up and grabbed the scraps of packaging and dirty gloves, “I’ll heal up in a few days, so I promise to stay off the punching bag until then. If I need anything I’ll find you, Doc.”

It was exactly what he needed and proof that he was used to these doctors orders. Despite the job, you’d kept a low profile. None of them really knew you. You were at best ‘Doc’ and at worst completely invisible. You watched him do what the rest did after a check up, walk away without another word. Under your breath you whispered your name- seemingly the only thing you could manage to string together as you felt misplaced. It was worse than homesickness because you knew there was no home to go back to, no friends that knew your former self. Lost in your thoughts you almost didn’t hear the soldier softly repeat your name before tossing the trash in the nearest bin and marching out the door. It closed so loudly behind him you flinched.

Pulling up the map that JARVIS had made for you, you finished your rounds and slipped back into your office to fill out your paperwork, the equivalent of a debriefing report. There wasn’t much to write, not a single one of them told you what they’d seen and it was the psychological, not the physical injuries, Clint aside, that worried you. Your thumb pressed into the smooth metal of the two gold wedding bands that sat against your sternum under your scrubs, then across the links of the gold necklace that held them. It was in the unspoken images the woman had placed in Tony’s mind, the powerful scepter sitting in a lab in the Tower, and the near-loss of Hawkeye, all of it was too much at once for the team. You could hear Natasha’s voice saying she had to process that gave you the sense of being unsettled and separate from one’s place of belonging and it had you reaching for the tokens of your past.

Absentmindedly clicking away from the forms to your email you noticed a high alert message with a heading in Spanish. As you clicked, you tried to switch your tired mind into what had once been your first language but that you hadn’t used in deep conversation in years. Line by line you reread the message, thinking that what you read was simply lost in translation. Right when you were about to ask JARVIS to translate, the door to your office opened. Tony Stark never had the decency to knock so you didn’t know why you half expected him to not read your emails. “Stark, come to tell me what the kid put in your head?”

Tony leaned against the door to your office, whiskey in one hand which was more than a hint that he’d found his own way to cope with what he saw. He tapped on the tech on his wrist and projected an images of your grandmother, her villa in Mallorca, and then swiped to display medical records. “I’ve made arrangements for you to take some time off and handle everything with your family.”

Before you could scold him for reading your email or tell him that he shouldn’t be keeping tabs on you, your phone chimed. The screen lit up with alerts from various apps indicating a flight, Uber, and Airbnb were all set up for you. “Mr. Stark, you didn’t have to…”

“Ah, but I did.” He cut in, wagging his finger at you. “You’ve kept the team in one piece for years, this is the definition of doing the bare minimum. Come back when you’re ready, your job will be here. We might even manage to stay out of trouble while you’re gone.”

“I might actually buy that if it was coming from Cap, but you wouldn’t know how to stay out of trouble if you were given a manual.” Getting out of the chair and picking up your things you hadn’t noticed you’d been crying. Wiping the tears away when you weren’t looking you managed a soft, “Thank you.” By the time you turned around Tony was gone.

Walking the familiar path to the elevator you popped in your AirPods, keeping your head low as you waited for the elevator in case someone tried to stop you or ask you something personal. The doors dinged and opened and you were met with the familiar scent of bar soap and laundry detergent. Reaching for the garage button to see it lit up you pulled your hand back. “What happened to taking it easy?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” His voice was soft, but you kept your head down, music playing quietly in your ears, “What’s this song?” Pulling your phone out of your pocket you showed him the screen, uncertain if you could keep yourself together enough to speak, and ultimately not realizing that you hadn’t cleared the notifications from the screen when he asked with a tone of surprise, “You’re leaving for Spain?”

Fighting the burn in your eyes as your nerves seemed to insist on making you face the reality of this trip you looked up at him, only half way, talking to his chin instead of meeting his eyes, “Yeah, for my grandmother. I have to take care of… I won’t be gone long I don’t think.”

His calloused fingers lifted your chin forcing you to meet his eyes. The bright blue, the concern that melted into sympathy. “Cancel the Uber. I’ll take you to the airport.”

“You don’t have to do that. I haven’t even packed.”

“I want to,” His soft smile made you attempt your own broken smile, causing the tears to trickle down your cheeks. Despite never having a real conversation with you and knowing nothing about you, he wiped the tears away and gently squeezed your shoulder. “What’s easier for you, leaving your car here at the Tower or leaving it at home?”

You didn’t want to admit that the thing that would probably bring you home before the date on your return ticket was the team getting into trouble. “Leaving my car here.”

Giving him directions to your place proved to be an amusing distraction by the third wrong turn. Despite knowing him for three years, it was the first time you really saw him laugh. That melodic, deep laughter was contagious and you found yourself laughing into your hands to hide the ferocious blush that wouldn’t seem to leave your cheeks. With some relief you made it to your apartment and invited him in. “I just have to pack really quick.”

“I could help. Military made me a master at it.” His eyes were wandering over the place, hands in his pockets.

You didn’t need to look at him for more than a second to know that he had no idea who the people in the pictures were or that you’d lost them all. Your stomach twisted hoping he wouldn’t ask, so you thoughtlessly thanked him and led him to your bedroom, only partitioned from the living room with a vintage panelled wall divider. It was a relief you were almost never home, leaving the place fairly clean. Taking out your one small suitcase and your old canvas backpack from medical school you tossed them on the bed, “The longest I’ve been away from work was four days. I have no idea how to fit enough clothes in here.”

“Just set what you want to take to the side and I’ll get it in there. You should grab your toothbrush and computer, chargers and things.” He sat on the bed and picked up the backpack and suitcase, checking out the pockets as you tossed a handful of clothes onto the bed. You’d changed scrubs in front of other doctors and seen most of the super soldier, leaving you unfazed by the fact that he was now handling your intimates. Steve on the other hand was quickly becoming a warm shade of pink as he made quick work of the task at hand. “So...what’s the trip for?”

When Steve looked up from your luggage and reached for the item in your hands he knew immediately, as if he’d forgotten in the laughter on the car ride that he’d found you in the elevator fighting back tears. The black dress was formal but not flashy, a practical length but not something meant for an interview… and you knew that he knew as he took it and set it as delicately as he would have laid the flag of one of his lost soldiers in the hands of a mother or wife. “I just hope it still fits.” Turning away so he wouldn’t see you cry, you held your breath and rummaged through your dresser for something to wear to the airport.

As you pulled a tunic and leggings to your chest you turned around and smacked right into the super soldier. He didn’t hesitate to pull you right into a tight hug. “If you end up needing anything while you’re there just let me know. Anything at all, okay?”

You couldn’t be sure how long he let you cry into his shirt, but you knew it was soaked through when you finally slipped into the bathroom. With a glance at your phone you realized there wasn’t much time left to get to the airport, certainly not to shower. Cleaning your face and changing, you stepped back into the room to find him with his nose in the book you’d been reading that had been sitting on your bedside table, Heart Like a Window, Mouth like a Cliff. “Home is the place, for better or for worse, we learn to love.” You quoted as you picked up your backpack and put it on, “I haven’t finished it yet, but you can borrow it while I’m gone. I don’t think I’ll have much time for reading.”

He stood up and grabbed the suitcase, but not before tucking the book into the pocket of his coat. Both of you managed a smile and he looked around, “Got your passport, ID, and…”

“Yeah, thanks.” You nodded and patted the bag.

“Stop saying thank you for something you’d do if the shoe was on the other foot.” With one last look around your place Steve noticed the plants and a pet fish on the window sill. “Why don’t you leave your keys with me. I’ll check on your fish and water the plants, grab your mail.”

You hesitated, but it wasn’t as if you’d been home often enough to get to know your neighbors. Telling yourself that it was okay to let a coworker be nice to you, that this wasn’t anything like forming an attachment, you nodded and passed him your keys. “I’ll completely understand if it’s an assistant that ends up coming here, but, umm…” Catching yourself from saying thank you again, you stepped into the hall and watched him lock up a bit unnerved by how quickly he realized which key belonged to the three locks.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” It was the first time you’d heard him say your name in full voice, close up and yet it somehow felt softer than it had earlier. You shuffled quickly down the one flight of stairs, but not before Steve took your small suitcase. Those blue eyes watched you the whole way, making you wonder if he thought you were about to snap.

From holding the door open to passing you the auxiliary cable and asking you to play the music from the elevator, the ride to the airport was fairly quiet. Periodically, a song would come on that would choke you up and you’d go to reach for your phone to skip it. Every time, Steve would grab your hand and give it a squeeze, waiting until you’d caught your breath before moving his hands back to the steering wheel. To your surprise he didn’t pull up to the drop off and instead parked and walked with you as far as the TSA would let him go, carrying your small suitcase and giving your hand a supportive squeeze every time you were asked about the reason for the trip overseas. Rather than saying thank you as you prepared to part ways, you cleverly thanked him in Spanish, making him shake his head disapprovingly. “Steve, you’ve been an absolute gentlemen through the hardest night I’ve had in three years. I know you said I would do the same for you, but I guess I never thought anyone at work knew I existed.”

Steve scoffed, “You’re a little hard not to notice. I’ll make sure you don’t feel that way when you’re back.” Your eyebrows furrowed, concerned he was going to scold the team or worse. “Don’t make that face.” He let out one laugh and shook his head and passed you his phone. “Here. I’m getting a lot better with the texting thing. Keep in touch while you’re gone... even if it’s just pictures of food so that I know you’re eating.”

You put your number in his phone and passed it back. “I’m not going to have a problem eating.” When you looked up at him, he seemed unconvinced. “I’m a doctor, knucklehead. I’m trained in the stages of grief.”

He nodded, but you both exchanged the sort of look that said you’d keep in touch anyways, thank you, and goodbye all at once. You wanted to hug him, but felt like maybe you’d used up all the proximity of a fresh friendship’s timer in your fit of tears in your bedroom. Looking back, glassy eyed as you prepared to move through the last line of metal detectors, you noticed he was still standing there, hands in the pockets of his leather bomber jacket as he watched you. Your chin quivered as you fought back tears. No one had stood by you through the loss of your family in 2012, now you didn’t know what you had done to deserve this, but you were eternally grateful for this man.

Your gaze felt to your feet as you fought back fresh tears and then, before you knew it, there he was, arms wrapped back around you, one hand rubbing your back and the other holding your head to his warm chest. He was saying something to the TSA agent but you couldn’t hear it over the fresh bout of weepies. Steve rocked you and then lifted your face in his hands. “What did I say? If you need anything, all you have to do is ask, okay? Don’t miss your plane. You’re going to get through this.”

Then, and you were certain he’d only done this to get your mind off the grief, he placed a kiss to the top of your head. You looked up at him as you slowly untangled yourself from the hug, his eyes stayed on yours but he stepped aside to let you go after another moment or two. You didn’t say goodbye or thank you, words seemed to fail you, and you’d have an entire plane ride to sit confused and overthink how this night hadn’t just turned into some crush on America’s most high profile bachelor. Nearly twelve hours later you made it to your grandmother’s home in Mallorca, emotionally and physically exhausted. As you collapsed onto the sofa, too anxious to roam through the house just yet, your phone chimed. “It’s Steve. I hope you made it to Spain and are getting some rest before you take care of your family. Thank you for the book, I really enjoyed it.”

With a sleepy smile you type back, “Finished already?!? What did you think? I made it. Resting is TBD...”

His reply surprised you, a quote from the book, and you fell asleep before you could muster one last reply:

We cannot know the remarkable velocity at which we pull each other, tear at individuation, until the distance between us curves and no one is themselves.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I would love feedback from you. As my followers know I have an obscenely demanding job, but I always try my best to keep you posted on if there will be a delay in a chapter posting. While I do keep Reader vague, I’m a Latina writer and I write fics I want to read.

Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics

I will be reblogging with tags, send an ask if you’d like to be added either to the series or to my overall tag list.

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #writer: writerwrites

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erin-bo-berin · 4 years

Text

My Heroine

MASTERLIST

This fic was inspired by the song My Heroine by The Maine which you can listen to here, if you’d like. The song I’ve come to realize sounds like it can have multiple interpretations, but I was inspired to use the whole “reader is Spencer’s drug of choice” plot. Not gonna lie it was rough writing about his prison trauma cause I consider it to be one of his biggest traumas, but I kinda wanted this to be a journey from his avoidance of it to his eventual acceptance, all while sex is his “heroin” or the reader is the “heroine” in his story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 4,460

I’m feeling pretty dirty baby

Forgive my sins

I get the feeling you can save me honey,

My heroine

The silver gleam from the sharp blade caught his eye as it hit the light. In any other circumstances, the sharpness of it might actually be considered beautiful.

This was anything but beautiful.

This was horrifying.

The metal was so closely pressed to skin that even a small flinch could draw blood.

“Never ever mess with a man’s stash on the inside. When you do,” the man paused for a second—a millisecond—before the knife sliced across the skin, ripping the hostage’s throat open.

He struggled against the person holding him, his momentary shock and need to help his friend making him fight the grip of the big man, even more.

“People get hurt,” the first guy said, backing away.

The second man let go of him, his friend falling to the floor, choking on his own blood. While they made their departure from the laundry room, he ran to his injured friend’s side, grabbing a towel to hold against the wound.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, kneeling over the only friendly face he’d known in the last weeks.

If he repeated it enough, he’d be okay. He had to be.

“Guard!” he yelled.

His hands cradled his friend’s face as he lay gasping and wheezing, the fear in his eyes matching his own.

In all the years, throughout all the things he saw that most normal people didn’t, he’d never been as terrified as he was right now. His heart raced from the fear and he was breathing heavy as he screamed as loud as he could.

“HELP! HELLLLP!”

Spencer shot up in bed, breathing hard.

His face was sweaty, his entire body was sweaty, in fact. His t-shirt clung to his skin.

He kicked off the covers, sitting on the side of his bed, running his hands through his hair. He tried in vain to calm his pounding heart and slow his breathing.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

A rare burst of anger caused him to shove the object that was sitting on his nightstand, off of it with extreme force.

He glared at the journal on the floor where it had landed haphazardly. He didn’t want to write in it like his therapist suggested. It didn’t help him then and it wasn’t going to help him now.

He rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to erase all the images that constantly played behind his eyes, regardless if he was asleep or awake.

It was the middle of the night, but he knew what he needed. He grabbed his phone off the charger and sent a quick text.

I need a distraction.

The recipient would understand, he knew. It was only 1 am and they were known to be a night owl anyway.

He grabbed a pair of pants to change into and pulled them on in place of his pajama pants. All he had to grab were his car keys and his phone and he was out the door.

It’d only been six months since Spencer had been released from prison in which he spent three long, grueling months in.

He had been framed.

That was the first thing he remembered thinking, even under the influence of heroin and cocaine, in which the unsub had drugged him with. He had been sitting in a prison cell in Mexico, but deep down he knew he hadn’t done anything, even if his mind was scrambled and tried desperately to convince himself otherwise.

Fucking Cat Adams. If she hadn’t been such a psychopath, he might’ve admired her intelligence and skills to pull off something so elaborate, but alas, she was.

Her and her female partner Lindsey Vaughn had been watching him, waiting to strike. All because Spencer had arrested Cat and outsmarted her. It’s where she belonged after all. She’d been a

hit woman, operating in the shadows of the dark web that even experts in the area couldn’t even fathom.

She, along with four other assassins had been working for years before any law enforcement even knew of their existence. Spencer and the rest of his fellow Behavioral Analysis team had been the only ones to get close enough to them. Close enough in fact, to take them all down, every last one.

Cat Adams though, had been the hardest one. She was one to play mind games and she hated to lose. Which she had against him; he’d outsmarted her and she was the one who’d landed in a prison cell.

Of course, being the kind of person she was, she wasn’t going to take that lying down. So, she returned the favor.

He had been determined to help his mother—Diana Reid—who’d been suffering from paranoid schizophrenia all his life, but now had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. He was smart, he was sure he could help her, fix her maybe.

There’d been a plethora of drug trials, medicine combinations, diet changes, but nothing helped. So without his teammates—who happened to be the closest friends he had—knowledge, he had been crossing the Mexico border numerous times to get medicine for his mother, one that was definitely not FDA approved.

It was one of these trips that Lindsey—and technically Cat too—had struck.

She’d dosed him with a spray of scopolamine, pumped him full of cocaine and heroin and murdered the woman he’d been meeting to get the vials of medicine from.

It was bad, really bad. He was the prime suspect in the murder and that is how he ended up in Millburn Correctional Facility pending trial for three months.

Thankfully, the BAU had worked their asses off to clear his name, but in the time spent in prison he had experienced some pretty awful things.

If that hadn’t been bad enough, Cat had orchestrated another evil plan. Lindsey had managed to kidnap his mother.

Less than 12 hours after being released from jail, he was back in another one to face Cat again and play her games.

She had been executed for her crimes and the additional charges she faced for framing him and kidnapping his mother. He wasn’t the least bit remorseful; if anything, he was glad he’d never have to deal with her again. He dealt with her in his mind enough as is.

Spencer didn’t deal with emotions very well, so it was no surprise to himself that he didn’t stop to process his trauma.

Instead, he found other outlets.

He’d known Y/N for several years but had done an awful job of keeping in touch as the years passed. He’d recently reconnected with her before his arrest and then he’d pulled away again.

He felt bad for never telling her until after the fact, but he’d been embarrassed enough.

She was a good friend, one who had said she would do anything to help him if and when he needed it.

That’s how the arrangement began. It’d happened once, by accident, but it had helped him forget everything when he needed it the most.

Which is why at 1 a.m. he was headed over to her house, just to forget everything for a while.

Your hips, my hands, you swing and you dance

Yeah, I’m feeling pretty lonely baby

Just let me in

The door to her apartment opened to reveal her barefoot and in a long, oversized t-shirt.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

He didn’t waste time with the greetings, he kicked the door closed with his foot and grabbed her face, kissing her.

Within minutes he had her pressed up against her door, hands roaming under her shirt as he kissed her hungrily.

He wanted to forget.

Needed to forget.

She moaned into the kiss. Lucky for him, she got horny easily. She was always ready to go at it whenever. Maybe it had something to do with him, although he didn’t know. He never really took the time to dwell on it.

His fingers stroked her bare stomach as his tongue moved against hers. Her hands clutched the bottom of his shirt, pulling away long enough to help him yank it over his head. Her shirt followed suit.

For a while, they stayed there, top halves pressed against one another as their lips moved together in a complicated, yet simple dance.

They made out for a while, while Spencer forced his brain to empty and focus on her. It finally worked as he felt his crotch tighten, his need for her now more than just something to get him through the night.

She led him back to her bedroom and within minutes was kneeling in front of him, pulling his cock out of his pants.

“You gonna be a good little girl and suck my cock?” he mumbled, looking down at her with lidded eyes.

Normally, he would never fathom talking like this. But something had changed within him in the last six months. He was rougher around the edges, he quite literally didn’t give a fuck anymore. Which proved to be true since he quite literally had a fuck buddy—something the old Spencer wouldn’t even consider.

He cared about her, but like him, she didn’t want anything serious, so he never felt too bad taking advantage of her this way. Weren’t they both using each other anyway?

“Your wish is my command,” she purred, making his cock throb even more.

The moment her mouth touched him, his eyes closed in pure bliss, the feeling chasing the nightmares away.

His hand threaded in her hair, guiding her head as her tongue glided and mouth hollowed out, sucking him like her favorite popsicle. She was amazing at this, he definitely had to give her that.

“Y/N, fuck,” he groaned, his hips bucking up towards her mouth.

Her tongue was his gateway to an anxiety free mind—at least for the time being.

He pushed her away after a few minutes. He wasn’t going to last if she kept that up much longer.

With surprising agility, he’d had her from her knees to bent over the end of the bed in seconds.

Their sessions were far from romantic love making—the type of intimacy he knew she deserved—but more animalistic and frenzied.

He knew he was selfish and instead of letting her have what she deserved from a man, he held tight to her like she was his lifeline.

In a way, she had become his lifeline. Things got worse the longer he tried to stay away from her. That’s why he always returned.

Her moans and the slap of their bodies were the only sounds heard in the room as he thrust deep into her. Even as fucked up as he was, he had to be an idiot to not admit that sex with her was incredible. She was incredible.

“Spencer, oh my god, fuck.”

Her words came out in a strangled moan as he’d switched up the movements of his hips. Instead of the fast and harsh thrusts, they turned into slow and deeper ones. He may only be her fuck buddy, but he was still gonna be damn sure she got her pleasure out of it too.

His fingers dug into her hips as he tried to erase the images of his earlier nightmare with every thrust. Usually, it worked. Tonight though, he was struggling.

Instead of disappearing, the memories kept flashing through his head like a silent movie on repeat.

The helplessness everyone felt in that prison.

The fear he felt.

The images of a group of white men who pointed a knife in his face his first full night in prison.

Two, sneering and sadistically joyful faces hovering over him as they beat him to a pulp, smothering his face with a rag.

His desperate decision in doing something so awful that it hurt more men than he intended it to.

The constant paranoia.

The fear he had become a monster.

Every single moment inside he’d spent that he had to make choices he’d never fathomed he’d have to—only to survive.

Delgado.

“Switch it up,” he muttered, pulling out of her, turning her around.

His jaw was tense, his body was rigid. All he wanted was one orgasm to erase his nightmare.

Her eyes narrowed, sensing his tension but knowing better than to comment on it.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered.

She pushed him towards the head of the bed, ordering him to sit against it. He did as he was told, focusing all of his attention on her again.

When she climbed into his lap to straddle him, his breathing had become ragged and he was glad that the stirrings of his arousal were coming back—his sexual attraction to her luring him back in again.

She sank down on him and he exhaled sharply, groaning lowly. The feeling of her tight around him was always like drinking water after being utterly parched.

“You like that?” she purred, her hands resting against his chest, “You like when I take care of you?”

“Very much so,” he growled.

He thread his hand into the back of her hair, pulling her face towards his. He kissed her roughly, his lower half meeting the speed she’d set since she was now the one in charge. Her pelvis grinded against his, giving her even more pleasure, he was sure.

As much as he did this for his benefit, he also had a small sense of pride in knowing he could make her moan and writhe like he did. His hands cupped her breasts, massaging them and she threw her head back with a loud moan.

He could practically fall apart at that sight alone, but he managed to resist.

His lips attached to her throat, sucking harshly, sure to leave a mark. Their moves were frantic as she gripped the headboard and he bucked relentlessly into her.

They both spiraled into ecstasy, not that far apart from one another.

Sweaty and out of breath, she moved off of him, gathering her clothes and tossing his own to him.

“Want something to eat before you go?”

She asked it so nonchalantly it was as if he hadn’t just spent about half an hour buried to the hilt in her.

“No, thanks though.”

He wasn’t one to stay long after the deed, even though a part of him felt like an ass for it. Y/N didn’t deserve that. But if it ever bothered her, she never let on.

She nodded, watching him as he finished pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’m around, if you need me.”

Spencer gave a nod and headed to the door, grabbing his car keys on his way out.

You’re my heroine, but you’re suicide

If I let you in you’ll crawl inside

You save my skin

But you can’t wait to sink in

My heroine

In a way, Y/N had become his drug.

Whenever things got too hard, he went to her. But lately, it was like every time he fucked her, it only left him needing more.

His PTSD was getting worse, the sex was only distracting him for so long, but he was stubborn. He wasn’t going to give her up anytime soon.

The PTSD was also affecting his work and he knew it.

It’d been six months since his release from prison, but he’d only been reinstated for three months. He worked his ass off to get his position back and he wasn’t about to let his emotions get the best of him.

He was currently trying to focus on the geo profile in front of him, but his vision kept blurring. He rubbed his eye, trying hard to block out everything else but this case.

He was becoming increasingly irritable as well.

It had only been a week since his last visit to Y/N, but he was craving her and her distractions so much. His nightmares hadn’t ceased, he was hardly sleeping and his teammates weren’t oblivious.

They knew he was having a hard time readjusting.

Spencer doubted they knew just how bad it really was though.

The map blurred in front of his eyes again, the sight being replaced with moving pictures, his memories being played before his eyes.

Like the time he was so desperate to survive, he poisoned drugs that he was supposed to move, instead of getting involved with the situation.

He ended up causing several men to get incredibly sick—his guilt over that still haunted him at night.

Prison was an incredibly dangerous place and he had been too good of a person to survive as long as he had.

For a while he’d had two friends; Delgado and Shaw.

One was murdered in front of him.

The other turned out to be using him. Shaw ran the entire prison population. He called the shots and people listened to him. But Spencer wanted no part of that.

Making an enemy of Shaw had been deadly. In fact, it came close to being deadly. Spencer could’ve easily lost his life behind bars.

It had been months since he had been locked up, but the sense of helplessness he felt still haunted him to this day. It smothered him like the sweltering heat on a hot, summer day.

He rubbed his palms into his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe while at the same time his heart rate accelerated. His sense of fight or flight was being triggered and he couldn’t stop the sense of dread that was engulfing his senses.

“Spence, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just need some fresh air,” he answered, brushing past a worried JJ.

The moment he exited the crowded police station and the cool air hit his face, he felt fractionally better, but the anxiety still gripped him.

He gripped his tie, yanking at it and loosening it, so he could breathe. The feel of it around his neck had been making him feel like he was suffocating more so than he already had been.

His therapist had told him panic attacks were normal with PTSD, but he hadn’t had them much. This was an exception apparently.

He leaned against the brick of the building and tried to focus on his breathing to bring his heart rate down. After all he’d endured, he wasn’t about to let a damn panic attack take him down.

His eyes were closed as he tried to calm down, so he didn’t hear Luke approaching.

“Reid.”

He opened his eyes, seeing his teammate Luke Alvez, standing next to him.

He wondered how he currently looked through Luke’s eyes. A mess, probably.

Luke didn’t beat around the bush, either.

“Your PTSD has gotten worse, hasn’t it?” he asked, gently.

Spencer shrugged.

“Spencer, if you need to take some time—”

“I don’t need to take time off because I’m fine,” he snapped.

Luke flinched as if Spencer had physically hit him. If anything, he knew that his outburst was just further proof at how not okay he was.

“I need to get back to work,” he mumbled, moving around Luke to head back inside.

He wasn’t sure of anything much lately, but one thing he knew for sure was when they got back from the current case, he was heading straight to Y/N’s apartment.

I feel a little withdrawal baby,

Come pick me up

Took a hit from your level

Now I just can’t get enough

Your taste, my touch

A little bit of love and a whole lot of lust

He was back at her door, knocking.

She opened the door, dressed in another oversized t-shirt—due to the late hour of night—and greeted him with a wordless nod. Somehow, he thought she knew that he was having a bad time today.

He looked like shit, that he knew. His hair was a mess of tangled curls, his eyes were bloodshot and deep, dark bags shined brightly under his face, darker than his normal appearance. His cheekbones were more prominent lately as well since he wasn’t eating much, nor was he sleeping well either.

“How do you want me?” she asked.

Her tone was dull and to the point and threw him off guard for a moment. She’d never made it about her, ever. But now, looking at her, he could see her unhappiness. Whether he caused it or not, he was unsure.

This arrangement of theirs had been only to help him forget. Too quickly, it had become like an addiction for him. She was like his drug. He needed her to forget. But maybe, at the same time, she was tired of trying to help him when he couldn’t even help himself.

He promised himself that this would be the last time. Once more and he’d let her go. He’d let her be free of him. She’d be happier anyways.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said.

He tried to be gentle as he pulled her towards him. As he kissed her, he felt her body melt into his. Maybe he had been imagining her mood earlier.

He tried to focus on getting hard, not on all the horrors that constantly swirled in his mind.

His lips moved swiftly with hers in a kiss that was anything but romantic or gentle. It was lust driven and filled with his own desperate need to be distracted.

She knew exactly what to do to get him in the mood, that’s for sure.

Her teeth tugged at his lower lip gently, her tongue almost the complete opposite of their current actions. It was gentle and hesitant as it met his before continuing its dance with his own.

He pulled her closer, his hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her more roughly, pushing her against the arm of her couch.

In the blink of an eye, he had her turned around and bent over the arm, his hand gliding over the silk material of her underwear. He felt a small swell of pride hearing her moan as he touched her. It also went a long way in helping his own arousal which was now throbbing in his pants.

He was already unbuttoning his pants as he kissed her neck, his hips pressing into hers. The more he got into it, the more he actually felt that he wanted this—that he wanted her.

With one smooth movement, he had her underwear pulled down to her thighs and he entered her with a groan.

But he couldn’t focus.

Somehow, without him realizing it, the memories had slipped through a crack in his mind.

Instead of being there with Y/N, he was back in that cell.

The countless hours sitting in a cell, trying to remember something he never did.

The desperation, the helplessness in that place.

Familiar faces he dealt with sped across his mind.

Malcolm, Shaw, Delgado, Wilkins. Frazier, Duerson, the two men who gave him a beating meant for Delgado.

The fear he felt in those final days when he had no one to trust, when he had to stab himself in the leg to get into solitary confinement, just to stay alive.

The horrible memories were flashing in his head at the speed of lightning.

“Ow! Spencer, you’re hurting me.”

Spencer snapped back to the present, realizing his fingers were creating bruises on Y/N’s hips from his too tight grip.

“This isn’t working,” he said in way of an apology, pulling out of her.

He was already going soft anyway, the previous arousal now completely gone and replaced by his racing thoughts and memories.

“It’s fine,” she muttered, pulling down her t-shirt and pulling up her underwear.

He had just zipped up his suit pants—he’d come straight from the jet—when she spoke again.

“Actually, no. It’s not okay.”

Spencer blinked in surprise at her harsh tone. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her raise her voice.

“I’m sick of this Spencer! I know we started this a while ago for...reasons,” she flapped her hand in midair as if demonstrating all the unsaid things between them.

“But I can’t do it anymore. I care about you Spencer. Honestly right now I don’t know if it’s as more than a friend or just as a friend but that’s another can of worms to open another time. You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep coming to me and fucking me to try and rid your demons. You’ve been through a hell of a lot and you didn’t deserve any of it, but I’m not going to stand her and watch my friend destroy himself because he refuses to get the help he so desperately needs.”

Spencer stood, frozen in place, mouth agape. It was then he saw tears shining in her eyes.

“We have a lot to sort out between us, eventually, but you need to help yourself first,” she whispered, as if feeling defeated by her previous outburst.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say.

“I know facing everything, processing it all is a scary feeling, Spencer. Even if you tried reaching out to a friend to talk through it, that would be a big step. I just...I just want you to get better.”

A single tear slid down her cheek and he did the worst possible thing to do.

He fled her apartment like the coward he was.

•

He didn’t go home.

Instead, he walked around the city as the daylight receded and the sun slipped behind the horizon, saying goodnight to the world until the next day.

He spent a lot of time thinking.

He ended up dashing into a busy diner he came across as the night sky opened up and rain began falling in sheets.

He sat in his booth, absentmindedly sipping on the cup of coffee he’d ordered and watched the rain fall in the darkness outside.

In an ironic way, the weather outside was similar to the turmoil he felt inside.

Just like the completely blackened sky outside, he felt just as dark and empty. The storm was similar to the storm of emotions, memories, traumas he continually tried to squash, all in the wrong ways.

He knew ignoring his problems wouldn’t make them go away; he also knew using sex as a distraction was the worst possible thing to do as well, yet he’d continued to do it and he’d hurt more than just himself in the process.

He’d hurt his friends, who’d only wanted to help, but pushed them away. He’d hurt Y/N, who didn’t deserve to be treated like a plaything, yet he kept coming back, making things worse.

By the time he’d finished his coffee, he decided what he wanted to do. What he knew he needed to do.

I’m feeling pretty lonely baby,

So just let me in

Just let me in

He’d ran through the pouring rain. He didn’t even bother to try to take any transportation. The rain felt like it was washing him clean from the horrors of the last year.

He was back at her door, but this time, for a different reason.

He was soaking wet and felt a lot like a dog with his tail between his legs, but he refused to chicken out once again. So, he knocked.

She answered, this time in actual pajamas rather than the attire she was in hours before.

Maybe it was the expression he wore or something she saw in his face because she didn’t immediately slam the door in his face—something he knew he deserved. She stood patiently, almost questioningly, waiting for him to speak first.

He took a deep breath before speaking the words he should’ve uttered months ago.

“I’m ready to talk. I’m ready to get the help I need.”

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liketheinferno2 · 3 years

Text

SCRAWNYTREEDEMON said: What kind of a superhuman are you?????

I put it down to two factors that typically seem to "block" people that I don't have, one factor that motivates me that other people don't have, and one factor that is just crazy people logic.

1. It's easy to get blocked if you're not making stuff that appeals to you or stimulates your mind, or if you're only making art that doesn't really say anything. Practice that's only technical and not emotional can be draining -- if you're not communicating the ideas you want to communicate, nothing will come out right. In this case I give the very obvious advice of draw what you wish you could draw, not what you already can.

2. It's also easy to get blocked if you fight your process, if art is painful in some way. I'm very easily bored, so I cut out steps where I can, dump techniques I don't like, "cheat" indiscriminately with stock and 3D mockups and filters to avoid doing the boring gruntwork part as much as possible. But even stylistically, if drawing cleanly and neatly is agonising for you, the solution isn't to force it...... maybe you gotta get a little messy.

3. When I was 14 or so I got a grant for a few weeks of art therapy, and I was an anxious kid who was ashamed of my artistic mistakes even though that's the age where you can't really be expected to do ANYTHING well. Therapist was just a gorgeous person who taught me a lot (including the part about not using techniques you hate just because it's expected of you) but what stuck the hardest was that you must be assured of your own skills and talents and capacity for artistic growth before anyone else is, because it's only you that can convince people that your ideas are good, that your art is worthwhile. Every time you cut it down you are telling people not to care about what you have to say.

Conversely, if you own your mistakes, they become part of your style, your charm, and often aren't noticeable. And even if they are, those mistakes don't make the process of creation worthless, it's all stuff you can use for next time. I internalized all this, so I think I'm smart and talented, and even if I'm not happy with something I've made? I can usually leave for a few hours, come back and feel better about it because I've accepted the mistakes are just a part of it now, instead of the typical thing where you'd notice them later and start to feel worse. If I'm not afraid to make something janky or technically worse than usual, if I've just accepted that it'll happen sometimes, I won't get blocked and give up when it does.

4. Art is self-expression, not work, for me, and between being aphantasic and just generally having a stress-filled childhood, I think if I don't find ways to express myself on a near-daily basis, I might actually die.

#replies #scrawnytreedemon #let him speak

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beanie-beebo-writes · 3 years

Text

Call for Action

Series Summary: You finally get your dream job, but it comes with a cost.

Warnings: Description of panic attack

Masterlist

Chapter 2

It was a nightmare that set you off the next day. Even though you couldn't remember it, you knew there was no way you could go into work that day, which was a nightmare in itself. Your second day on the job and your anxiety already had to butt itself in at the worst possible time, of course.

You tried anyway, knowing how vital your job was to the process of the series being made. You didn't even bother with breakfast, knowing it would upset your stomach even further. You took a cup of coffee to go just in case, fearing if you drank it, the jitters would only add to your anxieties.

On set, everybody was mostly in their places except for a few PAs as always. You had forgotten to check your phone, so you went to the front office yet again to pick up another schedule. The day was already turning out to be a wreck and it barely started yet. Thankfully, Paul noticed you weren't in much of a talkative mood and let you be in your thoughts this morning.

The schedule was even busier today, making your heart drop into your stomach. You knew a panic attack wasn't far, but you didn't have much time. You tried to forget about it as you ran to the stage for today. Your heart was pounding, and no amount of breathing exercises could quell the deep settled anxiety. You knew people were starting to notice, but your thoughts were too loud to pay much attention.

"Alright, is everyone in their places?" You called aloud, still out of breath.

"Just about, give us less than five!" An A.V tech said from somewhere.

"That's fine." You said.

It gave you a minute to try and control your racing thoughts, if that was even possible. You bent over and held your knees as you tried to control everything bubbling inside you. Great, look at you. Someone definitely noticed that you're acting weird, next thing you know you'll be outcasted and fired. Hell, maybe even blacklisted if you decide to keep up this charade of job to job. Maybe-

A hand to your shoulder rescued you from drowning to the depths of darkness, startling you in the process. You stood up a little too quickly, starting to see dark spots. You blinked them away and looked up at your savior. And of course, it was Jensen.

"Hey I just-" He began before taking in your appearance. "What's wrong?"

You inhaled a deep breath, finding calm in his voice. "It's nothing, just a bad day." You said.

"Are you sure? Because it seems like a bit more than that." He said.

Your thoughts faintly began to start up again. "No, it's okay really. Get to your mark, Jensen." You said, half reassuring yourself and him.

"Alright, just remember what we talked about yesterday." He said.

You nodded and waited until he walked away to pull out a compact mirror, something you kept on yourself for situations like these. Yes everyone had already been likely staring at you when you had a moment, but you didn't want more lingering eyes if your panic attack had screwed up your appearance.

You wanted to roll your eyes in sheer embarrassment. You looked like you had run a mile and you had begun to cry. You thanked yourself that you didn't wear makeup like other higher ups, as you were sure it would be more noticeable. Before anyone could take notice, you set the mirror back down and made your way to the director's chair.

"Alright, everyone set?" You asked aloud.

You got a bunch of affirmative replies before making the decision to call "action" for the scene to start.

Sam and Dean sat in a motel room, arguing about the aspects of a current case.

"There is no way you're going in on this one solo. Absolutely not." Dean said, throwing his arms up.

"Dean, you said it yourself. Going with two people is just asking for trouble. They'll instantly catch on and it'll blow our cover. I understand needing backup but.. I got this." Sam replied.

"For the last time Sam, no." Dean said.

Interrupting their argument was one of Dean's ringing cell phones; it was Bobby Singer.

"Yeah?" Dean asked.

"Well, I found that information you wanted, turns out they are also killed with silver to the heart." Bobby said on the other line.

"Yeah, that's easy." Dean said sarcastically. "So did you hear about this genius plan of Sam's?"

Bobby sighed tiredly. "What now?"

"He wants to go in under cover, but when guns go blazing, no backup." Dean said animatedly.

"Well, he may have a good point you know." Bobby said.

"Excuse me? Bobby, that's suicide!" Dean argued.

"You watch your tone with me, boy." Bobby said. "You said the place is like an underground bar, right?"

"Yeah but-" Dean began.

"And that means he already is going to stick out like a sore thumb. Two of you would mean you're dead meat. He only needs the alpha and the rest will scatter. Now which plan sounds like suicide again?" Bobby asked.

Dean was silent, knowing there was no use arguing with the aged hunter.

"That's what I thought. You can stand by, just give him a lot of space outside the building. Got it?" Bobby said.

"Yeah Bobby." Dean said defeatedly.

"Good. Let me know how it goes." Bobby said.

"We will, talk to you later." Dean said.

"Bye, and be safe ya idjits." Bobby said, ending the call.

And then everything was quiet, too quiet. You felt a nudge from next to you bring you back to the modern world.

"And scene!" You called out, cheeks tinged slightly pink. "Sorry guys, got swept away there."

"You're good, we can just cut it later in editing." Bob Singer said, standing up from his chair.

"Cool. Alright everyone, settle for a minute and then we'll start scene 26." You called out to the stage.

--------

Before you knew it, lunchtime had rolled around again. This time though, you made the move to sit by Jensen and Jared, who had beat you to the table first. They were in a light conversation before you asked to sit with them.

"Of course (Y/N)." Jared had said.

They were currently talking about some sports team that you didn't follow; you listened in and tried to understand where you could.

"Who's your favorite team?" Jared asked.

"Oh, I don't really follow sports, it isn't really my thing." You admitted.

"Aw really? Bummer, another one." Jared teased.

"Hey, knock it off." Jensen said lightly.

"No, it's okay, I know he's only joking." You said, smiling at Jared.

"Okay, just checking." Jensen said with a wink.

Your heart flipped sideways and missed a beat. If you didn't have anxiety, you would have never distinguished the feelings you were starting to feel towards Jensen. Your feelings with crushes were always different from your anxiety, and yet so similar at the same time. Sometimes you wondered how you could tell the difference.

You still remembered the first time you had a crush. You were a late bloomer, so it didn't happen until 7th grade. You were so confused; anxiety was always something you were used to that when you were hit with all of these feel-good endorphins along with the anxieties, you threw up. Literally, in front of half of the grade and your crush, Nathan Sullivan. You had bumped into him in the middle of your moving-up ceremony in the middle-school hallway. You had wanted to say everything and nothing all at once, and ironically your brain chose to vomit instead. Now that you thought about it, you wondered that's where some of your current anxieties began.

With Jensen, it wasn't that different in a sense. You felt all of the bubbling emotions, the confusing anxieties telling you to either go for it or stay low. But you were past that for the most part. Or maybe it was the fact that Jensen made you feel safe, unlike the other guys. There was just something about him that you couldn't quite understand.

"Hey, have you guys ever dealt with anxiety?" You asked as the conversation headed to a lull.

Jensen swallowed his food before answering. "Actually yeah. About a few years back, maybe even longer, I had this huge fear of what others thought of me."

"Really?" You asked.

"Mhm, anything done on set or stage that was seen as funny to everyone else, was actually a huge anxiety factor for me. I was beyond embarrassed and hated being the one everyone laughed at, even if it was literally for comedy." Jensen explained.

"Oh wow, I never knew it was that bad." Jared said.

"I was too embarrassed to tell you at the time, honestly." Jensen admitted.

"I actually deal with anxiety sometimes too, just not as bad as Jensen." Jared said.

"What helps you guys through it?" You asked.

"Honestly? For me it was therapy, lots of it." He said with a chuckle. "But the main thing I keep with me all the time, is to remember that most people are more likely to be absorbed in their thoughts, than they are paying attention to you or me. At the end of the day, what you do may not even matter to them at the dinner table. And if it does, it does."

"Wow, that's some good advice." You said.

"Thank my therapist for that one." He said.

"I use a lot of deep breathing techniques, it tends to quell a lot of things for me." Jared said.

"Why you ask? Something on your mind?" Jensen asked.

"No, just curious. My one friend back home deals with this kind of stuff and I figured it would help to know." You stretched a bit.

"Ah." Jensen said.

"Well, send her some love from us, okay?" Jared asked.

"Of course." You said, finishing up your lunch.

A beat of silence surrounded the three of you.

"Hey, are you busy later?" Jensen asked. "I know you're technically my boss and all.."

You looked up from your food and almost choked. Was Jensen asking you of all people, on a date? This had to be a misunderstanding. Yet again, Jared was practically all over Jensen, just by looking at him with his head in his hands.

"Huh? Uh, no, not really. I usually just pass the time by watching netflix or something I guess." You said.

"You want to grab a bite?"

You felt the tips of your ears burn like a hot stove.

"As a… date? Or…?" You asked.

"Depends."

"On?"

"Well, do you want it to be?" Jared asked.

"Would it even be appropriate? I mean.. Like you said, I'm practically your boss, Jensen." You said.

"Don't see why it wouldn't be. It's not like you're doing any special favors to get me top role or anything." Jensen said with a knowing smile.

You smiled back and lightly rolled your eyes. Oh, this man is definitely going to be something if I date him. How could you say no?

"Yeah true." You said, probably still with a red face. "Sure, let's make it a date then."

"Yessss!" Jared whispered.

He did a silent victory dance on the way to the trash can and shut the trap closed with his hip. He strode proudly all the way back to the stage as if his son had won a competition. Jensen put his hands over his face a moment and exhaled lightly.

"Just ignore him." He said, muffled behind his hands.

"Couldn't if I wanted to." You said with a giggle.

#jensen x reader #Jensen Ackles #jared padalecki #spn reader insert #call for action series #call for action

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idontknowijuststartedsomething · 3 years

Text

Gravity, Ghosts, and Gems

Part 3/???

The New Kids

Part 3

Steven could see his answer did little to reassure or calm his trembling roommate. “Hey, I’m still me. A-And I’m not going to hurt you! I just..... Let’s just talk.”

“So, how did you get white hair and a cool jumpsuit?” Steven tried to talk to Danny more casually, as he could see his panic from their shared dream had not gone away.

“Well, to understand you would first have to know my parents are ghost hunters. Or ghost scientists they never really make it clear.”

“Wait, like spooky horror movie dead people ghosts?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait ghosts are real?!”

“Yes” Danny’s voice was growing more annoyed.

“I’ve gotta tell Sadie” Steven whispered to himself, stars in his eyes.

“What?”

“Uhhhh nothing. Continue.”

“So yeah my parents study ghosts. And for years they’d been working on a portal to the ghost world. They wanted to prove to everyone that they weren’t crazy, and they also just wanted to learn everything about ghosts.” Danny became less tense as he told his story. He’s had to keep it a secret for so long that now telling anyone felt like a major relief. “So after like years they finally got it into working order. Except it didn’t turn on. No matter what they tried it just wouldn’t go. They were really bummed and got discouraged for a while, but me and my friends still wanted to check it out.”

Steven listened intently as Danny told him about the accident. Sam, Tucker, the jumpsuit, the flash. Everything just sounded so painful. Part of Steven just wanted to reach out and hug Danny, but Steven restrained himself because he knew they weren’t there yet. After all Danny probably still though Steven was a big scary pink lady. So Steven just kept listening as Danny told him everything. About Vlad. About his parents hunting him. About Danielle. About his older self. By the time Danny had gotten to him revealing himself to his folks, Steven was ready to cry. Steven could never imagine how much pain Danny had gone through. And yet he could see it vividly. He could see it in his own life story, stretched out over years and galaxies, and only now being properly dealt with between him and his therapist.

“So yeah, I’m half ghost and I protect the world. Well mostly my town but you get the point. And nobody knows but my family and friends. And I guess you, now. So what’s your story. Did your parents make a portal that fused you with some pink lady?” Danny had said that jokingly, but Steven’s emotions were still weird, both from hearing Danny’s story and now having to tell his own.

“Well, I’m half gem, so I’m kinda like you, but my gem powers didn’t come from an accident. You see, my mom was a gem who...”

“Wait, wait, wait. What are gems? I know you have that thing on your stomach but like, what does it do?”

“Ok so now I have to go way back. Gems are an alien species whose physical forms are just projections from their gemstone. All gems have one, and they can all do different things. Some gems also come together to make...”

“Wait back up. You’re saying you’re..... an alien?”

“Well technically half alien on my mom’s side. But I’ve spent my whole life here on earth.”

“So aliens actually exist?” Danny could barley process what he was hearing. Every NASA scientist he had looked up to was wrong. All of their data and calculations were disproven by the mere existence of this kid standing infront of him. Could he be the first junior astronaut to make contact with alien life?

Danny could tell that Steven was waiting for him to stop being confused. His look said it all. So Danny put back on the chill persona he had had before and let Steven continue. He was gripped by the rich tapestry Steven had woven with his words. A rebellious princess(that’s who the big pink lady was), a secret taken to the grave, a war for the fate of the planet, a tale of love found and love lost. All to produce the spunky little kid who was Steven Universe. He told Danny about his similar face offs with villians of his own kind. About the new family he found along the way and how he saved two planets with love. Steven told Danny a bit about his breakdown following Homeworld’s reconstruction, but left it very vague. He mentioned that he hurt Jasper and that he reached his breaking point and blew up in front of his family. But he just left it at that. At least for now, Danny didn’t need to know about the monster that terrorized Beach City. At least for now, Danny could see him as kind of normal.

“So that’s basically it. And then I wanted to experience life outside of gem stuff. So I got in my car and started exploring and being more human. And then I found this job offer online and though it would be a good experience for me, and so here we are.”

“That’s wild.” Danny said, reacting to Steven’s life story. “And that’s kinda what happened to me to. I wanted to get away from ghosts and stuff for a bit. I found this job offer and my parents assured me that they could take care of any ghost business in town, so I packed some stuff and flew here last night.”

“That explains why you were so tired today!”

“Yeah. Even at 112 mph, Illinois to Oregon is a long trip. And I was carrying a bunch of my stuff and had to avoid any major city areas.”

They both laughed, their defenses completely down, as they recognized a trust between them that hadn’t been there before. Neither of them had got entirely comfortable when Steven remembered another thing he had noticed earlier.

“Did you see the room of that Dipper kid who lives here? His walls were covered with conspiracy and supernatural related stuff.”

“Yeah. I was able to recognize part of my parents in that kid.” At that thought Danny came to a realization. “Which means we probably shouldn’t tell him about any of this.”

“Yeah.” Steven agreed. “He’s either gonna want to ask us a million questions...”

“Or strap us down to a table and rip us apart molecule by molecule.” The tone of the room got considerably darker, as Danny realized what ‘being like his parents’ actually meant. They both sat silently for a few moments, neither knowing how to respond. Finally, Steven spoke.

“So no one finds about about us? At least until we know we can trust them. Like be 100% certain that they’re gonna be cool with us” Steven was trying to stear the conversation into a more hopeful direction, and it kinda worked.

“Yeah” Danny answered, lifting is head, a slightl smile now returning to his face. “Besides, is not like there’s evil ghost or aliens running around here. In Gravity Falls. So we should have no problem keeping our powers on the down low.”

“Yeah” Steven laughed. “Everything seems normal here. What do we have to worry about?” With that, both decided to finally go to sleep, secure in the knowledge that nothing weird happens in Gravity Falls.

Right?

#steven universe #danny phantom #danny fenton #fanfic #phanfiction #gravity ghosts and gems #gravity falls #invader zim #don’t worry dipper and dib will get here #eventually

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jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 3 years

Text

Alma Mater (S2, E3)

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:20 - There’s no way Martin is actually going to escape Claremont until AT LEAST the season finale.

0:55 - Anyone else annoyed that Ainsley isn’t in Martin’s fantasy? I mean - it’s completely in character but it still pisses me off.

1:49 - I’m sorry - what? How will pouring Malcolm a drink help this fictional situation?

2:00 - Malcolm ruining Martin’s fantasy dream is honestly such a mood.

2:10 - “That little kill joy.” haha

2:21 - Malcolm has a stationary bike. Of course he does. But why does he listen to the personal trainer lady (who I assume was a recording programmed on the bike)? Malcolm doesn’t seem like he needs praise or motivation to exercise. He probably does it the way I do - mindlessly as a habit. A habit built from the knowledge that if I skip a morning workout I will feel more unsettled and anxious than usual before lunch....and don’t even get me started on how quickly my depressive thoughts escalate.

2:24 - ....I’m still convinced/hoping that this is a false memory Martin has planted in Malcolm. I’m all for Malcolm whump and Malcolm trauma...but the thought of Gil, the team, and Jessica finding out that Malcolm committed a crime terrifies me. I don’t want him to go to jail. I don’t want Gil and the team to turn their back on him. I don’t want Jessica to blame herself (more than usual).

2:39 - I love that the “Malcolm pretty much only feeds himself liquorice and lollipops” is still canon this season.

2:42 - OMG. That is not a helpful affirmation. Like maybe for anyone? If you’re traumatized/depressed/anxious “consider the past and you shall know the future” is not comforting or inspiring. It’s the opposite.

2:48 - I’m loving how confidently Malcolm has been shutting down Martin’s manipulation. #soproud

2:52 - Anyone else super upset that Martin is the person with whom Malcolm discusses his mental health the most honestly?

3:12 - Check out the way Mr. David looks at Martin here. Does Mr. David already know about Endicott? Or is he just like, “Bitch, spit it out so I don’t have to keep guessing your current family drama.”?

3:17 - “Let’s have another session today.” .....Does Martin really think he’s Malcolm’s new therapist? DOES MALCOLM THINK THAT? IS THAT WHY HE ISN’T SEEING GABRIELLE? HAS MARTIN MANIPULATED HIM INTO THINKING THAT HE DOESN’T NEED GABRIELLE?!?

3:22 - hahahaha OMG. Mr.David is so done with Martin’s theatrics.

3:32 - Ok so two things:

Martin’s insight on Malcolm’s mental health/coping mechanisms is disturbingly on point. Almost like he’s an attentive, caring, father (which he isn’t).

How long was Gil outside Malcolm’s door before he knocked? Do you think he overheard Malcolm’s side of the conversation? I kind of hope he did. But only if it means I get to see Gil asking Malcolm about it.

3:50 - “Put me on speaker.” I’m torn. Part of me is so proud of Malcolm for denying Martin’s need for attention....but part of me is living for a Martin/Gil showdown where they fight over Malcolm in front of Malcolm.

3:54 - Ok. So Gil was a jerk last episode but I forgive him. Gil just showed up at Malcolm’s apartment to tell him about a case instead of calling Malcolm. Gil knew Malcolm would be upset. Gil knew that Malcolm needed to hear this in person. <3 My heart is full. <3

4:12 - Concerned!Gil is everything. Look at how much he cares about Malcolm and what this case will inevitably bring up for Malcolm. You can almost see how badly Gil doesn’t want Malcolm on this case.

4:13 - “What if I said I need you?” Damn. Gil knows. He knows that Malcolm desperately doesn’t want to ever disappoint Gil. Gil is Malcolm’s hero and, when Malcolm is thinking straight, he’d do anything for Gil.

4:17 - <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 Gil looks so sad when he notices Malcolm’s hand shaking. Can a heart simultaneously break and heal?

4:23 - Oh yeah. Gil definitely wanted Brumback dead for what he did to Malcolm. He doesn’t even try giving Malcolm the “you’re being insensitive” look.

4:42 - Wow. That school is nicer than my university.

4:47 - Do you think Gil’s been to the school before? To visit and/or pick up Malcolm? ....I really want to believe he did. Gil looks like he’s leading Malcolm through campus. Gil looks like he’s familiar with the campus. Surely that means he visited Malcolm there. Right?

5:17 - So...was the “office under water” thing officially a prank? It’s brutal. Forget the murder, Brumback would’ve expelled kids for that prank.

5:27 - I love how Dani looks at Gil for clarification here. She’s like, “Malcolm is upset, ranting, and making no sense. I’m not going to set him off further by asking more questions. But I need to know what the hell he’s going on about.”

5:40 - Soooo is JT texting Dani? Or is Tally? I really hope it’s Tally. I hope Dani’s texts are all reading something along the lines of “He won’t stop pacing and panicking. If he doesn’t calm down I’m going to slap him.”

5:43 - I love the look of disbelief that Gil shoots Dani when her phone goes off. haha

5:52 - hahaha Gil so heard Edrisa the first time. He was just giving her a chance to conform to professional social standards.

6:03 - hahahaha OMG. Edrisa is a treasure.

6:56 - awww Malcolm, baby. :( This boy has so much trauma. I love it.

7:07 - I’m assuming Malcolm’s ‘high school’ was grades 10-12 (not 8-12 which is common in the area of Canada where I grew up) so that means Tom Payne is currently being passed off as a 15-16 year old. It kinda works. But ngl - I spent most of this scene thinking “could they not hire a kid because of COVID?”

7:12 - I’m not actually mad that Tom Payne was allowed to play high school Malcolm though. His performance in this scene is really moving. “Be someone new.” :( <3

7:45 - Sooooo Malcolm changed his name before he was legally an adult. If it’s his legal last name (we see “Bright” on pill bottles in S1 so it’s his legal name now at least) Jessica had to have signed the paperwork. Damn. I wish I was there to see that process regardless of when it became his legal last name.

7:49 - Baby Malcolm looks so comforted by Martin’s acceptance of his new name and new school. It breaks my heart.

8:00 - Wait. There was a teacher who liked Malcolm at this school? The son a serial killer? AND the teacher recognizes Malcolm 15 years later?!? Nah. I don’t buy it. I love Malcolm but I feel like the teachers would’ve avoided developing any sort of relationship with Malcolm even if they didn’t have a problem with him.

8:05 - Hold up. This school is so fancy. Are you telling me they don’t have outdoor security cameras? Surely those would’ve told you who the suspects for the desk thing were at least.

8:15 - awwww poor Malcolm looks shattered here. :(

8:31 - “Easy. Let’s keep an open mind.” That is pure Dad!Gil energy and I’m here for it.

8:39 - Of course. Of course Jessica is involved in the rich school.

8:51 - I’m on Gil and Malcolm’s side here. Jessica is putting her reputation over Malcolm’s mental health. Shame on her. No no. I will not stand for this - and neither will Gil. Damn. Look at how pissed he is on Malcolm’s behalf. <3 So sweet.

9:06 - “Pop-pop’s aquatic center”!?!? Soooo is Pop-pop Jessica’s grandfather or Malcolm’s? Either way give me more information about the extended family. Are they dead? Did they disown them after the Surgeon business? I WANT ANSWERS FEDAK.

9:15 - I swear. Malcolm is the best son/brother ever. The sacrifices he makes for his Mom/sister are unreal. Also - how much do you want to bet that Malcolm was thinking about the Endicott murder coming out when Jessica said, “how soon until they connect that back to me?”. Malcolm looks so sad here.

9:23 - Nah. I don’t like Delaney. Even on the first watch I was put off by him. Something about him just creeps me out. He’s showing a weird amount of affection for Malcolm 15 years after Malcolm finished school. IDK maybe I was just upset that someone was trying to mimic Gil’s relationship with Malcolm?

9:27 - oooooooohhhhh Mom and Dad are fighting. hahaha Malcolm looks so uncomfortable. Gil looks livid. Is Gil pissed because Jessica dumped him or because she totally just neglected Malcolm’s well-being for her own? Probably both. Either way, it’s endlessly entertaining.

9:53 - I’m on Gil’s side here. She dumped him (like a f**ing moron) because she “doesn’t want to hurt him” and because she’s “broken” and “cursed”. Yet - she manipulates her way into cases. Making her business Gil’s. Gil should be pissed - she broke his heart. Again. Like he’s literally been choosing to hang out with Malcolm, Jessica’s (let’s face it) broken son, for more than 20 years. Jessica’s crazy if she thinks that she’s going to get Gil killed or hurt just because she’s a Whitly. Malcolm’s technically a Whitly - Gil hasn’t died yet.

10:15 - “Not usually.” Dang. That was icy.

10:50 - Yo this is one messed up bible study. Take it from someone who has attended many young adult/teenage bible studies. This is crazy. Usually it’s: read the bible for 5-10 minutes as a group, discuss how you interpreted it for 15-20 mins, pray as a group for 5 mins, then like an hour of tea/coffee, cookies, board games, and general chatting about normal stuff like romance, school, and personal drama.

11:44 - “Poor Tally.” hahaha I’m willing to bet that Tally is texting Dani - not JT. I just can’t imagine a panicking, first-time father, texting his little sister with accurate medical details about his wife’s pre-labour experience. He’s probably way too panicked to remember the medical jargon that is “foley ballon”.

12:00 - I’ve watched this scene about 30 times. I’m in love with it. Tom Payne’s performance is haunting and I’m a sucker for emotional whump. I love how Dani is concerned about Malcolm but respectful enough to pry until he shuts down. I love Malcolm’s little speech about the hand tremor (even though it doesn’t make sense because baby Malcolm’s hand was shaking when Shannon interrogated him - but that’s a whole different can of worms I’m not going to rant about).

12:39 - Does anyone else think it’s weird that there’s a bolt on the closet door? Why isn’t there a lock in the door handle like every other interior school door? I mean, I guess it’s because they can be unlocked from the inside and Nicky would’ve needed a key....but still. The things I forgive for the sake of plot.

13:25 - Damn. Brumback was a real jerk. “I know what you really are.” Do you know how painful that would be for Malcolm to hear? Regardless of what he almost did to Nicky? Everywhere Malcolm goes people accuse him of being just like his father. Is it surprising that in a moment of weakness, with teenage hormones, Malcolm snapped and said, “Eff it. They think I’m a murderer anyways.”

13:26 - OMG. How bad were the kids at this school?!?! Brumback expelled so many kids. Holy hell. Also - Brumback is wearing a wedding ring. Did he get divorced before he died? Did his wife pass away before him? Why was his family not part of this investigation at all?

13:31 - Brumback writing “Malcolm Whitly” instead of Malcolm Bright is....ouch. I just. My heart breaks for Malcolm.

13:37 - OMG. Traumatized people going through PTSD flashbacks should not be unattended next to a pool of water. Honestly - I thought our boy was going to drown. Which the whumper in me would’ve loved but also I don’t think it was right for the plot on this one.

14:38 - Martin is such a liar. He definitely thinks he’s God’s gift to the Earth.

15:02 - Martin knows a lot about the security zones. Something tells me this isn’t the first time he’s contemplated escaping.

15:04 - Oh shit. Daryl has an imaginary cell mate. I know that’s a serious mental illness and I shouldn’t laugh but OMG. The moment Martin realizes that Daryl is delusional is priceless. hahahaha

15:25 - How much to do want to bet Mr. David has a red key card? Martin’s grin confirms it.

15:40 - Wow. The classrooms in this high school are really big. I would’ve thought this fancy private school would have smaller class sizes.

15:49 - YES. OMG. Malcolm walking into that classroom soaking wet is golden. *chef’s kiss* Look at Gil’s face - it’s a mixture of concern and disbelief. He’s soooo worried about Malcolm right now. <3

16:07 - It’s a good thing Malcolm’s rich because that phone is never going to be useful again.

16:20 - ahhahahaha OMG. WTF. Gil’s little twinkle-finger wave is hilarious.

16:38 - This whole scene Gil is just staring at Malcolm with so much concern. It warms my cold, dead heart. <3

16:46 - Do you think Malcolm looked for his name in the book? Is it the same book? Do you think Brumback expelled enough kids that this is a new black book?

17:08 - Ok. So I immediately don’t like Louisa. That level of confidence and self-absorption is very unattractive.

17:25 - Louisa volunteers in the library. That’s how she got access to the poison.

17:35 - “Dude. You’re dripping.” “Yeah. Water does that.” Can Malcolm be this sassy every episode?!? I’m living for it.

17:57 - “Boys right? Oof” haha I love Malcolm talking to teenagers. I want it in every episode. ALSO - the jock’s story about the two girls - I’m sorry, but I just don’t see how that an expulsion level offence unless the kid is leaving something out of the story.

18:31 - Of course they talked about this before they came there. DELANEY WARNED THEM. But mostly to keep his little cheating ring hush hush.

18:55 - And just like that we’ve been blessed with Malcolm in casual clothes. Wish I could’ve seen Gil question Malcolm’s swim though.

19:26 - OMG. Edrisa is such a cute little nerd. <3 Protect her at all costs.

20:00 - Gil and Jessica arguing is amazing. I’m loving it and hating it. Because I want them to live happily ever after in a fairytale world but I do enjoy the drama.

20:06 - hahaha look at how Jessica just pushes Gil to the side and plows on to Malcolm. This woman is fierce.

20:11 - Yes. Yes Malcolm. Tell Mom she has unrealistic and insensitive expectations of you.

20:18 - What kind of school is this?!? The board of trustee members are buddy buddy with the students?!?

20:22 - “They’re all from impeccable families.” “So was I” Mic drop. Watch Malcolm drop the truth bombs. This is maybe the best line in this episode.

20:30 - “And just like you - none of them is capable of murder.” .....well this sentence is going to come back and bite Jessica in the butt later this season.

20:44 - The fact that these kids think Edrisa is a freshman is actually hilarious to me.

20:50 - OMG. “Welcome to boarding school. Bitch.” I was ready for Louisa to die right here. She just punched Edrisa and then called her a bitch. No no no. Edrisa is a quirky treasure and we must protect her.

21:00 - Damn. I wish we got to see the team’s reaction when they found out one of their teenage suspects assaulted their favourite M.E.

21:10 - Why is it soooo attractive when Malcolm wears casual shirts under a suit jacket?

21:53 - “My vote is for Louisa. The girl’s got a heavy fist.” hahaha I love Edrisa. SO SO much.

22:05 - Soooo is Jessica some sort of consultant now? They used her to interview cult extractors and now rich, teenage murder suspect. Is she the “rich person investigator” now?

22:11 - Does Louisa know that Malcolm is Jessica’s son?

23:04 - Louisa is a bad liar.

24:15 - Delaney should be ashamed. He told Nicky who Malcolm’s dad was. He is the reason that Malcolm got locked in a closet for 3 days. He is the reason Malcolm is claustrophobic. This man should have his teaching license seized and be charged with child abuse. What he did was absolutely despicable.

24:35 - “My mom’s sending a car.” It’s nice that Malcolm doesn’t always refer to Jessica as “mother”

25:00 - This is heartbreaking. I hope Nicky got expelled. If he didn’t - Malcolm experience a bigger injustice than we were lead to believe. Look at Nicky walking away from Malcolm. That kid has no remorse. I don’t blame Malcolm for seeking revenge. Malcolm keeps getting burned by people. Something had to give eventually.

25:30 - The biggest crime this episode committed is that we only saw Malcolm getting comfort from DELANEY. Honestly. Where was my papa Gil moment?!? Or a Dani+Malcolm moment?!?

25:51 - I doubt Delaney tried to stand up for Malcolm. He probably encouraged the expulsion.

26:05 - “Please.” Yikes. This has been torturing Malcolm for years. Who sold him out? Who ruined his last chance at a happy childhood? Who allowed him to be traumatized further? Who gave him the hand tremor (assuming we’re ignoring the S1 canon).

26:38 - What. A. Getaway. This school is full of crazy rich kids.

26:55 - “This time”?!? Doesn’t Martin always root for the killer?

27:05 - I love everything about this interaction between Martin and Malcolm. I love how upset Malcolm is. I love how Malcolm calls out Martin for being a bad dad. I love that Martin just sits there and takes it. Martin even looks a little sad. It makes me wonder - did Martin know about Delaney’s cheating ring? Did Martin manipulate Delaney into thinking Malcolm was a threat and convince him to get Malcolm expelled? I can see Martin doing it. If for no other reason than to tarnish the “Milton legacy” at Remington.

28:04 - UGH. I want to see how Malcolm got out of that closet SO BAD. Who found him? How close to death was he? PLEASE TELL ME IT WAS GIL. Why didn’t Jessica investigate when Malcolm didn’t show up at the Hamptons as planned?

28:13 - “How you wish that were true.” Ouch. Martin is a real asshole. He knows just how to destabilize Malcolm’s confidence.

28:56 - Even now, Martin is trying to manipulate Malcolm. Their relationship is so dysfunctional, beautiful, heartbreaking, and complex. I could watch them interact forever.

29:31 - Look at that little head shake from Mr. David. Martin’s cell is not soundproof. Mr. David heard everything. Mr. David always hears everything. Mr. David knows about Endicott. Istg.

30:12 - Delaney is a scumbag. He might not be a serial killer but he’s another male, adult asshole who gained Malcolm’s trust and then stabbed him in the back.

30:37 - OK. So I know, I’ve been hypothesizing that Mr. David is an ally to Martin’s crazy schemes, or that he worked for Endicott, or that Martin is going to try to kill Mr. David. BUT YO. IF MR. DAVID DIES I WILL THROW HANDS. HE’S SUCH A GREAT CHARACTER.

31:40 - This is a weirdly fancy room for video games. Also I miss JT. He should be here. I wish he was here. He would’ve been so good in this episode. Can you imagine his facial expressions and comments when he finds out little tidbits about Malcolm’s teenage past?! It would’ve been comedic GOLD. Couldn’t Tally give birth during a less interesting episode?!?!

32:15 - I’m convinced that Malcolm isn’t actually upset that Delaney’s crime is running the cheating ring. I think Malcolm’s upset because he just realized the only positive male role model (aside from Gil) that he had as a teenager was a manipulative liar who betrayed him. Malcolm just realized that this dude never cared about him and he’s crushed.

32:27 - Wait. Does Delaney make the kids pay him for the answers? Because that actually makes sense.

33:08 - This whole scene where Molly runs out of the back room and Dani says, “who are you running from?” is really cringey to me.

33:19 - Oh great. Now the guy who betrayed Malcolm is touching the back of Malcolm’s neck. JUST LIKE GIL DOES. Well....something tells me that’s going to taint how comforting Malcolm find’s that gesture coming from Gil for a while. Malcolm just isn’t allowed to be happy. Even for a moment. It’s a shame. I also love it.

33:40 - Awww...poor Malcolm is claustrophobic and he gets locked in the vault with a dying man. Look how desperate he is to get out of there - to save Delaney and to save himself more mental distress.

33:53 - Look at Malcolm panicking here. He tries to hide his panic as concern for Delaney but he’s clearly freaking out about being trapped in a smallish space.

34:25 - Yep. Malcolm didn’t think he could trust Daryl because Daryl is delusional. SO Martin threatens to murder Daryl and then metaphorically stabs the dude in the back. This is perfectly in character.

35:25 - Damn. Louisa is seriously mentally ill. She has zero empathy.

35:57 - Malcolm projecting his mental issues on the killer du jour is always simultaneously cringey and amazing to me.

36:26 - I’m not going to lie. Daryl screaming “He’s a Judas” as he was dragged away was hilarious.

37:04 - Holy shit. This took a turn. I’ll be honest - I don’t blame Malcolm for almost killing Nicky. But it does scare me.

38:35 - That story must have been haunting Malcolm for 15 years. I bet you he’s never told anyone not even Gabrielle. He’s had nightmares about it. Because he knows he’s capable of murder. Just like Martin. That terrifies Malcolm more than anything in the world.

39:12 - sooooo Delaney just heard that whole confession. Delaney lives. Something tells me this is going to be a problem for Malcolm when Endicott’s murder is investigated later in the season.

39:35 - “Are you insane?” “Maybe.” That’s it. That’s the show.

40:00 - Two questions: 1) Where is Dani? 2) Why does Gil not know where Malcolm is right now?

40:22 - Look Fedak screwed us over. We didn’t get to see Gil find Malcolm half-dead on the floor of that library vault. BUT this scene almost makes up for it.

40:24 - Malcolm wrapped in a blanket is so so cute. I just want to hug him. I want Gil to hug him. Ugh. <3

40:28 - I love that you can tell that Malcolm and Gil have had this sort of discussion about Malcolm’s sense of self-preservation numerous times in the past. Gil looks sooooo pissed. And concerned.

40:35 - Malcolm’s imitation of Gil makes me so so so so happy. I just. Ugh. It’s adorable. Look at how exasperated it makes Gil. Look at Dani’s reaction to it. This might be the greatest “found family”. scenes this show has given us to date.

40:55 - “All in a day’s work.” Oh yeah. Gil is super concerned about Malcolm’s mental state. Gil is Worried. I want to see more of it.

40:57 - I love that Dani just can’t wait anymore. She’s so precious. Look at how excited she is about JT’s baby. <3 I’m in love. She’s so soft here - it’s beautiful and rare for this show to let the audience see this side of Dani.

41:00 - GIL’S REACTION. <3 OMG. I LOVE HIM. HE LOOKS SO HAPPY. I HOPE JT AND TALLY DUB HIM THE BABY’S UNOFFICIAL GRANDFATHER.

41:02 - MALCOLM’S FACE. <3 <3 <3 IS THIS THE FIRST TIME HE’S EVER SEEN A BABY? HE’S SO ENAMORED WITH THIS CHILD ALREADY. LOOK AT HOW MUCH MALCOLM ALREADY LOVES JT’S KID. <3 <3 IT’S SO SOFT. I LOVE IT SO SO SO SO MUCH.

41:22 - I can’t decide about this scene. On one hand - I think it’s really mature of Malcolm to apologize to Martin. It’s a courtesy that Martin doesn’t deserve. ON THE OTHER HAND - I wonder if Malcolm is only apologizing to throw Martin off balance. I wonder if this is Malcolm’s attempt to manipulate Martin for once. Either way - I love it.

42:25 - Martin always gets the last word. He always worms his way into Malcolm’s brain and screws with Malcolm’s sense of self. I hate it. But I also find it so captivating.

43:05 - Sooooo is Martin committing the murder next episode? Or is he just manipulating someone else to commit a murder? Either way - I’m excited.

If you read this far - I’m flattered. I also think you’re a little crazy. But thanks for hanging out.

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denimbex1986 · 3 years

Link

NOTE: This video will not play for those outside of the UK.

“Sebastian, you’re Bucky Barnes, AKA The Winter Soldier - how the heck did that happen?”

Sebastian: “I don’t know - I really don’t know. 2010 was definitely a turning point in my life, and it was getting this part. And it was all still speculative at the time because we had a lot of, uh, a lot of talks and meetings about the potential of this character and what he would become; whether or not he would ever be even explored as the Winter Soldier at the time. It was just more about the success of Captain America: The First Avenger and, and , and how much that story in itself worked. The fact that we were able to get it this far is, you know, a huge success, but it’s definitely something that’s attributed to many factors and, you know, I think there was always a plan there, but there were many times along the road I didn’t quite know how it was going to happen, or if it was gonna happen. It’s always kind of like an on-going discovery; I think people think we know a lot more about these things, but I think one of - one of the good things about Marvel is that the are always remaining very flexible and reflective of the times and what the fans respond to, and what’s the most interesting storyline, and what feels right, and then that’s kinda where decisions get made. So now we’re here - ten years later.”

“I’m loving it, yeah. So just to be clear; it started off as just Bucky. Apparently, the story goes that you only realised you were playing The Winter Soldier when the title was announced in 2013.”

Sebastian: “Yep; that - that also, uh, I think, I think the way I really learned about it was my, uh - a - I had a friend who texted me from Comic Con (interviewer laughs quietly) saying ‘Dude, they’ve just relay - the, the, the people your name’s in the title, and I was like ‘Oh. I mean that’s, I guess I’m, that’s - that’s good, that means that I’m in the movie, right? (interviewer laughs quietly) I mean -’ So, yeah, that’s very also true.”

“And talking of titles, was there ever any conversation about the show being called The Winter Soldier and The Falcon?”

Sebastian: “You know, first of all, I’ve already had my name in a title of a movie, you know - ”

“Ah, yes.”

Sebastian: “Arguably, Falcon we haven’t really ever learned his backstory period, I mean, you know, it’s - it’s a tough one to argue because I technically have had two movies dedicated to my character (laughs). So in a way I feel like, you know, it really should be about the Falcon, to be honest.”

“You gotta give him a leg up, that guy, Anthony Mackie.”

Sebastian: “Sometimes he might need a hell of a lot more than that. He’s got the legs covered, I’ll tell you that. (interviewer laughs) I mean the guy doesn’t skip leg day but - ”

“No Sir. And how happy are you now that you don’t have to wear the mask and the goggles anymore?”

Sebastian: (laughs) No, I kinda liked the mask. I, I - I was always a little bit hesitant of the goggles because when you have the goggles, you don’t have the, the eyes and so like as an actor, you wanna use the eyes, right? But the mask was kind of a cool thing because I knew what the Winter Soldier had looked like in the comic books, I knew - but any, you know and again, we had tried the eyeliner and, and that was sort of an interesting, bold choice and fortunately we decided to kind of maybe not use it, uh, so much, although it had made sense at one point that he had been - you know, he’d been using that; but it - that was just a - a nod to the comics, when he has the actual (motions across his eyes) you know, but again, the mask made the characters so much more brutal and sort of machine like and then that kind of informed a little bit of how, how I was gonna play that role at the time, so it was kind of a cool thing. I’m always a believer less is more and all that stuff, which is again why I was really worried this time around, I was like ‘ don’t, don’t give me, don’t give me too many - too many words (interviewer laughs quietly) because, (laughs) because I’ve been a lot better without a lot of words.’ So now if we’re gonna say something - what are we gonna say, you know?”

“What - who am I?”

Sebastian: ”Always the question, my friend. It never ends.” (laughs)

“You’ve worked with some utterly incredible people in these movies over the years. I was wondering who intimidated you the most because back in the day, you once told me this story of what happened to you when you first shot a scene with THE Robert Redford.”

Sebastian: “Oh man, that was such a good dream come true. All I wanted was to ask him about everything (interviewer laughs quietly) that he had ever experienced, and he was so kind. And yeah, I mean you work with these actors and you sort of kind of start to see how they do it, and I think I was always very lucky because I felt, you know, the Captain America trilogies and, and storylines were always very grounded, it’s really after like the most relatable storyline. Robert Redford got to be Robert Redford, with all that intensity, in our movie, um you know, that was the same guy from 3 Days Of Condor and stuff, and so like, you know, he really sort of was perfect in that part.”

“I - I know you’ve explained this a million times on a thousand different interviews, but indulge me. How does that metal arm work on set and how has that process evolved over the years?”

Sebastian: “Well the arm itself has changed. The first arm was really, really difficult to work with, in fact, it - we had to have like, it broken in two pieces because the one piece in itself, like the hero one, the particular material that shined and was the most - that looked the most metal was, was a really hard material so I couldn’t even like (motions moving arm) - just getting it to, to use it was like, extremely difficult. But again, that also informed sort of a kind of a behavior of the character in a way and I, and I remember refusing to, to wear the le - the, the the less shiny one. I wanted the hard, uncomfortable material because that was - was gonna look the best. And then as we went, obviously once he got a new arm, - every time they, they mold them again, based on your body; it’s all very specific to you. And then this particular one was the most flexible one, and again, it’s like one piece; obviously it can’t be a whole full on arm, right, ‘cos otherwise how are you going to get into it? - but it was the most, uh, comfortable one. But yeah, I still find myself sometimes catering to the old one, you know, ‘cos it just had such a specific shine to it and it was so iconic in the comic books so um -. But yeah, its, it’s a whole thing and, and it, it does do something to you after a while because you are essentially working your left arm more - ”

“Yeah.”

Sebastian: “ - I mean, it’s, it’s a very tiny, tiny difference, like your body knows when it’s saying ‘Hey, that’s working a lot more.’ So, (laughs) so physically, I’ve definitely, uh, had some love wounds from the - from, from my partner in crime - the, the left arm.”

“Now we know Captain America: The Winter Soldier is a favourite amongst the cast of the MCU - the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and I know that ‘cos they’ve actually told me so. And you’ve had some really special, emotional scenes over the years, like the ‘with you till the end of the line’ scene with Steve for example, and one of my favourites - ‘Who the hell is Bucky?’ And I love that your character is actually introduced in the very first film, your first scene, by knocking out a bad guy and then turning around and kicking him in the backside - I just love that. What are your standout moments over the movies?”

Sebastian: “As an actor you always want - you always want to do a movie that’s a period movie and a period movie in the 40′s was always really fun; the idea of it. I loved those, those scenes that he had with Steve Rogers in the first movie ‘cos they were so innocent but also in a way like really established their dynamic. And then of course The Winter Soldier movie was really incredible for me because I got to do so many cool things, and again it was not on a, on a green screen. We were really on a bridge - I was given a 35 pound thing to fire with. It was all very practical to be doing that kind of action.”

“The knife-stuff alone - ”

Sebastian: “The knife stuff. We had a good two months to get down to the hand-to-hand combat, so again, stuff I’d never done, so the character was really cool to me, and I loved all those, all those pieces. So there have been moments all throughout that kind of all add up i, in terms of really having enjoyed playing the character, From an acting perspective, you know, to play, uh, a character that seemingly could always go dark is interesting and fun, and it was a complex character like that. But then I think going forward it was more a good question of ‘What are we gonna really explore with him now?’”

“Hmmm.”

Sebastian: “And finding a way to - to marrying both sides of this character and, and kind of having and witnessing how, how he’s able to accept the past and, and claim his sort of dark Winter Soldier past and side, and, and then evolve forward. Because he’s never gonna be the man he was back in the 40′s and he’s certainly not gonna be the guy that was this assassin. So what is he gonna be now, you know, and how is he gonna figure out a way to - to grow from that?”

“For sure. I love the bits with the therapist in the first episode. It makes me think - you know the bit in Infinity War where you pick up Rocket and use him as like a moving machine gun?”

Sebastian: (with a laugh) “Yeah.”

“Are you bringing that up with the therapist? Surely there’s gotta be a moment where you go: ‘There were these alien dogs attacking me - and just -’ ”

Sebastian: “Well yeah, right? That, that would be a good thing to talk about. Because, I remember in, in that particular moment, which was a very cool moment, and it was fun, but we were sitting there with the Russo’s in Infinity War trying to figure out what his humor was and like, how does that character now respond to a talking raccoon, you know?”

“I’ll leave you with these two wrap-up questions. What do fans typically say to you in the street when the spot you? Do you get lines quoted back at you: ‘End of the line?’ Do you get people quoting: ‘Longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak, furnace, nine, benign, homecoming, one, freight car?’”

Sebastian: (with a sigh) It happens quite often. (interviewer laughs) It happens at, uh you know, coffee shops and uh, it - it happens a lot, you know, and, and it’s always very, uh, it’s always very funny. And it’s a good, hon - honorable thing, you know, I guess. You know you’re, you’re very taken with it all - all the time but - it, you do have to sometimes look at people in the face and say ‘No, I will - I will not become The Winter Soldier’ as you say that, you know? (interviewer laughs quietly) You can keep saying it, and maybe you should say it, um, maybe that’s a moment we both need to have together, now, here. But, uh, but nothing crazy will happen, uh, you know?’”

“Er, I’d like to apologise and say goodbye, which is it was with me where we decided your fans were gonna be called The Winter’s Children, back in the day.”

Sebastian: “It was, wasn’t it? Well that really stuck didn’t it?”

“Yep. I can only apologise. And - ”

Sebastian: No, it’s all good. I’m glad - I’m glad that stuck around.”

“And obviously as the White Wolf, I should say ‘Wakanda Forever’, so thank you so much Sir.”

Sebastian: “Hey, thank you man.”

#Sebastian Stan #the falcon and the winter soldier

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dannypuro · 3 years

Note

So I just binged Something Telling and it’s just, so amazing? Like, your characterization is so on point and I just have nothing but nice things to say about it. Can I make a list? I’m gonna make one cause I have Emotions™️ about every one of these dweebs.

1. Grantaire is just, so nice and kind and smart, and not an alcoholic! Like, I love the fics where he deals with that, but it’s nice to see him being a semi-functional adult person. (Was he an alcoholic in this universe at one point?) Plus, he’s still enough of an emotional disaster otherwise. Love him ❤️

2. ENJ VS TECHNOLOGY. I could read about that forever. Swearing in an elevator? Iconic. Never using the space bar? Perfect. Also now I refer to movies as “movings” in my head so there’s that.

3. Combeferre is the sane man of this family and I love it so much. Also I never thought of vaccines for time travel AUs and I genuinely cackled when Ferre brought it up. Like, yeah, that’s a good point.

4. Jehan is always chaotic and I love them for it. Also, I know R doesn’t want to hear about it, but I absolutely want to know what their sex talk consisted of. I’m curious.

5. Baz and Feuilly. Yes. Good. Lovely boys. So glad they got their shit together.

6. “I am wanted by the government for high treason.” Honestly Enj has so many golden moments/lines. He is trying his best and I love him.

7. The PTSD our boy has and how he’ll have to work through it, but he has Friends and Boyfriend to help. (Side note: I live in the US, so I don’t know how much of a thing it might be in Paris, but do they set off a lot of fireworks on New Years? Cause I feel like that would be a thing that Enj would have to deal with, especially if no one tells him about it beforehand)

8. The research you would have had to do for this is just, incredible. And I think you captured how someone would really be if they just got yeeted into the future with no tech experience whatsoever. Like, I’ve been living here since 1994 and I’m overwhelmed by stuff sometimes.

9. Slightly unrelated but I also saw that you did the AU where Grantaire is a baker and Enj is totally not in the mafia (the name escapes me) and I also love that fic.

Hopefully that was somewhat coherent! Seriously though your work is great and I can’t wait for more!

(Also, if you want and it’s not a plot point of the next one, what is Enjolras’s reaction to musicals? I know the boy loves his opera, but someone had to have shown him something on YouTube and I just crave knowledge about this universe) Thanks! 🥰

GUH thank you!!!!!!! thank you thank you!!! and thank you for taking the time to make a list because i thrive off of validation alone and it made my day 🥺. SO.

grantaire is a total sweetheart. like, genuinely a nice person who is trying his best despite the fact that he has a hard time. baby. of course, the funniest part about him is the fact that he has NO idea that he’s actually just like... nice. he’s like... oh man it sure sucks that i’m the worst person possible to help someone in need... sucks that i’m the only one here... sorry dude i’m sorry i’m not combeferre... and then he proceeds to just like. make beef stew and be so careful and kind and thoughtful and try his very best and let enjolras go to sleep on his shoulder during a moving. like... sir. ok. also, yes, i tend to write him a little more... with his shit together, especially in this fic. you mentioned that you read And If I See You In The Daylight (the bakery fic)--i kind of wrote this assuming a similar character arc (minus the bakery, of course. like, grantaire used to be much, much more of a mess in a lot of ways, and drinking too much was a part of that, and he’s slowly been working on it. and now he’s 29, and he’s doing his best, and his friends love him. he’s doing a little better in this fic than in the bakery fic--maybe he’s a little older? maybe because combeferre is a little harsher than jbm and gets on his case when he starts to slip back into old habits? yeah.

ENJ VS TECHNOLOGY. sweetie. baby. the first time combeferre vacuums his apartment when enj is around he’s like “hey man, do you mind if i do the vacuuming?” and enj (has NO idea what that word is, is falling asleep while reading on the couch in the sun) is like “do what you will” and then ferre turns the vacuum on and enjy does that thing when a cat is startled and it jumps like three feet up in the air and puffs up like a squirrel. he’s awake now.

combeferre. baby. he’s genuinely, genuinely trying his best, but it’s fucking hard when you’re tired and overworked and also none of your friends use their brains more than 30% of the time and also your new best friend is a spiky little revolutionary from EIGHTEEN THIRTY TWO. so. um. he’s a little stressed. but he loves enjy so much and doesn’t even mind when he’s dramatic and annoying because he’s such a sweet dude and they’re FRIENDS. sometimes he comes home from a long day of work and enj has come over and washed all of his dishes and brought over takeout but also rearranged all of his books and also eaten like three mangoes. listen. friendship is about gently tormenting your BFF because you are COMFORTABLE AROUND EACH OTHER.

jehan. baby. instagram influencer supreme. i’ve gotten like a bazillion asks about their sex talk--i SWEAR i will write it eventually because the concept of it just cracks me up. jehan is like. “ok. enjy. tell me what you know about sex” and enj is like... “i understand that..... it occurs?” and jehan is like :^/ and enj is like “one must be careful not to contract syphilis from unseemly sources?” and jehan is like “TIme For A Conversation Before Grantaire Messes This Up”

baz and feuilly. babies. they’re just such a sweet, casual couple and they like each other so much. also, first date 3 am kebabs? after they FINALLY communicated? and then baz gets railed like he deserves? they deserve it.

enj has a secret little sense of humor and it’s just a little hidden by the fact that he is 1) repressed 2) awkward. but it’s there! he’s just so smart and secretly funny and grantaire thinks he’s fucking hilarious. except when he jokes about the fact that he’s technically dead. it makes grantaire sad. he’s like YOU’RE NOT DEAD THOUGH BABE YOU’RE EATING JAPCHAE RIGHT NOW and enj is like. “i believe that if you observe my wicky encyclopaedia you shall learn otherwise 🤷” and grantaire is like 😰BABE

yeah. yeah. listen. he’s got a lot of shit to deal with. it’s gonna take a while. like... that is some SERIOUS trauma, and he didn’t even have any time in his own century to process it. he went straight from a very violent event--LITERALLY about to be executed 😰--to being zapped to a time where he recognizes NOTHING. that... didn’t help. and he can’t really go to a therapist (which causes combeferre no shortage of distress) since like... he wouldn’t be able to explain anything about the barricades or the source of his trauma to begin with. so... yeah. but yes! he has friends and a boyfriend who love and support him so much! and it’s the framework he needs to begin to work through stuff at his own pace 🥺 (also, yes, fireworks are a big thing. they’re also big for the 14 juillet, which i... kind of forgot to address. i might go back and write a scene somewhere around ch. 5 for it and post it on here. we’ll see.)

i’m so glad you appreciated the research! 🥺🥺🥺 legit i... kind of spent a stupid amount of time on it. i really tried to make it as realistic as possible (barring, like, the whole time-zap thing, and also the whole “characters from les mis” thing) since the whole POINT is the differences between their two times, so... i’m glad it paid off. it means a lot to hear that u vibed with it.

thank you thank you! again-- And If I See You In The Daylight is the name of the bakery fic, and i also love it 🥺🥺🥺 . to everyone else... READ IT!

enjolras does not like musicals. like... yes, there was a natural progression from 20th century opera to early musicals, but enjolras missed all of that. and 21st century musicals are pretty fucking different from 1820s/30s opera. he can’t quite understand the music. the plotlines don’t make sense. the plots aren’t stupid enough for his taste. they take themselves too seriously. not enough miscommunication. orchestral parts not nice enough. cosette tries to show him a musical on youtube and enjy is like. who is that. why are they all dressed the same. what is going on. why do they not use their Pocket Fones? why does it sound like this. hellp. (she gives up and shows him a Puccini opera instead.)

anyways. THANK YOU! and to everyone else--send me asks! send me prompts! send me questions! i WILL respond to them and i treasure them all i just tend to be kind of slow! but i love to receive them! thank you!!!

#something telling #wholockiantabs

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overcomeanxietycolorado · 2 years

Text

Are You Hurting But Avoiding Therapy?

Are you avoiding therapy because you don’t want to talk about the past?

And there are so many things to talk about in therapy right now!

How are you doing handling this pandemic?

Are you sad? Lonely? Bored at home?

Has this time alone activated your trauma? Do you feel like you were handling life pretty well, but now, everything is an effort?

Are you wondering if this is what depression feels like?

Has all this time alone made you hate your partner and daydream of running away? I get it. (Ok, except the part about hating my partner).

I went to a therapist myself last month.

I love going to therapy! But I didn’t this time.

I’ve enjoyed and thrived with some very good therapy in the past. Those relationships empowered me and enabled me to start my own private practice many years ago.

Therapy give me confidence that propelled me to move to a new city, because I wanted to. Therapy helped me uncover my dreams and make them come true.

I love going to therapy.

But last time I tried it, I did not love it. I was impatient.

I just wanted to talk, talk, talk. I didn’t want to answer questions about how I’d describe my father or what is my relationship with my siblings.

It was the intake structure that wasn’t a good fit.

But I am a high functioning woman who makes responsible decisions and does not generally harm myself or others. I don’t need to answer all those questions. It doesn’t help me feel better.

So this got me thinking, if I hate this process, my clients probably don’t like it either.

What if I screened for these important but boring facts in a quick questionnaire and we got to use the therapy time to talk? What if I let the client talk about whatever is on her mind right now?

After 20 years of helping people heal from their mental, emotional, spiritual wounds, I know I can weave these in a way that helps you feel heard and supported from day one.

This is talk therapy, but not just talk.

This is healing your trauma,

Calming your anxiety,

Helping you grapple with your addictions,

Skill building for your relationships,

Valuing yourself,

And unloading your burden.

You get to talk until you understand your feelings,

Clarify your wants and needs,

And make a plan if you want to.

You get to uncover your dreams and make them come true,

With a cheerleader, a supporter.

Will I really not ask about your childhood?

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#Avoiding Therapy #anxiety #depression

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cherryalt · 3 years

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Mark Raidpere, Shifting Focus (2005)

A table, a couple of chairs, an old-fashioned clock on the wall. It’s two minutes to eleven. A man fiddles with a video camera, removes the floral tablecloth, switches the camera to night vision and then back to normal. He sits and looks at the camera, resting his head on the table as though he is tired, teasing someone or checking poses as a stand-in for actors soon to join the set for a shoot. Then (cut) he’s on the other side of the table, then (cut) directly in front of the camera, adjusting strands of his hair in the mirroring lens. On the clock behind him we read that 12 minutes have passed, but we’re only 30 seconds into Mark Raidpere’s Shifting Focus (2005) and the tension is mounting.

A woman – the artist’s mother – enters and sits down. The clock on the wall has vanished; only the nail it hung on is left. The man (Raidpere) sits down. He has changed his red pullover for a dress shirt, (cut) then a dark long-sleeve shirt. Suddenly the image is black and white. The display window is shrinking (as though gradually changing from a television format to widescreen cinema), has a black frame around it, before the image rests on a shot of the mother facing her son across an empty table. Gently smiling, she finally says: ‘Well, tell me about it.’

Raidpere sobs, begins to talk and abruptly stops. Sobs again. Hides his face behind his hands. Endless minutes seem to pass. The mother remains almost unbearably calm and patient (why doesn’t she get up and shake him, or give him a hug?). ‘I’m afraid’, he says, ‘I don’t know what to say first, what later.’ The mother replies (they speak Estonian, subtitled in English): ‘Don’t torture yourself like this, just say what you want to say.’ By now it seems obvious that the son is struggling to confess to his mother that he is gay, but we soon discover that’s not the case. About eight minutes into the video (an ashtray has appeared, and Raidpere is smoking), he says: ‘I’m having a hard time right now. This Venice show, it’s more like a nightmare than a delight.’ Finally it’s out. The artist is having panic attacks in the run-up to his solo presentation at the Estonian Pavilion in Venice in 2005 (which is where this piece was shown for the first time). ‘Well, you’ve got time’, the mother says. ‘Loads of time. Months.’

Dramatic tension builds and is suddenly deflated – anxiety is resolved by its articulation (the completion of the piece); but why should we be bothered about the artist’s psychodramas and his family life? Some argue that it is only through an unflinching confrontation with the artist’s ingrained fears and desires, often connected to the circumstances of their upbringing, that great work can be created (hence, especially in film and literature, the ongoing proliferation of family dramas and memoirs). Conversely, others argue that such an approach inevitably produces kitsch, as the artist gets caught up in the age-old cliché of the artistic soul expressing itself, while falling back onto what the mass media – from afternoon chat shows to YouTube – do much better anyway, which is catering to the voyeurism of audiences hungry for confessions. Such an argument is supported by a tradition of critical theory: mid-20th-century New Criticism, which proposed to put the text – as opposed to biography or the author’s intention – centre-stage, and post-1960s’ Post-Structuralism and Deconstruction, which declared the text itself to be a fundamentally indeterminable entity. Simply put, you could say that the text (and analogously, the art work) was emancipated from the person who produced it and then from itself: its meaning was determined by its audience, while the audience in turn was also determined by its perceptions of the text or art work. In other words, authority moved from the author through the text/work to the reader – from where it bounced back into ambiguity.

But whether or not the text or art work is in some way unified by the ‘voice’ of its producer, a fundamental (and common) misunderstanding is to take critical theories of how a work can be perceived as normative prescriptions of how it should be produced. Even if you believe that art takes on a life of its own in the realm of its reception, this in no way implies that biography and subjectivity are taboo subjects to explore. Rather, it is often when this happens that the excitement starts: biography and subjectivity collide head-on with the indeterminacies of production, the formal questions of physical, technical and social process – all of which brings us back to Shifting Focus. The piece made me expect a coming-out because it sends out signals that I associate with previous readings of coming-out as a cultural trope. Yet while frustrating this one expectation, it offers relief: the confession that first seemed to block the way of the production of a work – the anxiety about creating work for the exhibition in Venice – turns out to be integral to its creation. In this respect, Shifting Focus recalls Christian Jankowski’s videos Kunstwerk verzweifelt gesucht (Desperately seeking the art work, 1997) and Telemistica (1999). The former involved the artist having therapy in order to overcome a block; he had failed to come up with an idea for a contribution to a group show, which, according to the therapist, was because the curator was too much like his mother (of course, the video turned out to be that contribution). Telemistica was devised for the Venice Biennale in 1999, at which the artist asked five fortune-tellers on Italian television if his idea for an art work was sufficient and original – without letting any of them know that the very idea was to call them up. With Raidpere, however, this idea of the work as self-fulfilling prophecy is given yet another twist, as we can’t be sure that the clever trick of turning failure into achievement isn’t itself just a ‘set-up’, a red herring in order actually to allow another level of meaning to return with a vengeance: what if Raidpere really did want to confess something very intimate or serious and created the art work as an easy way out? We can never know – which is the point; a shifting focus indeed. The artist’s mother functions as a catalyst, as an exemplary ‘reader’ of, and participant in, her son’s performance – performance both in the sense of an emotional scene, a ‘speech act’ being staged in order to generate a communicative effect, and in the sense of art being made.

video: https://digikogu.ekm.ee/eng/virtuaalnaitus?ex_id=6&cat_id=17&item_id=524

text: https://www.frieze.com/article/close-and-personal

#art #expectation

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