#Parenting Insecurities

[inevitablemoment]

“you’re doing great.”

Word Count: 818

Warnings: Nightmares, character death in dream, parenting insecurities, past parent deaths, mentions of a canonical character death, past possession/loss of autonomy, mental health issues, subtly implied past suicide attempt, mentioned ableism

Fandom: Ghostbusters

Pairings: Callie Spengler x Gary Grooberson

EEEEEEEEE! I’m finally writing for Spenglerson! I think that they’re so underrated, and I can’t wait to see more of them in the sequel to Afterlife.

Anything about Callie’s childhood that I mentioned in this fic is part of the headcanons that I created about her mother, whom I named Cathleen Paige Spengler and is depicted in my currently ongoing fic, I Want To Know Your Story.

Also, random thing, I missed seeing Paul Rudd, Ernie Hudson, and William Atherton filming at the firehouse BY ONE DAY! My parents and I joined my college’s redeye trip to New York, which meant we left Friday night, spent Saturday in New York, and were home by Sunday morning.

BY ONE DAY! I’m never going to get over this.

But, enjoy!

————————

Gary never slept well in hotel rooms, no matter how nice the most moderately priced Hampton Inn that he could find was. Besides the usual homesickness that usually arose, he was used to his bed being pushed against the wall of his room. He could share a story or two of rolling out of the bed in a hotel room

And he had struggled to fall asleep, considering that they were staying in New York. Even though he usually went to bed late, he was so jet lagged that he wanted nothing more than to sleep, but the city’s activity outside his window was too stimulating.

This time, though, the feeling of Callie in his arms had helped him wind down. The way that she had nestled herself against his chest felt like he was holding a life sized heating pad, and the rhythm of her breathing was like a lullaby.

But as his previous hotel stays had proven, it was inevitable that he would wake up in the middle of the night and never be able to wake up. Though, this time, it wasn’t because he had fallen out of the bed.

It was because he could feel Callie trembling in his arms, her hot tears falling onto his skin.

“No... no, please,” she was whimpering. “You-- you can’t! Please, stop!”

The volume of her voice began to climb, and her movements grew more erratic.

“Cals?” he began as gently as he could, sitting up as best as he could while still keeping Callie close to him.

“Stop, please!” Callie continued to cry before her words just turned into heartbreaking sobs.

“Cals...”

He turned her around so that she would be facing him. Her eyes began to open, looking into his with such... such sadness that others wouldn’t care to think that Callie Spengler could feel.

“G-- Gary...” she choked his name out.

“It’s me, Cals,” he promised.

“And... and the kids?” Callie asked.

“They’re here-- Pheebs is in the next bed, and Trev crashed in the chair,” he reminded her, gesturing to each of the children’s said position.

Callie’s eyes hesitantly looked at both Phoebe and Trevor, relief flooded through her as she leaned against Gary again.

“Nightmare?” he asked.

“The same one,” Callie answered. “When-- when that dog bitch or whatever possessed me... but it just makes me attack Phoebe and Trevor, and-- and there’s so much blood, and--”

She pulled away from him, burying her face into her hands.

“It-- I j--”

“I know, it’s horrifying,” Gary agreed. “But that’s not who you are?”

“Isn’t it?” Callie asked rhetorically, lifting her head up. “I’m a shitty, shitty mother, Gary. I just need to face it.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a human mother.”

“When I got pregnant with Trevor, I had no idea how to do it,” she confessed. “The grandmother raising me was a zealous bitch that wanted me to replace my mother for her, my dad’s side of the family couldn’t contact me in any way because my grandparents ran off to Chicago the second they won custody, my mom was dead... I had no one on my side besides my husband.”

She tried to hold back the tears as she remembered how dark those first few months after Trevor’s birth were... and how she wanted anything done if it meant that the constant numbness and exhaustion and frustration and feelings of uselessness and inadequacy would just stop.

“When Phoebe came along, I thought that it’d be easier the second time around,” she mused. “But then, when she got the diagnosis... the man that I considered the only man that I could count on, he just... checked out. He didn’t know how to act around her anymore, and... neither did I. I-- I tried to join one of those groups for moms with kids on the spectrum, but I learned what that puzzle piece on their bumpers really stood for, and I... finding resources just kept getting harder and harder as the money kept getting smaller and smaller...”

“Hey...”

His voice was gentle enough to keep her from spiraling even further. He cupped her face, wiping her tears away with his thumb.

“You’re doing great,” he said. “You’re doing better. I’ve seen you. Like I said, you’re human and you make mistakes. But you’re making up for them. I know how much you love these kids, even if it’s... it can be hard to be a mom sometimes. I may not get it, but I’m...”

“You’re empathizing with me,” Callie filled in.

“Yeah,” he said. “And I know that Phoebe and Trevor love you, and appreciate you.”

Another thought began to pick at Callie, and she voiced it before she could truly stop herself.

“You think... you think that my parents would be proud of me?”

Gary smiled at her. “I know they would. I may not have met them, but I know.”

[pandadrake]

Shots fired by the Spider-man sequels.

Was ruminating on how Miles and Miguel are technically both 'Spider-man 2' in their respective universes. Got me thinking about the other Spider-successors in the cast, and also what if they all got matching T-shirts or something.

[lucabyte]

heres your highly requested fluff you fucking animals

[imgoingtosetmyselfonfire]

and if i told you my new interest is the new fairly oddparents.

be warned the tags are a psychoanalysis of his character

[literaila]

Reader meeting gojo parents when since they’re confirmed to be alive ☹️

the next time gojo satoru claims to be a “grown man” you’re going to pull his annoyingly soft hair and shove him down a sink drain.

this child, this infant—the very same one who got lost exactly one minute after you told him not to wander off—is going to be the death of you.

you’d always thought that you might go out peacefully, in your sleep or lying in a hospital bed. or, at least, heroically. saving some innocent bystander, leaving the world with some witty last remark.

but no.

instead you’ll die of a heart attack. instead you’re going to look for gojo and accidentally wander into some den of cursed spirits and die before you get the chance to pull on his ear at least one last time.

even tsumiki doesn’t get lost this much—and she gets distracted every time she catches a glimpse of pink in a window.

you walk amongst the crowd, looking for long legs and a stupid blind-fold, thinking about how you should’ve brought megumi. he’s more observant than you are—he’ll look for any chance to get gojo in trouble.

namely, this one.

you sigh, dialing his number again. but you can barely hear it ring as you hold it to your ear, you can barely hear the, “it’s gojo, you must feel sorry that you missed me—“ before you hang up. he’s not going to listen to any short of breath voicemail you leave anyway.

he can teleport home, you suppose. it might be nice to have a couple of hours to yourself, to teach him a lesson for once—

(and no, you won’t miss him. that’s a ridiculous suggestion. why would you miss a third child that clings to you, and whines every time you’re not paying enough attention to him, and whispers sweet things in your ear when he’s bored, and follows you wherever you go, and always trails his hand down the small of your back because he knows—

no, okay? no.)

you’re thinking about how gojo satoru is the worst person you’ve ever met—and you’ve had to sit through meetings with the higher ups, so—when you run into someone.

you get your obliviousness from gojo, thank you.

“i’m sorry, i—“ but you look up and you’re met with the same smile you were just cursing out in your head.

though, maybe not quite the same? it’s usually not so pained and he’s usually sticking his tongue out a little bit—

“baby,” he breathes, chest inflating.

you frown. “i thought i told you to stay by me. i’ve been looking for you for, like, fifteen minutes, are you—“

he turns, just slightly, and usually you would pinch his cheek for trying to deflect but… there’s a woman standing there. looking at you—at him—like she’s seen some sort of ghost.

satoru has that effect, you suppose.

“oh, sorry,” you say, stepping so you wave at her. “did i—am i interrupting?”

“no, we—“

“it’s nothing—“

they both stop. and satoru may be blindfolded, as ridiculous as he is, but you can practically see the glance that they share.

the quick look away, awkwardness floating through the air like dust.

you tilt your head, brows furrowing.

satoru doesn’t necessarily like talking to strangers, but the man doesn’t know what social expectations are. and he’s certainly not awkward.

you wrap your hand around his arm, feeling the release of his technique (and yours), as you consider them. “satoru. who’s this?”

“she’s…” he makes a vague gesture with his hand, trying to telepathically communicate with you, and winces again.

you give him another strange look.

but the woman clears her throat, gesturing to satoru. “i am his mother.”

you still, keeping your eyes on satoru. he doesn’t look back towards you, doesn’t nod to confirm or acknowledge her in any way. his head is tilted up, eyes to the sky.

eventually, you look to the woman.

suddenly you see it, like a flash of light. her eyes are blue, and though not as breathtaking as satoru’s, still light enough to be beautiful.

her hair is a glimmering silver and her entire body is tense.

but she doesn’t look like satoru at all, you think. satoru is always smiling, always moving a million miles a minute. he’s gesturing and trying to make you laugh and he’s never nervous, he’s never caught off guard.

except for maybe now.

some hindrance in your mind thinks about how megumi resembles satoru at times—the model of his smirk or the tease in his eyes. you recall tsumiki’s laugh, the mimicry of sound when she’s laughing with satoru.

it’s not biology, you hear, but connection.

the way you mold each other, the tight grip that admiration has on the very material of your soul.

“oh,” you breathe out finally. but you don’t say anything else to her, can’t think of anything you might want to. you turn to satoru, leaning closer to him, hand gripping his arm. “satoru, do you want to—“

he finally looks forward, towering both of you. “this is my wife,” he interrupts, smoothly. “we were just shopping.”

“it’s lovely to meet you.”

the woman is trying to smile but it doesn’t mean much to you. she keeps glancing at satoru—staring like he’s some public attraction, hesitating like he might bite if provoked.

you pull on his arm a little bit, dragging him a step away. you don’t want to ask in front of her—dont want to take that means of distance away from him—but you don’t have a choice.

“do you want to go?” you whisper to him, wishing you could meet his eyes. “we don’t have to stay.”

his mouth opens, then closes. “i’m not—“ he swallows, stopping.

you’re about to say something—to tell him that he doesn’t owe her anything, that he doesn’t have to be afraid—but she clears her throat again and you turn, ready to say whatever you can to get your satoru back.

the one who’s never left speechless, never left not knowing what to say.

“satoru,” the woman speaks, saying his name like she deserves to. like it’s different when it’s in her mouth—a possession no one else can have. “i have to go—we aren’t supposed to be in the city for very long.”

you frown at her and satoru continues to stare at the side of your head.

“here’s my phone number. i would like—love. i would love to speak with you, if you have the time. whenever you want. if you want.”

she holds her hand out to him and you already know that he’s not going to reach out to her.

you already know that even if he did—she would never get past the world of space between them.

so you reach out instead, grabbing it from her. “thank you.”

“no—thank you. i am…” she pauses, looking away, finally. “i am glad you’ve found happiness, satoru. i… have to go. it was nice seeing you,” she blinks at you, a slight bow as she takes a step back. “and meeting you.”

you don’t say anything but wait, watching for satoru as she walks away from the two of you—keeping him safe for just a moment.

and as soon as she’s gone, you turn to look at him, not sure what to say.

it’s not like with your mom—if satoru understands your childhood at all, you’re completely lost to his.

“you okay, baby?” you ask, staying close to him. maybe it’s a defense mechanism—trying to keep him from shutting you out—or maybe it’s so he knows that you’re there.

“i didn’t think i would ever see her again.”

“did she…” his eyes meet yours, even through the fabric, his mouth a straight line. “did she say anything before i showed up?”

he shakes his head. “no. she just stared at me. i—i didn’t realize who she was, at first.”

“that’s understandable.”

“i don’t know why she would be here.” he looks around, seeming to come to, and then finds you again. “did i get lost?”

you laugh, a bit shocked, pushing your forehead into his chest. “ran away, more like.”

his arms wrap around your back, holding you in place. “sorry. i smelled dessert.”

“of course you did.”

he takes a deep breath, then pulls away. “okay. more shopping? did you check out at the gift shop?”

“are you okay, satoru?”

“i’m fine,” he answers immediately. you stare at him, unblinking, and wait. after a moment, he licks his lip. “okay. yeah. i don’t know.”

“that’s okay.”

three years ago, he wouldn’t have said anything to you. two years ago, he would’ve feigned indifference and hidden himself away for a week.

but you’ve learned to move past these walls, learned how to fill the space and not push too hard.

and you love satoru. too much to let him fall away from you, now.

he sighs after a moment, shaking his head again. “she.. she looks different.”

“it’s been at least ten years, right?”

“yeah.”

you wipe his cheek, adjusting his blindfold for him. “do you want to call her?”

“i don’t—“ he frowns, just minimally. “i don’t know.”

“that’s okay. but you can, you know?”

“would you help me?”

“help you dial her number?”

he grabs your wrist, his cheek quirking. “help me talk to her.”

“hmm…” you tap his nose with a finger. “maybe if you beg.”

“this is why i ran away,” he says, just barely pouting.

and that’s how you know you’ve gotten your satoru back. as annoying as he is.

[phatcatphergus]

Hot take but I think as fun as it is to apply angst and go in depth into the characters with the egg beef, I think that how lighthearted and silly it is makes it much more fun and refreshing. Not every part of lore has to be angsty and intense, sometimes it can be silly and goofy. Sometimes little girls just hate each other on sight and need to fist fight every other Tuesday 🤷🏻‍♀️

[mod2amaryllis]

i think one of the most interesting things about tradwives to me is the publicity, aka the fact that they're all influencers, profiting off of the lifestyle, but I'm not smart enough to delve into why it's interesting while pissing on break.

[carrot-felisidad]

What did they say about the thing when parents are awful, the children are very close and protective of one another?

*squints at Yunmeng Trio and Lan Brothers*

(and I feel like if Jin Zixuan gathered his brothers and Qin su, he would be an overprotective Da-ge, too)

[tacagen]

one of the things that fascinate me about thawne: yes, he CAN be normal with kids! surprisingly normal!

((not at all times, though. his mental illness still spills through and as usual he, in trying to manipulate or hurt others, spits out at them the exact stuff that would hurt him (or have in his childhood/barry's rejection interpretation) the most in the first place lmao))

but at the same time. his like second instinct when doing his bullshit is FUCK THEM (as) KIDS

(and, well. whatever this classifies as)

[strawbebbiesart]

chimckens 🐓🌽

[pinkd3mon]

This had context but I refuse to tell anyone

[deesi-academia]

parents be like *here's some generational trauma and insecurities, I won't help you sort these out though*

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

i really like writing about boring people. i like putting the most mid guy in existence next to the protagonist suffering from glorious purpose. here is a guy with no special skills, no blessings from the narrative, no outlandish identifying traits. and he can be just as interesting as the other guy as long as you make him feel real. banality is sublime to me.

[coulsonlives]

This dude spitting facts! Please consider listening to this if you have the time, it's just under 3 mins. :)

(Inb4 all the people who claim this video is 'defending boomers' when there's a big difference between explaining something and justifying the outcomes.)

[waitmyturtles]

Emotionally, 23.5 (episode 10) is like a cheaply made puzzle, where like, the edges are cut roughly, so like, you THINK that you have the right pieces next to each other, but when you smush them in, and they don't fit QUITE smoothly enough, you're like, oh maybe there's another piece, but like, you CAN'T find another piece that works, because like, the piece you have in your hand IS the piece that is the right one for the picture you're making, or like, you THINK it is, so like, you keep smushing the pieces together, and you THINK the puzzle makes sense, but you kinda feel like you have the wrong piece, or worse, you're MISSING A BETTER PIECE, because everything's NOT QUITE JIVING.

I hope this post made as much sense as the emotional journey we attempted to take with the script in this last episode. What the FUCK is this script doing to Ongsa? A little more context, some smoother edges, would be really helpful here!

[lunarninja613]

Do you ever just want validation or affection of some sort from a person that doesn't even exist?

Like, do you ever see a fictional character as a lover, friend, sibling, or parental figure for reasons that you might not even know of, but those reasons are still valid?

Do you ever fear that people will judge you and think of you as a weirdo or a freak for seeing a made up character the way you do? For becoming so emotionally attached to them that you'll be judged for it and told that it's wrong and you shouldn't think that way.

Do you ever get self-conscious when talking or posting about it because you feel that it isn't something super common and therefore you think it might be wrong?

Do you ever want to just be loved romantically or platonically or familially, etc, by a certain character, but part of you feels like they wouldn't like you to begin with?

Do you ever wonder if this is maybe a coping mechanism or something for something that happened in the past?

Do you ever just feel safe thinking about that character, and how much safer you would feel if they were actually with you? How badly you want to be with them and feel comforted, but you can't because they don't even exist.

I feel that way a lot.