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itsclydebitches · 3 years ago

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The Bad Batch: A Crosshair Analysis

Hello, Star Wars fandom! I have just completed watching—and loving—The Bad Batch, which you know means I now need to dump all my thoughts about the first season into the tumblr void. Specifically, thoughts on the complicated drama that is Crosshair. I have no doubt that the majority of what I’m about to say will be old news to anyone who watched the show when it came out (I’m slow...), but I’m writing it all out anyway. Largely for my own sanity enjoyment :D

I want to preface all of this by saying that the above is not an exaggeration. I love the show and I love the entire cast. My enjoyment in each of the characters is directly connected to my enjoyment of the season as a whole, which I say because I’m about to get pretty critical towards some of the characters’ choices and, to a lesser extent, the writing choices that surround those. Does this mean I secretly hate The Bad Batch? Quite the opposite. I’m invested, which is presumably just what Filoni wants. I’m just hoping that investment pays off.

But enough of the disclaimers. Let’s start with the matter of the inhibitor chip. I’ve seen fans take some pretty hard stances on both sides: Crosshair is completely innocent because he’s definitely been under the chip’s control this whole time, no matter what he might say. Crosshair is completely guilty because he said the chip was removed a long time ago and he chose to do all this, no moral wiggle room allowed. However, the reality is that we don’t know enough to make a clear call either way. The audience, simply put, does not have all the necessary information. What we have instead is a couple of facts combined with claims that may or may not be reliable. Let’s lay them out:

Crosshair was definitely under the chip’s control at the start of the series.

He was able to resist it to a certain extent, resulting in a pressure to obey orders coupled with a primary loyalty to his squad. See: telling Hunter to follow the Empire’s commands—which includes killing kid Padawans—but not turning his team in as traitors when they did not. It’s an in-between space.

Crosshair’s chip was then amplified to an unknown extent. I’m never going to claim I’m a Star Wars aficionado—I’m a casual fan, friends. Please don’t yell at me over obscure lore lol—but within TBB’s canon, no one else is undergoing that experimentation. The effects of this are entirely unknown, which includes Crosshair’s free will, or lack thereof.

Crosshair then becomes a clear tool of the Empire, hunting down innocents, killing on a whim, the whole, evil shebang.

In “Reunion” he’s caught by the engine and suffers severe burns to his face. One leaves a scar that covers precisely the place where the chip would have been extracted.

Removing the chip leaves its own scar behind. If Crosshair’s was removed, we can’t see that scar due to the burn.

After these events Crosshair seems to mellow a bit. He does horrible things under the Empire’s orders—like shooting the senator—but is still loyal to his squad—killing his non-clone teammates to give TBB a chance, saving AZ and Omega, etc.

Crosshair claims that his chip has already been removed. However, Crosshair is arguably an unreliable source if he’s been lied to or if the chip is still there, encouraging him to manipulate the team.

Crosshair claims it was removed a long time ago, which is incredibly imprecise. As we can see from just some of the events listed above, precisely when the chip came out—if it came out—makes a huge difference.

Hunter realizes this and presses for clarification, but Crosshair dodges giving it. Again, a legitimate belief that it doesn’t matter, or evidence that he can’t say because something else is going on? We don’t know.

Hunter checks Crosshair’s head and finds the burn scar which proves… nothing. As stated above, they wouldn’t be able to see the surgery scar one way or another: its existence or its absence. It’s useless data, as Tech might say. I’ve seen a few fans claim that Hunter was also feeling for the chip with his enhanced senses, but 1. I didn’t catch any evidence of that in the scene and 2. Even if we assume Hunter did that anyway, the chips are notoriously hard to spot. Fives and AZ couldn’t find the chip at first when examining Tup. Ahsoka had to use the force to find it in Rex. TBB themselves couldn’t find it at first in Wrecker. If machinery consistently fails to find the chip on the first couple of tries—it’s meant to be a hidden implant, after all—why would we believe Hunter’s senses could pick it up instantly? Maybe he missed it, or maybe it wasn’t there at all.

Crosshair appears to be struggling with a headache in the finale, just as he was at the beginning of the season and just like Wrecker was for the first half.

The point of listing all this out is to emphasize how ambiguous this whole situation is. I don’t want to use this post to argue one way or another about whether Crosshair’s chip is really out. I have my preferred theory (the chip’s still in, but only partially functional), but at the end of the day none of this is conclusive. The writing takes us in what I hope is deliberate circles. Crosshair says the chip is out? Crosshair is not a reliable source of information until we know if the chip is out. What other evidence is there that the chip is gone? A scar? We can’t see if there’s a scar. Hunter’s abilities? He only checked once for a canonically hard to find implant—if he actually checked at all. And why would the Empire want the chip out? Well, maybe it has to do with that push towards willing soldiers, but if that were the case, why leave Crosshair behind and have the “clones die together”? By that point he was one of the most willing, chip or not. Did they have to take it out because of the engine accident? Pure speculation. We just don’t know and THAT is the point I want to make.

Because it means the rest of the Bad Batch didn’t know either.

The core issue I have here is not whether the chip is in or out, or even how long it may have been in if it is out now. The issue is that TBB spent 99% of the first season believing that Crosshair was under the chip’s influence… and they didn’t try to do anything about that. They abandoned him. They left a man behind. Does this make them all horrible monsters? Of course not! This shit is complicated as hell, but I do think they made a very large mistake and that Crosshair has every right to be furious about it.

“But, Clyde, they couldn’t have gone back. It was too dangerous! Hunter had a duty to his whole team, not just Crosshair.” True enough and I’d buy this argument 100% if Hunter hadn’t spent the entire season throwing his team into dangerous, seemingly impossible situations to save other people. Crosshair became the exception, not a hard rule of something they had to avoid. They went back to Kamino for Omega, a kid they’d only had one lunch with, despite knowing how dangerous the Empire was. They went into the heart of an occupied planet to rescue not just a stranger, but one belonging to the Separatist government. They helped Sid when she asked and there was plenty of compassion for the criminal trying to take her place. Most significantly, there wasn’t the slightest hesitation to go rescue Hunter when he was under the Empire’s control, in precisely the same place. Every explanation I’ve seen fans come up with—Kamino is too fortified, they don’t know where Crosshair is, they can’t risk Omega being captured, etc.—also holds true for Hunter, yet there wasn’t a second of doubt about needing to at least try to help him. And his rescue was arguably far more dangerous given that TBB knew they were walking into a trap. Going after Crosshair would have at least had some element of surprise.

I think the problem with these justifications is most easily seen in “Rescue on Ryloth” and, later, “War-Mantle.” In the former, we do watch Hunter decide that going on a rescue mission is too much of a risk, only for Omega to talk him into considering it.

Hunter: “It’s a big galaxy. We can’t put ourselves on the line every time someone’s in trouble.”

Omega: “Why not? Isn’t that what soldiers do?”

Hunter: “It’s not worth the risk.”

Omega: “She’s trying to save her family, Hunter. I’d do the same for you.”

The arguments that sway him are ‘Soldiers should help people’ and ‘Soldiers should specifically help their family.’ So… what does that say about their feelings for Crosshair? They’re willing to put themselves on the line for the parents of a girl they met once at a drop site, but not their own brother? That’s the message the writing sends. “But, Clyde, the difference is that they had an advantage here. Hera’s knowledge of her home planet tipped the odds in their favor.” Yeah… and Crosshair is stationed on TBB’s home planet. Even more than them collectively having the same knowledge that Hera does, “Return to Kamino” reveals that Omega always had additional, insider knowledge of the base: she has access to a secret landing pad and the tunnels leading up into the city. That knowledge was given and used the second Hunter’s freedom was on the line, but it never once came up to use for Crosshair’s benefit.

“War-Mantle’s�� mission puts this problem in even sharper relief. Another claim I’ve seen a lot is that TBB only took risky rescue missions because they needed to be paid. The guys have got to eat after all. Yet Tech makes it clear that going after Gregor will lose them money. They’re meant to be on a mission for Sid and deviating for that won’t result in a payment. He explicitly says that if they decide to do this, they won’t eat. They do it anyway. No money, no intel, a huge risk “on a clone we don’t even know.” But that’s not what’s important, the show says. All that matters is that a brother is in trouble. This time it’s Echo pushing that message instead of Omega. When Hunter realizes that they’re about to try and infiltrate an entire facility and they don’t even know if this clone is still alive, Echo points out that they took that risk once before: for him. “If there’s a chance that trooper is being held against his will, we have to try and get him out.”

Yes! Exactly right! So why doesn’t that apply to Crosshair?

“Because he tried to kill them, Clyde!” No, that’s the easy, dismissive answer. A chipped Crosshair tried to kill them. AKA, a Crosshair entirely under the Empire’s control. The only difference between his enslavement and Gregor’s is that Gregor’s chains were physical while Crosshair’s were mental. And again, the point of everything at the start of this post is to show that no one knows when or even if that chip was removed. TBB definitely didn’t have any reason to suspect that Crosshair was working under his own power until Crosshair himself said as much. We might have been able to make that case at the start of the season, but “Battle Scars” removes any possible confusion. The entire team watched Rex reach for his blaster when he learned their chips were still in. The entire team watched Wrecker become a totally different person and attack them, just like Crosshair did. The entire team forgave him instantly and had their own chips removed. So why in the world didn’t anyone go, “Wow, Crosshair has a chip too. He was no more responsible for attacking us than Wrecker was. We need to try to get him out, no matter how hard that might be, just like we had to try for all these other people we’ve helped.”

But they didn’t. No one even considered rescuing Crosshair. They only went back for Hunter and, when they realized Crosshair was there too, they didn’t change their plans to try and rescue him as well. He’s treated as a particularly threatening inconvenience, not another team member in need of their help.

The problem I have with how this all went down is that the team treated Crosshair like an enemy despite all evidence to the contrary. Despite Omega outright saying that this isn’t his fault, it’s the chip, the group seems to decide that he’s gone crazy or something and that there’s nothing they can do. “It’s fine,” I thought. “They don’t really get what the chip is like yet. They don’t understand how thoroughly it controls someone.” But then “Battle Scars” arrives and Wrecker is treated with such compassion (which he deserves!) only for the group to continue acting like Crosshair is somehow different. It’s easy to say, “But Crosshair shot Wrecker” and ignore the easy pushback of, “and Wrecker nearly shot Omega.” Up until Crosshair’s own accusations and Omega’s ignored comments, TBB’s understanding of the chip’s influence and the lack of responsibility that accompanies mysteriously disappears when the show’s antagonist becomes the subject of conversation. This is seen most clearly in how Hunter tries to frame things during his talk with Crosshair:

“You tried to kill us. We didn’t have a choice.”

“Can’t you see that they’re using you? It’s that inhibitor chip in your head.”

“You really don’t get who we are, do you?”

Hunter mentions the chip, but he acts as if it’s Crosshair’s responsibility to overcome it: “Can’t you see…” Of course he can’t see, that’s the entire point of the chip, the thing he currently believes Crosshair still has stuck in his head. But Hunter and the others—with Omega as a wonderful exception—never seem to have accepted this like they did for Wrecker. When Crosshair “tried to kill us” it’s seen as a deliberate act that he chose, not something forced on him like with Wrecker. When Hunter talks about their ethics, he subconsciously separates the team from Crosshair: “You really don’t get who we are, do you?”, revealing a pretty ingrained divide between them. Even Wrecker gets in on the action, the one brother who truly understands how much the chip controls someone: “All that time, you didn’t even try to come back.” What part of he couldn’t try is not hitting home here? Again, for the purposes of this conversation it doesn’t matter whether Crosshair was chipped this whole time or not. The point is that TBB believed he was chipped… and yet still expected him to somehow, magically overcome that programming, writing him off when he failed to do that. He’s consistently held responsible for actions that they were told (and, through Wrecker, saw) were completely outside of his control. Even when we factor in his claim that the chip was removed, TBB has ignored all the evidence I listed at the start. No one, not even Omega, challenges this super vague and strange claim, or seeks out proof because they don’t want to believe that their brother could willingly do this. There’s just this... acceptance that of course Crosshair went bad. Why? Because he was an asshole sometimes? Taking it all as written, it doesn’t feel like the batch considered him a true part of the team. Certainly not like Wrecker or Hunter. As shown, the batch will go out of their way, risk anything, forgive anything, for them. They have a level of faith that was never shown to Crosshair.

“Severe and unyielding,” Tech says and he’s absolutely right, but I’d seriously challenge this idea that any of the others would have automatically done better if the situations were reversed. It stood out to me that each batch member has a moment of doubt throughout the series, a brief glimpse into how they think the Empire isn’t that bad, at least when it comes to this particular thing. Basically, a moment that could lead to a very dangerous line of thinking without others to stomp it down. Wrecker announces that he’s happy working for whoever, provided they give him food and let him blow things up. Tech finds the chain codes to be an ingenious strategy and is clearly fascinated with their development. Hunter initially wants Omega to stay on Kamino, despite knowing that this Empire has already, systematically killed an entire group of people: the Jedi. Doesn’t matter. She’s still (supposedly) safer there than she would be running with the likes of them.

There’s absolutely no doubt that those three made the correct choice in defying the Empire, but I believe that their ability to make that choice is largely dependent on them having each other. They survive together, not apart, and it’s their unity that allows them to make the really hard calls, like setting out on their own and opposing such a formidable force. But if Tech’s chip had activated and he’d been left behind, would he have muscled through to escape somehow...or would he have gotten caught up in all the new technology the Empire offered him, succumbing to both his chip and the inevitability that if his squad no longer wanted him, why not stay? Would Wrecker have escaped, or been easily manipulated into a new life of exploding things? Would Hunter have been able to push through without his brothers, or would he have become devoted to a new team to lead? Obviously there’s no way to ever know, but it’s always easier to make the right decisions when you have support in doing so. Crosshair had no support. His team left him and yes, they had to in that specific moment, but the point is that they never came back. As far as we saw throughout the season, they never planned to come back. They all talk about loving the Crosshair who existed when life was easier, but they weren’t willing to fight for the Crosshair that most needed their help. When he says “You weren’t loyal to me,” he’s absolutely right. The same episode, “Return to Kamino,” gives Omega two powerful lines that the group rallies behind:

Omega: “[The danger] doesn’t matter. Saving Hunter is what matters.”

AZ: “You must leave.”

Omega: “Not without Hunter.”

The key word there is “Hunter.” Danger, stakes, risk, probability… none of that matters when Hunter needs help. Crosshair did not receive that same level of devotion.

Which creates a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. The group is upset that Crosshair isn’t rejoining them, but they fail to realize that he has no reason to trust them anymore. He’s not joining the Empire because he’s inherently evil and that’s that, end of discussion. He’s joining it because above all Crosshair wants a place to belong… and TBB has made it clear—unintentionally—that he does not belong with them. The horrible actions that Crosshair took under his own free will (theoretically) came after he realized that doing bad things while under the Empire’s control was, apparently, unforgivable. If it wasn’t, his team would have come back to rescue him. They could have at least tried. But they didn’t, so Crosshair is left with the conclusion that either what he did under the Empire’s control is something the group can’t forgive him for, or they can forgive that (like with Wrecker) and he’s the problem here. He’s the one not worth that effort.

“The Empire will be fazing out clones next,” Hunter says. To which Crosshair responds, “Not the ones that matter.”

He wants to matter to someone and events show he no longer matters to his brothers. So why not stay with the Empire? I mean, we as the audience ABSOLUTELY know why not. Self-doubt and feelings of isolation aren’t excuses for joining the Super Evil Organization. Crosshair, if he is under his own control, is still 100% in the wrong for supporting them, no matter his reasons. So it’s not an excuse, but rather an explanation of that very human, flawed, fallible thinking. He needs to be useful. He needs to be wanted. Crosshair is an absolute dick to the regs and I have no doubt that a lot of that stems from the harassment TBB has experienced from them (with a side of his inflated ego), but I’d bet it’s also due to Crosshair’s intense desire to be valuable to someone. He keeps pointing out the regs’ supposed deficiencies because it highlights his own usefulness. When Crosshair fails to find Hera, the Admiral says that soon he’ll get someone who can, looking straight at Howzer at the door. It makes Crosshair seethe because his entire identity is based on being useful, yet no one seems to need him anymore. TBB seems to no longer want him. The Empire no longer wants clones. Now even regs are considered a better option than him, the “superior” soldier. Everywhere Crosshair turns he’s getting the message that he’s not wanted, but he’ll keep fighting to at least be needed in some capacity, no matter how small. Even if that means overlooking all the horrors the Empire commits.

“All you’ll ever be to [the Empire] is a number,” Hunter says and he’s absolutely right. But to TBB recently, Crosshair hasn’t even been that. He’s been nothing. Nobody worth coming back for. To his mind, at least being a number is something.

I hope that all of this resolves itself into a conclusion that is kind to each side (preferably without a Vader-style death redemption), especially given the still ambiguous state of the chip, but from a writing standpoint I’m admittedly a bit wary. We’re obviously meant to believe that the batch all love each other, but as established throughout this entirely too long post, this season did a terrible job imo of proving that they love Crosshair. Or, at least, proving that they love him as much as the others. If this was really meant to be just a matter of miscommunication, with Crosshair making terrible life choices because he only thinks he was abandoned, then we as the audience would have seen the batch trying and failing to get him out. Or at least establishing a very good reason why they couldn’t take that risk, hopefully with entirely different side-missions so the audience isn’t constantly going, “So you can risk everything for Gregor... but not Crosshair?” I’m VERY glad that Crosshair was allowed to air his grievances to the extent he did, but the end result of that—Hunter continually denying this, Omega walking away from him in their rooms, neither Tech nor Wrecker actually sticking up for him and acknowledging the chip’s influence during at least some of all this—is making things feel rather one-sided. It’s like we’re meant to take Crosshair at his word and accept that he’s this garden-variety antagonist who joins the Empire because yay being on the winning side… despite all these complications that clearly have a huge impact on how we read the situation. It doesn’t help that the show has already embraced an inconsistent manner of portraying chipped-clones. We know every clone has one, we know only a couple clones are aware of the chip’s existence (and can thus try to get it out), we know they enter a “Good soldiers follow orders” mindlessness once activated… yet towards the end we see a lot of side character clones thinking for themselves. Howzer decides that he’s no longer loyal to the Empire, giving a speech where a couple other clones throw down their weapons too. Gregor was arrested because he likewise realized how wrong this all was. But how is that possible? Do the chips completely control the clones, or not? Are these clones somehow exceptions? Are the chips beginning to fail? All of that has a bearing on how we read Crosshair—what were his own decisions, how much he was capable of overcoming the chip, whether that changed at all during certain points—but right now that remains really unclear.

It’s details like that which make me wonder if all these other questions will be answered. Will the story resolve all those ambiguous moments surrounding the chip, or brush them off with the belief that we should have just taken Crosshair at his equally ambiguous word? Will the story acknowledge Crosshair’s points through someone other than Crosshair, allowing it to exist as a legitimate criticism, rather than the presumed excuses of an antagonist? I’m… not sure. On the whole I’m very happy with TBB’s writing—despite what all this might imply lol. Until my brain picks over the season and discovers something else, my only other gripe is not allowing Omega to form a solid bond with Tech and Echo, instead putting all the focus on big brother!Wrecker and dad!Hunter. I think it’s a solid show that does a lot right, but I’m worried that, unless there’s a brilliant answer to all these questions and an intent to unpack both sides of the Hunter vs. Crosshair debate with respect—not just falling back on, “Well, Crosshair is with the Empire so everything he says is automatically bad and wrong” take—we’ve just gotten the setup for a somewhat messy, ethical story. For anyone here who also reads my RWBY metas, I’m pretty sure you’re not at all surprised that I’m invested in going, “Hey, you had one of the heroes suddenly become/join a dictatorship and do a lot of horrific things, but within a pretty complicated context. Can we please work through that carefully and with an acknowledgement of the nuance here, rather than throwing the ‘evil’ character to the proverbial wolves?”

God knows TBB is leagues ahead of RWBY, but I hope things continue on in not just a good direction, but one that tackles the aspects of this situation that many fans—and Crosshair—have already pointed out. As much as I adore the cast—and I really, really do—it was discomforting to watch a found family show where 4/5th of that family so completely wrote off one of the members and crucially have, at least so far, refused to acknowledge that. I want complicated, flawed characters, but that’s only compelling when the storytelling admits to and grapples with those flaws. We have quite firmly established Crosshair’s flaws in Season One. I hope Season Two delves into the rest of the team’s too.

Aaaand with that meta-dump out of my system, I’m off to write TBB fic. Thanks for reading! :D

#The Bad Batch #TBB #Crosshair #Star Wars #SW #mymetas #do I take my life in my hands #by posting SW meta?#probably lol

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kindest-way-to-say · 3 years ago

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okay so. i’m just gonna rant. about some pain i’ve been experiencing for a while. like, we’re getting into it

if anyone would like to put in their two cents, feel free. im kinda just yelling about my problems into a void, but im definitely not gonna stop people who might know what this is from giving me advice.

idk. my brains shutting down a bit.

TDLR: my left arm has been in constant pain for three days. it’s probably nerves or something. i’m very addled rn. i hate the world i want to sleep for a millennia. i also have had similar, smaller pain issues over a course of 4 months. i hate it here. i would very much like this to not be a thing, please.

so this story starts the mid may. my last month of school. i’m suffering through just to end this bullshit. but i notice that p much every time i have to do some slightly more than normal walking, some random body part of mine will just be in this sort of dull pain.

and i just kinda go. huh. okay. ow. and brush it off. this continues. it’s pretty minor, (like barely a 1/10 on a scale) but enough for me to be mildly annoyed by it on occasion.

go to two weeks before my school lets out for summer.

i get appendicitis and have surgery for it. i’m fine. that situation went better than expected, i was just not the most comfortable.

appendicitis pain traditionally presents in the lower right quadrant of the abdomen. right next to a shit ton of nerves. and the pain i’m going through starts to affect my leg. can’t really walk without alarms going on.

it gets better. i’m not like. comfortable, but i’m just taking ibuprofen a few times a day and managing decently. 3.5/10 pain level average.

but then, as i start going out and living life as a teenager in the summer (hanging out with one person semi-regularly, and doing weird family lunches), i start to notice that most times i leave the house, i’ll come back home with some pretty decent pain in assorted parts of my body.

like my back will hurt, which i just blame on my shit posture. but then it’ll be a weird muscle connected to my ankle or some shit when i am very well known for hating any and all sports except for hockey. which i don’t play.

so i’m not doing things to pull muscles, but i’m feeling twinges of pain kind of a lot. which sucks.

but i brush it off, now consciously keeping an eye on it and taking ibuprofen when needed.

pain levels steadily rise over time, but it’s still at about a 4/10 for the most part. there’s the occasional spike to a 6, but that’s not frequent.

keep going on to mid-july. every time i leave the house, i’m feeling dull ache/twinges in multiple places and my knees feel really fucking off a lot of the time. almost like if your knees were crooked or something?? idk.

but it’s still 5.5 on the worst day. so i just kinda hesitantly mention this to my mom. who’s used to me complaining anyway, but i make it clear that it’s been going on for a while, and it feels like somethings wrong.

and she says “oh yeah we can think about seeing a doctor.”

and i just. okay! cool. fun. rad. sick. vague pain. that’s my favorite activity. i love everything about this.

but i just grit my teeth and bear it. still doing the ibuprofen thing when my ignore it and distract yourself strategy doesn’t work.

now, end of july. trucking along. i’m at least in mind discomfort pretty much all the time. sucks. hate it. i’m concerned.

go to the 31. i pull a crazy all-nighter because i have chemical imbalances in my brain and shit just happens. i stay up for like 44 hours. wild. i sit at my desk for a while, drawing and i notice “wow my left shoulder doesn’t feel that great. huh. i have been sitting here for a while.”

so i go do something else but it doesn’t feel fantastic. almost like a buzzing in parts of my back and my upper arm. on my left arm. i am right handed. don’t know what that’s about.

go to sleep sunday night, i wake up to it just being worse. (also i have some weird circulation problems because of genetics. just random shit. no pain whatsoever. just funky.)

like wtf that’s a 4 right as i’m waking up. what the actual fuck. don’t like that.

but i was raised catholic so none of us talk to each other. so i just joke about my body organizing a shitty coup d’état to a friend and chalk it up to a fucked up muscle. but it’s like kind of moving?? a bit?? weird as fuck. don’t like it. still dull pain, but certainly something that pops up into my conscious mind like 10 times a day.

i didn’t do anything would result in a pulled muscle (trust me. my school is really intense about theatre and show choir. hard core choreography in everything that i practice 3 times a week during school+whatever play/musical) so i’m really just making excuses to soothe my brain and i know it. full denial.

i took ibuprofen the first and second day. can still tell it’s happening, but it sucks less.

yesterday i play a shit ton of guitar, and i can feel my upper arm cramping up and shit (which. oW. 5.7/10. WHAT THE HELL.) even though there is no strain on my left arm except for pressing my fingertips into some strings. no shoulder shit going on.

so i try to stretch out. no help.

and then the adhd medication instead of sleeping medication debacle happens and i don’t go to bed even though i actively tried to multiple times. i write a poem instead.

hurts mildly the whole time. it starts kind of limiting the functions of my arm. which. what the actual fuck. stiff, a bit seized up in especially bad pain moments.

i get focused on writing a poem and shit i only 20 minutes to get ready to leave for my appointment.

i forgot to take any ibuprofen, and it was already reaching 5.85 levels from sitting in my room.

in the car and in the orthodontist office, my left arm is completely fucking useless to me. half of my brain at all times is focused on like “oW OW OW OW OW” because it’s reached a point where i can’t really ignore it. it’s just there now. moving it isn’t great, it sitting in place isn’t fun either.

i’m at 6.5 levels. from the round trip of like 20-ish minutes, it’s raised that much. a lot of internal dialogue about it.

on the way to the orthodontist, i’m talking to my mom about it. she, sounding kind of annoyed, asks “what, do you want to see a doctor?”. i say “honestly? yes. it’s been 3 days nonstop. steady rise. there’s something genuinely wrong. i’m concerned about it.”

it feels like someone is poking around inside my arm with electricity or some shit. whole arm. shifting localizations and slight fluctuation in pain level. rapid escalation even just today.

i explain what it feels like in less wordy terms. and she says “that’s sounds like it could be nerve-related.”

it’s been three days. i’m exhausted. this has already taken a pretty significant mental toll, let alone discomfort level.

i have a high pain tolerance. i only started actively complaining about appendicitis pain the night before it exploded. that shit festers longer than overnight. i had been i pain for half the week before i said shit. and i just kinda sucked it up until i felt like i couldn’t walk without needing hella support.

but it’s really fucking getting to me. shit ton of weird tension, buzzing. just. constant painful buzz moving around.

i express this. “it’s a non-stop pain bad enough to be something i am fully aware of at any given second. if i stare off, im probably thinking about my arm.” and she kinda dismisses it.

it’s been like an hour, and i’ve gone up to 6.8 levels multiple times. based on patterns, it’s not just gonna stop any time soon, and i’m really good at working around weird problems like this.

like i said. pain every time i go out.

i’m good at hiding when i’m not 100%, but this is beyond me. it’s like someone’s just stabbing me with tacs over and over again. on my entire left arm and on the rare occasion, part of my leg.

i’m so genuinely uncomfortable, and i would this to not be a thing anymore.

#long post #uh. help?#oW OW OW #ITS LIKE SOMEONE IS PLAYINH FUCKING OPERSTION ON ME #sorry this is so gigantic #rip my arm ig??#i’m already disabled my body doesn’t need to betray me like this #bitch tried to kill me once already and failed so it’s back and trying again and iT SO MUCH FUCKINB WORSE THAN THE FIRST TIME #HHHHH

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johnrossbowie · 4 years ago

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LEAVING TWITTER

I wrote this earlier in the fall, before the election, after dissolving my Twitter account. I wasn’t sure where to put it (“try up your ass!” – someone, I’m sure) and then I remembered I have a tumblr I never use. Anyway, here tis.

How do you shame someone who thinks Trumps’ half-baked policies and quarter-baked messaging put him in the pantheon of great Presidents? How do you shame someone so lacking in introspection that they will call Obama arrogant while praising Trump’s decisiveness and yet at the same time vehemently deny that they’re racist? How do you shame someone for whom that racism is endearing and maybe long overdue?

You don’t. It’s silly to think otherwise.

Twitter is an addiction of mine, and true to form, my dependence on it grew more serious after I quit drinking in 2010. At first it was a chance to mouth off, make jokes both stupid and erudite and occasionally stick my foot in my mouth (I owe New Yorker writer Tad Friend an apology. He knows why, or (God willing) he’s forgotten. Either way. Sorry.) I blew off steam, steam that was accumulating without booze to dampen the flames. Not always constructive venting, but I also met new friends, and connected with people whose work I’ve admired for literal decades and ended up seeing plays with Lin-Manuel Miranda and hanging backstage with Jane Wiedlin after a Go-Go’s show and exchanging sober thoughts with Mike Doughty. When my mom passed in 2018, a lot of people reached out to tell me they were thinking of me. This was nice. For a while, Twitter was a huge help when I needed it.

I used to hate going to parties and really hated dancing and mingling, but a couple of drinks would fix that. Point is, for a while, booze was a huge help, too.

But my engagement with Twitter changed, and I started calling people my ‘friends’ even though I’d never once met them or even heard their voices. These weren’t even penpals, these were people whose jokes or stances I enjoyed, so with Arthurian benevolence I clicked on a little heart icon, liked their tweet, and assumed therefore that we had signed some sort of blood oath.

We had not. I got glib, and cheap, and a little lazy. And then to make matters much worse, Trump came along and extended his reach with the medium.

There was a while there where I thought I could be a sort of voice for the voiceless, and I thought I was doing that. I tried very hard to only contribute things that I felt were not being said – It wasn’t accomplishing anything to notice “Haha Trump looks like he’s bullshitting his way through an oral report” – such things were self-evident. I tried to point out very specific inconsistencies in his policies, like the Muslim ban meant to curb terrorism that still favored the country that brought forth 13 of the 9/11 hijackers. Like his full-throated cries against media bias performed while he suckled at Roger Ailes’ wrinkly teat. Like his fondness for evangelical votes that coincided with a scriptural knowledge that lagged far behind mine, even though I’m a lapsed Episcopalian, and there is no one less religiously observant than a lapsed Episcopalian. But that eventually gave way to unleashing ad hominem attacks against his higher profile supporters, who I felt weren’t being questioned enough, who I felt were in turn being fawned over by theirdim supporters. If you’re one of these guys, and you think I’m talking about you, you’re probably right, but don’t mistake this for an apology. You suck, and you support someone who sucks, and your idolatry is hurting our country and its standing in the world. Fuck you entirely, but that’s not the point. The point is that me screaming into the toilet of Twitter helps no one – it doesn’t help a family stuck at the border because they’re trying to secure a better life for their kids. It doesn’t help a poor teenager who can’t get an abortion because the party of ‘small government’ has squeezed their tiny jurisdiction into her uterus. It doesn’t help the coal miner who’s staking all his hopes on a dying industry and a President’s empty promises to resurrect it. I was born in New York City, and I currently live in Los Angeles. Those are the only two places I’ve ever lived, if you don’t count the 4 years I spent in Ithaca[1]. So, yes, I live in a liberal bubble, and while I’ve driven across the country a couple of times and did a few weeks in a touring band and am as crushed as any heartlander about the demise of Waffle House, you have me dead to rights if you call me a coastal elitist. And with that in mind, I offer few surprises. A guy who grew up in the theater district and was vehemently opposed to same-sex marriage or felt you should own an AR-15? THAT would be newsworthy. I am not newsworthy. I can preach to the choir, I can confirm people’s biases, but I will likely not sway anyone who is eager to dismiss a Native New Yorker who lives in Hollywood. I grew up in the New York of the 1970s, and that part of my identity did shape my politics. My mom’s boss was gay and the Son of Sam posed a realistic threat. As such, gays are job creators[2] and guns are used for homicide much more often than they are used for self-defense[3]. I have found this to be generally true over the years, and there’s even data to back it up.

“But Mr. Bowie,” you might say, though I insist you call me John - “those studies are conducted by elitist institutions and those institutions suck!” And again, I am not going to reason with people who will dismiss anything that doesn’t fit their limited world view as elitist or, God Help Us, fake news. But the studies above are peer-reviewed, convincing, and there are more where those came from.

“But John,” you might say, and I am soothed that we’re one a first name basis - “Can’t you just stay on Twitter for the jokes?” Ugh. A) apparently not and B) the jokes are few and far between, and I am 100% part of that problem.

I have stuff to offer, but Twitter is not the place from which to offer it.

After years of academically understanding that Twitter is not the real world, Super Tuesday 2020 made the abstract pretty fucking concrete. If you had looked at my feed on the Monday beforehand – my feed which is admittedly curated towards the left, but not monolithic (Hi, Rich Lowry!) – you’d have felt that a solid Bernie surge was imminent, but also that your candidate was going surprise her more vocal critics. When the Biden sweep swept, when Bernie was diminished and when Warren was defeated, I realized that Twitter is not only not the real world, it’s almost some sort of Phillip K. Dickian alternate timeline, untethered to anything we’re actually experiencing in our day to day life. This is both good news and bad news – one, we’re not heading towards a utopia of single payer health care and the eradication of American medical debt any time soon, but two, we’re also not being increasingly governed by diaper-clad jungen like Charlie Kirk. Clouds and their linings. Leaving Twitter may look like ceding ground to the assclowns but get this – the ground. Is not. There.

It’s just air.

There are tangible things I can do with my time - volunteer with a local organization called Food On Foot, who provide food and job training for people experiencing homelessness here in my adopted Los Angeles. I can give money to candidates and causes I support, and I can occasionally even drop by social media to boost a project or an issue and then vanish, like a sort of Caucasian Zorro who doesn’t read his mentions. I can also model good behavior for my kids (ages 10 and 13) who don’t need to see their father glued to his phone, arguing about Trumps incompetence with Constitutional scholars who have a misspelled Bible verse in their bio (three s’ in Ecclesiastes, folks).

So farewell Twitter. I’ll miss a lot of you. Perhaps not as badly as I miss Simon Maloy and Roger Ebert and Harris Wittels and others whose deaths created an unfillable void on the platform. But I won’t miss the yelling, and the lionization of poor grammar, and anonymous trolls telling my Jewish friends that they were gonna leave the country “via chimney.” I will not miss people who think Trump is a stable genius calling me a “fucktard.” I will not miss transphobia or cancelling but I will miss hashtag games, particularly my stellar work during #mypunkmusical (Probably should have quit after that surge, I was on fire that night, real blaze of glory stuff I mean, Christ, Sunday in the Park with the Germs? Husker Du I Hear A Waltz? Fiddler on the Roof (keeping an eye out for the cops)? These are Pulitzer contenders.). Twitter makes me feel lousy, even when I’m right, and I’m often right. There’s just no point in barking bumperstickers at each other, and there are people who are speaking truth to power and doing a cleaner job of it – Aaron Rupar, Steven Pasquale, Louise Mensch, Imani Gandy and Ijeoma Oluo to name five solid mostly politically based accounts (Yes, Pasquale is a Broadway tenor. He’s also a tenacious lefty with good points and research and a dreamy voice. You think you’re straight and then you hear him sing anything from Bridges of Madison County and you want him to spoon you.). You’re probably already following those mentioned, but on the off chance you’re not, get to it. You’ll thank me, but you won’t be able to unless you actually have my email.

_______

[1] And Jesus, that’s worse – Ithaca is such a lefty enclave that they had an actual socialist mayor FOR WHOM I VOTED while I was there. And not socialist the way some people think all Democrats are socialist – I mean Ben Nichols actually ran on the socialist ticket and was re-elected twice for a total of six years.

[2] The National Gay and Lesbian Chamber of Commerce, “America’s LGBT Economy” Jan 20th, 2017

[3] The Violence Policy Institute, Firearm Justifiable Homicides and Non-Fatal Self Defense Gun Use, July 2019.

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pinksthetics · 4 years ago

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Flag anon back, that might be true about problems between bisexuals and pansexuals (and I know that’s not limited to non binary people, but also binary trans people based on what my bi friends tell me and what my trans friends have been told), but that’s not stated at all in the post? And OP was very clear that they could make a post specific to bi issues in the notes, but this still happened anyway. To me this felt like a real “all lives matter” moment and if I was good at image editing I’d be slapping that prison stripe straight pride flag onto this because I basically get the same thing out of either. Feels like an issue important to me brought up on a post about people like me is now about infighting within the “B” umbrella without even saying the word pansexual? I’m sorry it’s just frustrating because I know this week someone will be telling me that I can’t be a lesbian if I’m attracted to non binary people, but hey did you know that bisexuality means you can pick two genders (that’s where the bi comes from!) and you can pick non binary and women! That is the plot to literal conversations that I have had with people. Totally fair that pansexuals don’t have a claim to non binary people, but OP was telling people in the notes to stop making it about bi people - bisexuals weren’t excluded to be mean, they were excluded because people tend to be far more close minded about “homosexuals” and who they can be attracted to. Again I’m sorry, I’m just tired of having my identity policed and I’m frustrated and partly taking it out on you. People keep telling me and my trans friends that “bisexuality is the only moral sexuality” and that “the only people who could love a trans person are bisexual” so there’s a lot of real life harmful messaging there 😔

ok putting ur next ask and my response under the read more bc this got rly long

Flag anon again, okay I think I just needed to kind of yell that out into the empty void that is the internet. Sorry to have made you the victim of that dump, but I guess all of the things have been telling me and my repressed feelings have been swirling around for a while. Just to be clear I fully have nothing against bisexuals as people (the majority of my irl friends are bisexual and are thankfully super nice apart from the odd micro aggressive comment). It just rubbed me the wrong way that I get hateful messaging from some people in the bisexual (not pansexual) community specifically and I felt like the original post might be something that those bisexual people might see and maybe introspect on their attitudes, but with the addition I feel like all of that is lost in them fighting an invisible unnamed enemy. Either way, I guess I have some trauma and this post set me off a bit so I’m sorry again! I just hope people will remember the original point of the post above all else because there are a lot of posts I’ve seen about bisexual and pansexual issues related to non binary people, but there are far less for lesbians and gay men sadly 😔

ok i understand what you’re saying and i see that op doesnt want people to derail the discussion from talking specifically about gay and lesbian people but the original post did say “every sexuality” and i feel like at this point you’re talking about issues beyond just the point of this post. you’re completely valid as a lesbian for being attracted to trans and nonbinary people but it doesnt sit right with me that you have this much frustration towards bi people, whether you realize it or not.

the addition to the post really did not have any harmful messages as far as i see it, so it seems like your frustration stems from things that other people have said to you. im sorry that people have disrespected and invalidated you. however, the bi community is not “fighting an invisible unnamed enemy.” bi people face just as much invalidation and i recommend you look into that and try to understand it. there really needs to be solidarity between the gay and bi communities because, while we each face our own issues, theres a lot of overlap.

once again, i completely understand that the original post was specific to gay and lesbian people. its not uncommon for people to add to posts and take away focus from where it should be. if you look in the notes of any posts you’re bound to find some upsetting comments. the important thing is that you have the choice to just reblog the original or even make your own post.

i really hope you can speak with your friends about how hurtful their comments can be if they are saying things that come off as micro aggressions. and i hope you can find peace in solidarity throughout the lgbt community because honestly its counterproductive to create issues between communities. we all need a space to talk about the problems we face and we should all be supporting each other through it

#long post

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october-rosehip · 5 years ago

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30 Day OC Challenge: Day One; First Impressions

Zevran awoke in darkness.

No surprise, that. The dead were said to dwell in the Maker's sight. The Maker didn't want him, surely. He reached out to touch anything, and could not move. Something moved, however. His surroundings swayed and lurched. Did he drift in the void?

“Blast it all,” someone said in Fereldan. “My boot's coming unstitched.” Someone else sang softly in Orlesian. A third voice offered to fix the offending boot.

Probably not the void, then.

Fuck.

Zevran tried to move, again. His hands behind him and his feet together, refused. Ah. Wood under his body, a splinter stabbed his exposed thigh. Only after he noticed that, did he notice the pounding in his skull and an impending sense of nature's call. He gave a wry frown, feeling rough fabric across his cheeks. It had to be a blindfold. The last of his disorientation faded. He had failed to die.

He searched for his last memory. It was of a blank shield crashing down upon him as a distant voice yelled “Don't kill him!”

Fuck, again.

The world lurched, something creaked. Someone yelled “Whoa, Blackie!” and a mountain of weight crashed down upon him, burying, smothering- just as his stomach rebelled. He retched, but something covered his face. Bile filled his nose, burning. He kicked out- forget subtlety. His legs crashed into the wooden sides of the... cart? Carriage?

“Settle down!” yelled the man with the poorly kept boot. “It's just a spooked pony...”

Other voices clamored in the background but Zevran spared them no attention. He kicked again, hoping to spring the hatch he prayed existed. He couldn't breathe. Something cracked, thank Andraste. He choked on a cough and kicked one more time. The thing he connected with gave, and some of the weight fell off of him.

“Stop the cart NOW, Bodahn!” another voice yelled.

Before it could possibly have, the wood under Zevran shifted with more weight, some of the heavy corners pushing into him fell away, and arms wrapped around him. The world spun again, and both Zevran and whoever it was landed hard into damp earth.

Zevran wheezed and vomited out the last of his stomach's contents as slender hands held him up against a person’s chest chest and a voice whispered “I'm so sorry.” Louder, the man's voice shouted “Somebody bring me some water!”

Zevran coughed a few more times and took a deep, aching breath as soon as he could. The man holding him shifted as footsteps approached. A cool wet cloth wiped over Zevran's face. Magic washed over him in ripples. He shivered, but it felt very unlike the magic the Crow mages performed- less a cruel, purifying burn and more like drifting in a murky, green pool.

“I'm not a great healer,” the Warden murmured. For it had to be he, one of Zevran's own targets, who had saved him from dying a most undignified death. “But I hope it helped anyway. Water?”

Zevran nodded, not trusting his voice just yet. A waterskin pressed against his lips. He rinsed his mouth, spat, and drank just enough from it to clear his throat. He had no way of knowing how long he’d remain bound.

“I'm going to move you over a little and set you down, all right?”

What was with this man? What could Zevran do about it if it wasn't all right? Why did he keep apologizing? In battle, the mage had been... horrifying. His pale eyes held no life in them as he drained the essence from Zevran's hirelings. Ghosts danced around his ankles. Lightning flew from his hands and arced across a row of archers. Zevran nodded his assent to being moved, of course.

Despite being a mage, and no larger than Zevran himself, the man... Surana, that was it, easily shifted him over several feet. Strange. What kind of mage lifted more than a stack of books? The man set him gently down on the ground.

Another wave of magic buzzed from nearby. It felt almost furry. Alive.

“Morrigan?” Surana asked.

“We were unfollowed, Warden. I am certain.”

“All right, thank you.” And a hand snatched the cloth off Zevran's eyes.

He blinked in the light several times. His vision cleared and he found himself looking into the face of the Warden Surana, as he'd thought. Up close he looked so very young. Still eerie. Still with those cold, pale, eyes. Still dressed like a barbarian from the swamps, and several angry wounds showed wherever the hide, fur, and teeth left his skin bare. Nevertheless, a hint of worry showed in the man's features.

Old habits died hard. Zevran found him beautiful, with his full lips, glossy brown hair, and clear skin.

Zevran looked around at the others surrounding them. Curiosity lived in the young redheaded archer and the two dwarf non-combatants. Also on the dog, come to think of it. This was Ferelden, after all. He should think of the dog as a person. Everyone else- the older mage, the beautiful dark haired mage, the qunari, the larger Warden who had smashed him in the head- they all regarded him with increasing levels of hostility.

Somehow, somehow, Zevran had woken up in the same world he'd nearly left. He felt... grateful?! Relieved? Weak. You are weak, Zevran. You have no resolve. So be it. He found himself grabbing life with both hands. If he would survive this, his hope lay, strangely enough, with the elven mage.

Who issued a flurry of instructions related to setting up camp for the evening, as soon as they were done, here. The elven mage led this odd crew? Interesting, and lucky.

Zevran sighed. They may as well begin. “I expected to wake up dead, or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But, I see you haven't killed me, yet.”

The archer spoke with an Orlesian accent. “Macsen, may I have a quiet word with you?”

“A quick one.” He gripped his staff and followed her a bit down the road, within clear view of Zevran. He stopped when she did.

She whispered. “This man is a professional. I think you need to take care when questioning him.”

Surana spoke in a normal voice. “First off, he can hear you.” just as Zevran chimed in with “The pointy tips are not decorative, human.”

Calculated, on Zevran's part. It paid off. Surana laughed. “Yeah, she and I have talked about that.”

She literally, actually stamped her foot. “You are never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Probably not.” Surana wandered back in Zevran's direction. “If that was it, then let's get back to this really awkward conversation.” He sighed and gave a wry grimace. He faced Zevran. “Cards on the table, then. I figured you were hired to kill us. That was too much trouble to go to for a random robbery, and you knew who we were. I have questions.”

“So I am to be interrogated, then? Let me save you some time, and get right to the point.” And myself the trouble of being pried open by a hexer. “My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends, and I have sworn silence to no one. If I may ask, however, why did you bring me along? Have we traveled far?”

“Cart pace since midmorning,” Surana replied.

Zevran's blood ran cold. The sun speared late afternoon rays through the trees. Waking up so far from where one fell unconscious, so much later, was never a good thing. He had been intentionally separated from any potential allies, (which he did not have anyway but these people did not know that) but also... “A head trauma kept me under for so long, Warden?”

“No. We healed that as much as we could and gave you something for sleep. I'm not surprised you don't remember it. I-” The large, human Warden wandered over and placed a hand on his shoulder. Surana bit his lips together, face hardening before continuing. “The paranoia was mine. Several of your people ran off and I didn't want them interrupting us.”

“They would not have,” Zevran said.

“Local hirelings, then,” said the archer.

She was Orlesian, a musician who had disabled his traps and proved deadly in combat at once; she knew things like that, she ran in this company... bard. She had very possibly meant Zevran to hear her accusation but did not count on Surana being the man he was. Interesting.

Surana knelt before him where Zevran lay on the ground. “So, you're not denying being a professional. Who did you work for?”

Past tense. With a jolt, Zevran realized it was true. No matter what happened now, he was never going back. If they killed him, that would be that. If they didn't, he would just have to run as fast and far as he could. He could make his capture look like part of a longer game. But why do that, really, so they could just throw him away the next time it was politically expedient? “I was sent by the Antivan Crows,” Zevran replied.

“The elf is a crow? That makes sense.” The white haired, matronly mage strode into Zevran's view.

“I thought as much when I heard his accent,” said the obvious bard. “They are an order of assassins out of Antiva. They are renowned for always getting the job done, so to speak. Someone went to great expense to hire this man.”

“Loghain, right?” asked the Warden.

“Yes, that was it,” Zevran replied. “Though it was his lackey's idea.”

The warden stared hard at him before asking his next question. “How did you track us down?”

Zevran had been intimidated in the past by people who made a living of it, so he easily maintained eye contact. Still, an intensity emanated from the Warden as he asked that question. Somehow, this was a more important bit of information than the last, and the man expected bad news. Zevran had some bad news to deliver, but certainly the Warden expected to hear something specific.

“Warden, I do not know what you expect, but you and your companions stand out the tiniest bit. Travelers need money and shelter, no? Everyone from whom you have rented a room or for whom you have weeded a garden remembered you.”

“How did you... get them to tell you?” The already fair skinned man paled further.

Zevran suppressed a pang of insult. Why the void should he care what these people thought of him? “There is more to assassination than mere violence. I shared a drink and the latest news with everyone willing to do so with an elf.”

The Warden let out a relieved exhale. “I'm sorry. Of course. That's obvious now that you say it, but in my admittedly limited experience, people are willing to resort to harm for much less. Loghain, for instance. When were you to see him next?”

“I wasn't. If I had succeeded, I would move onto the next job and the Crows would inform your Loghain of the results, if he didn't already know. If I had failed, I should be dead. No need to see Loghain, then.”

“If you had failed?”

Damn this perceptive Warden. As far as Zevran was concerned, the only thing he'd failed to do today was die. Forget admitting that. “Hope springs eternal, eh? I am an optimist.” Fool. Are you trying to succeed, now?

But the Warden stifled another chuckle. “That's too bad. I was hoping you might be willing to trade your life for returning fire. It would solve a lot of this country's problems.”

“I cannot do that, Warden. It would not be right. I appreciate the offer, however.”

“Wouldn't be right? You're an assassin.” The large human man with the shield scowled down at him.

“Be that as it may,” replied Zevran, there are ethical boundaries I will not cross. We all have to draw the line somewhere, no?”

“I hear that,” sighed the elf Warden. “Are any more of you coming?”

“No. Only I had signed up for this, the last I knew.”

“So, what now, then? What happens now that you've failed?”

“If you choose not to kill me, the Crows will. Failure is not tolerated, you see.” Not that Zevran planned any such thing. The conversation had persisted this long. Hope, such an unfamiliar thing of late, glowed within him. A plan solidified.

“Eugh. I don't suppose it matters, but I'm curious all the same. How much did they pay you to take that kind of risk?”

“I was not paid anything, Warden. They bought me on the slave market when I was seven. The only choice I have had in the matter was which jobs I cared to take.”

The warden looked stricken. His gloved hands clenched.

Zevran had aimed for the man's empathy, not his pity. “But it is not so bad. There are certainly rewards for being a Crow. The retirement plan, however, is complete garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I'd really think twice about it.”

“I'll take that under advisement.”

“You seem like a bright lad, I'm sure you've other options.”

“Fewer than you'd think.” The Warden sighed and laid his staff across his knees. “But we still haven't sorted out the whole 'what now' issue. If I were to let you go, could I expect you to try again?”

“If you were to let me go I would not last a week. And no, you could not. There would be no point. The Crows will still kill me for failing the first time, and if you were to spare me, I could hardly repay you that way.”

“That is a lot to accept,” noted the man from earlier. “Do you believe him, Macsen?”

“Yes, I think so. But if you were to ask the First Enchanter, I have a problem with that kind of thing.”

“Warden, I do think I have a counter offer for you, if you are of a mind.” interrupted Zevran.

“Why not?” replied the elf... Macsen.

“My career as a Crow is clearly at an end, so why not let me serve you, instead? The only way to leave them would be to sign on with someone they cannot touch, and you are obviously the sort to give the Crows pause.” You gave me pause, as well.

“So, you get safety in numbers and I get... what exactly?”

“I am familiar with the ways of the Crows, of course, and I can spot future attempts, should there be any. I am also skilled in many things. I am willing to fight alongside you. I am well versed in the use of poisons, if that is useful to you. I am stealthy, and can pick locks. I am willing to perform more menial tasks, or stand around and look pretty, if you prefer.” He paused for emphasis. Something of a gamble, this. “Warm your bed, perhaps?”

“You're blushing, dear,” said the older lady.

He was, indeed. His cheeks bloomed rosy in seconds. “Darn it, Wynne, I noticed. And now I'm sure everyone else has, too.” The Warden buried his face in his hands.

This is the strangest mage I have ever met.

“You must think he's utterly stupid,” interjected the dark haired, younger mage woman. Her haughty voice revealed her as the one who had searched for tails, earlier.

“I think he is utterly gorgeous,” said Zevran. “I'm only hoping he's utterly stupid. Oh, wait, bad joke! I am sorry! Let me explain. It seems like a foolish thing to want to do, I know, but I am hoping he is the sort to take a chance now and then.”

“She's got a point, though,” added the Warden, somewhat more composed. “What kind of loyalty could I expect from you?”

Zevran probably shouldn't feel as affronted as he did. “I happen to be a very loyal person! Right up until I am expected to die for failing. If you are the sort who would ask the same thing, then I don't come very well recommended, I suppose.”

“I wouldn't, but in our current direction, death would be something of a natural consequence of failure.”

“I can accept this.”

“I bet. I'm inclined to take your offer. We need all the help we can get, to be honest.”

“Are you serious?” asked the human man, shocked. “We're taking the assassin with us, now?”

The qunari, standing of to the side, spoke in a mellow voice still dripping with derision. “At last we see the famed tactical genius of the Grey Wardens.”

“Thank you, Sten.” replied the Warden, with an eyeroll. “Fine, then. Let's go discuss this, over that way a bit. Will someone stay here to keep an eye on our guest?”

The young witch spoke up. “I have nothing to add to this discussion. If the rest of you are frightened of the big, bad elf, then I shall protect you all, hm?”

Boots crunched in the dirt and voices diminished behind him. The Warden led them far enough, this time, that Zevran didn't have much hope of overhearing the round table discussion concerning his fate. He had thought falling in combat would be so simple. He would die, the Crows would lose him without suspecting how badly they'd wounded him, and Rinna's betrayal would be repaid. Grey Wardens were not known for asking questions, but he had to go and find the only even-tempered Wardens on the planet. He had no idea what to expect from this bizarre group.

He hoped they’d sort things out soon. The chill of the ground seeped through his leathers, his arms hurt, he still felt thirsty, and nature was calling even louder. The sooner he either lay dead or had access to his hands, the better.

I suppose,” chimed the human witch, moving directly in front of him, “that this is some ruse to get us to let down our guard so you can poison us in the night?”

“If you believe that, why do you choose to remain here rather than argue that point with the others?”

“It will not matter. Concessions will be made. Macsen will try to ease everyone's mind, but in the end, his wishes will triumph. But tell me, elf; do you truly intend to change sides as quickly as that?”

“I do. I have few enough options at present, no?”

“Hmph. And yet you claim to be loyal. If you are, then this is all no doubt part of your plan. If you are not, then we still err if we keep you; which we will. Just watch.”

“Woman, what do you wish me to say? Do you simply wish to torment me? I can think of more pleasurable ways to do so.”

“Do not be vulgar as well as deceptive, elf.” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned down at him.

“Why ever not? I am, after all, bound and bloody at the feet of a beautiful woman. It seems the place for vulgarity.”

“Keep your meaningless flirtation away from me. I am not so vulnerable as some easy targets.”

Zevran fell silent. As luck had it, the other group had allowed their voices to raise during the witch's conversation.

“That seems um, uncomfortable and awkward, but if it'll keep the peace, all right,” said Surana. “For now, anyway. We'll revisit later.”

Hmmm. I gather that this means I have a “later” to contemplate, mused Zevran. I suppose I should be glad. He did not know how to feel about any of it, in truth. He had meant to die. Rinna deserved her vengeance, and he could no longer tolerate the direction of his life. And yet, now that it seemed he would not fall this day, the hope he felt earlier grew brighter. Still, if he was about to become the servant of a Grey Warden during a blight... I'm sorry, my love; I will likely join you soon enough.

The others headed back over.

Surana carefully untied Zevran's knots. “Welcome to your new career in woodland survival and saving the world.” He offered his hand.

Zevran took it.

#Dragon Age #30 day OC challenge #Macsen Surana #Zevran Arainai #Rosehiporiginal #It'll be easy #I said #drabbles at best I said #Then this monster emerged #I still wrote it too fast #forgive me if the editing is wonky

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setaripendragon · 5 years ago

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So I’m just... sitting in a weird creative rut at the moment. Like, I’ve got all these half-baked ideas that aren’t going anywhere so I can’t write them, so I can’t get them out of my system so I can’t come up with any more solid ideas. I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a room and someone’s just dropped three crates of interesting knick-knacks on the floor. Like, this is all so colourful and shiny, but... there’s so much? and they’re all so tiny? what do you want me to do with these???

SO. This is me venting. (And also throwing fic recs out into the void because I need someone to scream with about Supernatural, none of my irl friends have watched more than a few episodes.)

I got back into the Supernatural fandom recently, and I’m... god, it feels like heresy to even say it, bored with Destiel. Like, I still love them, I’m still eagerly awaiting Cas’s debut in my rewatch, but I’m also, like, looking at these thousands on thousands of fics about them, and I feel like... ‘yes? I know? God, I know these two are fucking soulmates?’ It’s how I usually get about canon pairings (that I like, anyway), actually. I just... don’t get invested (so much) in the fanfiction because, well, obviously.

On the other hand, I could really, really do with some good Dean/Cas/Gabe fics that aren’t The Nature and Kynde of a Lyon, or Frate, non far: ché tu se' ombra, e ombra vedi. (If anyone has an recs, send them my way, please, god.) I love that OT3 like you wouldn’t believe. (I should rewrite their entry for my OT3 drabbles series, cause I didn’t do them justice at all)

I want to write my own story about them. I want to write a fic where Gabe helps Dean deal with the trauma of Hell, where Gabe and Cas circle each other so, so carefully because Gabriel’s afraid of caring too much and then losing and Cas has ages old abandonment issues to deal with, I want to write Gabe shoving Dean and Cas’s heads together and being all ‘now kiss’, and Cas telling Dean and Gabe repeatedly that they are ‘very much alike’ when they each observe how much he cares about the other, and Dean being all insecure and bitchy because Gabe and Cas can relate to each other on a level he could never, and both of them having to come together to reassure him that, no, really, it’s not right without him.

I also really really really want Crobby-centric fics. It’s so hard to find them on Ao3 because it’s usually a side pairing to Destiel. And... it’s not like I don’t ship Destiel. I still love it. So I can’t just ‘exclude Destiel’ because... because then I wind up with side-pairings I don’t like? I just... I wish Ao3 had a ‘main pairing’ tag category, and a ‘side pairing‘ tage category, because what I really want is main pairing Crobby with a side of Destiel. I only have one Crobby fic rec, and that’s A Handful of Dirt.

I want to write a fic where Bobby and Crowley end up being really domestic together, and like, six months in, Bobby’s just like ‘lightbulb’ and then ‘damn, I can’t believe we coulda been having sex this entire time’. And then I want to write a Dean PoV Crobby centric fic where Dean has to face his internalised homophobia because of the Crobby, and has his own queer crisis, and Bobby is a Good Dad and the big emotional climax is Dean and Bobby having a chat (stilted and gruff because that’s just how they are) about it all, and Dean just... can’t say it out loud because he’s got John fucking Winchester’s predictable reaction in his head, and Bobby just claps him on the shoulder, gives him a little shake and is like ‘it’s alright, y’idjit’

(And in the epilogue Crowley surreptitiously slaps a ‘Not gay as in happy, but Queer as in FUCK YOU!’ bumper sticker on the Impala and Dean throws an epic shit fit and figures out it was Crowley and yells at him ‘you don’t go fucking defacing someone else’s fucking car, you hellspawn!’ and Crowley holds up his hands all ‘alright, alright, I’ll take it right off’ and Dean glowers at him and snaps ‘don’t you fucking dare’, because, hey, he does like the sentiment. It feels like something that fits him and his life more than cutesy little flags and all those weird-ass labels Sammy likes to throw around like the nerd he is.)

I so, so badly want to write (or read) a modern AU fic where Dean, Benny, and Charlie are Queer BFFs together. (Benny is Ace, fight me.) Maybe even a Leverage AU? Charlie is obviously the hacker, Benny’s the hitter, Dean’s the thief. (Bela is Charlie’s girlfriend, who they call when they need a grifter.)

Which reminds me, I need to go look for some Charlie/Bela, because I ship that so hard, you have no idea. I love them to pieces individually, they’d be so amazing together.

I also really want to write a fic where Dean and Sam get punted somehow into an alternate universe where everything is just... WEIRD. Like, a verse where the Men of Letters were still a thing, maybe even where John was one? Where John and Mary didn’t die, but got divorced, and it was messy and traumatic, and Dean has to confront the fact that the idyllic apple-pie childhood he remembers was a four-year-old’s rose-tinted recollection, not the truth. (I want Dean, Benny, and Charlie to be BFFs in that world, too.)

And Sam is married to Princess Mia, because I know it’s a crackship, okay, I know it was a fucking stupid ass joke on this stupid ass hellsite, but god do I ship it so hard. They have so much in common. They’re both ‘normal’ kids who got saddled with a ‘special destiny’ at birth (or close enough), which comes with a hell of a lot of responsibility (and a few perks), who keep trying to hold onto their freedom, and are actually super soft decent people who just wanna be happy and loved. (I am so very torn on whether I prefer it if it’s a literal world-merge and Sam is marrying actual European royalty, or if it’s an AU where instead of ‘surprise you’re a princess’ Mia gets ‘surprise you’re from a family of epic hunters’ (Julie Andrews as a badass hunter matriarch? Yes please.))

And I really, really want next gen shenanigans. Ben, and Claire, and Krissy, and Jesse, and Patience, and Jacob, and hell, even Lucas. (Instead of that weird ass ‘we’re being inclusive look women’ spin-off they tried to pitch) I want Ben and Claire bonding as not!sibling because their not!dads are totally gay for each other and being stupid about it. I want Ben and Claire getting into petty fights about who Krissy likes more because they both took one look at her and got massive life-ruining crushes on her. I want Claire and Jesse being BFFs, and Ben and Patience.

I may make a seperate post about the series I want to write about these kids. (It will be an epic post-season-8 fix it. Maybe I should turn it into an original series...)

I want to write a psychic wolves AU. I want to write a Daemon AU. I (do not) want to try and figure out a Hogwarts AU. I’m remembering my old crossover with Charmed that I had planned (doesn’t Patience just give you Charmed vibes?). I want to write time-travel. I want to write time-travel OT3 with Mia/Sam/Jess. I want to write time-travel where the next gen end up zapping themselves into the past for some reason.

God, wouldn’t that be fun? The kids trying to deal with teenage Dean and Sam? (I give it three minutes in the man’s presence before Jacob tries to eat John’s brains.) Or even have them older, and land just before the start of the series?

As you can see, I’ve got all these ideas, but there’s no real substance to them? Nothing that goes ‘yes that’s a story I can tell’ just... premises and moments and nothing really coherent.

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gilbvrtblythe · 6 years ago

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Doctor's Orders | Anne and Gilbert

Description: ER Doctor Gilbert Blythe is a professional, really he is. He never meant to get a crush on Anne Shirley, the writer who frequents his hospital due to her knack for getting into trouble. But there's something so entrancing about her that makes it almost impossible for him to stay away. A Modern AU where Gilbert is an ER Doctor and Anne is a patient of his who keeps getting injured in ridiculous ways.

Word Count: 3669

Fanfiction Masterlist | Archive of Our Own

Gilbert Blythe was not a fan of working night shifts in the ER.

It’s not because he minded the hours, going through medical school had given Gilbert the ability to function on little to no sleep, so that was a non-issue. His problem was that unless it was a Friday night or some partying holiday like New Year’s, nothing ever happened.

If he was going to work a 12 hour shift at the hospital, he at least wanted to be doing something. He didn’t want to be sitting behind the nurses’ station staring at the ER entrance just hoping someone would come in needing a doctor.

Which is what Gilbert was currently doing.

It had been a quiet night as it always was at the Avonlea General Hospital at 1:34 am on a Tuesday in the middle of May. Aside from Gilbert, his good friend Charlie Sloane, and the 3 other nurses working the night shift, the ER was completely void of people.

Gilbert was shaken from his reverie by something small hitting him square between the eyes. He lifted his chin up from where it had been resting in the palm of his hand to throw a look at Charlie, who was sitting in a rolling chair a few feet away.

“Seriously?” he asked, picking the paperclip up from where it had fallen onto the counter in front of him by his elbow. “A paperclip? Why?”

Charlie shrugged his shoulders and did slow spin in his chair, staring up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. “I thought you fell asleep,” he said simply.

“My eyes were open Charlie,” Gilbert said, giving him an incredulous look. “I was staring outside of the doors how could I have been asleep?”

Charlie let out a long, drawn out groan, lifting his head up straight again to look at him. “Fine, I’m bored and want someone to talk too. So stop daydreaming about some massive car pileup with lots of injuries and talk to me Blythe before I actually fall asleep.”

Gilbert scoffed and leaned back in his chair while crossing his arms. “I wasn’t daydreaming about a massive car pileup. That’s just morbid.”

“But you were hoping that someone would come in here needing a doctor?” he retorted, quirking an eyebrow with a smile that oozed self-righteousness.

“Oh like you weren’t wishing for the same thing,” Gilbert said, rolling his eyes.

Charlie opened his mouth the respond but closed it as he glanced towards the doora. “Dibs,” he yelped, shooting up out of his chair.

Gilbert spun his around chair quickly as Charlie rushed past him out from behind the nurses’ station. It was then that the automatic doors slid open and a man around his age entered the ER.

He held a bloody cloth napkin over his nose and his white button down shirt was no doubt ruined from what had already leaked through onto it. The faint whiff of alcohol he brought along with him disturbed the antiseptic smell given off by the recently cleaned floors and sterilized equipment.

“What? Charlie you can’t call di-“

“I’ll help you right over here sir,” Charlie said, his Doctor voice coming through instinctually. He waved the man over to one of the many free beds that lined the pristine white drywall. As the man sat down with a low groan, Charlie continued on with his usual spiel, picking up a tablet they used for electronic charting. “What brings you in here today?”

“I think my nose is bro-“ he paused, sitting up straight and looking over at the ER doors as they slid open once more. “HEY!” he yelled angrily at the 3 young women who walked in. “You’re gonna be paying for this!” He moved the bloody napkin away from his nose and gestured to it with his free hand.

“Like hell I will Billy!” one of the girls yelled back with a fire that matched that of the color her hair. “Try something like that again and I’ll make sure to aim further south!”

The redhead’s two friends started to laugh but yelped and stepped backwards as Billy moved to get off the hospital bed.

The girl, who was clutching her right hand and an ice pack to her chest, didn’t flinch. Her challenging glare never wavered in its intensity. Gilbert was slightly impressed by how she managed to stand her ground.

“Woah hey hey easy now okay.” Charlie rushed around to the other side of the bed. He gently pushed Billy’s chest in an attempt to get him to lie back down, which he did with a begrudging expression.

Gilbert walked out from behind the nurses’ station and gestured for the girls to follow him. “Here, I’ll help you in an exam room.”

They all gave him a quick thank you and filed in behind him as Gilbert reached a hand in to flick the lights on. The thin paper that lined the exam chair crinkled as the redhead sat down with a sigh, Gilbert closing the door shut behind him.

Her two friends stood against the wall to the right of the examination chair, the blonde one flipping her hair dramatically over a shoulder. The dark haired one, who seemed the most reserved of the three, began to chew her bottom lip anxiously as the redhead readjusted the bag of ice on her hand.

“Alright- well I’m Doctor Blythe and I’ll be taking of care of you this evening,” he said, breaking the silence with a smile. “Can I get your name?” Gilbert asked, his brown eyes meeting the blue ones of his patient.

“Anne Shirley,” she said, lifting her chin up slightly in a dignified manner. “And that’s Anne with an e.”

He raised an eyebrow amused, but scribbled it down as directed none-the-less on the notepad he kept in his white lab coat. “Alright Anne-with-an-e, what brings you into the ER today?” Gilbert asked, trying to hide the curiosity that had been bubbling inside since the skirmish he’d witnessed only minutes earlier.

“Her fiery temper,” the blonde friend muttered in response under her breath, but not quietly enough that no one could hear her.

The brunette friend smacked her on the shoulder with a gasp. “Ruby,” she hissed lowly, looking back at Anne with concerned eyes.

“What?” she said defensively a smile tugging at her lips. Ruby crossed her arms over the pink velvet dress she was wearing and looked Gilbert in the eye. “It’s true.”

He turned his gaze back to Anne who gave him a sheepish smile, taking the icepack off her hand with a wince. “I uh- think I broke my thumb.”

Gilbert nodded and sat down on the stool kept next to the examination chair. Anne held her injured hand out for him to take wordlessly, sucking a breath in between her teeth as he gripped it gently.

The skin of her thumb and surrounding knuckles were red and very cold from the ice pack that had been on them previously. The joint where the finger met the palm of her hand was already swollen.

With a feather light touch, Gilbert ran a finger over an area that was exhibiting a dark red/ pinkish hue, the beginnings of a bruise. Goosebumps erupted over Anne’s soft skin at the contact, her arm hairs standing up as she let out a shiver.

He glanced up at her, not bothering to hold back a smile at the blood rushing to Anne’s freckled cheeks. For the first time since they met, Gilbert was able to get a good look at her.

Anne had high defined cheek bones and a very cute nose that curled up at the tip in a way that seemed almost regal She looked to be close to his age, but the double French braids she adorned paired with the rosiness of her cheeks gave Anne an air of innocence and possibility.

Stray strands of auburn and fiery red hair fell around to frame her face and eyes, making them seem even brighter a blue by contrast alone. Every feature about her was striking, and they all came together to make one, very beautiful face.

The sound of someone clearing their throat drew Gilbert’s attention away from Anne with a start. “So, what do you think?” she brunette friend asked, looking between the two of them with a smug smile as if she caught them doing something scandalous.

Gilbert realized suddenly that he was still holding Anne’s hand like a man who was about to put a ring on his new fiancé’s finger. They made eye contact for a split second before he gently let go of her palm, hoping the action didn’t look as awkward as he felt.

“Well I think there’s definite a possibility Anne’s thumb is broken, but we’re going to have to get an x-ray to be sure,” he said to them, standing up off the stool. “Good news is since it’s 2 in the morning, the line for the x-ray machine is nonexistent so we won’t have to wait long to get one.”

“2am,” the brunette mumbled to herself, rubbing her temple with a groan. “I have class in 5 and half hours.”

Anne reached her non injured hand out to grasp her friends’ wrist. “You can go Diana. I’m all grown up now I don’t need you here with me. Plus Ruby’s here.”

Diana scoffed and shook her head. “Oh shush Anne Shirley I’m staying, it’s my fault you’re here anyway. I’ll just call in sick tomorrow.”

In the time they’d been conversing, Gilbert was able to finish putting in a request to Radiology for the x-rays he needed via the tablet all rooms had for patient charts.

Opening the door to the exam room, he turned back to face Anne. “If you’ll just follow me Ms. Shirley,” he said, putting his notepad back in front pocket of his lab coat. “We’ll go ahead and get that x-ray done.”

“Yay,” she cheered weakly, sliding off the exam chair. “Wish me luck guys.”

“Good luck!” Diana and Ruby chorused, as Anne stepped out into the hallway.

Gilbert closed the door behind them and began walking, Anne keeping up pace next to him. “Radiology’s on the 3rd floor so I hope you’re not afraid of elevators,” he said, glancing over at her.

Anne was a good head shorter than he was, even with the lace up boots she wore that probably gave her an inch or two. She held herself with poise and confidence, walking as if she were on air. So much so that her boots made no noise against the tile flooring.

“Don’t worry I’m not,” she said, pausing for a second before continuing with, “Can I ask you a question Dr. Blythe?”

He nodded his head as they turned down a hallway, the elevator coming into view at the end of it. “Sure… if I get to ask one in return.”

“Fair enough,” Anne agreed, giving him a once over while pursuing her lips. Gilbert was suddenly very conscious of the fact that he was wearing dark blue scrubs, old tennis shoes and a lab coat. “It’s just- well you seem kind of young to be a Doctor.”

He let out a bark of laugher, running a hand through his untamable dark curls before putting it in his pocket. “Yea I get that a lot,” he said, looking at the ground in front of him. “I’m a fifth year resident so I’m not a doctor doctor yet. I also skipped 2nd grade, graduated high school in 3 years, and finished my undergrad degree in 3 as well.”

“Woah,” Anne said surprised. Gilbert felt a surge of pride run through him knowing that he’d managed to impress her. “You’re either really smart or have a death wish.”

“It’s a little bit of both.” Gilbert pressed the up button on the elevator as they came to a stop in front of it. A mechanical ding sounded overhead as the doors slid open, the two of them strolled inside.

“Your turn,” Anne said as the doors closed.

Gilbert leaned his back against the wall and pressed the button for the third floor. “Alright,” he said, turning his head to look at her. “I’ve gathered from deductive reasoning that you messed up your hand from punching that Billy guy in the face with your thumb tucked into your fist.”

“Wow a Doctor and a Detective. Your parents must be proud.”

“They are thank you,” he retorted with a sweet smile. Anne grinned and shook her head with laughter. “Anyway,” Gilbert continued, “I just want to know why you punched him in the first place.”

Anne began toying the end of her left braid absentmindedly, scrunching her nose in disgust as if just thinking of the story itself made her angry.

“My friend Diana announced her engagement tonight to this French guy she’s been dating Jerry. I for one never thought that’s kind of guy she’d go for but if she’s happy with him I guess it doesn’t really matter. Poor Fred’s gonna be crushed though, I’ve always had an inkling that he never really got over her even though they’ve been broken up for years now.”

Gilbert’s confusion no doubt showed on his face because Anne took one look at him and smiled sheepishly. The elevator doors opened at that moment so they stepped out and continued the walk to Radiology.

“Sorry,” she apologized with a light laugh. “I tend to get carried away when telling stories. Anyway, we went to a bar to get wine and maybe some raspberry cordial to celebrate, it’s an old inside joke that we have. It was all going fine until I went back up to the bar to get a 2nd round.”

“That’s when Billy showed up?”

“Exactly. Billy Andrews showed up. We went to school together as kids, but we were never friends because he’s just plain awful. There are some things that should change with time as people grow older, but in the 5 years it’s been since I last saw Billy he hasn’t changed a bit. He’s still the same idiotic, self-absorbed, arrogant boy he’s always been.”

“So you punched Billy for being… well… Billy?”

“No I punched him because,” Anne paused, trailing off. Gilbert looked over at her and noticed that her cheeks had gone red again. “Well he kept trying to flirt with me, saying how beautiful I was now that I’d grown up, and I just couldn’t believe that he had the nerve to considering how mean he was to me when we were younger.”

Gilbert laughed and glanced over at her in disbelief. What an interesting patient Anne had turned out to be. “So you punched Billy because he said you were beautiful?”

“No! I punched him because of what he did after that. I kept ignoring him, just waiting for the bartender to show up with my drinks so I could go back to Ruby and Diana. But I guess Billy had enough of it because he grabbed one of my braids and pulled on it calling me ‘carrots’ to get my attention.”

“Oh no,” Gilbert said with a wince, already knowing what happened next.

“Yep. Oh no is right Dr. Blythe. Everyone one who knows me well enough can tell you that I can take teasing of any kind as long as it hasn’t to do with the color of my hair. And as Ruby said before I do have quite the temper. Once its set of there’s no chance of a rational decision being made, which is why I decked him in the nose. It was the first thing I could think to do.”

Gilbert was slightly disappointed when they finally arrived at Radiology. He didn’t want to end their conversation, he rather liked the sound and cadence of Anne’s voice.

It was smooth like silk, the words escaping her lips coming out in a dignified manner. The changes of tone and use of differentiating inflections created a mosaic, each word its own piece of colored glass.

Gilbert could’ve listened to her talk for hours, never growing bored.

He didn’t really get the chance to talk to Anne again until it was time to give her the results of the x-ray. He’d stayed with the Radiologist on call to wait for the results while a nurse took Anne back to the exam room.

X-ray’s in tow, he gave the exam room door two short knocks out of courtesy before entering. Anne opened her eyes and sat up straighter in the exam chair, covering her mouth to hide a yawn.

Gilbert hung the x-rays up on the light box, taking a look around the room with a raised eyebrow. Besides the two of them, it was completely empty.

“Where’d your friends go?” he asked, leaning his lower back against the counter.

“I convinced them to go home in an Uber. They left me the car and keys,” Anne replied, her eyes drawn to the scans that hung on the wall. “What’s the diagnosis? Am I gonna live?”

Gilbert smiled with amusement, even though he’d heard that joke so many times it had lost it’s comedic effect long ago.

“Unfortunately, your thumb is fractured,” he said, then pointed to the spot where the bone had broken on the x-ray, “right here between the two joints.”

Anne leaned back into the exam chair with a sigh. “Well this is just great. Isn’t it?”

“If it makes you feel any better, you get to choose the color of your cast,” Gilbert said, tilting his head sideways slightly. “We even have strips that glow in the dark now.”

“Haha, very funny. Not only are you a Doctor and a Detective, you’re also a Comedian,” she retorted, a smile playing at her lips. “Save a job for the rest of us common folk.”

“Someone will be down here shortly to fit you for your cast,” Gilbert said, making sure Anne’s distracting nature didn’t stop him from doing his job. “After that, assuming all’s well with the paperwork, you’re free to go once you schedule a follow up appointment 4 weeks from now.”

Anne rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. “Four weeks? I have to wear a cast for four weeks?”

“At the least yes.”

She exhaled through her mouth, stray strands of red hair flying about. “I’m going to get so far behind on my revisions. I can’t type nearly as fast with one hand.”

“You’re a writer?” he asked. That explains her extensive vocabulary, Gilbert thought, and obvious passion for telling stories.

Anne nodded her head. “Only part time though. I teach at a private school during the day, which thank the good lord in heaven is already out for the year,” she turned he head to look at him. “Did I really break Billy’s nose?”

Gilbert laughed at that, nodding his head with a grin. “Not terribly though. His septum wasn’t deviated or anything.”

She seemed pleased with that answer, a triumphant glint adorning her blue eyes. “Good riddance.”

He couldn’t help but agree, but Gilbert did so silently in an attempt to be somewhat professional.

When the Doctor from Orthopedics came down to fit Anne with her thumb spica cast, he left the exam room so they could work. If he’d stayed in there, Gilbert was sure he’d end up in another conversation with Anne, one that wasn’t totally professional for him to be having with a patient.

It was too soon for him to say whether or not he had any sort of crush on the girl, but he definitely liked talking with Anne. There was no denying that or the fact that Gilbert got an odd flutter in his stomach anytime she laughed at one of his jokes, or anytime their eyes met. Or anytime she tucked a stray strand of red hair behind her ear.

Okay, so maybe he had a little crush on her… but it didn’t matter.

If they’d met on the street or at some coffee shop in town, he might’ve asked her on a date, or at least gotten her number so they could talk more.

But, they met at the hospital, where Gilbert was a Doctor and Anne his patient. Once again, he was an unlucky victim to matters of circumstance.

Charlie and Gilbert both looked up from the game of solitaire they’d been playing as the exam room door opened. The Ortho Doctor held it open for Anne who gave him a smile as they parted ways. She walked up to the nurses’ station and held up her casted right hand for Gilbert to see.

“So? What do you think?” Anne asked, showcasing her orange cast. “I know it’s not a very practical color, but I figured if I ever get frustrated I could just use the color as reminder of what I did to get it. And just how worth it was despite the pain and itchiness.”

Gilbert stood up out of his chair. “I think it’s perfect,” he said with a chuckle, handing her a Doctor’s note with an amused smile. “I’m sure you got all the information about how to take care of the cast from the other guy but it’s all listed in here too. You can take over the counter medicine as directed for pain and your follow up appointment with Ortho Doctor is on-“

“June 13th,” Anne finished for him. “10 o’clock. One of the nurses already scheduled it with me.”

He nodded his head with a hum of agreement. “And until then I suggest that you don’t punch with your thumb inside of your fist… should you ever need to break another man’s nose again,” Gilbert said then added with a playful smirk, “Doctor’s orders.”

Anne’s cheeks flushed with color as she shook her head with a smile. “Noted,” she said, her blue eyes meeting his one last time. “Thank you Dr. Blythe.”

“It’s my pleasure Anne-with-an-e Shirley.”

#anne with an e #awae #anne of green gables #aogg #shirbert #shirbert fanfiction #anne shirley #gilbert blythe #shirbert au #hospital au #fanfiction #off

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bloomvalyria · 6 years ago

Note

I am not trying to be mean of anything, just curious. Why do you like sparxshipping? Like I just don’t understand and want to know from your POV why!

12/30/18: Hey guys! I wanted to announce that I heavily edited bits of this to more accurately convey my points (especially with the age difference part because i don’t believe i worded that as eloquently as i should have). I would also just like to add that thisparticular post mainly involves my personal opinions about Sparxshipping. Thereare plenty of other Sparxshippers out there who might share the same opinionsas me or have their own differing opinions. I was simply asked about why I liked it; therefore, I answered.

Sparxshipping is a very delicate subject infandom. In fact, I would be so bold as to say it’s the most hated non-canonship in the Winx Club fandom. Therefore, if you’re a fan of it, chances are youdon’t talk about it much because you’re going to get shit on. And, clearly, Idon’t tag most of my Sparxshipping posts in the Winx Club tag due to the nasty response I’m sure to receive. But what the hell! I have a major migraine and I’m in the mood to piss some people off. I have some time to talk about a few points.

So, let’s talk about Sparxshipping, shall we?

For me, I like Sparxshipping for many reasons but mainly because of how well their personalities complement each other. And I’m not talking the good vs. evil bullshit either. What I am talking about is how there is no ‘one is one step behind the other’ situation –they’re equal. They’re equal in their wit; their determination; their initiative; their thirst for power; I could go on. It just makes them so much fun to write, especially because they’re so similar that no one can really ignore it. Hell, at the end of season 3, Baltor even admits that they’re the same (idk if he says that in the other versions; i didn’t watch them). So, seeing and realizing those same personalities traits that Bloom and Baltor share was just something i thought was, to be frank, really cute. It’s like they’re so similar they can’t stand it; it’s great.

That’s personallyhow I view it. I could go more in-depth with it, but I know the majority ofpeople who are reading this that criticize Sparxshipping could not care lessabout personal opinions. They’re very set in their opinions, which they havethe right to have. Therefore, I’d like to take this time to address the typicalquestions that are bound to hit this post (‘Isn’the the villain?’ ‘He’s tried to murder her and her friends countless times!’‘He helped destroy her realm!’ ‘What’s wrong with you?’ ‘Isn’t he like 20-30-40years older than her?’ ‘That’s so gross!’) and do what I’m pretty sure no one else on this website has doneand actually respond to them.

So sit back andlet your ass be educated for a minute.

Now, I know the main thing for many people as to whythey don’t like Sparxshipping is because of one very sensitive topic: the agedifference. And my response to that is this: we as a fandom know little tonothing about Baltor. People automatically jump and say ‘Oh he’s like 20 years olderthan her, that’s disgusting!’. Okay, how do youknow that? Have we been given a birth year? No, we haven’t. We don’t even knowif he was born or if he was simply created into existence looking like he doesnow (which is my best guess). We don’t know. We know nothing about his past;therefore, to try and discern his age is pretty pointless. Most(including myself) have come to the conclusion that based on physical appearance alone hecould be anywhere from his mid twenties to early thirties. However, I wasreminded by an anon that he was around when Griffin was a teenager and he looksthe exact same. So the only way I can potentially describe the age situation isthat Baltor is the Edward Cullen of the Winx Club universe (And no, that is notme comparing the couples). Bella was 17, and Edward looked 17 but he wasactually over a hundred years old. So either he was poofed into existence to eternally look the same age, or when he decided to join the Ancestresses, he was ‘born’ into Darkness and it has prevented him from aging.

Plus, to go the extra mile, for those who keepyelling about how Bloom is supposedly underage, yes: the underage issue is abig thing that’s been talked about in the Sparxshipping community for a very long time. However, I know there are fanfic writers out there who do actuallybump up Bloom’s age for the purpose of avoiding this topic because this isfanfiction and you can do that. However, I’m fairly certain that in Season 3 Bloom is actually 18, or if she’s not she’s 18 in my eyes. (I know there is also a post somewhere on tumblr that actually broke down the ages of the girls to prove that Bloom isactually 18 in Season 3 to prove the underage issue null and void, and if I canfind that post again I’ll be sure to come back in and link it.)

Let’s move on, shall we?

As I’ve said,Sparxshipping is a much hated pairing. Mostwould pinpoint the origin of this hatred to the villain-hero trope that theship displays and that some people have an aversion to such a union. However,I’d pinpoint it even further beneath the surface all the way down to the nittygritty old FanFiction days. In these days, horrible (and I mean horrible) fic tropes came out to play –avery popular one being Stockholm Syndrome. And, unfortunately, for many Sparxshipping writers who came to the archive, we were in a sense brainwashed into thinking this was okay because these malicious tropes were being praised since it was quite literally all the archive had. No one was attempting to write the ship in a more flattering light, per se. So, if you’re an outsider looking in, you’re going to see some pretty fucked up shit going on if you go to some of the older fics and instantly be turned off from the ship. Nowadays though, there are Sparxshipping fics being filtered in that do not involve these tropes and are promoting a healthier relationship between the two. And if you haven’t read any of those, I highly recommend you do.

’OH MY GOD HOW CAN YOU MAKE IT A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP?? HE HELPED MURDER HER PLANET AND HAS ATTACKED HER AND HER FRIENDS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS! DID YOU FORGET THAT???’ Wow. Thank you. I never realized that that’s the reason why Bloom hated him so much. Thank you for opening my eyes. But, you know, there’s this magical thing about Sparxshipping that most critics seem to never have pointed out before that I’d like to ask them: When did we ever say that we’ve forgotten all the god-awful shit Baltor’s done? We’re very aware of what he did, guys. We watched the show just like all of you. We’re not excusing what he’s done, and in our writing now we don’t excuse what he’s done. There’s something in real-life relationships that many couples struggle with –it’s called forgiveness. And it’s very intricately woven into Sparxshipping. It’s so intricately woven, in fact, that when some writers attempt to write it, it doesn’t come across very well, making our ship look even worse. It’s definitely one of the more difficult aspects of writing this ship. But, as I previously stated, we’re not excusing it, and if you think we are then you couldn’t be more wrong.

Anyway, this post became much longer than I intended it to, and certainly not as articulate as I’d hoped. But I’m in agonizing pain, and I need sleep. Also, if anyone would like me to elaborate on any details in this, feel free to let me know! I always look in my inbox, and will answer you as soon as I possibly can!

Image: Zeta-La-Angie on VKText Added In by Me

#winx club #sparxshipping #winx #bloomxvaltor #bloomxbaltor #image cred is at the bottom

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youthfuldirt · 3 years ago

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Its not your responsibility to listen to me and my bullshit.

But this is my way of telling you,you matter to me amongst the strangers that come by into our quick lives. And if your listening even as I complain endlessy about the same matter, or get overdramatic at a minor inconvenience, Im not sharing this to make all my problems yours,or ask you to solve it for me, or only to hear words of comfort (that is nice) but Im talking to someone I expect to listen, these fragments of emotions and experiences that sound bothersome and common (often cringey) of mine are a part of me and who I am, and It may be subject for improvement and there are things that are hella annoying coming from me, Im not the best person out there, but I am thankful to have you people around me, and Im sorry if I am asking too much, if to lend an ear is hard for you. But I am thankful.

Honestly the thing is, I think I just want to feel like the world hasnt given up on me yet. Like I matter, because I am trying to keep up. And I dont know where it all started but I am fucking weak. I cant take a confrontation because my brain wont take them as something constructive, As much as I seem distant and uncaring, I actually get hurt and I carry small issues like its poison running in my veins, although I am quick to forgive, I am slow to heal.

I may forgive a person but Ill be holding on to a memory of pain even if I make an effort of letting it go. I think people my age often feel the struggle and hopelessness while saying everything is all right when nothing truly is, I somehow think everyone is as lonely despite being appreciated and loved. Sometimes we cant even pinpoint the actual cause of these heavy load of nothing , is it our career? Were we not who we wished we would be? Our family who makes us feel as if we werent trying and were too suffocated, pretending to play a role they expect us to, and we can't tell them our smallest pains because were afraid they will say "thats a part of growing up get used to it,you have to face it anyway" and just get dissappointed, some may be fortunate to be accepted, but I think its because some of their own hopes and dreams get passed down on us in the form of expectation and demands. While Some of us have already become non existent people to their parents even before we get into maturity.

People will just say Im lonely and that friends arent there to babysit my shortcomings.

And that if you want someone to cater to your emotional needs maybe you need a special other half

I am lonely in a sense that I feel like Im screaming and all I hear is my own voice bouncing back.

But I am not interested in pulling off a romance themed life. I am as they call it an ♠️, and that even makes things worse. Because I have to eventually do it right? Youre a liar if you say you dont want it . Youll eventually find someone. And I know it all I just havent allowed myself to be a participant. And I dont have the right to feel upset about finding out the person whom I shared my truth about me being basically a plant, actually thinks im in a dysphoria. And they cant tell me how they lost theirs because I wont understand and I might feel bad about being an extraterrestrial rare plant who does not exist in the category of sexual beings because I chose to. Its should not be a problem but I feel sad knowing theyre havinv trouble sharing an important experience just because Its not my fave topic. But does it matter? If its important to you Ill listen enough to try and care even if I really dont. But still I know damn well that feeling . Its an itch. A fucking catterpillar.

But Im yelling into the void asking where my friends are and its all static and if they do answer, Are they doing it out of respect to the friendship or because they still want me around. And if you want me around, why don't you tell me your troubles too. Why do I feel burdened of telling you all about my storm when you dont do the same, and how is it that you don't ask for my company. And say you cant meet me right now but its okay to tag along with some other friends, and as much as I dont want to feel bad about such matters ,I do though. As it makes me feel invisible to someone I value.

Like I want to hate you and make you feel terrible about it but what good does do?

I cant force people to be interested. Maybe we just got older and grew tired of everyone around us. Maybe we want something new, and bitter as it is maybe its time to seal the damn lid.

You cant hear me and I wont hear you either.

Ah to be lonely and alone and lonely and alone and indifferent and be a bitch everyone forgets about.

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imadethisatage11 · 3 years ago

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Live-blogging my reaction to Spiral: from the book of saw

Spoilers under the cut

TL;DR: my overall review is that it was good but I’m going to go watch DPS to cleanse me

- ok so that woman got robbed and for what

- I had to pause to find out who this detective’s actor was Bc it was driving me nuts and it’s MCMURRAY FROM LETTERKENNY???

- love that they’re gonna fuck up this train conductors day lmao

- LOVE genuinely that we’re back to looking gritty and having an old tv play the video and having some rapid cut camera work early 2000’s vibes I embrace you

- why does the voice sound like that,, I wasn’t expecting John but why is it so non threatening now it’s literally just Some Guy™️

- I am glad I paid $15 to listen to Chris Rock talk about Forrest Gump. Worth my money and I mean it genuinely I love Chris Rock he’s great. Stream Everybody Hates Chris on Hulu

- “Z?” Zeke who just had his cover blown: this MF

- “do I look like a fucking Jamaican nanny?!” I- 😀🤚🏽

- ayo Max Minghella

- Chris Rock falling just short of being convincingly aggressively cynical Bc he is Chris Rock with the voice of Chris Rock

- it sounds like he’s setting up jokes that don’t have punchlines and instead they’re just like,, mediocre cynic cop dialogue

- while looking at some pretty fucking intact teeth: this bum is gonna be pretty hard to ID

- I mean I guess the homeless don’t have dental records but were you not even gonna try?

- I’m very pleased Chris Rock put on gloves before handling the strange package I love actually smart character choices that would make sense for them to make

- I.e. the cop knows how to properly handle unexpected unmarked packages delivered to the precinct

- “I thought the jigsaw killer was dead” “well if it’s another copy cat…” another wait is that referring to Logan (which Logan pinned on the other coincidentally crooked cop whose name I’ve forgotten) does that imply Logan only did like? The one trap? And hasn’t been active? Just waited ten years after John died recreates the one trap he was in and then stops?? I mean don’t get me wrong if movie wants to ignore Jigsaw (2017)’s existence I’m game but like what

- also why do the packages look like they’re wrapped in Tiffany boxes lmao

- oh yay they did run dental

- Chris Rock is an asshole but they should go with protocol if that’s what they’re doing

- ordering a man mid piss out of the men’s room to yell at Zeke

- does conflict of interest matter when the whole precinct knows the victim?

- uncomfortable stand-offs with your ex while at the home of a grieving friend

- Samuel L Jackson!

- “I could’ve killed you!” “What are you talking about, I have the gun!” *SLJ pulls a gun out* “I could’ve killed you”

- daddy issues

- “you think this is linked to John Kramer?” Bruh you think it’s NOT??

- ik this is SO far fetched but I rlly hope this movie tells us wtf happened to Dr Gordon. I’m sure it won’t but a girl can dream

- “should we tell Zeke?” “Fuck him” I get you guys don’t like to work w him Bc he’s an ass but like. You’re just not doing your jobs now you’re just proving he’s right that you’re untrustworthy

- splitting up and not telling ppl where you’re going is the number one way to get kidnapped or murdered but way to go cop instincts

- what is this Chinese finger trap ass shit

- love the blue tones tho very Saw

- all it needs is to become uncomfortably green

- fun fact I actually watched the first saw w my friend who is red green color blind and he said it looked AWFUL and I was like oh yeah everything is blue tinted like twilight blue tint and later it’s green just FYI (he thought that made significantly more sense than whatever shit ass color palette he was perceiving)

- being mad at your son for turning in a dirty cop Bc now you’ll have to mess with internal affairs

- and then assaulting someone??? SLJ is an even worse asshole lmao

- another Tiffany box bound in twine maybe it’ll be one of those cheesy diamond heart necklaces

- HELLO what is that ugly ass pig puppet

- also the voice is so stilted did the killer use fuckin text to speech so they couldn’t unscramble the voice like they did to Hoffman?

- cops finding dead pigs, a little on the nose

- oh so this dude has a history of “fuck it” ok well screw that guy then

- SLJ deserves to be pissed at that cop for letting Zeke get shot but like what an unhinged man he threatened to kill him and then actually assaulted him HOW did he EVER get in charge to begin with

- ok wait is Zeke actually the only decent cop (inc his dad but maybe excluding the newbie)

- that is a truly gruesome way to lose fingers tho I must say but he deserves that shit

- wait did the trap not go fast enough or was there a way for him to do that faster and I missed it

- like should he not have hesitated Bc there was a time limit or was it just rigged

- cuz the machine had to pull them off he couldn’t just cut them quickly

- so are they just gonna leave broken leg Dude there or

- also just now I tried to talk abt this movie (so far) vs Jigsaw (2017) to my mom and I got too excited and referenced some character names she didn’t know and she shut me down and said she didn’t care 😀

- live-blogging to my, like, five followers that compromise one one (1) person that knows me IRL, one (1) Sawtual, and a handful of ppl only here for my main DPS content to fill the void of emotional parental neglect. What a great website

- oh no did the rookie die :( he was actually sweet

- I feel like he was too important to kill offscreen tho

- like they’re TELLING us he .. was skinned.. but was he REALLY

- Chris Rock having a revelation: AH FUCK

- everyone else at the crime scene: ….

- favorite thing abt movies that were already gonna be rated R is when they’re like “well if we’re already at R we might as well say fuck”

- she has to SEVER HER SPINAL CORD? Why was she deemed the biggest asshole

- also how on earth was this trap portable it IS in their basement right

- transporting the hot wax is just what gets me

- Chris Rock rn: are you tired of being nice? Don’t you just wanna go apeshit?

- was this abt his dad the whole time???

- does it count as live blogging when I do one big post instead of several small ones lol I just want it to be avoidable for ppl who are just here for Dead Poets Society

- man’s fully abt to cut his arm off like barely even hesitated long enough to notice the bobby pin he could pick the lock with

- there’s a body here suspended

- not hanging mind you

- but covered and suspended

- and I bet it’s the newbie

- ah damn it’s Pete that’s disappointing

- it’s possible the trailers just made him seem more important than he was

- why are they punishing Zeke for reporting a dirty cop and having his career accordingly ruined like he did the right thing and already suffered for it? This killer doesn’t like crooked cops?? Why does Zeke have to be tortured by hearing this dude die like that’s what they want isn’t it?

- I think it’s too late pal

- the glass trap was pretty fucking cool though

- I KNEW HE WAS ALIVE

- I didn’t think he was a MURDERER but I KNEW he was alive

- OH SHIT THE DIRTY COP ZEKE TURNED IN KILLED NEWBIE’S DAD??

- I’m terrible at guessing endings but it makes viewing more fun

- honestly,, do it Chris Rock ACAB

- “you want me to kill cops?” “No, fuck no, just the bad ones”

- what a fun villain though

- I have no idea what the Ultimate Game Plan™️ is here though is he gonna make him kill his dad? I mean his dad does suck but making a dude KILL his DAD? That is a tall order Max Minghella

- ok but literally why wouldn’t you listen to him here shoot the target??

- ANGIE! It WaS aNgIe

- killing this man is not correct justice anyway Zeke

- shot the target! Good man

- groovy of them to play the Hello Zepp soundtrack rn

- oh shit what’s going on SLJ knows what it is

- oh.. w o w. Brutal way to go. Very heavy handed imagery

- and that’s all I guess who the fuck knows what’s up w Doctor Gordon

- and I guess Max Minghella is just gonna get away now but tbh Chris Rock only seemed truly mad at him for involving his dad

- nice rap remix to the OG Hello Zepp score very cool credits music

#spiral #spiral from the book of saw #live blogging #spiral 2021 #mini vent

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elizabethrobertajones · 7 years ago

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I remember once reading a post about how destiel pov is usually only on one character while the other looks disinterested and this is kind of the feeling I'm getting from s13 too Dean is all about Cas and mourning Cas and TFW and Cas is all "k. Bye". :/ im getting kinda uncomfortable since 12x19 with Dean crawling after Cas begging him to to choose them and Cas continuing to not do that (part of why I hoped Cas was brainwashed and not intentionally leaving Dean)

I hope that wasn’t my post because it was a little more complex than “one feels one way and the other looks disinterested”

https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/165634856748/elizabethrobertajones-bluestar86

I wrote this about how there’s a narrative POV about whose emotional arc is carrying Destiel. That doesn’t have to mean whoever has it is basically just shown to be unrequitedly pining. For example in season 4 you can comment a lot on how Cas seems to be falling for Dean before, you know, literally falling for him, but the POV of the season is entirely on Dean and the only Cas POV we get is stuff where he’s hanging out talking to other angels doing angel business and his personal arc stuff. There might be some incredible Destiel scenes like when he rebels in 4x22 but Dean’s the POV in the scenes even if Cas is the one reacting and doing stuff which is powering things along. Or 6x20 is entirely from Cas’s POV but we see Dean contribute plenty of angst to the drama and we still know how he feels, it’s not hard to guess when it’s written all over his face and how he struggles with what he’s discovering when we’ve been with him all season already, but every scene is given to us from Cas’s perspective because he’s narrating it.

I mean obviously there are times when one of them is emotionally unavailable such as the rest of season 6 being from Dean’s POV, or season 9 - 10 where Dean has the Mark and so the emotional arc is all on Cas’s shoulders… Again not because the other is completely void of feelings on the other side during these times, but because there’s a narrative device keeping them from expressing them or acting on them or whatever.

I’m pretty confused by the apparent reading a bunch of people have that Cas isn’t giving back feelings to Dean at the moment, which seems to have sprung out of lingering uncertainty about Cas’s state of being (which I just can’t see at the moment with any indications from the show that Cas is not himself in a fundamental way) or perhaps disappointment since the sneak peek for 13x06 that the reunion was understated.

I feel like I just watched one of the most ridiculous stretches of non-stop Destiel nonsense the show has ever delivered, starting 12x19 and relying on both characters to tell it.

Obviously we have Dean missing Cas in the build up to it, and Cas leaves as he does in the end of 12x19, and Dean continues angsting about it on the phone to Mary before shit hits the fan… Cas has the emotional POV in 12x19 but it relies on the theme of clarifying who you’re talking about and different levels of personal investment, which is only clarified in a bad way for Dean asking not to be included in Sam’s cheerful greeting of Cas, but then through the episode shows Cas and Dean still have a bigger personal investment in each other even when Cas only ever speaks about “sam and dean” as a unit. I don’t think that’s narrative POV on the Destiel arc because Dean’s still doing the heavy lifting, making it a weird episode where Cas has the POV but Dean has the Destiel POV, perhaps because of their epic misunderstandings about feelings which are a major major theme between them. But for all the generic concern thrown around, this episode had the mixtape exchange among all the other stuff between Cas and Dean when they were in the same room which made it clear they specifically focussed on each other.

And obviously while 12x23 was from Sam and Dean’s POV (even stuff like Cas going into the AU world was cut off so that we could react with Sam and Dean to AU Bobby, not with Cas), and there was very little interaction, Cas still did that bizarre thing where all the living Winchesters piled into his house and he said “Dean,” followed by, again singling Dean out in his attention and healing him, which had also happened in the end of 12x19. Even if Cas is not the POV there’s things thrown in to show that in amongst everything else and Cas losing control of the narrative after he was Jacked, he still blatantly cares about Dean and that he and Dean single each other out.

I suppose the Dean POV on how he feels about Cas has been utterly utterly in your face this season so far which might be another reason why it seems like Cas is giving less back. I do think, though, that it has not ALL been on Dean. In 13x03 Jack wakes up Cas after Dean manages to clarify some feelings about Cas at least in relation to how Sam is feeling. It darkly mirrors 12x19 where Dean clarified that he was mad at Cas when he came in the door, but this time positively for his FEELINGS about Cas, even if he’s now screaming in Sam’s face about it. The clarification that he cares that much about Cas is something that has been hovering unsaid for a long time despite their entire history of being singled out for each other, it’s become more blatant as the family has become more integrated, and pretty much since season 9 when Dean had to ask Cas to leave the Bunker, the weight has been on his say on whether Cas is part of the family or not. Thematically, obviously. In the wider narrative. Sam does a lot to make Cas feel at home, in 8x22 and the start of season 11 just off the top of my head as moments when Sam and Cas & the Bunker as home were a thing, but it’s Dean who has the big dramatic say. The main emotional arc impact. It pretty much goes without saying that Sam will welcome Cas and make home comfy in the Bunker. There’s no issue there at all :P

Anyway, Jack is overhearing Sam getting yelled at for not appreciating just how painful it is to look at him and only see Cas dying, and this creates the void of Cas in their lives in Jack’s heart powerful enough to nudge Cas in the Empty. I see it as Dean putting out this fact into the world for the first time, and that demanding an ANSWER. Cas waking up is a response to Dean making it clear how hurt he has been by Cas’s death. The theme of clarification, using your words, etc, has meant Dean has finally let words out that would have been awfully useful for Cas to know in life, and lo and behold he is awake. It’s a narrative question and answer to me. Dean feels this way about Cas - Cas is in the least possible state to ever find out, but now the story has changed, is this enough for Cas? And the answer is, yes, he wakes up now.

In the Empty Cas is challenged by the sleepy void about why he is awake, and it attempts to beat him and then his feelings into submission so that he will give up and go back to sleep. Dean off on the other side of the story is literally linked to Cas when he asks what linked all the victims - the answer is, their grief, and cut to Cas. Or when he says what is burned stays dead - and the answer is, no, look how Cas is doing over here, up and awake and wandering around and fighting to come back. Dean says he has no hope, and the obvious answer is, well you might not now but look who just woke up back on earth. I think it’s important to remember that narrative structure of Dean “interacting” with Cas in the Empty when talking about it because Dean is intrinsically linked to Cas over and over in 13x03 and 13x04 by his statements and the subsequent dramatic irony or narrative, like… eyebrow wiggling… they’re doing. (I’ll be honest, I have a headache so I can’t remember all my literature degree stuff :P) Because I think Jack just brought Cas back because of his OWN issues missing Cas and obviously what Kelly said about him being an angel to watch over him which he felt he was sorely lacking. But the way in which it all happens is tuned directly to Dean’s feelings.

And then we get, in the Empty, Cas’s little feelings. The Empty telling him he doesn’t want to go back, not in a dismissive way but in a I know how you feel and I know you don’t want to way. These scenes HAVE to be Cas’s emotional POV and if he won’t say it, the Empty will for him. It doesn’t matter if he’s not EXPRESSING these things for himself, the important thing is the scene is ABOUT Cas and it’s giving us an explanation of his emotions. That “Sam and Dean need me” is being put out there as Cas’s reason to go back despite the fact he doesn’t want to, that he’d shackle himself back to the same burden that got him killed, that in 12x19 we could see was destroying their relationship even BEFORE it got him killed. We’re getting a direct exploration of the things which last season kept Cas at an awful range of miscommunication to Dean. The stuff he never said to him or explained to Dean so badly Dean didn’t even get why he was saying it when it seemed too obvious to him that they all need to be together as a family and obviously Cas is family and obviously they should do everything side by side.

And so the Empty crouches down by Cas and says, “I know what you hate. I know who you love. I know what you fear,” with intonation that shows these concepts flow from the stuff they’ve already covered - Sam and Dean need me, nope that’s not it, I know this situation as it is inside your head and I am not scared to tell you what you’re thinking. That you hate being treated like this. You hate treating YOURSELF like this. I know who you love (and, incidentally, I’d know that you said already that you love all the Winchesters, because hi I’ve been inside your head so there’s nothing I don’t know). I know that there’s some secret that makes me drop my voice to a conspiratorial whisper to tell you that I know who you love, even though it’s just you and me awake in this whole wide Empty void of Nothing. Because to you it’s something deeper, something quieter, something less-spoken than anything you’ve voiced so far…

(Sidenote though - obviously it’s been voiced IN the narrative already and gets us no further than 4 years ago and “he’s in love…. with humanity!” etc because that entire build up was ENORMOUS and built up to the pay off… of what we got in 10x01-3, which obviously did not make Destiel canon or Cas’s feelings any clearer than a wistful comment about finding love on earth and wanting to stay, and then Cas left anyway and people were upset that Cas had left right when Dean seemed to be remotely operating his own feelings again and briefly had a moment of clarity to ask Cas to stay apparently in his room on his bed so look at how that has all carried on since season 10 and remember that I’m just analysing, not predicting, but also I have fandom deja vu about Cas’s feelings re: being so obvious they can be seen from space while he pines naked in bed for Dean, and then a big old kick back where everyone was furious he left with Hannah and Destiel is dead and Cas doesn’t love Dean any more >.>)

- and then the Empty says that he knows what Cas FEARS, why Cas keeps leaving, backing off, running away, taking on missions, doing things to protect Sam and Dean from afar because he can’t be with them, has to return Dean’s mixtape and go nobly fall on a sword. Because he’s SCARED about his feelings. Because he can’t be sure Dean WANTS him, only that Sam and Dean need him. He’s been literally given the Winchester Family Invitation on embossed paper with gold leaf, been through a couple of rounds of sacrificing for them - plural, Mary included - and them standing up for him and willing to die to protect him. He should not fear rejection from the family. He shouldn’t fear that his own feelings for them are not returned in full if it is about being a part of the family. At the end of season 11 Dean offered him being the 3rd Winchester brother (sorry Adam) on a plate as well, and Cas still looked unhappy and uncertain.

This all ties into ALL of Cas’s arc for years and years, ever since 7x17, when he re-started his continuous time on the show with a brief Destiel recap and his struggles have all been continuous and with good continuity. His guilt about killing all the angels and damaging Heaven (made worse/freshly relevant with the angel fall spell but was caused by his angst about Godstiel, that he brings up in 8x08), his sense of belonging or not which really starts getting hammered home after he becomes human and loses his wings, so he’s more dependant on a home, and also after he’s been more and more often exiled or treated like shit by Heaven to make it clearer that if he is ever going to have a good sense of home again, the one on Earth is the kinder option, even for all the trouble he goes through for Sam and Dean.

And his feelings for Dean, which are NOT a random subtext thing but seriously power much of his drama. 8x17 starting with him having to kill a thousand Deans. Or how he and Dean are linked by going through Purgatory together and the emotional revelations that came out there - that Dean wouldn’t leave without Cas but Cas didn’t think he deserved it, which ties up all his “general” arcs into the romantic one. That he deserves to be in Purgatory for what he did to Heaven, but that it will hurt Dean to do it. That he’s been self-punishing for Dean’s sake to keep him safe so that he can escape. Cas sacrifices for Dean again and again and in the end walks him to the portal and shoves him through it without attempting to follow because of how he feels; the romantic arc is intrinsic to his actions.

Season 9 builds up Cas trying to restore Heaven and take down Metatron, but Metatron sows discord among Cas’s followers for Cas’s loyalty to Dean. They test it. He loses his followers. Metatron mocks and delights in Cas’s choices and his weakness for Dean. He tells Cas that his weakness WAS Dean in 9x23, without the “love” comment. And that Dean is dead. Cas fights back anyway, even against hope of losing Dean.

In season 10, Cas’s arc is loosely that he’s adrift but will help those who need him - Hannah, Claire and of course Dean. Or Sam finding Dean. He pines and hangs on and gets compared to post-break up Crowley and in the main story his role is simply to be devoted to Dean, to want to save him, to be part of the family that would sacrifice and die for Dean. And an important link in the loose prophecy Cain gives Dean about his nearest and dearest of Crowley, Cas and Sam - each one a magnitude worse than the previous to hurt. 10x22 has Cas make that speech about how he’d be there with Dean at his side in horror as Dean murdered the world but he couldn’t kill him, he can only ask him to stop. Dean attacks and rejects him and for his troubles Cas gets turned into a mindless attack dog, a symbol of how he had been feeling all along, just doing these things for the Winchesters without being certain of his place in the family or his feelings being returned. In season 11 these last 2 points are the first of the PTSD flashbacks he gets about his recent treatment as he falls into deep depression and worthlessness, and the fact of his place in the family is a part of it - not that it can be cured by Dean finally telling him what he wants to hear, and for him to be all better as soon as he knows he’s loved. But it’s one of the factors causing it, and one of the reasons Cas got sucked along with the season 10 bad decisions and one of the reasons Cas has been isolating himself, and now begins the pattern of sacrificing himself too, in 11x10 where he says yes to Lucifer after being assured by everyone he meets that day that he’s just a useless tool. Except Dean, of course, but misunderstandings abound so there’s our read of Dean’s intention and our read of how Cas might have taken their parting. In any case, Cas manages to sacrifice twice in a row for the same possession in 11x14 too, now specifically for Dean. From there, the possession arc becomes laughably about Destiel in 11x18 and 11x21, and Dean’s focus on it in the in between episodes.

And in season 12, of course, now we get the repeated theme of Cas leaving because he doesn’t feel he belongs, and his sense of not belonging and duty power together his search for Lucifer, which turns into the search for Kelly which turns into what happens with Jack in 12x19, but all that of course is because he’s been the one feeling responsible for the Lucifer arc, and whichever point you pick to start that from it goes back to 11x10 and his decision there, made for the same reasons he does everything in season 12, but with more loops of talking about family and where he belongs and Dean trying to reach across the gap but not finding the right words. The fact that after 12x12 Cas still feels he has to be the Winchesters’ guardian shows that they have not been able to reach the part of him which will be able to comfortably call them home no matter how much they feel he belongs there.

For years and years and years this has been what Cas fears. When the Empty tells him he’s surrounded by all the thousands of dead angels, Cas looks around in utter horror, knowing that he’s responsible for them. Check one on his fears, openly expressed. The Empty mocks his attempt to say that Sam and Dean need him, as a bad reason to return, a hollow reason, and Cas’s fear is that they ONLY need him for what he can do, that they’d find a way to wake him up and get him back JUST because they NEEDED him for something. That he would claw his way back to life just to be used for some reason or another that is troubling them and that they can’t solve without calling in Cas to fix it and protect them. And then. His hates, loves and fears. Cas’s love for Dean in the most terrifying thing he has. He’s destroyed so much because of it. Rebelled because of it. Lost his faith because of it. Been dragged through things far worse than Hell and back because of it. And Dean won’t clarify his feelings for Cas, won’t speak in plain English and explain what he means, what Cas means.

And in 13x03 he clarifies to Sam that Cas in particular is why he is in so much turmoil, and Cas wakes up. And faces the Empty mocking his feelings and pointing out his fears. That there is “nothing for you back there” despite all the gestures of home and family that have ever been offered to him. (And this sounds so much like the line in The Two Towers where Elrond is telling Arwen there’s nothing for her here, trying to convince her to LEAVE Middle Earth rather than be with Aragorn and die as a mortal.)

But Cas takes this and all the reminders of his failures and the horrific things that have happened to him, and he stands up and confronts the Empty, which is essentially the bad voice in his head, the depression, and all his fears and doubts, and tells it to stuff it and send him back. He realises whatever happened to him, the reason he’s awake has already given him the chance to reject the Empty trying to make him give up and go to sleep, and that he has been given another chance to fight. Not to reject everything the Empty says and have hope, but to fight and fight and fight. And be given another chance.

And that the confrontation involved a reminder that Cas has this secret love, that it covered all the reasons Cas has been brought down to this lowest point, is mirrored in the much *less* Destiel scene in 13x05 where Billie and Dean talk and Dean only mentions in passing that he couldn’t save Cas as part of the reason he’s given up, although of course the weight of everything else around it that built it all up and explained why (and his clarification that woke Cas up in 13x03) obviously makes it mean more than it might sound on the surface. But Cas’s confrontation with the Empty contains *all* of that that I just rambled about because it’s a Castiel, this is your life, moment, and the power of it is picking all the right words to express *everything* Cas has been through and why, and that includes his entire romance with Dean, and, sadly, what it has done to him to pine and feel unrequited all this time. In 10x01 when he’s lying in bed missing Dean, we have an emotionally similar scene but to much less dramatic effect, much less clarity, and distilling down the reasons. It’s mired in a lot of random context, and it is only really symbolically what this scene was pretty much directly.

In the end of 13x05 Cas calls Dean and it’s silent but we know what it means to Dean. We have silence on Cas’s side of things - obviously the ball is in Dean’s court there on the emotional POV - but when we get Cas back, in 13x06, he is in *no way* “k, bye”

I think the scenes have been fairly balanced in POV, with Cas explaining what happened to him from his perspective when he gets back when talking about the Empty and his line about annoying the Empty is nonsense to out of context ears but means a lot to us and Cas. The hugs being used to contrast Sam and Dean’s reactions, with Sam not knowing what to do but Dean saying “i do” and swooping in on Cas.

Remember, we have been inside Cas’s head, we’ve seen all his little feelings. We know what has brought him back, and why, and to what dramatic narrative purpose this serves - Dean’s grief about Cas being a 5 episode arc which ended up going right into a lowest point of Dean’s much longer personal arcs about loving Cas and how he feels about the job and family, and Cas’s much much longer ongoing personal arc, currently now starting a new chapter after reaching the lowest point in a story about once again passing through an afterlife to rebirth. But he accepted he would still have these issues, that he was only coming back to fight, that he wasn’t coming back because “Sam and Dean need me”…

And for most of this reintroduction scene he doesn’t know that they didn’t do something to bring him back. Sam and Dean are stunned and Cas talks matter of fact about how they got back. Cas doesn’t know they’re reacting in complete and utter mystification. He doesn’t know how long he was gone, just that Dean thinks it’s too long. He has this conversation about where he was and what the Empty is like while clearly baffled about their intent and why Sam is asking these questions, until he says “I thought you had done something” and looks at Dean with realisation that they had genuinely thought he was dead and gone and not coming back and they had no clue - this is the first time he can look at them without wondering what they did, if there’s a price on their heads for doing it to him, etc. He no longer has to be concerned about them.

But it’s not just that. It’s that now he knows “Sam and Dean need me” is NOT the reason he was brought back. He called them up probably expecting to be thrown into their next big drama, something they’re overwhelmed with that only Cas can help them with, that he wasn’t just calling them because he’s getting back in touch with his family but that he’s going back into the battle. For them. To protect them or do something for them that they can’t do.

And instead he learns that Jack did it to him, and Sam and Dean aren’t responsible, and all they did was come to collect him and take him *home*. And the big drama he gets thrown into? Jack has found them a case in Dodge City and Dean is *delighted* to go play cowboys with Cas. Cas, freshly back from the dead, suddenly has Jack - a whole new set of issues, maybe, but at least the two of them on a personal level have a positive emotional connection that they both care about each other, though the levels of Jack needing a new guardian angel strike me as bad in the bigger picture, it’s good for Cas to have more people who care about him, and for Dean to proudly label their new family and for this sense of belonging to be automatically placed on them.

I mean Cas’s head is probably spinning, given the issues he confronted, and then going back AGAINST ALL HOPE. That there was nothing for him back on Earth, just this struggle where he was going to go back to the Winchesters for whatever they needed him for, because he loves them, because he loves Dean, but deep down he has fears and secrets that have been messing with how he interacts with them. Have been screwing up everything for him, over and over.

And then he gets dragged on a case where Dean’s a great fluffy ball of sunshine even when he’s an angry sleeper, somehow, and all he asks of Cas is to make some coffee, and wait for him to be alert enough to hang out with him, at which point he continues being utterly gleeful and playful, and Cas is beginning to relax, to wear the cowboy hat, to quote the movie at Dean, to feel comfortable at his side, playing along being a cowboy, saying all the ridiculous lines like howdy partner etc as they walk onto the crime scene. Cas has FUN with Dean. FUN. CASTIEL, ANGEL OF THE LORD, HAD FUN. He was acting PLAYFUL.

And even when he’s being asked what his fake agent name is, he panics because this is all seeming a bit dangerous to keep playing around, he looks to Dean, Dean nods like it will all be fine and Cas says he’s Val Kilmer, and it works. Being playful never hurt anyone. Dean is DELIGHTED. Cas passes the test. This is all GREAT. Look at how few enormous burdens are on them! Sure things suck out in the wider scheme of the world, but nothing is currently actively trying to destroy it…

This episode didn’t really have a directed POV on all the Destiel stuff because it was just the two of them existing in the same space. Most of the specific pointless (I say, to the main plot anyway) character beats were stuff between Cas and Dean. The hats. The coffee. The music. Even Jack asking Cas about how much Dean likes cowboys. Things that don’t really advance the story but we get silly things like Dean throwing Cas the gnawed hipbone or whatever. No one else is interacting like Dean and Cas interact. Sam and Jack have some interesting stuff going on, but they aren’t commanding a room when they’re in it.

Like… I don’t *just* ship Destiel because they have interaction I like. I ship it because when they’re in a room, the writing itself supports that the two of them become the most important thing in it to each other. Dean lurks in the background of the Cas and Jack hug, while Sam disappears. Dean stands by Cas in the confrontation with Jack at the end of the episode - they’re on the same side. They’re together. There’s a *link* between them.

I really feel like people seeing Cas as dismissive and strange this episode instead of immediately picking up on Dean’s Cowboy Thing as a callback to 6x18 (whether he can hear the music or not, but personal interpretation, yes), and the query by Jack, the car conversation about them watching Tombstone together, is more reminders, more links between Cas *specifically* and Dean’s interest in cowboys. Cas’s face and his teasing is the same mood as “is it customary to wear a blanket” or telling Dean he looks like a lumberjack. Cas does not tease people very often. And it’s pretty much been Crowley a couple of times dismissively and Dean 3 times lovingly. And about his clothes. And 2/3rds of the time about cowboys. It’s a Thing.

I am just full of stunned love this episode for the way Dean and Cas act around each other, the comfort, the teasing, the absolute knowledge of each other. The things they share off screen and on screen. Cas always expresses less than Dean does, but this episode Cas willingly impersonated a cowboy for an entire 10 seconds while in Dean’s presence, quoted a movie at him, and sucked it up and used his ridiculous alias Dean told him to, while wearing the hat Dean made him wear. Cas loves Dean like the sun comes up in the morning. Maybe someone will be upset Dean messes with Cas and makes him do all this stuff, but this is Castiel Fucking Winchester who scowled down the Empty. I think he could stand up for himself about a straw hat :P

Anyway… tl;dr if that was my post you were thinking about, PLEASE do not interpret it as saying one of them always has to be pining. Sometimes they are just in love. Sometimes there doesn’t seem to be a narrative reason for it, and we just kinda enjoy the nonsense while another story - Jack’s story - is building up elsewhere. Dean and Cas’s interaction is a character-based subplot on its own, and it’s delightful right now. They can have issues again later, but between Sam saying “Jack” in the opening and the horrible end to the shoot out, Dean n Cas weren’t really doing anything other than enjoying each other’s company. And all the stuff that might have made it bad got swept away with the reveal Jack resurrected Cas, not Dean. Cas is temporarily (permanently hopefully) off the hook for being the angel that watches over them.

I mean it’s so not over, we’re 6 episodes in and all their pre-existing angst is just waiting to kick off again and never entirely *gone*, but this episode was weirdly peaceful for Dean and Cas. And they needed it. And I just do not understand at ALL people reading Cas as being dismissive and distant when he played cowboys with Dean.

#Asks #angels are watching over you #13x06 #destiel #caaas #long post for ts #my stuff

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philcoulsonismyhero · 7 years ago

Text

So here’s the thing. I graduated a couple of months ago. I now officially have a BSc in theoretical physics. But it’s an ordinary degree. It’s not an honours degree, and it’s definitely not the MPhys degree that I should have gotten. And that’s because I failed. I failed a lot of exams, and didn’t sit other ones because there was no point in putting myself through the stress when I knew for a fact that I was going to fail again. And that wasn’t being defeatist, that was being realistic. So after four years at university, I got an ordinary degree.

After four years of university, I had planned to have a masters degree.

But I failed. I fucked up. Because of a whole raft of circumstances relating to only getting my autism diagnosis after royally fucking up my second year of uni and then being fucked over by the uni’s disability service and just generally having no idea how to study because I never needed to before. I aced school. I did extra exams every year that they would let me, and I got straight As. And I barely had to study at all. Then uni comes along with its ‘self-guided learning’ and lack of the structure that had let me thrive at school, and I crashed and burned. I went straight into second year because of my straight As in my final year exams, fucked up third year, was thrown into fourth year anyway. A retroactive interruption of study after the first semester of fourth year went as terribly as you’d expect did no good, because then I had even less structure. Repeating fourth year (now actually in my fourth year at uni) was a non-starter. I ended up not doing half my exams because there was no point. I only got a degree out of the whole mess based on accumulated credits from 2nd and 3rd year.

I didn’t try my best, I didn’t work hard and fail anyway, I just failed. And I’m slowly trying to convince myself that that’s okay. It happens. Sometimes something you thought you’d be great at turns out to not be for you, and that’s okay. Sometimes the standard path through life isn’t for you because you have a disability and that means you’re not a standard person. A type of learning might not suit you, and that’s okay too.

And I’m getting there. I’ll eventually maybe be okay about the whole thing. It’ll help once I actually have an idea of where to go from here, because right now I’m directionless and it’s big and scary and difficult to process. And I’ve got people in my corner who’ll support me regardless of what comes next.

But then every time I’m starting to think that being okay is an achievable goal, I remember that my dad exists and he’s being utterly fucking useless and is in fact actively causing me more stress than any other thing in my life right now, and suddenly I’m Really Not Remotely Okay.

I’ve seen him four, maybe five times in the last year? The most recent time was a couple of months ago in May, around when I’d made the decision that I wasn’t sitting my last batch of exams because there was no point. But it was for only a few hours over lunch and his fucking girlfriend was there so the sum total of things I was able to say to him as my parent was two sentences about that decision before the subject was changed. Because he might as well be a stranger when Lynn is around. She’s definitely a bloody stranger, that’s for certain. I have tried to find something likeable about her, something we could talk about, anything to move her from the category of ‘adult stranger’ to ‘significant other of person I care about’, but nope. There’s nothing. And when she’s around, my dad isn’t my dad. He’s her boyfriend. It’s jarring and unpleasant and there is a reason that I’ve gotten so angry and uncomfortable that I’ve had to just straight up leave when I was supposed to be spending time with them.

And what has my dad done about the fact that I did something so enormously out of character not once, but twice? Absolutely fucking nothing. He’s not even mentioned it, not once.

And do you know what else he hasn’t bothered to do? Ask anything at all about what my uni situation is. All he knows is that I didn’t sit that last set of exams. Did he bother to ask about what that meant for my degree, or whether I’d be graduating at all, or even think that maybe I might be graduating and there would be a possibility I’d want him to be there? No. No, he didn’t. For the record, I got my degree in the post. There was no way I was celebrating something that as far as I’m concerned is a failure, not an achievement. But does dad know that? No. He didn’t even bother to find out. No thought whatsoever for the slim possibility that I might want one of my parents at my graduation, no thought that I might feel bad about not achieving what I set out to and it might be nice to have some parental reassurance.

I have gotten absolutely no communication from him since that one day in May when he and Lynn had lunch with me and my sisters. A lunch I very nearly didn’t go to because there was a very distinct possibility that I’d end up storming off for a third time.

And then yesterday morning I got a text. A text that was quite clearly sent to all three of us (my sisters and I), asking when we were going to be free over the August bank holiday weekend, and that was it.

I don’t think I want to see him? I don’t think I can deal with hanging out for a few hours and letting him pretend he’s being a parent, all the while completely avoiding any topic that might require him to have a conversation that’s even slightly emotionally engaged. I’d like to have a proper conversation with my father, maybe even yell at him a bit because he quite frankly deserves it, and if that’s not going to happen then I don’t want to see him.

I want my dad back. I want to go back to the couple of years where I genuinely would have found it hard to choose between my parents if it had come to that. Because the man that shows up once every few months to play act being a parent quite frankly isn’t worth my time.

But I don’t know what to do about it? And that’s the worst thing. I have no idea how to confront him, no idea how to communicate any of this, no idea if I’m even capable of yelling at him because I spent so long playing mediator and being the quiet and reasonable one that I’m straight up physically incapable of raising my voice. I was Mum’s shoulder to cry on, the person Dad could complain about Mum to, the eldest sibling who acted as a buffer and reassurance to my sisters, and somewhere along the way I either lost or just never developed the ability to shout at people. Along with ‘learning’ that shouting never solves anything, that getting angry is counter-productive, that dumping your emotions on someone else is selfish and might hurt them more than it helps you...

I was fifteen when my parents actually divorced. Meaning that the years and years of build-up to that, the years and years when I was the mediator stuck in the middle? I was even younger. I was a child. There’s nothing fair about that. And it’s almost definitely why I didn’t even realise I had problems of my own until I was at university, because before then I’d been to busy dealing with everyone else’s shit to pay attention to myself.

And another consequence of that is that dad has never actually lived with me while I’ve been having problems. He’s just showed up every few weeks (later months) and spent a few hours with me, during which time I was more concerned with spending time with the parent that I missed horribly than talking about any issues I was having. So he’s just. Oblivious. He hasn’t bothered to try and understand the true nature of my circumstances, the actual consequences of my having a disability, the fact that I genuinely have trouble with things that he’s just been assuming I’ll be capable of doing. It’s not nearly as simple as ‘you’ve finished uni, now go get a job’. But he hasn’t bothered to understand and I don’t know how to make him understand and it’s all just building up and stressing me out and it’s Not Fair. It’s not fair and I deserve better from him and it makes me want to fucking throw things because I can’t even scream about it because I Can’t Be Loud and my throat will physically close up on me if I try.

And I hadn’t realised how fucked up that was until I saw a post about that being something that’s a thing for abuse victims. In my case it’s from years and years of being the Sensible And Level-Headed Mediator but I just. It brought me up short, that post.

I don’t process negative emotions very well. Oftentimes I can’t tell what they are other than ‘not good’. But right now I’m tired and I’m sad and I’m angry and they’re all feeding into each other and it’s got to the point where I have to work really hard to not start crying whenever dad comes up in conversation or something reminds me of him.

And I just. Needed to try and get all of this down and release it into the void because never talking about things that upset me is one of my worst bad habits, and it’s going to take a lot of chipping away and working at it to break it. And I need to break it, because it’s not doing me any good at all.

#(i'd appreciate if you didn't reblog this)#personal stuff #please don't feel that you have to read this #it's 1700 words of yelling into the void about why i'm so stressed right now #i just. needed to get it out

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meetmeatthecoda · 7 years ago

Note

#30 liz would be the obvious choice but I could see red doing this as well.

#30: “I was scared and I ran.” Well, anon, I went with the obvious choice. :) And I’m sorry this took so long, I had a hard time getting started, and I wanted this to be perfect and angsty and whatnot and it definitely is not perfect and I do think it’s angsty so I really hope you enjoy. :) Thank you for the prompt!

Liz knocks on theheavy oak door of Red’s latest safe house for the third time.

Nothing. Again.

She sighs, running ahand through her hair. She needs to talk to Red. And not about blacklisters orpretense or Tom but about them. As they are. Or as they used to be. Since shecame back from Cuba, things between her and Red have been… bad. Tense.Strained. Everyone has commented on it by this point and, while that wouldn’tnormally bother Liz, she has such an uneasy feeling inside whenever he won’tlook at her. Because he won’t. Not anymore. She knows it’s because they haven’tdiscussed her disastrous faked death and would-be vacation in Cuba. But Rednever stays in her presence long enough for her to say anything other than“Hello” and “Who’s our next blacklister?”. And perhapsthat’s by design but it simply can’t continue. Liz can’t take it. So she is determinedto make things right. And she’ll stand here all night if she has to.

She knocks for afourth time.

All of a sudden, shehears the dead bolt wrench back and the locks turn and the door opens to reveala carefully emotionless Red.

That’s odd. Shedidn’t hear any footsteps before the door opened. It’s almost as if he wasstanding behind the door waiting for her to leave.

Oh.

Yes, they need totalk.

Red is still standingin the doorway, staring blankly at her, apparently refusing to break thesilence. All right then.

“Hi,” Lizstarts, with a confidence she does not feel while Red is looking at her likethat. “May I come in? I think we need to talk.”

“About what? Itold you everything I know about number 102 at the Post Office today.” Hesays frostily.

“No, I know,it’s not about number 102.” She says. Why is her mouth so dry? “Ithink we should talk about us, Red. We have some serious issues that we haven’taddressed since… since I came back and people are starting to notice. I thinkwe should at least try to work things out.”

His expressionhardens. Wow, she didn’t think that was possible.

“Oh, so now you’re open to communication.”

“What’s thatsupposed to mean?” She’s trying desperately not to get defensive butthere’s something about this attitude of his that makes her want to raise herhackles and snarl.

“I think youknow what that means.” He says, coldly. “And now’s not a goodtime.”

And to her completesurprise and indignation, he begins to shut the door.

“What?Wait!”

Out of desperation, andbecause she can’t watch his face disappear behind that door, she just can’t,she quickly puts her foot out. The door collides painfully with her ankle butshe ignores it, determined to make him listen.

“Look, I knowyou’re upset with me but–”

“Oh, do you?Amazing!” He says, scathingly, starting to get angry now instead of justplain cold. Well, at least that’s some sort of emotion. She’ll take it.

“Hey! I can’tmake this right if you won’t talk to me!”

“Oh, so youthink you can still make this right. How charming.”

She blinks. What? Ishe serious? Every time she hurt him before, she would apologize or hint atremorse or sometimes just smile at him and he would just move on as if nothinghad happened. So why is this different? Sure, telling him he is a monster isn’tquite the same as faking her death but hurt is hurt, isn’t it? So why is heacting this way?

But finally he sighs,rolls his eyes, and let’s go of the door to cross his arms, looking for all theworld like a petulant little boy who doesn’t want to clean his room.

She hates this.

“But I supposeyou have a point.” he says begrudgingly. “We don’t want to make yourco-workers uncomfortable.”

Her co-workers? Sincewhen has Red cared about anybody at the Post Office besides her? What did shemiss while she was in Cuba?

“So, fine. Inthe interest of easing tensions, I’ll listen.”

And then he just standsthere and stares at her expectantly. She wonders vaguely if her mouth ishanging open. Has he always had these whiplash-inducing mood swings? No, surelynot. She would have noticed. But here he is, waiting for her to say something.

“Well?” hedemands.

“You want me tostart talking? Here?”

“Well, isn’tthat what you wanted?”

“I’m not goingto have this conversation on your doorstep!”

“Well perhaps Idon’t want to invite you in!”

“Well perhapsyou don’t but I’m not doing this with a door in between us. Either you come outhere or I’m going in there.”

They stare each otherdown for a tense minute, eyes assessing each other, blue piercing green andgreen glaring at blue.

Finally, withoutbreaking eye contact, Red moves slowly to the side, giving Liz just enough roomto squeeze past him and into the house.

But somehow, the movedoesn’t feel like acquiescence to Liz. It feels more like a warning. Thesewalls around Red are brand new and miles high. How is she supposed to scalethem?

Liz stops in theentrance hall, unsure where to go from there, not wanting to anger Red any morethan she already has. She wants this conversation to be as civil as possible.

“Turn right. Wecan talk in the kitchen.”

The kitchen. Wellthen. Civil might be a bit of a stretch.

Liz sighs.

She enters the clean,utilitarian kitchen, running a hand over the marble countertops before turningto lean against the counter and face Red.

Well. She might aswell be talking to the marble countertops. They certainly look more invitingthan Red does right now.

Liz takes a deepbreath. She had an idea of what she was going to say, didn’t she? She had aplan in the car on the way over here, didn’t she? So where did all her wordsgo? Her mind is blank, so she decides to just take the plunge.

“Okay, look, Iknow things weren’t easy for you when I was gone–”

Red’s eyes widen.

“Oh, you do? Youknow that? How, Lizzie? How could you know how it was for me when you were‘gone’, as you so eloquently put it? How could you know, since you were nodoubt sunbathing in Cuba waiting for your beloved Tom, reveling in a lifewithout me in it? How could you know? Howcould you?”

Now why did that lastquestion sound so different from all the others? They were the same words,after all. But there was so much more bitterness and betrayal in those wordsthan all the others. Why was that?

Liz stares at Red,trying desperately to read him as she was once able to, once again stunned bythe strength and depth of his animosity towards her.

She had known thatRed had hovered over her 'dead’ body in the back of the ambulance, so long thatMr. Kaplan and Dembe had had to plead with him to leave. Ressler had told herthat. She had known that he disappeared shortly after her 'death’, without aword to the team or Dembe. Samar had told her that. She had known that Redwasn’t going to come back to continue work on the blacklist after her ‘death’, Aramhad had to convince him. Aram had told her that.

They all had told herthese things in the briefest, most non-specific terms, looking at their shoes,quickly making excuses and hurrying off. She had been confused by theirbehavior at the time but she had been preoccupied with trying to find Agnes,thinking she would deal with it later. Perhaps the reason they hadn’t wanted toelaborate on Red’s actions after her death was because, could it be because–

“Red, I wasn’tenjoying my time away, all right? It wasn’t like that and–”

“Oh, really?Well, you could have fooled me, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth. Elizabeth?When was the last time Red had called her Lizzie, anyway? It had been a while,hadn’t it? Not since before she left, wasn’t it? Did that mean, no itcouldn’t–

“Red, I wastrying to protect Agnes, that’s all, I didn’t think–”

Oh. Well, that wasthe wrong thing to say, wasn’t it? She watches as Red’s normally warm, greeneyes turn hard as flint, his mouth pinching and his jaw clenching.

Oh.

“See, that’s theproblem, Elizabeth, you didn’t think!”He’s yelling now, he’s never yelled at her before, why– “Or rather, youdid, and it was only about yourself! You thought how nice it would be to getaway from me, the monster, and go away with your beloved fake husband, notgiving one thought to how that would affect me! Well, guess what, it did affectme! Your death? Yes, it affected me, Elizabeth!”

“Red–”

“No!” heroars, slamming his hand on the counter, making the dishes rattle in thecabinet behind her head. She suddenly realizes she is literally backed into acorner in the kitchen of his safe house and there is no one else here.

She has never beenscared of Red before. She is now.

“No, you don’tget to talk!” he bellows, his voice strangely unsteady. And are his eyeswet? “Not now because what could you possibly say? Because your death? It ruinedme! It sucked me into a void and I almost didn’t make it out the other side!Your death? It almost killed me!”

The awful silencefollowing his words seems to push on her ears, making them ache. She aches allover. Oh, what has she done? She didn’t know it was like this, how could sheknow? What has she done to Red–

And to her horror,she sees a single tear fall from his shining eyes and down his cheek.

Oh. Oh, she’s hurthim. Oh, she’s hurt Red so badly. And she had no idea.

Oh, Red.

He swipes at the lonetear and turns away from her. Suddenly she is terrified that he’ll leave theroom, leave her, and her previously frozen limbs unlock, lurching forwardtowards him.

“Red…” shewhispers, reaching out and tentatively touching his arm.

He jerks away fromher touch.

Oh. Oh, no.

“Red,please.”

She hears him take adeep, shaky breath. Still facing away from her, he turns his headever-so-slightly to the side, seemingly indicating that he’s listening.

Or maybe not. Itcould be either. But she decides to assume he’s listening. Because he has to.How else can she fix this?

“Red…”

Oh, what can she say?Red’s right. What could she possibly say to make this better? She’s hurt him sodeeply and she only just realized and he knows that and somehow that makes itworse and what can she say?

Oh. Stupid Liz.

Because suddenly it’sso simple. What do you say when you’ve hurt someone? Just two words. Two simplewords and why didn’t she think of this before, stupid, stupid Liz?

“Red,” shewhispers, meaning her next words more than she’s ever meant anything,“Red, I’m sorry.”

Yes. That was what heneeded.

She actually sees thetension leave his shoulders and his head falls forward and he lets out ashuttering sigh and she sees more tears fall and they can’t have that, no, soshe’s rushing around to face him and she’s putting her arms around him and hishead falls to her shoulder and his arms wrap around her waist and he’s cryingbut everything feels better and–

Yes. This was whatthey needed.

“Red,” shemurmurs, the words coming so easily now. “Red, I’m so sorry. I didn’t meanto hurt you. I was just trying to save my baby. The cabal was beating down thedoor and Kate offered me a way out and I didn’t have time to think, Red. I… Iwas scared and I ran. And I’m so sorry for what I did to you.”

And his tears aredrying on her shirt and he turns his head to breath her in and she closes hereyes and–

Yes. This is them.

And she thinks maybeshe’ll stay a while tonight.

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