#but i think it's funnier this way because like

[dextivestudios]

No, no, people don't get it.

Doctor Who (1963) was EXTREMELY feminist for its time, and it apparently had an actual card-carrying communist working on it in the 70s.

Barbara White is amazing and I love her. She was the one with the braincell, and freaking ATE. Meanwhile, Ian was a parody of the "breadwinner manly man don't worry, ladies, I got this!" type. (Spoiler alert: it was the lady who had things handled.)

Like, if Ian was created today, he definitely WOULD follow Andrew Tate and unironically call himself an alpha, only for that to...not be the case. At all.

Alt-right "Whovians" literally look at characters like Ian and the joke just flies over their heads completely.

We are meant to admire Barbara, and we are meant to laugh at Ian.

I should also mention it tended to get very preachy about anti-colonialism.

Classic Doctor Who was far from perfect. Disabled and queer people virtually don't exist, and it's very much a racist show with there being more yellowface than actual Asian actors. (And it takes an embarrassingly long time for them to finally cast a black actor. I noticed a darker complexion for the first time during the FIFTH DOCTOR's run. Which is....YIKES!) And the amount of cultural appropriation/orientalism would be shocking to modern audiences.

I do think more people should watch more Classic Who. It's not as good as nostalgic Classic Who fans claim, and there are episodes far worse than even the Timeless Child incident in the modern show but watching Classic Who does expose you to amazing stories, and it does improve your viewing experience for the modern show. Like, so many jokes and references go over your head if you don't watch the Classic show.

It wasn't even perfect with the feminist aspect and there are plenty of counterpoints where companions, and the writing in general, fell victim to sexism.

And, yes, the bad/offensive episodes should be watched, too. It's a part of Doctor Who history, and even harmful art has value to it. And the fact that it sucked in other aspects does not devalue for many things such as feminism.

My only recommendation is to watch Victoria Waterfield's run in its entirely. You will want to skip her. But trust me on this one. Don't skip an episode. The more you see of her, the funnier her departure will be.

And, honestly, I think the original creators would be proud of what Doctor Who has become, especially in the representation aspects. It is queer and not asking for forgiveness. The TARDIS has wheelchair access now, we have two black Doctors with one of them being a main Doctor, two LGBT Doctors BACK-TO-BACK.

Though that's strictly talking about the characters. I know that Ncuti himself is gay, Jodie has a husband and I don't think she made any public announcements about any labels she may identify with? That's to her discretion and I don't really care that much. All I can say for certain is that she is married to a man, and appears to not mind depicting sapphic women. I won't speculate because that is an asshole thing to do, and this tangent has gone on for long enough already.

All in all, Doctor Who has always been woke. It has a flawed past, and its focuses have shifted overtime. Heck, remember when it was big on anti-guns all the way back at Tenth Doctor?

But, yeah, the problem is that it has a focus on groups that the Nazis are currently actively targeting. Which would be both queer and disabled people, it also doesn't help the cast is heavy on POC at the moment (note: not a bad thing.) and the women characters are currently being respected. But it's primarily the queer characters and disabled characters.

Nazis are not real Whovians, and I'm glad that Doctor Who is making an effort to make them as uncomfortable and unwelcome as possible. Because tolerating Nazis and taking them seriously, like giving our time and energy to them is worth anything, is exactly how they are gaining power in the USA.

Remember: the only nazi who deserves peaceful interactions are dead nazis. And even then, feed their bodies to the dogs, as not even death is redemption for them.

[geeeemmmmmmm]

Picture Perfect

a/n:I've missed writing sm! I have another one shot in the making btw. I loved the head cannon I posted a while ago that I had to expand on it! I'm a little rusty so bare with me but as always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy!

Bucky had always taken sly photos of you. He liked having snapshots in time with you. The truth was, after Hydra, his memory could be quite dodgy, and it pained him to think of forgetting you — a preposterous thought, he knew, but still his biggest fear. Forgetting the way you clung to him during a dream, or the way you'd proudly pose in front of a new dish you made was something that made him shudder in fear.

After figuring out how to navigate the camera on his phone (with a little help from Steve, of course), he began subtly taking photos of you.

You only discovered the collection by accident. Your phone had died, and you'd borrowed his — only to find it still open on the photo app. You smiled softly to yourself as you scrolled through them. They varied from pictures of you curled up against him in the middle of the night with your head tucked into the crook of his neck like you always did, to small photos at team gatherings, laughing at a joke (most likely it was because of something you said because, really who’s funnier than you?).

The photo that surprised you most was one taken of you standing in the doorway of your bedroom — hair messy from sleep, a tired smile on your face, holding Alpine in your arms. Not your most attractive look, yet Bucky saw a gleaming beauty in you. You remembered that morning well although just not Bucky taking a photo of it.

What made you a little sad was realizing how few of the photos included him. He’s the reason for your comfort, your smiles yet he starred in very few. From that moment on, you decided to change that. You made it your mission to include him in photos with you.

You didn’t care how dramatically Sam would groan whenever you asked him to take another photo of you and Bucky. Bucky would always pout slightly when you dragged him into frame as you muttered the same phrase to him every time: "C'mon Buckkkk, it’s a perfect opportunity." you’d whine slightly. He always obliged. He secretly loved it, though he’d never ask to take more photos with you. Afraid he’d seem annoying, like you were some kind of celebrity and he was a mere fan when in reality you had been dating for a couple years.

Your favorite photo to date was one you hadn’t even asked for. It was a beautiful candid of the two of you walking side by side, your body tucked into his, both your heads turned to each other, lit up with bright smiles. Your endless efforts training Sam to take perfect Instagram shots had finally paid off.

When you got home from that walk, you immediately set that photo as your lock screen. “Hey doll, how do you change the lock screen thing?” Bucky’s voice drifted in from behind you as you admired the photo on the couch. “C’mere, I’ll show you,” you hummed, patting the space next to you on the couch. It took only a minute of explanation before Bucky got the hang of it. As he selected the same photo as his lock screen, your eyes flicked to his phone — now he knew you had officially seen his great pride and joy.

“I don’t know how I’ve never noticed you taking these,” you murmured against his side.

“Just wanted to savor your smile, in case I ever forget” he whispered, nuzzling into your hair.

“I won’t let you forget me, Buck,” you replied softly, rubbing slow circles on his chest with your free hand.

“I know. But I get so scared something will happen and I’ll lose you — even if all I had left were photos. I want to always have your smile, the way you hide away in my neck when you sleep” his tone staying quiet as he confessed “even if you slightly drool,” he added, lips curling into that soft smile you loved so much.

“First of all: I love you so, so much, and I’m never leaving you. Second of all: I do not drool!” you laughed, playfully hitting his chest from his added comment. “Say what you wanna say, but you know I’m right,” he teased. “At least I don’t snore,” you laughed, even more when you felt the soft rumble of his chuckle against you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he smirked , burying his nose back into your hair as he gently pulled you onto his lap. You didn’t need to say anything else — you just wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, occupying your hands as you gazed into his lovestruck eyes.

His ocean-blue eyes fluttered closed, head dropping to your shoulder, arms lazily pulling your waist back like you weren’t already close enough. You sat there for a while, basking in the soft silence — only slightly disturbed by his soft snoring

Eventually, you stretched your arm out carefully, inching your fingers to reach for your phone on the couch. You managed to snap a couple of photos, your little “payback” for all the ones he had taken of you. You cringed when your phone shutter clicked and Bucky stirred.

“I’m a perfect picture, huh?” Bucky’s voice was soft against your skin, his stubble tickling the soft skin of your neck. “Don’t flatter yourself, Barnes,” you teased.

You took a quiet moment to admire the photo after your teasing died down. It had immediately become a strong contender for your lock screen. You were sitting on Bucky’s lap, legs tucked to the side comfortably, one hand in his hair, the other holding your phone. His head rested perfectly on your shoulder, arms draped lazily around your waist. With your smile lighting up the photo as you kissed his temple. A light only Bucky could bring out in you, and you knew he would never dim it.

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 38.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: ugh this fuckin headache is relentless. i've eaten, i've had water, i've had caffeine, what else could it be other than my manbones trying to escape this meat prison rip. Not only that, but life keeps hitting snags. Why does god have to give his toughest battles to his silliest of gooses. Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. / rehab masterlist 2. chapter 34 / chapter 35 / chapter 36 / chapter 37

"How are you feeling now?"

The room felt crowded; the walls starting to close in on her as she sat on the bed in front of her. Her legs were crossed, posture relaxed despite the professional gait she seemed to consistently carry; notebook in her lap. Her eyes were ever-observing, taking in every little thing about her.

Though, (Y/n) was doing the exact same. She was aware of what Raynor was trying to do: making herself look comfortable and laidback to make (Y/n) put her guard down, but (Y/n) wasn't one to fall for tricks so easily.

(Y/n) was sitting back in the chair at Steve's temporary desk, her crochet bag protectively behind her. Her eyes were staring down Raynor, taking in every detail and profiling her from her posture down to the way a piece of her hair was framing her face. She was tense; an uncomfortable feeling settling into her as (Y/n) and Raynor stared each other down.

Bucky was standing against the wall, his arms crossed as he quietly gazed between the two of them. On the outside, it seemed as though the two women were trying to size each other up despite that not being the case. Though, to Bucky, it was a bit funnier to think of it like that.

(Y/n) seemed to look uncomfortable, and Bucky wondered if it was because of Raynor's question or from being in her presence at all. His lips curled into a thin line, and he glanced at Raynor. She was paying the man no mind, her focus on (Y/n), and he almost rolled his eyes when Raynor clicked her pen and began to write. (Y/n) watched her with a furrowed brow, and she finally spoke up quietly.

"I feel...confused."

Raynor nodded, asking her further as she tilted her head to the side, pausing her writing as she regarded the woman with an inquisitive look on her face.

"Alright, that's a start. Why do you feel confused?"

(Y/n)'s lips curled into a thin line as her eyebrows furrowed deeply, the woman becoming silent for a pregnant pause before she murmured.

"The memories...and voices....I don't know if they are real or...what HYDRA...programmed...I was born into HYDRA."

Bucky felt his mood drop, a sense of melancholy and sympathy coming over him, and there was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to tell (Y/n) the complete truth. However, the man stayed quiet, feeling equally horrible as he did. Raynor continued to write as she conducted the evaluation, (Y/n) watching as she wrote, and she murmured.

"Rebecca would write with me."

Raynor paused, and Bucky felt his heart jump a little in his chest. Raynor asked, raising her brow slightly.

"Rebecca? Who is Rebecca?"

(Y/n) glanced at Bucky, and Bucky nodded to her subtly. (Y/n) then looked back at Raynor and stated.

"My friend."

Raynor hummed, shaking her head a little bit.

"I'm going to need a bit more than that, (Y/n). In order me to help you, I need you to be as open and honest with me as possible. You don't have to tell me everything immediately, but remembering things is important and needs to be noted."

HYDRA does not tolerance defectiveness.

(Y/n) winced at the thought, and Raynor paused, squinting her eyes for a moment. She observed (Y/n) and the way she was fidgeting; her fingers rubbing and pulling at her other hand, her toes curling and uncurling, the way her eyes were darting to the floor and the wall as if she was looking for another escape route. She was worried; apprehensive and uncomfortable.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me, nobody is going to force you to."

(Y/n) bit her lip before closing her eyes, and she shakily sputtered out.

"M-My friend...Rebecca...she...she was pretty in the sunlight. She was th....Bucky's Rebecca."

Bucky looked at Raynor when Raynor gave him a subtle look of surprise, and he explained.

"Her Aunt Mavis lived in Shelbyville, and when (Y/n) visited there for the summer, she met Rebecca. Rebecca and Mavis were churchgoers."

Raynor hummed, nodding, and she looked at (Y/n) again.

"Interesting, if not coincidental. (Y/n), do you remember your Aunt Mavis?"

(Y/n) shook her head, humming.

"No. I...think I remember her voice...but...I only know her through...through my picture."

Raynor nodded before she asked carefully.

"Would you be open to showing me these pictures?"

"Нет!" (no!)

Raynor and Bucky were both surprised by the hiss, (Y/n)'s fingers clenching as she turned towards the crochet bag and held it close. Raynor hummed softly, writing again, and she uncrossed her legs in order to sit much more comfortably.

"It's okay, (Y/n), nobody is going to take those from you. I just wanted you to tell me about them and what they meant to you."

(Y/n) shook her head, her eyes filled with tears as her lips curled back and bared her teeth.

"I...I don't know what they mean...but they're mine...I know it. I....I know they are."

The fact that she could acknowledge that the memories were hers was good progress, and Bucky began to feel much more hopeful. His shoulders relaxed, and he looked at Raynor for silent permission. Raynor nodded to him once, and Bucky carefully sat down next to (Y/n).

Although she didn't realize it, (Y/n) relaxed a bit, glancing at Bucky, and Bucky comforted her gently and placed his flesh hand against her arm softly.

"It's okay, (Y/n). You don't have to be afraid. If you don't want to talk about them, then you don't have to."

"I...don't want them to be taken again."

She looked sad and frightened, (Y/n)'s pupils constricted, and Bucky shook his head.

"Nobody is going to take them. They'd have to go through me first."

His lips twitched into a small and teasing smile, testing the waters, and (Y/n) asked him softly.

"You would...fight...for me?"

Bucky immediately nodded.

"Without question."

(Y/n) looked stupefied by his words, and Raynor quietly observed while writing as (Y/n) spoke softly.

"Even...even if I don't deserve it?"

Suddenly, Germany came into Bucky's mind, the Avengers all pitted against one another and how many of them had fought for him. Bucky took a deep breath, and he replied.

"It doesn't matter if you don't deserve it or not. You're a person at the end of the day, and what happened...it wasn't your fault. It was HYDRA. You were a victim...just like I was."

His words were short and to-the-point, but they were effective enough to have (Y/n) relaxing her hold on the crochet bag filled with snippets of her life. (Y/n) pulled back slightly, glancing down at the bag for a pregnant pause, and she slowly took out of the tin box. Rubbing her scarred fingers along the lid, (Y/n) murmured softly again.

"I...I don't want them to be taken."

"Nobody is ever going to take them from you again. I promise."

Bucky's voice was firm enough to make (Y/n) look at him, and she believed him. His conviction was easy to see, his blue eyes serious and facial expression contorted into one of determination. Bucky looked as though he was ready to fight at any moment, and it made (Y/n) surprised yet comforted at the fact that it was for her.

He was willing to fight for her. To protect her memories and keep her from HYDRA.

(Y/n) clenched her jaw, unable to look at him anymore, and she turned back around in her seat, holding onto the tin box tightly. She was trembling slightly, almost afraid to show them, and Raynor glanced down at the old, weathered tin.

It was a Huntley and Palmer biscuit tin with a printed picture of the painting of Truth Coming Out of Her Well to Shame Mankind by Jean-Léon Gérôme on the lid. There were gold accents that were tarnished all around the side, a yellowed piece of tape on the side that had (initials) etched on the side in beautiful calligraphy, and there were a few dents in the side.

(Y/n) was clutching the box with apprehension, and when she hesitated, Raynor shook her head slightly.

"You don't have to show me if you don't want to. These memories are extremely important to you, especially since HYDRA would take them away from you often. It's a pretty big deal that you have these, so I understand if you're not ready. You can show me whenever you are, (Y/n). There's no right or wrong answer to this."

(Y/n) looked down at the tin, thinking for a moment. The silence in the room was heavy, blanketing over the trio like weights upon their shoulders, and (Y/n) whispered.

"I...haven't seen all of them...but I know they're mine."

Raynor encouraged gently.

"That's good that you know that. It means that you're really starting to get a grasp on those memories and your identity."

(Y/n) swallowed thickly before she carefully opened the tin. She set aside the two pictures that her and Bucky had seen before, and Bucky leaned over a bit to look at the new one that had been hidden beneath.

It was a black and white photo, (Y/n) looking to be a toddler. She was wearing a cute sundress and sunhat, boots on her feet as she stood in the garden. She was pointing down at a flower that had a butterfly sitting upon the petals, and a look of awe was on her face. Doris was behind her, hands on her arms to steady (Y/n), a wide smile on her face.

(Y/n) frowned as she looked at the picture. There was no memory that was attached to it, no recognition nor any feeling or emotion that overcame her. To (Y/n), it was just another picture, and so she placed it to the side almost carelessly; immediately disinterested.

The next image was another black and white photo, but this time, it was of Doris, (Y/n), and Robert at the beach. (Y/n)'s eyes widened at the sight of Robert's face, and her body tensed up. Horror reflected within her eyes as she looked at the picture, and she stared deep into Robert's eyes.

Although there was a smile on his face, even (Y/n) could see the annoyance and indignation within his cruel eyes. His arm was not around Doris nor (Y/n) within the picture, and (Y/n) found it to be odd. Doris, however, looked happy to be there with (Y/n), holding the toddler on her hips with a large smile and pretty sunglasses on her face.

Despite this, however, (Y/n) couldn't take her eyes off of Robert. She whispered shakily, clutching the picture tightly.

"It's...it's him....my...my father....I remember."

The face filled in the last mannequin in her mind, and the memories began to come to complete life. His angry face when she scared him while in his office, the redness his skin adopted when he was yelling and throwing things around, and the shine of violence that always accompanied his cruel (e/c) eyes.

(Y/n)'s jaw clenched, and a strange feeling of anger began to fill her. White hot rage coursed through her boiling veins, her face darkening the more she began to remember his face. The anger coloring her face in a shadow of darkness made Bucky and Raynor become tense, and (Y/n) clenched her fists tightly.

She stood up, trembling almost violently, and her eyes filled with tears as she glared down at the picture. Her nostrils flared, and she hissed out.

"Я его ненавижу. Я его ненавижу!" (i hate him. i hate him!)

(Y/n) tore him from the picture, allowing the half with her and Doris to fall to the ground as she tore the half of Robert with her hands and teeth, spitting out the bitten pieces out before violently stomping on them as they fell to the ground. Cracks appeared beneath her stomped foot, and she clenched her fists tightly as (Y/n) tried to breathe.

Raynor nor Bucky didn't say anything, just watched with surprise and clinical interest as (Y/n) lashed out. Raynor was writing the whole time, taking her notes, but Bucky was just in awe as he watched (Y/n). She was leaning over now, her eyes squeezed shut as she remembered; hands on her head, and Raynor's voice made her eyes snap open.

"(Y/n), why do you hate him?"

(Y/n) stood up, spinning around and raising her voice, pointing her finger at Raynor.

"I...I hate him! He was...unkind...he would...hurt me and Momma! He would come into my room at night...when Momma was in bed. He would lock the door...and tell me to be good and what I was doing was for a good cause."

(Y/n)'s eyes were wild, and she squeezed her eyes shut again as the tears came down her dampening cheeks. The memories were hitting her hard, shooting fast and hard like bullets, and she was unable to keep the images of the abuse out of her mind.

Why? Why does she have to remember this? Why are they making her?

"I don't want to remember this."

(Y/n) shook her head, clutching at her temples, and when Bucky tried to get up to comfort her, Raynor held her hand out to Bucky with a frown.

"James, what did I say?"

Bucky frowned heavily, giving Raynor a dirty look before slowly sitting back down. Raynor was writing again, and she looked up at (Y/n), who was swaying in place; hands still clutching her temples and eyes squeezed shut.

"(Y/n), can you tell me what you see?"

Hands on her, those horrible eyes, that sneer on his lips, the forbidden sensations of cruelty and twisted hatred as he would stick the needles into her arm while forcing her to stay quiet. (Y/n) whimpered softly.

"He would...use needles...take my blood, inject me with things that...that made me tired. Drugs...I don't know why. I...I don't remember what would happen after...but the needles..."

Her voice trailed off, and an image of Robert forcefully stabbing a needle into her when she was crying too loudly came to her mind, and (Y/n) shook her head furiously. The memory went away, and (Y/n) stood up, holding her arms to her chest as she scrunched her face up into an expression of discomfort. Raynor nodded along as she spoke, and then she hummed.

"Alright, let's move on then. (Y/n), have you ever had coffee before?"

(Y/n) was taken back by the question, not having expected it, and Bucky glanced at Raynor, knowing exactly what she was doing.

Distract them from the situation and the panic. Ask them a question that will force them to think of something else.

"Coffee? I...I don't know."

Raynor glanced at Bucky, asking him.

"James, would you be so kind as to get some coffee?"

Bucky nodded, and (Y/n) looked at him with a slightly worried look on her face. Bucky murmured comfortingly.

"I'll be back in a little while."

(Y/n) slowly nodded as she stood awkwardly, and when Bucky left the room, Raynor gestured for (Y/n) to sit down. After some hesitation, (Y/n) sat down and placed her hands into her lap; trepidation causing her fingers to tremble.

Now that Raynor and (Y/n) were alone, Raynor could see just how uncomfortable and...confused...(Y/n) seemed. To Raynor, it seemed as though (Y/n) didn't know a single thing about life outside of HYDRA despite the programming being gone, and she clicked her pen once and twice.

"(Y/n), do you remember things often?"

(Y/n) pursed her lips, frowning slightly as she took a moment to think.

"Sometimes...I dream about...things. Other times, I remember...when hearing music, or the pictures."

Raynor nodded and she asked, sitting back in her seat while tilting her head.

"Earlier, you mentioned your Aunt Mavis. Do you remember your uncle?"

The memory of Christmas came up, and the man that had been in the memory, Uncle Bobby, came to mind.

"I think I had an uncle named Bobby."

Raynor nodded as she jotted it down in her book before (Y/n) continued to speak.

"The picture...of Christmas. It's the only thing I remember of him. Bucky said that the feeling I had when I was looking at it was me missing them."

Raynor looked at (Y/n) for a moment, simply listening as (Y/n) described the memory to her, and when (Y/n) was finished, Raynor closed her book and said.

"I think that it's good that you're making such good progress, (Y/n). I want to ask you a question, and it's okay if you don't know the answer just yet, but what are your goals for us working together? What do you want me to do for you as a therapist?"

(Y/n) pursed her lips into a thin line, frowning deeply. She hadn't really considered what the goal for therapy was. The conversation with Steve and Bucky came to her mind, and she murmured.

"I...want to make amends...and...make things right."

"What do you mean by 'make things right'?"

(Y/n) swallowed, but before she could answer, Bucky came back into the room with a tray of cups and a pair of big pitchers. The smell of coffee began to fill the room, and Bucky set the tray down on the table beside (Y/n). Pouring three cups, Bucky asked Raynor.

"Coffee as black as your soul, or are you not that evil?"

Raynor rolled her eyes before stating.

"One cream, two sugars."

Bucky nodded, making her cup before handing it to her. Raynor thanked him, and Bucky looked at (Y/n) with a slight smile.

"Do you want one?"

(Y/n) looked apprehensive before asking.

"Am I allowed to?"

Bucky looked taken back and he reassured her.

"Yes, you don't have to have permission to have coffee. Here, I'll make one for you. You seem like a 'coffee with your milk' kind of gal."

He poured a bunch of creamer into one of the cups before handing it to her, and (Y/n) gingerly took the cup. Allowing the warmth of the cup to spread through her palms, her back subconsciously relaxed.

Sniffing it slightly, (Y/n) took an experimental sip before glancing at Bucky and Raynor. Bucky sat down, his coffee completely black, and Raynor took a large sip of her coffee.

"Let's circle back. What do you mean by 'make things right,' (Y/n)?"

Bucky immediately glanced at (Y/n) as the woman stared into her coffee. Rubbing the rim of the cup quietly, (Y/n) murmured.

"I...I hurt a lot of people...and I remember the pain, the blood...the girl."

Her eyes became glassy, nostrils flaring, and she swallowed thickly.

"I...don't want to do that again. I want...I want to....do good."

Raynor nodded slightly, clarifying gently.

"So, from what you're telling me, you want to 'make things right' because you're feeling guilty about what you've done."

Guilty? Is that what this heavy sensation in her chest was? (Y/n) looked perturbed for a moment, tilting her head slightly before she whispered.

"Is that what this feeling is? Every...every time I think about them...about the things that I did...there's this heavy feeling that sits on me. It...It makes me feel bad."

Raynor nodded before explaining.

"Guilt can manifest in many different ways, and for someone that wasn't allowed to feel emotions, it can be pretty heavy and scary. I think that one thing that would help you to understand these emotions that you are feeling is to write them down. Every emotion that you feel, write it down and describe it."

(Y/n) was listening closely, nodding along as she listened to Raynor's instructions. Raynor reached into her bag and handed (Y/n) a blank notebook, stating.

"So, what I want you to do for right now is to journal everything. Any time you feel a new emotion that you're having a hard time understanding, any new memories, or even just about what's going on: write it down, and I'll read what you've written next week."

(Y/n) frowned, asking as she looked up at the woman.

"You...won't stay?"

Raynor shook her head, looking genuinely upset by the notion as she replied.

"I can't. I have other clients that I need to see as well, but King T'Challa has been very generous and stated that for our visits, one of the members of the Dora Milaje will retrieve me so that we can make the most out of our time together."

(Y/n) nodded, and Raynor stood after finishing her coffee. Clutching her bag close, she glanced at Bucky with a harder expression.

"Your turn. Let's go, Barnes."

Bucky looked ready to protest, and Raynor frowned deeply, cutting him off with a finger in the air.

"I don't want to hear it. Conference room, James."

Bucky grumbled to himself before he gave (Y/n) an exasperated look.

"She's such an opportunist."

(Y/n) winced out an awkward smile before taking a sip of her coffee, and Bucky sighed, standing as Raynor began to tap her foot against the ground. When they left the room, (Y/n) turned around and set the notebook onto the table. Spying one of Steve's pens that he had left out, she slowly grabbed it.

The feeling of the pen in her hand was strange and almost foreign, but there was a comforting feeling that began to settle in her chest as she opened the notebook. Writing into the first page, (Y/n) pursed her lips. After a moment of hesitation, (Y/n) began to write.

'Journal Entry #1,

My name is (Y/n) (L/n).'

-

STORY NOTES: The scene opens up to Raynor, (Y/n), and Bucky all together as Raynor conducts her evaluation once more. Raynor begins to investigate (Y/n)'s feelings and the way that she feels, and (Y/n) tells Raynor that Rebecca would write with her. When Raynor inquires about Rebecca, Bucky reveals that (Y/n) Aunt Mavis knew Rebecca through church back in the day. When Raynor asks if (Y/n) remembers her Aunt Mavis, (Y/n) responds that she only remembers her voice and the picture that she has of Mavis. Raynor asks if (Y/n) would be open to showing her these pictures, and (Y/n) lashes out protectively. Raynor comforts (Y/n) by telling her that nobody was going to take the pictures and journals from her, but that she just wanted her to tell about them and what they meant to (Y/n). (Y/n) tells Raynor that she doesn't know what they mean to her, but she knows that the memories are hers. When (Y/n) reveals that she is afraid that her memories will be taken again, Bucky reassures her that nobody will ever take them from her again. (Y/n) is surprised by this, and when she asks if Bucky would really fight for her like that, Bucky confirms without hesitation.

(Y/n) inquires if he still would even if she didn't deserve it, and Bucky begins to reminisce about Germany (Captain America: Civil War), and he replies that it didn't matter if she deserved it or not because she was a victim, just like he had been. When (Y/n) repeats that she doesn't want her memories to be taken again, Bucky is firm as he tells her that nobody will ever wipe her mind again. (Y/n) then begins to contemplate showing some of the pictures to Raynor, and Raynor reassures her that she doesn't have to show them if she doesn't want to because Raynor understands how important they are to (Y/n). Opening the tin, she sets aside the first two pictures that her and Bucky have already seen, and the new picture is of (Y/n) as a toddler while in the garden with Doris. When no memory surfaces because of this picture, (Y/n) moves on. The next picture is of Doris, (Y/n), and Robert while at the beach. When (Y/n) sees Robert's face, she begins to have a panic attack as the memories of the male mannequin finally comes to life. She begins to tear the picture up with rage as she begins to cry, and she begins to repeat how she hates him.

When Raynor inquires about why, (Y/n) reveals that she remembers how Robert would hurt her and Doris. She also reveals that Robert would come into her room at night to conduct experiments; drugging her to make her sleep as Robert experimented. (Y/n) then says that she doesn't want to remember, and when Bucky tries to comfort her, Raynor immediately reprimands him. Bucky reluctantly listens, and Raynor asks (Y/n) to tell her what she sees. (Y/n) describes that she can see him taking her blood and injecting her with things, and she remembers an incident where Robert abused her with the needle for being too loud. In order to distract her from the memory, Raynor asks (Y/n) if she's ever had coffee before.

The tactic works, and Raynor asks Bucky to go get some coffee when (Y/n) responds that she isn't sure. When Bucky leaves, Raynor begins to fully evaluate (Y/n). She notices how uncomfortable and confused the woman seemed, and makes note that she doesn't seem to know a single thing about life outside of HYDRA. She asks (Y/n) if she remembers things often, and (Y/n) replies that she sometimes dreams, but will also remember while listening to music or looking at the pictures. Raynor then asks (Y/n) about her uncle, and (Y/n) tells her that she doesn't remember much of her Uncle Bobby, but tells Raynor that Bucky told her that the feeling she had while looking at the picture was the feeling of 'missing' someone or something. Raynor notes this before asking (Y/n) what her goals for therapy are, and (Y/n) tells her that she wants to 'make things right'. Although Raynor asks for clarification, Bucky comes back with the coffee and interrupts the moment.

After Bucky gives everyone coffee, Raynor circles back to her question, and (Y/n) answers that she remembers how she hurt a lot of people, and remembers the little girl that she had to kill to ensure complete secrecy for HYDRA. She states that she doesn't want to do that again and that she wants to be good. Raynor then clarifies that the reason she wants to do good is because she feels guilty, and (Y/n) becomes surprised that the feeling has a name. (Y/n) reveals that every time she thinks of the people she hurt, she feels that sensation, and Raynor instructs (Y/n) to write down these feelings as she feels them to help her get an understanding of them. She further instructs that she wants (Y/n) to journal everything that she experiences: new feelings, new memories, or anything that happens. She tells (Y/n) that she would read them next week, and (Y/n) is surprised to hear that Raynor will not be staying in Wakanda. When (Y/n) inquires about this, Raynor tells (Y/n) that she has other clients that she has to help, but that T'Challa would assist in her journey to Wakanda so they can have as much time together as possible.

The session with (Y/n) closes, and Raynor takes this opportunity to spring a session onto Bucky, and though Bucky tries to protest, Raynor does not give him an opportunity to. When the two of them leave the room, (Y/n) immediately begins to write, a feeling of familiar comfort coming over her as she writes. End Scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

Я его ненавижу. Я его ненавижу - I hate him. I hate him.

TAGLIST: @mggslefttit @softpia @thebl00dwyrm @buckvoidsyy @chonkybonky @seemsxsketchy @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10 @bane-y-zane @notsostrangerthing @thenameswinter99 @bumblebeebutter @torntaltos @highhopes1008

[viviansturns]

𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆

╰┈➤ 𝒃𝒔𝒇!𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒙 𝒃𝒔𝒇!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒄

relevant fics so you understand the context, however you can still enjoy this without the background information: graduation, facetime calls

You’re scanning the airplane arrivals, heart hammering, when you hear it—

“y/n!”

His voice.

You turn just in time to see Chris sprinting toward you, duffel flailing behind him, curls bouncing, grin stretched so wide it looks like it hurts. And then—bam—arms around your waist, your feet off the ground, the world spinning in a blur of terminal lights and pure laughter.

“Chris!” you squeal, clutching at his shoulders like he might fly away again if you let go.

He spins you once, twice, before finally setting you down—but he doesn’t let go. Not even a little. He’s still grinning like a golden retriever on espresso, then leans in closer, nose brushing your hair. He inhales dramatically.

“You smell different.”

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs, soft and honest. “I don’t know. Not like shampoo. Just… different. Like home.”

Your heart flips. “You look different.”

His face lights up. “Hotter?”

You snort. “You’re delusional.”

He gasps. “Excuse you, I’ve been eating healthy and doing, like, five pushups a day.”

You laugh, loud and unfiltered, and he stares at you like it’s the best sound he’s heard in nine months.

And then, just like that, his grin fades into something quieter. Something real.

“Nine months,” he says softly. “And now you’re actually here.”

You look up at him. Really look. “Yeah. You’re actually here.”

Just as you and Chris are catching your breath, you hear footsteps behind him.

“Don’t you idiots forget about me.” Matt’s voice cuts through the crowd, and Nick’s right behind, grinning.

Chris lets go of you reluctantly but gives Matt a mock glare.

You turn and pull Matt into a tight hug, laughing at the way he tries to play it cool but clearly missed you.

“Hey, stranger,” you say, ruffling his hair.

Then Nick sweeps you into a bear hug, lifting you right off the ground. “God, y/n, we missed you so much. Chris wouldn’t shut up about seeing you.”

“Liar,” Chris mutters.

You pull him in too, happy and a little overwhelmed. “Damn right. Can’t believe you guys are really here.”

The four of you stand there for a beat—messy, loud, happy—like no time has passed at all.

“Let's go get some food, am I right?” yells Chris, giving you a hard pat on the back.

“I’m fuckin’ starving,” you add.

_________

You end up at some diner ten minutes from the airport—mostly because it was the only thing left open at 1:00AM

Now you’re all squeezed into a booth, fries in the middle, menus barely glanced at, because no one’s actually focused on food.

“So then I’m walking across campus,” you’re saying, animated, “and this squirrel just launches itself at my iced coffee. Squirrels here are so tame it’s fuckin’ insane! I think it’s because there's a nursing home with grannies who love feeding them..”

Chris chokes on his water. “You’ve been in LA for a semester and you’re already beefing with wildlife?”

“Campus squirrels are insane,” you say solemnly. “Jacob saw one chase a dog around.”

“Jacob?” Matt raises an eyebrow.

“My roommate,” you explain.

Chris’s expression twitches for a split second, but he covers it with a smirk. “He better not be funnier than me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “He is.”

Chris puts a hand, actually offended. “Wow.”

Nick’s laughing. “Can’t even give you ten minutes without the jealousy kicking in.”

“I’m not jealous,” Chris says immediately, which is the most jealous thing he could possibly say.

You ignore it, kicking him under the table just a little. “Anyway. Tell me about you guys. What’s it like being the internet’s favorite triplets now?”

Matt leans back with a smug grin. “I mean, it’s no squirrel attack story, but we are kind of killing it.”

“No big deal,” Nick adds, clearly trying to play it cool, but his eyes are sparkling. “Just a couple million people watching our videos every day.”

Chris is spinning a straw wrapper between his fingers. “It’s been insane. We’re getting emails about brand deals, travel, and some dude recognized me in the bathroom at a gas station. We were literally both pissing while he talked about how he was our biggest fan.”

“That’s how you know you’ve made it,” you tease.

“It’s weird though,” Nick says, a little softer now. “Like, none of this felt real— or I mean, it still doesn’t feel real.”

Your chest aches—in the good way.

Chris nudges your knee under the table. “It’s different now. In the best way.”

You meet his eyes. Warm. Familiar. Glowing, a little.

“I’m proud of you guys,” you say, and you mean it with your whole heart. “I always knew you’d make it. You didn’t make me laugh until I threw up for years just to not blow up.”

Matt raises his water glass like it’s champagne. “To a new start.”

___________

By the time you pull up to the hotel, everyone’s full of fries and minimal adrenaline that's just barely holding off the exhaustion that’s been creeping in since the triplets landed in LA.

The boys are crashing here for the night—just until their new place is ready. And you, despite having your own apartment waiting, didn’t even hesitate when Chris asked if you wanted to come hang out one more night.

“Just want some company, y'know?” he’d said in the car, voice a little soft over the music. “Like… it’s night one, I need you there.”

So you’re here. One room over from Matt and Nick, brushing your teeth in matt’s borrowed oversized tee and fuzzy socks, Chris already sprawled across the bed like he owns it.

“I call the right side,” he declares, face muffled in the bed.

You raise an eyebrow. “And what if I wanted the right side?”

He stares, unblinking. “Too late Im here.”

You roll your eyes but crawl in anyway, tugging the comforter over both of you as the city hums outside the window. The lights are dim. The air’s a little cold. Chris shifts closer.

And then he wraps an arm around your waist like it’s nothing. Like it’s everything.

“Comfy?” he asks, voice low now.

You nod. “Warm.”

He hums. “I missed this.”

You glance over, and his face is inches from yours—eyes fluttering half-shut, lips tugging up in a sleepy smile.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” he adds, quieter now, like he doesn’t want to wake the moment. “Feels more like home with you here.”

You don’t say anything for a second. 

“I’m glad too.”

Then, he adds: “You’re getting soft on me. You’d usually tell me I’m gross or some shit.”

“Whatever. I’m nice tonight because I feel like you deserve it,” you mumble, already practically fading into unconsciousness.

With a sigh, he lays on his back and just pulls you in until your head is resting on his arm and chest, one of your arms draped around his body, and his wrapped around your shoulder.

And slowly, gently, like you’ve both been waiting for it for nine months straight, you drift off—wrapped up in the kind of quiet that only comes from finally being right where you belong.

And when your breathing is deep and slow, and he’s sure you’re fully asleep, he whispers into the dark.

“I love you, bug.”

YALL IM EDGING MYSELF ATP I CANT DO IT I CANT DO IT

chris is SO SWEET IN THIS JEsUSSSSS I CANT TAKE IT

i need to get a life.

more little sweet blurbs coming soon! ill make them kiss soon i promiseeeee

@sturniolosrtewsexy @sturnbrooke @emely9274 @babytomatoes21 @arianna1342 @gemzyy @namelesssav @chestersturn @ellieluvssturniolos @tits4matt @vanteguccir @luke8989 @matt-sturnioloo @glee2skkii @riggysworld @sturnslux3 @cass-sturn @auttysturnz @oopsiedaisydeer @chrismakesmewet @whore4chris @sturns-mermaid @eeyoresturnz @httpssturns @chrxsprettygirl @bernardsbendystraws @chrisbratt333 @aurorasturnz @iluvchr1s @sturniolosymphony @joanakaulitz @sturn-ath3na @chrispycremedonut @matts-hersheys-kisses

[christian-ford]

“Out of thin air is right. Sometimes it’s like, where do I get ideas from? Myself? My life? It’s—” Christian broke off to laugh. “—It’s funny, because I used to have these insane ideas naturally, without having to try too hard, and now I feel like I’m not a novelist so much as a professional thinker. I guess that’s not that funny. The funnier part of that is that no one is expecting me to have ideas anymore—I’m writing a series, and I’m on the third book—so by doing something original, each chapter that I work on, it’s like I’m sticking it to some imaginary man that dictates that series should be uniform. I tell that imaginary man to mind his own business when I’m out of ideas. That’s not funny, either, so much as it is sad, but it’s how it is.” The man was not imaginary. The man was his editor. And sometimes the conversations actually happened.

The woman’s description of her professional life was fascinating. There were so many things that she did each day… MRIs, injections, biopsies—the array of tasks was incredible. Christian wondered how hard it had been at the beginning of her career…and if she felt the pride she probably merited for knowing how to do it now.

“How did you learn how to do all of that—the ins and outs of the different images, the right and wrong ways to do a biopsy, even what it was like to work with real patients? Medical school probably does some of that, on a really basic level. But what I mean is—how did you learn to just…trust yourself? Take a step forward, so to speak, when you needed to during your day—say, I know how to do this procedure? It seems like becoming a doctor happens somewhere along the way…and I’m really curious to know when it happened for you.”

Manduguk sounded delicious. Christian instantly resolved to Google it when he got inside the store, so he could add the necessary ingredients to his cart. “Oh, my God, that sounds amazing,” Christian told the woman gratefully. “Thank you so much. I love getting different recipes, different suggestions from people. I really appreciate that.”

Christian grinned when the woman described “pancake sandwiches”. “Yes! Pancake sandwiches sound like the food you’d think about for days after making them, wishing you could eat them again. I’ll have to throw some pancake mix into my cart next time.” At the woman’s question about Christian’s relationship with the grocery store, he just shook his head. “You know, I’ve been heading to the grocery store once a week, every week for the past six years. And I only just started going multiple times a week, because—you’re right—I really, really like it. But I know how it is to, like you say, stretch every ingredient before making a trip here. It can be tough, having a job that doesn’t accommodate errands.” (His mom’s new job as a florist. As one of only a few employees, she was working many hours.)

“And it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.” He’d learned that from Caroline the other week. “I feel like the mood you’re in at certain points of your day is a kind of privilege that we don’t talk about. I’m lucky to come to the grocery store really well-rested, because I’ve been sitting in my writing chair for the previous eight hours. But other people have been on their feet, or even doing physical labor. And they don’t get to enjoy their evening as much because they’re burnt out. Those are some of my best hours.” He paused, rueful. “I wish people got to experience more of life in those lost hours. Feel more themselves. I don’t know.”

At his mention that it was a creative job, but it was one that could come with difficulties, like if there was a creative block she gave a soft nod, "I could understand that, the ability to feel like you are constantly on demand — or I guess in some ways I do understand that, just in a very different form. But all brains need breaks, can't expect them to produce something, literally, out of thin air, at all times." The creative process involved so much when it came to writing a novel, something that she'd find far more stressful than the high demands of a hospital, but they all had their specialties.

"Kind of? Probably most people might associate x-rays but there's a lot of other things I read and do. I read MRI scans, CTs, I give IV injections of contrast, I'm there for anyone who hasn't had one before if they have an allergic reaction to CT contrast, I do biopsies through either ultrasound guided or MRI guided forms, among others, — interventional radiology, but besides that yes, I do interpret medical images." It didn't bother her that not everyone knew what radiologist did because it was a speciality for a reason, not everyone could do it. Some people even thought it was a boring and cheap way out as a doctor, but when she was doing biopsies and attempting to keep those patients relaxed and calm, she knew she did something special.

As the man explained his personal mission, "Don't think anyone is really going to judge you for having a cart full for fruit and veggies, but if you want to add a little twist and are looking to try different cultures soups, I would recommend Manduguk, it's a Korean dumpling soup. You can get veggie filled dumplings but there's pork or chicken filled dumplings you can use. Very delicious, very filling. Highly recommend." At his mention of one day buying a ton of meat, she laughed, "Oh but I love breakfast-for-dinner, I haven't done that in forever. I may have to dig out my waffle iron and make Belgian waffles and oh, oh, pancake sandwiches — you know, the ones where you use pancakes as the bread has a little syrup, sausage, egg, cheese. Ugh, you are expanding my shopping list." Maybe this was why she did need a shopping buddy, to give her more creative ideas then what she was typically buying.

"Sometimes." Furrowing her brows, "It depends on how many hours I've been on call, how tired I am, how far I've stretched every ingredient in my house before I have to come here." she said, "What about you, seems like you've got a pretty good relationship with the grocery store here if you're worried about them judging you over fruits and veggies."

[scarecrowdrugs]

I've been perusing the popular takes on the lore as a newcomer and I totally get why people go for the opportunities for angst with the first 3 Papas being killed but I think it's way funnier to imagine that it was just like...a mild inconvenience given the fact that ghosts canonically exist and they just don't show up in the Chapters because they're still a bit peeved about the whole murder situation.

[the-goddess-of-gays]

Meg: *napping in a sunlit patch of grass* Apollo: What are you doing? Meg: Photosynthesising. Go away. Apollo: Mortals can photosynthesise? Is that a Demeter kid thing? Meg: Apollo: Meg: Apollo: Apollo, horrified: Is that a girl thing?

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

hero/villain showdown but one of them has a spontaneous medical emergency and the battle gets put on hold while their archnemesis drives them to Urgent Care

[surreal-duck]

this one goes out to a certain middle schooler who wouldve been eviscerated on the spot by woke miraculous

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 4: Deranged Bedfellows

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.5)

[ineffably-human]

So here's my problem.

And it's not about Nandermo, not exactly anyway. Because I didn't expect Nandermo to become textual until the very end, if at all. The show kept making it clear that they liked their ambiguity to keep the relationship on the razor's edge, and Paul Simms made it clearer and clearer that for some reason (put a pin in this) he just couldn't see their connection as a sexual one.

But I frankly don't care about that, because if anything is canon in this show it's that the vampires will eventually fuck everything, and Nandor canonically fucks his other friends. More importantly, their connection was always the emotional core of both characters. And Paul always did say he saw their relationship as a romance, if a strange and non-sexual one.

So I figured we'd maybe get Nandor confessing that Guillermo meant a lot to him (and immediately walking it back a little), or Guillermo confessing how lost he feels without his vampire dream and Nandor offering him a place. Maybe an ambiguous, could-just-be-queerplatonic-partners 'I love you'. Maybe just the hug they kept teasing for three or four seasons and never got. We got like...half of two of those, in episode 10, so I guess that's a wobbly semi-fulfilled thing by my definition of it.

But it's not the Nandermo of it all. It's the Guillermo of it all. And how this final episode seemed to almost mock Guillermo's place at the emotional core of the show.

And the Guillermo of it all is why we never got the Nandermo of it all.

Shadows has vampires doing absurd-ass things, but every character also has things they want and feel, and there are various amounts of emotional ink spilled about it. The show has found space, sometimes very poignant space, to take that seriously in between the piss and sex jokes. The vampires change very slowly and in spirals, they repeat a lot of their old issues that stem back even to their mortal lives. But they always try.

And things do change in the vampire house; that is not the same household from the first season. Every single character, right down to the Baron and the Guide and Derek, are in different and better places than they were before the show began. They've made progress in their individual desires, and a lot of that is due to the improved connections they have with each other, connections we've watched them foster. A lot of the time it's because they're talked about as a found family, something Guillermo started and Guillermo believed before any of the rest of them did.

---

So where is Guillermo this season? Our human point of view, our dynamic character, the character who has a dream and wants something more than any of the others? Whose dream drives the storyline of the entire show?

Guillermo has chosen to be human, and he thinks he can't be part of the household if he's not a vampire. We watch Guillermo try to throw himself back into the human world trying to make up for lost time - to the point that he forgets the person he called his best friend, the people he called his family, in a way I think we never fully resolve. He thinks he's thriving, and he doesn't even seem upset about leaving the others behind.

We watch him revert (and that's fine, people revert sometimes) to the same waiting lapdog he was when we started the series. We watch him realize that and he says no. Nandor stands up for him, and feels better and more fulfilled in doing so, and that's a great capstone for Nandor and Nandor's own tendency for selfishness. And that's excellent. Episode 10 was a great start for all the ground they had to cover.

Nandor offers for Guillermo to be his partner in crime. His sidekick, but Guillermo expressed that desire back in season one so it's not an insult inherently. But here's the problem. Here's the part of Guillermo that has frankly always been a problem, because I thought it's something the show was eventually going to cover respectfully, and instead it was always part of the joke.

---

Guillermo is someone who made a decision sixteen years ago as part of a very young man's desire, to be respected and have cool powers, to live forever, to see the world. (He somehow thought being a vampire, and only a vampire, could get him those things but that's a rant for another time.)

That young man has grown up. He's in his mid-thirties, he has a body count. We've watched him at various times be empathetic, clever, cunning, and brave. Also extremely sexy in bodyguard gear. (And for some reason, the show keeps wanting us to forget that for a season he was extremely competent and badass and sexy pretty much all the time, and he seemed thrilled to be in that role, and he didn't even care about being a vampire if he could protect Nandor in that way and be regarded as 'part of the team'.)

Then Nandor dresses him in a stupid cowboy costume, and gives him a sidekick name ending in 'Kid', which he seems less than thrilled about. They all still talk about him the entire episode as if he's a disobedient child. The vampires speculate if Guillermo is having a fling with the crew, but no - Guillermo's had one boyfriend, who we saw him hug once and nothing more. Despite living in a house for fifteen years that is openly raunchy and shameless, he seems like a character designed to be both desexed and humiliated, and they never expand on the reason why.

(And if Guillermo were ace it'd be amazing, hell it's my headcanon at this point, but I don't think that's what they're going for. I think the show just desexualizes Guilermo. As a matter of praxis. For some reason.)

And the show has done this more and more to Guillermo in the later seasons. Nandor says he could steal original!Freddie easily from Guillermo if he wanted to. The vampires laugh at the thought of him being a vampire - "a little bat pooping everywhere," and Guillermo's time as a vampire has him basically feeling no different in his sexuality or, after a very brief moment, his confidence. Even Nandor's big climactic moment in Episode 10 has him saying that just because Guillermo isn't as cool or hot or interesting or strong as Jordan (or Nandor) doesn't mean Guillermo deserves to be treated poorly.

Look, I don't know if it's because Harvey Guillen is babyfaced, or because he's fat, or because he carries a different energy to his masculinity. Or because it's great to talk about gay sex and being horny, but writing a gay relationship is just too hard. Or some fun combination of all those things.

But I keep thinking about everyone freaking out when Nandor swooped into the collapsed floorboards to save Guillermo in season 4, and everyone freaked out and swooned. And Paul Simms expressed that as "[Nandor] has to save his little buddy."

Guillermo is a grown-ass man, with a desire to feel powerful and special and accepted, who Nandor sees as his little buddy. (Who everyone in the house sees as their little buddy, and it's nice he's part of the family, but...) After every emotional beat that makes them seem like equals with a special connection, he reverts to the less-cool sidekick who makes Nandor feel special and important. And Guillermo's prior devotion to Nandor - not to vampirism, not to a job or promotion, to Nandor - changes to other things, but Nandor never figures out why that hurts him so much. And for some reason the deepest bond of the series just isn't sexual, the showrunner just can't see it that way, in a house where everyone's fucking but not you Guillermo.

We're at the end of the story, and that's our punchline.

---

And we don't end on one of the points where Guillermo is asserting himself as someone who deserves to be taken seriously, and given the things he wants - and the show has had plenty of those moments, all of which seem to be building and evolving his relationships over the years.

We end on Guillermo being told that suddenly, the documentary is packing up without any fanfare or clarity on what they were looking for in the first place. We get Guillermo stumbling for clarity on what it all meant, what the point was for him and what his life is going to be now. We're told over and over again the documentary (and Guillermo, and the viewers) needs a satisfying capstone, needs emotional closure.

And the vampires tell him to shut up. And they tell him this has all happened before, and none of it is special to them. ("No human is special," Nandor said several episodes ago, and never went back on it.) And they tell him to do a little dance for their amusement, and Colin recites some pithy lines. And every attempt to take a moment to care about Guillermo's journey, or the core of his character and what he needs, is turned into a joke for him and for us.

Guillermo's looking for a point to it all, for some kind of fulfillment, and there wasn't one. And everyone is satisfied in that but him. And even if there were times Guillermo got the chance to be respected, to have cool powers (which he kept, but the vampires keep forgetting them), to live forever (he will die and leave Nandor someday!), to see the world - none of these things are going to come to him now.

It would make absolute, complete, and devastating sense for Guillermo to feel he's outgrown them and to leave. Nandor doesn't even seem upset enough to try and stop him. We never really get a clear reason about why he decides to stay.

I mean, it's for friendship or something, with a line about how they can still be close but he needs 'his own thing'. But in six seasons, over and over and over, we've been driven back to the idea that the most emotional part of this story is Guillermo's desire to become accepted in this family, and the effect he has on Nandor. That Guillermo needs this home and he consistently makes Nandor softer, kinder, less selfish and more fulfilled when they're together.

But those parts of their relationship, the love story parts, don't matter. Guillermo is going to find 'his own thing' when it's been clear how entrenched in this world he is (right down to his DNA), but Nandor will drag him back into shenanigans anyway, probably keeping Guillermo from whatever 'his own thing' is.

And Guillermo will always be Nandor's sidekick, his little buddy, never to be taken seriously. And one day, Guillermo will die, and he'll be someone they all forget. And for some reason, he'll be just fine with that, because he belongs with them but will never really be in a better position.

And he'll be satisfied with that. For some reason. But I won't.

[beastwhimsy]

this would happen

[classic-jamie]

breaking news: worst roomate in the world both DIDN'T stay on top of his laundry AND talked his roomie into doing something stupid. AGAIN.

this message WILL repeat in 2 weeks when he pulls it off again

[alistairlowee]

[theactualsunshinechild]

I think Aventio and Screwtio shippers shouldn't fight. After all, Ratio has two hands!

That's right. Two hands.

One for his chalk.

One for his codex.

Both of which he's holding in an embarrassed death grip as they chat away with each other about him.