#but now in adult life? i hate every fucking job i do simply because of how otger people treat me

[palmviolet]

how to cope with moving to another town for the first time?

im gonna be getting my master's but for that i need to move and it feels scary as hell

i am so late to answering this, so if you've already moved, then congrats, and i hope it went well! if not, right this way...

i've been in my new place about a month now and it's honestly been amazing. but i can say that because it now feels amazing in sort of hindsight? in that i had my ups and downs the first few days, stressed about my decision-making, missed the countryside etc. it happens. now it feels amazing. trust that you'll get to that point. and the things to keep telling yourself when these feelings creep in:

just sit with this feeling. it's okay to feel bad things. (something i'm working on lol i'm very much a 'everything is fine' person. sometimes it's not fine. and that's fine.)

life's about experiences. some of those experiences are stressful and bad. now you've moved you probably have a lot more shit to think about and a lot of shit to do literally all the time. maybe you'll be on tumblr less and going outside more — which is a dreadful prospect when you're thinking about it, but when you're doing it, you'll probably be doing it because you want to. which is one of the hardest things to accept about growing as a person, that our wants and fears will change. unfortunately, moving does change you. so–

main character syndrome it. make four moving playlists and a moodboard for your new room, sit there with your decorations and candles and the music blasting and pretend it's the opening scene to a movie. romanticise the hell out of it because you're growing into a new phase of life, you're going to meet new people, you're going to try new things — it's exciting. maybe tomorrow you'll try the food that will be your favourite for the next ten years. maybe you'll discover a new song to soundtrack your year. maybe you'll fall in love. world is your oyster etc etc

time might run linearly, but life sure as hell does not. you can always say fuck it and try something different. this is another thing that's comforting — that you're an adult, and you can genuinely do what you want. you hate your masters, hate your new town, hate the move? (circumstances permitting) move back! and if you can't move back, look at your life and see what you can change. maybe you can't quit your job but you can start saving to move away from your shitty roommate. you can delete instagram because watching 57 reels every morning makes you depressed and you can find a new place to study that isn't your own kitchen table, like that historic library around the corner you didn't even know was there. you can go to that social event alone and make a new best friend, or just a familiar face to smile at on the street. you can live.

the world is full of choices and that's terrifying but also so very very liberating. social pressure loves to convince us there's a linear narrative our lives should follow — a highly normative, conservative vision of nuclear success, watered-down but still very much present in liberal ideology — and it's simply not fucking true. go wild and follow your dreams and remember that nothing is permanent, very little is irreversible, and you can do what you want. so do what you want.

[scaly-freaks]

cherry wine stains 7.0

all previous parts in pinned.

Alcoholism.

It's a heavy word, meaty, sticks like mango fibers between the teeth. By the time someone suggests it might be relevant to you, you're already a lost soul, wandering in a forest where the trees are broken liquor bottles, each label fancier than the next. Did you hear about so-and-so? Yeah, I hear they're an alcoholic now.

A stamp of disconfirmation on your validity as a well-functioning human being. There is no such thing as a functioning alcoholic. It's a bandage term, to disguise the inevitable slip-and-kick of the stool.

But Amara thinks she's functioning perfectly well.

It started with a glass of wine after dinner, as most things do. She hated the bitter taste as a teenager. Her tastebuds are still puerile, but the fuzziness she couldn't appreciate when she was younger is well-cherished now. Adults are more patient; they can get through the nasty bits for the soft, cushy marrow underneath.

If only she hadn't developed a hobby of painting the bottles once she was done with them.

Now the evidence is all over her home. It's like a serial killer removing the bones of her victims and painting them to hang as wind chimes (like that one episode of Criminal Minds that she kind of sort of remembers watching when she was too drunk to move).

At first she tells herself it's to cope with Rafael's threat. But when two months pass by and nothing happens, she can't say that it is. Besides, he was found in the river last week, chock fill of heroin that hadn't yet left his system. Amara knows for a fact he never touched drugs, not once he began to deal them.

It must have been Aegon.

She wonders when he graduated to murder, and if that means he sees people differently now. Knowing how easy it is to kill another person must transform the psyche irrevocably. She also wonders who told him Rafael was making threats towards her because it certainly wasn't Amara herself. Or if that was even the reason Rafael had died.

She'd gone home the night she saw Aegon at the club and drank until she couldn't see straight. Elizabeth and Gwen returned later to put her to bed, thinking she had simply had too much fun at the club and then somehow, rather responsibly, gotten herself home in a taxi.

Two months since that night.

She's learned to live happily in her forest of painted glass bottles and the day job she took on in between performances because nothing pays the bills these days except for crime. But she doesn't have the stomach for that.

It's how Aegon finds her.

An insistent bell press should have warned her who is on the other side. He's had the same way of assaulting doorbells since he was a child.

Her surprise at seeing him is dampened by the way he recoils at the stench of alcohol.

Shame washes over her, like the tide regurgitating garbage onto the beach. She doesn't look great either. Hair unwashed, dark circles, body doused in fabric that neither flatters nor enhances. Some days, she's swear she's put on weight. Others, her skin feels glued to her bones with nothing in between. She can't tell what she weighs anymore; her eyes skim over the reflection in every mirror she passes as if staring directly into it will bring a monster to her door.

But it hasn't. It's brought Aegon.

He snaps into action the way only an older brother can. With three younger siblings, he's never lived in any other state.

When she argues, he snaps at her, and they have a screaming match unprompted. It's as if no time has elapsed. Just last night, they were together, and now they're fighting again. She says something about it's my life blah-blah-blah and i'm fine and he tells her to shut up and take a fucking shower. That works better than kind words could have, because she goes upstairs just to get away from him.

And then once the shower is done, she realises she feels better, which of course annoys her all over again. But all the shouting has worn her out. She doesn't have the energy for more.

She stays up in her room - which is surprisingly neat - and hears him walking around downstairs tidying up. Elizabeth and Gwen haven't been home in a couple weeks, so it's been Amara alone, turning the place into a badger's den.

It isn't till she hears the clink of the glass bottles that she runs down in a panic. "Don't throw those away. I painted them."

"And I can paint a dope syringe and call it art," is his acrid response. "You've collected them like fucking trophies."

The brutality of his hand gathering them up leaves her feeling as substantial as a piece of crumpled paper teetering on the edge of a windy balcony.

She drops herself on the bottom step to watch as Aegon clears away months of her hard work. My liver struggled through all that for nothing.

He drops off the garbage bags by the bins and when he returns, Amara has her head between her knees. She is going through a list of things he might have wanted to tell her in person.

I'm leaving the country.

I'm going to jail.

I'm engaged.

I'm going to be a father.

She'll never know how she manages to force the words out. "Why are you here?"

Aegon stares at her with a hooded expression that either means run or are you fucking stupid? Neither makes her feel very good.

She wonders why he's being such a prick. Or if maybe he was a prick all along, and she just chose to ignore it because he was less of a prick to her than he was to everyone else. And don't we all just love to feel special to pricks like that?

"Why? Do you want me to leave?"

"If you're going to keep throwing away my stuff, yes."

"That wasn't stuff. You're an alcoholic and you're wearing it like a badge of honour. And don't you dare tell me you can do what you want."

"I wasn't going to."

"Yes you were."

She was.

"Still. Something brought you here. Or someone."

"You've been ignoring my calls for weeks."

Amara frowns. "No, I haven't. You never called."

He holds out his hand for her phone, and she doesn't think twice before handing it over. Most people would. Phones are such intimate objects. Giving them to someone unlocked is the animal equivalent of rolling over to expose your belly.

"Why do you have my number blocked?" he asks.

"I don't have your - that's not your number."

"It's my new number."

"...oh." Comprehension sinks in. "I was getting a lot of cold calls around that time. I started blocking numbers I didn't know. You probably should have texted first."

Aegon flares his eyes as if to say yeah, no shit. Maybe that would explain the negativity straight out of the door. She wasn't feeling too happy that he'd ghosted her, but he was going through the same thing. Knowing about Sara meant she hadn't bothered to follow up and ask why she was no longer on his contact list.

He comes to sit on the stairs, a couple steps beneath her, and they stew in the silence. The atmosphere feels loaded, like a gun about to go off. Or maybe that's all in her head. Aegon has both his hands shoved into his pockets, one leg carelessly tossed over the other as his eyes fill with light from the window.

"I'm sorry for the mess."

He snorts. "You call this a mess?"

"It kind of is." She bites a hangnail and looks around. "I think I like letting myself go just to see how bad it can get."

Aegon chuckles. "And this is your worst, is it?"

"I'd say so."

"Spoken like a ballerina."

"You don't think this is bad?"

"I think you're a functioning alcoholic who would have tidied up eventually and pretended nothing was wrong."

"There's no such thing as a functioning alcoholic. I looked it up."

"Newsflash: if you're looking it up, you are it, angel."

Her stomach does several somersaults at the familiar pet name. He doesn't seem to realise - or care - that he said it. Perhaps it's always been ordinary to him that Amara is something as hyperbolic as an angel. It's something he's never questioned. That both flatters and worries her, because the only way to go from high up in the heavens is down, down, down.

"Functioning alcoholic and an only child. Would explain the refusal to ask for help in order to fester," he continues.

"People with siblings fester too, you know."

"The ones with crappy siblings, yeah. You could have called Helaena. She clearly seems to think you two are closer than you do."

"That's not true. She's one of my oldest friends."

"Oldest doesn't mean closest. Do you want me to tell her how I found you?"

"No."

"Then you're not close."

"If you came here to lecture me, I'd rather you left."

"Unblock my number. Then, I'll leave."

She snatches up her phone and does exactly that, but before she can show it to him, Aegon grabs her wrist and forces the action himself. In the process, he pulls her nearer, and her damp hair falls over him like a scented curtain. She sees him visibly inhale, coupled with a slight tremor in his jaw.

Their eyes meet and she thinks of Rafael floating in that river.

Aegon's hands feel the same as they used to, not at all like they've killed someone.

But the soft blue edge to his eyes is gone. He has less patience. And now her wrist is caught in his hand, and he is staring at her like he wants to tear into the soft skin of her neck. Or she's imagining it all. Living inside a mind you don't trust is a hell all on its own.

"Next time I call you, pick up," he tells her.

Danger licks at the words like the flame of a lighter.

She's not imagining it.

Once he's gone, she lies back on the stairs, waiting for the fear to kick in.

Her childhood crush is gone, and in his place is someone that has learned to carve his place in the world with violence.

But the fear doesn't come. There is nothing of the sort.

Instead, it feels like a chain has wrapped itself around her neck and Aegon holds the other end.

She can't remember the last time she felt so secure.

[pettyprocrastination]

I turn 23 in 30 minutes

(discussion of mental health, depression, and body image/body weight).

I'm queuing this post ahead of time in hopes that by midnight I will be asleep like a responsible adult because I do in fact have work in the morning (fixing my sleep schedule is a slow and steady race I promise you all) but this is just a sort of. reflection? on my year and my thoughts on reaching another big age.

nobody needs to look at this- I'm just using this as a journal because I'm pretty sure mine is still in the trunk of my car from when I went on vacation.

anywhoo. I turn 23 in 30 minutes. And its. weird?

But still nice.

I started this year off in a horrendous spot.

I was 112 lbs, still working my shit retail job where i'd go and cry in the bathroom just about every single shift for the next two months. I didn't want to eat, sleep, shower, or interact with anybody. I hadn't felt like this since my stepfather died and even then it wasn't as severe. I hated myself and blamed myself for everything wrong in my life, I felt like a ghost in my own body.

But slowly, things began to improve.

I have a new job now, a 9 to 5 that I enjoy yet I'm unfortunately going to have to return to the job hunt soon so I can find one that gives me benefits as I can't stay on my family's health insurance forever (the joys of adulthood) but It still feels good to have that dedicate schedule where I get to work with my hands and get paid for it every Monday through Friday.

I'm spending more time with my friends. Last week I spent a week at the beach with a dear friend of mine and a collection of her own friends, none of which I had met before. I was absolutely petrified initially but had the time of my life with them all, ending the wonderful experience with going to my first ever concert and crying from the joy of it all. (it was hozier.)

I'm pushing myself to do more and go out- I'm in a coaching position for my roller derby league, I recently attended a practice scrimmage with players who have been in this sport for 8+ years and while I fully believed I didn't belong in this space, I was able to hold my own and had so much fun getting to play with all of them. I don't know if i'll be able to try out for the state league because of scheduling- but maybe some day further down the line.

I took a day trip out of state to go to an all women's gym with friends at my university before I graduated. One thing to know about me is that I go to the gym alone about 99.9% of the time. I'm not good at social situations, especially ones in new areas so the notion initially was one I was ready to dismiss- but how often do you get chances like that?

I've signed up for my first ever powerlifting meet. I'm still very new to the gym with less than a year of weight lifting under my belt, but i've told myself this is the year to push myself and become somebody I'm proud of nobody how hard it is going to be. I've always loved powerlifting and want to get into the sport so bad but I can't afford a coach nor do I want to sign up for a full competition without knowing the ins and outs of the first event. I found a local deadlifting competition for a pride foundation next month and signed up for it with the goal of increasing my deadlift by at least 10 lbs by then. I'm simply competition against myself and trying to see how much I can progress during that time, which is something I really love about the sport. I'm still a fucking lightweight loser when it comes to heavy lifting- but at least this way I'll be able to see what a meet is like and learn what to expect.

I started going to therapy beginning of February/late January. It's been a saving grace honestly. Having an unbiased professional I can sit and talk and cry to has been quite the saving outlet. I rent a private study room at the library once every week for our meetings and it's become a little ritual of my own that i'm quite fond of now. (take this as your reminder that your local public library has so many amazing resources that even if you don't read often you can still use!!) though I've only been going for a few months, it's helped me drastically in how I view myself and letting others in during moments of weakness.

I'm allowing myself to rely on my friends. It isn't easy. And honestly sometimes I fucking hate it and feel pathetic for it- but my friends have been there for me so goddamn much within the past few months I honestly don't know where I'd be without them. There are days where I'd rather curl up In my bed and not speak to a single soul about how I feel because there's nothing I fear more than being a burden to those I love- but I have to remind myself that they want to be there for me the same way I want to be there for them. If they need me to pull back they'll simply communicate that desire and I will do so, but I can't keep assuming the worst when I need to rely on somebody for love and support. It's hard to not feel like a burden in those moments, that I'm exhausting those I love- but I also know I would do the same for them any day of the week. "Shared joy is double the joy, shared sorrow is half the sorrow".

I'm back at 124 lbs. I know it may not seem like much to others but gaining back that 12 lbs over four months has been such an uphill battle not only due to my own genetics+metabolism that makes gaining weight a fucking pain in the ass, but also keeping myself accountable when my mental health is at an all time low to still eat full meals and take care of my body. The moment I stepped on the scale and saw those numbers I cried real tears. I still want to gain more weight, but seeing that improvement helped me realize I am in fact improving and not just staying in this permanent transition period of stagnation for the rest of my life as I've feared.

I'm kinder to myself. At least, I'm trying to do so. I've found that the reality of life is that it's infinitely easier to blame yourself for everything and rot in self loathing rather than take a step back to go "actually- that's not true" and find the strength to go forward while also being aware of what you can do to better yourself as a person, not just for others, but for your own sake at well.

That being said- not every day is meant for self-analysis and introspection. Some days it's okay to just cry and eat some fucking candy bars on the couch my friends.

I'm slowly finding the joy and energy to write again. It's been a hassle to do so- working a 9 to 5 while also going to the gym and then doing chores leaves very little time and energy for other passions- but I've found it's annoying but meaningful work to dedicate time for the little things that make you happy. I've started by promising myself to limit my screentime by not using my phone as much during the day- my lunch breaks at work are spent typing away on a little e-ink word processor I treated myself to instead of doom scrolling on my phone. I've written three short little stories on it, some of them fanfiction others are not- while also beginning a horror project that i've thought about for a year now and want to see where it will go in the end. It's nothing as grand at the 10k beautifully written fics you all create- but I'm finding my passion again and it feels quite nice. I'd like to create something submission worthy this summer, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

I'd like to set myself the goal of being able to afford an apartment next year. My family plans on moving cities within a year so it will give me time to save up more money and maybe even get back to making little things on the side to help earn some extra pocket cash for that dream while also paying off my student loans.

I'm not anywhere near the woman I thought i'd at 23 when I was 18 years old. I still live at home, I'm not using my major for my career, nor am I doing anything particularly astounding in my life. But I think that it's okay- and I'm proud of the progress I have made to get myself to this position.

Tomorrow I will spend my birthday at work. Then I will go for a walk (or perhaps a skate?) listen to some music, treat myself to a little sweet drink in my budget and then go see the challengers movies. Maybe with my friends, maybe by myself. I'm not sure yet. I will likely cry at some point during the day, I always do on my birthday.

But I know that I am growing. Even if Its hard to see.

[whatbigotspost]

A friend sent me this story and it’s a good time for me to ramble on for a sec about how fucked up it is for the exact people who are wreaking abusive control and violence against their LGBTQAI+ children and the community widely are positioning themselves as protectors and the queer community as abusers simply for existing in a way that says, “you can have a happy life exactly as you are.”

Content warning: descriptions of child abuse coming…Most garden variety adult survivors of child abuse like me can tell you that it’s really really often the adults who are screaming “I’m protecting you!!!!!” at kids who are actually the exact person we needed real protecting from. My dad’s version of “protection” quite frequently meant trying to control my every thought and movement while bludgeoning me with an endless onslaught of his interpretation of Christianity as the reason and justification.

His control and violence was excused because it was “for my own good.” He was just “doing his job to protect my soul” or what the fuck ever. I’ll never forget him explaining to my brother and I how we needed “the devil beat out of us” sometimes.

I am certain this is how people like MTG parent.

There’s another post out there floating around right now about how “save the children” has become a wildly effective dog whistle for conservative Christofascists and the like. It’s true and it makes me so fucking mad because what I really really needed growing up (and eventually found, thank god) were queer affirming spaces so I could breathe for a moment and stop hating myself.

I can’t even bring words to do justice to how important 2 particular adults were to me, welcoming me to hang out in homes that became safe havens for me and many other of my friends…places were everything was gay as fuck and I was safe TRULY SAFE. To suggest they were the problem? The groomers? It’s laughable to a degree I can’t do justice.

I wish there was a way we could take the reins of the “think of the children” thing away from Christofascists. It needs to mean “create spaces where kids can be 100% themselves” and YES that will mean lots of queerness because a fucking lot of us are queer. Sure people of all types can be abusers…positioning gay and trans adults as inherent “groomers” is the same old homo and transphobia as ever, repackaged using long debunked stereotypes and outright lies.

My dad was the real groomer in my life. He tried to to groom me to accept violence as a part of love. To become some theoretical man’s good little wife and servant for life. To hate myself so deeply that I’d turn into a broken person like him and have kids I also didn’t want and export my self-hatred to them and so on, forever. Thank god he failed but if people like MTG get their way, they will abuse so many more children who may not be lucky enough to survive it. It’s terrifying and THOSE KIDS deserve and need protecting from her.

[3point14a]

HAHAHHAHAHA IM SORRYYYYYYYY SHES STRAIGHTTTTTTTTTTTT but also you wont ever guess what i say every time i draw her

her being straight is FUNNY ENOUGH relevant to her story. and i think thats hilarious. token straight and she's gnc, hilarious

AGSHIAOHSGJojakljagh ok so like... ok so like robin info out of my chest BEFORE i get sent to no power hell again: RRRROBINNNN is 25!!!!! i have another finished thing with her here and she is best friends with vincent AKA Owynn's older brother. The reason her relationship with chica is so strained because she and chica both had the same passion. Robin used to LOVE designing and making clothes and dedicated all of her life to it. and then suddenly one day she just stopped enjoying it.

She stopped enjoying every single aspect of it, she got burnt out and bitter and resented that something that she once saw as her lifes purpose now felt so utterly awful and that she couldn't do anything to fix it at all. Chica!!! is still going strong!! And it feels awful to see someone be filled with so much passion just like she was, she's envious and she's bitter that chica gets to enjoy it while she spins a wheel to find out what to do with her life now that she has lost such a big part of it. Chica is still her sister and she loves her but MAN it feels horrible to see her enjoy something she lost. Something that she GOT from Robin. On the other side of the coin Chica is scared shitless to end up like robin, absolutely terrified of being similar and also burning out to hell and losing something so big to her, and that doesn't really help with the whole lack of closeness

Robin has a lot of shit in her noggin, lost her passion in life for seemingly no reason, her dad dying (yeah their dad is dead, hence chica being half siblings with eak haha me when i remarry), and gender but in a weird cis way She hates looking femenine and she hates her curves and her chest and absolutely everything about it so she went "ok so i must be trans. or gay. or something" and then she wasn't! and that fucks her up! because she feels like it's easier to explain how she feels about this stuff if she had a community to fall back into, but she's just a straight woman who feels like no man ever will ever want to get into a serious relationship with because she simply does not "look like one". And does not intend to revert back into looking like one. rip anyways another reason why they are sort of tense around eachother is because all of that made Robin very prone to just have a billion breakdowns and yell at chica sometimes

very low quality drawing but yeah your sibling going through ten million identity hoops and being emotionally unstable leaves a BIT of a lasting impression on you She's a lot happier now, she got to take her chest out, and cut her hair and draw a beard on herself and she likes how she feels! There's still shit on the back of her head going "you'll never get a job as a doctor and you'll never find love if you dont revert back to looking at least a little femenine" BUT SHES BIG TIME IGNORING THAT

uh really strong change of tone but here's some extra stupid fake tweets of her because i think she's silly, also she and vincent have opposite bangs and i think thats so silly ur grown adults what are you doing matching

loops divulged the secret playlist (/JOKE) so ill just put it here why not im a free man

[gleefullypolin]

Can we all just sit down and have a chat...

Like family dinner or some shit because seriously you all are being fucking mental.

Sorry this is long and I'm just ranting to myself. DNR

I didn't have social media until the start of the year for Bridgerton. Mostly because so much of the fandom is fucking mental. My only socials were for Captain swan and don't get me wrong, that place is a cesspool of shit too but come on guys...this is crazy shit for a romance show about a family.

On my last one, I got it...the fandoms hated each other because the ships cross pollinated. (you see what I did there) lol. Captain Swan hated Swan Queen, Swan Fire, everyone wanted to burn each other alive and nothing was happy. I know discourse.

But this is literally no reason at all. They are brothers and sisters with no incest. They aint out here fucking each other.

Now, what I do want to say is, I sit back quietly and watch but I also keep a lot of receipts. So seeing a lot of people talking like they are up on a high tower of purity is pretty funny, because I also watched the shit show that happened at the end of S2. Trust me, there is no high tower to be sitting on, when that tower had sniper guns and you were literally shooting at people from them.

Polin's for the most part are quiet. Their reddit is pretty peaceful. There is always something being talked about, a competition to be voted on, pretty art, a fun meme, interesting conversation to be had. It's not a hate fest. That was necessary because the main sub is a rotten piece of shit that cannot be navigated for the most part and is not safe for Polin's to be in.

If you have been there, you would know that every six days or so, someone will post the same tribe, "I didn't like S3 and can't get through all of it, please help me understand why" usually followed by a sentence that says "S2 is the best and I love X or I was so upset when Ben got shoved to the side" Again I have no idea why these posts are necessary. If you don't like something, don't watch it, don't ask us to help you figure out why you don't like it. But also, these posts aren't actually there for them to ask us anything, its simply there to boost the negativity around S3.

There is no need for this, but it continues to happen.

The anti blogs continue to spew stupidity toward Polin that doesn't even track with normalcy. If you are an adult with this type of blog, please go back to your job and re-evaluate your life. But you cannot be NOT part of scripting, casting, shondaland, bridgerton, and still have so much insight into the scripts, casting, shondaland, and bridgerton. Please be so for real and go to work.

The Kanophies have spent so many years torturing the Polins that it has become normal in this fandom. So normal that now anything that happens for S4, it is just expected that Polin world shut the fuck up and take their medicine and if anything outside of that happens, it is bad behavior on our part. I think the Polins have earned their voice.

S3 was SUCCESSFUL, let me say that for the dumbass idiots in the back who do not understand how things work and twist themselves into pretzels to try and misconstrue numbers, try and talk to you in facts that don't add up, make you feel like the world is upside down, or speak like this:

"Every season builds on the next and so it makes sense that each season is more popular as the next comes out so it only makes sense for S3 to see these numbers."

If that was the case, S2 would have done better than S1 and yet here we are. With that not being the case. Also if that was the case, shows would not get cancelled so often because viewership dies down as shows continue their seasons. Math doesnt math because they are simply wrong.

The things they are saying are only to help them feel better. Look I'm not wanting Bridgerton to be cancelled. I'm happy when all seasons do well. S1, S2, S3 are ALL on the Top 10 list. I'm incredibly proud of S3 and how well it did, mostly because those parts of our fandom OPENLY ROOTED FOR ITS FAILURE. They wanted it to flop, they prayed for it to flop, they told our leads out in the open they wanted them to do terribly and hoped they sucked. This is what we are dealing with, again, we have receipts....you are not on a high tower.

And yes, its not the whole fandom, these are sub sets of the fandom, I will give you that IF YOU WILL ALSO GIVE US THE SAME GRACE AND STOP BLAMING ALL POLINS FOR OURS!

But also, is it not odd.....completely that when something does go down....on the Polin side, its from an account that was created that day or from a week prior who is suddenly being incredibly racist or homophobic. OUT OF THE BLUE. We should all be wary of accounts like that and call them out.....WHICH POLINS do immediately.

Sadly, what I'm seeing coming from the other side, is from long time accounts calling Nic fat, trashing our side of our ship. Being rude to Luke. Just go read some comments on Netflix for any post on Bridgerton. S3, S4, doesn't matter, I dare you. It's not nice from our beloved fandom.

So spare me your lectures. Look at yourselves in the mirror. Stop telling me that I have to be nice. I'm done with this.

Yes, the video came out yesterday and some Polins made a comment about chemistry. And why did that happen?

BECAUSE THE FIRST THING A BENOPHIE ACCOUNT SAID WAS:

THANK GOD we finally have leads with chemistry again.

Isnt it good to have leads with chemistry again

THIS is what chemistry looks like instead of that fake stuff from before

Ok that is what bullying is. So we punched back. And I'm sorry, but sometimes you just get fucking tired of being talked shit to all the damn time. And yeah I didnt see chemistry either. I didnt respond to anyone about it, but you know what I'm not going to lecture anyone who did. And the ONE comment that stirred the pot was LITERALLY not directed to ANYONE and all it said was ERM. so spare me the clutching of the pearls.

I'm over being attacked and being called the bully.

Polin fanfic writers can't even write fic about Pen being friends with Anthony or a story with Kanthony without being bullied in their comments. They can't write a fic about Newton with being trolled in their comments and called racist or worst because they dared take a dog away from a POC. I wish I was making some of this stuff up that I have seen in comments. It is brutal out there and I have never seen it going the other way. I'm sorry, I have gone out and searched. It's always some account created brand new and faked. These are long time accounts commenting on people who wrote a nice fic and tagged a ship APPROPRIATELY.

So how about you sit down and enjoy your season and maybe, just maybe if you spent more time writing your own fics, speculating on your own season, enjoying your own leads and keeping S3 out of your mouths, you might spend less time worrying what Polin's are doing.

It's just so fucking tiring.

Sorry for the rant.

edit: I'm not just yelling at outside our fandom either. some of our own polin's need to cut shit out too. L/N are having to alter their own behavior cuz our side act like fucking freaks too. Stop stalking them. Luke's had to alter his SM profile or posts how many times because you guys are calling around to his hotels to ask about his GF. Would you all act like the adults you all actually are.

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

You’re (Probably) Wrong About J.K. Rowling

So despite being a British person and writer with an adopted trans daughter (sort of), I never weighed in on the matter when British writer J.K. Rowling allegedly said a bunch of transphobic stuff. The reason I didn’t weigh in publicly was very simply this: I couldn’t find the tweet or statement that started it all- the root cause of people’s hatred. Everybody alluded to The Terrible Things J.K. said but nobody was super keen to say what those things actually were. Which naturally led me to suspect that the whole thing was storm-in-a-teacup bullshit- a notion that I also partially derived from the fact that Rowling is kind of a milquetoast who probably hasn’t had a strong opinion in her comfortably middle-class life. If somebody online claimed I’d said something offensive, I’d believe them, because I basically start a knife-fight every time I open my gob. But J.K.? Do me a favour. Of course, I didn’t look very hard to find out what J.K. said, because the other reason I didn’t comment was that I didn’t care all that much. I’m a grown man. My contact with the Harry Potter universe is nostalgically rewatching the films once in awhile and maybe, at some point, playing the new RPG that’s just come out, should I ever have videogame money again. It’s not like I’m super invested in that world on an emotional level, because I only have the normal number of fucks to give about wizard children and the people who chronicle their adventures. So, my plan was to just never mention any of this. And then I stumbled on the comment that started it all by pure fucking chance and it was… so dull and inoffensive that it actually amazed me to the point where I medically had to say something. Yeah. I am literally incapable of shutting my fucking mouth when someone does a stoopid, as it turns out.

“Dress however you please. Call yourself whatever you like. Sleep with any consenting adult who’ll have you. Live your best life in peace and security. But force women out of their jobs for stating sex is real?” (I think the implication of the question mark s ‘er, no thanks’, basically). And that’s it. Nothing even implying that trans women aren’t real women. Nothing suggesting that they shouldn’t be treated with respect. SEVERAL opening sentences reaffirming the rights of everyone to live how and AS WHO they like… and then a gentle reminder that physical sex is real and that some people have actually lost their jobs for saying so, which sucks, because you shouldn’t be fired for stating a biological fact (unless the biological fact is that you just shat yourself and you choose to share it, loudly, at an important shareholders meeting). That’s the whole thing. I mean, there are some follow up tweets about how physical sex-based oppression is a real thing and about how J.K. feels a bit hurt by the trans activist community for turning on women-born-women when they try to address that oppression in the employment sphere. But that’s it. Now, maybe she said worse things later down the line- but these are the tweets that got everybody to dogpile onto her and anything after that point has to be viewed in the context of a harassed writer getting increasingly fed up explaining herself to people who won’t shut the fuck up on the internet when she’d probably rather be doing literally anything else.

So yeah. That’s what everyone’s got their knickers in a twist about. And that’s really dumb. In a world full of genuinely hateful bigots, attacking someone for pointing out that biological sex is a real, separate issue to gender identity and that arseholes have gotten people fired over saying that seems… well, it seems like a waste of energy more than anything else. There are people out there who haven’t actually encountered the source of this lunacy and have just taken the word of Internet Peeps that J.K. is an awful person (‘cause getting to the bottom of shit is difficult and what’s a person to do? Not just parrot the last opinion they saw fart its way across social media?).

Look, folks, folkettes, moustachioed three-titted hermaphrodites and people who identify as attack helicopters (shout out to all my homies at the Rotary Blade Club), there’s a lesson here. And that lesson is that you shouldn’t believe someone’s good or bad because someone on the internet tells you they are. People on the internet are just people, and people almost never have the faintest fucking idea what they’re talking about. There’s also a really, worryingly high proportion of internet ‘personalities’ (so called because they don’t have any in real life) who like to stir shit for the sake of stirring shit. Sometimes these people are easy to spot, because they’re bugfuck-crazy right-wingers in tinfoil hats claiming that everything in the media is a plot to destroy traditional family values (the same ‘traditional family values’ that caused women in the ‘50s to overdose on amphetamines to get the cleaning done and fathers to try and beat the gay out of their children). However, sometimes, the shit-stirrers are just a teeny, tiny bit smarter and will use the genuine disenfranchisement of a group to which they technically belong to cynically elicit sympathy for views that would be obvious bullshit if the person spouting them couldn’t claim to be oppressed. Rule of thumb: beware of anyone who wants you to believe that they have it tougher than the slave who had to clean the poop out of Abraham Lincoln’s chamber-pot hat (Fun “fact”: that’s why Honest Abe’s hat was so tall: he used it as an emergency latrine while travelling and it had to accommodate the prodigious length of his turds). Even if the person is right and they really do have it that tough, the fact that they’re prefacing what they’re about to say by EXPLAINING THAT TO YOU REALLY SLOWLY AND EMPHATICALLY should really be a red flag- a sign that they’re attempting to obfuscate the flimsiness of the actual point they’re about to queef out their face-hole. That’s not always the case (duh) but it should put you on your guard.

I can, and will, go further: I have never had opal fruit on me! Oh, hang on, that’s a line from A Bit of Fry and Laurie. What I meant to say was, I can, and will, go further: you really shouldn’t care to begin with if a creator has iffy opinions that in no way impact their work. You shouldn’t even care too much if they’ve actually done terrible shit. Because at the end of the day, the only part of them that’s relevant to you is the work they’ve created. T.S. Elliot was one of the greatest poets to have ever lived… but he was also a raving fascist. Lawrence Olivier was one of the greatest actors of his generations… but also a barely-functional alcoholic who delighted in fucking with his old Cambridge university in ways too baroque and specific to detail here. Frank Miller: amazing graphic novelist; protest-hater and all-round tosser. Don’t even get me started on all the shit Thompson and Bukowski got up to (though not together… I’d love to see that buddy movie, but it wouldn’t accurately reflect reality). There isn’t a composer in the whole world of prestigious, important classical music who wasn’t, on some deep level, a really fucked up person. Francis Bacon rates as one of the greatest artists ever to have been spat out by an uncaring world, but he also systematically ruined the lives of everyone around him, including himself. My point is that you can’t demand your art and media comes exclusively from good people… unless, of course, you’re comfortable exposing yourself to a pitifully small sliver of culture and starving your brain into grey fucking wallpaper paste. Trust me, if you have to seriously consider your options on that one, it’s alarmingly close already. Allow the personal and private failings of creators to be personal and private- even if the creator’s an egotist who keeps bringing it up in public. Accept that, for you, the work is what matters because YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO MEET THIS PERSON OR HAVE ANY IMPACT WHATSOEVER ON THEIR LIVES AND THEY ARE NEVER GOING TO MEET YOU OR HAVE ANY IMPACT ON YOU OUTSIDE THEIR WORK.

This has been a PSA from the Foundation of Terrible Bastards Making Good Art. As both a terrible person and a great writer, I now give you my permission to fuck off.

ADDITIONAL: Okay, so having posted this, I decided I was curious enough to check out JK Rowling’s twitter feed properly. And, to my amazement, I might have jumped the gun when I called her a milquetoast. She actually has some pretty strong opinions,,, but none of them seem to be about trans people in general. She had a go at Nicola Sturgeon for putting a PENIS-OWNING RAPIST OF WOMEN IN A WOMEN’S PRISON PURELY BECAUSE HE CLAIMED TO BE A WOMAN, but that’s not transphobia, is it? That’s an issue of protecting prisoners without penises from being raped by prisoners with penises. The whole ‘is Prisoner A trans or not’ issue is just obfuscation being used BY A RAPIST to get into a situation where they will have the opportunity to rape more people. While JK’s phrasing might leave something to be desired (if you’re the kind of person who needs every phrase to be padded to sooth your ego), “don’t let physically strong penis-owning rapists near vulnerable vagina-owners in an environment specifically designed to make escape impossible” shouldn’t be a controversial thing to say- and has less to do with trans rights than it does with just... common sense, I guess. Look, I’m neither a TERF nor a trans rights activist, though I know people who are both vulnerable women and people who are trans. I am the fucking Neutral Zone between the Federation and the Romulans here, but could we please all agree that miminising the risk of rape in prisons shouldn’t be controversial?

[thathomelessartist]

I am very tempted to use the last of my money to broadcast a roleplay ad to people.

Like IDK where else to look. I've tried forums and stuff, Reddit, random ass discords, I went crawling back to Amino even. I was scared to even try Twitter for fandom roleplay.

Everyone I have found is either:

A; A 12-15 year old who just joined the fandom and thinks they're hot shit. But are actually extremely annoying and far below my skill level (no hate but also leave me a l o n e)

B; A 12-15 year old who actually does really well, but is also a 12-15 year old when I'm 20 so that's. Not really an RP I can delve into too many mature themes (to be clear. Not even sexy themes. I just don't wanna expose a kid to my grown ass adult woman OC having a relapse as an alcoholic.)

C; Some creepy fuck who thinks RP is only sex.

D; Someone who's really good but replies maybe once every 2 months if you're lucky.

And I know there are good roleplayers out there. Like i SEE y'all talking about some awesome roleplays but when I go to their pages they're like 21+ or whatever.

And I get it, I really do. I know people younger than you can be annoying. But i am a year off!!! One year!!! Our life stages are not going to drastically change in a year and even if they do I have the skills-!!! Like FUCK man.

And I don't try to invade your spaces, I don't lie, but every server that's just 18+ is filled with creeps who only want sexual roleplay. And while I am inclined to some spicy posts now and again that is SO rare and I just want a good STORY.

You know what would solve this issue? Make everything good so you don't have to make it age restricted?

Auditions. Boom. That's literally it.

Make it 18+ and then ask simply for an example of the other person's writing. Maybe give the job to specifically one or two mods.

It solves the whole issue and I don't have to be left in fucking pURGATORY, where I am almost inclined to throw in the towel on literally one of my favorite hobbies ever. Because I can't fucking FIND ANYONE because now everybody's retreated to their little private discord servers where I'm not invited.

Which again is their prerogative and they can do that but also FUCK ME if it isn't frustrating.

Thank you for coming to my fucking ted talk, I hate it here.

[mywrittenavenue]

VENTING ABOUT JOB SEARCHING

It's so frustrating being neurodivergent and looking for a job after graduating. I keep putting out applications and I'm not getting much. I also applied for agencies but still nada. I'm also struggling so hard with the interviews that I'm barely even asked to go on, and I'm awkward as hell. It's as if I forget who I am suddenly when asked interview questions. I wish it was dumbed down instead of being complicated for no reason. I hate the interrogation, and the faces they make when I struggle to remember things and or stutter. To base a human existence after only a brief meeting is so dystopian. I feel like a cog, someone who doesn't matter in the scheme of things, as if I was factory made for the masses.

I also hate how interviewers expect you to know about their company in-depth. I don't have time to be researching every single company and acting like it's an exhaulted position I waited my entire life for, when really it's a means to an end. I get money, and you get a designer who is thorough about getting things done right. Also dont get me started on ghost/faux job listings and how people keep asking for 3-5 years for an entry level position. It's absolutely ridiculous, a real shitshow.

I don't lack skills as a designer neither. I'm a multidisciplinary designer and I believe my work speaks for itself. It's just frustrating that nobody is giving me a chance. I just keep getting ghosted or rejected. Ive been peer-pressured/grilled by HR for a job opportunity and they truly made me feel like trash. I once was even passive-aggressively verbally attacked by an interviewer who was trying to gaslight me about the fact they didnt supply me with files for a design test.

That's another thing... design tests. Why waste my time to ask me to make a design and then just reject me on the third round of interviewing? Shouldn't my portfolio speak for itself?? Stop asking me to do free work while I'm trying to job hunt, and potentially stealing ideas from myself and other designers who apply.

Also fuck cover letters. I write fairly well, but I can't be spending forever trying to write cover letters. I hate knowing that companies just throw resumes and cover letters into AI scanners that will pick up keywords from the job listing. None of what I wrote will be written and I have to rely on programs like ChatGPT to help me write everything because I simply don't have the time or patience (I tweak it with my flavor of course).

Jobs used to be about giving people a fair chance, to genuinely look at what they could offer. Now my degree is meaningless, I cant apply for internship positions anymore since a year passed after graduating, and a masters degree will put me in debt if I go for it. I feel so trapped and I'm just so frustrated that this is the hand that we've been dealt. Meanwhile boomers and older adults are all pointing fingers at us as if we're the issue and not companies becoming more and more corrupt.

I just want a job so I can make money and get out of my toxic home environment. Is that too much to ask for????

[marbles-for-breakfast]

Listen, as far as systems that didn’t choose to form go (which is all I can really speak on bc that’s me), the concept of being endogenic is all about what the system attributes its origin to. We can’t and probably never will be able to actually prove why our brains formed this way, so we might as well be able to choose to believe the narrative that makes the most sense to us as a system, right? I think a lot of endos that have childhood trauma simply believe they would have been this way regardless of it. That’s what feels the most true to them, and no one can really prove otherwise. You may think that’s a stupid or confusing distinction. Tbh, I don’t really get it either. But what's really wrong with that?

I suspect that I have some sort of childhood trauma. Possibly just from being a very sensitive autistic child, but possibly from other events I do not remember. (Speculating about what might have caused me to be like this was really bad for my mental health, if you would believe it.) But, because I do not remember any specific traumas (and because assuming that I was abused and just don’t remember it fucked me up real bad emotionally), I choose to not identify as traumagenic. It would flatly feel like a lie. But I also just think origin labels are a little pointless when it comes to systems that were not intentionally created. I'm not against other people using them, but I really think we focus too much on them a lot of the time. Like, WAY too much.

But ultimately, I think that if I never heard about the concept of endogenics, I would still be legitimately traumatizing myself with speculation about what could have possibly happened to me. I would still be looking at every adult in my life with suspicion. Because I would still think that I couldn't accept the reality of what I was experiencing until I found the last missing piece of the puzzle — the trauma. But knowing that some people don't attribute trauma as the sole cause of their plurality helped me step back and realize that I needed to meet myself where I was at instead of trying to fit into the box I thought I was supposed to. I'm not saying believing in endogenisis is necessary to come to this realization, but it was what brought me there. And that was a very important place for me to get to. I guess this is just an example of the positives that can come from not assuming trauma to be the only thing that can form systems.

I don't care if I end up attributing all this to some sort of hidden trauma later. I don't care if you think this is "blissful ignorance" and all plurality is caused by trauma. If some people need to believe this in order to get by, then exactly what problem do you have with that? Obviously, "the truth" is important, but people who mistakenly believe they have no serious childhood trauma usually do discover that truth when building connections within their system. We will not stay "blissfully ignorant" forever. But we might need to be that way now. Isn't that literally the reason you think we exist?

Idk, man. You seem somewhat reasonable, so I'm trying to get through to you. I don't know if I'm doing a good job though. I guess I don’t understand what your point here was? Like, I’m sure you’re not advocating for people like me to be confronted with all our trauma and forced to deal with that all of a sudden. But I honestly don’t know what your point is if it’s not that either. Idk. I just thought my experience as one of the people you seem to be talking to (even though I don’t really identify as endo) might be valuable or informative.

I do hate this discourse though. I’m still not fully sure why I engage with it so much. It’s probably the fact that I have an instinctual defensive reaction to people who don’t understand me. And I do feel like anti-endo posts are targeted at me bc I’m not definitively traumagenic. But since I’m also quite different from other endos (and very different from that idea of endos that most anti-endo people have in their mind) I feel a need to force people to acknowledge me. Fit me into your narratives. Where do I go? If you find that you don’t hate me, will you be more understanding of other endos? Will my expertly crafted arguments and unique experience finally make everyone understand? I guess I come here to feel seen. And then I feel invisible. After all, they couldn’t possibly be taking me into account. Because if they saw me and how smart and reasonable I am, they’d understand! The hatred would melt from them as they basked in the warm rays of nuance emanating from me.

Anyway, I guess that last weird paragraph is also an example of how many of us are actually very introspective. I wouldn’t have discovered I had OSDD if I wasn’t at least a little introspective, after all. (But seriously, you can ignore that part. It was really just me working through shit.)

"Endos" do you know why you're hated?

Because there are GROWN ADULTS who get put through horrific trauma and have no idea for years and years. Most people don't accurately remembers their childhood as it is. So what makes your lack of knowledge of any trauma despite being plural so fucking special?

If you insist it's a coincidence then "professionals" whose real profession is HARMING CHILDREN FOR PROFIT will use your testimony against victims everywhere.

Stay blissfully ignorant if you want but shut the fuck up about your lack of desire to understand your own mind. Make up all the words you want, it changes nothing. Plurality is a defense against trauma amd that defense is AMNESISA-BASED. THE AMNESIA IS INHERENT. IT'S HOW YOU'RE SEPARATE FROM YOURSELVES TO BEGIN WITH

So yeah starting to understand why the community is so obsessed with hating on you peoplw. Personally I feel bad for you; no one can ask you to explain or even remember your trauma to be "valid." The trauma is a given; stop preaching false hope to everyone in denial.

[lunar-fey]

vent or whatever.

when y. when you dont get to eat dinner bc youre broke bc youre disabled and cant hold a job and your parents buy your food but they dont believe in things like "digestive disorders" or "dietary needs" so they basically tell you to either eat something that will make you sick or not eat at all bc they cant go to 3 different places to pick up food and skerples already cant eat the food everyone else eats (autism). and then they get mad at YOU when youre like okay. guess i will not eat then. because they are like ogh youre just being mean because you hate me stip trying to be special and eat it even though it makes you sick like the rest of us >:( like SORRY id rather not eat at all than eat something that will make me throw up. (me and dad have had extended arguments over this. he truly cannot understand this concept and thinks that everyone should eat things that they hate or that make them sick because its food and no one should ever be allowed to like. customize their food or get something else))

they did get me like some potatoes but 1. its like. 3 bites worth (none of us knew it would be that small) and it also tastes awful (i really didnt want to get anything but again they got really pissed at me for saying i just wouldnt eat then (not even like. in a passive agressive way i was just like. uhhh well i think im too sick to eat any of this. itll be fine) and looked like they were gonna cry about me not getting food. like idk but if you care that much about me eating then maybe stop picking the same 2 fast food places that you KNOW and have known for years that i cant eat at. maybe then you wouldnt have to feel bad or whatever. or maybe the real issue is just that you WANT to feel wronged by me + a refusal to accept that people can be sick for their whole lives bc you have been sick for your whole life but refuse to accept it. mom literally cant work and is on ssi bc of her disabilities but also disabilities arent real and no on has them and everyone can just try hard enough to overcome their symptoms. except her of course, because shes your wife. but fuck those kids tho. no matter how old they get they are still too young to have any type of medical problem, because kids are immune to medical problems and adults can simply will them away.)

anyway this time it was taco bell but also just because i want to get this off my chest too im adding it. normally they get like burgers and i can only tolerate mcdonalds burgers and bk to an extent (as far as wjats availble here. i knos everyone hates mcd burgers but they dont upset my stomach like everything else. idk why. they dont taste like a burger but whatever they do taste like is good to me. mostly i think they just taste like salt) and the sheer RAGE dad flies into every SINGLE time he asks what i want and i say i want a cheeseburger with no mustard. he LOOSES HIS SHIT. EVERY SINGLE TIME HE YELLS AT ME FOR IT. im like sorry man but if its got mustard im not gonna eat it. its disgusting. i dont want you to waste money on food im not going to eat. and he gets SO MAD. he doesnt WANT to save money; he wants me to be the perfect little military brat he tried to raise me as who never speaks unless spoken to or asks questions and does as hes told and eats disgusting slop and vomits and says thank you sir. can i please have more sir. and it AINT ME.

anyway if you wanted to know why im bad at starting conversations and you read this far uh. now you know. the ability to speak to someone else first got beaten out of me its not even anxiety i get so scared of getting introuble for starting a conversation that i black out and forget every single interest ive ever had. BUT if someone else starts for me im okay <3

[clairecrive]

Hello beautiful person! Do you take requests which ask you to write a second chapter for your writings? If you do, may I ask a second chapter for "Rare"? And if you don't could you please let me know so I can be careful for another time when I ask a request?

I hope this is not something that disturbes or irritates you. I love your writing, it is beautiful and sometimes I read your pieces over and over again. 😁

Thanks for blessing us with your writing. Have a nice day.💕

A/n: First of all anon, thank you so very much for your sweet words! They mean the world to me <3 Also, your request could never irritate me! I love them and I love the fact that you consider me half a decent writer enough to send me your thoughts <3 I'm sorry it took me so long to get around this but I hope you like this and are still around to read it x

I've decided to pair it with a request for juicy time with Eddie. there's no actual smut but it's suggestive let's say.

Warnings: bit of angst, fluff,

Word count: 2.4K

Tags: @mollybegger-blog, @evelynshelby, @br0ck-eddie, @fandom--0verdose, @shadow-of-wonder, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @sopxhiea, @fuseburner, @for-bebbanburg, @crazyclownchick ( fill in this form to be added to my taglist)

Part 1

TOM HARDY MASTERLIST

You weren't exactly new to heartbreak. You had been a teenager after all but your experience with adult relationships had not been that good either.

You knew that you'd be over Eddie even if it may take you some time. It's true that you had only been dating for a few months but you had really grown attached to him. It was one of the things you hated about yourself: the way you got attached way too soon, way too much.

Especially, in this case, seeing as Eddie hadn't been 100% in it in the beginning you had hoped that the more time you'd spend together, he'd see that you weren't so bad and that he'd grow to care for you. At least a little bit.

Turns out you were wrong.

As much as you hated being wrong, the thing that hurt you the most was that despite your best efforts, Eddie still didn't think you were enough for him. And how could you be when the benchmark was perfect Anne?

You stood no chance. You had been a fool for even trying. And now you were experiencing the burn for your foolishness.

This had happened often enough that you had developed a routine for dealing with heartbreak:

1) crying your heart out and indulging your sadness with whatever helped (mostly comfort food and Friends)

2) enough with indulging, it was time to pick yourself up. No more overeating although you still allowed yourself to cry if you felt like it

3) "I don't need him anyway" phase where you'd make a mental list of how your life was before and after whoever you had broken up with to remind you that they weren't as important as you made them out to be

4)"put yourself out there again" phase where you started going out again with the intention of meeting new people or simply having a good time.

As of this time, you were in phase 3. You noticed that there were some of Eddie's things littering around your apartment. So, you picked up a box and collected them with the intention of returning them to him, effectively closing this chapter. As you did, you made that aforementioned list. This time, with the added reason for your break up, it was a bit easier to remind you why breaking up had been the right decision.

When your hands closed on your favourite hoodie of his though, you couldn't help the pang in your heart as a flood of memories hit you.

You and Eddie doing a Friends marathon every Friday night.

Eddie giving this hoodie when you were sick because he knew how much you liked it.

Eddie taking the hoodie off for a whole other reason almost ripping it...

No.

Shaking your head, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Enough of that. It was over.

It was only a week later that you finally got the time to come around Eddie's apartment. Sure, you could have called him, he could have come himself to pick them up or you could have dropped them at his job but that would have required you to call him. And recalling how that went last time you tried to reach him you decided you'd spare yourself the humiliation of him not ghosting you again.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders and knocked on his door.

"Y/n." You were met with a dishevelled Eddie.

He looked like shit but what's new with him. He also looked very surprised to see you at his door and you also couldn't blame it for that. You would have reacted the same way if the roles were reversed.

"Hi, Eddie," you hated your treacherous voice that wobbled when you spoke. Clearing your voice, you tried again.

"Sorry to come here unannounced. I've found some of your stuff in my apartment and I thought you'd like to have them back." You explained as you handed him the box, his eyes taking it in for the first time.

"Oh," he paused as he considered your words. Was that disappointment in his voice? "Thank you, y/n. You shouldn't have." He smiled weakly as he took the box from you, your fingers touching briefly.

"It's not a problem, Eddie. I was just passing by anyway." You and Eddie actually lived far from each other. The truth is that there was no reason for you to be in this part of town if it wasn't for him. Eddie knew that but he was kind enough not to point that out.

He just nodded, accepting your words as he held the box close to his chest.

You awkwardly stared at each other for a while, you didn't know what to say but neither of you wanted to end this exchange quite yet. When you felt that you had been standing like a fool in front of your ex's door, you went to leave but Eddie beat you to it.

"So how have you been?" Your first reaction was to scoff at this attempt of small talk. Neither of you was very good at it. And truthfully, it was rich coming from someone who had not made any effort to keep in contact with you even before your breakup.

The scroll of your shoulders was the only answer Eddie got. You weren't in the mood to pretend nor did you want him to know how you were still suffering for him.

"I should ask that to you." You reverted the question to him. He really didn't look well.

"yeah, it's been a rough couple of weeks," he confessed scratching the back of his head.

"That, I don't find it hard to believe," you hummed as your eyes took him in, really took him in since you knocked at his door. You could also see behind him that his apartment was a mess.

"Yeah, don't have to worry about me though. I'm fine."

"Of course." You nodded at his dismissal, remembering harshly the situation you were in."Well, I'm going to go now. Take care." Cold but still polite you turn around, ready to put this -Eddie and this exchange- behind you.

"Y/n, wait!" he called when you were about to climb down the staircase. "Do you want to have a drink or something?" Stay for a while? he meant but didn't dare to say.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Eddie." You called over your shoulder, hand still on the railing.

"Please, I owe you an explanation." You didn't know if it was the desperate note in his voice or the fact that he really looked like shit but you turned around almost convinced.

"Don't you think it's too late for that, Eddie?"

"Maybe it won't change anything between us but you deserve to know." You knew Eddie and you knew how much he cared about transparency and honesty. This may not mean that you were going to get back together but he was right, you deserved an explanation.

"Okay," you agreed as you walked back and then into his apartment. Eddie closed the door behind him and set the box he was still holding down behind the coat hanger.

The sneak peek you had before was definitely right: Eddie's apartment was even messier than usual.

"Why does it look like a tornado hit your home?" You couldnìt help but point out. You knew Eddie wasn't that bothered by tidiness but this too much even by his standards.

"That would be my fault," a new voice answered you.

At first, you didn't register the difference in tone or accent even though you should have had because Eddieìs voice wasnìt that low or raspy. But then a black tendril entered your vision field catching your attention making you turning your head to better inspect it.

What.the.fuck??

"Eddie?" You asked perplexed, eyes fixed on this thing? even if you were addressing Eddie.

"Y/n meet Venom, Venom meet y/n." He gestured awkwardly with his hands.

"It's so nice to meet you, Eddie's always thinking about you, you know? It's a bit annoying." this time the voice didn't come from a tendril but a face. A fucking alien face with long sharp teeth and wide white eyes.

His words went straight over your head. How the fuck was this true? What were you even seeing? Did this thing come from Eddie's body??

"Fuck, I know I'm heartbroken but now I'm even seeing things?"

"Y/n," Eddie tried to get your attention. You thought you had only thought that but apparently, you had spoken the words. "You're not seeing things, this is part of the explanation I owe you."

"I think it's better if you sit," he said motioning to his couch when you did nothing but stare at Venom. Prompting by Eddie though, you sat down and listened as he spoke.

He told you everything. About Carton Drake about his project with aliens, about Venom and their rather troubled relationship. He even explained how Anne had got involved and how she and Danny had helped him.

It was definitely a lot to take in. But somehow, the thought that he could be lying to you never crossed your mind. The proof was right in front of you, wasn't it? Venom, as he had introduced himself, stood next to Eddie while he spoke. It had never spoken again and you were inwardly thankful for that. That he was giving you space to digest all of this.

"Why didn't you tell me when you came around that day, Eddie?" You asked once you thought you had wrapped your head around it.

"I didn't want you to drag you into this mess," he said with a shrug, head cast down he didn't meet your eyes.

You didn't know how you felt about all of this yet but you nodded anyway. Well, there was nothing you could do anymore, could you? He had already taken care of everything on his own and it wasn't like you had any right to worry about him anymore.

"Thank you for explaining, Eddie. I appreciate your honesty." Did this change anything for you?

"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't enough of if Anne meant more to me than you did. That's not true but I didn't know how to tell you that without telling you what was happening." He nervously fiddled with his fingers without meeting your eyes.

You could see his point now that you knew what happened. Still, it hurt you that he decided to just keep you out of it without a word. He could have at least told you that something was going on, that he didn't or couldn't tell you anything - not right now. You would have understood and given him space. Did he really act like this to keep you safe or was it a way to dismiss you?

"I don't know if this changes things, Eddie. You still turned up to her when a major life-threatening event happened. I think this tells me everything that I need to know." You point out after a while, eyes fixed on the end of your shoes.

"She has been involved from the moment we broke up, Y/n. Hell, this was the reason we broke up in the first place." Eddie's head snapped up at your words. He looked surprised at your words like he couldn't believe that you thought Anne's involvement had been something he had actively sought out.

"That may as well be true, Eddie but still, you didn't tell me even after everything settled down. If I hadn't come around to give you your stuff I still would be none the wiser."

"I was afraid, y/n. How could I come back to you after how much I had hurt you? 'Sorry if I went m.i.a. for a while, I was infected with a parasite who knows permanently with me?' Come on, y/n, I wouldn't take me back either." Now upset, Eddie started to gesticulate frantically to prove his point. His eyes flickered between yours, he leaned toward you, his hands a touch away from yours as if he wanted to touch you but was preventing himself from doing so.

"I'm not saying I would have believed you straight away but still- aliens are way better than self-loathing you know?" You scoff at him- why was he so upset? He wasn't the one who had been beating himself up since that fight for being a worthless piece of shit, was he?

"I know I've never done a good job at showing you but I do care about you. Deeply." Almost as if he couldn't bear to not be touching you any longer, Eddie now reached for your hands. His hold on them tightening as he spoke the words.

You looked at him for a moment. Aside from that fight, your relationship with him had been good. The start wasn't promising, seeing as he was still taken by Anne but Eddie had treated you good. He was attentive and caring in his own way. Looking back to it now, you realized that the period where you started feeling him pulling back from you was the time when this whole alien thing had started.

But now you had settled this, right? So, could this mean...

"If I give you one more chance to show you," you spoke tentatively, enthralled by the twinkle in his eyes, "do you promise me to be fully transparent with me this time around?"

"What? Why would you do that?" He looked shocked but his eyes were hopeful.

"Are you trying to talk me out of it, Eddie?" You challenged him, arching an eyebrow.

"Like hell I am." He scoffed, a smile on his lips. "Nono, of course I do. I swear, y/n. You'll never feel like you don't matter to me again."

"Good." You gave him a small smile at the gobsmacked expression on his face. Oh, Eddie...

He does nothing but stares at you for a while. Like he hadn't seen you in a while and now that you were in front of him, he wanted to commit to his memory every little detail of your face.

"So," you said after a while, "do you plan to stare at me or would you like to get a head start on your promise?" you provoke him with a suggestive tone.

Eddie's mouth fell a little at that, Venom said something to him but you didn't understand him. Shaking his head, Eddie smirks at you.

"I would like nothing more." And with that, Eddie's lips are on yours making up for the lost time.

[northwest-cryptid]

I really think people need to take this one to heart.

I understand that for many this is a joke, but it's also just a very real thing to do as an adult who actually cares about themself.

Listen I have spent entirely too long devoting myself to appeasing others, without any compensation.

You might be quick to say "Cryptid that's not how it works, you shouldn't expect anything in exchange for what you do!" To which I need to reply simply,

Why not?

Is it wrong to think I should care for myself? When I'm starving and can't put food on the table? When I can't afford the rent, the bills, or even my own car?

I'm literally having to sell my car.

Is it wrong to wish that people cared as much for me as I put effort into caring about them?

"well it just seems a little selfish you know..."

Or

"you could just get a job"

Or

"that's not my fault you're disabled and suffering, why should I have to suffer?"

Why, because you want more free personalized entertainment?

How? I'm literally too disabled to even stand for more than 5 minutes or drive. I can hardly breathe these days and who's even hiring? And what, are you going to demand I somehow spend what little time I have left after work creating more free personalized content?

What? If you consider it suffering for me to have to take my life back into my own hands rather than continue to make constant free fucking content I don't know what to say.

I've heard a lot of this shit before, look I've been streaming now under my most recent alias for 3 years and do you know how much money I've made? $390. That's it. That's not even a third of my rent, that doesn't even touch on food, rent, bills; I'm constantly having to beg for donations I do not get, I'm having to constantly rely on my partner to cover my expenses, I'm constantly suffering from health complications I can't afford to get help for.

I can't even get on disability because I don't have the money for it, ironic I know.

I don't even enjoy it anymore, I just feel sheer anxiety every time I go live, I hate it I hate it so fucking much. If I stream I hardly ever get to really talk about what I want to talk about, people make weird requests of me or trigger my existential dread (you know because apparently it's funny to bully streamers???) or talk about shit that scares off any potential sponsorships. If I don't stream people call me out for not even posting to my personal Tumblr.

I'm losing my fucking mind.

Tell me why I feel like a fucking monkey being told to dance for the amusement of others.

I'm no court jester, at least they were paid for being made a fool of.

I feel like I have no privacy, I don't get to act of my own volition anymore I'm just acting because I fear the consequences of not acting.

That's literally how I felt when I was in my abusive relationship. I'm scared to talk about it, I'm scared to do anything about it, I'm scared to take a step away and do what I want, for me.

Stop holding me to some kind of contract, stop expecting shit from me, stop asking anything of me, why do I owe anyone anything?!

I get it, people don't have to pay me, and I don't have to create fucking content either. I look at my friends who are making money at this and I desperately try to figure out what I'm doing wrong.

But the truth is I already know, I'm just scared to do/say anything.

But you know what, fuck that I'm nearly 30 and I need to put my foot down a little.

I want to have time to spend with my friends, it's hell not having the time or energy to even reply to my friends who are making an effort to reach out, they deserve better.

It's hell to feel like I'm dragging a corpse of my former interest around because I fear what will happen if I don't.

It's hell to exhaust myself with stress every day over the thoughts of others.

It's hell to fear even posting this. I don't want comments on this I just want to be able to vent 3 years of frustration before I have to go out there and deliver the news, probably tomorrow.

I'm tired of not being taken seriously.

From my gender identity to even the fact I got into all of this Vtuber shit because I thought I might be able to spread some awareness of Native matters and Lakota deity figures but lol no. Maybe I'd be able to distance myself a little better and just be a character and still have a private life, that didn't work out.

I'm just so fucking tired man, not even my close friends take me seriously as a streamer.

It's clear to me that my content isn't engaging enough to make it, and even my audience members have told me they don't like big streamers so like cool, how am I supposed to take that? You don't want me to succeed?

I've literally had sponsors tell me they're not comfortable with me repping their products because of shit that's been said on my stream chat.

At one point I was literally asked why the hell a chat member openly admitted to being a minor despite the fact my streams are marked as intended for mature audiences for sexual and explicit discussions and vocabulary. I didn't know what to even say because "oh that's just one of my regulars" doesn't exactly sound any better if you think I'm an adult streamer.

This is despite the fact that my streams hardly if ever include sexual discussions or depiction outside of literally shit being said in the twitch chat. Sometimes I'll vocally make a cheeky lewd joke but that's literally why it says 18+ at the fucking door!

But I totally understand why an adult company wouldn't want me repping their products on my streams if my audience includes minors openly admitting their minors. Despite the fact the stream I'd have been doing for them would have been entirely safe for work.

I'm actually really salty about that because it would have let me do a really silly challenge speedrun and educate people about adult entertainment products which is something I've wanted to do for a long time. Plus you know, pretty majorly I'd have been paid for it!

I have made so many fucking sacrifices just to appease an audience who cannot or will not give back on the investment in ways that I actually need in order to survive.

And yes, I do mean SURVIVE.

this was a last ditch effort for me, this was meant to be a hobby and now it's gone to shit.

Even now I can't get away from my streaming life, I can't take a break, I can't live my own damn life anymore.

So I'm channeling the mantra of if it sucks, hit da bricks.

It's time for me to focus on me, to be excited about my life and my future and what I want for once.

The future is looking good if I'm willing and able to put effort into the things that matter for my survival and future happiness.

You have no idea how upsetting it is to me that I'm scared to even actually post this shit.

Mood of the fucking month right here fellas!

[writingtoforgetreality]

New World Order - TFATWS Rewrite Chapter One (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist], [TFATWS Rewrite-Masterlist]

Next Chapter

Summary: You were an Avenger. That was how the world viewed you. Nobody else knew about your past & it was for the better. After all, you had Sam. You had Bucky. That had to be enough. At least for now.

Words: 6,214

Warnings: language, sarcasm, expect some sort of slow burn, there are hints already, this is a Bucky fic, which means that it'll focus on his scenes more, spoilers for TFATWS, (Y/E/C) = your eye color

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

You were no superhero. At least, you would never say you were one. Your past was filled with actions you regretted. None of it was your fault. It was not your decision to be the child of the leader of a HYDRA base. It was not your decision to grow up like a warrior. Fighting. Killing.

Your father was the bad guy. You knew that now. As a child, you did not see through his facade. How could you? He was your dad. Someone who was supposed to love you endlessly. Those years had shaped you. Into the person you were today.

Deep down, you wished there was a way to make you forget. Forget about your past. Forget about the pain. Forget about it all. Hell, you were a laboratory experiment. Those powers did not come from nowhere. No. They came from tons of needles, pumping a toxic serum into you veins. You should not even be alive anymore. Not by what now flowed through your body. Apparently, it was for your own good. That was how your dad put it. Absolute bullshit. Growing up isolated from the world, being trained to fight, to kill, daily. Your own good my ass. If it did one thing, then it ruined your damn life.

But at least you had powers, right? Blue flames you could control. Those blue flames that were hotter than anything else in this world. It took an awful lot of time to fully have control. Truthfully, you hated that part of you with every fiber of your being. It had been the cause of one too many deaths. You had been the cause. But weakness was not in your nature. If you did not show strength you would be a disappointment. Something you really did not want to be.

Bucky was the reason you got out of this life. He was the one to rescue you out of this hell hole. He was the one to show you an entirely different part of this world. And for that, you could never thank him enough. If it were not for Bucky, you would have gone insane ages ago. Who knew if you were still here today?

The Avengers were aware of your past. Of you being a part of HYDRA back in the days. Yet, you had never elaborated this any further. If there was one thing you were good at, it was keeping things to yourself. No need to burden others with your struggles. And you did struggle. Every single day. Because your mind was filled with memories. Memories you had tried to burn. Memories you wanted to erase. Memories of you being the bad guy. Just like your dad had been.

Your life changed when you were introduced to the Avengers. They did not trust you. Not right away. But during the fight with Thanos, the one after the Blip, you proved yourself to be worthy of their trust. Especially Steve. He had been there for you. When everyone else failed to believe in you. He was gone now. And it hurt like hell. Giving up was never an option. And the universe did not plan on giving you a break anytime soon. For now, you had to bury your feelings as deep as possible. Your focus should solely be on the new threats of this world. Threats, that seemed to increase daily.

“Bucky is an asshole.” you were on the phone with Sam & the fact that the super soldier had been ignoring him for a while did not leave a good feeling inside his chest.

“What a revelation.” sarcastic comments were part of your life. It was your way of coping with everything. Frankly, it worked. More or less. “Give him some time.”

“More time? No.” sighing loudly. “I have other things to focus on.” he was referring to the mission he was about to perform.

“You sure you’ll be fine on your own?” it was not like you did not believe in his abilities. Just, life had not been the same ever since billions of people came back.

“When have I ever not been?” you could think of a few times but Sam ended the call before you even had the chance to answer. Typical.

Luckily, Sam usually told you about his missions. And you were proud of him. You really were. The situation you found yourself in? With Bucky & him? Well, it was everything but good. Bucky called you. You called Sam. Sam called you. You called Bucky. A circle you kept alive. And it sucked to be their only way of communication. For now, though, both of them were too stubborn to change anything about it.

“Enjoying the Tunisian sun I hope?” whenever Sam went on a mission, you had him call you after it. Simply because he knew you worried.

“You know it.” in the far background you could hear him working on something.

“Is everyone alright? That trainee of yours? What’s his name again?”

“Torres.” he sighed, frustrated by your question. You had asked him about a million times & apparently, you still had no clue. Truth was, you just liked messing with him. “Redwing is hurt.”

“Naaaw, poor baby.” giggling slightly. That man cared more for a piece of tech than he should.

“Shut up.” okay, better not mess with Wilson if it came to Redwing. Got it.

“When are you coming back?” your voice turned serious again. Having him gone for so long did not stick right with you. Obviously, you knew he was doing it for the greater good. But still. “I swear to all the Gods, if you say when we’re done here…” mumbling quietly but loud enough for him to hear.

“When we’re finished here.” a chuckle could be heard from his side. By the way it sounded, you assumed Torres was laughing as well. Rolling your eyes at his antics. He could be such a child sometimes.

“Oh, fuck off, Wilson.”

“Hey, language!” Sam had fun. Yeah, you were the one cracking jokes all of the time but he could deliver, too.

“Okay, you know what? Bye. Text me when you’re back.” now, it was you who did not give him enough time to respond. After all, he would have clapped back with another snarky remark & you were not in the mood for it. At all.

“Steve represented the best in all of us. Courageous, righteous, hopeful. And he mastered posing stoically.” everyone chuckled at Sam’s description. Of him. Steve. Rhodey was standing right next to you. In that suit of his. The one that made him look way more approachable than you. No need for people to approach you. They did not know who you were before. And they sure as hell did not need to. It would turn things complicated. Humans did not like complicated. You did not like it. “The world has been forever changed. A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after five years away, sending the world into turmoil. We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we’re in. Symbols are nothing without the women & men that give them meaning. And this thing…” he paused briefly, let out a short chuckle. The shield. “I don’t know if there’s ever been a greater symbol. But it’s more about the man who propped it up, & he’s gone. So, today we honor Steve’s legacy. But also, we look to the future. So, thank you, Captain America. But this belongs to you.” the crowd erupted into cheers. Applause was filling the room & you felt out of place. What was he doing? When Sam asked you to join him here today, he left out the fact that he wanted to give away the shield. The shield Steve had trusted him enough to own. And the people surrounding you? They…celebrated him for it? This entire speech was proof enough that Wilson was worthy of this job. So why the hell did he make that decision? Watching the shield being put into the showcase, you could hardly hold in the tears that formed at the corners of your (Y/E/C) eyes. Rhodey nudged you, sensing that something was wrong. Head hanging low, you ignored him, walking out of the room as fast as possible. If you stayed here any longer, Sam would have bruises for sure. Bruises caused by you. You would not risk that. Though, he kind of deserved it.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Sam asked Rhodey when he finished with the press. You had told him you would wait here for him. There was no sign of you.

“Left a while ago.”

“What do you mean “Left a while ago.”? Did she say where she was heading?” why did you decide to leave? Had anything happened while he held his speech? All Rhodey could do was shrug. An explanation was not given by you. And he knew better than to ask.

“Take a walk?” Rhodey suggested, completely unaware to your weird behavior. The two of you were not that close. So he did not know you like Sam did. You were an adult, after all. If you wanted to go somewhere without asking someone first, then you were allowed to do that.

Disappointment was flooding through your body. Friends told each other stuff like that, right? So why did he keep it a secret that he planned on giving away the shield. With that action, he broke Steve’s trust & you were livid. If only Steve were here right now. You missed him. So much. Next time Sam met you, you could not promise anything. Because anger was all you felt. Anger & disappointment. Grief. But that one you could keep to yourself. At least for the time being. Shit. Bucky. One hundred percent did he watch Sam giving away the shield. Oh, he would be filled with hatred. Compared to that, you were only a small threat. Bucky was the one Wilson should keep an eye on. Well, he had been trying to get a hold of him. So far, without luck.

A gunshot blasting woke Bucky up from another night invaded by nightmares. His changed hair did not put his demons at bay. His look was different but there were some things he could never get rid of. His past. The past he dreaded as much as you did. Probably what you two had in common. Being part of HYDRA & all. His breathing was irregular & there was no way in hell he could go back to sleep. It was in the middle of the night & he hated himself for relying on someone else. But he would go insane if he did not call another person right now. If he did not call you. The only one who seemed to understand what he was going through. The only one who never judged him because of his nightmares. The only one who made him feel like he was a good person. Not the killer he once had been. When HYDRA controlled him. Back, when he was called “The Winter Soldier”. Would he ever move on from that? Grabbing his old phone, he did not overthink too long & dialed your number. One, he knew by heart. Because he had called you so many times. It stuck in his head.

“Buck? Is everything alright?” concern was present in your voice. Usually, when you got a call in the middle of the night, it was him. And you were fine with it. If he trusted you enough to help him with his demons, than you were more than happy to come to his aid. No matter the time.

“I-I…it’s just, ugh, I-“ still shaken up from his nightmare, you did not need him to finish his sentence. You had been in this exact situation so many times. You knew what he needed. Your presence. Your voice. Your comfort. You.

“I’ll be there in a few.” assuring him, you were already grabbing the stuff you needed & walked out of your apartment. Only one destination in mind. Him. “Do you need me to stay on the phone?” it was a simple question. A stupid one, too. Usually, he would not say a word until you were with him. But it felt right to ask him what he wanted you to do. Needed you to do. When he did not answer for a few moments, you guessed he only nodded, not realizing that you could not see his motions. Yet, he did not hang up. Neither did you. Your breathing was enough for him. At least until you were in his apartment.

Knocking softly, as to not wake his neighbors, the door opened almost immediately after. Squeaking ever so slightly. Taking in his appearance, you could tell that it had been a bad nightmare. No, not a nightmare. A memory. You knew that because it was the reason you woke up most nights as well. If it were not for him feeling miserable, you would have drooled by the sight of him. No shirt. Hair sticking around so beautifully. Eyes you could lose yourself in. But it was not the right timing. Besides, Bucky & you were just friends. That was it. Just friends. Though, you would lie if you said that you did not feel butterflies whenever he shot you one of his charming smiles. Whenever his body brushed against yours on accident. Yes, he did have that effect on you. Hell, that was not what he needed right now. Your feelings could be dealt with later on. Bucky was all who mattered now. There was no conversation. No words exchanged. It was enough for him if you were with him. A sign that he was not alone. That he still had you. Even after everything. Even after calling you, night after night, disturbing your own rest. Not that you got much to begin with but he did not need to know that. It had always been a mystery to him. Why you stuck around still. Though you had assured him thousands of times that you were in this for good. If he needed you, you were only one call away. And he appreciated you for it. More than he would ever like to admit. Friends. You were friends.

“So, Mr. Barnes, are you still having nightmares?” another session with Dr. Raynor. Another dreaded session. It was stupid to Bucky. But there was no way out of this. He had to. Seconds of silence went by before she spoke up again. “James, I asked you a question. Are you still having nightmares?” what kind of question was that? A stupid one. That was for sure.

“No.” simple, short. Sufficient. Not for his doctor, though.

“We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell when you’re lying. Well, you seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?”

“No.” what an answer to move this session forward. Clearly, he was not in the mood to talk today. Not even you were able to get his mind off of things. Though, you definitely made his night easier.

“You’re a civilian now. With your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna…” her hand motioned stabbing. Awful action but who were you to judge? Bucky nodded with that look on his face that showed how completely done he was with this situation. Yet, she kept going. “It’s a condition of your pardon. So, tell me about your most recent nightmare.”

“I didn’t have a nightmare.” well, it was worth a try. After taking a deep breath, she grabbed the pencil, ready to start writing into that notebook of hers again. “Oh, come on. Really? You’re gonna do the notebook thing? Why? It’s passive aggressive.” looked like the two of them were going back to the roots.

“You don’t talk. I write.” Bucky sighed at that. He knew he would not get out of this.

“Okay. Okay. I crossed a name off the list of my amends yesterday. Don’t worry. I used all your three rules. Senator Atwood. She was a HYDRA pawn for years. Helped her get into office when I was the Winter Soldier. And after HYDRA disbanded, she continued to abuse the power I gave her.”

“So, rule number one, you can’t do anything illegal.”

“All I did was give some intel to the aide to convict her. And I wasn’t involved in anything else.”

“Rule number two?”

“What was rule number two?” his gaze drifting off, showing he thought about it deeply. How ironic.

“Nobody gets hurt. It’s a big one.”

“Then why isn’t it rule number one?” he did have a point there. No room left for arguing about that. “I didn’t hurt anybody. I promise.”

“And what about rule number three?” Bucky’s mouth opened, yet, nothing came out. “The whole point of making amends is to fulfil rule number three.”

“You know, you’re a cynic, Doc. Of course, I completed rule number three. I am James Bucky Barnes & you’re part of my efforts to make amends.” words followed by that smile of his. That smile everyone could tell was fake. Almost creepy. But efforts, right? It was all about the efforts.

“So, you did it all right, but it didn’t help with the nightmares.”

“Well, like I said, I didn’t have any.” Bucky Barnes, everyone. Still trying to fool his doctor.

“Look, one day, you’re gonna have to open up & understand that some people really do want to help you & that they can be trusted. People like (Y/N).” the mention of your name made his eyes snap up.

“I trust more people than her.” it sounded more like he tried to convince himself more than anyone else.

“Yeah? Give me your phone.” an order. Grabbing it out of his pocket to hand it over. A short look was enough. “You don’t have ten phone numbers on this thing. Oh, & you’ve been ignoring the texts from Sam. Look, you gotta nurture friendships. I am the only person you have called all week. That is so sad…Oh, that’s not right. You called (Y/N) last night. Anything you wanna tell me about that?” closing the flip phone, she threw it over to Bucky which he caught with ease.

“What? Do I need to justify calling a friend?” chuckling & shaking his head slightly, he brushed his hands over his thighs.

“If you call that friend at 3 am, then yes. Because you should sleep at that time. Except if you had a nightmare which you claimed that you didn’t.”

“We just talked. That’s all.” he thought that brushing it off as if it were nothing was enough to get her to shut up. Hell, he had brought you up during his sessions way too many times. After all, he still wanted the situation between you guys to be subtle.

“You’re alone.”

“A minute ago, you said I had (Y/N).” he tried arguing but his attempts failed.

“You’re a hundred years old. You have no history, no family…” right, pouring salt in the wounds. That usually worked.

“Are you lashing out at me, Doc? Because that’s really unprofessional, you know? When did that start? Yelling at your clients?” she seemed to have enough & again went for the little book next to her. “Oh, the notebook. That’s great.” sighing deeply, he braced himself to take her more seriously. “All right, give me a break. I’m trying, okay? This isn’t…This is new for me. I didn’t have a moment to deal with anything, you know? I had a little…calm in Wakanda. And other than that, I just went from one fight to another for 90 years.”

“So, now that you’ve stopped fighting, what do you want?” he had an answer in mind right away. Never ever would he say it out loud. It took him a second to reply. Because what he was about to say came in union with his first thought.

“Peace.”

“That is utter bullshit.” what a nice way to bad talk his answer. Maybe she was expecting something else from him. Maybe she knew the answer just as much as he did. The real answer.

“You’re a terrible shrink.”

“I was an excellent soldier, so I saw a lot of dead bodies, & I know how that can shut you down. And if you are alone…”

“Which I’m not because I have (Y/N).”

“…that is the quietest, most personal hell. And, James, it is very hard to escape. Look, I know that you have been through a lot, but you’ve got your mind back, you are being pardoned. I mean, these are good things. You’re free.”

“To do what?”

Wednesday. Bucky usually went to Izzy. Today, he asked you to join him & Yori. Why he wanted you there with them? No clue. But it was not often he asked you to go somewhere with him so you agreed on meeting them there.

“Take a look.” Yori was a cute, old man. Reading his newspaper like a good citizen. Bucky had yet to give you an explanation as to why you were here right now. But for now, you just sat next to him, quietly observing your surroundings. “Nobody made it past 90 this week.” it was funny, to see Bucky trying his hardest to sound interested. Like he understood.

“So young. Such a shame.” his words made you scoff. Apparently, once you hit the 100 mark, you turn into a sarcastic piece. If you were not one before. If you ever made it to 100? Only the Gods knew what would come after that. Most people called you a sarcastic asshole now. Could that be topped?

“You guys didn’t order the usual, huh? Feeling a little adventurous?” the woman behind the counter directed her words at the three of you.

“Um, actually, I’ve never been here before, so…” you chuckled to avoid the awkwardness that would sure as hell build if you kept quiet now.

“You should ask her out.” Yori leaned over to Bucky & you almost choked on your food at his words. Bucky asking her out? Her? Yeah, she was beautiful & all. But her? Really? Seemed like that Yori dude did not know Bucky as well as he claimed to. You, on the other hand, were aware that nothing good would come out if it. Besides, they would not even make a nice couple. Shit, were you jealous? Oh no. Glancing over at the man next to you, his face showed just how much he despised this idea. At least something.

“Mm-mmm…” shaking his head frantically, he shot you a quick look but before his eyes locked onto yours, your gaze fell down to your plate. Slightly embarrassed. Scared that, if he looked at you, he would notice something behind your look. Something more. Something, that you wanted to keep hidden. For everyone’s sake.

“He would like to take you out on a date.” oh fuck off, Yori. You had nothing against this man but he was pushing your buttons. Could he not see that Bucky was incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of going on a date? With her? “Maybe to bingo or a night of pinochle.” hiding your laugh behind one of your hands, you could not believe that he was serious. Bucky & bingo? Well, it was for old people so you guessed it fit quite well. Not with her, though. Oh no, you really were jealous.

“I’m really sorry about him.” Bucky apologized for his friend’s behavior. Yes, you were sorry for him, too.

“Why are you sorry?” of course, now the woman was flirting with him. It got better & better. Taking a deep breath, you tried to keep your emotions at bay. You could not lash out in the middle of this restaurant, after all. Even though you were this close to doing just that. Deep breaths, you got this. “I’m game.” sure she was.

“Wow.” really? Bucky was impressed? By this? Oh come on, why would he settle for less when he could have so, so much more. But it was not your decision. He was not yours. You did not own him. Neither did you make the decisions for him.

“Tomorrow night, then?” Yori leaned over the counter.

“Tomorrow night’s great.” she replied with a bright smile.

“Hey, I just remembered something.” you spoke up all of a sudden. Bucky’s eyes met yours now & he saw that you were uncomfortable. Though, he could not pinpoint why. “Um, I-I need to go. See you, Buck. Bye guys.” sprinting out of the restaurant, you hoped nobody would follow you. Not in the mood to deal with anyone right now. All you wanted was to be alone right now. Your mind the only one keeping you company. But your mind was not really the kindest to you. Not in this particular moment. So what? Bucky had a date. You knew that would happen sooner or later. He was a good looking man. More importantly, you just wanted him to be happy. Genuinely happy.

Fucking great. Who could you talk to? You still were not done being mad at Sam. And now you were mad at Bucky for something he did not even do. He sort of did. He could have said no. If he really did not want to, he could have said no. Bucky was enough of a man to speak his mind, you knew that. Maybe he did want to go on a date with her. What was her name again? Not that you cared too much. But still. Blinking away the tears that had formed at the corners of your eyes, you kept on walking. Without a real destination. You were stupid. Friends. Why could you not accept this? Usually, you would call Steve in such a situation. Or even Tony. But it was too late now. They were not here anymore. You had to deal with that sooner or later. Whether you liked it or not. Contemplating calling Sam, you eyed your phone carefully. One more button. But nope. The anger was bigger than the need to talk to someone. Stubborn you. Wilson could make you feel better. But you would most likely end up yelling at him. And you knew you would regret your words later on. So might as well stay silent for the time being. Until you calmed down enough.

It was 10 pm. Date time for Bucky. That same restaurant. Being the gentleman that we was, he even brought her flowers. Like it used to be back in the 40s.

“Well, if that’s not the most adorably old-fashioned thing anyone’s ever done.” Bucky felt lost. In her company. “Grab a seat, I’ll be done in a few.”

“Okay.” he could up & leave. It would not be too late. All he knew was that it felt wrong.

“So, have you dated much since half the fish in the sea came back?”

“Not really. I, um…tried the whole online dating thing. (Y/N), the girl who was here with me yesterday, she set up a profile for me because I didn’t understand a single thing.” laughing at the memory, he thought back to when he called you to ask you for a favor. How you laughed at him for wanting to try this whole bullshit. “It’s pretty crazy. A lot of weird pictures.”

“What kind of weird?”

“I mean, tiger photos? Half the time I don’t even know what I’m looking at. It’s…It’s a lot. When I showed (Y/N), she simply said that this was what I signed up for.”

“You sound like my dad.” definitely something a man did not want to hear while on a date. On the other hand, he did not even want this to be a date. “Wait. How old are you?

“A hundred & six.” only he could make it sound so casually. Like it was the most normal thing on this planet. Both laughed at his words. Simply because it was so absurd.

“What’s up with your big gloves?” a sensitive topic she just touched.

“I, um, have, uh…poor circulation.” sure thing.

“Hmm…Hey, what is it about this (Y/N) girl & you?” his eyes widened at her question. What was she getting at?

“She’s my friend. Why?” his dumbfounded expression made her chuckle.

“A friend, huh?”

“Um, yeah.”

“You sure about that?” an eyebrow raised. A questioning stare was sent his way.

“Why does everyone think I don’t have friends?” throwing his head back in frustration, he let out a long sigh.

“It’s not that.” she stopped briefly, thinking about her next words carefully. “Just, you guys seem pretty close.”

“Well, we’ve known each other for years.” he reasoned, gesturing with his hands to bring his point across.

“Yeah? And the looks you’re shooting each other when the other one’s not looking?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You two aren’t really subtle about this, you know?” she wiped the counter & did not even look at Bucky. He, on the other hand, started sweating.

“Subtle about what?”

“Oh, come on. Who are you kidding? I don’t even know why you’re here right now.”

“Because Yori set you & me up on a date.”

“And why did you agree?” she crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for an explanation from the man in front of her.

“I-I don’t know.” he responded truthfully. Because he thought it to be polite? Because Yori was the one who suggested it? Honestly, he was not sure.

“That’s what I thought. Look, you’re a nice guy & all but…just, listen to your heart from time to time. It’s late. You should head out. See you.” she turned around & walked further into the restaurant. Leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts. It was clear what she intended. Did not mean that it made this entire situation any easier. Bucky left without another word. Fresh air would help him think straight.

Your phone rang & you sighed when you checked who decided to annoy you. Bucky. Of course. But wait. Should he not be on his date right now? Did something go wrong? Not that you wanted it to but if you were entirely honest, you would not be mad about it either.

“Hi Buck. What’s up?”

“I need your help with something.” there was no hesitation in his voice. Just him being straight forward.

“Please don’t tell me you need help on how to get the girl.” it was your way to lighten the mood. You did that because you could tell that he was incredibly serious. Usually, this was never a good sign.

“Can I send you an address? Can you meet me there as soon as possible?” his voice was low, deep.

“Um, sure thing. But just to set things clear…I won’t join in on your fun, Buck. That’s between you & her.” again, sarcasm was your way of coping with emotions. Though, it was not the right time to use it right now. His next words were proof enough. You should not mess with him. Not in this moment.

“Can you be serious for a second?” he raised his voice a little. It was not much but it was enough to leave you confused. Bucky was not the person to yell at you. Especially not like this.

“I’m sorry…Um, yeah, tell me where & I’ll get there as fast as I can.” gulping down, you waited for him to give you more information.

Arriving at an unfamiliar building, you could make out Bucky’s form in front of it. Why would he want to meet you here? Where was his date?

“Buck?” your voice barely above a whisper. The night sky only illuminated by the moon that shone brightly. Providing just a tiny bit of light. Enough, to let you notice your surroundings.

“Thanks for coming.” you could tell that he was stressed, tough, you were not sure why.

“Is everything alright? Because I swear, if that woman did anyth-“

“No, she didn’t. Promise.” his warm smile was encouraging enough. It was clear that he was not lying to you. “Just…didn’t work out. But that’s not why you’re here.”

“Okay?”

“My last nightmare. Do you remember?” nodding for him to continue. “How I killed that innocent man?”

“It wasn’t you, Buck. You were being controlled.” touching his shoulder softly, squeezing it to reassure him.

“Whatever…That guy, it was Yori’s son. I want to, need to, apologize. Even though the apology comes way too late.” you nodded at him, your eyes meeting his briefly. Now you knew why he called you. He did not want to do this alone. No. He wanted you by his side. To support him through it. Entering the building together, Bucky led you to the apartment Yori lived in. His hand raised to knock on the door. Surprisingly, he did not waste any time. He wanted to get this over with. Understandingly so. No words were exchanged. You being here, with him, that was more than enough.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Yori opened the door, his face showed confusion by the appearance of you two. “How was the date?” you could not help but roll your eyes at the old man in front of you. Looking at Bucky, you were worried when you saw him having an internal conversation with himself. Mouth opening & closing again. No words coming out. Risking a look inside the apartment, you noticed a small picture frame with who you assumed to be his son. The one Bucky killed. No. The one the Winter Soldier killed.

“It was…It was good.” Bucky mumbled.

“Bullshit.” you followed after. None of them heard you, though. Luckily.

“Forgot I owed you for lunch.” Bucky handed him money. If you were not mistaken, this was not a form of apologizing. He had a hard time, though, that much was obvious. Afterwards, Bucky turned around & walked away without another word. Which left you alone with a confused looking Yori.

“I’m sorry for the disturbance, sir. Have a good night.” plastering on the sweetest smile you could offer, you followed Bucky outside. Jogging to keep up with the super soldier.

Back outside, you saw Bucky holding his little notebook in his hands. You knew about it. Because you were the only person he talked to when it came to his therapy sessions. A look over his shoulder could tell that his eyes were trained on the name being circled. His body was tense. That was not what he planned.

“It’s okay, Bucky.” your hand stroked over his lower back in a comforting way. Your forehead rested against his shoulder, hoping, that it would ease him a little. You could feel him calm down at your touch. “Give yourself some time.” you mumbled quietly, knowing he could hear you clearly due to the calm night. You just hoped that he would not beat himself up too much. Not more than he already did.

You were back in your own apartment. Still no words from Sam. But that was nothing new. Sometimes, he would go radio silent for a few days but after that, he would always check in with you. Maybe he figured that you were mad at him. For giving away the shield & all. And he probably was busy with work. The work he did with Torres. If he needed your help, he would call you for sure. Your TV got your attention again. Something told you to watch closely. So you did.

“Unrest, in the wake of recent events, has left us vulnerable. Every day Americans feel it. While we love heroes who put their lives on the line to defend Earth, we also need a hero to defend this country. We need a real person who embodies America’s greatest values. We need someone to inspire us again, someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So, on behalf of the Department of Defense & our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero. Join me in welcoming your new Captain America.” the crowd cheered loudly & someone walked through the door. You could not believe what was happening. Please, this had to be a bad dream. When would you wake up form this hell? A man, wearing his suit, holding his shield, greeted the people. Looking at your hands, you could see small, blue sparks forming at the tips of your fingers. That only ever happened when you had no control over your emotions. Right now, you were everything but in control. Of course he had to wink at the camera like the sick person he was.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” breathing out lowly, you put your head into your hands, completely ignoring the sparks there. You did not feel them anyway. If you ever met this son of a bitch it would not end well for him. And the next time you would meet Wilson? Fingers crossed he could deal with your angry & disappointed self. Because you were seething.

~to be continued~

Next Chapter

Published (04/02/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @taina-eny​, @tanyaherondale​, @cool-ultra-nerd​, @toribentleyva, @buckyandlokirunmylife​, @annadier​, @howlongtillidie​, @mizz-kraziii, @theetherealbloom​, @millenniumloki​, @marvelbros-oneshots​, @ajbwasnthere, @bilesxbilinskixlahey​, @mystictimetravelcolor​, @dbrees256​, @sxpxrnxturxl, @dreamydreamerwriting​, @dolllstyles​, @angelicastiel​, @prettysbliss, @infinitelyforgotten​, @sweetserendipity65​, @lilystilinskicullen​, @partypoisonsblog, @btdsprayberry, @sarai-ibn-la-ahad​, @deamus-liv​, @simplybarnes​, @sethcohenluvr (let me know if you wanna be tagged <3)

[whump-town]

Was Hotch Abused?

I offer you my 2,300+ worded thoughts on the matter with episodes included. There's going to be lots and lots of talk about abuse so you're going to want to steer clear of that if that's something you're not cool with but for those of you interested... I give you all the proof I could think of:

Natural Born Killer.

In the eighth episode of the first season, “Natural Born Killer”, we meet Vincent Perrotta. His father was abusive but from the outside looking in, no one knew a thing. Perrotta started drinking at fourteen and committed petty crimes, as well as assault, for pleasure. Going as far as to kill his own father not too long after. But Perrotta is a monster and a psychopath so it’s clear we’re not supposed to sympathize which makes his interaction with Hotch so peculiar.

Hotch is our “Captain America”. A true neutral with an infinity for doing what’s right so it’s inconceivable to compare him to Perrotta and yet Hotch gives us some rather conflicting lines to dissect.

Before Gideon hands the interview over to Hotch, he spends a moment talking with the others out in the bullpen. The whole time he’s leaned back and he’s watching Morgan and Hotch. Now, at this point, we don’t know about the sexual abuse Derek Morgan faced at the hands of Carl Buford but there’s something about the way that Gideon spends the entirety of the conversation only looking at the two of them. Waiting for them to put together what he clearly already has and when Hotch does…

Hotch jumps straight into Perrotta’s profile, asking: “You grew up in a house that looked normal and happy, didn’t you Vincent?”, “But your father beat you every chance he got”

Perrotta excuses it with a shrug, “he smacked me around some, didn’t everybody’s old man?”

Abuse is a complicated thing and, often, abused children just don’t know what their parents are doing to them is abuse. It can be a subtle and outright thing but there’s an element of normalcy to it. The parent’s abuse is as habitual, as minimal as biting your nails to the child. Adults often can’t identify their parent’s past abuse.

With Hotch you learn that his lack of expression is often as telling as his expressions and as Hotch looks back at Perrotta, there’s something so sad about his eyes. His voice goes from loud, assertive to his whispered answer to Perrotta’s question. “No.” As if, well, maybe that’s a question he’d raised once too.

Perrotta doesn’t care about that though and he taunts “well, maybe if yours had you would have learned to fight”. But is it not more telling that Hotch didn’t make a sound? Perrotta got in several hits and the only sound Hotch made was when the wind was literally punched out of him. Not even when Gideon called to him and at that point, Perrotta did not the garrote around Hotch’s throat. That’s another thing mentioned before in the profile and something Hotch mentions to Perrotta directly. You learn to take the beatings, smile even. So, it’s just a little odd how little Hotch responded…

But that’s all nothing, you can take that how you want

Which leads us to the fateful, not everyone comment.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent. When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers"

That can’t mean NOTHING, there’s so much there but there’s something about Hotch’s subtle wording. The way he’s unconsciously slipped himself in there (a very real thing that people do) and he hasn’t even realized it. Doesn’t even know he’s done it until Perrotta pushes and he pauses, asks what Perrotta means. And the subtly of it, the way he doesn’t even mean to that says more than anything else.

“And some people grow up to catch them.”

It’s a super-specific comment to make. He can’t possibly be talking about Derek because he doesn’t even know about Carl Buford yet not to mention saying that about him would be incredibly rude if he were talking about Reid (and again, he doesn’t know about Reid’s childhood yet). So… that really only leaves him because JJ, Garcia, and Elle were not abused.

“P911”

In season two, episode two “P911” the team is hunting down a man trying to sell a young boy, Peter, on the black market. Kevin Rose is an underage boy “selling” himself on the internet while his abusive father has been in prison. I’ll let you just guess who it is that leads the team on finding out more about Kevin.

Your guess is more than likely right-- Morgan and Hotch. Now, we know about Morgan but come on. Nothing to say about it being Hotch who makes the emotional appeal?

The camera even follows his gaze, he’s crouched down (to appear non-threatening because he’s so close) and we watch his eyes take in the scars on Kevin’s chest. You can also note that while Gideon remarks that Kevin’s father was “always drunk, you never knew why he was hurting you, why he was so angry” both Kevin and Hotch look away from him.

AND FUCKING TRY AND TELL ME THE “some grow up to catch them” LINE WAS NOTHING TRY BECAUSE GUESS WHAT GIDEON SAYS? NO, NO GUESS--

Gideon: “At night you’d cry yourself to sleep hoping someone would come and save you”

And it’s HOTCH, HOTCH IS THE ONE TO SAY: “You have the chance to be the one who saves someone, Kevin. You can be the one who answers him, the one who stops his pain.”

PARALLELS PEOPLE THE PARALLELS

“Profiler, Profiled”

I bet you weren’t expecting this one, huh? But there’s something about people who faced trauma that makes it so perceptible to other traumatized people-- they sniff it out like coke to a drug hound. And, just guess, who it is that spends the majority of his time fighting with Morgan? Who knows (like I said about the bloodhound) immediately there is something Morgan’s hiding.

Hotch is angry, he’s upset that Morgan would hide anything. Mumbling about there being “larger implications” and how the team can’t have secrets. With the knowledge of exactly what that secret is it makes Gideon’s eye roll a little telling. Because it’s like they both know but neither will say. Driven home by Gideon turning the attention to Hotch, asking “would you want us profiling you?”

And again Hotch is the one to leap onto the abuse. The one to put the pieces together. Hotch’s anger makes no sense. He says he’s angry that Derek’s keeping a secret but the team has many, way too many. Over the years the team unwraps all kinds of secrets, he’s never angry then. So, it’s not about the implication of a secret at all. It’s what the secret is, like misplaced anger. Anger with himself may be leftover from his own abuse. But still…

Hotch lets Morgan escape. Knows exactly who and what Carl Buford is but all he tells the team is that “he won’t even speak about him”. He always knows how to find the abuse… like I said, a bloodhound.

George Foyet

I know you’re going to find this so fucking surprising but guess who also was abused? George Foyet was beaten by his biological father and his mother didn’t save him so he hates women (bleh, men are disgusting what’s knew).

Now, blah, blah, blah Hannah, I know you’re not about to say Foyet and Hotch are a lot alike-- no of course not. Don’t be silly. What I’m going to say is that they’re foil characters? They accent one another in an opposites sort of way. Foyet is a manipulative narcissist who doesn’t work well with others. Hotch is a guilt-ridden team leader who can’t let The Reaper’s case go. There are meant to be comparisons drawn between them. A good villain does that. George Foyet shows us that Hotch is not at all this removed, cool guy that we’ve previously assumed him to be. He cries in an alley because he blames himself when The Reaper kills a busload of people.

We see he has a rather compulsive nature. He never let The Reaper case go and has very personal ties in this case. Not even after Foyet attacks him, if anything it’s worse. He brings the case file home.

But it’s certainly interesting to see yet another “villain” with that same tragic abusive father and submissive mother come into play with Hotch. We’re nearing a point where it’s getting hard to call it coincidence (and according to David Rossi, there simply is not such thing).

Haunted.

In the second episode of the fifth season, “Haunted”, Hotch voice’s over a Dickinson quote: “One need not be a chamber to be haunted, One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing. Material place.” These quotes are often cheesy, if not a little cliché, but given the premise of this episode is in exploring the ways in which a man’s traumatic childhood has left him now grappling for a truth he can not define… well, maybe we can say the writers were onto something here.

Darrin Call, debatably the Unsub of “Haunted”, was abused by an alcoholic father. We see several signs of it throughout the episode-- Darrin’s delayed speech & severe neglect that leaves Darrin in dirty, hole-riddled clothing. If what we see is not enough, the reports that the team is given on Darrin explicitly state that he was extremely physically abused. It is this abuse that leads to the PTSD that he’s diagnosed with.

As sad and disheartening as Darrin Call’s life is, overall it’s the sort of episode that is forgotten over time. When it’s placed right after the episode that viewers have to watch Hotch say goodbye to Haley and Jack then, who is Darrin Call when compared to the agony of watching Hotch show genuine weakness? After watching Hotch lay in a hospital bed, tears in his eyes wondering if his son will remember him? His fears become our own and after watching George Foyet disarm and mutilate the one guy we’ve been led to believe for five seasons is infallibly, unflinchingly never going to break… well, Darrin Call has it bad but our focus is elsewhere.

It’s on Hotch, right?

The guy who is coming back to the job after only a month (and a day) off to recover. Who Morgan worries might have PTSD but he knows they can’t easily measure because Hotch wrote the questionnaire, he knows all the right answers. Who we see has had new locks installed since the attack and has Foyet’s file sitting open on a table for easy access. Who hears Darrin Call’s life (worked the same job without promotion for years before getting fired, no wife, no kids, a hermit) and bluntly asks why Darrin hasn’t just killed himself.

And let’s just take a moment to break down that comment. Hotch, who in the episode previously lost his wife and child, wants to know why a man who is steadily starting to sound a lot like him hasn’t just killed himself.

And I don’t say “sounds a lot like him” lightly.

Darrin Call has PTSD. Hotch, more than likely, has PTSD

Here are some signs just from that episode: hostility (he yelled at Garcia over something very small), self-destructive behavior (he ran into Darrin Call’s father’s house without a vest, back-up, or telling the other’s what he was doing), and guilt (blamed himself for missing the eye twitching Darrin exhibited because of his years of antipsychotic use)

Darrin Call was abused… this marks the second HEAVILY implied time that Hotch has been compared to another man abused by his father

Vincent Perrotta was the first with that hard to forget the exchange

George Foyet and his notably exactly the same past as Perrotta

“Haunted” feels like it’s supposed to prove to the audience that Hotch is losing it. He distances himself from Morgan, leaving every room that Morgan is in. He doesn’t pick up Garcia’s calls after Darrin Call attacks his therapist. The only glimpse we see of the old Hotch is with Emily, pulled to the side, but his guilt burns and he even brushes her off. Shaking his head and turning his back to her because somehow he should have seen something no one else did.

Throw in Reid’s comment about Call “victims are often drawn to the scene of their first trauma” and we’re painfully reminded of Hotch’s apartment. A place you’d think he’d want to escape but didn’t. The man was stabbed nine times in his own apartment and stayed in that same place. Almost sounds like that statement could be applied to Hotch too.

A dash of Hotch’s own comment about where Call would go to in his confusion and he says “to what he knows”, even the importance of how that orphanage is “where he became Darrin Call”. Where does Hotch go? What does Hotch know? The job.

So… we tally now three total Unsubs that Hotch has this direct relationship with. Three Unsubs with abusive fathers and mothers who couldn’t protect them. Hmm… coincidence?

Brothers Hotchner

Supervisor Special Agent Hotchner is a master of hiding, that is undeniable. It’s hard to see anything behind those furrowed brows and impersonal suits and that’s likely for a reason. However, anyone with a little sibling can tell you that no one on this Earth can and will annoy the ever-loving shit out of you like a sibling.

But that’s not really important. Sean and Hotch don’t talk about their parents. At all. Ever.

Hotch says that when Sean was in the first grade he got sent off to boarding school. “I was the screw-up making bad choices”. Interesting enough of a statement to make but you throw in the rough ages of Sean and Hotch at that time and it’s a little more than just “interesting”. You have Hotch at roughly 14-15 getting into trouble just like Morgan did at that same age (coincidence???).

(now you can certainly look at Hotch’s parentification vs. Sean’s immaturity doubled with substance abuse problems but we’d be stretching. “The Tribe” touches on the parentification but Sean just calls it “the big brother” thing and tells Hotch that he’s not Sean’s father and it’s fine it’s whatever. Hotch is a bit pushy. That’s not new. Substance abuse can just be a problem, it doesn’t have to be bc they were abused but again… a little coincidental)

So... was Aaron Hotchner abused as a child? I certainly think so

[emiko-matsui]

hello this is my official list of what i think every member of the bau would work with if they wouldn't work at the bau like if that wasn't a reality you get me

——

Jason Gideon: look i know this is technically canon but i truly do think he would be an author and would guest lecture a bit in his later years and like sure he could still write true crime books but also just regular crime novels i think this old man would just like to write

Jennifer "JJ" Jareau: i think she would work inside of the media, not in front of the camera necessarily but as a communicator or similarly inside of the media and the news. however i think there's a possibility of a divergence of path for her, i think its possible she could end up in a hostage situation due to her job in a similar situation like in neon terror and would start working out as a coping mechanism and like genuinely would pick up a (extra?) job as a personal trainer at her gym

Derek Morgan: firefighter. that's it i don't know what to say other than that, derek would 500% be a firefighter. there's nothing else. now that i think about it derek should've been a firefighter from the beginning fuck the bau this is his true calling don't even @ me

Elle Greenaway: similarly to JJ i think elle would work inside of the media but as an investigative journalist. well i think she would start out as a regular journalist but become an investigative journalist after a while because her drive would be too big you get me. also niche but i think that when she was a teen she was like briefly a singer like you know robin from how i met your mother but she would've made angry girl music

Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner: genuinely don't think this punk could stay away from the government so i think he would still work a fancy government job just not inside of the bau, maybe not even the fbi but i so think he'd still be in government. now what i have no idea because i know nothing about the government especially the american government seeing as im not even remotely american

David "Dave" Rossi: now i don't even know if this fucking counts but you know those really fancy shops that are like made of dark smelling wood and is called something extravagant with a cursive gold font and they sell like cigar or wine or herbal products or like mustache wax or whatever the fuck you know the places im talking about. i think rossi would work there and be that old man at the counter who will come up and talk to you and you have no idea if he just works there and is really invested in this stuff or if he owns the place or just a really weird costumer but then he's the one you pay too so you assume it's his but the moment you step out of the store you've forgotten his face and you never want to go back there but you always think about it once a month or something. if you don't know what kinda place im talking about consider yourself lucky

Penelope Garcia: if the bau wasn't even a prospect here there's no question that penelope would still be a hacker illegally and make most of her money from there but i also think that she would work in a small second hand shop with lots of old trinkets and clothes and stuff just because she genuinely thinks it's fun to work there and also the old woman who owns the shop lets her be on the computer when there's no costumers in the store. i just think she would sit there in her cupcake dress next to a ceramic old cat from the 1930s talking to bernice about her grandson while hacking jeff bezos on her computer

Spencer Reid: now it's time for spencer all over the place reid who i think would work at like one of those really prestige but still public libraries where like everyone is welcome but they have like locked rooms with super valuable books and stuff and he kinda does whatever there bc sometimes he gives tours talking about thr history of the building and stuff and sometimes you find him at the counter ready to guide you to the specific book you're looking for plus twenty other recommendations you should read if you like this book and sometimes you find him in a window reading and his coworkers politely ignore he's had his "break" for three hours now bc he guided 17 tours yesterday (only ten were scheduled) and they suspect he mightve slept here. plus in his spare time i think he would do some independent work to keep him stimulated with stuff but that's not a fully developed idea yet

Stephen Walker: this might be controversial but i think stephen would be a guidance counsellor at like a school and i don't know why but he has the vibe and i think he would be quite good at it. maybe he just gives me more official jawbone vibes from dimension 20

Emily Prentiss: i firmly believe this woman cannot hold down a job for her life. i think the bau and interpol were flukes in her reality because im quite certain emily would physically not be able to keep one job for longer than a year. if you mention a job she's probably done it. she's done everything from high positions in government to bagging groceries to leading seminars to breeding puppies. listen emily prentiss is a lesbian ex goth trust fund kid (like canonically yall). i think right now she's working with the lights for a theatre production and she's liking it and seems to have a knack for it

Tara Lewis: this one's out there but i think she would work as a principal at a university (do universities have principals?). but like the one who's in charge of a school but like advanced studies with like adults study after they've already studied if you know what i mean. idk i just think that's what she would be

Luke Alvez: hate to do this to luke but he would simply just be a cop. or like a detective (that's like a promotion for a cop in america right? bro my knowledge extends to brooklyn 99 and brooklyn 99 only). i hope this is because i feel like luke is the serious crime version of jake peralta and jake is the sitcom version of luke. anyway, cop

Matt Simmons: this is my magnum opus but bro i think he would be a podcaster. i think he would do a podcast with kristy. for everyone who follows my blog think justin and sydnee mcelroy but matt is sydnee. i think they would have a little podcast together. after his unit at the fbi (?) got got by linda barnes i think he would retire home and start doing podcasting full time with kristy. this is my hot take

Kate Callahan: because such a central part of kate's personality/backstory is that her sister died in 9/11 i think that kate would've been a nurse. specifically a nurse not a doctor and i don't think it's because a lack of competence or anything like that fuck u no i genuinely think kate wanted to be a nurse and chose to study to become that. her hours would still be crazy but maybe meg isn't as worried about her now

Ashley Seaver: i don't have a lot for seaver but i think she would work in local government more centralised like those guys from parks and rec and yes i realise ive made way too many references that some people might not understand but here we are. i think seaver would do whatever leslie does in parks and rec or something like that

Alex Blake: this is just a formality to have her on here because she's literally a linguistics professor in the show