#while buffy is going through one of the lowest lows of her life

[forcebookish]

GOD the scoobies are so shitty for turning JOYCE INVITING THEM TO DINNER into a loud party with a band like who the fuck does that

and they're complaining about buffy being "selfish"? please

[ettadunham]

A Buffy rewatch 4x06 Wild At Heart

aka well that fucking hurt

Welcome to this dailyish text post series where I will rewatch an episode of Buffy and go on an impromptu rant about it for an hour. Is it about one hyperspecific thing or twenty observations? 10 or 3k words? You don’t know! I don’t know!!! In this house we don’t know things.

And I had plans on how to talk about today’s episode, but now that I actually watched it that’s all out of the window. I’m just a mess.

There’s a lot about Wild At Heart that lends itself to a rant. Seth Green’s departure and how that supposedly threw off earlier plans for the season. The real life context we can bring into this episode, knowing what we now know about Whedon’s personal life. And then there’s my own personal identification with Oz as a character.

The truth is, none of that seems to matter right now. This ended up being a much tougher episode to get through than I expected, and I’m not sure how to deal with that.

And for the record, this is not a Billy situation where my unease comes from the violence (and specifically the violence against women). Wild At Heart is unnerving for the rollercoaster it puts our beloved characters through, where we see them at some of their highest highs and lowest lows.

Oz and Willow are put through the ringer here, and we learn a lot about their characters through the actions they take under those circumstances. And some of that is ain’t pretty.

I talked about this previously, but I used to - and still, to a degree - identify with Oz’s character a lot... And a specific trait of his that I latched onto was his inability to ask for help. Because then he would have to acknowledge and deal with his own shit, and that’s just not an option.

Instead he ignores and rationalizes his own desires. He separates himself from the wolf, and explains away his actions to lock himself away with Veruca on the full moon as an act of protection. Even though both Veruca and Willow point out later the flimsiness of that excuse later on.

And it’s tough seeing Oz like this. His wolfness sort of represents the Buffy theme of every man being a beast, even those who seem the kindest... But to me, especially in this specific episode, it’s more about repression and what happens when we ignore and avoid parts of ourselves.

Oz cheating on Willow feels less like an inevitable outcome of his desires (which I feared the episode would point to) and more the result of him refusing to admit to himself what was happening. Instead he let that desire twist into shame and anger in him, until it took him over completely. Much like the wolf.

And the wolf is dangerous and scary, and in the context of the supernatural, one understands why Oz would want to lock it up and keep it in chains. But ultimately, that’s arguably what’ll lead to him becoming the killer he’s so afraid of.

Because whether Oz likes it or not, the wolf is part of him. But Oz is not the wolf, and we are not our worst selves either - at least, that’s not all who we are. At some point, we need to recognize that we are both the best and worst version of the people we can be, accept and understand the things we’ve done in the past, and move on with the knowledge gained.

I guess by the end, Oz does acknowledge the wolf in him, but he also chooses to run away from that realization, and all the people who know him. All of him. And if his next appearance is any indication, he won’t learn his lessons for a long time.

Compared to Oz, Willow has much more self-awareness. She understands her own jealousy when it flares up, and is actively trying to both acknowledge and rise above it. We can see this even in the scene where Buffy reveals that she received higher grades from Professor Walsh, and Willow consciously navigates her feelings from jealousy to pride for her friend.

She does have more trouble with her jealousy when it comes to Veruca though, simply because she doesn’t know how to talk it through with Oz... Which is kind of fair, given that Oz refuses to deal with that situation too, but at least Willow does try to ask for help from her friends. I actually really like the scene she and Xander share, and Xander even gives great advice. “Talk with Oz.”

But as much self-awareness as Willow may have about some of her biases and fears, she has her own inner darkness that she’s yet to understand. Willow feels things deeply, and she deals with pain and abandonment especially poorly. We’ll see this pattern more clearly in season 6, but while Buffy internalizes most of her trauma and is self-destructive when it comes to her pain, Willow tends to externalize and even lash out with it.

Case in point, she’s literally seconds away from hexing Oz to pieces here. It’s scary and disturbing, and yet at the same time, I can also feel her pain and understand how she’d be pushed to this point.

When she tells Veruca that she doesn’t know what she has in her, I feel that as an audience member. And not just because I know everything that’s to come.

(“To keep what’s yours, sometimes you have to kill” - Yikes, you really have no idea what bear you’re poking there, Veruca, huh.)

God bless Buffy though. Her checking on Willow before going out there to look for Veruca is true love. She turns back from the door at least three separate times, to make sure that Willow wouldn’t hurt herself and to let her know that she loves her.

My heart. It’s in pieces.

Oh, and of course this is the episode where Willow first mentions the Wicca club she joined. Their meeting coincides with Oz’s wolf time too, because those two worlds can’t collide.

On this show, you can either be a witch or a werewolf. Those are the only two sexualities.

Now let me be sad for a little while longer.

[jennycalendar]

missing (6/6)

“do you know why we might be connected in this way?”

“maybe it’s one of those yearning-for-each-other-across-time-and-space things,” said jenny. “very doctor who.”

this chapter: jenny makes her choice.

It felt surreal and strange to be back. Almost dreamlike. This Buffy didn’t have the same hard, angry edges as the Buffy Jenny knew, and she smiled a little sadly when Jenny came into the library. “You guys getting started with trying to fix the portal?” she asked.

“We’re—spending the day together,” said Rupert, hand resting on Jenny’s shoulder. “We’ll resume researching tonight.”

Buffy hesitated, then said, “Ms. Calendar, if this doesn’t work out, I hope you know that there’s always a place for you here. With us.”

Jenny thought about all the times she’d taken the easy way out. Kept her mouth shut about Angelus. Waited for everything to fix itself. Staying here, acting like there was no way to fix what had happened, letting herself be happy no matter what the eventual cost would be for the people she loved—that never ended well. Not for anyone. “I know,” she said. “But there’s a place that needs me, and I need to be there if they’ll have me.”

There was a new kind of respect in Buffy’s eyes. “Wow,” she said finally.

“I think she kind of expected you to give in and stay after you finally slept with Giles,” Xander added helpfully from the table.

“Xander!” said Buffy reprovingly.

“So you’re telling me that it was all platonic cuddling last night between Giles and Ms. Calendar?” said Xander knowingly.

“Please don’t,” said Rupert in a resigned sort of way.

Jenny laughed, but it hurt a little. She’d missed things like this. “So,” she said, resting her head briefly on Rupert’s shoulder, “what’s the plan for today?”

“I’ll mostly be around the library,” said Rupert, but his voice was very subtly flirtatious. “Standard procedure, I expect.”

“Are you...expecting any students?” Jenny asked casually.

“I have class,” said Buffy in a high voice. “You guys—have fun with your—whatever it is that you’re doing. Just please don’t tell me what it is.” She grabbed Xander’s arm, pulling him with her.

Jenny turned to Rupert, and he kissed her. She wanted to make some kind of joke about the fact that this was all they’d been doing since she returned, but she was too busy kissing him back, so she decided to file that concept away for later.

Rupert was the one to pull back. “There are so many things I want to tell you,” he said softly. “I—missed you so much.”

Jenny smiled a little sadly. Every piece of her wanted to stay with him. “So tell me,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him gently to the library table.

Rupert followed, sitting down in one of the chairs. Jenny pulled herself up onto the table, sitting in front of him with his hands in hers. “Well,” he said. “I managed to avoid having to direct the talent show this year.”

“Really,” said Jenny, and kissed him, just because she could.

It wasn’t a very eventful day, nor was it a long one. Rupert had to stay on campus because he was still technically on the clock, but they spent a lot of time kissing and touching and talking. He gave her a bunch of his old journals and things that he said the Council would probably have taken away in her universe, and a few books from his personal collection that he thought might be of use to her, and then Jenny finally got to print out all the articles she’d found over the last year that had made her think of him.

“Very funny,” said Rupert dryly, placing Man Nearly Killed By Book, Saved By His Own Computer down on his desk.

“It is,” said Jenny, grinning. “Science always triumphs.”

Rupert grinned back. “You’re quite dreadful,” he informed her. “I believe I forgot about that.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Jenny replied cheerfully. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Rupert’s smile faded. “That it does,” he agreed.

Jenny was suddenly reminded of the fact that, if all went according to plan, she would never get to see Rupert again. “I’ll try and hang onto the bad things about you too,” she said, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “Not a romanticized version of you in my head.”

Rupert hesitated. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said finally. “I don’t know what part of your death or your life I can hold onto as bad.”

Jenny laughed out loud. When Rupert’s expression didn’t waver, she stopped. “Wait, you’re serious?” she said.

“Is that funny?” Rupert frowned, looking somewhat confused. As though it was clear as day that Jenny had never once been at fault.

Jenny sighed. “Rupert,” she said. “I stayed late at night at school. I told a stranger about what I was doing. I wasn’t nearly as careful as I should have been.”

“Still—”

“Still, I knew the risks and I took them, disregarding what could and would have happened because I thought Angel’s redemption was worth more than my life.” Jenny bit her lip, letting her hand drop to Rupert’s shoulder. “If nothing else,” she said, “I know that I don’t want you to romanticize the way your Jenny died.”

“Jenny—”

“I’m not a martyr,” said Jenny. “Neither was she. Her death wasn’t an accident, Rupert. She always knew what she was getting into.”

Rupert hesitated. “What do you want me to think of her?” he said finally, quietly.

Jenny smiled slightly. “Whatever you want,” she said. “As long as you don’t think she didn’t do anything wrong.”

Rupert studied her face, then kissed her softly. “That seems reasonable enough,” he murmured.

“Good,” Jenny whispered, kissing him back.

“Giles!” called Buffy’s voice from the library, and Jenny heard the clattering of footsteps. “Is he here? It’s time to start doing the whole research thing!”

Rupert looked at Jenny, his expression pained, and hugged her very tightly. “I don’t want you to go,” he whispered, voice shaking as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Jenny had never once heard him sound like that.

“Giles?” Buffy called again.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Jenny said very softly. It was the first time she’d said it aloud. “I don’t want you to be dead.”

Rupert pulled back and kissed her. “I promise I’ll be safe here,” he told her.

“I want you to be safe with me,” said Jenny vehemently. She might have been crying.

She wanted Rupert to steer her wrong in that moment. Both of them knew that if he told her then that it wasn’t too wrong to stay, that the children wouldn’t miss her too much, that she should stay in a place where she could love and be loved and be happy, she would give in and stay.

But Rupert had never been that kind of person.

“I know,” he said, hugging her. “I know.”

Jenny uttered a small, broken sob into his shoulder. He was alive here, and he loved her, and she wanted to be with him. The right decision fucking sucked sometimes.

“Gi—oh. Okay.” Buffy backed out of the office. “I think they need a minute,” Jenny heard her say to Willow and Xander.

“No,” said Jenny, and sniffled, looking up at Rupert. “Let’s get started.”

Jenny sat down in front of the mirror.

“This feels like one of those spy movies,” Xander was saying to Buffy. “You know? Cut the right wire or everything goes to pieces.”

There were seven sigils on the left side, and eight on the right. Jenny was fairly certain that she’d seen Buffy rub out one on the right side of her mirror, so she could always just rub out the lowest one there—

—or maybe Buffy had thought this one through. Buffy seemed to want Jenny to stay out of her universe, anyway, so maybe she’d picked a sigil that Jenny hadn’t even thought of. Maybe she’d picked one of the middle ones on the right side. Maybe she’d picked one on the left side and was banking on Jenny being as muddled as she felt right now. Maybe—

“Maybe you should take a breath,” said Rupert very gently, taking Jenny’s hand (which she appeared to have curled into a fist) and unclenching her fingers.

“This is serious business,” said Jenny.

“I know,” Rupert agreed. “I’m not disputing that. But your stress won’t change the outcome.”

Oh, god, Jenny was going to miss him so much if she ended up leaving. “Yeah,” she agreed somewhat reluctantly, squeezing his hand. “You—you’re probably right.”

Rupert raised their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Jenny wanted to start crying again.

“Okay,” said Buffy, who looked the same kind of sad that Jenny felt. “Um—maybe I can help? If it’s other-me that erased the sigil on the other mirror, maybe this me can erase the sigil on this mirror.”

Jenny hesitated. It seemed a little dicey.

“I feel as though it’s the closest we can get to definite,” said Rupert hesitantly, “given that the Buffy from Jenny’s world isn’t here, and the Buffy from our world is.”

“I…guess so,” Jenny agreed finally, scooting her chair over so that Buffy could see the mirror.

Buffy stepped closer, examining the mirror. She looked at the sigils, cocking her head, and then rubbed out one with her thumb.

The mirror sparked and fizzled.

“Is that good?” said Buffy anxiously. “That’s good, right?”

“Um,” said Jenny weakly. “I’m not sure?”

The surface of the mirror glowed golden, and then Jenny saw a different Sunnydale library reflected back at her. Buffy, Willow, and Cordelia were all talking in low, sad voices; Willow looked like she had been crying.

“Do you see them?” Rupert inquired, glancing over her shoulder.

“Yeah, I—” Jenny hesitated. “Look, can I have some privacy?” she said finally to the room. “This might take a while.”

There was a murmur of assent from the children, all of them heading out of the library. Rupert hesitated, then nodded as well. “If—you’re gone—”

“Then this can be our goodbye,” said Jenny with conviction. Rupert nodded crisply, but she could see that he was holding back tears. “Kiss me?” she requested, trying to keep her voice steady.

Rupert obliged, threading his fingers through her hair and pulling back only to kiss her forehead. “I love you,” he whispered. “So much.”

“I love you too,” said Jenny. So much for the whole steady-voice thing.

She wanted to grab him and pull him back the moment he stepped away, but she couldn’t, so she didn’t, turning instead back to the mirror. The girls hadn’t noticed her yet.

“Hey,” said Jenny loudly.

Willow jumped. “Ms. Calendar?” she said tearfully.

Buffy’s face was unreadable.

“Can I talk to Buffy for a second?” Jenny asked, heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know what she wanted the outcome of this conversation to be, and that was somehow the scariest part of all this.

Willow sniffled, then nodded. “Can you talk to me next?” she asked timidly. “I—have some stuff I want to say.”

“Of course,” Jenny agreed, and waited until Willow and Cordelia had left the mirror-library before locking eyes with Buffy.

“What do you want?” Buffy inquired somewhat thinly.

Jenny hesitated. “You were open with me before,” she said finally. “What’s changed?”

“Look,” said Buffy, her voice almost too even, “if this is about me breaking the connection, you and Giles made that connection, however accidentally, because you wanted to be with each other. It wouldn’t be right for me to tie you to a world that doesn’t have the guy you love.”

“Buffy, you know that’s not how that works,” said Jenny.

Buffy pressed her lips together. Her eyes were wet.

“There is no way I could live with myself here if I knew I’d left someone who needed me,” said Jenny. “And there’s no way I could live with myself if I decided to stay here based on someone lying about not needing me. Believe me, Buffy, I know what lying looks like.”

Buffy didn’t say anything.

“Please,” said Jenny. She didn’t touch the mirror, not yet sure what it would do. “Please be honest with me.”

“Ms. Calendar,” said Buffy in a small voice, “the last time I saw Giles really smile before he died was when he was smiling at you.”

Jenny opened her mouth, then shut it. She didn’t know what she could possibly say in response to that.

“And—I saw the way you were smiling at him through the mirror,” said Buffy. “I saw how you started smiling after you heard him on the phone. You—I never bothered to think about how hurt you must have been when he died. Not once.”

“That’s okay,” said Jenny firmly. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Buffy shook her head emphatically. “I was—”

“You were grieving,” said Jenny. It felt strange, saying these gentle words when a part of her still felt an angry, unjustified resentment for all those weeks of loneliness and apathy—not at Buffy, not directly, but at the situation as a whole. Maybe that part would never really go away. Maybe the trick was learning to move through it. “You lost your boyfriend and your Watcher in the span of a few weeks, and at seventeen. You don’t have to carry my emotional responsibility on your shoulders.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” said Buffy fiercely. “Ms. Calendar, you of all people deserve a chance to be happy. If your love and loneliness can rip apart dimensions, you shouldn’t have to stay in a place that makes you that upset.” Jenny considered her answer very carefully. Finally, she said, “My loneliness wasn’t because you and the kids weren’t enough for me. I never want you to think that.”

Buffy uttered a small, shaky breath. Jenny wasn’t sure if she was going to say anything in return, but then Buffy replied with visible effort, “Then why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you feel so alone?”

It was a pretty personal question, but Jenny had asked for honesty from Buffy, and it would be hypocritical if she wasn’t truthful in return. She breathed out, then said softly, “Because I felt like I couldn’t do anything to help you.”

Buffy looked stunned by this. “I didn’t know—” she began.

Jenny smiled tiredly. “It’s fine,” she said.

“I didn’t know you cared about me,” said Buffy finally. “I always thought—after Giles died, you just pulled back so completely. It was like we weren’t even there.”

Abashed, Jenny looked down. “I’m sorry,” she said, surprised by the words. She hadn’t realized that her disconnected nature after Rupert’s death would affect Buffy that much. “I thought—I’d done enough damage as it was, you know? I didn’t want to make things worse.”

“Well, you did,” said Buffy, an angry sadness in her voice. “I want to get to know you, you know? Giles always used to talk about you and how you always made ketchup smiley faces on your burgers and how there was this one time that you almost set the teachers’ lounge on fire. And you just—I wanted someone to be there, after Giles—you were never there. And you loved him just as much as I did, and you were never there.”

“If I’d known—”

“You never even tried to know.”

“I was hurting too.”

“So now you can go off and forget it ever happened.” Buffy was half-crying. “I thought maybe things had changed when you started looking at us instead of through us, but that’s the way it always works for you, isn’t it?”

Jenny made her decision right then and there. She thought of Rupert one last time, storing the one day she’d had in a wonderful corner of her heart. And then she touched the mirror.

A flash, and a burning sensation, and Jenny toppled over on the floor again, except this time she couldn’t stop crying.

“Oh my god,” Buffy whispered. “Oh god, Ms. Calendar, no.”

She’d wanted to stay so badly—

“—you were supposed to be happy—”

—so badly, and she’d never see him again—

“—why would you leave for me?” Buffy demanded, half-sobbing, grabbing Jenny’s shoulders. “You were going to be happy!”

Jenny pulled Buffy into her arms and hugged her, hard. Buffy started crying, really crying, and hugged her back.

It was many hours later before Jenny finally had the chance to answer Buffy’s question. “It’s not—” She hesitated, thinking. “It wouldn’t be right,” she said finally. “I couldn’t have just up and left you like that.”

“Maybe I don’t need you,” said Buffy. “What happens if it turns out the person you are isn’t someone I like?” But there was a note in her voice that made it very clear that this wasn’t a real question—more a test to see what Jenny would answer.

Jenny tucked a strand of Buffy’s hair behind her ear. “Then I try and become someone who can help you,” she said. “Rupert loved you for a reason.”

A ghost of that old brilliant smile flickered across Buffy’s face. “He loved me?”

“More than anything,” Jenny promised her.

Buffy smiled again. Nodded to herself. “Well,” she said. “Giles always seemed like the type who’d want the people he loved to get along, so—”

“Yeah,” said Jenny, and tucked her arm into Buffy’s. “I have a bunch of stories I think I want to tell you about him.”

“Embarrassing ones?”

“Oh, definitely,” said Jenny, and in a strange way, this felt a little like old times.

According to a spell on the mirror Jenny did a few weeks later, there were only a few loose threads left connecting her world to Rupert’s. She had a feeling that they would linger for a while, but she didn’t think she needed to worry about them all that much. Buffy was thinking of joining the cheer squad, and Jenny needed to figure out how to help her practice.

She never really got a goodbye phone call from Rupert, but that was okay. She had a feeling that he was probably figuring things out.

[yourrainbowrage]

No School || Solo

It wasn’t that Danny hated art, it was more he hated his teacher.

Danny didn’t always have to do this class- no, it only came about when he was officially diagnosed with his behavioural disorder. Which, at the time was thought to be some form of intermittent explosive disorder. This apparently meant that Danny was no longer suited for his regular science class, and was instead told to go to the “alternative” program, where they either did culinary or art classes. He wouldn’t complain about culinary classes, because he didn’t have Mr. O for culinary classes.

Mr. O made Danny’s skin crawl, he was always staring with such a filthy look, one that made Danny feel like he was the scum of the earth, even though Danny had never done anything to the other man. He’d never had him before the art classes, but he always tried to hurt Danny’s feelings, and Danny knew that.

Mr. O was generally a kind, sweet man. He treated all the other students in the alternative program with patience and caring. When Danny’s friend, Rosie, had been in the program, he’d treated Danny better, not the same as the other kids but better. Then Rosie left. And Danny had to deal with Mr. O’s torment by himself.

It’d been a rough night on Danny’s part, a strong head cold mixed with the typical teenage angst bullshit had him unable to sleep until about 4am, meaning he had gotten three hours of sleep before his mother had forced him up to go to school.

It wasn’t that Danny didn’t like school; of course that’s what he’d say if asked- he hated the fact that everyone treated him like trash, when you were in Azusa, it was hard to be treated like that, yet here they were. The teachers, the students, everyone made it not worth going, or living through. Yet, his mother wouldn’t take it for an excuse. Danny hated her for that sometimes, and could only wonder if she couldn’t see his suffering or just didn’t care.

Naturally, he’d been in a bad mood, going to school with no sleep and sick like a dog- it fucking sucked. He’d considered skipping, but knowing he was already on thin ice at this school was enough to keep him from the idea. Especially knowing how pissed his mother would be if he got expelled from another one, because hey, options ran out fast when you got moved round like Danny did.

Danny’s saviour came during the break, a period before the alternative program took effect. He’d been hiding out in the bathrooms when the local stoner- Ben- offered him a joint. Danny wasn’t one for drugs, but weed was pretty much harmless, and he thought he’d have to use it to get through a class with Mr.O, so he’d happily smoked with Ben until it was time for him to move his ass. English went by smooth that way, not that it was something that Danny struggled with, but at least he was chill enough to ignore classmates taunts.

The only bad thing about Ben was that his shit was cheap, weak, and didn’t last long at all, so by the time Danny had settled into Mr. O’s classroom, the drowsiness was starting to hit him. That, plus the head cold and lack of sleep had him struggling to keep from passing out.

As Danny took his seat in one of the highchairs, he stared at the person moving about in front of the white board. It wasn’t Mr. O, but he could see Mr. O busying off to the side of him.

“Hey, guys.”

The unfamiliar man started once everyone was seated, Mr. O went around closing the doors of the room, and Danny felt his eyes burrowed onto him. He tried to ignore it, tried to focus on their presenter instead.

“My name’s Sam. I’m Craig’s friend from college-“ Craig, being, Mr. O “He asked me to come in today to do some work with abstract mark making for you all.’

Danny wanted to groan. Abstract mark making. How dull. As Sam started his lecture, Danny got comfortable, knowing he was a friend of Mr. O’s meant it was safe to assume he would be talking for a while. With one leg tucked up on the seat leg, the other with toes pressed to the ground, Danny leant over the desk, one elbow planted so he could rest his head in his hand with his gaze directed down to the piece of paper in front of him. He picked up his pen, and started to doodle. It helped him pay some attention to the incredibly boring talk of the meanings behind Sam’s works. Not that Danny didn’t appreciate art, he just… preferred when art looked good, not like he’d just spewed some shit onto paper.

Danny’s eyes began to droop, he was trying incredibly hard to focus on the marks on his paper but it was practically impossible, everything in his body willing him to let his eyes shut for just a moment. And eventually it was too hard not to. At first they were just long blinks. Then Danny found himself missing chunks of Sam’s speech, which seemed to be dragging on forever. He knew that if he got up and started moving around to keep himself away that Mr. O would be mad, so he just tried hard to will himself awake. It wasn’t working.

He felt two sharp jabs to his back, enough to cause him pain in a way that made him jolt upwards. The sudden movement caused him to slip right off his chair, hitting his ass on the ground with a hard thud. He groaned as he looked up. Mr. O had been standing behind him. And his hand was still perched upwards. Mr. O had hurt him. Danny couldn’t focus on that, though, the room erupting into laughter distracted him. Mr. O- even Sam joined in. And Danny wanted to cry. He felt his chest tighten before Mr. O’s face returned to one a seriousness, holding a hand up to signal for the class to go silent, and most people listened.

He gestured for Danny to rise, and hesitantly, Danny did. “Can I talk to you outside?”

Danny wanted to cry so bad. He knew it would only make it would worse- it’d happened more times than he could count throughout his life. He already got called a crybaby, a sad boy, a faggot, everything on the daily, and he really didn’t want to make it worse. In the social higher arch of high school, Danny was the lowest of low, even the other “special” kids had an influence on what was said about him and if he had another meltdown in class, it would spread like wild fire.

There were a few moments of sheer panic as Danny waited outside, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. Mr. O emerged and those waves increased ten folds, Danny would’ve crumpled over if he could.

“If you don’t want to be here, then leave.”

Danny couldn’t respond, his throat was squeezing too tight.

“I will NOT have you disrespecting MY friend. What sort of image are you giving to HIM when you FALL ASLEEP during his lecture?”

Danny sniffled, trying to keep his tears in.

“Your little acts won’t work with me, Daniel.”

Danny peaked up from behind his fringe, choking out softly.

“I-I’m sick si-r.”

Mr.O scowled at him.

“If you’re sick, go home.” But Danny couldn’t, he knew his mother would hate if he were to go to the sick bay and force her to leave work and come get him.

“I-I- can’t.”

Mr.O sneered at him, looming over him in a way that, even though Danny was almost as tall as him, made him feel tiny and want to shrink up. “You’re a mess. I can smell the pot on you. You’re going to end up in rehab. Get back in there and don’t pull this again. I might deal with it in MY class, but I won’t deal with it when it’s SAM.”

Danny kept his head down, pushing past Mr.O and returning to his spot, covering his face with his hand and quietly sobbing, trying to ignore the eyes that he knew were on him.

Sam kept talking, and kept talking, but Danny couldn’t doze off now, not with how terrible he felt.

Eventually the practical aspect of the lesson came about, and Danny couldn’t be more thankful for something to put his hands to work on. Even though, he was making mistakes left and right, bumping ink a little bit, spilling some paint- but it was art, he thought it would be alright. Yet every time a slight mistake was made, Mr.O would scoff, or add a “Nice job, Danny.” And just when the boy thought he was doing well, painting some ridiculous excuse for an art piece with his “abstract marks”, Mr.O bumped right into him, causing the paint that Danny was using to spill everywhere, over the front of his sweater, over his piece, and on the ground. Danny watched the blue drip from the easel, splattering on the ground. That would make some artistic marks for sure, maybe if the colour was red. Danny’s hands curled at his side, hard enough that he felt his fingers denting crescent shaped marks into the palms of his hands and it felt his skin was too tight for his knuckles and they might rip through any second.

But he contained it.

He silently moved to start cleaning up the mess, as Mr.O, the students, even Sam joined in a chorus of whispers and slight laughs, and it all felt like a knife being repeatedly stabbed in Danny’s back. He was meant to be put in this program for his own good, yet he’d never felt more outcast and less safe in his life.

The period went on in similar fashion, and was going to be ended with another lecture. As Danny sat down, awkwardly hunched to avoid getting the still wet paint on his sweater onto the desk, his eyes drooped again. And at this point, he was too exhausted to care, to fed up with Mr.O’s behaviour and the taunting from the rest of the class, what was it, ten minutes?

The jabs returned not long after Danny had closed his eyes, he hadn’t even been asleep when he felt the pain. Danny didn’t need to be told before he slid off his chair and headed towards the door, heaving a sigh. He wouldn’t cry this time, he’d probably just take the brutality and run home and cry to Buffy.

“I told you, I’m not tolerating that. Go home.”

Danny rolled his eyes, and he could tell by the way that Mr. O’s hands twitched that he was hitting a nerve with the new disinterested attitude. He always did when he fell back into it. “I have a spare after this class, there’s no point in making me go home early.”

Mr. O clicked his tongue, a sound that made Danny want to cringe.

“I’m calling your mother to come get you.”

“There’s literally ten minutes of class left, fuck off.”

“Language. And why shouldn’t I?”

“Because she has a fucking job to do, duh? Just like yours which you’re shit at, apparently. Because you had to go and get your friend to do the lesson for you.”

Danny was always flip flopping between being terrified and dreading Mr. O and wanting to fight the man. He supposed he could blame it on the drainage of his sorrow today, and the fact that once you were exhausted you just could never really find it in you to care. That was until Mr. O spoke again.

“Well, tell your mother to stop being a whore and learn to raise a normal child. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to be called around so much just to get rid of you.”

Danny didn’t care what people said about him- sure, it hurt a lot when people were mean and Danny would probably hold onto his insecurities for life, but nobody spoke about Danny’s family like that. Craig should’ve known better.

Danny didn’t know when he moved, in fact, he wasn’t sure what was happening until he heard the thud, blinded by colours of red, orange and pink, he shoved his much larger teacher to the ground with a shout, and started to throw punches directly at the man’s face. Danny felt heat burn through his entire body, and he couldn’t contain it, every part of him ached to hurt this man who’d dare say something like that about his mother.

It wasn’t long before arms were wrapping around Danny, pulling him off as he kicked and screamed, insults that he didn’t even register as he watched Mr. O be pulled back. There was blood. Danny could see it in flashes of white, red streaking across his teacher’s swollen face. He felt it on his knuckles, wet, sticky, dripping.  Danny didn’t feel sorry though, he wanted to see that man bleed more. He didn’t deserve to get off so easy.

Unbeknownst to him, his shouting died down and he was simply breathing hard, watching a mess of students and teachers cross his vision but not registering any of it. All he could feel was an unshakeable, rainbow rage, one that couldn’t be contained in his physical form. He tore himself from whoever was holding him, turning in the opposite direction of the commotion and running.

It was enough to keep himself at bay, the pounding of his footsteps was enough to exert that energy that was making him hurt from head to toe. He reached the exit, booking it out of the school grounds and heading for home, ignoring the screaming and shouting behind him, that echoed off the walls and bounced in his head, making him feel trapped, unable to stand the feeling of their crushing disappointment. Nothing could make him turn back and enter that building again. He never wanted to see that place again. 

He never wanted to see them again.