#women deserve a little downward spiral. as a treat

[platinum-iridium]

i'm glad they show scully going to philly one weekend, fucking some random ass dude, getting a tattoo, and then showing up to work on monday. girls rock

[closetednobody]

C'mon, I cannot be the only that after all the shit they put Maya through with the demotion and the way Beckett was harassing Maya at work that thought that bottle of whiskey was well-deserved revenge?

She didn't force Beckett to drink. That was on him. I would've given Sullivan something too! Like, hire a PI, get photos of him and Ross and put all around the internet, the Stations, etc. If you're going down, bring them with you.

Like, why did everybody forgive Sullivan?

Honestly, there a lots of fingers to be pointed about Maya's breakdown.

Hello OP!

Sorry that I replied to this a little late, but no, you're not alone.

Although I wouldn't encourage Maya's actions, I understand why she felt compelled to do so, especially with how she was raised by Lane Bishop.

I also partially disagree with Ben's "you did that because you were in a bad place," and for Maya to "apologize when you feel comfortable" because it wasn't entirely Maya's fault. They saw how Maya was being bullied by Beckett - what did they do for their former captain who was demoted for saving a kid's life? NOTHING.

Of course, one would argue that Maya could learn from Andy's more diplomatic approach or Sullivan's more political (read: cunning) approach. Or maybe , she could've been patient for slightly longer, and things would've unraveled itself. But Maya has been patient - from being ignored by McCallister, bullied by Beckett, and unfairly lectured by Ross. In one of my posts, I've explained what could be Maya's thought process behind the blackmail (and probably why she wouldn't send PI on Sullivan and Ross) and that was the start of her... downward spiral.

So... should Maya give that bottle as revenge? No. If she is as heroic and noble as Andy Herrera, she shouldn't.

But Maya is an anti-hero. The twisted protagonist with a dark side. One who has been treated unfairly and has been "nice" for too long, and without Carina in her corner, she was... wounded. Feral. Desperate.

So, as far as Maya was concerned, Beckett was not an alcoholic when she gifted the bottle to him, as per Ross' wise and fair evaluation. So, a little whiskey to celebrate should be fine. (Maya's smirk when she left the room was sinfully satisfying.)

Should Maya apologize? Objectively, she doesn't have to. Conscientiously? She can. But it's not her fault. I hope we can delve a little more on her self-blame tendency, which is common amongst people who are recovering from traumas.

Sullivan's case? Honestly? Imo, it is just how the system/society treats men and women differently.

If a man fights for his rights for power, he is passionate and driven.

If a woman does the same thing, she is reckless and selfish.

Why? Because by social norm, women would generally become the "healer" while men are demanded to be the "hunter" - fascinatingly, it's something that is almost coded in our brains. But society and gender roles have changed so much that our brain, weirdly, couldn't adapt to it, hence creating biases that we subconsciously practice.

As "healers" (e.g., homemaker, mothers, etc), women are expected to be role models who are patient, forgiving, respectable, loving, optimistic, and the list goes on. Believe it or not, these are some of the traits associated with maternal qualities. Phew.

As "hunters" (e.g., earners, husbands, etc), men are expected to be goal-driven and focused because their main role is, basically, to go out, find supplies, and get their ass home, safely. They are expected to protect their home and dependents - by all means, at all cost.

But centuries have passed, and society has evolved. Even gender roles have shifted now, and the old norm doesn't seem applicable anymore. BUT! Our mind doesn't know that. (Recommending "The Idiot Brain" by Dean Burnett if you are interested in this weird conundrum.)

It's frustrating. But... *shrugs*

I never liked Sullivan after what he did to Maya, and I don't think I ever will.

I think I am rambling... so I'll stop here. 😆😂

[ranafoul]

I spam the shit out of ppls dashboards I'm sosorry

[pokesplendor]

carmela’s team from my pokemon shield playthrough! not as happy with this bunch... info beneath the cut!

Graves - Inteleon - she/he - lesbian White - cis woman - age 30

Graves came from a very unconventional background prior to entering into the League circuit. Having raised since she was young by Interpol for undercover operations, she was there and experienced things a child shouldn’t for the sake of ‘justice.’ Who’s justice is really to question in this situation, as she never had a say. It’s only once she reached legal age did she take a ‘vacation’ and decide to try the league. That’s where she re-encountered Ella, who she had met on the job in the Champion’s guard. She uses her combat skills she gained from her rigorous upbringing, which you’d think would cause her to dominate the field, but that isn’t the case. She’s actually fairly bad at it. 

She has a bit of a problem interacting with others. She was trained in how to act natural, friendly, and unassuming, but she doesn’t know how to not act. What’s Graves’ personality? Well, she’s a crybaby whenever she’s alone. Little things upset her, her anxiety ramps up her paranoia, and she keeps it all saved beneath the surface until she’s alone and then she cries. Other than crying in her off time, she’s a voracious reader, and particularly likes poetry.

If Graves could ever be honest with herself, she’d admit she’s fallen for Ella quite hard. That bright ball of sunshine brought a smile to her face in a way she hadn’t experienced before. But she wasn’t able to voice her feelings, and Ella is now sadly taken. She’s also a poor leader, along with a poor battler, and she doesn’t garner much respect from her team. She’s often spoken over by Crusher.

Crusher - Sirfetch’d - she/her - lesbian White - cis woman - age 34

Crusher likes to think she’s a gallant, chivalrous knight that leaves women quaking with soaked undies are her arrival and her deep, rusty voice sends shivers up their spine when she announces herself, and she’d like to think that everyone wants her around, but she’s wrong. She butted her way into Graves’ team, seeing its lack of, well, many things, leadership, power, attractiveness… They obviously would benefit from her accompaniment. She didn’t care what they had to say, she was going to be on their team and they were going to worship her for what she brings to the table. She’d like to think she’s wanted, but honestly, not very much so.

As if it wasn’t evidence enough, Crusher is extremely up her own ass, overconfident, and unfortunately, with enough power to back up her words. She’s a demon on the field, knocking enemies out with a single sweep sometimes. She works out on the regular, and doesn’t wear armor to show off her many (sexy) battle scars. Otherwise, she’s into collecting antique tea sets and little glass kittens to display back home. Her house is full of them.

Crusher likes to think (man she likes to think a lot of things) that everyone on the team is slightly in love with her, when she is tolerated at best. Goliath likes her, but Goliath likes everyone. He spots for her when they’re working out together, and she respects him for his strength. She’s especially hard on Thrasher and Maverick for not pulling their weight until they evolved, citing them as a weakness.

Goliath - Grimmsnarl - he/they - gay Japanese - nonbinary - age 21

Goliath hails from the Glimmwood Tangle, from quite a large and loving family, but he got it in his head that he had to see the world beyond the forest clearing, he wanted to see where all the people braving its endless maze to reach the gym were about, he wanted to know! A regular yearning princess wishing to see what’s beyond her tower she’s been trapped in. And this is the family business Matilda had to leave her swamp for, bringing his ass home. She got there a little too late, however, already picked up by Graves’ group and registered into gym fights. He couldn’t leave! He made a promise to help! And look at his cool new friends.

When not spent daydreaming about adventures he could be having, he likes to keep in shape. His family home requires constant upkeep, lest the magical wood overgrows anything manmade within a few days. He likes to read, despite struggling with it due to his dyslexia, and he hopes to write his own book one day about what he’s experienced, he wants to have an adventure worth filling a book with. He’s a very positive lad, a happy one, who tries to share the happiness with those around him.

Goliath is still young, but he’s pretty sure about who he is as a person, he knows where he stands on morals, and her own identity as well. He’s chivalrous and kind, always trying to get the team to work together and get along. It has varying results. Grievous loves to mother him, and he likes to think he’s pals with Graves. Despite being younger, he tries to protect Thrasher and Maverick.

Blitz - Centiscorch - she/her - queer White - cis woman - age 33

Blitz, like Graves, was raised by Interpol for infiltration and undercover work. Unlike Graves, however, while the Inteleon was sanded down to being a weak, anxiety-ridden mess, it only strengthened Blitz’ nerves of steel, causing her to become cold and calculating. She only joined the League circuit because she had a mandated vacation following losing her leg from the knee down, and she didn’t want to get rusty on her skills. Not to mention she saw Graves attempting to lead and failing at it and thought she’d stick around to demean her for her lack of anything worthy of use for Interpol’s workings.

She doesn’t have many hobbies, she likes working out, staying fit, and occasionally cooking some ultra healthy superfood, but it’s not like cooking is her passion. She doesn’t understand why people think you need to have a life outside of your work, she’s perfectly happy to just always be on the job and do as it demands. She smokes, but only the occasional cigarette so as to not negatively affect her health. She’s a woman of few loves, few words, and she thinks that’s just fine.

Blitz scoffs when the team tries to have any sort of ‘get to know each other’ exercise. It’s never in good faith, and just ends in disaster so she tries to avoid it. Grevious tries to mother her on occasion, for whatever reason, she never had a mother and she doesn’t want one, so she doesn’t understand why her face gets flushed and hands get sweaty when the dragon’s around.

Maverick - Corviknight - she/her - lesbian White - trans woman - age 32

Maverick is a failed knight from olden times; she was sealed in a tomb in the slumbering weld with her previous king as a way to protect him in the next life, only to be revived by Graves and Ella exploring the area. Being awoken in modern times, she had a lot to learn and get used to, part of it being her king is no more. The body is gone, and the tomb ransacked. She failed, and this weighs heavy on her shoulders through the journey. She agreed to follow Graves, sensing a nobility to her, Ella already having Thomasin by her side while Graves had no one. She is skilled in battle, if not unsure of herself due to her failings during both in the past, and while she was asleep.

She holds herself to high standards, almost impossible for her to meet, but no one else. She does not expect others to keep up her strict training regime, it is for her alone to shoulder the burden of being known as a failure. Despite that statement, Crusher constantly challenges her, and they’re often sparring with one another. In her off time, she enjoys weaving and is learning the modern trades of ‘sewing’ and ‘crochet.’ She enjoys making clothes for herself and others.

Her strict lifestyle doesn’t give her many moments to herself or to consider her feelings for others. She dedicates herself to a cause and thinks of little else. However she enjoys Grevious’ company. She does notice the occasional stares from others, such as Thomasin from Ella’s team, and she wonders what it could mean. Does she resent her for not joining Ella? It seemed only fair at the time.

Grevious - Dragapult - she/her - bi Vietnamese - trans woman - age 45

The ghost of a test pilot that went down during a new dirigible’s trial run over Galar. Her body was never found, believed to be incinerated by the blast, and her spirit has hung on to the area as she never got a proper burial. Graves, hearing her plight, followed her to her remains, giving her the burial she deserved. Freed from her prison, she was free to pass on, but she denied doing so, she had to repay Graves for her service. And so, she was conscripted to the gym challenge, one she had seen many travelers pass by speaking of such a thing and she was always curious just what exactly it was. She had heard things of course, but nothing is better than first hand experience.

Grievous is a very noble person, but not too stuffy either. She loves a good joke, she loves puns, and she loves giving people a good fright with her ghostly status. It’s all in good fun, she’d never do anything malicious or something that would genuinely harm others! She loves to fly, she had always loved to fly, and dying didn’t exactly rob her of that love. Now she can do it without a plane! She spent so long as spirit, she kind of forgot what having hobbies is like, and she’s trying new things!

She’s a very motherly person, and, being the oldest of the group, feels very maternal towards all the young little ones around her. She’s particularly concerned for Graves and Blitz upon hearing around their upbringing. That’s no way to treat a child! She does her best to tend to the others of the group. Though she would be lying if she didn’t say that Crusher pushed her buttons more than once.

Thrasher - Obstagoon - they/them - lesbian Black - transmasc nonbinary - age 24

Thrasher comes from a foster home full of wayward kids who grew up on the downward spiral of life, and they themselves weren’t an exception. Originally from Spikemuth, they never knew their parents and their foster home travels were rough. No one seemed to want to keep them, and at one point they got sick of it and ran away from home. They ran and ran and never looked back, and found a job working in the professor’s lab in Postwick. They didn’t ask them where they were from, nor tried to contact anyone else, so it was good for them. They met Graves early into their gym circuit and decided to join her to perform some field work for the professor.

They’re quite down on themselves, never feeling like they’ll accomplish anything of worth. They couldn’t be a good child, they’re not a good battler, it took them a while to come into their own, and Crusher needling them constantly didn’t help. In their spare time, they play guitar and sing covers of existing songs. They don’t have a knack for writing, just another thing they fail at. It’s been a tough life, and they stumble along the way constantly trying to get to a better tomorrow.

Thrasher is a shy sort when it comes to their feelings, they haven’t been engendered into showing their vulnerable side to others. And Graves’ group isn’t exactly what you’d call family. But it’s a nice change of pace and they almost feel… wanted. And Grevious is a nice addition to their life. To have such a motherly person doting on them is, well, a dream come true.

[bard-llama]

Thronebreaker homophobia headcanon?

Me: why would I add homophobia to my fantasy when I don’t have to? Also me: wow, there would be SO much angst potential in this!

As it says in the title, this headcanon has a LOT of homophobia, so don’t engage if that’s not something you can deal with rn. Also, to be clear: most of the continent is chill with homosexuality, and Rivia’s neighbors mostly view them as backwards. But like, this is feudalism. Human rights are pretty low on the agenda for any ruler, so they don’t much care.

Anyway uh... Rivia is now very historically homophobic and when King Reginald and Queen Meve married, it became law in Lyria too. Unlike Reginald, Meve isn’t actively homophobic - hell, she even encourages Reynard to bone Gascon - but she also isn’t aware enough of the impact of those laws to repeal them.

And then she gets betrayed and Nilfgaard takes over and they change the laws, because the Empire is fucking awful, but progressive in a few surface ways (you can marry anyone! And now you and your spouse can BOTH get drafted into the army and go die in the swamps of Velen!). 

After she gets Lyria back, Meve is gonna have to deal with that, but that’s a whole other story. For now, what I’m thinking is that Reynard has known since he was young that he had interest in other knights and that that interest was unacceptable. So he always hid part of himself, especially once he entered the King’s service (and really learned to keep his mouth shut). 

Problem is, Reginald himself has a LOT of internalized homophobia going on. And... okay, we don’t get a lot about him in canon beyond him being kinda dumb, but good at seeing cleverness in others and utilizing it. And also responding with overwhelming force when a threat emerges (like the Brossard family). 

So like, Reynard is in his early 20s and is serving as aide and advisor to the King. But King Reginald notices the way he watches other men and definitely projects some shit on Reynard. But he approaches it like he’s a concerned friend. Like, “you know you can never act on such things. Someone will find out and I will be forced to punish you.”

It’s always warnings - “oh, don’t do that, what if someone sees?” and “you fool, if you do that again, I will be forced to punish you” or some such. And Reynard doesn’t really understand what he’s done wrong, because he DOES try to follow the rules, but he always works to adjust his behavior anyway, because he knows his King doesn’t WANT to punish him. But if he’s forced to...

(TW for violence and serious homophobia)

Not sure what drives things to a breaking point - maybe Reginald gets jealous at spotting Reynard “flirting” with some foreign knight or dignitary or something??? - but the lesson Reginald teaches is one Reynard will never forget. Because he doesn’t know what he did wrong, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve punishment, especially when it’s the King carrying it out, because his King is just... right? (wrong)

The official sentence for homosexuality is flogging, castration, and execution, but Reginald says something like that because it’s Reynard, he’s worked hard to lighten the sentence or some such. Like, he makes it clear that Reynard is getting off easy when Reginald simply has him whipped nearly to death. 

Reynard doesn’t die - but it’s a close call, especially when some of the wounds get infected and he doesn’t get them treated the way he should, because he deserved this punishment. His King had said so. So it’s important that he returns to work and serves his King as best as he can, even though he’s a disgusting deviant.

I think he probably collapses at some point and Reginald deigns to send him to the royal medics and they save his life, but he’s out of commission for a good while, because he got whipped extensively and then infection took hold.

But when he finally returns to work, Reginald is just kinda like, “where have you been!? Work has piled up without you, get to it!” and never talks about the punishment he metted out.

But as years go on, it becomes a warning. If Reginald’s skewed vision sees Reynard getting too close to other men, he’ll call Reynard to him and touch the small of his back as a reminder. Like ‘don’t make me do this again’.

So Reynard folds pieces of himself up tight and tucks them away where they can never emerge. And while other knights are going around wooing women and getting married, Reynard is focusing on his work. It gets him a reputation - that’s he’s too stuck up for romance, maybe that he’s deviant because he ISN’T girl crazy, etc. The rumors are too bad, but they also never die, even as decades pass.

And then King Reginald of Rivia and Queen Meve of Lyria are married and their realms are merged - which makes homophobia the law throughout Lyria (and believe you me, a LOT of people are unhappy about this. but they have enough sense not to speak out, because royals are scary and homicidal). 

When Reynard first starts developing feelings for Meve, he’s actually almost relieved. Because if he can feel this way for a woman, then maybe he isn’t broken, isn’t a complete deviant. He’d still never make a move, though, because in addition to being married, Meve is Queen. And his experience with Reginald has taught him that you should always keep your private life (what exists of it) out of view of royalty. 

But I think for a while, he has hope. And then Reginald dies and he HATES that he’s relieved, but he is. And there are people who hope that Meve will repeal Rivia’s homophobic laws, but in honesty, it’s not even on her radar as something to deal with. Meanwhile, there’s 10 billion other things to deal with - and so she never gets around to it. She probably doesn’t enforce it - but that doesn’t mean that garrison commanders under her army don’t.

So Reynard serves Meve for 8 years, always keeping part of himself hidden out of sight. And he has never trusted anyone enough to reveal this part of him, so aside from rumors, the knowledge of his deviance died with Reginald.

Except then Meve is betrayed. And she never doubts Reynard’s loyalty and she’s right not to. But now they’re traveling as fugitives to try to make it to the Aedirnian border with the assistance of the fucking Duke of Dogs and his Strays of Spalla - aka criminals. (Though, technically, Reynard has no room to talk - and maybe he knows that. Maybe that’s part of why he’s kinda chill about serving alongside “deserters and bandits and peasants” whereas Meve feels like they’ve fallen low)

At first, Reynard HATES Gascon. He’s an obnoxious little shit who openly flirts with the queen - and even with HIM! Mostly just to get a rise out of him, he’s sure, but like, the audacity!! 

Except, weirdly, whenever Gascon smiles or laughs, Reynard’s heart goes doki doki and he doesn’t understand why. In the current fic I’m writing, Meve clues him in, but also triggers a downward spiral, because if Meve KNOWS he’s a deviant, then obviously he deserves to be punished again. Plus like... Gascon is a fucking baby. Reynard (and Meve a little bit) would DEFINITELY have mixed feelings about wanting someone less than half of their age. (Meanwhile, Gascon is just like ‘oh sweet, sugar daddy. Can we go kill people now?’)

Anyway, I don’t really know where this would go in different fics. In the one I’m writing right now, Reynard is expecting them to hurt him, because that’s what Reginald would do. Meanwhile Meve and Gascon are very confused and trying to figure out wtf is going on. But there will DEFINITELY be lots of comfort for Reynard.

I also want stuff like... idk, scar worship for the whip marks on his back and Gascon and Meve trying to help him heal, but idk exactly what that will look like.

tl;dr: this is definitely the backstory for at least 1 fic. But I’m torn on if I want to make it my canon backstory for Reynard/Thronebreaker. Because I do like writing escapist fantasy without homophobia, but also, I think this offers a lot of interesting things to explore, especially on the angst side of things.

If it IS canon for my Thronebreaker fics, then I promise that it would only be such for fics where it’s relevant/explored as a concept and not like, included in a PWP or something out of nowhere. I’ll always tag appropriately so you can choose how to engage, but... idk. I’m very torn.

Thoughts?

[i-am-very-very-tired]

It's no secret that celebrities (especially female celebrities) are intensely scrutinized for their looks. So we recently asked the BuzzFeed Community to tell us about female celebrities who were body-shamed by the media. Here's what they had to say:

Note: Some submissions include discussions about eating disorders.

1. Britney Spears "When Britney did the first performance after her breakdown, I vividly remember the phrasing that she had ‘ballooned to a size 10.’ BALLOONED to a SIZE 10!!!! I wrote and complained about how those words could have a devastating effect on the young and impressionable girls who would be reading it, but I never got a response."—silentword"Britney even calls people out for it in 'Piece of Me,' singing, 'I’m Mrs. she’s too big now she’s too thin.'”—belleyre 2. Taylor Swift "Taylor Swift was body-shamed before, when she was suffering from an eating disorder but didn't publicly state it. People said she looked 'sickly' and 'the kind of skinny that makes girls conscious.' Then, when she took a few years off and worked on herself, she was body-shamed again for gaining healthy weight during the Reputation era. She said that it affected her mental health, too."—rishibhak"Taylor also mentioned in her documentary that people speculated whether she was pregnant because her tummy stuck out a little. She said that started her downward spiral into her eating disorder. It’s horrifying what the media has done to her."—rachrupp

3. Jessica Simpson "Jessica got so much vitriol. She had curves, so she automatically got a lot more attention for her body rather than her incredible voice. Later, she gained a bit of weight, and every headline was focused on how she 'ballooned' and 'is out of shape.'"—movinonup319

4. Tyra Banks "There was that infamous moment Tyra was blasted for gaining weight in the tabloids, where she was pictured in a bathing suit. She wore the same bathing suit on her show and called out the paparazzi for sitting and waiting for people's worst possible angles and profiting off them. It's disgusting that she was dragged for looking heavier — so what if she had gained weight? — but it's completely abhorrent to think that the paparazzi exploits women's bodies like that to make money."–grundlefresch

5. Victoria Beckham "I once read and photographed this short article in the Metro (London):'Victoria Beckham’s worst fears have come true as she has joined the wrinkly hand club — which also includes Sarah Jessica Parker, Courteney Cox, and Madonna. The 39-year-old surprised onlookers at the Vogue Festival in London on Sunday when she exposed her withered fingers as she adjusted her designer shades. The immaculately turned out Posh showed that style can’t stop the aging process as she joins fellow A Listers in the aged finger club.'Notice how no men are part of the 'wrinkly hand club'? What is the exact point of this article? To shame women for having hands and for the natural process of aging? Who writes this bullying toxic garbage?"—laraevalinehayes

6. Christina Aguilera "She gained weight during each of her pregnancies, and the press treated it like a moral failing when she didn't immediately snap back to her 'Genie in a Bottle' days. After her appearance at a Michael Jackson tribute concert, the press could not stop talking about her body and suggested alcohol was contributing to her 'messy' look, going so far as to publish the hotel bar bill for her entire team. Oh, and her feud with Kelly Osborne was raging at the time; Kelly was on Fashion Police and called Christina a 'fat bitch' and worse."—chelseajack ADVERTISEMENT

7. Sarah Jessica Parker "People have been making jokes for years about how she’s aged, that she looks like a witch, that she looks like a 'horse,' etc. to the point that she became a punchline on both Family Guy and South Park."—janedoe18273719273

8. Michelle Obama "I just remembered that some guy on Fox News said that goddess Michelle Obama could do with 'losing a few pounds' when she was promoting healthy eating in schools. Nearly punched the wall."—clothildedauphin

9. Kelly Clarkson "The one that instantly came into my mind is Kelly Clarkson, who was body-shamed so much when she gained weight during her pregnancy. Body-shaming is bad, but body-shaming a pregnant woman is horrible."—s4bb472acb ADVERTISEMENT

10. Megan Fox "She was rudely shamed for her thumbs. I remember watching some celebrity entertainment 'news' show as a kid with my mom, and I was so confused when they said CGI was used for her thumbs in a commercial. 'Toe thumbs' is what they kept calling it. They were really shaming her for being born with brachydactyly."—misspikachu

11. Rihanna "Rihanna is consistently body-shamed because her forehead is 'too big.'"—kymwitmerRihanna has also been fat-shamed, despite looking gorgeous at every weight. Back in 2017, a sports journalist wrote the now-infamous article titled 'Is Rihanna going to make being fat the hot new trend?' The queen of calling people out put the writer in his place with the perfect meme, but RiRi shouldn't have had to deal with the body-shaming in the first place.

12. Soleil Moon Frye "She was so body-shamed and inappropriately sexualized when she became a teenager that she got a breast reduction at FIFTEEN. I was in my twenties at the time, and I remember it broke my heart the way they wrote/talked about her. 'Punky Boobster.' Disgusting, as if having big breasts somehow made her a 'bad person, a dummy, or a slut.' They acted as if she’d done it on purpose to betray them. It was SICK."—chrisa443ec9017

13. Kate Winslet "I rewatched Titanic recently and was absolutely enraged thinking back on people saying Kate was 'big' at the time. Feels like it was because she had breasts and was slightly curvy, when at the time it was still popular to have the 'heroin chic' look."—hozziebear

14. Jennifer Hudson —purrvanaJennifer was fat-shamed ruthlessly by the media until she lost weight. Then, she was ridiculed and criticized for being too thin. Women can never win!

15. And finally, Scarlett Johansson "Several years ago, a tabloid published a bikini photo of her, obviously captured from a distance, and she had her back to the camera. They were saying how lumpy, fat, and out of shape she was, that she was 'covered in cellulite' and 'over the hill.' It was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever read. Apart from the fact that writing something like that about ANYONE should be illegal, it was moronic because her body is widely considered phenomenal. Just bizarre, stupid, and shameful."—glitterycheerios

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 16

Title: Bruised, Not Broken

Warnings:  mental illness, memory and talk of near death experience, profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty​

“He’s struggling,” Esme says the following morning, as she leans stomach first against the kitchen island, cell phone pressed to her ear and an oversized mug of steaming tea staring invitingly up at her. “Badly.”

It’s eight thirty in the morning and she’s exhausted; a night full of broken sleep and attempting to fend off the monsters that accompany the reality of mental illness. It hadn’t been that bad in a long time; inconsolable, body wracking sobs that quickly transition into feelings of frustration and embarrassment, followed by a period of self loathing and disgust, finished off by intense rage directed at the mental illness itself and the people and experiences that directly caused it. It’s a hell of a thing to go through. Holding your six foot three, two hundred pound husband while he desperately clings to you and weeps like a terrified and wounded child. Able to do little more than offer verbal reassurance and attempt to comfort by running your fingers through his hair or rubbing his back. THAT isn’t the difficult part; the soothing comes easily and naturally and he normally responds quickly. Even the shame he feels afterwards is relatively easy to cope with. She can fend that off by staying calm and explaining why he doesn’t need to feel that way; somewhat convincing him that there’s no need for embarrassment just because he had a moment of vulnerability and weakness. Reminding him that he IS human; he’s allowed to feel hurt and pain and be frustrated and confused. But it’s the anger that takes over; all consuming and powerful and making it impossible to get through to him. She’d long ago learned that it’s best to just sit back and not say anything; let him rant and rave and vigorously pace the floor. Redirecting doesn’t work; he becomes defensive and accusatory and every little suggestion is taken as a personal attack or judgement. Silence IS golden when he goes off the deep end. Relegating herself to just listening and acknowledging what's happening to him and conveying understanding through body language and actions as opposed to words.

It always ends the same way. With pure physical and emotional exhaustion taking over. All the rage and tears expended and leaving him feeling empty and worn out; crawling back into bed and turning his back towards her in a silent request to just leave him alone. And she gives him that; a hand resting on the top of his head or upon his shoulder, yet no words ever exchanged. Staring up at the ceiling with tears of her own streaming down her face; a mixture of her own frustration and anger and pure and profound heartache. Not only hating to see the person she loves more than anything in the world hurting so badly, but detesting the fact she can’t do anything to take it all away.

“He always struggles at Christmas,” Ovi reminds her, and over the line she can hear the babbling of the littlest and the various voices belonging to characters on Sesame Street. It’s surreal at times; acknowledging just who he is now and how far he’s come. Easily remembering him as that scared and traumatized teenager and then having to remind herself that he’s a grown man; a wife and children of his own and well on his way to becoming a pediatrician.

“It’s different this year. It’s not just sadness. It’s frustration and it’s rage and it’s so much self loathing. I know we were told that this would happen; he’d go through these kinds of ups and downs. But he’s been doing so well and he’s been coping and hasn’t had a downward spiral like this in so long.”

“What is it he’s actually getting worked up over? What’s setting him off?”

“He’s been thinking a lot about Austin. He mentioned how it was bothering him how much Millie and TJ look like him. I mean, he’s always sad at Christmas. It’s always difficult for him. But it’s not like THIS.”

“Maybe he’s wondering what Austin would be like now. Or what he would have been like when he was Millie and TJ’s ages. And if he’s already down and out because of the holiday, adding that into the mix COULD make it worse.”

“It’s been years since he was THIS bad. You know how well he’s been doing. Everything’s been under control. He’s been managing it. Extremely well.”

“And he’s still going to therapy?”

“Religiously. By himself AND with me. And you know what a miracle THAT is. Him even agreeing to getting help in the first place.”

“Is he taking his meds? If he’s been off them or been skipping them…”

“I’ve checked. I went and counted them myself. There’s no extra. He’s been taking them. And I fucking hate that I even have to do that. Check up on him like that. He’s a grown man. He’s forty-seven years old and I’m treating him like he’s a child. I hate that I have to do that. I hate this whole fucking thing. This whole illness.”

“Unfortunately, he’s shown that he can’t be trusted. When it comes to meds. It’s a horrible thing to say, but…”

“This is just so unfair,” she laments, and lifts the mug of tea to her lips. “ That he’s suffering like this. He’s paid his dues, Ovi. And then some. Why does he have to KEEP paying? Wasn’t Dhaka enough? Wasn’t what happened twelve and half years ago a big enough price to pay? He doesn’t deserve this. This kind of pain. I’d rather see him physically struggling than this. Because at least I know that pain will subside. But this? I fucking hate this. And I can’t see Christmas being the only thing causing this. He’s never this bad.”

“How’d he seem when he got back? From Cambodia?”

“Tired. A little sore. But he seemed fine. He was glad to be home and in great spirits. He’s been...I don’t know...he’s been Tyler. Nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, it seemed like there was some underlying sadness, but I just chalked it up to it being Christmas and him always have a hard time.”

“Could something have happened while he was away? Could something have triggered it?”

“He didn’t tell me much. Just that the guys he took out were pretty much the biggest pieces of garbage he’s ever encountered. And that’s saying a lot; considering how many years he’s been doing the job and how many assholes he’s taken out. I guess they didn’t stop at just drug running and weapons trafficking. Apparently they abused women. And children. In the worst ways possible.”

“That could do it. Probably hit close to home. Hearing about someone taking advantage of kids like that.”

“He did seem rather vengeful about it. Satisfied, even. That he got the chance to take out people like that. And I don’t blame him; those people are scum and they deserve to put down in the most painful way possible. And he did say that it made him think about his kids. He kind of started dwelling on it; what would happen and how he’d react if anyone touched his kids like that.”

“That’s probably what did it,” Ovi concludes. “It’s probably been just eating away at him. It’s probably all he’s been thinking about; his own kids getting victimized like that. And you know Tyler. Once something is in his head, it lives there rent free. For a long time.”

“I try to get him to focus on other things; cut him off at the pass before he even gets down that rabbit hole. Usually it works; I can distract him and get him thinking about other things. And I thought it DID work. Guess I’m not as good at all of this as I think.”

“I think you need to cut yourself some slack. If anything, you do TOO much. You take too much on. You’ve got seven kids you’re taking care of. You’re dealing with Tyler’s issues. Are you taking care of yourself? Has anyone asked you how YOU’RE doing? Because that’s just as important.”

“I’m doing okay,” she lies, and swallows a mouthful of tea. “I’m fine.”

She feels anything but; weary to her bones and longing to be home. Six years ago, Australia had become her happy place; a beautiful home backing out onto the beach and the ocean in such short walking distance. There’s a bliss that comes with being there. The feel of the sand beneath your feet and between your toes, the sound of the waves as they roll up onto the shore, the smell of salt that hangs heavily in the air. It represents everything that is beautiful and good in her life; incredible little human beings she’d had a hand in making and a man that loves her more than anything in the world and practically worships the ground she walks on. Everyone seems happier there; content with the sunshine and the warm temperatures and the close relationship with nature. The pace of life seems slower; more laid back and relaxing and not possessing the amount of stress and tension that being in the States in the middle of winter seems to bring. And while she loves it in New York -the convenience that comes with a big city and the amount of activities to keep yourself busy that are available- she’d willingly give it all up if meant it would alleviate some of the suffering that Tyler’s mental illness brings upon him.

“You realize I know you’re lying, right?" Ovi says. "That I lived with you for years and I know exactly how you get; taking on the world’s problems and not paying attention to your own. You can’t keep doing that. You can’t keep ignoring yourself because you’re so busy trying to solve everyone else’s issues. You can’t pour from an empty cup. You burn yourself out and you’ll be no good to anyone. Especially the kids.”

“I don’t have time to worry about myself. Or the energy. There are far more important things going on than what I’m going through.”

“So you’re NOT fine.”

“It’s stressful. It’s Christmas. I always get like this at Christmas. It’s all those ridiculous standards my mother put on us when we were young. Everything had to look and be perfect on the surface so no one really knew just how messy it all was underneath. I can’t get out of that; that line of thinking. And yes, I DO know that’s unhealthy, Doctor Mahajan.”

Ovi chuckles. “Let’s not go tossing that title around just yet. I’ve got a few more years to go. Especially when I’m going into a speciality.”

“Listen, if I want to call my kid a doctor, I will. I’m proud of you. I know how far you’ve come. Everything you’ve gone up against and battled through. I still remember fourteen year old you. Keeping you occupied in that factory; talking about movies and girls and school.”

“I still remember when you showed up. Wondering who the hell you were and thinking ‘how the hell is someone THAT small going to help us?’. Talk about not being able to judge a book by it’s cover. Tyler was right; it is the tiny ones you have to watch out for.”

Smiling, she takes a sip of tea and then perches herself on the edge of the counter. “Do you remember when we used to go into town and get ice cream? In Telluride? When you had your last period off in high school and you’d come home early and it would just be the two of us?”

“I LOVED that place. That was like a childhood dream come true! Walls of candy and thirty flavours of ice cream and these enormous banana splits and massive sundaes. Remember that time we shared that really huge hot fudge one? With the whipped cream and the peanuts on it? I think it was called the Beast or something like that.”

“The Behemoth,” she laughs. “I DO remember that. We sat outside and shared it. We even flipped a coin to see who got to eat the cherry that was on the top.”

“I am still mad at you for winning that. I really wanted that cherry. Those are some of my best memories, you know. The things we’d do together. When Tyler was away and Millie and the twins were at school. We used to have some fun. I used to love when we went bowling. And we’d eat french fries soaked in vinegar.”

“And those really horrible hamburgers. With the flat patties. And no taste. That seems so long ago. You were what? Eighteen? If that?”

“Just turned seventeen. And that IS a long time ago. I AM twenty seven now.”

“And you have your own wife and your own kids. And you’re a doctor.”

“Not yet,” he laughs. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Let’s not pretend it won’t happen. We both know it will. And I am; proud of you. So proud. You have come so far, Ovi. To do as well as you have after everything you went through. You would have had every right to have issues.”

“I had two people that loved me and believed in me. That made me realize I could do whatever I wanted. BE who I wanted. If I hadn’t had you guys? I wouldn’t be where I am now. I probably would have followed in his footsteps. I would have felt obligated to. Scared and pressured into it. And it would have just kept that whole vicious and toxic cycle going.”

“I know we weren’t perfect. I know Tyler and I went through some shit that you had to listen to and witness. But all we’ve ever wanted is the best for you. For you to realize how amazing you are. How much potential you have. And all we wanted to do was give you a good life. Even if at the time we didn’t have the money you once had and sometimes it seemed we didn’t have much to offer you. All we wanted was to give you a family.”

“You did. And it never mattered what you could and couldn’t give me. Materialistically speaking. All that mattered was that you loved me. And I felt that. I ALWAYS felt that.”

“It’s strange, huh? How something so crazy and scary brought us together? How complete strangers can become family? It’s surreal.”

“It wasn’t the most conventional of meetings, but it certainly turned out pretty amazing. You know what I remember the most? About back then? When we did meet? I remember being on that bridge with you. And how you refused to separate from me. You said you wouldn’t leave me. And you didn’t. Even I was slowing you down, you never abandoned me. And you didn't treat me like you were doing a job or I was some kind of package. There was no money, but you still stuck by me.”

“We were in it together. I wasn’t going to sacrifice you to save myself. That’s just not who I am. I wasn’t going to leave you. In the same way I wasn’t going to leave Tyler there. There was no way I was doing that; taking off and leaving him there to die. I couldn’t live with myself if I did. My conscience couldn’t handle it. And selfishly, I wanted him alive. I wanted to get to know him and be with him.”

“Hell of a way to profess your love for someone. Willingly sacrifice your life to try and save them. Stick your fingers in their neck to keep them alive. Nothing says ‘I love you’ quite like that.”

“It was quite the ordeal,” Esme agrees, and finishes off the remains of her tea. “You know, sometimes it feels like just yesterday. Other times it feels like forty years. But if I close my eyes and I try hard enough, I can actually remember what it felt like to be there. How scared I actually was. I can hear the gunshots and the explosions and my own heart pounding in my chest. I can even still smell things; blood and gasoline and gunpowder.”

“I believe that’s something referred to as PTSD.”

“Listen buddy, you’re trying to become a pediatrician, NOT a shrink. Don’t go psychoanalyzing me.”

“I’m just saying maybe it’s time you worked on what’s going on in YOUR head. Instead of worrying so much about what’s going on in Tyler’s. I know you love him. I know you’d do anything for him. You go hard core Mother Hen when he gets like this. And I know you can’t help it and I know he appreciates everything you do for him. But you know what else I know? I know he doesn’t expect you to forget about yourself while constantly taking care of him. He’s a grown man. And he’s more than capable of taking care of himself.”

“It’s easier said than done. I can’t just let him fend for himself. I can’t just let him spiral out of control and do nothing more than hope for the best. He’s my husband. The father of my kids. And it kills me to see him like this. To know he’s in so much pain. To hear him talk about himself like he does.”

“When he gets like this, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Or saying. He just lashes out. He doesn’t mean it when he says he wishes he had died five years ago. Or twelve and a half years ago. That’s just his brain telling him this shit. Do you think he’s in crisis? Do you think he’d hurt himself? Try something stupid?”

“No. I don’t think he WANTS to die. I think he just wants this over. The pain he’s in. He just wants it to stop.”

“He’s going through a depressive stage. It’s to be expected. I mean, it sucks it’s happening right now. At Christmas. What’s he doing right now?”

“Sleeping.” She looks out towards the living room; Tyler fast asleep on the couch, on his stomach with the comforter from TJ’s bed tossed over him and an arm and a leg dangling over the side. The night hadn’t gotten any better after he’d fallen asleep. Tossing and turning and having nightmares; finally coming downstairs to take up residence on the sofa and give her the chance to get a peaceful, undisturbed rest. But she hadn’t been able to. Too worried about him and wanting nothing more than to go downstairs and join him on the couch, yet knowing his current mood, her actions wouldn’t be well received. “He’s on the couch right now. It was a rough night. Nightmares.”

“About?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. Which means they were about Dhaka. Most likely about the bridge. He’ll talk to me about Nathan, but not about the bridge. He avoids that like the plague. More for me than for him.”

“Have you called his therapist? Told him what’s going on? Maybe he has some suggestions; things that can alleviate some of the anxiety and the panic. Help him sleep better.”

“If it gets worse, I’ll call. This could have been a one off. It might have just been a delayed reaction to being away.”

“If it wasn’t and he DOES get any worse? Call. Don’t hesitate. Or take him to the emergency. Or call me and I’ll take him.”

“I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that. He’s resting now. Which is a good sign. Last time he went into a depressive state, he didn’t sleep for a week. I’ll give it a couple days. At least get past Christmas. Once it’s over, he might perk up.”

“Don’t hesitate to call me. If he gets worse or you sense he’s spiralling out of control. I’ll be there. As soon as I can.”

“You have your own life. Riya and the kids. I can’t…”

“That’s my dad. I want to help. LET me help. It’s the least I can do. I’ve to go for now though; promised Mykayla we’d go see Santa in Central Park. She has some last minute gift ideas to drop in his lap.”

“Give her and Tabbi a kiss from Grandma Me. Tell them I love them. Riya too. I love you, Ovi. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’ll give them tons and hugs and kisses from you,” he promises. “And I love you too, mom.”

****

She’s sitting in the sunroom when he wakes an hour later; listening to him shuffle through the living room and into the guest bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. Minutes later he’s heading towards her; yawning noisily and his eyes heavy lidded. And she glances up from the laptop resting upon her thighs when he pads into the room; clad in a pair of tattered and faded plaid pyjama bottoms and no shirt. And she can’t help but think about how adorable he looks; a giant of man boasting his fair share of tattoos and scars, his hair mussed from sleep and a sporting pout of both sleepiness and annoyance.

“Hey sleeping beauty,” she cheerfully greets, and tilts her head back to smile at him. “How you feeling?”

“Alright I guess.” He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and then rakes his fingers through his hair. “Can you stand up for a second?”

She cocks her head to the side, a quizzical look on her face.

He manages a small smile, then runs a gentle palm over her hair and adds, “Please?”

Obliging, she places the laptop on the seat cushion next to her and then joins him at the side of the couch; immediately gathered into his embrace and pulled tightly into his chest. And she climbs onto the top of his feet and perches on her tiptoes in order for her arms to reach their final destination; wrapped tightly around his neck. For several minutes neither of them speak; eyes closed and their warm bodies pressed together, a forearm holding her in place and a palm cradling the back of her head. He feels so good; his body hard and strong and never failing to make her feel safe. It’s never been a worry of hers; whether or not he’d be able to defend her if someone hell bent on revenge was determined to hurt his family. And she rests easy at night knowing what he’s capable of and that he’d do whatever it takes -even giving up his own life if need be- to protect her.

Tangling his fingers in her hair, he gently tugs on the short, soft tresses, forcing her to pull back and look at him. She hates what she sees in his eyes; that darkness that betrays just how lost and confused and scared he actually is. A man that always has always been so strong and so fearless; fighting other peoples battles while refusing to address his own. And it breaks her heart. Knowing that the things he’s capable of -the fierceness and the tenacity and the sheer brutality he’s reined down on people- are some of the many reasons he’s now feeling so weak and vulnerable. So good at the job, yet suffering so badly because of it.

“I’m sorry,” his voice quivers with emotion. “I am so fucking sorry.”

She reaches up to push limp bangs away from his forehead. Trying desperately to keep her own fears and worries from betraying her. He doesn’t need that right now; her coming undone and weeping in HIS arms. It’s time for her to be the strong one; holding him up and supporting him and never making him feel like a burden. “For what? What do you have to be sorry for?”

“The way I acted. Going off the deep end like I did. I hate that you have to see that. Hear the shit I say. You shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

“Tyler, you’re sick. It's a legitimate illness. And you know what? You’ve had an amazing five years. Barely any depressive or manic episodes. Things have been pretty stable and pretty smooth sailing. But we were told this could happen. That you could crash like you did. It’s just part of it. And you can’t help it. You don’t know what you’re doing or what you’re saying and…”

“I DO know what I’m doing. And what I’m saying. I’m not blacking out when it happens. I know exactly what’s going on when it’s happening.”

“It doesn’t mean you have control over it. Because you DON’T. It’s your brain. And when things go haywire, you can’t stop the things you do and the things you say. And you’re not to blame for that. You can’t control what is going on. And I know that’s what scares you the most; the loss of control.”

“I just hate that you have to be there. When it happens. That you have to see that shit and hear the things that come out of my mouth. I hate that it hurts you. That I hurt you.”

“You don’t hurt me. I hurt for you. That’s two entirely different things. You have nothing to be sorry for. And I know things were great and it seemed like it was completely under control. But baby, this is going to happen. Whether we want it to or not. We can’t stop it. It’s just the nature of the beast, unfortunately.”

“If I’d died five years ago...twelve and a half years ago…”

“Listen to me,” she pleads and takes his face in her hands. “DON’T go there. That is a very dark place and if you go there, you may never get back out. You are here for a reason. You’re here because you deserve to be. Because there’s people that love you. That NEED you. You helped me make seven beautiful little humans. None of them would exist if you weren’t here. Isn’t that enough? Knowing they’re alive because you are?”

“Of course it’s enough. But they shouldn’t have to live with this. YOU shouldn’t have to.”

“You are not the burden you think you are. It’s an illness. You can’t help what’s going on and you didn't do anything to cause it. It’s not your fault. Your brain didn’t do this to you because of something you did. It’s so many things. And you know what? It sucks. Huge. And I hate that this is happening to you. I hate that you are at war with your own mind every second of every goddamn day. But I won’t let you talk like that. I won’t let you say that you should have died. I won’t let you completely discount the life that you have now. Because I didn’t stick around on that fucking bridge and put my ass on the line so you could turn around and totally disregard that you were given a second chance for a reason.”

“I never asked you to stay. On that bridge. I never…”

“I stayed because you deserved to live. Because you’d paid your dues and you got your absolution. And you know what? Maybe part of it was selfish. Because I knew we could have something amazing if you stopped hating yourself long enough to let me love you. Can you honestly look me in the eye and say you really wanted to die that day? That you would go back and change that if you could? Even knowing you wouldn’t have what you have now. Someone that loves you more than they love themselves. Seven kids that think the sun rises and sets on you. Would you really go back and change everything? Would you really choose to die?”

“No,” he blinks back the tears that threaten to escape. “I wouldn’t. I would choose you. And my kids. Every day.”

“I’m sorry this is happening to you. I’m sorry you’re hurting as much as you are. And I would give anything to take that all away and make you healthy. But you are not broken and I won’t let you destroy what you have. I won’t let your brain destroy YOU.”

“You shouldn’t have to do this. Take care of me like this. Do you know what this is like? How fucking embarrassing it is? That you have to take care of ME?”

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m your wife. I’m the mother of your kids. I have you seen at your absolute worst. I’ve seen you inches from death. This? This is nothing compared to some of the things I’ve seen and heard. You should never be embarrassed around me. I’m not going to judge you. And it's okay to be weak. To have vulnerable moments. You’re a goddamn human being.”

“I hate it. Being like that. Being weak.”

“Because you were told that it makes you less of a man. You had that drilled into your head from the time you were a little boy. And you know what? Nothing could be further from the truth. It takes a strong man to break down and admit they need help. You are the strongest person I have ever known. You do battle every second of every day with your own mind. And you always keep going. THAT’S brave.”

“I don’t feel it. I feel weak and pathetic and…”

“You are not any of those things. Look at everything you’ve been through. From the time you were a little boy until now. A weaker man would have given up a long time ago. But you? You fight back and you never give up and get back on your feet time and time again. That is strength, Tyler. The fact you suffer like you do but you get up every day and you smile when all you want to do is cry and you love your family with everything you have and bust your ass to make them happy even though you feel like you’re drowning. THAT? That is so far from being weak and pathetic.”

Sighing heavily, he glances away; swallowing noisily around the lump of emotion that sits squarely in his throat.

Pressing her fingers into his cheek, she turns his face back towards her. “I love you. More than you could ever possibly know. And I fell in love with you knowing how messed up things were and what kind of torment and pain you were carrying. None of that matters to me. Because I know who you are outside of all of that. I know that you’re loving and you’re caring and you have a heart that’s even bigger than your body. I know how deep and powerfully you love DESPITE everything you’ve been through. I didn’t back away then, and I’m sure as hell not backing away now. So you can try as hard as you want to push me away, but you’re stuck with me, buddy.”

“That’s not so bad,” he chides through threatening tears. “I mean, I can think of way worse fates.”

“I will love you and take care of you until your last breath. And you know what? I’ll love you even after that.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve YOU.”

“That’s your brain trying to convince you of that. And I know its voice is deafening and it seems impossible to ignore it, but you’ve got to try and shut it out. Concentrate on what I’m saying to you. Because what I’m telling you? It’s the truth. I’d never lie to you. So you need to pay attention to me, okay? And the things I say. I am way stronger and more tenacious than that voice inside of your head. Can you do that? Listen to me? Because I would never….ever...steer you wrong. You know that, right?”

“I do. I do know that. And I trust you. ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t trust my own brain anymore.”

“Then just rely on mine. Rely on ME. To give you the truth. Can you do that?”

“I can do that. Or try, at least.”

“That’s all I’m asking for. Now…” she lays her hands on his chest and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin. “...you hungry? What do you want for breakfast? I know I’m not actually the top chef YOU are, but I do make a mean veggie omelette. And you do like my french toast.”

“I thought maybe we could go out. To that little diner a few blocks over. The one that makes those Belgian waffles you like so much.”

“With the strawberries and the homemade whipped cream? I definitely could go for that. Are you sure though? That you’re up to it? It was a pretty rough night and…”

“I’m fine. Or I will be. It’s sunny out. The fresh air would do me some good I think. And we only have so much time without the kids left and I really do like our alone time. Outside of the bedroom.”

“So you don’t like the alone time in the bedroom?” she teases.

“I never said that. I LOVE that time.”

“A breakfast date with my favourite human sounds perfect.” Reaching up, she combs her fingers through his hair, pushing the longer strands off his forehead. “I’m proud of you, you know that? How hard you fight. A lesser man would have given up a long time ago.”

“I’ve got way too much to live for. Besides, I can’t go offing myself and then have to bear witness to you dating another guy. Or worse, marrying one.”

“Never going to happen. You’re it for me. There won’t be anyone after you. You’re stuck with me until the bitter end, Mister.”

A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he takes her face in his hands and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Hell of a way to go if you ask me.”

*****

“I talked to Ovi earlier,” Esme says, as they sit in the back corner of the diner. Sipping steaming mugs of tea; joined hands resting on the table top; fingers laced together and his thumb repeatedly brushing against hers.

The booth is a safe distance away from the main hub of activity; crowds of people and excessive noise caused by the rattle of dishes and numerous conversations and boisterous laughter taking place at the same time. It’s important to avoid any and all triggers, or to at least find ways to lessen the effects of something that could bring on ‘an episode’. On the short walk she’d noticed the tell tale signs that depression isn’t the only concern; the hyper-vigilance associated with his PTSD quickly creeping in. Exhibiting anxiety if he felt pedestrians were crowding around him on sidewalks or when waiting to cross the street. Glaring at anyone he felt was staring at him or in somehow posing even the slightest bit of a threat towards her; jaw clenching as he tightly brought her into his side or put a hand on the back of her neck while drawing him in front of her. And the glances cast over his shoulder; eyes constantly scanning for anything and everything that could be considered suspicious or threatening, visibly tensing at every slam of a car door.

It’s both disheartening and worrisome; to see him regressing back to old behaviours after years of coping so well. Being off the street has helped; his shoulders not as tense, jaw no longer clenched, eyes not surveying the crowd with so much apprehension and simmering anger. But he still insists on being the one to sit facing the door; able to physically handle a threat if one came in their direction. And while she knows those chances are rare and his brain is far from thinking rationally, she doesn’t argue or try to change his mind; squeezing his arm and giving him a reassuring smile before switching seats.

Tyler doesn’t look up from the menu open in front of him. “About me?”

“Yes,” she admits, and refuses to allow him to pull his hand away from hers. “I told him what happened last night. About how you’re struggling.”

“Why? Why would you tell him? He’s got his own shit to deal with. He doesn’t need to hear about what’s going on with me.”

“I told him because he loves you. Because you’re his dad. And he worries about you. We both do.”

“He’s got his own life. His own wife, his own kids. Don’t bother him with that bullshit.”

“You and your issues are NOT bullshit. And you’re part of his life. You have been since he was fourteen years old. We took him in and we raised him and we gave him a family. And he loves you. He has every right to know what’s going on with you. And you know what? I have the right to have someone I can turn to. When I’m struggling.”

“I don’t mean to be such a burden on you. Make you struggle so much.”

“That is not what I meant and you know it. I need someone I trust to help me, help you. And honestly, I need someone I can talk to. About all of this. Because it kills me inside that you’re struggling and you’re in so much pain. And I don’t want to put that on you, Tyler. Can you just accept that you’re surrounded by people who love you? That we’re trying to help? Let us love you, okay?”

Sighing, he nods in agreement. “Okay.”

“We’re just worried about you. We just want to help you.”

“I’ll be fine in a couple days. Once Christmas is over. I’ll act like everything is okay around the kids. So it doesn’t ruin things for them. I just need the holiday over with. I’ll be okay once it is.”

“I’m sure you will.” She hopes she sounds more confident than she feels. “It’s always a hard time. The holidays. And you know, seeing the kids so happy Christmas morning will help too. You know how cute that is; how excited they are, their faces all lit up when they see all the presents. It’s kind of hard NOT to smile when you see all of that. So that gives you something to look forward to, right?”

“You know what I’m NOT looking forward to? How many times they wake us up between midnight and five am.”

“It felt like every half hour last year.”

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been up until two in the morning putting together that stupid dollhouse we got for Addie and Brooklyn. Having to decorate every damn room and put out all those little forks and knives and plates and shit.”

“You were a pro. I was quite impressed how those huge hands of yours dealt with teeny tiny cutlery. And I have to say, you have quite the eye when it comes to interior design. Maybe you should be in charge of picking out decor for the house from here on out.”

“That’s not the deal. You pick shit out and I live with it. Or you tell me what needs to be painted and what colour you want and I do it. Or I carry heavy shit. I’m happy with that; our arrangement. What else did he say? Ovi?”

“He said that Tabbi is up on her feet and starting to cruise the furniture. Finally sleeping through the night. Remember those days? The relief that comes with THAT?”

“We didn’t really get to experience that until Takota and Brookie started sleeping through the night. They’re last so we didn’t have any babies after them to worry about. The rest of them?”

“One started sleeping through the night, another baby was born. We were pretty busy those first seven years.”

“You know, you could have always said ‘no’ a few times. You didn’t always have to put out every time I asked you to.”

“Are you kidding? And miss out on the fun? You can’t say it wasn’t enjoyable.”

He grins. “You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

“And Mykayla starts preschool next week. Can you believe that? Our first grand baby is going to be in preschool! It seems like she was just born. Kind of hard to believe, don’t you think?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact I have two grandkids.”

“For what it’s worth, I think we’re pretty sexy grandparents. You’re a damn fine grandpa.”

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“I don’t care. You ARE a grandpa. You ARE grandpa Tyler.”

“Makes me feel so fucking old. Way older than I actually am.”

“Well for what it’s worth, you’re the hottest grandpa around. I’d still do ya.”

“Yeah? Well I definitely wouldn’t say no to you. You’re kinda hot yourself. For a grandma.”

“What about when I’m the grandma who can barely see or hear and my hair is snow white and my body a total dumpster fire?”

“You’ll still be the most beautiful girl in the world to me.”

Smiling, she squeezes his hand and then smiles at the waitress who returns to refill his coffee and take their orders. For several minutes they sit in silence; his thumb sliding down to the base of her wrist and continuing its slow and methodical caress, eyes flicking back and forth as they constantly survey the surroundings and their fellow diners. She’s seen that look before; cautious and wary, as if expecting a threat to announce its presence any second. And it’s a side that she hasn’t seen in years; since extensive therapy began to help control the hyper-vigilance and paranoia.

“Hey…” she taps the toe of a boot against his shin in order to grab his attention. “...you okay?”

“Yeah,” he manages a smile; that half assed turning up of one corner of his mouth. “I’m good.”

“Really? Because you’re acting like an armed robber is going to come barging and start shooting up the place. Do you want to get our order to go? Eat at home? Where you’re more comfortable?”

“I’m comfortable here. I’m fine, Me. Honest.”

“You are NOT fine. You are far from fine. I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. I’m safe, Tyler. Nothing is going to happen. I’m with you. Which means nothing or no one can hurt me. I trust you. I know you can protect me if you have to. I am one hundred percent safe because I am with YOU.”

“What if I can’t? Protect you?”

“You can. You’ve always been able to. Nothing’s changed. I’m fine. I’m safe. I’m here with you and everything is right in the world. Just try and relax, okay?”

“I’m not who I was back then. When we met.”

“I don’t expect you to be. And you know what? You’re better than you were. You’re stronger and you’re healthier and I trust you one hundred percent. There’s nothing you can’t handle. Nothing you can’t beat. Everything is fine. I’M fine. You need to just try and relax, alright? Nothing is going to happen to me. Not when I’m with you.”

The tension slightly lifts; the stiffness in his shoulders easing and the frantic bouncing of his leg finally stopping. But she notices the way his hand shakes when he lifts when he lifts the coffee mug to his lips.

“Do you want to go? Do you feel like you’re going to have a panic attack?”

“No. I’m okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Here…” reaching into her purse, she briefly rummages through it and pulls out a small vial of pills she’s grabbed from the stash in the lock box in the pantry; snapping off the lid and dropping two in her palm. “...just a couple. It’ll take the edge of. Calm you down. Take them. Please.”

He obliges, plucking the tablets from her palm and placing them under his tongue and allowing them to resolve. The silence that follows is nerve wracking. Feeling her own heart pounding wildly in her chest as she watches him from across the booth; an elbow resting on the table , eyes closed and his palm pressed against his forehead. And she’s unsure how much time has actually passed when he takes a sharp intake of breath; eyes opening and his forearm coming to rest on the formica.

“Good?” she asks, and softly runs her fingers over his. “You alright?”

“Better.”

“You’ll be okay. In a few minutes, you’ll be right as rain. You’re doing good, baby. I’m proud of you.”

The corners of his mouth twitch as he attempts a smile. “I was thinking that maybe we should go home. Earlier than we were going to. Maybe a couple days into New Years instead of a couple weeks.”

“Is that what you want to do? Go home?”

“Yeah…” he struggles to hold back a flood of tears; uttering a string of profanities and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Don’t do that. Don’t be embarrassed. Just pretend that no one else exists but me. That no one else is here. Just listen to my voice. You’re fine. It’s just your brain, Tyler. Ignore what it is telling you and pay attention to what I’m saying. I’m okay. I’m safe. Because I’m with you. Nothing is going to happen. There’s no one following us, there’s no out to get you, there’s no one that’s going to hurt me. There’s no threat. Everything is okay. Alright?”

Nodding, he takes a deep intake of breath and then releases it slow. “I want to go home.”

“Home as in our place here or…?”

“Home, home. Australia. I want to go home. As soon as we can. I NEED to go home.”

“I’ll change our flight plans. When we get back to the townhouse. I’ll call and set everything up. We’ll leave on the second, okay?”

“But the kids might be pissed. They might…”

“I’ll think of something to tell them. They don’t need to know what’s going on. Don’t worry about that, alright? I’ll take care of everything. I mean, if you really wanted to, we could leave earlier. Ovi knows you’re struggling and…”

“I can’t miss his wedding. I’m the best man. That’s my kid.”

“And he’d understand. If you needed to get out, he would totally have your back. Believe me, he wouldn’t hold it against you if you couldn’t handle it here.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll suck it up and I’ll get through it. We’ll go to the wedding and we’ll have a good time and we’ll have our mommy and daddy only night. Then we can leave. On the second.”

“Okay,” Esme says, and reaches across the table to wipe away an errant tear that slips down his face. “You’re going to be okay.” she promises. “You always are. You’ve fought back against way worse.”

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

Smiling, she pushes her fingers through his. “Enough for both of us.”

[battlestar-royco]

game of thrones final has issues but i'm happy Rhaegar Targaryen was wrong about that prophecy and did all that mess for nothing. this is what he deserve for abandon Elia Martell and their 2 little children lol. of course isn't jon's fault but his biological dad was a trash

Ugh Rhaegar can certainly choke for everything he did to throw the Seven Kingdoms into a warring cesspit for twenty years because he decided to be horny on main for a prophecy. I’m so upset with what the showrunners did to Dorne, the baddest region of the 7K right next to the North (honorable mention for the Riverlands because the Tullys are so underrated). D&D are trash for romanticizing the horrible kidnap of a teenage girl that started a downward spiral of war, treason, murder, power vacuums, and wealth disparity for decades. Elia and the entirety of House Martell deserved so much better than what they got in the show and how they get treated by the fandom. Elia was more than just a disposable love interest for Rhaegar so he could have his little prophecy prince. She was a sister and a mother from a land that advocates for freedom to express sexuality and women’s leadership. The Martells as a house faced centuries of scorn, condescension, and xenophobia from white Westerosi while they minded their business respecting women and eating flavored food. Ned Stark raised his sister’s son alongside his kids to the best of his ability and stepped to the plate when asked to fix the realm that Robert usurped and ruined because of the war. Rhaegar wasn’t shit. He destroyed the economic and political stability of an entire continent and the legacy of his house for what? Nothing. Rest in pieces sweaty.

[actual-ongoing-dumpster-fire]

Things about myself that I hate

My clinginess: I latch onto everyone that treats me decently, and when they can’t feasibly give as much as I’d like, I freak out and spiral downwards into moping and self hatred. Hi, you’ve been even slightly nice to me? Time to see things not there and get attached to you and start to like you as more than a friend. And when that doesn’t work out, I’m going to have a childish breakdown and use unhealthy coping methods and then freak you out with my clinginess and make you draw back some for space and try to set reasonable and healthy boundaries and in response, I’m going to go into a crisis.

My lack of identity: who am I? I can tell you my name, my age, my favorite color. A few of my personality traits. My faults that greatly outnumber my strengths. Things I love. Things I hate. Anything else? Can’t fucking tell you.

My lack of ability to make decisions: I change my mind too easily. I get these little kicks like oh, I’ll do yoga, I’ll start walking, I’ll meditate, I’ll write down my feelings. And then I give up, because I crave instant gratification and immediate results.

My deep desire to fit in somewhere and just belong: Even if I’m surrounded by friends (a rarity these days) I question if I truly belong among them, am I truly loved, do they care as much about me as I do them?

My self criticalness: case in point? I can point out a mile long fucking list of things I hate and otherwise don’t like about myself. Things I like, however, it’s a pretty short fuckin list. And even then, there’s parts of myself that I like that I can find fault with.

My appearance: here I am, thinking all these plus sized women are gorgeous, or these men and women that are unconventional via appearance are beautiful, everyone else is beautiful even with their so-called flaws; and me? I hate how I look. I hate my hair, my weight, my body, my arms, my legs, butt, eyes, nose, skin, lips, feet, hands, I don’t like any of it. I gross myself out by my appearance.

My hypocrisy: I think confidence is beautiful, other people are uniquely beautiful, I can’t stand my own appearance. Those with mental illnesses shouldn’t be stigmatized, I beat myself up and say I want attention and to be coddled. Everybody deserves to be lazy on occasion and recharge, I do it too fucking much. I know what I must change to be happy, but it’s so fucking hard and I don’t know if I can do it, oh you’re making changes, it takes time, you’re making progress other person, don’t beat yourself up! Nothing is sexier than giving the middle finger to society’s and the patriarchy’s expectations of beauty and sexiness and being your uniquely sexy self. Yet I low key want an athletic body but don’t want to work for it. Do I want society to value me as simply a sex object? No but I just wanna feel sexy, dammit.

My lack of talent and passion: I like video games, and writing, and creating shit. Does that mean I’m any good at it? Fuck no. I suck at all of these and everything lol. And no, I don’t have the energy or motivation to be putting in the effort to practice and get better.

My only talent? Setting myself up for failure.

[katymacsupernatural]

Second Thoughts Part 2

Jensen Ackles x Reader

1700 Words

Story Summary: Planning your wedding, you’re not sure you’re marrying the right man. 

Catch Up Here: Part 1

“Listen, I don't have another appointment until this evening. How about I treat you to a cup of coffee,” Jensen suggested. “No judgement, just an ear of you need one.”

“Why?” You asked, not believing that this handsome, successful photographer could be willing to help you out. At least not without a price in return.

“I like you Y/N. And I hate to see you settling with an ass like Hunter. And I really think you could use a friend right now. Someone that's unbiased.”

“And you can be unbiased about this?”

Running his hand through his hair, he finally shook his head no, just as you suspected. “I'll try. But Y/N, I've been around guys like that before, and he's not right for you. But I will keep my mouth shut and listen. Because that's what you need right now.”

“I'd like that,” you spoke softly.

“We can leave your car here if you want, or you can meet me.”

“I'll drive,” you told him, wanting the chance to be alone and get your thoughts together.

“Okay. I'll follow you down, meet at Grams?” He asked.

“I love Grams. They have the best cinnamon rolls,” you exclaimed, beaming up at him.

“You should smile more often, it really suits you,” he told you. “And you definitely deserve a cinnamon roll.”

Climbing into your car, you let Jensen go on ahead, wondering if you were doing the right thing. The more time you spent with Jensen, the more you found yourself liking the man. Wishing that Hunter could be even half as considerate.

Sure, you had known Hunter for a long time. It had been pretty much decided while you were in high school that the two of you would marry and raise a family together. Your parents were friends, they ran in the same circles, and it had always been set in stone. Hunter had gone with it every step of the way. The dutiful boyfriend who took you to the prom, proposed to you on Valentine’s Day with the flashy diamond ring. Never extremely affectionate, he had always kissed you on the cheek, taken you out to fancy dinners. Lovemaking with him had been calculated, often leaving you wanting more.

Before you realized it, you were pulling into a parking spot in front of Grams. It was the local pastry shop, a place you didn’t visit as often as you wished. Appearance had been very important to Hunter as well as your families, meaning you had to eat at the fancier restaurants. But you didn’t like that. You loved homestyle, relaxed with people who cared more about your personality than what was in your wallet.

Ready to climb out, you grabbed your phone, checking it as you went to lock your car. It was a text from Hunter, and you were amazed that such simple words could turn your life upside down. “Hey baby, it worked. The photos are postponed, and I’m all yours for the rest of the day.”

Dropping your hand down, you closed your eyes, leaning against your car. You should have known, or realized. Sure, your relationship had never been steamy or perfect, but it had been consistent. But you should have seen the way he slowly continued to pull away. The fact that he hadn’t touched you for almost a month should have been a giveaway. But you had been so busy planning your wedding that you hadn’t even thought.

“Y/N, you ready for the best cinnamon...what’s wrong?” Jensen asked, his firm grip on your shoulder breaking you from your downward spiral.

Without a word you handed him your phone with that text still on the screen. You waited for the I told you so, knowing he had every right to say it. Knowing there was no reason to be around him anymore. After all, you wouldn’t need a wedding photographer anymore.

“That bastard. Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Jensen spoke up, pulling you into his embrace. It was warm, and inviting, and smelled like woodsy aftershave. “I know I kept saying you were better off without him, but I hate that it’s like this.”

“I just wonder how long,” you whispered, snuggling deeper into his embrace, his arms tightening around you.

“Listen, let’s head inside. We’ll get you that coffee, and a cinnamon roll and…”

“Jensen, I don’t want to go inside,” you argued. “People will notice and talk, and I really just want to be somewhere private.”

He had already pulled back, and you could see the look of disappointment on his face. “If that’s what you want.”

“With you?”

He nodded then, seeming a little relieved at your words. “Why don’t you climb into my car. I’ll get our food, and then I know of a place we could go.”

Doing as he suggested, you watched as he went into the restaurant, before you pulled out your phone. Dialing Hunter’s phone number, you weren’t surprised when it went straight to voicemail. “Hunter, I just wanted to tell you that you sent that message to the wrong person. Me. So I guess that means our wedding is over. Have fun with whoever she is, and I’ll move my stuff out as soon as I can. But Hunter, how could you?”

Hanging up the phone, you let the tears fall, but they weren’t for mourning your relationship. If anything you were relieved. But it was a let down. A reminder that you had wasted so many years of your life with a man who had never been the one.

The door open and Jensen landed in his car with a thud. “We were in luck. They had four cinnamon rolls left.”

“Four?” You asked, hastily wiping away your tears.

“Yeah, I figured one wasn’t going to be enough,” he told you, pulling away from the restaurant. “So, I hope you don’t mind, but I thought we could head back to my place. Let my dog out, you can relax there for as long as you want.”

“Okay,” you agreed, leaning your head against the window as he drove.

His house was on the outskirts of town, the creek running behind it. It was a simple, one story ranch style house. Pulling into the garage, he grabbed the drinks and rolls, holding the door open for you. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

The inside was done in neutral colors, with pictures covering most of the walls. Toeing your shoes off, you peered at each picture, amazed with how beautiful they were. “Are these yours?” You asked as he handed you your coffee.

“I wasn’t sure how you took it, so I got you vanilla. I hope that’s okay. And yes, these are mine.”

“They’re beautiful,” you spoke softly, a lake picture catching your eye. “Why don’t you stick with these and not the wedding ones?”

“Wedding photos pay more,” he explained. “These are my true passion, but taking marriage photos pays the bills.”

Settling down the couch, you watched as he sat down next to you. “How are you doing?”

“I’m a little numb,” you admitted. “I should be devastated, but I just can’t help but feel relieved.”

“Then you know that no matter how this happened, the relationship was a sham.”

“I did call him, and called off the marriage,” you told him. “But I guess what gets me the most is how much time I wasted with him. I could have been out there, finding someone who really loved me. Instead I was stuck with a man who couldn’t wait to find someone else to warm his bed. And what if she wasn’t the first?”

“You’re better off without him, just like I said in the beginning. It doesn’t matter how many other women there was. That guy is an ass, and you deserve better. At least you realized it before you actually went through the marriage.”

“I just don’t know what I’m going to tell everyone,” you muttered, just as your phone buzzed. Hunter’s name was on the screen, and you just tossed your phone to the far side of the couch, not in the mood to deal with him.

Jensen handed you the cinnamon roll on a plate, and you dug in, trying to figure out what was going to happen with your life. You’d have to find a new place to live, and fast. You’d probably stay away from your family for a while, knowing how upset they would be.

“I don’t think you should have to worry about that. If they’re your family, they’ll be there whatever decision you make.”

“I wish my family was like that,” you sighed. “But they’ve been planning this for a long time, and they won’t take this news well. But I need to go get my stuff, find a new place to stay.”

“Listen, this might sound weird, but it feels like I’ve known you for a while now. And I have a spare bedroom that I was thinking of renting out. Seems like the perfect opportunity,” Jensen told you before stuffing his mouth full of cinnamon roll.

“Are you seriously too good to be true?” You asked, reaching over and pinching him. “You came into my life when I needed a friend, and you’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” He whispered, and you nodded. “Well, when you came walking into my office, I immediately felt connected to you. I knew you weren’t with the right guy, and I wanted the right guy to be me. I knew it was wrong, wanting someone who was engaged. But seeing how crappy Hunter treated you? That made me realize that maybe my feelings weren’t that wrong after all.”

“Jensen..,” you started, but he wasn’t finished.

“Now listen. I know we haven’t known each other very long. And you’re just getting out of a really long relationship. But I want to be at your side, and hopefully we can move from friends into something more.”

Read Part 3

Second Thoughts Tags:  @beltzboys2015-blog

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acreativelydifferentlove @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @anokhi07 @aubreystilinski @bebravekeeponfighting @brindz30 @colette2537 @crusadedean @darthshreydar @deanwinchesters-impala67-deacti @haelyn @horsegirly99 @ikeneasul11 @its-not-a-tulpa @just-another-winchester @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @librarygeekery @msimpala67 @love-charmer-sketch @pisces-cutie @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @shadowhunter7 @sizzlingbearpolice @sleep-silent-angel @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @torn-and-frayed @wonderfulworldofwinchester

Forever Tags(CLOSED); 

@16wiishes @4401lnc @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @angelsandwinchesters @anspgene @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @bemyqueenofdarkness @bohowitch @buckysmetalgoddamnarm @bumber-car-s @brooke-supernatural16  @brunettechick @camelotandastronauts @captainradicalpassion @chelsea072498 @clairese1980 @captainemwinchester @darthdeziewok @destiels-new-girl @donnaintx @dont-you-dare-say-misha @dslocum89 @duckieburns @docharleythegeekqueen @emmazach @emilicious-7 @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @esoltis280 @essie1876 @generalgoldfishldrm @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @herbologystudent252 @heyitscam99 @highfunctioning-soiciopath @hms-fangirl @hobby27 @ichooseeternalplaces @imboredsueme @internationalmusicteacher @ithinkimadorable-67 @iwriteaboutdean  @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busy-fangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @keelzy2 @leanbeankeane @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice @luciferslucille @maui137 @mellowlandrunaway @mogaruke @nanie5 @natashacamillaus @newtospnfandom @offbeatsilhouette @percussiongirl2017 @pilaxia @pizzarollpatrol @plaid-lover-bay25 @ronja-uebrick @rosegoldquintis @roxyspearing @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @smoothdogsgirl @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @sunskittlex @starry-chaos @superbadassnatural @thebikiniinspector @theflameontheinside @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @tina8009 @totallovelesson @tunadean @vvinch3st3r @walkslikesummeractslikerain @whimsicalrobots @wildlandfox @winchesterbrothers-inc @winchesterxtwo @winchester-writes @worldwidehansum @zombiewerewolfqueen

[whoneedsgodwhenyouhavejkrol-blog]

I think I know how the Marauders Map ended up in Filch’s office.

Filch had been at Hogwarts under the title of Caretaker from approximately 1973, which was - coincidentally - two years after the Marauders begin their residency at Hogwarts themselves. Rather than being the long-suffering if torture-obsessed squib that most of us think of him as, I recently read @wizardlogic and his art history purist version of regular old Filch which I LOVE>>>>

Anyway, I know HPWiki goes on to theorise that it was Snape (subtle) who was the ultimate betrayer of the magical map and passed it into the hands of an otherwise controlling and under-qualified abuser. I seek to dispute this with a possibly projective, emotionally strung and fairly assumptive rebuttal. Thank you fo reading thus far. *High five*

As much as the word  a l w a y s  still brings more than a single tear to my eye, I feel strongly for every single woman who’s had a beloved friend abuse their relationship by pressing unwarranted feelings, leaned into a dangerous vice or group of friends against better judgement, been fighting their own demons without succumbing to the “dark side” of this friend and even been willing to lay down their life to help them only to be hurt. 

Hurt people hurt people you know? I know these people. These people have hurt and maybe even scarred me. I still love these people. It’s a soft spot you want to protect. You want to protect them. It literally NEVER ENDS. You know the theory that at the time of their murder, Lily was pregnant? You know that same theory that says Lily and Severus had made a tentative amends and he was named godfather of the new little fluttering snitch in Lily’s womb? That’s what I mean! It’s like no matter whether Snape was  turning a new leaf, or being manipulative, or if he was being manipulated by others - any sincerity no matter how manufactured, would have worked on Lily. She had so many well-intentioned sister inclinations that were being unfulfilled by a sister who had cut her out, she had such a strong need for family, and Snape was her family too, no matter how poorly he treated her it would be the same way Lily would have forgiven Petunia in an instant. It’s why we love the Marauders, but we love the Marauders plus Lily even more. 

Family isn’t always nice. They know the boundaries with each other. They know when breaking them will hurt; like Mudblood spilled across the grass. We may not have ever met her in the pages of Harry Potter’s life properly - she wasn’t even 22 years old when she died - I’m no doubt projecting, but I know that fiery red-head wouldn’t have let the embarrassment of that nerve-edged afternoon go without her own kid of punishment. At the time of the big fight we remember from the flashback James’ threat of removing Snape’s undergarments (another trans-theory I have a particularly fond affinity for) - we remember Lily’s disgust at being blackmailed into saving her friend from any further humiliation, and then her heartbreak and anger at being attacked in a different way - from an unlikely source hanging in her mind in wait for her defence. She’s sure to recover, the word isn’t new and she’s very familiar with the new crowd her friend is spending more and more time around. It’s only a gut feeling and it’s NO WHERE NEAR the kind of horrific return of the not distant-enough fear of Grindelwald’s dogma which would have seen her family enslaved and herself treated possibly with a kind of suspicion that was really a very real metaphor of the same Cold War we were  experiencing in the muggle world. She was scared but not scared enough. She felt responsible not only for Snape’s treatment but also by his downward spiral - possibly a metaphor for the same depression Jo tried to inspire with a Dementor literally years later. 

Lily is a loving, empathetic but more importantly, a JUST person. Remember that her most defining quality is being a Gryffindor - they are just, they don’t care about rules - they care about justice. Lily is the one person who feels that she can see both sides - both faces of Severus Snape, a boy she loves fiercely like a brother, who she feels responsible for, who she feels a familiarity which entitles her to serve  justice not just to him - but also in his defence. Remember she might have a strong and loving friendship already with Lupin/Sirius (and Peter? Very little fanfic seems to be written on THAT potential character-shattering-death-induced-heartbreak???) *BUT* she still has a pretty big wall up ready for James, a boy who is not just partaking in an adolescent rivalry with a brother she cares deeply for, but a sensitivity for a version of herself, who misses her sister and who resides, without her obvious realisation, in this child-hood friend.

Lily has never been afraid of anything except the fear of losing those who she loves, and even then she was a force to be reckoned with which I’m sure we can all agree with. How else to truely reap the kind of justice she was seeking on behalf of her friend, no matter how estranged, but to weasel her way into the perpetrator’s life and find a truely sweet way to punish his emotional abuse of her? It may have been the 70s, but women have held a sort of collective rage at being expected to resist the urge to react with whatever indifference, hurt, pain or disgust felt from unwelcome advances because of society especially in public for long enough that I’m surprised we don’t all sport red hair as metaphor to this collective furnace of rage building within. Asking her to date him in lieu of her friend’s public humiliation? She would definitely be going one better. She already had a hunch that there was a secret between those four boys and she was too controlling of her own emotions to allow the hurt of that w o r d to get in the way of her scheming. All she would be doing was exacting the same justice that James whateverthehellwasinthatfuckingmessofhair’shead Potter deserved.

It didn’t matter that she couldn’t yet imagine a future where she would speak to Severus again, it didn’t matter that James’ best friends were boys she too had begun to think of as her own friends. It frankly didn’t cross her mind that what they were doing was protecting each other with this thing they were obviously hiding, let alone protecting only one in their midst. O H NO. She was single minded to the point of clarity. Only one would be going down and she had just the womanly wiles to get this job done.

[writevswrong]

Eris Fanfic * When The Last Ember Falls * Chapter Ten

When The Last Ember Falls by L.J. LaFleur

Nesta:  

I had felt the distance intruding, expanding. A blackhole in the light of our bond, smothering my flames out. I felt him wither away after announcing ourselves as mates.

I thought it was supposed to be the opposite. I thought we would be like Rhysand and Feyre, a bond that would never break nor shatter under the pressure of life. What foolish dreams to have.  

“Will you stop shutting me out, Cassian? Stop pushing me away,” I cried in the empty alley on our shortcut back to the townhouse. We had spent the majority of our night out in Velaris. A feeble attempt to regain normalcy after two wars and Ronan.  

Cassian shook his head, venom slipping off his tongue, “I do not need to be coddled, Nes.”

My body vibrated with anger, the bastard knew I loathed being called Nes yet he persisted in calling me that whenever we would start to bicker. “Stop calling me, Nes. You know I hate it,” I swore beneath my breath.

“Just as I hate being asked if I’m okay a dozen times a night!” He snarled, slamming his fist into the brick wall of the nearest building. Beneath his flickering syphon, I saw a thin crack shoot up to the roof. Fragments of brick and dust rained down on us.    

I stepped back, my breath shallow, “what is your problem?” Every man, every beast who had ever brought me harm had morphed into my beloved. I saw their faces, I heard their laughter. I tried to shake my head to rid myself of the memories but nothing changed.

Liquor coated his tongue as he viciously attacked, “you are always asking me to talk about my feelings. Did you ever think I don’t want to? That I’m perfectly fine? That you’re the one with the problems?”

This snapped me out of my nightmares, “how could you say that?”

His expression hardened, his hands raising in frustration, “because I’m sick, I’m so gods-damn sick of being treated like a broken man by you.”

Tears streamed down my face, my voice sounding farther and farther away as I took another step back, “we are all broken, Cassian.”

“No, you’re broken. You’re damaged goods, Nesta.”

“Take it back…”

Cassian snarled, ponds of hazel igniting, “I will not.”

“If you think of me as damaged goods, as property,” anger fueled my closing line, “then you are not the man I fell in love with.” I attempted to glare, to scare him speechless—I should know better by now.

“That man died on the battlefield, expecting that he returned whole is naïve, even for you,” he heaved into the air, wings of fire igniting as he flew towards the stars.

I felt the heartbreak in my chest, the sharp pain of losing him. My knees buckled beneath me as I covered my trembling mouth. I attempted to silence the sobs but failed in my quest.

It had only been days and this is what we’ve come to.  

The seed of my being, the little flame that remained felt like it was fading. An ember being smothered by his words of steel. I held onto my shoulders, rocking back and forth as I cried. This was no place to release my emotions, not here in public—certainly not in a dirty alleyway.

Instead of taking the remainder of the shortcut, I walked through the silent streets of Velaris. Taking the long way to the townhouse, I attempted to pick up what little pieces remained of my heart. I didn’t want to face him, I didn’t want another apology.

Did he not think that I too was suffering? That he maybe died, but it was me who watched him? I fought for him. I fought against one of my greatest fears—Ronan—nearly losing my sister in the process. Was I not enough of a reason to fight? Was I not enough?

Heading closer to the river, a frigid wind crashed into me. I crossed my arms to conserve heat, completely forgetting that all I needed to do was wrap myself in flames. Searching my heart, I willed what pieces of flames I could.  

As I kept walking, my mind ventured to the past. To how Velaris didn’t feel any more like home than the mansion Tamlin had gifted us as humans did. This place has its beauty, but isn’t beauty in the eye of the beholder?

I hated it here. Every street, every forsaken mountain of this court. This was Feyre’s home, not mine.    

I entered the quiet townhouse, one similar in size and decoration to Rhysand and Feyre’s. Only this one was down several blocks from theirs and didn’t have as large of a garden. It was a gift from the High Lord to Cassian many years ago, at least that’s what they told me.  

Half expecting Cassian to be waiting up to apologize, I realized my feet had stopped moving at the bottom of the stairs. I took a heavy breath, hoping to find some strength in the stagnate air. I didn’t but I proceeded up the stairs anyways.

We fought constantly, as if we hadn’t done enough fighting in the past few months. What should I have expected from him? Flowers and a love note? That wasn’t Cassian even before his death. I was only a fool to think so.

The faelights brightened with my presence, unveiling our empty bedroom.

My brows pulled together, the pain in my chest persisting. It felt like my entire being, my light was dying. That bastard, comparing me to property—how could he? Amber tears flooded my view as I laid my head against the pillow. I didn’t know I had anything left to cry.

I’m so fucking sick of crying.

For hours I stared at the open drawers where his clothing was once stored. Eventually I looked in the bathroom, hoping for a sign that he would need to come back. He had taken every belonging of his.

I had given my heart and Cassian, the bastard warrior, shattered it.  

A short knock on the door stirred me from my downward spiral. I quickly wiped the drops of amber, recognizing Bea’s knock. “You have a letter,” she announced, sounding muffled through the door.

“Come in,” my shaken voice commanded.

Bea’s bulbous black eyes flickered to the empty bed, diverting from the open drawers she handed me a neatly folded parchment. “A letter from the Vanserra’s, it just arrived.”

I hadn’t heard from Eris since he left, not that he needed to check in. I just, I didn’t know what to say to him after he winnowed away. I wasn’t good at goodbyes, especially with those I did not want to say goodbye to.

I snatched the letter, nearly tearing it in half as I ripped off the metallic wax. I skimmed the letter, stuck on the same sentence that had stunned my aching heart still.

Eris, my son and your dear friend, has been gravely wounded.

The sickening swirl of bile climbed up my esophagus, the room spun around me. I needed to leave, to, to…I couldn’t think. I didn’t think as I stuffed random belongings into my leather satchel.

“Will, will you please inform my sis, sisters,” I stammered, unable to process what I was doing and saying at the same time. I glanced to my concerned friend, “that I will be returning to the Autumn Court.”

Bea remained in the doorway, her gentle voice bringing little comfort, “when shall I tell them you’ll be back?”

I finished packing my bag, running to the bathing room for last minute items. I replied over my shoulder, “I, um, I’m not sure. Just please. I need to go.”

“And the Lord Commander?”

Digging my talons into the counter, I shot back, “I doubt he will notice.” Instantly regretting how harsh I sounded, I stopped what I was doing to breathe. “I’m sorry, Bea,” I apologized, staring at the empty bathtub while I felt piece after piece of my broken heart crack.

She bowed, her attention glued to the wooden floor as I headed to the roof.

I had no choice but to fly. I couldn’t winnow unless I wanted to possibly bump into Ronan. But if I turned into a Gryphon…

I dropped my satchel, shredding my indigo dress as I transformed. Digging my talons into the tiled floor with ease, I launched into the sky. Heading south to be beside the only friend who had stood with me in my darkest of days.  

 I didn’t take a break or drop in speed. I would keep going until I fell out of the sky. Invading thoughts of his death, of not being there in time only induced the pain in my body.

I can’t lose him too.

I can’t.  

Wrapping my wings around my face, I crashed through the window of Eris’ bedroom. I landed on all fours before transforming back into my human—fae self. The fragments of my heart nearly perished as I stared at Eris.

He laid still, his lips tinted blue.  

“Is he alive?” I croaked, glimpsing from him to the two women on the opposite side of his bed. One I knew as the Lady of Autumn and the other…well, I didn’t know her. I desperately searched their eyes, waiting for the truth to surface.

The woman I didn’t recognize spoke first, “you must be Nesta.”

“Is he alive?” I demanded, my voice colder than before. Talons shot out of my fingertips, I would shred her into ribbons if she didn’t answer my damn question.

The armored woman stepped around the bed, her hand placed on the decorated hilt of her sword, “if you’re not Nesta, then who are you?”

Eris’ mother spoke up, “stand down, guardian.” The Lady of Autumn greeted me with a subtle bow, “it’s good to have you back, King Slayer.” She looked from me to her son, brushing a strand of auburn from his face, “he’s hanging on,” she answered calmly.

I hurried to his side, light pouring from my eyes. I could see the delayed movement of his chest, the single tear slipping out of the corner of his closed eyes. He was okay—alive.

The guardian moved away, I could feel her examining every naked inch of me. “Would you like some spare clothing?” she asked politely.

I couldn’t speak, my mouth frozen from the outpour of emotion. I lost Cassian, that I would accept in time. I had lost him on the battlefield, just as he said.

But Eris.

The friend who protected me from his own family, who showed me kindness when I did not deserve it…

I didn’t know how long it had been since the other women vacated his chambers. I didn’t hear them nor speak to them. I didn’t care if they stayed or left.

Brushing my fingers against Eris’ limp hand, I realized how cold he must be. After all, I did just take out his window.

I drained an orb of fire into my fingertips, willing it to move towards his chest. The light sunk into his hidden wound. Red and orange swirls of patterns moved throughout his cold skin at a rapid pace. His hand instantly warming within mine.

“I only hope you can hear me,” I prayed, “and if you can’t…” the lump in my throat expanded, “then I hope whoever watches over this world is listening.” I rubbed my thumb against his warm, scarred knuckles, “save him, as he saved me. You will not regret it,” I whimpered.

*Link list is coming! Promise. :)

[brainnovation]

ADHD & Learning Difficulties – Boy or Girl Problem?

The century we live in today is known to be a dynamic age for women. From receiving the opportunities, they were long deprived of the right to live free from violence, slavery, and discrimination; to be educated; to own property; to vote, and to earn a fair and equal wage – are all considered modern-day advances for women specifically. With impressive progress, women’s rights have gained tremendous awareness, and finally, the vision of seeing women achieving equality is in near sight. But is it so? Has earned the same wage and owning property given women the rights they deserve? Does the definition include equality in the number of attention girls with learning difficulties will receive? Have we triumphed on the surface with darkness still lurking beneath?

According to the statistics, the ratio of boys identified with ADHD compared to girls is twice. What is causing the difference is not because boys are more prone to have ADHD, their signs are more evident and hence noticed easily. Chances of those girls growing up – with the same attention issues, damaging their self-esteem, unable to cope with daily tasks – will still be unidentified even in the later years.

This usually happens because boys and girls usually have different ways of expression. One might express hurt by crying and one by disruption, but the root cause remains the same. Similarly, attention difficulties, reading or writing disabilities are also exhibited differently and hence often misunderstood in women. A silent but zoned-out girl is equally struggling as a naughty and distracting boy. However, his behavior is noticed and treated but her problems are labeled as ‘girl problems’. This blind eye towards gender limits opportunities for countless capable women in all domains of work and life.

Hiding a disability at work is especially tough, women forgetting deadlines or unable to focus on a meeting will automatically blame it on their physiology, never would it occur to them that the problem isn’t in their capability and that their situation can be treated as simply as a little training in the right direction. Not being able to put a finger on the problem can create even bigger problems for them.

Fact: One in six women with learning disabilities has attempted suicide, according to a University of Toronto study. What if women with learning disabilities stopped hiding their true selves?

More people would connect with them, they would fail less, rise faster, and not feel so utterly misunderstood. Think about it: their biggest successes come from the relationships they build. When those relationships are tested, – women in particular – start to feel dramatically less capable. Not seeing yourself as able is a vicious downward spiral that makes you feel utterly helpless. It’s depressing. And it has to change.

The first step is to identify it and bravely admit it. Not only are women likely to hide their dyslexia, ADHD, anxiety, or other learning difficulties at work, but they are also likely to hide it from their friends. We have to stop them from believing that they are not made to participate in the workforce or build a healthy family. They can be exceptional mothers and teachers, especially the ones who can relate to other struggling students and be the adult for those children – they never got!

A few ways by which we can identify girls (or boys with un-obvious signs) with ADHD or other learning difficulties:

Hyperactivity, or excessive movement that doesn’t fit the situation

Impulsivity, or a tendency to act hastily and without thinking through the consequences

Problems staying focused on tasks such as schoolwork and classroom lectures

Hyperactivity in girls tends to show up as constant chattiness. All these behaviors are typical of girls who don’t have ADHD as well, so a teacher isn’t as likely to flag a girl who has them as having ADHD or a learning problem.

Knowing the signs in both genders, together, you and the teacher should be able to recognize whether your child is struggling with an LD or ADHD so that you can move forward to have him or her tested.

OUR ROLE:

Girls with attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) suffer from a deficit of attention themselves – from both their parents and the media. Brainnovation aims to spread that awareness for all the struggling children and adults out there and offer hope that Brain Training can bring for them. Sometimes knowing the ‘why’ behind the issue makes you realize you are not alone, and such problems can be fixed by merely reaching out.

Original blog posted here - https://brainnovation.ae/adhd-learning-difficulties-boy-or-girl-problem/

[lewepstein]

How to Treat Your PTSD  (Post Trump Stress Disorder)

I wonder how many people reading this post have said to themselves or others, “When I listen to or watch President Trump it feels like I’m in an abusive relationship.”  You don’t need to be a student of psychology to know that his overt hostility and his hateful, verbal attacks are designed to inflict pain and humiliate people.  But Isn’t this exactly what abusive, toxic males have always been accused of doing?  Trump’s hyper-aggressive, threatening tone often reminds people of someone from their past - perhaps a rageful father, but more often an insecure and manipulative partner whose selfishness and arrogance knows few limits.  The quality that Trump shares with other weak and bullying men is his need to control others.  He will lie, cheat and intimidate in order to achieve his narcissistic whims.  Abusers like Trump see all who challenge them as threats and harbor a thinly disguised contempt for their victims.

One could argue that we as American citizens aren’t in an “actual” relationship with Trump and therefore why should his behaviors be experienced as abusive?  I believe the answer to that question lies in our symbolic relationship to leaders and the way that they key into our  deepest connections to parents, teachers and other adults from our formative years. The personas and behaviors of presidents, governors and others in positions of authority connect with our primal needs to feel safe and be cared for.

Donald Trump may seem quite familiar to people who grew up with a certain kind of father and learned  to tolerate and accommodate his controlling nature. Some may experience his behaviors as “normal,” having come to make excuses for things they felt powerless to challenge or to change. They may have identified with the aggressor and received  “rewards,” both practical and emotional for going along with the demands that he made and for keeping the peace.   Others may have lived with the disempowering behaviors of these types of fathers and partners and drawn lines in the sand signifying that they would never tolerate this type of behavior again.  We have all been victims of patriarchy in one form or another but there is a profound difference between those men and women  who listened to the Access Hollywood tape in which Trump boasted about “grabbing women’s pussies”  and said, “boys will be boys” versus those who said, “This is abusive and assaultive behavior and is unacceptable on every level.”

The reason I think many of us will require a post-Trump recovery period is that we have all been subjected to four years of abusive language, hostile imagery and threatening behaviors and policies.  We have lived in fear of a leader who has often seemed unhinged and has been willing to act out his selfish wishes to the detriment of the rest of us.  Whether it is his twenty thousand false or misleading statements - abusive men believe they have a right to lie - his willingness to have a nuclear standoff with Kim Jong un, his mimicking of a journalist with a disability, his current, implicit threat to unleash violence if he loses the presidential election or his bringing federal forces into cities to intimidate racial justice protesters, these are just a few of the many trauma inducing behaviors of a man who has had power over our lives and whom we could not simply divorce or walk away from.

 As Trump mishandled the pandemic to suit his whims and the bodies began to pile up, symbolic abuse became genocide by neglect and certain vulnerable groups were clearly expendable to him.  Trump’s politicizing of mask wearing and his modeling machismo in the face of a killer virus leaves the blood of as many as one hundred thousand Americans on his hands.  His catastrophic failure of leadership has severely damaged the American economy, disabling small businesses and depleting jobs in numbers that could have been avoided had the initial handling of the pandemic been run by experts and not politicized. The documented differences in managing the pandemic by certain countries in Asia - notably Taiwan and Vietnam - is so stark when compared to the United States that all Trump can do is try to to deflect and distract from his abject failure.

So how can we best deal with our Post Trump Stress Disorder?  First, we need to get to a post-Trump era. We need to use our collective power at the ballot box to leave this abusive relationship and also leave Trump behind.  We need to get him out of his position of presidential authority and thereby out of our heads.  And even if he still has the power to stir up trouble he will no longer have the “bully” pulpit.  Post election, he may be  kept busy as he is pursued by prosecutors for his illegal deals and his many abuses of  power and finance.

The symptoms that we may be left with from the Trump era that mimic the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that results from other abusive relationships are anger, anxiety, mood problems, a high degree of vigilance, flashbacks and trust issues.  Some might be left with shame or guilt, feeling on some level that they should have been able to prevent this.  And, as with those who have been taken in by a cult leader, some will believe that they got what they deserved.

The behavioral part of our PTSD therapy has to do with disempowering the abuser and doing whatever possible to not let political conditions deteriorate to the point where a demagogue again comes to power.  If hypervigilance is one of the negative byproducts of abuse then it needs to be replaced by political vigilance. Thomas Jefferson said that, “Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty.”  I pledge to continue to participate in and contribute to groups like Indivisible and Move On, but not just around election time.  I will not never make the mistake again of taking a break from political action just because a Democrat has been elected to higher office.

The “victim” in an abusive relationship is often suffering from what is called “learned helplessness” and hopelessness.  It is a core part of depression and often includes anger that has been turned inward against the self.  If we can identify the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness we have experienced during this era of Trump along wth the outrage behind it, then we may be able to mitigate what can become a downward spiral in our moods.     

The cognitive approach to overcoming the emotional burdens of an abusive relationship involves challenging or disputing certain thoughts.  There is a kind of brainwashing that comes with an abusive partner, especially a narcissist such as Trump who needs to mold people and reality to suit his needs.  The sheer repetition of certain lies can bring us to question what is true and to doubt our own reality. The thought that “there must be something true about what the abuser is saying,” can begin to seep in.  Having a core group of like minded friends along with intimate relationships that validate facts and uphold opinions that challenge the abuser’s worldview are critical to mental health.  This especially applies to  the historical period we have been living through that includes Trump’s reign of terror and whatever will be its aftermath.

We should all be aware of our “all or nothing thinking” as a response to having lived under a repressive regime.  Seeing the world as “either-or” and “all or nothing” is an understandable response to an extreme and authoritarian leader.  It may take time to get back to more nuanced thinking and not responding  reflexively to what may be meaningful differences.  The more Trump has been experienced by us as an existential threat, the more we need to be aware of the intensity of our thoughts and feelings.

If we find ourselves flinching a little when we listen to or watch the news over the next year, understand that this is the normal response of people who have been exposed to or witnessed emotional abuse in a relationship which they could not extricate themselves from.  We may also be reacting from our own traumatic history -  it makes sense that our PTSD may have been triggered and compounded due to the emotionally abusive relationship that we have been forced to endure over the past four years with our president.   We will all need to heal from what we have been living through and I include in that assessment  the “cult followers” who cheered on the cruelty and abuse that Trump meted out.  All of this will require profound changes in the way we view the political world and the ways that we respond to it.  It reveals to us once again how often what is thought to be political and that which is seen as “personal” intersect.  

[patron-saint-of-lost-cause]

@musuniverse this time I’m gonna start a new post before we get to the lengths of a holy scripture.

I never looked at ubbe that way. like I never thought that he’d try to be a parent. I only saw him trying to be a big brother (after all he is the only one actually worried about ivar’s emotional state; which is totally understandable; like dude just axed his bro) but you have a solid point there. he tries to be a father figure bc who else (besides floki) ivar got? bjorn doesn’t seem to really be there for them. at least not in the midseason finale of 4A. (which I understand; dude got his own fam and maybe bc bjorn did not grow up with them; he was already a man when he came back to kattegatt and after that he didn’t have any time to actually play with children due to fucking up england and francia; so he doesn’t have any deep connection to them?; I mean like look at them. they almost interact like strangers or like acquaintances but certainly not like brothers)

that’s something that always kind of fascinated me about the sons of ragnar. except ubbe and hvitserk none of them act brotherly towards each other. like sure we got that scene were they all lie on their backs and talk or where they decide to help ivar getting fucked, but besides that? okay sure ubbe and hvitserk seemed pretty angry the least when ivar killed sigurd but... I don’t know that’s it (oh and how bjorn did not really react to that at all; or at least I don’t remember his reaction; like lol guess I should just get as far away from the cripple as possible) I understand bjorn’s distance because they are his half brothers and he like really didn’t have any time to bond with them but the other four? they grew up together and still they are more like friends at best. (maybe it also has something to do with aslaug only focusing on ivar and ragnar never being there for them?)

yeah, like seriously dude. I want to see torvi treated like she deserves to be treated. I mean okay bjorn isn’t the worst of the worst. he treated her pretty decently (but like dude cheated on her and never married her so) but still I wanna see ubbe asking torvi to marry him and love her like she deserves to be cause she is so damn loyal and I love her development. oh and talking about that lagertha scene. I just realized ubbe was sitting between torvi and magrethe in that scene before lagertha came and shooed margrethe away, leaving ubbe sitting next to torvi. like maybe that was some kind of foreshadowing (tbh due to several disappointments in my life I’m never sure how clever tv writers actually are). ubbe ends up with torvi and margrethe gets exiled or killed by lagertha? sex with margrethe must be real good if they though it was love. damn girl knows some tricks in bed. yeah ragnar’s bloodline doesn’t seem to be into monogamy that much. except rollo. rollo seems like he’s doing a pretty good job at this point. at least as far as we know.

I think the women have like some secret kind of dwell they bath in that keeps them young. like if lagertha survives this season she’ll still look like she looked in season one when ivar is like a 56 year old man. I love how lagertha is bjorn’s mother and is probably like at least 20 years older but due to bjorn looking like a crusty old man they could actually be the same age. oh and btw bjorn - I’m still angry how bjorn didn’t actually care for his daughter and we never saw him get angry at aslaug for just letting her die. like I’m pretty sure sigurd told bjorn what happened (depends on how much bjorn believes a little child over an adult but okay) and I think sigurd is like the only one who really cared about siggy? like that’s why he was so bitter all the time because in that time were hvitserk and ubbe were away siggy became like his only sibling? I don’t know. just a lil headcanon of mine I guess.

hold on a sec. this just came into my mind. we know how lagertha is going to be killed by a ragnarsson and we all expect it to be this lil war and that it will be ivar. but I think she might survive a little longer (even though hirst already send her into a downward spiral and we know how that never means  something good *cough* ragnar *cough*) and maybe it isn’t ivar at all. sure people already thought about that bc it is too obvious and it’s probably going to be ubbe (bc well he has more chances to do so doesn’t he?) but maybe - if the gods will so - hirst was clever enough and thought nah this is also too obvious. so who got we left? bjorn and hivtserk. sure lagertha is bjorn’s mother so why would he kill her but okay wait let’s say it isn’t bjorn for the sake of the first theory. we only got hvitserk left at this part (as far as sigurd’s ass doesn’t turn into the walking dead). so it’s not logical at all cause we don’t have any indication that this could happen but hear me out. hvitserk’s patience seems to wear thinner and thinner with his brothers treatments of him. so maybe as the least likely to crave for power he just kills her (don’t ask me when and how just go with it) and he becomes to king of kattegatt (which would probably be a pretty short lived reigned cause he doesn’t seem to have any supporters who would fight for him and that’s why I don’t think this could actually happen except hirst has another illogical plot twist planned for us) OR the killed by a ragnarsson is a metaphor and bjorn actually “kills” lagertha because she sacrifices herself for him in battle or the like. which would be way more shocking and dramatic.

PS: If you reading this hirst I have no hard feelings if you steal my idea. just give us something good.

[ramblesofadreamerofthestars]

Therapy? In The Final Season of  The 100??

It’s more likely then any of us ever thought??????

Spoilers of course for the 100 7.07

Dr. Eric Jackson said “is anyone going to treat Literally Everyone for the trauma we go through” and had to wait seven seasons before giving up and doing it himself. I fucking love him and I Adore that Madi is getting therapy and that they are CONFRONTING WHAT HAPPENED TO A LITERAL CHILD. Jax read one (1) psychology book and decided he was now a licensed therapist and you know what? good for him. 

Someone....let me at Madi’s wardrobe. Babe looks like she rolled up fresh out of Amity from the Divergent movies and like...killing it but What was the inspiration. I am So Happy she gets to play soccer and have therapy sessions and just be a regular kid for what is apparently, the first time in her entire life. I Miss her and Clarke and i wish Clarke was here to see Madi starting to flourish because that dynamic has been pushed So Far to the side this season and I just miss them. I Love that they finally addressed how fucked up it was putting the flame in Madi’s head i seriously love love love it. yes it was necessary but it was also extremely traumatic and not something a child should have to go through and I’m so happy they talked about it (for at least a moment anyway)

Lindsey Morgan and her team said You get to deal with trauma, and you get to deal with trauma, and you - . No but for real, I was pleasantly surprised with the things that got addressed this episode- The flame, Octavia beating up Bellamy, the beginning of Becho. Not as good as Bardo lore but we take what we can get.

(Also shout out to Ms. Morgan for an incredible directorial debut, what a talented queen) 

I Loved Octavia saying outright how fucked up it was that she beat up her brother It’s been 84 years too many seasons of waiting for it, her growth this season? Incredible. That being said, literally What The Fuck was that comforting scene between her and Echo I’m. “You’re my family too” bitch Where. I understand Octavia trying to comfort someone she knows her brother cares for, and I know that Octavia saw how lost and angry Echo was, and this is just my own thoughts but probably recognized something in Echo that was reminiscent of her when she lost Lincoln, at least in her eyes, but it came out of no where?? These two have Never had a good relationship and while part of it is obviously Octavia’s growth the scene felt a little stilted. 

So. Echo. First thing right off the bat (as always, this should literally be the expectation but for the people in the back) THE ACTORS ARE NOT THEIR CHARACTERS, THEY ARE REAL PEOPLE, AND PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GODS LEARN TO SEPARATE THE TWO. I have so much respect for all the actors and crew who are trying their absolute best and making this show something I look forward to watching.

I had Such high hopes for Echo. And honestly the tiny little rat part of my brain that never lets things go still wants to hope for a satisfying end to the spy’s story. I Want her to reach a point where she can look at herself with clear eyes, and come through to the other side. I Want her to have happy ending where she understands that though loyalty is admirable, there has to be more in your life, that you cannot dedicate yourself to one person entirely. The realistic part of my brain that has watched this fucking show for years knows better. Tasya Teles is doing an excellent job of Echo’s continuing downward spiral, 10/10 choices. But all the lighting and framing and crazy intense gaze do Not bode well for Echo’s sanity and her carving the Azgeda marks into her face was I think the point of “no return”. Which makes me sad, to see this end for the character, but it is a path I can see Echo going down, as much as it sucks.

“We got shaved Bellamy but at what cost” makes me cackle but honestly, I liked the Ring flashback. Setting aside how late it is to be Doing ring flashbacks, I think it was a Very interesting look at Becho. Echo on the ring is so cute sorry not sorry, like I Love seeing that girl happy. Her and Bellamy’s little banter reminded me of their earliest dynamic which I enjoyed seeing because I do think those characters have an interesting relationship. Also, Bellamy using his own experiences of the dangers of blind loyalty to try and help Echo, love to see it but her “it’s not real” right before he kissed her...the implications. They knew what they were doing and I think it was a needed perspective into their relationship because we have barely anything except for people saying things about it which is Not The Same Thing.

Moving On! HOLY SHIT Y’ALL HOPE AND DIYOZA I FUCKING LOVE THEM THE ACTRESSES WERE INCREDIBLE, THE DYNAMIC WAS AMAZING, BEST STORYLINE OF THE  EPISODE BY FAR. I seriously just Loved watching their scenes, their relationship is So Good and I loved them trying to figure out the new dynamics they have to work through and the way they don’t really know how to act around each other in the beginning but at their core they’re still mother and daughter and Hope’s broken “they took my mommy” almost had me in tears seriously These Two Y’all. 

Hope thinks of Dev as her father...I’m soft :’)

I’m tired of Nikki. That’s literally all I want to say about her this episode like I’m so tired of the Sanctum storylines and I just do Not care about her little revenge plot. Nelson joining her side is stupid but he was in a very emotional place at the moment so I Guess. 

Emori tried So Hard to make things better on Sanctum and I want to give her all the things it’s what she deserves what a queen. (Luisa d’Oliveira an actual goddess I’m so happy she got a chance to shine this episode). Memori consistently being cute and domestic af love that for them, seriously these two fit so well together “ besides, you’ve been worshiping me for years” when I tell y’all I screamed. Also I’m not like, super convinced about the Emori is pregnant theory and don’t really know how I feel about it but “maybe it’s the palace life giving you that glow” was a...weird choice of words. 

Sheihedea shut up forever challenge. Seriously why does anyone let him speak?? The bitch is so dramatic when he starts going on his “I can give you want you want” speech just walk away from him?? Like what’s the bitch going to do start yelling after you?? And let everyone know how desperate he is to get people on his side and also that he only has one real strategy of getting people on his side?? I think the fuck not. Honestly though, he has one (1) method of getting people on his side and it’s psychoanalyzing them while they play chess which goes on ForEVER btw (like this post w h o o p s) i’m so tired of him. Murphy calling him on his misogyny was certainly a highlight of the episode though, good for him.

And Finally, that ending though. Wow I’m super shocked that the shepard is Bill Cadogan. What a surprise. Never saw it coming. I thin the ‘plot twist’ still worked ish mostly because everyone fucking forgot about his existence but idk it was what I expected and I just Don’t Care? You have crystal giants outside and you want me to care about some musty ass white man who’s been in the freezer for thousands of years?  

I genuinely thought (because I’m a dumbass) for half a second that the old dude in the freezer coffin was Bellamy because I though Anders was going to do some dramatic reveal of where he was stashing our king and the rage I felt in that split second when I thought they really had the audacity to do that. But no it was just Another Plot we get to explore :)))))

ALRIGHT CLOWNS YOU MADE IT TO THE END SO. HOW ABOUT THAT BELLARKE CRUMB WE GOT. Can’t believe I Still can’t retire my clown makeup, please just Give Them A Break. Ms. Morgan really did that though, the framing close up of Clarke, the Bellarke theme in the background, all the other characters looking right at Clarke as she breaks on the inside ( and holy shit kudos to Ms. Eliza Jane for that scene, the sheer heartbreak and almost feral desperation in one expression was Everything). I know I said I love parallel’s and who does parallels better then them but I feel like the “they do this every year” audio, just let them be together for more then Five minutes without some new crisis blease. 

Next episode will be a prequel (?) set up (?) which will be...interesting. Going to be real honest I don’t really care about the premise but Becca scenes are always a plus. More of the Diyoza women please, Clarke and Octavia deserve to have a (better) moment grieving over Bellamy together thanks, let Miller say more lines, and p l e a s e let Bellamy and Clarke be on screen together soon I miss them. 

Friendship ended with Gabriel now Levitt is my only friend