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swifty-fox · 1 month

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What Comes After

blacked out. wrote 1.7k fic for @bcolfanfic's Young vets AU.

Fanfic/Sequel of

Tw for aftermath of a suicide attempt and all that may entail

Nobody tells you what to do in the hours after your husband tries to take his life. Nobody says you’re going to be angry.

Nobody tells Gale how much he’ll have to pay for gas to the only Hospital for miles, seven hours tailing the red ominous lights of an ambulance there seven hours back all alone for the first time in a long while (one-hundred-twenty-seven dollars and fifty-three cents).

There’s nobody to tell him how to smile at his husband as he’s led away in a stunned daze. Does he smile at all? Small and painful and fake?

And who can he ask what to do as he comes home to a now empty home, dawn well past finished and a hole the size of a man's life in the wall. A hole, no bigger than a nickel and just perfectly at eye level. The difference between a happy ending and a tragedy; the scales tipped kindly in his favor this time.

You never wrestle for a gun. That’s the easiest way to get your own damn self shot.

A coin flip. Heads for John, Tails for Gale.

“Guess the quarter got stuck in a crack.” he mutters. He knows his thought patterns aren’t quite clear, confused and weighed down by exhaustion and shock.

Somewhere an animal is in pain. It gasps raggedly; sharp and raw. Someone should put that animal out of its misery, nothing deserved to be driven to sounds like that. Gale knows he is that animal. He swipes at his suddenly-tear soaked cheeks with a rough palm and sits down on the floor hard.

His phone is in his hand, it’s first instinct to want to call John, hear his teasing voice (it hadn’t been teasing in a long time Gale Cleven don’t you lie). Bucky wouldn’t answer. He knew it would be a day or two before he would get an update on his husband. Not until observation was over, until paperwork was filed and permission was given. The nurse had explained it all through the ringing in Gale’s ears.

“Curt.” Buck says, shocked by the steadiness in his voice even as more tears trail their acidic way down his face.

“Hey Buck, y’just caught me on break what’s up?” The familiar voice, clipping all it’s ‘T’s away to nothingness devastates Gale. He lets out a sob with all the violence of vomiting.

“Gale?”

“Ah fuck Curt, John had a gun.” Gale moans, covering his eyes and trying to breathe. The gun, now tossed carelessly on their bed like a stray shirt.

Nobody tells him how to inform their friends of what has happened.

“What.” Curts voice is so strangled, so tiny that Gale realizes his fatal error immediately.

“He’s okay. He’s okay Curt the gun- it went into the wall. He’s at a hospital right now. He’s where he needs to be.”

Gale had heard that phrase a lot; spoken by people trying to reassure themselves that their loved ones would come home whole and healed. Now he was one of those people whispering the phrase with false confidence.

John needed to be Home.

Curt devolves into a mess of swearing, punctuated with a passionate “Fffffucking VA!”

“I woke up and he wasn’t next to me. I thought maybe he had gotten out somehow, past the alarms. I’d already gotten my gun out of the house Curt I didn’t think-”

There's muffled voices on the other line, Curt talking to someone else, “- No I’m sick can’t you see? Gotta go Sean sorry. Fuck the client pardon my fucking french I gotta family emergency.” A car door slams, the sound of keys in an ignition. “You didn’t know Buck. It’s not your fault you did exactly what ya should’ve.”

“He had the gun to his chin,” Gale says numbly.

Is there anyone to tell him how to get that single heart-stopping image out from behind his eyelids? He saw it every time he closed his eyes.

“Fuck, Gale.” Curt exhales. “He’s okay?” so vulnerable, so sad, needing to double check just in case.

“He’s in fucking psych ward. I can’t even call him.”

“Yeah dumb question.” A pause where Gale just tries to breathe, looks up at that hole in the wall. It could be a woodpecker's hole on any tree outside. It was in his home and smelled faintly of gunpowder and terror. “I’m looking up plane tickets right now.”

“Y’don’t have t-”

“G’fuck yourself, I’m coming.”

Gale has no strength to argue, he’s got nothing left, really.

“I almost lost him, Curt.”

“But you didn’t.” Curt still sounds stressed and Gale feels a twinge of guilt for ruining the guy's day just because he wasn’t able to help his own partner. “You did everything right. And you’re going to go to bed, then you’re going to wake up and I’mma be there. And we’ll deal with things together.”

“Together,” he echoes.

“Get some sleep Buck. I’ll send you a text when my flight lands.” Curt orders before hanging up.

The thought of going into the bedroom; to the bed he shared with John. To have to see that fucking gun again.

Nobody tells him how to handle that.

Gale falls asleep on the couch instead.

-*~*-

When he awakes it’s night again and he feels such a violent sense of deja-vu that he has to do a walk-through of the whole house just to make sure that saving John hadn’t actually been a dream. That his body wasn’t lying somewhere with horrifying finality.

Nobody tells you that maybe your husband's trauma-based decisions might cause a little trauma themselves.

Even though he knows there will be nothing - John's phone kept safely in a plastic bag along with the rest of his personal effects- Gale checks their messages first. Scans them for any sign, any slip that he may have missed that told him what Bucky was planning. ‘Love You’s’ and ‘Be Home Soons’ and ‘Get There Safes’. Bucky had been struggling, but he hadn’t seemed quite that bad yet.

Or maybe Gale just hadn’t wanted to see it.

There’s a text from Curt showing his seven hour direct flight was only a half hour from landing.

Exhaustion still claws at Gale as he shuffles out to the truck, clothes rumbled and sweaty from sleep, from stress; from wrestling a fucking firearm from a man determined to end his life and Gale’s in the same action. The truck is too silent. John usually sat to his right, hand on his thigh or the back of his neck; always touching Gale in a way the blonde allowed no other man to do.

He has to pull over to stop himself from hyperventilating.

When he pulls into the pick-up zone at the Airport it’s nearly deserted aside from a short familiar man in a windbreaker and military boots.

Curt takes one look at his pale face and walks around the nose of the car to the driver's side.

“Budge over.” He says, opening the door and waving an impatient hand at Gale.

Gale didn’t think he could, felt like his hands were glued to the smooth leather of the wheel. Just twenty-four hours ago he’d driven Bucky to the hospital in this car. He wondered at how quickly he’d gone from seeing the next steps so clearly in front of him to having to remember how to even speak. He was a puppet, his strings cut the moment John had entered the doors of the hospital. Through security guard checkpoints and metal detectors and locked doors. It was like being back in the desert with that level of protective diligence; or perhaps a prison

That can’t be very good for Bucky.

Nobody told him it might have been a good idea to inform the hospital why sometimes the glint of metal in the light made John do a double take.

When Gale still hasn’t moved, Curt lets out a tender sigh and unclips Gale’s seatbelt for him like the other man is a child.

“Come on Cleven, scoot on down the line.” He says gently, gives him a light push.

This is enough for him to move his wooden limbs, shuffle awkwardly over the center console and collapse gracelessly into the passenger seat. Curt hauls himself into the truck with an awkward grunt. He takes a second to maneuver his leg, move the seat upwards and the wheel down, and adjust the mirrors.

Gale sits there, opening and closing his hands. John had sat here last. Cried here not because he was alive and safe like Gale had cried; but for the opposite.

Nobody told him how to sit in a puddle of his husband’s shed grief.

“Here,” Curt tosses his phone into Gales lap. “Text Kenny for me will ya? Tell him I got y- got here safe”

“Does he know?”

Curt pulls out of the airport, opens a window and leans his arm out as if he could air out the stuffy melancholy of the truck. “He asked where I was going. I didn’t-”

“John’s gonna hate it.” Gale mumbles “He won’t want anyone to know.”

“Yeah, well, if he didn’t want people to know, maybe he shoulda woken you up. Shoulda called m-” Curt cuts himself off, presses sturdy boxer’s fingers to his mouth. “Fucking VA.” he curses again.

“Fucking VA.” Gale agrees. And it feels a little good.

-*~*-

When they arrive back at the house It’s Curt that leads them inside. Curt, who picks up the gun, carefully disassembles it and puts it safely in the lock-box to be gotten rid of later. Curt who makes them a simple dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

They stand at the counter, eating silently. Gale feels wired and too awake, his sleep schedule beyond to fucked.

He’d have to call out of work tomorrow. Maybe take a short leave. How could he even pretend to be okay for the kids?

“This is- In here right?” Curt’s eyes are jumping around the dark room, searching searching.

Nobody tells you the shame that curls in one's belly when you have to show your best friend the bullet hole that nearly ruined all their lives.

Curt puts his hands on his hips, bread crumbs stuck to the corner of his mouth and brow furrowed. Neither of them say much for a long time. Curt surveying and Gale staring a little blankly and replaying the sound of the gunshot over and over in his head.

“Well,” Curt finally drawls, “That’s an easy fix. You got any spackle?” he turns and smiles at Gale, crooked and reassuring,

Gale thinks he’d like to tell someone about this part. The part where people show up for you.

#swiftywrites #buck x bucky #cleven #buck cleven #john egan #gale cleven #bucky egan #bitches have too many names #curt biddick #young vets au #suicide tw #mota

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blondie-drawings · 1 month

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GIRLS NIGHT!!! LOBOTOMY AT IANTHE'S

#this was gonna be part of another meme dump.... but i liked how it came out too much ToT #i gave harrow the ol' picard style bald head lmao #crackin her open like an egg #harrow: ianthe i need you to do me a favour #ianthe: can i wear a little outfit #harrow: uh sure do whatever you want??#the locked tomb #tlt #harrowhark nonagesimus #ianthe tridentarius #harrow the ninth #gideon the ninth #ianthe the third #these bitches have too many names!!!!#oh and #harrianthe #harryanthe

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dinoshimaaa · 8 months

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some day, someone will like me like i like you. (pt 2)

this damned feeling. a curse laid upon him for all of eternity. unescapable, tormenting, torturing. first it was disappointment he felt in himself for succumbing to it. but that feeling of shame was soon washed away by the bliss that accompanied the fluttering feeling in his chest, its intensity so strong that it overpowered every other emotion in him, to the point that he only ever thinks and feels of you when you are near. what a shame that you do not feel the same. (feat. wanderer, tartaglia, lyney, gn! reader) (pt 1 here)

or: their heart will always be yours, but you…

(p.s. scara for @seveninchesfrominsanity 😎 and gingey for my best boro @souglias 😍 good luck to everyone on their child pulls!!!!!!!!)

(p.p.s. 8 year-old tartaglia refers to reader as a princess once, but it’s gender neutral otherwise + archon quest and lyney story quest spoilers)

the wanderer of sumeru is all but lovely. he is “hat guy”, the mysterious vahumana scholar who showed up out of nowhere just days ago, already gathering an infamous identity for being scornful and anti-social. he is lesser lord kusanali’s assistant, a thinly veiled title to mask the fact that he is a prisoner under her watch. many do not know him because he refuses to work in the spotlight, much like the acting grand sage, and those who do don’t always have the best impression of him.

and even lesser truly know of where he had come from: his mother who is raiden ei, his origins in tatarasuna, his affiliation with the fatui, his obsession with the electro gnosis, and what he once was to sumeru: a false god, a monster, the near-cause of the land of wisdom’s destruction.

but the lack of something will always be attracted to an abundance of something. you are nothing but lovely; the loveliest, if anyone had to say. you are dazzling and you are beautiful, turning heads towards you when you walk the street. you are kind and generous towards the stray kittens on treasure street, and cheerful and easygoing with the store owners when you visit them. people sing praises of you everywhere wanderer goes, and to say he hadn’t had his own experience with you was incorrect.

he remembers himself fighting wave after wave of fatui soldiers, and himself slowly getting more exhausted by the minute, when you came in like a saviour angel from above, plunging on the last of enemies with your bow. he recalls your hits being barely a fraction of how hard he can slice through an enemy, yet when you assisted in defeating those annoying fatui back then, you turned around and asked if he was okay with the brightest smile imaginable.

(to the traveler or nahida, he would’ve given a sarcastic reply. to any ordinary civilian, he would’ve ignored them and been on his way. that day, he recalls being utterly speechless, while the rising sun glows behind your head, giving you a halo, illuminating your smile further. you are the most radiant sight he has ever seen.)

he seeks you out secretly like a stray cat following the only kind soul who fed it milk. sometimes, he watches over you in the air, making sure you’re safe. other times he just observes your interactions with others, ever so relieved to see that you are loved by sumeru just as much as you have shown its people love. more often than not he catches himself drifting off to a dream filled with you, being flustered and ashamed of such pathetic behaviour. but sometimes he also gets too lost in his thoughts, melancholy overtaking his face when he thinks of the shining star that you are.

wanderer’s hands are decorated with filth and blood. they show, sometimes, after an exhausting fight with the fatui. in his peripheral vision, hallucinations of that kid, that blacksmith, and the doctor come and go. in the dead of night, when sumeru sleeps soundly and all that is to be heard are the rustling of leaves in the wind, wanderer looks at his shaking hands and closes them in a fist, wiping them harshly, trying to rub off the sins stained on them. he is a terrible person to others. he is a terrible person to himself.

he is not a lovely person. you are the embodiment of ‘lovely’ itself. he couldn’t possibly deserve to be with you, lest his filth and sinful hands taint your pure being. it would simply be unconscionable for someone like him; damaged past, wreck and ruin, an empty soulless shell, to be close to your brightness. no one, not even himself, would forgive him if he were to ruin who you are: sumeru’s loveliest, the one who loves sumeru, and the one whom sumeru loves.

it is yet another night of watching you enter your house safely, staring at your front door for a few moments more before heading back to his residence (nevermind that he was the one to clear all the enemies in your path ahead, while you weren’t seeing). if nahida ever pointed out the lingering fond look in his eyes, or if the traveler teased him about having a possible crush on someone, there would be no need to blush madly and scamper away like a schoolgirl, for he knows that there is zero chance of “us” with him and you.

there are many fairy tales that are popular in morepesok village, most of which ajax have heard in his childhood many times. his distant memories include his mother, still youthful and full of smiles, reading him one of such fairy tales to lull him to sleep. he remembers her warm caress, the pulling of a quilt over his tiny body, and the soft flicker of the candle beside his mother, waiting to be blown out for the night. he also remembers you, his childhood best friend, his sleepover buddy, his other half, tucked into bed right next to him. if he searched hard enough, he might find some candid pictures of you and him, cuddled next to each other in the bed, in his childhood home.

“so then, the prince and the princess ended up happily ever after again?” 8 year-old ajax yawned, a sleepy smile on his face.

“they did, again,” his mother’s warm chuckle resonates throughout the room, through his ears, into his heart. he stores her laugh like a cassette tape in his memory, wanting to play it over and over again in the future.

“i can’t imagine a fairy tale where the prince and princess don’t end up together,” you murmured beside ajax, as his mother tucked the two of you in.

“that should be us, then,” ajax turned to face you and grinned, “so we’ll never be apart. let’s pinky promise that you’ll always be the princess and i’ll always be the prince!”

“why do i have to be your princess?” you complained, only to be shushed by ajax’s mother before she blew the candle out, signalling the end of pillow talk and the start of dreamland.

(all three of you knew it was impossible for you and ajax to be completely silent after lights out. the giggles that progressively get louder and harder after his mother leaves the room are testament to that.

this time, however, ajax is deadly silent, and you reach out to cup his face to ask what’s wrong.)

“sorry,” ajax holds the hand you cupped his cheek with. “you don’t have to be the princess, it’s okay. but i want to be your prince. i want to rescue you from the bad guys and defeat bad guys in your name. i’ll even do a pinky promise to prove it.”

even though you don’t give him a verbal answer, you hold his hand as he sleeps. it brings enough reassurance to 8 year-old ajax.

such peaceful times are unreachable now, ever since he fell.

ajax has not seen you for ten years. you have seen tartaglia for none.

when he returns, his familiar fluff of ginger hair in front of your doorstep, you have to do a double take. gone is the scrawny boy you knew, that got sick after every ice fishing trip, and cried over the smallest of scratches; in front of you now stands a fearsome harbinger, the tsaritsa’s vanguard, a killing machine with no life in his eyes.

(that is not ajax, any longer. that is tartaglia. that is a fatui harbinger. where is your ajax?)

you cannot bring yourself to smile when he presents you with a bouquet of pink roses, despite how beautifully preserved and fragrant they are. your heart doesn’t soften even when he greets your parents politely, plays with your siblings, cooks your family dinner, and helps with the dishes. that is not ajax whom you’ve let into your home, in contrast to what the rest of your family believes. that is a stranger who has intruded your safe space.

it hurts childe more than it hurts you to be on the receiving end of haunted eyes and hostile stares. he knows that he is vastly different from the childhood best friend he was to you ten years ago, and no matter what he does now, you will always see him as tartaglia, childe, the vanguard. you love ajax, but ajax is who he once was. ajax had been forced to throw himself away to survive. it wasn’t his fault that ajax is dead, but he cannot blame you for defiantly wanting your ajax back.

so when he kneels in front of you, the snowy wind feeling a lot more colder than usual, he ignores the way your hands tense when he holds it. he wants to cry when you attempt to pull your hand away even though he kisses it as gently as gentle can be. if an outsider were to witness this, they’d call this a romantic scene, between a prince and his beloved. but both you and ajax know that the fairy tale you yearned for in your childhood is completely unreachable now.

(“give me back my ajax.”)

(“i’m sorry.”)

to say that the great magician lyney is fully authentic in his shows would be a bit of a stretch, for he is an actor on the stage before he is a magician, however hard or long he may rehearse the day before the show. every smile had been sculpted and practised for hours until it was deemed perfect enough to be seen by his audience. needless to say, ‘the great magician lyney’ is merely a farce, an identity of its own. he wishes not to confuse that lyney with ‘fatui lyney’ and just ‘lyney’.

you were just supposed to be another face in the audience, an unsuspecting fellow he was meant to charm, attract, and never remember the face of. but you show up to a show once, then twice, then thrice, and soon you become a familiar face that lyney notices in the audience every now and then.

(that’s what lyney says, at least. lynette knows that he secretly seeks out your face behind the curtains, and the moment he finds you, his smile widens a tad bit, and his voice is a little cheerier as he steps out on stage.

by the way, since when did he start using rainbow roses in his performances? ugh, darn charlotte.)

but it is not easy to always be just ‘lyney’ with you, for he is called to be the great magician by day, and fatui by night. rarely is there time given to him to be his true self in front of you, to let the curtains fall and the farce fade. you can’t remember the last time he was allowed to let his shoulders slump, his face be bare of makeup, and his head rest under your chin as you kissed his tears.

and it seems you won’t be seeing those ever again.

lyney feels his blood run cold the moment father mentions your name in a mission, so casually, almost as if she had let your name slip out of her lips innocently and accidentally, if he hadn’t known any better. but lyney has been her loyal servant, her ‘favourite child’ for years, and he knows that the mere mention of your name is but a warning to him.

“i seem to be craving coffee recently. no one brews it quite as well as [name] does, i fear,” is what the knave says.

that person seems to be distracting you. i will eliminate them soon, is what she means.

lyney cannot afford to let anymore people close to him get hurt. his parents, who passed when he was very young… lynette, whose life had been endangered too many times to count… cesar, who taught him everything and treated him with love even in just ten days…

you shouldn’t need to fall into the same trend as well. your life is peaceful, precious, and untainted unlike his. so, it should remain untouched. and lyney decides that this is when he does what he has to do.

on the day that you return home and see lumidouce bells on your doorstep instead of lyney, you feel your heart plummet to your stomach. your gut turns and folds nastily, and stars increasingly flood your vision while a silent plea rings in your head, but there is nothing logical that refutes the contents of the letter that lyney had left you. that is all you have left of him.

the rest is to be expected. feeling betrayed and abandoned, you lose all feelings for lyney, not wanting to be associated with him again. his gifted trinkets left in your house are all thrown out. you can’t look at a magic show advertisement for more than two seconds. it takes only a little while to get over this heartbreak, but once you are fully free of all emotional attachment to lyney, you never think about him and his rainbow roses ever again.

lyney’s plan goes exceptionally well. of course it does; it was as meticulously planned as all his performances are. he returns to the house later that night to report back to father, submitting his response to her threats weeks ago: [name] is nothing to me now. hence, you cannot hurt them.

(however successful his plan was, he cannot bring himself to smile in response to the knave’s satisfied one.)

later, on the same night, when he slips out of the house, he finds himself wandering towards the place where he usually picks his rainbow roses from. a gentle pluck, a flick of his hand; a lumidouce bell takes its place instead. he smiles at his own trick bitterly, before pressing his lips to the blue flower and intertwining another rainbow rose with it.

a moment of hesitation comes, followed by a few minutes of uneasy pacing, until lyney makes the decision to squeeze the petals with his gloved hand. the crumpled pink and blue petals fall to the ground. lyney only gazes as they do so.

(he wishes he could do the same to his own heart, but that is barely a fraction of how he made you feel. he will look for more ways to punish himself, then.)

#CAN YOU BELIEVE FEIYUE POSTED AGAIN. WHAT #DURING EXAM SEASON TOO ❓❓❓❓🔥🔥🔥🔥#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #lyney #lyney x reader #childe #tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #scaramouche #wanderer #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #dawg why all these fatui bitches have so many names

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angel1tez · 9 months

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RUIN DLC SPOILERS

Look i dont think gregory killed cassie, i think it was the mimic … but sometimes jokes have to be made

i was gonna make that one image of someone being chased by a guy floating into cassie and m.x.e.s but I wanted to dedicate this post to gregory and his murder

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ohitslen · 9 months

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Nightow really made two men point a gun at each other, two times, in separate occasions (different works) and no one is talking about it the enough.

This man says he doesn’t know how to write romance and then did whatever that is with those four that exudes way more intimacy than it should for what it is in all honesty

#this is about Bunji and Brandon.#like are you fr?? NIGHTOW CMON????#and like ofc I had to like bunji that bitch #like fuck you also why does he have to. and then when he. because. FUCK OFF #love them a normal amount (real)#I have not posted more about Gungrave but it’s because I’m watching too many things at once and reading and working #I just forget. and Vashwood in the noggin 24/7 so uh yeah! they make me sick #why why why why why why why why #trigun #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #Vashwood #gungrave #bunji kugashira #brandon heat #beyond the grave #do those two have a ship name??? I need to know. so I can. tag this properly.#two times used loosely bc it was more than two times of having a gun in their heads

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fredwardrawn · 2 months

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Something about Post Canon Keterburg crew getting to hang out again that makes me happy. Imagine if you love your friends a lot and it gets to mean something good for like the first time in forever

#tales of the abyss #tota #jade curtiss #peony upala malkuth ix #nephry osborne #saphir ortion gneiss #dist the reaper #dist the rose #nephry balfour #jade balfour #god these bitches have too many NAMES #not pictured is that Peony drops saphir after this #please forgive me for how bad the colors are #this was suppose to be a night time drawing but i was doing SO BAD coloring it guys i only know how to paint with orange

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simptasia · 5 months

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antisemitic trekkies have a staggering amount of gall

#im talking about the fact that spock and data are the two most popular characters in all of star trek #every ''fave trek character'' poll we all know where its going #antisemetic trekkies don't DESERVE leonard and brent's jewish splendour upon their screens #also leonard added a lot of jewish-ness into spock and vulcan culture in general it's INTRINISTIC it's a TAPESTRY #and im barely scraping the surface too #theres also bajorans being an obvious stand in for jewish people #theres the three most prominent ferengi characters being played by jewish actors and the Certain Flavour this adds #there are the acting choices made for dr. soong. and the acting/last name choices for dr. zimmerman #theres the overarching theme of overcoming past suffering and living on endless hope #and like. lots of other details #on a metatextual level removing judaism from star trek is like removing flour from a cake after its cooked #you can't do it bitch #i'm not jewish i just have a great deal of respect for the faith and the culture #(plus i've always been a little media sponge so many a jewish actor or writer and so on)

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bylertruther · 2 years

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"will shouldn't use a gun in season five because his father probably taught him how to use one and that could be a bad reminder for him" have you considered that will using what was very likely a Bad experience to save his life in what is undoubtedly an even worse experience could be a good thing? have you considered that him using a skill he was forced to learn to save not only himself but (as is likely more important and meaningful to him) the lives of others could give him a sense of usefulness and safety knowing that he isn't defenseless and can stand his and others' ground if need be? especially considering that's a skill that we've only seen hopper and nancy possess, making it that much more valuable and himself more helpful to the group? after everything in s1 and s2, he's probably felt guilty for having endangered them and dozens of other people multiple times, i don't think it'd be out there for him to feel "happy" that he can finally return the favor and protect them for once (especially after having complained about being babied and treated like a doll).

"will doesn't have and shouldn't have powers because that makes him different and he doesn't want to be different" not only are you wrong lol <3 but how have you not noticed that will's entire thing since the very beginning is that he is different and he knows it and while he does get his heart broken over the fact that this means he faces constant unfairness in life, he still refuses to be any other way? will doesn't conform nor does he ever try to even when others try to force or shame him to. he gets frustrated and upset at being treated differently, yes, but he stays true to himself. to battle that feeling he sometimes gets that tells him he's a mistake, a feeling he gets not from his own otherness but from living in a world that Makes it an otherness and thus isolates him for it, he seeks out that which he loves and enjoys and throws himself wholeheartedly at it. will lives his truth and is willing to suffer the consequences for it. he refuses to live in darkness and let it take a hold of him. he holds on to hope and all that makes him feel better for being different. he holds on to art, to dnd, to video games, to his family and his friends, and everything that brings him joy and reminds him that it's okay to be different. in s1 joyce defends will ("he's missing is what he is") and jonathan tells him he shouldn't like things that other people (namely their homophobic dad) try to force him to like, that he should like what he genuinely likes. in s2 jonathan gives will the freak speech and tells him that no one normal ever accomplished anything and mentions bowie. in s3, he doesn't get a speech, (though joyce does tell him that when he falls in love he won't find it gross [avoiding the word girlfriend and leaving it neutral]) but he does face backlash from someone that IS trying to conform and IS shaming will for not letting go of "childish" things aka his interests, what's important to him, and what he wants. does will back down or shy away in shame? no. instead, he lets mike sit in his shame for having said something that hurtful, and he says "yeah. i guess i did. i really did." clearly this is a conversation about what makes will different aka his sexuality bc he goes and destroys castle byers (the safe place he and his brother built once their homophobic dad left which is a place will can be himself unapologetically) with what is likely a bat that lonnie gave him when trying to get him into baseball. he calls himself stupid and donates his dnd books, but i don't see this as an act of conformity (he tells mike as much, suggesting he'll just use his books + if he was ashamed he wouldn't have painted the party as their dnd characters and given it to him of all people lol). he felt stupid because he thought they'd always be crazy together, that they were of the same mind and heart still, and that they had the same brand of "otherness" if you catch my drift. then in s4 we get jonathan's tender "you're my brother and there is nothing absolutely nothing that will ever change that" which is the most direct anyone has ever been about that which makes will different. and he doesn't shy away from it! he doesn't deny it, because we can see from his confession and how he breaks down that he's desperately been wanting and needing to hear that. he accepts that love and allows himself to be held and seen by someone else, as he has every other time. because will doesn't hate being different, he just hates that he has to live in a world where that's seen as wrong and thus makes him feel like he doesn't belong because of it. but he doesn't change himself. he doesn't feel ashamed of it. he doesn't see it as a flaw in himself or others and he never has. will is different and he knows it and he wouldn't have it any other way.

will's story since the beginning has been about being different and going through awful things, and managing to not only find the light in it but also make it out stronger because of it all. it's always been about using what makes him different as a good thing and as something he uses to save himself and others.

will being good with a gun bought him time with whatever kidnapped him. will knowing how to run and hide kept him alive in the upside down. will acted as a spy while possessed and managed not only to save hopper but also tell them how to finish this. will's experiences and senses helped them figure out what was happening in season three. will's love and loyalty inspires mike and manages to bring him to a better place even if just for a moment in the van, and again he's the one that knows vecna's current state, aaaand had he been in hawkins at the time it likely would've gone a lot better because as dustin said "we need will".

taking something awful and turning it into a good thing and a source of strength is a wonderful trope. it's inspiring and empowering not only for the character but for those that could use that hope and reminder that there's always a silver lining, that life isn't all darkness and shadows and hurt. not only that, but it's something that they've literally always done for will since the very beginning. he is the prime character for that. his entire message has always been that it's okay to be different and that you can find strength and peace in that; that the things that make you different aren't a detriment, they're precisely what make you strong. like... i'm sorry, but have you not been paying attention at all whatsoever this entire time or... :/

#some of u heard 'sometimes it makes you feel like a mistake' and just forgot every other season ever it seems like #but idk maybe IM the outlier here lmao #characters like mike steve and eleven i can see the conformity argument for #BUT WILL?!?!?!?#will who has always drawn and listened to his music and wanted to hang out with his friends and play dnd and who #gets made fun of for so many things even by those that mean the world to him but has never ONCE tried to change #anything about who he is over that..... THAT'S who you think thinks being different is a bad thing!?!?!#will who has never lied about being a loner or what he likes or what he wants in life or has dressed like other people want him to #will who specifically has received multiple It's Okay To Be Different speeches and came out of them believing them is the character #that you think hates being different? will who loves mike's nerdy self and thinks the absolute world of him and TELLS HIM AS MUCH AND #CONFESSES HIS GAY LOVE TO DESPITE THE SUMMER OF HOMOPHOBIA AND THE AIRPORT FIASCO AND THAT DREW A #FUCKING HEART ON HIS SHIELD UNABASHEDLY AND CONFESSED IN FRONT OF TWO OTHER PEOPLE TOO ON TOP OF THAT #IN THE EIGHTIES!!!!!!! TO MIKE!!!! WHO COULDNT TOUCH HIM AND HAS A CONSERVATIVE FAMILY AND DIDNT TALK TO HIM FOR A YEAR #IS WHO YOU THINK HATES BEING DIFFERENT . HELLO #literally everything that he goes through is turned into something 'good' because that's the POINT!!!!#HE DOESN'T WANT TO BE NORMAL!!! HE IS NOT THE CHARACTER U SHOULD BE MAKING THOSE ARGUMENTS FOR LMAO #jus say u don't want him to have powers bro don't be lying on my blorbito's name like that 😭😭😭😭😭#anyway. crazed frenzy is over im normal now <3 #u kno how the long and all too passionate bordering on Is This Bitch Okay mobile posts go #back to being offline now byeeeee 🏃‍♀️

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