#grumpy caretaker | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ashintheairlikesnow · 2 years

Note

I would love to see Jake in therapy! Especially as a victim of abuse himself, being hurt by people who this time genuinely don't know better or don't mean to hurt him must be very triggering. He can't react with anger and he won't let himself feel it because he prioritises them.

CW: Discussion of childhood abuse, domestic violence, brief religious talk and a VERY extended wildfire metaphor, I'm so sorry

Takes place after The Same Bed Arc

"You know what I hate the most about my job?"

The question pops out of him seemingly without his consent. Jake finds himself confused as he hears his own voice, feels his own mouth moving to form the words. But once he starts, he can't quite stop.

Dr. Berger's eyebrows raise, slightly, looking up from the calendar she's carefully making coded notations in. They've been scheduling out the next three months of clandestine appointments for the runaways, fitting them in here or there around her schedule, when she can find her way to safe places where no one will be tracked. "Jake?"

He rakes a hand back through his hair, stubbornly refusing to refer to it as his good hand, because then he'd have to admit that he still hasn't got the grip strength he used to have on the other one. How long can he hide the tingling nerves, the way sometimes his fingers feel numb? How long can he disguise having to shift to using one arm instead of both?

How long can he keep-

"The goddamn lying. That's what I hate the most."

Dr. Berger doesn't visibly react, really. Her gaze shifts briefly to one side, checking that the door to her office is closed, then back to his face. "It is an unfortunate necessity in what we do," She says, voice low, warm and empathetic. "But I can see how it would be exhausting, even when you're experienced in this line of work.”

"It’s not even because of work, that's what I fucking hate." Jake sits back, running his hand over his face. He's so tired. He's staying awake too much, watching Kauri sleep, the bruises around his neck finally fading. He's clingy, Kauri, holding onto Jake all night and waking up the second he gets out of bed for a drink or to visit the bathroom. And if he's not holding onto Jake, he's clinging to Antoni instead. Antoni, who only shakes his head when Jake asks if he needs some space, and refuses to be separated from Kauri whatsoever, even when it's clearly costing him. He just keeps staying there, watching and waiting for another attack that they know isn't coming - the one who wants to hurt Kauri is gone, as gone as you can get - but neither of them can stop waiting for it, anyway.

Kauri is back to his old way of saying I know it's stupid, but can you tell me you love me? with a brittle, false sparkling brilliance that will shatter like glass if anyone hesitates a second too long before they respond.

It's too familiar. It hurts too much.

“I hate that I started lying when I was four and I’ve never stopped.” There. The words are out, and there’s a relief alongside the tightness in his throat, that eternal drumbeat of shame that he’s never been able to shake. All the audiobooks he’s played in his car, the well-meaning therapy shit on the internet, none of it ever made him able to shake the shame. Not all the way. Not completely.

“You’ve mentioned your difficulties as a child before.”

He looks at her, blinking. She’s sitting back, too, hands folded in her lap. The perfect representation of calm professionalism, even in her weekend sweats and short ponytail, meeting him after an hour at her hot yoga class. Which she claims is miserable but ‘exhilarating’, which to Jake mostly just seems like ‘miserable, but too expensive not to pretend to like’.

“You’re treating me like a patient,” He says, and there’s humor in his voice that he doesn’t really feel. It’s not a statement, honestly, it’s more of a question, if one he already knows the answer to.

She nods, mostly just tipping her chin slightly down, head to the side. “You seem like you need someone to talk to, lately,” She says, and there’s no hint of annoyance or irritation in voice or face. Only her empathy, which he’s seen turned on so many of the runaways over the years, now aimed right at him. “But I’ve been thinking that you seem like you need someone to talk to lately more or less since you were twenty-three years old.”

“Christ, has it been that long?” He groans. “God, it has. I’m getting old.”

“You’re not even thirty-five, Jake.” She smiles wide enough for him to catch the dimple on one side. “But I know the feeling. I felt old at your age, too. And then somehow I kept getting older without actually feeling any wiser."

“Funny how that happens. I’m all right, Andrea, I really am, but I just… you know, it never stops. And that’s what I wanted, I knew from the first month I worked for Nat I didn’t want to do anything else with my life, but with… with what happened to Kauri… I’m wondering if I’m even strong enough to do this forever.”

“Very few people are,” Dr. Berger says gently. “That’s nothing to feel upset or ashamed of.”

“Nat never stopped.”

“Nat’s quite the exception to the rule.” Dr. Berger exhales without quite opening her mouth all the way, looking towards the window in her office, the tree outside. Her fingers tap idly along the top of one thigh. “But even she is only taking on one person right now-”

“Two, if you count Vince.”

Dr. Berger’s lip twitches in another slight smile. “Fine. Two. But my point is that Nat is a very driven person, yes, but even she needed to step back for a while. It’s not a problem to become worn down by the work you do. And lying is difficult, even lying for survival. Our minds dislike dishonesty, even our own. You can’t make a baseline of success based on someone else’s career path, because you are not Natalie Yoder.”

“God, no. I’m sure not. I wouldn’t ever have worked for WRU, for one thing.”

Dr. Berger is quiet for a beat, and then asks softly, “Do you resent her?”

“I did, for a while after I found out. After I found out she’d lied to us for so long, when I had-... when I hadn’t lied to her, you know-... but she had lied to us. And then they showed me that photo of her… Yeah, I was angry for a while.”

“Because of the lying?”

“Because of the lying to me.” He shakes his head. Somehow it’s found its way into his hands, palms pressed to his temples over his eyebrows. The office is a little over-warm - she keeps the thermostat higher on the weekends so the air won’t run as hard. The wildfires have finally come under control, but the smoke travels and the sun outside seems weaker, a little orange, even in the middle of the day. But still, the smell in the air keeps Jake on edge.

Like he can’t quite shake the way the air smelled when he was racing his car towards Vince’s house, following Keira’s directions and praying he wouldn’t be too late.

And he almost was.

Staring at Kauri in Antoni’s arms, the weeping and the tears. The blood, only realizing once he had them both in his own arms that the blood wasn't Kauri's, but Owen's.

Realizing only when Vince and Nat were headed for the bathroom that Vince had been the one to wield the knife.

He'd already been thinking about the lies they would tell to explain Owen’s death, even before he could bring back home the person he loves most on earth. It’s always been about the lies they’ll use to save themselves, it’s always been about the lies he’ll tell to protect his family.

“Is it-... Jake, this is a delicate question, but is it because it reminds you of your-”

“Dad?” He cuts her off. Somehow it feels safer to be the one to say it out loud. He looks up to see her throat move as she swallows, to take in the plain, worn blue of her sweatshirt. She has little wrinkles around her eyes like Nat does, and did she have any of them when he first met her, or has that just come with the time, the years that have passed while they worked to help frightened, hurting people heal?

She nods.

“Yeah.” He laughs, airy and bitter and humorless. “It does remind me of him, definitely. Of telling people at church that I fell out of a tree instead of that my dad grabbed me hard enough to dislocate my shoulder, and then sitting through a stupid fucking Sunday School lecture about the ‘importance of honesty’ and God knowing when we lie. Of my mother laughing with my grandparents about being so dang clumsy when every single person at the Thanksgiving table giving thanks for our good fortune knew he’d punched her. Of telling myself that I wasn’t angry she didn’t leave even though I was punching the wall until my hands bled when I thought about having to keep living in that house with him. Seven year old kids shouldn’t be angry enough to do that!“

She doesn’t say anything, but at least she doesn’t have her notebook out. It feels less like real therapy if she doesn’t have her notebook, if she’s just listening. It makes it easier to keep talking, knowing that the words simply dissolve into the air after he says them, and there’s no one keeping a record of his confessions.

“I feel like I’m always angrier than the people hurt worse than I was,” Jake whispers. His eyes burn, and he’s surprised to feel tears welling when he blinks, even more shocked when one rolls, warm and and then suddenly cold, down his face. His heart twists, chilled and burning inside his chest. “I was always angrier than my mom, I’m angrier about Owen Grant than Kauri is. I’m always fighting off my anger while they’re coming up with reasons it happened, and they’re not even reasons, they’re-... they’re… God, I don’t know what. No, I do, I do. They’re excuses. Justifications. Even Kauri, even Kauri sometimes talks about how Owen Grant was lonely, like it fucking matters. They get hurt anyway, those assholes hurt them, Owen tried to kill them, and I’m supposed to, what, just… make it better, but not admit what was wrong in the first place?"

He groans, a sound that seems like it wells up against his will, comes pouring out of somewhere deep inside him that has been coiled and tense and twisted for his entire life. Water rushing through a canyon after the bursting of a dam.

“I just feel like… like I can’t get away from lying. I wanted to help people but I’m doing the same shit I’ve always done. And I can’t ever seem to stop it before it happens. Just... pick up the pieces."

“You feel like you are drawn to people who have been subjected to intense abuse because of your early years, and that it’s become a cycle of telling lies to protect them while perhaps not feeling like you are fully succeeding.” She rephrases it so succinctly, so perfectly, and, well… there’s a reason she’s the therapist and he’s just some guy who keeps the door open for hurting people to come in out of the cold.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you’ve been having a resurgence of this anger because of what happened with Kauri? It’s very understandable-”

“Not just him. I mean, yeah, that didn’t help, but…” He rubs at his left hand with his right. His fingertips spark and tingle, like his hands gone to sleep, only sometimes it doesn’t stop for hours at a time. He can’t really feel the pressure of his right hand through the nerves in his left, and like always, a part of him is cold with fear at what that means. “Ever since… ever since I was stabbed, really.”

“Since Jameson stabbed you.” She says it without blame or recrimination towards Jameson, simply names the events for what they are.

It helps.

God, it helps to hear someone else say it.

“Yeah, since, since then. Since Jameson stabbed me. Mostly because… there’s some kind of thing wrong with my arm, my hand, ever since. And I’m… I’m not telling them about it.”

“You’re lying to them about your injuries that came as a result of someone else’s loss of control over their actions, and this feels like your childhood with your father?”

“... it’s not-... my dad could have controlled it. My dad knew what he was doing, he wanted to hurt me, to hurt my mom. It’s not really the same. Jameson didn’t even know who I was. He has these flashbacks, worse than anyone else I’ve ever worked with, where he can be-... violent. Nat says it’s mostly under control, now, with his medication. He still has them occasionally, but now that he’s not in the house with someone who reminds him of the guy who hurt him, or one of them. Which… apparently I do. Remind him of one of those bastards, which, doesn't that feel great to hear."

Another bitter laugh.

“I mean, people always told me I was just like my dad-... that I looked just like him, I mean. Shit. Well, that’s a goddamn Freudian slip, huh?”

She pauses. “It does seem to suggest you have a certain amount of concern over repeating the cycle of abuse within your own relationships, yes. We can talk about that, but I want to stay with the worry you came in here carrying. It’s a heavy weight, Jake. A lifetime of practicing deception would be difficult for anyone, no matter their inner strength. Let me say that I do wonder if there isn’t an element of this injury weighing even more heavily on you because you are lying to the people you are usually lying for.”

That hits.

That hits hard.

He rubs at the skin between thumb and forefinger, pinching it as hard as he can. He barely feels it. “... probably. That’s probably true. But everyone is hurting, and they need me to be the strong one, you know?”

She pauses. Considers his words. “Do they, Jake?”

He’s so tired.

Jake wonders, idly, how many times he thinks about how tired he is, each and every day. How much of his life has been spent thinking those exact words, if you added together every single second?

“I think they do. I have to be in control, I have to be the one who doesn’t get torn apart, because they already have been. They need someone to always be the, the rock, you know? ‘The wise man builds his house upon the rock’, you ever heard that song?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Oh. It’s a church song, for kids. ‘The wise man builds his house upon the rock,’” Jake manages a slight tuneless singing, then lets it fade, an embarrassed flush marking his cheeks. “I have to be the rock.”

A bird sings outside the window, chirping happily, and Jake turns to look. Through the slits of the oversized wooden blinds, he can see it sitting at a bird feeder, happily dipping its beak to pick up seeds while a jealous squirrel chitters from a tree branch nearby.

“I would perhaps note that there are other places to build a house than on a solid, unmoving rock.” Dr. Berger doesn’t sound mocking, or like she’s being humorous or even lightly making fun of his thoughts. She follows him down the confusing trail of his conversation, and leads him back to the main path, the larger one where he can sort of see the next marker telling him where to turn. “Rock subjected to water will eventually crumble and wear away. It can shatter under pressure, you know. And it can be hard work to build a long-lasting foundation when you have to break into the stone to do it.”

“They built skyscrapers in New York by drilling into the bedrock,” Jake counters.

Dr. Berger smiles. “But skyscrapers must be built with flexibility, Jake. They sway, they shift, they move with the wind and the ground beneath them. Otherwise… well. Otherwise, they would just fall with the pressure caused by ordinary wind. The foundation is important, but so are the components used to create the structure itself.”

“I… can’t think of any other building metaphors to argue with,” Jake admits after a pause, and she laughs, warmly, and then he does, too. Some of the tightly coiled anxiety inside of him relents, just a little, and the anger goes with it. “In any case, the idea of the song is from a Bible verse. Uh, ‘everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house. Yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.’”

“I have seen houses pulled off the rock they were built on into flooded rivers,” Dr. Berger says softly, “And pulled apart by the water, left as just some wood and nails, Jake. I've seen videos of tornadoes picking a house up and turning it to puzzle pieces in seconds, no matter what it was built on. And anyone who had built a house on a rock without a basement would have been lifted up with it."

“Well, the idea isn’t exactly-... Jesus didn’t get to watch youtube videos. And I doubt He had much experience with tornadoes."

“No, He didn’t. When did you last read the Bible, Jake?”

“I don’t know. Long time ago. Don’t even own one any longer. Nat does, I think.” He rubs a hand over his face again. Maybe when he goes home he’ll lay down and ask if Kauri wants to nap with him.

“But you still had that bit about the rock, what, memorized?”

“Yeah. Turns out when you win the stupid Bible memorization quiz competition four years in a row, that shit sticks with you.”

“I can see that.” She hesitates, and then picks up the pen she’d been using to make the appointments for the runaways. She taps it lightly on her desk, over the oversized calendar she uses, that takes up most of the space in front of her. “Jake, you have spent a lot of years letting anger build up inside of you because you are afraid to express it. You’ve said as much, that you fear your resemblance to your father becoming more than simply physical. And mentioning this incident with Jameson, I think… to return to our incredibly tortured metaphor, I think… I think that that incident has been like increased wind, or pressure, and you are not able to shift or sway to hold yourself together, not forever. And Owen Grant’s attack on Kauri and Vince has increased that wind speed even more. You can’t keep going like this forever.”

“Probably not. But I can't stop, either. Who else can keep going, if I can’t? You know? If I don’t take care of everything, who’s going to?”

“They are. Kauri, Antoni, Chris. Everyone in your house. They adore you, Jake, and they are capable and probably more than happy to help you. But you have to be able to ask for and receive help in order for them to provide it.”

“Right. And how do I do that, exactly, when Kauri still looks like the attempted murder victim he is, Antoni won’t leave his side, and Chris has been calling himself names again since he saw them written on the wall at Laken’s? I mean, how do I ask for help from people who need help way more than I do?”

“It’s not a competition-”

“Sometimes it feels like it is.”

“I understand. Jake, I think you should start coming to see me. There’s a lot inside of you that you’ve been pushing down to help people. Providing that help is admirable, but if you keep going without slowing down or taking a breath, you’re going to collapse. I want you to have someone to talk to.”

“You?”

“Yes.” Dr. Berger smiles. “Me. I don’t mind. I’m actually easing out of taking regular patients, it’ll be time to retire for me soon, anyway. I have an opening on Thursday mornings. Would you like to start coming in at, say 9:30 in the morning? Each Thursday?”

Jake swallows, nods, then stops himself. “What do I tell the others I’m doing?”

“Jake.” Dr. Berger sighs, but her smile is still there. “You tell them exactly the truth. You’re going to therapy, too. Just like they do. You don’t lie to them about this, and we’re going to talk about how to stop lying about other things, too. Your deception has been self-protective, and protective of others, for so long that it’s become a survival mechanism. But you don’t need to protect yourself that way, not from your loved ones, not any longer.”

“It feels like it. It feels like I do.”

“Which is why I want to see you next Thursday, at 9:30 in the morning, coffee in hand.” She smiles. “Deal?”

He breathes out. His phone buzzes, and he glances down at it to see a message from Kauri. Three pizza emojis, question mark. If Kauri’s using emojis, today isn’t going well.

If Antoni is happy with Kauri asking him to order pizzas instead of offering to cook, today is really not going well.

Jesus, he’s so goddamn exhausted. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders.

“Deal,” He says, a little heavily. “Thursday, 9:30. Coffee in hand. Until then…”

“Until then, remind yourself that you’re allowed your anger. And they’re allowed to know about it, so that you can have fully honest expressions of your feelings with each other. Communication is key to a relationship, and I guarantee-... Jake, I guarantee that Antoni and Kauri are angry, too, about what’s happened. And that both of them are probably as frightened of expressing it as you are, if for different reasons. You have to talk to each other, and that means you, too.”

“... shit.”

Her smile widens slightly, wryly. “What? Hit the nail on the head?”

“Maybe a little bit. I guess there’s a reason you’re the therapist and not me.”

“I’m the therapist because what you and Nat do takes an amount of dedication and emotional strength that I don’t believe I am capable of. I admire the two of you immensely, Jake. You’ve no idea how much. But you both still need someone to help you, and I would love to be that person."

He feels his face burn hotter and looks away, huffing a little. “Right.”

“I’m quite serious. But just… think about what I said, okay? And we’ll start meeting professionally next week.”

“Got it. I think I need… I’m going to head home.” He pushes himself to his feet, and they say their goodbyes with Jake thinking it over, preoccupied as he walks out, hears the click of the door’s automatic lock behind him as he steps into the yellowish light. The scent of wildfire smoke sets his shoulders a little higher towards his chin, tenses his muscles.

The edge of the horizon, on one side, is still a little bit dark and orange.

The wildfires are under control, the news anchors say, but they’re still burning. The tragedy has already happened, there’s no prevention any longer, only recovery. Only trying to head it off before it gets any worse.

The trees are already stumps and ash, the wild animals have turned to blackened bone or escaped the inferno. Cars have wound their way down mountain roads burning on either side, vehicles packed to their roofs with whatever the people could take with them in the ten or twenty minutes they were given before they had to run, everything else left to be lost.

The bruises are already dark around Kauri’s throat and over his hips, his movements are already hesitant, his lips tremble when he wakes up, checking to be sure he isn't alone.

Jake has already been a little boy in the emergency room listening to his mother say his concussion is from falling on the pavement when it had been his father throwing him down, he’s already felt himself boil alive with rage he can’t let out.

He's already been a teenager with a black eye on a bus in the middle of the night, told that it was a mistake that he was ever born by one of the two people who should have loved him unconditionally.

In what used to be the forests, dark charcoal marks are already cut so deeply into the earth that they’ll be visible for a long, long time. The smoke is already visible, in some spots, from space.

The damage is already done.

They can’t undo the fires.

They can only work, now, to encourage the green things to grow back up over the scars.

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

98 notes · View notes

artist-issues · 4 months

Text

You know what else I would put in a Snow White Live Action retelling if I were Disney?

I'd put in a couple more scenes showing the relationship between Snow and the Queen.

I'd have the Queen be up late in the morning because she spent all night studying spell books or something, and then Snow notices she looks tired and brings her an apple, neatly sliced, without being asked. And then the Queen smashes the plate and makes Snow clean it up, because she hates Snow White and in her mind the girl's simple act of kindness was just a reminder that the Queen "looked" tired (and therefore less beautiful.)

I'd have Snow White go to the market and find just the right color thread to stitch up a hole in the Queen's purple cloak, because she noticed it's getting worn down, but then the Queen burns the whole thing and orders her back into the market to buy a whole new cloak instead.

I'd have Snow White consistently trying to feed and befriend the Queen's raven, picking up after it, making it new perches to land on around the castle in her spare time, bringing it treats; but it hates her, which is what makes the Queen like the raven in the first place.

I'd just show how Snow White is not only desperate to be loved, but to love—she's a born motherly soul, super caring, and is never happier than when she gets to take care of someone's needs and make their lives easier. Not necessarily because it'll make them like her—but because she genuinely wants them to be happy. And of course, nothing she can do will make the Queen happy. The stepmother refuses to be loved in any way by her stepdaughter.

So then no wonder Snow White befriends the doves (typically shy easily-frightened creatures) and woodland animals, and is so ready to take care of the Dwarfs even when they haven't accepted her yet. It's why she pays special attention to Grumpy, who won't let her do him any good at first.

I'd just show that a lot more often in the live action movie, in ways that really make you hurt for Snow White—and celebrate with her, when she finally gets a whole family of Dwarfs and her Prince to love and be loved by.

#Snow White is a caretaker #Snow White #pure love #Snow #Disney princesses #Snow white and the seven dwarfs #grumpy #the evil queen #evil queen #the prince #Snow White 2024 #live action #live action Snow White #au #headcanon #rewrite #Disney #real Disney #Disney fandom

94 notes · View notes

rammbles4848476216172783030340 · 9 months

Text

Imagine Caretaker who genuinely cares about Whumpee,knows every problems of their, always tries to make them feel comfortable, safe and appreciated, tolerates their tantrum, soothes them, helps them when Whumpee truly needs it and gives them space and etc.

But when Caretaker find time for themselves, they blow off some steam in clubs/bars/other companies where they can go rowdy/feel loved and taken care of/relax/pour their emotions on someone so they can be collected in front of Whumpee.

Caretaker's "days off" dont happen often, really rare. And imagine one day some of the "acquitances" of Caretaker meets Whumpee at some point or Whumpee hears rumors or Whumper shows them the truth about Caretaker. How would they react? Would they feel jealous that someone touched them in that way? Or feel disgust/distrust as their image of Caretaker is ruined?

#otp prompts #whumpee #whump prompt #caretaker #caretaker x whumpee #whumpee x caretaker #tropes #whump trope #writing trope #grumpy sunshine trope #recovery #emotions

38 notes · View notes

naranjapetrificada · 9 months

Note

Consider this your opportunity to be an Astrology Bitch and go off about Leo Stede!

(signed, a Virgo sun, Cancer moon, Capricorn rising who simultaneously is and is not an Astrology Bitch, more of a Tarot Bitch tbh)

Okay! You asked for it lol.

I should start by saying that I'm an August Leo sun. Stede is a July Leo, as confirmed by the show:

July Leos are...different somehow? It's not a bad thing and it's not their fault, and if anybody else comes for them we August Leo's will throw down for our siblings, but there's something about the vibes! Maybe it's the Cancer proximity, idk. If anything my anecdata suggests that they're more well adjusted than the rest of us. 🦁❤️🦁

Anyway, I immediately sat up and noticed when they cut to the gravestones because it's second nature for me as an Astrology Gay. Obviously I didn't know Stede at the time and I don't actually know what went down as the character was developed, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if I learned that at least one person in the writers room was a fellow Astrology Gay.

So I completely forgot about his birthdate because a) ADHD and b) swooniest romance I'd ever seen, but I started thinking about it again when I showed up like a year late to the fandom and saw people talk about whether they were Ed coded or Stede coded. I am heavily, heavily Stede coded for neurodivergent reasons, but he also exhibits certain Very Leo traits that I recognized immediately.

Leo stereotypes:

Let's get the stereotypes out of the way because while they do apply sometimes (especially for Stede), there's no need to rehash them in detail.

Leadership, which he struggles with at first but a) takes up the mantle of it anyway and b) improves enough that by the end of the season the crew that wanted to mutiny saves his life.

Good hair. Nuff said.

The man has an auxiliary wardrobe for fucks sake.

His "theatrical instincts are finely honed" and while Izzy says it to encourage the fuckery, it's not a lie.

The Revenge

If an 18th century Leo was going to custom build a pirate ship and money was no object, they would 1000% build the Revenge. I could see arguing that a Taurus might build something similar, but honestly I'm not sure a Taurus would become a pirate by choice. Maybe a Taurus might build like, a pleasure yacht or something. A Libra might build a ship that's as good-looking as the Revenge but sharing expensive tastes isn't enough to convince me either. Stede's money allowed him to build and decorate luxuriously, but plenty of rich people used to comfort didn't have ships like the Revenge. As Nigel says during his tour, it's just so incredibly him.

Now for some feelings stuff:

Leos love it when other people are happy, and when we can be involved in fostering that at all for people we care about we are ON IT. Stede wants to create space for others to get what they need to make that happen. Literally in the first episode he talks about the Revenge as somewhere for his crew to work on their trauma and communicate their feelings.

The above is also an extension of Stede's instinctive generosity. Canon doesn't tell us where Ed got his clothes for the French boat party in episode 5, but given that Stede has an auxiliary wardrobe (which he shared with Ed almost immediately) the most likely scenario seems like he loaned (or maybe even gave!) it to Ed. Another possibility is that it was on the ship where Frenchie found his and Oluwande's outfits, but the purple jacket in particular seems very extra in a way that says "Stede" to me.

Speaking of episode 5, let's talk about the party game. Obviously the main takeaway is that Stede has enough of a handle on passive aggression to make the French assholes tear each other apart, but it's not just the passive aggression, it's in the delivery. With sufficient motivation (Ed's hurt feelings, if not his own) we see Stede command the room with confidence. He chooses his targets well. He knows just what to say to get them to agree to play the game at all. The fire wasn't part of the original plan but it shows just how powerful those hard-won skills are when he wants to apply them. (This doesn't feel like it merits its own bullet point but Leos are protective, ride-or-die friends, something else we see in this episode.)

Stede's love language, imo, is quality time. There are arguments for others (there's also a really good meta about his love language causing miscommunication with our touchy-feely boy Ed, if I can find the link I'll edit) but quality time seems the most appropriate to me. Another part of the whole generosity of spirit thing is that he seems to enjoy what a friend of mine called "engineering experiences" for people i.e. crafting activities and jam sessions for the crew. The most obvious of these is the treasure hunt for Ed, which of course comes out of his fear of Ed leaving, but it's also a way for them to spend time together. I'm not at all surprised that a lonely, bullied kid would grow up to value quality time.

I would also extend this to the clearly routine (but still extravagant) breakfast for two that we see Calico Jack crashing in episode 8. Not to mention the first breakfast he and Ed ever share up on the maintop in episode 4. It's not fancy, but he wakes Ed up to share in that moment because he's enjoying the sunrise and the marmalade, and I can't think of anything more Leo than enjoying something then immediately wanting to share it because someone else might enjoy it too.

Stede's not perfect of course, despite all those seemingly positive things I just said. In the way of some Leos he is frequently thoughtless, up to and including when he didn't make to the dock. I can't speak for every Leo but I have definitely accidentally flirted with/been read as flirting with people before, whether I was attracted to them or not. And yeah his quarters are nice but he could have used some of that space for more crew quarters, right? And how could a Leo possibly misread "what makes Ed happy is you" as badly as he did?

Well I may be an Astrology Binch but I mostly like it (and anything else that puts personalities into discrete groups) as an analysis tool. It's just a fun lens to examine behaviors through, IRL and with fictional characters. Also, the show is clearly trying to examine things like trauma and self-loathing in ways that are gonna inform character behavior way more than a hypothetical astrology enthusiast in the (admittedly pretty queer) writers room. But the vibes? The vibes are so there.

#There's also an entire essay I could write about Leo traits people don't notice or care about but I can do that later #Rhys isn't a Leo though Taika is #Rhys is an Aries and Aries/Leo friendships and relationships can work out extremely well #I appreciate Taika for his Leo vibes #which are not the expected ones #I love seeing a Leo who seems occasionally bored during interviews and stuff #more grumpy Leo representation please #stede bonnet #because this next one came up in the results for Stede's name I'll add it too #stede bonnet has a caretaking kink #which isn't not a Leo thing either lol #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #our flag means death meta #character meta #astrology is fake but #fictional character astrology #oh also let's not forget all that sunny Leo energy that's part of so much Stede fanon #that feels relevant #afaik we don't have a birthdate for Ed #but it wouldn't surprise me at all to learn he was a Scorpio because the man can BROOD #I can also see him as a couple other signs though so I would need to think about it for a bit longer first #also I couldn't shoehorn it in but something about the difference between confidence and self esteem #Leos can definitely have one but not the other #*points to self*

26 notes · View notes

dirtytransmasc · 1 year

Note

I love the tsu'tey lives au and the Spellman siblings! 💙🩵

I can't help but wonder how'd Tsu'tey react to them and their situation, especially if he didn't realize/notice the whole thing (the siblings adopting/raising Spider & living at Hell's Gate) till later on when the twin where like 13/14.

((I know he'd probably notice earlier bit we can pretend that he was busy with adjusting to life with his injuries/helping Jake be olo'eyktan))

he knew of the infamous 'spellman siblings' around the village, a group of 3 - previously four - children who were incredibly intelligent, prone to violence, and extremely protective of spider. he also knew they were raised by norm spellman, the 'nerd' as jake called him.

spider talked of them frequently, he was practically obsessed with the kids, many would argue they were family. tsu'tey, as much as he loved the kid, was happy to have another set of hands helping him out when he was stretched thin. he had a lot on his plate, jake needing guidance as the new olo'ekytan, his own disabilities to learn to work around, a rambunctious toddler/child (why did they grow so fast? he looked away for five seconds and the little five year old clinging to his leg was suddenly almost 10 and very much not a toddler anymore. it broke his heart a little more then he'd like to admit). he had met the kids a few times, though they seemed weary of the village people, himself included; he knew some had harsh feelings on them taking spider in, he faced it himself, and had attempted to squash it with little success. but even when he tried reaching out to the little ones, they shied away from him as well; knowing they lost so much so young, has been raised by an avatar in a lab, and had formed a bit of a secluded bond to spider, made him assume that they were just shy kids who clung to familiar family.

he had just assumed that spider was in their care while out in the world, and went home with them to his adoptive family, or at very least the 'nerd.' he was wrong. sure he saw the signs of neglect in the little human, it was easy when he was the odd one out, when the reason for his neglect was obvious (even if it was wrong, tsu'tey knew, and had excepted why it happened). it was a lot harder to spot it in kids that already had their own issues before the neglect began; the loss of their elder sister, amongst many other children they were close with, shot in front of them. the death of their parents, their people, their home. it spelled trouble for their young minds, so tsu'tey stupidly assumed that had been the reason the whole time, not the fact they were being raised by people on screens and raising an orphan on their own.

he realized it slowly, over the span of a few months, something was off, more off than he could stomach. it was little things; the older two were defensive against any adults, including the man that should be their father, being near spider. this extended to him, and it took spider begging and promising that tsu'tey was ok, "he's not like them" he said. then he realized how they never spoke of parents, not their own, not norm, not the scientists, or the adoptive family of spiders. they didn't have parents, they had each other, and that was it. then as they began spending more and more time at Hellsgate, their stuff, their voices, there presence began to dwindle from the village, until one day they were gone. as spider trained under tsu'tey the kids became more and more used to his presence, and clung to him more and more each day. something was wrong, so wrong, and he couldn't put his finger on it.

then he talked to norm, who claimed they had 'aged out' of his care, said they stopped seeing him as a dad, so he let them go on with their own lives. he assumed they were fine, and not wanting to overstep as the 'second' parent.

he talked to the siblings, hoping, praying, that somehow, someway, what they were going to say would fix this, make this normal. it didn't. when they took on spider, and norm didn't take him in as his own, didn't try, even when he knows the poor thing needed it. when norm rejected spider, the twins rejected him, and set out to be parents to their two younger siblings.

after that, he slowly built a relationship with the kids, inviting them to stay with him and spider (he stayed with him once a week), sleeping their hammock, eat meals with them, join them for lessons. eventually he works them back into the village, not completely, norm may not be there home, but the lab was, and spider couldn't stay out in the village every night, it was too dangerous. but he did make them feel like they had a place, a home, someone to love them and take care of them and their fragile baby brother.

he has a bone to pick with the people of hellsgate by the end of his little discovery and attempts to mend the damage of said discovery, but, at the end of the day he had 4 kids instead of one, a little family to call his own, and he got introduced to digital media, which movie nights are a win in his mind. cause listen, he is disabled, stressed out with jake and all the other adults being stupid, and 4, wildly smart and energetic kids. having a time where he can lay out and relax in a pillow fort, with his kids in his arms, watching some shitty (amazing, cause the siblings have amazing taste) human movies, that sounds pretty nice to him.

#they showed him httyd and he cried like a big baby #soft tsu'tey #tsu'tey #now I'm making him collect little brats because I can #its my mental illness I get to write characters completely ooc for my own comfort #no one can stop me #plus I want my baby's to be happy #spider socorro #miles socorro #miles spider socorro #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #spellman siblings #they've all been through too much #plus gruff grumpy dad who pretends he didn't sign up for it being the most nurturing caretaker ever to already emotionally fucked up kids?#throw in the fact that he's disabled and kinda miserable with life #losing his (arguably) soulmate in sylwanin #losing his home and future title in the span of a week #he's a sad dude and all the sudden he's got 4 kids in the blink of an eye and everything just #ok again #he's ok #I love that for him #Spider te Rongloa Tsu'tey'itan

70 notes · View notes

fissions-chips · 9 months

Text

Thinking again about Winged AU.

Tim leaving for a couple days for business reasons, leaving Butler and Jon alone together. Usually, Tim sits with both of them for nightly preening sessions- with him gone, there’s no one else to help with those impossible-to-reach feathers on their backs.

Mournfully and reluctantly, that leaves both of them with each only each other.

#*slams fist down* BEGRUDGING. CARETAKING. i adore.#additional potential point of conflict in jealous butler?? maybe. but either way. both of them just being very grumpy but also missing Tim.#so they just suck it up. both of them heavily vue appearances after all- they can’t afford to have messy feathers #*value

5 notes · View notes

waterfallofspace · 8 months

Note

Not a req but like I had this sudden VISION… Teruko showing her caring side when any of the other hunting dogs get sick and still come to work. Like she cares, I know she cares. She’d worry and be more sweet, less loud and such I just feel it and I want your thoughts?~ are you seeing my vision?

So uh... yes. I am in fact seeing your vision.

Awww just- I know the boys would be so grumpy about it, (at least most of them <3) and just... her being a little quieter when she noticed J/ouno flinching at the loud volumes, a bottle of pain meds suddenly showing up on his desk.

And when T/etchou wakes up from his lightly feverish nap on the couch to find a blanket wrapped around him and T/eruko pressed against him pointedly reading a book (and NOT glancing over with thinly veiled concern), well he just curls deeper into himself.

When T/achihara finds his third box of tissues placed in his bag without a word about the frequency of the fits, there's not a doubt in his mind who put them there.

F/ukuchi tends to point it out a little more, a few throaty chuckles when there's a hand on his back during a particularly rough bout of coughing. Maybe a pointed "You're walking all by yourself?!" when the other members are visibly exhausted by the end of the day.

Just- absolutely caring acts, but no outward accepting of concern/worry. Except a few moments where she'll break, and end up asking 'are you alright..?' which of course is always followed by a more shrill 'NOt ThaT I cARE' to save face <3 (It's okay, they all know she doesn't mean it~)

#waterfallasks #whoops this is a bit long- sorry for dashboard spam!!#thank you for the ask papaya~ I adore this concept!!#I feel like she'd absolutely be the like... distinctly NOT grumpy caretaker #but not too outwardly sweet either???#like she jumps between “i care” immediately followed by “NO I DON'T” (as she continues to show with her actions that she definitely DOES <3

4 notes · View notes

cheezyharu · 1 year

Text

Pokeddexy 2023 | day 28: Cutest Pokemon

Can't exactly decide between Alcremie, Pachirisu and Fidough, so I just go for all 3!

(extra ramblings under cut)

hey everyone! Originally I was gonna post this last night, but sleeping for only 3 hours the night prior and back to school post break hits me a bit harder than I expected :P

Supposedly today IS the final day for Pokeddexy, but because of reasons above (and slight delays before because homework is pain) my best bet is that this challenge won't be finished until the end of this week.

I only have 3 days left, I'm not gonna give up this far, not anymore, ESPECIALLY when I'm so excited to do day 31

14 notes · View notes

trusthevillain · 4 months

Text

"I am not apologizing for keeping you alive", Hero grumbled as they placed Villain on a safe place.

"Keeping me alive? You humiliated me! You begged for my life! I rather be dead than live after that."

"Then go jump of a fucking bridge, you ungrateful moron. I don't care. I did what I had to do and I'd do it again."

#villain #hero x supervillain #villain arc #hero x villain #villain prompt #villain x hero #angst dialogue #angry prompt #hero caretaker #grumpy caretaker

189 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 2 years

Note

🌸 😭 for sweet boy Vince

CW: PTSD, referenced alcoholism and withdrawal, referenced death

Takes place after the end of the Same Bed Arc

"You can't cry in there." The voice is raspy and muffled through the door. The pounding of a fist against it, though, is louder. Vince leans over, elbows on his knees and his hands pressed against his face. His palms are sweaty, it trickles down the back of his neck to soak into his t-shirt, joining the damp spots already growing. Designer shirts soak up sweat and tears just like the cheap ones, in the end.

He doesn't answer the voice.

Maybe if he doesn't answer, it'll just go away, and leave him here to be miserable and self-pitying and all the things the podcasts his old therapist used to tell him to listen to tell him not to be. Visualize self-confidence growing within you, like you've planted a seed of understanding...

He might be laughing, now. It's sort of hard to tell, because tears are still dampening his cheeks underneath his palms. His shoulders are shaking, just like his hands.

"I don't understand anything," He mutters, and wonders how many people would hate him if they knew the truth, that Vincent Shield is hiding in a house in a poor neighborhood, that he loathes his fortune and fame, that it was never worth the price he agreed to pay.

It had never been worth the deal he and Carlotta Grant had agreed to, it had never been worth all the nights he sat up drinking until he drowned out the voice of Owen against his ear. It wasn't worth Kauri's desperate dying struggle to survive on top of him. It wasn't ever worth it.

God, he wants a drink.

He needs a drink.

A moment later, the pounding starts up again. "Hey! I said you can't cry in there!"

Vince groans, sitting back up and rolling his head back to stare up at the ceiling as he drops his hands, silently entreating the flat off-white tile marked with evidence of a half-dozen repairs made over the decades to somehow intervene with him on this.

Nothing happens.

"Why the hell can't I?" He asks, willing his voice to stay calm and even. It only wobbles a little. He's sort of proud of that.

Once an actor, always an actor. Good job, Shield, too bad you're pretty sure you'll never act again.

"Because the other bathroom's broken, remember? Go cry somewhere else, literally anywhere fucking else, dumbass!"

Vince pushes to his feet, reluctantly, and goes to the door, pulling the little hook up to unlock it. It swings open inside on creaky old hinges, and he's face to face with Nat's only current resident runaway. "Fine. I'll go. Hope you're happy."

"I wasn't made for happiness." Jameson's eyes narrow, searching his face. "You look like shit, Shield."

"Thanks," Vince says heavily, moving past him into the hallway. "You look like someone got real drunk and took a lawn mower to your head and the grass just started growing back in."

He waits for the vitriol Jameson will spit, but there's only silence. Vince makes it a few steps before guilt makes him turn back, mouth open to apologize.

But Jameson doesn't look angry. Instead, he's looking at him over his shoulder. And he's smiling, crooked and pulled up more on one side than the other, emphasizing a deep scar from some long-ago blade. "Hey, so you do have a spine. Nicely done."

"Uh... thanks. Look, I'm sorry, I'm just having some trouble-"

"We're all having trouble. I've said worse things to better people. Just... you know what, come on." Vince, despite being about ten years older, is pulled along like a child when Jameson grabs him by the wrist, down the upstairs hallway to a room at the end of the hall. When the door opens, Vince is hit with the smell of old paper, books and dust and time. The room's a disaster area - just piles of storage. A giant old wooden desk with boxes and boxes on top of it. There's boxes stacked everywhere, some half-open, some closed. Yellowing papers half-fall from old photo albums.

"Wh-... what-"

"You can cry in here," Jameson says, letting his arm drop and gesturing inside. "I do. Or my closet, but this is a good spot, because you're alone and people mostly don't look. You can get under the desk, or, like, look real sad out the window... I get it. This is where I go when I want to think about him but I don't want to talk about him, you know?"

Vince's throat tightens, and he has to swallow past the growing constriction. His bruises are fading, now, but the memory of Owen's hands around his throat never seems to leave. He looks over at a framed photo on the wall, black-and-white, of two people that look immensely unhappy squinting out at whoever held the camera. "Him?"

"Yeah. Mine was a 'him'. Yours is that Owen motherfucker. There's always somebody to cry about, right? And... I don't know. You, uh. You seem like maybe you loved yours, a little bit, too."

"No, I-... I didn't want him like th-that-... I told him no-"

"I didn't say that you wanted to fuck him, Shield. I just said maybe you loved him a little, before all the trying to murder you shit." Jameson shrugs. "Fuck off if you don't like it, it was just a thought. Just trying to help, fuck me for trying."

This time, when he turns to go, Vince is the one who grabs his arm with one hand. Jameson turns to look back at him, and Vince searches his face, trying to understand what he sees there. Derision, dismissal, but something like compassion, too.

"Wait," Vince says, and his voice is hoarse. He can feel tears all over again, and he fights hard to push them down. How was it always so easy to cry on command in the movies, but he can't control shit now that he's here and it's over? "Wait, just. I'm sorry. You're right. He was my-... my best friend, when we were kids. He was my... my only real friend, ever, before Nat."

"That creep was your only friend? That's really fucking sad," Jameson says, and they both laugh - Vince the airy breathy laughter of someone about to fall apart, and Jameson the barely-there sound of someone trying not to mock, just gently rib towards good humor.

"It is, oh my God, it is so fucking sad," Vince groans, and finds himself sliding to the ground, ignoring the spike of pain right up his spine. He isn't fully healed yet. It aches, in so many places. It aches deep inside of him worse. "We did everything together, for years. We were everything for-... for each other. For years. And I-... I had to-"

"I know." Jameson, with a grunt of pain of his own, slowly makes his way down to seated as well. He has to balance himself carefully, and Vince notices how his legs don't quite bend all the way, how he kicks them out to one side.

"Yeah, I just-... I thought I'd gotten away, and then he sent flowers and showed up at my house and then there was-... I thought he'd killed Kauri. I think he had his corpse on top of me, that it was over, it... It was like watching him murder me, from outside myself, like... like watching myself die under his hands, because I c-couldn't save me, and just... I had to-... I had to-"

"You did." Jameson nods, and when he reaches out Vince grabs onto his hands and holds tight. "You had to do it, Shield, I get it. I did it, too, twice. I'd do it again. But... but I get how it doesn't... leave your head, after, does it?"

"No," Vince says, and his voice breaks. His head drops as the sob escapes his attempts to hold it back, and he leans forward, with Jameson pulling him gently, until his forehead rests on the other man's shoulder, until his hands are gripped into the fabric of an old thrift-store t-shirt. Until the tears break through again and he doesn't quite drown, because someone else is holding him up. "I see it-... every night I see how he looked when I-... but I h-had to-"

"You had to," Jameson repeats, softly. He slides his arms slowly around Vince. "You had to, and Kauri's alive because you did. You saved a life."

"I took a life-"

"You saved Kauri's when you did. And yours. Sometimes the motherfuckers have to die so that you don't, that's how it works for us. And you never wore a collar, but you're one of us, or good as anyway."

"I murdered someone!"

"But he didn't get to murder you."

Vince clings to that small, slim thread of comfort, the single shining bright spot in the well of darkness within him. And Jameson holds on until Vince is ready - and able - to let go.

"Jesus, I want a drink so much," Vince says, and hates himself for the childlike whine in his voice, hates the way his mouth is dry and his hands keep shaking. "I just want a drink-"

"Sorry, no booze allowed," Jameson says, but there's no vitriol in his voice any longer. "But can I interest you in a can of Spam she has in the kitchen cabinets for some godawful reason? That's kind of like alcohol, in that it's probably really bad for your liver."

They both laugh again, and Vince shakes his head, hair brushing the side of Jameson's neck. "N-no thanks. But... thanks, Jameson."

"Yeah, whatever. Come in here if you want to cry, it's a good spot for it. But don't use the fucking bathroom for it anymore, at least 'til she gets the downstairs fixed."

"Right. God, I was living in a mansion before this-"

"Yeah, it was fuck-ugly and looked like if a refrigerator married the internet and had an awful baby. This house is better. Now, I need to go to the bathroom for real."

With another grunt of pain, Jameson pulls away to get to his feet, and Vince watches him leave, how he limps a little when he wasn't limping just a few minutes ago. How it must have cost him to get down on the floor and back up again.

He looks around at the room full of the passage of time, and exhales as he takes in the dust and the age of everything around him.

"Yeah," He breathes, and finds himself calming. "This house is better."

#whump #vincent shield is not a hero #jameson bb #ptsd tw #referenced death #referenced murder #nightmares tw #trauma recovery #recovering whumpee #trauma recovery tw #bbu #box boy universe #grumpy caretaker #caretaker and whumpee #healing injuries

89 notes · View notes