To Ward haters

You probably shouldn’t read this if you know you are right about that Nazi douchebag who got what he deserved.

But if you want to hear why someone (in this case: me) might like him, relate to him and be still hurt over his death eight months later (disclaimer: not excusing), feel free to read.

To everyone else:


This is personal and was brought on by that Anti Ward post.

Do you ever scream in complete hopelesness and helplesness because you kind of wish you never watched this f*cking d*mn show - because then I could have stayed that naive and blisfully ignorant still?

Ten months ago I didn’t know a thing about victim blaming, rape apologists and double standards. Ten months ago I didn’t know a thing about “social justice” and “social justice warriors”. Ten months ago I didn’t know what “white cis male” meant and why it was an unforgivable crime to be born one.

I didn’t know that world was irreparably divided between “white” and “POC” - and Heaven forbid you dare to think otherwise. I didn’t know that world was even more irreparably divided between “men” and “women” - and Heaven forbid you dare to think that equality means, you know, equality.  (And if you think I’ve never been called names for my race, nationality, religion, gender and skin color, you’re wrong - I just never thought that all the people sharing the nation with the ones who offended me were the same. I have never thought in terms of “us” vs. “them” and no pursuit of social justice is going to convince me otherwise. I didn’t learn English language to be lectured about what and how I should believe in.)

In the last ten months I learned more than I wanted to know about abuse, brainwashing, cults, indoctrination and gaslighting.

I found out that humans can be capable of vicious bullying, tormenting and attacking all under the guise of having moral high ground. I found out that humans can be capable of not having even a shred of compassion, mercy or just plain any brains at all.

And no, having compassion is not equal to excusing, understanding is not equal to hand-waving the committed crimes, relating to someone is not equal to whitewashing the ugly and horrible things they do.

And yes. I relate to Grant Ward. No, not because I have suffered abuse or anything of the sort.

No, not because he’s hot and I’m silly fangirl ready to brush off everything bad he did. No, not because he’s a poor mistreated woobie and I’m a sucker for tragic sob stories™ and Freudian excuse™. No, not because he’s so misunderstood and I’m stupid to think that bad boys can be redeemed with Love™.

Have you ever had to admit that you are weak and you were wrong?

Have you ever felt shame and guilt - and known that a “sorry” can’t fix it?

Have you ever been so ashamed of yourself you couldn’t do something as simple as just apologize because the words were stuck in your throat and you wished you never existed?

Have you ever felt regret - and have to live knowing that you will not be forgiven and don’t have even a chance to try and apologize?

Have you ever went along with a peer pressure - and you despised yourself for that cowardice - and you were terrified when you asked yourself “what else am I capable of doing - in just the right circumstances and with just the right persuasion?”

Have you ever thought that 

you weren’t worth anything, that what you said or did didn’t have any meaning?

Have you ever felt hate? Not anger, not rage, not fury, hate? The one where you wanted everyone to suffer just so they would understand? The one where you wanted the whole world indiscriminately to burn? The one that left you unable to breathe, to sleep, to enjoy life because somewhere that person simply is?

Have you ever been despised and had people be disgusted with you? And you did what you could to turn their contempt into hate - because it was more bearable that way?

Have you ever despised yourself - but wished more than anything, wished despite knowing that you don’t deserve it that someone will be able to understand you? Not excuse, not forgive, just say “I understand”?

Have you ever hated yourself - for all of the above? Hated for even having this kind of thoughts, this kind of feelings? Because good people don’t have such thoughts, don’t have such feelings. Good people forgive, good people stay good no matter their hardships, good people always choose good, good people are above such behavior.

Have you ever been told to handle it, get a grip of yourself, you don’t even have an excuse of having trauma to be like that, you think you’ve suffered - don’t be ridiculous, it’s whiny little kid’s complains compared to what other people lived?

Sometimes I think I would have been better off have I not watched this stupid show. And haven’t found out that people can be so blind and self-righteous in their judgment and deciding who gets to be called good upstanding moral heroic people and who gets to be called Nazi apologists, rape apologists and generally horrible people who should be locked away from normal people.

My faith in humanity was destroyed then I’ve first read the anti SWW posts. I’m totally serious. I had a nervous breakdown and spent a month in a haze. Since then I had to rearrange my whole worldview and I’m sure I haven’t exactly succeeded.

*you can start laughing now*

Then again

at least one good thing came out of it. I met Grant.

And SWW. And I found out that I’m actually capable of forgiveness, that I’m capable of letting go of my decade-long grudges, that I’m capable of being who I am, that I’m capable of accepting myself, that I’m capable of forgiving myself for being human.

And it’s all because of him. You know, that Nazi thundercunt who died alone on an alien planet, died slowly and painfully and hated by everyone.

So, if liking Grant Ward makes me a horrible person, Nazi, misogynist, racist and whatever else it was, please, do continue thinking so, be my guest.

But you can’t make me feel ashamed for liking him, finding something worth respect in him, finding something worth in him, period.

I believe in Grant Ward.

And it doesn’t matter that he’s dead.

@bringmesomepie56 reblogged your post and added:

I do what I can. Hope that’s a good whoa. 😉 I’m still not 100%, but Dean always makes me feel better. It more ways than one. Thanks for asking!

It’s a very good whoa, sweets ;) Sure, you’re welcome. Glad to hear you’re slowly getting better <3 Below I wrote a little something to make you feel better.

Groaning, you tried to prop yourself on your elbows and sit more comfortably but your body betrayed you, a painful cramp in your back making you hiss loudly.

“Son of a bitch!” You shouted, helplesness making you angry and sad. You’ve never caught cold, not even once, and there you were, feeling llike a truck ran over you. You were coughing and sneezing the whole night, your head hurting like hell, so you got only a bit, close to almost no sleep that night.

On top of that, the boys were on a hunt so there was no one to go grocery shopping or make you something better to eat than takeout.

You reached to the left side of the bed, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on. Flipping through channels, you settled on some chick flick, hoping it would bore you to death and help you fall asleep. You were right.

You were woke by a light kiss to your forehead, your eyes opening slowly to a sight of your boyfriend hovering over you.

“Hey babe.” Dean said, smiling softly as you yawned. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick, huh? I’d ditch this hunt and come back home earlier.” He sat on the bed and took your hand in his.

“I didn’t want to do that.” You stuttered out, your throat sore. “You saved someone and I’m able to take care of myself. Thank you very much.” You groaned, stretching out on the bed.

“Oh really? The kitchen is full of pizza and take out boxes. You call this taking care of yourself?” Dean put on his epic bitch face and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, fine. I have no idea what I’m doing.” You admitted, brushing the hair away from your face. Great. It was sticking to your forehead. It could only mean fever.

“Then it’s a good thing I know what I’m doing.” He said and, without a warning, picked you up bridal style, earning a surprised squeak from you. “I’m taking you to the kitchen. I made some tomato rice soup for you. My mom’s recipe. Always made me feel better, will make you feel better too.” Dean beamed with pride and you flashed him a grin, nodding slowly.

“Let’s go then!” You said in a cheerful voice and he chuckled, carrying you out of the room and into the kitchen.

Seeing the now cleaned room, a bowl of soup on the table, feeling a blanket being draped over your shoulders just when you were sat on a chair made one thought appear in your mind.

You had the best boyfriend in the world.