#at least all the other products i tried were fine. see; this is what’s weird to me

[fingertipsmp3]

I’m so tired of my skin. I’ll be like “can I use this new product?” and it’s like “NO and now you’re going to be red for a week because I hate you <3”

[silentcryracha]

❍ ‗ Taking care of you during your period x hyung line (skz) ‗ ❍

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Pairings : Chan x reader, Minho x reader, Changbin x reader, Hyunjin x reader

Genre/warnings : reader has periods, breasts are mentioned, mention of painkillers/mood swings/blood (yk), nothing else just fluff and really sweet boys

Summary : Like the title says, the oldest boys take care of you when you have your period. You are their s/o in this. Half headcanon and half scenarios.

Word count : 1.5 k

A/n : I'm currently on the FLOOR trying to get through this so I just, indulged myself I guess lmao! I hope it'll be an enjoyable read and also if any of y'all is also suffering now, good luck babes we got this <3

ps: There could be grammar errors, my first language isn't english!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Chan ‗ ❍

First of all, he wouldn't be weirded out or immature about it at all, he grew up with women in his family so he wouldn't be completely oblivious. Second thing, he seems to be natually very nurturing and attentive, so you know for sure that you'd be well taken care of, more than usual.

Depending on how this time of the month would be for you, he'd act accordingly. For example, if you are usually on time or late, if you tend to suffer more or less. In general he'd probably remember the days/week and always make sure to have a little bit of every essential thing at home beforehand. Sanitary products, painkillers, snacks, comfort food; you name it, he got it. Wether you lived together or not, doesn't matter.

In the best case scenario you'd just be having a shitty day and he would make sure to spend time with you (full day if he's not working, and even then he'd check on you multiple times), taking care of you, cuddling and probably babying you more than you need. And you'd let him of course, even just to show him you appreciated him caring for you. He would be really attentive but... chill at the same time. He just wants you to be comfortable, not further stress you out.

On the other hand, if you were someone who usually hurt a lot or maybe had some issues related to your condition, then he would be more clingy. If hugs and cuddles were an actual solution you'd be CURED.

He hated seeing you in pain regardless, but if the pain in question was out of the norm/more severe he would absolutely be in the worst mood. Again, every supply possible would to be 100% ready at the right times, and you truly wouldn't be allowed to lift a finger.

"Channie, baby, I've been handling this stuff since forever, I'll be fine, okay?" and then he'd frown and pout like "But I want to take care of my baby, that's the least I can do". Of course you wouldn't be able to refuse him even if you wanted to, so you'd just end up accepting the help making sure to thank him all the time to let him know how grateful you were for him. <3

Minho ‗ ❍

Minho just kind of learned along the way how to take care of you at the best of his abilities. Something that seems to be very important to him is health, and you having your period to him it's almost like a seasonal cold. Something that just kind of happens? He would learn which foods or beverages help the pain/body, or the things that would make you feel better, but he'd be kinda random about it? lol.

"You know what? I really feel like eating some good meat for dinner" and he'd pull some shit like "Actually, I was thinking of salmon for tonight. You know, it would be very good for you now", Not gonna lie you would be lowkey impressed that he bothered to search up stuff like that in the first place. He wouldn't be pushy though, he couldn't deny you even if he tried. Want a specific dinner/dessert? It's yours. You want to watch a movie and cuddle? Done. Or do you just want to sleep and hug? Good enough for him. He just really wants you to have a calm and comfortable day.

This being handled as a health matter would also mean that he'd probably be quite precise with keeping track of the days/week. If being irregular wasn't a usual thing for you, one day late and he'd be asking questions lol.

"How are you feeling?" "Do you need anything from the store?" "Need any help?" and so on. Especially if we were talking about a person with more severe pain/issues.

At this point he would be a little more insistent with the whole "take care of yourself right" but only out of worry and you knew it. "I made some ginger tea for you" "But-" and you wouldn't be able to finish the sentence without him raising one eyebrow like 'I dare you'. Two minutes after the cup was EMPTY. You'd also get belly rubs with warm hands afterwards so it's okay :')

Minho would never miss to make you feel loved and taken care of, it's like he needs you to know that you can count on him whenever you need.

Changbin ‗ ❍

Changbin also grew up with a sister but I feel like he was the baby of the family so I think he'd try to replicate that more than anything. His s/o would be treated like royalty regardless, don't get me wrong, but during this time I feel like he'd feel bad for you and the fact that he can't really help, and would try to 'fix it' by indulging you a lot.

He probably wouln't keep track of the days/week, just in general. But, I think that he'd realize it quickly when you start acting a little off or being fatigued, and at that point he'd piece it together quickly and offer his help if he can. And if he can't, then he'll just settle with random gifts that could cheer you up. It could be something cute like a plushie, a treat like your favorite sweets, or something more unique like an expensive gift. You don't want him to spend such money on you, but you lowkey know that's his love language and appreciate it ten times more for it. He would also remind you of it "Shh, you know I love to spoil my princess", that would make you melt and he knows it well.

In a more severe case I think that he would make sure to not let you lift a finger. Dinner? Dishes? Medicines? Cuddles? Tissues for a particularly off moment? The remote being an inch too far? HE'S GOT IT. Changbin would also probably try to be there for you physically during this time and would get annoyed when he can't manage. At that point expect multiple calls and texts throught the day and maybe even a few cute selfies too that would never fail to make you smile and lift your mood.

If you happened to be crying, he would try to handle himself but just wouldn't be able to do it so you'd probably have a nice liberating ugly cry session together and then fall asleep hugged comfortably :(

He would also make sure that you're comfortable wherever you are, and that usually means completely laying on him, the best pillow in the house.

Hyunjin ‗ ❍

Hyunjin is shy and an empath, we know. I feel like at the beginning of your relationship he could be a little uncomfortable handling this situation, mainly because he'd like to help in some way but would be unsure of how to ask. You would also probably try to hide it or not mention it, you know like in early stages of any relationship, but out of shyness more than anything. You know he's a very sweet guy and he would probably feel bad that you feel bad. And he does.

One day during movie night you'd probably unintentionally flinch or hiss at the pain and then he'd decide that he had ENOUGH and would blurt out a "Can I do anything for you?". You'd be kind of taken aback but appreciate it a lot. You would give in "Yes actually" you wouldn't have to say it twice before he's back with what you asked for.

From that moment on I feel like it would be a process for him to learn how to know you and your needs and after a while he would just...do it. Which were your habits or comfort foods, your preferred type of sanitary products to use, what could make you uncomfortable and so on.

I feel like he wouldn't necessarily intentionally keep track of it but would randomly look at the date and go "Mhh, isn't this that time of the month?" and you'd probably show up with a belly ache and an extreme need of hugs so yeah he'd be like "I figured" and kind of laugh at you being cute.

You'd probably have something silly like a "Cursed week" playlist to cry to or a specific list of things to watch that would absolutely wreck you emotionally because why not. And you'd plan it together and go back to them like a routine. You probably have a very sad or angsty tv show/drama that you go back to once a month just to either cry your eyes out or comment together like two bitter old ladies. And you have a blast.

Hyunjin would try to be lowkey about it though. Once he learned how to properly take care of you he would just do things and not be obnoxious about it. Like he would be they type to leave a sticky note for you before leaving for work that said "Good morning my love. Remember to take it easy and take some medicine if you need, I love you <3"

In general I think that he would be the type to try and distract you as much as possible, wether it was with some nice cuddles to warm you up or even tease you to make you laugh. He could be out of pocket sometimes but that's exactly what makes it hilarious.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

This is it for the hyung line! Maknae line link. Hope you enjoyed my silly writing, feel free to leave feebacks if you feel like it :')

[absol-lutely]

As someone who’s resistant to poison and has healing moves and thus came out relatively unharmed when doing idiotic things, I present:

Astra’s pokemedicine guide!

Note that this guide is directed towards hybrids and other sentient nonhumans. Those who are -physically- human should avoid potions and revives like the plague, and should anticipate little effect from more natural solutions. Stick to ibuprofen.

Let’s start with the basic pokemart otc meds

Potions - do not drink them, spray them on your mon. Please. It is both very bad for you and also, I swear on the Wishmaker’s grace, it is the worst thing I have ever consumed in my life. Yes, I did try a potion once. In my defense, I was I think seven at the time and I thought it was grape soda. I learned immediately that it was not grape soda. All levels of potion apply to this one.

Revives - do not fucking bite them. Swallow them like a pill. It’s made for unconscious patients, there’s no reason you would be supposed to bite them. To be clear, you’ll be fine if you do, but if you’re anything like me then basically your entire mouth will go numb with all the medicines that you just released straight into it. Max revives are worse for this than normal ones, but both do this. Yes, I did this too, I was a challenging child.

Next, the less common products

Fresh water, etc. - do in fact drink this. Yes, it is spiked with meds, but not with anything that’ll hurt you, it’s mostly just painkillers. They’re more effective than straight potions purely because they don’t need to be absorbed through layers of skin/scales/feathers/fur and can make it to the bloodstream fairly quickly. Note: physically human readers won’t notice a difference between these and normal bottles of water. They won’t work on you, but they’re more expensive so you’re just wasting money if you drink these.

Bitter roots and related medicinal herbs - you will not like the bitter root. Your mon will not like the bitter root. You will not like wrestling your mon to make them swallow the bitter root. They suck. I personally make them into a horrific tea abomination because at least I can load it with sugar. Your preferred method may vary. Just make sure you ingest it in its entirety, basically anything else is fair game

Berry juice - while I’m wigged out by any straight from the shuckle, it really is just the fresh water category but fully natural. Nothing special here.

This is where I do not comment on what the ancient Hisuians did because while Snowpoint is full of old women who try to teach me, I do not have historical documentation to back up what were real medicines, what was folklore, and what is probably just dementia. As a general guide to what I’ve had stuffed in my mouth by assorted grannies: if you have Hisuian medicine, assume that it’ll taste somewhat like just eating slimy leaves but you’re definitely meant to eat it and it will do more than you think it will. If you have someone who tries to hype up their Hisuian medicine, though, that’s probably just random plants they’re trying to scam you with and it won’t do much.

Then, the berry guide

Obviously you will hate some berries. Natures do that.

Nothing’s going to hurt you, but if you use them wrong they might not do anything.

For the ones that lower the damage of attacks, I consistently see folks eat them after they get hit and they’re surprised when nothing happens. Eat them right beforehand. If you have a really bad type weakness (shoutout to Carbuncle who I had to mail far too many steel-reducing berries for his fairy/rock typing) then you can just kinda munch some throughout the day. To be clear, if you eat two, they’ll only lower the damage for any given attack as much as one berry would.

Healing berries do what they’re labeled as, no notes here

Tamato berries etc. are weird, I don’t understand effort values at all, but these won’t hurt you besides reducing those slightly

Anything that deals with stat boosts is way out of my realm of expertise, I run double team/protect/wish/flash and thus really really don’t deal with attack, defense, or speed for anything in particular.

Some berries only have documented effects on wild pokemon, how those would work with trainer mons is a question for your local professor (who probably also doesn’t know unless you live in certain versions of kanto specifically if reports are true)

Again, physically human readers will, upon eating a berry, experience the following effects: slight hunger decrease, slight vitamin increase, and tasting the flavor of the berry. Yes, those are just the effects of eating fruit in general. That’s because these don’t do anything special for those who are physically human.

(Physically human nonhumans, feel free to consume anything but the revives and potions as they’re processed so thoroughly you’d get yourself hurt. Anything else is fair game)

[inkblot22]

The Infection I Don't Want

I don't have any words. Don't look at me. In all seriousness, I definitely love the savior trope. I tried to give it a cute little twist. Idia feels funny in this one too. Also sorry if the formatting is weird. I write these in Docs and then I transfer them to tumblr and for some reason in this fic's document I used Amatic SC and I have bad vision to begin with. No clue why I love torturing myself. Dividers by @/cafekitsune. This fic gets a little heavy. If you start feeling unwell, stop reading. I won't take it personal, promise.

This fic is aimed towards afab readers, but uses they/them pronouns. Mentions of periods and wombs. I may have been a bit less impersonal with this one, but the reader doesn't go on my weird love rant that I have in my self-insert Idia fic so there is that.

This fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. TW for mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, DIY abortion which could also be read as miscarriage, I guess, abortion, Idia is incredibly mean in this and possibly OOC, Ortho being unintentionally creepy, parasites, sort of misogyny relating to periods, shock collars, electric shocks, captivity, implied forced marriage, implied forced medical procedures. PSA: don't try anything the reader does in this fic. It's an excellent way to get sepsis, and you don't want that, I promise.

Part 5 of the Pants on Fire series.

You don’t want to admit it, but a bit too much has changed about you. In the past few weeks, you’ve noticed plenty of things, but the largest and most blaring was that your period never came. Before when you would have it, Idia would sulk and pout, acting like you were bleeding on purpose, throwing a heating pad and a blanket and a pillow and the necessary products at you so you’d be comfortable in your distress. He kept talking about figuring out some technology to rid you of that pesky trait, and you really can’t think of anyone who likes having a period, so if he had, you wouldn’t have fought him on it, 

It’s too late for that now. For the last few days, you’ve been waking up early and vomiting. The smell of Idia’s favorite noodles makes it worse. Your poor tummy is constantly roiling, and you can hardly keep anything down. Ortho has been staring at you incessantly. You think he’s being annoying, really, and Idia’s been getting on your last nerves as well. 

Today, you woke up, vomited, and just sat in the bathroom for a moment, coming to terms with the fact that you could very well be pregnant. You feel conflicted. On one hand, you don’t want to talk or think about this. You’re stressed enough as it is. On the other hand, you absolutely don’t want this. You don’t want this creature in your stomach. You know it's there. You can’t feel it, but how often can you feel something before everything goes absolutely wrong? You can’t. 

But it’s unimportant. A knock comes at the door and you scramble to your feet, flushing the toilet and rinsing out your mouth before opening the door. It’s Idia. He gives you a look and starts stripping, turning on the shower and handing you a hair tie.

“You look sick.  What’s wrong with you?”

“O-oh, I… I don’t know. I feel fine.” You’re not sure how to tell him, so you lie. Maybe you won’t have to tell him. You pull his hair into a bun and he hops into the shower. 

You stand there for a moment and he peeks his head around the door at you, “What are you doing? You want to join me?”

“Huh? Oh, no. Just thinking.”

“Go see if Ortho can get you some aspirin or something so you can start acting normal again.” He mutters.

You leave. It’s fine. Idia’s dorm room is always cold. He keeps it like that on purpose. If you’re cold and he doesn’t provide much more than these stupid skimpy pajama sets that are cute but are also thin, so you’re more likely to cuddle up to him or wear his hoodies. At least he has good taste in that.

You don’t really feel like undertaking the task of looking through his closet, so you take a seat in Idia’s gaming chair, which is still warm from him sitting in it, and sigh, laying a hand over your belly. He said that Ortho was here, but he must be out getting breakfast, since you didn’t immediately hear his high voice  shrilling in your ears, “Good morning!”

You like Ortho just fine. He’s not your ally, but being around him is better than being around Idia. You wished he’d been gone for longer. You sigh and your head begins to hurt, “Hi, Ortho.”

He giggles a little and puts down the takeout bag, smiling as he turns back to face you. And then he just stares, chartruse eyes boring into you.

“Ortho, is there a problem?” You can’t hold your tongue about this any longer. You have a headache and honestly you just want to take a fat nap and let the world, small as it has become for you, deal with itself.

Before he can respond, Idia strolls out of the bathroom, lazily greeting Ortho, “Hey, Ortho.”

“Hello!” His voice is just so grating. You want to throw something.

“Mmm.” Idia glances at you, walking over and nudging your shoulder with the back of his hand, like he’s shooing an animal, “Go lay down.”

“I don’t-”

“Did you ask Ortho for-”

“Would you stop interrupting me?” You snarl, turning to look at him.

He stiffens ever so slightly, then hunches down and digs through the takeout bag Ortho brought in, “Are you acting like this because you’re on your period?”

“Did you really just ask me-”

This time, it’s Ortho, not Idia, who interrupts you, “Oh, they won’t be having a period for a while.”

Idia freezes. You freeze. Ortho goes back to what he was doing, humming as he makes the bed. Idia turns to narrow his eyes at you, his eyes sliding down to look at your midsection and feet, and his eyes roll back into his head and he’s hitting the ground. Maybe if you cared more about him, you’d check to make sure that he was fine, but as it is now, you don’t really have the energy or wherewithal to do so. You rush into the bathroom and cower near the toilet, like there’s a tornado or something outside. You’re distressed.

He doesn’t know it, but Ortho just vocalized the actualization of all your fears, the culmination of your meager existent, all rolled up into this… this parasite in your stomach. You swallow your incoming hysteria and make a decision. You’re going to get up. You’re going to get a change of clothes. You’re going to take a shower. And you’ll be fine. You’ll figure this out. You always have before. You’ll do it again.

When you exit the bathroom, Ortho is blowing air into Idia’s pallid face, and Idia is groaning. You ignore the pair and go to the closet. You grab a change of clothes, the rabbit-themed set of pajamas, you walk into the bathroom, you turn on the water. About as soon as the stream hits your back, you’re screaming. Sobs break from your chest like a hammer going into ice, smashing its way out despite every effort you make to keep it together. You’ve barely got the peace of mind to quickly wash yourself, and when you exit- the water is cold, too cold for comfort- you dry. You feel twitchy, after crying so hard. You tug on the spaghetti strap shirt, the bunny face stretching against your skin, and then you’re staring at the hanger.

You remember reading something, a long, long time ago. You were far too young to be reading this type of thing, the gorier parts of feminism and women’s rights, but… you remember a passage. The wire twists apart easily as you remember the story. A woman, desperate to be rid of the parasitic growth in her womb, just as desperate as you are now, used a wire coat hanger to remove it. It’s been so long that you can’t remember how it ended for her, but you remember the rest very clearly. The bent end, no longer crooked after you bent it, slips into your opening so easily. You can barely feel it. then the door opens, you freeze,  and you hear Ortho scream.

“Idia!” He yells, and there are footsteps and a moment of silence.

You look up at Idia’s honey-colored eyes that are glued to the wire hanger sticking out of your body, see the way both of the Shroud boys are looking at your current unfinished action, see the slow spread of crimson into Idia’s long hair, starting at the tips and spreading like, well, like fire, to the roots. There’s that familiar three-tap warning, and then you drop the hanger, clutching at the collar as the strongest shock you’ve ever felt hits you like a truck. It’s worse than the time you didn’t want to hang out with him, worse than the times you’d stray too close to the door. It forces you to your knees, sets your body into convulsions that shake the twisted hanger out of you, makes you foam at the mouth.

Somewhere under your anguish, you think you hear Ortho robotically say, “BPM reaching critical levels.”

The current stops and your body stops convulsing, relaxing so hard that your world, small as it has become, goes black. When you awake, you’re reliving a distant memory: you’re bound, hands and ankles, on the bed. You’re dressed again, one of Idia’s hoodies draped over you like a blanket, and Idia is just staring at you, holding your collar. He looks pissed, but his hair isn’t red, at least. He’s noticed you’re awake, but he’s not saying anything. He turns slightly in his gaming chair and throws the strap of leather on his desk, the wiring fried. There are holes burnt into the leather, and Idia stares at it blankly before he starts typing away on his tablet, his own voice coming through the device.

It sounds about as burnt out as the shock collar looks, “I bet you feel pretty bad, huh?”

You don’t dignify that with a response. It doesn’t matter to him, since his fingers fly as he keeps typing away.

“You’re a fucking moron. Only someone stupid would try to-” He doesn’t finish the sentence and hits the desk, standing up and pacing. You can’t see him, but you can hear him panting. 

You try to de-escalate, sort of. The shock collar isn’t around your neck anymore, but you really don’t need him to work himself up again, “The word is ‘desperate.’ I don’t want… I don’t want this. This thing growing inside of me, I don’t-”

“You’re not the only one with a parasite.” His voice is quiet but seething. It breathily cuts through the air like a knife, aiming for your soft parts, “You just have the privilege of being able to get rid of yours comfortably.”

“Really? So you putting this thing in me isn’t as bad as I think it is?”

He paces back into view and you notice something missing. Someone missing. You lift your head a bit to look around and Idia takes a heavy seat at his desk again. This state is rare. It takes him a while to relax when he gets like this, but you’ve only seen it aimed at others, like that time his account got temporarily banned because one of his party members was hacking. At least that had an easy solution for him- you’ve never seen him grin as much as when he had the poor guy swatted and watched through the CCTV cameras around the poor fool's house.

“We’re going home. I’ll fix your little problem twofold, since I’m the only competent one between the two of us.” He types out, his recorded voice not lagging once.

“What? And what do you mean you have a parasite?”

He doesn’t look at you, but you think you see him wipe his cheek with his sleeve, typing with only one hand, “Ortho is gonna come back with some burn cream. I lost my temper and you got hurt. Not that you didn’t deserve it.”

“I didn’t deserve any of this. I asked you if you had a condom.”

He doesn’t respond to that statement, instead typing, “I don’t love you. You know that, right? Love is for the idealistic masses, those who aren’t capable of keeping their feet on the ground. You’re just someone who has taken up a space in my mind. So the solution to yours won’t be permanent. Seven knows my parents will be getting on my case about providing them an heir eventually.”

“So I’m just here for eventual marriage security?”

Idia doesn’t respond. Ortho strolls in, placing a tube on Idia’s desk and goes out of your line of sight, seemingly to tidy or something. You don’t really care. He’s not your ally. He’s never been.

Idia sighs, then goes back to working on something on his desk. You don’t know how much time passes, but he loops it around your throat and unties you. It’s sitting a bit lower on your neck, just against your collarbones. There’s a three-tap warning, but no shock afterward. Just the flat look on Idia’s face.

“I should start calling you ‘baby’, kitten. It’d be so much easier for you to understand your position.”

“That’s not funny.” You say, “I never asked you to bring me here.”

Idia shrugs, “Well, I don’t think of you as a pet. With the way you act, you might as well be a pest.” He grins, sharp teeth on display, “Maybe I should put out some glue traps… or start dosing you with raw garlic and ivermectin.” 

He starts laughing, and you feel your eyes well with tears. You tell yourself it's the pregnancy hormones. Idia laughs harder at your expression.

“Aw, kitten, I’m just teasing. Come sit with me.”

“But I-” That three-tap warning from your new collar cuts you off. You stand up and start walking the two steps between the bed and Idia’s desk. When you reach your hands towards the collar, it zaps you. It’s quick and not too painful, but it gets you moving towards Idia. When you take a seat on his lap, he leans to bury his nose in your hair, a thrilled noise escaping him. He drops the burn cream in your lap.

He just watches you as you unscrew the lid and reach for your neck. There’s a three-tap warning again- bzz bzz bzz- but you ignore it. The second your fingers barely graze your throat with the cream, you get zapped, short and swift, but uncomfortable enough. You drop your hand and it goes away. When you look up at Idia, he takes the cream from your other hand and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, using his free hand to click into one of his many tabs for some anime streaming site.

“Good. It works.” Is all he says.

As he dabs the cream onto the electrical burns on your neck, you have to blink away the despair again. It’s settled over you like a blanket, eaten holey by moths and worms. Every move you make is accompanied by tentative fear, a worry that Idia will do something awful if you do certain things. You never once considered it would go this far, though. Ortho drops something onto Idia’s bed, a hefty-looking luggage set, and Idia pays him no mind as he tucks away some clothes. You don’t want to admit it, but you don’t want to be around any more people under Idia’s thumb, whether they know it or not.

[abeautifulblog]

Thoughts on the Radovid romance

A couple people have asked about the Radovid/Jaskier relationship, and I thought it was... fine? As fine as anything in this show gets?

I wasn't expecting it to dethrone Geralt/Jaskier, because 20+ years of Jaskier building his life and legacy around Geralt is a lot more compelling than Some Twink He Met Yesterday, but I did go into it with a genuinely open mind. Everyone on tumblr was gushing over their chemistry, and I was like, Yea I'd believe it, given that this is Joey Batey we're talking about. So I was expecting to enjoy it the way I'd enjoyed the Yennskier content in S2, the rare treat of two characters having a real emotional connection.

And then I watched it, and it wasn't bad, but the relationship was a lot more disjointed (and their "chemistry" a lot less compelling) than tumblr had led me to believe. (Lol, mea culpa, I should have known better than to take tumblr's word for it.) Also it’s unclear whether it’s supposed to be a cute romance, or whether it’s two people using each other for their own ends?

But it did brush up against some interesting thoughts I'd had before about Jaskier and his patrons, and got me to thinking about consent and power dynamics again, because I am THEE MOST predictable little beastie in fandom. 🤣

First off, I'm not sure what we're supposed to make of Radovid. Obviously he's ~hiding his true self~ in some way, but I can't tell if we're meant to take at face value the side of himself he shows Jaskier -- that he's more intelligent than he's been letting on, and is actually deeply lonely in the empty-headed partyboy role he's been playing, desperate for genuine connection and for someone to truly see him for who he is -- or whether that is yet more deception, and this is all part of some big ambitious scheme that he'll whip out in a mustache-twirling villain reveal. There are elements that make me think it's the latter, but Hugh Skinner's acting is also just weird (and why are his eyes so wet o_o), and I can't tell whether that's supposed to be deliberate foreshadowing, or if, once again, the people making the show are just clueless about how their creative choices are coming off.

(I assume this will get answered at some point, possibly already has in part 2, but I haven't watched that yet.)

Honestly, the part that caught my interest the most was when Jaskier showed up at Radovid's salon wanting to talk about new intel he had on Rience, and Radovid was blithely uninterested, just wanted Jaskier to sing for them -- and then proceeded to casually, completely disregard Jaskier's No.

gremble: Oho? 👀

That's a red flag! 😊 Jaskier tried to set a boundary, and Radovid brushed right past it. And in any competently-executed piece of media, I would expect that to be deliberately signaling something. It doesn't necessarily mean that Radovid is evil -- could just mean he's a crown prince who doesn't have much experience with people telling him No -- but seeing him blithely override Jaskier's wishes in a low-stakes situation sets a bad precedent, and foreshadows how he might behave later, when the stakes might well be higher.

...Except that this production team is so HILARIOUSLY bad at writing healthy relationships -- for three seasons they've been feeding us the most toxic slop imaginable and telling us that's what love looks like -- that I have no idea whether that was on purpose or not. 😂😂😂

--

The Radovid storyline does touch on some concepts that I've long found fascinating, about Jaskier's system of patronage and how he trades on his sexuality. How his work is canonically sex work, or at least sex-work adjacent (that's made explicit when he talks about the Countess de Stael, that they were involved sexually while she was supporting him financially), and the balancing act of keeping his patrons happy when they are always, always going to be second in his affections to Geralt -- and how they probably wouldn't be too happy to learn that.

Because for all that S3 tells us Jaskier is developing a crush on Radovid, Joey Batey's acting says something very different. He did not come off as a man in love, to me -- he came off as someone who's acutely aware that when the crown prince of Redania rolls up and tells you he's your biggest fan, you fucking smile for him.

(Why yes, Moulin Rouge is my all-time favorite movie, why do you ask? 🤣)

Jaskier's interactions with Radovid feel very... 'calculated' isn't quite the word for it, but Jaskier is conscious of the power differentials there, and always carefully choosing what he does and says in light of what he knows Radovid wants from him. He's conscious of having to keep Radovid happy, yes but he's also conscious of what he stands to gain from having a crown prince clamoring to win his affections, and what he could leverage out of that. (Like, say, having the entire Redanian army to protect his little found family.)

And the power imbalance isn't entirely one-directional either. Radovid wants Jaskier's affections, something that can't be bought or coerced, and wants his specifically, which means Jaskier has all the power to give or withhold it... while also being aware that toying with a prince's affections is a dangerous game.

........Or maybe I entirely misread that, and Jaskier's feelings for Radovid are meant to be genuine, and the whole thing was supposed to be a cute little romance. The way that Joey & the production team have talked about that relationship makes it sound like that's what they were going for, but what's onscreen is very ambiguous.

It will surprise no one to learn that I think the more interesting option would be the one that complicates Jaskier’s motives. That even if he likes Radovid well enough, he's still deliberately leveraging Radovid's crush on him to get help for Geralt -- and that if he oversteps, he's risking the wrath of a very powerful man. (And that as the perceived rival, Geralt could wind up as the target of Radovid’s retribution.)

Anyway, it's a fascinating situation, and almost identical to a fic premise I've been tossing around for years. It's never quite coalesced enough to get written, but it does compel me.

(Alternately, if you wanted Radovid to be noble and tragic, @coffee-mage-sans-caffeine suggested a situation in which Radovid and Geralt are in peril together, one of them is not going to make it out of this, and Radovid sacrifices himself so Geralt lives -- because he knows which of them Jaskier loves more.)

[tracingpatternswrites]

Married at First Sight - The Honeymoon

(Start from the beginning)

Welcome back to the second week of this season’s Married at First Sight. In this episode, our newlyweds jet off on their honeymoon and some of them are off to a bit of a rocky start. Will they manage to overcome their first hurdle as a married couple or is the ship already sinking?

Read on AO3.

Snippet below:

Remus closed the door and sat down on the bed, turning the handheld camera that they had been given from the production team over in his hands. He took a deep breath as he settled against the headboard, staring blankly straight ahead for a moment as he tried to get his thoughts in order.

They were three days into their honeymoon and Remus had no idea what to make of any of it. At first he had felt as if it was all a dream, living in this glorious villa on the outskirts of Otranto in southern Italy with the sea stretching out in front of them, the clear blue skies, the swimming pool and the sun.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Things between himself and Sirius were… fine, but not much more than that and he couldn’t put his finger on why. Nothing was bad , per se, but they hadn’t really moved forward either, at least not in the way that Remus had hoped.

Sirius was nice, kind, but he still felt a little distant. They were sleeping in the same bed, but nothing had happened between them. They hadn’t even kissed since the wedding, and it wasn’t for Remus’ lack of want. He had found himself staring at Sirius on more than one occasion over the past couple of days, when he was sprawling in a sun lounger or doing strokes in the pool, unable to get his head around the fact that it was his husband he was looking at.

Remus was ridiculously attracted to him, and just this morning he had woken up with a lingering dream and a raging hard-on. He had sneaked into the bathroom, running the shower so that he could jerk himself off without being overheard. He knew that Mary’s quip about him being unable to go a full week without dick had been a joke, but now he was starting to believe she had a point. He didn’t usually struggle like this, but then he had never been married to someone like Sirius Black before either.

Remus was used to physical affection, to touches, and he felt secure enough in his sexuality. Even though it wasn’t the be-all and end-all in a relationship, there was no denying that it was an important part for him and the fact that Sirius didn’t seem to think so bothered him. He also had no idea how to bring it up.

Before the wedding, the experts had pointed out to them that communication was crucial for this to work out, but Remus was at a loss as to where to start. His old insecurities, that he wasn’t good enough or not attractive enough, were already growing in the back of his mind and the longer he waited, the louder the doubts became.

He took a deep breath as he held the camera up in front of himself, pressing rec.

“So, this feels weird,” he mumbled, adjusting the little display so that he could see himself in it and he exhaled a sigh. “Sirius has gone out for a bit so I figured… might as well take some time to do this.”

He fell silent again, pondering how to continue.

“This is our second full day here in Otranto and it’s… beautiful. The place, I mean; the house and the surroundings, the views. We’re right by the sea and it’s… perfect, really. Everything’s perfect, except for… well, I don’t know. I don’t know what I WAS expecting, really, marrying a total stranger, but I guess it’s just sort of landed with me now. That we don’t… know each other, I mean.

“I feel like I can’t read him. There’s nothing… he’s not rude or anything, but I feel like I can’t really get through to him. He deflects my questions, tosses them back to me and before I know it we’re back to talking about me again.” He stops, unable to stop the corner of his mouth from tugging upwards slightly. “He’s good at that, he must’ve had a lot of practice.”

Remus heaved a sigh, dropping his head back against the wall behind him and staring up at the ceiling as he continued to talk.

“He’s… really nice, sweet, polite. And so fucking hot, I mean… fucking hell. Those arms? His thighs? He’s fucking gorgeous and he’s a… gentleman. He opens doors and pulls my chair out and compliments my clothes even though they’re nothing special. He’s so bloody nice and– is it wrong that the only thing I want him to do is to push me onto the bed, or against the wall I’m not fussy, and just fucking ra–“ he stopped himself abruptly, throwing an embarrassed look at the display as he groaned at himself. “I cannot believe I just… cut that out, please, that was… fuck’s sake, Lupin.”

He shook himself slightly, huffing out a low breath as he collected himself again, trying not to think too much about how great Sirius had looked earlier that day, lazing around by the pool. Right. Focus. He cleared his throat.

“This is all about communication, eh? It’s what the experts kept saying before everything. So, I guess we should… communicate. I just wish– just wish he’d show me something real . He’s very polite, well-behaved, so… nice and still I spend all the fucking time wondering if he really likes me or if he’s just pretending to.”

Remus paused, his brows pulling together as he considered what he’d just said.

“And I realised… I don’t know if I like him either. How can I know, when I don’t know him? He’s fit, he’s nice, but I still have absolutely no idea who he is . I suppose that’s what I need to figure out.” He stopped again, looking at himself in the display, and he gave a firm nod. “No time like the present, eh? I’ll start tonight.”

He turned the camera off, and barely a moment later he heard the sound of the front door. Just in time, then. He half-expected Sirius to call out for him, to wonder where he was, but there was nothing but the sound of someone rummaging around downstairs. Remus heaved a sigh as he put the camera away.

He went for a slosh, looking at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands afterwards. He tanned easily, and the time he’d spent in the sun had been good for him. He felt good, the warm weather always helped with that. His Ma had always said he was made for warmer weather than the damp north of England and she seemed to be right. 

He took a deep breath; he needed to be brave and just push through, not let Sirius change the topic on him.

He could do this.

Continue on AO3.

[dimdiamond]

You know I was just reading the tintin books originally from the first one and I can tell I didn't like the way herge handled the drinking situations with haddock,like in most of the stories he didn't really give a damn about anything but his whisky lol,nowdays the regular fans or people only talk or joke about his attachment to drinking I feel like he could be much more than that,in some stories he was even literally annoying like in that whole moon business or in calculus affair the guys were talking about calculus's safety and here he was only asking or thinking for a drink lol💀I know it was all for jokes or to make people laugh but I didn't like that haddock was all about drinking,the only time he took anything seriously for a bit rather than drinking was in the red sea sharks lmao I feel like he just had more potential than to just act as a drunken man,what do you think of it?

OMG MY FAVOURITE TOPIC, CAPTAIN HADDOCK!

Ok but I totally agree with you, especially in the early works the way the drinking problem is handled is just so off puting, so weird. It's always used for jokes and I confess that I have laughed with many of them but that doesn't mean I'm totally fine with them.

On one side I understand that these jokes are also a product of Herge's time and in general the conversation about alcoholism and other addictions wasn't as excessive and as developed as now (not that we treat them any better but at least there is now the aknowledgement of the problem and real efforts to be taken seriously). However we can't ignore that these jokes have aged poorly.

Besides the nature of the jokes themselves, I think the amount of them have done bag things to the character's reputation. Herge wanted to repeat the familiar jokes but he put them so many times that now most people remember Haddock for his alcoholism than all the other virtues he has shown.

[Surprisingly and maybe unpopular opinion but I did like how this was handled in the Spielberg movie. Yes it was used as a joke all the time but Tintin never encouraged Haddock drinking and he even got mad when he thought that Haddock drank (I still cry with this scene). Haddock tries to stop himself from drinking and he manages that two times, with the last one being such a great moment. He is also shown to realize his problem and not being proud of himself and he still tries to do better, to be better. And that's the core of Haddock's character. He is a man that reached the bottom and stood up again, he just needed the right push.]

In the later comics the drinking jokes are still there but I notice they're more about in how many ways we can prevent Haddock from drinking, reaching the Picaros where he can't even drink anymore. I think this is an improvement of the joke compared to before.

I want to stay on the example you mentioned with the moon case. Haddock's drinking and eventually endangering everyone because of it is never dealt lightheartedly. It's the first time we see Tintin losing his composure and yelling. Tintin, who until now never yelled at Haddock no matter what he did, is so angry and so disappointed that he yells. After that Haddock is immediately shown to be truly guilty and asking for forgiveness and of course Tintin forgives him. They don't mention it again and Haddock doesn't drink again.

Let's count how many times Haddock was completely drunk to the point of being dangerous for himself and others. Two. The first in his first appearance, in The Crab With The Golden Claws, and the second in the Explorers On The Moon. The two cases seem not similar but they do have one thing in common. Both times Haddock felt trapped and having no control over his own life and the only thing that felt in his control was alcohol. In Karaboudjan he felt trapped and Allan and the rest taking his freedom. In the rocket he felt trapped and before going he had tried so many times to get away from it and told so many times that he didn't want to participate but no one listened. We can't ignore the pattern here, alcohol for Haddock is his mean to regain control of himself and get courage. He needed a lot of time to take this matter in his hands and I don't think it's a coincidence we don't see him that drunk after the moon. In that case, he seemed to realize that he is not alone, his freedom isn't stolen but shared with his friends and freedom comes with responsibility and consequences. In both times Tintin is endangered and yet he doesn't abandon Haddock and saves him. In the first time, Tintin gave Haddock, a stranger, the comfort and courage to stand up and believe in himself again. In the second time, Tintin gave Haddock, his closest friend, a good shaking and scolding to stop being selfish and realize he's not alone anymore.

It's easy to diminish Haddock's character to his drinking. It's not fair though. Haddock has shown many MANY great virtues, since his first appearance even! In The Crab With The Golden Claws he didn't give Tintin although he was literally whipped and tortured to talk. In the Seven Crystal Balls he did everything to find Calculus. In the Red Sea Shark he literally shines. In Tibet he follows Tintin even though he thinks it's nonsense and he was ready to sacrifice himself for him. He has shown with words and actions that he's a philanthropist and strongly against racism and slavery and war. He is kindhearted, loyal and honest. He is a great friend and for all these Tintin and the rest characters chose him to be their friend and never gave up on him.

I simply wish fans could see all these stuff that Haddock is without drinking and not limit their perception and opinion on him from just drinking jokes.

Idea: let's stop making alcohol jokes and start the jokes about mineral water!

[parasolids]

OKAY im turning into a gloomy pessimist nightmare again so list of times i felt good in the past week

-during my 1:1 with my boss we had some chill silly conversation it was nice

-texting my homie from texas about pokemon and talking poke sonas and having that to chew on

-got a good mac n cheese from a cafe i rarely visit (weird hours)

-got to see a band whose concerts i really like. show was good! i liked the opener a lot too. wrecked myself bad moshing, was sore all over for days and took a fall. was pretty scared bc im learning guitar from the guitarist of that band and was like what if its weird that i show up (having seen them 2x before) but it was fine we had a normal conversation i think. also the merch girl followed me back on twitter which was cool

-had some very intense nightmares but at least they were interesting ones

-laughing in fear on the craziest rides at the amusement park

-got chased by a scare actor in a haunted house. i knew he wouldnt touch me so i let him get as close as he could and he faked out hitting me with his studded bat

-i thought my work friend maybe hated me but we hung out in her office i think we're ok?

-got some cool new washi tapes that id been waiting for like a month to arrive

-tried to donate blood to get past my needle phobia. got deferred again (5th or 6th time - this time it was bc i had low blood pressure) but at least i got free oreos and a funny story

-boss asked me to test a couple cars to get data which ended up being chill since i had to idle them for half an hour each. ran into one of the other product development engrs out there whos about my age and we had some fun being silly together

[pbandjesse]

I am struggling to keep my eyes open. I am ridiculously tired. I did not get much sleep last night and was just a little tired all day. It was not a bad day though and was a good way to end the week.

When I woke up this morning after only sleeping 4 hours I didn't feel to horrible. At least when it came to being tired, actually feeling I was so wildly hot. 105 feels like heat. And I'm lucky to mostly be in the shade but it was so so stupidly hot.

Before it got to hot I would spend a half hour collecting berries to fill a jar. It was fun. I tried to remember the rule for foragers about leaving some for other. I also went for manly ones that I didn't think the campers would access. More off the beaten path ones. And they are always the most beautiful color.

I would hang in my hammock while I waited for my first group. It was a little damp from the rain and smelled a little musty but it was fine. I just wanted to cool down.

At 920 I went to sit inside to wait for my group. But they never came. I felt really annoyed after waiting 25 minutes I called their villager director and they gave me a weird attitude about checking.

Tony would come up at 1005 and let me know that the group was still coming and I laughed out loud. I would barely get through the instruction in that time! He agreed with me after seeing what the project was. And would tell the girls to not bother coming to arts and crafts. I felt bad but there was just no way I could make it work.

So I wouldn't have a group until 1030. And that group was great. Girls. Made the lizards. We're sweet. And I was just happy they were having fun.

Lunch was stressful. The SSCs were tubing so they weren't there to serve the meal. The ropes staff would jump right in. I would get permission to get mayo and would make an egg salad and potato chip sandwich. I ate out side and felt a little embarrassed when Aaron called me over and I was a little snippy (because I was so hot) but he was offering me some birthday cake. Which was really nice. I would have loved cake but my teeth were bring a little bit mainly I was worried it wouldn't make me feel nice. Though I would have loved the cake but I still said no.

Because I was on a mission. I had heard a rumor that came had gotten us swag. Specifically a fake Stanley style cup. There were multiple colors and I needed the light blue/purple one so bad.

So I got right to the office. Got a big hug from Heather. Who asked if I still work there after barely seeing me all week but I counted that every time I came by she was busy!!

Soon though Alexi would direct me to the gator next time the office or get my swag. A new fanny pack (that I'm giving to Jess), a fan, a note book, a flash light, and the cup! I got one of the last of the light blue/purple. I was so happy.

Ray, who was handing out the swag, had me sign off that I picked up my stuff. And then it was back to art to chill.

I had three more groups. Two day camp and the tipis kids. And it was fun. The day camp were very sweet and tired very hard. The one group was day camp two and I wasnt originally going to have them do bead lizards and was a little caught off guard when they wanted to do them.

And so with the help of the counselor we would get every little baby a bead lizard to take home. Apparently there has been some coveting over the project because of different patterns and colors. Pretty cool that they liked this product so much.

Finally it was tipis. They would be all over the place, in a good way. I had been finishing with day camp 2 when they got in and because tipis is great they just waiting inside and started working on stuff without me.

But I would get the little kids finished and sent off. And jumped into showing the ones who wanted to know how to make bead lizards and having cats with others. I had two girls learning how to make a lanyard out of gimp string. I set them up to watch a video and then would figure it would pretty quickly. I was very proud.

I would eat them go through my get rid of pile clothes. And they all helped clean up and pack up the materials. I was very happy.

I would spend the next half hour or so, after saying goodbye to the group, prepping for next week's project. Print making on 3 ways. I have high hopes because it's been so good in the past but you never know.

It was a really easy drive home after that. I would pack some snacks for the market tomorrow and my two bags. And would be home by 430.

I was already struggling to keep my eyes open on the road but I did it. And got home before I killed myself. I would check on all the animals. Cleaned some snails out of the frog tank. The two remaining frogs after the loss of one of the toast brothers.

After finishing some chores and taking showers, me and James would go for a walk when they got home. Over to CVS to see if they had a better wrist brace for me because I need something more specific. And then we went to the pizza place. Where I ordered manicotti and fries and James got a burger.

Walking home was though felt like death. It was so impossibly hot in the sun. The barely 10 walk was going to kill me.

When we got home I went to lay in our room. And James would bring food and it was good. But tasted almost like curry?? Confusing but not bad. The garlic bread tastes really good but a different texture then expected. The fries were excellent. And I got a strawberry Dr pepper that was ice cold and it was great.

I've spent the rest of this evening lounging and eating to many snacks and trying to fight your eyes to stay open .

But I think I will let myself sleep now. I have a big market tomorrow and I'm really excited but also really nervous. So wish me luck. I love you all. Goodnight!!

[theafrochick]

my red flag is I'll wake up and be hurtled into a silly goofy mood so i write shit like this to cope. I like the idea of putting this in the long fic im deluding myself into thinking I'm going to write but for now have a snippet i guess since it'd feel weird posting this on ao3? idk.

we love stolas having a mental breakdown. and we also love asmodeus being along for the ride cus Asmodeus playing bob the builder with Stolas would fulfill all my needs in life actually.

something something projection and copium

Anyway

Pairing is: stolas & asmodeus. hurt/comfort

Word count: 2,741

I got sick of writing this lmao ignore the ending.

“What else is this supposed to be about then? I don’t know why we keep doing this when you found somebody else’s dick to hop on.”

“W-what on earth are you talking about?” Anxiety stabbed into you as you hug your grimoire to your chest. This was supposed to be a conversation. This was supposed to fix everything and instead if was devolving faster than you could have dreamed.

“Don’t play dumb Stolas, you and Asmodeus are plastered across every tabloid this side of hell. At least have the balls to admit that you’re just keeping me around as a side piece.”

“No, no, Blitzy it’s not like that. We’re friends! I’m doing him a favor, I would never do something like that. What do you take me for?” Blitz takes a step back when you try to approach him, an unfamiliar look of disdain crossing his features. A knot settles in your chest as you felt yourself shrink before him.

You knew you were a hypocrite for wanting him to believe that you wouldn’t cheat considering your relationship was a product of an affair, but you assumed his jealousy would be resolved when he realized Asmodeus was in a very committed relationship of his own. Clearly that wasn’t enough but you weren’t sure what else you could do for him. It felt like it didn’t matter at the end of the day. You had done for this him but he would never believe you if you actually said that. Or it’d somehow add more fuel to this never ending fire.

“I don’t see what kind of favor you needed him that involves you needing to hang all over him. If its about that stupid necklace you gave me so you wouldn’t have to see me anymore then consider the hint taken. You didn’t have to whore yourself out to get away from me.”

“I didn’t- I’m not- Please just listen to me, I only gave you that because-” You try to approach again. Blitz takes several steps back, folding his arms over his chest. Whatever faint connection you had to him snapped in that moment. The fact that there wasn’t anything to try and fix hit you like a truck and you the desire to cling to the vast nothing you had been given evaporated. You didn’t want to fight anymore. You were so tired of it. You suck in a breath, forcing yourself to straighten. Forcing yourself to not reach for him again even though a small part of you still wanted to. “Fine. If that’s how you feel then we can consider this the conclusion of any business we might have with one another. This 14th or any other are yours for the taking.”

You suck in another breath, then turn and take the stairs back into your house at a measured pace. In the resulting silence, filled by the bubbling of the fountain in the courtyard, you hoped that he wouldn’t actually let you walk away. But then the van door opened and closed. You opened the door to the foyer. The engine starts and fades just as quickly. You close the door, the click of the latch echoing through your head.

You’re fine. It’s okay. This is okay.

You feebly tried to placate yourself as you made your way through the house to put your grimoire away. If you didn’t it’d leave room for everything else to take root and even if you were pathetic, you refused to cry yourself to sleep on the entryway floor. This wasn’t the first time you just had to keep it together for a little while. What a handful of minutes compared to the other countless hours you had spent hiding from yourself.

But the grimoire never made it back to its place, because you were used to not having it. Because you had put a new book in its place. Because that book didn’t even fit well in your organization scheme but the blank space hurt to look at when you missed Blitz. Because you could handle the slight annoyance that it was in the wrong spot than look at that hole. Because if you moved that book to put your grimoire away then you’d have to find a new place for the wrong book. Because you didn’t have a place for it in the first place. Because then you’d end up reorganizing the mountain of books you had. Because after all that nothing would be the same. Because then you’d have to change. Because then you’d have to clean yourself. Because then you’d probably have to eat something. Because then you’d have to go to bed. Because then you’d have to wake up and grapple with the fact that you were as alone as you had felt your whole life.

Your knees give out and you curl into yourself. Between the sobs racking your body and the waves of anxiety that kept crashing over you you could barely breathe. Why is it always my fault?

How much more were you expected to give? You buried everything you wanted to the sake of others. You worried yourself sick. You overthought everything. You tarnished your birthright. You threw away whatever reputation you had t hat wasn’t trampled on by Stella. You couldn’t dig any deeper. There wasn’t any place you could hide from yourself anymore. You had nothing left and nothing to show for it. How was it still your fault that things ended up this way?

The vague burning sensation in your skin left behind from the feathers you hadn’t meant to rip out wasn’t enough to keep you grounded. And then more intentionally thinking that might leave you with something to grab onto as your magic misfired and bled into the room. Ichor seeped out of walls and pooled on the floor around you. The sound of cracking stone could scare be heard about the sound of your heart pounding in your aching chest. You’re making a mess, pull yourself together. This is unbecoming.

Normally a few sobering thoughts were enough for you to reign it in. To get some semblance of a grip on yourself and put yourself back together.

Not now. What was the point? You could stay there for as long as you wanted because nobody would care enough to come check on you. You could destroy the whole mansion and the only person who’d have to deal with it was you. This could just be another thing to add to the long list of things you couldn’t do right. Can’t be a prince. Can’t be a husband. Can’t be a father. Can’t be a boyfriend. Can’t be a boyfriend. Can’t take care of yourself. Can’t be left alone.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your nails graze your skin before everything went silent.

“What the fuck...?”

You blink back into consciousness, cold from the ichor that had soaked into your clothes. Your head hurt, and your vision blurred. The tightness in your chest had subsided enough that you could at least breathe again. Maybe. Fresh anxiety wormed it’s way into you as Asmodeus cautiously pads over to you.

“Stolas, are you alright? What happened?”

You shove yourself into a sitting position, black spots dancing in your vision. A nervous laugh escapes you as you clap your hands together. “Oh, I was just...working on a spell.” Another nervous laugh. You set your soaked grimoire on the window seat, praying it was still legible. You could barely convince yourself that was an excuse let alone Asmodeus. Not when he was privy to everything that was going on and didn’t know how to let anything go. Not when you had unintentionally placed him in the middle of all of this.

“Wanna run that one by me again?” Asmodeus crouches in front of you, his head cocked earnestly to the side as he studies you.

“Just practicing…” You couldn’t bear to look at him as you forced the words out. Your stomach churned and your throat clenched. You weren’t sure if you were going to throw up or start crying again. Or both. “I’m fine, really. Do tell why you’re here.”

Asmodeus exhales sharply, resting his hand on the side of your face. He works his fingertips through your feathers to graze his claws against your skin. A tremor runs through you as the heat from his palm seeps into you. He always did run hot.

You fought the urge to sink into him, tension settling in your back as you sat a little straighter. “Really, I’ve just been out of practice so I thought it’d be good to reacquaint myself with some of the spells in the back of the book only I got distracted and it backfired a little. Nothing I can’t handle, I’m sure I did worse when I was younger. Haven’t we all?”

You weren’t sure what you were going on about as the room groaned and shifted around you. But saying nothing of any real substance was easier than sitting there in silence, trying not to look at him. This display was shameful, even if it was supposed to be private. Nothing was ever private. One way or another others always managed to wiggle their way in. If you said you fine eventually you’d mean it again and then things could go back to normal.

The chandelier gives from the added weight of the petrification and rips itself free of the ceiling. Asmodeus starts, whipping his head around to look at the pile of stone and plaster sitting on the floor. “Stolas…” He edges closer to you, cupping your face with his hands. “Don’t lie to me. It’s one thing if you want to be alone to work through whatever the fuck this is, but nobody who knows you and has half a brain would believe you’re fine right now.” He chose his words carefully, his drawl being the only thing that stopped an actual pause from forming.

You wring your hands together in your lap. For a moment you were a child being scolded for getting upset and all you could do was bear it. What good would admitting to anything do? If you did then it’d make this more real than it already was. So this was just another thing you could do. Pretend. Not anymore. You had felt the mask slipping for some time now but you never thought the day would come where you actually couldn’t put it back on. “It’d be a waste for you to worry about me when this whole thing is my fault.”

“I have a very hard time believing that.”

You shrug helplessly, pulling your face from his hands. “It always is… Things never should have gotten this far. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t that’s the problem. I never think. None of this ever would have happened if I just did what I was supposed to, but I never do. I can’t do anything right.” You suck in a breath, batting his hands away when he reaches for you. “Sorry, that was rather uncalled for. You should just go.”

“Do you mean that?”

Of course not.

You wipe your face on your sleeve, undoubtedly smearing black on the side of your face. “It’s for the best.”

You tense when Asmodeus pulls you into his lap. You couldn’t manage to protest as he wraps himself around you. “It’ll be okay, Stolas, you’ll make it through this.”

For a moment you could breathe. Your mind goes blank for an instant before everything comes rushing back to the surface again. It hurt, and you were certain that you wouldn’t be okay. You had never been okay. How were you supposed to start now?

“There, there, let it all out.”

You whimper softly, burying your face in Asmodeus neck while he gently rocks you. You always liked how unnaturally warm he was. When given the chance it was hard not to drift to his side whether it was warranted or not. The sickly sweet smell that clung to him usually assaulted your senses and relaxed you but now it just mingled with your shame and made you too acutely aware of the situation you were presently in.

Getting a handle on yourself felt more a priority than working through whatever this was supposed to be. You needed out of this. You needed Asmodeus to feel like he had gotten what he wanted so he could continue on. You couldn’t get used to this. You couldn’t start to depend on him. He wasn’t yours to need. Nobody was. You were too old to be throwing a tantrum because you couldn’t get what you wanted. That’s what this boiled down to wasn’t it? Once again you expected too much. It was your own fault for getting your hopes up. How could you end up surprised you were here? This had been coming for months and you should have accepted this then. You should have taken the inevitable with grace. Especially when you left him with everything he wanted. He’d never think about you again while you stupidly clung to things that only ever mattered to you.

Was that it? Was everyone always placating you because it was easier than dealing with this? Maybe you were unreasonable. Asmodeus was only here because you hadn’t said the right things. If you were a little stronger you’d be cleaning. And you’d move that stupid book someplace else. Or throw it away because you didn’t even need it, it was just the first one you saw. What was it even called? To think you fell apart over something that normally didn’t occupy an ounce of head space. I’m hopeless.

You blink a few times, abruptly all too aware of your body pressed against Asmodeus’. Of his steady breathing. Of his heart thudding in his chest. You had enough sense to be embarrassed without a twinge of anxiety so you had to confront the fact that you had to actually start picking up the pieces of whatever Blitz had broken inside of you countless times. There probably wasn’t even anything left at this point, but trying was really your only option when Asmodeus certainly wasn’t going to let you go back to tearing yourself and your house apart.

For now, you were mostly tired, and if you stayed like this any longer the idea of sleeping on his chest would have been tempting. Though this raised the question of you needing to get out of this and you were no closer to a solution than when the question was first posed. “Uhm...Asmodeus?”

“Yes, Stolas?” Asmodeus shifts you a little higher, nuzzling your neck.

“You may put me down, if you want.”

Asmodeus studies you for a moment. While the scrutiny still made you uncomfortable, it wasn’t nearly as unbearable as before. He seemed satisfied that you weren’t still spiraling out of control and eased you back onto the floor. You brace yourself on his shoulder and stand, a headache forming at your temples. “Why don’t you come stay with me tonight?”

“No, no I couldn’t possibly do that. It’s alright. This is a big place. There are other beds.”

Asmodeus hauls himself off the floor, momentarily distracted by the puddle off ooze he had put his hand in. “I also have other beds. Ones that aren’t covered in freaky black jizz. Besides, you need a bath and I know you aren’t going to take one. You’re probably not even going to change either and that look on your face says it all.” Asmodeus cuts you off, “girl you need to get a grip. I’m all for spending all day in bed, but at least do it in a clean one.”

You sigh, not really having the energy to argue with him. “I really wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“I have servants for a reason, only people you’re putting out are on payroll. Though word of advice,” he snaps his fingers, opening a portal into a very pink bathroom, “don’t let Froggy make your breakfast. He’ll do it because he knows you’re too nice to say no, and I think you’ve suffered enough for one week.”

“I’m not-” The protest died on your lips as you stepped into the bright light. You were already missing your room before the portal had closed. “Fizzarolli thinks I’m nice?”

“How could anybody think otherwise?”

[purplesong1028]

The Perfect Storm

Chapter 4: A Gentle Reminder

Miguel tries to forget that night ever happened. It was just a mistake, a terrible lapse of judgment. Or was it?

Rating: General Audience

Paring: Pacho/Miguel

Words: 2,816

A week after the storm, everything resumes to normal. After all, it was just a tropical storm, not a hurricane. It’s nothing new, not even something worth mentioning in small talks, and Miguel fully intends to keep it that way. A few more days later, Amado brings him a silver briefcase after coming back from the airport.

“It came from Cali. They said it was for you.”

“Did they say what it’s about?” Miguel feels the weight in his arms. It’s quite heavy for its size, so probably not documents. What could it be? A full bag of new product samples?

“No, but I gave it to your security first and they vetted it. It’s safe.”

“Ok, I’ll see what they want later.” He sets it aside. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll leave you to it.”

As soon as Amado walks out and closes the door again, he immediately brings the briefcase up to the desk, and unlocks it.

It’s a full bag of neatly stacked cash. What? Why would Cali…Oh.

It was less than two weeks ago, but he honestly already forgot about the poker game, and the fact that Pacho owed him a million dollars. He rarely ever forgets about the money he’s owed, but frankly, it’s understandable this time. A million dollars really became utterly insignificant after some other stuff happened after the bet.

He forces that piece of memory out of his mind, and picks up a stack of cash. He’s not trying to count, but just wants to feel it against his fingertips. Many years ago, shortly after he got into the weed business and had the first stack of cash in his hand, he did this exact same thing. The bills were dirty and wrinkled, but they felt so nice, even smelt nice. That pure bliss of having cash in his hands, having any money, he still remembers it until this day.

But that’s not what he’s feeling now. Cash doesn’t faze him anymore, at least not with this amount, but victory does, and money is just one representation of winning.

Miguel puts the cash back, aligning the edges to make sure everything is perfectly stacked. Sometimes he still handles the bribes himself, when the amount is especially large or when the recipients are important. In those circumstances, presentation truly matters a lot, so it has become a habit for him at this point.

Something hard and cold touches his fingers. That’s strange. That’s definitely not the bottom of the briefcase, so there’s something else in there. Of course there’s something else in there! He grabs the stacks of cash around it, throwing them out, revealing the hidden object: it’s a pink candle.

A fucking pink candle.

The weird sicario, the darkness, Pacho’s face under candlelight, his body, their bodies…

All memories rush back into his brain, regardless of his best efforts to suppress and erase them. It’s humiliating, debilitating, like an addict having a relapse after swearing to get clean.

He hurls it across the room under blind rage. It crashes into a wall and shatters, glass pieces falling soundless on the carpet.

“Señor? Are you alright?” His security knocks.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Miguel grabs the glass of whisky and drinks a large gulp, trying to calm his nerves. No, he can’t lose control. This is exactly what the fucking Colombian wants to see. He’s not falling into the trap, not again.

But why even bother sending the cash, if that candle is the real “gift”? Why not just add a million to their usual payment, and just send the candle on its own? Wouldn’t that be more blaring? Get the point across easier?

Wait…wait.

Miguel rushes back to the briefcase and pours all the cash out. He swears, if there’s one cent more than a million in there, he’s going to kill that asshole. He will. The stacks are scattered everywhere: on the table, the couch, the floor, and he picks them up one by one, frantically counting, one, two, three… The paranoid part of him really wants to take each one apart, just to make sure there are 100 one hundred dollar bills in each stack, and not one more. But he stops himself. This whole time, he’s been preventing himself from going crazy, and hand counting every single bill to a million dollars sounds exactly like what an insane person would do.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take that long to pick up a hundred stacks of cash, but by the time he has piled them back together, he’s covered in a layer of thin sweat. It is exactly a million. Nothing less, nothing more, but it doesn’t bring him the slightest comfort.

How did he let a simple bag of cash that he’s rightfully owed and a stupid candle trigger him into full blown rage? This isn’t like him. He hasn’t been like himself since the day he returned from Panama.

Most nights have been sleepless, which is nothing new, but his mind is occupied by a different kind of thoughts: exciting, erotic, beautiful even, if he’s completely honest with himself. Yet it keeps him on his toes, keeps his mind and body awake while his pretty young wife lies right besides him. Sometimes he would wait for her to wake up and hold her soft body in his arms, taking whatever he wants, chasing a temporary release, but more often, he can’t even be bothered.

It was just one night, one lapse of judgment, one derailed mistake. It’s supposed to be nothing, but he knows that’s a lie. How could it be nothing when it made him angry, confused, and although for just a brief moment, wholeheartedly relaxed and happy? Nothing, no one else has been able to do that, not for a very long time. If it’s about sex, he’s done that with so many gorgeous women; if it’s about novelty, he still doesn’t feel anything towards any man. If it’s about the person…he hates everything about the person.

It doesn’t make any sense, but he wants it. Fuck…he craves it.

*

Miguel runs a hand down his face and takes a look at his watch. It’s almost time for dinner. He should eat something and put all these useless thoughts behind. They will disappear one day; eventually they won’t matter as time passes by. That’s always the case, plus he has a lot more important matters to occupy his mind with. He agreed to larger shipments, so his organization needs to deliver that promise.

He calls his secretary in, asks her to get someone to clean shattered glass pieces off the floor, put the bag of cash aside and bring him dinner. She nods at his commands and walks out, and then, a cleaning lady and two security guys walk in, each doing their task silently without disturbing him, efficient and organized. Within a few minutes, all evidence disappeared without a trace.

The secretary comes back after another fifteen minutes with his dinner, along with a box of freshly baked cupcakes.

“Your wife stopped by earlier, sir, and she asked me to give this to you.”

Miguel looks at the cupcakes. They’re very pretty, of course, everything Daniela does is pretty. She worked at an art gallery after all.

“Did she say anything else?”

“She said she’s going out for dinner tonight, but she’ll be back before midnight.”

“Ok, thanks.” Honestly, he’s not sure what she does or who she hangs out with these days, and he doesn’t really care, and he knows she doesn’t care what he does either. He’s ok with that.

The phone rings, and the secretary turns to leave without being asked, closing the door behind her.

*

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.” There’s some background noise on Amado’s side. “I’m back at the airport, just wanted to tell you that we should be ready for the larger shipment this weekend.”

“This weekend? That’s earlier than expected, right?”

“Yeah, we’re all good here! I could have told you earlier, but just wanted to talk to a few more guys to make sure.”

“That’s good! Great job, Amado.”

“Yeah, no problem. Just let me know when the next shipment is coming.”

“Of course.”

He puts down the phone and picks up a cupcake. Usually he doesn’t like dessert or other sweet things in general, but good news with business always puts him under a better mood.

It’s only after he finishes dinner, he realizes that he will need to call Pacho and tell him they’re ready for the shipment— the last person he wants to speak with at the moment.

It’s stupid, he knows. There is absolutely no way to avoid or ignore Pacho if he wants to keep doing business with Cali. Even if he tries to avoid direct contact, the act itself would appear as weakness and defeat, and he will never allow that, so might as well just rip the band-aid off.

Business carries on; the world carries on. He sits there for a while, indulging the nervousness and paranoia in his mind, until they naturally calm down just enough for him to take action.

He grabs the phone and dials the now familiar number.

For some reason, it takes significantly longer for the other side to answer this time.

“Hello?” After six or seven rings, he almost hangs up when Pacho’s voice comes through, smooth and calm as usual, but it sounds different to him now, because all he hears is this exact same voice whispering seductively in his ear, in complete darkness.

“Hello.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “Is this a bad time?”

“I answered, didn’t I? But it better be important if you’re calling at this hour.”

What hour? Miguel frowns and turns to the clock: it’s already 12:30?! How long was he zoned out for? Now his reason will just sound ridiculous. No one calls at midnight to say they can deliver the shipment early. For a second, he almost wishes that he actually has some business crisis going on, so he can be saved from this embarrassment.

“You’re still there?” Pacho speaks again, audibly more impatient.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to call at this time but…” He pinches his nose bridge. Well, something is better than nothing. “I just wanted to tell you we’re ready for the next shipment, if you want to send it a week or two earlier.”

There’s nothing but complete silence for at least 10 seconds, not even the sound of breathing. His palm starts to sweat, making it more difficult to hold the phone.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah…look, I just lost track of...”

“Of what?” Pacho interrupts him. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Of time!” The coldness and accusation in the other man’s voice turns his own embarrassment into irritation and defensiveness. Why does the Colombia always have to be such a fucking asshole?! “What, it’s never happened to you before?”

Pacho scoffs, the contempt still very clear across thousands of miles, on the other end of a phone.

“Fine, sorry to interrupt whatever you were doing.” He wraps up the conversation in the politest manner he can manage, ready to just hand up and toss the phone.

“And what are you really doing, Miguel?”

His finger freezes on the red button, like he’s bespelled by the sound of his own name. Pacho has never called him that. At first it was Félix, and then Miguel Ángel, but never just Miguel. In fact, the only person who calls him Miguel is María, and Neto too, sometimes, but that old man just calls anyone whatever he wants.

Part of him feels extremely offended, enraged even, because it’s not Pacho’s fucking place to call him that.

However, it’s not only the name itself that’s the issue, but more about the way it is said: carefully, intentionally, with every syllable meticulously pronounced.

“What are you doing, hmm? Sitting behind your desk alone, in a large, empty room?” Pacho keeps talking, now with a much more softened tone, but somehow it sounds even more dangerous, more personal. “Do you hear voices in your head too?”

He should just hang up. He is in fact hearing a voice in his head right now, and it’s screaming at him to fucking hang up.

He shuts it up internally, and brings the phone back to his ear. “What about you then? Your best late night activity is to insult me over the phone? How interesting.”

Silence falls upon them again, and Miguel feels his heart dropping in his chest. What the fuck is he doing, throwing meaningless insults back and forth like some rebellious teenager? He shouldn’t have called at all. That is the worst idea, or the second worst maybe, the worst one being sleeping with Pacho.

A small sound passes through the line, almost inaudible, and he can’t tell if it’s a huff or a sigh. But then Pacho laughs out, nothing extra, merely a light chuckle, but just like that, all the tension vanishes under the lightheartedness.

“Well, it could be worse.” The Colombian says, teasingly, but still an acknowledgment nothing less than truce, yet it makes him feel more taken back than any threats he was anticipating.

Are you ok? He almost wants to ask, but of course he doesn’t.

“Like what?” He ends up asking, although he knows it’s a useless thing to say. In fact, there’s no point in keeping this conversation going at all.

“Can you seriously not think of anything worse than being insulted in this business?”

“That’s fair.” He feels the corners of his mouth curve up into a tiny smile. It’s the ugly truth, but hearing it from Pacho somehow makes it sound like dark humor.

“We’ll send the shipment a week early. You can expect it on Sunday.”

“Ok, sure.” He almost forgot that was what they were talking about before the conversation took a weird turn. “I’ll tell them to get ready.”

“Bueno.” There’s a slight change in Pacho’s tone, like the kind of strenuous sound when someone talks while trying to reach for something. “Is there anything else?”

“No, that’s it.” He keeps his voice even, but can’t stop himself from imagining the Colombian stretching in bed, or reaching to the side to turn off the lamp… He closes his eyes and snaps the thought out of his brain. What the hell’s wrong with him?!

“Alright, buenas noches.”

“Buenas noches.” Miguel responds, a little more hurriedly than intended, so he can hang up as soon as possible.

The office becomes quiet again. It’s not even that late, and there must be some people still awake in the hotel, but he can’t hear them since he’s on the top floor. It’s great most of the time. It provides an appropriate environment to focus, to think, but the problem is he can never fully control what he thinks. He can most of the time, but not a hundred percent— no one can do that, not even him.

When his mind wanders free, quietness transforms from blessing to curse.

He gets up from the armchair, stretching his arms a little, and walks into the bathroom. It’s going to be another restless night.

*

Miguel wakes up the next morning when sunlight shines through the slit between thick curtains. He didn’t sleep that bad, surprisingly. He spent quite some time tossing and turning, but once he drifted off, he slept through the entire time. Maybe it’s better for him to sleep alone now.

After he gets ready and walks into the office again, the secretary tells him Azul’s here. He lets him in, and they talk about some updates within the organization: the fuel between Tijuana and Sinaloa, some difficult PRI politicians…all the old annoying shit, nothing easy but nothing new.

“Did you hear about Cali already?” Azul suddenly asks, just when he thinks the conversation is about to end.

“What?” He switches to a calmer tone. “What about them?”

“They were bombed by Escobar last night. I heard it hit pretty close.”

“Wait, last night?”

“Yeah?” Azul confirms a little hesitantly. “Did you hear something else?”

“No, but I just spoke with them on the phone last night, and they said they could send their shipment on Sunday.” He states the facts, carefully masking all the emotions. “Probably not that serious, just get me more information on the two senators you mentioned.”

Azul nods, and takes it as his cue to leave.

Once he’s alone again, Miguel pours himself a glass of whisky. It’s a terrible idea to drink liquor before breakfast, especially for his stomach, but he doesn’t care. He needs it.

He fucking called Pacho after midnight for something insignificant, right after Cali was bombed. But that’s not even the worst part.

The worst part is that it bothers him, while he has zero reason to care.

@ashlingiswriting @narcolini @yourlocalspacewitxch @drabbles-mc @mandaloria314 @alreadywritten @cheesybadgers @cherixrosa @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @dashavau @sikkui

[sigomaru]

i incoherently ramble about how working on this was like on my art blog:

i left this out to dry for a few days, so now that it has indeed been a few days here are gifs of shots i liked in the final thing

shots i like didn't mean i actually liked working on them though (at the time the shot of old men running from the dog felt like a cop out to me). production is a wild thing. still, keeping the words of Miku of Hatsune true to heart, 'learn to complete things', i still had fun working on this overall!

when i was working on this, i had...less than a month to finish this. i thought that was fine, i had worked on music videos for school in much tighter schedules (the video with the song about kisaragi station was done in under a week)

did i mention that i'm god-awful at predicting how long it takes me to finish things?

the entire time i was really worried that my lack of proper planning beforehand would make the video incomprehensible to anyone but myself. would people question the dog? are people gonna notice the scenes i scrimped on? is valjean too passive in here, and so on and forth. but one thing i learned from other things i've made is that most of the time, i'm the only one who cares about stuff like that. as long as the story in the video is cohesive, it's probably ok, and people generally fill in the blanks themselves.

genuinely, i was blown away by the positive responses i got on the video, and especially people picking up on deliberate choices i made with the imagery! if people are able to get the symbolism i used in the video, then it will all have been worth it in the end. that being said i won't talk too much about what this and that means because i like seeing what people make of this

but past me didn't realise that people would receive this video that well, so the entire time, i had to ignore that corner of my brain worrying about the final output, internally chanting 'learn to complete things' over and over in my head.

again, my lack of proper planning scared me a little, because. well. the thing was barely storyboarded at all, save for a few scenes. and what i did storyboard had a lot of complex motions that i had to sacrifice to get it out by the end of the week.

(my pre-production stuff looks better than this i swear i just slack off if i alone am my own production crew) for example, that scene where they were eating was supposed to have this bit where the soup flashes back at an angry prisoner valjean. i was going to try to keep the Soup but at that point i was establishing a routine in the video, and i tried to rationalise dropping the shot with 'the second time they're eating, we don't get a soup shot, so it'd be weird to get a soup shot here if i'm trying to show a mundane daily life'.

on the note of barely storyboarded, the visuals for the first chorus were a nightmare to work on. in fact, they were the last part of the video to be completed! other scenes weren't fully boarded either (latter half of the second verse, bridge, first half of the final chorus) but i at least had some idea of what to do for them--the second verse is flashback zone and the final chorus was always going to have valjean running towards a falling javert with a shot that would connect directly from the bridge. and any grand idea i had in my head was easy to distill into something workable in a short amount of time.

but the first chorus? oh christ. absolutely head empty no thoughts. had a great starting shot with valjean nearly getting chomped but trying to transition into any other shot just felt so awkward. one earlier iteration was going to have valjean taming the wolf, but it would never come into play again in any of the later scenes. another iteration was going to have valjean attack the wolf for javert, but that made javert too much of a damsel. at some point i ended up coming up with that final shot for that scene where they hide in an alleyway, and then the trouble came with connecting the first and the last shots in a way that looked cool. like i said, working on it i felt like the way i handled it was a cop-out, but honestly, i think the editing portion saved it in the end. sometimes i forget just how much editing can add to shots that look limp when first drawn.

honestly, me talking about the first chorus just felt like

speaking of limp drawings, here are what the dog chomps used to look like before i added all those effects.

it's not so much a 'crunch' more than it is a 'nom'.

so to end this off--this sent my soul in the next dimension to finish. but i had fun and after a cooldown period i will do something like this again (i have two ideas in the backburner)

...

...as for the vocaloid cover, uh, there's not really much to say other than the fact that i was debating between two versions? between the masculine and the realistic one, the masculine one won as you can hear in the video.

normally this is the part where i make some kind of caption that's funny or related to the video, but honestly i'm just so glad i got this done in time

anyway happy valvert week part 2. the song is 命の食べ方 by eve

@valvertweek

[k8rgrl]

More kate venting. Israel/palestine shit below the cut. If you're here to argue, go fuck yourself. Show some damn compassion.

I'm legitimately tempted to block tags related to this shit at this point. It is so fucking exhausting hearing about it constantly. Yes. I know it's a fucking genocide. Yes. I know the idf is commiting countless warcrimes. What the fuck is signal boosting going to do??? Everyone who follows me fucking knows already!! We all fucking know!

I don't have money to throw at charities, I don't have the energy or time, or resources to volunteer, I can't do jack shit!

Can't even go to protests!

I live with my dad, my grandmother, and my grandfather.

I was raised jewish, both sides of the family. I'm not anymore, I'm pagan, but my granddad and gma are still.

My grandfather is an incredibly passionate, and caring guy. He saved me from a lot of really bad shit, and goes out of his way to help people who need it.

He even tried to be a good leftist. He doesn't know that, but he's got most of the right ideas.

Except he's a fucking zionist. And not even out of bigotry. It's out of primal fuckin fear and trauma that he would rather die than address.

It's so exhausting. He's got this weird fucked up idea that being critical of israel in any way what so ever is antisemitic. It's this absolutely mind-numbing thought terminating cliché.

Any time the slightest hint of the continent comes up, he becomes the most obnoxiously staunch Israel supporter.

I know he has no hatred in him. He just genuinely cannot understand that supporting palestine isn't the same as wanting every jew dead.

I'm not kidding, that's unironically what he believes. I don't have the heart to tell him I'm pagan when he's yelling with legitimate fear for his and my safety that pro-palestine people want me dead.

He's even admitted that the only difference in our stances is where the line is as to what's supporting palestine and what's supporting hamas.

And he's said if he ever caught me going to a "pro-hamas" protest he'd kick me out without hesitation.

That's already tiring enough, but I don't go to protests, so, fine, whatever. Not taking the risk now, that's for damn sure.

And then there's the fucking internet. Gods I hate how the internet has handled this shit.

Especially in leftist spaces. At least I can comfortably call right-wingers garbage takes for what they are and discard them.

And then, people on here have the gall to say shit like "i don't want to see any white people ever again say how china, the middle east and many others asian countries are censored and that people there have no rights, don't you dare to make fun of north korea when your president wants jail for people who deny the state of isr*el" (they censored it, not me)

How fucking dare you minimize other people's suffering because one group has it horrifically bad right now.

Where were you when yemeni people were being wholesale slaughtered? How about the Uyghurs?

Lemme guess, didn't have the energy? Didn't have any way to meaningfully help? JOIN THE FUCKING CLUB.

And for those of you degrading and mocking people who say vote, or contact your reps, fuck are we SUPPOSED to do?

Grab a plane ticket to an active warzone, and get murdered for a cause it would take a lifetime of traumatic horrors, or a phd to fully comprehend?

Riot in the streets for the sake of awareness, and get labelled a terrorist and ignored?

I'm not some fucking anarchist revolutionary. I'm a transfem barely able to self-motivate, who barely finds spoons for her productive hobbies, much less genocide awareness advocacy, while living in a household with a nearly 70 year old man who is so traumatized he'd rather call his granddaughter antisemitic than accept that being critical of israel isn't wanting him and every other jew in a fucking camp.

So yeah, I sure am just going to live my life like I was. What else am I supposed to do? Uproot my life and become yet another victim of a vicious cycle of colonialism? Become another voice yelling blindly into every void I can, in the vain hopes I convince someone of something I barely understand, after hours of research?

Support and advice appreciated, anything with an aggressive tone or call me something… dude, get some sunlight. Even just through a window. Go play with your pet, if you have one. Call a friend. Do anything except yell at a stranger on the internet.

[jakeperalta]

Can you explain why you and other people like Question..? So much? Idk..I think it's fine but probably one of my least favorites. I think cuz when I first heard it..it seemed pretty mean spirited. Like have you ever had someone kiss you in a crowded room..then all your friends were making fun of you..but 15 seconds later they were clapping too? It gives me the feeling of when a boy in high school asks out a girl as a joke..then they start making fun of her pointing and laughing..then saying we were just kidding..but still laughing. or maybe she asked the guy out..and thought he liked her back..but of course it was all in her head. Like I picture it maybe at a school dance..and then she runs out of the room crying. I know this is pretty specific but they are specific lyrics and I guess that's what kinda matches my experience. Maybe cuz You're on your Own, Kid already made me think of it too..like all of my high school experiences and how it got me nothing..she also mentions a blood soaked gown which makes me think of Carrie..and a similar situation that I described happens in the movie..so maybe that's why. It also reminds me of something that would be or happen in a Maisie Peters song..not a Taylor song..maybe like outdoor pool? Then the part about the meteor strike..that's what she felt about the guy but of course he has a gf..you're with her.. cuz why wouldn't he and you feel like such an idiot about it all. Anyway sorry for this..but I picture something like this everytime and the lyrics also have a negative connotation so for me..the vibes are just off. Maybe if the specific lyrics weren't there and if it was just a general do you like me too vibe..I would like it more. Also it being about Harry makes it more annoying lol. It kinda grew on me when I tried to accept it for what it is but my sister and I agree on it being kind of a weird bland song that didn't make sense to us..either why she would write it or in general. Like I know why she wrote it I guess..but I dislike the way she wrote it but maybe that's the point? Maybe I just can't get past the scene in my head now though. Sorry to whoever likes it..it's just so negative..idk!

I think overall partly I just enjoy the sound - I like how she sings it and the way the production sort of builds and becomes more layered as it goes on. as for the lyrics I think there's definitely a sort of biting undertone to the way she's essentially blaming him but passing it off as "just a question" but also the picture of the relationship that I get is fairly positive, at least in that it was something that was once fun and passionate. the kissing in a crowded room scene I picture is more like their friends are jokingly teasing them with a sense of "can't believe you two are getting together" and the excitement of that time felt like a meteor strike that they're both still thinking about even once they've supposedly moved on.

it's so cool though how it can be interpreted so differently! I can totally see the outdoor pool vibes to your version of it and it's interesting that it can really be reframed as a song about being heartbroken/humiliated

[alicechess]

The new nightguard (yandere Springtrap x f!reader) night 4

Words: 3718

Tw: Being beaten

You wondered in your backyard and started hanging your clothes, hoping that your work clothes will be dry before work. The day was pretty sunny considering it was winter. But annoyingly it was still freezingly cold. You picked up the last pair of pants and threw it over the clothes line, then grabbed a peg and put it onto the pants. Once you finished you felt oddly proud of yourself, you got something productive done today. Even if it was small, it was still something. You picked up your clothes hamper and opened the back door, then went to the laundry room and placed it on the floor. You checked the time on your phone which read 5pm. 'Dinner time already?' Time went by fast when you were busy.

You walked to the kitchen and prepared your favourite meal. Once it was finished you headed to the dining room and pulled out a chair and sat down. It felt weird to not stress as much during the day as you normally do. You slowly ate your food, thinking of what to do next. You counted with your fingers on what you did today. "I got the washing done, somewhat cleaned my room-"

"Y/n, it's nice to see you out of your room for once." Your father joked, patting your head.

You rolled your eyes, "Love you too, dad." Then continued to munch on your food.

He pulled out a chair and sat next to you, placing his hands on the table. "So, how's work been?"

You immediately stopped eating and looked at your dad, "Not good, but I'm at least getting it done." Then took another bite of your food, trying to savour it before having to speak again.

Your dads attitude changed to one of concern, "Do you want to talk about it? Work can be a bit tough at times, but you get used to it after a while."

You thought for a few moments. 'Should I try to talk to him about it again? No, I shouldn't. I tried at the hospital but he didn't believe me, why would I think it would work this time?' You sighed, fuck this stupid job.

"No thanks, I'll get through it though." You gave him a small smile. He could be good at times, but you still felt this small bit of anger towards him. The amount of pressure he has been putting on your for the past couple years has been slowly eating away at you. He probably had good intentions, but in the end all it did was cause problems. Being called lazy after trying your best, being degraded over and over again. Why does he act like everything is okay?

"Why not? You never talk to me about anything." He asked, a frown forming on his face.

"I just... you've been pressuring you me a lot for the past few years and, I feel like whatever I do is never enough for you." You sputtered out, maybe it was better to get at least this off your chest.

"Y/n, I'm sorry, I never intended to make you feel that way." He clasped his hand over yours, "I just wanted to motivate you to do better, and in the end you did get this job, right? So didn't it technically help you? You now get to go out and talk to others, and hey you even get your own pay. Isn't this a good thing overall? Are you not happy?"

He then looked away, "Am I not doing enough for you?"

You were shocked, however you put on a calm façade. You looked away from him and stared elsewhere. There's no point in arguing, that will just cause even more stress for you. He told you constantly that what you were doing wasn't enough, to the point you started to slowly break yourself down just to fit into his mould of a perfect daughter. You dug your nails into your skin and took a deep breath. 'This is fine.' You shrugged, then he let go of your hands.

"It's fine." You lied.

You scoffed down the rest of your food, grabbed your crutches and went over to the sink and placed the dishes into it, "It was nice talking to you but I have to do some paperwork." You replied, feigning a sympathetic smile.

Your father looked puzzled, but let it go. "Alright, well I'll be in the lounge room with your mother." He got out of the chair and pushed it in.

After he said that you went upstairs to your room, making sure to lock the door behind you. It's annoying when they randomly walk in. You sat on your bed then placed the crutches against the nightstand. Sometimes you pondered on why you even try to please them, as it feels like nothing you do is good enough.

You sighed, for the next few hours you continued to do some of your hobbies. It's good to at least be able to enjoy something in your life.

After a while you decided to check the time which read 10:30pm. You thought for a few moments and decided to go get the washing off the line. You got off the bed and grabbed your crutches then went downstairs. You picked up the clothes basket from the laundry then went to your backyard. Once you picked off all the clothes and placed them into the basket, you went back upstairs and poured all the clothes onto your bed. You folded and put them away besides your work ones.

You got changed into your clean clothes, which made you feel a bit better. You tidied yourself up by brushing your hair and applying some deodorant. After, you picked up your socks and boots then slid them on. Once you were finished you grabbed your bag which was on the floor, then went back downstairs. You grabbed a bottle from the cupboard and filled it with water, then you grabbed some snacks and put it all in the bag. After making sure you didn't miss anything important, you pulled your phone out and dialled the taxis number. It took them a bit longer than normal to pick up, nonetheless the lady on the phone answered. You told her where you lived and after a few moments she said one would be there in 20 minutes. You thanked her and said goodbye.

Once you were outside you locked the door and sat on the porch, crutches next to you. It was chilly like normal, but today was a bit more windy. You shivered and hugged yourself 'Hopefully it won't be as cold at work.'

In a way you regretted not staying inside and waiting, but you wanted to keep an eye out for the taxi. You constantly glanced at the sky and admired it, where you were it was much clearer, which was nice. Occasionally you went onto your phone to play some games, but you still enjoyed the view.

When the taxi pulled up you slipped on your bag and walked over. You opened the car door and got in, sitting the crutches next to you. The driver said hello and asked where you wanted to go, which you then told him. The man then started the car and drove off. You were surprised as the whole drive went without a hitch. Most of the time you looked out of the window and watched as everything turned into a blur. The window was foggy, which made it difficult to discern where you were. Majority of the drive you were stuck in thought, thinking of what job to look for after this one. You definitely weren't staying, that's for sure. The thought of going to college crossed your mind, but even then you still had to weigh the pros and cons.

Unlike yesterdays, this driver wasn't unnerving, as he didn't constantly glance at you. But you suppose you did look neater this time, so that's probably why.

Once the car started to slow down and stop the man told you how much it'd cost, to which you then pulled out your purse and gave him the money. You thanked him and opened the door, grabbed your bag and crutches then got out. The taxi drove off fast, it wouldn't surprise you if he thought you were up to some shady stuff because of how the building looked. You chuckled at the thought, but also felt kind of bad.

You slowly went over to the building, not feeling as nervous as yesterday. Though the same sense of dread still was there, you were waiting for the worst here.

When you got to the front door to the building you dug your hand into your jeans and pulled out the keys. You unlocked the door, placed your hand onto the handle and opened it. Once you stepped inside you were met by the same surroundings as yesterday. Nothing ever changed in here, you wondered if the owners ever came in to check it out. Who knew what happened while you weren't here. You walked down the halls, taking note of how the lights occasionally flickered. It definitely make the place freakier and put you on edge. With that, the place was also painfully quiet, the only sound were your footsteps echoing throughout the halls. There were a lot of wires hanging from the walls, which you found a bit concerning. How did you not notice this earlier?

You stepped into the security office and chucked your bag onto the desk, then plopped down onto the chair. You leaned back and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the tape to start. You spun around on the chair, then once that got boring you moved onto throwing a small bouncy ball into the air and catching it. Got to entertain yourself somehow, right? After a few catches it fell onto the ground and rolled all the way to the other side, to which you groaned and mumbled out a "Damn it." You couldn't be bothered to go get it. A few seconds later you pulled out your phone and saw a message pull up.

Boss: There have been some concerns regarding the animatronic, as the programming has been malfunctioning. The animatronic has not been responding properly and continues to move past 6am. We will be there at about 7am, so you'll be required to stay for an hour longer. Make sure to leave through the exit door. Thanks.

"Hold the fuck up, I didn't agree to-" You stopped mind sentence as it dawned on to you, that fucking contract. You technically did agree to this. You cursed loudly and clenched your fists. You're working with an animatronic that won't stop moving even after hours, how lovely. You placed your arms onto the desk and pinched the bridge of your nose. 'Todays the last night, this will be the last time I'll have to deal with this thing. One more night till I'm free.'

As you were on the line of freaking out, you heard the tape go off. This didn't startle you, as you were expecting it to go off soon.

"Uh, hello? Hello, hello! Uh, there's been a slight change of company policy concerning use of the suits. Um, don't. After learning of an unfortunate incident at the sister location, involving multiple and simultaneous spring lock failures, the company has deemed the suits temporarily unfit for employees. Safety is our top priority at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, which is why the classic suits are being retired to an appropriate location, while being looked at by our technician. Until replacements arrive, you'll be expected to wear the temporary costumes provided to you. Keep in mind that they were found on very short notice, so questions about appropriateness/relevance should be deflected. I repeat, the classic suits are not to be touched, activated or worn. That being said, we are free of liability, do as you wish. As always, remember to smile; you are the face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."

You flipped through all the cameras while trying to find where that bunny was, a couple times you saw more of those ash covered animatronics, one which looked like a deformed boy and for a split second you saw a chicken.... on an arcade screen? When you went back to have a look again you didn't see them again. It was odd, it seems as if once you click off they just disappear over all. Which made you feel nervous, but nonetheless you continued searching. They've never hurt you, so you must be okay, right?

After flipping through all of the cameras that view the halls, you moved onto the vents. As you started checking you heard something, although it was quite subtle. When you got to vent 14 you saw him, so you quickly pressed the button to seal it. Instead of him getting angry, he simply just moved away. Although confused, you watched him exit through cam 10. That was a good thing as you could finally keep him around there, far away from you. He started to walk off down the halls, however, once he reached near cam 09 you pressed the audio button for 10. He simply ignored it, which started make you nervous.

It must've been a mistake.... right?

Right?

Nonetheless, you continued to press it. Once in cam 10, then in cam 09. But he just kept ignoring it.

You felt ill, a pit forming in your stomach when you realised you had to fix the audio button already. You pressed it, basically praying it'll work next time. After a few seconds you then went back to the cams and viewed 08, that creepy hall with the Chica head and presents. The same place you saw that puppet yesterday. The kid drawings that hung on the wall was unsettling. Regardless, you watched as he went to cam 07. As you looked around you noticed that in the arcade machine was what looked like an animatronic chicken? When you realised it was the same one as you saw earlier; it was too late. Suddenly it disappeared off the screen, and not long after you saw something move in the corner of your eye. You were scared, what was it? You dreaded the thought of something attacking you, but you still looked up.

Your eyes widened in fear when you saw it standing in your office. Within a second it jumped at you, but before reaching you fully it suddenly disappeared. This caused you to fall off the chair and onto the rubble that was scattered on the floor. It hurt as the bits of concrete stabbed into your skin. You almost screamed in fear, but you held it back and bit your tongue. You sat there for a few seconds in shock, what the fuck just happened? You wanted to think of it more, to try and think of a logical explanation. But before you could ponder more the lights started to flash red and that damn siren blared into your ears. Knowing the situation was becoming serious, you quickly crawled back onto the chair and pressed the ventilation button. After a few seconds the lights stopped flashing and everything became silent.

You sighed in relief, still feeling your heart rapidly beating from that incident. You flipped through the cameras as you saw he got closer, he was walking down the hall near cam 05, bunny ears hitting the silver stars that were hanging off the ceiling. The hall was so dark that you almost missed him. It was unsurprising that he got so close, he knew you were here. And for some reason he wanted to hurt you.

You pressed the audio button for cam 06, to which he ignored as well. You felt your heartbeat increase, he's not following the it anymore. You pressed it another two times, but he continued to get closer and closer.

The audio button wouldn't work as there was an error, so you had to press the button and wait for it to finish. Once it was you did the same thing as before. It still didn't follow, you were becoming so angry and frustrated. If you stayed here any longer things will get bad like the first night. You wanted to run out but he would be blocking the way down the halls. You glanced again at the cams and he was gone from cam 05. You cursed under your breath, at the brink of freaking out.

You flipped to cam 4 at the end of the hall, staring at the camera close to the foxy head. The closer he got, the more powerless you felt. You shouldn't have came back. You should've stayed far away. All the regret was much heavier this time, you just wanted to curl into a ball and cry. You wanted to go home, even if it means having to spend months on end again trying to find a job. You started to tense up and tap onto the dirty desk.

Maybe you could crawl through the vents and exit through there. However you'd have to make sure that he's not in, who knows what he'd do if he put his filthy hands on you. The more that you thought about the possibilities the more you wanted to leave. The fear kept building up the more steps he took. Once he reached cam 02 you made up your mind.

You had to leave

Now

But how'd you crawl through with a broken leg? You cursed again, bumping your left leg up and down. It will be excruciating, but it's better than dying. You got off the chair and onto the floor, making sure to grab your phone. You then went into the vent, trying to not make any noise. You weren't too sure where to go, but after looking through the vent cams so many times you had an idea. Cam 15 was positioned near the left of you, however that's connected to where Springtrap would be. If you were to go down a little then turn left you'll be able to get to where cam 14 is, the exit is positioned right outside of it.

After quickly thinking it through, it sounded so simple. 'I'll be free.'

You continued down, however while crawling through you heard Springtraps footsteps entering the security room. You felt sick, but he didn't know where you were. You were safe.

But you heard the cameras click, and that's when you froze.

'Shit, he's looking for me.' You thought, crawling faster.

You genuinely hoped he was stupid enough to not check the vents. You fastened your pace, ignoring the pain that ached throughout your leg. Oh how you wanted to cry, but you pushed through it. When you turned left, you noticed that the cameras light turned red, he was viewing the vents.

You stopped immediately, waiting for it to stop flashing. It felt like forever waiting for it to turn off, however when it did, you instantly continued on. Once you were close enough to reaching the exit, you noticed something was off. Did he just stop looking for you? Everything was much more quieter than normal. But when you poked your head out, he was standing right there in front of the exit, looking straight at you.

You froze for a few seconds, 'no no no, this can't be right. It's been only a minute and he's already here?!' You thought, then tried to move backwards, but before you could move he grabbed your foot and pulled, you tried to dig your nails into the metal but it wouldn't work. He ripped you out like you were as light as a feather. You were nothing when compared to him.

When you were laying right in front of him, a face full of pure fear, he smiled. Not a nice and friendly one, it was an evil and sadistic one. You were simply nothing to him but a toy. And oh how he was going to have fun.

He placed is foot onto your chest, which made you mortified. He loved it. He tilted his head back, a loud laugh escaping from his mouth. He found this situation hilarious. This resulted in you looking disgusted, your face scrunched up. After a few seconds he placed his hand onto his chest and tried to calm down. But oh how this was amazing for him. So pathetic, weak. You were completely at his mercy.

"Now what to do with you now..." He mumbled out, to which you started to try and move out his grip. Attempting to push him off, scratching while looking for an object nearby. He just stared in amusement, finding this funny. You kept going till your fingers started to burn from the friction. You slammed your fists again his legs, hoping to break anything or even do the smallest amount of damage to him. Just anything, even the smallest amount of control in this situation you'd take. But all it did was harm you more than him.

When your hand started to ache to the point it you could barely move it, you realised there was nothing you could do. So you just started to cry even more. The feeling of being weak, the regret, dread and complete fear was becoming too much. Tears streamed down your cheeks and onto the floor.

He tore at one of the wires in the walls, causing it to spark, then he leaned down and pulled you up by the hair, which caused you to yelp. Then he pushed it down, smashing you onto the ground.

You screamed harder, the pain radiating all throughout your head. You honestly weren't sure if he cracked your skull or not, you tried one more time to get up, but yet again there was nothing you could do. You watched helplessly as he picked you up bridal style, but not long after you started to see stars and inky black spots clouding your vision. The next thing you know you were into a deep slumber, in such a weak state with a mass murderer.

[I'll be releasing part 5 soon!]

[italwayshadtobeyou]

I think that Creation has the right-ish idea, at the wrong time. They should've begun experimenting with the broader CW brand's convention potential back when the Arrowverse and TVDverse were hot. Maybe even shuffle a few actors from The 100 into the deck. Replace some SPN actors with some other actors at a few conventions, see how sales compare to SPN-only cons. I'm actually surprised that that didn't happen back in the 2010s. In particular, it blows my mind that they never tried to monetize Katie Cassidy's status as a former member of the regular cast on SPN and ongoing member of the regular cast on Arrow.

Now, that strategy may or may not have worked, but it would've been a better bet than "Jensen and related IPs." At least people had a rough idea of what a CW show was, and many people watched SPN + other CW show(s), as evidenced by SPN's value when paired with them (x). For the most part, The CW made shows about dark themes and imaginary situations. At their best, these featured believable characters, yet remained escapist in the particulars of their plots. AND OH, THE ANGST. Maybe the network was the equivalent of fast food rather than fine dining, but, like successful franchise restaurants, it had more or less consistent products in just enough varieties to keep a broad crowd coming back.

"Jensen and associates from shows he's been in" is a tougher sell, at least at CE prices. I liked his performance as Soldier Boy in The Boys, but it's a wildly different show from SPN, and he didn't get enough great scenes with other characters to justify multiple panels with his co-stars. (I'm still irked by how little screen time he shared with Crimson Countess.) Smallville? Well, they can try, but it's a pretty deep cut, from a different era/iteration of the network, and his character doesn't even seem to be popular. Dark Angel? Good luck convincing personal-care maven Jessica Alba that she should take time off to sit on stage with a colleague, that she didn't even get along with, from 20 years ago.

SPN isn't a family show in the sense of "watch it all with your kindergarteners," but it's a show that many people remember fondly from middle and high school, and that many people now watch with their own middle- and high-school kids. And it's very much about the devastating/transcendent nature of intense relationships. The Boys is a satire of contemporary politics, with a heavy dose of shock value. It doesn't demand investment in any particular relationship, it's gross rather than spooky, and I'd certainly feel weird about watching it with a middle-schooler. At ComicCon or DragonCon, these two shows' audiences would spend most of their time in separate rooms. I don't think that, outside of a Jensen solo panel, fans are going to be happy troopers at a convention built around his résumé.

That could, of course, change, should Jensen get another role more compatible with SPN's brand. But for now, I think that his best bet is the same as Jared's: Do press for current roles, book solo panels at multi-fandom conventions, and avoid cons where he has to carry the interest of all the attendees.

So apparently, per a CE email, they are full on rebranding the 2024 SPN Con Tour as Jensen's:

We have some thrilling news to share with all of our fellow fans of The Boys! Creation is excited to present The Road So Far… The Road Ahead 2024 Tour, featuring none other than Jensen Ackles, who plays Soldier Boy in the hit Amazon Prime series. This is a special opportunity for fans to come together and celebrate Jensen Ackles' iconic role as Dean Winchester in Supernatural, as well as his new role in The Boys franchise. PLUS, we have more amazing SPN guests on the tour, including Misha Collins ("Castiel"), Jared Padalecki ("Sam Winchester") -- and Jeffrey Dean Morgan ("John Winchester") and Rob Benedict ("Chuck/God"), who will be joining The Boys cast in the upcoming Season 4! Watch the trailer for Season 4 above! Whether you're a longtime fan of Jensen or a new admirer, join us for a weekend filled with panel discussions, meet and greets, photo opportunities, autograph sessions, exclusive merchandise, and more. It’s the perfect chance to connect with your fellow fans and immerse yourself in the world of Supernatural and more. Don't miss out on a wild adventure! Click here and mark your calendars for your favorite destination. Your "The Boys are back!" friends at Creation Entertainment

So now Jared is included in the "amazing SPN guests"??? F*ck off. I know he isn't doing them all but this is just… a low blow tbh. This feels like CE's 'f*ck you' to Jared for branching out and essentially screwing them over.

I'm sure AA's and Jared antis will be celebrating int he streets, but Jared isn't doing less cons, he's just doing less CE cons. Also he's actually working.

Oh this is so funny! Always be careful of what you wish for because Jensen finally got his Dean show and the AAs finally got their Jensen-centric show but we all know AAs are actually sweating bullets that Jared won't be around to save Jensen from himself, and hellers will wonder which one of them is going to ruin Misha's reputation......

.

But seriously, clearly Creation Entertainment saw the math on the wall and the sum of which is a Jared-shaped-hole where money used to be. Jared actually has a career outside of Supernatural , so he Fox-Muldered himself. For reference...

But for Jensen and most alumni, Supernatural will be their best-known gigs. I said here and here 5 years ago that "Misha and the rest of the one hit wonders may have 5 years of con circuit to rake in the money, after that it’s Meet & Greets at strip malls". And that was assuming Jared would still be co-heading with Jensen.

So by now attendances are peeling off and a few actors apparently told their fans that CE reduced their salary to the point that either working at CE is no longer viable or CE essentially fired them. CE is desperate to attract new con-goers by throwing out The Boys mentions and adding Smallville actors and rebranding as "J1 and friends convention"! I wonder if CE is still demanding the same outrageous price for the privilege of a J2 event without one of the Js.