#he was a 13 year old in a fucked up situation

[solarsturniolo]

ik you've been critical of the triplets before (breath of fresh fucking air tbh)

wanted to know what you thought about the whole mallory situation? she made a tiktok saying she was concerned about their physically aggressive behavior and how she didn't think it was right that they would act like that, and they responded to her tiktok in a friday video. idk i certainly have thoughts but i wanna hear yours if you're ok with sharing them

Oh i was waiting for this one.

To start, THIS IS NOT A HATE POST. But it is something that needs to be said. I’d also like to clarify that i’m not trying to ‘clock’ anyone in this post. This is not meant to spiral out into another episode from them or their fans, but if they aren’t going to be good role models for young impressionable children, I will.

First and foremost, absolutely nothing about the way matt reacted in that video was okay. He is 21 years old, he is a grown adult that pays bills and taxes. He should not be laying his hands on anyone in an aggressive matter, even if they are just brothers. Whether you agree or not, that was abuse. Here is the Oxford dictionary definition of the word abuse, for those of you who need clarification.

Now of course, including content like that in a video is an option. And it was an option that they decided to take. Nick DID NOT have to leave that in the video, and if he hadn’t it wouldn’t have caused so many issues. What gets me the most is that some part of him KNEW it was too much because he edited half of that moment OUT of the video. We saw the extended clip through their photodump that shows just how obnoxiously aggressive Matt’s tantrum was. Not only did he hit Nick (quite hard and in a very vulnerable spot), but he also took a gift that Nick had gotten (gag gift or not, it doesn’t matter) he threw it onto the ground and told him to go and pick it up. The average person knows better than to behave that way, and it was very alarming to see that behavior from someone that we all look up to.

This led to a large divide in the fandom. Some people were (understandably) very uncomfortable with Matt’s behavior. And some people defended it with their lives. Now i’m not saying me and my sisters never fought, but we don’t lay our hands on each other. Idk maybe im out of touch with some new-found sibling abuse agreement or something, but we don’t hit each other. We argue, we get mad at each other, we fight and we make up.

Personally, i don’t think there’s anything wrong with calling out your idols when they do something wrong. At the end of the day, we’re all human and we all make mistakes. It’s easy to forget that when you let fame and money get to your head, making you feel invincible because you know your bandwagon of 13 year olds are going to be at your every beck and call. It’s our job as supporters to remind them that mistakes are okay, but accountability still needs to be taken for actions like that.

When you are in a position where you pay your bills by posting your private life on the internet, you cannot get angry that people are going to have comments and opinions about the stuff that you post on the internet…Nick made a comment in yesterdays video about how people need to mind their own business, but…you…willingly posted…that clip to the internet. For millions of people to see. Nick did not have a gun to his head while editing that video, he did not need to include it but it was a decision that he made.

One reason why i don’t watch them anymore is because they refuse to take accountability for anything that they do. They have also been drawing this out much longer than they needed to. The fanbase would’ve talked about it for a week and forgotten about it with the next friday video. The only reason why it’s still getting attention is because they so badly want to seem ‘unbothered’ by it but they keep bringing it up in everything they do. Matt’s instagram story, his comment on Nick’s recent post, their recent tiktok…literally anything that they have posted in the past week and a half, Matt and Nick just CANNOT HELP THEMSELVES from making a snarky comment. It’s a very icky trait to have imo but i’ll keep my mouth shut on that (since it’s illegal to have opinions in this fandom.)

Personally, I think Mallory was valid in her opinion and responses. Maybe terrifying was a strong word to use, which she has addressed, but it’s not like the boys don’t use hyperboles ALL THE TIME. And nothing about her video was her trying to “cancel the triplets”, she was simply sharing her concerns with Matt’s behavior.

The fanbase LOVESSSS to jump to conclusions. Most of us that had an issue with Matt’s behavior were not trying to cancel them. We’re frustrated because they’re grown adults who refuse to take any constructive criticism or accountability. I’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, the boys dislike ANYONE who is NOT AN ENABLER. Especially Nick. They LOVE an enabler that doesn’t call them out on their crappy behavior.

Back to yesterday’s video, I was VERY unimpressed with their responses. Snarky comment after snarky comment, only proving more and more that they aren’t unbothered by the situation because they’re trying so hard to prove a point. Why not stay silent like you do with everything else? Your ‘friend’ (who you still communicate with but won’t publicly hang out with) who was cancelled for contacting minors? Didn’t have much to say about that did you? But the second something makes them look bad, they jump the gun and go right into defense mode. It’s so funny to me because people would respect them so much more if they just took some accountability, reflected on their actions, and made a change to their behavior.

Including her tiktok in their video was yet another choice they made, and it was a very immature one. You cannot tell me they didn’t think about the outcome of this situation. Singling out ONE PERSON’S VIDEO, putting a target on their back, and opening the gates for these 13-15 year old hellspawn brainwashed sturniolo cult fans to go and cyberbully someone for having an opinion (and a respectful one at that.)

Also trying to blame Chris and saying Matt was ‘provoked’ into hitting Nick???? Chris made a simple comment??? And this is NOT the first time Matt has gone overboard in a reaction he’s had to one of his brothers. He’s had many outbursts, all of which ARE concerning. Throwing things aggressively, hitting, punching, cussing your brothers out on camera…it’s fucking humiliating???? I am so sorry to break it to you all but nothing about that interaction was Chris’s fault AT ALL. So for Nick to pin it on his younger brother, i found it absolutely ridiculous.

And, to sum it up, Nick did not ‘clock her’. I’m sorry but his responses when people call him out always remind me of a middle schooler. He refuses to take any accountability. HE edited the video. HE kept the clip in. HE posted the full clip on their instagram. NICK STURNIOLO DID THAT. HE DID NOT HAVE TO DO THAT.

Can’t wait for reacting to hate comments part 2!!! Because, let’s face it! This isn’t hate, it’s the truth. I’m not an enabler and apparently that makes me a hater.

And yes, they over-do the drama for our entertainment, but they’re so much more entertaining when they’re all getting along?! Even if they have an argument, it’s far more entertaining when they aren’t hitting and kicking and punching. I genuinely think their emphasis on the physical aspects of their videos came straight from the tea party video, because it’s just gotten worse and worse since then.

I haven’t watched them in months and decided to watch that video and it was a clear reminder as to why i don’t watch them anymore. This is not a hate post, i will always be grateful for their videos because they’ve gotten me through some of the darkest moments of my life. From abusive relationships, to losing a loved one to suicide, to the loss of a childhood pet, to losing my job, to trying to take my own life…I am beyond grateful for their videos and I always will be. That being said, i think they have some serious maturing and reflecting to do if they want to continue to grow at the speed they were growing at a year or two ago.

Yes i think Matt is a sweet guy. No i don’t think he meant anything serious by hitting nick. The point is that it does make some of us uncomfortable to see that behavior from a grown man because so many of us have experienced abuse. I’m not saying we’re weak or snowflakes for our responses either. Posting your outbursts on the internet for 6-7 million people to see is a choice, and you cannot expect it to come without consequences.

[lightandheatao3]

The Bunker - Criminal Minds

Chapter 15: The Door

Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up in a locked bunker to find half the current BAU and two of its departed members unconscious on the floor. The old team is back together but the reunion is not what any of them would have wished for. An Unsub from their past has decided it's time they all stop keeping secrets, even if it means exposing them by force.

Hotch and Derek have been pulled back into a world they tried to escape. Emily, Rossi, and JJ are doing their best to keep it together. Spencer is falling apart.

AKA a found family is reunited and forced to go through the most nightmarish version of family therapy imaginable.

Set months after the end of Criminal Minds: Evolution. Evolution referenced, but not necessary to understand the story.

Chapter Summary: Spencer is not looking at the hatch in the door. He isn't thinking about what's inside.

Read chapter 15 on AO3 or under the cut. Please check AO3 for content warnings. All comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated <3 I would love to know what you like about the story :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Spencer's eyes flung open only seconds before the alarm.

The horrible, high-pitched sound assaulted his senses. He squeezed his eyes tight against the light and rushed to cover his ears, wincing as his useless left hand scratched across his cheek.

The last traces of his dreams washed away in the noise. A flash of a needle, a glint in Ethan's eyes, all lost to the ringing in his ears.

It hadn't taken long for the purpose of the new speaker encased in the camera housing to reveal itself.

The single endless day they had been living beneath the fluorescents was now delineated into 24 hour segments, marked by the blaring siren. The concept of days had returned to their lives.

Each day began the same: Alarm, food delivery within 5 minutes, an attempt at reasoning with their jailer through the door which was inevitably met with silence, a spark of hope, a crushing blow, a chip of his willpower carved away.

When he first put the loaded syringe in the hatch, beneath the general feeling that he was utterly pathetic for being in the situation to begin with, a part of him had really thought himself a little bit strong and selfless for the great sacrifice he was making. With each new delivery leaving the narcotics in their place, untouched, he was feeling less noble and more like a stray cat cornered in an alley.

Rossi broke him out of his reverie by shoving a banana into his good hand and saying, "Maybe if you eat today you'll have enough energy to do more than just stare at that fucking door for hours on end. You need a better hobby, kid."

"I ate yesterday," he said defensively, not bothering to dispute the other accusation.

"Try more than two bites this time," said Rossi pointedly.

After breakfast was calisthenics, usually run by JJ or Derek, with the latter taking the lead this time.

JJ's hair was thin and patchy where she had been compulsively pulling it out. The back of her arms and her knees were scabbed from picking at the skin. She told him once years ago that she used to do it as girl, only stopping when she moved out of home. It had been getting worse. Even she was starting to need coaxing to participate in activities.

Spencer stepped to the side while the others continued running laps around the room. He leaned against the wall, panting, his vision swimming.

"Come on! Another 60 seconds," yelled Derek, tapping him on the arm as he ran past him. "Get your ass in gear."

"Absolutely fucking not," he said, groaning against the nausea.

Derek slowed to a stop. The others followed with sighs of relief.

"You have been spending way too much time around Rossi," he said, strolling over and shaking his head.

"Go fuck yourself," said Rossi, flipping Derek off, still panting from exertion.

"See, coming out of him, it sounds natural. 'Fuck' was probably his first word. But you? It's just wrong." Derek put a hand on Spencer's shoulder to stabilize him, as he was swaying somewhat. "You alright?"

"Fine," he said, dizziness abating as he took some deep breaths. "You know, swear words serve more than a linguistic function. Imaging has shown that swearing correlates to increased activity in the amygdala and prefrontal cortex, meaning it has an impact on emotional regulation and impulse control. It's even been shown to have an analgesic effect. Studies have shown that, on average, swearing accounts for 0.5% to 0.7% of total word usage, which can-"

"That number's gotta be like 5% minimum for Rossi," chimed in JJ.

"Did I do something to piss you all off today?" asked Rossi, throwing up his hands incredulously.

Spencer flipped through the last few days (days? the time between alarms) and cataloged every word that came out of Rossi's mouth. Once the list was compiled, the equation was simple.

"Extrapolating from data over the past six days, approximately 1.4% of your total speech is profanity," said Spencer, looking at Rossi. "That is double the median average."

"What can I say? I'm an overachiever," said Rossi, unbothered.

"What percentage are you up to?" JJ asked Spencer.

He repeated the mental process the same as he had for Rossi, freezing as soon as he landed on the unexpectedly high number. It's not as if he had an issue with profanity, but he preferred to be sparing so as not to dilute the impact or precision of his words. Upon reflection, his vocabulary had shrunk somewhat during their confinement. He pursed his lips, then turned to Derek. "I have been spending too much time around Rossi."

That earnes him and Derek both a middle finger.

"I'm going to wash up," said Emily with an affectionate eye roll at all of them, turning to the bathroom and laying first claim on the sink and soap.

The day marched on.

"You're getting better at that," said Hotch, observing his loose, fumbling grip on the little ball their captors had gifted them. "It looks like you're improving."

He sat cross-legged, facing Derek, his back to the door. Physical therapy, the other man called it. A waste of time, thought Spencer, but he played along. Having something constructive and helpful to do each day brought a spark to Derek that he couldn't bear to take away.

The program was cobbled together based on Spencer's anatomy knowledge and Derek's practical understanding of movement based on his own experiences as a young athlete and having recovered from injuries in the past. He was more knowledgeable in the subject than Spencer had realized. The program wouldn't be out of place at an actual physiotherapy clinic.

Unfortunately, the biological reality of a severed nerve could not be rewritten by optimism and force of will. The best case scenario of a surgical repair in the immediate aftermath of the injury would likely still have left him with loss of function.

They were well past the best case. He'd be lucky if he could ever form a proper fist again.

"I'll be back to doing sleight of hand in no time," he said to Hotch with a tight smile.

It was worth it for the hint of pride that flashed across Derek's face.

The rest of the day, they took turns in leading activities. With endless hours to kill, the biggest enemy was boredom, and they fought it valiantly.

Emily had taken to reading a new chapter aloud each day from the trite self-help book on radical honesty that the Unsub had left them. It had some genuinely interesting provocations, but intertwined with oversimplifications and new age schlock. Emily took on the most melodramatic tone she could muster even in the driest, dullest segments.

Spencer had taken to sharing his most recent lecture series for the Advanced Criminal Psychology course at the university. Of course, the others were already highly educated on the topic, so he took the opportunity to invite feedback and spark discussions on theory and interesting case studies.

Rossi, on the other hand, had been breaking up his litany of what JJ liked to call 'sleepover party greatest hits' in favor of increasingly esoteric card games. He presented the progressively more convoluted play alongside far fetched stories of when and where he learned the games, and Spencer was pretty sure he was making up most of it as he went along.

This one he insisted was called Dead Man's Hand and involved a complicated series of bluffs and calls. How one wins the game was as yet unclear, likely because Rossi was still deciding on the rules.

"Reid," said Hotch firmly from across the circle in a tone that indicated he'd said it several times already.

"Huh?"

"It's your turn."

He looked down at the cards clutched in his good hand, then put them on the ground. "I fold."

"Wrong game," said Rossi, raising an eyebrow.

"Yet, I'm doing it anyway."

"You were staring at the door again, man," said Derek lightly.

"I was admiring the architecture," he deadpanned.

He itched all over, deeper than he could possibly scratch. He felt the syringe as if he were connected to it by an umbilical cord.

"I know this sucks," said Derek, "but you've already made it this long. What's one more day? You're str-"

"If I hear one more time that I'm stronger than this, I'm going to f-" he hissed to a stop, suddenly conscious of his excessive cursing. He took a breath. "I'm going to respectfully ask that you keep the facile support group platitudes to yourself."

Derek put his own hand of cards down. "If I acknowledge the drugs, you get mad. If you think I'm avoiding the topic or placating you, you get mad. Is there anything I can say, or not say, that won't piss you off?"

"Probably not," he said petulantly. "Is there anything I can say that will get you to stop treating me like I'm a bomb waiting to go off?"

An invisible ripple spread across the room. The game was forgotten. He hadn't meant to argue, but it bubbled out of him and he didn't know how to make it stop. They were always watching him. Always checking in, commenting on and correcting every errant behavior.

Derek sucked his teeth, jaw clenched. He looked away, then looked back.

"A week ago, we thought you were dead. Sorry it's taking a minute to get over it."

"I know," he said, instantly regretful.

"There's still a stain from where your blood soaked into the concrete," added JJ quietly, a distant look in the direction of the off color patch where the porous concrete couldn't be fully cleaned.

"I know. I know," he said quickly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," said Emily gently. "Nobody is trying to single you out. We're all struggling. Maybe, if we're honest, focusing on you can be a good distraction. God knows I don't want to think about my own issues a single second longer than I have to. Your problems just have the advantage of being harder to ignore."

"That's some very healthy radical honesty you're practicing," joked Rossi. Spencer appreciated his effort to break the tension.

"Shut up," scoffed Emily.

Spencer looked back at the door. After a long while, he said, "How long are we going to do this? It's been six days. They stalked us for at least a year. We can't discount their capacity for patience."

"So we have to be more patient than them," said Emily. "This was your idea."

Malicious compliance was the strategy. They tried following the rules. They tried open defiance. They tried self-destruction. This was an opportunity to do something new. Play her game by the letter, but don't let her win. Wait her out, as long as it takes, until she's forced to change tactics or make a bolder move. Do not, under any circumstances, allow their captors to believe that they can physically coerce them into specific actions.

It was less a plan than a loose tactic, but it was something. Nobody wanted to be gassed again, but they would take that over letting her win the battle of wills.

Which would be fine if it wasn't his rapidly waning willpower that they were depending on.

"There's still the option to just flush it," pointed out Derek.

"No," said Hotch, drawing all eyes to him. "As much as I want to, we all know what's going to happen if we do it. That kind of explicit defiance of an articulated rule will trigger retaliation, and it will be worse than the last time."

"I know you don't want to hear this," said JJ, reaching out to put her hand on his, though he could barely feel her touch, as it was his bad hand, "but you are stronger than this. You have to be."

He held her gaze. She was right: he didn't want to hear it. He wanted them to say 'Give in. Get high. That's a completely logical course of action.'

"I'll be fine," he said firmly. "Absolutely fucking fine."

"Watch the language," deadpanned Rossi.

He laughed despite himself.

His skin itched. His mangled arm was searing with nerve pain. He couldn't help another glance at the hatch.

Maybe he had it in him. For them, surely, he could endure.

He went to pick up the discarded cards, intending to make a concerted effort at the ridiculous, barely coherent game. It would be interrupted any minute by the second daily food delivery anyway. Maybe this would be the one where the Unsubs finally gave up and took the narcotics away, though he didn't have high hopes.

Before he could get to the cards, the world was plunged into darkness.

He froze for a moment, disoriented, struggling to process what he was, or rather wasn't seeing.

The lights were out.

[contradictory-equivalence]

fucking up iz g&&d f&r every&ne i think. then &g&in if &ny&ne's g&nn& &dvertize fucking up it'z me. i c&n't even c&&k @ my &wn hive &nym&re cuz i fucked up upgr&ding my crizpr&nge z& b&d. &nyw&y...

i d&n't kn&w y&ur zitu&ti&n but i'm zure the pe&ple &r&und y&u c&n h&ndle y&u mezzing up & little trying t& figure y&urzelf &ut

& fine. y&u're n&t the w&rzt tr&ll i've ever t&lked 2. c&ngr&tz.

n&t regrubbing th&t but it w&uld zeem r iz zlutting me &ut &z & tech guy &g&in. re&lly c&&l &f y&u r&&nz. h&pe ur spectrum h&ting &zz kn&wz h&w th&t c&uld be zeen.

[andromedasummer]

sudden flashbacks to childhood as i remember the first book series i ever loved, Roman Mysteries. which in retrospect. has a lot. a lot. a LOT of issues

[majimassqueaktoy]

Honestly the funniest thing about Haruka's idol story line in y5 (and dont any of you come at me with the You're Lessening Mirei's Evil Heinous Actions shit, I know she was the antagonist, blah blah) is the fact that as far as traineeships go Haruka's.... wasn't all that unusual- Living on your own away from your parents? Par the course. Having older figures be unduly harsh about your talent/looks? Also par the course. Insane schedules? Creepy fans? Yep. In fact Haruka is older than a lot of people are when they start traineeships nowadays... Like that aspect of the game could have been played up for even more dramatic value than it was.

[kuiinncedes]

aksndbdhdhdhhd

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

WAIT NEVERMIND REBLOGGING THIS ONE BEFORE FINISHING THE SHOW THEY WHAT

Sorry, but having Zuko actually fight back against Ozai during their Agni Kai is just wrong. He was a child, only 13 at the time, afraid to fight his own father and was mutilated as punishment, because Ozai saw Zuko's begging and unwillingness to fight as unforgiveable weakness.

The Angi Kai isn't meant to be a showcase of Zuko's fighting potential (that's what the Zhao fight is for), but to show the utter cruelty of Ozai.

[mimikinyuu]

(ooc post: building lore between my two pkmn irl blogs hehe more to come)

[ellecdc]

Hi!! I love love love your Finnick fics. I saw your requests are open and thought I would try one!

I was thinking reader and Finnick reuniting in either District 13 or after in the capitol when the rebels have taken it over. It could be a separation due to an Annie situation or something different. No worries if this doesn’t sound interesting to you! 🤍

thanks for your request! I absolutely love the district 13 reunion trope, but I had never read one based in the Capitol before so I decided to give that one a try. I hope I did it justice!

Finnick Odair x fem!reader who he will always find [1.5k words]

CW: potentially ooc Finnick BUT I did it on purpose because I think his unyielding loyalty and sense of duty is what ultimately killed him so SUE ME for making him selfish just ONCE 😭, angst with a happy ending

Everything Finnick had endured and smiled through since his own Games back at merely 14 years old had been for the benefit of others. The only thing he has ever done for himself was survive his games; and that was more out of desperation and instinct than it was out of any sense of pride. He dressed for the Capitol, he performed for the Capitol, he sold himself to the Capitol in order to keep his family and loved ones safe, he showed up every year in order to give other children a fighting fucking chance to survive their own games, he agreed to protect the Mockingjay for the rebellion, he sacrificed his oldest and dearest friend for their cause and almost lost another. 

He did his best to make another district feel like home even though his heart had quite literally been ripped away from him, all for the benefit of the cause, and even joined their army. 

Today, Finnick had one thing he needed to do for himself. And anyone who found fault with that could, quite frankly, suck his dick. 

“Finnick?” Katniss asks, looking up from the electronic map on the Holo in front of her. “Were you listening?” 

Finnick watches Gale’s jaw tighten at his lack of attention and fights against an eyeroll of his own. That was yet another thing Finnick had been doing as of late: playing mediator for this godawful love triangle. 

“Uhm, listen,” Finnick starts, looking around at the faces of squad 451, “If I get the chance, I’ll meet back up with the rest of you at the president's mansion, okay?” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Gale starts, standing from his crouched position, prompting Finnick to do the same. “Like hell you’re taking off; the plan was to stick together.”

“The plan was to film propos; that plan has changed, and before I go any further, I have someone I need to find.” 

“Finnick…” Katniss starts, tone dripping with pity as she follows him when he takes a few steps backwards and away from the group. “Wait!”

“I’ve done my waiting, Katniss.”

“You can’t just leave!” She calls, prompting him to turn back towards her.

“You got Peeta back!” He nearly sobs, flinging an arm out towards said boy; slightly worse for wear yet still on his feet. “He’s a little broken but he’s in there, Katniss. And even if he wasn’t, at least you know he’s alive. I need to find my Peeta.”

Katniss lets out a sad sigh; eyes searching his face for any signs of hesitation. Finnick knew she’d find none. “She wasn’t with the others; what if she’s already gone?”

Gone. She meant dead. What if you were already dead?

“I would happily die next to her, Katniss. But I won’t die for a movement that means nothing if she’s not here with me.”

Finnick ignores the heat of tears lining his cheeks as he watches Katniss recall how she very nearly gave up on the entire cause herself when she found out Peeta had been taken by the Capitol from the arena. 

Well, Katniss referred to it as left behind, but Peeta was snatched; you were left behind. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

“Listen, we had little time to react; the moment came upon us faster than anyone anticipated and she was nowhere to be found, Odair. I looked; I searched for her, but Plutarch said we had to go.” Haymitch had explained to him.

“I protected YOUR MOCKINGJAY.” Finnick had screamed. “I protected her at the cost of Mags and Johanna. I protect Katniss, you protect my girl; that was the deal.”

“Finnick-”

“That was the deal, and you LEFT HER BEHIND!?” 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Finnick had gotten violent, and not on purpose. He had to be sedated for three days after that, and they considered doing it again after Peeta was aired by the capitol, but you and Johanna weren’t. He was sedated again after Peeta and Johanna were rescued from the Capitol, but you were not. 

He was officially back in your last known whereabouts. He didn’t know if he’d find you, but he had to look. 

“We…” Finnick starts as he takes a deep breath, wiping the tears from his face before turning his attention back to someone he had come to consider a friend. “We had somewhere…that we would meet. No one else knew of it, it was safe; if she’s here, I just-”

But Katniss simply nods. “You have to try.”

“I have to try.” He parrots.

Katniss’ eyes flicker between Finnick’s before she suddenly embraces him; the act seemingly shocking both Finnick and herself as he tentatively returns the embrace. 

“Be careful.”

Finnick tries to laugh as he pats her on the back before pulling away. “You be careful; you’re the one they’re all after.”

“We’ll see you out there?” She asks as he backs away. 

Finnick nods. “Look out for one another, yeah?” 

With one final wave - Peeta offering a cautious one of his own while everyone else (save Gale) waved back - Finnick began his journey to the last spot he could possibly hope for you to be.

You itched to leave; to look for him. He was here; after all these weeks he was actually here.

You’d managed to take off early on in the chaos and confusion following the arena being blown up; heart breaking yet simultaneously leaping at the sight of Plutarch’s hovercraft taking off without you, knowing they were going to go rescue your boy.

You let that knowledge be enough as you fought to put enough space between you and the peacekeepers tasked with finding you. 

You managed to overtake two of them, slipped into one of their uniforms and stole their weapons before going to the last place you could think that might possibly be safe; the last place you could think that Finnick might possibly find you. 

The radios you’d pilfered from the peacekeepers alerted you to rebel presence a few days ago, and it was later confirmed that a team including three victors - the Mockingjay, Peeta, and Finnick - were here. 

Here. 

You paced a hole in the floor as you considered your options. The city was large, dangerous, and you’d have to stay hidden; if he saw what appeared to be a peacekeeper approaching him, he’d have to kill you. 

But you could be sitting here indefinitely if you simply waited for him. What if he was in danger? What if he needed you? What if you could help?

Your spiralling was interrupted by a quiet knock on the makeshift door. 

There was a reasonable - perhaps hopeful - part of you that knew if it was a peacekeeper or other rebel forces, they wouldn’t have bothered knocking or alerting you to their presence. 

But years of violence and conflict found you pulling the neckguard of your stolen uniform over your mouth and nose - leaving your eyes and hair exposed - as you moved in the direction of the door with your weapon raised. 

Before you have a moment to react, the door swings open quickly and you are face to face - or, rather, gun to gun - with the love of your life. 

“Finnick?” You whisper, keeping your gun raised as Finnick lowers his own and looks at you with an expression mixed with grief and unadulterated relief. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” He lets out with a soft sob, and your gun falls to the ground with a clatter as you throw yourself at him. 

He catches you; of course he catches you. 

“I can’t believe you’re here.” You nearly sob as he lowers the two of you to the ground; overwhelmed with emotions, his legs give out on him as he keeps you pressed tight against his torso. “I can’t believe it. Oh my god.”

You’re nearly keening as you alternate between pressing as many kisses to Finnick’s lips, cheeks, jaw, head - anything you can get your lips on, really - sobbing, and nearly strangling him with the desperation of your embrace. 

“I found you, I found you” Finnick chants like a prayer. “I can’t believe I found you. Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You’re quickly shaking your head as you take hold of his face between your hands. “You don’t have to be sorry; you did exactly what you were supposed to.”

“They left you behind.” He cries. 

“They saved you.” 

He shakes his head but doesn’t argue, simply lowering his forehead to yours as his hands trail up and over your arms, sliding up your neck and then back down again as though he can’t help but touch every single part of you. 

“I can’t believe you’re here.” You repeat again. “I can’t believe you found me.”

“I will always find you.” He insists, pulling your face from where you try shoving it into his neck only to hold it in front of him as he stares at you imploringly. “Do you hear me? I will always find you. I will always find you.” 

“I know, Finn.” You agree. “I know you will.”

[crosbyism]

"but then again this is the guy who’s publically known for loving to eat ass so"

I'm sorry, I thought Nate eating ass was fanon. Are you telling me this is an actual canon fact??

god i love when people don’t realise how much “fanon” around sid and nate is actually canon. it’s like heroin to me. also bc it’s like. 90% of the stuff in fics (which is probably why people assume it’s fanon but. oh boy it’s not. there’s shockingly little fanon around these two, mostly because canon is so abundant).

yes, nathan mackinnon is a known ass-eater. let me direct you to this post, anon. you’re welcome.

other nate (and sid) facts you might not have realised are canon:

nate is a known advocate for therapy. he’s been seeing a sports therapist since 2017

they wear matching clothing all the fucking time, sid has said publicly that he started wearing white sneakers and updated his wardrobe due to nate’s influence (iirc nate might’ve even bought him his first pair of white sneakers? either that or it was a “he told me i need to so i did” situation). they share a tailor. unfortunately i now have to bring your attention to the fact that since they have an alarming amount of matching clothes that they’ve bought for each other, that means that they in fact have to know each other’s clothing sizes off by heart. they also low-key share clothing btw

their families celebrate canada day together and their dads are best friends. in-law behaviour goes crazy

nate did in fact stalk his way into sid’s heart (got the same personal trainer and agent at age 13; built his house next door in 2017; they’ve been spending every day in the summers together since at least 2015. sid cooks for them daily, or at least did pre-pandemic. sid refuses to use nate’s gym tho so they always use sid’s).

nate used to have a fan twitter account more or less where he rooted for the pens. it was active until 2017.

sid and nate regularly go to summer weddings together as each other’s dates. they have done this since, once again, at least 2015

nate has confirmed that he used to have a poster of sid on his wall as a teenager (he didn’t confirm he used to jerk off to it but frankly. i think that’d be saying the quiet part out loud)

when sid won the cup in 2009 and held the parade in cole harbour, nate stood by the side of the road watching it. he was about to turn 14, he was already working with sid’s trainer and agent, and he was about to start attending shattuck (sid’s junior high). due to old pics we also know that this was RIGHT before nate had his first growth spurt and hit puberty. i’m not saying seeing sid with the cup kickstarted nate’s puberty and gave him his first boner but i’m not NOT saying it

nate dated vanessa morgan of riverdale fame in his rookie year. she’s now good friends with elias petersson from the vancouver canucks (this means nothing but i do think it’s a very funny coincidence).

nate schmidt, formerly of the VGK, once failed a drug test (it turned out to be a testing-fuck-up); when nhl players were asked about it natemack iconically said “i don’t think he was sticking a needle up his ass” (i just like this one)

when he was a kid, the one other thing sid wanted to be was a hairdresser. nate, on the other hand, “didn’t have a plan B”

nate is canonically possessive of sid (see: the asg 2024) and sid is canonically delighted by this and into it

they go on so many lunch dates in the summer my dude. they go grocery shopping together. like there’s so many pics of them in grocery stores or out having coffee or weird green shakes

oh i almost forgot, they went on a roadtrip through ireland last year. they’ve been on holiday together multiple times over the years though. done some eurotripping together and stuff. in 2015 they spent three months together, three weeks of which were spent living in sid’s santa monica condo together just the two of them

sid has put up a picture of every stanley cup winning captain in his basement since 2008, when the pens lost in the scf to DET. apparently this serves as motivation for him to win the cup. he notoriously does not watch the playoffs after the pens are out

however, he partied so hard at nate’s cup party he actually closed down the party with his dad. nate is the only non-teammate sid’s ever been seen supporting for a cup run (he’s also never been to his teammates’ cup parties afaik so. there’s that)

also they talked on the phone daily and between periods during nate’s cup run. they also canonically have almost weekly phone dates that can run multiple hours. quote nate “i can’t talk to anyone else the way i can talk to him”

they each have pictures of the two of them together framed in each other’s houses

there’s rumours they’re building adjoining houses on neighbouring properties in cape breton next to a golf course bc apparently being neighbours in halifax isn’t enough or something. this one is as yet unconfirmed by reputable sources though

[thegayestdiaz]

just woke up and i’m still so fucking mad that the diaz parents just swooped in and interfered with the situation the way they did because it’s so clear they do not give a fuck about eddie’s emotional and mental state and only about getting chris because why would you not even facilitate a conversation between this hurt child and his heartbroken father? why would you just agree to a 13 year old’s request to move states without even consulting his parent? yes chris needs space and he gets to dictate how that looks but the fact that not one attempt was made to help eddie—their actual child—deal with the situation the way grandparents should says so much about their actual intentions here. and why on god would chris call his grandparents instead of pepa or isabel when he’s been closer to them for years? fuck ass storyline really

[mythicmanuscripts]

"Cause yeah sure he lost his virginity to that brothel worker (which, by the way, I have many many thoughts on this because I am convinced this completely fucked him up for years afterwards)"

*Clears throat* Excuse me, ma'am. I'm gonna NEED you to tell me more about this 🙏🏻

Alright everyone strap in, I guess we are riding the angst train tonight. Honestly I have so many thoughts and feelings about this and part one of me thinks we should have a whole series dedicated just to Aemond’s recovery from that. You know what? It’s a tag now. ‘Aemond’s recovery’ is gonna the tag I use for discussions around this cause I think we all have thoughts and feelings on it.

Anyway, while the content of this answer isn’t explicit, there are definitely sexual undertones and implied sexual situations as well as discussions of assault and mental health so if you’re good with all of that, then venture out beyond the cut!

So I think the first thing to understand is that Aemond is very private and pretty closed off in general. Growing up he of course was taught about sex, and about the double standard between how women have to be virgins and men do not.

As much as the thought of sex made him feel uneasy because the act itself seems so… exposed, he was comforted by the fact that sex is supposed to take place within a marriage. He knows he will have an arranged marriage when he’s older, and he comforts himself by thinking that when he does have sex, it’ll be with his wife, in the comfort of their own bedroom. He imagines the comfortable bed, the candles glowing on the nightstand and the door locked shut to prevent anyone else from seeing him like that.

And then… well then he turns 13 and Aegon decides that’s old enough and all but shoves him against a brothel worker.

He’s confused, he’s uncomfortable. The room is far too bright, he can see everything, and he knows she can see him. The bed is sparse, clearly only used for sex and never for sleep. And the brothel worker… she keeps on touching him? Her hands are all over him and he doesn’t even know how but suddenly he’s naked and her hands are tracing his scar and he’s so so exposed.

He hates it, he hates every minute of it. He’s thankful he didn’t last long because he didn’t want to stay there any longer than necessary.

He had heard the tales from Aegon about how good it feels, and how often Aegon disappears to the brothels so that he can have more than just his wife. Aemond never understand what he meant and now that he had lain with that brothel worker, he still doesn’t get it. Yes it did feel good, but it felt as good as using his hand and when he uses his hand, he’s in his own room with the door locked, he’s safe there. 

In the brothel, people kept on walking in. They were mostly just looking for an empty room but almost all of them paused their search to watch him and the madam for a few seconds before leaving.

Seeing them do that made him blush a deep red and the madam made a big fuss of how sweet and soft he is and chuckling as his embarrassment. Only he wasn’t feeling embarrassed, he was mortified. All those people had seen him like that, had seen him naked and exposed and they had laughed and watched, and very clearly were into it.

They were getting off to something that was supposed to be private and secure and… and honourable. There is nothing honourable about what the madam does to him.

By the time he walks out of the brothel he feels like he’s been scraped raw, like his very soul is sunburnt.

He never goes back, never even considers it. He hated that raw, exposed feeling and he never wanted it again, ever.

And then a few years later his mother introduces him to his future bride. He’s already dreading their wedding night, being plagued by dreams of the harshly lit brothel room.

But then his future wife seems so good? She asks before she can touch him, even the smallest of touches. When her hands are on him, she’s gentle and caring and… and protective?

They’re sitting in the library a few nights before the wedding when Aegon and his drunken mates come barrelling through. They taught Aemond, asking if he knows what to do on his wedding night.

Aemond stays silent while that awful raw feeling starts to rear its head. And then, then he hears your voice. You tell off Aegon and his mates, telling Aegon that he doesn’t get to talk about a husband pleasing their wife when he goes out drinking every night and leaves his own wife to an empty bed.

That shuts him up, and pretty quickly him and all his friends leave the library with their tails between their legs. Aemond, meanwhile, feels incredible. You not only just stood up for him, but you defended the sanctity of their soon to be marriage. Aemond doesn’t feel as exposed anymore.

He begins to wonder if perhaps the wedding night won’t he so bad after all.

[atopvisenyashill]

Is Lyanna really as terrible as some people portray her as?

no, not even a little bit.

the absolute most important thing about lyanna is that when she dies she is only 16. i am someone who works with kids - i work in a library so i spend most of my days cleaning up after tweens and asking teenagers to please stop doing dumb shit- and the first thing anyone who has ever worked with kids and especially teenagers is that they may look like adults but they are NOT. they don’t understand boundaries, they have next to zero impulse control, and every bad thing that happens feels like the worst thing ever because it very likely IS the worst thing they’ve ever experienced bc they have not been alive that long!

and this goes for every single teen & tween character in this series, not just lyanna! shit, i am someone who feels an immense amount of sympathy for joffrey! on one side he’s got his mother telling him he can do anything he wants with no repercussions and on the other he’s got his father hitting him so hard that stannis thought joffrey was going to die. and then he is given unchecked power and told not to abuse it! EYE cannot even guarantee that i wouldn’t use unchecked power to do shady shit and i am a fully grown adult, not a traumatized, irrationally, and deeply vindictive 13 year old boy.

but honestly the most important thing about lyanna is that we have ZERO CONTEXT for what happens between her and Rhaegar. What we have is

Ned’s sparse & guilt ridden thoughts about Lyanna and one (1) comment about Rhaegar

Robert’s angry, entitled, and grief ridden outbursts about Lyanna and Rhaegar

Barristan’s incredibly romanticized, guilt & grief ridden take on their relationship

Meera’s second hand account of Lyanna, told to her by a father who is likely just as guilt & grief ridden as the others, who likely has his own view of Lyanna

What’s important to note is that our view of her is heavily filtered through the eyes of the men that knew her. Robert loves an idealized version of her that never existed. Barristan never actually knew her. Ned is not only viewing her under 200 layers of guilt and grief, but very obviously does not understand his sister, or why she made the choices she did, and struggles constantly with knowing that he will never know her the way he wishes he could, the way he thought he did. Given the way Meera describes Lyanna, I actually think Howland is our most accurate look at her but even that is buried behind years of grief & a fair amount of hero worship and affection (“that’s my fathers man you’re kicking howled the she-wolf” is a line that makes me WEEP for this exact reason; Howland sees Lyanna as his hero above all else!).

All of that to say - we don't even know what Lyanna did that was so terrible! Even if she was a grown woman capable of making rational decisions, we have no idea what her decisions were. She could have been lied to, misled, kidnapped, threatened, just as surely as she could have walked into the situation with open eyes. Even in the show, with a slightly aged up Lyanna - we get, what, just Sam's opinion on Rhaegar and Lyanna being in love because they got hitched? Completely ignoring the fact that we had several women in this series get married not because they were in love or willing but because someone more powerful decided on it and that was that, so there's still no evidence that Lyanna had enough information about the situation to make any sort of informed, consensual decision.

so no, i do not hold lyanna responsible for anything at all that happened regardless of how it happened because she was not mentally mature enough to understand what the hell was going on. a 15 year old is just not mature enough to think “if i run off with this married man, it’s going to cause a cascade of political issues that could have disastrous consequences.” what she’s probably thinking is “this man says he can help me and i am fucking miserable and no one else will listen.” it’s why we don’t throw 15 year olds who run away to meet up with old dudes they met online in jail when they’re caught (or theoretically why we don’t punish them at any rate). There is one person and one person only who is responsible for the massive fuck up that is the Elia-Rhaenys-Aegon-Lyanna-Jon mess and that is RHAEGAR, the person with the most amount of power who used it in the dumbest way imaginable and got himself, most of his heirs, his wife, and his teenaged mistress killed. The only other people responsible are the Kingsguard who kept Lyanna under lock and key while she lay dying and pleading for her brother to come save her.

[suzukiblu]

Tim?

Tim did not actually mean to kidnap an alternate reality's version of Kon.

In his defense, he'd had very limited time in that reality and everything in it had been going to shit and . . . well, everything in it had been going to shit.

Also, Lex Luthor had been a lot more heavily involved in that particular reality's Cadmus, and fuck it if Tim was ever going to leave any version of Kon with that bastard.

With any bastard who could ever look at Kon and call him "it".

"Ow," Tim grunts into the dirty pavement of what he hopes is his own Gotham as blood drips out of his mouth, and feels Kon's fingertips brush very, very tentatively against his back. He's a little too dizzy to lift his head, but he figures it doesn't matter. Like it's just . . . it's fine. They're not in Cadmus and Kon is safe and Tim is . . . conscious, at least, which means he can work with the situation.

Whatever the situation actually is, anyway.

Kon's hands flatten against his back, which is a very familiar tell, and Tim immediately feels the even more familiar embrace of TTK wrapping him up.

Less familiar is the impulse to find said embrace adorable, but in Tim's defense, this Kon is physiologically about ten years old and so far every single thing he's done has been either adorable or heartbreaking or some terrible combination of the two.

"Robin?" Kon asks anxiously. "You're okay, right?"

"M'okay," Tim mumbles blurrily, because it's more or less true. More blood drips out of his mouth and splatters on the pavement. "All okay. S'fine. You hurt?"

"No," Kon says, still sounding nervous. "Dunno where we are, though."

"Should be Gotham," Tim says, forcing himself to lift his head enough to check and nearly laughing as he recognizes their surroundings as the exact part of Crime Alley that he got interdimensionally yanked out of seventy-six hours ago. "Yeah. Gotham."

He pushes himself up enough to look over at Kon. Kon looks very small crouched down next to him with buzzed-down hair, barefoot in pristine white lab scrubs with a shiny metal cuff stamped with an identification number locked around his wrist. "13" features prominently on it.

Tim wants to melt it into slag.

"Is it your Gotham?" Kon asks.

"No clue, but I'm hoping," Tim says. He thinks about getting to his feet but he's pretty sure he'd throw up if he tried. Or fall over. Or both?

Probably both, at this point.

Oh well, he figures, and pushes himself up. He doesn't vomit, surprisingly, although he is very definitely sure that Kon's TTK is the only thing keeping him from falling over.

No reason to look that particular gift horse in the mouth, Tim decides.

"I need coffee," he says as he gives Kon's shoulder an appreciative pat, because the caffeine withdrawal is real. Also he needs medical attention, probably, but also-also he needs to come up with either a cover story for the ER or an explanation for Bruce and therefore caffeine can't hurt.

"Uh, okay," Kon says skeptically. "I don't think Starbucks or anything is gonna be open right now, though, it's pretty late."

"God, what did Cadmus teach you, kid," Tim says despairingly, making a face at the thought. "Starbucks is a punishment from God. We're going to the nearest twenty-four diner and I'm ordering roofing tar. And we're getting you a hot chocolate. Do you want a hot chocolate?"

". . . yeah," Kon says, biting his lip. "Um. I mean, I dunno if I'd like it, though."

"If you don't like it, we'll get you something else," Tim says. "But I haven't slept or eaten properly since I left my reality and I need coffee before it becomes a legitimate medical emergency."

"Shouldn't you get, like, real food, then?" Kon asks skeptically. "Not just coffee?"

"Coffee is food," Tim lies reflexively.

". . . I don't think it is," Kon says, squinting up at him suspiciously. "Are you taking advantage of me being too stupid to know if coffee's food or not?"

". . . we can get something to go," Tim says, wishing he'd blown up a bit more of Cadmus on his way out of that fucking cesspool of a reality. "You're not stupid. Luthor can choke on a fucking cactus for all the shit he kept saying to you."

"I mean, I didn't come out right," Kon says uncomfortably. "I'm not as smart as Dadd–as Lex is. Or as Superman was."

Tim pretends that Kon wasn't about to say "Daddy" for both their sakes. Just . . . yeah. At least for the moment, anyway.

Luthor was a lot more heavily involved in that Cadmus.

And horrifyingly.

Tim tries not to think about the way that Luthor had kept touching Kon. All the little too-deliberate points of contact he'd made time and again and too often.

Much too often.

Tim hadn't seen anyone else even so much as enter Kon's personal space the entire time he'd been in that godforsaken lab, and every single time that Luthor had made a gesture like he might touch him, Kon had tensed in something that couldn't decide between being fear or anticipation.

It'd made Tim want to burn the whole fucking lab and every single LexCorp-owned building he could find to the ground.

He'd settled for interdimensionally kidnapping Kon and destroying all of Cadmus's systems and DNA samples as thoroughly as possible. C-4 had been involved.

A lot of C-4 had been involved.

Possibly that had been a slight overreaction, but fuck if Tim cares. Just–Clark had still been dead, and Cassie hadn't had powers and Bart hadn't been in the time period and Tim himself hadn't even existed, for whatever reason, and apparently neither had Cissie or Greta or Anita or Slobo, and Bruce had already had his hands full with Damian and Dick had been off-planet and Jason had also still been dead and just–

Options had been limited, alright?

Options had been limited, and by that point Tim hadn't had time to go check and see what the Kents were up to or track down Lois Lane or Jimmy Olsen or even just tip off the Justice League or the Titans, because by that point he'd been in an examination room with a Lex Luthor who was stroking a frightened Kon's face with one hand while holding a syringe that was glowing kryptonite-green with the other and Tim had just . . . he'd just made some choices at that point, okay?

He'd made some very decisive choices.

And some very decisive commitments.

Or at least one very decisive commitment, anyway.

[brights-place]

Can we please have more Miles morales 42 with little sister reader ? (13 years old) Maybe some angsty headcanons where instead of his dad dying, his sister is the one who actually dies in his universe ?

[ATSV] Miles 42! & Dead! Reader Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT, Death

A/N: OMG WAIT THATS AWESOME ANGST FUCK YEAH

Summary: Miles 42 is sister died instead of his dad... but oho I got something better both of them dying sorry it might be short I have one more day then im free from school and im on summer holidays Sorry its REALLY SHORTTT

Miles stared eyes shaky he never understood people when they said their world went quiet... but now he does. he understood now that he didn't have the familiar voice of his younger sister running around annoying him, pestering him, bothering her older brother to eat with her when he wouldn't leave his room he understood now that there was nothing to fill his world with. Rio frowned at miles who was staring at the coffins of not only his father but of the young girl beside him in a separate coffin with a bouquet of favorite flowers. When Rio and Miles heard that when You and Jeff were in the situation you wouldn't stop crying gripping onto your dad hugging him as he protected you from the particular explosion that caused your deaths from trying not only to protect the city but for his family most of all his daughter and son. The burnt scars on your body your face pale and dull eyes shut with makeup that complimented your face even though your older brother said you always looked like shit he felt shitter when he couldn't have complimented you before you died. Rio was beside him holding miles close as she stared at Jeff's corpse then yours. One thing known was that what was one of the worst things to see was a grieving mother and miles knew you would never live it down even in the after life if he didn't let rio cry with him or he didn't even cry at all since you always told him off to be able to express himself. Rio saw miles gripping the coffin edges with a blank face yet his eyes had a familiar glisten in his eyes "Come on miles... lets say goodbye okay?" she whispered an hand on his shoulder as Miles spoke "whats the point-" "Miles" Miles kept quiet staring at the faces of his dad and his younger sister "Sometimes we say goodbye because the next hello will never come in this lifetime so.. let's-" her voice started going shaky as Miles spoke "Okay" as they both bid their farewells at the coffins as Rio couldn't help but break down a couple minutes later when burying them as Miles had to try console his mother the best way he could as uncle aaron helped rio up and lend a shoulder.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2024 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[aropride]

ok story before bed time. everyone gather around

you are me at age 13. you are an 8th grader who just realized he likes girls and recently had a gender crisis in the home depot lighting aisle. it is november of 2016, and trump has run for president for the first time. you are watching the map change over your dad's shoulder. you aren't really sure how it works yet but you are seeing a lot of red on there and you are very frightened. you just found out you have free will, like, last year, and you are only beginning to grasp the gravity of the situation- the situation being the united states of america in general- and it already is looking very bad.

when you wake up in the morning your dad tells you trump has won. he's too happy about it. you're skipping breakfast to make the bus in time. the sun's barely risen, btw, but you are 13 so you have little to no autonomy or rights, so you are in the fluorescent-light torment-nexus they call a "middle school" by 7:45am on the dot.

you see your friend as you're walking to your homeroom. he's a fellow gay emo middle schooler, he sucks, and he really likes to guilt-trip you into skipping class to hang out with him by telling you he's going to kill himself if you don't. you have other qualms with him, but this illustrates enough. he says hi, you say hi, there is a sort of thick dread in the air despite barely anyone in the building being old enough to vote and most everyone completely baffled by the concept of the "electoral college."

he asks how you're feeling. you say bad, and he agrees.

he looks you in the eyes and puts both his hands on your shoulders. he says, "don't worry about gay marriage. they can't get rid of it."

you don't say anything; he doesn't give you a chance to.

"i ran into the senate at subway yesterday and i asked them. and they said trump can't repeal gay marriage."

you do not know much about the government. you are not quite sure what a senator is. however, you know there are one hundred of them. you also know that the only subway in your little corner of maine is very small- there's, like, three booths to sit in. only a few people can even get in line to order at a time. you were born recently but you are able to draw some conclusions here:

1) there is absolutely no way that subway could fit 100 people inside of it at all,

2) there is no reason that the entire senate would be in a little town in maine the night after the election,

and 3) this guy is making shit up again, more than anyone's ever made shit up in their life.

you say, "okay. that's good." you are aware that gay marriage is not the only thing to be worried about, here. you are aware that this guy lies recreationally and it is not worth arguing the matter.

"isn't that great?" he asks. it is not great.

you go to homeroom and you do not stand for the pledge of allegiance (you never stand for it again). you go to pre-algebra. you listen to my chemical romance instead of paying attention. you go to english class, you go to study hall, you go to lunch. you go to social studies and your teacher lets you and your other gay friend (who doesn't suck and in fact you have crush-adjacent feelings for them) sit out in the hall to talk about the election, because you asked nicely. they do not try to tell you that they ran into the entire senate at subway.

you think about this interaction several times a month through the next two election seasons. you are a 21 year old man and you are still thinking about this. you are still imagining ways the entire senate could cram themselves into this tiny subway. you regularly share this story with new friends because you just cannot stop fucking thinking about it. he ran into the entire senate at a tiny little subway in maine at 7 in the morning. and they said gay rights were safe forever.