#if i have something that has better treatment than the absolute Jack Shit there is for fibromyalgia

[thewingedwolf]

sometimes i get suspicious that i actually have MS and not fibromyalgia but i don’t want to go back to the doctor to get yelled at about how i’m lazy and want attention and “just do another year of physical therapy” until i finally land on a doctor who takes me seriously and does some tests. like it’s not even i don’t have the money, it’s that i’m at a point where if i feel a doctor isn’t taking me seriously i don’t even fight them i just start crying bc i’m so over it all aksjdjdjdn

[soullessjack]

so one of my other problems with babyjack is that the fandom just seems to have this sort of collective cognitive dissonance about it, in almost any context or discussion. like this post as probably my only standing example (bc it’s the only one to have gotten traction), there are all these tags about how babyjack leads to bad dean criticism, or how it’s nice in aus but they want canon complex jack, and like I’m not entirely disagreeing with that, but it is so fucking frustrating that people are still ignoring the actual problem with it and either only focusing on the most surface level issues that personally affect them or their corner of the fandom, or making up some point of acceptability for it that frankly isn’t theirs to make.

it’s the autistic experience of our struggles never being seen or cared about until they become other people’s inconveniences, and our voices being used to say something else entirely. when the main takeaway of that post is how the fandom’s treatment of jack being in a way he’s explicitly shown to hate being treated directly mirrors autistic people’s struggle for autonomy in the real world, I really do not need you to make it about how it makes your golden website boy dean look like a big meanie pants, okay? that’s definitely a part of it, but it’s not at all what we are talking about, and it 100% should not be the only reason you care.

and especially when the other takeaway is how this is just a smaller scale issue that comes from autistic infantilization, the absolute last take I want to hear is that you find that infantilization acceptable as long it’s an AU or something else separated from canon. believe me, I’m beyond glad more people actually prefer canon complex jack—like, I don’t think you guys understand that that is legitimately a rarity to find here— but the thing about babyjack is that the concept itself is inherently ableist, and directly relies on his complexities (and the representation he means for us) being removed and erased so that he can even exist in the context of those AU’s. It feels very… ‘have your cake and eat it too’ to me.

I’m trying not to sound angry or accusatory, but I am also tired of having to force civility on a problem that’s pretty much just an open secret thar everyone collectively ignores and beats bushes around solely because they prioritize #domesticdestiel over all. I mean, do you guys even hear yourselves sometimes? Like half of it just boils down to “Autistic infantilization is always bad, except for this one context where it makes my ship look domestic and redeems my blorbo,” and it’s getting really fucking annoying to have to constantly explain something that is not only painfully easy to understand, but is understood and actively ignored, and still play nice so that somebody out there might listen.

So many people will say they like canon Jack and want more of him from the fandom, and I more than agree, but motherfucker you have a blog! You have the tools! Be the change you want to see! He doesn’t have to be your fav or your blog thesis blorbo, but if you want it, you are literally fully equipped to make it! Write some meta, draw some fanart, whatever. Better yet, you could even stop engaging with and perpetuating content that actively pushes down on what you want and, I must reiterate, is actively harmful and ableist. If you want domestic silliness go right ahead, but you don’t need to resort to ableism to do it.

I don’t think I’m asking too much or asking rudely, and frankly I don’t even think I owe niceties to anyone when it’s a problem that has been openly ignored for 6 years and holds plenty of bearing in the real world concerning my identity and community and shit we face constantly. Outside of our screens, we are constantly fighting for autonomy and recognition and representation, and even to be seen as people. Online spaces, especially fandom spaces, are a huge source of escapism and support that we wouldn’t get otherwise. So for the love of god, please stop bringing that fight here.

[kakitysax]

Anyway that said I like John Seward. I’ve seen some analyses of his character and they got me thinking.

His asylum is actually really humane for the time, and he views Renfield more as an equal than he’s supposed to in their dynamic. I don’t think anyone else would have let him keep the flies, or the spiders, or the birds. And I don’t think it was normal at the time to view delusions as having logic, or to try to understand what’s happening in his patients’ heads instead of just assuming the worst and containing him.

Also, I relate to the guy. I think he’s autism-coded, at least to the extent that people like us were viewed at the time. His proposal scene was just. Intensely relatable. It’s absolutely shitty and inexcusable how the guy takes out his issues on his patients, but he’s working in a system where that shit is wayyy too easy, and I think it’s the rare person that WON’T abuse power when it’s given to them.

I was in a similar situation as him this past year. I worked at an elementary school: a system essentially designed to contain children under the guise of helping them. And there’s a lot of good people there doing their best to ACTUALLY help, but it’s a bad system, and even good people have bad days, and it’s really easy to get away with yelling at a kid. It’s almost expected; it’s almost the point.

I went there because I was fascinated by kids, but the longer I stayed the more I learned about myself. I viewed the kids as equals, because the level of power I had over them made me feel safe enough to interact with them normally. Meanwhile I was terrified of the teachers and staff who were “supposed” to be my peers. I did my best to listen to the kids and answer their “stupid” questions and talk them through their feelings even when the teachers were running out of patience, but on my personal bad days it was hard not to snap at a kid who was giving me a hard time.

I thought I went into childcare because kids fascinated me, but realized somewhere along the line that the reason I was really there is because I still feel like a child. Someone helpless, who needs to be kept in a controlled environment and given love and care and told what to do. And I treated them the way I hoped to be treated.

Jack Seward is fascinated by psychology. He views Renfield as an equal despite (and maybe as a result of) having power over him. But he’s reluctant to spend time with his supposed peers, and was clearly terrified all through his proposal to Lucy. He is trying to understand Renfield, but when he’s at his worst it’s too easy for him to take his feelings out on someone who, like a child, is a societally designated target for subhuman social treatment.

And I wonder if, in the same way that I feel like a child, Dr. Seward feels like he is a “lunatic?”

I know that’s a GROSSLY outdated term, but its connotation is important here. “Neurodivergence” is something that’s understood and becoming more widely accepted. Between Dracula and today we’ve made great strides in the field of mental health. We know what schizophrenia is now, along with mood disorders, personality disorders, dissociative disorders, adhd, autism, (and probably more that I’m forgetting,) and have found a deeper understanding and better treatment for them.

Dr. Seward would not view Renfield, or by proxy himself, as “neurodivergent,” but “lunatic.” Someone dangerous, to be contained and quarantined from normal society and studied. Someone to fear. And I think there’s an extent to which he is treating Renfield the way he would hope to be treated.

So yeah. I won’t say the guy did nothing wrong because he very clearly has. But everyone does shitty things, and I kind of relate to the guy. I totally forget like 90% of this book but I can’t wait to see where his character goes.

[storiesforallfandoms]

inspirational ~ corpse husband

word count: 1589

request?: yes!

“Hi! I was wondering if you could do a corpse husband imagine where the reader has a feeding tube? If you can’t that’s perfectly fine, I just haven’t been able to find one yet.”

description: in which the group plays with a popular streamer that has a feeding tube and corpse tells her how much she inspires him

pairing: corpse x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of chronic pain and cancer, also i only know a little bit about feedings tubes, i tried to do research in order to make myself more familiar but if there’s a lot of inaccuracies or anything i am very sorry i’m gonna try my best

masterlist (one, two)

Corpse listened to his friends shouting at one another to accuse each other of being sus. As usual, there was no use in trying to get a word in. Corpse spoke so softly that no one would even hear him unless they wanted to hear what he was saying.

“(Y/N)!” Toast suddenly exclaimed. “You’re being very quiet right now.”

“Because my damn tube is mixed up in my headphone wires!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sounding like she was far away from her mic. The group chuckled and continued with their conversation about who they thought the imposter was.

(Y/N) was a known Twitch streamer and YouTuber that rose to popularity when she started a series on her YouTube channel to show her journey through cancer treatments. Long before his own sudden boom in popularity, Corpse had watched all of her videos and became invested in her Twitch streams as well. Being someone who also struggled with chronic illness and pain, Corpse felt a sense of hope watching (Y/N) go through her treatment and still seem to optimistic in life and so productive in her YouTube and Twitch channels.

When Toast messaged the Amigops group to ask if anyone wanted to join his Among Us lobby with (Y/N), Corpse jumped at the chance. He hadn’t had much time to speak with her alone, but he was hoping to be able to tell her how much watching her content lifted him up during his worst times.

The meeting ended with no one being voted and brought them back to the office of the Polus map. Since they were playing with proximity chat, the argument from the meeting immediately continued with Rae and Toast warning everyone to stay away from Sean, who they were susing at the second imposter after already voting out Charlie.

Corpse watched (Y/N)’s pink astronaut run out of the office, silent amongst the chaos. He waited a moment before deciding to follow her, hoping he could meet her somewhere alone so he could talk to her.

He ran into O2 and noticed a pink bean in the boiler room stood by the water wheels. He ran in and stood in the doorway a moment before speaking.

“Hello (Y/N).”

“Ah fuck!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “Corpse! Don’t scare me like that!”

Corpse chuckled. “Sorry, I’ll warn you next time.”

“Are you here to kill me?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m okay with that. I feel like being killed by Corpse Husband in Among Us is like a rite of passage at this point.”

Corpse slowly approached (Y/N) to which she quickly ran away from him to the other water wheel. He laughed again before assuring her, “I’m not an imposter, you can trust me.”

“I don’t think I can, but I will choose to trust,” she told him.

“I actually came looking for you because I wanted to talk to you.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

There were so many things running through Corpse’s mind. He just wanted to blurt out everything he had thought about (Y/N) and her story, to thank her for giving him hope, to tell her what an inspiration she was. But his words caught in his throat and he struggled to get anything out.

Finally, he said, “What’s it like trying to be a streamer with your...with the um...”

“The feeding tube?” (Y/N) finished for him. “You can say it, Corpse. It’s not exactly a secret.”

He sighed, glad that she had a joking tone about it. “Yeah, with the feeding tube.”

“It’s annoying,” (Y/N) admitted. “Like...I’m assuming you’ve seen my streams or my videos but for the sake of anyone watching your stream who hasn’t: I have a nasogastric feeding tube, or an NG-tube, which is a feeding tube that goes in through the nose. As cliché as it is, just picture Hazel Grace from the Fault in our Stars. Additional cliché, I have it because I had cancer and the treatments left me so malnourished that I need a feeding tube even after I’ve gone into remission. So, because it’s tubes that are connected in my nose, I keep getting my headphone wires tangled in my tube or, very rarely, my mic wires, and it’s fucking annoying. It hurts like a bitch when I go to stand up and I yank the wires  by accident or something.”

“Does...does anything else hurt? Because of the cancer or the treatment or anything?”

“Not as much as it used to. I went into remission like nearly a year ago, so I’m doing better. It’s a process, but it’s had an amazing outcome in the end so I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I find you really inspirational,” Corpse finally blurted.

He felt his face heat up with slight embarrassment as (Y/N) giggled. “You do?”

“Yeah. I followed your series about your recovery and I’ve watched some of your livestreams every now and then. What always stood out to me was when you talked about the negative side effects of your treatment, and eventually having to put the feeding tube in and how you’ve found that effects you, too. Being someone with chronic illness and constant pain, I’ve also had those days where it feels like even getting out of bed is too much work and I don’t feel like I can stream or make a video, but then my anxiety tells me that everyone is going to forget about me if I don’t make some type of content, so it’s just an internal struggle when really I should be resting.”

“Being a content creator and having an illness is tough,” (Y/N) agreed. “It feels like you can’t take a day off. I sometimes regret making that series because on days that I felt absolutely awful, I didn’t want to film or edit anything, but I felt like I had to because so many people were watching. Ironically enough, that became the topic of one of those videos; I just sat in front of my camera looking the worst I think I’ve ever looked on camera and talked about how exhausted I felt just from being alive, but felt like I couldn’t rest because of my channel. That’s when I started taking longer breaks between videos and streaming. Your fans won’t leave you, not the true fans anyways. They’ll always be by your side even if you decide to disappear from the Internet forever.”

Corpse half smiled to himself. “I’ve thought about doing that sometimes.”

“It’ll be easy for you to do that where you’re faceless. No one would bother you even after you left the Internet cause they’d have no idea it was you unless you spoke.”

A brief pause in their conversation caused them to hear Sean yelling as he ran past the room. (Y/N) giggled and walked out of the room. Corpse followed, hoping to continue the conversation somewhere else.

“It means a lot to me that you think that about me, though,” (Y/N) continued as she ran into the storage room. “I find you pretty inspirational too.”

This took Corpse by surprise. He didn’t know how to respond. Sure, he heard that all the time from his fans, and it always meant the world to him to know that people found him to be an inspiration, but it felt different to hear that from someone he had looked up to for so long.

“I wish I could’ve been a faceless creator like you,” she said when Corpse didn’t respond. “One of my biggest regrets is probably showing my face online. Although, it wouldn’t make sense for me not to show my face when I’m making a series about cancer treatment, but people can be mean. Even when someone is struggling with illness or a disease, the Internet doesn’t care. Whatever makes them feel better over someone else feeling like shit.”

“I still get a lot of hateful messages even though I’m faceless, though.”

“You do, but you’re so unbothered by it. Publicly anyways. When I get messages about how sickly I look I get so overwhelmed with sadness and I just wanna delete my channel forever. I can’t even fake not caring because it really does effect me.”

“Stick with me, I’ll teach you my ways. My favorite is trolling the troll.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “I’d like that a lot.”

Corpse watched (Y/N)’s pink bean approach his black one. “I’m glad we had this chat, Corpse. It made me really happy, but now it also makes doing this a lot harder.”

Corpse gasped as a kill animation popped up on the screen and (Y/N)’s astronaut quickly disappeared into the nearby vent. He was stunned into silence for a long time, just watching his ghost floating above his dead body. To make matters worse, (Y/N) had closed the door to storage so no one would find his body unless they had to go in there.

Charlie’s ghost floated through the walls and came to float next to Corpse’s. “Figured out Jack wasn’t the other imposter, huh?”

“Yeah,” Corpse said, laughing. “She really had me fooled. Buttered me up with compliments then killed me.”

“I taught her well,” Charlie comments before floating away again.

Corpse couldn’t help but laugh about the situation. He wasn’t mad, more impressed than anything. And he was a little happy; he got to talk to someone that had always been an inspiration to him and he made a new friend.

[i-make-fun-of-spn-characters]

I feel like you've given most spn related things some lil spice but I always love the spice on this : hot spicy take on the "Dean is the most horrible character and ruins everyone's life and Sam and Cas are poor little meow meows who only do bad things sometimes because tyran Dean farted in their direction" takes that are not really only said by anti-Dean peeps ? Obsessed with that incredible thesis and would love the added spice ❤

SPICY HOT HOT GHOST PEPPERS CAROLINA REAPERS HELP I'M BURNING

I really try to respect other people’s opinions, and I believe there are a wealth of ways to interpret a story, and I think that’s a deeply beautiful thing. This applies to interpretations I don't agree with and outright dislike as well. That said, some opinions are simply and objectively bad, dishonest, and/or demonstrably false, and I truly do not believe you can sit down and honestly watch through the show with an open mind about all the characters, truly pay attention to what they do, say, and believe, and come to the conclusion that this show is about an evil manipulative abusive man terrorizing his pure and sinless brother and friend. It is an interpretation built from cherry picking facts to suit an ugly, miserable theory, making Mount Everest out of a bunch of the tiny mole hills, making the worst possible presumptions of feelings and intentions, and holding characters to completely different standards in order to neatly divide them into "abused" and "abuser" in a way that, frankly, fetishizes the abused person. I despise this interpretation of the story with every fiber of my being, and I have absolutely no respect for the opinion of anyone who peddles it, regardless of who they cast as villain/victim (because people have also done this with the others—it’s just more “popular” to do it with Dean... I mean... does anyone else remember how people were shitting on Sam after his emotional reaction in 14.12? Calling him an evil abuser? Because I do).

The thing that always gets me about this take isn't just how dishonest, unfair, mean-spirited, and compassionless it is in its treatment of Dean’s feelings, circumstances, and intentions... but how deeply reductive and offensive it is toward Sam and Castiel, sucking away their identities to turn them into effigies to mourn for their sad, Stockholm syndrome-esque attachment to their "abuser". Further, it grips the heart of the show—the relationship between Sam and Dean, and then the relationship among TFW as a whole—in a tight, uncompromising fist and pulverizes it. It literally rips out the heart of the show (the RELATIONSHIPS) and replaces it with something unprepossessing of any merit: A miserable, 15 years long story about a malicious abuser getting away with terrorizing those closest to him for his entire life, while his poor abuse victims suffer through until they die for him/happy to be reunited with him because they “don’t know any better” and never ever learned better, I guess. What a stupid, sad sack of a story.

Castiel is a thousands of years old celestial being who has literally beaten Dean into the pavement under no form of mind control, and has shown over and over again that he will do whatever the hell he wants, regardless of whatever Dean thinks about being sidelined. If he thinks whatever he is doing is in Dean's best interest, he literally does not care how Dean feels about it. He will nod and smile and then fly off and swallow thousands of souls with Dean begging him not to, shove Dean out of the way to attack the big bad, leave Dean alone in Purgatory, refuse to come out of Purgatory so he can self-flagellate, fly off with the angel tablet, help Sam with the Book of the Damned, let Lucifer possess him without anyone's knowledge or agreement, come into Dean's room under the guise of apologizing for ghosting him so that he can steal The Colt out from under his pillow and murder someone, decide not to murder that person and still prevent Sam and Dean from helping by knocking them both unconscious, get himself killed, make a deal to trade his life for Jack's and never tell anyone, hide information and worries and ignore phone calls, ghost Sam and Dean, and bicker and fight with Dean as if they are a married couple. Love sickness and feelings of worthlessness (which Cas has a wealth of reasons to feel—many of which aren’t even related to Dean but to his heavenly family) are reinterpreted as the result of some sort of constant, terrorizing emotional abuse. Power and authority that Dean does not actually have is forced into his hands by these fans. Maybe listen when Cas says, “Hey—not everything is your fault.” Maybe listen when he says “I loved the whole world because of you”, calls Dean a role model, says he enjoys their conversations, offers to die with him and dies for him multiple times. Maybe treat these feelings as genuine and valid and HIS and not as the delusions of some poor manipulated baby. 

Sam is framed this way even more often than Cas, and it's a damn shame, because what I typically see is this: Sam’s development into a mediator and peacemaker is twisted and reinterpreted as coming from a place of weakness and/or fear. Rationality, maturity, wisdom, and compassion are not the traits of a scared, powerless child. They are the traits of a mature adult, who has been beaten down by life, and fought and raged against his circumstances, and somehow come out of it with more kindness and understanding and strength instead of less. He has made his own decisions whenever it was possible, within the set of circumstances doled out to him. From telling his dad to go fuck himself and going to college, to getting back into hunting to avenge Jess (NOT because of Dean—Dean took him home without complaint at the end of the woman in white case), to continuing to hunt after their father died because he wanted to feel close to him (Dean was actually weirded out and sort of disgusted by this), raging and fighting to save Dean from his deal against Dean’s wishes, continuing to hunt and working with Ruby (directly against Dean’s dying wish), drinking demon blood, jumping in the cage, leaving hunting to go be with Amelia, coming back to hunting to save Kevin, fighting with Dean over what he had with Amelia and threatening to leave if Dean didn't shut his mouth, leaving Amelia to go back to hunting (Dean ultimately suggests he go back to her—Sam chooses to stay), trying to kill Benny, demanding to be the one to do The Trials and saying he is going to SURVIVE them—that being the ENTIRE POINT, losing that resolve in a fit of depression but choosing to drop the knife, demanding space from Dean (and being given it), fighting to save Demon Dean who didn’t want to be found or saved, using the Book of the Damned against Dean’s wishes, telling Charlie that this is what he wants—that he used to want normal but now all he wants is to hunt with Dean and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t have that, unleashing the Darkness in his desperation to keep Dean with him and even saying, “I would do it again” in the aftermath, saving the town being destroyed by Amara, getting into The Cage with Lucifer, leading a team against the British Men of Letters, nurturing Jack, punching Dean in the face when he was going to sacrifice himself, leading more hunters, wielding a gun against Chuck... and that’s just some highlights. Sam Fucking Winchester does not need your bullshit about him being some sad, scared, helpless baby lorded over by mean old Dean who has never let him do anything he wants. 

Yes, in the text itself, there is jealousy and resentment at times, and there is legitimate and righteous anger on Sam’s part on a few occasions. There is blame cast on Dean by Sam for some of these choices/circumstances. Some of those moments where Dean is blamed are legitimate, and some of them... frankly, are not. Within the framework of the fucked up dynamics of the way they were raised, Sam and some fans bristle when they feel Dean is casting himself as the parent he is not, but Sam also has been guilty in the past of trying to reframe himself as Dean’s child when things got tough. Neither of them is responsible for the origin of that dynamic, but they BOTH have responsibility to change it, and they both, ultimately, succeed in doing so. For Sam, his part comes in recognizing and learning to fully own his own choices. Recognizing that he is not a child, and he is certainly not Dean’s child, and it isn’t just “Mummy—loosen the grip”, but Sam has to too—not claim independence only to blame Dean for his choices when his own decisions have an ultimate outcome he is unhappy with. That is a legitimate arc that Sam goes through imo, but he comes out the other side of it, and he and Dean relate to each other much better as peers from then on—and I’d like to note that throughout the entire series, when they don’t relate as perfect peers and teammates, it isn’t always Dean “bossing Sam around”, but Sam also trying to sideline Dean and yes—boss him around. And when they lied and hurt each other and yes, even manipulated each other, Dean most certainly wasn't always the one doing the lying and hurting and manipulating. Always, always, ALWAYS, they both had an understandable point of view, and it was complex, and you could understand why they made the choices they did, even if you thought of those choices as being wrong ones. 

I also would like to point out (because this is basically what I see all of the time) that Dean being hurt by someone or simply voicing his feelings or opinion is in no way abusive or manipulative. Dean is certainly charismatic and loved and his returning love and respect is often deeply desired, but he is not an actual siren, who bends people to his will simply by speaking or being. People are, in fact, able to tell him “no”, and frequently FREQUENTLY do. Further more, no one is owed his affection, his unwavering loyalty, or his trust. He has a right to his boundaries, regardless of if it makes some poor sad sap feel deprived of the “wellspring of coveted love” while he works through things. He can be hurt and angry, and he can wear his heart on his sleeve at times, and he can be flawed, and broken. [Insert Castiel's speech from 15.18 here]. So can Sam. So can Cas. None of them are manipulating each other by virtue of getting angry, feeling hurt, being traumatized, needing space, or having differing opinions or feelings. Sam didn’t punch Dean in the face in 14.12 because he's a cruel, manipulative abuser trying to force Dean under his thumb. He didn’t work behind Dean’s back with Ruby, insist on doing The Trials, beg Dean to use Doc Benton’s alchemy, use the Book of the Damned to cure Dean, pump him full of blood to cure him of being a demon despite the fact that it might kill him, or scream at him and fight him for wanting to get in the Ma’lak box because he “doesn’t respect his autonomy” and “wants to control him” and “doesn’t respect his right to his own body”. He did it because he loves him desperately, and Dean could stand to fucking hate himself less, and he fiercely wanted Dean to live even when Dean didn’t want to or couldn’t picture what that could be like. He didn’t force Dean to do anything simply by opening his mouth to voice disagreement and swaying Dean when he did so. Now reverse that. 

Cas didn't beat Dean into the ground in season 5 because he wanted to terrorize him into never going against Castiel ever again. He didn’t go behind his back dozens of times, sideline him, go MIA, all because he wanted to manipulate and control Dean and punish him. He didn’t throw sassy remarks at him to shatter his self-esteem. Now reverse that. 

*Breathes*

Anyway, fuck "X is abusive” interpretations. 

[dykesymmetry]

I'm sorry to tell you but I would love to hear about the historical inaccuracies and all of your qualms with the pirate au with naval captain techno and this is your blog on a site you presumably come onto to enjoy yourself so you genuinely should have to worry about offending people with your thoughts and opinions so long as you're respectful and acknowledge their efforts before listing what was done wrong so they can learn :// /gen

WAH ok ok. uh. this is not gonna be a super serious rant bc i dont have any actual issues w the fic and its very well-written and if u like shit like potc or whatever u should definitely read it bc its very fun. that being said thats also MY special interest theyre butchering so im just gonna like. infodump about golden age of piracy below the cut

gonna start this off rq by saying im ignoring any obviously fantastical elements like erets magic or the weird storm at the beginning cause like. idrc about adding in fantasy shit, my own pirate au has like. piglins and shit. its fine idc

ok first major point is like. general characterization. which i dont honestly think is the fault of the writer misunderstanding the characters or anything, i think its more just the general assumption that pirates were all lawless renegades and the navy were idealistic men or something, in which case, lil bastard shit philza would fit the pirate role better while deeply ideological techno would fit the navy. but. i find it really fucking hard to believe that a character whos anarchist ideals make up a big portion of his motivations would be a bootlicker. and he honestly fits pretty well into the role of pirate captain? a big part of like. piracy in general. was creating this terrifying image of yourself, bc realistically you didnt want to get in a fight with every ship, that costs ammo and ship repairs and possibly lives. and i think technoblade, someone who is usually known as The Blade and who has a reputation for just being. super fucking bloodthirsty. but in reality has deepseated ideals and is determined to protect his friends at all costs, would fit way better into the role of pirate captain than phils casual war criminal self would (to be clear: i aint saying phil wouldnt be a pirate, he absolutely would. im just saying hed be a kinda shit captain tbh)

second point: pirate crews did not have the same highly hierarchical approach to roles on a ship as the navy did. to the writers credit, they kinda touched on this in ch 3 when they mentioned that the mens loyalty would still lie w phil rather than techno, but like. pirate captains werent just put into place like that, and certainly not by the previous captain. they were generally elected by the crew, who could then elect someone else if they didnt live up to their standards. also, when someone joined the crew, there'd be this whole captains code thing that theyd have to read and sign (admittedly, i know why they didnt put that part in, paperwork is boring im not faulting them for that)

along the same lines as the hierarchical shit, there wasnt really a first mate, at least in terms of like. "second in command." what there Was was a quartermaster, someone who kinda like. relayed messages between the crew and captain. again, not a huge grievance, just something that kept bugging me every time they mentioned it

another rather small grievance but one that bugged me nonetheless: at the end of ch 3, they had this moment where techno looked up at their colors and had a minute of Self Reflection that i completely ignored bc like. you would absolutely not just sail around w the black raised you are a sitting fucking target and it gives any navy vessel/pirate hunters just like. a dead giveaway that you should be attacked. youd only raise the colors if you were like. actively chasing a prize

ALSO while we're at it. this ones not a historical inaccuracy but is more of just a missed opportunity. not everyone had the same flag! most pirate captains had their own unique designs, some a bit more. goofy. than others

in phil and my au, techno has a flag similar to calico jacks (top right), but with a pig skull instead of a humans. again, its not entirely historically inaccurate, but it wouldve been cool to see what their ideas were for a unique philza flag

ok my last major issue here and one i wanted to save for last bc its a bit more graphic than others: corporal punishment (pogchamp!). im gonna be honest, im not super familiar w what could and couldnt get you punished w the royal navy, But what i do know is that the whole. cutting off a hand thing. would not be super accurate. if he was punished, hed likely be whipped (probably w a cat o nines which are like. super fucking brutal. not a fun time in the slightest). amputations were more of a "whoops you got an infection and this is the 18th century so our treatment is just to Chop" thing

[spindlebeforesunset]

Baby Scenario = Epel and Jack

Nobody noticed they were missing from classes until at almost lunchtime Deuce was like hold up, are they sick or something.

Word traveled fast that Jack could have been sick and it managed to reach Leona, so he went to give his junior a talking down. Vil saw the uncarved apples on the lunch table so he goes back to Pomefiore to check on Epel.

At Savanaclaw, a scrawny baby Jack almost falls off the stairs if Leona did not think fast enough to catch him. All what Leona can think of is that he's stuck in a fever dream.

At Pomefiore, Epel has eaten up all his secret snacks and has made a mess on his baby-sized uniform and blanket. Vil is not pleased.

Both dorm leaders meet at the Mirror Hall and are promptly confused when they see each other holding a baby version of their dormmate.

Vil: Jack too?

Leona: Why does yours look like he came from a bloodbath?

Vil: He kept a stash of snacks the whole time in his room! And Jack looks half-dead, what are you? Feed him!

They enter the cafeteria and are greeted with "aww, they look so squishy!"

Leona and Vil: Don't touch the child.

But nobody questions them when they pick up food until the next happened.

Rook nearly collapsed when he saw Vil giving a baby Epel some orange juice to drink. Ruggie lost his shit because Leona was actually trying to feed a baby Jack a fried chicken leg.

Rook: Roi de Poison? What are you doing to the infante? Have mercy!

Ruggie: Leona, what the hell, don't shove that in his mouth!

Leona and Vil : Wait, you're not supposed to do that?

Cue 'what the fuck is wrong with you' looks across the cafeteria. Jamil has facepalmed so hard he knocked himself unconscious and Kalim has to get some people to help. Lilia and Malleus have left the room with Silver in tow. Azul just shakes his head, feeling pity for the unfortunate babies. Trey has to be the one to give them milk.

Epel does not like the milk and spills it on the table to Vil's disgust. Jack on the other hand chugs it all down with an amused Leona. When baby Epel saw Jack chugging the milk, he crawled over to him when Vil was wiping off the mess, and to everyone's shock, he slapped the (empty) plastic cup on Jack's head with a resounding wham!

"WAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Leona has to cradle a crying Jack in one arm and block a laughing Epel with the other. "Can you get your little shit please."

Vil: Epel, that's bad!

Epel: Hahahahahaha!

Riddle: Wow, that's one evil baby (promptly backs away from the shared table)

"Epel, you don't do that to others," Vil scolds the still laughing baby. "No, you do not do that," he keeps Epel an arm away because the latter is trying to scratch him. "Stop that!"

Before anyone can even stop him, Vil slaps Epel's baby hands away from him. The expected result happens and the baby sobs.

Leona: The hell was that!

Vil: Kingscholar, that's called discipline!

Leona: The fuck-

Crowley: Why did you two not tell me that this happened again! And two at once!

Baby Jack is scared of Headmaster Crowley and burrows himself in Leona's waistcoat. Baby Epel (feeling betrayed by Vil) crawls over to the Headmaster who scoops him up in his arms and starts to soothe him.

"Crewel will be out this afternoon Schoenheit, so the antidote will be left solely to you."

Hold the fuck up.

"But, Headmaster, what about that one?"

"He's better off with me than you I presume, Schoenheit."

"Oof," Rook says.

"Jack as well."

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

"Headmaster, with all due respect," Vil begins.

"Jack does not like you," finishes Leona. "You don't want to go to him do you, little wolf?"

Baby Jack just clings to Leona in protest but Epel (the little shit) is just laughing at him. Headmaster Crowley is having second thoughts about baby Epel but oh well. Leona is pretty much stuck with Jack, so he takes a tray full of baby-friendly food that Jade had been preparing and follows Vil.

"Aren't you going to say 'bye', Epel?" Floyd asks.

Ortho gets Epel's arm and makes it wave.

Ruggie follows Leona because he just has a feeling that the latter would do something stupid like fall asleep and leave Jack to crawl around.

Back at Pomefiore, Vil is readying the antidote and demands no interruption from Leona who followed him with a sleepy Jack and Ruggie who followed Leona.

In the Headmaster's office, Epel is happily sleeping in an apple crate cushioned by a blanket. Sam pops in regarding some deliveries and almost trips because it is literally in the absolute centre of the room. Epel wakes up momentarily before sleeping again.

Vil is boiling the brew in a cauldron, takes one moment to look up, and just sees Leona snoring on the floor, a sleeping Jack, and a pissed off Ruggie cradling the baby.

Ruggie: He's hopeless.

Vil: You don't say.

Ruggie is internally thinking Vil is a hypocrite because he's not even taking care of the baby Epel, but reasons with himself that he is the one making the antidote after all. Also, the baby friendly food is dwindling because Ruggie is eating some of it.

When Epel wakes up at late afternoon, he topples over his crate and is trapped. Crowley is nowhere to be seen, he's out walking. Ace and Deuce are looking for the Headmaster because they were called to and hear wailing in the office.

They rope a passing Rook to unlock the door and find the crate moving.

Deuce: WHY IS A BABY IN SOLITARY CONFINEMENT.

Rook gets Epel out, Ace writes a note saying they took Epel, and the trio head out.

They meet Cater taking selfies and the first thing he notices is a still teary Epel.

Cater: Why is he crying?

Deuce: Why was he in solitary confinement?

Ace: Why was he left with the Headmaster?

Rook: Why did it have to be him into a baby, now shut up we need to get to Roi de Poison.

Cater spreads the tidbit of Epel in confinement at the office and when the trio are at the Pomefiore lounge, the news had reached half the school. At the dungeons, they see that its a mess. Jack does not want to eat the soup that Ruggie and Leona are trying to feed him. Epel sees Vil, and shrieks, mama!

Vil: If you were my child, you would be better behaved.

Everyone else: B r u h.

At least Vil is almost done with the potion. Epel is placed on the floor but Vil freaks and tells Rook to carry him instead.

Leona: Wow, you do care.

Vil: Do you?

Baby Jack crawls near Vil's leg and he accidentally steps on the baby's hand with his fucking heels. Jack screams WAAAAAAAAA, Vil is apologizing and panicking, Leona is yelling at Vil, dummy duo and Ruggie are freaking over the potion because it is spilling, and Cater and Rook are just helplessly handing Epel more snacks. Leona grabs baby Jack and tries to comfort him while glaring daggers at Vil whose hair is starting to look less composed.

The potion is finished half an hour of stirring later. But the babies do not want to drink it - Epel is full from all his snacks, and Jack is too upset to eat. So everyone is hivemind (except Vil for Epel) in one solution: play with both babies in the hope that one throws up, and the other to cheer up.

Vil and Rook are left with Epel while the others play with Jack. Vil shakes Epel a bit, but the latter is only dazed. Rook then takes Epel again and starts to shake him like a maraca. Naturally, everyone is horrified. And even more horrifying is Crowley screaming at them because THE POOR BABY.

Epel is already in tears, yet nobody sees he's turning green until Leona yells at them. Jack slaps Leona for yelling too loud next to him and he shuts up. Epel throws up in a bucket. This time, Jack laughs at him.

After Vil roughly wipes Epel's face, he forces him to chug the antidote down. Jack turns away from the potion at first, but when Cater, Deuce, Ace, Ruggie, and Leona keep him still, Headmaster Crowley can pour the antidote down. Vil pats Epel so he can sleep, but the dummy duo demand to Crowley why the baby was all alone in the office.

Crowley: I only left for a few moments!

Rook: Then why was he underneath an apple crate?

Crowley: What? H-h-he must have made it fall over!

Leona, internally: Bullshit.

Leona and Ruggie take Jack back to Savanaclaw for proper rest. Leona yeets all his blankets and pillows so that Jack can sleep comfortably and hesitantly sings a lullaby so the wolf cub can sleep.

Vil carries a very miffed Epel back to the latter's room and orders Rook to clean up the snack trash. Baby boy is too clingy but Vil huffs and accepts his role as mom and pats Epel to sleep.

The rest cart out after helping out by cleaning.

Crowley has to face a barrage of questions from both students and staff alike as to Epel's treatment up to the next day.

When the two babies are back to their regular form, they both freak and send their respective dorm heads flying across the room as they too had fallen asleep.

Leona and Vil: After all I've done for you-

[whump-town]

A Cumbersome And Heavy Body

Chapter Three: I'm Treading For My life, Believe Me

Summary: Stubborn until the very end, Aaron Hotchner isn’t going to go down without a fight. It’s just getting hard to tell the difference between fighting them and fighting the cancer.

Word count:  6103

Author’s Note: I did listen, on repeat, to the Anastasia soundtrack while writing this. Which, you would think, would make this a rather happy chapter and if you thought that... how silly you will feel in a few moments. You can find the first chapter here! 

Warning: the subject of this fic is cancer and it’s treatment, cursing, maybe out of character (idk, man. hotch is weird) bonus: I’m 19 and a humanities major so obviously I don’t know anything about medicine so I’m doing my best out here

Not knowing how to think I scream aloud, begin to sink My legs and arms are broken down With envy for the solid ground

There is not a sound. Not a shiver. The floorboards do not moan lowly. No hinge gives its creaking complaint. The disturbance is a felt one. Something she feels right where her fourth rib meets her sternum. It has no name. Calling it instinct is superstitious. Claiming it as training or intuition is childish.

It has everything to do with love and fear.  And love and fear alone.

“Aaron?” The comforter he seems to be forever tangled has been kicked away in his fitful sleep. In the low light of the room, the hallway light seeping in, she can see his heaving chest. As though he has run a great deal, not lying supine on his bed. “Aaron, can you hear me?” Despite the bitter scent of sweat, she can’t tell what it is that draws her deeper into the room.

Slowly, his dark eyes open, breathing rasping out as he opens his mouth to answer but no sound leaves his pale lips.

Looking over her shoulder, only after looking and listening for a sign they’ve awoken Jack, does she enter the room. Shutting the door behind her, she stifles the room to darkness. She can’t even see the hand extended in front of her. Not that she needs it. The path of his room is simple.

Two steps in there is an outfit shed by the dresser on her right side. The pant leg extends out and if she doesn’t lift her foot, she’ll trip. Three more steps in and she needs to extend her hand just a fraction to feel the cool wooden bed frame. There she can pivot herself with its aid. Step high over the sweatshirt on the floor and she’s good. Well, mostly.

She gets tangled in the comforter he kicked off.

“Em--” he coughs, letting out an achy moan. “Emily?”

She gets to his nightstand and leans heavily on the old wood, catching her breath. The damn blanket was like fighting an octopus. “Right here,” she promises, knocking all kinds of shit to the floor as she fights her way to the lamp. It comes on with a click and they both wince at its sharpness. She’s got her eyes closed, trying to allow her pupils some small reprieve, when his hand wraps around her forearm. Cold clammy fingers wrapped around her wrist. “Hotch?”

The soft hazel of his eyes is unfamiliar. “I want to go home,” he rasps softly. His chest shutters with the effort the simple request has taken. The tears in his eyes slide down his cheeks without the guilt. He strikes her. Not with his palm open and hands roughened by callouses. He does not hit her or cause her to draw back with his words. By the look in his eyes. The confusion. The pain.

“Aaron--” Once and only once does she consider trying to convince him that he is exactly where he craves to be. Mouth open, the words pushing at her tongue, she decides that will only hurt them both. Softening the look on her face, she crouches down by his side. Taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

The rash on his chest has depended its angry red, it taunts her now as the glisten of his sweat across his pale skin. Every visit to the doctor promises that it’s not as bad as it looks. It causes him mild discomfort and nothing can be done. It is a product of the radiation. To heal the wound is futile. Stepping off a cliff to avoid a hill.

“You’re feverish,” she notes, moving the back of her palm against his forehead. To her surprise, he doesn’t pull away from her touch. Not even as her fingers draw against the sharp peak of his cheek bones. He lays, compliant, eyes foggy but on her. With a fond sigh, she observes, “dehydrated. You didn’t drink the water I gave you.”

When he speaks, he sounds much more like himself. The tone costs him more than it's worth. “My throat hurts.” Which is an awful excuse but it’s the truth and she knows it’s just another part of normal life falling away from her grasp. Today it is just water but tomorrow it is the hospital. It’s the central line and the saline and the tube they’re going to place in his stomach because he’s reaching the point of inabilities.

And it is never as simple as a sore throat.

She’s tired of seeing his blood so casually wiped from his pale skin. The bags under his eyes deepened to caverns and the lakes of tears in his eyes. There is nothing she can do. The mass of cancer can be cut out of his flesh but the cells could still multiply. Quite simply, there is nothing she can do for him. Except--

“Stay.”

He mistakes her movement for the path to leave. She’s just aiming to pull the comforter back over him.

“I--” They look at each other. She sees so much burning vulnerability. “I’ll stay,” she caves and with that promise she can reach down and pull the comforter back over his body.

Already, his eyes are dropping shut. “You can--” he coughs, his whole body jarred by the movement. “You can sit, Emily. I can keep my hands to myself.”

She rolls her eyes but sits down on the corner of the bed. She takes his hand, rubbing at his knuckles when he turns his head to cough. “Shut up,” comes her hesitation reply. It feels wrong, misplaces. She wants to slip into their innocent, normal tit-for-tat banter but he’s not up for it. It’s not what he needs or is even capable of.

“Please don’t just sit there and stare at me,” he rasps.

Her face flushes. She had been doing exactly that. “If I lay down, you better not try to cuddle me.”

He huffs at that but whatever he might have said is overshadowed by his deep, nasty sounding coughs.

She reaches

“Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

She gently moves her hand across the bed sheet until she finds his. Interlacing her fingers with his she manages, thickly, “please don’t die.” His head turns on his pillow and she can feel him looking at her but she keeps her eyes on the ceiling. After a long pause, her heart beating frantically the whole way, he simply squeezes her hand. Not a promise… just comfort. Sniffling she sits up and grabs some of the blanket, pulling it over her own bare legs. “Stop hogging the covers. You’re not the only who might want some.”

As she settles down, turning her back to him, she closes her eyes. Feeling the hot stream of her tears falling over her face. The last thing she hears before she falls asleep is his hoarse voice, full of tears of his own. “I’m so sorry Emily.”

-------------------------

“How are you?”

Radiation was early this morning. He’d been lying if he didn’t admit that he gave Emily hell about it. Which he does feel fairly guilty about but she got what she wanted to he’s not that sorry. For the first time, he let her come in with him. Mostly because he didn’t have the strength to get himself out of the car but if he doesn’t dwell on that thought too much then it’s okay.

But he also knows that Emily told Garcia about this morning. Briefly, no doubt, about him being an absolute pain in the ass. Mostly how he’d let her tie his shoes. How he’d limped, leaning heavily against the wall to the bathroom and losing the meager bit of breakfast he had. Whatever she knows, she wears on her face. The worried crinkle between her brows. The downward quirk of her pink sparkling lips.

She shouldn’t be here.

Despite the ear protection Dave had spent so much time finding, his ears still ache from the rattling from the radiation machine. Every nerve in his body agitated by hot fire packers digging further and deeper into his brain. The dancers with their little tacs glued to their shoes traveling along his skin. To his legs and then up his arms. And, yet, he pushes on.

As confidently as he can manage, he forces himself to focus his eyes on Garcia. Smiling through the haggard, involuntary sway of his body. “I’m okay, Garcia. No need to worry.”

But she can see how pale his skin has gotten over the last month. How the shadow of a beard across his cheeks makes him look sicker, weaker. She knows that he won’t like her attention but she craves for Aaron Hotchner. So, she finds herself looking at him longer, trying harder to see within him. To find her boss and not the ghost he’s left behind. “We… I love you, sir. You know that, right?” She hesitantly touches his hand and as much as she thought it would hurt to feel him recoil it hurts even worse when he doesn’t.

But he’s here, isn’t he? Is it not just like her stupidly brave boss to keep trying, to keep pushing?

Hotch’s hand trembles where she’s captured it in her own and as self-conscious as that makes him feel… he can’t pull away. All these shields, blocades he’s built around himself have been his destruction. He’s pushed them away until they no longer let him near without armor of their own. Always prepared to enter the cave and find a beast. But Garcia, merciful Garcia, still just sees him. It terrifies him but he just wants someone to disregard his wishes. To throw caution to the wind and hug him. Touch him.

“I know,” he manages. He smiles, clenching his teeth to refrain from showing or saying how much better he feels with her around.

She stands, leaving his side. “Just making sure,” she confirms. She turns, her hand on his shoulder, as she takes in the state of his house. Empty. Emily has been diligent with cleaning up after them. Hotch, too, when he can manage to stand long enough to wash the dishes.

She remembers, like a blow to the heart, that Emily has fallen behind on laundry. That had been the one chore Hotch was solidly keeping up on. Emily had seemed so positive about that, only a few weeks ago. Smiling as she reassured he was very adamant to let her anywhere near the laundry (and as she suspected, his underwear) so as long as he was managing to be his usual stubborn self things would be fine. They had been. But after the nose bleeds he’s not as strong. His appetite is gone and every week when they draw his blood the odds are slowly shifting out of his favor.

He’s anemic and they gave him a blood transfusion at the hospital after the nose bleed but it hasn’t helped. Now he takes iron supplements and a pill that smells horrible and tastes even worse. He can get over the pills. It’s just two more in the sea of things he takes. It’s the fact that he can’t lift anything. Years of training and rigorous training down the drain but his knees are like jelly and his arms like boiled noodles.

On top of all that, this morning they talked about starting chemotherapy in addition to the radiation. His cells aren’t responding. So, Emily’s thoughts have been elsewhere. Not on the laundry steadily building unwashed.

“I’m going to make myself useful,” she says, getting in a quick kiss before he can put up too much of a fight. She’s not sure if his lack of response is good or not. Either way, she tucks a blanket up around him. Smiling when he just looks up at her-- there’s a flash of Hotch in his exhausted eyes. He starts to fuss with her-- she doesn’t need to clean, that’s not why she’s here (which they really don’t need to argue about unless she wants to hash out how she’s really here to babysit him).

But he just sinks into the pillow behind his head. No fight.

“Please tell me if you need help,” she says as she walks away. He hums something under his breath but she knows he won’t. She’ll just have to listen for him.

The laundry really isn’t that bad.

Emily’s room is a mess but Emily is a bit of a mess herself so it’s not that surprising. She picks up minimally. Moving anything around too much will just make Emily flustered to have been caught. So, she just picks up the towels she sees and a few pairs of shirts and pants she knows Emily likes the most and heads to the laundry room. The washing machine and dryer are down the hall, pushed aside in a closet like space.

Tossing in what she’s gathered she goes back to Emily’s room-- she’s just wasting time so she doesn’t have to go into Hotch’s room. Picking up a discarded glass of water and a few water bottles. She makes note that if Emily isn’t back in time to throw their sheets and bed sets in the washing machine. It’s always nice to have clean bedsheets.

Looking at Emily’s room she realizes she has to venture to Hotch’s room now.

She comes to linger in the living room. “You doing okay?” She doesn't get a response but she can’t really see him so she moves closer. One of his legs is drawn up, resting against the couch and the other stretched out and over the arm of the couch. When she’d left him he’d still been sitting up, fighting to stay alert through their short conversation. It’s… nice to see him comfortable.

Without thinking, she reaches down and moves her hand through his hair. Trying her best not to react to the amount of grey she sees. He moves, shifting his face further into the couch. She fears she’s woken him but his eyelashes flutter for only a moment before he sighs and stills once again.

Sighing, she leaves him once again. Blindly hoping he’ll sleep for a while if she doesn’t bother him.

His room is… exactly as she expects it to be and, yet, not.

His bedspread is a dark green color, nearly emerald and surely something Jessica or one of the other’s picked out. There are pieces of him thrown through-out the room with the finest touches of someone else left behind. For example, the books that litter every surface is him. From his nightstand, to his dresser, to a few stacked on the floor. The nightstands are old and she feels a little sore work itself into her throat at the possibility that they are a set and were probably bought for him and Haley.

And now there’s only him.

There is a stuffed elephant and blanket on the floor on the other side of the bed. She wonders how frequently Jack sleeps with him. Probably more than normal now.

His room is neat. She tucks his comforter back where it should be. Placing a piece of paper in the book he’d left face down. There’s a single sock with colorful, swirling patterns. A shirt that looks very well loved tucked inside of a sweater of equal wear and tear. Clothes and homely things. Hotch things.

From down the hall she hears his muffled coughs and something hard hitting the wall.

“Sir!” She hurries from his room, letting the clothes in her hand hit the floor. It’s not hard to find him. His house has a familiar, simple layout. “Are you okay?” He’s standing in the hall, facing her. Shoulder pulled in, left arm around his chest, and the right blindly leading him along.

He nods, muffling his bone rattling coughs into his elbow. “Just…” he shakes his head. “Going to the bathroom.”

She looks over her shoulder, his room and bathroom are only a few steps away but… He doesn’t look like he’s going to get there without a little help. “Could…” she chews her lips into her mouth. “Would it be okay I help-- If you just leaned on me, a little bit? For my sanity?”

He nods, simply going where she moves him. It’s not hard to slip under him. Without heels, his height advantage is much more apparent. She looks down at the floor as she works his arm over her shoulders, smiling at the sight of his socks. Her own don’t match-- a homage to Reid but also because she knows it, secretly, drives Hotch crazy. But he’s wearing a pair of polka dot socks. Each one an extreme loud variation of every color you can think of.

“Nice socks, sir!”

It distracts him for a moment from the humiliation of needing both her and the wall to walk down the hall. He looks down at his socks-- socks that he and Emily had fought long and hard about this morning. He didn’t want to wear them. He’d needed normalcy. Craved it. He wanted plain black socks that would go unnoticed. But she had won and everyone saw him in his boxers and stupidly bright socks. It had put smiles on their faces too. Even Emily’s, though, she had tried to hide it behind her book.

“Emily’s doing,” he reassures her.

They can’t fit shoulder-to-shoulder into the room so she lets him lean against the doorframe and manage it on his own. Following closely behind. “Oh, of course,” she says smiling now she’s behind him and he can't see. Though, as soon as she’s done it she wishes he would see. To see her smile and know it’s at his expense and give her one of those scowls that have always just made her love him a little more.

But instead she sits on the corner of his bed and closes her eyes. Wincing and flinching as he gets sick.

Emily had been so… afraid when she left. Garcia hadn’t understood why. Even when the information Emily was throwing at her-- hurling words, meaningless words. Now… Now Garcia is cursed with Emily's same burden of knowing.

It had all come so quickly-- that the nose bleed had been because he was anemic and that they can’t get his red blood cell count back up. “Not to fret”, Emily had said thickly with sarcasm, his white blood cells are through the rough and the product of much anxiety. That the awful cough he has is from Radiation Pneumonitis and “not to worry” he’s on steroids that make him incredibly nauseous and a complete ass. The best part? It can scar his lungs!

All this information had come so quickly that Garcia hadn’t processed any of it.

Dave had called Garcia early this morning and asked if she needed anything to do. Normally, when he asks that sort of thing, he’s asking her over to do the grunt work of cooking-- rolling breads or kneading dough-- but today when she’d happily agreed he’d had something else in mind.

So, today, while Emily goes with Dave for a long lunch she’s staying with Hotch.

The original plan was just to leave him by himself. Dave had assumed that would be alright. Afterall, two days ago when Dave had last seen him, Hotch was very himself. Stubborn and grouchy when they tried to help him do anything-- even the normal sorts of things you do for people: hold the door, pass them a plate, ask if they want anything when you go to get yourself something, etc.

Having to explain how she couldn’t simply leave Hotch had… broken Emily just a little more. Keeping herself calm, collected as she explained that she was going out with Dave for a while and she’d make sure to bring him something back. Coffee or soup (anything so long as he’d agree to eat). She had cried as soon as she stood to walk to her room, lower lip quivering at just how easily he’d caved. He’d protested everything she did all morning and now just… submits. She’d sobbed in the shower.

He annoys her to no end. Her closest friend, the man she’d left behind to search for something more in London, was a basket case. Do not mistake that. Aaron Hotchner has to do everything himself. Independence is very important to him and she’s being forced to watch him give in. Too tired to fight.

Garcia had arrived a little sooner than expected and Emily had opened the door in a towel, her mascara from that morning smudged under her eyes. Before she could get out an apology, Garcia had already assured her she had plenty of time and that Garcia would go back out and tell Dave to cut the car and come in for a moment.

And Hotch…

He’d been asleep on the couch. Sitting up, nestled into the corner where Emily had left him.

“Hey, Pen?”

Garcia hadn’t even realized she’d been staring.

“He’s got a heating pad tucked against his side, will you warm it up?”

And she’d learned Hotch is prone to chills. That along with nine awful scars, Foyet had damaged his body's ability to regulate temperature and that radiation is being a bitch. So to ease the ache in his side, where Foyet had nicked a rib that won’t ever really heal, Emily just keeps a heating pad around. It keeps him warm.

The beast of knowledge.

“Garcia?”

She hates him. For a moment. Anger and impatient it eats her alive and that’s such an awful thing to have to feel about someone you love. Why can’t he be stronger? It leaves her body in a choked sound. How could she even let herself feel such contempt for the very man who always prides her for her brightness? Loves her no matter how much trouble she drags up? Goes out of his way to remind her to always be her bright silly self?

She stands from his bed and opens the bathroom door.

He looks ashamed and she hates that.

“Have I ever told you about the time Reid and I broke a coffee pot and hid it from you for a month?” she asks before he can apologize.

His Adam's apple bobs as he looks up at her. He’s still curled into himself, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. He feels weak, useless. He couldn't even find the strength to stand and pee. Then, on top of it all, she’d been right there on the other side of the door as he vomited. By now, this is not the first apology he’s been beaten to. Emily has this infallible way of sensing them coming and quickly changes the subject to something else.

It’s… strange to see Garica practice it too.

“Please tell me that was far too long ago to be worth fussing with you over?” he asks, trembling as he accepts the hand she offers.

She smiles and tuckers herself back against him, wrapping her arm around his hips. “Oh it was a while ago,” she assures him. “Like… Gideon long ago. He was just a baby--” she keeps talking no matter what. When he whispers that he needs a break at the doorway, a whole two steps later. Tells him how terrified they’d all been of him at some point in time. How that’s all rather silly because Aaron Hotchner is nothing but a big softy. And, believe it or not, it has always been Derek Morgan breaking that secret to the rookies. That he’s not as big and tough as he looks. That a good, warm batch of snickerdoodles will melt his big icy heart so quickly--

“How many people did you tell that to?” he asks.

She shrugs, only the people that really needed it. “Do I have to give you a number if I make you some right now?”

He considers her offer. His stomach has settled a little and the smell alone would be divine. Plus, Emily had said he could pick dinner… what’s the possibility that she would cave to just letting him eat a cookie or two? He smiles, “I’d consider adequate reparation.”

“Wanna help?”

His smile falters just a bit. He can’t stand for that long and--

“We can make them at the table,” she adds, hastily.

And… he nods. Okay.

That’s how Dave and Emily find them an hour later.

Hotch is covered in flour and Garcia too. A good proper mess.

He’s wrapped in a blanket, the one from the couch, and leaning heavily on the arm propped up on the table. Smiling, content, as Garcia checks the cookies and reassures him that they need only a little bit longer. So that they come out right as the bottom is browning but not brown. ANd he nods his head like he understands when she says the point is to let them finish baking on the pan outside of the oven. That’s the secret to soft cookies.

Which, to him, just sounds like she’s saying she's going to feed slightly undercooked cookies but he’s eaten cookie dough raw for years. He’s never had salmonella but he did get cancer so obviously someone wasn’t warning him about the right things.

“What in the world did you two get into?”

“Cookies!” Garcia holds open the oven to show them. “If you wait just a moment they will be ready!” She places the dirty dishes into the sink. Throwing some water over them to make it easier to wash the dough off.

Emily raises an eyebrow at Hotch and he shrugs. She’s amused by the sight of him covered in flour and what more is to add but a submissive shrug. What can he say except he’s a softy who has always lacked the ability to tell them no?

“You didn’t let Hotch do the measuring did you?” Dave asks, stepping in and inspecting the damage done to the kitchen. Under his breath he continues, “you can tell he’s never been a math man. I’m convinced he doesn’t understand fractions.” Dave has cooked with him too many times. Hotch has never once successfully measured everything right in any dish. The amount of times one fourth has been mistaken as a half or an eighth of something rounded up to a third… it’s crazy.

Garcia glances at Hotch and he already knows exactly where she’d going-- “Well,” she admits, “I let him put the cinnamon in--”

Hotch groans from the table, a dramatic sigh as he closes his eyes and admits defeat.

“It wasn’t his fault!” It was. “There might just be a little bit too much cinnamon. It’s not a big deal!”

Aaron Hotchner brought to his knees by fractions.

-------------------------

When Hotch was in the second grade he got chickenpox from his next-door neighbor Michael. A very common thing given the time and the general mindset of “chickenpox parties”. It had been awful and itchy. His brain so ravished by the fever that he doesn’t remember a whole lot about the experience. Just that it had begun as a patch of dry skin under his right arm, perfectly wedged between two of his protruding ribs. That week of horrible fever and endless itching is the only time Hotch can ever recall his father being gentle.

He’d awoken once during that week, just after four and when his father typically arrived home, to the door shutting softly. His mother whispering to gather his father’s attention and diverge the man away from Hotch. Who, thanks to itching, had only just managed to fall asleep.

Halfway up the stairs, Hotch can remember waking up in his father’s arms. The man had shushed him softly, rocking him the way you might a child until Hotch had laid his head against his father’s chest and gone back to sleep. The gentleness of that action has haunted Hotch for years. Something he thinks about occasionally. Trying and failing to wrap his mind around something so out of character. So bizarre.

“Daddy,” Jack whines, he twists in his father’s lap. “You’re not watching, look!” His little finger demands Hotch’s attention, pointing to the TV. “Did you see it?” Jacks asks, sitting up to gauge Hotch’s reaction. “It was amazing, huh?”

Knowing his son, Hotch does try and get the boy out of the house as much as possible. Which means that lazy nights come far and rare in between. If he can, Hotch likes to take him to the park, museums, aquariums. Anything to keep his little mind crazed by the ideas of the world around him and actively engaged. Today… is not one of those days. There hasn’t been a lot of those days recently.

“The cancer is spreading--”

There’s a certain understandable science to the way that chickenpox works. They actually follow a pattern on the body when they spread. Hotch’s had curled from his left side to his right, working in the grooves of his ribs, and up his sternum.

A very similar pattern to the cancer spreading in his body.

Radiation is no longer enough.

He has two rounds of chemo and spends a lot of time thinking about what comes next. He’s going to get sicker. Weaker. Probably lose his hair. What will really be left of him when all is said and done?

Outside the rain comes down in buckets, thunder shaking the earth, but there’s nothing to the peace inside. Emily had gone around lighting candles, trying to soothe Jack in preparation for if the storm knocks out the electricity. Even if she’d managed to annoy him with her fluttering about, she’d been gentle and understanding. Making sure his shirt was buttoned to hide the deeply irritated skin on his chest.

She’s stronger than he is.

They are all.

“Asland,” Jack mumbles in amazement. He’s settled back down in Hotch’s lap, head on his thigh so Hotch can mindlessly play with his hair. Hotch can’t follow the plot of the simple movie but he’s seen it enough times to hum and mumble responses to Jack’s questions.

The Chronicles of Narnia. It’s Jack’s new favorite thing.

They’ve probably watched it now at least a dozen times.

Emily’s started having dreams about the movie.

No matter how many times he requests it though, she’ll still play it and Hotch will sit down and let Jack explain the plot again. Everytime, it ends with tears.

“I don’t understand why he has to leave,” Jack whimpers.

Hotch is struggling to fight with consciousness. Radiation leaves him haggard. Limbs seemingly attached by measly strings and joints that buckle with minimal weight. He’s got a rash up his chest that itches and burns a lot like that chickenpox rash. It’s normal, he’s assured, and they give him ointment to keep on it. Not to clear it up but rather to keep it from getting infected. Which… seems so practical if not normal. Mundane, really.

“Who?” Hotch rasps, forcing his eyes back open to squint at the TV.

Jack looks up at his father, tears streaming down his face. “Asland.” Over the course of the last few months, of course Jack can tell his father isn’t well. Everyone treats Jack like a thoughtless child, and he is child, but he’s not stupid. He knows why he has to sleep at Jessica’s and why, no matter how much Emily and Hotch make a point to only see him on Hotch’s “good” days, that his father is slowly withering away.

The thigh under Jack’s head used to be bigger. Tense with muscles not thin, almost to the bone. His father seemed to loom, towering over everything. Jack had thought him a king, a knight, a hero. Someone who, through the aches pains of it all rises triumphant and reigns on. Because his father has always been the best kind of person. Strong, vigilant, and forgiving. Surely… that would offer some forgiveness, no? An extra life in the bonus round or a break.

Hotch swallows thickly around the nausea knotting up in his throat. “Asland,” he repeats with a sigh. Right. Asland dies. They’re passed that point but he does die. For the greater good, a strategic move, but the sacrificial play none-the-less. “Sometimes,” Hotch lifts his head. “He was saving the other’s, Jack. He sacrificed himself.” He’s too tired to explain how the book was just a huge religious metaphor. “Sometimes people have to leave.”

Jack sniffles and wraps himself around Hotch’s stomach, burying his head closer. “Why?” he asks miserably.

Hotch doesn’t know. It’s never what you want but he doesn’t want to tell Jack about all of that. How at one point Jack and Haley had been the ones to leave Hotch reeling with that same question, despite logic dictating a clear answer. That Emily had done the same thing to him multiple times. Everyone on the team, really. He’s probably done it to them. If not already, then soon.

“I don’t know, buddy,” Hotch shakes his head. “I really don’t.” Jack nods his head, crying softly against Hotch. Hotch starts to rub Jack’s back, despite the ache in his limbs. “Listen…” Hotch clears his throat and Jack senses the turn in conversation. Jack sits up, looking, searching in Hotch’s eyes as he sniffles and wipes his face with the back of his hands. “I have to… We have to talk about something, buddy. About what’s been going on.”

Emily sits in the guest room and tries her best not to think about what’s going on in the living room. It was only a matter of time but… she couldn’t help but think maybe they could fix all this. It must be a matter of faulty testing. Surely, that must be the case. Hadn’t they already been through enough? Have they not lost enough?

Jessica sends her a text, Hotch isn’t answering his own phone.

Emily leaves her room, leaning out first just to see if they’re still talking. They’re not. The TV has been turned off, no sound.

Jack is curled into his father, clutching Hotch’s t-shirt in his little fist. Despite the dried tear tracks on his face, the boy looks at peace. His head tucked under Hotch’s chin and arms holding on tight, Hotch won’t be able to move without Jack noticing. Understandably, Jack has some apprehensions about his father leaving his sight.

“How’d he take the news,” Jessica asks. Her anger has melted, leaving her wilted in a puddle of emotions that she doesn’t even know where to begin to deal with. “I can’t--” she shakes her head. “I just can’t imagine it,” she whispers, glancing at Emily. “He’s so young,” she brushes her tears from her cheeks. “He can’t lose Aaron, too.”

She nods her head, she’s afraid to lose him as well. To be a child, though, living this as a reality that at any moment you might become an orphan… Jack’s only a child. He’s not even ten yet. What will he have to cling to? The cold nights come frequently and he’ll be alone. Surrounded by people but alone.

In London, there wasn’t a single moment she could step out and not get lost in crowds. It was the safest way to avoid detection. In those days, she’d clung to online Scrabble and read and rereading the letter Hotch had written her before she’d left. It was in the file with the other identities and money. While it had not been a technical element to the FBI’s idea of “everything” she might need it kept her alive.

On those cold night’s she’d curl into herself with her heating pad pressed against those old wounds and read his letter. Fingers ghosting over the ink and eyes taking in every detail. Where his hand wavered writing about Reid failing to cope. The stain of a tear beside Jack's name. Her favorite passage:

“I believe Ashley will try to leave the unit the next chance that she gets. You were her mentor and I’m afraid I have not offered her too much in claims to stake here. A part of me is partial to her staying. You were her mentor and she reflects that in the strangest moments. I hope she stays, I indulge myself in her rebellions against me. I think it reminds me of you.”

It never failed to make her smile. Take her back to the nights she’d drive home in a fit of rage or have arguments with her imaginations version of him in the shower. Cursing like a sailor but telling him how she really felt.

What will Jack cling to when Hotch is not here?

@laiba-the-person, @emily-hottie-prentiss, @unionjackpillow, @clockedstar, @baumarvel, @blakeprentiss, @qvid-pro-qvo, @aaron-hotchner187, @ssalavellan

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

Possibly a big ask to get just out of the blue but: what are your Supernatural season opinions? Which one is your favorite? Least favorite? Did you watch long enough to have showrunner opinions? If yes, which showrunner is your favorite and which is your least favorite? If no, which season that you haven't seen most tempts you to get back in the Supernatural trenches? Answer exactly as many of these questions as you want to. Carry on.

You know, I am not sure how long this Ask has been sitting here, because my Tumblr notifications are borked -- I hope not long? If long, I apologize, I wasn't ignoring it on purpose!

Okay, so I have more than the average number of Supernatural opinions, probably, but I'll try to keep this to a dull roar! Inside Me There Are Two Wolves: one of them believes that only the original five seasons of Supernatural are worth defending in any way, the other really, really loves seasons 11 and 12. The Kripke Era had a lot of problems, particularly in its treatment of women as bodies without agency and its treatment of Black men as literal predators, but also for all its flaws, it had a kind of coherence and narrative drive that comes from being the product of a dude who obviously cared about it and had something to say. Taken on its own, seasons 1-5 are a brutal and compelling story about the traumas of being men in a universe that's been absolutely destroyed by its Fathers: on almost every level, it's about these abandoned and brutalized boys discovering that their entire reality is the product of an abandoning and brutalizing God, populated by authority figures who are universally demanding and arrogant, but also completely fucking useless. It's quite literally about Sam and Dean trying to hang onto their souls and their own agency when everyone around them wants them forced into shapes formed by conflicts that fell into place at the beginning of time. It's hard to remember, but back then even the Lucifer plotline was about that! It was about the damage fathers inflict on sons! Things were about things, in the Kripke era!

Then we get to the Gamble era, and. Woof. I actually -- don't hate 6 and 7? Like everything Sera Gamble touches, those two seasons are kinetic and memorable and funny and weird and hit some really, really great emotional beats. There are Some Problems, but Gamble was saddled with a pretty dire job, trying to find a way forward after everything about the series really had effectively wrapped up in Swan Song, and I think she did an okay job. People got mad at her for killing Castiel, but you know, damn, I give her this: that was a storyline. Like, this character who was fresh out of the cult he was raised in becoming disillusioned by how messy normal life is and deciding that maybe people need better authoritarianism instead -- the way he's driven to take too many risks by the fact that he's abandoned and desperate -- Crowley as a legitimately scary villain while still being charming af -- and the tragic resolution of Castiel being torn apart by both his hubris and his heroism. It's actually really good. I understand why people didn't want what Gamble was serving up -- and I'm able to like it because it was undone later, you know? -- but she really did commit to a full season of character arc and saw it all the way through to an earned ending, and I gotta respect that.

I genuinely hate seasons 8 and 9. I think everyone is a dick, particularly but not exclusively Dean, to the point where I just find it a bummer to watch. I mean, you get Benny, and I love Benny. You get, I dunno, bits and bobs of decent episodes, but overall they are very fucked up seasons in my opinion. So Carver era is on thin fucking ice with me, but I do think you start to get a rebound in season 10 with the Mark of Cain stuff, although I wish they'd managed to keep Cain around longer. All the really good Claire stuff starts happening, which is nice because Claire, but also because for once the show is really letting itself go back and deal with the mess these protagonists leave behind them constantly. Castiel and Claire have maybe the most interesting non-Winchester relationship on the show. Oh, and Rowena shows up around here too, right? Love her. So the back half of Carver, 10 and 11, are starting to really gain traction for me. The world is building outward, secondary characters are starting to be genuine characters in their own right, the politics of Heaven and Hell get a little richer and more interesting. The show is really starting to feel like it takes place in a universe, which is great because we love the Frigging Winchesters, but they shouldn't be the only thing going, right? We have 15 seasons to get through! Season 11 is basically bracketed by what are probably my two favorite Supernatural episodes: Baby and Don't Call Me Shurley. (I think I'm the world's only living Metatron fan; I fucking love that little dude.)

Dabb takes over in 12, and I really, really, genuinely love season 12. I fucking love Mary. There are so many episodes I adore -- Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox is a special favorite of mine, and I remain pissed off that the Banes twins never made it to recurring status, bluntly that feels wildly racist to me -- probably the best three-episode streak in the show is Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets to Regarding Dean to Stuck In the Middle (With You), three just almost perfect episodes. So I was poised to really love the Dabb era. I wanted to! My body was ready!

And I do really love the first chunk of season 13, the Widow Winchester arc. Obviously I'm a romantic, love that for me, but it's just also really good? The acting, the writing, the psychological complexity of Dean wanting Jack to be Bad so he has an outlet for his anger and Sam wanting Jack to be Good so he can retroactively parent himself and raise a Lucifer-tainted child who isn't crippled by self-loathing. Billie's great, and it looks like she's going to start being one of the major powers of the universe. Unfortunately -- with the occasional exception of this or that solid episode -- that's kind of the end of Pretty Good Supernatural. Season 13 kind of unravels; season 14 always feels like it's looking for itself (which is a bummer, because I wanted very much to care about Michael); season 15 is, idk. Idk about any of it, it's all pretty pointless. I feel bad complaining on some level, because the show's been on for like fourteen years at this point! It's kinda justified in feeling a little worn out. But the reality is that the later seasons systematically undo all the expansion that had excited me earlier -- the Wayward Sisters crew pretty much vanishes when the spinoff isn't picked up, Naomi and the angels stop doing anything, Crowley's gone, Mary's gone for much of it. We're just kind of futzing around with monsters who don't seem to matter (very much including Lucifer, who hasn't mattered in ages) and a lot of Jack, who. I try not to shit all over, because I know he's a popular character, but I find him just ungodly boring. Everything in the last two and a half season just feels like it's headed nowhere in particular, and also it bored me. The Empty deal is just sadness porn; it doesn't have any resonance or meaning in terms of Castiel's character, it's just him agreeing to die for his kid, which is okay, it means he's a loving dad, which he is, but there's no conflict there, ergo no real drama. It's just mean; it happens because it'll make us sad, and no other reason. Rowena is the only strong secondary character left, and her ending also doesn't feel particularly relevant to her, it's just a generic Sacrifice to Save the World. Everything just feels like they're autogenerating plotlines, rather than letting the actual needs and drives of the characters shape the narrative. So while I have this weird split personality with Carver where I either hate what he's doing or I love it, most of the Dabb era is just. There. It doesn't make me feel anything except kind of tired and embarrassed. Which is a bummer, because I have an inexplicable fondness for Dabb, probably just because of how much I love s12. I wanted to love his seasons! I did love his first season! I feel like maybe something happened when the CW rejected Wayward Sisters? I know that was kind of his darling, and it feels like maybe losing that kind of sucked the joy out of him, and he's kind of checked-out by the end. That's genuinely just my guess, however.

That's Professor Milo's Intro to Supernatural Studies, don't forget to fill out your course survey on the way out!

[dweetwise]

have a semi-rushed riconti one shot because i couldn’t not write them for valentine’s day 💕

ship: ace x felix warnings: none word count: 4180

The problem with secret admirers

Holidays usually weren't something the survivors had the luxury of celebrating.

The occasional seasonal decorations in trials along with some ridiculous, thematical outfits seemed more like a sign of their Eldritch captor's morbid sense of humor than evidence of the passing of time. But sadly, lacking calendars and all, it was the most accurate estimate they had.

So when the Entity plopped down some fireworks and talismans on the generators to proclaim the Chinese new year, it barely affected any of them.

Yui and Feng seemed more on edge than usual, the decorations crude imitations of the festivities they were used to back home. Adam had told the group about the year of the ox and the Chinese zodiac, the teacher donning a new hoodie he’d received for the occasion.

For Ace, the holiday meant nothing more than looting as many firecrackers as he could manage, along with making questionable “horny” jokes to the few killers that had received ox-themed outfits.

But in the midst of the survivors' celebration or lack thereof, they'd completely forgotten about another well-known February celebration.

When Ace returns from a successful trial and goes to stash yet another firecracker into his generous collection of items, he immediately notices something that doesn't belong.

Inside the trunk, on top of the organized chaos that is his pile of items and add-ons, lies a note.

Curiously unfolding the piece of paper, Ace makes out somewhat messy handwriting on a worn piece of paper.

'Your smile lights up the room'.

“Oh, ha ha, very funny,” Ace says, turning to face the small group of survivors by the campfire.

“Huh? What's up?” Steve perks up, others following suit and turning to watch the spectacle.

“Someone left me a little prank note,” Ace says, rolling his eyes and flicking the slip of paper over his shoulder.

“What?” Claudette says with a frown, immediately reaching for the discarded note.

“What does it say?” Cheryl asks curiously, coming up beside the botanist.

“'Your smile lights up the room,'” Claudette reads.

“Aww, that's adorable!” Kate exclaims. “A Valentine's day card!”

“The joke being that we're continually outdoors,” Ace explains. “Meaning my smile does jack shit.”

“Are you sure? Maybe they meant figuratively,” Claudette gently prods.

“Yes Claudy, I'm sure I'm not getting mystery love notes,” Ace snorts at the incredulous suggestion, before turning back to the others. “Come on, whose idea was it? Fess up!” he demands, looking over the group

When nobody makes a move to come clean, others also looking around in confusion, Ace eventually focuses his stare on Nea, Meg and Feng, the trio of troublemakers sitting together by the fire.

“The hell you looking at me for?” Nea cusses.

“That’s lame as fuck,” Meg agrees.

“I'm tempted to make one now just so you’ll see—” Feng starts.

“That's a great idea! We should all make Valentine's day cards for each other!” Kate suggest, missing the gamer's point entirely.

“Look, there's a drawing too!” Cheryl suddenly exclaims, pointing at the back of the mystery note still in Claudette’s hands.

Ace sighs and leans over to look, fully expecting a doodled caricature of himself or even a crude phallic sketch.

Instead, he finds a pretty good drawing of some sort of flower. It’s not perfect, but it looks like someone clearly put a lot of work into it.

“It's a clover,” Claudette informs, glancing up at Ace with a smile. “No doubt for luck, even if it doesn't have the iconic four leaves.”

“Uh. Maybe,” Ace says, a little taken aback at the information. Someone really went through a lot of effort just for a small prank.

“So? Who's it from?” Steve asks impatiently.

“It still doesn’t say, Steve,” Cheryl sighs in irritation.

“I mean, Jeff and Jane are the artists,” Quentin points out.

“Uh-huh, sure, Jeff would draw a flower card for Ace and not his botanist girlfriend,” Meg snorts, making Claudette duck her head bashfully.

“And Jane—" Steve starts, excitedly turning to the former talk show host.

“No,” Jane interrupts the teen. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but hell no.”

“No offense taken, sweetheart,” Ace grins good-naturedly, the cheesy flirt making the woman grimace.

“What about Bill?” Nea suggests out of the blue.

“What the hell are you on, kid?” Bill snorts, and even Ace has to bite back a laugh over the thought of the gruff veteran writing love letters.

“Just trying to think of someone in his age range!” Nea protests.

“Well, did anyone see anything?” Quentin asks. “We can’t all have been in a trial when the note was placed.”

“I’ve been in like three trials today,” Feng complains.

“I don’t think any of us really keep track of people at the fire,” Kate says. “Anyone could have walked by and put it there.”

“Aww, so we’re not gonna know who it was?” Steve frowns.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Jane says.

As the commotion seems to die down, Claudette hands back the note back to Ace.

“You should keep it. It seems you have a secret admirer, after all,” Claudette says, smiling.

“Guess it can’t hurt,” Ace says, reluctantly pocketing the card. He’s still not sure it's genuine, but is intrigued by the sudden turn of events nonetheless.

Surprisingly, it seems the kids aren’t quite ready to give up on finding out the culprit. Some time later, Ace sees Cheryl, Steve and Quentin huddle together by one of the tree stumps, Cheryl looking to be taking notes on a map.

“Did you ask the ones who just got back?” Cheryl asks.

“Yup! Steve says. “Jeff was mostly confused, and David laughed his ass off. Laurie said she hadn't seen anything weird before she got taken to the trial. And Tapp just looked like he'd lost all hope for humanity,” Steve summarizes.

“Sounds about right,” Quentin huffs.

“Okay, so we've ruled out us three, Laurie, Jeff, Claudette, Jane, Bill, Tapp and David,” Cheryl recaps.

“And Nance has Jonathan, and Felix has his girlfriend,” Steve reminds.

“We should definitely rule out Nea too, since she’s way younger than him,” Quentin says. “Meg and Feng too, I guess."

“You're right, they always bully Ace too,” Steve casually remarks.

Ace rolls his eyes behind his shades and keeps shuffling his cards, not understanding why the group is so hell bent on talking about him like he’s not even there.

“Oh, and Yui,” Cheryl says.

“Good point,” Quentin says.

“Huh? Why?” Steve asks, confused.

“She, uh…” Cheryl falters. “Girl talk. I know it's not her.”

“Okay!” Steve beams.

And that pretty much sums up Ace's expectations for their little operation to succeed. If Steve somehow still hasn't figured out that the Japanese woman is solely interested in other women, Ace doesn’t have much trust in his detective work.

“Kate?” Cheryl suggests.

“She’s making Valentine’s cards for all of us as we speak,” Quentin snorts. “I don’t think she’d play favorites.”

“What about Dwight?” Steve suggests.

“Well… it’s definitely awkward and weird enough to fit his MO,” Cheryl considers.

“I thought he was into Jake?” Quentin says.

And that’s about the time Ace tunes out and goes to bug Tapp to play cards with him, hoping the detective will be happy to pretend like this entire thing never happened.

Ace doesn’t know how long it is before he’s finally taken to a trial, but it feels like an eternity. The atmosphere around camp is awkward as people trickle in and out from trials and someone always feels the need to point out he was on the receiving end of an anonymous person’s affection. The reactions, unsurprisingly, range from awkward confusion to straight up laughter.

So when the fog finally surrounds Ace, he actually welcomes it. The familiar sight of the Autohaven gas station is enough to take his mind off the teasing back at camp, at least momentarily.

But another problem presents itself right as he rounds a corner of scrap and finds Élodie on a generator—

“Hey, come here often?” Ace jokes, crouching down next to the machine to get to work.

—And the woman immediately gets up to leave.

“It wasn’t me, so don’t get any ideas,” Élodie scowls in his direction.

“Huh? I didn’t—” Ace tries to explain, but she’s already taking off in a sprint, and Ace thinks he hears her mutter “creep”.

Ace sighs and barely resists the urge to bash his face against the generator in frustration. This day just keeps getting better.

To Ace’s utter delight—that is to say, absolute annoyance—his mystery admirer becomes the biggest source of entertainment for the survivors. He doesn’t mind playing along for the first few jabs at his expense, thinking the others will surely get bored after just a few hours.

They don’t.

Most of the group still seem determined to figure out the person behind the note, others are content to gossip and joke about the possibilities, and some go as far as to blame Ace for intentionally stirring up drama. His not-so-subtle suggestions to let it go are shrugged off, and after a few days, Ace resigns himself to his fate and figures the sooner he lets the whole thing sort itself out, the better.

It doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.

To add insult to injury, even the killers seem to have a sudden hard-on for him, focusing Ace with single-minded determination every chance they get.

It's only a few days later, when the Pig kneels down Ace's prone form to place a trap on his head, that he realizes why.

“There you go, lover boy,” the woman's voice sounds mocking despite being muffled by her mask.

“Wah?” Ace asks, the device attached to his jaw making it hard to speak.

“I heard someone has a little admirer,” the Pig says. “I figured it warrants some special treatment.”

The word is accentuated by throwing Ace up on a hook, and the gambler's following scream is as much from pain as it is from frustration.

When Ace gets back to the campfire after having his head popped by the killer’s trap, he sits down on a log furthest from the group, hoping to get a breather—

“Hey, look who it is!” Ash immediately interrupts his moment of solitude, sitting down uninvited next to Ace. “How you doing, champ?” Ash grins, elbowing him in the side.

“What do you want?” Ace asks, feeling much more irritable than usual because of the constant teasing.

“I mean…” Ash says, before looking around and lowering his voice. “Have you figured out who it is?”

Ace rolls his eyes and resists the urge to slap the man with his own prosthetic hand.

“Come on, you can tell me!” Ash grins in a very suspicious way.

“If I find out, you’ll be the first to know. Trust me,” Ace whispers, lying out of his ass.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Ash laughs, way louder than necessary. “I’m happy for you; at least someone around here will be getting laid!”

Half of the camp erupts into snickers and the other half turns to glare at Ace, notifying him that their conversation was definitely loud enough to overhear.

“Not in front of the children!” Jane sneers, like Ace enjoys having his sex life publicly broadcasted.

“Oh, would you look at that!” Ace quips with fake cheer as fog starts creeping up his legs, thankful for the Entity’s timing even though he barely got back to the campfire. “Time for another trial!”

When the fog clears from around him, Ace is in the killer shack in Red Forest with Cheryl and Felix right beside him.

“I'm gonna go find Zarina,” Cheryl whispers to Ace, informing him of who their last teammate is.

“Sure,” Ace says, knowing it’s good to split up, as Felix has already started repairs on the generator in the shack—

“I need to privately ask her about the note!” Cheryl beams and is sprinting away before Ace can reply.

Which is just as well, because he might have said a few choice words to the kid through his annoyance. Thankfully, he's left with Felix, one of the few people who have treated Ace normally throughout this entire thing.

“Fuck this,” Ace curses, joining the handsome German on the generator. Felix glances up but doesn't ask, and Ace appreciates being given the space to rant. “This is the worst thing that's ever happened!”

“The note?" Felix asks.

“What else? It seems it's all anyone ever talks about!” Ace rages, throwing one of his hands up in frustration and nearly causing the machine to explode. “I swear, this is worse than middle school,” Ace huffs. “I have girls gossiping, kids pestering and killers bullying me. And for what? A shitty piece of paper!”

Damn, it feels good to get this out. Ace doubts Felix cares, but it's nice to get to vent to someone he knows won't make the situation worse.

“Whoever left the note must be an idiot,” Felix comments bluntly, and it gives Ace pause.

Sure, Ace is frustrated, but he's still a little sentimental over the note and cute gesture behind it. Regardless, he shouldn’t be surprised that the no-nonsense architect would find the notion ridiculous.

“I'm just so done with it,” Ace sighs. “At this point, I'd take any explanation. Even an 'oops, wrong trunk, it was never meant for you'. Sure, I like being in the spotlight, but this is getting unbearable.”

Felix doesn't say anything, only keeps working away; probably embarrassed being forced to discuss Ace's (lack of) love life.

“I—” Felix starts after an awkward silence.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” Ace interrupts with a chuckle, not wanting the German to be any more uncomfortable than he already clearly is. “Didn't mean to talk about ear off about this stuff. Let's get this gen done, huh?”

Felix immediately seems relieved, and Ace jumps at the chance to change topics.

“You ever been to China?” Ace asks, nodding at the firework decoration on top of their generator.

As they chat about one of Felix's business trips to Shanghai, Ace is simultaneously glad for a distraction from his Valentine's fiasco and melancholy about their shallow friendship.

Maybe he'd take this whole thing more seriously if there was any possibility it would actually lead to something with the one person he's even remotely interested in. If Ace was in his prime, he'd probably have made a move on Felix months ago, girlfriend and heterosexuality be damned. Young and reckless Ace wouldn't have cared, happily flirting his ass off.

Meanwhile, old and slightly less reckless Ace has to settle for shitty jokes and sneaking glances at Felix.

When the Ghostface finally makes an appearance during their second generator and proceeds to chase and tunnel Ace to death despite the others' best efforts to save him, Ace isn’t even surprised anymore.

“I'm starting to wonder if the note is even legit,” Quentin says one day.

“How come?” Kate asks, cocking her head.

“Don't you think Ace's secret admirer would have come clean by now?" Quentin prods.

“Maybe it was just the Entity messing with us?” Laurie suggests.

“If it was a prank from someone, I’m kinda proud of them for pulling it off,” Nea says. “Especially for this long!”

“I think it’s mean,” Claudette says. “They’ve allowed this to go on for way too long. Just look at poor Ace!”

Everyone turns to collectively look at Ace, who is just trying to play some goddamn solitaire in peace while the rest, again, seem content to talk about him like he’s not even there.

“He looks the same as always,” Meg snorts.

“He’s been tunneled to death the last then trials in a row,” Laurie scolds.

“I’m fine,” Ace insists.

“I think his secret fan is just shy!” Kate continues and sparks another debate, oblivious to Ace’s annoyance.

When Ace gets back from yet another unsuccessful trial and sees a group of gossiping people and a grinning Nea, he groans in exasperation.

Before anyone can bring up Ace’s least favorite subject, Felix butts in.

“Ace,” Felix addresses, coming up beside the group. “Do you have time to teach me that perk you used the other trial? With the longer aura-reading?”

“You want… one of my perks?” Ace asks, surprised.

Felix has always seemed more altruistic than others, and it’s no secret Ace's perks were only used by… Well, Ace.

“Um, yes. If it’s not a bother,” Felix says, discreetly glancing at the group of gossip-hungry survivors waiting to attack Ace’s misery.

And it dawns on Ace that Felix is giving him a distraction to slip away.

“Oh, of course!” Ace grins. “Right this way!”

As soon as they’re out of earshot from the campfire, Ace starts prattling away.

“Thanks for covering for me!” Ace beams. “I thought they’d have gotten bored by now—"

“It was me,” Felix interrupts grimly, making Ace pipe down and turn to look at him.

“Uh… come again?” Ace asks, confused.

“I did it. I wrote the note,” Felix confesses, looking at Ace in determination.

“What? Why?” Ace asks, incredulous. When Felix's bravado falters, he keeps going. “Look, you don't have to cover for whoever it was,” Ace sighs. “I don’t blame you for wanting this entire thing to be over—"

“I'm serious,” Felix says. “I've been lying for way too long. I should have come clean before, but I was too much of a coward.”

Alright, what the actual fuck? Why would Felix, of all people, have sent Ace a love note?

While he’s gaping stupidly, Felix continues:

“Claudette was right, it’s my fault for letting this go on for so long. I’m sorry.”

“But… your girlfriend—” Ace starts, struggling to wrap his head around the whole thing.

“Will hopefully move on once she realizes I'm not coming back,” Felix says. “I've started to accept that I'm not getting out of here.”

“Well, that sounds cheerful,” Ace comments.

“Sheiße, I didn't mean it like that,” Felix winces. “I just… thought I'd do things differently this time. Since I never had the courage to, in my old life.”

“So… where do I come into the picture?” Ace asks, skeptical.

“I…” Felix says, wringing his hands in a nervous gesture. “Wanted to see how you would react to the note. It was stupid.”

“Huh? How come?”

“I caused you nothing but harm,” Felix sighs. “First you thought I was mocking you, then the others kept bothering you, and even the killers were giving you a hard time. I'm sorry, I should never have done it.”

“No, I mean—” Ace flounders for an explanation. Sure, he'd been annoyed, but none of the things that happened were Felix’s fault. “Why give something like that to me?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Felix says, scratching at his neck while averting his eyes. “I admit I haven't celebrated Valentine's day much, but I assumed…” he trails off.

What? Felix was seriously trying to test the waters of… getting together with Ace?

It slowly starts to make sense. Felix’s strange behavior. The messy handwriting on the note, probably from Felix’s nerves. The surprising artistic talent of the sketch, after a lifetime of architectural drawings.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Ace says with a smirk, not able to keep the cockiness from seeping into his voice at the knowledge that Felix, somehow, seems to be interested in him.

“Sorry—”

“I said unexpected, not unwelcome,” Ace interrupts.

And then gets to watch the realization slowly dawn on Felix, the perpetual worried frown on the other’s face smoothing out as his eyes widen in hope.

“You don't mind?” Felix asks.

“Let's just say I'm surprised you haven't caught me looking,” Ace grins. “I never expected someone as handsome as you to return the attention,” he can't resist flirting.

“Ähm, well, I…” Felix flusters from the compliment, looking at the ground. “Am not very good at this.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ace says.

Then, he reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out the infamous note he’s kept on him this entire time. Felix’s gaze follows his movement as Ace carefully unfolds the paper, crumpled and smudged from having been with him trial after trial.

“I thought you threw it away,” Felix says quietly, eyes wide in awe.

“You don’t just throw away a good luck charm,” Ace chastises playfully, pointedly brushing his thumb over the clover drawing. “Especially not one that’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time.”

Ace bites his tongue to stop prevent more mushy sentiments from slipping out. Felix is still staring way too intently and not saying a word, so Ace clears his throat self-consciously tucks the note safely back into his pocket.

“I can’t believe you kept it,” Felix finally says, an adorable smile on his lips as he meets Ace’s eyes.

“Well, seeing as we’ve now established that we’re both sentimental saps…” Ace starts with a smirk, stepping closer to Felix to test the waters. “I have a question.”

“Oh, umh… Yes?” Felix says, straightening his back but still seeming nervous.

It's adorable, and Ace wants to kick himself for not noticing anything sooner. Still, there's no time like the present.

“Be my valentine?” Ace asks with a grin.

Felix's posture instantly relaxes, and the smile is back on his face.

“I'd love to,” Felix says.

Ace’s grin widens until he feels like it’ll be permanently etched onto his face. This is a much better outcome than he ever expected when he found an unassuming note with his items.

“So, ehm…” Felix starts after they’ve been staring at each other for a beat too long, snapping Ace out of it. “Do you… should we…?” Felix falters, nervously brushing a stray lock from his face.

“Wanna find a place to sit down and chat?” Ace suggests, not feeling any need to rush things now that he knows where they stand with each other. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a break from the others.”

“Me too,” Felix says, seeming relieved. “I admit I’m not looking forward to what the others will say about this.”

“Fuck em!” Ace says. “They’ve had their fun, I’m not gonna let them put you through the same shit as they did me. We don’t even have to tell them.”

“No, I want to,” Felix insists. “If I have to hear one more rude joke about you from Feng…” Felix’s mouth pinches into a thin line.

“Aww, babe,” Ace teases, the pet name slipping out before he can stop it. “You don’t have to defend my honor.”

“I do, and I will,” Felix says with surprising determination.

“Well, in that case, I won’t stop you,” Ace grins.

“Good,” Felix says with a smug little smirk.

And the sudden assertiveness makes heat creep up Ace’s neck, quickly starting to regret his suggestion to take things slow.

“I, uh, I think I saw a pretty cozy clearing not far from here,” Ace says, eager to get the chance to get to know more about his companion.

“Lead the way,” Felix agrees.

They end up sitting next to each other under the stars and talking for what has to be hours, but goes by in the blink of an eye. No longer having to filter himself and keep their conversation casual is a much-needed break from the past few days, and the smile never once leaves Ace’s face.

Talking to Felix makes the feelings Ace has tried so hard to ignore come back full force, reminding him of why the man caught his eye in the first place. Sure, Felix is still more attractive than anyone has the right to be, but he’s also insanely smart and surprisingly witty past the initial anxious exterior. The way he smiles and gives his undivided attention even when Ace talks about silly, insignificant things not only makes Ace forget all about his recent frustrations, but also takes his mind away from the strange world surrounding them.

And when Felix eventually scoots even closer and looks at Ace with nothing but fondness in his eyes, Ace has no trouble throwing his initial hesitance out of the window and going in for a kiss.

It’s not earth-shattering or particularly intense, it’s just really, really nice and makes Ace’s heart do stupid leaps in his chest. It’s been so long since he even kissed anyone, and getting to smooch the person he’s been secretly pining over for months and have said person eagerly return the kiss?

“Why the hell haven’t we done this sooner?” Ace voices his thought when he pulls away from the gentle kiss, making Felix huff a quiet laugh into their shared breathing space.

“I should have just signed the note,” Felix says.

“Good thing you can make it up to me now, Valentine,” Ace grins.

Felix chuckles warmly and a callused hand comes up to gently cup Ace’s cheek before tilting his head up into another kiss.

And even though Ace isn’t normally one for holiday celebrations, he’s looking forward to spending many more with Felix by his side.

[nade2308]

First Lines of Last 20....

Guidelines: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20,  just list them all.) Choose your favorite opening line, tag some friends!

Tagged by @impossiblepluto. Thanks friend!

(And just as always, I deviate from the mold and I give you more than just the first lines and/or my favorite lines 😈)

1. You don't know you are beautiful

Jack was so pissed. He was thrumming with nervous energy and was itching for a fight. Especially with that good for nothing, piece of shit, pretentious and pompous guy they were sent to retrieve because he had valuable intel the Phoenix stumbled upon by chance.

2. Catch you when you fall

Scott was always ready to push himself further, just that one step towards the tipping point. He thought if he went harder, and longer, that it will yield better results, but it wasn't always the case. That frustrated him even more and then he was angry at himself for doing that to himself and his friends. And to his dad. His dad who bent himself forwards and backwards to make sure Scott had everything he needed and more.

3. Coming home to you

You know that feeling when you want something so bad, but you have to wait for it? Yeah, Mac was feeling like that now. He was this close to losing it after the op ended. He couldn't wait to get back to Jack. Well, get back to Jack and get laid in the process.

4. "There's still time to change the road you're on"

Jack was in Texas for the birthday of his nephew and it just happened that his nephew was best friends with the kid of one of Jack's old flames. Well, more like a summer relationship, but seventeen year old Jack thought she was it. They had a thing that was actually cute and sweet. He took her out on dates at the local pizza place, and she took him to community events.

5. 98.Separated

Alina Chernyshevsky was a Russian scientist working at a lab in LA, on a scholarship who was kidnapped by a rogue crime group almost a week ago. The Phoenix was tasked with recovering her and capturing any of the members of the group they could find. It turned out that the son of a banker, the daughter of a businessman and the brother and sister, the kids of one of the most powerful Romanian crime groups had one thing in common. They wanted to get out from under the shadow that their parents put them in. So they formed their own union, and thanks to the ties Andrei Bogdan, their leader, had from his father's world, they quickly made their way up in the underground dark world. Climbing up the ladders, they did the odd jobs here and there, hits on important people for hire, and it was based on their combined knowledge of the finances, the system and the law, that they stayed undetected and under the radar for so long. Until Alina discovered some sample or another in the lab that was brought for testing and she made herself a target and was kidnapped in broad daylight.

6. Dye Hard

It wasn't like it was something he was dying to try. He was just looking at pictures of people with wonderfully done hair. Which happened to also be dyed in all the colors of the rainbow and more. It was just research. For an experiment. He was sure he was going to be told off again for experimenting so he kept it just to himself.

7. Sweet child o' mine

Riley woke up to the persistent ringing of her phone. She was having a very nice dream, drinking mai-tai's, at the Hilton Hawaiian Village, and now she was brought back to reality by the shrill tone of her phone.

8. Mac and Jack + softness

They had experienced bad missions before. It wasn't that uncommon, since almost every mission they worked on turned bad real fast. But there were some missions that took bad to the next level.

9. Jack + migraine + birthday

Mac was shivering even with the blanket wrapped around him. They were on their exfil flight, and the heat was on for his sake, but Mac's worry wasn't for himself, but for Jack. Jack, who was squinting at the bright sky and had his head tilted in an awkward angle because apparently he was hurting. And Mac had a pretty good idea what was the cause.

10. 9.Helpless

The drive back to Mac's place was a blur. Jack focused on the road and tried not to think of what they were told or the treatment that might have reversed all of their hard work on making Mac's hands heal and be okay.

11. 72.Painless

When Mac first noticed the car that was tailing him, he was several blocks away from Jack's place. They were supposed to have a movie night with the team, Jack already texted him to tell Mac that Riley was there with him.

12. 26.Flinch

Mac jerked away from the hand that was shaking his shoulder and immediately backed up to the corner of the bed. Someone was talking in a low voice, but Mac was still a bit disoriented and couldn't place the voice. Or the words.

13. 12.Confusion & 26. flinch

When Mac woke up, he could tell that something was different. There wasn't a creepy stare to watch over him, nor the blinking dot on the camera in the corner.

14. 5.Bruised

Jack let his kid take his fill by looking him up and down. Jack knew that he looked a little bit worse for wear, but that was normal in their line of work. This time however, it was from something else. And judging by the way Mac was eyeing him, he didn't manage to hide it well.

15. 56. Begging

Mac wanted to scream. It was hurting him to just breathe, but the pain was unbearable. He didn't know if the lash that caught his side, or the one that split the skin above the small of his back, hurt more.

16. Jack Sr. + Wrist Cuff

It takes all his willpower not to go back to the room he just vacated. He promised Riley and Mac that he'll take a break. It was nonnegotiable. Mac went so far as to tell him to go and take a good sleep. That Mac wasn't going to vanish again. He promised.

17. Fire Pit + Nightmares

Mac didn't know what woke him up. He's sure it was something and not a sound he made up in his dream. Mac turned around in bed and for a moment he was a bit disoriented. He blinked a few times and then looked at the digital watch on his nightstand. It was a little after 2am.

18. "Whenever your world starts crashing down, that's when you'll find me"

"Hours later (Jack's not sure about the time, he left his watch at home) the party is dying down. He is watching the night lights twinkling in the distance, mixed with lights from building windows, and homes and offices. LA is alive as always, traffic present even in this late hour. Everyone knows that NYC is the city that never sleeps, but Jack wants to argue how LA doesn't fall far behind the Big Apple. Especially since Jack has watched this city in all the times of day and night and can attest to that."

19. Si te doy mi corazón, lo tratarás con ternura

1. Tickling

Mac was studying for an exam and Jack was bored. It was one of those days. Really, there was a lot to be done in the house, and Jack barely had a time for himself and Mac these days, but on a rare night where he had absolutely nothing of importance to do… and Jack was bored. 

20. The Center of Their World

Mac was writhing in Jack's lap, and Jack moaned at the drag of Mac's cock against his hip as Jack had Mac's ass spread and a finger inside him already.  He instinctively backed up against the headboard of their ridiculously big bed, and threw his head out because the contact between him and Mac was explosive in the least.

Tagging: @sabbystarlight @82tweeder @dixons-mama @improvidus @panchostokes @erinsworld @nativestarwrites @kerkerian @starryhc @thesammykinz @dont-stop-believin-in-klaine @demonicsoulmates @rai-knightshade @telltaleclerk and whoever sees this and wants to do it, consider yourself tagged.

[thejudgingtrash]

Well. I’ve gotten quite the reactions to my hot takes//unpopular opinions. So here’s part two! For everyone new, here’s part one!

Percy radiates the blandest straight energy. I don’t see why you people think he’s bi

Hazel > Frank > (Leo > Piper) > Jason and that’s that story (Leo and Piper can switch positions)

Everyone giving Percy some heat for not realizing that Annabeth had a crush on him is fucking stupid. Shit is going down, he’s an insecure boy who got a lot of flag in a very short time by everyone in his environment and you think he’s supposed to dive nose deep into some coochie? Damn y’all are some horny bastards

People that still bash on Perachel (and I’m saying that as a hardcore Percabeth shipper) and harass those shippers should just walk out of the fandom

Hazel‘s background story is a gigantic fucking mess and should have been kept in the drafts

All the godships (Caleo, that whole Walt/Sadie/Anubis thing) across all series are trash

Jason’s death in TOA was cheap as fuck. He should’ve died in HOO and not as a side character in another bland sequel

People that don’t realize that Paul magically doesn’t erase/fix the abuse that Percy and Sally have suffered from are... fun. More on my stance on Paul here

Leo was always fucking annoying but pre-MOA Leo is someone we can deal with

Percy is the only dude with a beard and chest hair. Everyone else looks like they’ve glued three pubic hairs into their faces

Making Piper rely on the white man is a huge fucking no

The fact that every important kid/protagonist is a descendant from one of the 12 Olympians and not a kid from a minor god in the follow up series proves that neither the gods nor Rick Riordan have changed. Luke’s funky ass proves that even Riordan’s a douche in that regard

If you think that Percy is going to disrespect Sally in her own house by doing some intricate cooch research with Annabeth you are fucking mistaken

The musical as wonderful as it may be, isn’t canon. It’s another artist‘s interpretation of a work. Riordan giving it a thumbs up doesn’t mean jack. Using the musical as an argument is meh at best

People that ask in 2020 why Riordan‘s works are problematic are the same people that type ’Google‘ into Google

I can’t stress this enough but Annabeth’s favorite song is Red Solo Cup by Toby Keith

Pretty sure Annabeth’s hair equals a rats nest 90% of the time. Princess curls where? Is she hindering missions because she isn’t done with deep conditioning? Bitch is a walking mess!

The fact that both Underworld kids are time travelers that just seem to manage modern times all too fine is fucking stupid

Also people that are forgetting that Nico is Italian, not Italian-American are tiring. The likelihood of him understanding racial issues of Italians in the US are next to none

Also a bunch of people have accents and slang which would’ve made everything funnier

Riordan really loves to make his latinx characters bland and awful, huh?

Too many people lack basic reading skills part II

The fact that people are seriously fighting over the pronunciation of a shipping name/neologism is pathetic to the max. Pronounce it however you want. Who gives a shit? People disagreeing on something doesn’t hinder you in any way

On that note, Percabeth is an awful ship name. Why not choose Seaweed Brain? It was already there. It was a given. It was sweet and easy to digest

The only iconic female performer that Percy willingly listens to is Her Majesty Beyoncé Knowles-Carter

Meg is fucking annoying, more so than Leo

Same goes for Lavinia

Same goes for Alex Fierro from the bits I’ve read

The scavengerhunt plot that Riordan set up to mark Hera as the evil queen is the messiest and dumbest plot device of HOO. Periodt

Cecil Markowitz‘ portrayal is fucking racist

Same goes for Julia Feingold

Same goes for Samirah Al-Abbas

Hades would’ve never had kids outside of his marriage. Sorry team Nico & Bianca

The Trials of Apollo are so forgettable and bland I can’t recollect anything that happened apart from Jason being turned into kebab and missing lesbian rights for Reyna

Classisists coming for Riordan are morons at best. This series is meant for kids. As shitty as the gods are portrayed (and we all agree that the portrayal could’ve been waaaay better) there’s only so much one can do for a middle school audience. Also the gods aren’t the focus of the series. Shouldn’t you be happier about the fact that Riordan gets more kids interested in Greek Mythology?

On that note, Poseidon is a piece of shit and not the cool dad

Hellenistic polytheists have more reasons to be offended as Riordan bashed their views on their religion (sorry guys)

Everyone who is trying to erase Grover as Percy’s best friend deserves to get hit with a deadly chancla

That also goes for everyone that has no issues with applying racist canon to fanart (Piper with feathers, light eyes for poc, giving Annabeth Trump‘s tanning treatment)

Annabeth Chase is white

Percy and Jason aren’t friends. Idgaf.

Realistically speaking Thalia would’ve immediately dipped the hunters after Kronos funky ass got defeated

Pretty sure you would be able to smell a demigod from a mile away. When do these stinky bastards have the time to take a shower?

Annabeth needs some therapy with a focus on managing her aggressive outbursts. That judo flip wasn’t cute. The fuck.

Apart from that I still stan bold, unapologetical asshole Annabeth

Why are all the kids either dead poor or fucking millionaires? Does the middle class not exist? Will the next series in the Riordanverse be about the struggles of capitalism?

The tattoos from Camp Jupiter make absolutely no sense as Romans thought that tattoos are barbaric. And no, saying it’s a modern spin is fucking stupid especially when New Rome is build with the old rules, principles and ways in mind. Slave branding your child soldiers is a fucking no from me

New Rome having fucking child soldiers

The fact that all protagonists basically jump onto the praetor‘s position in little to no time is stupid. Why place the rule that you have to work your way up in the first place when you basically can just toss nickels at passerby’s and get the spot?

The Tower of Nero will be worse than Blood Of Olympus

[fairiesherefairiesthere]

Fraxus Anastasia au #6

With every chapter, we travel further and further away from Anastasia lmaooo. Anyway mdudes, here’s the ao3-link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23144866/chapters/58558978

Summary: Once Evergreen lays eyes upon a sign adorned with a quaint little symbol of a needle and thread, her gaze clears up and she enthusiastically points at it. "Look Laxus, isn't this exciting?" He frowns. "A clothes shop?" he asks and Evergreen gasps in offense. "Not just a clothes shop you dunce. This is one of the best tailors around!" 

"Nice, but I'm pretty sure we can't afford that." He isn't trying to put a damper on her mood, but he's realistic. "We can't, but our glucose father over there can", she says, puts on a friendly smile and waves at Freed who's out of earshot. Unable to hear their previous conversation, he waves back with a smile that's just as gentle and friendly. "Two weeks ago he couldn't afford breakfast and traintickets. There's no way he can shop at one of the best tailors now." 

Chapter below the cut!

A few days later, Laxus is back on his feet and fit for being dragged around (or so Freed rules). The first thing that happens to him after an awesome breakfast is Evergreen clamping his arm tightly and hauling him through the streets of the town they're in. By the way her eyes are scanning the building it's clear she's searching for something in particular, but because he has no idea what she's looking for, he quietly awaits his fate.

Once Evergreen lays eyes upon a sign adorned with a quaint little symbol of a needle and thread, her gaze clears up and she enthusiastically points at it. "Look Laxus, isn't this exciting?" He frowns. "A clothes shop?" he asks and Evergreen gasps in offense. "Not just a clothes shop you dunce. This is one of the best tailors around!"

"Nice, but I'm pretty sure we can't afford that." He isn't trying to put a damper on her mood, but he's realistic. "We can't, but our glucose father over there can", she says, puts on a friendly smile and waves at Freed who's out of earshot. Unable to hear their previous conversation, he waves back with a smile that's just as gentle and friendly. "Two weeks ago he couldn't afford breakfast and traintickets. There's no way he can shop at one of the best tailors now."

Evergreen shrugs. "Freed said that there was something wrong with the bank in the previous town, but he doesn't have the same issue here. I'm not going to question it, I'll run when it's time to run", she explains and Laxus has the feeling that the three of them have definitely done that before. "And who am I to complain?" she asks, twirling around and it's then that Laxus notices her new dress and jacket. It looks good on her and he tells her so. "Flatterer", she grins coyly, "You should try those charms on someone else."

Before he can ask on who he should use his "charms", she enters the tailor's, beckoning him to follow. The inside of the shop is very cosy, materials strewn about in an organised chaos. In the distance he can hear the rattling of a sewing machine and the rustling of fabric, coming together in a cacaphony of noises that isn't unpleasant to the ear. A smell reminiscent of the cosy type of dust (the smell of one's old aunties house) hangs in the shop and the entirety of the shop makes Laxus feel comfortable.

Then Evergreen strides over to an old lady in the back of the room, talking to her while gesturing in his direction. The older dame approaches him after Ever's finished her explanation, giving him a thourough once-over. "We could make something out of this", the old lady croons and after that a few dizzying hours follow.

Under Evergreen's watchful eye, as neither Bickslow nor Freed entered the tailor's with them, he's measured, pattern is formed, fitted, amended and fitted again. Evergreen and the old lady talk about patterns, fabrics, silhouettes and other things Laxus knows jack shit about. The whole ordeal is befitting of a royal he thinks, realising he is one and then coming to the conclusion that he feels unworthy of the treatment. He feels like a streetrat getting dolled up to enter a poodle competition. He isn't supposed to be here, these two will notice soon enough and there's no way that Laxus would ever convince anyone that he was a prince. To be honest, he doesn't know if he believes it himself.

"Are you nervous?" Evergreen asks when the old lady is fetching something in the back, eyes and voice piercing through his worries. At first he entertains the thought to lie to her, to tell her he isn't nervous at all. But something tells him that Evergreen wouldn't take kindly to being deceived and more importantly, that she'd see right through it. "Yes", he admits. "It'll only be so long before I meet my grandfather. We'll meet and then he'll see me for the dirt poor fraud of an orphan I am. The thought of meeting him makes me nauseous."

Evergreen's mouth falls open in a small, surprised 'o' and then her expression softens, a smile gracing her lips. "Silly." is all she says, before turning her attention back to her magazine. It's the bare minimum, but the certainty in her voice does a good job of warding of his worries. It's as though the idea of him not being the crown prince is entirely ridiculous to her, an absolute joke of an idea. She too, is an incredibly smart person and so he thinks he'll make the gamble. He'll trust her judgement. After all, Freed alluded to him that he and Ever used to be close. He hopes he can regain that bond, because he finds himself respecting her.

He wonders if he should tell Evergreen this and bravely ends up trying to. However, the words sound clumsy to his own ears and he winces through it. When he's done awkwardly putting his feelings out there in the cluttered, dusty tailor's shop, Evergreen merely stares at him. "Well that was an experience", she dryly states and Laxus hides his face in his hands. Then she throws her arms around him, giving him a hug. Because of her small stature, she's completely buried into Laxus chest. So understandably he has a bit of a hard time making out her words. "God, you're stupid", she says, words muffled. "You big oaf, I loved you when you were an insecure little thing, I'll learn to love you as this tree of a guy. Don't worry about our friendship being lost, it's still there. We'll continue were we left off and build something stronger."

"I'd like that", he says, voice surprisingly rough as he blinks away tears. In the back of his mind, he can sense the edges of memories. Almost smells the little bits of tangerine stuck underneath fingernails on sunny days, almost feels the past fussing over clothes and almost hears the reluctance in her voice while waking him up. Those moments are long gone though and his mind has seemingly erased them, leaving him chasing fragments and pieces now.

Evergreen retracts from the hug and smooths out the worried wrinkles in his forehead. "Don't dwell on the past too much, live in the present for a bit." Laxus mulls it over before shaking his head. "Aren't we all chasing my past together? You three seem to know my past self better than I do. I think I'm entitled to that knowledge too."

The mixture of sadness and fondness on her face morphs into an expression that Laxus can't quite place, but she tells him not to worry about it. "Well your royal highness, let's reunite you with that past then! And to do that, we'll put you in some nicer clothes because God knows no one will allow you to meet with the tsar otherwise."

Finally, they're done. As they exit the tailor's, Laxus notices that neither of them has the clothes that were made for him. Confused, he asks Evergreen about them and Evergreen giggles. "They aren't finished yet, masterpieces like that take a few days. But no worries, we'll be hitting up more shops today. You won't be returning to the hotel with empty hands."

He cringes at those words. "I don't want anything really, I'd even be more comfortable if you didn't spend a single penny on me." Evergreen shrugs. "Too late for that." Then she glares at him and he winces, wondering what he did wrong. "Laxus, that attitude won't do!" she suddenly yells, attracting the attention of quite a few people in the streets. With hands that are none too careful, she turns him around so he's looking straight into a shop window. "What do you see?" she forcibly demands and he cringes as he takes a proper gander at his mirror image.

"A dirty young man, looks like he hasn't slept in years even though he did, someone who sticks out like a sore thumb, a guy who looks like he scavenges trash cans for food (not a pleasant experience, he recalls) and well, someone who looks like they've got a terrible character. The sort of person who'd bully kids for money, you know?"

The more he talks, the angrier Evergreen looks and so he just stops talking. "Sorry", he mumbles and Evergreen vehemently shakes her head. "No! You don't have to be sorry for a thing! It's hard to shake thoughts like those off." She takes a deep breath before going off again and Laxus wonders if she's had worries like his before.

"Laxus look at yourself again", she commands and so he does. "Straighten your back and put your chin up. I'm going to tell you something and I'll keep saying it until you believe it. You are Laxus Ivanov Dreyar, future tsar of Russia. You have the right to the throne and you have the right to look the part."

That part of the speech doesn't do anything but heighten his anxiety. Unaware of his rising turmoil, Evergreen continues. "But more importantly, you're genuinely a nice person. You're kind, honest and funny. You won't take shit from the most annoying of people, so please don't allow shit from yourself either. You're a good person and you're allowed to be proud of that. You have the right to be proud of just being you. I know you're feeling a lot of pressure to be someone high and mighty, like how you think a royal should act. But rest assured, the person you're travelling to meet knows you and has no such expectations for you. He merely wants his grandson back and he'll recognise you without a doubt. Please be kind to the self you think of as inadequate. You, Laxus, are a person worth of love of both other people and yourself."

She gives him a pat on the shoulder, firm and reassuring. Blinking away stubborn tears he nods. "I'll try to erhm, work on it", he says, because that's all he's got for now. "I'll beat it into your skull", Evergreen gently threatens, holding up a fist. "I look forward to it", he jokes and she shakes her head in amusement. "I'll hold you to it."

They continue their walk through the streets, hopping into shops that seem significantly less expensive than the taylor's and it makes Laxus feel more at ease. Comfortable with the reasonable pricing, he doesn't feel quite as ashamed browsing through items, scanning them with his eyes. "You can try them on, you know", Evergreen says with a light tone, holding a pink dress in front of her own body. "You think this colour suits me?" she asks, involving him more in the process. "Dunno", he says honestly, aware of his own... interesting sense of fashion.

"What do you think would look pretty on me?" Completely out of his depth, Laxus scans the store before pointing at a red dress with a leopard print and a furry neck- and bottomline. It is adorned with a studded purple belt with yellow details. It's colourful, he thinks and the yellow of the belt and the leopard print complement each other, right? Because leopards are yellow and all that.

"I wanted to buy whatever you pointed at to erase your awkwardness about buying things, but there's no way I will even look at that monstrousity for a second longer." Dejected, he pouts a bit. Surely it wasn't that bad?

It's then that he lays eyes on the biggest, clunkiest, warmest-looking jacket he's ever seen in his life. When he rubs the fabric between his fingers, he's ninety percent sure that it's real leather. That stuff lasts ages and honestly, he'd kill for a jacket that'd last him longer than a few weeks. He's had to brace enough winters without jackets because they simply were too worn-out when the cold really started to appear.

When she catches him staring, Evergreen moves over to look at what exactly he's looking at. Laying eyes on the jacket, she lets out a little pleased hum. "You know what? That's actually not terrible, take it." Aware of his lingering hesitation, she rolls her eyes and pulls it off the rack. Holding it in front of his body, she squints her eyes. "This'll fit fine, I'm going to pay for it." Just like that, she moves to the cashregister and before Laxus knows it, he has a bag with a new jacket in it. As they exit the store, Laxus notices that Evergreen has also donned a similar jacket. "It's comfortable!" she defends herself and Laxus shoots her a smug look. "Sure, whatever you say. I won't judge you if you admit to me having a superior sense of fashion."

"Never in a million years", she shoots back and he gives her a firm headpat, messing up her updo. "Sure, sure", he says as she squeaks in indignation. They run into Bickslow and Freed as they round a corner and immediately Evergreen throws her arms around Freed, whining about how she's being bullied. Freed gives her a pat on the back. "To quote a wise woman: With the way you're acting, you deserve to be", he says cheekily and laughs as Evergreen sputters. "You're supposed to take my side", she pouts. "Don't worry, I'm not taking the other guy's side either. I'm a completely neutral force." At that, Bickslow snorts. "Freed, you haven't been neutral, ever."

"Maybe there's some semblance of truth in that", he says before turning his attention to Laxus. "So, how did the shopping trip go?" Clumsily, Laxus retrieves the jacket from the bag and shows it to Bickslow and Freed. Under Freed's scrutinising gaze, he feels the need to explain himself. "It's warm."

"Why don't you put it on then?" Freed asks, "We can't have you being sick again." As Laxus does so, Freed momentarily takes the bag from him. As soon as the bag is deposited in his hands, Freed frowns and looks inside. "You guys really didn't buy anything but a jacket. Where are the casual pants, shoes and shirts? Gloves and a scarf for when it gets colder? A lighter jacket?"

Evergreen winces. "We we're getting there", she retorts and Freed raises one eyebrow. "You've been walking around for six hours." Handing the empty bag back to Laxus, he tells them to go get some food. "I'll handle the rest of it", he sighs, "because I truly do not think you guys will be able to put together a few outfits in the few hours that remain of this day. Go eat and have some fun instead. We'll be leaving this town soon, after all."

At first, Laxus's a bit miffed that Freed is treating him like a child, but then he's halfway through a really good local dish and he thinks it's alright. The stress of prices probably would've prohibited him from actually buying anything and from what he's seen, Freed knows how to dress well. Bickslow also said that they all should try one of the hotsprings the town has to offer. Because he's never been to one before, Laxus is pretty excited to try it. He's having fun, he realises as he watches Bickslow and Evergreen bicker over the shape of a potatoe.

After dinner, they lounge in their hotelrooms for a bit, waiting for Freed to return. When he eventually does, he as a few bags, a suitcase and a box with him. On the box Laxus recognises the same design as the one he saw on the tailor's sign. "She finished it early, because she was very enthusiastic about the project." Setting all the materials on the floor, Freed opens the sturdy leather suitcase.

"This will last you a while", he explains as he neatly folds the clothes and puts them in the suitcase. From what Laxus can see, there's more colour in there than he expected, but he'll trust Freed's judgement. They continue to peacefully exist beside each other until Bickslow throws himself onto the bed with a dramatic sigh.

"I can't take this anymore!" he yells, "it's tubby time!" Freed blinks owlishly, packing up the last clothes as Bickslow rolls off the bed, demanding attention by depositing his head in Freed's lap. "I demand that we visit the hotsprings."

"Do you now? We'll be leaving early in the morning, I think it's better if we go to bed instead." That makes sense, but it does make Laxus deflate a little bit. He had been looking forward to it after all. When he decides to stop moping and looks up, he catches Freed looking at him with an expression that could almost be fondness. "I won't be held accountable for your tiredness tomorrow", Freed says as he gets up from the floor and Evergreen and Bickslow cheer in unison.

They have to walk a little while to get to that specific hot spring, but Laxus doesn't mind. The night has coloured the sky dark, but the skies are clear so a million stars can be spotted. It's breathtaking. He thinks he's never felt more at peace in his whole life.

The sound of heels clacking on the cobblestone catches both his and Freed's attention. He doesn't recognise the woman looking at them, but the shift in Freed's expression tells Laxus that the other man definitely does. "Whatever happens, just play along", he hisses loud enough so Evergreen and Bickslow can hear it too. Unsure of what's happening, Laxus nods.

"Al, my dear boy is that you?" the woman asks, slowly stepping closer. A streetlantern catches her in its glow and Laxus is caught off guard by the smooth green hair that falls oh so daintily over her shoulders, combined with the striking blue of her eyes. This woman is one of wealth, she seems like the epitome of nobility. Freed gives the woman a curtsy and motions behind his back for them to do the same. "Lady mother", he politely greets her back.

[thespermicidaljellies]

Today I've officially lost 32 pounds since June

This March, I weighed 175 pounds. That is absolutely insane for my frame. Between May 2019 and March 2020, I went from my normal weight of 138-143 pounds all the way down to 117 during Lyme disease treatment, then all the way up to 175 due to an assortment of pill cocktails to try to get me back on my feet. I am a small guy, I wore XS button ups before this. These clothes are from a neatly folded pile in my closet that I wasnt even close to fitting anymore. Everyone said toss them out, but it was low key a big deal to me (still dont fit in some). My dad is a gigantic ogre so I've got a tall guy build but compacted down form manlet, but, my body could not handle a 60 pound fluctuation in weight while living mostly on my back or in a computer chair for a year and a half. I look a lot more rugged now, in a worn, gas station attendant way. My face has changed from everything, but I'm getting healthier physically and mentally every day. A week ago I went to the doctor and asked if these red blotches were the Lamictal rash, and he told me no--they were stretch marks. That blew my mind.

I decided in June to start intermittent fasting and to cut all fast foods out of my diet except for once a month. All my friends will tell you I hate eating and I never finish anything. A lot of those drugs made me ravenously hungry to the point I couldnt sleep--it was fucking torture. Fasting and putting the last pieces together on learning how to eat healthy shrunk it waaay down, but I wanted to keep my appetite a little larger than it used to be.

The plan now is to cut down most of the body fat, and "build" but not egregiously. I promise you, looks are deceiving and I still have some moobage and love handles + face far. (Stupid guy stuff) Multiple people have told me that I'd look best, trimmed but not all jacked up swole; more importantly, I agree and I think it would be best for my health. I've been going to a nutritionist who said I had the ideal shape for physical fitness (my dad is shrek so..) and it would be a shame not to utilize that. For the first time, that really meant something to me because of how hard I've fought to climb back. I value EVERYTHING about my health way more now, and honestly everything in life. In all honestly, I'm working hard on feeling motivation again after years and years of deep, deep double depression(PDD+MDD)--which I still struggle with. The people who've stuck around in my life have such a strong value to me, and the number of people who've 'hung out' with me through Facebook video chat, snapchat, or Discord; or driven hundreds of miles just to see me, has been so validating. I figured once I moved people would forget about me, forget my value, and fade away. I used to have a ton of friends, I've always been gregarious, goofy, fiercely independent, and loyal. It was always easy for me to make friends. I felt none of that for a long time. I've felt like a husk; losing my independence, losing the high I get from talking to people that captivate me and make me care, and feeling like I had nothing to show for myself crushed my confidence--which is honestly still pretty damn bad. I've never been this over confident guy, but there are parts of me that are like..psychopathically confident, and people are drawn to it. Until some stupid serious drama bullshit shit this week, I hadn't had that come out of me for ages. That's because its fuel, honestly my fuel for everything: 100% unwavering confidence that I am capable of doing anything [anime shit] started to fade for the first time in my life. I need a few more successes but I'm getting it back--and in this place I'm finally free to be so much better.

I've lost a ton of weight

For some reason none of it left my ass so I have a fuckin DONK that I wish I could post on here because it's hilarious

I'm eating healthier and trying to learn about nutrition

I've removed almost the entire dark circles under my eyes more than they've been since I was maybe 16

I've followed the first step on my biggest long term plan and made it happen all by myself

I'm diving in to random hobbies with 0 knowledge and succeeding (Bike, hauling and working on a car)

I'm learning to introspect again, and regain control of my mind through very intensive trauma therapy

I have a room that's reflects me, is surrounded with meaningful things to me and looks so nice (big important to me, I didnt have a bedroom between age 9 and 17)

I'm trying to learn how to talk with new human beings again, as well as not be a complete feral animal around them

I'm trying to be a better me

I'm learning to live again. A lot of days suck, and these pictures suck, but it's pretty damn cool. Thanks all 0 of you for reading my entire shitty instagram style Inspo post

[foxymuses]

do it! share the spn opinions!

aight, but i aint gonna go super into detail here, okay, and i’m putting it under a cut just so people who don’t want to SEE THE SALT can avoid it, so this is your LAST WARNING don’t read further if you’re easily offended/have strong feelings about spn. also, i say it several times, but it should be enforced here that just because i dislike a character on the show does not mean i dislike someone’s portrayal. oftentimes, the tumblr rp world writes characters better than shows do and it redeems these characters in my eyes, so. keep that in mind

i can’t stand sam at all. i think he’s a whiny bitch baby and he gets far too much love in the show. i prefer the later seasons when dean becomes the plot focus. this isn’t because i like dean better (but i do), it’s honestly just so... like sam’s writing is so off putting and it grinds me. i usually skip episodes that are sam focused, and i very much can’t stand most of s3 and s4. i also don’t like soulless sam at all *** i usually adore sam rpers. this isn’t to say i hate the character. i hate the way he’s written in the show, but how tumblr people write him is the Right way and i love them for it

i Strongly Disliked s6 and s12. i can’t even tell you what happened in these seasons aside from a vague recollection. s8 is also a bit of a fog, but that’s mostly because s9 is when i started watching the show on tv so i sort of skipped through s8 to be ready for the premiere.

i will forever be salty that they did dean dirty at the end of s5. having him go to say yes then essentially being all ‘jk sam asked me not to so i wont’ will forever irritate me. like. they were all ‘no dean, you can’t say yes to michael’ and ready to lock him up for it, but then literally like an episode later were like ‘nah it’s cool if sam says yes though, whatever’

sort of following that, i really hate that sam is oftentimes implied to be the ‘stronger’ or ‘nicer’ brother. i think he’s a huge hypocrite and like. he causes so many problems, and he’s so mean to dean a lot of the time? but dean would do anything for him? that’s annoying

i did not like mary being brought back at all. that was random and made super little sense to the overall plot, and i did not like how she was written

i also don’t like jack. he seemed a kind of... mmm there’s a word for it. but like the writers seemed to just throw him in for the sake of a plot line, and he’s annoying and i don’t like how OP he is. again, most jack writers are better, but within the show realm, he annoys me to no end, as does the immediate like... love for him that everyone but dean has, and the pushy insistence that everyone shoves at dean to like jack as if he’s not the spawn of the devil

i dont even think this is controversial, but how they handled demon dean was Disappointing, and great part of the reason i stopped watching in s10 and didn’t catch up until i learned dean got possessed by michael FINALLY. but that disappointed me too, so. here we are, living on my blog with my own rules about the possessions and shit

can we talk about how dean’s ptsd is never addressed at all. 

uh, john was an abusive asshole. no forgiveness here. there’s no excuses ‘he was a drunk, he missed his wife, he wanted dean to survive’ no, he was an abusive asshole that royally fucked dean up for good, and i will have none of the john apologist bullshit here, thanks. bobby was more a father to dean than john ever would’ve been

don’t really care for the claire arc all that much. i like her with jody, and i like jody’s little family with alex too, but the arc for claire is just.. really odd

donna is incredibly annoying. i’ll keep saying it, but tumblr writers do her so much better. show donna just. ugh.

i wrote a post about it once, but the episode i Hate the most is on the head of a pin, and i won’t super go into detail, but that whole episode is s shit show and i Do Not acknowledge it happened, thanks

I THINK THERE’S MORE BUT I’M BLANKING

the samulet and handprint both still exist, thanks. there’s a post about it somewhere on one of my blogs that i should bring out again

can we stop treating dean as either an angry fisticuffs player or an overall childish goofball? he has more to him than that

i’m still bitter over the ruby arc, honestly. it annoyed me in all the wrong ways. we can just assume that i’m fine with ruby writers at this point, nothing i say in this list pertains to writers on tumblr, just the show

the god is chuck thing is fine, but the whole direction the show took with it after amara is just fucking bananas. i mean sure, what else could they end on other than a fight against god, but still. fucking bananas. lets go back to the days of ‘maybe chuck is god’ in like s5, yknow?

um can dean and cas just kiss now? or how about like several seasons ago, but starting in like s11, even though i adore cas a lot, he started to get a little irritating. again, show writing, not tumblr writing. but he kinda started to become like... high and mighty and it does not mesh well with things, i think

ben is dean’s son, i dont care what you say.

um im trying to go through the seasons in my head to remember things that annoy me and are controversial, and aren’t just things that spn needs to fix, like andy’s death (still bitter)

what was that crowley and blood addiction shit that happened in like s10 or something? what was that supposed to be? was that supposed to mean something i am so confused

um are the ghostfacers even still alive, like this isn’t salt, i’m just genuinely concerned because if they are, why aren’t they in more episodes please

yo, maybe because i write pride and chronos and whatever, but the treatment of non-chrisitan deities is absolute Shit, thanks. like i get that the show is going for the christian religion is the Main thing, because most people get it, but like. as someone genuinely interested in religion, the utter disdain for other religious entities or even the idea that all demons are bad demons simply because demons is ridiculous. show some love to other entities. like for fuck’s sake, you can’t just kill the god of time? what the fuck? some of these gods were around long before any recorded history of the christian god, so i guarantee you at least half of them could kick god’s butt and call it a day.

s9 mark of cain dean was the best, that’s the end of that argument

wtf with the gabe storyline what even, gabe deserved better

imma go so far as to say lucifer did too, that was a bunch of nonsense. all of it that happened after s5, it’s all bullshit

actually the only angel that deserved what they god was metatron, thanks, the asshole. 

also can we talk about death, like. dont get me wrong billie is cool, but i want my original pizza-loving death back please, he and dean had a cool thing going on. also tessa, can we bring back tessa

honestly rowena annoyed me in the beginning. she grew on me, but i feel like a lot of her character was forced. 

the dean and pie thing has gone a little too far at this point

*claps* i *claps* don’t *claps* like *claps* sam! literally half the things in this post are me dancing around this idea, but most of my salt for the show stems from my dislike of him. 

idek the general opinion on this, but i did Not like the crazy cas & meg situation. like all of that. it was weird. i mean i didn’t even really like meg, to be honest. but that whole arc was fucking weird, and that relationship (one kiss?) felt super forced.

actually can we stop having cas just. fucking switch personalities all the time? s4 cas was the best.

dean does Not put sam above everyone else. he will try to save sam, yes, but sam is not the most important person to dean, and dean will not choose sam above cas or bobby or charlie or jody or literally anyone.

IM RUNNING OUT OF THOUGHTS BUT I KNOW I HAVE MORE so. we’ll come back to this.

[tokidokifish]

so i am going to try, as best i can, to sum up the slightly hysterical 1 am call i had w @mum-feather about all the problems i had with the rise of skywalker, here we go, i’m not cutting this, stop reading now if you don’t want 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* STAR WARS SPOILERS *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

that movie felt so rushed it was like watching a flip book sometimes. like it felt so much like they just wanted to pretend that the last jedi never happened, which GOD, i feel that, my dudes, but maybe try to pace it a little better?? 

also @zwierzodudle pointed out that amidst scenes that happened way too fast there were scenes that seemed to drag on forever, including and not limited to a lightsaber fight between kylo and rey that lasted a minor eternity while i zoned out

this movie was so disrespectful to finn, holy shit. like it seemed? like they kinda didn’t know what to do with him? but i guess after a movie of the three heroes just fucking off and doing their own thing they seem to have kinda lost steam on what should have been the emotional centerpoint of the movie: the relationship between rey, finn, and poe. like it’s still there, it’s still important, but god it doesn’t hit the same as it did in the force awakens.

also he almost tells rey something that’s pretty clearly that he loves her, but then he NEVER DOES, and the movie talks about it a couple of times and then just fucking drops it like a rock to have him spend an awful lotta time with the socially acceptable black lady.

like i liked her character! they could have had a great character dynamic if it had been a touch more fleshed out! but it was just kinda suspicious!

also rose is still like THERE but they NEVER talk about the end of the last movie. she’s just there, and she doesn’t get to hang out with the rest of the heroes because, uh, reeaaaasons? reasons, i guess. i do not understand the treatment of rose.

they made luke (bc force ghost, obviously) a lot more likable, so that was nice, and also made it clear that yeah, leia trained as a jedi, but then she... [shuffles through notes] stopped... because... she saw her son dying if she continued. holy shit. like, luke, dude, you didn’t think to point out that “yeah, force visions are shit, happened to me, maybe don’t get all Greek Tragedy in making them happen by trying to avoid them” 

according to these movies luke skywalker apparently didn’t learn jack shit from the original trilogy and then died because he astral projected too hard.

but guess who also dies because they astral project too hard! it’s leia! she just fucking drops dead like her mom because she reached out across the universe to say ONE FUCKING WORD to her son, and that was apparently enough? to get him to turn his life around and yeet his shitty lightsaber into the sea like a businessman who just discovered what was really important in life?

ONE FUCKING WORD?? 

anyhow kylo is redeemed now. it is... incredibly unearned. hated it.

also hated the fact that rey was apparently palpatine’s granddaughter, mostly because it felt like suuuuuch an awkward retcon after the last movie was like “lmao no you’re no one, because we gotta be SUBVERSIVE”

not to mention the way it treated falling to the dark side as like... something that just happens. like evil is a choice. harming people is a choice. at no point were they ever like “you kinda liked the force lightning thing, huh?” or “maybe you kinda wanna hurt the people who mistreated you for your entire life?” to rey, she clearly hated when her powers were destructive and never seemed to carry any sort of grudges toward the people that made her upbringing shitty.

like when she starts talking abt how she wants to kill palpatine for having her parents killed (which feels incredibly disingenuous) finn says that doesn’t sound like her and she gets angry but a bitch is right! it doesn’t sound like rey! people keep saying she’s got darkness in her but i’m still like BITCH WHERE. like just because she had a shitty grandfather? so fucking what! luke and leia had a shitty DAD and they were the people she looked up to the most.

it’s absolutely BAFFLING to me the way they treat the dark side.

but at the end palpatine dies, again, presumably for real this time, but rey dies too, but redeemed kylo ren, fresh off just murdering all of his knights because only HE gets a redemption arc, it’s not like they were just taking orders from him, they could have thrown in like a single line about how “we serve the emperor”, but no, all the knights of ren got to do were walk around and look vaguely menacing and then get murdered

ANYHOW, kylo ren crawls out of the hole he got yeeted into, and force heals rey, and then she wakes up and is like “ben~” and i couldn’t even look at the screen as they kissed

gross

god

it’s so fucking gross

but then kylo ren just fucking DIES, goddamn VANISHES, and it is the FUNNIEST SHIT. he doesn’t get a LINE of dialogue once he gets out of that pit, he just dies.

AND THEN, THE WEIRDEST SHIT, and the reason i’m like “apparently rey regretted it immediately” is that she like doesn’t even seem to care! like she’s upset but a LOT OF SHIT has just happened in a really short period of time and it seems like kylo dying is just a fucking drop in an ocean. 

like she goes to tatooine to bury luke and leia’s lightsabers because why not and some rando shows up and demands her family name, a thing that is apparently important in a universe with characters named chewbacca, and rey looks off into the distance and you know what her answer is going to be because you saw the title of the movie.

but she doesn’t see kylo, because kylo ren is apparently undeserving of a force ghost, apparently even the force thought his redemption was unearned. 

she just sees luke and leia, and THAT’S what makes her say “skywalker”, and i like support that! they were important people in her life! sure wish we had gotten to see more of them being important without also being shitty, tlj!luke, but still, i understand.

but it just makes the whole kiss that much more baffling! it’s like they threw it in there to be like “here, now shut the fuck up” and bc they didn’t have to follow through bc kylo died.

anyhow it was an absolute trainwreck of a movie but hey! better than the last jedi. and if it had been like two movies instead and the reylo thing didn’t happen it could probably even have been some solid films.

oh well.