#so I have to either hide what I’m going through or justify it to people because of their misunderstanding and internalized ableism

[deliciousdietdrpepper]

Something painful I’ve realized about POTs is that it’s alienating. Specifically, when everyone else has a head full of thoughts, when in a episode, it’s as if when I talk to them I’m not there. Mental connections are few and far between, and when in an episode, I might say things and voice insecurities that I otherwise wouldn’t. So when I’m in that position, I just don’t talk to people anymore. In a group, everyone will continue talking, but because it takes so long to piece what I’m truly thinking together, and so much effort to say it, I won’t bring up my thoughts or opinions—and that’s Bad! For relationships! I’ve realized that I have an unhealthy well of jealousy for people who are able to connect to each other—the able-bodied and able-minded. It’s not kind, and it’s not sustainable. Yet, I have to continue living with this condition. No option there. No cure, just a million little micro-adjustments in the hope that they bring me closer to myself and others. A gallon of water, testosterone, adhd medication, blood pressure medication—none of it separates me completely from the struggle to think and speak and move. I’m divorced from my own intelligence and intuition.

At the end of the day, I’m responsible for the insecurities I bring to the table, and those are formed within a situation outside of my control, and so unique that it doesn’t relate with the majority of people. Built in neurosis. Maybe this is why disabled voices are so important. I don’t know anyone in my own life who struggles to participate the same way I do, or if they do, their struggle is as invisible to me as mine is to them.

[bohoteacher]

Navigating Betrayal: Reconciling Admiration with Disillusionment

Like many Neil Gaiman fans this month, I've been shocked and distressed by the news regarding the SA allegations. I won't go over the details, as they're readily available online. I'll start by saying that I believe the accusers, and even the most lenient interpretation of events is still troubling enough to discredit Gaiman. For a long time, I didn't know what to say. I was just shocked and, somewhat naively, felt betrayed. I don't typically idolize actors, authors, or other public figures—I'm here for the characters, they're who I love and believe in. So, how did I end up believing in this man and his rhetoric?

I only had a parasocial relationship with him, which is to say no real relationship at all. But I took his Masterclass on writing, spent hours taking notes, and learned from him. I feel betrayed by someone I saw as a beloved teacher. I know this is insignificant compared to what the women who came forward experienced, but it's a valid feeling, and I needed time to process it. My initial reaction was to throw out and discount everything he’s ever written or done—of course it was.

This isn't just about my love for Good Omens, although how can it not be? I learned so much from this man—about writing, about not being too hard on myself, about the creative process. I read his books to my middle school classes, and we all learned how to be better people from them. Today, I saw and bought Instructions, a children’s book by Neil Gaiman illustrated by Charles Vess, from the used bookstore where I volunteer. It was a used copy, so no royalties will go to him. It’s a beautifully illustrated book where the main character walks through a land that clearly symbolizes life, learning lessons like saying please and "if any creature cries to you that it hurts, if you can, ease its pain." How could someone write this and then do what he did? I asked myself. "What an evil hypocrite," was my first thought. But then I recalled a line from another author, Stephen King. In The Stand, a character is described as "awake at the lectern, but asleep at the switch," meaning they know the right thing to do and can talk about it, but in the moment of choice, they act without integrity.

I don’t know if I’m making sense, but I think it’s too easy to label Gaiman as simply evil, as if he intentionally manipulated us by saying the right things just to make us read or watch his creations. The reality is likely far more complicated. Within this man is the amazing, thought-provoking, life-affirming wisdom that many of us have tried to live by, but also the hard, thoughtless, selfish cruelty that led him to abuse young, vulnerable women. The wisdom does not justify the abuse, and the abuse does not nullify the wisdom.

I think it's too simplistic to say Gaiman is despicable and always has been, hiding it from us all along. This doesn't acknowledge the complexity of human nature—that there is potential for both good and bad within us all. As it’s said, possibly by Terry Pratchett or possibly by Neil Gaiman, “It may help to understand human affairs to be clear that most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused, not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people.”

Gaiman is a man who has done some fundamentally good things and some fundamentally bad things. I can’t forget either one.

This is just my opinion. I know some people want to cancel him, while others want to exonerate him. You do you. As for me, I will continue to love Aziraphale and Crowley. I will continue to read and create fan-fiction. I will continue to find comfort and wisdom in books that have meant so much to me over the years. But I will also remember that they were created by a very flawed man whom I can no longer trust.

I understand that opinions on this matter vary widely. I know some people might feel that not discarding everything associated with him is wrong, but this is where I stand. I’m not looking to debate this or be told how I should react. I just needed to process my thoughts in writing and move forward in the way that feels right for me.

[tartsinarat]

Heres an extremely dumbass idea I thought of while rewatching parks and rec through clips

Belos: “Depressed? I’m the furthest thing from depressed. I mean, look at what I’ve accomplished. Do you see them? Do you think a depressed person could make this? No.”

Hunter:” uh…father who are you talking to? There’s no one there”

Here’s the live Caleb reaction

But yeah I just find Caleb showing up to haunt Belos’s ass at random points and judging every life decision he’s making, so then every time Belos has to miserably fail to try to justify everything he’s done ever to (quite literally) dead silent Caleb is kinda funny in a morbid way

This time he is showing off and brings up his two grimwalkers that have lasted the longest beating his record of two years as an example of a good life decision as well as proving that he totally doesn’t need therapy

Ngl I feel bad for Pip as the poor guy just wanted to nap and got picked up just for Belos to prove a point but he stayed asleep through all of it tho

Btw Caleb is trying so hard not to loose his shit just because there’s youngins there and he doesn’t want to wake up Pip by making Belos pissed off so he’s going to stand there in silence even more menacingly and judgemental

I like the idea that despite the weird as fuck origins of Pip and Hunter, Caleb still sees them as his nephews and likes to check up on them every once in a while when he’s not haunting Belos, Caleb checks on Hunter the most because he’s constantly in dangerous situations even inside the castle so it helps Hunter a lot to have Caleb staring daggers at Belos whenever he gets violent towards Hunter because it usually stops him

On the other hand Caleb does like checking on Pip because it’s nice seeing a version of what could have been if Philip had learnt to accept the boiling isles :( also I can imagine it’s nice seeing your great x(insert number) granddaughter continue your wife’s tradition of being a menace to a stuck up society and teaching those ways to your weird mini brother/ nephew.

also fun fact Hooty can see Caleb (don’t ask how) and greatly enjoys chatting to him as Caleb was the one who managed to convince Eve to let hooty stay in their house’s door as a “guard” but really Caleb just felt bad for the wee bug demon as hooty didn’t have a home at the time and thought so he would be a fun addition to the family hence why alongside Lilith, Caleb was one of Hooty’s favourite people

btw nobody really cares or finds it unusual for hooty to just be talking to himself so not one single person has asked about it lmao

Almost forgot to mention but this is actually still a weird memory that Hunter remembers and used to wonder why on the boiling isles did Belos have those random fits of “hallucinations” until he talked about it with Pip.

Pip was just causally like “wait you couldn’t see him?” And walked off… Hunter has never found out or gotten a clear answer if Pip was actually joking or if he could straight up see dead people, Pip refuses to reveal the real answer because he finds Hunter being confused as fuck hilarious

Also if your wondering why Belos doesn’t have the cool mechanical prosthetic staff arm, he usually hides it with a glove :p (this is because a) I’m too lazy to draw such a detailed prosthetic all the time and b) I doubt Belos would like people to know he’s missing an arm as I doubt he would like the idea of seeming “weak” because in his day this would essentially be a death sentence either due to infection or being classed as less than due to not being able to work properly)

[kining-the-evil]

hello :) i absolutely loved your yandere haymitch hc’s and i was wondering if i could request a yandere haymitch x fem reader (can either be hc’s or an imagine) where reader is in her early 20s and another victor from district twelve? you can write whatever you’d like, i’m good with any level of yandereness and dark content! thank you <3

I’ll Protect You

Summary: Haymitch promised himself that after your games he would protect you, but after the announcement of the Quarter Quirl there isn’t much he can do

Warnings: hunger games violence, soft Yandere!haymitch, mental manipulation, angry Haymitch, drinking

An: I am genuinely shocked by the lack of Haymitch fics on here. I Hope it lives up to your expectations!

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

To some, it seemed like you had signed your own fate. Sure, you didn’t volunteer to fight in the hunger games and it wasn’t your fault that Haymitch was your mentor, but you had been kind to the man. The first day on the train you helped him to his room after getting drunk at dinner, and you brought him breakfast the next morning. While your fellow tribute got angry and yelled at him, you defended Haymitch.

How was he not supposed to feel something for you.

For the first time in a long time, he gave his everything into helping you succeed in the games. He painted you as the princess of the capital, charming and sweet, and someone they would all want to keep around. You got a tone of sponsors, all of witch helped you to hide and let the other tributes kill each other until the last hours of the games.

When you won, Haymitch thought he would cry. In fact, he did later on when alone. He was there immediately, in the infirmary when you came out, on the train, when you got home, and when you had to do your tour. And you seemed to be there for him, something he hadn’t had in so long.

It was less then a year before your ‘relationship’ started. If you had been on the outside of the relationship, you would have seen the red flags. The flags Haymitch justified.

He was older, but that meant he could lead you through this new life.

He was a drunk, but you didn’t seem to mind taking care of him.

He was possessive, but he was just protecting you.

You didn’t have a friend or family member who could warn you, and you fell into his ‘trap.’ You listened when he said you should stay with him, or when he didn’t want you to leave the house for months at a time. You listened when he told you how he was the only one who could keep you safe, that he would protect you because that’s what you do when you love someone.

“Good morning, Katniss,” You hollered when the door to your home opened. Despite the girls prickly attitude, you were so happy when her and Peeta had won this year. They deserved it, plus it gave you other people to see. Haymitch was always much less…intense around others. So the two of them coming in the home you and Haymitch shared was a welcoming change.

The girl didn’t great you other then a small smile before grabbing a cup of water and marching over to where Haymitch was passed out on the table.

“Here we Go…” you mumbled while grabbing a towel. You back was turned when his voice rang through the room.

“What the hell!?”

You hurried with the towel, getting to him quickly to start drying his head.

“If you wanted kind, you should have asked Peet’s to wake you up.” Katniss didn’t stay to chat, choosing to leave as quickly as she arrived.

“Thank you darling.” He took the towel to finish drying his face. His hair was a tangled mess, and the bags under his eyes highlighted the recent lack of sleep. He looked like a mess. But a simple smile from the man made you melt. Something about that smile made you willing to do anything for him.

“Of course.” You kissed his cheek lightly, feeling the skin of his cheek tighten lightly from his smile. You grabbed the breakfast you had made a while ago, setting it on the table for him. “I made this this morning.”

“Looks wonderful,” he slurred lightly before eating the food. That was one thing that brought you happiness, his smile. Even when he was blackout drunk, he still smiled at you like you were his everything.

The rest of the meal was quiet, nether of you really talking. The most anyone said was Haymitch encouraging you to eat a bit more.

“Do you have anything you have to do today?” You hoped he said no, staying alone in the large house was awful and you never really knew how long he’d be gone.

“Not really, other then damage control for Katniss.” He sounded tired, but pulled himself out of his seat to walk over to you. “I’ll have to go out for a bit.”

He pulled you to him slightly, scanning over your face. You could just imagine how someone else would react to how he treated you, the asshole alcoholic holding you softly.

“Promise me you’ll stay here, all day, and I’ll be back to watch the Quarter Quell announcement with you.” You shivered at the mention of this years games. You couldn’t help but wonder at what fucked up idea they would use for this year. “Hey,” he took your chin in his hand so you’d look at him. “Promise?”

“Ok.” You nodded lightly and he gifted you that beautiful smile. He placed a light kiss on your forehead before pulling away from you and walking away to change out of the clothes he had passed out in.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

The slight breeze bit into your skin as you pulled the large door closed behind you. It hadn’t taken long for you to get board after Haymitch had left, and you weren’t really looking to read a book or watch some Capital broadcast. So you had decided to take a small walk. You’d stayed out of the main part of town, keeping towards the fence on the boarder.

You walked through the house, getting a drink, and walking into the living room.

“Where were you?”

You jumped, letting out a surprised cry and spinning around to see Haymitch. He was slouched down in one of the chairs, a glass of what you assumed was whiskey in his hand.

“Haymitch! You scared me!” You chuckled a bit, giving him a smile. “I just went on a quick walk, clear my head-“

“Why did you leave?” He stood up surprisingly quickly, considering the half bottle of whiskey on the table next to him.

“I just told you? I went on a walk.” You chuckled, slightly confused. Was he…angry?

“You told me,” he set the glass down and walked up to you, caging You between him and the wall. “That you wouldn’t leave. And yet, I get home and you’re gone.”

“I-I didn’t think-“

“You’re right, you didn’t think. If you had, you would have fucking stayed here like I told you to.” His voice was dripping with anger, but his face was unreadable. That was something you hated. He could be so unreadable, and it made it that much harder to know what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry,” you offered. You didn’t know what he wanted to hear from you.

“There is no reason to leave without me, understand? I don’t want to ever see you out there without me, I don’t care if Katniss, Peeta, hell, I don’t care if Effy is with you.” For a moment his face cracked, making your breath hitch. If you could read it on his face that he was mad, then you knew he was mad.

“Ok, I won’t,” you whispered. He seemed to accept that, pulling to his chest.

“Good. Now come on, we have to watch the broadcast.”

He led you to the couch, sitting down before pulling you to his side. You tended to avoid any of these broadcast that you could, but you weren’t able to this year. The announcement of the new stipulation would be on, and Snow was adamant that ever Victor be watching.

It started normal, Snow talking about how the games were required for peace. He discussed the terms of the last two games, and finally he made the announcement.

“This year, to remind us that even the strongest are not immune to the Capitals power, the tributes for the 75th hunger games will be reaped from the existing pool of victors from each district.”

He continued to talk after that, but you couldn’t actually hear anything. The ringing in your ears blocked everything out as you processed his words. Victors would be chosen. It would be you are Katniss. Peeta or Haymitch. 

“Y/n? Darling, come back to me.” You vaguely recognized his voice as Haymitch gently shook you. “Darling, talk to me.” He tried again, but got no verbal answer. Instead, you folded in on yourself, letting him gently hold you.

“It’s gonna be ok, I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

“Peeta lives.”

Haymitch glanced up, practically glaring at Katniss. Of course she was already over here. “You should learn to knock.”

“Last year you fought for me to win, I want Peeta to win,” she repeated.

“Let me tell You a secret sweetheart,” he stood up to be face to face with the woman. “I don’t really care what you want.” She looked slightly stunned, but he just continued. “The only thing I care about, is keeping her alive.” He pointed towards the hall that led to your room. “In fact, I would kill you and Peeta if it meant she’d be safe.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Really? Don’t forget, Ive killed too. I’ve also convinced y/n to willingly give up any freedom she had. She willingly stays in the house, she moved in, she truly loves me. And I love her. And I’m sure as hell not letting that go.”

His voice was steady, eyes hard, clearly not playing. He was serious.

“I knew there was something wrong with how you interact with her. You kidnapped her, didn’t you.”

“It’s only kidnapping if She is here against her will. Go home, and you better hope to god she doesn’t end up in those games because I think we both know Peeta isn’t going to let me go in there. He’s far to nice.” He smirked lightly before walking away from the girl standing in his kitchen.

[blastaway2004]

As someone who really likes both A:TLA and The Dragon Prince, this take infuriates me so much because, I love both Aang and Ezran for different reasons:

“Watched season 6 of TDP recently and Ezran is a much better character than Aang.

Ezran is a kid too and he tends to be naive.

But where ATLA uses Aang's age as an excuse for his actions, TDP stresses that while Ezran is young, that's not a reason for him to never take responsibility. That's not a reason for him to cling to the past and never move forward. He needs to grow up and face chal-lenges.

I also feel like Ezran's vision of peace and Aang's vision of peace are very different.

Aang tries to push his own ideals on other people, and gets frustrated when they don't agree. But Ezran understands and acknowledges that people are in pain. He knows peace doesn't come easy which is why he uses his position to take the first steps.

And to be honest, Ezran just had more growth”.

People who say this stuff are morons with no media-literacy. And yes, they ship Zutara.

I’m sorry, but I’ve never seen The Dragon Prince. But I have heard it’s good, made by Aaron Ehasz and Sokka voices the main character. So I can’t really comment on Ezran, but as for Aang…

OP blatantly lies about Aang and just doesn’t understand or remember his character. For one the show NEVER uses his age as an excuse for his actions. His age is only really brought up in the context that he has so much pressure thrust upon him as the Avatar, something no 12 year old should be put through.

Aang is genuinely a kindhearted person, but whenever he does do something wrong, he’s either called out for it, apologizes or at the very least realizes his mistake. When he hides the letter from Hakoda, Sokka is pissed and Katara is disappointed, Aang doesn’t try to justify what he did, he knows it was wrong and accepts the consequences. When he burns Katara he swears off firebending, he feels remorse over giving into negativity and hatred when Appa was stolen and bottles up his emotions. In EIP he clearly realizes kissing Katara was stupid and the latter is rightfully annoyed.

The whole point of the show is Aang taking responsibility and actively seeking to save the world, which he does. He grows up and faces many challenges, in The Storm, he says

“I’m done dwelling on the past. I can't make guesses about what would have turned out if I hadn't run away. I'm here now and I'm going to make the most out of it”.

That’s precisely what Aang does during the series.

“Aang tries to push his own ideals on other people, and gets frustrated when they don't agree. But Ezran understands and acknowledges that people are in pain. He knows peace doesn't come easy which is why he uses his position to take the first steps.”

I am so sick of this notion that Aang tries to push his ideas on people. I know what episode they’re referring to, and Aang never tried to force his ideals on Katara. He actively acknowledges that Katara is in pain.

“Wait! Stop! I do understand. You're feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people?”

He knows that peace doesn’t come easy, he urges Katara to face the killer, she doesn’t forgive him like Aang expected her to, but Aang takes no issue with this, he’s just proud she didn’t give into her hatred and chose to forgive Zuko, who need I mention, Aang had taken the first step by offering him friendship and saving his life.

The thing is, I and many other don’t take issue with criticism regarding Aang, for example I wish he was shown apologizing to Katara in EIP and I wish his conflict about killing Ozai was set up earlier. All Anti-Aang criticisms essentially have no merit to them, this one in particular actively fails to understand character and makes up elements that were never at play, the stuff they say Aang didn’t do, he actually did, you’d have to be blind not to notice.

[alovesongtheywrote]

nightmare academia puts me through the ringer EVERY TIME and i love it

♥ Summary: in a few chapters, it's gonna get worse!! for now tho... In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, case stuff ensues and you prepare for heartbreak. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: cops. cops being terrible, cops exploiting the system, and cops shaming a woman for being a sex worker. also, violence, implied violence, and past violence.

♥ A/N: holy shit, this chapter is Very Long

♥ Word Count: 4885

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

In the weeks that followed, Spencer brought the BAU to you.  Of course, not everyone could make it.  Kate Callahan was off raising her children.  Penelope Garcia was the target of several  hitmen (whereas Frank was probably the target of a single hitman.  Massive difference.  Trust me.)  And Derek Morgan remained at Quantico with Garcia- so you really weren’t sure what to expect.  The agents you had the strongest feelings about were out of commission.  The last time you’d met his team it did not uh, how would you put it?  End well?  So you were- justifiably- a touch guarded.

That changed. Eventually.

It started with Adam.  

At that point in the investigation, local law enforcement had only shown your friend cruelty, distrust, and skepticism.  Honestly?  You were about to start biting people about it.  (Yeah, maybe it would have gotten you arrested, but at that point, you did not care.  At the very least, biting would make you feel productive.)  You were well and truly prepared for Spencer’s law enforcement team to behave in a similar manner to the local cops- and to be honest, you probably should have been.  Most Feds would carry that same suspicion and distrust, and if they didn’t they were probably faking it to try and get a confession.  

The BAU, however, are not most Feds.  For several reasons.  Either way, you were well and truly prepared to maul the next person who treated your friend like garbage, fed or otherwise.  There was never a need.

The BAU showed Adam basic decency.  They didn’t talk down to him or dismiss him as a demeaning stereotype- and yes, that was the barest of bare minimum, but it was still something.  While they regarded him with mild suspicion for the first like, two minutes, it only took the team that same two minutes to come to the conclusion that Adam was innocent.  After that, the BAU was just as dedicated to clearing Adam’s name as you were.

“Adam had an incredibly emotional response when we mentioned Frank,” Hotchner explained to the local detectives, “He’s genuinely devastated by what happened.  He couldn’t have done this.  Even if he did attack Frank, it wouldn’t have been a clinical hit.”

“Emotions tend to make things messy- we would have seen something much more personal, with more violence and more remorse,” Rossi added.

The detectives did not listen.  The detectives did not care.  

“I’d say a gunshot wound is pretty messy,” one laughed.

“Yeah,” another jumped in, “Try telling the vic’ that things aren’t messy.”

You bit your tongue to keep from screaming, but you didn’t stay entirely silent.  If the detectives weren’t going to give a shit on their own, then you were going to make them.

“Have you actually?” you asked, crossing your arms, “Have you spoken to the victim?”

“Eh, someone else got around to it,” the first detective asked, looking at his partner with the special kind of uncertainty that came with getting called out.

“Did you read the report, then?”

“Well, I’m on the case, aren’t I?”

“Answer the question, detective.”

In the telling silence that followed, Rossi had to turn away to hide his (failed) attempt to suppress a grin.  Hotchner looked proud, despite not knowing you very well.  Spencer looked like he might grab you by the waist and kiss you until you were out of breath.  He didn’t, though, for lots of reasons- his boss was there, he hadn’t asked you if you’d like to be kissed, there was more serious stuff to focus on, and like… you already looked fucking pissed.

The detectives just looked embarrassed.  

“I- uh.  I’ve skimmed it,” the first detective stuttered out.

“Yeah, cool, not good enough,” you nabbed the case file from a nearby desk and pressed it into the officer’s hands, “Consider reading the report.  You’ll find that the victim disagrees with you.”

Both detectives stared at the file as if they were seeing it for the first time- as if they were seeing a file for the first time.  You sighed.

“Detective, if I may ask, how much overtime have you put in on this case?”  the man in front of you blanched at your question.  You would’ve laughed if you weren’t so fucking angry, “Cool.  I thought so.”

“Ough,” Rossi winced with faux sympathy, “Overtime?  And you haven’t even read the case file?”

“Hey, we’ve been very busy these last few weeks!”

The second officer nodded, “Just last week, we had five break-ins in the downtown area.”

“Alright, I’ll accept that,” you turned to leave before doubling back, “But before I go, I need to ask- do you care about the wellbeing of the break-in vics the way you care about this case?  Do you care about all victims so dearly?  Or do you treasure their testimony the way you “treasure” the testimony in this case?”

“What?  What are you saying, what do you-”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume it’s the latter.”  

“What?  Okay, what the hell do you know about police work-!”

“They’re an expert criminologist,” Spencer said, seething slightly.

“Dr. Reid is right.  I know a thing or two about crime- and if I’m just gonna put it this way.  I’ve seen the data.  I’ve heard testimony from victims and offenders.  I know the local and nationwide statistics for unreported crimes.  You’re concerned about the victim hearing that his case isn’t messy?  Look me in the eye and tell me that you’ve never told a victim that their situation- their serious situation- was a waste of police time.”

The officers couldn’t look at your face, much less your eyes.  You had done what you needed to do.

“You wanna solve crimes?  You wanna be the hero?  Then take a goddamned ethics class, read your fucking case files, care for your community, and do your fucking job.”

The detectives tried in vain to defend themselves.  They were unsuccessful- especially in the face of the three FBI agents that immediately backed you up.

“Dr. (L/N) is right.  The number of unreported crimes will astound you,” Rossi said, smirking like the little shit that we all know he is.

“This is especially prevalent with sexual assault cases, theft and scams, and other crimes where the victim may feel a sense of embarrassment- or crimes where the victim feels like their case won’t be taken seriously,” Spencer added in a very Spencer-like way.

“And everything you need to know about this crime is in the file.  If you’d read it, you’d know that the victim is very insistent that your guy didn’t do it, and one could say that, oh, I don’t know, he’s a strong eyewitness.  He is the victim and all,” Rossi continued, getting their asses.

They struggled to respond, “Well- I-  We-”

“And even if you discount the eyewitness testimony, there’s still the matter of alibis and ballistics.  Security cameras have placed Adam away from the community center at the time of the shooting.  The ballistics aren’t a match to any weapon that Adam has ever come into contact with.  Even if they were a match, he hasn’t handled a weapon since his release from prison as a condition of his parole.  But if you had checked the file, you’d know that,” Hotch added, also smirking like a little shit, but with a slight edge to it- that edge, kids, is called “pissed off authority figure.”

“Hey, it-”

“It just sounds like poor police work to me,” Spencer had the biggest smirk of all- the smirk of a little shit who’s proud of his team and of his hot co-professor, “Had you actually done any of your research, you would realize that the suspect you have in custody is being held on police bias and circumstantial evidence.  Any good lawyer can get this case thrown out, and then where will you be?”

His smirk turned to a full grin when you shot him a small smile of your own.

The detectives continued to sputter out responses.  For once, the second one spoke, “Now, we may not be fancy FBI agents, but this precinct has a solid track record of convictions-”

“Were those convictions based on circumstance and bias?” Neither detective answered Spencer’s question.  He continued, “Even if this precinct had a perfect track record, that wouldn’t make it invulnerable to mistakes- and even if it did, you would still have the responsibility of approaching each case like professionals to ensure the wellbeing of victims, suspects, and families.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” you slid forward, putting a hand on Spencer’s arm, “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to go speak with the victim.  His name is Frank, by the way.”

And just like that, you pulled Dr. Spencer Reid away- and he did not resist in the slightest.  In fact, he held the door open for you as you exited the precinct.  Rossi was pretty sure he saw the kid get behind the wheel.

As the detectives scurried away with their tails between their legs, the older agent let out a long whistle.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that our young Dr. Reid is officially smitten.”

“He was smitten the last time we were here,” Hotch said, pulling another copy of the case file from seemingly nowhere- one of his many unit chief powers.

“Yeah, yeah, but this time it’s bad.  Garcia’s gonna be mad that she didn’t get to see it.”

Hotch nodded, solemnly.

“Y’know, I think the three of them combined could probably take down the whole FBI.”

“You’re right,” Hotch snapped the file closed with a tiny little proud-dad-type smile, “We’re awfully lucky that they’re focused on something else at the moment.”

-

Missy got your guard to drop further.

Initially, she was hesitant to have the Feds drop in on Frank’s case- you both were.  You were used to local law enforcement treating her like shit.  You didn’t stand for it- every time a cop or lawyer so much as dared to look at her wrong, you bared your teeth like a damn dog and threatened to bite where it would hurt.  Y’know.  Lawsuits.  Missy wasn’t exactly a pushover, either.  She was one of the strongest people you knew, and you were well aware that she could hold her own.  If Missy wanted to be scary, she could be fucking terrifying.

Still, it was a little exhausting to fight all these battles against people in positions of authority who were so convinced that their series of events was correct, and anyone who went against it was nothing more than a lying ex-con.  Having the BAU in your pockets certainly helped with that.

“I already told you what happened.  I’ll tell you a thousand more times if I have to, but the story isn’t going to change,” Missy groaned, voice muffled as she buried her face in her hands.

“Okay, then.  We’ll go over your testimony again.  A few more times, if you don’t mind,” One of the local detectives smirked, ignoring the death glare you sent her way.

“Fine.  Frank was walking me to the community center.  I was taking a class on resume writing.  It was cloudy, not raining, but cold.  We came around the side of the building when a man in a leather jacket walked around the corner.”

“And what did this man do?”

“He- he shot Frank.  He tried to kill my-” she took a shaky breath.  You put a hand on her arm, aiming for gentle comfort and reassurance.  Missy nodded, letting you know you’d hit your target.

“Did you see his face?” The officer continued.

“No.  He was wearing one of those bike helmets that block off the person’s eyes- but I swear, it wasn’t Adam.  This guy was too bulky.  Adam’s made of wires, he needs to eat more.”

“You seem to have a lot of affection for Adam,” the detective leaned forward, “Now, we know you’ve claimed to be in a relationship with Frank- but could you describe your relationship with Adam for us?”

“I already said it!  I took a couple classes with him!  He’s a friend, that’s all.”

“Mhmm.  That’s all.  And in your previous line of work- the one that earned you a prison sentence of twelve months and a little over minimum wage- you had a lot of ‘friends,’ yes?”

“Excuse me?” your fingers bit into the table that separated you from the cop.  You had half a mind to jump over the thing and throttle the smug detective sitting before you.  

“What?” Missy growled, “You think just because I used to hook I fuck all my friends now?  I’ve taken a few classes with Doc (L/N), I haven’t fucked them!”

You nodded in solemn agreement.  The detective shrugged this off, ignoring everything that came out of Missy’s mouth.  When she spoke again, her voice rang with the faux pity of someone who held themselves leagues above Missy.

“You know, I can see why you were looking at writing up a resume- your old line of work is so degrading.  You know you’re never the same, afterwards.  You can never wash off the shame.  You’ll always be a little broken.  A little-”

“Okay, that’s enough-” you stood up, slamming your hands down on the table.

“Hey, fuck you, man-” Missy leaned forward, “Don’t tell me what hooking did to me.  You don’t know me.  You don’t fucking know.”

“And now you’re lashing out.  Poor thing-”

“Detective Foy.  A word,” Tara Lewis, a newer BAU agent who you hadn’t really had the pleasure of meeting materialized in the doorway like a perfectly timed ghost, ready to right some wrongs and keep you from committing a murder.  Her request for a word was perfectly intimidating, disclosing the not-so-secret secret that the request itself was not actually a request.  

“I’m sorry, Agent, I’m in the middle of an interrogation-” 

“It’s not an interrogation.  You’re questioning a witness.  Agent Jareau will handle things from here.  Now, a word?”

You and Missy watched as the detective slunk out of the room with her tail between her legs.  Moments later, JJ joined you, but she didn’t bother to start a line of questioning.  Instead, the three of you watched in giddy silence as Tara Lewis destroyed Detective Foy where she stood.  You couldn’t hear her through the glass, but you could vaguely read the words, “You are a police officer meant to serve and protect the people in your community, and uphold the law.  You should educate yourself on the law, and on what it means to serve and protect.”  On her lips.

You could’ve been off on that translation, but either way, it was sick as fuck.  By the time Tara was finished, you and Missy were barely holding back your laughter.  You probably would’ve held it in if JJ hadn’t turned around with a pleased grin on her face.

“Ok, well, I’ve known Agent Lewis for about three minutes, and already I adore her,” you cackled.

“Oh, she’s excellent,” Missy said, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Well, we certainly like her,” Jennifer grinned, clearly proud of her teammate and happy to see that someone outside the BAU had taken notice.

A few moments later, Tara re-entered the room with a tired sigh on her lips.  It didn’t take her long to realize that you were all staring right at her.

“What?  What is it?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, we just think, as a group,” you looked around like you were the leader of the world’s weirdest (and maybe coolest?) group project, “That you are, objectively, excellent.”

“Yep.  Not bad for a Fed.”

Again, you nodded in agreement, “I concur.”

Tara raised an eyebrow, slightly confused, “Thank you?”

Missy gave Tara a thumbs up.  You followed her lead.  Not really knowing what else to do in this situation, and figuring there was no harm in joining the madness, Tara returned the thumbs up.

“Well, like we said, we’ll take over the questioning from here,” JJ took a seat as she spoke.  Tara joined her at the table.

“So, after Frank was shot, did you see where the attacker went?”

“No.  I was kind of focused on my partner bleeding on the ground.”

“That’s fair- but try to think back.  Did you see anything in your peripheral vision?  Did you hear anything?”

Missy paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, she still sounded lost in thought, “I heard a bike.  It makes sense with the helmet- I think it might’ve been a Yamaha?”  

“Wait, you can tell which brand a bike is by the sound?” you asked, not disbelieving Missy, but distracted by the new knowledge that a person could do such a thing.

“If you let me think about it, I could probably give you the make and model.”

“Holy shit, really?” your eyes were wide.  Your expression betrayed just how bewildered and impressed you were by vehicle knowledge.  It might’ve been basic knowledge, but fuck it, the author can’t drive.

“Oh, absolutely- different bikes make different sounds.  Cars are similar,” Tara nodded her agreement.

“You can tell cars apart by their sounds!?”

“Yeah?  Can’t you?” Missy turned to face you, slightly bemused.

“I can tell that they’re old?  Or like, electric, I guess?”

“Okay, when this is all over, I’m giving you a lesson.”

“I’d like to get in on that,” Tara added.

“Excellent!” Missy smiled, “Now everyone shut up and let me think.”

-

The way the BAU treated Frank dragged your guard down further.  They were gentle, but not dehumanizing or infantilizing.  They just treated him like a human person, and you found that neat, and more importantly, Frank found that neat.  

Also, the BAU laughed at Frank’s anecdotes and jokes.  I will be fully honest.  That was more of a relief to you, especially because a decent chunk of those anecdotes and jokes were about you murdering the shit out of Spencer Reid using nothing but your words.

It really started on that very first day, when you and Spencer had gone to visit Frank.  He could see it from his hospital bed- Spencer’s hand on your shoulder, the way Spencer was very clearly trying to comfort you from some unknown upset, and that was it.

Frank said, “Wow.  Those two have sure come a long way from Doc telling him to go die in a ditch.”

And JJ, who had been questioning him, choked on her coffee and wheezed out a, “What?”  

And that was pretty much it.  Frank explained that Spencer had pissed you off, you’d hit him with the “die in a ditch” thing, and he looked so sad that you literally forgave him the next day.  (He left out the bit about the stabbing, because stabbing doesn’t just kill people, it kills moods.)

From then on, Frank was the premium source of gossip on you and Spencer.  Of course, Missy got in on it, too.

When they told Rossi about the time you’d called Reid a “shit-licking asshole fed,” the agent laughed so hard that he literally couldn’t speak for a solid minute.  Was he a big fan of the anti-fed talk?  Not particularly.  But you had gone at it with such gusto, and with such anger, that he couldn’t help but cackle.  

You knew none of this, but you knew that everyone involved seemed happier after the BAU took the case.  That was good enough for you.

-

Your guard fell because of Spencer.

Wasn’t that always the way this was going to go?

While the BAU took care of your friends, Spencer took care of you.  He made sure you got home safe.  He kept you in the loop about everything case-relevant.  He made sure you remembered to eat, which was kind of hypocritical of him, but oh well.  He offered to drive you to and from the hospital, which was a fun kind of hell, because the man obeyed every traffic law ever made, but you got to bully him for it, so it all evened out in the end.  He distracted you from the nightmare you were living through by offering fun facts.  He made the nightmare better just by being him.  

And he was the one to get Adam out.  

He didn’t announce this victory to you.  He just showed up one day, at the hospital, following behind Adam as the newly freed man burst into Frank’s room.

“Frank!  Hey, are you good man?  I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, I would’ve been, but you know how it is with cops.”

“Shit, dude,” Frank beamed, “All things considered, I’m not too bad.”

“Holy shit, Adam?” you let out a hospital-appropriate screech.

“Oh my god,” Missy stood from her place at Frank’s bedside to give him a hug.  For a moment, she held him so tightly that it looked like Adam legitimately couldn’t breathe.

The moment she saw Spencer lingering in the background, she switched from one wire-shaped man to the next.  Spencer hugged her back politely, and then, in an instant, she was onto you.

“You sons of bitches did it!  You actually did it!”

“Did we?” you asked Spencer, lowering your voice as Missy, Frank, and Adam enjoyed their reunion.

“We did,” Spencer confirmed, stepping closer to you until you were side to side, whispering to each other to avoid disturbing your friends, “We found bank statements proving that this was a targeted hit, unrelated to Adam.  We’ve only been able to find the unsub’s side so far, but it won’t take us long to find whoever contracted him.” 

“Shit- that’s both really good and mildly fucking terrifying.”

“I know,” Spencer answered almost too quickly, but he covered it up just as fast, “But it means that Adam is a free man.  It’s almost over, (Y/N).”

You let out a small exhale, trying to maintain some semblance of calm, “Almost.  Thank you, Spence.  For all of this, for everything-”

“You don’t need to thank me.  It wasn’t just the new evidence.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, there was this local criminology professor, maybe you’ve heard of them.  They were incredibly insistent that law enforcement look deeper into the case, and because of them, the conviction vanished.”

A smile slipped onto your face as you turned to face him, “Was that a joke, Spence?  You’re doing ha-ha funny jokes now?”

“I’m saying you did a good thing, here, (Y/N).  Look,” he nodded towards the hospital bed, where your friends were talking, beaming, clinging to each other’s hands like they’d been shot, traumatized, and separated for months- which was an accurate summary, actually.

At your side, you let your hand slip into Spencer’s, weaving your fingers between his slender ones.  You felt his grip tighten, his palm pressed tightly to yours.  His hands were warm.

“We did a good thing,” you whispered.

You pulled him closer by the hand.  You weren’t harsh or forceful, but Spencer still stumbled into you with what can only be described as a somewhat lovestruck grin on his face.

And then his phone rang.

You watched his face fall as he answered it.  His fingers drifted away from yours.  You could almost hear Hotchner’s voice on the other end.  The call only lasted a few moments, but it changed everything.  The air in the room grew heavy.  The room fell silent.

“We found the unsub.  My team is confronting him now, I-” he paused.

“They want you to go with them.”

“I have to.”

A shaky breath escaped your lungs, and you were kinda pissed at it- how dare that shaky breath reveal how you actually felt?  How dare it break free from your body, alerting Spencer that your world had just spun out sideways for the millionth time that week.

You were gonna square up with that fucking breath.

But first, without saying another word, you nodded towards the door.  Spencer nodded back.  Like that, he was gone.  You watched him go.  You stared at the empty doorway after he’d left.   The room remained silent.

I mean, it did until it didn’t- your friends couldn’t watch that and say nothing.  I don’t think anybody could.

“Holy shit, you’re just gonna let him leave without saying goodbye?” Adam asked, looking between you and the door so quickly that you were almost surprised that his head didn’t fly off.

“He’s down bad,” Frank whispered, nodding in agreement, “Go get him.”

“I- he’s gonna be back in five minutes,” you tried to reason.  It didn’t work.

“He could be back never!  He might die!” Missy ran forward, gripping your shoulders.

“He’s got a bulletproof vest-”

“THERE IS SO MUCH THOSE THINGS DON’T COVER!!” Missy progressed to shaking you, slightly, “Go get him!  Hurry, before it’s too late!”

“I really don’t know what you want me to say here.”

“Tell him you’re also down bad!” Frank exclaimed, no longer whispering.

“Down bad-?  What the fuck does that even mean,” you said, your voice growing quieter and quieter as you left the room and headed down the hallway.

“... Y’know, they taught me what ‘down bad’ means.”

“Same.”

As your friends continued to discuss, you were already halfway down the hallway, walking as fast as you could given the hospital setting.  Spencer was nowhere to be seen and you really didn’t have time to look.  You really had one choice.  The elevators.

You reached them just in time to watch that lanky noodle motherfucker step inside.

Giving up on decorum, you raced through the hospital corridor, yelling out apologies at every human person you passed- fortunately there weren’t too many, so it wasn’t like you caused a massive disturbance.  Most people just thought you were having your rom-com finale moment.  Maybe some part of you was trying to, but honestly, you weren’t really thinking about it.  You were mostly just thinking, “Shit, shit, shit, I have to get in that elevator.”

And you did!  You made it!  You stumbled through the doors and came to a stop in the middle of that tiny box.  Spencer reached out to steady you, his expression letting you in on his amused confusion.  You smiled up at him, trying not to pant- and then you came to a realization.

You had no fucking clue what the hell you were going to say.

To be fair, what the fuck is a person supposed to say in that situation?  “Heyyyy, my friends think I’m in love with you, so now I’m here, wanna talk about that before you head into a dangerous situation involving a hitman and many guns?”

Or perhaps, “Hey!  You’re a good person even though I keep insisting you aren’t one, so I want you to know that you’re a good person before I send you off to get murdered!”

Or maybe, “You’re hot, I’m hot, wanna spend the next thirty seconds doing terrible things to this elevator that will get us forcibly removed from this hospital?”

Or even, “Hi, you just did a really nice thing for my friends, and I really appreciate it, and even though I don’t express it, I do care about you a lot, so maybe don’t die in the next few hours.  For me.  Please.”

In the end, you just settled for, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Spencer replied, not taking his hands from your shoulders even though you were more than steady, “Is everything okay?”

“Okay?  Yeah,  yeah, everything is, um.  Everything’s fine.  I just-”  you froze again, because seriously, what the fuck could you say right then and there?  What could you say that would let him know everything you wanted him to know?

“Are you sure?” he looked at you, held you with such delicate concern.  You kind of wanted to partake in elevator ruining activities with Spencer until the two of you got kicked out of the hospital together. 

“Yeah- yeah!  Everything’s- I’m okay, it’s just,” you raised your hand, letting it hover between the two of you for a moment before you placed it over one of his, “Come out of this alive.  Make sure everyone else does, too, but… come out of this okay, okay?”

Spencer hesitated.  And then he wrapped his hand around yours and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles ever so briefly.

“I will.  I promise.”

The elevator bell dinged.  You’d reached the parking lot.  Spencer let go of your hand with a different kind of hesitation.  

“I’ll see you soon,” he offered, “Okay?”

“Okay.”

Spencer disappeared into the parking lot, dashing out of sight and into danger.  You stood there, watching until the elevator doors slid shut and that infernal box pulled you back up again.  The humming metal lights above and the clanking metal around you harmonized into the perfect soundscape for your empty mind.

Spencer was heading into danger, as he always did.  You were returning to serve your community, as you always did.  Spencer might not come back, and you would always remain, and you realized that when the case was over, he would go back to Quantico with the BAU, and you probably wouldn’t see him ever again.

And it broke your heart a little bit.  Maybe more than a little bit.  A little bit, perhaps.

You were a long way from, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, go die,” indeed.

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie, @iiheartbowie, @digitalhearts, @corpsebridenightamare, @ghostatrixx, @reiding-writing, @mywellspringoflife, @80katie, @ms-ks-world, @logicalhorror if you asked to be tagged and i forgot, pls let me know!! if you would like to be tagged and aren't, also let me know!!

[bb-olicity]

On An Island Alone

It’s been 3 weeks since Chenford’s breakup and I feel like I’m on an island… alone.  The day after 6x06 aired, I made the decision to walk away from The Rookie. Well, at least until after the finale. I’ll decide if I'm walking away permanently once I check online and see how the season ended.  And before I go any further, to anyone who wants to say I'm not a true Rookie and (most importantly) Chenford fan: I have just as much right to stop watching the show as you do to keep watching it.

So why am I choosing to no longer watch the show?

The main reason I started watching the show in the first place is/was Chenford and I can’t sit there and watch them redo Seasons 4 and 5A and I won’t. Especially considering the fact we already know from Eric’s comments to TVLine they’re not getting back together by the end of the season finale.  I do not see them getting back together until at least the midseason finale next season.  Actually, if I’m being completely honest, I’m not sure they will get back together or if they even should.  I know me saying that will make a lot of people mad, but after reading Melissa and Eric’s post-episode interviews, I got a sense of finality when they were talking about Tim and Lucy’s relationship as a couple and the breakup.  Plus, I honestly don’t see how they can come back from what they did, which leads into the other reason why I’m not watching anymore.

Tim’s whole storyline rubs me the wrong way in so many ways.  They could’ve brought in his military past in so many other ways and still had him struggle without destroying his character in the process.  As it is, the storyline feels extremely forced just to cause drama for the sake of drama and, for me, irredeemably destroyed Tim’s character.  They completely erased 5 ½ seasons of character growth in the matter of only 1 ½ episodes.  And I'll never be able to see Tim the same way again, even if he goes to therapy.  I personally would never be able to trust him again and I honestly don’t see how Lucy could either.  That’s also why part of me feels like they should not get back together. Yes, I know it’s a short season and everything is condensed, but Alexi and the writers should not have done the storyline this late in the season, knowing they would not be able to do it justice with only 4 episodes left and not knowing the show’s fate by the time they finished filming the finale.  Since they were planning to break them up, I feel like they should’ve done it at the end of the premiere or by 6x03. That way there would’ve been time for Tim and Lucy to work through their struggles individually then work them as a couple by the end of the season.

Why do I feel like I’m on an island alone?

After the episode aired, a lot of the fandom was angry and a good number said they were done to show.  However, over the last few weeks, I’ve noticed that number dwindling and a lot fans are now justifying the breakup who weren’t before and they have absolutely every right to.  I can see where they’re coming from, to a certain extent.  Tim and Lucy both were hiding things from each other since they started dating and would just gloss over things that needed deep and meaningful conversations to work them out.  That said, I personally will never agree with the breakup or the whole (Tim’s) storyline and will always maintain the breakup was completely unnecessary and they could’ve (and should’ve) stayed together and worked through their struggles as a couple.  So yeah, I’m on an island alone… and that’s okay.

[mapsofnonexistentplaces]

hai im very curious about bolots ability to turn into a cat. is it a trait he was born with or is it learned? what form does he generally prefer?

hehe favorite thing to talk about regarding that guy. this requires some setup so bear with me a bit

so the general workings of magic in OAR are a bit vague and i don’t want to rationalise them too much but effectively i think magic is just a thing that certain people are randomly born with whilst simultaneously being something that people can develop if they spend a lot of time in a place with ‘magical inclinations’. zdrengen, the town where argent rattle takes place, is a ‘well of magic’ due to being on an arbitrary metaphysical border with the realm of subconsciousness known as the dream world. so basically magic in this world is not so much a practiced science or something really publicly acknowledged so much as it is literal ‘dream logic’ that allows people to do certain things, whether they are born innately with their abilities or sort of grow them out upon living in a place drenched in dream logic. it is a very meta framing that has a very magical realism edge to it so it’s tough to explain but hopefully that works

bolot and his sister alena were directly born in zdrengen to immigrants originating in places lacking proximity to the dream world. so neither of the two really ‘inherited’ their powers through lineage and i’m tempted to say that that cannot really happen since powers are highly individualised? but i digress. effectively bolot developed his transformation ability because he’s been living in zdrengen all his life and had heavy exposure to dream logic (realising now — i suppose the way i describe dream logic sounds like radiation? befitting considering this story takes place after partial nuclear fallout, hah) and so he has been able to ‘practice’ and train his ability to full control

anyway, i want to say bolot’s powers developed when he was around like? 12? 13? young teen who was starting to become very aware of his own body and Did not like it. dude textually struggles a lot with body dysmorphia and more subtextually, dysphoria, and also has undiagnosed me/cfs which would’ve probably kicked in hard in his early teens too. much like a fever breaking in he sort of had random spontaneous bursts of turning into a cat uncontrollably, which peaked with heavy emotional instability and also post-exertional malaise. this was evidently very very scary but as he learned to expect it and sort of decided to take advantage of it in lieu of just hiding until he turned back to normal, he discovered his fatigue went down significantly as he occupied a smaller body, and the inhumanity of such a body quelled a lot of his own judgements about himself, at least momentarily. in the coming years he started sensing when transformations would occur and in turn, his powers became responsive to his feelings, allowing him voluntary control of his transformation alongside the ability to repress it. i want to say by his mid 20s he managed to get that shit down completely and so started to think of his powers as a very, very good thing

in his current age he basically prioritises his cat form, finding it the most comfortable. when going out for small errands or just idle wandering he’ll transform and then just set upon the streets of zdrengen poised as a feral cat — many people either know or suspect him having the ability to transform into a cat, but it’s kind of an open secret at best and he elects to believe he’s being subtle about it. part of his comfort with publicly being a cat is, as mentioned, a result of his insecurity in the physical space he takes up and his disability, but also significant is his typical discomfort in social situations and most conversations. being a cat limits his voicebox to that of a cat’s, so he sort of feels it’s more justified to onlookers if he doesn’t respond to things or does not express the ‘correct’ emotional response expected of him. being a cat is very much a matter of comfortable privacy for him….

he’s usually only really in his human form if he has to go out for Important Business, if he has to assist alena with something, or if he’s hosting guests at his place, the latter of which he’s slowly grown increasingly more comfortable with doing over the years. enough so to host intermittent piano lessons for anyone willing to pay for them, at least… and of course it goes without saying he’ll turn into a human when he needs to perform motor actions that are literally impossible for a cat to do, such as playing an instrument, which is his job! that being said he’s also capable of only partial transformation, which keeps him relatively humanoid — he’ll often stick to this for indulgences like piano playing for when he needs to be focused and comfortable….

fun fact also, the way dream logic works is that there is kind of a limited supply of it per month or something, much like an internet connection lol. if too much of it is used up it gets throttled and becomes unbearably slow for everyone. everyone in town with powers has an imposed limit of how much magic they can use and bolot often slightly oversteps it — though actually being a cat does not cut into the power supply any transformation back and forth does, and he often shifts multiple times a day. he gets nagged about it by the guy in charge of said power supply, qasim, but qasim often lets this slide anyway since they’re friends and he knows of bolot’s whole depressive dissociative thing so he’s just like Fine slow down for the next few days if you can though. they’re funny

[prototypesteve]

Just venting.

I was trying to write a Facebook post (yeah, I know) to come out to the handful of people who I haven’t come out to, yet.

They’re all Gen X, and varying degrees of evangelical or otherwise conservative-leaning. That means they all grew up in an extremely allonormative, amatonormative, heteronormative world where all the movies were “boy meets girl” all the queer people were hiding, and God created the universe as a place for married people to bang in. They grew up in a world where there didn’t seem to be any asexuals and—to their biased recollection—hardly any queer people, either. The kinds of friends who need to know that they’ve actually known “one of those people” for decades, because maybe it can help them start to see past all those normativities.

They’re all friends I’ve known for years, but they knew me when I thought I was “just like them”, but not very good at it. They saw me go through what I’d now call my “fake-it-till-you-feel-it” relationships, but what at the time really were my sincere attempts to “grow up and settle down with someone”. Point is, they have every reason to presume that I’m not asexual, and that maybe no one is.

On top of all that, they’re nearly all mildly-conservative parents, now. They’re constantly told their children are being actively targeted for indoctrination by a coordinated Gender Agenda, designed to turn them all into one of “the alphabet people” as part of a bigger plan to turn everyone away from God and red meat.

And it’s for those friends that I’m trying to write a Facebook post explaining that, after decades of confusion, I realized that I’ve been asexual my entire life. I was asexual before there were widely-shared labels for it, and I was asexual all those years we were friends, and through all the stuff they saw me go through.

And I know they have the capacity to see that it’s true, and I know our shared faith actually talks about asexuality despite all the cultural shit we layered on top of our scriptures, and I know that I know myself. I should know how to write that post. But I can’t. It’s like I can see and hear and feel every “but what about” and “but have you” and “but then why” that will come at me with every phrase I write, and it’s just fucking exhausting because I want to stop hiding this but I’m just so goddamned tired of having to explain and prove and defend and justify and negotiate permission to be me.

[dramatic pause]

Fuck.

This is the Facebook post, isn’t it?

Update: I told them.

[wibixthecowboy]

Play the Song: Part 10: Hope

Task Force 141 needs a new sniper and despite their complaints, they're assigned Flash, a joke-making, ABBA-listening, 20-year-old sharpshooter with better aim than the whole team combined. In other words, Ghost is practically handed the love of his life but he needs time to adjust because she's a firecracker.

Warnings/Tags: !graphic depictions of panic attacks!, references to suicide attempts (no descriptions), references to SA (no descriptions), Age gap (20/30-32), gore, descriptions of injury/blood/wounds, justified angst, tooth rotting fluff, slow burn, protective ghost, family dynamic, big brother soap has an attitude problem, father figure Price, wholesome brother Gaz, touch starved Ghost, eventual smut, praise, choking, thigh riding, unprotected (wrap it up people), size kink, oral f receiving, ghost will do anything to get his dick sucked, idk I’m sure it will get dirtier as I go, shifting POV  

A/N: Hello!! I am back! Thank you all for being so patient and amazing, I present to you, Chapter 10!

I will be adding warnings/tags as I upload new chapters so do me a huge favor and double check before you read! Nothing too bad YET but just make it a habit! They will always be added at the top of the list.

Words: 6k

Side note: All of these characters are fictional! Please don’t be weird about their real life actors, leave them out of this and be respectful!

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Tag list: @urfavsunkissedleo @butskii @abbiesxox @itsasecrets-things @thatonewriterthatnooneknows  

    ★Flash   

The knife squelches grotesquely when Ghost pulls it from the man's neck, and it's casually wiped on the waist of his button-up. Red blossoms over the white cotton and despite knowing it's not from him, Flash can't help the small hitch in her breath.

It's presented to her hilt first, just inches from her face, but she's frozen in shock. The man's body lay awkwardly in the gravel, like a puppet whose strings have been cut, blood pouring from the now open wound at his neck. His chest stutters in an effort to pull oxygen into a pair of failing lungs. She can see the glowing reflection of windows in his wide, dark eyes, and moments later, the slow loosening of his facial muscles as he dies.

Ghost is watching her, and she can hear a faint mumble. Her name?

"Flash. We need to go" Ghost's words ring through her head like a bell and she snatches the knife from his hand before sliding it under her dress and into the sheath.

He moves quickly, throwing the limp body over his shoulder with ease before walking to the car and popping the trunk. Flash's eyes are glued to him as he drops the body in. The thud when it lands is deafening. A hot flash washes up her spine and she tries not to think about how casually Ghost closes the trunk and wipes his hands clean on his trousers.

Not quite knowing how to help, Flash walks over to the small patch of blood and kicks at the gravel. It doesn't do much, just creates a dusty sludge that bleeds into the soft velvet of her heels. Not that it matters though, the man's radio is already going off, a muffled and rather irritated voice calling out from inside the trunk.

When she's satisfied with the muddy brown concoction, Flash jogs over to the passenger door and slips inside. The door barely clicks shut before Ghost is speeding out the gates and swerving around a rather annoyed looking valet.

Flash watches over her shoulder for any sign of disturbance but instead notices Ghost's wolf mask tossed haphazardly on the back seat. In all the chaos, she'd missed him swapping them out. His usual balaclava has been pulled back on, hiding the strawberry blonde curls she'd had her hands in just minutes ago.

Flash's head thuds against the seat when she's finally sure no one is coming after them and she sags further down into the plush leather.

"Holy fuck." She breathes out and swallows what could either be vomit or a laugh. "There's a body in the trunk."

"Yes."

"You just killed him."

"I did."

"How did you-"

"Flash?" He interrupts her, eyes not leaving the road as he speaks. "Be quiet."

She glares at him and turns to make an off-hand comment about him being an ass but stops when she sees how rigid he is. Maybe she'd pushed a bit too far tonight. Maybe she hadn't pushed him far enough.

"How do you know he's not innocent?" She speaks softer this time, hoping she could sweet talk him back into the charismatic James she'd spent the night with.

"No one there is innocent Flash." His voice is cold and distant and entirely fed up with her pushing. She's on thin, thin ice.

"You could at least let me know next time. That really wasn't a fair warning."

It's petty. She doesn't need his warning, it's their job. But her mouth seems to be speaking on its own accord.

The ice cracks, echoing through the cavernous silence between them, and right as she's about to slip into the frigid waters, a life raft is thrown her way.

'What's your status?'

Price's static voice stops Ghost's response and he snatches the radio from where Flash had tossed it in the cup holder.

"Heading to the med bay now. Single casualty."

'Got caught up at the end then?'

"Somethin' like that."

The rest of the ride to the med bay is spent in silence. Flash stroking her fingers down the velvet nose of her mask and not thinking about ways to flay Ghost.

_____

    The cold concrete of the barricade seeps through the thin silk of Flash's dress and into the marrow of her bones. Despite Las Almas being a sauna during the day, its nights are shockingly cold, and in the middle of the desert with no buildings to block the brutal midnight wind, she is freezing.

"How much longer is this going to take?" Flash speaks into the cupped hollow of her hands. The warmth of her breath does practically nothing to stop the shivering.

Ghost had radioed into the med station a few minutes before their arrival to announce that they'd have a 'drop off' and to call in another car for the two of them to take back to the base. When they'd gotten there, Flash was immediately tugged through the main bay and into a blindingly white room that smelled so strongly of disinfectant, her nose still burned. She was patted over by a female nurse, given a curt nod, and pushed back out the door and towards a waiting Ghost. He'd mumbled something about waiting for a car and then walked them outside to a small retaining wall near the entrance.

"I don't know."

"Can't you just call them?" Flash asks, kicking another piece of gravel across the lot. The kicking had started as an attempt to scrape the congealed dirt and blood off her heel, but it only resulted in a thin layer of dust that covered both their shoes and a small hole.

"Call who Flash?" Ghost sits half hunched on the wall, arms supporting him on either side, legs crossed at the ankles, and looking utterly defeated.

"I don't know? The guy who's bringing the car?" She kicks a particularly large rock and it skitters across the pavement and bounces off a metal barrel, making a satisfying ring, so she does it again.

"I don't have-" His voice cuts off as she kicks another rock. "Jesus fuckin' Christ. Could you stop?"

"Don't be so fuckin' rude." She mumbles, and just to piss him off more, kicks another rock. Hard enough that when it hits the barrel, a small dent is left behind.

Flash watches through her periphery as he heaves a sigh, drops his head into his hands, and roughly rubs at his masked face.

She only lets herself feel guilty for a moment. He was the one ruining it. She'd been having fun at the gala. Despite the less than stimulating conversations, watching Ghost woo the various partygoers of Las Almas had been rather intriguing. Not to mention the dancing. Jesus Christ the dancing.

While the banter with the rest of the team had never gone as far as fucking her for god's sake, they certainly weren't holding church sermons. Price had chided her more than once for distracting the team while they were on the field and she was resting comfortably on the couch, radio in hand.

As soon as the words had left her mouth though, muttered into the silken hollow of his collarbone, she knew they were true. As much as he frustrated her, there was something about his presence that activated something primal inside her. That same primal feeling that had surfaced when she'd had him pinned to the ground and wheezing beneath her. It was addictive and dangerous.

"I'm sorry."

The words are spoken into the palms of his hands and although they sound forced, they seem genuine enough. She breaks from her all consuming thoughts and tugs at the hem of her dress in hopes that it would somehow extend to cover the bare few inches of skin that press into the cold concrete.

"Just don't be so uptight all the time." Flash bumps his shoulder with hers and offers him a small smile. "You'd be surprised how much better your life would be if you stopped all your huffing and puffing."

"You don't know shit about my life." The words are meant to be sharp, to ward her away from prodding further, but he speaks to his dust covered shoes.

"So tell me."

This stops Ghost's fidgeting. Flash thinks for a moment that he'll get up and walk away, leaving her to freeze to death alone. But he eventually drops his hands to his lap and raises his head to stare at the dark horizon.

"It's a lot."

Flash, despite his hunched frame and tired eyes, bumps their shoulders again.

"I don't see the car, and you can see for- I don't know," She peers dramatically down the road, "about ten miles."

"Ask Soap. He's a better storyteller than me." Ghost words are shortening, and Flash can see the wall she'd so carelessly blown through rebuilding. He's evading, and if she doesn't save it in time, who knows how long it will be until he's talking to her again.

"But I don't want to hear from Soap."

"You don't want to hear it from me either."

Flash sighs and then redirects. "What's your biggest fear?"

Ghost stills next to her, but this time she can see the hard set of his eyes softening, reluctance slipping away into indulgence.

"I thought you wanted to know about my life." He comments lightly, and Flash can't help but feel accomplished for recovering what little progress she'd made.

"I think fears tell a lot about a person." She hums, hoping her last-ditch effort at having a conversation sounds at least somewhat inquisitive.

Ghost's head tips up towards the sky, brow furrowed in thought.

"Throwing up."

"That's your biggest fear?" Flash doesn't have to ask to know that he's humoring her.

"What? Did you expect somethin' worse?"

There's a beat of silence, and then Ghost is speaking again.

"What's yours?"

"Dogs."

Silence again.

"Like pugs? Or-"

Flash shoves his shoulder and laughs loudly. "No you asshole. The big ones."

Despite the topic, a whirlwind of butterflies erupts in her stomach and the sound of their fluttering reaches her ears, filling them with a low hum. Then he's laughing. Not the small huffs from their usual teasing, full-stomach laughs. The whirlwind turns into a storm. It ravages her mind, twirling the sound into a song and repeating it over and over.

Flash stares at him, speechless, afraid that if she speaks, the storm brewing inside her will somehow escape and drench the both of them in things she'd rather leave unsaid. She wants to tell him to never stop, to ask exactly what she'd said that was so funny so she could repeat it every day for the rest of their time together. To peel off that damn mask and watch every minuscule movement of his face.

Ghost doesn't seem to mind the lack of response though. When his amusement has faded to a small smile under his mask, his head lolls to his shoulder and he closes his eyes.

They wait the rest of the time in silence. Ghost unmoving and still resting his eyes and Flash unabashedly staring. Even though she knows that the idea is ridiculous, he seems to be warming the space between them. The ice that she'd so carefully tread on before melting away.

He doesn't open his eyes until the car rolls up in front of them and a casually dressed man tosses the keys in his direction. Ghost catches them in his hand and stretches languidly when he stands, revealing a small sliver of skin along his waistline. With his back turned to her, Flash stares at the strip, burning it into her memory.

"You can kick rocks all night," Ghost slips his hands into his pockets and starts a slow, casual walk towards the car, "but you're not going to get what you want."

"And what's that?"

Flash's question is meant to be coy, to push yet another button. But the song left playing in her ears softens her words, they come out quiet and searching.

"A reaction." He punctuates the last word by kicking a rock at the barrel. It hits the small dent that she'd made and ricochets back to land just a few inches from her feet.

"Asshole." She mutters and steps over the rock, ignoring the urge to pick it up and chuck it at his head.

Flash bites her tongue when the thought of teasing him about their dancing comes up. She'd most definitely gotten a reaction out of him then. But she instead follows him and slips into the passenger seat of the small truck.

It's certainly a downgrade from the Porsche. The smell of dust and sweat fills her nose and she debates waiting outside until the med team is done clearing the other car. But Ghost is already buckled and turning the key in the ignition.

"Who's car was that?" Flash asks while pulling a worn seatbelt over her shoulder.

"Alejandro's."

She can't help but laugh at his response. They'd most likely be getting an earful upon their return. It doesn't take a genius to see that he takes care of his car.

The truck, despite running just seconds ago, is just as cold as the air outside. When she jams her finger into the heater button, the vents remain stagnant.

"Shit." She huffs and resorts to shoving her hands under her shivering thighs.

Ghost, seemingly without thinking, tosses her his suit jacket.

"Here, stop whining." He's back to his gruff, nonchalant manner of speaking, but it lacks its usual stiffness.

"You aren't cold?"

"No."

"I guess you are built like a fuckin' polar bear." The words slip out before she can stop them, but Ghost just shakes his head, still sporting the small smile from before.

"Do you ever have any consequences for what comes out of your mouth?" Ghost's question is spoken as a sigh. He props an elbow against the car door and leans his head against it, steering with one hand. The motion is achingly domestic.

"No." Her reply is muffled as she burrows herself into the jacket, warm from being stuffed under Ghost's arm while they waited.

It's true. There's very little that she could say or do that would get her in any sort of trouble. She's a hot commodity, and it didn't take much for people to realize. Ghost just hasn't had a chance to see it yet.

"One of these days, they're going to come back and bite you in the ass."

"Oh, you'll scare them away." She looks up at him through her lashes, but he's focused on the road.

"I'd let them get a few good hits in. Then maybe."

Flash's grin is hidden beneath the coat, but she's sure he can hear it when she speaks next.

"You wouldn't protect me?" Her question is coy. She knows it and he probably does too.

"You don't need me to protect you."

"But if I asked you to?"

There's a pause, and she watches his side profile shift as he clenches his jaw. His fingers tap against the steering wheel. Once, twice.

"Yes."

_____

    They're nearly back to the base when she slips back onto the ice and into the freezing water. This time though, there is no life raft.

"I'm dropping you off." Ghost is exacerbated, clenching the wheel with both hands now. "You're not missing out on anything."

"Then why does it matter if I go or not?" Her question is a half yell, quieter than her first complaint, but louder than necessary.

Their easy back and forth, borderline flirting, conversation only lasted a few more minutes before Ghost mentioned he'd be dropping her off at the base before meeting the rest of the team at a local bar to 'celebrate'.

He'd told her, not asked. Told.

The not so quiet rage that had been building over her last few weeks stuck at the base rears its ugly head. Apparently pinning him to a mat didn't make it clear enough. She's tired of decisions being made for her.

"Because you aren't needed there."

Ghost's words bleed through her like a freezing wind. She grapples to hold onto the song in her ears, but the fluttering in her stomach increases and this time it's deafening.

"You know, for how much you mope. You put a shit ton of effort into ruining your friendships."

It's a low blow. But the anger burning hot in her stomach scorches the fluttering and thrums through her veins. She wants to hurt him.

"There's nothing there to be ruined."

The words are empty. A shell of his earlier reprimands. And Flash knows it's a weak strategy to push her far enough away that he can rebuild his wall in peace. But that doesn't stop the words from burrowing deep into the space between her ribs and wrapping around her lungs. It fills them with a cold air and the jacket still wrapped tightly around her shoulders does nothing to fight it.

"Okay." Flash bites back the flurry of emotion driven insults threatening to pry their way out of her mouth. If it were anyone else, she wouldn't hesitate to rip them to shreds, but she knows Ghost is lying.

The rest of the ride to the base is a painful silence. Flash can see his jaw working in her periphery, he wants to say something, but he remains quiet and focused on the road ahead of them. She glares at him and then turns to stare out her window.

When the car whines to a stop in front of the depressingly dark outline of their base, Flash doesn't bother saying goodbye when she slips from the car and drops the suit jacket on her seat. She's just about to shut the door when he finally speaks up.

"Hope."

"What?" Flash's voice is bitter and unrelenting.

"You asked what my biggest fear was." He doesn't look away from his grip on the wheel. "It's hope."

The furrow of her brow softens for a moment and sympathy begins to ebb away at the rejection burning in her stomach. But his words ring through her head 'you aren't needed' and any expressions of comfort beginning to form die on her tongue.

She watches his face for a moment, waiting for him to turn. When he doesn't, she lets the sour words slip from her mouth. Simple but effective.

"I think you're just scared of yourself." She doesn't give him time to respond before shutting the door and walking towards the base, trying her best to ignore the burning behind her eyes.

_____

    Flash's next few moments are a whirlwind. Swapping her dress for the sweats and t-shirt flung on the floor that morning, jogging back to the kitchen to look at the grocery list style of numbers on the fridge, and calling Alejandro.

If he was with them at the bar she'd just have to stew in her room until Gaz came back. Although he'd probably be intoxicated and an easy target, she needs some way to dispel the hurt and anger pulsing through her veins.

Much to her surprise, he answers within the first few rings and twenty minutes later he arrives with a bottle of wine in hand and Valeria tow.

"Rude of them to leave you to celebrate your success sober." He had murmured while pulling a container of strawberries from their fridge. Gaz would kill her for eating them, but consequences seemed nonexistent at the moment.

She's leaning against the counter now, watching the way his forearms move while expertly slicing the strawberries. Valeria stands next to her speaking in a low tone.

"So," She starts, turning her chin resting in her hand to face Flash, "how did you end up here?"

Flash shifts to lean her hip into the counter, reluctantly peeling her eyes from Alejandro's smooth movements, and wonders what version of her story she wants to give.

"Same as everyone else. A fucked childhood that left me with no other option."

It was a half truth. Starting a conversation by telling someone she'd won scholarships to nearly every advanced military school in the country by climbing to the top of the performance ranks in less than a year isn't something that people could relate to. Childhood trauma on the other hand is a jackpot.

"Ah." Valeria's smile softens and she turns to look at Alejandro, who's now pouring the wine into three glasses that have seen better days. "We've heard that one plenty of times haven't we Ale."

When he nods his head, Valeria turns back to Flash with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Now tell me the truth."

Flash accepts a glass from Alejandro and stares into the deep maroon of the wine before answering.

"I'm good."

"That's it?" Alejandro's laugh is loud and echoes through the empty room. "You've made it this far by being good?"

"I'm better than good." She offers, still not looking up from her glass.

Warm fingers slip under her chin and bring her gaze up to meet a pair of enveloping brown eyes.

"Don't be shy." Valeria's words are a quiet murmur. "You weren't so quiet earlier, what changed?"

Flash's jaw clenches, who was Ghost to make her feel small? Her gaze holds Valeria's when she speaks next and although her words are quiet, they're more confident than before.

"I'm the best you'll ever meet."

"There's my Pantera."

Valeria drops her chin, scoops up her glass and the bowl of cut strawberries, and slides so gracefully onto the couch that Flash wonders how she's not the one being named after a panther. "Come, sit."

Alejandro leads the way and claims the opposite side of the couch, leaving Flash to sit between them. It's a comfortable arrangement, there's enough room for them to sit and not be crammed together, but the weight of both their gazes makes the space seem impossibly smaller.

"What do you usually talk about while celebrating?" She asks, leaning over to grab a small handful of strawberries from the bowl Valeria left on the coffee table. It's a poor conversation starter, but the silence between them has Flash shifting on her cushion. And from the smile on Alejandro's face, they know.

"Do you really want to know?" He continues lowly when she nods her head. "We debate who we want to take home for the night."

Valeria tuts at him, "Don't be so brash Ale. We talk about other things too."

Flash brings her glass of wine up to her mouth in an attempt to cover her shocked expression but realizes that this means she actually has to drink it. Without giving her brain enough time to overreact, Flash tips a mouthful in and swallows. The taste is horrendous and she doesn't bother hiding it.

Alejandro laughs loudly at her expression and Valeria just shakes her head with a small smile, "It's meant to be sipped, darling. Not swallowed."

Not wanting to embarrass herself further, Flash just sets the glass down on the table and returns to the fruit in her hand.

"You could have said that." She mumbles against a strawberry pressed to her lips. The tart of the berry is a sweet reprieve from the rotten taste of the wine. The two sitting opposite of her seem to have no problem with the taste, leisurely sipping as though it's something to be savored.

"So Flash," Alejandro's eyes dance with dangerous excitement. " Are you a virgin? "

She chokes on a half-chewed berry, "Excuse me?"

"Just general questions. I ask everyone." He gestures behind her. "Right Valeria?"

"Right."

Flash remains silent, rubbing the cool of the strawberry against her lips and willing the blush away from her cheeks.

"Have you ever been kissed before?"

"Yes!" She blurts her answer out and all it does is set off a round of laughter between the two of them.

Her first kiss had been with a- for lack of a better term, boyfriend at the academy, Jake. A twenty three year old recruit who'd got a little too excited when she'd pinned him. He never did more than peck her on the lips though, arguing that anything else would distract him from his work. She broke things off three days later.

"Have you ever had someone's tongue in your mouth?" His blatant question catches her off guard. Although the pink hue of his cheeks show the effects of the wine kicking in. She's spent enough time with Alejandro to know that this is just the way he operates, on a 'better to ask for forgiveness than get permission' basis.

Flash shakes her head lamely, giving up on the stoic, unresponsive act. It clearly wasn't working.

He sets his glass on the coffee table and crooks a finger at her, smiling devilishly.

"Come here, let me show you something."

She sets her handful of strawberries back in the bowl and glances back at Valeria who gives her an encouraging nod. Flash uncrosses her legs and leans forward, expecting him to give her a quick peck.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

She's about to ask him what he means when he brings his hands down to her waist and pulls her up to straddle his lap.

"What are you doing?" Her voice is breathy and light and her stomach rolls with nerves. Although it's not what she expected, she's not one to complain.

"Relax Rubia." His face is just inches from hers, "Do you want me to show you what you're missing out on?"

Nerves race through her veins and the heat of Alejandro's hands on her waist burn straight through her skin and into the heat of her stomach. What's the worst that could happen? Gaz had talked about having sex with other team members, surely a kiss wouldn't hurt. All she can muster is a short nod of her head.

Alejandro is the light at the end of her tunnel of pent-up frustration and by god is he bright.

"Words." He chides.

"Yes."

Although she's given permission, his advance is painfully slow. The hands gripping her waist, guide her to sit back on his thighs, and brush her hair behind her ear in one smooth movement, before resting gently against her cheek.

Warm lips press softly against hers and she practically melts in his hands. He's surprisingly gentle, pressing two light kisses to her lips before nosing at her cheek and placing another over the burning skin.

"She's a Pantera Alejandro. I'm sure she can handle more."

Flash jumps at the sound of Valeria's voice. She's moved to sit next to them, lounging on the cushion and watching with a cocked head. She smirks at Flash's surprise. She didn't even see her move.

"Slow Valeria." He chides. His low voice is spoken into the soft spot below her ear, words caressing her skin and whispering down her spine. "We don't want to spook her."

Lips part against her neck and the hot press of his tongue is followed by a cool stream of air. Flash chokes on her next inhale and swallows down the ragged moan threatening her ego. Nothing Jake ever did felt this good.

"Did you like that Rubia?" Alejandro's voice is light and teasing.

"Yes I-." Before she even finishes her answer, he's doing it again, this time following the lick with a quick nip of teeth. Her response turns into an embarrassingly loud half-whimper.

"You're a tease." She bites out, pausing on the last word as he mouths his way back up to her ear.

"Ah, but you like it. No?"

Flash doesn't have to see his face to know he's smiling. It's taken him less than a minute to turn her into putty, and now he's happily kneading.

When he presses his lips to hers this time, the hot slide of his tongue at her lower lip parts her mouth in a gasp. He wastes no time. Weaving one hand into the hair at the back of her head and the other squeezing at her waist, Alejandro kisses her fervently and without abandon.

The room spins beneath her, weakening her knees. If she wasn't held fast to Alejandro's lap, she'd probably be on the floor. The taste of strawberries and wine fill her senses and twirl her into a daze.

The hands previously resting at her side slide up the muscular length of his arms and into his hair. It's not quite as long as Ghost's but her fingers still easily grip at the soft waves. Ghost. A pang of guilt threatens to pull her from her reverie, but Alejandro quickly snatches her attention back by taking her lower lip between his teeth and biting down.

A defensive flare burns up her chest and she bites back harder. Alejandro groans into her mouth, the sound burns down her chest and settles low in her belly. The hand that was gripping at her waist slides up and to the small of her back, arching her into his chest. She presses close and can feel the hard muscle of his abdomen through the thin cotton of their shirts.

When he breaks the kiss, there's a strand of saliva connecting their mouths. He doesn't hesitate in pulling her back to drag a slow lick up her parted lips. Jesus fucking Christ. Dark eyes watch her closely when he pulls back and Flash is seconds away from begging him to do it again when a warm hand at her waist pulls her attention to an impatient looking Valeria.

"My turn." She murmurs, voice soft and low. "Can I kiss you?"

Flash, despite Alejandro's earlier insistence, can only nod in response.

She is identical to Alejandro in her slow start, dragging a soft hand over Flash's brow bone before swiping her thumb across slick lips. Fingers pinch Flash's chin and pull her forward. Valeria's lips are soft but her kiss is anything but. The hungry lick of her tongue gives Flash little time to adjust, but when she does, a delighted tremor wracks her body.

Warm hands slide beneath her shirt and then Valeria is pulling her down to grind against Alejandro's thigh. A moan is pressed into Valeria's mouth and electricity courses hot through her body.

Alejandro is quick to stop them. Large hands close over Valeria's on her hips and hold them still. She wants to pull them off, to give in to the warm sensation Valeria's hands are creating. He's persistent though.

"Valeria." Alejandro's words are a clear warning but his voice is thick and heady. If she didn't know better, she'd say Alejandro was enjoying this just as much as her.

Much to her disappointment, Valeria listens to his one-worded order. She rolls Flash's bottom lip between her teeth before placing one more kiss against her mouth and settling back.

Flash is left in a daze. Half-lidded eyes watch as Valeria straightens the hair that Flash had been pulling at just moments before.

"Just touching Mi Amor." Her words are breathy and the apples of her cheeks glow a soft pink.

"I was just showing our Rubia here what she's missing out on. I am not looking for a death threat."

Alejandro's words have her turning back to gaze at him in confusion. Although the lustful tint to his eyes is still present, he seems to have pulled himself together a lot quicker than Flash.

"Death threat?" Her voice is wrecked and Alejandro smirks at the sound. Whatever scrap of ego she had left lay tattered on the ground.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed." He caresses the side of her face, proving to be an awfully good distraction from their conversation.

"Noticed what?" She breathes and turns to Valeria for an explanation. The woman just smiles and tilts her head to the side in an artful manner.

"You seem to be haunted by a certain ghost Flash." She tuts at her. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

"You mean Ghost?" She rushes, still recuperating from the mind numbing kiss that she'd gotten from two different people.

"Yes, Flash." Alejandro laughs it away like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"That man doesn't care about anyone other than himself." She says and swings her leg back to sit in her spot. Suddenly, sitting on Alejandro's lap isn't as exciting as before, and the once warm feeling in her stomach turns heavy.

"And that's where you're wrong." Valeria swirls a finger along the rim of her glass before gazing up at Flash through dark lashes. "We just had to dip our toes in before you're off the market. God help the bastards that try to trespass."

Flash flinches at her metaphor, "I'm not a piece of property." She glares at the two of them and their shockingly calm demeanor. Speaking as though they didn't just have their tongues in her mouth just minutes before. Her heart still beat wildly in her chest, and the cold taste of the strawberries did little to cool the heat of her cheeks.

"Honey," Valeria reaches out to stroke her calf, "the moment you signed that contract you became a piece of real estate."

She's saved from responding to another cryptic metaphor by the familiar sound of doors slamming shut. Not wanting to be barraged by questions from the rest of the team, Flash grabs the bowl of fruit, mutters a small goodnight to the pair staring at her from the couch, and rushes off to her room.

So much for blowing off some steam.

_____

    Flash is sitting cross-legged on her bed cleaning the blood flecked knife with a polishing cloth when a knock sounds through the room.

"Come in!"

She doesn't have to ask who it is. The stumbling and laughing are telling enough.

"Stop." Gaz's giggle sounds easily through the thin wood of the door. "I got it!"

The door swings open to reveal a relatively drunk Gaz and Soap. Hair mussed and cheeks pinkened, both look like they've had an eventful night.

"Hello gorgeous." Gaz drawls. "Wiping away the evidence of your most recent murderous rampage?"

Flash can't say she's not impressed at his coherency. She almost lets him off the hook. Almost.

"Don't make me have to start over." She points the knife at him and then gestures at the door. "Out."

A half hour ago, she would have welcomed the playful banter and taken it as an opportunity to wrestle him to the ground. But the weight of the day has her pinned to her bed.

"Aw, she's so mean." Gaz's head drops to Soap's shoulder and he doesn't shove him off.

Flash thinks back to Gaz's earlier confession and eyes the point of contact before glancing down at the relatively small space between them. Interesting. When she looks at Soap though, his eyes are trained on the knife balanced in her hand.

"Ghost let you borrow one of his knives?" His voice is incredulous and he takes a hesitant step forward.

"What?" She looks down at the silver case in front of her. She hadn't even noticed. The case was nearly identical to the one that was always neatly polished and tucked carefully into his breast pocket. "No, he bought these for me at the market."

"Oh." His mouth tips down and she recognizes the familiar expression of rejection. He's usually pretty good at keeping his emotions in check, she has no doubt it's the alcohol coursing through his blood that's giving them front row seats to his inner turmoil

Gas buts in oblivious to Soap's pouting, "So he's buying you two matching knives? Seems like it's getting pretty serious. Are you sure you're not fucking?"

Flash chokes on her next inhale. She'd have to get better at locking her door if this was going to become a regular occurrence.

"You know." Gaz looks at her with a devilish smile. "Just because Price went dark during your guy's little dance doesn't mean we did."

Oh fuck.

A/N: I’m currently dying (maybe that’s a tad dramatic) in bed with the flu and am in desperate need of entertainment. If you have any questions or comments, feel free to leave them in my ama! <3

[firecrackerhh]

I sometimes wonder if the reason (if not at least one of many reasons) why antis are so against Hazbin Hotel as a show (besides the obvious anti viv bullshit) is because the very concept of redemption is anathema to them.

They do not believe people can change, and thus the entire premise of hazbin, (and frankly helluva too) is something they literally cannot understand. Refuse to understand at the least.

They don’t care about other people, they do not care if their actions in the name of their own twisted form of justice causes undue suffering, they simply want to be seen as a “good person” without putting in any actual effort to be good.

Sure, it’s easy to find a shitty person online and rake them over the coals for things they’ve said or done years ago. Effortless. But it takes real patience, compassion, perhaps slight firmness but certainly no undue cruelty to convince people they need to change, and even then, that’s a personal journey that others can at most try to influence, but they can’t make people change.

And even if the person they’re bitching about does, it’ll never be good enough.

There’s nothing Viv can do to change these peoples minds, nothing we can do. No matter how many apologies she gives they will never accept it. No matter what we say they will never accept that Viv is not fucking Satan incarnate.

Engaging with these people is a waste of time. Always has been. If Viv is so irredeemable to them, they likely look at us the same way.

I wonder what skeletons people like this must hide, anyone who acts holier than thou about being a “better” person while engaging in reprehensible behavior themselves is a rather irritating form of hypocrisy that boggles my mind.

I am no saint, god knows I’m no fucking saint, but I know what’s right and wrong and antis are wrong every. Single. Time. Any evidence they claim to have of Viv’s awful behavior is either nearly a decade old and thus clearly irrelevant given the people who vouch for her in the present, doctored discord messages (which even if they were real, shows no dates, so we have no idea how old those are to begin with) or the ‘evidence’ is so flimsy that if a lawyer looked at it he would say you’re wasting his time.

I think these people don’t like Viv’s shows because they are morally incompatible with it. They do not believe in redemption. They believe once you’ve fucked up in life, that’s it, no second chances.

I fear what they must think of our current prison population. I fear what they might say.

These people have no moral high ground whatsoever.

They dare to talk shit about the fandom, Viv, anyone else associated with the show, pretending that they’re saying what they’re saying in the name of justice, as if attacking people with their past when they have clearly changed and made apologies is in any way a justifiable thing to do.

They don’t have to like Viv, they really don’t, but calling her irredeemable, calling us irredeemable, is fucking bullshit.

None of us are irredeemable.

The fucking conceit. The fucking gall. The fucking balls on these people.

Everyone has the capacity to make good and bad choices in this life. Yes, many people don’t make the best choices, but that doesn’t mean that they should be stoned to death for the most minor of offenses. For shit that’s long been in the past and apologized for.

I’m not going to say I think very highly of humanity as a whole, I’m a fucking misanthrope through-and-through, but I don’t think we’re incapable of being good, or doing good things, we just…choose not to, a lot of the time.

I also do not deny that there are some crimes so horrible that redemption isn’t even on the table, nowhere near it. But I feel like antis treat every perceived fault of Viv as some most grievous sin that must be met with full penance by…doing what exactly?

Apologize? Again, they won’t accept it.

Donate to charities or causes? She gets shit on for it, say she’s “flaunting her wealth.”

Get off the internet entirely? In an anti’s wet dreams maybe.

Her very existence makes them so mad. It would be funny if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic.

These people twist her words in every way imaginable to make her look like some horrible person undeserving of her success, without realizing they make themselves look far worse than her by several measures.

They claim she’s racist and queerphobic, but if anything acting as if BIPOC and queer people shouldn’t ever be shown doing awful things because “bad queer/ BIPOC rep” or whatever I think is just as racist and queerphobic. Minorities are human beings, and as such they are just as capable of being shitty. I already made a post about this before, so I’ll keep this paragraph short.

They claim she’s abusive to her coworkers when it seems the one person bitching about it has no problem putting other past co workers under the bus for their personal gain. Antis claim she’s abusive while engaging in downright emotionally abusive behavior (I know that sounds kinda dramatic but I’m making a point) themselves as they shit on us for the stupidest reason imaginable: liking a cartoon.

They cry about ableism while ignoring their own.

Not that I’m all that offended if I’m honest, it’s just more evidence that antis aren’t any better than the people they bitch about.

I could go on about this for a while but you get the point.

I repeat, these people have no moral high ground whatsoever.

Frankly, as much as it bothers me that they leak patreon shit and whatnot, many fans are actively warning against them, and I think the idea of someone actively choosing to give money to someone they hate just so they have more content to shit on is fucking pathetic and getting upset about it is exactly what they want.

They want you to be just as miserable as they are. They just want to suck all the fun out of this fandom, I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again, these people are tar pits, trying to drown us in their muck. It’s pathetic and sad. No use in having sympathy, they don’t deserve any.

It’s funny how antis scream and cry about how awful we are as they ignore their own sins and mistakes, hypocrites.

If anything, their behavior is far more irredeemable than Viv’s has ever been.

I wonder when they will realize that, if they ever do. I can only hope some of them grow the fuck up and realize what the fuck they’ve done. If the ensuing guilt eats them alive, I can’t say I have pity for them.

Wonder how many of us would accept their apologies, if they chose to make one.

Alright it’s almost 7 am I gotta get to bed. Peace.

🔥🧨~Firecracker out~🧨🔥

[wisteria-cherry]

in which the marauders don't take kindly to you being asked out and no one tells you anything

you were not unattractive, you knew that much, but there was a very specific reason as to why you so often found yourself single: the marauders. the first time you found out about this was under rather unfortunate circumstances.

"would you fancy a date?" a sweet hufflepuff boy named adrian, who was a reluctant member of the slug club and quite enjoyed muggle photography, had asked you on a date. he was cute enough, and he seemed nice enough, so you had no reason to say no; you'd love the chance to get to know him better.

"why not?" you remember smiling back at him. "let's talk about a time and place later."

however, when later approached, you got a response that you hadn't expected. adrian was soaked from head to toe, and had a small bit of kelp in his hair.

"i think i ought to call the date off." adrian stated, his demeanor sour.

"how come?" you ask, startled, and you glance him up and down. "what happened?"

"i stepped in a puddle thinking it would hardly get my shoes wet, but it was as deep as a pond!" adrian snapped. "they can keep you! no wonder you're single..." adrian stormed off, leaving you dumbfounded and confused. the confusion, however, lasted only a moment, diminishing upon the realization of just who "they" were.

"you pranked my date?" you demand, nearly tripping into the gryffindor common room. "how could you?" four boys looked up from their respective seats.

"what do you mean?" james grinned boyishly, not bothering to even try to hide his glee.

"i mean my date is soaked from head to toe, with kelp in his hair!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

"it's eelgrass, technically," remus chimed in (insufferably).

"you know what i meant."

"he was just so boring, love!" sirius whined, flopping back on the couch. "you couldn't possibly have thought that a date with him would go well. he's a wet blanket, the prank was fitting."

"i could've found that out for myself, sirius." you snap. "what was going through your head when you decided to sabotage my date? how long has this been going on?" suddenly, everything made sense. the way no one ever seemed to stick around, even when you knew you'd clicked. the boys exchanged looks, before looking back at you and shrugging.

the gall! you thought to yourself.

"we've just got to make sure you're dating someone worthy!" james said finally. "can't have you dating a complete washout, now can we?"

"james," you groan, but you really couldn't argue. you didn't want to date a washout, either, but that didn't justify their means.

"you dodged a bullet with adrian." remus slid a bookmark in his book, shutting it quietly. "he can hardly take a joke, either, pranks aside."

"i can't believe you're on their side." you exhale. "well, if i can't date who i'd like, who can i date?"

"you can date sirius!" james said loudly, and grinned widely, a gesture that soon spread to sirius as well.

"oh, shut up." you snort.

"i'll have lily, and you'll have sirius, it'll be perfect!" james insisted.

"what about remus and peter?" you raise an eyebrow.

“peter hasn’t got the guts to ask a girl out, and the way moony’s going, doing nothing but studying, he’ll be a bachelor forever.” james sent a pointed look at the two of them.

“i do too!” peter insisted. sirius snickered. “in fact, there’s a girl i’m seeing right now!” sirius’ snicker turned to choking.

“you? who on earth is seeing you?” sirius demanded.

“you’ve got a girl, peter?” you ask, startled by the sudden news. he’d never brought up a girl before.

“a very nice hufflepuff named olivia.” peter beamed smugly.

“a hufflepuff.” james groaned.

“that explains it.” sirius rolled his eyes.

“she’s quite nice!” peter said.

“at least he’s got a girl.” remus rolled his eyes at james and sirius. “you lot haven’t been able to convince the people you fancy to go on a date, and it’s been much longer that it has for peter.”

“yeah, at least i’ve got a girl!” peter gloated.

“listen, it’s only a matter of time before lily realizes she likes me.” james insisted.

“sirius, you fancy someone?” you look over to the gray-eyed boy. “who?”

“it’s a secret, love.” sirius grinned boyishly. “no girls allowed.”

“no fair!” you protest indignantly. “sirius, i want to know too! i deserve to know! i can help!”

“i don’t need help, i quite know what i’m doing.” sirius said calmly, nearly infuriating you more. james snickered.

“yeah, she’s practically swooning over him every time he speaks to her,” james teases.

“she does? but i thought—“

“not now, wormtail,” james interrupted. “she can’t know, it’ll ruin the fun.”

“remus!” you turned to your friend for support, but remus glanced at sirius (who, behind your back, was shaking his head ‘no’ madly) before shaking his head sympathetically.

“sorry. afraid i can’t.”

“you lot are the worst, no wonder peter’s the only one with a lady.” you groan, immediately causing an uproar from james and sirius.

“alright, now—“

“hey!”

hopeless.

[weebsinstash]

Ugh okay I’m not sure if this will really fit with ur ideas but whenever anyone brings up group yanderes I’m always drawn to a specific scenario: Reader, by some miracle, gets a significant other outside of the group that, again, by a miracle, they don’t know about (I’m thinking, in this scenario, Reader travels through universes often to hang out with different spiders, and in a universe they visit frequently, they sneak off and see someone whenever the local spider is doing their spider stuff). Said s/o breaks up with Reader and they’re obviously upset. The group starts freaking tf out because their darling’s upset and not telling anyone what’s wrong, while Reader’s going through a whole internal conflict because they know they’ll be in trouble if they tell the truth, but also they know their ex will be in MAD trouble, so they’re desperately trying to hide the whole situation, which only makes things worse as the group descended into chaos, knowing that their darling is hiding *something* and not telling anyone. The whole spiderverse is working together to manipulate you/figure out what’s going on. People like Jess, Pav, and Gwen try to approach you as sympathetic friends who you can vent your issues to, while characters like Miguel and Hobie are much more upfront in telling you to tell them what’s going on, not even asking. When the truth does inevitably get revealed, it’s hell on earth for both you and your ex. (Bonus; imagine if said ex actually hurt you in some way other than breaking up, like admitting to cheating or was generally cruel to you either during the relationship or just in the breakup. The fury of your captors would be biblical)

God and from their perspective some/most of it is justified because you're walking around SIGNIFICANTLY more depressed than before, you're starting to become more anxious and jumpy, and with some people you're outright lashing out in anger if they press you on the subject, so like, even if some of the Spiders are trying to invade your privacy or even manipulate you, from their side, there's no telling how serious this problem actually is, or if it's nothing to be concerned about (in the grand scheme of things, you having a fight with your partner isn't some world shattering event, but to THEM it's 'wait Reader's been dating? who???' And like virtually no matter who it is, if they're a Normie they aren't good enough by the Society/your group's standards. Although technically if dating could potentially interfere with any of your future canon events, well, then you have a particular spicy papi very upset with you...)

So like, I haven't seen all clips of Miguel's scenes and speaking lines yet but I've been spoiling myself to a little more (I aim to see spiderverse on the big screen this weekend so I was kinda leaving some to surprise, fucking hid all my wax and edibles, im gonna dry out for a few days and hit some dabs and see this shit in IMAX and itll rewire my fucking brain shits gonna be so good) but oh my god this man gets so fucking scary. He's just on his brooding platform already stressed as fuck which is a constant state he lives in at this point and here's Jess and Peter B as concerned parents to fill him in on their concerns, what they've seen from you: sudden increased self isolating, crying more, becoming more withdrawn and quiet, refusing to talk to them about it, trying to spend all your time alone. Miguel just, trying to tether the last pieces of his mental sanity together as he decides to go visit you personally, and he can immediately tell you're hiding something from all the darting glances to the fact you don't want to look him in the eyes.

Like can you imagine, I guess it depends on how you see Reader "going about", like do they have their own home universe or whatever, but, Miguel hasn't confronted you himself yet and he decides, fine, you want to keep secrets, good fucking luck, and all of his dimensional watches he's given out are probably connected to the same servers and systems so he just, looks up your travel log and quickly identifies that you've been visiting the same universe repeatedly, but none of your friends seem to know why you would be going there. Say you've been hanging around in Gwen's universe and Miguel assumes, oh maybe you're spending time with Gwen, maybe that emo little drummer said something to upset you, but Gwen looks confused (and a little upset) when it turns out you've been apparently popping in her universe without even saying hi? And Miguel is gritting his teeth because he's starting to form a theory on what's going on and he doesn't like it one fucking bit

He teams up with Jess and Peter B and Gwen and some of your other pals and he starts triangulating your bracelet and. Wow what the fuck you're in Gwen's dimension RIGHT NOW. So then they all race towards your location to watch from a distance, some real loony tunes, "all 6 or 7 of us are hiding behind the same tree" bullshit, and, there you are from a distance, out of costume as you're clearly very upset, talking to someone that, most of the Spiders recognize instantly minus characters like Pav and Jess and Miguel and there's this resounding GROAN OF DISGUST "oh god, NOT FLASH THOMPSON" (for Spiderman lore newbies this is literally the character that bullies the fuck out of Peter Parker in high school like literal actual shoving him into lockers shit)

Peni uses her mech to send out a listening device and everyone is comically gathered around as they eavesdrop and start getting progressively more furious as they start piecing things together: you HAD been there to visit Gwen initially, but somehow you met Flash out of costume and the jockey SOMEHOW managed to woo you, but the relationship quickly became manipulative and controlling until you eventually caught Flash with another person. They're all GRITTING THEIR TEETH as you're in tears, asking him what you did wrong, where did you mess up, and Flash basically tells you to your face, "you're nothing special, I got bored of you"

Your little groupie gang of platonic and romantic yandere WITH STEAM BLOWING OUT OF THEIR EARS as you whimper "but... you-you said you loved me! We SLEPT together!" And he just. Fucking laughs in your face, SHOVES YOU, and calls you a slut before walking away with someone else on his arm

Gwen absolutely seething as she reflects on how Flash treated her Peter and Pavitr is swearing curses onto his entire family line meanwhile Hobie just like "oy would it break canon if I smash my guitar over that pisser's head". Peter 'I just wanna talk to him' B Parker as he hands Mayday off to Jess while cracking his knuckles. Miguel is, well, upset about like 10 different things because God fucking damn it, how long have you been hanging around with non-Spiders in other universes? (Do you think the Spider Society would be like, more than just a little possessive and insular, since youre supposed to be part of the Ha Ha We're All Spiderman club and they catch you hanging with normies over them) Is there anyone else? What have you been doing? He's just instantly a mixture of furious and hurt because damn it don't you know you're like his favorite, why the fuck are you running around potentially flirting with canon, don't you know how dangerous this is

But also deadass he wants to tear that man apart with his claws and he's considering checking the canon events of this universe to see if he can make it so

The Gang just watching as you pick yourself up but can't stop crying, and you drag your feet as you head to sit in a park or something, seeming like your entire form and surroundings are nothing but a depressed, deep blue. You're in a park or something so they can't exactly approach you normally because there are people around, but you just sit there crying for ages before you eventually pick yourself up and draaaaaag your feet, seeming to walk around aimlessly until, eventually, you go to a dark alley or under a bridge somewhere and they all pop out at you just as you're about to warp home anyways and you're just immediately bombarded by all these people

"Hey, you know what he said isn't true, right? Dude's a punk bitch!"

"Scuse me? I take that personally. He IS a total fuckin wanker though"

"Hon, you can't let what some ego-tripping blonde who peaked in high school said make you feel like this! He ain't worth it!"

And you're just standing there looking at them as your heart breaks a little more because you HAD been wanting some kind of support in all of this but you're muttering out with disbelief, "you guys followed me...?" And you're really hurt by that, but, here comes Miguel, stalking forward, putting a hand on your shoulder that's one part sympathetic comfort, one part possessive anger as he glowers at you with chestnut eyes that almost look RED, "anything else you wanna share?"

Miguel marching back to the weekly We Love Reader meeting and slapping a graphic up onto the wall with your face like a PSA "THIS Spider FUCKS and only YOU can stop it" fhfjfjg no not really but like non yandere Spiders are doing their own thing when, from a secret meeting room somewhere in Nueva York, the ground practically shakes with dozens upon dozens if not hundreds of voices crying out in agony "NOT FLASH THOMPSON 😩"

Bonus points if like, one of the things The Gang had witnessed was you crying and all that right, but, what if Reader had specifically said to Flash, "but I gave you my VIRGINITY" like. Mayhem. Pandemonium. All the Spiders have a sudden "aha!" because wow no wonder you suddenly started talking about how you're worthless and don't matter, this DICK HEAD lured you into a false sense of security and trust and then took your virginity and bounced while calling you a fucking loser and judging by that shove, has maybe even put his hands on you before? Like fuckinnnngggg The Society and your entire friend group freaking the fuck out one day because you have a black eye one day you were trying to hide with sunglasses and you say it was from a Villain but they're all like Nah Fam That's Sus because how would a villain pop one off on your face when you have super strength and Spidey Sense and they get you/intimidate you to open up and it's like, oh, that was because your "boyfriend" didnt like how you thought you smelled someone else's perfums/cologne on him and he lost his temper when you pressed him for answers, and even when you tell them the truth you're still crying with a small laugh, "it was my fault, I should've backed off and realized I was upsetting him"

Reader just gets surrounded by all their friends and "the cute Spiders" like the cat Spiderman and oh my fucking god there's a plushie Spiderman and just, gosh, they try to basically smother you with love to cheer you up and bring your confidence back but your heart has been wounded and needs time to heal 🥺 regardless, later on Detective Stacey is having to investigate and finds Mr Thompson in an alleyway with a busted knee that permanantly ends any sort of athletic career and the words "CHEATER" cut across his body in multiple places while he's covered in scratches, bruises, bites, and he keeps mumbling the weirdest most incoherent shit under his breath that gets him hospitalized

"The- the pig... it TALKED... it pulled out a HAMMER... from its POCKET... the pig... had ... POCKETS..."

[baronessblixen]

Hi! Big fan here😊! If you're still taking prompts: Mulder being obviously jealous with Scully and Sheriff Hartwell in Bad Blood, thank you!😊

Thank you, sweet anon! Here it is. A post-ep for "Bad Blood" obviously. A jealous Mulder, an attempt at humor and the hint of angst may be found here. (wc: 1,349)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 30: Feelings You Can't Hide

Buck teeth.

He can’t believe Scully is into overbites when- no, he’s not going down that road again. The same thing happened last year when Ed Jerse showed up. Not that Mulder ever met the guy, but he’s seen pictures. What a funny twist of fate that Sheriff Buck Teeth and Mr. Tattoo look like they could be related. His Scully has a type. And Mulder is not jealous. At all.

He reminds himself of that fact every two seconds, lest he forget to smile and not make another biting remark. Whatever his feelings are, Scully deserves more. That’s the reason why he pushed her towards the Sheriff in the first place. A mistake he now very much regrets. He should have known. He of all people, who’s been seduced by his own vampire before. Whatever happened – and either Scully doesn’t remember or doesn’t want to tell him – she’s still wearing the sheriff’s coat.

And he’s still not jealous at all. Not even an iota. Well, maybe a bit. A fraction. He glances over at Scully, almost disappearing into the coat, her hands in the pockets. His blood coils. It’s anger, he justifies. That guy could have done god knows what to Scully. The hospital cleared them both. There was nothing wrong with them.

Mulder winced internally when rape kits were prepared, bu they haven't been touched in any way. There’s not a scratch on either of them. Scully’s theory is that they were drugged so that Sheriff Hartwell and the others could disappear. He thinks she’s right, but so far all he’s done is nod along.

“Are you gonna keep wearing that thing?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does. Scully musters him, obviously trying to understand what’s wrong with him.

“No, of course not,” she says. “It’s just warm and it’s cool in here.”

“You can have my coat,” he says, taking it off.

“Mulder, you’re gonna be cold.” Except he feels warm. Hot, even. Boiling almost. “Take it,” he says, sounding like an asshole. He hears it, and judging by Scully’s puzzled expression, she does, too. Still, she takes his coat, slipping out of the other one. Mulder can breathe more easily.

Scully giggles when she holds up the sleeves, her hands barely peeking out. The sound opens something in Mulder. He watches her out of the corner of his eye, her sight causing a pandemonium of emotions inside him.

He can no longer deny it; he is jealous. Whether it’s a vampiric sheriff, a psychopathic asshole, or a seemingly normal-looking doctor in a hospital. Scully deserves to find a nice man – emphasis on nice, and not blood-sucking or murderous – and here he is, trying his best to prevent that from happening. Because what if she does? What if the next guy they run into is exactly what she’s looking for? Sweet and kind – someone Bill Jr. will be friends with. Someone who’ll whisk her away on weekend trips where the scariest situation will involve preventing a sunburn.

“Mulder, I asked if you were ready to go home.” Scully is squeezing his arm, her eyes narrow with concern.

“Am I ready?” he asks. He's not ready at all to do this. To consider the possibility that one day - and maybe soon - she could be gone. Because of some guy who can give her everything Mulder can't.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Did they check your head?” She runs her fingers through his hair and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that they did check him for head trauma and that her way of checking is more of a caress than anything else.

“My head is fine,” he says finally.

“It better be because I’m not facing Skinner alone.” He gives her a look that he hopes is reassuring.

*

He hasn’t stopped thinking about it. About his revelation. That’s why when they talk to Skinner, he’s only half listening, reiterating everything Scully says.

“This is your story,” Skinner says, glancing at both of them across from him. They share a quick look before they nod.

“That is essentially… exactly the way it happened,” Scully says slowly.

“Except for the part about the buck teeth.” The room falls quiet. He knows he shouldn’t have said it, but he hasn’t slept well these past few nights. Last night, he dreamed about a hat with big white teeth following him around, trying to bite him. Skinner sighs, rubbing his eyes, and for once Mulder gets it. Scully’s eyes are on him and he feels them burn into the side of his face. This isn’t over for him, no matter what Skinner is about to say.

“You’re dismissed,” their boss says, directing his attention elsewhere; a clear sign that they should leave. Mulder stumbles over his own feet in an attempt to get out of the office. Scully, however, is at his heels. How she can keep up with him might be the greatest conundrum of them all.

“What was that?” she hisses once they’re in the elevator, on the way down to their office.

“What was what?”

“Why do you keep insisting that he had buck teeth?”

“Why are you always attracted to idiots?” Another thing he knows he shouldn’t have said. “I’m sorry, I-… I haven’t been sleeping well.” It’s a flimsy excuse and the fire in Scully’s eyes doesn’t dissipate.

“You’re one to talk, Mulder. This was unprofessional. In front of Skinner. It’s bad enough when you made fun of it before but in front of our boss? What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’ll say. Why are you so obsessed with what he looked like?” He owes her this. But first, he’s saved by the bell. The elevator door opens and Scully steps out first. He follows the click of her heels until they’re in their office where she leans against the desk, her arms folded in front of her.

“I’m waiting,” she says, her eyebrows raised.

“I was just surprised,” he explains. “That you’d be interested in someone like… that.”

“Like what, Mulder?”

“He wasn’t the brightest bulb, Scully. You must have seen that. I thought you’d be more, um- I thought maybe you’d go for someone who’s more…”

“More what?” she asks.

“Someone who’s intellectually on your level.”

“Like you?”

“I didn’t say that,” he replies too quickly and he sees the corner of Scully’s mouth twitch.

“I may have thought that Sheriff Hartwell was nice enough looking,” she says, sounding almost bored. “I wasn’t planning a life with him. And you just- should I remind you of Detective White?”

“Who?”

“Oh, come on. Or Bambi.”

“Bambi was a scientist,” Mulder says defensively.

“Yeah, she was,” Scully mumbles, looking away. “Either way, I have to deal with you being… interested in other people way more often than the other way around. And I don’t ascribe them physical attributes they don’t possess. So what was that?”

“I’m sorry, Scully. I truly am. I was just-,” he looks at her. Can he say it? Can he admit it to her? If he admits that he was jealous, what will happen next? They’re not there yet. He can admit it to himself, but he’s not ready to face the consequences of his feelings.

“I was insensitive. I was worried your feelings for Sheriff Bu- Hartwell might interfere with the case.”

“That’s it?” she asks and he nods, looking down at his feet. “You’re sticking to that story?” He lifts his head to look at her. She’s not believing a single word.

“Admit he didn’t have buck teeth.”

“What? He did!”

“Admit it, Mulder. Or tell me the real reason.”

“Fine,” he says with a sigh. All he has to do is say it. Simple words. ‘I was jealous, Scully’. How hard can it be? He, the defender and searcher of the truth, is shying away from it.

“I- he didn’t have buck teeth. Happy?”

“It’ll do,” she says, before she walks right past him and out of the basement office, making him wonder what exactly she means by that.

[blue-b-bro]

The use of genre as unreliable narrator in ofmd

„But it’s a comedy!”

(I had to, sorry)

Ok, people usually take this argument out when talking about there being jokes, or getting a happy ending. It’s not dark fantasy like Game of Thrones, it’s not a mature drama, like Better Call Saul.

But in most stories the darker genre is justified by the fact that that’s realistic, that’s how the real world works. Going with that explanation, writing a fantasy like this is like an oxymoron (I’m not saying it’s a bad choice, just pointing out). Recently tho, it became popular to think that a story is meaningful or mature only if it’s realistic, the dark-way-realistic, if you get what I mean. If the story is too optimistic, the ending too happy, it’s apparently not realistic enough and so - silly. If the story wants to talk about something deep but there’s not enough misery, someone will inevitably come and point out how in real life it wouldn’t be like this and so the message is meaningless.

Going back on track: in most stories the genre is like the laws of physics of the story. Once set they’re absolute. You can subvert the tropes, cliches, expectations, but the genre stays intact. If in a story taking place in a genre expected to be more serious, more grand the author puts too many jokes, it’s bad writing. It’s against the laws of this world and shouldn’t be there.

And usually it’s ok, we have a lot of genre, we can take new approach to them, make them fresh, mix them. But I haven’t found that many stories that use A genre (not “Their genre”) so much as a tool, so explicitly as a tool to show characters perspective and worldview.

Let’s just quote what I’ve already said, because it was rather well put imo:

“Season 1 is more comedy like, because it’s from Stede’s point of view, mostly. Sometimes the lighthearted music actually doesn’t fit the scene, unless we take into account that it’s about how Stede sees this. Stede’s flashbacks aren’t funny, his marriage isn’t funny. Stede cares about Ed and so his flashbacks are treated seriously too, even more so (cause you know, Stede doesn’t care about himself much). But Izzy is treated as a joke. Stede doesn’t like him and isn’t afraid of him (because he doesn’t know he lives only because Ed forbade Izzy from killing Stede) and so scenes that are sad and depressing from Izzy’s perspective don’t get an appropriate music (like in e6 for example). The world is shown through Stede’s eyes. Ed is cool and scary and treated very seriously, Stede tries to hide his very real pain under his adventures and Izzy… He doesn’t care about Izzy. The scenes where Stede is scared make him look pathetic but when it’s Ed, it’s completely serious, because Stede treats Ed’s fear seriously, but finds his own shameful and, well, pathetic. The comedic tone is the unreliable narrator here.

Episode 8 isn’t so much comedic anymore. Stede feels out of place, pushed aside, and the whole episode feels like that. Episode 9 isn’t a comedy either, it’s seeped in self doubt and lingering regrets. Episode 10 has comedic vibe mostly during Stede’s adventurous escape and kinda during Ed’s pink robe phase. Kinda, because alone with Lucius, there’s no jokes, with Izzy too. The comedy stays on deck, with the crew, Stede’s crew that as a whole goes under the adventurous light vibe. But at the end of season 1 the vibe of the show completely changes. There’s no jokey comedy anymore. Yeah, Stede’s still a bit silly now and then, because that’s how he feels about himself. But at Ed’s Revenge there’s only 100% drama.”

Another thing is, with every episode, we get more and more alone time with Ed, he becomes a protagonist of his own. His alone scenes aren’t funny. Usually those are somber or depressing. In e10 their two perspectives part the moment Stede runs away. Since then there’s Stede’s world and Ed’s world. It’s Ed’s sky that’s pink. It’s Stede’s world where the assassination attempt is funny. Ed tries to maintain Stede’s reality on the Revenge, but it turns out bleak in comparation. There’s no comforting blanket of escapism and naivety. No one to nourish the optimism and the atmosphere of safety without Stede being here. It’s becoming more and more Ed’s world again. Depressing, dangerous, more realistic. Because Ed lost his faith in Stede’s world, it the value of love and comfort.

The divide is even more visible in episodes 1-3 of s2. Just what people were laughing about: Stede’s crew gets soup and Ed’s fights for their life. Stede most of the time bottles up his negative emotions, keeping his “realm” light and adventurous. Very rarely he let’s himself to actually feel his real emotions (in the rain, during the night talk with Lucius, maybe with Zheng, tho I’m not sure if it’s not more thinking than feeling at that moment really). Stede’s keeping his darkness hidden, focused on hope. When they meet Lucius and then Ed’s crew, the little cracks starts showing up. We start to see less of a humor and more of sincerity. Season 2 is less comedic and more sincere in it’s form. Because that’s how Stede feels, after realizing his feelings for Ed, after realizing what’s important to him, after getting him back. (He couldn’t accept Ed’s dead, so he wasn’t << “I’m not ready to believe that”) His world is more real. It’s not ignorance, naivety or detachment anymore, rather hope, optimism and having an actual goal. In season 1 Stede just wanted to run away from his life, now he had a specific goal to fix what he destroyed (no matter how much of it was really his fault).

Going back to Ed’s perspective in e1-3, we are told about his emotional state, for example, by weather. It’s also interesting how at the beginning of e2 Ed’s crying session is treated seriously, showing him feeling empty, abandoned, longing all at once. But the next day, when he recalls the incident, it’s framed like a joke. You know, how when you get an emotional breakdown and then later think “damn, that was embarrassing and unnecessary”? It was something like that. When he torments Izzy, it’s dark af, because he sees himself as a monster. The tone of a scene doesn’t say how actually important/serious/deep/meaningful the scene really is, but how the character sees it. Just as Stede saw his fear as pathetic in s1, Ed treats like that his sincerity. His abandonment is only deserved and him crying about it is pathetic, his self hate and violence in the afterlife just a dry fact, his fisherman era suddenly taking a jump into comedy the moment he feels he failed.

We can see Ed’s and Stede’s realities getting more similar, because their view on reality is getting more towards the middle. Ed gets more forgiveness and softness and it isn’t depicted as ridiculous. Stede's adventures get more bloody (the cursed ship), threats more real (Ned Low’s tortures). Buttons change was so out of the blue and unrealistic, because that’s how Ed saw the concept of change. He was so sure it’s not real and that’s why it was like a magic. That’s why he was alone, while witnessing it. Izzy was able to survive all that happened to him, because Ed believed he's indestructible and will always have his back, even if he doesn't deserve it. (if I'm right, then it's the presence of Stede that killed Izzy)

The weather, the colors show Ed’s emotions:

While Ed’s emotions were muddled and confusing in e5, we got the fog, when he was happy in the beginning, but then started to feel more and more unsure in e7 – the colors changed from yellow to gray, when he was happy about how Calypso’s birthday turned out, but then Ned Low appeared -  the colors changed from romantic pink and purple, to disturbing green and blue suddenly, as if his past, his sins poured a bucket of cold water on his head. When he thinks he will finally die, finally made that decision, he’s relieved, and sunny weather mirrors that, but in his last moment, when he has to face it, they’re in the middle of a storm. His gravy backet is cold, cloudy and so windy it’s hard to hear anything. Hell, the first time we see Queen Anne it’s in its own dark weather!

Stede, becoming “real boy” and then “a man” makes the world around him more realistic as well. After Ned tortured his crew and Ed, Stede kills the guy. After becoming suddenly famous, the world takes a step back and everything is light and funny around him again, no real danger, Stede kills the guy without even trying and it’s funny and cool, because He feels cool about all of it. But when Ed says that last night was a mistake and then leaves, there’s no more cool Stede. Suddenly his happy adventure is falling apart, his crew doesn’t want to follow him just because (because why were they always together since the end of s1?), his behavior isn’t cool anymore, but pathetic, Steak knife probably died, his tricks don’t work, because he doesn’t believe they would, not really. He doesn’t feel like it’s some cool pirate duel from pirate tales, like in e6. He feels like a failure. Everyone left him, whatever he does, apparently it’s not enough for people to stay, and when he hit the rock bottom, the Republic of Pirates gets destroyed.

The way the world works is related to what Stede and Ed believe in atm. But if they're together on screen, it's Stede's beliefs that shape reality.

So I don’t think they changed the rules of the world in e8. The rules were changing all the time, and the world became deadly during ep 6-7, somewhere there. The tone of the episode didn’t warn us, because Ed was happy most of the time, and so the color palette of the episode is light.  The left-side rule didn’t work, because Stede wasn’t as naïve as in s1 (he wasn’t sure Ed was right, but decided to believe him). Stede’s crazy plan didn’t work as in e1&2s1, because he was more aware of the risk. Stede knew they could die, knew it’s dangerous, and so it was. Ironic really.

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 31 – An Unauthorized Fan Treatise by Lauren James

This was a book (or, web fiction piece. Web serial? I’m not actually sure how it was initially released) that I read basically on a lark after getting curious seeing a few people talk about it on tumblr. So, score one for viral marketing and the convenience of reading free webfiction, I suppose – I was up until half past three in the morning barrelling through it all in one sitting. Which is all just incredibly appropriate for this story in particular.

So, the story’s a thriller/murder mystery, but specifically one about the actors on a trashy CW-style hot-young-adults-playing-supernatural-creatures-having-teen-drama style tv show, as told in the form of a sprawling series of essay-length posts by a fan devoted to proving that the two male leads are fucking in real life but forced to hide their live by the homophobic network. Things get more tangled from there.

So, as I said, very appropriate that I learned about this on tumblr. Basically everything about it is about online fan culture – there’s tens of thousands of words devoted to recounting livejournal sockpuppet drama, every chapter ends with a ‘comment section’ that’s mostly a Greek chorus but occasionally relevant to the plot, and almost literally every single aspect of the story and framing are a reference or pastiche to some famous online clusterfuck or other of the kind you’ve probably watched far-too-long video essay retrospectives of on youtube. Or I have, anyway (but then again, ninety percent of the references were a bit before my time anyway, so the cultural education was pretty crucial to me understanding what this was going for at all).

And, given all that, I ultimately found this pretty disappointing? It was absolutely readable, and enjoyable in the moment, but the metatextual commentary element meant the thriller plot at the heart of it just ended up seeming like, well, cheap soap opera. Beyond that, the framing device just seems like one giant missed opportunity, the commentary on fandom culture was in the end pretty shallow, and the shocking twist in the epilogue was, I think, just a mistake.

So okay, lets justify all of that in order.

When I say the plot didn’t really hold together for me, that might be more the fault of the word-of-mouth marketing that pointed me towards the story more than any promises the text itself makes, honestly. But I went in expecting a story about fan obsession and hallucination, projection and parasocial relationships, and all that. And downstream of that, I was expecting something a bit grounded? And the story just wasn’t either of those things; to begin with, the two celebrities the ‘fan treatise’ is about really are secretly dating and being forced to hide it, which seemed like kind of inexplicable decision to me as I read it. It’s not just that, either. Like to be clear this story absolutely has an unreliable narrator, but for a story ostensibly about fan obsession, it seems a bit odd for, lik, there to be an extended digression about how a famous actor was totally of an asshole in a livejournal fanfic community a decade previously, and then have that be revealed to be totally and unambiguously correct.

It’s less of an issue, but as I said the actual murders and intrigues at the core of the story are kind of just..ridiculous? Which I honestly normally wouldn’t mind, but- wen your story spends so much time talking about trashy supernatural tv shows and fanfic, it becomes kind of important that the ground-level narrative seem real by comparison, you know? And this had altogether too much talk of ‘the dark web’ for that.

I’m very possibly going to be putting my foot in my mouth hear (most of the specific fan cultures and pieces of drama being referenced, I only really know second hand through various salacious youtube gossip rags), but for all that the entire story’s utterly preoccupied with, in the end I found the commentary on fan culture really..shallow? Sure, the entire premise is having a laugh at larry stylinson-style RPF shipping conspiracies, the entire livejournal plot is a pastiche of the MsScribe drama, there are plenty of jokes about how m/m shippers literally forgetting about te female lead in te show she headlines, etc, etc. And they’re, largely, well-done references and jokes! Not really complaining about that.

But I’m kind of left feeling like there’s nothing really underneath it all. Which- if James had sat down a story with the explicit purpose of Saying Something About Fandom, it would almost certainly have been terrible. But between the murder plot and the revelations of Gottie’s byzantine revenge scheme (which honestly I’m consciously choosing not to think about too hard lest this just turn into cinemasins-for-books), in the end all the fandom stuff almost felt like window dressing? Elaborate, detailed, and impressive window-dressing, to be sure, but as the story went on and the plot became more clearly thriller-ish, increasingly revealed to be surface level and ornamental.

Speaking of ‘surface level’: the web serial medium and use of links here was such an incredible missed opportunity. You have an utterly unreliable narrator with a secret agenda and a grudge writing tens of thousands of words of livejournal essays about celebrities, and then you go to the effort of making actual accounts on twitter/insta/whatever to leave real links to when you cite them, and then you have her actually faithfully relate what the cited paged say? What a waste! This would have been so much better if it was 50% more postmodern and up its own ass about playing with the format. And doing so would even let you have that (incredibly obvious on one level, entirely out of nowhere and dramatically dead when it’s dropped as the literal last word of the story) reveal in the epilogue actually work!

Anyway, this all sounds incredible negative. Which isn’t entirely inaccurate, honestly, but I should reiterate that I googled this out of idle curiosity on a Friday evening and only realized it was 3am when I finished it. The negativity is more because this seemed so close to being amazing than because it was anything heinous.