#we’ve BEEN very unhappy - for WEEKS

[bibleofficial]

im soo fucking high for 11am & im living for myself

[moonstruckme]

Hey lovely!! Once again have been binging your page, and I saw you mentioned the lack of sirius in your request and I had this idea the other day! So it’s been like the longest day of classes and reader comes back completely slumped like ready to sleep a thousand years and sirius comes in to see her snuggled up in bed, his sweater on, and knocked out cold. Then he is all soft and wipes off her makeup (because half the time I fall asleep with it on and wake up w mascara smudges) and reader wakes up full of sleepy mumbles to sirius. Preferably female reader but if your more comfortable with neutral obviously do what you’re more comfortable with! Much much love to you and your writing 🤍🤍

Hi sweetheart, thanks for requesting!! Much much love to you back :)

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 895 words

Sirius very nearly sits on you. 

He thought you were out and was planning on waiting in your room for you to get back, but now he sees the evidence of your presence: your bag discarded in a heap by the door. You’re hardly more than a sliver of forehead and the tips of curled fingers sticking out from under the bedspread. He reroutes the second he sees you, straightening from his near-sit and biting his tongue to contain a curse. Your breathing is heavy and whistles slightly on the way in. You’re out cold. 

Sirius’ heart feels unbearably tender in the way it often does around you. He swears, when he gets like this even a toothpick would be a lethal weapon against him. He’s a boy made of mush.

He pulls the bedspread down so you don’t smother yourself, revealing your lovely face with tiny smudges of mascara caked under both eyes. And the collar of the sweater he’d found missing last week, the one you’d claimed to know nothing about. Sirius has every right to be angry about that. At least ostentatiously indignant, as is often his preference for dealing with your rare offenses. But the sight of you makes him more fond than is reasonable. You’ve pulled his sleeves down so only your fingers peek out, and the collar is all scrunched up under your cheek, and Sirius is fucked. 

He is absolutely, totally fucked. There’s just absolutely no way he’s got enough room in his heart for this much love. It very well might kill him. 

He keeps moving to give his heart something more productive to do. You’ll wake up feeling frustrated and extra lethargic if your eyelashes are sticky with mascara, and Sirius knows your routine well. He finds the supplies in your cabinet and barely breathes as he swipes the makeup remover over your skin with careful fingers, wiping away the traces of your day. It had to be a long one, to send you so deeply into sleep before the sun has even finished setting. The dying light illuminates your face while Sirius works. He tells himself it’s good for practical purposes as well as just making you look especially lovely. He can have both. 

Your eyes take the most persistence, and that’s when you start to rouse. 

“It’s just me,” Sirius says softly when your hand twitches up as if to feel for his wrist. “You fell asleep with your makeup on.” 

“Oh.” You relax impossibly further under his touch, voice breathy and dulled by sleep. “Thanks.” 

“Anytime, gorgeous.” He gets the last of the mascara off but isn’t ready to be done touching you, brushing the back of his forefinger along your hairline. “What’s done you in so early, huh?” 

Your eyes open for a moment, like you want to make sure he’s really there, before closing again. A pinch appears between your brows. “Headache,” you mumble. As if remembering your misery, your head sinks into his sweater like a chrysalis. 

Sirius’ brows pinch too, though your eyes aren’t open to witness his sympathy. “I’m sorry, lovebug. Did you take something already?” 

You hum in unhappy affirmation. 

“Hasn’t kicked in yet?” 

A halfhearted huff. “Or it’s not really helping.” 

He cards a hand through your hair, rewarded when the tension in your features eases slightly. “I’m sure it will, we’ve just got to give it time. Anything else I can do to help?” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh, come on, sweet thing.” He’s wheedling, covering a tad of desperation with a good heaping of teasing. “You know, I’ve been told that just looking upon me can cure a myriad of ailments. I’m like—what do the muggles have? Their god-human guy.” 

You crack an eyelid, the dryness of your expression undermined by a twitch of your lips. “Are you saying you’re Jesus?” 

“I’m saying that I’ve been told I’m sort of like Jesus,” Sirius corrects you with a grin. He rubs at a nonexistent smudge of makeup on your cheekbone. “So there’s got to be something I can do for you.” 

You release a great, heaving sigh, like your boyfriend is really asking a lot of you. But when you look up at him, there’s a familiar shyness there. “Do you wanna just lie with me for a bit?” 

“Baby.” The teasing leaves Sirius immediately. He softens like dough in your hands. “Of course I do.” He shucks off his shoes before shuffling out of his pants, knowing your rules about outside clothes in bed trump your occasional bashfulness when it comes to nudity. There’s nothing sexual about this anyway. You tuck into Sirius as soon as he’s close enough, and he brings his arms around you protectively, one banded around your ribs and the other curved over your shoulders so he can cup the back of your head. “Don’t be silly,” he whispers with faux malice, kissing your hair. “I always want to do whatever you’re doing. Are we going back to sleep?” 

“Maybe,” you hedge, but Sirius can already hear your voice stretching. You’re slipping away even as your head eases closer to him, your breath tickling his collarbone. 

He tries to match your languid tone to help along the process. “Sounds good, gorgeous. I’ll be here if you need anything.” 

Your reply is barely audible, but Sirius’ heart warms nonetheless. “I know you will.” 

[kittenofdoomage]

Midnight

Summary: New Year’s Eve brings a surprise at the end of a crappy year.

Pairing: female!reader (Y/N) x unnamed male

Word Count: 3610

Warnings: angst, mentions of break ups of long term relationships, anxiety, fluff, masked dances, semi-public smut, some mild breaking and entering, fingering, full vaginal sex, some mild feelings of unhappiness

A/N: This is another one of those "pick your character" fics that I can't really post on Ao3, so I'm posting here to wish you all a very happy new year. I hope everyone has a peaceful and blessed 2024, and that the fall of the patriarchy/death of capitalism finally comes to fruition. Enjoy!

Originally, her plan for New Year’s Eve had involved a family-size bag of Doritos and whatever movies she could find on Netflix. She had no work for the next week, no boyfriend since Andrew had dumped her in the summer, and when Dee had surprised her with a ticket to the annual city New Year’s Masquerade Ball, she had ultimately failed to provide an excuse good enough to turn it down. 

“All of us are going,” Dee had informed her excitedly, making sure Y/N had no wiggle room. “I’ll help you find a dress, we’ve got a huge car booked -”

“Okay, okay,” Y/N smiled, internally dying at the thought of an evening around strangers, even ones in masks. “I’m in.”

Maybe it would do her some good. Since the end of her relationship, she’d been unable to summon enthusiasm for anything, and she had to admit, shopping for a dress and giggling over imagined possible events at the ball with her friends was more fun than she had had in a while. She hadn’t realized just how stale her life had become, even before Andrew broke up with her.

The downside to the evening presented itself with the understanding that she would very much be the proverbial fifth wheel. Dee and Jenny both had dates for the night in the form of their long term partners, David and Leanne, respectively. Still, they assured her that they wouldn’t ignore her in favor of their company - Leanne had even offered up a blind date, but Y/N quickly turned her down, politely, because although she didn’t want to seem ungrateful, she didn’t think it would make her evening any more enjoyable. It would probably have had the opposite effect.

New Year’s Eve rolled around faster than she wanted it to, despite her excitement for the party. She started preparing ridiculously early, and by the time her cab arrived to take her to Dee’s, she was trembling with nerves. Her friends didn’t make it any better when she got there, chatting excitedly, making her feel like she’d be wallpaper the entire night. Still, she smiled and nodded along, following quietly when the car arrived to take them to the hotel downtown.

The Masquerade Ball was held in the same place every year. It wasn’t exclusive, but it was limited, another reason Y/N had been reluctant to turn down the ticket. They arrived in plenty of time to join the queue, and the chilly evening had her wishing she’d brought more than her light jacket. She shuddered in silence, keeping up with Dee as they shuffled closer to their destination, feeling more and more underdressed in her simple unembellished evening gown as she took in the stunning dresses and tuxedos everyone else was wearing. Of course, she couldn’t see anyone's faces, which made it marginally better, but she still felt underwhelming in comparison.

They made it inside within thirty minutes, accepting direction to their table in the grand ballroom several floors up. It was busy, and loud, and the dancefloor was already bustling with bodies grinding together to the late nineties pop tune that was currently playing. The ticket had stated a mixture of classical and popular music, with opportunities for “proper” dancing. Around the room there were several booths, the capitalist side of the event, and as the group seated themselves at the table, Jenny grabbed Y/N’s hand and pointed toward one booth at the back of the room.

“Look, they’re doing the Dance Card stall this year!”

Y/N scrunched up her face. “What’s that?”

“It’s like a game, people can sign up and get matched with a dance partner for a song. You can do it as many times as you like.”

“So it’s like Speed Dating?” Leanne asked, pulling a similar face to Y/N.

“I don’t think so,” Y/N giggled, shaking her head at the thought of getting up close and personal with a stranger. “I just wanna enjoy the party.”

Dee leaned into her, smiling. “I’ll dance with you, baby girl, don’t worry.”

The ballroom was filling quickly, and for the first part of the evening, Y/N stayed with the group, chatting over the music and drinking. Occasionally, Leanne would drag Jenny off to dance, or Dee would make David, but they never left her alone, something she was grateful for. She shared a dance with Dee, but quickly found the crowd overwhelming, so she remained at the table while the others took turns in dancing.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna try the dance card thing?” Jenny asked, leaning in as Dee pulled her boyfriend from the table. “Just once?”

Y/N looked over at the booth again, ready to deny it, then her gaze caught on one figure that seemed to stand out from the crowd. He was standing off to the side of the booth, leaning against the wall, a full glass in one hand with the other in his pocket, and she was certain he was looking right back at her. There was something familiar about him, not that there was anything extraordinary that would have made him stand out in the first place. The tuxedo he wore was the same as a dozen others she’d seen, and he was wearing the standard mask they were handing out on the door for those who forgot or didn’t have one.

“Oh my god, you’re thinking about it,” Jenny giggled, touching her forearm and bringing her attention back to the table. When she looked over at the booth again, the man was gone, and disappointment settled into her stomach.

“I’m not,” she assured her friend. “I thought - nevermind.”

Her mind was already wandering as Leanne distracted her girlfriend from badgering her. It couldn’t have been him, even if her gut was telling her it was. He wouldn’t be in the city, let alone at the same party she was at, it was impossible. The one that got away had gone away permanently, a long time before Andrew was even a blip on her radar, and it was just wistful thinking making some random stranger look like him.

Dee returned, breathless from her dance, though David didn’t return with her. “He’s getting more drinks,” she explained as Jenny asked where he went. The two other women took their turn to go and dance, and Y/N drew back into herself a little, realizing they were spending their time keeping her company when they should have been enjoying themselves.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly, looking at Dee, who blinked in confusion.

“For what?”

“You’re -” Y/N gestured wildly. “Looking after me, like usual. I’m a buzzkill.”

Her friend laughed. “Honey, do I look like my buzz has been killed? I can’t dance to every single song anyways, I’m not seventeen anymore.”

“You’re sure?”

Sighing, Dee leaned in, covering Y/N’s hand with her own. “You need this,” she insisted. “Since Douchebag McDouche left you - yahoo, by the way - you’ve been in a slump. And I hate seeing you miserable.”

“I know,” Y/N mumbled, sagging in her seat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so… boring.”

“You’re not boring,” Dee replied, squeezing your hand. “You just need to rediscover yourself a little.” She picked up her almost empty drink, draining the last of it. “You could always try the dance card thing. Maybe you’ll find someone to kiss at midnight. Even if it’s just for midnight.”

The idea was less than appealing but Y/N looked in that direction anyway, just in case the mystery man was there again. When he wasn’t, and she sighed, Dee frowned.

“Not up for it?”

“It’s not that,” Y/N murmured, wary of their companions returning. “Do you remember after college, there was that guy -”

“I got fresh drinks for everyone!” David announced, arriving back at the table with a tray in his hands. Instantly, Y/N fell silent, and Dee quickly realized she wouldn’t be getting anything more out of her. “Another rum, Y/N?” David asked, handing her a drink regardless of her answer.

She got to her feet with a forced smile. “Actually, I’m going to find the ladies room,” she informed both of them, stepping away and waving off Dee’s almost immediate offer to join her. The crowd wasn’t as dense as it looked, and she easily found her way to the lobby, following the posted signs for the restrooms. There was a queue that she quickly joined, pulling her phone from her purse, scrolling through her Twitter feed to pass the time.

Someone across the lobby yelled, which made everyone look that way to see a gentleman being forcefully exited by security. Y/N watched along with them, and as the scene died down, she went to turn her attention back to her phone, only to see him again. This time he was at the other side of the lobby, standing with a group of people, and when he caught her eye, he smiled, raising his drink a little in her direction. She froze in surprise, staring back, and it took the woman behind her in the queue jostling her to get her to look away.

He was gone again when she glanced back, but the queue was moving too quickly for her to do anything. Her heart was in her throat as she rushed to be done in the restroom, scanning the crowd the second that she was out in the lobby again, finding the group he was with gone and him with them. It was stupid how disappointed she was, when she wasn’t even sure if it was who she thought it was or even if it was the same person.

For all she knew, she was going crazy.

“Idiot,” she muttered to herself, heading back into the ballroom to find the table again. None of her friends were there, all busy on the dancefloor, and her stomach dropped, anxiety rushing in at her. “What am I doing?” she whispered, certain she was going to cry.

“You look a little lost,” said a man from behind her, in a voice she recognized even after all this time.

“Yes, well,” she replied, keeping her gaze on the dancefloor in case she was imagining him. “These things are more for couples, aren’t they?”

He laughed, and her insides churned with a need to see his face, to make sure it was really him, because she felt like it was a dream. She still remembered the last time she’d seen him, just the back of his head as he left, taking her whole heart with him even if he didn’t know it. “I suppose so,” he agreed, and a hand brushed the small of her back, making her inhale sharply. “Would you like to dance?”

Why was he here? How? What was happening?

She nodded, holding her questions in as he took her hand to lead her to the dancefloor, just as a slower classical number came on. Finally, she turned her head, disappointed that the mask covered his face, but recognizing his features underneath. Her heart soared, nerves gathering as butterflies in her stomach, and she couldn’t help but smile through her mask at him. He smiled back, pulling her closer as they reached a spot with enough room not to feel cramped.

Neither of them spoke. Her desire to know where he had been, why he was there, was held at bay by the simple comfort of just being in his arms. He was still fond of the same aftershave by the scent clinging to his clothes, and his hair was slightly different, but otherwise he was exactly as she remembered, and she couldn’t help leaning in to rest her cheek against his shoulder as they moved slowly to the music. Across the dancefloor, she met Dee’s confused gaze from where she was dancing with David, recognizable by her hair, and Y/N smiled at her so she knew everything was okay.

“You look just as beautiful as the last time I saw you,” he murmured, making her lift her head to look at him. “Can’t believe it’s been so long.”

“How can you tell that I look the same?” she asked playfully. “I’m wearing a mask.”

He chuckled. “I just know,” he shrugged, smirking at her.

“You’re still just as big,” she said shyly. “Your hair is different.” The music picked up speed a little, transitioning to a faster beat, and Y/N frowned as couples around them started to get a little showy with their movements. “I don’t think I like this song,” she joked.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter,” he agreed, stepping back and taking her hand again.

As they moved through the crowd, they passed Dee, who stared at the man with her in shock, recognizing him, and mouthing a “is that who I think it is” while pointing at him. Y/N nodded, not stopping to explain as he led her into the lobby and towards a fire exit. “Wait,” she hissed, “where are we going? It’s gonna be midnight soon.”

He glanced back with a grin. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “No one’s up there.”

The there he was referring to escaped her, but she had always trusted him, and she had no reason not to now. With a nod, she followed him through the fire exit, into the stairwell and away from the noise. He started to climb the steps, looking back to make sure she was with him, and on the next floor, they entered a larger, empty room that was only lit by a few lamps.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“A lounge,” he replied. “There’s a balcony we can watch the fireworks from.”

“Won’t someone catch us?”

His eyes sparkled behind the mask. “Only if we’re not quiet.”

The balcony was separated from the room by large doors that weren’t locked. Y/N followed him out into the night, feeling her breath get snatched away by the view of the city. There was a balcony on the ballroom floor too, and she could hear the music below and the chattering of people on the balcony. She pulled away from him to approach the stone ledge, unsure she’d ever seen anywhere look so pretty.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

He was behind her, one hand on her hip as he pressed into her, burying his nose in her hair. “Isn’t it?” he mumbled, though she wasn’t sure they were talking about the same thing.

“You’re really here,” she turned to look up at him, “after all these years, you came back.”

“It would have been sooner. But… things happened. And when I came back to see you, you always seemed happy with someone. I didn’t want to take that away from you.”

Guilt made her insides churn because she hadn’t been, not really. Enough to fool herself, enough to hurt herself, maybe, but she’d always known what had slipped through her fingers. “And now? How did you know I’d be here?”

His cheeks darkened. “Dee posted a picture of you guys getting ready,” he explained, a little sheepishly. “I pulled some strings. This is not actually my tux.”

“You know,” she whispered, “I had a pretty crappy year.”

“Me too.”

Lifting a hand, she pressed it to his cheek. He leaned into it, covering her hand with his own. “I never thought I’d see you again. This feels like a dream.”

“It’s not,” he replied softly. “Lemme prove it.”

She wasn’t quite expecting him to kiss her but after the split second of shock, she melted into it, wrapping her arms around his neck as his tongue slipped between her lips. The action made her moan, and he groaned in reply, clutching at her like she might disappear. When they broke apart, she felt almost high, unable to stop herself from smiling.

“We never had a chance to do that before,” she gasped breathlessly. His fingers were digging into her hips, pulling her body flush with his, and she could feel his erection through the fabric of his pants. Her body reacted with a rush of warmth between her thighs, and before she could stop herself, a lustful whine tore itself from her lips.

His gaze grew hungrier. “There’s a lot of things we never had a chance to do,” he practically growled, voice so low that she shuddered in his hold.

“There’s no one here,” she said abruptly, surprised at her own words.

Her dress was already bunching in his hands as he tugged it up. “Tell me to stop,” he grunted as he pulled the fabric higher, pressing his mouth to hers in a desperate, quick kiss. “Tell me to stop and I can wait, I promise -”

She stopped him with a deeper kiss, rubbing her hand against the bulge in his pants. “I can’t,” she whimpered.

He turned her, pulling her back against him. “You’re so beautiful,” he hummed, pulling her dress up again until it was bunched over her ass, pinning it there with his body. Sliding a hand underneath the fabric still covering her front, he rubbed his fingertips over her mound, pressing his lips to her throat. “Are you wet?”

Her answer wouldn’t come out as she struggled to process what was happening. He chuckled, working his fingers underneath the waistband of her panties, finding the answer himself when he stroked her slit. She moaned, throwing her head back against his shoulder, rubbing herself into his erection.

Two thick fingers spread her open, sinking into her with ease, and she yelped, lurching forward. The roar of the party below became clearer as she caught herself on the balcony edge. “Someone could hear,” she panted, unable to stop her hips from rocking into the same rhythm as his fingers. “They’re right below us -”

“Guess you’ll have to try and be quiet,” he replied with a low chuckle. “The fireworks will be starting soon.”

She nodded, gasping as the heel of his palm ground into her clit, thick fingers still thrusting inside her. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, and a breathy groan made her shudder and push back against him. The consistent stimulation was making her head swim; her eyes fluttered shut and her hands tightened on the stone balcony.

“Are you going to cum?” he asked. She whimpered, nodding when she couldn’t make herself speak, and he laughed again, working his fingers a little harder until the tremble that had started in her knees seized her whole body. Her cunt clenched around the intrusion, the sound of her wetness reaching her over the party noises below them, and finally, she cried out once, covering her own mouth as she shuddered around him.

His hand withdrew, leaving her bereft. She gulped down air in her brief reprieve, then inhaled sharply as his hot and heavy cock landed against her exposed bottom. He didn’t wait, thumbing the tip down until it slotted between her thighs, rubbing right against her sensitive labia. The hunger for more returned, and she tilted her hips, allowing his thick head to find its target, and she arched as each inch filled her until she could feel the soft fabric of his pants pressed against her ass. Only when he was fully sheathed did he stop, dropping his lips to the bare curve of her shoulder with a tiny, contented sigh.

“Only ever dreamed of this,” he whispered, grinding deep inside her. “Feeling you wrapped around me -” He sighed again, the same happy little noise. “Fuck -”

She whimpered his name when he pulled back to sink home again with his hands grasping her hips tightly. His height forced her to lift slightly, but he quickly bent his knees, enabling him to drive into her a little harder, forcing a squeak from her lips when he bottomed out again.

“Listen,” he grunted, leaning in close, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. Below them, the crowd was chanting, and it sounded like the whole city was too. Her lover started to count with them, slamming into her hard enough to punch the air from her lungs with every number. “Seven, six, five -”

Her pussy clenched around him, and as the countdown drew to an end, she cried out, letting the sound be drowned out by the sudden burst of fireworks that lit up the night sky. She pushed back into him as she came, and his pace quickened, his own climax filling her hot and thick as the party music struck up again from the floor below.

A pleasurable buzz left her dizzy and she clutched the balcony, letting her blurry gaze linger on the city underneath. The sensation of his withdrawal made her hum happily, and when he pulled her to her feet, she stumbled right into his arms and his kiss. His lips left her dizzier than before, and she gave him a dopey smile as he chuckled and cupped her cheek.

“Happy New Year.”

She leaned into his touch. “Happy New Year.”

“Your friends will be wondering where you are,” he murmured.

“Let them wonder,” she replied, almost drunk on him, clinging to the front of his tuxedo. “What now?”

He inhaled deeply, wrapping his arms around her. “Well, I was hoping to take you home,” he said quietly, lips twitching with a smile.

“And tomorrow?” she asked, daring to hope.

His smile became a grin. “I waited so long for this, you think I’m gonna give it up now?”

Her heart pounded as she smiled back up at him. “I was really hoping you’d say that.”

Psst, if you wanna tell me who you were imagining, send an ask or reblog 😘

[lightandheatao3]

The Bunker - Criminal Minds

Chapter 4: The Question

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

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

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

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

Chapter Summary: Tensions rise as time in the bunker drags on.

Read chapter 4 on AO3 or under the cut. All comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

“Come on man, get up.”

“What’s the point?” whined Spencer.

“The point is that muscles start to atrophy after 3 days of inactivity, and you have been holed up on that disgusting mattress for… what… like a week and half now? Longer than you should’ve been,” said Derek.

Spencer groaned. “I’ve been a bit sick, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Which is why we’ve left you alone, but you’re so goddamn shaky and thin you’re starting to resemble a chihuahua. You need to keep active, or you will just get sicker. That’s true for all of us,” he insisted.

“Come on, it’s simple calisthenics. No worse than you had to do at the academy,” said Emily, entirely too chipper.

“I hated doing it back then, too,” he said. “I would really rather never move again, thanks.”

“Of course you want to sleep all day,” said Derek. “It’s called clinical depression, Reid. It’s what happens when you replace your brain’s ability to self-regulate pleasure with heroin. You’re gonna be all fucked up for a while, but you’ll level out eventually. And you know what’s proven to be one of the most effective treatments for depression? Exercise! So get your ass up,” he ordered, nudging the mattress with his foot.

“Okay, okay, I get it. Just don’t complain when I pass out after 5 minutes,” he said, dragging himself up.

The last thing he wanted was to be roped into an extended conversation about the questionable state of his mental health.

“I’ll consider it 5 minutes well spent,” Derek said, reaching a hand down to help him to his feet.

Emily corralled them all into two lines while JJ placed herself at the front of the room, ready to lead the workout.

“Frankly, I’m with you, kid,” Rossi whispered, looking pointedly unhappy about the whole situation.

“Shut it,” said Emily.

Hotch smirked. “Pick your battles, boys.”

“Just you wait until it’s my turn to run the class tomorrow,” said Derek, positioned feet shoulder width apart and ready to go in the front line with Emily. “You’ll be begging to go back to this moment”

Rossi and Spencer both whinged, but they shaped up and did their best to mirror JJ’s movements when she called them to attention.

Spencer did not pass out, but he did make it almost precisely 5 minutes before having to very rapidly excuse himself to go throw up. After a few retches, he collapsed back onto the floor of the tiny en-suit, half curled around the toilet.

Rossi ducked his head in. “You doing alight? Need some help?”

“Just… just let me lie here for a minute.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay with you?” he persisted.

“Get back in here, Rossi!” ordered Emily.

With a swear that was barely concealed under his breath, he left Spencer to languish on the floor.

A few minutes later he hauled himself out and retook his place in the group. Nobody said anything, but Derek had an annoyingly self satisfied smile. He only made it through another few exercises before he had to stop in earnest, but, as loathed as he was to admit it, he felt a tiny bit better. Emotionally, if not physically.

Emily, JJ and Derek all sat by him. Rossi had first dibs on the bathroom to wash his clothes and Hotch… well, he was sitting cross legged on the far side of the room meditating.

Spencer didn’t know if he was actually meditating, or if he just wanted to be left alone.

He’d warmed up to them all since they had been in the bunker. In fact he was almost warmer and friendlier than he had been when they were all still close. Or, maybe not friendlier, but gentle somehow, in a way Spencer had never seen him be with anyone but Jack and Beth before.

Still, he kept a distance from them. Even when they were talking, he could feel the invisible wall.

Not that Spencer was judging. He had plenty of his own walls.

“I know you feel like garbage, Spence, but you’re doing a lot better,” said JJ, looking pleased.

“Better than what?” he scoffed.

“Better than when you were pumping your veins full of dope every day,” suggested Derek, lying on the floor in front of where Spencer and the girls were siting, clasping his hands behind his head casually and putting his feet up against the wall.

Spencer narrowed his eyes, a flash of irritation at the lackadaisical attitude. “That’s an interesting philosophical debate. Do you really think I’d be worse off high in my apartment than soberly held captive by an Unsub?”

Derek tapped his foot thoughtfully. “I think, and correct me if I’m wrong here boy genius, those are not the only two options in the world.”

“Please, Morgan, if we make it out of here alive will you teach me how to be as virtuous as you?” he said sarcastically.

“Enough, both of you,” said Emily when Derek leaned his head up to argue back. “Spencer, stop scratching, you’re going to get an infection.”

He looked at her quizzically for a split second before realizing what she meant. He had been scratching at his arms without even noticing. He stopped, slinging them both over his knees instead.

The most recent track marks were scabbed over and the extra sensory sensitivity after withdrawal was making them itch like crazy.

It’s funny how quickly he’d gotten used to them seeing him like this. He was still in his singlet and pajama pants most of the time, the long sleeve shirt functioning more as a pillow than an item of clothing these days.

The others were the same, with everyone comfortably sitting around in their underwear when waiting for their clothes to dry. They’d all spent enough time in hotel rooms together over the years not to be precious about that sort of thing.

None of them even balked at the track marks anymore. They’d gotten used to them. He didn’t know how he felt about that.

He’d always hated having to hide and having them be so delicate about the subject of his addiction, but now they were infuriatingly direct. Far from walking on eggshells, they were stomping as brashly as they pleased. Especially Derek.

It was really starting to piss him off.

That might have been because literally everything was pissing him off since detoxing.

He tried not to feel too bad about it. He wasn’t the only one who’d been a bit snippy. The complete absence of privacy and personal space wasn’t doing any of them any favors.

“Can I ask you something?” asked JJ, catching his eye.

He sighed. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Probably not,” she admitted.

A beat. “You can ask.”

She looked him up and down. Emily was glancing between them, and Derek had cracked an eye open.

“What happened two years ago?” she asked gently. “Why did you start using again?”

He was surprised it took them this long. He’d been waiting for them to interrogate him on the subject since the second that goddamn note was read out.

This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. It wasn’t one he knew how to have.

“Nothing happened,” he said softly.

“I don’t believe that.”

“Addicts relapse, JJ. An estimated 88% of all heroin addicts relapse within 1 to 3 years of quitting. I know you all think I’m different somehow, like I’m supposed to be smarter than that. That’s not how it works.”

He didn’t mean to sound harsh, but even he could hear the bite in his voice by the end. There was a little part of him that resented them for even being surprised at his relapse, as if there was something about him that precluded him from that kind of indignity. It was misdirected and he knew it.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” said JJ defensively. “If you don’t want to talk about it just say so.”

Before he could apologize to her, Derek chimed in with, “It’s what I’m saying.” He sat up. “You’re right, Reid, you are supposed to be smarter than this.”

“Thanks, Morgan. Invite me to the ceremony when they give you a Nobel prize for fixing the opioid epidemic.”

Derek folded his arms and continued as if Spencer hadn’t said anything. “You didn’t choose to be an addict, but you did choose to do it alone. If you hadn’t cut yourself off from all of us when you relapsed, we would have helped you. You chose to keep pretending everything was fine while it spiraled out of control. Every time we talked, every time you visited, I asked you what was happening in your life, and you chose to lie. For someone so goddamn smart, you've been making a lot of incredibly stupid choices.”

Hotch had opened his eyes and Rossi had re-emerged from the bathroom still holding a soapy, wet shirt in his hands.

Spencer and Derek had both stood up and Spencer wasn’t even sure when they’d done it.

Emily didn’t intervene this time. Apparently, they were doing this.

“You’re right, I didn’t ask for your help and I don’t want it now!” He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. Through gritted teeth he said, “I am grateful to you all for getting me through withdrawal and I am sorry I put you through that. Can’t that be enough for now? We clearly have bigger problems than this.”

“No.”

“No?” he said indignantly.

“No. Why won't you talk about this? What could you possibly have to say that’s worse than what we already know?” Derek demanded, volume rising with every word.

“I don't want to talk about it because I know what you want me to say! You want me to tell you that if we get out of here I’m going to get treatment and go to meetings and pinkie promise I’ll never use narcotics again,” Spencer said, matching his volume and emphasizing the words with a wave of his hand.

“The only thing I want is for you to tell me the fucking truth!”

“No, you don’t!”

“Yes, I do! I don’t care how bleak it is, just for one fucking second be honest about what you want!”

“The truth is I don’t want to do this!” shouted Spencer. “If I had heroin, I would shoot up right now, right here in this fucking room while you watched. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear? I don’t want to be fixed!”

“Why not?” yelled Derek.

They stared at each other, both breathing heavily. Spencer had been staring directly into his eyes for far longer than he would normally be able, fueled by adrenaline.

He caught glimpse of something behind the anger that in another circumstance he might have missed.

Helplessness.

Oh.

Derek wasn’t mad.

He was terrified.

The realization hit him like a physical blow.

Spencer stared at him, opening his mouth but not finding any words.

“Why don’t you want us to help? Why don’t you want to be fixed? What the hell happened to you?” pleaded the closest thing he’d ever had to a brother. “What’s your plan when we get out of here? You wanna go be a junkie, dead in a year? You had 15 years clean, man. Why are you doing this?”

His eyes burned, moisture pooling in the corners. Why? Why was he doing this?

What answer could ever satisfy them?

The air between them filled with poisonous silence.

Out of the silence came a voice, too small for him to make out the words. Derek held his gaze, fighting tears of his own, but asked to someone to the side, “What did you say?”

“It wasn’t 15 years,” said JJ, louder this time.

Another shiver of panic worked its way down Spencer’s spine.

“What are you talking about?” demanded Derek.

“He said ‘times.’ When we first got the note. He said we weren’t there the other times he went through withdrawal. Plural.”

Fuck. Why could he never just say the right thing?

Derek squared off, lifting a hand to wipe under his eyes. “JJ’s right, isn’t she.” He wasn’t shouting anymore. When Spencer didn't answer, he took it as all the confirmation he needed. “Was it after prison?”

He shot a brief look off at the others, silently urging them to step in and save him.

JJ wouldn’t look at him. She looked small. He never wanted to do this to her.

Hotch was eyeing him like he was trying to solve the puzzle of what bits of Spencer Reid had been irreparably broken in his absence. Prison had certainly done some damage that couldn’t be undone.

He looked back at Derek. “No. That was… It was hard, but no.”

“So, when?” he asked, cocking his head, waiting for Spencer to give him something concrete to fight about.

He looked back at JJ, who still wouldn’t meet his eye.

She already knew.

“Oh no,” said Emily softly, putting it together. “It was after I faked my death to hide from Doyle.”

He was torn between Derek and JJ, and all the other people in this room who his deficiencies kept hurting.

Their fight after it was revealed that JJ knew Emily was alive had almost destroyed their friendship. In retrospect, he understood she was doing the best she could with horrible circumstances, trying to protect Emily.

He also knew, equally certain, that he would have told her. If the situations were reversed and she came to his door, crying, grieving, on the verge of a breakdown, he would have told her.

She knew it, too.

He was aware that she still held tightly onto that guilt. He regretted so badly the way he’d treated her when he first found out. He never wanted to tell her this. Never.

He turned away from Derek, who was still staring at him like he’d ripped his heart out of his chest.

“JJ, please talk to me.”

He stepped forward, putting his hands on her arms. She looked up at him, red eyed and exhausted.

“You told me you didn’t use. You only thought about it,” she said, sounding numb. “I believed you. Except… I think I just wanted to believe you.”

“I’m sorry.” He pulled her into a hug. She held onto him tightly. “You did the right thing back then. My actions weren’t your fault.”

The moment was over as quickly and horribly as it began when the chamber on the door banged.

Of course this interruption couldn't have come minutes earlier when he desperately needed it.

A gloved hand reached in to deposit a brown paper bag.

Derek was slow to react, not running to the door in his usual effort to ingratiate himself to their captor through one sided conversation.

When nobody moved, the interrupted outbreak of truth and consequences weighing them down too heavily, Hotch stepped towards the door.

He moved slowly, deliberately, as if one muscle twitching out of place would set off a bomb. Spencer wasn’t sure where he thought the explosion might be coming from.

When Hotch opened the chamber and extracted the brown paper bag, he stared at it. Not moving, just staring down at the thing he was holding, presumably filled with more fruit. Nobody else moved. Nobody spoke.

In one swift and vicious action, Hotch flung the bag across the room!

Fruit scattered over the concrete in a colorful arc. An overripe peach splattered on the far wall.

They all flinched at the sudden act, but before anyone could talk, Hotch had rounded on the camera in the roof with its infuriating, endlessly blinking red light.

He spoke low, dangerous. “When we get out of here, and we will, I’m going to kill you myself. Forget life in prison, I will put you down like a fucking dog.”

Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, not realizing he’d been holding it. JJ was gripping his arm tight enough to cut off circulation. He let her. The room was cavernous, quiet, oppressive.

Hotch clenched and unclenched his fists. Emily stepped forward, mouth open, a hand outstretched towards his shoulder but not bold enough to actually touch him, yet he pulled away from her as if she had.

“I’m fine,” he snapped. He took in a ragged breath, scrubbing his hands over his face, then lowered them. This time, calmer: “I’m fine.”

He looked around the room at the scattered fruit. With another deep breath, he bent down and started gathering it up. Emily stepped forward to help him.

Spencer, JJ, and Derek exchanged looks. Spencer knew they would not be dropping the subject forever, but for now they settled on an agitated, embarrassed truce. Well, Spencer was embarrassed. Derek might just have been agitated.

Had he really said, out loud, that he would shoot up in front of them if he had to? He was almost certain he would actually follow through with that given the choice. There's almost nothing he wouldn't do to get high at this point. Withdrawal and being stuck in the bunker had only made his cravings stronger.

He had certainly not intended to tell them that, though.

The three of them broke away, moving to help Hotch and Emily. JJ grabbed the paper bag for them to consolidate the food, while Derek moved to clean the peach that was dripping down the wall.

As Hotch dropped his handful of citrus and apples into the bag JJ was holding, he paused. The rest of the room paused too, waiting to see what he would do.

“It was my call to keep everyone in the dark about Prentiss. It was cruel to put that on you.” He looked around at the rest of them. “It was cruel to all of you.”

“You did what you thought was right,” said Spencer. He locked eyes with JJ. “Both of you did.”

Hotch eyed him off, picking him apart in a way that made Spencer want to bury his face in his hands like a little kid, desperate not to be seen. He resisted the urge.

“You still don’t believe it was the right call,” said Hotch eventually, a statement not a question.

Spencer frowned. “No,” he said honestly. “But I know you believed it. That’s enough for me.”

Hotch shook his head. Clearly, it wasn’t enough for him.

Emily looked between all of them, grey hair falling oddly prettily over her shoulders as she swiveled her head. “I mean, if we want to play the blame game, it’s really my fault for keeping you all in the dark about Doyle,” she pointed out. “Or Doyle’s fault for creating the whole mess. We can go even deeper. In a round about way, it’s really my mother’s fault I got into intelligence in the first place. We can all blame my mother! Trust me, it’s one of my favorite pastimes. It’s cathartic. Go ahead,” she encouraged.

Derek laughed. Even JJ cracked a smile.

“I really dislike your mother, so this is compelling,” deadpanned Hotch.

Emily chuckled. “Yeah, she hates you too buddy.” To the room at large she said, “I know we’re all going a bit crazy in here, but everything we’re feeling has to be secondary to the ultimate goal of getting out. I’ve been thinking about that, and-”

“Emily,” said Rossi, wet, half-washed shirt sitting discarded on the floor, forming a puddle.

Spencer hadn't even registered that he hadn't spoken or helped with the cleanup, caught up in the interpersonal drama as he was.

Emily looked at Rossi quizzically.

Spencer’s blood ran cold. It was crumpled from having been tossed across the room with the rest of the bag’s contents.

Rossi held a folded piece of paper in his hand. With it, a photograph, the edge of which was just sticking out between the folds. He offered it to Emily. “Sorry,” he said sympathetically. “Looks like you’re up.”

[peoplefromheaven]

Purging the home

If you’re like me, and you’re bad at throwing stuff out, here are some tips to help. It’s still not going to be easy and you will probably still feel guilty about certain items, but that’s normal.

1: when did you last use it? Was it 6 months ago? A year ago? Did you even know you still had it? If that’s the case, toss. This goes for unused clothing hangers, toys kids don’t use, those really beautiful bowls you just couldn’t leave behind and then never used, etc.

2: How often do I use those things? For me, this mainly goes for clothes. Pants I’ve worn once, don’t really have an outfit for in mind, donate and make someone else happy with it. This also goes for makeup, skincare, haircare…

3: what’s the condition of the item? If it’s an easy fix and I still want the item (e.g. ripped seam in a stuffie)? In a box, have I not fixed it within a week, toss. Fixes that will take more time and money than getting a new one? Toss. Kitchen accessories that look like they’ve been in war? Toss. You deserve beautiful things.

4: expensive items. This one is one of the hardest, but keeping expensive items for the sole reason of them having been expensive, is only going to create more clutter. Do you still use it? Do you still love it? If not, toss. You’ve already lost the money, clinging on to the item is not going to bring that back.

5: why are you holding on to that item? Is it guilt? Cost? Emotional value? All of those can have different outcomes. Cost we’ve already talked about. If you’re feeling guilt, why? Because it was a gift maybe, but keeping something you don’t need or use in your household is only going to make you unhappy. The person that gifted you said item should understand that maybe, this one thing just wasn’t for you.

6: emotional value: this one I struggle with the most. I love everything people ever do for me. I do cling on to thought out Christmas and birthday cards. However, I now have a map where I keep them, all nice and tidy, all in one place. And we don’t cling on to every single card. If your grandma did knitting or anything like that, check first if you can’t incorporate it into anything, maybe just frame it, that’s already less clutter in closets and drawers. Lastly, if there’s no use for an item, hard as it can be, think about donating. Grandmas plates and cups are beautiful, but you don’t use them ever, because you have other ones, donate them and make another person happy.

Don’t get stuck. If you come across items where you cannot make a decision, put them into another separate pile or box and keep going. Your maybe box can be sorted through later. Lets say 2 weeks. Do you still know what’s in it? If not, toss. Have you figured out ways you can use it? Yes? Keep. No? Toss. Also, let’s say you find half of a pair of earrings, throw it in there. Find the second half? We have earrings! Still only one after 2 weeks? Time to toss.

Pay attention to why a space gets cluttered. Do you simply have too much stuff? Or do you not have efficient places to keep said stuff? Those are 2 very different problems. In my home, it’s board games, we do use all of them, but I didn’t have the space for them. That’s when you can invest in extra organisation storage. But always remember, declutterring first, tidying second.

Do a no buy week/month/year: your decluttering isnt going to get anywhere if you keep bringing stuff into your home. Calm down. Breathe. Get decluttering, and then you can fully see what you need to replace or buy new.

Don’t make it a one time thing, after your big declutter is done, go over stuff once a month. That drawer full of stuff that’s starting to get really full? Check it. Pile of paperwork on the kitchen table? Check, organise what’s needed, toss what’s not needed. When you keep on top of it, you never have to do a full house declutter again.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for potentially having been the reason why the relationship of two of my friends ended?

okay so i know this sounds bad, but i don’t think it’s my fault (at least not entirely).

so this happened 3 years ago almost. at the time, two of my best friends were dating each other. we were all part of a bigger friend group of like 6 people.

I’ll call those two friends who dated sam and jane. (fake names obviously)

The whole friend group was relatively new and only like half a year old when they started dating. i had only known sam for the time that friend group existed, so not very long by then. jane on the other hand, had been one of my best friends since we were both in kindergarten.

jane and i were around 16 then and sam was 15.

i had had a crush on jane for years at this point, but never told her because i always either thought she was straight (so she wouldn’t be into another girl aka she would never be into me) or because she was taken or because i just didn’t want to risk this long friendship ending.

but of info:

sam was (at the time) a cis guy. (sam is now questioning their gender but is leaning towards nonbinary transfem, but that was not yet the case during the time this story happened. so i will be using they/them pronouns for same obviously, but keep in mind that at the time, sam was a cis guy). before sam and jane got together, sam told me they had a crush on me but i rejected them.

jane (at the time) identified as bisexual.

the thing is, all of this happened during covid so sam and jane couldn’t see each other very often, but sometimes when the number of cases in our town went down, the restrictions were lifted. so one day, it was allowed to meet up in smaller groups again. so sam, jane, another friend and i spent the day together in town.

eventually that other friend had to leave because of something unrelated, so i was alone with the other two. sam and jane were in that stage of the relationship were they were very comfortable with each other and kinda already out of the “honeymoon” stage yk?

since i was very close to both of them separately, i didn’t feel like a third wheel there. it was a tiny bit awkward for me, because i did still have that crush on jane, but neither of them knew that.

we were all just kinda talking until the convo turned to like reminiscing about jane and my past since we’ve been friends very long and have been through a lot together. at some point, jane said that she has something to say that i might find weird.

obviously, this made me (and sam) very curious. jane laughed and then said that she used to have a huge crush on me, but was too shy to say that. i was admittedly not unhappy about that, so i told her that i too “used to” have a crush on her. (i lied a bit in the way that i said that was in the past when that crush very much was still there).

then i felt kinda bad, but before i could like backtrack (bc obviously i wasn’t trying to mess with their relationship), sam laughed and said that they wouldn’t mind if i joined their relationship. jane agreed and like kinda officially “invited me in.” (they were not in an open relationship, but apparently both their crushes on me were not so much in the past as i thought lol).

at first i thought that was a joke, but apparently they had kinda talked about that before and while it was spontaneous, it was definitely also a serious offer.

i was however still not into sam, and i didn’t think it was fair if i said yes without actually liking both of them back, so i rejected them awkwardly and went home not long after because i was totally not expecting that and just like totally startled me yk?

shortly after, like a few weeks, jane broke up with sam and said that she realized that she’s a lesbian because of “something that happened recently” and like. she never did say what it was, but one of our mutual friends who i had told about that situation from before, kept insinuating that i was involved in whatever situation jane meant. jane and sam themselves have never said anything like that to me and they are both still friends with each other (and with me, even if jane and i are more distant now).

so it’s very ambiguous if i really had anything to do with the end of their relationship, but that one mutual friend fully thinks that it was at least in part because of me. but like idk. so AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[jerzwriter]

High Seas (1 / 2)

I am so catching up on fic requests this week! lol This one is for my bestie, sister from another mister, and soon-to-be NYC jail cell partner (lol nah, we'll be good!) @icecoffee90 based on this ask. I decided to make it a 2-parter. I hope you're OK with that. I hope you enjoy this!

Book: Open Heart (Post Series)

Characters: Tobias Carrick x F!MC, Ethan Ramsey

Category: Fun Fluff?

Words: 1,200

Summary: Casey and Tobias have been looking forward to their vacation plans, a cruise on the high seas with some old Hopkin's friends as well. But when work gets in the way, Casey has a suggestion. Can she sell it?

A/N: Part two will be up tomorrow - This is just some light-hearted fun and I hope you enjoy it. Participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge - I could make it stargazing or sunglasses? It's definitely a summer vacation - does that work Dani? lol? Thank you!

Casey walked into Tobias’s office sheepishly, without saying a word. She turned around and leaned against the locked door. Knowing what that typically meant, he broke into a lascivious grin, but Casey’s scrunched-up face and worried demeanor left him perplexed.   

“Babe...” she grimaced.

“Yes....” he simpered with a raised brow.

“No,” she corrected with a nervous giggle. “It’s not that... not this time, at least. I’m afraid I have some... news.”

His shoulders dropped as his eyes widened. “Oh, shit... you’re not pregnant, are you?”

“What? No!” she shot back incredulously. “Tobias, that happened once, and now every time I have news, you assume that’s it? Besides, I thought you wanted ten kids or something.”

“More like five, but Sammy is barely six months old. Sweetheart,” he smiled as he rose to embrace her, his lips meeting hers in a tender, delightful kiss to seal his wordless apology. “For the record, I would be delighted... but we said we wanted to space the Carrick Pack out a little more, that’s all.”

“Well,” she attempted to worm out of his embrace with a bashful smile that was the very opposite of his devious grin. This man was entirely too proud of the effect he had on her. “Once you hear my news, you’ll probably wish it was Carrick Bambino 2.0.”

His face grew serious as he leaned against his desk, and his wife collapsed into his visitor’s chair.

“Case... you’re OK, right? You’re not sick or something?”

“No, no...” she assured. “Nothing like that. I didn’t mean to frighten you. But remember that proposal I submitted to the governor’s office?”

“The one about expanding free healthcare to children in the state’s poorest communities? Sure, how could I forget? You put your heart and soul into that project – pregnant and all.”

“Well, it paid off... I got a call from the Lieutenant Governor, and well... they loved the proposal and asked if Naveen and I could put a presentation together for them. They’d like to make it happen.”

“Hon! That’s incredible!” He gasped, face glowing with pride. “What are you doing, scaring me like that? This is wonderful news... the best! Why would I be unhappy?”

“It’s... the timing,” she sighed. “The Governor and her healthcare committee only had two days available to meet with us.... both during the week we were supposed to be on our cruise.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, baby. I know how much we’ve been looking forward to it... but this project is so important and,” she stopped when she saw his face fall. “... and I supposed I can bring someone else up to speed and let them take the meeting. It’s just...”

“Oh, No!” he interrupted, taking her hand. “Baby girl, you worked your ass off on that proposal, and I’m so proud of you! No way are you handing all your hard work over to someone else at this stage. Besides, no one believes in it as much as you – and it’s too important. You have to be there. We’ll go on a cruise another time.”

Casey glanced at him with a playful smirk. “Did you put cancellation insurance on the trip like I told you to?”

The mischievous gleam in his eyes answered her before he did. “Have I told you how proud I am of you? And how absolutely beautiful you look today?”

“So, that’s a no on the insurance,” Casey laughed.

“I don’t care. We’ll lose the money. Or I’ll see if we can transfer the trip to someone else.”

“But it’s with your old Hopkins friends! I don’t want you to miss out, so I have the perfect solution. Ethan only declined so we could go together. But, if I can’t go, I can hold down the Diagnostic Team with Harper and Baz, and Ethan can go with you.”

“Uhm, no.”

“Uhm, yes. I already called the cruise line. They said we could transfer the ticket to his name. Plus, it would be nice for you to see your old friends together without your old ball and chain there.”

His lips pursed and he gave her with a reprimanding stare. “When have I ever referred to you as my ball and chain!”

“I’m teasing,” she reassured. “But come on, tell me it wouldn’t be fun for you and Ethan to go on a trip with your old med school friends? As much as I’ll miss you, it’s not such a terrible outcome.”

“It’s not terrible,” he groaned. “But I wanted a little romantic getaway with my wife, too. Ethan is no use to me there.”

“True. But you can cancel the romantic suite with the jacuzzi and change to a standard room, but go! Sammy and I will be fine, you get some friend time and will be back before you know it. All we need to do is get Ethan to agree. What do you say?”

“One condition. I get to Zoom in for your presentation. No way I’m going to miss watching my wife kicking ass.”

“Oh, but Hon,” she grinned, slipping into his arms and playfully toying with the lapels on his lab coat. “But then you’ll be all turned on and so far away... is that a good idea?”

“Sure is. Imagine how worked up we’ll be for the reunion when I get back,” he winked.

“So, then it’s a deal?”

“As long as Ethan’s on board, it’s a deal.”

~~~~~

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Ethan scowled.

Tobias turned to Casey. “See, what did I tell you?”

“Ethan, you can stop pretending you don’t like Tobias. You were our best man. You’re Sammy’s godfather. You practically live at our house on your days off....”

“That’s just to see Samantha,” he interrupted.

“You’re so full of shit!” Casey joked. “I know being curmudgeonly is your brand, but shut up and go! Are you afraid I’ll destroy the DT while you’re gone?”

“No,” Ethan insisted. “It’s not like I’m leaving Carrick in charge, for God’s sake.”

“Well, technically, you are,” Tobias teased. “She is Casey Carrick now, remember?”

“Yeah, the poor thing,” Ethan scowled. “But you know what I meant!”

“Come on,” Tobias cajoled. “It’s been a long time since you and I spent with the old crew. As much as I’d rather be with Casey than you, and, frankly, as much as they’d rather be with Casey than you... it’ll still be fun.”

Ethan’s expression softened as he stared into the distance. “We did have some fun times together in the past.”

“Sure as hell did,” Tobias agreed.

“And you don’t mind?” Ethan asked Casey.

“It was my idea! I’d love to be there, but this presentation is too important to me. Vivian promised she’ll help me with Sammy, and I’d be happy to know you two clowns are off having fun.”

“Sounds like you have it all worked out,” Ethan replied.

Tobias reached over and poked his friend in the arm. “So, is that a yes?”

“I may live to regret this, but fine. I’ll go.”

“Yey!!!” Casey clapped.

“See that,” Ethan smirked. “She’s already happy to get rid of you.”

“Shit!” Tobias laughed, “I’m shocked it took this long for that to happen.”

“Oh, God,” Casey rolled her eyes. “Just promise me you won’t push each other overboard.”

“No promises, babe. If he’s gone, one of us is up for a promotion.”

“Now, that’s premeditated.”

Casey shook her head. “I have a feeling I may live to regret this.”

Part 2

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Other tags in Reblog

[stop-saying-tootsie]

anyways figured i should give a life update bc im not sure i ever explained why exactly im in ireland and im hoping to use this app slightly more so let’s get to it!!

when i first created this account, i was 18, had just started college, and was so deep in the closet that i wasn’t even out to myself. i don’t want to dwell too much on those times because i was so truly unhappy with myself it’s a miracle i stuck it out, but i am obviously very grateful that i did :)

- i’m now 21, have had my name legally changed, had top surgery almost a year ago, been on testosterone for over 2 years, and am currently working on getting my gender marker changed (expediting it for. no reason in particular)

- my family calls me by my name! mostly! something i wouldn’t have ever ever dreamed of, and still feels surreal every time

- i’m just over a month shy of graduating and being a certified teacher, which also feels very strange considering i am in fact 17 in my head

- i passed my certification exams first try and actually did very well (thank fuck because it was about $400 worth of tests)

- to finish my degree, i’m teaching in ireland!! i’ve been here for a month now, working at a local primary school and traveling during my free time, and it is GRAND (i do get very homesick so i’m not sure moving abroad for a prolonged period of time will ever be in the cards for me but again for. no reason in particular i am still considering). i work with 4th class and every single kid tries to give me a high five in the hall its a traffic nightmare and the teachers hate me for it

- i saw glass animals in dublin and got barricade??? so drew and i are basically married

- i met a long time internet friend (nearly 7 years) in manchester last week and it was truly marvelous. he, his girlfriend, and i have all transitioned during that time, so it felt very profound to sit on their carpet and carve fruit and drink wine and realize how much we’ve overcome and how truly happy we are despite everything

- my niece turned 1 today and has brought so much joy to everyone’s lives (gutted i’m not there but i had a donut in her honor)

- got the ghosts brought to life book wahoo

- once i’m back in the states ill be moving home and close to family for the foreseeable future, and will get to chill until i start teaching in july-ish!! i look forward to feeling like a normal human briefly

i think that’s all i can think up for now! of course i’m worried about the state of my country and my future but right now i feel loved and important to the people i care about and that’s enough

hopefully it’s not a year before i actually post again, love u lot

[lurkingshan]

Minato’s Laundromat… it feels like a fever dream… why did they decide on this plot point?? i was honestly so shocked bc it felt like a joke

I don’t know why they decided to do this but I gotta be honest, anon, I hate it. 😭

For real though, if I may be overly earnest for a moment. I’m unhappy about this turn in the story for a few reasons:

Minato’s Laundromat has always been firmly grounded in mundane reality. The sudden amnesia trope feels absurdly out of place here and immediately broke the rules of its storytelling universe as I have come to understand them across two seasons.

The reason I was excited about this season is because it is going beyond the season 1 question of whether they would get together, and instead interrogating how these two would stay together. We have spent nine weeks in this second season watching them slowly come to understand each other better and find a way to meet each other’s needs, resulting in Minato finally making the small but meaningful gestures Shin has been begging for. That this trope is being deployed as a device to immediately reset that hard earned relationship development we’ve spent weeks building to is especially grating.

Hand in hand with that, Minato has been on a long, frustrating, often hard to watch journey to overcome his internalized homophobia and become a decent partner for Shin who can communicate his emotions and reciprocate his affections. He was getting there, and in this episode he finally seems to have had some kind of breakthrough, and now it feels like the narrative is punishing him for that. It sends a very strange message, and even as I recognize they may use the amnesia to push him even further into confidently declaring his devotion to Shin, I don’t want an artificial drama event used as a cheap device to accelerate his growth. I want to finish the painstaking journey we’ve been on with him this entire time.

The decision to immediately undercut any catharsis or satisfaction the audience might have gotten from Minato finally expressing his feelings properly is just plain mean, both to the characters and the audience. As @bengiyo has said, this season has been all tension and no release, and the moment they finally gave us a small bit of release, they immediately yanked it back and ratcheted up the tension tenfold. It doesn’t feel fun or satisfying as a viewer.

So yeah, I did not like it! I will be tuning in next week to see where they take this twist in the story and whether it feels worthwhile in the end, but for now? I’m one unhappy blogger.

[wisteria-html]

Are fathers usually terrible? I don't have many other people around me to compare to, so I thought I might pose it to others.

🐦

Hm. Ok.

The question I’m pondering is how honest to be on here. I’m a part of a whole story now, I have more eyes on me than I have in a while. Yes I used to be big on TikTok, but that was a character. A persona. This is just me: my opinions, my beliefs, my thoughts, regardless of the situation. Even now that I’m in the croakerverse, I want to be clear that I am still myself. This post is all me too, all of this is true.

Don’t read if you’re sensitive to abuse, nothing is explicit and he wasn’t awful, but I do talk about some more serious stuff.

My dad wasn’t great. He was shitty to my mom, he hit my sister a couple times, and I was JUST LIKE HIM. Not in that I was abusive, I wasn’t, but he saw me as a mini him. We’re very alike. We look alike, have similar work ethics, and we’ve always had similar interests.

When I was a kid he would read me Stephen King. As early as four or five years old. Scaring me was one of his favorite things in the world, I never saw him laugh harder. It got to the point where my mom was scared to walk around corners for fear he would jump out. He never hurt her physically, but he did love to see her scared.

When I was eleven years old I told him I wanted to end my life. I begged him not to tell my mom… and he didn’t. My mom was the one taking care of us, she made all the doctor’s appointments, and he hid it from her. Years later I learned he had started being suicidal at eleven too. I get it from him.

When I was in middle school we started running together. It took me years to call it physical abuse. He never touched me, but he would withhold water for miles. If I couldn’t make the pace he wanted he would stop talking to me. Once I got heat exhaustion because he wouldn’t let me stop running before we hit our goal, and then he left me on the side of the road half unconscious while he got the car. Once I threw up and he congratulated me for pushing myself so hard. Once I had to stop and he left me in the middle of the National Mall because “He wasn’t gonna stop his workout just because I was too weak to finish.” I used to fantasize about letting a car run over my foot or breaking my own leg because I knew it would be the only way it would end. When I told him I was done he barely spoke to me for a week. I was twelve years old, thirteen at most.

When my mom learned how bad things were for my sister and I, she ended things. She had been unhappy for a while and stayed for our benefit. I’m not going to get into my sister’s story, it’s not mine to tell, but know that she’s been completely no contact for years. I don’t know if she’ll ever speak to him again.

After they split I tried to go to therapy with my dad. I told him everything he did to hurt me, how seeing scary movies with him was awful because he would make fun of me for days over me jumping at a trailer to cover up how afraid he was of the movie itself. How I hated it and it wasn’t worth it. A year later he asked to take me to see a horror movie, and when I asked if he remembered why the answer was no he said “Oh yeah, you don’t like me making fun of you for being scared.” He never cared or tried to change, not really.

During COVID, he couldn’t come over anymore. I was free. I had been so stuck fawning for him that I never stopped to consider not seeing him. The second I couldn’t see him? Things got so much better so quickly.

We didn’t talk for about two years. Last year he came over to get something and I saw him. I realized he didn’t scare me anymore. I loved him but I didn’t see him as a father. I didn’t care what he thought. We started seeing movies, then musicals. We see each other once a month at most. It’s fun but also exhausting. I don’t like telling him about my life.

When I get married someday, he will be invited but he will not walk me down the aisle. We will not dance. I love him but I also hate him, sometimes.

My relationship with my dad is complicated. The fact that he’s in the military doesn’t help. I’m happy he’s gone and part of me mourns the father child relationship I wish we could’ve had. Seeing him makes really sad sometimes. I think I keep talking to him because I feel like I should, not because it makes me happy. It doesn’t make me unhappy, I just… don’t care. And I shouldn’t not care about my own father.

I don’t know if this answers your question. Honestly I might delete it tomorrow, I’m pretty exhausted and there’s a fair chance I’ll regret posting this. I’ve never told anyone but close friends and my therapist. But I hope this did something for you.

[anarchist-musings]

I’m so sick of the corporate charade. It’s the most insidiously toxic work culture that we’ve been forced to accept as totally normal and okay because no other kinds of jobs pay us enough to survive in this capitalist hellscape.

I have like 5 managers and they’re all organized in a hierarchical structure. It’s the exec at the very top (who I never, ever interact with, let alone work with) that makes the final decision on whether I get a raise and how much it’ll be.

They organize it like this so if you’re unhappy with your salary, you have absolutely nobody to complain to. If you talk to your immediate manager, they’ll just run their mouth off about how they totally agree with you but it’s ultimately the top dog’s decision in the end.

This kind of structure also makes it impossible to organize because everyone and their dog is either a middle manager or trying to become one, so they have absolutely no stake in rocking the boat.

I just got especially insenced about it this week because one of my many managers is pregnant and one of my other managers sent out an email asking us to send a congrats message and a “contribution” that they’ll put together and send to her. I’m just like… how bout fucking no. She already gets paid way more than me. Why the fuck should I have to give her money ever, at all. But of course the pressure to contribute is huge because whether or not these people like you has a direct impact on your goddamn livelihood.

So sick of this bullshit economic system.

[bisluthq]

https://www.tumblr.com/bisluthq/769334767003074560/yes-i-know-taylors-main-issue-wasnt-that-joe?source=share

I actually agree with the anon that it is a symptom of a much larger issue. But the issue in question is not about their relationship. The issue is how society works nowadays and the importance given to social media. And the hunger to live through other people's lifes, because ours suck. People nowadays seem to forget that there is actually a thing called real life, where you interact with people. Let's be honest here: the reason we want famous people to shout out their significant other and post cute Instagram photos and love captions is for our sake. Because it's so cute 😍 and omg I ship them 😍 and i don't have a boyfriend so help me believe love exists 😍

In reality, the person that should hear those things is your partner. And maybe their friends and family if they really love the public compliments. Posting it on social media is more fanservice to give people what they want that anything. Not everyone needs to do that. If I want to write a really romantic poem to someone I can do it and give it to her. Posting it for the whole world to read is not necessary. But for today's standards, if you don't do that kind of stuff on social media that means you are the coldest rock who hates your partner.

Actually what I observe is the couples who actually post more together and do all the happy circus are the ones that aren't at all that happy behind the scenes. Then they breakup and people are like omg but like how, they were literally just posting i love you to each other last week

I hear you and while I don’t disagree entirely, I don’t think it’s as deep necessarily. I don’t think people follow celebs purely because our own lives suck and I don’t think it’s something people started being interested in recently. People have, since the 1700s at least in the west, across their colonies, the Russian Empire and the Ottoman Empire - I don’t know about other places because I’m not as familiar with those histories - been interested in celebrities. A lot of the time these were the royals, but also poets/writers and their wives and mistresses and very much actors and actresses too who often wound up involved with the royals to some degree and many of whom wrote. I think it’s escapism. People are interested in pretty people who seem to have interesting and glamorous lives, not because they’re unhappy but because it’s interesting. With social media though, a lot MORE people have become famous. Now we’re interested in like influencers and shit too and I think it largely comes from the same sort of interested place.

I don’t think couples who post a lot are necessarily unhappy, I do think they like external validation for stuff though (which is okay) and I think it’s unrelated to whether or not they’re happy. It’s just a whole separate issue. Some people like having that out there, some people don’t. Whether or not they’re a good partner is another story though.

and like I say, in a weird way the internet made all of us capable of being little celebs in a manner that historically wasn’t possible lol. So we’re now interested in not only celebs (which as a society we’ve been interested in for a very long time), but in our friends and casual friends to a greater degree and to influencers who are more or less regular people but who share their lives with us.

some people like sharing a lot of content. Some people don’t. I’ve got like Instagram friends - obviously not close friends but I’m getting to why - who stun me when they suddenly post their wedding because I’ve not seen them share a partner before. I’ve got other Instagram friends who share so much about their lives that I feel like we ARE close friends even though I’ve like not hung out with them in years or in some cases only ever met them a few times. People curate their social media in accordance with what makes THEM happy and it’s not usually that deep. For celebs it’s a bit deeper because they talk to publicists about strategy and such but most people want it to reflect what they want to do and unless they have a really shitty team who bullies them then like they’ll help the person be authentic to who they are (posting a lot or a little as a result). Idk man. I just don’t think it’s got anything to do with anything.

In the Joe and Taylor example, had he been posting regularly I still wouldn’t have been shocked if she’d said she felt unloved. She talked about how he can be withdrawn and distant from Rep onwards. That’s who he is. He could’ve been that, and liked making social media content, and still been withdrawn and difficult to live with when the rose colored glasses had faded.

also Travis hasn’t yet posted Taylor. He doesn’t even follow her. He talks about her in his podcast, which is a thing he makes and enjoys making, and presumably she listens to all of it to be supportive and because he loves making his thing, but yeah. I don’t think she feels more loved because he makes a podcast. I think she feels more loved rn because he makes her feel like a priority.

also I will say not feeling like a priority is a common problem in longterm relationships. It takes work to make sure you don’t make the other person feel unimportant to you and sometimes idk maybe that person *has* become unimportant to you lol.

[deanstudies101]

4x17, It's a Terrible Life

Critical theory: Fate, destiny, and (de)constructed masculinities. Sexuality. Little outfits.

Discussion point/question(s): What do we think of this examination of their perspectives on their real lives / job satisfaction? [I didn’t even have to ask this one, we just discussed it.] 

Discussion: 

Obsessed with this. 

We had a discussion about the fact that the two named victims were Ian and Paul and whether that was a Vampire Diaries reference. We decided the timings do kinda line up and it is possible, but I guess we’ll never know. 

Kai doesn’t think Dean likes hunting. He likes saving people, because that’s how he thinks his life has worth… but is that the same as hunting? Iga disagrees. Here we see him liberated from shitty things like a crappy father and his upbringing, and he still found hunting, and he liked it. However, he was still hesitant to leave that life, much more so than Sam… or was he covering up his feelings until he had time to process them? He wanted to process it alone. [I would say Sam is generally more impulsive than Dean. And that was quite impulsive.] Sam kind of had an advantage here, though. He was still having the dreams, he literally has a physical connection via the demon blood, whereas Dean doesn’t have psychic powers, any physical connection, it’s just in his soul. It’s what he’s drawn to, what he’s destined to do. [How are we feeling about the concept of destiny, and the fact that this episode confirms it somewhat?] Dean had a happy life here, he was successful, he was vibing, doing his little juice cleanse. He was surface happy at least. He wasn’t depressed, but he wasn’t fulfilled. As soon as he finds hunting he quits his job the same day. Kai, also he likes project runway. [But we’ve just been told—so far it’s always been “they’re hunters because they were raised that way”, and now it’s “they’re hunters because they’re destined to be, there is something inherent about them that makes them hunters."] 

Could be argued that it’s reflex, it’s muscle memory. They must have had some deep memories. It’s not necessarily destiny, just his soul wants to be a hunter, that’s what he’s destined to do, that’s what deep down he wants. Kai thinks it’s almost the reverse. Whatever being put destiny in place made it so that Dean becomes a hunter, but his own free will doesn’t come into that—he’s been put on this path, and he resented it, but now he’s choosing it. Iga, this is just showing him that this is what he would chose if he had the option. Kai thinks he’s still doing it because he has to, not because he wants to, he’s drawn to it. Iga, “so you think Dean has no free will?” Kai, “Yeah.” Iga, “Damn.” Kai, “He’s trapped in the narrative.” 

Iga thinks Sam is trapped in the narrative/has no free will—he was very quick to come back to hunting—whereas Dean considers it, he takes some time to think about it. Sam doesn’t think as much about it.

Kai thinks neither of them have free will, it’s just Sam doesn’t have as much of a problem with the path he’s on. Dean is burnt out. 

This was a very smart move by the angels. They thought it was demons, tricksters. But it’s just the angels trying to prove to Dean it’s what he wants. [They want Dean back on task. And they did a damn good job.] The issue isn’t Dean’s destiny, Dean being a hunter, he just needs a holiday every now and then. And that’s from his upbringing, his trauma, his father, Sam pushing him into jobs. Iga, “Dean needs a restructuring. He doesn’t need to quit his job. Maybe a four day work week.” [That feels a little pointed :( ] [But it’s true. He does need a holiday. He deserves a holiday.] What mattered to him, what gave him pause, was the details. They money, the motels, the food. That’s what’s making him unhappy. He needs a home to come back to, a family, connections, comfort. He wants to feel safe enough to go on a juice cleanse. But he can’t go on a juice cleanse, because he doesn’t know when his next meal is gonna be. That’s how he doesn’t want to live. Iga’s hot take: it’s not the job, it’s the rest of it. The lack of stability. [We’ve talked before about how the other hunters live compared to how Dean and Sam live.] They have houses. They have somewhere to go back to and decompress. Society if they had a house. Dean’s burnout isn't to do with being a hunter, it’s to do with his life. The job would still be difficult, but it would help. He would feel selfish for taking the time out, but he needs it. He would feel better, but he can’t. He’s not a person, he’s an instrument. Instruments can’t get tired. [The dehumanisation is insane. And I hate to say it, it doesn’t get better. Or, not for a long time, and it’s up and down.] 

Sam didn’t have to break the phone, he could’ve just quit. [Displacement.] Interesting that Dean is the aggressive asshole. He just handed in his notice. [Sam went postal on a phone.] 

[What I would like to discuss is the fact that Dean’s gay. Queer. Like. Dean is bi in my heart we all know this. But that was a homosexual.] The bag. It’s not giving business man. It’s giving… [The outfits. THe hair.] The stripy shirt. The juice cleanse. [The car.] The rice milk. [The bitchy lil facial expressions.] 

The filter was interesting. Obsessed. The moment it lifts is hilarious. 

The workplace feels horrible, torturous and it’s… just a real workplace. 

The Ghostfacers have actual skills now, they do actual ghost hunting now. The Winchesters taught them stuff. 

[Their surnames in this—Smith and Wesson—are a reference to another gun manufacturer.] Huh. Fun. 

[kuekyuuq]

One of the things that bug me about how CWSG ended...

And no, it's not (just) a certain lacking endgame XD

We've got a serialized show about Supergirl, Kara Zor-El, Kara Danvers. And yet the show spent overall so little time on her.

She got traumatized several times over, it got implied that she suffers from claustrophobia and PTSD. Yet it was never fully addressed, the next episode Kara just moved on, carried about - as if this was an episodic show. Which, yes, with the freak-of-the-week nature it was at certain points, but it also did in many others aim to have connected and continuous plots, story and character developments...

Now, what is it that bugs me in this installment?

Kara coming out to the world as Supergirl. Aaaand cut. Show over.

Is this a continuation or inevitable destination of Kara's struggles? Well, I argue, no.

What we did have was Kara struggling to find her place in the world. Kara is many things. She's a (no longer) orphan. She's (no longer) the last daughter of Krypton. Kara(thought she was but really is no more) the last Kryptonian to carry Krypton’s legacy, history, culture, education.. everything.

... Kara is Kryptonian. Was raised as one until she was 13, throughout the majority of her informative years. Kara Zor-El. Kara has incredible powers, which her very nature dictates she uses for good, become a hero. Supergirl. Kara is.. a refugee, adopted and in some ways till the end of the show at times struggling to fully integrate herself as: Kara Danvers. Kara's nature, without her powers also have her to strive to help others, uncover and fight bad things. A reporter. Kara's also just the girl who loves musicals, Big Belly Burger, Karaoke, hates greens, wants a perfect partner at Game Night... Just Kara. Kara is a sister. Kara is a daughter. Kara is a loyal friend...

Several times in the show, whenever Kara was struggling, Kara thought she had to chose between Supergirl or Kara Danvers.

The Black Mercy clearly showed Kara’s longing to be Kara Zor-El, missing the what-if.

During her redK incident some more seeds of that were sown, her red-veined self mildly risking her identity - but mostly showing that Kara was unhappy playing herself down (e.g. as Kara Danvers at work).

The downside of revealing herself was depicted in the 100th episode.

There were more instances whenever Kara became overwhelmed, that she wondered if her duality (person vs. persona) was the cause of her problems. 

But the solution was NEVER to go full Supergirl! 

It was always something else. ALWAYS, the show, told us, showed us, Kara was ultimately happier being bouncy Kara Danvers at the office and the proud hero on the streets.  That despite her pain and whichever most recent trauma, neither her cape nor the glasses were the problem. Nor was the double-act. [...except when it came to Lena]

Kara considered going full-time Supergirl in season 6 (episode 16), too. Alex and William (quoting Kara who quoted Cat) talked her out of it by letting her know, she can have it all, taking one step at a time, and maybe not all at once - because she's got a team, a family! 

And then she does it anyway.

She also becomes editor-in-chief at CatCo (which likely cuts down her investigative reporting time by a great chunk... You know, the very thing she loved about the job, loved so much it even - temporarily - did cost her that very job).

Oh, and there was also this:

The argument was made, that the whole double-life spiel had long since lead to Kara no longer knowing who she really was.

But did it?

I mean... yeah, it sure can be stressful at times, but... right, speaking of stress. Kara made that decision after

being part of reshaping the universe (and having witnessed the death of all of them beforehand!)

which reshaped Kara's history she now has no knowledge of (due to being a Paragon) or, if J'onn or her stay in the fractured PZ somehow bestowed her with her Prime-Earth memories, she now has two sets of memories...

she had been cast into the Phantom Zone again, where she had to suffer at the hands... claws... of the Phantoms and their nightmare inducing powers which are known to drive people insane for them eventually no longer being able to tell reality and the nightmare apart.

she found out her father was still alive and she sent him off to Argo / her mother - her family now well, whole and alive somewhere out in the universe

loosing yet another friend (William)

...

So, she tells the world she's Supergirl,

which will not erase the in episode 100 mentioned threats to her fam's lives

while the Children Of Liberty had been beheaded, the mistrust in people is still around

two years prior, during the Red Daughter incident, she had been declared public enemy number one

her sister's got a kid

ALL her prior reasons not to do so, have not magically evaporated!

I know, she's the Paragon of Hope, but...

People know Supergirl. Only very few know Kara Danvers. Hardly anyone on Earth ever knew about Kara Zor-El.

So, ask yourself, after revealing herself to the world, how would/will people perceive her now?

I think it's very naive to think, that Kara can be "herself" when people (at Al's bar, Noonans, work, performing the rare interview she manages to squeeze in between supering and her new, demanding job at CatCo) now either get star-struck or nervous at "meeting Supergirl", or at worst can't think past her being an (over-powered) alien. Supergirl is (in)FAMOUS! There is only Supergirl now, in the eye of the public, to anyone she meets. ...how could that possibly help her be more “herself”? The only people who she can be herself are the ones she could all along - her friends and family.  If anything it made going for a walk much more stressful, whereas Kara Danvers could eat ice cream without judging her for the messy way she may go about it in her eagerness... 

Is she being more honest?

Yes. There’s no more need to “fly on the bus”, am I rite? No more lies. 

Does this lead to her being more true to herself?

...on the surface at least, yes.

Does this lead to her being able to live as herself, her true and authentic self?

No, and not for some decades either (eventually, far away in the future, her having taken that step, and others following her example, this may very well lead to people not making distinctions anymore, being a Hero possibly just becoming considered yet another job, like a fireman/-woman or police officer).

Just a few years ago they've built the woman a friggin statue!

So, no. I do not think - and the show has not given me anything to believe otherwise, rather kept affirming my conclusion - that Kara would indeed be able to live as "herself" after the finale episode and her public "coming out".

I think the writers or whoever was in charge of that decision only saw the superficial symbolism (and a woke pro-LGTBQ+ implication). But they've entirely ignored Kara's path, her evolution and her experiences.

Truth be told, if there had been a seventh season after this cliffhanger (which it essentially was, as it raised more questions than it provided answers and/or closure), it would have had to have featured Kara facing the plenty-fold backlash of that decision. But making the show about Kara - the character - may have been a bit too much to ask for anyway... Maybe even culminating in her needing to call back Mxy to cash in her do-over raincheck.

So, no.

I see what the show was trying to say.

"Be yourself, don't hide, be proud." And that IS a good message.

But within the context of the show? Oh, boi, this one failed hard IMO.

My advice for Kara Danvers? 

TAKE A VACATION! Really, just be "Kara" for a while. No Super, no Danvers, no Zor-El. Just kick up your legs, DEAL with your trauma (talk to Kelly!), clean up shop, find your center, focus on your needs for a while.

Go sing Karaoke with your extended found family. Eat buckets of ice cream. Watch every musical in existence. Maybe even go and visit your re-united parents! Go on a road-trip with your bestie. 🥷 Finally take some time off to mourn: Red Daughter, William, Jeremiah (for good), Oliver... Go meet your nephews! There's two of them now, and they are teens already!

Trust your friends, trust in them having your back, that the world won't get destroyed (again) just because you take a few months of a sabbatical or to just limit yourself to rescuing kittens and helping grandmas cross the streets for a while. Maybe you'll even find a hook for a story to snag yourself another Pulitzer while you're just out there enjoying the world.

And yes, just ENJOY the world you've saved (over and over and over and...) for once! There's so much beauty in it. Prove to yourself why it is all worth it!

Because, Kara is NOT just Supergirl OR Kara Danvers OR just Kara...

She's all of the above and so much more.

Revealing herself to the world is not changing that it isn’t an instant solution to Kara's multitude of problems, her traumas, her inner(!) duality (tripality? quadrality?...).

The seasons have put her through the ringer several times over without giving her a chance to breathe, have thrown trauma, drama, loss, grief, shock and terror at her over and over and over again. She's a former last Kryptonian orphan refugee adopted by humans who has her parents back but estranged by time and space, facing xenophobia, racism, sexism (lots of 'isms...) left and right, had to face, fight and lose her own "evil" twin, possibly contradicting memories of her teenage years up to Crisis, keeps losing even when she's winning, spreads herself way too thin because of Big Bads constantly showing up....

For Rao's sake! The girl really doesn't know who she is anymore!

And it only on the surface leads back to her being a reporter and a Super both day and night.

There is a reason the comic book arc of Superman revealing himself got retconned / axed. ...after all, if I grasped that correctly, it was Lex' great idea for Sups to reveal himself to the world...

And no. I don't think either Cat nor Lena meant for Kara to come out like that. They were being supportive. Cat in her "you need to figure out what you want, so just dive, Kara!" way and Lena in the more gentle "whatever you feel is right to you, my one true love best friend" approach. Cat was trying to push Kara (meant well, but IMO after the previous events just wrapped up, a bit of a bad timing). And Lena was ...kinda enabling, having just come on the other end of her own life-long trauma spiel and possibly being over-supportive after the year of hell...

So yeah, I've got issues with the last few minutes of the finale. In my head-canon it was Kara's fever dream after she finally had a full night's sleep after the final show-down.

Feel free to disagree!

TL;DR:

“I was missing the point. It is not about what you do. It is about who you love.” 

- Cat Grant [2x21]

#Kue out.

[thecreaturecalledriza]

Eat, Drink, and be Married

Crick accidentally gets himself engaged to Temenos.

a.k.a. Temenos is feral and cannot be stopped

also posted to AO3 under AnkalagonDrakka

Three days after the pontiff was laid to rest, Crick and Temenos were finally given leave to return to Flamechurch. It seemed like an eternity ago that Crick had first escorted Temenos along the path to the cathedral, and now here he was, walking with the Inquisitor back to the town and it’s small parish. The mood was certainly heavier this time, and Temenos’ face was set in stoic apathy. Crick found that he couldn’t ignore how unhappy Temenos was. And it was perfectly justified, given the man had just lost a beloved mentor, and yet… He wanted to do something, say something, to draw that spark back into the cleric’s eyes. But what…?

Crick wracked his brain for a moment before he finally settled on what he thought was a safe topic. More fool him for thinking so. “Say, Temenos, I noticed some of the clergy back in Flamechurch had rings on their marriage finger.” Temenos glanced over at him from the corner of his eye and raised a brow, silently urging him to elaborate. “It’s just, I didn’t know clerics married.” Crick cringed mentally and berated himself. Why wouldn’t clerics marry? They were people just like anyone else, and it wasn’t as if the church forbade it. Stupid, Crick! Stupid!

Temenos was quiet so long that Crick thought he wasn’t going to answer. He jumped a bit when Temenos finally responded, “Mm, it’s not common, per se, but some do; for instance, if they feel a particular calling to someone. Most often, clerics and Sanctum Knights will marry each other given how much potential overlap there can be in assignments.” The Inquisitor shrugged and then cut a meaningful look at Crick that the knight, for the life of him, couldn’t decipher. “But for many, the position of a clergyman is simply too much work to try to balance with a spouse or a family, so many choose to dedicate themselves fully to the church rather than a partner.”

“Oh, I see. Then, are you not married, Temenos?” Crick assumed the work of an inquisitor must be more demanding than many of the other jobs within the church, but that didn’t mean Temenos was unattached. “I am not,” Temenos said, lifting his left hand from beneath his cape to show off his unadorned fingers. “But why the interest, Crick?”

Crick blinked and squeezed the pommel of his sword where his hand had just been resting loosely atop it, until his leather glove creaked in protest. That felt like a rather leading question, even if Temenos kept his tone light. “Oh, um, I was just curious, is all. I knew some of my superiors were married, but I didn’t know their spouses were likely clerics.” He couldn’t just say he was trying to distract Temenos, right? And he had given a plausible enough answer, he hoped that the Inquisitor wouldn’t think him strange, or worse; simple.

“Curious, you say?” It was just a small thing, the way Temenos’ eyes narrowed and his mouth quirked up, but he suddenly looked unsettlingly devious and sly, like a fox in the hencoop. It immediately put Crick on edge. This was exactly what Crick wanted, to see some spirit return to the Inquisitor, but did he have to look so… ominous? “Could it be you wished to know so that you might initiate a proposal of your own?”

Crick choked and nearly tripped over his own feet. “W-what!?”

“My, my, how forward of you, my little lamb; how bold!” Temenos cried, pressing a hand against his chest and leaning against Crick in a mock swoon. “And we’ve only just met!” Oh, Gods help him, what had he done!? He had no clue if Temenos was serious or just having him on, but he had to put a stop to this right away. “No! That’s not what I—”

“Very well, I accept,” Temenos chirped, looking as cheery as he had the day Crick met him not even a week ago. “How could I refuse such an offer from a strong, handsome knight like yourself?” Temenos reached out to pat Crick’s cheek with a soft hand before he spun around and skipped down the path. The man was honest to Aelfric skipping now, laughing merrily as he pulled ahead of Crick, the head of his staff gleaming in the dappled light as he went.

Crick tripped after him, pale and flushed and sweating all at once. “Temenos, wait!”

Temenos kept talking as if he hadn’t heard Crick at all, already laying out plans for a marriage Crick had never actually meant to propose. “Now, I would prefer a winter wedding, myself, but I am certainly open to suggestions.” He tossed a look over his shoulder back at Crick and, sounding both condescending and overjoyed, said, “And don’t you worry, little lamb, we can stop at the jewelers as soon as we get back to town so you can make a proper proposal.”

Crick gaped, absolutely gobsmacked. He was pretty sure Temenos wasn’t joking now. He wasn’t even trying to keep up with Temenos anymore, and eventually came to a complete stop in the middle of the path as Temenos’ laughter and skipping footsteps faded before him. It was official. The Inquisitor was actually insane. And apparently Crick was engaged to marry him now. By all the Gods, what had he just gotten himself into? He had just wanted to lift Temenos’ spirit a bit.

Well, he’d lifted his spirit alright. Maybe a little too well.

This had to be a conflict of interest, he was sure of it, especially with an investigation going on. But apparently that meant nothing to Temenos, who had already proven to be morally questionable at best. But there were worse people to get accidentally engaged to, right? Right? Crick shook his head and began walking again, dazed. He was pretty sure that man was going to give him an ulcer. Or a heart attack.

Gods, he was so screwed, wasn’t he?

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for asking my friend to hold my hand?

So, long story short, I (??M) and my best friend (18F) have been travelling together for a while. Things got a little out of hand a while ago, and I had to leave the universe to keep everyone safe, and that was fine! I wanted to go, as long as my friend was safe at home where she belonged.

But she insisted on coming along, into this weird other place, and I didn’t realize until it was too late and we were already there. That’s when my spaceship dissolved, and we were left in this blinding white void. I told her to hold my hand, because we couldn’t see anything and I didn’t want her to wander off. We couldn’t trust anything else—I was all she had.

Anyway, I think I might have given her the wrong impression. She told me she loved me. I didn’t want her to love me, so I told her that she was more like a fashion accessory to me, which is true. This made her upset—she’s very emotional sometimes—and she wanted to run off, but I kept holding her hand, because, again, we were in a sensory deprivation void and if we let go then we would never see each other again! She’s obviously unhappy, and we’ve been walking in silence for weeks. Not that I mind the silence, but normally she tries to break it up every once in a while and it's concerning that she hasn't. AITA?