#'you deserve it because you live in the south' nobody deserves to be treated as less than just bc of their location

[queerdiazs]

everyday i think of the way the american south is treated and everyday i get more fuckin mad about it

my way of life has been romanticized and watered down into an aesthetic for the internet yet if a majority of you were to ever meet me or somebody like me in real life you'd hate us because we don't fit into that cute little cubby you've made for us. it makes me laugh thinking about the way most of you would react if you ever saw a coal miner fresh off work and on their way home.

and it's not a big deal really but it's a big deal to me because a lot of you call yourselves progressives but you're actually everything you accuse people from the south of being :)

[blackpilljesus]

I find community discourse incredibly annoying. People are often like "Wheres's the community? We need community! People are so individualistic these days". Individualism gets a lot of criticism but nobody ever questions why this happens. While there are some merits to communities, historically communities have mainly benefitted the priviledged. Most communities evolve into divide-and-rule politics where some are seen as more deserving than others (based on things that cannot be controlled). If you're a marginalised person, more often than not you get bs from communities, not love and protection as advertised.

When you're on the short stick side of the divide-and-rule politics in communities, communities are dangerous for you. It will be seen as acceptable to abuse & put you in horrible conditions simply bc of what you are. Those who abuse tend to be in higher positions in communities so when you call them out people wouldn't care or believe you. You'll be punished when you fight back however. When you're marginalised in a community you receive the worst brunts from people and it's seen as okay to be less deserving of support. You wont be supported in community.

People talk about "safety in numbers" but when the community faces trouble, they will have no problem abandoning or sacrificing the marginalised to save themselves at large. Communities have no problem throwing others away or isolating them once it benefits them. Alot of the time people are used & abused in communities so they're fed up with that, fed up of being treated like second class citizens in communities.

Look at the way communties people reminisce about & yearn for actually turned out. "We had community back in the day" yeah the same ones full of predatory uncles that would abuse women & children and get defended, the same communities full of victim blaming & shaming women + girls for being abused, the same communities where some were implicitly told they were more inferior but if they obeyed those higher up in power they can be forgiven. People talk about a lack of a "third place" bc of the rise of secularism so less are going to places of worship but many people leave those communities (even if their faith is still intact) because of corruption & abuse. The judgements & hypocrisy in these places is a lot (one of the reasons I personally left religion & the community too).

Best believe if you can hold your own down, being in a community is more dangerous than being alone bc like i said when things go south your ass will be on the chopping block first. Hell if people just want to abuse, they'll go for the marginalised first & so much abuse is enabled in communities. They'll ostracise & shun you and the threat of that alone keeps many in line to uphold abusive structures in place in communities.

"But humans are natural social creatures that want to be in groups" is something I hear often & that should make you stop and think of how so many people going against this instinct to survive says a lot about how dangerous alot of communities are. It's our nature to socialise, be in groups yet it's chosen to be independent because of the danger groups actually present when you're not seen as a valued member of them.

At this point people would either say "look inwards" or "find better communities out there" but the problem is that status in communities isnt entirely based on the merit of the way you behave. Finding communities where you're accepted & valued IRL tends to be based on things you cant control. It's not like the internet where you put yourself out there & eventually find your community even if they live all over the world. In reality it's another ballgame, people are more closed off & judgemental if you dont fit certain standards so it's more difficult to find places where you'll fit in. Also, as mentioned the determining factors of the way you'll be treated in communities are based on things you cant control, your characteristics will do more speaking and determination for you. So it's not as easy as just "find a better community". Given the way activism is on the internet, many people forget how conservative & hostile the real world actually is. Things like sexism, colorism, racism, ableism, homophobia, lookism etc; play a big role in most communities irl which is why many people seek alt communities online even though those come with issues of their own but to not stray away from the point this is why many people arent fucking with -irl- community shit anymore.

This discource pisses me off because when you constantly receive crap from communities people blame you for it but when you leave you get badgered for not having or being part of community. Communities benefit the priviledged as they uplift those on top, they get to take more from communities & enrich themselves while those at the bottom get fucked over and it's no wonder so many people get fed up and decide to put things into their own hands than risk being in/trusting communities that wont hesitate to risk or end your life over bs. I know that not all communities out there will be horrible but as mentioned finding communities IRL where you'll be accepted as a marginalised person is difficult. Finding equitable communities where everyone is held accountable for their actions, where people genuienly help each other to get by & survive over divide-and-rule politics is difficult.

People complaining about lack of community but wont address the rampant abuse that happens in them tells me they dont care about community spirit as they claim they just want pools of people to exploit and are disguising it under communal spirit & protection. I dont fw communities & sometimes people will tell me i cant do everything alone, no man is an island -good thing i'm a woman then lol- but fr the people this crap comes from are the type of people that make communities suck & i wouldn't want to be in a community with them anyways bc they're horrible & would just exploit. Individualism is on the rise because so many of us marginalised people who grew up in communities realise we're better off alone & idc what anyone says if they feel they're better off within communitities then bet but a lot of the time others are better off alone. And icl one positive of capitalism is that it gives you a chance to rely on communities less & have a more independent lifestyle. Yes there's still a level of people/community engagement but we're not as tightly bound to a community like a small tribe in a village bc tbh i'd probably be dead by now if i had to live & rely on others that way.

Instead of just criticising individualism & guilt tripping people to join communities, if people actually care do inflection about your "communities". Except this wont happen bc this isnt about community spirit but looking for others to exploit which is why it's being aggresively pushed.

[tedwardremus]

nonsense questions:

well it's more of a burning question I've been thinking of for a long time (yes, it inspired a small fic for Jily week)

What are your thoughts on Petunia/Vernon's relationship?

Do you think they are actually in love or do you think that Petunia was in love during their early part of their relationship. But something happened later on that made her view her relationship as if it was just a marriage of convenience ( it took me 5 tries to get that word correct and I'm still looking at it funny)

Let me explain: Vernon knows that his sister-in-law was a witch and that his nephew has magical powers. That being said, if his and Petunia's marriage were to end, for any reason...do you think he would hold the knowledge he knows against Petunia? Since Muggles are unaware of magic (some not all of them). Not only that but they are literally abusing/neglecting their nephew Harry, by having him live in a cupboard under the stairs, and not give him the love and care that every child deserves.

I think that Petunia knows that if things were to go south, it would be really hard to get herself out of the predicament, same goes for Vernon. I don't believe that anyone else would go along with the abuse they've been giving Harry. Also, it's convenient for them that nobody finds out that they have been treating their nephew in such bad conditions.

I hope I'm not confusing you with this... like, I know many couples who are together out of convenience and who are abusive to their children and I always think....if they break up (which I wish they did along with getting therapy ) I don't believe someone else would stay with them.

sorry that this is longer than what it should've been, but I'm curious to know what you think about this

You may have asked a nonsense question, but I gave you a serious(ly long) answer.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley’s relationship is often overshadowed by their negative traits, but their bond is rooted in a genuine love that reflects their shared values and fears. While they may not be admirable characters, I believe strongly that they did, in fact, love each other.

Vernon and Petunia both yearn for the ideal suburban middle-class lifestyle, one that is ordinary, predictable, and free from potential ridicule from others. This desire for normalcy is central to their relationship, providing a common goal that binds them together. They are not interested in the extraordinary or the extravagant; instead, they take comfort in the familiar and the mundane. Vernon wants a good car and a good suburban house and a corner office job and to play golf because that is what a good, proper English man is supposed to want.

They want to protect their way of life, keeping their world insulated from what they perceive as disruptive forces. (They are obviously Brexit voters).

Their commitment, especially Vernon's commitment to Petunia, is evident in the way they raise Harry. Despite the many challenges Harry’s presence brings, Vernon and Petunia never appear to argue about how to treat him. They agree on their methods, which, while harsh, are consistent and reflect their desire to suppress anything that threatens their version of normalcy.

Petunia’s resentment toward Harry is deeply personal, tied to her complex feelings about her sister and the magical world that took Lily away. Harry, with his resemblance to James and his inherited magical abilities, is a constant reminder of the life Petunia lost—first when Lily went to Hogwarts without her, and again when Lily was murdered.

Vernon, on the other hand, is terrified of magic and sees it as a threat to the safe, predictable life he and Petunia have built. Yet, despite his fear, he stays with Petunia and supports her, even after learning about her sister’s magical abilities. Vernon’s decision to stay in a house where magic is present, even though he clearly is terrified of magic, indicates his deep love for his wife, especially after he realizes he can't just simply beat the magic out of Harry. He endures his fears because his love for Petunia outweighs them.

Vernon and Petunia are not good people. They are shallow, materialistic people who are obssesed with what others think of them. They share a vision of life that is deeply aligned, from their political views to their desire for a traditional, middle-class lifestyle. This shared vision is the foundation of their relationship, allowing them to present a united front in all aspects of their lives, including their approach to parenting. They made choices together about how to raise their family, which includes raising Dudley to be a toxic bully and to abuse Harry. They care more about what their neighbors think of their family’s status than a child's well-being in their care.

The love between Vernon and Petunia is not a passionate or romantic love but rather a practical, partnership-based love that revolves around maintaining the life they have built together.

If they were to break up, the aftermath would reflect their individual characters. Vernon, with his respectable job and suburban values, would likely remarry. He would be bitter about the divorce, blaming Harry and external factors rather than reflecting on his own role in the relationship's failure. Given his social status, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find a second wife who fits neatly into the life he’s already constructed—a conservative, suburban woman who shares his values and outlook. Vernon’s ability to move on would be fueled by his desire to maintain the life he’s accustomed to, even if it means replacing Petunia with someone else who can fulfill the role of a respectable wife.

Petunia, on the other hand, would struggle deeply with the breakup. Her marriage to Vernon is more than just a partnership; it represents her escape from the world that made her feel inferior and abandoned. Confiding her secret about Lily and the magical world was a significant act of trust for Petunia, one that she would be hesitant to repeat with another person. The breakup would likely feel like another abandonment, similar to the way she felt when Lily went to Hogwarts or when her parents, in her opinion, seemed to favor Lily. The emotional toll of losing Vernon, who provided her with a sense of normalcy and security, would be devastating for Petunia, and it’s unlikely she would ever fully recover from it.

However, it’s hard to imagine the Dursleys ever breaking up. They may not be good people, but they are good for each other. The Dursleys are a strong, united family, and despite their many flaws, they love each other deeply.

[inf1nyxw0rlds]

ouuugh thinking about runaways au again... maybe i will tell the rest of you about runaways.

in regards to prev rb, i have a hc that shadow has multiple safehouses in various secluded locations that nobody knows about except for him – rouge and omega included. his experiences with GUN never left him; they killed maria, and when he emerged from stasis in a foreign world they hunted him. he's stuck under their thumb (or, so he thinks. more on that later) as they want to keep him under control, but while they aren't trying to lock him up or experiment on him right now, he can never rule out the possibility and they still treat him as a lesser being while simultaneously praising his ultimate status. he doesn't trust them, and his justified concerns that things could go south anytime are what prompt him to discreetly make sure he has somewhere to escape to should the situation call for it.

he's scared. he feels trapped. he will not say either of these things. shadow will tell you, and at times, yeah, he'll show you that he does what he wants, but the trauma and inherent, programmed "do as you're told" instinct remains, too. why doesn't he leave, if he's the ultimate lifeform?

he's keeping an eye on them, he would say, and it isn't entirely a lie, just not the full truth either. he also has just... resigned himself, almost. he wants out, but out would mean being hunted again, out would make him vulnerable, out is... frightening. because, sure, death to all who oppose me sounds cool on paper – but he doesn't want to go through that again. why make his life harder? he pushes back where he can, shadow doesn't take shit, but he's also stuck in a big power play situation where unfortunately full "freedom" would actually be more limiting.

so. then we get infinite. war criminal, tyrant, world's most hated. secured by GUN and sentenced to imprisonment for his crimes. but it doesn't stop there, of course. it reeks bad news from the moment he's captured. it's about justice, sure, shadow thinks. totally just justice, and not the all powerful rock in his chest. naturally, they don't just want to subdue infinite, they want to run experiments, and take the ruby for themselves.

unfortunately for them, they can't get it out; it's fused to him with an unbreakable force, and they're left with several options... try and shape him into another living weapon, using him to utilise the ruby by extension, kill him in hopes that breaks the connection, or cut their losses and continue with other research.

option one is a bust. infinite is far more resistant and deemed far more dangerous than shadow as a result. he won't cooperate, he can't be properly controlled. they decide to get as much information out of him, verbally or via tests, as possible before considering executing him. it's mostly the tests that yield result. infinite's not much of a talker.

he's outfitted in power restricting cuffs and a shock collar intended to zap him if he tries to activate them despite a lack of effect, or in any instance where he lashes out physically. a warning, a threat, like training a dog. it doesn't stay that way. shadow walks by some soldiers having a laugh in the hall, and they're talking about infinite; about how funny it is when they rile him up, or how he jumps when he's zapped, how defeated he looks, how he deserves this. it's disgusting and alarming and however he feels about infinite, something in him urges him to do something about it.

he could go to the commander. he could report that the guards have been abusing their power. but would he listen? would he care? he may not know about this, but he had to given the go ahead for the experiments and the collar and who knows what else. he's beginning to feel rather sick. this could have been him. maybe rouge could keep watch on the guards, but she has other assignments.

things don't get better. and, maybe, shadow has lost his mind – but he can't just pretend he knows nothing, do nothing. so he finds his way to infinite's holding chamber. no windows, just the flicker of a flourescent light illuminating his form; malnourished and slouched, a picture of exhaustion. still, his eyes sharpen when he raises his head. the first thing out of his mouth is a low snarl, tail lashing, and a word spat through sharp teeth: "you."

his aggression doesn't phase shadow much. he expected it.

"finally decided to send in the executioner, did they? or are you just paying me a visit? want in on the action?" he hisses.

shadow doesn't waste his time with unpleasantries.

it's a stupid thing, freeing infinite; an incredibly stupid, impulsive, reckless thing. the jackal seems to be grappling with his disbelief and distrust, but the collar is pried from his neck just as the alarms start to blare. he makes quick work of the restrictors, as well, after a moment's hesitation. and after barking at infinite to move it, jolting him out of his shock, they run to the sound of angry shouts and screeching sirens. he isn't afraid.

they make it, barely. infinite is in terrible shape, collapsing to the ground as he coughs and wheezes, gasping for air. his fur is tangled and dirty, bones prominent, in no position to be exerting himself. shadow is, under his own shock, a little impressed.

he just let infinite loose. he let infinite escape, helped him escape. he aided a terrorist. there's no way GUN would let this go unpunished, infinite is still infinite, unpredictable and probably even more hateful of the world than he was before. the jackal pulls him from his spiralling thoughts, with a raspy "why?" and he looks at him again, beaten down and shaking with adrenaline. infinite may be infinite, but he's barely capable of standing right now. he can shelve that particular concern for a little while.

"what they were doing to you was wrong. i wouldn't wish it on anyone. even you."

infinite casts his eyes at the ground. it feels like such a ridiculous justification when he says it aloud.

they both understand that they need to stick together; infinite can't hold his own (something that infuriates him), and if he gets caught, this is all for nothing but severe punishments for them both. they're both wanted, now, and they're better off as a combined force, even though fighting is not on the table. infinite hates running, and shadow isn't keen on reliving this nightmare, but he thinks of his safehouses and has never been more relieved that he set them up.

they travel together, often utilising chaos control, though at first GUN are tracking them with suspicious ease, giving them no room to breathe. they chipped infinite during one of their experiments, something he was unaware of, and utterly disgusted by, seething with rage. shadow gets tasked with ripping it from the back of his neck and crushing it underfoot.

they move on, and things get easier from there, shifting between hideouts. they start talking more at length, actual conversations. in the meanwhile, GUN are freaking out, sonic and the others are freaking out, because there are two incredibly powerful people on the loose and nobody knows what's going on, or why shadow freed him to begin with. but in freeing infinite, shadow also did the thing that he was too afraid to do. he freed himself.

it's about as shitty as he imagined, but having someone else share the struggle with him is weirdly comforting, even if that someone is infinite. they don't have a longterm plan, but for now, this is sustainable.

and if they start bonding over trauma and developing feelings that they don't know how to deal with that's just the way it goes

[terrence-silver]

Any random 80s Terry headcanons please :)

---

― Undoubtedly fell into the (in)famous aerobic craze of the 80's, or rather, was the aerobic craze of the 80's, where he appeared in multiple extremely high-end, glossy, legitimate and very stylish articles concerning body wellness. Not of the neon spandex variety that was fresh and hip. I mean, truly elegant stuff that only aided his image of a positive benefactor that 'cares about the role models young people consume'. If Kreese had his life-size cardboard cutouts of himself on the entrance of the Cobra Kai dojo, Terry Silver had entire exclusive Men's Health type periodicals detailing how he balances high-powered Yuppie corporate work as CEO and maintaining an immaculately trimmed physique (humbly speaking).

― Relished in having an All-European staff at the time (an English secretary, a Czechoslovakian butler...a Swiss pool cleaner for the laughs and gags, for all we know.) because it was a personal showcasing of wealth on his part and served to cement the idea that America's an exceptional World power during that particular decade, and that he, by extension of money being that plenty and that exceptional, can have a handful of classy, Old World employees and all the status symbol and traditionally associated 'mystique' that entailed as being their Boss (and not the other way around). Economy was booming. He was booming all around. He wanted to show off, simply because he could. So, he did.

― Was possibly embroidered and secretly or not so secretly in cahoots with multiple corrupt governments Worldwide going through the tumultuous transition from dictatorship to an unstable democracy during the 70's and 80's, which tactically allowed Terry (and Dynatox, by extension) to, yes, you guessed it, dispose of toxic materials with ease in the Global South and in Third World Countries as a whole. Toxic materials that would be deemed illegal and absolutely out of the question in any developed ones, but were passable if you knew the right people and officials in (throws dart) Nicaragua. Or hey, case and point, in Borneo. Basically, I am convinced Terry Silver had some very questionable and bizarre names marked down in his phonebook.

― Case and point; to keep it properly 80's --- drugs. Cocaine! He got all of his substances and narcotics right from the source, directly from the people that produced it just for him. Cleanest, purest, highest of quality, because his organism and taste palette deserves the best. Same as his Cuban cigars, which were deemed illegal due to a trade embargo with Cuba at the time. Generally, if one keeps their brain open, again, just envision the type of acquaintances and contacts Terry knew and was connected with during the decade to get ahold of all of these goods. I don't know, it is hilarious (and a little frightening with the right context involved) how plausible and easy it is to imagine a crossover between The Karate Kid III and Narcos, for example.

― On a slightly lighter note, I feel that all throughout the decade, Terry Silver had the tendency to disguise himself; as various things, yes. A hobby all of his own. Hard done by dojo owner, regular Joe Schmoe at the club downtown, struggling martial artist, blue collar guy of the most ordinary variety or just another nameless stranger on the street. You name it. Pre-Internet era, when it was infinitely more difficult to recognize someone, look them up or photograph them in public, he enjoyed going about unbothered and just observing things. People. Situations. Being a bit of a voyeur and a prankster of his own variety, he liked seeing and experiencing how people treat him when they think he's just some nobody and playing with their mind through it for his own amusement.

― At the height of 80's consumerism, there was no need to downplay his wealth, quite the contrary; if Terry lived in a mansion, it was the biggest, most gigantic brutalist bit of property overlooking all of LA from Beverly Hills. If he dressed rich, he wore a red silky ascot like he's a character straight off of Dynasty (and he knew it too!) If he drove around in a car, it was a chauffeured Rolls Royce, of all things. He trained in a white satin Gi as peak decadence. It was only the coming decades that he, as I see it, choose to strategically go about the route of a bit of stealth-wealth, because it became the new acceptable way of being a member of the 1%, and chameleon that he was, he went and adapted. Flew under the radar. Downsized on purpose. Means, that when the 80's ended, the tenure of him dwelling at the Ennis House ended too. And everything that went along with it as well. Times change. Terry (seemingly) changes with them. The earring in his ear had to go too (once it went out of fashion.)

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for letting my son live?

I (50s M) am the emperor of a vast amount of territories. One of these is a province to the south that hasn't settled down since it was conquered by my great-grandfather over a century ago. It is tradition in my family for princes to be sent off at the age of 16 to govern a part of the empire as preparation for their duties as ruler.

Well it seems like two of my boys are unruly. I can understand W (21M) being an attention seeker because I was too busy with his sisters and brother Tb (26M). Have you tried spending time with 6 wives and 26 children while also ruling an empire? It's impossible, I wouldn't have been able to do it even if I tried! So yes, I suppose I can understand why W became one of the leaders of the then-brewing revolution in the province I assigned him to govern. But why the fuck did Tb, my beloved son, order the deaths of all his half-brothers?! I was giving him my love, I raised him to be my guaranteed successor when inheriting the throne is an unpredictable and deadly business for us. He had no reason to betray me like that.

But that's in the past and this isn't about him. Like I mentioned before, W took the brewing tensions in his assigned region and concentrated them into a fullblown revolution with the goal of regaining independence. I responded to his declaration of independence with my own declaration of war.

The war lasted for roughly a year and a half with myself and Tb leading one side while W led his side. It was at this point that his friend approached me to ask if there was anything I wanted in exchange for ending the war. They gave me information I specifically requested and I upheld my end of the bargain. By imprisoning W and all of his high ranking colleagues on the grounds of treason.

Treason is treason, nobody is above the law, not even a son of an emperor. I had to make that clear by punishing him. I even went the extra mile by stripping him of all his titles so he'd die with the same lack of prestige as his comrades. But then I received a bit of intel that made me tweak my plans for W.

Tb and W share a mother and they have a third brother Tm (14M) through her too. Tm was 12 when the war started and like the foolish child he was, ran off to be with W. He was captured along with his brother. In his cell, W begged for Tm to lose his life first so he wouldn't have to die in his big brother's blood. A noble cause, I'll give him that, but this plea gave me an idea.

I organised for Tm to die while W was transferred to a more secure cell where I intend for him to remain in solitary confinement until his own natural death. Apparently this was a bad move. My wife hates me, as do my daughters, while Tb heavily resents the fact I'm using this as an opportunity to keep him in line as well. From what I hear, W is starting to lose his mind down there. The public weren't pleased to see a boy die either but they don't get it. It wasn't about whether Tm deserved to die or whether he was responsible for anything during the war/revolution. My decision was purely based on the fact W needed to learn his lesson in the most effective way possible.

I'm just trying to keep the natural order of things in check and prove that I'm not someone to cross. I mean fuck, I wasn't even going to treat the rebelling province that harshly until W got involved and whipped them up into a frenzy.

Am I really the asshole for punishing a serious threat to my empire when I didn't even kill him?

[the-modernmary]

you’ll always know me || aaron hotchner x reader

Summary: "I would have stayed... If you asked me to.

After your high school graduation, you left without saying goodbye to Aaron Hotchner, your best friend, and nobody had heard from you since. Years later, you're back in DC, and catching up with Aaron brings more than you could have possibly hoped for.

Warnings: mentions of weed

A/N: I really wanted some soft Hotch content in my life after all the angst in my best habit, and this is about as soft as I can get. Inspired by Taylor Swift's "dorothea". Honestly, I was listening to evermore, blacked out for about three hours, and this is what came from that. There is no other explanation for this. It's written differently than my usual style, but I hope y'all like it still!

read on ao3 || masterlist

~~~~~~~

“What’s got you in such a rush?”

  Rossi eyes Aaron carefully as the latter circles around his office, double and triple-checking that he didn’t forget anything. The last thing he wants is to have to come back to the office and cut his day short.

  Aaron shoves a few case files in his briefcase. “An old friend from high school is in town and I’m meeting up with her.”

  Rossi perks up at the word ‘her’ and he leans against the door frame. Aaron notices this, too, because he shakes his head quickly. “It’s not like that. We both got sent to boarding school for being problem children and we became quick friends. I haven’t talked to her since graduation. She just packed up her stuff and left the very next day.”

“You sound bitter,” Rossi points out.

  “Not at all,” he lies, trying to forget the hurt of running to your dorm for your weekly breakfast together, only to be met with an empty room and a singular polaroid. “I knew she hated it there and her goal was to travel and see as many places as she could. Honestly, I’m surprised she’s back stateside at all. Last I heard, she was doing some art apprenticeship in Italy, but that was years ago.”

  “You sound like you have a long evening ahead of you, so I’ll get out of your hair. And have some fun tonight, Aaron. You deserve it,” Rossi adds on as an afterthought. 

  The corners of Aaron's mouth lift slightly. “I will. Try not to let the building burn down while I’m gone. Reid is back on his physics magic kick, and I think I heard something about a lighter.”

  Rossi gives Aaron a two-finger, half-hearted salute in acknowledgment, which is all it takes for Aaron to shut his office door and head towards the elevator. Knowing that you’re just outside, he has to make a conscious effort to slow his pace from an excited jog to just an anxious speed walk. The elevator ride is slow, seemingly stopping at every single floor on the way down, which gives his mind ample time to wander and think back to graduation day.

  “There you are!” Aaron shouts from across the football field as he runs up to you, shoving through bustling groups of families trying to take pictures. He has so many stoles and cords and leis around his neck that you can barely see the suit he’s wearing underneath his gown. It’s a stark contrast to you, with only a singular chord for academic achievement, although a 3.2 wasn’t much of an achievement in the eyes of most people at boarding school.

  “Here I am!” you laugh, throwing your arms around him in a hug and breathing in the smell of his cologne.

  “Where’re your parents? Didn’t they come?”

  “Of course they didn’t. They’re not ones for celebrating something as trivial as high school graduation, not when it’s just expected of me.” You roll your eyes. “What about you? I thought you and Haley were going to do the whole ‘meet the family’ thing today?”

  Aaron is oblivious to the bitterness in your voice, although that’s nothing new. “We are, but I just wanted to give these to you.” It’s then that you notice the bouquet of flowers in his hand, although it’s now being pressed into your arms. “As a congrats. And a thank you for being there for me this whole time. You’re my best friend.”

  You try to ignore the ache in your chest at his words. “Thank you, Aaron. I… I didn’t get you anything, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he waves it off. “If you want to get me something, breakfast is your treat tomorrow.”

  “Okay, deal,” you agree, the smile coming back to your face. Selfishly, you don’t want him to go back to Haley or his family just yet. You want him to stay there with you so you don’t feel so lonely in the crowd of happy graduates. “God, I can’t believe you’re staying in D.C. for college. We always talked about getting out, seeing the world and never coming back.”

  Aaron shrugs, and you watch as he brushes away a piece of his hair that falls into his face. “I’m hoping that going to GW for undergrad will make it easier to get into law school there.”

  “And Haley Brooks is still here for another year,” you point out, half accusatory.

  “Yeah, that, too.” Aaron chuckles uncomfortably before quickly switching the conversation. “What about you? Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

  “There’s an art school in Glasgow I’m thinking of going to. But, you know… George Washington also has an art program. It’s pretty nice, too. I’m still deciding.” You trail off, looking straight into Aaron’s eyes, giving him every chance in the world to make the decision for you.

  Aaron hesitates, fighting an internal battle. “Go to Glasgow!” he says, fake enthusiasm in his voice, but your disappointment blocks out anything but his actual words. “Then I’ll have an excuse to visit Scotland.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was leaning towards, too,” you lie. “Aaron, I—”

  You’re cut off by a voice calling his name. You both turn around to see Haley Brooks waving him over, her other hand holding 7-year-old Sean’s hand. She looks like spring personified, her blonde hair in bouncy curls and her pink sundress swishing around her long, slender legs. Her smile is so big that it could have parted storm clouds, and you want nothing more than to hate her with every single fiber of your being.

  But then you see Aaron, returning her megawatt smile with his own, one you rarely ever saw, and how can you hate somebody who makes him so happy?

  “I have to go, I’m sorry,” he says, although there’s not even a hint of regret in his voice. “But I’ll see you for one last Sunday breakfast tomorrow?”

  “I’ll see you then,” you lied.

  How Aaron could have missed the signs of your unhappiness, he’ll never know. At that time, all he knew was that you left without ever saying goodbye, leaving behind only a polaroid of the two of you from your weekend trip to Virginia Beach, both of you drunk and laughing with your arms wrapped around each other. He still has it, buried in his nightstand somewhere, but he hasn’t had the courage to look at it for a few years now.

  As Aaron steps out of the FBI building, he recognizes you instantly, even though it’s only the back of your head, and it causes his breath to catch in his throat. He calls your name and watches as you turn around, your hair whipping around you, and the fact that you still have that same mischievous glint in your eyes is enough to make him feel like he’s sixteen again and nervously skipping class with you holding his hand and pulling him towards the school gates.

  “Aaron!” You jog up to him and throw your arms around him in a hug, which he happily reciprocates. You press a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling away, and Aaron’s entire face burns.

  You keep your hands on his biceps, holding him at arm’s length, as you study him. He looks almost exactly the same as he did all those years ago, with soft hair and the slightest bit of stubble, but he looks less carefree. He seems more mature, like life had aged him 100 years. Still, as cute as high school Aaron was, it had nothing on how good he looks now. “Look at you, Mr. FBI, all suit and corporate-looking! I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’ve changed quite a bit,” he admits, and the sight of his dimples makes you want to melt right there into the sidewalk. “It’s really good to see you again. I’ve missed you.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you barely thought about me,” you joke, but hurt flashes through your eyes.

  Aaron wants to argue, to tell you that he thinks about you all the time, but decides against it. He doesn’t want to spend the precious few hours he has with you bringing up old issues. “Are you hungry? Because there’s this diner a few blocks down with giant milkshakes.”

  “Why are we still standing here, then? All you had to say was milkshakes, they’re my favorite.”

  “I know. I remember,” he says, and that all-too-familiar pang in your heart comes back like it had never left. “Come on, we can walk and cut through a park.”

  The two of you start your walk in comfortable silence, listening to the bustling city around you. Every once in a while, your hands would bump into his, and you were doing everything you could to ignore it.

  “So did you ever go to that art school?” he asks suddenly, looking over at you.

  You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. “I did. You were right, I loved Scotland.”

  “Where did you go after that? Nobody heard from you.”

  Your eyes sparkle as memories of your life the past few years flash through your mind. “Everywhere. Literally. I took a bunch of odd jobs and spent my time traveling,” you admitted. “I taught English in Vietnam for a year, worked on a cruise ship that went around South America, was an au pair for a French ambassador, went on research expeditions… Even dated a pilot for all of six months. Anything I could do that would let me see the world.” You laugh to yourself, shaking your head fondly. “I really put that private boarding school tuition to good use, huh? My parents were pissed.”

  “It sounds like you were living the life you dreamed of,” Aaron says softly, looking down at you.

  “It was,” you agree, your voice a little sad.

  “So then why are you back here in DC?”

  You shrug, your hands clasped behind your back, and you step down on a particularly crunchy leaf. “I’m just passing through. I’ve been going around the US and looking for a place to settle down. Finally. Figured I might as well put that art degree to good use. Maybe I’ll open a gallery or something.”

  Aaron nods slowly as the chill of autumn runs through his bones. It’s nice, though, in a weird way. He’s always preferred the fall over spring. “Where have you looked so far?”

  “Lots of places. San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, Atlanta, San Antonio, Miami… I’m heading up to New York next. Nothing’s felt right so far. But enough about me, how are you? I heard you married Haley Brooks.”

  That same bitterness you felt in high school when you talked about Haley comes back with a vengeance. It’s unfair, and you know that. How was Aaron supposed to know that you were practically in love with him in high school if you never told him? Even now, you’re sure that he hasn’t put together the pieces.

  You watch as his gaze falls slightly. “I did. She died a few years ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” you whisper, and you reach out to give his hand a small squeeze.

  “We got divorced a little while before it happened,” he explains, unsure why it’s so important to him that you know that. “I blamed myself for it for a long time. But I’ve, uh… I’ve made peace with it now.”

  You give him a comforting smile, fully aware of the fact that you’re still holding his hand. “Aaron Hotchner, making peace with something in his life? I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Aaron chuckles and bumps his shoulder to yours. “I’ve been known to do it a few times. But only a few. Haley and I have a son, though. His name is Jack. He’s 8 now.”

  You shake your head in disbelief, and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “And you’re a father? Wow, you really have changed.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” he asks, and you shake your head wordlessly.

  “I like every version of Aaron Hotchner,” you promise. “Besides, change is a good thing. Especially since this city hasn’t changed a bit.”

  Aaron looks around, eyebrows furrowed, like he’s seeing DC for the very first time. “It’s actually changed quite a bit. But it’s subtle. Only people who have been here as long as I have would even notice it, probably.”

  The words cut through you both as a painful reminder of your abrupt departure from DC, and the silence settles over the two of you like a thick fog. This conversation was going to have to happen no matter what, you knew that going into this meeting with Aaron, but you didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

  “I would have stayed,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “If you asked me to.”

  Aaron shakes his head as his Adam’s apple bobs. “I thought about it. But I couldn’t do that to you. I knew you wanted to see the world, and you said it yourself. This city had nothing left to offer you.”

  You pause, rubbing your thumb over your fingertips with your freehand. “It had you,” you reply, and Aaron feels like he was just stabbed in the heart. “That would have been enough.” Seeing Aaron’s dejected face, you quickly keep talking. “But I get it, don’t worry. You were head over heels for Haley Brooks. Everybody knew you two were meant to be together.””

  “What does that have to do with you leaving?” he asks, more accusatory than he intended.

  “Everything.”

  Aaron breathes out your name, unsure of what to say until he settles on: “I’m sorry.”

  You wave him off, forcing a laugh. “Don’t be. I was 17 years old with a crush. We do stupid things, like want to stay at home for a boy. I’m glad I left. Besides, Haley Brooks was clearly the love of your life, and far be it from me to try and break up the golden couple.”

  The two of you stop in front of the diner and you drop Aaron’s hand, much to his disappointment, although you’re still close enough to him to see your reflection in his brown eyes. “I didn’t know you felt like that about me,” he says.

  “Which is surprising, because everybody else definitely knew. But you’ve always been a little clueless when it comes to stuff like that,” you tease, flashing him a toothy smile. “But it’s in the past. So come on, I want to hear about this FBI stuff and drink a milkshake so big it makes my stomach hurt.”

  Twenty minutes later, you and Aaron find yourselves smushed together in a corner booth covered in cheap vinyl, splitting a chocolate milkshake and laughing as you stroll down memory lane. 

  “You know, I ran into Stephen yesterday! A little coffee shop not too far from here,” you tell Aaron.

  Aaron almost drops the fry he was about to eat. “Do you mean Stoner Stephen? What is he doing back here?”

  You take a sip of the milkshake, and Aaron’s gaze is intense as you wrap your lips around the straw. When you pull back, he’s still staring at the soft pink your lipstick leaves behind. “Apparently, he’s lived here for years. Also, did you know he’s crazy smart? Like… graduated 4th in our class, went to Brown undergrad and Columbia graduate, smart.”

  Aaron’s eyes go wide in disbelief. “And this is the same guy who, completely sober, tried putting his mattress in the pool so that he didn’t have to sleep in his own dorm?”

  “The very same one. He’s like a lobbyist now or something for some activist group.”

  “Wow, I did not expect that. Do you remember when he got so high that he thought his joint was going to catch the dorms on fire?” Aaron asks, the words barely discernible through his laughter. “So he warned campus police that the whole school was going to burn down.”

  “Yes!” you giggle, your head thrown back in laughter. “They thought it was an arson threat and they had to evacuate the whole school. I was taking an English final during that.”

  Aaron’s shoulder pressing against yours makes a shiver run down your spine. You idly wonder how much closer he can get to you if he really tried.

  As if reading your mind, Aaron turns towards you a little more so that your knees are touching and you can feel his breath on the side of your neck. “We went to the beach that weekend,” he says quietly, unwilling to break eye contact with you. “Drank cheap beer. You got stung by a jellyfish. I had to carry you back to the car.”

  No, no. You were not about to fall for Aaron Hotchner’s charm again that easily. Not again. It took you too long to get over him the first time. Still, you were leaning closer to Aaron, and Aaron was leaning in towards you, and your noses brushed as you tilt your head to the side ever so slightly and—

  And his phone rings. Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips one last time before pulling away, giving you an apologetic look.

  “Hotchner,” he answers, and you pull your coat tighter around yourself as realization sinks into you. You feel like you’re 17 again, desperately waiting for Aaron to ask you to prom, only to hide in your dorm for days on end when he asked Haley Brooks.

  When Aaron hangs up, he immediately reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet, setting enough cash on the table to cover the tab and tip. “That was work. We have to fly out to Arizona. I’m sorry.”

  You nod understandingly. “Gotta catch the bad guys. When do you leave?”

  It’s silent for a few torturous moments before he finally answers. “An hour, at most. We brief at the office and then get on the plane.”

  “Wow,” you breathe. “You weren’t kidding when you said that you live out of your suitcase. Can I walk back with you, at least?”

  Aaron smiles, a small smile that makes you wonder how often he actually smiles now. It used to be a lot, but from what he’s told you, it seems like he’s had a rough go of it the last couple of years, and has a lot less to smile about. It makes you sad because when you were traveling the world, his smile was the one thing you missed the most.

  “I’d really like that.”

  The two of you make small talk on the way back, swapping stories about Jack and your various adventures around the globe. The autumn air is crisp with leaves falling all around you. At one point, there was a big gust of wind, and leaves and pine needles got blown onto the two of you, and you took your sweet time running your fingers through his hair, bushing it all off him. 

  When you get to the entrance of the FBI building, neither one of you says anything. You just stand there, both unwilling to say goodbye. You turn to face each other, just as close as you were in the diner booth.

  “Oh, you have a…” Aaron delicately reaches his hand to your hair. His fingers in your hair make your stomach do flips, and you’re almost positive he can hear your racing heartbeat. His eyes stay trained on yours the entire time, never blinking. “Pine needle,” he whispers, holding the offending object between his fingers.

  “Thanks,” you breathe, and you’re not sure if it’s the autumn chill or his hand reaching to cup your cheek that sends goosebumps throughout your body.

  As if he were magnetic, you rise onto your toes, bringing yourself closer to him, and you press your lips against his. Aaron deepens the kiss and runs his thumb across your cheekbone. His other hand wraps itself around your waist. The kiss is slow and sensual and better than anything you could have dreamed of — and you dream of Aaron kissing you more often than you’d like to admit.

  All too soon, the two of you pull away from each other, both wearing matching smiles.

  “I should probably… get in there… before my team sends out a search party,” Aaron says reluctantly, pointing towards the entrance. 

  You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Go save lives. I’ll probably be around for a few more days before heading up to New York. If you’re back by then.”

  Aaron purses his lips, deep in thought. “You’re definitely settling down somewhere? Done with seeing the world?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Have you… Do you think…” Aaron takes a grounding breath, trying to gather the words he was too afraid to ask back at graduation. “Have you ever considered settling down here? There’s a pretty big art community here.”

  You shrug, ignoring excitement building in your chest. “I think my work is a little too experimental for the people of the capitol.”

  “You’d be surprised,” he chuckles.

  You bring your lower lip between your teeth, chewing nervously at it. “I don’t know… I left for a reason. I just don’t know what DC has to offer me anymore.”

  Aaron spreads his arms out at his side, palms facing you in an uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. “There’s me,” he offers, and, when your eyes go wide, he adds, “And Stoner Stephen, if I’m not enough.”

  A laugh bursts out of you uncontrollably, which seems to put both you and Aaron at ease. “That makes it a very tempting offer,” you tease.

  “And I have a coworker who flips houses. He’ll be able to tell you where to get the best deal on an apartment,” Aaron presses as if you need any more convincing. As if your mind isn’t already made up.

  “First, I need to know that there’s more than one good place to get milkshakes,” you point out, shoving your hands in your coat pockets. “You’ll have to show me around when you get back.”

  Aaron’s lips quirk up in a hopeful smile. “It’s a date.”

  He makes his way towards the entrance of the Hoover Building, but you call out his name, stopping him once more. “We’ll also need a new Sunday breakfast place. Since our old one is closed down.”

  Now, his smile is one of pure joy, and his eyes are sparkling in a way you haven’t seen in years. “I know just the place. As long as you don’t up and leave without telling me again.”

  “Never again,” you promise, and for once, the idea of staying doesn’t terrify you.

  “Then we’ll get breakfast together as soon as I get back.”

  You smile at him, already missing the feeling of his lips on yours. “I’ll see you then.”

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

why does jean warn up to mc so quickly? ikevamp makes it clear that jean is a pretty reserved person and doesn't open up or let people in easily but he seems to let mc in quite quickly and it confuses me quite a bit.

Oh boy, where to begin with this one.

Well, I have a lot of Feelings^TM about this, but I'll try to be concise. Essentially, I think Jeanne doesn't recover in the other routes--or the general storyline--largely because he's just a lot to unpack narratively speaking. And without some pretty direct intervention, he has a hard time healing. MC’s direct intervention was meaningful because it was focused, consistent, and adapted to Jeanne’s specific needs. She also doesn’t make light of his experiences which is key; she fully understands that she can’t fathom what he’s been through. There is a very weighty respect and acknowledgement, a seriousness with which she treats his wounds that’s important.

It’s easy to make this a “why is MC nOt LiKe ThE oThEr GiRlS” but honestly that’s just not the sense I get when I look at all the information available to us. 

That being said, I also just feel like every person's recovery from traumatic events doesn't really look the same? I mean Leonardo’s cptsd isn’t going to operate the same way Jeanne’s wartime/Inquisition cptsd is going to operate. Some people require very individualized healing, others will often require a large scale group effort to lift them up.

Typically people don't ever just get over what happened to them and never worry about it again, either. It's usually a process of coping; the hope is that with time you find healthy ways to deal with grief and move forward. Therapists aren't magicians, they just help people process painful experiences/thoughts. It's honestly up to individuals to find meaningful ways to implement these tactics. 

Tl; dr: My contention is that Jeanne doesn’t open up or choose to stay alive because MC magically heals him, rather his recovery is a convergence of many people’s efforts and hopes that he stays alive. Gilles (he insists that Jeanne must live, asks him to promise), MC (affirms and bolsters that promise), Comte (makes a second life and recovery possible)--and in no small measure Mozart and Napoleon--all make an active effort to buoy him. As people often say, it takes a village to raise a child.

While Jeanne seems to respond most powerfully to MC’s attempts, it feels more like a product of chemistry/compatibility than it does a random cop out. There is no insinuation that only romantic love can heal; after all, MC gets close to him without any romantic intentions at first. They’re just good friends? It’s more that their feelings simply moved in a different direction after a point, which doesn’t necessarily happen all the time. Jeanne is also incredibly moved by Mozart’s love for him as a friend, Comte’s love for him as a father, and even Gilles’ love as a comrade to an extent. If anything, without their input Jeanne’s capacity for romantic love would be questionable at best.

Now, because I can never for the life of me stop analyzing, I have a more large scale outline of my thoughts below. Spoilers for Jeanne’s route:

If we look at Jeanne's life history, he has pretty specific trauma. Most of the harm he endured was a direct result of human rights violations after the war itself. He didn't enjoy fighting and killing people, but he's also very much a man that sees the reality of his position: it's either kill or be killed. His entire goal was to defeat the enemy as efficiently as possible in the hopes of ending conflict, and with his enormous resolve turns the tide. He had no innate interest in inflicting harm, or lack of control when engaging. He isn't pathological about it, and doesn’t dehumanize the other side. He was more "this was an act of necessity, but those are still human beings." So as far as I can tell he has a very strong moral compass and sense of duty, he doesn't show much delusion/confusion in that regard. (Also evident in his conversations with the young orphan boy.) Furthermore, he has been shown to have a sense of humor--cracking jokes with Gilles and boosting morale for his fellow soldiers.

His childhood abandonment is significant (he left his home because he was "not an adequate farmhand and they had no ability to feed all their children") but I don't know if I would consider it a huge trauma point for him. It seems as though he deemed it an act of necessity--not spite. It was simply the way of things, and he couldn't help his wiry constitution. You'd be surprised how common that was once upon a time, tbh... While it's certainly not right or fair, it does appear that in his perception it was the choice he made and he moved on after he became a soldier. Just focusing on what he could do, rather than everything he lacked. For people in his position, they often feel it is useless to linger on what should have been. There’s no time to linger or doubt, life hangs in the balance.

That leaves us with his time under the Inquisition, just before he was slated to be burned alive. I think this is the keystone trauma point for him, because there are a lot of moving parts to his powerlessness here. The first part is that his entire life's mission--ending the war so that people would no longer have to die and/or starve as a result of senseless violence--was just sabotaged. All those years of doing things he never wanted to do (wartime violence) and being forced to leave his family to ensure they didn't all starve, all of it treated like some kind of joke. Like he didn't sacrifice years of his life and sanity to protect a people who were happy to call him a monster and watch him burn alive. The second part is the overt gaslighting and rewriting of Jeanne's personal history (and overall French public perception) for the sake of the King's political agenda. To call him a treasonous danger to the country when he was once lauded a hero. The third portion is the actual physical helplessness of being arrested, starved, and continuously maimed for no reason beyond pure malice. While it's never right to do that to any human being, this was done to a man who prided himself on his stalwart moral code. To abuse and torture him for something egregious that he would never do (at the risk of death) is just another slap in the face to everything he is and believes in.

I just feel like the context clarifies why that period of time would be the tipping point. His entire moral code and life’s work is being called into question and swept aside, as well as his agency? He believes very powerfully in a sense of right vs wrong, what's fair and what isn't fair. Somebody else deciding that for him--and deciding in a way that is openly unfair/incorrect--further makes him lose himself and his sense of reality. A person in that situation begins to doubt if they are good or bad. His belief in god all the more pressing; if he was a good person, why would fate bring him so much suffering? Honorable soldier or not, his blade has drawn so much blood...

People often reference his stilted social skills (and I am of the belief that he is on the autistic spectrum) as a reason why he is so "people-adverse" but tbh? I don't agree. His memories before the onset of this trauma reveal that he was actually a very warm person, and that people were more than willing to fight under his banner. He had friends, and he had comrades--his country loved him. He was the picture of well-meaning civic duty. Just because he doesn’t integrate smoothly into larger social groups or adapt well to socially shifting circumstances, doesn’t mean he just hates people lmao. When people give him the space to exist within his comfort zone and don’t take advantage of him, he thrives. Compounded by that, we also have his actions in the present to further prove what is true and what isn't.

While he is stern with the orphan boy (I'm sorry I can't remember his name, damn it) there is no malice or cruelty in what he has to say. He doesn't punish the kid or do anything out of line. It may not be fair in terms of the adult level of discretion he asks of him, but the kid also didn't have a lot of options realistically speaking lmao. Same thing with MC, she and the orphan boy are nearly identical in how Jeanne treats them. He's a little rough, but the route reveals that his intentions are just a reflection of what he's been through. He truly believes that if a person isn't strong, they won't survive--because his entire life was a series of trying to be strong/reliable because nobody else would. There was nobody to protect him, and nobody to care for him went things went south. It was him and his sword against the world, and even his exceptional skill as a fighter did not protect him from the Inquisition's arbitrary torture. He has lived in a world where good acts can become absolutely meaningless, where following rules and helping people still gets you slaughtered. That's going to take a considerable toll on his mental health: where do you find the will to go on when the next second of your life could mean the devastation of everything that matters to you?

Spoilers: you don't. Or if you do, every minute of the day is a fight to stay alive. That is the point at which we meet Jeanne. Caught in the hellish whirlpool of wanting more, wanting better--but being terrified of the cost. The cost of hoping, only for his entire world to go up in flames again. It's not a small thing, in my view.

If you have any doubts as to whether or not that is the case, I direct you to literally every singular instance in which Jeanne's emotional sensibility goes visibly dark/south. When do these instances happen? When it rains, for one. And when Shakespeare deliberately starts pressing on his sensitivities: about the soldiers he was forced to kill, about the nation that spurned him, how he's truly "wicked" at heart and doesn't deserve to be happy--seconds before flames erupt for the festival. Does that really sound coincidental? I mean lmao. The rain is a painful reminder, but MC transforms that memory into something a little lighter with her bet. He has nothing to lose in her game, all she does is ask for time with him or offers him something if she loses. There's a playfulness there, a restoration of agency and ease that's invaluable to his recovery.

As for Shakespeare's deliberate retraumatization...I can't even begin to explain how damaging that event was. Shakespeare is undermining Jeanne's agency in that he--not unlike the corrupt monarch of Jeanne's era--is twisting Jeanne's beliefs to work against him. He knows full well that Jeanne doesn't feel like he deserves somebody so bright and understanding (we need to remember it's not really a luxury he's had much in life, especially after the war ended). He knows Jeanne has a tendency to impose that strict moral code on himself even more than he does on others. To reaffirm his every worst fear and lurking terror only throws Jeanne into a vicious downspiral. Jeanne doesn't reject MC out of disgust or hate. He rejects her because he literally cannot handle the concept of trying to be happy again, or of burdening her with his constant struggle to move on while he’s in the middle of a bad episode. He knows he won’t be able to stop reliving the past, that every second of his life and breath will be colored by his gruesome memories. He's trying as hard as he can to keep the intrusive thoughts quiet, to move on. But I'm not going to lie to any of you, that is incredibly difficult to do alone.

The next obvious question is, well why can't the other men help him? This isn't to say that they can't--we see how much solace Jeanne finds in Napoleon and Mozart. Even Isaac is gentle with the veteran. But there are limits to how much they can do. Napoleon is struggling with his own wartime trauma, and it's not identical to Jeanne's. Plus there’s a distinct difference in their sensibilities? Napoleon is the type to habitually seek comfort in helping others when he can't help himself, he's not as in tune with answering his own personal feelings and regulating them. (I mean just look at his new ES: he knows what he wants, but it takes a nudge from Isaac for him to go through with it.) He’s very communally reliant in ways Jeanne isn’t; Jeanne is a very private person, and typically prefers one on one from what I can tell.

Mozart is the definition of repression, and if you look at their interactions it's usually Jeanne that's smoothing over Mozart's rough edges. Mozart says as much himself: that he feels like a rotten friend because he knew Jeanne was struggling with a lot of intense trauma, but he didn't know how to unravel it without hurting him in the process. Mozart calls it personal cowardice, but honestly I just feel like they both had too much going on to be able to help each other effectively. (And Jeanne expresses this sentiment too? This idea that he's not angry with Mozart? He knows they're both carrying a lot, he's just touched Mozart cares about him in return.)

Okay, briefly unrelated, but like. Am I the only one that wheezes uncontrollably when Mozart is like "?????? Idk what it is about MC...I don't want her to be scared of me..." in his own main story in the baths. And Jeanne. IS TRYING SO HARD. NOT TO SPILL THE BEANS ABOUT HIM O B V I O U S L Y BEING IN LOVE. THE HILARITY I CAN'T DO THIS. Jeanne was like "yeah....yeah that's rough buddy.......[screams internally, give your boy time Jeanne he's fragile]"

Honestly? That's the thing about Jeanne too--he has incredible self-awareness and hyperarousal-related (I mean the PTSD kind, get your head out of the gutter) awareness to the people around him. He's very, very conscious of the fact that he is surrounded by geniuses when he can't even write his own name. Just because he has the fortitude not to lash out with his insecurities, doesn't mean he never feels stupid or inferior. And it doesn't help when there are people in the mansion who call him--a fucking war veteran from 500 YEARS AGO--nAiVe. He's not naive lmao. He just doesn't know how the world works so many years later, and it's a ridiculously steep learning curve? Leonardo and Comte are nearly 500 years old, but they lived throughout every hour of that time in a linear fashion. It is a big deal to be moved from 1430 to 1890 in the span of a second asynchronously, and then be expected to function without a hitch??? Given the circumstances he adapts well.

That atmosphere--this constant impatience with what he doesn’t understand, his inability to be caught up to speed quickly--is going to hinder his recovery lmao. He feels like a burden most of the time, and agency and freedom are crucial.

Another thing that occurs to me about the mansion's arrangement is that there is a power dynamic, just as any space with people in it has some level of hierarchy (unless you live with miraculously chill people). Jeanne is acutely aware that Comte is the most powerful being in that space, and he is not only hatefully angry at him--but likely afraid too. We have to remember that the biggest betrayal he witnessed in his life was at the hands of a monarch; it was the aristocracy that turned on him and erased the truth. Comte is openly a child that resulted from both that era and that type of lineage, I don't really blame Jeanne for being wary. He intimately knows how willing rich people are to throw normal folks under the bus to suit their ambitions/whims. Comte, while not deliberately threatening, also seems to be painfully aware of this impression he gives off. His "chad persona" as I've mentioned allows him to navigate his life in secret by necessity, but it’s actively damaging to his son. He can't reveal the truth because of Vlad's betrayal, and he's openly unsettled by what it could mean to be honest. Will they wonder about Vlad and find themselves ensnared under his mind control as Charles and Shakespeare are? Will Comte himself be subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being known only to lose them?? That's a risk he isn't willing to take--and that leaves him in a double bind.

What is it that they say, the truth will set you free? This is where MC and Comte come into enormous play when it comes to Jeanne's recovery. One thing to keep in mind is that most of the people in the mansion have their own traumas they're trying to carry, and I feel like a lot of them are unsure how to approach Jeanne. Or if they do, he's very guarded. It takes a lot of consistent effort to get through to him. What does MC do when Jeanne unleashes his harsh worldview on her? She's understandably frightened, but Jeanne isn't malicious (so she chases him around). In fact, he openly avoids and runs away from her--well aware that what he's done is wrong. If anything, he did it on purpose, bringing us right back to Shakespeare's verbal undoing; why does Jeanne attack her in the first place?

LMAO. He attacks her because she essentially says "oh thanks for helping me!" "I am not nice. Watch yourself." "But you seem like a nice guy to me?" "REEEEEE" Does the pattern become a little clearer? When people think kindly of him, his instinct is to shatter that illusion with an impulsive reprehensible act. When people think poorly of him or lash out, what does he do? When that orphan boy starts yelling and screaming, Jeanne is nothing but calm. He explains the situation, and offers the kid a choice, perfectly happy to be the bearer of bad news. This operates on many levels I’m sure, but I have a feeling it has something to do with him being hailed a saint and a war hero only to be tortured and branded a monstrosity (and he probably thinks being a vampire is doubly monstrous). He’s more comfortable being hated because he feels it’s what he deserves in a lot of ways.

Jeanne has a lot of internalized self-hatred because of what he's done, and because of how much harm was inflicted on him outside of his control (he's Catholic and he was tortured, come on this writes itself). If I'm honest, I think that's actually the greater part of why he hates Comte lmao. Comte refuses the very concept of being cruel no matter how much Jeanne lashes out. Sure he lectures him and scolds him, but he never actively limits what's important to him or controls or harms him. Comte fully realizes the tragedy of how Jeanne's life was used by a nation in dire straits, and knows he needs time and acceptance to heal. No matter how dismal or unhappy, Comte doesn't stop--he fully believes Jeanne should have time in his life where he can really live for himself for once. But therein lies the issue, Jeanne doesn't know how to live for himself.

Which brings me to how MC and Comte "heal" Jeanne. I feel like they give him the space he needs to recover, and that's what results in his gentled temperament and happiness. Remember that so much of his main story is MC endlessly chasing after Jeanne. No amounts of his hissing or running or threatening stops her. Even if his refusals are empty of real dislike, they're enough to deter most people. Not MC. She's able to see through to the depths of who he is, and doesn't just use him for her own ends? She actively seeks to teach him (to read and write) to help him settle better in this era, she actively tries to ease his distaste for rain with a well-meaning bet, and she never gives up on him. (Actions mean so much more to him than words in general too, tbh...). Love is more easily defined by work and effort than it is by attraction.

When he has his episode at the festival, sure she's rattled; but that's because she truly believed that he didn't want to be around her anymore. When she notices he really doesn’t want to be followed, she stops like any normal person would. It’s only when she reads his notebook and sees the truth for herself (that he’s given up despite having the same feelings for her) that her determination is rekindled. She doesn't approach him fearfully, doesn't treat him like he's made of glass either. She just wants him as he is--accepts and loves him as he is. Scarred, bloody, exhausted, abrasive, terrified. She doesn't define him by how easy he is to love. That is a huge issue with traumatized people lmao. Because of their maturity, people always just assume they don't need help, or they rely on them to an extent that isn't sustainable. The second they reveal need or that they struggle, people walk away or victim blame them because it’s easier than taking them seriously.

While MC's attempts may be a little more obvious (cherishing his lily field, wearing the hair pin he gave her, careful about his gruesome injury, really listens when he talks about the horrors of his life and accepts that he experienced a level of agony/terror she can never understand, tries to express her feelings no matter his evasion) I think it's also important to consider Comte's large scale effort. I don't say this to undermine MC, I say it because Jeanne's life was defined by a complete lack of security. He left his parents to make their lives easier, he lived in a war that meant life or death any second, and his country's leader branded him a traitor which lead to his endless torture and public execution. Jeanne does not know a life in which safety is the norm. Point blank. He does not understanding going outside and not expecting the worst anymore.

Comte not only understands that level of despair, but treats it with dignity and respect. He fully accepts being hated if it means Jeanne can use that hatred to live on and find a way to heal. And most importantly, when Jeanne begins to move forward with MC and Mozart's help, Comte never once holds it against Jeanne when the truth is revealed. He's not angry, this isn't about reprisal or reparations or revenge. It's just love.

Jeanne doesn't really have a concept of this? His entire life was mostly transactional, defined by strength and efficiency. Nobody gives a damn about your feelings. You either hurl yourself at the problem or die. Nobody is going to help you or carry you or save you. While he may have had a little more support while he was in the military from his fellow soldiers, that support system was ripped away from him during the Inquisition.

One very common sentiment regarding elongated imprisonment and torture is that survival occurs in pairs. It is an undeniable fact that people need others to survive. It is the nature of who we are. Individualism has never proven to be successful, or if it is, its dividends are astronomically minimal when compared to people working together.

What does it mean to be the most reliable, steady person in the room? Usually it just means you don't know how to ask for help when you are no longer capable of maintaining that stance. Napoleon is guilty of it. Leonardo, Comte, and Jeanne all are too. It's part of why MC and Comte's capacity to see what he needs and provide as much as they can is such a big deal. That sort of consistent support (without a constant necessity to beg for help) allows Jeanne to be able to re-integrate into his new reality and find joy. Even if his nightmares and memories never go away, they are now being actively overrun by positive experiences. That's the thing about recovery, really--it tends to be more about drowning out the negative as much as possible and coming to terms with it, than it is about forgetting or never feeling it again. It’s about softening the sharp edges of pain like sea glass.

So is MC magical and randomly got Jeanne to open up? Nah, I don't think so. I think it was a series of persistence and real acceptance of who he is that made him warm up. People really seem to underestimate how deeply affecting understanding is, but that's how damage is undone. Jeanne can't really linger on the idea of his own monstrousness, his unworthiness, a lifetime of misery, when the person in front of him actively listens and cares about him. Makes him laugh and smile and lose himself in warmth for the first time.

If I'm honest, I feel like people also just...underestimate the level of traumatic resurgence that's perpetuated and inflicted by society’s standards in general lmao. This rhetorical structure in which good and bad exist in moral extremes, this idea that people should be able to recover and never experience relapses or periods of sensitivity. The refusal to radically listen to people and their problems, and make active attempts--not matter how small--to mend/ease those hurt feelings. Granted there will always be people in the world who do not want to improve, but I feel like most people want to. It's hopelessness, silence, and stigmatization that remain the true enemies of traumatized/mentally ill people everywhere. And among that population are always war veterans...

[gumnut-logic]

Census

After my little hissy fit last night about not being able to write, I spent all day today doing exactly that. 5000 words later and we have this rambling fic. I had to fill in our Census today, so I figured the Tracys could too. It went places I did not expect.

There are a couple of anachronisms in this fic. It is based in 2060 for census reasons, but I mention at least two characters interacting with the Tracys from later seasons. Please ignore and enjoy anyway :D

There are also a couple of vague references to ship, but no real ship, I promise.

Thank you in particular to @katblu42​ and @willow-salix​  and the other members of Thunderfam who kindly checked on on me last night while I was bemoaning my inability to write. Sorry if I was exasperating. I have a degree in that. If it helps, no one gets more annoyed with me than I do ::hugs you lots::

Rambly, mostly brotherly conversations and doesn’t really go anywhere, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

-o-o-o-

How Gordon got there first was no mystery. Virgil was just too damned tired after three rescues in a row and Scott had been tied up with Tracy Industries for most of the day. Grandma could possibly have been on it if she hadn’t been filling in for John who had broken out his exo-suit to yank a couple of free floaters out of the sky.

He was still muttering about idiots and safety. His mood was not improved by the fact Grandma insisted he come down for the night so he could be counted.

Consequently, his muttering also included cursing bureaucracy even though Virgil knew census night was a favourite of the astronaut.

Perhaps Gordon got to the form first because he knew everyone else was tired and grumpy and needed a kick in the pants. Virgil had to admit with a fond thought that his little brother was prone to throwing joke bombs amongst them when the mood was through the floor.

Virgil had no issues wondering why Alan wasn’t the one poking at the form. Their resident teenager wasn’t interested at all.

“Okay, guys. What is our address? What did we put last time?”

Alan didn’t even look up from his game. “Tracy Island.”

Gordon, who was sitting at Dad’s desk, staring at the holographic form, hesitated. “Did Dad register that with the powers that be?”

“What?” Alan really wasn’t paying any attention at all.

Virgil sighed. He was sitting on the couch with one of his uniform boots on his lap attempting to pick out several penetrating objects out of the sole. His last rescue had been a collapsed factory and he was still trying to work out what exactly it was that they made that could penetrate his specialist footwear.

Fortunately, despite multiple incursions, he only had a scratch on his left foot, more an annoyance than anything, but these objects were frustrating and suspicious.

“Dad did all the right things. Tracy Island is the official name now.” The pliers weren’t quite gripping the piece of metal properly. The grip slipped and Virgil swore.

“Now? What was it called before?”

“Deserter’s Rock.” Scott strode in from the kitchen, a coffee in hand, and grimace on his face. His usually perfect hair was scruffy, as if he had been running his hands through it.

Virgil frowned up at him. “You okay?”

His brother took the steps down into the lounge and sighed. “Nothing a holiday won’t fix.” It was Scott’s turn to frown. “What’s with the boot?”

“Deserter’s Rock? Really?”

It was John who answered, very much like Alan, staring into his tablet and barely paying attention. “Really. Three sailors were stuck here for months. Only one survived. That’s why there is a cairn on Tracy Peak.”

“I thought that was a pile of rocks put there by Dad.” Gordon seemed genuinely surprised. “You mean there are two dead guys on the Island?”

“Along with their ghosts, yeah.” John still didn’t look up.

“Ghosts?” Alan did look up at that, eyes wide. “What ghosts?”

“The one’s who keep stealing my Bailey’s ice cream.”

“Oh.” Alan went back to playing his game, his eyes definitely not darting between John and Gordon at all.

“Okay, moving on…so where do I put ‘Tracy Island’ in this thing? It’s not a suburb, state or territory…do we have a postcode?”

“It’s a locality. Shove it in there.” Virgil grit his teeth and yanked hard at the piece of metal embedded in his boot. A grunt and a flex of heavy lifting muscles and…it didn’t move at all. What the hell?

“Okay, whatever.” Gordon half sung ‘Tracy Island, Kermadec Ridge, South Pacific Ocean’ to himself as he entered it into the form. At least he was being specific. Virgil glared at his boot.

“Next. Who gets to be head of household? Oh, the Householder?” A pause in which Virgil poked at his boot, Scott sipped his coffee with closed eyes, Alan killed three zombies with a grin and John sat motionless still staring at his tablet.

“Okay, then. It’s me.” Gordon grinned to himself.

Nobody looked up, but all four other brothers said simultaneously and in chorus. “It’s Grandma.”

Virgil flexed his hand and picked up his pliers again. Peripherally, he watched Gordon’s shoulders drop. Even the Fish couldn’t argue with that.

“Fine. It’s Grandma.” He reached up and touched the box to open that section of the form. “Where is she anyway?”

Virgil tried to get a better grip on another chunk of metal in his boot. “Yoga. Don’t disturb her.” Yoga was Grandma’s mindfulness time and after today, it was well overdue. “Leave her be.”

“I wasn’t going to. Sheesh. So, name. Sally Tracy.” He typed in her name. “Person two?”

“Scott Tracy.” Okay, so Virgil had a bit of a thing about this. His brother deserved acknowledgement for everything he had done.

Gordon glared at him. “And so I guess the rest of us are in age order?”

Virgil flipped his boot over. “Whatever floats your boat, fishboy.” A glance in Scott’s direction and he had to wonder if his brother had fallen asleep, he was that still. The coffee mug in his hand was the only proof of consciousness.

Virgil fought the urge to save it. “Scott, you wanna go to bed?”

“Wha-?” His brother sat up. “I’m fine.” Fortunately, he put the coffee mug down. The chances of Virgil having to treat burns tonight dropped significantly.

“How do you spell ‘Hackenbacker’?”

Virgil did not grace that with an answer as it was obviously a stupid question.

John was apparently on auto as he spouted off the required letters anyway while still staring at his tablet.

Gordon poked at the form in silence for a little while and Virgil wondered what on Earth he was entering. He trusted his brother. This was an official document, after all, but he was still Gordon.

“Okay, guys, I need your information.”

Beside Virgil, Scott ‘woke up’. “What, no questions about Grandma?”

Gordon frowned at his eldest brother. “I’ll have you know that I know our grandmother very well. We have a special kind of relationship.”

Alan snorted.

“What? You got something to say, sprout?” The fish glared at Alan enough to torch him on the spot.

“I’m just saying that after that time with Grandma’s diver’s license, you should know Grandma’s details very well. Her birthdate, her ancestry, her suit measurements…”

A starfish plushie suddenly had a very short career as a ninja star and bounced off Alan’s head. “Shut up, Alan.”

Their little brother only giggled more.

John, still staring at his tablet, raised an eyebrow. “Allie, Grandma baked some cookies yesterday. I think there are still some in the cupboard. Would you like some?”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Alan threw the plushie at his fish brother, missing completely, and went back to playing his game. There was muttering about Gordon making jokes but Alan not being allowed to.

Virgil sighed to himself.

“Scotty, what’s your age? It’s 2060 for reference. Oh, and your gender.”

All signs of sleep fell away and Scott sat up. “Gordon…” It was all warning.

“Hey, I’m just giving you the opportunity to offer an alternative. After all, tonight you look at least fifty-six.”

“I’m thirty-one and you know it.”

Gordon poked at the form. “Thirty-one years young. Got it.”

Scott grunted at him.

“Virg, are we telling the truth this time?”

“Depends on whether you want me to leave you in the ocean next time.” Why the hell couldn’t he get this out of his boot?

“To threat level already, you are grumpy tonight.”

“Gordon…” Virgil echoed Scott from earlier to the note.

“Johnny?”

“No one named ‘Johnny’ lives here.”

Gordon signed. “John Glenn Tracy, how would you like me to record your age?”

“Accurately.”

“Fine.”

“If I say I’m thirty-two, do I get to go higher up on the form?” Alan looked hopeful.

“If you like.” Gordon moved things around on the display.

Virgil gave up. The locality of Tracy Island was destined to be a statistical anomaly anyway. At least it would be an interesting one.

Besides, John would probably hack it later and fix it. The fact he had hardly protested so far was eminent proof of that security factor.

“Scotty, are you the husband or wife of Grandma?”

Scott rubbed his face and didn’t bother to answer, picking up his coffee again and burying his face in it.

Virgil just wished he would go to bed. The man was a zombie.

Gordon took the hint and was quiet for a little while. Virgil went back to tugging on his boot. Maybe he should take this down to his workshop.

The thought of actually working more had his shoulders slumping enough to alert Scott. The concerned and questioning look shot in his direction had Virgil sitting up a little straighter to fend it off.

“John, where should we put your usual place of residence?”

“Here.”

“But you live in space.”

“So do you.”

“Pedantic much?”

“As necessary. Tracy Island is home. Thunderbird Five is merely in our astronomical backyard, not to mention secret.”

Virgil looked up at that. It was a simple statement, but it was good to hear that John still considered Tracy Island home despite his multiple protests over the years.

“Fine. Secret space station wasn’t an option anyway. I could flub it and use Global One but then that would spark all those rumours about you and that captain all over again.”

“Gordon, I can hack your bank accounts.”

“Go for it.”

“I can also hack your fish tanks.”

The aquanaut shot to his feet. “You touch my tanks and you’re dead, spacehead.”

John didn’t react other than to smile just a little.

Their space brother could be a right royal ass when he wanted to be. Virgil sighed. “John, you know the rules.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t break any.”

“You touch my tanks, I’m spicing up your atmosphere on Five. I’m not kidding. I have fart gas resources even you can’t find.” Gordon was still on his feet and actually appeared angry.

John shuddered. “TMI, Gordo. Not interested in your gas capacity, honestly.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Gords, John’s not doing anything to your fish tanks. He knows the rules, don’t you, John.” He arched a prompting eyebrow at his brother.

“Never said I didn’t.”

Definitely an ass.

“Gordon, calm down. You can put John’s relationship to you in as ‘nemesis’ if it makes you feel better.”

“I can only put in our relationship to Grandma. I wrote favourite grandson in yours.”

It was Virgil’s turn to shrug. “I’m not going to complain. Sit down and finish the form.”

His brother didn’t answer, but he did sit down, albeit still glaring at John.

John had gone back to his tablet, doing who knew the hell what.

Definitely an ass.

Virgil turned back to Gordon. “What’s the next question, Gords?”

The glare switched to Virgil for a second before turning to the form. “Where were we born?”

“Kansas.”

“I know that. What about Grandma, Brains and Kayo?”

“Space.” Alan said it with triumph.

“What?”

“Where John lives. Isn’t that what the question was?” Alan stared between his brothers.

“Go back to sleep, Alan.”

“Grandma was born in Kansas, Brains was born in India, and Kayo was born here.” Scott proved he was still awake by suddenly providing information enough to make Virgil jump.

Gordon poked at the form, but nothing further was said on that front. Everyone knew Kayo was sensitive about her past, and while she wasn’t in the room, she would find out and partially kill anyone responsible.

“Kayo is here tonight, isn’t she?”

Virgil yanked on his boot again, slipped and managed to elbow Scott in the ribs. His brother grunted.

“Oh, shit, sorry. You okay?” He shoved the boot aside and the pliers along with it.

Scott eyed him and rubbed his side. “That answers your question, Gordon. Kayo is on a conference call with Captain Rigby.”

Virgil glared at Scott.

Gordon eyed the both of them. “Is there something you two aren’t telling the class?”

“Shut up, Gordon.” Virgil glared at Scott a moment longer, enough to have his brother’s expression fall into one of concern. Grabbing his boot again, Virgil went back to wrestling with embedded metal. Damned specialised rubber was amazing when it protected him but when its tolerances were overrun, it was a pain to fix. Maybe he should ask Max to give it a yank. “What entertaining religion are you using this time, Gords?” Any attempt to get the conversation off this topic.

Gordon stared at him a moment, obviously still trying to work out what the hell happened there.

Scott was dead later; Virgil was going to make sure of it. Tired or not, he had crossed a line.

A sideways look in his eldest brother’s direction and it was obvious Scott realised that. Okay, maybe he could let it go. It had been a long day and they were all tired.

Probably should go to bed.

He went back to fighting with his boot.

Gordon was still staring but even the fish knew when to shut up apparently, because the next words out of his mouth were entirely religious.

“I’m worshiping Neptune this year.”

Alan frowned. “I thought you said that last time.”

“Dad wouldn’t let me.”

That brought the whole room to a standstill. Last census was ten years ago. Flashback to that time brought everything that had changed into the bright glaring light. The biggest change being Dad’s absence. But even more, ten years ago they were still based in Kansas, IR was in development, but not yet a reality. Alan was only six, Gords eleven and with his body still intact…it was a completely different time. Virgil was still in college and had to fill in his own census form in Denver.

Gordon broke the looming silence with a determined smile. “This time the government gets the truth. Scott bows to the sky gods, Virg worships molemen, Johnny is a god, and Alan is Satan.

“Hey!” It was said by multiple brothers at once.

Only John remained calm. He even had a smile. “In that case, I want bagels every Sunday.”

“You get bagels every Sunday. Virg sends them up all the time.” Alan glared at his space brother – Alan did not like bagels.

John grinned wider. “I’ll take that as proof that I have at least one faithful worshipper.”

“Next time you can get your own bagels.” Virgil glared at his brother.

Gordon snorted. “Yeah, right, you old softie. John could blow up Two and you’d still send him his bagels.”

Virgil found himself glaring at Gordon again. It seemed to be a theme tonight. “Short pier, long walk, Gordon, go for it.”

He got a smirk for that. “Don’t mind if I do. A little night diving is quite spectacular around here.”

Virgil ignored him and went back to his boot…which he had made zero progress on for all the time he had been sitting here, damnit.

“Does Virgil ever ‘need someone to help with or be with him for self-care, body movement, or communication activities’?” Gordon typed into the form. “Before coffee.”

Virgil ignored him some more as Alan took the bait and snickered. “Better watch it, Gords. Won’t be long before ‘before coffee’ time kicks in. Look at him, he’s already brewing.”

The piece of metal in his boot finally shifted a little. Thank goodness.

“Long term health conditions.” Gordon slumped in his seat. “Well, isn’t this cheerful.”

“Just fill it in, Gordon.” Scott’s words were little more than a sigh.

That left a gaping silence. Gordon tapped a lot at the keyboard filling in far too much. More for himself, obviously, but then there was John and his space issues, and they all had been diagnosed with something on the list hanging above their father’s desk.

Except Alan, who could not be left out. Virgil pretended to not be able to read the word ‘zombification’ next to his little brother’s name.

“Schooling? Oh man, John, you can write all the letters after your name. I can never remember them all.”

“Not a problem.” The astronaut poked at his tablet and the hologram in front of Gordon sprouted half the alphabet.

“Really? Did you get a new one?” He stared at John. “When did you get time for that?”

John shrugged. “Made time.”

“What’s this one for?”

“Oceanography.”

“What?”

“You were in the ocean. I didn’t know enough to help. So I fixed the problem.”

Gordon just stared.

Virgil, of course, knew. He had been the one to field John’s version of panic the day he didn’t know enough to help Gordon. John was practical. He saw a problem, he fixed it. Oceanography wasn’t an obvious topic for the starman, but he was a genius and that genius could be applied where he wished it to be.

If Virgil had found himself helping John at a few points that intersected with his specialities along the way, he was just going to take a little comfort from being able to return the favour after years of borrowing his brother’s brains for other topics.

And besides, it had meant he had been able to spend a little extra time with John. Always a good thing.

Despite him being the occasional ass.

Gordon was still staring. “Is that why you bugged me to take you out in Four?”

John shrugged. “Partly. Didn’t mind spending a bit of time with you either. Good experience to familiarise myself with Four as well.”

The stare continued.

“Be careful you don’t catch any flies with your mouth open.”

The stare became a glare. “We’re talking about this. You and me.”

“Sure.”

Gordon looked like he didn’t know whether to yell at him or run over and hug his brother. Virgil was voting for the latter.

But everything was interrupted by a sudden snore and snort.

Virgil turned to Scott and found his brother startled awake, likely by his own snore.

“Wha-?”

“Scott, you need to go to bed.”

“I’m fine.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Do I need to pick you up and carry you?”

“I’m fine.” He waved Virgil away, sat up straighter and attempted to guzzle whatever was left of his probably cold coffee.

“Idiot.”

“What?”

“Go to bed.”

“No. We need to finish the census.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I want to.”

“Why?”

“Can you stop that?”

“Can you go to bed?”

“No!”

“You need sleep.”

“I can manage my own health, thank you, Doctor Virgil.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I am an adult.”

“Sometimes.”

“Virgil!”

Gordon let off a loud snort. “That’s it. I’m putting you two in as married.”

“Gordon!” Both of them, in chorus. It was apparently a theme tonight.

“Well, you both argue like an old married couple, what can I do?”

“You can shut up and move onto the next question.”

Gordon poked his tongue out at Scott, but he didn’t stop grinning and Virgil was forced to hold back a smile himself.

Bratty little fish.

He was still smirking when he said, “Employment.”

“Oh god.” Scott sank back onto the couch and rubbed his face with his hands.

There followed a book’s worth of employment activities.

“Rocket surfing is not an occupation, Gordon.” Virgil sighed.

“Why not? Both Scott and Allie surf rockets.”

“Alan rides a rocket sled and Scott is just trying to give me grey hair.”

“Has he succeeded yet?” Bratty fish.

“None of your business.”

“So is International Rescue paid or unpaid work?” Gordon was frowning at the form.

“Unpaid.”  Scott’s tone was sharp.

“So are we unemployed, employed or self-employed?”

“Self-employed.”

“How much do you earn a year, Scotty?”

Their eldest brother paused as if calculating, but then threw up a hand. “Stuffed if I know.”

John snorted and rattled off a number.

“There isn’t enough space for that many zeros here, John.”

“Give me a moment.”

The display in front of Gordon flickered and each of their names received a variety of numbers…except for Alan.

“Hey, how come I don’t have any earnings?”

“You are a minor.” John spoke calmly, as if speaking to a minor.

“But I do stuff for Tracy Industries, I do.”

“All your income is held in trust, you know that.”

“Then who is paying for all that popcorn I bought this morning?”

Scott sighed. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to bust the bank.”

“We own the bank.”

Scott stared at John. “When did we buy a bank?”

“I bought it for your birthday last year but forgot to give it to you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m writing obscenely rich next to all our names. Oh, except for you, Allie. You’re a pauper.”

“Hey! You suck, Fishbrain.”

“Remember who might need to lend you money in the next couple of years…”

“While Gordon remembers who lent him money in the past, who still helps him with his finances, and who also is the one to fish him out of the ocean after every mission.” Virgil pinned Gordon with his eyes.

Gordon blinked. “You have a point.” A pause as a smile crept over his face. “Who was that again?”

The hologram of the census form wobbled as a lounge cushion flew through it and hit Gordon squarely in the face.

“Right on target. Hmm, I’ve still got it.” Scott blew imaginary smoke off a finger gun.

Unfortunately, Scott may have still had it, but he wasn’t the best marksman on this census form. The cushion rebounded via aquanaut and hit Scott squarely in the face with an oomph.

This forced both Virgil and Alan to come to his defence and for a full ten minutes after that, it was an all-out pillow fight between the brothers. Even John was drawn in as Gordon came up behind him and tried to stuff one down the back of his shirt.

Which wasn’t advisable since his gravity support was still in play. But then John was king of the noogie and immediately grabbed a head full of strawberry blond hair, dragged it down onto the couch beside him and made sure it received the full-on noogie treatment.

Gordon did squawk quite a bit.

An extreme one-on-one joust erupted between Scott and Alan. It was that determined that Virgil had to back out. Alan, being the terrier he was, managed to get Scott on his back on the lounge and sat on him pummelling him with pillows.

Virgil had suspicions that the game was rigged.

In any case, he had to find somewhere else to sit and tinker with his boot.

Eventually, Gordon found his way back to the census form. Scott was still on his back and apparently Alan had decided he preferred that his big brother stay that way by sitting on him and playing his computer game. Scott at least had a remaining cushion under his head, but one foot had taken out a pot plant and the other was hanging over the back of the sofa. His brother really was too tall for lying on the seating arrangements, but he didn’t seem to care.

With a bit of luck he might fall asleep.

“Okay, let’s finish this. How did you get to work today?” Gordon grunted. “This form has no rockets, planes, submarines or space elevators on it.”

“Tick the ‘other’ box and let them work it out.” John let out a yawn.

Virgil eyed him.

John screwed up his face and poked out his tongue.

Wha-“ Virgil blinked.

“Hey, Virg, how many hours did you work last week?”

That distracted him enough to turn to Gordon. “How the hell do I know?”

“You worked them. I bet you know your flight hours.”

“Today’s. Not last week. That was last week.”

“Eos, send Gordon last week’s record?”

The AI chimed in at her father’s request. “Yes, John.”

Another document appeared in front of Gordon. “Wow, that much? Really?”

“The documentation is correct as recorded.” Eos sounded a little miffed. But then she never particularly liked Gordon on the best of days.

His fault, of course.

“Virg, you win, but only by a bit over Scott and that was because he twisted his ankle on Monday.”

“Sprained, you mean.”

“Twisted.” It came from the couch and was strangled by a little brother.

“Sprained. He should have been off for several days, but he’s an idiot.”

“You can’t talk, Mr Bruised-not-cracked.”

“At least I’m not Cracked-not-broken.”

“Sure.”

Scott might have said more but Alan whacked him with a pillow. “You guys are idiots. Gords, John and I are lucky our grey hairs don’t show.” Alan growled. “I’m sixteen, for crying out loud, and I know more about hospitals than I ever wanted to. Look after yourselves, you morons.”

Silence hit the room again.

“Way to go, Allie. You tell ‘em.” Gordon’s words were honest.

Of course, Scott was devastated and immediately questioning all his life choices. Virgil wasn’t far behind, but Scott, in particular had a sensitive spot where Alan was concerned.

“Hey.” He reached out a hand and rested it on their little brother’s arm. “Talk to me, Allie.”

Alan growled again. “I’m fine as long as you two look after yourselves. We kinda need you, you know.”

Scott grabbed his little brother and dragged him down into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

Virgil sat with his boot in his lap needing to grab both his brothers but not wanting to interrupt their moment.

He shouldn’t have worried. A second later Gordon jumped over the back of the couch, landed beside him and grabbed him, dragging him sideways into an oomph of a hug. “Don’t worry, my dear wingman, we still love you even if you are an idiot.”

“Gordon…”

“Admit it, you want a hug.”

“Shut up.”

Gordon didn’t say anything further, but he did squeeze tighter.

“When you get to the questions on whether any of us looked after children, Gordon, tick yes for all of us.” John’s tone was as dry as a desert.

“Will do.” Gordon grinned at him.

Scott actually fell asleep after that. It was about time. Apparently, Alan made a great teddy bear.

Alan grumbled about that for days, but Virgil knew his little brother treasured his relationship with Scott and the fact he fell asleep as well was rather telling.

But that fact pretty much ended the census form filling for that night.

The next morning saw all of them out on an earthquake and it wasn’t until two days later that Gordon realised they hadn’t submitted the form.

Grabbing Scott and Virgil, he ran them through the last of the questions, landing on the definitions of their dwelling.

“How many registered motor vehicles do we have at this dwelling?”

“Er, none? We have no roads.” Virgil frowned at the obvious answer.

“Three rockets, two planes and a submarine don’t count?”

An arched eyebrow. “Does it say anything about planes? Tracy Two and Three are registered in Aotearoa.”

“Aotearoa is not the United States.”

“But they are still registered.”

Scott sighed. “Read the form properly, guys. It says exclude heavy vehicles.”

“Well, that strikes Virg off the list, but your ‘bird’s a pansy.”

That earned Gordon a mocking whack up the back of the head.

“Gords, just write zero. The intent is there.”

“Fine. We have no motor vehicles. Stupid form.” A sigh. “Okay, how many bedrooms do we have?”

Scott answered that one. “Ten.”

“I thought it was twelve.”

“One went to an art studio and the other to a music recording room.”

Gordon glared at Virgil. “Way to take over the house, bro.”

“And how many fish tanks do you have in how many rooms? Not to mention the chunk of vegetable garden we had to sacrifice for Rover’s pond?”

“Leave Rover out of this. That wasn’t his fault.”

Virgil snorted. “Not his.”

“Shut up.”

Scott sighed again. “We have ten bedrooms.” He scanned the rest of the form, which thankfully wasn’t very long. “We own the place outright, and yes, they can archive our information for our grandkids to access. Tick the boxes and get this sent so I can go get some lunch.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Scott growled but Gordon ignored him.

Boxes all ticked, he hit the submit button.

“This form has already been submitted. You may not submit it again.” Underneath was the date of the day before census night. “What the hell? How could we open it if - ” Scott hit his comms. “John!”

John’s hologram flickered up beside the misbehaving census form. “I’m between a hurricane in Bermuda and an avalanche in the Pyrenees. How may I help you?”

“What?!”

“Oh, the census form. Eos submitted that three days ago.” Their space brother was distracted a moment out of pick up range as Scott’s jaw dropped. “Needed to get it done before Gordon got his hands on it. Besides, we can’t guarantee we wouldn’t have been called out anyway, so I got it done beforehand.”

“Then why the hell were we going through the damned thing on census night?”

John blinked. “You had fun, didn’t you? We shared an evening together.”

Virgil joined both his brothers at staring at John.

The astronaut just smirked back at them. “You did a great job, Gordon. Thanks.” The smirk turned into a grin. “Thunderbird Five out.” His hologram disappeared.

Scott’s face curdled. “I’m going to kill him.”

Virgil let his shoulders drop and sighed. “You said that last time he did something like this, and he’s still kicking.”

“I’m soaking his underwear in saltwater.” Gordon had that fire in his eyes that usually preceded a Tracy Island Armageddon.

“Gords…”

“He played me, Virg. He knew what I would do and played me. He thinks I’m predictable!”

“Yeah, but he obviously did it for the right reasons.”

Virgil found himself the target of two glares. “What? You want a group hug or something? C’mere.” And he grabbed the both of them, wrapping his arms around them. “Happy Census Night.”

The grumbling was worth it.

-o-o-o-

[didon]

Rashta, Navier and the true villain of The Remarried Empress

Listen, I don’t like Rashta. I don’t think I really need to explain why as most people clearly don’t. I think that she’s using very underhanded techniques to get what she needs and more. Because we all need safety and she comes from a place and status where she clearly need reassurance and that’s understandable. I find her annoying though because of the way she act and how she manipulate people. That’s my opinion. Navier clearly isn’t the only one she has hurt though so we can maybe stop using a sexist term like “Mary Sue” to describe her. The same way we need to watch our language about Rashta.

Now, I do believe that most of the hate should go on the Emperor even though it won’t because fandom is always more willing to hate on a “handsome” man rather than on any woman no matter how beautiful they are. Especially if they uses that beauty like Rashta does which was very common and still is. Not only is he the one truly being an ass to his wife, but he could have easily had people teach Rashta how to behave from the get go. Instead, he enjoys her ignorance because it satisfy his idea that he is this great person that everybody would love if they met. He cannot understand why Navier hasn’t fallen for him, despite not loving her himself, and need someone to reassure him that he is the gift to humanity he was probably told he was a thousand times growing up. He’s the true villain because he hurts both of the women, uses them to get what he wants, etc. For those that have read to the right part, let’s remember what is divorce plan actually is and how ridiculous it is.

I don’t think though that people should blame Navier for being “cold” (not that I’m seeing it here but still). She’s a young woman who was raised with an immense amount of pressure on her and she was probably taught that every single one of her actions have consequences. They actually do because whoever she talks to can be seen as favored and therefore will probably boast about it. The clothes she wear have an influence, her hair, etc. She can’t even unburden herself on anybody because that would be seen as weakness and as the Emperess she’s not allowed to have any. She has “everything” but not really because she is alone and not allowed to truly want or need for anything. Heck, people would probably talk if she were to express anything because how dare she need/want for anything, her who already has everything. She’s not even allowed friends that don’t work for her per her husband driving them away. She’s a bird that’s locked in a cage at all time and yet isn’t allowed to sing because it would make the free birds outside cry. She didn’t choose her life either, she was forced into it by her family.

That wasn’t my point while starting this though. I wanted to ask since when did slavery = bad become a hot take? I get that this is fiction, etc. but what is fiction but a reflection of our world and our values. Yes there are places were men can have multiple wives and mistresses and the women can’t say anything about it, but that’s not the case in South Korea. We’re also not talking about adultery. We’re talking about the very fact that somebody can “own” another’s life and impose their will and desire onto them. No matter if it’s fantasy or anything like it, it’s never okay. I don’t know in which universe people live but seeing an abject crime against humanity done and go “but it’s fiction” isn’t a good reasoning. The same way pure racism isn’t okay because of “fiction” or abuse isn’t okay for the same reason. I get that Rashta isn’t the most pleasant character but still. Especially since we are told here that she might be paying for someone’s else crime. Imagine how ridiculous that is. Your ancestor stole a loaf of bread or flirted with the wrong woman and the leader of your country decided that generations after them must pay for them. I know we are told that only a true “horrible” crime result in slavery but that all depend on the leader and their view of what categorizes a horrible crime. For some historical leaders, being born was a crime. That’s not counting a mad leader deciding to make their enemies disappear by selling them into slavery. Does someone really deserve to be treated as less than human because they or their parents did not agree with the political leader?

Rashta is a victim of that and is a villain sure but at least we have actual reason for her doing what she does. She evolved from the naive and trustable person we met at first, but how can she not when she’s trust in a political world with no idea how to swim in it. She’s also very much aware that her origin make her less in everybody’s mind around her. Now, does everything she does is okay or the right course of action? Of course not it isn’t. She quickly loses her innocence and start playing the game just like everybody else but she doesn’t deserve hate for that. The same way she doesn’t deserve hate for trying to survive in a world of sharks. It’s not a question of not trusting the Emperor, which she is right to do by the way seeing how he’s treated his wife and how others are treated for doing less than she is, but a question of trying to come out of all of it with her head on her shoulders and enough to live on. Does she eventually get greedy? Maybe and in my actual opinion yes, but she didn’t start wanting to steal a husband and a kingdom from someone else. Men are constantly manipulating her and using her for their own wishes and she can’t turn toward any of the ladies either because she is very much aware of how precarious her situation is. Unlike Navier, she can’t rely on being raised for the role of mistress or even her losing her status causing a political problem. She’s a nobody being used by rich men as a plaything and trying to not come out as a loser. She might be going at it wrong, but she was never taught how to do it right and you have to remember all the men that are filling her with lies and mistrust. Because pretty much every single of her “schemes” have come from a man telling her a lie or giving her a bad advice.

What I think is very interesting in this webtoon is the duality of Rashta and Navier because in a way, they end up in similar situations. They are both women that have to survive court and nobles being faker than plastic while men are trying to use them for their own gains and who have nobody to truly be able to turn to. Eventually, Navier gains people like that, but the tragedy of Rashta is that she doesn’t. She might think she can trust some people, but none of the people around her truly have her best interest at heart. The best thing for her would have been for Navier to take her under her wing while Rashta refuses to be the Emperor’s mistress (I can never remember his name sorry). By having the very same position that grants her the “security” she so need and desire, Rashta put her best ally in an enemy position and that’s what’s going to be her downfall. She might be annoying and pushing it sometimes, but we know she will drown because she’s never been taught otherwise. That’s why the true villain will always have to be the Emperor because he’s not only the one who pitted the two women by taking one as a mistress while married to the other one, but he never took the time to truly help his mistress, expecting others and especially Navier to do so for him. He could have brought her back to the palace as a guest only and Navier would have probably taken Rashta under her wing like she does for many others, but by making her a rival to Navier, he destroyed any chances she had to be able to leave him and survive which I think was something he did deliberately. There’s no way he wouldn’t have known that this would be the actual ending. He wanted to keep Rashta bound to him until he was done with her otherwise he would have asked Navier to help set her up with housing and maybe even a job. Instead, he probably held her status and her gender against her and decided to use her beauty for himself.

The lesson of this story in my opinion isn’t that beautiful women shouldn’t be trusted or that you have to be pure of heart and your history a blank slate to be worthy or anything like that but instead a lesson for women on who to trust and that we are stronger together than separated. It’s also a very clear lesson on how appearances can be wrong and it asks us the reader to truly wonder what makes someone a villain. Does wanting to survive in a hostile world make you one? Does not wanting to let someone take what is yours and what you have worked for your entire life does? Or does wanting to use others for your advantage, control them and force them to need you make you a villain?

[dreaminpetals]

Oog the Andrew appreciation is making me feel fuzzy and warmmmmm! Could we get some skin specific headcannons for Andrew? Like how his train conductor or "cheese" skins would act?

🧀 skin specific hcs for andrew . . . 🚂

desolate sand ;;

♡ sandrew (hehe) is a lot braver and stronger than his other skins but also more exhausted and gloomy.

♡ a person with albinism being stuck under the relentless sun of the south is a recipe for disaster.

♡ he's seen outlaws do awful, awful things to people which has left him with a grim outlook on life.

♡ though he'll do all he can to protect innocents, especially women and children. he views it as his duty on this earth.

♡ speaks with a southern drawl.

♡ views his horse as his best friend and companion for life.

♡ while people turn their heads and refuse to serve him at some bars, his horse, named after his late mother, has always been there for him.

♡ despite how rough around the edges and unfriendly this andrew is, he's an angel towards his horse and spoils her rotten.

♡ if he had an s/o he wouldn't want them to be a shooter or freelancer like him, he'd prefer a friendly face he could come home to.

♡ andrew has dreamed of a domestic life for far too long but being viewed as a devil means he has to hunt for resources and live in tents all on his own, never staying in one town for too long because he gets chased out with torches and pitchforks. he doesn't have a home as much as he desperately craves one.

♡ a romance between you and him would be slow and sweet, you'd potentially go months without seeing each other but every time you reunited he could relax and get a taste of paradise.

♡ i feel like you would be a hotel owner that was willing to serve him so he associates you with warmth and safety, during nights when he had nothing to do but hitch his horse and stare at the stars he'd think of you and how much he wants you to be more than a stranger.

♡ overall he's a wanderer with a good heart that's been stomped on and lassoed far too many times, give him some rum, apple pie, and a bath full of delicate kisses and touches please his weary soul deserves it.

train conductor ;;

♡ traindrew fares surprisingly well in the bitter cold that his train conducting job entails, he's built up a tolerance since he's been freezing since birth.

♡ a feeling he experiences often is that realization that all of his passengers are unique people with their own places to go, he feels proud that he's helped so many people and hopes they can remember him in a positive light.

♡ he's treated surprisingly well by his passengers, weary travellers view him as a demon who's redeeming himself by reuniting people with their families and homes.

♡ of course 'surprisingly well' for andrew still has to include being dehumanized for his condition, poor guy.

♡ still, he loves his job. a speeding train is much more comfortable than a drab cemetery where evil men are laid to rest, the cheers and laughs he hears from nearby compartments remind him he's doing a good job.

♡ loves hot beverages like tea and hot cocoa, he almost always has a mug in his hands.

♡ when he sleeps he kicks his feet up on a table and tucks his hat over his eyes it's so cute.

♡ he's bitter and deals with jealousy quite a bit, he envies how easy other people live and prefers to be alone or with animals.

♡ even when the train is empty andrew still watches over it, cleaning it and making sure nobody breaks in.

♡ so if he had an s/o they would have met on the train.

♡ you were a rising singer who frequently travelled his train when touring, at first he expected you to be a sheltered snob who'd ask for a different helper but you were one of the nicest people he had ever met.

♡ during the evening you order two cups of coffee, one for you and one for andrew so he could take a break in your first class booth.

♡ andrew had a sneaking suspicion you were only being this nice so your future train tickets would be cheaper.

♡ oh yeah, andrew can be pretty pessimistic and judgemental. when people are nice to him he always has a lingering fear they're trying to gain his trust only to stab him in the back.

♡ he wholeheartedly believed that you weren't to be trusted until he overheard you practicing for your new single.

♡ it was about falling in love with a gentle train conductor who had piercing red eyes and alluring white hair, ghostly pale skin cold to the touch that still managed you warm you up when your fingers accidentally brushed together.

♡ he's used to being a stoic professional so when he realized he was catching feelings he nearly fell overboard.

♡ andrew is so hardworking and curious about the world outside his train and he was so overjoyed to entertain the idea of a singer who travelled the world possibly.... showing him everything he was missing... djfndks he couldn't handle it!!!

cheese ;;

♡ while the other andrews are more closed off and sort of bitter with how the world treats them, cheesedrew wears his heart on his sleeve and never loses hope for other human beings. he thinks there's good in everybody !!

♡ instead of digging graves he grew up scooping ice cream, he's lived a happy life and no one can tell me otherwise 🥺

♡ still anxious and insecure though... he naturally struggles with anxiety and fitting in with others, the cruelty he faces for his condition doesn't make life any easier for him. but he is a ray of sunshine once you show that you're harmless, i promise.

♡ he gives people everything even if they don't care about him at all.

♡ still, no matter how many times he's kicked down, he gets back up and he's ready to prove everyone wrong, people can be good no matter what happens to them.

♡ cries super easily, this includes tears of joy (which happen any time someone is affectionate towards him)

♡ obviously he has a sweet tooth, he shivers so much and appears to always be hungry.

♡ give this boy a home cooked meal, he hasn't had meat or vegetables in so long.

♡ his poor diet combined with albinism leads to fits of dizziness and even fainting, if you let him lean on you he'll never forget it!!!

♡ this andrew is like a puppy, if someone is nice to him then he takes their words at face value and trusts them with his life.

♡ don't be surprised if he follows you around or stares at your hands thinking about how soft they'd feel in his larger ones, anyone can tell what he's thinking by looking at his facial expressions.

♡ he's the sweetest lover djfjsks

♡ compares you to honey, candy, sugar, everything sweet in the world, he can't get enough of you.

♡ let him show you how to bake!!!! please!!! he loves teaching people things and doing things that will make people remember him in a positive light, wanting a warm place in someone's memories is a universal andrew experience.

♡ he tries to hide his giggles because he doesn't like how they sound but they're so contagious.

♡ once you reassure andrew he doesn't have to hide himself around you and you love all his quirks he'll melt into batter when he's around you.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

warning: suicidal thoughts

An anon sent me an ask but the content might be unsettling / triggering to some of you, so I wanted to put it under keep reading and you can choose for yourself if you want to read it or not.

Remember, I'm not a doctor. I probably need therapy way more than you (you're reading the smut, I'm writing it XD).

I'm just a person. But there was a time, long ago, when I wanted to scream into the abyss and I really wished the abyss could scream back.

It never did.

But this time is different, because this time someone chose me as their abyss and I'm choosing to scream back.

from anon:

What you write hits me so hard. The use of mental health is amazing and it makes me feel better to know someone else goes through this...but I wanna scream. I'm so alone. I don't want these thoughts anymore but its a weight I've had on me for weeks and I've nobody to talk to. Literally, no one. My friends have school in the morning, my parents don't want me to go downstairs. I'm in bed and I don't like this anymore.

I'm not expecting you to answer this post especially as its an anon one and you cannot privately answer because then it will have to be public and thats just an odd thing to have on your page but jesus... I needed to rant. I don't even know you and you don't know me.

But it hurts.

Everything fucking hurts and I don't wanna put up with it anymore. I will try my hardest not to end everything but its so fucking hard. I don't even know if I'm strong enough anymore.

I'll try not to.

I don't need to burden a stranger with my death....heh...

Sorry, I'll stop this stupid thing now.

Idk if I should even send this. Oh well...Imma do it anyway.

Also I hope you have an amazing day. You are a great human. :) Be Happy ~

Ah, where to begin.

All of my works have a part of me in them. There are bits and pieces of my story, my thoughts, my feelings, mixed with fiction. Even if you collected them all, you wouldn't know everything about me. I have avoided certain parts, deliberately been vague, chopped up and rewrote things.

You didn't come here for me. You came to read BTS smut (yeah, I see you, you ain't sneaky about it). You came to imagine choking on Jeon Jungkook's dick or getting fucked by Min Yoongi (or literally any other member; I'm just listing the two I write about most lol).

But I'm the writer.

And I can't help but put part of me in everything I write.

I know this feeling, the loneliness you speak of, even if you think I don't.

I don't know what it's like for you, but for me, it was always this way. Ever since I could remember, being surrounded by people and still feeling utterly alone was there. My childhood? Kinda shitty. The details don't matter - what matters is that the only solace I had was reading books. I read so fucking much when I was a kid, because I could not stand the loneliness that seemed eternal. I felt pain and I didn't know if it was because someone inflicted it upon me or if it was because I was doing it to myself, thinking that was what I deserved.

So I read.

And I started writing myself.

For me, this is solace. This is the place I can be anyone, anything, and I can create a world that is all mine. It is still lonely. Maybe even pathetic. Think about it, I'm literally writing porn about dudes in South Korea who don't know I exist and pretending they care about me (I'm aware that they don't). If they knew, at the very least they would be disappointed in me. Disgusted, or worse.

I've accepted I'm not a very good person.

But I also think that, maybe, just maybe, someone out there reading my stuff takes a pause and forgets about their worries, their fears, their sadness, and they feel 1% better. Maybe. I don't know. I'm not you. Maybe someone out there reads my stuff and they fall asleep dreaming about fucking BTS instead of being awake all night thinking about their pain.

Therapy? Mmm, a big stretch.

But it's something.

I'm not trying to save the world one BTS smut story at a time (LMAO what if that was my tagline tho). I'm just trying to work through my mind, my pain, and I'm posting it here. Maybe it helps you. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe you're only here to learn how to suck dick (I do write a lot of blowjob scenes, but honestly, it's practice XD).

The number of times I have typed and wanted to say something about myself to you, my readers, and then deleted it because I think, "nobody cares about you, they just care that you write porn."

It is reflected in this part of head+heart

“They’re taking so much from you... You keep giving. That’s dangerous. Their selfishness will hurt you. They’re think of you less and less as a person and more and more like a factory. They’ll treat you like a thing they’re entitled to and not like a human being with feelings.”

I'm not saying that's all of you. In fact, if you've read this far, it's definitely not you. But it exists. Not just me, but for BTS too. Anybody who is a creative goes through this feeling.

I am going to do what I continue to do. I won't pressure you into reading. I won't tell you how to live your life. I won't give you meaningless advice that you can't listen to right now because you're visiting the dark place and even good advice can get twisted there, morphed into something it's not because your mind is tricking you.

Life is cruel. Unfair things happen. You can't control it.

There are many paths in life. Everyone has good and bad in them. "Who said people are animals of wisdom? / For me, obviously, we are animals of regret." And yet. "There is nothing permanent in the world. / Everything is just a happening passing through." Happiness is not forever, but neither is pain. The you of right now is not permanent.

Living just to chase a perfect life will leave you unfulfilled. Living for the sake of living is harder. It seems meaningless. Happiness is so fleeting when pain is so crushing. Living to get hurt, living just to float along, living to constantly have to decide what is good and what is bad, only to figure out that the only person who can determine those things is you, because this is your life.

The only person who can live your life is you. You are the only person who can see your tomorrow. So, I ask you.

What if you live like that?

:)

[papirouge]

As time goes on, I'm having a harder time giving a shit about Ukriane. With the way they treated African and South Asians in their country you know they wouldn't give a flying f*ck if there was a country in Africa invaded, but all of us are supposed to pity them?

Controversial take but tbh I'm not shocked to see White Europeans prioritizing themselves and being more kin to welcome fellow European refugees more similar culturally, than MENA (=Middle East & North Africa) MEN who have to be taught to not sexually harrass/rape women lmao. I'm not even White, I do hope we wouldn't import such people here, IDC

Especially when they are MEN coming from countries which aren't wartorn/invaded (such as those of the Maghreb) or should have stayed to fight (yeah I'm team gender roles lol) and only come there thinking they're entitled to get shit because they're "refugee". Not every illegal immigrant is a "refugee". And European countries are right to pay them dust when there are actual refugees (whether they're from Europe or elsewhere) who truly need to be helped.

I don't have much issue with women and children though.

While there's definitely some kind of bias between Western and Eastern European (slavic people have historically been considered as inferior to Western men, and even today, many Eastern men living in Europe to work mostly on construction sites cause they're cheaper are looked down as alcoholic, aggressive and ratchet lol) both civilizations will always are much more in common than with middle eastern ones.

But yeah I'm not delusional and know eastern countries is racist lol They have that weird allegiance to Nazi regime bc it helped them fighting against Russia domination back to the WWII. That's why Ukraine has a whole Nazi regiment in its army+ various militia the Ukrainian government doesn't bother to dismantle. Fascinating how the liberals who were hysterically labelling anyone remotely conservative a "Nazi" 3 years ago are conveniently glossing over it 🙃

"b-but the US army has Nazi their army too!!" yeah and everyone with common senses hates the US troops, that's for a reason ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I'm #teamnobody at this point. Everyone with a brain should know to not mess with hot-blooded slavic men. They don't play.

Hopefully African and Asian students are safe too. It's a shame they got themselves in the middle of this mess, and eventually got treated like trash

I want everyone in Ukraine to be safe. I want everyone in Russia to be safe. I totally understand how frustrating to see racist people act, but don't let evil people cloud your compassion. These racist Ukrainians still don't deserve to be bombed. And not every Ukrainian victim of this war has been oppressing these foreign students.

This russophobia is getting out of hand and is really retarded. Deadass banning Russian people to enter contests, going places, and even Russian medias have been censored in the EU and literally nobody is talking about it. That's unacceptable.

If the common Russian should be punished for the messy antics of their government, so should every American for allowing their demonic country to commit the biggest crimes against humanity in many places around the world. Americans boasting their hatred against Russia should rather be quiet. Their audacity is astounding.

Poutine is no angel but he's entitled to defend his lane. Ultimately NATO is responsible for all this mess and breaking its promises made to Russia decades ago. Ukraine is just the battlefield of much bigger issues.

🇷🇺🇨🇳🇮🇳 VS 🇪🇺🇺🇲🇦🇺

Gear up for World War III.

[tendertenebrosity]

Part 6 of Illiam and Helis’ story. Masterpost is here. 

This piece carries on directly from the last one ; they really should be read together. Enjoy!

Taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @doglover82; @top-hat-aye; @burtlederp; @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi   @thesleepysnapdragon

Illiam’s breath puffed into mist as he climbed the stairs, feet unerring on the familiar steps in the darkness.

When the weather allowed it, you could see for a long way from de Graer castle’s outer walls - craggy hills straggling into the distance, patchworked with farmland and the spreading darkness of forest, along with the huddled roofs and rising threads of smoke of the nearest town. All of it laid out in the moonlight like a rumpled quilt in dark gray and silver.

But Illiam didn’t head in that direction. He turned instead to walk the inner walls.

The air was chill against the exposed skin of his face and hands. It was late; so late that it would soon be early. The only people other than Illiam up at this hour were the guards, stationed silent and still along the walls. They knew better than to disturb Illiam, so he strode past them unacknowledged.

He slowed to a stop once he was no longer in view of any of the soldiers, to look over the inner side of the wall and down into the castle ward. A few smoky torches were lit. Illiam knew that, with his father’s return, it would have been like a kicked ants’ nest this afternoon, bustling with the activity of soldiers returning, supplies and equipment being unloaded, horses led to stables, wounded being treated and nobility ordering everybody around.

But that had been hours ago. Now the place was silent, and empty.

Or almost empty.

Outside the soldier’s barracks, up against a scarred wooden wall, a figure was standing. No, not standing - hanging from his wrists, the chains looped over an iron spike too high for his feet to reach the ground. The head hung down, chin against chest so that Illiam couldn’t see the face, only curly hair matted with blood. The green and grey of the Crestmead uniform was stained a dull, ugly brown with more blood - as were the hands that curled uselessly above the shackles, and the bare feet that hung against the wall.

Illiam propped one elbow up on the wooden barrier that stood between him and the twenty-foot drop down into the ward. Helis’ companion, the Southerner academic. What had they called him? Reed.

He was still alive - the figure’s breathing was laboured, so much that Illiam could easily see his chest heaving from here. He wasn’t sure if the man might be crying, or struggling to breathe past internal injuries, or if it was just that difficult to get air in that position.

Illiam stood there, leaning against the wall even though the wind up here snatched away warmth through his clothing, drummed his fingers on the wood, and watched the prisoner struggling for breath. He had seen scenes like this before. Not closely, but more often than he would have preferred.

Often enough to know how this would go. Oh, their story made perfect sense; a lot more sense than Crestmead choosing to send the most useless spies imaginable to Rosdan because they had somehow caught wind of his father’s invasion plans. It was just extremely bad luck that they’d been there at that time.

Reed from Crestmead was exactly what he and Helis said he was - Illiam could see that. His father probably saw it by now, too. But it didn’t matter. Reed would probably live until morning, be questioned again, continue giving his father’s men nothing because there was nothing to give, and eventually once they were satisfied with that he’d die.

It might be a while.

There had been no need to tell Helis that, he told himself, absently picking at a fleck of blood under one nail. They were a soft, fragile creature of the South, where those in power weren’t allowed to do such things -  Illiam suspected this past few days had already exposed them to more violence than they’d ever seen in their cosseted little life. It would be cruelty with no purpose to tell them about the scene in front of Illiam.

They weren’t hardened to such things. Like Illiam was.

Illiam let his head drop into his hands, trying to breathe slowly and deliberately. His work finished and Helis taken away to his quarters, Illiam should have retired to bed himself. Heaven knew, he was tired enough. And there was so much to do tomorrow.

He doubted Helis was going to speed anything up - quite the opposite, they’d already cost him a day’s work, and it wouldn’t be the last.    

Illiam also doubted his father had bought any of his arguments about wanting an assistant. It was a thin justification - Illiam had always worked alone, had achieved his greatest successes alone, didn’t even really know how he would go about integrating another person into his process. But it had been the only thing that he could think of.

Hard to say what the Duke thought Illiam’s reasons were for wanting Helis; but he had not been impressed. Illiam had lost some of his father’s respect. Doubtless he thought Illiam was giving free rein to some stupid, petty, emotional impulse.

And is he wrong? Illiam asked himself sarcastically. He curled his hands into fists against his temples. What on earth and heaven possessed you? There must have been a subtler way, a smarter way, you could have gone about this, but no! You couldn’t take five minutes to think this through! No, of course not, you had to act on the first harebrained idea that jumped into your head. And now you have a backlog of work, another reason for Father to doubt you, an assistant who hates you, and another damn responsibility!

The whole situation was ridiculous and Illiam fully deserved his father’s contempt. Illiam hadn’t thought about his classmates from the Academy of Magic in months. And why should he have? It had been years ago, and it wasn’t as if he’d left anybody heartbroken by his departure. Quite the opposite - they had all despised him, every last one of his Southern classmates, and the feeling was mutual. He’d left them behind long ago and they didn’t matter.

They saw me as an enemy from the beginning. No matter the diplomacy, the pretty lies and the wishful thinking, my classmates never trusted me. And they were quite wise in that, weren’t they? All he’d ever wanted or needed from that place was knowledge. Why should he care what happened to any of them?

If it had been literally anybody else, he told himself savagely, if it had been Joss or Remy or Diamand or anybody else from that class, he wouldn’t have done it. Maybe when he’d heard the familiar voice he’d have wandered over to see if it really was them, but he wouldn’t have lifted a finger to stop what was happening. 

But it hadn’t been Joss or Remy. It had been Helis. Placid little Helis, with their soft brown eyes and dainty white wings. The least military person Illiam could think of. The last person he would have expected to see. What the hell were they doing in that forest? Crestmead shouldn’t have sent them, of all people, anywhere near Toralda. What had they been expecting?

Illiam sighed heavily and stood upright. He lifted his gaze to the sky; the view was spoiled a little by the torches in the ward that he’d been looking at, but the stars were still visible. That was what he’d come out here to find, wasn’t it?

He stared out across the dark and the cold, and tried unsuccessfully to calm himself down enough to go back inside and get some sleep. Standing up here in the wind ranting to himself about Crestmead Academy and his own stupidity wasn’t achieving anything. What was done was done, and he’d achieved all he could tonight. It should have been easy, to fill his thoughts with the calm of the stars and the snow and the silence. Usually, it was. He should go inside and to bed.

It was past midnight; aside from the silhouettes of guards against the night sky on the opposite wall, there was nobody in sight. The castle slept.

And down there in the ward, alone in the cold… the Southerner fought for each breath. Illiam’s gaze found him again, but he already knew he would still be there.  Still breathing raggedly, on and on, suffering with no purpose and no end in sight. Illiam knew he was there, and would continue to know it alone in his bedroom.

Illiam leaned forward, concentrating. His fingers fell still against the railing as he formed the shape of the spell in his mind’s eye. No need for anything more complicated, no hand gestures or sketched symbols.

The spell arced invisibly across the courtyard, and found its mark. The ragged figure hanging from the wall jerked, silently, unnoticed - and fell still. No longer moved by that awful, laboured, painful breathing.  

Illiam brushed away nonexistent dirt from his hands, let his lip curl in disgust, and turned away.

There. Never let it be said that Illiam de Graer’s a liar.

He’s an impetuous idiot and a sentimental fool. 

But he’s not a liar.

[hikarikaishi-blog]

Why Caleb did what he did in ep127 – my theory.

This is my theory it can be super wrong, maybe I am right at some points, I just want to put it out there, maybe some of  you will like it. Here we go:

Caleb is my fav character the whole campaign so far and what he did in that episode shocked me, it was so not like him. We did see him when cornered he would go rampage but was he cornered here? So I was shocked.

I was shocked he didnt discuss the problem that might come from this with the M9, they didnt talk about it might be a trap they just went for it. They didnt think twice and that was alarming for me and the second they interacted with the guards it all went south and Caleb ignored Astrids tip of being stealthy to avoid Trent. And in the end he did appear and I was like „that is what you get when you just go full rage and dont think a second about it and Caleb you were the thinker in this campaign why did you do all of that?! Next episode I want an explanation for this or I am out!“

Caleb knew what he was doing all the time, he knew if he would do all of this Trent would show up.

There is no way he did forget that because Astrid told him super clear that Trent isnt there so they should be STEALTHY.  But he didnt. He ignored the warnings and put Astrid in danger with that as well, a soon as Trent sees the maps he knows who helped and Astrid will be punished. He said he cares for her and puts her in this danger! It was all a lie? Astrid deserves so much better than this! Boo Caleb for treating a girl that was obviusly in pain so she cried because of you like that! I was at least a bit happy that Matt clearly said Trent did appear because of the rucus, not because of Astrid. She didnt sent Trent. She didnt do it.

Caleb ignoring Astrid and her advice and destroying the bit of Trust that was building up between them – shatterd. „Caleb thats so stupid why are you that stupid.“

I was all that. I was so disappointed.

I woke up next morning and was still disappointed and a bit angry that Caleb went this route with all the murder. He knew Trent will maybe show up and catch them while stealing his stuff and he did it anyway. It was like Caleb wanted Trent to show up. To show him how much he hates him and to show him what he is capable off. Because Trent knows that now because he sees the display of raw power he might want to get Caleb back under his thumb and make him work for him again. There is no way out of this situation for them, than to bargain with Trent and he imo will let them got when they will do him a favor later. Caleb must have known that and still did this.

He is just playing into Trents hand where everyone wanted him to escape from. Because Trent is so bad.

And I was: Wait a minute.

Let that sink in for a secong.

He is playing …

playing Trents game. Do you get where I am going with this?

What if all of this, the killing and blood everywhere, is an act made up by Caleb? What if he is playing Trents mind game back at him?

He is giving Trent a view on him like Trents want to think of Caleb: Powerful, full of hate against the Volstruker and Trents experiments, full on revenge and wants to kill him, Trent, but also is no match for him with getting so easily caught in the middle of his home. He has power but he isnt clever enough. What if Caleb wanted to get caught by Trent? Pretend he is not clever so Trent thinks he isnt clever and can be a puppet for him again?

While  pretendign being a puppet again, Caleb can get closer to him/the Assembly to learn more about him and his connections in the Assembly. To learn how to root out all the corruption in the assembly wich is his main goal this whole campaign! He wanted to learn about all that from Ves, we know that, but that didnt work out so he has to do it another way and now he doing it on his own.

He knows, he can not fight the Assembly heads up. He knows he has to get inside first and root out evil from within. He has to earn some trust to get the info he wants to have. He cannot trust anyone so he goes on his own and wants to plays Trents game and maybe be better this time and beat Trent. What better way to beat someone than in his own game right?

And do you remember who talked about beating someone at their own game? Do you? It was Astrid during the dance scene. She said „...either we walk into their trap or beat them in their own game.“

In that scene i thougt she was talking about the TT because she touched his spots with the red eyes a second before and it bothered me that she said „we“. Was she planning on going with them to Eiselcross? That wont happen anyway (she would need trents permission/it would be to obvious and Trent would not let them go so they can come up with a plan to kill him) this is stupid. So now I get she was talking about „we either beat Trent and whomever we are fighting here or we walk into their trap.“

So what I proclaim is: Astrid and Caleb in general know they are dancing the „can-i-trust-you-tango“ but they know they have one common enemy: Trent.

So they were discussing during the dance without saying it, if they want to work together in bringing him down. Caleb wasnt sure if he wants/can work on the „Trent-problem“. He has more importand stuff to do right now and he doesnt want to face all that stuff from the past that will come up during this working against Trent.

He cares for Astrid as he said. He isnt against helping her but maybe not right now.

What made him change his mind was Astrid crying in a spot where nobody would have seen her crying all on her own. He knows her, he know how much is to interpret in her crying. I think she is rarely crying. She has doen the same training as Caleb did, she is used to be cruel and to murder and be a bad human. But she wont cry because of that. She said so herself in their first meeting. Her crying is super special and Caleb gets that. And because he cares so much for her, maybe you can relate when you know a person you care for is crying in the mud. You want to help so they dont cry anymore. That is why he decides he wants to help her,/wants to start working on the problem now and not later. He knows she is using him, but he is using her as well. He doesnt care. He wants to help, to help her, help his country. He made this decision over night and Astrid gave him the time to think about it, but she needed a signal from Caleb. Ans anwer to her question if he wants to do this now or not. She said „I will see what I can do for you“ aka says „i want to work on this now, how about you?“

He sent a red firey bloody signal back. A signal as bright as the fire Warning beacons of Gondor

in „The return of the kings“ when Gondor sent signal to Rohan asking for help. The fun part is nobody gets it beside Matt and that is exactly the kidn of pranks the people on the table like to play. Remember Sam/Scanlan? I do. it was stuff he planned for weeks and nobody was expecting it and it was a big suprise for everyone.)

He could have been stealthy and just get the stuff he wanted during the heist. It would have send the signal to Astrid „thanks for the help, I cant work on this now. Maybe later. See you“.

But Caleb did not do that. He send a signal like: „I am full in, I want to play this game, starting it right now and either we win this game or loose and run into his trap. Lets do it.“

Its amazing how they comunicate without saying a single word about it.

The three different papers you ask? For me its the answer to his „for the love that we three shared I need to ask a favor“. She answeres with the box „Here is what i can do for you and yeah we three are in this together“ the paper are symbols for the three of them. The three people from Blumenthal. Its brialliant.

Why she is thankful in the message: Because he comes back and contacts her. He is her only hope.

Why she is sorry the day after: Because she thinks she is guilty to drag him into this. She knows this will be hard for him and will cause a lot of pain. That is why she says she is sorry.

(Is she for real? We dont know. They are still dancing the „can-i-trust-you-tango“)

They are playing Trents game of saying the truth and show whats obvious. Matt and Liam are playing this game so good they fool the other players and me and other fans. Its brilliant.

To let everyone think its a Trap set up by Astrid? - Its fine because people will focus on her (and its legit because she is shady and in this game as well) while Caleb is the one whom they should be worried about.

Let everyone think he does all the stuff he did here because of the Drama, Trauma and the pain etc – Yes it is exactly that to a percentage and that is the truth he is showing here, but underneath that is the other truth that he just wants to get closer to Trent. Caleb knows how he has to behave to get what he wants. He does it all the time because he learnid it from Trent! (remember the scene he wanted to work Essek as he needed him to work in that moment on the ship, because Caleb wanted the peace talk to happen? Because Caleb didnt want Essek to run away but to stay and get done what he Caleb wants?) He does not like those methods but he has to use them to get what he wants.

This is a brilliant plan from Caleb and Astrid and you know, they worked together before. They know each other so well when it comes to work (and probably more). They were a team for a long time and its like: watching a movie where old action heroes that worked together for a time suddenly have to work again. They just work together like they always did. Its like one comes visit the other one after 10 years of both of them living their lives, and they just look at each other and the person stands up goes to a shelf, gets his old gun out that was hidden there all the time and only asks: how is the weather? And the other says „its clear blue sky“ and they dotn talk anymore and just to their thing like in old times and know exactly what to do. Caleb and Astrid are Assassins in this but you know the dynamic is there.

Another way to put it:

With the dinner invitation trent put up a chess board. And invited Caleb to play. Caleb doesnt answer. Astrid asks him at the door in private: „you said you want to play this game last time you visited me. Do you still want to play? „He says „yes“ and she answers „race you to the top“ wich was clever. It seemed like she wanted to play the game herself, and that is again one half of the  truth here: she wants to play this game, but not on her own because she knows she cannot win this alone. She needs help and playful/tricky invites Caleb to play this together against Trent. Like she would say: „I want to play the game and I would want to know who is more clever/better here, you or me“. This is the dynamic I think they had as teens: always challenge each other who is more clever and gets the solution to a riddle first etc. but always playful never hating and i think that is how they connected in the beginning and fell in love at some point. We will see that maybe in the comic in summer.

During the dance she said: „You have to decide soon if you want to play this chessgame because Trent is a bit distracted anyway right now. Also time is of the essence. You have eyes on your back?“ this mental chessgame wont be a game that will finish soon, or in 2-5 episodes. It might go on for half a year because its a chess game where you have to think a lot and think a lot up in front. With the „i will help you with the necklaces“ she holds out the first pawn to Caleb, and with his rampage he takes it and sets it on the board and the game is on.

And its all covered up in half truth and some scheming but never blunt lies because that would be to easy to find out and could be the end of the game.

So Astrid and Caleb are workign together against Trent while behaving like nothing happend. She does her stuff, he does his.

They will meet sometimes because they both have the working connetction to Trent and who knows how this will end? Trent I think is aware that the game is on and I think he will play (move his figures in the next episode. With the maybe task they have to do for him so he lets them go.)

He set the board on the table in the first place.

Tldr:

Caleb wanted to face Trent. He was aware of what he did, he knew their actions did lead to Trent appearing. He wanted to seem to be the scholar that breaks into his old teachers house to get stuff so he can get closer to Trent again, to gather information from inside the assembly so he can take the system down from inside. Astrid might have gibt him the idea, and maybe there is some planing going on between Astrid and Caleb that we can’t see.

[angeltrapz]

for the “give me a character” meme! Eric, Adam, William, Mallick, Strahm, Rigg!!!!

YESS thank u!!!!

Eric:

How I feel about this character: That's my boy!!! <33

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Uuuu okay. Adam, obviously, but concerning the SAW polycule: Adam, Art, Lawrence, William, & Mallick!!

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Him & Rigg!!! That's his best friend!!! + he and Gibson in the Eric Lives AU!! (Gibson IS dating his best friend + recognizes that he's made the effort to change <3)

My unpopular opinion about this character: You Understand This but the idea that he's irredeemable/deserved to die is complete and utter bullshit. This post that you made perfectly describes my feelings on that!!

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: Firstly that he. Y'know. Didn't die. But I would have loved to see any of his interactions with Hoffman? Obviously they knew each other + I like to think they have since they were in academy together, so there's gotta be some sort of history there, y'know?? I feel like he definitely cared about Eric so I would've been very interested to see more regarding that relationship! + one more big one: I wish he knew/was at least made aware of the fact that Daniel was ALIVE and okay. It kills me thinking abt how this man died not knowing if his child made it out.

Adam:

How I feel about this character: I loooove him he deserved better. I relate pretty heavily to him.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Hehe. Lawrence obviously!! Chainshipping is a HUGE comfort ship for me. BUT! Regarding the SAW polycule: Lawrence, Eric, William, Gibson, & Mallick!! + when concerning that alternative canon continuity we've been talking abt, Strahm. But only in that circumstance lol,,

My non-romantic OTP for this character: MANDY!!! In any AU where she's either not a disciple or abandoned her apprenticeship, I firmly believe that he and Amanda would be best friends. Mean gay/lesbian solidarity siblings who would fight tooth and nail for each other + who get each other on a level that not many others can. Pamela also!! Along w Mandy I like to think they talk about their experiences being trans a lot + just bitching w each other lol.

My unpopular opinion about this character: IDK how unpopular this actually is but I 100% believe that Adam would never become a disciple in any capacity, ESP not of his own accord. I genuinely think he'd rather die. That's just not something I can see him doing in any circumstance.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: I wish someone had gotten him out of the bathroom :( And in an AU where he lives I hope someone tells him what a bastard Zep was!! No one made that dude hold a gun to Diana's head and listen to her heartbeat what the FUCK was that!!

William:

How I feel about this character: He's such a sweetheart I love him,, <33

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Lawrence & Adam <3 in the polycule though this includes Eric & Mallick!!

My non-romantic OTP for this character: He and Pamela obviously!! His sister is his best friend and they're there for each other 100%.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Much like Eric I don't think he deserved to die/that he's completely irredeemable... he fights so hard to save everyone and is utterly devastated when he can't. He's willing to hurt himself to save others (nearly dislocating his shoulders trying to keep both Addy and Allen, burning himself with the steam for Debbie, etc.) and it's like. John is always talking about how it can't be personal but it seems pretty fucking personal here!

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: The fact that nobody saw how hard he fought for his coworkers + the sacrifices he made for them upsets me to no end. That was intentional. John didn't want Tara + Brent (or Pamela for that matter!) to see him as human and that fucking bothers me!! So basically I just wish that they could've seen it via camera like literally almost every trap victim gets in some capacity!!

Mallick:

How I feel about this character: Yet another character I relate to wayyy too much <33 I love him...

All the people I ship romantically with this character: BRIT!!! + concerning the SAW polycule: Adam, Eric, William, & Lawrence!! (Art maybe too,,)

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I like to think he and Laura would've gotten along actually? I feel like that would be a good, healthy friendship. And I do like the idea of he and Brit like this too!! Other than that maybe Mandy? I feel like they could relate to each other a little bit, help each other when they're feeling brainweird,, (Mallick n Mandy: havers of Symptoms Disorder <3)

My unpopular opinion about this character: Again I don't know if it's unpopular, persay, but uh. I don't think the Mallick we meet in V would willingly sit and listen to Bobby Dagen in 3D. He'd hate that dude. My take on it is that Brit didn't survive V (although I think read somewhere that the crew confirmed she survived?) and that's why he was there: because he'd lost the one true connection he'd made in god knows how long. That's rlly the only way I see him sitting thru Dagen's bullshit lmao.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: I wanted him to see Brit again,, and I just wanted to see him more in general tbh, esp because he makes a reappearance where so many prior Jigsaw survivors do not. I would've liked to see him interact with Simone given that they both lost a limb/nearly a limb (in Mallick's case). This is related to that, but I also wish the evidence of the 10 Pints trap wasn't just. A tiny scar? I HC that it took his whole hand, so.

Strahm:

How I feel about this character: Ohhh my beloved. Why didn't they give you a better narrative it would've been SO interesting. I love you though <3

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Honestly? Still super fond of Gibson/Strahm in a scenario where things are different,, I've written quite a bit abt them and kinda want to again but if I do it'll probably be. Not for a while + VASTLY different. but recent additions have been Hoffman (I used to. not understand Stroffman whatsoever. now I Get It) and Adam!!

My non-romantic OTP for this character: PEREZ!!! I've always thought of them as best friends since I first saw IV, and I do think he genuinely cared about her - quite a lot, actually, esp given how devastated he was when she was injured. They hang out at each other's apartments all the time + get coffee regularly. I love them.

My unpopular opinion about this character: I don't think he's a dumbass?? I don't know if that's unpopular. I think that he's IMPULSIVE and that it gets him into trouble, but Strahm has always struck me as incredibly intelligent + has a good moral compass for the most part?? I mean, he figured out there was a second apprentice (second as far as he knows, anyway) helping with traps just by examining Kerry's crime scene. I think he's VERY smart. He just acts quickly + sometimes that means there's not much planning for if things go south. (I DO agree that showing up to the packing plant w/out backup was dumb though,, doesn't mean he DESERVED the Water Cube but y'know)

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: It's not really mentioned if he does in canon, but I wish he'd been made aware of the fact that Perez was alive,, it bothers me that he might've died not knowing she was okay. The other thing is that I wish he'd survived V!!! I think it would've been WAY more narratively satisfying for him to kinda follow in Tapp's footsteps as a vigilante Jigsaw hunter. (That's why I love yr takes on him so much!!)

Rigg:

How I feel about this character: He has such a big heart. He cares so so much. I wish ppl talked about him more :(

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Gibson!!! And uhh Hoffman, but they're exes,, but! In a scenario I'm kind of going over in my head, maaaybe Adam... the basics though is that he searches the Nerve Gas House independently and somehow finds the Bathroom following II, and He is the one to rescue Adam. Very tentative abt that one though bc I'm still working it out lol. (Possibly Eric/Adam/Rigg???)

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Eric!!! His best friend <3 I think he's also pretty close with Kerry, though I think he hangs out w her independent of Eric given,, the messy ex situation. I think he probably got along well with Fisk too!! OH and I think he and Sing would've been good friends as well. The chaos of a Rigg/Gibson/Sing friend trio...

My unpopular opinion about this character: Mmm I don't know that I have one? Other than maybe like. I understood why he went through the door. He knew Eric was on the other side; he just didn't know the circumstances or what would happen if he went through. All he knew was that he was that much closer to someone he's been trying to find/rescue for MONTHS + someone he cares for deeply. Of COURSE he went through. He breaks my heart ugh,,,

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: I wish he hadn't even been tested!!!! His one flaw was that he cared about ppl and somehow John saw that as something he needed to fix!!! Like yes I do agree that it was eating away at him and the obsession might've been unhealthy, but that's two of his closest friends dude!! I don't think he deserved to be tested for that. I don't. He just wanted to help ppl and keep them safe. I absolutely despise how Rigg was treated dkjflkdf!!!!