#anyway uh ... this week's episode fucked me up ...

[just-aro]

me: a loveless aro

me: introduced to the End Poem of minecraft for the first time literally this week

me: and the universe said i love you because you are love *starts sobbing*

[gilfrespecter]

I love the shower I love showering I love being clean.

IGNORE TAGS ITS BEEN FIXED

[tony-andonuts]

Hiiii i am back from work and am. Spiraling

[tootiecakes234]

Katsuki “asking” you to move in with him

You were almost back home when you got a call from your boyfriend. He didn’t even greet you when you answered.

“Where are you?”, he grunted into his phone.

“Well hello to you too handsome.”

“Yea, yea… where are you? I’m at your place to pick you up and ya ain’t here.”

“Heh… maybe if I knew you were coming over I would’ve been home. Why didn’t you text me and let me know. I don’t have any clothes packed or anything.”you informed him.

He does this all the time. Just comes over to your house and tells you that you’re coming back to his place with him. So very demanding.

“You have a dresser full of clothes in my room, your toothbrush and all your toiletries… what do ya need to pack?”

“Ya got me there. I’m almost there. I got stuff to drop off then we can leave.”

When you get through the door Katsuki is digging through your fridge.

“Why do you never have groceries in your house?” He questions you.

“Because I’m never here sir. They always go bad because I have a needy boyfriend that wants me at his house 25/8.”, the sarcasm drips out of your voice as you head to drop off the things you had bought.

“ Tch…. Needy. Please. You’re the one always complaining that we don’t spend enough time together.” He states.

“This is true.” You shrug your shoulders. “Anyways I’m ready. Let’s hit it.

“It’d be easier to spend time together if you just moved in with me” he mentions all causally as you guys head out to his car. You pause a little and look at him a little baffled.

You and Katsuki had been dating for about 8 months but you didn’t know he felt that seriously. Maybe he was just joking, so you shake it off and continue on like he didn’t say it.

The next thing you know you’re at his house getting ready for bed.

Kats comes to the bathroom and leans against the counter while you’re in the middle of doing your skincare.

“Do you wanna say something?” You ask because he’s just sitting there staring at you.

“Do you not wanna live with me cuz you could’ve just said that when I mentioned it earlier instead of fucking ignoring me.” He asked it harshly but you could hear the vulnerability in his voice. Like he didn’t want to bring it up but it was bugging him bad enough that he had to say something.

“I- uh…”

Apparently you were taking too long.

“Just forget it.” His eyes fell from yours and he started moving away towards his room. “Are we watching the next episode of that stupid show of yours? If not-“

“I didn’t think you were serious Kat.” And you reach your hand out to catch his arm before he can leave.

“I thought you were joking or something. Also it wasn’t a question so I didn’t know you were waiting on an answer babe.” There’s a small grin pulling at your lips when he looks at you again.

“Why the hell would I joke about that? And it was obviously a question…. So answer it dammit.”, his brows were furrowed and he was scowling a little.

Poor nervous boy.

You reach both of your arms up and wrap them around his neck. Then you lean in and press a kiss to his pouting lips.

“Katsuki Bakugo *kiss* I would absolutely *kiss* love *kiss* to move in with you *kiss*”

His arms have wrapped around you waist pulling you tighter to him.

“About damn time. I’ll have people come over to pack your shit tomorrow.” And this time he leans in to give his a deep kiss. His tongue reaching out to invade your mouth.

When he pulls back you’re all twinkle eyed and dopey in love. It takes a second for reality to catch up to you.

“Tomorrow?? Kats I have a lease and I don’t want movers breaking and throwing my things around. I’m gonna need at least a week or two. And I’m gonna have to pay-“

“I’ll pay for the lease break and you have til this weekend. If ya don’t want movers I’ll get our shitty friends to come over and help. Ain’t waiting no two weeks.”

“This weekend? It’s Wednesday. That only gives me 2 days!” You reason.

“Yea and I don’t wanna give you that so count your blessings princess. And I’m done arguing about this.” He sweeps you up bridal style and carries you to bed. Then He dumps you down onto it.

“Now how about we start christening your new place,” he says while hovering over you with a sexy smirk playing at his lips.

Hmmmm….. and just like that you forgot why it was you weren’t moving in tomorrow. He could be so very convincing when he wanted to be.

Katsuki Masterlist

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Phantom Traveler | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, namecalling, typical Dean and reader

Word Count: 8289

A/N: Hi guys. I've been overwhelmed with love these past few weeks. Just wanted to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading. You guys are fucking awesome; I'm so grateful. I hope y'all enjoy this week's episode! Asks/requests/taglists are open!!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You were sound asleep, curled up into yourself when a knock on the door brought you out of your slumber. 

“(Y/N)?”

‘Sam.’

“I got coffee, thought you could use some,” he called through the door.

You pushed yourself up out of the bed as you yawned, and walked over to the door of your motel room to open it for Sam. 

“Dude, you realize it’s six in the morning, right?” You scratched your head as you let Sam into the room.

“You sound like my brother.”

You playfully glared at him. “Don’t compare me to him.”

“Here.” He handed you a coffee and a bag of what you assumed was a pastry.

“Thanks,” you replied, sitting on your bed with your stuff in hand. 

Sam sat on the chair across from you. “Still haven’t warmed up to Dean, huh?” 

“Well, he hasn’t exactly warmed up to me,” you reminded him, thinking of the fight you got into yesterday over his reckless driving.

“Guess that’s true,” he conceded. “It’s weird, though, you guys are so much more alike than you let on.”

“Tell that to him. He started it.” You took a big bite of your pastry.

“Seriously?” Sam laughed, “ ‘He started it’?”

You shrugged, smirking. 

He seemed to remember his original intention behind disturbing your slumber. “Hey, he found a case, though.” 

“Oh, yeah? What’s up?” You licked the pastry cream off your thumb.

“We don’t know. The guy on the phone didn’t say.” Sam raised his coffee cup to his lips.

“Guy on the phone?” You took a sip of your coffee as you let Sam answer.

“Yeah. Some guy my dad and Dean worked a case for a while back’s got another one for us. He called Dean.”

“Ah—” you nodded, “—gotcha. So, where’s he live?”

“Pennsylvania,” Sam responded. 

“Okay, not too far,” you noted. “I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

***

“Thanks for making the trip so quick,” a short older man named Jerry told you and the boys. “I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out.”

You were walking beside Sam as you followed behind the man who was having you do this job. You were being led through a warehouse past planes as well as their parts and people hard at work.

“Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?” Sam asked the older man.

Someone walking in front of your group was eavesdropping on you. “Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie.”

“Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking,” Jerry stated authoritatively to the man. He turned his attention back to the conversation. “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart.” He addressed Dean. “Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?” He’d turned to Sam.

“Yeah, I was. I'm— taking some time off,” Sam explained.

“Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.”

“He did?” Knowing what you knew about Sam’s relationship with his dad, you found this surprising, too.

“Yeah, you bet he did,” Jerry nodded. “Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?”

“He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now,” Dean lied. 

“Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam and— what’s your name again?” he asked you.

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N). Even trade, huh?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that,” you laughed.

“Say, (Y/N), how’d you get wrapped up with these two?” Jerry asked.

“Oh, uh—” you began, searching for an abridged version of the truth, “—I met them on a hunt in California. They decided to drag me along with them.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. The guys are gonna need backup with this one,” Jerry said. 

“Why?” 

He did not give a direct answer to your question. “I got something I want you guys to hear.”

He led you to his office where you and Sam took the two chairs and Dean stood behind his brother.

”I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley,” Jerry stated, putting a CD into a drive. “Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

A frantic voice immediately rang out from the speaker as soon as the recording started. “Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britannia 2485—” the recording cut out with a static sound, “—immediate instruction help! United Britannia 2485, I copy your message—” and cut out again, “—May be experiencing some mechanical failure—” and then cut out one last time. The man’s voice was completely drowned out by static, whooshing, and growling sounds.

“Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south,” Jerry continued. “Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh… well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.”

“You don't think it was?” Sam questioned him.

“No, I don't.”

“Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors,” Sam listed.

“Alright,” the man replied.

“And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?” Dean inquired.

“The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage… guys— and gal— the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance.” Jerry shook his head.

You frowned.

“No problem,” Dean declared.

You gave him a questioning look to which he shrugged off.

***

“How fucking long does it take to make a fake ID?” you groaned, falling back across the backseat of the Impala. You and Sam had found a way to isolate the EVP on Sam’s computer, having gotten a copy of the tape from Jerry.

“I don’t know,” Sam responded. “But I’m gonna lose it if it’s much longer.”

“Same here.” At that moment, Dean walked out of the Copy Jack the Impala was sitting in front of as a pretty woman walked into the store. They greeted each other before Dean walked over to you and his brother.

“Dude,” you started, “You’ve been in there forever.”

“Wah-wah,” he whined, mocking you. “You can’t rush perfection.” He held up three IDs.

“Homeland Security?” Sam questioned as he took one of the IDs. “That's pretty illegal, even for us.”

“Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times,” Dean pointed out as he got into the car.

“Alright, so, what do you got?” Dean asked his brother as he flicked your ID back at you. It hit you square in the side of the head. 

“Dude, really?” you hissed, aggravation clear in your tone.

“Shh,” the older Winchester hushed you as he waited for Sam to answer.

“Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder,” Sam explained.

“Yeah?”

“Listen.”

The isolated voice of what you were dealing with came through the recording scratchy and backed by demonic growling sounds. “No survivors!”

“ ’No survivors’?” Dean asked. “What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.”

You shrugged.

Dean let out a sigh. “So, what are we thinking? A haunted flight?” 

“There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers,” Sam began.

Dean hummed in affirmation. “Or remember flight 401?”

“Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights.”

“I don’t know, guys,” you stated skeptically. “Ghost just doesn’t feel right.”

“Well, thanks for your optimism, sunshine,” Dean quipped.

“It’s not about optimism, you asshole, it’s about being right and dealing with whatever we’re up against properly,” you pushed back.

“Know-it-all,” the older Winchester replied. 

“Fuck off, Winchester.”

He let out a breath and turned his attention back to the case.“Alright, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?”

"Third on the list: Max Jaffey,” you said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, but why him?”

You glared at Dean. “Because if anybody saw something weird, he did. I talked to his mom while you were spending forever in the store. She said some pretty weird shit and told me where to find him. He was so screwed up, he checked himself into the hospital.”

***

You and the Winchesters walked beside Max Jaffey, who hobbled on a cane, through the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital’s garden. 

“I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security,” Max told your trio.

“Right. Some new information has come up,” Dean lied. “So if you could just answer a couple questions...”

“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything… unusual?” Sam questioned.

Max looked confused. “Like what?”

“Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices,” Dean offered. 

“No, nothing.”

Seeing as no one was getting anywhere with this investigation, you tried your hand at it. “Mr. Jaffey, you checked yourself in here, right?”

He nodded at you.

“Why?”

“Uh, I was a little stressed,” he said sarcastically. “I survived a plane crash.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded. “And that’s what scared you? That’s what screwed you up so badly?”

You could tell you were close to the answers you were after as he swallowed uncomfortably. “I— I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“I know, but I also know you saw something up there,” you continued. “We need to know what.”

“No.” Max shook his head. “No, I was… delusional. Seeing things.”

“He was seeing things,” Dean half-mocked him.

You shot a warning glance at Dean, hoping to get him to shut up. 

“It's okay,” you coaxed. “Just tell us what you thought you saw, please.”

“There was… this—man. And, uh, he had these… eyes—these, uh, black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him...” he trailed off, stopping as he recounted the events.

“What?” Dean asked.

“He opened the emergency exit,” Max explained. “But that's— that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door.”

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, clearly confused. 

“This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?” Sam asked.

Max quirked his head at the younger Winchester. “What are you, nuts? He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”

***

“I think we can rule out phantom traveler,” you noted as you got out of the car in front of the Phelps’s house. You were going to visit the wife of George Phelps, the man who opened the emergency exit. 

“Why?” Dean asked.

“You heard Jaffey. He said the dude had black eyes. Opened a fucking emergency exit on his own. ‘Black eyes’ points me to demon.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Demons?”

“I mean, it makes sense,” Sam shrugged. “He could be a demon. He might be some kind of a creature, too, in human form.”

“Does that look like a creature's lair to you?” Dean questioned as he gestured toward the house that was representative of the essence of suburban houses. From its beautiful garden to the cobblestone steps to the beige paint coating the outside of the two-story building.

Sam shrugged and began leading your trio up the steps of the house. 

Once inside, you three sat across from Mrs. Phelps on the couch while she sat in an armchair. 

Sam picked a picture of Mrs. Phelps and an older man up off of the side table. “This is your late husband?” he asked.

“Yes, that was my George.”

“And you said he was a dentist?” Dean questioned. 

She hummed in affirmation. “He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that...”

Sam asked another question. “How long were you married?”

“Thirteen years.”

You could tell Sam was contemplating how to ask his next question. “In all that time, did you ever notice anything… strange about him; anything out of the ordinary?”

She paused for a moment. “Well, uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean.”

You nodded, clicking your tongue. “I think that’s all we have for you, Mrs. Phelps. Thank you for your time.”

She showed all of you out, and you piped up as you walked down the stairs outside of the house. 

“Demon’s sounding more and more correct all the time,” you smiled, trying to joke around.

“Jesus, you’re annoying,” Dean groaned.

“And you’re a misogynistic dick that can’t handle women with brains,” you responded. 

“What, are we gonna duke this out now?” Dean stopped by the door of the car, facing you. 

You stood by the backseat’s door. “You started it,” you taunted childishly, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared back at him. 

“Really?” he leered. “You’re gonna pull that card? Mature.”

“You act like you’re any better.”

“Guys—” Sam tried to cut in, but Dean continued to fight with you. 

“You’re such a bitch.”

“Wow, haven’t heard that one before,” you drawled.

“Guys! You can fight later. Wrong place, wrong time to sort this out,” Sam chastised you and Dean like you were children.

You got in the car and slammed the door behind you.

“Don’t hurt my baby ‘cause you’re pissed,” Dean scolded you as he started to pull the car away. 

“Just drive, asshole,” you grumbled in frustration as you slumped down in your seat. The rest of the car ride to the local outlet mall was silent.

***

You had never felt more confident. Despite the fact that you could have worn the one dress you already had to pose as homeland security, you decided to treat yourself to a new outfit to distract from your aggravation with Dean. 

The boys had gone to a suit shop called “Mort’s for Style,” and you went into a dress shop called “Betsy’s.” It was a cute little shop with a lot of great dress and pantsuit options.

You had picked out a navy blue pantsuit. You wore a white button-up underneath the blazer with the top two buttons undone to accentuate your breasts. The blazer was unbuttoned, and the high-waisted, straight-legged pants you wore matched the black color of your blazer. With the white button-up tucked into your pants and the small amount of makeup you threw on to draw attention to your eyes and lips, you felt good. 

Once you had paid for your clothing, you walked out of the shop and back to the Impala. Surprisingly, the boys were not there waiting for you. 

You leaned your back against the car, picking out the grit from under your nails.

You looked up when you heard Dean’s voice. “Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers.” 

Both of the boys were dressed in sharp, black suits. You almost lost your breath at the sight of Dean, but fought yourself to keep your composure. You would not give him the satisfaction of knowing you found him attractive. 

“No, you don't,” Sam told him. “You look more like a seventh-grader at his first dance.”

You laughed at the younger brother’s jeer. “What took you girls so long?” you asked once you got in the Impala. “I thought you two would’ve beat me out the store by a long shot.”

“Dean wouldn’t leave the dressing room,” Sam said dryly.

“Seriously?” you droned.

You and Sam both looked to Dean, who did not answer immediately. When he finally spoke, he complained, “I hate this thing.”

“Hey,” Sam stared. “You want into that warehouse or not?”

Dean rolled his eyes as he continued to drive along.

You steeled your nerves as your black, pointed-toe pumps clicked across the warehouse floor. Your trio was headed to the security guard that would allow you in to see the wreckage.

You held the clipboard you had stowed in your bag close to your chest, acting as some sort of a recorder for the boys. The three of you flashed your badges at the security guard, who nodded and allowed you into the hangar where the wreckage was being kept.

There was a large map of what the plane should look like painted onto the floor, and the parts that corresponded to the different portions of the map were laid in their proper spots. There were wires hung on fences and broken interior parts of the plane laid on tables. The most heartbreaking things for you to look at were the torn passengers’ seats because most of the people who had been in them were now dead.

You looked over at Dean, who had earbuds in and was moving a small box over the tops of the wreckage.

“What’s that?” you asked him.

“It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies.”

You got closer to him, noticing what the object appeared to be. “I know what an EMF meter is; I’m not stupid. But why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?”

“ 'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade,” he grinned.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you quipped. 

His grin disappeared. “Bitch.”

“Dick.”

You once again fought the pain in your chest when he called you a bitch. In all honesty, you thought his homemade EMF meter was cute. However, you were too far gone in your war with him to surrender now.

Dean ran the Walkman over a piece of the wreckage with black spores and yellow dust on it. You could hear the faint sound of a spike on the meter through Dean’s headphones.

“Check out the emergency door handle,” Dean called to Sam. 

Sam came over to where you and Dean stood as the older brother scratched at the dust to get some on his hand.

“What is this stuff?” Dean asked.

One way to find out.” You saw the younger of the two brothers start scraping some of the dust into a small bag.

“We need to go,” you told the boys. You weren’t sure what told you that, but you just suddenly felt unsettled. The hairs on the back of your neck stood at attention, and every muscle in your body tensed. You started off toward the exit in the back of the warehouse. 

“Wait, (Y/N), what if we’re missin’ something?” Dean questioned, clearly aggravated you were ready to ditch already.

“Too bad, we gotta go.” You kept walking toward the exit, making it out of the door and around the backside of the building. 

At that moment, an alarm started blaring through the area surrounding the warehouse.

You turned around to look at the boys as you gloated, “I’m not gonna say, ‘I told you so’!“ Not bothering to rip your shoes off of your feet, you took off running to the gated exit. 

Sam and Dean were quick to follow you and soon passed you up. The older brother took off his suit jacket and threw it over the barbed wire at the top of the fence. You did the same with your blazer. After quickly taking off your pumps to avoid hurting yourself when you jumped from the top of the gate, you threw yourself over the fence. The other two did the same.

Sam grabbed your blazer that you were too small to reach from the top of the fence as Dean found it within himself to remark, “Well, these monkey suits do come in handy.”

You ran after the two boys, heels and blazer in hand as the jagged rocks in the cement cut into your feet. As soon as you shut the door to the car, Dean slammed on the gas pedal.

He tore out of the warehouse’s parking lot, speeding down the road to head toward Jerry’s workplace. 

"(Y/N),” Sam started, turning in his seat to face you with a curious expression on his face, “how did you know that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. My intuition’s just always been pretty sharp.” You were being honest; there had been a few times on hunts previously when you’d known it was time to get the hell out of dodge.

“Hm.” You could tell Dean still didn’t trust you.

“Dude, I don’t know what else to tell you. That’s the truth,” you countered. “I’ve been helping you guys with your dad for almost two months now, and you still don’t trust me. I don’t know what more to do for you.”

“Maybe because I don’t know you,” he responded, never taking his eyes off the road. 

“Maybe if you tried to know me, you’d find it a little easier to trust me,” you answered.

“Not interested,” came Dean’s grumbled response.

You tried your best to ignore the pang that went through your chest once more. “Of course not.”

***

You refused to speak to or even look at Dean; your frustration with the fact that he had no desire to know you and his general existence boiling to the surface. You could feel his stare burning into the side of your head as you focused on Jerry, who sat in front of you. He was looking through a microscope on his desk at the yellow dust Sam had collected.

“Huh,” Jerry remarked. “This stuff is covered in sulfur.”

“You're sure?” Sam asked.

“Take a look for yourself,” Jerry offered, getting up from behind the desk so Sam could take his place. 

Banging sounds along with a string of curse words caught your ear as Jerry sighed. 

“If you guys will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire,” he dryly stated, walking out of the office.

You got up from the chair you were sitting in next to Dean. “See?” you started excitedly, gesturing toward the sulfur, “Demons.”

“That would explain how one guy had the strength to open up the emergency exit,” Sam added.

“This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?” Dean put his hands on his hips as he stood. “You ever heard of something like this before?” 

Sam looked over at his brother, who responded, “Never.”

“Well, I have,” you said simply.

They both looked to you to continue.

“In NYC a couple years back. Some cabbies had gotten possessed and were takin’ girls left and right.”

“Those were demons?” Sam asked, standing up from behind Jerry’s desk. “That was a huge deal on the news while I was at Stanford. Police thought it was a serial killer. You took ‘em on all by yourself?”

“I’m a big girl, Sam,” you chuckled. “I can handle a few demons. But, yeah, that was me. That was probably the toughest case I’ve ever been on. Finding where those demons had taken those girls after they drugged them in the cabs... where they were raped and murdered...” You shook your head, your cheery expression gone. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Sam told you gently. 

Your eyes were glued to the floor, hands on your hips with not a bit of life in your voice as you muttered, “All in a day’s work.”

Sam had asked you to tell him and Dean everything you knew about demons once you got back to the Winchesters’ motel room. Sam sat at the table close to the window while Dean sat on the bed closest to his brother. You stood in front of the two as you spoke.

“Demons exist in every religion in every world culture. With the ones that I was dealing with up in New York, they were most similar to Incubi from early Christian religion. Incubi raped sleeping girls. These demons drugged the girls to put them to sleep, then they raped them, and then they murdered them. What I’m thinking for these demons is that they’re most similar to certain Japanese demons. I had to look into these when I was trying to figure out how to kill the NYC demons. The Japanese believe demons cause certain disasters, whether it be natural or man-made. Some cause earthquakes, others cause disease—”

“And this one causes plane crashes?” Dean deadpanned, cutting you off.

You ignored him. “Demons are having to find new ways to ratchet up the body count. Like with me in New York, Incubi can’t go about their old methods anymore. This demon probably evolved with the times like the Incubi did, and so it figured plane crashes were the best way to get its job done.”

Dean snorted, getting up from. the bed and turning away from you and his brother.

“What?” Sam asked.

He turned around, scratching the back of his neck. “I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death, and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here.”

“Yeah. Me too,” the younger Winchester admitted.

Dean’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Hello?... Oh, hey, Jerry… Wha— Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?... Where'd this happen?... I'll try to ignore the irony in that… Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon.”

He hung up the phone. 

“Another crash?” Sam questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. Let's go.”

“Where?”

“Nazareth.” 

‘Ah, there’s the irony.’

***

After leaving the horrendous scene of Chuck’s plane crash, you and the boys went back to Jerry’s office. Once again, Jerry confirmed that the dust you had taken from the steering wheel of Chuck’s plane was, in fact, sulfur. 

“Well, that's great,” Dean sassed. “Alright, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.”

“If that's the case, that would be the good news,” you chimed in. You looked up to the sky, addressing the pilot. “No offense, Chuck.”

“What's the bad news?” Jerry asked you.

“Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into the flight, just like 2485,” you informed the older man.

“Forty minutes?” Chuck inquired. “What does that mean?”

“It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death,” Dean said.

“I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in,” Sam explained.

"Any survivors?” the older Winchester questioned his brother.

“No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason.” Sam turned to you after thinking for a moment. “On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?”

“ ‘No survivors,’ “ you realized. “It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job.”

Dean drove the Impala down an empty highway. 

Sam was on the phone with one of the survivors from the plane crash, the conversation almost over. “Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “All right. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon.”

“That leaves the flight attendant, Amanda Walker,” you commented.

“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight P.M. It's her first night back on the job,” Sam told you and his brother. 

“That sounds like just our luck,” Dean grumbled.

“Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel,” Sam said worriedly.

“Call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass,” Dean tried.

“I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off.”

“God, we're never gonna make it,” you shook your head, leaning back in the seat as you scrubbed a hand through your hair.

“We'll make it,” the older brother countered, slamming his foot on the gas. 

Somehow, someway, Dean had managed to get to the airport at ten minutes to seven. 

You jumped up out of the car, taking your gun out of your pants and stashing it under the backseat.

“What are you doing?” 

You still did not feel like talking to Dean but answered him shortly nonetheless. “We’re going into an airport.”

Dean finally caught onto what you meant and took all of his weapons off of him, too. “I feel naked.”

You fought the smile threatening to creep up your face.

You rushed into the airport just behind the boys, squeezing your way through the crowd of people to get to the departure board.

“Right there,” Sam pointed out. “They're boarding in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. We still have some cards to play,” Dean paused, thinking for a moment.  “We need to find a phone.” 

He found a courtesy phonw on the wall, picking it up. “Hi. Gate thirteen… I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um… flight 4-2-4.”

He waited impatiently for Amanda to pick up the phone. When she finally did, he began speaking again.

“Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here… Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so—” His face fell, his eyes widening a touch. “You what?... Uh, well… there must be some mistake—”

Sam went around his brother to try to get a closer listen. 

After a longer pause, Dean let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “...Guilty as charged… He's really sorry… Yeah, but… he really needs to see you tonight, so—... Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic… Oh, yeah… No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda!” Dean slammed the phone back onto the receiver. “Damn it! So close.”

"Alright, time for plan B. We're getting on that plane,” you stated firmly.

“Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second.” For the first time since you met him, Dean looked scared.

“Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash,” Sam argued.

“I know.” He looked conflicted.

“Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You and (Y/N) get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

Dean looked at Sam blankly, evidently a little anxious.

“Are you okay?” the younger Winchester asked.

Dean hesitated. “No, not really.”

“What? What's wrong?”

“Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh...”

“Flying?” you cut in.

“It's never really been an issue until now,” he told you.

“You're joking, right?” Sam huffed.

“Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?” he spat.

For the first time since you met him, you didn’t feel like mocking him about his fear of planes.

“Okay, then (Y/N) and I’ll go,” Sam proposed.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

“We’ll handle this one.”

“What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash.”

“Dean, we can do it together, or I can do this one with (Y/N). I'm not seeing a third option, here.”

Dean scratched his head. “Come on! Really? Man...”

Dean walked much faster than you did toward the car to get supplies, clearly trying to leave you in his dust.

“Would you slow down a bit, please?” you asked.

“Why should I?”

“Because even if you get to the car before me, you’re not gonna have a fucking clue what to use to deal with a demon,” you reminded him, your words a bit more venomous than need-be.

He stopped, turning to face you. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“No,” you told him. You truly weren’t.

“Definitely sounds like you are.”

You walked past him to the trunk of the Impala. “I wasn’t, I’m simply pointing out the fact that I’m the one who knows how to deal with demons, and you don’t.”

“There you go again. Acting like you know so much better than I do.” His attitude was truly exhausting.

Your voice rose as you defended yourself. “Because I do! In this case, at least!”

“But it’s not just this one time that you acted like you’re better than me,” he argued. “Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with your smart ass?”

“Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with yours?” you threw back. You sighed, putting aside your anger for now. “Look, we don’t have time to talk about this.” You shoved holy water, a rosary, and the EMF Walkman into Dean’s hands. “Now, let’s go.” 

You shoved past Dean and headed back to the airport.

***

You sat between Sam and Dean, completely at ease. Dean, however, was losing his mind.

"Just try to relax,” Sam whispered from the window seat 

Dean’s voice came back harder and slightly louder. “Just try to shut up.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” you scolded playfully.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Dean clapped back using the same tone with you that he had with Sam. He took in a sharp breath when the plane began moving a second later.

You gathered your courage and grabbed his hand. He jerked away from you and looked at you in surprise. When the plane took off, though, his hand rejoined yours, squeezing tightly. You giggled to yourself.

“I’m so glad this is funny to you,” Dean hissed.

“It’s not,” you answered simply.

“Then why are you laughing?” His grip tightened once again.

“It’s just,” you considered your next words carefully. “It’s kind of cute, that’s all.”

Dean was caught off-guard by your response. He eyed you quizzically, unsure of what to say. You just shrugged, settling the back of your head against your seat with your hand still in Dean’s. It was much larger than yours, and you fought the urge to run your fingers along the calloused ridges. 

Moments passed in a bit of an uncomfortable silence before Dean spoke again, not a trace of bite in his tone. “Why are you doing this?”

You rolled your head toward him. “Everybody’s scared of something,” you quietly replied. “It helps me to know I’m helping you. Even if you do hate my guts.”

“I don’t hate your guts.” He spoke so softly you almost couldn’t hear him.

“Pfft, could’ve fooled me,” you answered. 

“You just…” he started, “...get on my nerves. ‘S all.”

You giggled. 

A few minutes later when the plane had fully gotten up in the air, you heard the familiar sound of a song you had heard many times before in the Impala coming from the man next to you. 

“You're humming Metallica?” Sam asked Dean monotonously.

“Calms me down,” the older brother replied. 

“ ‘Some Kind of Monster’? Really?“ You raised a brow at him.

Dean did not respond to you.

“Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused,” the younger Winchester reminded his brother.

“Yup,” you chimed in. “We only have thirty-two minutes to track the bitch down and full-on exorcise it.” 

“Yeah, on a crowded plane,” Dean commented. “That's gonna be easy.”

“Just take it one step at a time, alright?” Sam said calmly. “Now, who is it possessing?” 

“It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress,” Dean stated.

“Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up,” Sam told Dean, who hummed in response.

Dean sat up stiffly, his body still tense as he turned to the blonde flight attendant walking past.

“Excuse me. Are you Amanda?” he asked her.

“No, I'm not,” she answered with a smile.

"Oh, my mistake.”

The flight attendant hummed in agreement.

He peered into the back of the plane, finding the other blonde flight attendant. “All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state.”

“What if she's already possessed, genius?” Sam asked.

“There's ways to test that,” Dean responded, pulling the holy water out of his jacket. “I brought holy water.”

“Correction, I brought holy water—” you leaned forward, gently taking the bottle, “—And that’s for when we try to exorcise the demon. She’ll flinch at the name of god if she’s possessed.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean replied, getting up from his chair. You could tell he had not. You already missed the feeling of his hand in yours.

He turned to go, but you stopped him.

“Dean!” you whispered.

“What?” The annoyance in Dean’s voice was back. 

“Say it in Latin.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then what is it?” you smirked, quirking a brow.

“ ‘Christo!’ I’m not an idiot!” he hissed back. Dean turned away from you and headed to the back of the plane. 

You slumped down in your seat, closing your eyes as the copilot began speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your first officer speaking...” you tuned out the rest of his message.

A few minutes went by before the older brother returned.

“Alright, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet,” he sighed as he flopped back into his seat.

“You said ‘Christo’?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her.” 

“So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere,” Sam explained.

The plane shook, causing Dean to tense up. He grabbed your hand once more. “Come on!” he whined. “That can't be normal!”

“Hey, hey, it's just turbulence,” you coaxed.

“Sweetheart, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm fucking four.” He went to drop your hand, but you tightened your grip.

“Okay,” you started, changing tactics. Your tone became harsh. “You need to calm down.”

“Well, I'm sorry, I can't,” Dean sassed.

“You didn’t want to be treated like you’re four, so stop acting like it,” you commanded. “Be a man, Winchester. If you’re a basketcase, you’re wide open to possession. Get your shit together. Right now.”

Dean took a deep breath.

You smiled. “Great. Onto the Rituale Romanum.”

“The what?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

“The exorcism ritual,” you elaborated. “It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful.”

“More powerful?” Dean questioned, his voice strained and eyes wide.

“Yup.”

“How?” He was starting to get panicky again.

“It’d just be able to wreak havoc on its own without a vessel,” you informed.

“Oh. And why is that a good thing?”

“ 'Cause the second part of that sends the bitch back to hell once and for all.”

“First things first, we got to find it.”

“There ya go,” you chuckled.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, getting up from his chair with the EMF Walkman.

You and Sam let him walk down the aisle by himself for a few minutes before the two of you got up to go talk to him.

You tapped his shoulder.

“Ah!” Dean jumped back, wheeling around to face you. “Don’t do that!”

“Anything?” Sam asked.

The older brother shook his head. “No, nothing. How much time we got?” 

“Fifteen minutes,” Sam told you and his brother. “Maybe we missed somebody.” 

“Maybe the thing's just not on the plane,” Dean shrugged.

“No way. Dean, it’s gonna be here,” you protested. Just as you spoke, the EMF meter spiked. 

You looked up to see the copilot coming out of the bathroom.

“What?” Sam asked. “What is it?”

You stared at the copilot. “Christo.”

The man’s head slowly turned toward you and the boys, his eyes black.

You wheeled around to face Sam. “We gotta talk to Amanda.”

“She's not gonna believe this,” Sam contested.

“You’re probably right, but we only got twelve minutes,” you reminded the younger brother. You walked ahead of the boys into the concessions area where Amanda busied herself.

“Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope,” she smiled politely, clearly caught off-guard by your presence.

“Actually—” Dean began, “—that's kind of what we need to talk to you about.”

Sam closed the curtains behind you as Amanda answered Dean. “Um, okay. What can I do for you?”

“Alright, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole ‘the truth is out there’ speech right now,” Dean rushed out.

She looked confused but kept her smile painted on her face.

“Alright, look, we know you were on flight 2485,” Sam continued for Dean.

Her grin disappeared. “Who are you guys?”

Sam ignored her question. “Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure.”

“We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now,” the older brother told her.

“I'm sorry—” she started, attempting to move past you, “I— I'm very busy. I have to go back—”

“Chuck Lambert’s dead, Amanda,” you cut in, effectively stopping her from leaving. “The pilot from 2485.”

“Wait. What?” She turned to face you, her eyebrows furrowed. “Chuck is dead?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “He died in a plane crash. That’s the second plane crash in two months. Doesn’t that strike you as weird?”

She shook her head in complete disbelief.

“Look, there was something wrong with 2485,” Sam added. “Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too.”

Dean made a last attempt to drive the point home. “Amanda, you have to believe us.”

The blonde looked to the ground. “On… on 2485, there was this man. He… had these eyes.”

“Black eyes?” you asked.

She nodded.

“That’s exactly what we’re talking about,” Sam clarified.

“I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?”

Dean answered before you got the chance to. “Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here.”

Amanda looked between the three of you, confused. “Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

“Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay?”

“How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot—” You could practically see her mind running a mile a minute. 

Even Sam was getting impatient. “Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit.”

“Do you know that I could lose my job if you—”

“Babe, you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't go get him right now,” you remarked.

She looked at you and nodded, turning to leave for the cockpit.

As soon as Amanda made it out of the curtains, you fished the holy water out of your hoodie’s pocket, moving to press your back against the wall next to the closed blue curtains.

A few moments later, you heard the copilot say to Amanda, “Yeah, what's the problem?” Just outside the curtains. As soon as the demon ducked into the small room, Dean punched him in the face. He then shoved the demon to the ground and slapped duct tape over his mouth. 

“Wait,” Amanda protested as you got down on the ground beside Dean, “What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him.”

“We are gonna talk to him,” Dean replied simply as you splashed the copilot with holy water.

The demon groaned under the duct tape, his skin sizzling and burning holes through his shirt.

“Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?” Amanda cried.

“Look,” Sam started calmly, “We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain.”

Amanda’s breath quickened. “Well, I don't underst— I don't know—”

“Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?”

She gave herself a pep talk before heading outside of the curtains.

“Hurry up, Sam,” Dean groaned. “I don't know how much longer I can hold him.”

The demon went to kick the older Winchester in the back, but you dove to grab his legs.

Sam began reciting the Latin ritual written in his father’s journal. “Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—”

The demon kneed you in the forehead, causing you to fall back and got a few good swings at the boys in as well. You clambered on top of the copilot, sitting on his stomach with his arms pinned by his sides under your legs.

Sam continued with the ritual before the demon threw you off of him. He ripped the tape off of his mouth and turned to Sam. “I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!”

You attempted to recover from getting slammed into the wall while Dean focused on attacking the demon.

Sam sat there in shock, so you grabbed the journal and tried to finish the ritual.

The demon hit Dean again, effectively getting the young man off of him and knocking Dean into you. The book fell from your hand, and the demon kicked it out into the passenger’s cabin.

A cloud of black smoke flew out from the copilot’s body and into a vent while Sam went out into the aisle to find the journal. 

Suddenly, the plane shook violently and took a nosedive. The lights in the plane flickered and you and Dean were thrown to the back wall of the concession’s area. 

You and Dean screamed as the plane went down. Dean held onto the emergency exit door for dear life as you pressed yourself into the corner opposite from the older Winchester.

Your yelps were cut off when the plane leveled out following a surge of electricity coursing through the aircraft. You assumed Sam was able to finish the ritual and the pilot was able to regain control of the plane. 

You shakily stood up from the ground and dusted yourself off, tugging on the sleeves of your large hoodie.

You stepped out into the passenger’s cabin, heading to Sam as people began asking their neighbors if they were okay.

You wrapped Sam in a short, tight hug as you thanked him for keeping his head level enough to finish the ritual and trying to comfort him after what the demon had said. When you had made your way back to your seats, a slight rumble went through the aircraft. Dean grabbed your hand once again, and kept it there for the rest of the flight. A small smile tugged at your lips. 

After landing back at your original airport, you stood beside Sam and Dean as you watched the swarms of EMTs, FBI agents, and FAA agents go from person to person. They questioned or looked over each one, and your focus bounced between them.

You found Amanda in the crowd talking to an FBI agent, and she turned to the side to mouth “thank you” to you and the Winchesters.

“Let's get out of here,” Dean said firmly.

You began to head to the exit when Dean asked Sam, “You okay?”

You turned back to Sam, who reminded you and his brother, “Dean, it knew about Jessica.”

“Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. Alright? That's all it was.” The older brother attempted to brush Sam’s concerns off.

“Yeah.” The brunet didn’t sound convinced.

“Come on.”

***

The next day, you and the Winchesters visited Jerry at his workplace to give him the final mission report. Jerry showed you and the boys out and escorted you to the Impala parked outside of the warehouse. 

“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed,” he acknowledged. He shook your hand before turning to the boys. “Your dad's gonna be real proud.”

Sam gave him an awkward, tight-lipped smile. “We'll see you around, Jerry.”

You turned to the car, as did Dean before he turned back to the older man. 

“You know, Jerry—" he began.

“Yeah.”

“I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway?” the young man continued. “I've only had it for like six months.”

“Your dad gave it to me,” Jerry explained simply.

“What?” Sam exclaimed in shock.

“When did you talk to him?” Dean questioned.

“I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call.” He took a pause. “Thanks again, guys— and gal,” he grinned.

“Bye, Jerry!” you called after him as he headed off.

“This doesn't make any sense, man. I've called Dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service,” Sam told his brother.

Dean dials what you assumed was his father’s number. However, instead of the out-of-service message Sam had described, a voicemail began to play.

The two boys leaned into the phone so they could hear it better.

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, the voice hard to hear, but you were still able to make out the words. “This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.”

Sam fumed, shaking his head in frustration as he got in the car. He slammed the door behind him. You looked over to Dean, who did not meet your gaze. He got in the car following his brother. You took one last look at the setting sun as a plane flew over your head. 

“I fuckin’ hate flying,” you muttered.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel

[invece-sto-sdraiato]

My experience of watching House MD with my mom (a government certified dermatologist):

It was surprisingly such a bonding experience for us, now that I think about it. It was kind of our thing. I would ask her many questions about the technical stuff (biology lover here) and she would explain all of it to me. There were so many days when we would just discuss whatever happened in an episode, for hours. She didn’t mind any of the malpractice stuff (compared to what happens in Indian hospitals sometimes, house barely scratches the surface)

And I used to get so….idk exasperated at house’s cynicism towards others, while she didn’t give a thought about it. This is a woman who is currently in an administrative position (Associate Professor, to be exact) and she’s told me about the absolute shit some of her colleagues/subordinates have given her. I mean, she’s seen it all. She’s probably met people like house.

Coming back to the technics, she used to talk admiringly about how (mostly) accurate the med stuff was, and how there’s a lot of research gone into the writing of the show. And house’s discussion with the others using a whiteboard. I think that was what really made her like this show. I’ll elaborate.

This happened today:

Mom: “Last week, I was asking my students about the different dermatological diagnoses they’ve encountered in recent cases. And then, I asked them if any of them had ever watched House.” (She occasionally teaches post-graduate med students)

Me: “Really? Uh…. you asked them if they’ve watched House…of all the possible medical dramas?”

Mom: *eye roll* “Anyways, some of them said yes. And then I explained, how their method of determining the differential diagnosis is quite useful. Listing it all on a whiteboard, you know, it helps to clearly see where you stand and how to further proceed from there. And House gives the others freedom to express their opinions and doubts.”

Dad, suddenly: “He’ll list all possible diagnoses, and there’s times even when he has to strike out all of them. But none of them show any frustration and they keep brainstorming until they find the correct one. That can be so useful in daily life, you know?”

Me: “huh, I suppose you’re right.”

Dad: “They’re using something known as the ‘first principle thinking’ in psychology. It means that you refrain from making assumptions, and you go right to the basics, to find a solution.”

So. Idk what to say now. Maybe just that I have a lot of good memories pertaining to House. But obviously, being the teenager that I am, I was very interested in the hilson side of things (even if those two are seriously fucked up) but I also loved watching House for the technical stuff and used to get pretty excited if I even knew a bit about whatever illness was in an episode (a nerd’s a nerd 😅) sorry for the long post.

[jinglyjangly]

Major spoilers

So shady sands got nuked by a random vault dweller because his wife took their kids, and he wanted his kids, and he was mad his wife found a settlement when vault tec was supposed to be the ones settling the surface…he was mad the ncr “did vault Tec’s job before they could” so he blew…the fucking ncr’s main settlement up

I wonder if it’s like “oh yeah he was a protag of his own mind pretty much” kind of jab but even then it leaves a bad taste in my mouth? Because it is insane video game writing and it’s definitely insane bethesda video game writing, but it fucks up a very integral part of two major games

And I hate how much like…yeah the BoS is back to being technocratic and more cult like in the show but it’s also still praised kind of? And the random, and I mean RANDOM, nonbinary BoS member that’s there for like, 20 minutes was just…a waste. A nonbinary person that really does nothing but just be there and hurt themselves to forward the narrative of the cis het protag. Honestly they’re there to piss of the conservative gamers but I’m not conservative and I’m pissed shady sands and the ncr got did dirty like that so in the end every fallout fan is mad

Like…the ncr went from a huge mega power that is basically a country, to being blown up by a dude? And they don’t mention the hoover dam and how maybe they were weakened from the legion/ncr conflict…which would’ve made it believable. Nada. They just say it this guy blew up shady sands so I guess it happened. It’s canon.

They just made the ncr seem so small after fnv made it feel so big and menacing in its own way with hundreds of named npcs with stories and it was so gooooood and they made it feel like a shitty dinky settlement comparable to fucking…like…diamond city

Idk it’s like 5am and the final episode just pissed me off. They should’ve just set it in New York or Florida and made up new factions instead of establishing canon endings to the most favored game in the series. Or they could’ve done a prequel to fo4 if they wanted it to tie in the games so bad.

The ghoul also has the best scenes and story but I’m…idk the drugs suppressing the “feral” disease is also a weird thing. It’s new to the tv series and what only in la? What’s it made of that no one else makes? And why the fuck did he have to eat someone. I liked the scene because it was kinda just neat to watch in a way… but it’s like “oh he’s a ghoul so he eats people whoOoOo” They never really…explain…if he like…needs meat or something and idk. I dunno. And cold fusion? Like what. Wha…uh. I fucking hate the idea of power being harnessed from tiny object. It’s just a lame McGuffin they can pass around. I would rather it be like…they’re fighting over a wind farm to harness power and they need like a scientist/engineer to fix it. Something that feels big and really.

Anyway, I’m fine with watching it until I think about it, and then I don’t like the plot. So it feels like fo4 all over again but I’m more mad because I feel like it ruined fnv’s ending. Which sucks. So personally I do not see the show as canon but as like, fan fiction to like…maybe a independent/house/legion ending for fnv when the ncr is super week and some guy just bombs it…because he’s mad at his wife.

Big ooof, a 8/10 until episode 8 and then it’s a fat 2/10…one star for goggins making another badass ghoul in the series and one for the dog

[sbk-zgvlt]

HELP I JUST GOT THIS IDEA…

Book 7 spoilers bc I know people (me) read this shit like the newspaper.

So. Because Sebek had like. A mental health crisis and almost fell back into deep sleep and it was suspiciously familiar. Consider.

Weeks after the events of Book 7, Sebek gets a little invitation to a meeting in, say, the Astronomy Tower or something. I dunno. Nothing about TWST says there isn’t one, it’s a common setting in fics, plus it’s pretty. Anyway he tells Malleus about it bc it’s after hours and (with a Look) Malleus tells him he can (and should) go.

When Sebek gets there, he’s very confused to find a meeting of six out of the seven Housewardens plus Jamil there sitting in a circle and chatting. They inform him that it’s an overblot support group.

Sebek: … but I haven’t overblotted????

Riddle: Really? Malleus has informed us that whilst he was overseeing Lilia’s dream, you experienced something similar.

Sebek: I simply almost fell into deep sleep again and lost lucidity! It is nothing to fret over.

Azul: Oh? Then you didn’t have an emotional episode in which you made a very poor decision that threw away all logic?

Sebek: uh

Leona: And there wasn’t black shit everywhere?

Sebek: well

Vil: And there weren’t monsters attacking your friends that were made of said black goop that had to be fought off to save you?

Sebek: um

Jamil: and you weren’t left completely drained of all energy afterwards?

Sebek just. Quietly takes the open seat next to Malleus.

He effectively had a mental-only overblot, man. It might not have been as physically harmful as a normal overblot but he deserves support.

BRO,,,BRO,,,,

He's STUMPED. He sees absolutely no need for him to be in this...support group? Surely, his liege has suffered far more than him! HE was the one who overblotted, not Sebek! In fact, everyone else in this group has carried burdens that Sebek can't even fathom. He voices this out immediately in the middle of his first meeting.

"It's not about who got the shorter end of the stick." Jamil tries to explain to him. "It's the fact that all of us got one in the first place." Sebek raises a brow. "I HAVE NEVER BEEN HANDED A STICK!" "YOU'RE ACTUALLY HOPELESS."

Malleus sighs and tries to reason with him. "At least try. I'm saying this not as your liege, but as your friend." "WE'RE FRIENDS!?!!??" Leona stares at Sebek tearing up before turning to Malleus. "Yeah, he's fucked in the head."

The meetings are already wild to begin with, especially with overblotees who don't really have a high opinion on each other. Adding Sebek in kind of disrupts the balance of people "hating" each other.

When they asked Sebek how his "overblot" went, Sebek stared off into the distance before saying that it was embarrassing. Everyone's shocked that he described such an experience that way. "...just embarrassing?" Vil asks, clearly not satisfied with the answer. "I was stuck in a dreamscape that replicated the exact visage of the horrors of war. I should've raised my guard, yet..."

Sebek looks a bit embarrassed before admitting, "I got carried away, believing in praise that I could only find in my own dreams. I shouldn't have been so...easy to manipulate." Malleus winces at his words. "If it weren't for Silver, it's most likely that-" He cuts himself off.

Azul prods, too invested in the story, "Most likely what?" Sebek gulps. "It was most likely that I would've never gotten out." Silence. "B-but it was a dream. Like, u could always respawn!" Idia tries to say.

"Silver said that he didn't know what would happen if anyone actually...died in a dream. Especially with his unique magic."

Malleus excuses himself from the meeting. He doesn't return.

The second meeting that Sebek attends, Malleus shifts his chair just a bit closer towards his.

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

TBB s3 ep13 THOUGHTS!!

Starting off with a sunny shot of Tantiss seems like a good omen

I probably just jinxed it huh?

Omega🥺🥺🥺

Poor baby

But they get toys

EVA TELLING OMEGA ABOUT THE DOLL

ECHOOOOOOOO

“You really think we can trust that hydrosnake?”

“I can hear you.”

Bitch is bitching about the Captains uniform like he hasn’t been wearing prison pj’s for two episodes

Oh? Omega snuck a weapon?

Smart girl

Omega is there for what? One day? Two? And she already has a plan to get them all out

The boys will finally find tantiss only for her to stand on a pile of rubble with a blaster and the other kids around her like “oh you finally made it?”

Echo stripping their armour from all colour pls this is making me so sad🥲

Like I know it’s just for infiltration but idk, their armour losing it’s individuality is feeling like a BAD omen to me

“That’s ’do your thing, sir.’”

“I don’t think so.”

Bro really just wants to get punched in the face, huh?

“Where is your captain?”

“Uh… … … captaining?”

👏👏👏👏👏

showstopping

truly

I’ve been laughing at this for 2 minutes straight

The comedic timing was *chef’s kiss*

see I knew Wrecker was gonna beat the shit out of him

Honestly Rampart is the most whiny little bitch I’ve ever seen

Like JESUS CHRIST just shut your mouth

Like he’s complaining about EVERYTHING like he has a say?

Hate to break it to you buddy, but YOU DONT

YOURE JUST PISSING PEOPLE OFF

That sequence of Echo sneaking aboard was 10/10

Fucking droid vacuum? LOVE IT

“Bout time.”

While wearing the guys hat HAHAHAHAHAH

WOW

JUST IN TIME

I was SO SURE that it would go wrong again

Honestly since Cross missed the shot I’ve been scared

I mean, I knew Omega was gonna make it out, but I wasn’t so sure about the rest of the batch

Honestly for a second there I was like “Jup, this is it. The moment we lose Echo.”

BUT THANK FUCK HE MADE IT

Yo besties, this one was a rollercoaster

I mean I had a good time but I went through a lot of emotions there phew 😮‍💨

So does this mean that Cross can kill Rampart now? Because they don’t need him anymore, right?

Also, I love that Echo is back, but again, I AM SO SAD REX ISN’T WITH HIM! Because if Rex isn’t in this episode, then he probably won’t be in the next two either. Like I was really hoping we were past the “let Rex show up in ONE (1) arc per season, somewhere mid-season” thing. Like I was hoping we were gonna actually tie him into the story so that the torch for “clone centric animation show” could be passed to him and now I’m less optimistic.

I mean, anything can happen still but… we have two episodes left and somehow we still don’t quite know what the deal is with Omega’s blood and M-count, she still needs to escape, we still don’t know who clone X is, and we somehow need to find a conclusion for the batch AND the clone rebellion that explains their absence in future storylines without being rushed and… that’s,,,, A LOT?

In conclusion, I am very confused and scared and I’d like to go home now pls (by which I mean the batch should get to go back to Pabu with ALL THE OTHER CLONES IN TBE GALAXY and have a nice little life🥺)

anyways see you next week! hahahaha🥲

[danielfosseyart]

Daniel Watches She-Ra

& The Princesses Of Power

-S1E3- 'Razz'

Todays' She-Ra Watchthrough Art: Look I have been having a real shit week or so let me just bullshit this one thanks

Dumb question but why is Glimmers mom British? Also this is probably just me but it looks like her wings are attached to her hair & I can't stop thinking about it.

Oh also yo the theme song?

Yeah that's pretty swell.

A big step up from the original cartoon which was just.....sad? It's just like a sad attempt of being a cool retro cartoon theme song. It fails to live up to any of the greats of decades past.

TMNT 87? Iconic. Badass. Groovy. Radical.

Transformers? Iconic as well. Absolutely fucks.

The Super Mario Bros. Super Show? Fucking ART that makes Hans Zimmer look like an absolute fucking dork.

Sonic Underground? LITERALLY THE GREATEST FUCKING PIECE OF MUSIC EVER COMPOSED BY MANKIND.

80s She-Ra? It's like watching a cat spray diarrhea across my carpet for a solid minute. It's just sad.

Okay so I literally don't know any of their names but uh-

These two. These two evil goons right here.

Are-

Okay so are they like gay? I don't know why but my brain saw this & went "Is this dude dating that lizard? are they going to smooch?"

I have no evidence or any proof to back up my claim here.

But I'm gonna just assume these two are gay & smooching & holding hands & stuff.

Anyways these goon squad characters are lame, also fuck that one girl who was bullying Cat-Ra, like, damn. The fuck is her problem?

Like leave that cat alone she's a fucking cat. Who bullies a cat??

Fuck you!!

Yeah so the only two goons I find myself enjoying are these two because I just get a strong feeling that they might be gay.

Again, I have no proof or evidence. But I'm gonna just say that they are anyway because I decided that I want to & you can't stop me.

Also one of them is a lizard dude. Like I said, that objectively makes him cool as fuck because reptiles are rad as hell.

ALSO GLIMMER & ADORA ARE SO GAY??

LIKE- OKAY FIRST OFF THIS POSE ABOVE THIS SENTENCE? THAT AIN'T A POSE OF A STRAIGHT PERSON. SHE'S AT THE VERY LEAST BI OR LESBIAN OR SOMETHING. BUT NAH THAT POSE IS GIVING ME VERY HEAVY FAG VIBES /POS

GOD THEY'RE GAY THEY'RE GAY THEY ARE GIRLFRIENDS IDC

I fucking squealed at this they're SO IN LOVE AAAAAA

GOD THEY ARE SO GAY

SHE'S BEING SO GAY JUST TALKING ABOUT ADORA/SHE-RA

GAY?? GAY

REAL

IF THEY DONT KISS & HOLD HANDS BY THE END IM GOING TO PISS ON MY NEIGHBOURS MAILBOX

POV: Glimmer introduces you to her wife (she's magic & can become very tall & glows bc she's just cool like that)

Also I like, find She-Ra so fucking funny from the design itself?

She's just.....tall. She's a tall lass. Big. Large. Massive. A Tree.

Like, the fact that she's just....big. Like this is a needed change for her transformation. Being taller is an essential part of it.

One of her magical powers is just being really tall I guess. Like that's part of the transformation, she gets BIG. So that's just considered a power, because it makes her taller.

Being a tall fuck is considered a magical ability in this universe.

Also why did this episode just turn into Pixars' Brave (2012) for the middle part? I'm not upset I'm just confused bc I didn't expect to be hit with this sudden flashback to 2012 shit. But I like this old lady.

But (good job daniel you used but twice in a row, you're so good at writing you stupid fucking idiot-) I just kept being reminded of Brave while watching. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. I haven't watched Brave in like a decade. Like, damn though, this part just reminded me of it a lot & I feel it's worth mentioning.

I should rewatch Brave sometime.

AHEM-

SHE'S SO FUCKING CUTE I WANT TO CRY SHE'S LITERALLY THE SCRUNKLY SCRIMBLO BLORBO AND ALSO A FAGGOT. I LOVE HER. PROTECT THIS SPARKLY FAGGOT & HER MAGICAL WIFE.

GRAHHHHHHH

Whore-Dak Update:

Okay Hordak, you get points just because you told Shadow Weaver to go fuck herself. That's incredibly based & awesome of you. To not only tell the wizard bitch to shove her stupid fucking shadow magic fart clouds up her ass. But you also were like "Hey angry lesbian cat, you get a promotion because you're epic" & that's so real.

I respect a villain who doesn't bully cats for no reason.

(other than because you're a huge bitch cough shadow cunt cough)

You're still nowhere near being Skeletor. But you are definitely a far better villain than the original 80s Hordak was. Keep it up buddy.

[saltpepperbeard]

Hey, I’m the anon that mentioned feeling demoralized the other day! I just wanted to thank you for giving such a thoughtful response. I think I just got spooked by the drop in momentum and I have this voice telling me I can control what happens but you’re right—this isn’t on our shoulders because if it were, the show wouldn’t have been cancelled in the first place. I’m just going to keep on hoping since it’s the least I can do for myself and the show <3

Aww of course, anon! I'm glad I could provide at least a little bit of solace! <3

And shdjksdkls YEAH UH, IF IT WERE UP TO ME? WE'D GET A THIRD SEASON, AND THEN A FOURTH SEASON WITH 10 EPISODES OF ED AND STEDE JUST DOING CUTE, MARRIED, DOMESTIC STUFF IN THEIR HOME SDKSHDLK. OR 10 EPISODES OF THEM GOING ON A HONEYMOON IDK,,,

ANYWAY though, yes, hope is so good! It really hasn't been that long, and we've done so, so much. 82k signatures in less than a month. Numerous physical advertisements. A plethora of different writeups/media coverage. So many different trending hashtags on social media. Complete takeovers of Max's social media posts hsdjksdls. Attention from different parties like our main squeeze Astroglide PFFF.

*Ed voice* And more importantly...

We've made the cast and crew feel so, so, SO loved. So we're doing good.

Not to mention, because this just blew my mind way the fuck out like 30ish minutes ago shdjklsdks; David only posted his "call to arms" just a little over a week ago. Eight days ago. It feels like it's been a MONTH since he did that, but it's only been eight days. And then he did his sus "red skies in morning" post not EVEN a week ago.

There could be things happening. And said things might take some time.

But in the meantime? Hope and love are such wonderful things! <3

[iamadequate1]

Black Pete vs Izzy (Pt 1)

I've long thought that Izzy and Black Pete are analogous like Prince Ricky and Stede. They have surface level similarities, but there is an undercurrent that sends their characters in wildly different directions. The mood has struck me to do a painstaking comparison of the two!

Starting disclaimer: Mind the "Izzy Critical" tag for realsy. I was not charmed by Izzy in S2, and I firmly view him as an antagonist all the way through. I also love Black Pete, though, and forgive all his sins.

This is going to be long and messy, but it is mine. I used to have it in one large post, but now I'm going to break this up into at least three separate posts. I have about 12 points, and it's gonna be a surprise how this develops. Let's begin!

#1: Pete and Izzy are both introduced as expressing displeasure in Stede's style of piracy

Everyone who isn't Ed seems to think poorly of Stede's pirate skills when they first meet him, but Pete and Izzy seem to be unique in that their character introductions in the series is them being most vocal about it.

Pete introduces the "real pirate" view of Stede before Stede's onscreen introduction. He gives us the first conversation of the series, and it is not flattering!

Pete: Fuck this! I'm out. Crew: Hey! Oluwande: What're you doin'? Pete: I didn't sign up to play cards. Weeks we've been out here with nothing to show for it. I should have... 20 kills by now, at least.

First of all, "nothing to show for it", and the screen is focused on Lucius. Petey, you gain a hubby from this, but you just don't know it yet!

Anyway, Pete's introducing right away that Stede is not up to real pirate captain standards when viewed by outsiders. After their first (and truly epic) raid, Pete is the first one to clearly criticize Stede:

Stede: Here it is: the spoils of battle! Woo-hoo. Congratulations on today's raid. I do have some notes, though. Uh, opening speech went well. Very inspiring. Uh, oh yes, I guess the big note is more energy! We're swashbuckling, we're looting. Let's have fun with it. Pete: Stealing a plant is hardly swashbuckling.

Like Pete, Izzy's very first scene in the series, he's not at all impressed with the Eccentric Pirate Bonnet and his savage, insane, vengeful pirate horde.

Izzy (also talking to historical Israel Hands): What kind of fuckin' idiot runs his ship aground? And this lot managed to take English officers hostage.

As a bonus, Izzy's disdain for Stede extends to Stede's entire crew! Upon meeting the entire crew in 1x4, we get Izzy's assessment to Ed:

Ed: Let's get to it. What've we got here? Izzy: Well, the ship sustained some damage in the crossfire, and the crew's completely useless, bottom of the barrel.

When Izzy is forced to partake in the teaching raid at the beginning of the next episode, he says:

Izzy: Crew of Revenge, you are not to engage. You are simply here to observe how real pirates function in the real world. Pete: Uh, we are also real pirates in the real world, so.

Yes, Petey, stand up for yourself! He was the "real pirate" in the pilot, but as the first season moved into its second act, the show starts to demonstrate more of how The Revenge is an anomaly in the pirate world even with the character who is the "real pirate" at the start. (Also, weird that we don't see Izzy on the raid that directly follows! How were they supposed to learn??)

#2: Pete and Izzy start as anti-soft

They both start the series with tinges (to very different degrees) of toxic masculinity: a push to being "manly" and dominant, minimizing emotional vulnerability, derision of the feminine or "weak." Nigel is the beginning example of this in the series as he calls Stede weak and mocks him picking flowers. On the crew side of the cast, Pete and Izzy are the ones who display these traits the strongest.

In the first episode, Pete is the most disdainful of Stede's super sweet flag activity, using misogynistic language.

Stede: Now, each of you will create a flag. And we'll vote for the best one, and that will be the official flag for The Revenge. Pete: I'm not fuckin' sewing. That's women's work. Stede: Oh, Black Pete, come on now. You know that's not true.

After their encounter with the British in the same episode, he makes disparaging remarks about a soft approach when attempting to fool the officers:

Roach: It's always the quiet ones. Frenchie: I thought that was fairly badass. Swede: You got to admit, he pulled it off. Pete: Pulled what off? Making us dress up like a bunch of fancy boys?

He doesn't make any comments as aggressively anti-femme after the pilot, but as we move along, we see him in a tender scene at the end of 1x6 when he gives Lucius the wooden finger and confesses that this feelings are deeper than a quick hookup:

Pete: So, uh, listen, I, I thought I was going to lose you. Lucius: Oh, yeah. Well, you nearly did 'cause I had a really bad infection, so. Pete: Exactly. And, uh, and, death, you know, I'm used to death, but, um, but not, um, your death. Uh, so anyway, I, uh, made this for you. It looks like a thumb, but it's a finger. I whittled it. It's, it's dumb. You don't have to wear it. Kiss: *happens, awwww* Lucius: I love it, and I didn't know you whittled. Pete: There's a lot you don't know about me... actually, that's kind of it.

At this point, we had seen Stede and Ed open up about some of their insecurities (see: Ed's bathtub confession just before this, or Stede talking to the therapist in 1x2), but this is the first scene we get a character confessing their feelings about someone to that someone in series. It's scary, it's vulnerable, and even though it's couched in violent language, it's very soft. It's also the round about confession phrasing similar to what we have with Oluwande to Jim in 1x7 or Ed to Stede in 1x9. Pete in the pilot would not have believably played this scene.

Pete progresses through the season, but in the last episode of the first season, instead of shaming him, Pete claps and makes (awkward) supportive comments to Ed's breakup song and even willingly dresses up as a "fancy boy" in the resulting talent show.

He's trying! Going into Season 2, he doesn't have a reaction at all to a woman (Zheng) calling him soft, and he just rolls with it.

Izzy, on the other hand, keeps his gendered insults throughout S1. In 1x4, we get "I'm not dying. Not for that ponce and not for you." In the next episode, we walks in on Lucius and Pete having a hookup with Wee John in the room taking a nap. He lashes out at all of them, but...

Izzy: You're all getting specific duties. Lucius: No thanks, Iggy. I only take orders from my Captain. Izzy: My name is Mr. Hands, First Mate Hands, or God as far as you're concerned, and I've got just the job for you... bitch.

Sure, it's funny in a pathetic way (the tagged on ineffective "bitch" is a big lol for me), but he ignores the disrespect Pete and Wee John give him and targets the most feminine one in the room and tosses in a "bitch" for good measure. In the end, Izzy tries to shame Lucius for being a "seductress," and it backfires as Lucius easily makes a fool of him. Izzy used the gendered insults ("bitch", "seductress", whatever that Oh Daddy thing was) as a power move, and it failed.

The next episode, he's calling Stede Ed's "pet" since they're developing a healthy friendship, and he makes sure to bring up Ed's past words re: pets that Ed is now "weak," what is a horrible, horrible thing.

This derision against the soft/weak/femme culminates in the S1 finale with Izzy's threats against Ed.

Izzy: I'm going to speak plainly. Ed: Wonderful. You know we share our thoughts on this ship. Izzy: I should've let the English kill you. This, whatever it is that you've become, is a fate worse than death. Ed: Well, I am still Blackbeard, so. Izzy: No. This, this is Blackbeard. Not some namby-pamby in a silk gown pining for his boyfriend.

(This show is awesome. The Blackbeard caricature from 1x4 has no face, but the one in 1x10 has a face and a lighthouse beside him.) Anyway, Ed is showing human emotions at having lost love, so Ed is ruined in Izzy's eyes. As mentioned above, Pete at this time was supportive of Ed (to the extent he can give), but his character mirror buddy is doing the opposite.

The beginning of this outburst feeds into the theme that will keep coming up with how deceptive and self serving Izzy is: the English were there because Izzy called them on Ed and his boyfriend. Izzy was already in the process of punishing Ed for being "weak" and having a "pet," and he thought Ed should have been punished far more harshly because he didn't immediately behave how Izzy wanted him to. The ship and crew weren't in danger from Ed and Stede sailing the seas happily, but they were in danger from Izzy. "Let the English," like he was a protector instead of the one that led them to The Revenge in the first place.

In this mocking, Izzy also continues with the derisive language. "Namby-pamby" by itself isn't a crime, but it is the same loaded language that Izzy used throughout the season, and "pining for his boyfriend" is said in a cruel mockery of the deep heartbreak Ed was going through. Ed was mourning the loss of an entire life he wanted, not the loss of a silly puppet he could scamper through meadows with when the mood struck. Izzy minimized these deep emotions so he could keep his control.

Izzy and Pete both began the season as angry against the softness, the weakness, that Stede was bringing into their worlds, but Pete dropped it much more quickly, while Izzy doubled down to the extreme. Pete got the soft affection confession, while Izzy angrily lashed out at someone having soft affection at all.

I should add as the last Pete and Izzy parallel that Izzy did also have his "fancy boy" moment in 2x6, but it felt more like a farewell for Con O'Neill than something that was organic or meaningful around Izzy. It's a parallel nontheless!

This is continued in Part 2!

Preview: They both wanted Stede dead at certain points! They both have a thing for the Legend of Blackbeard! They both are terrible pirates! Tune in next time. Same bat time, same bath channel!

Series: Part 1, Part 2, Buttons tangent, Part 3, S2 Izzy reaction GIF

[rhoorl]

✏️ WIP Update ✏️

Thank you @trulybetty for the tag!

So, I am writing a few different things at the same time (why? I don't know). But I have a couple of different snippets below. I'm not sure when I'll get around to publishing things. I hoped to use these last couple of weeks of the year to try and get ahead in my fics, but work and life have been busy. Anyways, more stuff below the cut:

Delta Landscaping - Episode 12 snippet featuring Tio Frankie

“Hey Frank, I’m gonna run out while Vale is in the shower, gonna pick up some donuts. Maybe it will cheer up Antonio before you leave,” Alyssa pouted as she grabbed her crossbody and keys. “The kids are really going to miss you.”  Frankie sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter, “I know. I’m gonna miss them too. We have to get you all out to Florida soon.” “I’d like that. We all would,” she walked over and patted her brother-in-law on the arm with a tight smile. “Ok, I’ll be back. Neither of them should wake up for a while so you can relax for a bit. Got everything packed?” “Ha, thanks Lys. Yeah, I’m all set.” He turned and opened the cabinet to pull out a mug and start brewing some coffee. He was about to sit on the couch and play a game on his phone when he heard crying. It wasn’t like Leia’s crying, it was a bit more muffled. Walking down the hallway he still heard the water running in Valeria’s room. As he stood outside Antonio’s door, he heard it. Softly opening the door, he saw Antonio sitting in his bed with his back to the door, huddled over and crying.

Working Title - Dieter Bravo Ch. 18 snippet

As you all walked through the lobby and back toward the elevators you heard a familiar face call out your name. Turning around you see Indy and Sam walking towards you, arm in arm, and all smiles.  “B!” Indy squealed, dropping Sam’s hand and running toward you to give you a big hug.  “Hey Ind, you look like you had a good time,” you pulled back with a smirk. “Very,” she looked you up and down and then quickly back to Dieter who greeted Sam with a handshake. “Looks like you did too huh?” She whispered, giggling when you gave her a quick nod. “Ah, Indy! How was our trip?” Rhys came up behind you.  “Great, Rhys. You seem in a good mood, what’s up?” “Ah, actually, can I talk to you. Both of you?” He motioned toward the hallway. “Uh, you’re being weird but ok,” she shrugged and headed off.  As he led you away, you turned around and gave DIeter a small smile which he reciprocated along with a wave.

Turbulence Part Two - Frankie one-shot which turned into a two-parter (or more?)

“Hmm. Interesting. You’ll have to tell your aunt I said hello,” he winked. “So, who’s your friend,” he motioned over to Frankie. “Oh, him? He’s my husband,” I said matter-of-factly. Apparently, I was more convincing than I gave myself credit for because Mac’s eyes bulged out of his head. I could hear the soft chuckles coming from Frankie. “I’m just kidding. But he did play my husband for a hot second. There was a creep on the plane trying to sit next to me and Frankie here saved the day,” I looked over to him with a wink. If I didn’t know better it looked like Frankie was blushing a bit. He brought his hand to the back of his neck and scratched his neck, ruffling the curls that poked out from under his cap. 

Pickled Peña - Just a little tease. I'm excited to see what everyone does with this writing challenge.

But the “old man” still had it and managed to pull the glances of several women at the bar, including the bartender who had practically eye fucked him all night. That's part of the reason why he lost track of time. She decided to spend her break with him in a bathroom. Coincidentally, buried inside this woman was how he rang in the new year.  Back in his car, he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palm and sighed. He knew he was about to be read the riot act and all he wanted to do was go to sleep, already knowing he was about to have the worst hangover.

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

WELCOME BACK!!! That’s right fellow humans, it’s the second episode of

Bedtime Stories With PCE

And man did I enjoy writing this one, my sweet boys, Stan with the broken ribs and struggling with being hurt for the first time since running dry, his super awesome sponsor, Kyle w the solutions, Moose being the best lil cat ever, just!!!!! And this one is really important to me, because it is SMACK DAB in the middle of Broken Bottles From Apartment 2 after our beloved vet tech Stan gets kicked by a scared horse at work, setting the ball rolling for the rest of that story. Essentially I wanted to address more of his mentality following that incident, and to have y’all meet his AA sponsor! Iconic. Here’s

•coconut yogurt•

“Jesus, dude, that looks bad.”

“I’m-“ Stan cut off with a sharp *schh* as Kyle helped him the rest of the way out of his scrub shirt. “Fuck, I’m okay.”

Breathing fucking hurt. More than that, he was seriously bummed that not only was he on bed rest for two weeks (something that his partner would no doubt enforce with an iron fist), but he was gonna be stuck to paperwork once he could finally go back to work. And it wasn’t like he could quell the boredom by slipping away to the clinic for a few hours while Kyle was at his own job, because Wendy ran the front office and would not hesitate to rat him out.

“Baby, they’re only a little cracked.”

Kyle rolled his eyes and carefully helped him ease to a more comfortable laying position on the couch, gently resting one of the big ice packs they always kept on hand over his side. “Where’s your discharge shit?”

“Front pocket,” he muttered.

Kyle grabbed the papers and scanned them quickly. “Hairline fractures… bone bruising, sweetheart, how on earth are you breathing?”

“Carefully?” His partner didn’t seem to like that response. “Ky, I’m okay. You know how much worse it could’ve been?”

“YES! Yes, I do, Stan! Don’t fucking-“ his face softened. “Don’t smile like that about broken ribs, dude.”

“I’m not smiling about that; I’m smiling about you.”

“You’re hopeless,” Kyle laughed. “The hell am I supposed to do with your hopeless romantic ass when you say sappy bullshit?”

Stan might’ve been a little foggy from the pain. Maybe. “Aww, babe, C’mere,” he struggled to open his arms, which was annoying, yeah, but he wanted to hold Kyle.

“Dude, I am SO not laying on you.”

“Just a little?”

“No.”

Kyle went to read the paperwork again, fully ignoring Stan’s efforts to get cuddled. “Babe…”

“Your prescription should be ready, dude.” Kyle knelt down to kiss him. “Gonna be good if I’m gone for a few?”

Stan pouted, knowing damn well he was being dramatic, but not caring. “I don’t want it.”

“We went over this, sweetheart. You had a problem with alcohol, not pills. Is it just because you don’t like taking stuff anyway?”

“…yeah.”

“Okay.” Kyle kissed him again. “You’re sure?”

Honestly, he wasn’t. There were a lot of feelings coming up right now. Kyle noticed, because of course he did. “Stan, I know that face.”

Against his will, tears started trailing from the corners of his eyes.

“Oh, dude, I know.” Kyle took Stan’s face in his hands. “Look, I really don’t want you to hurt, okay? I know you’re emotional right now. I’ll give you your meds when you need them, and you don’t need to think about it. I can ask the pharmacy about the info too. Hon, we’re gonna know exactly what you’re taking, and you’ll be just fine.”

“I- I always heal fast.”

“You do,” Kyle assured him. “And there’s nothing wrong with needing a little help, okay?”

“Uh huh.” Yeah, he would call his sponsor. He needed to talk this out, with someone who got it. Kyle understood for the most part; he literally had a degree in psychology and had been firsthand through an eating disorder, which was its own form of addiction, but, well, specifics. “I’m- *hic*- gonna text Mark, maybe zoom into tonight’s meeting.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Kyle rose and ran his hand through Stan’s hair. “Ten minutes, hopefully.” He glanced at the corner and laughed. “Oh, poor thing doesn’t know what to do! It’s okay, Moose, c’mere, keep your dad company.”

Their cat slowly crept up to the couch, perching on the arm like a sentinel and making a cute little “mrrmm”.

“Good boy.” Kyle spun his keys once around his finger, and put on a serious face, staring down at Stan with one eyebrow raised. “Now, don’t you move.”

“Just stay where I can see you douse the lights.”

Kyle laughed. “You’re incredibly lame. I’ll be right back.”

That laughter seriously helped so much. “Okay, dude, you know where to find me.”

Moose had started purring, asleep next to him by the time Stan worked up the motivation to get his phone and send Mark a “yo I got the fuck kicked out of me by a horse I won’t be there tonight”. The old man immediately called him.

“Hey,” Stan answered, trying not to laugh at how fast that call was, because he knew that would feel awful.

“The hell do you mean, “hey”, Superman? How’d you get kicked by a damn horse?”

“Oh, you know.” Just hearing his sponsor’s voice helped. Some of the older crowd at AA had taken to calling him “Superman” too, which was objectively funny, and also comforting to hear, especially right now, when he was feeling vulnerable. “Went to give him an antibiotic shot, he got scared and bucked around, broke my ribs.”

“Christ.” He could practically hear Mark rolling his eyes through the phone. “Leave it to you. How ya doin’ with all of that? Gonna be able to come chair tomorrow?”

Judging by how much he was hurting, definitely not, even if Kyle would let him leave the apartment. “I was thinking I’d Zoom in. Will you, uh, do you think that’d work?”

Mark chuckled. “Well, I don’t know much about the video callin’ you young folks do, but I’ll figure it out. Might need ta get Laura to help me. She’s good with technology.”

Laura was a woman even older than Mark, who was not good with technology. Oh yeah, this was gonna be fun.

“Seriously though, kid, are you okay?”

Stan sighed. “It’s- I’m nervous,” he admitted. “About the feelings this is gonna bring up. We’ve talked about my coping mechanisms before, like how I like to move, when I start feeling down, instead of drinking? But I…”

“You can’t go for a hike or work out with busted ribs,” Mark finished. “I know being injured, havin’ to stay put, that’s a trigger for you. Like the bender you told me about in high school, after you broke your arm.”

“Yeah…” Not even Kyle knew how bad he had spiraled that time. He knew it had been bad, but not to the extent that it had gotten to. Getting hurt because of something he loved, combined with the timing and completely changing his career path senior year, all of that had led to a full depressive episode, complete with binge drinking and attempting to cut his cast off with bolt cutters. “I still could’ve been scouted in the spring,” he muttered dejectedly.

“But you chose to quit football,” Mark reminded him. “You’ve said you don’t regret that. You remember why you don’t regret it?”

Reaching up to pet his cat, the little creature who had been the driving force to him actually applying his degree, Stan was reminded that he really did like how his life was turning out.

“Yeah. I’m where I’m supposed to be, right?”

“Not for me to say, Superman,” Mark said. “You’re a damn good vet, and gettin’ hurt because of your job happens.” The smile was clear in his voice. “You’re more worried about the horse, ain’t ya?”

Stan once again had to force himself not to laugh. “Dude, he was scared. I was literally coming at him with a needle.”

“And what would you do if you were in his horseshoes?”

“Mark, dude, please don’t make jokes, laughing hurts like a bitch.” He checked the time. Kyle would be back home any minute. “Same thing, though. Ky’s gonna be on my ass about painkillers. That’s… uh, kinda why I needed to talk.”

“Hmm. I gotcha. You’re worried about the addiction potential? Combined with being home alone until you go back to work?”

Hit the nail on the head. Stan nodded, then remembered that Mark couldn’t see him. “Pretty much. I’m just… I haven’t been hurt this bad, since running dry. I’m not sure what to do to distract myself, honestly.”

“Alright.” Mark could be pretty straightforward, when it came to a course of action, a lot like Kyle. “You like them video games, right? And reading your fantasy books? Bet you got one downloaded on your phone right now.”

As a matter of fact, he did. “Uh, yeah, Atherton, I think”

“I don’t know what the hell that is, but you catch my drift?”

Moose had moved down to drape over him like a scarf, warm and little and soft. Sweet little guy; he always took care of his dads. And Stan had a support system. He’d be okay. “I’m picking up what you’re putting down, dude,” he said into the phone. “Distractions that aren’t physical, but keep me engaged, right?”

“And bingo was his name-o,” Mark confirmed. “Good to think of some that you can do when you’re my age, anyway. You ain’t gonna be Superman forever, right?”

“Dude-“ Stan heard the security door open, finally. Kyle.

Mark interrupted. “I know you got that whole thing about age, kid, sorry. I know you’re strugglin’ so how’s about we just focus on today. That boyfriend of yours taking care of ya?”

“Mhm. I’m pretty sure he just got home.” Yeah, definitely, because Stan could hear the voice of Sheila Broflovski through the door, and Kyle probably didn’t even have her on speaker. “Yeah, he’s home, and on the phone with his mom.”

“Uh oh,” Mark laughed. He had heard many a tale. “She’s gonna give you an earful. I’ll let ya go, then. You can call me anytime, okay? It works if you work it.”

“It works if you work it,” Stan repeated. “Thanks, dude. I’ll probably skip tonight, but I’ll call into the meeting tomorrow, okay?”

“Gotcha. Tell Kyle and y’all’s critter I say hi.”

“Will do.”

Right as he ended the call, Kyle burst in, arms full of Walgreens bags and his phone sandwiched between his ear and shoulder, looking hilariously frazzled. “Oh my GOD, Ma, look okay, he is literally right here just- OKAY, Jesus, yes I’m putting him on-“ he gave Stan an expression that clearly was asking if he was up for this. Stan nodded and grabbed the phone so Kyle could get everything set down.

“I’m here.”

“STANLEY!!! Are you okay?! Oh my GOODNESS I can absolutely drive up- do you need anything?! Have you told Sharon?”

Kyle mouthed “don’t blame me”. Stan shifted a little. He’d been talking a lot for the past half hour and he was actually starting to have trouble catching his breath. “No ma’am, I- wait, how did you find out?”

“Your friend Bebe’s gossip list! She posted to Facebook and said “a certain vet got kicked by a horse” and I just KNEW IT WAS YOU! Kyle said he was picking up your medication?”

“Fuckin-“ Kyle took the phone back. “Ma, okay, I’ve got him. I’m going to take care of him and- Ma. I’m not putting Stan back on the phone. It hurts him to talk. Yes, I’ll tell his mom. No, he’s on bed rest. Do you seriously think I’m letting him out of my- okay, okay, sorry, no- oh my God, I’m not making chicken noodle soup, he’s been vegetarian for twenty years, Ma. Alright. We love you too. Christ, yes, I’m eating. Please don’t start right now. Alright. Yes. We got it. Okay. I’ll keep you updated. Yeah, love you. Bye.”

Kyle slumped over the kitchen island, groaning. “If you say anything about me being exactly like my mother, I’m gonna be super annoying and not run interference next time she calls.”

“Pretty sure you’re not beating the Sheila allegations, baby.”

“Ughhhhh.”

Stan reached his hand backwards, eyes closed, waiting for his partner to take it. “Talked to Mark.”

Kyle took his hand, kneeling by the couch and kissing his forehead. “Good, sweetheart. Do you think you’re okay to get some medicine in you? I know it hurts.”

He was always so thoughtful, so gentle with him, and not in a condescending way, either. No wonder Kyle was so good at his job. He could handle a grown ass man emotional over broken bones; angsty preteens were probably a cakewalk to him.

Stan bypassed the cat across his chest, lifting the ice pack from his lower torso. “How’s it looking?”

“Oh, honey.” Kyle sounded genuinely distressed, and Stan opened his eyes to see his partner actually genuinely distressed. “Stan, I can see the hoof print!”

“…damn.”

“Jesus, dude, you poor thing. ” He stood back up and grabbed the prescription bag from the counter, along with a snack sized yogurt from one of the bags. “Solution time.”

“I’m listening.” He’d take just about any idea. It hurt.

“Here’s what I’m thinking. I got a few things of that coconut yogurt you like. I checked with the pharmacist and she said we can crush up your painkillers into it if you want, if you’re not feeling the swallowing pills. I can keep up with your dosage schedule so you don’t need to think about it.” He tilted Stan’s face up to make sure they were seeing eye to eye. “But if you want to take them less often and stick to ice and over the counters, that’s okay. I’ll handle the thinking about shit, and you handle the taking it easy.”

Stan eyed the bottle. “Are they gonna make me sleepy?” The thought scared him.

“Oh, dude.” Kyle could strategize incredibly, though. “We can start with half, okay? It isn’t likely that they’ll knock you out, sweetheart. You’re not a small guy, and I asked. Dosage isn’t high. And you say the word; we work something else out. First priority is keeping you comfortable so you can heal, okay? Does that help?”

“I’m gonna be okay.”

“Yeah, you are,” Kyle assured him. “I’m right here, you know how to deal with this, and you’ll be better before you know it. Now, some meds and I’ll help you upstairs? We can take a nap? I’ll be right there, dude. Keep you from moving around too much.”

He knew damn well Kyle wouldn’t be sleeping a wink. But he nodded. “You’re for real gonna feed me my painkillers in yogurt like I’m a puppy?”

Kyle grinned. “Whatever works.” He reached over to pet Moose. “Whatcha think, young nastyman? Do I have good plans or what?”

Stan slowly sat up, an arm around his midsection and definitely not comfortable, but that was alright. Pretty soon he’d be able to breathe a little better. “What would I do without you, Ky?”

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: SEASON 3, EPISODE 2: HAUNTED LEG-TUMBLR IS HUNGIE AND KEEPS EATING MY POSTS

The Netflix synopses (synopseses? Synposi? Where are you, Jess Mariano? You're my only hope) made this episode seem like it was going to be heavily En-Crusty'd (Christopher focused) but then the lovely @frazzledsoul told me that in this episode Rory takes Christopher to school (metaphorically) and this is also the episode where Jess takes RORY down a peg in a GLORIOUS confrontation at Doose's Market. If there's one thing I love seeing in Gilmore GIrls it's a good peg lowering. In fact, it gives me such immense satisfaction to see Rory in particular get taken down a peg that the three times Dean does it to her are the only times I actually side with Dean. Let the Notch-Taking-Down Party commence. But first....Happy 18th birthday, Jess! You're legal, mister! I am solidly and forever in the Late August/ Early September Birthday Camp (I have my reasons) and we're already there on the show! It's been almost a year since he arrived in Stars Hollow as a 17 year old! I'm gonna make it easy and say it was September 1st.

Now you can visit the strip club, and buy porn and cigarettes legally! You're a man now! (well, at least you could buy cigarettes at 18 years old 20 years ago. It's 21 now). Episode begins with Emily still being predictably salty about last week's FND, where Lorelai snuck out of the house while her parents were fighting over her breakup with Crusty.

Don't listen to her. You do can do whatever you want, even while you're on the clock. My little shmushkins. My apple dumpling. My peach tart. My banana muffin. My jelly donut. You're gonna make a bazillion dollars with your books some day and show em all. *pinches his cheeks* Lorelai is coming down with an illness which I shall diagnose as mononucleosis (aka the kissing disease) that she contracted from making out with Dean Forrester.

Lorelai has no qualms about leaving the house to eat out every single day in a crowded diner and spread her germs all over town, instead of keeping her ass in bed, I guess. She's also incapable of purchasing and opening a can of soup and dumping it in a pot on the stove (or hell, even sticking it in the microwave) so she wakes up each day and chooses to be a Disease Vector. If she wasn't (presumably) still married to Luke in 2020 to cook her meals for her at home I don't know how she survived the pandemic. Luke: You know what helps a cold? A healthy immune system. You know how to get a healthy system? By not eating crap and blowing out your brain cells with coffee. Eat a vegetable now and then or some high fiber cereal. At least eat the carrots in the soup? Three minutes in and he's already Insulting Lorelai (while, uh, also insulting himself at the same time?) Whee, I'm loving this episode already! More Peg-Lowering, please! Several people on this show are going to be HUMBLED and I am HERE for it. But why is Luke always downselling food that he puts on his own menu? I know Lorelai and Rory don't ever pay him anyway, but doesn't he want to attempt to make some money? "My food will make you fat and sick and kill your brain cells. Don't eat it. Go eat somewhere else." Or is it that he's a-okay with poisoning the rest of Stars Hollow with copious amounts of junk food but wants to spare Lorelai and Rory the same fate? One would also suppose he doesn't actually have said vegetables or fiber rich cereal on his menu in the first place (it's a fucking diner) and that would mean Lorelai would have to pour herself her own cereal at home. Perish the thought. Is Luke secretly some kind of California Hipster in denial? Would he be more at home opening some kind of vegan cafe where he serves wheat grass shots and kombucha and avacado toast, you know, all the stuff Milo Ventimiglia eats. (But Milo’s a big junk food junky too, he's a bit of a paradox, that man). What does he feed Jess, by the way? In his first appearance he was planning to stuff his already neglected and malnourished nephew full of Corn Flakes and Pop Tarts.

Grandpa here is going to live to be 115 probably, but only if you shut up, you're already sending him to an early grave.

EVERYONE STOP EATING AND TALKING. THE QUEEN HAS ARRIVED! Anyone else think its funny that Lorelai and Rory and Luke are ilke the mayors of Stars Hollow who know everything down to when the mailman's dog farts but nobody knows who Shane is, where she came from, who her family is, when she moved in, where she lives, how she ended up with Jess...ANYTHING? Nobody even seems to know her name? Silence from Miss Patty and Babette? Lane and Dean never informed Rory that Jess was never in school, that he supposedly pulled the fire alarm, stole 500 baseballs, etc etc. again, shouldn't Lane be absolutely losing her mind to spill this piping hot tea that Jess has been hooking up with some mysterious blond skankbag all summer? And Dean too, shouldn't he always be dying to tell Rory anything that would cast Jess in an unfavorable light and make her think less of him? What is with this town where they'll hold an emergency meeting because he drew on a sidewalk with some chalk but when he actually does something worth talking about, nobody wants to narc on him? They fear him, that's what it is. What is Shane's last name by the way? I made up a poll and asked you to decide on her last name and I'm currently awaiting the results, which I will use going forward.

Jess and Shane continue to give Rory Gilmore a sexual awakening so immense it could knock our fucking solar system out of alignment. That boom you just heard was Jupiter and Saturn crashing into one another from the sheer force of Rory Gilmore's quivering loins.

Tomatos Sign. I wonder how much money Jessica Kiper was paid to stick her tongue in Milo's mouth and say "Hey" and "Jess". Did she have to audition? I would do the job for free. I would keep screwing up just so the director could yell "Cut" and I could do as many takes as possible. Warner Brothers could own me for the rest of my life just for that opportunity.

Meow! All she did was say his name, lol. Someone's cranky. You know what would cure that bad mood? A good handjob from Shane (last name soon to be announced). This whole "no strings attached sexual gratification" deal that was seemingly dropped in his lap? Meh, whatever. He'll do it, but he'll be reading the entire time. Meanwhile, this is Dean waiting 5 years for Rory to put out:

(By the way, Mr. Mariano, don't ever tell a woman to "relax") Jess sighs and leaves in the middle of his shift (Lorelai should be proud), leaving his customers wondering where their pancakes are, to go have sex with Shane somewhere public and indecent, leaving Rory in their horny wake. Perhaps Jess has the intuition that the cold, clammy, looming hand of Celibacy (aka his own hand and a jumbo size bottle of lotion) will soon be upon him so he better seize these opportunities.

Love it when she says shit like this as if her boyfriend Dean Forrester is some fucking chatterbox (he'll grunt a few words as he's also a typical teenage boy like Jess and she'll go "That's So INTERESTING Dean! Do go on. I love you, little buttered croissant"), and also like she should actually expect Jess to talk around her when he knows she's going to pick on him even worse if he does have something to say.

Too late. That's hilarious- I forgot that Dean was about to show up just now and prove my point.

She's still wearing that stupid quarter on a string on her wrist. I will give this show credit for being very consistent with some of the small details like this. Every day for 2+ years straight, Alexis Bledel shows up at Wardrobe and they slap that thing on her wrist. That cup is HUGE.

Yeah. What? I could teach a comatose goldfish to say "I already ate breakfast." The hell is your point?

Oh god. It's that episode where Kirk and Lorelai go on a "Date". I do not remember how it goes but I'm gonna take a stab in the dark here and predict that it was sufficiently awkward. Honestly...Lorelai has done MUCH worse before and will continue to do much worse than Kirk. Mommy issues aside, Kirk has more redeeming qualities than Max or Crusty. Like, at least Kirk is ambitious. Lorelai is still only a few months removed from banging Crusty who wouldn't know the meaning of hard work if it bit him in the ass. I hope something bites Crusty in the ass. Like a rabid possum. Kirk...."Let's go out...In two weeks. I heard you have a cold. It takes two weeks for a virus to leave the immune system." He's also smart and would survive the pandemic. "You might be the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Outside of a filthy magazine."

It's the first day of senior year for Rory and our other Stars Hollow teens.

It's all downhill for Rory after high school.

Nobody tell her. L: I cannot go out with Kirk! R: Why not? L: He's Kirk! Poor Neurodivergent Kirk.

Fixed it.

i was about to say "What the what! Lorelai is actually pouring her own cereal?" but it's Rory wno's making her own breakfast and Lorelai is just pouring marshmallows into the bowl (who does that? That's not a thing. Here in The United States of America, there are already cereals that come with marshmallows). I mean, at least she's eating at home and "helping". Good for you for helping to feed to your chiild, Lorelai. Even if she's eschewing the (marginally) more healthy Raisin Bran in favor of Rice Krispies. I'm going to add a new feature to the ends of these posts: I call it: Things Googled While Watching GIlmore GIrls. Birthday Party Icons, How Old To Buy CIgarettes in Connecticut, Definition of Proclivities, How Many Words Can A Parrot Learn

[go-to-the-mirror]

i dont want to talk about scrutiny

WHATEVER, FINE, OKAY, WE'RE DOING SCRUTINY, OR SOMETHING, FINE, WHATEVER, WHAT EVER

i love scrutiny, i do, but in the way that i love threshold, and nothing beside remains, and seeing it through, and a guest for mr spider. meaning I really do, but I also hate it with vitriol. Not really? It's complicated. I have Some Feelings Towards it. Yep. Look this podcast makes me feel happiness and sadness and anger at the same bloody time, but it's all confused because it's overridden by being Very ADHD about it, so like, they're all rattling around in there. I hate it (affectionate), I love it (derogatory), you get it?

Anyway, y'all know how I feel about Jon already, and if you don't, it's love and only love, so uhm, yeah, let's just get on with it already, rambling and mostly rambling, attempts to set aside my undying love for the Jarchivist for like a day, etc.

@a-mag-a-day

Firstly, I'd like to draw attention to the posts I made on my instagram story about this when I was first listening to TMA, because I was Not Alright.

The first was highlighting the description of the episode: "Statement of an unknown bystander, regarding an encounter with The Archivist." "The Archivist." Not "Jonathan Sims," not "Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London," not even "Jonathan Sims, The Archivist."

Just... The Archivist.

The second was regarding the first, saying that I knew it was deserved but he should be allowed to eat a few fears. As a treat.

I didn't say anything to my partner (who you should follow by the way, they're scarandjoelenthusiast), cause I think I was still attempting to be spoiler free for vex at that point, lol. And I had no other... friends. At all. Um. Yeah.

So, onto the relisten! Oh boy.

MARTIN Ah, alright, did he... did he look like he hadn't slept in about a week?

I absolutely love that Jon's descriptors are looking like shit, and looking like Jesus. That's just amazing.

Also uh,,, why did Martin immediately go to Jon? Hm..

Everything, every bit of light or sound or, or anything that changed, that said time was passing. There was nothing. Before that I never really thought about time, you know? But now… Yeah.

that must have been terrifying

So, it, it took a long time to get over that. I mean, that’s not weird, right? I me— It was a bad time. You know, it, it stays with you. Was signed off, what, I think about six months with the injuries. Had pretty bad, uh, nightmares, claustrophobia, I mean, obviously, right? But, uh, but, but I did my physio, and, you know, talked, talked with the counsellor they gave me. Look, I did everything I was supposed to and, and yeah, I… I guess I was fine. You know, once the bruises were gone I— Well, it’s easy to blame memory, right? You know, ha-hallucination, coincidence, all the classic shite you tell yourself. Life went back to normal. I— I was fine. Until about two weeks ago.

Jesus fucking christ, Jon. She was fine, trying to get over it, Floyd was fine and that's just it, because they think they're safe, and-

She was fine, she was okay, and he took that from her, he took that from her, he made it so she couldn't be fine anymore, he made it so every god. damn. night she'd experience that again, the bastard.

There’s this creep in, in the corner. Your guy. He just… keeps staring at me, like, like properly staring. Like, it is super intense and, and real weird. Like he knows me, but I sure as hell do not know him. I— I try to ignore him, look, I just, I just read my book, and every time I look up there he is, watching me.

Girls when they realise oh yes, he's an avatar.

So… Look, I’m packing up, all done and, and I just, I just sorta turn, you know, just, just to check if he’s still there and he is standing right behind— Like, like a few inches from my face. Look, it’s messed up!

That's??? Terrifying?? I mean, look, like, my sisters jump whenever I quietly stand behind them and stare intently, and they're my sisters, they know me, they know I only joke about stabbing them with a knife, Jon, that's freaky, stop being freaky, you have trauma at home. Go eat a stale trauma for gods sake.

Like, okay Mr. "I don't think it's me doing it." Who sat at a bloody coffee shop for an hour.

I. Understand. That there is a certain. Need. To cause and feed on fear. As an Avatar/Monster/Whatever. And I mean like it's pretty hard. To admit you're in the wrong for something. Even if you think you're in the wrong for other things. But like. None of this matters to Jess, to Floyd, to the three other people whose lives he ruined. He can try be better, he can never do it again, but he can't go back and fix it.

And I start to ask him, you know, what the hell, man, you know? Like— But he just starts talking. Slowly. But real intense. He says, he works here, at the, the Magnus Institute, and I say, what even is that and he says, he wants my story. He says he needs to hear what happened to me. And I— I want to tell him to jj-just go away. I want to, to, to kick him and run. But I— (long sigh) I sit down. And I start to tell him everything. About the job, about the collapse, a-about the hand. More than I told you, even, and, and as I do— it’s like I’m there again. Like I can feel it grab my ankle, th-th-that cold, dead hand and I just… I just can’t stop talking. I cannot shut up.

[ID: A blurry photo of CC!GoodTimesWithScar with his head in his hands. /End ID]

And then it was over. And he looked— He looked at me like he’d just eaten, like a perfectly cooked steak. You know what he said? He said, “Thank you.” “Thank you.” Just like that. Like, like reliving the worst parts of my whole life were just a bit of a… a favour that I’d done him. And then he left and I— I just sat there and cried for a while.

i don't know what to say im just sitting here with my head in my hands.

And he’s there the whole time, just… watching me. Watching me scream and thrash and… He’s all eyes. He’s all eyes.

I kinda want to punch him right about now, because how dare he do that to her, how dare he ruin her life just because he wanted to. Whatever, avatar, feed your god or it'll feed on you, I don't care, that's his business, not hers. She wasn't involved, she didn't have to be involved, she was fine and he took that from her, the bastard!

How dare he sit there talking about choice, how dare he feel all guilty for ruining her life, how dare he! He doesn't deserve to feel bad about it. Christ, Jon, what the fuck.

But I feel like I’m seeing him when I’m awake as well. I’ve been… I’ve been having a lot of problems since he talked to me. Since I talked to him. Since I told my... story. The, the claustrophobia, it’s back, worse than it ever was and I can’t do my job. I have these, these screaming panic attacks every time I try and— What am I supposed to do? Like, feels like, like every time I’m even slightly underground I— Can’t even go into a shop basement more without feeling that… (sniffs) hand. Every time I do, every time I get that panic just rising up my throat, I see him. He’s there. Not when I look properly, but just at the edge. The corner of my eye. Then he’s gone.

(MAG 142 - Scrutiny)

Since then, she said she’d been seeing that woman everywhere she went.

(MAG 6 - Worm Sex Episode Squirm)

✨ becoming what you hated ✨

No, but I have a lot of feelings on becoming a fear entity Avatar and the cycle of violence. Of how Avatars often only became Avatars because of previous trauma, because they had no other options. Of how they often don't see themselves as victims, for example Annabelle Cane describing herself as manipulative, even as she was a child trying to cope in an abusive household. And I think that Jon being like Jane Prentiss, following his victims like her, starting to understand her... that ties into those themes. I love this podcast <3.

MARTIN No, no, it’s— Thank you. I just— [Agitated clatter] For god’s sake, can he not just stay safe for like, like ten minutes?! DAISY I don’t think that’s an option for him anymore. MARTIN Yeah, I mean, sure. But he just… he doesn’t think! He always just immediately charges straight off into danger with whatever, whatever half-arsed plan occurs to him at the time! I don’t get it! DAISY What’s to get? MARTIN What? DAISY I, I mean, it’s pretty standard stuff. MARTIN What? DAISY Used to see it all the time back in the force, especially with the sectioned. Not like there’s ‘normal’ trauma, you know, but it’s pretty common. The most important thing becomes control, engaging on your own terms. Even when it’s stupid or dangerous. Anything to not feel helpless. MARTIN Oh god… DAISY And of course for Jon’s there’s survivor’s guilt in there too. He thinks he’s not human. Makes him very… self-destructive.

PODDED CAST!!

Thank you, Jonny.

Like hgnhhrnhhnr <3 yep. mhhnm there's another post that talks about the meaning of putting that in with scrutiny, I'll tag a mag a day in that.

Like! Aa! Thank you. Don't really have much to add, I mean I said a bunch in other episodes rambles, specifically the MAG 131, 132, and 136 ones.

I mean you know, the whole spider thing, a bit of his self-blame about... the end of season 4... could come from... if he's not to blame, then he didn't have any control, then all of this was out of his control. If he couldn't stop it, if Jimmy Magma's plan was that good then... well, then he was helpless, and there's nothing worse than being helpless.

in conclusion, disregard the above Jon did nothing wrong- no, he's... he doesn't get to be forgiven by Jess, by Floyd, by the others, not unless they choose to forgive him. But he can work on doing better, you know? He's allowed to not wallow in guilt the whole time, he's not irredeemable, he just did bad things -- bad things he can't fix -- but he can work on never doing those bad things again, on mitigating the damage as much as he can. He's not a bad person, just a person who did bad things.

I dunno, I'm more interested in the metaphysics side of philosophy. You know there's a branch of philosophy called metametaphysics? I think it's so funny.