#but then I unpacked all that old trauma with my mom and it’s like I was knocked back to rock fucking bottom and I haven’t been able to pull

[ranger-kellyn]

.

[mellori]

Hey so was ascrolling the locked tomb tag and saw a thing.

Everybody knows the list of reasons Kiriona's a big sad gay b-word when she shows up in Nona the Ninth. We've got:

• Hey so I just woke up in the corpse of my crush who sure seemed like she reciprocated my confession of love right up until she rejected my mortal sacrifice and decided she never wanted to think about me ever again

• My dead mom doesn't love me, actually, she passionately hated me and found the experience of having me both completely repugnant and horribly inconvenient

• The one thing I thought she'd given me across the veil of death i.e. my name - that was petty revenge against the guy who killed her and has nothing to do with me

• The name she did bother to give me was a not particularly funny joke about her plan to kill me immediately after my birth

• Also she's fr dead now I don't get to confront her about/unpack any of this

• Whoops I'm dead again. Totally speedran "fail my sworn oath to protect Harrowhark" this time let's relive that particular trauma

• Back again sorta and now my body is a horrific mockery of humanity meant to protect and preserve me forever because my Dad definitely asked before he did this

• Dad gave me everything I ever told myself that I wanted so now I can never earn any of it and all of it sucks actually, thanks pops

• Also he's currently in a depression spiral because his polycule imploded with a bunch of attempted and/or successful murders

• Also he's 10,000 years old and completely incapable of relating to me in any way

• Sudden onset proximity to power and influence means I can never trust anybody genuinely wants to be my friend and/or is actually attracted to me and not just sucking up to the new crown prince and heir

• Ianthe

I've read or listened to these books at least five times each and totally missed:

• Dad sure is famous for being the only person capable of performing a ressurection and he hasn't bothered to do that to me

[dancingtotuyo]

Scathed 9 (Javier Peña)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: anxiety, trauma, self worth, smoking, idiot(s) in love?, references to the drug war and colombia, Narcos season 3 spoilers

Notes: shoutout to my forever beta reader @janaispunk for looking this bad boy over!

Words: 2923

Series Master List | Author Master List

Journal Entry August 4, 1994  Dear Javi,

There are things I can’t bring myself to say. Even out on the back patio under the safety of the stars, I can’t tell you how scared I am that you won’t come back. It terrifies me. I did life without you for so long, but I’m not sure how to go back to life without you in it. We’re going to miss you alot. 

You won’t ever see this, but please come back. 

This time would be different. It ran on repeat in Javier’s head as he stared out the large windows that overlooked the buzzing city. New position, new apartment, new drug cartel. This time had to be different; he couldn’t get lost in it like last time. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to start back at the DEA in the morning.

He unpacked his last suit case, having put it off since his arrival Friday night, the one that contained his few treasures in life. Framed photos from Chucho: the ranch, the two of them, an old family photo with his mom. A crayon drawing from Alejandra: both of them on horses. A bottle of whiskey from Jaime. A journal from Emily. 

“To write down all those thoughts racing through your mind. Even the ugly ones,” she had told him.

He set it on the end table next to the family photo with his mom. This time would be different. A silent oath. 

Alejandra’s drawing went on the fridge, the bottle of whisky on the counter, and the other pictures on the bookshelf. He looked around. It all felt scattered, empty, nothing like the apartment he’d made for himself last time. 

The familiar urge to go out, drink a couple of fingers of whiskey, and take a warm body home crept in. He fought against it. He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. This time had to be different. He’s promised himself over and over again it would be. He promised his dad he would call and write. He told Emily the same… 

Could he be here and not let it consume him? Could he be soaked in it all and still talk to her? Be worthy of her friendship? Being here, he felt the sins of his past marring his hands, so real and tangible. The same hands Emily allowed to touch her, what a privilege that was. The same hands she felt safe in. 

Javier thought about all the things he used to do when these thoughts raced through his mind when he couldn’t handle the big emotions: bars, cigarettes, sex. Too many times to count. His fingers itched at his side to grab his leather jacket and go. 

He paced the length of his apartment running a hand through his messy hair. Then it caught his eye: something sticking out of the journal. He pulled it out. 

A crisp envelope with his name written neatly in the middle: Emily’s handwriting. He popped it open. Polaroid pictures. He shook his head thinking about the grief he gave her for carrying that thing everywhere, but a smile appeared on his lips. There was one of him standing in the riding rink as Ale trotted around him on Hurricane. Another taken on the patio just last week: he and the kids eagerly chowing down on popsicles before they could melt in the Texas sun. He could see the red ring around Mateo’s mouth and drip down his chin as the sun beat him. One on the small dock next to the boys and his dad, lines cast into the pond Chucho stocked on the ranch. Javier smiled. Miguelito caught the biggest bass that day. Chucho had been dumbfounded. 

He sucked in as he flipped to the last one. It was the picture Alejandra had taken at the park just after he told her he was returning to Colombia. She leaned into him, an ease rarely seen in her. He’d caught a whiff of her shampoo, followed her lead, and leaned in. His thumb rubbed over the picture. He’d put an arm over her shoulder, her hand on his knee it all looked so… peaceful, domestic even, like they were- He cut the thought off, letting the picture fall to his coffee table. 

For so many reasons, that was a bad idea. 

He padded his pockets, finding the Nicorette gum. He popped the last piece into his mouth. He should grab more on his way to work in the morning. 

The Polaroid stared back at him. He looked happy, wrinkles cutting deep around his eyes. He picked the photo back up. He had been happy that day. Happier than he could remember even as he grappled with his decision to return to Colombia. Black ink on the back grabbed his attention. Don’t forget about us, okay? Her handwriting again. Her words to him that day.

He smiled to himself. That was his friend. He wasn’t sure he’d had one of those for a long time. Sure, he and Steve got along, but Steve was back in Miami. They still talked about once a month, but the bond he felt toward this woman was different. He and Steve had been forced together. They had to trust each other. Their lives had depended on it. Javier’s life sure didn’t depend on trusting Emily, but he did. She didn’t judge him. There were still things he hadn’t told her, and vice versa, but he knew when he was ready, he could. 

Javier slipped the photo of them into his wallet. This time was different.

He grabbed the phone off the end table and called his dad. The conversation was brief. The last thing he wanted to do was run up anyone’s phone bill, but he could tell his dad was happy to hear from him. He’d rarely received communications from Javier when he was in Colombia the first time. 

His fingers hovered over the buttons as he contemplated the second call. He told her he’d call. She told him to call. He pushed past the anxiety, pressing the buttons succinctly. He had it memorized. He checked his watch. It was bath night in the Kuykendall house. He knew that, but usually, the kids were bathed and in bed by now. 

Javier smiled as he thought about the few times he’d stumbled into bath night. It was true chaos and an event, but every single person wore larger-than-life grins. It was one of the times Javier felt like he was a part of something bigger than himself, like he’d been brought into something sacred. 

“Hello?” Anna answered. He could clearly hear the laughter of children and adults in the background. 

“Hey, it’s Javier… I can call back if this is-“

“Not at all.” He felt Anna’s welcoming presence through the phone. “Emily just came out of the bathroom.”

“Bath night.” Javier chuckled. 

“Exactly,” Anna called for her stepdaughter. Javier couldn’t hear their exchange over the shouts coming from the living room. 

“Javier?”

An ache in his chest eased. “Hey, sounds like a madhouse there.”

Emily laughed and the sounds muted as if she’d shut them behind a door. “Dad seems to have extra energy to chase the kids down tonight. How is it to be back?”

“Strange.” Javier glanced out the window. The city flowed like it always did, people rushing from place to place. “I’ve got a nicer apartment this time.”

“Of course you do, Mr. DEA attaché.”

Javier chuckled. “That sounds too fancy for me.”

“You said the same thing when you bought those suits and I gave you that snazzy new haircut.”

Javier grinned, resting against the countertop. His eyes fluttered shut as he remembered the feeling of her fingers through his hair. His shirt stretched and pulled across his chest as he inhaled. “Still sounds too fancy for me.”

“You ready for your first day?”

“No.”

Her laugh crackled through the line. “Then why’d you go back.”

At that moment, Javier wondered the same thing. He’d much rather be back in Laredo chasing the kids around the living room. “I’m askin myself that same thing.”

“Then do it. Tell the DEA where to shove it and come home.”

He smiled, low chuckle pulling from his chest. “You and I both know I have unfinished business here.”

“Yeah…” Silence sat between them. He could still hear the kids in the background. Javier wracked his brain for the right things to say, but everything he wanted to say he couldn’t. “Finish it quick, okay?”

“That’s the plan.”

“And stay safe. I can’t lose one of my only friends.”

“Oh?” Javier said. He felt an easiness take over him. “What about Lorraine? I thought she was your friend.”

“I said one of, and you’re my best friend anyway.” He can hear her eyes roll. “I mean it though, we all miss you already.”

“Tell the kids I said hi, okay? I’ll call another night when there’s time to talk to them.”

“Will do.”

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I should be saying that to you.”

“Em.”

“I will. I promise,” she said. “You too, Javi.”

Journal Entry August 8, 1994 Dear Javi,

I bet you spend all day behind a desk and hate every moment of it. It makes me laugh each time I think about it. It assures me that you’re okay too. Fancier job means a safer job, right?

As his first day back came to a close, Javier felt like he’d been there for a year. When he found the sticky note with the name of a nearby bar on his desk presumably left by Neil, he told himself one drink wouldn’t hurt. This time would be different. The mantra felt almost meaningless already. Similar things had been echoed in his meetings all day. This wouldn’t be like Escobar. There would be law and order and protocol. Politics were more important than ever. The world was watching now. 

One drink and then home. That was what he told himself as he sat down at the bar, ignoring his coworkers at the corner table. Pulling off his suit coat, he motioned the bartender ordering a whiskey. He turned down Neil’s invite to join the group. The guy was too eager to kiss his ass for Javier’s liking, put him up on a pedestal for taking down Escobar as if he hadn’t been suspended at the time. 

He swallowed the whiskey as soon as the glass was set in front of him. Then, he ordered another. Javier wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but it was too long. He rubbed his thumb over the crease of his forehead trying to talk himself out of the opportunity for stress relief sitting in front of him. The group in the corner had dwindled to two. A blonde he hadn’t met and the brunette he met at the beginning. Neil had introduced her. Karen? Katherine? Katie?… Katie sounded right. 

His staring wasn’t subtle, wasn’t flirtatious like he’d used to do it. If anything, it was creepy, staring at her while thoughts raced through his head. The mantra shortened until it was only a couple words as he tried to talk himself out of it. Different. Be different. It echoed over and over in his head. 

The bar was practically empty by now. She looked up and smiled at him like he wasn’t being a creep. He didn’t return it, still deep within his own mind. 

“Pretty girl.” Javier’s head snapped around to find fucking Bill Stechner of the CIA at his side. He slid onto the stool beside him. “Displays some shaky judgment in men though.” He looked at Javier.

Javier glanced away from Bill, looking over his shoulder as if to convey his annoyance with his whole body before turning back to him. He forced the briefest tip of his lips, the closest thing to pleasantries he could summon for the man. 

As most conversations with the CIA agent do, Javier was left with a sour taste in his mouth, the innate craving for a cigarette, and his failures thrown in his face. Then, Stechner laid it all out for him, the way things would go whether Javier liked it or not. Cali’s surrender. The facade of justice for the Cali Cartel. He didn’t like it, any of it, and he wasn’t sure why he came back in the first place, or why they even needed him. The DEA didn’t. He was just a pawn in Stechner’s game. 

“Cali will serve some time,” Bill said. He doesn’t look at Javier, keeping his eyes pinned to the bartop. “Technically speaking.”

“And that’s enough for you?” 

The look that crossed Stechner’s face is something akin to a blend of annoyance and patronizing as he met Javier’s eyes. “If there were any justice in this world, Javier, you’d be in jail.”

It was only half a second before Javier averted his eyes, the shame of what he did flooding him. He wasn’t the hero everyone acted like he was. Stechner knew that. Javier kept quiet. 

“I know your guys are running an operation on Cali tonight.” Bill stood, putting enough cash on the bar to cover his and Javier’s tabs. “I can tell you this, it’ll come up double zeros.” More silence. “These guys don’t make mistakes. You try and go after the Cali bosses, all you’ll get is more bodies.” 

Stechner finished off his drink, patted Javier’s shoulder, and walked out without another word, leaving Javier with a bigger stress headache than he came in with. Try as he might, Javier couldn’t push it out of his head. He needed something, a distraction. He wouldn’t survive without one. 

Javier finished off the whiskey in front of him. He rubbed his forehead, searching for any relief. Different. It seemed quieter now, further away like his resolve was slipping. He needed to be anywhere that wasn’t here, shut off his brain.

He stared straight ahead, eyes glazing over, shining in the dim bar light as he pinched his top lip between his thumb and forefinger. Different. It felt useless, like he was bound to fail. A whisper of an oath. Maybe there was no different for him.  

It was almost instinctual, the way he glanced over, eyes meeting hers. She offered him a soft small now sitting alone at the table, cigarette held between her middle and pointer finger, like she had been waiting for him.  

“This is Peña. Leave a message.” BEEP.

“Hi Mr. Javi! It’s me, Ale. I miss you already. You should call me soon.” 

“Alejandra, who are you on the phone with?”

“Mr. Javi’s voicemail.”

“Ale, it’s expensive to call Colombia. Hand me the phone.”

“Oops.” She giggled.

A long sigh crackled over the line followed by a pause. “Hey Jav… I guess I’ve paid for the next couple of minutes, I might as well use it. I suppose you’re already working late since it’s after eight. Don’t let them work you too hard, okay? And you should still return my call.” More dead air. “It feels silly to miss you as much as I do. I feel like I haven’t talked to you in days… Oh! I got into that class I was waitlisted for. Anne is willing to work with my school schedule so I still get my hours in at work.”

“Mommy!” A voice calls out in the background as a crashing sound follows it. 

“Shit” The machine clicked off. 

Javier woke up tangled in his navy sheets with the same stress headache and a greater hankering for a cigarette than he’d had in months. Katie slept soundly on her side next to him, back facing him. Her brown hair spread out over the pillow. She hadn’t tried to cuddle, and thank god she understood what last night had been. 

Without a second though, he reached for her purse, careful not to wake the naked woman next to him as he eased into a sitting position. Relief flooded him when his fingers glided over the pack of cigarettes and lighter. 

There was no hesitation as he put the cigarette to his lips and flicked the lighter to life. The nicotine flooded his body for the first time in months. Finally, he found some relief. 

Journal Entry  August 13th, 1994 Dear Javi,

I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m sure you’re okay. Dad said there were no reports of anything happening. You’re just busy, with your first week back and all… 

Alejandra asks every morning if you called her back. Mateo asks too. I think he’s hoping for stories of chasing down bad guys. Even Miguelito asked about you. 

We all miss you so much. 

Javier played the voicemail over and over, but he couldn’t bring himself to call back. He hadn’t lasted a day into the job without reverting to old habits. He’d fooled himself into thinking things could be different, into thinking if he did this the right way, if he brought down Cali the right way, he could be worthy of her one day. 

The whiskey burned on its way down. 

Journal Entry August 15th, 1994 Javier, 

I swear if you went and got yourself killed on your first week back, I’ll never forgive you. I won’t even say any nice words at your funeral. Imagine that, your best friend holding back all the nice things about you. The world can just remember you to be the asshole you showed them.

Seriously though, signs of life would be appreciated.

…………………………………………………………………..

Taglist: @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @burntheedges @southernbe @fanyyoouu @greengirlwurld

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @weho2kcmo

[unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix]

17x03 Spoilers/Thoughts

(Not very long of a post tbh. There’s just too much to kinda unpack tho)

(TWs bc the show doesn’t really give you much, but self-harm (around 32:00) and talks of p*rn and online exploitation) I think I might make the tws italicized in my spoilers to give that heads up.

This is directed by Adam Rodriguez!

The whole case basically isn’t connected to Gold Star, I don’t think it is. There’s a mask involved now and Tara and Rossi take on the case. Rossi trying to get through the window was pretty funny tho.

Emily is off with her old neighbor (played by Paul F. Tompkins), Brian Garrity. She is trying to get him to take down some misinformation. It’s pretty funny seeing those two actually.

Also Brian gets beaten up by a group of men and Emily finds him and tries to protect him, but the police come in and see her with her gun out, so now…

Emily gets arrested and framed

I kinda barely paid attention to Tyler at this first watch but uhhh he meets a guy named Sebastian Gasper

JJ and Luke team up together but Luke is feeling absolutely guilty of what Emily and Voit told him.

Voit said from ep 2 that there is a BAU Gate, which is a site full of memes and pictures and stuff about the team. But Emily says there’s something that involves JJ in it that Luke couldn’t believe was true.

BAU p*rn. And all of it is of JJ.

JJ and Luke talk to Sydney and on their way, they talk about what’s been bothering him. It’s just so hard for him to not keep it quiet and I feel for him.

JJ talking about how good of a leader Emily is and that she knew it would be for the best anyway.

And her saying whatever Luke doesn’t tell her will be protecting her and what he does tell, she will get hurt.

JJ is aware of the BAU Gate thing since before she was a profiler, so during her liaison days. She thought it was a lot of anime on it and ridiculous stuff of the team, but something on her face the more they talked about it seems like her fear of what Luke tells her later is affecting her when she suspects it.

There’s stuff with Sydney and Voit’s daughters.

Really cute moment with Luke playing soccer which… for the sake of this being the happy thing of it all, Luke and JJ playing soccer together 🥺

Holly(?) is the one having a hard time grappling with the fact that her father is a criminal.

In one scene, she cuts herself before her mom comes in to stop her.

Sydney talks with JJ and Luke after about going into witness protection and everything they need to do.

After that…. Luke finally tells JJ.

It’s honestly better for people to watch the scenes for this upcoming storyline for JJ bc I have no other way to describe it.

But Luke tells her everything he learned from the secret, that the site was flagged by Homeland Security in 2014 (said by Emily) and Voit and his network has an updated version of it.

He tells JJ that it’s not the other agents that were on the site but just JJ.

She was the focal point of it all.

The absolute heartbreak in JJ’s whole being. Everything is just sucked out of her. And if you thought this was bad, the next scene of this is worse.

After everyone leaves the office, JJ closes the blinds to the roundtable room and checks the website for herself. It’s just…. Heartbreaking and haunting are the two words to describe it.

There’s a bunch I have on this probably on a separate post but damn CM. They really went there. And it’s the worst of the worst. (Not to compare storylines or trauma but nothing can really go beyond that)

[littlelegoman]

LMK NINJAGO CROSS OVER, BUT IT'S JUST LLOYD AND MK SWITCHING PLACES FOR A WEEK

Tang (possibly Pigsy, too): Wow, that sounds like a lot to go through as a child. And you bodily became 18 when you were 12? I'm so sorry, they shouldn't have done that to you..

Lloyd: Well-- it was to save the city--

Tang: What did that city ever do for you? I mean, your whole life is just one tragedy after another; your mother abandons you, your father is locked away, you get sent to a boarding school to make you evil and you still get bullied there. You're manipulated multiple times by adults, and sure, you tried to do that once to them, but you were a child. They were adults. That's not fair.

Lloyd: It was destiny, I had to because of the prophesy...

Tang: No, you had a choice. You didn't have to do all that, and even if you wanted to, you could've waited till you were mature enough to understand the severity of it. Your uncle trains you-- actually, he forcibly takes you, which legally would happen anyways as your only relative, but the law was never involved, not to mention you were under the impression you'd be hurt.

Tang: It's not your fault either. You were coerced into it. The prophesy never said when you had to defeat your father, right?

Lloyd: Well, I don't entirely remember....

Tang: You needed an adult who wasn't going to use you, and you never got that. You never got a childhood, and that's terrible. I'm so upset that this happened to you because no kid deserves this. I'm not completely okay with MK being the Monkie Kid; I mean, look at all the danger it's put him through - but at least he was an adult, old enough to make his own conscious choice.

Lloyd: I...

Lloyd: Thanks, mom.

Tang: It's no pro-- wait what?

MK: And you have elemental powers?! Oh, that's so cool! I don't have any of those, really. I mean, I can do a lot of things that the Monkey King can do, but I don't think controlling elements was one of them.

Zane: It is awesome, of course, but we have years of years of unpacked trauma.

MK: Same!! :D

Red Son: Your father... was okay with you becoming a hero?

Lloyd: He wasn't the best, but it's not completely his fault. The whole venom and oni thing really messed him up. He knew what he was, and he... deep down, he wanted a safe world for me, and fhst meant a world without him.

Red Son:.... I see.

Lloyd: So, uh, you want to be like your father?

Red Son: Well, of course I do! I'm not some a simple-minded peasant like Noodle Boy or Dragon Girl! My father's legacy is one to behold with pride.

Lloyd:... but?

Red Son, sighing: but my father barely recognizes my greatness; and Noodle Boy and his peasant friends do....

MK: Why is... why.. (MK, trying to talk about Garmadon)

Wu: Ah... My brother and I share Oni and Dragon blood... when he was bitten by The Great Devourer, it caused his blood to turn cold.

MK: Does that mean you can become evil too?

Wu, caught off guard: Oh. I..

Wu, sighing: Yes. That is a possibility. I trained my students the best way I knew how... I.. admit I wasn't the best

MK, smiling brightly: HAHA, yeah, you weren't!

Wu, offended:

MK: Wait-- you ABANDONED your son to an evil school?!

Misako: I-- I did.

MK: Why not send him to a normal school?! Or with Mister Wu?! If you knew he was gonna beat up his dad, wouldn't it have helped if he grew up with morals???

Lloyd: I mean no offense, Sun Wukong, but I don't know why MK still likes you.

Wukong: Honestly, I don't either

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Steph: Hey, wouldn't it be hilarious if all B's villains had backstories like the new Disney villain-centric movies?

Barbara: Explain.

Tim: Oh! I get it is like Riddler is evil because a riddle killed his mom!

Barbara: But wouldn't that make so he hated riddles?

Tim: Maybe he hated his mom? You don't know!

Duke: Or maybe he hates riddles and uses them to stop himself and protect the world for the evil he truly represents... Nah, that's stupid.

Barbara: No, no go on.

Steph: It was funny as hell.

Duke: The Riddler hating riddles was not the stupid conspiracy theory I thought I would make for Tim today.

Barbara: How many conspiracy theories did you even made for Tim?

Tim: Does the ones he made for Bernard count?

Duke: A magician never revels their secrets.

Barbara: You're not a magician.

Steph: He could be. Anyway before this ends up with someone giving Duke a box of magic tricks for begginers made for seven year olds *looks pointedly at Babs, she shrugs* my idea was that the number two died trying to save Two-Face's grandma from the other numbers.

Barbara: Okay, this one makes more sense. What about Scarecrow lost his puppie because of a horror movie?

Tim: You judge me but that means Crane would hate fear. So check mate.

Barbara: No, no, hear me out, he lost the puppie because the dog was too brave and stayed during the whole movie. If if had runned afraid it would have been fine.

Duke: My turn! I present all the books they had falled into Mad Hatter's dad killing him except somehow the Alice in Woonderland book that stayed in the shelve so he sweared to never read another book ever again?

Steph: Love it.

Cass: *was always there but hidden in the corner* Great. May I?

Duke, Tim and Steph:*surprised jump scare noises*

Babs: Please. Be our guest.

Cass: Killer Moth was raised by moths. Bruce accidentaly killed his third aunt as a child because he tried to pick it and show Alfred but was too strong.

Duke: You are a genius.

Steph: It's better than whatever official backstory he has.

Dick: *just came back from a mission* What are you guys doing?

Tim: Creating stupid rogues origin stories.

Dick: It seems fun. Let me try... huh... Oswald became Penguin because a Penguin flew through his window the moment he was considering becaming a criminal .

Damian: *was in the mission with Dick* May I try? Joker is a villain because his mother had depression and his jokes never made her happy.

Dick: Holy shit! Too heavy, lil D.

Duke: Sadge.

Tim: It looks like a soap opera plot.

Damian: I DO NOT watch soap operas with umi. SHUT UP!

Tim: Whoa there is a lot to unpack here.

Damian: Say one more word and I'll kill you Drake.

Duke: My bet is on Dami.

Cass: Bet Tim survives but barely.

Dick: Let's all calm down a bit. Maybe Joker became a villain because a mean kid said he wasn't funny.

Jason: *coming out of nowhere* What about Joker became a villain because he sucks?

Steph: That's just real life, Jay. We are trying to have fun here.

Jason: *rolls his eyes* Fine. Let me try again. All of B villains had their family killed by a bat. All of them. The same day, the same bat. Better?

Steph: Amazing!

Tim: Wait a second.

Damian: What now, Drake?

Tim: Bane has a Cruella type backstory!

Babs: *eyes getting huge* Holy shit he kindda has.

Cass: Explain.

Tim: When in the pit because a lot of irrelevant trauma things Bane had nightmares with a half bat half man creature attacking him so his solution was to crack B's spine in half.

Dick: Okay we need to make a Cruella Bane song.

Babs: Is not that close of a backstory.

Dick: So you don't want a Cruella Bane song?

Babs: Good point. I stand corrected.

[rotationalsymmetry]

My immediate thoughts on the ending of the golden enclaves (spoilers):

I'm happy that El finally figured out how to not only accept her allies sticking with her in a crisis, but actually ask them to. Personal growth!

I do not understand the thing with Orion, but whatever, it's a fantasy story, I'll roll with it. In terms of understanding the plot at least. I'm not sure how I feel about "Orion really did have a monster inside of him that could have destroyed everything, but then it got killed and now he's fine." Wut. It helps that he seems to basically be the same person after. If he'd gone through some sort of personality makeover I would have lost it.

I find it hilarious that El was trying to get Orion to face his supposed trauma as a way of avoiding dealing with her own and her mom absolutely caught on to it. Very human.

I think there's something probably deeply symbolic about El combining the three spells there, I'm not up for unpacking it all but including the Scholomance "shelter all the wise-gifted children of the world" thing but making it real very much reminds me of this poem by Langston Hughes. The whole, it wasn't true but it was a good idea so let's make it true. On that note I imagine Orion is thrilled that he gets to stay in his favorite place and do his favorite activity forever. (Or as long as he lives? I'm not sure whether he's going to end up with a normal human lifespan or not.) And he'll get to see his favorite human at least some of the time.

I don't think I mentioned this earlier, but Orion being afraid he'd drain El's mana is more poignant in retrospect. Apparently there was actually a real risk there.

In terms of real world analogs, I think replacing the enclaves with golden stone enclaves works well as a metaphor for "the capitalist system is fucked up, but if you just tear it all down without a replacement, people will die." I know I was cheering for the burn it all down approach earlier, but the book did in fact do a solid job of showing the problems with that. Little 13 or 14 year old coming home from walking her grandmother's dog and everyone's just gone. Ay.

I'm very happy they found a way to cast the spells that do not rely on El having once in a millennium powers. Ideally they'd also find a way to get rid of maw-mouths that doesn't rely on her once a Millenium powers, but whatever.

I probably would have rolled with it if they'd broken the how enclaves are made news to the world and there was some massive outcry, but I do find it satisfyingly realistic that it's not that simple.

I am still confused about the Orion thing. That one kid from Argentina was OK because his shield was still mostly up. Lu was OK (ish) because the spell had been interrupted. But if someone really did have that done to them, before they were even born, that shouldn't actually be survivable, should it? But if Orion didn't survive, he shouldn't have been a person and he was a person. I don't get it. Gah.

Complaints aside, the ending does work for me. I'm buying it. I'm enjoying El eating edamame with Orion and having birds and butterflies in place of falling snake-things and finally admitting something is nice (personal growth). And it does feel like she's not entirely happy yet, she's not entirely content yet, but she wants to be and she's moving in that direction. I think she's getting there.

And I'm glad El got to reunite with her father's family. I wouldn't blame her if she never forgave Deepthi. But I think it's cool she did, and it really does sound like there weren't better options.

Speaking of lack of better options, it's aggravating that Ophelia made Domina, but...it's consistent with the book's themes that that happened and it doesn't prevent the happy ending. It's not about taking down a specific bad guy, or bad woman as the case may be. It's dealing with systemic bullshit, and actually El can do that without taking Ophelia out. Nice parallel to Liesel letting go of her revenge quest too.

I figure there's a much longer thing to be written about pacifism and themes in the scholomance, but for now: sometimes people get this weird idea that anyone committed to non-violence or anything similar, like not seeking revenge, must have had an incredibly sheltered life with no real problems. Anyways. El is definitely not that. She did have an especially kind mother, but that mother also didn't have a particularly sheltered life and she chose that path anyways. I approve of that narrative choice. (And it doesn't feel like it's floating out in nowhere either. It's grounded, like Avatar the Last Airbender is grounded, in showing all the characters as people. In ATLA, people in the Fire Nation are people, farmers and criminals and guerrilla fighters and soldiers are people, Ozai is a massive dick with an appalling absence of checks on his power but he's still a person. And every time El doesn't like someone, because of their privilege or because they're a jerk, she ends up seeing a different side of them, a way that they're vulnerable or have been hurt, a generous and giving or heroic side to them. Everyone gets to be a person. We don't see enough behind Ophelia's mask I think to really see what kind of person she is (we see more of what's his name, Shanghai Guy's) but we can reasonably assume that she is a person whose motives at least make sense to her.

[supernovafics]

✧∘ଂ ࿐ ཾ 𝑳𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑵𝑬. ✭・.・✫・゜・。.

pairing: ex-bestfriend!steve x fem!reader

word count: 683 words

warnings: explicit language, minor mentions of parental trauma 

series masterlist | last part — next part

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

❝ 𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆, 𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖. ❞

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Dear Steve,

Do you remember how we met?

Weirdly enough, I remember the exact moment. Mainly because I was so fucking nervous. (side note: being the new kid in town sucks absolute ass)

But, anyway, I moved in next door to you and our parents hit it off immediately since it turned out that our dads were going to be working with each other. 

As they all nonstop talked for a solid fifteen minutes in the front yard and I stood by like the most lonely twelve-year-old fifth wheel ever, you pulled up on your bicycle coming from God knows where. 

Our parents were quick to introduce us, and then they made you hang out with me. It was nice finally seeing and interacting with a kid my age, but I also thought that you would hate me since our parents were essentially forcing this “play date” to happen. However, you were actually really nice and I was kind of glad that my parents forced me to meet you. 

We went to your backyard and sat by your pool, and I remember that it was insanely hot that day and I really wanted to go swimming but had no idea where my bathing suit was packed among the boxes scattered in our new garage. I could tell that you really wanted to swim too, and although I told you that it would’ve been completely fine if you did it without me, you shrugged like it was no big deal and said that you didn’t want me to feel left out. Which, now looking back on that moment, is probably when I knew that I really wanted us to be friends. 

It surprised me how much we had in common and how so much of that commonality came from how insane our parents were. In the moment it felt funny, but now I can’t help but see how sad it was because of how nonchalantly we were talking about our parents being so neglectful to us. 

You told me the story about when you were in first grade and your mom forgot to pick you up from school because she booked a spa appointment that went until 5pm, and that’s how you learned how to walk home. And I followed up by talking about the time both my parents missed my dance recital when I was eight because my dad worked late (even though he said he wouldn’t), and my mom somehow showed up so late that she missed the number I danced in. 

Now I’m realizing that those fucked up storytimes were probably what cemented our friendship. Because somehow we both found someone that actually fully understood what all of that parental shittiness was like. 

The next day I went over to your house again, since mine was still in complete disarray from unpacking, and I brought a bunch of my favorite movies and we watched them in your living room. 

It’s funny because I think you hated all of them, or at least most of them, and I remember thinking something along the lines of: “I can never talk to this guy again. How could he hate The Great Gatsby? He’s an idiot!”

Of course, none of that happened, because aside from your horrific judgment of movies (which I hope has changed by now), I already saw you as an important person in my life. 

I think we probably spent that entire summer before school started attached at the hip, and when school did finally start it felt okay walking in as the new kid because you were there. Helping me and protecting me from the idiots. 

Twelve-year-old me truly never thought that there would be a time when we weren't the greatest of friends with each other. And I know how naive that probably was for me to think.

But, actually, I don't believe it was entirely that naive to think because we were different. You and me, our friendship, was different than just any other one.

And I honestly think that if I didn't mess things up as badly as I did, we would still be in each other's lives right now.

Sincerely,

Y/N

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

next part

[archivalofsins]

It's been a good while since the end of trial two and a lot has changed in the fandom overall. Even more will change over the course of trial three. I think in this area of uncertainty and impatience it's easy to forget everything that transpired.

Admittedly I'm kind of proud of my growth over this period of time and how the experience has impacted how I interact with fandom and the internet overall.

Not to sound incredibly old fashioned but I think there's still much to unpack from trial two before heading into trial three. So, the down time between the end of trial report and now has been greatly appreciated.

A lot happened.

Haruka's broken 50/50 as people highlighted the risks of him remaining unrestrained not only to himself but others.

People stating that anyone voting Yuno guilty was a pro-life conservative, politicizing her trial as pro-life pro-choice debate. Even going as far to state that Milgram was a sexist series for including her at all.

Futa's was just funny because it was a bold faced admission by the audience that they were in fact too much like Futa to properly judge him. Amongst other things.

Mu's trial was a bunch of people politicizing it in the opposite direction using a bunch of right wing buzzwords like calling it fake news, for some reason bringing race into it from headcanoning her victim as half black, then victim blaming like her victim attacked first so she deserved to die.

Shidou well fuck we need a doctor so go off king. Like it wasn't even about him it was about Mahiru I know who I really cared about here. I couldn't give one singular fuck about Shidou even now. Oh he might hurt Kotoko I don't give a fuck if he does his doctor role what he does in his off time is his business. Nobody was thinking oh my god what about the harm the guy with the medical degree can do to others here when they voted him innocent nobody cared. Like honestly he has a medical degree he can do a lot of harm but that wasn't our problem or main concern.

Mahiru ah see he hung himself and he's probably a cheater anyway. Yes some people thought it was justified to drive a man to suicide for being unfaithful. That was a weird hill for some people to build a house on but they did. I don't know a lot of people just conveniently forgot women cheat and can be abusers as well. I don't know how some forgot that but I wish I were them.

Kazui the guilty shrine- seriously a shrine? Really... Oh also men shouldn't be allowed to get divorces because it makes women look bad. Isn't that what abusive husbands were saying when women wanted divorce rights and fought for things like no fault divorce wild. No one was thinking there yeah go on cook me nothing that would be better than the poison you're trying to disguise as feminism. It'd be less detrimental too.

Amane's second trial really was like,

"Sure her mom kills cats and beats children but we can't forget she's a cult survivor too and being a parent is hard."

Bro as someone with an abusive single mom who did some shit and went through some shit um no that's not an excuse. You can't just go parenting is hard get me my taser or my childhood was hard too it's my turn to beat kids. Like not tobring up Oshi No Ko again but the Amane trial really was just chapter 141 to me in real time (read it because that got messy later in).

"She had to live through the cult too. She was having a hard time as well what about her upbringing? Do you know how hard it is to raise a child by oneself."

Her husband was at work not dead what the fuck did y'all mean by this???

What were these takes? Nobodies trauma gives them a free pass to traumatize others- wait we'll get to you hold up put those dogs back where they came from! She's a single mom of one girl meanwhile the woman with two sons and an absent doctor husband. Not doing any of this shit. She was my rock Shidou says fully meaning it. Yuno mom two kids haven't heard a word about her killing cats or beating kids. Wild it's like it's pretty easy to choose not to do the things she did. Every other shit parent here did decide to be shitty Amane's mom included.

Mikoto oh suddenly your trauma does excuse how you responded to a situation. Work hard, such sad boy. Yeah I can believe the stigmatized version of dissociative identity disorder in this one niche situation. Japan is so backwards of course they'd still write it like this they don't know any better. So, of course the other alter is the evil one and Mikoto is still the goodest of boys- Also dissociative identity disorder isn't real unless you have a certain number of alters that act x specific way that's why there has to be this many.

With a tiny hint of if the child is guilty let's just kill this man too~

Fuck Mikoto he's had it too good. Bitch could have went home in fact we see him do it in the video! Where the fuck was Amane gonna go the streets?! We saw how that worked out in her video. Snitch ass streets, if these streets could talk- Don't worry with snitch advisory they can even if you don't want them to!

Kotoko well if you think she's bad then you don't have real trauma. Also grooming can only be sexual actually I heard the term from twitter and never looked into the act of doing this ever outside of that context. God don't even ask me to define groom as a verb.

So on and so forth. It's been a lot and this all just shit I personally experienced.

Trial two showed us one of the worst aspects of humanity,

Our ability as people to use our own experiences as the blueprint for all life.

Our stubborn commitment to seeing something only one way. Because that's always been how we've seen it. That's always been how it was. Milgram trial two and the audience for better or worse put the definition of closed-mindedness on full display.

Regardless of how inclusive, progressive, or forward thinking people believed themselves to be in the moment. We saw what a commitment to only one way of thinking could cause and who it ends up hurting. I think trial two can teach people that even the most progressive leaning individuals can cause harm.

Even those who want to support marginalized individuals or are marginalized themselves are capable of causing harm. Because when we convince ourselves that the only voice that matters is our own we silence, belittle, and ignore the experiences of those around us. It doesn't matter what politically correct framing a person attributes to their belief if one is being closed-minded it will still harm others and the movement they're purporting to care about.

It will more than likely do more harm to the people one is attempting to help the most whether that is themselves or others. That's the only thing being closed-minded can do.

[windwardrose]

I kind of wanted to post this to facebook but unfortunately I anticipate there would be just too much drama to have a useful discussion (my timeline is split almost evenly between queer twenty-thirty-somethings, basic to slightly conservative twenty-thirty-somethings, and conservative moms)

To be honest I'm not sure what to say, bc the cohort and the church kids I grew up with ARE having children. Usually even several children. but most of them live in more rural or suburban areas in the south and have solidly-employed partners, and family nearby. and then there are the people like the rest of us, the strays and exiles, unpacking the weird moldy boxes of existential trauma, usually single, usually renting, usually neurodivergent and/or mentally ill, usually queer of some sort, and the idea of having kids of our own is as strange as sprouting wings and flying. such a weird, overstimulating luxury. get back to us when interest rates go down.

(I'm not single or renting but we check the rest of the boxes pretty well around here. and our mortgage is about what we'd pay for rent for an apartment in the area.)

and people like my mom are like "so live in a trailer park if you have to, and raise your children while your partner works, and pray for your daily needs!" but I'm not sure how possible that even IS, and how many gigantic assumptions it makes. We see what goes wrong every day, and the families too big to raise their high-needs children properly and too overextended to figure out solutions, and the old houses on weedy lots torn down to build mansions, and the rates for daycare and the waitlists for mental health care expanding every day.

but - button it all down, be normal, pretend to be normal, tell all the worries and the insecurities to be gone, get heterosexually married and have heterosexual sex, have babies, thrift your clothes, drive an old car, eat rice and beans, pray away the depression and anxiety, be normal and stop obsessing and it will all work out - won't it?

I don't know. I'm just raising my dogs here and keeping the house running and looking after my work kids and waiting and praying for rain. maybe this will turn into a yelling match just as sure as on facebook but I really hope it won't, because I think we are all searching for similar things at the end of the day, whatever they look like for us. love and belonging and hope and security, and to be cared for and to care.

[yesimwriting]

I support you in the tate interest bc I'm right there with you

Has he done crimes? Ya sure but look at him he's cute!

And I'm intrigued with your modern day fic idea if you wanna share 👀

a/n i love you for indulging me <3

also i will be the first to admit that i don't think i ever fully got what AHS apocolypse did to murder house?? like the time travel and new timeline? ig there's no more murder house??

idk i didn't love it so i'm leaving it out partially out of preference and partially out of being a little confused lol,, and i honestly don't want to get into all of that!!

and there's time in between the end of AHS murder house and AHS apocalypse so you can also imagine this is somewhere in there, where season 1 trauma is less fresh to all the characters but not season 8...if that makes sense??

anyways this made me so excited i decided to use this as my homework study break instead of the fic i was working on earlier

----

"And maggots crawl up their nose and eat their brains."

And just like that, I no longer have the luxury of letting whatever Kayla's into these days be just background noise. "Wait a minute..." She looks up from the large book laying in front of her, raising an eyebrow like she had been talking about something any seven-year-old girl could be into. Like brain eating maggots are no different than Barbies or baby dolls. "Maggots?"

"Mhm," she nods, sitting up a little straighter, "It's in my new book, I checked it out at the library."

Kayla lifts one end, giving me a way to check out the cover. 500 Weird Ways to Go. Ugh. Can't blame her, I blame the person raising her. I look away from the dining room table and glare at my mom who's searching through the boxes that have lived on the kitchen counter since we first walked in about a week ago.

"What?" My mom doesn't even have to look up to sense my disappointment. "It's educational, and you were into some weird stuff, too when you were seven." She pushes aside the box she's looking through in favor of the one next to it. "...Used to tell me how much bacteria a single roach could carry."

I set down my pencil. "Doesn't matter--Kayla's been having nightmares." The trig homework was frustrating before and I can't tell if this is worse. "It's not appropriate." She walks away from the boxes, giving me a chance to see the low cut, silky tank she's wearing. "And neither is that top if that's what you're wearing for the PTA meeting."

"Lighten up, sweetheart." I don't. She sighs, nails tapping against the counter. "Y'know you used to be fun."

"Yeah, well," I stand, picking up my school supplies, awkwardly forcing them all into my arms, "That was before some crazy lady forced me to move halfway across the country to live in some house that we shouldn't even be able to afford."

Her glossy lips fall apart in mock surprise, "I'm not crazy." She shakes her head once, "And I've told you...the financial stuff just worked, okay...so just relax and be a kid for once. Worry about decorating your room, or-or making friends, or throwing a rager and making me hate you."

I am so not in the mood for the you worry too much speech. "Lot of ways for me to make you hate me." Before she can respond, I reach over and steal the mug of coffee she had been drinking from. "Just saying."

I walk out of the kitchen, mug and school supplies all awkwardly balancing in my arms until I'm in what's supposed to be my room.

There's nothing wrong with the space. Actually, in another situation, I'm sure I could have really loved this space. The room has dark blue walls and wood arches that make it feel unique. It also came pre-furnished and everything feels like it fits. But none of it feels mine.

Maybe it's just the lack of unpacking...the boxes of posters and personal items pouring over the dresser and onto the floor...the suit case I'm still living out of. Or maybe the good qualities of the room are the issue. It's put together so perfectly I feel like I'm what's wrong with it. Like I'm intruding--a guest in someone else's room...someone else's house...someone else's life.

Sometimes when I can't sleep I imagine what it might've been. Some nights it even slips into my dreams. The story rarely stays the same...sometimes it's a teenage girl who wanted to be here even less than I do...other times I picture a little kid who grew up here...and sometimes I even think of this as some boy's room that relies on rock music and doesn't get along with his mom.

None of that matters, I guess. It's my room, obviously, and imagining who might have lived here before won't help me with my homework. I squeeze my eyes shut, rubbing my temple before turning my attention back to the real villain. Trigonometry.

I breeze through most of the questions as much as anyone can breeze through trigo until I'm on the last one. I'm stuck. I work on it again and again and it keeps being wrong.

I sigh, grabbing a pillow and using it to muffle my groan of frustration. How many times can I do what I'm supposed to do and still get it wrong? I pick up my eraser, knowing what I should do. I should just start over. Instead of dragging it across the page I throw it across the room.

Instead of smacking into the door and falling to the ground, the door pushes back. I sit up quicker than I thought possible.

"Warm welcome." The sarcasm comes from the stranger lingering way too comfortably in my doorway. His dark eyes scan the room before landing on me. He takes in my appearance openly, which I'm not used to, so I instinctually do the same. He seems like he's average height with blonde hair that's long enough to shag slightly and he's wearing an oversized sweater. "Cool room, by the way."

"Uh..." He's definitely lying, because all I've fully unpacked are a couple of books, a few pictures, my record player, and a single movie poster. "Thanks."

I'm not stupid. I know home intruders can be anyone, even cute boys that look like they're around your age and act casual enough to gaslight you into feeling like you're the weird one for not inviting them in. But if that's the goal, he's really good at it. I feel awkward and like I should be doing something to compensate.

"Sorry about the eraser." The words feel flat, almost shy. "That wasn't--wasn't about you--" Like I wouldn't have been well within my rights to throw something at someone who may or may not be breaking into my house. "That was...trig."

He nods once and I can't tell if it feels indifferent. I'm not sure why it matters. The stranger steps further into my room, his attention briefly focusing on the framed photo of a younger me and one of my best friends from back home. He's closer than a stranger should be now, close enough to lean over and look at my homework, which he does.

"Uh..." I sit up even straighter, a part of me wanting to grab my notebook and shield it even though that's irrational. There isn't anything he can get from it. "Who are you?"

The stranger holds my stare for a beat before answering, "I'm Tate." I nod, even though that does nothing for me. "I live around here."

Okay--that makes a lot of sense. I wouldn't be surprised if my mom ran into him on her way out and waved him down and told him to just let himself in and find her oldest daughter. Maybe this is an ambush attempt at getting me to make friends.

"Oh," I mumble like that explains everything, "Did my mom stop you?" The assumption feels like it could make me seem weird. I don't know why I feel like I'm the one that needs to come off as casual when he's the one that has less of a right to be here. "She invites people in sometimes, especially when she's new to a place." I scratch my knee to have something to physically do. "She never thinks anyone could be a murderer."

Oh my god?! Did I just accuse the only attractive guy I've met here of being a murderer? "Not that I think you're a murderer." I fight the urge to physically cringe. "--I um--I've been doing math for way longer than physically tolerable so my head's kinda mush right now."

"Explains why you divided wrong." Before I can ask what he's talking about, Tate places his finger against the bottom of the page. I look at what he's pointing at, some throwaway basic math...that I messed up. That's why it wasn't working.

"Oh?" I pick up my pencil and cross out my mistake so that I remember where to start over. "You totally saved my life." I rewrite the numbers so that I can actually solve the problem. "I'm Y/n, by the way."

Only halfway done with my math problem, I look up. He didn't ask for my name, which doesn't matter. Maybe he feels less comfortable in a stranger's room than he seems or maybe I've weirded him out and he has no intentions of speaking to me again. Not knowing is making my skin feel like it's crawling. It doesn't make sense for me to care.

I want him to like me. The realization burrows itself deep into my chest. It's an uncomfortable feeling, making it hard to just sit there and stare.

I've never considered myself someone that needs validation from guys, but this doesn't feel quite like that. School hasn't seemed too promising and every day I talk to my friends from home or I see their posts online and realize that they still have everything I did. I'm not mad about it or surprised--the world doesn't and shouldn't stop and start with me--but it hurts to suddenly have no one. And even though I know nothing about him, Tate's the first remotely cool seeming person I've met.

He waits a beat, eyes focused on a point that feels just past my head. I don't know why, but something about the silence feels pivotal. Tate then dips his chin downwards, a nod of acknowledgement. "Cool."

Tate takes a partial step forward, body angling itself towards the nightstand that I've been using for my record player. "This work?"

"Yeah," I turn myself so that I can watch him, "I know everything's online, but I like having physical copies." My nails press into my knee.

Tate reaches forward to mess with the volume dial. "What kind of music do you have?"

"A little of everything," I force my hand to relax, "But most of my vinyls are still being shipped."

His eyes briefly flit in my direction, "Got anything worth listening to?"

"Uh..." Is he implying that he's staying? Do I want him to? I'm lonely and kind of desperate for friends, but I should probably at least try to be a little suspicious. "We can listen to whatever you want on my..." I move a pillow and straighten my comforter in search of my, "Phone."

After a second of searching, I find it under my textbook.

"Anything?"

I unlock my phone, "Yeah, your pick, I owe you for the math thing."

Tate shrugs, "I just wanted to make sure you'd stop at the eraser, y'know, as a friend."

He gestures towards the door in a way that almost feels teasing. I can barely register the fact that he's kind of making fun of me because my mind's stuck on the last word. "We're friends?"

"You wanna be?"

The bluntness of the question surprises me more than it should. He's yet to feel particularly invested in social norms. "...Yeah." I scratch at the back of my wrist awkwardly. "That'd--that'd be cool."

Tate's head turns his head away for a second. He takes a step forward before sitting at the edge of my bed. The proximity nearly makes me jump out of my skin. I redirect my nervous energy into grabbing my homework and moving it to the other side of the bed. "You got any Kurt Cobain on there?"

----

a/n i accidentally developed the background way too much for something idek if i'm going to touch on again but i spent all day doing hw and deserved to give into a harmless impulse

might have to make a part 2/mini series bc what did i do all that for 😭 i lowkey wanted to add violet and reader friendship to add some angst so maybe that? idk

[gubes-sweaters]

Fire on Fire

Content Warning(s): discussion of childhood trauma, small mention of Cat’s mother’s murder

Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter 2: I Almost Started to Believe Her

“I think this session went well, but before we go. Overall, how’ve you been feeling? I know these past couple weeks haven’t been easy,” she says, pushing her blonde bob back behind her ear. She looks carefully at the young woman sitting across from her. The young woman who was clearly avoiding the conversation busied herself by rolling an M&M in her hand, then popping it into her mouth before the candy coating began to melt.

Her mouth opened slightly like she was getting ready to talk, but she grabbed a few more M&Ms out of the bowl of candy on the wooden coffee table in front of her. She ponders her thoughts for a moment before opting to speak.

“I don’t know it’s been… heavy,” She wasn’t sure what to say. Knowing the sister she desperately looked for and created this star studded image of from a young age before and after they were separated by the foster system, did what she did, left her numb to say the least. She popped the colorful candies in her mouth signaling that she was done talking.

“I know the idea of finding Catherine one day was something you dreamed about. We talked about that when you first came into my office six years ago. It has to be disappointing, knowing she turned out like this,” she says, while writing something in the woman’s patient file.

“I think I just liked the idea of her more than anything, Someone who protected me and loved me, but looking back without the rose tinted glasses, her love was conditional. If I didn’t do A then she did B or she would ignore me for X amount of time. All while I have the other childhood trauma running alongside the turmoil she put me through,” she says with a solemn look on her tired features.

“Well, why did you stop listening to her? What changed?” The therapist asks before adjusting herself in her leather seat. The two women had been talking for over an hour at this point and it showed because both of them have been wiggling in their seats more frequently as the time passed.

“I guess I started to get a mind of my own and she didn’t like that. Shortly after our dad killed her mom, and we were both sent off to foster care. She ended up with some man in North Carolina I guess and I eventually ended up with my foster moms. Since we have different mom’s and her mom was murdered, we were considered different cases, so we were split up and we lost all contact,” she says bluntly. It wasn’t even two years since she originally unpacked all of this trauma. Reliving all of this feels like opening old wounds. Especially since she had to go into depth about her childhood because of Cat getting arrested the first time. She had talked about her childhood a lot when she began therapy, but Cat now being brought into this brought a whole new set of memories. No longer did she see her older sister as this snarky, funny, and strong person. She was a bully at the end of the day. She used to be able to look at her old memories and see Cat as a beacon, but those memories are now forever stained.

“So, it didn’t end on either of your own accords?”

“No, I was still very young when everything went down and Cathrine was a teenager,” she says before adjusting herself and fidgeting with her necklace.

“Alright, I’m sorry to cut this off, but we are over our time and I know you have to go back to work. I’ll still see you next week, at the same time?” The therapist asks.

“Yep,” the younger woman responds, while grabbing her belongings off the tan leather couch.

“Alright then and you know if you need me for anything, call my number,” the woman says while standing in unison with her.

“Will do. Have a nice weekend,” she replies while walking out of the office. She repeats those same sentiments to the man who works at the receptionist desk after picking up her doctor’s excuse for work. As she makes her way out of the building the sun that's peaking through the cloudy sky warms her skin and she pulls out her sunglasses from her purse while making her way to her car.

She doesn’t even get to open her car door before her phone starts buzzing. She expected it to be her boss or even a co worker wondering when she’ll be back to work. Instead she got an unknown number in her phone.

“Hello?” she picked it up, curiosity looming in her voice.

“Hi, um this is, well, I don’t know how to explain this very well. This is Spencer Reid, I’m with the BAU. We did an investigation on your sister, Cat. Well, my team did, I wasn’t there because… the reason isn’t all that important right now. I wanted to know if we could talk about a few things over coffee,” a shaky voice replies on the other line.

“Listed I told your team I haven’t even seen Cathrine since I was eight. There’s nothing I can do to help,” she snapped back.

“No, it’s nothing work related. It’s just personal. Cat has caused me a lot of… problems in my personal life and I’m just taking my therapist’s advice. I wanted to know if it was alright to meet for coffee, maybe we can talk. If- If you don’t want to that’s fine,” he ended his rambling sounding unsure and awkward. Spencer sat in his car fidgeting with anything that was in the cup holders or center console, waiting for a response with bated breath.

She lets out a long, but quiet sigh. The other line was nearly silent for a minute minus the muted sounds of the young woman on the other line opening her car door and cranking the car up.

“Sorry, I wanted to switch the call to the bluetooth in my car. I don't want to be running late for work,” speaks up. Spencer suddenly feels the shred of confidence he had when making the decision to call begin to dissipate.

“How does Thursday afternoon work? Like three o’clock? After two I’m off work for the rest of the day.” She says with a slightly gentler tone. The tenderness makes Spencer’s ears perk up a bit.

“Yeah that’ll work. There’s a great coffee place that I love. They have a latte that uses robusta coffee beans. Which has very high levels of caffeine. It's actually very interesting. I can send you the address to the coffee shop.” He says before cutting himself off before going on about his prefered type of coffee.

When Spencer first moved into his apartment after Gideon recruited him that was the first place he visited. Ever the routine-oriented person, he has gone there before work almost everyday since.

The women's cold demeanor began to be chiseled away. This was proven by her light, airy laugh she let out at Spencer’s sudden facts tumbling from his mouth, an old habit of his.

After her small laugh she agreed with a simple ‘okay’, with the remnants of her laugh still lingering.

Now it was Spencer’s turn to be quiet. He wasn't sure how to navigate certain conversations, especially with new people because of how often he was bullied as a child. It doesn't make it any better when the new person he’s talking to is a half-sister of the woman who’s dedicated the past few years of her life to ruining his.

“I'm sorry if that seemed like I was laughing at you, I wasn’t . You kind of sounded like my mom when you started bringing up random facts.” She says, noticing the quiet. Y/N tended to be very perceptive. Captivating a small crowd of people with varying reactions is important. Knowing how to get shy, curious people to speak up, get overtly snarky know-it-alls to quiet enough for everyone else to enjoy the tip, but entertaining their conversations enough that they did not feel rejected, or to get more bored people engaged with the stories she tried to paint became her forte.

“That’s alright, well I’ll send you the address. I’ve uh- got to go. I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, have a good day. Bye.” She says, admittedly kind of awkwardly.

“You too, bye.” Is all Spencer udders before fumbling with his phone then hanging up.

When the call drops he heart is left pounding. Not with fear or worry, but the type of anxiousness that makes someone have butterflies in their belly. The type of anxiousness that brings a little bit of warmth to the tips of a person’s ears and cheeks.

She has a small smile she can’t wipe off her face as she pulls out of her parking spot and heads towards work.

A/N: I’ve had this unedited sitting for so long, but i finally decided to edit it and put it out, mostly only because I said I would yesterday and now I feel obligated. So enjoy! Also if you have any requests my messages along with submissions are always open! Also this is inspired by the Sam Smith song Fire on Fire. The titles of the chapters are the lyrics to that song. Their voice is absolutely breathtaking and I listen to their music a lot while I write.

Taglist (if any aren’t gray that means i tried to tag, but couldn’t find the user sorry :/): @striving4averagegirl @measure-in-pain @tvandfanfic @haylaansmi @rexorangecouny @sophiario

[pynkhues]

Hi! I know you’re taking a break from GG at the time, but I was re-reading See You in the Light and was wondering if Rio eventually finds out that Beth’s only family is all of Annie and Ruby? If so—could you share a tidbit from when he does? I’m really curious as to how it all goes down in his head! Thank you!

Hi! Thank you both for your very kind words! C&C is absolutely a fic that has a very special place in my heart, and I definitely put a lot of thought into Beth concealing her limited family and Rio's discovery of it in that 'verse. I think for me one of the things I love most about them as a ship is how reluctant they were to give over any information to each other (you just know that they'd hide their coffee orders from each other), and I love exploring the root of that in 'verse as a trauma response which I definitely think the show was implying.

But yes! Have the scene! Since I'm not sure when (if ever) I'll finish this fic. I wrote this a long time ago and have given it a little tidy, but it's mostly a pretty messy wip-y excerpt, so please keep that in mind, and I hope you like it. <3

-

“You talked to Annie about it?” Elizabeth asks, voice thick with disbelief, and nah, she doesn’t get to play it like that. Doesn’t get to pretend he’s the one who’s stepped outta line when she’s spent the last two weeks spinning the truth around her finger like she used to her old wedding ring. He gets to be mad here. Gets to feel it – that he’s the one laying his cards on the table while she keeps hers flush to her fuckin’ chest.

It frustrates a laugh out of him, and the sound is coarse even to his own ears, and the thing is, he doesn’t even blame her for rolling her eyes, even though it prods at the embers of his temper. He rocks his jaw, lets his gaze drift sideways to the pile of boxes lining the side of their bedroom because they ain’t even unpacked upstairs yet, at least not outside of the kids’ rooms, and he doesn’t like it. Any of it, but least of all the fact that he’s dressed for her, in some soft cotton button down his sister got him, while Elizabeth’s dressed as she always is, fuck, might even be in the same purple dress she was in three years ago, and he’s only just starting to realise that maybe everything about her is a type of armor.

Downstairs, he can hear his sister hoot and the call of steaks up from Elizabeth’s dipshit ex-husband, can hear the start-stop-start of a playlist no one can agree on, and Marcus’ giggle, loud, always, and perfect, and he looks back at Elizabeth, two feet away, and he just thinks - - who the fuck is she.

He sniffs.

“Yeah, see, I figure this whole thing was about family, right? You gettin’ to meet mine, me gettin’ to meet yours, and since your sister’s the only one fuckin’ here - - ”

“She’s not the only one here, Ruby and Stan are here, and all the kids, and Judith, and - - and - - ”

Rio sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Oh, I’m supposed to feel good about your ex and his mama bein’ here?”

It’s instant then – the way Elizabeth’s look hardens. Her shoulders back and her jaw set, and it ain’t right, how much that look on her face sparks deep in him.

“Your ex is here too, and I haven’t said a thing about that. She’s Marcus’ mother, just like Dean is my children’s father, this whole thing is about - - about blending and - - “

“She didn’t bring her mom, darlin’’.”

“Well, she could’ve,” Elizabeth bites, and she takes a step back, rounding the bed, grabbing at the first box she sees and yanking off the tape. The sound’s loud, ugly, and he knows it, feels it, the need to have somethin’ to do with your useless fuckin’ hands. “I wouldn’t care if she did. And for the record, I’ve known Judith for 30 years, and you know how much she’s helped the last few weeks.”

Thing is, she has. Judith’s been on call more than his own ma’s been, more than Dean has, and it eats at him, that Marcus likes her, that she’s made the fuckin’ effort there, but still doesn’t quite know how to string two words together when it comes to Rio, and it sits in him that Elizabeth calls her, she doesn’t call his mom, and she doesn’t call - -

Rio sucks in a wet breath, watching as Elizabeth unpacks a box of ugly bubblewrapped ornaments onto their bed, and fuck it he thinks.

He just says it.  

“Yeah, coz your parents ain’t here, and you ain’t in it.”

He’s not sure what reaction he’s expecting, but it’s not for Elizabeth to reel back, her face bare naked with shock, and she blinks. Once, twice, three times, before she abandons the box in front of her and throws her arms out broad.

“What? We just bought a house together. We’re moving our children to the same school.”

“Yeah, and everyone here’s mine. My family, my friends, shit, the men in my fuckin’ employ - - ”

“Oh, what? You wanted me to invite Molly from PTA? You want her talking to Mick about getting wine drunk watching episodes of Vanderpump while Mick’s got a glock in the back of his pants? And these guys are in our employ now, just for the record, okay?”

And fuck, if this whole thing hasn’t completely derailed. Rio clenches his eyes shut, pinches the bridge of his nose, paces, briefly, in their whole ass brand new fuckin’ bedroom, and this wasn’t supposed to be what happened here. This shit was supposed to just be them, real, but Elizabeth’s never known when to drop the knife.

“Elizabeth,” he says slowly, too patiently, if the way she looks at him is anything to go by, and he asks the question he’s wanted to all night: “Where’s your family?”

She just exhales, exhausted, gestures, vaguely, towards downstairs.

“They’re here.”

He huffs, shaking his head, feels his face clench, and something in his chest tighten, and this ain’t right, it ain’t workin’, because they talked about this, and she doesn’t just get to give him the parts of her he already knows like they’re a step forward. Doesn’t get to play that this honesty, this vulnerability is his to give and hers to take, doesn’t get to - -

“My mom’s dead, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist.”

Rio blinks, lifting his head, staring at her sullen look back at him. She swallows, shrugs, and shit, he just stares at her.

“And my dad left, like, a million years before that. This is it. I’m not,” she gestures limply. “I’m not. Hiding anything…Like there’s nothing to hide because there’s nothing else. This is it. For me. Annie, Ruby, the kids…you met my whole family a long time ago.”

He stares at her, searches for the lie, but there’s not one. It’s just Elizabeth, her eyes glassy but her chin jut forwards, defiant, and somewhere outside a car pulls up and he hears Annie yell Greggles! Nance! And it’s just all so fuckin’ stupid. He swallows, thick.

“You didn’t say it, when we were talkin’ about all of this.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a kid until you brought him to the park one day.”

“Circumstances,” Rio hums, and Elizabeth gives him a look.

“Circumstances,” she says, gesturing to the house, and Rio thinks the context ain’t it, but shit, with the two of them, maybe it is.  

[reinemichele]

(I feel like I should say, my mom did notice right away that I was having night terrors after my dad died [while struggling to work multiple jobs as a single parent of 3, and being the only one to take care of my grandma despite 😀🔪 having 4 siblings 😀🔪] & took me to a therapist

The problem was, the therapist very clearly thought of me as an annoying brat who was acting out for attention. I didn't necessarily think my mom wouldn't believe me about that, but knowing that she had so much on her plate, our money struggles, combined with knowing almost none of the other adults in my life would take me seriously as a 4 year old... I didn't think it was worth the effort of an uphill battle, broaching the topic only for my mom's friends, coworkers, siblings, etc to dismiss it as me being "sensitive." I also didn't want to look for another therapist, have another bad experience, and then have all those adults I listed insist that I was lying about it for attention. Nor did I want my mom to keep paying for a therapist who was disrespectful and therefore a waste of time and money, when those things were very limited.

So . I did what any sane (slash sarcasm) already-neurotically-anxious, overthinking-until-I-got-a-stomachache 4 year old facing trauma would do, and told my mom that I was feeling fine now, actually, so she could stop taking me to therapy.

I'm sure I wasn't particularly convincing; I was a toddler. My parents started noticing signs of anxiety in me when I was two, and that was before god said "give that child severe separation anxiety." But I don't remember being questioned about it, and whenever we talk about the period of time where I saw a therapist, my mom has never called me on lying through my teeth about it. As an adult, I've never spilled that I was lying or my motivations, because I don't want to retroactively give her more to feel guilty about from that time. And I was relatively (?) successful at like, no longer having night terrors through sheer will. We can chalk it up to the therapist making me so mad that it gave me something to focus on as a distraction and motivation to steel my emotions into something useful. Don't unpack the last part of that sentence <3)

[denimbex1986]

'For Andrew Scott, the Hot Priest questions are cooling down.

Yes, the affable Irish actor is still best known stateside as a devout dreamboat on “Fleabag” with Phoebe Waller-Bridge. But lately, he’s encountered more people who are eager to discuss "All of Us Strangers" (in select theaters now, nationwide Friday), a crushing gay romance that reckons with mortality.

“I was at the gym and this girl came up who’d just seen the movie,” says Scott, 47, still in his sweats as he refuels with scrambled eggs, toast and green juice. “Like all good art, it sparks a need in people to speak a little about their experience. I find it really moving they would trust me to talk about their lives – they feel like I’ve seen them.”

In the fantastical drama, Scott plays a lonely writer named Adam who ventures back to his boyhood home, where he discovers his long-dead parents (Claire Foy and Jamie Bell) are actually alive. Over many visits, he reverts to a childlike state: unpacking his old pajamas and past traumas and climbing into their bed for late-night heart-to-hearts. It’s a remarkably unguarded performance that could earn Scott his first Oscar nomination for best actor.

“He’s one of the most extraordinary human beings I've ever had the privilege of meeting,” co-star Paul Mescal says. “The work that he does in the film is a testament to the person he is. That kind of vulnerability is what’s present in his friendship with me.”

Adam’s parents died in the 1980s, and are still stuck in their younger bodies and mindsets when he returns home. As a result, Adam wrestles with their outdated ideas around homosexuality and what it means to be a man.

“There was so much nuance I wanted to get across that I needed the actor to really understand what that felt like,” writer/director Andrew Haigh says. “So when you see Andrew, that is genuine emotion that he cannot hide or escape. You can’t fake that.”

The film was shot in Haigh’s real childhood home, which added levels of responsibility and intimacy that Scott had never experienced before on a set.

“Because he offered that up, I was going to offer my own stuff up and give my experience,” Scott says. “Whatever it is that we created, it’s certainly authentic to both of us.”

Scott was born and raised in Dublin. His mom was an art teacher, while his dad worked at an employment agency. As a kid with a "very strong imagination," he enrolled in drama classes to help overcome his shyness. He got his start in a porridge commercial at age 6, appearing in other ads and theater before booking his first film, “Korea,” at 17.

Even at an early age, he felt different from his peers. His prized possession was a pair of binoculars, which reminded him of opera glasses from old movies (“Pretty gay, right?”). He remembers “the shame” of wanting to play with Barbie dolls, and the exhilaration he felt listening to disco legend Gloria Gaynor.

“I remember hearing ‘I Will Survive’ and thinking, ‘This song is for me!’ ” Scott says. “Not even knowing why – I was probably about 9. And then you find out 10 years later it’s a big gay anthem. That fascinates me because that has nothing to do with sexuality. That has to do with a feeling of otherness or defiance or drama.”

Scott came out to his parents in his early 20s, before publicly coming out in 2013 at age 37. At that time, he had already found success on TV with “Sherlock” and “John Adams.” But at the start of his career, people advised him not to speak about his sexuality, for fear that it might cost him roles.

“Coming out was the best thing that ever happened to me in relation to my work,” Scott says. “I got more opportunities. I felt like I was happier as a person. I was more experimental as an artist. Before that, you’re in a slightly speculative world where you’re thinking, ‘Well, if they saw this side of me, would I be (rejected)?’ Now, I don’t feel as defensive as I used to be.”

Working the awards circuit in recent months, he’s found camaraderie with other “incredible” gay actors including Colman Domingo, Jodie Foster and Jonathan Bailey.

“That community within my own life has become incredibly important to me as I grow older,” Scott says. “There’s something about having gay friends that is really special to me now. There’s a shorthand and hopefully an empathy among us.”

Like any actor, Scott never wants to be solely defined by his sexuality. “That’s one of the things that I think is a fear for a lot of queer people,” he says. “I don’t want that to be ignored, nor do I want to be drowning in that one attribute the whole time.” Luckily, “I’ve had an opportunity to play lots of different types of parts,” including a villain in the James Bond movie “Spectre” and a lieutenant in the war drama “1917.”

Next up, he stars in the Netflix series “Ripley,” which he describes as a “stunning” and “quite faithful” adaptation of Patricia Highsmith's novel “The Talented Mr. Ripley.” After leading a one-man “Uncle Vanya” in London last year, he would also like to do a musical (“But it’s hard because I can’t sing!”).

He recently got to watch “All of Us Strangers” with his parents, which they “loved.” Going forward, he believes the movie has made him a more open and confident performer.

“I’ve always brought myself to every character, but in this film, I certainly did more than any other one,” Scott says. “The fact that people have responded to it encourages me to share more. We’re not here long, so I’m just trying to be courageous in some way.”'

[chaos0pikachu]

I finally finished Bed Friend (I’m so fucking slow I still gotta finish Moonlight Chicken show was just making me frustrated lol) and overall, wished I liked it more than I did 

I should rename this blog ‘chaos pikachu has unpopular bl opinions’ rip 

Okay the things I liked: 

All of Dormandi shows so far look good. I just want to commend them for that their shows don’t look cheap at all. I really like that they include a variety of locations, characters have homes, there’s places they visit, they go on vacations, etc. The lighting was probably the thing that stuck out to me the most, just good lighting all around loved that. I liked the soundtrack though some of the musical ques were a bit off overall the soundtrack was rock solid. I also liked the costuming. Very individualized which was great, King’s style was different from Uea’s which was different from Jade’s, really loved that as well. 

Uea was still a great character and my TLDR of it is, I think the show should’ve been a character drama centered around Uea rather than a romance drama. 

Alright let’s get into this, obviously unpopular opinions~~~ under the cut enter at your own risk or whatever

King was boring - flat. Just an utterly boring, one dimensional character. He might tie with Dean for me on the Most Boring Love Interests but Dean wins out b/c Net is charming as fuck. He’s got a great screen presence and he’s enjoyable to watch on screen. He was also the actor I liked the most out of the show outside of the Evil Boss who’s name I don’t care to look up (but he also played Chai in Love in the Air so that was fun). I really liked watching Net (and not just cause he’s hot) and I hope whatever upcoming shows he’s got at Dormandi give him a char to play that’s like, interesting lol 

I was really hoping we’d get SOMETHING from King, maybe something more about his relationship with his mother, something to contrast Uea’s relationship with his mother. Something about his inner life, hobbies, shit anything! I felt like he had one character trait which was “in love with Uea”. God damn even Phayu liked working on and building cars. If the character is going to be thinly drawn they gotta at least be FUN. 

The actress who played Uea’s mom was high key terrible, I ended up cringing during her scenes which took me out of the emotional weight of them. 

I thought the Evil Boss was to damn much. By that point it felt like a fucking whump fic. Like, Uea already had trauma to unpack, we didn’t need the cheating boyfriend try to rape him but I was like fine this sorta makes sense b/c of the theme of men using Uea for his body, feeling entitled to it, etc and b/c of his trauma potentially his ex could have love bombed him making him miss earlier red flags before the cheating. I actually wish they explored more with that? They drop that the ex has a father in politics but don’t actually explain or go into that (I had to learn that on twitter cause it’s in the novel) but like, it’s right there!! 

A rich, successful, handsome son of a politician takes interest in Uea, love bombs him, and Uea ignores the signs etc like that’s interesting backstory to explore and parallel that with his relationship with King. But nope, just a quick bout of trauma and we drop it. Alright fine, fine. But the Evil Boss? Like this is unnecessary. This is using trauma as a plot device. It was pointless, all it did was give King something to do (act hero) and make Uea leave but like, he could have left for any number of reasons due to his ex, or his fuckass mother and step-father. I was really bothered by this b/c at this point it felt like to much and it was frustrating. 

I liked how the show handled and showed Uea’s triggers, so this continued barrage of extra trauma on top of that was narratively - stupid. You don’t need NEW trauma when the old trauma is still clearly fresh and being dealt with. 

The NC scenes were weird. It almost felt like the director wasn’t comfortable filming them, the editing was off, the direction was strange. I think this is Net and James first series? Maybe they weren’t 100% comfortable with the material and each other yet. Idk they HAVE chemistry, which is why I’m wondering if the director didn’t want to ‘go there’ with the NC scenes. 

If they didn’t want to go full LITA pwp energy, they shoulda gone with something in the middle like Big Dragon did cause I think they were trying to go for like that Kinnporsche erotica energy and it flopped. They didn’t commit to the bit. 

Like there’s one scene where Uea gets down on his knees and the implication is he’s giving King a oral but when the camera moves again King’s pants are on, up AND buttoned like come on at least let him take his pants off and be in his boxers. 

Also let them kiss, so many of their kisses were directed at awkward angles. 

Uea rocked those kitten ears though. 

Net and James next series looks really interesting and more my speed so I hope they have a better director or something lol cause I dig them, and want good shows for them both.