I wonder how many people who treat stringent content moderation and cancel culture as civilization’s first, last, and only line of defense against a world of widespread misogyny and racism understand how many of their favorite bits of entertainment would be unacceptable by today’s standards.
And no, I’m not talking about books written in 1884, when Mark Twain could drop the n-word more often than a hyperactive squirrel with paws coated in butter would drop an acorn and have no one bat an eye. I’m not talking about movies released in 1961, when a white actor could play a racist caricature of a Japanese landlord to widespread praise from critics. I’m talking about 2006.
That year, Markus Zusak gave us The Book Thief, an eerily beautiful coming-of-age book set in Nazi Germany whose virtues would be drowned out by the flood of trigger warnings modern gatekeepers would attach to it. Opening with the death of Liesel’s brother (tw:death, tw:child death, tw:parental abandonment) it includes a loud, abrasive foster mother (tw:abuse, tw:child abuse, tw:verbal abuse, tw:mental abuse) who is portrayed as a headstrong protector of her family (tw:abuse apologism) and the Jew they hide in their basement (tw:white saviorism), as well as a meek foster father who kowtows to his wife’s ways (tw:domestic abuse) and teaches Liesel to roll cigarettes (tw:smoking). It’s narrated by Death (are there even enough trigger warnings for that?) who, rather than condemn characters who have embraced Hitler and Nazism, points to the bitterness, grief, and misinformation catalyzing their fervor (tw:Nazi apologism).
For those of you readying a barrage of rebuttals to that summary, scrolling down to the comments to tell me that I stripped the book of any nuance—that’s the whole point. The Book Thief is a very nuanced story that conveys its message in shades of grey. Few characters are wholly good or wholly evil. Death is a neutral figure, condemning the horrors of war while pitying those who fight it no matter their side, portraying the nightmarish consequences of hatred while showing the reader how it is born. But since when has nuance ever mattered to someone riding high on a wave of righteous anger?
Moving on, 2006 was also the year My Chemical Romance released The Black Parade, which sees Death (tw tw tw) telling the story of The Patient, a man whose life was filled with war, depression, political unrest, PTSD, religious guilt, self-loathing, broken relationships, and near-constant suicidal ideation—a life that ends in his thirties from heart complications due to a long, painful, emotionally draining battle with cancer. Millions of depressed kids, teens, and adults have found catharsis in the album’s raw, honest lyrics, but those same lyrics would earn the band a #CancelMCR hashtag today. To wit:
Another contusion, my funeral jag/Here’s my resignation, I’ll serve it in drag: Mocking drag queens and men who crossdress. Using a very real expression of gender identity for shock value. Blatantly transphobic.
Juliet loves the beast and the lust it commands/So drop the dagger and lather the blood on your hands Romeo: Toxic relationship. Probably violently abusive. #DumpThePatient, lady, and #MCRStopRomanticizingAbuse.
Wouldn’t it be grand to take a pistol by the hand?/And wouldn’t it be great if we were dead?: Oh my fucking god, they’re romanticizing suicide now? How was this album even allowed to be made? Who let this happen and how soon can we #cancel them?
If you’ve heard the album, you know none of the above interpretations are remotely true. You’ve probably shaken your head at the Daily Mail’s infamous claim that My Chem promoted self-harm and suicide, but the sad truth is that if The Black Parade were released in today’s climate, that claim would probably be taken up by the very people who now consider themselves fans. The raw honesty that resonated with so many could easily be taken as a stamp of approval on the very suicides its songs have prevented. The anti-suicide anthem, “Famous Last Words,” could be ignored or twisted into a mockery of those who condemn suicide, and the darkly wholesome “Welcome to the Black Parade” music video would likely be taken as enticement toward teens who want to end their lives: “Look at all the cool things you’ll get to see once you’re dead and gone!”
Again, anyone who is even a casual fan of The Black Parade knows this is a deliberately malicious misreading of the material. My Chem’s music has been gratefully embraced by LGBTQ+ kids looking for a place to belong, and the band members have been outspoken in their support. They’ve been quoted, on multiple occasions, speaking out against suicide and self-harm. We know Parade is not pro-anything except pro-keep on living. But we know this because we gave the band a chance to tell us. We assumed good intent when we listened to their music, and so their intended message came across without interference. Were Parade released today, in the era of AED (Assume the worst, Exaggerate the damage, and Demand outsized retribution), the resulting furor (and refusal to hear their objections to the rampant misinterpretations) could very well have forced My Chem to vanish into obscurity.
And look. I’m not against content moderation wholesale. I actually think it’s done some good in the world of entertainment. Podcast hosts and book reviewers who warn audience members about triggering content allow them to avoid that content before they suffer an anxiety attack. As a librarian, I have personally and enthusiastically recommended Does the Dog Die?, a website (doesthedogdie.com) that tracks hundreds of anxiety triggers in media, to colleagues who work with kids so they can allow their students to request a different book or movie if the assigned one would cause undue distress. Trigger warnings can prevent anxiety attacks. Content moderation allows audiences to make informed choices.
But some things are toxic in high amounts, and when it comes to content moderation, we’ve long since passed that mark.
When trigger warnings are used not as honest labels of content, but as a means to frighten people away from material they might otherwise enjoy, trigger warnings become toxic.
When self-appointed content moderators tell others what interpretations they should take from a piece of entertainment, rather than allowing them to come to their own conclusions, content moderation becomes toxic.
When artists are afraid to produce their most honest work for fear their honesty will be twisted into something dark and ugly, the world of fandom becomes toxic.
Content moderation is not bad in itself. It can actually be a valuable tool for sufferers of anxiety, PTSD, and other disorders. But when it goes hand in glove with cancel culture, it becomes a monster, keeping audiences from discovering something they might otherwise enjoy by twisting the content into something it’s not.
By all means, tag your triggers. Warn about your content. But don’t tell your followers to expect something horrible that isn’t even there.
its gonna be wild when i have my next check up with the mental health service and I tell them that while I haven’t cut in months, i havethought about it and spent a lot of time staring at where the skin on my wrists is super translucent and my suicide plan has gotten more elaborate and romanticised
***trigger warning***(depression, body dysmorphia, ED, s*xual trauma ****
I know we hear about winter depression all the time but I get it when the weather gets nice. When it’s hot out & the streets fill with people. When shorts & skirts & arms out become the thing.
I’ve lived with mild -severe depression since childhood. And as the temps get above 75 it gets worse. This is for two reasons: a. I have social anxiety (no longer on meds for it, thankfully, it was worse during my college years) b. I’m not comfortable in my body & never was. Even when I was thin. Now I look back at those pics & though I was not healthy I’d wish I could have the smaller body back.
I’ve struggled with BDD since childhood. Was the only overweight kid of my siblings, got bullied for it by family & at school. I will never forget the time my aunt came over with donuts and when I went for one she says “oh you really don’t need one of these” get an apple. That shit was so wrong. My family didn’t talk about things & I ate to suppress feelings & s*xual trauma but they didn’t care. Even when I asked to see a therapist at 14 bc I knew I was not ok, they told me I was fine & just emotional.
By time Hs came around & I stopped eating. I alternated over those 4 years bt not eating or binging then p*rging. It got worse in college. But that was also the time I started getting noticed and seen as attractive. Then came all the “you look great” “attention from guys & girls” etc. I used to be ignored & all my friends got attention. I was the friend who had beautiful thin friends.
In college I became obsessed with exercising too. It was the smallest I ever was. And by then I was pretty sought after which was weird, like suddenly everyone noticed me & wanted to hook up with me. At the time, I still saw the chubby me. now as I look back & I was way too thin. My face was gaunt. But I didn’t see it, I never saw how small I got ..that’s a major part of body dysmorphia.
All of this is a long story but now in my mid thirties after lots of ptsd & my mom passing I’ve packed on a ton of weight . I’m physically what I thought I was before. Maybe bigger. And with it getting hotter outside & less clothes being worn I’m hyper aware I don’t look the way I want & im heavier than I want to be. I’ve always hated summers bc I don’t feel comfortable. I rather fall where I can wear cool layered clothes & actually feel confident. Summer feels too exposed like being on display. And having to show parts I don’t like bc it’s hot. Summers make me want to hide in doors until it’s over.
The other day I went out briefly with a small group of friends & one asked if I was hot (“aren’t you hot?) since I still had a jacket on. I know she wasn’t trying to be malicious but I have to say this is a no -no. Please don’t do this. If a person is covering up its bc they are not comfortable. When you ask stuff like this or point out that they’re sweating it literally makes it worse. Trust me, they know it’s hot, they know they are overdressed, it’s all for a reason. So if any of you have ever made such a comment, even if you mean well, please don’t. This was two days ago & I’m feeling so bad I canceled weekend plans bc I don’t want to be seen. It has an effect. (I did have a long talk with the person this morning too)
If you have a friend who is covered up, even in the summer or on a hot day, or if you notice they look hot , if they are overdressed, don’t make comments about it. Trust me, they barely made it out the door & likely tried on 20 outfits trying to find something they felt comfy in. It took work for them. Maybe suggest going somewhere to get a cold drink or sitting in the shade. That is a better thing to do.
With the size I am now you wouldn’t think I barely eat. I often find myself wishing I lost weight when depressed but I don’t, at least not now in my 30s, it just sticks to my body, even if I barely eat. I’ve had a recovery story I’m proud of & I just…I try everyday to not get back to messing up. But today I got out of bed & had oatmeal and little things count. Little steps are important. I’ll try to go for a walk later for fresh air.
With summer around the corner, and hot days already here I’m feeling at a low point. I won’t keep this post up but it’s my blog so what’s a personal post once in a while. Just had to get all this off my chest bc I feel like shit & the last 2 days have been awful. I’m feeling really raw & vulnerable atm.
warnings:blood, some cursing, injury, kisses, fluff, being jumped by guards (?)
a/n:this was another one that was originally split into 3 parts here, but i’ve put them together here to make for easier reading! :) + you are the equivalent of Alby in this - first in command of the girls maze/glade.
This was written a while ago, so sorry if it’s shitty lmao
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[Part 1] (first gif)
A boy comes up in the box with a note. You help him…
“It’sa boy.”
“What?” You step forward, looking down into the box. “How?”
“I don’t know,” Sonya replies. “Who’s gonna get him, though?”
“I will.” You jump down, landing perfectly and with ease. You kneel down next to the boy and notice something in his hand. Carefully, you pull it out and then look up in shock. The rest of the girls look confused.
“What is it?” One of them asks.
“It says..” You take a small breath. “It says… ‘he’s the last one… ever’.”
–
Later that night, Harriet walks quickly out of the medical hut. “He’s awake, Y/N. Says his name is Aris. But he’s confused and upset. We’re finding it hard to keep him calm.”
“Alright. Let’s go then.”
We make our way back to the hut. I walk in and see Aris sitting up with crossed legs. He looks so scared, and I feel instantly guilty. One of the med jacks speaks up. “He won’t keep still. Keeps tryna get outta here.”
I push open the door. “Let go.”
“What? Y/N, What if he runs-”
“You heard. Let the boy go! He’s scared, and he needs to know he’s not our prisoner here. Come on, Aris.”
The girls step back, and Aris stands up. I gesture for him to follow me out of the hut, and he does. The second we are out, he does as I expected since seeing him: he runs.
“Hey!” I quickly catch up to him, getting ahead and stopping him with my hand landing hard against his chest. “You don’t wanna do that.”
“What is this place? Am I trapped? What’s that?” He points to the doors of the Maze.
“So many questions, greenie. All will be answered, I promise you.”
“When? I don’t understand. Why can I only remember my name… n-nothing else.”
“Listen,” I sigh. “It happens to everyone. None of us can remember anything. But, as I said, answers will come later. For now, all you need to know is that you are safe. As safe as you can be… for now.”
Aris looks up finally, frowning at me. “For now?”
“Yes.” I put a hand on his shoulder and meet his eyes. “Because I’m working on getting us out of here. And I will.”
-
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[Part 2] (second gif)
After escaping the Maze with Aris, as you promised,you get separated…
Arislooks at you from across the dining table. You smile in reply to his worried expression. You reach over and place your hand on the table. He follows, placing his on top of yours. “We’re gonna be fine, A. We made it out.”
“I know, I just…” He whispers, pulling down his hood farther. “I don’t trust this place.”
“Me either, not completely… but we have food, clean clothes, showers, it’s-”
“Y/N.” You jump, looking for the source of the voice calling your name.
“No.” Aris leans forward, slightly bending over the table. “Don’t go with them. Please, there’s something wrong here.”
“Y/N!?” You look in the direction the voice comes from, realising that it’s Janson. “Is she here?”
You stand up slowly, shaking. “Yes..”
“Come on up here.” You stay still, looking back at Aris again, unsure and scared. He shakes his head.
Your heart rate picks up as you look around at the other teenagers who all stare at you with jealous looks. Most of them are convinced that they are here to be saved, to be taken 'home.’ You glance around for exits, but every single one is guarded by two or three armed men. You feel the tears begin to well in your eyes as your hand clutches Aris’s tighter.
Then suddenly, you are jolted forward by two pairs of arms on either side of you. You glance at the two guards who start forcing you forward.
“No! Y/N!”
“Aris! Aris!” You yell.
The force they pull you along with convinces you that they are not good people. Your arms are being practically crushed by the guards’ grip on you, and they don’t even notice your tears or shouts of pain. “Where are you taking me!?”
“Move!”
–
You follow behind a line of boys and girls. Each one disappears behind a curtain and then doesn’t come back. The line gets smaller and smaller, and you start to panic. Then one of the guards grabs you and pulls you aside. They turn you around quickly, clamping a hand over your mouth. You scream when the guard places a sharp object against the skin of your arm and slices long, jagged cuts into it. He then shoves you forward into view and gestures to another guard. "This one is injured. I’m taking her to get stitched up first.”
“Right. Be prompt.” A woman in a lab coat says.
The guard then takes you out into the corridor. You start kicking again. “Let go of me! Let go! Asshole, let me go!”
“Shh! Shh!” The guard pulls down their mask. It’s a woman, with black braided hair. “I’m here to help you. I’m with the Right Arm.”
“Help me!?” You show your bleeding arm, the red substance dripping along your skin and onto the floor. “You cut me!”
“To buy time. So come on, let’s go. Now.”
“How can I trust you!?”
She quickly reaches into her pocket, pulling out a rag and swiftly wrapping your wound. She ties a knot, causing you to hiss as the action makes the injury sting. “Follow me, and you will trust me. I promise.” You both start to run, the woman helping you along.
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[Part 3] (third gif)
Reuniting with Aris in the Scorch…
You gasp as you see him. He stares at you, standing between two taller boys, completely taken aback. “Y/N!”
“Aris!”
“Y/N? H-how?”
“Just come here!” You open your arms. Aris pushes through the boys, wrapping you in a hug. You cradle the back of his head, holding him as close as possible and planting a kiss on his cheek as you break away, one hand moving to cup his jaw. “I can’t believe it.”
“Me either. And you look so different.”
You glance down at yourself. Your hair is braided on one side, and it’s cut slightly shorter. You wear bottoms that have mismatched colour patches sewn into them. A scarf sits tightly, but not too much so, around your neck. “Not really. Just dirtier clothes.”
Aris chuckles lightly, his eyes flickering up and down your form. You could almost swear that you catch him blushing. “Can we- uh..”
“Yeah, let’s go catch up.”
–
“Comfy enough spot right here, I think.” You sit together in front of a fire. “So, who are the other guys?”
“Uh, there’s Frypan, Newt, the girl is called Teresa, and then there’s Thomas, their kind of leader." You rub your hands together, warming them up. "He was the one who I talked to about not trusting that place. I told him about you and how you just… disappeared after they called your name. Then… he helped me get out.”
“Oh, so I suppose I should thank this Tommy for that later then.”
Aris looks up. “Why?”
“Why? We might have never seen each other again if he didn’t help you. And I missed you, A.”
“I missed you too. How’d you get out anyway?”
You chuckle, remembering. “There was a guard there who wasn't really a guard. She actually pulled a damn knife out and cut me… to buy us some time, and then we ran for it. She was a member of the Right Arm. They have groups who go in and try to get kids out… every now and then.”
You pull up your sleeve, revealing a few jagged, raised scars. “Harriet left some ugly ass marks. I would be mad about it, but she saved my life, so.”
Aris lightly touches one of the scars and then traces it with his fingertips. He moves up and up until his hand sits atop yours. You squeeze it, holding his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back to you. We.. we didn’t have time. I wanted to, though. I kept asking, but it got too dangerous.”
“That’s okay, as long as you were safe. Thomas and his group helped me. It was a long journey, but we got here eventually.”
“I had no doubt that you could make it out… through the Scorch and…” Your voice lowers on the next words, “back to me.”
Aris smiles shyly. “I don’t know. I had a lot of help-.”
“No.” You interrupt him. “I always knew you were tough. Right from when you ran out of the med-hut that day.”
Aris turns shy, looking at his feet. “It kept me going. Thinking about the possibility that you could’ve gotten out. Or that if you didn’t… I needed to as a way of thanks for everything you’ve done for me.”
“A… I…”
“What?” He looks up again, and when your gazes meet, you can see the reflection of the fire in his kind eyes. He walks his hand over to yours, which lies flat against the ground and covers it, instantly making you feel warm and fuzzy inside. “Y/N, what?”
“I just, um- I think…”
“What?”
You sigh loudly. You are never the type to be at a loss for words. So instead, you dive into action, pushing yourself onto your knees and taking Aris’s face into your hands. You pause an inch away and feel him nod as his eyes flutter closed. The next thing you know, your lips are against his, delicate and sweet. “That…” You mutter when you pull away, cheeks hot.
“Oh.” Aris says, “well… that was nice. Thank you.”
“Yeah. Uh…” You nod before you both burst into a fit of laughter. Eventually, you both close the gap once again. You sink into each other’s embrace before falling asleep in front of the crackling fire.
a/n: i got yelled at for this one on wattpad, lmao. sorry!
Harry hits the ground with your body in his arms. His grip on you doesn’t loosen even a little. The cheers of your fellow students slowly die down.
Suddenly, a girl screams, deafeningly loud. Celebrations turn to whispered voices of worry, confusion, and shock.
“What’s going on?”
“A student has died.”
“What happened?”
“Is that- is that Y/N?”
Dumbledore rushes over to Harry’s side. He attempts to pull him away from your still-warm skinned body.
“No! No!” Harry screams, refusing to let go.
Dumbledore stops trying and, instead, kneels by Harry’s side.
“S/he asked me to bring her/his body back! I couldn’t leave her/him. Not there. S-S/he died for me. If it wasn’t for Y/N, I-”
Dumbledore strokes a hand over Harry’s hair, attempting to soothe his pain. “It’s alright, Harry. I understand. S/he’s home. You both are.”
“Y/N..” Harry continues to cry as friends and teachers gather around the harrowing scene.
Dumbledore gently closes your eyes, one hand still resting on your shoulder afterward. And several minutes later, Harry is finally coaxed away from your lifeless form. But not before he kisses your cheek, whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Th-thank you. I’ll never forget.”
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Taglist: (lmk if you wanna be tagged in future harry potter ficlets) @jiaraendgame
Honestly… They should have put up a trigger warning in the beginning of this episode. I understand its GoT and we know to expect horrible things… But I am having (and I can’t be the only one) terrible PTSD because of this episode. It made me physically ill and shaking and unable to control my flashbacks. I feel sick.
So we only made it 4 episodes in tonight, but I had Some Concerns I wanted to share. Mild spoilers under the cut.
There are multiple child deaths so far in the season - including a massacre in the first episode - and teen deaths as well, with clear shots of their bodies. There was also an abrupt and alarming gun battle involving machine guns and teenagers in 4x04, though none of the minors are injured or killed. If you’re struggling with the recent gun deaths in Uvalde, maybe steer clear for a while, on your own judgement. I typically compartmentalize pretty well and I was still struggling at times.
Imo, S4 has been the best season of Stranger Things since Season 1. That being said, I’ve seen lots of mentions of body horror trigger warnings and talk of how this season leans more into horror, and those warnings are legit.
However, I think the major trigger warnings should be around trauma. trauma of all types. This is a primarily a psychological horror, and I’ve found it personally super triggering at times, for reasons I still can’t pin down. Some of these triggers already occurred in earlier seasons, but some seemed considerably ramped up in this season.
To avoid spoilers, please see my trigger warnings under the cut:
bullying between minors (pretty bad, to the point of threatening death to the victim)
torture (moderately graphic) of both adults and minors
animal torture and death
parental abuse
eating disorders
alcoholism of a parent and resulting neglect of their child
ptsd
the above is around one character witnessing the violent death of another in a previous season. Issues of grief, guilt and a variety of ptsd symptoms, including headache, dissociation, etc. are dealt with, though framed with supernatural explantations at times.
And the following which I consider to be potentially major triggers for some folks, especially those with dissociative disorders:
religious trauma, especially around the Satanic Panic of the 1980s, mob mentality and the conservative targeting of folks who are different
weaponization of guilt against minors
institutional and/or government trauma and abuse
medical trauma
purposeful, targeted traumatization of minors
re-traumatization of minors for the purpose of using their traumatic memories to activate/weaponize them into violence
forced, premature redredging up of repressed, traumatic memories in minors
retraumatization of minors to the point of severe psychological and physical distress/danger
listen. if you’re thinking about starting a fight with someone because you think trigger warnings are bad, or a symptom of the newly “oversensitive generation” or whatever. just like. nope. just stop. take a walk. clear your head. think about it. do trigger warnings affect you negatively at all, in any way, ever? no? no. do they help people who need them? yes. even if you’ve had shit happen to you and you’re totally ok and don’t need warnings at all and other people should just – yep. they do. they help people. ok. ok now shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
This is mostly in response to alarms raised within the DinLuke community, but it applies across the board.
Keeping My Work Accountable
Tagging
If I miss tagging something that you have blocked, please let me know. It will get fixed immediately and I will appreciate you having pointed it out to me. You did me a favor.
Harmful Stereotypes
If you send me an ask and let me know that I’ve perpetuated a harmful stereotype against a marginalized community, you are helping me grow as a writer and a person. You will get a response. It will get fixed.
Anonymous Asks
I do not have Anonymous asks enabled. I understand that not everyone is going to want their ask answered publicly if they’re talking about sensitive or controversial material. If you request a private response you will get a private response.
If you are a content creator and you are posting triggering content without tagging it appropriately, I will block you. If you are sharing or actively supporting work that has triggers that are not appropriately tagged, I will block you.
This has become a big problem within the DinLuke fandom. There has been content posted with graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, and abusive relationships, then left entirely untagged or tagged with euphemisms.
That hurts people. It’s irresponsible. It’s cruel.
It needs to stop.
Silencing Lived Experience
The canon material that we are drawing from has problems with racism, sexism, and homophobia. Those problems have bled over into the fandom and largely been ignored. It has made the Star Wars fandom a hostile place for many marginalized people.
We are lucky enough to have people with lived experience in marginalized communities letting us know where the canon and fandom creators have been irresponsible and perpetuated harmful stereotypes. Anyone who is sounding the alarm on prejudice is doing the community they’re part of a favor. It is no less a favor if they are angry. There is a lot to be angry about.
I will be blocking anyone who silences the lived experiences of marginalized people. The most common example I’ve noticed is responding to marginalized people who say “this is a harmful stereotype” with “live and let live” or “creators don’t owe you anything.”
We should be honoring people who call attention to these problems and taking their feedback to heart, but instead people who have spoken out on this have been on the receiving end of harassment and silencing tactics. Some of them have been driven out of the SW fandom entirely.
This is detrimental to the fandom. We are losing some of our best voices. We are empowering prejudice within our community.
Just for everybody’s well-being, this is an announcement!
Most of the images here will be NSFW, of genitals, and involving trans people. I will tag NSFW, for easy browsing purposes, but for triggers and whatnot, I’m not gonna because if you don’t wanna see junk than what are you doing on this blog?
If there are any specific tags you want us to use, let us know! I just don’t wanna tag things that are the main theme of this blog haha
A/N: This is the last of the requests I got when I put out the call. My brain went a weird way as it does, and this is the result. Special thanks to @idreamofhazeleyesand@negans-lucille-tblr for the beta help!!
Warnings: I will put warnings in the tags because they will be spoilers. This is angsty as hell, though.
Word count: 958 words
They didn’t talk about it when Dean threw scissors, letting Sam win the battle for who got to share the massive king-sized bed with Jo. Maybe Sam hadn’t figured out that Dean always throws scissors when he’s willing to lose. Or maybe he had and just didn’t want to look at it too closely. Either way, the whole thing had been performance. All three of them could have slept in the thing without touching each other, it was that big, but Dean refused to jam himself into Jo’s space. Sleeping next to her was just a bad idea all around. Taking the loss would mean privacy, too. No worries about who might notice where his eyes rested if there was no one to rest them on and no one to notice. Besides, Sam would probably complain endlessly about his Gigantor body being stuck in either the teeny loveseat or ultra-modern, kind of stiff recliner. Better for Dean to take the hit.
They didn’t talk about it the next morning when they all looked the worse for wear because no one got much sleep. Sam and Jo had a certain glow about them, of course, but Dean was just miserable and muttered something about noise-canceling headphones if this was going to be a regular thing between the two of them and went out for breakfast. He kept the ache in his chest to himself, knowing that Jo chose the better brother. He stood by his decision. He didn’t even bitch about his sore back and achy knees.
Whelp, I guess I signed up for my heart being broken today. Can’t blame anyone. And this was heartbreaking, Michelle. I don’t know whom to feel bad for the most in here. And I love love love how subtly you imply things and more importantly emotions. I’m in love with it.
