#her mother! who had also been shot! had to drive them to the hospital!

[hobiespick]

Heya! I was wondering if you got any headcanons for Sam Winchester x werewolf! Reader, except, reader can actually turn whenever she (or gn if you want) wants, and the only real thing a full moon does is force her to be in her werewolf form (aka force her to keep the wolf teeth and claws out for no reason)

The thing that should not be

Pairings : Sam Winchester x reader

a/n : FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HI, HELLO, IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG I SUCK SO BAD, IM SO SORRY. My requests aren't open (yet) but its not even your fault I should have 100% specified that, but this is my first ever ask and ur also one of my favourite moots and I didn't want to dissapoint so here are some fuckinf cute Sam x Werewolf!Reader. I felt the carnal need to write a metric fuckton of context before getting into the actual headcanons (which are very long I have no idea if they can be considered as hcs) so the reader gets beaten up by earth-shattering plot purposes :3. Sammy juicy headcanons start when you see the '🧿' emoji if you don't wanna read the context (melodramatic sigh). And yes the title of the fic is based on the metallica song :). as always, enjoy my shitty thoughts <3

Warnings: angst with comfort (no don't clap it's fine, omg ur makin me blush); guess who joined the cool kids club and uses "____." instead of "Y/n"; literally a flash of gore, shitty dad(s), fake death, mentions of suicide, Sam looks at you and goes DO YOU WANT M-; Dean being himself; reader is also a hunter and has been raised like that (fml); Dean makes a twillight refrence; reader is frankenstein coded in the most nuanced way, Mary Shelley please don't haunt me; Dean is very happy to have a bestfriend/sister :)

word count: 8,102

- Okay, so for starters, the fact that you aren't actually a monster (you don't get the urge to kill or wreak havoc) is actually a supernatural miracle.

Your parents haven't talked to you since you called them the night you were hunting a werewolf and told them, horror-struck between sniffles and voice cracks, that it bit you, and you’re going to turn, and you’re horrified, and you’re going to drive home to put a pistol in your father's hand and hopefully stop you from turning in the thing you shouldn't be.

Your father replied, after successfully not saying a word besides "Hey, kid-" before getting cut off by you and your hiccups. He sank his teeth into the inside of his cheek, enough to draw blood.

"You are not to come home; your mother won't bear to see you like this."

Your father objected before telling you you can finish the job by yourself; you always have.

He abruptly ended the phonecall like you weren't his daughter, more like an annoying salesman. You don't know what he'll say to your mother after that call; that was the hospital, and you tragically died? "Died a hero.." Your father would say when he described another hunter's tragic passing at the dinner table—paranormal tragic passing. So paranormal that your mother had knocked on wood and prayed it wouldn't get you or your family.

So you don't call, It's really me, dad. I'm fine, I figured it out by myself. How could you? after him suggesting it's better to kill yourself than take a shot at finding a solution together? You would rather have him believe you're dead. Or at least cry with you; it's okay, honey. come home; it'll be okay, spend the last days at home, please-

The last word you get from him is a text message you are too quick to open on your flip-phone to see the next day. When you rub at your eyebags after tracking down a witch, the witch. It was the second day when everything about you felt off; you were squemish, anxious, and haven't left your motel room all day. if you get this—the message read, "if you get this?!" if you get this, if you get this, if you get this—your brain repeats it over and over, taking the words apart and tattooing itself that phrase, because it held much more meaning to it than your father probably didn't intend; he would hear it if he read it before sending, you thought, that little 'if' haunting and tormenting like a damn demon. if you haven't already killed yourself; if you haven't already turned into something that took my daughter, my pride and joy, away from me; if you haven't already died–

- speaking to you like he's directly referring to the disease in your veins. Your brain moves on and reads the next ridiculous waste of your attention. I wanted you to know I told your mother that it was the hospital I was talking to yesterday, calling that you’re dead, house fire, so no remains to pick up—Damn, you know him or what? Even your fake death is stripped away from it's respect—"no remains to pick up"—like a toppled statue, a monument of what was once a hero (in dad's old-fashioned monster-hunting world), shattered and insignificant, no longer breathing or living, if you ever even had. Or a tree struck by lighting, again, "no remains to pick up" no meaningful remains or genuinely nothing, just a memory of another young hunter who died 'tragically'. You could imagine your tombstone with an even dumber epitaph to match it and an empty or nonexistent grave lying six feet underneath for closure. Your eyes move on, there will be a funeral with no grave, of course, I just wanted you to know that your mother and everyone else is devastated, we miss you, sugar. I love you, kid. Your father had overestimated your suicidal tendencies, and the way he didn't try to save his daughter in order to not go against the rules and possibilities of hunting only showed you how much he loves you.

So you track down the witch. You barely make it to her doorstep when she opens it with a too reassuring smile, saying your name and that she expected you, even going as far as offering you tea after opening the door and letting you in, to which you declined. You're not an idiot. But you do sit down, forced, when she, Willow Thorne, won't have you, a guest, standing up, a whole damn hunter being forced to sit down and accept being treated kindly like you deserve. When you walked in, the entire image of a satanic worshipper who sold her soul to demons and hexed everybody—that you betted all your life savings fitted the description of Willow shattered and laughed in your face.

Her home was filled with plants hanging and resting in every corner she could place; various crystals were sitting in cute porcelain plates like candy, candles of different colors on a bookshelf filled with books like The Language of Flowers, Astronomy for Beginners, and Sigils. Even more crystals, bigger and taller ones on a purple tablecloth. The house is adorned in shades of dark purple, violet, green, and warm colors. This home was a whimsigothic musem that would send your thirteen-year-old self into a shrieking, excited mess. Your parents never let you own crystals or a tarot deck; they were too afraid you'd turn darkside one way or another. well, mommy, daddy, if you could see me right now with lycanthrope blood pumping through my veins.

Willow Thorne is a wiccan type of witch; she does not receive her power from demons; she receives her magic from nature and probably practices her witchcraft the way she sees fit. This doesn't help build back the distrust you were trained to have in her. You flinch when you feel a tail curling around your bouncing leg; you glance down, and your eyes are met with a black cat's green ones—this must be her familiar—the little words on his purple collar reading 'Creek'. She gives you another flash of her warm smile and starts talking about her cat. This can't be real. Your every instinct screams that you should take her down or that she will take you down. Your options shrink the longer you stay. You keep a hand anxiously fiddling with your belt, thinking about the gun in your waistband. She's deceiving you with honeyed words and unassuming appearance; who the fuck knows, maybe the cat is manipulating you too. Throwing up would be the calmest reaction you could have right now, because the thoughts in your head started going at each other's throats and doubting in this situation could get you killed. Thoughts like, fuck her, her cozy house with purple witchy twitchy girl interior, and her affectionate black cat she mentioned she rescued when nobody would because of superstitions—you curse in your head, you're not actually upset at her although you do not let your guard down, you're upset at yourself for being so easily coaxed into trusting her, it's all too easy, and it is intimidating you.

You're pretty sure you're gonna rip your vocal cords out of frustration and an overall feeling of overwhelmingness; everything seems to piss you off today, even more than usual. How are you good?! All bright and beaming with nothing but positivity. You're not supposed to be good! I have believed all my life you aren't!..are you like me too? A thing that should not be? Before breaking down and crying about your situation, and if you did, she would make you that tea and rub your back with her hand that radiated ease and made you slump your shoulders with relief.

Before you get other fun thoughts like Am I on the wrong side of the war? You start discussing bussiness since you forgot that's what your here for. Even if your eyes water like a little kid after being scolded for something they didn't do, your voice is nowhere near close to sounding like one. You demand a cure, bargaining for a deal to stop the lycanthropy metamorphosis you feel taking over little by little and make you human again. If she can't, you have a gun with silver bullets in your trunk and your will written out, but by now it probably has no significance.

Much to your disappointment, she—Willow—insisted you called her, tells you she cannot take away your curse, but she can soothe it a little, keep it in a cage locked deep into your subconscious. In exchange, she could ask for fucking anything in the world, but she wants loyalty.

"Define, loyalty." You ask through gritted teeth, yeah, that will stop the tears, definitely, great intimidation skills, _____ .

"I'm talking about respect, mutual aid, when it all comes down for me, when I get threatened by a hunter, I want you to be there. I need you to have my back." She admitted, studying your eyes trying to reslove the conflict in them, anything that could give her hope. You couldn't explain this to anyone, ever, Yeah I almost turned into a werewolf once but my witch friend did a ritual on me, so i'm all good now.

Willow is now sitting on an ottoman facing her couch, where you're sitting. Her hands fidget with her bracelets until she clasps them together, and she is leaning towards you. Her gentle tone is imbued with gentle authority that commands her mutual respect without making her overbearing. Keeping steady eye contact, she is discussing serious matters with a serious tone like she should. You can't lie, it catches you off-guard, it herds you in the corner and softly shakes your shoulders, forcing you to listen.

You'd be every synonym in the dictionary for the word 'idiot' if you hadn't accepted this deal. You shake hands, and the warm smile she wears causes a domino effect, making you do the same, even if you had been crying.

It's a funky ritual. She makes you lay on the couch while she lights all sorts of candles; she closes the curtains even though it's already dark so light cannot come in. The only light present is the salt lamp in the far corner and the numeruous lighted candles. She even has to kick Creek out of the room, much to the cat's protests outside the door. They slowly come to a stop as he finds something that's more interesting than whatever ritual his owner is cooking up with a guest—that he feels drawn to for whatever reason. You feel nervous, and she feels nervous too, because you are. Willow reassures you and tells you that after it ends you will pass out for a while, but that's fine because she says you can spend the night if she isn't pushing it.

The celling becomes your newest fascination, and you study every small bump and gray spot in order to distract your mind from... well, thinking. Not for the ritual, but for reassurance, she lies and says you have to hold her hand. Her warm hand against yours seems to punch out of your lungs every doubt whether this will work or not and the sadness your father produced with an unfatherly amount of bluntness and cold parenting that was the verbal equivalent of stabbing your spine and twisting the knife, but you can't pull out the knife, well, you can try, but it will hurt even worse and it will infect spreading yellow or purple marks around it–. She—her hand—has the ability to make you breathe again without feeling like you have leg irons around your neck dragging it down and hands squashing your lungs to bits. She speaks incantations in what you know is latin and instructs you to close your eyes. You swear you hear a candle stop burning in the process—something you can't physically hear, but you had. You can make out a few words (your ears keep ringing and something is happening because you hear her voice; it's distorted and weird, but she told you, strictly, not to open your eyes, so you don't). Words like: lupus-wolf, tollere-take away? You're not sure on that one; that's what three straight days of crying might do to one, mutare- which means change. Okay, that was a nice distraction now what el–

You feel the imprint of a huge dog-like paw pressing into your Adam's apple and cutting off your breath. She obviously takes notice by the way you're writhing and choking and swatting away at nothing—something you're trying to fight even with closed eyes, but there is nothing there. Your palm doesn't make contact with anything. Quickly, Willow chants something you're too busy choking to catch. The pressure on your throat dissolves, and you can breathe again. She calms her own breath and squeezes your hand. When she doesn't feel you squeeze back, she remembers that you're supposed to pass out after the spell. Willow drapes a blanket on you and goes off to order something to eat. When she opens the living room door, Creek doesn't hesitate to run in and settle on your chest. The cat purrs as he patiently waits for you to wake up.

You wake up fifteen minutes later with the smell of food flooding your nostrils, stronger than it has ever been before. It's almost like it's sitting right under your nose. You open your eyes, and the smell has a color, and you can clearly see how it snakes its way in from the kitchen into the half-open door. Your nails feel heavier than usual. This is hopefully a fever dream. But the food isn't here, nor is Willow; you can hear her humming a song in the kitchen, Voodoo Chile by Jimi Hendrix.

The weight of the shadow on your chest brings you back to earth, and you run your hands through his black fur with closed eyes as your head falls back onto the couch. The feeling of fur on your fingertips feeding to your serotonin levels rising. Creek seems to know what it's like to be disowned by your own father and forced to have a fake death in order to 'die' in a way that won't make your mother think you were cursed, or worse, that the whole family is now. Creek notices you're awake and gets off you, but not before making biscuits.

"Thanks, Creek." You mumble before pushing yourself up in a sitting position with a groan.

You can feel the rich, velvety, dark green rug beneath your socks; you would have appreciated it properly if you could actually see the details woven into it. Your eyes keep focusing and unfocusing like they're getting adjusted, and the room doesn't seem so dark anymore. God, how long did you pass out? As you tried to gather your thoughts (if the spell was easy on you enough to actually leave some), memories of the ritual came flooding back—the chanting in latin, the flickering candle(s), the punching smell of herbs, the murder attempt from a wolf spirit/ghost?! who the hell knows anymore? Now you were wide awake, and everything felt different. If it weren't for the fucking ritual that was just performed on you, you would've blamed the faint ringing in your years, shitty eyesight, and banging headache on a terrible hangover or a cold so bad it would make your throat ache for the tea your mom would make you when your immune system failed you. She promised she would teach me how to make it. Your grief echoed to you.

You rub at your temples at thats when you notice why did your nails feel heavier than usual. You had fucking claws, well, not animal claws, but they are honorably elongated and sharper than they had ever been. As you looked up from your lap, your eyes fell on a mirror.

A tall mirror leaning on its back legs, with black edges and details on the rim, you would again appreciate if you had the ability to see a single thing in the distance.

Your eyes widened, mortified, seeing yourself. It looked like one of your parents's worst nightmares. Something out of a dream your mom would have—a nightmare so nasty and vivid she would be forced by her paranoia to get up and check that you're still in bed sleeping soundly.

Your eyes were no longer the familiar color you have seen in the mirror or in old photos of your family members you've grown to love. The shade wasn't even close to yours; crazy how one small change made such a big difference in your appearance. Your pupils were slitted vertically, shrinking only to dilate a little once again, getting adjusted. You slowly got up on foal legs and fell on your knees in front of the mirror. Even if you didn't think it was night because you weren't seeing darkness, the light of the moon shone down on the mirror and floor thanks to the now open curtains. That's when your vision stopped unfocusing and finally cleared.

You were now looking at yourself. It felt incredibly alien and familiar at the same time; you looked at yourself every day, whether it was the mirror in your bathroom at home, a crappy motel one that faced the bed (which you cover up with a scoff each time), or a reflection in the car of your vanity mirror checking yourself before going in a precinct, pretending to be a reporter (the things middle-aged pigs would confess to a doe-eyed girl from the press..).

You gently pulled the corner of your upper lip only to reveal your enlarged and sharpened front canines. Your hand fell and instead went to cover your mouth in order to muffle your sobs. You must have done a horrible job because the second you slapped the hand over your mouth, you heard Willlow gasp as if she felt it too.

She drops the food she was unpacking and runs in, taking a moment to calm her heaving chest in the doorway; her hands were holding it like an earthquake had shaked her up; even her round glasses had slipped and rested on the tip of her nose.

"_______, you woke up!" she exclaims cheerfully. "I was just—how do you fee-?"

She kept stuttering and cutting herself off. Willow didn't need to say anything else; she saw the tears welling up in your eyes and felt the same shock you did from the kitchen.

🧿🧿🧿- later on, you have to bump into the Winchesters one way or another

- and it's exactly on a full moon when this time the ball isn't in your court and you don't get to decide whether you turn or not.

- your claws are sharp, your eyes have changed their original color completely with your pupils vertically slit, and your teeth (conveniently) remain the same; only a few of your front canines are enlarged and sharpened.

- as for senses, it's downright spectacular.

- you can hear deer stepping on tree branches, foxes running, and owls hooting when you're driving by the forest

- you smell how many people are in a room

- you have night vision (yes, your eyes to the flashy thingamajiggy when someone blinds you with their flashlight).

- as a hunter, you already know that your claws and fangs can rip out a human heart.

- ironically, as this whole situation is, you hunt alone on the principle that you don't long for companionship as some lycanthropes do.

- you've turned into a literal killing machine with no instinct to kill, so hunting with others is off the table since at the first sign of a threat (they think you are one, but you really aren't), a hunter exterminates.

- you meet the Winchesters on a ghoul hunt

- you have taken the case before them, but when you couldn't get anywhere with identifying whatever evil being was tormenting the locals with their mere presence, you thought about ditching it since it doesn't look like your type of thing and took the consideration that maybe humans were fucking around this time.

- so when you heard the FBI are in town investigating the case (detective Page and Plant), you placed that town in your rear view mirror; they got it covered..right?

- but something didn't feel right- it wasn't the shame of leaving a case with your tail between your legs (pun intended) with the weak motive, 'Maybe humans are really fucking around this time.'

- something wasn't right, so even if you were tired, you abruptly stopped the car and went over your research spread out on the flat of your closed trunk

- the slits of your eyes dance over the words on your laptop, your papers, and an old lore book you fought tooth and nail for. When you realized it's a ghoul you're dealing with, you turned the car around and went over every speed limit like hellhounds were scratching at your tires. It was your job to not let anybody else get hurt or someone else's grave be violated

- as the light of the moon shined down on you and your wild eyes looked back at you from the rear view mirror, you knew you couldn't have anyone see you, you had to be invisible

- *time skip* (as much as it pains me 'cause i am a sucker for details :))- you swoop in time to save the Winchesters

- and if they weren't tied up, they would've started fighting you too, because why was there a whole ass werewolf fist fighting a ghoul?? John trained them like Spartan warriors, but nothing prepared them for something like this.

- so they sit there like:??????

- they watch you take out a fucking ghoul all by yourself

- the head of the ghoul's person they're impersonating rolls onto the floor. You have to remind yourself it's not a real person; it's an evil spirit who kills to feed

- by the time you wipe the blood off your face, smearing it a bit in the process, and cut the ties holding the hunters loose, Sam is unnable to look away from your slit eyes adorned by a strange color that strangely suits you

- literally hearts in his fawn brown eyes like you still don't have blood on your face and you aren't trying to catch your breath; also, you took a nasty punch to your cheek, and he's pretty sure it's gonna leave a bruise, but he totally doesn't care, why? why do you ask?

- by the way Sam is scrunitizing you, and oh yeah, Sam is scrunitizing you, you're sure you're gonna have to ditch since you've been in this situation before and you know how it always ends

- there was no 'explaining yourself' to hunters when they saw you under the full moon or when they saw you change because you had to.

Before you can even open your mouth they have their methaphorical pitchforks sharpened and torches lit up, prepared to slaughter you, and if you're honest, you can't even blame them for it because you would've done the same.

- Dean rubs his wrist with his right hand; the imprint of the rope is still fresh on his skin like a tattoo. Sam focuses on not choking when you catch him staring.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean thinks out loud. You take a big lungs-exploding sigh and give a shot at introducing yourself since they seem more civilized than most hunters are

- Sam geeks out about you

He doesn't question you because he is suspicious (he has the right to be but surprisingly isn't). He has to feed his noisy, information-hungry brain or he will spontaneously combust

- "Are your senses even more enhanced during the full moon, or are they the same?"

- "Can you smell when somebody is afraid? Like the hormones from their pores?"

- "Is it annoying to always have super hearing? Like has it ever caused you to be..I don't know.. Anxious? It did?" He mourns over you, trying to imagine himself in your situation but possibly can't.

- "I'm really sorry you had to go through a whole..change all by yourself, but it just shows how strong you are, some don't even make it 'til the end."

- After you were done explaining to Sam (to which he gladly sat himself down and listened) how sometimes you genuinely consider you're inevitably going to become what you hunt and how in the beginning you and your senses have butted heads, how you had no idea how to go through it without having panic attacks because the click of a doorknob was sensitive to your hearing like a veteran was scared of fireworks, how you accidentally ripped a motel door off its hinges, a result of you being slightly irritated, still getting acoustumed to your abilities. Dean would go.

"..Do dog whistles work on y–" Before getting an elbow in the ribs by a glaring Sam.

- more shit Dean would ask you for the sake of his own little curiosity

- "Is 'bitch' even more offensive now?"

- "Who do you think would win in a fight? You or Jacob Black?"

- "What do I smell like? Y'know, since you can pick up on scents and alldat."

- Dean calls you Cujo

- It's the one nickname you can get behind, asking him what he thought about the book, and he's like, "Oh, I watched the movie, but i know a little. Sammy used to rattle on and on about his books when he was younger."

- if you think about it, an alais doesn't sound so bad in theory or practice while hunting.

- it's secretive, the boys don't need to divulge your real name, and it's actually high-key kickass (I literally watched Cujo just so I know what I'm talking about, a.k.a. the second reason why it took a millenium and a half for me to post these; the first reason is that i suck)

- Dean is thrilled to get to call you that- he gets this fucking smirk, like a dad about to drop the worst joke ever made on everyone, you and Sam brace yourselves for what's coming with matching eyerolls-

"Let's fuck em' up, Cujo."

- "Cujo, dude, you're just itching to raise a little hell right now, aren't you?"

- "Uh- a bacon cheeseburger, soda, yo, Cujo whaddya want? My treat >:]."

- "Cujo, put on that song you were listening to; I had it in my head the entire hunt." (I didn't mention the genre or artist bc I like to imagine Dean listening to everyone's fav category; ex. I imagine Dean screaming bikini kill lyrics whenever i'm sad)

- if you thought the 'canine/wolf' teasing stopped here, you're so painfully wrong

- Dean made you a mixtape, because that's his love language apparently, with only songs that are about werewolves

- I feel like it took him a longer time to find a suitable title than the songs themselves

- he has all of the possible picks on a piece of paper that stays in the pocket of his fifty pound leather jacket.

- the titles are: Songs to transform into; The howlin' hits; Songs that will make you wag your tail—that one is crossed out because he knows you will make him eat the tape if he does settle on it; Love at first bite; and finally the one he settled for is Songs you can sink your teeth into. Dean smiled at his work, it didn't feel like a prank anymore it was more like a gift and he didn't feel any ugly emotion or insecurity try to pull him back into not getting attached to you.

The final touch was a note saying

"Hey, Cujo, thought you might want these howlin' hits whenever you need to tune the world out.

P.S. : Sam told me to add one of the songs, it's that punk stuff you like - Dean"

- The songs he prudently picked out are these : Of Wolf and Man by Metallica; Bark at the Moon by Ozzy Osbourne; I Was A Teenage Werewolf by The Cramps; Wolf Moon by Type O Negative; Witch Wolf by STYX; Run with the Wolf by Rainbow; Lycanthropy by G.B.H and others.

- you accidentally made a kid cry once- a ball was literally flying towards you and you caught it just in time, thanks to your reflexes

- instinctively, you turned around in time and caught the ball as your claws grew and sank into the inanimate object

- it's all "Nice relfexes, _____" praise from Dean and proud and shy smiles from Sam until the owner of the ball starts sobbing in front of you

- it's a kid, a boy with red hair, no older than six years of age

- but we all know Dean's charm is basically made for this

- so he handles both the kid and his mom (flirting with a milf all day, poor Dean)

- you keep apologizing to the kid and the mom, but Dean just waves you off; you don't understand his generosity until Sam tells you that you accidentally secured Dean's hookup for tonight.

- Since Dean is not coming, not until early morning, nor is he there to call you and Sam 'dorks', you and his younger brother take advantage of it.

- you guys have a movie night with the most random movies ever

- it is chaotic

- from rom-coms you switch to a world war II documentary, then you watch re-runs of House MD on tv.

- Dean stumbles in at like five something a.m. and takes a picture of you and Sam snuggling under a blanket while the tv light casts shadows of orange and cold colors on your defenseless expressions.

- but can somebody actually blame you? Or Sam, for that matter?

- honorably want to mention your body heat is also enhanced

- You and Sam were sitting with your sides pressed into each other

- you were radiating pure furnace body heat, how could he not be sleepy??

- but that's not the only reason Sam knocks out so heavily

- it's you he's sitting down with (relaxing for once in his life) watching a ridiculous episode of House with thirteen ads rolling every ten minutes accompanied by lazy talking as if you're not debating books only you and morally grey forty-year-olds read (where that Kansas drawl of his is much more audible and pretty), after a marathon of fatally random movies

- younger Sam who had trouble going to sleep/getting some shut-eye because Dean and John are out late on a hunt.

- Sam especially couldn't fall asleep because Dean wasn't there

- it was a different story when Dean was at the age where he couldn't hunt but he could use a pistol and take care of his little brother

- both of them in a relatively warm motel room, alone (since John fucked off to god-knows-where, to hunt a monster they are never to breathe in the direction of as a conversation subject.)

- little Sammy (age where he believed nothing could beat his older brother) could peacefully fall asleep knowing Dean stays up and watches over him like a hawke, reading comic books by the tv light

- where little Dean keeps chanting in his head what Sammy is supposed to do after eating his dinner.

- Watch tv or look at the comic with me (Sammy can't read yet), brush his teeth, then tuck him in bed.

- now pre-teen Sam can hardly sleep

- he is plagued/tormented by flashing images his overthinking big brain mades of a thousand situations where his family got hurt, if not even killed

- Sam's grip on the shotgun is shaking; it shakes even harder when John's bark booms over his shoulder, right into his ear.

- "Sammy, dammit, what are you going to do when a demon breaks through the door and me and your brother aren't there to protect you?!"

- but Sam isn't twelve anymore

- he's a responsible adult

- snuggled beside you and denying any eepy allegations you decide to accuse him of

- so, the heat you contribute, the soft speaking on the tv, the darkness of the room, you being there is enough to lull Sam to sleep

- studies show you feel sleepy around the people you trust ;)

- the position you two fell asleep in cannot be described in any other word than childish

- somehow you would catch two kids, sleeping over at one of the other's houses, knocked out, and snoring in the same bed after watching a horror movie

- on one of the two queens the motel room contributes (the one closest to the tv) you and Sam have made this fluffy nest full of pillows, a huge blanket, plus a random quilt Bobby pulled out of thin air and gave it to you when he heard you complaining about the petal-thin blankets motels have during cold ass weather.

- When you both lied down on the bed with your legs greedily streched out, backs pressed against the headboard, and your head is resting on the wall while Sam, magically, was still able to hold his up after the very long day all of you endured. You predicted one of you wouldn't survive being in each other's presence and make it out not asleep, and god, you hoped it was you.

- Sam's breathing slows down after a while of comfortable silence, and you’re sure he's dying until you spare one quick glance and see him, downright snoozing with his lips parted without a care in the world, ghosts and eerie phenomenons weren't bothering or needing him now.

- during all of the movies and documentary and fuckin lazy intellectual commentary nobody else would have the patience to discuss with you or Sam, he somehow migrated on the bed/nest with his side flush against yours, like a magnet to another; it was inevitable not to stick together, literally.

- your shoulder was now pressed into his forearm, your head no longer resting uncomfortably, and his temple is resting on the top of your head.

- but (unfortunately) you weren't hugging or anything- like a mirror or a copycat, Sam has his arms crossed, just like you, so maybe that's why you didn't wake up full on cuddling, that does sound good though your brain mourns

- When you do wake up, the only slight change you notice is that you're sleeping on your side..so is Sam. You're facing Sam's neck and chin, and up close and personal, you can actually count the too-sexy amount of moles he modestly posesses. His arm serves the role of a pillow underneath his head, and the other is resting with his palm down facing the mattress.

- with Sam taking up the entire attention of your senses, it takes an emmbarassing while for you to hear the shower running, Dean; did he see you both like this? Was he going to mention it? Your gut fills with a small dose of embarrassement, preparing you for what's yet to come, and it protests at that.

- much displeasure from your senses to your brain and your heart that wanted to breathe Sam in more as he (hopefully) breathes you out, you turn on your other side, unconsciously careful not to disturb Clifford over here, and you try to determine what time it is from your surroundings alone.

- the light blue sneaking its way through the dark closed curtains and the slight chill in the air points all arrows to seven or eight in the morning, you could go back to sleep.

- Dean wasn't just feeling gracious; he didn't and wasn't even planning on sparing you or Sam

- that day, when he separately gets the both of you alone, he has the exact same conversation with different but not so different people.

-"You should've seen the two of you this morning when I came in, two kittens snoring together, it was fuckin' adorable." Dean teased–

—Monday, 13:34 p.m. — as he tossed his clothes into one of the laundromat's washing machines, making Sam paralyze in his seat as his fingers started fidgeting with the edges of his hoodie.

"You did?.." He inquires, not knowing what exactly Dean saw just this morning. Sam only woke up a little after you went back to sleep. He swore his cheek must have burned a hole through the pillow with how hard he was blushing. You were so close. There was a good distance between the edge of the bed and you. So your back was flush against his chest. If you're wondering where his arm went, it was around your waist. Sam—your own personal seatbelt. He probably thinks it's his fault too. Dean never ceased to describe Sam as a 'cuddlebug'.

"Uh-huh" Dean hums a confirmation, acting casual, scarily casual. Sam feels the teasing in Dean's tone; it's there, but Dean is not fully teasing yet, like he wants Sam to confess something first after boiling in his embarrassement for long enough.

—Monday, 20:02 p.m. — as he pulled the Impala into the driveway of a fast-food place you were so invested in you even forgot the name of; you froze and looked at him, searching for any emotion that might give him away, but Dean was a brick wall, a slight very Dean siginificant parted lips smirk paired with squinted eyes over the wheel, carefully driving into the driveway. Even the car seemed to betray you in your moment of weakness because you swear the volume is lower than it was a few seconds ago. Ozzy Osbourne's laugh can still be heard from the speakers, even if it's barely audible over your racing thoughts or your hearing trying its hardest to pick up on Dean's thoughts. The rythym of the drums seems to sync up with your heartbeat, or the other way around, you're not sure. Over every little sound, there still seems to be a little silence to fit in. You swallow a lump in your throat.

"..We had a movie night, we just fell asleep like that, that's all." You mumble, and Dean starts to feel a little bad for letting you be a victim to his spotlight-teasing and giving you no shade to reprieve to or show his undying approval.

Somehow, you still worry if Dean believes you have ruined the dynamic, and now he's cornering you to tell you to stop it or something (overthinking anxiety worms are eating away at your critical thinking skills). You just worry about what he thinks of this. You still worry about the Dean who doesn't correct random people on cases who mistake you and Sam for a couple; the Dean who just has to leave some arsenal or luggage in the front, just so you are forced to share the backseat with Sam; the Dean who always has to group you and Sam in a category when he teases you both (Geeks, nerds, smartasses, etc.). Cupid works hard, but Dean Winchester works harder.

"Hey-, Cuj- Doll." Dean sputters, switching glances between you and the wheel.

This didn't go as he planned it would, and now he is facing the consequences. The way you shrink in your seat and the way you avoid catching his eye makes Dean feel like a douchebag. If he didn't know any better he would thinks he is, but then you would actually be able to read him like a book and tell him otherwise. You hear the desperation in his voice; your candle of hope comes back to life and lights up. Your head turns to look at him with pleading eyes. Please don't be angry, please don't kick me to the curb, let me stay in the backseat a little more. Dean lets out a shaky exhale that turns into a laugh; he runs a hand down his face. You've watched him do that every time he got jumpscared by the monthly spirit with unfinished business. It was something you imagined Dean picked up from John, the picture in your head so clear (at least from the pictures you saw)— a tired dad in an old squeaky motel chair with a whiskey glass in his hand doing the same motion Dean was doing right now. Dean would mimic his father's gestures to try to look more like him; he didn't have his brunette curly hair, his dark brown eyes, Sam did.

Dean never had his voice either; he only perfected his bark to match his dad's. Sam hated the way his reflection resembled his father, Dean was either jealous of him for it or couldn't wrap his head around as to why his brother hated being their dad, probably the latter. Dad, at least in Dean's eyes, was a hero, a figure to be admired and emulated. But Sam? He didn't even have to try. Sam and John were so alike that they clashed constantly like two stubborn stags locking antlers in a duel.

"..Dean?" You call him out; you had no idea what was going on in his head; it would be pretty damn nice if you could know. Dean shots his head up at the mention of his name.

"Yeah?—sorry, I just, you and Sam are just so—" He sighs. "it's about time you two crazy kids broke that touch barrier." He guffaws, slowly pulling up to the ordering kiosk.

A new song starts playing on Dean's "hot summa' nights driving" mixtape, Emmit Remmus by The Red Hot Chili Peppers, he added it when Sam said that's one of his favorites.

- do I need to talk about how much of an immense help you have been on hunts?

- you don't need to help out on every hunt despite Sam's disappointment and Dean's kid-like joy to have their friend help them out who is a professional/werewolf/hunter/geek, who kind of gets his references?? But you are geniunely so good it's funny to have the boys call you up and be like "..so we need help". They're happy you'll show up but there is still that lick of shame that taunts the Winchesters whenever they are forced to call for aid.

- this one time, you wanted to hug them after not seeing them for two weeks, and when you went to attack Sam, you heard his bones crack.

- your strength still surprises you and knocks other people off their feet

- it was so loud (atleast for you), you were sure you broke something

- Sam did nothing but give you his (killer) dimply smile and reassure you didn't do anything (even if he slightly grunted); while Dean whined like a kid saying (lying) he doesn't want a hug (you coaxed him into it eventually)

- Sam feels like he's not allowed to call you by your nickname, like he fears it's Dean's thing and not his

- so when he finally puts on his big boy pants, he's like, "Uhh–Cujo- 🧍‍♂️so get this.."

- all red and shy, trying to act casual, as if he doesn't wonder about the reaction you might have if he calls you other nicknames, like honey, sweetheart, even baby, or if he had the excuse to hold your hand, how would you hold it? Fingers interlocked or palms flat?

- Sam would also love to just marvel at your slit eyes; if he could he would take a picture and put it in his wallet; don't get me wrong if he had one where you were normal, he would cherish it just as much.

- Sam thinks your nickname is actually really cool (probably because it's a Stephen King reference, nerd), and you take that as a compliment. Sam is hard to entertain or please by his brother's antics.

- But he prefers saying your name

- there's something so intimate about the syllables rolling off his tongue so easily

- "_____, Are you okay? What is it? The soundproof earmuffs? I'll go get them." When everything, and I mean when every sound is just too much.

- Sam got them for you; he couldn't handle seeing you wince one more time whenever a car with a bad engine would pass by the motel (during a stressful hunt); its tires squealing under the concrete, making a faint sound for the boys, but for you so much louder.

- you know how pathethic it is to be affected by such small things when you're blessed with such powers? How can you call yourself a hunter when decibels, frequencies, and fucking tire squeals make you their bitch? You wish you could train yourself in a way that would make you less sensitive to certain sounds. It just adds to the reasons why hunters have the excuse or classify you as "the frail one" not only because you're a girl. When you used to hunt with your dad and sometimes mom, the amount of dog-shit comments from other hunters who had sons, were nothing but mysogynistic, curlish, and ruthless. "Are you sure the riffle isn't too heavy?", "Does she even know how to kill this thing?", "She's going to drag us down, do you want us to die?"— the type of comments that would make your dad shoot daggers into them, defend you "She's a goddamn ______, what do you think?", and whisper into your ear "Show em' what you're made of." and you would (stubbornly) listen to his advice to the damn letter after you almost mouthed them off.

Your dad believed in "Actions are sometimes louder than words." and all that adult crap, you were not as zen.

Your mom actually encouraged the sarcasm you have replied with in the past. The funniest memory your mother can recall is a story she tells at every gathering and every chance she gets to everyone, she praised you like crazy. When another hunter's son had the nerve to fuck with a twelve-year-old you. "Aren't you afraid of breaking a nail out there?" The boy sneered, puffing out his chest like a peacock. You stared at him with pure disbelief. "The only way I'm breaking a nail tonight is by kicking your ass, you cocky brainless jerk." You spat back, your mother and father were there and so was the boy's father; the gravity of the situation was on your shoulders, and their stares felt even heavier in comparison; intimidating him was 100% on the table. You felt like everyone had the same exact thought occuring them, an unspoken demand passed everyone there, even you: Do something. And you did. Your mother's jaw went slack; she doubled over, gripping whatever surface was near her and she started to chortle, with her shoulders shaking like never before. Your father was holding in a chuckle while massaging the bridge of his nose.

- Sam has to disagree with you whenever you complain about how your senses make you look or about the way you underestimate yourself. "What?! You can't be serious. _____, It doesn't mean you're weak. In fact, it makes you even more interesting. Everyone has an Achilles heel; yours is stronger because you're an amazing hunter who figured a way out. It makes you even stronger, I have no idea how you deal with this crap! Dean and I would've gone insane if we were in your shoes for more than a day."

- he is also forcing back his infamous (spectacular) bitchface

- he doesn't 'hold back' actually

- he geniunely cannot glare at you, not when you're like this. He can make a few exceptions, like when you join in Dean's teasing/joking (the silly rambunctious energy Dean carries around had, unfortunately, contiminated you or awakened yours)

- or when you start teasing Sam yourself, he shoots you a glare that classifies as nothing but hot (in your book at least), the kind of Sam glare that makes you flush knowing he doesn't mean it at all.

- Dean making you those fake ass I.D's like "Joan Jett", "Stevie Nicks", "Kathleen Hanna" and when you asked him to make more subtle ones he was like, bet. "Kelly Hammer", "Diana Bowie", "Laura Ulrich".

a/n: I wanted to apologize again for taking so long and for the unnecessary amount of context that literally nobody asked for. Uhh yeah and feedback would be very much appreciated<3, sava out *mic drop*

[shewholovestoread]

GYEONGSEONG CREATURE SEASON 1 PART 2

Part 1 review and character breakdown are here and here respectively.

Wow, this was such a roller-coaster. It was everything I expected it to be and then some. Let’s get into it. As always, beware of spoilers.

To start, let me congratulate myself on guessing correctly that it was indeed Nawol-daek who gave up Tae-sang’s mother’s name. The way it was shot and edited actually made it pretty clear.

I also guessed that the threat would widen but I didn’t anticipate that there would be a massive time-jump between seasons 1 and 2. That actually raises so many questions which we’ll get to later. For now, I am very happy with the way the season ended. The show actually made it very clear just how things would go and in that respect, the foreshadowing was done well.

The pacing of the show is absolutely amazing. Having seen Part 1 when it first came out and then Part 2 just a few minutes ago, I am still not complaining that they decided to split the season. I think it may actually have been a good idea because that division was like the calm before the actual storm and I think that brief respite was necessary. When your characters are in a constant state of peril, it can sometimes make the audience disconnect because it almost becomes monotonous, the stakes no longer matter. Here, they definitely did.

The writing was also super tight with no fluff and this surprised me, once it got dark, it didn’t really try to lighten the mood with levity which a lot of other shows might have done. I think that also ties in with the subject matter and the gravity of just what they were showing. The brutality is ever present and for the perpetrators it was matter of routine which made it all the more horrifying. But when you view the other person as sub-human, it becomes easy to justify your actions irrespective of how heinous they may be.

Part 1’s focus was wider in terms of the number of characters we were introduced to and once Part 2 got going, that focus shrank so it only paid attention to Tae-sang, Chae-ok, her father, General Kato and Yukiko Maeda. The others were still there but they were no longer central to the plot and that was okay.

I admire Tae-sang’s drive to protect the people he cares about. His character went through perhaps most growth, starting from indifference to putting his life on the line multiple times to save Chae-ok. He didn’t have to do that considering he met her not too long ago but he does it anyway. He also doesn’t try to hold her back (as he tried in Part 1) and I liked that he keeps telling her that they both have to live, he gives her hope when there really didn’t seem to be any.

Chae-ok was still an absolute badass. There is a problem that a lot of dramas have where they start off with a kick-ass female character but as you get closer to the climax, she gets de-powered to prop up the male lead. I was so happy that they didn’t do that here. Chae-ok is nothing if not persistent, no matter how many times she gets knocked down, she still gets back up. There is a fire within her that nothing could put out, you could try to intimidate her but it wouldn’t get you very far.

Chae-ok and her father were always going to go back to the hospital, there was no way they would leave Seishin there at the mercy of those psychopaths. It was also always clear that her father would be the one who wouldn’t make it out. I think that when he realised just what they had done to her, he lost something within him. Death would have been better than what she had been subjected to.

The primary focus in the show was always Chae-ok and her mother and the bond between them and it wasn’t random, it all paid off in the end. It was the memories of Chae-ok that reawakened Seishin’s humanity, made her more than a mindless killer. Her final gift to her daughter was the Najin so she could live. In the end, Seishin was finally free from her tormentors, in giving up the Najin, she died but she died knowing that her baby was alive.

I had a feeling that Chae-ok would become like a hybrid form of the monster. We saw that with her mother, she was different from the other people who were infected with the Najin. She still had control of herself and if not for the anthrax, I think she would have managed to retain her humanity. Considering how Seishin reacted, it would make sense that Chae-ok would also be more in control than say Myeong-ja for instance. It’s also why Kato was so curious about her and tried to infect her.

Kato took Myeong-ja’s baby and that child is definitely a hybrid. If they have any hope of defeating it, they would a hybrid of their own. But with the time-jump, I don’t know how Maeda and Kato will figure in Season 2 since it seems to take place with a considerable time jump (in the 80s perhaps?). Unless they’ve been experimenting and have figured out a way to live longer. Especially Maeda, considering her burn injuries, I’m curious to see what form she will take in Season 2.

There are still a lot of unanswered questions like - How does the time-jump make sense? - What is the history between Maeda and Seishin? They hinted at it in Part 2 but didn’t give any definitive answers. Did Seishin cause the death of someone close to Maeda, who was it, how did they know each other? - How is Ho-jae related to the Tae-sang? - What is the meaning of the scar on Ho-jae’s back? - What did Chae-ok do all these years? - How do her powers differ from Seishin or even Myeong-ja?

I may get into some of these questions because there are answers we can glean from the show. But I’ll make a separate post about that so that this one doesn’t become obnoxiously long.

This show was an epic ride from start to finish and while it didn’t give us the conventional happy ending some expected, the ending it did give us is excellent. It sets up the next season perfectly while still giving a good closure to season 1. I can’t wait to what season 2 brings us.

[maleyanderecafe]

When a Thousand Moons Rise (Webcomic)

Created by: Park heejung

Genre: Shoujo/Mystery

Phew, man this one is going for a ride. It's a reincarnation story with a lot of gore and suspense, and also werewolves? Lots of things are going on here and the mystery here keeps you on your toes. As of now there are about 60 or so chapters and there's a lot of worldbuilding in terms of the reincarnation aspect.

The story starts out with a bang as Nogyung Lee is buying a gift for her dad, only to have a a bus drive into the mall to try to kill her. She is saved by an angelic figure before the bus driver is killed and she is sent to the hospital. We learn fairly quickly that these types of accidents are common with her, earning her the rumors that she's cursed. Nogyung is also able to turn into a werewolf creature during the full moon, which causes her much turmoil as she just wants to be a normal person. She has a one sided crush on her classmate Sunho for a long time, and can't seem to let him go even when it's obvious that he has a crush on another girl named Dasom in her class. Meanwhile, the angelic figure that Nogyung Lee saw has gone about and killed off another man who seemed to have reincarnated and is about to find her. As she struggles in her school life, there is a detective that has been going around learning more about Nogyung and the various accidents that happened around her, as well as the various stories that are spread around this town- specifically about two lovers and a village that was burned down. Nogyung also struggles to remember a memory of her mother, who was running away with her to protect her from someone before she died. Nogyung nearly dies from her nut allergy after Dasom secretly puts nuts in her sandwich, leading to two boys, Dail and Yisun to save her by injecting her with allergy medication. Soon after this instance, Sunho and Dasom official go out, leading to them inviting everyone to karaoke. She ends up going home on a bus with Sunho when one of the people on the bus attempts to try to kill her. Dail ends up protecting her along with another blue eyes male, who seems to know that Nogyung is a wolf. The detective on the other hand starts to piece together what's going on with the reincarnation story and the story of the island as he investigates all of these occurrences. The blue eyed male seems to have connections with Nogyung's mother and has come to protect her from being killed and/or taken away by the angel, Nuni. He slowly teaches Nogyung to embrace her wolf form, and her dad becomes more protective over her. Dali and Yisun move to her school and protect her from bullying attempts and Yisun asks her to be his girlfriend. Nogyung continues to gain memories of her past life when she sleeps, seeing Yisun as her husband in her previous life.

While at school, a police officer possessed by his reincarnation comes to shoot out the school to find her, resulting in one of her classmates dead. The blue eyed uncle, Dali and Yisun try to break into the school to save her, while one of her classmates, Rina seems to know about Nogyung's wolf form. Yisun is able to save Nogyung from the attacker before being almost shot himself, leading to Nogyung using her wolf form to attack him. After she's discharged from the hospital her father and the blue eyes uncle tell her the story about this island. There was once a wolf girl named Otoko that fell in love with a human- however, the demons hidden in his village did not approve since it would reveal their identity. To protect the new life they had, they set out to kill the two. Afterwards, an angel creature named Nuni came to the village with the wolf girl in her arms, killing everyone in the village. The curse starts that every time the wolf girl reincarnates, the monsters and Nuni would as well, leading to a never ending cycle of bloodshed. Nogyung will never know who may betray her, whether it be her friends or some random person who will come to try to kill her, thus why her mother attempted to lock herself in the house basement to prevent herself from hurting her daughter. Sunho it seems has been possessed by one of the demons, leading the dad to lock him in the basement to prevent her from hurting Nogyung. Nogyung goes to visit Rina, whom seems to know more than she lets in on. She tells the story of her grandmother who was friends with Nogyung's previous reincarnation. She saw Nuni take her friend away at a bus stop after killing one of the reincarnations, and has since counted when she would be reincarnated again. We learn that Nuni is actually a spirit connected to the mountain, and that if the mountain is destroyed (which it currently is due to construction) then Nuni will die as well, stating that Nuni isn't much of an angel, since he's keeping her in this cycle of reincarnation. The last couple of chapters detail Sunho breaking out and trying to resist the hold the demon has on him.

There is a lot going on with this series, but I got to say, I love how the story builds up how the reincarnation works, and all of the mysteries, from the angel that she sees to suddenly being turned into a werewolf. While we have a general idea of what is going on based on hints, the story that's told by her father really solidifies all of the things that are going on. There is thrill and terror on the series when we do see these reincarnations go after her, often with various types of foreshadowing, so when everything does go on, we have the context of what is going on. It seems to mix the supernatural and slice of life fairly well, as this is Nongyum's life- on the one hand having to deal with all of the various accidents that happen around her while on the other having to deal with her various unrequited crushes. The artwork I think also shows how beautiful it can be while also showing the gore that happens to the various unfortunate people who were possessed by the demons. It must be terrifying knowing that anyone can just turn into one of the demons that will come to kill you, even those who are your family or friends. There are still a lot of mysteries to unfold such as how the detective fits in with all of this, who was chasing Nongyum and her mother that one night as well as what happened to her mother and who exactly the blue eyed wolf man is.

Nongyum as a protagonist feels very realistic for a high schooler, more focused on the life that she has at school, having fun with her friends and having various crushes, but there's also a sadness of having always being afraid that people won't accept her because of her wolf form, and those that are afraid of her because of her curse. It's not very fair to her that she was simply born in this cycle, only to be constantly in danger from the people whom she trusts and to be tied with Nuni so intricately. While she is more of a kind and often playful person, as the story goes on she becomes a lot more focused, attempting to learn about her powers of a wolf and probably going on to get rid of Nuni, or those that hurt her love.

Dali and Yisun are likely the reincarnations of Nuni and Otoko's husband as based on their birthmarks, though it's not entirely clear if that's true. Dali with his white hair is likely Nuni's reincarnation, but it's strange because in the instances we see Nuni, he is his own person, saving Nongyun from the bus accident far before we ever see Dali and based on Rina's grandmother's telling, also took her previous reincarnation in his angel form. Nongyun and Dali are drawn together though, so in some case or another, they likely are connected by fate, as mentioned multiple times in the story before. Yisun on the other hand is completely convinced of this, always flirting with Nongyun, but based on recent chapters, as much as Nongyun likes him, she feels that the two are not a fated pair, which will likely lead to their breakup in the future.

Nuni and the husband are interesting because I'm not exactly sure how they are connected. From the story, after the villagers killed Otoko and her husband, Nuni suddenly appears carrying her into the village before destroying it. So I'm not sure what Nuni's connection is with the husband or Otoko. Based on the first couple of chapters, the two originated from the forest and Otoko made a promise with Nuni when he was smaller that they would be together, with the "rings" that they made from grass turning into the birthmarks that they have in the current life. It does make me wonder why Nuni would allow the Otoko to marry the human husband since he seems so very attached to her, though perhaps there can be more than meets the eye. Nuni while trying to protect Otoko also seems okay with just murdering everyone in the village, regardless if they are a demon or not, wiping pets, livestock and the demons off the face of the earth. The curse was started by the demons and Nuni after all, with each reincarnation that Nuni has to go and protect Otoko's next incarnation. Nuni seems to be fairly obsessed with Otoko as depicted initially in the first chapter, so while he's not specifically interested in Nongyun as a person, he is obsessed with her as the reincarnation of his beloved. He seems pretty pleased constantly being in this cycle of death and rebirth since it means that the two can be together forever, even kidnapping the previous reincarnation for 47ish years just to (presumably) protect her. Unfortunately we don't know too much about Nuni as of yet, but hopefully as it goes on we will.

Overall, this is a really cool series to read. There's gore, slice of life, lots of mystery and a good use of reincarnation that is fun to read. If you are interested in this, please read it.

[oneshotnewbie]

Can you do a oneshot where B!D has been unwell and having a lot of weird symptoms lately. She, her sisters, and Eliza are at the hospital when they find out she has lupus, and B!D just breaks down.

Addition from another request: Also in the lupus one shot can you have B!D tell her sisters she feels like a burden and they tell her shes not?

...

You felt like you were floating. The next moment your felt like your chest was buried and crushed. Overwhelmed by an heat that ran through your entire system and made your blood vessels boil. You tried to relax to banish the heat but you could not and felt your strength ebbing away. You felt defeated, you had to endure it.

"She has a fever of 102.2 degrees. Y/n never has been so sick before," Eliza informed her two girls, who she had called and asked to come back home. She was bent over your battered body and placing a cold rag on your sweaty neck.

Kara and Alex nodded briefly to let their mother know they were listening before the redhead moved to the other side of your bed and sat down next to you. "How long has she had this fever? Have you noticed anything about her lately?"

"She has been very tired lately and has often taken naps. She has lost weight due to the lack of appetite, which I have labeled as stress," Eliza reflected on the last few weeks before nodding. "She has also complained of extreme hair loss."

"What do we do now?" taking your limp hand and placing it in hers, she turned to the bio-engineer and gave her a serious look.

You opened your eyes for a moment, only to close them back shortly after. The dim light on your bedside table pierced through your skull and set your eyes ablaze. You wanted to say something, but no sound came out of your throat. You found yourself too weak to form words. "Hey, it is all good."

"Lexie," you croaked, knowing that it probably came out as an unintelligible noise, but also knowing that she understood you anyway. But she interrupted you with her soothing and deep voice, "Kara and I are here, you will be better soon."

"She needs treatment, she need medication," Eliza shook her head at your condition. She had noticed weeks ago that you had changed, but she never saw a possibility of a serious illness slowly taking hold of you.

Not a second after your mother said that sentence, Alex grabbed her car keys and handed them to Kara before carefully scooping you out of bed into her arms and carrying you out of your room to the car. You groaned out in pain during the movements, your whole body radiating pain in all directions. "Everything will be fine, kiddo. Just hold on to me, alright?"

...

When you came to, you did not feel much better than before. You could not move properly, all your joints ached like fire burning inside them and your head was throbbing so hard, you thought it was going to explode. Everything hurt.

"It was a good decision to bring your daughter here," the voice, echoing in the far distance, you identified as a man. Confused, you did not quite understood where you were- your eyes still closed. "She has an elevated blood sedimentation reaction, which has led us to conclude that it is something that is not exactly harmless."

"Mom?" you asked in a hoarse voice and interrupted the young man in his speech, amazed that you got any words out at all. You tried to open your eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the unfamiliar brightness. You slowly became aware of a dark figure leaning over you, holding something in her hand. "What happened?"

"You are in the hospital, sweets. We brought you here after Mom could not get your fever down. You probably dozed off and feel asleep on the drive." Kara already had an arm behind your back to support you, helping you to sit up a little before holding a glass of water to your dry lips.

The blonde stroked your hair soothingly after laying you back down and held your hand in her other, gently rubbing the back of your hand with her thumb. She had been disturbed by the doctor´s statement that something was wrong with you.

She was the only one next to you who could not do anything with this information. But the pronunciation of some of the things said, sounded audibly bad. "She has low white and red blood cells and platelet counts. Also, her body uses an unusual amount of complement factors C3 and C4,"

The doctor continued to talk, handling the eldest Danvers the handheld tablet with your chart showing your blood results. Alex, too, now joined her mother at her side and scanned the various criteria that the laboratory had examined.

"I talked to the chief physician and we then extended the blood tests. We noticed that she has auto antibodies with the specific AntidsDNA and the Anti-Smith antibody," you whole family waited anxiously for the doctor to continue, who had meanwhile sat down on the small stool that had been under the computer desk.

Curious, Kara´s blue eyes locked on him, breaking the awkward silence that permeated the room. "And what does that mean?" Eliza and Alex turned to her almost in unison. The redhead bit her lip inexorably while looking at your sleepy figure buried in the blondes sight as your mother caught the speech. "She has systemic lupus erythrocytes. In short, lupus."

"In normal language please,"

"Y/n has an autoimmune disease in which her immune system attacks her healthy body cells and causes inflammation. It damages her organs." Alex had taken the word and felt the fear that spread in the blondes faltering voice.

Kara looked up at the doctor again, who just gave her a sad nod in confirmation of what her sister had said. Silence drowned out the movements and sounds in the hallway. Nobody would have thought that silence could be so uncomfortable. The blonde sank onto your bed and looked down at you while pulling you closer to her chest.

"Can it be cured?" Your eyes had meanwhile filled with tears that were spreading down your cheeks. Fear filled your entire body and made you shiver, drawing the redheads attention to you. She quickly got up from the foot end of the bed and turned to your free side. She carefully pulled the duvet up to your chin and sat down next to you. "Or will I die?"

"Sadly, this cannot be cured," the man in the white coat picked up the conversation and smiled slightly at you. "But the goal is to prevent organ damage and relieve symptoms. If you take the medication that we will put you on after a few more tests, than you can live with it."

You nodded and closed your eyes, a small stone wandering away from your heart. While your mother went outside with the doctor to discuss more things, your siblings stayed close to you and held you tight. "God, I am one of a burden"

"Hey," Alex whispered before you opened your eyes and looked straight into her brown ones. "Hey, Alex.." even to your own ears, you sounded weak and broken.

You tried to squeeze even closer to Kara´s body, liking the sheer warmth she was radiating. She wrapped her arms around your exhausted one. The blonde did not have to ask how you were. She senses how vulnerable you felt at the moment. "You are never a burden to us. Never,"

The redhead also hid under your covers and snuggled into your side, her head resting on your shoulder. "We are here for you, always." she planted a gentle kiss on your cheek and immediately, it was like she was charging your energy with her closeness. She moved even closer and placed more kisses on your nose and temple, bringing a smile to your lips. "There is my girl."

It was reassuring that there was someone with you, protecting you, caring and loving you just the way you were. With all your flaws and your mistakes.

[alexandralyman]

Neither Confirm Nor Deny (Dave York x Reader)

Dave York has taken over my life. I dived headfirst into Pedro Pascal fandom and this asshole caught me (among others, looking at you Commandante Veracruz). 7k of self-indulgence later, here's Dave x Reader as CIA agents and partners - AU, Dave went into the CIA after the military and never became a contract killer. Oh, and Carol and the kids don't exist in this.

Rated M for smut and vague mentions of bad people doing bad things

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50244982

You're a CIA agent on assignment in Europe caught up not in enemy crossfire, but in the love/hate relationship you have with your asshole of a partner, Dave York.

You hate how much you secretly love how good he is not just at his job, but between the sheets as well. He drives you up the wall most of the time (and fucks you up against them even better), but when your own agency betrays you at the end of an op, he's the only one who's still got your back.

You can never confirm what he really is to you, but you can't deny it either.

neither confirm nor deny

You practically fling the door to the safe house open, making the rusty hinges squeal loudly in protest as if to remind you about the need for stealth and discretion. Normally you’re the very model of both during a mission, but right now you don’t give a shit. Let the damn place get compromised, it doesn’t matter anymore.

Nothing fucking matters.

You’re met on the threshold by the barrel of Dave’s gun, aimed for a kill shot and immediately withdrawn when he sees it’s you. Protocol when entering the safe house was to knock first with two taps to announce your entry and that everything was fine.

Everything isn’t fucking fine.

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, because you never break protocol—except, of course, when you very much do—and he almost just shot you in the face for it. “What the actual fuck…wait. What happened? What’s wrong?”

Dave York is infuriatingly good at reading your moods. He knows when you’re happy and he knows when you’re angry, which is far more common and usually directed at him. He also almost always knows when you’re horny, which isn’t uncommon, especially around him, but is dead last right now on the list of emotions you’re currently experiencing. Murderous is first, and he’s familiar with that one too because it’s also frequently directed at him. It’s infuriating because you’re a highly trained CIA agent with a highly trained poker face you could easily clean out Vegas with, but at the moment even the most oblivious person in the world could tell that you’re on the verge of a volcanic eruption and not just your asshole of a partner who knows you all too well.

“They’re letting the bastard walk,” you practically spit.

Dave blinks, “What?”

“Yeah,” your voice is more bitter than the ridiculous amount of espresso he drinks like it’s water. “Apparently he cut a deal, and they’re letting him walk.”

Dave is many things, slow on the uptake isn’t one of them. “They flipped him,” he says, matter of fact. “He’s an asset now.”

You’d spent months trying to bring down Andrei “the Crow” Morozov, arms dealer, sex trafficker, Eurotrash asshole extraordinaire. Hours and hours of sorting through the mountains of intel for the nuggets of gold, late nights, shitty safe houses, getting two ribs cracked in Düsseldorf and not going to hospital because you would have been pulled from the mission, just dealing with the pain because you were so close, so close, to finally catching the slippery bastard and putting him away for good. It was all for nothing, Morozov shot you a shit-eating grin as the cuffs were unlocked and walked out of custody a free man.

“Give Irina’s mother my love,” he’d said with a wink, and three agents had to hustle you out of the room with his mocking laughter following you lest you go after him with your bare hands. The things he’d done to the poor girl, barely more than a child. You’d promised her mother, you swore to the woman that the monster responsible would be brought to justice. Instead, you watched him walk away free and clear with the blessing of your own damn agency.

“It makes sense,” Dave says, setting his gun back down on the battered coffee table that was scattered with nicks and cigarette burns courtesy of the many nameless, faceless agents who’d sought sanctuary for the night. “He’s connected to all the major players in Eastern Europe, with the amount of intel he could provide if they keep him in place it’s no wonder the plan was to flip him all along.”

That brings you up short as a new, hotter fury starts to burn under your skin. “It was? You…you knew?”

He gives a shrug with a broad shoulder that you may end up dislocating depending on what he says next. “Officially? No. But I suspected. Didn’t you?”

You…didn’t. Fuck, you one hundred percent didn’t expect the CIA would stab you in the back and worst of all, Dave did. He shouldn’t have put his gun down, because you have a new target now.

“And you didn’t fucking tell me? After all that fucking work to catch the son of a bitch? When I didn’t shoot him in Germany despite having a clear shot because I thought he was going to be locked up for the rest of his life, not let out to keep ruining lives because he’s a fucking ASSET to the CIA now?

When I was making promises I couldn’t keep, you think, but don’t say.

“The CIA has gotten into bed with much worse than Morozov when it serves their purpose. You know that. What makes this different?” Dave asks, the infuriatingly calm eye in your raging storm.

It was different because…because…

Because of Irina and all the others. The ones whose names you knew. The ones whose names you didn’t and would haunt you forever. Because you’d looked Andrei Morozov right in the eye in the underground club in Düsseldorf where he sold girls as easily as shots to asshole men and swore to yourself that you’d make him pay.

Because it was personal.

You couldn’t do this. Not now, running on no sleep and barely any food and the ash of your own failure in your mouth. Tears start to burn behind your eyes, but you’d walk barefoot through a minefield before letting Dave York see you cry.

“You should have told me. We’re supposed to be partners.”

You could almost handle being betrayed by the higher ups, the ones who sat in windowless rooms looking at names and numbers on reports and decided which was more valuable, some teenage girls or the man who’d sold them to the highest bidder. The CIA made deals with all sorts of devils, dictators, terrorists, lowlife arms dealers. You couldn’t handle being betrayed by Dave

, who was by your side the whole time you were on the ground putting faces to the names on those reports. Anna. Olga. Irina.

He calls your name when you leave, your real name, not the one you were given for the mission with a passport and credit cards to match. He’s been calling you by that fake name for months, or, when you push him onto his back in a safe house or a hotel or wherever you’re holed up for a few hours and take him inside, he calls you baby or sweetheart in a voice that gets increasingly more wrecked with each roll of your hips into his and you pretend to hate it.

The sound of your real name from a man who rarely uses it almost makes you stop on the narrow stairs of the ancient building before you reach the outside.

Almost.

You’re in Paris, the city of lights and romance and the final stop on this farce of a European tour now that Morozov’s been caught and released in pursuit of bigger fish. The station chief said to take a few days to decompress before heading back stateside. Do some sightseeing, or some shopping. Patronizing jackass. You almost stabbed him with a pen. As if you were in the mood for museums or boutiques after Morozov walked, like this was a vacation and not your life’s work. You find the French equivalent of a dive bar instead and speak the international language of alcohol to the bartender, drink until it’s too dark to see the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe or anything except the bottom of an empty glass before ordering another. A man sidles over at some point between drinks three and four and tries to pick you up, a local with an accent you would have swooned for once upon a time. He’s attractive enough and you’re tempted, there’s more than one way to forget your absolute shitshow of a job. You’re definitely no stranger to this one, but not with anyone else since…

Fuck.

You’re not dating Dave York. He’s your partner, because you did something terrible in a past life and this is karma biting you in the ass for it. And it’s not that he’s a bad agent, far from it. He’s one of the best in the agency. He’s also smug, and irritating, and you want to punch him in the face on a near day basis. He’s fucking good at his job, and that means he knows with pinpoint accuracy just what buttons to push to drive you up the goddamn wall. He also knows just what buttons to push when he’s fucking you against a wall, which happens on an alarmingly regular basis. He understands the adrenaline rush at the end of a successful mission and the helpless frustration when a target skips through the net instead, he’s the only one who knows why you currently have a large bruise across your ribs and the unseen marks the work leaves on your soul.

Parisian sights and a pretty Frenchman offering a turn in the sheets both hold no allure, you go back to the safe house once the bar closes, far drunker than you should be. Not drunk enough to forget the smirk on Morozov’s face, for that you need to fuck Dave until everything else fades away. Only the small garret apartment is empty, his gun isn’t on the table and the air already feels stale, like no one’s been there for hours. Maybe he went out looking for you, although if he did, he would have found you. Maybe he went to find someone to spend the night with, someone who doesn’t throw things at his head and threatens to strangle him with his own tie when he’s being a dick. He’s seen you do it too, so it’s not an idle threat. The mission in Monte Carlo. The second one. Where the two of you posed as a wealthy businessman and his mistress, and caught the target’s eye in your cut-down-to-the-navel dress with no room to hide a gun and had to improvise. Dave fucked you from behind on the balcony of your hotel room afterwards, still in your dress and heels, and he wasn’t the slightest bit turned off by the fact that you’d just killed a man with your bare hands and a length of deceptively strong silk from Hermès. If anything he was even harder than usual, quickly unzipping his suit pants with one hand as he shoved your dress up with the other and whispering all sorts of deliciously filthy things in your ear as he buried himself to the hilt over and over again with the lights of the city glittering below like a fortune in precious jewels.

The Paris safe house is a lot less lavish than a five-star hotel, the hot water in the tiny bathroom can be described as only slightly less icy than the cold tap and the floors are so uneven that if anyone did break in they’d probably trip over their own feet before getting a single shot off. It’s extra hazardous when drunk, even for a highly trained agent, but you manage to navigate your way to the sink to splash some water pulled from the frigid depths of the Seine on your face and stay upright long enough to strip off your clothes, leaving them in a heap where they fall. You grab a T-shirt from the back of a chair that you think is yours in your inebriated state, until you slip it on and realize the shoulders are far too wide and the hem is too long. It’s one of Dave’s, well worn and soft and you drank way too much alcohol tonight to bother trying to pretend that you don’t like the way it feels to wear his clothes. He’s not here anyway (where the fuck is he?) and you’ll take it off before he comes back.

You fall into the empty bed that’s not really big enough and yet it feels like it stretches on forever without someone else there to hog the blankets and tangle your feet with his. Your own gun stowed under the lump of a pillow and the taste of failure in the back of your throat more bitter than the booze, you close your eyes and drift off in a sea of regret that a monster walked free and innocents suffered, all because of you.

Your fault.

All your fault.

********

“Bonjour. Or should I say bonsoir, Mademoiselle.”

You’re awake at once, reaching for the gun under the pillow and closing your fingers around it just as the voice registers through your bitch of a hangover.

Dave.

Sitting up is made an Olympic sport both by your not full healed ribs and whoever’s playing the drums behind your eyes like a headliner at a death metal festival. Someone you manage it and crack open a lid to find your dick of a partner sitting in a chair next to the bed. It’s too small for him but somehow it doesn’t look awkward, he sits easily, comfortably, as far as you know he could have been there for hours. As you blink stupidly at him he leans forward and taps a fingertip against your lips.

“Open up, sweetheart.”

Taken completely off guard and too hungover to argue, you do as he asks without thinking. He pops two white pills on your tongue and hands you a glass of water.

“Drink,” he instructs, like he’s talking to a child. You resist the urge to scowl like one and swallow the pills down, chasing them with the water.

One secret about the CIA is that it has access to some really good drugs. Those weren’t aspirin, and it doesn’t take long for your headache to go away and the twinge in your ribs to fade so you can feel human again. Two things then happen at once, you remember why you were hungover in the first place and that you’re still wearing Dave’s T-shirt.

Three things, you clock what he just said. Bonsoir.

Not good morning. Good evening.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Almost 1800 hours, Sleeping Beauty.”

Fuck. You slept almost the whole fucking day. You have a vague memory of stumbling to the bathroom again at some point and then falling back into bed afterwards, still alone with no sign of Dave anywhere. It’s probably not surprising that you crashed so hard, you’ve been running on nothing but coffee and sheer rage since Düsseldorf, but it feels wrong to have been sleeping when you should have been doing something, anything, to get justice for all of those girls.

Dave is watching you carefully and while his words were sarcastic, his tone wasn’t. He knows what you went through to bring Morozov in. He was right there the whole time, pouring over intel and CCTV footage with you, staking out meeting sites and infiltrating the underground clubs and back rooms where business was conducted by men who would have killed the both of you and not thought twice about it if there was the slightest hint of your cover being blown.

“They let him walk,” you say, more to yourself than him. “He fucking smiled at me, and he walked.”

Dave tosses a phone onto the faded comforter that offered no comfort the night before, without him in the bed beside you. “You have a message,” is all he says.

It’s not the burner phone you’ve been using for the mission, it’s your real phone. You pick it up and when you check the lock screen it shows a text notification. Your heart stops when you see it’s from Irina’s mother. You gave her your number, your real number, when you swore to get justice for her daughter, not the burner one that would be discarded and forgotten as soon as the job was over.

The flash of guilt that you failed them both is a gut-punch on an empty stomach that makes bile rise in your throat, acrid and sour, and then you see what she wrote.

Thank You!!!!

You look up from the message in sheer confusion and meet Dave’s eyes. He’s still watching you with what would look like nothing but cool detachment to anyone else, but you can see the laser focus of a sniper behind that dark gaze.

“Check out the BBC’s homepage,” is all he says.

That answers nothing until you go online and see the top story staring up at you from the screen.

SUSPECTED ARMS DEALER ARRESTED AT ST PANCRAS, accompanied by that same photo that’s clipped to the dossier you read over and over again every night like a fucked up bedtime story. A quick skim of the article reveals the important facts, Andrei “the Crow” Morozov, wanted by Interpol and half a dozen countries for a variety of crimes, had been found on the Eurostar when it arrived at St Pancras station in London from Paris a few hours prior, thanks to an anonymous tip received by the Metropolitan Police. He’d been discovered barely conscious and handcuffed to the pipes in a toilet that had been marked out of order. Morozov had been taken to an undisclosed hospital, where he was currently being treated for multiple broken ribs and other injuries while under reported guard by MI6. A list of his alleged offenses followed, including the trafficking of vulnerable women and girls from Eastern Europe into the sex trade.

You look up from the screen. “Multiple broken ribs?”

Dave’s face is perfectly calm, placid, his expression betraying no remorse for what he did. It was him, you know it in a heartbeat just as you know that he can put a bullet between someone’s eyes from a quarter mile away and what he looks like when he comes undone inside you.

“At least fifteen. Maybe more, it’s hard to be sure after the first dozen. One for Irina. One for Anna. One for Olga. One for all the other girls. The rest for you.”

Morozov had cracked two of your ribs, Dave had broken most of his in return and turned him over to MI6.

“They won’t let him walk too, will they?” you ask, fingers tightening around the phone. If the bastard walks again….

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. There’s not a speck of blood on his clothes, he could have just come back from a day playing well-heeled tourist at the Louvre instead of stuffing an internationally wanted criminal into a train car bathroom after breaking over a dozen of his ribs. Hiis expression is as serene and unaffected as the Mona Lisa’s, keeping his own secrets from everyone except you.

“Unlikely. Even if they wanted to his arrest was public thanks to the cops sending out a press release, it would make them look bad to just let him go. It also makes him completely worthless now as an asset, since if he did walk everyone would suspect he worked a deal to get out of the charges.”

Dave York is very, very good at what he does.

“And if they do,” he continues, unconcerned by the prospect, “well, he won’t get far.”

You know it’s true, because you know him.

“Everyone must be pissed,” you say, imagining the utter chaos that must be going on in the upper ranks. To catch and lose Morozov in the same day, publicly, no less, and to have him end up in custody of MI6. Publicly the CIA and MI6 were allies…privately they each had their own agendas that didn’t always align.

Dave’s facade cracks at last and reveals his amusement. “Oh, they are, baby. I was there when the call came in from London. The station chief was already on thin ice, he’s going to get demoted for this and sent to a far less desirable posting where he won’t be served fresh croissants for breakfast every morning. Thought he was going to have an aneurysm when he was on the phone to D.C, serves him right too, the fucking prick. Everyone else is scrambling to avoid the fallout.”

You cross your arms over the soft cotton of Dave’s T-shirt, annoyed that you forgot (didn’t want to) take it off. “Don’t call me baby. Do they have any suspects?”

Translation: Do they suspect you?

He shrugs again, still completely unconcerned. “Sure. Do they have the right suspect? No, and they won’t. Now as good as you look in nothing but my shirt, go make yourself pretty. We're going out for dinner, I worked up an appetite today and I’m not eating alone.”

Go make yourself pretty? He’s such an ass. You ignore the burn in your cheeks at his casual acknowledgement that the only thing you’re currently wearing is his T-shirt and throw a pillow at his head with deadly accuracy.

“Clock’s ticking, partner,” he says, catching it easily in one hand.

Well…you could go for some actual food to eat after the liquid dinner you had the night before. That’s what you tell yourself, anyway. You’re a CIA agent, you’re an excellent liar. Especially to yourself.

You don’t visit the Eiffel Tower or hold hands on a famous bridge or do anything soppy and romantic. You’re not dating. You’re two CIA agents who caught a very bad man, have barely eaten in the past week, and who fight like mortal enemies and fuck like rabbits. Sometimes both at the same time.

Dallas. The conference where you were chasing down members of a suspected South American terrorist group. You had a screaming argument while you were riding him, his large hands tight on your hips guiding you up and down even as he said you wouldn’t recognize good intel if it slapped you in the face and you called him a self-important jackass who thought he was God’s gift to intelligence and he could take his intel and shove it. You only stopped yelling at him when you came.

Three times.

Dave leads you to a nondescript restaurant off the tourist path, tucked away down a narrow street. The service is French, otherwise known as indifferent, the food is excellent, and while you’d sooner stab yourself with one of the steak knives than admit you made yourself pretty for him, the dress you pulled from your cover identity’s wardrobe is pretty by any objective definition of the word. It may not be a date, but it is dinner in Paris and you’re supposed to blend in while on assignment. It’s not for him.

Another lie you tell yourself.

Dave likes the dress, you can tell. He pulls your chair back like the gentleman he most definitely isn’t and his hands brush over your bare shoulders when you sit down, lingering for a moment against your skin. When the waiter finally deigns to appear Dave orders the braised short ribs without bothering to look at the menu, saying with a wink across the table that he’s got a craving.

You order them too, because fuck men who hurt women and enjoy it.

They’re fucking delicious.

You don’t feed each other dessert or stroll along the Seine afterwards looking at the lights. You do duck into an alley, because Paris is for lovers and for two CIA agents who got paired up unwillingly and drove each other crazy fighting before falling into bed and doing the exact same thing while fucking instead. Dave doesn’t kiss you when he presses you against an ancient wall that’s probably seen its fair share of forbidden trysts over the centuries, instead he sucks a mark into your neck that’ll bruise like your ribs from pleasure instead of pain, one hand shoved under your pretty dress and the heat from his body keeping you warm in a cold, unforgiving world.

“Here, baby?” he asks in a voice that echoes right between your legs, nuzzling and nipping at your skin with one hand at his belt ready to unbuckle and unzip. You’ve fucked him in alleys before, buzzing with adrenaline from a mission and riding high on success while riding each other hard. But not tonight, as easy as it would be to wrap your legs around his narrow waist and muffle your cries in his shoulder while he fucks you against the wall.

“No, not here.”

Not the safe house either, with its shitty mismatched furniture and the ghosts of CIA agents past lurking in the shadows. You find a hotel instead on a cobblestone street, the kind of thing tourists would book for its classic Parisian charm without considering the lack of an elevator. You don’t have any suitcases to lug up the stairs to your room, where Dave presses you against the door as soon as it’s closed, caging you in with both arms. You feel anything but trapped.

“You should have told me,” you say, hands flat on his chest and looking into those dark eyes. You should have told me those girls didn’t matter, you should have told me they were going to stab me in the back and make a deal with the devil, you should have told me!

“You should have known,” he retorts. You should have known they didn’t, you should have seen the knife before it struck, you should have known.

You’ve seen Dave flatter, flirt, and charm to get what he wants, but with you he doesn’t placate or sugarcoat his words. He’s also right, which you hate, you should have known and you would have if you hadn’t let it get personal.

“But,” he continues, head tipping down with a sigh, “yeah, I should have.”

“Me too.”

His admission deserves yours. You’re still going to be salty about it for a while though. Maybe until your ribs fully heal. The bruise is a sickly yellow now, the edges starting to blend back in with the surrounding skin. It’ll disappear eventually but you’ll always remember where it was, a souvenir of your trip instead of a fridge magnet or a keychain. Dave will remember too, he’ll remember examining it in another hotel room when it was the purple of overripe fruit, before winding an ace bandage around your middle with his mouth set in a thin line. His fury had been silent, as quiet as the moment of calm before the storm, while his hands were careful, gentle even, for a man who could and did kill with them his touch had been delicate and feather-light.

Yours hadn’t been, when you jerked him off afterwards with rough strokes that made his silence turn to deep groans as his hips rolled with the movement of your hand. It wasn’t quid pro quo, you just needed to do something to deal with the frustration and that always ended with doing him. He couldn’t reciprocate, not then, not for a while, couldn’t make you come with his fingers or mouth or cock, not when it hurt just to breathe, let alone have an orgasm. Or three.

Now though, he strips the pretty dress from your body with far too much efficiency for a government employee and grazes fingers across the still-marred skin. Somewhere in London there’s a man lying in a hospital bed with his whole torso turned black and blue because he did this to you. You know the only reason Morozov isn’t dead at the bottom of the Seine is because you wanted him to rot in a cell for the rest of his life instead. Dave would have killed him otherwise. Fifteen broken ribs was him showing restraint.

You lift his hand to your mouth and suck on his finger, wrapping your lips around it. The backs of his knuckles are faintly bruised, a match to yours. He’s still fully dressed in charcoal trousers and an army green sweater. The man wears clothes beautifully, something you used to find irritating. He looks even better naked, something you also used to find irritating.

Dave replaces his finger with his lips, reaching down and hoisting your legs around his waist to carry you to bed like he carried you in Düsseldorf after Morozov caught you in the side with a tire iron. You fall back to the mattress and he stops kissing you only long enough to yank the sweater and T-shirt underneath over his head before he’s on you again, nipping the underside of your jaw while his hands roam the length of your body and push your thighs apart. You’ve been wet and ready since the alley, since dinner, since you made yourself pretty (for him) and his fingers find no resistance between your thighs despite how long and thick they are. Just the slightest touch has you trembling, clutching at his arms and legs widening in silent invitation.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, quickly shoving his pants and underwear both down with his other hand so that he’s wonderfully, gloriously naked. “What do you want? What do you need, baby? My fingers? My mouth? This?”

He’s got his cock in his fist, rubbing it up and down your slick heat without letting it slip inside. It’s difficult to breathe, but not because of your rib this time.

“Yes,” you moan, lifting your hips to try to line him up with where you need him. It doesn’t work, the bastard keeps himself just out of reach.

“Hmm,” he chides, breath hot against your skin as he trails his lips down your neck and across the tops of your breasts. “Even I’m not capable of using all of them at once on your lovely pink cunt. You have to choose. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

You want his smart mouth to eat you out, and not just because he’ll finally stop talking. You want his long fingers pumping deep. You need his thick cock to fill you, to fuck you, to find every last sweet spot the way only he can and absolutely ruin you.

“Dave?”

He looks up and meets your gaze. “Yes, baby?”

“Fuck me with that big dick you’re so fucking proud of until I can’t fucking walk, and then do it again.”

He smiles, showing his teeth. It’s the smile of a man who just got handed exactly what he wanted on a silver platter and you’re too needy and desperate to care. He leans down and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, a sweet gesture from a man who’s capable of such shocking violence. But then again, so are you.

“There now, was that so difficult? All you ever have to do is ask.”

It’s getting less and less difficult, with Dave. He’ll give you what you want, what you need, you know he will.

His hips thrust and his aim is as accurate as it is with his sniper rifle, precise and true. He buries himself inside of you and adjusts his trajectory as he goes to follow the arch of your back and the tilt of your hips as you take him all the way in a hot slide that pushes the air from your lungs as he fills you with him instead. Your nails dig into his shoulders to carve your name into his skin in cuneiforms of lines and half-moons, an encryption only the two of you can decipher. He rests his forehead on yours, weight braced on his arms, breathing more heavily than he ever would while sighting a target, giving you both a moment to adjust before he does what you asks and fucks you. It’s hard, it’s fast, it makes your toes curl into the hotel sheets and your pulse race under his mouth when he presses it to your neck and whispers hot against your skin.

“That’s it, baby, taking me so well. So fucking deep. How? How is it always this fucking good, drives me fucking crazy.”

You wrap your legs tight around his waist, tug on his hair, run your nails down his back and scrape your teeth against his jaw like you’re lighting a match. All the things that you know drive him fucking crazy. He lifts you with an arm under your lower back like you weigh nothing, changing the angle to that one that’s like gasoline on a flame and pulling a high-pitched cry from your throat that he echoes with his own deep groan. You hate that he’s the only one who’s ever done this, fucked you like it would be a war crime to stop. His hips move in a rapid-fire tempo, unrelenting, cock a piston, impossibly thick and hard as it drives into you again and again and again. You can’t stop any of the noises that escape you, the cries, the moans, the desperate pleas, the yes, yes, more, please, more and your only consolation is that neither can he with his grunts and growls and fuck, yes baby, yes, take it, fuck!

Dave yanks you against him with those large hands, holding you flush to his hips, and grinds instead of thrusts. The effect is immediate, your thighs tremble, your stomach tightens, your nerves sing as he hits every sweet spot inside you at once and lights them all up like Times Square. You clutch at him helplessly, jaw dropping with a silent scream that he hears nonetheless.

“Let go, baby, let go.”

It’s not an order, it’s a plea from a man who wouldn’t beg for mercy under torture and it breaks you instead. You let it all go and fall over the edge, keeping him locked tight inside and bringing him with you.

You’re partners, after all.

He groans, giving a final, dirty grind of his hips. A lock of dark hair falls on his forehead and his broad chest is covered with a faint sheen of sweat as he shudders through his own climax until he finally collapses down

Dave groans, giving a final, dirty grind of his hips, a lock of dark hair falling on his forehead and a faint sheen of sweat on his broad chest as he shudders through his climax and collapses down into your arms. You run fingers through his damp hair, his weight pinning you to the mattress and holding you fast. You’re not going anywhere, not this time.

Afterwards he lays next to you with his long limbs stretched out on the bed, naked, skin marked in places from his time in the service. Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country. At what cost though?

“I can hear you thinking, baby.”

You flick him on the shoulder. “Don’t call me baby,” you say, but there’s no bite to the words. He never does in front of other agents or contacts. A cocky young field agent called you “sweetheart” once in a briefing and lived to regret it. Dave had watched you sharpen your tongue on the man and run him right through with it as you tore his piss-poor interpretation of the data to shreds. Then he told the analyst to get you a coffee and to take notes silently for the rest of the briefing.

That night in bed with him you were sweetheart and baby and darling and sugar, each ridiculous endearment teased into your skin and whispered in your ear, until you finally shut him up with your mouth and ignored the point he was making. No one else gets to call you those things, only him.

In another bed you stare up at the plaster ceiling with its graceful antique fixture and feel his eyes on you. I can hear you thinking. Even the sex wasn’t enough to quiet the thoughts in your head tonight.

“How do you-“ you start, and stop, not sure if you really want to go down this particular road. Dave waits with a sniper’s patience, going even more silent and still beside you. “How do you make it not be…personal?” you ask the one man who won’t lie to you.

Irina. Anna. Olga. You would have shot Morozov through the heart despite the orders to take him alive if you’d known they were going to let him walk, and ruined your career in the process.

“Who says I do?”

Dave puts his fingers under your chin, turns you to face him and brushes a thumb over your lips. His eyes are dark and hooded, the eyes of a trained killer, a man more dangerous than any two-bit arms dealer and the one you let into your bed. He looks at you and sees what other men would miss, that even though you’re naked and flushed you’re still so, so angry.

“If you take nothing else from me ever again, take this piece of advice. Don’t work for the CIA.”

“Kinda late for that,” you interrupt with a roll of your eyes.

His thumb presses back against your lips. “Hush now and listen. Don’t work for them, make them work for you. The intel, the equipment, the slush funds, take it all and use it. Put men like Morozov in prison when they won’t. Because you’re not the kind of agent who won’t let it become personal.”

From anyone else you would have taken it as an insult, the first rule of intelligence work is compartmentalization. It can’t be personal. It’s just supposed to be names on a list and numbers on a page. Let bad men walk to catch worse ones. Collateral damage is a given, whether it’s a few cracked ribs or some broken girls.

“That sounds…” a number of different things go through your mind, starting with the fact that it sounds very much like treason, but you settle on one word, “…dangerous.”

Dave drags his thumb along your jaw. “The best things in life always are. Now, I believe you told me to fuck you with this big dick I’m so fucking proud of until you couldn’t walk, and then to do it again. And you know I always follow orders.”

You know he doesn’t, Dave York gets results like no other agent, but that’s not the same thing as following orders. He only follows the ones he wants to.

He rolls easily on top of you, making space for himself between your thighs. He’s making space for himself in others places too, something you wouldn’t acknowledge under torture. This is all you’ll allow yourself, to run your hands down his broad back to where it narrows at the waist, muscles rippling and flexing under your touch while the rapidly hardening line of his erection is hot against the crease where your thigh turns to hip.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, voice low and rough. One hand goes under your knee, pushes it back, opening you up. You’re still aching, still needing more, as wet as he is hard, and while his fingers can drive you crazy and his smart mouth never looks better than when it’s fitted snugly between your legs, what you want, what you need, is for him to break you into the mattress again until you shatter completely.

“Baby-“

You pull his head down to kiss him silent, kiss him deeply, kiss the man who’s gone to hell and back with you and would do it all again tomorrow. He pushes inside with a grunt, not making you beg any more than you’ve already done. This time he sinks down into you, warm and thick like honey, chest against your breasts, face buried in your neck, and fucks you with steady rolls golf his hips that you feel all the way down to your toes. It’s slower this time, less frantic, a more gradual build under your skin. Dave’s pace never falters, you feel that he would do this all night long if you asked. A hotel bed in Paris, an alley in Boston, in the back of a car, in a field, Dallas, Monte Carlo, Düsseldorf, Jakarta, you’ve fucked and fought your way around the world with Dave. You’re not dating, you don’t go to the movies on Saturday nights or argue over whose turn it is to do the dishes, there’s just this. Mission completed, Morozov file closed, new assignment in the morning.

What happens in the hours between stays there. It has to. You’re already compromised enough.

Dave groans, his hand finding yours and lacing your fingers together against the mattress. You keep your legs locked around him, thighs wrapped tight over his hips. Everything else fades away, there’s nothing except him on top of you, inside you, doing what you asked and fucking you until you tighten around him and cry out, shuddering through another orgasm. He doesn’t stop, the bastard just keeps going with a quick kiss to your temple as he fucks you through it and starts working you up again.

“One more,” he pants, shifting his hips. “Need you to come on my big dick one more time for me.”

You let out a huff of a laugh that turns into a bitten-off moan as he finds that blissful angle again, because his big dick is doing a hell of a job getting you there. The thick drag of it is more delicious than any fancy French dessert, sparking across over-sensitive nerves and hitting that spot buried deep in you on each stroke. You gasp and clutch at sweat-slicked skin, Dave fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until you can’t take it anymore and fall apart in his arms. Even then he doesn’t give in immediately, drawing it out like the final note as he plays you as expertly as a concert pianist. That part of you that secretly wonders if he’s just been playing you the whole time is silent, drowned out by the hot rush as he floods you with warmth while you’re still quivering, pulsing hot to the same rhythm until you’re both fully spent.

After a few long, blissful moments where neither of you move or speak, Dave stirs first.

“Can you walk?” he asks. It’s not a rhetorical question. Fuck me with that big dick you’re so fucking proud of until I can’t fucking walk, and then do it again.

You’re tempted to lie, you’re so tempted because the absolute last thing Dave York needs is an ego boost. You’ll give him this, though, he earned it tonight.

“No,” you mumble, and wait for the inevitable smug, smart-ass remark. It doesn’t come, there’s only a quiet hum from him as you stroke fingers over his damp hair. His large hand splays over your ribs, covering what’s left of the bruising. It could have been worse, you could have run into that building and not come back out again. You got off easy with two cracked ribs, relatively speaking.

This job, this life, is dangerous. It wasn’t the first close call and it won’t be the last. You know it. Dave knows it.

Sleep is a luxury now, alongside regular meals, relationships that aren’t built on half-truths and lies, and downtime. It steals up on you, eyes closing against the anonymous room that you’ll never see again after this night, in a city that’s just another name on a map. There’s a faint rustle of sheets, and a warm body that settles next to you with a brush of lips to your cheek.

Whatever comes next, Dave York will be by your side.

Your partner.

(yours)

[forensicated]

02x07 - Ringer

Ted sits with his girlfriend, Linda (played by Marian McLoughlin, a frequent guest star over the years, appearing in 10 episodes though this is her only appearance as Linda) in a traffic jam, nodding at the officers who pass on the way to a job just around the corner. He notices that the Chief Superintendent is in attendance so it must be something serious. Ted claims they might need him so he goes to see what's happening. Robin is back for his first appearance after being shot in Hostage.

A speeding car had its brakes fail, causing him to swerve to avoid a motorbike and hit a bus that went over onto its side. A motorbike tried to avoid hitting the bus and went under a lorry which screeched to a halt and had a car drive into it. There are lots of walking wounded, some serious casualties that need cutting out and at least 6 have passed away.

Taffy and others are in the bus helping tend to those trapped whilst also getting the walking wounded out of the vehicle. Yorkie updates Brownlow that the bus was carrying a group of elderly day trippers from South End. Bob suggests using a nearby school as a morgue until everyone is free and they've found a morgue to take the bodies.

A photographer is already taking pictures before being shooed away by officers. June is in the car that crashed into the lorry, supporting the passengers head and neck. A doctor suspects she has spinal injuries so she needs to stay as still as possible. The man she was with has died and is being kept out of her line of sight with June telling her that he's ok until she's freed and has gone to the hospital.

Taffy returns to the station to man the incident room with Tom, Mike and Reg (who is moaning that he's supposed to be on light duties because of his back and he worries that he's about to lose his compensation(!)

Linda drives Ted's car to a nearby safe space when the vehicles can move again and tells him she's going in to work by tube and warns him not to come home smelling of booze. Ted smiles roguishly. "You better have them off by the time I get home!" Abe is amazed that the old people on the coach are as calm as anything and aren't fussing. Ted reminds them they lived through The Blitz.

The school receptionist disapproves of the school being used as a temporary morgue, even though it's half term, but the headmaster has given permission so she has to open up to allow them. She tells Brownlow that it "better not be sending presidence!" He assures her they need to clear the scene as quickly as possible and that they'll be moving them to proper mortuaries as soon as they get space.

A Sergeant from the traffic division comes over to Bob and tells him that the driver who reported his brakes having failed was telling the truth but it is worse than that - he suspects the car is a a ringer and shows Bob where it has been joined.

June and the fire officers support the lady trapped in a car and gently carry her out of the wreckage with Bob, Jim and Yorkie helping keep her as still as possible. Yorkie is sent to the hospital to collect statements and - when she's at the hospital - tell the trapped lady that her husband has passed. Jim is sent to check the car for any personal belongings left by the couple and then to get it towed away.

Pete watches from the car as Viv comforts a mother whos son has passed in the RTA. Pete tells her that she should have just told her - bosh - and then left. He does promise to do the next one... I don't know if that's a good idea (!)

Roy is fuming about Ted being late, claiming being delayed by the accident isn't a good enough reason and that he'll move him to the 'Dream Factory' (Scotland Yard) if he does it again as it's the second time that week.

Pete goes to tell a woman that her mother has been killed in the accident. Viv reminds him to be diplomatic. Pete stops to remove his chewing gum before going inside... I suppose it's something! He enters a hairdressers and asks to speak to the woman in private. Pete can't tell her at first that her mother has died and tells her she's at the hospital... he then quietly tells her that he's sorry but she's dead.

Traffic looks at the car and confirms that it's a cut-and-shut and made up of three cars put together - poorly. The owner bought it from the local paper a couple of weeks previously. Roy tasks Ted with speaking to the man to see if he remembers where he got it from. He paid for it via cheque to a man called Mr Regan who delivered it to the house for him to look over. There's an address on the paperwork.

Yorkie sits at the bedside of the lady from the wreck that had to be cut free and he tries to comfort her and offers to contact family or friends for her. She then admits that the dead man is not her husband, he's her lover and there's a Mrs Simpson still to tell! Yorkie updates Bob who passes him to Robin for him to check up on the details for the real Mrs Simpson.

All the bodies at the school have been identified and removed from the school. Ted attends the address from the paperwork of the car to find it's a nightclub. The owner is standoffish and rude before Ted produces his warrant card which causes him to snap into being helpful. He tells him that Regan had a short let office upstairs and left two weeks ago. He imported and exported sports cars and the owner of the club bought one himself. Ted has to tell him that his car is a ringer after checking it over.

Uniform gather in the incident room to pool what they know. Tom Penny pounces in and catches some smoking and some about to light their cigarettes, fining them all 50p for smoking on a No Smoking Day. Jim later defaces a poster to warn the others and places it beside the No Smoking Day one.

Every witness and/or victim that Bob has spoken to claims that the driver of the Porsche whose brakes failed is the reason for the accident because he was driving so fast that it kicked off the chain of the events that followed. Bob tells him he's likely to be charged with reckless, careless or dangerous driving.

Mr Simpson's real wife isn't home and is likely to be in Margate or Milton Keynes according to family. A man has been charged with stealing the old ladies' handbags in the hospital (!) He's a known thief who the officers call 'Poison Dwarf'.

Regan has been found to owe money in lots of places and did not leave a forwarding address. He also owes the bank £10K too which gives the police more powers to track him down. Roy rings a former DS in the Robbery Squad who now works for the bank and asks him to do a naughty to track down Regan's account to see if there's an up to date address.

If you need more nightmare fodder, Reg is front and center watching a stripper in the pub much to the amusement of the others who stay at the bar or a nearby table instead. "Just look at Hollis' face... what a plonker he is." Viv and June sigh, leaving the pub after seeing enough bodies for one day. This is the Pig And Whistle pub used in the episode.

Dave - the former DS turned bank employee tells Roy that Regan had 150K go through his bank before he skipped out, leaving a 10K overdraft behind. He asks what the police's interest is and Roy tells him it's ringers. Dave suggests it's likely that he's using multiple names then because he'd burn through the ability to stay in one place quickly given the issues. He gives Roy a name and address, telling him it's the details from the only cheque Regan wrote on the account. The cheque went through someone else's account but he added his details on the back.

Ted goes to the address and talks to a man about Regan. He told him he wanted a couple of study wooden crates to send second-hand motor parts abroad so the man made them for £200. The name on the van that collected the crates was Galley Sidwick which is a Car Breakers yard. The owner made sure he took note in case the cheque bounced. Ted reports it back to Roy.

Sun Hill prepares to raid the car breaker yard the next morning. As they wait, Ted tells Roy about his night with Linda how he romanced her with a bottle of wine, a meal and a bit of Julio Iglesias and how it made her want him to make love to her over the table. "Very embarrassing," he adds after. "Can't go back to that restaurant again."

(If you look top left of the more recent Google Maps image you can see the Grenfell Tower ❤ .The site used for the car breakers could be Defreitas Motors on the left-hand side of the Google Maps pic as there was a sign shown in the episode that said it too)

Roy and Ted head into the porter cabin to find a group of men - and DS 'Tommy Burnside' playing poker. Roy calls him a bent bastard and finds that he's wearing a wire and that he is undercover. He tells Roy there's a big ringing operation working from the yard and 'Regan' is Mark Galley, a rally driver. He had been working on it for months to get them to trust him. Regan/Galley finances his rallying by creating and selling the ringers and is on-site boxing up the car Burnside was 'buying'. "You are a silly man!" Ted chastises him to this response from Burnside...🤣 Frank returns to the cabin afterwards to gather up all the money on the table, pocketing it.

Sun Hill manages to get inside and dodge being threatened with a dog, blowtorch, and multiple weapons to arrest Galley/Regan and others in his group. It does however include a violent chase over walls and fences, through tunnels, through holes in the floor and over a pile of tyres. June Is knocked senseless and Pete lays into one before Abe calls him off. There's a rather spectacular car crash too after Nick throws a trolley through the windscreen of a car that Galley had tried to escape in! Ted also has to be dragged back off Regan/Galley.

Burnside is in the incident room, trying to pull June. June isn't interested in the slightest, even when he offers her a "trip to paradise."(!!) Nick grasses Tom up for smoking in the toilets on his own non-smoking day!

Mrs Simpson attends the station at the end of the shift, having returned from staying overnight with family. Reg takes her towards the parade room where there others are recuperating with cans of beer after such a vicious heavy afternoon.

Although he keeps her outside the room she can hear all the laughter and joking inside. Bob has to switch to professional mode and take her through to the quiet office and tell her that her husband has passed away with the drunk men watching and laughing just the other side of the doorway, joking that she's Bob's bit on the side.

[nellie-elizabeth]

Grey's Anatomy: She Used to Be Mine (20x07)

Man, Lucas needs to take several seats, I fear.

Cons:

Of all the new intern characters, Lucas is the one on thinnest ice with me. I've done some flip-flopping over this season, because it's not like I don't understand the pain he's experiencing... but he's making his own rough time everybody else's problem in a way that I just don't find sympathetic. Going off on the patient, Dorian's, friends was just... wow. He was projecting hard about something that had nothing to do with him. While I love Yasuda, I also didn't buy the vibe of the two of them bickering like siblings, and this being a comfort to both of them. She's right: Adams moved out, and Simone was the one who invited Kwan to move in. It's not something Adams has the right to be legitimately pissed off about, to be honest!

The Teddy and Owen stuff... come on. Yawn. Any time someone on this show evokes the long history these two have had, I keep thinking back to when I used to like Teddy as a character and it just sort of bums me out. When she was yapping away in the OR with Richard, I was trying to figure out what angle they were going to take, with Owen being kind of "off" with her... was it just that she was being super annoying after being cooped up during recovery? That could be kind of funny, and played for laughs, if it was just a "oh my god, Teddy, get out of the house and hang out with some friends, you're driving me bonkers." But instead it was this thing of Owen being afraid to lose her, because their lives are settled into such complicated routines? I don't know. It just felt lazy and uninspired, and then they immediately had sex about it which we're supposed to celebrate as them coming back together and feeling connected? I don't know. This whole thing didn't do a lot for me.

I also found Jo's decision at the end of the episode, to focus entirely on pediatrics and drop general surgery, to be a little unmotivated? Like, her not catching what was wrong with her pregnant patient wasn't a consequence of her being distracted by general surgery tasks, was it? It felt like she was attentive and asking the right questions and running tests, and the fact that things broke bad and the mother had to have a scary surgery did not feel like it was because Jo had made a mistake. So this felt a little tacked on, to me.

Pros:

By contrast, Simone having a breakdown about it felt entirely motivated and really informed her character's journey for me. She also didn't actually make any major mistake, but she's got the backstory baggage to back up why this would be a really hard thing for her. I loved, loved, loved, the scene with Bailey and Simone at the end, where she switches into this very gentle, mothering mode with her, and doesn't shame her for her reaction of going to get shitfaced at the bar. It's not stated explicitly that there's a racial component to what Bailey is saying, but it's so eloquently described all the same. Patients like the mother who almost died today need doctors like Bailey and Simone. They need them to make sure their pain isn't missed or ignored or downplayed. It was just such a powerful moment, and I really enjoyed it.

While I was annoyed at Lucas, I do like the ongoing story of Dorian, the patient who got shot and is undergoing a long and difficult recovery. We have a focus here not so much on his life being immediately threatened, but on the psychological effects of this long stint in the hospital. I like how seriously Lucas and Yasuda both take the news that he'll have to go back to a restricted diet and have another surgery and all that: it's a significant problem for Dorian's comfort and mental health. I also like that his friends really wanted to help, and yet there's an inherent distance between them after everything Dorian's been through. I want to keep an eye on this plot thread moving forward.

I was just saying that I thought Simone and Kwan were cuter than Kwan and Jules, but then this episode came along to remind me that they really do have a fun spark between them. They have a bet going as to who will complete their checklist of procedures first, and as the day goes on, they keep escalating the consequence for the loser: is it drinks at Joe's, or is it a full fancy meal out at a nice restaurant, or is it sex in a car? Jules offers that up as something she'll have to do if she loses and then... she loses. We see the two of them having a flirty meal together at Joe's, and the sexual tension between them is just about to lead to the aforementioned car sex, when Yasuda comes over and plops down in a chair at the table. I loved the fun flirty comedy of this plot thread. Knowing this show, there's sure to be more drama between them soon, so I was just enjoying this little detour.

Another comedy-ish story: the two women who got in a car accident because they were hooking up in a car and accidentally disengaged the parking break. The plot twist comes when one of the women's husbands comes rushing into the room. He's under the misapprehension that the two women are just friends, and blames his wife's friend for the accident. Eventually, his wife blurts out the truth, that she's having an affair. I actually did feel pretty bad for the husband in this scenario, honestly! He was being kind of a dickhead about his wife's friend, but I think there's the sense that he was picking up a vibe. This woman is always around, and stealing time away from the family. I loved the part where the woman discovers that her terrible headache goes away only when she's yelling, and I also loved it when the other woman was describing the romance, going on and on about how fantastic the sex was.

And finally, I actually really liked Richard and Winston's awkward little subplot. Richard is trying to show his support for Winston, and say he's okay with him pursuing new romantic interests and that he won't be mad on Maggie's behalf. This leads to Winston seemingly bailing on a surgery in order to avoid spending time with Richard, but when he calls him on it and re-states his support, it turns out that Winston just had another surgery run long. So Richard's the one making it into a whole thing! I liked Richard trying to be supportive and a little emotionally vulnerable, and then Winston getting to laugh at him for it a little bit. Good fun! I still have some lingering resentment over the way they handled Maggie and Winston, but I guess I'm glad Winston is still around, if we had to lose Maggie.

That's all for this one! Lucas Adams is on my list right now, he needs to shape up in a big way. But the more we keep the focus on these intern characters, the more this show is truly coming back to life for me. 

7/10

[canonicallyobserving911]

Background on Buck’s breakdown #3 of ?: Almost losing the people he loves

Buck rescues victims while he’s at work because he’s a firefighter and that’s part of his job.  However, if someone Buck loves is in danger, he doesn’t just rescue them, he saves them (related post: Rescuing people vs Saving someone he loves).  Buck saved Maddie, Christopher and Eddie after all three of them almost died at the hands of someone else (Maddie’s estranged husband tried to kill her in 2x13 “Fight or Flight” and a former LAPD sniper shot Eddie in 4x13 “Suspicion”) or from a natural disaster (Buck and Christopher were caught in a Tsunami in 3x2 “Sink or Swim”) but an important fact to remember is he wasn’t on duty as a firefighter when he saved them.  Buck was off work when Doug took Maddie in 2x13; he was on medical leave (he actually quit his job) when he and Christopher were caught in the Tsunami in 3x1-3x3; and he arrived at work just before he left with Eddie to save Charlie from his mother but he hadn’t clocked in yet and he didn’t have a chance to put on his uniform in 4x13.  Buck risked his own life to save his family, his sister Maddie, his son Christopher and his husband Eddie.

GIFs #1-5 2x13 “Fight or Flight” Buck found Chimney bleeding out on the pavement in front of Maddie’s apartment building.  He called 9-1-1, told them who he was and the police detective who was assigned to the case arrived around the same time as Bobby and Athena.  Bobby tried to calm Buck down because Buck tried to tell the detective that it was Maddie’s husband who took her but he wouldn’t listen.  He took Chimney’s phone and accessed it with Chimney’s thumbprint while he was unconscious in the hospital and Athena told the detective Buck was the one who took the phone.  After she talked with the detective about Buck breaking the chain of command, she agreed to help him search for Maddie.  They spent hours driving all over California looking for her and when they finally located the cabins where Doug had taken her, Buck ran to hug and care for Maddie after she stumbled out of the woods following a brutal and fatal showdown with Doug. He rode in the ambulance with her and tried to keep her awake.

GIFs #6-10 3x1 “Kids Today” 3x2 “Sink or Swim” and 3x3 “The Searchers” Buck and Christopher went to the pier and got caught in a Tsunami.  They were separated after the wave crashed into the pier but once Buck emerged from being underneath the water, he called for Christopher and Christopher answered him.  Buck swam towards him but since he couldn’t reach Christopher’s hand, the wave pushed him past the pole Christopher was holding on to. Christopher yelled that he couldn’t hold on any longer but Buck jumped back into the water, swam towards Christopher and saved him.  They spent hours sitting on top of the 136′s ladder truck with other people Buck rescued waiting for help to arrive.  The wave started going back towards the ocean and the truck shifted which caused Christopher to fall off the truck and into the water.  They got separated but Buck spent the rest of the day and well into the nighttime searching for him.  He didn’t find him, so he called Maddie asking her for help regarding what he should do.  He saw Eddie because he was working at the VA hospital and when Eddie saw Buck, he asked him what happened, then asked where’s Christopher and then asked why he had Christopher’s glasses.  Buck told Eddie what happened and while he was explaining everything, a woman who had been carrying and caring for Christopher all day appeared with Christopher in her arms.  Eddie called out to Christopher and he responded, “Dad!” which caused Eddie to run to him.  Buck turned around so that he could see what Eddie was looking at.  He was thankful that Christopher was found but Buck was also in a state of shock. Chimney and Hen saw him and asked him what happened but he didn’t answer them until Bobby asked him if he and Eddie were ok.  He replied, “Yeah, we’re great” and collapsed in the arms of his captain and teammates from the 118.

GIFs #11-16 4x13 “Suspicion” and 4x14 “Survivors” Eddie was shot by a sniper while he and Buck were standing in the middle of the street after they saved a boy named Charlie from his mother.  Buck was in a catatonic state of shock after Eddie’s blood splattered on his face and clothes which caused Captain Mehta of the 133 to tackle him to the ground to remove him from the sniper’s line of fire.  After Buck watched Eddie close his eyes, he shook himself out of shock long enough to crawl underneath the ladder truck, drag Eddie’s limp body underneath that same truck to safety, lift him up and yell at the 133 to “Get him up!”, then they placed Eddie inside of the truck.  After the firetruck was out of the line of fire and enroute to the hospital, Buck ripped Eddie’s shirt open, applied pressure to his wound and talked to him to keep him alert until they made it to the hospital.  Eddie went unconscious for the last time while they were just three minutes away but Buck’s actions saved Eddie’s life.  Buck returned to a catatonic state of shock after Eddie went into surgery and when he left the hospital, his complexion was pale and he could barely form coherent sentences.  He only had one thing on his mind at that point and that was for him to talk to Christopher.  Buck and Christopher cried together and consoled each other after Buck received a text message from Bobby stating that Eddie made it out of surgery.

[the-real-tc]

Fic Update! Bad Business: Ch. 12 A Place Called Heartland

Chapter 12:

A Place Called Heartland

***

To the childless wife he gives a home, and gladdens her heart with children.

- Ps. 113

***

[draft]

Hudson Hawk: Your Eye on Hudson

A BLOG

Bad Business in Hudson

If you've been following the local news lately — and it's hard not to — you'll be very aware of all the sinister events that have unfolded in our fair town over the past few weeks. Thanks to the dogged efforts of the Hudson Police and that of the neighbouring Calgary Metro Police, however, it looks like justice will prevail in the sordid murder and murder-for-hire cases that have come to light.

To recap: Mrs. Valerie Stanton of Briar Ridge Stables was shot to death while horseback riding up at Lookout Point. Also targeted for death was one Lisa Stillman of Fairfield Stables. One detail that came to light was that the horse Stanton was riding at the time of her death belonged to Stillman. This raised a troubling question: was Stillman the intended target with Stanton being the unfortunate victim of mistaken identity, or was it all a terrible hunting accident?

Nothing could have been further from the truth, as the culprits turned out to be much closer to home; their reasons much more disturbing. Facing various and sundry criminal charges are: Tanner Gunn, Theresa Haywood, Stanley Belmont, Jesse Stanton, and William Ulrich.

I know what you're probably wondering: Is Jesse Stanton related to Valerie Stanton? The answer is a resounding "Yes". He's the son of the same late Valerie Stanton, and Briar Ridge heir. He's been charged with soliciting a killer-for-hire to murder his mother. His reasons for so doing will probably come to light in the upcoming trial, or not. Whatever his reasons, what makes things all the more troubling is he decided to try to kill Lisa Stillman when the insurance payout for his mother's policy was held up due to the police investigation into her death.

Adam paused as he tried to summarize the facts of the case as he knew them. He stared at his laptop screen, wondering now if he had the right to be typing this story in his blog at all. After all, he knew the people involved. By now Georgie must have told the family at Heartland Ranch the Hudson Hawk was his chosen sobriquet.

An unconscious frown tugged at Adam's mouth. His conscience was nagging him. It had been easier when he could hide behind the anonymity of a screen name; he could pretend there was some distance between himself and the subject of his blog posts. Now...

So while he had the blessing of his parents to continue this blogging endeavour, Adam closed the file without saving it. Instead, he decided to check with Alberta Fish and Wildlife to see if they had anything new to report about the elusive bear that had been implicated in the attack on Herring and the man whose body he and Georgie discovered at the Dude Ranch. Doubtless when it was eventually found, it would be destroyed. Such would be the fate of any wild animal that targeted humans instead of other wild animals.

***

Monday, May 13, 2019

Somewhere on Highway 2, Due North.

"I'm glad she's finally feeling up to having visitors," Rachel said as Lou navigated the SUV to the hospital.

Lou glanced at her, then chanced a peek back at Ben, who was staring out the window at the passing scenery, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

"It was driving me crazy having to wait," Rachel continued. "I still can't wrap my mind around everything that's happened. It's like some bizarre dream I'm waking up from. Well, nightmare is more like it. Thank God it's over."

"I can't believe everything that's happened, either," Lou quipped, thinking back to the night Amy shot Jesse, and how Chief Parker had been able to tell the rest of the family Lisa was alive.

Rachel's joy at learning her only sister had indeed survived the attempts on her life was tempered by the fact she had been led to believe the opposite.

"I thought I was coming out here to say 'goodbye' to her," Rachel commented, her voice just above a whisper. "I thought I was never going to see her again. And I know I shouldn't be upset the police couldn't tell us the truth right away—to protect her and all that—but I wish..."

"But it's gonna be okay now," Lou said reassuringly, filling in the silence when Rachel did not verbalize the rest of her train of thought. "She'll be so happy to see you two."

The rest of the family had elected to stay back at Heartland for the time being so as not to overwhelm the recovering patient. It was expected Lisa would be discharged within the week, anyway, and Georgie and Katie were already excitedly making plans for a 'Welcome Home' party of sorts, and the imminent arrival of Aunt Evelyn.

From his position in the backseat, Ben quietly spoke up: "I keep going over in my mind the time I spent at Briar Ridge. I remember being jealous of Jesse Stanton at the time because of all the 'toys' he had. He seemed to have anything and everything he wanted. I remember thinking how much I'd love to have a Ducati like his, and how my parents' splitting up meant I might be able to guilt one or both of them into getting me one. Then I thought, hey, maybe my rich aunt could. What she did buy was jumps for Red so I could practice at Heartland. It took me days to finally thank her. Days. What a shallow, ungrateful idiot I was.

"To think... to think Jesse was riding that same damned bike when he shot my aunt..."

"For what it's worth, Ben," Rachel eventually uttered with a smirk, "There's no way I would have been giving you a Ducati back then, no matter how guilty I felt about the divorce, and neither would your Aunt Lisa."

***

South Calgary Health Campus

Lou tapped her knuckles lightly on the door to Lisa's room.

"Yeah, come on in," Jack called from within.

Upon hearing this response, Lou let Ben and Rachel go ahead of her. Despite expecting this visit from her family, Lisa felt a lump forming in her throat at the sight of her sister and nephew, and instant tears flooded her eyes. Rachel crossed the floor quickly to her sister. Lisa readily received the gentle but fervent hug that lasted several seconds.

"Hey, Rachel," Lisa uttered. "Thanks for coming. I'm so glad to see you."

"I thought I'd lost you," Rachel murmured, voice choked with emotion as her eyes brimmed.

"I know," Lisa responded as Rachel released her. "I'm sorry. You know I never wanted to put you—any of you—through that. But the decision to keep you in the dark wasn't mine. I never wanted to cause you any grief—"

"We're just glad you're going to be okay, Aunt Lisa," Ben put in hurriedly, also approaching Lisa for a hug of his own.

"Ben," Lisa said warmly while accepting his embrace, "it's so good to see you."

"Ben's right," Rachel said. "All that matters is you're going to be okay. The people who did this to you are in custody and you're still with us. That's what's important. Oh, my goodness, let me look at you..."

Rachel spent a few moments taking in the bandage that still graced the left side of Lisa's forehead, and then noticed the sling on her arm. What she could not see beneath the hospital gown were the sutures sealing the incision where the chest tube had been inserted, and the additional bandage covering the patched-up bullet wound.

Shaking her head, Rachel said, "I'm so glad you're alive, sis. You look like you've been through hell and back."

"I feel like it, too," Lisa uttered wryly.

Jack rubbed her forearm in a comforting manner at this comment. He could not abide thinking she was in any discomfort.

"Rachel, I'd like you to meet Jack," Lisa said, motioning towards her husband.

"Jack," Rachel said with a wide smile, moving to hug the man her sister married. "At long last, we meet in person. I'm sorry it took something like this to bring us out here."

"Good to finally see you in person, too, Rachel," Jack said heartily, holding her tightly for a few moments before releasing her.

"Hi, Jack," Ben said, reaching over to shake the older man's hand. "It's been a while."

"Yes it has!" Jack rejoined, grasping his step-nephew's hand. "It's good to see you again, man."

"Jack... I want to thank you for being there for my sister when that monster tried to... you know..." Rachel trailed off. "You saved her life."

"Yes, Jack," Lisa said, sending a broad smile in his direction. "My hero..."

Jack did not wish to think about or speak any more of the night he found hitman Earl McCann trying to suffocate Lisa, so he quickly shifted the conversation to a more mundane topic.

"Well, I guess Aunt Evelyn should be getting in soon?" he asked, doing his best to sound upbeat about it.

"Yes, Grandpa," answered Lou, also sensing his discomfort about the former subject. "Her flight gets in tomorrow night."

"Oh, Aunt Evelyn," Lisa groaned, closing her eyes. "She'll never forgive me for putting her through all this!"

"Of course she will," Rachel rebutted. "I talked to her yesterday. Lisa, all she cares about is that you're alive and safe. You said it yourself: the decision to keep what was going on confidential wasn't in your hands. You were at death's door at the time, for heaven's sake! Nobody's blaming you."

At this, Lisa nodded. "Thanks, Rach. I needed to hear that."

"Anytime," Rachel said. "Someone's got to knock some sense into you."

"Right," Lisa said. "And thank you for not making cracks about my 'hard head'."

"Oh, rats! That was going to be my next joke," said Rachel, feigning disappointment.

"Well, I, for one, am glad for your 'hard head', Lis," Jack said with a small smile. He traced a thumb near the bandage below her hairline, once again so grateful the weapon Jesse had used was not as deadly as he intended it to be.

***

A Couple Days Later

Heartland Ranch

"They're here!" Katie cried excitedly, rushing from the porch into the house upon seeing Jack and Lisa pulling up into the yard.

"We're home, Lis," Jack said, putting the truck in park.

"Hmm," Lisa murmured, slowly peeling open her eyes. She had not intended to fall asleep during the drive home, but too many nights of poor sleep in the hospital meant her body craved rest. Jack's steady driving and the purr of the truck's engine proved to be a fairly good natural sedative.

"Wow, how long was I out?" she asked.

"About half an hour," Jack chuckled. "I didn't realise my company was that boring."

"Oh, you," Lisa said, realising he was jesting. Now that she was coming to full awareness after her brief nap, she finally noticed the yard was not quite as empty as it normally was. "Um, Jack... What's with all the cars and trucks..?"

"You have a lot of people who wanted to welcome you home, Lis," Jack explained. "Come on. Let's get you inside."

Jack opened the door on Lisa's side and carefully eased her down. "Slow and steady, now," he advised, gingerly supporting her on the way to the house.

Though she was feeling miles better than when she first woke in the hospital, Lisa allowed Jack this expression of care for her well-being. After all, she knew first-hand how challenging it could be when the person you loved most was resistant to help of any sort.

Almost as soon as she entered the house, Lisa was met by Evelyn.

"Darling," the older woman uttered, taking her niece's face in her hands before hugging her tenderly. "I'm so relieved you weren't taken from us like that... When Jack called me... oh, I thought my heart wouldn't be able to endure it. But you're here. It's a miracle."

"I'm so sorry I had to put you through that, Auntie," Lisa said sincerely.

"Nonsense," Evelyn stated flatly. "Lou and Rachel explained everything. The police did what they had to do to keep you safe and to flush out the guilty parties."

"Then I'm so glad you understand," said Lisa with relief.

"Jack, don't be a stranger," Evelyn chided, at last noticing him. "Come here. I want to kiss the man who saved my niece's life."

"Hello, Evelyn," Jack said, allowing her to give him a peck on the cheek.

Evelyn leaned in to Lisa. "Doesn't he ever shave, darling?" she asked in a low voice, though Jack managed to hear, anyway.

"Only when the mood strikes him," Lisa answered with a chortle, patting Jack's face playfully. "But I love him, anyway."

"Yes," Evelyn said seriously. "And he loves you. And that's really all that matters, isn't it?"

Tim approached just then. "Everybody's waiting in the living room," he announced, somewhat impatiently, then amended his tone. "Is Lisa okay?"

"I'm fine, Tim," Lisa replied. "I just didn't expect something like this when I got home."

"Let's go," Evelyn said perkily. "Can't keep your well-wishers waiting."

Lisa sank into the middle of the couch, deeply touched by the gathering of dear family and friends that afternoon. She was further impressed by the efforts Katie and Georgie put in to decorating the space to enhance the celebratory mood of her return home.

"Do you like what we did, Lisa?" asked Katie with expectant enthusiasm, grinning widely. Georgie stood by, also waiting to hear what Lisa would say.

"It's beautiful, both of you," Lisa responded, taking in the large 'WELCOME HOME, LISA' banner, streamers, balloons, and cheery tea lights. "This was so very thoughtful of you. So special."

Heartened by this praise, Katie zipped over to where Peter stood with Lou and happily told them that Lisa loved her handiwork.

Everyone took time to express to Lisa their happiness that she was going to be okay after her brushes with death. But there were two people in particular Lisa knew she was more than obliged to see and to publicly commend.

"Ty; Scott," Lisa spoke up, grabbing the attention of everyone. The two veterinarians looked uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny of the others.

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your quick actions that day out on the road," said Lisa. "I don't remember any of it, but I'm eternally grateful you stopped and helped."

"Of course, Lisa," Ty said.

"We would have stopped for anyone in distress, Lisa," Scott added. "It just so happened we knew you."

Neither man was able to say anything further, as memories of that incident were still difficult and disturbing.

"We're just glad you made it, Lisa," Ty said.

"Right," Scott said in agreement.

"Thank you, both of you," Lisa said, once again fighting back tears.

An hour or so slipped by. Lisa could feel her energy starting to wane; friends such as Caleb, Jen, Mitch, and Scott made their departure. At length, only the family remained in the living room.

Before it got to be too late, and before Lou lost her nerve, there was something she had to get off her chest. "I know we don't always see eye-to-eye, Lisa," Lou said tentatively, "but the truth is you're very special to me, and to all of us here. It felt like losing my Grandma Lyndy and my mother all over again when we thought the worst had happened to you..."

Lou suddenly could not continue.

"I felt the same way, Lisa," Amy put in. "After my miscarriage, and after everything you shared with me, I was devastated at the prospect I was facing another personal loss... but you're here, and I'm so glad."

"And I..." Georgie started, but was unsure if she could continue. She looked to her mother, who nodded some encouragement. "I didn't know what to think of you when I first met you, Lisa. I thought you were some rich snob who was going to take Jack's time and attention away from me—"

"Oh, Georgie, honey..." Lisa murmured.

"I never got to say I was sorry for that," Georgie went on in a rush. "And Lisa, I'm sorry for all the mean things I said about you. I'm so sorry. I-I never knew my grandparents or my great-grandparents, for that matter, but you've been everything I could have ever wanted in a great-grandmother, and more."

"Thank you for that," Lisa said, eyes misting, looking at the family that had been grafted onto her heart. "Thank you all. And I want you to know I feel the same way. You know, I had a full life before I met Jack. A life I thought I loved. I thought I was living my dream life. But I look back now and see I didn't realise how sad and empty my heart was. I love you all very much. My life and my heart are full now."

***

Later that Evening

Dinnertime was over. Jack helped settle an exhausted Lisa into bed where she dropped off to sleep in minutes. It was early still, and after all the social activity of the day, Jack decided he needed to clear his head for a bit, so he brewed a cup of tea and escaped to the porch.

He had been there only a few minutes when he heard the sure creak of the door. Someone was coming outside and he turned expectantly to see who it was.

"There you are," Rachel said to Jack, softly closing the screen door while exiting the house.

"Hi, there," Jack said amiably from his position on the porch bench. "Have a seat."

"Thank you," Rachel said, and joined him. A few seconds later, she added: "It's every bit as lovely here as Lisa and Ben described, Jack."

Jack merely nodded.

"We haven't had a chance to really talk yet," said Rachel.

"No, we haven't," Jack said in agreement, though he wondered what Rachel might want to talk about.

"It's years too late, but I want to thank you for offering to put Ben up when I was going through my divorce," Rachel said. "At first, I wasn't thrilled with the idea when Lisa told me that 'plans had changed'; that he wasn't going to be at Fairfield; that he was going to be boarding at some place called 'Heartland'. But after Ben got over his own issues, he admitted he actually didn't mind this place so much, and he was sorry he didn't appreciate it enough at the time."

Jack nodded again, thinking back to how sullen Ben had been in those days. "Divorce is never easy on anyone, especially when there's kids in the mix," he said, remembering some of the ways Lou and Amy struggled to cope in the wake of Tim and Marion's divorce.

"I love my sister to bits, Jack," Rachel said. "She's my big sister, you know? I idolized her growing up. I was relieved she would be the one to take over the family business because I sure didn't want to be responsible for it. She seemed to be happy when she married Dan and moved to the U.S., but we both know how that all turned out. That time in her life changed her, Jack, and not for the better. I wish only happiness and love for her, and I'm so glad you're in her life, because it's clear you're the one who can provide those things for her."

"Well, I'm glad she's in my life, too," Jack admitted, though that hardly covered the length and the breadth and the height of things when it came to expressing how he felt about his wife.

"I don't know what fair wind blew you two together," Rachel said, "but I pray you two stick together."

"That's the plan," Jack said, thinking back to that evening at the Open House when he first laid eyes on Lisa Stillman. Never in a million years would he have guessed what the future would bring him after that chance encounter.

"You wouldn't happen to have a brother who's just like you out there somewhere, eh, Jack?" Rachel said with a laugh.

"No, no. Just me," Jack responded with a smile and a quick laugh of his own. "I think they broke the mold when they made me."

Rachel looked over at him, seeing his features in the light streaming from the kitchen window. "I think you're right about that, Jack. My sister is a very lucky woman."

"I think I am the lucky one," Jack said with sincerity. How many people get a second chance at love in their lives?

"Yeah..." Rachel said. "Well, goodnight, Jack. Thanks for loving my sister the way you do. You've saved her life in more ways than you'll ever know."

The younger Stillman sister leaned over and gave Jack a kiss on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Rachel," Jack replied.

***

Epilogue

[dracox-serdriel]

Wolf Pack

Warning: This post contains spoilers for all episodes of season 1 of Wolf Pack.

To skip this post without scrolling, strikethe "J" key on your keyboard!

So, after I finished watching 01x08 "Trophic Cascade", I keep reading articles and posts that claim that the arsonist was "revealed" in the episode. I saw so may articles claiming this that I rewatched it thinking I seriously missed something, but, no, I did not.

The arsonist was not revealed in the episode!

Never once did Ramsey admit to or imply that she started the fire. There was no flashblack showing that she started the fire. All that happened in this episode was that Malcolm - a character who we know can't be taken at his word - says that Ramsey did it.

That's it. One extremely suspect dude uttering an accusation. And who did he say it to? The wounded child he had just kidnapped from the hospital. A child he has plenty of reason to lie to - hell, anything he could do to drive a wedge here would be a win for him.

Yet... everybody is acting like Ramsey "revealed" to be the arsonist. Why? There was not a single element of this episode or the overall story that implicates her as the arsonist in any way.

Apparently, the plot being implied here goes like this:

Ramsey's husband (and possibly older son) are killed by the Hot Shot crew seventeen years ago during a horrible fire raging through the woods. Ramsey lashes out in revenge, killing all but Malcolm, who only survives because he flees. Because she was busy slaughtering people (and possibly also because her oldest son was killed), her baby twins were left alone in the woods. While the woods were on fire. Ok. And she kept leaving them there even afterward? And then Garrett found them.

Despite being a literal werewolf whose offspring (who are for sure in her pack) have supersenses, Ramsey fails to find her twin babies. Possibly because she fails to look? But there's no explainantion for this -- whether she assumed they were dead or simply couldn't use super-senses to find them -- we don't know. But apparently, she doesn't find the twins. For 17 years. Even though as an arson investigator she could've found them by pretty human means ('oh hey look a dude adopted two babies he found during that same fire I lost two babies in')

Ramsey's other son Baron is raised by her. I mean, if he is older than Harlan and Luna, it's not by much, and I have a sneaking suspicion that he's actually younger. But whatever the case is, he was clearly raised as a werewolf -- that is, he was both a wolf and a human -- he hasn't been living as a wolf in the woods for 17 years. (If he had, how would he speak English and so on?)

At some point during his teenage years, Ramsey and Baron become estranged to the point of where Baron runs off.

Again, Ramsey - despite being a literal werewolf - cannot find her missing son. Even though 100% of evidence clearly shows they are in the same pack (as Ramsey supposed "marks" both werewolf and human alike to protect them from Beast-Mode Were Baron -- essentially, claims them into the pack).

We're supposed to believe that Ramsey couldn't find Baron, so, naturally, she LIT THE FOREST AROUND HIM ON FIRE just to find him. She's also an arson investigator, so she would know full well that the two ignition points would all but ensure Baron would be lit on fire himself, turning him into BEAST MODE WERE -- which, incidentally, he can't be transformed back from WITHOUT a pack (presumably of more than two people).

None of that makes sense, particularly the idea that she started a fire to "smoke out" Baron before she secured an actual pack to save him from Beast Mode. Even if she was a horrible person/mother, the extreme danger of exposure with a Beast Mode Were on the loose would be more than enough reason for her to find literally any other way to locate Baron. INCLUDING HUMAN WAYS. Geeze.

Malcolm is a far better suspect. He has plenty of reason to hate werewolves. His son is near enough to adulthood for him to enact a plan of vengeancew... yes, it might lead to his own death, but his kid is old enough (at least in theory, this explains why he waited 17 years).

All that being said, I'm not sure it's actually Malcolm. The story (and even the filming/camera angles) all seem to indicate that the arsonist is actually Garrett.

In the first episode, Garrett makes a recording for Luna and Harlan when he believes he might not survive the fire. He tells Luna that things are going to change. He assures her that she's going to find her pack - something she's been desperately looking for. Seems a weird thing to impart as last words when you're assuming your kid will never see you alive again, doesn't it?

In a later episode, we then hear this ENTIRE recording played again, which is a very unusual move on part of the writers here if the recording was what it seemed to be on the surface in the first episode -- that is, a farewell/I love you message from a father to his kids. Why bother playing it again? There wasn't more recorded message to listen to... so the only real reason is that there's more than the surface-level meaning. In this way, playing that whole message again plays very strongly as an admission of guilt. Fold in the fact that the twins only get the recorder because Ramsey slips it to them covertly (rather than putting that recording into evidence where it really should be)... at the very least, that makes it wildly clear to me that Ramsey 100% suspects Garrett of starting the fire.

I'm not saying he is the arsonist - just that the story is making him out to be the obvious suspect. Why? Possibly to "smoke out" the werewolf his son saw many years ago in the woods, possibly even hoping that there was a whole pack hiding in that national forest.

As far as we know, Garrett doesn't know that Beast Mode Were is activated by fire. (I very much doubt that Malcolm said anything about it to him, and Malcolm is the only living person who could've said anything.) So, it's not such an insane idea that Garrett lit the forest on fire hoping to fid more werewolves. He maybe even made sure the fire was just as bad at it was seventeen years ago because, well, there are fires every year... but nary a werewolf has been seen since that fire seventeen years ago.

Why would Garrett wait seventeen years to do this? We haven't been given direct insight on this...that being said, the best bet is that he did it now because he only recently got some very bad news about his health---he's dying of something. And he's looked for - and failed to find - werewolves for the past 17 years. In short, he's desperate to find more werewolves to help his kids. I doubt he entrusted his werewolf search to his "backup plan" aka the other ranger who knows.

Malcolm is still a better suspect (revenge is always a good motive). But both Garrett and Malcom make 1000x more sense as the arsonist than Ramsey.

[thatonepersonwhocantwrite]

Trigger warning blood, being shot, hospitals , swearing

Ty borden x female flemming Borden reader

Summary You were ranting to your husband Ty when everything happens so quickly. There was a wolf and you got shot twice you're husband made it out without an bullets and rushed you to the hospital

" Lou has been on my ass about random shit she also asked me how You and I managed to stay together even after having Lyndy. I me I love Lou shell always been my older sister and always will be but sometimes I swear she's going to be the death of Amy and I ." I said in almost one breath and Ty just laughed at me. God I love his laugh. " Well love you can rant to me anytime but about the house if I don't get home and clean it this move isn't going to happen.

I made a pouty face at him . Ty just laughed and kissed me. As much as I love my family it was nice just being the two of us for a while. As he got up and to leave and clean. That's when it happened all to quickly. Ty pushed me underneath him trying to protect me but I had already been shot in the stomach so I switched. Now I was on top of him trying to protect him. Another bullet hit my arm. Once the wolf left and the shooter stopped Ty looked at me worried. I was losing to much blood Ty quickly scooped me up I passed out in his Arms. Ty had made it to the Emergency room. " SOMEONE PLEASE HELP MY WIFE HAS BEEN SHOT!" Ty shouted and 3 different people came rushing out.

..................................................................................

Jack and Tim were driving to the hospital when they got there they saw Ty trying to get to Y/n but was being held back by some nurses. " Sir if you don't calm you you'll be asked to leave. " One of the nurses told Ty. He was about to say something when Jack called him . " TY! I'm so sorry he's just worried about Y/n . " Jack told the nurse who just nodded and walked away. 5 hours later. " Y/n's family?" A nurses called. " Let's go home." Y/n said. The nurse handed your husband about 5 different prescriptions for you and let you go.

Everyone anxiously waited the call from Jack but it hadn't come yet. Lou was looking like she was about to cry and Amy was nervously pacing around. While everyone else was just staring at the tables worried. The phone call never came instead you decided to come home early and surprise everyone. Ty gently picked you up and you let out a whine full of pain. " I know love I know. " Ty said sadly. " I'm sorry I should have protected you better. " Ty said as he carried you inside. " it wasn't your fault my love. " You croaked weakly. You were swarmed by your sisters and family.

.................................................................................

Ty went into the kitchen to get you some water so you could take your pain meds. " Ughh come on which one did the doctor say was the pain meds again?" Ty asked himself before slamming them down. " Hey Ty you ok?" Peter asked. " Yeah I was just thinking about how I could have lost Y/n and Lyndy could have lost her mother. " Ty replied. Before Peter could saying anything Y/n said something " I didn't though my love and I'm not planning on going anywhere any time soon.

I love you

I love you more Y/n

[littleblondesoprano]

84, 5, & 38?

84. Any wild stories passed around in your family?

Oh hell. Lol! My grandparents on my dad's side, who had been divorced for a few years, hooked up on my parent's wedding day, during the reception. It's funnier but also more worrying that they were found out bc my dad had to go make sure his father wasn't killing her.

My dad's grandma (I believe it was her) was a psychic who told my dad about my mom, and me.

My great-Aunt was getting spied on when she was changing by a peeping tom at her window, so she shot him.

My mom was a vindictive child, and so when her neighbor was being extra ugly to her and her friend, the two of them went over and took a big ol' shit in her cabbage garden.

My dad, when he was a teenager, was washing his car in the driveway when he saw his friend's car pull up. Being the little shit that he was, he, and another friend who was with him, started flipping off the arriving friend. My grandfather came out and all three of them mooned him. When the friend finally parked - he and his mother, who they all were meeting for the first time, got out of the car.

When mom was in labor with me, in the ambulance, she passed by an accident at a particularly bad intersection, and was horrified to see my dad waving at her in front of the wreck of his truck. A lady had run the light, minutes before the ambulance went through, and T-boned him. No one was hurt, thankfully, and dad got a lift to the hospital.

Speaking of my birth - I was born with pink hair. No cap, ashy pink - we have pictures. Mom said the doctors told her it was from drinking so much Tang.

5. What do you find most attractive about your crush?

Their creativity, drive, intelligence and kindness. Their charm and overall magnetism - their intuitiveness, assertiveness, and a very sweet heart. I know it's still there.

38. What’s your favorite flower?

Oh I love them all! I'm not picky with flowers, but I do have a special place in my heart for roses, baby's breath, and daisies. (Also tulips)

[megan-loves-surveys]

#44.

Have you ever had a sexually gay experience? Yep.

Do you find any of your friends hot? Not really. I love them though xD

Are your legs freshly shaven? I shaved them in the shower yesterday so fresh-ish lol.

Does your best friend wear glasses? No.

Have you ever woke up crying from a bad dream? Yes.

Who knows more about you: online friends or offline? Online probably.

Does your family own any land? No.

Who is the oldest sibling in your family? -

Are you close to any of your aunts/uncles? No, I barely see them.

When was the last time you were in a hospital? 2017.

Do you plan on losing weight any time soon? I'm losing some at the moment.

What do you think of people who get drunk every weekend? EVERY weekend? I'd side-eye them, cos that's getting closer to it being a problem for them and I'd ask if they were okay, but otherwise it's not my business.

Are you looking forward to anything? It's my birthday on Saturday - tomorrow my Mum and I are going for a big lunch and then on my actual birthday I'm going to a wrestling show yay!!! <3

What was the last bad news you heard? Dunno.

What was your GPA in high school? We don't have that thingy here.

Do you require a lot of private time? I guess?

Do you know how to play any odd instruments most people can’t play? I can't play any instruments, odd or otherwise lol.

Have you ever had a parasite before? No.

Have you ever been punched in the face before? No.

Are there regular trains in and out of your town/city? In and out? There's a few, but most of the trains are within the city itself.

Do you bathe your pets regularly? -

What was the last animal you saw, and was it a pet? It was a cat, and no it belongs to our neighbour.

Who was the last person you messaged on Facebook? Ngawari.

When was the last time you saw them? Today haha, we went to the gym and then had dinner for my birthday.

Where do you see yourself in a year? Who knows.

[TW: OVERDOSE/SUICIDE] Do you know anyone who has overdosed? No.

Where are your siblings as of now? -

Have you ever lost anyone close to cancer? Yes, one of my friends passed from ovarian cancer last year :(

Do you personally know anyone who is transgender? Personally, like we're friends? No. But I do know of a few people who I've said hello to a few times and that.

When was the last time you got a shot? Covid booster a few years ago.

Have you ever been into a car accident? I've been hit by a car, so I guess so.

When was the last time you spent over $100 in one transaction? What did you buy? Prob when I got my hair done.

Are you a breakfast person? I love breakfast, but I don't actually eat it that much.

What type of books do you like to read? All sorts, but I do love fantasy.

How do you get rid of hiccups? Drink water super fast.

Do you have any healthy addictions? Hahah dunno.

Do you pay much attention to speed limits while driving? -

Which parent was more strict when you were growing up? My Mum - she was always the one who said no when I asked her if I could do something. I always asked Dad instead cos he was way more likely to say yes lol, then when Mum found out I'd just say Dad said I could xD I also would tell Dad about things that I'd never dare to tell Mum about cos I knew how she'd react lol. Like one time a friend of mine drove me and another friend home from school when he didn't have the proper license to do so - I told Dad about it the next day, he thought it was funny but I knew if I told Mum, she'd go nuts LOL. Dad even said "I wouldn't tell your mother if I was you" haha.

Have you ever watched The Golden Girls? I've watched clips on YT, it's funny.

Do you like getting dirty? Not particularly.

Are you a very flirty person? I can be.

Who was your favorite babysitter? I never had any, it's not a big thing in NZ. If someone had to watch me, it was usually my Grandma lol, and in an emergency case it would be our next door neighbour.

Do you believe in the death penalty? It depends what the person did.

Name a person that you can’t stand and tell us why? I don't know tbh.

If you could have a video of one event in your life, what would the video be? Hmm.

What is the most illegal thing you have ever done? Dunno lol.

Last person you sang happy birthday to? Not sure.

What form of government do you like the most? (capitalism, socialism, etc.) I have no clue tbh, politics is boring to me.

Is there a song you can’t handle listening to, even though you like it? As The World Caves In, it's one of the most sad songs ever, and I cry just listening to it lol.

Last time you saw fireworks? Dunno, New Year's?

Do you have a black dog? No.

If you took someone on a tour of your town, what would you show them? Sky Tower, the museum, Kelly Tarlton's, Sylvia Park etc.

Have you been to the capital of your state? -

Would you be more in your element camping in a tent or an RV? RV, but I've never actually been in one lol.

Kissing someone with facial hair, do you mind? Not at all!

Would you ever enter any kind of pageant? No.

Do you have sympathy for hobos? Mostly, but some of them can be really pushy when they ask for money.

When holding hands, do you intertwine fingers? Yes.

What’s your opinion on Johnny Depp? Love him! Was totally on his side with the whole Amber Heard stuff. He's a phenomenal actor and can play so many different roles.

If you write, isn’t writer’s block the most horrible thing? Oh god yes.

How old were you when you met your first love? In my 30's, lol.

Did you get ice cream from the ice cream truck when you were little? Do they still have an ice cream truck where you live? I did! But they always seemed to come around at silly times like right before you'd be having dinner lol, they should have come around 30 - 45 mins later cos then it'd be time for dessert xD

Your last ex finds out you’ve fallen in love with another person? Who cares, I don't talk to them. Surveys are way too obsessed with exes when I barely think about mine lol.

Who was the last friend you added on Facebook? Not sure actually.

Have you ever encountered a black widow? No. THANK GOD.

What letter does your surname begin with? O.

Have you ever used a muscle stimulator before? Did it hurt? No.

How many times have you dated the person you’re with now? Once, currently lol.

Do you know anyone who has gotten pregnant despite using contraception? Yep.

Would your mom care if she found condoms in your room? I'm an adult lol, I can do what I like xD

Would you ever get band artwork tattooed on you? No.

Do you think the last person you kissed has ever lied to you? Probably, but unless it's huge, who cares.

Would you ever pick up a hitchhiker? God no.

Do you think it’s important for children to have a father figure in their life as they grow up? Sure, but if they don't, then that's how it is. But most people who don't have a father likely have other males in their life.

If you could have one more pet, what? I don't have any pets to begin with...

Something you want to buy real bad? Hmm, not sure actually. More merch probably xD

Could you wait until marriage for sex? I don't want to get married, so no LOL.

Do you know anyone who writes huge essays when they message you? Yep, but it's endearing.

Do you think your first love still loves you? Dunno.

Were you ever a flower girl or ring bearer in anyone’s wedding when you were little? No.

Has your father met the person you currently love? Yep.

[TW: SUICIDE] Have you ever written or received a suicide note? No.

Do women breastfeeding in public make you feel uncomfortable? Why or why not? No, it's babies eating. Who cares?

What band would you most like to meet? Blue!! <3

Do you think you have to be skinny in order to be beautiful? Nah, but I do want to be slim for my health.

What’s the most disturbing thing you’ve ever been through? Getting hit by a drunk driver who was blind drunk in the middle of the day.

Are you into PETA and all that? No, PETA are awful.

Does your family have a secret? Not really?

Any current family issues? Nah.

Have you ever picked wild flowers? No.

Which mythological deity or creature is your favorite? Djinn/genies. Thanks to the Weather Warden series xD

What’s the biggest spider you’ve come across? I don't want to think.

Have you ever been bitten by anything venomous? No.

Who was the last person you were with that smelled REALLY good? My boyfriend xD

What movie coming out are you most excited to see? Why? None, I don't like movies.

If you have one, do you and your significant other have a similar taste in music? Not really, though he does try to listen to stuff I recommend him even if it's not his thing cos he's open-minded.

Do you know anyone who has changed their first name? Yes.

Have you ever dated someone who posted a ton of selfies on social media? No.

Are you on good or bad terms with your most recent ex? Neither, I don't ever talk to him.

What’s your favorite YouTube channel? Loads - Call Me Kevin, ashens, LGR, Matt Rose, HeroVoltsy etc.

What’s the highest you can count in a different language? Dunno.

Where would you like to be buried? Not sure.

Which of the following areas is going best for you right now: finances, work, love life, social life or education? Why do you say this? No education, and the others are all pretty good.

Do you know any illegal immigrants? No.

Can you sit for long periods of time? Noooooooooo, I'm so fidgety lol, I change the position of my legs hundreds of times a day. Plus, I always stand up when I get a chance to. It's for this reason, I always sit on the aisle when I fly cos I get up and go to the toilet multiple times, and I don't want to be climbing over people.

Do you have any cavities? Not one.

Who was the last person to flirt with you, other than your lover? This guy at work yesterday xD I was polite, but didn't encourage him haha.

Have you ever read a book about a character in a psych ward? Dunno.

Have you ever been in a mental hospital as a patient? No.

Whose place did you last chill at and with who? My boyfriend's.

Do you plan on having both your parents at your wedding? -

Would you prefer cherry Cola or vanilla Cola? I don't like cherries, so definitely vanilla. Man I haven't had it for so long, need to get a bottle at some point.

Have you ever tried to draw an anime version of yourself? No.

At what point were your parents most disappointed in you? Never?

If you could have a neon light sign that said anything you wanted, or looked like anything you wanted, what would it be? Hmm, maybe ones of the Shield guy's logos!

Will you cry at your wedding? -

If your last ex said they hate you, you say? I don't care.

What do you get cravings for the most? Chips.

Where was your senior prom held? -

What was the theme of your senior prom? -

Do you know what you want the theme of your wedding to be? If so, what would it be? Why so many wedding questions? Not everyone wants to get married.

What color Christmas lights do you like best on your tree? We have all colours lol.

At what age did you start puberty? I got my period at 13, so around then I guess.

Have you ever passed out? Yes.

How old is the last person you kissed? 55.

Where does your best friend live? She lives about... 25 mins from me or so.

How many people have you truly fallen IN love with? One.

Has anybody ever called you a tease? My boyfriend has a a joke LOL.

Have you ever seen your siblings naked? -

What are you doing this weekend? Nothing planned, but I'll prob hang out with my boyfriend at some point.

What’s your favorite hair color for girls? Depends on the individual person, cos not everyone suits the same colours. For me personally, I don't suit super dark colours, I'm too pale.

Does your first crush know you liked him/her? He knew lol, cos he was also my first kiss xD

Has anyone ever taken your clothes off of you before? Yes.

What was the last seriously painful thing that happened to you? I threw my knee out at the gym the other day, ugh.

Do you believe in Judgment Day? No.

Do you have a picture of you kissing someone? Yes.

If you had $100 dollars, how would you spend it? Buy a new pair of Converse from the outlet store!

You were given the opportunity to get a new cellular device, what do you choose? Whatever the newest iPhone is at the time.

Ever physically fought with a member of the opposite sex? No.

What was the last thing you tried for the first time? Hmm, not sure.

When was the last time someone admitted to having somewhat of an attraction to you? The other day.

Do you prefer to have more or less in common with your significant other? More.

[heizelnutlatte]

💬 The Cut [26022021]: Han Yeri Interview on Minari

- Finding Our Mothers in Minari How Yeri Han captured the soul of the young immigrant wife and mother.

Minari opens with a shot of a young woman named Monica Yi, played by Yeri Han. It’s of her eyes, trained in a rearview mirror, and you see everything in them: the first seeds of skepticism, growing as she drives along a rural Arkansas road toward a home she’s never even seen in a country that’s still alien to her. The distaste for what she will later call “this hillbilly place,” so different from the city where she’s from. The anxiety, mostly for her children in the backseat, one of them with a heart condition that means he shouldn’t be this far from a hospital. The resentment — didn’t her husband think of that? The fear. The resolve. The love.

The shot is two seconds long, but maybe you’ll recognize it. I did — how familiar that look was, all it contained. How many times had I seen it on my own mother’s face? She would immigrate to America in the ’90s, some ten years after the events of Minari take place. Her American life would also begin in Arkansas, in a town called Fayetteville, where I would be born at the hands of a racist obstetrician.

Minari is Lee Isaac Chung’s semi-autobiographical film about a family of Korean immigrants who start a farm in 1980s Arkansas. It follows Jacob, played by Steven Yeun, who moves his two children and wife, Monica, into a mobile home on a bit of farmland to avoid a lifetime of chicken sexing. We watch Monica’s attitude toward him move from disbelief and exasperation into passive aggression. It’s a poor lid for her resentment, which still comes out in mean ways — slammed plates and tossed-off lines meant to sting. (“Would you live in a house like this when you’re married?”)

It all bubbles over early on, when Jacob casually accepts the news of an approaching tornado as his children cower under their mother’s arms. When this happens, you realize why Han was cast opposite Yeun, someone she goes toe-to-toe with easily and eclipses frequently. The tornado argument, which ends with Monica turning her back to Jacob and grabbing the tears out of her eyes with her fingers, is one of the moments you forget Yeun is supposed to be the star of the show. Han’s performance is even more striking when you learn that Chung wrote Monica’s character into the story only faintly; the beats were there, but Han drew the emotional arc herself, massaging Chung’s memories into the restrained, eloquent woman we see in Minari.

Like Monica, Yeri Han looks very young, but her age is completely indecipherable. This has something to do with the way she holds herself — even over a video call her bearing feels powerful, and her actual posture is so erect that she gives off an air of authority. As it turns out she’s 36, and has been a star in South Korea since her twenties when she began gathering awards for her work in a number of indie movies, films in which she played everything from a North Korean ping-pong player to a manipulative, cheating girlfriend. Minari — Han’s first film to premiere in the U.S. — came after her time on an episodic period drama and a sitcom. She is well-known for her range.

And yet, at first, Han struggled to figure Monica out. She shares very little with the character, and questioned why she stayed with Jacob, why she didn’t just take the kids and leave. It was only when she took a long, hard look at her own parents did she start answering some of those questions. Like Monica and Jacob, Han’s parents had her very young — “they formed a family before they could form a solid sense of self, or achieve their own dreams,” she says. With Monica’s naïveté established, Han let her use love as an excuse.

But it was her own mother, specifically, whom Han drew on, and it pays off in Minari’s most poignant scene, which takes place in a parking lot shortly after Jacob lands a partnership with a local Korean grocer. In early drafts of the script, Monica was to tell Jacob that she was leaving for good, but Han had Chung tweak the lines to be less damning.

“I thought Monica would never tell Jacob that she wants to actually leave him,” Han says, explaining that even at wit’s end her Monica was still full of love for Jacob, something we witness shortly after, when she runs after him into a burning building. “The memory was faint — it was just like a photograph in my mind — but I remember my own mother telling my dad something similar. The moment the words came out of my mouth, I thought about how my mother must have felt.”

It’s the only moment in the film Monica lets herself cry in front of her husband, and as Han describes it her perfect shoulders crumple slightly, and she herself begins to weep. She dabs her eyes and, recovering, goes on to describe how her mother was only one of many women she recalled for her performance. It was memories of her grandmother and six aunts, ultimately, that gave Monica everything you see in that rearview-mirror shot

“When I think of their lives, I remember them as people who were repressing things,” she says of the women she grew up around, recalling how they prioritized their children’s education and aspirations, sacrificing their own ambitions in the process. It was a kind of altruism characteristic of the first generation of mothers in postwar Korea, Han says, but it was an attitude she could build into the immigrant parent she was playing, too.

And when you watch Minari with an eye toward Monica, it becomes a different film, one that knows the predicament of the immigrant mother and wife and is honest about it. Monica’s Minari is still grounded in love, but there’s a bitterness and a tension, borne of broken promises and misplaced expectations.

And that, I think, is where I saw my mother, where I didn’t expect to see her and where, at first, I didn’t want to. It’s one of those things where you avoid looking too hard because something tells you it will be too close.

If you’re a first-generation American, you may have felt this too, because Han gives us our mothers — their self-denial, their sacrifices, and their repression — and this makes Minari a more difficult film to watch. You leave it feeling more uneasy than if you saw the “gentle” and “intimate” immigrant story it has been described as because you have to ask yourself what becomes of Monica. Does she leave Arkansas and move to the city? Or does she stay, sexing chickens her entire life so her son can make movies? Is she ever happy?

Minari doesn’t answer those questions, and I don’t think it has to, largely thanks to Han. She knew our mothers’ sacrifices, but she also knew their strength. As she says to me later in the interview, “when I look back on the mothers I grew up around, I see them as very resilient and powerful people,” and so she gave Monica resilience and she gave her power. The distinction is everything; Monica’s Minari doesn’t just know about our mothers, it honors them.

Link: https://www.thecut.com/2021/02/how-yeri-han-captured-our-mothers-in-minari.html

|| as Monica in Minari, 2020

[briamichellewrites]

13

Phoenix sat down with his parents and told them everything. He didn’t call it abuse because he didn’t know that’s what it was. Until he talked to Brad. What did they do to him? Through tears, he told them about the mental abuse and how his boyfriends enabled his drinking. One of his boyfriends threatened to hurt himself if he ever left him. He also threatened to tell them about his sexuality. They would get angry or jealous. Then, they would belittle him, degrade him, call him names, and insult him.

When he got upset, they would give him what he thought was love. It was a cycle. They told him he was worthless, stupid, a fucking idiot and they told him to go fucking kill himself. He would beg them to stay with him. His father put his arms around him and held him against his chest. He let him know he was safe. Nobody could ever hurt him again. They let him cry.

They had no idea that he had gone through that. It wasn’t his fault.

“David, it wasn’t your fault. I am so sorry. Thank you for telling us”, his mother said.

“I know. I’m going to get help when I get back home. I don’t want to start drinking again.”

“What about your girlfriend? Does she hurt you?”

“No, she is the reason I realized what happened to me. She holds me accountable while also cheering me on.”

Everything about her was perfect. He wiped his tears. How did he meet her? She was signed to Warner Music. They met her after she was signed and they invited her to hang out with them. She was the kind of girl who could keep up with their sense of humor and six different personalities. But, she was also the kind of person who never looked down on anyone.

She was extremely wealthy, but she treated everyone equally. There were so many great things about her. They wanted to meet her. He would see if she was willing to do that.

Phoenix and Jon were hanging out with Bria at the studio. She, Mike, and Brad described the accident from their perspectives. Brad witnessed everything. What happened to the driver? She was arrested for driving under the influence. They found out that she was Bria’s biological mother, who had been in and out of jail and hospitals for years.

She was currently in the hospital because she was determined to not be competent enough to stand trial. They didn’t know how long she would be there. There was a chance that the charges would be dismissed against her. They all wanted her to face some type of punishment, but they also had sympathy and compassion for her. He agreed. It was her fault but legally, it wasn’t. It was just a sad situation all around. If it was anyone else, they would want them prosecuted.

But they were willing to give her some leniency. With that, Jon asked what they were working on. They were working on finalizing her album. It had taken over a year. Why? What happened? They were just fighting with their label to have creative freedom. The album was going to be experimental country. They then changed it to pop.

“Now Jeff wants to sell her as kind of a punk rebel. It’s just been so frustrating because nothing we do is good enough. We have ideas but they get shot down”, Brad said.

“Don’t give in. If they drop you, that’s about them. Not you. Other labels will let you do what you want”, Jon said.

“Mike and I are starting our label, where we will have more creative freedom. It’s just in the beginning stages right now.”

Good. Every artist deserves to be in control of their music. They agreed. Could she play the guitar with one arm? Yes, she could. They laughed. She got her guitar out of its case, along with her pick. What song was she going to play? Brad got the camera. When they were ready, she played Crash Into Me by the Dave Matthews Band.

Sweet like candy to my soul

Sweet you rock

And sweet you roll

There was something about her voice when she sang. It was perfect. They would never get tired of hearing it. She could sing any kind of genre because she was that talented. Joe, Mike, Rob, Chester, and Mark came in while she was singing. They listened quietly until she was done. They then clapped for her before putting their instruments down. Brad also turned the camera off.

They then introduced themselves to Jon and said hello to Phoenix. How was he doing? He was up and down. How long was he home for? He had a month before he was back on the road. They invited both of them to join them. What song was she singing when they walked in? Crash Into Me by The Dave Matthews Band. Joe jokingly asked her if she was going to go up on stage and break her guitar. She thought that might be a little too punk rock for Jeff. He might fire her.

They laughed. A girl with long blonde hair poked her head in looking for Dave. He invited her in with a smile before introducing her as his high school friend, Linsey. They all said hello and introduced themselves. She was invited to join their party, so she took a seat next to Joe.

Brad decided to play the song Jeff wanted for Bria’s first single to get Jon’s professional opinion. It was called, Wild Child, and it was supposed to be influenced by Joan Jett. He listened to it before joking that maybe he was too old, but what the hell was that? They laughed and agreed. He would have to talk to Jeff then because they were out of ideas.

Who was Jeff? He was their A&R guy. Jon would do that for them. Thank you! They would appreciate that! He found him in his office after being shown where it was. They had a polite but honest conversation about letting them have more creative freedom with their music. Jon had sixteen years of experience in the industry with multiple awards, so he knew what he was talking about. Linkin Park and Bria knew what the kids were listening to.

They knew better than they did about what would be popular. Because he was polite, he decided to take him up. They walked back to everyone. He started by apologizing to them. Jon was able to convince him to give them creative freedom to do whatever they wanted with their music. How much? Complete. Rob asked for that in writing. He found a piece of scrap paper and a pen.

I, Jeff Blue, give Linkin Park and Bria Michelle complete control over their music. – Jeff Blue

He then signed and dated it. Thank you. After he left, Joe thanked Jon. They were very welcome. He then ordered them to erase the song they just played and forget it existed. They laughed. Brad hit the delete button, erasing its existence from the computer. Fuck yeah! Joe joked about having a party at Bria’s house. That sounded like an awesome idea! They laughed again.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia

[cagenerals]

Menace II Society: People try to leave but it's too late to leave

By JM

A movie I was introduced to at a very young age and would say is part of Black culture is “Menace 2 Society.” The movie follows two young men growing up in South Central LA and the daily struggles and temptations of just living in the “hood.” This movie is very relatable to Black men just trying to survive. The movie was released May 26, 1993 and was directed by Allen and Albert Hughes. The movie had a budget of 3.5 million and made 27.9 million.

The movie is so great because it follows the life of a young man known as Caine and his group of friends. The first shot of the movie shows Caine and his friend O Dogg in a local convenience store getting something to drink. The woman who owns the store starts racially profiling the two men along with her husband or the male store owner O Dogg and Caine seem quite used to it so they continue to buy their drinks and as they’re paying for it the Asian man who owns the store tries to keep the men's change. This created a small confrontation and then the man then continued to hand O Dogg the change. As they are walking out the owner mumbles, “I feel sorry for your mother.” O Dogg then gets very angry and robs and kills the man, Caine, not knowing what happened. He dropped his bottle when he heard the gunshot they proceed to go in the back and kill the woman and take the video tape. This is a prime example of at the wrong place at the wrong time. Caine just went to get a drink and became accessory to a double homicide and armed robbery. This just shows you how unpredictable our environment can be. I relate to this a lot because out here it's the same way. You can just be walking to the store and anything can happen.

The movie takes a very dark toll when Caine and his older cousin who he looks up to are driving to the gas station to get some food. They stop at a red light and a car pulls up next to them and a man points a gun at Caine’s cousin and demands his belongings and car keys. Caine is in shock and doesn't know what to do but his cousin acts cool while slowly reaching for his gun he had under the seat. This triggers the men trying to rob him and they shoot him and Caine. After this Caine’s friends hear the gunfire and come get him and bring him to the hospital. They had to leave his cousin because he already appeared dead. Once Caine gets to the hospital it takes him a while to recover but as soon as he does he goes out for revenge, this is also another good thing for people to see because I know they think it is just senseless violence going on but it's not people are trapped inside the ghetto. The man had no money to provide for himself or his family so he robbed and killed Caine’s cousin. Now Caine is left with deep mental trauma as a lot of Black men are and his judgment isn't all the way correct so he decides to find the two men that did this and kill them for what they did to his cousin. It's a sad cycle that needs to be fixed and talked about more.

The main purpose of this movie was to bring to light the daily struggles of Black communities to people who do not live in them. Overall, the movie shows you the life of almost every young Black male in America who lives in the “hood.” A few months go by for Caine after this incident.. he had just graduated high school not too long before he did the things he did but he decides he wants a new life with the girl of his dreams and his stepson. But before he made this decision he made a much more important one: a week or two before he decided to move away with his new family a girl he had been seeing called him and told him she was pregnant. He said it wasn't his and hung up in her face. This was probably because of the fear of being a father at such a young age, so when the woman's family member came to confront Caine, he ended up beating the guy up badly. So on the day he decided he wanted to move, the same man he beat up came back and pulled a drive by shooting, killing Caine and his friend in front of Caine’s stepson and soon to be wife.

This is the end of Caine's story: a tragic end and that's how it goes a lot of times. People try to leave but it's too late to leave. Overall, I would give this movie a 10/10 for it's deep emotional grab on the viewer and it's very accurate representation of Black community struggles as far as crime goes.

Readers respond: Were there any underlying positive messages behind the movie?