#latest episodes we have come so far it feels like it was only yesterday when rei said he was not miri's papa but now he's all like

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [5].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. swearing, someone cries again, mentions of bullying, mentions of sex. WORD COUNT. 3.9k

TAGLIST. @cerealdreamwriter @tyongff-ff @dinonuguaegi @certifiedmoa @blueberrgyuu0 @primantha @blu3bell4 @nunugget @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @captivq @tocupid @seosalad @ddazed-lhs @gyuszie @mifuyuyo @error-cant-function @twocupsofsuga @flowerbe0m @dangerousconnoisseurbanana @laviesm @keikeu @elavin @chaemmie @rikisly @satsuri3su @gyugyubin @junhuicosmo @skzenhalove @luvkpopp @yansbolobao @emer-syn @eggomi @drunkinjake @soobiverse @deobitifull @haechanspudu @yawnzzn27 @7myoi

NOTE. this is the soobin chapter. before anyone says anything, i also used to be a loser in high school so i am very qualified to write about this. anyway, please let me kmow what you think so far! ty for reading!

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 5 — staring contest of death.

SOOBIN HAS ENCOUNTERED A PROBLEM. It’s quite a big problem— one that completely ruined his summer morning routine that usually starts at one in the afternoon. But it’s already 2 p.m. right now and he’s still laying on his bed, half of his head peeking out of the blanket as his eyes run over the text he received this morning over and over again from a group chat that’s been dead for a good three years. 

[Shin Jaeyul: hey class of 20XX! met up with jindo and the rest the other day and we thought it would be great if we can all get together again! hope you’ll all be available for the reunion. i’ll send the details after this message but it’s gonna be held at seonghee’s family’s hotel so feel free to bring a plus one lol.]

[Shin Jaeyul: What? ANSAN HS BATCH 20XX REUNION. When? This Saturday, 6:00pm. Where? Chatoyer Hotel, Sapphire Ballroom Function Hall

“Just don’t go, man. It’s not like your attendance is graded.”

When Soobin finally gets the energy to come downstairs to eat, he shows the text to Beomgyu for a second opinion. They’re eating yesterday’s leftovers on the patio outside the dining room. It doesn’t take long for the rest of the boys to congregate on the lounge chairs.

“But a reunion sounds fun!” Jake throws in his opinion. “I met up with my high school buddies at Crown Towers when I went to Melbourne the other day.”

“They weren’t your buddies. They invited you so you can pay for all their drinks and ditch you,” Heeseung tells him.

“Hey, Matthew was there and he was glad to see me.”

“Matthew borrowed eight hundred dollars from you last month and never paid back.”

Jake simply shrugs and snatches a cold slice of pizza from the table. Soobin gives him a look of remorse. “Anyway,” Jay jumps in. “Hyung, you should go if you want to and don’t go if you don’t want to. What do you want to do?”

Honestly, if Soobin can help it, he’d never want to see anyone from his old school ever again. And he’d rather stay at home and watch the latest episode of JJK on Saturday night (and every other night, for that matter). “But...it’s kinda rude if I don’t reply, right?” is what’s holding him back. The group chat has been buzzing every minute, messages of ‘see you there’s’ and ‘I’m so excited’s’ popping up one after the other. Only a few others including him haven’t replied yet. “What excuse should I make?”

“Tell them you have a family reunion to attend,” Sunghoon suggests.

“That’s lame. They’re gonna make fun of him,” Beomgyu scrunches his nose. Sunghoon defends with “what’s so wrong with a family reunion?!” but Soobin is inclined to believe that Beomgyu would be right. He didn’t exactly have a pleasant high school experience.

It’s not that he was actively bullied, or anything. He just didn’t have a lot of friends. And not a lot wanted to be his friend save for the members of the manga club he was in— but that didn’t really contribute to his position in the adolescent food chain. It’s not like he was sociable, either. He still isn’t. He was just lucky enough to get adopted by Beomgyu and managed to get along with the rest of the guys after a good two years of living here.

“Oh, then dude, you have to go!” Beomgyu exclaims. “If you don’t go they’re just gonna talk shit about you still being a loser.”

“I am a loser, though?” he says. 

“Yeah, but you’re tall and good looking and hot and that’s enough to get them to shut the fuck up if you show up and dip after thirty minutes. You know what, give me your phone. I’ll handle this.”

“No, wait—”

Beomgyu snatches the phone from his hands and plops down on the chair right across from him, the other four quickly running over and looking over his shoulders. Soobin’s heart races. This doesn’t seem like a good idea. He is right. It only takes a second before things spiral into disaster.

“Don’t say that. You gotta sound cooler.”

“Dude, that’s gonna get him bullied. Let me do it—”

“Give it to me!”

“You’re all useless, let me take over!”

“Wait, let me make one last revision—”

“No! What are you all doing?!”

When Soobin finally manages to steal his phone back, he nearly passes out when he reads the message he— his friends— just sent to the group chat.

[Count me in. Do I have to wire double the money if I bring my girlfriend? Nevermind, I’ll just send thrice the amount. Thanks :)]

Horror washes over his face. “I added the smiley face,” Jake proudly announces. Holy fuck, he wants to crawl back into his bed and never wake up. 

“Who sent that I’ll be bringing my girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend! Why did you say I’ll be bringing my girlfriend?!”

His phone vibrates mid-fit and he’s greeted by a reply saying that they’re so happy he’s coming and they can’t wait to see him again. Soobin is not happy nor is he excited. “We can just get you one,” Beomgyu says, as a matter-of-fact, as if you can just purchase a significant other from a gas station vending machine. His face wrinkles in distress. “When’s the reunion again? Saturday? Jakey, do you have any rich heiresses that can pretend to be Soobin hyung’s fake girlfriend for a night?”

“I’ll call Mirae noona, but hyung, are you alright alright with someone fifteen years old—”

Soobin winces. “Please don’t call her.”

“I can try asking Hina,” says Jay. “I don’t know if she has me unblocked yet, though.”

Heeseung narrows his eyes at him. “Isn’t she your ex?”

“Jay dated someone?” Sunghoon gives Jay a mildly offended grimace. “The fuck? Why don’t I know this?”

“He’s always dating someone. But he also gets dumped after three days so I’m not sure if they even count.”

Before they could further into Jay’s questionable dating history, the conversation gets cut short by a groan from Beomgyu. “Wait. We literally have a girl living with us right now.” His words send a signal into all their ears. It takes a moment for it to settle, and when it does, it’s like a thinly stretched rope snaps in half in the air.

Oh.

Right.

You.

“Are—are you sure about that?” Sunghoon is the first to crack the tension-filled silence. “Don’t we have other options?”

Soobin hears furtive whispering and nodding from Jake that somehow involves your name and the phrase “that’s right, she’s a girl, yes,” but chooses to ignore it and instead starts dreading the near and impending future. “It’d be better if it’s someone Soobin hyung already knows,” Beomgyu replies. “Hyung, what do you think?”

He thinks this is insane and bonkers and absolutely fucking impossible to pull off because he can’t even look you in the eye without sweating his skin off. How in the fuck he supposed to fake date you? To stand next to you? To call you with so much affection in front of numerous people he finds extremely uncomfortable to be with? To look at you? To h—

Oh god. He doesn’t have to hold your hand, does he?

“Hey, I don’t think this is fair. That’d mean Soobin hyung will technically—”

“This won’t count towards the bet,” Beomgyu says, then looks at a now red-faced Soobin. “You don’t mind right?”

Shit, he’d have to, right? But he can’t even look at you without his palms leaking like a faucet and stuttering like a broken machine. This is insane. He can’t do this. He can’t and won’t do this or else he’d actually have a heart attack and die.

“Hyung?”

“Is— is this all really necessary?” he finally sputters out.

They all look at him. “But we already sent the message.”

Right. They did. Soobin’s face falls defeated and he sinks back into the chair. “I’ll go grab her,” Beomgyu announces, and the gazes shift from him to their friend who has now risen from his seat and is walking back into the house because since when was he close enough with you to do that? You two usually bicker and argue and Soobin has seen the murderous intent in your eyes whenever Beomgyu tries to provoke you. Sure, the amount of daily arguments has definitely died down as of late and it’s mostly one-sided now, but if there’s anyone close enough to disturb your weekend for something stupid, it’d be Jake.

But they say nothing about it and watch as Beomgyu disappears inside and comes back out a minute later with you in tow, pulling you into the patio by the arm you as you grumble and groan, begrudgingly forcing your legs to follow him. “Seriously, what do you want? I was having a nice nap, you bastard. Where are you taking me? Hey, answer me. Are you still mad about the—” 

When you finally notice the rest of their presence, you stop complaining.

“What’s this? Are you having a cult meeting?”

Jake greets you with a smile. “Take a seat! We’ll explain everything.”

It’s almost impossible to glean anything coherent when there are five-ish boys talking at the same time, but you seem fine, nodding along to whatever Beomgyu and Jay are currently rambling into both of your years. Soobin grows increasingly worried by the second. “I’m so sorry. You really don’t have to do this.”

He hopes you don’t want to do this. Knowing how you practically terrorized him a few weeks ago for accidentally taking a bite out of your ice cream, you probably didn’t want to deal with him either. Yes. This is good. Soobin can just ignore the group chat and ghost his old classmates on the day of the event, so this is—

“I’m down,” you finally say. 

—what?

“You’re— you’re down?” he stutters out. He must have heard wrong, obviously. Haha, there’s no way you would—

“Yup. It’s this Saturday, right? I’m pretty sure I’ll be free, so it’s cool.”

Well, shit.

He’s fucked.

“Why do I feel like you’ve done something like this before?” Beomgyu shoots you a glare of suspicion. You grin. “Of fucking course you have.”

“Sunoo paid me a pretty convincing fee for me to sit pretty at his sister’s wedding,” you explain before shifting your gaze to Soobin, a smile playing on your lips. His fingernails dig into his palms. “Obviously for Soobin, I’ll do it for free. But we have a problem.”

His eyes flit away not even a second after, chest tightening on the spot.

“Yeah. I think we need to work on that.”

Thus begins the series of daily staring contests between the both of you for the next four days until Saturday. It scares the shit out of him when you bang on his door at random times of the day just to torment him with your very existence. Soobin knows you’re doing this to help him. He knows, he really does, but he’s not very good at maintaining eye contact without his heart racing at an unhealthy rate and without sweating profusely. His longest record has been ten and a half seconds before his face explodes like a volcano.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think this is gonna work.”

Soobin’s muffled voice is weak, red face buried into his palms as you both sit cross-legged on his mattress after another failed staring contest. The rows and rows of anime figurines he has displayed next to his bed are all staring at him in disgusting judgment. It’s now Friday. The reunion is tomorrow, and he can’t even look at you— much less pretend like you’ve been dating for the past six fucking months.

“No! You can do it, Soobin! I believe in you! Let’s try one more time, okay?”

You grab his hands, pulling them away from his face and they settle on his soft blankets, yours over his, and he starts silently freaking out because shit— holy shit, you’re squeezing his knuckles. It’s barely any pressure, but he feels it shooting into his throat like a silver snake choking him with ten pints of venom and that’s not even the worst part because you’ve decided to start looking him in the eye again. 

He rasps out a little noise and tilts his head down to the right. You do the same. He shifts his gaze to the left. You do the fucking same, chasing after his eyes relentlessly like a god damned predator on the hunt and he can feel his palms sweating pathetically into his blanket while you’re still locking them in place.

“Okay,” you breathe out, leaning back and he finally feels the blood circulating into his fingers. “What if we follow Jay’s suggestion instead and have you wear sunglasses the entire time?”

Honestly, it’s about time you gave up on him. 

Your eyebrows are scrunched, deep in thought. Soobin can look at you right now because you’re spacing out and not attacking him with the depth of your stare. He’s not used to attention in general, so something about your pretty eyes with pretty eyelashes and prettily focused expression looking directly at him just renders him completely useless. It’s fine when you’re absentmindedly looking at the posters on his wall, still in the midst of weighing your options. It’s fine because you aren’t focused on him.

“But the event is indoors and in the evening, so that won’t make a lot of sense.” And his composure immediately topples down when you flit your gaze back at him. His breath hitches in his throat. “Soobin, do you have any other ideas?”

He grabs the nearest pillow and squeezes it to his chest. “Do— do we have to do this? Can’t we just show up and leave after ten minutes?” Better yet, he just doesn’t show up at all. But you’ve been putting in so much effort these past few days, so he doesn’t want to cancel out of nowhere.

You frown. “Eye contact is the first step to selling that we’re a real couple! Even if we stay for only ten minutes, they’ll get suspicious if you can’t even look at me,” you tell him. “Soobin, let’s keep trying. C’mon.” 

Soobin is trying. He really is trying his best but one more round and he feels he might actually rupture a brain vessel. “Alright,” you exhale. “Nevermind. We’ll handle it somehow. I’ll head back to my room now so you can rest up. See you tomorrow.”

It takes no time for you to get off his bed and start walking to his door. His stomach sinks, watching your back as you reach out for the doorknob and Soobin feels like he had just disappointed you. 

He moves before his mind can think. Before he knows it, he’s out of the bed and is holding your wrist and pulling your hand away from the door. 

You look at him. He looks at you, drenched in the color of panic and confusion and at the same time a shade of earnest emotion. It stays like this for a good couple of seconds, until your lips curl into a smile and your free arm reaches up to his head, fingers dipping into his hair for a light pat.

“Thirty seconds. Good job. See you tomorrow.”

Now you completely understand why Soobin didn’t want to attend this dumpfest.

The hotel function room is fancy. Truly fancy. But the elegant crystal interiors and decor can’t hide the scent of pretentious obnoxiousness in the air, and the music siphoning through the speakers can’t drown out the sound of shit and crap and trash being exchanged between alleged old friends and classmates. It’s gross. The only saving grace of the night is the wine you’re swirling in your hand, regulating your slowly thinning patience at the scene before you.

“Soobin, buddy! Oh man, I didn’t think you’d make it!”

Here we go again. This is the what— fourth, fifth person? Soobin greets number five with less enthusiasm than the newcomer. He’s already worn out, poor boy. You prepare to intervene when you get an opening.

“Jaeyul,” Soobin says. “Hi.”

“It’s been a while, aye? You look great, man! What’s your glow up secret? You gotta tell men dude.”

Another patronizing comment from a mediocre looking male at best. They’re really lucky Soobin is an angel. You can see the discomfort in his smile when the Jae-something bastard hooks him by the neck, tugging your beanpole down because he’s at least four inches taller than his snotty ex-classmate. He looks even more uncomfortable than the time he got an unsolicited view of your red underwear. If it were you, you would’ve already kneed him in the balls to shut up his endlessly chattering mouth.

The guy’s gaze finally lands on you, tucked quietly behind Soobin’s shoulder. Took him long enough, honestly. You’ve been giving him the nastiest stare you can muster for the past five minutes, it’s honestly amazing that he only noticed now. “Who’s this?” he asks. Now, he’s just blatantly checking out someone else’s (fake) girlfriend. You hold back a scoff, but a sneer manages to slip out.

Soobin straightens, ready to repeat the script he’s been cycling through since the beginning of the night. “O-oh, this— this is—” But he seems to be a lot more nervous now. You decide to take the reins and give him a break.

“I’m his girlfriend,” you give Jae-whatever a smile, stepping forward to hold onto Soobin’s arm, who in return flinches at your touch. “Hi. I hope you don’t mind me intruding on your whole reunion. It’s just that I can’t bear to be apart from my Soobin for too long, you know?”

You’re hoping that your sickeningly sweet tone disgusts the living hell out of him and drives him away, but for some reason he lacks the social awareness to do that. “No, not at all. In fact, completely understand. I’m a taken man myself, you know?” That makes this situation a million times worse. He momentarily shifts away from you and directs his next words to Soobin. “Do you remember Bitna? We started seeing each other a few months ago.”

You can feel him stiffen next to you. “Congrats. I’m happy for both of you.”

“Didn’t you used to have a crush on her? I remember you’d give her chocolates every valentine’s—”

The twitch in his grin doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Alright, enough of this bullshit. You’re done humoring this bastard.

“Oh, sorry!” he turns to you again. “That was tactless of me, oh no. I apologize.”

You press your lips together, still smiling. “It’s fine. I wasn’t really paying attention to the bullshit you’ve been tirelessly spouting. I was wondering when you’d shut your trap and finally fuck off.”

Soobin snaps his head towards you, eyes wide in alarm. His dear old friend looks equally shocked. You hum and maintain your expression, pressing yourself closer to Soobin. “Is Bitna the one looking at us right now? Oh dear.” Shot in the dark, but you hit the mark anyway. “Anyway, if you’ll excuse us. My boyfriend and I will be heading back to our suite now to have absolutely brain-shattering, mind-numbing sex for the rest of the night that you—from the looks of your girlfriend over there— won’t be having for the rest of the week if you’re lucky enough to salvage your relationship. It was nice meeting you!”

You can see Bitna stomping her way over to her boyfriend, carrying a palpable dark force in her wake, so you quickly tug Soobin away by the hand and make your quick exit out the function room and into the elevator. You’re aware of how Soobin is currently looking at you like you’re insane as you press on the lowermost button on the panel. His eyes are practically drilling into the side of your face.

“This— this isn’t the way to our room.”

“I know,” you reply, watching as the doors close in front of you. Jay booked a room to sell your whole schtick a little further, but looks like you won’t be able to use it. “We’re not going to our room. That is unless you actually want to follow through with what I said earlier?”

When you turn to look at him, he’s already drenched in pink. You hold back a laugh. They make it so easy for you to mess with them. “I’m joking. I doubt you’d want to spend a minute longer here, so let’s just dip. These clothes are getting stuffy.”

Somehow you found yourselves at the 7-Eleven outside your subdivision, overdressed and sharing a pint of ice cream and two beers under the empty store’s fluorescent lights. You stuff a spoonful into your mouth and let your gaze linger on him for a while. Soobin has his head down, quietly staring at the top of his beer can. With a face like that, you think he’d be more confident and outspoken, but it’s almost funny how he’s trying to scrunch up his large frame in the tiny seat in front of you.

Look, you’re simply tapping an index finger on the back of his hand and he immediately flinches and draws it back. He’s so shy, so timid that you can’t help but grow soft on him.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says since you left the hotel.

You rest your cheek against your palm. “For what?”

“I mean, it’s just that— you spent the past four days making sure I didn’t mess up our whole act, but I messed it up anyway and we ended up leaving early. I’m sorry for wasting all your time and effort like that. I’m—I’m really sorry for being so hopeless and pathetic and—”

“Hey, don’t say that,” you cut him off. “If there’s anyone that’s pathetic, it’s that Jaeyun? No, Jaeyun is Jake. It’s that Jae-something bastard who’s pathetic. I mean, was he not loved enough as a child? Does he have a disease that makes everything that comes out of his mouth unrecyclable trash? Anyway, if anything, it should be me and the rest of the boys apologizing for forcing you into this. I’ll help you guilt trip them later when we get—”

You stop. You stop because you notice how his eyes are getting a little red, and how they’re getting a little glassy, and how he’s nipping at his bottom lip that you’re afraid it might start bleeding.

“Oh. Oh no. Soobin, please don’t cry.”

And he starts crying. Well, fuck.

You hastily get out of your seat and plop down right next to him, letting his head drop down to your shoulder. He continues sniffling as you switch between rubbing his back and giving him pats on the head, staring blankly at the empty aisles because the last thing you expected to do today is comfort a grown man in a dingy convenience store while you’re in high heels and a strappy dress.

“Let’s have a movie marathon with the boys when we get back, okay?”

At least you’ve gotten better at consoling people. It seems like a useful skill to have for the rest of your stay.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[utilitycaster]

To elaborate that post about shipping as if it's based on a points system, the specific incident was that the moment in the latest WBN that made me go "oh, yeah, this seems romantic" was Suvi giving her name to Ame before the ceremony, and holding Ame's hand to write it out, and the two touching foreheads as they talked about what was going on. Everything else has really felt within the realm of "best friend" and specifically "best childhood friend I haven't really seen in a long time, but left an indelible mark on me," which is still a profound bond, but this is the first moment that really felt it went beyond that. And it was a beautiful moment! I think that while Eursulon and Suvi clearly love each other dearly, his response was one of "what is this strange world," whereas Ame seemed to have a better sense of the gravity of the occasion, and Suvi was able to open up to her more (and then run away for having done so, natch).

So it is a little frustrating that so much focus is on the conversation later in the episode, when Indra's message reaches Ame in the bathroom while Suvi is also there; and on Suvi reflecting on this as she goes to see Silver; and comparatively little on that smaller, far more intimate and profound scene.

It's not that the part at the after party isn't fun, but it's pretty standard Drunk Female Friends In The Bathroom except, you know, witchcraft messages. I don't say this insultingly at all - I loved it and think the juxtoposition of that vibe with the incredibly solemn naming ceremony, realization of Ame's position, and - but it feels very much like a wacky sitcom plot, particularly with the Fox's interjections. And then the focus on Suvi very reasonably thinking about her friend, who has just come into her role as Witch of the World's Heart, as she walks to Silver's place is just. You can have more than one relationship - and I mean this purely in the term of Closeness With Other People - at once, and indeed, I hope you do! I hope that if you have a romantic partner you also think a lot about your friends! I hope that you think about one friend who's going through a lot while also spending time with other friends! And what's truly wild is that I like Silver a lot, and I also don't really get the sense that will be an endgame romance and we are very early into what will be a very long campaign. There's no need to try to get him out of the picture at this point, and focusing on that still ends up focusing more on him than on the scene!

I guess the best way to put it is that like, this mentality of shipping - the points system - feels like it's behind truly everything I can't stand with shipping in fandom. It's behind such meaningless shipping bullshit microexpressions (not true here obviously but in video format) and (in actual play) coincidental matching dice rolls and vague mechanical parallels for sure, and interpretations like the bathroom scene where I'm like "do you guys have any meaningful platonic relationships in your life," and definitely the thing I said yesterday about mean-spiritedness. It's about "who does this person agree with on this particular issue that's the subject of this episode" and not "who do they have a longstanding history of being able to work through conflict in a loving way." It's about this idea of only being able to think about one person or thing at once. It's about a focus on a monogamous endgame in a cottage above all to the point that you can't enjoy the journey, which really makes me wonder what you're getting out of shipping. It feels very, if you'll excuse the math reference, like a Markov chain sort of mentality where the present state supersedes all of the past, which really misses the entire point of a long-form narrative. It's like more points and also last person to do something wins which is just the grimmest way to think of love and romance I could possibly imagine, and it's so fucking prevalent, and that's before I even get to how it doesn't even tally the points right, both in that smaller but deeper scenes get ignored and if everything had gone super well with Silver I know for a fact people would just go "I do not see it". Like, people pick the winner (arbitrary personal preference) and then backfill the evidence while pretending it's a points based game and none of this makes sense in the context of "experiencing a longform fictional narrative." And then if it doesn't happen they call for a referee and act cheated and lied to and don't realize it's because they ignored 75% of the game. Like. Is it fun being this deliberately obtuse? Is it really?

anyway point being I ship it but already cannot stand like 90% of the shippers, who are spending most of their efforts coming up with a completely unnecessary ship name anyway, which I think is indicative of truly everything going on here.

[skippyv20]

Unapologetically selfish, Harry and Meghan are a product of the American obsession with therapy The Sussexes’ latest addition to their therapese dictionary shows a defiant refusal even to consider other people’s pain CELIA WALDEN 12 December 2022 • 5:00pm Daily Telegraph uk

“Behind the scenes,” reveals Meghan in episode three of Keeping Up With The Sussexes, “I was just turtling.” Like so many of the brain burps she and Harry have felt duty bound to share in their Netflix whineumentary, this one needed to be translated. A quick Google search told me that “turtling” is a psychological term, popular in the US, used to describe a method of self-preservation whereby we retreat into our shells when the misery, trauma and pressures of life become too much to bear. According to therapists, “turtling has been found to be effective for both children and adults.” You see once safely back inside your shell it’s possible to work through the essential “turtle method” steps: recognising that you feel angry (about scarring experiences such as Her Majesty getting first dibs on which colours to wear for royal events) and accepting that you have a right to that anger (I mean, who made her Queen?). Only then is it possible to “come up with solutions.” For Harry and Meghan the solution was obvious: airing every grievance, however minute, and blaming anyone but themselves for their multi-million-dollar, duty free ‘predicament’ – one which, like everything else in the documentary, is described in bafflingly contradictory terms, with Prince Harry mournfully asking “How did we get here?” just minutes after his triumphant: “Look at how far we’ve come!” So all those rhetoricals being asked by commentators around the world since Netflix dropped the first three episodes of the show last Thursday – “How can he do this to his own father and brother?”, “How could they disrespect the late Queen in this way?”, “How can they not be ashamed by the sheer tackiness of their behaviour?” – are missing the point. This is not about Harry’s loyalty to his country or family. These two crusaders can’t get bogged down with other people’s feelings, as today’s new trailer, in which Harry takes aim at Prince William, makes clear: “They were happy to lie to protect my brother, but they were never willing to tell the truth to protect us.” No, this is about Meghan and Harry’s own mental health journey, about us being invited to witness six hours of on-screen therapy – after the many hours they’ve clearly both spent “working on themselves” in private.

Prince Harry: 'They lied to protect William' | Netflix trailer

Having spent over a decade in California, a place that sees therapy as the answer to every ill, and “trauma”, as the New Yorker put it so beautifully in a piece on the rise of therapy-speak last year, “around every corner… like the unwanted prize at the bottom of a cereal box”, I can spot a victim of excessive “shrinkage” a mile away. God knows I didn’t need Adele to admit (only yesterday) that she was having “five therapy sessions a day” during her divorce. That much is obvious. There’s an unapologetic selfishness, for one thing, after all those expensive hours on the couch, being told “you do you” – something the Sussexes have taken with them back into the outside world. There’s a defiant refusal even to consider another person’s pain. And a hyperbolic language that elevates every uncomfortable experience to a gaping, open wound. “I wasn’t being thrown to the wolves,” says Meghan in the new clip. “I was being fed to the wolves.” There is no impetus to heal, of course. The wound has to remain open, ideally weeping, and the hurt revisited, time and time again, if you’re to be assured lifelong victim status. And the couple desperately need that status – certainly in the absence of a royal title – to make money and remain relevant. Hence their fluency in therapese. Against the sweeping Downton Abbey-esque score that accompanies their confessionals, the couple talk about the “layers” of difficulty within their mythical love story and how it wasn’t “a particularly healthy way to start a relationship.” There are tortured bleatings about “self-worth”, about Meghan’s inability to “authentically be myself”, when “so much of my self-identification was trying to figure out where I fit in.” About Harry being seen as “part of the problem rather than part of the solution.” On Thursday, he will up his game: there was “institutional gaslighting”, no less.

We can only hope that once Harry's autobiography is published, it will be the last we hear of the Sussexes’ tortured bleatings All of this is offset with constant reminders about their loftier purpose. Once a problem has been “identified within yourself,” says Harry, “you then need to make it right. It’s education. It's awareness. And it's a constant work in progress for everybody, including me, you know.” The humility’s a nice – if fraudulent – touch, but the message remains the same: when you have the moral high ground, nothing and nobody is off limits. If the (deeply private) wedding party images released at the weekend to promote the final three hours of Keeping Up With The Sussexes are anything to go by, there will be a brief respite from the whining in episode four – just long enough for us to enjoy their wedding night – before we’re back to the evil “theys” and the “us against the world” narrative Harry and Meghan have laid out from the start. And I wonder what therapists might caution a terminally narcissistic couple who have alienated family, friends and country, played all their cards, and been left dependent on each other? I’m guessing there might be concerns as to how “healthy” that relationship is, and how easy it might be for these two to turn on each other if things don’t play out as expected. Because as Meghan says herself: “We had to stay connected. We wouldn't have survived it if we weren’t.” I hope for their sake that they do. But once their six hours are up and Harry’s autobiography, Spare, is published in just under a month’s time, the rest of us could do with these two retreating into their shells for goid 

Thank you for this….❤️

[theghostus]

40th day of 2023; how ironic.

"The feeling that I want to unalive myself today. Now, do I qualify for your time Mr/Miss/Mdm Psychiatrist?"

Do you feel unaliving myself? That's the first question they ask. I actually hesitated for a split second, and due to the need for self-preservation and habit, I lied. So you don't need help fuck off. Don't waste my time. You don't need me. You need a friend, so fuck off.

Yup, that's what my therapist or one-time only said.

So life taught me I don't need anyone else help. Just do it myself. However, not everything can be solved with a friend. They have their own demons to fight. Also, I don't want to give my 2 only friends a panic attack by proclaiming that out of the blue.

Truth is, I felt that ever since I came into this world. Ever since I waited long enough to start to walk, I had to work harder than a normal person. Because sometimes I don't feel I'm normal. I mean, what is normal to me, might not be normal to you. Some people say I'm too straightforward. Some might say I'm too blunt. Either way, I can't please anyone just know how to read the room. Fuck I've been reading the damn room for so long; it's just damn tiring. Although, at times, it's necessary. I get it. Yet, I get the feeling sometimes. It went away for almost over 10 years; however, ever since 2019, it has started to creep up again.

2022 had been a crazy year of trying to find myself, ending my losing the battle against reality. A total of 4 jobs, except for 1 job, lasted me only a week. So technically, it's 5 jobs. That sucks, by the way. I felt I was going crazy. The first one was crazy, like people can't just leave me alone. Here I'm trying to learn, and these fuckers won't leave me alone. Like none of them gives me any fucking respect. In the next one, everyone puts the boss on a pedestal. I mean, if you did something significant, he knowledges but god forbid if anyone pointed out his shit. Yes, I also did my fair share of stupidity over the 6 months. I must give them credit for covering my ass for that. The last straw was when I had to be the messenger of bad news. I was trying to understand how they count their shit, but the big boss decided to change the MF calculation 2 months b4 oath-taking. ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE? Then he told the snr mgr to tell us the NEW way and inform the candidates; one of them, I had painstakingly handheld to make sure she understood and to tell her the revised way of calculating. I was livid is an understatement. Nope. I'm not going to take that BS way of making your staff listen to you and your staff to get abused by the candidates. The big boss did not care for his staff's well-being. I can't understand why my snr mgr could withstand his abusive ways for over 10 years. For the 3rd one, I was alone in the 2nd mth of the job. It was painful. My accounts were so far behind when the accounts asked me for it I was confused as I wasn't taught that. TL was an amazing pinoy. couldn't ask for a better team leader; they don't deserve her. But I felt so alone, and the tasks were piling up, and I was trying so hard to catch up. There were so many acrobatic moves to understand. It wasn't bad environmentally, but I don't see myself forever there. My last job broke my record of 1 week can be summed up with 1 word. Bitch/s. I guess I don't have the stamina to stand for uncultured swine. Work, work, work.

Now we come to the latest episode, Will I unalive myself today? I went for a job preview yesterday at a parks board. Their office is smack in the middle of it. No kosher food within 20m of the building. there are only 2 timings of free buses. oh, and no air-con in the storage room where they kept the boxes and boxes of paper files. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Even a library full of old books has air-con. Fine. Today I went to another informal/chit-chat session with the snr officers transport office. I admit I like the sense of power having to issue summons. Exciting. However, I felt like I shot myself in the foot again, and the environment would be exactly like the hospital, but I hoped it would be something like the clinic.

Overall I may lose both of them. I don't mind losing the park one, but...I can't cope with the transport one. Hence the episode, will I unalive myself today?

All I want is to be happy.

[knowlesian]

moths and muppets: aka, consider the humble metaphor.

i’ve been thinking a lot about the true power of a good metaphor, thanks to that damned silk moth, and it made me start chewing on my very favorite metaphor of all: the grand unifying call to muppet theory.

i truly love the stuff we’ve all come up with as a fandom in this vein, especially the meta about how everybody comes from their own canon. i’m going to talk more about why that’s so perfect after i knock out the practical and thus easier to line up and argue half of this and get down to my favorite part: full tilt feels.

hell, i’ve had my own fun joking about izzy being confused sepsis and linear time don’t exist anymore and i will continue to have said fun, as fun is a fucking vital element of fandom engagement too, but here's the thing: those are metaphors and jokes, not practical realities. izzy himself seems unaware of any difference in either one of those things.

to break it down by stating the obvious: metaphors aren’t the literal thing happening. they can’t be, by their very definition. they function on Vibes alone and pull themes into the mix too when they’re feeling flirty, or it sort of breaks into less-coherent pieces the more you find the ways in which it does not function literally and perfectly.

the sunrise is a painter, spreading fire across the sky: poke that metaphor with a stick, watch it crumble as logic fails to apply.

by that token there are no prior or different canons, in terms of the characters genuinely changing genres or switching worlds. they only actually exist in this canon, because... well, this is the only canon this version of these characters literally have ever existed in. we can have fun theorizing about backstories and the relationships in existence until the day izzy and co stumbled over the revenge and crashed through our metaphor wall until the cows come home, and i myself will be there with bells on. but for practical terms, the show remains the only show that exists outside the realm of metaphor.  

they show us this general coherence, even in the text itself: fang and ed and ivan and izzy aren’t actually transformed by suddenly entering a muppet movie. and more to the point for now, in terms of practical skills and general expectations of the laws of physics, as far as we know they can all do what they could do before we started following their lives. no less, no more.

ivan still has advice about and dibs on gold teeth while stripping corpses, fang steers the ship and kicks ass and has great cheekbones. it’s just now, the context in which they are being received (and isn’t received a great way to say consumed? come on in, received says. we’ll have cake) is entirely different.

the duel is a case study in how this works: we know ed has a side full of old wounds from being stabbed in exactly the way stede survived being stabbed. they made sure to show us that surviving this is not at all unprecedented in ed’s pre-stede world, and that ed just shook off his latest light case of stabbing earlier in the episode. 

so textually, izzy is baffled he lost a sword fight by unconventional means (as well as stunned by the subtextual introduction to the idea of topping from the bottom/bottoming from the top? their metaphor dick measuring/fucking will never stop amazing me) and that it was stede he lost to, not worse at dueling or actually bothered or even confused by a sudden lack of blood poisoning. and he’s not shocked ed rowed into the middle of the ocean at the narratively perfect time in the finale; he never once questions or seems disturbed by the outsized ways our rules of reality don’t matter here.

he bitches hilariously to jackie that stede sucks and likes ed’s hair too much and that he really could have beaten him if it wasn’t for those meddling kids, mark his words, but he never says: the rules of my basic reality were quite literally different yesterday. i am concerned i have tripped and fallen and now time doesn’t work. 

instead, over and over again he says through his words and the way he responds to being taken off-guard: people keep acting in ways i don’t anticipate and i reeeeeally don't like it. additionally, i refuse even once to just to roll with it and see where that goes. his constant i don’t know what the fuck is GOING ON AROUND HERE ANYMORE response to the events of canon is primarily an emotional one.

(there’s a story beat here where izzy is essentially experiencing metaphor culture shock and he can’t or won’t metaphor codeswitch his way out of it that i find very fun and cool; we could all be izzy, in the real world, simply by being shoved into a cultural context we are unfamiliar with and immediately made deeply uncomfortable by.) 

for example: he’s very bothered by dicks (and open expressing of emotion other than ‘fuck this and also maybe i will kill you’ flavored emotions) and what people are now doing with them, right in front of his salad.

in a tangent about the realities of sailing that i swear will matter here if you stick with me through it, because it relates to my argument: even his choice to make lucius scrape barnacles at sea, the best example of izzy wanting a specific ship chore performed (other than his demand to stede about munitions so they can fight the spanish) is more about humiliation than real world sailing requirements. in the real world, unless you plan to have somebody throw on diving gear to do it, ships are usually docked before this task is undertaken. 

so izzy’s going about having lucius do this chore in a way that was not going to accomplish much. that is: if what he actually wanted was significantly fewer barnacles, for practical ship reasons. if what he wanted was to prove his power and authority and fuck with lucius in ways he can technically justify in-world, then what he did makes perfect sense.

and to be very clear: in the real world, izzy asking lucius to scrape barnacles while at sea (and without some sort of vague protection for his hands, especially given the effect of the waves on steadiness!) at all would require careening the ship, and doing so in a way that would have put all their lives in active danger. there’s even a period-typical (ish) name for the technique needed when attempting to do this at sea: the parliamentary heel. it was famously dangerous, and only to be done in red alert emergency situations where a dry dock or a beach couldn’t be reached in time. 

and here’s the thing— i don’t think the show is taking that realistic approach, or that we are meant to take away izzy could have gotten them all killed, not even a little bit. 

and i’m certainly not arguing he’s incompetent, either. ed wouldn’t have brought him on in the first place if izzy was actively bad at the 101s of How To Be a Cranky Lil Boat Guy, and i doubt even ed’s fondness or his position as first mate would have saved him for years from a quick shove over the side if he was actively detrimental to the pirating process in any way but being the middle manager we all fucking hate and refuse to do our absolute best for unless we have to, because our shit is on the line. 

it’s just that apparently, in ofmd’s world of candied melon silk moths where lucius is more peeved than genuinely worried for his hands, either a bunch of barnacles exist above the ship’s waterline for... Reasons, or the waterline randomly changes without a significant change in weight by jettisoning cargo. (and it would have to change a greatly unrealistic lot for this to happen, a difference not remotely explained by four people being off the ship.)

so don’t ask how any of this works real rules of ship gravity-wise or it stops working, ofmd says. izzy is very annoyed lucius won’t quit doing masculinity wrong, and he’s being petty about it and targeting him for a non-essential job he won’t be particularly good at that could be done later in a more sensible setting. that’s the beat the story is most interested in, so it just does not care if barnacles and their removal don’t work like that in our real world.

ofmd plays fast and loose with the rules of everything from time to scurvy to distance between places and what rowboats and the arms attached to the human rowing said boat are capable of. there is a need to accept that the rules of our own reality are just guidelines on this show, or a viewer will end up deeply frustrated when none of it quite lines up as it should. ofmd’s metric is ‘what’s coolest and/or best for the story’, and they’re really not concerned if anybody doesn’t want to fuck with that need to suspend disbelief; they demand you go with them or perish. literally none of this works in a canon concerned with applying the rules of reality stringently.

i point all this out because there’s an urge floating around to fill in a lot izzy never displays to us, insist he is the only one working and/or keeping the ship afloat, we just don’t see any of it now because they changed canons: but in that case, it comes back to why aren’t fang and ed and ivan stripped of skills or traits in the same way? and if it’s just izzy, why the uneven staggering? he’s still a skilled fighter and a good pirate. 

we just know despite those facts, fang and ivan didn’t like or respect him much pre-canon, given the stories about the time he was left in charge and the utter lack of fear that he’ll be pissed off at them. ed’s still scary to them, and fang still snaps to at even the idea he’s back aboard; as far as i can tell, unless we argue that izzy’s skills and relationships are different now but he simultaneously still knows his shit when it comes to battle and swordplay (pun intended) we should conclude skills are still at the same baseline for everybody. otherwise the show made some weird and specific choices to suddenly make izzy unevenly and unfairly disadvantaged in ways that aren’t about his emotional hangups, and arguing that carries a good handful of equally weird and troubling implications.

which brings me to the emotional kicker on the logic end, because if izzy’s right to act like such an asshole, and we just can’t see the necessity anymore by the virtue of canon change— or in some ways if he was ever right and doing so was 100% ever actually necessary— then by that same logic, ed was right to demand fang kill his dog. they were in a different canon! a canon where dogs needed to be killed! even if we could just LET OTHER PEOPLE GIVE THEM A NICE HOME, E D. we can’t change our rules on this kind of thing by character, if we’re calling it logic and not metaphor, and we all seem to agree there isn’t any world where that was called for.

ed gets fang a new dog endgame or i BURN DOWN THE HBO OFFICES. FUCKING... RENEW IT!!! anyway.

everybody’s emotional literacy and ability to be open is absolutely changing, and the reception they are given by stede and the crew of the revenge clearly isn’t what they’re used to, but in terms of ‘can they do the literal practical stuff they used to do and are the laws of gravity in-world the same’, they’ve all still got it.

to poke holes in my own favorite framework more, chauncey and nigel (and even mary!) are from stede’s canon, and should thus be muppets, right? the metaphor breaks down again there, as metaphors themselves are wont to do when you stretch them too far. none of them quite work within the literal muppet read. then there’s the king: is he from ed’s canon or stede’s? both? everyone’s???? what would that even look like or mean? he seems pretty muppet-y in vibes while remaining anti-muppet in allegiance/narrative positioning, but that’s a stretch once more and only works for him. and how about spanish jackie and geraldo? they’re from izzy and ed’s world and olu and jim’s. so: muppet or not? once you try to make a metaphor a literal plot detail and make it fit everything, it falls apart faster and faster.

(not to mention: geraldo is from jim’s world twice over, given what we find out from spanish jackie. he was there the day their family died, but he’s also part of the current action in a way that bears almost no resemblance to jim’s Ported In energy.)

which is the perfect lead-in to getting away from strict textual analysis and into why i love a metaphor in general, but these sort of metaphors in specific: the quiet part loud is that none of these characters are muppets.

because this isn’t a muppet movie, in anything but structure/metaphor/vibes: these are humans. (or seagulls, i suppose, but i will tip my cap in respect to karl and olivia both and then set them aside, for the purposes of this argument.)

this means they’re all played by actual human actors, but more than that, the characters themselves are gloriously human. even when they act cartoonishly, and the rules of our reality don’t apply to them— maybe especially then.

the writers have twin wells of seemingly endless empathy and accountability sitting side by side in a meadow of knowing their shit on the weird little quirks of being a human. these are not literal muppets, they are fictional humans.

complicated, wonderful humans. capable of kindness; capable of shocking new depths of dumbfuckery.

they make bad choices, they fail to communicate, and then they whip around and exhibit good sense and use their words to express the shit other people can’t know unless told. they do this because that’s what we all do, as we cart around our own pasts and pain and bring our thoroughly un-blank slate into each interaction we have on earth.

in my real life, i’m sort of obsessed with the idea that no two people can ever read the same exact book even when it is the same exact book, and with asking people the question “when you say ( fill in the word/phrase ), what does it mean to you?” when i start to feel like maybe the issue is not primarily in the meat of any given disagreement i’m having, but instead in the packaging.

from experience: people do not like being asked that question. they hear me say that, and what they process is ‘this motherfucker didn’t listen! and i was VERY clear’ and then i ask it again because they understandably don’t feel like clarifying word choice in the heat of the moment, as they 100% know what they meant, causing even more frustration.

(i have been told more than once i am very annoying to attempt an argument with, because i keep asking that question anyway. sorry about that, people in my life!)

the problem here is when i say that, i exemplify the thing i’m talking about: i come in with the baseline assumption that we all use the same words a little differently, and that’s not always a truth universally acknowledged no matter how real and obvious it seems to me. that’s before you get to the arena of legit mishearing someone, or somebody having a slip of the tongue or not knowing what something means and just using the wrong word. i’m talking about the fact that when i say anything, i bring all my own context and knowledge and previous conversations to bear, and same goes for the people i speak to.

i say beautiful, you might see a flower or that fiery sunset from the intro or, i don’t know, taika’s eyes/arms/belly: i might see something out of left field, like the inner mechanisms of a washing machine. so already, with the same basic understanding of what beauty generally means, we are starting from very different places and are going to have to work to bridge that gap between us.

i said all that to say: this is why i love the idea that every character is from their own genre, because what a fuckin’ metaphor that is all on its own. 

we are all from our own canons, metaphorically, while from the same one literally. we star in our own movies, where we are the main character, and in the story we are telling ourselves other people know that, and react to us and our choices accordingly. 

that’s not a value judgement, because we can’t baseline exist any other way: you weren’t born in my body, i didn’t live your pain or experience your joy. we are who we are, and we can’t go back and change any of it or gain the ability to read minds. if i want to see you as a whole person or you do the same for me, we are both going to have to pause our own movie for a second and attempt to watch the other’s without applying the rules that worked for us to a different canon, where things work differently and somebody else is the main character.

we exist in the same world: we exist in very, very different worlds. we’re the same; we couldn’t be more different. these are correct, all at the same time, and in the exact same way they’re all not quite right.

the beauty of a metaphor is that it can access an emotional truth, not a literal one. they’re for identifying something so deeply held it’s hard to entirely express in plain terms, and making it as beautiful as the gears turning inside every machine, keeping them running in ways unseen from the outside and unknown to the casual observer until they tear open the casing and see what makes this old thing tick. and at their very, very best, they’re not about construction or elegance; they’re about finding a core truth.

because of that metaphors suck with linear time and gravity and coherent real world logic— and that’s fine! they’re not actually about any of that. drill down past form to function and metaphors are about finding the best way to ask: you seeing this shit, too? that way you know you’re on the road to finding your people when somebody else pipes up ohhhh baby, AM I. 

that’s communication; that’s solidarity. that’s fucking love.

moths and muppets, clouds that look like dicks and dicks that look like honesty, silk hearts and a hearth at the heart of a liminal space ship, oranges and earrings— it’s no wonder ofmd is so goddamned fond of metaphors. everything a metaphor does best, ofmd is really fucking good at too.

[princess-fuckrosa]

Hi. I hope you don't hate sk8 adam. If you one of the unique and awesome people whole love/like Adam can you perhaps wrote a SMUT of him? I'm sad that i can't find and SMUT about him cause everyone hating on him. You can write anything tho i don't have any particular request.

Thank you and sorry for the bad English. English is not my first language

Ahw, don't worry Anon, this blog is a safe place for loving on anyone!

And well, let's be completely honest, everyone who hates on this moron, is actually right about it, the latest episode left me a 3 minute complete silence as I tried to recover from what he did to our dear Cherry.......

But, to be fair, I have a soft spot for all the motherfuckers like Adam, so all of you who love the Matador of Love, don't be afraid to send in your requests, I adore him too! 💖

And don't worry about your English anon, it's perfectly fine! Send me a request anytime I'm open! ❤

*EDIT: Yesterday I forgot to include some stuff, so I added them~

HEAVY smut under the cut, general TW for the innocent vanillas~

Ainosuke Shindo (Adam) SMUT headcanons

We already have some clues about how the Matador of Love would be like in a relationship, and let me tell you, and I don't think it's a surprise but...

It's not nice. At all.

or it depends on what you call nice I think haha

Ainosuke definitely has a big turn on for tears and fear.

He's a sadist, and I don't think he would be completely against being on the other end of the line, but he would be the top dom most of the time.

He's into both physical and mental abuse, but before we completely bookmark him under the 'heartless psycho' category, he won't do anything non-consensual.

I imagine he would search for his 'Eve' in this way too, and if someone wouldn't willingly submit to him, they are just not the right ones.

So unless you let him do whatever he wants, he wouldn't take you seriously. He might have a one night stand, as he does sometimes, but to be his Eve, that's not enough.

He would expect you to be 100% submissive towards him, but only in the bedroom, and not on the casual side. He would love the contrast between the two: you being bold and confident during the day, but a sobbing, needy mess at night - perfect.

Master/Pet play is a big kink for him.

At first, he would give you a taste - he wouldn't be half as rough as he usually is, but would make you cry during the act, just to show off his style a little

"Do you still want to be my pet?", he asked, his index finger lifting up your head to make your teary eyes meet his seemingly empty, red ones. If you managed to whimper out a yes, his fingers would brush your lips as he leans a little closer. "I'm gonna abuse you, y/n."

You saying yes to him again would make his blood boil in excitement again.

He would absolutely cherish the idea of having a s/o as a pet, someone who would adore and worship him, and he could play with them as much as he would like to. Wouldn't go as far as caging (well, if you really insist, he wouldn't be against it either), but would give you a collar with "Adam" written on the tag.

Ainosuke is the kind that would be gentle and caressing at the start, and as the play session goes he would get more rough and vicious.

He does a lot of foreplay. It's mostly anything that implies that he is in control, and usually it starts rather innocently.

He walks over to you, caressing your cheeks with a brief smile, giving you soft kisses on your neck, hands traveling on your body with gentle touches...

...only until you get completely relaxed. He would lean back a little, his fingers tracing your lips, and for the first time in the last few minutes, he would smile at you.

And the fun begins.

You quickly learn that specific smile, the innocent, kind one that only appears on his lips when he came up with something truly dirty and terrific.

Would totally manhandle and take advantage of you. Grabbing you by the hair or your collar to get you to the bedroom, but sometimes when he feels like it, he could be able to just pick you up in bridal style and carry you to his bed - which is gigantic, by the way.

With Ainosuke, expect a lot of messy blowjobs. He would let you start and show your appreciation for the first few minutes. But after that, he would cup your cheeks, tug into your hair and face fuck you with vigorous speed. Plus points if you wear any makeup, he would ruin it, and almost get off only on the sight of seeing you crying off your eyeshadow. It would be hard to stop him after he starts, and wouldn't really care about your discomfort, the only thing he would avoid is making you vomit, he doesn't like that

He would call you the dirtiest, filthiest names ever, but would praise you and call you sweet, loving names just as much, especially during said face fucks.  

He is not THAT into bondage, Ainosuke prefers using his hand and body only to get you under full control, but if he is in the right mood, he would totally tie you up and abuse the hell out of you.

Doesn't matter if you are a female or a male, he would absolutely torture your nipples. Flicking them roughly, pinching them, tugging on them so hard that your back arches, slapping and biting them.

Getting to the main act with Ainosuke takes a long time, he would make sure to make you come one way or another, at least once.

Sometimes, when he is in a more affectionate mood, or you earned a reward, he would overstimulate you until you're so dizzy and disoriented that you don't even remember your own name, because you screamed his name so many times during your climaxes. He would leave you no rest, once you get your first one, he wouldn't stop, aiming for the next one, and the next one, and the next one...

Finally, when he gets between your legs with his crotch, you're so wet or lubricated that it wouldn't be much of a struggle to slam into you without a warning.

Through the whole foreplay, he is just so aloof and cold, or somewhat loving yet collected, but now that he is in you - he would completely switch into an animalistic, rough beast. Grabbing and bending you, completely getting lost in your moans, whimpers, and screams.

Would enjoy a lot of poses, his favorites are mating press, spreader, v, all variations of doggy, and basically everything where he is in full control over you.

But when he gets close, he would prefer to switch into missionary, leaving no space between your bodies, looking into your eyes as he reaches his high.

Depending on his mood, he would be either very affectionate with aftercare, or just completely ignorant of it, leaving you in the room alone as he goes to clean up himself and return to his day.

If there's no risk of knocking you up, he would usually release his seed into you, as a way of marking you as his, but would love to just cum anywhere on your body for the same reason.

That being said, he is not an abusing asshole all the time. From time to time, he would be more gentle, focusing more on holding your body like it was the most precious thing in the world, keeping it close to him, shower it with kisses, lovebites, and loving gropes.

He would sense your mood often, and if you feel down for some reason, he would cuddle you, placing you into his lap and wrapping his arm around you, and he would offer you some distraction from your problems. If you accept it, he would pay attention to your needs. Sure, if you just want his usual self, he will order you around and give you a rough treatment.

But if you need lovemaking, how would the Matador of Love turn you down? It's just something he won't really go for on a regular basis, so savor these moments every time, but don't be afraid to mention it when you need it, he's bossy and narcissistic but up for negotiations.

The latter is rather rare, he would usually just cuddle up with your messy, hot body for a few minutes before helping with the cleaning up.

Either way, sex is hardly ever predictable with him, he would be able to surprise you every time even after a long, long time of being together.

[bring-it-all-down]

Much has been said about the Black Sails finale and its statement of the show’s themes, so I’d like to focus instead on the penultimate episode, specifically the following speech Jack gives as he’s headed back to Nassau with the goal of killing Flint:

The result ahead of us promises to be a victory of a different sort. A true victory. Freedom...in every sense of the word. How many men in the history of the world have ever known it? How remarkable a moment is this? How fortunate are we to be standing on the threshold of it?

I think this speech really gets to the heart of the show: it’s ultimately about what it means to be truly free. While this notion of freedom is discussed in Flint’s unparalleled final speech about dragons, it’s perhaps in 4.09 that we get the fullest exploration of freedom.

There has obviously been a lot written on the subject of freedom throughout human history, and rather than foolishly attempt to summarize thousands of years of philosophy, I’m going to refer to one of my favorite understandings, written by W.E.B. DuBois:

I dream of a world of infinitive and valuable variety; not in the laws of gravity or atomic weights, but in human variety in height and weight, color and skin, hair and nose and lip. But more especially and far above and beyond this, is a realm of true freedom: in thought and dream, fantasy and imagination; in gift, aptitude, and genius—all possible manner of difference, topped with freedom of soul to do and be, and freedom of thought to give to a world and build into it, all wealth of inborn individuality. Each effort to stop this freedom of being is a blow at democracy—that real democracy which is reservoir and opportunity” (The World and Africa: An Inquiry into the Part Which Africa Has Played in World History, pg. 165.)

DuBois here notes three central elements of freedom: the physical (“to do and be”), the mental (“thought and dream, fantasy and imagination”), and the generational (“give to a world and build into it”). The first two components of freedom are understood by much of Western political philosophy through the terms “negative liberty” and “positive liberty” (coined by Isaiah Berlin), freedom from external threats and freedom to engage in philosophic activity. To these conceptions, DuBois adds a third that all the white dudes who conceived of the other two wouldn’t be concerned with: central to achieving them is the recognition that every individual owes prior and future generations their efforts to maintain liberty, that liberty is not just a theoretical principle but an action.

Turning now to episode 4.09, I think we can begin to understand how each of these three types of freedom overlap.

To start, the conflict of the episode deals with negative liberty. Silver and Flint to some degree know that if one catches the other with the chest, there is a chance they will be killed, and Silver wants the chest to ensure that Woodes Rogers does not kill Madi. In short, they are fighting for their survival, their physical freedom.

Moving on to the flashbacks between Flint and Silver, we begin to see the connection between negative liberty and positive liberty. First, because Silver and Flint are equals without the same political obligations to each other as they have to the crew, the people who serve them and who they serve in turn, they can be honest with each other. Silver recognizes this in telling Flint: “The men...I have to manage how they see me...But for pride to be an issue between you and I, well, I think we’re playing past that by now.” Because they, at that point, have physical/negative liberty with each other, they are then allowed to pursue mental/positive liberty, that being the revelation of their true selves. 

However, Flint becomes aware that this physical liberty is an illusion because Silver is unwilling to meet him equally in their pursuit of positive liberty: 

You know my story. Thomas, Miranda, all of it. Know the role it played in motivating me to do the things that I've done, the things I will do. It has made me transparent to you. Not only that, but when I told you this story, you insinuated yourself into it. The latest in a line of ill-fated partners, situating yourself such that...were you and I ever to come to blows, I'd be forced to hesitate before doing you any harm.

Thus Silver actually has a physical advantage over Flint, negating any semblance of Flint’s physical liberty in their relationship. Through Silver’s attempts to kill Flint in this episode and in the finale, we see that without both physical/mental (or negative/positive) liberty present in any relationship, neither will exist; you cannot have one without the other.

This brings us to what I’ve decided to call generational freedom, though I suppose it could also be called communal freedom. In this episode, the concept of generational freedom is brought up in relation to both Jack and Madi. First, we see it in Jack’s conversation with the man he chose to navigate him to Skeleton Island:

Jack: You sailed with Avery.

Old man: Long time ago.

Jack: 20 years? More, even, maybe?

Old man: More, aye.

Jack: Mm-hmm. You do know where you're going, yes? No, seriously, I've got quite a lot riding on this.

Old man: One day, you'll leave the account. Take a wife, father children. See less and less of the sea until she becomes like a painting hanging on the wall, static and irrelevant to your daily existence. But she'll keep on calling you. And when she does, you'll step into that painting and feel the swell beneath your feet. It'll all come back as if it were like yesterday.

Jack: Is that so?

Old man: I've watched you and yours handle the account since I and mine left it. Accomplish things that no one I ever sailed with could dream of. From what I've overheard, if you reach Skeleton Island, might mean the end of the governor. Maybe keep the account alive a little while longer. Is that so?

Jack: That and more.

Old man: Then I'll take you to it. Hold on to this for as long as you can, for all of us who once had it...and walked away.

In this conversation, we see the generational connections within piracy. The old man sailed with Henry Avery, the person most responsible for establishing the current status of piracy in Nassau, and he is conversing with the person who will usher Nassau into a new era. He is careful to remind Jack of this link and of how unseverable it is; no matter how far away Jack gets from piracy, he will never be able to leave it fully behind. There is some sense of owing his existence in this world to Avery and all those who came before him, a debt he must repay with his actions (namely, removing Woodes Rogers and continuing the life of piracy in Nassau).

Immediately after this conversation, we get Woodes Rogers’ bargaining with Madi. He offers her an ultimatum: accept his treaty or he will kill Silver and all of Silver’s crew, which includes many of Madi’s people. Madi rejects his ultimatum with one of the most poignant speeches in the show:

The voice you hear in your head, I imagine I know who it sounds like, as I know Eleanor wanted those things. But I hear other voices. A chorus of voices. Multitudes. They reach back centuries. Men and women and children who'd lost their lives to men like you. Men and women and children forced to wear your chains. I must answer to them and this war, their war, Flint's war, my war, it will not be bargained away to avoid a fight, to save John Silver's life or his men's or mine. And you believe what you will, but it was neither I nor Flint, nor the Spanish raider who killed your wife. That, you did.

Because of her existence as a former slave who had lived in hiding for most of her life, Madi most fully understands generational freedom. She knows that the supposed freedom Rogers’ treaty offers her and her people is not actual freedom because it fails to address the unfreedom of her ancestors, of the rest of the enslaved people in the Caribbean, because she knows that freedom will never be achieved on the terms of the oppressor. She knows that she owes this war to every victim of England’s empire and that it is the only way to achieve what DuBois calls the opportunity to “give to a world and build into it.” 

This episode thus introduces the idea that “freedom every sense of the word” depends on one recognizing one’s duty to one’s community that consists of not just its current members, but its past and future members. Complete freedom is achieved when one begins to fight to protect the freedom of those who do not yet exist. Madi understands this about freedom, as does Flint, but despite Silver’s insistence that he and Flint are true friends and equals, he is incapable of grasping the generational component of freedom and he therefore ensures that physical and mental freedom, too, will fall outside of his grasp.

[stevesnightmares]

Doctor who s013e01-04: my thoughts

I'm honestly loving it. If you know me you know that out of season 11 and 12 I only really liked a few episodes and that I was overall extremely upset and disappointed in the show. Because of that I didn't have many if any expectations going in this new season. I didn't know it was going to be only 6 episodes, I didn't know it was going to be one big story and until yesterday I didn't even know it had already started airing.

1. The companions: as you (probably don't) already know I didn't form a connection with these characters the past 2 seasons, I didn't love any of the companions and I didn't care if any of them left. I still honestly don't care that much about Yaz, she's fine, but that's all, at least I don't hate her or find her annoying (like I did with *). We just met Dan 4 episodes ago but I like him so far, he's fun and adds a little bit humour. Don't have much to say about him because he's not one of those characters that I immediately fell in love with, so we'll just have to wait and see. As I've been saying for a while I simply think that we need a little bit of switch up when it comes to companions, we either need a companion that's at least from another time period that isn't ours or even one that is from another planatet instead of another wide eyes girl who knows nothing about space and idolises the doctor.

2. The Doctor: The last two seasons I honestly didn't form any connection with the doctor either, I didn't really feel like she was the doctor for a while, however this season for some reason she just feels more like the doctor, at least more than before. You could say that it's simply because I'm enjoying the story so I can also enjoy the doctor but I don't think so, I just feel like she's written better when it comes to her actions, to her feeling, the way she acts and makes decisions, the way she acts towards the companions etc, she just feels more like she's actually the doctor instead of feeling like a character who happens to be named doctor.

3. The story: I'm happy that they decided to take this one story route instead of stand alone episodes because it was just not working for them, their stand alone episodes from s11-12 were subpar, mediocre at best and forgettable, even boring if I have to honest. However I'm really enjoying the flow of the story, the way everything was introduced in episode one and is slowly unraveling in the rest of the episodes. Some say that some of the episodes didn't completely feel like doctor who but I personally don't care because in primis the doctor and companions felt like doctor who and secondly I'm honestly just happy to be enjoying the story after having spent two seasons and two specials being disappointed, upset, angry and sad with this show, as long as I'm enjoying it I'm fine, and I really am enjoying it.

4. I'm afraid that they'll fuck up the ending to be honest because I hated the latest reveal and they way they wrapped things up in general so I just really hope they will manage to stay on a high notes and not fuck it up in the last two episodes.

[bowensbyrams]

the canada dream {02}

n/a: hey, guys! Here’s part 2 of TCD, as promised. I’m sorry it took me so long to update, my classes are back and last week was kinda hard, but here we go! Please let me know what you think <3 

Pairing: Pierre-Luc Dubois x reader

Warnings: a little bit of angst at the beginning, mentions of abusive/toxic relationship

Word counting: 2,1k

Ps: part 1 can be found here: https://royaltyofhockeylosers.tumblr.com/post/627737248109133824/the-canada-dream-01 

I realize there's something wrong the moment I find myself opening the door to my old apartment in Boston. As far as I remember, I moved to Montreal and am living with my best friend Anna... Or was it just a dream? I wouldn't be surprised, I've been dreaming on moving to Canada for a while now. I enter the living room and drop my bag on the couch, heading to my room but a noise stops me. No, not a noise. A moan. A woman's moan. I live with my boyfriend, Thomas, and as far as I know, we don't share the apartment with another girl. My heart fasten with every step I take until I'm facing the white door that leads to my room. Our room. "Faster, Tommy" I hear the girl say and my boyfriend groans, making my skin shiver "Yes just like that" "God you're so hot, baby" Thomas' voice is like a fist to my stomach and the tears start rolling down my face. Not again, please. I open the door and the scene in front of me breaks my heart into a million pieces. My boyfriend is buried into a blonde's pussy and keeps thrusting in and out of her as he sees me. "Hello, princess. Do you want to join us?" his smile is almost wicked and I can't move, I can't breath as I watch him fucking her the way he used to make love to me. The tears never stop coming down and my sobbing seems to make him want to go deeper and faster until the girl screams his name.

~~ I sit on my bed, tears running on my cheeks and my heart racing like a horse. My entire body hurts as I'm forced to remember every single scene from that damn day, unable to erase the overwhelming feeling for good. My phone pings and I reach out to check it. When my eyes catch the clock and I realize it's almost 1 p.m, my heart skips a beat. I've never woken up this late, but I guess the adventures from last night and the anxiety of moving to another country to restart my life got the best of me. Unlocking the screen, I check the message app before anything else. There are 2 texts from Tyler and 6 from Logan, so I decide to open the latter thread. L: Hey Y/N, it's Logan L: I'm sorry for last night, I hope Anna is okay L: Tyler said he invited you two to the barbecue, cool! L: Here's the address and don't worry about anything, just bring whatever you guys wanna drink L: We reeeeeally want you to come, Luc is excited to meet you two I smile at the last text which is formed by at least 10 different types of emojis. I reply saying I need to ask Anna if she wants to come and lock the screen again, leaving my bed and going to Anna's room. My best friend is sleeping like a baby, so I decide to go make something for us to eat. When I'm almost done with the spaghetti, Anna appears in the kitchen with a pout on the lips and her brows furrowed. "Good morning, sunshine" I sing and my friend groans, sitting on one of the benches by the marble island in the middle of the kitchen. “I’m not feeling sunshiny today. I feel like I’ve been ran over by a truck. Multiple times” “That’s called tequila hungover and I’m not saying I told you so...” “Nah shut up” she shushes me waiving her hand “Can you get me a pill that’ll make this go away?” Anna points at her own head and I hold back a laugh, opening one of the cabinets where she showed me the medicines were. Handing her an Aspirin and a cup of water, I go back to the stove and turn it down, taking the pan to the island. Anna takes the pill and sighs, looking at the food. "Is this a dream?" my best friend asks when I put a plate in front of her and lets out a small moan when she takes the first bite "Honestly, if I had known you could cook like this, I would've invited you to move in with me way earlier" "Oh, don't get to used to it. My cooking knowledge is resumed to spaghetti, lasagna and burgers" "Who said we need more than that to survive?" Anna looks at me with an offended look making me laugh. We're half way through our meal until I decided to tell her about the barbecue. "So Logan and the other boys are hosting a barbecue today and they want us to come. It'll be just us, them, Tyler's girlfriend and that other guy they were telling us about yesterday. You in?" "As long as Logan keeps his alcohol to himself, I see no problem" she replies and I can't hold back my laugh. "Hey you're the one who suggested you guys should see who could get more shots in less time" "I never thought he'd say yes! That guy is crazy!" she snaps back and I laugh even harder. "Okay so we're going?" "Yeah, I guess so..." "Cool, I'll let him know then" * "What's up?" Anna asks as we're getting ready to leave. She's in my room, laying down on my bed as I finish putting some make up on. I'm wearing a long sleeved shirt with a jeans skirt and snickers since the weather gods decided to send a chill night to break the living hell temperatures of the day. Me and An spent the entire day laying on the floor and drinking an absurd amount of water while watching the latest episodes from The 100. "What?" I ask and look at her through the mirror. "You have a worried look on your face. What's wrong?" "Nothing... I just have a weird feeling that I should know something but I don't" I reply and focus on applying my mascara. "You're weird, Y/N. Are all americans like this?" "Hey!" I throw a pillow at her, making her laugh. As I finish everything and grab the beer packs we're taking, we're all settle to go. On our way to go, I open my Instagram and start scrolling through my feed - which is the most diverse thing in the world. It’s the perfect balance of hockey, singers, food, friends and family. I look at some of the posts before heading to the Story part. I slide through a couple until one catches my attention. It’s the same bar I was yesterday and I can see Anna in her white and red dress in the corner. I check the user and my heart skips a beat when I realize who it is. Pierre-Luc Dubois, one of the few hockey players I follow on Instagram. He plays centre for the Columbus Blue Jackets, my ex's home team, and my heart aches a little when a memory gets me. "Hey, I just saw you follow PLD on Instagram" Thomas' voice reaches me before he appears on our room. "Yeah, I've been following him for a while now, Tom" I say and go back folding the clean clothes. "Why?" he asks, making me look at him a little confused. "Why what?" "Why are you following him?" "Why not? He's a hockey player and I like him. What's wrong?" "Oh you like him? What, do you think he's gonna fuck you if you ever meet?" his aggressive tone makes me blush and my heart fasten. "Why are you saying this? I'll never meet him, Thomas, he's like super famous and lives in Ohio" "Exactly, so stop following him. I don't approve it and I don't like the fact that you're following these hockey guys. They're all assholes" my boyfriend says before storming out of our apartment, leaving me to try and understand what the hell just happened. I never stopped following Pierre's profile, but that was never needed since I caught Thomas in bed with another girl just two weeks after his little scene. That was three months ago and now I was living in Montreal with my best friend, trying to rebuild my life after what he did to me. I look at Pierre's story again and can't help the weird feeling that takes over my body. I knew he was French-Canadian, but I definitely did not know he lived in Montreal during the off season. I guess I never took the time to check on any player's personal lives. I mean, expect for Mitch Marner's but that's just because I really wish we were best friends but anyways. "Hey, you're on Pierre-Luc Dubois' Insta Story" I says and Anna almost throws the car out of the road. "I'M WHAT?!" Definitely should've waited until we got to the house. "Yeah, he was at the same bar as we yesterday and posted a photo of the dance floor. You appeared in the corner" "Wait... You're telling me that that fucking greek god was at the same bar as we and none of us saw it? Are you kidding me?" she says and the annoyance in her voice makes me laugh. "Yep, that's what I'm saying. What are the odds?" "I mean, they're high since his parents live here, but still.. We weren't even at the best bar of the city" "Maybe he is low key and was trying to avoid the crowds" "Yeah, probably" she agrees and changes focus. I observe the streets, filled with big houses with even bigger yards. "I guess Pierre is not the only rich who prefers underground bars..." I comment and Anna snorts, looking at the mansions. “Should’ve guessed he had money when you told me the neighborhood we were heading to, but damn” Anna says and all I can do is nod in agreement.

*

I was worried we would be late, but when we get to the house, Tyler and his girlfriend, Kate, are the only ones waiting for us. "Hey, guys" Ty greets us and takes the beer packs from me "Logan went to buy more beer, Jesse backed down and Luc is late as always" he leads the path to the backyard and I have to keep myself from dropping my jaw. The house is huge but the backyard is unbelievable. There's a deck where the grill is, a pool with a pool house and a soccer court. "This is my girlfriend Kate. Kate, these are the girls we told you about, Anna and Y/N" "Hi!" the curly haired and green eyed girl says and we down by her side. A couple of minutes go by and we're all getting along pretty well until Anna looks at her phone and sees that it's dying. "I think i have a charger in the car, I'll be right back" She leaves and only two minutes later my phone pings. A: don't freak out and act normal but i just bumped into logan outside Y/N: so what? A: pierre is with him My eyes go wild and before I can process what I just read, Logan's voice reaches me. “Look who I just found outside!” I look up asking God for Anna to be messing with me, but she's not. Pierre-Luc fucking Dubois is standing between Logan and my best friend, how's acting like there's nothing wrong. I try my best to do the same and I guess it worked since no one is looking at me with funny looks. "Luc, this is Y/N and Y/N, this is Luc" Tyler introduces us and Pierre shakes my hand with a small smile. "Cool, now you two know each other. Can we eat? I'm starving!" Logan says heading to the grill. “We’ve known each other for less than a day and I’ve already noticed that’s a constant mood of yours” Anna snaps back following him with Pierre right after her, leaving me, Kate and Tyler behind. "You look like you just saw a ghost" Tyler says getting my attention. "I'm just thinking why none of you bothered to tell me that your friend looked like that" I snap back, making Kate laugh. I decide not to mention the fact that I'm a hockey fan and know the NHL player that has just walked past us. "Nah, the minute he opens his mouth you'll see he's a dork" Kate says and heads to the area where the rest is. I follow her with Tyler right by my side and asking God to help me out here.

[mcheang]

See Justice in red

This is another Princess Justice fic draft I write with Justice sprinkling salt on Lila, Adrien, Alya, the faculty, and even the Mayor. I may refer to Princess Justice by either Princess or Justice.

“He was the one who betrayed me! He destroyed my trust in others!”- a line I vaguely recall from Unriddle 2 finale episode

Basically when Marinette becomes an akuma, she actually gets her revenge. Princess Justice is a warrior princess with a sword of truth. She uses that sword to skewer Lila. It won’t kill her by damaging her organs or blood loss, but it will force her to spew out the truth. It’s like the lasso of truth, and the longer you are under its control, the more likely you’re going to go mad.

It’s also like Thor’s hammer, only Marinette can lift and summon it.

What surprises Hawkmoth is how many powers Princess has. With Tikki powering Princess Justice, I think she’s like the Scarlet Witch, changing probability.

When Adrien and Alya try to convince Marinette this isn’t what she wants, that this isn’t her, she demands for them to shut up. Where were they when Lila had gotten her expelled? Did they know what it was like to be accused and see your friends turn their backs on you? I mean come on, Lila said Marinette pushed her and Marinette said she didn’t. Alya had 2 friends to believe, and she chose Lila’s. And they actually thought they knew her? And Adrien knew Lila was lying and only tried to help when Marinette asked him to. Some help he had been. And what kind of friend needs to be asked to help? (I admit the recent chapter from Scarlet Fever pointed this out to me.)

Sadly or not sadly, depending on whose POV it is, Princess Justice can only punish those who were wrong on a more...um official scale.

Being a bad friend just isn’t worth her akuma’s attention, like framing a student or expelling said student with stupid proof.

So Princess Justice just ignores her class...that doesn’t mean they are spared. They are in her line of fire and she doesn’t care about casualties.

And this happens via targeting the principal for not investigating properly. His punishment would be to see his heroic dreams reversed. Dark Owl would not be a hero. He would be a villain. Oh, and apparently Justice wants to destroy the school. If there are victims inside, bonus!

When Hawkmoth tries to stop her, Princess Justice breaks free from his control, using her probability powers to affect his own. Since he is a criminal, he is vulnerable to direct attacks. Hawkmoth is laid struggling against too many emotions and is overwhelmed. He can’t respond. Catalyst can’t help him with her current powers and is then wracked with her coughing fit and collapses.

Surprisingly one of Justice’s victims is Tom Dupain, while Sabine had been angry over the injustice, Tom had escaped being akumatized and seemed to accept his Daughter was guilty. He had been resigned, Marinette had seen it in his face. Tom was a casualty as Princess wrecked the school.

The rest of the akumas go wild as Hawkmoth is no longer in control. Dark Owl goes on a crime spree. Zombizou spreads love after all this salt. Reflekta changes people’s appearances. Princess Fragrance searches for Ali.

Justice’s next target is the mayor for abusing his power. Verity Queen follows as her backup.

Master Fu sees the news onscreen and goes to give out the Miraculous. Once the akumatized object has been destroyed, Marinette and Tikki will be free to transform and purify the akuma.

Princess Justice doesn’t target Fu because she feels he has faced punishment already. She doesn’t hate him like she hates the mayor.

The heroes assemble but fail in stopping Princess without their leader. and this is with them being defeated by indirect attacks and her without her primary weapon! (The Mayor was its latest victim.) It doesn’t help that most of the heroes had been indirectly injured in Justice’s rampage about the school.

Princess Justice collects all their Miraculous, sneering when she spots Adrien. Oh the irony. And she actually used to have a crush on him! Unbelievable.

Fu decides to pull his final ace. He goes to find young Alix. She is happy to get a Miraculous in spite of all the terror she faces.

Bunnyx is summoned and is advised not to go too far back or the future may still be lost.

The night before Lila’s accusation. Bunnyx visits Adrien while asleep and actually slaps him hard. She had heard that he knew Lila was lying and that he let her continue to lie to all of them. Alix sort of blames him too.

Seeing Plagg on the pillow, Alix learns his true identity.

Anyway, Bunnyx warns Adrien to expose Lila or doomsday will come next morning.

She also scolds him for letting Lila manipulate his friends like that. She also advises to actually be there for his friends instead of waiting to be noticed.

Adrien is stunned. What just happened?

Bunnyx returns to her home where her past self is sleeping. She finds the old watch and unifies both Miraculous together. Now the Alix sleeping has all of Bunnyx’s memories. And Bunnyx herself has vanished.

The next day, Adrien confesses the truth to his friends. Alix herself apologizes for not believing Marinette and promises to always be there for her.

When Marinette is accused of cheating, Adrien defends her and Alix points out that the answer sheet was only stolen after the test was taken.

Bustier’s accusation falls flat. She is embarrassed.

Lila isn’t about to give up though. She claims Marinette stole her necklace and she can prove it because she saw it in Marinette’s locker.

However, Alix points out again that the lockers are unlocked and that someone could be framing Marinette. The class isn’t sympathetic to Lila’s plight.

Realising that Alix has credibility since she is a neutral party and is willing to fight, Lila unhappily backs down. She hasn’t yet realized that Adrien exposed her and the class doesn’t trust her anymore.

Later during lunch, Alix joins Marinette for lunch and advises her to think beyond her crush for Adrien, and not to let him be the center of her life. Alix admires Marinette for standing up for truth and justice and hated seeing Marinette lowered when she obsesses over Adrien. She needs to see him clearly as a person and not someone on a pedestal. Her words strike Marinette deeply and make her thoughtful.

Adrien then talks to Alix alone. Adrien asks if she remembers anything from yesterday that was strange.

Alix crosses her arms. “Like when I slapped you awake, kitty?”

Adrien pales and begs her not to tell. Alix shrugs him off. “I won’t tell. I’m good at keeping secrets, like you apparently.”

Adrien flushes and apologizes again. Alix holds up a hand to shut him up. “We all make mistakes. I personally blame your silent act on your lousy dad. But try to think beyond the Lila’s and Chloe’s of the world and think how we have to put up with them because you keep letting them get away. And right now, you’re only acting up because I told you to. But Marinette deserves a better Friend than someone holding her down.” And then Alix storms off. Adrien is left alone feeling guilty.

Fu notices the missing Miraculous but encounters a young Alix who tells him the truth. Since it is a family heirloom, he lets her keep it. Reminding her to only use it when all hope is lost.

From that point on, Marinette tries to see Adrien differently and gently corrects him when he makes mistakes. Alix becomes her new BFF. Caline and Damocles undergo inspection when the school board receives an anonymous call saying their faculty is inefficient and biased. Adrien learns to stand up for himself, to tell Lila to back off, and sincerely apologizes to Marinette again. Alix is there, skeptical and there to ground Marinette. Alix and Adrien are friends but Adrien has to prove himself before Alix can really forgive him. He does so by using his civilian self as a shield for Marinette and Alix whenever Chloe or Lila attacks them. He actually stands up to his Father at personal risk, when Gabriel insinuates that his friends are a horrible influence, refusing to be shut down.

Now that Lila has been exposed, Gabriel fires her.

My salt for Adrien and Aly has been reignited today. Sure they defended Marinette in Despair Bear and tried to get her back into school. But couldn’t they have been more vocal when was being accused in the locker room? Alya was ignorant of Lila’s nature but Adrien was aware of it.

[alyona11]

Time (War) won’t keep us apart

Boom! Gallifrey Time War rant and my fears towards TW4! Taking care of those of you who don’t wanna read negative or ppl who only started Gallifrey and don’t wanna hear spoilers, I’ll keep the rant under the cut. Wanna say that I still love the series even if I rant about the latest boxsets. Saying hi to @gallifreyburning and to the collection server who were unlucky enough to hear my rant from the first hands.

So when I read the summary of TW4 yesterday, I undertood that my worst predictions might as well happen in the boxset. I really hope I misunderstood the synopsis of eps 1-2, but so far it looks like Leela and Narvin are both having a separate adventure in different eps. Which was initially what me and @gallifreyburning joked about. We were like “in the context of latest TW boxsets they’ll have Narvin and Leela in the same TARDIS, but they will barely have dialogues: instead Narvin would spend his all time with Reyo and the chickens”. AND NOW LOOK AT THE EP 2 SYNOPSIS. Mr. Finish, I will never make a joke about Gallifrey in my life again.

But seriously I find this whole Time War situation upsetting. It feels like BF don’t understand that people want to see the main characters, you know, together? Not for 1 episode out of 4. Judging by the summary, TW4 gonna have the same structure as TW3: 3 episodes of the characters apart (Leela’s adventure, Narvin’s adventure, Brax saving Romana adventure) and one BIG FINAL EPISODE OF THE 4 TOGETER THAT WE WAITED FOR. Which isn’t cool at all? Because it’s very little. I don’t think it’s possible to ensure a good ot4 dynamic with so little time. Let’s count: Brax was gone since TW1 ep2, Leela was gone since TW1 ep3, then returned, but imo the conflict with her and Narvin and Romana wasn’t solved in the end of TW3 (again, because of that 3 to 1 structure of the boxset, that gives little time for the characters to talk when they’re finally met). In addition to that Leela should be properly pissed off by Narvin letting Romana stay on Unity to face certain death, but I guess this thing can still play out in TW4. So the absence of these characters for such a big period of time should probably provoque some questions from other characters, There’re things they would want to discuss. But because of this structure it’s more possible that these subjects will open up between individual characters (Leela and Narvin, Brax and Romana).

I think that the separation of the main 4 (or 3, since Brax was sadly moved out of the main plan from s4) is the weakest point of Time War series. Even in the good old s1-6 it was a problem, like remember s5? Imo s5 didn’t work nearly as well as the other 5 because Leela and Romana (and Narvin as a grumpy bonus) barely been together. And Leela and Romana are the core of the show and it feels like the show lacks their dynamic drastically in TW arc. 

The funniest part that this separation is made for cheap drama. Like did you have any doubts Romana won’t come in TW4? I didn’t have any. I predicted that Leela would be out of the door in TW1, again for drama. TW3 could have ended with ot3 facing the daleks together, to be saved by Brax later (since it probably gonna happen to Romana anyway). But leaving Romana alone was more dramatic and sad I take it. You know, leaving her there so the ot4 would be collected in the last episode of the FINAL series. Instead of having the 4 together from the beginning.

Again judging by the synopsis, we’re gonna switch between ot4 and Rassilon and Co (aka Livia and Mantus). And here I’d unpack one of the problems that I have: secondary characters. Secondary characters in the TW series aren’t that interesting? I know Livia since EL (where she was actually pretty cool?) to TW2 + War Master Anti-Genesis (where she was idk weak imo), but do I know about her much? I don’t think so. Who is she? What are her goals? Her character traits? Idk really. Mantus? He’s just a s1 Narvin ver.2.0. but with less charm. I mean compare them to the characters from s1-3. It’s super easy to remember Darkel, Valyas, Mathias,Wynter and say what were they.They had their own character trains that made them unique in the setting. In my opinion, TW series created only one memorable character - Eris. We know who he is, his relationship with the main characters, his conflict and his goals. Which is one of the reasons I have problems with the ot4 interracting to the secondary OC instead of each other. I don’t believe the OCs gonna be interesting.

I had some other complaints, but I forgot already, cos this post is too long. Thanks if you happen to read it till the end.

[knovesstorytelling]

Murray Mysteries Transcripts S1E8

Episode 8. Worriers Worry

Written by May Toudic 

Mina: Welcome to Murray Mysteries.

[Theme music plays.]

Lucy: Hello everyone and welcome back! Today I am here with the amazing Dr. Jane Seward for yet another clinical hour.

Jane: That’s not why I’m here.

Lucy: Oh nonsense. I’m sure you have plenty of things to say to our wonderful audience.

Jane: Lucy, please. Art asked me to take a look at you.

Lucy: And you have! You came, you saw, you can tell them I’m fine.

Jane: I wouldn’t call that a proper examination.

Lucy: I thought you weren’t a medical doctor.

Jane: I’m not, that’s true, but Art said you wouldn’t see anyone else.

Lucy: That’s because I don’t want to waste a doctor’s time when I’m perfectly healthy! The NHS is dying, Jane. I refuse to contribute to its demise.

[Jane sighs.]

Jane: Alright, then at least talk to me. Two minutes, no deflecting. Only straight answers.

Lucy: I am not—

Jane: And no straight jokes, I’m serious Lucy. This is important. If nothing else, do it for Art. They’ll be much happier if they know you’re okay.

Lucy: Fine. Fine! Ask away, Scrooge.

Jane: How have you been sleeping lately?

Lucy: Honestly? Not great. I’m having some nightmares? Nothing really terrible. I can’t even remember them properly. But they do leave this vague feeling of fear when I wake up. It’s better when Art is staying over, or when I sleep in my Mum’s room.

Jane: Have you been doing that a lot?

Lucy: Just a couple of times. She’s not a fan of the idea. She’s still a bit ill and she thinks I’m doing it because I worry about her.

Jane: And do you?

Lucy: Yes. No? I don’t know. I’m sure she’ll get better, it’s not like she’d fading away. She’s just — not as well as I’d like.

Jane: Of course. Now, do you feel like your sleep troubles are affecting you during the day?

Lucy: Eh, no, not really.

Jane: Lucy.

Lucy: What?

Jane: You look terrible.

Lucy: Ouch! I thought you liked how I looked.

Jane: I— That’s— That’s not what I— You know that’s not what I meant, you— you’re always beautiful, but at the moment, well, you don’t look like yourself. That’s all I meant.

Lucy: Alright, so I guess I’m a little tired. My throat is achy and I’m paler than usual. But that’s not really, that’s nothing to worried about. A couple solid night’s sleep and I’ll be ready to roll again.

Jane: I don’t know Lucy. I’ve heard Mina’s podcast, there’s been something wrong for a while now.

Lucy: That was sleepwalking! That’s completely different.

Jane: And that hasn’t happened again?

Lucy: Not that I know of. No.

Jane: Right.

Lucy: So? What’s the verdict doctor, am I on the brink of death?

Jane: I think you’re suffering from symptoms of sleep deprivation, which itself is most likely caused by anxiety.

Lucy: I’m not anxious, that’s Mina’s thing.

Jane: Anyone can be anxious Lucy. And repressing it doesn’t make it go away, it just pushes it down, until it has no choice but to manifest through nightmares and insomnia. I’m going to prescribe you some sleeping aids, they should help you get back on your feet, but you can’t rely on them for too long, okay? I want you to look after your sleep hygiene, get some fresh air, and exercise during the day, go to bed at regular hours, avoid caffeine later in the day—

[Lucy stiffles a laugh.]

Lucy: So I have to be Mina?

Jane: You have to be reasonable.

Lucy: Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. 

Jane: Will you promise you’ll at least try?

Lucy: I solemnly swear to channel my best friend and her premature old lady-ness.

Jane: Thank you. Now, one of my old professors is visiting the area and I’d like to get a second opinion?

Lucy: Oh come on Jane. I really don’t think that’s necessary. I’m sure they have better things to do. Why don’t you take them on a tour of the town or something?

Jane: Professor Van Hellsing will be here in a professional capacity to help me with my research. I’m sure she won’t mind helping me with this too.

Lucy: Right, fine. But only because I’m curious about this Van Hellsing lady. She can examine me while I examine her.

Jane: Thank you. I promise it won’t drag on, I just want to be sure.

Lucy: Yeah, yeah. Now can we record your segment?

Jane: Are you sure you won’t go and lie down? You look…

Lucy: We’re not doing this again. I played along with your little interrogation, now it’s your turn.

Jane: I suppose that’s fair? I’ll play you my latest notes.

[A beep.]

Jane: R continues to be full of surprises. He had another outburst yesterday, but not at the time we’ve come to expect. It happened around noon. The attendant saw him get agitated and called me and a few other people for help. Good call, considering how violent the episode was. It took about four of us to restrain him. It didn’t last long, thankfully, only about five minutes before he got quiet again, but his screams upset a lot of the other residents, and we spent most of the afternoon on damage control. He’s been quiet since, as far as I can tell. I really have no idea what could cause such an irregular outburst.

[A beep.]

Jane: Later now. I checked on R around 5 pm and he seemed a lot happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. He was catching and eating flies again, and when he saw me come in, he immediately apologized for his behaviour yesterday. I’ve got to admit, I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I really was not expecting this. He seemed extremely lucid and asked if he could be transferred back to his old room. I didn’t see a problem, as we’ve had the window fixed, so he’s back there now. Still under increased surveillance though. I’ve tried to ask him about what happened in the past few days, it would be immensely helpful to get his point of view on the events. But no luck. All he said was that his master had deserted him and that he was going to have to do it himself. When I asked him what “it” was, he just changed the topic and asked me if he could have some sugar for the flies. Maybe I could try another approach. It really would be helpful to get insight into his thought process.

[A beep.]

Jane: Another episode from R. Different this time. I left the institution for a meeting this afternoon, came back as the sun was setting and R was standing at his window, yelling at the Sun. I could hear him from the street, he was definitely upset, but by the time I got in and to his room, the Sun had finished setting and he stopped yelling entirely. Then he took his box of flies and threw it away. I was surprised, considering how enthusiastic he was just yesterday. When I asked him about it, he said he was sick of it and didn’t want the flies anymore. It’s hard to stick to any potential diagnosis considering how often his behaviour changes. But today gave me an idea. I’m going to study the relationship between his outbursts and the position of the Sun. At noon a few days ago, then at sunset. It’s a long shot, maybe it’s a coincidence. I have to do more research. This isn’t something I’m familiar with. I’ll contact the university library, maybe ask Van Hellsing to bring some of her books with her. I hope I’m on the right track.

[A beep.]

Lucy: You are such a nerd.

Jane: I’m a clinical psychiatrist! It’s my duty to do as much research as necessary to properly diagnose my patient.

Lucy: Sounds like something a nerd would say. So you think this has something to do with the Sun?

Jane: I’m not certain of anything yet, but I think it’s a possibility. Think about it. His previous patterns also involved the Sun. He escaped at night, twice. Then he became calm at night but agitated during the day. This could all be related.

Lucy: And this professor of yours is going to help you figure it all out.

Jane: With luck, yes. Van Hellsing is the smartest woman I know. If anyone can help, it’s her.

Lucy: Colour me intrigued. Think we could get her on the show?

Jane: I…  um. I suppose you could ask.

Lucy: Awesome! You heard it here first, listeners. Stay tuned with some exclusives with the great professor Van Hellsing. Exciting stuff, don’t miss it!

[Credits music begins.]

Credits: Murray Mysteries is a Knoves Storytelling production. This episode was written by written and produced by May Toudic and featured Bebhinn Tankard as Dr. Jane Seward and Megan John as Lucy Westenra. Original music by Sophie K. Thank you for listening.

[abusybuzzingbee]

Pilot | Supernatural Season 1 Episode 1 Rewrite | Dean x Reader

A/N:::: Hello!! I am a royal dumbass and just accidentally deleted my whole tumblr. I was trying to get rid of my main account and accidentally got rid of it all!! So, this is bee from @abusybuzzingbee coming back at you with reuploads of my supernatural rewrites. So sorry to all of my supporters for my tomfoolery.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Major Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester

Warnings: Canon violence, language, Dean and the reader being assholes to each other, this is going to be the slowest burn that ever did burn, so buckle up!

Word Count: 7,643

Summary: The reader is a lonely young hunter on the road to Jericho, California where she bumps into two boys on the search for their father.

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Season 1 Masterlist

It was an early morning yesterday

I was up before the dawn.’

‘Funny how the sun’s just rising,’ you thought.

‘And I really have enjoyed my stay

But I must be moving on.’

The sound of the familiar tune of “Goodbye Stranger” coming from the radio of your new hijacked wheels-- a 2002 Toyota Camry, to be exact-- put a smile on your face.

‘Like a king without a castle

Like a queen without a throne

I’m an early morning lover

And I must be moving on.’

As you drove along a remote highway on the way to Jericho, California, you threw a glance to the wind lightly rustling the leaves of the trees outside of your driver’s side mirror.

‘Now I believe in what you say

Is the undisputed truth.’

Scenes such as this have always calmed you. The first beams of light stretching up from over the horizon, the vivid colors of the tree leaves, the hum of the radio of your newest car, and the sound of your tires gliding over the pavement. 

‘But I have to have things my own way

To keep me in my youth.’

These road trips in between hunts were the only taste you had ever had of a normal life. Not that you wanted a normal life, you think you would be too bored in the suburbs. However, it is comforting to have a small break from monsters while driving from place to place to relax.

‘Like a ship without an anchor

Like a slave without a chain

Just a thought of those sweet ladies

Sends a shiver through my veins.’

The latest case you had picked up on was the disappearance of several men on Centennial Highway in Jericho. 

‘And I will go on shining

Shining like brand new

I’ll never look behind me

My troubles will be few.’

The last disappearance had been some kid named Troy. Poor bastard.

You had very little knowledge of what you were walking into. You decided that you would head to the scene of the crime to try and get a better idea of what you were dealing with.

‘Goodbye stranger

It’s been nice

Hope you find your paradise

Tried to see your point of view

Hope your dreams will all come true.’

Just a few more hours and you’d be there.

‘Goodbye Mary, goodbye Jane--’

You turned the music up just a bit as you picked up your speed on the highway and thought about my last successful hunt in Alexandria, Louisiana. 

‘Will we ever meet again?’

You were proud of how you did on that hunt, but it was freeing to leave towns you had previously hunted in in your rearview mirror.

‘Feel no sorrow, feel no shame--’

It wasn’t a matter of feeling guilty about what you had done while you were in that town; you had nothing to feel guilty about. It just always hurt you to think of the sad faces of the people who had already lost family members before you got there to do your job.

‘Come tomorrow, feel no pain--’

There would always be that little bit of trauma that you carried with you because of all you had seen on hunts, but c’est la vie.

‘Sweet devotion (Goodbye, Mary)

It’s not for me (Goodbye, Jane).’

You let your mind go blank and get completely absorbed in the music as you continued to drive along.

‘Just give me motion (Will we ever)

To set me free (Meet again?)’

Music was the one constant in your life that kept you grounded. It was so powerful. Music could express so many feelings and bring those same emotions out of its listeners.

‘In the land and the ocean (Feel no sorrow)

Far away (Feel no shame)--’

You loved oldies music. From ‘70′s hippie music to ‘80′s rock, all the way back to Edith Piaf in the 1940′s. 

‘It’s the life I’ve chosen (Come tomorrow)

Every day (Feel no pain)’

You wished you had the time to sit down for long enough to learn to play an instrument. There was a whole list of things you wanted to learn to play including piano, guitar, ukelele, and drums. 

‘Maybe one day,’ you thought.

‘So goodbye, Mary (Goodbye, Mary)

Goodbye, Jane (Goodbye, Jane)

Will we ever (Will we ever)

Meet again? (Meet again?)’

**** 

A few hours later, you were parked on Sylvania Bridge in Jericho. You had stopped a few miles back at a gas station to change into an outfit that looked a little more professional than a pair of baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt and opted for one of the many police uniforms you carried around with you. This one was a federal marshal suit. Included the khakis, shirt with a little police badge on the pocket, and a belt with your fake badge on it. It was your mom’s. She threw herself into the many roles she played on the job and made sure she had the costumes to fit the part. Once she passed, you just couldn’t let them go.

You hopped out of the car and walked over to the scene of the crime. You noticed two boys that looked about my age talking to one of the deputies on site. You watched them flash badges to the deputy, but neither was in uniform. 

‘Oh, boy.’

"You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?” you heard the deputy remark as you walked up to them. 

“Thanks, that’s awfully kind of you,” the shorter guy laughed. 

'That’s my cue,’ you thought.

“Hiya, fellas,” you smiled brightly, glancing between the three of them.

The two guys turned back to look at you. The shorter one pointed at himself with a questioning look on his face directed at you. You eyed him, attempting to tell him to just go with it. 

“Why aren’t you two in uniform?” you asked, standing next to the taller boy and glancing between the two of them. You looked at the deputy. “Sorry to have them bothering you. New hires,” you lied, rolling your eyes. “I’m supposed to oversee how they handle this case.”

“Mm-hmm...” the deputy said, squinting at you. He was clearly suspicious.

I extended my right hand to the deputy and reached for my badge with the other. “I’m Agent Nicks, nice to meet you.” I showed him my badge.

“Deputy Jaffe.” He shook my hand and nodded at my badge.

“Man, you guys can’t catch a break. You just had another killing like this, right?” I nodded my head at Troy’s car at the center of the crime scene as I spoke. 

“Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that,” the deputy spoke as I walked over to the car, the two boys trailing behind me.

“So, this victim, you knew him?” The taller boy questioned.

The deputy nodded. “Town like this, everybody knows everybody.”

The shorter boy circled the car once and stopped between the taller boy and I. “Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?” he asked.

“No,” Jaffe answered, “Not so far as we can tell.”

“So what's the theory?” The taller guy asked.

“Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?”

“Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys,” the shorter guy quipped.

Your eyes widened as you watched the deputy’s incredulous expression. You didn’t like this kid already. You bit back a snicker when the dude who was with him stomped on his foot.

“Thank you for your time. Gentlemen,” the tall guy nodded.

You turned to follow your two “colleagues” away from the crime scene. The shorter guy smacked the taller one on the back of the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” 

“Why'd you have to step on my foot?”

“Why do you have to talk to the police like that?”

The two men realized you were following them and turned to look at you.

“Uh, can we help you?” the shorter one asked.

“No,” you replied. “I’ll be out of your hair in a second. I just think it’d be a little weird if I left the scene of the crime without regrouping with my ‘proteges’ first.”

The taller one nodded. It became clear to you he was the sensible one of the two.

“About that--” the shorter one came back, implying that you should explain yourself.

“Yeah, sorry for stepping all over your hunt.”

The two seemed in disbelief that you had figured out their secret.

“Takes one to know one,” You snickered. “I had to get the same information you two did, and it’d look really weird if two rounds of federal marshals came through for one case. I’m (Y/N), by the way.” You stuck out your hand for the two of them to shake.

The taller one took it first. “I’m Sam,” he smiled, “that’s my brother, Dean.” 

You shook Dean’s hand after Sam’s.

“You shake hands?” Dean asked.

You shrugged with a tilt of your head to the side.

“Weird.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well,” you sighed, “I got this hunt under control if you boys wanna hit the road.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, lady,” Dean started, “We were here first.”

“Geez, sorry. I thought I was doing you guys a favor by letting you hit the road.”

“Sorry,” Sam spoke for his brother, “We’re looking for our dad. The only information we have on where he could be is here, so we’ve got this covered.”

You nodded. “I hope you find him soon. Good meeting you two.” You turned to leave.

“Wait,” Sam called after you. “Three heads are better than two. We could use your help.”

Dean was quick to cut in. “No, no we do not--”

“What?” you asked, smirking. “You don’t like me Dean-o?”

He opened his mouth to respond, obviously trying to think of something to say. He came up blank after a few seconds.

You chuckled. “I’m down to help.”

Sam smiled brightly at you. “Great!” 

You glanced over Sam’s shoulder and your jaw clenched. Sam turned to follow your gaze.

The sheriff was talking to two FBI agents. He looked at you three pointedly. “Can I help you kids?”

“No, sir, we were just leaving,” Dean told him. He then nodded at the FBI agents as they walked past your trio. “Agent Mulder. Agent Scully.”

The three of you headed past the sheriff, whose gaze you could feel piercing through your back.

You noticed the 1967 Impala parked a little farther back than your car, wondering how you could have missed it when you pulled up to the scene.

“Aw, cool!” you exclaimed, quickly walking over to it. “Sweet ride.”  You ran your hand over the hood.

“Hey,” Dean called, “Hands off my baby.”

“You dating a car, Grumpy?” you smirked. 

He rolled his eyes at you. 

“Those your wheels over there?” Sam asked. He nodded towards your Camry.

“Unfortunately. Had to jack that car a few states back,” you responded.

Sam nodded. “You can catch a ride back with us if you want.”

Dean tossed a look at his brother.

“Cool, thanks,” you answered, smiling. “Let me just pull it off the road into some trees or something.”

***

"Who are we looking for again?” you asked the boys as you strolled around town. You had ditched your federal marshal getup and left it along with the rest of your stuff in the back of Dean’s car. 

Dean scoffed at your question.

“Hey, you didn’t answer the first time I asked, so I had to do it again,” you threw back.

“Troy’s girlfriend,” Sam answered.

“Thank you, Sam.” You threw a pointed look at Dean. He just turned his face away from you.

A few paces down from your pack, a young girl with brown hair was putting missing posters up with Troy’s face on them. 

"I'll bet you that's her,” Dean pointed out.

“Yeah,” Sam affirmed.

Your group walked up to her as Dean spoke, “You must be Amy.”

“Yeah,” she answered plainly.

“Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean, this is Sammy.”

“And who’s that?” Amy glanced at you.

“I’m (Y/N). A friend of theirs.”

Amy nodded, looking back to Sam and Dean. “He never mentioned you to me.” She began to walk away with her posters.

Dean was quick to follow her. “Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto.”

“So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around,” Sam continued for Dean.

A friend of Amy’s came up to her and asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

Once Amy responded with a simple, “Yeah,” her friend stayed with her.

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?” I asked Amy.

***

You, Amy’s friend, Rachel, and Amy were packed into one side of a diner booth while Sam and Dean sat opposite you.  

Amy spoke about what happened the night Troy went “missing.” “I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did.”

“He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?” Sam asked.

Amy shook her head. “No. Nothing I can remember.”

You glanced at the pentagram pendant she was wearing. “I like your necklace.”

“Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents with all that devil stuff,” Amy laughed. 

You smiled. “Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.” 

“Okay,” Dean cut in. “Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries.”

You rolled your eyes at him while he took his arm off of the back of Sam’s seat and leaned forward on his elbows. “Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything...” he trailed off, waiting for them to answer.

Amy and Rachel glanced between each other. 

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“Well, it's just,” Rachel began, “I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk."

“About?” You questioned turning a bit more inward to Rachel. 

“It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago,” Rachel stated.

You watched Rachel attentively, nodding.

“Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

You glanced at the boys with a quirked eyebrow.

***

Dean typed away on the library computer on the archive search page for the Jericho Herald. He had the words “Female Murder Hitchhiking" typed into the search bar. When he pressed enter, nothing came up. Dean replaced “Hitchhiking” with “Centennial Highway,” and once again, crickets. 

“Wait a minute,” Sam started, “So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied as if it was obvious.

“Well, maybe it’s not murder,” Sam stated.

“Ohhh,” you started, “I’m pickin’ up what you’re puttin’ down.” You knew Sam was thinking suicide.

Sam smiled at you.

“Let me try,” Sam told Dean.

“I got it,” Dean came back.

Sam shoved Dean out of the chair and took over.

“Dude!” Dean hit Sam on the shoulder. “You're such a control freak.”

You laughed at their banter.

“Can it, (Y/N),” Dean told you.

“So, what I can’t laugh?”

“No, no, you can’t.”

“I literally just met you and I’ve had it up to here--” you flattened your hand and put it up by your eyebrow, “--with you already--”

“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart,” Dean cut you off. 

“You two wanna stop?” Sam asked. “Come look at this.”

Just as you thought, Sam had put “suicide” in place of “murder” in the search bar.

Sam snapped you out of your thoughts by saying, “This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river.”

“Does it say why she did it?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” you started, leaning over Sam’s shoulder to get a better look at the screen, “An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently, her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die.”

Something about the situation did not sit right with you; it sounded familiar. 

Sam continued reading. “‘ 'Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch.’”

“The bridge look familiar to you?” Dean pointed out, looking at a picture of a man-- presumably Constance’s husband-- crying standing next to Sylvania Bridge.

“Well, we know where we’re headed,” you commented, walking toward the exit of the library. You could feel Dean’s eyes on you as you left.

***

By the time you finally got to Sylvania Bridge, it was late at night. You and the boys had stopped for a bite to eat before going back to the bridge. Troy’s car had long since been removed, the crime scene completely cleared out. 

Dean looked out over the edge of the bridge, standing next to you and Sam. “So this is where Constance took the swan dive.”

“So you think Dad would have been here?” Sam looked over at his brother.

"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him.” Dean continued down the bridge, the taller boy trailing behind him.

“Okay, so now what?”

“Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while.”

Sam stopped. “Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—”

The brunet stopped, turning around. “Monday. Right. The interview.” Aggravation was clear in his tone.

“Yeah.”

You thought it best to take a step back while they had this discussion.

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?” Dean’s tone got a bit more of an edge to it.

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam pushed back.

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?”

Sam stepped closer to Dean. “No, and she's not ever going to know.”

The older boy did not back down. “Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” He turned around and kept walking.

Sam followed him, his arms out in question. “And who's that?”

“You're one of us.” Dean gestured to himself and back to you staying several paces back,

Sam hurried to get in front of his brother. “No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

“You have a responsibility to—”

“To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.”

When Dean grabbed his brother by the collar and shoved him against the bridge, you jumped into action.

“Hey, knock it off, Dean.”

“(Y/N)--” Dean warned, giving you a sideways glare. He looked back at Sam. “Don't talk about her like that.” He let Sam go and walked away from him.

You hurried over to Sam. “You okay?” You put your hand on his shoulder and met his hazel eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Guys,” Dean called.

You looked to Dean who stared down to the railing at the edge of the bridge.

“Constance,” you let out, coming to stand next to Dean.

Constance looked back at your group before stepping off of the railing.

The three of you ran to the railing. 

“Where'd she go?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know, wanna jump down there and find out?” you sassed.

Dean glared at you as the sound of the Impala’s engine roared behind you.

The older Winchester flipped around. “What the—” 

Sam wheeled around, too. “Who's driving your car?” 

Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket and jingled them, his green eyes never leaving the Impala.

The car jerked into motion, barrelling over the bridge straight toward you and the Winchesters.

“Go! Go!” you yelled, turning and sprinting away.

Dean and Sam sped ahead of you, and you noticed the car gaining on you. Your heart raced and your breathing was labored. The car was way too close for comfort and left you with just one option.

You threw yourself over the railing, just barely managing to hang onto the edge of the bridge.

You heard the car engine stop just as something-- or someone-- hit the water.

You pulled yourself back over the railing and noticed Sam sitting on the railing calling for Dean.

You rushed over to Sam, leaning over the railing to try to find Dean.

He popped up a second later, his usually spikey hair flattened to his head with mud. In fact, his whole body was covered in mud.

“You okay?” You called down to him.

Dean sarcastically held up a thumb and pursed his lips. 

“Hey, I’m just checking on you, don’t be an ass,” you yelled back, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Fuck off,” he grunted, annoyed.

Sam laughed and got back onto the bridge.

You headed over to the Impala and checked it over, grabbing a towel out of your bag.

Dean had managed to climb back onto the bridge and made his way over to his baby. He opened the car’s hood and poked around to see if Constance had damaged it at all. After a moment, he shut the hood and leaned on it.

“Your car all right?” you heard Sam ask are you walked over to Dean with the towel.

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now. That Constance chick, what a bitch!” He yelled at the spirit. 

You put the towel on Dean’s head and started to dry his hair off when he jerked away from you.

“What are you doing?”

You were quick to put the towel back on his head. “Helping.”

The dirty blond ripped the towel out of your hands. “I got it.”

“Fine.” You raised your hands up in surrender. You leaned against the car next to Dean. “You know, I been thinkin’.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Shut up, Dean. I’m serious.” You paused, taking in a breath. “Constance is a woman in white.”

Sam pursed his lips, shrugging. “Makes sense. I mean, the dead kids, suicide, killing unfaithful men.”

“Maybe.” The older Winchester’s monotone voice was followed by silence. A silence that was broken a few moments later by Sam.

“You smell like a toilet.”

You scrunched up your nose and giggled. 

“Can it, (Y/N).”

***

“You guys having a reunion or something?” the clerk asked, looking at the credit card Dean had placed on the motel’s front desk.

Sam cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month.”

Dean looked over to his brother briefly and then turns his head back to the clerk. “What room’s he in?”

“Listen, kid, I can’t go around giving out people’s room numbers.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

You stepped out from behind the two boys. “Oh, please sir? He’s family, and we haven’t seen him in a while.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.”

***

“That how you get all the guys?”

“What?” you asked, not bothering to face Dean to answer his question. The two of you were stationed outside of John Winchester's room playing lookout while Sam picked the lock on the door.

“You know what I mean. I saw you makin’ eyes at the clerk.”

“Yeah, to get a room number.” You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. It worked real well.” He turned to face you.

“You know, you don’t have to be such a dick all the time. I met you yesterday and have given you no reason not to like me. What’s your deal?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, my plate is kind of full. I’m trying to figure out what the hell happened to my dad. I have no idea whether he’s alive, dead, or captured, and he’s the only parent I have left. And my little brother is solely concerned about getting back to fucking Stanford, and I’m not even sure he cares about what happened to our dad. And now, enter (Y/N) trying to take over a hunt that is the only tie I have to my dad.” Dean’s face was incredibly close to yours.

Sam had long since gone into the room and decided to leave the two of you alone to hash out your frustrations.

You held your ground, but your voice took on less of an angry tone. You were strictly playing defense at this point. “But I wasn’t trying to take it over to be mean, and as soon as you got so defensive about the hunt, I backed down and just offered to help--”

“Yeah, and I didn't want your help. Sam was the one who let you in, probably hoping that if you were here he could shag ass back to Stanford. So forgive me if I’m a little on edge.” He pulled his face away from yours, wheeling around to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“Well, I’m sorry for being such an inconvenience. Perhaps you’ve forgotten the fact that I’ve helped you guys more than I’ve hurt you. I pulled your asses out of a crack when you were talking to the police. I was the one who figured out what kind of a spook we’re dealing with here. I want you to find your dad. I really do. But I also want you to stop being so awful to me. And it’s just me specifically!” You threw your arms up in the air. At some point during the first part of your rant, Dean had looked back at you over his shoulder. “You’re so nice to Sam--I mean, about as nice as brothers are to each other-- and I can tell you care about him. I can tell you have a good heart. So why choose to be an ass?”

When Dean didn’t answer, you shook your head. “Whatever. I’m leaving.” You clutched your duffel bag strap on your shoulder tightly, your knuckles turning white.

“To go where?”

“Away. You win. Ya got what you wanted.”

“Wait, (Y/N)--”

“Tell Sam I said ‘bye.’”

***

The heat of midday had your baby hairs stuck to your head with sweat. You had been walking for a while now, just trying to find somewhere remote enough that you could steal a car without getting seen. 

You hiked along a highway surrounded by dense trees, the rustling sound of the green leaves filling your head. You took a deep breath, allowing peace to wash over you. You never had to see Dean Winchester again, although you would miss Sam. He was the closest thing to a friend you’ve had in a while. 

A familiar engine roar overpowered the sound of the rustling you had been hearing. The car pulled off of the highway just behind you, coming to a stop. 

You took your bottom lip in your mouth under your top one, closing your eyes and stopping your walk.

You heard the opening and closing of the car’s door as you turned around, a small smile on your lips.

“You know,” Sam started, walking toward you, “It’s kind of rude to leave without saying ‘goodbye.’“ 

You let out a laugh. “Hey, Sam.”

He pulled you into a quick hug. “Hey. I heard what happened.”

You looked down at the mixture of grass and gravel below your combat boots. “Yeah.”

“And I know you probably never wanna see Dean’s face again, but we need your help. I do, and he does, whether he wants to admit it or not. We can all get out of here a lot quicker if we work together. You can get away from Dean, I can get back to Stanford, and Dean can find our dad.”

“Where is Dean?”

“Arrested.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, nodding.  “Okay.” You put on a smile. “What now?”

***

Much later in the day, after going to visit Joseph Welch, you and Sam were sitting in a diner grabbing a bite to eat. The both of you were brainstorming what to do to get Dean out of jail and what to do about that Constance bitch. The conversation had shifted from those two topics once you had a solid plan to simply small talk between friends.

“So what’s your story?” you asked, taking a bite out of one of your fries.

“What?”

“I picked up from conversations between you and Dean over the past two days and the very loud conversation I had with your brother earlier that you left hunting to go to Stanford. What happened there?”

Sam chuckled, looking down. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. I crossed a line,” you told him sincerely. You stared at your ketchup. 

“No, no,” he responded. He took in a sharp breath. “My dad and I had a big blowout fight before I left for college. He told me if I left for college to never come back. Haven’t talked to him in two years.” He took a bite of his salad after he finished talking.

“Oh,” you said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

You decided to change the subject. “Alright, we’ve let Dean rot long enough. I’m gonna go call the police.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll get the check.” 

You walked outside of the diner, heading to the payphone you spotted at the entrance of the parking lot. You picked it up and dialed ‘9-1-1.’

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

You made your voice frantic, forcing tears to well up in your eyes. “My-My husband! He’s been shot!”

“Ma’am, calm down for me, okay? Where are you?”

You screamed. “He- He just shot another guy! Oh, my god!”

“Ma’am, where are you?”

“I’m on Whiteford Road,” you said. “Please, please, please hurry!”

“Okay, okay, um, w-we’re sending a unit out to you now. Can you stay on the line for me?”

“No, no! Please!” you cried. “Plea--” You cut yourself off and hung up the phone. 

You noticed Sam standing next to you using one of his forearms to hold the door open as he leaned on the door frame. 

“What?”

“That was damn good acting,” he noted.

“Thanks,” you chuckled. “I actually wanted to be an actress growing up.”

“Hunting got in the way,” Sam figured.

“Exactly. But, acting is kind of part of the job. Gotta be real good at lying and pretending to be feds,” you shrugged, making light of the situation.

A comfortable silence blanketed you and Sam as you lamented over what life could’ve been for you. You sucked in a breath and said, “We better get going. To Constance!”

***

Sam’s phone ringing pulled the two of you out of a conversation about his girlfriend, Jess, and his life at Stanford. 

Sam looked at the caller ID, shrugging at you when he didn’t recognize it.

“Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal,” you could hear Dean jest through the phone.

The brunet grinned. “It was (Y/N), actually.”

He paused. “(Y/N)? She’s with you?”

You took Sam’s phone out of his hands and said, “Yup. Hi, Dean,” into the receiver. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You gave the phone back to Sam. 

The older Winchester changed the topic from you to something else. “Listen, we gotta talk.” 

“Tell me about it,” Sam jumped in. “So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop--”

His brother tried to cut him off. “Sammy, would you shut up for a second?”

“--I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet.”

“Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho.”

Sam threw a look to you before glancing back to the road. “What? How do you know?”

“I've got his journal,” you heard the dirty blond explain.

“He doesn't go anywhere without that thing.”

“Yeah, well, he did this time.”

“What's it say?”

“Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going.”

‘Ex-Marine crap?’ you thought to yourself.

Sam noticed your puzzled expression and directed toward you, “Coordinates.” He spoke his following words to Dean. “Where to?”

“I'm not sure yet.”

You propped your head up on your elbow on the passenger’s side door, legs tossed in an ‘L’ shape on the seat beside you. You stared out of the window into the dark night, taking in the gloomy appearance of the dead trees and fallen leaves. 

The younger Winchester shook his head. “I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job?”

A figure in the road caught your eye, causing you to squint and look out the windshield. 

Sam was still rambling to his brother. “Dean, what the hell is going on?”

You registered that Constance was in the road. “Sam, look out!” you shrieked.

Sam looked up, dropping the phone and slamming the brakes hard. You had to brace yourself on the dashboard in front of you, your body jerking forward and backward in your seat. 

Constance was gone, and you and Sam tried to catch your breaths. 

“Sam? Sam!” Dean’s voice came through the phone.

You picked up the phone from under the glove box. Dean had hung up before you got the chance to tell him Sam was alright.

You turned to the brunet, who swallowed hard and looked into the backseat through the rearview mirror.

You whirled around to look in the backseat, and there Constance was. “Take me home,” she ordered. She looked directly at you. “Take me home!”

“No,” you stated firmly, holding her gaze. 

Constance glared back at you as you heard the doors of the car lock. You wheel around in your seat and try to reopen them. Suddenly, your body was thrust back into the seat as the car began to drive. 

“Sam?” you yelled over the roar of the engine.

“That’s not me!” He tried to grab the steering wheel to drive, but Constance wouldn’t let him. 

You continued to struggle with the doors until the two-- well, three, counting Constance-- of you pulled up to an abandoned house, presumably the Welches’ old house. The windows on both of the two floors had been covered with boards, the paint was peeling off of the wood slats, and the screen door had been ripped. The house looked like it was falling apart more and more with every passing day. It had the stereotypical appearance of a horror movie house.

The engine of the Impala shut off.

“Don't do this,” the younger Winchester pleaded.

Constance flickered in the backseat. “I can never go home,” she moaned, her voice sad.

As if a switch had been flipped in your brain, your face shifted from scared to enlightened. “You're scared to go home.” You turned to look in the back seat, but Constance was gone. As soon as you turned back around, you noticed Constance in between you and Sam on the leather bench seat. 

You jumped, back pressed against the passenger’s side door. Constance climbed on Sam’s lap, shoving him back against the seat hard enough to tilt it backward. 

You tried to lunge for Constance, but she shoved you against the Impala’s door hard enough with a flick of her wrist to send the door flying open and you sailing through the air.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Sam yell.

You skidded to a halt on the rocky gravel surrounding the house, feeling your arms and legs get cut up. The wind was knocked out of you, and your head bounced against the small rocks. 

“Ow,” you groaned, trying to get up. You saw Constance had closed the passenger’s side door once more, and through the window could see her kissing Sam as he reached for the keys.

Another thing you saw was a figure appearing on the other side of the car through the driver’s side window. You hoped to god it was Dean.

You heard whoever it was fire a shot as Sam screamed in what seemed to be pain, so you immediately ducked. A few more shots were fired and you felt safe enough to raise your head.

You scrambled to your feet when you saw the Impala go careening through the porch and into the old Welch house. You ran into the house, being as careful as you could to avoid any of the broken pieces of wood and furniture the car had left in its path.

Dean was quick to follow you, calling out to his younger brother. “You okay?”

Sam groaned. “I think...”

“Can you move?” you asked, leaning through the passenger’s window. You looked him over for serious injury.

“Yeah,” he told you. He reached a hand out to his brother. “Help me?”

You stepped to the side as Dean pulled Sam out through the rolled-down window. 

You noticed Constance picking up a picture frame of her and her children that had fallen to the ground. 

She turned her attention from the picture to you and met your eyes.

She pinned you and the boys against the Impala with a bureau. It hit the boys in their pelvis but nailed you right in the stomach. You groaned in pain, desperately trying to push it off of you. 

You stopped your struggle when a sound caught your ear. It sounded like liquid trickling and watched as a stream of water just thick enough to cover each step cascaded to the ground.  You followed the stream to the top of the stairs to see the dark silhouettes of a little girl and a little boy holding hands.

“You've come home to us, Mommy,” they spoke in chorus.

Constance looked distraught as she got closer to the stairs. They were suddenly gone from the stairs and appeared behind her, hugging her and looking up at her with warm yet slightly disturbing smiles. 

Constance screamed, and she and her children melted to the floor flickering between apparitions of skinless and skeletal forms of humans. They melted into a puddle of an electric purple goo that seeped through the floorboards as the ringing in your ears from Constance’s shrieks subsided. 

You and the Winchesters shoved the bureau over, and you dusted off your hands as Dean spoke.

“So this is where she drowned her kids.”

“That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them,” Sam told you and his brother.

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” Dean slapped him on the chest where holes had been burned through his shirt that you were assumed were the products of Constance. Sam groaned out in pain but laughed nonetheless.

“Actually, it was all (Y/N). I’m just the jackass who drove your car through the side of a house,” Sam smiled, jutting his thumb back at you.

Dean hummed as he continued to walk away, clearly disinterested but making an effort to sound impressed. He leaned on the open window of the passenger’s side door, looking over his baby. “Speaking of that, if you screwed up my car--” he paused, looking back at Sam, “--I’ll kill you.”

“Aw, shame,” you cut in, “Sam’s my favorite Winchester.”

Dean glared at you. “Can it, (Y/N).”

***

You lip-synced the words to AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” which boomed through the speakers of the Impala. You were sat in the backseat, leaning on the front seat between the two Winchesters with your forearms atop their bench seat. You looked over Sam’s shoulder as he opened up a giant map and opened his dad’s journal. He went to tuck a flashlight under his chin so he could actually see what he was doing, but you stopped him.

“I can hold that for you.”

“Thanks,” was his short reply as he handed off the flashlight to you, his eyes never leaving the things on his lap. You clicked the flashlight on and held it over his shoulder as he scanned the map for the coordinates “35-111″ as was written in his dad’s journal.

Sam tapped the spot on the map once he found it. “Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.”

“Charming,” you quipped.

“How far?” came Dean’s question.

“About six hundred miles,” the younger Winchester told his brother.

“Hey, if we shag ass after we drop (Y/N) off in the next town over we could make it by morning,” Dean suggested, looking over at Sam. 

‘This guy is so ready to get rid of me,’ you thought, shaking your head.

Sam cocked his head to the side and looked to his brother. “Dean--”

Dean stared back to the road, his pitch dropping lower and his disappointment apparent. “You're not going.”

“The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there,” Sam reminded him.

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home.”

You clicked the flashlight off, sinking back into the backseat. 

‘Awkward.’

***

Dean’s face was still set in a frown as the Impala pulled up to Sam’s apartment complex. You jumped out of the car as Sam did, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” you told him, squeezing him harder with your eyes shut. You were genuinely disappointed. Sam was so nice and the two of you had become great friends very quickly.

“Hey, you have my number. Call me.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same.” You pulled away from him. “Say ‘hi’ to Jess for me.”

The brunet chuckled. “I will.” He leaned down into the open window of Dean’s car. “Call me if you find him?”

Dean nodded. 

“And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?”

“Yeah, all right.”

Sam clearly did not know how to end the conversation from there, so he simply patted the inside of the car door twice and turned away. Dean leaned toward the passenger door, calling out to Sam in one last attempt to get him to come with him. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there.” 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, which was clearly not the reaction Dean was expecting. He just sighed and waited for you to get back in the car. You had barely shut the door before Dean shoved off. 

You jerked around in your seat. “Easy, tiger. Jesus.” You slumped down in your seat after getting no response from Dean. You crossed your arms and looked out of your window. 

The familiar smells of coconut and tobacco filled your nose, and you immediately straightened up. 

“Turn around,” you told Dean, your eyes wide.

“What? No,” he snorted. “Why?”

“Just do it!”

Your exclamation caught Dean off guard. “Jesus, fine.”

He put the car in reverse and headed back up the street. 

Dean hadn’t even stopped in front of Sam’s apartment complex before you threw the car door open and sprinted toward the apartment as fast as you could.

“Whoa, crazy lady, where are you going?” Dean caught up to you and grabbed your arm, spinning you around. 

“Sam’s apartment. Which one is it?!” You asked in a panic. 

“Uh--” He glanced away from you, still puzzled as to why you were a basketcase at the present moment.

“Dean!”

He looked back at you, shaking his head, but he ran up the stairs and led you to Sam and Jess’s shared apartment. 

He stopped in front of the door, turning back to face you. “Now, why--”

Before he could finish his statement, you used all your might to kick the wooden door in, yelling Sam’s name in concern.

“No!” you heard him yell from another room.

Dean jumped into action, sprinting through the apartment with you hot on his heels. The two of you got to the younger Winchester’s bedroom just in time to see a woman in a white nightgown stained red at her belly from bleeding with blonde hair on the ceiling burst into flames. 

“Jess!” Sam yelled, paralyzed on his bed in shock. He quickly moved one arm to shield his face as the flames got closer to him. “No!”

‘Oh, shit. His girlfriend...’

You shook your thoughts away from you and helped Dean lug a screaming Sam out of the door and out of the apartment complex. You fished through your bag in Dean’s car for your phone and called the fire department as Dean tried to hold Sam back from going back in for his charred girlfriend.

***

Flashes of red and blue broke through the black of night, emanating from police cars and firetrucks all around you. You walked through the chaotic scene of police and firemen holding back onlookers and firemen dousing the remaining embers of the fire in water. Black, charred wood stuck out from the turquoise exterior of the complex, and you could see into the apartment through giant holes that had been burnt out of the wall. 

You walked back over to the boys who stood by the Impala. Sam was fooling with weapons concealed within the hollowed-out bottom of the trunk, and Dean stood next to him, watching his brother’s face. As you got to them, you put a hand on Sam’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He looked up at you, his normally soft and cheery expression suppressed by a look of both desperation and anger. He shut the trunk with a hard slam.

“We got work to do.”

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[letterboxd]

Chameleon.

For Japanuary, J-horror auteur Kiyoshi Kurosawa talks to Aaron Yap about upending genre expectations with his dreamy new travelogue To the Ends of the Earth, the unconscious connections between his films, and how it’s time for a proper evaluation of Robert Zemeckis.

Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s continued, uncontested position as a horror auteur isn’t unjustified. Emerging as a key voice in the J-horror boom of the late ’90s, Kurosawa hypnotized us with his chilly, haunting, atmospheric—and often apocalyptically tinged—visions of baffling serial killers, ghosts in machines, insidious doppelgangers and vengeful apparitions.

Bong Joon-ho once called Kurosawa’s 1997 mind-bender Cure one of the greatest films ever made. Pulse, his terrifyingly prophetic 2001 film, for my money—and many Letterboxd members’—might still be the creepiest of all contemporary horrors. “It is the only film I’ve ever seen in which every single shot feels genuinely haunted,” writes Connor.

Rarely behaving in a traditional scary-movie fashion, Kurosawa’s idiosyncratic horror films often test our expectations of genre, then deliver beyond those boundaries to probe his recurring themes: identity and isolation, humanity’s relationship to technology and nature, and deep-seated anxieties that nibble away at society’s crumbling fabric. Pulse, besides being an exercise in deftly crafted dread, is a great, telling, melancholy movie about the overwhelming loneliness of the digital age.

Yoko (Atsuko Maeda) and her travel show crew in ‘To the Ends of the Earth’.

However, the general focus on his horror “side” tends to eclipse a filmography that’s far richer and more versatile than he’s usually given credit for. Over the past two decades, we’ve seen him seem forge a thrillingly chameleonic, unpredictable path that’s included an ecological thriller (Charisma), an Ozu-esque family drama (Tokyo Sonata), a metaphysical romance (Journey to the Shore) and an alien invasion sci-fi (Before We Vanish). No one is really doing it like Kurosawa, and To the Ends of the Earth is arguably his most exciting and enigmatic left-turn yet.

To the Ends of the Earth is a commissioned piece to celebrate the diplomatic relations between Japan and the Central Asian republic of Uzbekistan, but that doesn’t diminish that it’s unmistakably a Kiyoshi Kurosawa film, not a tossed-off, exoticized, postcard-pretty travelogue. His signature languorous pacing, shrewdly slippery tonal calibration, and acute spatial sensitivity are at full bore, servicing a loosely plotted tale of TV travel show host Yoko (former J-pop singer Atsuko Maeda) and her crew attempting to complete shooting an episode in the Uzbekistan capital of Tashkent.

If anything, this movie should really confirm him as a filmmaker of bold, fictive playfulness in a comparable register to Jacques Rivette, Olivier Assayas and Christian Petzold—something that 2013’s hour-long, similarly fish-out-of-water head-rush Seventh Code, also starring Maeda, hinted at. In To the Ends of the Earth, gentleness, compassion and dream-like bursts of song and fantasy percolate through a disquieting maze of displacement—cultural, artistic, gendered—and the result is an adventurous, unpindownable, thoroughly humanistic work of curiosity and imagination.

Some years ago you did a “double feature”-themed interview with the Belfort Entrevues Film Festival where you revealed the sources of inspiration for some of your films. What film, if any, was a chief influence for To the Ends of the Earth, and can you tell us in what way? Kiyoshi Kurosawa: When I make my work, I often consciously refer to films from the past, but that’s usually the case with genre films. For example, Cure was greatly inspired by The Silence of the Lambs. However, To the Ends of the Earth is not a genre movie, so I wasn’t consciously thinking of any specific films. However, the composition of the story, that the main character appears in every scene, is based on films by the Dardenne brothers. Viewing their films The Child and Two Days, One Night, it’s clear to see how the depiction of just one person can turn trivial incidents into something serious and suspenseful.

Atsuko Maeda and Kiyoshi Kurosawa on the set of ‘To the Ends of the Earth’.

Watching Bright Future, To the Ends of the Earth and Creepy back-to-back recently, I noticed several parallels and motifs which may or may not be intentional. For example, a jellyfish makes an appearance in a scene on TV in Creepy, or there’s a TV report of a blaze in To the Ends of the Earth that momentarily hints at a bigger natural catastrophe that echoes the jellyfish swarm in Bright Future, or other apocalyptic moments in your films like Charisma and Before We Vanish. Do you find that some of these motifs work on a subconscious level for you, or were some of them intentionally threaded in? It’s a very interesting point. Some of them were intentional and some were not at all. It’s true about jellyfish, they appear in both Bright Future and Creepy. However, this is the first time I’ve noticed. The endings of Charisma and Before We Vanish were already written in the script by necessity, so of course, it’s intentional. The depiction of the blaze on TV in To the Ends of the Earth was introduced to show something happening in Japan while the main character is taking a small adventure in Uzbekistan. I wanted to show that her boyfriend was in some kind of crisis there. While the fire on the TV is merely an accident, it does appear apocalyptic. I may have overdone that a bit. Perhaps some kind of unconscious thinking was at work.

That amusement park ride scene in To the Ends of the Earth has stayed with me in the way it suggests terror out of something seemingly mundane. What are some scenes from other films that have stayed with you? The amusement park ride scene wasn’t introduced to express terror. What I wanted to show was how crazy the assignment is and Yuko’s professionalism. She takes on the assignment without fear. This may have been a bit overdone as well. However, I thought that Atsuko Maeda, who didn’t hesitate to actually ride it three times, was a real professional. Apart from that, if I think about the movies that force people to experience horror, what comes to me are Roger Corman’s Pit and the Pendulum. Tobe Hooper’s The Funhouse, George Miller’s Mad Max: Fury Road. I also remembered the episode in Freddie Francis’s Torture Garden, where a grand piano has a will to kill people, which was great.

Your films tend to be very location-based; environments and spaces appear to play a significant part. The pandemic has been the ultimate test of our relationship with spaces and each other. How has the pandemic impacted you as a filmmaker, and are there themes and ideas that you are interested in exploring further as a result of Covid? As you pointed out, when I make a movie, I pay great attention to the location. The moment I find a good location, I feel that the script will be transformed into a movie. It is the moment when fiction and reality are fused. It’s hard to say anything though, I haven’t made a movie since the pandemic started. What I can say, at least, is that sitting in front of the computer at home is not cinematic at all. So far, I don’t feel that something new will be born from it. What should I do? After all, I feel that a movie can only be made by going out in the city with a camera after utilizing the best epidemic prevention system possible.

If you had to pick a film that’s a personal favorite, which would you pick, and why? It's too difficult a question. Japanese movies and foreign movies have different viewpoints. Also, there are completely different categories of movies [that] greatly influence me when I make films and the movies I saw when I was young that make me nostalgic. It’s impossible to choose just one. But, well, the one that comes to mind is Sam Peckinpah’s The Ballad of Cable Hogue, which is both nostalgic and heavily influential for me.

You’ve spoken about your fondness for American filmmakers like Tobe Hooper, Robert Aldrich, Steven Spielberg et al. Are there new, or more recent American filmmakers and films that have caught your attention or that you’re particularly excited by? I don’t know much about young American directors, but what I always care about is Alfonso Cuarón. Of course he is not a new, young filmmaker, but an auteur. Also, since this is a good opportunity, I’d like to mention Robert Zemeckis. He made such masterpieces as Cast Away and What Lies Beneath around 2000. For some reason, he has never been properly evaluated at all. For a time he was devoted to animation. However, he made a spectacular return to live-action films with Flight and continues to shoot unique masterpieces like Allied and Welcome to Marwen. Of course, not many people appreciate these works. However, he does not seem to care about public opinion at all and continues to boldly shoot new works. Perhaps Zemeckis is the American film director who makes the most authentic films today.

What are your movie-watching habits like? Do you continue to watch movies on physical media or prefer streaming these days? What was the last movie you saw in a theater? Basically, I like to watch movies at an ordinary movie theater in the city the most. When I can’t go to the movie theater, or even though I know the film is going to be boring but I have to watch a movie for business, I have no choice but to watch it on DVD or Blu-ray. Of course, I also use VOD once in a while. The last movie I saw in the theater, as of today, was the Japanese film The Voice in the Crime. I saw that just yesterday. I saw it with my wife at a cinema complex in Shinjuku, Tokyo. It was the latest work by the director who made the previous masterpiece Flying Colors, and I expected much from it. It was speedy and quite well done until the middle of the film, but by the ending, it was too boring. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a good movie.

What’s a memorable film-related moment from your childhood, perhaps something you experienced with family or friends, or a film that scared you or made you cry? The movies that my generation often watched growing up were mainly monster movies. The most unforgettable one was Matango. Like Godzilla and Mothra, it was directed by Ishirō Honda. I went to see this movie with my friends. It had a rather cute touch in the promotional materials depicting a mushroom with a monstrous appearance. However, the content was completely different from a normal monster movie. Shipwrecked survivors on an uninhabited island encounter monstrous mushroom creatures washed up on the shore. These are not unknown creatures such as Godzilla or Mothra, but the horrifying ending of a human being. The characters are being infected, changing one another into mushroom humans. All of us children trembled from the bottom of our hearts. In retrospect, the work is an extreme horror aiming along the same line as [Howard Hawks and] Christian Nyby’s The Thing from Another World. It was probably the first time I encountered horror which was not “to escape from destruction” but “when a human being becomes something not human”.

Is there a filmmaker or film you think about a lot that you don’t get to talk about much and would like to show some appreciation? I haven’t talked much about the Battles Without Honor and Humanity series directed by Kinji Fukasaku. I don’t know how well this series of Japanese movies is known abroad, but when I was a high-school student I saw this and quickly became a big fan. I’ve watched a variety of yakuza movies since then, and it’s safe to say that nothing beats this series. As the title suggests, the films depict a yakuza world without “Jingi” (yakuza’s moral code), and it was really humorous and exciting to see the betrayals and the destruction. After I saw this, all those traditional yakuza movies dominated by the strange ideology of “Jingi” looked like a childish fantasy.

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‘To the Ends of the Earth’ is available for rental in the US via distributor KimStim. From February 5-25, Japan Society’s virtual cinema hosts ‘21st Century Japan: Films from 2001-2020’, featuring films from Hirokazu Kore-eda, Naomi Kawase and Takashi Miike, the online US premieres of Sion Sono’s ‘Red Post on Escher Street’ and Yukiko Mishima’s ‘Shape of Red’, plus a special focus on Kiyoshi Kurosawa (‘Bright Future’, ‘Journey to the Shore’, ‘Real’).

[gra-sonas]

Thoughts about the latest interview? Just as you think Malex is slowly coming back, an interview comes out with Michael saying they are over right now... I kinda wish they wouldnt do any interviews because I end up, once again, not wanting the watch the show.

Ngl, the interviews leading up to S2 are the reason why I’m not watching this season, and this is a reminder that I’ve made the right decision for myself. I won’t catch up on the show until I know for sure that this is over for good (I’m on day 345 of the hiatus and let me tell you, it sucks...)

The interview is a good example of ‘be careful what you wish for’. Just yesterday I lamented that they should do more interviews (although I specifically asked for a Tyler or Trevino interview 🤨) and BOOM, there’s a new interview, and I’m like

Anyway, There’s nothing new or unexpected in this interview, this has been Vlamis’s tune for a year or so. It’s just another reminder that it’s not over yet...

So far pretty much every interview about this triangle’s either been with Carina  or Vlamis. Have we heard Heather talk about it apart from this?

I don’t think we have. And we’ve only heard from Tyler (not in great detail tho) at NYCC, when they were filming episode 5 and he very likely had no idea how the season would end for Malex.

Not a single interviewer’s asked about the way Maria acted yet, neither’s anyone ever asked about how Alex feels. Alex and Maria are part of the triangle, but they don’t actually matter. The sole focus (on the show and in interviews) is Michael. Which probably makes sense since he’s one of the 4 main characters, but Alex and Maria are secondary main characters, and it’s rather disheartening that they don’t matter more (on the show and in interviews)

Alas, I’m just going to ignore the interview and think about this moment.

Because if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that they are definitely not done. Far from it. There’s just a lot of DNW we have to endure before that will happen.

So hang in there, nonnie, deeeeeep breaths, we’ll make it through this together! ヽ(ˇっˇ)ノ❤️

[fandom-necromancer]

616. Aren’t you tired of this?

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: reverse AU

'Gavin, could you fetch me a coffee?' 'Could you fetch me all the phcks I don't give?' 'Ugh, fine, forget it.' Richard was tired. The last few days had been hard, long work hours, less sleep than recommended and barely any free time. He had worked through breaks and had extended his shift far beyond the covered time. This plus the headache that had started to become his constant companion was just the worst combination and Richard held it in high regards he hadn't lost his temper and lashed out yet. The last of these episodes had ended up in him beating the shit out of a suspect followed by a suspension he had hated but realised had needed dearly.

Maybe he was too tired for another tantrum. Moving only the slightest bit was torture and he was sure he ran on coffee alone by now. His partner was no help either, stubbornly being as deviant as possible. Only that his requests weren't orders, they were pleads for help. Because of course the android wasn't impaired by his behaviour at all. Two hours in stasis a day, more when he skipped one cycle, that was all the GV200 needed to be in perfect working condition. Full of his usual energy and spite, Richard could easily see their contrast. Shit. There was his initial fear of getting replaced again. Until now, his willingness to work himself to death had made him an essential asset of the precinct. But now with all these bots?

He shouldn't think about it. Concentrate on work instead. He stared at the photos from their latest crime scene, a murder. He had wanted to try finding some clues that this was connected to another case - his gut instinct told him it was. But they needed proof. Find little details that interlocked them. But when all these little details blurred together and the picture was vanishing into a blob of red, blue and black, there was no hope to find anything. He propped up his head on his elbow as it suddenly got too heavy for his neck to carry alone. A bad decision, really, as he struggled to keep his eyes open and half-heartedly focussed on the blob that once was his screen. Richard was certain to have fallen asleep as the android ripped him from blissful unconsciousness: 'Hey, meat-bag, we slacking on the job? We have a murder to solve, remember?' 'Hmm-hmm', was all Richard managed to utter, trying hard to focus again. 'Phcking humans, I swear.'

The human rubbed at his face, slapping his cheeks to get back into this cruel world. 'Gavin, could you please get me a coffee?' It wasn't beneath himself to beg at this point. 'Don't even think about it, dipshit! I'm not your phcking servant.' Suddenly there appeared a cup next to him and Richard invested enough energy to follow the connected arm towards the face of his saviour. He gifted Connor a warm smile, a rare occasion as the two brothers normally were more distanced. He clung to the cup as if his life depended on it and at the moment it really did. 'Wow, at least one of you damn organics is able to do something for themselves', Gavin commented. Richard practically sensed his brother inhaling to speak and managed to lift his arm to his, patting twice. Connor lifted a brow at him but got the message and left Richard to continue staring at his screen.

 'You have tried to find connections for over an hour now, meatbag. Any results? Or are your human eyes too incompetent?' Richard leaned back and finally focussed, at least on the android. What was it like? To never function less than perfect, never sleep, never have a bad day? 'Aren't you tired of this?', Richard sighed weakly. He had no interest in and no energy for a fight. 'Of what, detective?' Of course, where he was evading it, Gavin actively searched for confrontation. 'Of being a fucking asshole all the time. Of not caring a single bit for your surroundings. Of being openly hostile to everyone.' Gavin leaned back too. 'Listen here, you damn organic: if you-' 'Forget it', Richard said quickly, shaking his head upon his own idiocy. He really didn't have the energy for this. 'Forget I've said anything. I'm sleep-deprived and can't even fucking read anymore.'

He took a big gulp of the coffee and didn't even care for it burning in his mouth. Maybe the pain would allow him to stay awake where the caffeine failed. 'Just shut up and leave me alone', he muttered to himself. 'I have no energy to put up with you at all.' There was this weird stare again, proof that the android was scanning him despite the countless times Richard had told him not to. He just got back to the screen, pressing his thumbnail into the skin of his other hand to stay awake and alert. Finally there were some details coming back, there was the knife used to cut and left behind just like at the other scene, there were the cryptic numbers no one had managed to decode, it was still in question whether they meant anything at all. But making further discoveries became impossible again, as his head started to weigh more and more again. He gave in to the urge to half lay on the table, chin on his crossed arms and looking up to the screen. He fought staying awake for as long as possible, but his eyelids had a will on their own, closing again and again, until he thought: hey, just a few seconds, it won’t hurt anyone.

 He woke up to the scent of a freshly made coffee, not from the precinct but from the coffeeshop a few blocks away. Next to it was a bagel from the same location. Richard closed his eyes again. It was so nicely warm he nearly didn’t feel the sting in his back from staying in a really unhealthy position for a long time. Wait. Warm? Coffee? Breakfast? he opened his eyes again and stirred, catching a glimpse of a white jacket that had been draped over his shoulders. Confused he sat up and stretched wincing at the cracks from his joints. Then he looked over to where the GV200 was staring intensely at his screen. Richard’s first thought had been Connor, but with the jacket… ‘Thanks’, he croaked, yawning loudly. ‘Hmm?’ ‘You know. Makeshift blanket and all.’ ‘Hmm-hmm.’ ‘Why? You didn’t seem to care yesterday.’ Okay, that maybe was a weird thing to say to this, but he had never pegged the android for someone who would suddenly show that amount of concern. ‘We as the superior being have to take care of the humans we are partnered up with’, he stated. ‘Especially when these humans aren’t capable of that for themselves.’ ‘Of course’, Richard smiled knowingly. ‘Well, consider this mere human immensely thankful for providing organic nutrients for its prolonged survival.’ He gladly bit into the bagel and side-eyed the screen for a few seconds. ‘Also, these murders are connected, and I think the messages are numbers of pages and sentence.’ ‘Excuse me?’ ‘What, are your android eyes too incompetent?’