#since he said he has 3 map apps on his phone he watches those guys that try to guess a place via google street view

[korpuskat]

Start Game [Tomura Shigaraki/Reader] - Part 4

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,817 Summary:  Things don't always go as planned in new relationships... and finding out that he's a murder and leader of a terrorist group certainly isn't the plan. Contains DFAB but gender neutral reader; handjob, blowjob, vaginal sex

So, I had a really bad night so instead of doing Kinktober 8, here’s the final chapter of Start Game that I was sitting on. pls hmu if you see errors, I’m really tired dkjfddhgdgkjs

===== [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] =====

In the end, you knew nothing about him.

Memories sit like a rock in your stomach. It felt so obvious now- plain as day. Half your screen lit up with your chat log- days worth of conversations laid bare, the words making your chest ache. How could you be so stupid? He’d warned you about it. That he was a stranger. Just some guy you'd hang out with, play games with- the center of your little innocent, stupid daydreams. That's all it was supposed to be.

The other half of your screen is covered with a still image, a photo grabbed from a news cast pasted onto a tips wanted hotline. Every cell in your body has gone cold as ice, frozen as the image. In the chat window, tiny text appears below the log: dust2dust is typing...

It was true. You knew nothing about him after all.

You didn’t reply to him, fully aware you’d left him on read.

You’ve never done that before. Always, always you’d reply as soon as you saw his message, all too eager to talk with him, spend time with him. But then, he’d never been quite so forward. It was always about gaming, about hanging out- to be so transparent about it now…

dust2dust: are u free tonite

Your stomach churns, sickness rising in your throat- tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. They bubble over, blur your vision and wipe away the image of a man standing on a rooftop, his hair whipping around his face. Maybe you could believe it was someone else, the strange mask he wore obscured Tomura’s recognizable skin and scars, the image too far out of focus to tell his eye color, even the darkness had left his hair more gray-colored than anything. But beneath the long black shirt sleeves, bandages peaked out, uneven. His right hand, his left wrist.

The tip hotline poster sealed it all together. Shigaraki. The man in connection to the Hosu City incident and the attack on U.A. prior and, oh. The bandages. Shigaraki had been shot, hadn’t he? That’s what the article you’d dug up before said.

A villain. He’s a villain! You’ve been hanging out with him- he could’ve killed you!

You curl up on your bed, tug your blanket tight around your shoulders. Your phone is solid under your fingers- the number pad staring back at you. You could get him caught. You could stop him from hurting anyone else…. It would be so easy! All you had to do was dial the number, to just... push the buttons. That's all.

You squeeze your phone in your hand- and your thumb is stiff, aching- just push the button, just tap the screen- that's all it would take. Why is it so hard? You could prevent the next attack, could make the world a little safer, to be a hero-

So why can't you do it?

Ding! You flinch, close your eyes- will yourself to look away from the screen. You don't need to see the chatbox flashing, don't need to see the new message sitting on the screen-- but with the client open, he'll get the read notification just the same. You just... walked away from the computer is all. It's just that innocent, that easy- to pretend you aren't aching to talk to him. That it's an honest mistake and not your desperate attempt to keep your head together.

The notification rolls in on your phone- a banner dropping down over the screen: New message from dust2dust.

Finally, your thumb moves. A single tap- and the mobile app opens up, your chat log spreading out.

dust2dust: u there

All you want in the entire world is to say yes, to ask what game he had planned tonight. To lose yourself in whatever colorful world was his interest tonight- maybe he'd want to visit your Animal Crossing island again. But that is wrong… isn’t it?

Between a rock and a hard place- you can't turn him in and you can't go back. There's no good answer to this, no way to pretend you didn't know why he wore those gloves now. No way to pretend he hadn't put those hands on you- in you. And... you can't avoid him forever.

You fingers shake as they touch the screen, tap on the keyboard where they could not meet the number pad. I know.

The response is immediate.

dust2dust: Know what?

You sniffle, wipe your face. You're over the precipice, there's no going back.

Shigaraki.

The cursor blinks in the text box. dust2dust is typing... appears and is gone within seconds. Nothingness. The green circle beside his icon remains lit, his status online.

You rub at your face and struggle to type out:

I won’t tell anyone. I promise.

The words sound true; you couldn’t even work up the nerve to call the hotline. Turning him in… somehow feels scarier than messaging him. Talking to him.

You watch, wait for the typing notification, but it doesn’t come. All that changes is the green circle beside his name turns gray, the status below his username updates: offline. last seen one second ago.

A coldness lances through your chest, a pain far worse than before.

You spend the next day waiting. Maybe for death, maybe for Steam to give you a friendly little pop-up, dust2dust is playing… and maybe you’d join him. Like nothing had changed, you’d join his party, he’d admonish you for being late, give you that quiet, warm praise when you solo a monster.

But it doesn’t. When desperation for fresh air drives you out the door, you expect a man in a black hoodie waiting for you. Maybe to talk, maybe to so easily lay his hand on you, just to be sure you won’t speak of him.

He isn’t there. He doesn’t lurk around every corner, doesn’t come online- you check. Every time your phone buzzes your heart swells, and every time it’s not him. The status on his profile ticks upwards without fail, no matter how often you open the chat and want to find the right words.

It’s worse than you imagined, the loneliness. Your once real friend and oh, of course! Of course you’d have the sense to befriend Japan’s Most Wanted. No matter how much you remind yourself, it doesn’t change the icy pit in your stomach. It’s not dread, it’s not fear.

Because as much as you think about him appearing and exacting his vengeance for you knowing too much- he could’ve done it before. He took you to his home, touched you, let you sleep beside him- he could’ve killed you through any of that. Instead he was careful, wore gloves. Opened up, just the tiniest bit. He could’ve killed you and he didn’t. Could’ve shown up at your door— could’ve destroyed the whole building.

He didn’t.

And that makes the pain sharper, more acute. A horrible ache has taken root in your chest and won’t go away.

.

.

.

.

.

It’s a terrible makeshift metric for goodness: that he didn’t harm you when he could have. But that has to mean something, doesn it? All the time he’s spent with you… that can’t be nothing. He risked exposure to be near you- and thus far has not left you in the dust.

Offline. last seen one day ago.

It has to mean something, it has to. That’s what you tell yourself as you slip through your apps. In your internet tabs there’s one that catches your eye. A map, a google search for restaurants near me with a bright red pin stuck into a satellite image.

It has to mean something.

.

.

.

.

.

.

You repeat that mantra over and over, even as you step off an unfamiliar metro line. It can’t be for nothing, can it? You walk, follow the directions back to your pinned location. The weeks spent talking and gaming even before he’d laid hands on you, when you still looked at him with star-struck eyes and a naivety that must’ve lasted longer than you thought.

He has to be busy. Can’t spend all his time in the arcade, being prickly and antisocial to everyone but you. That has to mean something.

You stumble through darkened streets- your journey having taken much longer than expected with your shaking legs and three separate breakdowns to consider if you were completely batshit.

The tiny distance calculator counts down as you walk and that might be the only thing keeping you sane. A nice little number to watch tick by as you approach a run-down section of the city. Sure enough, you end up outside a characterless building. It doesn't look right- where you had been was certainly somewhere lived-in, his possessions covering the shelves. But then, wouldn't a more nondescript building be more suitable?

You bite your lip, stand before the building in question. Your hand shakes as you approach- a broken BAR sign flickers once in the window. This is such a terrible idea, your worst, really. Bad enough to befriend a villain, but to go back? Maybe you should take a fourth break to debate if you've really lost it. There’s no turning back.

You reach out, fingertips brush against the door- it’s ripped open.

“Whatever, I’m-“ A man’s silhouette blocks most of the doorway, his face cast in shadow, backlit by the soft yellow of the would-be bar’s interior. He stops, looks down at you- and your bravery plummets to your toes. He glares at you with narrowed eyes ringed by heavy scars and facial piercings. “Who’re you?”

Your voice dries up- the reality of it all setting in too fast. “Oi, what’s-” Your attention snaps from the scarred man’s face to just over his right shoulder.

He looks just like he did in the press release: a terrible white hand grabbing his face, obscuring everything except one bright red eye. An eye staring you down, opened impossibly wide, pupil blown full, eclipsing the red of his iris till only a sliver remains. But it's him and the relief that washes over you makes it feels like years since you last saw him, not simply a day and a half.

The scarred man looks over his shoulder towards Tomura, raises one eyebrow- but Tomura doesn't even see him. Doesn't acknowledge him at all, doesn't see anything except your face.

"Oh, so this is your problem." The man huffs, shoulders past you.

And with him gone, all that is left is an unobstructed view into the bar, of Tomura Shigaraki, wanted villain, easing himself off a bar stool. He moves slow, but you watch his fists clench and release over and over, long, slender fingers drawing invisible lines in the air in a motion you've become all too familiar with.

Your hands shake, but you step through the threshold just the same. The door closing behind you is only faintly alarming, but with every sense attuned to the man before you, you don't have much thought to spare. He steps towards you, just one foot the first time- a test, a measurement- and though you cower, you don’t run.

That’s all he needs to know.

He’s on you- you hadn’t even seen him move. No more than a blur of black and the gray of the bloodless hand- and you’d think by now having him pressed up on you wouldn’t make your heart stutter in your chest. It does, though. But this time, this time you know the danger of his touch- of three fingers and a thumb curled over your throat.

“How did you get here?” He hisses, the threat of his hand has spread to his throat, the one eye now only half-visible under the misplaced fluff of his hair.

His hand eases off your windpipe just enough for your voice to eke by. “Phone saved the location.”

It feels wrong to speak of your almost normal date with the violence in his eyes. "Why are you here? Playing bait for the heroes?"

"No," You shake your head, your chin rubbing along the inside line of his hand. "No, I swear. I didn't tell anyone."

"Then why?" His eye narrows down to a slit, the damaged skin there folding in tight.

Your tongue wets your lips, your mouth parted as though that would make the words come easier. "I don't know." It's true; you knew coming here was crazy. "I... I missed you."

Even from behind the hand, you hear the hitch in his breathing. His eyelid lifts, rage giving way to something else. He stares at you, hardly moves but the gears turn in his head, "You're lying."

Tomura's wrist is cool under your fingertips- his pulse jumps as you touch him. It's not a plea for him to get off you, your hand not tight around his wrist- it's hardly more than a brush of your skin against his. "I..." Shame makes you look down to his feet, the same red sneakers you've come to love on his feet. "I didn't know what to say when... when I figured it out. I was scared." His grip shifts, as though confirming that you should be- "But... then I kept checking my phone. Waiting for you to message me. But I... I knew you wouldn't and... I couldn't find the right words. I thought maybe being here would be easier..."

"Is it?"

It's so disarming, so honest, you struggle to catch your breath. "Can I see you? I mean, could you...?"

Tomura waits a moment, but he does it nonetheless. His right hand never leaves your throat as he grasps the preserved palm with three fingers, drawing it away from his face. Your heart races- and from the twitch of his thumb over your jugular, you think he notices too. It's still him, of course- brow creased even more than usual, eyes tightened around the corners as he judges you.

"Tomura," You breathe, more sure. His face twitches, something just beneath the surface dying to break free. Still smothered beneath his suspicion. "I missed you. You're... the only person I really have and when I thought of never being able to talk with you again or- or touch you," You feel your cheeks heat, shame driving your gaze back down. "I couldn't stand it."

His breath shakes, his eyes like blood dart across your face, searching for something there. You're trembling so hard- anxiety and adrenaline rushing together in one awful slurry- you hardly even recognize that his hand is trembling too, his last finger twitching to come down and end it. It's not his finger that touches you.

All at once you think back to him standing beside you in the arcade, laying next to you in his bed: his hand on your skin, his breath warm across your face- he lingers there, eyes spread wide in something you dare not name. Not until he decides- and surges forward, presses himself to you completely, angling himself to find every inch of your body he can against his; his long legs set just inside yours, his thin torso leaves you hardly any room to breathe, his free hand raising to grab the side of your face- and with a burning need, he devours you. With lips and teeth and the tips of his fingers digging deep into your flesh, leaving eight bruises behind- and when his mouth drifts from yours, down onto your neck more bruises follow.

His tongue is hot and wet, laves a humid streak up from collar bone to jaw, leaves you shuddering and digging your fingers into his hair with a plea of "Tomura,"

"I knew it." He says, half laughs against your throat. The skin there tingles with the latent pressure of his hand, the threat that never came to fruition- then sparks as he kisses, messy and too wet, nipping freely, littering your skin with marks until you're panting. "I knew you meant it, that you're mine."

The word makes your knees weak, an airy moan escaping from your lips- which only fuels him to keep going. "You- you want to touch me?" The giddiness is back, an ecstatic trill in his voice, a shiver wracking down his body- all the way to the tips of his fingers that catch your wrists. "Then go on, touch me." He doesn't actually give you a choice, he shoves your hands against him, forces your palms up against the firm bulge in his pants.

Shock makes you tug against his hands for a moment- and for one agonizing second, Tomura's face falls. His too-wide grin- the one that puts you right back against the wall in that dim hallway- slips from its upturned joy. And then you touch him. Even with his demanding control, it's different when you actually do it: your fingers curving around the shape of him, feel his weight through the cloth. His breath catches and though you're sure it feels good, the twitch of his brow into something almost like surprise- just a flash of emotion before dissolving back into that thrilling, dangerous smile- has you thinking it's something else.

You palm at him and his hands loosen, lets you explore. A squeeze makes him grunt, and you take that as a good sign. Your best attempt to stroke him through his pants has his hips pushing into your hands. Though you need to bite your lip to keep yourself grounded, the loose, stuttering jerks of his hips give you enough courage to do more. Tomura stares at you, point-blank, inches from your face as your fingers quiver but dip below the waist of his pants.

The grin widens and nervousness makes your breaths come in quick- but when have you been able to say no to him? You push his pants down- and his cock bobs free, just as you had imagined how it looked when he was grinding on you: long and pale, the head a blushing pink, half-exposed, peeking out from under his foreskin. It's practically radiating warmth and throbs as you hesitantly wrap your fingers around him properly for the first time.

You just hold him for a moment, stumbling over what you should do- and his hand finds your wrist again. You welcome the help; he's not shy about what he wants you to do. He curls your fingers in tighter, tighter- until you'd be worried you were hurting him if he wasn't currently fucking your hand, half the motion coming from his grasp on your wrist, half from his hips. It's rough, the skin of your palm dragging against his cock, your strokes unlubricated except for the sweat of your palms and the first drips of precum that squeezes out each time your thumb and index finger squeeze up around the head. On the downstroke, the thin hood of skin slides back, fully reveals the pink skin beneath.

"You're doing so good," Tomura's voice is husky, rasping next to your ear. His gaze flits between your hands on his cock and your face, watching as your expression evolves- lingering when you lick your lips.

"Wait," You work against his grip to still your hand. Tomura whines, ruts once against your palm, fingers twitching as he tries to control himself. There's a question in his eyes, one you soothe with your free hand touching his side, then with words. "I want to... try something." His brow twists, one eye narrowing- until you're bending your knees. In the meager space he's left between himself and the wall, you slide down. His breathing hitches and something wild passes over his face.

You touch his legs, still covered in his dark pants. Beneath, his thighs are slender, but solid. One hand slides into your hair, bitten-short nails scratching at your scalp- spark a shudder that jumps down each vertebra, prompts you to look up at him. With his hand in your hair, you follow the long, thin line of his arm to his face. From below, he's menacing, face completely cast in shadow, his hair now framing the damaged and ruined skin of his features instead of obscuring them. Just like this, you're one finger away from a death too many people have seen. Maybe you should be concerned on why, exactly, that makes your mouth water.

His fingers- all except the littlest- press down at the top of your head, bring your mind back to the matter at hand. What you had wanted to try.

It's different being level with his cock. Before it was intimidating, something new and unfamiliar- but at least you had Tomura's hand to guide you... or really hold you still so he could use your hand. And that was good, amazing, even- to hear his panting up close and feel him, really feel him as he throbbed in your palm. But you worked up the courage to come here, you made some kind of horrible realization about your own desires in this world and you want to follow that thrilling conclusion to its end before common sense can catch up to the adrenaline.

Down here, with your thumbs sliding up beyond the hem of his pants, stroking at the expanse of pale, smooth skin of his thighs- barely dusted with hair so thin and pale it looks white, it's different. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, foreskin eased back into half-covering the head, a shiny bead of precum glistens at the slit. You touch him, squeeze just how he showed you- and feel the thick vein on the underside pulse hard beneath the pad of your thumb. You resist the urge to swallow, instead opening your mouth and easing out your tongue.

The first lick makes his cock twitch, though you think it's more the sight of you on your knees than the actual sensation. The taste is not quite what you expect; a single bead of precum and that which has smeared is not the bitterness you expected. It's mostly watery, a faint tinge of sweetness that settles in the middle of your tongue, soaks in deep. The next lick is less timid, more adventurous. You press the meat of your tongue up against the underside and stroke upwards, feel his pulse quicken. As you reach the tip, his hips twitch.

This time, you ease him into your mouth- and a wonderful little muttering of "Fuck." that goes straight to your clit. His fingers slide back from the top of your head, down to curl around the back of your skull. He gives you another guiding push, urges you to slide down his length a little more. It's something you can do- it's easy when he's the one talking you into it. And the praise that follows- "That's it, that's right,"- makes you shiver, makes you shift impatiently and try to swallow him down.

You bob easily, your hand covering what your mouth can't, each stroke smooth and slick with the saliva that slips from your lips. Each sound he makes is a badge of honor and you chase them without shame- Tomura's half lidded eyes and lopsided smile is all the sign you need to know he's thrilled with your attempts. Like building a catalog, a reference- trying anything you can think of and waiting for his noises, measuring your success with impatient thrusts and broken-off sighs, choked-down whines.

You sink down on him until your lips meet the sides of your fingers and you have to lay your hand against him, fingers pushing into the mess of pale hair along the base. Your jaw aches, but you want to try- want to swallow him down, to make him lose himself to your mouth just as you'd done to him. His cock touches the back of your tongue and saliva wells up around him- half an inch further and he brushes the back of your throat; you choke.

Your throat spasms, a wet noise escaping from your lips- you struggle to cough around his cock, feel shame rise in your cheeks as you try to pull away- and are stopped by Tomura's hands at the back of your neck, by his voice.

"Oh, fuck yes." He's staring down at you, blood of his iris completely lost to the black of his pupil. He pushes at your head, urges you back down. "Do that again."

Embarrassment washes away, leaves you wide-eyed, something like pride welling up instead. The head of his cock still on your tongue, you play with it for a moment. Breathes even and slow through your nose as you lick at his foreskin, slip your tongue in between. That earns you a sharp intake, so you swirl your tongue around the head, let the almost sweet taste of his precum coat your mouth until you're finally ready to try again.

He touches the back of your tongue and again your mouth floods in response, spit leaking from your lips to cling to his cock and drip over your chin. A deep breath and you do your best to flatten out of your tongue, let him slide in- it's not so severe this time. Like the itch in your throat before a cough, trying to suppress that urge makes your eyes water, so you squeeze them closed. You take him a little deeper- and Tomura moans as your throat constricts around him again; his hands keep you still as you instinctively struggle.

Your nails bite into his thighs, but the warning goes unheeded, utterly ignored as his hips rock, forcing his cock further into your throat. Protests muffled in your throat, but from the way Tomura's eyes roll back, you're not sure he even understands.

"Here, here," He says, one hand catching your chin with three fingers. He draws your chin up, tilting your head back- and the pressure in your throat eases. Breathing through your nose, catching your breath, you again find yourself staring up at him. With careful fingers, he brushes a loose hair from your face- and ghosts his thumb just below your eye where the gaging has made them water. He hesitates there, can't find the words for what he wants to ask. He doesn't have to. It's awkward to nod with his cock still in your mouth, halfway down your throat, but you do your best anyway.

With his hands returning to their place at the base of your skull, you resume. With the new angle, it's easier to take him in. Even if you do have to pause to choke, your own will keeps your hands at the backs of his thighs, keeping him from pulling away from you. Tomura loves every second of it, watches you from above with rapt eyes, keeps your hair out of the way so he can watch his cock disappear further and further into your body. You're doing so well, you look so good, he wants to tell you, but every real word has left his head, leaving him drooling and panting and he wants more

The tightening of his fingers into your hair is the only real warning you get. First, an easy stuttering of his hips, the same little motion that he's tried to suppress before- it makes you choke again, but you know he likes it- and perhaps you do too, feeling wetness well up in your eyes at the pressure in your throat, how your head feels light and empty as you struggle to breathe around him. But usually he gives you a moment to compose yourself- not this time. He whines and through tear-blurred eyes his face contorts in pleasure- his hips thrust again. You sputter, relax your jaw, and let him.

Each stroke makes your throat ache, itch as you fight the coughing fits that build up in your chest, but his next thrust has your nose brushing that tangled mess of hair. His scent, the musk of sweat and arousal fills your nose- and while Tomura greedily fucks your throat, one of your hands falls between your legs, rubs hard against your clit. The long-needed pressure makes you moan- and the vibration of your voice has him rambling, words too half-formed, too broken up by high-pitched, heady noises, too buried under the slick noise of his cock in your mouth for you to piece anything together except:

"Cum- ah!- gon' cum- I- oh," He breaks off again- his teeth sinking into his lower lip. You hold onto the back of his thigh- let him use your mouth until he's gasping, fingers twisting hard into your hair. His cock throbs on your tongue- and with his next thrust, sharp bitterness fills your mouth. With how Tomura moans above you, his brow drawn in high and tight, mouth hanging open, his cracked lips burning bright pink with his teeth's abuse, you couldn't begin to imagine not loving it.

He pulls you in close and you gag again, closer, closer until your nose is buried in those short hairs. Tomura's head falls backwards and all you can see past the black of his shirt is the long column of his neck and red, scratched skin there. This deep you struggle to breathe, to pull in enough oxygen around his cock, but the little dying whimpers of him riding out his orgasm is all that matters in the world right now. He pulls back before blackness can eat at your vision-

and for a moment, Tomura stares at you with such wonder in his eyes. His hands leaving your hair to grab the sides of your face, tilting your head so he can look at you. You can't imagine you look good, covered in tears and spit from gagging, but he runs his thumb along your lip all the same. He pulls you up by your jaw and you have to claw your way up his clothes to keep pace, near falling with your legs half-asleep- his mouth crashes onto yours. His kiss makes you lightheaded in a way even his dick could not, leaves your head spinning as you hold onto his shoulders for dear life.

His legs move, stepping backwards, but his arms give you no choice but to stumble along with him, half-dragging you as he goes. "Good, so good, perfect," He praises between kisses, "My perfect little pet," Another barrage of kisses, so fast and haphazard you can't begin to reciprocate before he's breaking away again. "You'd like that, right? To stay here and be mine." You try to say yes, yes but he's back on you, drawing your lip into his mouth and sucking too hard; all that comes out instead is a high-pitched whimper. You don't even realize where he's taking you until he's pushing backwards through the purple curtains into that dark hallway beyond. He fumbles behind him with one hand until he finds the doorknob.

The lighting is no better than before, a paused game screen lighting up the room in harsh blue light. He doesn't give you long enough to take it in. The room spins as he moves you like a doll, turning you around and shoving you back against his bed. Your knees catch on it and you fall back- and Tomura is back on you in seconds.

This time, he bypasses your mouth, lips latching onto your neck while his hands shove your shirt up and up until he can grope at your chest. Pain shoots from your neck at the harshness of his bite, his teeth sawing into your flesh in desperation to mark you, to force more noises from your mouth- while he catches your nipples between thumb and finger. Whatever had been holding him back before is gone now- he's rough, unhinged, twisting and tweaking at your chest, pulling on your nipples until your chest has to arch with him to assuage the pain. His mouth pops off your throat, breath ghosting over the wet, aching spot he's left behind before he finds another spot closer to your collarbone.

This hands, too, move along. The minimal patience he had for your shirt is lost on your pants; his fingers twist into the fabric and you're gasping for a reason other than his ruinous mouth. Cool air greets your heated skin- and his fingertips push between your outer lips. Tomura immediately detaches from your neck, a long trail of saliva hanging between his lips and your skin as he rears back at his fingers. You already know what he sees; the warmth has been building between your legs for far too long, the ecstasy of letting him use your throat, of listening to him lose himself in you- it hasn't been without effect on you. A single huff of laughter and he's back over you, teeth nipping at your earlobe as he taunts you. "This wet already? You're so dirty," He kisses over the still stinging mark he left, "I knew you liked things that were wrong."

His fingers slip through your slick, dragging it up to your clit. He swirls the pads of his fingers around it, fans the flames in your belly until you're squirming, begging into the darkened room, "Please, please,"

"That's right," He sighs, giddiness still making his voice light and airy, "You want me, don't you? Need me?" You can only whimper and nod, chase his fingers with your hips. "That's alright, I'll take care of you."

He shifts just enough to shove his own pants off his thighs and kick them off- and his left hand holds your thighs open as he settles between them. With his right, he grabs the base of his shaft- and you can't suppress a whimper as the head of his cock slots between your plump lips. He nudges against your entrance, teases your tight hole- before letting it slide through your arousal, coating the underside and rubbing against your clit. The head, fully revealed, peaks up between your legs as you look down- and it dawns on you that yes, this is really going to happen. He's going to be inside you-

And Tomura grins, leans in close to your face until you could trace every scar, even line across his face. As elated as he looks, his voice holds a dark sincerity. "I'm going to destroy you."

It's a promise and he delivers. He pushes into you- wetness eases his way, but he hadn't even stretched you. The head makes you pussy ache, sting around his girth, but he doesn't stop there. He breaks you open, cleaves his way deeper, forces your tight cunt to bend to his will and you do. Your body flutters, strains to accommodate his desires until he's buried inside you completely. Your thighs shake, tremble with the desire to latch around his waist and keep him still- but his hands are already settling just behind the bend of your knee.

"I told you," He says, pushing on your legs until you're bending in half, knees nearly meeting your shoulders. Above you, he consumes your vision, your world. Everything you've ever known fading away in favor of Tomura's scarred face and the way his hair sways when he moves. "You'd like it like this."

And Tomura plants his feet and thrusts. One stroke and your hands are scrambling over his sheets. He drives into you with reckless abandon- any finesse he might've had lost in your soft, pliant, heat. It doesn't matter. The extreme angle has his cock pushing in deep, touching all those new, sensitive places you've never found before. Every motion has him filling you up to bursting, the stretch making your body sing around him until unintelligible noises fall from your lips.

It's too much all at once; his cock is redefining your life, stroking each nerve into a new awareness while he's so close you can nearly kiss him, yet just inches too far, leaving you only able to stare at Tomura's features in rapt wonder. His gaze has long since become lust-hazed, his teeth sinking once more into his lower lip in a feeble attempt to stay quiet- but in reality it does nothing to stop the feral grunts that come in time with his cock pounding at your cervix. Worst of all is the arrhythmic stroking against one sensitive patch of your front wall that makes your entire pussy tingle and spark to life, driven so close to the peak you can't quite reach.

"Tomura," You can barely breathe, each punctuation of his hips knocking the air from your lungs. He doesn't respond, doesn't acknowledge you at all, opting to lower his head and pant against your chest. The heat makes sweat gather, your skin prickle- your arms waver, weak and near lifeless as you reach for his wrists.

"Tomura," repetition makes awareness filter back into his eyes. He stares at you from under the undulating wave of his hair, stray, sweaty strands sticking to his forehead in a wild fringe. "Please," The word barely makes it past your lips as another brutal punch of his hips has your eyes rolling.

"Tell me." His grasp on your legs tightens, digs in until you know bruises color your skin.

"Touch me."

Tomura's breath catches, his hips stutter as that dangerous spark returns to his eyes. He doesn't look away, holds your gaze as his right hand slides from your leg to your belly. With the rest of his fingers curled into a tight fist, the side of his thumb finds your clit. He doesn't even have to move it; each thrust makes your body sway with him, rubbing in time with his cock.

It's immediate- the tightly-wound arousal that's been aching in your belly flares, sparks finally catching in ignition. He keep fucking you, driving your high up and up until you can't stand it, hands grabbing at his arms just to have something to hold on to, something too desperate to be human escaping from your lips- until your mouth falls open and everything comes crashing down. The dam breaks; pleasure flooding out your need, cascading through your body, whiting out everything that isn't his touch, his voice, his cock- and you're arching, twitching, your cunt clenching around him as your clit throbs with his never-ending thrusts.

It's too much, watching you cum, feeling your walls contract around him until you're so tight he can't move and it hurts, your cunt milking him for everything he has and he drives into you until he can't anymore just to see how your legs and fingers twitch in overstimulation. He gives no thought to the way he's drooling mindlessly, how tightly he's gripping your leg- he cares only for the hot, wet sleeve of your pussy and the way your eyes have rolled back because of him.

Tomura cums so hard he shakes, sees stars- his cock kisses your cervix as he fills you, forever marks your pussy as his. His injured arms don't last much longer, but even with how his world goes fuzzy, he's careful with his hands, pulls each finger into cautious fists. Your legs ache from being bent for too long, falling down to rest on either side of his slender hips. Sweat dampens your chest, but he doesn't mind, rests the side of his face there, breathes hot air into the divot of your breastbone.

Your arms fight you, want to lay boneless where they landed, but with several movements that make you feel more like a loose marionette than a human, you find Tomura's back. One hand slides under the wide, loose collar to find the bandages there, the other cups the base of his skull where sweat has dampened the short hairs there that curl wildly.

The stale, unmoving air takes too long to help you cool down- fluids drying on your skin making you itch, feel disgusting-- but the weight of Tomura's head on your chest and his slow, even breaths keeps you anchored in place. But even Tomura must feel uncomfortable because he soon stirs, tipping his head to lay lazy, open-mouthed kisses across your chest. Another movement has you hissing- his hips shifting as his softened cock slips free- and so does the gush of fluids that run over the curve of your ass, pool onto the sheets.

Tomura doesn't even notice, lifting his head to meet your eyes again. In the blue light of his screens, you can make out how his pupils have released their stranglehold over his irises- which in the lighting look purple. Muscles feeling a little more human, you touch the side of his face- and speak the words you've been dreading. "What now?"

He blinks, slow and easy, catlike. When his lips part to speak, they stick together. "We never did play another game of Cloud Seven." And his mouth spreads into a grin- just soft enough, just rounded enough to perhaps be happiness.

=====

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[waywardbeanie]

A Man of Letters - Chapter One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: It started as a simple hunt for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t realize that this single case would change his life forever. Now they are on the biggest mission of their lives, and without the use of cellphones, the only way he can communicate with the love of his life is through old fashioned letter writing. He has done everything in his power to keep her safe, but will it be enough?

Word Count: 2428

Series Warnings: Language, slow burn, angst, smut, alcohol consumption, fluff, SPN typical violence (individual chapters will contain relevant warnings)

A/N: This series has been rattling around in my head for a while. It would never have made it to the light of day if it was not for my beautiful group of friends with whom none of this would be possible! You know who you are and I love you all!

If you’d like to be tagged, my list is open. Just send me an ask HERE:

Spotify Playlist : A Man of Letters

This series is ongoing!

Y/N,

It’s been two days since I left your sweet ass laying in that bed alone. I decided I’m just going to share my thoughts with you. Have you ever noticed it is so much easier to write them down than it is to say them out loud?  You have no idea how long I stood leaning against the door frame of your bedroom watching you sleep. Don’t laugh, it’s one of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen, I don’t know how long I’m going to be gone and I wanted that memory seared into my brain.

I’m sitting here in a hotel room; I’m supposed to be cleaning our guns while Sam has gone to get dinner. I’ll get to it, but I wanted to write to you first. As Sam and I were driving this first leg, he was filling me in on the case but between you and I, I really wasn’t listening. Sammy knew it too, but he kept spewing out facts anyway. Driving down the highway, Zeppelin in the deck. 

All I could think about was the night we met. You busted me staring at you so many times and each time you would just smile that dazzling smile at me.  Remember when I asked you to dance? You looked up at me through your lashes, tucked your hair behind your ear and smiled that sweet shy smile of yours. “I can’t, I’m working,” you said. I just laughed because you had no idea I was too. If it wasn’t for that nest of Vamps, I would have never met you. Thank God for Vampires!  I need to cut this short; I have guns to clean and Sammy will be back any minute. Please write me back, you can just send it to Bobby’s old PO Box in Sioux Falls, people in the group (usually Jodi) checks it all the time and will make sure I get it.  I miss your voice and your laugh. Stay safe until we are together again. 

I Love you,

D

3 years ago

Y/N had just moved to Lincoln, Nebraska 6 months before. It was where the dart landed when she closed her eyes and threw it at the map. This was her new lease on life, she promised herself that wherever the dart landed is where she would go to open her photography studio.

 “Ugh, corn,” she groaned to herself. That’s all she knew about Nebraska is that they have corn…and pigs. She was going to be so mad if all she took pictures of was prize winning pigs at the 4-H Fair.  

She picked up her camera and took a picture of the map. She would blow it up and hang it in her new studio to remind her of her new lease on life. She pulled the map from the dingy motel room wall, folded it and put it in her backpack.

Zipping it up she thought about one of those inspirational posters she saw once that said “The greatest adventure is what lies ahead”. Walking out, the heavy motel room door slams behind her, almost as a sign that she was never going to look back, only forward.

She threw her backpack in the passenger seat of her 2008 black Jeep Wrangler hardtop that was already packed with her camera equipment and the few belongings that she had. She pushed the Spotify app on her phone, “More Than A Feeling” by Boston began to play and she pointed the nose of her Jeep west, towards a new life.

Six months, Y/N had been in Lincoln and business was finally picking up. The owner of a honky tonk and blues bar called The Zoo wanted her to come take pictures for their new advertisements. Y/N walked through the door shabby club at 6:00pm on a Thursday night. It was country night, the first night of a 3-day shoot. She had her black skinny jeans tucked into a pair of black cowboy boots with black stitching and a knee length black jacket over a white form fitting T Shirt. She fit in, but not too much, after all she was a little more Rock-N-Roll than country.

Walking up to the bar she saw Travis, the owner, immediately. She set her backpack on the bar and leaned over to shake his hand. “Nice to see you again Y/N, glad we could put this together.”

“Me too,” she smiled back. “Can I just stow my bag behind the bar so I can be hands free to get the shots we talked about?” “Of course.” Travis nodded. Y/N unzipped the backpack to retrieve her camera, closed it back up and handed the bag to Travis with a nod of thanks. Turning her back to the bar she scanned the crowd. She could not believe it was already half full so early on a Thursday.

The band just walked on stage, welcomed the crowd and dived right into “Country Girl” by Luke Bryan. As the dancefloor began to fill up, Y/N once again scanned the crowd. Her gaze stopped at two tall men over at a table in the corner, one has longish hair almost to his shoulders and the other is just an inch shorter than his company. She locked eyes with the man who is of smaller stature as he brought a bottle of beer to his lips. She could feel the heat creeping up her face and she smiled at him.

 As he pulled the beverage from his mouth, the side of his mouth quirked up and he winked at her. She looked down at her camera quickly, fumbling with the lens cap. She could feel her cheeks flush as a tiny bit of sweat popped up on the back of her neck.

 “Holy shit,” she breathed. That man was beautiful. Starting with his black work boots, up his Levi clad legs, to his fitted white T-shirt under a red and white open flannel. His hair was brown but what shook her were his piercing eyes. She was too far away to see their color, but they were laser focused. It was like he looked right into her soul.

“Shake it off,” she chastised herself, “you’re here for a job.” She slid the lens cap in her back pocket next to her phone and brought the camera up to her face. Pointing at the crowd she began to take pictures; she took a few shots of the whole crowd but then began to focus on individual couples and the band on the stage.

 Throughout the night as she moved around the bar to get different shots, she would try to sneak a glimpse of the stranger in the corner. Each time she would catch sight of him, he was watching her. She would quickly smile and look away. They played this game most of the night.

As the band came back to the stage from their last break of the night, she had just returned from the back of the office area where she was showing Travis the pictures she had taken to confirm she was capturing the ambience he wanted for the promotional push. She glanced up to what she now referred to in her mind as “The Hot Guy Corner”. Her stomach dropped immediately; he was gone.

 Y/N didn’t know what she expected but she expected...something. “For God’s sake, he was staring at me all night,” she thought. Shrugging to herself, she plastered a smile on her face to chase the sadness away and scanned the crowd looking for the next set of shots. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” a deep voice rumbled, the breath warm against the shell of her ear. Y/N gasped and stumbled backwards into a hard wall of chest. Two large hands grasped her shoulders to steady her. “Sorry,” he chuckled next to her ear. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Straightening her spine, she turned around. Looking up, she peered into the most stunning moss green eyes that she had ever seen.  “H-H-Hey,” she stuttered, “you just surprised me that’s all.” She stepped back out of his grasp.

“Yeah, again sorry about that.” He smiled. Looking down at you he continued, “so I was wondering, would you like to dance?” She tucked her hair behind her ear like she always did when she was nervous and looked up at him smiling. “I can’t, I’m working.” She gestured with her camera.

“Well I figured it was close to the end of the night, so you might have time for a dance, ya know, just one.” He indicated to the dance floor. “Um, yeah I’d like that. Can you catch me at the last song of the night? That way I can finish up the shoot and put my camera away.”

“Sure.” He grinned, “I’ll find you for the last song.” He reached over and lightly squeezed her free hand, turned on his heel and walked back towards the corner table.

Before she knew it, the band leader was thanking the crowd for joining them on a Thursday night and that they would now close the night with “Colder Weather” by the Zac Brown Band. Y/N felt her heart begin to beat faster as she quickly put her camera back into her backpack behind the bar. She zipped up the bag and as she stood her eyes drifted to the dance floor.

There he stood in all his handsome magnificence as he locked eyes with her, smiling as he began lifting his hand towards her. She smiled back as the butterflies were riotous in her stomach and her body began to tremble. Walking over she took his outstretched palm as he led her to the middle of the dance floor.

 As they turned to each other, she put her left hand on his shoulder and her right hand in his as she felt his palm rest on the small of her back. Looking up at him through her lashes, she smiled. “Hey again,” he grinned. She huffed out a laugh, “Hey yourself.”

She concentrated on moving her feet to the music and prayed her hands didn’t get sweaty as his enveloped hers. She feels his touch lightly on her back as he leads her through the dance, and she swears it is burning a hole through her clothes. They didn’t speak after that, moving around the dancefloor as if they had done this together a million times.

The song was over too soon, and she was mentally kicking herself that she hadn’t taken this man up on the offer to dance an hour ago. As the final cords of the song came to an end, Y/N reluctantly stepped back. As she did, this denim and flannel clad man held gently but firmly onto her hand.

“I wish I would have asked you to dance sooner,” the corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile.

“Well, unfortunately I was still working.” She wasn’t sure why he was still holding her hand, but she couldn’t look at them for fear she could actually see the sparks zinging off their linked fingers. Hesitantly she let go, finding comfort in the front pocket of her jeans.

“Thank you for the dance.” She stood there awkwardly for a moment. When she looked up at him again, he was just staring at her closely. She smiled uncertainly at him and then turned on her heel to walk to the bar and grab her bag.

“Wait!” She stopped in her tracks and looked back over her shoulder. “Can I walk you to your car?”

“No, it’s ok.” She shook her head with a slight smile, “I parked under a light.”

She grabbed her bag quickly off the bar where Travis set it and with a quick wave she headed toward the door. As she made it out of the bar into the parking lot, she began taking deep gulping breaths of fresh air.

 “Why did he make me so nervous?” she asked herself. It’s just ridiculous. As she rummaged through her bag for her keys, she looked up to notice her dance partner’s tall friend leaning against a dark colored muscle car, parked a few spaces away from her Jeep. He wasn’t watching her exactly, but she could feel eyes on her. With keys in hand she unlocked the door and glanced toward the bar.

Standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe watching her was “Smoking Hot Flannel Guy”. He lifted his hand in a wave, she smiled and waved back. She jumped in her Jeep, cranked the engine and with Bob Seger’s “Her Strut” blaring from the speakers, she peeled out of the gravel parking lot with the silliest grin plastered on her face.

The roads were deserted this time of night as she drove like a bat out of hell, which is normal, no concern there, towards her little two-bedroom bungalow. Suddenly a light bulb went off in her head and she slammed on her brakes in the middle of the two-lane road. Quickly she looked in the rear-view mirror to make sure someone wasn’t about to plow right into the ass end of her Jeep.

She began banging on her steering wheel “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Y/N couldn’t believe it. She never even asked him what his name was. She was a people person, she always asked people their name. His mere presence made her so unsettled she forgot to ask a simple question. He didn’t ask what her name was either. “Well,” her mental dialogue began “maybe he would have if you let him walk you to your Jeep.”

“Ugh,” she thumped her head against the head rest. “This is what happens when you rarely find someone attractive.” She shook her head slightly. “You totally forget how to construct a sentence like a basic human being.”

She clutched the steering wheel and jammed her foot on the gas toward home. Her euphoric mood quickly dissipating. Y/N was never going to see the tall, handsome stranger again and she didn’t even know his damn name.

Chapter 2

Tags: @winchest09​ @katehuntington​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @emoryhemsworth​ @flamencodiva​ @superfanficnatural​ @deanwanddamons​ @janicho88​ @talesmaniac89​ @anathewierdo​ @compresshischest09​ @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @jensengirl83​ @this-is-what-im-reduced-to​ @ellewritesfix05​ @moron225​ @foxyjwls007​ @hobby27​ @unicornqu33n17​ @swinchester27​ ​@4fareader @deans-baby-momma​ @squirrelnotsam​

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

Know Your Worth

[gif goes to who ever made it and posted it, couldn’t find one that would fit this fic, so this was close enough.]

Pairing: Dean x Katie/Reader

Summary: Katie has been talking with a guy she met online, Facebook’s Mobile dating addition. They scheduled a date to meet. But, things don’t go well.

Warnings: Angst, Dean being awesome and fluffy, Fluff.

A/N: This is a rough, but am confident to post on here. This is base on something that had actually happened to me personally. And let me just say this, guys…not cool. Don’t be dicks. Girls I know ya’ll do it too. Quit it. You know what you want, go for it. Don’t be playing with your food…that didn’t sound right, but same concept/deal. Don’t play. OK, rant over. Enjoy, let me know what you think.

Check out my main masterlist

And my first major series has it’s own masterlist.

~

It was just another day at the office for the Winchester’s.

A hunt takes the boys across country, Katie is forced back to stay at the bunker because Dean said so, the hunt goes wrong, and someone’s hurt. It’s the usual.

She keeps up with the boys as they hunt the darkness. Texting Dean or Sam. But her phone is buzzing today. Facebook has come out with a dating app. More like a dating addition if your on your phone because PC doesn’t have it. (Non nerds…PC means PERSONAL COMPUTER. Not the operating system Windows. PC can refer to a laptop or a desktop. Not an Apple OS or a Windows OS. ‘KAY. Kay.)

She was getting a ton of likes, some just seeming like out of her league. And others seemed legit. One sweet guy, with a simple summary. ‘Just a simple man looking for a simple girl’.

Katie couldn’t help but smile and laugh as Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd played in her head. And she hit like.

Messages her right away asking her about her night so far.

‘Going good, just making my roommates some food for when they come back from their trip. How about you?’

She keeps up a good conversation. Learning he likes the comedy show Mom. He has two large dogs, he coaches kids teams track and baseball. And does political work in her local town.

Then came the inevitable.

‘Do you want to meet?’ he asks.

Her heart nearly skips a beat.

The boys wouldn’t mind. Dean said their coming home tonight. So someone’s home.

‘Yeah, how’s this weekend sound?’ she asks.

‘I got plans this weekend.’ He responds back.

‘Okay that’s okay, we’ll try next weekend or something.’ She mentions.

And he asks questions about her. A lot of questions. Getting to know her. She’s freaking out. No guy has ever given her this much attention, asked this much about her. But she kept her cool, answering truthfully.

Things seemed like they were going to hit off just fine.

-

Days slowly passed, he still messaged her. Messaging her good morning, how was her day. He was earning himself some date number 2’s and 3’s before the first one could even be planned. She felt like she was important. Like she could be something to him.

Dean didn’t even notice how much time she was spending on her phone.

Neither was Sam, the two just were so busy.

He offered to be friends on Facebook. She accepted and used Facebook messenger instead. At least this way she can see if he’s read the message or if he’s ignoring her.

A day goes by.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted to meet him. Get a feel for the guy, is this a guy she likes? Could he be the one? She wanted to get a vibe off of him.

‘I’m free this coming weekend, how’s that look for you?’ she asks.

As the day presses on, he see’s the message. Seeing the little notification on Facebook messenger he’d read the message.

A few days pass then he responds.

‘I am free. That’ll work.’ He says.

‘How about we meet at Starbucks for a little coffee, meet and greet?’ she asks.

More days pass as the date nears. Dean begins to notice.

“You expecting something Katie?” Dean asks. Just two days before the date.

“Just waiting to hear back from this guy I met online.” She says.

“You what?” Dean goes.

“Dean, it’s fine. I know what I’m doing. Just, don’t worry.” She tells him.

She puts away her phone. Giving up for the day. He hadn’t seen the message yet. But has been online on Facebook.

“Anything on the darkness?” she asked him.

“No, nothing. Sam’s just looking up cases now. Maybe we might run into her or something.” He says.

Katie nodding.

“So, have you met him yet.” Dean goes. sounding a tad irritated.

“Nope. That’s what I’m waiting to hear back on. We got a date picked out its just the matter of where and what time.” She says.

“And when’d you ask him this?” he asked.

“Just now and he hasn’t replied. He just responded to me not minutes ago and now he’s not saying anything.” She says.

“Just, allow the message to simmer in his inbox. Let him get the notification you know.” Dean says. Picking up on how up tight she’s getting. Almost desperate.

“I know. It’s just, you can’t plan this stuff and not respond. My anxiety needs to know these things.” she groans.

Dean giggling. Earning a smile from her.

“There’s that smile.” He says. “Give it time. And if things don’t pan out, you’re still young.” He adds.

Yeah, I’m still young. That’s what you wanna tell a girl my age. I don’t feel young. She thought.

The date is drawing near. He hasn’t seen it. He hasn’t replied back.

In the library she debates on whether or not to message him asking him again. but decides not to.

“The message is right fucking there on your phone, you’d think you can see it.” she groans.

“What?” Sam goes.

The two had been sitting in the quiet library. Reading up on the darkness.

“Nothing, just this guy I met online. Well, I haven’t met him in person. It’s like Tinder. Only it’s Facebook.” She says.

“Oh, yeah. Dean told me.” Sam says.

“It’s been almost a week Sam and he hasn’t seen it yet. You’d think he’d seen the message by now.” Katie says, almost whining.

“You would think that. But there are guys that just play with girls’ feelings you know. And there are guys who are just busy.” Sam says.

“Sam, I’ve been messaging him on Facebook. You can see if he’s read the message, and if he’s online and active on Facebook.” She says. But slouches, feeling down. “He’s probably play with me.” She adds.

Sam just gives her a sad knowing look. Knowing his friend is hurt.

It’s the day before the date. He hasn’t let her know of anything. Or acknowledged her message in any way by reading it.

Sam and Dean got a case with Sully to go on. Sam’s old imaginary friend. She sits this case out. And heads to her room and just hangs out.

Once Sam and Dean return, they noticed a lot of things different and off.

They entered the kitchen, nothing had been touched. No food was made.

“Where’s Katie?” Sam asked.

“Not a clue.” Dean goes.

“Maybe she’s on her date.” Sam says.

“Sam that was two days ago.” Dean says.

“Maybe they hit it off, I don’t know. Go check her room.” Sam says.

Dean drops off his duffle in the war room on the map table. And heads to her room a few doors down from Dean’s room.

As he nears her room he notices her door is shut.

He lightly knocks a few times. He hears a muffled hum. Signaling he can come in.

He opens the door to a dark room.

She’s laying on her stomach on her bed. Her head facing at the foot of the bed where she lay on top of a pillow watching, from what Dean can hear some grown men screaming on her laptop.

When he rounded the corner of the bed to sit beside her he saw she was watching YouTube, a Markiplier video of him playing FNAF Help Wanted VR. Looks hilarious, only she’s not laughing. He had caught glimpses of her eyes being red and puffy, her cheeks shiny from tears staining them.

“Sweetheart, talk to me.” He says softly. As he placed a hand on her shoulder, rubbing her shoulder and back in comfort.

“He never got back to me. Nor has he seen my message. I sent him just one word to him, just saying ‘bye’, and I unfriended him by blocking him.” She says.

“There you go, to hell with him.” Dean says. Patting her back.

“Dean,” she says sitting up.

He stops patting her, touching her, allows her to adjust and get comfortable again.

“I know I have never been on a date, never put myself out there. But once I do, I mean, I don’t know. Hell, when I flirt with the cute guy in high school, it feels like I scare them off.” She says.

She fights hard to not cry anymore.

“What is wrong with me?” She says finally. Tears filling up in her eyes.

Dean looked at her, hurt because his best friend is hurt.

“Not a damn thing.” He says surely.

“You are you. That’s what makes you unique. You are kind, you are gorgeous, you have a heart of gold. And you are an amazing cook. You are hella strong, you carry more weight than we all realize. We unload our shit to you, and you take it off us and help us. You are our rock. And, it doesn’t take much to message back. It was sitting in his inbox. And he just ignored it because he’s a dick and didn’t know what he wants. And you know what, he doesn’t deserve you.” He says.

She felt her heart well up in size hearing his words.

“You are a good person and deserve better. You deserve someone who can give you the world. You deserve someone who can take the weight off your shoulders, who can help you when you need it, be your rock. You deserve a fucking man, not a boy.” He adds.

She smiled.

“Thanks Dean, that means a lot.” She says. Wiping the tears away.

“So, how ‘bout I take you out to dinner tonight.” He says.

She looks at him wide eyed.

“That’s right, I’m asking you out sweetheart, whatchya gonna do about it?’ he says with a smirk.

“But, Dean…” she trails.

“I’m 13 years younger than you.” She worries.

“Age is just a number.” He says.

“I’ve never been on a…” she trails again.

“It’s okay, we’ll take it as slow as it needs to go.” He says.

Boy, he’s determined. She thought.

“You like me, don’t you?” she asked.

“I have for a long time sweetheart. Ever since we saved you from those werewolves, and you saved us from the Djinn.” He says.

“Okay, where are we going and what time?” she asked.

“I’ll take you to the where, and for the time, how about…8:00?” he asks.

“Dean that’s in like, 5 minutes.” She says, seeing the clock read 7:55 pm.

“Well then, better get dressed sweetheart, you have a date to go on.” He says with an ear to ear grin.

He get’s up to let her change. And just as he got to her door he stops.

“Hey, sweetheart?” he gets her attention.

She turns to face him.

“I’m proud of you.” He says.

She chuckles.

“For what?” she asks with a smile, confused a bit.

“For not giving him a second chance. I know that sounds like some douchey thing to say but, some girls would just give guys like this a second chance, doing that would just hurt ten times worse. You know your worth, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” He says.

She smiles, ear to ear.

“Thanks Dean.” She says.

~

this is based of an actual thing that has happened to me yesterday. when doing online dating especially on facebook, don’t give too much, don’t get suckered into anything they’re giving you. always meet someplace public and crowded so people can see you. Be careful when online dating. Know your worth. Don’t just settle. If they don’t get back to you on anything, like a meeting time, place and date. Don’t waste your time. On to the next one.

-

WARNING!

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 12/8/19

[transette]

Story time!

Idk why I feel like telling this story right now, but here it is! The story of the strangest night of my life.

So this happened to me about 2 years ago when I was living down in Macon, Georgia at Mercer University. Now as any of you who have been to Macon know, it's not the best city to go to, especially late at night.

It's about 1 am on a Sunday night, and my roommate gets a craving for some snack we don't have in our room, so like any reasonable college student does, we hop in his car to go to the nearest convenience store.

Now this is a 24h convenience store (affectionately known as the stab and grab), so it should never be closed, but when we get there the doors are locked, so we rattle the doors, just to confirm that we were trying to use them correctly, and a guy pops up from behind the counter, a guy who we've never seen there before, and he looks like he is 1) up to no good, 2) just killed a guy, and 3) is about to kill us, so we sensibly get the hell out of there as fast as we can, tires screaching and all.

When we get a "safe" distance away, instead of going right back home and calling it a night like we should have, we decide we will go to Walmart instead. So he pulls out his phone, and since neither of us are from around there we Google directions to the closest open Walmart. It's now about 1:30 am. We start going along, me looking at the map telling him where to go, and him driving, and we are going into the super bad part of town now, and my roommate's car is highly desirable to steal (lowered 2015 ford Taurus with the biggest chrome rims he can fit on there, and all blacked out with illegally dark tint on the windows). I get distracted from navigating from talking, and when I look back down, I realize the roads we're on aren't on the map! And Macon isn't a new city these roads should have been there, and I restarted the app, and they still weren't there! We finally figure out how to get there by guessing, and when we get to were Google says there is a Walmart, there wasn't.

What there was instead was a run down shed attached to an even more run down just about abandoned convenience store with a worn down sign above it labeled "wal mart". It's now 2 am. As we sit there wondering what to do a single light comes on from inside the shack, and we detect movement from inside, so once again we peel out of there as fast as we can, and once again instead of calling it a night and heading home, we continue trying to find some snacks.

After bumbling around for a little more we finally get back to a road on the map, and once more ask Google to guide us to a 24h Walmart, this time instead of sending us to where we just were it sends us to the only 24h Walmart in Macon, the murder Walmart.

We finally get there at about 2:30 after an uneventful trip over. When we get there we are met with an almost post apocalyptic scene. There are tents of homeless people spread out all over the parking lots, untastefully modified cars, and trucks probably filled with people who had been kidnapped, judging from the sounds emanating from within, and the sketchyness of the drivers. We park and go inside. We see the usual sort of crazy people who inhabit Walmart's at 3 am, and being the 2 most "normal" people we stand right out. People look at us weird. We get what we want, wait for the cashier to catch up with her childhood best friend (not joking) and go. It's now around 3:15 we think, because we seem to enter an alternate dimension.

We decide to take the highway back, as it is the quickest way back. We hop on and there is not a single car in sight. Now eventhough it's like 3am there should still be cars on such a busy interstate. Then all of a sudden between exits, and out of nowhere an all black car with no headlights on, and with even darker window tint than my roommate's car appears about 4 car lengths behind us. We only see it from the flashes of the streetlights. It keeps pace with us. We start freaking out. It drives ahead of us and we see that it has no license plates, and then he drops back and starts following us from the same distance again. My mate floored it, we get up to 100 mph, and the other car is still behind us. Then when we get to a much brighter part of the road, between exits again, it disappears. Just as we think it's gone, it appears again behind us!

We immediately get off and start just blindly swerving through the streets, probably blowing a few red lights, but the car is still behind us! We finally get a block from the school and we decide to go the most direct way there (1 side of a square vs 3 sides) just as we are about to pull in we see that the car has somehow beaten us to the gates and is waiting for us by the only way in to our assigned parking lot. Thankfully my roommate belonged to a fraternity (I never thought I would say those words), so we quickly drove over the the frat house lot, which was thankfully behind our dorm, parked and ran inside (with our snacks of course). After taking a moment to barricade our door and window, we had a small breather, that's when I noticed the time, our clocks all said it was about 2:45 am Sunday morning, when by our calculations it should have been about 4 am.

So we just said "whatever, that was weird, hope we don't die tonight", and we went back to our normal routine, he playing overwatch (he was a mercy main btw), and I watching YouTube.

The next morning at breakfast I decided to look at my Google maps travel logs just to see if the night before had actually happened, and 1) it did say we did it all in a physically impossibly short amount of time, and 2) most of the trip was just a squiggle all over Macon on the map, some of it not even over roads, and most of it nowhere we actually went!

So that's the story of arguably the craziest night of my life, when I went places that you shouldn't go, at times you shouldn't go, on roads that shouldn't exist, and was followed by a car that shouldn't exist.

[hippychick006]

14.18 - Absence Recap

I’m putting this recap under a cut. I’ve tried to cut it down, but nope, I have a lot to say about this episode.  It’s highly critical so if you are a fan of Dabbernatural, you most definitely want to keep moving down your dash.  Nothing to see here, the show is absolutely wonderful, carry on with your day...

Note, if I talk about Dabb’s writing, I mean him being in overall charge of the quality of writing as show runner, even though another writer might have written the episode I’m criticising.  I’m not fully blaming the writers because they have no clear direction with Dabb as showrunner.

Positives are the brother moments, though I definitely felt that Jared and Jensen were struggling a little to find the emotion in this episode – which contrasts with the emotion of episodes like Lebanon where it came more naturally.   Rowena is always a positive addition to an episode, and even though I talk about Jack being over utilised in my post, I still love my nougat eating Nephilim. Can we keep him and just send him off to Stanford and have him back for the holidays?

I’m struggling with the show right now.  My mind is “helpfully” supplying that we have 22 episodes and counting until there’s no more new Sam and Dean content, and episodes like this, that are so far beneath the - admittedly high - bar set by Kripke are just depressing to watch.  I’ve made no secret that Dabb is the worst showrunner to ever happen to Supernatural (I would have said any show, but I mistakenly started to watch Quantico a few weeks ago, so he’s been elevated recently).  Even by Dabb’s standards though, this episode is epically bad.   And it’s bad for so many reasons.

I had a quick look back at Dabb’s writing to see if he’s perhaps a better writer than a showrunner.  IMO, he’s had more misses than hits since joining the show in Season 4. Hits include: Yellow Fever, Dark side of the Moon, Red Meat and Lebanon (though I wouldn’t put Lebanon in the league of the other 3 personally, it was a great Season 14 episode, but stacked up against others, it falls down the list).  Misses include 2 failed pilots: Bloodlines and Wayward sisters, plus many others.   He’s capable of good writing obviously, I just believe he’s lazy and tries to please the online fandom too much, completely forgetting that fandom is an incredibly small part of the overall viewing audience.   He should write for the story first and foremost, only giving the odd nod to fandom, not allowing it to completely overtake – and in my opinion - completely ruin the story being told.

As showrunner, he’s started and dropped many plot lines (several of them running at the same time so you experience whip lash while viewing).  He kills characters for shock value and brought long dead characters back for the same reasons.  He’s then proceeded to butcher those characters (or ruin their earlier arc) until they are unrecognisable from the characters you loved.  He steals plot lines and ruins them, his dialogue includes ridiculous levels of pandering.  The show has too much drama, people constantly dying and there’s no fun anymore. When they try to do funny, it just falls flat, because they can’t write comedy in the same way as someone like Ben Edlund.

His biggest missteps though have been the forced pushing of “found family” onto a general audience that was watching the show for the unique bond between the siblings.  Making Supernatural about “family” is just making Supernatural the same as every other show out there.  The bond between the brothers is actually what made the show unique and special. Now it isn’t any more and the magic it had has been, not lost entirely, but heavily watered down under Dabb’s incompetence.  

His other misstep has been too much focus on other characters that are not Sam or Dean.  Seriously, I’m one of the people that likes Jack, but he’s had far too much focus this season (almost like they’re making a lame, last ditch attempt to try to get a character worth a spin off for this show).  No longer whispers into the void but screams until I’m hoarse: PEOPLE ARE WATCHING FOR SAM AND DEAN YOU DUMBASS HACK, FUCKING WRITE WITH THEM AS THE CENTRE OF YOUR FOCUS AND NOT REDUCE THEM TO PRETTY FURNITURE!

For those of you that might come back with “But J2 want time off…” I acknowledge this, but I’ll come right back and point out that J2 are in the episodes, it’s just not about them and that is the problem, not the time off.  As mentioned, I loved Jack in Season 13, now I don’t really care about him because he’s had too much of the story be about him, as if he’s the protagonist of the show and not Sam and Dean.  

Anyway, on to the episode.

We recap on Mary badgering Jack and watching it again annoyed me just as much as the episode last week.  Definitely slapped in the face with the stupid stick.  When someone is out of control, you humour them and give them space. You don’t constantly badger them, making things worse – particularly if you witnessed said being lose control and charbroil to death another human (a very bad, murdery human, but still a human).  And I don’t actually blame Mary, it’s simply bad writing, because if you want something to happen to get to the position you want to be in, write it better. Don’t make a character suddenly stupid in order to achieve it.  Unfortunately, as I mentioned on another post, Dabb is a very lazy writer.  He wants to get to point B and doesn’t care how stupid he makes his characters in order to get there.  

Sam and Dean arrive home, immediately calling for ‘mom’ and ‘Jack’.   Sam looks longer than Dean who is already sitting down with a beer when Sam returns from searching the bunker.  They share a toast to “another miraculous Sam Winchester survival.”  Dean: “Gotta say man, if Jack hadn’t have healed you…” Dean trails off and I try not to think of the consequences, particularly with how devastated Dean was during the few seconds he lost Sammy yet again. Dean reflects they’d be “up the creek without that kid.”

Jack’s all right as long as he’s saving Sammy and killing bad guys.  Got it.

Dean brings his phone out to try mom’s cell.  Sam brings his own phone out, presumably to try Jack. When Dean connects to Mary’s cell, they hear a buzzing and see Mary’s bag with her cell phone and keys on the other end of the map table.  Both start to get a little worried.

Sam says he’ll try Jack.  We switch to Jack and hear the phone ringing, but he doesn’t answer. He seems to be in shock.

Fast forward an indeterminate time and our boys have tried everyone; Jody, Donna, Charlie, Bobby, Rowena.  Nada from most of them, but Rowena is a little more helpful and might have a spell that can track Jack and Mary down.  Just as I’m wondering if Castiel was on their list, Dean’s phone rings, Sam looks hopefully at Dean (that it’s either Jack or Mary) but Dean shakes his head.  He answers the phone without putting it on speaker and it is indeed Castiel, who got Dean’s message that Nick was trying to raise Lucifer.  Dean updates Castiel that “the kid” says he took care of him, and they are just trying to find him and Mary at the moment.  Castiel: “Are they together?”  Dean: “Yeah.”  Castiel: “Alone?” Dean’s got no idea what Castiel is on about, he answers that yes, they are together, alone. Sam is only hearing one side of the conversation and wants to know what Cass is saying.   I have no idea why Dean doesn’t put the phone on speaker (I am however 100% certain it has nothing to do with non-existent Destiel), it just seems weird not to put it on speaker as they normally would, and there’s no obvious reason not to do so.  Dean knows Castiel is holding something back and says, “If you’ve got something to tell us, now is the time.”   Castiel explains about Jack using his powers to kill Felix the snake.  “I was gonna tell you but…”  

Urgh, how many times must we suffer through this?  This is Castiel’s role on the show: try to fix a problem without telling Sam and Dean, because he doesn’t want to worry them. It leads to something bad happening.  They find out, Dean is angry and wants no more to do with him, while Sam defends Castiel.  Rinse and repeat.   It’s manufactured drama and it’s bad writing, because if you are a decent writer, you can get drama within an episode without this.  And the thing is, Dabb wrote Red Meat, loads of drama in that episode, none of it manufactured, so he can do it.   Baby, Regarding Dean are other examples from recent years. Not a single one of these had manufactured drama, all absolutely fantastic episodes.

Castiel tells Dean he doesn’t think Jack is well.  Dean puts the phone down on him.  And thousands of anti Cass fans rejoice, and we will enjoy our few seconds of rejoicing even knowing that Sammy will at some point (probably this episode) vouch for Castiel as he has done many times in the past (undeservingly so imo – how many times is Sam going to say ‘it’s Cass’ before he stops getting a free pass and changes his behaviour?)  

Dean brings Sam up to speed about Jack, and Sam has an idea for finding him. He uses the “find phone” app to discover Jack is in Nepal. As they watch, Jack suddenly jumps to Lima, Peru.  Sam makes the genius (not really) observation that Jack must be flying.  They watch as Jack jumps again to Paris, France, and then Madagascar.  Dean: “What the hell is he doing?”

It’s night and we hear a flap of wings and Jack slumps onto the ground.  He stumbles to get up, then checks his phone, he has 10 missed calls, 7 voicemails, and several missed texts, all from Sam, Dean and Castiel. Interestingly, the most communication is from Dean, but I headcanon that a large part of that is Dean leaving messages: “Where the hell are you, Sammy’s worried sick!”

We see a flashback between Jack and Mary where Mary says what he did was amazing (in dealing with one of the AU angels – can’t remember which one – Zachariah I think, but he was wearing a different meat suit than normal).  The flashback ends and we see something appear in the dark behind Jack.  It’s Nick, though it’s not Nick.  His eyes flash red and I worry for a second that Lucifer is actually back, but no, he’s Jack’s sub-conscious.  Taps chin in puzzlement.  Where have we seen a similar storyline before, with this exact same character, hmmm?

Nick tells Jack that he can’t come back from killing Mary.  Jack: “It was an accident!”  Nick: “Okay, tell Sam and Dean that, I’m sure they’ll understand, it’s not like family isn’t everything to them.”   Jack zaps Nick, telling him to shut up.  

Oh, if only it were that easy, kiddo.

Sam and Dean are driving to somewhere – presumably still tracking Jack’s cell phone signal. Sam tells Dean that Cass is going to meet them there.  Dean doesn’t answer.   Sam tries to defend Jack, saying that maybe he wasn’t able to stop Nick from raising Lucifer and Lucifer took them both… “and Jack, he must have thought he was helping, you know, being kind.”  

Dean (and me, puzzled): What?

Sam: With Felix.

Dean (annoyed): “Really, with the snake?”  

Sam: I’m just saying, Dean, I’m trying to understand Jack without a soul

Dean (very annoyed now): We don’t know that he doesn’t have a soul!  Okay, I don’t wanna… let’s… let’s not talk about it, all right... let’s just find mom, find Jack and we’ll figure it all out.”

Sam’s tablet indicates they’ve lost Jack’s signal, but they still head to where Jack was last, which is the cabin where Nick was killed.  Very dramatic music as they head in there.  The music is another thing that has annoyed me this season, it overpowers scenes rather than compliments them, it’s very distracting.  Please stop it, because I’m not three years old and can understand perfectly well when I’m supposed to find something dramatic and when I’m not.

Sam looks inside the cabin, while Dean looks outside.  Sam therefore is the one to come across Nick’s body.  He shouts for Dean who doesn’t hear him (though last week heard him perfectly well from quite a distance).  Dean comes across a spot outdoors which is covered in ash.  He’s either just lucky he came across it, or he was tracking Jack and Mary’s path.  Dean’s an outstanding hunter, let’s go with tracking.  Sam soon joins him (also an outstanding hunter) and it’s clear they both seem to believe something bad happened at that spot.  

Cass is in the car and he’s arrived at the cabin.  He doesn’t go in.  We see a flashback to where he was hunting with Mary.  Jack having a flashback I understand, but Castiel has no reason to suspect that Mary is dead, only missing at this stage, so why is he having a flashback? Also, as other people have pointed out, this flashback of him hunting with her couldn’t have happened within the timeline. Lazy idiots that can’t keep track of the story!  Upshot of their completely fake scene is that Castiel says he’s glad she’s back and that Sam and Dean are happy, “Finally they don’t have to be so alone.”    Mary answers: “Castiel, they were never alone.” No, they weren’t Mary, because they always had each other and that’s all either of them needs.  Other people are nice to have, but not necessary to eithers continued existence.  Whispers: platonic soulmates.

Now, if Dabb meant that line to mean that they were never alone because they had Castiel, I look up the facts.  Dean was 30 before Castiel dropped into their lives, he was 37 before Dabb started forcing him into the narrative as “family/brother” when in actual fact between the years of 30-37, he was rarely around, and they only called him when they wanted something. Over the last three years, he hasn’t exactly been a constant in their lives, no matter how much Dabb has tried to shoehorn him in to please the 1%ers at the expense of the general viewing audience and a decent storyline.

Moving on, Castiel finally gets out the car to go inside the cabin.  

Sam covers Nick with a blanket.  He’s worried. Dean tries to reassure Sam that they don’t know what happened, they don’t know what Nick did, he probably deserved it.  Sam somewhat agrees Nick deserved it, but not in that way.

Sam updates Castiel on Nick and a “blast spot” behind the house that looks angelic, only bigger. Dean is turned away during this, giving Castiel the cold shoulder.   He does chip in at one point though;

Dean: It might have been Lucifer, Nick was trying to bring him back  

Sam: Yeah, but Jack said…

Dean: I don’t care what Jack said!  We don’t know what happened, but I swear, if he did something to her, if she is…

Sam sighs and Dean turns to Castiel, “then you’re dead to me.”

Hold on, I need a moment.  

“Then you’re dead to me.”

Sam: Dean…

Hold on another moment, while I speak to Sam in private about defending Castiel yet again. This is what I was afraid of, he always defends Castiel and Castiel is not learning anything. He makes the same mistakes over and over because he doesn’t deal with the consequences of his actions.  Slaps Sam in the face with a parenting book that helped me enormously during the teenage years.

Dean: “No, he knew, he knew something was wrong with the kid, he knew it and he didn’t tell us. He didn’t even tell us!”

Sam says nothing (good, our little chat worked then).

Castiel: I was scared, I believed in Jack for so long, I... believed that he was good, I knew that he would be good for the world, he was good for us, my faith in him, it never wavered, and then I saw what he did.  It wasn’t malice, it wasn’t evil, it was like Jack saw a problem and in his mind he just solved it with that snake…

Dean (angry):  the snake? [he’s seriously getting annoyed that everyone keeps bringing up the snake]

Castiel (talking to Dean’s back): What he did wasn’t bad, it was the absence of good and I saw that in him, but we were a family (family mention alert for those of you playing dabbernatural bingo!) and I didn’t want to lose that, so I thought I could... fix it on my own, felt like it was my responsibility, so I left, and I didn’t tell you.  If I could go back and just… just talk to him right then and there, I would, but I can’t Dean.  I failed you and I failed Jack.  And I failed…

Dean (turns around): No, no, Don’t even say it, don’t even say her name!  

Dean steps towards Castiel, but Sam steps forward and puts his hand out with a quiet “Dean.”

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to feel during this scene. Sad, I presume?  I just feel pissed that we are having to suffer through incredibly bad writing that has Castiel screwing up yet again, by going off on his own, yet again, and I’m going to have to suffer through some more puke inducing dialogue at some stage in the very near future that will have Dean apologising and all will be right with the world.  Totally fed up with Castiel being used as nothing more than a plot point, I don’t even like the character, but no one deserves that.  Bad, lazy writing that shows he has no purpose to the show and that he no longer fits and hasn’t for a long time.

Sam’s phone rings, it’s Rowena and at least Sam knows how his speakerphone works.  Sam’s really upset as he answers.   Rowena updates that she’s tried to find Jack, but his energy is too unstable. Sam: “And mom?”  We see Rowena close her eyes and not answer.  Dean orders: “Say it” and Rowena says, “I don’t know what happened, or where she is, but I can tell you with certainty, Mary Winchester is no longer on this earth”

Dean closes his eyes, we switch to Sam and then Castiel (rolls eyes because getting his reaction is pandering, because sure, let’s not waste footage by focusing on the two that are actually her sons).  We get a minute of watching Sam and Dean, and can I just say how brilliant these two are. I mean I have no feelings at all towards Mary, Dabb completely screwed over her character and did nothing to make me care about her in any way, so I don’t feel anything towards her.  But I do feel for Sam and Dean here, but only because of Jared and Jensen’s acting in this scene.

Dean’s quiet for a few seconds, then he breaks a chair.  Sam flinches as he does with loud noises and someone needs to get my poor baby some help for that PTSD he’s been carrying around for the last few years.  

Sam (to Dean): So, what do we do?

This isn’t Sam Winchester, the hunter, this is Sam Winchester, the little brother, looking to his big brother to have some answers, because he’s completely lost.

Dean: What we always do when we lose one of our own, we fight, we fight to bring them back.

Wait, what? Seriously?  Are we retconning that narrative now too?  I’m starting to suspect that Dabb hates the special bond and his personal mission has been to break it. Kripke we need you back, stat!!!! An untalented petty little man is ruining your legacy!

Sam asks “How… Billie? Dean says Rowena, she’s got the book of the damned and can resurrect Mary.  Cass says they don’t even know where your mother is.  

Dean (angry): Then go to heaven and find her!

In direct contrast to Mary last week, Sam knows how to deal with someone on edge.  He knows when to keep quiet and he does as Dean walks out, telling Sam to tell Rowena that they are on their way.

Rowena is working on something when the boys arrive.  But it’s not the boys, its Jack.  He admits he killed Mary, but it was an accident.  He asks for her help, but Rowena says the magic she uses on herself, only works if it’s prepared in advance (i.e. before death).  Jack asks about the book.  Rowena says there is a spell, and starts to talk about it, but when Sam and Dean arrive, Jack realises that Rowena has been stalling.  Jack disappears with Rowena, just as Sam kicks down the door – which was hot by the way.

Castiel is at the children’s sandpit that leads to heaven.  No one is guarding it, he calls for Naomi.

Jack and Rowena appear in the bunker, Jack passes an area on the wood floor which has marks on it. He has a flashback which shows a knife being thrown into the floor.  Mary is teaching him knife skills.  He keeps dropping the knife,  Mary tells him he’s doing well though.  Jack says when they get Dean back, Dean is going to kill him (for the holes in the bunker floor).  Mary pulls the table over to cover the marks and says, “For what?”

This is a cute moment, and this is another thing I hate about Dabb.  The writers are capable of writing characters, they just choose not to do it until they need to go for a cheap moment like Mary dying.  It’s just bad writing.  If they had done their job properly, all of these would have been real flash backs to real moments and we would all be genuinely sad (or kind of sad, given that Dabb has also ruined the meaning of death). 

We see Sam arrive and he hangs back until Jack leaves, which concerns me that he’s avoiding Jack. Also, Bearded!Sam alert – when was this filmed?!  He asks Mary how Jack’s training is going.  He tells her he feels bad as he doesn’t feel he’s been there for Jack since he’s been so busy looking for Dean.  Sam apologises for laying his problems on her.  Mary: “No, are you kidding, it’s nice knowing I’m not the only one.  [Sam frowns] with parental guilt.”  She tells him that parenting is always a struggle, you always feel like you are failing, then you look at them and somehow, they’re amazing, somehow they’re literally… [Mary grabs Sam’s chin because he looked away]… the bravest, kindest, most heroic men on the planet.

Right, as I mentioned a few minutes ago, if this had been a real flashback, and death hadn’t been cheapened by Dabb, I’d have been very upset right about now if this had been the version that Mary had been allowed to develop into. Where tf was this when we were getting the crap we’ve been getting?  As it is, I feel nothing – actually not true, I feel very angry at how crap Dabb is and what he’s done to my show.

Actually, the one bit I liked about this, which I mentioned in a separate post, was the flashback that Jack was having led into the flashback that Sam is having, and I like that transition between them.  

Anyway, back at Rowena’s and Dean’s still angry.  Jack’s got Rowena and the Book of the Damned and they’ve got no way of keeping up with Jack when he’s got wings.    Sam’s a good brother and stays quiet, just letting Dean get it off his chest.

Dean is still pissed at Cass and says he should have told them as soon as he saw Jack go all… (no idea what he says here) … on a stupid freaking snake.

Sam is a good brother and stays quiet, just letting Dean get it off his chest.  

Sadly no, that’s not what happened.  Sam once again defends Castiel, saying it wasn’t just him.  That they also knew that Jack was dangerous, they always knew. “You more than anyone, I mean from the very beginning you knew…”

Oh, so we’re going down that route now?  The route that has to end with Dean always being right and everyone else being wrong. I thought we’d moved on from that, but okay, no.  

Hammering my keyboard, we move on as Sam continues, “But you know we fell for him because he had a good heart, and a good soul… then he didn’t… And that’s on me too, by the way.  I mean I’m the one who made the call to bring him back.  He didn’t ask for that, I decided for him.  And you warned me.”

Dean: You didn’t know, okay… we didn’t know.

Sam: Exactly, we didn’t know, but… he’d become our family (I’m losing count, is this the second or third mention of family in a single episode?)

Sam: You know, after Maggie and the other hunters…died, I just left, just… dumped Jack on Cass and left.  I knew, I mean I knew something… was gonna… I just didn’t know it would be this.

I think Sam looks at Dean here, expecting him to explode at him, the same way he did Castiel earlier, but Dean doesn’t.  He admits that he did too and it’s a nice moment between them.

Back to Rowena and Jack.  Jack’s impatient for the spell.  Rowena says the ingredients are simple but need to be compounded precisely.  She tells Jack she could have fought him back at her flat.  Jack doesn’t ask the obvious question “flat?” which disappoints me.    I think she’s starting to get through to Jack, but Nick hallucination appears and he’s as annoying as Lucifer with the constant badgering.  He tells Jack that trying to bring Mary back isn’t going to work.   Rowena notices there’s something wrong with Jack (looking and talking to something imaginary), but she finishes the spell ingredients. Jack tells Nick to shut up, then asks Rowena if the spell is finished.  Rowena tells him it is, but they need the last thing, which is Mary’s body.

Back to Castiel – I’d forgotten about him – he’s still at the sandpit, calling for Naomi.  He refuses to go anywhere until he speaks to her. Duma appears and she’s one of my favourite angels after Zachariah, because like him, she tells it how it is, and I appreciate the honesty.  Duma tells him that Mary Winchester is happy, she’s in heaven, a “special” heaven. (me: oh fuck, here we go, Dabb will retcon Sam and Dean’s soulmate heaven as a final fuck you to the brother fans).  “Mary Winchester is complete.  You and the Winchesters may not be, but she is.” (hmmm, not sure about this line).  

Jack takes Rowena to Mary’s “body”, which is a pile of ash.  She tells him she can’t make it work.  Because Rowena can’t help him, Jack shoves her back to her “flat.”  I think that’s a little progress over the previous episode since he didn’t flame grill her.

Rowena is pissed, she calls Sam and Dean to tell them they need to stop Jack as she fears he’ll bring something terrible back instead of Mary.

Jack gathers some ash to perform the ritual.   He’s part way through when he sees the Impala approach.  He uses his powers to stall the car.  Unfortunately for him, Sam and Dean are within running distance of the cabin.   The spell finishes and Mary’s body is returned, just as Sam and Dean arrive.  

Jack looks devastated as he tells them it didn’t work.  We hear the flap of wings and he’s disappeared.  Dean runs to Mary as Sam approaches more slowly. Dramatic music as Sam kneels down beside Dean.  We see Dean’s flashback in the car with Mary and at first I thought it was a poxy flashback compared with everyone else, but then I remember this is Dean’s flashback, this is what made Dean happy, this is what Dean has always wanted, his family (Sam, Mary and John) around him. That’s what his one wish with the pearl was.  This is why it annoys me when I read meta that Dean’s arc is to realise he’s sacrificed his life and he’s going to stop doing that (i.e. let Sam die) and go live his happy life with the angel.  No, that isn’t who Dean is, Sam has never been an obligation or a job to Dean, Dean’s face shines when he’s taking care of his family, that’s what brings him enjoyment and we see that in this scene with Mary, just having her in his life brings him joy.  

I like how Sam is comforting Dean in this scene.  This is what siblings do, in that moment Dean needed Sam more than Sam needed Dean and Sam steps up and provides it, even though he too is grieving.

Jack’s on his own, but not for long.  Hallucination Nick is by his side, telling him that there’s no going back.  Castiel, Sam and Dean will never trust him again. He tells Jack: “You can never trust them.” Which given the dramatic music, is an anvil for an upcoming episode.

Sam’s looking through family pictures when Castiel arrives.  He tells Sam that Mary is in heaven and that she’s at peace.  Dean arrived at the tail end of the conversation but stays off to the side.    Castiel tells them that he saw Mary’s heaven and she’s happy.  (I like the 2 dates on the door, someone has already made a joke about Dean and Sam’s doors.  Like what on earth was Dean’s door like during Mystery Spot?)

Question for Castiel, if Mary is with John, then why is his name not on the door or does he have his own door that interconnects with Mary’s room?  

He tells them Mary is with John, that there’s no sorrow or guilt, just joy.

Sam tells Castiel and Dean that Rowena thinks Jack just brought back a shell, a replica, incapable of holding life.  Sam asks once again, what are they supposed to do now.

Dean: What we always do.

Sam closes his eyes, he knows what Dean’s talking about.

Now, if I was a shipper, desperate for proving my ship, I’d point out the clear separation between Dean and that of Castiel and Sam in this scene.  Sastiel for the win, and once again, you guys totally deserve it.

What they always do turns out to be a lot more accurate this time.  They’ve built a funeral pyre to burn the fake body.  I don’t understand why Castiel is there, I personally think it was just a moment for Sam and Dean, but Dabb is intent on ruining the show entirely, pushing Castiel into everything, even though he can’t feel a fraction for Mary that Sam and Dean do.  He’s just awkwardly standing there.  

Sam steps up to put a picture on the pyre.  We get some more flashbacks of Mary again and I’m feeling… well I’m still feeling absolutely nothing but anger at Dabb to be honest.

Castiel looks at Dean and makes a move to go to him, but Sam puts his arm out, very clearly “You go near my brother and I’ll kill you.”  Not really, but he does stop Castiel and tries to smile in reassurance, kind of “give him time.”  

Dean is once again kind of standing on his own in this scene, with Castiel and Sam slightly off to the side.

That’s it. That’s the end of this episode!  

I wish!

Because we go back to the bunker and the camera glides over the table and MW initials have been added to that of Sam and Dean, and seriously fuck you Dabb.  Fuck you for taking everything that was amazing and special about the unique bond between the brothers and what those initials mean, and crapping all over it.  Others disagree, but that’s fine.

Onwards to the next episode where I think Sam will have to choose between Dean and Jack.  Kind of like Season 4, where he was forced to choose between Dean and Ruby, even though he wanted both.  Maybe he’ll get both this time around and Jack won’t be evil?

I’ll finish with this line from Dean to Sam in next weeks promo:  “We need to stop Jack... but here’s the deal, we’ve both got to sign off on it.”

[beardyallen]

Well, that went quickly...

What day is it? I’m starting to lose track of how long I’ve been here...

Well, it’s been a week since my last post, and it seems that a lot must have happened, but honestly I feel like I’ve just been cranking through a bunch of comic books.

But I do know that Friday and Saturday involved a good deal excitement, so I guess we had might as well pick up pretty much where we left off!

Last Friday was Orientation for ICB, which meant getting all of the 35-40 instructors, 10 staff members, and the 6-8 people in charge of this program together in a room to introduce us to...basically what we’d been doing all that week. Also, aside from a couple study-abroad-undergrads and my officemate and me, everyone there had probably already heard the spiel.

It was scheduled from 5p-6p with a buffett afterwards, but a bunch of the Communications people from my floor were going out to eat (again?) afterwards, so I made plans with NR. She wanted to try this Mexican restaurant in what I’ll describe as the “international district” of Beijing. Most everything around us when we got there looked like it belonged in literally every metropolitan area in the world. Every major brand you can imagine had a store. Multiple. Too many...

But the Mexican restaurant we visited is owned and managed by a Mexican expat, apparently. He even stopped by our table to ask how the food was, and let me tell you: that quesadilla was the BOMB!!! And the margarita was pretty good (not as good as MHO’C’s, though!). By the time we finished up dinner, it was kind of late, so we wondered around the shopping center, found a bookstore. You know: the usual.

Fun fact: when a store or restaurant wants to indicate to their patrons that they are getting ready to close, they play smooth jazz and turn the lights down. Like for real. Had their not been windows open to the pavilion outside with it’s hundreds of light displays, I would have been seriously concerned when the lights in the place just went out and Kenny G popped up on the speakers.

We entertained the idea of finding the cinema nearby to see Alita Battle Angel, but during the 15 minutes that we spent wondering around in search of the complex, it seemed to elude us. Plus it was getting close to that time when the subway shuts down, and I wasn’t exactly hankering for a taxi ride this early in my stay....if at all.

The next morning, I got up early to meet back up with NR at the National Museum near the Forbidden City. Now, for the most part, the stairs I get don’t bother me. But I will say, if you’re going to stair at the pasty white guy with a hard-to-describe-its-color-accurately-beard, maybe don’t do it when you’re going 15 mph on a bike, facing in the wrong direction! *sigh.....Some people’s kids...

But what really bothered me, especially at the time, was the father-of-three who straight-up filmed me on his phone from 5 feet away for a solid 6 minutes, three hallways, and two escalators! I get it, I’m funny looking. But I really think I a picture would have done just fine...

One of the things that bothered me the most about that experience was that (a) he had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, (b) his daughters seemed rather embarrassed, (c) he filmed me with the screen aimed at me so I could watch myself on his phone, (d) there was text on the screen, and (e) it went on for a solid 6 minutes.

In hindsight, I was wearing sunglasses and a hat, in a subway system, in the morning, heading to the center of Beijing. Maybe he thought I was a celebrity? I had spoken to a Communications graduate student the other day who happens to be black, and he told me the story of how a citizen here pull out their phone with a picture of Samuel L. Jackson on it, and gestured to him as it to ask if it were him...even though SLJ is for sure at 70 years old and this kid is no more than 35. And he looks 25. #smh

Anyway, after dealing with whatever the hell that was, I got to visit the museum! They, for whatever reason, were not allowing people to bring their charging blocks into the museum (external battery that you can use to charge your cell phone and other devices on-the-go), but more surprising to me was just how many people carried one with them! At least, it was surprising until I took a moment to think about it. As I’ve mentioned before, basically every payment made in Beijing is through WeChat, which needs internet access, so I guess it shouldn’t be too surprising. You also really can’t navigate through the city with some sort of Maps app; there are just too many bus routes, train routes, terminals and stops to keep logged in your head.

As far as the museum itself goes, the gifts to China from foreign governments exhibit and the Ancient China exhibit themselves took most of the day. Also, no surprise: the gift that took up the most floor space was given by a U.S. President. I also got a refresher in 8th Grade Social Studies. Too many small countries to remember all of them, and that space made me feel somewhat moronic.

The Ancient China exhibit was exceptional, though. They broke up the last, oh...750,000 years of human-ish life in China into 8-10 separate eras, the first few cataloguing the life and evolution of Homo erectus pekinensis into Homo sapien, while the latter eras were segregated dynastically. I’ve never seen the progression of human evolution laid out in such detail! The rock tools became better rock tools, then pottery and paper, stamps, buildings and so much more! There were even ceremonial helmets that would put the Juggernaut to shame!

It was strange, though, to have all of this knowledge just beyond my fingertips both literally and figuratively. The literal sense isn’t too shocking, as I’ve been to a museum before and know not to touch the pieces, but to have placards written in a language that would take years to learn was frustrating. Fortunately, NR has a never-ending supply of patience, and she translated much of the text. She even quizzed me on several of the characters. I’ve worked out how to write “rock” for sure.

After the museum, we wondered over to a nearby mall that, honestly, puts the Mall of America to shame. No joke. This place was huge! It just kept going and going and going! There was a particular alley that has all of the “exotic foods” that you might see on The Amazing Race, which I haven’t tried yet but intend to, but the rest is mostly-outdoor shopping center. Our reason for being there was to find food (we had been in the museum for a bit over 7 hours), and then sit our fine asses down in a movie theater to watch Alita.

We found a restaurant that served food traditionally found where NR grew up. It was exceptional. And the beer just made it better. :P

The movie experience was something else entirely. I’ve gotten used to watching television and movies with subtitles so that, when people decide to talk to me, I can follow along with both bits. Or if people are just talking near me while I’m watching television, I don’t have to rewind the show. That helped a lot; the movie was still spoken in English, but there were Chinese subtitles. I recognized the Chinese character for “1″ frequently enough, but that was about it.

The movie itself was way more than I expected. I shouldn’t be surprised, given that one of the primary characters is played by Christoph Waltz. If you haven’t seen it yet, you should definitely consider it.

Also, additional fun fact: I’m thinking that most (if not all) showings of major motion pictures here are in 3D. *shrug* Side note: we’re going to see Captain Marvel tomorrow and I’M SO FREAKIN’ EXCITED!!!!

After the movie, we wandered back to the subway station and parted ways mid-subway-ride to head home. The next day I spent playing Kingdom Hearts 3 and sipping some beer in the 3rd Floor Lounge. All day. It was blissful.

This workweek has consisted of four main things: teaching responsibilities, a bit of dissertation work, trying out another one of the cafeterias on campus, and reading comic books. Oh, and beer. But that kind of goes without saying, doesn’t it? There’s a convenience store on the other side of the building in front of the Guest House that has cans of beer. You can buy them individual for 3 yuan, or roughly 45 cents. I won’t lie to you: I bought 12 of them and it didn’t cost me more than 6 bucks. And it’s really not bad, and even more convenient than the liquor store I lived by in Denver.

Anyway, as I said, I’m going to see Captain Marvel tomorrow, then to “W-Town” (originally Watertown...so glad they shortened it...) in northern Beijing, which sits at the base of part of the Great Wall. More than 20 people from ICB will be heading up to their on Saturday, so I imagine one of them will take pictures. Probably ML or S. So you’ll have those to look forward to since you know I won’t be taking any!

Oh!!! I almost forgot the biggest thing that happened this week! Actually, it might be the biggest news of my entire stay!!!

I did laundry.

And I washed my slippers. I’m not convinced that they’ve stopped smelling, but I’m holding out hope that I’ve finally figured out how to resolve an issue that I know humanity has been seriously struggling with for decades. I’m on the verge of a breakthrough, people, I swear!

Anyway, time to finish this beer, read a bit more of Scott Lynch’s Republic of Thieves (WE FINALLY FIND OUT ABOUT SABETHA!!!!), and head to bed. Big couple of days ahead...

Sláinte,

BeardyAllen

P.S. I bet you thought I was gonna forget! After class on Wednesday, I worked out how to make a phone call from here to the States to wish my Mom a Happy BIrthday. Caught her at work, and we got to chat for a good long while. It really put a nice cap on my evening, and it seemed it gave her a good start to her day. Anyway, I hope you had a great evening, found something nice at C&B and enjoyed that glass of wine you mentioned! Love you!!

[canaryatlaw]

alright. I need to start writing and get to sleep. Today was pretty good. My alarm went off at 11 and I was a bit tired still because I had a bit of trouble falling asleep last night (but nothing too bad) so I considered ubering to my appointment instead of taking public transit so I could sleep longer but convinced myself to stop being lazy and just get up. So I got ready, and mapped out a plan to take the bus to the train that could take me downtown since it was fairly cold and I didn’t want to walk all the way to the train. So that went pretty smoothly, I ended up getting there with like 25 minutes to spare so I went into the little coffeeshop next door and got a hot chocolate which I drank until it was time for me to go up to my dentist. I’ve had the same dentist since moving to Chicago and have kinda followed him around because he’s been changing practices a bit, but he said hopefully this should be his final location because it’s solely his so there shouldn’t be an issues there. It was just a cleaning, no big, my teeth suck so there was a little decay that we’ll take care of next week but no major issues so that was good with me considering how bad it’s been in the past. When I first got there I was updating him on my life since I hadn’t seen him in a while and he was like “well if you’re looking for temporary work my boyfriend works at [temp company]” and I was like I’ve actually been talking to them, what’s his name?? so he told me and y’all, the guy I’d been communicating with this whole time and did the Skype interview with is my dentist’s boyfriend, lol. So he said he’d mention my name to him so that was cool. I finished up there and walked down the street a bit to where there’s the Macy’s downtown because I needed a red tie for my Sunday cosplay, and I happened to walk in the right door right to the men’s formal wear section, so that took less than 5 minutes in and out, which was convenient. From there I got on the train and took it up to Target to pick up a prescription and grab a few things. I went for an uber express pool home but the uber app was being stupid of course and told me to wait on the wrong side of the street so when the car pulls up to the other side I’m stuck waiting for the light and when I finally get over there and am like 10 feet behind the car trying to get his attention he fucking drives away and cancels the trip and I was like UGH WTF so that was super frustrating but I made sure I didn’t get charged the cancellation fee for it because it clearly wasn’t my fault. So I called another uber which I had to walk back across the street for, but thankfully that one worked out much better and the driver was really chill. Got home and put some stuff away, then started packing for this weekend. My backpack always ends up being stuffed to the max no matter what I’m taking with me, it’s always a struggle lol but I make it work. After I was mostly done with that I was just sitting on my bed with my laptop when I got a message from Jess asking if I wanted to get food (cheese curds, specifically) because she’d decided to skip her Kpop dance class tonight and was craving them. So once she got home from work she walked over and I met up with her, and we went to one of the close by places we like (the one that had had the open mic comedy night that we got stuck in for like 3 hours lol. so that was good, I always end up getting full on the cheese curds and mac and cheese bites that I barely eat my actual food, but my meal was pretty small so it worked. Once we were done there we headed back to our respective apartments with a plan for her to come over tomorrow morning in an attempt to use multiple computers to get BTS tickets while I’m doing my phone interview, lol. So that should be interesting. Got home, remembered Brooklyn 99 was on and tuned into that just a few minutes late, and it was truly a fucking excellent episode, they do such a good job of handling sensitive subjects very delicately and with their due respect while also making a fucking hilarious show, and that was on display in tonight’s episode more than ever before, I think. Definitely more serious than most, but it was still a damn good episode and their storyline was really well done, so hats off to them. Once that was over I decided to watch Blindspot from like two weeks ago that I apparently never watched, which was actually quite good. I then watched Riverdale from this week and like, y’all, I know this show has always been complete trash but this week’s episode was SO fucking bad it was honestly painful to watch. It’s just so way beyond any sense of reality that it hurts your brain to even see it. Smh. By the time I finished with that Jimmy Fallon was on and it was said in a commercial earlier that he was going to have John Mulaney on so I stuck around for that, they ended up doing a truth/lie game with the two of them and Pete Davidson where each person has two envelopes, one with a true statement and one with a false statement, the other people get to pick which one, and then they have 60 seconds to question the person to figure out if it was true or not, and honestly it was so fucking funny. It was great when Jimmy read his and Pete was just like “yes, it’s true, done” and Jimmy was like “you have to ask questions!!!” and of course he was right, it was true, so that just made it all the more funny. I highly recommend watching the clip on youtube if you didn’t see it. And yeah, after that I started getting ready for bed and procrastinated and all that good stuff and eventually I got here. Tomorrow we got the phone interview, then we’re probably gonna make a Walgreens run to grab a few things, then head to the airport absurdly early because it’s an international flight and Jess’ airport anxiety is going to be through the roof (I’m not complaining or trying to shade her, it’s just the truth) so we have to make sure that’s all handled, and for those reasons I should be getting to sleep since it’s now 2 am. Goodnight dears. Happy Friday.

[moonxtokki]

I Choose You

The weather was scorching hot as Synx rolled on his bed from corner to corner. He thought maybe, just maybe he will find a position that is cooling and would be able to fall asleep again. However, no matter in what position he is in, it’s still hot. He got up and sat on his bed as he sighed loudly. He unlocked his phone as he saw a notification from Piper a few minutes ago.

From: Piper

To: Synx

GUESS WHO JUST CAUGHT A SHINY GENGAR! ME BITCH I CAUGHT IT!

Right, how can he forget that there’s a shiny event today? Surely he should have remembered with how Piper was bugging him about it ever since last week. Synx likes to say that he’s a big fan of Pokemon GO and he is doing his very best to collect all of the Pokemon to complete his Pokedex. Although in the beginning, he never did see the fun in the app and proceeded to ignore the hype of it. Piper, however, was very…fanatic about it. She would show off to Synx the number of Pokemons she collected and how far she traveled for a certain Pokemon. She prided on how her Pokemon is defending a gym and never had a loss. Therefore, naturally, Synx was curious and gave it a go. The moment he threw his first Pokeball, he knew he was going to be sucked in on this hype and honestly he sort of understood why.

He looked at the phone again to see that it’s already 11:35 am.

“Shit, I’m late.” His eyes were wide as he flung his blanket away and ran to the bathroom. He showers as quick as he could, even almost slipped in the bathroom. He was late to a study session which is supposed to be at 12. Another notification pinged as he hurriedly put on his pants.

From: Piper

To: Synx

So have you met up with Ash yet? You’re not replying so that means you either haven’t woke up or you’re being the late idiot that you are.

Synx rolled his eyes at the text and reminds himself to delete all of Piper’s Pokeball on the app when he has the chance. He grabbed an energy bar from the fridge and bolted out the door. He rounded the corner and managed to catch the bus. The bus was a bit crowded but he managed to find himself a seat and plopped down near the window. The phone pinged again and he knew it would be from Piper. He put his phone away as he tears off the wrapper of the energy bar. He took a bite of it and he could taste chocolate and nuts in the mix. It could be Scre’s but he could buy him another one anyways. Although, he will get an earful from his hyung if he knew he was late to his study session.

This time his phone rang and almost made him dropped his energy bar. He looked at the caller and had a flush creeping up his neck. His heart thumped lightly as he watched his phone ringing. He cleared his throat before he answered the call.

“Hello? Synx? Are you on your way right now?”

“Yeah, I’m on the bus right now. Although, I did woke up kind of late today. I might be a tad late today. Sorry hyung”

“No no, it’s chill. I was just calling to make sure of your whereabouts. Take your time yeah?

“Alright, I’ll…see you later.”

Synx hung up the phone and slumped down his seat.

That was so lame. Oh god did I stuttered? I think I sounded normal.

He rubbed a hand on his face as he continues munching on the energy bar.

“God I’m such a loser.” The wrapper was crumpled and kept inside his bag. He’ll find a trash can soon and throw it away or it would end up being in the bag for another week. He can be forgetful sometimes. The weather is nice currently, it was hot earlier in the morning but it fanned out to be warm and Synx could feel it on his cheeks too.

Remembering that he hasn’t replied Piper, he unlocked his phone to read the recent text that was sent.

From: Piper

To: Synx

Bro? U dead? What about ur study date??? I even sacrificed our shiny event for this. We could have gone hunting D:

From: Synx

To: Piper

Yes, I’m alive you dumbass. I’m on my way to Ash’s house now AND NO IT’S NOT A DATE AND THIS IS UR FUCKIN FAULT

Synx might have regretted telling Piper about his little crush towards Ash, no actually he did regret it. He doesn’t need to be reminded that Ash will never date his ass. This whole situation is Piper’s fault anyway, he will definitely delete all of her Pokeballs. Maybe even transferred those new shiny she has to himself.

***

“Have you ever thought what colours would smell of?” Piper said as she studies the colour of a leaf she picked up.

“What the f- No? Why would I want to know that Piper? Finish your homework! We have like 10 minutes more.” Synx sighed as he erased his answers for his homework for the nth time.

They are currently in the library doing their homework instead of being in the café.  Both of them were up late catching Pokemons in the park last night that they well…forgot about their homework.

“Okay, but have you ever thought what green might smell like? Will it smell sweet? Because nature colours and all or it could be like vo-“

“PIPER SHUT UP!”

“SHUSHHHH” They immediately get a collective of shushing from the people in the library, Synx mouthed a sorry at them and glared at Piper. “What? I’m not the one who shouted.” Piper gave him a teasing look. “Are you done with yours anyways? Why you’re bothering me”

“I’m actually done way before you. I did it last night actually.” Synx stopped mid writing and slowly looked at Piper. “You what?”

“I’m done with homework last night. After we caught that Eeevee, I straight away went home and did it.” Piper grinned almost mockingly. The blood drains from Synx’s face as he realized what just happened. He grabbed Piper by the collar and shook her.

“Y-You said you will do it with me! You promised we will suffer together!” Synx whisper shouted in panic.

He could see the mischievous glint in Piper’s eyes and he knows he is doomed. He can’t do this homework on time and he would get an earful from his teacher or worse maybe detention. He still has 3 more questions to go and 10 minutes left on the clock. Maybe if he-

“Um excuse me?” a voice suddenly interrupted his train of thoughts. Synx turns around and his breath stopped as he takes in the person in front of him. He wonders if his hair looked fine. Does his tie look neat? Does his breath smells okay?

“Oh, hello Ash!” Piper said cheerily to the person.

“Hey Piper and Synx.” Ash smiled but had a certain look on his face.

“What brings you here hyung?” Synx said trying not to look directly into his eyes.

“You guys are being a bit noisy here, the students are complaining. Be a bit quiet yeah guys?” The smile reaching his eyes this time. Synx loves that smile, it’s his favourite kind of smile.  

Ash is the librarian in charge of the day and he honestly maybe want to hide in a hole and never come out. Ash must have thought he was being a nuisance but his kind and angelic hyung does not even look annoyed. That made his heart go pitter-patter. His thoughts were interrupted when Piper spoke. “Alright Ash will do! But I was wondering-“

Piper side-eyed Synx and he felt shivers ran down his spine as Piper gave him a weird smile.

“Yes Piper?”

“Well Synx here has problems doing his homework and we were wondering if you could help. Since it is English and we know you’re good at it!” She grinned unnecessarily wide. Synx at that moment wanted to strangle the life out of Piper.

“Oh? Sure, I’ll have a look at it for you.” Ash sat at a chair in front of Synx and started examining the questions.

In 10 minutes time, they were able to finish the problems and Synx felt a boulder size burden was lifted off his shoulder. He has never felt like he wanted to kiss the hell out of Ash for helping him. Could he do that maybe? Would Ash allow it?

“As expected of English genius Ash, that was fast.” Piper was about to clap but was immediately stopped by Ash and then he puts a finger to his lips shushing Piper. Is it wrong for Synx to think that was attractive? Maybe it was wrong, he should stop thinking about it.

“T-thank you for the help Ash hyung. I really appreciate it. I don’t know what I would do without you today.” Synx smiled widely happy that he gets to see this side of Ash.

“No problem, if you need help with your English you can ask me anytime.”

“Cool! I mean… I would definitely do that.” He did a finger gun lamely at Ash and it earned a stifled laugh from Piper.

“Hey, don’t we have a pop quiz next week? This is a perfect opportunity! Ash can help you with your sorry ass.”

“Well I-“

“I can help you if you want Synx.” Ash gave Synx a reassuring smile.

***

Synx got off the bus as he readjusted his sling bag and loads up the direction that Ash had given him. He looks around and started to walk through the neighbourhood. The neighbourhood seems nice and has a lot of beautiful greenery. He had never been here before and mind you he is an adventurer who goes out every night to poke hunt. Suddenly, he wonders if there is a Pokestop nearby, he whipped out his phone and loaded the app. To his surprised, there is indeed a Pokestop near the area and it is full of shinys.

“There’s a shiny Absol ! Oh god, I need to catch it. I have to, this study session can wait.”

He just needed to walk a bit further and that is what he did. Synx thought about all of the shinys Piper has caught and thought that this is his only chance before going to Ash’s house. The map also indicates that the Pokestop is in the same way as Ash’s house.

His journey soon led him to stop right in front of a house with a yellow post box. He was elated and thought,” Aha! Shiny Pokemons here I go !”

He tried swiping the Pokestop logo first but it seems that he was just a bit far from the Pokestop point.“Damn it, it’s in this person’s garden. Why is the Pokestop a garden ?! Okay, it’s fine I can just catch some shiny and go.”

He tapped on the shiny Absol and tried to catch it but to his surprised…he was out of Pokeballs.

“What?! No no no, I have to catch it !” he frantically tried flicking his empty Pokeballs in hopes that maybe his phone glitched. Lady luck sadly was not on his side and his shoulders slumped in defeat. Suddenly, he had an idea. His sight slowly panned onto the house he was in front of and thought of the Pokestop that was just in this person’s garden.

“Maybe…the owner would understand. It’s not my fault his garden is a Pokestop.” Synx breathes in and rang the bell to the house.

“Coming !” a voice from the inside calls out.

Okay okay, I’ll just say it straight to the point no problem. This is easy.

He heard the door opened and he immediately look down to get himself ready for his speech.

“Oh Sy-“

“I’M SORRY SIR BUT I’M ON A POKEMON HUNT AND I REALLY REALLY NEEDED THIS SHINY ABSOL THAT IS HERE RIGHT NOW AND I WAS WONDERING IF YOU WOULD LET ME SWIPE THE POKESTOP THAT IS IN YOUR GARDEN PLEASE.”

He didn’t lift up his head, he doesn’t want to see the look on the owner’s face. They must think he’s childish or just another annoying kid that’s bothering him on this Pokestop. However, he heard a light chuckle instead.

He lifted up his head and watched the owner of the house laughing…well, Ash laughing.

Synx felt flush crept up to his neck and is now covering his face. He has never felt this embarrassed in his life. He doesn’t want Ash to think he’s some lame Pokemon geek fan, there’s no way Ash will like him now.

“Hey trainer, I really wouldn’t mind you using my garden,” Ash said still laughing and was that a subtle wink he saw.

“No hyung, I’m sorry that was ridiculous of me. I’m sorr-“

“What are you saying? I’m not mad Synx. Actually, I’m in the midst of…catching a shiny too.” He grinned sheepishly. In Ash’s hand, his phone was on the Pokemon Go app and it shows that he just caught a shiny Pikachu which is a very rare shiny.

“Woah hyung! A Pikachu shiny is so rare!” Synx in his excitement snatched Ash’s phone out of his grasp to marvel at the rare shiny.

“Um...Synx can you-“

“Hyung ! I can’t believe you caught this! Can I screenshot this? I have to sho-“ Synx stopped mid-sentence when he saw the Pikachu’s nickname.

“Wait…that’s my name.” He slowly lifted his head to look at Ash. His cheeks felt hot but Ash looked embarrassed too or maybe shy? His cheeks also had a tint of red and he was biting his inner cheeks.

“Well…I guess you caught my heart?”

[delcat177]

My Dinner With Garfield: An AppVenture

Just because you’re smiling doesn’t mean you haven’t drowned --They Might Be Giants, Dark and Metric

There was a time in my life where I genuinely enjoyed Garfield.  There has never NOT been a time in my life where I haven’t genuinely enjoyed free money.  I consider myself a warrior of fortune--you can daily find me dutifully filling out surveys and watching ads in various services that will give you gift cards for being a cog in the capitalist machine, and I’ll put my hand in toward anything promising semi-paid semi-labor.

This is especially true with ground-floor terribly-planned enterprises, which is how I was able to legally flimflam Bing out of $15 worth of gift cards by searching for pictures of animals once a day.  So of course after the initial wave of nausea and secondhand embarrassment over Garfield Go, I was installing it and ready to see how effectively I--and any other card-hunters--could grin and bear my way to some free Starbucks.

The Garfield emulation is so complete that you already know the punchline before reading it, but come along, won’t you?

WARNING: Yes I will be comparing it to Pokemon Go.  To be fair, it knows EXACTLY what it’s doing.

WARNING THE SECOND: I batch-edited these and Tumblr doesn’t like the size, but in keeping with the true Garfield spirit, I’m too lazy to edit them again.  You’re not missing anything.

The first thing I managed to do was break the app.  I disallowed AR, thinking that it would have a stock background similar to PoGo, because that shit eats battery like...God, I don’t have it in me to make a lasagna joke, just let it be said that rather than issue a warning, it went to an entirely black screen.  I fixed it manually and was greeted with Not Garfield on my coffee table, demanding food.  Contrary to his nature, he refused to eat anything I didn’t curveball directly into his dish.  My sister and warrior-in-apps commented on how I managed to land it in on my second try, and I realized I actually had an edge from never giving up on PoGo.  Not a lot of edge, and not enough to get it more than one out of three times, but it set my spirits moderately high.

I did some checking around in the app, and wasn’t able to find much to do while stationary except bake food.  I wasn’t sure what it was for, but when an app tells you to do a free time-based thing, you do it, and I threw a lasagna on.  I was offered the option to bake it immediately for more in-game currency than it cost to buy one.  I had a couple thousand free starter coins but also first-grade math skills, and declined.

The time was ripe.  After trading comments on how janky the controls were (you have to use two fingers in a twisting motion to change the map view, which is one of the dirtiest sounding and looking mechanics I've seen since jerk-off jogging in Wii Fit), my sister and I parted ways and the experiment began.

My nightly walks tend to be heavy on the “nightly”.  This led to the game’s first flaw disguised as a perk: While it’s true that it will gladly put its Pokestops anywhere (they’re Bistros here), “anywhere” includes “your neighbor’s apartment”.  They’re also full minigames, which means instead of giving your phone a quick swipe, you stop dead and play a lackluster Simon expy, because there is nothing less awkward and likely to get security called on you than standing in front of someone’s house at 11:42 at night silently tapping away on your phone for an extended period of time.  I threw the game, got some free food, and quickly moved on before I had to explain my motivations.

Things got dark fast.  I mean that literally.  One of the other reasons forced AR is a problem is that it isn’t built for nighttime play.  Every time I tapped a hotspot, it gave me a “Waiting For GPS” screen before dropping Goblinfield in pitch black, enticing me to appease him with baked sacrifices.  It’s a simple mechanic: If you successfully pitch food into his dish, Gerbfield will eat and then find a chest for you to open.  It’s also a highly broken one.  The food items are all made of lead that turns into rubber on the impact, requiring an unsatisfying Herculean toss to pitch a piece of cake that’ll most likely either miss or bounce back out again.  You get three tries, which is somewhat generous, but the sheer frustration nullifies it.  My frustration was amplified on the realization that GarGo does not allow you to throw high enough to even possibly hit Goobfield in the face.

"Hey kids, wanna see where I hid Lyman's body?  Tap the box."

One of the things that is admittedly sort of clever is having a button to tap to refresh hotspots.  One of the things that is not is not instructing the player that it's there.  I was a third of the way through my usual route before I noticed it and could begin playing again.  I stopped for a moment to relate the information to my sister. She replied that the app was claiming she was ten blocks from where she was and near an inexplicable horseshoe-shaped structure.  I took a side-by-side of where I was to relate GerBo's...relaxed attitude toward geography and also the laws of physics.

Novelty was running low, but I got a boost in determination from getting my first gift card...fragment?

Well, that explained how the gift card scenario was going to shake down.  I could guess how many first pieces of the promised $100 gift card were already being given out and how few of the next two would ever be found, much less that golden fourth, but that was fine.  I play these for the little prizes, not the big ones, because expecting to win anything that isn't roughly 1/80,000th the value they squeeze out of you is a recipe for disappointment.  I kept going.

The hotspots led me into the local Safeway, which happened to also house a Pokestop, and I ran flat against a new flaw: The game is NOT subtle.  PoGo can be played with relative normalcy 80% of the time, since you can turn AR off and keep marching staunchly ahead as you catch.  GerfCo requires either violently whipping around at 180 degrees or slowly turning the same distance with your phone up like a pod person, and I was quickly pressed to decide which was worse.  I ended up buying a candy bar as a social apology for looking like a jerk in a public place and hopefully as an unspoken excuse for being there.  Upon doing so, I realized I didn't have any cash on hand and was paying for a dollar candy bar at midnight in Safeway with a credit card, which made me look like a right pillock instead of a jerk, but now one hundred pennies deep into this venture, I soldiered on, chocolate in hand.

I had noticed by this point that the food system was tiered, so I switched to the one piece of lasagna starting the game had given me and stuck the landing. This gave me a "better chance" of finding the highest-tier chest, but I was unsurprised that it wasn't one.  I was more surprised by what was inside.

I hope you weren't expecting "that $100 gift card".  Ah, yes, Garfield's trademark white fedora, the one he's so known for wearing.  Compelled to take every chance available to make this experience as viscerally unpleasant as possible, I equipped it immediately.

This is why I need meninism.

Things weren't getting better.  The next refresh of the hotspots spawned absolutely every one on the other side of the street.  I was now adding "crossing the road in the middle of the night" to the list of fun-filled family activities GlorpNo had to offer.  I had run out of food and was now using the in-game currency to buy it fresh.  My iPod, which has slowly developed sentience over the years, kept shuffling up Mountain Goats songs.  I was starting to feel distinctly unnerved.

PoGo wasn't averse to getting its two cents in on the matter.

Standing outside of a dimly lit Pizza Hut where the cashier was closing out their drawer and probably wondering if the guy whipping around in half-circles outside the building was planning the world's illest-advised burglary, I won a comic strip panel.  Not a comic strip. A single panel.  Despite the ability to look up literally every Garfield strip ever made on multiple platforms with a casual Google search, I was being given a single panel of a single strip as a hallowed reward.  I pictured a small child working for days for the RNG to let them read a three-panel strip in full, staring bleakly at the one they had in the meantime and wondering if it was the punchline or the setup.  

I began redefining my understanding of the term "liminal space".

By this point, I was entirely out of food, nearly out of coins, and on my last percentage of patience.  As if sent by Jim Davis’ automated humorbot itself begging me to reconsider, I got a notification that the lasagna I had started making an hour and a half ago was done.  I hauled ass to the next hotspot and got ready to make good.

Yeah you all saw that coming.  You know, Globeel, if I tossed a fiver toward a busker’s case and it landed behind it, they would just pick it up.  I know it’s food but 1) you’re a cat 2) you are Garfield the Cat (question mark heavily implied) 3) at least the busker offers a return service.

I need to state that at this point I was actually going to stay with this game, despite my readily apparent feelings on it.  It's not fun, it's not a mentally rewarding experience, but I am by nature a patient person, and I was willing to stick with it for the eventual gains.  That's how you win at these things--being willing to put the time in for the gradual increments to stack up.  I was actually looking forward to going home and checking in on food I was baking and slowly going after the gold.

Then I decided to check what I had earned so far, and the entire thing came to a screeching halt.

Here’s the grift, folks, here's how the carnival game works.  Remember how the system is tiered?  You have to have the highest-tier item to get a chance of seeing one of those diamond chests, and there's no guarantee the piece will be inside.  Again, it takes an hour and a half to bake one piece of lasagna, or else 350 coins to buy one.  You get a small handful of coins from chests and a slightly larger handful if you finish a "trinket" collection, but unless you are willing to devote your waking hours to the game, your recourse is buying your way there.  And...how much are those coins?

Yyyyyeah.  It's Vegas, baby.  You pay to play and the house always wins.

So, friendly fast-buck-sters, this app definitely isn't worth it for money value.  If it was a matter of staying inside and rolling the dice while I multitask, I might be on board for chasing the golden ticket, but GlerbGubler demands all of your attention in public spaces and turns out Sisyphean as a result, if Sisyphus was constantly aware of how awkward he looked pushing that damned boulder. Play Lucktastic, join e-rewards, get into the sites that actually reward you consistently for a reasonable amount of effort.  Your time does have value, so make sure it's honored.

I uninstalled the app on the way home.  Deleted all the data I had, torched it. Stood on the sidewalk laughing, watching it burn, all tabby cat orange and lasagna sauce red.  Then I put on a top 40 station, got on the Hollywood Freeway, headed north.

Never could stand that cat.

[cosmicsonglines]

Pssst, Taxi? … Boyfriend? …Wifi?

My Cuban Chronicles

It’s been 56 years since the Cuban Revolution, and the spray-painted signs all over crumbling, yet vibrant Havana won’t let you forget. Yes, stepping out of the airport and into Havana is like entering a time capsule, but there’s something more complex going on. My friends & I immediately sensed that Havana housed parallel worlds. There’s the world of the ordinary Cubans struggling daily, and that of the yuma, or foreigner, in town on a vacation. They exist simultaneously, yet rarely collide.

Cubans don’t even use the same currency as tourists, they use moneda nacional (MN). It’s worth about 24 cents to 1 CUC. MN isn’t even accepted at any of the places tourists go. All Cubans who are not in tourism have a side hustle because even doctors and engineers make 25 CUC a month (what it costs to get from the airport to the city). Taxi drivers make more than professionals. As such, you’ll find a lot of ex-engineer cabbies. Almost everyone uses the black market to get by, to get things that Americans would consider basic necessities. Many Cubans receive weekly (illegal) USB “packets” with all the new movies and more, to compensate for the lack of internet access.

As part of the emerging private sector (20% of the economy), I found that airbnb hosts were at this odd intersection, straddling the parallel worlds described above. I recommend staying with an airbnb Superhost — they can help arrange taxis for you, get you additional services like a cook, bartender, or masseuse (often the same person), and they can also call in reservations for you, which brings me to a few tips I wish I’d known beforehand.

Top Tips: 

Make reservations in advance if there’s somewhere special you want to eat, especially at the following restaurants:

El Cocinero

Los Naranjos

Doña Euitmia

San Cristobal (where Jay-Z & Beyonce & Obama went)

La Guarida

I found this a bit shocking but you really do need reservations even on weeknights. Old Havana is small and there are only a handful of raved about dinner spots - this makes sense considering that regular Cubans cannot afford to go to any of these tourist spots.

Exchange your USD to EUR at the airport in the states and then exchange EUR for CUC (1 EUR = 1 CUC) at the airport in Havana - once you leave the airport, there are very few places to exchange in the city (maybe 2) and they are very slow.

Bring more than enough cash. American money is ok, but you can’t exchange USD there without a 10% fee. You won’t be able to use your credit card or withdraw money from the ATM. Budget about $100 USD a day and that should be more than enough, not including accommodation. Most meals cost about $10 and cocktails cost $3-4, and beer $2.

Off the beaten path are really cheap local bakeries selling bread to locals for $.04 a loaf and street vendors hawking fresh fruit for $.50. Street food consists of sandwiches.

As always, confirm the amount with your taxi river before getting in. There are no metered taxis. A cab from the airport to Old Havana should be about $25. It cost us $25 to get to Santa Fe from the airport as well. Both trips take about 30 min.

Before you leave, download the Cuba App from iTunes - it will work offline & the map will combine clutch. The GPS will work while your phone is on airplane mode.

Be prepared to have absolutely no wifi. There is wifi in select spots but it's usually a pain to connect.

Take the time to learn a few key Spanish phrases like:

“Necesito ir a…” means “I need to go to…”

“¿Dónde está…” when you’re asking about where something is.

“¿Cuánto cuesta?” = “How much does it cost?”

“¿Puedo ver un menú, por favor? ” which means “Can I see a menu please?” You could also say “Necesito una mesa para dos, por favor” which means “I need a table for two, please.”

To order a drink at the bar, say “Me gustaria un/a … por favor.” So if you want a beer, it would be “Me gustaria una cerveza por favor.”

My shitty Spanish was enough to get us by, but it wasn't enough to ensure things didn't go wrong when trying to iron out the details. This trip solidified my resolve to become fluent in Spanish.

The Trip

Day 1: We arrived in Havana and had dinner at the house in Santa Fe, which is a suburb (consejo popular) about 15 min. west of Havana. I was there for one of my best friend’s bachelorette party & we wanted an escape from the city and not to have to split up the group. So our house was perfect for those purposes. It was right on the water and had a small pool. They are installing an infinity pool soon, which will be amazing.

After dinner at the house, we took a taxi into Old Havana and wandered by one of many bars that was playing music, dancers spilling outside onto the cobblestone street. That was the spot where we got inadvertently hustled by a guy named Lando who told us that, “today is the salsa festival” nah, dude…everyday is a salsa festival here.

He then took us to get the “best mojitos” at an Irish pub. We took one sip and it was apparent that we were being hustled. Soon his friend joined us and we noticed them getting some kind of commission for bringing us to this bar. Then there was the whole Buena Vista Social Club fiasco - we told them we were planning to see the band and they told us they knew where we could get tickets.

They took us to Legendarios del Guajirito. It was some bogus place, overpriced and full of older, cruise ship type folk. AVOID at all costs.

Lando was charming & polite, but definitely a hustler.

Day 2: The one good thing Lando told us about was Santa Maria, a local beach about 20 min. by taxi - free chairs and umbrellas. 2 CUC for a chaise lounge.

We drank plenty of coco locos (coconuts filled with rum, $4) and jammed out with our floatable speaker. Our driver Luis chilled with us the entire day and watched our stuff in exchange for a beer or two (but I think he would've done it anyway).

That night we showed up at El Cocinero for dinner, without a reservation, and it was impossible to get a table. So, we walked to the closest restaurant, which was 1830. That place had terrible “second wedding vibes” as my friend aptly put it. The interior had a retro colonial look. The service was poor and the food was lacking, especially considering the price. I hear 1830 is known for good outdoor salsa after 10pm, however.

Afterwards, we headed to the outdoor club Don Cangrejo, on the water. The band went on at midnight. The singer was so suave and grinded his way into my heart. Regrettably, I can’t remember his name but his selfies (flashing on screen behind him) are etched into my memory.

It was weird that there were all these tables instead of a clear dance floor- people just stood up and danced at their table, or right below the stage.

They say NYC is the city that never sleeps, but I don’t think the originator of that saying has visited Havana. In Havana, the party doesn’t get started until after midnight. The clubs are dead before then so plan accordingly.

Day 3: We explored Old Havana, had drinks and a tasty bite at 304. Then toured the city in an old hot pink convertible, wandered round markets, and stumbled upon a free art gallery with some interesting pieces composed of repurposed trash and used objects.

La Bodeguita Del Medio: where the Mojito was invented and a Hemingway hangout. They play good live music (so do most places) and the Mojitos are the best. People gather outside on the street.

La Floridita: Another Hemingway hangout, equipped with Hemmingway statue at the bar. This is the home of the Daiquiri. A lot of older people, but the tasty drink was worth it.

That night, we had an amazing dinner at Doña Eutimia,a traditional restaurant in Old Havana. It’s at the end of Callejón Del Chorro, an alley full of restaurants, to the right. The food is amazing and cheap and the frozen mojito is the specialty of the house.

We had all heard about Fabrica de Arte (FAC) which is a relatively new art space right next to El Cocinero. It’s a gallery plus music venue/experiential art space. Some dudes said it was 10 CUC to cut the line - I was with 5 girls & couldn’t cut the line without paying, which we opted not to do.

We consoled ourselves by agreeing it was pretty much like a Bushwick warehouse party.

Instead, we had drinks at El Cocinero’s rooftop - so many people from Brooklyn!!

El Cocinero is an old cooking oil factory in the Vedado neighborhood of Havana.

Day 4: Viñales day trip - countryside about 2 1/2 hours away.

Taxi there and back: 100 CUC

We went horseback riding through limestone hills and tobacco fields. Our tour included tasting honey made by bees underground, rum with a special type of guava only found in that region of Cuba, a coffee farm, a lake, and a cave.

(A 4-hour tour for 20 CUC per person; cave entry 2 CUC.) 

We had a true farm-to-table lunch & the best piña colada i have ever had in my life.

When we got back, we had dinner across from 304, at FRENTE. Unfortunately, they had rude service. The food was good, but they’d run out of all the seafood on the menu (we got there around 10pm).

Although I wasn’t able to perforate the tourist parallel world and experience life like a local and I came away with more questions than answers, I still have a fondness for the self-reliance I saw and tremendous kindness I experienced.

[malonepolitics]

What the heck are we doing?

September 30 - October 5, 2018  Suburbs of Detroit, Michigan

Maybe we have lost our minds, but it seems in many ways the US has also. 

Not being very active in politics in the past (voting, of course, and making some contributions to some past campaigns) we suddenly are in the thick of it joining a group of like-minded folks to campaign for two issues and a US House candidate in Michigan. This recent activism is not a very long story, since it only started a little over a month ago when we attended a series of lectures by David Domke on the history of voting rights in the US.  About the middle of the second lecture Linda leaned over to me and said, “Oh-oh, we are not going to finish this series without getting involved”.   Indeed she was right.  Within a couple of weeks we had attended organizational meetings and signed up with the group called “Common Purpose” to go to Michigan for a week. We have just finished up this interesting, a little scary and very satisfying trip.  Here I recount a few highlights and thoughts on the experience.  If you think this might be a typical  “L & S Malone trips” blog, sorry, this is serious stuff.

The preparation

We attended the first organizational meeting of Common Purpose on Sep. 15 where we realized it was only OUR first meeting. There have been many more in the past including previous campaign trips all over the country.  There were a lot of rah-rah “team building” and motivational talks at this meeting, but looking at the group of people who are seriously involved is indeed motivational.  While not really into this sort of thing, I felt the vibe.  Toward the end of the meeting the group, maybe 200 strong, split up into groups associated with about 10 different states to which a trip was planned to help with particular campaigns.  Before we knew it we were talking with Ron, the Michigan trip leader (the only trip for which the timing would work for us).  Linda and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and signed up.  Within a few days we had our plane tickets, motel and car reservations, so we were committed.

I must say that Linda is the main instigator.  I am not so much of a joiner for this sort of thing.  I detest being called on the phone by robots even if a real person is on the other end, and I am not much for knocking on strangers’ doors.  It seems that almost everyone in the group agrees to some extent with these sentiments, but all assured me that I could get over my phobias and would feel good about doing this no matter what.  We attended one additional meeting two weeks later for “training”, etc., and there was again lots of rah-rah and kumbaya stuff but also a very interesting small group discussion.  I ended up in a group of four; one union member/organizer, one previous politician and an older (my age), African-American guy who had been invited to this meeting by his son who is part of the leadership team.  It turned out that this guy and I had something in common.  We had both grown up in the South in segregated schools.  OK, not the same experience, but in discussions we realized that there were more similarities than one might think. As kids we both accepted school segregation as just the way was even if it didn’t seem right.  Neither of us, at the the time, realized how destructive it was.  We made plans to try and get together again some time later to compare our growing-up experiences in the deep South from our very different backgrounds.

The only other preparation we did for the Michigan trip was to read some campaign material handed out and go online to get a feeling for the issues from newspapers and web pages, both pro and con.  There are three state initiative proposals on the ballot two of which we were needed to campaign for. “Proposal 1″ regarded marijuana legalization, which we were not involved with - but maybe could have used.  “Proposal 2” is a redistricting plan to try to do away with gerrymandering.  Michigan has some of the most bizarrely shaped congressional districts designed solely by the the party in power behind closed doors to make sure they stay in power.  This gerrymandering also has the effect of keeping minority party members in power even if they do little for their constituents.  Consequently, not many actual politicians from either party are strongly supportive.  The initiative campaign is totally grassroots and non-partisan.  The name for this initiative is “Voters not Politicians” with a tag-line of “Lets get the people to choose the politicians rather than the other way around”.  “Proposal 3” is the “Promote the Vote” initiative, which seems not to have a lot of opposition.  It is a fairly complicated initiative of seven items to remove many obstacles to registering and/or voting that currently are relatively subtle but effective voter suppression provisions.  Michigan’s laws are nowhere near as egregious as in many southern states but still could benefit from improvements to just get more people to vote.  Perhaps our most important and interesting campaign was for a challenger to the current US House member in the fairly Republican 8th congressional district.  Elissa Slotkin jumped into this race fairly recently easily winning the Democratic Party’s nomination.  With a very strong background in international relations and national security she has recently taken on health care and environmental issues as ones that Michiganders have increasing concerns about.  The poles currently have the candidates almost tied, so a win for her would be a real coup. Somehow we would be doing something in an area near Detroit, MI to help with these three campaigns.  We were told to be prepared for phone banking (ugh) and door belling (scary).  What the heck are we doing joining such activities?

The Trip

Our flight to Detroit left last Monday at 7am.  Yuk.  Fortunately for us our lovely daughter Erika was on a slightly later flight to Pittsburgh where she was leading a national training workshop on affordable housing issues for municipal departments.  She picked us up at 5am in a car-to-go (clever girl) in plenty of time for our uneventful flight. Fourteen of our sixteen member, Team Michigan (motto: “pedal to the metal”  facebook: #commonpurposemichigan) folks were on the same flight.  We rented a car and took two others to our Red Roof Inn motel; very basic (no pool, no spa, no exercise room, no breakfast, no mints on our pillows but clean with a comfortable bed).  Our first activity was a training session that evening at a local tavern where, it turned out, we did not have a separate room as planned but rather were in the main, very loud area at a long table.  Two local campaign staffers came to brief us who were, unfortunately, nearly impossible to hear.  A happy result was that when the pub’s owner heard who we were and what we were doing comp-ed us the dinner and drinks (should have ordered the lobster dinner and top-shelf bourbon).

The following morning we all met at a breakfast place where we had a separate, quiet room and got trained on “Proposal 3”, our first cause, and also on how to use the smartphone app called “MiniVan” (nothing to do with multi-passenger vehicles).  This app provides the names, addresses, ages and a map of our canvassing area and also a way to record our results for each “door”.  Each of our three campaigns provided us with “lit” (literature) and “turfs” (down-loadable lists of 30 - 50 addresses).  One could work from a hard-copy and clipboard form, which the old hands swore by.  However, even a few of them switched to MiniVan when they realized how simple and convenient it was. Training for Proposal 2 and the Slotkin campaign took place either after the first lunch or the second morning.

Each morning and afternoon groups of 2 or 3 people would head out in a car to do one or two (or for the hot-shots three) turfs in a session. Most turfs were in the mega-suburbia of Rochester Hills (white-flight area 25 miles north of Detroit).  I have never seen such expanses of green lawns lined up as far as the eye could see; actually, not so far in the twisty, cull-de-sacky developed subdivisions of 1980s-90s vintage.  Typically we would pull up and leave our car in the middle of a turf and spread out in three different directions walking between addresses listed in our app.  They were rarely every house since they were targeted to voters who were either unknown or undecided.  Those known to be either strongly for or against the issue/candidate were not canvassed since it would be a waste of time in either case.  At first we were under the impression that mostly we were to sample preferences, but it soon became clear that it was OK…. actually expected, that we would do persuasion on those contacts who were undecided.

I was very nervous at first…. and never got totally comfortable, with ringing a door bell and if someone answered (only about 1/4 to 1/3 of the time), introducing myself and why I was there and then trying to sell them on the issue/candidate. Most people were at least minimally polite, some very gracious, even if they were on the other side politically. A few were down right rude and one who came up to me on the street was aggressively nasty; asking if I had a permit to be in the neighborhood, threatening to call the police if I didn’t leave and he would be watching me.  We skipped a few houses right around his.  It left a bad taste in my mouth but provided an interesting story to tell at dinner that night.  Our sub-group of 9 people staying at the Red Roof Inn would compare notes each night over dinner.  We all seemed to be having similar experiences of generally interested, polite people with the rare unpleasant one. The positive experiences far outweighed the few bad ones. Here are a few Linda and I remember:

An older couple (90 and 91) both come to the door.  I ask if they know about Elissa Slotkin.  They say, “not much”.  I give a long-winded shpeal about who and how great she is and why they should vote for her.  They say, “OK, we will”. I say, “what about signing a reminder pledge card that will be sent back to you shortly before the election”.  OK, they sign it and then thank me for the good information. Then, as I am leaving they tell me that now they remember Elissa and were going to vote for her in the first place.

I ring a slightly down-at-the-dumps looking house.  A man comes to the door and the name I have is for a woman.  I ask if she is there.  He yells to the other room and the woman comes out, sees my Elissa Slotkin button, comes out of the house and closes the door.  I ask her about Elissa, and she quickly says she knows all about her.  I start to say more and she whispers over her shoulder to me as she goes back in the house that she is a strong supporter and will vote for sure.  I put her down as a supporter and note that her “roommate” is not.

A refreshing interlude occurred on our last day.  A young man is zooming down the street on roller-blades being pulled by his dog.  As he sees our Slotkin buttons he gives a big wave and yells that he is voting for her.

Some of our most interesting, but semi-scary work was in an area another 30 miles north in a very rural area near the town of Holly, MI where Elissa lives on her family’s farm.  Our turf houses were either along a busy rural highway or off a muddy back road.  There were NO lawns here; though one woman was out on a riding mower in what could have been a pasture.  In a few cases as one headed into the woods to find an “address” one imagined the banjo theme from Deliverance playing in the distance.  All had long drives and many had big, barking dogs.

I head down the drive toward one, and here comes rover barking like mad to scare me off.  I give him a good glare and then a nice voice and he starts wagging like mad as the owner comes hoofing down the drive to call off the dog.  The name I have is for a woman whom I ask for.  He leads me around back of his house and onto his porch.  As soon as I say ask about Elissa he and the woman both start talking a mile a minute about how great she is and how bad the Republican in office now is and how the ranker in DC is just terrible and how Elissa has the right attitude and on and on and would I like a glass of lemonade and I should be careful turning my car around that I don’t get stuck. What?  You are walking?  You better sit for a while and rest up and be careful walking on the highway.  No one does that.  Oh, and don’t go to the guy who lives next door.  Old whoever is a nasty old Trumpest who will shoot you if you come on his property.  “OK”, I say, “so I can put you down is a supporter and old whoever next door as a no”?  The lady then says, “Yep and put down our son, who is in town now, as a yes and our daughter, who is in New Jersey right now, as a yes.  Oh, we better call her to make sure she gets her absentee ballot in”.

In the same area Linda found a couple of old dudes sitting on a back porch looking over the local lake smoking cigars.  They looked to be Bubba and Bubba but were quite friendly.  However, the one not on the turf list says something like, “She’s the one John McCain hates. She looks a little slimy to me”.  But the other guy pipes up, “Naw, she’s OK. I’ll probably vote for her”. After a bit more chit chat they indicate that they are just out here in the woods doing “man stuff”.  Linda, says “Ok, good luck. Have a nice evening” and heads quickly for the next address.  Nobody wants to know what Bubba and Bubba’s man stuff is.

One address I had was down a long drive with a few run-down, out-buildings on either side, and the house on my list is not much better.  It looks as if someone lives there, but it is just a tar paper, tin roof shack itself.  I think it has electricity but hard to tell the front door from the side one.  After knocking both and getting no answer I look through to the back yard where drying on the line are two large and one smaller pair of full sleeved long-johns, complete with drop bottom.  I guess they had just done the family laundry getting ready for winter.  Really sorry I didn’t get to meet the family or get a photo of the place.

This rural turf was certainly the most spread out and took the longest to do, but the reward at the end was great.  We were all invited to Elissa Slotkin’s farm to meet the candidate.  She was running behind filming an ad for TV, so we waited in a screened-in porch drinking beer and snacking on chips.  After a bit she joined us.  Some pizza arrived, and we sat around eating and chatting about all sorts of issues….. actually, just politics.  She is a very impressive lady with energy and stamina that is hard to believe. What a treat for us. She took the time for us foreigners after a very long day.  Even posing with us for a group photo (Elissa is the lady in a blue top, front row, left of center).  We didn’t get back to the motel until after 11pm.

After four very full and satisfying days of pounding the pavement my feet were toast.  Our step counters indicate somewhere around 13 - 18,000 steps a day (5.5 -7 miles).  As many know, I am a cyclist.  Walking is for losers.  Oops, I signed on for the wrong activity.  But still I (and all of Team Michigan) would rather this than phone-banking.  Linda and I left on Friday afternoon but could have done another turf in the morning.  I feel guilty that we wimped out and slept in a bit. With the help of another team member, Richard, who was leaving on the same flight we did a quick pilgrimage to the graves of Rosa Parks and Aretha Franklin and then did a drive-through, tourist visit of downtown Detroit before heading to the airport. We got back to Seattle, and because of the gracious lift Richard’s wife provided, we were in time to attend a fund raiser for “Rebuilding Together - Seattle” at MOHAI.  Yikes, too much civic duty stuff in one week. 

 After I have had some time to recover and cogitate on the past week I may fill in another post with erudite missives covering a newbies reactions to getting out of ones comfort zone in politics.  I also may add some statistics about how many doors knocked, people talked to, dogs kicked, votes secured  (from our leader’s calculations).  In the mean time thanks to the the whole Team Michigan for your companionship and encouragement to us newbies.  A particular big thanks to Ron, our leader whose low-key, but totally organized plans kept us busy in an efficient way but never pressured us to take on more than we could comfortably do.

Also see: facebook: #commonpurposemichigan

Now, it’s time to take a break, kick back and watch some soccer with a beer this weekend.

[russellthornton]

15 Seriously Real Signs that He Wants You to be his Girlfriend

If you see any of these signs that he wants you to be his girlfriend, then be confident that he is serious about a relationship with you.

If a woman has dated a man for a while and reached a point where she’s developed some feelings for him, she can’t help but wonder if there are signs that he wants you to be his girlfriend.

After all, it’s just one of two things when it comes to men. Either he’s keeping you for the long run or you’ll just be a name on his list of conquests. [Read: All the clues a guy is just playing you]

The signs that he wants you to be his girlfriend

The need for certainty is understandable especially if you haven’t had the “talk.” So how does a girl confirm her suspicions and know for sure he’s playing for keeps? Luckily, men have a tendency to display a predictable set of behaviors once he decides that he wants you to be his girlfriend. If you observe any of these signs, rest assured he definitely does want you.

#1 He’s left the online dating scene since meeting you. If a guy has decided that he wants to be exclusive and intends to pursue a serious relationship with you, his online dating presence will go. He’ll delete those dating apps from his phone and probably condemn his login information to forgetfulness. With you in the scene, what’s the use? [Read: How to ask a guy to be your boyfriend without sounding clingy]

#2 You’re always considered when he makes plans. You’re not just a footnote at the course of his day, and the time he spends with you will no longer be out of convenience. When a guy wants you to be his girlfriend, he will actively put you in his map and make plans with you in it.

#3 He values and seeks your advice. In short, you have earned his respect. You’re not just a pretty face to parade around in display but have become an indispensable part of his life. One whom he can count on for good advice on important matters. [Read: Dating vs. Relationship – 14 ways to know your status]

#4 He’s the first one to apologize when you fight. He doesn’t want to lose you just because of some silly argument, even if you’re clearly the one who did him wrong. Either way, he won’t let a day pass without conceding and apologizing so you’re on good terms again.

#5 You get the premium share of his time. He’s willing to go far as to diminish his “me” time, time for his friends or hobbies, and even family just to spend time with you. For him, time spent on anything else pales in comparison to the time you spend together.

#6 He puts in a lot of effort just to see you. It doesn’t matter if he hadn’t had enough sleep, if you’re a two-hour drive away from him, or even if there’s a snowstorm coming his way. He’ll probably brave all those and more if the prize is some time spent with his favorite girl. [Read: 25 signs and qualities that make a guy a really great boyfriend]

#7 He cares about what you think of him. Most men usually won’t give a damn about what other people think of them. Your opinion of him matters to him enough so that he’s willing to change himself to become someone desirable to your eyes.

#8 He’s not afraid to be seen with you in public. A guy who wants to keep a girl as a side chick will tend to avoid meeting in public spaces or do stuff like walk you home. But with a guy who wants to be serious, he will proudly hold your hand, wraps his hands around you, or even kiss you in public. [Read: 14 undeniable signs he wants to spend his life with you]

#9 He’s not afraid to spend a lot of money on you. Money is not really a polite topic in the context of serious relationships. But, the amount a guy is willing to spend on a girl is also a dead giveaway on how he values the girl. This is mostly applicable when a guy is not particularly well-off but still doesn’t care if he spends more on his girlfriend-to-be than he would on a usual day.

#10 He puts your well-being above his own. You may think that it cheesy, but this is one of those clear signs that he wants you to be his girlfriend and it’s true. And above all, it doesn’t get more obvious than this. Guys have this natural protective instinct towards people dear to them. If a guy does things big or small for the preservation of your well-being at the cost of his own, he probably wants you to be more than just a girlfriend. [Read: Does he love you? 20 sure signs to read his mind]

#11 He has introduced you to his friends. Men are the type of creatures who usually draw a line between romantic relationships and friends. Mixing the two can be tricky. If your man is comfortable enough to introduce you to his “in group,” then he probably wants both parties to know that you’re important to him. They’ll be seeing you a lot more at their gatherings in the future.

#12 He wants to introduce you to his parents, in case you haven’t met him yet. The “meet the parents” stage is something guys usually reserve for their actual girlfriends. It’s kind of a dead giveaway, isn’t it? If you’ve reached this point without even becoming official then there’s really nothing to worry about.

#13 You’ll hear that he tells a lot of people about you. This only means two things. First, it shows he’s proud of you. Second, he pays attention to what’s going on in your life.

#14 He shows you the awkward sides of his personality. Men typically put up a tough front in the presence of the opposite sex. They want to be seen as someone reliable and “cool” which increases their attractiveness in front of the ladies. You’ll only get to see their silly and unattractive side if you have gained their utmost trust. [Read: How to interpret mixed signals from a guy]

#15 You’re privy to his vulnerable side. As mentioned, guys typically act tough and cool in front of everyone especially with girls. Showing weakness and voicing insecurities is perceived as against their code of manliness. So if he shares this privileged information with you, then you probably have reached that level of intimacy worthy of becoming his girlfriend.

[Read: 25 signs he truly loves you even if he hasn’t said it out loud]

Men can be playful and heartless at times. When it comes to a girl they want for the rest of their life, they can be very consistent and predictable. So watch for these tell-tale signs he want you to be his girlfriend, and you’ll know.

The post 15 Seriously Real Signs that He Wants You to be his Girlfriend is the original content of LovePanky - Your Guide to Better Love and Relationships.