#weirdly enough I like how Supernatural handled Hell the best

[in-fair-verona-we-set-our-scene]

Thinking about the inherent and almost cartoonish evil of Hell as a concept and how different fiction handles the implication of it being a concrete reality the characters have to deal with

[fullsunalicia]

May I request a werewolf au for jaemin please?🥺👉🏻👈🏻 I’m a sucker for supernatural aus and your writing ‘s are extraordinary!! I absolutely love them! So please?🥺🥺

destiny — NJM

you’re not close with na jaemin, but you know plenty of rumors to give you a vivid expectation. so when he starts courting you, you’re not sure if you can believe him. you learn, though, that it’s so hard to resist a womanizer when he’s as charming as jaemin, and is destined to be yours forever.

jesus christ na jaemin is too pretty to handle. look at that gif omg / hello love! thank you so much for your kind words. i’m glad i can please someone with my writing 🥺 i hope you enjoy wolf jaemin

werewolf!jaemin x witch!reader / college au

Temptation is a sin. So is Na Jaemin.

There’s just that hazy air around him that makes everyone look again. Too gorgeous to be real, and yet he’s standing here, gifting you with a smile that knocks the air right out of you. God’s favorite, falling from heaven. That’s how you’d describe the stunning boy who has been trying for the past few weeks to convince you to go on a date with him.

His face may seem innocent, but the glint in his eye says anything but. You have heard about the many girls, how the shards of their hearts form a trail behind him. Jaemin is easy to please, but hard to keep. Attention is a precious thing, time is money. In his case, time is pleasure. A pretty face may lure him in, but nothing ever makes him stay.

And yet he’s been chasing you for a month now. The first to pick you up from your locker, a freshly brewed coffee in hand just for you. For someone that walks the earth as a god in a human body, Na Jaemin shouldn’t bother to learn your coffee orders by heart. He shouldn’t be the one making you laugh out loud in your least favorite classes and he should not be making the effort to make your heart skip.

Love is discardable, recycable. Never long-term. That’s what Jaemin says. So why is he sitting here, pouting, because you’re denying him the affection he so desperately craves? There are thousands of girls who’d kill to take your place. It drives you insane to be kept in the dark - you want to crack the wolf boy’s head open and look inside, cast a spell on him and make him spill his guts.

Nobody can know you’re a witch. Especially not Na Jaemin, part of the wolf pack that despises your kind. Everybody knows the stories, of Mark Lee and the woman he gave his heart to, cursed by a witch’s envy. That’s why you stay quiet and endure Jaemin’s flirting, and the only reason you resort to investigate the human way.

“What are you doing here, Nana? Be honest.”

Jaemin furrows his brows. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean, baby?” The nickname falls so easily from his lips. It feels just right, because why wouldn’t you be his baby? Who would pass up the chance to taste the honey dripping from his lips, the lies he speaks that taste like bitter-sweet candy? You’ve met plenty of guys who play hearts like a particularly interesting game of cards, but never have you seen someone like Jaemin. Love is like a lottery to him, and you’re the billion dollar prize - the way he treats you makes you feel like the most precious thing in the world, of undescribable worth. You know Jaemin is affectionate with everyone, and yet it makes your heart burst when he cradles your waist like it’s fine china. Carefully. Respectfully. To him, you’re art. Sadly, he’s not a critic - only the collector.

You let him rub his cheek against your stomach as if he’s a needy cat. There’s no use stopping him, since Jaemin gets the attention he desires one way or another. It should make you feel sick. And yet you only pray that he continues playing this game of push and pull, hope that he keeps trying. You’re a masochist, an addict. Na Jaemin is your fix.

The sunlight frames Jaemin’s face like a halo when he leans back and smiles at you. This is the face of Michelangelo’s David, the perfect reincarnation of Adonis. His looks are surreal. Like cut-out diamonds, Jaemin’s jawline seems sharp, but is soft to the touch. Beauty in controversy. Lust and virtue in one. Any angel at the gates to heaven would rip their hair out of trying to sort Jaemin - too gorgeous for hell, too sinful to stay in paradise. “Go bother someone else,” you mumble, desperately trying to break the spell you’re under. Na Jaemin makes you dizzy, and he knows. “I bet Haechan’s going to cuddle you. So go, shoo!”

“I don’t want Haechan.” A loud yelp is tugged out of you when Jaemin tugs you down to sit next to him, and in the next second you’re being embraced. Strong arms curl around your body, holding you close, hiding you away from the world. The most wonderful feeling in the world. “I want you.”

Love has never treated you right. Several nights have been wasted on boys and their white lies, on let-down crushes and unrequited feelings. Maybe it’s because you’re a witch, and bad luck follows you everywhere.

Just for once in your life, you want to be treated like a princess. You want Jaemin to look at you and see everything he ever dreamt of coming true. But that’s impossible. You know it very well.

That’s why you untangle yourself, sad smile on your lips, sorrow weighing heavy on your heart. Love is for girls that aren’t afraid to fall. “Sorry, but no,” you tell Jaemin, and tears prick at your eyes when you stand up and walk away.

You will never fall again.

— ❦ —

Sadness tastes like cheap raspberry vodka and salty tears. Atleast that’s what your intoxicated brain thinks it is, as you lean your head against the bathtub and close your eyes in an attempt to drown out all the loud music outside. It’s not like you to get wasted beyond control, but it’s hard to look at Kwon Eunbin’s face and say no when she begs you to take a shot with her. And another one. And another one after that.

Did it matter to Eunbin that you don’t like alcohol that tastes like disinfectant? No, of course not. Your best friend’s only job is to get you drunk and make you forget about your stupid infatuation with a certain blueberry-haired boy. Rosé wine and cocktails are long forgotten the second Eunbin takes you into the kitchen and makes you play drinking games against the frat brothers living here. Now it’s landed you in the only free bathroom inside this house, while Eunbin is searching for some water for you.

Not like she’s too drunk to take care of even herself right now. You’d bet fifty dollars she‘s already forgotten about you because someone lured her to a beer pong table. It’s alright, you forgive her. But it’s not that nice to sit in the bathroom and ponder over the meaning of your existence alone. Your conclusion of what sorrow tastes like isn’t that deep, but it’s the perfect description of the miserable shape you’re in right now. Who the hell even drinks raspberry vodka? It tastes nothing like that. It’s just drinkable bleach that your stomach barely handles.

And yet it’s enough to numb out the butterflies Na Jaemin brings to life inside you. When you close your eyes, his laughter rings in your ears, as if he’s right here with you. The sound is pleasant, calming. Like good music to a trained ear. This is what happiness would sound like if it were a noise. No matter how Jaemin treats love interests, he’s a good person at heart. That’s what makes it so hard to get over that stupid infatuation. It’s impossible to forget about his advances when all you can think about is him volunteering at a shelter and secretly adopting rescue kittens, because his best friend loves them. You think of the adorable smile on his lips when he’s suprised with his favorite snack, and how he gushes love declarations to his friends just because they thought about him. His kindness to strangers. His loyalty to the pack.

Na Jaemin. End of sentence. That’s it.

Perfection is unattainable, a ridiculous concept. You know that, and you still think it’s the only word to properly grasp Jaemin’s personality.

The vodka is doing a bad job from getting your mind off him. You groan, moving to hide your face in your hands. Is the room spinning or is that just you giving out on reality?

“(y/n)?”

It’s not Eunbin. When you look up, you lock eyes with Lee Jeno. It’s heartwarming how concerned he looks, even if you don’t talk that often. You’re only acquiantances. Despite that, Jeno moves to sit down beside you, carefully putting a hand on your shoulder. “Everything alright?” he asks, voice quiet. You strain to even hear him properly, booming trap music making the house rumble.

It’s ridiculous, but your inebriated brain doesn’t even think about worrying about yourself. Grinning, you point at the boy’s blonde locks, tousled and curled. His girlfriend liked to play around with his hair often. It’s cute he lets her style it. “Since when’s your hair dyed?” You drawl out. Your tongue feels weirdly heavy, as if it’s not supposed to be there. Something makes you want to bite down, but the very small part of you that’s still sober screams not to do it. “Last time I saw you, it was still black. Did your girl do that?”

He laughs. It’s a nice sound, but it’s not like Jaemin. It doesn’t make your heart skip several beats and stutter like a broken record. “You’re about to pass out in our bathroom and yet you ask me about my hair?”

“Yeah. It looks really, really cool. I didn’t think any other hair color would suit you, but now that I see it, I dig it. Good job to the hair dresser.”

“Thanks.” Jeno chuckles, and then he helps you sit up. The many shots took their time to hit you, but now they all mess with you at once. Thankfully, you have a very good friend who keeps you up. “I’ll pass it along. But first, can I get you some water? Do you want to lay down? There’s a spare room downstairs because Renjun’s out of the house right now.”

Fear suddenly floods your senses. Eunbin hasn’t returned, and you don’t want to be left alone again. If Jeno goes now, you’ll probably start crying from the amount of overthinking you’ve been up to. “Don’t leave, please,” you plead Jeno. He pets your hair, like you’re some sort of cat. It’s strangely enjoyable.

“(y/n), you need some other drink besides alcohol. You’re going to have the biggest hangover otherwise.”

Oh, there is no way to avoid that. If Jeno knew how much you had downed this evening ... But you don’t tell him, instead shaking your head. “Don’t wanna be alone. ‘M sad.”

Jeno cocks his head. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t read, unfathomable. Like this, he somehow looks younger. You wonder if cocking his head is a habit he picked up from being a wolf, but asking that would be weird. The man seated infront of you takes the decision out of your hands. “You want me to get Jaemin?”

You don’t know what possesses you, but you nod instantly. Moving on instinct, of course. The second Jaemin is mentioned, your fears settle. Your heart calms down. What is it about that name that makes you feel so much at home?

“Okay,” Jeno breathes out. He squeezes your shoulder one last time, before standing up and leaving the bathroom. Time seems to pass so slowly. Being in a bathroom drunk always feels like staying in an alternate dimension. It’s just God and you now, no matter if you’re religious or not. It’s an unwritten rule.

Your audience with a deity doesn’t last long, though it feels like eternity. When the door opens again, Jaemin enters, the door clicking into the lock as he closes it. “Baby,” he laughs. How dare he mock your misery? “I didn’t even know you drink at parties.”

Your actions are out of your control the second Jaemin settles beside you. Without hesitation, you move to climb on his lap, arms moving around his waist and keeping him there. This is fine. This is okay. He wouldn’t mind, right?

For a moment, Jaemin tenses below you. In that split second, you think rationally again. Maybe you had crossed a boundary. You should’ve asked before initiating this. What the hell were you thinking? But Jaemin bows over you, and then your mind just blanks. You get lost in the way he embraces you, strong body hiding away yours as he buries his face in your hair and breathes in deeply. Jaemin is warm, like a furnace beneath your touch. Wolves tend to run a little warmer than normal people. The boy in your arms seems to burn you, and yet you wouldn’t move away for a single thing in the world. You’re perfectly content with where you are.

If this is what loving Jaemin feels like, you think that the pain to be endured is worth it. This feels like your own personal heaven. Soft lips meeting the shell of your ear. Whispered compliments. Someone chuckling alongside with you when you comment sarcastically. The universe comes to a halt whenever you’re with this wolf, whether that’s a good thing or not. You don’t want to know. You want to stay like this forever.

“Still with me, baby?”

“Mhm.” You hum, repositioning yourself on his lap. Sadly, he leans away when you lock your arms around his neck, laughing at the whine you let out at that. He’s really enjoying seeing you suffer today. Maybe this is why his friends beat him up all the time. You’ve seen their play fights, both in human and wolf form. “Tired.”

Where Jaemin’s hands meet the exposed skin of your waist, the butterflies come back to life. You weren’t able to drown them, no matter how much vodka you drank. “Did someone ever tell you how cute you are when you’re wasted?” he mumbles, tugging you closer. Your breath hitches when his chest meets yours. He smiles. “Now I need to follow you like a guard dog at every party so nobody else gets to see this. I’d get too jealous.”

“Don’t worry,” you mutter. A hiccup makes you jump on top of him, and you miss the way Jaemin silently groans at that. “Nobody wants me, anyway.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Surely, this would make him stop chasing after you, and now you’ll have to learn how to survive every day without the wolf boy making you feel better with his words. The reassurance he showers you with. The many thumbs-ups, his constant encouragement. Though, now that you think about it - this is the longest Jaemin has ever put up with a girl. Is he humoring you? Did he know about what he made bloom inside your chest, and is hoping you choke on the petals?

When you look up, the wolf’s eyes are in disbelief, almost enraged. It’s a reaction that you didn’t expect, sobering you up just a little. “Is that what you think?” he inquires, the underlying tone in his voice deadly. You gulp. “(y/n), you must know about the many guys standing in line behind me. Are you unaware of all the attention that you draw to yourself? How stunning you are?”

The words tug at your heartstrings. Still, you tell him, “It’s never made anyone stay.”

It’s the truth, a truth he’s going to confirm himself. Na Jaemin can’t be held down. He’s the fleeting warm wind kissing your skin, the sun breaking through the thunder clouds to save your day. He’s not meant to be there forever. Witches don’t run with wolves.

You’d give it all up for him. The spells, the magic, the spirits. Toss everything away to offer Jaemin the world. But Jaemin has galaxies inside his soul, and the universe inside his eyes.

What would he want with your world?

Jeno coughs awkwardly when he enters. It’s the only comment he lets slip about the position you’re both in, instead kneeling down to offer you the glass. The water’s freezingly cold, but you gulp it all down, heart soaring at Jaemin’s praise. Both wolves briefly talk about what’s going on downstairs, and you yawn. Jaemin’s head snaps to yours. Seconds later, you’re lifted off the ground.

“Jaemin!”

Jeno laughs at your shocked squeal. He turns off the lights in the bathroom while you’re carried out, and you lose sight of him as Jaemin brings you to bed. Sighing, you rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. You just want to sleep. Forget about this conversation, deal with the problem later. In the morning, you’d let your heart be crushed by the boy who was never yours. And then you’ll have to learn how to survive that.

Jaemin sets you down on a soft bed. His hands cup your cheeks, thumbs swiping over your cheekbones. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says. His tone offers no room for discussion. So you nod obediently, and hug him. Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this, but something just keeps urging you to. To feed into the addiction that is Na Jaemin. The more you consume, the more hooked you get. He just laughs when you kiss his cheek, lets you tug him down so he hovers over you. “Stop acting cute. You’re still in trouble.”

“Okay.” You kiss his other cheek. His eyes slip closed when you dishevel his hair, tugging at the locks in an affectionate manner. The color suits him.

You don’t know why you’re feeling this way. The flutter of your heart is a foreign feeling, as weird as the sadness you feel when Jaemin moves away from you. You’re not ready yet, not able to face the flood. You grip his shirt, your legs wound tightly around your waist. The immense wish for him to lay down beside you makes you feel lightheaded.

“(y/n),” Jaemin groans, but he still hides his face in the crook of your neck. You’re aware he can hear your heart racing at his actions, but you can’t find yourself to care. All that matters is that he’s here. You sigh in content when the wolf kisses his way up your throat, dangerously close to your jaw. “Acting cute is not gonna save you.”

You shrug.

The room is dimmed, so you can’t see the look on his face. “Stop,” he deadpans. “I can’t kiss you when you’re drunk. Be a good girl.”

“Will you kiss me, then?”

“When you’re sober and still willing.”

You tighten your grip on his shirt. “Okay. That’s a promise, right? Because otherwise, I’ll get really, really, really upset...”

You wish he wouldn’t tease you by pressing a kiss to your cheeks. You can’t see him, but you know he’s grinning. You just know. He’s Na Jaemin. “Be a good girl,” he repeats. “And in the morning, you’ll get a reward.”

— ❦ —

Your head feels like it’s been split apart. Someone’s punching holes into your temples, and you wince when you move. This is the reason you never drink high-percentage alcohol. It messes you up so much more than your trusted wine.

The bed you slept in feels empty without a body to hold you warm. It smells like your favorite wolf, but you know for a fact he hasn’t been in this room once after you fell asleep. He wouldn’t do anything without your consent. Especially when you’re under the influence. You long for another hug, but once you realize what you’re feeling, you freeze. Everything from yesterday comes rushing back.

“Oh my stars,” you murmur.

Embarrassment feels very hot, and somehow chilling at the same time. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks, your face turning into a heating pack for the hands that move to cover them. You rarely allow yourself to get so intoxicated in public. So why’d it have to happen in near proximity of Jaemin, so you can mess up and spill your secrets?

There’s still a reward to claim, though. You were promised something, and you intend to get what you are owed as a last goodbye. Before Jaemin shifts his attention and forgets about you, as if you were a star in the sky dying and leaving nothing behind but dust. You can still feel his hands on you, the touch imprinted into skin and soul. Many boys had gripped you with the sole intent of using you to their own gain, but Jaemin had held you like you were the most valuable thing in his life. A treasure. A blessing. With just a few soothing words, this wolf had managed to fill the cracks in your heart with his appreciatiation. It’s not enough to make you believe in love, but it’s enough to finally return your bravery to you. So you can finally step over the edge and fall, to surrender to another person. Your heart is battered and bruised, but you’d give it to him without hesitation.

Life isn’t meant to be spent dreading everything. You’ll regret choosing pain over caution, but it’s better than rotting away alone. There is no way to look past all the beautiful things life has to offer. It gave you Jaemin, even if it was for a little while. In his smile, you see the honesty you’ve been craving all your life from other people. His touch makes you forget about the men who treated you like their servant and not the queen they were supposed to worship. When Jaemin listened, you remembered what it felt like to be taken seriously. It doesn’t matter if he’s going to reject you. Anyone who makes you realize your worth again is a person worth let in. So you slip out of bed and start searching for him.

You’re still owed a kiss.

The house is littered with plastic cups and empty bottles. A peek into the many rooms reveals sleeping pack members and girlfriends, and some friends scattered over the couches in the living room. You can’t find Jaemin anywhere, so you head to the kitchen. Maybe he’s already preparing breakfast?

Mark Lee is seated at the kitchen table.

He sits there, looking like he was waiting for you. Perhaps he was. He’s a supernatural creature, blessed with heightened senses and perfect hearing. Your little footsteps must have sounded like booming fireworks to him. The rumors made him out to be a scary person, and if he wasn’t looking at you with such a blank face, you’d be willing to overlook them and call him cute. But it’s not a boy staring you straight in the face; it’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Mark doesn’t speak for a long time. His eyes wander over your appearance, your body still clad in the outfit from yesterday. The house had been too hot several moments ago, but now you feel like shuddering. Nothing is more terrifying than looking someone in the face and being aware of much they loathe you.

There’s no other explanation for the glare etched into his face. No other reason for him to despise you, even though this is the first time he ever saw you. He knows. Knows about the powers you carry in your blood, the very same ones someone else used to curse his girlfriend. The story is widely known, almost a myth, if it weren’t for the many people that watched her collapse straight into Mark’s arms as her veins turned black. A forbidden spell, and yet it was used in broad daylight.

Mark hums. It would’ve sounded nice, if it weren’t so ominous. “Jaemin’s gone to the bakery,” he says, voice cold and void of politeness. This man can’t stand the sight of you. Honestly, if you were in his place, you wouldn’t be able to either. “He told me about having a girl sleeping over. Someone he likes. Someone who’s been toying with his feelings.”

Your throat closes up. You don’t like where this is going.

He pushes away the empty cup he clutched, revealing the claws extending from the tips of his fingers. You try to remind yourself that he can’t control it, that he’s just angry. It’s hard to do when everything inside you screams for you to run away.

The table creaks loudly when Mark leans on it. You can see the sharp nails more clearly now, deadly to the touch. “He didn’t tell me it was a witch,” the wolf continues, as if he wasn’t aware of how much he’s scaring you. “Though that clearly explains why you’re breaking his heart and enjoying it. All you witches can do is destroy and demolish. Is that why you sent us the vampires? Even though you were fully aware they’d turn on you? Did that not matter to you, if it meant being rid of us wolves?”

“I don’t enjoy it,” you whisper. You know hearts can’t physically break, but your chest is hurting, and you’re afraid Mark is going to shatter you instead of Jaemin. This is what you get for believing other people over the person themselves. If only you had realized that Jaemin was serious; the amount of time he had spent on you, so unusual for a boy of his kind, his respectful behaviour, everything. “I didn’t mean to...”

“I don’t care!”

Mark has finally cast aside the cool exterior. Visibly fuming, he watches as you tremble because he had raised his voice. The wolf shakes his head, then his hands, tries to shake off the anger. Stop the transformation. He wouldn’t turn in his own kitchen, would he?

Maybe you should just let him shred you to pieces. It’s what you deserve for treating Jaemin like some boy without feelings. You feel terrible.

There’s a gaping ache growing just beneath your lungs, swallowing up your heart like a black hole. The feeling is excruciating, almost unbearable. You force yourself to bear it. You deserve it, you tell yourself. You deserve it. The words ring in your ears and in your entire body, making way for the hollow feeling that imprints itself inside you.

Mark never looks away. He gauges in your reaction, the dooming realization of the consequences to your actions. “Stay away from him,” he finally tells you. It’s the last nail driven into your coffin. Everything seems to fade away. “Stay away from that boy. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart broken by someone who’s never learnt to appreciate it. You know that. Spare him. Leave, and spare him.”

As a child, you had once swallowed a potion on accident. Your mother tended to leave all her cups and cauldrons everywhere, often forgetting that curiousity manifests itself in her daughter. The liquid had been thick and had burned, all the way down to your stomach, spreading through your body as the agony swallowed you up. Like someone biting away at your organs, ripping a big chunk out of your heart and paralyzing your tongue. You had been lucky the potion wasn’t deadly, only intended to torture, to coax the truth out of someone.

This is a fresh serve of that very potion. The memory is suddenly clear as day, every detail repeating in your mind. The same fire. The same torment. And you’ve ingested it on your own accords again. You never learn.

“Okay,” you say. It’s not you speaking, but it’s your voice, an odd out-of-body experience.

No one stops you as you walk out the house. You never look back.

— ❦ —

Magic in a way, is like poison.

It’s uncontrollable sometimes. When your senses are flooded with intense emotions, it splinters of your fingertips like the sparks of a fire, just as dangerous. It burns down villages and gives life to dead forests. The earth splits to obey it, raising the ocean and capturing the stars to bend to your will. It eats away at your energy every time you use it, sends you straight to the ground after a particularly powerful spell. No one ever taught you how to turn it into a cure. It doesn’t mend the wounds of your soul, only the superficial ones grazing your skin. Humanity does not need magic to save lifes. Medicine reaches out way further than magic does, tackles the problems more effectively. Scars fade away with time. Wounds close up. But your soul never recovers. It remembers everything, for now and eternity. It is going to replay the moment you abandoned Jaemin forever.

The ground is strangely comforting. You’ve been resting on it for a while now, even though your bed is right beside you. The cold is numbing, keeps you awake. Haunted by the many months Jaemin spent chasing after you, you stare at the ceiling and pray for karma to have mercy on you. How blind you were. Now that you’re given the sight, you’re not sure you want to keep it.

You spent many days counting the what if’s. What would’ve happened if you weren’t so stubborn, so gullible. You count them, once, twice, infinitely, then you repeat. Only the stars listen. They hear the secrets you whisper to them, the stories of your burden, and they guard that secret forever. It’s the only thing they can do for you.

When witches mourn, nature mourns with them. Eunbin watches as the weather starts to follow your lead. Thunderstorms darken the skies for days on end, the blighting thunder lighting up your face. She watches as flowers start to wilt at your touch, how your tears make the rain knock at your window like an old friend. You only let her in at night, when the moon watches over you both, heightened magic coursing through your veins. You’re always stronger at night. It’s a trait you passed on to your first creation, the werewolves. The very first curse you ever casted.

“All you witches can do is destroy and demolish.”

Mark is very right.

Eunbin moves to hold you close, but she could very well hold a desk plant. Or a lamp. You never stir in her hold, as motionless as an inanimate object. Once, you had helped her through a very similar phase. The world had come crashing down on Kwon Eunbin the day she lost Yeeun. Nature had suffered under her sorrow, flooding streets and cities as you had desperately tried to anchor Eunbin in the waves trying to drown her. In a sense, witches are very selfish.

She believes you’re anything but.

“(y/n),” she mumbles. The ground groans below her when she shifts her weight, the old wood barely doing its’ job. “Please talk to him.”

You laugh, but it’s void of emotion. Eunbin can’t recognize her best friend in that sound, the woman she considers a sister. You’re like a poltergeist, born out of heartbreak. “And break up the pack because of my stupid feelings?” You scoff. “Sure. Because I couldn’t possibly be more egoistic than that.”

“You’re suffering.”

“I feel like I’m dead, Eunbin.” It’s quiet for a very long time. You finally move, the life returning to your limbs. You twist and turn, clinging to her body like a toddler in need of affection. She graps that chance, embracing you tightly, her arms forming a cage. If that bothers you, you don’t complain. “Just dead. I can barely feel anything. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me - every second I spend thinking about us separated... It’s a vicious cycle. I can’t get any rest. I can’t stop thinking about what could’ve been.”

Eunbin knows about the tales of the children of the moon. How the moon had turned away from the witches and gave her attention to the ones who needed it most, and she gifted the wolves with all her blessings. The promise of a life-changing love, returned in full. Two souls connected by fate. Kindred spirits finding their way back to each other.

But it couldn’t be. No, absolutely impossible.

Eunbin thinks about Yeeun. She thinks of a big, grey wolf, giving her life for Eunbin, fulfilling a promise untold. And she reconsiders.

Some people aren’t meant to be seperated. Eunbin wonders if a long time ago, someone had written your story into the stars, moonlight-tipped fingers connecting your soul to another. Destined to be with the boy with the unruly, blue hair.

It’s been sometime since she last visited the Dream frat. Maybe it was time to return.

— ❦ —

Never in your life has someone thrown stones at your window. You must admit, the experience is more scary than romantic, and you curse all the movies in existence that made you think this was cute. It’s almost embarrassing that some minerals knocking against glass is the reason you snap out of your trance, but you try and pin-point the blame on the fact that nobody’s ever done this before.

A stone flies past your cheek when you open the window. You almost scream.

“Oh my god, (y/n)! I’m so sorry!”

The voice is oddly familiar - and the instant remedy to your vicious cycle. All the sleepless nights melt away as you peak down and look Na Jaemin in the face, a big smile on his lips. Something inside your soul finally clicks and rests, never moving again. Not until something makes the boy below your window walk away. “What the hell?” you exclaim. “What are you doing here?”

Jaemin spreads his arms. “Giving you your reward, of course.”

Guilt pools in your stomach, almost as overwhelming as the happiness that floods you at the realization that he’s really here. Sweet Jaemin, with the honest eyes and heavenly smile. The one you hurt terribly... “Jaemin, you can’t be-“

“Move away from the window, baby,” he interrupts you. Irritated, you lean away; shouldn’t he be angry with you? Upset or disappointed? He’s not even listening to you, but it seems like there is no reason to. Something claws at your window, swinging in without fear.

Now, you really do scream. The rocks were one thing, but Jaemin climbing through your window? This apartment complex is huge, for god’s sake. Did he just scale the side of the building? “Jaemin!” you hiss. “What the hell...”

You never get to finish your sentence. The wolf boy tackles you, pushing you on your bed as he firmly embraces you and rests his head on your chest. Like he’s supposed to be there. Not like you’ve been avoiding him for weeks because Mark Lee was going to rip your head out if you even breathed in the direction of Jaemin. His arms are locked around your waist, holding you there. You’re effectively trapped.

You can’t complain.

Jaemin hums in content when you hug him back, and he eases his weight off of you so you can move and sling your legs around his waist. He nuzzles his face against your throat, breathing in deeply. “Missed this,” he mumbles. “Missed you.”

You let him tug your shirt up so he can rest his hands on your naked waist. It’s like giving him a gift - his eyes light up in giddiness when he finally touches you, feels the warmth of you below his fingertips again. A child seeing the presents on christmas morning. “Missed you, too.” You bite your lip. “But aren’t you mad?”

He ignores you for a very long time. Instead, the man between your legs bunches your shirt up and covers your stomach with his own hand, as if he can’t believe you’re actually there. Beneath his skin. Holding him close. You would’ve never realized that Na Jaemin would be in disbelief of a girl wanting him, but look at him now. Your heart soars at the admiration in his eyes, and they meet yours when your pulse speeds up. It makes a smirk adorn his lips; he’s satisfied with the effect he has on you. For a moment, he looks down again, to the place where your hands hold his against your body. “Did you know that your little witch friend can be really vocal?” he says, ignoring your question completely. Lips leave a trail of heat down your skin as Jaemin traces the outline of your jugular vein. “She looks fairly small, but you should’ve seen her when she scolded the hell out of Mark. Really funny, actually. Wish she would’ve done it sooner...”

“Eunbin?” you inquire, puzzled. “What would Eunbin want with Mark Lee?”

Jaemin stops leaving kisses on you, sadly. He raises his head to look at you, offering you a look right into his soul. You see where the moon had fallen in love with Jaemin, where the lines of human and wolf blurred. Memories that gather and bundle, a messy clutter of emotions. But beneath it all, you find the boy you’ve fallen in love with. In his eyes, you find salvation.

The blankets rustle when Jaemin moves on top of you. He shifts his weight, gripping your waist a little bit tighter to hold you closer. When your chests meet, your hearts start syncing up, shaping a melody of their own. A few moments pass as both Jaemin and you concentrate on it; concentrate on where love meets forgiveness.

It’s weird. When Jaemin had just been an unknown face, you never managed to read him. Now, he’s like an open book that he pulled out himself for you. Put it on your lap and asked you to read it to him, as if he doesn’t know what’s inside it. In your hands lies his heart. Does he know that he’s clutching yours? You hope so.

“Well, you see.” Jaemin presses a kiss to your cheek. “She came in really calmly, actually. Wanted to see me and confirm something. Renjun was about to call for me, but Mark interfered... she brought herself into a lot of danger, coming to our house when she’s a witch. She did it for you. Told Mark that I should talk to you, and he in turn told her it’s best if you stay several continents away from me... I broke his nose for that.”

“Jaemin!”

He shrugs. “Eunbin yelling at him was pretty nice, but not enough to settle my anger. You think I’m going to let him talk about my mate like that?”

This is it. The explanation you’ve been begging the stars for, the root of your vicious cycle. Your mouth falls open in shock. Jaemin watches, half amused, half expectant. Like he’s waiting for something. “You mean to tell me...”

“Yeah. Eunbin found that out. She came to ask me if it was true. It’s what Mark didn’t know, because I didn’t tell anybody except Jeno. You should’ve seen the look on Mark’s face...” Jaemin halts. Worry glazes over his eyes, and it takes you several seconds to understand that he’s worrying about you. “Baby, are you alright? You’re all pale. It’s alright if you reject me, don’t worry, as long as you’re hap...”

Jaemin is suprisingly easy to push down. Usually, you wouldn’t be able to pin down a wolf, but the shock gave you an advantage. Straddling him, you lean down and finally kiss Jaemin.

It’s the key to your cage. The funny tasting cure your mom brewed for the potion you accidentally drank. If sadness tastes like raspberry vodka and salty tears, happiness tastes like chapstick and chewing gum. It’s the only thing you register before Jaemin flips you over and kisses you breathless.

You had been shy, but Jaemin is ruthless. His canines tug at your lower lip, a silent order for you to obey and part your lips. If your fingers clawing at his shoulders hurts him, he certainly doesn’t mention it, too busy drowning in the overwhelming feeling of your tongue moving against his. When you finally push him away to catch your breath, the wolf feels like he got drunk off of you. “That’s one way to claim your prize,” he breathes out.

A long time ago, the moon had mercy on your poor soul. This is what had been waiting for you all your life, hidden in the looming shadows of the supernatural world. A soulmate, born to love and adore you. Destiny feels a little bit like contentment.

You can finally laugh as the wounds that had been inflicted on you heal over, making way for the only emperor of your heart. “This kiss isn’t the prize,” you reply. “You are.”

[whentheynameyoujoy]

Women in SPN—Is it Really That Bad?

TL;DR: Somewhat, yeah, it kinda is.

This is going to be a series of long ones, people.

Before I jump head first into this giant vat of weird toxic shit, let me say something:

The thing about most of the female characters is that on their own? They’re perfectly fine, ranging from serviceable to the occasional flash of thematic brilliance. Barely any of them qualify as “this is hateful on its face and incompetent regardless of context and the writers should feel bad for ever conceiving of it”, i.e. the normie benchmark for justified criticism. It’s only when you put these characters next to each other that a worrying pattern emerges;

Although discussions about sexism in the media were very much a thing in the mid-2000s, as well as shows with characters whose primary role wasn’t to serve a man’s needs, I can’t honestly claim that the flaws of SPN are out of the norm for its time; and

The first few seasons could really do with a PSA at the start of each episode, something along the lines of “A part of the reason why female characters are killed off or written out with such regularity is rabid superfans who couldn’t abide anything with tits brushing against J2, srsly, the writing team and the 2000s’ fan base were a match made in hell, except it wasn’t the writers who couldn’t do with bitching on their LiveJournals about the gall of women to exist in the show, choosing instead to harass the creators and actresses and wives and call them every sexist insult under the sun AND I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE HAS THERE EVER BEEN A CESSPIT AS DISGUSTING AND NUKEWORTHY AS THE SPN FANDO—“

Anyway.

SPN has a legacy (as a posterchild for not knowing when to bow out gracefully, but legacy nonetheless) and isn’t watched in 2005 but in the year of our Lord Today. Meaning that as time goes by, the issues surrounding the show’s production retreat into the background and only what’s on the screen remains, to be judged on its own merits.

So let’s run down a list of the more noteworthy and relevant female characters of the first arc, focusing on their characterization, role in the narrative, and end. In the conclusion to this series of posts, the sum of characters will be analyzed as a whole to see if there are any unique tendencies in the show’s handling of women as opposed to that of men. I’ll do this for the original five seasons as the recent finale went out of its way to say that nothing after season 5 was strictly speaking necessary so why bother.

(Also because I died of frustration in season 8 and vowed not to subject myself to any more of the post-apocalypse fanfic era)

Angels, while strictly speaking genderless clouds of energy, will be classified as men or women depending on the apparent gender of the vessel they spend most of the time riding. The same goes for demons where I also take into account their stated gender while they were alive. That’s because although beings like Meg, Ruby, Anna, or Lilith can’t technically be considered women in the show’s present day, their consistent preference for conventionally attractive and/or female vessels throughout the original arc makes claims of genderlessness essentially meaningless. For all intents and purposes, we’re watching girls and women on screen.

Baby—the only true NB of the first run

All right, time to jump.

Say hi to our ladies!

Mary Winchester

Killed in the very first scene to give the story a reason to exist, she remains an active presence throughout the first arc where she has a wide-reaching influence on the plot and characters, driving the conflict on several levels. Fleshed-out more and more with each appearance to be more than just “the dead mom”, she’s portrayed as protective, pro-active, capable, and assertive, mirroring the duo’s desire for normal life and their inability to have it. Her story comes full-circle in season 5 when the personal tragedy of her fate is embedded in the wider tragedy of the Winchester family curse and the overall theme of destiny.

Status: Dead as of s5

Importance: Major

On her own: Textbook example of fridging… and that tropes aren’t bad in and of themselves.

Jessica Moore

Comparatively, if anyone doubts fridging can evolve into something meaningful, Jess drives the point home by having no personality and no point but to prop up her boyfriend before she ends up pinned to the ceiling, the reveal of which is the most interesting thing about her entire existence. At best she’s a symbol of Sam’s civilian life, at worst an obstacle to be removed for the story to happen.

Status: Dead as of s5

Importance: Major in terms of manpain, non-existent otherwise

On her own: A cardboard cut-out, barely qualifies as a character

Missouri Moseley

A psychic and the primary reason why John Winchester even knows to wipe his ass. Appears once over the course of the first arc yet everyone wants her to come back years later—that’s how awesome she is. Has this fantastic trait of being compassionate and empathetic while not taking a single speck of shit from anyone, especially when it comes from the two main dumbos who might just as well have been raised in a barn. Is very particular about the pristine state of her coffee table.

Status: Alive as of s5, killed in s13 (wait, what?)

Importance: Major…ly wasted potential

On her own: As strong a character as Bobby Singer, and as worthy of being elevated to the main cast.

Lori Sorensen

The writers can’t figure out why anyone in the universe would care about Jess either so they insert an intentionally awkward romance subplot to convince people the time’s not yet ripe for Sam to stop grieving and start slaying. The result’s… erm… well, awkward. Lori’s naïve, sheltered, devout though accepting of her non-repressed friend, and sort of on a religious crossroads because of her hypocritical preacher father. I guess the virginal power of her virginal virginity does… something in the plot? Primarily a vehicle for Sam to mark the stages of his moving on.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Minor

On her own: A bit done. Like a bit lot. Like a “could be a trope namer” bit lot.

Meg

Boom, baby!

Arguably the chief antagonist of season 1 and one of the best things about it. The first one to point out the pervasive toxicity of the Winchester family business, so props for perceptiveness. Possesses the standard qualities of a lower-level henchman—manipulative, no-nonsense, and quietly sinister which, while not exactly groundbreaking, sets her apart from the other bad guys in the season as they tend to have no distinguishing characteristics at all. Plus Nicki Aycox makes the role seem more unique and “lived-in” by projecting a sense of understated amusement at the two main chucklefucks. Is one of S1’s turning points in blurring the lines between monsters and humanity. Has a face transplant twice—once to have revenge (good on her) and the other time to pursue someone else’s goals again before getting stomped into the ground like a mook.

Status: Alive as of s5 (?), killed in s8

Importance: Major

On her own: The actresses do most of the heavy lifting. Which doesn’t mean I don’t love watching the character burst onto the scene and announcing the end of the Winchester brand of bullshit.

Layla Rourke

A terminal cancer patient in a religious cult, she’s a more mature take on a Lori-type character and the themes of faith and doubt. Serves as a conduit for Dean’s budding survivor guilt, self-loathing, and sense of worthlessness. Is kind and cheerful, with strong hints that she’s relying on forced optimism to get through the days; also understanding of the circumstances of others while realistically freaked about the possibility of death. Weirdly, she enters the episode already in a state of acceptance and leaves it just as accepting when it’s confirmed that yeah, she’ll die soon. All expressions of anger at the injustice and senselessness are left to her mother which somewhat undermines the “struggling” portion of Layla’s character and renders the final scene where she makes peace with her fate a bit hollow.

Status: Implied dead

Importance: Minor in the overall narrative, major in the episode and Dean’s development

On her own: I want to like her, I really do, just… if only she were allowed to get pissed, once.

Cassie Robinson

Dean’s ex and that’s pretty much all there is to her. I struggle to pinpoint a single personality trait of hers—the 2000s idea of a “strong woman” and “not like other girls”, perhaps? Undermined as a love interest because TPTB don’t show the happy or any parts of her relationship with Dean so really, why should anyone care if two sniping assholes with little to no chemistry get back together? Memorable for being in a horribly scored softcore scene which YouTube tries to convince me lasts for shy over a minute, not the week I remember it to. Involved in the show’s first and last attempt at incorporating the issue of anti-black racism.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Minor

On her own: She’s in the racist truck episode. ‘Nuff said.

Sarah Blake

A sophisticated people-person conversationalist with a love of high art and a deep sense of introspection. Ascends to the state of godhood by being able to pull off pigtails while adult. Bonds with Sam over responding to loss by crawling into a shell but deciding to move on. Doesn’t care for your fancy schmancy fine dining, Romeo. Isn’t ashamed to openly talk feelings which includes her explicitly asking Sam if they have a thing going on (honestly, this is such a breath of fresh air for a normcore romance). Despite being scared out of her wits, she refuses to be shoved into the helpless civilian box after learning about the existence of the supernatural; Dean creates a Pinterest wedding board in response.

Status: Alive as of s5, pointlessly dragged back to be murdered in s8

Importance: Minor in the overall narrative, major in the episode and Sam’s development

On her own: A great love interest that has enough writing behind her to fool you into thinking she’s something more.

Up next, whenever I feel like it, seasons 2 and 3!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #383

“the big bully try to stick his finger in my chest  /  try to tell me, tell me he’s the best  /  i don’t really give a good goddamn ‘cuz i got my lunchbox & i’m armed real well”

Ever had a friend online for a long time without seeing a photo of them? Well yeah. Most of my friends are online, and while I've seen pictures of most at least once or twice, some I still haven't. The last time you threw up, what caused it? It was a side effect of a mood stabilizer I started. Any foods from other countries you would like to try but haven’t yet? I'm sure there's something, idk. Do you think the world would be more peaceful without any religion? Yes. Have you ever had a stalker? No. Does it hurt your feelings when people talk shit about things you love? It makes me self-conscious way more than anything. I start to obsess over whether or not the person things poorly or weirdly of me for liking what I like. I just feel judged for liking it, but that's my problem. Do you like it when people give you nicknames? I do, actually. It feels kinda affectionate to me. Do you often find yourself checking out people’s butts? Haha I'm not gonna say it's never happened, but it's not something I make a habit out of for sure. What fandoms are you in? MEERKAT MANOR IS BACK BAYBEEEE, Markiplier, Silent Hill, Shadow of the Colossus, World of Warcraft, Spyro, Wings of Fire, and lots more, honestly. I'm into a lot of stuff, and I don't love in moderation, haha. Are there any fandoms you used to be in, but left? Yeah, like Supernatural, Good Mythical Morning, or Warriors, but it wasn't out of "I don't like it anymore" or anything, I just drifted away. Anything the fans in your fandoms do that pisses you off? World of Warcraft if particular has one of the most toxic fucking fanbases. There are so many goddamn elitists and people who whine about "boohoo WoW is dying" and "omg this game has been trash since Wrath" and yada yada yada and it's annoying as hell. They always find some shit to complain about. Then Silent Hill... ugh. I think people just hop onto the "the series sux after 1-4" bandwagon to fit in with a certain crowd, but that's not the main thing that annoys me; rather, it's the fact the former main admin of the SH wiki made a fucking joke out of us there. He was clearly having personal issues and made a HUGE and utterly ridiculous deal of Silent Hill 4 having heavy symbolism to the main character being obsessed with the bullshit idea of him being circumcised, and it led to a maaaassive thread of us members trying to talk some damn sense into him as he abused his power. He was finally banned by the Wikia staff, but not in time for some gaming websites to publish "news" stories about it because it was just that ludicrous. Now, YEARS later, we still get trolls coming onto the site to try and revive the drama by inserting absolute rubbish into pages or making new ones. Nowadays I'm the main administrator there, and it's fucking embarrassing sometimes. I'm supposed to keep the wiki under control and respected, you know? Ugh, I'll stop. I could rant for a very long time about this. Do you prefer ruffly or regular potato chips? Ruffly. Do you write down your own recipes, or just commit them to memory? I don’t cook. What color do you want to dye your hair? My top three are pastel pink, lilac, and a light creamsicle orange. I REALLY want to dye it SOMETHING. :( How do you like your chicken? Of course breaded (like nuggets, tenders) is my favorite, but I also enjoy is broiled and seasoned well. There's other ways, but because I don't cook, I, uh... don't know how a lot are made lmao. Do you enjoy cheese fries? UUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH YES. Do you eat refried beans? I absolutely hate beans, so no. What is a food you enjoy, but don’t have very often? A whole lot because a lot of it is from restaurants and we don't eat out all that much. As well, my diet is very narrow just because of how picky I am. Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn? Why? I mean, what are we comparing them for? I think Audrey is fucking gorgeous, though. Marilyn is also beautiful. Favorite fictional world? Uh, I dunno. Do you use lint rollers often? No. Do you carry pepper spray? No, but I want to. Has your power ever gone out for more than a day? I think so. Other than a dislike button, what’s something you wish Facebook had? Hm, I dunno. What time do your parents normally get home from work? Mom can't work right now, but I think Dad gets off around 5PM. Are you afraid to ask people out on dates? Yep. Do you think it’s better to look for love or let it find you? Both can work, but I definitely prefer to let it find me. I feel that *in general* that usually has better results. Have you ever found yourself worrying about commitment? No. I'm a very committed person romantically. Would you get involved with someone if they had a child already? No. Have you ever had a rash from poison ivy? I don't believe so, no. Do you have any chairs in your bedroom? No. Did you watch Elmo as a child? Some, yeah. Do you know anyone who doesn’t eat meat? I don't think so, off the top of my head. When you throw up, do you cry? No, but I'm a whiner and will also shake from fear because I have such a phobia of vomiting. Doing it totally turns me into a baby. Who was the last person to carry you? I couldn't tell you the last person to full-on carry me, but back when I tore a ligament in my foot, my mom kinda had me lifted when she would help me walk. Is it easy for you to accept loss? Absolutely not. I handle it very, very poorly. Have you done anything sneaky lately? No. Have you ever had a rolling back pack? Yes. Who knows you better than anyone else? My mom, probably. Would you ever want to go to Brazil? Sure, if the opportunity came up. Are there any medical conditions that run in your family? A lot, mostly heart problems. What band has the best guitar solos? Metallica imo. Who is the biggest jerk you've ever met? She was somehow my former best friend. Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I've never been in that situation, thankfully. What's a charity you would never donate to? I'm really not familiar enough with charities and their practices to know which ones are sketch or not. Have you ever grown your own herbs? No. Do you have any exes you'd consider dating again? Yes. What were some of your favorite classes you took in high school? Art and German. Mythology was fun, too. Do you know anyone with a profession in law? Yeah, I have a cousin that's a lawyer. Have you ever Googled yourself? Yeah, outta curiosity. What's the shortest amount of time you've had between relationships? Like, two days. Part of the reason I left Girt was because I liked Sara. As a child, what comfort foods did your parents make for you when you were sick with a cold or flu? Chicken noodle soup. What's a movie series where the sequel was better than the original? Ha, for some reason Inspector Gadget came to mind. I guess from mentioning my childhood. I was FUCKING OBSESSED with that movie as a kid. The first one's fine, but I love the second one. Does your car have heated seats? Mom's doesn't. What is the strangest pizza topping you've ever eaten? Nothing strange, really. Describe your hometown. What’s it like there? Small and dangerous. Lots of run-down areas. A gang nearly broke into our house once, if that helps you get the picture. What was the last video game you beat? I replayed Silent Hill 2 forever ago. What did you learn from your last failed relationship? It really just taught me that you need to take care of your own mental health before you can effectively handle another's properly and strike a healthy balance. What country does your favorite band hail from? Britain. What’s something on your to-do list that never actually gets done? Finish decorating my room. -_- Have you ever been really passionate about something but then lost interest? If so, what was it? Good Mythical Morning, I suppose. I used to be OB-SESSED. I still adore Rhett and Link as people, they are fucking wonderful human beings and excellent entertainers, I just drifted away from their content. I don't really know why. Do you sleep with the TV or the radio on? No. What’s the worst thing about being male/female (whichever you are)? Menstrual cycles, I'd say. It affects your mood so much, and as someone who's bipolar, it can be very confusing. I like to know why I'm feeling a certain way. What movie has the best special effects? /shrug How many work hours per week is too much for you? I wouldn't know, I've never really worked long enough to figure this out. Can you remember your first day of school? I think I have the faintest memory of it. I know I was very scared to leave my mom (I had absolutely awful separation anxiety from her) and I MIGHT have cried, but I don't really recall with certainty. Have you ever entered a modelling competition? Would you? No thanks. Did you keep any drawings/stories from when you were younger? Most, no, because the level of cringe is LITERALLY unbearable for me. Do you have a safe? Mom does somewhere. What’s the scariest thing to happen to you so far? The breakup. That night was just fucking terrifying. I was so certain my life was over, like the situation was so, so impossible in my head. What was your last dream about? (or your daydream if you don’t remember) My memory's faint, but I just remember I had a nightmare where a LOT of my bones were totally snapped in half. When was the last time you saw a relative? Excluding my immediate family, I last saw my now-departed grandmother and my uncle a while back at a hotel as they were passing through. Have you ever been in a TV audience? No. Are you in any way close to reaching a personal goal? Not really... Do you prefer crosswords or word searches? Word searches. Do you like making collages? Not really. Do you remember any inside jokes from childhood? No. What would you love to learn to do? Digital art, like drawing on a tablet. Do you prefer monkeys or lemurs? Lemurs. Do you watch movies based on the actors or the movie plot? The plot, 100%. Are you more shy in real life or on the internet? I am WAY more shy irl.

[jovialjudgebonkalmond]

Inevitable, Ch 3

Y’all, same disclaimers. In addition to all the warnings we’ll include some explicit drug use today, ‘k? Don’t do drugs kids.

Monty held the letter, his hands trembling as he stood rooted in time. He was still licking his wounds from the traitorous blow Charlie had dealt him. They were brothers, Monty had taken the younger boy under his wing from day one and defended him, fought for him, fought beside him... and he had helped Clay Jensen send him to jail. Yes, some part of him was aware that he was booked initially for messing with Tyler, and the murder charges were tacked on after. But it seemed awfully convenient that Tyler chose the moment that Clay was the one facing jail time to report what he had done.

And, clearly, they had gotten to Charlie. And Charlie gave them the keys they needed to clear Clay's name and fucking sell him out for a crime he didn't commit.

So what could Charlie possibly want with him now. His fist crumpled the envelope.

"Wooooooo!" He bellowed, tapping the keg. "We are getting FUCKED UP TONIGHT!"

Charlie laughed, bringing two trays out of his pantry. His dad was out town for the weekend and although they had lost their game that night spectacularly they were going full steam ahead with Charlie's first party.

"I made brownies." He declared, delighted. Monty stared at him, slightly taken aback. One of the other guys snorted, shaking his head.

"Fuck you," Monty said, rounding on him and grabbing a brownie off of the tray, "Charlie boy made brownies and we're all fucking having one." He took a bite, his eyes crossing momentarily as he groaned. "That's delicious."

"Still talking with your mouth full?" Justin teased, shaking his head as he grabbed a brownie.

"Shut up, I'm enjoying my foodgasm." He grumbled through a full mouth pointedly.

"Fuck, these are actually really good. Good job Charlie." Justin said, passing one to Zack.

"Everyone have a fucking brownie. Charlie made brownies." Zach yelled. And, well, Zach was the captain.

It didn't take long before the cheerleaders, the other girlfriends, students from other schools and students from Liberty who definitely weren't invited trickled in. The party spilled through the house and into the front yard and the back yard like a fountain of youth. The music reverberated through the walls like a united heartbeat. Booze was strewn throughout the kitchen, any poison was yours to pick.

Monty found himself in the backyard, nonchalantly rubbing the leaves on the shrubs along the fence. He couldn't understand it...but they just felt so amazing.. Zach staggered up to him, leaning heavily on his shoulder as he stumbled with his crutches.

"Buddy," he slurred, "Look, I wouldn't generally be talking to you right now. But its my brotherly duty to inform you that somebody is attempting to beat your record at Edward 40hands."

Monty gasped incredulously, dropping the leaf and putting his hand to his mouth.

"Noooo way, that's FUCKING SACRILEGE!"

Zach nodded solemnly.

"It is absolutely." He agreed, running his hand over Monty's flannel. "Damn buddy, this is soft."

"Walmart man, walmart."

"Ew." Zach sneered, pushing off of him and staggering off in a zig-zag. "Time to defend your title."

Monty followed him, shuffling his feet along the dewy grass. It was like a gigantic shag carpet that covered like the entire earth. Mind blowing.

"This is some bull SHIT!" He declared, grabbing two bottles of the malted beer. Zach taped them to his hands and opened them. The other boy, who was from another school, laughed.

"I am going to beat you, de la Cruz."

"That's what your dad said last night after I fucked your mom." Monty countered, letting out a delighted giggle.

"What are you, 8?" Foley said, shaking his head. Monty just laughed harder, he never seemed to mind when he was the only one laughing at his jokes.

"3... 2....1!" Zach yelled. "CHUG!"

Monty snapped to attention and began to chug, feeling the weirdly soy sauce tasting beer froth heavily in his gut. He managed to finish one in 4 seconds. The other guy was hot on his tail with about a quarter left. He felt like a marionette on tangled strings that  toddler had decided to hold in the air and spin.

He staggered and belched, grateful he didn't vomit, yet. It was wet and close.

"Hoooooo!" He crowed, seeing the other guy finish his first one. He pounded his second one back, tilting his head back and staggering until he was standing on only one foot.

"Monty's gonna barf. He always does, eventually. Usually after breaking a bunch of shit and one or two faces." Justin warned Charlie. Charlie shrugged.

"That's fucking masterful." The taller boy said in awe. Monty finished the second one even faster. He pumped his fist in the air with the bottle still on it and yelled a battle cry into the night sky.

"I AM THE FUCKING CHAMPIOOOOOOOONNNNNNN!" He crowed, tripping over his own feet. He felt the air rush passed his face and he started to giggle once more. It tickled.

"Oops, careful." Charlie muttered in his ear, arms looped under Monty's left bicep while Zach held on to his right, laughing.

"The champion of knocking yourself out." He jested, cutting the tape off of his hands.

"Are you sober enough to be handling scissors right now, Zachy?"

"Absolutely not."

"Please don't do a Hannah on my wrists."

"That's not funny asshole."

"Its kind of funny."

"Fuck you Monty."

Monty laughed. "Is that all you fuckers have to say to me now? Fuck me?"

"Yes." Justin interjected, helping Zach and Charlie haul Monty to his feet. Monty held on to Justin for a moment to steady himself before he staggered into the house again, tripping over the lip of the patio door and almost taking out a weird, expensive looking bust statue of some old dude.

"Excuse me sir, I don't want to dance with you." He muttered, "I want 'nother brownie." He slurred.

Charlie gripped on to his arm once more, guiding him into the kitchen. "Ah, probaaaaably not a great idea." Charlie giggled.

"But they're deliiiiicious." Monty cooed, pulling his best puppydog face. He tried to imagine he was Justin. He wasn't sure it worked.

"Aww." Charlie muttered, an untraceable but vaguely familiar softness to his eyes and his hands as he held on to Monty, "The thing is, there's just so much MDMA in the brownies."

Monty snorted, shaking his head.

"What?"

"In the brownies. I drugged the brownies."

Monty stared at him, incredulous as he felt his skin quivering as though it was its own entity.

"And here I thought you were just this beautiful, innocent ray of sunshine waiting to be corrupted...and Jesus Christ I am so fucking high right now." He lamented as the reality of it all dawned on him.

"Oh ya. You should see your eyes. You've got like, no irises left. Its kind of scary. Like Dean Winchester in Supernatural season 10."

Monty blinked. "I didn't understand a word of that. But I am HIIIIIIGH." He started to jump around to the erratic cadence of his heartbeat. Charlie quickly joined in. It didn't take long for them to start a miniature mosh pit of football players jumping and slamming into each other in the kitchen.

The air was electric, it had a current, and Monty swore he could feel it caressing him. It took a little while before he noticed Justin wasn't joining in on the fun. He found his teammate sitting on the floor in the library.

The goddamned house had a fucking library.

He was caressing the carpet slowly, but his expression was unbelievably pouty.

"FOLEY!" Monty hollered, making the other boy jump within an inch of his life.

"Fucking hell Monty." He griped, "My heart is racing already as it is." Monty flopped down beside him.

"What's up."

"You're the last asshole here that I want to talk to."

Monty groaned and sighed.

"Don't be a downer. You can pretend not to hate me for one night. We were brothers once, we still are."

"No we aren't. Not anymore."

"What's the matter." Monty shoved his shoulder into Justin's gently, the connection sending fireworks radiating through his body.

"I'm thinking about Jess and how I fucked everything up." Justin said brokenly, "I love her, man, I really love her...and my heart is racing and I can't calm down."

"Woah woah. Take a breath." Monty said calmly. Justin looked at him with that broken, puppy dog eyed face.

"I can't."

"You can. Breathe with me." He took a deep breath, feeling himself melt into the carpet like butter, but sparkle...y... as he closed his eyes. He exhaled and glanced at Justin who seemed to be slowly calming down.

"My heart is still racing."

"That would be because Charlie drugged the brownies."

Justin did a double take. "He what?!"

"He put Molly in the brownies." Monty laughed, "And I thought I was corrupting him. I was so wrong. Holy shit. That boy has an angel's face but-"

Justin stared at him, unimpressed. "Right, that has nothing to do with your influence."

"When have I ever cooked for you? I'd have to do that in order to like, even ever secretly drug anybody which I have never done and oh my god this carpet feels so good."

He ran his fingers over it and stared at Justin imploringly.

"Its like, as good as sex." He insisted. Justin ran his fingers over it, laughing slowly until it turned into a giggle, which Monty returned.

"Nah man, you aren't having the right kind of sex if this is what sex feels like."

"I don't know about that." Monty quipped, his mind drifting to the only thing that was missing from this perfect night...

He didn't remember leaving Justin in the library but he found himself in the bathroom, running his fingers over the tile walls of the shower until he decided to clamor in. He tripped over the side of the marble tub and almost smacked his head off the wall but in some sort of feat of drunken prowess he managed to dance like a wet noodle in mid air and slid down the smooth surface without injury.

"Oohhhhhoooo..." He cooed, listening to his own voice echo back to him like a melody that conjoined perfectly, to his ears anyway, with the music pounding throughout the entire house. He was pretty certain he could hear some people hooking up in the next room. There was also a solid chance he found his way to the bathroom by literally feeling up the walls and railings of the house in an elaborate Indiana Jones fantasy.

He flipped the showerhead on and played with the water's temperature, feeling the droplets soak through the front of his shirt and running down the front of his pants. Only one thing was missing.

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and feverishly clicked call, biting his lip.

"What the...Monty?" An incredibly groggy voice answered on the other end. Monty's face split into a wide grin and he slid up and down the tub like a slip and slide, using his legs to propel himself at the front of the tub and sloshing water out over the edges.

"You sound so sleepy." He giggled.

"Uh...Monty, its 3 in the morning."

"What is time, anyway." Monty countered ponderously, "It passes so meaninglessly."

He heard Winston laugh softly and he felt the fireworks inside of his body exploding and the fluttering of the tiny, papery butterflies making his heart stutter. Or, maybe, that was the drugs.

"How high are you right now?" Winston asked, sounding half exasperated half amused.

"Hello." Monty said theatrically, "It's me..."

"Beautiful, Adele... what are you doing, are you safe?"

"I'm in the tub. My clothes are so heavy and the water feels delicious. I think this could have been the best night of my life, I just realized that you are missing." He could feel Winston smiling through the phone, and he laid back into the water, resting his head on the cold marble of the tub as the shower rained down on his legs, filling the tub. He paddled his feet like a toddler, splashing up the tiles of the walls and over the edges of the tub. He didn't notice Justin enter the bathroom in a staggering heap, his abdomen dragging along the marble and wood double vanity for support.

Monty couldn't stop talking, it bubbled out like word vomit...at least it wasn't actual vomit.

"And I just love you." Monty sighed, running his free hand over the tiles, his fingertips dancing alight with the sensation. It made the hair on his arms stand up. "I just love you." He repeated.

Justin's face exploded with shock and he leaped into the tub, displacing nearly half the volume of the water on to the floor. Monty shrieked shrilly and almost dropped his phone as Justin began to thrust and grind on him, hooting with laughter and glee.

"HAVE I DIED?! DID HELL FREEZE OVER?! MONTGOMERY DE LA CRUZ SAID I LOVE YOU! TO SOMEONE! ARE YOU FAKING THIS?! IS THERE ACTUALLY A REAL PERSON ON THE OTHER END OF THAT PHONE RIGHT NOW?! WHO IS SHE?!" He screamed as he continued to pound on to Monty's thighs, the tub surrendering virtually all its contents as the water from the showerhead sprayed them. The bathroom, rest in peace.

Monty pulled his phone away from Justin as he reached for it. "No no no no." He murmured, "This one isn't for you." He shushed, pressing his fingertips against Justin's lips, giggling softly. "It's for me, only me. You understand...don't you?" Justin blinked.

"I don't know how I do, but I do man...I do. Fuck." They stared at each other for a moment, both of their eyes an inky, dilated black without any irises in sight. They wore matching, loopy grins. Monty put the phone back to his ear, suddenly fearful that Winston had hung up on him.

"I'll let you get back to your party...have fun." Winston whispered quietly into the phone. "Be safe."

"I am always safe!" Monty declared incredulously. Justin and Winston unknowingly laughed in unison. Monty heard the phone go silent as Winston hung up and his face shattered, shooting Justin a wounded puppy face.

"Does she love you too?" Justin asked, resting his head on the marble beside Monty. They really didn't fit together inside the tub very well, squashed like sardines in a can.

"I don't know...." Monty murmured. Justin made a humming noise in his throat and let Monty contemplate. "I think so?" He settled on.

"Then we have to celebrate," Justin said solemnly, "For love."

Monty nodded, with equal sudden seriousness.

"For love." He declared.

They both scrambled out of the tub, the flooded bathroom spilling into the carpeted hallway as they tripped over one another and shoved each other. They drank, heavily, the liquor slowly draining from the bottles shot after messy, spilled shot. They danced, dripping with sweat and in Monty and Justin's cases they were actually just dripping wet and soggy. And friends again, if only for just this moment held in time.

Slowly as time passed, the house began to empty, leaving a path of destruction in the party's wake. For Monty, the world was spinning off of it's axis. Gravity was all too much and yet non-existent at the same time but the - literal - ecstasy was still making him feel all too on top of the world to listening to his intoxication and sit down. He used his arms to drag himself across the walls and fell against the sofa.

Charlie was sprawled, watching the ceiling spin above him.

"That's... was eh-pic." Monty groaned, his words coming out like mashed potatoes,  flopping into the sofa and sprawling over Charlie. Charlie leaned into him and laughed, running his hands over the embroidered, antique upholstery.

"I am still so fucked up." Charlie lamented with a sigh. Monty murmured in agreement, his eyes fluttering as the world spun around him dangerously. He just needed to close his eyes for a little while, but the stimulants pounding through his veins wouldn't allow him to rest. He gave up and glanced at Charlie.

"You did...good job." He breathed, his body feeling hot and cold and entirely all wrong.

"Wait...why are you wet..?" Charlie laughed, realizing Monty was dripping all over him. Monty's brows drew together in confusion.

"Am I...?"

"You're soaked." Charlie said, running his hands over Monty's shoulders. Monty shivered, closing his eyes for a moment. The room was blurring around him and it was making him feel queasy.

"Monty...?"

"Mmm?"

Monty's eyes blinked open again, and then he felt the soft warmth of the other boy's lips pressed against his. His eye's widened comically and he laid there, frozen, with his heart hammering in his chest and a wave of panic crashed over him. He pushed away clumsily and fell off the couch in a heap. He staggered to his feet, running for the kitchen. He felt it bubbling up again, word vomit maybe? No.

Actual vomit.

He retched over the garbage can, losing about a liquor store's worth of stomach contents before the entire world tilted sharply to the left and his vision went black. He crumpled to an unceremonious heap on the floor.

Monty climbed on to his bunk and pried open the vent that was level with it. He learned within a few days of his transfer (and after a victory in the squabble for the top bunk because he wasn't a fucking bottom) that the bolts were loose and clearly past inmates had used this as a stash. He popped the letter and file inside, realizing he was still crushing the envelope in his fist and tossing it in the garbage can below and replacing the bolts for appearances and settled with his elbows bent and his hands behind his head. His vein in his neck continued with its steady, relentless, tick tick ticking. He'd decide what to do about Charlie after dinner, he reasoned.

And then there was the Winston of it all...

[glowyjellyfish]

For some reason, despite not having watched the show in roughly seven years according to when I last wrote thoughts about it, I decided last week to start listening to a podcast about Buffy the Vampire Slayer because October. The podcast turned out to be amazing, and despite being thoroughly disillusioned with Joss and worried that would change how I see the show too much, I started watching along with the podcast. Well, really I’m playing catch-up. I just started the Reptile Boy podcast episode, and I just finished The Pack in actually watching. My perception has changed, but mostly in a more mature/woke direction, I’m seeing more problematic stuff and wanting to deconstruct it, but it’s not hampering my love of the characters. I am trying to use death of the author to try to deconstruct and watsonianly explain things, but sometimes it’s better to just go “the writers fucked up” or “yup, that’s a weird and creepy Joss fetish” and let the characters off the hook and be a Doylist.

Here are the thoughts I’ve had so far, which as you can see cheerfully spanned the entire range of the show, because season one doesn’t give me personally a lot to work with.

-Xander is borderline Nice Guy in season one, and I don’t like it. I am enjoying deconstructing him and figuring him out more than I ever did before, though, despite an uneasy feeling that doylistically it started from Joss’ idea of how a average dorky teenage boy would act when surrounded by awesome girls and then reasons for it were added later. It’s really genuinely interesting that Xander’s the heart of the team and has all the feelings about everybody and wears his heart on his sleeve, crushing a lot because of that leaving him vulnerable in addition to hormones, and that growing up in an abusive and neglectful household led to insecurity and overcompensation and poor coping skills. And it’s a really fascinating idea that he despises vampires because he lost one of his best friends to them, and can’t handle the idea of any being capable of redemption or good behavior because he semi-accidentally staked Jesse while trying that concept out and if they can be redeemable then he can’t forgive himself, but of course the show didn’t want to talk about Jesse and preferred to heavily imply if not outright say that Xander’s feelings about vampires were mostly about jealousy over Buffy, which is the most Nice Guy angle they could have possibly chosen. (I... can’t say I totally mind, as Jesse’s behavior was objectively worse than s1 Xander, but still I think it would have been better to not ignore his impact on Xander.) I’m glad Xander more or less gets over his crush after season one and doesn’t wade any further into Nice Guy territory, if I recall correctly, and I’m not claiming it’s unreasonable for him to have had it in the first place, it’s just so much of his behavior regarding it is so uncomfortable, and it could have been handled loads better.

-weirdly, The Pack is the first episode of season one that I found I still thoroughly liked. I did enjoy the show deconstructing/dealing with some of the Xander problems by cranking them up to eleven, and part of it is that I am a sucker for werewolf and werewolf-like stories, and also a sucker for supernatural things happening to the Normal Harmless People in media, but I honestly think a big part of it is how little the episode uses terrible s1 special effects to play the story out. It’s all in the acting, and there was some really convincing and good acting going on.

-I discovered that the last time I watched seven years ago, I concluded that despite his general attitude, Angel genuinely likes being around fun and lighthearted people. I want to bask in that concept for a moment before I turn it around to an earlier point, and say that if Xander wasn’t constantly openly hostile to Angel, they could very well be bros, and I am bummed the show never tried. I mean, jealousy or not, Xander’s vampire issues should still be a problem. But I like the idea of Angel just silently enjoying Xander’s dumb jokes and his naivety, and logically Angel would also super appreciate Xander being adamant about killing him when he’s gone evil. In fact, even if they never became bro’s in canon, I’m going to declare it headcanon that Angel quite liked Xander as a person, and just did not take kindly to constant jabs at his nature. Although, honestly, Angel probably would be a little jealous of Xander regardless for being the most emphatically human person around, (especially considering what a disaster Angel was when he was Liam? He wouldn’t see Xander and think “what a foolish child”, he’d think “is this what I could have been if I was alive now? if I had a couple good people in my life to protect me and help me grow into a better person?”), and wouldn’t really enjoy Xander constantly reminding him that Xander is human and Angel is not. So here’s the revised headcanon: Angel likes Xander as a person, and would quietly consider him a friend if Xander wasn’t openly hostile to him. Angel does not super enjoy spending time with Xander since it means constant needling and reminders that Xander has what Angel never got, but he does appreciate that Xander never lets his guard down and by extension reminds Angel not to let his guard down, either. I will have to see if that holds up as I rewatch; I am still mired in season 1 and I haven’t gotten up to them even sharing a scene yet.

-I have been thinking a little about the escalation of Willow’s heartbrokenness over the course of the series, and… I know there’s a good topic there but it just makes me sad to think about.

-on willow: I think she’s bi and the show/joss is just bi-phobic. Watsonianly, she just never had a full education in the nuances of sexual orientation, and emphasized her gayness to reassure Tara and to embrace a label to define herself. However, while I think she’s bi, I would describe her as having more attraction to women than men, and might even argue that all her attraction to men is demisexual—Xander’s obvious, and Oz did all the pursuing and showed all the interest early on. I think Willow was excited to be desired and to achieve the milestone of not only “boyfriend” but “cool boyfriend in a band” that helped distance herself from nerdiness, and it took a little while for that to build up to attraction and love. Not super long, but long enough for her to doubt her attraction when thinking about it in hindsight.

-speaking of Oz I have so many Oz thoughts. Oz, I love you, but where did you get the idea that you need to solve all your problems yourself and not talk to anybody about it? Stoicism is cool and all but use your words, Oz. You would solve so many of your problems if you learned how to communicate! WHO TAUGHT YOU TO BEHAVE THIS WAY. I haven’t gotten up to him yet but my fandom brain’s already there, he’s my favorite and I can’t wait to try applying this perception to him in action.

-I would love to peek into the alternate universe where Oz didn’t leave. Hell, I want to know what would have happened both if everything else was basically the same but Oz was still around as a main character (say, he wanted some distance to work on control but didn’t leave town; Willow was very upset about it but perhaps not to the same degree, and still met Tara while looking for a way to train/practice magic and developed feelings for her; New Moon Rising happened similarly but Oz doesn’t leave town at the end; alternately he did leave but just for the first stretch of episodes and he stays after NMR), and also in the different scenario where because Oz isn’t leaving, Xander is picked to be The Gay One. I mean, he’d have to be bi, too, and my mind honestly boggles at the hurdles the show might have had to leap to make it plausible, but I would like to see it. What kind of boyfriend would the show have given Xander, and why am I thinking of Schitt’s Creek when I wonder what a gay romance for Xander would look like?

...but I’m reeeeally getting ahead of myself now. I did not expect to have so many of my thoughts be about a. the dudes and b. Xander, but what can you do? Soon I’ll have material to talk about, for example, how amazing Cordelia is, but for now...

(and yes, I have been pinging from one fandom to the next in order to find The Right One, and doing one or two thought-dumps before I find myself moving on to a different one without finishing the first. I do not control the hyperfixation. I might go back and forth when the newest one loses its shine, but I am really enjoying the concept of revisiting Buffy for October, and might proceed to do the same with Teen Wolf when I’m done if only for a fascinated comparison between the two and what inspired what and what was improved upon or done worse. Might. Hyperfixation, remember.)

[gray-is-neutral]

Supernatural

a fan fiction pt. 5

Dean’s POV.

Jordan and I are secretly drinking buddies. Before Cas came home, I just wanted to escape. I went to a bar to find her at the counter, getting a drink. It wasn’t very strong, but still it was a surprise to see her there.

Turns out she had her own sorrows to drown. She didn’t go into detail, but she didn’t mind getting me drunk for me to talk to her. I had ended up passing out drunk and waking up in her living room. I remembered spilling my guts to almost a complete stranger. It was such an embarrassing and weird experience that I didn’t think to ask why she was here at all. She worked in a different state a week before.

“Look, I know this looks bad,” said Jordan. “But I promise, I never mentioned it because I don’t really hunt anymore,” she said. “Why did you stop?” Sam asked. “I was never all that into it to begin with. That was more of my sisters’ thing,” she said. “Sisters?” I asked.

She glared at me. “Yes, we were the Charlie’s Angels of monster hunting,” she said. “What about angels?” Cas said. “My sisters think a- friend for mine is possessed by an angel,” she said. “I low key thought that they were fucking with me,” she said. “God, this is making my head hurt,” she said.

“Well Kelly Garrett,” I said. “How about I take you home?” I said. “You don’t have to-“ she said. “It’s no problem,” I said. “I’ll clear some more things up on the way,” I said. That was our code. It meant, I want to talk to you. She smiled. “Alright,” she said. She had this pleasantness about her. It was weird. Hell, she’s weird, but for some reason, I trust her.

“It sucks I had to meet you in such a fucked way,” she said to Cas. “Let’s hope we meet again under pleasant and not terrifying situations.” Cas looked confused at her. “See you later Sammy boy, C’mon Deany-baby, I’m tired and I need to talk to my sisters,” she said, walking towards the front door.

How did she know where it was? I pushed that thought from my mind as we went from ear shot and she said, “Clear things up for me.”

I explained to her that Cas was an angel. “Your dead crush was an angel?” she said. “He was dead, but we brought him back,” he said. “What in the actual hell?” “How we did that is too long and it isn’t important,” I said.

“Then what is?” Jordan asked. “First that you never lie to me again,” I said. “That seriously pissed me off,” he said. “Noted, continue,” she said. “And I think that there’s more to your story than you’re letting on,” I said.

Jordan is a weird person, but I’m still weirdly comfortable around her. I trust her. Maybe it’s because she’s kind of like me? “Misery loves company,” she had said one time. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything truer.

“So your sisters, are they-?” “One is a lesbian the other one is off limits. Quit trying to cover your homosexual love by hitting on my sisters. You’ve never even seen them before,” she said looking at me annoyed.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” I asked her. “I’m free now,” she said, thinking what I was thinking as we passed a liquor store.

The next thing I knew, I was drinking on her couch as she played a Bon Jovi song over the radio. “I love this song!” I said. “Hell yeah!” she yelled, taking a swig from a bottle that I couldn’t recognize. She threw a bottle of water at me.

I laughed. “You-you’ve gotta stay hydrated,” she said, drinking some water herself. “Are you sure you wanna do this? I can drink and cry without peeps here. Shouldn’t you be with the guy you raised from the dead?” she said. She was drunk, and so was I. I doubted either of us would remember this in the morning.

“I can’t,” I said. “I can’t face the guilt,” I said as she plopped next to me. “You have to-deal with the guilt before healing can happen,” she said, taking another swig from the bottle. Yes, I get my advice from an alcoholic with a doctor’s degree. Where does she get her advice from? No idea. I think she uses me to ignore her own problems, but when your drunk as Hell and in a safe environment, you tend to not care.

She made shots and said, “Let’s play a game.” “This shit is toxic, but look, it’s all bottled up! No big deal, right?” she said. “Right!” I said. “Wrong!” “You gotta take your toxic shit head on! I want you to name a toxic feeling or traight that is causing you emotions, then put that on the shot. Thus symbolically dealing with it, understand?” she said. I nodded, but to be completely honest, I don’t remember what happened after that.

...

We woke up in my room in the bunker. Apparently I wasn’t as drunk as I had thought. I was in a cold sweat. My heart was pounding. “Dean,” Cas said from the chair in front of my bed. “Cas,” I said, not startled. It was comforting for him to be here.

“You were having a nightmare,” he said quietly. “What time is it?” I asked. “Four in the morning,” he said. He sounded sad, and tired. “Dean?” he said. “Yes?” “Why haven’t you told me to get out?” he asked. “Cas, why would I tell you to get out?” I asked.

“It’s four in the morning. You have been drinking,” he said. I chuckled. “Are you still drunk?” he asked. “No,” I said. He looked at me. “Maybe a little buzzed, but not drunk,” I said. “How did I get home?” I asked. “She brought you home,” he said. “She and Sam are talking in the library,” Cas said. “How she was drunker than I was,” I said. “She said this detox helps,” he said, pointing to the large cup of green stuff on the table.

“That was, nice, what you did for her,” Cas said. “What?” I said. “She told us that she was panicking so you took her to get a drink. That you stayed with her because she was drunk and worried about her friend,” he said, convinced. “That was kind of you,” he said.

She lied let me save face. That story made her sound like a damsel in distress. “But could you call next time?” he asked. He was mad at me. I left him because I was feeling bad. Now I feel worse.

“Drink your un-drunkening liquids and go back to sleep,” Cas said. “Will you be here when I wake up?” I asked. If asked about it later, I could chalk it up to being drunk. “If you want me to,” he said. My face was warm. “Remember Dean, emotions make us human and trying to control them does more bad than good,” I remembered Jordan saying.

“Yes,” I half said, half breathed. “Then I will,” he said. He sat in his chair, but I patted the bed. For a moment I thought he had left. But then I felt pressure at the end of the bed. “This isn’t your normal behavior Dean,” he said. I pretended to be a sleep.

I wanted him to lay with me. I wanted to whisper that I loved him in his ear as he snuggled closer, but this was good for now. Maybe forever. I closed my eyes and slept until about 8:46am.

Cas was gone, but he wasn’t gone for long because the bed was warm where he had been. I got up and read a text from Jordan. “If they ask I was a crybaby last night and hella drunk. You were the kind soul who helped me. K?” I smiled. She was crazy. Stupid, but probably one of my best friends.

I walked out of my room into the kitchen. Sam quickly took out his phone and took a quick picture. “What the hell Sam?” I said. “Dean I think your pants shrunk in the wash?” said Jack. I looked down and to my horror, I was wearing a pear of black leggings that were a few sizes too small.

“So did you two swap manly stories or braid each other’s hair?” Sam asked, having a hell of a kick out of this. “I never thought my brother would be on the walk of shame,” Sam continued. “Any news on the angels that escaped the Empty?” I asked. “Jack said the ones that are a threat are handled. Those who aren’t are having a happy reunion,” said Cas.

He looked me up and down. He actually laughed. “Dean please put on your own clothes,” said Sam. “Those leggings are only so strong,” he said. “Shut up,” I said. This is embarrassing. I don’t even know how I ended up in her leggings. What happened to my clothes?

“Do you think she’ll want them back?” Sam asked. “I don’t know, they might be a little stretched out,” said Cas. They were just messing around, but this was not the best place to be in. “Back to the things that escaped the Empty,” I said. “No big bad escaped?” I asked. “Nothing we can’t or haven’t handled before,” said Sam.

I nodded, and I bent over to pick up one of my shirts when the leggings ripped. Sam started laughing his ass off, and soon, so was Cas. I didn’t find it very funny, so I left the room with my dignity in shambles in search of pants. “You might want to tell her she won’t be getting her clothes back!” called Sam. “Fuck off!” I yelled at him.

It was bad enough that Cas came to my room last night and I had asked him to stay. Now I’m in ripped leggings and I’m too embarrassed to come up with a joke or come back. Dad would roll in his grave if he knew I ended up like this. What would he do if he knew I was in love with another man?

I tried not to think about it. I try not think about Dad when I thought of the impala. I try not to think about him when I thought about Mom, or Bobby, or Sam. I don’t like to think about him. I don’t have to think about him either. I don’t have to think about the first and last time I kissed a boy. I don’t have to think about the conversation, the trouble I was in. I’m a grown man now, and Dad is dead. I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I know this is true, so why do I always feel this constant dread?

I got some real clothes on, and I walked into the kitchen. “Hey do you want to go on a hunt?” Sam asked. “A hunt? Like now?” I said. “I thought it might be good,” said Cas. “Just a small, easy hunt,” said Sam. I thought about it and said, “Where?” I asked. “Ohio,” said Sam. “People are dying from suffocation,” he said. “What makes that us?” I asked. “They’re suffocating from flowers in their lungs,” Sam said.

“We think that it’s a curse,” said Cas. “Seems worth checking out,” I said. “To Ohio boys!” I said. “Don’t forget to pack your tights!” Sam said running off to get his stuff together. I hoped I wasn’t as red as I felt and went to get my things.

[shirtlesssammy]

15x02: Raising Hell

Then:

Cousin Oliver’s Cousin Oliver makes his grand entrance, and we love him

Now:

The ghosts of Harlan, Kansas are contained, and most of the townsfolk are corralled in the high school 5 miles away. One daring resident, Nan, decides to check out things herself, and armed with nothing but her pashmina scarf, she scouts the town. Her neighbor, Rob, is there and, let me say, if he was that much of a weirdo in life, I would have moved across the country to get away from him. EEEk. 

*Gratuitous Buckleming Bullshit Alert*

Nan is stabbed repeatedly by the ghost possessing Rob. And then the ghost makes a spelling bee funny. 

And we laughed and laughed. 

At the high school, Cas worries that they’re benzine cover story isn’t going to last much longer. One woman already disappeared. Chief!Sam steps up and makes an inspiring speech to the frustrated townspeople.

It’s kinda awkward? I think Sam is nervous about leading (and it breaks me a little to think about the trauma that he’s processing when he made this decision to lead again.)  

FBI!Dean and Belphegor are patrolling the perimeter of the ghost circle. We learn that the ghost in the opening is Francis Tumblety, a.k.a. Jack the Ripper (*Boris puts on Sam Winchester nerd glasses*: No one actually knows who Jack the Ripper was, and he’s not “cool” Dean. Anyway, go read The Five, y’all.) 

Some vigilante townspeople decide to take matters in their own hands and make a plan to go back to their houses. 

*First Quarterly Meeting of the Harlan Ghosts Alert*

Francis Tumblety, President, opens the meeting with an announcement that they were all kicked out of Hell by God himself. Is it just me or did Hell make all these former people WAY dramatic, like they’re all taking part in a small town theater production? 

Two of the vigilantes sneak past the quarantine zone barrier and are almost immediately greeted by two ghosts. Wherps. 

Our favorite witch, Rowena, interrupts Sam and Cas arguing about how to handle the restless townsfolk. Rowena throws her usual love towards Castiel. I think Cas is getting used to it. (And way to deflect your real desire to just chit chat with Sam, Rowena.) Sam asks Rowena about building another soul bomb. They need something to collect the ghosts in.

Before too much flirting can happen, they’re interrupted. There’s a situation. 

Sam rushes to Dean and Belphegor. They’ve found the two possessed townspeople. Sam starts talking to them like they were just totes normal staring at them. Their eyes start bleeding black goo and our intrepid heroes realize they’re possessed. Francis Tumblety pops up and demands to be released. The people possessed are tortured from the inside --and Sam and Dean just stand there. Shoot the ghost, dudes! Make him go away! Ah, that’s for HERO Ketch to do instead! Yay, Ketch! (I feel dirty just writing those words as a joke, and will now burn both my computer and my fingers for typing them.) 

Back at the high school, the brothers discuss the AMAZING and COMPLETELY HELPFUL appearance of Ketch. Ugh. Rowena asks Sam for a Scotch (I mean, she says “Dear”, that’s Sam, right?) Ketch tries to set things right with the witch, but she “hasn’t forgotten” their past. (KILL HIM, QUEEN). 

Ketch learns that Jack is dead and now we’re Team Belphegor. It seems that Ketch has been tasked with assassinating Belphegor. Awkward. 

Meanwhile, in Reno, Amara’s living her best life. She’s getting a massage, when her derpy asshole brother makes an appearance. (Sidenote: I’m supposed to hate Chuck, but wtf? I can’t hate Rob! It’s physically impossible to not be charmed. Aagh. Oh, wait, he liked the ending to Game of Thrones. BURN HIM. But seriously, that’s some lovely shade, and it renews my faith that they’re going to stick the landing with Supernatural.) 

Cas has to handle customer service for a bit, and quite frankly, he’s a fucking saint. 

Rowena and Dean talk ingredients for her soul bomb spell, and Dean plays matchmaker for her and Sam! Specifically, he tells her to “find another boy toy” when she asks about Ketch, but she was just asking to learn what’s the best angle for killing him. Dean doesn’t know that though. Dean might be going through a messy break-up but he’s still making sure his brother is happy. 

*DEANCAS ALERT*

Cas finds Dean in a room. Cas makes an awkward sports reference (HE’S JUST TRYING TO FIT IN, DAMNIT --also, I like to think he’s trying to throw a little levity into their awkward exchanges.) Dean’s pretty mad, and I’m pretty sure I read a few dozen coda fics with this exact dialog last week, lol. Dean’s mad about everything --his whole life has been a lie. Cas bites back, angry about Chuck killing Jack, but he makes it clear to Dean that what they’ve done over the years isn’t a lie. 

Dean can’t believe they’ve ever had a choice in anything. Brb, crying in the corner. I’ll just leave this here for now:

Cas: Dean, you asked, “What about all of this is real?” We are.

(I can’t find it now but someone on sm compared this to “You idiot. You asshole..” and I am compromised.)

Later, Dean and Ketch walk the perimeter. Dean gives Ketch an iron chain to wear to keep ghosts away. They head to a Meat Packing warehouse, where the F in Dean’s FBI jacket disappears. Wherps. Ketch gets tossed around a bit, AND I’M HERE FOR THIS. Dean gets tossed a bit too so, no thank you. A voice tells the ghost to back off. KEVIN!

Dean tries to wrap his brain around Kevin, who was unfortunately sent to Hell instead of Heaven by good ol’ Chuck. Kevin reports that the barrier is fading, so they’re running out of time. He also boasts that he has a “bad boy rep” in Hell. You do you, I guess? 

Chuck continues to be THAT GUY, hanging out in Amara’s hotel room and channel surfing. She tries to do yoga. 

When he tries to convince her to jet off to another dimension, she refuses. “I am running a hot streak in craps. I like Reno. Everyone here is so not…you.” Amara senses that Chuck is…off. When she discovers his injured shoulder, she tells him that he’s weak and afraid. 

Sam and Dean (and bonus Belphegor) assess the state of the barrier. Belphegor insists that the Winchesters can’t just shuttle Kevin off to Heaven. Once he’s been in Hell, he’s destined to stay there. (Can I just say, we’re basing this all off the word of a hinky demon? So IS this really canon truth, is what I wanna know?) (Boris: That wasn’t true for Bobby?)

In Reno, Chuck touches his bullet wound and hisses in pain. Sam cries out at the same time. Oof, TIED TOGETHER. Sam lies to Dean and tells him that he’s feeling better. Dean does his best inquisitive face.

The ghosts, meanwhile, are still hanging out in their weirdly vanilla home base. I can’t believe nobody’s painted viscera on the walls yet! Other Colonel Sanders stalks around, grandstanding about the failing warding and their plan to attack the weak points. Kevin flashes in. Our dear Kevin tries to act tough, but gets bullied by a bigger…ghost. (Suggestion: a ghost’s power isn’t inherently proportional to their size in life, but to their intelligence and mastery of their ghosty powers.) But WHATEVER the big, bully ghost puts a halt to Kevin’s plan to infiltrate the group pretty much immediately. 

Rowena flirts (apparently, ugh) with Ketch while mixing potions in a science classroom. 

As much as I love and support Rowena and want her to GET SOME whenever she damn well pleases, I find Ketch to be a tool through and through. It’d be different if she wanted something from him but…alas. There they are. They flirt with awkward magic versus science innuendo. Ketch strips a plug and jolts her potion. (Boris and I wander off, our hands shielding our eyes in second-hand embarrassment.) 

 Rowena races through the neighborhood with her soul trapping bespelled crystal. Other Colonel Sanders zaps in. He once had a relationship (ReALly?) with her and is appalled that she’s working for the Winchesters now. Ketch pops up and shoots the ghost while Rowena runs off. As Ketch stares off in the distance feeling very smug, the ghost zaps in behind him and knocks him out.

The Winchesters head in to the very beige suburban home to talk to the ghosts. Other Colonel Sanders threatens to kill Kevin, then sticks his hand in Kevin and starts to suck away his soul. Um. Okay, is this a ghost power now? Or is that how demons are made? Rowena uses that moment to suck several ghosts into her crystal, but it’s not enough. She’ll have to catch them one by one, practically. Kevin tells them about the barrier-busting plan, and they head out to survey it. 

The ghosts manifest as little red balls of flame as they hit the barrier. Dean shoots at them like he’s playing a carnival game and is DESPERATE for the red cowboy hat at the top of the booth. Shooting them one by one is pretty fruitless, so Rowena’s called to the plate. Ketch escorts her to the front and I kinda want to punch him as he gestures for her to go ahead. Like, go eat a lemon and die, Ketch. 

Rowena lets loose her ghostbuster ray and starts sucking in ghosts (through…the barrier?) but Ketch knocks her out. It turns out, he’s ghost-possessed! Sweet Dean Bean’s out of salt rounds and Ketch has the crystal now. He boasts about its power and how it’ll be the most perfect thing to break the wall. Dean shoots Ketch, knocking the ghost out of him, and Rowena sucks ‘em in.

Later, Ketch is getting loaded up into an ambulance (glad to see these random first responders are helping out right at the border of this freak gas leak). Cas tells Sam quickly that he tried to heal Ketch, but failed. Ruh roh, Cas! 

Dean holds a conciliatory conversation with Ketch (to sad music) while Ketch gets hauled away. Ketch exchanges mournful glances with (EXHAUSTED SIGH) Rowena. Dodged a bullet there, Rowena. 

Dean and Sam bid farewell to Kevin, who believes Belphegor’s line about Heaven’s no admittance policy. Kevin’s going to wander the world as a restless spirit, rather than head back to Hell. Belphegor zaps the warding, opening up a door-sized hole for him to go through. See you soon, we hope! 

For Kevin Looks FINE Science:

Back with the gods, Amara heads out on her own. “I am willing to coexist with you, brother. …In the universe! Just not anywhere near you.” She tells him that he has little power against her now. Furthermore, he can’t leave the world without her help. “I’ve become the better me. And you are still the same. Petulant, narcissistic…” Amara is pleased that she’s been able to trap Chuck on the very world he’s trying to escape right now. 

At the barrier, souls continue to whir towards the weak point. Dun dun DUN!

______________________________

These Quotes are Real:

A town full of ghosts? Messy even by Winchester standards.

Can you boys do nothing on your own.

We ran our own race. We made our own moves. And mostly we did well with that.

Dean, you asked, “What about all of this is real?” We are.

Turns out, God’s a dick.

I like soul catcher.

______________________________

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[dxmagedrose]

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Tagged by: my lover @hammurabicomplex​ I’m tagging: anyone and everyone who wants to pick this one up! share with the class if you feel like it! tag me in it!!

PRESENTING. RANDOM DEEP DIVE WITH INDIGO-MUN AT 2AM ;

FIRST NAME Good fucking question… It’s (sort-of) currently Dylann! I was Kieran before that, though; it’s still used as one of my first names and I’m not used to Dylann quite yet bc I’ve just started using it. 

Indigo is one of my middle names though, and I’ve used it as an online handle elsewhere forever so I use it here now!  [ Fun etymology facts: Dylan(n) is a mythology name generally meaning “born of the wave” (aspiring diver & a water witch at heart). Kieran means “little dark one” bc of my love for horror, && I chose Indigo bc as a kid to be it was neither boy (blue) or purple (girl) and was both and neither as well as my absolute favorite color as this vibrant ass mystical color. ]

STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF hmmmmm…. I’m a horror lover at heart, so as a child (I wanna say 12), I was walking through an antique store (I have a few cool finds, I considered putting my other one as the fact tbh) and I turned the corner and I saw these two dolls staring back at me at the foot of the stairs of this antique building. my blood froze, and i felt my stomach drop. i got actual, physical goosebumps stumbling across these two creepy dolls staring back at me in the corner, and i couldn’t leave the store without them. perhaps the little painted porcelain boy would be somewhat spooky by himself if it wasn’t for the terrifying lidded gaze of the porcelain girl with the hairline fractures and slightly open lips. i cant look at her. i dont really find dolls scary, I like to find the spookier ones ones, and she makes me paranoid as hell. i keep her face covered and her up in my closet except for when i bring her out to show her off proudly as the spookiest thing I have but……. i dont really collect dolls anymore.  even thinking about her brings a fearful tear to my eye.  i don’t like to think about her for very long, but that’s why I’m so fucking proud to own her. ( YES — I’m THAT white person in the horror film )

TOP THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON hhhhh a beardy jawline, high cheekbones, crooked canine teeth >:3c

A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF b.l.t.’s with avocado. ahhhh. my mouth is watering just thinking about it, oh my god. just a bit of salt and pepper???

A FOOD YOU HATE barbecue anything, i hate the taste of bbq sauce, you keep your nasty black goo to yourselves at the grill. twice in my life i have presented with barbecue pizza and both times i cried literal tears. why would you do such a horrible thing to a person? what kind of a monster are you? how do you sleep at night?!

GUILTY PLEASURE the sims. constantly. always. i’ve sunk thousands of hours into my households. oh also uhhhhhh i run two 80s horror blogs, one being a shitpost blog with occasional art of mine and one gremlin fanfic ship blog for horrible, terrible self indulgent fanfics i’ll get the courage to finish writing & post so i can be cancelled on tumblr for at some point. NO, i won’t link them. as i pretend they’re even all that hard to find, within a day i was found on both by someone i admire here a lot :’) ilu bby thnk u eternally for supporting ur local horrifying dumbass wtf

WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN the same clothes i’ve been wearing all day usually, my sweats & long sleeve raglans or my hoodies. i like being cozy day & and out. and ugh. efoort. just throw me in a blanket in a cool room and im out.

SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS serious relationships with some openness or poly. i wish i could fling! just not exactly easy for demisexual autistics lmao.

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE I think I would be adopted by my grandma as a kid. It would save me some trauma but mostly I think it would get my autism diagnosed way earlier and save me angsting all these years of wondering why & thinking it’s my fault I’m struggling so much and so loud and affectionate and different in a world that i didnt fit in the same way. 

ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON when i get drunk i text people how much they mean to me in my life. does that answer your question? ahhh. i’m sometimes a cuddle monster with friends, i message people with long texts about how much they mean to me, but I sometimes really don’t like to be touched at all. 

A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN FLYPAPER.  F L Y P A P E R.  FLYPAPER.  FLY, and, I can’t stress this enough, fucking PAPER. ( Though also Whole Nine Yards and both Re-Animator & Bride ). I have watched Flypaper already like, 5 times this week and I’m still not done, and the other movies have been on repeat for days in this household within the last year. In the past it has also been Donnie Darko & the new Nightmare on Elm Street.  roast me.

FAVORITE BOOK White Fang by Jack London. Have I actually ever finished it? No. Do I still own a copy I’ve had since childhood thru multiple dogs eating it, taking it to and from school, and highlighting and circling all the best parts of chapter one ever since I was a kid and it was too hard of a book for me to read? You bet your ass. If I ever need inspiration I just reread chapter 1. Although one of my other favorites was Broken Monsters by Lauren Beukes. But White Fang is like, a weirdly personal text. We stan London’s writing in this household.

YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE FENNEC FOX!! I used to daydream about having my own named Shiloh when I was a lil kid. they’re adorable little things and i am obsessed. i mean, gimme any fox and im happy, marble foxes, red foxes… but I was obsessed with fennec foxes. Also tbh ferrets. I want a ferret.

TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS [IF YOU ARE AN RP BLOG, YOU CAN USE YOUR OWN SHIPS AS WELL] Rosa & @ninetyscnds‘s Luke, Rosa & @iimpulsivity is already screaming my name, Rosa & Constantine, Jesse & Andrea from Breaking Bad, and the joker and harley of 80s sci-fi Dan & Herbert from Re-Ani.  I am but a simple opossum. 

PIE OR CAKE Pie! I’ll take both pumpkin & melty apple over cake. also, cheesecake is more pie than cake soooo, pie wins.

FAVORITE SCENT my dogs / my blanket. :’)  It’s the most grounding smell in the world. 

CELEBRITY CRUSH oliver jackson-cohen, i’m fucking GAY and im angry about it. there i was, minding my own business, and i saw that asshole in a certain SHIRTLESS GIF and it AWOKE SOMETHING IN ME. dont talk to me about it, holy shit im obsessed with beardy men now god fuckkdafjaask i hate him why did he make me this gay i was perfectly fine being into girls but NOOOOOO him and his dumb hairy chest and sweet rugged face and I——  I also am obsessed with the archaeologist & television personality Josh Gates and may or may not be considering making a fan blog for him bc idk if my anthropology docuseries host is Dad or Daddy but i love him lots

IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO I would go on a dive with anthropologists and archaeologists doing fieldwork research in the ancient cenotes of the Yucatán Peninsula. My actual dream job, catch me crying & fantasizing about being underwater documenting Mayan skulls given as offerings. Fuckkkk, I love anthropology so much!!  take me anywhere in the world to immerse myself into culture & archaeology.

INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT Introvert. I have a real life friend I see roughly once a month, and that’s it. Plenty of online relationships, I’m chatty, message me all day every day. but i dont do people well.

DO YOU SCARE EASILY I used to! Really bad. I don’t as much anymore. I do get paranoia a lot still. Having therapists telling you that the FBI could be outside your house watching you through your windows will kind of nervous. ( no google results for: yes hello fbi i am a writer please dont put me on watchlists i just have research i need to do for this idea im working on, would you like to try again? ) I have nightmares nightly but not they never make me afraid, they just make me feel like crap. jumpscares and loud noises and seeing people reaching into their pockets dont set off as many brain alarms anymore tho!! progress haha.

IPHONE OR ANDROID I like my android better bc of capabilities but meh

DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES My mom, her husband & I play COD for family game night, and Silent Hill is my life’s blood. I’ve sunken hours into Sims & Skyrim, and Norman Jayden from Heavy Rain is my #1 fictional character in existence, why do i love the druggie babies

DREAM JOB Oh… You’re asking me to pick? I’d love to be an anthropologist doing work out in the field. Underwater archaeology is peak, but I’m also heavily considering being a body recovery diver or police diver. I’d love to see myself in uniform someday, if possible. Just the thought makes me teary eyed & proud.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS fund my person creative & educational endeavors. get myself a spooky ass abandoned house to make my own home to create in, and travel to the world’s best dive sites. just live a mild life of education, creation & exploration. that’s the dream TM.

FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE dr. hill is a gross and whiny lil bitch this post brought to u by the miskatonic crew, how is everyone here an even worse bad guy than herbert west precious dan excluded talk shit get hit tho john winchester from spn and both walter white & todd from breaking bad are all in my crew of hated characters. i jusT…   the reani novel is difficult to read because i have to deal with this old sack of shit.

FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER Supernatural :-)

… AND THIS CONCLUDES A DEEP DIVE WITH INDIGO!! //

[throughtheglassdarkly]

Missing Pieces, part 1

“Maybe this isn’t home, nor ever was – maybe home is where I have to go tonight. Home is the place where when you go there, you have to finally face the thing in the dark.” – Stephen King, It

Welcome back to our misadventures. The last time you were here, we’d finally escaped Arcadia and found ourselves disoriented and confused. Evain, another changeling, was welcoming us to the Greater Freehold of Upstate New York. And so that’s where we’ll begin.

Evain figured we were pretty out of it, which we were – getting through the Hedge was disorienting as hell. But, he told us, we were at least safe-ish and he recommended that we come back to his place. We didn’t have any real other option, so we took him up on it. We ended up sneaking out of the orchard and through a back road, avoiding the families and young kids who were crawling everywhere. As I was looking around, I suddenly realized where we were: Altamont Orchards in Altamont, New York, about thirty minutes from Albany. I’d gone there a few times to pick apples and try to figure out the spice mix they tossed their cinnamon donuts in.

Given that we looked like refugees from a crappy Ren Faire (to say nothing of how inhuman we looked), we crept our way through as quietly as we could, eventually getting to Evain’s SUV. Bella tried her best sad puppy dog eyes, but Day wasn’t going to let her sit on his lap. Pam, Bella and I shared the middle seat, with Yova riding shotgun and Day in back by himself. Pam was pretty wrecked and nodded off almost as soon as we got on the road. The rest of us introduced ourselves. Evain seemed to be handling us with kid’s gloves, not really pushing conversation on us as we drove into Albany. One thing I did want to know was what year it was; I was thinking back on how Adrian and Cassi had been in the Hedge for years and years. I knew we couldn’t have been gone as long as them, but I was still a little stunned when Adrian told us it was October 2017: two and a half years after we’d been taken.

We got to Evain’s duplex and he let us inside, explaining that he lived on the second floor and had a friend renting the first floor. His apartment was pretty bare aside from the essentials and he got us some snacks. Pam decided to lie down for a bit, but the rest of us were pretty hungry and started noshing. When we sat down, I thanked Evain for letting us crash at his place. “Hey, I’m just glad you guys let me get close,” he said. “We’d seen you at a few places, but every time someone would get close to you, one of you would scream and run away. This is the first time in a week someone’s been able to talk to you.” We all stopped eating and talking and just looked at each other. None of us remembered any part of that, and it definitely didn’t seem like we’d been escaping through the Hedge for a week.

Yova and Day polished off the better part of a bottle of rotgut vodka while Evain tried to get some formalities out of the way. He told us about the freehold and how most of the upstate New York region was contained in it. “But even though it’s big, it’s still easy to get around because of the Hedge and portals.” We also learned about the seasonal courts: Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, each headed by a changeling or changelings who would lead the court three months out of the year. Since it was October, Autumn was currently in charge. He hinted that it was in our interest to join one of the courts, if for nothing other than protection and being a part of the freehold community.

He asked us about who we were before we were taken and we each gave him our elevator pitch. He was taking notes and said he’d pass that along to the courts so they’d have an idea of where we might fit in and how we might make use of some of our skills. He also told us that if we wanted to reclaim our lives and take out our Fetches – assuming we all had one – there were people who could help us out with that. Bella was looking really unsure about this and asked how we could take our lives back when we looked the way we did. It was something that, weirdly enough, hadn’t even occurred to me until that moment: with the possible exception of Pam, we all looked inhuman – nothing like we did before. Evain told us not to worry, that there was some supernatural magic that kept normal humans from seeing what changelings look like. “I guarantee, you’ve walked right past a changeling before you were taken and you never knew,” he said.

Around this time, we’d polished off most of the chips and crackers he’d set out and he offered to go get us some Chinese takeout and some clothes that looked better than the makeshift stuff we had on. I asked if it was possible for him to pick up some stuff that I could use to make cookies. It had been way too long since I was in a full working kitchen with ingredients that weren’t goblin fruit and I was champing at the bit to bake something again. Yova asked for some more vodka. “Well, that goes without saying,” Evain said. I couldn’t help but notice that he seemed really tense around Day before he made his way out the door. “Friend of yours?” Yova asked. “Or someone you arrested?” Bella asked. “Nah, I’d remember his face,” Day said. “Well…” I started and Day sat up straight, eyes wide. “Oh, wait… maybe I wouldn’t remember his face,” he said.

As fascinating as thinking about Day’s long record of manhandling criminals was, it was around this time that Yova started looking uncomfortable. She reached up and detached her collar, saying something was moving in there. She looked inside and her eyes went wide. And that’s when I saw a telltale blue head pop up and smile. “Paisley? Darling, I’ve never been more glad to see anyone, but – what are you doing here?” Yova asked. Paisley climbed out of her hiding spot and I saw a piece of paper tied to her tail. My heart sank and I said, “Oh, no. No, he didn’t. He didn’t.” Paisley climbed over onto my shoulder and I untied the paper from her tail. My hands were shaking, but I opened it up and read it. The paper read “D: So I’m not really apart from you. -A.”

I can’t even explain what I felt, reading those words. A swell of emotion, bubbling up through me. Anger at Adrian for sending Paisley away when I knew how important she was to him being able to see and experience the world. A hot flushed mixture of desire and pleasure that he’d thought to do it. Worry for what it meant for him. And regret – regret again that I couldn’t save him and Cassi from their contract and that he was stuck in Arcadia, serving an Amberleigh who was completely unpredictable. “Why… why would he do this?” was all I could get out. Paisley flitted up and booped her nose against my own. That got a smile out of me and I scratched her under the chin. I can’t explain it, but looking into her eyes, thinking there was a chance he might be seeing me… it made me feel a little better. I’m not the sort of guy who ever had a lot of luck in relationships and Adrian making a gesture like this – as stupid and over-the-top as it was – it let me know he cared about me as much as I cared about him.

And then Yova had to say, “You know, Derek. Those are his eyes. That could lead to some opportunities…” “FLASHING HIM!” Bella piped up. And I began to think about what the statute of limitations would be for murdering two people who technically don’t exist any more. But doing that so soon after we got back wouldn’t be polite, so instead I looked over at Yova and said, “You know what this means. I get to pet Paisley whenever I want.” I might as well have stuck a knife in her and twisted it.

About an hour passed, during which point we learned that the two years we were gone were not an entirely bad time to be away from what was happening in America, and Evain came back in carrying some huge bags of clothes and a plastic bag of greasy takeout. Yova met him at the door wild-eyed and shrieked, “HOWISTRUMPPRESIDENTHOWHOWHOWHOW” and, to his credit, Evain didn’t even blink, just responding, “Because the world fucking sucks.” Truer words were rarely spoken.

Evain put the bags of clothes down on the floor and the takeout on the tiny dining table and told us that he’d heard back from the seasonal rulers, who’d asked us to meet them for dinner at 7:30. It was only about 2:00 by the time he got back, so we had plenty of time to eat, get changed, and even go out for a bit if we wanted. Bella and I started looking through some of the clothes – he’d grabbed about everything at the Goodwill that looked like it might be in our sizes – while Yova said she wanted to check the library and do some searching about what happened to her. Day said that he thought he might look into some things as well and that was when Evain started laughing – and not a pleasant laugh either.

Day looked over and very darkly asked Evain what was so funny. “Oh, my friend,” Evain said. “You’re not going to have to look hard at all. You made headlines.” Day looked like he wanted to choke Evain out and asked what the hell he was talking about. With no small amount of glee, Evain told Day that after he disappeared, the police started looking into things to see if maybe somebody took out a hit on him as retribution for an arrest. That’s when they realized everything Day had been up to and all the times he’d planted evidence or blurred some lines to get a bad guy. That’s when Day’s Fetch showed up, immediately realized how much trouble he was in, and went underground. Nobody’d seen hide nor hair of his Fetch since then.

Day started breathing heavily, looking like he was going to reach over and rip Evain’s face off, and Yova quickly popped up, escorting him outside. Evain was still snickering to himself and I was about to speak up when, much to my surprise, Bella let him have it with both barrels, telling him that he was out of line and didn’t have to tell Day the way he did. “Yeah, he can be an asshole, but you don’t have to be mean about his life going down the tubes!” she said, displaying her usual sense of restraint and decorum. “Sweetheart, you don’t understand the context here,” Evain said, without going into any more detail. He did seem to at least feel a little bit of remorse, because he toned down the snickering and told her he’d try to keep it to himself.

Outside, Yova was trying to comfort Day and tell him things were going to be okay. “No, he’s right. I’m not a nice guy,” Day said, head in hands. Yova wasn’t sure how to respond to that and asked as gently as she could if there were a lot of things the investigators might have found. Day admitted it would have been Internal Investigations’ wet dream. Yova took a deep breath and told him that even though things might be bleak, this was actually going to give him a clean slate: they’d be looking for his Fetch, not for who Day was now. “You have a chance to start over and I know people who would kill for a chance like that. I’d think on that,” she said. She also reminded him he had the potential to be better and that he shouldn’t squander it. Day sat there for a minute, not saying anything, before he pushed himself up and said he needed to take a walk.

Yova came back inside, glaring daggers at Evain, and said she was going to take the bus to the library. Evain offered to drive her and Yova turned full ice princess mode on him. She at least accepted a few bucks from him for bus fare and left, slamming the door behind her and leaving me, Bella, and Evain sitting in very awkward silence. “Well,” I said, getting up. “I think I’m gonna make some cookies.”

I found later Day took a long walk and found a park to sit and think for a while. He was about as shaken as he’d ever been, thinking back on how many of the convictions he’d worked so hard to get were probably getting overturned on what the internal investigators had found. He was thinking about how things weren’t ever going to be the same and how he put in all that work for nothing.

Back at the apartment, I made a triple batch of my signature molasses cookies (which are awesome as hell, thank you kindly), Evain grabbed a pipe and went out on the porch for a smoke, and Bella rage-sketched.

Yova got a bus to the library and got a pass to use one of the computers. She Googled herself and found almost nothing after her abduction. She of course found everything about herself before that, but after her abduction, it was like she dropped off the face of the earth. She tried checking her personal website, but it was out of commission. Her Gmail account still worked, so she sent out a few messages to some contacts. On her way out, however, she spotted an ancient Missing Persons poster that looked vaguely familiar. When she got closer, she realized it was Cassi at about age 12. She took the poster and folded it up, breathing very slowly.

We were mostly left to our own devices, with Evain leaving us alone until it was time to go meet the monarchs. He opened one of his closet doors and we saw a giant mirror inside. We got Pam up and she seemed more herself after getting some rest. We all joined hands and Evain grabbed a razor blade, cutting his arm and smearing some of the blood on the mirror. We all could feel something in the air shift. He stepped through the mirror and we all got pulled through with him. It felt weirdly normal as we passed through, emerging in a large coat closet. A very severe-looking woman with gray skin and blonde hair was staring at us. Evain seemed to be playing up a bow to her, but she just rolled her eyes and told us the monarchs were waiting.

We got led through a kitchen and into a dining room. It seemed like we were in a B&B somewhere, a weirdly calm, comforting environment. There were a group of changelings sitting and standing in the room and it was set with dinner. We were introduced to Cahir, King of the Summer Court; Mistress Lilly, Queen of the Spring Court; The Dagda, Speaker of the Autumn Council; and Kassandra Winterdale, ruler of the Winter Court. They had a big spread of food that looked almost like Thanksgiving dinner: a big turkey (which made me kind of ill to think about) and a lot of side dishes. I tried to put my plate of cookies on the table as unobtrusively as possible. The Dagda, however, made a beeline for them, asking, “Are those cookies?!” I stammered out a yes, and he picked them up and smelled them deeply, then said, “Oh, man, he’s my favorite. Kassandra, you have to smell this!” Kassandra was about as icy as her name, telling him there would be time for dessert later. I think she might be allergic to joy, but that’s just me.

Mistress Lilly was interested in making sure we were feeling welcome, telling us that they all wanted to make sure we were comfortable and got to eat. I couldn’t really handle the roast turkey, but everything else was delicious. Yova started chatting up the rulers, schmoozing with all of them and trying to network. Kassandra may have given a slight smile, and both The Dagda and Cahir were very taken with Yova. We learned the basics about the Courts and the benefits of joining a Court. We were strongly encouraged to think about where we would be the happiest. I couldn’t shake the feeling that, as friendly as the rulers were all being, they were extremely interested in as many of us joining their specific courts as possible and were willing to undercut each other to make that happen.

As dinner wound down, Yova started looking around anxiously. I was sitting next to her and low-key asked what was going on. She admitted that now that she was back, she was jonesing something fierce to play a piano. “Dude, we’re in a B&B. There’s going to be a piano in the parlor,” I said. Her eyes widened and she got up and bolted from the room. Before anybody knew what was going on, we started hearing the entirety of “Rhapsody in Blue,” much to Mistress Lilly’s delight.

Some of us took the opportunity to speak with the rulers more one-on-one about what their courts might offer. Day asked if anyone was looking for muscle or investigation and Cahir told him Summer was always looking for additional brawn. Bella mentioned that she used to be a geologist and that started something of a bidding war between The Dagda and Kassandra. The Dagda said, “She’s an academic! She’s ours!” “You don’t have a monopoly on intelligence,” Kassandra said frostily, turning to Bella. She was about as warm as I saw her (which even then is to say, not very), telling Bella that there were very few Helldivers in the freehold and that Winter had significant need of someone with her specializations.

As for me, I had been listening closely and thinking about what pitches each of the rulers made for their courts. Mistress Lilly seemed lovely, but a bit on the flighty side and I wasn’t sure Spring would be a good choice given how awkward I can be. Cahir was definitely all about macho supremacy (one of the women hanging off of him was giving Yova a dirty look when Yova was talking to him – I desperately wanted to “Oh, honey” her but thought it would be a lot more fun to see how that played out) and he seemed most interested in strength and front-line bruisers like Day. Kassandra, as I’ve noted, was just flat-out frosty and was more interested in what any of us could do for Winter than what Winter could do for us.

So that left Autumn. I had a chance to speak one-on-one with The Dagda, who was a pretty jolly guy, and asked him what the Autumn Court was all about. He told me in between eating cookies that Autumn was mostly made up of researchers and academics, always looking into fae magic. That piqued my interest right away, given how I was still trying to figure out how to help Adrian, Cassi, and the others break their pledge to Amberleigh. The Dagda also told me about how Autumn’s primary emotion that it drew on was fear. He assured me that it wasn’t as bad as it sounded, how they were more interested in the power of fear and considering how it worked than in causing fear itself. He also said that the woman who we met when we first made it through the mirror into the B&B shouldn’t be considered a typical Autumn courtier; “We’re not all uptight,” he said, chuckling a bit.

While the evening went on, I thought about what I learned from him, and the possibility of pledging myself to a group like the Autumn Court. I’m not much of a researcher or a scholar (hell, I barely managed to get above a 3.0 GPA in undergrad) but the more I thought back on what he was saying, the more I realized that was the place where I could see myself. Ever since I’d changed, I’d been picking up more on the meanings in what people said and how their words committed them to promises or actions. Even if I wasn’t going to be, say, the stereotypical bookworm Autumn courtier, something about it felt natural, like it was the right place for me to be even if I didn’t fully understand why yet.

And besides that, my birthday’s in November. Autumn totally is the best time of year.

After a few hours of dinner, conversation, and Yova oh-so-nonchalantly serenading us with the entire Gershwin library, the evening came to an end. The Dagda offered to let us stay in the B&B – turns out, it was owned by the Autumn Court and he offered each of us a room until we got our feet under us. (Also, given how badly Evain pissed each of us off with the way he treated Day, it was a little bit of an unspoken relief for all of us – and him – that we didn’t have to stay at his place) Before she left, Kassandra took an extra minute to talk with Bella about how her talents would benefit the Winter Court. After she left, Yova and I took a little time to tease Bella about how Kassandra was interested in her. “Wait, really?” Bella asked. “Oh, yeah. She totally wants to bump clams with you,” I said.

Sleep came easily for most of us that night, but not for everybody. Pam told me later how she had a dream looking through the eyes of the woman who replaced her. She saw her eldest daughter getting ready for bed and hugging Pam’s Fetch, but that there was something very, very off about the way her daughter hugged her: she almost looked nervous. Day, too, had a hard time settling in. Just before he nodded off, he had a recollection that he might actually remember somebody with Evain’s face after all.

But what kind of storyteller would I be if I didn’t leave you with a bit of a cliffhanger? Next time, you’ll learn a little more about how we found our places in the courts and dealt with the whole… coming back thing. Until then, be chill and try not to make your houseguests all want to murder you.

[thebibliomancer]

50 More Days of Comics! 26/50: Alpha Flight #89 (1990)

This book’s marketing strategy: “HEY ANYONE LIKE THE ORIGINAL GUARDIAN? ANYONE? OKAY DAMMIT WE HAVE A WOLVERINE FOR YOU PLEASE BUY THIS BOOK! oh and Puck is back if that’s what you’re into…”

I know next to nothing about Alpha Flight.

I really should.

They’re the X-Spinoff that doesn’t put an X in the title. Someone on tvtropes was liveblogging it and I picked up a few unfortunate tidbits from that.

Recently Alpha Flight has gone from being my second favorite Canadian super-team to being Captain Marvel’s space team. Or Earth-orbit team. Since I happen to think, BENDIS, that a space team should be in space.

The bits of Alpha Flight I’ve read with them in this role I’ve liked. Although I can’t help but wonder if Carol just bought the team from Canada.

Anyway, I wish I knew more about the iteration of the team that’s in this book because it has the one-two whammy of being both continuity heavy and snapback heavy. Not only is current continuity a big thing, previous continuity is a big thing because its being returned to. Also part three of a four part story.

Which has several ongoing plot lines.

Eesh.

I know I say this a lot but this is what recap technology was designed for.

So in one plot line, Shaman, Talisman, Aurora, and Sasquatch are searching for their missing teammate Puck, who was taken by the self-titled Master of the World.

And, uh, they find him. He’s been given a kind of gross makeover with exposed veins and tentacle fingers. But they found him alright.

Sasquatch immediately suggests mercy killing Puck because I guess that’s what he jumps to but thanks to Aurora’s “cleansing burst of light” Talisman and Shaman are able to mystically touch his mind and discover what happened.

In a flurry of continuity, Puck was apparently a dwarf but then it was retconned that he was a dwarf because his body had a demon sealed inside it because of magic but he was injured by the Dream Queen but was healed through supernatural means but on Earth his body rejected the magic so he was dying but the Master of the World wanted to test the limits of the human form and also get revenge on Alpha Flight so he secretly had Puck injected with a genetic compound made of former Alpha Flight foe Scramble and a blood sample of Puck taken years ago when he was still a dwarf so the compound reshaped Puck into a dwarf again but did a bad job of it.

Phew!

Comics that are attempting to retcon things in always have too much information per panel.

Anyway, since Sasquatch used to be a biochemist he understood all of that and also poked around in the Master’s computers and discovered that the compound is still in Puck’s system. So with a little bit of reprogramming, Puck could be put back to normal but dwarf normal because that’s when the DNA sample was from, not whatever normal he had been recently. Sssssnapback!

Also, the strain of having his body restructured might kill him but Puck says to go for it.

So Puck is thrown into a science tube and Sasquatch lays down some technobabble that basically amounts to ‘hey y’all Puck will be a dwarf again and this will be permanent, swearsies.’

Just as the process is started, the Master of the World bursts in with his Remnant Men and scolds Alpha Flight for coming in without knocking, very rude, now gtfo and stop touching his things (explicitly including Puck in that).

Master (of the World): “I do not see this as a degradation then, but rather the contrary… I see this as a reaffirmation of my faith… Faith in pain.”

I know the Master (of the World) from two places: Carol Danvers shanking him during Kurt Busiek’s Avengers run and his run-in with the new Champions where he was rebuilding the melting glaciers by using human suffering. Or something. It’s a bit unclear.

Anyway, he’s a creepus and he’s sending his creeper army to attack the present Alpha Flighters.

But thankfully, just as they’re getting overwhelmed, Puck bursts healed, naked, and spread legged from the science tube with a convenient splash of censoring water.

Puck: “I’m back, eh? Now let’s make short work of this loser!!”

He gets to make short jokes.

Anyway, that’s the end of this plot thread in this issue but if Puck isn’t kicking the Master’s ass while bareassed in the next issue, comics as a medium have failed forever.

In the second plot thread, Vindicator and Wolverine are trying to track down someone named Wild Child who broke out of jail.

Wolverine manages to track Wild Child down to a run down Roxxon gas station bathroom and squats by the toilet to get some good whiffs (which most be horrible with his enhanced sense of smell) and determines that Gamma Flight was here with Wild Child.

Which presents a problem as Gamma Flight is a team and Wolverine and Vindicator are two people.

Vindicator: “Are we up against all of Gamma Flight?”

Wolverine: “Yup. Gotta give ‘em credit fer stickin’ together through this.”

Vindicator: “Credit? They were formed for all the wrong reasons and disbanded for all the right ones. Oh, what am I getting so upset for? I’m so tired – of everything… Why has this team become such a mess? Why am I doing all of this?”

But Wolverine believes in the him that believes in her, or something, and they continue on. At the very least, punching some people will be cathartic. Which I believe is at least 50% of how superheroes work.

Four hours later, they track Gamma Flight down to an abandoned factory. Wolverine immediately leaps into an ambush that he probably suspects is an ambush to force the issue and maybe as an application to the Teen Titans who never met a trap they didn’t waltz into.

Anyway, things get chaotic and incomprehensible for a bit, befitting an ambush. But Team Wolverine and Vindicator Is There Too handle the ambush with something resembling aplomb and when its over Gamma Flight lines up in a row so we can get a team shot and their leader Nemesis (who looks like a Lady Deadpool with a cape) monologues.

Nemesis: “Hello, Vindicator… Wolverine… What is it exactly that you’re looking for besides your own funeral? I hope it’s not Wild Child. I hope you don’t expect us to give him up after all the trouble we went through breaking him out of prison. Because if that’s the case then you’re going to have to answer to us. GAMMA FLIGHT – protects their own!”

Vindicator’s response? “I’m not going to disappoint you, Nemesis. We are here for Wildchild. And we’re going to get him… even if we have to roll over each and every one of you idiots to do it!”

Way to be outnumbered nearly two to one with also aplomb, Vindicator. But as appears to be the trend, if twice is a pattern which it probably is, we don’t get the fight this issue. That’s next issue’s deal.

There’s a loose page that roughly fits into this plot thread. Northstar and Persuasion (a daughter of Purple Man trying to be not a dick like him) are watching their friend Laura in the hospital. Laura was hurt badly by Wild Child which I guess explains why Vindicator is cruising to bruise him.

And Persuasion is sad because not only is her friend hurt but her stupid mind control powers couldn’t do anything to help her only friend.

And Laura is in bad condition. She’s lost a lot of blood and needs a new kidney.

But for arbitrary reasons, even though Laura is O-positive, because she’s a mutant she has weird blood and they need compatible family blood. But Laura sent her only known family, her sister Goblyn, to another dimension. For her own good.

JUST THEN, people claiming to be her parents walk in and ask if they’d be a suitable match. DUN DUN DUN! Dramaaaaaa!

And in tonight’s final plot thread, as the cover promised, the weird return of the original Guardian. His death was apparently one of the earliest big events of the book, happening in issue 12.

So why is he coming back after 77 issues and two in-universe years? God only knows but this is a hard snapback. And this is a hell of a retcon.

They played at bringing Guardian back before. For Reasons, in issues 25-28 per the editorial captions, a robot disguised itself as Guardian and claimed that the explosion that killed him had ripped a hole in time-space and threw Guardian through it. And that he was then saved by aliens and sent back to Earth and had to sleep for ten thousand years during the voyage.

Obviously, this was all a lie.

Samuel Higgins, Roxxon guy: “Ahem. Yes, well. A lie. Hmm. Ahem… well… that crazy story that the robot came up with? About Hudson getting thrust back in time and waking up on Jupiter’s moon – Ganymede – then sleeping cryogenically and getting sent on a spaceship back to Earth? That crazy, whacky, kooky story? Well… it was all true.”

I mean, that’s one way to do it. I wouldn’t personally but it is one way.

Once you start getting into “the lie was a lie!” territory you’ve convoluted a book up fierce. See also: Spider-Man’s Clone Sage 2: This Time Its 90s And Nobody Knows What They’re Doing.

Forge is on scene with Roxxon guy Windshear and Alpha Flighters Box and Diamond Lil and I think Forge puts it best.

Forge: “In this business, death has a habit of making a liar out of the truth.”

Anyway, the not-dead James Hudson aka Guardian is wired up underneath a Roxxon research facility and he’s putting out potent hacking waves that are causing the mechanisms of the facility to go haywire and attack people. And also causing Box to malfunction because he’s a guy in a suit who is a suit. Or something.

I’m not entirely sure. But he fuses with Forge so that Forge can override the hacking and reconfigure the Box suit to overcome Hudson’s various stratagems.

And with enough technobabble, it works! They close in on James Hudson’s cybernetic weirdly crucifix posed nearly naked body.

A lot of beefcake in this comic for people into that.

Box (Madison Jeffries) separates from Forge and attempts to monologue Hudson back to his senses.

Box: “Hudson – Jamie – it’s me – Madison Jeffries – you remember, right? You got me outta the V.A. hospital – told me what had happened in ‘Nam was cool – told me that sometimes things hit the fan and that’s the way it is. Well, I’m here t’tell you the same thing, Jamie.

“Mac – wake up, man! You’re messing things up bigtime here! C’mon – remember who you were – are – ‘member when you recruited me for Department H – I was only in Beta an’ you loved havin’ me hang around – cos’ we had one thing in common – we both loved machines… Guess we both took it sorta to extremes don’tchu think? Well, guess what? We have somethin’ else in common now… maybe we took that to extremes, too…

“Heather. Remember Heather? Yeah. I see your mental imaging. That’s how she looked when you first met her, eh? She looks so young, man… So innocent… beautiful… Uhm… I think I love her, too, now, Mac. She’s a special lady. She never gave up on yer dream when we though you’d died. She kept Alpha Flight goin’ – no matter how rough it got – all ‘cos o’ her faith and belief in your dream, Jamie – in you…”

And being reminded of his wife in short shorts and/or emotional appeal works because Hudson comes out from his stupor and tearfully and droolfully proclaims that he is alive!

Awww. I still don’t know who was clamoring for this character to be returned after so many issues but I’m a sucker for a big in-universe emotional appeal.

Still though. Trying to retcon the book back into shape is not a good environment to attract new readers.

But speaking of sexy Heather, she was drawn with nipple poking through her Vindicator costume in several panels so I’m going to side eye Michael Bair and Mike Manley super hard. It may be a spandex costume but there’s like twelve pounds of circuitry underneath, geez.

Though I guess they also gave the reader Puck lunging crotch first at the reader and Hudson hanging out in only his underwear. So an Attempt Was Made to be fair-handed, I guess?

[jay-fabe7712]

the invisible woman

Summary: location - weirdly dark club + supernatural element - demonic gathering + situation - making a deal with someone you shouldn’t have + quote - “i wonder if you taste as good as your fear smells.”

A/N: So, this is my contribution to the eleventh day of the 31 Little Wrestling Fics challenge! (Barely on time, mind you.) I have mixed feelings about how it turned out, but I’m super happy I got a chance to participate.

Also, I’d like to give a special shoutout to @fan-fiction-galore. Even though I’ve known her for about a month, the little interactions we’ve had has been a joy and I wish her all the best on her new journey!

When I looked into the eyes of Minoru Suzuki for the first time, fear was the furthest thing from my mind.

I would describe the feeling more along the lines of awe or wonder.

His eyes were wide at first, darting around to find his next victim. The next body to brutalize in an exorcism of his own frustrations. His smile spread slow as molasses and the glistening of his incisor through parted lips was barely visible before his gaze settled on me.

But all I could focus on were his eyes. Not the dark brown of the iris or the murderous intent they held, but how they were looking directly at me. Not past me. Not over my head. Not in my general direction. His gaze was locked tight with mine and I had his full attention. And it might sound a little preposterous, but no one had ever looked at me like that. And shit, if they ever had it was so long ago that it didn’t matter.

Because if there was one thing I was good at, it was being invisible. Which is why being a production assistant for New Japan Pro Wrestling was the perfect job for me. In fact, I liked the anonymity of it. Fading into the background and watching all the action unfold.

At least, I thought I did.

You see, people always looked past me. They forgot I was there. They forgot I existed. So even if Suzuki wanted to murder me in cold blood in front of a live audience, I couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that someone had seen through the invisibility cloak that seemed to shroud all of my daily interactions.

Then, I blinked and he was right in front of me. So close I could feel his heavy breaths jostling my eyelashes with each exhale. I could feel the heat radiating off of his body. I could see individual beads of sweat wind their way down his temple.

But again, I was distracted by his eyes. I could see them clouding with thought at the short, squatty being that was staring back at him. Wide-eyed and ripe for the killing.

The moment was broken when he let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a grunt before turning abruptly on his heel and heading toward the back.

My eyes followed him until he was out of my line of vision; he never looked back. His stablemates, Desperado and Taichi, kept shooting glances my way as they trailed after him. Deperado’s mask gave away very little but his eyes were piercing and his arms were crossed tightly across his chest. Taichi smoothed his hair back and grinned so wide I almost looked away.

“Naomi.”

I felt a nudge to my shoulder and it was as if someone had just drenched me in cold water. I hadn’t even realized that I had spaced out until that moment. Suddenly, the din of the crowd warred against my eardrums, the bright lights illuminating the ring hurt my eyes and I clutched at my cardigan to stop my trembling even though it wasn’t cold at all.

"Are you okay?" My co-worker Ryou asked me.

"Yeah," I said, glancing up at him. But his eyes weren’t on me. Of course they weren’t. He was staring after Taichi and Desperado and I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard.

"Man, those guys," He shook his head. "Minoru especially. Always terrorizing the staff."

Believe it or not, it wasn’t until that moment that I realized I should be afraid. The most brutal wrestler on NJPW’s roster had quite literally breathed down my neck and I had barely batted an eye.

Fear started to unfurl in my stomach like a spider stretching its legs. I hope I hadn’t made myself even more of a target.

"Look who it is!"

I recognized Taka Michinoku’s game-show-host voice anywhere. "It’s the rope wrangler who stood toe-to-toe with the boss."

He shook his head with a lopsided smile. "Can’t fucking believe it."

He elbowed Kanemaru by his side who simply quirked a brow and studied me.

“I’d watch my back if I were you,” Taka continued. “The boss seemed pretty pissed last week.”

“Might even come to getcha.” Kanemaru was close enough for me to smell the alcohol on his breath and I took several steps back.

The two men traded glances and chuckled, obviously thinking I was scared. And frankly, I wished I was. I wished I had the common sense enough to be trembling in fear at the thought of Minoru Suzuki having some kind of vendetta against me. But what I felt was hopeful. Hoping that I could be under that laser-focused gaze of his again. Hoping to be seen.

In fact, the searching looks Taka and Kanemaru were giving me already transported me back to that day ringside. To no longer being invisible.

But before I could entertain the thought any further, I clutched the clipboard in my hand tight to my chest and muttered, “I’ve got work to do.” Then, I proceeded to scurry as far away from these men as I could possibly get.

Unfortunately, that did little to change what was already set in motion.

“And working ringside we’ve got-”

“I’ll do it!” I blurted, garnering several sideways glances from my co-workers.

“Who…” Our supervisor Ken looked around, skimming over my face several times before finally resting his gaze on my general area. “Naomi?”

Huh. Surprised he even remembered my name.

“Yeah.”

He cleared his throat. “I was going to say that Atsuko will be working ringside with-”

“Why don’t you let me do it?” I cut in again. More stares. “Atsuko doesn’t mind if I take her place, do you Atsu?”

The brown-haired woman sputtered a moment. “Uh, no. Sure, I don’t mind.”

“That settles it then, huh?”

By this time, everyone’s eyes were on me but they turned collectively to see Ken’s reaction.

I thought I saw a vein pop out in his forehead, but he responded with a stiff nod and said, “I guess it does.”

Once he was done with announcements, everyone dispersed to begin preparing for tonight’s show.

“Naomi!” Ken called to me as soon as most everyone else was gone. “Let me talk to you for a minute.”

“Sure.” I responded, even though he didn’t exactly ask me a question.

“What the hell was that?”

“What the hell was what?” I fired back.

Yep, that was definitely the vein in his forehead popping out. “You questioning my authority.”

“I was making a suggestion.” I responded, feeling my own anger spike. “A pretty logical one, I think.”

“How so?”

“Atsuko is too slow to assist with the camera cords. Someone always ends up tripping and she’s gonna block the camera at least five times during the-”

“Regardless, that’s my decision to make.”

“-show.” I finished my previous sentence in lieu of an actual response.

“Whatever you were doing, it better not happen again. Understood?”

“Mm-hm.” I could feel the anger radiating off him and if looks could kill, I would probably be dead.

But I didn’t care. In fact, the heady mixture had me feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. I didn’t know who this guy thought he was anyway.

Working in the behind-the-scenes production of NJPW actually had a pretty quick turnaround. Some people came in just to rub elbows with their favorite wrestlers and got a reality check real quick. Some people came in just to get a paycheck but ended up realizing how hard the work actually was. And some people just quit. I had been here for two years while Ken had only been here six months and already he was in a managerial position while I was in the exact same spot.

It was about time I got some respect. --- That night I couldn’t take my eyes off of them.

Every single bit of the vile chaos that ensued in their match, I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.

Kanemaru spraying his opponents faces with alcohol until the entirety of ringside stank of whiskey. Taichi driving the handle of the bell hammer into eye sockets and twisting it with glee. Minoru leaning casually into submissions as his victims screamed bloody murder at the pain of their wrenching muscles.

I had always garnered a strange sense of comfort from being around the carnage of pro wrestling. The dull thud of bodies hitting the canvas was so calming that I would sometimes queue up NJPW World on nights I had trouble sleeping.

But this was different.

I had never actually taken pleasure in people getting hurt. In fact, I’d always considered it my least favorite part of my job. Besides Ken, of course.

But now, as I watched the men of Suzuki-gun gather around the broken bodies and raise their pointer fingers up high, I was hit with a more unsettling realization.

I not only liked the violence. I wanted to be a part of it. --- There were a lot of moments in my life worthy of a great deal of shame, but this was probably one of the higher items on the list.

I followed them.

I overheard them talking about some club or the other they planned on visiting that night and…I decided I would show up. I would say this was strange behavior for me but quite frankly, strange behavior had become the norm for me lately.

The man at the door didn’t stop at me. In fact, he barely even looked at me.

I wasn’t a frequenter of the club scene, but I was pretty sure the man at the door didn’t fit the bill of what I would consider a “bouncer”.

He was average height with a shaved head, decked out in a navy blue sweater and similarly colored dress pants. Honestly, the most intimidating thing about him was the fact he was wearing sunglasses at about ten minutes until midnight. I paused at the door, clutching my wallet in my hand. When he didn’t react to my presence, I rifled through my wallet to find my ID and held it out to him.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to go in?” He didn’t move from his stationary position; he didn’t crane his head or lift up his glasses to examine my card, he barely even moved his lips when he spoke.

“Wha- Don’t you need to see my ID?”

“Guess you’re just going to stand there, then.”

I stared at him, speechless for a few seconds but he remained unresponsive. He was kinda starting to creep me out. Especially those damn glasses.

No matter how hard I stared, I couldn’t make out his eyes behind them. Just two sheens of depthless black. The longer I stared at them, the more confused I felt. I blinked and shook my head, breaking his unsettling gaze, which grew even more unsettling when I realized even though the building in front of me vibrated with music and voices, no one else was out front. There was no line, no smokers, no drunkards, no one.

Not wanting to dwell on the feeling, I brushed past the man and splayed my hand onto the door but he did nothing to stop me.

“Ow!” I exclaimed as I bumped hard into something (or someone) as soon as I stepped inside.

Unfortunately I couldn’t find the obstruction – I couldn’t really find anything the damn place was so dark. I stood still for a few moments waiting for my vision to adjust to the light. I was able to make out shapes and eventually objects. No wonder I had bumped into something, I had walked right into a wall. The front door led right into a hallway that extended to the left and right but the only thing in front of me was wall. I looked down either side of the hallway. I decided to go left.

During my entire trek, I didn’t run into a single person. Which was weird because the deeper I went into the place, the stronger the pulsing music and indiscernible voices grew.

I was considering going back the way I came when I heard the familiar sound of a deep, crisp voice.

Taka Michinoku.

“…is such a fucking prick now. I liked him better when he was Mr. Goody Two Shoes.”

Up ahead, thin cracks of dim light formed the shape of a door.

“Yeah, you can’t even really have fun with him anymore.” Taichi. “He’s either spitting on you or staring at you with those dead eyes.”

I pressed closer.

“Well, he knew what he wanted and he didn’t care what he had to do to get it.” That sounded like Suzuki.

“Come on, it’s a waste! All that just for the fans to give a shit about him.” Taichi scoffed. “Ridiculous.”

“You’re just saying that because they don’t give a shit about you.” Taka quipped. Laughter filled the room.

“Some people will do anything just for anyone to give a shit.” Minoru responded. That brought on silence.

Then, I thought I could hear their voices starting up again but lower this time. I pressed so hard to the door it felt like I was melding with the wood.

Suddenly, the door yanked open and I nearly fell into the room, to which Kanemaru responded by graciously moving out of the way to let me do just that.

“Look at that.” Taka chuckled. “Standing at attention. Just like you said, boss.”

“Mm-hm.” Minoru hummed, remaining seated for a moment longer before rising to take a few slow steps toward me.

“A- Are you going to kill me?”

“You guessed it.” Taichi smirked.

“I wonder if you taste as good as your fear smells.” Iizuka added.

My stomach dropped but the men in the room laughed collectively.

“Shut up.” Minoru growled out, but humor tugged at edges of his tone. Nonetheless, the men grew silent.

“We’re not in the business of killing-”

Taka cleared his throat.

“-at the moment.” Minoru finished. “We’re in the business of making deals.”

“Deals?”

“Don’t act dumb,” His eyes darkened. “It doesn’t suit you.”

I averted my gaze.

“I know you were listening long enough and hard enough today, and yesterday, and last week,” My eyes widened as he accurately listed off the days I had been snooping about them. “To piece together the basics of what’s going on here.”

“What are you?”

He scoffed and nodded his head. “Thought so. Unfortunately that one is above your paygrade. Next question.”

“How does this deal thing work?”

“That depends. What do you want?”

“What do you mean?”

If I didn’t know any better, I would say the smirk he gave me was almost pitying.

“People like you always want something,” He shook his head and laughed. “As soon as I saw you, I knew you did. Only a person with nothing to lose would look evil in the eyes with curiosity. After all,” He gestured to the dimly lit room. “You even came chasing after it.”

I blinked at the playful way he just called himself evil.

“But I’m still not quite sure what you want. So what is it?”

A pause. “I want to be one of you.” The words surprised even me.

In the corner of my eye I saw Desperado scoot forward in his seat, looking ready to jump up any second. The rest of the men in the room remained still.

Then, Suzuki threw his head back and laughed.

“I-I know you’re not human. I’m not sure what you are but…I want in.”

Minoru took a step forward. “Oh really?”

“Yeah really.”

He scratched his chin and shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I studied him. “It’s that easy?”

“I didn’t say that.” He shook his head. “I need you to bring me someone first.”

“Bring you something?”

He smirked and it made my stomach feel sour.

“Someone.”

“So do you want to go?” I smiled, hoping it made my offer seem more genuine.

“Let me get this straight,” Ken began, eyeing me in a way that made my neck grow hot with anger.  “You.”

He pointed at me.

“Want to go out,”

Another unnecessarily dramatic pause.

“To a club,”

I nodded, wishing he would get to the point already.

“With me.”

“Yeaahh.” I said slowly. “You in?”

“You know this is unexpected and actually,” His eyes narrowed. “Borderline unprofessional.”

I fiddled with my fingers, wondering if I had just majorly fucked up. I mean, it was clear the guy already didn’t like me. Did I really think I could just ask him out and we’d become best-

“I like it!”

“Huh?”

“I said I like it. Guess you finally realized all that strong, silent shit isn’t going to get you anywhere around here.” He hooked an arm around my shoulders and I tried to hide the shiver that accompanied the contact. “You know, I was worried about I’d have to fire you eventually after you mouthed off in front of everybody last week.”

It took everything in me not to elbow him in the gut so he’d get his lanky arm off of my shoulder.

“But it looks like I won’t have to.” He grinned. “How about nine o’clock?”

“Actually-”

But he was on his way before I could get another word out.

“Damn idiot.” I mumbled turning around…and bumping right into someone else in the process.

"Oh! Um, sorry." I said, righting myself quickly.

Desperado hadn't stumbled at all and his only response was staring back at me with stark white irises.

After a few seconds, I asked, a little irritation in my voice, "Can I help you?"

He glanced over my shoulder at Ken who was still making his way down the hall.

"Is it him?"

"Is what him?"

Desperado crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head in the Ken's direction.

"You know what I mean. Is it him?"

I averted my eyes. "Maybe." My stomach dropped. "What? Do you think - Is he not the right choice?"

Desperado's eyes narrowed. "No, he's actually perfect. The guys hate him and the boss has talked about ripping off his arm off on several occasions. Actually, they hate almost all of the staff here except…" He blinked at me and shook his head. "Is that really all you're concerned about right now?"

"What? Does he want more?"

Desperado regarded me for a few seconds, black-painted fingernails idly twirling the cross around his neck. "I thought maybe you..." He clenched the rosary in a fist. "I guess not."

He turned as if he was about to walk away and I stopped him.

"Wait, you thought what?"

"Doesn't matter. I was wrong." He kept walking.

I groaned. "Aren't you going to answer my question?"

"Yeah." He threw me a haphazard glance. "The boss always wants more."

“What was up with that guy at the door?”

“I don’t know.” I muttered, sick of Ken’s never-ending flow of chatter.

“I mean, what kind of douchebag wears sunglasses at night?”

“He’s always been that way.” I said, trying to the resist the urge to comment on the irony of him calling someone else a douchebag.

“Why is it so dark in here?” He complained. “I know we didn’t have to pay but they could at least have some lights in-”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

Ken and I both jumped at the voice and whirled around to find Taichi leaning against the wall we had just walked past.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Nope. Don’t think he does.” And now Kanemaru was standing a few feet in front of us.

“Naomi? What the hell is this?”

Taichi ran a hand through his hair before pushing himself of the wall and towards us. “I think it’s about time we shut you up.”

“Oh, I see.” Ken said, glancing between the two men. “You brought me here to have your creepy friends rough me up because of that shit at work.”

The two men grabbed on to each one of Ken’s shoulders and steered him back down the hallway. “You’re going to regret this!”

“Will you shut up?” Taichi shook him hard and he grew quiet.

I barely had the chance to entertain the thought of what they might do to him when a dark chuckle made me jump again. My reaction just made Suzuki laugh more.

“Geez. Do you guys make any noise when you walk or what?”

“I see you brought your boss.”

“So that’s it?”

Suzuki’s brow raised.

“That’s how the deal works?”

He laughed once more, but this time my stomach got that sour feeling again.

“Eh. That’s only half of it.”

“What?” I said, getting a bit pissed. “What more do you need?”

A heavy hand rested on my shoulder and I knew without looking that it was Iizuka.

“You.” --- The screeches from the audience announced Suzuki-gun's presence before the announcer ever could.

Desperado and Kanemaru were already halfway down the ramp, unconcerned with the melee taking place behind them.

Iizuka was terrorizing spectators as usual, but it was a little more alarming because it seemed as if no one was restraining him. That was until the man's head was jerked back just as he was an inch away from biting off a chunk of an older woman's nose.

A short woman with chin-length black hair bleached blonde at the ends wound his leash around her hand and yanked him again until he was out of the crowd and headed down the ramp.

Ryou looked on with the rest of the audience in wonder at this seemingly new addition to the terrifying stable.

As the four stablemates made their way into the ring, Ryou could've sworn there was something familiar about the woman touting the leash with an air of stony haughtiness.

And when her eyes scanned over ringside, stopping on him with a wicked smirk before disregarding him just as quickly, he felt almost sure he knew her from somewhere.

But no, he was sure that if a woman that striking and intimidating had ever been in his presence, he would remember.

He tried not to gawk at the woman while she was ringside, observing the action with a strangely serene expression. He had to much to do to spend too much time on it anyway. After all, being promoted to the position of supervisor had its perks, but it was a hefty job to handle.

No wonder Ken left.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #382

“’cuz if i stand up, i’ll break my bones, and everybody loves to see a fall unfold”

Ever had a friend online for a long time without seeing a photo of them? Well yeah. Most of my friends are online, and while I've seen pictures of most at least once or twice, some I still haven't. The last time you threw up, what caused it? It was a side effect of a mood stabilizer I started. Any foods from other countries you would like to try but haven’t yet? I'm sure there's something, idk. Do you think the world would be more peaceful without any religion? Yes. Have you ever had a stalker? No. Does it hurt your feelings when people talk shit about things you love? It makes me self-conscious way more than anything. I start to obsess over whether or not the person things poorly or weirdly of me for liking what I like. I just feel judged for liking it, but that's my problem. Do you like it when people give you nicknames? I do, actually. It feels kinda affectionate to me. Do you often find yourself checking out people’s butts? Haha I'm not gonna say it's never happened, but it's not something I make a habit out of for sure. What fandoms are you in? MEERKAT MANOR IS BACK BAYBEEEE, Markiplier, Silent Hill, Shadow of the Colossus, World of Warcraft, Spyro, Wings of Fire, and lots more, honestly. I'm into a lot of stuff, and I don't love in moderation, haha. Are there any fandoms you used to be in, but left? Yeah, like Supernatural, Good Mythical Morning, or Warriors, but it wasn't out of "I don't like it anymore" or anything, I just drifted away. Anything the fans in your fandoms do that pisses you off? World of Warcraft if particular has one of the most toxic fucking fanbases. There are so many goddamn elitists and people who whine about "boohoo WoW is dying" and "omg this game has been trash since Wrath" and yada yada yada and it's annoying as hell. They always find some shit to complain about. Then Silent Hill... ugh. I think people just hop onto the "the series sux after 1-4" bandwagon to fit in with a certain crowd, but that's not the main thing that annoys me; rather, it's the fact the former main admin of the SH wiki made a fucking joke out of us there. He was clearly having personal issues and made a HUGE and utterly ridiculous deal of Silent Hill 4 having heavy symbolism to the main character being obsessed with the bullshit idea of him being circumcised, and it led to a maaaassive thread of us members trying to talk some damn sense into him as he abused his power. He was finally banned by the Wikia staff, but not in time for some gaming websites to publish "news" stories about it because it was just that ludicrous. Now, YEARS later, we still get trolls coming onto the site to try and revive the drama by inserting absolute rubbish into pages or making new ones. Nowadays I'm the main administrator there, and it's fucking embarrassing sometimes. I'm supposed to keep the wiki under control and respected, you know? Ugh, I'll stop. I could rant for a very long time about this. Do you prefer ruffly or regular potato chips? Ruffly. Do you write down your own recipes, or just commit them to memory? I don’t cook. What color do you want to dye your hair? My top three are pastel pink, lilac, and a light creamsicle orange. I REALLY want to dye it SOMETHING. :( How do you like your chicken? Of course breaded (like nuggets, tenders) is my favorite, but I also enjoy is broiled and seasoned well. There's other ways, but because I don't cook, I, uh... don't know how a lot are made lmao. Do you enjoy cheese fries? UUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH YES. Do you eat refried beans? I absolutely hate beans, so no. What is a food you enjoy, but don’t have very often? A whole lot because a lot of it is from restaurants and we don't eat out all that much. As well, my diet is very narrow just because of how picky I am. Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn? Why? I mean, what are we comparing them for? I think Audrey is fucking gorgeous, though. Marilyn is also beautiful. Favorite fictional world? Uh, I dunno. Do you use lint rollers often? No. Do you carry pepper spray? No, but I want to. Has your power ever gone out for more than a day? I think so. Other than a dislike button, what’s something you wish Facebook had? Hm, I dunno. What time do your parents normally get home from work? Mom can't work right now, but I think Dad gets off around 5PM. Are you afraid to ask people out on dates? Yep. Do you think it’s better to look for love or let it find you? Both can work, but I definitely prefer to let it find me. I feel that *in general* that usually has better results. Have you ever found yourself worrying about commitment? No. I'm a very committed person romantically. Would you get involved with someone if they had a child already? No. Have you ever had a rash from poison ivy? I don't believe so, no. Do you have any chairs in your bedroom? No. Did you watch Elmo as a child? Some, yeah. Do you know anyone who doesn’t eat meat? I don't think so, off the top of my head. When you throw up, do you cry? No, but I'm a whiner and will also shake from fear because I have such a phobia of vomiting. Doing it totally turns me into a baby. Who was the last person to carry you? I couldn't tell you the last person to full-on carry me, but back when I tore a ligament in my foot, my mom kinda had me lifted when she would help me walk. Is it easy for you to accept loss? Absolutely not. I handle it very, very poorly. Have you done anything sneaky lately? No. Have you ever had a rolling back pack? Yes. Who knows you better than anyone else? My mom, probably. Would you ever want to go to Brazil? Sure, if the opportunity came up. Are there any medical conditions that run in your family? A lot, mostly heart problems. What band has the best guitar solos? Metallica imo. Who is the biggest jerk you've ever met? She was somehow my former best friend. Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I've never been in that situation, thankfully. What's a charity you would never donate to? I'm really not familiar enough with charities and their practices to know which ones are sketch or not. Have you ever grown your own herbs? No. Do you have any exes you'd consider dating again? Yes. What were some of your favorite classes you took in high school? Art and German. Mythology was fun, too. Do you know anyone with a profession in law? Yeah, I have a cousin that's a lawyer. Have you ever Googled yourself? Yeah, outta curiosity. What's the shortest amount of time you've had between relationships? Like, two days. Part of the reason I left Girt was because I liked Sara. As a child, what comfort foods did your parents make for you when you were sick with a cold or flu? Chicken noodle soup. What's a movie series where the sequel was better than the original? Ha, for some reason Inspector Gadget came to mind. I guess from mentioning my childhood. I was FUCKING OBSESSED with that movie as a kid. The first one's fine, but I love the second one. Does your car have heated seats? Mom's doesn't. What is the strangest pizza topping you've ever eaten? Nothing strange, really. Describe your hometown. What’s it like there? Small and dangerous. Lots of run-down areas. A gang nearly broke into our house once, if that helps you get the picture. What was the last video game you beat? I replayed Silent Hill 2 forever ago. What did you learn from your last failed relationship? It really just taught me that you need to take care of your own mental health before you can effectively handle another's properly and strike a healthy balance. What country does your favorite band hail from? Britain. What’s something on your to-do list that never actually gets done? Finish decorating my room. -_- Have you ever been really passionate about something but then lost interest? If so, what was it? Good Mythical Morning, I suppose. I used to be OB-SESSED. I still adore Rhett and Link as people, they are fucking wonderful human beings and excellent entertainers, I just drifted away from their content. I don't really know why. Do you sleep with the TV or the radio on? No. What’s the worst thing about being male/female (whichever you are)? Menstrual cycles, I'd say. It affects your mood so much, and as someone who's bipolar, it can be very confusing. I like to know why I'm feeling a certain way. What movie has the best special effects? /shrug How many work hours per week is too much for you? I wouldn't know, I've never really worked long enough to figure this out. Can you remember your first day of school? I think I have the faintest memory of it. I know I was very scared to leave my mom (I had absolutely awful separation anxiety from her) and I MIGHT have cried, but I don't really recall with certainty. Have you ever entered a modelling competition? Would you? No thanks. Did you keep any drawings/stories from when you were younger? Most, no, because the level of cringe is LITERALLY unbearable for me. Do you have a safe? Mom does somewhere. What’s the scariest thing to happen to you so far? The breakup. That night was just fucking terrifying. I was so certain my life was over, like the situation was so, so impossible in my head. What was your last dream about? (or your daydream if you don’t remember) My memory's faint, but I just remember I had a nightmare where a LOT of my bones were totally snapped in half. When was the last time you saw a relative? Excluding my immediate family, I last saw my now-departed grandmother and my uncle a while back at a hotel as they were passing through. Have you ever been in a TV audience? No. Are you in any way close to reaching a personal goal? Not really... Do you prefer crosswords or word searches? Word searches. Do you like making collages? Not really. Do you remember any inside jokes from childhood? No. What would you love to learn to do? Digital art, like drawing on a tablet. Do you prefer monkeys or lemurs? Lemurs. Do you watch movies based on the actors or the movie plot? The plot, 100%. Are you more shy in real life or on the internet? I am WAY more shy irl.