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#and this is coming from someone who actively likes cas a lot

a-writer-on-elm-street · 10 months

Note

Hii i was wondering if you could do the slashers with an s/o who likes being carried around everywhere (Brahms Bo and any others of your chosing)

slashers with an s/o who likes being carried around everywhere

mentioned: brahms heelshire, bo sinclair, thomas hewitt, stu macher, michael myers, tiny firefly

warnings: mentions of murder

a/n: thank you so much for the request, this was so fun to write!

also, i had to put tiny in here because i just love him so much :((

brahms heelshire

the one thing brahms yearns for in his life is closeness, somebody who will never leave him

so when you express that you like to be carried around he can't really believe his luck

he loves being close to you and this is just another opportunity for just that

he'll probably carry you one of two ways; he'll either carry you in his arms bridal style, or he'll carry you chest to chest (i don't really know how to actually describe it)

he hates being alone so he loves being able to have you with him most of the time

he won't carry you around all the time though because he still has his own things to do

bo sinclair

he hates it...or at least, he claims he does

bo usually spends his days alone, either working in the gas station or playing his part to lure unsuspecting victims into the town

he never really has much going on, and if he's being honest, it gets lonely

his brother vincent rarely comes out from his workshop and lester rarely has much to do with the town itself so he's left to his own devices most days, with nothing but his own mind to slowly drive him crazy

the second he discovers you like being carried everywhere, he takes a lot of enjoyment in doing exactly that

he doesn't really carry you properly, he kind of just drags you

it's somewhat like a half-assed piggy back

and although he'll spend the majority of the time grunting and groaning about it, cussing you out under his breath, he actually really loves finally having somebody so close to him

it certainly makes his days less lonely

whilst he's very uncaring though about how he carries you, if you're ill or you're injured, he'll make sure to be real careful with you

day to day though he really couldn't give a shit about being careful but he'll never admit to how much he loves carrying you

thomas hewitt

thomas doesn't like being away from you much, so being able to carry you around is just a bonus for him

he takes every opportunity to pick you up and carry you places, even if you haven't asked

sometimes he'll pick you up bridal style and sometimes he'll simply sling you over his shoulder because it's easier

his family get on at him for doing it so much because you need to pull your weight and such and he's just letting you laze around but he doesn't listen to them

he continues to carry you around because he really just loves having you with him all the time

he hopes you never stop enjoying being carried everywhere because he loves it

stu macher

he loves carrying you around

he's always offering to give you piggy backs

sometimes he'll take you by surprise and throw you over his shoulder and carry you like that

either way, he finds it fun to carry you around everywhere

he has requested a piggy back or two in the past though, which ultimately ended with you almost collapsing beneath him

michael myers

he doesn't really care either way, but there's no way he'll put any effort into carrying you. you either hang off the back of his shoulders or nothing

michael's pretty strong so having you on his back wouldn't really affect his day to day activities

stalking his sister? no problem. you're not even there

murdering someone who happened to get in his way? he barely even notices you

simply walking down the street, having you on his back makes no difference as he simply couldn't care less

he does secretly enjoy having you with him though as he gets lonely sometimes

you're like a little companion he can just take with him wherever he goes

tiny firefly

tiny likes to be helpful so he definitely doesn't mind carrying you around

he's used to anyone outside of his family shying away from him because of his appearance, so when he learns that you want him to carry you around places, he practically jumps at the chance

he loves that you're not afraid of him like most people and is honestly happy to help you out in this way

he enjoys having the company and he also enjoys being able to be close to you, so this is really a win win situation for you both

[Main Masterlist]

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 3 months

Text

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ l went through like a fuck ton of shit [Broke up with my boyfriend of two years, entrance exam, and uh I lost some friends] and 2024’s barely started lol sorry for the late update, i am,,, extremely deep in hurting 👍

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @depresssedcowboy @adorefavv @l0starl @your-girl-mj @nyumeii @iheartamajiki @yoluv-tiannaaa--212 @bakauwu @callsignwidow

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐: 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐎𝐧 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Miles and Eddie make an exchange. A certain nightmare plagues his thoughts. Your insanity unfolds, and so does Miles’ suspicions.

[Warning: Blasphemy, mentioned of fucked up things and crimes, deranged thinking]

MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

“Miles, what would make you hate me?”

The memory was so long ago. Well, to be exact, perhaps it’s been a month or two since it happened. Miles could still so clearly remember the way you leaned your head against the damp wall, your eyes far off into the void of whatever haunted you. At that time, his feelings had been but a spark budding within his chest ever so delicately, a butterfly ripping out of its cocoon in his stomach.

“I don’t know.” Miles whispered into the air. “I don’t think it’s possible to truly hate a person when you know them personally.”

At that moment, you looked at him, with your head half-buried within your hood.

“Why’s that?” You asked, fiddling with the ends of your hoodie.

Miles took a moment to think about how to word his answer.

“When you recognize someone enough to know that they’re not evil people who’d do random shit for shits and giggles, you learn to realize that they’re not really a monster.. At least, not as much as they seem.” His lingering gaze travels towards the ample of your cheek. “I can’t hate you when I know you. You’ve got a name, and you’re somebody’s sister, daughter.. Well, you don’t have to be all that. You just need to be somebody, and you’re somebody to me, and that alone’s the reason why I can never hate you.”

“That’s.. Interesting.” You whispered. “So technically, you humanize your enemies.”

“That’s one weird way to put it, but yeah.”

“But what if it’s a façade?” The words rolled off your tongue seamlessly. “What if.. They’re not exactly the person you thought they were. What if they’ve done more harm than good?”

He thinks about it for a moment.

“It’s not my job to humanize people. People humanize themselves.” Miles answered. “If there’s truly nothing at all about this person that makes them human, or makes me feel like they still have a relatively active conscience inside of them.. I can’t.”

“So you’re saying thay if they’re not human, you’ll hate them?”

“No!” He rapidly shook his head.

“No, ‘cause Miles, I’ll be fair with you. Ion think there’s anything more monstrous than humanity. We are our own enemies. Nothing else causes more pain to a human other than its own body or its own kind, which is why hatred is such a natural thing.”

“Hatred is a natural thing for you, because you grew up only having to think about yourself.”

“Because if not me, then who would?” You spewed. You didn’t mean to sound overtly bitter, but you were. “Unlike you, Miles, my family ain’t the shit. It’s me against the world always— I-If, had I gotten a remote opportunity to care about anyone other than myself, maybe I wouldn’t be this hateful.”

“Well, you got a chance now.”

“How so?”

“You got me.”

You paused, wondering if you’ve heard correctly.

“… I’ve got you?”

Whatever did that statement mean? You’ve heard about a million pick-up lines, but what the hell was this?

“F’course you do. We’re friends.”

Friends.

“Friends?” Just friends?

Miles hums. “Buddies. Amigos.”

Ah, right, that’s how it always starts. Just friends.

Miles snuck his hand into one of his pockets, plucking out something round that you were too lost in your haze to even notice. He seems to fiddle with it for a moment, digging his fingers into its plush before nudging it towards you.

“You want some?”

You turned around and realized he’d peeled you an orange. “.. What.. These are so expensive these days. How’d you even get one?” Your hand reaches out for the fruit, examining its tiny size. You’d heard about the sudden inflation of prices, so fruits inevitably turned into a luxury for most. Miles parts the mandarin and places the larger half on top of your hand.

“.. I stole one from my neighbor’s garden. God did say generous people prosper, so I did him a favor.”

“I’m pretty sure there was a ‘thou shall not steal’ in one of the commandments, Miles.” You laughed, plopping a piece atop your tongue. The tangy, sweet, yet sour flavor bursts right in, making you grimace ever so lightly. “Oh, that’s sour.”

Miles took after you, similarly cringing. “Eugh.”

“It’s probably not all that ripe yet. It’s fine though,” You plopped another into your mouth. “I like oranges— sour things as a whole. They snap me back into life.”

“That sounds sad.” He mumbled, turning to look at you. “Kinda worrying, if you ask me.”

“Well, I wasn’t asking.” You plucked out one of the seeds from your teeth.

“Right, ‘cause you never ask.” Miles took another bite. “You only answer.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know.” Miles shrugged. “I like saying random shit to tick you off.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging your way up from the floor as you staggered from the cold. “Thanks for the orange, Miles.” Running a hand through your hair, you looked out and sighed. He couldn’t help but feel surprised at the lack of your sass.

“You’re welcome, princesa.”

Your brow cringed. “Don’t call me that.”

His finger twitches. He watched as you froze for a moment, turning to look at him. With gentle steps, you approached and leaned down— tufts of your hair brushing against the temple of his forehead. At that moment, he swallows while taking in the scent of your perfume and its ridiculously sweet stench. How could everything about you be so sweet?

You plucked your pen out of his hands. “This is mine.” You reminded of him. Miles didn’t utter a single word til’ your eyes met. Even in the darkness, you saw, but you ignored— well, rather, you tried to ignore it, but it stung.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Miles turned his head, forcibly pushing down the butterflies fluttering like haywire in his stomach.

Hands clammy, heart haywire, eyes unable to meet yours.

“Sure, whatever.”

That day ended there, but Miles knew then. He knew.

Eddie Brock couldn't look past the television store, as his eyes were drawn completely to the news. Not that he couldn't afford a paper, or a gadget of his own— he was simply nervous, figdety, and this ominous pit that holed itself into his stomach unnerved him like a pig carved up for the butcher. He'd known of the news already, honestly, something along the lines of the daily murders and crimes that weren't all too unusual to be fair, and rather than the screen's bright technicolored themes, he was hyper focused entirely on one thing.

The face of Will Barlowe, the almighty senator. Eddie had long been staring at that man's creased, brown skin and slick, blonde hair that was fading into this falsified shade of platinum all because of his whitening strands.

Damn the rich, all of them.

Eddie was no one, like everyone else. A drop of water in the ocean, a needle in a haystack. He was one, like the rest, with the hard workers who carried the economy with their white, blue, pink-collared jobs. He thrived, initially, three years ago. He was an activist then— a journalist in a crisp collared shirt and black dress pants, warning the young about the dangers of climate change, and speaking outwardly in regard to politics.

Now, he was nothing more but a wrinkled jacket-wearing, eccentric and amusing conspiracy theorist scraping the tiniest bits of his dignity to post videos on Facebook or Youtube shorts about how fucked up and dystopian America's grown to become.

When the Prowler, the younger one, decidedly linked him a location allegedly shared by the elites, Eddie wanted to think of it as a chance to shine, to end everything once and for all, and to avenge Anna. For Anna, and for what could’ve been their happy, serene life. But when he arrived, painstakingly clad in plaid while forging the identity of a lost tourist, he was disappointed entirely to find out that the warehouse had been burnt down.

He could still recall the charcoaled crevices of what could’ve been his salvation— that masked boy, the Prowler, promised him salvation in a what-could’ve-been some rich guy’s attempt of a house barbecue.

“Did I make ya wait long?”

A voice reminiscent of a growl. That same shade of neon magenta lingered, popping like a change of color in the melancholy of great Harlem. Eddie tries not to look, but the presence of the boy simmered like fire even as he hung like a spider from the ceiling. He was always like that— the Prowler. The boy was a tall, lanky thing who walked and talked suave. Dominican, he initially assumed. Eddie figured this little vigilante was likely a high schooler with hopes consequently dimmed by the recession.

“Nope.” Eddie attempted to appeal cooly, instead, he only crumbled more. “I’d been watching the news this whole time, tryna check if there was anything about the fire.”

He hears a metal click. “They prolly wouldn’t say nothin’. See, if they didn’t wanna hide it, it’d be all over the television. But it ain’t there, so that means the Chávez’s are hiding the fire from the other families. They prolly paid the witnesses to keep their mouths shut or bribed all the television networks to say it’s some barbecue party gone bad.”

A few passersby couldn’t help but squeak at the sight of the infamous vigilante hanging from a store sign, but they all seemed to know better than approaching him. Trouble was wherever he was, after all, or something the daily bugle said along those lines. They shared glances, sure. Curious, amused glances like how people would marvel at a lion in a zoo.

“It’s,” Eddie finally looked at him. “it’s something ‘bout the Chávez’s?”

With a momentary pause, the Prowler released his grip from the metal poles and dangled down for a second before decidedly letting his feet hit the ground. He was tall— truly, around an inch or two taller than grouchy Eddie. His braids seemed much longer than he’d last seen them. Did he recently get them redone?

“.. That’s right.” Prowler hummed. “.. But we might wanna move some place else to have this conversation, Mr. Brock.”

And where the cat went, curiosity followed down as it made its way to the dark alleyways.

Eddie had a million questions, like any other normal being. The Chávez’s, the Primos, the Barlowes, the Fisks, the Osborns, and all of the other wealthy families connected to one another were all listed down on his kill bill naturally, and he’d been dreaming about the day of crossing out their names with ink made from their blood. Cliché, but a threat either way. Eddie wasn’t a writer, but a journalist anyways. Creativity in terms of wording his hatred was limited and it wasn’t his forte.

“In your past facebook post, you mentioned the Chávez’s briefly,” The boy began, halting by the corner dampened by rain. “I need information about the whole family.”

“… Aren’t you supposed to know the basic information about your enemies?”

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be needing your help.” The two white shapes that proxied as his eyes narrowed, grimacing ever so lightly. “There’s little information about them in the black market, and within the scarcity, most of them aren’t factual.”

“They’re rich enough to be able to squander their wealth on silencing people,” Eddie kicked at a can. “Of course no one knows, but I do.”

“How so?”

Picking at something in between his cheek, Eddie sighed a long sigh.

“… My wife worked as their private attorney.”

He watched the boy take a step back. “.. Your wife?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded. “My wife, Anna. She was taught to keep silent about their crimes, and to find a loophole in every case.” A lump formed in his throat.

The Prowler stared. He couldn’t make out whether it was an empathetic or judgmental one. “.. So your wife covered up the Chávez’s crimes?”

“A part of it.” Eddie mumbled. “There’s more to the elite than we know, Anna had to burn her files after every case, so she couldn’t snitch or post them after she quits.”

His head turns. “… I see.”

He sees the boy shift, weirdly, fidgety. He couldn’t particularly describe the unease this young vigilante conveyed. It was almost like he was on the verge of asking something, but his mask made it harder to read what he was desperate to know about.

“.. So can you tell me?”

A simmering silence sunk into the gaps of their conversation.

“What’s in it for me?” Eddie asked, knowing he shouldn’t have, as it was obvious and painstakingly accusatory.

“Why do we have to have transactions when it comes to justice?”

Eddie paced. “Capitalism.”

“Fair point.” The Prowler sighed, rocking on the ends of his neon shoes. “Well, what d’ya want?”

Eddie thinks, and thinks. What could a conspiracy theorist— no, a journalist want? Could he ask for a man’s death? The head of Barlowe? The head of Chávez? Or could that only be achieved after this gamble? He looked at this boy, and Eddie pictured this teenager basking his hands in blood.

What would make him any different from the elites?

“… When you went to the warehouse, you guys.. Took evidence? Even a USB, right?”

He stared. “Yeah, we dug it up and we tried sending it to every news outlet we could find.. All of them rejected the information.”

“Why?” Eddie furrowed his brow. “Was the information incomplete? Did you send the evidence beneath a credible name as a source?”

“Credible name?”

“Yeah, if the information comes from a credible source, they might do something about it. Likewise, if the information is complete, they might take the risk, after all, the Chávez’s are old money, and they have a lot of influence in regard to politics. If they publish anything against them, without complete information, or if you’re just a bunch of trespassers regarded as criminals by the media,” Eddie held out a finger. “Someone will get shot.”

The boy swallowed.

“If not you, if not your partner, it’s the journalist. Always the journalist.”

And Eddie’s seen too much of his co-workers wound up as mere victims in a headline. ‘Journalist shot dead.’

And he didn’t want his name to be reduced to a John Doe in one of the many causes people are too afraid to fight for.

“… I’ll tell you all about the Chávez’s, if you give me the records you stole from the warehouse.”

The Prowler stood, seemingly caught up in his thoughts for a moment. “.. Okay, but I’m telling you, don’t make a large move without consulting me first.”

“I still want my head attached to my head, of course I’ll consult y’all first.” Eddie chuckled, his fingers pouring into his pockets. “Then, what do you want to know about the Chávez’s?”

Without missing a beat, he answered.

“You can give me all you got. Recent scandals, fuck ups.. Perhaps, you got anything from the collapse of the Aureum building three years ago?”

“The Aureum building,” Eddie echoed, reminiscing like a veteran released from war. “That was the messiest thing I’ve ever witnessed in the last ten years. The lawsuits, the bribes, and the social media mayhem—“

“The deaths.” Miles cringed, remembering his father. “Surely, that was the most fucked up thing.”

“Aside from the architecture? Sure.” Eddie pulled out a box of cigars from his pocket, wringing out a single stick. “Weak scaffolding, quick-dry cement.. Put two and two together, and everything collapsed as soon as the opening began.”

Miles wallowed, grimacing at the sight of the habit. “Could it have been planned?”

With a flick of his lighter, Eddie took one breath in and sighed. “Could? There’s no ‘could’, boy, it was planned.”

Planned? Planned by who?

Were the Chávez’s really masters at self-sabotage? Or were their enemies really just each other?

“You see, the Chávez’s specialize in human trafficking, slave trade, and child labor. The people they ship work tirelessly for other businesses without a fee— because we, you and I and the rest of us who had the freedom to earn education, refused to work under hellish circumstances and poor environments. Without us, precisely, without the poor, the rich are nothing.”

“Then the Aureum building?”

“The Aureum building was a cover-up for a bigger scandal.” Eddie tilted his head. “The people inside were likely witnesses, or people who knew about the human trafficking.. And when the building collapsed, they sued the construction companies involved, got the money, but damaged their reputation.. And I don’t see why they’d do all of that just to damage their reputation.”

Miles pondered and pondered.

“.. It was probably someone from inside the family who planned everything.”

“That’s what I think so too.” Eddie added, blowing off another puff of intoxicating smoke. “Someone who won’t suffer from the damaged reputation.. Yet someone who still manages to benefit from it all financially.”

“… Could it be.. Any one of the siblings?”

Eddie takes a step back, likely thinking about it. “.. Well, the other one’s in London, the other one’s too stupid, and the last’s a minor.”

“Minor?” Miles repeated. “How young are we talking?”

“.. Well, the last time I heard about the girl.. She was thirteen, and it’s been three years since then, so she’s probably fifteen to sixteen.”

It’s not as though a thirteen year old could possibly plan out such a meticulous plan… Well maybe, or maybe not, it’s not as though Miles was the only genius capable of great things.

“You know any of their names?”

“Names.” Eddie furrowed his brow. “The last girl’s protected by the law, since it’s illegal to paparazzi minors.. But the first two are Montrell and Anthony.”

Montrell. Mon. Three children. Two older brothers. One girl. Sixteen, sixteen years old just like you.

Miles swallowed.

It’s as though he could feel your hands blocking your vision, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

He falters, alerting Eddie. “What’s wrong?”

“.. My head just hurts.” He mumbled, turning his head. “I think I kinda overworked myself. I still got a date.. Need to.. Rest.”

“Date?” Eddie blew. “That’s right. You’re quite famous, ain’t you?”

Miles rolled his eyes, able to freely express his distaste for the supposed compliment behind his mask. “I try not to be, don’t wanna make her think about it too much. The broad shoulders don’t help as much, though.”

“She know all ‘bout your..” With his cigarette squeezed between his ring, Eddie gestured at him. “Your little vigilante thing?”

Leaning his head against the brick wall, Miles crossed his arms and shrugged. “She better not. Don’t wanna make her daddy even madder.” He lowers his gaze a bit, his mask naturally zooming into the title of Eddie’s cigarette box. It was the same brand as your brother’s, likely a different flavor. Mint or something. Everyone around him smoked too much.

“She from the finer part of York or what?”

“The finest.” He recalls your brother’s luxury car. “.. But I think she’s tryna hide it.”

Eddie plucks the cigar out his teeth, a sort of accusatory yet mundane expression scribbled all over his scruffy face. Eventually, he laughs it off. “That’s all of what’s wrong with our society. The poor pretend to be rich and the rich pretend to be poor. They like romanticizing poverty but likely won’t be able to find comfort if they walked in our shoes for ‘bout a damn mile.”

“She ain’t nun like that.” Miles butted in. “She’s sweet, my girl. Cruel, sometimes, but that’s how ladies gotta be from time to time— seeing as how the world fucks them up every now and then.”

“.. That your first date?” Eddie asked.

“I guess. We’re kissing, but we got no label.”

Eddie scoffed an old man’s scoff. “Your generation’s got me fucked up. Y’all and your situationship bullshittery.”

“It ain’t like that.”

“It’s always like that.” Eddie narrowed his eyes. Miles similarly cringed, wondering how Eddie could be so bitter— having to remind himself seconds later that the man’s poor wife was dead. Dead as hell. As dead as his father. “If she can’t even be upfront about her wealth, she’s likely hiding something from you.”

“My man, I’m lucky she even looked my way. You know nun ‘bout her, don’t be like that.”

“And what if she’s from the oligarchy, huh?” Eddie exaggerated. “What if she’s a Fisk? A Barlowe? Hell, even worse, what if she’s a Chávez?”

Miles didn’t reply.

As the puff of smoke emanated through the damp air, suddenly, Miles pictured you holding a cigarette while grinning at him wickedly— and somehow, that tantalizing air.. Suited you like the slip of a glove.

“I’m just kidding w’ya, man.” Eddie laughed, flicking the cigarette away, crushing it with the sole of his wrinkled boot.

“Ain’t funny, Ed.” Miles grumbled. “People I loved died in Aureum.”

“But she’s still rich, though. You can never be too sure ‘bout the kind of secrets her family’s keeping. If push comes to shove, will you still be able to love her if you do find out that her family’s fucked up?”

“Stop it.” He angrily seethed. “Stop.”

Eddie watched with a certain stank in his eye.

“… Y’know, there’s a rumor that one of the Chávez kids are illegitimate.”

.. Miles left seconds after.

It’d not been his greatest day, and earnestly speaking, his gut’s been clamoring at him to listen, only for him to reject its pleas. He’d thought about listening— to whatever higher being was calling upon him to stray away from you.

His Mama told him to pray throughout his struggles. She’d not been a zealot, his mother. But she was no stranger to the novena, to pray and to call for help in such long days. He’d been subjected to it early on: the novenas, the masses, the lingering of frankincense in the air. Though she never truly coerced him to participate in the church, Miles simply titter-tottered throughout those dull Sunday evenings.

He didn’t want some higher being to stop him from becoming a horrible person; Miles wanted to be good on his own accord.

But you.. You made him question. Not you, but himself.

Though his dad always told him to question everything while he’s young, Miles couldn’t question you. How could ever question you?

An illegitimate child. Which one was it?

Your brothers, who had everything?

Or you, who had nothing?

And although Eddie left the alleyway unscathed, Miles felt that blood had stained his hands.

And you could still taste blood in your mouth.

You could still hear the crunch of that man’s neck echoing in your ears, his tiny pleads of self-preservation before the snap to his death. It rang and rang behind your eyes, between your ears, like a haunting melody you couldn’t help but repeat.

The memory of his fear merely energized your veins, but left you gawking in dauntness even as you worked your way through the hotel— showing Montrell the ropes and tending to the preparations for the upcoming charity event. The snap, the way it snapped— the way his neck snapped was a musical lyric that pulsed and pulsed in your mind.

Snap.

ＳＮＡＰ.

The idea of fear intrigued you, cannibalism, however, not so much. The symbiote immensely argued with you, that it wasn’t your body in particular feasting on human flesh, but the symbiote itself. It needed to be fed, and it needed sustenance— but you didn’t know where else to find that sustenance.

“Miss?” Charlotte, the head housekeeper called out to you, snapping you back from the profanities of your mind.

Suddenly, you’re back staring at the new, tall, stained-glass windows— basking you in the glory of pale lights in shades of ethereal yellow and blue. It’s been under construction for quite a while now, but after your father had approved of the idea, you were willing to wait long enough to see its outcome. You’d only gotten the news just a few hours ago in regard to its completion, and now you’ve been staring at it for a while now.

“Yes?” You stifled airily, wallowing in a hundred emotions.

Charlotte bows her head for a moment, unveiling an approaching guest.

Before you could even process to question who it was, Montrell and his gentle eyes appeared before you. He seems to marvel at the windows before you as he takes another step up the stairs.

“Wow,” He huffed. “Is this.. Your design?”

You simply looked at the window with crossed arms and a smile. “I couldn’t forget about the windows when we went to Veronica’s wedding. I liked.. The colors and the drama it endowed.” You smiled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “.. This was my final project in the hotel.. I’ve done so much to rebrand everything, but we still can’t do much ‘bout what happened in the past.”

The lights dawned upon the both of you.

“Does it hold any special meaning?” He asks.

You shrugged. “It varies on the person, I guess. I think, those who don’t really know me will try to put meaning into all that I do, but those who really know me know that my art is plainly.. Meant for aesthetic.”

Montrell frowned. “How can you make art without passion?”

“.. You pick up a pen.” You carved a smile. “And you just draw.”

You draw, and you draw. Carved it in, like how a knife would pierce a sack of flesh. Murder the canvas with each stroke, and if they ask you ‘why?’, answer with ‘why not?’.

“I think.. Only Miles can place meaning in my art. After all, my passion resides in him.”

“Like a proxy.” Montrell darkly laughed, shaking his head. “.. I wonder how hard you’d break once you lose him.”

You turned your head to look at your brother’s charming face.

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning,” He remarked. “After all, how could he ever love you once he realizes that our family’s responsible for his father’s death?”

You turned your head back to the windows. “… I feel guilty, actually. I don’t really know how to approach Miles if he ever comes to realize my identity.”

“.. Don’t you feel lonely having to constantly push away the people you love?”

You shrugged. “I’m a pretty girl. Pretty girls are never lonely.”

“Sure.”

Montrell looked at you. To be precise, he eyed you, and he looked at the way you casted your eyes downward. From a mile away, one would believe you fostered insecurity and shame in the way you’d stare, but knowing you and the way you were, that downcast gaze of yours imbued disinterest and a heightened sense of.. Superiority.

No matter how hard you try to appear empathetic, you were always and inevitably still a Chávez. Even in the way you pursed your rouged lips, or spoke with eloquence, or held your head high.. You and your siblings, who were forged to become heartless from the beginning, were never bound to be kind.. Or good.

But could Miles do it?

Could he actually change you? Humanize you?

Make you kind and loving, and normal?

You tightened your grip over your arm. “I.. Was going to escape tonight, originally.. For our date. He wanted us to have a halloween date. It’s so dorky. He’s so dorky.” The way you fawned was genuine, though. He could see it so clearly. “But after daddy mentioned the USB, I didn’t know how to face him without feeling guilty.. I came to meet Miles with the intention of using him to get his dead dad’s stuff but I ended up.. Falling for him. I never knew I was capable of feeling like this.”

“.. When we’re too busy to survive, it feels frustrating to have to care for someone else. That’s why our family doesn’t feel like one.” Montrell whispered.

“We’re not a Greek tragedy.”

“Exactly, which would mean,” He turns to you. “You’re likely still savable, [N/n].”

You lightly winced. “.. I haven’t heard that nickname since I was twelve.”

Your brother chuckles at the reminder. “.. We called you that since you couldn’t pronounce your name when you were three.” Montrell heaved a long breath, as though he were a dreamer reminiscing the times. Ah, he truly is a sucker for what’s long gone, huh? “Antonne and I were so excited to have you. Your first word was my name, actually, Mon. I had to sneak up into your cradle every night just to make you practice say my name. Mama used to hold you in her arms whenever I got home from school, and she used to read out my cards with you in her other hands ‘cause you were one energetic kid.”

Oh, so like a normal family?

We were capable of having that this whole time?

…

“[Y/n]?”

You snapped yourself back to reality, Montrell’s voice leading you out of your internal monologue. “Did you hear my question?” He queried. “You kinda zoned out there.”

“Sorry, I was thinking ‘bout something. You were saying?”

“Once you get the USB.. Are you going to leave him?”

The question seemed far fetched from the previous topic, which caught you off-guard. You turn your head. “.. I don’t know. I’d rather make him hate me, and have him leave me first, because I don’t think I can ever bring it upon myself to leave him.”

Such a romantic.

“Do you think you can handle it?”

“.. It’s not a question of whether I can handle it, it’s a question of whether Miles can handle it.”

Montrell murmured. “.. What if he gets revenge?”

“Revenge?” You repeated, the idea sounding funnily dramatic. “Revenge on me? I didn’t throw that building over his father’s head.”

“Ah, yes, but there’s a thing called karma.” Montrell spoke as thought to remind you. “It’ll be out there to get you, or at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

You couldn’t help but aimlessly ponder. “… Why do poor people believe in futile things such as karma?”

The way you worded it, and the way it exited your tongue seemed unusually natural. Montrell, who’s been too used to such words, only shrugged. “Cause there’s nothing else to save them. That’s why they have a god, [Y/n]. They can’t save themselves, and so that’s why they believe something otherworldly will.”

Before you could speak, Montrell looked out into the glass windows before turning to you.

“Speaking of which, I think you should use daffodils for the upcoming party.”

“.. Daffodils?” You repeated.

Your brother nods. “Yes. I find them to be quite lovely.”

Since when did he have an interest in flowers? You internally squirmed. “Where the hell am I going to get daffodils in autumn?” You groaned. “We can use other yellow flowers for the golden theme.”

“Well, you’re not in charge anymore.” Was his attempt of a tease. “Surely there are still daffodils here in this season. We’ll have to find the best greenhouse in town.”

“But why?”

“Because I said so.”

You sweetly casted a glance at him, smiling as a thought crowed at you.

A sharp pain shoots through Miles’ head. A pulsing, familiar pain— resembling a bullet, dove straight into his subconscious.

He stumbles back as darkness clouds his vision, a sort of slithering and slimy feeling coursing through his system like a snake seething beneath his skin. His heart was hammering against his chest. It was like that time during the warehouse, where he felt genuinely uneasy and unsettled. The eyes of that figure behind the window, watching him tremulously stare back.

In the cage of his mind, Miles finds himself inside a dark void— where the silence was loud enough to hear the sound of a pin drop.

Then there was this drumming.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The melody was unfamiliar, but the voice nostalgic. Miles crawled amidst the darkness, searching for the voice, only to look up and catch the sight of a pristine, delicately made shoe. It kicked against the front of a desk, making a rhythmic pattern. Thump. Thump. Thump. With each passing moment, his eyes continued to linger upward, from the shoe, to a leg, to a waist, to your pretty face.

You sat there, above the desk, with your pretty hair and your pretty eyes, puckering up your pretty lips along with the song. You were so idly calm, so leisure while singing so softly, he could hardly make out the words exiting your mouth. A dim, green light cascaded against the silhouette of your figure, further accentuating the pink of your lips and the darkening of your gaze.

You smiled, but your eyes held nothing. Like you never knew what kindness was, even in his presence. You never looked at him like that before— like you hated him enough that you wanted him to die.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The thumping was growing faster and faster with each second. Upon seeing his struggle, a stifled laugh laces the lyrics.

Miles tried to move, but his whole body writhed in pain— like he was beaten, defeated. His arms itched in burns and scars. With the sound of your hum, Miles looks up, only to see you cross your arms before your chest, the tip of your shoe gently grazing against the skin of his temple. He feels as though he was being watched, idly, by an audience that had no interest at all in intervening. Like everyone was amused to see him.. Kneeling before you.

Click. Click. Click. The cutter clicked in your palm as the blade rose higher.

It’s like your presence alone was enough to blind him, and his conscience kept crawling back to you no matter how hard it tries to stray.

Really, who are you, [Y/n]?

Why was it whenever you lingered in his dreams, you were the cruelest person to exist?

And why was it that Miles knew that he’d probably still adore you with your hands around his neck?

“.. Miles?”

From a gentle shuffle, Miles awoke to the sound of his mother’s voice.

Miles jolted up, his skin half drenched with cold sweat. Unfortunately enough, his awakening was nothing avian. On the contrary, his awakening felt like a somber chore. The material clung onto him like glue, making him utter a groan. For a while, he helplessly looked around like a child lost between rows of linoleum aisles, his mind hopping from question to question. 'What just happened? What was I dreaming of?'

Like some hungover drunkard, he gently peeled himself away from the sweat-stained sheets and begrudgingly sat upright. Rio’s gentle hand cradled his aching head.

“Rest, mijo, you’re exhausted.”

“Mama, I—“ He broke, running a damp hand over his head. For a moment, he flinches, checking to see if his hands were covered in blood. “What happened?”

His mother’s dark curls lightly brushed against his temple. Her eyes were just as exhausted as he was, with dark circles rimming the doeness of her gaze. “I got home to you taking a nap but you kept squirming. I was so worried. Que paso?”

He looked around, realizing he’d dropped himself unconscious atop the sofa.

“.. Nightmare.”

Night terrors, to put it precisely. It’s been haunting him since the death of his father three years ago. He thought they’d long vanished after meeting you, but after his suspicions arose, his anxiety came crawling back like a dreadful stench.

Rio handed him a glass of water, to which he gulped down to its very last drop— like he’s been thirsting for all his life.

“Mama,” He called out. “… What do I do?”

His loving mother creased her brow, shaking her head. “What is it, mijo? What’s wrong?”

He runs his hand over his face, wondering how to begin. At that moment, Miles recalls your sweetest smiles, your loudest laughs, and your warmest hugs.

You held his hand, dragged him out of that maze, and you vandalized the hotel together. You tore yourself away from the expectations of your family, and went to him.

You chose him.

But could he go so far to assume that you loved him?

Rio shifted comfortably, trying to appear more welcoming to whatever catastrophe Miles was about to unleash. “What’s wrong, Miles?”

Miles couldn’t even admit it to himself, though he’d long noticed, he preferred to remain ignorant ‘til the truth was spilled from your own lips.. But he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Blood runs thicker than water, but both feel the same when your eyes are closed— and that could mean many things.

“A lot, ma.” He buried his head into his hands. “And Ionno if I could deal with it all.”

“You don’t have to deal with everything, Miles.” Rio frowned. “You’re only fifteen. Eres demasiado joven. Con el tiempo todo se arregla.”

“Me duele la cabeza.”

“Ponte vaporub.” Rio stood to grab the small, blue ointment. As she unscrews its green cap, Miles was immediately hit with its loud, minty scent. Digging her fingers into the substance, Rio smears the vaporub all over Miles’ forehead. “Sana sana colita de rana, si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.”

He lightly moved away with a sigh. “I’m not a kid anymore, ma.”

“I’m your mother, you’ll always be my kid.” As the cooling sensation sunk into his skin, he felt his mother’s palm cup his cheek. “And since you’re my kid, I always get worried about you. I know we ain’t got nothing much, but we got each other, Miles. You’re a great kid bound to achieve great things.”

He wasn’t too sure about that. That whole great kid thing. You had your fingers entangled all over his puppet strings, and it made him hesitate.

But what if that was exactly your plan? To ruin him entirely for your benefit?

“.. Ma, what would you do if the person you liked lied to you about their identity?”

Rio sat in silence.

“.. Que?”

Ah, fuck. That’s a stupid question.

“Nothing.” Miles turned his head. “Sorry, that was a stupid question—“

“No, Miles. I didn’t mean to— I just, you like someone? A girl?”

Miles shifted uncomfortably. Rio softened. “A boy?”

“No, ma!” He exclaimed, embarrassed. “I-It’s a girl. I like a girl.. Por los clavos de Cristo.”

“Oh, I was preparing myself.” Rio placed a hand over her heart. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d accept you no matter what, I just didn’t have a long wonderful speech prepared for it.. But what’s wrong with the girl?”

“Well, ma, it’s just..”

“Did she cheat on you!?”

“No! We’re not even together yet, ma. We were gonna have our first date today, but.. But her family’s been treating her horribly, and her older brother picked her up while we were out buying costumes for our halloween date only for him to directly tell me that it ain’t happening.”

“And then?”

“She talked ‘bout her dad throwing a fit, and now she hasn’t replied the whole day.” He slipped his fingers through his hair. “I even woke up at six in the morning just to get my braids redone at Tasha’s… And they invited me to a party at their house on Sunday.”

“Sunday? Then— that’s great!” Rio exclaimed, placing her hands over her son’s shoulders. “That would mean they’re open to getting to know you. Well, I think you can borrow some of your dad’s old clothes for the party, you two look great in suits anyway.”

“W-Well, ma, that ain’t entirely the problem, she’s..” He swallowed. “Ma, I think she comes from a very rich family.”

“Okay, and?” Rio raised a brow. “Did she ever make you feel inferior for having superior wealth?”

“.. No? Well, she’s been trying to keep it on the down low this whole time, but.. Whenever I see her, she acts so.. Proper and polite when she don’t even notice it. And her brother’s British too, and I— Ionno how the hell that happened, but he sound like the type to spit out tap water if I ever brought him to a restaurant.”

“Well, you’re dating the girl, Miles, not her brother.” Rio sighed. He thinks of it for a moment, then shrugs. Only then he notices his mother’s wide smile, her shoulder nearly glued onto his.

“So.. Who’s the girl?”

Miles fiddled awkwardly, unsure how to answer. Rio seemed adamant for an answer, so, after a while of internally mustering up sentences, Miles replied. “Her name.. [Y/n].”

“Mhm.”

“She uh.. Sixteen. I-I met her three months ago.. And we started doing graffiti together since then.”

“Oh, so she’s an artist?”

Miles gaped. “S… Sum like that, yeah.”

Your art varied. Your colors were blander while his, more vibrant. But there was something about the way you drew, that was so meaningfully realistic that it captured entirely how your mind pondered in its darkest moments. An art style that captured entirely the darkest of what life could bring.

He remembers going through your sketchpads, how your dabbles consisted of dull realism. Maybe it was only dull because it was exactly what New York’s become— cold and calloused.

But in contrast, you were able to set his world on fire in a way he’s never seen. Only you could paint over the dullness with scarlet, in a way that had him choking from the smoke emanating from your fire.

But he couldn’t tell his mother the way you’ve worsened him.

His mother wouldn’t let him get too close to someone as bright and dangerous as you.

“Why haven’t you mentioned about her before? I could’ve helped!” Rio tossed her dark curls to the side. They’d always reminded him of the dark sea. “Es puertorriqueña? Puede hablar español?”

“No,” Miles thinks about it for a minute. “I-Ionno, actually. She never told me anythin’ bout it, but she can’t speak Spanish so I ain’t sure.”

Rio attempted, no she really did try to attempt— to hide her disappointment. Were her grandkids bound to forever be free of her culture? How saddening.

“Pero creo que ella está estudiando español.”

“Oh?”

“Sí.” Mile seemed to lightened up. “She’s so cute. She can’t even pronounce ‘roja’.”

“But she’s trying.” Rio could not be any happier. “She’s trying! Eso es bueno! Ella ya me gusta. Not everyone tries these days, you know.”

He wondered if his mother was faking her enthusiasm just to ease him. He’d expected her to be more.. Angry about it.

“.. I’m surprised you’re not upset, ma.”

“Upset?” Rio furrowed her brows. “Miles, how could I get upset? You’re experiencing what every other teenager experiences, that’s great!.. I know you’ve been trying to act like an adult to help us, and you’ve given up so much just to keep us afloat. I’ve been getting worried that you’ve been focusing too much with adult responsibilities that you’re forgetting that you’re just a kid. You’re allowed to go around and be a kid. You’re allowed to like a girl— so long as she’s not a bad influence.”

Miles pushes back the thought of you being a smoker.

“She’s not a bad influence. She’s.. Just going through a lot.. She makes me happy, ma.”

Rio looked at him proudly. Only then, she wondered if her dearest husband ever brooded like this too upon realizing his feelings for her. She wondered if Jeff ever pouted the way Miles did, and looked out into the world with such admiration in his eyes as though he were shaping the void into an image of her.

Jeff loved, and thus, Miles could love too.

“If she makes you happy, then I’m happy.” She beamed. “So long as she’s not a brat or an alcoholic, or a racist, or any of those bad people, I’ll accept her.”

The mother shared a loving glimpse of her son, making out an image of her late husband in the way he smiled. Suddenly, she pats her lap and stands up. “Bueno, I’m making adobo.”

“I can help—“

“No, sit down, you’re tired.” Rio held out a finger. “Take a rest, Miles.”

“But Ma—“

“Rest.”

And he did.

Well, he tried. It was a subtle attempt. A poor one, at that. He sat upright by the sofa, listening to his mother chop up the potatoes. He tries to discreetly look into your messages, only to find you’ve finally texted back.

her ♡ || two minutes ago.

sorry i haven’t texted!! 😭😭

remember the party this sunday? my dad is making me help with the preparations so i couldn’t go to our date

i’m really sorry 🥺 don’t get mad

if you want, we can do it tomorrow.

Miles pouted. He didn’t want to reply immediately. He didn’t want to look desperate.

So he waited for another five minutes.

.. Even though you made him wait for six hours.

He switches the television on in attempt to distract himself from your message.

‘Last night, a horrific murder happened within Brooklyn, as the body of a beheaded man was discovered outside of a local bodega. Witnesses claim that an alien disguised as a teenage girl had ripped off, and eaten the man’s head.’

“The hell?” Miles burrowed his brows upon being greeted with the news on television. “An alien?”

He watches as the screen switches over towards one of the witnesses, a scruffy man with reddened eyes— evidently too lost in whatever he was taking to speak too calmly.

“.. They’re prolly high as hell.”

‘I’m ain’t even [censored] with y’all— some [censored] ripped off Kyle’s head— it was a horrific looking piece of [censored] made out of black goo or whatever the [censored]. The government’s [censored] making alien [censored]!

‘So far, there have been no records of the scene, as the cameras had been blacked out.’

“What the f—“ Miles grew mindful of his language upon realizing his mother was in the other room. “How the hell did that even happen!? Blacked out my ass.”

It was more or less, likely a murder related to the elites. One of their kids must’ve been hanging out with those junkies and killed a man for fun.

A phone begins to ring. Miles turns his head.

“Miles, can you get that for me?” He heard his mother, who was too busy chopping up something, call out.

He turns off the television, hops out of the sofa and heads straight into his mother’s room. As he flicks the light open, a king-sized bed greets him with its gray, large glory. He used to jump on that bed too much when he was a kid. Now, it looked.. Desolate, and almost deserted. With how large the bed was, he couldn’t help but ponder how lonely his mother must’ve felt, sleeping in a bed less warmer than three years ago.

Miles passes by the closet, and after foraging for a bit, he manages to find his mother’s phone atop a drawer— swiftly grabbing the gadget before turning to leave.

As he turns, his foot accidentally nudges against a box.

He peers through it, before kicking it away.

Making his way back to the kitchen, he hands the ringing phone over to his mother before curtly returning to the room to close the lights.

But as his hands reached out towards the switch, his eyes were drawn back to the sight of the box.

It looked like it’d been cast aside beside the closet.

Hearing his mother speak over the phone lightheartedly, something about something. Miles trudges towards the orange, cardboard box, kneeling by the floor with a single knee down on the wood. His hand curiously glazes over the top, feeling a pile of dust collect over his fingers.

Hesitantly, he takes off the lid, finding a familiar white, collared shirt. He pulls it up to the ceiling light and watches as it unfolds into a larger sheet.

This belonged to his father’s.

He looks right back into the box, finding a pair of black, dress pants neatly folded into a square. Meekly, he tugs on it, hoping he wouldn’t uncover anything sinister like a severed hand or an eyeball. After pulling the whole thing out, a longer line of black unravels.

A strange array of emotions lingered inside him.

Nostalgia. Wrath. Happiness.

It smelled like dust, and it was forever devoid of its owner’s scent and warmth.

“Miles, do you want juice?”

“Huh? Y-yeah.” He stammered. “Grape juice would be nice.”

His mother’s comment slips past his ears. For a moment, he pondered about wearing this to the Sunday party, but he couldn’t help but think how it likely wouldn’t fit him. His father was a giant, and he was quite lanky.

Upon hearing his mother’s footsteps, Miles hurriedly and clumsily attempts to refold the clothes, only then hearing a soft clatter. He pivots his head to the side.

There was a USB.

“For the florals, I think daffodils would be great.”

Your hands skimmed across the air in attempt of drafting an idea. From afar, you manage to earn a wider view of the banquet hall. Workers left and right helped with tidying up the refectory, scrubbing up windows and mopping up the floors. “It would match the golden theme, don’t you think?” You asked of Charlotte, who nodded wobbly with her dire age.

As of that moment, you’d been preparing for the layout of the party. As much as you didn’t want to listen to Montrell’s suggestion, you figured getting on his bad side would be a bad move.

The fundraiser, originally hosted by your aunt, was planned out to gather enough money to support Senator Barlowe’s projects. Your family was to auction off high-priced materials such as clothes, jewelry, paintings, and even estates for the sake of meeting the goal. Which would also mean that the highest of the elite would be attending the party.

And you were less than thrilled to be its co-host.

Charlotte marvels at your suggestion, taking it with a smile but a pique. “However, daffodils can’t usually be placed with other flowers, so I’ll have to make a special request to the florist to do the preparations extensively.”

You raised a brow. “Why can’t they be placed together with other flowers?”

One of the maids carrying a porcelain vase walk past you, making you gently remind her to put it aside.

Charlotte parts her palms. “They secrete toxins into the water. So whenever it’s placed among other flowers, the rest die.”

“Oh,” You widened your gaze, processing this newly found information. “How did you know that?”

Charlotte blinked, trying to think back. “.. Well, daffodils were used for your mother and father’s wedding. It was a struggle, since the day of the wedding, half of the bouquet had already wilted.”

You stood back in surprise, crossing your arms before your chest. “Mama must’ve been furious.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Your father plucked flowers out from the gardens and made her a bouquet himself.”

Wait. What? WHAT?

Wow, who knew your daddy was quite the romantic?

I’m just as shocked as every other person.

“M-My father?” You dumbly repeated. “My father plucked out the flowers himself? Or was it Mr. Nigel?”

“Your father, himself, Miss.” Charlotte laughed, finding your shock to be quite amusing. “He’s quite great at it too— flower arrangement. Your grandmother taught him from an early age.”

“My father truly arranged the bouquet for him and mama’s wedding?” You couldn’t believe your ears. “He has that sort of talent?”

“Why, of course!” She beamed a warm beam. “Like you, he used to oversee the interior of the hotel. He has great taste when it comes to color, and you’ve inherited that side of him.”

You tried to think about it, your father— who was now an old man with a permanent sneer on his wrinkled lip— arranging flowers in his youth, picking out pastel and cream curtains for the parties, and overseeing the menu. It didn’t seem like something he’d do, at all. Then again, your mother used to describe him in a way that made it tragic.

A good man, never a good father. Torn between yearning to be held in arms that never welcomed him and finding his worth beyond the standard of his own father.

You tried to sympathize with him. Your father.

Though he was who he was, he cared about you, in a twisted, fucked-up way. Your engagement with Richard Fisk was privately decided after the hotel went near-bankrupt had it not been for the Fisks and their mystical talent for cover-ups— and your father simply took most of your managing rights away just so the family you’d marry into wouldn’t use you for their own greed.

The fate wasn’t entirely horrible either. You’d marry into new money, sure, but their wealth would most definitely preserve the comfortable life you’re living right now.

It was your own greed that was worsening you.

Your desire to have a tantamount of power.

But what if you never needed it?

“Miss!”

What if all you needed was a peaceful life? Marry into the Fisks, host parties, and care no more about anything?

“Miss [Y/n]!”

.. But what about Miles?

He hadn’t answered any of your texts yet.

“Miss [Y/n], a call.” One of your secretaries came crashing through the doors with his phone. How you hated that word. Call. A signal of what would definitely exhaust you. Where was Montrell? Why weren’t they calling out for him? Were you really the only one able to handle all the messes in here? Workers left and right stopped as he trudged up the stairs, nearly tossing the phone over to you. You slip it close to your ear, making your way down with each click of your heel.

Charlotte watches as you listen to the caller with such intent. Silently, you eyed your surroundings before heading out.

As you reached the patio, you looked out into the dimming violet evening that was fading out along with the scarlet of the sun. The caller rambles on, something along about the recent incident.

“I’ve bribed the higher-ups to rush the investigation and to arrest the witnesses. We’ll release the story that they had murdered their friend after taking drugs.”

“Good.” You plucked out your vape from your pockets. “Report to me immediately once you find all the records about their families and their identities.”

“Understood.” You hear the sound of Morrison’s computer typing. Likely writing up a list. “I’ve also halted the investigation of the fire. I’ve told your father the information was tracked from an accidental leak after a delivery of the samples to one of the families had the address exposed. Sir Anthony will have to take up the blame since it was his idea.”

You took a long huff. “Good job. You did well.”

The smoke lingers, and you close your eyes.

Sorry, Antonne. You’ll live, I guess.

“Morrison,” You called out to him. “.. How’s Miles?”

The typing comes to a halt. For a moment, the two of you shared a moment of silence. You picture him pushing his glasses up higher off the bridge of his nose.

“.. I’ve spent most of my attention on other things, so I haven’t been able to check up on him yet.”

“Ah, is that so?” You mumbled. “Never mind then, just continue on with halting the investigation. I’ll take care of the rest, and remember, if any of the witnesses start describing my face—“

Clack.

You turned your head.

What was that?

ＳＯＭＥＯＮＥ‘Ｓ　ＨＥＲＥ

No shit.

Beyond the gardens, the skies were beginning to dim. That familiar shade of magenta, it lingered like a ghost and it haunted you like your past. There was a click that set your mind off, and suddenly you couldn’t help but feel like the world was integrating itself into a technicolor, dotted comic.

Then and there, spying on you from the top of the six Corinthian columns of the garden, sat the young Prowler.

“Miss [Y/n]? You were saying?” Morrison pried from you.

You parted your phone from you ear, a side of your grin heightening into a catty smirk.

“… If any of them start describing my face, take care of it.”

Then and there, you ended the call with one light tap. You remained stubborn with your posture, seemingly amused and befuddled by it all while keeping your head high. The boy watched you curiously but stiffly, as if he were unsure of what to do. You were mutually frozen, but you couldn’t allow any sort of weakness to seep through the cracks of your confidence.

You took a step close, and he tenses. The sound of your heel clicking against the tiles sends an echo into the garden.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You greeted of him with sincere politeness, placing a hand over your hip. Was it an attempt to appear idle or what? “… It’s quite an honor to have you here as a guest.”

“Who are you?” The boy growled, voice delved baritones deep. “Really.”

You tilted your head.

“Who would you like me to be?”

His gauntlet unfolds, and suddenly, he launches himself at you, grabbing you by the neck.

[A/n: I PASSED MY FUCKING ENTRANCE EXAM GUYS]

154 notes · View notes

doumadono · 4 months

Note

I don’t know if this counts as an emergency request, feel free if to ignore/delete this if it isn’t or if you don’t want to write it

but I’m just so angry right now that I feel like crying.

my mom passed away last march and her best friend is managing her trust. My or my siblings can’t since we’re all underage. She’s been selling and giving away things that belonged to my mom without even consulting us first. She first sold the house she’d been living in for the past 8 yrs (my parents are divorced so we’ve been living with my dad) that we were wanting to buy. She tried selling my mom’s antique Barbie collection that is INCREDIBLY sentimental to us. And she might be trying to sell her freaking wedding dress and ring. (I’m sorry if this is ranting, I’m trying not to)

could I request a Kirishima or Giyuu x reader who would be going through similar things? Just basically a bunch of angry tears

(Again, please ignore this if you do not want to do this.)

A/N: I'm so angry to hear about the difficult situation you're facing. Losing a loved one is challenging, and dealing with the management of their belongings adds another layer of complexity. It's completely understandable that you're upset and frustrated. In such cases, it might be helpful to seek legal advice. Given your age, you might want to consult with a guardian or someone you trust to explore options for managing your mom's trust more responsibly. Documenting your sentimental attachment to specific items could also be beneficial. If you need a listening ear, don't hesitate to message me. I trust that these small headcanons will manage to elicit the slightest hint of a smile on your face

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Kirishima

Kirishima would be the epitome of emotional support. He might not fully understand the intricacies of your situation, but his empathy shines through.

Kirishima's anger isn't just about the items; it's about protecting your feelings and memories. He firmly believes in standing up for what's right, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. "Your mom's stuff means a lot to you, right? I can't stand the thought of someone messing with that."

He suggests a proactive approach, perhaps talking to the trust manager, explaining your emotions, and trying to find a compromise.

Kirishima would spend time with you, engaging in activities that could help ease your mind – maybe a training session or a casual outing.

Kirishima would certainly surprise you with a small gift – a custom-made keychain representing your mom's hobbies or a necklace with a pendant with her picture inside. "I thought this could be a little reminder of the good times. Whenever you look at it, you'll remember her smile."

The setting sun cast a warm glow over the city as you sat with Kirishima on a quiet rooftop. The distant sound of traffic filled the air, but for now, it was just the two of you. Kirishima, sensing your distress, suggested spending some time away from the chaos.

The gentle breeze rustled Kirishima's spiky hair as he spoke, "I get it, you know? Losing something important... it sucks. When my aunt got laid off, we had to sell a lot of stuff. I remember feeling so powerless. But your situation, it's awful. It's so fucking unfair."

He glanced at you, his red eyes softened with empathy. "But we're not powerless now. We can do whatever it takes. We ca meet her and tell her how much these things mean to you. We can contact the authorities to accuse her of adverse management of property. There must be something we can do. Whatever you decide, I'm with you."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Kirishima handed you a small, carefully wrapped package. "I thought this might help. A little something to keep your spirits up."

Opening it, you found a silver necklece with a pendant with a tiny picture of your mom inside. Kirishima smiled sadly, "Whenever you look at it, please remember the good times. We'll face this head-on, together."

Tomioka

Giyuu is more reserved, but his empathy is strong. He might not express his anger openly, but his actions speak volumes.

He listens patiently as you vent your frustration, understanding the depth of your emotions.

Giyuu doesn't express his anger openly but conveys deep empathy through his calm demeanor. "I can't fathom your pain, but I'm here for you. We'll find a way together."

Giyuu suggests a more subtle approach, like writing a heartfelt letter to the trust manager, explaining the importance of these items. "Words have power. Sometimes, they can be more impactful than actions."

He may take you to a serene location, like a quiet lake or a peaceful garden, providing a calm environment to discuss your feelings.

Giyuu, with his calm demeanor, took you to a serene lakeside retreat. The peaceful setting was a balm for your troubled soul, and together, you reflected on your mother's memories.

Underneath the canopy of cherry blossoms, you and Giyuu sat in silence, the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the lake providing a soothing backdrop. Giyuu listened attentively as you shared stories about your mother, each memory a delicate thread binding you to her.

"You have a beautiful way of expressing your love for her," Giyuu spoke softly, his gaze reflecting a mixture of understanding and empathy. "Let the water carries your sorrows away. Feel free to let it all out, darling."

As the sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Giyuu suggested writing your thoughts on paper, symbolically letting them float away on the lake. The letter, carefully crafted, held the essence of your emotions, a silent plea for understanding.

"You've been strong through this. Your words will find their way to her heart," Giyuu assured, stroking your nape slowly.

#emergency request #kirishima fluff #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka #demon slayer giyuu #kny fluff #mha fluff #anime fluff #kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #eijiro kirishima #giyuu x you #demon slayer fluff #kirishima #kirishima bnha #tomioka giyu x reader #kirishima eijirou

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tidbit-fanfic · 1 month

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dean, sam, and cas as dogs?

All y’all saying German Sheperd, Great Dane, and black Lab, are partially incorrect. And as someone who has been raised by dogs (practically) I think I know a few things…

Dean is definitely a German Shepherd. End of discussion. (I love how we all collectively agree on this.)

I mean it makes sense because of Dean’s Dog Day Afternoon with Colonel, the German Shepherd.

He also looks like those ‘German Shepherd boy aesthetic’ thingys.

These dogs also tend to be extremely overprotective of their family, along with being self-assured. Sounds familiar huh?

They’re also working dogs, and normally the frontline for police/military, and search and rescue.

Also, did you know they’re listed as the third most dangerous dog type, with most hospitalized dog bites being from the German Shepherds? (Somebody bring back the one episode where everyone is like “you have to kill him, he’s the Dean Winchester.” Insinuating that this man is very dangerous)

Also, bite=bark.

They can also be very goofy and playful with those they know, but a bit abrasive to strangers.

Personally I see Sam as an Irish Wolfhound, or and Irish Setter.

Obviously we have two choices here, but I’d like to mention these are both hunting dogs.

Wolfhounds are more commonly known for their large size, but not quite at Great Dane level yet. Plus, they’re muscular enough to catch, and kill a wolf.

Wolfhounds are smart, and prefer to be independent, however, they can be exceptional guardians when it comes to family.

Their also overly friendly to strangers, unless there’s a direct threat to their family, and are normally known to follow leaders.

On the other side of the coin, Setters are a very active dog breed, plus, do me a favor and look at the hair. (Flawless and long?)

They’re commonly seen as therapy dogs, and have a tendency to ‘play deaf’. Otherwise they are very intelligent, and can be destructive if left alone to their own devices. (No Sam I’m never letting the whole ‘I drank demon blood while my brother was dead for four months’ thing go.)

And Cas is either a Shiba Inu or Saint Bernard.

Shibas are stubborn, strong willed hunting dogs.

They are also very affectionate and can pick up on some undesirable behaviors. Aka, the Shiba scream.

I honestly don’t have a whole lot of backing behind this theory, but it just gives the vibes~

Saint Bernards (I LOVE THESE DOGS) are gentle giants bred for rescues in the Swiss Alps.

Now, their mostly patient, calm dogs. They have a large bark which is good for discouraging intruders, and can be trained for tracking and search and rescue.

PLUS HAVE YOU SEEN THE EYES? Tell me Cas does not make that face? The confused, huh?, face???

Anyways, thank you for coming to my Ted talk

#dean winchester #spn imagine #supernatural #supernatural drabble #supernatural brainrot #sam winchester #castiel #supernatural imagine #someone sedate me #no seriously

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onmyyan · 1 year

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Caspian at Christmas

T/W: Yandere shenanigans, suggestive themes, Cas being a cutie, christmas is celebrated by reader n Cas but just for the fun stuff like cute clothes n warm drinks and none of the religious trauma lmao (EDITED 12/16/22)

A/N: Not Requested, Sum short n sweet for the kids🖤🖤🖤 I still have a tooon of requests I need to post which I'm sorry for the delay about, they are otw pinkie swear okay onto the story!

Growing up Christmas was always your favorite time of the year, from the sweater weather to the permanent smell of coco and peppermint, it all wrapped around you like a blanket, comfy and simple.

Being the hopeless romantic you were, the cheesy things couples did around this time always called to you, back then it felt like a members-only club you couldn't get in but now you had Caspian, someone with an even bigger boner for all things rom-com than yourself, and really, who better to share these things with?

Cas has a very similar line of thought the moment he steps outside and his breath can be seen in the cool air, his mind quickly began to race around looking for the best way to celebrate the year coming to an end, his best year at that because the universe had gifted you to him.

In no time he opened the triple-locked folder on his phone, it contained intensely specific dates for you two, all detailed with your most likely reactions and how much you'd enjoy said activity. At this point, he had a rough draft for every occasion.

It took a lot of strength but that morning he managed to force himself away from your sleeping form without a kiss. He'd been planning this specific date since he found out about your love for the season, now was just the best time to execute it.

Having grown up in a full house of 7 there was always food being made, usually by the house matriarch with Caspian dutifully at his mama's hip, long before the rest of his family would rise, so he'd mastered the art of cooking quiet enough not to wake someone.

He made sure to time it all perfectly to be finished around the usual moment your pretty (e/c) eyes started to flicker open and bless him with another day together, the breakfast would be themed and like most of what he made, almost look too pretty to eat

Almost anyway.

"G'mornin Sugar. You're free today right?" He would ask setting the tray on his side of the bed before taking your hand to his lips, unable to resist himself, he would press small kisses into your knuckles as you agreed, making sure to act happily surprised when you respond as if he hadn't already seen and memorized your schedule for the week.

"What did ya have in mind hun?" You asked rubbing the sleep from your eyes, a gesture he couldn't help but coo at, as if reading your mind he gently lifted the steaming drink before you, tipping the smooth coffee gently into your parted lips, at first his little habit of hand feeding you was a little jarring but he was just so endearing and sweet it wasn't long before you indulged him, after all it wasn't so bad being doted on like a princess.

His smile was worth it all, the pleased little hum you'd hear whenever you did something he enjoyed which, if we're being honest here, was most things, had a familiar warmth settling in your tummy.

"I wanna take you out. Go get our tree from this cute little farm, it's a thirty-minute drive so I wanted you full before we left."

Something about the language he used had heat rising to your face. Ours. The simple word holding so much weight.

His gaze held you in place as he took you in, always staring that one, if it were anyone else you'd have been uncomfortable but he made you feel like artwork being examined.

He'd installed bedroom camera's for a few reasons, one of his favorite's though, had to be the ability to capture and replay moments like now, where you'd get that awe'd look on your face, completely surprised someone would do something like this for you- but he would, he'd do anything to keep his soulmate happy, this was nothing in his mind, not with what he had laid out for the two of you down the line.

Our boy is a long-term planner, he knows how he's going to propose, where he'll take you for your honeymoon, and the kind of house you'd buy together(read: the house he's going to buy for you both after he finds out exactly what you like) the bakery you'll open and co-own, the dog you'll have(he's planning for one but would literally get you an emu if u asked for it- the man is flexible okay?)

"Thank you for breakfast baby, did you already eat?" You pressed a small kiss into his hand, returning his previous action much to his delight. Your free fingers delicately danced along the road his freckles mapped out on his skin, tracing the little constellations with a sigh you relished in the peace he brought with him everywhere.

"Oh I'm gonna eat- soon as you're done," the wicked grin on his handsome face twitched with intent for a split second before returning to that warm look from before. The kneading grip he had on the meat of your inner thigh told you everything you needed to know about his plans. "N' I've been a good boy so, I get my breakfast in bed."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere oc caspian #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #caspian delmont #caspian x reader #my oc

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castielcommunism · 2 years

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I’ll just make this its own post but like I remember about a year ago when the fandom was at a high point, a lot of people were heavily invested in posting about supernatural as a queer allegory, reading queer subtext into it, and analysing it as if it were a piece of queer media. There was a lot of meta posting about doing like gender studies and queer academia to it, a lot of it being half ironic but a lot of it also wasn’t. And that’s not inherently wrong, but I think it gave people a very convenient “intellectual” reason to not engage with spn on other terms (ie, it being a show that is deeply concerned with racial purity and racial hierarchy). If it’s a show about oppressing the gay angel or about dean being female coded or whatever then you can be given a very convenient lens to approach spn critically, and to perform that criticality publicly, but leave the other bigoted elements (racism primarily, but also ableism and misogyny) on the cutting room floor. The classic “I’m not racist, I’m gay” routine, but given a more academic polish to it.

And to be clear I’m not accusing anybody of deliberately using “supernatural gender studies” or whatever as an excuse to ignore or downplay the racism in the show. The show has 327 episodes and there is a LOT of content that can be discussed and analysed through various lenses, and one perspective or interpretation doesn’t cancel out another. But I think if you primarily engage with spn as this grand queer allegory, or think its most grievous sin was the homophobia directed at cas, then like I’m sorry but I think you’re injecting too much of yourself into the story and need to take a step back. I think there’s a popular trend in fandom where people are expected to preface their critical perspective on a piece of media before they’re “allowed” to engage with it, and the path of least resistance for a lot of white (mostly lgbt+) fans is making hay about about the homophobia and then trucking ahead like all the work is done.

So like no you don’t need to write a college essay about how problematic spn is before you’re allowed to make memes about it, nor am I shitting on people who want to engage with spn as a queer text (I have made a bunch of posts about it myself!), nor am I also saying all the queer studies posting was done by white people in the fandom because that is obviously untrue. I just think it’s a very easy and comfortable frame of criticality that people get to use and then not really give a shit about anything else in the show beyond that. Which isn’t actually being critical, it’s just the performance of it. Again lol I don’t want to belabour the point, I make a bunch of critical posts about spn and I’m very much involved in that part of the fandom, so this is coming from someone who has spent a great deal of time in this environment and actively contributed to critical spn posting or whatever you want to call it. It’s just a trend I think people need to be mindful of, that’s all.

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douwatahima · 3 months

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idk i'm feeling kinda riled up today and i want to talk about why the fight for ofmd is so important to me.

so listen. i've been in fandoms for a loooooong time. i remember when the sheer idea of a show (that wasn't something like, say, queer as folk) having any sort of lgbt representation was a major rarity. the idea of a random character suddenly coming out in your favourite sci fi/fantasy/action show? no way in hell. and those of us in fandom kinda came to accept that. we were queering the hell out of everything we came across, don't get me wrong, but it was because the idea of a series suddenly having a character textually be queer was just…not a thing that happened most of the time.

then came the age of queerbaiting. as someone who was in the supernatural fandom from very early on, i remember how those first few seasons of the ~great destiel saga~ felt to watch. they actively hinted at and joked about their relationship! they acknowledged the elephant in the room! surely they wouldn't do that unless it meant something!!! but then of course came the years and years of the cast and crew sneering at the people who had the audacity to…listen to the words that came out of the character's mouths and have thoughts about them. and yeah, eventually (like a decade later) cas told dean he loved him, but even now the people who worked on the show seem reluctant to say that that was a romantic moment. and that's just one example that i'm more intimately familiar with! there are so many others! just straight up gaslighting queer fans so they can keep making money off of us with no intention of actually giving us what we want; all while acting like they were doing us a favour by doing anything at all.

and it sucked! it clearly sucked! but the more time went on the less surprising it became. because at the end of the day it came down to what it always comes down to; money. there's this idea (not just in media) that there are certain people who are the "default". people whose experiences are universal and easy to understand. white people. straight people. cis people. when it comes to media, stories about these people are seen as something anyone can watch and understand. but when you try to tell stories about people who fall outside of these categories? well, now you're making niche content that only people who fall into that niche will be able to identify with.

and look, i know i'm preaching to the choir here. this is tumblr. we all know there's a lot of racism, sexism, homophobia, and transphobia in the world. my point is that the narrative around queerbaiting from an industry standpoint seemed to be "yeah, we want the ad revenue from all of these lgbt people watching our shows, but if we commit to actually making any of our characters queer we're going to isolate our straight audience and lose most of our viewers". and there was never any concrete way to disprove that. so yeah. we would occasionally be blessed by a ~very special show~ that actually depicted queerness (usually about younger people coming out, or about the tragedies that can and have faced people in our community), but the idea of branching out beyond that seemed like a no go.

and then along came our flag means death. a show about pirates that also talked about toxic masculinity and had characters who were casually queer in every different variety and also featured people with different body types who came from different cultures and who were all treated with kindness and grace. a show that didn't necessarily market itself specifically as ~a queer show~ (which, was probably in part due to trying to bury the lead which sucks, but the point still stands) but rather a fun show anyone could watch. that wasn't specifically about coming out or tragedy but was more so about joy, and community, and love. and here's the thing. here's the wild as fuck thing that happened. this show? it didn't lose all of its viewers when those last two episodes of season 1 aired and it confirmed without a shadow of a doubt that ed and stede were in love. the opposite happened. this show fucking soared into the stratosphere.

i remember the first time i saw those parrot analytics charts showing that ofmd was the most in demand new series; out performing marvel even. i was so overcome i legit broke down in tears. because it turns out all of those times i had been told to sit back and accept the scraps i was given because that was all my community was profitable enough to get, those people were wrong. we could've had this the whole time! WE COULD'VE HAD THIS THE WHOLE TIME!!! and as the weeks progressed and ofmd remained at the top of every chart, as the show continued to succeed, i felt such an immense amount of joy! those people were wrong! we can just have this and it'll do well!!!

and yeah, apparently that wasn't enough to convince the powers that be. they spent forever deciding whether to renew it and when they finally did the budget was cut nearly in half and the people at max decided they needed to oversee the show a lot more. all of this sucks. but the thing is they made season 2 and they fucking did it again! the show got even better critics scores than last time! the show was doing numbers better than season 3 of succession! the merch, only released in october, became some of the best selling merch of 2023 on the max shop! by max's own admission season 2 was one of the biggest hits of the year for them!!! like, what more is there? the show is a success!!!

so yeah. i'm not going to accept the fucking stupid excuses max gives as to why they cancelled it. saying that it didn't have the numbers (it did), or that they didn't know how to market violence (they do), or that it didn't have awards buzz (it has literally been nominated for awards and there's still active fyc ads the company itself made) just doesn't cut it. there was no reason to cancel it other than the idea that diverse media "doesn't sell". and max, by airing this show you have shown me that that fucking isn't true. it's never been true. so i'm going to keep fighting for this one until someone picks it up or until i'm old and grey because it isn't just about ofmd. it's about the belief that our stories, the stories of people who aren't "the default" are worth telling. by every metric they are worth telling. and that is something that i know is worth fighting for.

#tv: our flag means death #ofmd #sorry this gets kinda preachy i have a lot of feelings about this

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presentlydean · 10 months

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my god the revisionist history in this fandom sometimes, like. i guess some part of me should be glad that people watching it in 2023 can watch supernatural and say, this show was not queerbaiting, dean and cas are obviously together and anyone who watches it should know, and the confession was redundant and useless, but.

guys.

i'm not saying this undercut the work of many writers who spent years layering in details of queer subtext, parallel storylines, and meaningful moments between dean and cas. those things exist—alongside actively homophobic text, yes, but they exist, and they are important—hugely so to me. but there is a reason why destiel is a case study in academic works on queerbaiting. there's a wink and a nudge that comes with a lot of the queer subtext in the 2000s and 2010s, where creators can allude to their characters being queer either by having other characters joke about them or by putting them in queer situations, but the audience is supposed to be in on the ‘joke’ and nothing is meant to come of it. nothing was meant to come of the queer subtext on supernatural. it was always meant to be queerbaiting.

i'm going to call out season eight/season nine era specifically because it was mentioned in one of the posts i'm vaguing (if you see this—i just didn’t want to reblog yours to be grumpy and contrary so i made my own—no ill will!). watching supernatural as season eight aired was actively painful because you would see these parallels between sam and amelia and dean and cas; you’d watch the writers layer in romantic tropes for dean and cas; you’d have dean on his knees, bloody, saying “this isn’t you, i need you;” you’d have all the deans cas was brainwashed to kill; you’d have “he’s in love…………………with humanity”—and then a fan would go up on stage in a convention and ask a simple question about the relationship between dean and cas and get eviscerated. that's if you manage to get a question about them past the censors—oh! because questions about ‘destiel’ were literally banned.

a teenager says she’s bisexual and is booed by the convention audience and dismissed by jensen ackles (“i'm gonna pretend i don’t know what you asked,’ as i seem to recall him saying) for saying she sees a lot of herself in dean and asking if he might be bi. homophobic jokes from the actors. big, blow-out fights between fans and creators. a bigwig getting on twitter and calling fans delusional for pointing out what was actively happening between the characters and what it implies (this is where misha collins’s “your not crazy” tweet came in, and let me tell you people held onto that one like it was a lifeline—because it was). people quit the fandom then, a lot of them, because of how vicious it was. people would send anon hate to destiel shippers telling them to kill themselves while literally quoting jared and jensen’s nasty comments on dean and cas. after that point, even the show started trying to dismantle some of the affection between dean and cas after that point (cue someone asking about the relationship between the characters and jensen saying they don’t really have one this season, and it’s refreshing because the dean and cas thing has been blown out of proportion).

as someone who was a young adult and had imprinted on this show like a baby duckling, it was just a straight up bad time. and i'm sorry, you cannot say that just because there was a subtextually queer connection between dean and cas at that point, the show wasn’t queerbaiting. if the creators cannot respond to polite questions about the basic queer subtext of their show, that’s queerbaiting. it just is.

and as for the confession? it was hugely important. and half of what made the confession powerful actually was “in just saying it,” not just for the characters, but also given the fraught context of the show. in speaking it, they made it real in a way that it wasn’t before simply because of the cultural context it exists in. they said the thing that they had forbidden.

when i say ‘unparalleled media experience’ when talking about supernatural, i really do mean it. never have i seen a show so actively hateful towards its fans turn around and say, no, we were wrong, you were right (and then weirdly try to reverse it after the show ended????). i stopped breathing when cas started his confession because, after the pain that came from season eight and nine, i never thought they would get as close to explicitly stated destiel again. and then they did it. they said that right there. after all those years.

dean should have kissed him.

#destiel #supernatural #junespeaks #queerbaiting #sorry a couple of posts got me worked up tonight #have a rant #and really if you wrote one of the two posts that prompted this #i do mean you no ill will. i just have a lot of feelings about this #and i think that people forgot how bad it was to be in the fandom at that time #it really hurt #and what we got was important #even though we didn't get everything #suicide mention cw #homophobia cw

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samkat10423 · 3 months

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Some more lots

Didn't get much done yesterday, since I'm lazy. And the weather here has finally left the minus digits and is semi-warm. Plus - our furnace which died right at the beginning of our Artic Winter phase - was finally replaced. Took 2 weeks to get one, but it works so no more freezing our tuchus off.

Anyway, I decided to work on a beach lot to replace that one over by the Wolff house. Recurve Strand - or something like that.

This is another Lili lot that I altered. Where that scuba shop is, she had a bar and some picnic tables. I got rid of that and built the little shop. Then I placed a lifeguard chair and awning - so my stupid sims don't drown. I really don't care if they do - gets rid of the stupid gene from the DNA gene pool - but the local sims all seem to care. Inside those 3 little builds, I made them more functional - as is: I got rid of all the unnecessary crap that was inside and made them into actual changing rooms. Later on, I'll add that surf thingie that EA sold in the store, so my stupid sims can surf. And maybe some yoga mats so they can channel their inner zen. But for now, this is it.

Then I hopped over to where that Lofty Cerulean pool was. My whiney sims complained that they were breaking out in rashes whenever they took a dip - like my city council cares. The local doctors - who attended the meeting - reminded them that they could treat their rashes for an astronomical fee. All they have to do is come to the ER, but they insisted that the pool needed to be upgraded. After all of 30 minutes of deliberation - 25 of which were spent on bathroom breaks - the council came back with their answer. NO. After all - as they told them - if you can come all the way to city hall to picket and throw temper tantrums, you can walk to the town pool.

With that, they bulldozed the old lot and built some tennis courts. They did leave the old building - where they sell booze, because they can. In an effort to save some simoleons, they recycled some old street signs and made some cheap tables and chairs out of them, and used some old crates to make a bar. Plus, they used some old jars and made lights. Progress as Promised! (That's their campaign slogan).

Then I decided to get rid of that live show venue the game automatically loads. This little bar was made a gazillion years ago by someone over on MTS - before the Seasons ep. I don't think he's active anymore since he threw several rants about EA over there. Anyway, it had a fake "glass" domed roof that just let the weather in. So, I got rid of that and added a new frieze to the roof. Then I kicked out the back and sides - so I'd have room for the stage. Plus, I added that roof stuff, used some different plants and added a parking lot. Plus, I gave it some actual doors. (He just used arches).

Inside, I got rid of everything. I think the only thing I kept was the wall and floor finishes. I used Sandy's tropical bar set, then recolored dive bar counters to match it. Those totem poles I just recolored. I think they came with that Island Paradise set. Where the pool table is, there were a couple of arcade machines, but I have an arcade, so I got rid of them. Then I placed some showtime seating so sims actually watch the acts. I mostly used the Tiki sets to do this build. I'll go back in and use the invisible dance floor later to replace the game one. (I just wanted to make sure I had room for a dance floor).

Outside, I used stuff from Island Paradise for the patio. You can't see it, but there is that Late Night bubble bar - probably the only thing I kept from the original build. I also used that smaller stage for this build. I really didn't go crazy with stage decor. I have an acrobat in town, but not much else right now.

Then I went back to Agnes's house to finish taking sims into CAS. This house was built by plumbob for their updated SV save. I have always hated the original, and this one still has a modern vibe without looking totally stupid. They did get rid of the nursery inside, and replaced it with a large guest room. But I fixed that by dividing the room and adding an unfinished space with baby stuff. It's roped off using that roping from Late Night. I moved her niece into the semi-finished area. I figured Agnes was originally going to hire a live-in nanny to help with her baby, which is why the room was so large. I decided to keep the niece at the child phase instead of making her into a teen. Right now, Agnes doesn't like her much - and her father (my town acrobat) even less. But since she is an attorney, she sued for custody. And won. As in RL, simoleons talk.

#sims 3 #Sunset Valley lots #more drama in town!

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a-zira-fell · 9 months

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This post is a Work in Progress and will be edited.

The Second Coming

Jesus comes back in a Judgement Day kinda situation - some Good Omens thoughts

(Footnotes under readmore) (1)

1. Who is Jesus?

At the time of the setting of Season 3 (2026?), he should be in his mid thirties (2)

A carpenter? It seems in keeping with the humour and charme of GO that he may well be a carpenter

I don't care about Jesus's gender at all. Might be a guy, might be a girl, might be neither or both, but what i know for sure is that Jesus has to be queer (3)

2. His Parents

Son of a Carpenter and the 'Virgin Mary'

maybe their names are Joseph and Mary maybe not

Young couple just got pregnant (Jane the Virgin type situation?), decide to keep it, one time there was a weird posh guy who told her she would bear the Second Coming of the Son of God and she replied "I don't even want an abortion, man" and forgot about it (4)

Punk adjacent working class parents in the 90s

Atheist-raised Christ?

3. Jesus had a hell of a weird childhood

Sparks of divine energy at random times, often emotionally triggered

Brought objects to life and revived dead pets for friends

4. Good Omens tie-in

The events of GO 1 may have triggered something in him (5) and since then miracles happen more and more frequently and he's learning to control them

He finds himself speaking truths he can't quite wrap his own head around

There are still bursts that are linked to emotions, so sometimes it's not as easy to hide. With social media and all

It has attracted people to him, some of whon may see in him the Second Coming of Christ. It's true, he knows, but it feels like a dark secret because there is so much he doesn't understand

It's like a cult that he's barely a part of, yet he is the leader

5. His Environment

He's got this close circle of friends but twelve is a lot by those standards and it's mostly just hanging out with some of them at one time

There are few occasions with all of them present but it's always a good time.

Jesus doesn't have a favourite. He has some friends that are closer but everyone contributes to the group.

He still feels set apart from them all except:

6. Judas

is the boyfriend

Absolutely devoted to Jesus but also a natural born helper who puts the cause first and manages the budget of the group as organisers of protests or booths at pride

Crowley finds he is easy to tempt to do many things, but his resolve to protect Jesus is unwavering, temptations that involve Jesus in any way don't catch on Judas (6)

Jesus relies on Judas a lot. He's torn between his fate, this whole unknown side to the world, and Judas, his foot in the real world. His rock in the stormy sea.

7. Miscellaneous

Jesus has for sure taken apart a queerphobic booth next to a church once, at the far side of a Pride Event

He was drunk one summer night and came by a plum tree in someone's yard, plums not ripe just yet. He cussed it out half jokingly, forgetting about magic bursts. Then next day the tree is completely shrivelled up

Got thoughts about Jesus? 💌 (69)

(1) yeah, it's that kind of post

(4) is there one christ per generation? That never goes off bc it's never the time. Like a switch needs to be switched to activate the sleeper agent Christ within. (All humans are made the same. Anyone could be christ.

(2) to my knowledge (adequate) Christ's birth is placed ca 4-7 BC, making him 34-37 in 30 or even 37-40 in 33 ad where his main work that we usually know him from (not the carpentry) took place.

(3) I'll refer to Jesus as he in this post bc that's easier

- is there one woodworker's kid per generation, across the globe that is just Soooooooooo fucking weird?

- does Gabriel visit one mother per generation and activate a Jesus Gene or ...

(5) or was the book of life used to activate that?

(6) I am a firm believer in 'Judas tried to deescalate the situation in Jerusalem before Jesus could come to any harm by choosing the lesser of all evils, which to him seemed to be having Jesus arrested and locked up for the duration of Pesach.' This plan however, spectacularly backfired. He unknowingly sent humanity's God-approved sacrificial lamb exactly where it could be most effectively used. Poor sod. He was just in love and unaware of the power of a mimetic crisis.

---

(69) This is the last footnote. Please step into my inbox 💌 with opinions and ideas. As I update this post, I will tag to credit ideas that weren't mine.

#good omens #the second coming #jesus #crowley #judas #quip #my writing #wip

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death-himself · 3 months

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ok season finale thoughts

THANK GOD they put in Luke training Percy, honestly that's a change I really like. The medium of film allows you to do flashbacks like that, and that's a really good change. they had me worried but thank god

I started checking how long things were for this episode to determine how I felt about pacing, the Ares fight was roughly 6 minutes long. For a 40 minute episode I think that's decent, but I still wish it were longer

the entire fight I thought they were on the beach in CA, so I was very confused when the Montauk cabin was there until later in the ep T-T

thinking about it though, the pearls teleporting them to Montauk is a nice change, especially since this Poseidon explicitly cares more about Sally

why were annabeth and grover trying to argue to keep the bolt?? that just...did I misread that scene what the fuck why

I guess it was just because they were worried about percy dying but like, it felt weird

that first shot of olympus, just incredible, loved that

the throne room...kind of underwhelming

BUT i paused for like 5 minutes counting the thrones, there are 11 and then a HEARTH FOR HESTIA I CANT I LOVE THAT

hestia gives away her throne to dionysus, so it doesn't make much sense, but since dionysus is at camp most of the time I think that works. plus I just love hestia so no complaints about that

Zeus is the first god to actually feel like a god, wish Hades also felt that way, but loved Zeus

rest in peace Lance Reddick, he was perfect in my opinion, I think it'll be hard to top him

the switch to Ancient Greek was cool, also really appreciated that they used the proper pronunciation of the gods' names (at least I think it's the proper pronunciation)

the throne room scene felt very similar to the book, so I'm pretty happy with it

they changed annabeth's hairstyle the second she got to camp lol

the aphrodite and athena cabins saw her come back alive and was like "awright time for a makeover" she was there for like 20 minutes max

I know a lot of people have been talking about how dark the show is, but as someone who hasn't been having that problem, the fireworks made those shots look so cool

I really hope people having that problem are also able to see in that scene, because the lighting is just so nice

AND THEY DID THE FUCKIN THING AGAIN Percy figuring out Luke so quickly, I got so mad, can this kid be tricked once

ok, how I would've done that scene so it's still somewhat the same but more interesting: they start going over the lines in the prophecy, they reach the betrayal line, queue a slow look of realization from Percy, swelling dramatic music, then maybe have Luke realize Percy's figuring it out and he trips Percy to the ground and pull out the scorpion

fuck the tell don't show thing they're doing, Percy didn't have to outright say, "o you stole the bolt" WALKER'S A GREAT ACTOR have him have that look of realization with the audience, he's shown he has the acting skills to pull that off really damn well

anyway Luke's "I'm here to recruit line" was my favorite part of that scene, that line felt scary

and I know they were probably going for a parallel of them training in the woods earlier vs actually fighting each other, but that didn't really feel necessary to be honest, we didn't really need that fight scene

and Annabeth revealing herself and Luke visibly panicking, I liked that too

this scene had a lot of cool things, but the way we got to that was disappointing

dionysus straight up not realizing percy's name wasn't peter wasn't funny to me at first, but now I'm realizing he was probably trolling so I can get behind that scene lol

that man definitely knew percy's real name and has always been actively choosing not to use it

they changed Annabeth's hair again, I'm in love. so ready for her to have a different hairstyle every season

that dream sequence felt a little unnecessary and it confused me a bit, but I'm alright with it

sally writing down everything kronos is saying in his dreams, love that

how they killed off gabe is exactly how I was expecting them to after watching the first couple episodes. and him wanting to pick the lock after Sally changed them makes him even worse. Having him try to do that along with looking through a package not addressed to him, PLUS him not even living there anymore. All that shittiness put right before him turning to stone definitely made it feel deserved

I came away from this episode not entirely satisfied, but content. This episode felt the most book-accurate to me, both events-wise and tonally. And I think that's because the chapters it's based off are the most serious in the book, so with the new tone the show's taking, it fits right in

I'm gonna make another post about my thoughts on the season overall, but I think I'm gonna rewatch the whole thing first

#pjo #pjo spoilers #pjo disney+#pjo disney+ spoilers #percy jackson #percy jackson spoilers

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astroyongie · 1 year

Text

IVE May Reading 2023

Note: please take it with a grain of salt and enjoy !

Yujin

Love: it seems like she is once again in a relationship (started around February/March) and that she is quite happy about her situation. I don’t have much to say other to confirm that and also to say that she is walking on a cloud at the moment

Career: she seems to be very hopeful and extremely content with her career situation at the moment, not only is she getting tons of income but she is also securing opportunities for later and also have somo solo stuff. She knows her worth as an artist, however Yujin should just be careful with her jealousy

Health:

Physical: She needs to make sure she is having protected sexual activities

Mental: I feel that she gets easily emotional and agitated with things, so she needs to slow down a little. Yujin also does a lot of meditation to relax and focus

Gaeul

Love: Gaeul isn’t in a relationship but she has been seeing someone lately, and although her fling isn’t official she suffers a lot from it due to the dependency she created around this one person. She does anything they want and honestly this doesn’t seem very healthy

Career: She had a huge argument with one of the members and she came out of it not happy at all. Other than, her career is equally secure, a lot of money is coming to her as well and she is just so happy with everything. Gaeul is also working on solo projects and she has faith to built her own reputation

Health:

Physical: she is sick from something but I don’t know what. Other than that she needs to look out for lower backs and pelvic area

Mental: She is the type to suffer in silence

Rei

Love: Her situation is very complicated and I don’t know how to explain it without revealing much, but basically she is in a relationship at the moment, but it’s the kind to be such a bad influence and overall toxic to the point where she makes decisions about her health that aren’t good at all. Rei needs to be very very careful if she doesn’t want to have a scandal attached to her name

Career: For her career I see positivity and a lot of good opportunities coming for her through her managers and sponsors that can be only good for her artistic growth

Health:

Physical: She eats barely, she also is dealing with digestive issues

Mental: She has a lot of dark thoughts around her and she is definitely suffering emotionally

Wonyoung

Love: So it seems like Wonyoung has gave in on her crushes and she is currently dating someone, however ! This relationship is very discreet, quite a secret, because her company isn’t into letting her have a relationship (nor his her sponsor). But in any case she is trying It out and being giggly about it

Career: obviously there’s only good things behind Wonyoung, even more with the same sponsor energy behind her that gives her the most opportunities. Her career is balanced, she has been writing lycris and overall her solo projects are seeing true form. Her fame only keeps growing

Health:

Physical: she eats barely as well

Mental: She is constantly in state of fear, guilt and doubts

Liz

Love: It seems like Liz had her eyes on someone she got close with however this person rejected her after leading her on. So at the moment she is kinda annoyed. Also she was the one who had a fight with Gaeul and this was probably related to their relationships

Career: Things are nor good nor bad, because I see comparatively with the other members, that she didn’t received that much money since her financial growth is currently blocked. I also feel like she had worked a lot for some type of opportunity that was removed last minute. Liz however isn’t sad, she knows her luck will change eventually

Health:

Physical: She also doesn’t eat much

Mental: what people say online affects her a lot

Leeseo

Love: She is still dating however it looks like she haven’t been able to be with her partner that much, and lately their relationship is basically based on texting and calling each other rather than seeing each other. Also her family isn’t okay with it since they want her to focus on her career

Career: things are going well, she has the luck to have almost every member behind her and helping her with her projects but Leeseo still has to work a little and wait before her projects can come to light

Health:

Physical: she is dealing with quite some throat issue

Mental: She isn’t very well, and I also feel a lot of anger in general

#IVE #IVE astrology #IVE tarot #IVE reading #IVE imagines #IVE scenarios #IVE reactions #IVE headcanons

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shallowseeker · 7 months

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Character parallels and modes of emotional operation

SAM + PROJECTION

You know, someone somewhere in the tags said that Sam projected onto Jack very, very hard, wanting desperately to see himself in him, even when Jack sometimes displayed a very different emotional life.

This is a fun Sam trait. Because Sam saw himself in "the monster," the monster was worth saving. (I don't necessarily judge that as an abnormal, spookily terrible thing. That's literally how empathy works.)

But interestingly, it's also why he's praying to Cas in the beginning of season 7.

SAM: He's not! He's in there somewhere, Dean. I know it. DEAN: No, you don't. SAM: No, I don't. But, look, I was pretty far gone sometimes myself, and never gave up on me.

Sam easily forgives Cas, just like he easily forgives John. Because deep down, he views them as fundamentally similar. He sees himself in them, and so they get big passes on moral things, whereas Dean and Mary, the ones who are supposed to support him in a certain way, do not.

To be fair, with Cas, Sam and Cas actually have a lot of parallel journeys, even translating to back-and-forth cinematography throughout the series. (Hunter Heroici & Our Little World come to mind.)

That's why it was so good for Cas to go with Sam in Peace of Mind to give him mentorship, and for Dean to go with Jack to try to tackle his emotional headspace.

THE "SAVE THE CAT" FAMILY LOVE STORY & PARALLEL JOURNEYS

THESE ARE CARVED IN THE LIBRARY ON THE "WORK TABLE" = It gives us a glimpse into each character's primary mode of emotional operation in their daily lives. It's also a little reminiscent of the coworkers' bar, but the library is specifically more of Sam's domain. The family business coworkers' space or the "legacy space," perhaps.

The final table reveals the parallel journeys of the characters: Sam and Cas on one side; Dean, Mary, and Jack more parallel-ish the other. Some lines are literally more parallel.

They're all a big giant love story, but it's in the movie-industry-Save the Cat / Blake Synder kinda way, a tapestry ranging from familial to sibling to parent to child to lover to friends to comrades to even groups of strangers.

(Even buddy stories are love stories in disguise, so the saying goes in the movie workshops. It's often about sacrifices and meeting in the middle, despite your differences and mistakes.)

///

WHERE WOULD OTHER CHARACTERS FALL?

Maybe in completely different directions, like more vertically oriented. Also, I think characters move around the table, depending on their psychological wounds of the moment. Nonetheless, they probably have particular quadrants of operation they stick to within the narrative.

(Movements: For example, I think Mary and Eileen are on the right with other heart characters, but they can also tend to go "lone wolf," more analogous to Castiel and later-John, who live more fully on the left.)

I suspect Henry Winchester would be on the left, too, over with Cas and Sam. He's a "thinking character" and seems stupidly courageous to the point of sacrifice. His idealism has the potential to get him into morally corrupt scenarios, as well.

Millie Winchester on the right, with the other heart characters.

The Campbells are harder. Probably because they tend to move with the modes of their circumstances more readily.

I'd put Gwen Campbell for sure on the right with Dean, a sensitive heart who "performs toughness" to disguise it.

Samuel Campbell could be on the left, right next to Mary's rightward name; a parallel to Cas-and-Jack. Samuel is still tragically trying so desperately to save her, even decades after her death.

Of course, Winchesters can move, too:

John could also be right next to Millie, who seemed to try to love him through his crises. (Or John could be next to Mary, of course, especially in the context of The Winchesters, where they actively work together as co-protectors/coworkers within the narrative.)

Another movement character: John could actually be on the right for a little while, with the hearts, running parallel with Millie, as he grows up without Henry.

///

For The Winchesters companion series, even though we didn't get very far into it, I mentally visualize Deanna Campbell as being someone who might sell her soul for Maggie, which is why she's cagey and missing for all of season 1.

Ergo Deanna on the right with the hearts but opposite Maggie Campbell, who lives on the left, very close to an intersection with Mary's journey.

Latika is an idealist, so I'd put her on the left, too, with other idealists.

And Carlos, on the right, with other "heart" characters.

#stuff #tag later #parallels #love stories in the save the cat model #one more for the jack mary-dean kline winchester bucket!!!#jack mary-dean kline winchester

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crowley-the-1-true-king-of-hell · 1 year

Text

So my absolute favourite Crowley episodes are in order from earliest to latest are ...

Wait before I get there the problem is all of them except the episodes were Crowley gets bullied or worse are my favourites. That's a lot of episodes because the bullying of Crowley, rather than just general rivalry and enemy stuff didn't happen until season 10. So I decided to change it to only the favourites where I can actually explain why beyond "I just love it just because uh yeah it's amazing"

Abandon All Hope

Okay so this is the episode where we see a demon trolling a homophobe and as one of those woke millenials it felt like Crowley was the kind of person that would have a blog on Tumblr and give entertaining rants about the unfair state of LGBTQphobias and racism in the world

The Devil You Know

Okay so this is central to understanding pre human blood Crowley's character. You cannot write accurate and informed metas of prehuman Crowley without having knowledge of this episode in your subconscious influencing you

It is basically a character study. It tells you that he is brilliant as he persuaded someone who didn't fear Crowley or the Winchesters torture or death into telling them where Pestilence is. He got Bobby who is clearly intelligent into giving up his soul

He is dramatic and funny. "They ate my tailor!"

He is quick to anger and doesn't have much patience. "Shut up the both of you!"

He is willing for his allies to get hurt to achieve his their goals. "That's what you get working with a demon."

He is flirty. "Lovers in league against Satan."

He shows more emotional range than most demons we've seen. "So come with me. Please." However his ability to feel the full range of emotions from anger to fear even before the human blood is unfortunately a big weakness of his, because he doesn't think of all the ways things can go wrong when he is feeling strong emotions as he acts impulsively, and therefore doesn't think of contigency plans for them. When he's calm he's brilliant

See most people think Crowley is smug and arrogant and he can be those things. But often he isn't and it's just a cover up for his worry

He is badass. He fought and won against an entire hive of demons single handedly before he became the ruler of fallen humanity

It is also his character centric episode

He also shrugs off being shot with a salt bullet

Two Minutes to Midnight

Telling the boys that Bobby used tongue is a well known, hilarious and iconic moment. To be fair to Bobby he might have thought he needed to use tongue for the deal to work

This is the episode where Cas' first line to him wasn't something something abomination but a surprised "how did you get that?" the first active impression that Cas has of Crowley is curiosity on his ability to gain things that should be difficult to get. That meant Cas never underestimated Crowley even in later seasons when the boys stopped being scared of him because Cas' first impression is that Crowley is very able to achieve what should be very difficult or near impossible

Weekend at Bobby's

Crowstiel is my favourite ship but the chemistry rivalry between Crowley and Bobby Singer is undeniable. It was also kind of hot. "You come to daddy." Them both mocking each other's accents was hilarious

The Man Who Would Be King

His support for Cas and the fact that he made Hell unique from the other Hells we've seen. This is also the episode where we see just how much respect that Crowley has for Cas. He genuinely believes that Cas is able to lead an army and win the war. He respects Cas in every way and even when Cas was in his honey era stage he believed in Cas to help beat Dick. How do we know he wasn't just saying that? 1. Why would Crowley team up with someone incapable? 2. We see evidence both before and after that episode of Cas' intelligence and badassery 3. Iirc and maybe I'm wrong Crowley has never called Cas a moron. Something he has no qualms using on even people he thinks of as friends post human blood like Dean for example

Season Seven, Time for a Wedding!

This is Crowley at his most fearsome and respected. Dean fears him "oh, crap". His demons fear him "oh, crap" and his unexpected speech about wall street and integrity from a demon was ironically funny

There Will Be Blood

This is the episode where Crowley is one of the most crucial characters of the season. They need HIS blood [ along with Cas and the alpha vamps ] to save the world

Crowley and Cas deserve to be important

Survival of the Fittest

He wins that episode. He gets Kevin. Cas and Dean get trapped in Purgatory and if Dean was a random side character rather than necessary to the plot there wouldn't have been a way out for him

He also doesn't get bitchy when Cas said not in so many words "no thank you" to helping with Dick Roman

The Great Escapist

Crowley sees Cas and his eyes light up. That is good acting to make even your irisises gleam. The look was very affectionate. It wasn't a smug yes I have Cas now! Angel tablet let's go! It was a soft adoring look

It was also nice for Crowley to have a win. It also shows just how good his logical thinking is and how he can draw the right conclusions from the information available to him. Plus his devil bullet idea was a creative solution to not having to get within an angel's smiting range

Clip Show

He called the Winchesters out for their collateral damage and they needed to be called out tbh. That was so satisfying. This episode is also a reminder to us that he isn't just funny dramatic Crowley as he is also "the ruler of fallen humanity" and Crowley shows that dark side of himself

Devil May Care

He had been tortured with a sledgehammer and he behaved like his nails had been painted. Badass. What a king 💅

Road Trip

There is evidence suggesting Crowley wasn't trying his best to hack Gadreel in order to force Dean into a deal where he gets to possess Sam and therefore go free

The evidence is that he doesn't do as much twisting with Gadreel as he does with Alfie. The evidence is that the pins Crowley is using to hack Gadreel vs Alphie are on opposite temples

Absolutely magnificent bastard

King of the Damned

Watching Crowley be soft hearted for Gavin was so rewarding from Weekend at Bobby's

The Foundry

The episode you point people to when they ask why do you ship Crowstiel as a friendship or a romanceship?

They play off each other well humour wise. And rather than rolling his eyes or looking disappointed in Cas for the Beyonce name like Dean would Crowley decides to join in on the joke

Crowley finds Cas fun whereas Dean can find Cas annoying

LOTUS

"I agree with agent Zappa." This is where Cas engages with Crowley like they really are partners and was the beginning potential of a friendship

I also believe Cas would prefer being Crowley's FBI partner and I know what you're thinking "but Cas loves Dean" and look I love my partner and I would choose him over my online gaming friends but some of my online gaming friends are more enjoyable to game with than my partner is. It doesn't mean I love them more but in this particular circumstance i.e gaming I would rather game with them than my partner f

For example my partner doesn't really do activities with me in the game he just goes off and does his own thing

Dean rolls his eyes and insults Cas where as Crowley joins in like it's perfectly normal to refer to yourself as Agent Beyonce. He never goes out of his way to make Cas feel embarassed and I just feel like if it wasn't for Dean Cas would really enjoy being FBI partners with Crowley after Lucifer gets defeated as well

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i-make-fun-of-spn-characters · 1 year

Note

I feel like Jack as a character is largely interesting/good, but the way people react to him makes me deeply uncomfortable. Like i guess you could forgive a teenager you never actually agreed to be in charge of for accidentally killing your mom, but i don’t think that should be a societal expectation. Like that’s Dean’s MOM, i don’t think Jack deserves to die obviously but why should Dean HAVE to forgive him? And the common defense that Jack is a literal baby (so he can’t be held responsible for his actions) is so weird bc… no he isn’t??? He literally isn’t a baby. And I’m okay with Dean forgiving him too, but it’s so weird that people act like it’s unreasonable to have any negative emotions about the person who killed your mom. And that’s not even getting into how many people blame Mary for her death when she did absolutely nothing wrong.

Yeah I agree with everything you said.

It is not fair to expect anyone to immediately forgive someone for killing their mom (or really expect that at all...). I would also add to this that the person Dean COULD not and WOULD not forgive...

was NOT Jack!!!!!!!

It was Soulless Jack, who cast the blame for what happened onto Mary and said it was "regrettable". So more disturbing for me than this tendency to treat Jack as a baby who isn't responsible for his actions... is this inability to see the distinction between the REAL Jack and Soulless Jack, when their differences are READILY apparent!! Jack—the real Jack—would NEVER have spoken to Sam and Dean about Mary's death the way Soulless Jack did. He would NEVER have hurt people because Dumah told him to—he would have thrown her into a wall in a fit of righteous rage and said "You're hurting people!" THAT is the REAL Jack!!! We see that we have the real Jack back when he comes back, and one of the first things he does is break down in tears and apologize genuinely for Mary. So when Dean can't forgive and he's full of rage in the aftermath of Mary's death... the person all that anger is directed at ISN'T Jack. It's a thing wearing Jack's face—devoid of the real Jack's strong moral compass and love for others which continuously counterbalanced his naivety and allowed him to parse when he was being manipulated and used by evil forces, tempered his anger, and made him who he was.

I do think part of what makes fans so angry with Dean is the lead up to this and how Dean and Jack interact in general since season 13... and some of that frustration is fair, but some of it also really... is not.

I've said before (in tags) on @dontfeedthestansaftermidnight that a lot of fandom interacts with Dean as a representation of love and belonging within the narrative instead of just as a human being. So it doesn't matter how [insert character] behaved toward him/what they did or how Dean's hurting or what's going on with him. He needs to be actively loving everyone all of the time—unconditionally—or he isn't doing his job. Only Dean's feelings need to be placed under a microscope and analyzed and judged because only his feelings (and how he displays them or doesn't) carry the weight of judgement and what it means to be loved and accepted.

Dean is kind of like... well—he's the doors and walls and windows of the Winchester family house, and he's the hearth, and almost everyone wants a piece of that warmth and that sense of belonging. This is especially apparent in the Carver era, but it ultimately prevails from the very beginning to the bitter end of the series—that Dean's love is kind of... different. It's tangible and transcendent, and it's wrought with some serious trauma that gives it sharp edges, but it's something truly special and even... coveted? What Cas said about Dean in that speech in 15x18 wasn't wrong at all—it was a testament to the power of Dean's love within the narrative.

So yeah—I think the reason we tend to see Dean judged for how he interacts with Jack isn't just because Dean is being a jerk sometimes, but also because of the power of his love specifically within the narrative, and what him specifically "rejecting" someone means to fans.

We all see Jack as a sweet kid, who deserves to be accepted, and Dean—the representation of love and belonging—really struggles to love him? Or at least in the way Jack (and Sam and Cas and most fans) would like—and that's... tough for people to accept. It makes them angry.

I think that Dean loves Jack and I think Dean believes that Jack is a good kid and I think that Dean believes that Jack deserves to be loved... but I also think there is something that makes it really difficult for Dean to give Jack the love everyone (including Dean!) would like Dean to to give Jack.

I personally think maybe Dean feels out of place in terms of how he's expected to love Jack (as a son) versus how he would prefer their relationship to look. Like—Dean taking Jack fishing when Jack is dying... to me it feels more like Dean giving Jack the thing he knows Jack really desires—the relationship he knows Jack really wants to have with Dean. I can't shake the feeling that for Dean, Jack brings up a lot of really traumatic things, and Dean knows that isn't Jack's fault (but that's hard to remember), but it also changes how Dean wants their relationship to be and the boundaries he wants to set. I think it's very significant that just one episode before Jack was born, Dean stood in Mary's dreams and told her that he had to be a mother and a father to his little brother and that that wasn't fair, and in the next episode, he loses Mary and Cas, and is saddled with someone else's child. Sam begins urging him to put aside his grief and accept a parenting role over Jack immediately. Dean's very first response to that is that he doesn't want to be Jack's mother. And I have to wonder... is that so unfair?

I think Dean has an obligation to treat Jack with decency and respect (and sometimes he fails to do this), but despite his place in the narrative and his transcendent love... Dean is actually just a guy—not the actual god of love... so while Dean's love and how it's viewed is really beautiful... it also isn't fair to Dean that these expectations of his feelings (which he can't fully control—only his actions can be controlled) are placed on him? And look—Jack isn't his son. He isn't obligated to be Jack's mother or his father and he isn't obligated to love him as a son. Dean wasn't the one who swore to love and protect Jack—that was Cas. Cas adopted him, and then immediately died, and... I don't even ship destiel, but not because I don't think there's something to it—there's some obvious implications here with what happened with Cas lying (again) to Dean and tricking (read: cheating) him right before all of this happened too—rejecting Dean's gift (the mixtape) and his request for them to work as a team in the process.

So Jack is like... well—he was literally designed by the writers to be a person that Dean would struggle to love. He represents pretty much every defining trauma of Dean's life. He represents Dean's parentification, the loss of his mother (twice), the abandonment of his father, the trauma of losing Cas over and over, Cas's secrets and betrayals, Sam and how he was unfairly and cruelly tainted from birth—slated for an evil purpose—and how Dean had to be the one to deal with that most closely (besides Sam himself). Jack also represents Dean—he is the child forced to grow up too fast, and that is also Dean (and this last one absolutely sets the groundwork for a lot of their interactions and similarities in terms of self-sacrifice and being weaponized).

Mary being blamed for her death is also gross and I don't feel any need to comment any further on that and all the problems in fandom that this relates to.

#being serious for 5 seconds #mail

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