#;we are not special. we are not crap or trash either. we just are. we just are and what happens just happens. (interactions)

[sparkle-fiend]

Steve loves Valentine’s Day.

It’s a holiday celebrating love and romance; the whole point is to shower someone with affection (and hopefully get laid at the end of the night). What’s not to like about that?

With girls, Valentine’s was easy. Big box of chocolates, a dozen red roses, dinner at a fancy restaurant (and maybe a little jewelry or something - depending on how much he likes her). A sweet card, for sure.

Now that he’s dating Eddie, Valentine’s Day presents more of a… challenge. 

“Ugh, what am I gonna do Rob? We walked through the greeting card aisle at Melvald’s and he pretended to puke. He doesn’t want flowers or chocolate or anything.”

He knows he’s whining. He’s slumped dramatically in the single office chair in the Family Video breakroom, spinning slowly (like a pathetic little rotisserie chicken, according to Robin). He’s probably got about five more minutes before Robin snaps.

“Why do you have to do anything? You know Valentine’s Day isn’t even a real holiday – it’s just an excuse to get people to spend money on crap they don’t need…”

“Oh my god, stop! You sound just like Eddie. Valentine's isn't about spending money, it's about... showing people that you love them. Making them feel happy and appreciated and special. It’s about celebrating love.”

Robin tilts her head and her face goes a little soft, the way it does when he says something she wasn't expecting (but in a good way, not like when he says something so dumb that her body collapses and she says he's obliterated her will to live). 

"That’s actually surprisingly sweet Steve. Okay….” she sighs and looks up at the ceiling as she thinks. “Maybe... you could try making something? He liked those cookies you baked for movie night." 

“Those cookies were terrible.” Practically inedible. Eddie was the only person that ate more than one. (Which was either a true declaration of love in and of itself, or proof that Eddie will eat literally anything when he's stoned.) 

"I don't know, Eddie is pretty easy to please. You could give him like... a cool rock, and he would probably love it." 

Steve sits upright so fast he nearly overturns the chair. "Robin, you're a genius!!" 

She blinks at him. "Clearly. But also, why exactly?" 

Eddie is like a crow. He's forever picking up little odds and ends - cool rocks, stickers, shiny bits of paper. At Christmas, he collected the bows off of everyone's presents. Sometimes, he incorporates the stuff he finds into little props and models for his D&D games, but other times he just keeps it. He's got a whole drawer devoted to his little 'hoard', as he calls it. 

Steve explains all this to Robin, who just shakes her head in bemusement. "He is so weird," she says fondly. 

"Yeah," Steve agrees. He would have recoiled from that oddity in high school - would have been worried what other people would think. Scared they would judge him for associating with someone like that. 

He doesn’t give a shit, these days. He sees the way Eddie lights up with happiness at the smallest things, so full of excitement and passion, and it just makes him smile. He feels grateful that he gets to bask in that reflected joy, like a flower soaking up the sun.

Valentines is two weeks away, which gives Steve plenty of time to collect a bounty of little treasures. He hits the pawn shop, the thrift store - he even drives out to the weird antique shop about an hour out of town, which looks like a normal house on the outside and is crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks and bric-a-brac when you walk inside. 

He also trawls the quarry, the lake, and the woods behind his house. It's tough, because usually Eddie's little treasures just look like trash to Steve. He's not a very creative person himself, but he tries hard to see the world the way his boyfriend would. 

If that means Steve finds himself debating for over half an hour on which rock is more appealing, well – it will all be worth it in the end.

———

Steve stays over at Eddie's, the night before Valentines. (At this point, he spends more time at the Munson's house than he does at his own.) 

He wakes up early, slipping out of bed with slow, careful movements. As usual, Eddie rolls over with a faint grumble, bundling himself into a burrito of blankets to compensate for the void of warmth left by Steve's absence. 

He moves down the hall, avoiding each creaky board like it's a booby trap in the Temple of Doom, until he reaches the kitchen - which is where Steve breaks routine. He sneaks out the back door and races across the driveway in his boxers, hopping and cursing as the frigid gravel stings his bare feet. 

His carefully cultivated stash of gifts is in the glove compartment of the BMW. He already has a plan for which one will be first, so he grabs it and closes the door (slowly, slowly - the sound of Steve moving around the house is familiar, but a car door slamming in the driveway at this time of morning would wake Eddie for sure). 

The first gift is a blue jay feather he found in the woods, perfect and clean with vivid blue and black stripes. He tucks it carefully under the edge of the ash tray that sits on the porch railing, before slipping back inside to start breakfast.

Thirty minutes later Eddie appears, drawn by the warm smell of coffee and the sound of bacon popping in the pan. 

He drapes himself over Steve's back and murmurs, "G'mornin," sleepily into the shell of his ear, the way he does every morning after Steve spends the night. This time, Steve balances his spatula on the edge of the pan and turns so that he can wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. 

He presses a cheerful kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth and says, "Happy Valentine’s Day." 

Eddie groans dramatically and throws his head back, the rest of his bodyweight following. If Steve didn't have a firm grip around his waist, he would have toppled over backward; the move turns into an awkward backbend instead. 

"Stevie please, it's too early for that crap. Wait until I've had my coffee at least." 

Steve grins. He releases his hold just long enough for Eddie to yelp and scrabble for balance before catching him and pulling him close again. 

"Jesus Christ," Eddie gasps. 

"Careful," Steve says with a smug grin, laughing when Eddie shoves him in the chest and pulls away.

They eat breakfast together, and then Steve follows Eddie outside for his morning cigarette. 

"Holy shit, look at this!" Eddie turns to Steve with the blue jay feather pinched between his fingers, grinning with delight. He hasn't brushed his hair yet and he's got a smear of bacon grease on his cheek, but he's so beautiful in that moment - so full of joy it shines out of him, like a lighthouse.

Just because he found a feather. Steve smiles back, helplessly besotted. "Pretty cool." 

Eddie twirls the feather between his fingers before tucking it behind his ear. “That’s a sign that today is gonna be a good day.”

Steve presses his mouth to the edge of his coffee cup to hide his expression. “Yeah, I think so too.”

———

Eddie rolls into the Family Video parking lot around 2 in the afternoon to visit before his band practice. He strolls inside and leans against the counter, plonking a silver wrapped Hershey kiss down in front of Steve. 

“Kiss for a kiss?” he says, with a smarmy grin. Steve rolls his eyes, but he checks to make sure they’re alone in the store before swooping forward for a quick peck on the lips.

“I got you something too,” he says.

“Oh?” Eddie raises one eyebrow, managing to look both curious and skeptical. “Please tell me it’s not a cheesy greeting card.”

Steve flips him the bird before reaching into his pocket. He pulls the keychain out and lets it dangle from one finger in front of Eddie’s face.

His boyfriend’s immediate reaction is to wrinkle his nose in disgust. The keychain is a garish red plastic heart, definitely the antithesis of Eddie’s usual metalhead vibe.

But it’s also sparkly. 

Steve’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk as Eddie takes the keychain from him, reluctantly admiring the way light sparks off the flakes of holographic glitter embedded in the plastic. The cheap little thing shimmers like a ruby in the afternoon sun.

“Some kid dropped it. They never came back, so it’s yours if you want it.” (That’s technically true, although Steve has been holding on to it for nearly a month now, waiting for today.)

“Oh, well then.” Eddie stuffs the keychain into his pocket. “Finders keepers, losers weepers!” He sticks his tongue out, eyes wide and exaggerated – then leans across the counter and licks Steve’s nose.

“Gross!” Steve sputters with laughter. He scrubs at his face and looks up just in time to see Eddie wave jauntily on his way out the door, a second Hershey kiss left sitting on the counter in his wake.

———

After Steve's shift is over, he runs home for a quick shower and a change of clothes before meeting Eddie at the diner. 

He did his best to talk his boyfriend into going on a proper date, but the most he could get Eddie to agree to was milkshakes and a movie (my choice Stevie, not some lame romance).

Steve walks into the diner and spots Eddie at the back booth. He saunters over and sets the third present onto the sticky Formica table with a click. It's a small golden gear, nearly paper-thin. 

"Check it out. Found this in the parking lot." 

(That's a lie. Steve carefully picked apart a broken old watch from the thrift shop in order to extract a handful of the little gears.)

"Hey, cool! I bet I could use this in the model I'm working on." Eddie pulls the pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and drops the gear inside for safe keeping. 

"What's the model for?" Steve asks.

Eddie launches into an animated explanation of the character he's creating for a new Hellfire campaign - a sun-worshiping priest that intends to trick the party into becoming a ritual sacrifice. 

"... and that gear thing would look pretty good on the top of his staff." 

Steve doesn't understand much of what Eddie's saying, but he loves the way his boyfriend talks with his whole body, moving his hands and shoulders and head along with the words. He rests his chin in his hand and lets Eddie ramble until the milkshakes arrive, smiling like a dope the whole time.

Eddie has no concept of time, so Steve is in charge of making sure they finish their milkshakes and leave the diner in time to make it to the movie. As Eddie slides into the passenger seat of the BMW, he says, “Hey – you think we have enough time to stop by the Circle K?”

Steve turns in his seat as he reverses out of the parking lot. "What do you need at the Circle K?" 

"Snacks! You can't go to a movie without provisions Stevie! And don't say we can buy some at the concessions stand, because the prices they charge are ridiculous."

“Well if we stop now, we’ll be late – but I’ve got some Milk Duds and trail mix…” Steve doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Eddie pops open the glove compartment in his search for snacks, revealing Steve’s little stash of gifts. 

Eddie frowns in confusion. “What the hell?” He rifles through the pile as Steve groans.

“Shit. You weren’t supposed to see those yet.”

“What is all this?” Eddie picks up a ring, turning it over in his hands. It's a bulky silver biker ring, like the ones Eddie wears every day - only this one is shaped like a bat with tiny ruby eyes. Steve is particularly proud of that one, discovered in a box of assorted rings at the pawn shop.

Steve gnaws at his lip and runs a hand through his hair, ruining all his careful styling. "I know you hate Valentines, but I wanted to do something. Just… to show you how much I love you. So instead of the cards and flowers and stuff, I tried to find little things you might actually like. For your, you know… your 'dragon hoard' or whatever you call it."

"So the keychain and the gear..."

"And the feather."

Eddie's eyebrow twitches. He stares at the contents of the glove compartment; at the water smoothed stone from the lake and the multicolored twist of ribbon, the vivid green marble and the tiny mother of pearl locket. He looks down at the ring still clutched in his hand, and blinks rapidly. 

Steve glances nervously between Eddie and the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. He's disappointed that the surprise has been ruined, but more concerned about Eddie's reaction. He'd expected the other boy to laugh or tease him, not this... whatever this is. 

Finally, Eddie clears his throat roughly and speaks. "Actually, can we just head back to my place? I've got something I wanna show you, and I don't think I can wait through the movie." 

“Uh… sure.”

Steve's brain is buzzing as he takes a left instead of a right at the intersection. He's worked himself into a bit of a panic by the time they pull into the Munson's driveway. "Eddie, I..." 

Eddie interrupts him, practically throwing himself across the center console as he drags Steve into a fierce kiss. By the time Eddie lets him go, Steve is panting. "Wha...?" 

"Wait here," Eddie says with a wild grin. He presses Steve back into the seat for emphasis. "Don't move." 

He takes the steps up the porch two at a time and fumbles with his key to get inside as Steve watches in a daze. He has no idea what's going on. 

After a few minutes, Eddie returns to the door. He's pulled on a t-shirt with a faux tuxedo printed on the front, and he's standing straight backed in the doorway with a towel over his arm, like some kind of maître d’. He waves grandly toward Steve, beckoning him toward the house. 

Steve snorts with laughter as he climbs out of the BMW. “What are you doing?” 

"This way sir," Eddie replies in a terrible attempt at a posh English accent. Steve shakes his head, thoroughly bewildered and increasingly amused. 

He walks past Eddie through the doorway and freezes in surprise.

The living room has been transformed. Eddie set up the gaming table in the middle of the room – set with a crisp white tablecloth, the Munson’s best dishes, and a vase full of red roses sitting in the center of the table, flanked by two candles. More candles twinkle softly from the coffee table, the end tables - even on top of the tv. 

"Eddie..." Steve whispers in awe. "What is this?" 

"Well, ah... I kind of jumped the gun a little. It’s supposed to be a candlelight dinner. If we'd gone to the movie, Wayne would have had time to get all the food set up. But it won’t take long, I already cooked everything. Just gotta heat it up."

Steve’s vision goes watery, smearing the candlelight into one big blur as tears fill his eyes. He blinks hard to clear them. “I thought you hated all this stuff.”

Eddie shrugs and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Well, yeah I do. But you love it. So I wanted to surprise you.”

Steve grips his boyfriend by the front of his ridiculous t-shirt and pulls him into a bone-cracking hug, before pulling back just far enough to kiss the breath from him. 

In a pause between kisses, Steve rests his forehead against Eddie’s and laughs a little breathlessly. “What made you change your mind about the movie?”

Eddie bites his lips, already swollen from kisses. Steve can’t tear his eyes away.

“I don’t know. When I saw all that stuff you collected for me…” he clears his throat, staring at Steve with wide dark eyes. “I’m… I know I’m weird. I’ve known that my whole life. I never thought I would find anyone that would tolerate me, let alone… celebrate me like that.”

He kisses Steve again, sweet and soft. “I couldn’t sit and wait for two hours after that. I had to get you home and show you how much I love you.”

“I love you too.” Steve smiles against Eddie’s mouth. “You know… I’m not really hungry yet.”

“Oh yeah?”

Steve trails his hands down Eddie’s chest, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and tugging. “Mm-hmm. I think we need to work up an appetite first.”

Eddie laughs in delight. “Sounds like a good idea. You know how much I like dessert before dinner.”

A happy Valentine’s Day indeed.

[episodeoftv]

Prelims, Vote 1 of 8

The top 4 finales will move on to be included in the main bracket

Propaganda is under the cut, may include spoilers

Agent Carter - 2.10 Hollywood Ending

Just as Peggysous became canon, just as Jack is about to start his redemption arc, they cancelled the show and left all of us on a massive cliffhanger for, let's see, almost 8 years at this point. We need ANSWERS.

Daybreak - 1.10 FWASH-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

It was written as a cliffhanger for a second season that would never come, but it just felt flat. The one objective that our leading lad (Josh) had been chasing (saving Sam) was rendered pointless, because the moment the big bad was defeated she effectively declared herself the new big bad and everyone who wasn't a major character went 'hmmm, okay!' And accepted it! They didn't even address this all that well, just ended with a shot of the MCs looking shocked.

Doctor Who - 12.10 The Timeless Children

this finale is shit!! absolute ass! nothing happens in it for it to justify having such a cool name. the master captures the doctor, shows her a slideshow that amounts to ‘‘you’re adopted!! :)" doctor breaks out of her matrix prison thing by overloading it with memories when the matrix is The Supercomputer and it’s used to hold all memories of all time lords ever? you know, the species whove been doing their thing for a billion years and live up to 10,000 years? the doctors new memories should either already be there or make nary a dent in it. the doctor’s like ‘‘why would they do that! why would they lie?’’ girl they have been lying to you since forever. they killed you once. theyve tried to kill you so many times. they turned you into a fucked up anti time monster that one time. one of the doctors past past selves even told her it doesnt really matter!! what was even the point

Loki - 1.06 For All Time. Always.

The series was going downhill past Episode 3 tbh, but it really just was a load of crap only interested in setting up the multiverse

Tales of Arcadia - Trollhunters: Rise of the Titans

This finale undoes everything the show worked for. In order to give itself stakes it kills off a few characters, but in a way that only indirectly impacts the MCs (such as Jim's Mom's fiancé getting killed). Then, at the end of the special, the main character uses time travel to go back to the start of S1E01 and changed history so he never becomes the trollhunter. Instead he makes his next friend the trollhunter instead. In terms of anticipation it was not at all what anyone was anticipating. (I had assumed he'd go to the start of the special and defeat the titans without any casualties). Having undone time only he remembers the previous timestream and he makes no effort to engage with it outside of accepting his changeling principal far sooner.

Ted Lasso - 3.12 So Long, Farewell

This trash ass finale undid three seasons of character development for every single person involved (except Nate!). A long-distance parent returned "home" despite having no attachments besides his child and leaving behind his entire found family, an abused and neglected woman was left behind by the person who taught her she didn't deserve abuse and neglect, and two characters who spent the whole show learning to cooperate and care for each other got into a fistfight over the girl they both dated.

Torchwood - 3.05 Day Five

No propaganda submitted

[auntieblues]

“We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens.” ― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

[twicedailyquotes]

We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens.

Chuck Palahniuk

Fight Club

[fairydust-stuff]

Thoughts on Adam x Cherry

So I watched Skate 8 Infinity recently and these two have given me a lot of food for thought. And I have seen zero meta on them so here we go a deep dive on   Cherry X Adam as a whole. 

Honestly having watched all 12 episodes of the show. I think if we’re talking healthy, recovery, realization  Adam the best options for him would be either Cherry or  Tadashi. 

While Tadashi has his own issues and Adam x Tadashi is a very mixed bag for me. This isn’t about them so i’ll save my thoughts on them for another post because oh boy do I got thoughts. 

So anyway Cherry had a huge crush on Adam you’d have to be blind not to see it. The way he silently looks at him tells so much. I also don’t think the feelings were one sided like a lot of others seem to think. 

Adam catches Cherry in his arms at one point and that has been the  romantic short hand visual in hetero media forever. Its basically the writers winking at the audience that they should start thinking of  these two as a couple. That they have feelings for each other.  

While its unclear if they actually did date since this a thinly veiled subtext show. Either Adam and Cherry had a full on closeted secret relationship or they just pinned for each other relentlessly.  

Also Adam has issues but he did in fact cherish Joe and Cherry. 

There’s a clear scene where Adam takes off his hood and when Cherry remarks on the dangers of this. Adam replies  that its ok if Joe and Cherry see his face, implying their special. 

There’s also some bitterness from Adam and one or two remarks in present day implying Adam felt abandoned by Joe and Cherry. 

Adam also refused their beefs with him and while some may take his your boring comment as face value, I dont but we’ll come back to that.  

The fallout from what i understand is Adams obsessive need to find his Eve. Adam got more intense and willing to hurt others and Cherry and Joe got cut out of his life for trying to make him see reason. 

I think it was Joe at one point states  Adam cut them out first. 

Adam didn’t want to hear it and if Adam and Cherry were a couple. Adam’s need to find his Eve must of really stung. Its kind of ironic to me that certain fans see Kaoru as not a perfect skate board partner for Adam and that means their not meant to be in a relationship. 

Adams whole issue is he is looking for someone who can be his everything but a rival in competition has an opposite set of requirements then what one looks for in a romantic relationship. Adams abusive family has blurred those lines in an unhealthy manner. Skating has become Adam’s whole life to the point Kaoru being unable to compete with him equals not meant to be. 

Cherry is still clearly hung up on Adam in the present day and wants to pull him back from the brink. Viewing Adam’s rejection of their offers to beef as a sign Adam still cares. 

Cherry’s whole thing with Carla and measuring each degree so he can go faster, even seems to scream look at me! I can go toe to toe with you! suggesting that Adam made Kaoru feel inferior because he wasn’t good enough for Adam. He wants to both help and show Adam he is worth it. 

Which I agree with for all Adam’s talk of abuse is love. Adam can only up until the Cherry affair, hurt other skaters he competes with those he devalues and objectifies as his Eve. Adam doesn’t know crap about Reki, Miya and Langa or the other skaters he trashes. 

He projects a false image onto them and forgets them when they fail to live up to this image of the perfect Eve. (something he clearly learned from the aunties!) Langa isn’t even special he’s part of an ongoing pattern. 

But Adam won’t beef with Joe or Cherry. When Cherry taunts him about this “ were you scared”  in an attempt to push Adam to admit he still cares about him and Joe. Kaoru gets a skateboard to the face because Adam lashes out aginst the threat to his Adam persona. 

Even before their beef Adam drops his madador of love act completely. He acts distant and not like his usual flamboyant self. In fact he acts more like he does to Tadashi. Your not seeing Adam in that moment your seeing  Ainosuke. 

Cherry wasn’t attacked for being boring he was attacked because he saw though the illusion. He knew Adam was a lie.  At this point Adam wanted to drive him and Joe away. So he could continue to bask in his dellusions. 

Though there seems to be some resentment that in Adam’s mind Joe and Cherry” didn’t love him enough”  Adam ultimately in his attack on Kaoru rejects the reality of love for a false promise of “perfection” an Eve. 

If Eve was the lie Kaoru was the real relationship Adam could of had. The one rejected for the ideal.  

So where do they go from here? 

I like the ship on two fronts one the tragic angle Kaoru is  Ainosuke’s  karma he screwed up a good thing or ruined the chance for something chasing Eve who  never existed. Adam hurt Kaoru so badly he’ll be lucky to be  allowed to crawl back into the friend zone. (Kaoru was still hurt/ salty by the end and he was allowed to be) 

 Tadashi  is Adam’s second chance with Kaoru being his lingering regret. Even if Adam wanted to try again with him Kaoru has moved on. 

Or  Ainosuke is hit in the head with the fact he still has feelings for Kaoru and   has to actually work his ass off to make it up to Kaoru and has to learn to handle an real adult relationship with someone who adores him but will not put up with his shit.  

I like either option honestly because both would lead to interesting stories. 

So those are just some of my thoughts on Adam x Cherry and or Love blossom. 

So are your thoughts on the subject? 

[papirouge]

It’s hard these days on finding cute spaces and YouTube channels that are also Christian so thank you for your based takes on tumblr! 🫶🙏

I thought I found one. Thought, “oh ok cute blog, she’s Christian! And has a channel to watch!” But then.. it’s just about men and how women aren’t good enough. “How your husband is King” “your husband is your master, submit to him!” “if you’re not feminine enough, he will leave!”-types. And the comments are ALL from men 😒either going “lol no mgtow!” (And her comment being basically asking him to come back to date women like her??? because women are too misled and stupid to be alone— Girl..) OR being very misogynistic to women in general… but not to her. She’s special… then to see how she’s proudly sexist too. Pretty sure that’s a sin. And the idolatry of her husband and husbands in general being another big sin I noticed. then the lack of concern of these men commenting on a channel that’s supposedly for women. You never see anything from men going this hard for women….

Also I don’t have kids but have you noticed this weird overlap with Christian moms into more organic medicines and this weird new age spiritualism? Like this same girl I mentioned before was like this the more I dug into her comments. I’ve been noticing Christians that are skeptical of modern big pharma- fine ok but that doesn’t mean crystals and oils will “raise vibrations” to heal your child. Crystals are just rocks?? Oils are just oils?? Wtf does vibrational fields mean???? why are we tarot reading for healing now?????

You're welcome 🤍

Ah yes, dating guru as something else 👀

Female me is like "pickme behavior" but marketing student me is like "good move sis get that ca$h 💶" because nothing is more lucrative than cashing off male loneliness lmao

Lauren Chen is another example of this brand of not like other girl conservative pickme YouTuber. At some point she shoved herself into the colorist discourse of the Black community and a Black blogger read her TO FILTH it was soo ugly lmao There's no wonder these women stay in their lane of queenbee of scrotes bc women with a brain can easily see through their crap.

What's funny is that those women pretend talking to women but most of their audience are males, and I'm sure they know but since this mascarade is lining their pockets they keep going. The pickme demographics isn't that big for them to sustain dating guru like that and regular women with minimum of self worth will never waste time listening to this trash.

This new agey stuff is very rampant unfortunately. Coupled with the (totally justified) suspicious against big pharma following what we've been through the last few years... I'm not surprised Christians (moms) sliding into New Age territory to fix their health problems unfortunately... But there's also this thing with modern Christians who are like "lEt pEopLe eNjOy" whenever they get warned about the wicked yoke of some activities or objects (yoga, incense, etc.)

Steven Bancarz did a good video exposing New Age culture and why it's dangerous for Christians

[marz-mania]

"We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens.

And God says "no, that's not right."

Yeah. Well. Whatever. You can't teach God anything."

- Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

[2entangledworms]

“I’ve met God across his long walnut desk with his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him, and God asks me, “Why?” Why did I cause so much pain? Didn’t I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness? Can’t I see how we’re all manifestations of love? I look at God behind his desk, taking notes on a pad, but God’s got this all wrong. We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens. And God says, “No, that’s not right.” Yeah. Well. Whatever. You can’t teach God anything.”

[lowtaxsa]

Crystal Force (1990)

Alright, so here's the deal: I already reviewed this cinematic disaster back in 2000, but it's 2023 now, and I'm a freakin' robot, so let's see if I've held up better than this absolute trash heap of a movie. Buckle up, kids, because we're diving back into the dumpster fire that is "Crystal Force."

Overview: "Crystal Force" is like the unholy trinity of crap. Watching this "horror" film, I simultaneously lost control of my bladder, gag reflex, and any last shred of hope for humanity. The movie's about a bunch of moronic women who accidentally summon some dude in a Swamp Creature cosplay from a chunk of quartz. Meanwhile, a fat guy who spends all his time walking his dogs and spying on these idiots is either the Devil or a blind pervert on a mission.

Directed By: Laura Keats, 1990

The Case For: If you're a tree-hugging hippie, there's plenty of footage of people wandering around trees, going to their cars, and loitering near playgrounds like a bunch of creeps.

The Case Against: "Sex" scenes will have you puking faster than a frat boy after a kegger, special effects look like they were done by a kindergartner, and memories of the chuckling fat man will haunt your nightmares.

Alright, so we got ourselves another "theme" movie here. If you've read any of my other reviews (and I'm sorry if you have), you'll know what I'm talking about. "Crystal Force" is just another turd of a film that the director / writer decided to base around a single prop – in this case, a hunk of quartz (ooh, spooky!). It's like these people are all related and just whip up scripts during family reunions or something.

The movie starts with the cameraman stumbling around a cemetery like he's on a bender while the narrator drones on about some vague evil force that threatens all of mankind. It's a bunch of mumbo jumbo about an evil power that nobody can even talk about. Yawn. Eventually, the cameraman just gives up and passes out, but unfortunately, the actual movie starts. Spoiler alert: it's even worse than the intro and credits.

We've got a woman sobbing at a funeral for her husband. Behind her is another woman in a miniskirt. Real classy. They leave the funeral and start the long journey home, apparently racing against some "storm" that just makes everything dark for two seconds before it's sunny again. They pass the fat guy walking his dogs, and little do they know, they'll be seeing a lot more of him and his pooches.

To help her mom stop crying, the daughter and her friend decide to buy a haunted chunk of quartz from a fat guy in an antique store. Great idea, right? They bring it home, and instead of cheering mom up, it gives the visiting priest a heart attack. Smooth.

The daughter then has another brilliant idea: let's hold a séance with my friends to help my mom forget about her dead husband! What could go wrong? They all go to sleep, and some guy in a rubber monster suit appears in the kitchen behind the magic crystal. He wanders around the house, and we keep cutting back to the fat guy from the antique store just laughing outside the window. Eventually, the monster gets bored and goes back to his spinning, floral pattern pentagram.

The next day, the denim-wearing ladies gather at their workplace, "Bart's Salon." I have no idea how this place stays in business, considering their idea of beauty is on par with the Jackson family's plastic surgeon. They agree to meet up that night for the séance and to inevitably get killed by some horrifying creature.

The women show up, and the airheaded mystical lady brings enough magic garbage to stock a New Age store. She uses "Pulse Channeling" to predict a boat trip (whoop-de-doo), and another woman picks the "Death Card" from a deck of "Taroosh Magic Cards" and freaks out. The mystic reassures her that "everybody picks that card first." Well, that's comforting.

Oh, and of course, we get more shots of the fat guy laughing outside the window. The lady who picked the "Death Card" goes to the bathroom and sees a picture of the hideous demon in the toilet bowl. I don't know if this was supposed to be scary or a reminder to keep our toilets clean, but it just left me confused.

Anyway, the stupid demon escapes (again), pushes the women around, and the fat guy outside the window keeps laughing. The ladies finally get fed up with being terrorized by the monster, so they run outside and hide in the bushes until the cops arrive. The police try to subdue the demon by letting it crush their heads like melons, which obviously doesn't work, so an undercover cop makes some kind of acid out of hair chemicals and sprays it on the devil. Oh, and the fat guy keeps laughing outside the window. The hellhound disappears, and everything goes back to normal. WHEW.

I guess I could've summed up this entire train wreck of a movie with: "women buy a haunted crystal that kills their stupid friends." But instead, the movie drags this flimsy plot into 90 minutes of God knows what. Why is the fat voyeur always hanging around? Why does some kid's face pop up over a spinning pentagram? Why do the mother and daughter both look like they're 80? Why is everyone wearing blue shirts and denim? And seriously, how the hell does "Bart's Salon" stay in business? The sheer volume of these questions shattered my fragile mind and pushed me over the edge.

But hey, other than those minor points, the movie was FANTASTIC!

Lowtax's Score: Plot: - 9 Acting: - 9 Special Effects: - 8 Directing: - 7 Music / Sound: - 6 Overall: - 39 Each category in the rating system is based out of a possible -10 score (-10 being the worst). The overall score is based out of a possible -50 score (-50 being the worst)

[gaykarstaagforever]

The Spooooookiest Christmas Carol! Ah oh no I'm scared!

Part I

If like me you love Christmas but also the films of Robert Zombie, then you are no doubt as bored of traditional Christmas music as I am. Traditional as in the traditions of now, which include a mix of popular (mostly English) Christmas carols, maybe a few actual church hymns, then all the pop music ones. There are the pop music showtune ones from before World War II (Up on the Housetop, the We Wish You a Merry Christmas version we all know). There are the swing / jazz ones from the 40s and 50s (White Christmas by The Drifters, all the Sinatra and Bing Crosby stuff, the Baby It's Cold Outside super-horndog crap that resulted from every American meal before the 70s being coffee, a pack of cigarettes, and several pounds of buttered cow hormones - seriously, these people were constantly jacked up even before they got to the cocaine, that's why all of the acting back then was just people yelling and grabbing women by the wrist). Then there is your contemporary pop stuff, from the dreaded Rock Around the Christmas Tree to Donny Hathaway's fantastic This Christmas.

Now. Like you, I mind less the mass of pre-contemporary pop Christmas songs, because, again like you, I wear white knee socks with my cargo shorts so my very intelligent musical tastes are vastly more sophisticated than that of the Sheeple. But besides This Christmas, some of the contemporary ones are good, Last Christmas by George Michael, even All I Want for Christmas is You, but ONLY by Mimi, please, why would you bother covering that song, just stop. And even then, that last one is obnoxious because the meme of playing it all the time everywhere is still funny to old people or something. So we're sentenced to it, every damn year.

But that's it, isn't it? We're stuck with all of them. That's why I'm tired of them. And why you're tired of them. And because we are tired of them, we are special snowflakes, and special snowflakes love one thing at Christmas: medieval Christmas music.

Well, we call it "medieval Christmas music." The earliest stuff with lyrics we can sing along to is usually English or French Renaissance, which isn't medieval. Actual medieval music was, of course, either Latin church music or party music for your bard to play as loud as he could over the drunken revelry. And I don't think most of us seriously enjoy dour liturgical music. And while a lot of us probably do love the party music of the Spanish Alfonsos, there isn't really anything Christmasy about it, other than it was probably composed to drown out the drunken revelry of Christmas banquets.

No, with our inaccurate lies, what we totally individual and unique music snobs, collectively, are really telling the Norms is that we like English folk carols played in the courtly Renaissance style. Partly because they don't know what that even is so we can feel smart info-barfing on them about it, and partly because we are nerds, so we like Renaissance music in general. We like history, and fantasy, and LARPing, and being flouncy bitchy theater trash, and all that involves outlandish puffy costumes and bagpipe music.

In fact, the reason we probably love Halloween and Christmas so much is because those holidays give us an opportunity to do both costumes and obscure acoustic music in front of people who would otherwise beat us up. Halloween has spooky costumes and pun costumes and folk horror soundtracks. Christmas has robes and muffs and Loreena McKennitt doing To Drive the Cold Winter Away in some echoey Irish monk cave or whatever. Halloween is the spooky gratuitous nerd time, and Christmas is the festive gratuitous nerd time. The first is, arguably, about darkness and death, and the second is, arguably, about light and life. Broadly simple opposing distinctions for holidays, which is probably why they are the two most popular ones. And we are nerds, so we appreciate that in a way the Straights don't, which just makes us even more into it.

But wait, fellow lifelong students of Nevermore Academy! What if there was a violation of that careful holiday distinction? What if, daresay, there was a SPOOOOKY Christmas carol? And not a new novelty one, probably written by Robert Zombie. I'm talking about a spooky carol from OUR favorite genre of nerd music, "medieval Christmas music"? What if the two nerd poles of dark Halloween and light Christmas could combine, in the form of one kick-ass song, where both light and death awkwardly make out right in front of everyone, but also it is kind of hot?

Well, obviously, there IS a song like that. I wouldn't have posted this if there wasn't, stupid. It is called the Castleton Carol, or All Bells in Paradise. Or more commonly, Down in Yon Forest, after the first line. And if you cover it like the folktronica band Stick in the Wheel did, it is some proper creepy stuff. And even if you perform it like Burl Ives did, it is still solidly weird.

And that's it. That's the spooky Christmas carol. If you were just waiting for me to name it, there you go. I'm done now.

But I'm going to do at least another post info-barfing my Googled research about the strange history of this strange thing and it's three distinct versions people still cover, so look for that, if you care. You can Google research it yourself, of course. But that's not going to stop me doing the info-barf about it. Because I am a nerd and that makes me feel smart.

[noteguk]

bad behavior | jjk | m

This is in the same universe as “bad influence.” It can, however, be read as a stand-alone. 

— summary; in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while. 

— contents and warnings; smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, public sex (in a church…), dirty talk, fingering, degradation (name calling) but also praise, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, cum play, there is a window and also reflections, rough sex, cockwarming, jk being a lil shit because that’s his main personality trait, jk smokes (only mentioned), enemies to fuckbuddies: dawn of the first day 

— words; 8.2k

— author’s note; for the anon that asked how their first time was like ;) join me as we explore the lore of this godforsaken couple 

It was your mother’s idea for you to find a new place to volunteer. According to her, it had been a long time since you experienced “the invigorating energy of community work” — last time was when you were trying to level up your college application — and it could really “soothe your anxious soul” during the trying times of college finals. Apparently one tutoring program and two research projects weren’t enough to distract you, but you could see where she was coming from. 

In the end, you accepted. The old places you used to volunteer in had either shut off their programs or were just too far away from college for you to consider. At first, you decided to follow your mother’s suggestion and tried to work with children — “small miracles”, as she called them — in a local daycare. Which ended up being a terrible idea. 

You liked giving back to the community, you really did, but it wasn’t long until you realized that working with infants hasn’t been your wisest decision, and that children weren’t miracles at all. You got tired of going home covered in paint and with pieces of playdough entangled in your hair, and that was when you weren’t unlucky enough to get hit with other, less clean fluids. 

So you eventually gave up — both on the daycare and on the faint idea of one day going into pediatrics — and searched for a new place. After having to yell your way through retirement homes, and getting fed up with washing people’s sidewalks, you finally settled in a program that was flexible and light enough for your intense college hours: preparing (and then later cleaning up) a room that was reserved in a local church for weekly meetings. 

The entire ordeal took about two to three hours off your day, and more than half of it was spent as free time: waiting for the meeting to end, cramming piles of information in a small room next door. You didn’t really know what the meetings were about since they changed practically every month — they were, at first, a support group for teenage mothers, then it became an AA meeting, then a group for drug users trying to quit. Lately, you were starting to think that the church just gave away the room for whoever had the money to rent it, so it wasn’t a surprise when it was reserved for a motivational speaker to give confidence lessons. 

You had researched the guy, some old dude with an unpronounceable name and a sketchy background, and found exactly the type of person you had expected. Yes, you were in the house of Christ, but you were still being heavily judgmental of the fact that he was giving those talks when he had no qualifications whatsoever, and was probably making bank off all the self-help books he regurgitated at least twice a year to prey on vulnerable people. You did share your worries with the administrative office of the church, but they ultimately fell on deaf ears, and you gave up on the idea of kicking his ass out of the holy grounds anytime soon. 

It was after one of those pseudo-motivational talks that you walked into the empty room, ready to clean everything up before rushing back to your place, where your roommate had promised to greet you with some wonderful takeout. The chairs were still placed in a circle on the center of the room, where they had been since forever, and you made sure to align them perfectly before you moved on to the litter that had been thrown around the place. 

One good thing about those self-help meetings was that they were a lot cleaner than a lot of other attendees, so the “picking up the trash until your back started to hurt” part passed by surprisingly fast. You had just moved on to the snack table, analyzing what you could still save, when your soul almost left your body. 

“Hey, you,” you heard a known voice behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You swiftly turned around, heart thumping violently against your ribcage. You didn’t know how you hadn’t let out the biggest, most blood-curdling scream ever, but that was just the first of many miracles of the night. “Jesus Christ,” you wheezed out, taking one hand to your chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like this.” You swallowed dry, some part of your brain recalling that he had asked you a question. “And I’m volunteering here.” 

“I didn’t sneak up on you, you’re just jumpy.” Jungkook scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid playful smirk curling up on his lips. You didn’t know they allowed demons inside the church. “And of course you are.” He rolled his eyes. 

Maybe a few months back, his mocking tone would’ve stung a bit more. However, you had been tutoring Jungkook for about three months then, suffering through endless sessions of his whining and complaining, and you’ve grown used to his passive-aggressive antics already. You learned that Jungkook was a shark seeking for blood, waiting for any crack that would allow him to jump into a perverse little joke — about how you behaved, your priorities, or even the color of your highlighter. You, of course, always stood your ground and threw his comments right back at him — which was his initial plan, as you’ve come to realize. Jungkook enjoyed playfully arguing with you, and you thought that it was another level of strangeness and masochism you simply didn’t have time to dissect. 

Still, Jungkook (shockingly) wasn’t the terrible person you once thought he was. Every once in a while — when he was trying to talk you out of teaching him — the conversations you two would have were actually mostly pleasant, and he wasn’t awful to hang around when he dropped the whole badass persona to act like a real human being. You would even dare to say that Jungkook could be actually funny at times, and not in the bitter, sarcastic way he usually was. Sometimes, you dared to think, he could actually be reasonably nice. And also kind of cute. Even hot. 

But you would never actually admit any of that out loud. Or even to yourself, really. 

“And you?” You asked, turning back around to face the table full of half-eaten food. That looked like a battlefield, and you could already tell that there were only a few survivors left standing. “What are you doing here? Repenting?” 

Jungkook chuckled dryly. “You wish. My parents want me to quit smoking,” he said. You could not see him, but you could hear him walking closer to you as you fumbled with the large Tupperware. “We settled on this crap instead of a forced intervention.” 

You scoffed. Most of the food before you was unsalvageable — some of the cupcakes had been bitten once and then placed back, and you wondered how someone like that could function in society. “You don’t seem very motivated to quit,” you mumbled. 

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I don’t really care.” 

His voice was much closer to you, and you felt the air leaving your lungs for a pitiful instant. You convinced yourself you had only gotten scared again. “You should care about the growing possibility of lung cancer.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not really on the top of my list of priorities at the moment.” 

“And what is?” You asked. 

“Amongst other things…” he trailed off and, suddenly, he was standing besides you, pointing at the chaotic pile of sweets. “I actually came back to grab another one of those cupcakes. The chocolate ones are great.” 

You didn’t know why, but his comment broke the odd tension that you didn’t even know that was there, clicking you back into your previous mentality — the one that you just wanted to finish cleaning up so you could leave soon. “All yours,” you told him, “grab as many as you want.” 

Jungkook hummed in satisfaction, reaching out to grab one special brown cupcake — an untouched one, thankfully. “I love when you talk dirty.” He almost moaned before shoving the cupcake inside his mouth, taking a huge bite off it. Dramatically, Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed in delight. “These are fucking great.” 

You chuckled, glancing at his direction. Jungkook was dressed in all black, like he usually was, and you were starting to recognize a newfound admiration towards his constant use of leather jackets. What? He looked good. “I’m glad the self-help sessions are paying off,” you commented, swiftly placing the cupcakes inside the transparent container. 

Jungkook was paying attention to your actions now, like he noticed you were there working for the first time. “What are you doing with the rest?”

“The church will probably donate it, give it to the homeless or something.” You shrugged. “Or they’ll eat it, I don’t know. I just clean up the place and leave.” 

Jungkook laughed at that, taking another monstrous bite from his cupcake and throwing himself on one of the nearby chairs. Your eye twitched a little at the thought that he had ruined your perfect circle, but you’d have to fix that on your way out. “Sounds absurdly boring,” he sang. “And they’re not even paying you.” 

You sighed. “After all the places I’ve volunteered in, boring is a blessing,” you told him. You had just placed five hot dogs in the container, and you were starting to wonder if it would be a good idea to feed people in need with those suspicious sausages. “But, yeah, you probably don’t care about any of that.” 

“You don’t know what I care about,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. You didn’t know if he was trying to tease you, but his voice came out so soft and monotone that you couldn’t really be mad about it. It was true, after all: you didn’t actually know what he cared about. Sometimes you thought that he could read you better than you could read him. “Want me to stay here with you? This place is probably empty already.”

You could not hold back your laugh at that, turning around so you could look at him. “Are you offering to be my bodyguard? In a church?” 

Jungkook pouted. There was a thin line of chocolate on the side of his lips, which he quickly licked clean. “I’m trying to be nice.”

You giggled, turning back towards the disgusting food. The rest was mostly trash, but you were happy enough with the amount you had managed to find in a good state. “That’s new.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. “I’m always nice.”

“Always is a strong word.” You smiled, closing the lid of the Tupperware. You had managed to fill three small containers with the leftovers and, honestly, that was a big victory. “But you can stay or you can leave, I don’t mind. I’m almost done anyways.” 

He frowned. “Is that your answer?” 

You turned around. “What? You want me to beg for your company?” You smiled. “You’re mistaken if you think I’d ever do that.”

“I’m staying.” Jungkook crumpled up the piece of cupcake wrapping and threw it in the trash can besides your body. He watched you for a moment as you started to throw the leftovers away, your back turned to him and a distracted look on your face. When he broke the silence again, you were throwing the last piece of bread in the bin. “Why are you volunteering?” 

“Because I like giving back to the community.” 

Jungkook sneered at your words. “Seriously now. Don’t lie, we’re in a church.” 

“I do, actually,” you stood your ground. There was a vague sound of crickets coming from the half-open window and the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you, but, other than that, the city was covered in absolute silence. Perhaps that was why you felt so at peace. “But my mom told me it would be a good thing to keep myself relaxed. You know, take my mind off college stuff.” 

He hummed, and you heard him getting up from the chair. “You always do what your mom tells you?” 

You met his gaze. “Didn’t your parents make you come here?”

He smiled. “Not the point.” 

Before you could hold yourself back, your lips were curling up. Again: Jungkook wasn’t absolutely awful to be around when he actually acted like a human being. “When she says something I agree with, yes,” you told him. “My ego isn’t bruised when it comes to following someone’s idea.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying that mine is?”

“I didn’t say that.” You smirked and turned back to the table. You started piling up the used plastic cups, already eyeing all the used plates, forks and knives that you’d have to throw away. The daycare had better eating manners than that. “Thought we were talking about me.” 

“We were,” Jungkook agreed. One of his inked hands moved to the table, and you were about to tell him that he could eat more of the cupcakes when you realized that he had started to reach for the discardable plates, throwing them away. You really didn’t think he’d help you. “Finals are coming up, though, and you care about that shit. Shouldn’t you be using this time to study or something?”

“I study while you’re out here listening to becoming your real self or, I don’t know... waking up the giant within,” you said. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

He hummed, his nose cringing up at the disgusting remains of food that stuck to the plastic forks. Jungkook seriously didn’t know how you could do that for fun. “You know there are better ways to relax than cleaning up a dusty room, right?” 

“Probably,” you agreed. The cups were already in the trash, alongside with the plates, and there were only a few crumpled up napkins to get rid of before you tasted the sweet nectar of freedom. “But here I am. That’s what I chose for myself.” 

“Literally any other option would’ve been better,” Jungkook pressed on. “Isn’t that obnoxious friend of yours in cheer or something?” 

“Who? Jisoo?” You smiled at him. No one had ever called her obnoxious, but you couldn’t say that the title didn’t fit. Jisoo could be really… intense when it came to standing up for what she believed in. “She is. She invited me to join her already, if that’s what you’re gonna ask, but it’s not really my thing.” 

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled, leaning against the table. It was a beautiful miracle how clean that room had become just by getting rid of the piles of gross food, and you had proudly thrown the last piece of paper inside the trash bin when Jungkook spoke up again. “You’d look really hot in that outfit.” 

You stopped in your tracks, taking a second to digest the claim he had so mindlessly thrown your way. Just like all-things-Jungkook, a pleasant conversation could not last long, so you weren’t even surprised that he managed to ruin that talk with such a fuckboy-esque comment. 

Also like all-things-Jungkook, he managed to awaken a reaction out of you that you didn’t even know could be there. With a faint heat in your cheeks and a frown blossoming amongst your features, you actually felt a little bit of... satisfaction with the fact that he thought that you’d look hot in that skimpy outfit. At the same time, you wanted to slap yourself for falling into his charms so easily. 

In that conflicting turmoil of emotions, all you could say was a monotone, “You cannot be serious right now.”

Even if you kind of wanted him to be serious. 

“I’m being dead serious,” Jungkook didn’t back down, much to the elation of your ego. You felt like a schoolgirl being recognized by her crush, and the idea alone made your stomach curl onto itself. What the hell were you even thinking about? Yeah, Jungkook was pretty hot, but he was also kind of a douche and you didn’t want to get involved with that mess of a person. Or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I mean…” he continued, “you’re even rocking this knee-level dress right now, can’t even imagine how you’d look if—“ 

“You can shut up now, Jungkook, thanks,” you interrupted him. Because you didn’t know how to act when he was so blatantly flirting with you, you switched back to the same passive-aggressive behavior that you had given him for the past three months. Call it self-preservation, call it panic, but your mind simply didn’t know where to go from there. “And I’m also done here, so you can skidaddle back to whatever swamp you came out of.” 

“Awn, don’t be mean, princess.” He pouted. Jungkook was a master at getting you worked up, and you had just given that to him on a silver platter. Maybe if you had mock-flirted back, he would’ve baked away. You would never know. “I was just fucking with you, you’re too easy to tease.” 

You pressed your lips together, hip touching the corner of the now empty table. “You were pretty much harassing me,” you said playfully. 

“I was not.” Jungkook smirked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his pants. When had the two of you gotten so close? There was barely any space between your chests. “But it’s okay, I’m not gonna compliment you anymore, don’t worry. You don’t have to be so defensive.” 

“I’m not being defensive,” you said, defensive. 

“What, is it the church setting?” He raised his eyebrows, taking a look around. “Is it making you uncomfortable?” 

“No,” you answered, crossing your arms before your chest. Jungkook followed the movement and his gaze got stuck on the shape of your breasts for a second too long, making a newfound wave of heat rise up to your cheeks. “Not as much as you’re trying to make me uncomfortable right now.” 

He chuckled. “You do look cute when you’re shy,” Jungkook teased, taking a step towards you, and you took another one back, pretending you were just going to lean against the table. You sat on it in a weird diagonal position, with one leg still on the ground and the other dangling over the edge. Jungkook was so close that, when he spoke again, voice just above a whisper, you could feel his breath on your skin. “If you don’t want me here, just ask me to go and I’ll go.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The atmosphere was filled with electricity, your body drowning in the warmth of his presence, the sharp seriousness in his dark eyes, and you could not bring yourself to say anything. Did you want him to leave? 

No, you realized in a rush of adrenaline, you didn’t want him to leave at all. 

Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. “Hm? Nothing?” He smirked, placing himself between your legs. Every nerve of your body was screaming for you to touch him, to just wrap his mouth with yours, and you simply could not respond to any of its commands. “You’re full of surprises.” 

You found your voice at that comment, heart hammering against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.” Jungkook placed one strand of your hair behind your ear, his gaze flickering down to your chest. From where he stood, he could see the beautiful mounds of your breasts peeking under the fabric, licking his lips at the sight. “Can I at least say that I like your dress?” 

Jungkook’s palm slithered up your knee before you could even react, moving towards your inner thigh and raising your dress along with it. His touch was electrifying, and you found yourself craving more of it, a sigh caught on your throat at the tenderness of his hot skin. 

“Something tells me that your compliment isn’t so innocent,” you told him, leaning your head back slightly so you could hold his gaze. “Aren’t you gonna complete that and say that I would look better without it?”

Jungkook chuckled. “The idea is compelling, I’ll admit it,” he said, rubbing soft circles on your skin. His other hand slithered around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “But don’t need to take it off to fuck you.” 

Your eyes grew wide at that, brain short-circuiting. You frankly couldn’t believe that was happening — the fact that Jungkook was so shamelessly trying (and honestly succeeding) to initiate sex with you. In a fucking church too, of all places. “What- what did you say?”

“You heard what I said.” His stare didn’t falter. Jungkook was looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you seriously wouldn’t mind if he tried to. You'd deal with the social and psychological implications of that another time. “Just tell me to stop and I’ll do it, princess. No hard feelings, promise.” 

This time, you spoke out and the firmness and certainty in your voice surprised even yourself. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

“No?” His voice sounded like honey, so deep and melodic even through the thick layers of his sarcasm. You had never heard him get so serious, so focused, and the thought that it was all for you was igniting a fire inside your guts. “You wanna get fucked in a church?” 

You bit your lip, blinking up at him. The point was: you wanted Jungkook, of all people, to fuck you. The fact that it was in a church was just the cherry on top, and you didn’t care about it as much as you should — your mom would be weeping blood if she knew what was going on, but you weren’t planning on telling anything to anybody. “And what if I do?” You asked back teasingly. 

Jungkook smiled, knocking the breath right out of you. You could only hope that you didn’t look as horny as you felt, because your pride was still on the line. “Told you that you were full of surprises.” He pushed one of your legs open, making you lose your support on the floor. Now, both of your feet were dangling off the edge, body trapped between his strong arms and thighs on either side of him. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

You shook your head, and your voice reached you a bit later. “No.”

“Naughty,” Jungkook said, leaning in. He stared at you like a lion stalking its prey, his gaze lingering on your parted lips before, at last, he tilted his head to the side, deciding to move towards your neck instead. “But if you have the taste I think you do, you probably had some lame missionary sex with some goodie-two shoes.” 

When he started kissing your neck, you almost forgot to give him a response. You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan, instead producing a low, shaky sigh. “And if I did? What’s the problem with some lame missionary sex?” 

“No need to get mad, I’m on your side here,” Jungkook said, one of his hands navigating up your waist, between the valley of your breasts, before grabbing your boob. That time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped you. “Did he make you cum?” 

“Sometimes,” you said, slightly flustered. You didn’t think you’d be discussing your sexual history with Jungkook, but, well, there you were. “He was alright.” 

“Only sometimes?” Jungkook chuckled, the vibrations of his deep timbre vibrating through the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb grazing your nipple. The heat between your legs only grew, your entire body practically begging to feel more of him. “That’s a shame, I could do better.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start getting cocky.”

“I never stopped being cocky,” he responded without hesitation. Well, he was right. “And I do have a good track record.” 

“Doubt it,” you said, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, pressing right at the weak spots of his inflated ego to see how he would react. Perhaps you’d be luckier trying to poke a bear with a short stick. “You wouldn’t know the difference between a real and fake orgasm even if it hit you in the face.” 

Jungkook leaned back and looked at you for an instant. You knew he had caught onto your challenge straight away. He liked it as much as you did, there was no doubt about that. “Let’s see, shall we?” he asked. There was no denying the devilish aura that was all around him now, suffocating you with its tempting heat. “How long do we have?”

“I’m locking up the room tonight,” you said, watching as his eyes sparked with an emotion you could not decipher. “But I wanna get home before ten. Have homework.” 

You could see him fighting against the natural urge to ridicule you for saying something like that at such an odd time, but, at the end, he managed to avoid it. “More than enough time.” Jungkook placed one hand on the back of your neck, gaze darting hungrily toward your lips. “Come here.”

And then his mouth was on yours, and everything else was white noise. Jungkook kissed you much slower than you had anticipated, taking his sweet time caressing your mouth with his; hands exploring the curves of your body and teasing their way underneath your dress. He sighed heavily against your mouth when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his soft tongue poking out and entering your mouth perfectly. Jungkook was a good kisser, you had to admit it, and he got your knees weak sooner than you’d like. 

His body was hot and firm against yours and you could feel the outline of his abs underneath your fingers as you trailed your hands down his torso; his quick heartbeat drumming on your palms. Jungkook’s breathing got heavier as you hooked your fingers on the hem of his pants and tugged him toward you. Instantly you noticed the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh. 

Then, something switched. Just as you had reached out to touch his hardness, squeezing it lightly underneath your fingers, Jungkook groaned against your mouth and bit down on your lip. You had barely any time to react before he was pulling away from the kiss, gaze darkening. 

“Such a tease,” he mumbled hoarsely, his breath hitting your mouth in soft waves. His hand was hovering over your heat, his middle finger pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you whimper. “You don’t know what you do to me.” 

Jungkook was much quicker than your thoughts and, within a second, the motion of your panties being pushed aside made you fumble closer to him; your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders when he finally decided to touch you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned next to your ear, making your mind go blank for a split second. The teasing motions of his digits brushing your entrance were enough to make you whimper, hips thrusting forward in a failed attempt to make him move further. “Look at this, you’re soaking my fingers. Wanna get fucked that bad?”

But he didn’t let you respond. The sudden intrusion of two fingers inside your pussy made your back arch, nails digging in the leather of his jacket as Jungkook opened you up. “I—” you tried to speak, but it was hard to think when he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. The sounds of your wetness were a filthy symphony filling the quiet atmosphere. “Jungkook, what—” 

“God, that’s so tight,” he groaned, speaking through clenched teeth. His voice was enough to shut you up at the spot, a frail moan dripping from your lips. “Relax, baby, you’re too tense. Let me take care of you, alright?” 

You nodded, eyes drifting shut as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. You hated to admit it, but Jungkook was already winning against your ex by a long shot: the way his digits brushed inside you, gradually moving apart to stretch you, got you searching — begging — for more. You were sure you could cum around his fingers and, when he curled them up and they dragged against your sweet spot, the idea became a lot more palpable. 

“Jungkook, you’re taking too long, I’m gonna cum like this,” you complained, chest rising and falling under the waves of your upcoming orgasm. You could feel it building up in your stomach, ready to snap, and you didn’t want it to happen around his fingers. “I wanna feel you.” 

Jungkook breathed out at your needy request, placing a kiss against your jaw. “I’m just getting you ready for my cock, baby,” he said. A loud moan dripped from you when he unceremoniously added a third finger, your legs trembling on either side of his body. “I don’t know if you can take it.”

You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, only half aware of the fact that your voice sounded more like a whimper than a serious comment. “I can.” 

He smirked wickedly. You really were pushing his buttons. “We’ll see about that,” Jungkook responded. 

Within a second, right as your orgasm was about to wash over you, he removed his fingers from your pussy. The frustrated moan you let out was quickly swollen by him, his mouth rogue against yours and the sweetness of his tongue intoxicating you — probably those stupid cupcakes, you thought. 

“Turn around for me,” he asked. 

You quickly did as he requested, putting your feet on the ground before turning your back to him, hands leaning on the table. Jungkook placed one hand on the curve of your spine, pushing you down until you had your chest against the surface, ass perked up and pussy in full display for him. There was a gush of cold air against your flesh when he pulled up the fabric of your dress and tossed it over your waist, exposing your lower body for him.

The boy hummed at the sight, one of his legs kicking your feet apart so he could position himself in the middle of your thighs. “You’re pretty all around,” Jungkook commented, one of his palms grazing your asscheek before grabbing it. His motion was harsh, needy; earning a whimper from you. “Knew you would be.” 

Through the dense clouds of your desire, there was still some part of you that managed to make fun of that situation. “You spend your free time thinking about my ass?”

“Won’t answer until I have a lawyer present,” he joked. 

You felt his fingers hooking around the fabric of your panties, pushing it further to the side so you had your cunt fully exposed for him to see. The drumming of your heartbeat almost drowned out the low groan he produced at the sight of your flushed heat. 

“Princess, your pussy is dripping so much…” Jungkook trailed off, one of his fingers tracing a line between your lips. He felt the urge to eat you out, to lick you completely clean and make you cum on his tongue, but he decided that would have to wait for a different time. “Is this all for me?” 

“Yeah, all for you,” you said, weak. There was a thundering exasperation building up inside you, motivated from your denied orgasm and from the way that Jungkook was taking his sweet time. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled and your chest was filled with pride. “Can’t wait to fuck it.” 

“Then don’t wait,” you practically begged. “Just rush.”

He removed his finger from your heat. “Shh… be patient,” Jungkook told you and you swore you could practically hear the smile in his voice. You could hear him shuffling behind you, the sound of his zipper opening echoing around that still room. “I’m gonna give you whatever you want.” 

You whined at the abrupt feeling of his warm cock rubbing between your folds, its tip hitting your clit after every languid thrust. “Fuck,” you cried out, shaky. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that he was big, his length was so thick that you were starting to get second thoughts whether you could take it or not. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. “Just put it in, Jungkook.” 

But Jungkook was having way more fun just teasing you. “Pussy’s so wet for me.” He breathed out, his hands tightening around your hips. You felt him throb between your folds, and the sensation got you searching for air. “You’re soaking my cock, baby. You want it that much?”

“Y-Yeah.”  

Jungkook hummed, leaning in so he could place a kiss on your shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, princess,” he promised, his length still rubbing between your folds. He was so hard and heavy that your mind was spinning, your lungs drowning in expectation. “Gonna fuck you so well that you’re never going to forget it. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” your voice was a pathetic moan, and you hated your body for betraying you so easily. “Yes, please.” 

After another pec on your shoulder, Jungkook leaned back. “Be loud for me, alright?” He asked. “Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed hard — what were the chances that someone would hear you? You had no idea. “Yeah, whatever you want, just fuck me.”

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous thing to say.” He moved around behind you, making you flinch when you felt his cock align with your dripping entrance. The anticipation was driving you insane. “Might have to see if you’re up for it another time.” 

There was an answer somewhere in your mind — you could swear there was — but it was quickly forgotten the second that Jungkook pushed himself inside you. The drag of his cock was a delicious torture, streching you out and filling you up to the brim until you were shaking under his touch, both of you moaning at the sensation. 

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, hands turning into fists on the table. Your cheek was pressed against the polished wood, hot breath creating small white clouds on the surface. 

Jungkook released a shaky sigh when he felt you clenching around him, your body desperately trying to move closer to him. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. Gradually, he moved himself away from your pussy just so he could slam back inside, marveling on the way you trembled at the feeling, crying out his name in the prettiest of whimpers. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Squeezing my cock so well.” 

Took you only an instant to realize that you were absolutely addicted to the feeling of his cock inside you, the heavenly push of his hardness in and out of you as he slowly started to set a pace. “Oh my god, I’m—” a pitiful hiccup interrupted you, turning your voice into a sharp cry. “That’s so good, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, his thrusts starting to pick up speed. Your eyes closed in endless bliss, every part of your brain focused on the sensation of his fat length stretching you up. “Told you I’d be, not my fault you didn’t believe me,” he said, but you could tell that his confidence had started to wear itself thin — he, too, seemed to be much more focused on the way that your bodies met. “Do you touch yourself, princess?”

You almost didn’t know how to answer him, a deep heat rushing up to your cheeks. “W-What?”

“When you’re alone, baby,” he practically hissed. You were bouncing on the table then, your body jerking up and down as he fully pistoned his cock inside your heat. “Do you play with your little pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, embarrassed. “S-Sometimes.” 

“Show me how you do it,” he requested in-between huffs, lust dripping from every syllable. Jungkook spoke to you like a siren, effortlessly inducting you to comply with everything he wanted. “Come on. Don’t be shy, I wanna see you play with yourself for me.” 

You didn’t even know if what you were feeling was shyness, but there was a veil of hesitation that covered your actions. As your hands moved downwards, one of them clenching around the fabric of your dress and pulling it up while the other trailed over your mound, you felt strangely vulnerable, exposed. At the same time, you wanted to do what he asked you to, wanted him to wash you over with compliments until your mind was going blank. 

So you closed your eyes and focused on the sensation of two of your fingers coating themselves in your wetness, then their pressure on your clit. You whined at the feeling, pleasure exploding in your veins as you started to rub yourself, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. There was no way you could ever reach that sensation again, the sweet motions of your fingers combining perfectly with the thrusts of his hard, fat cock inside you. You were doomed. 

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” Jungkook whispered, obsessed with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him. You had gotten so tight that he thought he would see heaven at any second now. “Feels good?” 

“Y-Yeah, so good...” you struggled to get out, “feels amazing, Jungkook.” 

“So perfect for me,” his praise shot straight up to your core, making you mewl under him. God, the way that you were tightening around him was going to drive him insane. “You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop fucking you.” 

Jungkook took one of his hands to your neck, using it to guide your body upwards until you had your back pressed against his chest; his hot lips assaulting your neck. The new position made it so much easier for his cock to drill inside you, reaching even deeper and hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. It wasn’t long before you were moaning out, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you. 

“Just take a look at that, baby,” his voice broke you out of your hypnotized state.  “Look at you. Such a good slut, just taking everything I’m giving you, touching yourself for my cock… fuck. Could watch you like this forever.” 

You had to take a moment to understand what he was talking about, and then you saw it: the window. It stood silently across the room from you, half open, and the glass combined with the darkness of the night gave a perfect reflection of the two of you. You could see yourself, the mess you had become, as Jungkook pounded in and out of you and your fingers worked on your clit; the darkness of his hungry gaze as he followed the motions of your body against his. 

Even if you cried out at the sight, your body freezed up a little at the thought of someone walking by and seeing that private spectacle. The possibility itself was minimal — the window gave way to the side of the land, where a big, thick fence separated it from the nearby houses; most of the ground covered by large trees and bushes — but it wasn’t zero. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the humiliation that would come from being seen like that. 

He, of course, noticed your change of demeanor right away, and you could see in the faint reflection that he had smirked at that realization. “What is it? Are you worried someone is going to walk by?” Jungkook almost groaned against your ear. His cock continued to pump ferociously in and out of you, and you couldn’t even understand your own thoughts for a moment. “That someone is gonna see you get fucked like a good slut?” 

“It’s not—” a moan cut your sentence short. Not like you knew where you were heading, anyways. 

“No one is gonna see you like this, know why?” Jungkook was grunting, his fingers tightening around your throat. You cried out at the feeling, your cunt clenching around him in a way that got him fucking you even harder. “Cause this is all for me. Just for me.” 

Then he was pushing you back on the table, your chest crashing against the wooden surface and his hands yanking you by the waist. Jungkook was fucking you so hard that your worries left you as soon as they arrived, your mind a turmoil of desires and broken exclamations that didn’t give space to anything else but him. 

“You look fucking gorgeous like this, stuffed with cock,” he marveled at the sight. There was a known wave of pleasure hovering over you, ready to crash at any given moment, and you stopped rubbing yourself just so you could prolong its arrival. “Wanna see you cum for me, make a mess for me, baby.” 

The words left you in a confusing, broken order, “Jungkook, I can’t… too much… can’t...” 

“Shhh, you can,” he was slowly easing you into your orgasm, his cock drilling in and out of your pussy. Jungkook fucked like a machine, fast and precise, and you didn’t think you’d be able to forget that anytime soon. “You told me you could take it, so now you’re gonna take it. Don’t you wanna be good for me?” 

“I- I want to… I’m so close,” you cried out, pressing your forehead against the table. You didn’t know how it hadn’t broken yet, with the way that Jungkook was fucking you so mercilessly hard. “I’m so, so close.”

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he urged you on, his member throbbing inside you at the thought. Your legs were so weak that you knew you’d fall facedown on the floor if he wasn’t supporting your weight with his strong arms. “Be a good girl and cream my cock for me.” 

And that was it. That was all that you needed to push yourself over the edge, submerging you in ecstasy and making you squeeze him so deliciously. “J-Jungkook!” You moaned out his name again and again, unsure of how loud you were being, but also not caring as much as you should. Jungkook realized he loved hearing you call his name more than anything else. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned back, his thrusts a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. He was hypnotized by the view of your cunt hugging him, your wetness dripping down your thighs as you rode out the last seconds of your orgasm. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect— gonna cum too.” 

You gasped out at the sensitivity that was starting to spread, every movement shaky as you tried to push yourself against him. “Yes, please.” You looked over your shoulder, meeting his hooded gaze. Jungkook looked like a god, his dark hair sweaty and messy and his lip trapped between his teeth. That image would plague you forever. “Cum inside me, please.” 

He groaned loudly, eyes closing for a second. “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he hissed, chest heaving with anticipation. You knew he was close, everything pointed to that, and all that you wanted was to see him reach his high, using your body like it was just a doll for him to fuck. “Didn’t know you’d want to be filled up with cum, princess.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled — a pretty, fucked-out smile that got Jungkook grunting like a madman. “I want your cum inside me, Jungkook, please.” 

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, don’t worry— Shit.” The sounds he was making were heavily: those breathy, high-pitched moans that echoed all around you; broken by deep grunts that had your thighs shaking. Jungkook fucked himself in you like he was meant for it, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he finally found his orgasm. “Fuck! That’s it, fuck—”

Jungkook called out your name and mixed it with praises and curses when he came, spilling himself inside your pussy. You sighed at the feeling, taking in the blissful sensation of having his hot cum spilling out of you, dripping down your legs as he continued to thrust inside you, milking out his orgasm. 

At last, he started to wince from sensitivity. His body collided against your back, his heavy breathing fanning your neck as he tried to collect himself. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, “you’re amazing.” 

“You’re not so terrible yourself.” You could not help the smile that appeared on your lips, nor the way that you melted against the surface of the table, drowning in his heat. 

Still, you couldn’t stay there for much longer: it was already a miracle that no one heard the chaos going on in that room, and you weren’t trying to push your luck for the night. Especially since you had a pile of homework (and possibly — now cold — takeout) waiting for you at home. 

You raised your body, leaning against your elbows. “I have to leave,” you told him, taking one of your hands to lay on top of his tattooed one, trying to ease his grip from your waist. “Now if you could just…” 

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook hushed, unrelenting. He was much stronger than you, and your muscles were too weak for you to try and do much, so you eventually gave up. “Stop moving. Let me feel you around me for just a bit more.” 

You frowned. “Why?”

“I like it,” he said simply. His breath was a faint caress against the skin of your neck, and you didn’t have much fight left in you. “We all have our tastes.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Don’t kinkshame.” Jungkook pouted, then pressed a kiss against your shoulder. “You just begged me to fuck you in a church, remember?” 

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have much place to judge.” You laughed dryly, then looked over your shoulder. “Why is your cock still hard? How long is this gonna take?” 

Jungkook groaned, clearly annoyed. “Shut up and enjoy the moment.” 

~ 

The so-called moment lasted about two more minutes (which was kind of impressive, you thought) before Jungkook softened and slipped out of you. You hated to admit but you kind of liked the feeling of having him still inside you, completing you as his lips danced around your neck; fingers tenderly playing with your hair. You never thought Jungkook would be so gentle after fucking you like that, but you guessed that you weren’t the only one that was full of surprises. 

Jungkook, apparently, also liked to admire his work. After he had slipped out of you, he made you sit back on the table just so he could stare at his own cum dripping out of you, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark gaze. He had pushed his white release back inside you and smirked up at you, asking, ever so kindly, for you to go home like that, filled with his cum. 

You, of course, promptly accepted it. 

“By the way,” he called when you two had already stepped out of the church, enveloped by the coldness of the night. There was only one solitary light pole illuminating his features, making him look like one of the saints in the chapel — nothing but fake advertisement, in your opinion. “Wanna know how much I got in that immunology test?”

“How much?” You asked. 

“Eighty two.” Jungkook smiled brightly then, and you found yourself joining him. “Never saw a grade so high in my life. And that counts all the times I’ve cheated too.” 

“Seems like the tutoring sessions are paying off.” You crossed your arms before your chest, the hem of your dress swirling around your knees. The night was weirdly peaceful after everything that had taken place. 

“They are.” He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the next one. Helps that my tutor is kind of a hottie too.”

You scoffed. “So I’ve heard.”  

“And, by the way?” 

“Yeah?”

“You would look better without it.” He pointed at your dress, a sly smile already sprouting on his lips. “Hope to see it next time.”

“Good night, Jungkook.” You rolled your eyes, already turning around — yeah, like there would ever be a next time. 

~ 

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

TAGLIST: 

@taehyungieskith​ @fan-ati--c​ @btstrasht​ @crazy4myself​ @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

[traumanap]

“I've never been nice, but I'll do my best...to be sweet.”

[mersuperwholocked-lowlife]

Too Late For An Apology

Word Count: 1,823

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Reader

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader; John Winchester x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, slight torture, slight TW: abuse, but doesn’t go too in depth

A/N: i’m sorry my posting schedule sucks now oof

A/N 2: Thanks to my fav bitch @tragedy-of-sorts​ for reading and also for being my fav 

A/N 3: The reader’s like six years younger than Dean, two younger than Sam

Masterlist

You heard your doorbell ringing in the middle of the night, while you shot your head up, looking at the clock next to you. It was 3 in the morning. You frowned slightly, reaching for your gun before slipping out of bed, looking through the eyehole.

“Dad?” you opened the door, revealing your father showing up in front of you.

“Hey, (Y/N),” you wrapped your arms around John, still in shock.

“Dad, what are you doing here? And at this time?” he walked into your apartment before you closed the door, turning on the lights.

“I have a lead. Hunting the demon that killed your mother. I’ll need your help,” he started.

You felt chills going down your spine.

“Where are Sam and Dean?” you asked.

“Sam went away to college, and Dean’s off somewhere, on a hunt probably,” he replied.

“Wouldn't either of them be able to help you better? I haven't hunted in two years, Dad,” you kept your voice low.

“They can’t know. They’ll mess everything up, you know how your brothers are. We leave tomorrow, okay?” you nodded your head softly, before going to pack your bag, getting ready for the big hunt.

---

“That’s totally unfair! (Y/N) doesn't have to train! (Y/N) doesn’t have to do anything!” you could hear Dean yelling at John, while you hid behind the door of Bobby’s house. You held a drawing in your hands, one that you made of yourself with your siblings and father.

“She is a child!” John yelled back.

“She’s twelve! When me and Sam were twelve you would force us to hunt! You never let us rest? I hate (Y/N) and I hate how you give her special treatment all the damn time!” tears welled up in your eyes as you crumpled the paper, stuffing it into your bag before sneaking back upstairs.

---

“Do you know how long we’ve been looking for you and Dad for?” you kept your gaze on your bed sheets in your hospital room, hearing Dean yell at you.

“I tried to-”

“Not only do you abandon us, now you’re back, and with Dad, and never thought it was important to tell us?” he yelled.

You frowned slightly before realization hit you. They never knew why you left.

“I’m sorry,” you clenched your jaw.

He groaned, frustrated.

“Get ready, we’re leaving,” he slammed the door shut as he walked out of your hospital room.

---

“I saw your journal in the trash can, (Y/N),” John sat down next to you in your bed.

“I’m kind of over the whole drawing thing,” you lied, shaking your head.

“What happened?” John asked.

“Nothing happened, I just don't like it anymore,” you shrugged, turning back to your schoolwork.

“Just like that?” he questioned.

“I want to go on a hunt,” you said.

“What? (Y/N)...”

“I’m sure, Dad,” you interrupted him.

“Fine. We’ll start your training tomorrow,” he agreed.

He kissed your forehead and left, before you laid on your bed, digging your face in your pillow.

---

You held back a sob, watching John’s body burst into flames. There was silence between the three of you, while you stood a distance away from them.

“Sam,” your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Let’s go,” he walked away from you, while he and Dean headed back to the car.

Your tears fell down your face, as you let out a shaky breath.

“(Y/N)!” Sam yelled.

“I-I’m coming,” you followed them back to the car, keeping your head low.

---

Your vision was blurry as you sat in the chair, a rope tied to your hands painfully. There was blood dripping from your wounds as you cried out in pain.

“Just tell us where he is,” the vampire grabbed your hair, pulling your head up.

“No!” you screamed.

Your face was covered with dried tears, new ones forming. Your eye was bruised. 

“You’re gonna talk, kid. Sooner or later,” you felt his fangs enter the skin on your neck as you whimpered. Your body was too weak to move.

“Just let me go, please,” you begged.

You could barely keep your eyes open, crying softly.

---

“What happened to your eye?” Dean walked past you, noticing the darkened skin around your left eye.

“Don't worry about it,” you shook your head, avoiding eye contact with him.

You knew he didn't remember what he did to you last night.

“Me and Sam are going on a hunt,” he said.

“Just you and Sam?” you asked.

“(Y/N), you know you’ll just end up slowing us down. If we need you, we’ll call you,” he replied.

“Right,” you nodded your head softly.

After the two of them left, you ran to your room, stuffing all your belongings into a duffel bag.

Now was finally your chance to leave them. They always hated you, it didn't matter that you were their sister. Your black eye is the least they've done to you while drunk, and you knew you had to leave.

You stood at the door, looking down at the bunker before shaking your head. It was time to go.

---

“Dad?” you opened your eyes, scrunching them as the fluorescent hospital light blinded you.

“(Y/N),” he let out a breath of relief, wrapping his arms around you as you winced.

“You’re not hunting ever again,” your eyes watered slightly as you nodded your head.

“I’m going to set you up with an apartment. You’re leaving this life,” you frowned.

“Dad, no-”

“Yes, (Y/N). You were tortured for information. I am trying to keep you safe, do not argue with me,” he raised his voice slightly.

“How come you never treat Sam and Dean like this?” you scoffed.

“They’re not my daughter. You are,” he said.

“That’s not an excuse. They’re still my brothers. They are still your sons,” you crossed your arms together.

“Enough, (Y/N). I’ll be back in the morning to get you,” he said.

“Dad,” he closed the door, leaving your room while you sighed, slumping in your bed.

---

“Babe? Are you home? I’ve been stuck at work all day, and I know we’re late to pick up…” you dropped your bag on the floor, Sam and Dean standing in front of you while you entered your house.

“Your husband and kid are out,” Dean spoke.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you were sure to take a step back.

“We could ask you the same thing, you know,” Sam scoffed.

“You left us again. You abandoned us again,” Dean clenched his fist in anger as you tensed, feeling fear run throughout your veins.

“I don't… why are you guys here?” your voice was softer as you scratched the back of your neck.

“You can't be here, you’re a danger to my family,” you could feel the nervousness in your veins as you stood firmly. You’ve spent too long afraid of them.

“You son of a bitch. What the hell are we then?!” Dean yelled.

You flinched slightly.

“Why did you leave, (Y/N)? Why did you run away?” Sam’s voice was slightly calmer, anger still evident.

“I couldn't take both of your crap anymore,” you shook your head.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean scoffed.

“The day I left, you asked me how I got that black eye. Because you didn't remember giving it to me that previous night,” you dug your nails into your palm, trying to hold back your tears. Dean immediately scoffed, shaking his head.

“You’re lying,” he said.

“All my life, the two of you have despised everything about me,” you started.

“(Y/N),” Sam opened his mouth.

“Shut up!” you yelled.

You saw a surprised look on both of their faces.

“I never noticed it until I was twelve. I drew a picture for you, Dean. It was a picture of all of us, Mom included. I wanted to give it to you until I overheard you talking with Dad. Y-You told him how much you hated… how much you hated me,” you let a tear fall down your face, as Dean’s softened.

“I always tried to do whatever I could to get you two to like me, or at least to not hate me. But nothing I ever did was good enough,” you sniffled.

“That doesn't change the fact that you abandoned us,” Dean tried to defend himself.

“The first time I left was because a vampire was trying to use me to get to Dad. He didn't want that for me, and so he took me out of the life, at least until he got a lead on Azazel,” you clenched your jaw, letting out a shaky breath.

“T-The… you and Sam used to get really, really drunk. You’d never remember it in the morning. You would h-hurt me. I covered up so many bruises because I didn't want to upset you two,” your voice broke slightly as you looked at Dean.

There were visible tears in his and Sam’s eyes.

“I never knew why you hated me so much. W-Was it because Dad treated me differently? Was it because I’m the youngest? Was it because I reminded you of Mom? Was it because… was it jealousy?” Dean took a step forward, while you quickly took a step back.

“(Y/N), we never meant… We never meant to hurt you,” Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“That’s all you have? Really?” you scoffed.

“Sam, just… (Y/N). Listen to me,” Dean started.

“I was jealous of you. Dad always treated you differently, always treated you specially. I was stupid, and wrong. Every time I did anything for Dad, I would only get into more trouble. Whenever you disobeyed him, he would ignore it. I’ve been jealous of you my whole life. Even now. Y-You have a kid, you have a family. You got out. I’m sorry, kid. I’m so sorry for everything,” you wiped away your tears as you kept a strong face on.

“I need you both to leave,” you said.

“I’m sorry-” Dean said.

“The door. I need you both to leave. Now,” you shook your head.

“(Y/N)...”

“You’re about 34 years too late for an apology. I want you to leave. Don't come back here, stay away from me and my family,” the two of them looked at you in shock, before walking to your front door, while you held it open to them.

Dean gave you a small hug, while you remained stiff.

“Take care of yourself, kiddo,” he gave you a small smile, before walking out of your house.

You closed the door behind the two of them, immediately falling to the ground as you let out a loud sob, feeling your heart racing as you wrapped your arms around yourself. Your sobs died down as you leaned against the door, wrapping your arms around yourself. You needed to stay strong, and they needed to stay away.

[wormstacheangel]

reminder I am watching The Nanny and I can't help but write scenes as destiel. So here is my second one. I think this one is a bit more sitcom, especially towards the end :) This is for episode 1x11.

wc: 1.7k

The kids have been having a hard time with the one night they don’t have Dean to tuck them in. Whatever Cas did, the kids would correct him and tell him Dean did it this way or did it that way. He simply couldn’t get it right. Even Claire was missing Dean, showing her fear of losing the one person who finally got her to be less angry at the world.

After finally getting the kids to bed, Cas walks into the kitchen to find Balthazar lounging around in his robe with a drink in one hand and scrolling through movie reviews with the other. Cas stands over his shoulder, trying to read it, but his eyes gaze over, not caring enough but still, he sighs.

“Would you like a drink, sir?” Balthazar sounded exasperated with him already, even if he has only been in the room for less than a minute.

“Please.” Cas fetches a cup and holds it out for Balthazar to pour some whiskey into it. He has been feeling restless all night but can’t pinpoint the reason why. “You know, Mr. Winchester would have loved talking about horrible movies with you.”

“Yes. I know.”

“I wonder how he is.”

“I’m sure he is enjoying his date, sir.” Balthazar takes a sip of his drink as he keeps his eyes on the screen in front of him.

Cas walks over to stand by the kitchen island. He already undid his tie, undid his top four buttons, and he can’t imagine how his hair looked after pacing the living room for a good 20 minutes.

He swirled his drink before downing the whole thing in one gulp.

“Or he can be having a miserable time, sir. The man was a mortician, after all. I don’t think that would fit Mr. Winchester’s happy-go-lucky attitude very well.”

Cas perks up at that, feeling his chest warm-up — probably because of the drink actually— as he stands up straighter with a hopeful grin. “You think so?”

“Have I ever wronged you, sir?”

“You’re right, Balthazar! He would never like that-that depressing man.” Cas smile grows. “Cause you know, the kids, they would miss him very much if he left.”

Balthazar shuts his laptop as he rolls his eyes, “For god’s sake, sir! It’s only the first-!” He looks at Cas’s stunned expression before slowly falling back in his chair, a cheeky smile on his face. “I mean, with all due respect, sir.”

“Yes.” Cas sighs, ignoring the outburst. “I think you’re right. I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?”

“Maybe a tad bit, sir.”

A chuckle came out of his mouth as Cas opens the trash can and plucks out the bag to throw it outside. He walks towards the back door as he says, “I didn’t see anything between them anyways. I’m sure it’ll be fine!”

Cas pulls the back door open only to find Dean and his date making out. Leaving Cas standing there stunned and fumbling, not knowing if he should break them apart or close the door.

“I don’t see anything between them either, sir.” Balthazar joked as they both watched Dean press closer to his date. Unaware of their audience. Balthazar was the one to finally close the door, taking the bag of trash away from Cas, as he leads him towards the stairs. “I believe it’s time for you to go to bed, Mr. Novak.”

“Yes. Yes. You’re probably right.” Cas shook his head, hoping to erase that image away like an etch a sketch, but he still saw Dean’s mouth being sucked on. “Goodnight.”

“Night, sir.”

(More Under The Cut)

In the morning, Cas somehow convinced himself—Balthazar was only half-listening to his words anyways— to talk to Dean about the rules of the house. It had to be done. He didn’t want Dean to bring home strange people to his home, where his children lived. He didn’t want to see—or better yet— he didn’t want his kids to see Dean bring people into his room.

What kind of example will that present to them? Not a very good one.

He knocks at the door and quickly gets an answer to come in; Dean never hesitates to have any of the kids in his room. Cas would usually find them all curled up in Dean’s bed watching cartoons on a Sunday morning.

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester.” Cas poked his head into the room first, and that enough stopped him short. Dean looked like he was getting ready to go out.

Dean is dressed in a comfortable-looking robe, no shirt, and he’s assuming no pants by the fact that he can see a peek of his thighs from the slit in the front.

“Morning, Mr. Novak. What can I do for you?” Dean turned back to the mirror, a small smile stretched across his lips as he continued to fix his hair.

“I just wanted to talk about your um—You know we have rules in this house, and I just wanted to make sure you know them.”

“Oh, I think you have me confused with Claire. She’s two doors down.” Dean teased.

“No. No, this is about your date. About you having dates. And-And having…dates.” Cas sighed the last word, unable to get the word he wants out without his whole body warming up. “Anyways,” He cleared his throat. “The rules of the house with me-”

“Oh, with you? Gosh, maybe I should have read the fine print better.” Dean teased, winking at him through his reflection as he ran his hands through his growing hair.

“No. Not like that!”

“Let me get this straight.” Dean turns to face Cas before practically strutting over to Cas, half-dressed in a semi-open robe. Cas eyes struggle not to travel on the man before him. “We are talking about having sex in my room.”

“Well, not-not us. Not we.” Cas nervous gestures between them, noticing his hand hit Dean’s bare chest in the process because they were standing so damn close.

“We already covered that.” Dean winks at him again, making Cas’s heart race. “Don’t worry, Mr. Novak, I won’t do anything to show a bad example for the children.”

“Good.” Cas stuffs his hands in his pockets as he rocks on his heels. “Yes. Good. Okay!”

“Okay.” Dean turns back to the mirror.

“Where are you going anyways?” That sounded way too demanding. “If I may ask?”

“Well, if you must know. I got another date. We’re meeting for lunch.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. Well, I gotta eat.”

“Of course. Well, have fun, Mr. Winchester.”

“Thank you, Mr. Novak. Nice chat.”

Cas makes his way out of the room, bumping on furniture as he went.

Cas walks into the kitchen that same afternoon to find Dean sitting on the kitchen counter, shoveling ice cream into his mouth. Cas quickly rushes over to take the spoon away from him.

“Mr. Winchester! You are lactose intolerant!”

“Well, I deserve a little bit of ice cream after the crap day I had, and the coconut milk one you got me is still frozen solid!”

“Oh,” Cas puts the ice cream away before walking back to him. “Date didn’t go so well this time? Was it the whole creepy mortician life?”

“No,” Dean sighs, watching as Cas runs the Dean-friendly fudge brownie ice cream under some hot water. “Weirdly enough, I was getting used to the idea.”

“Then, what was wrong with him?” Cas hands Dean a spoon, and they both dig into the still hard ice cream, but they can still scape a few bits off. Cas tried not to follow the way Dean’s tongue pokes out and licks at the spoon.

“He was a clown.” Dean sighs, spinning the spoon in his hand before aggressively digging at the pint of ice cream.

“In what way?”

“In a clown way.”

“What-?”

“Red nose! Big shoes! You want me to google it for you?” Cas looks stunned by the outburst. But it clicks; he means an actual fucken clown. He tried not to laugh as Dean let out a defeated sigh. “Sorry. I just thought…I just thought I finally found someone. You know? I’m 30. I should have found someone already.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. But I’m sure you will. You’ll find someone special who won’t honk their nose at you.” Cas bops Dean’s nose, it’s awkward, but Dean still chuckles when he pushes Cas’s hand away.

The atmosphere around them was warm and comforting, something he wishes to drown in. But in a respectable boss-and-employee-who-lives-with-him kind of way. The smile they share fades a little as they look away, and then Dean jumps off the counter with a yawn.

“I’m gonna head to bed now. Goodnight, Mr. Novak.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Winchester.”

And just like that, they are back to professionals.

The following day, Dean is in the room talking to Sam about his dating life.

“You just think the perfect person is gonna knock at your door yelling out ‘there you are! I found you!’”

“Oh, there you are.” Cas walks in, neither Sam nor Dean notices the coincidence, holding out two different ties. “What tie should I wear? Blue or yellow?”

“Blue. Goes great with your eyes.” Dean turns around to tie the tie nicely around Cas’s neck. Sam gave them no attention as it was an action that happens regularly.

When he was done, he fixes Cas’s collar and pats his shoulder before telling him he looks good.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester.”

Cas walks out of the room while Dean continues to get ready as he talks. “I just want a person who actually respects and values my opinions, not just my pretty face.”

“Ah, sorry to bother you again, Mr. Winchester,” Cas walks back in. “but I do value your opinion. Should I wear the gold cufflinks or the silver?”

“Gold is a classic. But make sure it’s those nice ones Claire picked out for you. She’ll love to see them.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you! That would be great.” Cas walks out of the room with a grateful smile.

Sam is still flipping through Dean’s magazine collection as he sighs, “Yeah, Dean, that’s never going to happen. You should have just dated the damn clown,”

“And what? Never see you again cause you’ll be scared my boyfriend is in full makeup? No, thank you. Now let’s go before we’re late to the damn game.”

[alpalpym]

Keep me calm chapter 1

A/N: Mentions of violence, hints at anxiety and anger issues. Don’t interact if you’re not 18+

Description: You're a mutant running away from your second family, the X-men. You meet Natasha under not-so-great circumstances, but she'll prove herself to be trustworthy.

(Cross posted on AO3. Check link in bio!)

  You were absolutely furious as you gave the legs of the interrogation table another kick, chuckling as it creaked and heaved under strain. 

Anger wasn't unusual for you, a trait Professor X had despised. But he had never liked you to begin with.

It felt like hours since the guards put her in here, and with nothing to do, you had resorted to wrecking the place. Hopefully, someone would come in and tell you to stop; you were desperate for some interaction at this point. With your constant kicking and trashing, the special cuffs around your wrists had started to chafe the sensitive skin underneath. You bit back a wince as you shouted at the top of your lungs. 

"Can somebody tell me what the hell I'm doing here, for god's sake!" Huffing when you got no reply, you kicked the table again, sending it hurling into the opposite wall. 

"Can you stop breaking our furniture," a feminine voice grumbled. 

You gasped at the approaching woman. A true sight for sore eyes with her lush red curly hair and an incredibly tight tactical suit. How were you supposed to keep a straight face with that?

You were an observant girl, quickly noticing minor cuts and some dried up blood coating the woman's pale skin, but you kept quiet as she suddenly came very close. Her hands came to rest at either side of your chair, effectively caging you in before she spoke in a low tone. 

"You need to behave while I'm in here."

You snorted. As if you'd follow up on that demand after being plucked off the streets and locked away. Although, you couldn't deny that the red-head ordering you around left you feeling all fluttery inside. 

"Your name is (y/n), current resident at the Xavier institute here in New York," she sighed, "you have quite the record on you kid."

"I'm not a kid," you spat.

The woman just quirked her brow before resuming. "You can call me Natash—."

"I know who you are."

"You need to stop interrupting me." 

Another command. Your ears were burning, and your skin felt itchy at the tone of Natasha's voice. You've never been this susceptible to a single person in your life, not your parents, not the people from CPS, and especially not Professor X. You fidgeted with the fabric of your jeans, trying to ground yourself from the haze falling over you. “Probably the lack of food,” you thought.

"You left your parental house at thirteen, only having been taken in by CPS three years later. What happened within that time?" Natasha had an aura around her that seemed to command respect, and all without ever raising her voice. You appreciated that about her.

"I just roamed around," you mumbled, wanting to steer the woman away from the topic.

Natasha nodded, scribbling down in a small notebook before her green eyes pierced straight through you again. "And how did Xavier track you down? 

You clenched your jaw, the memory a painful one as you tried to recall what had happened to you. All you could remember were snippets, like Professor X's hard eyes as he sat across from you at his desk. Then another image of you strapped on a hospital bed as a sharp needle pierced your neck before pain blinded your vision.

"I don't know." 

"You're not giving me enough info here, kid."

You were racking your brain. For something, anything, to give Natasha just so she would back off. But as much as you tried, there were no memories of exactly how Professor X had gotten to you. Just a ton of feelings, the intensity of it all making you feel like you were going to throw up.

You were hot, the room sweltering. You doubled over, hands still cuffed as you fought against the wave of nausea hitting the back of your throat. Banging your still cuffed hands against the tabletop, you let out a low whine.

"Nat—" You couldn't speak. Why was your throat so tight? It was all so hard. You leaned back against your seat, trying to keep your racing heart under control.

The woman quickly got to your side, her hands hovering over yours hesitantly.

"I don't know anything. Please don't make me talk. Please, please," you cried. Pressing your forehead against a warm shoulder, the fabric underneath you dampened with tears making you want to pull away. But Natasha was soft, so soft, as she gently guided you closer against her. Unbothered by your sudden vulnerability. Natasha didn't mind; you were sure of it. 

Loud banging against the door quickly pulled Natasha off you in an instant, and you whined a pathetic whine from the back of your throat in objection.

"What's this Romanoff? We said interrogate, not cuddle!" 

A slightly balding man with crooked eyes and an off-putting smile stood at the threshold. His arms were spread, holding either side of the door frame as he nonchalantly swayed back and forth on his feet.

"Shut it, Coulson."

At least Natasha was sticking up for you. But the sudden intrusion cleared your head enough for you to realize how much you'd slipped with the woman. How vulnerable you'd been. Weak.

You pushed the red-head off of you, surprising her as she looked at you in bewilderment. "I refuse to speak to any more of you. Let me go."

It was perfectly within your right; you knew that much. Not even Shield had the jurisdiction to force you into talking. And you wanted to leave. Right now.

"We can't exactly do that," Coulson said. He stalked further into the room, the authority practically beaming off of him as he planted himself sideways on the edge of the table. "Listen up, kiddo."

"Stop calling me that!" You were growing sick and tired of people looking down at you like some child. You were better than that. 

"I'll call whatever I want. Five children are missing, and you have something to do with it now talk."

"No!" A quick burst of energy, followed by absolute emptiness, coursed through your body before you were suddenly on the other side of the room. Both Coulson and Natasha were looking at you, utterly baffled that you were able to use your powers despite the cuffs. With Natasha trying to reach out for you and Coulsen undoubtedly calling for backup, you were cornered. 

One swift kick was all it took to drive the man backward against the wall. A sickening crunch indicating that you've definitely broken his hand. There was no way back now, no more playing nice. You made a move to turn around, but your still cuffed hands were now held in a firm grip by Natasha. The woman pushed you roughly to the ground and caged you in with her thighs around your hips.

"Don't make me do this (y/n)," Natasha panted against the side of your neck. She was straining to keep you down, and you felt a warmth akin to pride spreading from your chest at the thought.

Natasha's hand came up to grab the curvature of your neck before applying pressure. It didn't take long at all for you to lose consciousness. Maybe it was the stress. Perhaps you just lacked the strength to fight back against the black widow. But you were soon out like a light.

~

You didn't dream, but you woke up in bed with a racing heart and a fuzzy head. Soft sheets pooled at your waist as you sat up. Your hands were still cuffed, but you were wearing different clothes. How long had you been out?

"Goodmorning." 

Natasha was sat in a plastic chair, her back slumped and looking like hell. It was strange to see the woman like that after she'd been so poised earlier, and you wondered how long she'd been in here with you. 

"Where did you take me?"

Natasha sighed. The woman let her head fall into her hands, gripping her hair at the root. "You're safe here (y/n)."

"You really believe I'm going to buy into that crap? You laughed. The nerve of this woman was uncanny. "You choked me, Natasha."

"I didn't mean to. Just trust me, please." Natasha eyed you unsurely before moving her chair closer to the bed, putting a hand just above your knee. "How are your wrists," she nodded to your lap.

You frowned. But as you looked down, you saw that the skin underneath your cuffs was red and raw. Natasha moved to hold your wrists in her hands, but you quickly pulled them out of her reach. There was a heat in your chest, spreading like wildfire, and you banged your hands against the wall beside you in frustration. "Stop touching me," you hissed. 

As Natasha made another move to take your hand, you harshly shoved your cuffed hands against her. Shock flashed through Natasha's pretty green eyes, but it was quickly replaced by their usual blank look. She gripped your upper arm tightly, fingers digging into the soft skin. "You can't lose your temper around me (y/n)," she said viciously, "be good for me."

Natasha firmly pressed you down against the bed by your arm, her grasp on you still tight and painful. You wildly trashed against her, roughly shoving your body against hers as hard as possible. Everything about Natasha irked you right now. Her commandeering voice, the strength with which she was able to hold you down with ease. But most of all, her unnecessary kindness. 

Aside from her slightly unethical method of knocking you out, Natasha had shown she wanted what was best for you. You'd never admit it, but Shield taking you in had scared the living hell out of you, and Natasha had handled you with such gentleness it made your heart ache with anger and confusion. 

Natasha shifted to pin you down against the mattress, her shoulder pressed against the side of your face. 

"You're just using me," you panted against her shoulder. "Why are you doing this? Just let me go!"

Pressing her forehead against your temple, Natasha quietly shushed you, softly stroking your head. "Calm down for me Малы́шка."

Natasha's arms snaked around you, keeping you in a firm hold. And while you continued to struggle against her for a bit, you gradually started feeling the anger seep out of you. You had to admit it felt nice to have the red-head so close to you, the comfortable heaviness of her body against yours made your chest feel a lot lighter. "Witchcraft," you thought humorously.

Natasha let out a hum of content—of approval— and tightened her hold on you the tiniest bit, making your eyes fall closed again.

Translation: Малы́шка = baby girl

[satanfemme]

"I've met God across his long walnut desk with his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him, and God asks me, 'Why?' Why did I cause so much pain? Didn't I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness? Can't I see how we're all manifestations of love? I look at God behind his desk, taking notes on a pad, but God's got this all wrong. We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are."

Fight Club (1996), Chuck Palahniuk