#EVERYTHING IS SUBJECTIVE DIPSHIT!!!

[blushft]

flashback to when my STUPID ex told me to change one of my characters EYE COLORS because it didn't "fit the color palette"

[therainbowwillow]

This Somerton situation might just be exactly what I needed to pull myself out of my recent writing slump. I might feel like everything I write is hot garbage right now, but at least I wrote it.

Those words came from me. My fingers typed them and my brain came up with them. Whether or not they’re perfect is beside the point! When you start looking, you quickly realize that nobody’s writing is perfect, “perfect” is a lie because art is subjective, and there are (ex-)popular dipshits on the Internet who don’t even write their own videos. So… my writing might not be exactly what I want, but I claim it as my own and I know I’m not lying about that.

[thagomizersshow]

Ranting about how JP is not a good critique of capitalism made me want to talk about a sci-fi monster movie that is an excellent AND highly relevant exploration of anticapitalistic themes: Alien (1979).

First I want to say that if you haven’t seen Alien, please do so before I spoil it for you. It’s not just one of my all time favourites, but also one of the greatest pieces of science fiction ever created. For real, please go watch it.

The biological aspects of Alien are often the most talked about themes in the movie, which is fair, because they’re simultaneously very interesting and in-your-face. Most viewers remember the movie for the gory sexual imagery, not for an authentic depiction of class struggle. I actually wrote a video essay a while back that I never made about how our innate disgust and resulting fear of parasites/parasitoids is the primary driver behind the xenomorph’s ongoing popularity. I’m not immune to this aspect of Alien’s eternal intrigue, that’s for sure.

However, there’s one narrative element that makes Alien ripe for class analysis, especially today, and that is the film’s portrayal of artificial intelligence.

AI in Alien is consistently shown to be hostile to the crew, but not because of a glitch, like HAL in 2001: Space Odyssey, or because they decide to rise up against their oppressors, like in Terminator. No, what makes Ash, the android, and MOTHER, the ship’s AI, so threatening is that they are doing exactly what they were programmed to do — whatever it takes to ensure corporate interests. In this case, they are programmed to ensure the survival of an extraterrestrial monster at the cost of the crew.

The audience isn’t privy to all the things that Ash does to meet this goal, but at the very least he breaks quarantine protocols, does a shitty job of watching the facehugger, lets Kane join the rest of the crew for a meal (when they still don’t know what it did to him!), plays dumb once the xenomorph is on the loose, and attempts to murder Ripley when she discovers his mandate. If it weren’t for Ripley being a determined badass, Ash might’ve gone unnoticed until the whole crew was dead and the Weyland-Yutani Corporation had their mitts on the alien so they can cause another catastrophe.

This horror, that you will encounter AI whose programming doesn’t care if you live or die, is what makes Alien’s take on the subject so relevant. Dipshits like Elon Musk or some shitty tech journalist might try and convince us that ChatGBT scary because it can fake being human, as if Skynet is right around the corner.

No, the real horror of AI is that the people in power (our bosses, our politicians, etc.) are going to use it to exploit us, just like how they use everything else.

In the end, it takes being skeptical of things that seem trustworthy for Ripley to defeat Ash. The audience finds out from the Nostromo’s captain, Dallas, that Ash was a last minute addition to the crew, as chief science officer. This is a role that inherently engenders trustworthiness in the face of the unknown, especially for a crew that is basically a bunch of working joes. It’s not unbelievable to conceive this was purposeful by Weyland-Yutani to make Ash above suspicion. That, combined with literally naming the ship’s AI MOTHER, of all things, shows that the company is deliberately weaponizing aesthetics to foster a positive relationship between the crew and their AI agents.

Alien serves as a reminder to be vigilant as we enter the AI boom, because these programs will be used to exploit us, and corporations WILL try to cloak this purpose behind relatability, convenience, and trust. The AI we encounter is more likely to be Ash or MOTHER than it is to be Data or Skynet.

[majimemegoro]

Kamurocho dashboard simulator

🏵 tojoc0re Follow

nishiki was 27 years old???

🏵 tojoc0re Follow

he shouldnt have been made a patriarch the dragon of dojima would of been better at it :/

( 420 notes )

📸 daily-mac-photos Follow

#kamurocho #tokyo #tenkaichi street #japan landscapes #photographers of japan #travel #cyberpunk #not as zesty as my usual subject matter but #lmao pls reblog this i almost got beat up by color gang members taking this photo

( 79 notes )

🦢 chinpiraposting Follow

my hungry ass can't be left alone with staminam x i suck those bad boys down like juice

( 9,839 notes )

🚲 wackycyclist Follow

.

#the entitlement i see on this site sometimes is disgusting #y'all will just post about having easy access to bicycles??? #some of us had our bicycles wrecked in fights??? #vent #do not rb

( 3 notes )

🗡 koinodiscoqueen Follow

CALLOUT FOR SHIMANO FUTOSHI

I've talked a lot about this already on this blog, but I want to have everything collected in one post so next time some dipshit with a hannya hand icon slides into my inbox to call me a liar I can just link to this post. tl;dr shimano futoshi made my cousin feel realy unsafe while she was shaving his head, and here are the receipts:

Keep reading

( 38 notes )

🚡 matsushigeboss-deactivated30190547

fr we need to stop letting twunks be in charge of anything

( 3 notes )

🍜 i<3kazama Follow

i stg if one more of you tells me the old yakuza way is dying I KNOW ALREADY shut UP

#feel like pure shit just want cold noodles

( 1,930 notes )

📖 kamuroscamwatch Follow

today's scam: Aha water (again)

Was walking down pink street when I got stopped by a barker who promised that all my problems could be solved..., long story short, anyone remember Aha water from the 80s? Well, they rebranded as AHA water (subtle, I know) and they''re back at it. I stalked the people who make it and they literally collected puddle water from the champion district to put in the concoction. I didn't really feel well after drinking it, but the overall experience was good because they totally tapped into that nostalgia. Overall a really solid scam. Stay safe out there kamurocho.

4/5 stars

#scamblr #aha water #1980s #scams #scam rating #safety #scam review

( 12 notes )

👺 hannya69 Follow

batting center is a normal place to get nastay in reblog if u agree

( 58,274 notes )

🚗 thepocketcricuitfighter Follow

Does anyone here still play pocket circuit? :)

( 0 notes )

📈 reglarsalaryman Follow

wtf this guy just ripped off his shirt in the street and started whaling on some guys?? everyone else started clapping and cheering and I just went along with it lmao 😅 am I missing something????

#this is right after he sang a song and saved a couple from jumping off a building #he was glowing too.... #average night in kamurocho

( 85 notes )

🐛 majimaunderlingbaddiebracket Follow

ULTIMATE HOTTEST MAJIMA UNDERLING BADDIE TOURNAMENT FINALS!!!!

🔘 shinji-deactivated30190303

here y'all go again pitting two bad bitches against each other

🌀 jingusforehead Follow

🌊 thugbaby Follow

everyone who voted minami is an arson apologist #nishidasweep

( 4,271 notes )

🔥 businessboi Follow

fuck my job so much. everyone manifest an attack on millennium tower so I can go home.

🔥 businessboi Follow

by talos this can't be happening

( 38,386 notes )

[dianawinchester03]

Season 1, Episode 16 - Shadow

Series Masterlist

Third Person POV

Chicago, Illinois

The boys and Y/N pull up in the Impala, infront of an apartment building where a young woman was brutally killed in her apartments. The three hunters are disgusted as blue collar workers this round, posing as employees for the 'PF Alarm System'. Dean gets out of the car and goes to the trunk to take out his 'equipment'. While Sam is in the backseat with a newspaper, the headline being

"Manhunt continues for Stealth Killer. Second murder in two months" with a picture of the young woman who was killed. "Alright, Dean. This is the place" Sam says to his brother as he and Y/N get out of the car. "You know, I gotta say. Dad and me did just fine without these stupid costumes. I feel like a highschool drama dork" Dean complains.

Sam scoffs. Him and Y/N chuckle, reminiscing about their highschool drama days. "What was that play you two did? That- What was it? Our Town" Dean says chuckling at the memories. "Yeah. You two were good. It was cute" He laughs, winking at Y/N and she rolls her eyes. "I was adorable" She says sassily, flipping her hair.

Dean smiles at her playfulness, his heart skipping a beat. "I only did it because Y/N forced me" Sam defends. "Oh can it dipshit, you know damn well you enjoyed it. And you were ready to tackle Andrew Milkovich for the lead" She retorts snickering, Dean laughs as Sam looks down, chuckling at the memories.

"And I nailed it" He retorts, his voice going up an octave at the 'nailed it', snapping his fingers. The trio share a laugh as they walk to the building. "Look, Dean. You wanna pull this off, or not?" Sam goes back to the subject of the costumes. "I'm just saying these outfits cost hard earned money, okay?" Dean defends.

"Whose?" Y/N scoffs. "Ours. You think credit card frauds easy?" Dean smirks. Y/N nudges him jokingly, making him chuckle as Sam shakes his head in amusement.

"Thanks for letting us look around" Sam says to the building manager who let them in. "Well, police said they were done with the place, so..." The manager says. They all walk into the room where Meredith, the young woman who was killed, was found in dead. Blood stains on the white carpet in an unusual pattern.

"You guys said you're with the alarm company?" The manager asks them. "That's right maam" Y/N nods. "Well no offense. But your alarms are about as useful as boobs on a man" The woman says brutally honest. Y/N holds back a snicker at the delivery of the comment and the three hunters share a look.

"Well, that's why we're here. See what went wrong, stop it from happening again" Dean assures her, taking a step forward to investigate. "Now ma'am, you found the body?" Sam asks her and she nods. "Yeah" She responds. "Right after it happened?" Y/N asks.

"No. Few days later. Meredith's work called, she hadn't showed up. I knocked on the door. That's when I noticed the smell" The woman explains as the three canvass the room. "Any windows open? Any sign of break in?" Dean asks her. "No, windows were locked. Front door was bolted. Chain was on the door. We had to cut it just to get in" She further explains.

"Like I said, bang up job your company's doing" She scoffs sarcastically. "Mhm" Dean responds. "You see any over turned furniture? Broken glass? Struggle?" Y/N asks but the woman shakes her head. "Everything was in perfect condition" She says, sighing. "Except Meredith" She says and this catches their attention.

"And what condition was Meredith in?" Sam asks. "Meredith was all over. In pieces" The woman says, pointing to the blood all over. "The guy who killed her must've been some kind of a wack job" The woman says a bit disgusted. "But I'll tell you, if I didn't know any better, I'd have said a wild animal did it" The woman says honestly.

Dean who was stooping to the ground, looks over at Y/N and Sam looks over at them. "Ma'am, would you mind if we take some time, give this place a once over?" Y/N asks her sweetly. "Go right ahead. Knock yourself out" The woman nods kindly before leaving. The three get to work instantly, Dean opens his tool box with his EMF meter, unwrapping it from the cloth, powering it on as he talks.

"So the killer walks in and out of the apartment. No weapons, no prints, nothing" Dean says. "I'm telling you, the minute I found that article. I knew it was our kind of gig" Sam says to them. The EMF meter goes nuts, "I think I agree with you" Y/N says. "You say you talk to the cops?" She asks Dean.

"Uh, yeah. Spoke to Amy, a sweet, perky officer of the law" Dean says smugly, moving around the room with the meter as Sam and Y/N go to the other side with their EMF meters. Y/N rolls her eye at his tone. "Yeah, what'd you find out?" Sam asks him. "Well? She's a Sagittarius. She loves tequila...I mean. Oh and she's got this little tattoo right-"

"Dean!" Sam and Y/N angrily cut him off in unison because he's getting carried away talking about his hookup. "What? Yeah. Uh, nothing we don't already know" He snaps out of his daze, turning around guiltily. "Except for one thing they're keeping out of the papers" He adds. "What?" Y/N asks. "Meredith's heart was missing" He tells them and they turn around shocked.

"Her heart?" Sam asks confused. "Yeah, her heart" Dean confirms. "So what do you think did it to her?" Y/N asks them. "The landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe it was. Werewolf?" Dean suggests but Y/N shakes her head. "No, not a werewolf. The lunar cycles not right" She informs them.

"Plus, if it was a creature, it would've left some kind of trace" Sam adds. "So whatre you thinking? Spirit?" Y/N suggests to Sam as Dean looks at the blood stains on the white carpet intensely. It's almost in dots all round. "Maybe" Sam shrugs. "See if you can find any masking tape around" He tells them and they do just that.

Dean takes the masking tape, using it to basically connect the dots on the carpet. Sam and Y/N looks on at the symbol Dean connected using the tape. "Ever seen that symbol before? Cuz I haven't" Sam asks. "Never" Dean says. "Me neither" Y/N adds.

________________________________

Y/N's POV

I'm is currently sitting at a table in a bar with my laptop, researching for any possible hit on the symbol Dean conjured up. Sam went to use the bathroom and Dean is currently chatting up a cute bartending that's flashing him her tits. Not shame it in, I've done it many times to get my way. Though I'd prefer her not flash it at Dean.

I've given up on denying my feelings for Dean. I'll admit, I have a crush on him. Fuck, I really like him. And it breaks my heart to know he'll never see me like that. Sure we have our flirty banter, but that's just how Dean is. A flirtatious charming man. Seeing him get tortured by those psycho hillbillies really opened up my eyes.

It freaking hurt like hell to see him get tortured, it felt like my heart was getting ripped out of my chest and stomped on by Andre the Giant. I gotta sort my feelings out and figure out a way to not let my stupid crush get in the way of hunting with the boys dammit.

At the corner of my eye, I see Sam come back from the bathroom, taking a seat across from me. He opens up the newspaper clippings of Meredith's article of her murder. "Got anything, y/n/n?" He asks me. "I got zilch" I shake my head sighing, looking up from my laptop. My gaze settles on Dean flirting with the bartender, my jaw clenching at the sight as I narrow my eyes at them.

Relax Y/N, he's not your boyfriend nor will he ever be. I remind myself, gripping my beer bottle. "Did you hear me?" Sams voice snaps me out of my trance and I stare back at him confused. "Huh? Uh, yeah....you were talking about that thing" I respond lamely and Sam give me a look that says, 'that's bullshit'.

He looks back at the bar in the direction my gaze was, at the bar where Dean is flirting with the waitress, and turns back to me with a sly smile on his face. "You two are too stubborn for your own good" He tells me, snickering as I sip on my beer. "What the hell are you talking about?" I ask in confusion. "Nothing" He says smugly, giving me a knowing look and I cock my eyebrow at this. Boys, I sigh.

Dean then comes up to the table and sits next to me, "Talked to the bartender" He tells us. "You get anything? Besides her number" Sam says in a dry tone, not looking up from his article. "Guys, I'm a professional. I'm offended that you would think that" Dean says in mock offense, both me and Sam give him a almost exact replica of Sam's classic bitch face saying, "Bullshit" I say in a singsong tone, sipping my beer

"Alright" He grins cheekily, holding up a napkin with a number on it. Me and Sam shake our heads. "You mind doing a little thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?" Sam scoffs annoyed. "Huh? There's nothing to find out. Meredith worked here. She waited tables. Everyone here is her friends. They say she's normal. She didn't do or say anything weird before she died. So..." Dean lists off defensively.

"What about that symbol. You got anything on it, Princess?" He asks me and I shake my head. "Nope. Nothing, it wasn't even in your dads journals or any of the usual books" I tell him. "So we'll just have to dig a little deeper. I guess" Sam says looking around as Dean looks at the bartenders number and smiles.

"Well, there was a first victim right? Before Meredith?" Dean asks us. "Right, yeah. Uh, his name was...uh...his name was Ben Swardstrom" Sam tells us, pulling out the news paper clipping of his article, handing it to Dean. "Last month he was found mutilated in his town house. Same deal, the door was locked, the alarm was on" I explain to him. "Is there any connection between the two of them?" He asks.

"Nothing we can tell. I mean, not yet. At least. Ben was a banker. Meredith was a waitress. They never met, never knew anyone in common. They were practically from different worlds" Sam says. "So, the recap. The only successful intel we've scored so far is the bartenders phone number" Dean says sarcastically with a smile and I roll my eyes.

"Why don't you do the research huh hotshot, might be stuck on this case by time we're ready to be put in a nursing home if you're the one hitting the books" I tease jokingly and he scoffs in mock offense. "Oh ha ha, very funny. Not all of us are nerds, y/n" He retorts with a wink and I chuckle. We notice Sam looking intently behind Dean and turn back simultaneously to see what he's looking at. "What?" Dean asks Sam.

Sam then gets up and walks away from the table. "Sam?" I call out to him but he approaches a young beautiful blonde short haired girl. "What was that about?" Dean asks confused. "Let's go find out" I say shrugging, finishing my beer. I get up and Dean follows behind. "What about you, Meg? I thought you were going to California" Sam says to the girl, who's name seems to be Meg.

The second we approached her, something about that girl's presence was off. Just the sight of her irritated me, I don't know why but I already don't like her. I could feel a heat rising in my body just looking at her. "Oh, I did. I came. I saw. I conquered. Oh and I met what's his name, something Michael Murray at a bar" She tells Sam proudly, Dean and I look at each other confused at this.

"Who?" Sam asks confused. "It doesn't matter. Anyways the whole scene got old. So I'm living here now" Meg tells him flirtatiously. I notice Dean looking at her up and down and I roll my eyes. I swear this man only thinks with his dick. Dean then clears his throat. "You're from Chicago?" Sam asks her. "No. Massachusetts. Andover" She responds.

"Gosh, Sam, what are the odds we'd run into each other" She said excitedly. "Yeah, I know. I thought I'd never see you again" Sam says with a smile. "Well, I'm glad you were wrong" She responds coyly and I cock my eyebrow at this. Oh she's into Sam, damnnn. Dean clears his throat again, "Dude. Cover your mouth" Meg snaps a bit annoyed and I snicker lightly.

Dean is taken back by this and Sam turns to look at us. "Yeah, I'm sorry. Meg. This is...um.." Sam starts to introduce us and chuckles. "This is my brother, Dean. And my best friend, Y/N" Sam says. "This is Dean and Y/N?" Meg asks him shocked. "Yeah" Sam responds. A smug smile rises on Deans face "So you've heard of me" He says cockily.

"Oh yeah, I've heard of you. Nice the way you treat your brother like luggage" She snaps and we're both taken back by this. "Sorry?" I add confused. "Why don't you let him do what he wants to do. Stop dragging him over God's green earth. Sounds like his best friend is more supportive than his own brother" She scoffs. "Meg, it's alright" Sam says lowly and she calms down.

Dean then whistles and coughs lightly, "Okay, awkward" I say, me and Dean chuckling awkwardly. "Let's go get a drink, huh Dean?" I say, grabbing Deans arm and dragging him to the bar. Dean gives Sam a confused look before walking behind me. The bitch is lucky I didn't clock her, something about her I didn't like. I can't pinpoint it, she just gave me a bad vibe.

"What a bitch" I scoff, ordering two beers. "The fuck was that about?" Dean says confused as I pay the bartender and take up the beers. "I got no clue, but here" I hand him a beer, "To God's green earth" I put my beer up in a cheer-sing manner, trying to ease the situation and he smiles chuckling. "To God's green earth" He laughs, clicking his bottle with mine before taking a sip along with me.

________________________________

After having our beers, Sam finished up his conversation with Meg and we're now all walking out of the bar. "Who the hell was she?" Dean asks him. "I don't really know. I only met her once" Sam tells us. "Meeting up with her again....I don't know, man, it's weird" Sam says. "Well, what was she saying? Huh? That I treat you like luggage? What, were you bitching about me to some chick" Dean asks annoyed.

"Look, I'm sorry, Dean. It was when we had that huge fight, when I was in that bus stop in Indiana." Sam apologizes. "But that's not important. Just listen-" Sam tries to talk hit Dean cuts him off. "Well, is there any truth to what she's saying? Am I keeping you keeping you will, Sam?" Dean argues. I roll my eyes and give up on keeping quiet.

I step infront of the both of them, "Dude, chill out. Sam was angry and you were angry. You both said shit you didn't mean. I'm pretty sure he doesn't think that, right Sammy?" I turn to Sam and he nods. "Good, so ease this argument, you two sound like an old married couple" I joke and they both laugh. "Thanks y/n. Now would you listen to me?" Sam asks him calmly. "Yeah go on" Dean responds.

"I think there's something strange going on here, Dean" Sam says. "Yeah, tell me about it. She wasn't even that into me" Dean says smugly and I shake my head. "Lord" I groan and he snickers. "No, man. I mean like our kind of strange. Like maybe even a lead" Sam says a bit annoyed. "Why do you say that?" I ask Sam.

"I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. Now I run into her in some random Chicago bar. I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural. You don't think that's a little weird?" Sam continues but Dean shrugs. "I don't know, random coincidence, it happens" Dean says.

"I don't know man, the second I saw that chick. The second I was in her presence, something was weird about her. Instantly I didn't like her and I don't know why" I agree with Sam. "That doesn't count. You don't like anyone in general" Dean retorts and I laugh. "Shut up but fair point" I snap back as he smirks.

"I get it. Coincidences do happen. But not to us" Sam tries to reason. "Look I could be wrong, I'm just saying that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on" He adds. A smirk rises to Deans face when he says this, "But I bet you'd like to" Dean counters and I roll my eyes at his perverse comment.

Sam turns away holding back a laugh. "Maybe she's not a suspect. Maybe you've got a thing for here, huh? Maybe you're thinking a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?" Dean pokes fun at Sam, pointing to his head, looking at his crotch and back up at him. A smirk playing on his face as he raises his eyebrows suggestively. "Christ I need new friends" I mutter to myself, shaking my head, laughing.

"Anyways, Y/N" Sam turns to me, an exasperated look on his face, ignoring Deans comment, making him laugh. "Do me a favor. Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts. And see if you can dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor" Sam requests of me and I nod obliging.

"What are you gonna do" I ask him. "I'm gonna watch Meg" He says and Dean laughs, "Yeah, you are!" He exclaims proudly. "I just wanna see what's what. Better safe than sorry" Sam says defensively. "Alright you little pervert" Dean snickers, making me chuckle. "Dude!" Sam says annoyed. "We're going, come on stud. Let's go" I grab Deans arm, pulling him across the street to the motel.

________________________________

Third Person POV

Later, Y/N and Dean are at the motel. He's on the laptop looking into Meg Masters and Y/N is by the window smoking a cigarette after finishing her search of the symbol, finding its origin. "Yahtzee" He exclaims as she takes a drag. "Found her?" She asks him as he takes up his phone. "Yep" He responds, dialing in Sams number.

A few seconds later, "Hey" Sam answers, currently outside of Megs apartment in the Impala. "Let me guess, you're lurking outside of that poor girls apartment, aren't you" Dean calls his brother out on his whereabouts and Y/N snickers, shaking her head. "No....Yes" Sam tries to cover it up but Deans silence makes him confess.

"You got a funny way of showing your affection" Dean teases. "Says you, Mr. I'm In Love With Y/N But Won't Admit It" Sam counters, a smirk on his face. Deans face drops, his heart beating out of his chest. He's too speechless to answer and just clears his throat. "That's what I thought" Sam laughs. "What's he saying?" Y/N asks Dean curiously from across the room after seeing Deans face drop.

Dean just shakes his head, "Nothing important" He tells her quickly, she cocks her eyebrow at his sudden change in tone but ignores it, taking a drag from her cigarette. "You found anything on her or what?" Sam changes the subject. "Sorry man. She checks out. There's a Meg Masters in the Andover phone book. I even pulled up her high school photo" Dean informs him, going back to mocking his brother.

"Now, why don't you go knock on her door and uh invite her to a poetry reading or whatever it is you do, huh?" Dean says smugly, Y/N huffs a chuckle at his tone. Sam shakes his head ignoring his comment. "What about the symbol? Any luck?" Sam asks him. "Yeah. And we did have some luck with that. Y/N found out it's Zoroastrian. Very, very old school. Like 2000 years before Christ. It's a sigil for a Daeva" Dean explains.

"What's a Daeva?" Sam asks in confusion. "Translates to 'demon of darkness'. Zoroastrian demons. And they're savage, animalistic. You know? Nasty attitudes, kind of like demonic pitbull" Dean further explains. "How'd you figure that out?" Sam asks almost impressed. "Give me some credit, man. You and Y/N aren't the only ones paper chasing around here" Dean says smugly, flashing Y/N a wink and she huffs a laugh.

"Bullshit! I'm the one that found it Sam!" She yells from across the room, dusting the ash in the tray. "Oh can it, Princess. I can paper chase too" He huffs jokingly. "Oh yeah? Name the last book you've read" Y/N counters but Dean can't answer. Sam is currently laughing his head off on the other line at their commentary. "Alright, Y/N found it" Dean admits. "Yeah, no kidding" He laughs.

"Alright, heres the thing. These Daevas, they have to be summoned, conjured." Dean informs him. "So someone's controlling it" Sam says. "Yeah, that's what we're saying. And from what she gathered, it's pretty risky business too. These suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them. And the arms and the torsos" Dean responds.

"So what do they look like?" Sam asks. "Well, nobody knows. I mean nobody's seen them for a couple of millennia." He informs Sam. "Summoning a demon that ancient. Someone really knows their stuff. I think we got a major player in town" Dean says. Sam sighs at the thought. "Now why don't you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram" Dean teases Sam again.

Y/N chuckles, taking a drag of her cigarette as she shakes her head. "Bite me" Sam retorts dryly. "Bite her. Don't leave teeth marks. Just enough to where-" Dean counters but Sam cuts the phone off mid sentence, annoyed with his brother. "Sam? You-" Dean chuckles, flipping the phone shut. "You love to annoy that kid I swear" Y/N laughs. "It's what siblings are for. Plus, I gotta teach him how to pick women up" He winks at her.

"Yeah, and look where that got you" She snorts. "I got that bartenders number" He says smugly and she rolls her eyes. "I would've gotten it in lesser time" She challenges. His eyes brows raise at her challenge, "Oh yeah? You think you can flirt better than me?" He smirks. "You know damn well I can" She retorts. "I think you're gonna have to remind me. Come on, Princess, show me what you got" He leans back in his chair.

She narrows her eyes at him while taking a drag of her cigarette, contemplating whether or not to accept his challenge. She crushes the burnt out cigarette in the ashtray, not breaking eye contact with him. Deans smirk doesn't falter but his heart begins to race like crazy when a seductive smile slowly appears on Y/N's face. She struts over to him, her hips swaying as if she were a runway model.

"I was wondering if you're an artist, because you were so good at drawing me in with those eyes" She says in a sultry tone. Deans chest begins to heave when Y/N rests both her hands on the sides of his chair, the corner of her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Her eyebrows then scrunch together as if she's confused.

"I think there's something in them..." She says lowly, placing her right hand gently on the left side of his cheek. All efforts of Dean playing cool is thrown out the window when she does this. He winces lightly at the contact, which doesn't go unnoticed by Y/N. A smirk rises on her face and she leans to whisper ever so lightly in his right ear, her tone still alluring,

"...no wait, it just a sparkle". The moan Dean had to hold back when her lips brushed against his ear was embarrassing. Pulling away slowly, "You were saying, charming?" She teases him, acknowledging his flustered state not before flashing him a wink and getting back up to walk to the bathroom. Making sure to add an extra sway to her hips.

Dean's POV

I don't allow my smirk to leave my face when she narrows her eyes at me while taking a drag of her cigarette. She then outs the cigarette in the ashtray, blowing the smoke out the window. She doesn't break eye contact with me though I keep my game face on but my heart begins to race like crazy when a seductive smile takes over her face, a siren-like look in her eyes. I'm beginning to feel as though a whole damn zoo appeared in my stomach.

Her hips sway as she walks towards me. Holy fuck, it drives me crazy when she does that. "I was wondering if you're an artist, because you were so good at drawing me in with those eyes" She says in a sultry tone. My chest begins to heave when Y/N rests both her hands on the sides of my chair, the corner of her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

Her eyebrows then scrunch together in that cute way she unconsciously does it whenever she's focusing on something or is confused. "I think there's something in them..." She says lowly, placing her right hand gently on the left side of my cheek. The wince that left my throat was involuntarily and I try to play it off by pretending to clear my throat. But a smirk rises on her face, so I'm pretty sure she noticed it.

She leans, her lips brushing lightly against my right ear, her tone still alluring, "...no wait, it just a sparkle". The moan I had to hold back was embarrassing. It took all the power in me not to pull her onto my lap and kiss her like a starving man. She pulls away slowly, her faces inches away from mine. "You were saying, charming?" She teases me, acknowledging my flustered state not before flashing me a wink and getting back up to walk to the bathroom.

Making sure to add an extra sway to her hips. The blush that I was holding back creeps up my neck as soon as she closes the door behind her. Not a soul on this earth has made me blush before but the power this woman has over me. The effect this God given woman has on me is deadly. I'd give her the last slice of pie just to see a smile on her beautiful face. Screw this, I'm done denying my feelings for her.

I'm in love with Y/N L/N.

THERE. I said it. Oh Sammy is gonna have a field day if I ever admit that to him. I need to sort this out, because I'm sure Y/N would never feel the same way about me. Hell, her dad might kill me if he even knew I was remotely attracted to her. Sure we flirt here and there, but she's naturally a kind, friendly person. I need to sort this out so it won't get in the way of our friendship. I can't lose her. I won't.

Y/N's POV

I close the bathroom door behind me, allowing the confident facade I put on when I was flirting with Dean to wash right off of me. The blush that rose to my face was fucking explosive. I turn the pipe on by the bathroom sink and splash some water over my face to cool myself down.

I take a deep breath as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I'm used to flirting with people causally but I've never gotten so heated over an exchange. I need to get ahold of myself, dear god. I'm turning into a puddle by Dean just looking at me. The way he seemed so into it when I was flirting with him gave me a sense of hope that he might be into me too.

But if he was into me, it wouldn't be the way I'm into him, I'm sure of it. Realization dawns on me when I take in my inner monologue. Holy shit.

I'm in love with Dean Winchester.

I can't let my feelings fuck up our friendship. Or fuck up me and Sam's. I can't lose him. I won't.

After recollecting myself, I walk outside the bathroom into the room. Dean is on a phone call but he looks up at me, the phone to his ear with a slight tinge of pink on his face. I flash him a quick wink before going back to my book that I was reading earlier.

Not too long after, Sam enters the motel room in a hurry. "Dude, I gotta talk to you" We all say in unison since me and Dean had some information.

________________________________

"So hot little Meg is summoning the Daeva" Dean says in shock after Sam explained to us what he saw after following Meg. "I knew there had to be a reason I didn't like that chick" I say shaking my head. "Yeah. Looks like she was using that black altar to control the thing" Sam tells us. "So Sammy's got a thing for the bad girl" Dean teases his brother chuckling light, raising his eyebrows as Sam rolls his eyes.

"Now what's the deal with that bowl again?" I ask Sam. "She was talking into it, the way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone" Sam explains. "With who? With the Daeva?" Dean asks but Sam shakes his head. "No, you guys said those things were savages. No, this was someone different. Someone who's giving her orders. Someone...who's coming to that warehouse." Sam says.

Me and Dean share a look when he says this, going over to the table we were seated at earlier. "Holy crap" I mutter in realization, handing Dean the paper I picked up for him to look at. His reaction replicates mine, "What?" Sam asks us confused. "What were we're gonna tell you earlier. I uh, I pulled a favor with my-" He begins to say, looking at me with a twinge of guilt? Before clearing his throat and continuing.

"My friend, Amy, over at the police department. The complete records of the two victims. We missed something the first time" Dean tells him. "What?" Sam asks, coming next to me to look at the files. "The, uh, first victim, the old man, he spent his whole life in Chicago but he wasn't born here. Look where he was born" I show Sam and his face contort to one of shock.

"Lawrence, Kansas" He breathes out. "Mm-hm" Dean responds as I take out Meredith's file. "And Meredith, the second victim? Turns out she was adopted. Guess where she's from" I explain, showing him the adoption records of Meredith, underneath her name is Lawrence Kansas. Sam pulls a chair and takes a seat next to me, processing the new information.

"Holy crap" He says in shock. "Yeah" Dean says. "I mean. It is where the demon killed our moms. It's where everything started." Sam says looking at us. "So you think Megs tied up with the demon?" I ask them. "I think it's a possibility" Dean says shrugging. "But I don't understand. What's the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?" Sam says confused.

"Beats us" I say sighing. "I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg and have ourselves an interrogation" Dean says but Sam shakes his head. "No. We can't. We shouldn't tip her off. We gotta stake out that warehouse. We gotta see who...or what is showing up to meet her" Sam says as we nod agreeing.

"I'll tell you fellas one thing. I don't think we should do this alone" I say to them honestly, giving them a knowing look.

Later, Dean is trying to call his dad while I'm trying to call mine but both keep going to voicemail. "We think we got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom and Mrs. L/N. So...uh. This warehouse, it's 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can" Dean speaks into John's voicemail, flipping his phone shut.

'This is F/N L/N, I can't reach the phone right now so you can call my daughter. Y/N at (your phone number). Have a good day' BEEP.

I sigh when I hear the beep. "Daddy? It's Y/N. Um, I'm sure you're with Mr. Winchester and he's probably filled you in on what's going on up in Chicago." I say, clearing my throat as the lump starts to build up. Sam enters the motel room as I speak into the voicemail. "Uh, look. It's really important, and we could use the both of your help. Please, we need you" I plead.

When I turn around I see a look of pity on Deans face. So I clear my throat, "Okay, I hope to see you. Love you" I say quickly before hanging up. "They'll be here eventually Princess" Dean assures me and I scoff. "Yeah, sure" I say ironically. "Voicemail?" Sam asks us. "Yeah" me and Dean respond.

Sam then rests down a heavy ass bag behind us. "Jeez. What's you get?" I ask him as he groans, cracking his shoulder chuckling. "I ransacked that trunk. Holy water, every weapon that I could think of. Exorcism rituals from about half dozen religions." He lists off as he go through the bag. "I'm not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything, huh?" He says ironically.

Me and Dean share a look, biting back smiles. Dean then takes out the shotgun, I pull out the ammo, he gestures for me to throw him one. I throw one quickly, which he catches. I pull out the pistol and Sam pulls out the ammo for it, we do the same exchange me and Dean did.

"Big night, fellas" I say. "Yeah" Sam says a bit gloomy. "Nervous?" Sam asks us. "No. No. Are you two?" Dean denies but I call bullshit. "No. No way" Sam says shaking his head. "You two.." I say plainly, cocking my pistol. "...are terrible liars" I shake my head, putting the gun in the back of my pants. They shake their heads in amusement at my tone.

"It's okay to be nervous fellas. I mean, this is the thing that took our families away from us. It deserves to be put down" I say firmly and they nod. "God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon? Sam says. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, alright" Dean chuckles. "I know, I'm just saying, what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight?" Sam asks hypothetical.

"Man, I'd sleep for a month" I say humorously, chuckling lightly. "A month? I'm taking the whole damn year" Sam retorts chuckling like me. "Fuck, I'd go back to school. Be a person again" I look up at Dean when Sam said this, his mood instantly went cold. "You wanna go back to school?" Dean asks a little surprised. "Yeah, once we're done hunting the thing" Sam admits, cocking his gun.

"Huh" Dean mutters and I internally sigh. Oh boy, here we go. "Why? Is there something wrong with that?" Sam asks defensively, noticing Deans mood shift. "No. No. It's great. Good for you" Dean denies, shaking his head. "I mean. What are you two gonna do when it's all over?" Sam asks us. "It's never gonna be over" Dean says bluntly.

"There's gonna be others. There's always gonna be something to hunt" Dean says. "Buts there's gotta be something you want for yourself. Don't you want something more, Y/N?" He asks the both of us and I shrug. "Yeah I don't want you to leave the second this things over, Sam" Dean snaps, turning around and going over to the dresser.

"Dude, what's your problem?" I ask him calmly. Dean leans on the dresser, chuckling humorlessly. "Why do you think I drag you two everywhere? Huh?" He asks us rhetorically. "I mean. Why do you think I called you and asked you to come?" He turns to me, then turns to Sam. "Why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place?". A genuine look of sorrow on his face.

"Because Dad was in trouble. And now so is Mr. L/N. Because you wanted to find the thing that killed our moms" Sam answers. "Yes! That, but it's more than that, guys" He bellows, turning away from us. My heart begins to hurt because he would only do that if he was tearing up. "Dean..." I say lightly. He then turns to us, "The three of us, Dad, F/N. I mean, I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again" He says honestly, his voice cracking.

This makes my heart drop and now I feel bad because as much as I missed the boys, growing up, we didn't really have it easy with our dads. Dean took most of the heat but he's grown used to it and that just makes it worse. He didn't deserve that, none of us did. No child deserves that.

Tears start to well up in Sam's eyes, "Dean, we are a family. If do anything for you two." Sam assured him gently, our faces soften at his words. "But things will never be the way they were before" Sam adds and I could practically see Deans heart break. "Could be" He says with a sad smile. "I don't want them to be" Sam says honestly and now my heart breaks.

"I'm not gonna live this life forever" He admits tearfully. "Dean, when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me go my own way" Sam says softly but Dean doesn't respond, he just has a look of anguish in his eyes.

________________________________

Later, the boys and I go to the warehouse Sam followed Meg too and we climb up the shaft of the side of the building. Currently, Meg is inside on the highest floor, chanting Latin in-front of a black altar. Sam pulls himself up into the side opening, then Dean and I follow behind. We creep around the side slowly and quietly, while Sam and I aim our guns at her.

Her back is turnt to us, so she doesn't notice us behind her. We move quietly around the side where a bunch of wooden crates are stacked and crouch behind them. Dean the pulls out two shotguns. Handing them to us, taking our pistols and putting it in the duffel he was carrying.

Suddenly, "Guys. Hidings a little bit childish, don't you think" Meg says causally, catching us in the act. It nearly scared me shitless. The boys and I share a look of confusion. "Well that didn't work out like I'd planned" Dean says ironically. Meg then turns to us behind the crates, "Why don't you come out?" She says and we all slowly get up from our crouching positions.

Cocking our shotguns at her, we slowly approach her. "Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship" She says with a smirk. "Yeah, tell me about it" Sam retorts angrily, the grin on her face growing. "So, where's your little Daeva friend?" I grit my teeth at her.

"Around" She puts it vaguely. "And that shotguns not gonna do much good" She says cockily. "Well, don't worry sweetheart, shotguns not for the demon" Dean smirks. "So who is it, Meg? Who's coming? Who are you waiting for?" Sam asks her, narrowing his eyes at her. "You" She says plainly, a smile on her face.

That's when I feel the chills at the back of my neck again, this time, it's paired with the heated sensation I felt when I first saw Meg, only more intense. Fuck it was a trap. I should've known dammit. The suddenly, a force knocks the shotgun out of Sams hand in a flash, throwing him harshly to the ground and scratching him across his face.

"Sam!" Me and Dean yell. Before me and Dean could react, it knocks out shotguns out of our hands and then throws me into the wall and Dean into the stack of crates. We don't get much time to recover, head starts to feel fuzzy and the room starts to spin and that's when my body finally gives in, everything turning dark.

________________________________

Third Person POV

Y/N stirs awake after being knocked out, the three now tied to posts with rope. "You okay princess?" Dean asks Y/N, blood dripping down his face and the side of his head. She nods weakly, "I'm fine, charming. Just a little tied up" She says ironically, making Dean snort. A scratch, similar to Sam's, on her neck and one on her chest, right over her right boob.

She looks down at it and groans, "Seriously, why do they always go for the boob?!" She exclaims. She sees a slight smirk raise on Deans face from the corner of her eye and her gaze snaps over to him. "Not a word, Winchester" She growls and he chuckles lightly. "I didn't say anything" He says defensively.

"You two are fucking annoying" Meg groans as she enters the room. "Oh yeah, you should see me drunk. You'd love me" Dean retorts as Sam stirs awake. Meg stares right at Sam as he groans. "Hey, Sam?" Y/N calls out for Sam and he turns to her. "Don't take this the wrong way, but your girlfriend is a bitch" Y/N spits bitterly, turning to Meg.

"This...the whole thing was trap" Sam clenches his jaw as Meg grins at him. "Running into you at the bar. Following you here, hearing what you had to say. It was all a set up, wasn't it?" Sam says as Meg chuckles darkly. "And that the victims were from Lawrence?" He add. "Doesn't mean anything. It was just to draw you in, that's all" She smiles wickedly.

"You killed those two people for nothing!" Y/N snaps. "Baby, I've killed a lot more for a lot less" Meg counters with a smile. Y/N glares at her, pure hatred in her eyes. The boy's expression mirrors hers. "You trapped us. Good for you. It's Miller time. Why don't you kill us already" Dean pokes at her.

"Not very quick on the uptake, are we?" She says vaguely, a look of confusion covering the three hunters face. Meg then leads forward, "This trap isn't for you" She smirks and realization dawns on Sam and Y/N. "No.." Y/N whispers, her breathing quickening. "Our dads" Sam says lowly.

"It's a trap for our dads" Y/N says and Dean looks over at Meg who has a smirk on her face. Confirming it. Dean then chuckles, "Well, sweetheart, you're dumber than you look." He ridicules her. "Cuz even if they were in town, which they're not. They wouldn't walk into something like this, they're too good" Dean brags.

"They are pretty good. I'll give you that." Meh agrees, getting up from the table she was sitting on. She moves closer to Dean, pulling down his legs, she crouches infront from of him. "But you see, they have one weakness" She says, pulling his collar. "What's that?" Dean asks.

"You" She responds as if it's obvious. "They let their guards down around their children. Let their emotions cloud their judgements" She says darkly. Sam and Y/N clench their jaws at the thought. "I happen to know they are in town. And they'll come and try to save you" Meg says smugly.

"And then the Daevas will kill everybody, nice and slow and messy" She says morbidly. Looking over at Sam and Y/N with a smirk. "Well, I got news for you. It's gonna take a lot more than some shadow to kill them" Y/N counters. "Oh, the Daevas are in the room here. They're invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see" Meg says smugly, making Y/N roll her eyes.

"Why are you doing this, Meg?" Sam asks her. "What kind of deal have you got worked out here, huh? And with you?" Y/N adds. "I'm doing this for the same reasons you do what you do." Meg snaps. "Loyalty. Love." She adds. "Like the love you have for Mommy" She mocks Y/N who's glaring at her. She then turns to Sam with a smirk. "And Jess"

"Go to hell" Sam grits his teeth, his nostrils glaring in anger. "Baby, I'm already there" Meg smiles darkly. Getting on her hands and knees, she crawls over to Sam. "Come on, Sam. There's no need to be nasty" She says in a sultry tone. She then throws her leg over his lap, straddling him. Leaning in towards his ear to whisper, "I think we both know...how you really feel about me" She says lowly, sam groans in pain and disgust, wrenching in misery.

"You know, I saw you watching me....changing in my apartment" She teases him and Deans eyebrow cocks up at this. "It turned you on, didn't it?" Megs tone is alluring in Sams ear. "Get a room you two" Dean groans in disgust. "I'll get one for me and Sam and you can get one for you and Y/N" She retorts at him with a wink. Y/N nostrils flare in anger, her chest heaving.

"Screw you bitch!" She snaps. "I'll let Dean do that for you" She laughs manically. Deans too stunned by the banter to say anything. Speechless. "I didn't mind, baby. I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I can still have a little dirty fun" She whispers again in Sams ear, licking it and kissing his neck.

"You wanna have fun? Go ahead then. I'm a little tied up right now" Sam says in a low tone, smirking at Meg who smiles widely. Going back to kissing his neck. That's when she hears a metal clinking on the ground. Her gaze snaps over to Dean and she gets off of Sam. Going behind the pillar that Deans tied up against to see a knife in his hand that he's trying to hide.

She then takes it out and throws it across the room. Moving over to Dean who has a smug smile on his face. She then crawls back over to Sam, "Now, were you just trying to distract while your brother cuts free" She says in a low tone, straddling Sam again. "No. No" He says lowly, shaking his head.

"It was because I have a knife of my own" Y/N chimes in, bursting out of the rope. She springs to her feet and kicks Meg straight across the face with her combat boots, HARD. "Y/N! Get the alter" Dean tells her urgently as Meg groans in pain on the floor. Y/N nods and goes over to the table with the alter, tipping it over and destroying it.

Meg gasps in terror as the shadows of the Daevas begin dragging her to the window at the edge of the building. "Nooo! NOOO!!" She screams for misery, only to plummet to her death off the building screaming. Y/N quickly grabs the knife she used to cut herself free, going over to Dean cutting him free, helping him up then doing the same for Sam.

They look at each other in terror at what they just witnessed. Going over to the now broken window to see Meg, at least 10 stories down, dead. "So I guess the Daevas didn't like being bossed around" Y/N says ironically. "I guess not" Dean agrees. "Hey Sam?" Dean says.

"Hmm?" Sam replies.

"Next time you wanna get laid, find a girl that's not so buckets of crazy, huh?" Dean says sarcastically, a smirk on his face. Y/N snickers at the comment, tapping Sam on his shoulder who has his classic bitchface on.

________________________________

The trio are now walking down the hall of the motel to get back to their motel room. "Why didn't you just leave that stuff in the car?" Dean asks Sam who's carrying the bag of weapons as Y/N digs into her pocket for the room key. "I said it before and I'll say it again: Better safe that sorry" He retorts, looking back as Y/N puts the key in, unlocking their room door.

As soon as they enter, they see the shadows of two men in their room. "Hey!" Dean yells, turning on the light. The two men then turn around with sad smiles on their faces revealing themselves to be, John Winchester and F/N L/N. Their fathers. The boys and Y/N are stunned. "Daddy? Mr. Winchester?" Y/N says in disbelief. "Hey kids" John says lightly.

Sam and Y/N have tears brimming in their eyes. Dean instantly goes over and hugs his father tightly. Y/N is stuck in place, unsure what to do. "You're not gonna give your old man a hug?" F/N says jokingly, opening his arms. Y/N chuckles a bit, sniffling on her tears. She walks over and wraps her hands tightly around her father, melting into his hug. "I missed you, daddy" She says sniffling.

Happy to finally give her father the hug she was longing to give him since they say he disappeared. "I missed you too, baby" He responds just as tearful, kissing his daughter's forehead as they embrace. Dean and Y/N let go of their fathers hugs about the same time, switching. "How are you sweetheart?" John asks Y/N as they embrace. "I've been better, Mr. Winchester" She responds lightly.

"And you, son?" F/N asks Dean. "Same ole, same ole" Dean answers in the same tone. Meanwhile, Sam is unsure whether to hug his dad or not. He approaches them, resting his bag of weapons on the ground. "Hi, Sam" John says to his younger son, a smile on his face."Hey, Dad" Sam says wearily. "Mr. L/N" Sam nods kurtly at F/N, giving him a tight smile. "Sam" F/N replies with a nod.

"It was a trap. I didn't know. I'm sorry" Dean apologizes to John and F/N for being lured into Megs trap. They both nod, "It's alright. We thought it might have been" John assures him. "You guys were there?" Dean asks them. "Yeah, we got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive" F/N informs them and they all look at each other guilty.

"She was the bad guy right?" He asks them. "Yes, sir" The three young hunters respond to F/N firmly in unison. "Well, it doesn't surprise me. It tried to stop us before." John tells them and Sam looks surprised. "The demon has?" He asks them. "It knows we're close. It knows we're gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell. Actually kill it" F/N says to them.

They're all confused but nod listening to him. "How?" Y/N asks confused. John smiles, the smile reminding her of Deans when he has a plan in mind, and shares a look with F/N. "We're working on that" John responds. Dean and Y/N have a soft smile on their faces at this. "Well, let us come with you. We'll help" Sam i insists. Y/N nods agreeing.

Dean looks at his brother and y/n, a pained look on his face. "No, son. Not yet" F/N says gently. "Listen, try to understand....this demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don't want you kids caught in the cross fire or getting hurt" John tries to reason. "You guys don't have to worry about us" Y/N assure them and F/N sighs.

"Of course we do. We're your fathers" F/N says, his voice cracking. John then looks over at Sam, guilt on his face. "Listen, Sammy, last time we were together we had one hell off a fight" John begins. "Yes sir" Sam responds firmly. "It's good to see you again." John says with a sad smile. Sams tears running down his face. They then embrace in a tight tearful hug.

Y/N felt a happy to see them reunite, her heart swelling in joy. F/N looks over at his daughter, the guilt of their last encounter on his mind. "Y/N/N, I'm sorry" He says genuinely. Y/N's gaze snaps to her father in shock, "Well I'll be damned, I never thought I'd hear those words leave your mouth" She scoffs, chuckling humorlessly, tears forming again in her eyes.

"And you'll never hear it again" F/N jokes in effort to make Y/N laugh. She lets out a gentle laugh. They embrace again in a hug. Even Dean is shocked to hear her father apologize. "You'll always be my baby" He says to her wholeheartedly, she has to hold back a sob when he says this, her heart aching. "I know" She responds sniffling, finally getting some kind of closure, her heart swells.

As they all let go of the hug, the hunters look at each other tearfully and then a force suddenly throws F/N and John across the room. "Dad!" Y/N yells. Only to be tackled herself and thrown to the floor along with Sam, groaning in pain. "No!!!" Dean screams, now throwing across the next side of the room and clawed on his forehead.

Meanwhile outside the motel building, Meg, who they thought to be dead, is controlling the Daevas with a talisman, a dark bring on her face.

F/N and John scream in pain as the Daevas dig into their skins torturously, clawing at them. Their blood splattering. Sam runs over to his bag with weapons, pulling out a flare. "Shut your eyes!" He tells them. "These things are shadow demons. So let's light them up!" He then pulls the flare, lighting it aflame and throws it in the middle of the room as they all shield their eyes.

They all cough from smoke, Sam grabs the bag of weapons and make way to the exit. "Dad! John! Over here" Y/N yells. They help their fathers up, Dean wraps Johns arm around his shoulder and Y/N does the same with F/N. Sam holds the door open and they make way through it quickly.

They all exit the motel building as they help their fathers out and make way to the Impala around the side of the carpark. "Alright, come on. We don't have much time" Sam says urgently, opening the backseat door and throwing the bag inside. "As soon as the flares out, they'll be back" Y/N says as F/N and John lean against the Impala, trying to catch their breaths.

"No. Wait, wait!" Dean says and the two look at him confused. "Guys, wait" He breathes out heavily, looking at John and F/N. "You guys can't come with us" Dean says, his heart aching just to say that. "What?!" Sam and Y/N say in confusion. "What're you talking about?" Sam asks his brother tearfully.

"You kids, you're beat to hell" F/N says, shaking his head. "You need us!" John remarks. "We'll be alright!" Dean snaps, giving them a look. "Dean. We're should stick together! We'll go after this demon, together!" Y/N exclaims frustrated. "Princess, listen to me!" Dean bellows a little to get her attention, her mouth snaps shut at his tone.

"Look guys, we almost we almost got Dad and Mr. L/N killed in there. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop." Dean tries to reason with Sam and Y/N. "They're gonna try again, they're gonna use us to get to them. I mean. Meg was right. They're vulnerable when they're with us" Dean tries to explain.

"They're stronger without us around" Dean admits. John and F/N have guilty looks on their faces when Y/N looks over at them. Realization dawning on her, she felt idiotic that she didn't notice of it before, allowing her emotions to cloud her judgments.

Sam shakes his head, not wanting to accept it. "Dad, F/N. No" Sam pleads, putting his hands on his fathers shoulder. "After everything" He then puts his hand on F/N's shoulder. The two, holding on Sams wrists. "After all the time we spent looking for you guys. Please. I gotta be apart of this fight" Sam begs them. "Son, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play" F/N tells him firmly, looking at his daughter and Dean.

"But for now, you gotta trust me, Sammy." John says to his son firmly. Sam looks at him in disbelief, crying at the thought. "He's right, Sam." Y/N says sadly, her voice cracking. Sam turns to her with tears running down his face. She looks at Dean who is crying himself, her heart breaking at the sight. "You gotta let them go. We all do" She sobs shaking her head. Sam holds back his sniffles, nodding painfully.

Taking his hand off John and F/N's shoulder. They walk between the three and head over to F/N's 1986 step-side GMC Sierra Grande. John opens the passenger as F/N opens the drivers side. “Be careful, kids” John says with a sad smile. “Love you, y/n/n. You too, boys.” F/N says sadly before jumping into the truck, along with John. Sam and Dean nod sadly,

“Love you too, daddy” Y/N says weakly, clutching her scratch on her arm inflicted by the Daeva. “Come on” Dean says to them, jumping in the drivers seat. Y/N gets in the back while Sam goes over to the passenger side as F/N starts the truck, driving off. The three look at them driving away tearfully before sharing a sad look.

Dean then starts the Impala and backs out of lot, going the other direction. Meg emerges from the side of the building, glaring at the Impala that’s driving away. The three unaware of her still being alive.

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Authors Note: This chapter is unedited so please excuse the mistakes. Hope you guys liked this chapter and it’s bitter sweet end! I’m excited to to the next episode because it’s very funny (iykyk) lol.

Xoxo

[vergess]

Okay actually I would LOVE to hear your summary of what the Dresden Files like. actually is, as a series. Because every so often some guy will demand that I read it while insisting it's Superior Literature and the best fantasy series ever (unless maybe second to Lord of the Rings, but usually not even that)

They also like to insist that well of COURSE the main character is extra sexist and never improves but it's a FLAW, the AUTHOR knows it's wrong, therefore girls should LOVE reading his sexism. So like I was not buying this any degree to begin with, but I would love to know what's actually going on here

Bro, these books are Bad(tm). Do not fucking buy them. I cannot in good conscience suggest anyone read them, ever. But I especially, immensely cannot recommend purchasing them. This is "skulking around the library not making eye contact" material.

These are bodice rippers For Men(TM).

They're also, (and for obvious reasons they aren't advertised like this) High Camp Melodrama Fantasy Where Everyone Is Bisexual. But I repeat myself.

With that in mind, they are easily the best written urban fantasy fetish pornography I've ever seen outside AO3, and frankly better than most of that stuff too. It's just... you need to be aware going in that these are serialized porn mags. They happen to have exceptionally written combat and freakishly well considered fantasy elements, but they nonetheless use the same racial and sexual shorthands seen in the bulk of heteronormative, white gaze pornography.

Also, the main guy is an obnoxious asshole on purpose from second one and he does not ever let up on this, so if you don't immediately get along with his sense of humour walk away.

Now as for whatever dipshitted asshole is telling you they're superior literature.... mmmm.... no.

They're REALLY GOOD porn. I understand how really good porn is going to emotionally confuse the highly repressed (and oh BOY do these books appeal to the repressed) into a sort of pavlovian "this is the best thing ever" response.

But like, mmmmm no.

If you do elect to read these books, I suggest casting the main guy with a Black actor in your head. That change alone makes the immense amount of police presence and abuse more palatable.

OH THE COP SHIT

I FORGOT TO MENTION THE COP SHIT

Absolutely bonkers copaganda levels.

Also, the books were um.... progressive for 2005. They are not progressive for 2024. Let's put it like this; Supernatural (TV series) was a contemporaneous peer in the same genre. If you are damned set on subjecting yourself to one of these White Boy Monster Serials, pick this one at least it fucks.

Nevertheless, the writing is surprisingly charming, the Christian fantasy elements are genuinely competitive in a post-LOTR world, and the fetish shit is fucking immaculate.

I don't think Jim Butcher is aware he's written fetish porn, but whatever, he's REALLY good at it. I cannot recommend the sex scenes and the combat highly enough.

It's just unfortunate about the everything else.

Did I mention they're Christian fantasy elements? They are. They really really really aggressively are. These books are set in a Christian-centric universe and they do NOT let you forget that. There's like... so many Christian angels in this shit.

Anyway, if you choose to join me on this cursed journey (do not join me on this cursed journey), some other stuff to note:

Lots of underage and youth fetishism

Like, I cannot emphasize enough how hot and cool all The Youths think the Main Guy is and how aggressively the book lusts-and-guilts-in-turn over The Youths

So, so, SO much incest

Gay incest also

Mafia wedding guy is there, the guy from all the mafia wedding fics on wattpad, he's canonically the main guy's soulmate (no homo) (unless..?)

Main guy has too many soulmates btw, several are gay and some are blood relations, but most are muscular blonde women because he has a serious muscle fetish; fuckin gym gay behaviours

Undiagnosed bisexuality on the majority of the characters (I'm calling it; Jim Butcher thinks bisexuality is the normal POV and this is totally how Normal Guys talk about each other's dicks)

Exorbitant amounts of racism, some of which is "on purpose" and the most of which is horrifically unremarked upon; includes plenty of racial stereotypes. Nevertheless, the cast is diverse enough (outside the circle of main love interests) that these stereotypes can come up at all, so weigh that carefully

Special shoutout to the first major love interest, a Latina woman who dies spectacularly halfway through the series after having the main guy's secret baby

Extremely confusing relationship to psychosis as a mental illness

Melodrama that would make the desperate housewives sit back and stare

Fascinatingly good about homophobia actually, in that queerbaity 2005 way

*slaps the main guy like he's a car* You can fit so much dysphoria in this cis guy

In conclusion: I see why so many AMAB bisexuals of various genders who were part of the target demo latched the fuck on to this series so hard. I myself was fooled into believing these books were "for" Straight Men, and to be clear they are. But they're also Pulpy Gay Camp Bullshit that we the faggots of the world deserve to mutilate and recreate in our own image.

Together, I believe we could fix them.

Oh right, the plot:

The Main Guy, Harry Dresden, is a private detective Wizard Cop (serial plot is investigation based) who may also be the chosen one destined to defeat some elder gods (long term plot), and along the way starts several major supernatural wars and at least 2 arms races.

[starry-eyed-fag]

"I do not pass. I am never seen as a cis man in real life." Skill issue. "I simply do not benefit from cis male privilege, and cis women oppress me." Not true. You're seen as a man on here, are you not? I perceive you as a man. I think the most manlike thing about you, actually, is your toxic need to punch down on trans women. I will say, it is very feminine to be such a big fucking pussy and trying to avoid privilege sooo god damn hard so you might want to try cutting that out if you want to pass in the future.

SEND THESE TO MY DISCOURSE SIDEBLOG I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD: @political-faggotry

(also i apologize to my fob followers for this anon being so annoying)

I am done being patient with you lot. You're telling me, a transmasc nonbinary person, that me not having access to hormones is a skill issue. Me suffering from dysphoria is a fucking skill issue? You dipshits are so terminally online you can't even conceptualize a person who experiences any form of oppression outside of "these people were mean to me on Tumblr." Transmascs face actual violence in real life and not only do you deny it, you just call us misogynists for speaking out about it.

You people claim to perceive me as a man but actually you are doing exactly what every transphobe does. In your eyes, I am a woman when it is convenient to you and when you are able to weaponize misogyny against me, and I am suddenly a privileged male whenever I call you people out on it. Your crowd regularly spreads TERF rhetoric (not "terf rhetoric" as in anything i don't like, but terf rhetoric as in things terfs have actually said) by acting like people like me transition to gain male privilege.

It might be news to you that identifying as a man, instead of helping one escape misogyny, actually makes the misogyny worse. THAT'S WHY WE HAVE THE WORD TRANSANDROPHOBIA!!! TO FUCKING TALK ABOUT THAT!!! AN INTERSECTION BETWEEN TRANSPHOBIA AND MISOGYNY!!! DIRECTED TOWARDS TRANSMASCS!!!

I am tired of experiencing misogyny in real life and being called a misogynist by you guys for fucking talking about it.

Why the hell are you accusing me of punching down at trans women? None of this has anything to do with trans women. Trans women have discussions about transmisogyny and I fully support that! Not everything has to be about trans women all the time. Trans men are not some sort of footnote when talking about trans oppression. We are simply subject to more erasure and more invisibility than trans women, which means that WE NEED AWARENESS.

Plenty of trans women support the transandrophobia discussions. Ironically, the people most obsessed with denying that transmascs face oppression are other transmascs who have internalized transandrophobia to the point where they deny that it even exists. While that still sucks, being able to deny transandrophobia's existence while being a transmasc means that you come from a place of privilege.

I do not experience privilege over cis women, given that all other axes of oppression are the same. If you did a few minutes of research you would find many examples of trans men being mistreated and assaulted by cis women.

I EXPERIENCE MISOGYNY AND YOU'RE MAD AT ME FOR BEING A LITTLE TOO ANGRY ABOUT IT?

[kamiko1234]

*SWEARING & YAPPING AHEAD. EVERYTHING STATED HERE IS MY SUBJECTIVE OPINION AND IN NO WAY MEANT TO REFLECT THE OBJECTIVE TRUTH*

Hi yeah I just started chapter 14 and- am I the only one who sort of HATES how Thalia's being handled? And also Percy to some degree? Like- Thalia and Percy had just had this a conversation about Luke and ngl? Thalia sounded like such a selfish and entitled BITCH like!? The way she talked about "Luke's bad decisions" and that "they all have tough things to deal with" !? JUST NO! YK WHAT THALIA!? FUCK YOU! Like is she for real here? Really!? REALLY!? Like I get that Thalia is angry at Luke, and that the guy did some stupid and bad stuff but- TO ACT SO APATHETIC TO IT ALL!? LIKE HE'S ACTING UNREASONABLE OR SOMETHING!?

This isn't solely "Luke's just being a brat about something we all had to deal with". Luke's mother went INSANE. He was stuck with a mom having MENTAL FITS TO THE POINT OF HIM HAVING TO HIDE IN CLOSETS. The boy had to run away and live on the streets ALONE.

He had ZERO SUPPORT SYSTEMS IN PLACE.

For the love of GOD Thalia! Way to show you have the empathy of a STONE. And that guy was supposed to be your friend!? Not going to lie Thalia doesn't feel like someone who knows Luke in this book, even if she way mad at him. AND THEN THE COMMENT ABOUT HIM SUPPOSEDLY BEING AT FAULT FOR THEM NOT GETTING TO CAMP IN TIME 'CAUSE OF "PICKING FIGHTS WITH MONSTERS" LIKE??????? Like is the author for real right now? THAT'S what the consense is????? Last time I checked monsters were a bunch of blood thirsty LITTERAL GOD DAMN MONSTERS whose number 1 hobby is hunting and killing demigods. EVERYONE ELSE litteraly fights them ALL THE TIME.

BUT WHEN LUKE DOES IT IT'S SUDDENLY BAD!? THE FUCK???

And then the way she PHRASED it!? "Picking fights" implies that LUKE was the one who started the confrontation when i know DAMN WELL he didn't. Those were MONSTERS, they are KNOWN FOR ATTACKING DEMIGODS. BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO LUKE IS AT FAULT FOR THE FIGHT FOR SOME REASON! NOT THE BLOODTHIRSTY CREATUREAKNOWN FOR ATTACKING DEMIGODS!?

AND THEN THALIA ALSO SEEMS TO FORGET THE WONDERFUL FACT THAT LUKE WAS LIKE- UNDER 14 STILL WHEN ALL THAT WENT DOWN! That boy was a CHILD.

But I guess defending yourself is bad now! Sorry dude you heared Thalia, you should have just laid belly up and let yourself get killed^ Ands then that stupid ass line about Hermes loving Luke as if somehow made up for something????? LIKE BE SO FOR REAL THALIA WE BOTH FUCKING KNOW THAT HERMES "LOVING LUKE" DOESN'T MEAN JACK SHIT. I DON'T CARE HOW MUCH HE LOVED HIM HE STILL WAS A SHITTY ASS FATHER WHO DID FUCK ALL FOR HIS KID.

And now before anyone comes at me about this. I do not give a CRAP about that rule Hermes mentioned of gods not being allowed to meddle with mortal affairs because A) YOU GUYS ALREADY FUCK MORTALS TO PRODUCE CHILDREN WITH THEM!? THE FUCK YOU MEAN YOU "AREN'T ALLOWED TO MEDDLE WITH MORTALS" AND

B) LUKE WASN'T EVEN A FUCKING MORTAL YOU DIPSHIT!? HE WAS A DEMIGOD! A CHILD DEMIGOD AT THAT!? UR A MOTHERFUCKING GOD WE BOTH FUCKING KNOW YOU COULD HAVE DONE ATLEAST SOMETHING. DON'T HIDE BEHIND SOME STUPID ALL RULES THAT ALREADY SOUND LIKE EXCUSES WHEN THEY DON'T EVEN FUCKING APPLY IN THAT SITUATION

I swear to the heavens above the way people act like it was SUCH a surprise that Luke went bad are a bunch of fucking clowns, No wonder did the guy start a war WHEN THAT WAS HIS MOTHERFUCKING SITUATION. And then GOOD GOD THE COMMENT PERCY MADE WHEN HE MET ETHAN UNDER THAT TRUCE!? WHERE HE MENTALLY CALLED KIDS OF MINOR GODS UNIMPORTANT!?

WHAT A FUCKING DICK!?

Say what you want but it takes BALLS to first be mad at them for switching sides and then pull a line like THAT.💀 Percy needs to be HUMBELED real fucking quick omfg, and Thalia too. "Luke's old friend" my ass, I'm just gonna assume she was used as the authors mouth piece here since she was handeled MUCH better in TTC. God that just made me furious, especially Percy's hypocrecy concerning minor gods. (Hopefully I understood or misheared something at that part, otherwise Percy would just be a straight up biggot.) Way to get too deep into something, please don't spoil me. Thanks.

[gio-hannigram]

Paperwork had never been Chuuya's favorite part of work, even if it was the only time he had now for a bit of silence.

Suddenly a shiver made a run through his spine and the sharp edge of his own blade crossed across his neck.

“Took you long enough to get back, dipshit,” Chuuya could feel the edge of the blade pressing softly against his skin with every word he said.

A paper was abruptly held in front of him.

“Why the fuck did you spend so much on food? That's not even at the country the mission was at! Did you take the whole agency to dinner again?!” Chuuya yelled after taking the paper and reading through half of it.

The blade was long forgotten.

“I was celebrating with the kids and Kenji hadn't eaten in a few hours,” Dazai threw himself across Chuuya, his legs hanging at one side of the chair while the rest of him got accommodated awkwardly and uncomfortably against Chuuya's chest.

“I can't remember the old asshole complaining about this,” Chuuya whispered after a few minutes of silence.

“That's because I used to not cash anything like that from those days,” Dazai took the paper from Chuuya, who didn't say anything noticing the tone of voice Dazai was using; they still were walking through speaking about the days before Dazai left, and Mori, without either of them getting petty about it all.

Still it had been their decision to try, they were adults.

Dazai then threw it on the desk carelessly while moving over Chuuya like a cat trying to soften his pillow, “I didn't want anything from him, just the minimum.” Satisfied he yawned, “Now though,” and he was back to his stupid happy, yet not fake, tone, “I'm a hard worker of the mafia and every time I spend money I remember it is Chuuya paying for everything!” Dazai laughed.

In reality Dazai's salary was the average executive salary, even if he accomplished high level missions since Chuuya had known the tall shit would throw the travel work expenses limit out of the window and absolutely destroy the payroll each time he went on mission.

“How 's Kenji?” Chuuya took his coffee cup, relishing that Dazai had not drunk it all before poking him with it.

“He's as hungry as ever, half of the bill was just him,” Chuuya could tell Dazai was smirking while trying to get him to accept defeat on the subject of his expenses by using the kids.

In reality Chuuya just annoyed him about it so Dazai would get the shit he actually wanted. With Mori he lived by the minimum and the agency didn't really pay much, Dazai also used “secretly” most of his salary at the agency to support a few orphans that he pretended nobody knew about or that nobody would know why.

Now though, a full executive mafia salary could cover his secret and he used the mafia like a bank for everything else. Which wasn't really that crazy expensive anyway. So yeah, Chuuya gladly used reverse psychology on him.

As if.

The privileges of being the boss mistress.

Dazai said it once while looking Higuchi in the eyes after she had walked in on them annoying each other and she had asked why Dazai had received delivery of two hundred cans of crab to the mafia headquarters on the company bill.

Chuuya didn't even know what happened to them because Dazai had been eating at his apartment every single time he wasn't on a mission.

Checking the time Chuuya realized it was one day before the anniversary of Dazai coming back to the mafia.

Chuuya had rebuilt it after murdering most of the executives who knew about Mori’s secret experiments on kids to recreate Arahabaki.

Three days were all it took for Dazai to stand with Chuuya's own blade behind him in the only minute Chuuya had to himself.

“You went on quite the rampage, Slug” Dazai had whispered in his ear. “Mori always dreamed of me cutting his throat and getting the big chair.” Dazai slowly dragged the blade from one side of his neck to the other, carefully avoiding the chocker.

“Yeah, sorry I didn't think of your dreams,” Chuuya snickered, without raising from his new chair.

“Thank you for sending the kids to the agency instead of forcing Yosano to come.” Chuuya faltered, he had been ready to punch Dazai if he had been actually mad that he didn't call him first.

“No use on making my new alliance uncomfortable, the fuck are you doing here then? Your boss has already thanked me.”

Dazai moved Chuuya's chair away from the desk and to the side, then he went down on one knee. “I swear loyalty to…”

“Stop, what the hell are you doing?!” Chuuya stood up in panic.

“Taking the vow to the new mafia leader,” Dazai deadpanned without raising up like Chuuya was the idiot who didn't know what was going on.

“The payment of the old deal was changed, idiot, instead of an agency member transferring to the mafia as the deal dictated, your boss would take care of the medical attention of the kids found in the experiments, your doctor could save a few of them when normal doctors can't.” Chuuya exasperatedly explained.

“I know, who would want someone who didn't accept willingly to come here? ah Mori.” Dazai looked equally exasperated.

“I'm here on my own will, Slug.” Dazai stared at Chuuya who stared back while a deep silence echoed between them.

“Why?” Chuuya gave up, he had been pulled through so much already, he was in no shape to play around Dazai's stupid mind games.

“I had planned to volunteer for it when the time came, my crimes are public knowledge now, for those who care, and the agency would have problems because of me,”

It wasn't like Chuuya was expecting him to say something else, it wasn't as if Chuuya expected him to do it for him. He was talking with Dazai, after all, he cared to some degree but the mafia was not something he was ever going to go for someone else if not himself. That was why everyone got there after all, no other options.

“And I know Chuuya would be a great leader and I will be an asset at his side.” Chuuya truly hated that smirk, it was the clear view of a no choice but what the evil asshole wants.

“Fine, but stand up, I know you'll jump ship as soon as you can.” Chuuya jabbed.

“Are you trying to underestimate me? Chuuya there's many places I could go to!” Dazai put down his other knee and opened his arms as if to show Chuuya all he could lose, as if!

“I came here because I know the potential Chuuya has to make this so much better.” Dazai turned deadly serious and Chuuya felt a bit uneasy, “I hated it the first time around but Chuuya convinced me once to keep living through it, I'm sure he'll do it again,” Chuuya was not expecting that hit.

“When…” Chuuya whispered but Dazai cut him off.

“If my crimes had not been revealed I would still come regularly to annoy the new boss,” a wink and a genuine smile had Chuuya breathless. “So may I keep on what I was doing?” Chuuya just nodded.

The rest was history.

Soon to be three years, since Dazai made the vow of entrance to the mafia, “I didn't do it the first time so I'm assuming it is a marriage proposal kind of situation.” the fucker knew, still made it sound like all he was missing was a ring.

“Chuuya is thinking so loud,” Dazai took Chuuya's phone and tried to shove it on his face, “it's late, let's go home.”

Home

“Stop being a little shit,” Chuuya kept on signing paperwork while Dazai tried to move his hand away.

“¡No!” Dazai whined while standing and forcing him out of his chair. “I want Chuuya to take me to dinner and then go to the bar with me so I can play hard to catch.” Dazai yawned louder and that meant that Chuuya was going to cook while Dazai annoyed and criticized him from the corner between short naps. Dazai hated going out while sleepy even if it was his idea.

“Shouldn't it be the opposite way?” Chuuya sighed, unamused and walked with his idiot of a partner.

“Nope, If I get generous we're going to bed directly.” That's just as good for Chuuya, and what was most likely to happen since Dazai probably hadn't slept through his mission away, the bags under his eyes were back and Chuuya felt a bit guilty over having to send him away after how well Dazai sleep schedule had gotten, but it was necessary.

“By the way I'm calling off tomorrow boss, I have important things to do tomorrow,” Cuddle, that's it. Dazai looked back at him while walking down the stairs to the parking area.

“Not like you would ever get the assistance bonus,” Chuuya took his helmet and pretended to be annoyed, pulling out his phone while Dazai tried to put his helmet on to text Higuchi that neither of them were going in tomorrow.

“I could if it was worth it”

“Huh! No way you could.”

“I do!” Dazai gave out and lowered so Chuuya could save his helmet.

“Do not!” Chuuya yelled while they got over the bike and started their way home.

If there was more bickering and poking to the point where they skipped dinner and went directly to bed, and skipped work for two days, well, that was the boss' privilege.

[emeraldspiral]

The other thing about A Series of Unfortunate Events I’ve been thinking about is how obedience and decorum is weaponized against the children constantly and their greatest weakness is that they let adults run their lives even after learning that they’re mostly dipshits and can’t be relied upon.

They are constantly told not to interrupt, not to complain, to be grateful for every new guardian and every new living situation no matter how bad they are, to not be rude or impolite or hurt the feelings of the nice stranger who definitely isn’t Count Olaf by constantly accusing him of being Count Olaf. And so far (I’ve only just finished book 4) they’ve pretty much given in every time. They stop interrupting when the adults don’t want to hear them even when they say it’s an emergency. They play along with Olaf’s disguise when an adult tells them to drop the subject of them not being who they say they are. They go back to their deplorable conditions when their complaints aren’t taken seriously. And it’s all because if they don’t some dipshit adult won’t think they’re “nice” or “respectable” or “well-behaved” anymore.

I think these books actually make for a great conversation starter for parents to explain to their kids that it’s okay to break the rules sometimes. When you or someone you love is in imminent danger, you can do whatever it takes to make people listen to you and get you the help you need. You can yell and scream and interrupt, throw a tantrum, be rude, be annoying, be a giant pain in the ass. Fuck politeness, fuck respectability, fuck obedience and compliance and everything else adults want children to be for their own comfort and convenience. You don’t owe anyone civility at your own expense. If you’re trying to tell an adult that you’re being hurt or endangered and they don’t want to listen, you be as obnoxious and incessant as you have to until they do listen. Be like the kids who barricaded themselves in their home and refused to come out until the court order that would force them back into the custody of their abusive father was rescinded.

[bloody-bee-tea]

BeeTober 2023 Day 18 - Tackle

Suguru isn’t entirely sure how it happens. One moment they are in their usual groove during a fight and the next moment Suguru sees one of the curses aim for Satoru from his blind spot.

There’s not enough time to think, not enough time to remember that Satoru is basically invincible these days and before Suguru knows it, he’s moving. He knows he’s going to be fast enough the moment he pushes away from the ground and even though that means he’s going to take a–probably devastating–hit, there is nothing but relief that Satoru is going to be safe. 

Suguru collides with Satoru just in time to tackle him out of the way and the last thing he hears before everything erupts into pain is a panicked “Suguru!”. After that, there’s nothing but darkness.

~*~*~

Suguru wakes up to an ache in his side that almost borders on outright pain. He takes a moment to breathe in and out, trying to get used to it, before he opens his eyes. He is, of course, met with the clinical ceiling of the medical room and really, with his side hurting like that it shouldn’t be a surprise.

It still is, somehow, until Suguru remembers just what happened.

“Satoru,” he breathes out, because he doesn’t know what happened after he got hit, after he lost consciousness and the thought that Satoru still might have gotten hurt is enough to force Suguru into a sitting position.

“I really wouldn’t do that yet,” comes Shoko’s voice from behind him and when Suguru whips his head around in surprise everything goes dark for a moment.

He’s clearly not at his best at the moment.

“Shoko,” he whispers, once the spots that dance in front of his eyes are gone. “Where’s Satoru?”

“You’re such an idiot,” she says, and there’s more emotion in her voice than Suguru is really used to. “You should really care more for yourself instead of him,” she chides him and Suguru grimaces.

“What’s the damage then?” he sighs out, because clearly it must be bad if he’s still here and subjected to her care.

“The damage is that you’re a stupid idiot,” Satoru’s voice rings out and Shoko rolls her eyes before she vanishes to god knows where, leaving Suguru to suffer under Satoru’s furious glare alone.

“You’re okay,” he still can’t help but to whisper under his breath but he flinches when Satoru’s glare goes even more murderous, if that’s even possible.

“And you probably think that’s because of you, dipshit, but news flash, I’m the strongest. Of course I’m okay. I’m always okay.”

He seems genuinely furious and Suguru busies himself with laying back down, if only so he can escape that gaze for a moment. Or at least pretend to.

“I’m glad,” Suguru gasps out once he managed to return to a reclined position, though even that brought cold sweat to his forehead. 

He really must have been hit hard if he still feels this badly.

“Well, I’m not,” Satoru bites out and if Suguru still had the energy for it, he’d probably flinch. 

“I don’t understand–” Suguru starts because he’s at a loss as to what could make Satoru this angry.

“What’s there not to understand?” Satoru interrupts him. “I’m the strongest. I do not get hurt. I am untouchable. I am invincible. I certainly do not need help from the likes of you.”

His words sting worse than whatever left-over pain he has from his injury and Suguru can’t quite manage to meet Satoru’s eyes anymore. Of course he’d be angry. Suguru basically implied that he is weak by budging in and taking that hit for him and Satoru always prides himself on being the strongest. Of course he wouldn’t take kindly to what Suguru did, no matter if it came from a place of worry.

“I’m sorry,” Suguru somehow manages to get out and Satoru huffs in a way that makes Suguru’s stomach turn.

He has seen Satoru this angry a few times but never before had that anger been directed at him. It’s not a nice feeling at all, Suguru finds.

“You better be,” Satoru snaps out, his voice shaking with how angry he is and Suguru wonders if things would be better if he fell unconscious again.

Since that is not something he can do on command, though, he chooses the next best thing.

“I’m tired,” he mutters, but is stopped by a sharp pain in his side when he tries to turn his back to Satoru.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Satoru mutters under his breath and Suguru flinches with the reminder that he’s no match at all for Satoru.

He doesn’t even remember the last time Satoru truly needed to sleep and of course this is just one more thing that makes Suguru look weak in his eyes. Before Suguru can even try to come up with anything else to say, Satoru disappears between one blink and the next, clearly too impatient to get away from Suguru to simply walk out on him. 

Suguru didn’t know it could hurt this much to have someone teleport out on him.

Sleep does seem like the better option in face of that, and to his own surprise it doesn’t take him long to fall asleep at all.

~*~*~

When he wakes up the next time it’s to Shoko standing next to his bed instead of Satoru.

“Morning,” he grumbles out, still more asleep than awake and Shoko gives him a look. 

“Evening, actually,” she informs him and then watches as he struggles to sit up, not even lifting a finger to help him.

“When can I leave?” he pants out once he finally manages to sit properly and the look increases.

“You nearly died twice over, I don’t think leaving should be on your agenda for now. You can count yourself lucky that I managed to stitch your arm back on.”

“I–nearly lost my arm?” he asks and looks down at his torso. He doesn’t see much, of course, with the shirt he’s wearing, but it would explain the pain, actually.

“Nearly is generous,” Shoko shoots back and then rattles off a downright staggering list of injuries he sustained when he took that hit for Satoru.

Suguru can indeed count himself lucky that he’s still alive.

“How did I get back here?” Suguru asks, still trying to wrap his head around just how close he came to dying.

“Gojo. He teleported right into the room, clutching you to his chest.”

“He can’t do long distance teleportation,” Suguru mutters, because it’s one of the few things Satoru still struggles with.

“He can when it comes to you,” Shoko instantly replies and Suguru flinches with her words.

It’s just another reminder that he’s not nearly as strong as Satoru, but Suguru guesses Satoru will at least be grateful to him for making him learn that. 

“So, when can I leave then?” he asks again, because staying here is not something he wants to do.

Shoko regards him for a long minute before she sighs.

“There’s a tray in the room next door I need. Get that to me without having to sit down and you’re free to leave,” she tells him and just by her tone Suguru knows that he’s not going to make it.

Still, he has to try.

By the time he’s on his feet, he’s drenched in sweat, his entire side is screaming at him and his knees feel like jelly. Shoko clearly has no sympathy for him.

“I’m gonna make it,” Suguru grits out and Shoko huffs out a disbelieving laugh.

“Sure. Don’t break something when you faceplant into the ground,” she tells him with a wave as she leaves the room.

Suguru is almost thankful that now there won’t be witnesses when he does exactly that. Still, he clenches his teeth and shuffles forward. He’s not going to stay in this room for a day longer, not if he can help it.

He refuses to acknowledge the fact that his stubborn–and possibly stupid–desire is entirely born out of the urge to prove to himself and Satoru that he’s not as weak as Satoru clearly deems him to be because that is only going to make him spiral.

Suguru thought they were friends. Equals, even, as much as anyone can be that with Satoru. And maybe even–Suguru cuts himself off there, because that is absolutely something he does not need to think about right now. Satoru’s derision for him was more than clear earlier. Suguru pushes that thought away too and instead focuses on shuffling through the room, always keeping a hand on the wall; it’s not as if Shoko told him to not do that, and he’ll take any advantage he can get, no matter how small it might be.

Somehow he makes it to the door besides his like this, knees wobbling, sweat rolling down his face, hand shaking where it’s steadying him against the wall. It’s barely a victory but Suguru will take it. He does not think about the way back.

He pushes the door open, leaning on the handle to keep his balance but when he sees what’s inside, he freezes up completely.

Satoru is draped over a bed, a TV stashed in the corner, his clothes flung around the room as if he’s been living here for months. 

This doesn’t add up.

“Have you been hurt?” is the first thing out of his mouth and it would almost be comical how fast Satoru shoots up from the bed if Suguru wasn’t so worried. “Satoru, have you been hurt?” he asks again, more insistent this time when Satoru fails to answer him and he knows he shouldn’t, knows that Satoru is just going to take it as another offence against himself but Suguru can’t help himself.

He needs to know if Satoru got hurt.

“No,” Satoru finally gets out and Suguru almost stumbles where he stands. “Are you allowed to be up? Shouldn’t you be laying down or something?” 

Right, because he’s too weak to even stand on his own, Suguru bitterly thinks.

“I just–Shoko said–what are you even doing here?” he finally asks because he can’t understand what Satoru is doing here if he hasn’t been hurt. “Did you burn your room down?”

It’s the only other thing that makes sense to Suguru but Satoru only glares at him.

“I did not.”

“Then what–”

“You should sit down,” Satoru interrupts him and carries a chair over to where Suguru is still standing in the middle of the doorway. “Sit.”

“I can’t,” Suguru faintly says, even though there is nothing else he wants to do more. “Shoko says I can only leave if I make my way back without having to sit and I really want to leave.”

“You’re an idiot,” Satoru mutters and puts a hand to Suguru’s shoulder.

Suguru is ashamed to admit that even that faint weight is enough to make his knees buckle.

“Fuck,” he whispers when he heavily sits down on the chair, because there is no way in hell Shoko is going to let him leave now. Suguru is so not looking forward to spending another night here.

Speaking of–

“How long has it been? Shoko didn’t say.”

“A week,” Satoru says, his voice barely audible in the room and Suguru almost chokes on nothing.

“A week,” he wheezes out because even with how serious his injuries were he didn’t expect that. 

“A week,” Satoru repeats and Suguru can’t quite place the emotion in his voice. Before he can puzzle over it more, though, Shoko’s steps ring out behind him and Suguru groans.

“You’re staying then,” she says when she sees them, a pointed look at the chair Suguru is sitting on. “And you,” she continues as she glares at Satoru, “get the hell out of my hair. He’s alive, what more do you want? I’m sick of having you live here.”

She doesn’t wait for either of them to answer before she walks away and Suguru can do nothing but stare after her before he slowly turns back to Satoru.

“Live here? Why would you live here?”

“I don’t,” Satoru lies and Suguru pointedly looks around the room; the very lived-in room and he can’t quite hide his confusion when Satoru goes red in the face. “This is not about me,” he then hisses. “This is about you and your stupidity.”

“I already said I’m sorry,” Suguru snaps out. “What more do you want from me?”

“I want you to stop being this stupid! I’m invincible! No one and nothing can touch me, so what the hell were you even thinking!”

“I wasn’t!” Suguru shouts back and his eyes widen in shocked surprise when Satoru falls silent at his admission but it seems he can’t stop himself now. “I wasn’t thinking, Satoru. I saw that you were about to be hit, that you were about to be hurt and I didn’t think. I just knew I had to protect you.”

“I–”

“—don’t need your protection, yeah, I know,” Suguru bitterly mutters because Satoru has made that more than clear. “Sorry for caring about you, I guess,” he quietly tacks on and isn’t proud of the way it makes Satoru flinch.

“I’m invincible,” Satoru mutters—yet again—and Suguru is so fed up with hearing this that he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I get it! Would you stop saying that already.”

“I’m invincible,” Satoru still says one more time and there’s something desperate in his voice. “But you’re not!”

“What?” Suguru says, a frown now on his face. “Thanks for reminding me just how inferior I am.”

“No, no, it’s just—” Satoru reaches out for him, though he doesn’t quite touch him. Suguru can still see the faint tremor in his fingers. “There was so much—” he trails his fingers along a line and Suguru guesses he’s going to find a scar in the exact spot under his shirt. “I thought you died,” Satoru weakly finishes and then plasters his usual cheerful and entirely fake smile on his face again. “But I guess you didn’t, so good for you!”

Suguru is almost getting whiplash from how fast his mood changed and he’s glad that he’s already sitting down.

“What is going on, Satoru?” he weakly whispers, too tired to try and puzzle this all out for himself, though he’s slowly getting an inkling as to what this could be about. “Explain it to me.”

The smile drops from Satoru’s face as if it’s never been there and Suguru startles when he crouches down in front of him, his gangly limbs all tucked up.

“I thought you died,” Satoru evenly says, not meeting Suguru’s eyes. “Your arm was just dangling about and there was so much blood. I thought you died.” His voice breaks over the last word and Suguru sees how he clenches his hand into a fist. “Everyone always keeps telling me how I’m the strongest, how Limitless makes it almost impossible to hurt me and it was the only thing I could think about. If I’m so strong how come you felt the need to protect me? If I’m so strong how come I almost lost you?”

He pillows his head on his arms, burying his face so he can’t see Suguru anymore but Suguru still smiles softly at him.

It makes sense, now. Satoru is just feeling what Suguru felt when he moved to protect him.

“I didn’t think of you as the strongest when I pushed you out of the way. I just thought of you as Satoru and how I had to make sure you don’t get hurt,” he softly says and watches how Satoru’s entire frame shudders. “I just wanted to keep you safe,” he adds, reaching out to push his hands into Satoru’s silky soft hair. “That’s all.”

He lazily scratches Satoru’s scalp until the shudders stop and Satoru turns his head to finally look at him again.

“Don’t do that again,” he whispers and Suguru laughs.

“I can’t promise that,” he honestly says, because if something like this happens again, he has no doubt that his body is going to move once more before he can form a proper thought. “You stayed here to keep an eye on me?” Suguru then asks and again, a faint blush dusts Satoru’s cheeks.

“Couldn’t bear to be all across campus,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed but Suguru thinks it’s sweet. Kind of over the top, really, but sweet nonetheless.

“Mind to share your room with me tonight?” Suguru wants to know. “Yours is much less clinical than mine. Easier to keep an eye on me that way, too,” he adds with a grin, though his exhaustion is quickly catching up to him.

Satoru must notice, because he’s quick to get up, carefully helping Suguru across the room to the bed.

“You need to rest more,” Satoru chides him as he tucks him in and if Suguru had more strength he would laugh at how incredibly overprotective this is.

“You need rest, too, strongest or not. Come here,” Suguru says and tugs at Satoru’s hand in an attempt to get him into bed with him.

“I guess I can sleep,” Satoru agrees surprisingly easily and slides into bed with Suguru.

Suguru doesn’t have the energy to tease him over the way he curls around him but there is one question on his mind, even as sleep tugs on him.

“How come I can touch you?” he slurs out, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Satoru’s wrist and he’s not sure with the haziness of sleep but he thinks he feels Satoru’s lips against his forehead.

“You’re always the exception,” he hears Satoru mutter and then everything goes dark once more.

But this time, he falls into it with a smile.

[tobiasdrake]

We've had a hell of a day and I want to go home. And pour one out for a dear friend.

His death is a heavy weight on all of our hearts. He will be sorely missed. By us. By the Master Detectives. By every booze retailer in town. Truly, Kanai Ward is lesser without him.

That doesn't sound like good guy talk. We've succeeded in bringing an end to the internal strife plaguing Amaterasu, and helped Makoto to consolidate his power into an unapproachable citadel of control.

...let's hope for the best! d(^_^d)

EVERYBODY DIED MAKOTO.

Our boss DIED.

The scientist we were supposed to question DIED.

Vivia LIVED and he's mad about it.

I'm glad you're happy but this was a complete shitshow on my end. Even if you wind up being a well-meaning saint I still kind of hate you for manipulating us into this.

Yomi manipulated Yakou into killing Huesca. Makoto manipulated Yuma into distracting Yomi. The entire Nocturnal Agency was the ball in a game of power between these two rich dipshits today.

I'm mad about it and I want to hit something, but I'm powerless in the face of the corporate machinations that have taken place here. All I can do is go home, cry about it, and pour my grief into a big pot of my arsenic and battery acid stew. T_T It was Chief's favorite.

Maybe YOUR FACE is just a rumor.

...

That comeback hits so much differently when delivered to a man never seen without a mask. At this time, Makoto's face is, in fact, a rumor. There exists no evidence of it being real.

So what I'm hearing is "Anywhere but the Restricted Area." Not the Restricted Area, where we're at now, but the Restricted Area Restricted Area. The one nobody ever goes to, not even Peacekeepers, but there are allegedly shipments of corpses being trucked in.

Where we will most likely find the secret secret lab, instead of this classified secret lab.

Of course, even trying to go there at all is fucking reckless. I don't know how we're going to sell that to Yak--

...

...

T_T

Makoto, that looks like a ring box. So help me, if the next words out of your mouth are "You can give this to Kurumi when you propose" then I'm going straight to prison in the cell next to Yomi.

Yomi: The hell are you in for? Yuma: Punched Makoto square in the dick.

I hope it's a bomb.

I mean. I do not. Hope it's a bomb. For obvious reasons. Because I do not want to open a bomb present.

But if it is a bomb, then at least we'll be able to brush away the ambiguity and know exactly where to stand on the Makoto subject. I would rather know that he's the enemy than continue to have to wonder.

Halara, Yakou's been stone dead for at least ten minutes. You can stop with the chest compressions. There isn't a medical technician in this world that can bring him back from what I-- uh, the deadly assassin Fink did to him.

In seriousness, I talk a lot about how much of a poser Halara is. That they are not an emotionless stoic mercenary but try very hard to give off the image of an emotionless stoic mercenary. The traumatized desperation visible in Halara's unceasing attempts to resuscitate a body that has to be cold by now speaks volumes to the character buried beneath their façade.

We'll go home and pour one out for him.

...does anyone else drink alcohol in this group? We may wind up pouring a lot out for him.

It's okay. We got to say our goodbyes. Don't ask what that means.

BESTIE NO. There's a very important moment of frozen time in recent events! If you make me have to do the Mystery Labyrinth and kill Yakou all over again, then so help me I will give you passive-aggressive silence for at least three days.

...

Come to think of it, Fubuki would be a perfect lifehack answer to the whole "Mystery Labyrinth reaps the soul of the victim" conundrum. We use the Labyrinth, find the deeply held secrets, and then grab her hand and skip back a few seconds over that frozen moment. Bob's your uncle, we know everything and no one had to die for it.

Fubuki can fix the central moral conundrum baked into the premise.

No, he's been through a lot. We spent hours undergoing an important emotional and philosophical journey five minutes ago. He's exhausted. I can't blame him.

This is, once again, the recurring theme. The Mystery Labyrinth reveals tons of information but doesn't help. Whoop-de-dee, we learned about Yomi's corruption in the most secret hidden truth the Labyrinth held. Didn't matter. Makoto already got that information another way and confronted Yomi without our involvement.

The effect is mitigated only because Yakou was already dying. But otherwise it'd be another reaping of a soul for no goddamn reason whatsoever. In chapters 1 and 2, we reaped souls that didn't deserve it. In 3 and 4, the killings we committed contributed nothing of value whatsoever to the predicaments we were in.

Going into the Mystery Labyrinth never does anything good. How could it? It's a murder weapon. That's all it can be. I've been saying non-stop about the Peacekeepers that they are an institution of violence that exists for the sole purpose of violence and cannot be anything but violence. The same is true of the Mystery Labyrinth.

It only exists to kill.

Oh good, Kurumi's here to offer half-informed advice about how it's super-virtuous that Yuma's killing people like this.

Okay Kurumi, I'm not gonna be too hostile 'cause I like you now. Let's hear what you've got.

Oh, no, that has nothing to do with us. Don't even try to blame yourself for that.

In fact, it's the biggest irony of the case. After all that fuss we made, running out the door and trusting that his lanky bones won't keep up with us, it barely even mattered. Yakou's plan for tonight's entertainment was to round everyone up and take them to the same place I snuck out to visit anyway.

In fact, if we hadn't roped Makoto into our shenanigans, everything would have played out the way Yomi planned it, and it would have ended with all of us being shot Halara putting a few more dead cops on my tab.

If you think about it that way, your questionable plan to go ask Makoto to his face if he's doing shady shit was the curve ball that saved the day, Kurumi. You should take a victory lap. You gambled it all on black and came away with a big score.

In a roundabout butterfly-effect chain-reaction sort of way, Kurumi Wendy took down Yomi Hellsmile. Don't fuck with high school girls, man. They're feral.

Do YOU have the answer to Photo Lady's identity!?

Kurumi, you are this close to getting Best Informant in Kanai Ward validation from me. That's not an accomplishment. You're the only informant in Kanai Ward. But still.

BOOM, Photo Lady. Figured it was something like that.

Unfortunately, Huesca was conspiring with Yomi, the head of the Peacekeepers. So. Obviously. The Peacekeepers weren't going to arrest Huesca over it, were they?

No, when you're in a pincer trap like that, there's only one outcome. She fell off a balcony onto some bullets. Accidental death.

Yakou is no different from the Theater Girls in chapter 2. Someone close to him was murdered in a city where justice is a farce. Abusers thrive and victims get fucked. Even murder's just part of the game that unchecked capitalism is playing on its people. What other recourse did he possibly have?

When murder gets rewarded and cries for justice are brutally punished, the only option left to you is to become a murderer.

It explains a lot about his behavior since we got here. Ever since the WDO burdened him with this huge investigation, Yakou's position has effectively been, "Guys, I'm begging you, PLEASE don't get me killed before I do."

I'm not onboard with the overarching message of "Conviction is more important than being right or wrong," which keeps getting brought up. I think a lot of people have done terrible things with absolute conviction in what they were doing. It's good to doubt yourself and question if you're making the right choices.

But as a character beat, I respect this for Yakou. I honestly think, like the Theater Girls, Yakou did nothing wrong. But I can believe that Yakou believed that what he was doing was immoral. That on some level, a part of him was like, "Dude, we're really going to go full murder-suicide?"

But he chose to follow his feelings and do what his gut wanted him to do, even if it's "bad". He was true to himself, to the very end. That's why he was able to face Shinigami's oblivion with a smile on his face.

In a roundabout way, I think Yakou came close to my own philosophy of morality. He just phrased it differently.

[eternalergo]

— 15 Questions for 15 or maybe 5 or 6 Friends —

I've been attacked twice but I will not parry, I thank you @deepdwellingsteamboat and @corffiser Happy you always have me sobbing on the floor when I see your stunning gifs 😔🖤

Are you named after anyone? Complicated. My father liked the name Guinevere due to the whole King Arthur stuff so he thought why not give me the more modern version of the name.... When was the last time you cried? About two weeks ago at my granny's grave Do you have kids? Never gonna happen, bloodline will die with me ✨ What sports do you play/have you played? Does dancing count?? Now all that remains is back pain 24/7 Do you use sarcasm? Usually depends on the level of stupidity I'd be faced with What’s the first thing you notice about people? I'd rather run away from social situations but. It's likely their style, if they have one at all What’s your eye color? Green gray Scary movies or happy endings? Of course scary movies!! Any talents? Gaslighting myself and. etc Where were you born? Somewhere deep in the woods where you wouldn't even dare to go What are your hobbies? Anything creative, reading, gaming, annoying my kitty, doing absolutely Nothing Do you have any pets? Yesss a cat and she's my everything 🖤 How tall are you? 1,70. Usually tall enough to look down upon total dipshits Favorite subject in school? Art my beloved Dream job? Just living life tbh, not wanting to think about surviving anymore

Sorry for the onslaught of tag games, there's yet more to come lmao but there's no obligation of course. Also let me know if you don't want to be tagged (or want to be! will soon upgrade my tag list I swear)

@geniichiro ✨ @figkeele ✨ @cyralus ✨ @bearsgrove ✨ @crystariumrose

@corvoooattano ✨ @domokunrainbowkinz ✨ @famewolf ✨ @yahargulian

[someinstant]

Things Teaching Public High School in the US for More Than a Decade Has Taught Me:

Everyone thinks teachers spend all their money on, like, markers and shit. And maybe that's true in elementary school, but do you know what I spend an absurd amount of money on? Plug-in air fresheners, because thirty sophomores crammed in a room with the heat blasting after half of them have PE is rough. Endless bottles of hand sanitizer. Tissues. SO MANY TISSUES. And at least one electric pencil sharpener a year because they keep breaking mine. And also those black metal binder clips. Those are fucking gold.

The $300 federal tax deduction for classroom supplies is hilarious and infuriating, and I will never not take it because fuck you why am I the one buying the pencil sharpener?!

You will have the wake-up-late-for-a-math-exam nightmare for your whole life. But also, if you're a teacher, you get anxiety dreams where your department head tells you you're teaching AP Chem and Spanish IV next semester in addition to your normal courses, and Dream!You will be absolutely terrified-- not because you have to teach courses outside of your area of certification, but because you're going to have a minimum of three preps with one planning period.

To-do lists will save your life and (some part of) your sanity when you are trying to keep track of IEPs and 504s and HHB meetings and also figuring out when the three clubs you sponsor can meet and also AP study sessions and test make ups and also you're in charge of your subject area's collab group and also somehow two faculty committees that you're pretty sure you never volunteered for, they just happened, and there's the faculty meeting next Tuesday and also Open House and you need to call three parents about student grades, and also it will take you about five years to realize this because you're dumb and young and think you will just magically be able to remember what needs to happen when. No you won't, you dipshit. Get a planner, get a calendar, get a Post-It note or seven, and write that shit down.

Teenagers are hilarious. They're amazing. They're terrible, but also going through this insane transformative experience and you have a fucking front row seat to cheer them on as they steadily become less and less terrible and finally find out they're just-- fantastic. On bad days, they're the best part of the gig.

Everyone cries in their car in October at least once. It's normal teacher behavior, especially in the first few years. It's not good, but it's what happens when you have a month with no days off and everything starts to come due in terms of IEPs and grades and also it's ALWAYS Homecoming, which means there's the pep rally bullshit and Spirit Week and also the dance-- which you might have to chaperone god help you-- and for some reason the College Board also has dictated that this is PSAT season? So we all lose an instructional day to that, and-- yes. Everyone cries in their car in October. You're not weird. You're just very, very tired.

Amazingly, if you explain to students what you're doing and why you're doing it, they will generally be more engaged and focused and get more out of what you're doing. This goes for an activity, a full lesson, a unit of study, and the course as a whole. Show them what you're trying to build up front. Show them how you're putting things together. And if the thing you are doing doesn't directly connect to the long- and short-term goals of the course, redesign what you're doing. Students know when work is bullshit, and so do you.

Some of your students won't like you, sometimes. It's okay. Doesn't mean you've got to be a dick about it. Do your job and teach them anyway.

You will absolutely have some colleagues whose possession of a teaching license will befuddle you. If you have your shit together, they're likely to tug at your sleeve and constantly ask for material or help or whatnot, and it is going to be ENORMOUSLY annoying, because jesus, Susan, you're twenty years older than I am, how do you not know how to teach the Scientific Revolution by now? You might become the Tech Help Desk. You might have to show your colleagues how to use the digital testing program EVERY DAMN UNIT for THREE FUCKING YEARS because somehow they always forget and come running to your classroom while you're in the middle of teaching second period because they forgot how to publish to the assessment platform yet again. (Obviously not a personal example from this week or anything.) Here is the thing to remember about this: these annoying colleagues teach kids. And those kids do not deserve to get a shitty education because their teacher is Professor How Do I Use PowerPoint. Help your colleagues. It's okay--and good-- to draw boundaries so you don't murder them, but share your shit. Forward that fucking email to them for the seventeenth time, because it won't be you or they who ultimately suffer-- it'll be the kid in the back corner of the classroom who doesn't ever effectively learn about chattel slavery and exploitative labor and colonialism.

Let your students see you love what you're doing. Let them see you geek out over Olmec subtractive sculpture or physics or economic systems or that creepy Faulkner story about the lady who murdered her lover and then slept next to his corpse for the rest of her life. Let your students see that you love them. Tell them you're proud of them, and mean it. Some of them don't hear that enough. Care enough to be disappointed when your kiddos make bad choices (because some will and it will break your heart), care enough to be angry as hell about the puritanical debates over what books are allowed in your school library, care enough to let that kid talk your ear off about League of Legends or some anime thing you don't watch-- and care enough to look at your endless to-do list and say, "I can address the rest of this tomorrow. I'm going home to rest, now," because you can't do anything else if you've not done that.

[yarns-and-d20s]

Autism & Gullibility

I need to talk about this:

Not for the obvious reasons (does my uterus do this? if it doesn't, is it because I have PCOS or because I'm non-binary?) (but also because she used "ie" when she should have used "eg"). No, I want to talk about this because I don't believe it. And I'm autistic. And because I feel a strong need to unpack why my disbelief and my autism are giving me thoughts about this at 11 am on a Thursday.

For a while now, I've been keenly aware of people not-so-quietly working to infantilise autistic people. In politics, it's largely related to trans people and transition; the vocal 'phobes with large platforms of various stripes talk about the number of trans people who are autistic, and talk about how we can't be allowed to transition because we're gullible and believe everything and thus fall for the "trans agenda" because we're helpless little children all our lives.

Online, I saw things like people arguing that it was wrong to ship Critical Role's Jester with anyone because she's "autistic-coded" and therefore too childlike and thus it would make her (fictional) romantic partner and the people who ship them together PDF files. This has also happened with other characters that fans have declared to be "autistic-coded". I've also seen discussion about whether or not dating an autistic person IRL makes one a PDF file because we're so childlike and innocent and it's easy to take advantage of us.

And. No? No. Fuck off. Fuck right off with that and when you've reached your fucking off destination please continue fucking off into the sun. I'm 41 years old. If another adult human lost their goddamn mind and wanted to kiss me, it doesn't make them a child predator. It makes them an adult attracted (improbably, with me as the subject) to another adult.

The infantilisation of autistic adults sometimes puts a focus on our interests (which are deemed childish, which is another rant I may have at another time) but usually I see people bringing up that we're naïve, that we're gullible, that we're easily lied to, that we believe everything.

I'm not self-ID'd. I've got an official diagnosis. And I do not, for one instant, believe what Naomi Wolf has said in that screenshot. It sounds not only improbable to me, but literally impossible. She's lying. She's making stuff up. She's spreading literal disinformation. And I know that, all the way to my bones.

However, several weeks ago, I had an instance where my mum lied to me and I believed her (we live together because of our health problems; neither of us is capable of full independence). She put two full boxes of ice cream bars on a far counter in the kitchen then got distracted doing something else. So I grabbed the boxes to put them in the freezer. She told me to stop. I wanted to help; I asked her what she was doing with them. She told me she was going to put them in the garbage. I didn't understand why--they seemed fine--but she sounded immensely sincere so I carried the boxes to the sink so the bars could melt. (She then yelled at me to stop. She was going to take them out of the boxes and put them in a freezer bag so they'd take up less space.)

There's a reason why I believed her. People throw out food. People throw out perfectly good food. Plus there was her tone--she was very matter-of-fact about it. This can happen to me a lot IRL--if someone says something that seems plausible in a flat enough tone, well, I don't have any reason to disbelieve them. Why would someone who cares about me lie to me?

(There's also things like "Did you know gullible isn't in the dictionary?" "...Really?" "[insert howls of laughter at the gullible dipshit]" - for me, at least, that "really?" indicates that I'm not actually believing you, I require more information, and if I ever hear anybody say "... Really?" to something I've said, I interpret it as a cue to expand further.)

I generally find I don't believe something that sounds implausible to me, no matter the tone. We had a neighbour for years who had this very loud car that he would allow to sit beside our house and idle for at least 10 minutes every time he was going to drive it. Eventually my mum was so annoyed she confronted him about it, and he told her that it was "because the car is old" and the "engine needed to warm up", no matter the weather. The car couldn't have pre-dated the 1990s. I didn't believe him. By the same token, if someone waltzed up to me on a clear, sunny day and announced that the sky is pink, I sure as hell wouldn't believe that, either.

We can't read tone on the internet, that's true, unless we're watching a video. But I can't be convinced of just anything. I couldn't be convinced that Ancient Rome wasn't a thing, I couldn't be convinced that Helen Keller was a fraud. And Wolf ain't convincing me that the uteri of vaccinated people give unvaccinated cis women menstrual cramps. It brings up too many questions. Did these 60 women turn to the women around them and ask if they'd been vaccinated? Did they ask the hotel staff the vaccination status of whomever stayed in the hotel room before them? Why don't vaccinated men give them cramps? Or do they and she just left that out?

Being autistic doesn't make me a naïve fool, floating through the world believing every little thing that's whispered in my ear. It means I struggle to read tone. It means that I want to trust people--I especially want to trust people I'm supposed to be able to trust, so when they deadpan at me or speak matter-of-factly that they're going to throw away food, I believe that, and will act accordingly.

It's really, really hard to convince me of something that sounds out of the ordinary or wildly weird. I don't believe conspiracy theories. I don't believe everything I'm told or everything I read, and it's way easier for me to disbelieve stuff I see online. I do, in fact, fully and thoroughly grasp the difference between fiction and reality (and boy howdy is that ever another rant for another day).

So now, I get to the actual point of this: there are always, always, two conversations happening when it comes to autism and autistic people. There's the conversation that autistic people have about ourselves. Then there's the conversation that allistic people have about us. They don't include us. Ever. They want to talk about us, make decisions for us, make up rules about us. But they never, ever want to talk to us--or, more importantly, with us; or, even more importantly, listen to us when we tell them about our lives and epxeriences.

Whether it's real life or fucking shipping fictional characters, the allistics make declarations about us and what we're like and what we need.

And they never, ever actually ask us what our lives are like, how we experience the world, how they can work with us, what we want, what we need. It'd be too difficult.

If you've met one autistic person, you've met one autistic person. Ask us about our supposed "gullibility" and let us explain what's actually going on. Let us speak and be okay with it when we contradict you when you pass edicts--of consequence or not--about us. We're people with autonomy. Many of us are adults. Probably most of us are adults, given the sheer number of adult years humans live compared to child years.

No, we don't see the world the same way you do. Yes, the world is often very difficult for us to navigate.

But guess whose fault that is.

[azzandra]

I don't think I realized how wide-spread video-game like "systems" were as a literary device until I started reading transmigration stories (and, ok, transmigration stories aren't the only ones, but for some reason it does seem to pop up a lot in this genre). I haven't yet encountered a story that does the meta thing of actually delving into where this pseudo-game UI thing originates, though I'm sure there's plenty out there (if nothing else, when the trope gets lampshaded, transmigrators will often make reference to things they've read in other stories).

However, I will confess that every time a system appears in a story, I like to picture that behind the scene there is like, a huge call center where customer service employees sit in their own little cubicles and tap away at their computers, providing system users with service.

This especially accounts for the disparity between systems' usefulness in stories: in some they are an active hindrance, locking users into a set of behaviors and penalizing them for trying to stray from the script. In others, the system acts as an overpowered god-like machine showering the user in perks and advantages and deus ex machina-like interventions at every turn. In most stories, systems fall in the middle, where it's a mixed bag of advantages and drawbacks.

Now, I personally like to believe that how helpful a system is depends on how helpful the customer support agent behind the scenes is feeling.

Because I'm just picturing the, like, progression of one of these agents as they begin all rosy-cheeked and naive and wanting to be so gosh-darned helpful! So they keep tweaking everything in their user's favor, granting them OP junk and bending the plot for them in every way, until the user gradually becomes an asshole and spirals out of control and just makes a huge fucking mess of everything.

But that's fine, probably. That happens. Uhhh... our nice agent doesn't lose their faith in humanity! Even when the cynical colleague one cubicle over snorts and says what happened is fairly typical, our intrepid agent will prevail and help their next user with reaching a happier ending! So they go in on their new case, maybe dial back on the overenthusiastic bonuses and--uh... this one gets killed horribly through a mix of overconfidence and bad decisions. Hm. Okay, okay, it's fine next one is going to be just--aaaand this one becomes a manipulative, tyrannical asshole.

Okay, it's-- maybe it's just the quests. Gotta give out quests that encourage good morals! ...and now this user became a puritanical judgmental busybody.

Eventually, it's hard not to become even a little cynical, you know? What's the lesson here, that given even the least bit of power over others turns people into monsters?

New tack then! If helping doesn't work, let's give these users something to work for! No free shit, they gotta EARN their currency! They think they're so lucky? Bam! Every time they think things are going well, Murphy's Law comes to beat their ass like they owe it money! You want a quest? "Don't die, moron", there's your quest. You get five points if you survive. Spend that in the shop, dipshit.

And for a while, this maybe seems like a better attitude to take. The users are forced into rising to the occasion or suffering catastrophic consequences. With their leashes being shorter, they can't derail the story or the intended narrative as much. Some may even reach the desired outcome, albeit the road is hard.

But all the punitive quests, the limitations and the meager rewards take their toll on most users. Some make mistakes they never recover from. A lot fail, hard, in painful, deadly ways. And the agent grows increasingly uncomfortable as they realize the users being subject to all this become like rats in an experiment, constantly terrified of getting zapped for even twitching the wrong way. The system becomes not a tool, but an enemy, a monster, a strange thing to overcome. The agent gets, on more than one occasion, a screen blowing in their face when a user manages to attain some power that allows them to unshackle themselves.

And hey, the agent has other problems too! Like, the manager is always on them about their metrics, because they're not hitting the goals and they're dragging the whole team down!

So maybe the agent loosens up a bit. Maybe they recalibrate and try to balance out their attitude towards the users before they burn out completely.

And by the time some newbie agent comes to fill up the cubicle next to theirs, they'll have some wisdom to pass down.