#I think it captured a lot of the more creepy and tense vibes from the manga that tend to get lost in the anime sometimes

[bold-embrace]

The Eastern Forest

[zepskies]

Aw thank you so much, Wayne! I'm very excited to see what you thought...

One thing I absolutely adore about Firefighter AUs is that the firehouse is always a second (or even first) home and they are all a big family. And you captured that whole flair so perfectly in the way they all joke with each other. I laughed out loud several times during this chapter! ❤️‍🔥

That's exactly what I was trying to capture here, thank you!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 I drew heavily from my love of Chicago Fire and other Dick Wolf procedurals (i.e. Law & Order, Chicago Med, etc.) to create the atmosphere here. I'm also so glad you enjoyed the lighter moments. Sometimes I wonder if things I think are funny will be funny to anyone else. 😂😂

First of, the whole “soil water” and tea discussion was so random and so amazing! Especially, Benny’s “that ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son” got me 😂

Lmfaoooo okay I love that you shouted this out, because this came from a convo I had with my dad about coffee and the shittiness of Folgers. As a Cuban/mixed Latina, I fucking LOVE coffee (but I love tea as well). ☕

And then, as expected, poor Y/N walks in with the best intentions and it’s super awkward with everyone staring and listening in. And boy, she really does love to bake! I figured she go simple with chocolate chip cookies, considering she has a demanding job, too, ya know? But girlfriend went aaaaall out. She’s a true Girl Scout 👀👏

Oooh this was intentional -- you'll see why she's such an intense baker. (And it was awk as hell, wasn't it? lol She did her best to push through.)

“Call me Dean, baby girl” – I gasped and snorted 🤣 Meg’s my favorite so far. Loved the whole teasing! Of course they’d do that lol

LOL Meg was so fun to play with in this story. It was my first time really writing her, but I just love her vibe. (Though you might not like her so much in a future chapter coming up...)

And I must have watched too much This Is Us because I read Gordon’s “introduce her to a brother” in full Randall nerd voice instead of creepy Gordon voice 😂

Ooooh I still need to see This Is Us, but I've heard it's fantastic!! Though you might have mixed feelings about Gordon in this story. 😅

And oh my God! There is indeed MURDER! YAY! I’m legit so excited about this. I love a good murder mystery. God knows I watch too many true crime docs and cop shows 😆 Also love that John is a detective and Cas is his partner. What an odd pairing that surely leads to a lot of fun interactions 👏 Also love how you tied the murders in with canon! So clever! Now watch me guess who the murderer is for the next fifteen parts like a game of Clue 🔍🤓

Girl SAME. I grew up on L&O and other procedurals. It's part of the reason I couldn't not make Sam an ADA in this story.

And ikr, John and Cas are an odd pairing, but it was an idea that just sort of clicked in my mind, as well as trying to tie in some canon storyline into the murder mystery to provide a main drive for John. Thank you! Lol ah-la Clue, all I'll say is, it might not be who you expect...

The sheer anger I felt when that “subhuman Neanderthal” opened his trash can of a mouth… My whole body tensed! Can we please murder him? Please, please, please! God, I hope that ape becomes the next victim of our serial killer 🔪💀

LOL I don't blame you for wanting to throw feces at Nick. He's worse than pond scum. 🤢🤮 And unfortunately, he's gonna be around for a while as a main antagonist. But you'll eventually see what his ultimate fate is...

But then came thankfully my second favorite part of this chapter, which was some good ol’ Winchester brothers bickering and some more teasing of Dean. Again, Benny killed me with his “Clap” comment omfg 🤣🤣🤣 What the hell, Dean? Carpet burn?! Get your shit together, man 😂

Lmfaoo I'm so glad you enjoyed that scene -- it was probably my favorite to write, besides Dean meeting her again at the firehouse. And oh, Dean is ridiculous for sure. He's been a special brand of "hit and run" guy up until now, though you'll also see how he tries to do better going forward. 😂😂

Though totally agree, hitting on someone in front of Jo isn't classy. He's honestly so lucky the reader has no idea he used to date her. 🙄 Fucking men indeed. Thought she really has no idea what she's getting into with Dean, or even he with her. 😂 It's gonna be a bit of a roller coaster with these two.

Again, thank you so much for your lovely review of this chapter!! I'm so excited for you to see what's coming up! 💕💕

Smoke Eater - Part 2

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.

Especially for Dean Winchester.

In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.

Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor. 

Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.

Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.

“Jack!” he called out.

Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.

Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”

Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.

“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.

A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.

“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”

“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.

“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.

“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.

“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.

“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”

“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.

Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.

“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”

Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”

Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.

Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad. Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.

It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.

“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.

“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”

Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.

“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.

“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”

“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”

Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.

But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile. 

“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.

“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”

Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.

“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”

“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.

“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”

That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.

“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.

Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”

Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”

The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.   

From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.

“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”

“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”

Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.

Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.

You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).

He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.

“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”

“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”

Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”

Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.

“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.

“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.

He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.

“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”

Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.

“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.

Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.

But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.

He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.

So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”

“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.

“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.

Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.

Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.

“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.

“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.

“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”

“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.

This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”

“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.

Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time). 

“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”

Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.   

“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea. 

Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up. 

“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.” 

Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.

Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable. 

And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth. 

But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful. 

About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out. 

What a fucked way to die.

Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.

It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.

John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.

They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.

“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”

John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”

“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.

“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.

“That makes four,” Cas said.

“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”

John’s brows furrowed.

“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”

He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.

Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.

Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.

Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.

“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.

Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.

“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”

Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.

“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.

He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.

“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”

You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.

“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed. 

He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.

“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.

“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.

“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”

He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.

“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense. 

“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.

He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.

“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.

You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.

Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.

“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”

After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”

“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.

Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.

“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.

Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.

“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.

“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”

Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.

“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”

Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”

Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.

“Not my department.”

“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.

Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.

“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”

“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”

“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.

“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”

Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.

“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.

“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”

Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.

“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.

Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”

“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.

Dean’s brows knitted together.

“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”

“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.

“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.

“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”

Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.

“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said. 

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.

Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.

“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.

“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.

Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.

“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.

“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.

“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.

“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean could only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”

Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”

“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”

Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.

Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.

Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.

Dean had carpet burn.

“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”

Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”

“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”

He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head.  

“Ellen’s not the only one who’s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.

“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.

Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.

“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”

Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.

“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”

He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.

That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.

So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.

Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.

“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him. 

Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.

But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.

He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.

He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.

“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”

Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.

You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.

“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.

The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.

“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.

“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”

It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.

And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too��

But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.

So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.

It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.

There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.

There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.

“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”

You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.

“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”

Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.

Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”

Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.

“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.

Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!

(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.

Next Time:

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Keep Reading: PART 3

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

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[strangeandforlornbooks]

best books with morally ambiguous narrators!

all y’all’s problematic faves and villains! :) also included are third person narrators but in books with morally ambiguous leads/themes 

Sci-fi

Scythe by Neal Shusterman: in a future free from pain, disease, and war, people can live forever. ‘scythes’ are given the power to decide who lives and who dies to preserve the balance. sad and kinda gives of hunger games vibes, if you like that.

Neuromancer by William Gibson: basically invented the cyberpunk genre. strange and removed protagonists. (a team of computer hackers have to face off against an evil AI). you kind of dislike everyone and suddenly you’re crying over them. one of those trippy sci-fi classics.

The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut: very beautiful and very very sad (same author as slaughterhouse five). the richest man in america has to face a martian invasion. more about free will and bad people doing good things than a plot that makes any kind of sense.

The Man in the High Castle by Philip K Dick: set in an alternate universe where the germans and japanese won world war two. not really like the tv show at all- it’s not an action story, and there’s not really the hope to somehow fix the world that drives a lot of dystopia stories. instead its about how people survive and connect to one another in a hopeless society.

The Scorpion Rules by Erin Bow: a supercomputer convinces the leaders of the world to keep the peace for hundreds of years by taking their children hostage and obliterating any city that disobeys. what happens to the hostage protagonists when war seems inevitable? lots of morally fraught decisions and characters slowly losing their identity. (plus a fun lesbian romance)

Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson: a brilliant mathematician and a dedicated marine fight to keep the ultra secret in world war two. fifty years later,  a tech company discovers what remains of their story. one of the most memorable sequences in the book is a japanese soldier slowly becoming disillusioned with his nation and horrified by the war even as he continues to fight.

Blade Runner by Philip K. Dick: another one of those sci-fi classics that’s not at all like the movie. there is a bounty hunter for robots, though, as well as a weird religion that probably is referencing catholicism and a decaying society with a shortage of pets. kind of a trip.

Wilder Girls by Rory Power: girls trapped in a boarding school on an isolated island must face a creeping rot that affects the animals and plants on the island as well as their own bodies. the protagonists will do anything to survive and keep each other safe. very tense (and bonus lesbian romance whoo)

The Fifth Season by N K Jemisin: three women are gifted with the ability to control the earth’s energy in a world where those who can do so are forced into hiding or slavery. some veryyyy dark choices here but lots of strong female characters.

Historical Fiction

Fingersmith by Sarah Waters: two victorian lesbians fall in love as they plot to betray each other in horrific ways. lots of plot twists, plucky thieves, gothic settings, and a great romance.

Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiwicz: a powerful roman soldier in the time of Nero plots to kidnap a young woman after he falls in love with her, only to learn more about the mysterious christian religion she follows. very melodramatic but some terrific prose. 

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr: a blind girl in France and a brilliant German boy recruited by the military struggle through the chaos of the second world war. ends with a bang (iykyk.) very sad, reads like poetry.

Boxers by Gene Luen Yang: graphic novel reveals the story of a young boy fighting in the boxer rebellion in early twentieth century china. the sequel, saints, is also excellent. beautifully and sympathetically shows the protagonist’s descent into evil- the reader really understands each step along the way.

Fantasy

Three Dark Crowns by Kendare Blake: three triplets separated at birth, each with their own magical powers, have to fight to the death to gain the throne. lots of fun honestly

Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo: everyone in these books is highly problematic but you love them all anyway. a ragtag game of criminals plan a heist on a magical fortress. some terrific tragic back stories, repressed feelings, and revenge schemes.

The Dark Tower series by Stephen King: idk how to describe these frankly but if you can put up with King’s appalling writing of female characters they’re pretty interesting. fantasy epic about saving the world/universe, sort of. cowboys and prophecies and overlapping dimensions and drug addicts galore.

The Amulet of Samarkand by Jonathan Stroud: lots of fun! a twelve year old decides to summon a demon for his cute lil revenge scheme. sarcastic demon narrator. lighthearted until s*** gets real suddenly.

Elegy and Swansong by Vale Aida: fantasy epic with machiavellian lesbians and enemies to lovers to enemies to ??? to lovers. charming and exciting and lovely characters.

The False Prince by Jennifer Nielsen: an orphan boy must compete with a few others for the chance to impersonate a dead prince. really dark but very tense and exciting and good twists.

The Grace of Kings by Ken Liu: fantasy epic. heroes overthrow an evil empire and then struggle as the revolution dissolves into warring factions. interesting world building and three dimensional characters, even if they only have a small part.

Circe by Madeline Miller: the story behind the witch who turns men into pigs in the odyssey. madeline miller really said, i just used my classics degree to write a beautiful gay love story and now im going to write a powerful feminist retelling because i can. queen. an amazing and satisfying book that kills me a lil bit because of the two lines referencing the song of achilles.

Heartless by Marissa Meyer: the tragic backstory for the queen of hearts in alice in wonderland. a little predictable but very fun with a compelling protagonist

A Song of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones) by George RR Martin: ok I know we all hate GRRM and rightfully so but admittedly these books do have some great characters and great scenes. they deserve better than GRRM though. also he will probably never finish the books anyway....

A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket: not really fantasy but not really anything else either. plucky, intelligent, and kind children fight off evil plots for thirteen books until suddenly you realize the world is not nearly as black and white as you thought. 

Classics

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier: gothic romance!! a new wife is curious about the mysterious death of her predecessor in a creepy old house in the British countryside...good twists and lovely prose.

A Separate Peace by John Knowles: not really morally ambiguous but one awful decision suddenly has awful consequences and certain people are haunted by guilt forever.... really really really beautiful and really really really sad. boys in a boarding school grow up together under the shadow of world war two.

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy: while imperial russia slowly decays a beautiful young woman begins a destructive affair. a long book. very russian. the ending is incredibly tense and well written.

Lord of the Flies by William Golding: I think you know the plot to this one. the prose is better than you remember and the last scene is always exciting.

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie: one by one, the guests on an island are slowly picked off. one of Christie’s darkest mysteries- no happy ending here! very tense and great twists.

Contemporary

The Secret History by Donna Tartt: inspired the whole dark academia aesthetic. college students get a little too into ancient greece and it does not end very well. lovely prose but I found the characters unlikable.

Honorable Mentions

The Dublin Saga by Edward Rutherford: has literally a billion protagonists, but some of them are morally ambiguous ig? follows a few families stories’ from the 400s ad to irish independence in the 20s. beautifully captures the weight and movement of irish history.

Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer: how morally ambiguous can you be if you’re, like, eleven? a lot if you’re a criminal genius who wants to kidnap a fairy for your evil-ish plan apparently!

Redemption by Leon Uris: literally my favorite novel ever. the sequel to Trinity but can stand alone. various irish families struggle through the horrors of world war one. the hero isn’t really morally ambiguous, but the main theme of the novel is extremely bad people suddenly questioning their choices and eventually redeeming themselves. sweeping themes of love, screwed up families, redemption, and patriotism.

The Lymond Chronicles and House of Niccolo by Dorothy Dunnett: heroes redeem themselves/try to get rich/try to save their country in early renaissance Europe. if I actually knew what happened in these books I'm sure it would be morally ambiguous but its too confusing for me. in each book you spend at least a third convinced the protagonist is evil, though. lots of exciting sword fights, tragic romances, plot twists, and kicking english butt.

Bonus: Protagonist is less morally ambiguous and more very screwed up and sad all the time

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt: you know this one bc its quoted in all those quote compilations. basically the story of how one horrible event traumatizes a young man and how he develops a connection to a painting. really really really good.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro: hard to describe but strange... not an action novel or a dystopia really but sort of along those lines. very hopeless.

[andwhatdostarsdobest]

Take a chance | Part one [t.h]

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: for this chapter, none I don’t think. It’s all set up and secret pining. 

Summary: Making friends is hard enough, let alone when you have a massive crush on one of them. But what do they say, things always have a way of working themselves out in the end.

Word Count: 2.8k

Prompt: ‘Take a chance. Live a little.’

That picture has mad boyfriend vibes.  This was meant to be my submission for @madmadmilk summer writing challenge but whoops life happened and its now September... This is part 1 of five, I think. I haven’t posted in a while and I’ve had this in my drafts so thought i would just post something. 

happy reading, lovelies

masterlist part 2

You always loved people watching, wondering where these people had been and where they were headed. Each person has their own life, their own problems and their own people that they care about, trying to figure all that out had become a sort of game to you. You imagined the man walking past in a clean-cut navy suit, with a briefcase in hand and a disgruntled expression, had realised he had picked up his partner’s bag by mistake, and was now power walking to get to his next meeting after collecting the right notes. The group of teenagers, school shirts untucked, and ties pulled loose, laughing hysterically because one of them had called their English teacher Mum and the others wouldn’t let it go. The woman in her 50’s wearing the bright scarlet coat with the fur trim, on her way back from a meeting with the executors of her husbands will, who died under mysterious circumstances.

Okay, that last one may be a bit of a stretch, but it was fun to theorise about the exotic lives people lead. Especially when your own was far from that definition.

Drawing your attention away from the people, the glass of the café window came back into view, condensation coating patches of it. You had drawn a small smiley face in it earlier, although as the droplets dripped from the eyes and mixed with the curve of the smile, it didn’t look so happy anymore. That felt weirdly more accurate though.

“What do you think, Y/N?”

“Y/N?”

Two voices filtered into your subconscious, “huh.”

You turned your head back to the two boys in front of you. One brown haired and one blond. Both irritatingly handsome.

The brown-haired boy tilted his head, “are you alright, Y/N? You’re being quiet today.”

The blond boy chuckled, “she’s just people watching, aren’t you.”

You had only known Tom and Harrison for three months, but you were always surprised by how much they remembered about you. Even the smallest details. They were annoyingly good about remembering those. You tried to keep up, listening intently every time they mentioned something new about themselves, but they seemed to know stuff you were sure you had never told them. You weren’t sure how they were doing it. You suspected witchcraft.

“Because she thinks they are more interesting than the people right in front of her,” Harrison continued.

“Hey, I don’t think that,” you retorted.

“Oh no, I’m sure,” Harrison said, quickly followed by a wink. He often needed to make sure people knew he was joking, his sarcasm often got him in trouble.

You couldn’t help but blush slightly, warmth spreading across the apple of your cheeks. It’s not like you fancied Harrison, you just weren’t used to it. You weren’t exactly the most promiscuous of people. At least you could maintain eye contact with Haz though, if it was Tom that winked, your brain would have flatlined for a few seconds.  

Tom’s fingers curled around his mug, his bruised and calloused knuckles prominent against the white ceramic.

Oh my god, Tom’s hands. The dreams you had had about those; entangled in your hair, squeezing slightly too hard on your hip, entwined with your own. Your breath hitched just thinking about it.

He brought the cup up to his mouth, pausing mid-way.

“Well she wouldn’t be wrong, Haz. I know tax reports more entertaining than you.”

Tom instantly erupted in laughter, his eyes crinkling and his tongue sticking out. He pulled his neck back into him as his body rocked. Haz landed a punch on his shoulder, coffee sloshing up the sides of the mug from the movement.

“I’m so sorry, Movie Star, what was that?” Haz stared down his best friend.

Tom was still shaking from laughter, his coffee dangerously close to spilling on his lap.

The boys had these moments when it was blindingly clear they were completely comfortable around each other. They said things that you would only dare say to your best friend. They were totally in sync. You loved watching them, feeling free to truly be themselves. Especially as they spent a lot of time in the public eye and you could sense they were concealing something, holding themselves back partially. But it did feel like just that, you were watching, a spectator at their best friend show and for the most part you didn’t mind at all. But have you ever tried to third wheel a pair of best friends, it’s worse than hanging out with any couple. They are just so many inside jokes and little looks, memories and experiences that you don’t understand, you’re not a part of. Sometimes you can feel a little lost but that’s natural. You know it will come with knowing them longer.

You didn’t ever want to interrupt their friendship. You just weren’t sure how to act in moments like these. You tended to sit back and let them relish it.

Maybe you should get involved or maybe you shouldn’t. You were never good at making decisions.

“Don’t call me, Movie Star,” Tom replied, his laugh now coming out low and slow.

Haz turned in his seat to face Tom, the leather rustling underneath him.

“Is, Movie Star, not good enough anymore? I’m so sorry,” he placed his hand on his chest, “what would you prefer? Mr Holland, Spider-man, a god among men?”

“Well, I am Spider-man so yeah, that works,” Tom raised his eyebrows and brought his mug to his lips, sipping gently at the coffee whilst looking into Haz’s eyes.

The cheeky shit.

Harrison rolled his eyes, “the big man.”

You watched them play fight, noting the slight smirk on both of their faces throughout, signalling they didn’t mean any harm by what they were saying.

God, Tom looked hot when he smirked.

“Care to weight in, Y/N,” Tom directed at you, a mischievous look behind his eyes.

“It’s so hard to be boring when you’re a movie star,” you say, sarcasm evident in your tone.

“Hey, you can’t both gang up on me,” Tom said, placing his mug back on the table and then combing his hand through his hair. You watched his movements intently, the veins on his hands tensed against his skin.

You caught yourself before the staring became weird and uncomfortable, forcing your eyes away from the beautiful boy and focusing on the small vase of pink flowers in the middle of the table. If you could, you would watch Tom for hours. Watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way he would drink from a bottle without it ever touching his lips, watch the muscles in his back shift as he stretched at the end of the film. You weren’t sure if this was borderline creepy but there was something about him that was so entrancing. Somehow everything he did was able to capture and keep your attention. You knew you weren’t the only one either. You saw the way other people looked at him when he walked in a room or engaged them in conversation. Not that you were jealous, he wasn’t yours to be jealous over.

Can’t help but wish he was.

Tom was not what you expected. Maybe that’s why you couldn’t get him out of your mind. He intrigued you in a way no one had in a really long time.

In a really really long time.

“Anyone else hungry? Think I’m going to get a snack,” Tom said.

He pushed himself out of his chair and faced you and Haz.

“I’m offering,” he added.

Haz placed his hand on his stomach knitting his brows, trying to determine if he was hungry or not.

“Nah, I’m alright, mate,” he said.

Tom turned to you, “Y/N, can I tempt you with some food?”

“Not hungry, but you can get me another drink,” you replied.

Tom beamed, “sure, same again?”

“Yes, please.”

Tom patted his pocket, checking his wallet was still there and then headed towards the counter.

You settled back into your chair, sighing heavily.

You wished you could be as relaxed around Tom as you were with Harrison. A big part of you fizzled with a nervous energy when he was around, although you never realised until he left when you felt your shoulders drop and you stopped grinding your teeth.

But then I guess you didn’t have a thing for Harrison.

“So, how have you been, Y/N?” Harrison asked.

“Not too bad, uni has been hectic but only a few weeks left now.”

“Did you manage to get your final assignment finished? Last I heard was you spamming me with messages saying how close to death you were.” His lips turned up into a small smile.

You chuckled.

“Yeah, I finished, thank god. I think I started to lose my mind for a bit there but it’s all done now.”

“Good to hear, is that all your assignments done now?” Haz questioned.

“Got a couple left but they are practically done so I’m not too worried.” You picked up your mug and drained the last few drops of your coffee, ready for the one Tom was getting you.

“Now that you’re finished with uni, does that mean we will be seeing you a lot more, then? You’ll stop being so boring and staying in all the time.” Haz asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Hey, I’m not being boring, I have work to do,” you countered, your mouth hanging open in mock offense.

“So, you say…” he continued to tease.

You picked up a crumpled-up napkin from the table and flung it in his direction, but it never reached him. Instead it fluttered back down to the table, only causing more laughter to erupt from his body.

“Look,” you began, trying to regain some of your composure, “not all of us can rely on our unnecessarily good looks to get us jobs.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Haz, you’re a model, that’s literally your job.” Now you’re the one shaking with laughter.

“Fuck, yeah, you got me there.”

You brought your hand up to your face, covering your mouth, trying to stifle the laughs. Harrison grabbed his drink- not being a fan of coffee he had gone for a coke- and unscrewed the cap, taking a swig. Even with the bottle covering most of his face you could see the pink wash over his cheeks.

A faint shadow casted over Haz, you looked up and saw Tom. He was balancing a tray, laden with food and drink on one hand, whilst trying to shove his wallet into his pocket with the other. The tray wasn’t lying even on his hand and hot liquid trickled down the side of the mugs. You jumped up taking the tray from him and set in down on the table. When you looked back up at him he greeted you with a warm smile, crinkles forming around his eyes.

Tom looked between you and Haz, titling his head slightly.

“I feel like I just missed something,” he said.

“Oh, nothing much, just me being an div,” Haz said.

“Just the usual then, mate,” Tom snickered.

“Exactly.”

Haz jumped up, “here mate, take my seat.” He wriggled past the low table and stood next to Tom.

“Wait, where are you going?” you questioned.

“I’ve got that casting call remember.” Haz whipped his jacket out from the seat just before Tom sat on it. He walked around to where you were gaping at him and planted a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Panic set in, it wasn’t often that you were left alone with Tom, usually you could count on someone else to be a buffer to your anxiety. When you were alone you were worried that he would finally catch on how you feel, there is only so long you can stare at someone without talking before it becomes weird. Having a crush on a friend can be impossible at times. It’s like you forget how to act around them, suddenly everything becomes a what did they mean by that?  Are they flirting? No, surely not, but what if they are? What if they think you’re flirting? There is already an established connection there and you don’t want to disturb the equilibrium between you but then everything they do takes your breath away. It feels like too much of a risk.

It wasn’t particularly a problem at the start, you always thought Tom was attractive, but it takes you time to get to know someone. You must know who they are as a person before you start to crush on them. But then you got to know him.

What could you do though? You wanted to be his friend. If nothing else came from it (and you were almost certain nothing would) you still wanted to be his friend.

“What no kiss for me?” Tom teased his friend.

Haz brought his hand to his open mouth, “oh, I’m sorry darling, please forgive me.”

He leaned over and kissed the top of Tom’s curls.

Tom held Haz’s chin, “I can’t stay mad at that face.”

All three of you let out breathy laughs.

“Alright I really gotta go now.”

Haz slung his bag onto his shoulder, “don’t you two kids have too much fun without me. Actually, forget that, it’s impossible to have too much fun without me.”

Tom shoved his friend light-heartedly, “alright, get lost.”

Now the two of you were alone, you took a shaky sip of coffee.

Tom leaned back in his chair, spreading his body fully out, his feet sliding underneath the table. You both settled into silence for a few moments whilst sipping your drinks.

You knew you needed to sort your feelings out. You couldn’t go on like this forever. Maybe you should tell Tom but then what would he think? What would Haz think? You valued them both so much as friends, the thought that that could all be stripped away was scary. And there was the being vulnerable thing, which had never been your forte. Laying yourself bare like that, waiting for someone else’s response sounded terrifying.

That was a problem for another day though, for now it wouldn’t be so bad if you watched the way Tom’s fingers flexed around his mug and the way his tongue glided over his bottom lip after he took a bite of food, right?

“Oh hey, Y/N,” Tom said through a mouth full, “if you’re free tomorrow.”

He swallowed down the sandwich.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over, we could watch a movie or something, order some food.”

Tom always got distracted when watching films, checking his phone every half an hour, which would usually bother you a lot. But you could never find it in yourself to get mad at him. Besides you liked showing him your favourites and watching his reactions at pivotal moments, when he was watching at least.

“Yeah, sure, sounds fun. That film I was telling you about just came out.”

You waggled your eyebrows at him, sinking into your chair.

“Perfect,” he took a swig of coffee, looking at you over the rim, “it’s a date.”

What? A date? Hahahah, what? He doesn’t mean an actual date. It’s just a figure of speech, yeah just a figure of speech.

“Uhhh.” You tried to scrabble for a semblance of thought.

“Harrison?” you muttered, your brain still processing.

“Huh,” Tom raised an eyebrow.

“I mean Harrison is going to be there too, right?”

“Oh no, Haz is going out tomorrow.”

He noted the dumbfounded look on his face.

“If you don’t want to come then-” he trailed off.

“No, no, I do,” you chimed in. “I do,” you whispered to yourself.

Tom perked up at that, “great, I’ll text you a time later or something.”

“Yeah.”

What is going on? He had never invited you to hang out alone with him before. Best not to panic. Oh who are you kidding, you wouldn’t be able to stop panicking.  

This was just two friends hanging out together, right? It had to be.

But then he did call it a date and you had never heard him call a casual hang out a date before.

No, no, no. You’re being silly, reading too much into this, it definitely wasn’t a date. Why would Tom Holland, who could have any girl ask you out on a date? It just wasn’t plausible. No, this wasn’t a date.

Then why did he call it a date. Guess you had a date with Tom Holland tomorrow?

Fuck.

Tagging some mutuals who may be interested below:  @tomhollandthirst @uglypastels @spidey-pal @spideyfield @onedustyboi @h-osterfield @starkravingparker @mysteryavengers @aw-hawkeye

[freedom-shamrock]

Subtle Valse Musette - Chapter 5

Also on AO3 Chp 1   Chp 2   Chp 3   Chp 4   Chp 5   Chp 6 Marichat May day # 28 - hostage situation

 This chapter includes intimidation, sass, a non graphic fight scene, and the phrase "moth fucker."

Initially, the only thing Marinette was aware of, was how dry her mouth felt.  After a couple of moments licking her lips and not finding any improvement she realized she couldn't move much.  She let out a groan of annoyance, and it echoed in the dark. She blinked her gritty eyes, wishing she could rub them, and tried to take stock of her situation.  

She appeared to be tied to a chair, and it wasn't a nice comfortable chair, but firm wood. She could still feel her feet and hands, but they were starting to get a little prickly.  Her neck was stiff from her head lolling to the side and she rocked it a bit to try to ease the muscles. The room was dark and disturbingly quiet. She tried to remember what had happened, where she'd been before whatever this was had happened.  She recalled her morning clearly. Breakfast at the dining hall, her history of textiles class. She wasn't sure about lunch. Was today the day of her big meeting with Mr. Agreste? Had she even made it? If she missed it, she was going to beat the crap out of whoever was responsible.

She took a deep breath to push down the panic rising in her chest.  She'd obviously been abducted or captured by someone. She pushed her ear against her shoulder, relieved to feel her miraculous stones safely where they belonged.  She had to assume Tikki was hiding, biding her time until they had a good chance. She was clever in a bind and would be on hand to help Marinette when the right moment presented.

There was a mechanical shushing noise, and a low purple light came on around the edges of the room, letting her get a better feel for the size of the place.  The room filled with an eerie fluttering sound. "Are you quite awake over there, Ms. Dupain-Cheng?" a man's voice asked. It was cold and haughty, and while it reminded her rather eerily of Adrien's father, she knew this voice.  She'd heard it when she and Chat Noir faced the akuma face of Hawk Moth at the Eiffel Tower during their first mission.

"What?"  She looked up and flinched.  Hawk Moth stood before her. A vision of gray and purple.  Instead of a simple domino mask like Ladybug, Chat, and Rena, he wore full face coif armor, and the effect was disturbing.  "Who are you? Where am I?" She was freaked out, but as someone who had faced akumas and horrible situations for years, she hadn't frozen in fear, unable to consider her options.

He grinned, which only made him look creepier.  "Surely you know the answer to that question," he drawled.

His entertainment at her expense brought up a rage that shoved aside her initial fear.  She glared at him. "I think you underestimate the strange costumes I've seen. You could be Hawk Moth's latest fashion disaster.  You're giving off the vibe of a badly managed sex dungeon refugee with a butterfly fetish. I guess there's a chance you're Hawk Moth himself.  But seriously, have you seen some of the things the more artsy theaters do?"  She'd helped design and create more than a few artsy theater costumes.  She shuddered, remembering burlap and sequins. "I'm kind of leaning in the butterfly kink direction at the moment, so you should probably clarify."

He scowled at her.  "I'm not sure you realize the precarious nature of your position, Ms. Dupain-Cheng."  His cool voice held a warning.

"Obviously."  She channeled Chloe Bourgeois and rolled her eyes.  "I just woke up in a dark room, tied to a hard chair, with no memory beyond lunch.  I'm kind of missing some critical information here."

Even with the mask, she could see his jaw clench.  "So instead of asking like a civilized human, you thought an attitude would help?"

She cocked one eyebrow.  "Have you not looked at yourself in a mirror in that getup?"  She closed her eyes and sighed. "I was trying to speak in a way a butterfly fucker would understand."  She paused. "No judgement, by the way. You do you. Or do your creepy flock of butterflies.  Whatever works."

His eyes were narrowed and angry.  "I am Hawk Moth. My akuma obey my commands; I do not have relations with them."

"Sure."  She intentionally sounded unconvinced.  "Are you going to akumatize me then?" she asked.  "Send me out to fail to retrieve the miraculous, only to be cured by Chat Noir and Ladybug?"  She shrugged, as much as was possible with her bindings. "Have at it. The sooner you slap me in one of your hideous costumes, the sooner I can get back to my day."  She was pretty sure it wouldn't work, but it was worth a try.

He turned his back on her for a moment before poking at something in his pocket.  A television screen on an arm slid out of the wall nearest her. "Please do enjoy the news."

It was a recorded broadcast from earlier in the day.  Nadja Chamack reported live at the Eiffel Tower as a large cloud of black and purple butterflies coalesced into the shape of Hawk Moth's head.  "Heroes of Paris," the mockery of a human face spoke with that same cold haughtiness. "You will all provide me your miraculous within the next two hours.  I'm through with your games. Chat Noir, I advise you to talk sense into your companions if you ever wish to see your darling friend Marinette again. Ladybug, there will be no negotiation. Your time starts now."

So he didn't realize he had Ladybug; that was promising.  How did Hawk Moth even know that Marinette knew Chat? Alya was the only person she'd told.  It didn't make sense. She decided to stretch out on a limb. "Uh, Hawk Man," she called, looking at him as he gazed out his butterfly-leaded window.  She saw his back tense. "I think you got some bad intel."

"Hawk Moth , not Hawk Man," he snapped.

"Fine, Hawk Moth fucker," she amended.

He whipped his head around to glare at her.

"I'm not friends with Chat Noir," she explained.  "I mean, I'd love to be, don't get me wrong. He is my favorite hero, and that guy can fill out a cat suit, if you know what I mean."  She figured it helped sell the lie because her Kit-cat was hot as hell and she was not blind to that.

"He's rescued you several times," Hawk Moth pointed out, unconvinced.

She rolled her eyes again.  "Yeah. Along with most of Paris.  And to be fair, you akumatized most of my classmates, so I have had a bit more need of being rescued than the average Parisian."

His eyes narrowed.  "You're working on hero themed designs for Paris' greatest fashion house."

The press release had made her abruptly popular at school, mostly with classmates who thought she could get them an in with the elusive Gabriel Agreste.  "Yeah. Lots of designers have done the same."

Hawk Moth took two steps closer.  "You got Chat Noir's approval on the first set of designs."

It was true, but now that he was mentioning it, she recalled meeting with Mr. Agreste.  It was hazy, but there. He'd been the only person she'd given that detail to, thinking it would lend her designs credibility.  "That's true, but it still doesn't mean we're friends. It's not hard to put out a call for one of the heroes. The Ladyblog has a whole section dedicated to such requests."  She shook her head. "I'm not nearly as high a bargaining chip as you think I am."

"So you're telling me you're worthless?" he asked in a low voice that dripped danger.  He gave a little tug on his cane, separating it into a sabre and sheath.

"I'm not worthless," she corrected.  This was definitely not the direction she wanted things to go while she was still tied up.  "But I'm not this… what did you call me? Darling friend?" She shook her head again. She felt sudden warmth in her hands.  Her bonds had come slightly loose, and something was nudging her fingers. She'd never been so relieved to feel Tikki's touch.

The leaded glass shattered, shards scattering across the floor as Chat Noir crashed through the window feet first.  His arc brought his heels into a perfect collision with Hawk Moth's shoulder, throwing the older man across the room, his sabre sliding well out of reach.  Chat snarled, sounding considerably more feral than she'd ever seen him, even as Ladybug. He seemed bigger, too.

Marinette pulled her hands free while Tikki magiced knots on her feet.  By the time she was free, Chat had somehow managed to pin Hawk Moth to the floor, roaring into the villain's face.  He was definitely bigger, with longer shaggier hair. The spikes on his tail whistled as it lashed through the air, a visual representation of his anger.  

"Easy Chat Noir," Carapace called as he leaped through the window, closely followed by Rena Rouge.  "You've caught him. No need to do more." His voice was gentle, but his green and gold eyes held concern.

Chat Growled at his ally.

"Stick with the plan Chat," Rena reminded, moving toward Marinette.  "Are you okay? Let's get you out of here," she suggested.

Marinette dodged the hand her best friend's alter ego held out and approached Chat Noir.  "I'm okay, Kit-cat," she said quietly. "You've saved me."

He looked up at her, his pupils a tighter slit than she was used to, and his mouth set in a grimace to accommodate very sharp teeth.  What had happened to him?

Hawk Moth screamed below him and Marinette realized Chat was digging his claws into the man's shoulders, piercing the hideous suit and the flesh beneath it.

She reached out to brush her fingers along Chat's jaw.  "It's okay. I'm safe." When and how did he get a transformation upgrade?  She could see that he was still her Chaton, but wow. He'd gone from overgrown house cat to a panther, bordering on terrifying.  "Let me help you."

He let out a slow breath and nodded.  With that, the tension she felt coming off the rest of the team dropped noticeably.  They weren't used to this Chat either.

She looked down at Hawk Moth, critically assessing him the same way she would search for an akumatized item.  She reached down and plucked off the butterfly brooch at his neck. It immediately transformed into a button pin, and a wave of purple light washed over Hawk Moth to reveal Gabriel Agreste, Chat's claws still buried in his shoulders.

Chat Noir lowered his face to the other man's and let out a roar that shook the room, sending the shards of glass tinkling and scattering.

"Kit-cat?" Marinette said quietly.  "Let the horrible man go." She was half surprised when he obeyed.

Chat straightened up and rubbed his cheek against hers, filling the room with a rumble that rivaled most cars in volume.

Rena came over with the ropes that had previously bound Marinette to a chair, and tied Mr. Agreste's feet together.  "In a perfect world, I'd want the A team here for this," she said, standing up but not getting too much closer to Marinette or Chat.  "But we haven't been able to reach Ladybug all evening, and Chat's clearly in no condition to meet with the police or the press." She looked conflicted, and Marinette was pretty sure she wanted to bring her friend home safe.

"Chat, can you bring Marinette home?" Carapace asked slowly, stepping into Chat's field of vision.  "I kind of think you two have some stuff to talk about."

Marinette frowned at that ominous statement.  "What do you mean?" she asked.

Chat growled at Carapace, who simply raised his eyebrows.  "Do not go there, dude," he chastised, before looking at Marinette.  "It's his business to tell you." He gestured to the broken window with one green gloved hand.  "The police are on their way, dude. If you can get her home safely, I suggest you do that now. She's probably hungry and tired."

"Mari… Marinette?" Rena said quickly.  "Before you go to bed, try to jot down anything you can remember from today so you'll have it for the investigation.  One of us will be by with the name and contact information of a good trauma therapist tomorrow. Tonight, just do what feels safe and comforting, okay?"

Marinette nodded, feeling bad for her friend, being forced to split her focus between her job as a superhero and her role as Marinette's bestie.  "Thank you." She looked at each of them in turn. "For saving me and for taking down Hawk Moth."

Carapace shook his head.  "We were totally backup. You and Chat mostly took care of it yourselves.  And we appreciate the help." He winced. "Ladybug might kill us later, but you're safe.  Paris is safe, and that's the really important stuff."

Marinette glanced back at Gabriel.  "Someone should go see Adrien," she said.  "He's an old friend of mine, and… I'm worried how he'll handle this."  She didn't like thinking about that. "Tell him he can come to me or my parents if he needs anything."  Chat purred again, pressing his face to hers.

"I'll go see him when we're done with the police," Carapace said.  

Chat scooped Marinette up.  "Home."

"Yes please."  She felt her adrenaline crashing and let herself sag against him.

This started as a 30 minute speed write, but I hit the 5 minute warning timer and realized the only way to finish it properly was to take the time to do so. And I wasn't able to wrap it up until this morning.

One more chapter to come on this story, probably tomorrow (hoping to wrap up both remaining Marichat May stories tomorrow).

[fiendishthingee]

“Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places...”

I was thinking of certain scary movies I revisit around this time of year and why, and ended up writing some stuff below.

The Dead Zone (1983, Dir. David Cronenberg)

This one isn't strictly horror but captures the bleak, wintry New England vibe of early Stephen King perfectly, and has what is to my mind Christopher Walken's most moving performance. One of the few times Cronenberg has cared less about disturbing you or ramming a philosophical point home than in using a solid narrative to explore the emotional experience of a man caught up in an extraordinary situation. One of those films that deepens in your mind the more you live with it.

The Haunting (1963, Dir. Robert Wise)

Shot widescreen in gorgeous black and white, this one is one of the crown jewels of haunted house pictures. From the first moments it has a rich sense of foreboding, like a whisper that sends chills down your spine. Great performances, especially from Julie Harris as a young woman who was never quite right slowly going insane.

The Spiral Staircase (1946, Dir. Robert Siodmak)

A small gem from the 40's, in which a young mute woman is terrorized by a shadowy killer in a big house during a thunderstorm (do these films exist in any other conditions?). Small town scares with a bit of a noir feel, and a very creepy score. One that you see and instantly calls to the part of your mind that remembers that one time you ran home a little faster as the sun went down, a breeze kicked up, and you were just sure there was something moving back there in the shadows.

Frankenstein (1931, Dir. James Whale)

An obvious choice, but no less incredible because of it. I deeply love the first batch of Universal monster films because of how simple and pure and cinematic they are. Limited production values but MASSIVE amounts of atmosphere and feeling. Some people might feel they are dated but I think love them even more because of that. I love history, and the dark corners of these pictures carry a sense of not just film history, but of the old world itself, and the rhythms it had before it was overrun with technology. Terrific performances by Boris Karloff and Colin Clive, plus a very evocative and theatrical "introduction" before the film begins.

The Bride of Frankenstein (1935, Dir. James Whale)

Same as above, though this is a much more polished, eccentric and entertaining film. James Whale had free reign to do what he wanted, and he cut loose, aided by a gorgeous Franz Waxman score and indelible work by Karloff and Clive (again), Elsa Lanchester and Ernest Thesiger (whose prissy Dr. Pretorious is one for the ages).

The Mummy (1932, Dir. Karl Fruend)

A different type of monster, but just as eerie and surreal. Another of my longtime fascinations is the culture of ancient Egypt (don't get me started on "Land of the Pharaohs" or "The Ten Commandments"), which this quick film indulges along with a dash of the inherent creepiness that was completely missing (IMHO) in any of that stuff Brendan Fraser did. Again, the stilted nature of some dialogue and performance is all part of the allure, making it all feels so alien as to fit the mood of the story perfectly.

The Innocents (1961, Dir. Jack Clayton)

Another black and white widescreen beauty, this one a more subtle, ethereal ghost story centered on a pair of children that a well meaning but naive nanny (Deborah Kerr) has been hired to look after. Buried secrets are uncovered and dark forces unleashed, but in a much more subtle and emotional way (for a modern equivalent, look at something like "The Others").  The use of shadow and space here will make your knees buckle in spots, and the general aura of uneasiness will raise the hairs on your neck.

The Changeling (1980, Dir. Peter Medak)

George C. Scott loses his wife and daughter in an accident, then moves into a large, foreboding mansion in Seattle to focus on his musical compositions and recovering emotionally. Obviously, things don't go as well as planned. The trappings of the haunted house genre are given a real emotional grounding, and the backstory feels organic and engrossing rather than just an excuse to throw in loud noises. Wonderfully acted, designed and photographed, a quiet nail biter.

Something Wicked This Way Comes (1983, Dir. Jack Clayton)

Though a bit Disneyfied, this one is still a perennial because of how it captures that mixture of wonder and fear that Ray Bradbury's work had, pitting ordinary people up against sinister forces closing in on the spaces we consider the safest (in this case, a Midwestern town where the only thing that changes are the seasons) and crystallizing the moment when a parent realizes how little power they have to protect their kids. Driven by two wonderful performances, from Jason Robards (weary and homespun) and Jonathan Pryce (deliciously malevolent), this film has a genuine feel for small town life, the way that autumn can seem both hopeful and menacing, and the perils of both wanting to grow up too fast and wanting to be young again.

Salem's Lot (1979, Dir. Tobe Hooper)

The first thing that I remember absolutely scaring the shit out of me as a kid was a moment in this TV production involving nails scratching a child's window in the middle of the night. I won't say more about THAT, but I will say that despite this being made for late 70's television, with all of the restrictions inherent to that time, it's still pretty damn creepy, which is both a testament to Stephen King's original book and to the level of skill and atmosphere Tobe Hooper was able to give it. The depth of creepiness and history isn't as rich as in the book, but there is an approximation of the story's eccentric sprawl that draws you in, plus the eccentric, nostalgic vibe you get from late 70's TV.

Go To The Head of the Class (from "Amazing Stories") (1986, Dir. Robert Zemeckis)

A spooky, spirited lark made just after "Back to the Future" became huge. Nothing ground breaking, just a fast, funny goof made with Zemeckis' characteristic visual spark for Spielberg's mid 80's TV show and featuring a wonderfully cracked performance by Christopher Lloyd pitched somewhere between Doc Brown and Judge Doom (roles he played on either side of this one).

Curse of the Demon (1957, Dir. Jacques Tourneur)

The fact that my own family was menaced by Satanists (angry at my father for hauling one of their leaders into jail) when I was 9 probably has a lot to do with why I respond to this film, in addition to the general air of menace and atmosphere that Tourneur was great at (see "Cat People" and "Out of the Past"). Concerning the curse put on a man who debunks cults by the nefarious leader of one, this is a quick, creepy psychological ride with a classy script that doesn't scrimp on jolts.

Horror of Dracula (1958, Dir. Terrence Fisher)

Innumerable vampire films litter the history of scary movies, and there are certainly some that may have more ingenuity and pizazz than this one. But something about this early Hammer film, with its chilly, heightened gothic atmosphere and a sense of reality being peeled away in front of your eyes, sticks with you. It may be Terrence Fisher's brisk, efficient skill for building horror, or it may be the iconic performances of Peter Cushing and the great Christopher Lee. Or it may just be that particular, peculiar English sense of impending doom these films have. I first saw this one on during an AMC marathon (before they ever had commercials) hosted by the director of the next film on this list, and it's easy to understand how it spoke to his own feeling for the inevitability of a malevolent force slowly closing in on you.

The Thing (1982, Dir. John Carpenter)

Cold, stark and unsparingly tense, I saw this at a drive in when I was 7, and it sunk its teeth into me before I ever knew who John Carpenter was. The sense of isolation and foreboding built into the Antarctic location extends to the feeling of the direction, acting, photography and even the musical score (a mix of Ennio Morricone and Carpenter himself). At its core is the idea that you can't trust anything, whether it's the physical elements around you, the man sitting beside you or even your own sense of self. The opening sequence, of a dog being chased by a helicopter in the snow, is just gorgeous and evocative, and Dean Cundey's photography throughout is lithe and lurking. I think this film is so powerful for me because it came at a very formative time, the period between 8 and 11 where I was developing an understanding of the larger forces in the world that were not benevolent, that did not have any compassion, and did in fact want to kill you.

Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982, Dir. Tommy Lee Wallace)

This one got a unduly bad rap out of the gate, as it went in a wildly different direction in terms of its story and had nothing to do with Michael Myers. Aside from that, though, this is very much in the early 80's Carpenter spirit, directed by schoolmate/editor Tommy Lee Wallace, shot by Dean Cundey and driven by an unsettling, dread soaked score by Carpenter himself. True, there is a definite B-movie spirit to it, with obligatory kill scenes that feel too calculated and acting (aside from lead Tom Atkins and the wonderful bad guy Dan O'Herlihy) that can be a little shaky, but overall it's a creepy, entertaining story about modern day witchcraft (with a TV jingle that will get in your head and stay there forever). Again, part of its appeal may go back to where I grew up, in a small, rural place where something always felt a little off, where bad things might be happening at any moment right under your nose, and the dark carried a powerful emotional force.

[gradedgaming-blog]

Six Game Releases You Missed | August 2017

Mega Man Legacy Collection 2 - August 8th - PS4/XBONE/PC - Capcom

Pooling together the last four games that weren't included in the first collection. This game needs no introduction. Its a HD port of Capcoms original NES classic. If your a fan of Mega Man then you should 100% add this to your collection. Especially if you can pick up a physical copy as they will most likely rise in price in a few years.

It’s going to be a lot of frustrating side scrolling fun and I really hope it comes to the Nintendo Switch, who knows why it’s not already. This title screams switch.

All Walls Must Fall - August 8th - Steam - Inbetween Games

Take a future where the Berlin wall still stands strong and a pinch of cold war that still rages on, now add in time travel and secret agents, mix it all in an XCOM shaped pot and set to bake until it’s out of Early Access. You now have the recipe for All Walls Must Fall. I was in two minds about included an early access game on the list but its an interesting one and one I feel will actually be released.

An isometric tactics game you play as time travelling secret agents as time hop through a night in Berlin. “ Levels are procedurally recombined using a bespoke system developed by inbetweengames, giving All Walls Must Fall a highly replayable campaign structure, while still offering individually crafted components and set-pieces.” ( https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/inbetweengames/all-walls-must-fall-a-tech-noir-tactics-game )

I think this game looks like a brilliant slow burner that will become better and better the quicker you become at the game, rewarding you for making smart well thought out decisions.

HELLBLADE: Senua’s Sacrifice - August 8th - Ninja Theory - PS4 / PC

At breaking point with voices in her head you play as Senua who journeys into a norse hellscape battling her own mind and existential demons to make deal for her dead partners life.

The digital download only game has so much going for it, I want to write a full length essay on the depths it goes to and themes it touches upon.

Senua’s struggle with psychosis as she ventures into the stylised underworld is a journey that will stay with me for a very long time. At the heart of Hellbalde It’s a third person action adventure, hack and slash, with stunning visuals and chilling audio ( Best experienced with headphones ) I don't want to ruin the game by saying too much which initially feels like lazy reviewing but it truly is one of those experiences that if you like video games you should play. It’s not too long either which is great as I have less time to play games these days is super appreciate a refined shorter polished short experience.

Nidhogg 2  - August 15th - PS4/PC/MAC - Messhoff

Reach the other side and disembowel anything that stands in your way. This game has such a creepy, disgusting vibe and I love it. With unique moment to moment combat, Nidhogg 2 is an absolute blast with extremely fun Mechanics. Incase you didn’t play the original it thrived on intense local multiplayer and had more stripped back look to the graphics which I feel a lot preferred but personally I actually really like this oversaturated silly art style. The only thing is, it can be sometimes hard to tell whats happening on screen and when your game relies on tense second to second reactions this could be a problem.

Graphics aside this game is bloody fast and a ton a fun especially in multiplayer mode.

Matterfall  - August 15th - PS4 - Housemarque

Matterfall is an upcoming side-scrolling shooter game with platforming elements. I don’t want to be overly harsh because behind every game theres a team of people with strong vision and no one sets out to make a generic, boring tiring, copy and paste experience but I cant help but feel that’s all this is.

Years in the future the world has been ruined by aliens and its your job as Avalon Darrow in a bullet proof suit to put a stop to the extraterrestrial goings on. You have to jump, dodge and roll your way through the dynamic stages whilst creating your own platforms with a funky gadget. 

I get that’s there own spin on the classic run and gun games of the past but I find my self becoming cripplingly aware of my own mortality when playing this type of game. Having said this if this is your type of game it looks super polished and I love the HD vocal style. I have no doubt it could be a bunch of fun if its your jam as Housemarques Resogun was received positively.

Dead Alliance - August 29 - PS4/XBONE/PC - Maximum Games

Its a team based tactical shooter…. YES M8 another one, yeah not that amazing. BUT! There is a twist in this future apocalyptic zombie ridden world you use the Zombies as weapons. Turning the zombies them selfs into attack dogs, shields and so on. You can use the games many gadgets to weaponise a group of zombies to take on your opponent.

Picture knowing your enemy was held up in a safe house, I cant imagine a more satisfying kill than throwing a zombie lure through the window, standing back and watching them go to town or imagine blending in to a group of undead to disguise your self from a sniper.

As well as the classic death match. Dead Alliance includes a number of alternative game modes. One that sounds particularly exciting is attrition mode. Borrowing elements from your classic mobo, attrition mode gives each player a base facing three lanes. The objective is to capture enemy base by pushing them back up there own lanes, with a constant stream of friendly zombies at your aid its like an undead fps dota! What a great Idea!

Dead Alliance isn't going to break any sales records and I think that because it at first glance looks so generic but I do think with the right group of friends their is for sure hours of fun to be had here.

Six Video games you may of missed in August 2017.

Written by William Pearce www.culturegrade.com