#but i’m just saying… nobody really cares that he’s a violent misogynist that loves hurting and killing women/people and being a terrible

[cyberfunsupporter]

if penn badgley weren’t the guy who plays joe nobody would like him. in fact, people would be repulsed by him, and they wouldn’t have even needed to write the show similar to joe’s behavior in the books to elicit that reaction. it’s purely just about the looks here

[amyyythestarry]

Who do you think gave Amane his bruises?

Y’know I’ve been pondering on this for so long. Like I just don’t know really, I have my small little theory so I’ll share it.

I have no idea what was up with his parents during his middle school days ( Last middle school days ), I’ve heard theories that maybe Amane’s parents were absent, and I can see why they think that. He was probably one of those quiet kids that nobody payed much attention to so I don’t think he was bullied.

AND TSUKASA, ever since that ‘Tsukasa SA’s Amane’ theory went viral I just deny any theories saying Tsukasa maybe hurt Amane. I’m traumatized ok 😭.

BUT, I’m trying to be realistic here and say that, maybe, just maybe Tsukasa did cause the injuries. But maybe not on only his account.

When speaking of his ‘abuser’ Amane was really forgiving about the situation, he said that he didn’t care and that he’d put aside all of the violence.

I don’t think he would have said this about anyone else for hurting him. It has to be someone he’s close to, someone he cares about, loves, and cherishes. And I’m pretty sure the only person he feels that way about back then was his only sibling.

But it’s also confusing to think that it would be Tsukasa because of how he acts around Amane. He doesn’t act violent or anything. Tsukasa can be violent though, like with Mitsuba, or apparitions and whoever poses as a threat I guess, but he’s never been even a little bit violent with Amane.

This is just a way that Tsukasa shows affection. He wanted Amane to see the stars, and probably wasn’t aware that he was pinching Amane cheeks too hard.

He’s really cute like that y’know. I believe sometimes he can just innocently, accidentally, hurt someone by being intrigued curious and excited. He’s very non-self aware.

So using the term non-self aware is what I actually imagine him to be most times. Not knowing he’s doing bad things to people, probably until someone tells him he is. Like when Sakura told him to be gentler to girls seeing how he was with Nene the first time.

He looked a little absent there at first, didn’t he? Even while he was about to bash her head he was looking forward. When she stopped him from feeding Mitsuba he just sat there for a minute. Maybe not even acknowledging what he was doing? Just doing it. Like a reflex? Then stops what he’s doing, carries her like a gentleman, apologizes and puts her to sleep so she wouldn’t have to see him shove a bird heart down Mitsuba’s throat ( At least he listened to Sakura ).

I imagine he just came back to his senses when he realized he was about to hurt Nene. Like his brain told him “Hey dude, I need you to stop dissociating, you’re about to become really misogynistic if you don’t gain some self control” ( Lol ).

But yeah. Maybe that stuff happens to him on a daily basis, like he’s not fully aware and mentally there but he’s physically there.

If he was actually the one to cause harm to Amane when they were human, I could see that dissociating thing being the case.

ALSO, he has that wish granting supernatural in him! Like they’re one and everything, being present in the the same body.

I think that supernatural may also be the reason of the abusive Tsukasa back when he was alive ( If he was abusive to Amane ).

Maybe it was like that cartoon ghost possession rep where the character possessed by the ghost switches up every now and then because the ghost is apart of them too.

Him randomly dissociating, not feeling like he’s in his own body and accidentally hurting his twin brother, then coming back to his senses and realizing what he’s doing. I could see that.

Since Amane is his older brother, Amane forgives Tsukasa for the random outburst. Or maybe he notices something is wrong?

Whatever the case might be, I hope in this arc we can at least see more of the Yugi twins’ backstory, especially more of Tsukasa POV.

[drjackandmissjo]

firewhisky on ice, sunset and vine

you’ve ruined my life by not being mine

Chapter 3 --- previous chapter --- next chapter

Harry Potter fics Masterlist

"Sorry, Blaise. Can't today." That had been the customary answer from none other than Draco Malfoy, prefect and general pain in Blaise's ass, despite still being one of his best friends. Since they had started their lectures, there had been an incredible array of excuses left and right, but enough was enough and all the brain abled Slytherins agreed it was time for an intervention.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Theo began protesting, in his usual disarmingly calm behaviour: "You've been saying that since the year started!" he all but yelled at the blonde, visibly losing his temper already.

"I'm busy okay, back off" came a defensive reply that left something to be expected, yet refused to lead on more.

"No, we're not backing off on this anymore" said Blaise, still seated down in front of his irritating Herbology textbook. He could also feel his temper rising, but managed to keep it contained, remembering the neat way the muscles of a certain Gryffindor boy pulled wherever he scribbled a tiny note on a piece of parchment and choosing to focus on that to remain calm. He was really grateful they didn't have a legilimens in their house, otherwise things would've been even more awkward that usual. "Is this because of your new fancy position?" he asked, mustering as little discomfort as possible in his words, although the mere idea bothered him infinitely.

Draco's face paled of all its blood, eyes darting to look behind them all and to asses that nobody was spying on their conversation. "You know very damn well I can't talk about it!"

"Draco, you shouldn't keep secrets, you'll get wrinkles!" said Pansy, gazing her perfectly manicured fingers as lazily as possible. Blaise had wondered for their entire first year if she truly did not care about anything in the world or if that was an act, but quickly discovered that she cared way too much on occasion and it was smothering to say the least.

But her nonchalant remark snapped Draco out of his mind, and he replied with a hissed "Shut the fuck up Parkinson or I'll hex you into next week."

Blaise and Theo both laughed at the attempted threat, doubling over themselves in laughter as Pansy snickered sprawled over her chair. "How, may I ask, do you suppose to do so?" she asked, her blood red lips gleaming from the light of the fireplace in front of her, "You haven't been paying attention to class as much as you used to. You spend all your time daydreaming or staring at Saint Potter's tush" she added in a matter of fact way, voicing the thought they all shared.

Whether Draco was distracted by whatever dirty deed the Death Eaters wanted him to do or by Saint Potter and his rather objectively well shaped backside, formed finely by years of riding a broom and training, he was still distracted nevertheless, and that wouldn't do well on their collective well-being.

The blonde moved abruptly back, yelling such a forced "I DO NOT" that nobody in their right state of mind would believe. It wasn't as if Draco was out and proud or had even remotely hinted anything, but merely from a muggle statistic point of view, a class which his mother had forced Blaise to attend during the summer and he was incredibly grateful for, it was most probable that he was some sort of queer than anything else. He spent way too much time preparing himself to even see Saint Potter in the hallways, messing his hair and slicking it back countless of times to just "show him and his loser group of friends that we're so much better!" , to be even remotely straight. All of them would still love and care for him either way, as they would for Blaise, but the young boy understood the blonde's reluctance to share that little piece of information.

"Yes, you do, you queer puff. Don't deny it" continued Pansy, not wanting to let the subject drop and inevitably side-tracking from their original battle plan. Many headaches of Blaise's were caused by Pansy's inability to follow a scheme and still the only cure he could think of was to remove her head from her shoulders and leave it on the fireplace. That would've lightened his tension for sure!

But Draco was having none of it: suddenly as red on his face as a Gryffindor robe, he stood up from the couch and began walking away towards the dormitory door, leaving their intervention unfulfilled and useless. Another reason behind Blaise's headaches was Draco's ability to ruin all his bloody plans and intentions.

"Enough with this bullshit" he called back, looking distraught and uneasy, "I don't need your help and surely you don't need mine so kindly fuck off all of you. Let me know when you drop all this crazy shit!"

Blaise followed suit, exiting through the portrait after his friend and catching him up once he was near the staircases. "The fuck you want now?" asked the blonde, ire and hatred lacing his words. Despite it all, Blaise couldn't help but notice how his roommate was shaking, fear deep in his eyes.

He knew he should've tried to comfort, he knew he should've been patient, yet he couldn't bring himself to: while it was true that Draco didn't want to get in those awful games the adults of his family played, he still swore to fulfil whatever duty was asked from him, without mentioning it to his best friends and closest allies. He had a choice and choose to cower before the Dark Lord, he gave in to the threats and the violence and the bloody stereotype that Slytherins were evil murderers.

So when he spoke finally, they weren't kind words those that came out of him: "I would've loved to spend some time with you, you stupid bitch, even if it was studying, cause we rarely even see each other anymore. You're so busy either stalking Potter or doing Salazar knows what on the fifth floor." He saw Draco's eyes widen, the fear turning into full panic and then blow away as if nothing had fazed him in usual Malfoy Manner. Another headache was coming and Blaise wondered if he could go to Madam Pomfrey and ask her " oh hello! Do you have anything to rid me of those terrible pains inflicted by my awful Death Eater roommate, along of those terrible housemates of mine? ". Now, that would surely be an interesting reaction.

"Shut up, Zabini, you don't even know what you're talking about!" Draco whispered violently, checking that nobody was eavesdropping in the empty corridor. "Well why don't you start explaining?" he fired back, standing his ground with his full height and towering over the blonde, who looked like he was about to pass out at any given moment.

" Merde " he said eventually, after having gathered his thoughts, "I cannot talk to anyone about this, okay? Not even you, no matter how hard you push. He'll kill my mum if I don't do it!" He sounded more exasperated than scared now, as if he had already rehearsed that same conversation, probably with himself.

Still, Blaise needed all the answers he could get, "You mean…?"

"Yeah."

" Porca puttana Eva ." He passed a hand over his face, going straight to his shortly cut hair as if to ground himself. He had had doubts, of course, anyone in their right mind would have them and he was really surprised nobody from Saint Potter's squad was onto him like a guard dog. But thinking is one thing, having those thoughts acknowledged and confirmed was another topic entirely. Blaise felt as if the ground would open up from the stone under their feet and swallow them both whole. "Worse ways to go " he thought blandly.

"Indeed. So all I can ask all of you to do is cover for me and have faith in what I'm doing."

He uttered a dry laugh, trying to hide the nervousness that conversation was suddenly giving him. "How can we do it if you don't even trust us?" he asked roughly, hurt and very pissed off.

Draco now looked in full disbelief, as if he had never enthralled the thought of someone not following him blindly before. He supposed it might be true, since in their previous years he was always eager to agree with the blonde. But after their fiasco with Umbridge, Blaise swore to took with a grain of salt everything. Including his friendships.

"How can I trust you lot? I'm marked. I swore an oath. When the time is right you'll be too and we'll take back what's rightfully ours."

"You talk like a madman, and hopefully I'll never have a seat at that table" he said, stumbling backwards. 'Rule number thirteen: men are easily lead and get foolish as soon as they get a taste for any type of power or violence. Do not become like one of those' his mother told him and he didn't plan on disappoint her anytime soon.

"I'm gonna go back and study for the quiz tomorrow, and I highly suggest you do to" he said dryly after a while, regarding his friend with as little interest and concern as he could. And he then turned around, ignoring Draco's feeble attempt to snatch his attention back. For a seeker, he was trash at his job.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the portrait, he was flooded with questions from his fellow housemates, but they all immediately shut up at the thunderous look on his face. Theo seemed to catch on and simply raised an eyebrow at Blaise, who pointedly ignored his roommate and moved back to his Herbology textbook. There had been whispers among the Pureblood Slytherins, many parents having fallen back into old habits and already planning the coming of their children. Blaise had not truly acknowledged those words, choosing to ignore them, never revealing his disdain towards so many of his friends' families.

His father had been amongst those and had perished when his mother was still pregnant, and she and his grandparents had raised him to loathe that idiotic, medieval, misogynistic and racist behaviour. " White idiots think like that, and you are neither" had told him his mother the first time he had brought up the Dark Lord and his antics. He agreed.

Struggling to concentrate, he tried to remember if asphodel was considered by the ancient Greeks the food of the dead or of the nymphs, but his mind was full of worries.

He definitely needed to go to the infirmary for a headache remedy very soon.

Glossary:

"Merde" s French for "shit" cause we all know that Draco's pretentious ass swears in French "Porca puttana Eva" Is basically "Holy burning shit" literally is "that fucking bitch of Eve"

[nightcoremoon]

Callout post: me

lying, manipulative, hold grudges, constantly paranoid, would absolutely 100% check out a teenager if nobody was looking because "it's a harmless crime", liar, cycle through idealization and devaluation, 'sick of fat people trying to be the next civil rights issue and making it that much harder to get civil rights for people who are ACTUALLY oppressed like gee idk poc and muslims and the mentally ill and queer people', frequently fantasizes about committing violent acts against people I rationalize they deserve it including family members, untruthful, attention whore, pedantic AND pretentious, tells lies, doesn't believe in one sister's claim of sexual assault (went to smoke weed with the alleged perpetrator), UNAPOLOGETICALLY AGAINST ASEXUAL EXCLUSIONISM (LITERALLY FUCK YOU DUMBASS FOURTEEN YEAR OLDS WHO SHRIEK THAT QUEER IS A SLUR, SHUT YOUR GODDAM FUCKING WHORE MOUTHS YOU DUMBASSES AND GO THE FUCK OUTSIDE OR READ A BOOK), would absolutely punch a child over an insignificant internet argument, secretly sought out sexual pleasure from two friendly seemingly platonic encounters with two girls I just met within twenty four hours, overreacts to the slightest provocations and has bitches at or vagueposted at several people who did not deserve it, has used mental illness and physical handicap to evade trouble from being late for work because video games and laziness and excessive sleep, has spent maybe a thousand dollars on fast food in 2018 alone, evades bills for medical care from an actually great clinic, lying sack of garbage, gave up on calling out family's bigotry and is now an accessory to prejudice, despises terfs predominantly for their refusal to fuck me because of being trans and yet meanwhile would not engage in sexual relationship with another trans woman or cis man unless reeeeeeeeally drunk, can and will blame being sexually assaulted as a child which probably didn't even happen because I don't think I remember it, unabashed furry, probably as addicted to video games and masturbation AND LIES as I almost was to alcohol, pretended to have almost been an alcoholic just to "win" facebook arguments about addiction, doesn't give a fuck my dad almost died from heroin JUST because he's a *little* homophobic and racist and classist and xenophobic because of a christian upbringing, would literally fucking murder him if he EVER PUTS HIS HANDS ON ME AGAIN, only slightly depressed because of laziness and a lack of drive and ungrateful to my family because hey they didn't kick me out for being trans so HEY THATS SUPPORTIVE ENOUGH FOR SOME OTHER PEOPLE SO WHY CANT I BE HAPPY WITH THAT, legitimately salty about ~the friendzone~ and just makes fun of incels because everybody else does, takes the moral high ground for not being a misogynist even though I don't deserve a pat on the back a lap dance and a blowjob for not hating women, overly sensitive about stupid things, thinking about faking having a trigger warning for more discourse credit, HUUUGE ASSHOLE to men I deem unattractive for no other reason than every single ugly fat guy I've ever met has been an asshole, rationalizes it after the fact because they eventually say something shitty because all men are terrible, probably a little bit of a cisnormative misandrist because trans men tend to be much better people, finds trans men attractive (specifically and significantly more so than cis men) so must clearly be fetishizing them, relatively okay with people referring to me as deadnamed and the wrong pronouns so probably just lying about being trans to everyone including myself, not 100% okay with the hijab for 'no reason other than all organized religion is evil and opposed to its mandate and the shame it forces on many women in many situations the exact same way I'm opposed to no sex before marriage and wives being subservient to their husbands and treating women as property in the torah and quran alike because ITS ALL BRAINWASHING' so is clearly not unlearning islamophobia and doesn't want to let that go, hypocrite because I believe in the basics of judeochristianity

and loathe atheism and atheists entirely because their smugness and smarm literally sets my blood pressure through the roof of what is safe and normal and yet claim to hate all organized religion, mansplains yet gets so pissed off when other people mansplain to me, judgmental of other cultures because they don't have the exact same values that I have, james gunn apologist, talks and talks and talks about anarchosocialism all damn day but would beat the shit out of a coworker for leaving me to do things because they're lazy because "any job worth doing is worth doing well" and other capitalismisms, literally couldn't give less of a fuck that his mother is dying because people die but it's no reason to make my life slightly harder and making me work hard when I work because BOO HOO MY LEGS HURT FROM THE LITERALLY MOST MILD CASE OF MUSCULAR DYSTROPHY I COULD'VE BEEN BORN WITH, hasn't actually performed real suicide attempt ever but still claims to have done so to attain sympathy that may result in physical affection, countless other shitty terrible things that yeah I recognize are bad but CANT SEEM TO CARE BECAUSE I HAVE DEPRESSION... WHICH IS THE WEAKEST FUCKING EXCUSE IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE GODDAMN WORLD

I am not a good person, okay?

I just pretend to be sometimes.

I'm sick of doing it, I'm sick of trying to do well and earn people's approval by doing and saying the right things only to just be ignored which is a step up from receiving many anons that hey, never actually told me to kill myself, but did take my words out of context to paint me as a racist. I am not the kind of racist who would vote for trump and march with the kkk. that is one of very few good things I can say about myself. but I'm an arrogant, violent, and angry opinionated perverted manipulative judgmental lying asshole. I'm not a good person. I have let myself fall so much and I deserve to be alone. my only connections to people were built on personal gain and I swear to myself that I do love them but those feelings fall away in direct correlation to how much they interact with me. I could love you to the point of obsession and stalking and one month later be completely and totally disinterested. I'm a bigot who pretends to not be bigoted and just parrots what other people say not because I believe it but because it's the right thing to say, and I only say what the right thing is to say because whenever I say a good thing something good will happen to me and if I say a bad thing something bad happens to me. it's all just self preservation, nothing else at all. but now I'm at the end of a road of just trying to do good and I'm alone. out of the only two friends that I can really say that I have left, one is far away and trapped in a guilt spiral that I caused by being too clingy, and the other has been behaving in a way my mind has decoded as defensive around me which makes sense as I have been very... the best way to describe it would be the way a dudebro incel interacts with any person who possesses a vagina/breasts but sneakier. in both relationships I've pushed my own wants and desires in extremis... I can't for the life of me recall the last time I have ever offered something in return other than my own company or paying for a meal at a restaurant or I guess transportation. and instead of sex I just want them to express even the slightest bit of intimate platonic physical affection towards me but that's still a lot to offer someone who has clearly expressed the existence of a sexual and maybe something near the realms of romantic in one of the cases physical attraction because for this aspec it's practically the same fucking thing.

and I've manipulated them to attain this goal. at this point my shit brain has considered just fucking going to town on my wrists with a razor blade to draw sympathy so that I'll get a hug or something beyond just a simply hello/goodbye, and finding a way to induce tears to concoct a sob story to reach the same end result, and one time very briefly via threat and intimidation so you can clearly see that I've gone far too into irredeemable territory. I've been playing and replaying cry of fear because it's just too similar to my own issues and the first ending where he just kills everyone he loves and then himself... I see me in that ending. and it scares me so much more than the sprinting screaming twitching one hit kill chainsaw guy ever will. I don't want that to be me, I want to change something, but I just can't get the help that I need. I had hoped to go for a domino effect, where if I could be cuddled for like five minutes or something, I'd have the energy to be more hygienic, which would make me feel capable enough to take on two jobs, which would get me the cash flow I need to pay my bills and take care of my hormones, which would put me in the headspace necessary to effectively use psychological help, which would let me get over my illnesses and actually become a more successful person instead of the pathetic husk I am here in non-fantasy land.

but that won't happen.

I'm just sitting here in the dark angsting about how nobody will touch me in a way that would produce oxytocin, and it's making me so sick, so physically sick, that it's affecting my brain too. I'm in pain, nauseous, vengeful, spiteful, paranoid, judgmental, and lonely. I'm stuck and I can't even kill myself because my mind wants me to stay alive and suffer through all of this because "oh it gets better" people have been saying that for well over half of my life. I was six or seven years old when I asked my mother to kill me, and that same level of desperation and bitterness has only gotten worse as time goes by. when does it get better? I'll tell you when it gets better, after I'm in prison or comatose or forty five years old with a cane and bad eyes and high blood pressure and lung cancer from all the secondhand smoke I've breathed in my life. when my life is over, that's when it gets better. I DONT WANT THAT. I WANT A NORMAL FUCKING LIFE RIGHT NOW. I WANT NORMAL FRIENDSHIPS AND A NORMAL HOME AND A NORMAL EDUCATION AND A NORMAL CAREER AND A NORMAL FAMILY. or at least I want someone to hold me and make me feel like I'm not so horrible and broken that I can't be touched.

but that's too much to ask for.

[almaasi]

reaction post typed while watching SPN 13x07 “War of the Worlds”

in which I explain exactly why I don’t enjoy Buckner/Ross-Leming episodes (beyond obvious problematic issues and pacing), and why Meredith Glynn’s episodes are better imo

03:41pm

don’t know what to expect, so it’s gonna be SURPRISE

not expecting greatness since it’s the deadly duo, but i’m hoping this won’t become a “cas is leaving and won’t be back or mentioned for 8 episodes straight” thing

(or a “these writers are racist and misogynists” thing)

-

THERE’S A FLY IN MY ROOM

why do they never just fly back out the way they came in??? THE WINDOW IS OPEN YOU CURSED BEAST

-

03:44

whoop time to pull my window blind down ‘cause this show is so dark and i can’t see shit

-

03:45

i have yet to care about asmodeus

and i decidedly don’t care about lucifer

i care about mary in the sense that i don’t want anything bad to happen to her but i’m fine with her not being part of the main story

does that downtrodden black demon have a name?? i’m still rooting for him either way

also still can’t tell if michael’s vessel is a white dude or not

(edit: i think maybe no)

-

03:48

frankly i am still unsure why jack blasted team free will across the room, repeating his last mistake, given that doing that killed someone before??

was it like a “if gonna hurt everyone and here let me prove it” thing? or a “i’m getting you out of the way so you can’t grab me” thing??

-

03:50

*insert stock footage here*

-

05:53

cas lists all the worst possible scenarios

yea he’s a dad

-

03:54

why is david haydn-jones credited in this?!?!?!?! WHAT

maybe a flashback

WHOA WAIT OSRIC CHAU TOO WHAT IS HAPPENING ??!??!!? 

ARE THEY ALL ALIVE IN THE PARALLEL UNIVERSE

-

05:56

cas: “my contact is already anxious... won’t speak in the presence of a stranger”

sure jan

what’s the bet the writers have a pool of “reasons cas has to go alone” and they just pick one from a hat

-

dean: “so introduce me, then i’m not a stranger”

good. please.

-

UGH I AM SO SICK OF CAS DOING THINGS ALONE

but tbh i’m kind of amazed dean is healthy enough to let cas go alone and not worry that he’s gonna lose the guy again, given he just got back from the dead

-

04:00

the was asmodeus is purring “jaaaaaaaack” makes me imagine him as a snow leopard

edit: i could definitely see him on a tarot card, a snow leopard with a scarred eye, sitting on a throne

-

04:01

“the jack”

i enjoy that lil twist on his name. like the jack in playing cards

-

04:02

such manspreading

-

04:03

asmodeus: “say wW’hH~at !”

hurr hurr

-

04:04

i’m finding it hard to pay attention to michael and lucifer talking about stuff

these episodes always feel like uuuurughghhh gotta push through

-

04:06

OMG OG OM OGM KEVIN

CAN WE TAKE HIM TO THE OTHER SIDE AND KEEP HIM PLEASE

OH MY GOD I MISSED HIM

PLEASE GOD LET THIS BY THE DEADLY DUO TRYING TO UNDO PAST MISTAKES, NOT INADVERTENTLY MAKING THEM WORSE

P L E A S E  DON’T KILL HIM AGAIN

-

04:08

this kevin is very different

kinda twitchy

maybe autistic? (i mean... could he have taken that "worm” insult more literally?)

-

04:11

lucifer: “can’t you see michael is a monster? pure evil??”

kevin: “okay i’m confused, aren’t you SATAN”

*snort*

-

04:13

so lucifer just leapt through the rift

where is mary though

-

04:14

how did all those people not see satan fall out of a GIANT GLOWING RIFT

-

04:15

“no eye contact, beverley”

-

06:16

HEY ASS-MODEUS, LEAVE THAT RANDOM GUY NAMED KARL ALONE

-

04:17

random guy named karl is dead

>:{

yup thanks let’s add another non-white person to the deadly duo murder list

-

04:19

i just had a weird moment where i was like “ugh the filler episodes are so dull” and then realised this was a plot episode, and actually i like the filler better than the plot because the plot is just shoehorned in by buckner and ross-leming between interesting episodes

-

04:25

paused for a bit to feed my cat

and while i did i was thinking i’d like jack to meet kevin. i’ve been thinking about that for a few weeks, but it seemed impossible for obvious kevin-is-dead reasons, BUT NOW

I HOPE IT HAPPENS

-

04:27

wait

so the witch told the winchesters she needed protection, then left without explaining why

and then the winchesters had to follow her there, to a place that was hard to find

and then tell her “we followed you here”

and it was hard to find even though they followed her????

and they just enter the house not assuming it’s a trap of some kind

.................

⁽͑˙˚̀བ̇˚́˙⁾̉

-

04:32

i replayed it, sam says “but we followed you here”

that “but” makes a lot of difference okay we’re good

-

04:35

this cabin looks exactly like all the other cabins they’ve used as a cabin

-

04:37

hm.

look, in comparison, i love meredith glynn’s writing (e.g. the one where sam and dean visit the therapist, the one where dean loses his memories). because yeah, her stories are whimsical and i adore that - but sometimes they’re also gory and can get dark. yet her characters are soft and emotionally available. and they make decisions because of curiosity, or worry, or sadness, or grief or... y’know, something core-deep and with lots of different perspectives within those emotions.

whereas buckner and ross-leming.... every decision their characters make are fuelled by straight-up anger and fear. and it’s usually surface-level - reactive, or sudden, without narrative depth giving a clear reason for that anger.

and i’m not saying that anger-fuel can’t be interesting, it’s that it makes it hard to watch for me. the characters feel more closed off, more directly just going for a “kill or be killed” thing. they want to hurt people, get revenge, use force to get information.

it’s not necessarily out of character, it’s just that a) there’s a lot of it, and every character seems to function the same way even though they’re different people, and b) the setup to those scenes isn’t enough to make me understand why they all begin by fighting, or torturing someone before asking nicely.

no, i don’t like ketch at all, but skipping straight to the I’MMA PUNCH YOU UNTIL YOU TELL ME WHAT I WANT TO HEAR doesn’t work for me

at all, on any level.

and this scene where dean punches ketch?? it directly parallels the information-gathering methods of dean, ketch, and asmodeus within this episode, and that just puts dean in a bad light. and honestly i can’t even tell if it’s intentional or if the deadly duo didn’t know what they were doing and they don’t know how else people ask questions.

it’s not “different because it’s dean doing it”. it’s a villain’s move. they all did the same thing, and it was violent and unnecessary every time.

-

04:47

so dean and sam know the parallel universe contains familiar people, still alive (freakin’ bobby for instance)

but when they realise ketch doesn’t recognise them, why the heck don’t they even consider maybe he came through the rift

it’s not like it was ages ago

they lost their mother through that rift probably three or four weeks ago

wouldn’t they assume maybe there was more than one portal ??

-

04:50

“his twin”

right

-

04:56

ugh more fighting

i don’t wanna watch ‘cause lady angels are probably gonna die

man i hope cas would leave them alive after being told the angels are going extinct

angels fight to the death way too often

edit: ??????? nobody died???? i’m impressed

-

04:58

lucifer calls cas “cowboy”

mmmmmmmm that’s right

dean’s lil sheriff of heaven

-

05:01

lucifer: “meth-head kevin tran”

ah that explains the twitchiness

-

05:03

“agent russell”

as in kurt russell i assume

-

05:05

cas: “yesss i would like to see you too, the sooner the better”

cute

and awkward

-

05:09

asmodeus shows up

there’s so many characters in this story jeez

i have no idea how the casual viewer could keep up

-

05:16

whoa that ending was sudden

-

.................hrhghgh i dunno

i’m still of the opinion that one of this writing duo is better than the other

the scene with lucifer and cas in the bar was pretty well written

the plot reveal with ketch and rowena’s magically-undead spell made sense and was well-spread throughout the story, but i fail to see why ketch would tell the winchesters about it

i’m a lil :/ :/ :/ that ketch is back ‘cause dear god i thought we were rid of him already

where is mary??

everyone is so angry

i hope rowena is alive though

this was all a big jumble of plotlines and... to be fair it could’ve been a lot worse. the pacing wasn’t as messy as usual. for revealing a whole ton of info, it was pretty decent really

hmm 6.5/10 maybe

just cause it had almost none of the things i like watching, but it wasn’t necessarily bad...........

:/

MORE KEVIN PLEASE

[magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics]

Oh, Daddy Dear - Request

Requested by anon:  Sherlock x reader. The readers abusive father turns up at Baker Street, while sherlocks out on a case.

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Word count: 2.036

Warnings: Trigger warning: Abusive father, violence (pyshical, emotional, psychological), swearing.

A/N: I have to admit, I didn’t deepen on this subject because it is quite a sensitive spot and it’s hard to make it fit to everyone living this. Please, if you do have an abusive parent or are in an abusive relationship, DO NOT STAY ANY LONGER. Violence is not normal, it is not common, it is not good. You deserve better, don’t let them tell you otherwise, because you are worth it. Please, search for help, end that bond/relationship right away.  If you know someone in this situation, please help them. A wake up call, or an anonymous complaint with the authorities can change everything in ways you can never imagine.

Enjoy!

221B was usually silent when neither Sherlock nor Watson were there. Only Mrs Hudson vacuum cleaner could be heard from afar, as well as the noises of the street. Other than that, it was pure silence.

(Y/N) was there, trying to clean as much as possible before Sherlock got back from his case. She knew he loved his dust, so she kept it, but there were no rules about washing the dishes, sweeping and mopping the floor and fixing his desk.

She wasn’t a house wife, that was certain, but sometimes she enjoyed the idea of spoiling Sherlock a bit by helping him with the flat while, at the same time, letting Mrs Hudson get a well-deserved rest. After all, she was the land lady, not the house keeper and she shouldn’t clean Sherlock’s mess.

(Y/N) liked to clean for him every once in a while. It was worth it, for Sherlock would always thank her for her effort, kiss her forehead softly and offer to watch crappy telly together. It wasn’t much, but it was her special prize and she loved it.

Sherlock was the kindest man she had ever met. True, he could be an abusive prick very often, but he was gentle with her and he always treated her nicely. Their fights would consist in both of them arguing at very high volumes, but that was it; Sherlock had never been violent, or abusive with her.

He was the kind of man she wanted to find, and the opposite of the man she wanted to run away from.

The door opened. She was giving her back to it as she fixed Sherlock’s files. “Sher, you are early. How was it?”

Sherlock didn’t respond. It happened often, and (Y/N) knew how to handle it.

“Not good, I see,” she commented, “well, I’ll just finish this drawer and then we can…” She turned around and the papers on her hands fell off to the ground.

“We can do what?” The man asked. It wasn’t Sherlock, it was the devil. “Do what, whore?”

“What are you doing here?” She mumbled as she started trembling in fear.

She knew every bit of him. His angry frown, his mortal eyes, the rage he lived with… She knew how strong he could be when he was angry, or when she didn’t obey like a good child. She knew the feeling of his fist against her soft skin, and the many insult he had used in her for years.

“I was looking for you.” He said listlessly, “I knew you would end up living off someone else. You can’t sustain yourself.”

“I don’t live off of Sherlock.” She stated, trying to hide the tremble of her voice.

“I see, so you are the house maid, and you let him fuck you to earn more money. That is why you were cleaning…” He chuckled, walking closer to her with each word. She couldn’t step away.

“I’m not the house maid.” She whispered.

“I’m not impressed, you were never good for cleaning.” He spat, “You are just a whore, just like your mother.”

“Don’t get her into this.” She cried.

“I can do as I please.” He chuckled, “I am your father, after all.”

“Father is the one that loves and raises, not the one that insults and punches.” She hissed.

“Did your detective boyfriend learned you that?” He fumed and slapped her right in the face. His strength was such that she fell instantly to the floor.

He lifted her violently, using her hair to get a better grip and control. He threw her to the desk, she cried and begged for mercy but he wasn’t listening. His fists impacted her over and over again, not caring for where they landed and with what strength.

He was there to damage her, to finish the job he couldn’t finish earlier in her life.

To him, she was just a nuisance that ruined his life. If it weren’t for her he could have done so many things… And now she was being an obstacle to another man, depriving him from the total success. What a bitch.

“Taught.” A deep voice corrected suddenly. The man stopped, snapping his head towards the door where a tall man dressed in black stood.

“What?”

“It’s taught, not learned. I taught her that; also, no, I didn’t teach her that.” Sherlock spoke as he entered the room carefully so he wouldn’t trigger his, presumably, father-in-law.

“Sherlock Holmes, I suppose.” The man said. Sherlock hated him even more.

“I am.” Sherlock spoke, “Do you mind letting my fiancé go?”

“Fiancé? That is the biggest title this whore will get.” The man chuckled, “Nah, she is staying there, tamed like the animal she is.”

“She is not an animal,” Sherlock hissed. He was trying to stay calm for the sake of (Y/N)’s security.

“Says the man in the sissy trench coat,” Her father mocked, and Sherlock couldn’t help but to feel extremely offended. “Be a man for once, detective, fight for your slut; unless of course she doesn’t matter.”

“I am a gentleman, unlike other. I do not desire to recur to violence when we are both capable enough to solve this with words.” Sherlock stated.

“No wonder why he lets you here, slut.” Her father whispered, leaning down to be close to her ear. “A gay man needing for a beard.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. (Y/N), although subdued and pressed to the desk, could see his fists clenching. Sherlock was trying his best not to kill him.

“Gay? What an offense for a misogynistic cock that is simply jealous of women.” Sherlock started, “A man who suffered so much due to a strict mother that he knows gets off by taking control of every woman in his life, just so he can feel slightly empowered. Jealous of the many benefits it comes with being a woman, yet aware of the many more that comes with it as well. A spoiled brat in spite of it all, mommy dearest finally decided to be a kind mother and you take that for your advantage. Do everyone a favour and go find help; we don’t need more scumbag like you.”

“You know nothing about me.” The man hissed, and Sherlock smiled to the side.

“Don’t I?” And with that he started listing facts that nobody else knew but that Sherlock had deduced simply by looking at the man. His grip was tighter around (/N)’s hair, and Sherlock knew that but he needed more time to plan a strategy.

“You think you are clever?” (Y/N)’s father inquired as Sherlock finished, “Very poor muscles, and not enough strength compared to the bunch of shit that leaves your mouth. I will make you watch how I destroy her, and then I will destroy you too.”

“Destroy? You really do love objectification.” Sherlock commented, unaffected by his father-in-law’s threats. “Let’s play a game.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not silly, you are.”

A precise punch to the chest and another one to the small of his back, both at the same time. Then another one behind his neck, and a kick to the back of the knees. The man had let go off (Y/N)’s hair and she had instantly ran away to the kitchen, where she had left her phone.

Sherlock continued to punch, kick and pinch the man for a few more minutes before finally throwing him out of the window. (Y/N) gasped at the image.

“Oh sorry, you wanted to keep him alive?” Sherlock asked in true concern.

“No.”

“Excellent.” Sherlock smiled mischievously and left the room, sprinting downstairs to get the man back up.

The action was repeated many more times. (Y/N) had decided to call Lestrade after Sherlock was done, but not quite so her father was still alive enough to be punished for his actions. Her nose was bleeding, and her whole face was numb, as well as many other body parts; however, she was sucking it all up, not wanting to miss a single second of Sherlock getting her payback.

“Enough.” She commanded as Sherlock threw her father once again out of the window.

“As you wish.” Sherlock bowed and left to get the man back up. Sherlock made him lay on the floor as (Y/N) called Lestrade. “Are you OK?” The detective asked in a whisper as she hung up the phone.

“Yes.”

“Your nose is bleeding.” He commented and rushed to grab a clean cloth, dampened it a little and then used it to clean her. “I promise I will make him suffer.”

“More than what you already did?” She whispered.

“What I did was nothing compared to what I can do using Mycroft’s influence.” Sherlock promised, leaving a soft peck over her bruised cheek. “Nobody shall hurt you ever without me getting back at them.”

“This isn’t your fight, though.”

“But you are mine, and I am yours. We protect each other.” Sherlock stated softly.

The man started laughing. It was a dry, evil laughter. He spat blood on the recently mopped floor and looked straight into her eyes.

“He is using you, child.” He said, “He is buying you with kind words and fake promises… I always knew you were a cheap whore.”

“I will kill him.” Sherlock whispered.

“Not yet.”

“He doesn’t love you, no one can love you.” The man continued, “I always knew you were a waste of space, and now I confirm it.”

Just before Sherlock could actually try and kill his father-in-law, Lestrade bursted through the door, gun in hand and followed by a pair of his men.

The inspector searched for the criminal everywhere until his eyes landed on the ground. He sighed heavily, putting his gun down. “Sherlock, you can’t do this every time someone hurts Mrs Hudson or (Y/N).”

“As a matter of fact, I can, want to see?” Sherlock snapped sassily.

Lestrade shook his head and then they took the man away in an ambulance. The inspector promised to punish him like he deserved after he was mostly healed. Sherlock presumed that the man had at least five broken bones.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this.” Sherlock apologised after everyone else was gone.

“It’s not like I didn’t go through this many times in the past.” She chuckled sadly.

“When you moved here, I promised you I would never let him get back to you ever again,” Sherlock started, “and I failed…”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have gone after him.” Sherlock insisted, “Put him in jail rather than giving him a chance to sneak here to get you.”

“He would’ve found a way to torture me anyway.” She said, “Physical isn’t the only violence he knows.”

Sherlock nodded, although he wasn’t completely sure of her words. He guided her to the living room, making her sit on the leather couch before taking an ice out of the refrigerator and another cloth. He zipped his way back to her, and started pressing the ice to the already darkening bruises.

“I do love you, you know?” He commented listlessly.

“I know.” She whispered and Sherlock nodded. His icy blue eyes were focused on her injuries.

“I will never mistreat you.” He continued.

“I know.” She repeated.

“And I will never ever let anything happen to you, ever again.” He promised, putting the ice and the cloth on the coffee table. “You are too good, you do not deserve it.”

She smiled, full of gratefulness. “Look at you, becoming all soft…” She joked, trying to make him chill a bit – but he didn’t – he was dead serious.

“You are too important for me. I never want to see you like this, not anymore.” He said and then leaned closer to peck her lips. “I will never let anything happen to you again.”

“I know, I trust you.” She whispered, caressing his cold cheeks.

Sherlock leaned closer to her touch, not moving his eyes from hers. He didn’t have to say anything else to let her understand how true his feelings were. He was completely exposed to her in that moment, and vice versa.

“Want to watch crappy telly?” Sherlock asked softly after a while.

“I’d love to.”

Masterlist.

Forever Tags: @dekahg @myfriendmagislit Benedicto Cabbagepatch Tags: @newts-fan-case @resurrection-huntress Sherlock Tags: @oaisara @charlottemalfoy @zena-dukmak @just-a-blog00 @wefracturedmotivation @beccamullz @sugarshai @vancepter @roseyhxnt @thisisjessicatalking @foureyedsiopao @nicole-pierce @captain-sherlockomg @kissed-by-white-wolf @samanthasmileys @love-charmer-sketch @givemeamemoryicanuse @diesintheshower @demonminnion3 @thatmoodindigo @sexyporntime @jennajoseh @destiel5100 @peachyoshi64 @1enchantedfantasy1 @thesherlockblr @yehummno @jaspar-error404 @spaghettiicat

[judedoyle]

Basics

A lot of debate, in the past year or so, has come down to putting a label on people’s politics. So-and-so is A Liberal; thus-and-thus is A Leftist, or A Socialist. Mostly, this serves as a reason to dismiss somebody, whether or not they’re right — you would say that, you’re a liberal, or well, that’s just purity politics talking. But, as a feminist, it’s also my job to at least try to have solidarity with women who disagree with me. In the process of trying that, I realized I’d really never tried to write down a coherent description of my politics before. I’d called myself a “socialist” until maybe 2015, found myself called a “centrist” from 2015 through 2017, took a bunch of stupid political-compass tests where I always wound up on the same square as Jill Stein and/or anarchists (pretty far left, all the way at the bottom toward the “anti-authoritarian” end, to answer your burning question) and still really had no idea how to communicate where I stood or why I stood there in discussions with other women.  

Here, just because I imagine the question will come up again, is an attempt at a description of my politics — economic, identity-wise, role-of-Nazi-punching-wise, what have you. It’s not much, but as women increasingly have more good-faith arguments on the direction of our movements (which is lovely; I would rather do that than hear some man explain Why Identitarianism Is Ruining The Left any day of the week) it might give some grounds for an assessment of what I’m saying and why I’m saying it. I mean, assuming an “assessment” is the point, and not a Twitter fight — my optimism is boundless, I guess.

1) The center point of my political engagement, the thing everything else revolves around, is feminism — ending misogyny and default male power in America. I don’t think it’s inherently superior to any other locus; your activism could center queerness, black lives, economic inequality, and be just as meaningful, if not more so. But I choose feminism, because feminism chose me. By the time I left elementary school, I had seen two instances of near-fatal domestic violence within my immediate family. In one of them, a woman was shot in the spine and left paralyzed for life. I knew about other cases where women’s boyfriends or husbands controlled what they ate, or “accidentally” killed their pets. I knew two girls who had been raped by my sophomore year of high school, and that count only increased once I got to college. And, of course, I experienced my own share of violence. Basically, by the time I was sixteen, I knew I lived in a world that violently hated women — that hated us enough to kill us, and that did kill us more often than anyone wanted to admit. I have spent the rest of my life figuring out what to do about that. It’s what I care about, and I admittedly care about it more than anything else, including my own self-interest at times. You’re free to choose your focus. This is mine.

2) There is no useful feminism without intersectionality. In fact, feminism, arguably more than any other cause, is bound to intersectionality, just because every single group in the world has women in it. This makes it practically impossible to craft a universally true statement about “women,” or to issue a blanket call for “women’s solidarity.” Women will probably always have opposing interests, or disagreements, and (as long as we live in an oppressive society) some women will always be able to oppress or exploit other women. I’m pretty obviously a flawed vehicle for intersectional feminism, given that I’m white, and straight, and cisgender. So I try to stay educated about the interests and experiences of other women, to reflect on those in anything I write as best I can, and to keep those women in mind before assuming my own experience is universal. I try to fight for the interests of all marginalized groups — or at least to support fighters, where I’m not qualified to speak up myself — because all of that is essential to supporting women as a whole.

2a) One place where you might disagree with me: I do believe that even extremely privileged women experience misogyny. Misogyny is a structural factor that impacts women because they are women, and for no other reason; I also believe that misogyny alone can ruin or kill a woman, even if she has everything going for her. So I don’t necessarily view even very privileged women as “enemies” — any woman can, potentially, be enlisted to the cause — and I try to frame any criticism in a way that steers clear of misogynist tropes.

2b) Another place for good-faith disagreement: I believe that getting women and other marginalized people into positions of power has real, positive impact on its own. Of course, you have to take into account what those women believe — no-one is saying Sarah Palin or Ivanka Trump are feminist sheroes — but if a woman is reasonably progressive, she represents a concrete improvement over the white man who currently occupies that position. There are different value levels to this: Getting women into government is far more important than getting women into corporations. But giving women higher-paying jobs matters, too. Sexism, like everything else, is economic; the reason women face economic discrimination is the same reason that over 90% of all abusive relationships involve financial abuse, which is that patriarchy wants to instill dependence in women. Patriarchy wants to make it impossible for a woman to survive without a man’s patronage and approval, and thereby render those women passive, submissive, and (this is important) unable to resist violence or walk away, because they cannot survive outside of the relationship. Ideally, all women would have equal access to resources. In the meantime, women should be supported in building bases of economic power within the world we have.

3) And, speaking of economics: I believe that American socialism is the goal, but that it’s not exactly a short-term goal. Which is to say: Everything I’ve read suggests that structural and identity-based oppressions are in fact improved under socialism, because the marginalized have that base of economic power from which to resist their oppressors. And, in America, class is deeply tied to identity; poverty is reliably caused by bigotry, and fighting poverty therefore fights bigotry. Yet I’m skeptical about getting there quickly, and don’t think any of us should live as if “the revolution” is going to happen tomorrow, or in five years, or in ten. The nation that elected Reagan in a landslide within my lifetime, the nation that made George W. Bush a two-term President, the nation that recently elected Donald Trump, does not seem like a nation that’s going to turn into Scandinavia (or even Canada) before I turn 40. I think we are more likely to get there via a gradual leftward culture shift, and pragmatic policies aimed at increasing the social safety net in specific ways (like the FAMILY Act or Obamacare) than we are through one huge victory or grand deluge that changes everything.

4) And, speaking of the deluge: I would prefer my activism to remain as non-violent as possible for as long as possible. Yes, I know the state is violent — more violent than any black bloc or riot could be — and I know that intolerable conditions inevitably generate violence. Still, my activism has its roots in resisting violence, and in witnessing violence, so I can’t romanticize physical force easily. I think violence tends to generate chaos and harm as many innocent people as it helps, and I can’t participate gladly in hurting or killing people.

4a) I do, however, make a distinction between violence and self-defense. Edward Crawford is not “being violent” in this picture — he is throwing a weapon that was intended to harm him back to his attackers, sparing himself from their violence. A woman who speaks up about being raped, harassed or abused is not “being violent” if that man loses his job or goes to jail, nor is she “being violent” if, in a one-on-one confrontation, she fires a warning shot into the ceiling; she needs to get the abuser or harasser away from her, to stop him, and if he will not respond to requests, she will have to use force. Taking Milo’s check mark or book deal away is not an act of aggression. Nobody reasonable has a problem with Nazi-punching. I believe that the oppressed must sometimes use force to limit or contain the oppressor’s violence, basically. Where that fits into the greater picture of limiting or containing state violence, or of “revolution,” I don’t know, except that I don’t want to shoot people.

5) Because those most impacted by economic oppression are women, people of color, and other marginalized folks, any leftist movement should be led by women, people of color, and other marginalized folks. In many cases, like Black Lives Matter (which is largely led by women, including queer women) this is already the case. But if I look at a group of “leftists,” I should see mostly women — or, at least, 51% of the attendees should be women. The reasons for this are practical, not ideological. For example, I recently saw a leftist say they supported the “Norwegian model” for abortion. Norway limits abortion at thirteen weeks. This is before any substantive genetic testing to ensure the viability of the fetus can be done (even the most expensive cell-free fetal DNA testing, which is normally done at around ten weeks, would take a while to return results) let alone before the 20-week test when many fetal abnormalities are first detected. It’s eight weeks earlier than Donald Trump’s proposed 20-week limit, which is already barbaric. Norwegian women & trans people can theoretically get an abortion at up to 22 weeks (still only two more weeks than a ban endorsed by Donald Trump, for fucksakes) but they need the government’s permission, and doctors are allowed to flat-out refuse at any point in the pregnancy for reasons of “conscience” — not exactly “pro-choice.” This is a socialist paradise, and their abortion laws are worse than America’s. There are other instances of this, like the racism of the New Deal, which have been rehashed endlessly. In short: The reason for leadership by oppressed people is that, if your socialism or leftism doesn’t specifically take their concerns into account, it will end up specifically leaving them out.

6) There are also a lot of old-school, probably “liberal” values I hold dear: I think people have a god-given right to disagree with each other, or with The Movement. I ultimately believe in democracy, no matter how frustrating it gets. I believe that it must always be safe to note that the Emperor has no clothes — and it doesn’t matter who this week’s Emperor is, or how “progressive” he claims to be. Hate speech and abusive speech needs to be checked, but “unity” isn’t a positive goal if it means you’re not allowed to make your own choices or say what you think. 

7) But she voted for Hillary Clinton! Yes, I did. I grade a candidate on gender politics first (see Item #1) and didn’t much like those of her opponents. I also just like her, as a woman, for reasons I’ve gone on about before. But Hillary Clinton lost four months ago, and won’t run again, so she’s really not the most important part of my work to anyone except people who hate Hillary Clinton. More generally, I believe that voting for mainstream, left-of-center candidates in a general election is not incompatible with further-left activism. I think the two are interdependent. You vote for the candidate who has a chance of winning (which means taking into account all Democrats, not just your own stripe or social group), who will preserve gains rather than rolling them back, and who will be at least somewhat responsive to leftward pressure. Then you apply the pressure through protesting, marching, striking, and creating media and culture change. Some people understandably harbor anger toward those politicians (my husband is intense about Obama and drone strikes, for example) but I mostly don’t — they work in a system designed to limit them, and it’s our job to alter that system. Electing Clinton, or Obama, or whoever, isn’t the end goal of progressive politics. It’s the beginning, setting an acceptable battlefield in the ongoing work of activism — which belongs, not to our elected officials, but to us, and which will not end within our lifetimes.

Well, those are the basics. I imagine there are a thousand points I’ve left unaddressed. But this is the core of what I believe, so that we can argue about that, rather than someone else’s fevered imagination about what I believe, the next time we talk.