#but jodie deserved to pop up in a spin-off

[khruschevshoe]

The fact that BBC class never got a season 2 is my Roman empire and always will be. With that ending? With April becoming shadowkin? With the fallout between Charlie and Matteusz and all of Charlie's guilt over using the Cabinet of Souls and losing everything left of his people? The sudden change in dynamic between Ms. Quill and Charlie/Quill saving Charlie's life? Ram's reaction to April becoming Shadowkin? Tanya and Ram dealing with the ramifications of telling Charlie to use the Cabinet of Souls? The fact that they STILL HAVEN'T PROPERLY DEALT WITH THE FALLOUT FROM WHEN THEY WERE TRAPPED WITH THE PRISONER AND THE TRUTH-GUILT ROCK? Feral. Absolutely FERAL, I am telling you. I'm never getting over this. It's been seven years and I am still NOT OVER IT

[elliesgaymachete]

After taking time to process—some thoughts on the power of the Doctor.

There were things I didn’t like and things I liked, but overall I enjoyed it. It really felt like a love letter to the Doctor’s companions in general (with Yaz being the focus of course) and I loved that! Especially after the last few two specials where basically all Yaz did was follow around the Doctor like a puppy, it was nice to see her as an active character and taking control of the narrative! Honestly before this she was tied with Rose and Donna as favorite companions, but this episode definitely solidified her place as my Favorite companion. I adore Yaz, I adore Mandip Gill, and this episode really gave her the chance to shine that she deserves.

On another hand, for this being Jodie’s send-off episode, it felt like there wasn’t a lot of focus on her, which was a little disappointing. The forced regeneration was interesting and really allowed Yaz to step into that role that I loved so much, but it felt like there just wasn’t much of the Doctor for like a third of the episode. In general, not a bad thing because I love what it allowed them to do! But just a little bit disappointing for Jodie’s send-off. I think the best part for the Doctor in this last episode was literally the very end after Yaz gets her back. Saving the day with her mental checklist, getting saved and embraced by her “extended fam” (literally right before she said that I said out loud “if she says fam I’m going to cry” and then she did and I cried)

I did think the conclusions for Thirteen and Yaz as individual characters was incredibly satisfying (not to mention, Thirteen is survived by All of her companions, safe and sound), but their emotional journey together felt unsatisfying and unresolved. I wasn’t expecting a kiss or anything (though it was difficult not to expect it when they look at each other like That), but with all the build up and press about their love for each other, I was expecting at least one more conversation after the beach. Yaz still never really got to say her piece which bothers me, and even if it still ended up with “we care about each other but we can’t do this”, they spent so much time dancing around their feelings and not saying exactly how they feel, I still think they deserved at least a quick moment to say exactly how they felt about each other. Even “I have loved being with you” still felt like it was avoiding the exact topic

The “let’s not say goodbye” did make it feel a little intentional that they left it unresolved, but just because it was intentional doesn’t mean it’s satisfying. Overall I loved all the thasmin content in the episode, and you could see just how much they love each other without them having to say it (props to Jodie and Mandip for that) but it still left me wishing they had just said a little more.

I also think the episode really paved the way to set up some amazing possibilities for the future of the show. De-regeneration? Potentially seeing other old and beloved doctors again? Surviving companions meeting each other and talking about their time with the Doctor? Kate wanting to recruit them? Give me a UNIT spin off starring Kate Stewart and Yasmin Khan please and thank you

Even though I wanted more Thirteen in the episode, I did feel this ending really encapsulated her character so well. She’s always had a crowded TARDIS, it’s been implied that when she drops off her companions sometimes she just pops ahead a week or so to pick them up again. She’s lonely, she wants companionship, so seeing all of her friends who love her come together and save her? Thirteen died knowing just how loved she was and I think that was beautiful.

And I know some people complained about her Doctor send off speech and last words, but Thirteen has always been one to mask her sadness and fear in joy and playfulness. “Doctor-whoever-I’m-about-to-be…tag, you’re it” perfectly captured that aspect of her character.

there were a lot of things I wished for more and unsatisfying moments in the episode, but overall as a Doctor Who fan, I really enjoyed it

[no-whump-on-main]

Apartment 307-8 (Grabbed by the hair)

Hi guys!! I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. School and work have been crazy but luckily I'm out of school next week so I'll have much more time and be posting more frequently! Apologies for the short chapter, I have no idea why but it just kicked my butt lol. I tried doing some cool multimedia stuff, I hope you enjoy! This is @sableflynn's BTHB request, grabbed by the hair.

TWs: Creepy, possessive whumper, mention of branding, also this chapter made me sad bc I love my mom and Elora's mom is sad so warning for that lmao

Elora was still lying there crying hours later. The tears had slowed from her initial keening sobs, but they still fell steadily down her face, accumulating in a small puddle on the tile by her head. She could see a bit of her reflection in the salty water; just her eyes, mostly. She saw green eyes that had once been so full of hope and life that were fading, the slow abandonment of hope almost making them gray out. She wanted to lie there forever, staring into her own eyes, until oblivion took her. If she cleared her head enough, she could pretend she was elsewhere, somewhere warm and loving; the blanket draped over her body did help with the fantasy, though she always knew somewhere in the back of her head that it was just that: a fantasy. She was still here. With him.

Clyde tried to give her time to recover, but his patience wore eventually. He began to get antsy after a few hours of watching her lie there, doing nothing but cry. Admittedly, he did enjoy it at first-seeing her so weak, so docile, because of him-but it eventually grew tiresome. Watching each tear drip down into the puddle became like watching paint dry.

He stood up abruptly. Elora was startled by the motion, flinching before stilling and watching him very carefully. What was he going to do?

“Get up,” he said simply.

Elora froze. She still felt sick, dizzy with pain and the lingering scent of her burning flesh in the bathroom. But why would he care about that? Why should she disobey him, when she knew what would happen?

Yet pride and pain got the better of her again.

“I can’t,” she whimpered. She felt weak. “I hurt. You hurt me.”

The piercing sound of a loud, sudden laugh began to echo through the bathroom. It reminded Elora of the laugh of a hyena. She winced.

“Darling, did you not think that was the point?”

Her expression hardened and her heart thumped in her chest. That was the point. She wanted to say something, but her mouth suddenly got dry.

The man simply grinned. “Get up,” he repeated, but she didn’t. She just laid there, dumbfounded.

He groaned angrily, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Be that way.”

He gathered up her hair in his hand, locked his fingers in a tight fist, and pulled up. Elora yelped and scrambled to get to her feet to relieve the pain, but he didn’t give her the chance; he carelessly dragged her off, out of the bathroom, through the hallway, and into the living room. She screamed and thrashed wildly, her hands desperately trying to push him away as her scalp burned like fire. Again and again, her feet scraped the ground to no avail, kicking and kicking but never able to gain enough traction to stand as she was mercilessly dragged. The man finally dropped her on the floor at the foot of a worn leather couch, releasing his death grip on her hair. Her hands immediately flew up to her head, applying gentle pressure to her scalp to try to ease the burning pain as she looked around the new room.

The living room was barren, like the man had half moved into it then given up. There was a dusty box in the corner, the couch, a worn coffee table, a small stand, and an old TV. Other than that, it was empty, in an eerie way. The aged carpet spanned the floor like an ocean.

The pressure didn’t do much and Elora dropped her hands, still wincing as the man plopped himself on the couch behind her, the leather making a loud crackling noise as he sat. She whipped her head around as her shoulders raised up to her ears instinctively. The man made a sour face, his features twisting into an ugly frown.

“Relax,” he commanded, forcefully pushing her shoulders down. At first, she tried to wiggle away, but that idea was abandoned when he tightened his grip, clearly as a warning. He grabbed the TV remote from the arm of the couch and turned it on. It started on some history channel documentary about cars, but Clyde quickly flipped through channels until he found the local news station.

A grin spread across his face as he read the blue banner spanning across the bottom of the screen. They were just in time.

UP NEXT: CAPE COD GIRL GOES MISSING; DESPERATE MOTHER PLEADS FOR HER RETURN

His hands wandered to Elora’s scalp and began to gently card through her hair. She inhaled sharply, and it took everything she had in her not to immediately shove him off. Somehow the gentleness felt worse than the pain; the false sense of care disgusted her. He was a maniac. He hurt her, he branded her, and now he was sitting on the couch petting her hair, pretending like none of it happened. It didn’t escape her attention how he set her on the floor instead of the couch, below him, like a dog.

The banner was bad enough, but she felt sick to her stomach when the station cut to a reporter sitting at a desk with a picture of her on half of the screen. It was the picture her mom took of her at the orchard last fall. It was candid; she remembered it. She was intently focused on a butterfly off on a tree, ignoring her mom as she snapped the photo. It was one of her favorite pictures of herself. And now, it was plastered all over the news.

The reporter on the TV began to speak. “Tonight, a desperate mother pleads for her missing daughter’s safe return. Elora Larkin, nineteen, of Barnstable county, Massachusetts has been missing since Friday night. She was last seen walking home from her job at Agathangelou’s bakery, wearing khakis, a black t-shirt, and black sneakers. The police have opened a tip line and are offering an unspecified reward for any information that leads to Miss Larkin.”

Elora felt a lurching sensation in her stomach, so visceral she wanted to throw up. That was her. On the news. Gone. Missing.

Behind her, the man chuckled.

“Look at that, baby. You’re all over New England.”

“I’m not your baby,” she snapped, turning around. But her head was spinning. All over New England? It wasn’t the Cape Cod news station on the TV. It wasn’t even a state news channel. It was entirely unfamiliar, the reporter’s face one she’d never seen.. So he’d taken her across state lines, making her chances of being found lower yet.

The man shushed her and put a finger up to her lips. “Watch.” She almost bit him, but decided it wasn’t worth the inevitable punishment that would follow. Besides, they might say something useful, something that could help her. She needed to pay attention.

The screen changed, and a missing persons poster popped up. Hers.

It was up for a minute before it faded away as the reporter came back on the screen.

“Such a sad story. Everyone in the studio is hoping and praying for her safe return. Unfortunately, vigilance is so important in this day and age. Up next, we have a recording of a press conference with the girl’s mother.

The girl’s mother. Her mother. Elora felt her heartbeat thumping in her chest.

And there she was. Jodie was standing at a podium in a building that had to be a police station. Demetrios was standing by her side, offering support by merely being present. While Elora hadn’t seen him cry even once in all the years she’d known him, he now looked like he was on the verge of tears.

Her mom started to speak. She looked so sad. Withered, like the life had been sucked out of her, from fear and overthinking and sleepless nights.

“My daughter-My daughter Elora has been missing since Friday night. She’s got-she’s got blonde hair, and green eyes, and she’s real tall. I’m sure pictures have gone around by now. She was walking home from work and-and then she disappeared. We were supposed to have dinner Sunday and she never came. It was supposed to be her weekend off. I- If someone has her, please, I’m begging you, let her go. Bring her home safe. She’s a good kid, she works hard, she rescues cats in her spare time...she doesn’t deserve this. And Elora, if you’re seeing this, I love you. I love you so much, honey. If you chose to leave, please just tell us you’re okay. It’s okay. You can go see the world, just tell us you’re okay. And if something-something bad happened, we’re gonna find you. I promise, baby, I love you and we’re gonna bring you home. Promise.”

At that point, she set the microphone down and began to cry, tears streaming down her face as she hurried off to an exit, the cameras following her for a few moments. Elora’s heart twisted in knots. Seeing her mom’s face brought her so much joy, yet knowing how worried she had to be made her feel sick with guilt.

But she promised. She promised she’d find her.

“That your mom?”

Elora stilled. He already knew the answer.

"She’s kinda pathetic. Could barely keep it together long enough to tell them about you.”

She went cold. “Stop,” she seethed. Her voice was eerily calm, given her anger.

"Or what?” he replied, twisting her hair up in his hand and giving it another tug.

Elora was silent. There was no or what. She knew that.

The reporter came back on the screen.

“Well, folks, that’s all we have on the case for tonight. Remember to be safe and vigilant. This has been Hannah Brown with News12.”

The man released her hair, picked up the remote, and turned off the T.V.

“Notice how they only talked about you, not me?”

Elora turned her head around. She was crying.

“What?”

He scoffed. “I said, notice how they only ran their mouths about you the whole time. Never said a word about me. You know what that means? They don’t know jack shit about me. They don’t know who you’re with or where you are. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but we’re in Connecticut. We crossed state lines twice. They’re never going to find you, you know that?

She tried to hide it, but he could see her expression falling with every word he said, hope beginning to seep out of her. She shook her head vigorously, her bottom lip trembling.

“N-no! No, they will, you’re just crazy! You’re just fucking crazy!”

A scowl formed on his lips. “No, they won’t.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but in a split second, his hand was gripping tightly around her throat, cutting off her air. Her eyes went wide.

“No one is coming to save you.”

Elora swallowed, fear bright in her eyes. She tried to rip herself away, but the man raked his fingers across the fresh brand on her collarbone, sending her to the ground, keeling in pain.

“We could’ve had a nice evening if you behaved. Listened,” he grumbled, standing and once again grabbing her hair tightly before dragging her off towards the bathroom.

Tags: @exploringspaceinpyjamas @all-whumped-out @badthingshappenbingo

[thisbisexualbrainrot]

15x20: Soft Epilogue

Here I go writing fix it fic again. It’s almost 2am and I couldnt sleep until I posted it. I hope its enjoyable. Definitely fluff and a little angst thrown in as well. The soft epilogue with happy endings that Sam and Dean deserved. I didnt get a good place to mention this in the fic, but I believe Sam and Eileen would have rebuilt the American Men of Letters together. :)  _________________

Sunlight glinted against the black impala as she flew down the back country road. It was midday and the air was warm. Turns out when you are fighting for your life, you forget to pay attention to the seasons change. Sam was grateful they could pay attention to that now. 

He checked his phone again. No response yet. Where is she? 

“Hey um... Eileen hasn't called me yet and she's not answering. Do you think she didn't come back?” Sam asked, glancing over at Dean who was tapping his hand on the wheel. 

“Jack wouldn't do that, he would bring her back with everyone else. It's okay Sammy. She'll be there.” Dean assured him, he gave Sam a smirk and looked back at the road. “She probably just doesn't have a phone remember?” 

“Yeah, you're right.” Sam sighed, running his hand through his hair. She has to be there. Dean noticed Sam fidgeting and stepped on the gas.

In the backseat, Miracle barked in approval. 

Before Dean even had the car in park, Sam opened the passenger door and ran up to Eileen's door. Dean chuckled as he watched Sam bound up and the front door opened quickly. Eileen ran out to meet him and the two crashed into each other. Smiles, kisses, laughter. Good Dean thought Sammys happy. For the first time, Dean isn't worried about his little brother anymore. They changed the world, for good, and now Sam has a real chance for a real relationship. Eileen is good for him. 

Eventually Dean got out of the car, Eileen gave him a hug and signed while saying “Thank you.”

Dean looked at Sam, who hadn’t stopped grinning ear to ear, and smirked “Yeah well, now he's your problem.” “Yeah okay” Sam laughed. “I’ll call you later”. Eileen wrapped her arm around Sam’s waist and Dean was confident he wouldn’t be hearing from his brother for a while. 

“Yeah yeah” Dean smiled, “You kids have fun.” 

“I'm 37, Dean.” 

Dean gave them a shit eating grin and slid into the impala “I'm gonna go check on Jody and the girls. Apparently Claire is really pissed she got zapped and missed everything. She keeps texting me.” 

Dean put the car in reverse and he noticed Eileen jump into Sam's arms and kiss him as the car pulled away. Deans phone was laying on the passenger seat and it vibrated with another text from Claire: 

How is Cas? Is he with you? 

---

The lights flickered on in the bunker as Dean walked in with Miracle at his heels and he shut the heavy door behind them. The emptiness of it felt especially loud as he had spent the last few days sleeping on Jody’s couch in a house full of teenagers. 

He sighed as he remembered telling them about Cas. He couldn't meet Jody’s eye the entire time. He kept it simple, just told them what he had told Sam and Jack: 

Cas summoned the empty. 

Cas saved him. 

Cas was gone.  

Claire especially didn't take it well and the first night she fell asleep leaning on Dean's shoulder in front of the TV. Kaia came downstairs and Dean woke Claire up long enough for her to let Kaia lead her up to their room. 

Poor kid he thought as he picked up the decanter and filled his glass. He had gotten a text from Sam: 

Going on a trip with Eileen actually. We thought some time away might help us find normal again, if that's even possible. Call you later? 

Dean sent a short response telling Sam that was fine and tossed his phone on the library table.

What to do now? 

The whole world was open, skys the limit. For the first time he had no one to protect, no world to save, no monsters to hunt...just his own thoughts in an empty bunker. Well, except for his dog curled up next to his feet. It was terrifying and Dean found himself pounding down whiskey a lot faster than he intended. 

A few glasses in and he started praying. 

“Cas…” he whispered to the silence “Cas..I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” Dean felt his eyes fill with tears. “Cas...why didn't you tell me before...”

“Dean” 

Dean's head shot up. He must have really drank way too much because there was absolutely no way this was real. But there Jack was, standing in front of him with the same white jacket, same innocent smile on his face. 

“Hello” he said, raising his hand. “I'm here for your advice.” 

He said it so sincerely, Dean couldn't help but let out a sad, drunk laugh. His body relaxed a little and he looked up at him. “Man you can't just pop in- I mean you can it's just….Jack, I'm not in the place to be givin’ you advice anymore alright? Besides, I thought you were going to be all hands off?” 

“I am, mostly. I think. I don't really know, I'm still figuring it out. Amara is helping me.” Jack waited patiently while Dean’s intoxicated mind took in this information. 

“Alright” Dean stood up and leaned against the table, his arms crossed. Strangely, talking to Jack as whatever he was, was easier than he thought. He missed this. “What’s going on kid?”  

Jack nodded at Dean’s approval to ask. “I want to take Cas out of the empty but Amara said I should ask you.” 

Dean froze. His mouth went dry. Cas. “So you- you can get him out?”

“Yes, it seems quite possible. Chuck showed me how in his memories. He was able to pull Lucifer out and Amara told me it should work for Cas as well.” 

Dean's head was spinning. “I..um well, why are you asking me then?” 

“You are very important to him Dean.” Jack said with such firm resolve, “If you think this is a bad idea, I will respect that. Amara said it should be up to you.” 

Dean's heart leaped at the thought of seeing Cas again. Panic mixed with pure elation. He was terrified but of course the answer was obvious. “Yeah..” Dean whispered. “Yeah” he repeated louder, clearing his throat “Yeah, Bring him back.” Dean swallowed and looked at the floor. His mind desperately trying to understand that this was happening, this was real. Cas.

Jack smiled “That's what I told her you would say. Thank you Dean. Give me a moment.” and disappeared. The silence was deafening and then Dean heard his phone vibrate. He spun around and almost fell over a chair getting to where it laid abandoned on the table. “...Cas?” 

“No, Dean it's Sam. Are you okay?” “Sammy I um....” Dean couldn't find the words “Jack, he was here.” 

“What? Dean what's going on?” 

“He-...” And then Miracle started barking and Dean let his phone drop to the floor.

“Hello Dean”

He was standing a few feet away, this couldnt be real.  “...Cas I..” Dean started but he lost the ability to speak. He was really there. Rumpled trench coat, crooked tie, tousled hair and bright blue eyes. Dean tried to speak again. Why couldn't he say anything else? Too drunk, too stunned and too afraid to move. Damn it. “Cas...you’re here.”

“Yes” Cas smiled “I'm here.” Dean sensed a nervous caution in his voice. “It's good to see you Dean.” “Cas, what the hell were you thinking?” Dean’s voice was low and Cas furrowed his brow.

“I was protecting you.” 

Dean shook his head like he didn't want to hear it. Like he wouldn't accept that as a reason.

“Dean, BIllie would have killed us. You know that. The world needed you alive Dean. I needed you alive.” Cas paused and met Deans’ gaze again. “It was more important to make sure you were safe.” 

Dean pursed his lips and closed his eyes in frustration. “Im sorry, more important?” Dean looked at Cas again,  “No. You don't get to dip out. You should have told me about that deal! I could have helped you! I could have-... Damn it Cas!” Dean slammed the chair next to him and heard it clatter on the floor. 

“Dean I did what I needed to do. And I don’t regret any of it.” Cas let his voice raise a little in responsive anger but he chose his next words carefully, “I don't regret what I said and I don't regret saving your life.” Despite Dean's outward display of anger, Cas knew Dean was reacting out of love. This anger was misplaced guilt. “You owe me nothing Dean. None of this was your fault.” 

Dean was just drunk enough that he faltered, his voice breaking as he said “Cas, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry Cas..I didn't stop you...I couldn't tell you...” 

Cas moved toward him then, reaching a hand to wipe away the tears Dean didn't realize were falling down his face. Dean could feel his heart aching against his ribs. How did he tell him that images of that moment came back to him every night, swallowed up in black? Cas crying, Dean reaching, Cas disappearing. Over and over they haunted him.

Cas lifted his hand away but felt Deans rough fingers stop him, holding his hand in place. “Cas….Tell me again. What you said..please..”

“Dean...” 

“No I..” Dean breathed out “I need to hear it Cas. Please tell me again.” 

Cas brought his head closer to rest on Dean’s forehead, closing his eyes. Dean lowered their hands, still grasping on in desperation. Cas could feel Dean shaking as he moved closer to him. Dean let his eyes flutter closed when he felt Cas rest against him. After a moment of silence, Cas said in a quiet voice “I love you Dean.” 

Dean wasn't sure if it was the whiskey or the feeling of Cas’s skin, warm and real against his face.Maybe it was just the pure joy that Cas was here or the relief that he would never leave him again. But he needed more, he needed to feel Cas. He needed to touch him. He moved in slowly, brushing their noses together. Cas’s breath staggered as he let Dean make the decision. Dean grazed his lips along the angels mouth and everything felt warm. The kiss was soft and cautious. Dean moved his mouth slowly, carefully and Cas leaned in slightly, letting Dean set the pace. And then, realization. 

Oh. Oh.

The energy changed and Cas felt Dean’s kiss deepen, his hand reaching up to wind fingers into Cas’s hair. And it was then that Cas allowed himself to grab onto Dean, pulling him in by his flannel. He breathed in Dean's scent, pine mixed with bourbon and aftershave and Dean let his other hand up to rest on Cas’s neck. He could feel the angel’s pulse racing as he pulled back to look at him. “This is...okay right?” 

“Yes” Cas breathed, and immediately pulled Dean in again. 

---

When Sam walked into the bunker he noticed the lights were on and a chair was toppled over in the library. Deans phone on the floor. But he didn't see anyone. “Dean?” 

Eileen followed after him, calling out for Dean. Sam ran to Dean’s room and when Eileen followed, Sam stopped her before she called out for Dean again. He gestured into the room. “Look” he signed to her. 

Dean was sleeping, his head resting on Castiel’s chest. Miracle was curled up at the bottom of the bed, her head resting on Dean's leg. Sam noticed Cas, in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt, calmly placing his fingers on Dean's temple. A pale blue glow kept Dean’s dreams peaceful and Cas ran his fingers through short hair as his hunter slept soundly. 

 “Cas?” Sam whispered, in disbelief that the angel was alive. Cas gently slid out from under Dean and moved to the door, shutting it carefully behind him.

 Sam smiled “It's so good to see you Cas.” He pulled the angel into a hug. “I thought you were in the empty. How are you here?” 

“Jack,” Cas smiled “He brought me back” Cas looked back toward the bedroom.”Dean and I have been...catching up.” 

Sam smiled and let out a short laugh “Yeah I can see that.” 

“I love him Sam” 

“I know you do. I never wanted to push him but I knew.” Sam let out a breathy laugh and ran his hands through his hair. “Wow I cant believe Dean finally figured it out. I can't believe this is really happening. What are you going to do now?” 

“Whatever makes Dean happy.” Cas said, so matter of factly that Sam shook his head in pure amazement and laughed again.

---

It was a small outdoor ceremony, but Sam and Eileen couldn't have been happier. Dean beamed with pride standing next to Sam, his tux pressed and black shoes shined. They held the reception in Jody's backyard, string lights and cheap alcohol. It was perfect.

Cas walked into the kitchen, slightly intoxicated and saw Claire sitting on the counter rubbing her feet “I hate heels.” 

“They do look very uncomfortable,” Cas replied. “These suits are restricting as well. My neck is very itchy.” 

Claire beckoned Cas over and loosened his bowtie. “You don't really need it all the way on anymore. Ceremony is over.” She smiled, “Your boyfriend took his off hours ago I bet.” 

Cas never will be used to hearing Dean referred to in that way. “Where is he?” 

“I think he’s out front on the porch.” She said, jumping off the counter barefoot and walking back out into the yard to find Kaia for a dance. She popped her head back inside “Oh hey, tell him I can work that Sunday shift he asked about okay?” Cas nodded and Claire spun around and headed to the dance floor. 

Cas walked out onto the porch to find Dean. The night air was cool and crickets chirped loudly in the fields. As Claire had suspected, Dean’s tie was long gone. His dress shirt was unbuttoned enough to reveal the t-shirt underneath, and to see the necklace filled with Castiel’s grace glowing on his chest. He took another drink from his beer and looked up. “Heya Cas.”

“Hello Dean.” He paused and then remembered “Claire said she can work the Sunday shift.” 

“Ah, good. That kid is killing me. That's what I get for owning a bar, I guess. I’m a freakin boss now.” He laughed to himself, “It still feels weird to say it. Like I'm gonna mess it up.” 

“You’ve earned it, and you certainly are not messing it up.” Cas sat down next to him and smiled as Dean wrapped his arm around him, “How are you Dean?” 

“Eh, I'm fine.” Dean looked down, picking at the label of his beer. “Sammy seems happy, huh?”

“Yes, he does.” Cas reached out and pulled Dean’s hand away from his nervous movement, entwining their fingers together. “He's going to be fine.” 

“I know.” Dean says, squeezing Cas’s hand. “I just hate that he doesn't need me anymore.” 

“That's not true, he’ll always need you.” Cas reassured him. Dean leaned over and kissed Cas, gazing at him for a moment before saying “I love you, you know that right?” 

“I know,” Cas replied, “I love you too.” It didn't matter that they had been together for over a year, 6 months since Cas had made the choice to be human, it still made Cas shiver to hear Dean tell him he loved him.  

“You sure you don’t regret giving me this?” He holds up the glowing grace pendant. Cas shakes his head “No, not once.” and Dean pulls him in for another kiss. 

Jack watches from afar, a smile on his face. 

The sounds of the party last long into the night. 

[dingobait]

SPN 15x20 - rewrite script notes ‘Carry On’

SPN 15x20 - rewrite.  

Saving Cas from the empty is the only thing left for Dean and Sam to do. 

2735 words: script notes- Destiel, Fixit, Happy, All the gangs here to help saving Cas. Half Ficlet / half mad writings of a grieving Fan requiring happiness and true love and closure- gonna use this as the starting point for some writing practice and probs eventually write a fan / spec script.

* 

Id start it with Dean on the road, fuming and stewing over his grief for Cas. Ignoring Sams calls. Maybe a moment where he hesitates near the trunk of the Impala when Sam comes out of the bunker to be like ‘Dude?! Stop ignoring me!’ And Dean guiltily hides what will later be revealed as Cas’ coat.

All the alternate world hunters are staying in the bunker and established as being back. They’re reorganising, gathering info figuring out what’s changed in this new world post dusting. Sam can’t keep his eyes off Eileen as she works. He keeps getting distracted and almost missing the table when trying to put down his coffee mug. Not wanting to miss a word she signs. She gives his wrist a gentle squeeze when she moves past him, signing that ‘She’s not going anywhere, Promise’.  

The bunker is too crowded for Dean, too noisy, he gets busted sitting in Cas’ room, holding the mixtape between his hands.

Sam and he talk about feelings, well they talk around feelings at least. The ‘I love you’ confession will be saved for the very end for Cas’ ears only.

Our inciting incident of the episode starts off screen. Deans choking on his words about missing Cas, Sam amazed at how many words he’s finally coaxed out of his brother- and then from the other room there’s shouts of shock and alarm- there’s a dark smear growing in the air of the main room of the bunker. And for a brief moment a face struggles to push itself out of the muck-  Dean and Sam arrive in the room just as the goo shimmers like oil vapours in the air and disappears. Cas? Deans afraid to voice it aloud but Charlie beats him to it. Sams nodding. Freaked out. Everyone agrees it looked like Cas.

They have a smear of the Empty left behind to work with. And A room full of witnesses who all want to help.

Jack shows up saying ‘so sorry I can’t play favourites’ while clearly playing favourites and guiding them to the book that contains the magical solution they need (ala Cas’ telling Dean about the arch angel attached to the profit Chuck in season four, ‘so sad I can’t help WINK if only I could ‘continues to give gives blatant info haha)

For the first step of the spell, we’d need a psychic to establish a tether to the Cas in the empty, we’d have to go and check in on the Wayward Sisters to ask for Missouris’ granddaughters help. We’d see Kia and Claire together as a couple, and Sam would catch Dean looking at them trying to hide how happy they are in the face of Deans misery.

Patience needs something of Cas’ to create a tether, Sam freaks that they don’t have anything with them and Dean has to clear his throat twice to get the words out that he does.

He retrieves the trench coat from the trunk. (Or maybe his own jacket with the bloody handprint still on its shoulder-  Sam’s all ’ew dean you still haven’t washed this?!’)

The first part of the spells in place. Patience says something cryptic to Dean as she hands back the trenchcoat, his grip is perhaps a bit too tight to be read as anything but casual. Jodys attempt at getting Dean to open up is less subtle, everyone’s trying to get Dean to admit If he’s okay or hurting or something worse.

‘You’ve gotta talk about it eventually’, but Sam can see the explosion building in Dean, but then it’s an implosion as instead of getting mad Dean just shuts down, shoulders caving in,  and Dean just has to go

‘Pick you up later Sammy’ and he’s out the door.

We finally see the tears once he’s alone in the car

Driving, he almost hits the smear of black ooze absorbing the glow of the impalas headlights growing in the middle of the road, he skids and frames the scene with the headlights, jumping out of the car as Cas tries once again to pull himself from the empty, this time the oil parts slightly and Cas’ hands push through, Dean sprints forward, and almost has Cas’ hand tightly in his own before the oozey hole in the universe blinks back closed.

Jack will pop in briefly, commenting about how how well the first part of the spell worked with Patience’s help. He’d plant another hint about the next step of the spell, and Dean would sheepishly head back to pick up Sam to tell him the news.

Together the whole gang discuss the case over a family dinner, food everywhere, no more emotional pushing from anyone, Dean’s allowed to stay quiet and is offered additional serves as everyone brainstorms how to interpret / fulfil the next step of the spell to save Cas.

Sam quietly checks in with Dean, elbowing him as Jody and Donna and the girls talk at the other end of the table. Sam assures Dean that everyone didn’t mean to freak him out earlier and Dean cuts him off.

‘I think I needed the reminder that we’re in this together’ he admits.

Sam agrees, ‘You’re not the only one who wants Cas back Dean.’

With Charlie’s remote hacking help, we find the location of next relic we need / the next spell component. We see Stevie helping with the research, we see Bobby breaking a code and Garth adding some new piece of lore that’s vital to the puzzle.

We have a classic heist sequence with Dean and Sam doing what they do best, breaking into places to steal shit from museums. It’s dope, music sequences and everything ending with Dean almost tripping a lasor sensor before Sam pulls him back at the last moment. Dean thought he saw another hint of Black ooze and drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

Later on the side of the road and with the first hint of hope /excitement from Dean, we preform the next part of the spell.

Almost instantly, another black ooze rifts appears, Cas struggles to pull himself free, but this time Sam and Dean manage to grab his arms together, they pull with all their might, the ooze is retreating back from Cas’ shoulders, neck, and slowly his face, and we finally see the fight in his blue eyes, the desperate hope, struggling to get back to our world.

Dean and Cas make eye contact, Deans grip on his arm turns bone tight- but the ooze is reclaiming Cas’ throat, cutting off his attempt at Deans name. A deep voice rumbles from beyond the rift ’I said forever!’- and SNAP! The ooze rift slams back shut. And dean and Sam are left sprawling on the ground.

Deans hands close on handfuls of dirt and grass, and then Jack appears. Jolly and smiling.

‘That was very close! I almost thought you wouldn’t need the final spell component!’

‘A rare dagger and one other other thing is required to walk through the Empty unscathed.’ Jack hands the the dagger to Dean. He weighs the stone dagger in his hand.

‘Whats the other requirement?’  

’Love willingly given’ Jack tells him and Dean gives a wobbly grin and just nods and opens his mouth to say something but Jack shakes his head, ‘no, I’m not the one who needs to hear it’.

Sam thanks Jack for his help making things right as Dean walks back to where the oozey tear appeared. He clears his throat, once twice, gripping the ancient dagger in his hands. He turns back to Sam and Jack who confer back and forth, Jack looks over and just nods back towards the afflicted space, a ‘go on you can do it’ but they both give Dean his space.

Dean flips the dagger about, changing the grip with finesse and gathers himself. He stares at the point in space that had so recently held Cas.

‘We’re not done yet’ Dean finally admits as he stabs the dagger into the air and slices through universe, the dagger vibrates in his hands, the rift trying to resist, but Dean leans into it, whispering

‘it’s my turn to save your, ass you ass’ and the dagger slices clean through the worlds.

Dean steps through the door he’s created, the void empty sans his own reflection beneath him, but the daggers glowing in his hand now, a beacon that grows hot and cold as he waves it before him. Dean follows the bacon of light, and meets Cas half way, the angel is struggling against the ooze at a snails pace, drowning in the thick liquid and Dean grabs his shoulder and heaves, using the dagger to hack at the muck, and then Cas is falling into him and this time Dean drags Cas through the darkness, a perfect reproduction of Cas herding Dean through the halls of the Bunker when Billie came after them, but now Dean’s the one to throw Cas to safety through the door before leaping through it just a footfall behind him.

And they land in a tangle of limbs in the grass on the side of the highway with Jack and Sam watching on.

‘Ow’ Cas says in his familiar deep rumble. Dean chokes back a half gasped laugh as he lifts himself of Cas’ chest, but then - movement from the corner of his eye. He spins, blade in hand.

An arm of ooze streaks out towards Cas, greedy and grasping but Dean cleaves it in two before stabbing the dagger into the ground at the base of the rift. The rift blinks out of existence and we’re left alone on the side of the road.

Cas lays on his back, blinking up at the night sky. ‘So It worked?’ Dean looks down at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a clumsy seated embrace, Dean buries his face in Cas’ shoulder.

‘Hello Dean’ he says warmly. Dean gasp laughs into Cas’ shirt collar.

’You can have it. You’ve always had it.’ He whispers the words into Cas’ neck who stiffens in surprise, looking down at Dean incredulously as Sam and Jack engulf them all in a full embrace. Any other words are stuck in Deans mouth.

’It’s been too long!’ / ’Welcome home!’ a sweet short lived reunion. They get up, Sam jumping on his phone to spread the good news as he walks back to the car, Jack explains the status quo. Giving Cas a wonderful speech about well deserved places in the world and how if you’re lucky you can carve out a family of your own and he thanks Cas for being a wonderful dad and promises that they still have to work to do and he of course he’ll be around.

But eventually he catches on to the energy in the night air, Dean hovering over Cas’ shoulder, Jack ‘Jacks’ and states an obvious ‘ohhhh this is one of those situations Sam told me to help facilitate, I’m going to * obvious wink* remove myself’  and he Bamfs out.

And Dean grabs Cas’ shoulder, half trying to brush off the black handprint he’s left there in dirt or ooze, half trying to gather his courage and Cas watches as Dean finally looks up and meets his eyes.

‘They’re hard words to say aloud.’ Dean admits, but Cas hears them anyway, and a surprised heart warming smile forms on Cas’ face, and maybe it’s a little bit wobbly.

‘Love is patient.’ Cas offers but Dean winces. He grips Cas’ shoulder tightly, but forces his grip to relax. His hands settling into something almost soft at Cas’ sides, bracketing his elbows. An almost embrace as Dean leans closer.

‘No fuck that. You deserve’ - he scrunches up his nose at the word, ‘You’re… wonderful. You have to know you’re wonderful-  I, goddamnit I’m not good with any of this. You shouldn’t have to be so patient.’ Cas is watching him with a warm smile, basking in the words, in the words he can now see between them, and Deans hands are gently drifting up and down Cas’ arms. They finally settle on his waist. Cas would never tell Dean he could feel their shaking.

‘I love you as you are Dean Winchester’ Cas tells him solemnly.

And Dean kisses him. A brief fierce thing, before he buries his face once more into Cas’ neck, engulfing him in a soul squeezing hug.

We see Deans lips move to form the words we so want to hear, but the words themselves are for Cas’ ears alone as we see Sam watching them from the Impala.

His expression is pained, Half ‘gross that’s my brother making out with an angel’, half ‘my fucking god FINALLY’.

His phone going off in his hands, Eileen and others excited about the news of Cas’ return, and Sam hesitates for a moment before raising the phone. Just as Sam predicted, Dean and Cas kiss once more, the shadows soft about them in the half light on this stretch of remote road. Sam takes a photo and sends it to Eileen…  A whole new flurry of texts flood his screen: OMFG WHAT FINALLY?! YOU OWE ME $$$$ and the radios bubbling softly in the interior of the Impala. The first few notes of ‘Carry on my wayward son’.

Dean knocks on the drivers door, Sam jumps and hides his phone guilty.

‘Outta my seat Bitch’ Dean opens the door for him, Sam goes around to get into the passenger seat, only to see Cas already sitting in it, still glowing but trying to play it cool. Cas’ eyes slide to the backseat and Sam humfs before getting in.

‘You’re both jerks.’

Cas and Dean share a look. Sam groans and slumps down in the backseat. But his happiness about the situation is clear.

The music kicks in, the night sky is endless, and the family are together on the backroads of America, ready to take on whatever comes next.

THE END

Maybe a quick shot post credits scene of Gabriel and Crowley and Balthazar exchanging money with all the other angels and demons now awake and creating chaos in the empty.

[wearevillaneve]

Killing Eve Gets Shut-Out the Emmy’s (but is that a reason to be happy?)

One of the wild things about being a part of the Killing Eve fandom is it NEVER gets boring.  The last episode aired over three months ago, but fresh new drama and beef and controversy swirls around like a spritz of La Villanelle. This particular one was interesting to me because of the passion inflamed and the players involved. 

Shit. Got.  Real.

One one side there is V-for-Villanelle, a splendid (and underappreciated writer) whom is a passionate defender of both the third season of Killing Eve and its head writer, Suzanne Heathcote.  On the other is villanelle_bridge, whom I follow as well, but don’t know at all (In full disclosure V-for-Villanelle is a frequent beta reader/editor for most of my Ao3 works and I, for hers  I consider her a friend and an ally).

villanelle_bridge’s position that the show’s eight Emmy nominations and no wins was something it had coming due to Heathcote dropping the ball is a bit harsh, but not entirely wrong.  Now Season 3 isn’t my favorite, but any success it has is shared from the top down, not the bottom up.

If Heathcote deserves credit for what she got right, she deserves blame for what she got wrong.  To be sure, villanelle_bridge was far from alone in thinkingght KES3 got exactly what it had coming.  

Exactly nothing.

V-for-Villanelle sharply disagreed and owes no explanation to anyone for taking  villanelle_bridge to task for dragging the show, but it applies to villanelle_bridge, as well.   No explanations and no apologies expected or needed. This is what the phrase, “I said what I said” means.  

For my part, V-for-Villanelle brought up a few thought-provoking points I want to delve further into.  Her remarks are in italics.      

Did Suzanne Heathcote rescue Killing Eve from a creative slump or did she deepen it?

All this fandom has done is blame and attack Suzanne for perceived failures, now the latest example being the 2020 Emmys. Personally, I think Suzzanne is brilliant and she rejuvenated a show  that was in a very bad place after Season 2. Besides that Suzanne Heathcote is an incredibly accomplished writer and showrunner (along with the cast, crew, producers, and co writers). Trust me, she knows what she’s doing.

That’s a pretty declarative remark but it is based upon...what?  Suzanne Heathcote was a producer and writer on the fourth season of a Walking Dead spin-off,  Fear the Walking Dead, that wasn’t very good, See and a short film. As a writer and/or producer, Heathcote’s only nominated TV work is for Killing Eve.

We know how that turned out for her.  

What is this rejuvenation Heathcote supposedly accomplished?   I am on record as being one of the harshest of the harsh when it comes to how much I detested how insufferably awful Eve became in the second season.   It takes a lot to make a murderer of multiple women, men and children worth cheering for more than the supposed “hero”, but Eve was such a miserable bitch to even an extra-soft Villanelle, that by the time they got to the ruins, more than a few fans were happy to see her get shot.

Eve became undeserving of our sympathy after committing multiple self-destructive acts of betrayal, selfishness, bad judgment and worse decisions, but it wasn’t a betrayal of her character.  Eve was moving headlong into the Dark Side and the process was unpleasant to watch, but justifiable to move her where she had to go.  

 There were too many scenes of Villanelle being threatened and throttled by misogynist men like Julian and Raymond who choked her out not once, but twice.  Yet her emotional evolution from the cocky smart-ass who boasted how amazing she was to the heartsick, but still highly dangerous assassin she became also felt naturalistic.  We saw the steps Villanelle took and the pain she experienced waking up to her long dormant humanity.

Fennell dropped The Twelve from their position of looming threat for a decidedly less interesting pair of villains.   The Ghost gave Eve a new killer to chase after for a few episodes (and several moments of Eve’s viciousness when she warned the Ghost to come quietly or get shot in the head and then enlisted Villanelle to extract information from the silent assassin in what likely included some physical torture). 

Aaron Peel was another misogynist, albeit a richer and a more controlling one, but as a threat he was quickly dismissed by Villanelle as if Fennell had simply lost interest in him.

When Phoebe Waller-Bridge departed the show in 2019,  she tapped the veteran actress/writer/producer Fennell to carry on where she left off and from the perspective of critics and audiences as calculated by Rotten Tomatoes, PWB was going to be a tough act to follow and it was, but not that tough.

Fennell began the second season minutes after the shocking twist ending where Villanelle flees after being stabbed by an angry and treacherous Eve.  Whatever creative cliff KE went over with the Ghost and Aaron Peel plotlines, it didn’t signal a huge fall of the premiere season.

Dropping four points with notoriously hard-to-please professional critics and only two with fickle audiences is not a reason to push the panic button.  Losing six points overall from Killing Eve Season 1 is no reason to not pop the champagne.

Season 3 debuted with a seemingly arbitrary six-month fast-forward with zero explanation of what Villanelle and Eve had done all that time.  The show dropped an ugly 12 points with critics who yawned with ”been-there-bored-with-that” disinterest and eight points with audiences.  Meaning between Fennell and Heathcote, Killing Eve dropped 20 points between the two groups and 26 points since the PWB glory days.

Those are not impressive numbers to support a description of Heathcote as “an incredibly accomplished writer and showrunner.”   To the contrary, any BBCAmerica executive who notices Killing Eve fared well under Fennell, but  cratered under Heathcote would insist she be replaced as the showrunner if the one-and-done mandate laid down by Waller-Bridge wasn’t being followed.

The ruins are not where Fennell left the show for Heathcote to rescue as the numbers from Rotten Tomatoes illustrate it was under her guidance that the bloom began to fade from Killing Eve’s roses of success.

What Happened to All the Winning?

We’re here due to a snarky response to Killing Eve getting curb-stomped at the 2020 Emmy’s.  Whether or not what villanelle_bridge said rude or simply sarcastic rests in the eye of the beholder, and V-for-Villanelle clearly sees it as rude.  That’s her prerogative, but we all should know by now that award shows aren’t important and what they really mean are bragging rights and some perks in somebody’s contact kicking in.

The British Academy of Film and Television Awards (BAFTA), the Emmy’s, Golden Globes and Screen Actors Guild (SAG) are the Big Four for television talent to receive recognition as they play dress up and smile pretty as they walk the red carpet in designer duds.  In three seasons, Killing Eve has enjoyed a slew of nominations for its producers, actors and technicians.  

The big difference is under Waller-Bridge and Fennell many of those nominations translated into actual wins.   No more.  With Heathcote in charge KE was blanked at the BAFTA’s and erased from the Emmy’s, despite being up for eight nominations.   With the minor exception of Jodie Comer winning a second Best Actress from the TV Choice Awards, her show’s third season has received the Willy Wonka treatment from its peers.

If numbers matter, Suzanne Heathcote shrunk the approval of Killing Eve with both audiences and critics and received a chilly receptions from the entertainment establishment despite the award-bait “Are You From Pinner” episode.  Emphasizing the White co-lead and supporting characters as its Asian lead recedes in the background was a choice and as the lead writer/showrunner, Suzanne Heathcote was in position to reap the benefits had it worked.

It didn’t, and Heathcote’s bad calls have led to a split in the fandom, complaints from its lead actress about a lack of racial diversity in front and behind the camera, and an embarrassing shut-out at the major awards shows.   If that isn’t dismal failure, it can’t be characterized as a raging success.

KE is running out of gas and is nearly on fumes.  Season 2 was no prize, but Season 3 literally has won no prizes.

[rebelsofshield]

Panels Far, Far Away: A Week in Star Wars Comics 5/15/19

Scoundrels, pilots, and rebels take the spotlight in a solid week of Star Wars comics from Marvel.

Star Wars #66 written by Kieron Gillen and art by Angel Unzueta

Kieron Gillen has only two issues left on Star Wars for the forseeable future and fittinglyt he is closing the door on many of his longest running stories. The penultimate chapter of “The Scourging of Sho-Torun” not only functions as a set up for what looks to be an overstuffed conclusion but also closes the book on some long running characters and themes.

In particular, Queen Trios shines here. Next to Doctor Aphra and Triple Zero, Trios may be the best original creation to come out of Gillen’s four year run on Marvel’s Star Wars titles. Her dark pragmatism and shifting loyalties made her an interesting foil to both Darth Vader and later to Leia and the way her story wraps up here is fitting and suitably tragic for such a tortured character. One can’t help but wish that Gillen had given her more time to bounce of Leia in recent issues as their dynamic was one of the dramatic highlights of this run of stories. Trios and Leia represent sort of cautionary tales to one another. Trios sees Leia as a leader who failed her people and is floundering for a purpose in the wake of calamity and Leia sees Trios as a twisted version of what she could be if she abandoned her morals. There is an unspoken question in the air of if Leia could have saved Alderaan with a dash of Trios-inspired cynicism and Gillen’s script is at his best when he forces both characters to confront this. Where the story goes from here could have disastrous results for our princess and it will be interesting to see Gillen or follow up writer Greg Pak explore the fall out.

Leia and Trios may be the standouts but that doesn’t mean that Luke also doesn’t have his hands full. Luke’s Captain America-like “aw shucks” idealism is pushed to its limits here as he is forced to find a way to save Sho-Torun from his former allies. Cornering Luke with the sort of moral conundrum of having to save innocents or kill other rebels is a brutal twist and Gillen handles it in a manner that doesn’t betray the young hero’s pre-Empire Strikes Back naiveté. It could’ve used more breathing room but it adds another thrilling wrinkle to this jam-packed issue.

However this leads to what is ultimately the biggest let down when it comes to how “The Scourging of Sho-Torun” is concluding. While early issues saw lots of stage setting and playful heists, we have rapidly upped the stakes and introduced new complications to Leia’s scheme and not all of them get the time they deserve. The Empire’s intervention here feels a little half-baked and even flippant and how exactly this plays out with Trios and the larger culture of Sho-Torun could’ve been further explored. It’s hard to tell if this is a problem that could have been alleviated with another issue of runtime or whether some of the attention in past chapters could have been diverted. Regardless, we find ourselves running out of time with a lot of plates spinning in the air.

Angel Unzueta’s art is for the most part solid here. His facial expressions can still feel oddly exaggerated and unnatural on his characters but he is for the most part able to nail the bigger moments. The final showdown between Leia and Trios in particular is a standout and Unzueta not only nails the choreography but sells the complicated emotions of this clash as well.

One to go. Let’s get scourging.

Score: B+

Star Wars Age of Rebellion: Lando Calrissian #1 written by Greg Pak and art by Matteo Buffagni

Unlike past hero issues of Age of Rebellion, Lando Calrissian isn’t concerned with filling in the blanks of Lando’s story. Instead, Greg Pak attempts to tell a holistic Lando tale. “Cloud City Blues” tries its best to not only show us Lando the scoundrel and swindler but also Lando the leader and Lando the bleeding heart and Lando the loyal friend. Surprisingly, it works, if not perfectly.

Cloud City is proving to be a costly investment. Despite his new position of power, Lando Calrissian finds himself routinely having to dig into his own resources to keep the floating city running and to placate its overtaxed work force. However, when a wealthy off worlder approaches Lando with a business proposition that seems too good to be true, his financial worries may have found a solution. Of course though, not everything is at it seems.

We have seen a lot of Lando as a smuggler and a gambler as of late. Much of his recent portrayal in Star Wars media has built off his scene stealing charisma in Solo: A Star Wars Story and has delved deep into his ties to the criminal underworld or his moral fluidity. It’s refreshing then to see Greg Pak take the time to explore Lando as a responsibility driven leader. While it is easy to get caught up in his betrayal of Han Solo in The Empire Strikes Back, Lando did in fact do it to protect a city of people he was responsible for. Pak’s ability to blend Lando’s sense of duty to his people into a story that also allows him to smuggle, gamble, and brush shoulders with criminals is commendable and a refreshingly rare take on the character.

That being said, the narrative itself is fairly predictable. As soon as Lando takes the job that will supposedly solve all of his problems it is clear that things will eventually take a turn for the worse. It is undeniably told well and filled with some great character beats, but its various twists and turns are clear from the outset.

Matteo Buffagni fills in for Chris Sprouse here and luckily their styles prove similar enough to avoid any large sense of creative dysphoria. That being said Buffagni’s art is largely unremarkable. Outside some clever creature designs for Lando’s benefactors (they are drawn as cape wearing dinosaur-mantises), Buffagni fails to leave much of an impression.

Score: B

Star Wars Tie Fighter #2 written by Jody Houser and art by Roge Antonio and Josh Cassara

Between Age of Republic and TIE Fighter, it is clear that Jody Houser is most at home when she is given a taste of the dark side. While this glimpse into the origins of Shadow Wing may not have the delightfully demented twists of some of her best work over in the prequel era, Houser does a great job at humanizing the Empire better than most other contemporary Star Wars media.

There is a frustrating tendency in Star Wars media where complex Imperial characters tend to flip sides to the side of the heroes. In a way, this makes sense. You don’t really want to populate much of your fictional fascist dictatorship with many heroes or even misguided regular people. Part of Star Wars’ myth has always been the stark binary of its morality and muddying that too much runs the risk of losing sight of what makes this universe so appealing. The hidden gem of a Star Wars story appears to be one that stars an Imperial lead that isn’t a full on anti-hero but also doesn’t end their arc as a rebel defector. 

Houser manages to balance this mostly by allowing us glimpses into the various characters’ interiority and framing their mission as one of misguided loyalty and war weariness. Having the pilots of Shadow Wing face off against an enemy that isn’t tied to the Rebellion also adds a nice bite to the story and offers some unexpected moments of self-awareness to the cast and their place in this galactic war. It may not be a truly gripping narrative in its own right at this point, but that doesn’t seem to be Houser’s main priority.

The strength of this series to date has been its rather arresting ensemble and that continues here. It is impressive just how organic this cast feels so quickly. The decision to end each issue with a sort of mini-story centering on one individual cast member is an inspired one and it adds a larger humanizing affect to the narrative and its action. (This issue centers on a carryover member from Han Solo: Imperial Cadet and in the process actually helps elevate what was mostly a clumsy and disposable series.)

The shared art effort by Roge Antonio and Jose Cassara also works rather well here. Antonio finds clever ways to help us keep track of our protagonists in the various dogfights and action that Houser’s script throws at us. Whether it’s by offering us glimpses of the characters beneath their helmets or showcasing talking head like call signs for dialogue, the action is clear, well-paced, and adds a personal bite that avoids any confusion that might have resulted from the Empire’s infamous homogeny.

I may not be anxiously awaiting the conclusion to Shadow Wing’s particular mission here, but just getting to know these flawed and human pilots continues to be an unexpected source of intrigue and disarming empathy for one of pop culture’s most infamous villainous organizations.

Score: B

[talkfastromance4]

At My Weakest (4)

So so sorry. My inspiration his been sort of dry for this one. Hoping to get back into it.  Catch up on the other parts below:

(1) (2) (3)

It’s been five days since the last morning coffee rendezvous and Helena was hurt, confused, and angry. He’s like a yo-yo; when he comes too close for comfort he falls away and stays there.

Helena leaves the diner with Jodie in charge, a faithful employee, and decides to go to Chance’s with for some drinks with Val.

“Okay, chica, what’s got you all down in the dumps?” Val asks while they’re both halfway done with their second drinks.

“Ashton,” Helena grumbles before taking a shot that the bartender placed in front of her.

“Uh oh. He still hasn’t asked you out yet?”

“No,” she snorts, “he hasn’t talked to me in five days. Maybe i was coming on too strong? But I wasn’t even doing anything!” Helena gasps loudly, realization hitting her. “You don’t think Jack said anything, do you?”

“No,” Val shakes her head sipping her drink carefully. “They haven’t interacted that much I don’t think. He’s a tough guy to figure out.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me. You know what, Val? I am going to drink and have fun and forget all about Ashton,” Helena states proudly, she slams her fist on the wood grained bar top.

“That’s my girl!” Val cheers and orders another round of shots.

Ashton shows up with Lincoln, a fellow fireman he’s been chatting with at the station. He knows all about Ashton’s qualms with Helena, a lot of personal stuff comes out when you’re on your third night of being on call. He nudges Ashton when he notices Helena at the bar. Just one look at her made Ashton groan in longing.

It was as if the last five days didn’t even happen because that one look made time stop. Time was nothing, it was neither here nor there, all that mattered was him and her being in the exact same space.

“Let’s go to Liberty’s,” Ashton says trying to back out the door but bumps into Lincoln.

“No. You gotta man up and talk to her. Jack isn’t here and he’s not in control of Helena.”

“She’s with Val I don’t want--”

“Hey! Ramirez!” Lincoln shouts and guides Ashton forcefully forward.

Val and Helena turn in their stools, both of their expressions a mixture of shock and drunkenness.

“What’s up, guys?” Val asks. Her eyes dart between Helena and Ashton, anticipating in bated breath to what her best friend will do.

Ashton keeps glancing at Helena who is keeping her gaze away from his. She was mixing her drink with her straw, paying close attention to the ice swirling around.

“Needed some drinks,” Lincoln shrugs.

“Well, there’s plenty. Enjoy boys,” Helena slurs, her eyes heavy. She spins in her stool but loses her balance nearly toppling over but Ashton catches her.

He could smell the alcohol on her and hoped she didn’t plan on driving home, or walking. A terrible image of her falling and lying on the sidewalk passed out didn’t bode well with Ashton.

“You okay?” he asks steadying her back on the seat.

“I’m fine,” she grumbles trying to shove him away. “Like you care,” she mutters but Ashton hears the comment.

Ashton winces, he deserved that.

“Lenny,” Val says in a warning tone.

“It’s okay Val, I probably won’t see him for a week anyway,” Helena waves her hand dismissively. The motion causes her to almost fall of the stool again.

“Okay, I think it’s time for you to go home,” Ashton says grabbing her purse.

“Are you going to help me like you did when my car snowballed?” she asks in an accusing tone then went into a fit of giggles. “Snowballed, ha ha ha.” she falls into his arms willingly, her anger towards him dissipated already thanks to the concoction of alcohol.

“Irwin, you don’t--” Val tries to protest.

“It’s fine,” he grins. “I deserve to get yelled at.”

“Yeah, you do!” Helena gasps and points her finger drunkenly at his face, “I revoke my free coffee to you, sir.”

“I understand,” he nods then waves a goodbye to Val and Lincoln. Helena leans on him as they exit the bar.

She chatters nonsense the whole ride to her house. It was a toss up of yelling at him and whatever else popped into her head. When he arrived at her house, she tried getting her keys but her purse fumbled out of her hands onto the driveway.

“I’ve got it,” he bends down to retrieve the bag. He fishes out her keys and grabs hold of her waist to help her walk up the steps.

When he opened the door she stumbled through it with her hand covering her mouth and mumbled, ‘bathroom.’ He watches her teeter down the hall falling into the bathroom off to the left. He follows quickly after her and holds her hair while rubbing her back.

When she’s finished relieving the alcohol from her stomach, he hears her sniff. He gets a kleenex then fills a cup of water near the sink.

“Here,” he hands her the cup and tissue.

“There’s mouthwash underneath,” she croaks pointing to the cabinets. When she’s rinsed her mouth and washed her face, Ashton grabs hold of her elbow.

“Want help getting to bed?” he asks and she nods, her teeth chattering together. Her body is weak from being sick.

He holds onto her gently helping her down the hall into her bedroom. He flicks the light on and smiles at the space, the light switch turned on a string of lights that were draped across her ceiling. A tapestry of the moon in all of its phases was on one wall and she had a fish tank on her dresser where a happily swimming goldfish resided. She stumbles to her bed kicking off her shoes and grabs her pajamas.

“Can you turn around?” she asks.

He does as he’s asked, the sound of her grunting fills his ears and he tries not to picture what she looks like as she undresses.

“Okay.”

He spins in his spot to see her opening a bottle of Advil. Her eyes aren’t as heavy, she just looks more tired.

“Goodnight,” he says.

“Why do you disappear?” she asks and he stops cold in his tracks halfway to the door.

He turns around slowly and sees her sitting up with her arms wrapped around her knees. Ashton mentally slaps himself, why does he disappear? He doesn’t want to, but it’s like it’s wired into his brain to run off when things start going well for him.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” a knee jerk reaction to avoid the situation at hand.

“No, tell me now. Getting sick really sobered me up. Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, no, no, no,” he shakes his head and sits at the bottom of her feet. “You’re--it’s me,” he sighs deeply burying his face in his hands. “I’ve felt this pull to you ever since I met you, I feel like my head is clearer when I’m near you but that scares me. I’ve lost a lot of people and I pull myself away. And I’ve heard how Jack feels--”

“My idiot brother?” she scoffs. “Don’t listen to him, he’s all talk and no bite.” she slides closer to him on the bed and asks in a softer voice, “who have you lost?”

“My dad left me when I was little, one of my brothers from New York didn’t make it out of a building . . .”

“Oh no,” she gasps scooting even closer. She rests her hand on his shoulder and feels how tense he is then his muscles relax at her touch. “I’m so sorry. How long ago did you lose him?”

“Almost two years. I should’ve been there with him,” he shakes his head. “I’m trying not to get too close to you, that’s why I disappear.”

He turns his head to look at her, his bright hazel eyes meeting her dark blue. The lights up above twinkle in her eyes like stars and she can see the storm clouds brewing in his, the dark circles beneath them signifying his lack of sleep.

“Do you have bad dreams?” she asks. Testing herself, she touches the darkened skin with her thumb. He nods gently, eyes darting between her eyes and lips and she understands now. “That’s why you don’t sleep.”

“I can’t. I see his face whenever I close my eyes, he was like my younger brother.”

“What’s his name?” she readjusts herself so her right leg is hanging off the bed with her left tucked beneath her. She retracted her thumb from his face placing them instead in her lap, but her attention is all on him.

“Luke,” he whispers squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk about him--”

“Don’t apologize. We don’t have to talk about him if it hurts,” she shakes her head.

“That’s why I disappear. I don’t want to lose anyone else like I lost him,” he admits and her breath catches in her throat.

“What if you don’t?” she asks, the question lingering in the space between them.

He reaches his fingers to her cheek, caressing it and runs the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. He cups her other cheek, moving closer and closer until their noses are touching. He sees her eyes close and Ashton closes the distance between them, his lips soft and gentle on hers.

It’s a chaste kiss which he stops as soon as it starts not wanting to push his luck. Her right hand grabs him and kisses him again, his top lip caught between hers and soon their mouths are open with his tongue sliding over hers.

After a few minutes of getting used to each other, he pushes her gently back onto her pillows. She tucks her leg out and he rests against her hips comfortably. Helena wraps her arms around his broad shoulders then rakes her fingers through his hair.

Ashton shifts his hands behind her back using his right hand to press her body closer to his, their lips whispering. He squeezes her hip, his thumb tracing the skin below her naked breast beneath her shirt. She moans into his mouth from his touch and rocks her hips against him lightly. He’s inching her night shirt up so he can feel just how soft her stomach is when his radio lets out two loud beeps.

They both pause and Ashton notices she doesn’t flinch at the sound then remembers she’s probably used to hearing it from Val and Jack. They break apart their kiss to listen to the call. Their breathing is erratic, eyes never leaving one another’s.

“Fire alarm sounded at Sunny Meadows senior living, report to the station for further instruction,” the dispatcher says and Ashton pulls himself regrettably off Helena. She follows his movements to sit up with him, tugging her shirt down over her stomach.

“I’ve got to go,” he sighs standing up. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Will you come back?” she asks grasping his forearm.

“If you want me.”

“Come back,” she nods.

He bends down to give her a quick kiss, already it feels so natural, and murmurs on her lips, “As soon as I can.”

[aion-rsa]

Netflix’s Never Have I Ever: Great TV Comedies to Watch Next

https://ift.tt/3klRNa5

If there’s justice in this world, high school comedy Never Have I Ever will return for at least a third season. The story of 15-year-old Devi Vishwakumar, a Los Angeles teen reeling from her beloved father’s sudden death while trying to navigate all the usual boys/school/friendship mess of adolescence, deserves to continue long into the future. (Here’s our spoiler-free season two review.)

While fans wait for news on a third season commission, the 10 great shows below are well worth discovering or (re)discovering. They’re not all teen shows, nor are they all strictly comedies, but somewhere along the line, they share some DNA with Mindy Kaling and Lang Fisher’s Never Have I Ever. Add your own additional recommendations below.

Fresh Off the Boat

Six seasons (2015 – 2020)

Since the cruel early cancellation of her show Don’t Trust the B**** in Apt. 23 (Krysten Ritter’s funniest performance to date) it’s pretty much mandatory to watch anything Nahnatchka Khan makes. Fresh Off the Boat was her follow-up comedy for ABC, based on the early life of celebrity chef Eddie Huang as his family moved from Washington DC to Orlando. It’s set in the 90s and concluded last year after six seasons. The cast is great, in particular Randall Park (WandaVision, Always Be My Maybe) and Constance Wu (Crazy Rich Asians) as young Eddie’s Taiwanese immigrant parents, each of whom has very different mileage on adjusting to life in the US. 

The Mindy Project

Six seasons (2012 – 2017)

This romantic comedy was Mindy Kaling’s post-The Office project – the story of self-absorbed, pop-culture obsessed, lovable OB/GYN Dr Mindy Lahiri (Kaling) and her search for love in Manhattan. After some cast changes in its first season, it really found its feet and settled into a sharp workplace comedy with a great ensemble. It survived a post-season three cancellation by FOX thanks to being picked up by Hulu for a further three seasons, and ended in 2017. US comedy fans can enjoy playing actor bingo too, thanks to appearances from many of Kaling’s The Office co-stars, including writer-producer B.J. Novak, Ellie Kemper, Ed Helms and more. 

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

Four seasons (2015 – 2019)

Rachel Bloom and Aline Brosh McKenna’s comedy-musical series is inventive, boundary-breaking and packed to the rafters with talent. Like a few of the shows in this list, it’s distinctly adult in theme and not a high school comedy but still shares the wit, high-key colour and bold approach to life’s harder moments as Never Have I Ever. It’s the story of high-flying NYC lawyer Rebecca Bunch, who gives up everything to move to a backwater Californian town to pursue her summer camp first love Josh (Vincent Rodriguez III). Rebecca’s love of musical theatre bleeds into the show, turning it into a mental health musical complete with funny, original, sharply written song-and-dance routines.  

Popular

Two seasons (1999 – 2001)

The debut series from super-producer Ryan Murphy (American Horror Story, Pose, Glee, Nip/Tuck) co-created by Gina Matthews, Popular is the story of Brooke and Sam, two high school sophomores from opposite ends of the popularity spectrum who are forced together when their single parents become a couple. It ran for two seasons on The WB before being cancelled, and has since attracted a cult following for Murphy’s characteristically sharp blend of comedy, romance and serious themes. It landed in the 90s, so yes, the teens are played by 25 year olds, the unpopular nerd (Carly Pope) has model good looks, it’s not exactly diverse (though there is LGBTQ representation) but it’s seminal in Never Have I Ever’s genre. 

Sex Education

Three seasons so far (2019 – )

Laurie Nunn’s charming British comedy-drama is a frank and funny look at sexual hang-ups and teen relationships. It has a great ensemble cast led by Otis (Asa Butterfield), a shy teen embarrassed by his sex therapist mother’s forthright attitude to all things physical. When Otis teams up with ‘bad girl’ Maeve to offer anonymised sex therapy to their schoolmates, he discovers that he’s not the only one with issues. It’s a bright and funny high school series with characters to invest in, a stand-out performance by Ncuti Gatwa as Eric, and oh, the sex therapist mother is played by Gillian Anderson. Season three arrives on Netflix this September.

Read more

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Never Have I Ever Season 2 Review: This Netflix Teen Comedy Deserves to Run and Run

By Louisa Mellor

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Never Have I Ever Season 2: Episode 3’s Last-Minute Celebrity Narrator Change

By Louisa Mellor

Freaks & Geeks

One season (1999 – 2000)

A must-see high school comedy. Paul Feig and Judd Apatow’s 1980s-set series is most discussed these days for the outstanding cast of unknowns gathered by Allison Jones (who went on to cast The Office, Parks and Recreation, The Good Place, Arrested Development, Veep and basically every US sitcom worth watching). The prematurely cancelled NBC series kick-started the careers of Seth Rogen, Jason Segel, Martin Starr, Busy Phillips, Linda Cardellini, James Franco and more. It’s the story of Cardellini’s Lindsay Weir, a maths star who crosses social boundaries from ‘geek’ to slacker ‘freak’ after the death of her grandmother. It’s brilliant, weird, funny and painful, and a total antidote to mainstream, slick, rich-kid Beverley Hills 90210 high school glamour, so of course, hardly anybody watched it, the network didn’t get it, and it was cancelled well before its time. 

The Wonder Years

Six seasons (1988 – 1993)

Husband and wife team Neal Marlens and Carol Black created a classic in The Wonder Years, a coming-of-age story about Kevin, the youngest son of a suburban American family, growing up against the backdrop of the Vietnam War and the hippie movement. It’s fuelled by nostalgia and the sweet romantic yearnings of its young lead Kevin Arnold (played by Fred Savage, now a top comedy director-producer), but doesn’t gloss over life’s more serious moments. Never Have I Ever’s choice of John McEnroe as its wry adult narrator may well have been influenced by Daniel Stern’s role on The Wonder Years. It’s available to stream now on Hulu in the US.

Skins

7 seasons (2007 – 2013)

Not strictly a comedy, but with plenty of comedic moments, Skins has to be in the running for the best British teen show ever made. The first four seasons especially are filled with great writing, strong performances, and characters whose lives – and complicated love lives – are easy to invest in. It followed the students of a Bristol sixth form college through their A levels, giving it the chance to renew the cast every two years as the previous generation graduated/dropped out/ran away/were murdered. Like Freaks and Geeks, its cast of young actors, from Nicholas Hoult to Dev Patel, Joe Dempsie, Daniel Kaluuya, Jack O’Connell, Kaya Scodelario and more went on to very big things. Much more layered and satisfyingly weird than the reputation it was given by the British press as an orgy of sex, drugs and bad behaviour, it’s another must-watch. 

Daria

Five seasons (1997 – 2001)

Developed from a character created for Mike Judge’s animated MTV comedy Beavis & Butthead, Daria Morgendorffer is a cynical 16-year-old with a gimlet eyed take on suburban US life. She’s a 90s icon with a monotone voice (provided by Tracy Grandstaff) and a wry take on her schoolmates, parents, and cheerleader sister Quinn. Her witty, dry animated series aired for five seasons plus feature-length TV specials, and is soon to have a new spin-off coming to Comedy Central, focused on Daria’s classmate Jodie’s travails in the modern workplace.

My So-Called Life

One season (1994 – 1995)

When My So-Called Life aired its only season on ABC in 1994, it was the anti-teen TV show. Muted and realist rather than upbeat and aspirational, it cast actual teenagers, not models, and ventured into areas avoided by many other teen dramas of the time: alcoholism, sex, domestic abuse… Its first-person narration from Claire Danes’ lead character gave it a distinctive voice, and influenced many shows to follow. It’s worth saying that My So-Called Life is a drama, not a comedy, and paints teenage life with a totally different colour palette to bright, satirical Never Have I Ever. Acknowledging that, it’s a cult favourite, and possible to trace a line from Devi’s love triangle with nerdy academic Ben and hot, popular Paxton, and MSCL’s Angela Chase’s love triangle with nerdy academic Brian and hot, popular Jordan (would that line continue all the way back to Pretty in Pink? Probably). 

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Never Have I Ever season 2 is available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Netflix’s Never Have I Ever: Great TV Comedies to Watch Next appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[carelesslytrying]

I’ll Be Home For Christmas. (Pt 3)

Characters: reader, TFW Summary: It was Christmas when you walked out of the bunker, just a simple trip to the grocery store. But what was a ‘simple trip’, turned into the mourning of your three best friends. Warnings: sad Words: 1,343 A/N: Hope you liked this mini series as much as I did. Hopefully there will be more coming ;)

Part One Part Two

“Sammy! Cas!” Dean called out, holding the three packages under his left arm whilst holding a beer in his right. 

He placed the packages neatly onto the table in the library before taking a seat as footsteps entered the war room.

“Dean, what is it?” Sam asks, Cas following close behind him as they entered the library.

They both came to halt, seeing the packages sitting on the table while Dean popped open his beer. They slowly walked in, surprised to see Dean even looking at the packages, nevertheless picking them up and bringing them into the library.

They didn’t burn your body, like the usual hunter’s funeral. Dean couldn’t bring himself to do it, and there were days he regretted it, knowing out of all the hunters he knew, you deserved it the most. But most days, he was glad you were buried. 

The wooden cross, with you initials craved into the front, stood tall and proud at a small secluded lake, just outside of Lebanon. The boys found you there many times before, mostly after a hunt gone wrong. 

You would leave as soon as you got back to the bunker, got out of the Impala, hop into your car and just drive off. You went there to clear your head, sometimes just to mourn without being bothered. You’d be there for a few hours, sometimes a day or two, sleeping in your car before coming back to the bunker.

The boys found your spot after following you once, making sure you weren’t going off to drown yourself in a bottle whiskey. They thought you would be mad for intruding, and at first, you were. But after seeing the worried looks on their faces, and how relieved they were too see you okay, you brushed it off.

They even had somewhat of a funeral service for you. Before burying you, they invited Jody, Donna, Claire, and a few other hunters to say their goodbye’s. Claire and Jody were to fond of the fact you weren’t burned, but in the end, respected the decision not too.

“What are you doing with those?” Sam asks as Dean takes a long, needed sip of his beer.

“I feel like it’s time, you know? She would’ve wanted us to open them.” Dean says, placing his bottle onto the table as both Sam and Cas give him questionable looks but nevertheless sit down.

Dean was the first to grab his package from the middle of the table, then Sam, then Cas. He read over his name, scribbled onto the side of the wrapping in your handwriting. He missed seeing your handwriting, scribbled on receipts, or any spare pare you could find to just write down your thoughts or to keep yourself busy.

Sam and Cas waited until Dean tore into his wrapping to do the same, three being met with brown boxes. Dean took out his pocket knife, slicing the tape holding the box closed before passing it to Sam and Cas. 

Cas was the first to get his package open, considering it was about the size of his palm. He pulled off the top, revealing a folded up piece of paper with his name written across the top. He folded it open to reveal a small letter from you.

Castiel, You are my family. You’ve been there for me through my ups and downs, and I you. I hope with this gift, when you can’t find your way home and you’re losing yourself, you look and remember. Love you lots, Y/N

A tear comes to his eye as he re-reads the letter. It was true, Cas was always there for you through your worst times, there to listen and quote Scripture to help you find strength, and you did the same. It really did help Castiel, knowing someone was there to listen, to understand his struggles.

He places the letter aside to reveal his gift, sitting in bubble wrap in the box. It was dog tags, engraved with the same words. 

Castiel Winchester A hero and friend. John 16:33

A warmth filled Cas’ heart as he pulled out the tags, a small tear cascading down his cheek as he slipped it over his neck. It was something he didn’t know he needed until now, and oh how badly did he need it right now.

Sam was next to open his gift, coming up with a similar piece of paper to Cas’. He unfolded it, his eyes scanning it over gingerly to feel your presence through your words.

Sam, I know throughout the years you’ve brought up writing down our story. Keep our legacy alive even when were not. For hunters decades after us to read it and be inspired by what we’ve done for others.  I hope this is a good start. Love you lots, Y/N

Sam dropped the letter into his lap before quickly pulling his gift out of the box to reveal a beautiful, leather journal, almost like his Fathers. His mouth dropped slightly, pulling open the cover to see on the bottom left was his name, engraved into the leather.

His fingertips grazed over the letters, knowing how much money this must’ve costed you, yet you did it anyways out of the kindness of your heart. He bit the inside of his cheek to hold his composure, wishing he could cradle you in a hug, but couldn’t.

Dean took his time to open his present, mostly because he wanted to savor the moment as much as he could, but there was a part of him who wish he didn’t have to do this at all.

He pulled out his note, gritting his teeth as he reluctantly pulled open, seeing your handwriting filling most of the paper.

Dean, It was hard to shop for you. I had a few options, but eventually came across this and had a feeling in my gut that it was perfect. I hope you like as much as I did and, knowing you, you’ll find a use for it. Love you lots, Y/N

Dean slipped his free hand back into the box, pulling out his gift. In his hand was a hard wood flask, the bottom left corner was his initials carved into the bottom. He examines the flask, chuckling quietly too himself at how well you knew him.

You knew how much he used Bobby’s flask when he passed, and how hard it was for him to let it go when Bobby eventually came back. Dean didn’t complain about it at all really, maybe once or twice in the heat of the moment, but nothing more then that. 

Dean gave a weak smile before averting his eyes up to his family, looking at what they had received.

“You think she’s watching over us?” Sam asks, looking over to Cas who stuffed his dog tags under his button shirt.

“I would like to believe so.” Cas says, folding his note and stuffing it into his trench coat pocket.

Silence engulfs the three as Sam and Dean merely nod their heads, not knowing what else to say. Dean took another long swig of his beer, hoping to get back to his numb state as something in his perpherial catches his eye.

He turned, his eyes growing as he watches a chair in the corner of the room spin all by itself. He grits his teeth, wanting to wave it off as nothing, but he knew it wasn’t just nothing.

“Sam.” Dean swallowed harshly, knowing exactly what it was, but didn’t want to admit it himself.

Sam looked up from his journal before following Dean stare to the corner of the room, his chest tightening as he watches the chair spin as well. 

Just then, the light fixture on the wall above it began to short circuit, flickering in and out of power. The sword displayed on the wall across from it was then knocked off, the fall echoing throughout the bunker.

Sam eyes flickered between Dean and Cas before looking back over to the chair, clearing his throat.

“Y/N?”

[50shadesofsubtextao3]

Do you know what would be the coolest!?!

Fic series, like the have TV series. And it could follow the spin-offs we never got in the show. Like how CW has Arrow and the Flash and Legeds and Supergirl where it is about their separate lives, but they come together occasionally and meet back up.

Like for SPN, the series would start off with Sam and Dean. And there would be a spinoff with Jesse, and one with the Roadhouse in heaven, and one with the interesting characters that deserved better. And each spinoff would be connected. Like what if Jesse popped up to heaven to help the Roadhouse crew break Cas out of heaven’s prison once. Or when a new big bad comes along, Dean or Sam kill themselves to get info from the Roadhouse. Or Jody let’s Jesse stay at her house after a hunt and constantly has to make sure he doesn’t sneak into Alex’s room in the night because they were totally eye fucking all day.

And then a really big bad comes up, like the BMoL and everyone bands together and Jesse and Cas work together to bring in everyone from Heaven.

And the fics take turns being updated, like Jesse would have and adventure and then Sam and Dean and then the Roadhouse and then the wayward sisters. And you start something on one story, and then it’s like, read the rest on the Roadhouse fic.

[harritudur]

rpf . jodie comer/jacob collins-levy . 3 155 words . rating M

note: as I promised, here my Jodie x Jacob smut. I tried to not turn this into a gratuitous smutty fic and so, I decided to add some fluff as well lol :) For @thefairfleming​ who gave me the courage to write and to post this shit fic (again, i apologize for the typos and my bad english)

-

Jodie couldn’t remember why she had ever thought it would be a good idea to start in the first place. Sometimes she blamed it on drink, on the nice French Rosé. And then, the annoying voice in the back of her head that sounded a little like her Mum telling her to stop being such a naive fool. She should have been enough of an adult to admit to her mistakes.

The thing was, she couldn’t find it in herself to stop.

-

Two weeks before, Jodie’s computer began to ring with the sounds of a Skype call from Jacob. Her former co-star whom she hadn’t made the least attempt to contact when she was still in the UK and he, in L.A. -or Australia maybe? They were not been in touch often recently. “Hello, Miss Comer,” he said, and then checked his watch. “It’s almost 7pm in L.A.! What are you doing up at such an ungodly hour?” “Working!” she replied proudly, showing to the camera the recent script she received for a new play in London. “What about you?” “Well, I am keep selling my soul in Hollywood for the sake of my career”. There was a hint of something in his voice that she can’t decipher, and yet it made her nervous. "I heard you were in the US recently and you didn’t even call me?” “Well, I wasn’t technically in the US,” Jodie said, taking a sip of her nocturnal tea. (British habits die hard) “I was in New York.” “East coast superiority problem,” he snorted, and he got this unreadable expression on his face. “How is England?” “Damp. And lovely,” she said, smiling brightly. “I will be there soon. To visit my father’s side of the family. It’s been a while… Can I come visit you at some point as well?” Jodie was slightly taken aback. He’d never asked if he could come visit. They’d been mostly cut off from each other since he’d gone to Los Angeles. “Yeah, Jake. Sure. If you felt like it.” “I will,” he said. “You mark my words, I will.”

-

To be honest, she wasn’t expecting him to show up. But, Jacob had always been hyperactive, a touch unpredictable and adventurous (she liked to call him Crocodile Dundee on set, just for the tease), so she was only about sixty percent surprised when he called her from Heathrow. “Jodz,” he said, “why aren’t you here to pick me up?” “Probably because you didn’t tell me you were coming! But I’ll come now.” She grabbed her keys and ran out the door before she could even think about what she was doing. Luckily for him, she moved to London the last week –a better decision for her career. “Finally,” Jacob said as she burst through the door at the airport, scrubbing a hand through his hair like he had just woken up from a long nap. “Finally, she shows up.” “Do you have any idea how far Heathrow is from London, Jacob!” Jodie said, trying to ignore the conspicuous lump in her throat and the way her heart rate sped up a little when he stepped forward and gave her a massive bear hug. “Missed you, Jodz,” he whispered in her ear, and suddenly, yup, there they all were, all those crazy feelings that she hadn’t let herself express for all those months she’d co-starred with him. “Missed you too, Jacob,” she said, and now she regretted not calling him while she was in the US.

-

True to form, he had no interest in actually sitting down for a proper meal, so they managed to navigate the interminable Tube of London for some takeaway Indian food that didn’t look like it would give them food poisoning. They sat on the floor in Jodie’s flat she just rented, cardboard boxes everywhere (and Jacob couldn’t believe how much of an improvement it was over any flat for a comparable -or even more expensive- price in Los Angeles) and chewed down. Just like old times in their trailers.

She brought out from her fridge a bottle of cheap French Rosé and they’d swapped stories about friends, family, one-night stands. He’d let her listen to a few songs on his ipod. She’d teased him about his Californian tan. She’d talked about Glastonbury Festival. He’d regretted to not have been there with her. They’d drunk the bottle dry.

Jodie hadn’t felt much nostalgia or sadness for her many former co-stars, realizing she’d gone off and lost touch with many of them. And more important, she’d had the possibility to meet them in London when she wished to. But now, she was nostalgic and sad -she didn’t know how much she missed him and how much she hated suddenly the Atlantic & the Pacific Oceans (and the Indian one too!). Jodie wasn’t aware that Jacob had been staring at her the whole time as she looked contemplatively in to her rice. “Jodz,” he said, “are you okay?” She exhaled, and looked back up at him. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just… missing the old days, you know?” There was a beat of silence. He smiled wistfully, which was an ability Jodie didn’t believe that people could develop before the age of thirty. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too. That’s why I’m here, I suppose.” “So you came all this way to sit on my floor and eat curry with me, and I suppose you’re flying back tomorrow in time for… your family right? Or an audition maybe? An event? Or a romantic dinner with whoever you are hooking up with?” The twinge of bitterness that Jodie heard in her voice was unintended, and she almost apologized to him right there. He laughed, harsh and bitter, like she’d never heard him laugh before. “God, we’ve been out of touch, haven’t we Jodie? No one is waiting for me in my cold cold bed.” “I’m sorry…” and instinctively, she reached out for him and grabbed his hand. Jacob sighed. “I miss you.” “Same, Jake.” “You’ve done an awful good job of hiding it.” “Oh come on,” Jodie said, reeling. “We’ve both been busy. I’ve been doing auditions and some new projects are in the coming. I’m an actress. It’s my job! I could say the same about you.” “I just thought… I just thought we were…” Jacob said, struggling to finish. Never once in her life, she had seen him at such a loss for words. If it weren’t for the emotional gravitas that she suspected the situation deserved, she would have whipped out her phone and taken a video. “Friends?” Jodie supplied, trying her best to be helpful. “Friends?” Jacob practically yelled back at her, his hands shaking. “Oh, sod it.” He got up and made his way towards the door. “Jacob,” she said, popping up and running after him, stopping him just short of her front entranceway, “what the hell?” “Friends, huh Jodie? Right, because I’m going to fly all the way across the goddamn Oceans for someone who I like as a friend. I don’t understand how you could possibly be so thick!” Quieter, he continued, his sharp blue eyes on her. “Did you really just want to be friends this whole time?”

A pause.

“No…” Jodie just managed, and finally, here, she was being perfectly honest; she was addressing the feelings that Jacob gave her, and everything that she missed about the last year and him most of all. “No, I didn’t not want to be just friends, but I felt that our hands were a little tied. There was this whole unspoken rule about not dating your co-star, and I had commitments in the UK and you had your life in Australia and then… then I just wasn’t around anymore, and you deserve more than a girlfriend half a world away, and you deserve to have a great career as well, and… it’s like life just kept getting in the way. Bad timing or whatever it is. But, yeah, the way I dreamed about you or us or… the things I managed to think up… it was just, you know? Just a dream…”

Based on the look Jacob was giving her at this exact second, Jodie could’t decide if he was going to kiss her, or storm out her flat door. But the next thing she knew he is crushing himself against her, arms wrapped around her waist and lips against hers. She felt his tongue prodding her lips, and she opened her mouth to him and mentally fist-pumped, and then shivered when he ran his tongue across hers and gently slipped his fingers under the hem of her t-shirt. The feeling of his fingers on her skin made her mind spin with anticipation. He pulled away, looked at her kind of funny, and said, “Is someone else dropping by tonight?” What? Oh yes, we are in London, she realized, and a Saturday night, and I have friends in the city. “No. No Jake… there’s not anyone coming, if that’s what you’re implying…” “Good,” he whispered, “because I am taking you to bed and we are not leaving there for a while.” “Oh,” Jodie said, and hoped that she wasn’t making too much of a dopey happy face. Then she was the one kissing him. An impulsive action –and she thought that she still had some part of Lizzie in her head when she did it. They had kissed so many times before. But this, this felt different from the working-friendly snogs they had shared in front of the crew ~for the job. The kiss tasted of darkness and the metallic hint of danger and excitement. It tasted new. She’d say that the drink had made her just the slightest bit reckless, but it wasn’t true. Not entirely.

She walked him back through her rented apartment. He stopped her somewhere in the middle of her living room not far away from their abandoned dinner (waste of good Indian food, she thought) and kissed her again, and something about how his hands were once again under her shirt and rubbing against her low back made her knees go conspicuously weak. Jacob took advantage of that and subsequently picked her up and carried her bridal style to her bedroom. She tossed her head back and laughed and was still laughing when he placed her down on her bed. “You literally cannot be serious about anything for more than five minutes,” she said as he climbed over her. “You’re about to be proved very, very wrong,” Jacob said, and Jodie had a snarky response forming in her head that died on her lips as soon as he kissed her again. And suddenly getting his shirt off was very high on her list of priorities. She gave up on the buttons and just ripped it, then mentally reminded herself to help him sew those buttons back on if they ever got out of bed.

He didn’t seem to care, but there he was, bare-chest, on top of her, with his lips on her neck and she moaned embarrassingly loud. She could feel him smiling against her skin, the bastard. She sat up briefly to aid Jacob in getting her shirt off, and her bra, and then he laid her back down and relieved her of her jeans and knickers. Not to be outdone, she started undoing his belt but he pushed her back on the mattress and settled over her, kissing a trail down her body. He slipped off the edge of the bed to kneel, kissed the inside of her thighs, and positioned his face between her legs. He looked up at her and opened his mouth to ask a question. She somehow (because she had no idea on how her brain would actually been working) intuited what he was about to ask.

“God yes,” half-spoken, half-moaned.

About a second later her head was thrown back as she felt pleasure course through her body as his tongue rolled against her clit. This simple motion made her gasp out loud. The sound seemed to please him, and he growled low in his throat before attacking her with tongue and lips and gentle teeth, until Jodie was biting her lips and forcing herself not to wrap her thighs around his head. One, then two fingers entered her and she literally gasped as they curled inside her. She dug her heel in to Jacob’s back accidentally, and as soon as he reached up and replaced her hand on her nipple with his she involuntarily pushed harder in to his back with her heel. That was probably going to leave a little bruise, she thought, but he didn’t seem to stop or mind, even when she threaded her hand in his hair. He started focusing intently on her nub, and next thing she knew she was arching off the bed and coming around his fingers. Pulling them from her body, he climbed up over her on the bed.  

Jodie wanted to move, to drag him down on her, to taste his lips once more and herself at the same time, and to return him the favor. But instead she watched him strip as he kept a safe distance between them. A part of her wanted to help, to shorten the torture, and to get rid of that satisfied smirk on his face –yet, another part wanted to enjoy the show, to savor each new glimpse of his skin and to memorize them for her lonely nights. But the impatience that curled in her low belly was hard to tame. Socks and shoes, then the belt and jeans followed, kicked off and the boxers flew somewhere and then he was naked, finally.

“Jodie,” he breathed looking down at her. Fuck! her name sounded so good on his tongue. His voice was broken, his Australian accent more marked, and his eyes were darker than anything she’d ever seen; she just wanted to kiss him absolutely senseless, “…do you have anything?”

Oh, that. How unfair that he should ask her where anything (especially something so infrequently used by her nowadays) was in her post-orgasmic haze. “Ummm,” she said to help, and flailed in the general direction of a cardboard-box by her nightstand. In vain. “One second,” Jacob said, and quickly dashed out of the bedroom, which at once was one of the most hilarious and sexy things that she’d possibly ever seen. She really hoped he didn’t trip over anything because she was not doing first aid on his naked… anything. She heard his suitcase unzip and zip and he came back with a fistful of condoms, swaggering triumphantly. “Bloody Hell,” she said, as he deposited all but one on the nightstand, “You totally planned this whole thing.” “The possibility crossed my mind,” Jacob replied. “Allow me,” Jodie said, with a wicked smile, and pushed him back so he was lying on the bed. She ripped the foil open with her teeth, tossed it aside, and rolled the condom on, never taking her eyes off of him. There was something extremely gratifying about the way that his head lolled back and his mouth fell open. Deciding that she relished the sensation of being in control, she straddled him and sunk on to him as slow as she could possibly manage. “God, Jodz… Jodie,” he sputtered out, “just do it already.” His hands moved to her hips and tightened. “Don’t know why you think this is any easier for me Jacob,” she sputtered out, but put on a veil of crazy confident feminine guile and started rolling her hips very slowly. She bit her lip hard, and looked down at Jacob whose pupils were blown out and just looked absolutely wrecked. His thumb found her clit and started rubbing it gently, and then harder, and then right when she was about to come, thanks Jacob, he rolled them over and started thrusting in to her. It was sinfully good to feel his skin against hers. She wanted everything, wanted to lose herself in the warmth of his skin, the taste of his lips, and to pretend that the world outside her flat didn’t exist. That they weren’t betraying any social convention for coworkers –or acquaintances? –or friends? Really? He was gentle, at first, one hand pressing her right wrist into the mattress, the other wrapped around her hip as he thrusts into her. Again and again and again and then he started to lose some of his control, and the hand around her wrist pushes down harder. It felt so good. They felt so good, fitted so well together and moved so in time with each other. Heat built in her and she could feel the rest of the world fading away into the background, and she wanted to close her eyes because there would be sparks behind her eyelids, but he wouldn’t let her out of his gaze. Just as she didn’t want to stop looking at the blue of his eyes. Jacob pulled almost all the way out of her and thrust into her again, deliberate and slow this time, and Jodie could feel the crest of her climax rising to meet his and she chased it eagerly, rocking her hips back against his. Maybe she was a little out of line, but the look on Jacob’s face told her she was doing something extremely pleasing. She buried her flushed face in the crock of his neck and bit down into the pale, pristine flesh of his shoulders and marked it hers. A low moan from him. And then, his hand at her hip loosened its grip and cupped her face instead and suddenly he was kissing her, all sweet tenderness and heat. Jodie kissed him back hungrily, whining into his mouth. So close. She was so damned close– “Let go,” he said against her lips, after pulling his mouth away from hers. “…you’re beautiful like this. So beautiful.” His accent, music to her ears. Then suddenly he was just hitting the spot, and then she was arching off the bed and seeing stars, and she was just barely aware of his hips stuttering and then giving one final prodigious thrust and collapsing on top of her. They just lay there like that for an indeterminate amount of time (Jodie wasn’t going to be counting anything, she knew that much) until he rolled off of her and dealt with the condom. She was still lying on her back when he got back to bed and he curled up beside her.

Taking this as her cue, she wound her arms around him, pulled him against her, felt his breath on her neck and shivered with post-orgasmic delight. He pressed a kiss to her collarbone, then to her neck, making her giggle, and then he kissed her so gently she could almost cry. Jodie wished there was more to this, more than just her London flat and previous stolen moments in trailers. More time. More of him. Her fingers ran through his messy hair and pulled him closer for another kiss. And then another, until she felt him stirring against her again.

“Fuck,” she stated as her hand moved down his body to cup the curve of his arse. “We’re screwed now, aren’t we?”

He didn’t even try to argue this statement. His hands cupped her face and before she could breathe he kissed her. “Oh yes, we are.”

For the first time in a long time, Jodie felt whole.

-

His return ticket had been booked for the next weekend, but he managed to worm his way out of further events and auditions (“My new agent will kill me later” he jested) so that he could stay two weeks. One morning, he disappeared for two hours, but re-appeared with red and white roses so she forgave him the minor heart attack. “Seriously? Jake?,” the reference obvious, but she accepted them anyway. He disappeared as well an whole day, but she knew it was to see an aunt or an uncle in Essex. Easy to forgive.

Later that month, she followed Jacob back to L.A. (“For work!” she had claimed to her friends who were not buying this shit). He was there, of course, waiting at the airport, and he took her to his flat without any questions. Unexpectedly, there was an extra chest of drawers waiting for her. “Thanks. It would make things easier,” she said in a smile. “I’m looking forward to this.” “Me too,” he said, and kissed her.

It was Jacob’s phone ringing that woke them, and Jodie blinked, the California sun already shining through the window. She didn’t realized she was so tired. The Hollywood way of life -and other private exertions. She was vaguely aware of Jacob groaning, his arms unwrapping from her as he stretched to pick up his phone. She turned back, spooning around him and scattering kisses over his shoulders and neck as he talked. “Hello? Oh, Emma, good morning. Yes, yes, I’m fine. I don’t know, we haven’t… Okay. Yes. Yes, she’s still here.” Jodie frowned. Even though she only heard half of the conversation, she knew he was talking about her. Telling Emma she had stayed the night might not be a good idea. “I’ll tell her. Yes. Thank you. Bye.” He hung up after this little talk and placed the phone back on his bedside table, before turning back and wrapping his arms around her. “Hello.” He kissed her nose and she couldn’t help but smile. “Hello. Hmm, what did Emma want?” “Oh, nothing, just be sure everything was alright. She is planning a dinner this week so, we could go? And she says hello.” “Jacob…” She tried to be serious but it was difficult with his hands on her hips, just upon her ticklish spot. “Why did you tell her I was here?” “It’s true, isn’t it?” “I’m not sure she had to know…” “Oh. She already knew.” “What?” He shrugged. “Said it was obvious and that we should have realized before.” Jodie turned pale, her blood freezing as she wondered what she meant by obvious, and who else knew. And then she remembered the many smiles and teasing and eye-rolling from her friends. Was the great actress Jodie Comer so easy to read? “Are you okay?” he cupped her face and brushed her cheeks gently, eyes full of affection. Oh shit. She was in love with this man -maybe she hadn’t realized it all quite yet. Or maybe she had, and this sudden understanding was like letting out a breath Jodie didn’t know she was holding since months. “More than okay,” she sighed, and let him kiss her, and more.

- -

[johnrmclaughlin]

Never Drink the Tiger Wine - The Johnny 5, Vol 1, Issue 3

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1. Marketplace // Is the craft movement making service jobs hip? #QuickRead. Professor Richard Ocejo's new book, Masters of Craft: Old Jobs in the New Urban Economy, takes a look at the growth of educated urbanites taking traditionally working class manual labor jobs - like butchering, barbering, bartending and distilling - from a sociologists perspective. In this interview with Kai Ryssdal (as well as in the WSJ and FT's AlphaChat podcast), Ocejo spells out the trends that led to these jobs shifting to be part of the service economy: urbanization, the farm-to-table movement, craft/DIY fetishization and, of course, #humblebragging on social media. 2. NYTimes // Asia’s Illegal Wildlife Trade Makes Tigers a Farm-to-Table Meal #LongRead. My friend Rachel's in-depth reporting on the illegal tiger (and other large animal) trade. Amazingly, wild tigers are now outnumbered by tigers on farms. This continues her excellent reporting on wildlife trade in the region, and serves as a reminder to NEVER DRINK THE TIGER WINE! Watch for Rachel's book release sometime in the coming year. 3. Patterns of Transformation // Designing Sex, Death, and Survival in the 21st Century v 1.0 Ida C. Benedetto is an experience designer and co-founder of Sextantworks, famous for their illegal photo walk of the then soon-to-be demolished Domino Sugar factory and the pop-up speakeasy in a water tower called the Night Heron. In this work, Ida takes a deep dive into out-of-the-ordinary activities like erotic parties, witnessed cremations and group wilderness backpacking trips to find their experiential commonalities and create a vocabulary and a guide for others to design "transformational gatherings." Sextantworks has always advocated for others to create the types of experiences they pull off, yet few ever do, which is why Ida put together Patterns of Transformation. 4. Bloomberg // Beer Can Rigs Are Rescuing America’s Craftiest Brews #BeerChat + #LongRead. Like a good beer nerd, I've been following the mobile canning trend for a while, and it's finally getting the media spotlight it deserves. Great insight into the B2B companies allowing small breweries to generate huge lines of fans each week (who are willing to pay around $5/can). Downside is the online blackmarket beer trade with ridiculous social media jargon (e.g., ISO = in search of, FT = for trade). 5. The Bitter Southerner // Leveling the Playing Field for Family Farms #FarmChat + #LongRead. After years of subsidies and corporate farming acquisitions, the economics of family farming in rural areas today are tough. This is a great look at the work of Henry County Kentucky's Berry family (of Wendell fame) across the years. Jodi Cash starts her reporting with farmer-lawyer Big John Berry's implementation of a co-op system for tobacco growers to more recent work by the family to move to organic, sustainable CSBs and a co-op system for cattle ranchers. What else is up, you ask? Sipping: Negronis for Negroni Week (Loyal Gin + Campari + Carpano Antica). Spinning: Ani Difranco - Binary. Eyeballing: @caninecohen, who is helping us acclimate Esther pup to the walks, people, and noises of Brooklyn. Podcasting: WSJ's The Future of Everything. Traveling: Gowanus.

Read something great? I want to know: j (at) johnrmclaughlin (dot) com.