#dying as a human instead of being a dog on a leash that does the bidding of demons. shit hurts every time Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[graphx]

THE LULLABY WAS NEVER RESISTANCE

ITS A CORPSE OF THE CHILDHOOD AND THE LAST TIME SHE HAD GENUINE LOVE

DAMN

gonna make a longer post later on how every single failure in the promised neverland was due to underestimation

isabella never considered other possibilities like actually trusting all the other kids

Sandy and Sonya at Goldy Pond never thought Demons could have human emotions/reactions when going through the same things they did

Norman never considered any other way since his plan was the safest option

Ray didn't see any other way out other than sacrificing himself

and emma says no to ALL OF IT by just CONSIDERING another way

(and even though it would be cool if she faced more consequences/opposition to her ideals its still a great message that considering other perspectives of people you think less of is how you survive)

OHHHH ITS JUST SO GOOD /:D

yeah i impulsively decided to give the promised neverland a rewatch just because i was remembering how crazy fucked up emma and ray’s relationships with isabella are. tbh house escape arc is the only part of tpn that i care about because it’s so important what the house represents as a structure of cyclical self-oppression and cannibalization, and for emma in particular it’s the lie that traditional feminine motherhood (lying down and taking it) is the only feasible act of resistance against the role you were born into (meat). the house is an alternate death sentence, the idea that your only choice is between killing yourself or killing every other person you can in a desperate climb to the top. but there is only one inevitable fate for a sacrificial lamb who walks herself to the slaughter of her own free will. the family structure (specifically the dynamic of daughters inheriting their mothers’ trauma) is the means by which these capitalistically efficient lessons are passed down. anyways sister krone’s death cutting between shots of the children cheerfully eating sausage and then the final shot of the shadows of prison bars cutting across her corpse. yeah. you get it

[tonguetiedraven]

Can I ask for shiro & yuri hurt/comfort where shiro is asked (ordered) to take part in some of the experiments during the rinka observation stuff as he is the only one alive around goros age and yuri is feeling guilty as hell.

I'm sorry I took so long on this prompt ;-; but I hope you enjoy the fic!

— — — — — —

“Stop,” Shirou growled, frustrated at everything and Yuri’s hangdog expression.

“But—” her big eyes (she had the most ridiculous eyes he’d ever seen) shone with tears she rarely allowed herself to shed, “—it’s my fault!”

“Is not. Just. Just leave it.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d been forced back into Section 13. It was even a reason he could almost understand. Something he might have thought of if he wasn’t so pissed about it all.

It had to be Gorou. It had to be the boy that should have been his brother. (That was his brother. At least genetically.) It had to be the boy he’d been strapped next to. The boy who had been tortured with him and the boy who had snapped from the pain and terror of it all.

How long had it been since he’d said his name? Had it been that moment in the lab? The last time he’d called out to his twin and begged him to hold on? The moment he’d decided to do whatever it took to be free?

It could have been. It certainly seemed likely.

“You shouldn’t have to do this! Just because they won’t—“

“We never should have had to do any of it! Not for these damn monsters!”

Damnit. She always pulled that part of himself out. He wasn’t that angry of a person. At least he didn’t consider himself that angry of a person. Not when he considered all the shit that he’d been put through. He should be raging 24/7. He should always be furious and he didn’t want to give these fuckers anymore of his mind or time. Even thinking about being infuriated was infuriating.

They didn’t deserve even that much from him.

“Shirou—“ Yuri reached out for his arm and snagged it before he could get away. She was damn fast despite being such a shorty. “Will you listen to me?! I’m trying to apologize!”

“Save your breath,” Shirou growled and wrenched himself free. He’d always be stronger than her. Thanks to all of this bullshit, he’d always be stronger than any of them. It was just another reminder that he wasn’t human, never had been, and never would be. Part of himself would always be this thing he so hated, and now he was being pulled right back into it. Like a dog on a leash, Shirou had to follow the damn orders.

Gorou’s host needed his aid. He might have gone for Gorou, but for the bastard in his brother, he didn’t want to.

Shirou had very rarely gotten what he wanted.

Yuri stomped after him, determined despite her fury to stick with him until she couldn’t. It was her way of showing support even if it was infuriating. Bastard or not, I won’t let you go alone.

Shirou had been alone for as long as he could remember. Gorou had fought with him for a while. Had fought against the pain and the plans and the plots, and he hadn’t been alone then, but Gorou had snapped, and Gorou had gone silent, and Shirou had been entirely alone.

Yuri stayed in step with him as he approached the guard who was to act like his warden. (Because Shirou was, and apparently always would be a prisoner to Section 13.

No. He’d fight until his dying breath. He would never let them have him. Not entirely. He’d go for Gorou, and he’d go because he had to so he could hold onto what he had. He would not give up. Not ever.)

“Shirou Fujimoto reporting in.”

Stupid how he had to say this like he was just reporting for a debriefing instead of days of testing and torture. “Does this hurt? Good.”

The guard nodded and motioned for him to go into the room. Yuri tried to follow him only for the guard to stop her.

“You can’t come with him.”

“But—“

“It’s fine. I’ll see you later, Egin. Go watch your demons.” He almost said pets, but there were still tears in her eyes and she wasn’t a pretty crier —never had been— but she was a heart breaking crier and the damn woman had started to make him feel things like guilt, and he didn’t want her crying over this. Not when it was horrifyingly normal. He’d been hurt all his life. This probably wouldn’t even be enough to make him cry out.

(Had anyone but his brothers ever been upset that he was hurt? He certainly couldn’t remember it happening.)

“But—“

“Go to your demons, Egin. I’ll be expecting you to buy me a drink when this is over.”

It wasn’t much of an olive branch — Shirou had never been able to extend much of an olive branch to anyone — but it made the tears in Yuri’s eyes look less like heartbreak and more like determination. She gave her head a hard nod and stepped back, fisting her hands and standing taller (still so hilariously short to be such a force of nature) as she did.

“Right. A drink and a meal. Something green.”

“Absolutely not.”

“With lots of vitamins.”

“Disgusting.”

She nodded again as the guard watched them in vague confusion.

“I’ll get Rick’s help. Makiko has been trying new things and has a cake she wants us to try.”

Shirou’s nose wrinkled in genuine distaste. Makiko was beautiful and a horrid cook. Whatever she made, it was guaranteed to be healthy and entirely inedible.

“Don’t give me that,” Yuri sniffed and stood a tiny bit taller. “You’ll need it. Now promise to—“

“No. I’m not promising anything. Just make sure you’re waiting with those drinks.” And with those words, and one last look at tear-filled and determined eyes, Shirou turned to face the pain of Section 13 with the promise of relief afterwards.

He would never stop fighting, and for the first time since he was a child with his brothers at his side, he didn’t feel quite so entirely alone in that fight.

[sunshineandaisies]

Dirty Paws & Wet Kisses

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Modern AU)

Words: ~3.7k

Warnings: language, floofs and fluff

Note: if you ever read anything written by me that includes dogs, their names will always be kinda extra or related to historical figures (i.e. my dog is actually named Theodore Roosevelt) and I will try my best to make their names increasingly extra with every fic that involves dogs

You’d argue that your four year old sheperd mix was the most well behaved dog in all of New York until your dying breath.

Most days.

During your weekly trips to the park on Sunday afternoons, she would sit at your feet, lounging in the sun as she watched joggers go by and playfully saying hello to anyone - be they human or dog - that stopped by to pet the pretty pup while you read whatever book you’d picked up from the bookstore earlier that week.

Sure, there were a few times that she would whine and stare down any squirrel that strayed too close to her, but she never left your side.

Maybe that’s why you had grown so complacent, why you’d stopped looping her leash around the bench to secure her to your side and simply kept the leash within your reach beside you on the seat of the bench.

And it was because of that complacency that you were sprinting across the park, chasing your naughty dog and drawing judgemental stares from other park-goers.

“Hazel!” you called after her. “Hazel, I swear to god I’m taking all your toys away when we get home!” Right after you took a nice long bath to soothe your aching muscles. When was the last time you’d run this much?

You lost sight of her when she disappeared around a hedge, and the internal panic that set in was almost worse than the time that you accidentally emailed your creative writing professor the Harry Potter fanfiction you’d written instead of your final paper. (You still got an A on the assignment, but that’s besides the point).

You see her as soon as you round the corner, happily licking at a stranger’s face as she sat between his legs, and-

Holy shit, your dog led you to the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

The stranger took note of you before you had a chance to say anything, and he raised his brow at you while angling his face away from Hazel’s kisses. “Does this belong to you?” he asked, pinching the tags on Hazel’s collar between his thumb and two fingers. “Hazelnut Mocha.” He snorted. “Is that your dog’s name or your Starbucks order?”

You weren’t sure if it was the amused smile that curled his lips or the quirk of his brow, but his teasing made you feel personally attacked. You crossed your arms across your chest. “Maybe it’s both.”

He shrugged, scratching the spot behind Hazel’s ear. “I suppose that’s one way to never forget your dog’s name or your coffee order.”

You hummed noncommittally before approaching and tugging Hazel away from the handsome stranger. It took considerably more effort than you had thought it would. “I’m really sorry about her,” you apologized. “She’s never like this. I don’t really know what happened.”

He brushed your apology off with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. If a cute girl wants to give me kisses, I certainly won’t complain.” He winked at you, and you wanted to just melt on the spot.

“Well, uh, I should, um-” You cleared your throat, stepping away and dragging a disappointed Hazel along with you. “Again, I’m really sorry. Even if you didn’t mind.”

You turned and hurried away before his smile made your mind any more frazzled.

Two weeks passed before you decided to show your face at the park again, and this time, you were sure to secure Hazel’s leash to your bench, ensuring that there would be no chases across the park and embarrassing encounters with handsome strangers.

The pup resigned herself to her fate and laid at your feet in the grass, her tongue lolling out of her mouth and her golden eyes shining in the sunlight. She greeted the other dogs that passed, and you thought nothing of it until you heard someone call her name.

Well, shit. You knew that voice. That voice had haunted your dreams for three nights straight after the incident two weeks ago.

“How have you been, pretty girl?” he asked, and you hesitantly lifted your gaze from your book to see him knelt in front of you, patting Hazel’s head as she yipped happily and dragged her tongue over his face in sloppy kisses.

Despite your proclivity to stare at handsome men that showered your dog with attention, your eyes were dragged away from the pair when a wet nose nudged your leg. “Well hello there,” you greeted the brown and white dog that sought your attention. You quickly marked your page and returned your book to your bag before petting your newest furry companion. “What’s your name, handsome?”

“Bucky,” the stranger answered.

You glanced up at him briefly before turning your attention back to the brown and white dog. “Aren’t you a handsome boy, Bucky. Yes, you’re so handsome,” you cooed. The stranger chuckled, and you glanced up expecting to see Hazel mauling him with more sloppy kisses, but instead, he was staring at you, amusement dancing in his blue eyes. “What?”

“I’m Bucky,” he clarified before nodding towards the dog. “That’s Dodger.”

“And you just assumed that I was talking about you when I called him handsome?”

And in complete contrast to how he had acted in your previous interaction, he actually looked embarrassed, nervously scratching the back of his neck while fending off even more kisses from Hazel. “I seem like a complete asshole, don’t I?” he asked sheepishly.

You laughed. “Well, I mean… Don’t let this go to your head or anything, but I suppose you are kind of handsome, too. You know, in a handsome stranger kind of way.” You felt your cheeks flood with warmth, and you averted your gaze, hoping he didn’t see just how flustered you were after your admission. You tried to breeze past it altogether by giving all of your attention to Dodger once again, petting him and praising him for being such a sweet boy.

After a moment of you and Bucky speaking only to each other’s dogs, you cleared your throat and commented, “I didn’t realize you had a dog. Was he at the park with you the day that Hazel practically assaulted you?”

“He’s not my dog.”

You blinked. “Oh. Is he your girlfriend’s dog?”

And just like that, all hints of embarrassment disappeared from his face. He quirked a brow and smirked at you. “My girlfriend?”

“Or boyfriend,” you added hastily.

He snorted and shook his head. “It depends on who you ask.”

You cocked your head to the side, and the action conjured up an image of Hazel doing the same whenever you would try to hold an actual conversation with her. “Uh, what?”

His gaze flitted to the ground as he smiled an amused little smile that had you biting your lip and shamelessly staring at the man. “It’s a bit of a joke among my friends,” he began. “Dodger is my buddy Steve’s dog. Some of our friends like to make it seem like we’re dating, but we definitely aren’t. We just know each other way too well.” His smile widened when he looked back up at you. “So to answer the question that you indirectly asked-”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “What?”

“-I’m single, sweetheart.”

You gaped at him, trying to form an appropriate response. This man was frustrating - frustratingly handsome, frustratingly smug, frustratingly able to read you like a goddamn open book. How dare he correctly assume you were trying to figure out if he was single or not?

The sound of a phone ringing interrupted your thought process, and Bucky gave you an apologetic look after glancing down at his phone. “I gotta take this,” he told you. You heard him greet the other person on the other end of the call before calling for Dodger. As he turned to go, he paused for a moment, pressed the phone against the front of his shirt to muffle the receiver, and called over his shoulder. “See you around, Hazel and Hazel’s mom.”

Right. You never gave him your name.

You were cursing yourself for nearly a month for not getting his phone number before he disappeared, and you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you had a smidge of hope that you’d run into him at the park again... But alas, no luck.

You were starting to think that you’d never see your handsome park stranger - although, he wasn’t really a stranger anymore, was he? - but exactly 37 days after your last encounter with Bucky (aka handsome park stranger), Hazel brought you back together in the most heart attack inducing way she could manage.

You’d been sitting on the patio of your favorite little cafe, catching up with Carol and Val over coffee and fluffy pastries, and Hazel had been behaving herself aside from the occasionally whining and begging when any of you would touch your food.

She was behaving until she wasn’t.

You still don’t really know what set her off, but one moment she was sitting prettily and staring up at you with her golden eyes and the next she was breaking free from her leash and sprinting down the street and out of your sight.

You posted on social media asking everyone to be on the lookout for your Hazel and called your friends to help you search for her. You spent hours walking up and down the city streets and through the park that you frequented with Hazel. You called all of the shelters and animal control to see if anyone had brought Hazel to them instead of calling you. You talked to anyone and everyone that you passed on the street, asking if they’d seen your girl.

You tried so much to get your girl back, but nothing panned out.

You were in tears and your feet were sore from walking all over the goddamn city by the time you and the others returned to your apartment, resigned to wait for someone to contact you. Just as you were about to say goodnight to everyone and turn in for the night (read: cry yourself to sleep), your phone rang, and an unfamiliar number flashed across the screen. You shushed your friends and answered the phone.

Please be someone who found Hazel. Please be someone who found Hazel. Please be someone who found Hazel.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Your heart leapt into your throat at the sound of his voice, and for a moment you forgot that you had just been on the verge of a panic attack. “Take a deep breath for me, okay. I can practically feel you panicking through the phone. I have Hazel. She’s okay.”

“Thank you,” you breathed, nodding at your friends in response to their questioning looks. “Thank you so much, Bucky. Is she okay? Where did you find her? Should I meet you somewhere?”

He chuckled. “She’s fine. A little dirty, but she’s fine. As for where I found here...Well, I think your dog has a little crush on me, sweetheart.”

You grabbed your jacket from the coat rack and slipped it on before grabbing your keys. “What does that mean?”

“I came home and found her wandering around the courtyard at my apartment.” He sounded far too amused with the situation, and you definitely weren’t feeling up to dealing with his smug attitude. “She certainly made herself at home here. I may need to fight for shared custody after this.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just tell me where I should meet you.”

“I’ll send you my address.”

And just as he had told you, as soon as you ended the call, he shared his location with you. You swiftly assured Carol and Val that Hazel was okay, and you asked them to lock up when they left before beginning your walk to Bucky’s apartment.

Ten minutes later, you were sat on the floor of his living room, holding Hazel close to you and alternating between scolding her and telling her how much you love her as you tried to hold your tears at bay. Bucky sat on the couch, arms rested on his knees as he watched the teary-eyed reunion with a small smile curling his lips.

“You know, sweetheart,” he spoke up, drawing your attention away from Hazel, and you finally noticed the muddy paw prints on the front of his white tee. “I’m not much of a dog-person but-”

You gasped, covering Hazel’s floppy ears. “How dare you say such nonsense in front of Hazel!” You pressed a kiss between her eyes, whispering, “It’s okay, girl. Bucky didn’t mean it.”

“I did,” he countered, chuckling when you glared at him. “I’m more of a cat-person, but I suppose I can make an exception for Hazel. After all, she seems pretty attached to me. Not that I can blame her.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “She has awful taste in men,” you teased.

“I don’t know,” he argued. “People say that dogs are impeccable judges of character.”

You stood, dusting your jeans off and turned to face Bucky. “Thank you,” you told him, the sincerity clear in your voice. “I don’t know what I would have done if I couldn’t find her. I- I seriously owe you. Whatever you want, just name it.”

His blue eyes twinkled with mischief, and you immediately regretted your offer. “What about shared custody of Hazel?”

“Whatever you want that’s not that, just name it,” you amended.

“What about a date?” he asked instead.

Your eyes widened in surprise and you gaped like a fish, mouth opening and closing, opening and closing, over and over again as you tried to form a response. You certainly hadn’t been expecting that. He watched you with curious eyes, waiting patiently for your answer. Finally, the gears in your brain began to turn again and you answered, “As flattered as I am, I’m not really looking to date right now.”

Disappointment flashed across his features, but he smiled and all trace of disappointment was gone in an instant. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. You don’t owe me anything for being a decent person and making sure Hazel got back to you.”

You smiled softly at him, your fingers carding through Hazel’s fur. “Thank you, Bucky. Really.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

After that night - and after you and Bucky officially had each other’s numbers - you and he would text throughout the week, and you often sent him pictures of Hazel being increasingly goofy as the days wore on. You’d even invited him to the park one Sunday to see Hazel again, but he’d quickly turned you down, asking for a rain check.

He had a date, after all.

So instead, you took Hazel to the park and sent him pictures of the pretty pup lounging in the sunshine, greeting other dogs that passed by, and even licking the camera lens on your phone when she finally noticed you holding your phone out towards her to get the perfect angle. A smile never failed to appear on your face every time he sent a heart eyes meme in response.

Despite the near constant texting, you didn’t see Bucky again for over three weeks, and you’d only seen him because you had run into his friend Steve at the dog park.

It took a moment for you to realize that the brown and white dog that Hazel had instantly greeted once she’d been released from her leash was Dodger, but as soon as the realization sunk in, you looked around for Bucky.

There weren’t many people present, but you couldn’t find Bucky among the dog parents that lingered around the edges of the dog park.

You crouched down to greet Dodger, scratching him behind the ears and happily accepting his greeting kisses. “Hello, handsome. Is your uncle Bucky here?”

“Y/N?”

You turned your head in the direction of the voice, and you furrowed your brows when you saw a tall blond man that you didn’t recognize. Holy shit, was Hazel a handsome stranger magnet? “Do I know you?” you asked, doing your absolute best to keep your voice steady.

“Right, sorry,” he laughed. “I’m Steve. Bucky’s mentioned you a few times.”

You put two and two together quickly. “You’re Dodger’s dad!”

You spent the better part of the next hour chatting with Steve as Dodger and Hazel chased one another around the enclosed area, and you sent a picture of you and Steve to Bucky, happily claiming that Steve was telling you all of Bucky’s most embarrassing stories. (Bucky had sent a text to Steve within seconds of reading your text, but Steve refused to tell you what Bucky had said all while laughing so hard he nearly cried).

By the time Hazel and Dodger were laying at yours and Steve’s feet, panting and entirely worn out from an afternoon of playing, you were ready to say your goodbyes, but Steve quickly caught your attention before you could go.

“I’m meeting Bucky and a few other friends at the bar in about an hour. Would you be interested in getting a drink?” he asked, smiling so widely at you that you just couldn’t say no.

And that was how, after dropping Hazel off at home and making sure she was fed and had a full bowl of water, you found yourself at a sports bar, slinking through the Friday night crowd towards a table in the back.

You spotted Bucky immediately, and you smiled widely when his eyes widened and he choked on his beer before promptly standing to greet you. “What are you doing here, sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart?” you heard one of the men you didn’t recognize ask the others.

“Y/N,” Steve explained, and as if that was all they needed to know, the other two nodded. Steve smiled up at you, greeting, “Glad you found the place okay.”

Bucky quickly ushered you into the booth, sticking you between him and the only other woman present. As he introduced you to the others - Clint, Sam, and Nat - his arm snaked around your shoulders casually.

“So you’re the famous Y/N,” Sam asked, a teasing smile on his face as his gaze flitted from you to Bucky, and Bucky groaned in response.

You chuckled. “I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘famous’.”

“Oh, trust me,” Sam said, “as much as this guy talks about you, I’d say you’re pretty damn famous in our circle.”

You glanced at Bucky, biting your lip in a futile attempt to hide your amused smile. “Is that right?”

He huffed. “Hazel’s the real famous one, sweetheart.”

“Liar,” Nat accused. She turned to you, one perfectly shaped brow raising. “For weeks, it was Hazel’s mom this and Hazel’s mom that, and after that it was Y/N sent me this picture and Y/N told me this joke. I feel like I already know you, and I just met you.”

“So how’s Hazel?” Bucky asked in a clear attempt to change the topic. “Did she have a fun day with Dodger?”

You spent your evening getting to know Bucky’s friends better, sharing stories about Hazel, and listening intently anytime one of them told you a story about Bucky that had your sides aching from laughter. At the end of the evening, you had four new contacts in your phone and plans to meet up with Nat for lunch the following week.

“Need me to walk you home, sweetheart?” Bucky asked when you walked out together, but you shook your head.

“Nah.” You held up your phone, showing him the screen. “I got an Uber.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, nodding. “Okay. Text me when you get home?”

“Of course.” A red Toyota Camry pulled up to the curb, and after confirming it was the car that was supposed to pick you up, you stepped towards it. Ever the gentleman, Bucky opened the door for you, and you slid into the backseat. “Good night, Bucky.”

It was while you laid in bed that night, unable to sleep while Hazel snored beside you, that you realized that the handsome park stranger - the one that was more of a cat-person but would make an exception for Hazel; the one that was dating Steve depending on who you asked; the one that was constantly talking about you to his friends so much that they felt like they already knew you - had wormed his way into your heart.

Did that make Hazel your wing-woman? She certainly did have a proclivity for bringing you and Bucky together, even in indirect ways.

He was on your mind all night and throughout the following day, and by the time your customary trip to the park rolled around on Sunday afternoon, you were buzzing with anticipation. Would he be there again? Would Hazel inexplicably get loose from her leash and lead you straight to the man that had you feeling like a teenager with a crush again?

As romantic as it might have been, you didn’t want to leave those answers up to fate. Instead, you sent him a text not long after you woke up, letting him know where he could find you if he wanted to see Hazel that afternoon.

Unsurprisingly, it was Hazel that saw Bucky first that afternoon when he arrived at the park, and unsurprisingly, she tore her leash from your grip and sprinted towards him, nearly tackling him as he crouched closer to the ground to greet her.

Surprisingly, you were actually jealous of your dog as you watched her give him sloppy, wet kisses.

“What’s that look for, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, angling his face away from Hazel. “Everything okay?”

“Quick question,” you told him. “Is that date still on the table?”

He grinned at you with that smug grin that you had scoffed at the day you first met, that same smug grin that made your heart flutter in your chest and made your breath catch in your throat and made you want to press kisses to his face and-

“I was wondering when you’d take me up on the offer, sweetheart.”

[retrocontinuity]

rev, rev, fight the power: thoughts on the first half of chainsaw man

Spoilers through the end of the Bomb Girl Arc.

Devil Hunting in the Age of Fascism

As one of the cohosts of a podcast on Gundam Wing in 2020/2021, I've been thinking a lot about how authoritarian regimes and the concept of societal control is treated in anime. Which is to say: usually in a very limited sense, and based on the actions of a few bad actors, as demonstrated with its effects on a few unfortunate protagonists. It's not that creators don't care about the issue, but rather a sign that the genre (and yes, I do consider manga/anime to be a genre more than just a medium, but that's for another time) and its conventions are not particularly well-suited to showing you those effects.

So, Chainsaw Man. On an individual character level, Fujimoto has some stuff to say about the choice between death and life, and I do want to talk about that and what it says about the characters and what life means in CSM. But it's hard to tell whether or not he meant to create a world with some really fucked up institutions too. 

For instance, the civilian, non-public sector Devil Hunters. These appear to be explicitly authorized by the Japanese government, to the point where it is a crime for the Public Safety division's hunters to kill a devil that a civilian is in the process of capturing. They don't have guns (this is Japan!) and I imagine they are only allowed to kill Devils, but just, like, think about this. What if you kill someone else in the process of trying to kill a Devil? What if you suspect someone is a Fiend but actually they're just acting weird? What if you kill someone, then claim later it's because you thought they were a Devil?

This is likely the American in me talking, but I can’t help thinking about how badly this would be abused and how horrible an idea that would be. And I can’t help but think about how the Devils allow the world of CSM to separate fears from human nature. By which I mean, in the world of CSM, evil is otherized in a very specific way; they’re represented by very individual, very distinct, and very monstrous representations. Here is the fear of scissors, the fear of sharks, the fear of the future, and so on. But in the real world, we know it isn’t just fear itself that is the problem; it’s people, well-meaning or otherwise, animated by those fears that create the most evil, or people harnessing those fears to gain power. This may be unfair—I don’t know what Fujimoto has planned for Makima, whose mythos and power seems very much wrapped up in the idea of using Devils to her own advantage. But there’s an assumption here that all actions taken towards eradication of the Devils, or maybe just one Gun Devil, is a de facto good. And in 2021, that’s a very unnerving position to take.

Death in Chainsaw Man is a sacrifice. In these early arcs of the series, death is a "contract," an expending of activation energy to achieve something else. So Pochita gives Denji life (which is really a contract repaid, for when Denji gave him life), so the Devil Hunters "trade" something in a contract with a Devil for power (like Aki giving away literal years of his life to his curse sword), so Denji dying to the Eternity Devil would have freed the rest of the team. But there are plenty of deaths in the series where nothing is traded, nothing is given. These tend to be nameless victims or, in one harrowing scene, convicted felons who die at the hands of Makima as she chases down Katana Devil. 

What did they gain? What was the contract formed by the deaths of these 雑魚?

Makima says at some point when she's attacking the gangs that are affiliated with the Katana Devil that "the truly necessary evils are always kept collared and controlled by the state." Which I think is at its face about the fiends and Devils kept “collared” by the Public Safety Bureau. But maybe it’s also about the idea of sacrifice, about giving yourself over to the state, in order to control a world thrown into chaos. The contracts formed by the deaths of those ordinary citizens is meant to bring about an eradication of fear. It gives birth to the Public Safety Devil Hunters, to Devil Hunters in general, to the use of whatever means necessary to achieve an end. But whatever those consequences are, we only see them in the fates of Denji, Chainsaw Man, and the impossible characters around him. 

A state under threat, a state that feels like it must collar evil in order to survive, will have ruinous consequences. I just hope we get to see what those are. 

Just A Teenage Dirtbag, (Bomb) Baby

I read some reviews about Denji being the anti-shounen shounen manga hero which I can presume were written by people whose only frame of reference is Bleach, Naruto, or One Piece. Sure, the Big Three were, in their most simplistic forms, feel-good series, and CSM's first half is basically a feel-bad series, but that hardly makes it unusual. It's really not dissimilar from other manga like Homunculus, Freesia, and Oyasumi Punpun. Of course, only old fogies like me, who still remember getting scanlations of these series off of IRC, and query, of course, whether or not those series are shounen at all, or more like seinen. If it were up to me to name the genre, and of course it is not, I would call it “simply another line of stories about fucked up things happen to fucked up people.”

Many fucked up things have happened to Denji. I’d call it traumatic, but I don’t think “trauma” covers what this poor man has been through. The effect, though, has been to make Denji less than human, even in his human form.

Denji and Power's nonchalance towards the fate of their human coworkers who die to Katana Devil and Sawatari is framed by the manga through Denji as a potential sign of callousness. Kishibe notes it as a sign that they are "insane," in other words, "not like other humans," and thus capable of bringing down something like the Gun Devil, which would otherwise drive "normal humans" insane. 

But like, huh? Denji and Power's reactions are, on the contrary, extremely human, because there’s no reason for them to extend feeling towards other humans. Simply put, they’ve never been human to the humans around them. They seem to be bonded most closely to each other, and in fact almost all the Fiends are, because the wider Public Safety employees treat them so poorly. Remember how the Infinity Devil Arc starts? Basically, they're told to be the advance guard, and threatened to be killed if they ever act out. Denji is kept on a short leash, and is so proud (in front of Reze) that he's allowed to go places on his own now.

Which, I'm not saying that that's wrong. Denji is incredibly dumb, holds monstrous power that could easily be tricked into using for horrible purposes, and appears to be the target of a number of Gun Devil's allies. Power is... well. I wouldn't let her out of sight either. But what Makima does that makes Denji feel so loyal, so utterly tied to her, is simply treating him as a human. She convinces him he has a heart, just like any other human. She tells him about all the love experiences he'll have in the future, because he's just a human teenager. And just like Makima, Reze is able to bond with Denji by treating him like an ordinary 16-year-old horny boy. Is it because as a Devil she knows what he wants the most? What he is craving, and never had? It doesn't matter that Denji had been just an ordinary human before fusing with Pochita or before he began his life as a Devil Hunter; as an orphan growing up on the street, unwanted and unloved, he was no more human than a Devil.  

The ending of the Bomb Girl Arc—with Denji asking Reze to run away with him, only to be stood up—reminded me so very much of Aku no Hana. There's the classroom scenes between Reze and Denji, of course, but mostly I think about how Denji—betrayed, injured, manipulated Denji—still asks Reze to run away with him. I'd written about Aku no Hana before, how one of the saddest things about Nakamura is that she cannot imagine a world beyond her current circumstance (and, in fact, the manga ends up dooming her to stagnation). Denji and Reze are Nakamura and Kasuga's perverse mirror. It is because Denji doesn't have the capacity to imagine a larger world beyond his immediate now, three meals a day and a job and this woman who taught him how to swim, that he asks her to do this impossible thing, to run away with him knowing that to do would mean both of them betraying their masters. It is because Reze knows that it is impossible that she does not meet Denji at the cafe. Reze is more human than Denji, because she is capable of dreams, and because she is capable of dreaming, she knows she cannot afford their luxury. She knows too much about the world and its cruelty. And, so, she walks straight into its open maw, and straight into her death.

I don't think we can take Reze at her word that she wanted to be a town mouse, or rather we should say instead that Reze proves that the division between the town mouse and the country mouse is immaterial. The issue is that both, in the end, are only mice, dreaming of a safety they can never achieve. Safety, in the world of CSM, is neither town mouse nor country mouse. It is to not be mice at all. It is to be the dog that digs them out from the cold winter dirt. 

It is, in fact, to be Makima, the person who orders the dogs to kill the mice.

Denji, aim for the top! Transcend the town mouse/country mouse divide! Or else you will constantly be hunted and used!

(Side note: CSM goes at a break-neck pace, and I think the speed through which Fujimoto rushes through these early storylines has made it very difficult for me to actually connect with the characters. Reze and Denji’s relationship is one of the victims to this pacing. Do I believe that Denji could fall for a girl and be willing to risk it all for her after about 3 chapters worth of interaction? Sure, he’s that kind of guy. But does it work for me? Not particularly. We’ve hardly had time to linger with Reze before she swears she’ll protect Denji forever, as long as he’ll run away with her. Though the reader at that point knows there’s something off about Reze, it’s still just not believable. Reze’s actions seem like someone trying to bulldoze her way into Denji’s affections, and though she herself is a bittersweet character, I just really feel like CSM could have spent less time with Bomb Devil vs Chainsaw Man and more time with Reze and Denji.)

No Ethical Women Under Capitalism

The Eternity Devil arc, for all its mini-boss game feel (it wouldn’t be out of place as one of the floors in Tower of God), struck a nerve with me, if only because it felt, however unintentionally, to be a story about working under modern capitalism. A floor you can never leave, that loops endless, where the only way to escape is to destroy it, literally, from the inside, by making it so painful, an eternal feedback loop of destroying ourselves and destroying it, before it opens its heart to us. The Capitalism Devil threatens us, tries to tear us apart. Asks us to sacrifice the strongest, the weakest, anybody among us, as if by climbing over the bodies of our friends and coworkers, we can come out ahead. It makes us suspicious of each other, ready to tear into any weakness for an advantage. 

No wonder this is the chapter where Kobeni lays bare her reasons for joining the Public Safety bureau. She needed to work, to make money. Her options were to be a sex worker or a Devil Hunter. Either way, she was selling her body to the system. Kobeni is a victim of capitalism, which forces her to do what she hates, for goal that are not hers, and then gaslights us into thinking that she’s wrong for being crazy, she’s wrong for losing her shit, for not being able to handle it.

But... that's an asspull for me, even if it's my ass and I'm the one pulling. I'm truly not sure how to feel about Kobeni. Like, what is her deal?! I’m not sure what to make of her appearance in Chapter 20 in her sister’s hand-me-down. Are we supposed to pity her? See ourselves in her? Even in what I think was intended to be a mic-drop-ish line (at least for her), telling Aki that she didn’t quit because she was waiting on her bonus, landed flat for me, too deadpan to be pathetic and not sharp enough to be actually funny. Part of it may be because she is a character very much shaped by her circumstances as opposed to her personality or any interaction/action she does onscreen, but we don’t actually see her family situation in these chapters. We’re left with a painfully shy and cowardly woman who can’t seem to form any human connections with any of the other characters, who in multiple scenes is shown caving to the slightest pressure or threat.

Do the rest of the women fare any better? I’m not sure. Kobeni is unique in that she does not use her gender/sex appeal to manipulate the men around her and/or Denji (even Power lets Denji cop a feel to get her cat back!). Himeno, Makima, and Reze all hide their intentions for Denji behind the veil of his attraction to them (weak or strong) and are either unable or unwilling to be forthright in their desires and ambitions (Himeno to care for Aki; Reze, to accomplish whatever mission Gun Devil had her set out to do; and Makima, for fuck do I know at this point, but she’s up to something!!). Meanwhile, the men are straightforward to a fault. Did Fujimoto intend this? Is this just a subconscious reveal of his own conceptions of gender and Bitches Be Weird? 

I’m not a person who needs to have a strong female narrative in a story, but when you start a story with a protagonist whose life ambition for many chapters was just to feel a boob, you better be careful, you know? CSM doesn’t lack for women; Makima and Power are both formidable characters in their own rights, self-assured and unbeholden to anyone but themselves. But so far almost every arc has featured a woman offering herself to Denji sexually in order to get him to do what they want. It’s getting real old real fast. 

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Grey Palace

So this a book I’m really hoping to actually finish! It’s a horror slasher story, but it’s set on a cruise ship. I’m posting the first chapter for my followers to read if they’re interested in following along with the creation and storyline! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

----------------------------

A sleek grey seagull was perched on the wooden guard rail around the churning green ocean. It shifted from foot to pink foot, ruffling unruly feathers, and squinted beady black eyes up at the giant ship looming above it. It looked suspicious of the vessel, and even more suspicious of the people boarding its mass.

The Grey Palace was the greatest cruise ship to ever exist--or so all the Yelp reviews claimed. It included casinos and spas and waterparks and food! But only if you pay for it, because it’s not like you already paid $425 for a single ticket for your four person family. 

It was a colossal sea beast, made out of the finest and toughest extra-strength steel plates and boasting the largest size of a cruise ship in the whole world at a staggering 1,854.25 feet in length and 265.74 feet in height. It had a tonnage of 230,000 gross tons, outweighing every other ship in the business. Its hull could shatter icebergs, its bow could split the sea in two, its propellers were more powerful than any jet or rocket in the entire world. Luxurious lounges and steamy spas promised the best relaxation, the waterpark and Kid’s Club proclaimed full entertainment for children, and the restaurants provided the best food on the seven seas. It got its name from the lustrous grey color it was painted, reflecting rainbows all across the body of the ship. 

Everybody wanted to board the floating Palace, and only a select few got the invitation into the Aquatic Kingdom.

But in this case, a “select few” meant 8,700 people.

The boarding dock was clamored with passengers. Families that made the mistake of keeping their luggage on them instead of turning it in to the porters, families that trying to keep all their kids from running off, families already bickering over what they were going to do first, all packed into one area that was treacherously close to the ocean and a giant ship that would easily be able to sweep a fallen victim underneath its mass. One woman had her toddler on a child leash like it was a dog, tugging on the rope every once and awhile when the kid tried to run off. Another mom was herding her family in close to take a selfie, earning disgruntled noises from the children when they had to squint and smile up into the sun. A man was loudly talking to a video camera he was holding, most likely making a vlog for YouTube that would only probably get 67,000 views and 1,230 likes. Worryingly close to the edge of the dock was a pair of kids, pointing into the water and calling out what they saw while their parents obliviously chatted with some other people. Several porters were furiously helping everyone board, sweat beading their brows as they worked diligently. 

The seagull watched them all, raising its beak in a haughty manner. It seemed miffed by the intrusion of so many humans in its territory, but didn’t have the strength or size to do anything about it, so it just gazed judgmentally from a distance. Its dark eyes shifted over to the girl looking back at it, then screeched in surprise when she was shoved, jerking open its narrow wings and leaping away into the air.

  “Come ON, Violet!!” Ethan shrieked.

Violet staggered to the side, nearly tottering into someone behind her while she attempted to regain her balance. She clenched her fists, growling softly in her throat for a moment before letting her anger dissolve away.

  “I’m coming,” She said.

  “You’re being SLOWWWW!!” Aiden yelled, earning a few glances from other people because of his volume.

  “Sorry,” Violet muttered, hunching her shoulders in.

Her family bustled across the port, getting closer and closer to the gangway with each, but before they could cross the threshold, a ship photographer jumped into their path, wearing a painfully cheery grin and brandishing a bulky camera.

  “Would you like to take a family photo before boarding?” She asked, waving an arm to a photobooth set up. The backdrop was of The Grey Palace sailing.

  “Can we, Mama?” Felicity asked Deandra eagerly, tugging at her arm.

Deandra smiled down at her. “Of course, dear!”

They hustled over to the backdrop. Violet attempted to follow, but Tobias stood in her path and firmly said, “Not you.”

Violet backed away obediently, not bothering to argue.

She watched as the seven of them posed for a photo, the epitome of a white, rich family. Deandra was fifty-four, but she was constantly being praised for how good she looked for her age. Unblemished, glowing ivory skin, clear of any wrinkles, and dyed champagne blonde hair. Her neck and wrists were loaded with jewelry, but her hawk-like amber eyes were sharper and brighter than the diamonds she wore, always locating every one of Violet’s flaws.

Tobias was like her toy, even though he was older, bigger, and burlier than she was. He was as nicely dressed as his wife, clad in a tweed jacket despite the summer Whittier heat and expensive jeans and a gold watch that cost more than all their tickets combined, but he still had the face of a lizard, dull blue eyes, and brittle, greying hair that he would slather with enough gel to start a fire. But he was rich, being one of the top congressmen in the state, and had a sharp-tongue that pleased Mother, both audibly and physically, and was very easy to walk all over. Violet guessed that was why Mother even kept him around.

Carly was their pride and joy. She had a supermodel body, thin and tan, with long, luscious blonde hair and the bright blue eyes of Father. She was pretty, but cruel, like a diamond wrapped in barbed wire. Her words were always loaded with venom, manipulative and cunning and bearing no mercy or guilt over what she said. She was harsh and cold, which was probably why she still wasn’t married at twenty-seven, and when Violet told her this after her favorite paints were stolen, she beat her into unconsciousness. Violet still had the long, winding scar across her left side from when she had been lashed with the sharp edge of a broken flower vase. 

Tobias Jr., or just Toby, was the exact opposite of the man he was named after. Out of all her siblings, he was Violet’s favorite. He was a coward and a boot-licker, but he was genuine and had a good heart. He got Violet into The Walking Dead and once cleaned off her back when Father whipped her with his belt after she talked back over something controversial, but provided little help against her mistreatment, being just as scared to stand up to their parents. Still, it was a step up over everyone else. His dark amber eyes were doe-like and his brown hair was always unruly no matter how much he brushed it. In a way, he almost reminded Violet of the seagull, watchful and cautious.

Felicity was Mother’s mini me and Father’s little princess. Her wavy hair showed the natural hue of Mother’s, honey blonde, but her eyes were the deep blue of Father’s. She was incredibly slick and deceptive, as well as exceptionally greedy, always able to get whatever she wants whenever she wants it. She was dripping with as much jewelry as Mother was, maybe even more, and looked at everyone else with great disdain, disgusted at how ugly they were compared to her. Her voice was like the squeal of a pig, and she often preened herself in any reflective surface that could serve as a mirror. At age eleven, she already thought she was the queen of the world.

Aiden and Ethan were nothing but imps. Violet didn’t even know why Mother and Father had them; there was no point in their existence. They just lived to take up space and time and money, but their parents treated them like they were heirs to the throne. They were near identical, with dirty blonde hair in a mushroom-like shape around their heads and eyes so dark they looked brown instead of amber. All they seemed to know how to do was eat food and cause chaos, often forcing themselves into Violet’s personal space just to annoy her. 

That was the Nicotero family. The rich, flawless Nicotero family, perfectly happy without the illegitimate child chained to them by blood.

Violet, the kid who the congressman cheated on his wife to have on accident, named after a flower because her father couldn’t think of anything better than the plant he saw squashed on the side of the sidewalk when he was fleeing the scene after stealing her from her mother’s breast mere days after being born.

Violet, the girl with weirdly pale grey eyes that no one else in her family had and hands that never seemed to stop fidgeting with things and an overly anxious mind that contrasted with a bursting internal temper.

Violet, the library for all the should have’s-could have’s-would have’s, an encyclopedia of everything that shouldn’t have happened, an example of what her siblings were not supposed to be.

Violet, the fifteen-year-old with vibrant petals curled towards her family, but poisonous roots lying beneath, just like her name’s sake.

  “Say ‘cruise ship’!”

  “CRUISE SHIP!!!”

The camera flashed and the photo was taken.

Violet blinked her eyes; they were sore in the sunlight. She shifted from foot to foot as she waited for her family to finish up at the photobooth. She wondered if they would put it on the fridge like all the other photographs she wasn’t a part of. They never put up the things she was in.

  “Come on! Come on! Come on!” Felicity yipped, pulling on Father’s arm. “I wanna get on already!!!”

  “We’re coming, we’re coming,” Father chuckled. He somehow had all the patience in the world when dealing with the squealing Felicity, but once yelled at Violet for taking too long to tie her shoes.

The Nicotero family pushed their way through the crowd to the closest gangway, shoulder checking other people and trodding over feet without pity in the process. Violet did her best to apologize to anyone they disturbed, seeing as no one else was, so she walked down the walkway and glass doors slightly turned around, and when she faced forward again, she got her first glimpse of the place where she would be spending the next one hundred days.

The main atrium was a giant room with a high-vaulted ceiling and looked like it had been carved out of glass; every surface was shiny and spotless. There were spiral staircases and grand steps and visible catwalks coiled around the walls, all bursting with activity. A marble fountain with intricately designed leaping dolphins was burbling softly in the center of the room, and King the Silver Polar Bear, the mascot of The Grey Palace, was standing in front of it, waving to passengers as they came in and occasionally taking photos with kids who came up to him. Violet must have been staring for a bit too long because he spotted her and pointed, then waved her over. Violet shook her head and said, “No thanks” but Felicity shoved her over with a shrill, “Go say hi, Violet! Someone actually wants to see you!”

Violet staggered forward, feeling that sensation of rage bubble up inside of her again, but, like before, it dissipated rather quickly, as there was nothing she could do. She merely sighed and looked up at the large grey bear now looming over her.

  “Umm… Hi.” Violet said awkwardly. What were you even supposed to say to the mascots? Especially when you have to talk to them against your will?

King waved cheerfully. The head of the suit was set in a petrified, open-mouth smile and the eyes were permanently wide and glowing with glee. It was almost unnerving in a way. Was the person underneath the mass of grey fur as happy as the skin it was wearing?

  “Uhh… Sorry, I don’t really know what to say.” Violet said, cringing internally. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. 

King made a dismissive hand gesture, then pat her head. The action felt profoundly awkward, but Violet was polite and said goodbye before shuffling back over to her family with her head ducked. Felicity and the twins exploded into high-pitched giggles.

  “Violet. Don’t run off.” Mother said sharply, staring down her nose as Violet.

  “Yes, Mother,” Violet muttered.

Carly suddenly looked up from her phone. “We should go get drinks. The rooms probably aren’t ready yet.”

Mother nodded. “Good idea.”

She led the pack through a wide hallway, whisking by other passengers like she was the queen of the Aquatic Kingdom. On the way, Toby shuffled over to Violet.

  “I don’t like those people in costumes,” He said. “Gives me the creeps.”

Violet peered up at him. “How old are you?”

  “Oi! Rude!” Toby elbowed her gently. He never tried to purposely hurt her. “So… What do you think?”

Violet gazed around the hallway. It was lit up brightly, casting colorful shadows across the painted walls. 

  “It’s nice,” Violet said. “Nicer than any place I’ve been to. Aside from the house, of course.”

She had been shocked when Mother told her about the cruise a week before her freshman year ended. It was going to be a big family trip, and she was actually invited. Usually she was left out of these things. Being alone at their mansion for a week or so at a time while the rest of her family was out travelling or on vacation had been a normal affair ever since she was eleven.

Toby frowned for a moment at that, then quickly said, “It’s gonna be fun.”

They passed through a set of glass doors and entered onto one of the many decks. Surprisingly, there weren’t too many people out yet, as everyone was probably still getting checked in or exploring. Mother glided over to a canopy bar and began ordering. 

They probably spent an hour at that bar, sipping brightly colored cocktails and chatting avidly over their plans for the trip. Violet stayed out of it, of course. She sat at the smooth wooden counter, twirling a pink drink umbrella and scrawling mindless thoughts in a small purple notebook to pass the time. 

An elbow as pointy as a dagger jabbed into her back at one point, making her pen streak across her page, leaving a permanent black like through the written words. She clenched her jaw and turned around.

  “Yes?”

  “Come ON!” Felicity said. “We’re going to go eat!”

  “Didn’t you hear us talking?” Father squinted at her.

  “Sorry. I must have dozed off.” Violet said.

Carly scoffed. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

Nobody said anything against this. Violet didn’t, either. 

They went to the buffet where lunch was waiting, and Mother grumbled about how many people there were, but they eventually sat down to eat, their plates piled with food. Violet got more than she intended, but ate everything, just now realizing how hungry she was. She got judgemental looks from her family, but she did her best to just ignore them.

After lunch, they finally checked into their cabins. They got the suites, of course.

Mother, Father, and the twins got the largest room, one with a queen bed and bunk beds for Aiden and Ethan. Carly and Felicity room together, while Violet stayed with Toby. It was fine with her, really. She rather be with her older brother than any of the others.

The rest of the day was spent preparing for the trip. Toby took the twins and Felicity to get signed up for the Kid’s Club, while Carly hooked up with some friends also on the cruise, Mother went to make reservations for the spa, and Father already began drinking. 

Violet stayed in her cabin, writing away in her notepad while listening to the TV drone on. She finally got up and went out when the sun began to set, unknowingly stumbling right into a departure party on the main deck.

Music blasted as thousands of bodies writhed around together. Several people were in the pool, splashing around loudly, while others were watching the entertainment shows with great interest. Violet couldn’t stand all the noise, so she ventured to the back of the ship and watched as the land slowly disappeared on the horizon. 

A man leaned against the railing a few feet away from her as the golden-orange sunset was starting to turn a bright red color. After he blew out a wisp of smoke from the lit cigarette he had, he said, “This is gonna be one hell of a trip.”

As the first firework was set off at the deck, Violet replied, “You can say that again.”

[emilywatchescursedshow]

Ep 12 - Faith

Director: Allan Kroeker Writers: Eric Kripke, Sera Gamble, Raelle Tucker

Another X-Files classic story: the creepy faith healer and what’s happening with him. A close cousin of the creepy towns, and definitely piggy-backs in a way I like on the general creepiness of small town factions of Christianity and the weird stuff they get up to. In general I liked this episode, I liked the twist that the pastor’s wife was actually the one who was doing the magic, and I thought it was kind of clever that she was specifically using the magic to target people she felt deserved to die. I also liked how it was clear her character felt justified in her behavior the entire time.

I thought the reaper makeup was fun and the lore that there is more than one grim reaper. Also there’s a line about how keeping the reaper like this is "putting a dog leash on a great white"  which I fucking loved, that was a great line. And the ending where the reaper turns on the wife and smiles while doing it was very satisfying. Even though the reaper makeup & overall appearance of the character was a little simple, I feel like this is the first time the actual villain was a human acting on motivation that is very true to the real world, and by extension the characterization of the reaper was a little more complicated than normal. The smile at the end implies that the reaper really wanted to kill the wife all along, and leads the audience to wonder about what the “emotional state” of the reaper was the whole time. Maybe I’ll start writing reaper fanfic that just retells this episode from the perspective of the reaper. Maybe the reaper also has a crush on Dean Winchester. Who knows.

I feel like the morality aspect of the episode - like who gets to live or die - was a little half baked? Like Dean feels really weird and bad about someone being sacrificed for him (I didn’t catch who it was, I think it was the doctor? which I’m not quite sure why the wife would want to target the doctor specifically but ok) and then he feels weird about letting the girl who is dying from cancer just, continue dying from cancer. I think the end scene with her was supposed to somehow clear up his guilt? Like the perspective of the show was definitely that Dean’s guilt was not deserved, which is good, but I didn’t feel much tension throughout the episode either caused by or with regard to this angst. I guess Dean has a moment of hesitation regarding the lady at the end, but I found myself more annoyed by it than I did worrying that there was a chance Dean would let her get healed. This is clearly a one-off MOTW episode and we’re still building the characters in pretty piecemeal ways, so I’m sure we’re in for a greater amount of Dean angst around the corner. And I do think it matters that we learn in this episode that Dean Really Doesn’t Like the idea of someone dying for his sake. So I don’t think this is a bad plot element, I just thought it was a little half baked.

In the moment comments: - Meh on this creature design (from the beginning of the episode) - Starting in media res w this one - Uhoh Dean’s gonna die bc heart attack - Oh they're going to a faith healer this is another xfiles subject - We love Dean's reliable horniness for petite blondes overcoming his skepticism - Psychic wonder Sam - I don’t believe that god is who's helping the pastor choose - I forgot who Marshall is - "I have this thing" = inoperable brain tumor - Marshall hall dies bc Dean was healed i see - I like this grim reaper makeup - "we do that we're no better than he is" 😒 - "putting a dog leash on a great white" - Why did the dr die then? - Just tell her its trading a life for a life and let her think god is being unjust or whatever - These men have no idea what they're supposed to be doing at any given time - Dean want those officers to put more than the fear of god in him 👀 - I guess Sam gets to save Dean this episode instead of the other way around - It’s gonna kill the wife now - Ohhh Dean is gonna get some maybe - Oh no it's so he doesn’t feel guilty for her death anymore great

I forgot until I went through this how this episode has two tropes I particularly dislike which is the “we can’t kill someone bc we’re the good guys” when another character is clearly being very threatening and the “I can’t explain!” when a pretty bare-bones explanation that already fits within another character’s worldview and would do a lot to change their mind would be simple to construct. However, I think the fact that I didn’t remember these things until later means they didn’t bother me that much.

Again, overall, I liked this episode a lot. I think the actress who plays the wife does a really great job of seeming just a little too Present in all the scenes without being totally obvious which made the twist feel very believable without being totally obvious.

[midnightmarev]

Just To Pet My Dog?!

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Pre-Moxiety

Word count: 2285

AO3 link

Notes: Based off of an incorrect quote by @ssslimyboy

Summary: Whatever Virgil had imagined would happen today, it most certainly wasn’t this! This man nearly died, just to pet his dog! Like, what? Okay, let’s rewind the day a bit to see what actually happened, shall we?

Just To Pet My Dog?!

“Alright, Ann. It’s 4:30. We gotta head out now if we don’t wanna be late for the vet’s.” A whine was heard. Virgil chuckled. Anastacia really didn’t want to go the vet. Virgil couldn’t really blame her. He himself never liked going to the doctor’s office either.

“Wruff!”

“I know, Ann. But it’s just a check-up,” he said, finding the leash as well as some of Anastacia’s favourite treats. She starts wagging her tail when she catches their smell. She was a beautiful albino German Shepherd, and he’d had her since she was a pup.

After another minute of dosing her with love, they were out of the door. It took about 15 minutes to get to the clinic, and their appointment was at 5 pm, so they would have some time to spare once they got there.

They were walking peacefully down the street when Virgil was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts at the sounds of tires screeching. Virgil looked up and saw a bespectacled man with curly honey-brown coloured hair. And he was crossing the road at what one would call superspeed without a care for his life. All Virgil could do was stand there and stare. What the actual hell was going through that man’s head?! The road was heavily trafficked this time of the day with people just wanting to get home from work.

Virgil visibly winched when a bus nearly hit him. Luckily the bus driver stopped just in time to not hit him. What was this guy thinking?!

Oh no! A car! Virgil stands there in silent terror and anxiety, praying to any and all deity that the man stops before he’s run over. He doesn’t, but the car does, and he slides across the hood. And a second. And third. And suddenly he’s standing on the pavement in front of Virgil, out of breath. But he’s smiling like a goofball? He seems super excited. Why?

“Oh my gosh!! Can I please pet your dog??” he asked, looking like he had to physically restrain himself from attacking Anastacia with love and pets and cuddles.

The question catches Virgil entirely off guard. What?

Anastacia also seems baffled. Humans were weird, but she never thought they would want to risk dying just to pet her.

“Um… sure?” Virgil hesitantly answered. And the man began to pet Anastacia, who gladly, but very confused, accepted the soft strokes to her fur.

“Did you just- did you nearly get hit by a bus and slide across the hood of three cars just to pet my dog?” Virgil asked incredulously after he broke out of his stupor.

The man giggled while petting Anastacia and getting concerned face licks from her. “Obviously.”

Now, Virgil wasn’t really the type to fall for people just like that, but the only thought that crossed his mind after that response was ‘is this love?’ and Virgil was in a daze. Here was someone who risked his life to say hi to Anastacia, because he thought she was the most important being in the world. Just like Virgil did.

All Virgil did for the next two minutes was stare at the man. The man who nearly got himself killed to pet Anastacia. The man who almost died and was now cooing at Anastacia like nothing had happened. The man who now casually told Virgil his name. “I’m Patton, by the way.”

And instead of answering Patton politely with his own name all Virgil could say was “You could’ve died! Are you out of your mind?!” And Virgil, anxious, awkward Virgil, internally facepalmed at his own words.

“Hmm?” Patton looked up at Virgil, eyes widening. “Oh my, I’m terribly sorry for distressing you! I can be a bit impulsive at times,” Patton sheepishly admitted. “And I’ve never seen a white German Sheperd before, and I kinda let my impulsiveness take over.” He looked down to Anastacia again, emphasising it by scratching her behind the left ear. He looked very guilty. That would not do.

“Uhm, I get that. Not many have. Well, she’s not just white, she’s albino. And albino German Shepherds are rare, to say the least.” Virgil scratched his neck, not knowing what to say next. “Where were you headed?” he then asked, feeling extremely awkward.

“Nowhere in particular, really. Just needed to clear my head. Had a small argument with my brother.” Patton looked, and sounded, sad at that. Why did Virgil always screw things up? Patton had been in a good mood for getting to meet Ann, and now Virgil made him think about something bad that happened to him. Stupid Virgil.

“I- I’m sorry to hear that. But that happens sometimes, right? Between siblings?” Virgil asked, trying to help. He didn’t have any siblings, so he didn’t really know the feeling. And he never spoke to his parents. They had basically disowned him at this point. But that wasn’t the same as having an argument with someone you loved and who loved you back.

Patton nodded. “I suppose. It’s just not often it happens, but it’s too often for my taste. I hate fighting with him,” Patton said, just as sadly. “But enough about me!” His cheery smile was back. “Where are you two cuties headed? Maybe I can join you?”

“Uhm, we’re just going to the vet for a check-up. But uh, sure?” Virgil stammered out, still trying to process the innocent nickname.

“A check-up? Has she been sick?” Patton asked worriedly. They started walking together.

“No no, she hasn’t. It’s just standard procedure with albino dogs. They just need to make sure her immune system is alright, and no genetic errors have popped up, or something like that. Anastacia’s as healthy as can be.”

Anastacia whined at the mention of them going to the vet. Strangers groping on her body was not her pack of treats.

Patton chuckled. “Sounds like someone doesn’t want to go, though. And that’s such a beautiful name! Anastacia.”

“Yeah, she’s been complaining a lot today because of it,” he smiled down at her. She responded by looking up at him, innocently. Their interaction made Patton giggle, and oh if that wasn’t the most beautiful sound Virgil had ever heard.

“Well, I don’t blame her. Going to the vet isn’t the most fun thing to do with your afternoon. You know? If it’s the vet just down here, you might be lucky, Anastacia. My old friend, Logan, works there, and there is no one as gentle as him!” Patton happily exclaimed, bending down to her to scratch behind her ear.

“Really? Do you think you would be able to make him do the check-up? She’s not very comfortable with most people, and last time she bit the vet we ended up with…” Virgil trailed off, remembering the day. He was very picky with who got to examine Ann, and they went through several vets before ending with the one she bit.

“Really? Patton asked, looking down at Ann, who purposely avoided looking at him. “So she chooses who get to examine her, or what?” Patton enquired.

“… and I’m also really “picky” with who is allowed to examine her,” Virgil sheepishly admitted.

“As you should be. She deserves only the best and most caring hands to do the examination!”

Virgil was glad he wasn’t the only one who thought her a treasure to the world. She was his emotional support animal and had helped him get through some of his roughest times and a lot of panic attacks. He would only accept the best for her.

Before they knew it, they were at the clinic. Virgil sat with Ann next to him while Patton was talking to the receptionist about getting Logan to do the examination. They had arrived ten minutes before the check-up, so they had some time to themselves while waiting.

Patton and Virgil held a light conversation, talking about anything and everything. They really hit it off.

“Anastacia?” someone asked. Virgil looked up to see a man dressed in the usual vet attire. He had a tie around his neck, making him look even more professional than any of the other vets. He had glasses on, similar to Patton’s, and black hair slicked back.

“That’s us,” Virgil answered. He encouraged Ann to stand up and say hello. He really hoped this Logan was to her liking. It seemed so.

“Salutations. Please, follow me,” the vet, Logan, said, motioning them towards a room down the hall. “In here, if you will.”

Virgil nodded. He went inside the examination room with Ann following on his heel.

The human vet the nice, but crazy, human had introduced her to was not so bad. She still didn’t like it here though, and would much rather go home.

“Patton told me she bit the last veterinarian to examine her?” Logan inquired.

Virgil looked a bit sheepish. “Yeah, she’s not all that crazy about going to the vet, even if it’s only a check-up.”

“I see,” Logan mumbled. He then went to a basket to search for something. When he emerged, he had a plushie in hand. “Here, this should help her with what I assume is her anxiety.” He handed the plushie to Ann. “It has helped my own canine companion a great deal.”

Virgil watched as Anastacia cautiously sniffed the plushie before slowly taking it, accepting coordinated and gentle strokes to her fur by skilled hands. No other vet had ever been like this with her. He faintly smiled.

“Now, if you will guide her to lie here?”

The examination went well. She was calm all throughout and not once did she growl at Logan. When the examination was over, Logan declared that she was much healthier than most dogs her age.

During the examination, Virgil learned that Logan had a husky named Laylin, but whose pet name was Star. He learned that Patton and his brother, Dee, were really close and it hurt Patton a lot on the rare occasions they fought. He also learned that Patton was very much gay and very much single. And he was waiting for Virgil and Anastacia.

“Salutations, Patton,” Logan greeted when he recognised Patton, sitting and waiting for Virgil.

“Heya, Lo! How did it go?” he asked. He looked genuinely worried. It was sweet. He already had formed some sort of connection to both man and dog.

“Anastacia is as healthy as a dog her age should be. It’s not many dogs that have the optimal health, but it seems like you are excellent at keeping her at peak health,” Logan said, the last part directed towards Virgil.

“Ooh, that’s good to hear! OH! Maybe we could set up a playdate so that she and Star can meet each other! And Nini could join too! She’s Dee’s snake! She’s sooo cute!! They would love each other!” Patton exclaimed, making some of the other patients look at him with various expressions; pet and owner alike.

Virgil and Logan chuckled at Patton’s antics. “You know, it would be good for Anastacia to interacts with other dogs, and to have a healthy experience with animals that aren’t dogs,” Logan pondered to Virgil. He already knew Patton would win. Nobody could resist his puppy dog eyes, and once he’d made up his mind, there was nothing that could deter him.

“Why not. My friend, Roman, is always on my ass about me having to leave the house more,” Virgil shrugged. They seemed like kind people, and his anxiety wasn’t telling him not to.

“Language!” Patton scolded him. Virgil was so surprised he first stood with his mouth open like a goldfish before bursting out laughing. “What? There are innocent ears here!”

When Virgil’s laugh died down to a giggle and had gotten a hold of his breath again, he looked incredulously at Patton. “You just do that? Scold people for their language? At the vet’s?” Virgil giggled.

Logan leaned over. “You’ll get used to that. And no, not just here. Anywhere,” he stage-whispered.

They laughed with each other before exchanging numbers. Logan had to get back to work, and Virgil urged Patton to go back and clear things up with his brother. Virgil could see the strain in Patton’s smile and the pain in his eyes.

Patton insisted on following him and Anastacia home, though. “Just to make sure no one else tries to cross the busy road to pet her,” he joked, bumping his shoulder into Virgil’s.

They said their farewells at the door, Patton declining the invitation to come inside for a glass of water. He needed to get back to Dee and Nini. Patton gave Virgil a small hug instead, saying thank you for being allowed to befriend Anastacia as well as being a well-needed distraction from his thoughts.

After Patton had left, Virgil gave Anastacia some of the promised treats for being so docile with Logan, before letting her trot into the living room and jump onto the couch. She was proud of herself. She had singlepawedly made sure her human got new friends. And a love interest. Dogs above knew he needed love from another human. And if she got new animal friends out of it, who was she to complain?

Virgil sat next to her, scratched her behind the ear, and grabbed his phone from his pocket. He was so going to text Roman about his crazy day. He wrote a short message saying he so needed to talk face-to-face because his day had been beyond absurd. Before he pressed send, he looked at Anastacia, smiled, and thought about Patton’s smile and adorable giggle. Only one thought occupied his mind. Ann looked at him and voiced it:

“Yeah, this is love.”

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Sixty-Two: Dropped Off ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Madara ] [ SasuHina, vulgarity] [ Verse: Of Monsters and Men ] [ AO3 Link ]

“Ugh, that movie totally bombed. I can’t believe I wasted money on a ticket…”

“Really? I didn’t think it was that bad. I mean, at least it was something to watch…?”

“No way, it’s two hours of my life I’ll never get back! Let alone the price of admission!”

Trailing behind as her friends bicker, Hinata keeps her opinions to herself. This lot tends to be rather...set in their ways when it comes to matters like this. So she typically just smiles and nods.

At least they thought to invite her.

Doing just that as one looks back to confirm their bias, Hinata can’t then help a glance to the other side of the street.

...it’s empty.

That’s strange...she could have swore she saw -

“C’mon, Hinata! Get in - we’ll drop you off by your dorm, okay?”

“O-oh! Right.” Finagling her way into a rear seat, Hinata mostly zones out as the ‘discussion’ about the film continues. In truth, all she can think about is a good night’s sleep. Maybe give Sasuke a quick text to let him know she made it back okay...not that she told him she was leaving in the first place. She just...didn’t want to deal with him lecturing her about safety. Again. After all, she did as asked: she didn’t go alone. That was all he’d cautioned: stick with a group, especially after dark.

���Okay, here we are! See you in class Monday!”

“Mhm!” Opening the passenger door as they pull up alongside the entrance to her dorm’s parking lot, Hinata turns and gives a wave as they drive off. The bright entrance to the multistoried building is like a lighthouse for her little exhausted ship of a body. Ugh...no more late movie nights. At least she doesn’t have class tomorrow…

Digging out her phone, she starts walking as she pulls up her conversation with Sasuke. It’s been a few days since he’s checked on her...a little weird, but also a little refreshing. He’s been so paranoid lately…

Eyes on her screen and senses dulled with exhaustion, she doesn’t notice the near-silent engine behind her, or the featherlight footsteps. It’s not until an arm locks like an iron bar around her middle that she gasps as a rag covers her mouth. In breathe the chemicals that quickly begin to befuddle her mind. Hands reaching to try and tear the limb away, her phone drops to the asphalt, kicked in her struggle under a nearby car.

It only takes a few seconds. In a blink, she’s in the mystery vehicle, which pulls away from the promise of safety that is her dorm.

Blocks away, having been up since sundown, Sasuke finishes a shower after his typical evening workout. Towel dragging down his face, he glances to a clock. It’s not too late yet...maybe he’ll give Hinata a quick text, see if she’s awake. That is, after he waters the plant she gave him. At least he hasn’t killed it yet.

When he pulls up her message history, he’s surprised to find a new notification. Seems she beat him to the punch.

But the message within sharply furrows his brow.

Heyfdg

...what the hell? Did someone grab her phone and hit a few unintended keys before sending that? Sent fifteen minutes ago...surely by now she’d send an apology text and an explanation.

Something in his gut clenches with a nauseous knowing.

Throwing on a fresh outfit, he skips the elevator and instead quickly climbs down the railings of the apartment building stairwell. In a matter of seconds, he goes from the tenth floor to the ground. He also forgoes his car, eyes flashing red as he shifts and lets buried biology go to work.

Too fast to be seen, he cuts through the city nightlife to the campus his witchy companion attends. Shifting to a fully human guise before moving to the door, he glances through the glass in an attempt to spot her...then glances up to the proper window on the third floor. Slipping into shadows, he simply leaps from sill to sill, gripping their edges with sturdy fingers before peering through her panes.

Empty. Everything in order.

...what is going on?

Dropping back to the lawn, he takes out his phone and gives her a call. It rings and rings, but...no answer. Her little message plays, and he mutters, “Hyūga, you better have a damn good explanation for this.” Shifting again, he takes a slow walk around the grass and parking lot near her building. By now, he’s more than familiar with her scent, heightened senses letting him pick up far more than your typical human nose. Not quite Kakashi’s werewolf levels, but..good enough.

When he finds a trace, he’s standing near where cars can pull in and out of the lot. Taking  a deep breath, he tries to guess the time passed based on its strength. Half an hour, maybe? One last time, he pulls out his phone, redialing her number.

...then he hears it.

It would be nearly impossible to pick up for anyone else, but shifted, he hears the subtle vibrations of metal against asphalt. Looking around, he narrows it down, crouching behind a car.

There. It’s her phone. Screen cracked, it was clearly dropped.

Panic quickly bubbles up in his gut. Why did she drop her phone? Why didn’t she pick it up? Where the hell is she?!

Cutting the call, he instead tries his brother. “...aniki, I -”

“Sasuke, you need to get here now. I was just about to call you.”

Oh shit. Oh fuck. “...did he find her?”

“Yes. He’s on his way - she was just brought in.”

“Where?”

“North headquarters.”

“...I’ll be there soon.” With a press of his thumb, the call ends.

For a moment, he stands stock still. Eyes wide and expression bordering on manic, his chest shakes with trembling breath.

He knew this would happen...he knew...and he didn’t protect her. While he realizes he couldn’t just derail her entire life to keep her safe...he started all of this when he saved her life. And it escalated when she saved his.

...and now she’s in danger far greater than a random Nightwalker attack.

Before he can stop it, his grip on both phones shatters them into crumpled metal and broken glass. He’s full of a myriad of emotions. Anger, disappointment...and fear.

In a blink, he flickers from view. Even for a vampire, he pushes the limits of his body to reach maximum speed. Any moment he taries might be her last.

Hinata...wait for me…!

I’m sorry…

Skidding to a stop outside the imposing manor that Madara claims for his main base of operations, Sasuke struggles to catch his breath. That’s strange...he doesn’t see the typical anthill of activity - increased security - that comes with a visit from their patriarch. Red eyes squinted under furrowed brows, he jogs up to the front door. Time to find Itachi and figure out what the hell is going on.

But as he reaches for the handle, it opens from within.

And Sasuke’s heart stops.

Looking down at him with an almost bored expression, Madara manages a hint of a smirk. “Well now...I was beginning to wonder when you would join us, my boy. Come...we have much to discuss. And there’s someone who’s been dying for you to arrive.”

Temper ignoring any trace of reason he might have managed, Sasuke frenzies on the spot. All control lost as deep-rooted instinct overtakes him, he makes to launch forward, nails sharpened and fangs bared.

But iron-like arms pin his own behind him, holding him back like a rabid dog on a leash.

“Keep your head, Sasuke.”

Like a punch to the gut, his brother’s voice cuts through his mental fog. Completely unphased, Madara simply stares with his same expression, not a hair out of place - he didn’t even flinch.

“...aniki…!”

“Remember your place.”

At Itachi’s words, he gives in to the inevitable dizziness and fatigue that come from losing a frenzied state, head bowing and shoulders wilting in his brother’s grip.

“...now, if we’re all ready to be civilized,” Madara then drawls, “we’ll be far more at leisure to speak comfortably inside. You’ve always had that spark of temper, Sasuke...I know it well. Therefore, I will overlook this little fit. You must learn to think before you act. Being rash will cost you.”

Still limp, Sasuke staggers a bit as Itachi slowly releases him. Catching his eye as he lifts his head, Itachi gives a look that - in any other eyes - would be a blank yet stern glance to mind his manners.

But Sasuke knows his brother better than anyone. He can read between those lines. Patience, he says silently. It’s not yet time.

Gritting his jaw, he gives just as hidden an agreement. Itachi is right. They’ve come this far...they can’t let anything get in their way. So, he squares his shoulders and makes to follow.

They better pray they didn’t give her a single scratch...or I will be spilling blood tonight.

                                                            .oOo.

     :3c Whoops, my hand slipped, and now we have angst.      So this is honestly my favorite series in the series, lol - I might have to revamp it once the year long challenge is over, and make it a proper fic. Cuz I enjoy this way too much!      Seems Sasuke's finally been outplayed - Madara's gotten his hands on the little witchy woman. What does he want with her? Well...I guess we'll have to wait and see!      And also, a small note: as some of you might remember, the Nightwalker universe is my own original twist on monster characters, complete with its own world and lore. And the frenzy state Sasuke slipped into when Madara not-too-subtly made his threat? That was a big deal. Frenzy is a Nightwalker's last resort when in danger, angry, etc. It's a reversion to the most basic of instincts: a major power buff, but at the cost of their conscious mind. So the fact that even just a hint of Hinata being hurt flung him all the way into being frenzied is a big deal. Think Naruto going bijū mode against Pein, but straight to all nine tails in an instant. And he didn't even SEE her hurt - he doesn't even know if she is. BUT, he knows Madara is big trouble, and his mind snapped straight to a frenzy against one of - if not THE - most powerful Nightwalker in Japan.      Jussayin' :3c      Aaanyway, it's late, and I'm v tired, so...time for sleep! Thanks so much for reading n_n

[amazignphil]

If you still want to believe that humanity exists, somewhere on this earth, you might wanna avoid this post. This will be long. This will be hard and this will definitely not be me trying to say I have humanity. Because I don’t. Nobody does anymore.

Reblog this if you will, or if you want but let me just say this. I am sorry beforehand. I am gonna talk a lot and i am gonna mention some gore and a lot of inhumanity.

Haven’t people always told you that “you should be good” or “be kind” or “be human”? Why has no one ever told you what you do when people AREN’T BEING KIND? why is it the automatic answer to people being suckyassholes is to be KIND in return? How is me not stepping on the tail of a dog after it bites me a good thing? Why should i just get my injections and let it be because IT HAPPENS?

How is the answer “its okay let it go it happens” supposed to explain anything? what its purpose? why is it that thats the answer we have the second something goes wrong. the second someone does something wrong, we reassure them it happens. we reassure the person being done wrong that it happens?

how is the answer “it haoppens” supposed to justify anything. It happens. It happens because you let it happen. Befre anyone starts bsing me saying that “girls ge raped are you saying that LET it happen?” and to those who thought that, no. girls don’t let it happen.

why should girls be the one that needs to protect themselves? why cant boys just CONTROL themselves? A person will try to console a rape victim saying, “its okay. i am sorry. but it happens. you’re not the only one.” and a friend of the rapist will reassure the rapist saying, “its okay. it happens. something people just can’t control themselves.”

its wrong. the phase “it happens” shouldnt fucking exist. yaknow why? let me throw at you something that happened to me today.

I was in a car (not our car because something was wrong with the radiator of the car and it was overheating the engine and stuff) and because my dad already has head injury, he called a driver who managed to borrow his friend’s car to drive us.

on the way back, this motorcycle/bike tries to cross the road from left to right through the zebra crossing. You know... the crossing used for PEOPLE to cross the road? Yeah that zebra crossing. Our driver honked at him asked like the “it happen” bengali scene it is, pulled down his window and actually politely asked him, “is this how you’re supposed to cross the road?” (no he wasn’t. he isn’t.) 

This guy, clearing on some kind f high, fucking trist to pull open the door f the side my sisters sat in at first instinct. My sisters smart so she locked both the windows and the door the second he climbed off his bike and started yellling. He couldn’t to my sis so he instead pulled open the door of my driver which again in typical bengali “it happens” scene is pen and my dad has to reach over and cover him from the fucking hits he’s throwing with his helmet at the driver and the car. My dad already had an head injury and guess what tis fucker did? 

he say the bandage on my dad’s head and hit that exact place hard with his fucking helmet thrice. THREE FUCKING TIMES. 

The guy didnt even have a single license plate on his motor. We couldn’t do anything abiut it. The guy also trashed the windshield of the carwith his helmet to the point tine little pieces of glass had come inside our car and we had to later clean it out. 

At that point.. i was just done with humanity. I had given up on it. I was done with it. I knew for a fact it had to be dead, at least inside to be this fucking cruel without a fucking reason and to resort to violence as thr FIRST straw. 

Since we were in the middle of a huge highway with extremely busy “it happens” bengali traffic, we had to pull to the side of the road when a woman, clearly seeing my bleeding dad, our broken car, and our tear faces came up to us to ask for money.

we never say no to people for money because they might need it for more than us and its okay. we’re okay with sharing. But at that time, i was furious. i lashed out.

At the women. At the woman asking for help. 

i lashed out someone asking for help not even five minutes after i learned how inhumane people could be. I became one of those inhumane people. 

And when I started crying about this and ranting the most stupidest ideas i’ve ever heard, my sister felt like it was the time to draw a line and snap me out before i loose all my “humanity that is left” nd she punched me. 

She punched me to stop me from becoming more inhumane but thats when she started crying. Because it wasn’t just her trying to pull me out of it, it was also her anger leashing out at me. She resorted to “inhumanity” to snap me out of my trance of being inhumane after i saw someone being the most inhumane person i’ve ever, and hopefully the only one, met. 

if this cycle doesn’t tell you humanity is dying each second through other people inhumanity, then i dont know what ever will. People stood by watching these guy(guys since the biker had other friends helping him hit the car and my dad) be this inhumane creature and turned a part of themselves to inhumanity by turning away from the scene and getting help. 

inhumanity is a disgrace that brings itself on through itself and catches other peoples with its long ass claws. Staying away from inhumanity? how do you do THAT when everything you do something wrong, something inhumane, people say “IT HAPPENS.” like its what HUMANE. LIKE ITS WHAT HUMAN DO ALL THE TIME. 

IT ISNT. IT SHOULDN’T BE. THE FACT THAT IT HAPPENS BECAUSE OF THE PHRASE IT HAPPENS SHOULD BE MORE THAN ENOUGH FOR ANYONE TO UNDERSTAND WE’RE CURRENTLY AT WITH THE WHOLE CONCEPT OF “SOCIETY AND LIVING TOGETHER IN PEACE AND HARMONY THROUGH MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING AND BOND” BITCH. THIS SOCIETY IS MAKING INHUMANE THINGS HUMANE BUT SPREADING “IT HAPPENS” AND WE’RE UST... GOING WITH IT. LIKE PUPPETS. WHERE’S THE “MUTUAL BOND” IN THAT. WHERE’S THE PEACE IN THAT?

Inhumanity is what i would say is the most common human trait i know of. 

[mintyjin]

neighbor au: choi youngjae

when you moved in, many of your new neighbors came by your apartment to say hello

you tried your best to remember their names and faces, but you just couldn’t

there were too many people and each meeting was exactly the same

“Welcome to the building! Are you a student? Oh, how interesting! Well, do stop by for tea someday soon!”

monotonous, boring, blah

you do remember one person, however 

about a week after you moved in, you were waiting on the elevator to take you back to your room when suddenly, a cotton ball attacked you

and then it barked 

ok, so it wasn’t a cotton ball, but a small, fluffy white dog

and it was adorable. like really. you almost started crying in the lobby 

“Coco, NO!” you hear, and then two hands reach down to pick the tiny dog up 

you’re like nononono it’s fINE i love dogs so much

but then you look the owner in the eye and woah boy 

you thought the dog was cute? the owner is giving you a religious epiphany 

he apparently doesn’t notice your jaw fall a little bit at how angelic he looks, especially with such a cute dog next to his face, and just says, “I’m trying to train her not to run wild as soon as I let her off the leash... it’s not going that well.” 

you pull yourself together and laugh and say, “She’s so cute, though! You can’t get that mad at her.” 

he’s like ugh,,,,,, you’re right... I would die for her

and he’s trying to act annoyed and scowl but his stern expression melts when his dog licks the side of his face 

the elevator doors slide open with a ping! and you both step inside, pressing your respective buttons 

the elevator is the slowest thing on the planet and for once, you’re grateful, because now you get more time with cute thing 1 and cute thing 2

“Um, I’ve never seen you around before,” he says, “Are you a new tenant or just visiting or???”

you tell him you’re new, that you just moved in last week

“Well, maybe I’ll see you around, then? I’m Youngjae, by the way. This is Coco.” 

“I’m Y/N! And yes- just let me know if you ever need a dogsitter because I just met her and I love her so much, it kind of hurts.” 

he laughs and he’s like ah, maybe you can walk her with me someday?

and as the doors slide open and you walk out, you tell him that sounds delightful, that you’re in 509 and are typically there after 6pm, so he should feel free to drop by 

with his dog, of course

and as the doors slide shut, you hear him yell, “See you soon!” as he waves goodbye with coco’s tiny fluffy paw

and you don’t really expect to see them again soon, but a few days later, you run into them in the hall

youngjae holding coco on a leash

and the little dog bounces up to you, pawing at your leg

you die. she’s sooooo cute is she real? youngjae are you sure she’s real? 

he’s like yes I’m sure cause she peed in the kitchen last night and it was disgusting 

but not even a minute later, he’s cooing over her as she flops on the ground for belly rubs 

you’re like youngjae, my man, make up your mind

another day, you were in your building’s laundry room when youngjae came in, toting a laundry basket 

as soon as he saw you, his face lit up

but you were like... no coco? 

he’s like unfortunately, she barks at washing machines

and while you’re there, both of your machines stop working 

you’re shaking yours and cursing under your breath

“stupid fucking sonofabitch machine-”

and he’s like hold up, new tenant, i’ve got this 

and he raises his palm and smacks the machine right in the middle of it’s lid with a loud cluak! sound

sure enough, it starts working

he does the same to his and again, it kicks back up

and he does all of this like it’s the most normal stuff in the world

as if you’re not astounded he knew the exact location to hit the washing machines 

and you’re like... hey youngjae,,,,, can I get your number in case the machines ever break on me and I have two broken hands and can’t hit them

he’s like,,,, sure, but if you have two broken hands, just ask me to do your laundry for you, ok???

and that’s so endearing awh omygoodness this boy is so cute 

he sets his name in your phone as “coco’s human” 

and instead of hanging around being bored while waiting for your laundry to finish, youngjae is like... wait here one sec... and then he dashes out of the little room 

comes back a few minutes later slightly out of breath with a bluetooth speaker in hand

“Let’s do karaoke!” 

“Youngjae, we’re going to get kicked out.” 

“I don’t see anyone else in here!” 

and that’s how you end up jumping around the laundry room singing into your phone, which you were holding like a microphone 

feeling a little silly because it turns out youngjae sings like a goddamn angel 

“This isn't fair, you’re so much better than me at this,” you joke

“Practice makes perfect, Y/N.” 

“Listen here you little-” 

he just runs away, laughing his butt off

and when your laundry is finally done, you’re actually kind of sad about it

but you pile all your clothes into your basket and youngjae walks you all the way back to your apartment

and a few days later, you get a text

“You seemed to really like Coco, and you offered to go on walks with us, so... do you want to right now?” 

yes, you do

“Great! You’re in 509, right? We’ll come get you.” 

he leads you out to this park near your building and the sun is only just starting to set and the scenery is so beautiful that it breaks your heart a little bit

youngjae just points out his favorite trail up ahead and coco is trotting at the edge of her leash, eager to go and explore 

and at first conversation is kind of spaced out and awkward, neither of you really knowing what to say to each other, but then it gets so... easy

you’re showing him the scar from that one nasty fall you took as a kid, explaining the rather stupid story behind it 

he tells you his own weird childhood stories about that one time he talked back to a teacher and like, instantly regretted it

and when he laughs, he laughs with his whole body. like a lot of work goes into those laughs that you can’t help but join in on

and sometimes if you tell a particularly good joke, he’ll just lose his mind and run around in circles for a bit 

it’s kind of adorable you can’t lie to yourself 

and once he accidentally dropped coco’s leash and she wasn’t even that far ahead of you guys but he FreAKEd oUT

“COCO!” he screams, hauling ass to chase her down

kicking up dust behind him like road runner in looney tunes

diving like a professional goalkeeper in a soccer match to catch her

and then he picks her up like he did when you first met him and he’s like, “I nearly had a heart attack don’t ever do that again-” 

you’re just laughing and playfully teasing him for the way he sprinted after his little fluff ball 

“Yah, Y/N. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t run after her.” 

you’re like... you have a point.... she’s precious and needs to be protected at all costs 

he’s like yes, I’m glad you understand 

and you tell him that you were a little unsure about moving at first because what if you ended up not liking the apartment or the neighbors???

and now, as you stand on a small bridge over a slow stream, looking over to your side to see youngjae looking ethereal in the setting sun, you’re thinking that moving was the best decision you’ve ever made 

you don’t tell him that, of course, instead saying, “...Anyway, thanks for being so nice to me!” 

and you’re walking so all you can’t see his face but you notice his ears go bright red 

“Um, actually...” he starts

“...Is something wrong? Did I say something weird?” 

“No! Nothing like that. I was just thinking that um, since me and Coco both think you’re cool, do you maybe want to...” and then you can definitely see a blush tinting his face 

“Youngjae, I’d love to go on a date with you,” you say, smiling 

and you can tell he’s kinda dying cause he is bright red and he’s smiling like a maniac and trying failing to hide it behind his hand

the rest of the walk is filled with shy smiles exchanged between the two of you

and many blushes 

and when you get back to your building, he once again walks you back to your door 

“So,” you say, “when do you want to have that date?” 

and he’s blushing all over again as he says, “Um, tomorrow?” 

and you just nod, feeling your smile take over your face

but it’s late af and you gotta sleep so you lean up to kiss his cheek and say, “Goodnight, Youngjae!” 

and he’s just standing in front of your door long after you’ve closed it, staring at the air in front of him, his hand on his cheek 

and then he just looks down at coco and says, “Holy shit...” 

needless to say, the date goes great 

[lilyvandersteen]

Puppy Eyes Chapter 8

This is again from Blaine's point of view. A bit of a filler chapter, this one. The next one will be juicier :-)

Warning for a brief mention of Finn dying.

This chapter is unbetaed, because once again, I procrastinated writing it and my lovely beta @hkvoyage hasn't read it yet, seeing as I've only just finished writing the last sentence... Updating weekly is proving quite a challenge!

Thank you so much to everyone who sends me feedback - you're wonderful and you spur me on to keep writing :-)

This story is also on AO3 and on Fanfiction.net.

The other parts can be found here: Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Chapter 8: Thanksgiving

Blaine had been so scared of Kurt finding out his secret, but now that it was out in the open, he felt lighter and freer than he had in years.

There was no judgment from Kurt’s end whatsoever, and he knew about magic, and even about people who could break a curse, apparently. Well, that was interesting, and worth looking into. But Blaine forgot about it quickly when Kurt told him how his mother had been cursed.

As Blaine listened, it struck him how small and vulnerable Kurt looked, every inch that little boy again who missed his mom. Blaine scooted a little closer and took Kurt’s hand in his to provide some comfort. The pain in Kurt’s eyes didn’t recede, but his spine straightened, and his words came out more readily, and a bit louder.

The story ended with Kurt’s mother dying, and Kurt crumpled again. There was more than pain in his eyes now, and when he refused to look Blaine straight in the eye, it was pretty clear what the matter was. Kurt felt guilty. Guilty because a homophobic woman had cursed his mom.

Blaine took a tissue from the box on the coffee table, and dried Kurt’s tears while he reasoned with him, trying to make him see that the fault wasn’t his. Kurt nodded, but kept sobbing soundlessly. It broke Blaine’s heart to see him that way. Kurt was usually such a positive presence in his life, vibrant and unique, such a sharp contrast to the broken boy now crying his heart out next to Blaine.

What could Blaine do to make Kurt feel better? In the end, he moved in for a hug. It did not have the comforting effect he’d intended, since he was still naked, and the reminder of that shocked Kurt, but it did make Kurt stop crying, so Blaine counted it as a win.

Kurt made Blaine go put on some clothes, and after that, they went outside to walk the dogs Blaine usually joined for play time at the park. It was weird, suddenly being a human alongside Kurt, and holding one of the dogs’ leashes instead of trotting next to them and challenging Snowball to a race. Blaine liked it, though. He liked the family feel of it, as if the dogs were theirs, and they went for an evening stroll together every day.

Blaine found himself wishing this could be his reality. If things had been different, if he’d never been cursed, this was what Blaine would have liked to have. A family. Just thinking about it hit Blaine with a fierce stab of longing. He wanted this. He wanted more than a lonely existence, always worrying about when the curse would strike next. He wanted Kurt next to him, capable and comforting and so compatible with Blaine, in spite of their age difference. What was it about Kurt that made Blaine feel so at home with him?

And then it came to Blaine. Kurt was a dog-sitter now. Would he consider becoming Blaine’s dog-sitter full-time? It would be pricey, but Blaine had more money than he could spend in a lifetime anyway. But perhaps Kurt was like Trent and would shy away from Blaine in his dog form now that he knew there was a human trapped inside. Would he?

He broached the subject with Kurt, and after some deliberation, Kurt agreed to move in with him and look after him any time he turned into a dog, on the condition that he’d still get to walk other dogs. Well, that was no problem.

Happy as a clam now, Blaine threw a tennis ball for the dogs to catch and did a silly dance waiting for them to return.

Kurt snorted. “Dork!”

Blaine beamed at him. “No take-backs! You promised to stay, so you’re stuck with me now.”

Kurt’s eyes softened. “I wasn’t going to take it back. I like you being dorky. You’re never afraid to be yourself.”

Blaine nodded, crouching down to take the tennis ball from Snowball, pet the dog and throw it again. “There’s nothing more bad-ass than being yourself.”

Kurt snorted again, cuddling Titus, who made no move to chase the tennis ball but stayed close to Kurt. “You sound like this guy I know from high school. Called himself Puck.”

“You should tell me about him sometime,” Blaine said, grinning ear to ear at the thought of having Kurt to talk to every morning and every evening. “And what was that about Rachel and a curse breaking her heart?”

As soon as he’d asked, he wished he could take it back and duct-tape his mouth shut for good measure, because his question sniffed out the amused glimmer in Kurt’s eyes, and left them haunted again.

Kurt absent-mindedly stroked Titus’s fur, looking blankly ahead. “Rachel… We were in high school together, I told you. And we crushed on the same guy, have I ever told you that?”

“No. You only told me about Karofsky.”

Kurt nodded and let out a sigh that seemed to come straight from his toes. “Well… Rachel and I… We weren’t friends back then. Not really. And we both crushed on Finn.”

Blaine frowned. “As in… your stepbrother? Who died?”

“Yeah,” Kurt confirmed, accepting a tennis ball from Snowball with a murmur of praise and offering him a dog treat. “Only he wasn’t my brother yet at that point. Anyway, Rachel and Finn ended up dating, but they had this on and off kind of relationship. And during one of the off moments, she met Jesse. And fell for him. But she still had feelings for Finn, too. And she made this music video, oh God, it was bad, where the both of them sang with her. Plus Puck, but that doesn’t really matter now. And Jesse felt hurt. Like… Like Rachel had cheated on him by singing with other guys. So he broke up with her, and he shouted, ‘We’re over. There. Now you can be with Finn, like you wanted. I hope you know that you and Finn will NEVER be happy together. NEVER!’ And then he stormed out. They were quite the dramatic pair, Rachel and Jesse. Never a dull moment with them.”

“Wow,” said Blaine. That was more drama than the Warblers had ever been through, to his knowledge.

“And then about a year ago, Finn died,” Kurt continued. “And we were all devastated. We still are. But I remember Rachel, during one of our crying sessions at the loft, sitting up straight all of a sudden and going, ‘It’s Jesse! It’s all his fault! He told me we’d never be happy together! He cursed Finn!’ And I gaped at her, ‘cause it hadn’t felt like magic at all, that day in the choir room. But Rachel kept insisting it had been a curse, and even went to a curse breaker to verify it, but there were no traces of magic on her. So she said the curse must only have hit Finn. I don’t know. She could be right.”

“Wow,” Blaine repeated. A wet nose nudged him, and he looked down to see that Snowball was offering the tennis ball to him this time around. He petted the dog and then threw the ball as far as he could.

“I know, right?” Kurt sighed. “Elliott thinks magic is heaps of fun, but in my experience, it’s only ever caused bad stuff to happen.”

“My… furry problem is the only brush I’ve had with magic.”

Kurt snorted. “Furry problem? A Harry Potter nerd, are we?”

“Hey, you recognised it, so who’s the nerd here?” Blaine countered.

Bickering companionably, they called the dogs to them and went home.

K&B

Living with Kurt was easy. They both had a full schedule, but it worked out so that on days that Blaine was home late, Kurt had the time to cook in the evening, and when Kurt was at R/GA until six and had to walk dogs straight after, Blaine made sure he had dinner ready by the time Kurt came home.

On weekends, they walked the dogs together, while sharing more about their lives and family and friends. There were never any awkward silences with Kurt. They never seemed to run out of topics to talk about, and every facet of Kurt that Blaine discovered made him like Kurt more.

Still, he couldn’t help but compare this situation to living with Trent, sometimes, and it always made him feel awful that Trent had left in high dudgeon and hadn’t contacted him since. Was he still mad at Blaine?

He brought it up with Kurt, who rolled his eyes and said, “If he won’t call you, why don’t you take the initiative? It’s a two-way street. If you miss him so much, call him, go on.”

But Blaine, however often he scrolled to Trent’s name in his list of phone contacts, and however many texts he composed, always chickened out on calling or texting his friend. What if Trent didn’t want anything more to do with him? He didn’t think he could bear that.

K&B

Kurt was very close to his dad, and would call him twice a week without fail. When Kurt had moved in with Blaine, Burt had insisted on “meeting” Blaine through FaceTime, and had questioned him thoroughly.

“You’re not… taking advantage of Kurt, are you?” Burt asked.

Blaine was quick to say no. “I would never!”

“Cause the kid has a crush on you the size of Texas,” Burt explained, while Kurt, behind Blaine, hissed out an affronted “Dad!!”

“What? It’s true, kiddo, and your guy should know it, if you’re living with him.”

Kurt sighed. “Blaine does know. I told him. And he doesn’t mind, do you, Blaine?”

Blaine smiled and confirmed that it made no difference to him whatsoever, but that didn’t make Burt lighten up in the slightest. If anything, his scowl deepened.

“So why do you wanna live with my kid anyway?” Burt wanted to know, and Blaine felt like he had no other option than to tell the truth, and explained haltingly about the curse.

“So basically he’s going to be looking after you as long as he’s at Parsons?” Burt asked.

Blaine hadn’t thought so far ahead, but nodded. “I’ll be paying him!”

“You’d better,” Burt growled. “And don’t you dare lead him on and break his heart.”

Kurt had interjected here with another “Dad!!” and had taken his laptop to his bedroom, telling Burt off for scaring Blaine.

After that first FaceTime call, Burt hadn’t asked to talk to Blaine again, until in early November, Kurt came into the living room and sat down next to Blaine on the sofa, shoving his laptop half onto Blaine’s lap so that he could see Burt and his wife Carole on the screen.

“So, uhm, Blaine,” Burt said, “I wanted to ask what your plans are for Thanksgiving. Are you coming to Ohio? Kurt mentioned you’re from these parts.”

Blaine was a bit taken aback. He hadn’t discussed the holidays yet with Pam. Usually, Pam split the holidays, spending Thanksgiving with Cooper and then Christmas with Blaine, or vice versa. Cooper didn’t know about the curse, and Blaine didn’t want him to find out ever, since Coop couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. So Blaine hadn’t seen Cooper in over a decade, and he only rarely went to Ohio, his mother usually choosing to come to NYC and shop.

“I don’t know yet, sir, I need to ask my mom.”

“Well, we’d love to have you here for Thanksgiving. And you can bring your mom, if you like. The more the merrier.”

Carole nodded enthusiastically. “I’m looking forward to meeting you for real. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Blaine promised to discuss it with his mother, and Kurt went to his bedroom again for the rest of his conversation with his parents.

When Kurt came back to the living room, he sank down on the sofa with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Blaine asked.

Kurt shrugged. “My dad wants me home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas, like the previous years. The thing is, I already splurged to fly to Ohio this summer, and I’m taking all these extra classes now, so I don’t have any money to spare for plane tickets. So either I’m going to have to take on extra dog walking assignments, and then I’ll fall behind with my schoolwork, or I’m going to have to drive to Ohio instead of flying, which is exhausting and leaves me less time with my family.”

“I’ll pay for the plane tickets,” Blaine said. “It’s the least I can do now that your dad has invited me over for the holidays. No, no, don’t protest. Let me do this for you, please, in return for you looking after me whenever I turn into a dog.”

“You’re paying me for that already!” Kurt protested.

“Well, consider it your holiday bonus, then,” Blaine suggested.

Kurt shook his head, but made no more objections, a small smile playing on his lips. “It will be nice to go home. You can stay in Finn’s room. And help me and Carole make Thanksgiving dinner.”

Blaine beamed at Kurt. “That sounds great.”

When Blaine called his mother about her holiday plans, she was very interested to hear Kurt’s family had invited him for Thanksgiving. “Are you dating this Kurt now? I thought he was a student of yours? That you payed to dog-sit?”

Blaine rolled his eyes at his mom and said there was nothing going on between him and Kurt. He had a feeling he’d be telling her that often.

Pam had no objection to Blaine coming to Ohio. “I’m in LA with Cooper for Thanksgiving, but I’ll be back by Saturday. If you stay the whole weekend, you and Kurt could come over for dinner on Sunday, before you fly back to New York.”

So that was Thanksgiving sorted out. Blaine booked their plane tickets and consulted Kurt about the perfect hostess gift for Carole. “Belgian chocolates, maybe? There’s this shop that sells not just Neuhaus, but also The Chocolate Line and even Sweertvaegher. Or maybe an assortment of delicacies? Or, you said Carole loves to cook, so maybe a kitchen accessory she doesn’t already have?”

Kurt just shrugged and told Blaine not to sweat it. “Carole’s not expecting anything. So whatever you bring will be a lovely surprise for her.”

Kurt was quite right about that. When they arrived at Kurt’s childhood home and Blaine offered his hostess gift to Carole, her eyes went wide, and she took out each item he’d bought her at the delicatessen with so much reverence and awe that he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Blaine, you shouldn’t have,” she whispered. “This is too much.”

“Seeing as I’ll be staying here for the entire weekend, I’d say it’s not enough,” Blaine countered. “Thank you so much for inviting me.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome, honey. Any friend of Kurt’s is always welcome here, and you’re more than just a friend, aren’t you?”

Blaine didn’t quite know how to answer that question, but Kurt swooped in to hug Carole and told her to stop fishing. “We’re not together, I told you that. Treat Blaine like he’s… Sam. Or Mike.”

“Haven’t you had crushes on the both of them, too?” Burt asked slyly, and Kurt groaned.

“My point is that they’re friends of mine,” Kurt explained. “Just friends, and never going to be more than friends, ‘cause they’re straight.”

“But Blaine is gay, isn’t he?” Burt pressed on.

Blaine nodded. “I’m gay.”

“See?” Burt crowed.

Kurt rolled his eyes and hissed at Blaine, “Not. Helping!”

To his dad, he said, “Yes, he’s gay. That doesn’t mean he’s into me. Gay men can be just friends.”

Blaine smiled at him.

Burt fixed the both of them with a piercing look. “Hmmpf. We’ll see.”

Kurt moaned about his dad embarrassing him a million more times that weekend, but Pam proved to be just as bad on Sunday, showing Kurt Blaine’s baby pictures and telling him all sorts of anecdotes about Blaine as a child.

“And I was pouring Mrs Islington more tea when Blaine came storming in, dressed only in a cape he’d made from his comforter, and screaming at the top of his lungs that our house was on fire and that we all had to get out. And all the ladies panicked and hurried out of the dining room before I could tell them that my son was only playing Superman. Well, you can imagine I wasn’t too pleased with our little streaker here. So he had to do without television and without dessert for two weeks.”

“Moooom…”

But one look at Kurt, giggling his head off, his grin wide enough to show all his teeth, shut Blaine up and made him smile right back at Kurt.

Pam brought them to the airport that afternoon, and they were having coffee at Starbucks waiting for the boarding to start when Blaine felt a tell-tale skin prickle. “Oh, no! It’s starting again! I need to get to the restroom!”

Minutes later, he heard a knock on the cubicle he was hiding in. “Blaine? I’m here.”

Blaine stopped blocking the door and trotted out. Kurt picked up Blaine’s clothes and shoes and put them in a canvas bag.

“Come here, sweetie, I need to put your collar on,” Kurt whispered, and quick as a flash, he fastened the collar around Blaine’s neck and then attached a leash to it, leading Blaine out of the restroom.

“We’re not going to be able to fly home,” Kurt continued, louder now. “I’m going to rent a car instead.”

Blaine stopped short. Driving to New York City? That would take eight hours at the very least! And Blaine couldn’t take over halfway!

Kurt crouched down and hugged Blaine. “Don’t panic, sweetheart. I’ve done this before. I don’t really like driving that far, but I can do it. No worries. I’m just glad you didn’t transform on the plane. That would have been hard to explain. Has that ever happened before?”

Blaine shook his head. He’d never even thought of that, travelling by plane without a care in the world. But in hindsight, yes, transforming mid-flight had always been a distinct possibility. And he wasn’t a tiny dog that could be hidden in Kurt’s backpack. He shuddered to think of how the flight attendants might react to a stowaway dog in the cabin, and felt Kurt’s embrace tighten in response.

“We really need to break this curse,” Kurt sighed. “I asked my dad to make appointments with the curse breakers he took my mom to, so that we can go see them during our Christmas break.”

Blaine looked up at Kurt in surprise. In all the years that Trent had looked after him, he’d only ever devised ways of dealing with the consequences of the curse. Trent seemed resigned to the curse. Kurt clearly wasn’t. He seemed determined to break it. Would he succeed? Was there hope for a normal life for Blaine?

Kurt rubbed Blaine behind the ears. “We’ll sort this out. I promise you. Come, let’s go rent a car and go home. We both have class tomorrow.”

Blaine felt his tail wag like mad as he followed Kurt, new hope blooming in his heart and new nerves fluttering in his belly. Would Alexei have left a loophole in the curse? Or would he crack down hard on Blaine and anyone helping him to break it?

[encrucijada]

okay since i had already responded to these i am just picking my two favourite from the ask game and answering those. because no one can stop me 😋

⚘️ pick a song that represents each wip, what would play over the trailer

choosing the wips that actually have theme songs in my head. not significant character songs but wip theme songs

disasters to sleep through: before we drift away by nothing but thieves ("i wonder where i float to when i return to dust? a sea to wash away the last of us")

the walk of eurydice: ghost by jacob lee ("ghost, i see you standing there. don't turn away, i want you to stay. ghost, what's your name. why so surprised? i'm interested")

three girls who cried wolf: wolves without teeth by of monsters and men ("i can see through you, we are the same. it's perfectly strange, you run in my veins. how can i keep you inside my lungs")

evergreen lung: meet me in the woods by lord huron ("i have seen what the darkness does, said goodbye to who i was. i ain't never been away so long, don't look back them days are gone")

haze dogs: arsonit's lullabye by hozier ("all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach. don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash")

coughing roses: bad decisions by bastille ("so live fast and die young and stay forever numb / and if we're going down in flames, take a bow for the bad decisions that we made")

fantasybane: the fantasy by 30 seconds to mars ("do you live? do you die? do you bleed? for the fantasy. automatic, i imagine, i believe")

🌺 rate your ocs by how attractive you personally find them and why or if you're not attracted to any, just rank them by how cool they look

i was wondering if i should spice it up and do this with the love interests instead. but i think i'm gonna do the main characters and then do another one for the love interests. since that one'll be shorter since at least half of my books don't have love interests. FINAL NOTE: this was so much harder than i thought because i think all my protagonists look amazing lmao

artemis: which i guess is a little unfair because she's a goddess but you try and beat having silver moon eyes, face freckled like the moon craters, and sharp teeth. that's right, you can't

thea: i feel teddy would actually show up at my house while i sleep if thea wasn't at least top 3. dark blonde hair, glasses, and honey-brown freckled. dresses like a light academia dream

soledad: i feel just mentioning she has red macaw wings is more than enough. such a colourful sense of fashion she's thriving

fae: heavily freckled redhead with a leather jacket and fishnet stockings under her ripped jeans. need i say more. no yeah i will: also, flower crown

maripaz: what can i say except she's so cute oh my god. freckled face i want to kiss her cheeks she wears heart-shaped apparel and has glitter makeup

marjorie: dresses like a fashion disaster but i still want her entire wardrobe. i want her earrings especially and i live vicariously through her with all those earrings

connor: she has the bathed in blood and dressed in white look going on so that's points in favour despite only being a skinny girl with unruly hair

rené: she has her hair short to about her shoulders with the tips dyed pink and i think that's such a look. also she adds little stars to her makeup and wears a jean jacket

ezra: i actually don't know the specifics of what ezra looks like but she has that whole "i am the human host of a sentient forest" look with branch antlers and flowers on her hair hair

vienna (& bella-rose, they're twins): short curly hair with hazel eyes and all tangled in plants while wearing a dress-shirt... a look

maree: definitely the best looking of the 3 girls. such vibrant colours and her lipstick game is on point!! wears butterfly pins

iris: heterochromia is the only thing of note about her appearance but i love that aspect way too much. also she has plants in her pockets which is a bonus

winnie: she rocks this soft girl/punk girl dichotomy really well. turtlenecks and dark jacket and overall with space buns. (put all wolf girls one after the other)

marilú: nothing remarkable but i really like the mole on the corner of her eye and that she has super long hair like me

🍀 which OCs would get along the best? but also! 🌵 which OCs would NOT get along?

both answered here <3

[the-jade-goblin]

Get Into My OC

I was tagged by @thereluctantinquisitor to do this lovely meme, and I spent ages wondering which OC I should choose for it (I HAVE TOO MANY AHHH)

Until I settled on my soft elf boy 

Assan

NAME: Assan Lavellan

AGE: 21 at the beginning of Inquisition

GENDER: Male

ORIENTATION: Homosexual 

PROFESSION: Hunter

BACKGROUND (TW warning; abuse, rape):  Assan grew up among the Dalish, born and raised on the plains of Neverra. Assan was born sickly as a child with chronic asthma, and spent much of his early childhood sheltered within aravels and being cared for by his mother - or "coddled" as his father put it. Though he grew out of the severity of his asthma as he got older, in colder climates Assan's asthma still affects him. Being sheltered so much gave little opportunity to make friends, though Assan held on to two lifelong friends, Dylah and Shou, who are very protective over him, being the youngest in their group. Assan's mother is the Keeper of Clan Lavellan, his father the Chief craftsman. Though Assan and he father famously didn't get along, he was very close with his mother. Assan’s father neglected Assan, hating that any son of his was born so weak. Assan could never do anything to appease him, everything he ever did was considered wrong by his father, and he doted on his daughters instead. 

Assan has two sisters; one elder by six years, one younger by twelve. His elder sister Raevan vanished on a hunting expedition, and didn't return for several months; only to come back to the clan as the walking dead. Assan was forced to kill Raevan, and eventually, confronted the Tevinter blood mages who had killed and resurrected her, with gruesome results. He was sixteen at the time. As a result, Assan is very closely protecting of his little sister Freeya. Assan still refuses to speak of what exactly he did to those mages, but he’s very ashamed of it. The hatred and anger that burned inside him scared him, and since then he has tried to keep anger at bay; he turns quite vicious when angered and uses meditation practises to lengthen his fuse. 

During a Tevinter raid on the clan, at eighteen Assan was kidnapped by slavers while protecting his sister. He was taken to Minrathous where he served as a slave under a Magister Edward Pavus, brother of Halward Pavus and uncle to Dorian. Assan was almost killed when he first came to Minrathous when Magister Edward was experimenting and needed body parts. He instructed an assistant to extract Assan’s eyes, but Assan struggled and ended up killing the assistant, though it left him with a nasty injury on his eye that got infected and nearly killed him with a fever. He survived, and his master had been impressed by his gusto, and wanted to see what exactly could break his spirit. His master was sadistic and cruel, and “favoured” his elven slaves more than others; Assan was routinely sexually assaulted by the magister and often forced to share his bed while chained up, he spent most of his life as a slave literally leashed like a dog to Edward Pavus. Assan was known as the “pretty elf” by the magister, making Assan badly triggered by the word ‘pretty’ afterwards.   He was captive in Tevinter for two years, before making his escape when his master travelled too near the Neverran border, and made his way back to his clan. He spoke of his experiences to no one but his two best friends, claiming to everyone else he had no memory of the past two years.

Physical

BODY TYPE: Ectomoprh, kind of. He’s extremely lean and long, he can’t eat much and can’t keep a lot down, but he does have taught muscle that makes him small but strong. 

EYES: Emerald green

HAIR: Brown

SKIN: Light tan

HEIGHT: 5'5′’

WEIGHT: 54 kg

SKILLS (S.P.E.C.I.A.L + M)

STRENGTH: 7/10; Assan is not a peak physical condition, never will be again, but his wiry frame does contain a lot of power when applied in the correct way. Being Dalish you kind of have to be strong, all that walking, climbing trees and rock climbing to make a good hunt. 

PERCEPTION: 8/10; Assan is quiet and observant, in his life one must make a quick deduction on the person you’re talking to to see whether or not they can be trusted, and so Assan has become very adept at seeking out people’s temperaments and personalities through quick analysis. However he’s a bit of a numbskull, and while he can usually sense people’s emotions he often misinterprets the reasons behind them and automatically think either the worst-case scenario or that he’s done something wrong. 

ENDURANCE:  10/10. Assan can endure almost anything. He has always pushed his body further than its limits in order to gain strength, when he was younger he’d purposefully hike in the snow or run in the rain to try and build up a tolerance and train his body to get over its asthma. After he returned from Tevinter endurance training was the only thing that kept his mind off his nightmares, he spent that year pushing himself to the point where now he can barely feel the cold or pain or exhaustion. 

CHARISMA:  6/10; Assan is quite humorous and has an easy smile that puts people at ease. He has been conditioned to be quite submissive in nature, so he caters to people’s wants and desires quite easily in conversation. The pain he’s been through as made him extraordinarily kind and he avoids upsetting people.

INTELLIGENCE: 5/10. Street-wise he’s very intelligent. He’s one of the best archers in Thedas, he can repair almost any kind of equipment with limited resources, he can cook fairly well, hunt with the best of them, his tracking and orienting skills are impressive and his knowledge of Dalish religion is extensive. Literary wise, he’s not so good. He can’t read or write, having never needed the skill, he doesn’t know much about history or the Chantry or really human culture in general, and while he’s adept at elvish, other languages are a struggle for him, even the common tongue is sometimes difficult for him.

AGILITY: 9/10; the fact that he’s still alive has hinged on his agility. He’s very agile, he’s fast and small so manoeuvring out of situations isn’t a problem, he’s a fast-thinker and can formulate escape plans fairly well. He’s a great climber, he can balance on any branch even when running and he can climb most surfaces without aid of technology. 

LUCK: 3/10; He would not describe himself as lucky. At all. The luckiest things that have perhaps happened to him is the fact he hasn’t been killed or committed suicide, and meeting Dorian. Also for such an agile elf in the woods or battle, he’s quite clumsy in cities or when flustered, so he’s pretty unlucky in that regard and often falls off shit and gets lost in towns and trips over his own feet when talking to Dorian. 

MAGIC: 0/10; Assan isn’t a mage, and magic of most kinds terrify him. He’s wary around mages, but doesn’t inherently dislike them. Most forms of magic confuse and scare him, even healing magic makes him uncomfortable. The feeling of magic reminds him of Tevinter and it churns his stomach to be around the electric static in the air when magic is cast.  

LIKES

COLORS: Forest colours; greens and browns and dark greys/blues.

SMELLS: Rain, earthy smells, firewood and fresh fruits

FOOD: Ginger roots, nuts of any kind, elfroot

FRUITS: Peaches, mangoes, pears, lychees

DRINKS: Herbal tea, tea made from the crystal grace flowers, hot honey water, and a Dalish concoction made out of several types of root plants to increase vitality.

ALCOHOLIC DRINKS: Assan gets terrible headaches when he drinks alcohol, but he has been known on occasion to drink mead

OTHER

SMOKE: He’s a non-smoker, his asthma doesn’t allow him to keep the habbit without, you know dying.

DRUGS: Assan has had a mild to medium form of diploar disorder since he was sixteen, but he learned to manage the symptoms through meditation taught by his mother. When the Chargers joined the Inquisition Assan sort of became dependant on this pain-numbing elixir Stitches makes since the first time he took it and everything just...stopped. He felt nothing. And it felt wonderful. It took the combined efforts of Dorian, Sera, Cole and Solas to help him stop taking it and find alternatives to help his condition. 

DRIVER’S LICENSE?: Even in a modern AU Assan would 1000% live in the woods somewhere, so no. modern technology would not agree with him.

[greylilacs]

the2wolves24 said: I have been a vet tech for 24 years. My previous cat was indoor only and at 9 years old, got out and never came back. Let me tell you the what ifs still torture me to this day. My cat now I got as a 2 week old bottle baby. At 12 weeks it was clear I was not going to be able to sleep him in. He played with the dogs regularly, I taught him to fetch paper balls and constructed my own cat condo out of an old armoire. Complete with carpeting, shelves to.climb, hammock and the2wolves24 said: Litter box protected fr9m the dogs behind the cabinets. He wanted out period. At 12 weeks he even launches himself over a full grown Doberman to get out the back door. Since then I put him on my late Pomeranian puppy harness to give him an idea of the area. He got a teaspoon of fancy feast every night so he would associate that with coming home. He has slept inside every night since I have him. He’s 8 years old now by the way. To train him in car safety I put I’m in a the2wolves24 said: Dog crate on my front lawn and for fibe.minutes had all my friends drive by, honking horn and driving up on the boulevard grass. Since then the second he sees a car, he jumps on the nearest lawn. I also neutered him at 4 months and he stays within a 2 house quadrant. He is vaccinated, eats hill’s metabolic food and is on revolution monthly. I took a class on inappropriate urination in cats at the NAVC. Outdoor cats are more psychologically healthy as their daily prey the2wolves24 said: Drives are met. They spend much of their time outside walking, keeping their weight in check. At a year old a kitten followed him home. I have never been able to get that cat to willingly come inside, Burnie is so regular for his meals, that if inclement weather is approaching I can catch him to bring him in. He is also neutered, vaccinated and on revolution. I think it’s unfair of you to.point out the negatives of outdoor cats without pointing out the positive. the2wolves24 said: By the way, giardia and coccidia are often self limiting when in adult animals with health immune systems.  ------------------ Okay  So! LEts go down the line of the points brought up here > You’re a vet tech for 24 years > You let a cat outside  > You scared the fuck out of it to teach it not to go near streets?  > Stays within a 2 house quadrant  > Outdoor cats are more psychologically healthy as their daily prey drives are met  > Giardia / Coccidia things  SO!  It’s made apparently clear that no matter the amount of experience one has, they only care about one things: Themselves and their pets. 

As you so bluntly said- you’re a vet tech for 24 years and yet it didn’t dawn on you once that while you work on cats and dogs all day, there’s vet techs across the world who are dealing with the damage caused by your insufferable mentality of ‘my cat wont stay inside’  because apparently Panic at the disco never got through to you and you never shut the god damned door. 

Now, additionally- a study was done on wildlife admitted into a clinic over 11 years and they found out this: 

The study examined nearly 21,000 patient records, including 11,144 small mammals and 9,777 small birds, admitted between 2000 and 2010. Of this total, 2,970 patients were admitted due to confirmed interaction with cats. 

And this:

   Of all small mammals admitted due to cat attacks, more than 70 percent died or had to be euthanized. For small birds, the mortality rate is a staggering 81 percent. So while I knew that some people could be selfish, here I was thinking that those in the vet world would be at least honorable enough to understand that they wouldn’t let their cat outside to be an addition to the devastation caused by outdoor cats.  Y’know, the ones that either are or aren’t recorded because why would you bring an already dead animal into a clinic or better yet admit that your precious cat killed and ate a state bird who knows. 

But for the ones that were recorded you’re looking at around 297 per year over the 10 years in JUST this study

Or the 24 per month

or the .81 admitted per day because fuck native wildlife when you can say that you’re proudly a vet tech so that somehow makes what your cat and promotion of other cats doing so immune from being dragged through the mud like the impacted bullshit it is. 

No. 

Vet tech or not, I don’t give an actual shit when you go “yah no I see that hundreds of cats are admitted per year, thousands of cats die per year by car crashes but let me go ahead and just say that letting your cat outdoors is fine because I don’t know how to fulfill my cats needs of the easiest thing TO fulfill on a cat even though I got him at 2 weeks old and in that time could have conditioned him to be an inside cat” 

Fuck off.

Also lets just touch on the fact that you put your cat in a crate and scared the shit out of it for quote “five minutes” because that’s how cat psychology works and your cat TOTALLY didn’t associate the crate with the horns honking and instead associated the road with it. 

Additionally, lets put a pin in the fact that your cat frequently crosses the road and becomes other peoples problems who may be allergic to cats or even hate cats and want nothing to do with a cat shitting in their yard but they’re too nice to say anything. 

because as long as you’re content with ignoring your cat all day amirite. 

Now, lets move on 

“outdoor cats are psychologically healthy because their prey drives are met” 

Because you totally couldn’t do that with a fucking rope toy or door teaser, could you?

Not to mention you can even give your cat whole prey raw/ franken diets to fulfill that needs but by golly that would be so much harder and you’d actually have to /do something/ to keep your cat entertained? 

Well as someone who wanted a cat but didn’t want the ability to let it outside by a road that just won’t work, would it? 

Now! Let’s move onto my favorite part of all this

Cocc. and Giardi. are self limiting /in the hosts/

But like most parasites- it’s not the initial hosts you have to worry about. It’s the hosts shitting and exposing the parasite while it’s active to other things. Giardia intestinalis itself can be found in 40 different species and And Cystoisospora can be transferred to mice and other cats in the neighborhood, potentially infecting dozens of animals during the time period OR EVEN HUMAN CHILDREN who- y’know, play in their yards. Their yards that shouldn’t have cat shit but :O imagine that, now they do. 

Not to mention - not even touched on by you- is the things that can kill your cat that dont live on your cat. And we’re not talking about cars.  Humans

Dogs

Hawks

Foxes

Poisons (either intentional or unintentional) 

Other cats

Groundhogs

Possums

Raccoon 

The list. Goes. on. And On. And On. 

But I'm speaking to someone who literally sees dead cats from cars on a monthly (if not weekly) basis.

According to this there’s at max, 27000 companion animal practices in the US  There is (according to this) 5.4 million cats killed by cars each year. And I can’t find a consistent statistic on the ones who live so lets just go with that.  

That means, if we did the math and this was anywhere near correct, each clinic would probably see around 200 cat vs. car fatalities every year!

So you’ve probably more than likely seen a cat or two hit by cars - hell, you admitted your own original cat passed away from it (Which I am sorry to hear about, truly :/ ) 

And yet you still think it’s a good idea

Just because “he really wants to go outside and gets bored if I dont let him”

Build a fucking catio. Put up a fence

Cat rollers

“but that costs money” PETS . COST. MONEY. 

I am not saying cats “Can never touch grass ever”

I’m saying- leashes exist. Fences exist. Fuck, there’s a thing on ebay that costs like 250 dollars and has a roof that would be perfect for a catio.

Lookit this fucker. It’s wicked. 

It has never, will never be just about YOUR cat.

It will always be about the animals that are affected by your shitty choices. 

Your cat throwing a pissy fit does not matter to me. 

The wildlife that is dying at an astronomical rate because YOU can’t be a responsible pet owner? THAT matters to me. Grow the fuck up and realize that you can have 50 years in vet experience but the day you willingly admit and promote to neglecting your pets safety that shit means nothing. 

Just yesterday there was a case of a vet being charged with 16 counts of animal cruelty. Does it somehow make it okay just because he’s a vet? 

No. it makes it worse. 

So stop patting yourself on the back, it’s apparent you’re just as shitty as the other outdoor cat owners. 

[imjusthereforsupernatural]

Faith - Part 3

Request: Hi I was wondering if maybe you could do a rewrite of the episode faith were instead of dean getting Tased the reader does? If not that’s totally fine also.

Pairings: Dean x sister!reader, Sam x sister!reader

Word Count: 1,820

Dean’s Age: 26

Sam’s Age: 22

Reader Age: ~16

(A/N): This is a rewrite of episode 12 of season 1, “Faith”.

Part 1

Part 2

“You really think it’s the Grim Reaper? Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?” Sam asked, glancing over his computer between you and Dean.

“No no no, not the reaper, a reaper. There’s reaper lore in pretty much every culture on Earth. They go by a hundred different names, it’s possible that there’s more than one of ‘em,” Dean responded, looking up from a stack of papers.

“But Y/N said she saw a dude in a suit,” Sam said, making you roll your eyes.

“What, you think he should’ve been working the whole black robe thing? Look, you said it yourself that the clock stopped, right?” you asked, receiving a nod from Sam. You grabbed the top paper from Dean’s pile and held it up. “Reapers stop time.”

“And, you can only see ‘em when they’re coming at you, which is why Y/N could see it and we couldn’t,” Dean continued, taking the paper back and putting it down rather rough.

“Maybe,” Sam stated skeptically, again making you roll your eyes.

“There’s nothing else it could be, Sam. The question is, how is Roy controlling the damn thing?” you trailed off, scanning through Dean’s papers another time.

“The cross,” Sam said, sitting up slightly. You looked at Dean, confused.

“What?”

“There was this cross. I noticed it in the church tent, I knew I had seen it before,” Sam said quickly while fumbling with a small box. He breathed out a chuckle and held up a card for you and Dean to look at. “Here.”

You snatched it out of his hand, staring at the picture of a skeleton in a robe, holding a staff with a familiar cross at the top.

“A tarot?” Dean asked, leaning over to look at it with you.

“It makes sense. I mean, tarot dates back to the early Christian era, right? When some priests were still using magic, and a few of them veered into the dark stuff – necromancy and how to push death away, how to cause it,” Sam explained. You handed the card to Dean and took a couple steps back.

“So Roy is using black magic to bind the reaper,” Dean stated, giving the card back to Sam.

“If he is, he’s riding the whirlwind. It’s like putting a dog leash on a great white,” Sam said, obviously at a loss for a solution. Dean sat back in his chair and you walked to the sink, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms.

“Okay, then we stop Roy,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“How?” Sam asked.

“You know how.”

“Wait, what the hell are you talking about? Y/N, we can’t kill Roy,” Sam said, shocked that his little sister would even consider that idea.

“Sam, the guy is playing God, deciding who lives and who dies. I don’t know about you but that sure as hell is a monster in my book,” you said, looking to Dean for support but receiving nothing.

“No, we’re not going to kill a human being, Y/N. We do that, we’re no better than he is,” Sam said, making you clench your teeth and unfold your arms. You didn’t want to give in but you knew he was right.

“Okay so we can’t kill Roy, we can’t kill death,” you said, looking between them, “either of you have any bright ideas?”

Dean shrugged, turning to Sam who sighed. “Okay, um… If Roy is using some kind of black spell on the reaper, we gotta figure out what it is and how to break it.”

Dean parked the impala in the gravel lot in front of the white tent.

“If Roy’s using a spell, there might be a spell book,” Sam reminded you as he stepped out of the car.

“See if you can find it,” you stated simply, shutting the door behind you and walking to Dean who looked at his watch.

“We need to hurry up, service starts in fifteen minutes. Y/N and I will try to stall Roy,” Dean said and you nodded, following closely behind him. A man stepped in front of the three of you and handed everyone a yellow piece of paper.

“Roy LeGrange is a fraud. He’s no healer,” he said as you took the paper.

“Amen, brother,” Dean nodded, taking one for himself.

“You keep up the good work,” Sam said, also taking a paper and walking in the opposite direction as the man thanked him.

As you walked up the side aisle, Dean’s phone rang. He quickly took it out of his pocket and answered it, “what do you got?”

You looked around to make sure nobody was listening or watching.

“The guy in the parking lot?” Dean asked, his voice hushed. You looked at him with wide eyes. He shut the phone and pinched his eyebrows together, obviously concerned.

“Well?” you asked. Dean just gestured for you to follow him further down the aisle.

“Layla. Layla Rourke, come up here child,” Roy said and you closed your eyes, extremely upset that you would have to stop her from being healed. The whole crowd clapped and cheered as Layla stood up in disbelief and hugged her mom. You took your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent any emotions from escaping and turned away as Layla began walking towards you and Dean, towards the stage and Roy.

Dean grabbed her arm before she passed by and whispered, “Layla, listen to me, you can’t go up there.”

“Why not? We’ve waited for months,” Layla whispered back, stunned that Dean would want to stop her.

“You can’t let Roy heal you,” you said, standing close to them both. Layla stared at you, shocked.

“I don’t understand, Roy healed you, didn’t he?” she said. “I mean, why wouldn’t I at least let him try?”

“Because if you do, something bad is gonna happen,” you stated, trying to put it in simple terms. “I can’t explain, I just need you to believe me.”

“Layla,” Sue Ann called, holding out her hand.

“Please,” you pleaded. Layla looked back at her mother, then at you and Dean again.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she shook her head and pulled her arm out of Dean’s grasp.

“Layla. Layla!” You called, but she continued to walk away. “Dammit!”

The crowd cheered as Sue Ann helped her up the stage steps. You walked away angrily, wanting to find the protester before it was too late, but Dean held out a hand to stop you.

“Pray with me, friends,” Roy began and slowly lifted his hands in the air. The crowd did the same. You looked around frantically for something to stop him.

“Fire! Hurry, the tent’s on fire! Everybody get out of here!” Dean shouted, covering his face so no one would know where it was coming from. You heard Layla’s mother beg the reverend to proceed, but everyone was already evacuating.

You pulled on Dean’s arm. “Let’s get out of here, before they get suspicious,” you whispered, but Dean stayed where he was and fished his phone out of his pocket, dialing Sam’s number.

“We did it, we stopped Roy,” Dean said into the phone. You sighed slightly, still glancing around nervously. Dean froze. “Well then who the hell is?”

You sucked in a breath as you searched Dean’s face for answers, knowing that it must not have worked. You caught him staring at the side of the stage and followed his line of sight.

“Sue Ann,” Dean said and shut the phone. You started to speed-walk towards her. You grabbed her by the shoulder, turning her around to face you. She gasped and tried to cover the necklace of the all too familiar cross around her neck.

“Help! Help me!” Sue Ann shouted. You swore under your breath and glanced at Dean as two cops grabbed you both and pulled you away.

They dragged you out of the tent and you yanked yourself away from them. “I just don’t understand. After everything we’ve done for you. After Roy healed you,” Sue Ann said. You wanted to strangle her. “We’re just very very disappointed, Y/N.”

You stared at her without a word.

“You can let them go, I’m not going to press charges. The Lord will deal with her as… He sees fit,” Sue Ann said in fake offense and walked away.

“We catch you round here again, we’ll put the fear of God in you, understand?” The cop holding your jacket said.

“Yes sir, fear of God. Got it,” you responded sarcastically and they shoved you both harshly. You bit your tongue, and Dean pulled on your sleeve, pointing at Sam across the lot. You followed him towards the car, but stopped when you overheard Roy talking to Layla’s mother.

“Private session tonight, no interruptions. I give you my word, I’ll heal your daughter.” Roy’s words made your breath hitch in your throat and you looked up at Dean. He nodded curtly and continued walking towards the car and Sam.

You arrived back at the motel and explained the situation to Sam. He sat on the edge of the bed with you as Dean looked out the window as a precaution.

“So Roy really believes,” Sam said.

“I don’t think he has any idea what his wife’s doin’,” Dean said as he turned back towards you both.

“Well, I found this,” Sam said, handing a small book to Dean, “hidden in their library. It’s ancient. Written by a priest who went dark side. There’s a binding spell in here for trapping a reaper.”

“Must be a hell of a spell,” you sighed, looking over Dean’s shoulder as he sat down to skim through it.

“Yeah. You gotta build a black altar with seriously dark stuff – bones, human blood,” Sam explained as Dean flipped through pages. “To cross a line like that, that preacher’s wife – black magic, murder…evil.”

“Desperate,” Dean said, stopping at a page. “Her husband was dying, she’d have done anything to save him. She was using the binding spell to keep the reaper away from Roy.”

“Cheating death. Literally,” you breathed out, taking the book from Dean.

“Yeah but Roy’s alive, so why is she still using the spell?” Dean questioned.

“Right. To force the reaper to kill people she thinks are immoral.” Sam responded. You shook your head.

Dean muttered, “May God save us from half the people who think they’re doing God’s work.”

“We gotta break that binding spell,” you said, exasperated. Dean pointed at a picture of the cross in the book and showed it to Sam.

“You know, Sue Ann had a Coptic cross like this. When she dropped it, the reaper backed off,” Dean stated.

“So you think we gotta find the cross or destroy the altar?” Sam asked and you stood up.

“Maybe both,” you answered, putting your jacket back on. “Whatever we do, we better do it soon, or he’s healing Layla tonight.”

Tag List:

@supernatural-squadd @jensen-jarpad @winchesters-favorite-girl @deathtonormalcy56 @27bmm (If you would like to be tagged in everything or just something, send me an ask!)

[12izzy3]

I was gonna just post the art, but I know at least a couple of my followers appreciate worldbuilding, so now that I’ve done the piece I’ll talk a bit about the character. He’s one of my “older” characters, in that most of the characters that I care about now are the ones existing in the world I started building in highschool, and he was part of the start of that.

Murder

Murder’s actual name is Shimizu Takara, and he is from my world’s geographical and culture equivalent of Japan. As a young child (like, very small toddler age), he was abandoned in the woods to die by his parents. Particularly dark, haunted woods, mind you. He wandered, alone an scared, and was eventually found by the soul eater known as Dog (who takes the form of a giant, multi-eyed copper plated dog). Dog stole part of his soul, before he was saved by the eyeless witch Chiyo. Chiyo brought Takara back to her hut, and to stop him from dying due to missing a large part of his soul, she sacrificed her three crow familiars, to essentially create filler using their souls. To protect him further, she cast a spell on his soul which would firmly attach his soul to his body, so it could never be stolen or broken again.

From then on, she raised him in the woods, and taught him some of the basics of magic, though not the form of magic that she gained most of her power from, as she believed that most who used it were monsters (more on this later). Using this knowledge, Takara was eventually able to conjure the spirits of the three familiars used to patch his soul, and could also grow crows wings from his back. Although Chiyo kept him on a relatively short leash, Takara would occasionally be antagonized at a distance by Dog, bitter about not consuming all of Takara’s soul. Takara was, reasonably, significantly more upset towards Dog for taking ANY part of his soul.

In his mid-teens, Takara left Chiyo, to learn how to fight, in hopes of eventually being able to kill Dog and reclaim his soul. A few years later, Takara returned to the woods, convinced that the combat training that he had, in combination with his magic, would be sufficient to kill Dog. Takara wandered the woods for days, until he eventually found Dog. Dog was more than happy to fight, slashing and chomping at Takara. Instead of trying to strike Dog down, Takara sprouted his wings and at the first opportunity flew into Dog’s mouth, where his insides were one massive black chasm. Takara flew deeper, until he reached the core of Dog’s essence, not a soul as much us the remnants of souls he had consumed. Realizing that what was his own soul no longer existed in full, Takara hoped that the fact that some part of soul was part of this essence would allow him to absorb it into himself due to Chiyo’s spell on his soul. Takara swallowed Dog’s essence.

Dog collapsed, his armor turning gray and shattering, and his vast insides collapsing into flesh, blood and bone. Takara cut his way out with his sword, his body now covered with the metal armor of the soul eater. He managed to suppress the magic that conjured the armor, similar to how he can conjure and hide his wings. With Dog killed, Takara decided to visit his foster parent, Chiyo. However, when Takara reaches the place where Chiyo’s hut once was, there’s nothing but torn and scorched earth. Even in these woods, he knew there was nothing that could do this.

Takara, assuming the worst, tried to find out what happened to Chiyo. She had been a hermit, so his only lead was to try to see if there was anything he could find out in the magic community. By researching what he knew about Chiyo’s powers, and the sorts of scars that grew over where her eyes had been, he was eventually able to discover that her powers were one facet of a school magic known as Anthropophagous Magus, or more colloquially, cannibal magic, a dark and forbidden art. Although somewhat horrified and in disbelief that his caregiver would practice this kind of magic, Takara edged his way into circles with cannibal mages, and was fairly quickly able to discover what had happened.

Cannibal magic is a group of magic that is fueled by the consumption of specific parts of animals with strong souls (most commonly human, due to moderate sized souls, and general availability). Cannibal mages exist in a loose hierarchy, supporting each other, and harvesting and distributing the, generally human, parts that different members needed, with a “cannibal king” at the top. Chiyo had been part of an influential family of cannibal mages that practiced the powers of vision, which, as an introductory step into the art, required one to consume their own eyes, to gain a higher form of sight, with the eyes of others increasing their strength and range of abilities. However, Chiyo had refused this path, due to the cruelty of it, and had gone to live in hiding. Takara knew that Chiyo ate the eyes of the animals they killed, which must have been her way of fueling her magic. However, this departure wasn’t seen very well by the community. Eventually, in the the time Takara had been gone and in training, Chiyo’s location had been discovered, and a group of angry and loyal cannibal mages found her and killed her.

Learning this, Murder made himself an enemy of anyone who is part of the  Anthropophagous Magus school, unless they can prove themselves otherwise, and tracks down and kills influential members of their hierarchy, going by the alias “Murder”. Which obviously relates to his wings, spirit familiars, and the fact that he’s kind of very much an edgelord.

That pretty much does it for major backstory, I think! There’s more, which I kind of consider part of the fluid/ongoing story stuff for him, which exists in my head as a lot of floating episodic events, whereas all this is much more anchored. In terms of some abilities, he gains some soul eater powers from Dog, besides just the armor: He can conjure black fire, he has mid-range super strength, and he can sap the vitality from his enemies, or even eat their souls if he’s really feeling it. He usually doesn’t do that. The combination of his soul eater abilities and Chiyo’s soul spell, Murder eventually finds out that he can attach significantly important items to his soul. For instance, he’s used this to be able to conjure his sword instead of actually physically having it. When he’s in his soul eater armor,  he pulls the sword right out of his mouth.

Other major events/facts not really anchored but significant:

-Because Murder isn’t a real soul eater the same way that Dog was, when he eats, they aren’t actually completely broken down and digested in the same way. In the virtual representation of Takara’s soul, there’s a large pit-like prison, where souls or parts of souls or personalities that he eats are stored. Parts of souls find complementary parts, and eventually merge themselves into new, conglomerate souls.

-Although he stole his power, Dog is trapped here, and eventually escapes, possesses a new body (animal, not human), and goes on his merry way. He is later arrested, but that’s a different story.

-Takara eventually falls in love, but the girl he likes is left for dead by cannibal witches. Instead of watching her die in his arms, Takara consumes her soul. Because she is significantly important to him, he is able to keep her with him in a way that’s different than the prison. She has a literal home in his soul, where he goes when he sleeps. She is OK with this for a while, though she probably won’t be forever.

-Eventually he joins a team of other young heroes to do some less revenge-based hero stuff. He is given the stipulation that he is not allowed to kill people while he is on the team, which he accepts.

And that does it I think! Thanks for reading if you got to the end of this, I really like talking about my characters.