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elizabethrobertajones · 6 years ago

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14x09 watching notes

jingle bells, bobo smells, It is no fun, for us to wait All christmas in hiatus

Berens... please...... I beg you........... don't kill the sweet precious moonchild that is Garth. Please. The joke is "how are you still alive!?" and it would be a disrespect to Bobby's memory, and he represents a stable post-hunting endgame that was a beacon in season 9. In this essay I will

They used Dean's dead-voice "we're the guys that scare them" speech about hunting monsters in 13x05 to open. I wonder if Yockey wrote that thinking it might be the logical open to 13x23 and instead they used "this is boring, got any music?" also from one of his episodes.

[i guess! meme]

The recap left us hanging about if Jack was alive or not for the Kaia recap which turns out to be rude even though I know that he's fine ("fine") now because I am so emotionally affected by this dumb lump of nougat that not seeing an instant "he's okay haha tricked you!" legit raised my stress levels a notch.

Maybe because it's 4am and I was demolishing a slab of toast before the December chill in my room got it first, but I don't think there was any particular art or storytelling to the recap worth mentioning or musing on, and this came across almost more like the recap AFTER the break because getting back to plot stuff like seeing Mikey things again... The 13x05 lines make me wary on Dean's emotional behalf but obviously these are for very different reasons so the only real thing that might come up is that Cas is hiding his deal from Dean and Dean sounded so dead in the feels because Cas was dead. Obviously the real stress right now is what's up with Dean re: obvious nerve-wracking things like the djinn bouncing off his head or his swooshy vision, things we've been collecting up to ask more pointed questions about when Michael's in the room.

Americans: "that's downtown Vancouver!/an actual American city!/the ACTUAL American city in the caption!" me: "hurrrr skyline"

How much budget for Christmas music

I hate this episode already

Okay the blood and screaming is improving things.

Listen, werewolves always have so much fun these days. We had the knock knock one in 13x09, the Kardashian ones in 13x23, and now we have wereSanta here, who just spotted the mistletoe. D'aaaw.

These halo-shaped lights in this apartment Michael picked sure are gonna come in handy if the director knows what they're doing.

GARF. Please say you're here undercover.

OH SHIT. Michael KNOWS. Being in Dean's head does that to you. All his peeps get embedded in your brain. Please tell me some 2 way vessel/angel nonsense happens and you can't bring yourself to harm him.

GARTH HAS A LITTLE GIRL NOOOOOOOOOOOO

She adores Mr Fizzles. Garth spends hours with them hanging out together.

I don't believe him though. I mean. He's just telling Michael what he wants to hear, right?

Having a little girl is such a way to die, though. I mean. Can we just... not do that?

Let Garth Go Home For Christmas

Those halos sure aren't landing over Michael's head no matter how many of them there are

Jack: eating gross cereal made of cookies at midnight in the dark

Me: I love and support you and have done the same

Cas: *SQUINT*

Dadstiel is the best

Sam being the "it will rot your teeth" dad is also the best. I love the Dad Heirarchy being established here. Sam is still Dad no.1 and the one who lays down the rules and gets disobeyed about midnight cereal, full on domestic dad-ing. Cas is the dad who hears you munching from across the entire Bunker and sighs and gets out of Dean's bed where they've been watching movies together (I extrapolate from missing data) and comes to investigate but ends up in the Secret Midnight Cookie Cereal Pact instead.

If Garth dies he may bequeath Mr Fizzles to Sam to help parent Jack, who is now keeping secrets about midnight cereal consumption and needs an expert lie-detector to help him parent.

Okay, so, in season 9 after Dean took the Mark of Cain he was up all night eating cornflakes and not sleeping. The corn was symbolic to Cain. Jack goes through all he did and has cookie cereal which is just his sweet tooth. But he had foreign grace implanted in him, and also is tapping a lil bit of his soul to be alive, meaning he's in a weird power situation and we don't know what's up with him at all. TFW are very much like "upright and not coughing blood is good enough for us", especially when with magic involved it's not like they might have an actual science explanation ever come their way.

Jack sitting in the dark is obviously symbolic of hiding things, his cookie cereal is disapproved of and a guilty secret from Sam in the first place, he's consuming something - willingly - that's bad for him and will rot him right after the sweet sweet probably not Gabriel grace he ingested 2 episodes ago, and added all up makes a secret - and he and Cas of course share Cas's deal secret so it's not like Cas can go stomping around complaining to the other dads what he found Jack doing without Jack being like yeah well guess what CAS did.

It's sure a fun way to parallel the beginning of Dean's dark dark arc and Jack's sugary sweet dark arc.

Dean: kid if you are going to sit in the kitchen at weird hours and eat cereal, at least self-flagellate a little *slams the box of cornflakes down in front of him.*

Jack also is wearing a lot of red lately.

Though his new jacket is santa-coloured not like... Mark of Cain doom blood death coloured like demon!Dean's infamous red shirt.

He's currently wearing Cas-coloured shoes and sitting in Dean's spot from 9x13 aka the iconic cornflakes scene in question.

"If you can't sleep, that's understandable, given recent events." "You mean dying and coming back to life."

Cas has been around the humans too long. He talks in euphemisms and gets called out by his too-literal son.

The tables turn.

Oh Jack... so full of worries about Heaven and if his mom is safe, and making Cas confront that nothing is perfect, even Heaven, and have to say it out loud because he can't lie to Jack and sugarcoat this.

Reminds me of 13x06 where he had to tell Jack that yeah sorry not all angels are perfect either. Sweet lil foetus!Jack sure picked the correct angel to be his guardian.

Naomi is "complicated"

Cas. Hon. *hands him a blanket and a bowl of cereal*

OH MY GOD Jack calling him out on why can't Sam and Dean know about the deal.

Having Jack around is so much a breath of fresh air that Cas is starting to regret ever kidnapping him in 12x19.

"They CAN I just don't WANT them to know" CAS. You've been forced to Verbalise A Thing Using The Correct Language. I am giving you an entire gold star. TWO GOLD STARS. I'm drawing a smilie face on them.

Jack is upset that Cas made the deal for him: "they don't need that burden. you don't need that burden" "of course I do. You did that, for ME" - the ole season 2 Dean thing, where it took until 2x08 to know for sure what John did and it basically killed Dean 3 times over and he was a Mess. Not knowing but not having all the answers and being worried/suspicious about what's up with the neat circumstances of being alive again is hooorrible. And this is calling out the whole Winchester cycle of sacrifice (conveniently now with us knowing that John will be dropping by for an episode to really hammer the point home) by addressing how Jack now has to carry the burden of knowing that Cas did that for him.

Cas is like, "Yeah don't worry I haven't been happy in all of Creation." Jack looks earnestly at him. "I'm sorry."

Cas diverts to eating the gross cereal, which he apparently also secretly indulges in, or else, as Mittens pointed out to me, Dean does too and either way Cas is being gross and adorable and hanging out with his kid and this is horrible I hate it oh god it's more sickly sweet than the cereal they're eating.

Garth hiding in the kitchen to panic and phone mom to get him from the party.

"THIS ISN'T YOUR MOM, GARTH, THIS IS AN ARCHANGEL"

And he's just learned to say "balls" appropriately too.

Sam immediately gets The Guilts because he's being leaderly and losing Garth would be his first major blow as a leader oh god oh god no oh Sammy oh GARTH I can't handle this.

Berens sure is invested in the leader!Sam stuff and telling this story long before anyone else was and had his minion Glynn tease us with Maggie earlier in the season D:

I'm calling mom to get me from the party

"It's Ketch" Sam raises his eyebrows like "I forgot he was in this season"

Does that mean Ketch skyped Cas first

that's hilarious all by itself

He has tea because of course he does

Oh my god he's skyping with Jack. Are they buds? HAS HE ADOPTED JACK?

Honestly of all the characters in the entire show he's probably resisted longest so far when it comes to adopting Jack if they ever met even briefly in Apocalypse World.

This is how you can tell he's the worst :P Rowena "I will never love again" MacLeod took all of 20 seconds to adopt Jack.

He's been in England for like a week and his accent is 100x more hammy. "ExPRopriATE"

He's rolling his Rs. I mean. Is that even in our accent? Not in mine.

Jack watching attentively while he tells his story with no judgement forthcoming, just pure interest in what Ketch says... good thing Ketch is too self-centred on his tale of derring-do or he might find Jack's sweet interest flattering and begin wondering if he has it in himself to be fatherly.

I'm suddenly legitimately interested in the unstoppable force of Jack's adoptability vs the immovable object of Ketch's ego.

He posted it. Around Christmas. Look I'm friends with a postie and she's hucking around a bag as big as herself.

Maybe he put a ribbon on it.

From BUDAPEST. Paying extra really is gonna speed THAT up

"Where is our weapon?" "It's been sitting in Guam for a week. I don't understand. Why is it in Guam?"

TFW all react with snark, side-eyes or despair at Ketch, and 2.0 doesn't even get a reaction because I don't think Jack understands how dumbass Ketch is because he's too smol to have fought the mail :P

"We appreciate the effort" "DO WE?"

Cas is staring into the void, meanwhile. Internally, "Well at least I can be sure I'm not going to worry about allowing myself to be happy any time THIS month"

Oh, sweet! The laptop is set up right next to Britain on the map table :')

Hey if they have to brave the post office to get the egg, they can find out Harper is still stalking Jack :D

Cas can't even work out which direction to start rolling his eyes, gives up and walks off. Dean gestures the screen, look what you made him do! You asshole!

"Only thing that can take him down now is the full Ichabod" "?" *gestures decapitation* "oh."

Poor Garth. Werewolves really are the worst. I can see why you were so upset about being turned.

Remember when Sam described him as an "ichabod crane alike" or something, I think in 9x12 when asking at the hospital about him? Maybe? I swear to god that might be a less subtle hint Garth is going to die than Charlie's "merry christmas"

Garth honey nooo

I'm pretty sure we saw Michael mind-controlling the werewolf in the cold open which means we're in for SOME sort of drama next

Oh good Cas is back, I guess he went to scream outside.

"Oh it would have made it if it wasn't closed for the holidays" Sam is being so withering I hope Ketch can feel it from Budapest.

Garth you are going to get in so much trouble and I'm so scared for you and your family at Christmas

At least in this scene Dean n Cas are playing footsie under the table if nothing else.

With Michael holed up in a towerblock for Christmas I am so worried that I should have watched Die Hard before getting here.

D'aw Dean teams himself up with Cas without even hesitating.

Holy shit they used a season 1 clip of the Impala driving past a field of cows.

"Hi we shot this for 1x06 it's practically an easter egg now"

God, it's the promo scene and we're 16 minutes in.

Not over Cas being like "you're happy" because he can't be happy but he's seeing Dean being, you know, cheerful. It's worrying because it's so close to endgame... if they kill Michael, Dean can be happy. And if Dean can be happy...

bye bye Cas

It's so easy with Dean looking away for Cas's silence to be "lol never" instead of "I ought to tell you the string that is attached"

*quietly climbs into the garbage pile as I think about how neither can be happy while the other is as a literal plot mechanism*

Them leaving the door open seems so significant I thought we were going to see Bad!Kaia comically hiding behind it

Awwwwww Jack wants to break into his first building with lock picks!!

I can't believe they're doing this in broad daylight.

I can't believe there was a Gish item to go to a post office after hours dressed as Santa's elves and that's what Jack is doing with that coat

"Who taught you to pick a lock?" "I did. And the internet"

Sam's "that's my boy" face.

"I wanted to stay useful"

that was your cue to tell Jack he's useful regardless

On the other hand he got the door opened and smiled up at Sam so I guess he gets the validation that way instead.

"HAPPY Holidays" Jack is SO PLEASED the box is saying something nice.

BOOM you have witnessed, once again, Sam being knocked out.

Wow, no. His skull is getting thicker, he manages to cling on long enough to watch his boy being abducted.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, SAM.

Awww Michael came to oversee it. HAPPY HOLIDAYS, Michael!

Sam is way too concussed to deal with this. Or drive.

Michael has a really similar coat to what he had in the AU but for a fancy rich lady instead of a badass hot cowboy which really begs the question of why he dressed SO SO OTT for Dean, even given his fashionista tastes for the other 2 vessels we've seen.

I am sad we don't have the other Michael vessel just because he's off making out with Constantine on Legends of Tomorrow (meta textuality of THAT to be unpacked by fandom at length :P), but she's an absolutely uncanny female double for him with the coat and the ominous camera angles and her general scary vibe.

"You're going to kill me anyway" *MOOSE CHARGE*

I stan one concussed boy

Blorp

No fancy weapons for you guys, use your heads.

Not Sam's head, he's just taken his 3rd hit in a minute.

Garth gets caught snitching though I suspect Michael knew he was listening in and sent Dean to get attacked by Bad!Kaia anyways.

There's chess being played here.

Er, and you're the pawns.

I think Dean is the other player and everyone ELSE is a pawn in Michael's reckoning.

"WHY ARE YOU HERE? WHAT DO YOU WANT?" Kaia, they just shouted like 20 minutes of the plot so far at each other, you know as much as we do at this point.

I love Kaia's fighting stance but oh my GOD Dean walking up to the spear and having it put against his heart. He knows it's a power move but it's also a gentle one, and he's waved enough guns in her face and our Kaia's face... This is one of those moves you use both on frightened animals and also to show you are a good unarmed nice guy and it's an attempt to re-negotiate after all he's done to Kaias over time >.>

"if you're not going to give it to me, kill me" Dean says, at the end of his big emotional appeal to Family And Saving People as his divine guiding forces in the universe by which he sets his moral compass and acts as the best version of himself in the defence of.

Cas behind him like "I hope this works because I love this dumbass and if you ACTUALLY kill him I'm contractually obligated to murder you so like, pls don't escalate this"

"How do I know if you're telling the truth" well he's not so jot that down.

Cas like "can you please stop talking, Dean, I am not agreeing with any of your policies here" because not only did he drag Jack into it, he made a promise that Jack's completely unable to uphold since he, you know, doesn't have the power to get Kaia home any more.

Poor Bad!Kaia though. Spent her life running from monsters too. She and our Kaia have the same trama, but she's so hardened by it :(

"If you don't bring this back to me I will find you and kill you"

Yikes, magic weapons are having a bad run in these parts, I think Dean's pretty much a gonner :P

I love that the Wayward Sisters music plays around Kaia but it makes me so so so so sad

"So, what, is he playing us?" he's playing YOU Dean. Your move!

"Don't you go in there alone." "I know, drive fast"

Aka concussed bab is gonna go in there alone if you don't hurry.

I have literally no comprehension about the driving times involved in this episode because I don't know US geography like that, but it's Berens not Dabb but he's mentioned specific locations so he better have looked these all up on google maps because this is one heck of a fact checkable episode with 4 distinct known and named locations and you all driving to and fro.

I love Michael's new apartment. It has a dark Heaven aesthetic vibe which is perf.

Jack's here and he's immediately deposited under the halo lights.

I can not WAIT for a Jack vs Michael scene.

*chin hands*

"Why didn't you kill me?" *eyebrow raise*

Poor nougat is being made to feel useless again :( This is Michael grinding his heel into Jack while he has him on the floor, kneeling in supplication under those halo lights.

Michael is into villain monologuing. A terrible, terrible habit.

"Death from above," Michael says, the first time he's had halos over his head.

His concept of soul ownership intrigues me because he would get all the humans who died in an attack on this city in his original world. In this he's turning them into monsters but with his grace, so they belong to him. That means that somehow or other he's probably overriding not just their nature to be controllable by him, which overrides in turn Eve's control over all monsters. She totes isn't dead BTW she's just in Purgatory. I'm like 100% sure of it :P Anyway I do wonder if Michael's control over the monsters extends so far as accidentally granting them passage to Heaven by claiming them and overriding Eve's control. Who knows. The thought wandered by and really tickled me.

Because it's a long game with the real value in people for beings of this level just being in their value as collectibles after death, and season 5 was all about our Michael getting all the souls by killing all the humans and storing them away in Heaven and that was his Paradise he was fighting for. And if he's converting entire cities to monsterhood in order to gain control over the territory in a quiet no mess way, then his control and command of them is passed on through the bite thanks to whatever he did to them. At the very least he's managed to make himself into their new Alpha.

I mean unless this is a phase one and he's sacrificing getting the souls of these lot in exchange for a lot more souls down the line.

LOL Michael pulls "I'm your only kin" and Jack's like, uh, REAL Michael is in the cage, POSER.

I love how Jack's got the such simplistic child language of "I hate you" which comes out so honestly and fiercely. Jack's 1 layer personality is reaaally deep even if it is mostly 1 layer. A very very thick slab of nougat. Full of goodness. It's EXCELLENT character writing to balance a character like this. He has a good understanding of the world by now, evidenced by very clearly being able to distinguish AU!Michael from his living kin of our Michael in the cage, and yet at the same time his emotional range is still 100% whatever he feels about a thing and so for Michael it's hate. Because when kids get upset they can yell "I hate you I hate you!" in a tantrum, and Jack's personality is that but moderated and adult and reasonable, and that... What a good approach to writing a character. Om nom nom.

This vessel is definitely way more expressive than the previous two Michaels, which is something I've noticed in a looot of the vessel gender swaps, which really makes me go sociological on why gesturing and fiddling and so on is so much a part of presence for a female character on screen, while male characters are allowed to stand still and just kind of radiate presence. I mean, she HAS presence, but she's been moving her hands a lot and it's the main detail which makes her not match up as neatly. Jensen threw his whole personality into not moving Michael's arms, to follow on from Christian's portrayal.

I think Raphael's second vessel was menacingly still. That actress did a great job. That slow head turn after they hurl an angel blade at her in 6x22... Nice.

Lisa Berry strikes a nice balance at huge presence and only necessary gestures, and Julian Richings was always fiddling with junk food as Death despite his cosmic presence.

Meg was all in the voice and eyebrows, both actresses.

Why am I musing on this? Because it's 7am and I'm having a wave of immense sleepiness and I think I need tea to keep on watching but it's cold so I'd rather stay bundled in blankets >.>

... I have now turned on the heating and got tea and done some stretches to try and ward off the cold-blooded lizard stupor I was sliding into. Brrr. We get Christmas break on episodes because it's so hard to watch in the cold.

"Our relation is more a matter of scale, power." Ooohohohooo but you just said you weren't killing Jack because he was powerless.

I mean I'm crowing at Michael for maybe revealing a flaw in his monologue to me but at the same time that's terrifying for what he plans for Jack because that presumably involves powering back up but under HIS control. Nephew theft.

I say smugly having posted Jack being kidnapped by Michael in Andrea's Diner for his power/money last week so that I can just ride this one out with a "in before this plotline" raised eyebrow.

I mean I was using a hybrid season 8/14 set up with Naomi still being Michael's flunky but the important thing is that he was trapped in an office in a towerblock which may or may not now be exactly this one since I have eyes on it and Michael was gonna do whatever it took to get Jack's share of the company until Cas marched in and saved the boy.

Yeah my diner AU has corporate drama, deal with it.

NOW we're getting to the epic speeches. The time that makes mountains. Epic. And Michael is like hey you and me are the only ones left... And as your power returns and grows, we'll only become more alike. Cut to Jack being HORRIFIED by the concept of becoming anything like his AUncle and losing his human compassion and turning into this evil being that cheerfully talks about how not only to level cities but to improve on the concept.

Finally, we hit the epic tragedy level of Jack's story he's been hiding from in other genres from disney to rom coms to cute twee Christmas movies and even a detour into 1800s consumptive child drama to avoid it. But Hamlet's procrastination has to be challenged occasionally, and so they're face to face and Michael is taunting Jack with how he might be cute as a nougaty 2 year old but oh dear the terrible 2s are nothing to the terrible 2 billionties.

I think this room even has Heaven's furniture, as a riff on it. What's one world to another? One Heaven from another, as Michael says. Find a head office, treat it like a place of power and intimidation and it becomes one.

All Jack says is "Sam, Dean and Castiel. They'll come for me." Because he doesn't know much but in his 2 years he HAS learned who fights for him and considers him family, and who he will really set his morality by.

Of course if Cas ever allows himself to be happy, then ALL of Jack's family has an expiration date and no one can follow him through those eons to stop him straying.

Also: now eternity has a sense of horror to it. The reminder that immortality is awful and this is what it does to ancient eldritch beings. And as a result, that finite humanity may be better when it doesn't come at the cost of erosion of self.

To thine own self be true, to quote a terribly mis-used part of Hamlet and yeah yeah I studied it I know Polonius said that and it's meant to be a ridiculed line. But it's still emotionally relevant >.>

Jack's fierce sense of self and family is his only weapon here. Michael can't cast doubt on that. Maybe fear for the future, but in the immediate presence, Jack has a ROCK.

That red coat also makes him very distinctively the only real colour in the room.

Michael is wearing dark blue for the red vs blue coding, but it's dark enough to not stand out in the decor.

TFW are all wearing brown and tan.

I'm actually quite fond of this stupid jock werewolf.

Awkward silences with jingle bells in the background... why are they making werewolves inherently comical in Dabb era, I don't know. But I LOVE it.

RIP the sexy werewolf.

Dumb jock werewolf has already run off, which MAY be a reminder to panic about all the monsters in position, or he might get stopped on the way by TFW in a strategic position...

RIP other sexy werewolf.

Both, sadly, as hot as they were, die with amusing riffs of jingle bells to accompany their decapitations. No dignity in death for these fuckers.

Sam may or may not be doing a Red Meat by taking them on alone but he sure is in a better position with only a mild concussion leftover from the earlier attack rather than, you know, a barely-treated gut shot.

Man I hope Cas healed up the residual damage of that before the end of season 11.

Sam is indeed alone as he promised not to be while 100% intending to rush right in, which means that dumb jock werewolf did indeed run off into the city, which means that with 10 minutes left a whoops we let Kansas City turn into monsters cliffhanger might be a lark.

Merry Christmas everyone but Kansas City.

I mean Sam doesn't need to rush on the Jack rescue, Michael literally has eons of AUncle-nephew bonding planned.

The fact Alex has visible chicken pox scars on his forehead amuses me so much. While Jack fast-track grew in 12x23 he randomly inflicted the pox on himself as part of the childhood experience. Like, oh, I better get all my immunity from mom so when my 3 dads collectively fail to get me vaccinated at least I've got that. *boop* chicken pox scars appear.

S'gonna be Garth on the other side of that door

OH NO IT IS

Oh no Sam, it's a trap, he's gonna eat you. Oh no oh no you can't cut Garth's head off. He's a Beloved Sweetie Pie.

If this ends with watching Mr Fizzles get a hunter funeral I am sending Bobo a mountain of coal for Christmas.

Love that universal trope of the werewolf ducking away for an embarrassing uncontrolled transformation that looks somewhere between puking and period cramps. Moonsickness.

Michael is the moon controlling it in this case.

Cosmic bodies.

Don't touch him, Jack!!

Transformations with glowy eyes suck :<

This is just CRUEL to make Garth be like "I'm sorryyyyy" as he charges at Sam.

LOL THIS IS A CRYPT SCENE. He's in Garth's head!

"You don't have to do this!" "You can fight this, Garth!"

Me, staring at my mess of red string connecting crypt scenes: How did I get to Garth wolfing out while shouting apologies at Sam and Sam begging him to stop when this all started with Dean n Cas fighting over a lump of rock 6 seasons ago

Oh thank god they ended it with Sam vulcan neck pinching Garth to sleep after Jack took a rolling tackle at him and Garth ends up still controlled and shoved in the back of the car for later problems.

We'll file this under the failures section between bros and move on though I won't deny Berens had me in a cold sweat that I was going to have to throw years of work out because Sam would grab Mr Fizzles out of Garth's pocket and soothe him back to himself :P

Mr Fizzles x Garth as the Destiel parallel of the year

"Thanks for waiting for us," Dean says, angrily gesturing the alive and rescued Jack while uselessly holding the spear.

It's okay baby there's 7 minutes left and Cas still doesn't have fake blood all over him.

I think Mikey might come back around to gloat. He strikes me as the supervillain type to do that.

They figure out the last few chess moves that Michael made while sitting on the trunk that Garth is locked in. Rough.

In the background, Cas strides over to the brooding Jack.

Boop.

"I wouldn't bet against us."

In Which Dean Nearly Decapitates His Brother

Rousing family speech about no odds or element of surprise or fear from Michael, and they go dramatically walking off towards the elevator with blaring Christmas music.

I hate this

Everyone has a weapon except Jack, who just has a series of incomprehensible troubled looks every time anything happens.

The Boy Is Concerned. But is it about what's going on around him, or inner turmoil disrupting his nougaty centre?

He looks placid again during the dramatic walk, while everyone else has their hero faces, he's surrounded by his dads so he can just be like :3 and enjoy the adventure.

Michael is bored and pacing because they took too long having broments downstairs and walking slowly towards the elevator and he wants to do this great dramatic turn when they arrive but the elevator is craaaaaaawling up the building.

Fine, what if I'm not by the window but sitting down with my back to them.

Is Michael NERVOUS?

Big talk about being a zillion years old and then getting impatient.

What did Michael just see? Because he lit up his eyes and got a lot more confident...

"There... he... is" he smirks.

Me when Cas

Cas doesn't usually nearly get a killing blow on me, though. Nice move, bud.

HEY, RUDE. DOn'T HURT HIM

I know he just tried to stab you but I'm allowed to yell that. Also stabbing archangels doesn't tend to work on them but whatever :P

Come on Dean, GET HIM. He hurt the bae! And Sam and Jack now! But nowhere near as dramatically!

Ironically if Michael had just had any patience he wouldn't have fallen for being baited into coming to see Cas snooping around his front desk.

OH NOICE THIS IS THE SAME FIGHT WITH MICHAEL AND DARK KAIA BUT DEAN AND MICHAEL

Ow, Dean not doing so well after all.

Is that Sam or Jack inching a hand towards the spear. If Sam stabs Michael then it's a thanks in return for stabbing Lucifer. If Jack does... Badass, kid needs a big kill.

On the other hand, we're so near cliffhanger time territory that.. well.

Nope, Sam just did the slide a weapon back to Dean thing and Dean got in a hit on Michael in their duel.

Same arm he got stabbed on.

"trust me, that's gonna leave a scar"

Jack I hope you are paying attention to Dad no.3's use of one-liners because he is a master.

When he isn't, like, "you're the shortbus, shortbus."

UHOH Michael is standing with aaaaaall the haloes reflected behind him in the window and Dean is having Suspicious Killing Hesitation

aaaand there's the whooshy vision wow what a surprise

I KNEW IT WAS COMING AS SOON AS MICHAEL'S SHOULDERS WENT ALL CONFIDENT AND HE STARTED STARING AND I'M STILL UPSET.

I mean I knew it was coming as soon as Dean stumbled in like ??? I'm not Michael???

But in the short term, argh.

WHAT IS THIS BAR

It has a moose head, Jo's shooting game from the Roadhouse, and the old jukebox from 4x01's diner where Sam and Ruby hung out.

Aside from anything else this is a horrible ploy by Michael to get the spear.

WHEN DID MICHAEL BARTEND.

I am so intrigued.

But yeah, checkmate, Dean Winchester. Snapped your magic spear and melted to magic egg. What next?

Oh good and now he has the halos behind his head :< :< :< :<

Wanek I am so angry. You get coal too.

LOL Michael giving them a lesson on maaaaaaaybe asking important questions about things instead of just leaving them as soon as a character appears to be functioning on the surface, I type with this paused with Jack in the corner of my screen as a fortuitous example

Michael gloating about breaking Dean is the worst Christmas cliffhanger. I hate you Bobo.

You aren't seriously going to end the season on a snap and make us make Michael is Thanos jokes all hiatus? I mean he already fucked up one planet, decimating it in the name of a better world. Please. Don't do this, Bobo.

He did it.

Reminds me of the end of 3x10 as well, with demon!Dean lurking under Dean, waiting until before the credits to snap his fingers from within Dean's subconscious to remind us he was lurking and waiting.

Aw man this sucks.

Now Jack has to murder Dean after all.

#14x09 #season 14 spoilers #berens fanclub #my stuff

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agustdef · 5 years ago

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Here & Now - Chapter 9

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Fluff; Chill romance

Word Count: 2,436

Warning: None.

Banner Marker: @dee-ehn

I’d washed my hair a day earlier than I planned to and I had so many regrets. I was rocking a wash n’ go and the hair in front of my face hadn’t been trimmed enough when I got it done; not having cut it in its natural state was a mistake. So when my curls blocked my eye one too many times I ended up groaning and forcing all of it into a ponytail holder.

“I swear I’m just going to shave it all off,” I muttered to myself.

A scoff drew my attention to Namjoon, who was sitting beside Yoongi at his computer. “You’ve been threatening that for two years. Not happening.”

Glaring at him I faked like I was going to throw a pillow at him, which caused him to dodge and hit his leg on the table - hard.

I laughed so hard that it became hard to breathe, his groan of pain and curses making it worse.

“That’s what you get for not letting me lie to myself in peace,” I choked out between wheezing.

When I finally reined myself in Joon was still rubbing his thigh and muttering under his breath. Yoongi seemed to be back with us and not absorbed in his work with headphones on. He was shaking his head and looking between us.

Over the hours we’d been in his studio he’d been forced to endure my antics and then when Joon appeared it gotten worse. We tended to bicker like siblings and though we knew when to stop, we also knew how far we could go and get away with it.

He’d only threatened to kick us both out once. Joon had received the warning about three times and had been forcibly removed once.

Even though Joon hitting his thigh again almost sent me into another fit I refrained, Yoongi’s screen drawing my attention.

“So, can we hear it now?” I asked.

“You can’t,” Namjoon muttered.

That time I actually threw the pillow at him, but he caught it. It left both of us surprised and him, looking a little more smug than he had been before.

Rolling my eyes I turned my attention back to Yoongi. He shook his head and pointed to Joon. “What he said.”

“Why is this the only song that I’m not allowed to hear? I’ve heard and worked on all the others.”

Both of the jerks looked at each other, having some silent conversation before turning back to me.

“Because it wasn’t going to be there before and it’s almost perfect how it is. Plus I want it to be a surprise. I don’t know why you keep asking me when I’ll say no.”

I yawned halfway through his little speech.

“See, you don’t even have the energy to argue with me. Just let it go,” he said, wearing a smirk I’d started to hate.

I wanted to wipe the smugness of both of their faces, but then I released another yawn. Tired was setting in and when I glanced at the clock on the wall I knew why. It was almost 1:30 am. We’d been in the studio since 5 pm.

Getting up sounded horrible, but I knew I had things to do tomorrow. I’d be running around a lot for work and for things with friends I had in South Korea. Some sleep was a must.

Joon followed my eyes to the clock and cursed, getting up.

“We have schedules tomorrow and recording to do. We need to sleep,” he said.

Yoongi looked like he was going to argue, but his mouth closed as quickly as he opened. Turning back to the screen he continued to fiddle with whatever he was doing, which just made Joon roll his eyes.

Another yawn pushed through and I knew that I’d have to leave or I’d end up asleep on his studio. Carefully I rose up, giving my legs the time to adjust after being under me for so long. My stretching produced many cracking sounds, which made Joon cringe and brought Yoongi’s attention back to us.

As I gathered my things he looked at me with a raised brow.

“I have too much to do tomorrow to pull an all-nighter. So I’m going to go,” I said.

For a moment he continues to stare, but then suddenly turns back to his computer. Joon was already halfway out the door, waving to me as he took his leave.

With my bookbag on I turn towards Yoongi, who is staring me down.

“Are you staying here?” I asked.

His lips purse for a moment and then he yet again turns to his computer without a word. Instead of working though I watch him save his work - to several things - and then shut everything down.

A few minutes later we both have all of our stuff and are heading to the entrance. Whipping out my phone I go to request a taxi, but before I can get far he takes the phone from my hand and exits the app.

Brow raised I let him lead me out front to the one van left for the evening. Then before I could ask anything he was helping me inside and getting in behind me.

When a minute had passed with just staring at him he stared back and gestured towards the driver. Snapping out of my trance I relayed the address of my apartment and buckled in just as we started moving.

“A taxi would have sufficed.”

“You’re going the same way as me, it wasn’t a problem,” he responded nonchalantly.

There was no reason to argue with him, plus it saved me having to wait and endure and an awkward taxi ride. I wasn’t in the mood to possibly deal with someone who was talkative.

The entire twenty-minute ride we stayed in silence, both messing with our phones. As we got closer I went to put my phone down and noticed Yoongi angle his away from me. Turning my head I narrowed my eyes on him, but he didn’t glance my way and tilted the screen so I couldn’t see it.

“Did you just take a picture of me?”

“No.”

Rolling my eyes I drop it and unbuckle, we’d pulled upfront. I slide my bag back on and hop out of the car. Waving to him as I go.

“Bye dork.”

Once inside I stripped down and jumped into the shower. I didn’t feel like wasting time, just wanted to get into my bed. Once dried and dressed with a bonnet atop my freshly twisted hair I threw myself on the bed.

My eyes fluttered closed and I felt like I was going under, but thirty minutes later they were upon and I was very awake. The tiredness from earlier was gone, but also still lingered; teasing me about the sleep I wasn’t getting.

Again I tried to sleep, but another half an hour and I gave up. Grabbing my phone from where it sat on my dresser I unlocked it and went to Twitter. My “business” one was lacking, even though most people I knew were very awake and posting. Switching to my stan account I was bombarded with a flurry of comeback announcements and photos of groups I stanned or at least liked.

I scrolled through the feed, liking things, retweeting a few and removing all the posts arguing against someone trying to start another dumb fan war. They were always stupid, because they were between the fans and trying to bring down artists or pit them against their own friends and/or fellow artists who had no ill will towards each other.

The night was riddled with claims of copying and I was having none of it.

Not wanting to feed into it I stumbled upon a comeback announcement for 1Team that I’d been waiting for and quote tweeted it with an all caps caption about my excitement.

Two minutes after the post my phone dinged and a text from Yoongi came through.

Thought you had too much to do?

For a moment I was confused, but then I remembered that he had a secret Twitter account. I’d only found out about it when he’d brought something up in conversation that I’d only posted on my stan Twitter account.

Why are you lurking on my account?

A few seconds passed and then in came a response. I’m not. I just got the notification.

Oh… you have my notifs on? I sent, actually shocked.

Minutes pass and nothing, so I assume he’s fallen asleep or refusing to deal with me. The second I went to sit my phone down a call came through, a glance at the screen told me it was Yoongi and that it was a video call.

Answering it I roll onto my stomach and use the ring on the back to prop it up on my phone. It being overtly firm working to keep it stable.

“Yes, I have them on.” They’re the first words he says before he comes into view. His hair slightly wet, probably from a shower and his face bare.

“Aw, that’s so cute. Trying to make sure you’re the only one I’m gushing about online?” I teased.

He rolled his eyes, using his free hand to push his hair out of his face. There was some shuffling and then he was lying back on a pillow, free arm behind his head.

“Why are you up?” he asked.

A yawn escaped the moment I tried to talk, which made him look at me weird.

“Contrary to the sound I just made, I can’t sleep. I’ve been laying here for over an hour trying.” Sighing, I ran a hand over my face in frustration. “Why are you up?”

“Had an idea before I got to bed,” he admitted.

Without a thought, I felt my face shift and a look of disapproval form. Before I could say anything though he cut me off.

“I know. I should have gone straight to sleep. I couldn’t risk forgetting though. You know that feeling?”

He made a valid point, and since I knew all too well that I spent three hours writing two nights ago I let him have that one.

Another sigh and I laid on my back, staring at the ceiling and hoping to sleep. Sleep felt so close, but every time I felt I’d finally slip away it left me. I wanted to scream.

“Why Sailor V?” Yoongi asked.

“Hm?” I asked, feeling momentarily dazed. Shaking my head I collected myself and recalled the question. “Oh. Sailor Moon was the first anime I saw as a kid and my favorite TV show. And most think the V is because Sailor Venus is my favorite, which is completely false. Mercury owns my heart.”

“So what is the V for?”

“My mother almost named me Vanessa.”

Yoongi laughed and I turned my head so I could see him.

“Vanessa,” he said carefully as if testing it out. “What changed?”

Pursing my lips I abruptly shifted positions again, turning on my side and propping my head up with my hand. “Hmm… she held me and as my grandpa was about to tell the nurse my predetermined name she called me Kendall instead. Said it felt right.”

Yoongi’s face didn’t change much, but I could see the usual look of curiosity that peaked in people. I knew what question he was going to ask next.

“You’re other parent just accepted that?”

That phrasing made me pause. No one usually asked it like that, they always implied the father role. It was interesting to hear the acknowledgment of possibly having not a father. He was still wrong though.

“I’m the sole daughter of a woman who didn’t want a relationship. She didn’t want to be with anyone, she dated but didn’t truly care for it. But she wanted a kid and could afford to go to a clinic to make it happen. It’s the kind of life that made her happy.”

Again Yoongi’s face didn’t change much, he just nodded his head and pursed his lips. After a second or two he spoke up again.

“What’s that like? I assume you still had a normal childhood,” he said.

“Yup. Pretty much. Mom, my three uncles and then her two best friends who were also basically family. They all alternated the father-daughter events or my mom would come. It felt normal. Even though others would swear not having an actual dad must have made it such a lacking childhood.” Sarcasm dripped from my every word as I got to the last bit.

“They’re idiots.”

“Agreed.”

We just stared at each other, neither breaking eye contact. And for once I didn’t feel like panicking and looking away quickly as I usually did with prolonged staring; it made me uncomfortable most of the time.

“Favorite color?” he asked.

“Dark gray and cyan.”

“Cyan?”

“It’s a shade of blue.”

“Ah. Food?”

“Steak, something you know already.”

“Movie?”

“Between Sailor Moon SuperS and Fast Five.”

“Anime.”

“Sailor Moon… and Hellsing Ultimate.”

“Cartoon?”

“Scooby-Doo.”

“TV show?”

“Veronica Mars.”

He paused for a second, brow raised. “What is that?”

The offense that overtook my body was strong even though I knew it wasn’t a show that he would have seen growing up.

“Alexa,” I called out, waiting for the little noise to happen. “Add Veronica Mars to the ‘Yoongi needs to watch’ list.”

“Adding Veronica Mars to ‘Yoongi need to watch’ list,” she parroted back.

When I glanced back and Yoongi he looked shocked, but the smirk he wore told me he was amused. “A list?”

“Yes, there are many things that need to be rectified with you movie and television wise.” I shrugged, a smile threatening the corners of my lips.

The longer we just looked at each other, the harder it was not to smile. Eventually, we both gave in and it was nice a calm and comfortable silence.

“Okay. I get to ask the questions now,” I said after a few minutes passed.

Yoongi groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Hey! Don’t be rude, you just bombarded me with questions.”

He took one look at my face and sighed. “Okay, okay. Stop pouting and ask.”

“Good. So, I’d like to discuss seventeen-year-old audition tape Yoongi’s sense of style and hairstyling choices.”

He groaned, throwing his head back and I hold in my laughter.

After he finally justified his life choices we spent way too much time just asking random questions. When we woke up in the morning, I couldn’t recall when exactly we’d fallen asleep.

#min yoongi #yoongi #suga #original character #oc #sugaxoc #yoongixoc #producer!oc #writer!oc #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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poeticsandaliens · 7 years ago

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Cactus Flower (or There ain’t no grave)

Pairing: Heist Wives (Debbie x Lou)

Rating: Explicit.

Summary: Angst, porn, but emotionally charged porn with a side of hurt/comfort and some near death experiences. Lou is reckless and crashes her bike in New Mexico. Debbie—rife with unresolved attraction and something one would typically call ‘love’—goes after her.

Tagging @tasha-vick, and also @smashingmagicklovely whose “Lou looking like a pimp with a cane” prompt and @alannaofroses whose hurt/comfort prompt I used as inspiration.

Read Here on AO3

When her phone rings, four PM on a lazy August afternoon, Debbie is melting like hot wax over Tammy’s kitchen stools. Her cheek smushes into her fist, propped half asleep against the counter. A glass of ice tea sweats beside her. The warehouse had grown eerie in Lou’s absence; as the temperature climbed, its air smelled of dust and hot aluminum, and her voice echoed off the walls like a choir of poltergeists. Eventually, she couldn’t stand to laze about the place and paid Tammy a visit.

“Are you gonna get that?” Tammy asks, wiping the counter free of crumbs.

Her gaze flicks to the buzzing phone. “Why would I?”

“It could be important.”

Debbie sags into her seat. Glancing at the unknown number— “It’s not Lou.”

“Oh, so you’re sulking around my house because your girlfriend took a vacation without you.”

“Not my girlfriend,” Debbie scowls, but her heart isn’t in it. “And only if by ‘took a vacation’ you mean ‘fucked off the face of the planet.” That’s the real issue, here—Lou went AWOL a month after the heist without so much as a goodbye text.

“Bullshit.” Tammy rolls her eyes. “You two are practically married, and you know it. Your—how did Constance put it—eye sex makes everyone around you uncomfortable.”

“Tammy, it’s Lou. Lou is—” Solitary, impulsive, off the map in more ways than one.

“As head over heels for you as you are for her. Trust me.”

“I’m not—”

“Debs, we’ve known each other for a long time.” Tammy leans over the counter, resting her hand on the lid of the blender and shooting her a very pointed look. “You can’t lie to me. I am the only genuine adult in your life, and as an adult I reserve the right to tell you to get your head out of your ass.” She lowers her voice to a whisper and throws a sidelong glance at the hallway, checking for eavesdropping children. “This… pining needs to stop.”

“I’m not talking about this,” she tells Tammy under her breath. It is as close as Debbie Ocean gets to you’re right. Privately, she has resigned herself to the possibility that Lou got tired of waiting for a declaration of love. She has not yet resigned herself to the possibility of never seeing Lou again.

“Have you heard from her at all?”

“No one hears from Lou when she’s on the road.” Also not entirely true: A week after she left, Lou sent her a photograph with no caption, of a blush-pink flower sprouting from the arm of a saguaro. She didn’t respond.

Debbie’s phone buzzes again, rattling the granite countertop. The same number, a 505 area code and an ominous persistence, flashes onto her screen. Tammy arches an eyebrow, purses her lips worriedly.

“It’s a con,” she assures Tammy.

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve done that con.” She tries to sound confident; phoning it in has always been her specialty, but the facade drops where Lou is concerned. She can’t suppress the tug in her gut—what if it is Lou, calling from some pay phone in the middle of nowhere? She wants to hear I love you. I miss you, through static and Lou’s husky drawl. They’re both romantics at heart, beneath their wit and jaded shells.

The phone goes quiet. They let out sighs she didn’t even know they were holding. Then, after a moment measured only in relieved breaths, it buzzes again. Same number. Tammy opens her mouth, but Debbie caves first. She grabs the phone off the counter.

“What the hell do you think you’re—”

“Harsh, Debbie. And here I thought you missed the sound of my voice.” Lou rattles her, rough and rousing through the speaker. She presses her lips together and fights back a smile, keeps her optimism in check. She can’t help her sharp intake of breath, or the thrum of her heartbeat, or the nagging sensation that something isn’t right.

It’s the name that throws her. Maybe the unknown number should concern her, but sirens wail in her head every time Lou says her name, and not ‘Honey’ or ‘Deb,’ or ‘Sweet’ when she’s tipsy. Her name only crosses Lou’s lips in moments of intimacy, uttered as a prayer or a curse. Never in passing, never in greeting, never in casual conversation. The last time Lou greeted her with “Debbie,” she cornered her in their miniscule apartment and read her the riot act about trusting Claude Becker. Two months later she was in jail.

“I thought you were a scammer.” She goes for nonchalant—she always does, with Lou. Her hand trembles, but her speech remains steady.

“I am,” Lou replies.

“Ha ha. What happened Lou?” She can hear the exhaustion in Lou’s voice—it was always weathered, sure, but her familiar accent and the swing of her words have given way to a cadence Debbie doesn’t recognize, like a violinist playing with snapped bowstrings.

“I need you to come to New Mexico.”

“Why?” She wants it to be a job, but there’s nothing in New Mexico she feels comfortable stealing.

“Good news or bad news first?”

“You’re stalling.” She wouldn’t call it so blatantly if her heart wasn’t cracking her damn ribcage. She hates where this conversation is going; she hates Lou’s inability to admit something went wrong, hates it even more because she understands it. She had plans, impressive plans, and even as the detectives were slapping handcuffs on her wrists she convinced herself those plans would run smoothly. She would sell the art; she would rig a poker tournament; she wasn’t going to jail. Everything was going to be fine.

“I ate shit in San Juan Valley,” Lou growls. “A rock flew into my spokes, the tire jammed, and I hit a hoodoo so hard I smashed it. As it turns out, rocks are stronger than people.”

“Jesus Lou, when was this?” Debbie holds her breath. Tammy is staring at her across the counter, eyes wide as dinner plates.

A pause. “Four weeks ago.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me four weeks ago?”

“Why does it matter?” Lou sounds infinitely more bitter than she did two minutes ago, but more importantly she sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. Lou. On the verge of fucking tears. And Debbie’s not sure whether to apologize or panic. Hearing Lou waver like that flips her guilt switch like nothing else can.

“It’s bad,” whispers Lou. “It’s fucking bad.” she collects herself. “Come to New Mexico. I’ll text you the address.”

There’s a decisive click, and the line buzzes eerily. She puts down her cell phone.

“Deb?” Tammy waves a hand over her face. “Deb, what happened?”

“Lou crashed the bike in New Mexico,” she tells Tammy, and it still sounds like a cosmic impossibility, like she’s looking in on some other universe or maybe just tossing and turning through a routine nightmare. Maybe she’ll wake up in an hour.

“Is she all right?”

Debbie slings her bag over her shoulder and pushes in the stool. “I don’t know,” she snaps in Tammy’s general direction. “I don’t know, God,” she hunches over the counter, resting her elbows on the cool granite and pressing all ten fingers to her temples. “I don’t know,” she whines again, trying and failing to inhale. “It’s really fucking bad, that’s all she said.”

Tammy, always a mother to her friends in some capacity, rests her palm on Debbie’s back. “If she called you, it can’t be that bad.”

“I’ve never heard her sound like that before, Tam,” and the tears come as a shock. Somehow, she never thought she’d break this easily. “She sounded so… fragile. Lou did. Do you have any idea what it would take for her to sound like that?”

Tammy presses her lips together. Debbie knows she’s lost for words, lost for solutions. Debbie doesn’t blame her—she’s supposed to be the calm, collected one, not the fearless criminal mastermind having a panic attack at her friend’s kitchen counter. And yet—it’s Lou. God, everything in her aches for Lou; she’s so in love with this woman. She needs Lou like her own blood. Losing it drop by drop since May is slowly killing her, but hearing Lou crack is unfathomably worse. She imagines losing Lou in one fell stroke, running in circles like a chicken with its head cut off.

“I know how I’d feel if it were my husband.” Tammy tells her. “I’d want to see him as soon as possible. I would want to hug him and kiss him and reassure myself over and over again that he was alive.” She, too, seems on the verge of terror, but suppresses it for Debbie’s sake. “That’s why you need to pull yourself together, Deb. Go to New Mexico, and don’t come back without her.”

* * * * *

New Mexico blisters her skin. She rides the adrenaline of anxiety and tangible heat waves, barreling through the wasteland in a canary yellow rental car. She watches the skyline through Lou’s black aviators, her shoulders pinking through the open window. Sunscreen is for tourists, for people whose best friend isn’t lying on some stale hospital cot.

A billboard shimmers against the buzzard-flecked sky. Jesus Saves. 1-800-TRUTH, in block letters, a raven perched on its rim. She wonders if Lou passed the same sign, revved her motorbike and tossed back her head in irreverent laughter. She understands now, why Lou loves the desert. It’s hellish, desolate, but if she looks closely it brims with tenacious life. Rattlesnakes and roadrunners and the skulls of lost cattle, bleached like fine decor. The undergrowth sprouts spines for foliage. Creatures here breathe dust, drool poison; at night they mate and birth beneath the sand. Lou belongs here, a leathered and weathered outlaw of a woman ripping through hell with the scream of a two-stroke engine, grinning into the blaze. Beneath her prickly shell, she is ripe and lurid as a cactus flower.

Eventually, the highway winds into a labyrinth of hoodoos, lurching overhead like the ghosts of cowboys summoned by her arrival. By Lou’s arrival. They line the road, her honor guard as she nears the town of Farmington. Behind the hoodoos, toothy spires of rock jut toward sky. She thought the rock here would be redder, ruddier, but it seems the New Mexico sun has stripped the landscape to its bones, as it strips everything that lives and dies here.

* * * * *

She tells the receptionist she’s here to see a Moira White. She recognizes Lou’s alias from their youth, scamming their way through Vegas casinos, counting cards at cocktail parties. She gets in with a confident “I’m her sister” and an updated ID reading Carrie Everton-White. For the first time, Debbie can’t help but think how much easier it would be to do this legally, to respectfully offer her real name and cement her place in Lou’s life.

She finds Lou in beaten-down street clothes—a leather jacket that’s clearly seen some shit and a turquoise vest. Something in Debbie seizes when she notices the tie—even here, in a fucking hospital, Lou had to put on her tie. She sits on the edge of bed, her palms digging into the sheets. She is painfully out of place here, in this muted room that smells of antiseptic.

Debbie shoves her hands into her pockets, let the car key dig into her skin. “Hey, Lou.”

Lou looks up, and something like shyness—as close as Lou’s ever come to it—passes over her features. Shyness and two thick, white scars along her chin and cheekbone, where lines of stitches had done their part. “Hi.”

* * * * *

The story is one Debbie has heard a thousand times— roving, hungry-eyed man grasping at a young waitress. Lou, who’s gritty sense of justice rails for all the girls who used to be her, putting her glitzy, green boot between the him and the her and daring him to protest. The waitress scampered back to the kitchen, and the man spat tobacco through his salt-and-pepper beard and asked her if it was here shiny new bike out front. If she meant it when she told him to back off, if she had the balls to back it up.

The girl—Laura, eighteen, waitressing to pay her way through college—watched it go down. She watched them scream down a dirt highway track where at night, kids smoke fat cigars and homemade blunts and race their purple Volkswagens into the moon. Where one day in July, Lou smoked a man like a cheap cigarette until he kicked up a rock and it caught between the wrong two spokes of her wheel, and she barreled so fast into a sandstone spectator that it crumbled.

“Thing is,” Lou says now, “the bike took most of the damage, but that’s not saying much. The rock shattered like shrapnel. One piece stuck in my leg, another one in my hip. There were other things—a couple bruised ribs, a few stitches, but Jesus, Deb. There was a lot of blood.” She stares, fixates, on the scuffed tile floor and takes a deep breath. “I died out there. The rock nicked an artery. They only told me when I came to.” Another pause, another breath through her nose. “My leg is fucked.” She glances up to meet Debbie’s espresso-brown eyes, and Debbie knows that despite her best efforts Lou can see them water.

“I don’t mean broken, Deb. I mean fucked. I mean, it’ll walk, but never without help. Some things just can’t be fixed, not when a slab of rock the size of a railroad spike ripped through them.” She blinks at Debbie, hoarse and frustrated and trying to gauge a reaction. “Are you going to say anything?”

Lou can’t look at herself in the silence, not yet. She fucking died here. Debbie always pictured Lou as the rebel riding through the wasteland, but she was nearly another body swallowed into it and bleached beneath its endless sky. “You’re really something, Lou.” Her lower lip trembles in a relieved, tired smile. She rests a hand on Lou’s shoulder, reassuring herself that her partner is not a ghost.

Lou makes a face. “Well I better be,” she drawls, “I came back from the damn grave.”

“Yeah,” Debbie whispers, letting her fingers run through Lou’s un-styled hair, committing to memory her partner’s soft planes and sharp edges. “Yeah, you did.”

* * * * *

Lou forges Moira White’s signatures on her release forms while Debbie gathers some of her things.

“I didn’t want you to see me in that Godawful hospital gown,” Lou confesses, “so I sent Laura to my hotel for a change of clothes.”

“Laura, the waitress?” Debbie asks. Lou mentioned she’d used the girl’s phone to call her, and that she had been by.

“Yeah.” Lou ties back her hair with a snap of a rubber band. “She wanted to help. Apparently, I ‘defended her honor.’ She was a smart kid and didn’t ask too many questions about where I came from, so she made good conversation while I was trapped in this awful room.” In their line of work, honest conversation has always been a luxury. It’s never strangers they have to worry about, but people close enough to trust. There are two kinds of people a thief can talk to: a trusted partner and a friendly face she’ll never see again.

“Done.” Lou sets down the clipboard on her side table. She drums her fingers on the wood. “I’m not sure—” her voice falters, and Debbie’s heart breaks. “I’m not sure how to do this.” How to walk out of here, how to reclaim her freedom. This was the heartbreak Debbie hid while she was schmoozing the cops for parole.

She looks at the sleek black cane leaning against the bed. Its head is a gleaming cobra, its fangs poised to strike. Leave it to Lou to find a cane that looks like it belongs to a fuck-you rich Grim Reaper. It’s impressive, really.

She meets the cobra’s emerald eyes, then Lou’s blue ones. “Where did you get that?”

Lou smirks—a raw, tainted thing—and says, “I stole it from Bram Stoker while I was dead.”

“You would rob a Victorian aristocrat.”

“Well,” Lou replies, with distinctly less spunk than Debbie’s used to, “turns out Amazon will deliver your shit anywhere when you have thirty-eight million dollars.”

Debbie snorts out a laugh and waits. She looks at Lou, wearing black leather and velvet on the cot’s stark white sheets, her legs dangling over the side. She looks at the stumped pout of Lou’s lips and the furrow of her brow as she decides to do this but doesn’t know what she’s doing or how. The cobra’s head bursting from a slick cane, staring Debbie down.

What now? it seems to ask.

She thinks of the night Tammy’s son was born. She wasn’t there—she was in prison, missing her friends’ life milestones and entertaining revenge fantasies—but one day over coffee Tammy told her the story. How she lay in the hospital bed, haggard and hungry, with this fragile-as-cobwebs being wriggling in her arms. How her husband sprawled on the visitor’s chair with a five o’clock shadow and frightening bags beneath his eyes and watched them with the most tender, puzzled look she’d ever seen. How utterly lost they both felt, wondering what the hell to do now, because in Tammy’s words, here’s a breakable, bendable person we love with our entire being, and there isn’t a fucking manual for this.

And when she meets Lou’s eyes, Debbie understands. What she feels now is incomparable to parenthood, but it’s something akin to what Tammy described—an older, wearier cousin of that daunting what now? How do we do this?

Debbie unbuckles her nude pumps and slips them off her feet to match Lou in height. She sits down next to her, sinking into a desperate silence. Lou, indomitable Lou—who crafts solutions out of thin air, who finishes fights, who puts out candles with her tongue—watches her through storm-blue eyes, begging her to know what to do. Quietly, hesitantly, Debbie slips an arm around her partner’s waist, and she feels Lou do the same. Lou’s other hand clasps the green-eyed cobra. When Debbie stands, Lou stands too, trembling and unaccustomed to the remake of her own body. Debbie’s discarded shoes glint in the flare of fluorescent light.

* * * * *

They drive Northeast through Utah and Colorado, watching the landscape darken to the color of tangerines and bushfires, then fade to a smoky grey. The Rockies tower over them when they finally pull into a Motel 6, sheltering wildflowers and patches of summer snow.

Tammy calls first, and Debbie gives her the rundown while Lou sits in a lukewarm shower. She offers to tell the others, so Debbie doesn’t have to, so she and Lou can curl up in a cheap hotel quilt and figure out how their lives are going to change.

The next phone call is from Daphne, who informs them that she’s catching a plane to New York ASAP and no one can stop her. Then Nine Ball, Amita, Constance. Even Rose, who barely uses her mobile phone. The turnover of friendly voices touches her—the gang is rallying, turning up for she and Lou because apparently nothing fosters friendship like stealing a hundred and fifty million dollars in diamonds.

Lou emerges from the bathroom in a plaid cotton robe. Debbie holds her waist, steadies her, and they limp to the tatty queen-sized bed. “Thanks,” says Lou bitterly as she sits down.

“Yeah,” Debbie replies, rubbing feather-light circles on her back. The cane, an implement for balance more than support, lies on the carpet. Lou glares at it.

“God, I’m not used to this.” Lou chuckles, her shoulders shaking.

“You almost died, Lou. You did die. You don’t have to be used to it right now.” I almost lost you. It’s selfish, sure, but she lived five years without Lou, and she won’t do it again.

Lou’s eyes glisten. She laughs something throaty and harsh. “I don’t know what I’m doing, honey. I know how to wait for a wound to heal; I waited five years and eight months for you to get out of jail, but this isn’t a waiting game. I’m different now; my body is… different, misaligned. It’s as fixed as it’ll ever be.” She sighs. “I haven’t figured out how to live with that yet.”

“Lou, look at me.”

She looks—wet, ice-blue eyes, all cheekbones and stubborn pride. Debbie kisses her. She loves this woman, this reckless, ritzy lover, patron saint of neon club lights and the vibrant blossoms of cacti.

“I don’t care,” she mumbles into Lou’s lips. “I don’t care if you walk with that stupid supervillain cane; I don’t care about scars; I don’t care if you don’t look invincible anymore.”

When they break apart, Debbie’s heart beats into her ribs at a million miles an hour. Her breaths come in heated pants. “I’m so in love with you. I’m sorry it took me this damn long.”

“Sweetheart,” Lou purrs, as if she hasn’t teared up. “I’ve been gone on you for decades.”

This time, she captures Lou’s lips in the searing kiss she deserves and feels the rapturous rumble of Lou’s vocal chords against her hand. She pushes her back into the mattress, sliding a hand between the buttons of her vest and tugging them open one by one.

“How do you want to do this?” Lou asks as they part for air.

“Carefully,” she says, deadpan. Here.” She musters the swagger to take the lead she once imagined Lou would take, and Lou bares herself naked with her back on the sheets, her good leg bent and Debbie between her knees. Debbie kisses her way down collarbones and bare breasts. She takes Lou’s taut nipple between her teeth, eliciting a husky moan. Her fingers flutter over the scar on Lou’s cheek, the one beneath her ribs, and down her hipbone, before slipping between her thighs.

She always thought that when they cracked, it would be Lou slamming her into a brick wall, kissing her sloppily, drunkenly, scotch on her breath and her hands all up in Debbie’s cocktail dress. She didn’t think it would be this languorous, that Lou would be so delicate and pliable, coming undone beneath her. “You’re really something,” Debbie murmurs, bringing her mouth back to Lou’s and reveling in the feeling of Lou’s wanting tongue between her lips.

Lou smells like Old Spice and shampoo, and Debbie breathes her in. She dips two experimental fingers into Lou’s center and cradles her when she arches off the bed, conscious of the injury to which neither of them has adjusted. “Fuck,” she growls, thrusting and curving into Lou, fitting the shapes of them like gears on a clock as it ticks down to the hour. Her sex aches; she labors on Lou’s wiry body, the flex and flux of her musculature as she climbs, and she thinks all the dubstep, club-stall sex she had in her twenties will never compare to making love to Lou Miller in a Motel 6.

When Lou comes, it’s quiet, a whimper from her chest and the ripple of her abdominal muscles beneath Debbie’s expert lips. Debbie hardly has to work herself to tip into orgasm with her, collapsing loose-limbed and short of breath, her lips still drifting down Lou’s midsection. She explores Lou without haste, as she has always been and as she has changed.

“Was that my delayed ‘welcome back to the land of the living?’” Lou asks when Debbie has settled, and their fingers have locked beneath the sheet.

“Something like that,” Debbie replies with a smug, post-coital smile.

“You know,” says Lou, her voice deepening thoughtfully, “I came back because I couldn’t bear for the last thing I ever sent you to be a picture of a plant.”

Debbie snorts. There’s something absurd about the whole thing, maybe because she didn’t see Lou for the first month after the crash, but there’s something darkly comic about Lou rising from the dead like the dapper, immortal being she is.

“It was a very pretty plant.” A cactus flower the color of a storm-born dawn.

Lou huffs. “I turned down the pearly gates for you,” she scoffs with a lopsided grin—the first snarky, all-Lou smile she’s seen since she arrived.

“Bullshit.” Debbie smirks. “We’re hellbound, Baby.” And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

#ocean's 8 #ocean's eight #debbie ocean #lou miller #heist wives #debbie x lou #deb x lou #nine ball #tammy #amita #constance #rose weil #daphne kluger #ocean's 8 fanfic #heist wives fanfic #tw: blood #tw: injury

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teamoliv-archive · 5 years ago

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Story Scene

Team OLIV: The Red Arena Part 1: Atlas Academy Episode 4: Expectations

Previous Scene << CURRENT >> Next Scene

The new weekly supply runs had begun just as they had the night of the team’s first celebration. Taking Violet’s initial suggestion, they split up and went off in pairs partly to get things done quicker and partly to learn to better tolerate one another.

Violet and Onyx had drawn the lot for this week’s trip. Despite letting her imagination getting the better of her, she had to remind herself that a guy and a girl alone out on the town didn’t automatically equal ‘date’. As much as the thought of being whisked off by a charming wealthy stranger would be in a book, the reality of the whole thing was a grounding experience. The unfortunate fact of the matter was, not only was this more a team building exercise than anything else, but her team leader was deceptively infuriating.

Violet was thankful that the shopping wound up taking them mostly to the more reasonable end of the city. Everything was still more expensive than she was used to, but Onyx had once again ensured he would cover it. It was more than strange being around someone who was on the exact opposite end of the economic spectrum from her. To say it felt unfair was a huge understatement, but she tried her best to not let it bother her. That was harder than it first sounded. Onyx had spent most of their trip picking up the things everyone needed, taking the speaking lead and flouting his money and status as often as possible to the point where it quickly grew annoying. When he began posturing in front of the fourth store clerk when they were buying the ammunition, she finally cut in.

“Can we go to one store without you talking about how important you are?” She had opted to carry some of the bags they had gathered. All that was left was the candy store. Since it was the one thing everyone managed to agree on at the end, it made sense to end each trip with it picking up an order for the whole team. That part Violet had insisted that they each pay for themselves. It was the one piece of equal footing they had so far.

Onyx only gave one of his characteristic sly sneers. He never appeared to not be smiling, as if he knew some joke that the people around him weren’t in on. “My dear, Violet. Remember, I’m not like the rest of you. I am a Cheshire. I have expectations to live up to as someone with a modicum of the public eye on them.”

“You’re not the only one who has someone else’s standards to live up to.” Violet counters, “You know who my brother is. You think the rest of the academy doesn’t look at me and instantly compare me to Robin? You think the teachers who saw him graduate won’t? I’m not going to pretend my family is some kind of big deal but...”

“People know the name and will judge you accordingly.” Onyx finishes, “Let me give you a piece of advice about how to handle that. You don’t have your every move judged when you’re at a party, or who you speak to analyzed for the sake of politics or business deals, but the fact remains that if you are being held to a standard it helps to act the part and make sure they see what they want to see.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Violet says letting the bags she held hang lower to the ground and slowing her step. “You’re not expected to be held to the standard of a Vytal Festival tournament winner. I can’t act my way through that. If I screw up or I’m just not good enough, that’s it. I’ll always just be Robin’s sister who wasn’t as good as he was.”

Onyx lets the smile drop from his face for a rare moment and motions gently to a row of holographic displays by an electronics shop. An Atlas news site was broadcasting. “Believe me, I understand this a little more than you may think. Watch...”

“Mr. Cheshire,” The commentator began, “Thank you for joining us again. It’s always a pleasure to have you.”

“Thank you, Robert.” A strongly built man with a greying hair and beard sat comfortably on the couch with a rich white and red suit; a matching red half cape draped over one shoulder. By his side was a large steel briefcase that lay on the floor with a lion emblem with a blade coming from its mouth clearly visible- the Cheshire Financial group logo. “As you know, the fifth anniversary of the opening of the Cassandra Cheshire Memorial Home for the Rediscovered is almost here. I had hoped to do something unique to honor my late wife’s memory.”

“Why don’t you tell us a little about her, Tyrael? For the sake of the folks at home. Her family dates all the way back from before the War, right?”

“That is correct. The Baskervilles were an old and proud family, though one not without its faults as the controversial and short time her father spent on the council will attest. I can personally say I never got along with my wife’s family as much as I would have liked, however...”

Violet stopped listening to the droning public relations speech Onyx’s father had started and turned to her team leader. The words ‘late’ and ‘memorial’ told her all she needed to hear to connect the dots. “Can I... ask what happened? About your mom I mean.”

“Another time perhaps.” His tone lost that background luster of superiority and pride for a short while. Why of all times did Father choose to talk about this right when he passed by the screens in the middle of the kingdom? Not that it could have been planned, of course, but Onyx cursed his ill luck all the same. He hated reliving that memory. Spending weeks in the hospital after the accident that destroyed the vehicle he and his adoptive mother had been in was suffering enough with his physical injuries. Spending that entire time knowing he was the only one who made it out was the real difficulty. Lilac, his older sister and only biological child of the Cheshires, took it even harder. Even his father, otherwise a man with impeccable control over his emotions, lent himself to grief. It was the only time in his life Onyx had seen Tyrael Cheshire cry.

Violet wasn’t too sure how to continue her line of questioning now. She felt it might be better to just drop it, but that might make the walk to the last part of their trip awkward and tense. Again, she needed to search for some kind of common ground. First they needed to keep moving again, though. She reached out for Onyx’s sleeve to urge him forward but he jolted back, which caused her to react in kind. “Are you okay?”

Onyx leveled a tense stare for a moment before brushing himself off. “I am perfectly capable of walking on my own, thank you.” He puts his smile back on after turning away from the newscast and started walking, gently tucking his fingers into his pockets. “It would be best not to keep the other two waiting.”

Violet followed, keeping herself next to her teammate as they got farther away from the display window and its broadcast. She turned to look at it one more time. The voices were muffled now and she couldn’t read the captions at this distance, but she swore she heard the word ‘mercenary company’. Some huntsmen would refer to themselves as mercenaries, she knew, and many were in all but name. It probably meant nothing but something about it felt meaningful. She caught back up to Onyx quickly- thankfully he wasn’t walking very fast. “Can I ask you something?” She said after a brief silence.

“I suspect you will anyway.” Onyx replies, twirling a hand in the air.

“No offense, but... why are you here? You said it was something about business and Uncle Cobalt said he was your dad’s friend, but it doesn’t really make a lot of sense.”

Onyx didn’t seem as bothered by this question as he was the last one. He didn’t break his plastic grin or flippant gesturing. “Are you aware of how my father rose to the prominence that he did? You aren’t the only one on this team who has hunstmen in the family. My father was an accomplished huntsmen long before going into business and likes to maintain good relations with the academies. He insists that huntsmen are vital to the safety of the kingdoms and that it’s important to understand them. I was required to join Atlas Academy to understand this. Strangely enough my sister was not, though she came of age when Mother was still alive.”

”Let me guess, she didn’t want you to enlist.”

”Precisely. Mother always felt the army and the huntsmen were disposable bodies to keep the lives of their betters easier. She came from an old family that still believed themselves to be modern aristocracy. My father and his team had formed a successful mercenary company before he moved to business- after wooing and marrying my mother of course. My sister, Lilac, was forbidden from such dangerous work but once Mother was killed Father decided it was time I step up and learn the trade as well, just to be safe. The entire household began training in using aura at a bare minimum. Ivory and I were both of age to join the academy, but as I said before-”

Violet cut him off once the phrase ‘was killed’ registered with her. That wasn’t a normal set of words to use when talking about a loved one passing. “Wait. What did you just say? What do you mean ‘was killed’?”

Onyx stops. “Pardon. It was a poor choice of phrasing. What about you? Do you mean to tell me you have no personal ambition beyond upholding a family tradition?”

“It’s more like I have a really high goal to reach. My brother, my parents... they’re all more skilled than I can wrap my head around. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to keep up. I want to help people. I want to join my Mom and Dad with their rescues and I want to make my brother proud- wherever he is now.”

“What are you implying by that?” Onyx asks, it being his turn to pry to see how she liked her personal life being examined. “Is he missing somehow?”

“Well, kind of...” Violet replies with less difficulty than she expected. “He took some job out in Mistral after graduating. We didn’t see him much after that, but he would send money home. He would never talk about it, though. We’re worried...”

Onyx found that a small bit strange, but it was entirely possible the former tournament champion found himself in some lucrative, if less than savory work. Onyx knew the type well enough- his family had enough of their own illicit behind-the-scenes deals for him to pick up the patterns and Mistral was notoriously full of illegal syndicates. He wasn’t going to say anything, though. He didn’t want any more awkward questions- most of which would likely have lead with ‘How or why do you know that?’. “Back to my initial point, if I may? Remember when I said my father was a mercenary with his former team?” After a nod from Violet, he continued. “As it happens the reason Major Ymir knows my family is because he was one of that team- the only one to enlist in the army instead of joining the company. Watch him in the field should we ever be so lucky to do so. That will be the level of skill I am being personally held to by my father. I have a duel waiting for me once I graduate and that is being used to determine what I will be doing in the company as absurd as it sounds.”

Violet took a moment to process the information. She was pretty curious as to how they’ve never actually met before if her uncle was so close to his family. She’d have to ask about that later. “You know... my dad keeps trying to reassure me I don’t have to hold myself to Robin’s standard but I know everyone else will be. Maybe we could train together. We both have a lot to live up to.”

Onyx chuckles and vanishes, reappearing at the other side of the briefly confused Violet with the break of laughter. “Are you suggesting a team rivalry? An eternal struggle to see which of us will be able to surpass the other?”

Violet raised her hand and snapped her fingers, creating a series of small flashing lights that popped loudly when they flared right in front of her team leader’s face. “You know what? That could be fun. Ready for a race, then?” Without warning, she dashed ahead to the candy store down the block.

#teamoliv #story scene #Onyx Cheshire #Violet Goodfellow #Tyrael Cheshire #Team OLIV: Atlas Academy

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booksbakingandblogging · 5 years ago

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It’s time to step up and do the work to eradicate racism. That’s an abrupt start to a blog post, but it’s also the truth and one that we shouldn’t ignore any longer. Over the past week, protests have erupted all over the world in response to the murder of George Floyd, and it doesn’t look like they’re stopping any time soon – and with good reason. Black people have been faced with racism every day for centuries and they are tired of it. Of course they are. It’s a gross injustice and it’s taking human lives. This isn’t a political issue – it’s a human rights issue, and we need to stop looking away and face it. We live in a world with systemic racism, where Black people (and people of colour in general) face microaggressions every single day. Racism is a system created by white people, so it will need to be dismantled by white people as well. Let’s stand up, and get to work (follow this link to find out how you can help).

That was my little speech. Now, let’s get down to specifics of this post: we need to educate ourselves. A lot of people (myself included) have been too ignorant about racism for a long time, and in order to be able to help, we need to learn. Part of that is reading books by Black authors, both fiction and non-fiction. Fiction can teach us empathy and it can create understanding, which is extremely important. On the other hand, non-fiction faces us with our history and everything that’s going on in the world in concrete terms. Let’s educate ourselves and read books by Black authors. Not just the ones that tell us about pain and trauma, but also the ones about joy and happiness. We need to learn, and this is a good way to do it. Plus, by reading more Black authors, we’re giving off a sign to the publishing industry that books by Black authors are wanted and cherished.

10 books by Black authors to read right now

While putting together this list, I realised that I can do much better myself as well: I need to read more books by Black authors too. Luckily, there are tons of other people out there making lists of books by Black authors, so I’ve found many books to add to my TBR already. I recommend checking out these two lists by Chapters of May and Electric Lit, too. If you’re looking for more non-fiction resources, including articles, films and podcasts, you can check out this list!

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1. The Hate U Give – Angie Thomas (2017)

Let’s start with the most obvious one first given the current situation. If you’re a fan of YA and haven’t read this yet: what are you doing? This novel tells the story of Starr, a Black girl who sees her best friend be murdered by the police right in front of her eyes. It deals with the aftermath of this traumatic and terrible event, as Starr struggles with what happened while having to see her friend be talked about all over the media. At the same time, it’s also a story about Starr as a teenage girl, and her loving family. This book was inspired by the Black Lives Matter movement and it’s extremely important. I’m happy to say that it’s a bestseller and has sold millions of copies.

2. Such a Fun Age – Kiley Reid (2019)

In Such a Fun Age, our 25-year-old Black protagonist Emira works as a babysitter for a white family, caring for three-year-old Briar. The story kicks off when Emira is apprehended by a security guard in a grocery store because he thinks she has kidnapped Briar. The book deals with racism and white privilege and it’s a very eye-opening read. I learned a lot from it in terms of unintentional racism (remember: impact is more important than intent). Plus, the writing is phenomenal. I can’t wait to read more by this debut author.

3. A Different Drummer – William Melvin Kelley (1962)

I read this book last month, and it’s the best book I’ve read in a long time (read my full review here). It is a literary masterpiece: stylistically brilliant and a story that takes on epic proportions. On a random day in 1957, in a fictional state in the deep south of the USA, the entire Black population decides to leave. They pack their things and leave the state, fed up with its racist history and the way they are being treated by the white population. The story is told through the perspective of this white population that is left behind and it is so incredibly powerful. William Melvin Kelley was described as ‘the lost giant of American literature’. Why was he forgotten? Let’s just say it: it was most likely because of racism. Go read this book!

4. Let’s Talk About Love – Claire Kann (2018)

June is also pride month, so I want to add at least one LGBTQIA+ book to this list. Alice is a Black, biromantic, asexual girl in college and she is done with dating after her girlfriend breaks up with her for being asexual. But then Takumi becomes her new co-worker at the library she works at, and she can’t stop thinking about him. This novel explores asexuality in such a wonderful way and I thoroughly enjoyed it and learned a lot from it. I’d highly recommend picking it up!

5. There Are More Beautiful Things Than Beyoncé – Morgan Parker (2017)

Let’s throw some poetry in the mix! In this collection, Morgan Parker explores what it’s like to be a Black American woman in the 21st century. She uses pop-culture and political references as her framework and doesn’t shy away from important and difficult topics such a depression, isolation, and exoticism. Thought-provoking and confronting, this is an essential collection for anyone who is into modern poetry.

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6. Dear Martin – Nic Stone (2017)

In Dear Martin, main character Justyce tries to do everything ‘right’: get good grades, dress appropriately, and be an all-around upstanding citizen. Nevertheless, when he tries to help out his drunk ex-girlfriend, he is arrested by a (racist) white cop, and he realises he cannot escape racial profiling from the institution that is meant to protect him. He feels a lot of frustration and anger at this realisation and decides to try and apply the teachings of Martin Luther King Jr. He begins to write letters to MLK as he tries to find his place in the world, dealing with white privileged, racist assholes (let’s just say it as it is) and police brutality. Another book that taught me so, so much.

7. Why I’m No Longer Talking To White People About Race – Reni Eddo-Lodge (2017)

This is the only book on this list that I haven’t read in its entirety – but I’m in the middle of it and I am learning an awful lot about racism and white privilege in Britain. For those of you who think that racism is only a big problem in the USA: think again, and read this. Reni Eddo-Lodge didn’t plan on writing this book; she wrote a blog post with the same title, explaining that whenever she talked to white people about racism, she encountered skeptical stares and people unwilling to learn. Wanting to protect herself from that in the future, she vowed to stop talking about racism to white people. The response to the blog post was so enormous, however, that she ended up writing this book. It’s been on my radar for a few years now, but I’m ashamed to admit that it apparently took an uprising for me to get up off my lazy ass and actually read this, and educate myself. I urge you to do the same!

8. Children of Blood and Bone – Tomi Adeyemi (2018)

More of a fantasy reader? No problem, I’ve got a recommendation for that as well, even though fantasy is a notoriously white genre. Children of Blood and Bone is a YA fantasy novel based on West African mythology. It tells the story of a land in which magic has disappeared. When that happened, the king ordered all maji to be murdered. The children of these maji remain alive, though, but they become outcasts. They have darker skin than the rest of the population and are judged and discriminated against because of it (sound familiar?). The novel tells the story of Zélie, who finds herself with a chance to bring magic back, but has to race against the clock to do so. This is a YA fantasy story that has an all-black cast of character and explores and condemns racism: such an important addition to the genre.

9. With the Fire on High – Elizabeth Acevedo (2019)

This book tells the story of Emoni, who lives with her grandmother and is still in high school – but also has a young daughter to take care of. Emoni loves to cook, and the novel is filled with delicious descriptions of food and some of the recipes Emoni creates from scratch, which I always love in a book. It also deals with all the prejudice Emoni encounters as a Black teenage mother, however, and how it differs from how her daughter’s white teenage father is treated. Sexism and racism are both explored, but this novel is also a wonderful coming of age story as Emoni tries to figure out what she wants to do with her life.

10. The Sun Is Also a Star – Nicola Yoon (2016)

Spanning one single day in New York, this YA novel deals with racism and immigration, but it’s also a story of two people falling in love. Natasha has one day before her family will be deported to Jamaica, and she is desperate to find a way to stay in the USA. In the meantime, Korean-American Daniel is on his way to his college admission interview. They meet by chance and they spend one day together, Daniel wanting to fall in love and Natasha feeling the absolute opposite. I learned a lot about both of these two characters’ cultures and about what it is like to be an immigrant in the USA. As far as learning about other perspectives goes, this is a very good book to pick up.

With everything that's going on in the world, I wanted to do my part to raise some awareness and hopefully help educate some people. Here are 10 great books by Black authors to pick up and read today! It's time to step up and do the work to eradicate racism. That's an abrupt start to a blog post, but it's also the truth and one that we shouldn't ignore any longer.

#Black Lives Matter #Books #List #Novels #Reading #Recommendations

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tessatechaitea · 8 years ago

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Detective Comics #957

Let's all read a bad comic! Let's all read a bad comic! Let's all read a bad comic! And curse James Tynion V!

This right here is at the heart of what's wrong with the modern age of comic books. Superheroes are supposed to be inspiring! They're supposed to save people. Fuck this cynical bullshit where dozens of people die while the hero saves the day after which their relatives become super villains and blame the heroes. Then they attack the heroes and keep the cycle going because writers are lazy and/or think they're being clever by questioning things like "What if Superman had to fight in the real world instead of a stupid made-up world where he saves the day and makes people happy and causes readers to feel better about their lives and the world around them through the hope and inspiration of their actions?"

If I hadn't read so many James Tynion IV stories in which Batman was portrayed as being wrong while his youthful sidekicks all knew what was right and how to do things better, I might just think, "Spoiler will surely learn a lesson here! At the end, she'll be thinking Batman is the bee's knees!" But I'm fairly certain this will end with Spoiler proving something to Batman while Batman eats crow and admits he could probably be a better person. Because that's what the Patriarchy should be doing, right?! Shutting up and listening! Although I don't know how they can shut up and just listen if the shit they have to listen to is akin to the shit coming out of Spoiler's mouth in this comic book. By declaring she's no longer a superhero, Spoiler decides that her way is better and it'll allow her to save people from becoming innocent victims of Batman's war on crime. After Spoiler Narration Boxes her speech to whomever the fuck she's speaking, it's time for Wrath to do the same thing! He's also going to explain how Gotham City works and he's going to agree a bit with Spoiler. He agrees that the first thing you have to do as a super villain is to defeat Batman. You can come up with a criminal plan after that! Wrath is the anti-Batman. He's usually used in Batman comic books to show what Batman could have become if he allowed himself to use the tragedy in his life as an excuse. I bet this time he'll be used to show that there isn't really any difference between Wrath and Batman at all! Even as I was typing that, I was thinking, "Don't type that! That's such a stupid conclusion to make! There's not way even James Tynion IV would write that story!"

You mean you attempt to solve the hardest problem first and then you spend the next few years in Arkham Asylum wondering why you just didn't rob a bank on Staten Island.

At the beginning of the Wrath scene, he kills one of his own men. Later, he threatens to kill one at random for every minute they go over a deadline he gives them. Who would work for this asshole? The pay and benefits must be unfathomably generous!

So you constantly lose? Because there's no way you got through the level of Arkham Asylum that I grew bored with and quit because you have to be stealthy or you start over! And I'm fairly certain some levels of Thief, even when playing on the "Oops! I've been noticed and have to now murder an entire castle full of guards!" difficulty still forces you to be stealthy on some levels.

That previous caption was where I exceeded my "This comic isn't too bad!" threshold and decided I needed to vent. Spoiler continues to mention how so many innocents got hurt due to Batman and his Bat-Family stopping crime. She thinks (or Narration Boxes, actually), "Who's there to stop my friends when they go too far?" Um, you could be, you coward. She continues, "To say how many losses are acceptable?" Have you met Batman? Zero losses are acceptable! I mean, you know, in Bat-Theory! If anybody dies, it's not because Batman did something that caused their death. It's because somebody else did something that caused their death and Batman wasn't able to save them. I suppose in the world I described earlier where lazy writers only ever have villains attack Batman directly, you can, if you want to be a dick about it, put the blame on Batman. But once more: that's not Batman's fault! It's the fault of shitty writers! Spoiler's conclusion is that super heroes brought about super problems. Fuck you, you idiot. This is the worst hot take in comic books and it has continued to hang around for decades. Writers who continue to use this trope should be shunned from the comic book community. Spoiler is all, "I'm going to use my super training to prove that Gotham doesn't need superheroes!" And Batman will, hopefully, be all, "Fuck you, dummy!" The last story arc was to show that Cassandra was better than Batman. This one is to show that Spoiler is better than Batman. How is she better? I'm not exactly sure since she takes out Wrath pretty much exactly how Batman would have taken him out. I mean, if Batman were being written by somebody who didn't have a grudge against the Patriarchy. I mean Batman! I suppose Tynion's Batman would have exploded all of the walls and toppled the building with his raging hard-on to battle Wrath and all of the hostages would have died. Afterward, Batman would have been all, "It's a shame that Wrath killed so many and it wasn't my fault at all! I had to stop him by any means necessary!" Which totally isn't a Batman thing to do so I don't actually know how Spoiler thinks her version of stopping Wrath was better than the way Batman, being written honestly, would have done it. Spoiler's entirely plan is to save the day and let the police take the credit. So she's trusting that the police will be dishonest bastards who lie about their jobs? That's a great message! Anyway, she somehow thinks that if super villains think the cops are stopping all the crime, they won't want to do crime anymore! Especially since — thanks, again, to the lazy writers — all they actually want to do is beat up super heroes. She'll see how stupid her plan is when super villains continue to do whatever they want (even more so!) when they think all the heroes have left Gotham. Anarchy shows up at the end to be all, "That was great! What a great idea! This story wasn't stupid at all! Spoiler isn't a terrible character with stupid thoughts after all!" That's when I throw up. The end!

#Detective Comics #DC Comics #James Tynion IV #Christopher Sebela #Carmen Carnero #Karl STory #Richard Friend #Javier Mena

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funface2 · 5 years ago

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Friends: 10 Ross Memes That Are Too Hilarious For Words – Screen Rant

This September marks 25 years since the iconic sitcom Friends first aired. Everyone who loved it has a special place in their hearts for the characters, whether it’s Monica’s cleanliness, Rachel’s fashion sense, or Joey’s confidence. Monica’s brother Ross Geller has come under fire lately as we become more educated about toxic masculinity, but in terms of character development, his bad behavior is an interesting counterpoint to how funny and caring he can be.

RELATED: Friends: 10 Joey And Chandler Memes That Are Almost Too Funny

With 236 episodes in total, the series has created a vast amount of fodder for memes. Whether you hate Ross or love Ross (Rachel? Rachel Green?) here are ten of the best Ross Geller memes that are still making people laugh.

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10 “Oh, wow!”

Meme by nuttinbutsleep

Stop bragging, okay? We’re over here drinking margaritas and trying to get through our ex-girlfriend and mother of our child dating our much hotter best friend. Let us live.

The episode when Ross tries to be okay with Joey dating Rachel has yielded hilarious meme after hilarious meme based on Drunk Ross. (We’ve got a few more on this list.) His inability to cope with the turn of events is the perfect channel for anyone who has ever been in a situation that makes them feel that weird combination of uncomfortable and jealous. Oh, wow indeed.

9 Feeling Cute…

The “feeling cute challenge” began in 2017, but really hit its peak in early 2019. The goal is to caption a photo–generally a selfie–with “Feeling cute, might x, idk.”

RELATED: 10 Shows to Watch If You Liked Friends

Of course, this is perfect for Ross. One of the ongoing struggles of Ross’s character are his one, then two, then three divorces. They are the source for a lot of jokes in the series, like when Chandler warns Ross: “If you’re not careful, you might not get married at all this year!” Since each marriage gets shorter, it makes perfect sense that season 10 Ross would be thinking he could meet someone, get engaged, get married, and get divorced by the end of the weekend.

8 The Nicolas Cage Memes

In February 2019, the internet lost its collective mind when someone put Nicolas Cage’s face onto David Schwimmer’s body and made Ross look, well, more like Ross. The Cage/Schwimmer mashup is somehow Ross intensified.

Naturally, this spawned a ton of jokes about Ross doing things that Nic Cage’s characters have done in the past. This one, clearly a National Treasure (2004) reference, seems somehow like something Ross would actually do. The obsessive science buff could probably talk himself into doing something as insane as stealing the Declaration of Independence, which is what makes this version of the meme a national treasure itself. (Sorry, had to.)

7 What is life without love?

Oh my God, are we supposed to answer him? In season ten, Ross has Joey, Rachel, and Charlie over for dinner so they can celebrate their weird romantic switches. It is an awkward but hilarious night. Drunk and slightly crazed Ross may be some of David Schwimmer’s best acting on the show.

RELATED: 10 Best Friends Guest Stars, Ranked

Ross’s long-winded attempt to define the night by the letters L-O-V-E is one of the character’s most iconic moments, and it’s having a second wind on the internet. Unsurprisingly, that speech is constantly mined for meme content, as we see here with @_anushkaadutta_’s version. Ross is right–what is life without love?

6 Marry Me Maybe

Ah yes, the song that jettisoned Carly Rae Jepsen to fame paired with another reference to Ross’s three failed marriages.

The chorus of “Call Me Maybe” is so perfect for Ross. “I just met you and this is crazy…”? If this song had come out ten years earlier, Chandler would have been using it to make fun of Ross mercilessly. We might have even got some version of this meme’s lyrics on the show. Somewhere, Ross Geller is humming it right now. Or maybe he’s singing it to Emma.

5 Breakups Are Hard

No, of course not! But I’m going to make fajitas until I am okay!

RELATED: Friends: 10 Monica Memes That Are Too Hilarious For Words

This meme by by @shivaa_mani totally captures the whole mood of Ross’s L-O-V-E speech. Of course Ross isn’t okay! How could he be? He always sort of thought he and Rachel were going to get back together, so even though he’s dating Charlie it’s a weird moment for him. And hey, we’ve all been there. We’ve all broken up with someone that we really thought it would work out with. Sure, you want them to be happy, but until you feel good about it it’s margarita o’clock.

4 We Were On a Break!

Is there a more iconic line from Friends than “We were on a break”? (Well, maybe the next meme’s is!) This repercussions of this moment last through nearly all ten seasons of Friends because Ross never really lets it go. (We were right there with Chandler when he said, “If you say that one more time I’m going to break up with you.”)

You can agree or disagree about whether or not being on a break excuses sleeping with someone else, but I think we can all agree that being on break excuses all kinds of behavior at work. Asleep? We were on a break. Loudly complaining about the copy machine? We were on a break. Walking out? We were on a break.

3 Just Pivot

In season five episode 16, “The One with the Cop,” Ross buys a new couch and refuses to pay the delivery fee. He enlists Rachel’s help, and eventually Chandler’s as well, to try to get it up a narrow and curving staircase. Ross is as determined as he’s ever been to make it work, encouraging his friends to try increasingly difficult physical and acrobatic stunts to try to get the couch upstairs. Which is what makes PIVOT a perfect parody of the Nike “Just Do It” ads.

RELATED: Friends: 10 Jokes That Everyone Completely Missed

We’re so glad @davin_flanagan made this for us to enjoy. If only we could get it poster sized and on our wall to inspire us every day.

2 PIVOT! PIVOT! PIVOT!

The ‘pivot’ moment with the couch is one of the most rewatchable moments in the entire show’s history. It is so perfectly emblematic of each one of the characters: Ross trying to force something to work that isn’t; Chandler trying to be helpful until he has to make fun of someone; and Rachel trying to move furniture while roasting Ross.

But peak Ross memes might come every hurricane season, when the US East Coast braces for potential impacts from dangerous weather over and over again. When the weather comes on, we’re all pulling a Ross and shouting “PIVOT!” at the screen.

1 What is The Matter With You?

This meme perfectly brings together two of Ross’s funniest moments–when he’s shouting “Pivot!” and when he can’t seem to punch Joey correctly in season nine. It’s true that one of the most frequent questions viewers are asking Ross throughout the series is, “What is the matter with you?” But it’s an even more relevant question when you meet someone who has never seen a single episode. How? Where did you come from? Are you an alien?

This just proves that your closest friends are the ones who can get your Friends reference and build on it.

NEXT: Friends: 7 Reasons Ross and Rachel Really Were On a Break (and 3 Reasons They Weren’t)

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