#must crawl out of my hole and post bullshit…

[bronx-bomber87]

Good Evening amazing fandom :) This was very light Chenford wise. And I'm ok with that when the main SL is really solid like last week was. Now Nyla's stuff was good. That new serial killer made my skin crawl. Could go without FBI guys being involved but get why they are. Mainly a Bailey/Balian heavy ep. Which I knew we'd have at some point given the finale.

I mean that with zero offense to anyone who loves her character or this ship. You should have eps around your favs. It's an ensemble cast after all. How it should be. They are just not my cup of tea is all. So this impressions will be shorter than usual due to that. Looks like next week will more than make up for that. Let us dive into what we did get shall we?

7x05 Till Death

This was a really smart move on Lucy's part. Going to his high school counselor. No better place to get the truth on this kid than her. She’ll have good insight. Like Tim said last week, Lucy isn't satisfied with the answer she got. This is proof of that heh I love her for it. We all know our girl isn't one to quit. Tim's answer last week did little to assuage her worry. So here we are at Ridley's H.S.

This scene explains that outfit now too. I remember people thought her being a detective was the reason. When her tik-tok came out with it the buzz about that was unreal haha But sadly tis not the case. Not disappointed with her being a T.O. at all though. Just remember the excited theorizing about it. We had nothing to go off of. So we dined on the crumbs we got for months LOL

Lucy making Seth cough up all his BS is fantastic. That’s my girl. I absolutely loved that she didn’t let him get away with it, not even for a second. She not only forced him to admit he lied, but also made him reveal the real truth behind it. I wanted to sucker punch him as he spoke. So many lies. Holy shit. They just compound when you do that my man. His reasoning is crap like I expected it to be.

That he uses half truths to get out of trouble. That's not great reasoning to explain what you've done.... It's pretty awful reasoning tbh. Also the thing is he’s lied so much now I can’t even trust that's even true. Idk how Lucy can. It's written all over her face how over his bullshit she is. Said this before she's a ten but real bad at hiding her feelings.

She is wearing them all over her sleeve this entire scene. No way he didn't sense her annoyance. Or how very done she is with him and his excuses. I mean I don't blame her. How can she train this kid without ever trusting what comes out of his mouth? Literally could lie at any given moment. Really dug himself a hole. Lucy looks so frustrated and upset. I hate this. Doesn’t even know what she wants to do with him....

Oh my Timothy, that’s quite the description of what a relationship is my love. It's almost like he has first hand experience what a healthy relationship looks like... We all know that's what he had with Lucy till he destroyed it. *sigh* He’s just a grumpasaurus cause he’s post-Lucy. He lost his constant sunshine person that made him softer.

It was self inflicted as we all know. That doesn't meant it isn't still having lasting ramifications for him due to it. Also he had a bad experience with that whole thing. So the rant makes sense and is warranted. Luna even explains why Tim is that way. I do adore her. Always sunshine and light with her kindness towards Miles. Twas nice to see.

Lucy coming to find her person always makes me happy. Suspicions confirmed. So naturally she must go find hubby. I love his ‘Uh oh.’ When she closes the door. Lucy spewing all she has on Seth to him. Expecting him to to be just as outraged as she is. Disappointed when he isn’t more upset along with her. His logic is sound though. Even if they wanted to boot him it wouldn't be a easy sell with Grey.

A man who is SO stressed about the budget and their perception to the public atm. So I get what Tim is aiming at. Doesn't make it less crappy to deal with though. I have been there in my last job. Where morally I didn’t want to keep someone. But we were so understaffed they let them stay for just that reason. Even when I objected. I hated it sfm. Every fiber of my being loathed mentoring someone who didn't deserve to be there. So I empathize with Lucy so very much with this.

Tim ‘I bounce boots for breakfast.’ Bradford Lmao I’m dying. I mean no one calls out Tim like our girl. Hot damn. I do love her for it. But of course he’s turning this into a learning moment for her. Because it's Tim. Saying it’s on her to correct it. I mean he’s not wrong… But it’s agitating nonetheless. Since he hasn't lied officially it's a moral issue and not a legal one since its not work related.

Which beyond sucks. No two ways about it. Especially since Lucy has been a good teacher to him. He's taking advantage of that wholeheartedly. He wouldn't have made it past day one with Tim. But he sees Lucy's empathy and is exploiting it. *grumble* Her smile at the end with Tim isn't without a little flirty energy I will say. I will take my crumbs in a lighter episode for them.

Then immediately after Tim leaves the problem walks himself right in. I said this last ep, every time he opens his mouth I dislike him just a little bit more. He opens his mouth and I lose patience for him. I can't imagine being in Lucy's position with Seth. If the writers intention was to have me dislike this kid they're doing a masterful job. All I see is a little weasel not worthy of Lucy's time now.

I’m 100% with Lucy not trusting him. He’s gonna have to earn back her trust ten fold. If that's even possible. I would say he gets ten percent of it back and he has to earn the other ninety. That he's lucky he even gets ten. She crushes him when he uses the excuse it's stressful. Straight up OWNS his ass. We can see him panicking to get her back on his side. But that ship has sailed good sir. Not only has it but he is very aware of it.

Man when you have Lucy Chen giving up on you. It's bad my friend. Really all Lucy can do at this point is be a good leader to him. Only way to save herself when he flames out. It’s on Seth to ‘fly right’ as he put. Been there it sucks. Nothing worse than having your trust broken by someone you’re training. Because now everything is colored by that distrust. That empathy you once had has wained quite a bit if you have any left at all. Lucy did not get an easy first rookie. phew lord.

We come to the end of the episode and it's clear Lucy has sat on this the entire day. It is our girl after all. I do love that she keeps gravitating back to Tim. Makes my heart happy. Even though she is one to make the call she still needs him by her side. Friggin adore he doesn’t hesitate to go with her to Grey. I love it sfm. Goes from grumpy to supportive in a second when he realizes she needs him.

That she has a plan in action. That really she's come to him for support not advice this time. He doesn't blink before he's at her side. Not only that but not taking at shots at her decision. Wanting to give her all the confidence by backing it. (How very far we've come with that) Lucy is looking elated he’s coming with and supporting her.

I was thinking time to boot that little schmuck. I said couple eps ago I was kind of hoping he'd wash out. Then this happened. His "cancer" is back……He literally tipped his hand twice with her in this episode. Saying when he thinks he is in trouble he does half truths. That when he is panicked and stressed that's his go to. Then all of a sudden his cancer is back that same day. How very convenient of those lab results to show up right now.

Tim's face is everything LOL He is now over this dude himself. The look they share is top notch though. Silent communication at it's finest. How can she say no when he says his “cancer “ is back? And in front of Grey who has zero idea about her suspicions. This feels like a ploy to keep himself safe. He could feel Lucy turning on him.

Could sense the tide was turning against him in the worst way so he did this. I could be wrong but this feels pretty right. Lucy holds his fate in her hand. So what better way to stay afloat than to use cancer. She can't possibly fire him now can she? Ugh. This little shit being far more of a problem than ever expected. Holy cow. I honestly expected Miles to be more of the problem but here we are....Shall be interesting to see how the pans out.

Now let's talk about the most exciting that happened which was the promo after this ep LOL Other than the little Chenford we got this ep didn't do much for me. Other than anger me against Seth lol This was a just a fillery place holder to get to this one IMO. The description alone has me amped. "The Gala" It’s Valentine’s Day, and Lieutenant Grey gives Tim and Lucy an unromantic assignment, while John and Celina track down a missing girl. Later, the team sharpens up for a charity gala where multiple relationships come to a head." Hard to believe been a year since she got her necklace. I'm not crying you are.....

Now this promo had me wishing it was next week. The promo had me all jazzed this morning. Oh my lord. Genny is back! Also Tim looks soft as butter for her in that promo. Man is transparent af. Saying how good she looks in front of people? I did say continue being this way and he is following those instructions ha To say I am excited for next week is an understatement.

Thank you to all you glorious readers. You make all the effort I put into these worth it on the days where I'm tired af and assembling these. The likes, lovely comments and reblogs make my heart happy. So never can thank you all enough for the love. Shall see you next week in 7x06 :)

~~~

Side notes-Non Chenford

Bailey sending notes to the hitman in secret. Yeah that’s not good for your marriage.....

Nice Texas has an a lovely lady at his side. Not so great she just showed up ha

PTSD for Nyla poor woman. Possible bad needle? Yikes…The stress that would give me my god.

Bailey got Jason killed holy hell....She pretty much just committed murder. She is an accessory to murder now. So that's fun for her. lol Also little anti climatic he just got offed after hunting her for months. I was more shocked he killed the girl than Jason tbh. But oh well. Least it's over early in the season.

[science-bastard]

hey not sure if you knew this but the op of that post you reblogged is an evil scientist. :/ yeah they do experiments so horrible that even god has turned its back on them. i saw a post saying they were testing the erotic potential of vivisections last week. oh and one about radioactive goop and the human skeleton. idk i just think i’d wanna know if i was following a scientist like that. :/

[amethysttribble]

AU of my own AU, inspired by this post: the Seven Sons of Feanor and their father are reborn much closer together, but not in nearly so advantageous a position. The year is 259 AC.

@blue-ink-pearls

Celegorm jerked awake, coughing and hacking. His tongue felt frozen in his mouth and there was blackness swirling in his eyes. The darkness, the cold, seeping ever closer, it clung to his sweaty skin. There were heaps of blankets on top of him and, despite the cold, he kicked them off.

Trapped, I can’t be trapped, he thought, panicky, I must fly.

But the evil thing in his dreams had ripped out his wings and he felt the wounds on his back like they were real. He felt grief for them. A sob crawled up his throat even as he heaved for breath, oh, it was was hard to breathe.

Celegorm was so cold and he had no wings. He needed fire, heat; he needed to fly! The evil thing was coming, he must-

“Cel?”

He was shaking as he looked over at little Curufin, seated next to him on the cot he, Celegorm, and Caranthir called a bed, which they shared.

“Finny,” he gasped out. He didn’t want- He couldn’t scare his baby brother. “Where- what time is it?”

Curufin had in his hands what looked like a quarter of an apple, and he was licking the juice off his fingers as he said, “Hm, morning. The bells rang for first service a while ago. But you’ve been in the fever sleep for two whole days! Mae and Maggie and even ‘Ran have been really worried, though they try to pretend they’re not.”

Two days. Celegorm should be hungry, but all he felt was a pit of nausea in his stomach. He put his head between his legs.

“Then there’s little hope old Mycah will let me keep my job.”

Maedhros had gone to a lot of trouble to get Celegorm work down at the docks; good work, too, because he was tall for his age and strong. But that job had come with strict times and rules to follow from the dock warden, Mycah, a salt old cur, who never really liked Celegorm to begin with. It was just a favor for Maedhros.

No, he wasn’t likely to be lenient.

The anger and frustration had such a clawing grip on him, Celegorm didn’t even look up when he felt a little hand touch his arm.

“It’s okay,” Curufin said, “Maggie’s been making good money, staying out all night.”

And now Maglor was walking the streets all night, singing from dusk til dawn, to make up for Celegorm’s stupid bullshit.

“Fuck,” he muttered, standing up suddenly. He threw his gross, soiled shirt and pants off and went hunting for better clothes.

With seven brothers, there was scarcely a stitch of cloth to share between them, but he managed to scrounge up some old items of Maedhros’s that were too big for Maglor; they were waiting for Celegorm to grow into them and repair them then, which was probably still a few years off, but they would do for now. Too long and wide and riddled with holes, but Celegorm really didn’t care.

Not right now.

“‘Suppose they’re both still at work,” he snapped as he tied a piece of rope around his waist like a belt.

“Aye,” Curufin’s tiny voice piped up, much meeker than before. Celegorm looked down at him as the boy- just seven- came closer.

He was looking at his feet when he said, “You’re better now. Right?”

The cold was still wrapped around his bones, but Celegorm said, “‘Course. Where ‘Ran and the little’uns?”

Curufin looked skeptical, but did perk up a little as he said, “Watchin’ the twins. I’m supposed to watch you!”

Celegorm ruffled his hair.

“You did a good job. Come on. Let’s you and I get some air. This room is foul.”

Forcefully, Celegorm grabbed one of Finny’s sticky hands. He was met with no resistance as he dragged his little brother out the bedroom all seven of them shared and into the rest of the house. As reported, Caranthir was seated at the table with Amrod and Amras, trying to play cards with them. How did you play cards with three year olds?

“You’re awake!” Caranthir squeaked when he saw them, grin massive. Amrod and Amras gave happy cries as well, but Celegorm didn’t stop to really greet them. He was too filled with shame and anger to let his brothers be kind.

“We’re going to the Sept,” he said, walking right past them, “be home soon.”

“Ah, but, Cel-“

He was gone before Caranthir could finish his protest. He didn’t feel too bad about abandoning Caranthir with the twins, not like he used to when he first started working all day. Caranthir had just turned ten then, forced to look after the two year old twins and six year old Curufin, but without Father, there really hadn’t been any other options.

Oh, Father… he would have been able to help Celegorm understand the dreams.

But Father was gone, and so was the life they used to live on the Street of Steel. They were in Flea Bottom now, the place the people who killed Father- if you can’t prove that, you best not be repeating it, Mae would always say, but Maggie would say, be smarter and more patient- said they belonged, Feanor’s gaggle of whore’s sons.

Gathered from six different mothers, all different brothels, if a woman asked him, ‘please take my son’, he did. No questions were asked about the real father. Their Father was very kind, and perhaps overly confident.

Seven sons just meant seven orphans, now. Maedhros did his best, but…

Make their lives easier, Celegorm thought, eyeing a burning pit that someone was cooking over, throw yourself on the flames.

He tightened his grip on Curufin’s hand and kept walking.

Their journey up Visenya’s hill was silent and felt tense enough to snap Celegorm in half. But his breathing eased once the Great Sept of Baelor came into view. The bells had just started ringing for noon service.

“Do we have to pray?” Curufin whined.

“Yes.”

The went inside and the smell of incense finally warmed Celegorm up somewhat. Started to melt the ice of his bones. The beautiful rainbow lights chased away the darkness. Here, he did not need to be scared that he couldn’t fly. The Seven would protect him.

Celegorm let Curufin go finally as he took a second to stand in the middle of the Sept and just breathe. His brother wandered off to the statue of the Smith, as he always did. Celegorm wasn’t nearly so partial to one aspect of the Seven but today…

Today he knelt in front of the Maiden.

He clasped his hands together and dug his nails into his skin and squeezed his eyes shut so hard that tears sprung to the corners of them.

Please, he thought, please protect my little brothers. Please tell me you’re looking. You see, right? It’s coming. I don’t know when it’s coming, they might not be children anymore, but please. Please keep this summer lush for a while longer. Please take care of us when the bad thing comes. Please cure of me whatever’s wrong with me. Please, please, please-

Eventually, he had no more words to beg with and started to recite every prayer he knew.

When he came up for air, much later, his knees ached and he was glad of it. Celegorm felt that if he hurt, the Maiden might see him more clearly. His words might be louder.

He kissed the statues robes before backing away.

Curufin was no longer praying to the Smith, but that was to be expected. He hadn’t gone far, though, no, he was talking to the septon who was equally partial to the Smith and thus always kind to eager Finny.

“An, young Celegorm,” the Brother said as he approached them, smiling, “Curufin was just telling me you have been ill and that is why we have not seen you recently. Is there anything we can do to help?”

The idea of admiting his horrid fever dreams to the blessed septon made Celegorm choke up with fear and revulsion and shame, so he shook his head.

He just held out his hand for Curufin to take, which his brother dutifully did.

“No, Septon, but thank you. I’m much better now. But, ah, if you hear anyone praying for a new worker who is strong…?”

“Ah,” the Septon said with a slight laugh, “yes, I see. Well, I’m sure the Seven will guide some soul here to receive precisely that sort of help.”

He winked, and it made Celegorm smile slightly.

He said his thanks again and made Curufin say his, then they bid their farewells. They started to walk home, and as they went, Curufin swung their joined hands.

Once they reached the bottom of the hill, Curufin said, “Happy Nameday, by the way.”

“What?”

“Your nameday, it was yesterday. You’re four and ten, now.”

“Oh,” Celegorm muttered. He didn’t feel four and teen. He felt like, whenever he dreamed, he lived decades in seconds. Thousands of years of waiting as the darkness and cold crawled closer, breathless with dread, helpless to stop it as his wings were ripped out time and time again. “Is that why you had an apple?”

Curufin grinned at him guiltily.

“Mae bought it for you, but he said ‘Ran, the babies, and I could share before it went bad.”

“Mae is smart,” Celegorm sighed.

“I thought you’d be mad,” Curufin said.

“I’m not mad.”

“I wish you were. The fever sleeps are making you too sad. You used to get mad.”

He did, didn’t he? But that was then and this was now. The night those jealous murderers burned the forge they called their home down changed a lot of things.

That was the first night he had one of his dreams.

“Yeah, well,” Celegorm muttered, “maybe I’m just more mature now, being four and ten.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh!”

Celegorm laughed. He squeezed Curufin’s hand and laughed through the exhaustion, thankful to the Maiden that at least he had such a silly little brother to lighten his spirits.

“Sure whatever you say,” he said, sticking his tongue out. “Do you know where Maggie is singing today? We can go bother him.”

With a wicked grin, Curufin pulled his hand from Celegorm’s and took off running. He ran after him.

Elsewhere, Summerhall burned.

[thecleverdame]

Control and Release - 31

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: After the rest of the staff is caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester. As the arrangement becomes more defined, you and Sam begin a sexual adventure with dangerous consequences.  

Warnings: Dom/Sub, humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, cum play, fingering, anal play, orgasm control, nipple clamps, dub-con, breath play.

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Parts 1-39 are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories, including Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

“These are all my dirty secrets?” You look in trepidation at the folder on the table in front of you.

 It’s thicker than anticipated. 

“Everyone one of them.” Charlie is a perky, energetic redhead that’s the exact opposite of what you expected. Sam’s talked about her like she’s Sherlock Holmes, and to be honest you assumed she was a man. “Or least what I could dig up. I can confidently say that if I couldn’t find it, no one else will either.” 

Glancing at Sam you open the cover and scan over the top page. It’s a basic list of your personal details, where you’ve lived, who you’ve dated. 

“Is there anything we should be concerned about?” Sam asks. He slides his arm over the back of the couch behind you. 

Charlie hesitates, looking at Sam and then speaks to you. 

“Are you comfortable doing this with him here? I mean, it can get real weird real quick for both of you.” 

“I can leave if you want,”  Sam offers. 

“No.” You swallow the urge to take him up on the offer. “No secrets, right? This is my life.”

“Okay.” Charlie opens her laptop. “There was a polaroid of you in your underwear at a party in your senior year of high school. But we had it taken off Facebook and I was able to purchase the original.”

“It was on Facebook?” You’re both horrified and impressed. You had no idea “How did you even find it?”

“It’s what I do,” she chirps, already moving on. “You’re pretty boring compared to the people I usually investigate. No DUIs or cheating. But you did date a man named Jasper.”

“Oh Jesus.” You want to crawl under the table. Your time with Jasper wasn’t as much a traditional relationship as a hook-up that lasted a year. He never came close to what you and Sam enjoy together, it was all about sex. “I’m sorry.” You turn to Sam who’s throwing you a terrifying, forced smile. 

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs, a hand slipping over your thigh and wedging between your legs. 

“Did you make a sex tape with him?” Charlie asks and you choke on your own spit. 

“No, I mean, I don’t think we ever…”

“Is there a chance he recorded you without your knowledge?”

“Maybe.” You search your memory. Everything from that time is hazy, the two of you drank a lot. “I mean, I don’t know. You think he recorded me?”

“I think he has something.” Charlie’s attention switches to Sam and she morphs into all-business mode. “He was interested in why I was asking questions. When I made an initial offer for any videos or pictures he might have he acted like he had something. But I think he realized it was valuable and kicked me out of his apartment.”

“You offered the maximum?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah, he didn’t go for it.”

“Double it and see what he does.”

“Got it.” She stops to make a note.

“He has a sex tape with me in it?” You’re not past this yet. You look to Sam who’s unreadable. “I had no idea. I mean I eventually realized he was a creep but I never thought he would do something like that. What if he posts it?”

“Don’t worry,” he nods, sliding a hand over your knee. “I’ll handle it.”

“Other than Jasper, you and Sam are actually the biggest potential issue. I read Cole’s report. It’s concerning despite your prior relationship. If the wrong person got a copy of his written complaint it would be damaging. I think you can expect the real story to revolve around the fact that Sam intervened when a mad man was shooting up the office. You can choose how you want to spin that. If you decide you want some heroic meet-cute to be the official story then I can erase any trace of your relationship before the shooting happened. If you want me to leave some crumbs confirming you were together prior, I can do that to. And if you want a lid on the whole thing, no problem.”

“People will care?” you ask. 

“Oh, for sure.” She chuckles, looking at you like you’re a moron. “Sam’s personal life has been a lockbox. You’re the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to him.”

“Wonderful.” This would all be so much easier if he wasn’t so well off. If he hadn’t been quite as successful all these precautions could be avoided. 

“Just tell me what kind of story you want out there and I’ll start planting the seeds.” She grins at Sam with a warm familiarity. Few people interact with him this easily. There must be quite a back story. 

“We’ll talk about it,” Sam answers for you, shifting in his seat. “Anything else?”

“That’s all for her.”

“You have my background as well?”

“I do.” She pulls a thinner file from her bag and you look at him in surprise. 

“She did one on you too?”

“Charlie has been the keeper of my secrets for a decade. She makes sure any possible indiscretions stayed buried,” Sam explains. 

Charlie is looking between you and Sam, asking a silent question. 

“You can say whatever you need to in front of her.” Sam turns to you. “You can leave if you feel uncomfortable.” 

You find yourself suddenly nervous. Sam’s past is largely a mystery and you’re not sure if you want to know. Were there others before you? 

“The woman you had a financial arrangement with is not a problem. It’s Madison I’m concerned about.”

Financial arrangement? That piques your interest but the conversation moves on. 

“It’s been years. You don’t think she’s gotten past it?” Sam shifts beside you, betraying his discomfort for the entire situation. He’s rarely visibly distressed but there’s no covering this up. His reaction may be subtle but it’s there. 

“She still Googles you once a week.” Charlie turns her computer toward Sam. You don’t understand you’re looking at, but he seems to. Sam takes interest in something on the screen and you feel him stiffen beside you. “She’s living in Boston again?”

“She moved back last year,” Charlie confirms. 

“You didn’t tell me.” Sam’s tone shifts to his trademark disapproval but it doesn’t seem to phase the perky redhead.

“I update when I think there’s a concern. This wasn’t a red flag for me. She’s from Boston. Her father is sick. She got a good job at a tech firm. It looks to me like she came home to be near her family...or...”

“Or?” Sam asks. 

“Or she came back to be close to you. It’s hard to tell with her. Madison has always been a wild card. You know how to pick ‘em.” Her eyes dart to you, offering an apologetic grin. “Present company excluded.”  

You just sit there taking in these new tidbits of information. A trail of breadcrumbs that lead to the story that was Sam’s life before you. 

“Do you think she would try to hurt Sam?” you ask and two pairs of eyes look at each other before turning to you. “Or me?”

“She’s not that kind of crazy,” Charlie assures you. “But she would love to embarrass Sam. Make things hard for him. She’s still pissed he cut her off.” 

“I see.” You sit back as they continue talking details. You’ll have questions for him later but right now your mind is swirling. Your ex hook-up has a possible homemade sex tape of you doing God knows what, and Sam apparently hired a hooker.

“And what about Dean and my father?” Sam squeezes your knee, bringing you to attention. 

“What about them?” You lean forward with interest. 

“They’re hard to track.” Charlie closes her computer and sits back. There’s no documentation of this inquiry. Nothing to tie either of them to the wanted Winchesters. 

“That can’t surprise you.” Sam nods. “But you’re good.”

“Yes, I am.” She offers a little bow of her head. “I had to track the weird to find them.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“They like the crazy stuff, ghosts, and monsters. So I kept an eye out for any weird happenings. Some lady in New Jersey claimed a sewer monster stole her baby. And you’ll never guess who popped up in town at some shitty motel the next day.”

Taking out her phone she pulls up a photo and holds it out for you and Sam to see. It’s a grainy security camera shot of Dean with a baseball cap pulled over his face. 

“When was this?” Sam inquires. 

“Six weeks ago. Your brother is staying along the eastern seaboard. Investigating paranormal bullshit in Vermont, Maine, Connecticut. Occasionally he’ll pop up in the midwest, but for the most part, he’s staying close.” 

“To me.” Sam’s not asking, he already knows. 

“Yeah, that would be my guess. I did a sweep of your office buildings, homes and so on. I found a digital hole in your home security cameras. Someone created a backdoor into the system so they could have unfettered access.”

“He’s watching us?” Dean’s been on your mind ever since the encounter in the kitchen over a year ago. But now it seems your concerns were in fact warranted. 

“Maybe,” she continues. “It’s hard to tell with him. He might be watching. Maybe he’s visiting, editing the footage to cover his tracks. Or maybe it’s not Dean at all.”

“Who else would it be?” you ask, afraid of the answer. “FBI?”

“My father,” Sam sighs. 

“It’s a possibility.” Charlie shrugs. “Unfortunately it’s impossible to tell what they’re up to.”

“What’s your gut instinct?” Sam asks Charlie. 

“I think they’re keeping an eye on you...and her.” She looks you dead on. “If you want to know why your guess is as good as mine. They believe some insane stuff, Sam. End of the world, apocalypse wack-a-doo shit. They could just be trying to keep you safe. But there’s always the possibility of something else. Y/N was right to be concerned.”

“Perfect,” Sam laughs dryly, rolling his eyes. “This is the last thing I need right now.”

“I liaised with your new security guy.  He knows what’s going on with your family, Madison, the whole shebang. He’s working on Y/N’s apartment and your house to seal the leaks. I’ll schedule a meeting for the three of us when you get back to Boston.”

“Sounds good.” Sam stands as Charlie collects her things and you stay seated. “Thank you for everything. As always, you’re invaluable.” 

“That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” She laughs. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“You too.” You wave her off, watching as Sam locks the door after her departure. He shoves a hand in his pocket, the two of you staring at each other in silence. 

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

“Oh, more than you wanna know.” Running a hand down your face you categorize the evening. Sex scandals, stalkers, fugitives from justice...where to start. “You paid for sex?”

“Technically, no.” Sam walks over to sit on the couch across the coffee table. 

“What does that mean?”

“It means I never fucked her.”

“Okay, but you hired a hooker?”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t have sex with her?”

“No.” His jaws ticks. He doesn’t want to answer these questions. “She sucked my dick. She allowed me to do things to her, but I never fucked her. Would you like the details?”

“Jesus,” you sigh. “No. God...fuck. And the other woman, Madison, she was your girlfriend?” 

“No. She and I had an arrangement. The same as you and I had when this started. She worked for W & S. It only lasted a few months. She became attached, somewhat obsessive. She believed we were more than our arrangement and I put an end to it.” He stares at you, still as a statue. 

“Okay.” You hate the very idea of him with someone else. The thought of another woman makes you angry, but he’s being honest, and honesty is everything so you swallow the urge to take it out on him. “What are we going to do about your family?”

“I’ll give you the details as soon as I have them,” he offers. “We’ll have increased security.”

“Good.” Racking your brain you try to make sure you’ve covered everything. “Oh! Jasper, are you sure Charlie will be able to get that video...if there is one, I mean.” 

“She has her ways and I have money. Everyone has a price. We just need to find his.”

You’re both quiet again. Things feel unsettled, awkward for the first time in a long time. And you only know one way to reset this feeling. There are times when having Sam in complete control makes you feel the safest. 

“Sam,” you start, watching him sigh in response. He’s expecting more questions. 

“Yes?” he asks, looking at you expectantly. 

“I’d like you to spank me now.” This request makes your cheeks hot with anticipation. His face morphs from controlled irritation to pure lust, eyes narrow, a grin pulling at his mouth. “With your belt.”

“Take off your clothes and lay across my lap,” he instructs, already working at his buckle. “Get the gag. We can’t have you making too much noise.” 

[simsadventures]

Don’t Go

Summary: You and Negan are a couple, ruling over the Sanctuary. What happens when your cars broke down in the middle of nowhere, and the dead start to crawl out of their holes?

Pairing: Negan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, angst, angst (I cried writing, so there’s that), zombies, death of a character

Word Count: 2107 A/N: This piece was written for the celebration of the amazing @negans-lucille-tblr Bee and her 2k followers (now almost 2.5k) #bees2kwritingchallenge, my prompt was 6: You must be once in a lifetime. (sorry for posting it so close to the deadline, dear). 

It is also the first time I’m writing for Negan, so excuse me if it isn’t that good. I’m not too far in the TWD, so any mistakes are on me and I’m sorry in advance. 

Masterlist

Time seemed to have stopped. You’ve been trying to fight off those fucking zombies for what seemed like an eternity and more were still coming. You couldn’t even remember how you got there in the first place. 

 It was dark when you left Alexandria and tried to go back to the compound when suddenly, the engine of your car made a weird noise and the car halted to a stop. It wouldn’t be too much of a problem if the other car didn’t suddenly have the exact same problem. What the actual fuck? 

 Someone must’ve implanted something in your cars while you were scavenging for resources. There wasn’t any other way. This couldn’t have been a coincidence. You cursed and look at your leader. Negan was sitting there, quietly contemplating what to do. You knew he was pissed just by the slight twitch in the right corner of his mouth. 

  You two didn’t need words. You knew each other too well to have to use such old-fashioned communication. It took you one look at him, and you knew pretty much his every thought.

 But it hasn’t always been like that between the two of you. When you appeared in front of the Sanctuary, everyone was suspicious of you. You were a small, thin woman and they were supposed to believe that you survived, on your own, for many weeks, escaping from one of the more populated cities in search for something better, safer? 

  Negan was in the front row of your non-believers. He would question you for hours, let you sleep in the tiny cell, just in case you’ve been infected or were a spy, or something like that. You were attracted to him from the very first second. You were quite positive that he was the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, apocalypse or not. The sex-appeal was just oozing out of him.

  When he finally understood that you were just good at surviving, he let you live and work for him. He would hit on you, from time to time, but nothing too extensive and you didn’t really give it a thought. You knew he had multiple wives, each more fake than the other. And you weren’t like that at all. You liked to help others, wanted to participate in any work you could find. You never wore much make-up, but with the shit hitting the fan, you abandoned any dolling up altogether and was always your natural self. No, you definitely weren’t Negan’s type. 

 But he started to give you more and more of his attention, you began to question him and his motives. “You’re just trying to get into my pants, aren’t ya, boss? Not gonna happen, go to one of your wives and leave us plebs do our job.” You smirked at him. You knew he didn’t like to be said no, and such a direct rejection was sure to cause you some trouble.

 “Aww, pretty girl. You think you can open that mouth on me, without any consequences? I’m your Saviour, you know that, right? How about you used that mouth for something better?” It was his time to smirk, and you just rolled your eyes at him. “Ain’t gonna happen and you know that, Negan. See ya tomorrow!: With which you turned around and walked away from him.

  This encounter made Negan even more interested in you. No-one had the guts to tell him no, even if it was a quick fuck. After this, Negan started to follow you like a lost puppy, trying to get you into his bed, but in the meantime, he was learning about you. He knew which Saviours pissed you off and with which you liked to spend your free time, once you’ve been accepted to this ‘holy position’. He also saw how your eyes lit up whenever you heard any music, or how you scrunched your nose adorably when you tried to not laugh too hard at something. 

 He hated himself and you for the sudden interest you woke in him. He should’ve been the strong leader, no weaknesses, but the longer he spent with you, the more he wished he could just let his walls down with you. 

 And after he gave up his wives for you, he did. He told you all about Lucille, about his previous life, about his old hobbies and other stuff he never even remember since the apocalypse started. And you did the same. You let him in, this big bad wolf, who was, however, very soft to you and you knew he’d do anything for you. You loved him, and he loved you. You were the king and queen, and nobody could overthrow the two of you.

 Negan hated that you still wanted to be a Saviour, even after agreeing to actually marry him, not that bullshit he did with his ‘ex-wives/fuck-toys’. He wanted you at home, where nothing could happen to you. But you were too stubborn for him to have even a slight chance of persuading you. So Saviour it was, and Negan kept a good eye on you, whenever you went out of the compounds. 

 So now, sitting in the damn car that just wouldn’t start, with the sun getting real low, he was on the verge of making a scene. He wanted everyone home and safe, especially you. He needed to protect you at all costs. 

 “Do you think we should walk home or stay here and try to survive the night here, in the cars?” You asked Negan quietly so that the others wouldn’t hear you. “Shit, I have no idea, doll. I want to do what’s best for everyone but right now? I have no fucking idea what that is.”

 You sighed and looked out of the window. “I think it’d be better to stay here and try to survive the night. When we don’t come in, they’ll send someone to look for us, and the cars are at least some protection.” 

  Negan nodded absent-mindedly. He knew you were right, so he hollered at the others to stay put and try and survive the night. 

 It was after about an hour that you could see the first movement outside. At first, you could see about three dead walking towards your car, but in a few minutes, there seemed to be more than twenty. You knew you had to get out of the car and fight them because they would get into the car and you’d have no chance by then. 

 You looked at Negan, who just nodded and grabbed the back of your neck to pull you into a quick kiss. “Just stay safe, doll, alright?” You rolled your eyes and pecked his lips once again. “Always, boss.” 

 You were a little reckless, Negan always told you so, because you rarely thought about all the consequences your actions could evoke. And this time was no different. You saw one of the Saviours fighting with two dead and ran to help him.

 They were strong as hell, but you managed to pull one of them from Harry and cut off his head with your blood-soaked machete. You went to high-five Harry when suddenly you heard a roar somewhere behind you, and a dead you didn’t see before launched himself onto you. He pretty much jumped at your back, and as much as you tried to fight him, you weren’t quick enough.

 You could feel searing pain shooting from your neck, and fell to the ground. In the same moment, someone killed the motherfucker. You stayed at the ground, contemplating. You didn’t want to touch your own neck, you knew all too well what you’d find there, and you weren’t ready for that reality check. 

 You knew you had to. So you closed your eyes and raised your hand to feel it. And it was there, clear as a day. A huge bite-mark was sitting at the nape of your shoulder. You shivered. There was no going back. This was it. 

 Negan saw you on the ground, and for a split second, he thought you were dead. He jumped to his feet and ran towards you, when he saw you were moving, even if ever so slightly and slowly. He huffed out a breath he didn’t know was holding and smiled. You were alright. 

 “Hey, doll, you ok?” He crunched next to you. Most of the dead seemed to be taken care of, so he didn’t need to be that alert. 

 You looked up to him, and in that second, his heart stopped. You were scared, that much was obvious, but hell, the pain in your eyes was unbearable for him. “What is it, Y/N? What happened?” 

 But you couldn’t talk. You were afraid that if you tried and explain, you would start screaming from pain and fear of the unknown. But one thing was clear to you: you wouldn’t become one of them. 

 So you just bared your neck and showed it to the love of your life. He took in a deep breath but didn’t say anything. This was as painful to him as it was to you. He couldn’t lose you, not you. He could lose the whole Sanctuary, he could live without the power and other shit. But not you. You were the light of his days. Whoever you smiled at him, he knew everything would be alright, as long as the two of you were together. This was just a bad dream, this couldn’t have been happening. 

 “I’m so sorry,” you sobbed out and collapsed into his arms, which send you both to the ground. “I was reckless again and I just-“ you couldn’t finish the sentence as another sob found its way out of your throat. 

  “Shh, doll. It’ll be alright, we’ll be alright.”

 “No we won’t, Negan, not this time, baby. You gotta do it, you gotta shoot me. Take someone’s gun and just end it.”

 He looked at you, horrified. “What? NO! I can’t possibly kill you, you lost your fucking mind, doll? You are my everything, you are my once in a lifetime, I can’t let you go.” He was now crying too. God, you hated it when he cried.

  You slightly smiled at him and wiped away the tears staining his perfect face. “I can’t turn into one of them, I just can’t. I won’t recognise you, and you’ll be forever stuck with the image of my zombie body. No, I need you to remember me like this, pretty and stubborn and yours.” 

 He shook from the sobs, leaving his body. “How can I kill the only good thing in my life, doll, huh? How am I supposed to say goodbye to you, tell me.” He was now screaming at you. You didn’t want to let go but knew it was necessary.

 You vaguely saw someone coming and putting their gun next to where you were embracing each other. Everyone must have heard you two talking, but you didn’t give a shit at that moment. This was yours and Negan’s moment, and you wouldn’t let anyone ruin it for you two. 

 “I know, I don’t wanna say goodbye either, but we have to. Look at the bright side, I’ll be waiting for you, wherever that’ll be- heaven or hell, I’ll wait for you, baby. But you gotta let me go, you gotta do what you do best, be their leader, don’t let this bring you to your knees. Big bad Negan doesn’t have a weakness, so don’t let them make me one.” 

  “You can’t be my weakness when you’re my whole world.” He knew he had to do it. He wouldn’t let anyone else touch you, so it had to be him, and that was breaking his heart. He took a deep breath and picked up the gun. It felt heavy in his hand, heavier than ever before. He started to cry again.

 “You know I love you, right? That there ain’t nobody, who can fill the void left behind you in my heart?” You smiled and kissed him. “I know, but try and be happy, before you join me, ok?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll never forget you, and I’ll never stop loving you, Y/N.” He kissed you, passionately, the kiss conveying all the emotions he couldn’t really put into words, and it made you cry even harder. 

 You gulped when you separated, and he sat down properly. You nodded at him, telling him that you were ready whenever he was. 

 He looked at you one last time, cursed all the Gods he knew for taking you away from him, closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger.

[edelwoodsouls]

all roads lead - ch.1

When his mother dies, Stiles runs away, straight into danger - only to be saved by Peter Hale. Seven years later, after burying their alpha, Stiles and Malia return home.

This is an old fic that I never published on tumblr, but now I’m finally getting around to continuing it I thought I should post it!

Word Count: 1,656 | Also on Ao3 | Other Chapters: 2, 3, 4, 5,

Chapter 1: BODY

The woods are quiet.

It's a small, almost unnoticeable fact, but to Stiles the silence is deafening. No forest should be so utterly still, without a hint of life among the trees. It's unnatural.

These woods have been empty for weeks, though, with good reason. Animals are clever that way - far more so than humans. They can sense danger, especially that of a supernatural nature.

They've managed to escape the horror that's decimated his pack - and him.

The only noises in the woods come from him and Malia, and the tarpaulin they're dragging between them. Every step of their feet echoes against the trees, every crack of twigs and rustle of leaves like an explosion to his hyper-sensitive ears. His senses haven't been this bad since his first few weeks after Peter bit him.

Malia must notice his flinches - of course she does - because her fingers slip into his, claw-ended and clarifyingly painful against his skin, squeezing in an uncertain sort of comfort. Her hand is cold to the touch, shivering with tremors that have nothing to do with temperature. He squeezes back - light, fleeting; he still doesn't trust himself - and focuses his hearing on her heartbeat. It thrums steadily, only the odd falter, and the rhythm keeps him grounded, just as it always has.

Suddenly, Malia stops. Her head lifts, sniffing the surroundings with an air of intense concentration. "Here."

Stiles nods, letting the rope gripped tightly in his white-knuckled grasp finally fall to the ground. The plastic of the tarpaulin falls back slightly, revealing the bloody fingers of a hand. He averts his eyes as quickly as he can, but not fast enough - it's imprinted on his eyelids, just like every other time he's seen his alpha since-

"Stiles." Malia interrupts his train of thought, and he shoots her thankful smile. At least, he hopes it's a smile. It probably comes out as a grimace, but he knows Malia can tell his intentions. Her hand still hasn't left his, and he never wants it to. He needs - needs the physical contact to remind himself.

It's over.

They work in silence. It's made so much harder by Stiles' need for closeness, but Malia never rejects him. He guesses she probably needs it too, not that she would ever admit it. He can feel the pack bond between them, pulsing with life, brighter than ever. It warms him from his core, adding to the comforting presence Malia exudes whenever she's near. It whispers softly to him, pack, sister, home.

Beside it is a bloody end, ragged and raw, severed in the crudest and most painful of ways. He can feel it reaching out, searching forwards towards the body in front of him, to the other half that can never reach back. Its pain is like an echo, a phantom - excruciating but elusive. Incurable.

Within an hour they've finally manage to dig seven feet down. Malia stands, tugging the tarpaulin over to the hole so they can tip the body into it more easily.

There's mud caked on his hands and under his claws, and for a moment he sees scarlet rather than brown. His chest constricts, but before he can take a gasping breath to warn Malia, she's there beside him, hands cupping his face in a remarkably human gesture. Her eyes flash that deep crystalline blue, and he feels his own flare up in response.

He hasn't seen them since it happened, but he knows they must be red.

Malia smiles sadly, shakily, and her eyes tell him what neither of them can voice out loud. Despite the body lying at their feet, both of them have had that small, secretive voice whispering at the back of their heads - maybe it's not true. Maybe it's an illusion. There's the smallest, slightest chance that Peter will come bounding through the woods any second, smelling of pack, and family, and home.

Maybe the nogitsune isn't quite finished with them.

But the scarlet in Stiles' eyes tells the truth of the story. There's no denying that the power has passed down to him. Despite Malia being Peter's daughter, there's no bitterness in her eyes - she's always said he'd make a good alpha; all of Peter's cunning and ruthlessness, but none of his cruelty. Malia is too animal, too instinctive, to lead.

The weight of authority sits on his shoulders like the world. Their pack is so small, and he likes to think they've always taken care of each other, but - still. Should he really be the keeper of this sort of power?

"You'll make a great alpha, Stiles." Malia chides, no longer looking at him, but busying herself with heaving Peter's body into the hole they've dug. She doesn't ask for Stiles help - he's not ready for that yet. "You always have been."

"You're remarkably optimistic for a girl who can find fault in Lucky Charms," He snaps back playfully. The tightness in his chest loosens.

"They're pointless and artificial and sugary."

"Exactly."

She scoffs, nudging him with her shoulder. "Whatever you say, alpha."

"Oh my god, no, please, don't do that."

"Do what, alpha?"

"Ugh," he shudders. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that, honestly."

Malia's smile fades, her eyes flickering towards the hole in the ground. "Neither of us will."

They bury the body, in silence once more, but the weight of it doesn't crush Stiles like before. He doubts it'll ever leave him really - grief never goes away, no matter what bullshit people make up about it fading over time to make themselves feel better. The death of his mother is still an open wound in his chest, closely followed by his father.

Peter - Peter was something else entirely. Family, but not. Closer than family. He feels his loss like the loss of a leg, or his eyes. As if dwelling on it too long, letting it consume him fully, could incapacitate him.

The moon, a waning crescent crawling towards shadow, rises just as Stiles places a stone atop the grave. It's flat, square-ish, and pale grey in colour. Simple, yet a statement. It's exactly what Peter would have wanted.

He carves the rune eihwaz - the symbol of their pack - into the rock with his claws, flinching at the screeching sound it makes. In the silvery wash of the slight moon the scene looks almost ethereal. Beautiful, yet tragic.

Malia's hand slips back into his, and the two of the crouch down, free hands resting on the stone that marks their alpha's grave. As they wait the clearing seems to charge with energy. By the time the moon reaches its zenith the air is alive, the wind screaming as trees bow to its will.

And they're howling. Heads thrown back to the moon, throats grating like sandpaper. The mournful sound breaks something in Stiles, and for the first time his eyes begin to blur with unshed tears.

Peter wasn't perfect - far from it - but Stiles never expected him to be, and never judged him for it. Peter was his alpha, his saviour, protector, family, friend.

The sound carries into the night long after he collapses into Malia's arms, sobs and shivers wracking his body.

~~~

They return to the flat. Where else can they go?

It seems empty and hollow without Peter. Where is the classical music Peter always played through the speakers? Where's the smell of freshly cooked breakfast-at-midnight, a staple dinner in their quaint little household?

Stiles feels like he's in a daze. Like he's there but - not. Like everything is a second out of sync, or he's seeing the world from behind diffraction glasses. The rooms of their home are cold and unfamiliar. Somewhere under the overwhelming scent of death and the metallic stink of blood is the smell of Peter, but it's so drowned by everything else that it all feels alien to him.

Malia leads him through the house wordlessly. Her grip is so gentle, yet firm. He could easily resist if he could remember how, but his mind is blank of anything. She takes him to the bathroom, helps him wash out the blood crusted in his hair, the mud jammed deep into every crevice of his hands. He scrubs so hard his skin turns raw, but it heals immediately. He wishes, not for the first time, that he didn't have rapid healing - that his skin could remain a canvas, evidence of his successful struggle to stay alive. That pain could still punish him the way he knows he deserves.

The sun is rising by the time he feels remotely more comfortable, yet Malia drags him over to the bed. This smells of Peter. Every inch of the pillows and sheets is rich with his scent, and the moment it hits his nose Stiles feels on the verge of breaking down.

But he can't - he can't. He's Malia's alpha - her brother - her strength and guide now that her father is gone. She's been strong for him this far, but now he owes it to her to do the same.

They curl up under the covers together, sharing warmth with a ghost, and it almost feels the same.

When he wakes, light is flooding through the half closed shutters, bathing him in a golden warmth. For a moment everything seems perfectly normal. But Peter - and Malia - are both missing. A whine bubbles in his throat, escaping his lips with a feral hiss.

Malia's on the other side of the room. His eyes catch sight of her the moment his gaze swings wildly around the room.

He watches her. Her shoulders are hunched, head bowed, but there's a line of tension running through her arms that catches his attention. The light of Peter's open laptop illuminates her outline.

"Malia?"

She doesn't turn, doesn't even react, and for a moment he's terrified. He counts his fingers: one, two, three...

There are ten, just as there should be.

"Peter." she says eventually, and he freezes. "He lied."

"Lied? About what?"

Finally Malia's looking at him, eyes swimming with something he can't quite identify. "Your dad, Stiles. He's still alive."

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.2.9 HALLOWEEN NIGHT/NOVEMBER 1st 5:13 AM

Warren County, Illinois

While that call did not succeed in waking up Kyndra and Zoey, the aforementioned Diego was woken up, however, by his co-worker Quinn, as he lay napping on a tattered sofa in the SuperFuel Deluxe's break room.

“Diego!”

Diego grunted.

“Diego, get up,” Quinn slapped him with a blue rag.

Diego sat up and rubbed his eye.

“Customers.” Quinn said.

Diego blinked awake. The TV was on. A man with fake looking blonde hair stood in front of a map coated with splotches of reds, oranges, and yellows.

“ Lightning strikes have been reported just about everywhere as this severe cell moves through Warren and Carpenter counties. Listen up if you are in the areas of Russelville, Haddonfield, Langdon, Tuckerville...you are under a Severe Thunderstorm Warning and Tornado Watch ‪until 7:45 am‬. Check out this picture someone posted on social media, that's softball sized hail folks...this reported by Zeke, a custodian working late ‪night tonight‬ at Smith's Grove High School, so be careful out there folks.”

Thunder struck and the lights in the shop momentarily dimmed. Customers, Diego thought, in this storm?

Diego stood up and stretched and then grabbed his Mountain Dew he had swiped from the coolers a few hours ago. Stepping into the shop, he sure enough saw some guy was talking to Quinn, standing next to an old-ass station wagon. The kind that had the wood panels on the side. The bottom was eaten away with rust. Diego was surprised the thing was even running at all, and one of the first things he noticed were the California plates. The lifeless remains of a tire lay snaked around a severely dented rim on the front passenger side. Must have hit a curb without even braking, he thought.

Quinn pulled a clipboard off the dark blue tool bench next to him and said, “We actually just had one of these die on us last week and it's back there in the yard. We can replace the tire and the rim and fix up those tie rods and struts in a jiff. You got really got lucky, because otherwise you'd be waiting at least two days for parts.”

The man's eyes grew wide, “Are you serious?! That's a miracle if I ever heard one.”

“I'll say,” Diego chimed in, “What year is this?”

“1989 Ford Country Squire” Jack Tate said proudly.

“Wow,” Diego laughed. “Quinn's right, we literally just got one of these in, the drive train fell apart in our hands, literally fell apart. But it was much more beat up than this.”

“You don't say!?” Jack put his hands on his hips.

“I couldn't help but recognize the California plates,” Diego motioned to the back of the car, dropping to one knee to examine the wheel well.

“Yep,” Jack said, rubbing his chin, “We're from a small town in Northern California, between San Jose and Sacramento. It's called Summer Glen.”

“Bet you don't get much snow there,” Diego said from under the car.

“Nope..but I bet you guys do.”

Diego appeared from under the lopsided tire with a smile, “Buckets,” he replied, “And it wreaks havoc on an undercarriage.”

“I bet it does” Jack replied.

Diego stood up and wiped his hands on his coveralls. “Well, not so much the snow,” he said, “it's the salt they salt the roads with. Eats the bottom of the car all up.”

“So what do you do?” Jack asked.

“Heated car wash,” Diego said, reaching out his hand to Quinn for the clipboard.

“I saw signs for those on the way in, all over the place up here,” Jack said, “But I saw signs but then it looked like empty parking lots.”

Quinn smiled and handed Diego the clipboard, “With steam coming up?”

“I didn't see any steam,” Jack replied.

“They're probably turned off right now.” Diego remarked, looking over the paper on the clipboard.

Quinn whistled, “Whew don't I know it. It's been hotter than a hippo with a hernia.”

“Hmmm,” Jack grunted in agreement, “Climate Change.”

Quinn hissed, “Hogwash! I don't believe that bullshit for a second.”

Jack quickly changed the subject, “Anyways—err--how do car washes help your car in the winter?”

Quinn nodded, “You drive over the jets and they hose off your undercarriage with heated water”

“That's fascinating,” Jack smiled.

“Well,” Diego sighed, “We have the parts already so we'll charge you a $90 restocking fee, that's mostly 'cuz Quinn here has to run out in the rain and slip the rim and tie-rods off the old car.”

“Aww man, that's cold,” Quinn exclaimed.

“Good news is,” Diego continued, “You really didn't tear her up all that much besides that, you knocked some things loose but we can tighten her up. The labor will cost you $400 easy,, being on the weekend now, and then $140 for the tire, $126 for the rim, taxes and disposal and you're still under a grand.”

“That's wonderful,” Jack said, placing his hands back on his hips.

“What brings you out here?” Quinn asked, “Especially in this storm.”

“My wife got a job out here, she ‪starts Monday‬ so we wanted to get out here as quick as we could....drove straight through.” Jack remarked.

“Wow,” Quinn breathed.

“I need those parts Quinn,” Diego remarked, opening the top of the tool bench and pulling out a socket wrench.

“Oh right!” Quinn smiled. He walked over to the far wall and grabbed a yellow rain coat which hung on a peg next to a Calendar, still on the month of October. A model in a bikini presided over the tenth month. “What job did your wife get out here?” He called from across the room.

“She's going to be the new Chief of Medicine at the hospital,” Jack replied, his eyes on Diego as Diego crouched back down toward the car.

“Oh she's gonna replace old man Mixter!” Quinn remarked.

Jack shrugged.

“Hurry Quinn, this guy said he's got places to be,” Diego said from under the car.

“Oh right,” Quinn said and stepped through the side door that led into a small foyer and eventually either out to the front parking lot or back into the lot.

“So your wife's a doctor eh,” Diego's voice came from under the car, “so what do you do?”

“Well I'm a doctor too,” Jack replied.

Diego emerged from the car holding a twisted piece of metal, “Really? What kind?”

“Well I'm a psychiatrist,” Jack said.

Diego slid back under the car, “A shrink huh?” He said, “You opening up an office here or something?”

“Well no,” Jack laughed, “I'm actually going to take some time off and write a book.”

Diego re-emerged with more twisted metal, “Cool,” he said, “What about?”

“Hypnosis,” Jack said matter-of-factly.

Diego cocked his head to one side, “Really? You do that shit?”

“Swear by it,” Jack replied.

There was an awkward moment of silence and then they both laughed.

🎃

Meanwhile, Ophelia Tate had purchased a small and incredibly over-priced pack of baby wipes and was giving herself the best attempt at a bath she could muster inside the surprisingly clean restroom of the SuperFuel Deluxe. After she finished, she sat on top of a toilet and took an opportunity to catch up on social media.

While she sat in the stall reading about “11 Celebrities That You Would Never Assume Were Gay”, her son Damon stepped into the Food Mart, and wiped his perfectly white sneakers on the welcome mat. An angry looking Indian man looked up as the door bells jingled and then went back to fiddling with some electronic device behind the counter. Damon's first thought was, Why does he keep all that bullet proof glass open?

He casually turned to his left, starting down an aisle chock full of every imaginable brand of potato chip or chocolate or fruity candy---browsing but not really browsing, more just wasting time. The aisle came to a dead-end at a wall of coolers full of soda and water and fruit juices. Damon stopped and caught himself staring at a row of YooHoos when he heard what sounded like a snickering to his left.

There was a small hallway to the left of the coolers, veering off next to an ATM machine. He stepped in front of the ATM machine and peered down the hallway, at once spotting the cause of the commotion. Three young boys were standing in the corner next to a door marked: UTILITY, NO TRESSPASSING. One was a freckled redheaded kid with shiny braces dressed as batman, another was a blonde haired blue eyed boy dressed like Darth Vader, and the last was a much younger looking kid with brown hair and brown eyes dressed like some kind of zombie. They were huddled together, their masks all hanging limply around their necks, crowded around a magazine featuring a hot blonde titled RED RABBIT. The cover-girl’s name was apparently Misty Dawn, and according to the cover caption, she was “Back and Ready for More Action”.

The boys caught sight of Damon and looked up startled. The freckled redhead kid's smile disappeared and his eyes grew narrow, “Hey!” He called, “What are you looking at?”

Damon was unfazed. “Looks like a couple of pervs to me,” he said, stepping toward them.

This apparently took them aback because they said nothing in retort.

“Seriously,” Damon said, pointing at the cover, “How old are you guys?”

Blonde Vader who held the magazine in his hand pressed it to his chest as if it were the most valuable thing on the earth and looked up at Damon with his mouth open. Little zombie boy took a step back. But BatFreckle was not amused. “Why don't you go Fuck Off!”

Damon frowned, “That's not very nice language. Is everyone in this town pervs like you?”

“Where are you---” little zombie started in but BatFreckle cut him off.

“Don't you know that Warren County is the home of the Rabbit-in-Red? What hole did you crawl out of freak-show?”

“Rabbit-in-what?” Damon asked and with lightning speed, snatched the magazine from Blonde Vader.

“Hey!” The wannabe Sith Lord exclaimed.

“Rabbit-In-Red Productions is the world's third largest manufacturer of pornographic media dipshit, and the company is based here in Warren County.” BatFreckle spat.

“So it is a county full of pervs,” Damon said, opening the magazine and thumbing through the pages.

“My dad said a local bunch of church folks fought Mr. Martini in court over decency laws so much, the legal fees drove the church out of business.” Blonde Vader said.

“Shi-yeah,” BatFreckle said, “That's why old man Taylor's up in his house on the hill crying like a pussy all the time.”

“Mr. Who?” Damon asked, closing the magaize and handing it back to Blonde Vader.

BatFreckle snatched it instead and flipped to the table of contents, pointing to a ‪small black‬ and white picture of a middle-aged overweight man. “Lou Martini. He's the CEO of Rabbit-in-Red nimrod, he owns half the county and is like, the richest man in Illinois outside of Chicago.”

“Where are you from?” Little zombie found his place to ask.

“My parents and I are moving here from California, we just got in tonight, got a flat tire.” Damon replied.

“California! That's cool!” Blonde Vader exclaimed.

BatFreckle rolled his eyes, “Beat it California!” He said, “We were just checking out Spitz' mom in this month's issue.”

He and Blonde Vader started laughing.

“That's not my mom!” Little zombie, who's name was obviously Spitz, whined.

“Don't lie, you know it's her!” BatFreckle teased.

Blonde Vader turned the page, and the centerfold fell out, revealing the cover-girl Misty Dawn laying on a bed of white fur naked except for a silver belly chain and and black stilettos. A paper fell out as well and fluttered almost magestically to the floor. Damon bent down and picked it up. It was a flier that featured another picture of the model. The headline read:

SEE COVER GIRL

MISTY DAWN

TUE-SUN

OCTOBER AND NOVEMBER

AT THE

RABBIT-IN-RED LOUNGE

IN

HADDONFIELD

“Look Spitz” BatFreckle said in jest, “You can see your mom's show tonight if you want.”

“It's not my mom!” Spitz whined again.

“Why don't you leave him alone?” Damon said.

“Why don't you suck my balls?” BatFreckle snapped.

“Chill out Lonnie!” Blonde Vader slapped BatFreckle's shoulder and then looked at Damon “Lonnie can be a douche sometimes, I'm Richie Marshall, this is Lonnie Elamb, and he's Spitz. Welcome to Haddonfield.”

Lonnie groused and leaned back against the wall, opening up the porn.

“Cool, my name is Damon.”

“How old are you?” Richie asked.

“17, you?”

“I just turned 12, Lonnie is 16 but he's still in 8th grade...he has to go to special classes at the Middle School.” Richie and Spitz cackled.

“I have dyslexia fuck face!” Lonnie said, throwing the RED RABBIT at his friend.

“I'm 8,” Spitz said proudly.

“What are you doing out of the house at this time of night?” Damon asked, picking up the magazine from the floor and handing it back to Richie.

“Lonnie has his drivers license now, and I just snuck out of my house.” Richie said.

“What about you?” Damon asked, turning toward Spitz.

“His mom's a whore so she leaves him alone to go out fucking for quarters!” Lonnie called.

“Stop it Lonnie! She is not!” Spitz cried.

Damon ignored him and Spitz continued, “My mom works late nights at Jamie Lee's Diner, she doesn't get home till morning. My grandma watches me but she fell asleep and I...I snuck out too.”

“We just ate there coming in,” Damon said smiling.

“My mom is Taylor,” Spitz said.

“She was our waitress.” Damon replied.

“His mom's a slut!” Lonnie called.

Spitz started to whine but Damon put an arm around him, “Why do you hang out with this asshole? Is there anything else to do in this place than look at naked chicks?”

“There's an arcade in the driver's lounge, but I don't have any quarters.” Spitz said.

“Come on,” Damon said, “Show me where it is.”

Richie tossed Lonnie the magazine to followed Damon and Spitz. Lonnie caught it, rolling his eyes, he was perfectly happy right there looking at boobs.

🎃

Damon stepped into the shop area of the SuperFuel Deluxe and shook off the rain. There he saw his dad sitting on a folding chair listening, as another man held a lamp under their family station wagon from the Jurassic era. A third man was under the car working. The man holding the lamp was droning on and on about baseball. Damon didn't really care for baseball, or any sports for that matter.

“And then the Sox brought in their reliever, that guy Stroop, and he just completely fell apart. He hit two batters and walked another, and before you knew it the bases were loaded.” Quinn was saying.

Damon walked up to his dad. “Is that so---” Jack replied, but was startled when Damon tapped him on the shoulder.

“What is it son? You're not supposed to be back here.” Jack looked up at Damon.

“There's an arcade inside and I was wondering if you had any change on you?” Damon asked.

Jack leaned to one side and pulled his wallet out, withdrawing a 20 dollar bill. “Can they make change?” He asked.

“There's a change machine,” Damon said flatly, taking the money.

“You can play all of that, what the hell, it's been a long few days,” Jack said smiling.

Damon stuffed the twenty in his front pocket and turned, “Thanks,” he said.

“Tell your mom I'm in here,” Jack called after him.

“Haven't seen her,” Damon said as he walked out, without turning.

Quinn started up again, “So you know that big Dominican for the Cubs, Agu...Agu...something.”

“Aguilar,” Diego called from under the car.

“Yeah, Aguilar,” Quinn corrected himself. “Well he steps up to the plate and first pitch...bam!”

NEXT>>

[xillveart]

Thank you so much!! ;;u;; I really appreciate it, and I hope you enjoy~

It’s a bit longer since it’s full on. 

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Under the cut~

A groan escaped your lips as you stretched, watching your lover as he flopped onto the bed in exhaustion. “Katsuki, that was the worst! I think that was the hardest villain we’ve had to catch in a long time.” Laying on his stomach, Bakugou groaned, folding his arms under his pillow to make hiding his face more comfortable.

“You got that fucking right,” he mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow. “That was such bullshit. I need a week off.” Sighing, you stripped down to nothing but a tanktop and your underwear, as Bakugou had already gotten down to just his boxers. Both of you had already showered at the hero firm, so now you were ready to just crash.

“Well, sadly we can’t take a week off.” You headed over to your lover, straddling his back and sitting down near his hips. “But maybe I can give you a massage? I owe you one, anyway.” Bakugou turned his head a bit to glance back at you. “That would be fucking amazing. I’m so damn sore.” 

Not even taking a moment longer to consider it, you ran your hands up his back with a firm grip, pressing your thumbs into his spine and along the base of his neck. A soft grunt escaping his lips, he turned his face back into the pillow. “Ah fuck, you have magic hands.” 

Smiling, you felt a bit of heat rise up into your cheeks at the praise, his grunts and groans of satisfaction only further fueling the fire. Bakugou had no idea how beautiful he was to you, how every inch of his body sent your heart racing.

Even now, when you were so exhausted you could fall asleep any second, you found yourself helplessly attracted to him as his muscles rolled beneath your hands. You loved to watch him tense as you hit a particularly sore spot, and you could just imagine his toes curling like they did when you sucked him off.

You couldn’t really believe how much rubbing him like this was turning you on. You found yourself scooting back a bit to sit more on his hips, leaning forward with your hands to press your breasts and body into his back. 

Instead of massaging, your touch became more teasing, sliding down his sides and tracing his muscles with a tender touch that made him twitch from sensitivity. Noticing the change in your touch, he looked back at you over his shoulder again, finding your lips were much closer to his face than expected. “Someone’s getting a little touchy.”

Smile a bit sly, you kissed his cheek softly, lips sneaking over to his ear. Giving it a soft nibble, you pressed your thumbs into his hips, right along the dimples of his back, your body only growing hotter as he wiggled and grunted beneath you. “Why don’t you roll over… Let me what else needs tending to.”

Sitting up from him, you allowed Bakugou some room as he followed directions, his hands coming to rest on your thighs as you sat back down on his hips. Able to feel his member pressing against his boxers, you rocked your hips against him lightly, teasing your clit again his cock. 

Leaning in, you kissed him softly before trailing your lips along his jawline, your hands sliding up his arms, squeezing and massaging as they went. You could feel his palms grow hot against your skin, another grunt escaping him as you pressed into a particularly sensitive part of his tricep. “Holy shit babe, you’re so horny I can feel how wet you are through our underwear.”

Giggling softly, you kissed and nibbled at the skin of his neck as your hands traveled down his torso, tracing the familiar form of his muscles. “It’s your fault, Katsuki… You make my pussy so wet I can’t resist.” You began to move your body down, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles along his torso. 

When you finally reached his hips, you kissed and teased his cock over the fabric of his boxer briefs, your hands working along the form with a firm grip. Bakugou hissed and dug his fingers into your hair, his hips already bucking a bit into your touch. “Ah shit!”

“Mmm,” you hummed softly, peering up at him as one hand slipped into the hole at the front, stroking him teasingly as he continued to strain against the fabric. “You’re so hard… Being trapped by these boxers must be really uncomfortable.”

“Tch, ya think?” Too impatient, he lifted his hips and promptly pushed his boxers down, his cock pressing into your cheek once it was free. Small smirk on your lips, you instantly took him into your hands, kissing and rolling your tongue around his tip. 

“Naughty boy, you’re supposed to let me do all the work.” His hand placed back onto your head and fingers tangled into your hair, you ignored the pressure he was trying to put on you, keeping up your teasing as you pleased. You wanted him rock hard and tortured, so that he would writhe beneath you while you fucked him.

Normally, Bakugou was the one to take you, but sometimes you wanted to take control. He hated to be dominated, so you never made him feel like he was, but you did love having control. You loved to make him moan, to make him cum in your mouth or in your pussy all from your own efforts. And now, with him more exhausted than you, there was no way you could pass up this opportunity to ruin him.

Straddling one of his legs, you teased him further by grinding your sex against him, letting him feel how hot and wet you were. Feeling his grip on your hair tighten, you paired this teasing with taking him fully into your mouth, bobbing your head and using your hand to stroke him with each upward movement. 

Bakugou tensed beneath you, and you could feel him straining to not buck his hips up to fuck your throat. “Oh fuck, that’s it… Ah, shit!” You increased the pleasure for him as you removed your hand, taking him as deep in as you could with every movement. Your nose touched the skin of his hips and you could feel his tip pressing hard into the back of your throat, but you were skilled and practiced enough to not gag.

It was lewd, wet, and filthy, not giving him a moments rest as you pleasured him. Though, the longer you went, the more you could feel your own body aching, and you couldn’t resist it any longer. Removing him from your mouth, you took only a moment to strip you both of your underwear, before crawling back up to straddle his hips. 

“It’s been a while since you’ve let me ride you, Katsuki.” Slowly, you began to lower yourself down onto him, slipping his cock into your hot and aching pussy. A mutual sigh of pleasure left you both as your hips met back with his, and you began to grind back and forth at a deliberately slow pace.

As his hands gripped your hips, you took a moment to strip off your shirt, being sure to give him a show as your breasts bounced with the removal. They must have been enticing, as his hands instantly traveled up, squeezing and pinching your nipples eagerly. His palms so hot, hotter than normal, and you figured for a moment that maybe all the explosions from just an hour ago was the reason for that or if he was really just that excited.

Edged on by the pleasure from him teasing your breasts, you picked up the pace, moaning and gasping freely. “Fuck your cock feels so good--” You were cut off by a sharp gasp as he gave a sharp thrust of your hips, forcing you to switch your technique and begin bouncing your body on him.

“If you feel so good, then fuck me like it does. Fuck me like the horny bitch you are.” Holding onto your hips again, he continued to guide your body, making you nearly fall forward onto him from the pleasure. Snatching onto the headboard of the bed for support, you took over the pace, loving the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you. 

He stroke every inch of you, hitting every good spot and reaching so deep inside that you felt completely breathless. Unable to resist, you leaned forward to kiss him, your body resting against his as he once again took over, thrusting up into you at a quick and rough pace.

You could feel your orgasm building rapidly, his lips and his cock driving you completely wild. Smirking against your lips, he had somehow taken full control, something you hadn’t even considered fighting. “Tell me what you are.” He growled, voice low and strained against his pleasure. You struggled to find the strength or air to speak, though you knew he would stop if you didn’t answer him. “I-I’m your h-horny bitch, Katsuki. Please make me cum!”

“Is that what you want?”

“Y-yes, I want to cum on your cock!”

As his pace quickened, you found yourself unable to hold yourself up, collapsing onto his body and hiding your face into his shoulder. Within moments, the ball that had been swelling up inside you exploded, sending waves of pleasure crashing over your body. 

Your body twitching lightly and hips grinding into his unconsciously, you could hear him groan into your ear as his thrusting stopped, digging his cock deeper into you and only prolonging the orgasm. “Fuck… You love cumming on my cock, don’t you?” A sharp slap to your ass made you squeak and you found yourself moving on him again on your own, still able to feel him so hard and begging for his own release inside you. “Y-yes, I love it--”

Sitting up, you leaned back a bit, holding onto his thighs as you began to grind your hips on him again. “But I love it even more when you cum inside me.” Bakugou cursed as he gripped back onto your thighs, his eyes on your body and the way it moved. You knew that he loved to see you like this, so drunk on the pleasure that you would do or say literally anything for him. 

You could already feel another orgasm building up within you, and when he began to buck his hips again, you knew that he was about to finish as well. Keeping your body up with your hands on his chest, you allowed him to once again ravage you, turning you into a mess of moaning, twitching flesh as you came hard, spurred on by his hot release inside you.

Energy draining like it was sucked right out of you, you collapsed onto him, your body heaving up and down with his heavy breaths. As you calmed, you soaked in the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, a smile crossing your lips. “Mm… I think we needed that.”

Bakugou scoffed, wrapping his arms around you tightly and placing a rough kiss on the top of your head. “I know I did. You’re so fucking sexy, rubbing all over me like that.” He reached down and gave your ass a few good pats, making you giggle. “Mm, I just couldn’t help it. I love you, Katsuki. That, and I just got way too turned on watching you fight and rubbing all over you.”

“I love you, too. Even though you’re a pain in the ass.”

Smiling, you sat up to kiss him softly, gently running your fingers through his hair. “You know what I think?”

“Hm?”

“I think it’s your turn to massage me.”

“Tch if I do that, I don’t think we’ll end up sleeping any time soon.”

“And…? That’s a problem?”

“It’s not. Lay your ass down, we’ll see who gives a better massage.”

[serenagaywaterford]

what was that moment when you realized 'oh, they could actually work' moment for serena and june???? i was in the middle of binging season 2 when i just went 'oh my god june and serena.' then now i'm in this spiraling hole. by the way i'm so excited for more fanfiction from you

Hmm….. That’s tough. When I started shipping them is actually different than when I convinced myself they could actually work, I suppose.

2x04.

THAT moment.

And I am aware how awful this is. Very aware – thanks, any lurking Nick fangirls, no need to let me know! I know it’s a creepy fucking scene and it’s not meant to be loving or sexy in any way whatsoever.

TOO BAD.

It was when Serena crawled into June’s bed and did this shit. But I remember mostly it was when they focused on her hand slowly moving down and I turned to my wife and said, “OH MY GOD! They’re gonna go there! WHAT IS SHE DOING?! LOOK!!!” And she told me to shut the fuck up, why do you have to make everything gay. That’s when I knew I was a goner, lol. Like, bitch, watch closer and validate my lesbian fantasies okay. OUT OF CONTEXT especially this is scene is like, “Oh, they’re together.” Sorta.

(I would also like to point out that the wifey recently (as in during S3) said, “Why exactly aren’t they fucking already?” about June/Serena and she NEVER says shit like that. Her excuse is that the show is already ridiculous enough as it is now, there’s no reason why that would be out of the realm of possibility for such a stupid show. So, not the best reasoning, lol, but even the woman who adamantly refuses to “ship” anything ever and thinks I’m an idiot every time two women are on screen together and I go “But!!! Look!!! They should be together!” thinks June and Serena just just stop the games and start banging already. I consider that the final frontier. Dear THT, if you’ve managed to convince her–the woman who despises things like this, then it’s possible.)

SO, anyway, yeah. 2x04 was when I began hating myself and wondering what was wrong in my head that I thought June/Serena would be a healthy, fun idea to get involved with. Cos, trust me, I think every single June/Serena shipper has gone through that phase of, “Holy shit, no. This is so wrong, it’s so bad, it’s so sick, how dare I? What a traitorous brain I have! I know Serena is a horrible human being and their relationship is so fucked up, so toxic, so unbalanced……. but here I am. Flopping around in the trash.” Quietly. On the dl, cos if I said anything out loud, the internet (aka the rest of THT fandom) would kill me.

And they tried, of course. Once I got some courage to be like, I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK. I SHIP THE MONSTER AND JUNE. They were very effective at first. Before I realised, I’m too old for this bullshit and it’s the fucking internet, who gives a shit what a bunch of other morons online say about me and my FICTIONAL SHIPPING PREFERENCES lmao.

But yeah

^^ my other blog, October 5, 2018. The first June/Serena post I reblogged. The next was The Creepy Scene from 2x04. So, that’s where it began.

Now, in terms of when I thought, “Hey… but, maybe… this could be an actual thing?”

Probably 2x08. I mean, in retrospect and rewatches, 2x06 is obvious. But I remember watching 2x08, especially the beginning (”we could be colleagues”/”she seems pretty fucking happy”), Serena giving June the rose, and then the end when June whispers “Serena” at the door, and going, “Hmm... This is... going in a good direction I like.” Like, of course, I didn’t want to say anything cos it seemed like it’s something fandom would crucify me for. Until I saw a few brave souls speak up. (Now every episode is gay af Serena to me.)

BUT...

I don’t think I fully embraced my trash panda reality until post-s2 however when i posted this gem.

hot take: serena joy is a big giant lesbian and just doesn’t realise it

18/07/18 | 4 NOTES

#I KNOW IT SEEMS REALLY FUCKING CRAZY BUT BEAR WITH ME #NO ACTUALLY. I DON’T FEEL LIKE EXPLAINING MYSELF. #NOBODY INTERACT LOL #NO SERIOUSLY I COULDN’T BE LESS INTERESTED IN STARTING ~~DISCOURSE~~ #INSERT THAT BUTTERFLY JPG. IS THIS A JOKE? #ONLY I KNOW.

So, nothing much has changed, heh. 

AND THEN I WENT TO AO3.

It was all over after that and I saw my tribe actually exist, in their tiny little corner of the world.

Now, am I actually convinced they could actually work as a couple? Like, in canon? Ehhhh... Not convinced tbh. Not with the way they insist on writing Serena, or June at this point. Only in headcanon for now, where Serena actually develops a spine and empathy and remorse. Like, for me, Serena MUST change, quite drastically for me to entertain it as anything but inherently fucking toxic and unhealthy (although, arguably, it could never, ever be healthy considering their past together). That’s all there is to it. So, fanfic it is since canon sucks.

[fictionz]

New Fiction 2019 - July

Kill the Irishman dir. Jonathan Hensleigh (2011)

Ray Stevenson was the best part of HBO’s Rome, but here’s he’s a broody sort of crime guy that really doesn’t work for his acting style. He’s better as a bombastic rogue. But Linda Cardellini also appears in another bummer wife role with nothing to do, and even then, it’s great to see her work. My middle school crush on her continues unabated.

Lord of War dir. Andrew Niccol (2005)

Wow, what is going on? Here’s another actor who is best at his craziest but this is another ‘brooding guy who must do the crime to survive’ type. And like above, his wife, played by Bridget Moynahan, is just another step along the crappy dude’s journey. It’s worse because Moynahan is also in John Wick, which is great, but another fucking movie with a broody murder guy whose wife is incidental. I mean, fuck all these dudes! I don’t give a shit about them. Write more interesting roles for women in the lead roles. Widows is on that path to the light.

Always Be My Maybe dir. Nahnatchka Khan (2019)

Phew, okay, here we go. I’m not a fan of romantic comedies but this one slays. Or slaps? It does the right stuff, lemme tell you. Wong and Park and great in it and the characters around them are perfect. I watched this with my mom, who may be in love with Keanu Reeves. This may be his greatest role. Maybe we both are in love with Keanu Reeves.

Toy Story 4 dir. Josh Cooley (2019)

Okay this was dark and I loved it. They dared to do the thing that the characters are in terror of since the first movie. And Bo Peep is back which, you know, kind of redeems my diatribe above since she was another woman who gets the shit end of the story for the sake of the dude lead but now she’s back to kick his ass.

Armour of God dir. Jackie Chan and Eric Tsang (1986)

Women are punching bags--literally and figuratively--for Chan’s comedy, but I don’t know, it’s very eighties. This first movie has cool action of course but really leans on side characters that aren’t that funny.

Armour of God II: Operation Condor dir. Jackie Chan (1991)

But then Chan’s like, we don’t need no buddy cop bullshit, just him and some ladies! The women who accompany Chan on his anti-Nazi crusade are still treated as sexy jokes but they get more to do and I think it’s an improvement. And yeah more crazy action and stunts.

Spider-Man: Far From Home dir. Jon Watts (2019)

I’m really glad they closed out this Marvel arc of bleak apocalypses with this movie because their best movies are always the character pieces about one of the super goofs. And it’s relatable because aren’t we all keeping a secret identity while juggling immense responsibility and trying to get the attentions of our esteemed crushes but not be too needy or showy about it? I’d like to think.

Midsommar dir. Ari Aster (2019)

Oh fuck this month took a turn right about here and really, why, why would you go to the pagan cult town where they push LSD on you? Don’t do it. Stay in the cities, but not that part of the city with, like scientologists. Florence Pugh made me very uncomfortable and I think that’s the point. I should be uncomfortable.

1922 dir. Zak Hilditch (2017)

Aw jeez and now we’re in this depression-era hellhole of rats from the walls, from the ceilings, from every which hole they can crawl through. However I appreciate that while they totally blew it with the little they give Molly Parker, her character still gets something good to do. Maybe not good. Something wicked to do.

The Book of Eli dir. The Hughes Brothers (2010)

You know this may be my anti-Catholic prejudice, but I really hoped the movie macguffin wasn’t what it turned out to be. That bummed me out. But the bleak world of washed out tones and horror was cool I guess, just not as cool as George Miller’s take on it. It reminded me of--and this is where I bring it back to Keanu--The Bad Batch, which is another horrible post-apocalyptic joint in the desert. Or the best part of Seraphim Falls when Anjelica Huston shows up. All that trippy desert survival shit. This movie falls in with that mood.

Crawl dir. Alexandre Aja (2019)

Well, for one, don’t live in Florida. The sea, she’ll take it all back real soon. But if you have to live there and survive a squad of alligators coming after you, this is a good way to show it. It gets brutal and it mostly stays in a single house, which I thought was a cool approach. Also, this director absolutely has a feet thing.

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood dir. Quentin Tarantino (2019)

Just like this guy, whose thing with feet is on full display here. But it’s something you know going into a QT movie. There are some tense moments and that good ol’ historical revision in service of revenge fantasy. It reminds me of the time when I was a kid and wrote a story about going back in time to stop MLK from being assassinated by killing Oswald. I was maybe ten. Revenge fantasies are... something. Still mulling it over. In any case, it’s an interesting look at old Hollywood and shitty white dudes. The Nice Guys does something like it.

The Farewell dir. Lulu Wang (2019)

Nope, too real, please stop. Well okay go ahead, but if you have family issues like I do, you gonna cry. Awkwafina is fuckin’ rad.

Jessica Jones - Season 3 (2019)

Closing out the month and a whole lotta stuff is this third and final season. I thought Walker was alright before but it’s great to see her build-up to who she becomes. I mean, she gets exactly what she wanted but you know how that goes. I wished they’d developed Jones more and they sort of did by the end, but they bring her back to where she starts, kinda. I suppose it being the final season means you can run with it and decide if she grew as a character or what have you. It’s crazy that they got to make these shows at all. Disney’s PG service probably won’t have anything like it.

[yooncuffs]

I’m 19. So young and yet too old.

I’m currently at this point in my life where everybody I know expects me to be at uni, studying focusing on school, getting a degree.

But I am not.

Whenever I talk about my worries, people usually either laugh at me jokingly, scoff at me, or furroe they brows whenever I say “I think my life is headed nowhere.” after I say something like that they would often say “But you’re still way too young to worry.” I know, okay.

But that’s not the case.

Yes I am young, yes I have more years ahead of me but it isn’t that easy to build yourself from nothing and to accept this reality of series hardships called life. Honestly I am forced into a situation where I needed to grow up and be there for myself when my mother died.

But I never did actually learned to stand on my own.

Instead I just learned to set aside ny feelings and emotions and just bottle them up. Because that’s how growing up was depicted around me. “You need to toughen up.”, “You’re own your own now, so stop being so emotional.”, “Those tears won’t get you anywhere.” , “There’s nothing you can do about *this* certain situation so get pass it.” those were the usual words I heard from people around me whom today disappeared and couldn’t care any less.

You might be wondering, but she must have her father with her right? Yes, yes I actually do. But the thing is my father and I had this weird relationship since I really didn’t grew up with him, he worked abroad all my life almost and just turn up like 3 years ago after my mother died and after he had been layed off from his job. And so we never really gotten any close or talked about emotions and stuff and all these things you probably talk about your parents with.

I swear when you have the chance and opportunity PLEASE DO TALK TO YOUR PARENTS, because it’s all I ever wanted but couldn’t. Don’t get me wrong I tried. I told my father that I think I’m depressed *without diagnosis yet* and I told him that maybe I should have myself checked.

YES FOLKS I WANTED TO GARNER ALL THE HELP I CAN GET BECAUSE I KNOW I AM NOT OKAY —I WAS NOT OKAY I HAVE ALWAYS HAD THESE REOCURRING THOUGHTS OF SADNESS,LONELINESS, SUICIDE and over all PESSIMISM.

But you know what he had just replied to me? “It’s all in your head.” —oof. When he said that I didn’t want to take it by heart because maybe he didn’t mean it or maybe people his age doesn’t really understand mental health as much as our generation do, because of the stuff we get through and suffer from.

So I let it pass.

My days aren’t always sad, lonely or dark. Some days I ALMOST THOUGHT I am FINALLY FINE AND BETTER. But some days like today I just feel like genuine shit. And the more I look at myself physically, my state in life, my current situation the more I sulk and just crawl back to this dark place.

HONESTLY, I will tell you this. I rarely go out of the house and interact most of my interactions are online and some at work but most are shallow *I think?* Also I am not doing anything almost literally.

I know it’s a bad habit, but the FACT THAT I CAN’T PUSH MYSELF TO DO ANYTHING and I KNOW IT IS JUST—-like how? What do I do, I try my best to find things to cheer up. I really do you don’t even know. I stan BTS, other kpop groups, try and chat with users online find friends, sometimes I try to go out and eat with a real life friend. I watch countless funny videos. I cuddle with my cats, sleep, I edit photos/videos.

But nothing seem to fill in this gaping hole I have.

NOTHING. LASTS.

It’s easier really to just hope that when I close my eyes I won’t wake-up because honestly that’s what I want a painless death.

Because a year ago I tried to hurt myself, but I couldn’t do it. I just can’t the thought just always comes up but the worst I did was just a few cuts not even that deep.

Okay, when I said earlier I have no tears left to cry, now I take that back because I know every time I walk this earth I’m always on the verge if crying and breaking down.

But I always try to hold it up, suck it up and just “TRY” to be strong.

I am so bad at many things and good at abosolutely nothing.

1. I love to write but I have never finished anything.

2. I love editing photos/videos but I don’t think it’s that remarkable to be noticed.

3. I love music but have never really did anything to learn it or be good at it.

4. I love anything related to art but then again I never really did anything to learn it or be good at it.

5. I start to do something (in general) and I don’t ever finish it.

6. I give up easily.

7. I’m not smart/ nor I have a remarkable talent(so applying for a scholarship will never be possible for me)

8. I have tried getting into theater/student govt/cheer dancing/dancing/marching band —but I gave them all up and prioritized a person instead. =BIGGEST FCKING MISTAKE.

——I could go on and on about stuff I’m bad at or hate about myself. And there’s nothing good I can basically say about me NOTHING not even how I look. Especially that I hate everything about me physically.

I feel such a fake fan/ARMY for not incorporating the Boys’ motto—Love yourself. But how can I bring myself to do so? When I’m such a mess, such a wreck.

I just. What do I —-

This post is just all the place my thoughts are just clouded I can’t.

Hmmm.

So yeah I’m 19, probably depressed but not yet clinically diagnosed. I hate myself, I have a work instead of going to school. I walk this earth questioning my existence I have I think 1-2 real friends or maybe even none. I’m not close with my father or other family members I am broke af literally FILIPINO POVERTY BROKE. I have so many abitious goals and dreams: BUT DID I EVER DO ANYTHING ABOUT THEM? Oh bitch I’m such a disappointment.

If this isn’t enough to say FML then I don’t know what is.

—-if youdo feel the same way, or anything similar or worse please do seek help, or try your best to fight it.

I try to. I want to.

Is it too much to ask for?

I just wanna be normal, I want to be okay. To actually be OKAY.

(I AM CONTEMPLATING ON POSTING THIS BECAUSE I SOUND LIKE A LITTLE WHINY BITCH BUT IF YOU DO SEE THIS POST I MUST HAVE JUST CLICKED IT AND SAIS FCK IT AND IS NOW CRYING ON THE FLOOR STILL REGRETTING WHY I’M ALIVE AND ASKING THE UNIVERSE WHAT’D I DO TO DESERVE THIS BULLSHIT)

~bye

[prorevenge]

Cheat on my dad? I ruin your life.

Just to be clear I'm not sure if what I did would be more suited for petty revenge, but the results are pro I think. Also this is looooong so tl;dr at bottom. I really didn't think I'd ever have material to post here so I'm a little excited.

So a little over a week ago I caught my dad's whore wife at a hotel pool with a man I'll call Steroid Douche or SD for short. Guess what they were doing. Hint: Not swimming.

See she and SD have some history. About a year ago she left my Dad for SD. This was just a mere six months after my father married her. So my dad let her go and started the divorce stuff . Unfortunately she came crawling back to him before the divorce could happen. She claimed SD beat her, SD doesn't love her, she made a mistake! So my dum dum Dad takes her back. Now here she is only 4 months later playing tonsil hockey with SD at a hotel pool when she should be at her office working. She didn't see my husband and I, so we took some super sweet pics and slipped outta there.

I'm not going to lie. I was super pissed. I was going to send the pics off to my Dad right then and there. However hubby and I decided that there was more that could and should be done.

Now I'll try to keep this brief, but there's something I need to add. My dad has supported this women and her children for years and she is not a cheap women to have around. She has only very recently gotten herself a job. A very nice one in fact. She is actually in the process of owning about 1/3 of the business. My sisters and I have speculated that this recent success might be because of extra marital activities with the fairly wealthy recently divorced business owner, who spontaneously took my Dad's wife under his wing. Ill call the business owner BO.

Now I had no proof that she was cheating on my dad with BO, only with SD . However I figured it wouldn't hurt to reach out to BO with my findings to see how he would react. Since she was supposed to be at work, she must of called off. So I called her office.

"Hi, this is tinamoe I'm calling about [whorey wife] is BO there?"

-- I should mention my dads wife pretended to be a loving stepmom( she's not). Well that also meant pretending to have a hard but endearing relationship with me. In fact her office is plastered in pics from Facebook of myself and family. So people in her office know who i am and didn't have any issue with transferring me to BO.---

BO: Hi tinamoe, is everything ok with [whorey wife]

Me: Well kind of, it depends. How close are you really with my dad's wife?

BO: Ex-Excuse me? (He totally stammered)

Me: Nevermind. Look I'm going to be straight with you. [Whorey wife] is out with SD when she should be there working.

Silence

Me: Hello?

BO: Why should I believe you. All you've done is lie about [whorey wife]

--- ya my dads wife is a permanent victim.

Me: Ill send you some pics i took.

BO: [email address]

I send the pics and get no response.

I decide to call SDs gym, which is also my gym. There's been a pretty awful rumor going around about SD. Apparently he's been selling steroids to fellow gym members. So I told them SD tried to sell me steroids there last week (this was lie). I told them I didn't feel safe going there anymore so I'd like to cancel my membership. They asked if I was going to go to the police and file a report, I told them no that SD was prone to anger and I didnt want to risk retaliation. They understood. Membership canceled. I know this seems irrelevant but this gym takes these kind of things seriously especially when a complaint results in an end of a membership. At the very least they will be looking to cancel his membership too.

So then finally after all that I send my Dad the pics I took of his wife with a long drawn out message about support and love and whatnot.

Now to the good part. Its been a week since I saw what I saw and did what I did. Here are the results of my half assed sabotage.

Whore wife lost her job, and any chance at being a co owner. BO trashed her shit in the office and actually made a huge scene. Which lead to a pretty nasty heavily detailed review on a local Facebook rant page from a customer that was in the establishment. Our town is pretty small so a review like that can be a bit damaging, and because of the contents it really hurt whore wife's image. Someone even shared a story about her husband having an affair with my Dad's wife 3yrs ago at her last job.

Wouldn't you know it SD had rented out a locker at the gym. Since the waiver you sign to rent a locker allows the gym to open your locker whenever they feel necessary, SD ended up getting his locker searched. What they found in the locker according to the police blotter, was a freaking unregistered hand gun. So poor SD is going to prison(probley). Yeah seriously great way to bullshit myself into a win. Did I mention hes a felon? HA, you can guess how that worked out for him. Bu-bye.

My Dads wife is now living in a hotel. Between the pics, BO firing her and then SD being sent away, my dad threw her ass out. She is super upset about SD. Hysterical to be more precise.

She refuses to come see her kids who are still living with my Dad. My Dad is being civil and trying to keep everything super calm for the them. She doesn't seem to care about my Dad or the kids at all tho. She did give me a call. I let it go to voicemail. I couldn't really make out what she said, but between the shrieks and sobbing I caught "I'm going to kill you" and "you ruined my life" I might get a restraining order idk yet. I'm kinda giddy about this. My Dad will hopefully start being happier.

TL;DR: I caught my dads wife cheating. So I got her fired from her job, got her boyfriend arrested(oops), and now she holed up in hotel.

(source) (story by tinamoe)

[calliopesquill]

A Year in the Life: Chapter 21

As promised, another chapter!

I've been waiting SO LONG to be able to post this one. I swear I wrote half of it back in July, but I kept figuring out new plot stuff so I had to push it back.

I hope you like it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 21: What’s in a Name?

         “Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Lina drawled. “Look what the alebrije dragged in. What are you doing here?”

         Nell hesitated at the door. Lina was known for her acerbic personality but that delivery was much sharper than her usual repartee. “I thought I’d come by for a visit, but if you’re busy --”

         “Not particularly,” Lina said with a careless shrug, turning another page of the manuscript that she was reading. “Been a few days.”

         “It’s been… a little crazy lately.”

         “Figured now you know you’re not about to become a permanent resident you’d have better things to do than hang out in a dusty old catacomb.”

         “I happen to like dusty old catacombs,” Nell retorted. “And you’re the one who told me to do some ‘living’.”

         Yeah, to give her the excuse to leave if she wanted to. She shouldn’t have been surprised that she did. “So that’s what you’ve been doing, is it? Living it up in the Land of the Dead?”

         “Jeez, what crawled up your ass today? Yeah, it’s been a real damn party. De la Cruz was arrested last week and it’s been a constant stream of lawyers and preliminary hearing insanity and dodging reporters every-damn-where. Which has been oh, so much fun. Oh, and then Dante shows up yesterday and it turns out alebrije can carry things back and forth across the bridge, and he shows up with a letter from Miguel and the whole family about loses their minds -- “

         “Huh. Impressive. I mean I knew that, but how did the kid figure it out?”

         “ -- so you can see how it might have -- “ Nell trailed off. “Wait, what do you mean ‘you knew’?”

         “Five hundred years old, remember?” Lina said with a small smirk. “Not a lot I haven’t seen or at least heard about.”

         “Oh, well, forgive me for stating the obvious, O Great and Knowledgeable One,” Nell said with a sarcastic bow. “So why isn’t this common knowledge?”

         Lina sighed, putting down her book and giving up any pretense that she was still reading. “There’s an order to the universe, Nell. The Land of the Living and the Land of the Dead must remain separate. The other afterlives have no way to cross between worlds, so why should ours have that privilege?”

         She had a point. “Not to mention, not everyone has their own alebrije.”

         “Exactly. And those who do should not treat them like interdimensional mail carriers.”

         “Have people actually done that?”

         Lina nodded. “One of the reasons we don’t let word get out, if at all possible.”

         “We haven’t told anyone,” Nell reassured her quickly, before Lina could ask. “Figured if people didn’t know after this many centuries, there was probably a good reason.”

         Well, there was that at least. The archivist retreated back into the shelves to return the manuscript she had been reading to its proper home. After a moment she spoke again, her voice barely audible even in the silence of the stacks. “I wasn’t sure you’d be coming back here again.”

         “I wasn’t sure you wanted me too.”

         “If i didn’t, you’d know. Trust me.”

         “Well you haven’t throw me off a pyramid yet,” Nell shrugged. “Though really. I should point out that I have both jumped and fallen off the edge of the world, so that threat doesn’t really scare me like it probably should. But I wondered if it wasn’t….. Like, some kind of professional obligation.”

         Lina looked startled. “You actually thought that?”

         “Well… Most of the time, no. But...sometimes…” Nell glanced away, rolling the hem of her dress nervously between her fingers. “Sorry, I know that’s dumb. I was in a not great headspace before, and Victoria called me out on it. So I know it’s dumb. But -- “

         “Damn straight, it’s dumb.” Lina said sharply. “You know, for a smart girl, you can be really stupid sometimes.”

         “Hey,” Nell laughed. “I resemble that remark.”

         “Get this through your head: if I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t have lasted the first hour. Professional obligation be damned. Claro?”

         “Si, claro.”

         “Now, catch me up. I’ve been reshelving all of the documents that my assistants have misshelved. Tell me what happened with De la Cruz.”

         As Nell filled her in on the events of the hearing, Lina seemed annoyed but not entirely surprised. From what she’d learned from Nell, De la Cruz was a real piece of work. Of course he would attempt something like this. Twist it around so it looked like he was the injured party. And wanting to have Nell submit to a psych evaluation… Well she could understand her friend’s outrage.

         “ -- and after all that he did to Hector, that slime-licking, coal-hearted toolbag has the gall to try this bullshit!” She growled. “I wish Buttons had tossed him off the cliff instead of just into the pyramid.”

         “I think there is a precedent for that,” Lina told her. “I could probably find it in here, somewhere.”

         “Seriously? Damn, what did they do?”

         “Any number of things,” Lina told her with a shrug. “Mostly it was before I got here. Capital punishment was a pretty common thing back then, but what happens when you commit a serious crime after you’re already dead? You can’t die again, and they can’t force the living to forget you.”

         “So they actually did throw people off of the edge of the world.” Nell let out a low whistle. She was half-joking when she said Buttons should have tossed De la Cruz over the edge. Well… maybe a quarter joking. It was shocking to believe that once upon a time that was something people actually did.

         “Yeah.” She’d been lucky to avoid that fate herself. “Be interesting to see how they rule here, especially with you involved. Your case sets a precedent.”

         “Woo, lucky me.” Nell sighed.

         “Be a little complicated for them to rule on too,” Lina continued. “The act of taking the kid across the bridge could be read as attempted murder, never mind tossing him off the edge of the world. You followed of your own volition and ended up stuck here, but that never would have happened if De la Cruz hadn’t snatched the kid to begin with.”

         “That’s what the Rivera’s lawyer said,” she agreed. “I swear this is going to be a war fought on a battleground of technicalities. This whole court thing has barely started and I already wish it was over.” She wished her mother was here, not just for the comfort of having someone familiar around, but it would have been truly satisfying to set her loose on De la Cruz in the courtroom.

         “I think you’ve just described every celebrity court case ever,” Lina said, shaking her head. “Thank Tezcatlipoca that reality tv hasn’t become a big thing down here yet, or that courtroom would be crawling with cameras.”

         “The building is already crawling with reporters. I swear I saw one of them hauling around one of those daguerreotype setups. I’d hope they wouldn’t have the poor taste to actually broadcast a murder trial. Though they could do a pretty sweet version of Dancing With the Stars down here.” Nell was not a big fan of reality tv as a whole, but she was a sucker for a good dance competition show.

         “Dancing -- what?”

         “Tossing a bunch of celebrities into a ballroom dancing competition,” Nell explained. “Some of them turn out to be surprisingly good. Others are as hilariously bad as you would expect them to be.”

         “That sounds… really weird,” Lina laughed. “This is what modern people do for fun? Just watch each other do dumb things?”

         “There’s an entire subcategory of independent media dedicated to it. And like you guys didn’t do weird things for entertainment in your day,” Nell shot back with a laugh. “I realize you’re older than dirt, but entertainment hasn’t changed that much. Half of modern mainstream entertainment still consists of a bunch of men running around, trying to hit a ball into some kind of hoop or hole or net. Personally I’d rather watch a well-written fantasy adventure drama, but sadly those are in short supply.”

         “Aren’t you living a fantasy adventure drama?”

         “Yes, yes I am,” she grinned. “All I need is a sappy romantic subplot and I’m my own new favourite tv show. Oh wait. Do Hector and Imelda count?”

         “Hector and Imelda are the romantic subplot of your fantasy adventure life?”

         Nell shrugged. “We agreed I was living in a fantasy adventure drama. We never said I was the main character. Not for this arc, anyway.”

         “That’s dumb. I mean of all of the people involved in this mess, it’s your story that most closely mirrors the Hero’s Journey archetype. So if you aren’t the main character, who is?” Lina wondered, giving the girl’s head a flick in warning. “Idiot. Now you have me thinking in narrative structure. I’m never going to get these all filed now.”

         “Well if you need some help, I volunteer,” Nell offered. “Even if you just direct me where to go, it will be faster than doing it all yourself.”

         The archivist frowned. “Shouldn’t you be working or something?”

         “I’ve been at the studio for most of the day. If I paint any more my hand might just fall off.”

         Now that she mentioned it, Lina could see a few paint splatters on the girl’s hands and the front of her dress. “You sure?”

         “Sure! And after we’re done, maybe we can hang out for a bit. Drop by the house. We can compare book recommendations with Victoria.”

         Lina looked at her suspiciously. “Is this your way of trying to start a book club or something?”

         “No,” Nell laughed. “But that would be pretty cool. I mean if you already have plans for tonight we could do it another time -- “

         “It’s fine,” Lina said cutting her off. “There’s nothing going on tonight.”

         “Cool!” Nell grinned. “Alright, then! Let’s get started!”

         They finished the filing in record time, righting all of the errors that had been made by the junior archivists, and discovering a few new ones along the way. At Nell’s suggestion, Lina pulled a couple of volumes from the personal collection she kept in her office to show to Victoria.

         As they made their way up the stone steps to the lobby they passed one of Lina’s assistants, a woman of approximate middle-age dressed like she’d just walked off the set of Mad Men. “Lina! Glad I caught you. I finished those requisitions and delivered the volumes to the Transportation Department. Is there anything else on the to-do list for tonight? If not, do you mind if I step out early?”

         “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow,” Lina answered. “You go ahead.”

         “Great!” The woman smiled. “I’m meeting some friends tonight and I wanted to take a few minutes to get ready. You can, ah… join us, if you’d like?”

         “Thanks, but I’m heading out with friends too,” Lina said, unable to help her smirk at the startled expression on her assistant’s face. “See you tomorrow, Tessa.”

         “Ah...right. Ahí nos vidrios.”

         Nell waited until they had reached the top of the stairway to comment. “Geez, you could almost see the question marks floating above her head. It’s like she thinks you live in your office.”

         “I do, sometimes,” Lina admitted. “When it’s busy.” Or when she didn’t want to go home.

         “Yeah, but even introverts go out sometimes,” Nell said, shaking her head as they crossed through the lobby and out into the plaza. Unless… there was another reason she didn’t want to go out. “Does the name ‘Malinalli’ mean anything to you?” Nell asked suddenly.

         A slight stumble beside her was the only indication that she had caught her friend off-guard.

         “I haven’t heard that name in a long time,” Lina answered, her voice deliberately calm as she kept her gaze trained in front of them. “I don’t think there’s a single spirit down here who isn’t familiar with La Malinche.”

         “That’s not what I asked.”

         “They say she was a traitor.”

         “People say a lot of things,” Nell replied evenly. “It doesn’t mean they’re true. I’d like to see what they’d have done in her position.”

         Malinalli had been born the eldest child of the chieftain of Painala. After her father’s death, her mother remarried and Malinalli was sold, first to a family in Xicalango, and then to another family in Tabasco. When the conquistadors took the city, Malinalli was one of a group of twenty women that were presented in tribute. It was her intelligence and her knowledge of languages that saved her, and when the officer that she had been given to returned to Spain, she found herself under the dominion of Cortés himself. She acted as his interpreter, and was instrumental in Cortés’ dealings with the local tribal leaders, brokering agreements between the Spanish and the indigenous tribes that lead to the eventual conquest of the Aztec Empire.

         Her reputation in the modern day was mixed at best. Some saw her as the mother of Mexico. Others still viewed her as the greatest traitor the country had ever known.

         Nell had never agreed with that. “I think she was incredibly brave.”

         Lina shook her head, hands jammed uncomfortably in her pockets. “It wasn’t bravery.” For a moment she remained silent, then after another soft sigh, she spoke again. “How long have you known?”

         “A few days,” Nell shrugged. “I wasn’t totally sure, but I suspected. A female spirit who would still be remembered after five centuries, who speaks multiple languages, worked as a translator, and is on poor terms with her contemporaries. Who else could you be?”

         Lina wasn’t sure whether to applaud or cringe. “So...what now?”

         “What do you mean?”

         “Do your friends know?”

         “I don’t know why they would,” Nell replied. “Unless they worked it out on their own. They haven’t said anything about it.”

         That seemed to surprise her. “You haven’t told them.”

         “Why would I? The only reason I brought it up at all was to let you know that I know. And it’s not something we ever have to talk about again if you don’t want to. But if you ever do want to talk… Well, I’m here.”

         Lina gave her a strange, measuring look. “Why?”

         Nell faltered, rolling the hem of her dress uncertainly between her fingers. “We’re friends, right?” At least...she thought they were. “You were there for me when I needed someone. I just wanted to let you know that if you need someone, I’ll be here for you.”

         “ … thank you,” Lina said softly. It was a strange feeling, knowing that there was someone who knew who she really was. Somehow freeing and terrifying at the same time. On the one hand she didn’t have to worry about getting too comfortable and letting something incriminating slip because Nell already knew who she was. But the more she told Nell about her past, the more Nell could use to bury her. Not that she thought the girl would betray her, but it had happened before. She had been Lina Chavez for over a century. She didn’t want to have to start over again.

         The concourse was much busier at this time of day than it was when Lina usually left. Most of the time she didn’t head out until well after the sun went down, so the foot traffic was at a minimum. Her own home was only about a twenty minute walk away, a cozy Victorian-era apartment in a nearby tower. The Rivera home was somewhat farther away, so they would be taking the trolley. It was not Lina’s preferred mode of transportation. There were too many people, too close together. And there was always some idiot who insisted on trying to bounce the thing at some point during the ride.

         But as they made their way over the bridge towards the station, something large swooped down on them from above, colliding with Nell and sending her and Lina crashing into the railing, snatching the scarf right off Nell’s head.

         Nell let out a curse, taking off running after her misbehaving alebrije. “Damn it, Lady! Come back here!”

         But Lady ignored her completely, soaring on ahead with the scarf trailing almost tauntingly behind her. The crow led her charge on a merry chase through the streets, staying just out of her reach. For blocks Nell was barely able to keep pace with her, dodging and weaving between the skeletal spirits who got in her way. As Lady banked and turned into a large plaza, Nell took her chance, putting on a final burst of speed. She just managed to catch the trailing end of the scarf when her foot caught an uneven cobblestone, sending her sprawling forward to crash into another spirit, knocking them to the ground.

         “Crap! Sorry! I’m sorry.” Nell stammered, pushing herself off of them, cringing at the sight of scattered bones around her.

         “Oye, qué diablos!” They cursed as their body began to reassemble itself. They reached for the arm that had been knocked free, reattaching it before retrieving their head. “ ¡Mira hacia donde vas!”

         “Sorry,” Nell said again, glaring in irritation at Lady, who had swooped down to land on the cobblestones next to her and was innocently preening her feathers. “What the hell, Lady?”

         “Is that your alebrije? You really need to train her better.”

         “I’m kind of new to this alebrije thing. I've only been here a few weeks. She’s usually much better behaved than this, so I don’t know what came over her.” Nell pushed herself to her feet, then offered her hand. “Here, let me help you up. Are you hurt?”

         “I’m fine,” the spirit said, shooting an annoyed glare up at Nell as she adjusted her head with one yellowed hand. “Look, I know it’s tough when you’re new but -- “ She trailed off, looking stunned.

         “No excuse for bad manners,” Nell finished, shooting a pointed look at her alebrije as she took the girl’s free hand and pulled her to her feet. “Isn’t that right, Lady?”

         Lady let out a squawk that sounded suspiciously like laughter, giving a little skip on the stones before nudging her head affectionately against Nell’s knees.

         “Yes, I forgive you,” Nell laughed, pulling the scarf back over her head. “But you have to say 'sorry' to her too.”

         Lady squawked again, turning towards the woman that her charge had bowled over and giving a small head bob.

         Nell shook her head, picking up her alebrije and settling the bird on her shoulder. “Come on, you. Let’s go find Lina. And no more shenanigans, okay?” As Lady made a sound that might have been agreement, Nell turned back to the girl with a sheepish smile. “Sorry again.” And with a brief wave, disappeared into the crowd.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ And there it is! We have finally learned the secret of Lina's identity. How many of you guessed it? I know one of you did. And well done!

I'm not sure when I will have the next chapter up but I will do my best to not keep you waiting too long.

Thanks for reading!

[ediesundaywrites-blog]

Here I find myself on an absolutely beautiful Sunday afternoon. The sun is shining and all I see out my window are new flower blooms and people walking their dogs. It’s one of those scenes that feels a bit like a movie because it’s so perfect. I want to first say how much I appreciate that I am even able to observe this. But I also want to express the disappointment that comes with not being able to participate in it. There is nothing tangible preventing me from engaging in my life. And some days I do—I really do. But days like today have me asking questions I don’t really want to try to answer. I know that life is hard for all of us at certain points. We’re human and that’s par for the course. But sometimes I wish I could express, properly, to anyone what it feels like to live inside of my mind. It’s not just depression or anxiety and the like. It’s a constant nagging—something deep down inside of me—begging me to examine whether I am really living or if I’m just existing. Am I missing opportunities to feel my aliveness because I’m too busy running from the pain that we all must feel at some point? I used to be able to tell you what my dilemma was. Now I am certain that my dilemma is just myself. It’s my refusal to accept and appreciate all that I have and all that I am. From the outside looking in, I would envy myself. But being inside of myself—all I am ever trying to do is crawl out. I write these words because I know some of you feel this as well. It’s like floating in space. You’re half here and half not. You cherish the moments when you’re fully here because it feels like some sort of transcendence. You’ve momentarily escaped the patterns of thinking that don’t allow you to connect to your life. I’m 28. I never thought about what it would feel like to be 28—the only thing I did think was that things would make more sense by now. By as I learn and grow and my mind expands, things make less sense. I remember being myself five years ago. I thought I had found solid ground and that the search was over. Little did I know I had only found a rescue boat, and that eventually I would be adrift at sea again.

 Let me say that I don’t write any of this with an intention to be or sound negative. I’m really not. I’m curious. I wonder who I am supposed to be. I wonder how I am to arrive there. It’s the wondering that keeps me from the arriving, though.

 Sometimes I get very self-conscious that I’ve been so vulnerable on the internet. Especially after what happened with someone stalking me/humiliating me etc. I almost stopped entirely because I couldn’t risk that feeling again. But at the end of the day I couldn’t, because I want to contribute something of substance to this digital world that we live in. Don’t get me wrong—I don’t disdain the people who say things like “I’m proof that if you work hard enough you’ll be as happy as me!” (even though they started lightyears ahead of anyone else due to various forms of privilege).  I am genuinely happy for those people. Even the ones who didn’t have to lift a finger. I just don’t think that statements like that add anything to the dialogue or any nuance to what it means to be a human being. I think most (I can’t speak for all) read these “motivational” monologues and just feel like shit afterwards. All that it says is “you aren’t doing it right. If you do it like me then you will be happy like me.” (However, about 90% of the population CANNOT do it like you for reasons I am sure you have never considered). That’s hardly ever someone’s intention (making others feel bad), but it’s almost always the outcome. Most millennials are smart enough to logically call bullshit on this kind of… bullshit. But being able to say something is empty and meaningless on a logical level does not mean you believe it on an emotional level. Knowing and believing are different things. I’ve been playing this internet game for six years (I resisted it for a long time) and I have written manifesto after manifesto on how to avoid these traps but I woke up this morning, I felt less than great, and I got on the internet (huge mistake) and what was waiting for me drove me into a deeper hole.

 I want you all to know that I am not immune to this stuff. It makes me question myself the same way it makes you question yourself. And that’s on TOP of all of the other things going on, like what I wrote about earlier in this post and trying to find my purpose in this world, find a job with my PhD which is contingent upon my finishing my dissertation, etc. I think because of Instagram and what not some of you may look at me as different than you. And I just want to break that myth down. I am not different than you. I am exactly the same. I won’t fool you. I won’t post stories of myself having a fantastic time if inside I really feel like shit. I won’t talk about being sad if I am really just looking for attention. I won’t pretend to care about a cause I know nothing about. I am real, and I will remain real no matter how much my human insecurities beg me to portray a very different version of myself than I am. We are all so desperate to be accepted, and we get confused—we mix up our innate desire to feel accepted (which is so completely normal and okay and part of our development) with a need to be idolized and envied. This has always been a problem, but the age of the internet has made it—I think—one of the most important problems we are facing as people. We lose our authenticity, and without that, we can’t evoke any change in this world.

 It’s the same way with art. I bitched about that dilemma on my old blog (which I had to delete because of the cruel individual who decided to try to ruin everything I have worked towards for ten years). So I won’t repeat that. I have had a horribly difficult time creating during the 8 months I’ve been on my residency. I want to so badly. But it’s just not the right time, and accepting that is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. So that’s another promise—I won’t share work that I don’t believe in. I won’t post a photo because I think it fits the mold of what is popular for the current month. So you might not see me post a lot anymore, not the way I used to, and I know one of the consequences of stepping back is becoming irrelevant. And I think I’m okay with that, because I never made art for validation, I made it to make my experiences real and to share that with people who appreciate it.

 Ah, I could go on and on, but I have plans. I am letting them age like a fine wine, both because they should and because I must prove to myself that the reason I do things is not for selfish validation and the creation of an image, but to make a harsh world a softer, more forgiving place.

 You are all so lovely, continue being lovely, the end.

[yennefers-geralt]

Arya + Survival and Adaptability

Since making this post which illustrates how Arya has gone through a great deal, much of which is very similar to what Sansa survived, I’ve gotten a lot of responses both positive and negative. The negative ones criticize the post for comparing the sisters and then follow it up with comparing the sisters but in a way that props one up while bashing Arya. 

This all proves that the insistence that Arya couldn’t survive in her sister’s place, despite going through the exact same thing but without the protection of being a valuable hostage who can’t be killed on a whim, is rooted in Arya hate. Many blame the show for this, but in this case D&D are only parroting certain corners of the fandom. If people aren’t insisting that Arya is too stupid or too focused on violence to survive, they’re saying things like this:

@ladyandtheghost​ said: 

First off, everyone can have their own opinion on this. Personally, I think Sansa is right and that Arya would not have survived King’s Landing. But NOT because she is weaker or stupid (or whatever people want to interpret into Sansa’s words here) but because Arya is IMPULSIVE. That doesn’t have anything to do with stupidity, only with her direct and impulsive personality. She has a quick temper and doesn’t give a shit that she gets in trouble for it. How can people deny this when it’s one of the traits people usually love about her? Did no one pay attention to how she had to learn to control her impulsive nature in order to become an assassin in Braavos? It’s not just about blind sword fighting and wearing masks. It’s about self-control. And Arya had very little self-control when it came to Joffrey and his bullshit. And if Cersei could not prevent Joffrey from killing Ned, no one could have prevented Joffrey from killing Arya. And that’s what Sansa is referring to. Joffrey remained No 1 on Aryas death list and she would have gotten herself killed trying to kill him sooner or later if she had stayed in KL at the court like Sansa. I mean, could you imagine Arya just quietly suffering all the abuse she got from Joffrey and Cersei? Seriously? It doesn’t negate Arya’s own suffering, she had a totally different arc (which both sisters discussed ffs down in the crypts when thei reunited) but Sansa is right here in saying that the shit she had to put up with were not the kind of situation Arya would have voluntarily suffered through. The fact that she cannot understand Sansa’s point at all confirms that she would have acted very differently in KL and it would have been her death.

Secondly, I don’t get how people feel they need to compare and weigh one sister’s suffering against the other. Thank you, D&D for ruining each and every part of the fandom and for having fans that used to be halfway decent to one another now feel they need to aggressively bash the other.

Anyone who has read the novels, Arya’s chapters in particular, would be able to shoot enough holes through this to sink a ship. Usually I just suggest that people read the novels when I see such canonically incorrect character bashing or I direct them to this post on my old blog where I thoroughly discussed the issue. But it seems that parts of it need to be reposted here:

It’s true that Arya has a temper and can be impulsive, especially early on in the series. But even in AGOT, she shows that she does have self-control and isn’t guided purely by impulse. For example:

“It was the scariest thing she’d ever done. She wanted to run and hide, but she made herself walk across the yard, slowly, putting one foot in front of the other as if she had all the time in the world and no reason to be afraid of anyone. She thought she could feel their eyes, like bugs crawling on her skin under her clothes. Arya never looked up. If she saw them watching, all her courage would desert her, she knew, and she would drop the bundle of clothes and run and cry like a baby, and then they would have her. She kept her gaze on the ground.”

“It was all Arya could do not to bolt and run, but she knew that if she did, they would be after her at once. She made herself walk closer.”

In both of these situations, Arya is able to fight her natural impulses, force herself to stay calm, and thinks through the situations rationally. If she had no self-control or if she was half as wild as some claim she is, she wouldn’t have made it out of the Red Keep to begin with.

There are far more examples of Arya controlling her behavior and showing that she has self-control. I chose early examples specifically because even those who concede that Arya is able to learn to control herself usually follow it up with some variation of, “She didn’t have any self-control at all at the beginning, so she would have been killed off before she had a chance to learn!” But, as you can see, this is something she is capable of early on.

Self-control is a quality in Arya that grows through necessity during her journey. It would be the same if she were somehow taken prisoner by the Lannisters.

Common criticism: Arya doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut!

A few early examples of Arya keeping her mouth shut:

“Hot Pie took her silence to mean she was scared, or stupid, or deaf.” – ACOK

“She did not answer. It seemed safer not to talk to anyone.” – ACOK

“It mattered to her, but she chewed her lip and kept quiet, listening.” – ACOK

“By the time they marched, Arya knew she was no water dancer. Syrio Forel would never have let them knock him down and take his sword away, nor stood by when they killed Lommy Greenhands. Syrio would never have sat silent in that storehouse nor shuffled along meekly among the other captives.” – ACOK

“A broken lip taught Arya to hold her tongue.” – ACOK

“Arya dropped her gaze and said nothing.” – ACOK

This is by far not a complete list. It’s just a handful of early examples.

I’m not saying that Arya never speaks out of turn. She does. Multiple times. But she isn’t incapable of being quiet and she does learn when to hold her tongue more and more through her experiences. Sansa also shows that not staying quiet doesn’t result in immediate death. She talks back to Joffrey on a number of occasions and is still alive as of the current canon. He often had her beaten afterward. She survived and Arya has survived beatings as well.

Joffrey remained No 1 on Aryas death list and she would have gotten herself killed trying to kill him sooner or later if she had stayed in KL at the court like Sansa.

People have this image of Arya as this impulsive, blood thirsty killer. But remember that had the Lannister’s taken her prisoner, the only person she may or may not have killed at that point (depending on when they took her captive) would have been the stable boy whose death was more of an accident. Arya learns kill on the road during the battle of the holdfast, when Jaqen brings her along when they free the Northmen, and then when she kills the guard to leave Harrenhall. 

None of this would happen in an AU where she was in King’s Landing. She would be disarmed if she ever got a weapon, though she knows to hide her weapons, per canon, and is often too frightened to act during much of her captivity. If Wheeze scares Arya to the point where she doesn’t dare misbehave or try to escape when she sees her chance or even look at him the wrong way, wouldn’t her abusers in King’s Landing garner the same response, if not a worse one? She’s seen them murder her father and would undoubtedly be forced to look at his severed head. She would hate herself for not taking action, just as she hates herself in the novels, but she would know enough to control her behavior.

But anyway, the Lannisters wouldn’t kill her regardless of behavior. With Robb rebelling against the crown and holding Jaime prisoner, it was important for the Lannisters to hold onto their own hostages for bargaining and for ensuring Jaime’s safety. That is why Tyrion is disappointed when he finds out that Arya is missing. That’s why he tries so hard to have her found. The importance of finding Arya and keeping their current hostage alive is mentioned repeatedly.

“And if the gods are good, Bywater will find Arya alive, before Robb learns she’s gone missing.” – Tyrion, ACOK

“Why must I suffer accusations every time some Stark stubs his toe? This was Greyjoy’s work, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Let us hope Lady Catelyn believes that.”

Her eyes widened. “She wouldn’t-”

“-kill Jaime? Why not? What would you do if Joffrey and Tommen were murdered?”

“I still hold Sansa!” the queen declared.

“We still hold Sansa,” he corrected her, “and we had best take good care of her.” – Cersei and Tyrion, ACOK

“Tyrion glanced round the yard. “Where’s the Stark girl?”

For a moment no one answered. Finally Joffrey said, “She was riding by me. I don’t know where she went.”

Tyrion pressed blunt fingers into his throbbing temples. If Sansa Stark had come to harm, Jaime was as good as dead.” – Tyrion and Joffrey, ACOK

“One parting request. Kindly make certain no harm comes to Sansa Stark. it would not do to lose both the daughters.” – Tyrion, ACOK

The Lannisters have a vested interest in keeping Sansa alive and finding Arya. It is something even Joffrey seems to understand.

“Frowning, he lowered the crossbow. “I’d shoot you too, but if I do Mother says they’d kill my uncle Jaime.” – Joffrey, ACOK

They would have felt the same about Arya if they had found her. They would have done what they could to keep her alive. They definitely wouldn’t have killed her. Even Joff understands that they can’t kill a Stark girl in this political climate.

Before anyone tries to point out that Ned was murdered, remember that he was not a hostage. Robb hadn’t beaten the Lannisters and he hadn’t taken Jaime prisoner at that point. Besides, the books make it clear that Joff’s decision to kill him was a plot arranged beforehand, likely with Littlefinger pulling the strings. He would have no reason to arrange that sort of plot with Arya.

If you have any further “rebuttals” I suggest you read the novels and/or this post where the scenario is discussed at length.

Now, I would like to “thank” D&D for inciting this wank. It’s been wild. I don’t know why some want to bash them and then agree with them in the next breath, but here we are.

[themadnessthatis]

So, Tomb Raider: Angel of Darkness...

Warning, this is going to be a long-ass post, mostly me rambling about how TR6 was a game with good concepts but shitty execution. Expect a bit of non-linear ranting.

I have some serious Opinions™ on this game, now having finished it (which was a quasi-Herculean feat in of itself from fighting against the game the whole time, but more on that in a bit).

When I first got this game, eyes full of wonder and amazement, I was like “aw yeah, a new Tomb Raider for a new generation of consoles!”. Having only played it for a bit my opinion quickly soured, and the game was never played after having fallen down a hole and dying in the Parisian sewers. All I said to myself at the time was “wow, this game is shit,never playing this again :| .”

Which I didn’t, until recently.

Fast forward a bit, and a friend of mine lends me her PC copies of Tomb Raider 2-through-6 (sadly no copy of TR1  :’[ ), which I sat down and played, all while eyeing up the box containing AoD with animosity. Boy did I regret saying I wouldn’t mind if she lent me that one as well.

But after going through the other games with various degrees of ease, from the “wow it’s over already?” of Chronicles to the “Will it never end?” of TR3 (which I personally rate as the worst of the “old school” Tomb Raiders. Just....fuck that game, the best part of it is the credits, but I digress.), we were left with just one more game; Angel of Darkness, sitting there, almost expectantly.

“Well, it’s been a while, maybe I was just bad at the game, and it’s actually alright?” I said as I set about installing it, ready to give the game the benefit of the doubt.

Well the fact that controller setup was a pain in the arse should’ve been a dead giveaway that something was up. Though is was nowhere near as infuriating as Chronicles, which required a fucking JoyToKey configuration to get it to work smoothly, otherwise jumps would result in Lara just careening off to the side every.fucking.time.)

Actually, when you first play AoD, the controls are really the first thing you’ll pick up on. I.E: they’re the worst. Really they’re the biggest flaw of this whole game, and if they weren’t as clunky and gods-awful as they are, AoD might’ve been a much better experience. Lara controls like a fucking Mark IV from 1917; turns, speed, everything. It’s such a jarring shift from the previous installments that it really takes some time getting used to, and could be a reall deal-breaker. Also Lara no longer runs like she used to, more like a slow jog, only gaining the ability to sprint later in the game (you know, the thing she could do at the very beginning of TR3, 4 and 5? Like she has to learn how to use her legs, after all of her previous escapades?!). Jumping also seems to have undergone some hideous transformation; from somewhat fluid sequences to an absolutely jerky mess of a mechanic, not helped by Lara needing some space to build up momentum (from walk to jog). Like the only time she handles almost smoothly is when she’s swimming (which thank fuck no longer has her getting stuck on the walls and floor like she did in previous games.).

When you’re not busy fighting against the controls and some of the early Capcom-esque fixed camera angles, you might be able to notice some of the changes to the TR formula, for better or for worse.

Perhaps the most noticeable is Lara’s equipment; gone are her iconic (not Ubisoft iconic, mind you) pistols with unlimited ammo. In their place Lara can collect a plethora of new pistols, including a very nice taser. Though this is moot when Lara eventually loses all of her acquired weapons, as she is wont to do if TR1, 2 and 3 are anything to go by. You also get the classic shotgun and two SMGs. Though tbh, and this might just be me, but don’t all of the weapons in this game feel like the do the same amount of damage?

One thing that was a nice touch was the inventory revamp. The ring-like setup from previous TRs is gone, and now each type of item (health, weapons and puzzle clues) have their own inventory sections, making it less of an eyesore than the cluttered messes of the previous game’s inventories. Speaking of health, the repertoire of healing items has been increased, with various items granting various degrees of health restoration, which is nice, no more wasting medikits (though i do not understand how a chocolate bar could heal a person, but whatever, video game logic, i guess.). The puzzle clues section does get kinda cluttered though, as Lara doesn’t seem to want to get rid of anything she picks up, even if she no longer needs it, so her pockets are basically just full of security cards and bits of paper until the end of the game like JESUS CHRIST ON A STICK JUST DUMP THAT SHIT IN A BIN, LARA!”.

On the subject of puzzles, it’s great that that is an element that has carried over to AoD nicely, unlike some of the more modern titles (looking at you, Tomb Raider 2013). The Hall of Seasons was a great example of this, and is very reminiscent of the St Francis’ Folly from the original games, what with its God-themed rooms. Granted that there were other “puzzles” that were a little too obvious, like “push table to find mixture to kill giant plant”. But overall,  the puzzle side of Tomb Raider is definitely there. Although, there are no secrets to find (but after TR3 and 4′s “And your reward is FLARES” bullshit, I’m okay with that).

So, what about the story? To be perfectly honest, it’s as about as normal as a Tomb Raider story line can be: Secret sect looking for paintings so they can resurrect an ancient race of human/angel hybrids that was destroyed back in biblical times except not all of them, and Lara gets involved b/c they killed Von Croy and she was framed for it... Look, it’s certainly not as far-fetched as “Italian mafia dude looking for magic Chinese knife that turns people into dragons instead of corpses when stabbed with it.” (Love you, TR2, but what even...), or whatever the hell was going on in TR3 with its magical ancient Polynesian artifacts and “rapid evolution”, but it’s out there.

Mechanics wise, there have been some changes that are quite nice in concept, but are failed by poor execution (a running theme for this game). The grip meter is a new thing, and is influenced by Lara’s upper body strength (like how her jumping/sprinting and door-kicking are affected by her lower body strength), like a sort of RPG attribute. These body strength factors are a nice tough and could’ve been a plus in a good game, but here the attributes are given out at arbitrary moments throughout the game and feel forced, like at one moment Lara must gain an upper body strength upgrade by just shunting a pile of boxes around for no real reason. When you couple this with the sluggish momentum-based “running”, it’s almost like the developers were trying to go for a more “realistic” feel but didn’t really know how to go about it.

There’s also a certain Bioware-esque dialogue tree that pops up from time to time in the game. While it’s a nice touch, the fact that there’s no real change to the outcome (bar 3 exceptions) kind of makes the interactions pointless.

Going past the mechanics, the game itself (at least on PC), is a glitchy, buggy mess that would crash for no reason. Textures are missing, walls vanish in some of Kurtis’ (a boring, bland secondary character we get to play as, and I’ll get to him in a second.) levels for no reason, not to mention that one level can be skipped entirely thanks to a bug where Lara just has to roll into a fucking wall. Also, not certain if it’s more an exploit than it is a bug, but it’s kinda of an anticlimax that the last two bosses can be cheesed by just commando-crawling under their projectiles. The greatest menaces to humanity, outdone by toddler maneuvers .

Now, onto Kurtis...Kurtis is a member of an organisation dedicated to stomping out evil, particularly sorcery and alchemy (thus pitting him against the big baddie, Eckhardt, who looks like he just got done trying to audition for the part of Auron from Final Fantasy). He’s supposed to come across as some sort of bad boy with magical powers, but honestly he’s a boring, ugly, fucking Broody McGravelvoice with no personality. You get to play as him for all of 3 (or was it 4?) levels, and boy oh boy, you will hat him throughout all of them. Somehow, and I didn’t know it was possible, somehow he controls WORSE than Lara. He moves like he’s got a broom up his arse and jumps like he’s on the fucking moon. His levels feel like they were  some De-mastered edition of Until Dawn, full of enemies that serve no purpose other than to drain you of resources, and are capped off with the worst boss fight ever, thanks to twitchy auto-aim and Kurtis’ shoddy controls. Like fucking Mark Williard at  the end of TR3 was more feasible than this cavalcade of bullshit. Also the first time he meets Lara in the Louvre, the cut-scene is just so unsettling and creepy, she should’ve just beat his arse into the tiled floor there and then. I seriously hope he’s dead.

And the ending... What a bloody disappointment; Lara wanders off into a dark passage after killing the bigger bad, and then...nothing. No credits, no “the end” screen, the game just shits you back onto the “Press Start” screen.

But in the end, after all was said and done, I think my opinion of AoD has shifted somewhat. I don’t hate it like I thought I did, I’m just, I dunno, disappointed...This game had so many good ideas that were handled so poorly, and it certainly wasn’t helped that, at least on the PC version, it was a glitch-fest and the controls were piss-poor. And as a final insult? Jiggle physics. I’m not fucking kidding like Core Design  couldn’t iron out the bugs and do something about the arse-backwards controls, but they gotta make sure dem jiggly titties are in there? -_-’ Fucking hell what a dumpster fire of a game. Like I want to like it but the fuck-headedness of it all just, just no.