#so i get that it's easier for me than for those who are still in full hyperfixation mode

[clockwayswrites]

Fresh Birb! Part 32

masterpost

“Thanks for the excuse to get some fresh air,” Danny said. He sounded grateful enough that Jason felt a little bad for using the ‘stroll around the yard’ as an way to gather some intel.

“Hey, trust me, I get how overwhelming the manor can get,” Jason said, “and there are a lot of us in house right now. It’s easier in small doses for sure.”

“I could see that,” Danny agreed. “But there’s also something nice about the full house. It’s all very… alive feeling.”

The words were more melancholy than they should be. They were more like how Jason, who knew the feeling of death all too well, might say them. It brought troubling thoughts to mind.

“Yeah, that can be nice about it. Sure is quieter if I’m not here or at Roy’s,” Jason agreed after maybe too long a moment.

“Is Roy that much more talkative when it’s just the two of you?”

“Oh, no. Well, yeah, but it’s more about his little girl, Lian. She’s three and a half and an absolute handful most days. She’s also at that age where she’s pretty much narrating her own life in half understandable babble so there’s just a lot of constant noise.”

Danny chuckled. “I bet. Stayed with a friend for a bit when I was between jobs and stuck there for a few months by a non-complete clause. Her one kid was that age at the time and the oldest five. I didn’t know just how much everything there was when having kids that age. It made me actually feel a little sorry for my parents.”

“You the youngest, oldest, or middle?”

“Youngest. I’ve got one older sister, Jasmine,” Danny said. “You could sorta say there’s a half a sibling too. I basically grew up with my best friend and there were some weeks I spent more time at his house than ours.”

“That close to him?” Jason asked.

“Yeah. That and it was easier, sometimes, to not be at home.”

“Oh.”

That implied some unfortunate things that Jason hadn’t quite been expecting. Danny seemed pretty well adjusted. He was even good at handling Damian, but Jason supposed that maybe part of that was because Danny had been through his own issues.

Danny just shrugged. “I have a life long friend out of it. We don’t see each other in person much these days since we’re on other sides of the country, but we still talk plenty.”

Jason gave a soft hum and, a beat later, asked, “What made you end up in Gotham of all places?”

“Wayne Enterprises, actually,” Danny said. “The rep in the industry as place to work is unparalleled really, especially for what I want to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Help people,” Danny said, honestly and with a crooked little smile. “Which I know sounds cheesy, but I really wanted to create things that help people. It’s not like I mind making a better cellphone battery or anything, but it’s nice to know that I get to work on things that help not just with the little, everyday issues but also the big, life changing ones. The fact that those things get to help the city I live in too is a real plus.”

“Gotham has a way of getting to you like that,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” Danny replied softly, gaze in the direction of the Gotham sky line.

And then a scream split the air.

Not a human scream, thankfully, but a repeated screech that had both of them starting and looking around for the source. The screech turned to a warbling clucking as Jerry emerged from behind the landscaping. His tail was high and spread, his wing tips brushed the ground, and he was looking almost shockingly colorful.

“A turkey?”

“Damian’s.”

“Damian has a turkey,” Danny said slowly.

“And a cow,” Jason said. “Cat, dog, a few snakes. He tried to keep a rat but Alfred stopped that pretty quickly.”

Danny rubbed at his temple. “This is why he knew how to take care of wings, isn’t it?”

Jason tried not to smile. “That came up, huh?”

“He’s been sending Bruce information about it,” Danny answered.

Jerry made another loud warble and struck what Jason could only describe as a pose.

“So… does he do this often?”

“His name is Jerry, and nope,” Jason said and pulled out his phone.

Jerry strutted closer to Danny, tail feathers shaking.

“Oh… oh,” Danny said with the tone of someone for who horrible realization was dawning. “Can you, ah, talk him down?”

“I’m afraid I’m morally obligated to film this,” Jason said somberly. He couldn’t hold back his smirk any longer.

Danny shot him a withering look and started to back up towards the Manor. “Really.”

“Really. Good luck.”

“Well, fuck,” Danny said and then took off running.

Jerry followed at top speed with a scream.

Jason sent the video to Bruce. ‘You have competition.’

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

Yeah, the whole "ask the autistic kid a pointed question to get a funny answer with which to demean them" thing was a real motif for me too, back when I was growing up. Actually, I think it's part of a wider trend with bullies. They're not clever, but they possess the low, animal cunning of rat, or maybe a ferret. They'll find the thing that seems trivial to the authority figures in your life but which matters SO SO MUCH to you, and that's what they'll use to get at you. I do think being the kid on the receiving end of that has one thing to be said for it: it gives you a really good sense of what humans are. I went through a lot of bullying - most of it baiting me to see how long it would take me to blow my top and go beserk, but quite a bit of physical abuse, too. I don't consider myself traumatised as per the original post, but I think I have a very fucking clear idea of what the human animal is when you peel off its mask of civility and sophistication. When people see you as a victim- as someone who can't defend themselves- they get very comfortable showing you who they really are. And more often than not, who they really are is a mean-spirited scumbag with the IQ of pond-slime. The good news? They're mean-spirited scumbags with the IQ of pond-slime, so sooner or later your life is going to be much richer, more interesting and more fulfilling than theirs, just because you're capable of joys and sorrows and passions that their invertebrate minds could never aspire to. Consider this the inspirational part of the blog post: you will love more fully than they will. You will live with less compromise. You will not be defined, as they are, by the miserable cycle of work, consumption and recouperation that capitalism has made of human existence, because you will have a developed and complex inner life denied to those insensitive blocks who seek to torment you. And, because you have seen what humans are really like, you will have an easier time identifying the people who aren't like that. One day, you will find your tribe in a way that they cannot, and belive me: you are mighty with your tribe. Yes, while you're going through bullying, it feels like they're predators and you're prey, but here's the thing: being predators is all they have. It's the only thing in their pointless, empty little lives and if they ever experience happiness, it's only because they're too dumb to realise how miserable they ought to be.

Now for the less inspirational bit. Yes, things do get better, but you've still got to get through the bullshit first. My advice? I don't have any, but I know what worked for me: violence. I think a lot of the reason I'm not wholly traumatised by my childhood and why I'm so much less bitter than I might otherwise be is that I defended myself in the most literal and primal sense at the time. That counts for more than we're willing to admit to in this neutred fucking age. Not every time (I was smart enough, even then, to realise that getting a reputation as a violent person could be a serious problem), but often enough that I can look back fondly on those rare, wonderful occasions when I just stopped taking it and lamped a cunt with the nearest blunt object instead. I can look myself in the eye (well, if there's a mirror handy, anyway) and say "I gave as good as I got and acquitted myself well". Doesn't do jack-shit in the short-term, because bullies are usually too fucking dumb to fear physical reprisal, but years later it helps keep the wolf from the door. I know that violence can backfire. I know that it can get folk institutionalised and that I was, in some ways, very lucky to grow up with a family who understood its uses and value on some level. I know that it can lead to escalation. But I also know that I've never regretted throwing a punch at someone who earned it and do regretted quite a few missed opportunities to throw one.

So yeah. Take that or leave it.

the thing that always gets me ESPECIALLY about autistic representation in media is that we are universally portrayed as happy-go-lucky, whimsical children, completely oblivious to the fact that the world constantly judges and scorns and HATES us.

We notice. I noticed. The reason I am as messed up as I am today is because i spent 20 LONG years in an environment where every day i was subjected to that. To noticing.

what an absolutely neurotypical view of us. Coddling themselves, getting to act like the way they treat us is fine because we don't understand that our peers dont respect us. Why would we? We're so subhuman to them, it's like asking if your cat notices you playfully insulting it.

Every autistic person I've ever met is on some level bitter and angry and TRAUMATIZED at their upbringing. Of having to go through school as the laughing stock, as the weirdo with no friends who no one wants to talk to, as the animal in the corner you can make do cheap tricks so they can experience some Simulacra of what genuine human connection is.

Now tell me, does it sound like I didn't notice?

[alpaca-clouds]

Solarpunk Cities vs Solarpunk Villages

One of those internal contradictions of Solarpunk is, that Solarpunk loves at ones a very urban aesthetic, while also kinda loving the idea of rural living - just without all the rural people out there right now.

If you look at Solarpunk art, yes, you will see some art with skyscrapers overgrown with trees (that again, would not be happy on that skyscraper, do not do that to the poor tree!), a lot of art also shows small settlements surrounded by fields and such. Classical rural settings.

Now, when I posted a while ago about including rural living people into leftist causes, a lot of folks got quite angry with me over it. Because according to quite a lot of tumblrites, obviously everyone who lives rurally is inherently racist, sexist, and queerphobic, other than the queer people who had the bad luck being born rurally and cannot move. But everyone else! And because a lot of leftists have not quite understood the entire "class solidarity" thing, the general thought in those cases is not to talk to people, but to just "fuck them and leave them to die".

I will leave my disagreement with this on: "Yeah, actually, class solidarity is super important. Read up on it" for now, because I want to talk about mainly the advantages and disadvantages on either form of building a solarpunk society.

Cities have one major advantage: In a lot of ways they are a whole lot more sustainable. Which makes sense, if you think about it. Basically, in a city, a whole lot of people are living closer together, so building the infrastructure is just so much easier. You need so much less of everything to provide people who live in multi-household buildings with water, eletrcitity, heating and internet. Because you basically just need one accesspoint for everything to the building. And general in a city you will have a lot more multi-household buildings.

Even without those though: Population density is a lot stronger in cities. Duh. So even if everyone was living in a single-household home (which is not really the Solarpunk ideal) those are closer together and hence you still need less material and power to provide those things.

It is also easier to provide other types of infrastructure, such as schools, markets, and hospitals. Even stuff just like abilities to connect with other folks... It is just easier to do in a city than in a rural area.

However, a lot of Solarpunk is also about empowering people to grow their own food and such and be more self-sufficient. And this, obviously, becomes a lot easier if the people live in a less densely populated area.

Generally: Once you go out of the city - no matter how much you design the city planning around creating enough green spaces and such - you just will be closer to nature. It is a simple fact. You can more easily interact with nature, can more easily put out stuff like animals. And obviously it is easier to grow and cultivate all sorts of produce.

Don't get me wrong: Yes, we absolutely can create food forests in cities - but still, there is a lot more room in rural areas to cultivate food.

See, the main thing with Solarpunk cities is, that they still will not be fully self-sustainable. Yes, absolutely, we can cultivate some food in greenhouses, on rooftops and in foodforests - but it will not be enough to feed an entire city. Meaning: There will be people in rural areas, to grow and cultivate food.

Mind you, ideally we will absolutely bring down meat consumption. While I am not a big fan of the idea of a fully vegan future (for reasons I went into multiple times: some people can for chronic sicknesses, or disabilities not go fully vegan, and yes, I personally also see value in cultural stuff that involves meat), I do think we will eventually reduce meat consumption a lot. So we will need a lot less room to grow stuff - because right now a lot of vegetables (especially corn) are consumed by livestock. So reducing livestock will reduce the need for produce in many regards.

We can because of this rewild a lot of area that currently is used to grow corn and such.

Still. One way or another: some people will need to farm. The question is just how many. Because yes, we can automate a whole lot of stuff - but that brings us back to the good old question of us being alienated from our food. Sure, if we cultivate some food where people are, this might be better... But we definitely can philosophically discuss whether it would not be better for us as a species to always cultivate our own food. Especially as we know that food that is grown in mixed fields and under concepts of permacultre are a lot harder to harvest automatically - but much better for the environment.

So, some people will need to be out there for farmwork. The question just remains: How many?

Because exiling some folks from society to grow food and isolate them seems to be rather bad in taste too, right?

And there definitely is some arguments for some people living more rurally. It just is harder to create as a context.

And sure, if we ever got to the Solarpunk future, chances are, things will come to be naturally. However, it is still worth thinking about it and evaluating it.

[mrs-monaghan]

https://x.com/jikooks_doll/status/1903594400694849957

SHAZZZ COME OUT OF HIATUS AND EXPLAIN TO ME PLEASEEEE

There’s no Legs between Jimin’s thighs right ? RIGHT ?

from this position I can even tell apart their lower bodies.. still we can see Jimin’s legs and JK’s on other side. It’s not like Jk was trying to put his legs between Jimin’s RIGHT SHAZBAJJWWJ ??

I'm not on haitus

I'm just more active on Tiktok atm simply because talking is so much easier than typing 😂😂 oh, for those who don't have access to TT I created a YouTube not that there's alot on there but I'm figuring it out 😁😁

Back to dear anon over here

Thrushkookers strike again! They keep getting jikook moments disabled on twitter like that's gonna make them any less real. 😂😂😂🤡🤡

Now anon, the problem with people pointing things out is that you also start to see what they're saying they can see 😂😂

I honestly can't unsee it 😂😂 it really does look that way to me now...

[doctorbitchcrxft]

I Know What You Did Last Summer | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, depression, anxiety, derealization, depersonalization, girl just all the warnings go here man put 'em all here

Word Count: 3829

A/N: GUYS. FAKE PLASTIC TREES. (ive been thinking about Dean and y/n with this song for days). GUYS. YOU DON'T GET IT. (they're dragging me back to my padded cell). FAKE PLASTIC TREES BY RADIOHEAD. FAKE

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Uriel had been oddly quiet, and you didn’t like it at all. “No news” wasn’t exactly “good news” when it came to angel business. 

You knew he was always around; almost like a shadowy, blurry figure in the background of a wide camera shot. Not exactly present but ominous and threatening. 

Dean wasn’t pushing you any further, which you were thankful for. There were certain things the two of you just didn’t talk about. While you weren’t exactly thrilled about the two of you bottling things up, it was all you knew how to do anymore. There were feelings so complex you couldn’t find the words to attribute to them. 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you touched your journal. It was your way of checking in on yourself. If there was a large gap of time between dates when you’d written, you knew something had gone horribly wrong during that time. This was probably the longest you’d gone without writing your thoughts down. There were just simply no words. 

Perhaps the word was grief? It was a different kind of grief than the one you’d felt when he was gone. This kind was a sickening nostalgia. You missed the innocence in his eyes when you’d first met him, and you missed the way you immediately felt comforted and safe around him. However, not even he could keep you safe from the hungry animal you’d become; a rabid dog fighting for a cause you didn’t necessarily believe in. 

There were moments you’d get pulled into your own thoughts and couldn’t pull yourself out no matter how hard you tried. While you’d gained a little of the weight back you’d lost during Dean’s time in Hell, you still felt hollow. The color had returned to your face, sleeping was a little bit easier, but there was no light behind your eyes. Even despite those little improvements, you knew that Dean could see right through them. He knew you better than anyone. You couldn’t hide the ache in your jaw from clenching your teeth in your sleep. You couldn’t hide the way you’d flinch at the screams in a horror movie on pay-per-view. He saw each and every one of your weaknesses, and that terrified you. 

The thing to pull you from your mind this time was Sam dropping the pool cue he was using while trying to hustle a group of drunk college guys. He seemed to have tunnel vision as he headed toward— ‘Ruby?’ you thought. 

“God fucking dammit,” you breathed out. You chugged the last bit of your beer, and then headed to the brothers standing near the demon. 

“Ooh, great,” Dean was saying sarcastically as you walked up to the group. “Intel from demons; reliable.”

“Girl named Anna Milton escaped from a locked ward yesterday,” Ruby replied, ignoring Dean’s comment. “The demons seem pretty keen on finding her. Apparently, some real heavy-hitters turned out for the Easter-egg hunt.”

“Why? Who is she?” Dean asked. 

Ruby shrugged. “No idea. But I'm thinking that she's important, 'cause the order is to capture her alive. I just figured that whatever the deal is, you might want to find this girl before the demons do.”

Sam sighed. “Look, maybe we should check it out.”

“Actually, we're working a case, but thanks,” Dean said curtly.

“What case?” Ruby scoffed. 

“Uh, we've got leads, big leads.”

Her face was unchanging. “Sounds dangerous.”

You held back a snort. That was funny, if you were honest. 

“Yeah, well, it sure ain't goose-chasing after some chick— who, for all we know, doesn't even exist— just because you say she's important,” Dean snapped. 

Ruby held up her hands in surrender. “I'm just delivering the news. You can do whatever you want with it. Far as I'm concerned, I told you, I'm done.”

When she’d told you the address of the hospital Anna escaped from, the brothers moved toward the car. You turned back to Ruby one last time. “You should probably know you’re making a mistake leaving me alive,” you said evenly. 

The demon scoffed. “Why?”

“Because if you step even a little out of line, I’ll come back for you.”

“Ooh, scary,” she snickered. “What are you gonna do? Call your angel friend?”

“I’ll lock you in your body and tear you limb from limb,” you replied, completely serious.

That seemed to shake her resolve a little bit. You turned on your heel, walking out of the bar. It was then you noticed Dean was watching the entire interaction from the door. 

You blew right past him, trying to ignore the way he was analyzing your every move. 

****

The next day, you spoke to the psychologist who was head of Anna Milton’s case. She actually was a real person; a journalism major that had gone schizophrenic two months ago. You’d flipped through multiple pages where she’d drawn in detail the two scenes you’d witnessed of seals being broken. 

Then, you went to her parents’ house.

“Mr. and Mrs. Milton?” Dean called as he knocked on the door. 

Sam then called, “We're from the sheriff's department. We just wanted to ask you a couple of questions.”

Dean pushed the door open that the lock had been broken off of, and you drew your gun immediately. 

“Whoa, Elmer Fudd, relax,” Dean quipped, seeing as you’d already cocked it. While that comment normally would draw a smile out of you, you were too on-edge to even fully register it. You brushed past him into the house where a trail of blood led to the living room. 

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed out, taking in the bloody mess the Miltons’ living room had been turned into. The throats of both people had been cut, but that wasn’t what disturbed you. What disturbed you was the fact that you felt almost nothing while you looked down at them. The empathy had seemingly been drained from you. 

Sam spoke up next to you, and you flinched. “Sulfur. The demons beat us here. Whatever the deal is with this Anna girl—”

“Yeah, they want her. They're not screwing around. Alright, so, I'm Girl, Interrupted, and I know the score of the apocalypse, just busted out of the nut-box... Possibly using superpowers, by the way. Where do I go?” 

You picked up a photo on the mantle, then noticed something. “It’s the window of Anna’s church. She drew it in her notebook. Let’s go.” You dropped the photo back on the ground, and the two brothers stared after you in confusion. “She’ll be there.” “Wait, (Y/N), how do you know?” Sam asked. 

“Trust me on this one, huh?” you asked, patience thin. 

“Trust you? I don’t even know who you are anymore!” Sam protested.

“I’m still me, Sam, relax, man.” You continued marching forward.

“(Y/N), stop!” Dean yelled. 

You swung around, raising a fist. Then, when you saw Dean’s horrified face, you recoiled. Your throat immediately felt like it closed up. It felt like the breath had been punched out of your lungs, and the look on Dean’s face broke your heart. 

“I— I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I’m sorry. I don’t— I didn’t know it was you. I got scared. I’m sorry.”

Dean looked like he didn’t recognize you. He’d been looking at you like that a lot recently. 

****

No one had spoken on the drive to Anna’s church. The silence was tense, as were your shoulders. The two people you loved most in the world seemed terrified of you; like you were a bomb about to go off at the slightest touch. 

You didn’t know whether you wanted to crawl into Dean’s lap and cry or run away again. Everything just hurt. 

Then, you noticed someone walking up the stairs through the stained glass window of Anna’s church. Before the Impala was even in park, you were out with your gun drawn. You didn’t give the boys a chance to question your actions and headed into the church. 

You silently crept up the stairs, locked in on your target. 

When you reached the top step, you could see a redheaded girl staring out the front window you’d driven up to. 

“Anna,” you said plainly. You still held your gun but aimed it at the floor. 

She spun around, looking terrified. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” you told her. “I’m tryin’ to help you, okay? My name’s (Y/N).” 

“(Y/N)?” she repeated. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”

You momentarily were gobsmacked. “How’d you know that?” You cocked your gun, still aiming it at the floor. 

Anna flinched. 

“Just answer the question,” you said. 

“Whoa, (Y/N),” Dean warned, and for the first time, you noticed the brothers were behind you. 

“Dean—” you returned, cutting your eyes at him. 

“Dean. The Dean?” Anna asked. 

She was beginning to annoy you. 

“Well, yeah. The Dean, I guess,” he chuckled, straightening up. 

He was acting like his old self again, and that sent a pang of jealousy through you. Just those few words, and it seemed like he had that same jovial energy he did when you first met him. 

“It's really you,” Anna said dreamily. “Oh, my god. The angels talk about you. You were in Hell, but Castiel pulled you out, and some of them think you can help save us. And some of them don't like you at all.” She looked past your shoulder at the younger brother. “And Sam; Sam Winchester. They talk about you all the time lately. I feel like I know you.” She then realized you were still standing there. “I feel like I should be afraid of you,” she said. 

“Aren’t you?” you asked, somewhat afraid of her answer. 

“Yes,” she replied honestly. 

It did hurt you a bit to hear that. “Me too, kid,” you sighed. Immediately, you felt Dean’s eyes on you. You cleared your throat, realizing you’d said what you had aloud. “So, you talk to angels?”

She shook her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, no. No, no way. Um, they probably don't even know I exist. I just kind of... overhear them.”

“How?”

“Sometimes, I just... hear them in my head,” she explained. “Not right this second, but a lot. And I can't shut them out; there are so many of them.”

“So you’re not schizophrenic,” you concluded. “You’re just… tuning into angel radio?”

She nodded, standing up a little straighter. “Yes. Thank you.”

“When did they start? You remember?” you pressed. 

“I can tell you exactly,” she replied, “September 18th.”

That date would forever stick out in your mind. “The day he busted out.”

“First words I heard, clear as a bell— ‘Dean Winchester is saved’,” she nodded. 

“Anna,” you began hesitantly. “You never said what they thought about me.”

“The angels?” she asked innocently. 

Solemnly, you nodded. 

“They don’t talk about you,” she said honestly. “I only ever heard your name once.”

“And?”

“ ‘(Y/N) (Y/L/N) no longer bites the hand’.”

“The fuck does that mean?” you asked, stomach dropping. 

She just shrugged, still on edge as a result of your hostility. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Well, at least now we know why the demons want you so bad. They get a hold of you, they can hear everything the other side's cooking. You're 1-900-angel.”

“Hey, um—” Anna stammered, “Do you know— Are my parents okay? I- I didn’t go home. I was afraid.”

At that moment, Ruby rushed in. “You got the girl. Good, let's go.”

“Her face!” Anna shrieked. 

“It’s okay,” Sam coaxed. “She’s here to help.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, don’t be so sure.”

Surprisingly, Ruby ignored him. “We have to hurry.”

“Why?” you asked, voice accusatory.

“Because a demon's coming; big-timer. We can fight later, (Y/N).”

“And, let me guess, you brought ‘em here?” you snarled. 

“I didn't bring him here. You did,” she said. 

Dean’s jaw tensed. “What?”

“He followed you from the girl's house. We got to go now,” she urged. 

“Guys,” Sam muttered. He pointed at a statue bleeding from the eyes. 

Your stomach dropped, anxiety gripping you. 

“It’s too late,” Ruby worried. “He’s here.”

Sam hid Anna in a closet while you readied yourself to deal with whatever was coming. You pulled your small iron-bladed knife out of your jacket as well as a bottle of holy water. 

“No, Sam, you got to pull him right away,” Ruby ordered. 

Your stomach dropped again. “Whoa, wait, you can’t do that—”

“Now's not the time to bellyache about Sam going darkside,” Ruby replied. “He does his thing, he exorcises that demon, or we die.”

Sam put the flask away and tried to exorcise the demon as soon as it entered the room, but it didn’t work. You breathed a sigh of relief. 

“That tickles,” the demon chuckled; his aura ominous. “You don't have the juice to take me on, Sam.” The demon chucked Sam down the stairs, and Dean took the opportunity to rush him with Ruby’s knife. 

The demon easily overpowered Dean. “Hello again, Dean.”

You tried to use the element of surprise on the demon, hoping that maybe you could overpower him that way. You stayed concealed behind a statue while the demon taunted Dean. 

“Come on, Dean. Don't you recognize me? Oh, I forgot,” he tsked, “I'm wearing a pediatrician. But we were so close in Hell.”

“Alastair,” you breathed out in realization, immediately losing your mind. You screamed bloody murder, running at the demon. You stabbed him straight through the back with the iron knife. 

Alastair grabbed your hair, wrapped it around his hand, and flung you to the ground over his shoulder. You yelped in pain but managed to keep your hold on the knife and pulled it out of his back.  

“You're gonna have to try a whole lot harder than that, girl,” the demon spat, standing over you.

Sam stabbed the demon with Ruby’s knife, giving you an opportunity to scramble away. Dean grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the window. As Sam ran up beside you, you made the split-second, executive decision to jump out the stained glass window. 

**** Although bruised and bloodied, you made it to a motel in one piece— mostly. 

“Are you almost done?” Dean grunted at you while you sewed up Sam’s arm in the bathroom. He’d cut it on part of the fence he fell on when he jumped out of the window after you. 

“I’m going as fast as I can,” you said. 

“Good, 'cause you know I got a dislocated shoulder over here.”

“Dean, I know. Stop,” you begged, patience thin. You used your teeth to help you tie off the end of Sam’s stitching and quickly wrapped it in gauze. He flexed his forearm painfully while you turned to leave the room and help Dean. 

He was hunched over the top of a table chugging a bottle of whiskey. 

“Gimme that,” you ordered. You took a large swig when he handed it to you. 

“So, you lost the magic knife, huh?” Dean called to Sam who was addressing some other wounds in the bathroom. 

“Yeah, saving your ass,” Sam replied. “Who the hell was that demon?”

“No one good,” you answered. 

Dean said, “We got to find Anna.”

You eyed him curiously, but you hoped he wasn’t paying enough attention to see your jealousy. 

“Ruby's got her. I'm sure she's okay,” Sam answered. 

You turned your focus to Dean’s shoulder. “Alright, c’mon. On three. One—” You forced Dean’s shoulder back into place with a sickening pop. He groaned, raising his arm above his head and rolling it around. 

“You sure about Ruby? 'Cause I think it's just as likely she used us to find radio girl and then brought that demon in to kill us,” Dean suggested to Sam. 

“No, she took Anna to keep her safe,” Sam argued. 

“Yeah. Well, why hasn't she called to tell us where she is?”

“Because that demon is probably watching us right now, waiting to follow us right back to Anna again. That's why he let us go.”

“You call this letting us go?”

“Yeah, I do. Look, killing us would've been no problem to that thing. That's why, for now, we just got to lay low and wait for Ruby to contact us.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Okay, Sam, explain something to me.” You licked your teeth in aggravation. “Why the fuck do you trust a demon more than you trust me?”

Sam furrowed his brow at you, nostrils flaring. “I told you.”

You pursed your lips. “Not everything.”

He seemed taken aback. “How do you know that?”

You raised a brow. “Look at how you just reacted.”

Sighing, Sam admitted defeat. “She saved my life.”

“Care to elaborate?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. 

“Y’know what, (Y/N)? Back off,” the brunet snarled.

“Sam—” Dean warned. “Tell us what happened.”

The younger man huffed, sitting down on the bed. Then, he explained, “I… was hammered. These demons got the jump on me. Ruby was one of ‘em. She ended up killin’ the other one, and, uh, she told me she’d had to regain Lilith’s trust.”

“She tell you exactly how she did that?” you questioned pointedly. 

“No, but I don’t think that matters.”

“Why is that?” you pressed. 

“She was tortured down there, (Y/N), I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be lying to me about that,” he replied. 

You rolled your eyes. “Well, excuse my skepticism.”

“Just… keep going, Sam,” Dean ordered dejectedly.

You folded your arms, turning away from the two men to calm yourself down.

“She told me she could teach me how to get rid of Lilith,” he said. 

Dean looked at him expectantly. “So? What'd she teach you?” 

“Well, the first thing I learned…” Sam trailed off. “I'm a crappy student. First time I tried, all I got was some smoke out of ‘im. Ruby ended up having to kill ‘im. I was pissed, she was… y’know.”

“Uh, wait, what?” you asked. “What does ‘y’know’ mean?”

Sam took a breath, then continued. “She told me the girl she’s possessing had checked out a long time ago. I, uh, I didn’t wanna talk to her about Dean being gone, and, uh, she kissed me.”

Your brow furrowed. “She kissed you?”

He chuckled. “That wasn’t all we did.”

You and Dean grimaced. 

“Yeah, uh, she said something like, ‘I know you think we shouldn’t, and it’s wrong, but the girl’s gone; it’s just me in here.’ And, again, I was pissed, needed an outlet, and, uh, I fucked her.”

Dean flinched. “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Too much information,” Dean said. 

He held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I told you I was coming clean.”

“Yeah, but now I feel dirty,” the older one grimaced. “Okay, well, uh, brain-stabbing imagery aside— So far, all you've told me about is a manipulative bitch who, uh, screwed you, played mind games with you, and did everything in the book to get you to go bad.”

“Yeah, well, there's more to the story,” Sam said.

“Skip the full-frontal this time, huh?” you suggested. 

“Pretty soon after... that, um…” he trailed off. “I put together some signs: omens.”

“Saying what?” Dean prompted. 

“Lilith was in town. And I wanted to strike her first,” he explained. “I was ready to do a full-on kamikaze attack. I nearly killed her trying to get her to let me go.” He took a deep breath and shrugged. “Ruby came back for me. Whatever you have to say, she saved me. More than that, she got through to me. What she said to me... It's what you would've said. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be here.”

Then, someone knocked on the door. “Housekeeping.”

“Not now!” you and Dean called back in unison. 

“I’ve got clean towels,” the woman answered. 

With your gun on the back of your door, you looked through the peephole and opened the door. 

The maid let herself in.

You scoffed, keeping the door open and hiding your gun behind it. “Couldn't you just leave 'em at the door?”

“I’m at this address,” she said, pressing a piece of paper into your hand. 

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Go now. Go through the bathroom window, don't stop, don't take your car, don't pass go. There are demons in the hallway and in the parking lot,” the woman explained. 

“Ruby?” Sam asked. 

The demon threw her hands up. “Okay, yes, so I'm possessing this maid for a hot minute. Sue me.”

“What about—”

“Coma girl? Slowly rotting on the floor back at the cabin with Anna, so I've got to hurry back. See you when you get there. Go!” she ordered. 

Without so much as a glance at either brother, you moved toward the window with all three duffel bags slung over your shoulder. 

****

“Glad you could make it,” Ruby said, back in her original body as you entered the cabin.

“Yeah, thanks,” Sam told her. He then looked over at Anna, who sat on the couch. 

“Yeah, I think so,” she smiled. “Ruby's not like other demons. She saved my life.”

“Yeah, I hear she does that,” Dean deadpanned. “I guess I... You know.” He looked down at the ground.

Ruby crossed her arms, turning toward him. “What?”

“I guess I owe you for... Sam. And I just wanted... y’know—”

Ruby smirked. “Don't strain yourself.”

“Okay, then. Is the moment over?”

Ruby nodded. 

“Good, 'cause that was awkward.”

“Hey, Sam, you think it'd be safe to make a quick call, just to tell my parents I'm okay?” Anna asked. “They must be completely freaked.”

“Anna—” you started. 

She turned to face you, concern overtaking her. “What?”

“Your parents are gone,” you stated matter-of-factly. 

“(Y/N)—” Sam said, frustrated at your apparent lack of empathy. 

“No, they’re not—” she hiccuped. “Why is this happening to me?”

“I don’t know,” Sam told her. 

Then, her face changed. She sprang up from her seat, eyes wide. “They’re coming.”

“Uh, who?” you asked. 

“Back room,” Dean ordered. 

Sam left to bring Anna to the back, and you readied yourself with your iron blade. 

“Where's the knife?” the demon prompted. 

You tsked. “About that…”

“You’re kidding,” she said. 

“Look, it’s your boyfriend’s fault,” you shrugged. 

“Thanks a lot,” Sam hissed at you. 

You glared back at him. 

“Great. Just peachy. Impeccable timing, guys, really,” Ruby snarked. 

With a violent rattle, the door burst open. 

“(Y/N),” Uriel stated, stepping into the room. Castiel wasn’t far behind. 

You stepped slightly forward. “What? What’d I do?”

“You want to explain why you have that stain in the room?” the angel snapped at you.

Castiel cut you off, keeping you from answering. “We're here for Anna.”

“Here for her like... here for her?” Dean asked. 

“Stop talking,” Uriel ordered. “Give her to us.”

“Are you gonna help her?” Sam asked. 

“No,” Castiel said. “She has to die.”

“(Y/N),” Uriel ordered, eyes icy. 

Your stomach dropped. 

“Kill.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[maxdibert]

Well, it's interesting that you say this because:

My great-grandfather was almost executed after spending a year in a fascist prison and being sentenced to death for political reasons. My grandfather ended up in a French concentration camp after fleeing at the end of our civil war—he was 18 when they put him in the camp. Two years later, they took him from there to the Nazi concentration camp of Mauthausen.

Both of my parents—each on their own—were part of political groups in their youth, leftist groups in a far-right dictatorship. They had trouble with the police because of this, and the political police were no joke, I’m sure you understand. I myself was involved in political groups from the age of 15 to 22, actively engaged groups, and I’ve had my own clashes with neo-Nazi and far-right groups.

If you’re going to lecture someone using the "guerrilla warrior" fallacy, unfortunately, I’m the worst possible person for that to work on.

As someone with a family that lived through a civil war, I can tell you that many people who fight in wars don’t do it out of conviction but out of obligation. Choosing a side often doesn’t depend on you but on which side your town falls under. And privileged people always have it much easier, whether they’re on one side or the other.

This is something that anyone from a society truly devastated by war knows. My parents grew up in antifascist environments—of course, they followed antifascist groups. That was the logical thing to do. They had the means, the education, and the support. I joined antifascist groups in high school, and that doesn’t make you a hero, especially when you have a safety net to fall back on.

A cop cracked my head open when I was 17 and got arrested for protesting outside a school—was that heroic? Well, when you have parents who could walk into the police station with an excellent lawyer and the resources to cover everything, no, it wasn’t that heroic. Heroism is getting up every day, surviving without resources or support, and making it through however you can.

The one who doesn’t understand what they’re talking about is you because it’s clear you have no idea how political activism works beyond the internet. You’ve never had to deal with legal accusations of that nature. If you had been involved in politics, you would have realized that most of the so-called "heroes of the people" are actually nepo babies or middle-class individuals—because they’re the ones who can afford the luxury and privilege of being arrested, getting beaten up, or skipping classes for a strike. And if you don’t understand something as basic as that, then don’t talk about what you don’t know, because with every word you say, you only make yourself look more ignorant and like someone with zero real-life experience on the matter.

I would have loved to see you alone in a clash with a group of neo-Nazis. I have been in clashes with neo-Nazis, and I’m not going to wear a medal for it because it’s not something praiseworthy. It’s what was expected of someone like me and what my position as a relatively privileged person allowed me to do. The one who had to apply for two scholarships just to go to university and still work to afford rent wasn’t out there fighting neo-Nazis, but they had far more merit than those of us who were.

Your view of politics is purely social-democratic—pure social liberalism. You have no class consciousness, you don’t understand the roots of systemic problems, and you don’t even bother to be self-aware about them. Your discourse comes from a place of privilege, and honestly, it’s embarrassing.

Isn’t that funny that Snape stans are obsessed w James as much as Snape himself was obsessed with him

[star--anon]

a Minho who's not healed from WCKD

not in the fun, angsty way

in the way that he watches and learns and pretends to be healed

always a soldier. Ever calculating

Paradise's best psychologist works day and night with him to get him to say a single word

well, the less he talks, the more those idiot doctors chatter

and the more he understands the role he's meant to play

"We're chalking it up to stress."

"He's been done a number on by WCKD."

"Look at the burns on his back."

"Minho? It's me, Thomas. It's okay. You're safe now. I promise."

"A7. I am your assigned psychologist. You have been released from WCKD facility. You have returned to your civilian life, and I'm happy to return your name to you."

So he plays along and pretends to be confused

eats his pudding like a good patient and sometimes he pretends to go berserk and try stabbing his eyes out with the spoon

sometimes that scared little boy inside him tries to succeed. Thinks it'd be easier that way

he's gotten very good at beating him down

"I... I don't remember anything," he whispers. He chews his lower lip like he's trying to stop it from trembling

When Thomas keeps making visits to him, he goes quiet again

there's something too nervous, too worried, too caring about the boy to be normal.

Minho stays quiet and tries to pick up what Thomas wants him to act like

his abrupt return to silence worries the doctors, who immediately cut meetings with Thomas

after Minho plays up the part of fully healing, he's released from the hospital with grinning doctors and a relieved Thomas

"We really thought it'd take more than this," Jorge murmurs as he helps Thomas carry a fake-limping Minho back to Thomas' tent. "I guess even WCKD's best scientists can't break you."

Minho puts out a tired but cocky smile that he knows will reassure Jorge

Thomas is a nervous wreck their first few days living together

awkwardly inviting him to sleep in one bed

asking him if he still likes his coffee with milk

trying to tease him and crack jokes, and then falling quiet and shuffling away when Minho doesn't respond

Minho has to take it slowly, otherwise it'll look suspicious

so he acts up the part of slowly loosening his soldier shell

Yes, he would prefer to be alone right now. But Thomas can be the exception

Yes, he hates being touched on his back. But Thomas can touch his scars because Minho smiles softly when Thomas' hands are on him

Yes, he will flinch violently when Thomas moves his hands a little too quickly near his face. But he'll catch Thomas' hands in his with a reassuring smile, then quickly yank his hands away like he didn't notice his intimate motion

Minho trains himself to wake up at random periods of the night, and then jerks out of bed screaming so Thomas can catch him in his arms and press kisses against his cheeks

when they're invited to help Frypan in the kitchen, Minho dabs whipped cream on his nose so Thomas can teasingly kiss it off

Minho wears thin shirts because Thomas blushes at the sight of his massive arms

Minho stops frowning so much. Stops shutting down and going quiet when he's confused. Lets himself cry when the nightmares of WCKD's training program come back instead of steeling his face and screaming quietly inside. Seeks Thomas' attention. Craves Thomas' touch.

and one day, he realizes he doesn't want to study Thomas and wait for the perfect times to strike

he doesn't want to beat Thomas into a bloody pulp and hold whatever's left as a hostage

he wants to be the Minho that Thomas thinks he is

Minho, whose soldierly calculations aren't going towards researching Thomas' weak points. What scars still hurt. What fighting techniques he can no longer do after the injuries he sustained

instead, he's noting Thomas' favorite cookie

what kind of scented candle he likes

that he loves the sound of wind chimes

his passion for a warm cup of tea on a rainy day

his distaste for Minho's pretend drinking problem

his adoration for budding flowers and small dogs

his awkwardness as he tries to figure Minho out

his goofy, idiot smile when he spots Minho in a crowd

I'm poisoning myself.

You're poisoning me.

Minho wasn't trained in this.

Minho can remove a bullet from his abdomen with no pain killers. Minho can operate a handgun with five broken bones in each hand. Minho can plank for half an hour while withstanding hot iron brandings on his back.

Minho can take a mouthguard without spitting in a scientists' face, and Minho can have his brain electrocuted without crying.

Minho can't take whatever Thomas is.

"I don't remember the Glade." He says it so quietly because he's so terrified. He's never been terrified before.

Thomas doesn't catch it. "You don't what?" he mumbles as he sinks his teeth gently into the soft skin of Minho's left shoulder. Minho's entire collarbone is littered with his lovebites.

It's the first pain Minho's ever enjoyed. And willingly sought out

"I'm not a Glader."

Thomas pulls off him, and his shoulder feels cold without that heat. His waist feels could without Thomas' arms wrapped around him, his lap feels cold with Thomas' legs resting him them

"Minho," Thomas tries to say in a soft tone.

"We should go to the hospital."

"Why?" Thomas rakes his eyes over Minho's body, concerned.

"I need to speak to my psychiatrist."

"Have you had another one of your attacks?" Thomas asks, suddenly urgent. He puts a gentle hand on Minho's, ready to do anything Minho wants him to do.

It breaks Minho. Completely.

Thomas holds him so, so gently as he sobs into his chest.

"I'm sorry," he tries to say, but Thomas just shushes him and kisses him sweet.

[cent-scratchnsniff]

something bad did indeed happen to that man. spent abt 25 minutes trying to find a better picture of that one (1) offical piece with his eyes open that wasnt compressed or tiny

[aerophone-amphibians]

Goddamn, MTMTE goes hard on the third readthrough

[bigmammallama5]

Do you sell your pottery anywhere?

Just through the shop of the community arts center I make/work/teach at! Right now it looks like my tumblers and a mug are still there, but I'm not completely sure since the website has been wonky lately. I guess?? They ship? I've only ever bought items in person from there, but you could ask if you're interested!

[nimblermortal]

Why are there wraiths in my gardening game?

A Wildmender review

The point of Wildmender is that you are given a big ol' desert, and some plants and gardening tools. The plot is superfluous.

So why do the wraiths keep attacking me?

I beat the game! I murdered their leader! Why are they still staging attacks at regular intervals!

Okay, that said, the difficulty settings are super easily configurable in many different ways, so you can turn wraith damage off, etc, to make the game fit your needs and desires. I haven't actually messed with this because I'm cool with smiting a wraith every so often. Also, on standard difficulty you can just surround your home base with tower defense sigils and they will literally take care of everything up to and including the final boss for you. With the teleportation system, all you have to do is go home when a wraith attack occurs, and then lead the attackers to their doom. So the wraiths don't have to be a problem.

I really like climbing around a 3D world building my garden. I think there's a lot of end game potential - I really want to see if, if I upgrade all the springs fully, I can fill the channels of the salt flats with water, for example. (In which case I will need some sort of swim mechanic to get more pearls to upgrade the rest of the springs in the game.)

I liked how you can just garden your way past the game's obstacles. You're supposed to have a special bracelet for the salt flats to keep them from draining your water, but if you just fill your inventory with acorns and revive every spring you come across, the water drainage is manageable without that.

I think there should be more plants. There are a lot at the beginning of the game, and then toward the end it starts to feel kind of repetitive, you've got some half dozen base plants that come in different skins and all the loot is the same. You could get some really cool DLC in there by adding end-game quests to revive old strains of plants, explore seed bunkers, etc.

It's also a very lonely game. You are literally the only living creature in the world when you start. Oh, there are the gods, and your tutorial leader, but once they run out of tutorials it's just... you and the plants. Which is great! It's exactly what I'm looking for! but the loneliness creeps on you. Maybe I'm not hugging my frogs enough.

(Pro tip: Collect pearls from the salt flats and feed them to your frogs not for the upgrade capability but so that they glow purple and you can find them more easily.)

I had a lot of fun, but it would be more fun in co-op. I really want to play with Tea, but Tea cannot handle combat at all - I was hoping for a combat-free game, and then I was working on my save to beat the final boss so that the wraiths would go away so I could get Tea to come garden with me. So that's really why I'm upset about the continued wraiths. (Mind, Tea doesn't have a Windows operating system to work with, so the day is far anyway.)

Blooper Reel

It's about impossible to play the game without a mouse. You can't strafe without one, and even climbing the spiral staircases was extremely difficult. (The difficulty level dropped dramatically when I plugged in a mouse. Wraiths were a minor concern compared to getting the timing right to WASD myself around a spiral staircase with no rails.)

The game does not prevent you from going off the edge of the map, it just puts a really big cliff there. So if you want to push your boundaries, empty your inventory of important material first. I do not recommend jumping off the cliff with all the easily-obtained instances of the most difficult resource in the game. Usually you can reclaim your body, but not if it's rolled off the bottom of the cliff into doesn't-exist land.

The game tells you that you can cycle through tools using the keyboard shortcut T. It does not tell you that if you have a mouse with a scroll wheel, you can also use that scroll wheel. For a long time I thought it was the worst glitch in the game (there are others) and also that the game was poorly designed in terms of giving you about a dozen tools that you have to keep jabbing T to get round the circuit of. I still think a hotkey system with numbered tools would work better.

It took me a really long time to find out the cape of winds was useful. I got it to tick off the quest box, and then kept on climbing and using the vine bridge mechanism. Once I figured out the cape holy crap were the salt flats less miserable. up down up down up down infinite umbrella mushrooms...

[crimeronan]

Obsessing over your AU and Luz and Amity’s lumity dynamics. How tf are these two ever going to figure out they love each other? Is it going to be gradual (aka Amity realizing she has nothing to fear and Luz isn’t a cold murdering mastermind manipulator) or something more sudden where they’re in a situation where they HAVE to face their feelings, somehow? Very curious

god it deserves a full fic. i think i answered a similar question to this a few weeks ago but cannot for the Life of me remember what i said. (bad memory disease.) if this contradicts earlier kitkat just know that i contain multitudes but i Think it would be a combination of amity getting to know luz better and realizing that she actually really really REALLY wants to cede her power. and maybe even more than that, it's amity realizing that a lot of her most neurotic hangups about luz are bc of assumptions she's made about luz and hunter's relationship -- so the realization that hunter is nowhere Near as oppressed or mistreated as amity secretly worries he might be.

like i'm a sucker for involving a third party in any awkward romance but it's especially Vital here imo, because amity doesn't trust luz's intentions and also doesn't trust her own perceptions. and yet for some godforsaken reason, the person she DOES trust is hunter. like don't get me wrong, she thinks he's plotting her downfall at all times and like 80% of the time he IS, but he's also straightforward with her in a way that basically nobody else in the castle is.

amity and hunter getting into a heated argument because hunter is righteously indignantly going "she's NEVER mistreated me, she would NEVER hurt me, what are you ON" and amity is like "well of course you think that, you're delusional" and hunter is like "fine. tell me the ways you think she's 'mistreating' me"

and then amity rattles off like a solid twelve Wildly Incorrect And Also Super Fucked Up assumptions she's made about luz and hunter's power dynamic, while hunter is like

........blight. listen. do you like.... do you need me to go, like, kill your parents-

[hotsugarbyglassanimals]

even though i feel like i can confidently tell when a piece of art is generative A/I, i really don't feel inclined or really even justified calling someone out for it due to the precedent it sets - especially when artists who DO make their own pieces get caught in the crossfire for being inexperienced or making the choice to be more free-form when it comes to character design / consistency...

[daz4i]

it's so hard being a person who needs to be the best at everything when you are slightly below average at best at any given department

[mars-ipan]

it’s really weird being trans and going to the doctor when you don’t plan on transitioning medically

[drysauce]

im still thinking about yesterday when after the cinema i mentioned than when i get home i'll help one girlie from uni with her project because she's stuck to which one of my friends asked why am i helping some random girl instead of my roommate