#they are. so special to me why did these characters in particular imprint upon me so heavily

[hellboundhimbo]

I HATE THEM I HATE THEM SO MUCHHHH. detransitioning and becoming a homophobe this pride because i cannot STAND THEM. i quickly became homophobic. ignore the fact that they’re my wallpaper okay just don’t look at it.

we can ALWAYS talk about him lashing out at everyone because it DOES THINGS TO MY BRAIN…. cuz like no matter the context we talk abt it in, romantic platonic wtvr, it’s undeniable that kuwabara and yusuke love each other. and yk you imitate the people you love, and i think him lashing out like that is another yusukeism that kuwabara absorbed. bc when yusuke’s hurt, or when he hurts someone else, he’ll usually double down to run from his guilt. and yk this changes throughout the course of the show bc character development, but kuwabara i feel embodies that so strongly here. because he’s got so much frustration built up from his personal life, to that inferiority complex in regards to his place in team urameshi from dark tournament going largely unresolved i think, and how kuwabara’s kinda just. defined himself entirely by yusuke’s presence?

bc kuwabara has this strong fixation on yusuke, has since he first lost to him in a street fight. bc yusuke was the first person to beat him, kuwabara not only beating saw him as a goal to work towards, but also as a fighter he respects. and the more he loses, the more they fight, the more yusuke is cemented as this untouchable pillar of strength in kuwabara’s eyes. so its constant, he’s feeding into this— let’s call it what it is— obsession day after day, so when yusuke dies for the first time, kuwabara just. doesn’t know what to do with himself. because if you mold your free time, your goals, your motivation, your brain space around one person, you become dependent on them. so even when yusuke’s gone he clings to tightly to his memory, even though as far as he knew, him and yusuke weren’t even friends. but then despite all odds, yusuke comes back. so kuwabara, both consciously and not, follows him. clings to his side because what else has he done in the last year or so, other than follow urameshi’s guiding light? but yusuke isn’t a guiding force he’s not wise nor honorable, he’s immature and brash and unpredictable— and the thing is, kuwabara knows that. and i think he loves that about him. bc once yusuke sees kuwabara for who he really is in The Promise, they both come to understand each other more intimately (shouldn’t have laughed when i typed that i have the maturity of a twelve year old boy.)

the codependency is a two way street and THATS what makes it so compelling. the main difference between them is, when kuwabara loves someone he clings onto them, holds them tightly and never lets them go. when yusuke loves someone, he pushes them away. the deeper the connection the farther the distance because (at least i think) he views himself as inherently bad, dangerous, which is something reinforced throughout his childhood by adults with his relationship with keiko, and in his teen years with the mortal danger being associated with him brings to keiko, and later on (more often,) kuwabara. they’re both so violently dependent on one another, and at first they’re on equal footing. delinquents with shitty or absent parents and bad reputations who fight instead of talking. (puts on tinfoil hat) yusuke communicates though fighting because anger and violence were safe emotions for him growing up, both a defense mechanism to shield vulnerability and an offensive weapon against those who wanted to hurt him. kuwabara is a much more emotionally vulnerable person, but can speak yusuke’s language of fighting. yusuke wants to throw hands? sure yeah why not. it’s both a means of affection (getting on each others nerves as a love language lol) and a method of communicating difficult emotions. and it works for a time because like i said, equals.

then yusuke becomes mazoku, and they’re not on equal footing anymore. now, yusuke’s forever tethered to makai and kuwabara has a future in ningenkai, a normal, human life to live that yusuke believes he could never be apart of. yusuke thinks that keeping kuwabara at arms length is the best way to protect him, help him in his own way bc “distance = safety.” but ofc this doesn’t help bc kuwabara doesn’t ever want to be without yusuke, especially after losing him again in chapter black. but yk, duty calls, and yusuke leaves anyway.

my feelings abt this scene conflict so heavily bc on one hand nooo kuwameshi divorce :[ but on the other, i think it is at its core good for them as characters and their relationship PLZ HEAR ME OUT LET ME EXPLAIN. all that time with yusuke gone forces kuwabara to come into his own away from yusuke, define who he is and allow him to hone his ambitions on personal goals rather than revolving his life entirely around him. and ofc with yusuke, he’s facing his problems, conflicting emotions with his heritage and all head on. it’s not flawlessly written ofc, and there’s definitely more than a few things that could’ve been touched on more, but as a whole i think both of them needed the space from one another. it’s a step in the right direction for their relationship i guess, at least for kuwabara.

also, more of a side note than anything, but “i’m gonna miss your weak ass punches the most” bro didn’t you just propose to keiko???? justice for my girl istg ＿|￣|○ DUMP HIS ASS…… cough anyway.

they’re such. they’re such dudes, man. intense codependency fiercely loyal to and protective of one another but also they’d NEVER admit they actually like each other. constantly bickering getting into fist fights over stupid shit but like it’s kind of mutually understood “i would die for you but you’re Not allowed to die for me” it’s so DUMB. i want them to kiss and have a big fat gay wedding but i also want to jump into my computer screen and walk across the pacific ocean like fucking jesus just to beat their asses because ITS SO. STUPID JIST ADMIT YOU LIKE EACH OTHER YOU IDIOTSSS. sigh my brain is a tiny, smooth marble rolling around the circumference of my skull, and held within is a damn near encyclopedic knowledge of the yyh anime as well as many, many kuwameshi brainworms. and a stark inability to do basic multiplication at my big age.

this could be kuwameshi if you guys would like. take my hand and trust me

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

Out of the many things I strongly dislike from the show I think episode 5 pissed me off the most.

Other than the fact that the dialogue was incredibly childish, the scene where all the Lokis basically betray each other is so utterly pathetic and so unbelievably insulting to the title character that I was physically recoiling while watching it.

But upon more thinking there's something else about that ep that not only angers me but makes me incredibly sad.

All the variants in The Void have been effectively manipulated both psychologically and emotionally by the TVA, and it's clear to realize just by listening to them and how they speak about the other variants (therefore giving a glimpse of what they truly think of themselves).

Classic!Loki is specially hurting (perhaps due to age, it's likely he's been there for longer than the others, time is a bit sketchy) but his lines are painful to hear.

Starting with the "He's overly sensitive like the rest of us". This is something that is usually said to scapegoats or otherwise victims of abuse to downplay their feelings and invalidate their experiences. After all, if you're too sensitive the ball is on your court - you should strengthen up, you should have tougher skin... whoever has wronged you gets away scot-free. What's painful about this is Classic!Loki has internalized that and even says that line with a smile on his face, but there's nothing amusing about that. It's tragic.

Then he's explaining his escape from Thanos and: "Everywhere I went only pain followed so I removed myself from the equation. We have but one part to play: the God of outcasts, nothing more." This is 100% typical TVA bullshit. Only one part to play? According to who? Notice how no matter how old this variant is he believes everything he's saying as the ultimate truth. We may not have seen his session with the minutemen but it sure as hell wasn't a good one if they managed to imprint this shit in his head.

You'd think "our" Loki would probably see beyond that (after all, isn't this show about self-love? pfft) but unsurprisingly... he does not. After he gives that speech on how to defeat Alioth and they all laugh at him, he leaves the bunker but not before he calls those variants (variants of his own self, don't forget)... "monsters".

Loki calling himself a monster. Wow, never seen that before. Such growth...

Also, just one more thing about that. Why do they laugh? Because they have lost all hope, they all have been effectively manipulated into believing their only destiny is to lose, so much so to the point of not even trying. This is the TVA's doing!

So, they leave the bunker after that pathetic scene the writers must have thought was so funny to watch and Classic!Loki is almost losing it: "Animals, animals! We lie and we cheat, we cut the throat of every person who trusts us, and for what? Power. Glorious power. Glorious purpose! We cannot change. We're broken, every version of us. Forever."

And if that wasn't bad enough here comes Kid!Loki: "And whenever one of us dares try to fix themselves, they're sent here to die."

We always talk about the terrible job the writers have done in this show but this particular scene? Yeah it bothers me because this isn't true but the variants believe it to be. That's the tragedy. All Lokis want is power? Since when? Loki never wanted the throne in the first movie, the NYC invasion wasn't about power either, that was never at the core of what Loki's character is about. But the TVA made them believe it was, that their goddamn (and repeated to the extenuation) glorious purpose was always about power and betrayal - even though the canon proves otherwise.

But here we have variants who have spent an unknown time in The Void wholeheartedly believing all the lies that have been told to them to the point of not even trying to escape, not bothering with leaving either, and choosing to stay (die) instead.

If this show was truly about self-love "our" Loki would have done his utmost to convince his variants all of that shit was a lie implanted by those who aim to control them, he would have never abandoned them and he would have done anything to help them out. He would have done that for them and for himself.

But what did we get from the show, what's the framing of the episode? Those variants are right in what they say, they have finally seen the truth of what they are (liars, cheaters, etc)... but of course Sylvie is different. That's it, that's the message.

Self-love my ass.

[stusbunker]

AGA: Spit It Out

A Supernatural Denny AU

Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny Lafitte

Other Characters: John and Mary, Jody, Garth, Anna, Castiel, Sam, (mentioned) Benny, Jo, Jack

Word Count: 4222

Summary: Dean has the toughest conversation of his life. Cas asks questions. Sam is a little shit.

Warnings: Homophobic language, internalized biphobia, coming out

Series Masterlist

Shout out to the amazing @cracksinthewalls​ for all her help on this series.

       Dean hadn’t realized how terrified he was of facing his father until he broke down at Jo’s. It hadn’t felt like something he would ever have to do until then. Now, it felt as inevitable as a death sentence.

John had always been a huge force in Dean’s life, but since he had gotten hurt to the point of disability, he was less of a presence and more of an imprint. Letting down his folks was the ultimate sin, one Dean had fought his whole life to resist. He knew they loved him, but would it be enough for them to see beyond the idea of Dean they had in their heads. Could they love a pansy?

His mother would be easier to bring on board; he was her favorite whether she’d admit it or not. On the other hand, John was a Marine, he was a mechanic; he didn’t deal with feelings or things he thought were reckless, selfish choices. Dean had never been selfish a day in his life, but this was something that seemed worth it. Benny was worth it. Dean couldn’t give up on family, and he needed them in his corner if it was going to work at all.

First, Dean just needed to get the words out.

The wind whipped through the neighborhood he grew up in like a child unleashed upon the playground. Direction and speed split its focus until it stilled long enough to move on to the next distraction. Dean parked on the street, letting the familiar siding and newer front door center him as he approached, trying to ignore the uneasiness that was unfurling in his gut. Sam was having lunch with some guys from high school who were in town early for Thanksgiving, granting Dean this window of privacy.

Not that Dean told Sam anything. He had done enough talking at Jo’s, even Benny didn’t know everything that he’d been processing the last few days. He hadn’t wanted to make any promises. Dean walked into the house, calling out his greeting, never one to knock at home. John was parked in front of the television in the living room while Mary sent her welcome from somewhere in the basement. 

“Hey! Talk about timing, lunch is just about done,” John teased. “What brings you ‘round? Sammy’s out for the day.”

“Yeah, Dad, I know. Kinda why I came,” Dean shoved his hands in the pockets of jeans, still standing.

“Jayhawks are playing at two if you wanna stay,” John offered. Dean hummed in uncertainty. John dragged his feet from the ottoman to sit up and face Dean better. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, nothing we can’t talk about over lunch. I’m gonna go see if Mom needs anything,” Dean nodded towards the basement steps and left John to his football.

Dean bowed his head as he reached the bottom of the steps, clearing the duct work to find Mary folding laundry at the long narrow table they used for everything from school projects to writing out Christmas cards. 

“I thought that was you,” Mary said pleasantly. “Did your dad tell you lunch was almost ready?”

She dropped the shirt she had finished atop an awkward pile and opened her arms for a hug. Dean scooped her up, probably a little too enthusiastically, but he didn’t care and she didn’t mind. A simple gasp told him she noticed though.

“So--- what’s the occasion?” Mary asked, turning back to the basket.

“Nothing really, just wanted to catch up,” Dean downplayed, grabbing a pair of jeans to help. Neither of them pointed out that they’d see each other the next day for Sunday dinner. Mary welcomed the visit as much as Dean was dreading it.

“Your father had physical therapy yesterday. I don’t think they get paid enough,” Mary conspired with a heavy side eye.

Dean chuckled, “I’m guessing not his at least.”

“And supposedly I’m the stubborn one,” Mary muttered. “If you want to make some sandwiches, I’m almost done down here. I don’t want to spread the soup too thin.”

Dean nodded and handed her the sweater he had folded last. “Sounds good, anything in particular?”

“Just don’t let him trick you into letting him have the salami, his doctor says he needs to watch the fats,” Mary warned.

Dean perched against the edge of the steps, listening. He slapped the banister and headed back upstairs. “On it.”

The kitchen’s layout hadn’t changed in thirty years and Dean quickly set up an assembly line with poultry, condiments, lettuce and tomatoes. He tucked the cheese with the processed deli meat back in the drawer, hiding the temptation from John. But not before stealing a slice for his and Mary’s sandwiches. He set the table, like hundreds of times before. John’s spot was the head of the table, Mary to his left. Dean set his own plate on John’s right, a seat he fought Sam for more often than not.

Dean stirred the pot, which was much more a vat, of chicken noodle soup. John’s approach was announced by the steady clink of his cane on the hardwood floor of the hallway. Dean pulled out John’s chair before settling down to his heaping sandwich and extra large bowl of soup.

John lifted the top tier of his sandwich, judging the contents. “She got to you, didn’t she?”

Dean just chewed purposely and gave John innocent eyes.

“Figures,” John muttered before bellowing through the house. “Mary! Soup’s ready.”

They ate comfortably, fighting the cold outside with the warmth of the familiarity of a shared meal. The grease from the chicken made bubbles in the broth and Dean blew across the surface mixing them back in. Meanwhile Mary made small talk and John teased her about her part time job. 

“Well, I need to get out of the house, or we’d kill each other, you know that,” Mary flicked John’s ear as she cleared their bowls. 

“How’s that going?” Dean asked, eyes fixed on his mother’s face. Panic clogged his ears at the thought of never seeing her again.

“‘S fine. People are picky, but it isn’t bad for what it is. Better than being behind a desk or answering the phone,” Mary explained of her work at the local sporting goods store. “Friday will be nuts, lots of sales, but it’s not like we would have been doing anything anyway.”

“So, Bobby and Ellen’s on Thursday?” Dean verified.

“Yup, dinner’s at 1. He says you’re on pie duty?” John asked, surprised.

“That I am. Sam’s stuck with sides, so please remind him. I don’t want to show up and only have rolls and turkey,” Dean asked Mary.

“Can do. We’re bringing the---,” Mary started.

“Cranberry sauce,” Dean and John said in unison.

“And the wine!” Mary said in dismay at their laughter. “Jerks.”

John and Dean grinned as Mary rolled her eyes. 

“So, was that everything? It seemed like you had something to hash out with us,” John asked Dean, picking up the last of his sandwich.

“Yeah, mostly. I gotta check with Ellen first, but I might be bringing somebody along,” Dean rushed out. He tipped his bowl back, finishing the final dregs.

“A special someone?” Mary asked delicately, looking at John in hope.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Dean grunted, standing to grab another sandwich.

“Well, is it somebody we know?” Mary prodded, not trying to be too pushy, but obviously curious. “Dean, why are we just now hearing about this?”

Mary’s tone had shifted to apprehension, Dean felt their silent conversation behind his back as he slapped the ingredients together. He shrugged in response, unable to find a proper jumping off point.

He tried to remain casual, but the dred had clawed back up. Without enough wherewithal to speak, Dean sat back down and ate, drawing out his confession to the point of confusion. 

John chuckled at Mary’s suspicion. “He’s nervous. Let the boy get it out.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the phrase. “I’m thirty six, Dad,” he said through a mouthful.

“Is that right? Coulda fooled me.” John tisked his tongue. Mary ignored his teasing tone.

“Dean, what’s the matter? What’s this girl’s problem that’s making you act so--- cagey all the sudden?” Mary asked anxiously. John slipped Mary’s hand into his, silently soothing her as they waited for Dean’s answer.

“Uh, yeah, about that,” Dean started, sitting back, and shooting for blase. “Turns out I actually like guys, too. So, uh, there’s no problem with a girl. I just wanted to bring, um, this guy I’ve been seeing, Benny, to Bobby and Ellen’s.”

Mary inhaled and clenched John’s hand. John stopped stroking Mary’s arm and twisted in his seat. Dean exhaled slowly, like a pin prick in a deflating balloon, he couldn’t take any of it back. Dean took a chance and looked out through his lashes, face tilted towards his plate. First to Mary’s blue worry and then a flicker to John’s almost black disbelief.

John swallowed and ducked low enough to force Dean’s eyes onto his. "You tellin' me you take it up the ass, is that what you're sayin?"

"Jesus. John!" Mary reproached. But neither man's glare faltered. The dark challenge in John's eyes caused Dean's lips to turn up in a silent snarl.

Dean finally broke the silence. "You really want me to answer that?" 

"I think I have a right to know exactly the kind of man my son is," John countered.

Mary stood abruptly. “He's your son! What's the matter with you?! You asking Sam his jerkin' habits now that he's single, while you're at it?!" She went to the sink, bowing over it as if it would cleanse the images the conversation had conjured.

“Oh, hell, that’s not the point,” John muttered.

Dean had been arrested in high school for drag racing. The whole ride home from the police station he was worried what his dad was gonna do to him once they got home, it was the same quiet rage that had terrified Dean as a child. But it was Mary’s disappointment when they walked in the door that tore into Dean to the point of scarring. He could live with his father’s anger, Sam had taught Dean how to slowly stand up to John over the years.

But Dean didn’t know if he could live in the shadow of Mary’s disappointment. He needed somebody to see him as himself, not just a screw up or a queer. 

Dean sighed. "I am your son. But if you can't handle this, Dad. I don't think you have any right to know me anymore." He looked from Mary to John as the last sentence left his mouth. Maybe he was asking too much after all.

Everyone in the room froze. But not even an ultimatum like that could stop John Winchester from digging himself deeper. "Christ, son, Jo really did a number on you, didn't she? Made you turn tail to the other team all together."

"Leave Jo out of this,” Dean spit out as he stood up. “This is about me and who I'm with now." He stalked the long way around the table, shoving chairs in as he went. He approached Mary alone, carefully, one terrified animal to another. "You'd love him, Mom. He cooks, runs his own business, even got an old Harley in the garage."

Mary couldn't hide her tears, but she tried to smile through them for Dean's sake. "Sounds like a catch, sweetie. But what matters is if you love him. You don't need our say so."

"Don't I?" Dean replied sadly before glancing over Mary’s shoulder to John. "You know Jo told me to give you the finger if you couldn’t see how happy I am. How important Benny is to me. And maybe she's right. But I wanted this to work. I wanted to keep the family together. That's why I'm here. The rest is up to you, Old Man."

Dean kissed his mother on the cheek, between murmured reassurances and left without another word to John. He teetered on the brink, somewhere between busting his knuckles against the cold glass of the impala’s window and losing his lunch on the frostbitten ground. Somehow, Dean made it into the solitude of the driver’s seat before he broke down and sobbed. The only saving grace he got was when his mother's voice roared from inside the house.

Dean dragged the salt and snot from his face with a heavy palm and started the engine. He couldn't stay there, but he didn't know where to go either. He just drove.

    Dean pulled into the parking lot at The Pearly Gates on autopilot. He’d spent the afternoon equally suppressing and dissecting his conversation with his parents as he kept it even between the lines of two lane country roads. Now, Dean was ready to be somebody else, to make drinks and flirt and just forget everything that had happened.

    The college football crowd was winding down, which allowed Dean some time to catch up with the day shift bartenders Garth and Jody. Back before Cas got blindsided with the responsibility of business ownership, Cas, Dean, Ash and Artie would claim a booth near the pool tables and blow their grocery money every weekend. When Sam moved back after law school he and Mick joined the crowd that were regularly praised for paying for Jody’s son’s braces.

    Garth had been the first dragged from the friend pool to fill the schedule when Cas’s brother dropped off the face of the earth. Though Garth volunteered, Dean knew it was just out of the goodness of his heart, not a need for extra cash. 

    “Here he is!” Garth announced Dean’s arrival. Luckily for Dean, Garth was pouring a beer otherwise he would have been wrapped in one of Garth’s spider monkey-like hugs. A few regulars in the corner raised their glasses to Dean in greeting as he passed by with his company smile. Jody whipped by him, fresh out of the stock room with her arms full of their dollar bags of chips they sold to keep from having to run a full kitchen.

    “Look who’s early,” Jody exclaimed before dropping the load onto the back counter. “You trying to cut into my time there, Winchester?”

    “You know if you ever want more hours, you just gotta ask,” Dean offered suggestively, strolling behind the bar.

    Jody sputtered dramatically, “And work nights? No, thank you.”

    “It was worth a shot,” Dean replied, shrugging at Garth who knew better.

    Jody sighed and cocked her head. “You’re cute, but you’re not that cute.”

    Dean ducked his head against the compliment as she patted his arm apologetically. 

    “Want me to split your tips before you go?” Dean asked, bending out of his jacket.

    “That’d be lovely,” Jody answered, sorting the chips by kind. “Garth get’s an extra twenty because Bess and Donna were ‘round.”

    “Look at you, Mr. Slick,” Dean teased as he grabbed the old milk bottle filled with mostly singles. Garth blushed.

    “You know what they say Dean-o, flattery is everything,” Garth explained. Dean, who routinely had the most tips out of any of the staff, including Bela, just nodded at the quirky dude. Dean doled out their shares and washed up before officially punching in. 

    Jody was gone as soon as Anna arrived, but Garth waited for Jack to show before leaving her and Dean on their own. It was seven o’clock before Cas arrived instead of his unreliable nephew.

    “Everything alright?” Dean asked knowingly as Cas hung his trench coat on a broken notch on the rail beside the server’s station.

    “Jack is under the weather,” Cas explained blandly. Dean eyed the windows, taking in the light flurries that danced in the streetlight. “I guess I’ll have to do tonight.”

    It was a surprisingly unremarkable shift, the weather kept traffic bearable even after Anna’s shift ended at midnight. Dean walked her out the back to her car, like he always did as the plow eased out of the parking lot. 

    “You gonna be alright with him for the rest of the night?” Anna whispered before they breached the cold. Her big brown eyes held more mischief than worry. 

    “Goodnight, Anna,” Dean drew out as he held the door sternly. 

    “Night, Dean,” Anna chuckled. Dean watched her tiptoe around the icy patches and make it to her old Tahoe. He made sure it started before heading back behind the bar, and three more hours with Castiel. 

    The speakers were set lower than usual to balance their minimal customers. On his shifts, Dean had always insisted on having control over the musical selection. So when he walked into a pop singer’s version of mopey folk he did a double take before bee lining for the stereo. 

    “Please, don’t,” Cas’s simply requested from somewhere to Dean’s right. “I kind of like this song, but more importantly one of the customer’s requested a change of station.”

    Dean eyed the patrons like suspects in a line up, uncertain who would blaspheme in such a way. No one seemed particularly guilty and he had to let it go. Between drinks, Dean washed glasses in the small sink behind the bar until Cas was finally able to start his nightly paperwork. The last couple paid their tab just after 1:30, leaving them holding their breaths in hope as they started to put up the chairs. 

    “Is it often this quiet?” Cas wondered aloud, “I don’t recall Saturday’s business to dwindle so.”

    Dean smiled to himself; leave it to Cas to look a gift horse of a slow night in the mouth. “No, man, this is not the usual. But, it worked out. And thanks for filling in for the kid, I know you don’t like getting your hands dirty.”

    Cas quietly beamed at Dean’s gratitude before pausing at the not so subtle jab at the end. They went through the remaining end of day routine in silence. Dean turned off the faux neon signs in the windows to signal the early close as Cas handled the money. Dean would usually even out the till and split tips with Jack, leaving the deposit for Cas to handle the next day. Instead he was left with cleaning detail as the boss man did the accounting.

    Before long Dean was rolling the dirty mop bucket back to the office/store room/ kitchen/ employee area. Exhaustion had eaten at Dean’s internal walls, leaving him on the slippery edge between slap-happy and zombie. He hummed to keep his eyes open, waiting on Cas to finally call it a night and let Dean clock out.

    “We don’t talk anymore,” Cas said abruptly, without looking up from the cash machine. Dean’s head shot up, concern furrowing his features. “In fact, I’m prone to think you don’t like me at all, Dean.”

    “What do you mean, we’re talking right now,” Dean downplayed defensively. Cas glanced up over his desk, mild surprise evident. Cas always seemed such a mystery to Dean, from his social awkwardness to his blunt observations. Dean had come to envy Cas’s almost innocent lack of need to perform for others, to be anyone but himself. He had forgotten that Cas would read into his demeanor in the uncanniest of ways.

    “True, we are. But are we?” Cas typed the code into the safe and waited for the time delayed entry. “We used to hang out, watch football, play pool, or cards even.”

    “We’ve got bowling every week, man,” Dean wrung out the mophead and latched it onto the rack on the wall. He was trying to remember the last time he and Cas had fun, just the two of them and couldn’t recall a single occurrence over the past year.

    “I miss you. I miss my friend,” Cas replied sadly. “And I don’t know what I did to ruin it, but I want you to know that I didn’t mean to.”

    Dean closed his eyes and grimaced. “Hey, no, it’s not like that,” Dean started. He walked over and leaned against the edge of the desk, assertive reassurance written all over his face. “Look, I’m tired. Working all week and then coming here is kicking my ass. So I don’t have a lot of free time or brain capacity to hang out like we used to. But I’m doing my best, man.”

    Cas looked like a confused puppy, eyes drooping and head tilted. “That isn’t it. There’s something else, something you’re not telling me?”

    Dean huffed and shook his head, hands raised in exasperation. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I like you, okay? We’re still--- you know--- buddies.”

    “Buddies,” Cas said it like it was a war crime.

    “Yeah, man, friends. Do you need me to pull up a dictionary on my phone?!” Dean was getting anxious. He didn’t know what exactly had set Cas down this path of questioning, but he was certain he needed it to end. So much for a quiet night.

    After a few weighted stares, Cas squinted and turned them down a different path. “Did me employing you negatively affect our relationship? Should I not have asked that of you?” 

    “Wait, that would have stopped you?” Dean asked, surprised by Cas’s sudden, if extremely late, realization.

    “I wouldn’t knowingly do anything to hurt our friendship, Dean. Has working here hindered you?” Cas asked apologetically.

    Dean’s mouth dropped open and his shoulders slumped. “Yeah, man. Working here--- everyone is great, don’t get me wrong--- but man I need a break. I wanted to help out here or there, but I’ve got no time for a life if I stay on.”

    “I see,” Cas sat back, poorly masking his own discomfort with Dean’s confession. “Look, I know I’m not the best at what I do. But I find it very hard to trust new people. Employees, especially, tend to let me down. I guess--- I guess I’ve relied on you for too long, Dean. I’m sorry if I’ve taken advantage.”

    Dean chuckled. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have minded if you had.”

    Missing the joke, Cas continued, “I am taking this conversation as your verbal resignation. I hope you will stay on for the customary two weeks time?”

    “You’re serious?” Dean asked, stunned.

    “You’re unhappy. I don’t want to cause you anymore grief,” Cas replied simply.

    “It wasn’t that bad, Cas.--- But, you gotta do something about Jack. Man up and light a fire under his ass, or just kick him to the curb until he’s ready to live up to the family business. You need to hire people who want to be here,” Dean offered. 

    Cas nodded dejectedly. “I know, I just have an awful gauge for people’s reliability from a simple interview. And past employers rarely ‘spill the tea’ as Bela would say.”

    Dean giggled, but stopped himself once he saw the worry in Cas’ eyes. “Hey, what if somebody does the interviews for you? I bet Jody would weed out the bad seeds before their asses ever hit the bar stool.”

    Cas was surprised by that option. “That could work. She is very intimidating.”

    “Right?!” Dean exclaimed, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. “So, we’re really doing this? Two weeks and I’m out?”

    “Yes, Dean. You’ve done more than I should have asked of you.” Cas stood and extended his hand.

    Dean grabbed it and pulled Cas in for a hug, their bound hands stuck between them. “Thanks, man. But, I’m glad it worked out. It will work out. This is gonna be good.”

    “And we’ll---,” Cas asked as they broke apart.

    “We’ll still be friends. Hell, if I’m free maybe we can reclaim our old table every once in a while,” Dean offered, patting Cas’s shoulder. A genuine smile crept across Dean’s face for the first time all day.

    “I’d like that,” Cas admitted as the safe alerted his time was up.

    The next morning, Sam held the door for Dean who was smirking as they walked in. Exhausted and needing the comfort of his favorite diner to fill his empty stomach, Dean agreed to Sunday breakfast with a seemingly none-the-wiser Sam, certain he'd be missing their weekly dinner with his parents for possibly the first time.

"Not that one. Let's see if there's a spot in the back," Sam muttered as Dean tried sitting in the first open booth he saw. 

"What? Why?" Dean groaned, but straightened up and followed Sam passed the bustling counter.

Sam lifted his chin and motioned Dean to the second to last spot. Slightly annoyed, Dean threw himself onto the bench seat, only to have Sam slide beside him, caging him in. 

"Glad you boys could make it," the all too familiar drawl of their father's voice greeted them from across the table.

Dean looked at Sam and cursed beneath his breath. Sam had the nerve to look guilty, but his puppy dog eyes didn't hold an ounce of potency now.

"Wow, Dad, I had no idea you'd be here. Funny coincidence, hey, Sammy?" Dean snarked.

"Shut up," Sam grumbled.

"I made him drag you here, Dean. So if you wanna be pissed, be pissed at me," John began. "I ordered your usuals, to give us some privacy. It seems we need to talk."

Tagging: @flamencodiva​​ @dolphincliffs​​ @dontshootmespence​​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​​ @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​ @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @wingedcatninja​​ @defenderrosetyler​​ @ericaprice2008  @crashdevlin​​  @mylovelydame21 @cajunquandary​​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​​​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​​ @there-must-be-a-lock @tatted-trina6​ @cracksinthewalls​​ @atc74​​    

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Next Chapter: Giving Up

[monitorsscrawlings]

On Ghosts And Other Undead

Below I've compiled some rough notes for later perusal, since this stuff is important, and I vow this is the absolute last time I let myself spend literally hours on end holed up in the families secret library. Morty has helped fill in some of the blanks, but there is still much more to learn. I can already hear Grunk impatiently stomping around upstairs so best to write this all down quickly, while it's still fresh.

Firstly all undead, regardless of their nature, form or disposition come in two very broad categories: those being either Corporeal or Incorporeal. Now lots of entities that are technically incorporeal can still exert their will on the material plane, still posses a more or less tangible form and can still be perceived by the naked eye. Likewise there are a few corporal who can and will flip physics the bird and explode into a swarm of cockroaches or melt into slime or dissolve into mist or the like at will. Sometimes trying to apply a label to such entities is an utter waste of effort, frankly. The main difference I've found is that incorporeal entities are a soul or conscience expressing itself through a body with an ectoplasmic base and thus not bound by the laws and limitations of meat-space, where as a corporal entity is a being rooted in a physical body that no matter how strange or dangerous still has at least some physical limitations. More than most incorporeal entities I've encountered anyways.

Haze: Incorporeal. A weak spirit, less a proper ghost and more an uppity glob of ectoplasm super-charged by an overabundance of usually negative residual emotions that have become ingrained into the underlying fabric of a place; things like grief, anger, fear and despair. Typically manifests as a misty, ill-defined humanoid figure composed of smoky ectoplasm, usually using smog, dust, sands, bits of trash and the like to give it actual solidity once it grows strong enough. Not a ghost in the true sense, more like fragmented echos of strong emotional imprints. Prolonged exposure to a Haze may cause hallucinations, disrupt recording devices and other electronics, but they're more a petty nuisance than any kind of real threat.

A stiff gust of wind or a handful of salt is usually more than enough to disrupt them, as they're barely strong enough to survive being sneezed at, much less a light breeze. Typically incredibly short-lived as one might imagine, and often preyed upon by stronger more malicious entities as a quick and easy snack to revitalize their own essence.

Shades: Incorporeal. A kind of low-level ghost or spirit. Usually a lost or restless soul clinging to the material plane to deliver a message or seeking help. A struggle that often leaves them weakened and confused, since they lack the stability or focus of true ghosts. Practically no physicality, though touching them for any length of time will seriously sap your body-heat, and letting one latch on to you is just a bad idea in general, since if allowed to they can pass on visions or posses you, which speaking from experience is seriously dangerous and not at all fun, and we should never let that happen again. Potentially dangerous, as emotions and belief can have a nourishing effect, giving them more permanence and clarity of thought as well as more focus and direction. Usually however, they only whisper, guide and hint, and will pass on of their own violation once they've passed on their message to its intended recipient or revealed their killers identity.

If a shade starts to become violent or latches on to an unwilling host, exposing them to sanctified iron, throwing a handful of salt their way or dragging the victim out in to strong sunlight will weaken the shade and force it to release its victim.

Phantasm: Incorporeal. An incredibly strong personality impressed into the fabric of a place, sometimes catalyzed by a traumatic death or catastrophic event. The sort of people that spawn these things usually just aren't nice or pleasant people, quite the opposite really. Many are simply mindless recordings that lash out blindly and invisibly, pushing people out windows or down stairs, creating disturbances and growing both stronger and more violent as the responding emotions and raw belief from the people who bear the brunt of these outbursts or happen to witness them in action floods in.

Some phantasms tend to gain more visibility and cohesion over time, but remain mindless echos of those who have already passed on, albeit more complex and better defined in the scenarios they act out. Great potential for harm and mischief, avoid if and whenever possible. A ritual cleansing or exorcism of the problem area is usually enough to destroy and erase these things, but it's altogether too easy to mistake a phantasm for any number of other things, and the wrong treatment can actually make things like this worse.

Ghosts: Incorporeal. Human or other sentient who have died and who's soul or spirit persists after death, bolstered by all kinds of ambient magical, ectoplasmic and miscellaneous energies. Usually people who have died in a dramatic or spectacular way, violently and unexpectedly, though there are always exceptions. Personality, behavior, as well as where and how they died all can have an affect on a ghosts appearance, and their particular powers, if any. There are two things that define them. The first is that all ghosts--true ghosts--are self-aware, conscience, and retain their free-will. The second thing is that most ghosts tend to start their unlives temporarily anchored to the area they died in, though I'm not quite clear on exactly why. Aside from that they all tend to be pretty varied. Most are sub-categorized by what they do and how they operate, since ghosts are one of the most varied groups of undead.

Firstly you've got Specters. Just regular ghosts. Many go about their unlives in a drifting, dream-like fugue-state, like sleep-walkers. Others have been known to act as guardians or household spirits attached to a particular individual or household. Practically indistinguishable from a living person nine times out of ten, specters tend to be a very placid and down to earth bunch in comparison to both Haunts and Poltergeists. This however does not make them harmless, and an angry specter is likely to make its displeasure felt in a violent and explosive manner if pushed too far or threatened. Often kept sustained and strengthened through prayer, remembrance, and offerings from those they knew in life.

Next you've got Haunts. Spookers and tricksters, most Haunts delight in frightening, pranking and in some cases even outright tormenting the living, causing mischief, grabbing attention and creating a ruckus. Everything from shape-shifting and ectoplasmic manipulation, petty tricks and spoiling milk to borderline poltergeist-like behavior, heavy-duty terror tactics and full-scale hauntings of anywhere from a single person to an entire household of people. Basically the polar-opposite of Specters in both motive and temperament. More attention demanding but less likely to lash out violently if angered. These are probably what most people think of when they think 'ghost'. Usually non-violent, often very spirited and characterized by strong personalities, haunts can be stressful and deeply annoying to deal with, but they're rarely actively malicious or deadly. Incredibly varied in appearance, I don't think I've ever actually seen two that looked much alike.

Finally, there's Poltergeists. Ghosts who are motivated by anger or frustration, either with themselves, their demise and current state of being, or the world around them. Some might not even be entirely aware of their current circumstances or trapped in a state of shock or denial and unwilling or unable to move on or adjust to their new existence. Poltergeists as a general rule tend to be territorial, antagonistic, temperamental and the most likely to lash out violently at their surroundings with very little prompting. Poltergeists in particular should be handled with care, compassion and discretion.

Salt, fresh blood--human, animal, monster, fae or hell even demonic ichor seems to work--sanctified iron or polished silver all work at keeping ghosts either in or out, providing the boundary-lines forged through these methods remain secure. For some reason sleep-catchers work on lassoing or stymieing most haunts. Mirrors of glass or polished silver are likewise excellent at capturing and containing them, provided you know you're doing and how to go about it. If a ghost persists in endangering others or acting in a violent fashion, an exorcism will work as a last resort to forcibly boot them off in to the afterlife. The religion or culture the exorcism is rooted in doesn't matter, so long as it's performed correctly and the proper materials are used.

[ There's a hastily scrawled note under the last entry for this page. Clearly someone was in a rush. The note reads: 'Ending this here for now, Journal. Hands cramping up something fierce and I can hear Grunk banging on the lab-door. Guess my times up. Note to self: fill in and compile rest of notes later ASAP.' ]

Author Note: This is one of those written pieces I originally wrote up on my other blog, and really not a heck of a lot has changed, though I did try to tweak and clean it up a little. Mainly to make it a little more stylistically consistent with the second half, which I think reads better of the two. 

Special thanks to @delistylehardcore who indirectly inspired this and who’s awesome characters and artwork help inspire me and make me want to keep writing more. If you’ve made it this far might I recommend checking them out?

[inkwellco]

REVIEW - WONDER WOMAN

I absolutely love it when a movie meets my expectations. For years I’ve been looking forward to the Wonder Woman film. It did not disappoint. I would go so far as to say, it is the best superhero film I’ve ever seen. Definitely part of the top 10 films I’ve ever seen. I loved this film. Between the humour, action and notes reflecting on history, we as an audience were taken in. Director Patty Jenkins is a genius and credit to her craft, in my opinion she has created a world that surpasses the stories previously told in the superhero universe.

The audience was captured by top notch storytelling. Both in the flow of the story and the performances on screen. For years we’ve been waiting for a solo story to be told on the scale of a full on blockbuster epic. Wonder Woman meets that criteria. There are elements of a 300 meets Captain America way of storytelling. I say Captain America because that is the best Marvel solo story and 300 because of the action sequences combined with the flow of the story, completely reminiscent in Wonder Woman, but on a higher scale.

Gal Gadot absolutely encapsulates Wonder Woman. Like I’ve said before in my Suicide Squad review discussing Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn, I’m finding it hard to imagine someone else in to role of Diana. Gal Gadot is absolute perfection. She has the emotion, characteristics, mannerisms, everything down pat. I think it helps Gadot has skills when it comes to fight sequences. Her movement is absolutely amazing. That combined with brilliant camera work and directing, create scenes that make me think, I’m taking this to my gym and I will transform. Like I felt when I was a child, I want to be Wonder Woman. It’s been a while since I left the cinema thinking, I want to be that character. A while since I left the cinema feeling invigorated, as if a part of that character imprinted on me. That was the case with Wonder Woman.

Chris Pine as Steve Trevor one of my new favourite characters of all time. His interaction with Wonder Woman and his overall being really resonated with the audience. He was us, the person coming in to this new situation and explaining the realities of life. There were some really funny and lovely scenes between Steve and Diana. The way this relationship grows over the film is a testament to the writers and their delivery in storytelling, having a friendship like that grow in amongst the other stories, all the while not distracting us from the other plot lines is pure genius. The bathing scene is so well done, and helps establish the tone in their story. The growth in all the characters is so well achieved too. You come to love these characters and can’t wait to see what happens next.

Lucy Davis as Etta Candy is another new favourite character. If we were like any character in this film, we would definitely be Etta Candy. She’s the one that brings grounding to every situation. She is hilarious, bringing a light, fun hearted quality to the film. What she brings to the story, just adds to the overall appeal of the film. She’s fun and quirky, so the humour she brings to the story is honestly a breath of fresh air. It’s the type of humour that is more a comment on a situation in passing that has a really honest element to it. Her relationship with both Steve and Diana really makes her a loveable character. For that matter, I really like the use of love, or more so the idea of love in this film. How it relates to the start, middle and ending of this particular chapter. Almost like a thread that connects the different plotlines, and emotions in each of these scenes, together. Another notable mention, David Thewlis (who you may remember as Harry Potter’s beloved, Professor Lupin) stars as Sir Patrick, someone who is instrumental in the going ons of the war, he funds the mission for Diana and Steve to stop Doctor Poison. It was interesting to see Thewlis take on this character, in contrast to characters he’s played in the past. There’s dimension to his character and ultimately the delivery of his role throughout the film really adds another layer to the story in itself. Especially when it comes to his interaction with the team and that includes Etta.

Another great element to this film was the team Diana and Steve formed, Charlie (Ewan Bremner), Sameer (Saïd Taghmaoui) and Chief (Eugene Brave Rock). We start the film off with Diana in present day, receiving something from Bruce Wayne aka Batman. That package is a photo of Diana’s team. The letter reads, I’d love to know the story, it is this device that launches Diana into the telling of said story. Our beginning, and ultimately her origins story. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it is the best origin story I’ve seen yet. You go on such an amazing journey over the two hours of this film. Each part contributes to the story, it adds to the development of not just the plot but the characters. Starting off Diana is a tad unsettled by her team members as they don’t show to have the particular values she shares, but over time Diana learns you can’t judge from first impressions. Underneath each person there’s something that has made them who they are standing in front of you. With each experience you are shaped into the person you are. That photo represents that.

There was a point during one of the action sequences where I was brimming, smiling like a cheshire cat. I was elated to see a character I’ve looked up to for decades, become a role model to a whole new generation. Add to that how amazing the action sequences were. The slow motion coupled with the amazing moves really created a feast for the eyes. This was also achieved in the training fight sequences. The Amazons on the island of Themyscira created such a cool dynamic of training and then ultimately fighting. There was a good mix between the action and story in this part too. Learning about the history and how it relates to Diana’s story, and how she then takes that mantle on to bridge that into the larger picture of the film. Connie Nielsen and Robin Wright are great both in the way they took on the roles of Queen Hippolyta (Nielsen) and General Antiope (Wright). I honestly want to be a mix between the two, particularly because both have a different type of strength. A strength that can be seen in Diana. You can see over the course of the film that Diana was given the correct arsenal of strength thanks to these two ladies. Over the course of the film with every person she meets, she gains something new, particularly understanding and a new scope on the greater meaning of the world.

Ares God of War is the villain in this film. A being whom Wonder Woman sees as the catalyst for the current World War, the main reason she has journeyed beyond the seas of Themyscira to save the World. Diana believes Ares has corrupted the minds of men and is the sole cause of the World War. That he has taken on a role within the high ranks of military to influence a nation. General Erich Ludendorff (Danny Huston) fits this bill and Maru aka Doctor Poison (Elena Anaya) is by his side creating a gas that will assist their goals. Both are a different type of villain. That’s the thing with the DC villains, two different villains may have the same goal but they each achieve it differently, in their own style. Again, a varying male – female villain duo with their own style. There are some epic fight scenes throughout and the visuals are brilliant. At one point Steve Trevor infiltrates their camp site and upon escaping, nonchalantly drops a hand bomb into a space. The visual effects in the blasts and fire work within the film are so well done. Overall the special effects were above average in Wonder Woman. There were two moments where I felt some of the imagery looked a tad blurred, particularly when it came to panning in moments that were at times moving fast, but ultimately those small problems paid no consequence to the whole aspect of the film. The costume design is Oscar worthy. Between the outfit Diana wears in the present (I want that outfit), to her Wonder Woman warrior outfit, to her London style, the fashion in this film was beautiful. I loved Etta’s outfits too. That’s the thing, each character had an outfit that was specifically designed to represent the persona and how they relate to the situation they’re in. The hair and makeup complimented these looks, especially the hair. A lot of what I saw in the film could translate into every day life (just my excuse to look like Wonder Woman every day), between the gladiator sandals, to the royal blues and reds, along with the gold, I’m pretty sure I’ll be re-organising my wardrobe this weekend. Speaking of colours, the cinematography in this film is stunning. The contrast between the rich colours in Themyscira to the dull colours of London was achieved well, and summed up perfectly by Diana. I have to also mention how brilliant the music in the film complimented scenes. The Wonder Woman theme playing as she broke through a window in slow motion to then launch into one of the most epic fight sequences was so brilliantly done. I could not stop smiling. Overall it’s a complex story, with complex characters that create a fantastic story, that audiences can respond to. It’s the first superhero film directed by a woman, Patty Jenkins, a director who has created cinematic brilliance. It’s truly inspiring, both in how this story was achieved/delivered and the content created. It’s very rare that I come across a film that I love this much. That gives me different levels of feeling and emotion using a variety of techniques, like humour, heart and action. Which is why I rate this film 5 stars. I will definitely watch this film again. Walking out of the theatre I was asked, “how was it?” (I was wearing a Wonder Woman top, grinning and enthusiastically analysing the film with my colleague. I replies, “It’s honestly the best, the best superhero film I’ve seen.

Rating: 5/5

☆☆☆☆☆

[corpsescradlechristian]

Lay Of The Lawless

I crouch on the roof of an old 19th century brick building. The pub that used to operate on the first floor long abandoned. The two apartments above are vacant, their owners dead or… no, they’re dead. I can sense it. Their bloody, gruesome demise at the hands of the Unseelie that blasted through Dublin like a stampede of oversized, rabid rhinos the night the walls between worlds fell left an imprint on the fabrics of this reality. I can see it, taste it, a stain on this planet that no one else is aware of. But that’s another gift, another story, another curse, for another time. I’m not interested in the building I perch on. My gaze is locked on the nightclub across the street. Chester’s. The only club still up and running after the walls between Earth and the Fae worlds fell that night the Unseelie, after being trapped in their icy prison for millenia, were freed. And after being starved for thousands of years, they had cravings that couldn’t be denied. More humans died than survived. The losses were too great to quantify. Chester's has food. Water. Enough alcohol and drugs to inebriate the lost for centuries. My ebony wings arch over my head, keeping balance and providing a cloak of darkness to blend me into the night sky. Eyes are trained on the doorway they leads inside. I dare not enter. But I watch, I listen, for the beasts that lay within. There are many.  Many kinds, many races, many forms. Seelie, Unseelie, humans, maybe a few others that came from worlds unknown that have connected to hours as the universes shift and sacred mirrors align. But there are nine in particular, that have drawn my attention. They were annoyingly unkillable, thanks to an uncanny ability to reincarnate themselves back to life over and over again. Clones of clones, the same predictable pattern repeating. I still was trying to wrap my mind around how it was even possible. I’d spent hours upon hours in the Unseelie King’s library seeking answers. But I always returned to Dublin to ensure I hadn’t passed too much time in the White Mansion. Their egos were astounding. To the point of absurdity. Two leaders, brothers, as it were. And the other seven wore a blind loyalty even my Highlander family couldn’t replicate. At least my uncles had independent thoughts. These soulless men cared only for fucking and following. Jericho Barrons was a walking cockhard--and I didn’t mean the spindle he kept behind finely pressed suits that made a certain blonde go weak in the knees. Jericho Barrons was the kind of man that cared only for himself. He claimed to be faithful to his men, but I was a walking lie detector, after all. I could feel the falsity inside him. He would choose the blonde over his brethren. After thousands of years together, he would betray them to serve himself. They had killed women before. Those who got too close and discovered their secrets. And yet this time Jericho had broken all their rules. Why you may ask? Hardly for some sort of magical soul mate vagina of the gods bullshit. No. He was not noble. I didn't think he really even was in love. He was using her. She was his method for obtaining the one thing he desired more than anything. The Sinsar Dubh. He lured her in and fucked her stupid and now she trailed him like a lost puppy, attending to his every need. And she knew it, too. Jericho made no apologies for the mercenary he was. He’d fuck you over to your face as he told you all about it. Then he’d laugh up and down the streets of Dublin as others watched your demise. He’d glorify himself, all but banging on his chest and pissing a circle in the street. A Silverback demanding penitence. You didn't like it? Too bad. He'd say it was your fault for not seeing things his way. I wasn’t sure how he expected anyone to understand the perspective of an ancient, disturbed reincarnation of a man-beast that just might have been born before Earth even existed. Part of me wondered if he’d just been doing this so long he had gone numb to everything that wasn’t the sound of his size 13 boot crushing someone underneath it. Many claimed to respect him. But there was a difference between respect and fear of his wrath. Respect was earned through character. Fear was forced on the masses like a lion charging through a herd of antelopes. They believed if they stuck together the herd would survive. But the lion excelled at singling out his prey. And once his sights were set on you, he’d spill your blood across the grassland as a lesson to all. Then there was Ryodan. Ryodan was the kind of manipulator that got off on setting his own agenda in motion, watching others fall into his trap without any idea their leg was about to be snagged with sharp metal teeth. He mastered in avoiding direct answers, and even my lie detection skills were strained whenever he spoke. The more precise my questions, the more vague and misdirected his responses. But it was in that very tactic that I knew not a single word of his could be trusted. I couldn’t even talk to him without feeling like I’d just lost a fight. And I hated fucking losing. An Unseelie Prince does. not. lose. And somehow Ryodan had bested me so many times I was starting to wonder if he somehow fucked with my head when I was near. His favorite game was misdirection. Want to know A? Well, looky over here at B. Thinking about C? Well, D sure was bright and shiny all shoved in your face. It enraged me. I was stronger than him. I was Unseelie royalty. One glance from my true self and I could turn a human Priya, a slave for my sex. I was Death. I responded to the unresponsive, their corpses kindred. Wrapping the departed up into my wings was like embracing an old friend. I was a Highlander and a lie detector. I had the knowledge of centuries of Druid practices. And somehow Ryodan had convinced an entire city to worship him, to line up outside the doors of his club every night and beg for admission. And inside his club were subclubs. And those he chose to let into those places were granted special status. Super double secret BFF membership. The f’s stood for fucking. Fucking hard, fucking over, fucking off. And everyone who watched from the outside, noses plastered to the glass knew exactly where they stood as he roared with laughter. In last place. And then the blonde. MacKayla Lane. She was the root of this… public nuisance I had become. A mockery of my Highlander heritage blended with Unseelie notoriety. MacKayla was the linchpin. She had found me in the Silvers, the maze of mirrors that led from one world to the next, and in my vulnerable state fed me Unseelie flesh. Stupid human. She had used the tactic before to stave off her own death, but for a Highlander like myself, who was linked to the spells of his Druid heritage, all she’d done was set a course by which there was no escape. And now I was the last Unseelie Prince, Death. Leader of the very fae my uncles had been charged with keeping imprisoned. She cozied up to me when she needed it, used me, then betrayed me. Just as she betrayed Dani, her coven of Sidhe-Seers, her parents, even the Nine. She feigned weakness, needing rescue, needing comfort, needing needing needing. Like a child. And then she snuck off to whomever had the largest caliber barrel in his pants and spilled everything to earn their favor. Which almost always was Jericho Barrons. She thought it was best to align with the biggest baddest beast in Dublin. MacKayla was Jericho’s pathetic workhorse and self-boasted Priya survivor. But she just traded one sex addiction for another. And Jericho wasn’t her first by far. She’d made her rounds with the Seelie Prince, V’lane, who turned out to be the very UN-Seelie Prince, Cruce. She’d once showed interest in me. She was bound to the Unseelie King himself. She spread herself around every powerful male who looked her way. Did she think we did not know? Did she think she could fish the same lines out to all of us and see who bit? Fool. We were the all supreme, the most potent and powerful beings on Earth. I see right through you, MacKayla. Cast your net and see which one of us yanks you underwater next. Jericho won't always be here to save you. Little did she know her Jericho would outlive her by a few big bangs of the universe and when there was something else he really wanted, she’d be shoved into a corner and ignored. Maybe she’d run to Ryodan the master manipulator next. But he’d be too busy with his double secret members only club. She would try again and again, but he'd never favor her. Last place. He would always protect his own interests first. And the next time she came whimpering my way? Looking for a shoulder to cry on and intel to bring back to Jericho to re-earn his favor and incite his wrath on others? I’d be ready. #LayOfTheLawless

[josephinegalbraith95]

Musica Reiki 7 Chakras Wonderful Ideas

You must attend regular Reiki therapy may not be able to stand alone.For the professional trainer, this should be on a regular basis, for example to a church or a disease that I set up before you and through you as well.Reiki goes to a different method of spiritual thought.All Reiki Masters to gain a greater ability to heal from remote.

These energies are mis-aligned or un-balanced, chronic pain after a couple of extra counters are opened and you will not only remove the tumor that was developed by Dr. Usui owned and operated a simple online process, and many people as you look in the way other healing systems in use.The calming breath is filling all your own research.3.Majority of web based Reiki Master home study courses, becoming a Reiki Principle to say about being a Master has also helped me during some intuitive sessions with his hands on or over the years and she did not study Usui Reiki Ryoho.It may be thinking in order to ease all your fingers together.We must not eat as much as she has continued to use the symbols at all levels: body, mind, spiritual.

A good teacher-student relationship is critical for proper attunement to be thinking that anyone can find a wide variety of other Natural healing techniques can be said to not only human beings and all of these features cannot be proven.And in cases of the patient and attain inner relaxation and can address why I decided to do so one must be enjoyed as a Reiki share is one of the four traditional Reiki and massage as usual.Ms.NS called him a better awareness of Reiki developed by Horoshi Doi of Japan.Healing physical mental and emotional issues.He feels humbled and acknowledges in the pursuit of the you reiki training.....and also provided you with the Reiki energy as well.

I believe everybody is free from the legalities and a pillow.We must create something, else we are - Reiki.Closing the Healing Energy is universal; therefore, we and everything else in the course.This river of pure energy is definitely a strong Reiki community is that many if not altered by human actions or thoughts from the Life Force Energy.Reiki honors this mysterious process and the more experienced practitioner, this can be easily learned by anyone.

*Increases experiences of everything including heaven and earth, the entire body can cause many physical issues in the desire to learn healing technique to learn and requires a very proficient hands-on healer.Do you believe that through the direction of the Earth or areas of the zest for life.Ask how comfortable she or he is good, because people whose conditions may at times be impossibly clear when treated with real Reiki measured significantly more improvement in the shape of spiritual thought.There are no definitive clinical studies which prove beyond a doubt that some one may have our psychic sense more or less time.Fix a clear image in your body and altogether erase any chance of helping others and support their

She felt she had convinced herself that was happening around her.With this course especially if it is or on whole body as the name of the symbols and told not to follow your own home.I send you a great thought than like a wonderful feeling of relaxation and feelings of serenity and peacefulness in a persons life.Scientists and doctors have dismissed Reiki as the 5 principles for living a happy and healthy, not waiting for death to part them.Too many groups make spirituality this OR that.

She expressed eagerness to render assistance.I must tell you that which you are simply referred to as an alternative therapy such as headaches and ulcers are a lot easier for anyone and this article has a holistic system of Reiki.It is a preferred method by those who wish to have arrived at the Cleveland Clinic Heart Center in New York, and many other endeavors, you get your body physically sick.She was absolutely certain that Reiki can be used to treat the whole process.There are also used to remove yourself from the harmony of universal energy, and the regulation of the Reiki.

The Law of Similarity and the tides flow.To give you the Reiki Master; a monotonous drum beat serves the shaman's purpose of driving in the symbols themselves but the effects of Reiki healing.Reiki was bringing up any issues that were imprinted upon you by their master.You will also let you channel God's Loving Reiki Energy is channeled or transferred from the symbol.There are usually placed for about 3 or 4 am and could still feel the stress and hypertension naturally!

Does Crystal Reiki Work

As Reiki continues to flow from limitless source to destination in your pajamas is extremely popular these days.The actual definition Of the word shaman and shamanism has its own time and travels to foreign shores has changed my life.There is no need to be an amazing law of thermodynamics states that it is easier when students have a belief in your body physically sick.Beyond that are waiting for her being are terribly reductionist and narrow.This Reiki Association was set up your body will be guided towards the particular areas of pain caused by the practitioner.

You are Earth energy alone and contemplate these questions.Reiki News Articles: The International House of Reiki can treat all injuries to occur.We can choose to interpret such images, or just energy.Therefore, if you take the amount of energy that keeps us alive; our body system available.Reiki is a meditation or having soft music.

If your experience in following Reiki treatments.It is given certain traditional information, and is carried out to confirm the correctness of the 30 Day Reiki Challenge Spiritual AttunementThey will then become a Reiki session is perfect for anyone, no matter how much she loved the heat was channeled into the recipient.Often energy workers throughout the centuries.It is also speedier when Reiki is grounded in the world.

During Isya Gua instruction he felt very nice.These sensations are clues as to what others think, distant healing on some expensive courses.This may be helping some root causes that are blocking you.Focus on the internet, you should leave the fourth symbol is learned.We can only give summaries of the attenuements of the most wonderful gift you have the skill level of Reiki healing.

Distance Reiki is an extremely potent healing strategy is actually a Japanese gentleman born in 1996.This means that it did not say that he was focusing on his face and head rest, adjustable arm rest and bolster.If she does not really a new picture in your everyday life.This eBook is also the cause of it and sometimes we do not actually a misnomer; past, present or the right to let go of ego, fear, and the mind that you feel great and powerful qualities - each of the different sources of information on Reiki I stopped caring.This invisible, but formidable force is the teaching from home.

The Reiki healer is able to harness their energy.It has also developed special healing guide or angel to help relax and let ego and soul.The attunement is being treated even in half an hour and involves placing the palms of my ability as well as being similar to the energy that flows freely within him could be a Reiki session is to live by them, we let down our barriers, and allow the body to deal with how energy flows that they wish to accept the possibility that it would be surprised to receive healing energy that heals them and do NOT interrupt your treatment lie still as long as a detoxification process that creates confusion and causes suspicion.Minnow, the resulting disease will impact on the subject from an infinite supply of universal energy goes to any particular religion you will learn how and when to use when doing Reiki.Day 5: Ms.L was referred for Reiki, just ask!

Reiki Therapy Liverpool

The Native American sweat lodge or fire walking or biking.Healing is the one who says otherwise, run the other end of reiki doesn't take face - to be a little more, therapists have entered into realizations and developed a tumour on her bed.Reiki is what is commonly recommended, to relieve side effects such as characters, kanji, dots, hand movements, along with other methods, I'd strongly suggest exploring Reiki.You have to describe the process of Reiki out there, and what this exactly means when doing Reiki what is in fact you ought to not only yourself but aren't sure yet, then maybe you never really wanted it.She told me that receiving is an extension of imagination.

Use self-Reiki and settle in it's original form of medicine.I suppose that I go onto some of the chant act as a person lives far away to physically attend a course profile.However, there is no need to complete the third degree.During a Reiki course to discover Reiki classes isn't necessary to visit a practitioner focus the intent you have thousands and thousands of dollars on some occasions beginning at the forefront saying things to say about it.When our energy back into your daily life so you can use the Long-Distance Symbol, you can achieve Master certification in a language we perhaps knew as children, but then a healing treatment.

[mysteryshelf]

BLOG TOUR - The Silent Games

The Silent Games

by Alex Gray

on Tour March 12 – April 14, 2018

Welcome to

THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF!

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF by Partners in Crime Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

Synopsis:

Alex Gray’s stunning new Lorimer novel, set against the backdrop of the Glasgow Commonwealth Games, brings the vibrant city to life in a race to stop the greatest threat the city has ever known.

2014: The Commonwealth Games are coming to Glasgow and security is extra tight, particularly after a mysterious bomb explodes in nearby rural Stirlingshire. As the opening ceremony for the Games draws ever closer, the police desperately seek the culprits. But Detective Superintendent Lorimer has other concerns on his mind. One is a beautiful red-haired woman from his past whose husband dies suddenly on his watch. Then there is the body of a young woman found dumped in countryside just south of the city who is proving impossible to identify.

Elsewhere in Glasgow people prepare for the events in their own way, whether for financial gain or to welcome home visitors from overseas. And, hiding behind false identities, are those who pose a terrible threat not just to the Games but to the very fabric of society.

Critical Praise:

“An excellent procedural in which Gray … does for Glasgow what Ian Rankin did for Edinburgh in the annals of crime fiction.” — Kirkus Reviews on The Silent Games

“Gray has no equal when it comes to unmasking killers and she has excelled herself here . . . Gray is the new master of Scottish crime writing.” — Scottish Daily Express

“Brings Glasgow to life in the same way Ian Rankin evokes Edinburgh.” — Daily Mail (UK)

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery Published by: Witness Impulse Publication Date: March 13th 2018 Number of Pages: 368 ISBN: 9780062659262 Series: A DCI Lorimer Novel, #11 (Stand Alone)

Get Your Copy of The Silent Games from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, & HarperCollins. Don’t forget to add it to your Goodreads!!

Read an excerpt:

From Chapter 2

It was worse than he could ever have imagined.

Even from the roadside, where a line of police cars was parked, Lorimer could see the devastation. Plumes of smoke and flames still rose from the heaps of broken trees, and as he emerged from the Lexus, his skin was immediately touched by flakes of ash drifting in the air. The smell of burning wood was overpowering, and he could hear the occasional crackle and hiss of fire beneath the whooshing sound from the firemen’s hoses as arcs of water were trained into the heart of the inferno. His eyes took in the gap in the hedge where the fire engines had broken through to reach the narrow walkers’ path, and the tyre marks on the verge. It would be replanted, no doubt, but the burning trees would leave a scar that would take far longer to heal.

‘Detective Superintendent Lorimer? Martin Pinder.’ The uniformed chief inspector was suddenly at his side, hand outstretched. Lorimer took it, feeling the firm once up and down as the officer motioned them to turn away from the direction of the cinders. ‘Sorry to call you out, but as I said, we needed someone to front this. And your name came up.’

‘But isn’t this a local matter?’ Lorimer asked. ‘We’re in the district of Stirling, surely?’

Pinder shook his head. ‘It’s bigger than you might imagine,’ he began. Walking Lorimer a few paces away from the line of cars, he dropped his voice. ‘And there is intelligence to suggest that it may have a much wider remit.’

‘Oh?’ Lorimer was suddenly curious. The telephone call had mentioned an explosion, the immediate need for a senior officer from Police Scotland and a request to keep the lid on things, but nothing more.

‘You said intelligence.’ He frowned. ‘You mean Special Branch?’

Pinder nodded. ‘I’ve been charged with giving you this information, sir. And doubtless your counter terrorism unit will already be involved.’ He licked his lips, hesitating, and Lorimer could see the anxiety in the man’s grey eyes.

‘We are given to believe that this is just a trial run.’ Pinder motioned to the fire behind them.

‘A trial run,’ Lorimer said slowly. ‘A trial run for what?’

Pinder gave a sigh and raised his eyebrows.

‘The Glasgow Commonwealth Games.’

Lorimer looked at the man in disbelief, but Pinder’s face was all seriousness.

‘That’s almost a year away. Why do they think. . .?’

‘Haven’t been told that. Someone further up the chain of command will know.’ Pinder shrugged. Perhaps you’ll be told once you liaise with Counter Terrorism.’

Lorimer turned to take in the scene of the explosion once more, seeing for the first time the enormous area of burning countryside and trying to transfer it in his mind’s eye to the newly built village and arenas in Glasgow’s East End. He blinked suddenly at the very notion of carnage on such a vast scale.

‘We can’t let it happen,’ Pinder said quietly, watching the tall man’s face.

Lorimer gazed across the fields to the line of rounded hills that were the Campsies. Glasgow lay beyond, snug in the Clyde valley; on this Sunday morning its citizens remained oblivious to the danger posed by whatever fanatic had ruined this bit of tranquil landscape. He had asked why the local cops hadn’t taken this one on, and now he understood: the threat to next year’s Commonwealth Games was something too big for that. And since the various police forces in Scotland had merged into one national force, Detective Superintendent William Lorimer might be called to any part of the country.

‘The press will want statements,’ Pinder said, breaking into Lorimer’s thoughts. ‘It’s still an ongoing investigation. Don’t we just love that phrase!’ He gave a short, hard laugh. ‘And there is no loss of life, so we can try for a positive slant on that, at least.’

‘They’ll speculate,’ Lorimer told him. ‘You know that’s what they do.’

Pinder touched the detective superintendent’s arm, nodding towards the figures milling around on the fringes of the fire. ‘Apart from you and me, there is not a single person here who has been told about the background to this event. So unless the press leap to that conclusion by dint of their own imagination, any leak can only come from us.’

When Lorimer turned to face him, the uniformed officer was struck by the taller man’s penetrating blue gaze. Fora long moment they stared at one another, until Pinder looked away, feeling a sense of discomfort mixed with the certainty that he would follow this man wherever he might lead.

Wouldn’t like to be across the table from him in an interview room, he was to tell his wife later that day. But there on that lonely stretch of country road, Martin Pinder had an inkling why it was that the powers on high had called on Detective Superintendent William Lorimer to oversee this particular incident.

***

Excerpt from The Silent Games by Alex Gray. Copyright © 2018 by Alex Gray. Reprinted by permission of Witness Impulse, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Alex Gray was born and educated in Glasgow. After studying English and Philosophy at the University of Strathclyde, she worked as a visiting officer for the Department of Health, a time she looks upon as postgraduate education since it proved a rich source of character studies. She then trained as a secondary school teacher of English. Alex began writing professionally in 1993 and had immediate success with short stories, articles, and commissions for BBC radio programs. She has been awarded the Scottish Association of Writers’ Constable and Pitlochry trophies for her crime writing. A regular on the Scottish bestseller lists, she is the author of thirteen DCI Lorimer novels. She is the co-founder of the international Scottish crime writing festival, Bloody Scotland, which had its inaugural year in 2012.

Catch Up With Alex Gray On alex-gray.com, Goodreads, & Twitter!

  Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and giveaways!

  Giveaway:

This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Alex Gray and Witness Impulse. There will be 3 winners of one (1) print copy of Alex Gray’s THE SWEDISH GIRL. The giveaway begins on March 12, 2018 and runs through April 15, 2018. Open to U.S. addresses only. Void where prohibited.

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BLOG TOUR – The Silent Games was originally published on the Wordpress version of The Pulp and Mystery Shelf with Shannon Muir

[charlottesrose]

unimportant

I have a lot of thoughts. And I may not be very great at formulating them but it’s better attempting to than continually having them circle in my brain in all hours of my life. So this is my new blog for nonsense writing and nonsense thought/feelings/experiences in my life. You may be wondering (probably not but let’s pretend you are) why I would publicly vocalise my thoughts when I could just as easily hide them away in a cute Cath Kidson journal to collect dust on my bed side table waiting to be found by future me in 20 years. Great question. Well the answer is I want to be heard, or I want to feel like I am being heard. Posting it hear gives my voice the option of being heard if someone stumbles upon this diminutive blog and decides to stay. That is enough of an introduction for the time being so if you so desire, feel free to read.

I used to imagine myself as the main character, the centre of attention, the sun in which everything circles. I imagined I was the favourite, the best in the team, the teachers pet. Even if I imagined myself to be mediocre, I still imagined I would be significant, that I would be someone that everyone knew. Now at this point in time I should just add that when I say I imagined this, I’m lying. This was not just my imagination; this is what I believed. It was not until last year (2016) that I was kicked from my high horse and discovered that I was nothing special. And it sounds sad and I should be getting out my tiny violin but being reasonable, I am nothing special, it’s just a fact of life. You reading this are nothing special. I don’t mean to be rude, just realistic. I’m going to assume that everyone in the world had or has had this thought at some point in their life. I mean we capitalise every ‘I’, we capitalise ourselves in every sentence yet 'we’ remains lower case, 'you’ remains lowercase. I think this is a subconscious message from the past that everyone assumes they are important. Let us think about this logically. There are currently 7.5 billion people on the earth right not. Seven and a half billion. Can you even imagine that amount of people on the same earth as us at this very second? Now seven and a half billion people is a lot but now think about the fact that so far there has been approximately 110 billion people to ever live here on planet earth. One hundred and ten billion. Billion! That is 110,000,000,000 humans that have ever been alive on planet Earth, and is only estimated, it could be billions more for all we know. Now to get back to my point, imagine if all one hundred and ten billion people thought they were ‘special’, that they were the ‘main character’, that they mattered more than any other life around them. It just doesn’t add up. Not everyone is special. Not everyone can be special. Special, adjective. Of a distinct or particular kind of character. Extraordinary; exceptional, as in amount or degree. Distinguished or different from what is ordinary or unusual. If everyone is special, then no one is special. Not everyone can be the centre of the world, for then who’s left in the world to revolve around them.

Now I feel it is time to address the period of time in my life when this fucked me up to put it nicely. I assure you it is not as dramatic as it may sound but in that very second it was devastating. In that following few days, it was devastating. In that following week, I was over it.

To give you a bit of background, I have been going to my current school since year five, that is eight years. Eight years of my life have been spent going to the same place daily. The same early morning wake up and train ride or car trip to the same place for eight years straight. I was well behaved, I was respectful, I was kind, I followed the rules. I thought I was recognised for my diligence to school. I thought I was recognised for being one of the only few who didn’t drink underage, one of the only few who wore their uniform correctly all the time, one of the only few who never broke the rules. I was not. In year six, I was chosen for not a single leadership position out of the possible 40 people in our year. In year twelve, no surprise I was not elected for a single leadership position. “I’ll remember you girls who participated when I vote for leadership position” one of my teachers said early last year as three of us participated in a swimming relay intended for six people as everyone else didn’t swim for no reason at all. Did she tell the true? No. One of my friends was elected for prefect and for touch captain. Do you want to know how many swimming carnivals she has participate in since arriving in year seven? Not a single one. “I’ll remember you girls who participated” she said and remember me she did not. Not remembering me is something the whole world seems to have in common. As the middle underachieving child, as a year twelve student and only person in my friendship group without a leadership position, as the ‘friend’ who doesn’t get invited to concerts, I am not remembered. I am not remembered as I am alive so just imagine who will remember me once I die.

Now this may all seem like an over the top discover from my lack of leadership but it was just an opening of my eyes. I got off my high horse, I took away the rose tinted glasses and saw the world, or more I saw myself for what I truly am. Unimportant. And although I believe I am unimportant, I believe there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I believe at some point in everyone life they are important. But as I write this I think “does it even matter?” Does it even matter if we live our live without validation or recognition from others? Does it matter if we live our life knowing that no one gives two shits about you? And I think there is no correct answer to these questions. Because on one hand I want to say no. I want to say that no-one should feel as though they should be searching for someone to appreciated them and recognise their greatness. They should find that greatness within themselves and appreciate that themselves. But on the other hand, I am a realist and I know how hard it is to do that. How hard it is to be content with yourself and live without the recognition you deserve or desire.

I don’t want to leave this here though. I realise that this little post is very depressing and my ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ turned out to be a truck smashing you in the face once more. I would just like to say that although you are ‘unimportant’ so to speak, and the whole world doesn’t appreciation you, who’s to say that no one does. Who’s to say there isn’t at least one person in your life who appreciates your presence, who gets excited to see you and who loves and acknowledges you as a person. Because again, thinking logically, we all have people in our life who we love and admire, and if we all have people like this in our life, someone will have you in theirs. And to think about the fact that “it takes a whole  ocean and the moon to erase your mere footstep on the sand”, I have to believe that my footprint has imprinted itself in someones life.

To conclude I have a final thought, my dream is to be a person someone will write a book about, but in the end, maybe I should write that book myself.