От­сутствие эмпатии — оно не из-за недостатка воображения, скорее наоборот; оно потому, что Мордор — он всегда рядом, и в эту ледя­ную воронку не хочется даже заглядывать, даже думать о ней, чтобы не дай бог не при­тянуть к себе лишнего. Слишком много боли, слишком много страданий, мир ле­жит во зле, и на каждый чих не наздравствуешься. Представить себе детский дом, хоспис, мыканье по инстанциям, жизнь мальчика с ДЦП — нет, нет, о господи, нет, только не это. Воображение нам дано, чтобы мечтать об отпуске



"Morning, love," says Eames, head abruptly popping into view, so fast that he had to have been waiting. "How are we feeling?"

"Lousy," groans Arthur.

"Of course," says Cobb, sternly, head popping in from the opposite direction. "That's to be expected."

Arthur tries to sit up, and a bag of crushed ice falls onto what appears to be a large fleece blanket that has been tucked in around his shoulders.

"I'm getting some mixed messages here," says Arthur.

"The ice is Eames' doing," says Cobb.

"For your forehead," says Eames. "You get fevers when you don't sleep much, you know."

"And the blanket is from me," says Cobb. "Because your body temperature drops when you don't eat enough."

"Did you," says Arthur, "consider settling the debate by using the thermometer in the first aid kit."

"...We did," says Eames.

"...We used the thermometer," says Cobb. Their eyes wander, looking everywhere but directly at Arthur.

Arthur is beset by a creeping suspicion.

"It's... an oral thermometer," he says. "You put it... inside the mouth..."

There is a long silence.

"Oh, yeah," says Cobb. "Obviously."

"Definitely," adds Eames.

They cough in unison.

"Cobb," shouts Eames. "I need some help here, Cobb!"

Immediately Cobb comes barging back through the door, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"What happened," he demands.

"I think I'm going to molest him," whispers Eames, voice awed. "You need to stop me."

"Touch him and you live the rest of your life out in limbo," says Cobb.

"Too late," says Arthur.

"Eames," yells Cobb.

"I stopped, didn't I!" protests Eames. "Don't I get credit for exercising self-control!"

"Step back," says Cobb. "You sit in that chair over there, I'll sit in this chair over here, and you ask me for permission whenever you need to get up for anything."

"I don't even want to know what you'd be like with your actual children," says Eames, but takes a seat anyway.

"How are you doing," Cobb asks Arthur.

"Pretty well, considering," says Arthur.

"You just told me you felt lousy," interrupts Eames.

"That's because-- that's what the 'considering' is doing there," says Arthur. "You are what is being considered. Considering the presence and proximity of Eames, I am doing pretty well."

"This could be serious," says Cobb. "You need a diagnosis."

Yusuf is by profession a chemist, so really there's nothing very odd there. But they don't know where Ariadne has gotten her lab coat, or the stethoscope draped over the folds of her checkered scarf. As is usually the case with Ariadne, they are a little afraid to ask.

"Is the differential staff all present," calls Ariadne, rapping the whiteboard with a marker.

"I'm the only one on it," says Yusuf.

"All present, then," says Ariadne. "Right, Dr. Yusuf, list the patient's symptoms."

"Fever!" says Yusuf.

Fever, writes Ariadne on the whiteboard.

"Hunger!" says Yusuf.

"Dr. Yusuf," says Ariadne, "hunger due to not eating is not a symptom."

"Actually, fever is the only symptom," says Yusuf.

"This could be anything!" cries Ariadne. "It could be lupus!"

"It's never lupus," they add under their breath.

"Except when it is," says Yusuf. "Oh god, Dr. Ariadne, what if it's ebola?"

"What is it with you and ebola," says Ariadne.

"It's a damn scary disease," says Yusuf. "I've read about it online. It's airborne."

"I do not have ebola," yells Arthur from the couch.

"You don't know that," says Cobb.

"This is impossible!" Ariadne throws her marker down. "We'll have to start from the basics. Dr. Yusuf, hand me that anatomy book. We will begin by sketching a diagram of the patient's internal organs."

It takes her twenty minutes to get to the lungs.

"Would you mind hurrying up?" says Yusuf. "I don't think I can hold this book up for much longer."

"Precision is key," says Ariadne.

"No, it's not," says Yusuf. "You're not building a person."

Twenty minutes later, Ariadne has progressed to the small intestines, but there is something slightly strange about her picture.

"Dr. Ariadne," says Yusuf, "why is the intestine connected to the esophagus?"

"It's a Penrose Arthur!" says Ariadne, beaming.


The first time they met, it took twenty-eight seconds for Eames to start hitting on Arthur. It took a good five hours for Arthur to point a gun at Eames’ head.



The Revolution Will Not Be Civilized by the_ragnarok

т.е. глупо как-то,
я честно держалась подальше от фиков; картинки - да, сунуть нос в мету - это обязательно, а вот поди ж ты
и как всегда, почти наверняка это и не самый лучший



++ users.livejournal.com/_niece/177244.html?nc=29#...

(судя по комментам) как oказыв много нас, читавших и ничего так,выживших...:)
но на перечитать - это вряд ли, а вот- ..жениться надо на вдовах, ну и папенькино за обеден столом - а вот Катинька у нас грустна, в любви разочаровалась...- это помню


Dean still had a good grip on Sam as they crossed the parking lot, as if he thought Sam would run back to the crazy people if given a chance. "I can't believe... Of all the... Like you could take me in a fight..."

They reached the Impala and Dean finally let go of Sam's arm. Sam stood still for a moment, still struck slightly dumb by the proceedings, before he walked around to the passenger door. Movement from teh diner caught his eye. "Dean," he warned.

Dean turned and they both watched one of the other waitresses approach them. She had something in her hand, and Sam automatically knew what his was. He cleared his throat, avoided looking at Dean, and got into the car.

Sam couldn't hear what was said, but a minute later Dean got in the car with him, the pamphlet clutched in his hand. "You don't want to do anything stupid like talk about this, do you?"

"Oh, God, no!"

"Great. And, for the record, if we were, and you did, I would totally kick your ass."

"If we were, and I did-which I totally wouldn't, by the way-I would expect nothing less."

"Awesome. Let's go kill something."


на самом деле никакой больше меты - это последнее
///////of him not loving others enough or them not loving him enough is a circle of cause and effect in Dean`s mind.
Dean sure tries to love them as best he can, to do everything he believes they might want or need from him. He totally gives himself into the relationships with those he loves.

So when they still leave, he thinks it wasn`t enough. But he also thinks they didn`t care enough. Which in a way is even true, because they simply don`t care like he does. It is normal even in the closest of relationships not to submerge yourself totally in it but keep a part of yourself, retain your own identity apart from the other person.

Dean doesn`t do that, so it will always be seen as abandonment and betrayal when others can`t meet his standard. And I think he will view it at least partly as they just did not care about him the way he cared about them.
After all, if it was him and another person just like him, he would never leave himself

It isn`t their fault, of course, Sam and even John DO love him but the demon was right in that they don`t need him the way he does them- как чувствовала, пора закругляться, дальше все хуже и хуже , я ж не в жизнь себе столько фиков не найду, ничего жизнеутвержд давно не пишут



Dean doesn't seem particularly emotionally child-like to me. In some ways, he is immature - but in a way that I'd consider relatively normal immaturity rather than emotional stasis at the age of 5. He is emotionally damaged, obviously, which shows in a myriad of ways. He is extremely, almost ridiculously vulnerable to Sam (John, of course, is in another category altogether). He puts up a fairly ineffective and utterly transparent "tough front" as self-defence. He is tremendously needy, clingy and insecure, not just in his relationship with family members, but also when he falls in love with Cassie, which he does with an inevitable desperation and speed. And so on - but... none of those qualities seem particularly child-like to me
vs.I am certainly not trying to belittle Dean. I love him dearly!

In the case of Dean, there is little doubt that John effectively crushed any self-initiated play or thought after Mary’s death. He was focused on keeping the boys safe and that meant complete obedience to “the rules.” Particularly once John started demon hunting, Dean had to follow John’s orders in order to keep himself and Sam safe. Case in point, in the episode “Something Wicked,” Dean takes the initiative to go out to play a game while John is out demon hunting. As a result of this initiative, Sam is almost killed by the shtriga, and John insures that Dean internalizes that guilt completely. Even though Dean is a much older child by the time of those events, it is clear that this is not an isolated incident. As such, Dean remains trapped in the conflict of initiative vs. guilt. As a result, the Dean that we meet at the beginning of the series is reluctant to initiate any actions without either an order from Dad or an understood, unspoken permission from Dad. This behavior is so prevalent that Sam comments on it in the pilot when he asks Dean about going on a hunt by himself. While Dean has a flippant answer for Sam, in fact, Dean was acting under implicit orders from Dad when he went on the hunt – find the bad thing and kill it.

Thus, despite his chronologic age, Dean Winchester remains stuck in the developmental stages of a toddler as a result of the traumatic death of his mother combined with John’s dysfunctional parenting after Mary’s death However, for now, we will all just continue to enjoy the little boy trapped in that sexy man’s body.

Growing up I guess both brothers thought the other was the favourite

The violent murder of his mother is the axis upon which Dean’s entire persona turns. It is in the emotional context defined by this devastatingly destructive and world-view destabilizing event that John becomes the begin-all and end-all to a child who loses, in a single instant, every other stability in his life. This critical trauma not only strips Dean of his mother, but also of his every expectation that the world can be expected to play by any of the rules by which the world is supposed to play; and it does so at an emotionally vulnerable time when 5-year-old Dean has only just solidified his understanding of these axioms of reality as inflexible … an understanding that means they now shatter rather than bending to accommodate a restructuring of that which he has only newly taken as immutable fact.

So in once singularly violent event, Dean loses every place in the universe he can stand with any measure of confidence it will remain constant save one: His father. John becomes the only defined variable in an existence where every other variable is not only unknown, but also in a constant state of flux. And thus, John becomes Dean’s only touch point to the concepts of reality, or sanity, or safety. It is at that moment, for Dean, that it all became about the Dad.

I believe this is why Dean goes where he goes (emotionally speaking) in Devil’s Trap when he is begging his father not to let the Demon kill him. I do not find those tears to be a designed manipulation to reach his father inside the demon and motivate John to action. Neither do I find those tears to be a manifestation of pain or fear or despair or any other fracture of Dean’s stoic intention to endure. Rather, I find those tears to be one thing: the visual evidence of the internal regression of a 28 year old man to the 5 year old he was when his world changed forever into a world where only one thing could ever be fully trusted: the begin-all, the end-all, the Daddy.

I believe Dean’s way of expressing himself at that particular moment – the word choices, the tears, the expression – are all evidence that underneath all his bravada and courage and demon-hunting prowess he is still, and always will be, a five-year-old who believes with every fiber of his being that his dad can do anything, up to and including, de-possessing himself of a Demon upon request. John is, quite literally, the only God Dean has ever known, ever accepted, ever believed in. And when everything else is stripped away, Dean falls to his emotional knees and begs mercy of his God: Please don’t let the demon kill me, Daddy.

And it works because Jensen totally sells it with every ounce of his considerable acting skill

Just to be clear: I actually have no doubt that Dean loves Sammy more than John. Nor do I doubt that Dean would give up his life in a heartbeat for Sam out of nothing more than this intense brotherly love. However, his obsessive need to protect Sammy at all costs is driven not by that love, but rather by the fact that John’s First Commandment is to Protect Sammy.

а вот это совсем нет "If Dean’s motivation is to protect Sammy, he would have told Sam to shoot John, because they all know the greatest danger to Sam is that Demon. As long as the Demon lives, Sammy can never be truly protected. In choosing to let it live, Dean proves his ultimate motivation is not protecting Sammy, but rather serving the needs of his relationship with John, which requires that he not allow John to die, no matter the cost to let him live.

If Sam’s motivation is anything other than Dean, he would have shot John, because the only reason to not shoot John is because Dean so obviously needs that. Every other need of every other character is served by Sam shooting John. Only what Dean needs is served by not shooting him. For Sam, it is all about the Dean".- т/е/ вот так запросто - надо было убить отца"

They are certainly not the hallmarks of a well-adjusted and emotionally balanced person - all of them show that Dean is damaged. But for someone of his background, they seem inevitable to me - not indicative of emotional stasis at all, but merely reflecting the circumstances under which he grew up.

For example: His obsessive father and little brother (who was always firmly in the role of the one to be protected and cared for, and perhaps even coddled a bit) could never give him the attention, affection and reassurance that he is loved, no matter what, that he needed - the very attention, affection and reassurance that Sam received from Dean. Ergo, Dean is needy, clingy and starved for affection, and Sam is not

This is what I mean when I say I don't see these qualities as being the result of an emotional stasis at the age of five. To me, they are far more logical as the direct result of all of Dean's experiences - simply the psychological scars he bears in addition to the physical ones

In Dean's tendency to blame himself, I simply see a classic case of low self-esteem, which (sadly) is not restricted to any emotional age. It is not just children who seek the fault in themselves, sometimes taking this to a ridiculous degree - particularly when the alternative involves finding fault with those they love. So to me, this again is not indicative of a 5-year-old state of mind, though certainly of a man with severe emotional problems.


хей дей дино, дино хамудино

Я перечитала фиков, где все невозможно плохо, дней рождений не было, детства опять же не было, родители законченные редиски, и с любов'ю та же фигня- короче , об'являю свой дом без'ядерной зоной"
"Dean I swear to god, if you make one more joke about being 'touched by an angel' I'm going to throw you under a bus.

Dean does Hollywood the supernatural world. Sam is unenthused

Simply Irresistible FayJay
Dean's jaw drops. Actually drops. “Did I – what, was it something I said?” says Dean, feeling completely discombobulated. “Are you pissed about something? Is this some girly passive-aggressive shit, Sam? Is it because I said you looked like a bitch in that shirt? 'Cause I'm not sorry, Sam. You do look like a little bitch in that shirt, and it's my brotherly duty to let you know these things. Flowery patterns are not manly.”

“No! No, I just think it would be – better – if I travelled in the back for once. That's all. Change of scenery, you know? Nothing to worry about,” says Sam, and he slides into the back. “We're cool. It's all cool. And it's paisley, not flowers.”

She marked you,” he says, carefully.

“She what?” Dean didn't notice anything unusual in the shower. He'd definitely have noticed a new scar, now that he's sporting so much baby-smooth skin.

The Very Secret Diary of Bobby Singer, Hunter (FayJay )
September 17th, 2008
Finished last of whisky. Considered alphabetising books. Bought more whisky instead.

September 19, 2008
Dean Winchester back from grave! Not demon, shapeshifter or revenant! Also not halucination brought on by whisky! Never knew such a family for clawing their way back from death! Says he don't know how he got busted out of Hell. Must've been Sam. That idjit! Not crying. Had something in my eye.

Killing moon
Dean widens his eyes questioningly and looks down at himself, seeing the same hot, fit dude he always sees. "Yeah?"

Sam sighs. "I feel like…I like this too much. Having sex with you. Sleeping with you. It's still weird…but I feel like it's not weird enough. We're brothers, man. I shouldn't… I shouldn't be laying here feeling all satisfied 'cause I got laid with my brother."

"Satisfied?" Dean repeats, brightening. "Yeah?"



kaiser chiefs -oh my god

начитавшись J2 -



это конечно то, что ребенку нравится




Из дневника Татьяны Львовны Сухотиной-Толстой:
21 февраля 1888. Воскресенье.
Ясная Поляна.
Сейчас я согрешила, но не раскаиваюсь в своем грехе. Роясь в комодах, я открыла дневник Маши и столько из него вынесла поучительного, что радуюсь своему поступку. Во-первых, мне стало страшно жаль ее. Хотя я всегда думала, что она чувствует свое одиночество в семье, нелюбовь к ней, но, никогда не испытавши ничего другого, я не думала, чтобы она так страдала от этого. Она пишет, что хочет убить себя, но что ее останавливает то, что она чувствует, что она нелюбима по своей собственной вине, и что она будет стараться побороть свои дурные стороны, чтобы ее любили.
Она очень много сделала в этом направлении, и действительно, ее стали больше любить и мама, и папа, и я, и братья, и малыши. Это ужасное несчастье - иметь ее натуру: лживую, хитрую и вместе с тем чувственную и фальшиво-восторженную.
Ее дневник - это такой сумбур, в котором разобраться невозможно. То, что она не видит ласки и любви дома, делает то, ......................


Дж. Уиндем. День триффидов



Чем человек лучше пишет, тем больше опасаешься его читать. Кажется корысть в намасленном слоге: не просто так он рассказывает, коли так гладко влезает в душу, что-то ему нужно, если так активно он берется за меня. Эта корысть просаживает как ядро карточный дом - как просьба о ста рублях, завершающая взволнованный рассказ попутчика. Сама складность рассказа уже есть такая ангажированность - читать дальше


чтобы потом не удивляться недоверч: "а вы что вместе смотрите?"...


Теперь расскажу подробненько, что мне понравилось.
А понравилось мне, как одному парню отрезали пальцы, другому перерезали горло, многих долго и с удовольствием лупцевали - до замечательно обильных и длинных кровавых соплей; а некоторых, понравившихся не только мне - насиловали. За пределами тюрьмы жизнь тоже била ключом. Одну девушку (медицинского работника) пытали утюгом - привет вам, лихие девяностые, - при этом утапливая в ванной; потом она перехватила утюг и припекла мучителя, здорово испортив ему рубашку и волосы на груди. Та же девушка (тот же медицинский работник), получив рваные раны вследствие падения с большой высоты на лобовое стекло автомобиля, очень симпатично себя штопала, сидя на унитазе в общественном туалете. Нельзя не вспомнить о чудесном персонаже, убийце и педофиле, и о его руке, которую отрубил один мафиози (впоследствии покойный). Офигевший педофил и убийца побежал, виляя туда-сюда, по американским задворкам, прижимая к сердцу отрубленную кисть, добежал до ветеринарной клиники, где индус-ветеринар (ныне тоже покойный) пришил её как смог под страхом смерти (тут же после пришивания и приключившейся, да). Рука, однако, не хотела прирастать к телу извращенца и доставила ему немало хлопот. Когда убийцу и педофила пытали два заинтересованных лица (одно из лиц впоследствии также стало покойным), эти лица, как дети, разбирающие игрушку, по миллиметру отрывали кисть от верещавшего убийцы и педофила. Потом они приковали его к батарее, и педофил и убийца, - напомню, "педофил и убийца", он же "убийца и педофил" - это один и тот же человек, ибо он и убивал, и педофилировал (педофилия его не была показана из гуманных соображений, поэтому ему приходилось очень много убивать, дабы доказать зрителю свою полную непригодность для жизни в обществе) - так вот, о чём бишь я? А!.. Вспомнила. Будучи прикован к батарее, педофил и убийца предпочёл сам оторвать себе руку, закинуть её вместе с наручниками за батарею и удрать, - и он снова побежал, виляя, по американским задворкам. Потеряв руку окончательно, он прикинулся ветераном и организовал себе вполне рукоподобный протез, - но каково же было его удивление, когда однажды его пригвоздили к полу, пронзив оставшуюся, здоровую руку здоровым таким ножом. "Руки-крюки!" - должно быть, подумал бедняга. Вообще чувак пережил немало интересных минут. У него была способность заглатывать, не жуя и не задумываясь, всё, что угодно, и однажды ему это вышло боком, точнее - другим известным местом. Когда убийца и педофил проглотил ключ (от камеры хранения, где деньги лежали), заинтересованные лица сняли с него штаны и привязали к унитазу, между унитазом и жопой разместив дуршлаг. Ещё один интересный момент случился при переходе через пустыню с каким-то толстым мексиканцем. Нечаянно убив мексиканца, педофил и убийца его зажарил и съел (без удовольствия - потом его даже тошнило). Этот персонаж запомнится вам надолго, его неистощимой энергии, выдумке и оптимизму можно только позавидовать.
Не может не подкупать, что самый отъявленный мерзавец непременно кого-нибудь любит; даже убийца и педофил любит одну женщину-брюнетку и иногда плачет от обиды - ведь она видит в нем только убийцу и педофила и не хочет видеть его нежное сердце; жестокий надзиратель любит свою мамочку; у всех есть какие-нибудь дочки, сыночки, любимые женушки, любимые девушки, любимые сестрёнки, и почти каждый, плача от накатывающих при одном только взгляде на фотографию дорогого существа невыразимых чувств, держит в заложниках дорогое существо своего врага. Забавно также наблюдать, как ненавидящие друг друга периодически вынуждены жить и работать рядом, и вместо того, чтобы перегрызть врагу горло - они могут лишь вздыхать и думать про себя: "когда же чёрт возьмёт тебя!" (и время от времени напоминать друг другу: "Я помню, что ты убил моего папу!", "Из-за тебя моей девушке отрезали голову!" и т. д.). Если вдруг, о друг-читатель, ты окажешься недоволен своим окружением, вспомни об этих терпеливых убийцах, которые разделяют личное и общественное, и тоже до поры до времени потерпи - потом зарежешь.

Дневник pag