#Marjorie Main What a Character!

[lesbworth]

a probably incomplete list and rating of all the britcoms i have watched and how gay they are

somehow, during my short life, i have managed to watch an obscene amount of britcom, mostly through family osmosis. this probably explains a lot about who i am today. i have recently been thinking about just how many of these things have passed through my eyeballs over the years and also just how many of them range from kind of to very to unbelievably gay. so here is a list rating how gay they all are out of 10 because i always love a list!

notes:

many of these i watched at a tender age so i remember kind of fuck all and i have not rewatched any for the purposes of this. so be aware that several of these reviews are based on hazy recollections of vibes

yes some of the ones with canon queer characters are going to have lower ratings than some of the ones without that's simply how the cookie crumbles. sometimes a show is just packed to the absolute brim with pure trademark typically english inexplicable repressed homoeroticism and it makes it feel gayer than one where a character came out

let's say 5/10 is what i consider the "average" level of britcom homoeroticism but other than that there's no system to the ratings just vibes fr

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1960s

dad's army

this is probably the one i started watching at the youngest age, but i watched so damn much of it. i was too young to be looking out for this kind of thing but considering it fits the classic britcom format of revolving around the strong bonds between a cast that fails to pass the bechdel test i'm gonna make an educated guess at 3/10. there's probably old man yaoi in there somewhere. (and if i had to pick the main ship it would clearly be mainwaring/wilson)

1970s

all creatures great and small

i mean. OBJECTIVELY. it is not gay. it's literally based on real people who as far as we know were not in the least gay. but THERE'S JUST A WEIRD VIBE. AM I CRAZY? TELL ME I'M NOT CRAZY 5/10 (it's probably partly a side effect of watching this as a babygay since i would basically headcanon the whole main cast of anything i watched as bisexual. good times. i also had tristan farnon gender envy)

fawlty towers

really heterosexual vibe i will not lie. at least 60% propped up by classic i hate my wife humour. if there's anything queer in there it did not impress itself upon me 0/10 at least it inspired vicious

the good life

ostensibly this is about two married couples but it emits such an oddly bisexual energy??? like they're a polycule. to me. which is already basically canon since they have the whole wifeswap dynamic but i mean tom and jerry (yes really) are giving exes and margo and barbara have probably snogged a couple of times. TO ME. 6/10

only when i laugh

on balance i think it's probably at least a bit homoerotic considering the bechdel test metric again but despite having decently clear memories of it i can't think of anything particularly. i'll give it a 4/10 and as a raffles fan christopher strauli being there adds a point LMAO

porridge

despite being set in a men's prison i don't think it gets a very high score... let's go 4/10 because i'm sure there's enough there to go off of. pretty sure there were also many jokes about gay sex as can be expected. also inspired red dwarf

rising damp

going to be so for real the main thing i remember is the racism. 1/10? there are enough male characters that there might have been something idk

to the manor born

i mean it's a straight romance but it's not toooo hetero. audrey and marjory are kind of schoolgirl exes yuri #if you think about it. in fact i remember a scene where they're gushing about how they both had a crush on one of their schoolmistresses? 5.5/10?

whatever happened to the likely lads?

i THINK i've watched episodes of this. i know my parents have the box set. but i cannot for the life of me recall anything from it. just based on the premise though, i'll give it a strong 5/10

1980s

'allo 'allo!

girl... i forgor. i don't think so? i mean let's give it 3/10 for being set in france. also i have been reminded that there's an implied gay nazi, diversity win

blackadder (all series)

absolutely. "i cannot conceive", etc and so on. the crossdressing shenanigans. fry & laurie are there. just has a fruitiness about it generally. 7/10

only fools and horses

eeehh. all-male main cast but they're a family which hinders its ability to serve homo. generally giving very straight energy. 1/10 in case i forgot something

red dwarf

the fucking show that led me to make this ranking in the first place. grant naylor you will be dealt with. 10/10

a very peculiar practice

i didn't watch much of this and it was a long time ago but distinctly remember getting some kind of A Vibe. and looking it up apparently one of the main characters is canonically bi?? damn 7/10

yes, minister (and yes, prime minister)

look. LOOK. there's just something about it. it's the father of the thick of it which is british succession to me. also sir humphrey is homosexual there is literally no other way to read him nigel hawthorne told me himself actually. go and watch the homoerotic wispa ad 7/10

you rang, m'lord?

i actually haven't watched any full episodes of this but i must give it a 7/10 for the inclusion of CISSY the stylish 1920s aristocratic butch communist who could have walked right out of le monocle. love it

1990s

drop the dead donkey

this was such a deep cut i actually forgot it existed until making this list. i know i watched quite a lot of it to be honest but i can't remember shit other than that i liked one of the women's hair. i think it was pretty straight? NEVERMIND THERE'S A LESBIAN IN IT HOW DID I FORGET ABOUT A WHOLE LESBIAN 6/10

father ted

to be honest i don't think this comes from quite the same place homoeroticism-wise as most of the others on this list given that it's irish and not english (not to disparage oscar wilde of course!). catholic yaoi...? i really don't think so 2/10 for the catholicism also get fucked graham linehan

jeeves and wooster

let's be serious now. 9/10 i <3 gay people. i was raised on the books which also probably explains a lot about me... and naturally i have also always gotten severe gender envy from bertie

mr. bean

is mr. bean really considered britcom. can i leave him out. i'm going to leave him out

one foot in the grave

now i am certain i have watched this because i remember the theme song and vaguely the title sequence but i also forgot about its existence until this list. honestly i think it was just giving constant i hate my wifeism even the imprint where a memory once was of it that i have feels tiring 0/10

the royle family

painfully straight but in the way your irl straight friends are. if that makes sense. 1/10

2000s

black books

maybe i watched this at an overly impressionable age but like... it's giving. it's got the odd couple the domesticity the found family if you will. the m/f platonic relationships. also tamsin greig in that haircut? i remember always being so unconvinced that fran was straight that woman looks sooo lesbian 8/10 and FUCK graham linehan

the it crowd

very classic britcomism (you're my wife roy! you're my wife!!!) and i mean the guys snog on screen that is very much a thing that happened. also i just don't really think richard ayoade can totally play straight despite being a straight man. also the main three kind of have rancid bisexual polycule potential. also there's a goth. also i would watch gay! a gay musical. 7/10 AND FUCK GRAHAM LINEHAN!!!!!!

peep show

classic britcom homoerotic odd couple except one of them is actually bisexual and played by a bisexual actor. and the other is "possibly bi but basically uncurious". and they ALSO snog on screen. i haven't watched much of this to my shame but I Know What It Is 8/10

the thick of it

BRITISH SUCCESSION. i swear to god you would all be foaming at the mouth about this if it came out at a time and context to be big on tumblr. malcolm tucker god's worst bisexual 7.5/10 by the way that's an incredibly homophobic headline you massive poof!

2010s

ghosts

8.5/10 right off the bat brother firstly it's a six idiots show which already guarantees a high score but also it's genuinely very sweet with regards to canon queerness and the characters are flamboyant and lovable in a way guaranteed to attract the kind of queer fandom it has today. captain my beloved

upstart crow

i mean of course it's about shakespeare and it doesn't shy away from implying he's queer but the general vibe is not suuuper fruity. i'll say 6.5/10

vicious

this is what i'm TALKING ABOUTTT i'm so glad this show exists in the world. genuinely what would we even do if there WASN'T a show about ian mckellen and derek jacobi being a gay couple of 50 years who hate each other 11/10

yonderland

i feel like this makes ghosts too low but i wanted to put yonderland a bit higher for the sheer amount of environmental queerness knocking about in there and also the general campiness of it all. six idiots moment. 9/10 the elders are incredible ho-tan you will always be famous queen

2020s

staged

yeah. 9/10

-

thank you for reading 🙏 honestly i basically just made this for the appeal of making A List but absolutely feel free to argue with me about the ratings, suggest your own fav britcoms not listed here, et cetera

(also have fun spotting the same fucking people in half of them LMAO. i fear british tv is never beating the 3 actors allegations)

[dereks-unrelenting-heart]

Top 10 SFTH Characters

I told y'all it was coming, and here it is; my Top 10 favorite characters in the SFTH universe

10. Peter (The Milkman)

This kid knows how to twist a fucking knife, huh? He doesn’t even know what’s going on and somehow he manages to metaphorically stab David 37 times in the chest /ref. Peter is also my favorite example of Tom playing a traumatized child, he just does it so well here. I genuinely love the scene where David tells him his mom's not happy and he immediately apologizes and wants to go Go-Karting with her. Idk how Tom can portray that kind of character that well, but I'm glad we get to see it so frequently- Plus it was iconic of him to sing 'Tomorrow' twice, once while he was running for his life.

9. Mario the Sheep (The Lighthouse)

Everyone’s favorite inbred, part-human, cocaine using sheep that loses his mind (alongside Sam) throughout the storyline. There's not much to say about it other than the fact I love comic relief characters and who's more comic relief than this guy? It was also fun to watch Sam slowly die inside once the sheep was made a main character, that was great-

8. Marty (The Evil Make-A-Wish Kid)

Another instance of Sam’s portrayal and delivery making his character memorable as hell. The smirk and the voice he chose to use for all of his lines make Marty one of my favorite villains in their plays (OLM doesn’t count, I see her as more morally grey than anything). He's a great combination of being played for laughs and genuinely doing evil things. This kid lights his mom on fire and all he has to say about it is "I'm gonna miss games when I'm dead." It might be my favorite line in that play tbh, along with "Congratulations. You killed the kid"

7. Andrew (All Eyes On Nigel)

Along with the Janae type nerds (spoiler for later 🤫), I also have a soft spot for the naive/inexperienced characters, especially when they get a little fucked up by the end of their storyline. Andrew is a prime example of this in the SFTH universe, being all excited about his job as an officer, before being taken hostage and being given drugs starting to sound like a favorite character of mine from a different fandom...

6. Donnie (The Detective v The Christmas Tree Bandits)

THE ADHD icon. He’s far from the only SFTH character with diagnosed ADHD and idk about you but he’s the representation I wanted fr- and now he’s dead :( Even if his death wasn't as emotional of a scene as y'all made it out to be, it still makes me sad and I will be living in denial about it with the rest of you for while.

5. Janae (The Neighbor's Under The Bed)

Janae is the textbook definition of the ‘character way too smart for their age to an unrealistic level’, therefore she has to make an appearance on my favorites list. She also has the line "My Seismogram IS TRUE" which is such a good quotable line, I'm never getting over that-

4. Jimmy (Toby’s Secret Pocket)

Ah, the Fan Favorite Tom character who can’t get through a door if his life depended on it. Who can blame the audience for latching onto him? "I was just gonna say it's the racism" "I get lonely sometimes" "STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LAW" I mean, how can we be expected to not love him?

3. Old Lady Marjorie (The Unrelenting Aubergine)

I think everyone knows why she’s here. 1) She's another villain/morally grey character from Sam, 2) At least half of her witchery is just drugs, and 3) She slaps AJ- I mean James- 3 times, causing Sam- I mean Marjorie- to turn bright red from laughter. Absolute Cinema.

2. Amanda (Clarissa's DIY Wedding)

Tom’s other hopeless romantic gay character, I’m sensing a pattern in my favs- I've mentioned how much I love that Tom went straight for 'yearning lesbian' with this one in my other post, but I'm gonna talk about it in more detail because I can. She loves Clarissa so so much, but because she doesn't think the feelings are reciprocated (true or not-) she will make sure Clarissa and Mark have their wedding and that, above all, Clarissa is happy. This fact makes me love her more, but also makes me so very sad..

There were a few characters that didn't quite make it to the Top 10, so before we go to Number 1, here's a few:

Honorable Mentions

Scottish Robin (The Midnight Mystery) He would've been #10 but I had to add Janae so he got demoted

Aside from the general chaos he is, I love Robin from a meta standpoint, because it’s one of those moments that shows that Luke and Sam have the same exact sense of humor. Luke 100% did the “WE’RE GOING DOWN TO CHIPPY” bit purely to make Sam laugh, and boy did it work. Also the joy in Robin/Luke screaming “BATMAN” at the top of his lungs is great, he is in his element lmao

Caravan Brothers (No, I Always Loved That Caravan!)

Before I realized they’re called the Caravan Brothers in the fandom, I fully just called them the incest brothers because I think that gets the vibe across. Technically, I think the O’Hands Brothers would also be accurate. Weirdest fucking brothers I’ve ever seen, but in an iconic way. Besides, I always love another chance for Luke to go gremlin mode for a character.

Big Hans (Oh My God, Is This A Joke?)

So he might've made it to the main list, but something about putting a nazi character in the top 10 wasn't sitting right with me, so he’s in the honorable mentions instead (At least it's not Xavier-) To be clear I just like how he was immediately introduced as a 'pocket-sized aryan' that was absolutely fucking Ze Blackberry, then in his next scene his vibe had shifted and he was oddly fond of the French accent/language for some reason?? “Don’t make friends with them!” “Why not? :(” Bro was literally just happy to be there.

1. Derek (The Unrelenting Aubergine)

Surprising no one, Derek Gangles is everything to me. I have no idea what makes me like him more than any of their other romantic characters, there’s just something about how Tom plays him that makes him so endearing. I think part of it is how he seems to be constantly in awe and admiration of Titch, loving him in such a (relatively) innocent way. “Are we gonna have kids?” I can hear the puppy eyes in his voice, are you kidding me??

[annarobszombies]

A bit different question. What kind of music you would choose as main theme for Senku, Gen, Tsukasa, Stanley and Xeno as individuals that isn't in anime? Also what kind of music taste you think each of them have?

Wow sorry this took forever but hey here it is finally

Warning: I have Controversial Opinions on their music tastes and it's almost 100% based on vibes

Also, 110% not a definite list as there are many songs that I think fit each character in different ways and all I have is my own music taste to rely on here

Senku

Song: Marjorie (Taylor Swift)

A song written to mourn and remember a loved one that has long passed on just fits him really well

Music Taste: Pop and Hip-Hop

He listens to lots of music, but this is what you'll hear most often in the lab. He finds the rhythm of most Pop and Hip Hop songs mentally stimulating.

Gen

Song: Mastermind (Taylor Swift)

Come on. Just listen to it and tell me I'm wrong.

Music Taste: Blues

I don't know how to explain this one honestly it's just the vibe he gives off

Tsukasa

Song: Soon You'll Get Better (Taylor Swift)

This is another one you need to trust me with and just listen to it.

Music Taste: Lo-Fi and Movie Musical Soundtracks

This one was the hardest. Tsukasa, to me, is the kind of guy who is more likely to listen to audiobooks and good podcasts, and only really listens to music to relax.

Plus, I mean, he's got a little sister who probably likes the soundtracks to movies like The Little Mermaid and Cinderella, and he is always happy to entertain her.

Stanley

Song: Goodbye Earl (The Chicks)

Stanley is the guy who would show up at your doorstep when he finds out you're being abused and help you kill the man and hide the body.

Music Taste: Early 2000s country, "White Girl" Pop, and Hip-Hop/some Rap

Stanley is a Marine who grew up the same time I did and has to suffer through crayon-eater jokes let him have his Taylor Swift and Shania Twain.

Would also have feelings about the Kendrick vs Drake beef

Xeno

Song: Rat (Penelope Scott)

It's a song about loving science and technology, but being hurt by how companies have turned it into something made solely for profit. It's a song about disappointment, about being disappointed. And Xeno is nothing, if not disappointed in the world.

Music Taste: 80's & 90's Rock

It honestly just fits the vibe. He also listens to whatever Stanley puts on the radio (will tell you he doesn't like Taylor Swift but has been caught more than once jamming to her)

[hotvintagepoll]

Marjorie Main (The Women, Summer Stock)—a world weary dame who wore her midwestern accent on her sleeve. marjorie main kills it as a reno ranch owner in "the women" (1939) and as warm mother hens <3 she was no shabby actor either! this scene with her and humphrey bogart fucking haunts me [link]

Zero Mostel (A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, The Producers)—Archetypal. Comedian of all time. The worst combover in cinematic history, probably. Could make more laughter with one muscle in a singular eyebrow than 98% of all men across the face of the earth. Hardcore Committer to the Bit. Man of all time, and also told HUAC directly where they could shove it, which is a primally appealing and scrungly quality.

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Marjorie Main:

Zero Mostel:

"The chase scene in FORUM is just. it's fucking iconic. It's one of the funniest pieces of cinema I've ever seen in any context, everything about it is genius, and the heart and soul of it is Zero Mostel as Pseudolus. Casting him alongside a young Michael Crawford (of later Phantom of the Opera fame) really highlights the differences between the young romantic lead and the older, sensible, and yet entirely scrungly middle aged man (Mostel was 55 at the time) somehow manages to come off as even more desirable. He has no shit together, not very good plans, is panicked for most of the story, and the charisma of a champ. His flailing, helpless attempts at fighting the gladiator is so... he's so scrungly. "

"He's not fancy, he's not pretty, he's not good at much of anything, but he is Genius despite that."

"There is a magic to Zero Mostel that he manages to bring to roles where he is simultaneously the worst person ever, and also, compelling in every possible way. He had his biggest period of fame in middle age after he got taken off the Hollywood blacklist, and being a fat middle aged man with thinning hair is what gives every single bit of his characters power. As the original Max Bialystock he would eat the entirety of The Producers except that Gene Wilder as Leo Bloom is a genius casting decision, as Mostel's intensity against Wilder's deep discomfort ends up being the right chemistry. In many ways he reminds me of Buster Keaton, the pinnacle of hot scrungly little guy—a unique and expressive face, an instinctive understanding of comedy, active at the same time, and also they were both in FORUM together. Mostel came from an Orthodox Jewish family, was a trained painter with a degree in art, spoke four languages, and when he was blacklisted during the Red Scare and brought before the HUAC, he didn't just refuse to name names, he made fun of the senators. He was disabled after an accident, and still did dancing in movies and things like stunts in FORUM. He did a ton of work on Broadway too, including originating Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, making the musical more Jewish as he did so. Frankly, I don't think any of those roles (or the eventual later film versions of Fiddler/musical version of the Producers) would work with anyone else. It had to be a fat balding middle aged leftist Jew from Brooklyn. The scrungly is essential.

"the scrungle factor of max in every version of the producers is through the roof but nathan lane does it as suave scrungle. zero mostel does not do suave scrungle. he does old jewish man getting into an argument with the rabbi at the full synagogue passover seder about how much wine has to be in the glass for it to count as "one cup" scrungle; he does old jewish man whose entire fridge is full of pickled herring scrungle. it's offputting in all the ways that make it genius."

[chiefpapermuffinpasta]

a deadly calm inside - 5

pairing: dean winchester x oc!witch!reader

chapter summary: After reluctantly seeking refuge at Cordelia’s, Sam and Dean begin to suspect there’s more to her past with Marjorie than she’s letting on. As Marjorie battles her own demons, both literal and personal, she sets a trap for the wraith that has been haunting her, forcing herself to face the pain it thrives on. But when Marjorie finally enacts the ritual, she is left with no choice but to destroy the wraith and walk away from the only mother figure she’s ever known. Now, wounded but resolute, she joins the Winchesters in hunting down Meg, setting the stage for a new, volatile alliance.

word count: 14.0k

marjorie outfit inspo 2 3

marjorie get behind me! i really loved writing this chapter and building marjorie's relationship with the winchesters. i know there still isn't any smooching, but it's a slow burn for a reason lol. also, i know this is a dean fic, but how would we feel about a sam fic? im actually a sam girl and i don’t think he gets enough love on tumblr, but u guys can let me know. enjoy!!!!!

*****

The scent of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air as Marjorie slid into the diner booth, stretching her legs across the seat. The place had a charming, old-school feel- faded red vinyl booths, a jukebox humming in the background, and the faint clatter of plates in the kitchen. It was the kind of place that felt untouched by time, a perfect slice of normalcy. 

Dean grabbed the toe of her boots, shoving her legs to the floor, and dropping into the seat across from her. His eyes looked over the menu, scanning to see shock on her face. She couldn’t see the rest of his face, but she knew he was smiling. Sam slid next to him, giving him a pointed look. 

Sam looked over at Dean’s menu. “You’re really gonna order that much grease this early?” Dean looked down at his watch- 8 am. 

“It’s never too early for a bacon cheeseburger.”

A waitress walked over, her name tag showing ‘Becca.’

“What can I get started for you guys?” Her deep brown hair was tied loosely into a side braid and she had a pretty shade of red painted on her lips. Dean definitely noticed. 

He flashed her a toothy grin, giving her his order. 

Sam rolled his eyes, Marjorie mirroring the movement. 

“I’ll just get some eggs and whole wheat toast, thanks.” Sam gave her a nod, handing his menu to the woman. 

Marjorie followed, Becca not even making eye contact with her as she ordered a short stack of their chocolate chip pancakes. Becca gave her a small smile, though it didn’t really reach her eyes. 

“Coming right up,” she said as she her teeth found her bottom lip and she gave Dean the same eyes the main character of a rom-com gives the love interest. 

“That happen a lot?” Marjorie asked Sam, pointing to Dean.

“Why? You jealous, carrot top?”

Dean's smirk quickly turned to a grimace as one of Marjorie’s heels jammed into the top of his foot. 

“You wish.” Marjorie huffed.

The three fell into a comfortable silence, and Marjorie leaned back in her seat , soaking in the moment- the warmth of the diner, the smell of sticky syrup, the rare, fleeting sense of ease. It felt normal.

Normal never lasted.

Sam cleared his throat, eyes flicking back and forth from Marjorie to the salt shaker in front of him. “Do you ever talk about it?”, he asked, his voice so soft she almost didn’t hear him.

Becca sauntered over to their table, carrying three plates gratefully. 

Impressive, Marjorie thought. 

The woman placed the three plates in front of the trio, the smell overwhelming Marjorie’s nostrils. She was hungry, genuinely hungry. She smiled at the feeling. 

But then she remembered Sam’s question.

With fake confusion, she shoved a forkfull of pancake in her mouth. “Talk about what?” 

Dean watched her cheeks double in size as she ate, a fluttering in his stomach appeared. Just hungry, he thought to himself. 

Sam hesitated before clarifying. “The night you died.”

Marjorie froze mid chew. Her fingers tightened around her fork and knife, swallowing thickly. She glanced between them- Dean was quiet, watching her carefully, and Sam, ever the empathetic one, looked like he already regretted bringing it up. 

She let out a dry laugh. “Really? We’re doing trauma talk over pancakes?” 

Sam started to backpedal. “You don’t have to-”

“No, it’s fine,” Marjorie exhaled, pouring a mountain of syrup over her already soaked pancakes. “I mean… you guys already know the basics, right? Might as well go all in.”

Dean shifted. “You really don’t have to.”

She nodded to him as a thanks. She considered brushing it off but Cordelia was right- she need to talk about it. Exposure therapy or something. If this brought her closer to killing the wraith, then she was willing to do it. 

“I remember it being cold. The kind of cold you feel in your bones, you know? Eleanor and I… we were inside by the fire. I was reading her a story.” Her voice wavered slightly.

“Then the door busted open.” She remembered the way to wood cracked and flew around them by the force. 

“There were so many of them. Neighbors, people I’d helped, people I thought were my friends. They dragged me outside before I could register what was happening.” She let out a hollow laugh. “I was kicking. Screaming. Fighting. They used a witchcatcher.”

Dean raised a brow. 

“It’s a collar used on witches. Once its on, we’re completely restrained. I had no control of my powers.”

His jaw tightened, his hands clenched under the table. 

“None of them could look me in the eye. I was nothing to them anymore.”

Sam’s expression was unreadbale, but she could sense the pity.

“They called me unnatural,” she spat. “That I was cursed. That I was dangerous.” Her throat tightened and her eyes looked to the window next to the booth. “And then they took Eleanor.”

Silence. Sam stiffened and Dean let out a heavy exhale. 

Marjorie continued, pushing through the lump in her throat, resting her head on her hand. “She was only six,” she whispered. “She didn’t understand what was happening. She just kept calling for me, kept crying-” she sucked in a breath. “I begged them to let her go. Swore I’d leave too, do whatever they wanted, but they didn’t listen.”

The room felt smaller. Heavier. 

“They tied us up,” she said. “Strapped us to the stake.”

Sam’s lips parted, but no words came out.

Marjorie’s gaze was far away now, lost in memories she couldn’t escape. “I told her to close her eyes,” she murmered. “Told her that everything was going to be okay.” A bitter smile twisted on her face. “I lied to her.” 

Deans voice, when it came, was hoarse. “Jesus, Marjorie.”

She blinked rapidly, willing herself not to cry. “She was so scared,” her lip trembled. “And I couldn’t do a damn thing.” 

Silence again.

Marjorie took a deep breath, then another. “The flames caught so fast,” she continued, voice steadier now, colder. “I remember the pain- you don’t forget something like that. How it felt like my skin was peeling away, like my insides were boiling.” Her fingers twitched as if she could still feel it. “But I didn’t scream. Not at first.” 

Dean’s head dropped slightly, like he physically couldn’t take it. Sam didn’t take his eyes off her.

“Her screams were terrible. Such a small thing, subjected to so much pain. And then she stopped- there was nothing.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. 

“That’s when I cried. I tried so hard to soothe her, but it did nothing. How could it, you know? And then, she died.” 

For a moment, no one spoke.

The Marjorie let out a shaky laugh, bitter and humorless. “And then I woke up. The air wasn’t cold anymore. I had been gone a while. ”

Dean muttered, “You said you killed them. The ones who did that to you.”

Marjorie snorted, though there was no real amusement in it. “I did. I hunted them for months- I wanted them to know I was coming. I wanted them to be scared.”

Dean met her gaze, and something shifted. 

Not fear. Not wariness.

Understanding. 

He might not have known what is was like to be burnt alive, to lose a child, but her understood vengeance. Understood the kind of pain that carved out a piece of you and left something rotten in its place. 

Sam exhaled slowly. “Marjorie, I’m so sor-”

“Dont,” she cut in. “No ‘I’m sorrys.’ That’s not why I told you.” 

Sam nodded, understanding her boundary. 

Marjorie forced a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “So. That’s my super fun backstory. Now you know why I’m such a delight to be around.” 

Dean shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “You were definitely a pain in the ass way before that.” 

A genuine laugh bubbled in her throat, surprising even her. Sam rolled his eyes, but the heaviness in his expression had eased, just a little. 

“What was she like?” Dean asked, shoveling a fry into his mouth.

Marjorie stuffed a pancake into her own as her eyes lit up. 

“Eleanor?” 

Dean nodded in confirmation. 

Marjorie stared at him. No one had really bothered to ask her that before. The people who knew about Eleanor didn’t care much to know about the girl. Just that she was Marjorie’s daughter, and that she was dead. 

For a second, she didn’t know what to say.

“She was…” a small, distant smile ghosted her lips. “She was sunshine.” 

Sam and Dean both listened, the weight of her words settling over the table. 

Becca had made her way back to the table, starting ask them, Dean mostly, if they needed anything else at the moment.

“We’re fine,” he told her, his eyes not leaving Marjorie. 

Marjorie’s fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup absentmindenly. “She had the biggest laugh. You know the kind- too big for her tiny little body. It would just burst out of her, completely uncontained.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “She used to laugh so hard she’d get hiccups.”

Dean’s lips twitched upward. “She sounds like a handful.” 

“Oh, she was,” Marjorie said, her smiling growing. “I was sixteen when I had her, so we were basically just two kids trying to figure everything out together.” 

It was Sam’s turn to raise and eyebrow. 

“It was the 1800s Sam, not a nunnery. Though my father wasn’t very happy about it.” Sam laughed at this.

Marjorie continued, leaning back again, placing her palm against her chest. “She was stubborn as hell. Always asking questions, always pushing limits. If she wanted something, she wasn’t gonna stop until she got it.”

“She sounds like you,” Sam told her. 

Marjorie huffed. “She was better than me.” 

Something flickered in her expression then- grief, love, something deeper than either of them could name. 

“She used to bring home stray animals,” Marjorie laughed. “Birds wth broken wings, half-drowned kittens, even a damn fox once. She’d look at me with these big, wide, brown eyes and say ‘Mama, we gotta help them.’” She huffed a breath through her nose. “I could never say no.”

Dean swallowed hard, breaking his gaze from Marjorie to look down at his hands. 

Marjorie didn’t notice. “She loved flowers,” she added. “Would spend hours in the yard, picking them just to give them away. She’d shove them into people’s hands, tell them they needed to smile more. Hers was my favorite. Her front teeth were bigger than the rest so they poke out everytime she smiled. She was a beautiful little girl- she had this long brown hair and when she was in the sun for too long, she’d get a couple freckles that scattered across her cheeks. I don’t know where she got that beauty from.” Marjorie brought a hand up to her own face. 

A confused look spread across Dean’s face, but he shook it away quickly. His voice was low. “She sounds like a good kid.”

Marjorie nodded. “She was the best.”

The weight in the room was different now. Not just grief, but warmth. Love. A memory that wasn’t just pain, but something worth holding on to. 

Marjorie stretched her arms over her head. “Anyway,” she said, forcing herself back to the present. “That’s enough tragedy for one morning. “Who’s paying for my breakfast?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m too young to be a sugar daddy, sweetheart.” 

Marjorie smirked. “Scared of a little philantropy?” 

Sam sighed, already reaching for his wallet. 

Marjorie and Dean met eachother eyes again. They could feel the shift.

Niether of them minded. 

It was nice to be understood. 

*****

The Impala rumbled to a stop in front of Cordelia’s house, the engine ticking as Dean threw it into park. Marjorie sighed, already reaching for the door handle.

“Well,” she said, forcing a lightness into her voice, “it’s been fun. Thanks for the food, the riveting conversation, and the ride home.” She popped the door open and slid out, turning back with a half-smile. “Drive safe.”

She expected them to nod, maybe toss out a keep in touch before peeling off into the horizon.

Instead, both brothers got out of the car.

Marjorie’s stomach dropped. “What are you doing?” she asked, brows knitting together.

Dean shut his door with an easy shrug. “Walking you to the door.”

Sam shut his a second later. “And letting you know we’re staying.”

Marjorie blinked. “Come again?”

Dean stretched, like the answer was the most natural thing in the world. “Look, you told us everything you know about Meg, which means we’re dealing with her. But first, we’re handling this wraith situation. Might even get us closer to her.”

“What about your dad?” she challenged.

“He’ll be fine. Right now, we’d just be in his way,” Sam said simply.

Marjorie stared. “You—what—no, that’s not—” She exhaled sharply, raking a hand through her hair. “That’s not how this works.”

Dean tilted his head. “Says who?”

“Says me!” She threw up her hands. “I told you what I know, so you can go do your whole heroic martyr routine and deal with Meg. I’ll take care of the wraith.”

Sam arched a brow. “And if you die?”

Marjorie faltered.

Dean sighed, planting his hands on his hips. “Look, sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but we’re in this now. I know you don’t need help, but it wouldn’t hurt.”

Before she could fire back, the front door swung open.

“And where exactly do you two plan on staying?”

Dean grinned up at Cordelia, still standing in the doorway. “We were just getting to that part.”

Cordelia snorted. “Let me guess. You two decided to be knights in shining Carhartt and refuse to leave until Marjorie stops being self-destructive.”

Dean’s grin widened. “See? You get us.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes, but Marjorie caught the flicker of relief beneath her usual dry amusement.

Cordelia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Come inside.”

Dean clapped his hands together. “Not you.”

Dean blinked. “Uh—”

“I was talking to Marjorie.”

Cordelia leaned against the doorframe, extending an arm in invitation. Marjorie didn’t hesitate, bounding up the steps, a quiet sense of security settling over her the moment she reached Cordelia’s side. She didn’t leave the house much these days. Standing out here, on the open lawn, she felt exposed—like a raw nerve waiting to be struck. The wraith could be watching. Could be waiting.

Instinct told her to go where she felt safest.

Sam cleared his throat. “Look, we’re not trying to overstep. But we’ve got strength in numbers. If we handle the wraith first, we don’t have to worry about it getting in the way when we go after Meg.”

Marjorie hesitated. Damn it. He had a point.

She turned to Cordelia, their eyes meeting in a silent conversation.

Cordelia, for all her posturing, sighed like she was already regretting this decision. “Fine. But don’t touch my stuff.”

Dean let out a triumphant laugh. “Define stuff.”

She pointed a warning finger at him. “If anything in this house explodes, goes missing, or turns up broken, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair,” Dean said, strolling past her. “So, you got a guest room?”

Cordelia shut the door behind them with a long-suffering sigh. “You’re staying wherever you annoy me the least.”

Dean beamed. “Your couch is pretty comfy.”

Cordelia muttered something under her breath, but Marjorie caught the ghost of a smile before she turned away.

Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

*****

A week passed. Somehow—against all odds—they hadn’t killed each other yet.

If anything, it was almost… nice.

Mornings settled into a rhythm. Cordelia staked her claim over the kitchen like a queen defending her throne, muttering hexes under her breath if anyone so much as glanced at her coffee before she’d taken her first sip. Marjorie quickly took over cooking after the first morning when Dean’s attempt at making bacon nearly set the entire house on fire. (No one knew how it happened. The bacon was fine one second, then whoosh.)

Sam, unsurprisingly, was the easiest housemate. Up at the crack of dawn, he spent his mornings buried in whatever lore books he could scrounge up, helping Cordelia research while sipping black coffee like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the mortal plane.

Dean, on the other hand, had a talent for making himself very present.

And Cordelia?

Cordelia had made it her personal mission to make Dean Winchester’s life as inconvenient as humanly (or magically) possible.

It started small.

Dean would reach for his coffee, only for the mug to slide an inch out of reach at the last second.

Then his knife and fork would flip out of his hands every time he picked them up.

At first, he thought he was losing his mind—until he caught Cordelia smirking over the rim of her cup.

“Oh, you think you’re funny,” he muttered.

“Kid, I know I’m funny,” she shot back.

The next day, his beer mysteriously turned into chamomile tea the second he took a sip.

The day after that, every time he put on his boots, something inside them squished unpleasantly—like Jell-O had been melted into them overnight.

“You’re a menace,” Dean grumbled after discovering his leather jacket had inexplicably shrunk two sizes.

Cordelia patted his cheek with faux sympathy. “Don’t test me, hunter.”

Meanwhile, Sam was treated like a prince.

“Oh, Sam,” Cordelia cooed one morning. “I made you some tea for your headache.”

Dean, mid-bite of toast, nearly choked. “Wait, what?”

Sam, amused but wary, accepted the cup. “Uh… thanks?”

“Oh, and I found an old book in my collection.” Cordelia placed a massive, ancient tome in front of him, dust curling up from its worn leather cover. “It has some theories on dream-walking that might help with your research.”

Dean stared at the scene in utter betrayal. “Where’s my book?”

Cordelia didn’t even look up. “I gave you a book.”

“No, you gave me The Beginner’s Guide to Knitting and You.”

Cordelia sipped her coffee with a slow, smug smile. “Exactly.”

Dean groaned, shoving the book away like it personally offended him. “Unbelievable.”

Marjorie snorted into her tea, and Sam barely hid a smirk.

*****

Marjorie wasn’t sure why she was awake.

It wasn’t a nightmare, for once. It wasn’t some lingering shadow of her past creeping in. She just…wasn’t tired. 

So, she wandered to the living room, where the fire had burned down to embers and the whole house was quiet. She expected to be alone. 

The brothers had been sleeping in a room off the back porch on a small, cramped pull out couch. Dean had offered he and Marjorie share a bed as he was too big to share with his brother, but Marjorie, obviously, turned him down. 

She wasn’t alone. 

Dean was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over his chest, the other loosely gripping a bottle of whiskey. His eyes flicked up to her when she entered, and instead of the usual smirk or snarky remark, he just tilted the bottle slightly.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Marjorie shook her head, sitting on the armrest of the couch. “You neither?”

Dean shrugged. “Whiskey helps.” He took another sip then glanced at her. “You want some?”

Marjorie considered it for a moment. She could’ve made a joke about how carrying around a bottle of whiskey is usually a tell-tale sign you should go to AA, but she didn’t. She just nodded. Dean leaned forward, offering the bottle, and she took a long sip before handing it back. 

For a few minutes, they just sat there, passing the bottle back and forth in comfortable silence. 

Then, Dean glanced up at her, something amused in his expression. “So, be honest with me- how much of Cordelia’s magic is just to mess with me specifically?”

Marjorie laughed. “Oh, at least seventy percent. The other thirty is just Delia’s sass.”

Dean groaned. “I knew it. She turned my beer into tea.”

“That one was actually my idea,” Marjorie admitted, smirking. 

Dean turned to stare at her. “You’re evil.”

She grinned, stretching her legs out to sit atop the coffe table in front of them.

Dean noticed her socks had tiny witch hats and brooms on them. Cute, he thought. 

“Not evil, just…magically gifted in the art of pettiness.” 

Dean shook his head, but he was laughing. “Alright, I’ll admit, it’s kinda cool. You’re magic, I mean. I’ve never really spent this much time around a witch.”

Marjorie raised a brow. “You, really?”

“Whatever.” Dean lifted the bottle to his lips again.

Marjorie bit the skin on her lower lip shyly. “You wanna see something cool?”

Dean sat up a little. “Hell yeah, I do.”

Marjorie help up a hand, finger curling slightly. The air in the room shifted, warm and electric. Then, suddenly, tiny glowing embers- like fireflies made of pure blue light- flickered into existence between her fingertips, dancing through the air like they had a mind of their own. 

Dean’s eyes widened slightly. “Damn.”

Marjorie flicked her wrist slightly, and the embers swirled upward, shifting into different shapes- first a bird, then a flute, then a car that looked suspicously like the Impala. 

Dean let out a low whistle. “Awesome.”

Marjorie smirked. “I know, right?”

Dean reached out, as if trying to touch one. Embers curled around his fingers gracefully, then flickered away softly. “So, what else can you do?”

Marjorie thought for a second. The, grinning, she lifted her other hand and snapped her fingers. The fireplace roared back to life in an instant, sending warm golden light soaring around the room.

Dean raised an impressed brow. “That’s useful.”

“Sure is,” Marjorie said. “Especially in winter. Or when I want a dramatic exit.”

Dean snorted. “I knew you were the type to make your own dramatic lighting.”

Marjorie rolled her eyes, but didn’t deny it. 

The pair sat there, the fire crackling , the half-empty whiskey bottle between them. 

Dean watched the tiny glowing shapes fade into the air. “You know…you’re alright Marjorie.”

She glanced at him, rasing an eyebrow. “Was I not alright before?”

“Jury was still out.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

Dean tipped the bottle toward her. “To magic, whiskey, and not murdering each other in our sleep.” 

Marjorie tinked a knuckle against the bottle. “Cheers to that.”

The air around them continued to warm. Marjorie smiled to herself.

She liked Dean Winchester.

*****

Dean was two bites into his sandwich when his phone buzzed against the worn wooden table, rattling slightly.

Marjorie leaned beside him against the counter, idly flipping through one of Cordelia’s old spellbooks, though Dean doubted she was actually reading it. Sam stood at the sink, rinsing out his coffee mug with the methodical precision of someone pretending not to eavesdrop.

Across the room, Cordelia sat cross-legged on the couch, lazily flipping through TV channels. To the untrained eye, she looked disinterested. But Dean knew better. She was watching. Analyzing. Measuring the space—no, the tension—between him and Marjorie. And maybe, just maybe, pretending she couldn’t smell the desperation coming off both of them. Clueless.

The phone buzzed again.

Dean ignored it.

It stopped.

Then immediately started ringing again.

“Just answer it,” Sam sighed, shaking water from his hands as he reached for a dish towel.

Dean scowled and snatched the phone up, barely glancing at the caller ID. “Yeah?”

The voice on the other end was unmistakable.

“Where are you?” John Winchester’s tone had a way of filling a room, even over the phone.

Dean’s jaw tightened. His grip on the sandwich went slack. “Still working that case.”

“The case should be closed by now,” John snapped, his irritation cutting through the static. “I told you boys to track Meg, not play house with some—”

Dean shoved back from the table so abruptly that his chair scraped against the floor with a sharp screech. Marjorie’s fingers stilled against the pages of her book.

“We got a situation, alright? We’re handling it.”

Silence. Heavy. Tense.

On the couch, Cordelia finally stopped flipping channels. Even Sam, who had been making a valiant effort to appear disinterested, turned slightly, his back going rigid.

John exhaled, the sound crackling over the line. “What kind of situation?”

Dean hesitated. His eyes flicked to Marjorie, who kept her gaze stubbornly fixed on the book in her hands, though he knew damn well she was listening.

He wasn’t going to rat her out. The wraith was her fight.

“Just some complications,” he said finally, choosing his words carefully. “It’s nothing we can’t handle.”

John’s sigh was sharp and unimpressed. “We don’t have time for complications, Dean. We’ve got a demon on the loose, and she’s dangerous. I need you two back on the road.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “Dad, we’ve got something dangerous here too. Once we finish this, we’re back on Meg. I promise.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

Then John spoke again, his voice lower, laced with something heavier than before.

“You’re getting attached.”

The words landed like a blow to the ribs.

Dean stilled.

Cordelia finally looked up from the TV. Sam abandoned the pretense of not listening, his fingers curling into the dish towel.

Dean forced a hollow chuckle. “What?”

“You know what,” John said, voice cold and clipped. “I warned you about her, boy, and now look at you. You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to? When did some crush become more important than your mother?”

Dean’s fingers tightened around the phone, his knuckles turning white.

John sighed, a sound weighted with finality. “Do what you want. But don’t forget why you’re out there.”

Then the line went dead.

Dean exhaled sharply and set his phone down—harder than necessary.

Cordelia, ever unfazed, flipped another channel. “Well,” she drawled, stretching her legs out on the couch, “that was tense.”

Marjorie moved toward Dean, reaching for his arm in a small, hesitant attempt at comfort.

“You alri—”

Dean jerked away, shrugging her off with a roughness that wasn’t entirely intentional. “I’m fine.” His voice was sharp. Clipped. He turned on his heel. “I gotta go get some stuff. Be back in twenty.”

He grabbed his jacket off the couch in one fluid motion and stomped toward the door, slamming it behind him with enough force to make the walls rattle.

Marjorie scowled, throwing her hands up in exasperation before flopping onto the couch beside Cordelia.

“Men.”

They said it in unison.

From the sink, Sam let out a barely contained snicker.

*****

The air outside was thick with the scent of pine and earth, the evening still humming with the remnants of the summer heat. The back porch creaked under Marjorie’s weight as she stepped outside, a glass of wine perched inbetween her fingertips. Dean was already there, lounging on the old wooden swing, one foot braced against the railing to make it sway in a steady rhythm. He was still in the same clothes as earlier; hadn’t even taken off his boots when he got back to Cordelia’s. He didn’t look up when she approached, but there was a tension set in his shoulders that told her she knew she was there. 

Sam was perched on the porch railing, leaning back with his arms crossed against his chest, his face lit only by the soft glow of the setting sun and the illuminating porch light. He hadn’t said much since Dean got back, but his posture was relaxed, which for Sam, was probably the closest he got to being at ease. 

Marjorie hesitated for a moment, looking between the two men. The weight of John’s call earlier, hell the few weeks, was pressing on her chest, and she could feel exhaustion in every muscle. But there was something about the quiet of the night, the low chirping of cicadas, being here with them, that made it a bit easier to breathe. 

Dean shifted slightly on the swing, and the motion pulled her out of the spot. He patted the spot beside him without saying a word. 

It wasn’t much, but it was an invitation. 

She sat down in the free space next to him, her eyes darting over to Sam briefly. Her gave her a small, almost knowing smile before leaning back against the railing again, staring out at the backyard. 

Marjorie could feel Dean’s presence next to her, and for a moment, she let herself enjoy the silence, the only sounds being the creaking of the swing and the distant rustle of leaves.

The arm Dean had hanging over the back of the swing knocked against her shoulder with every sway of the seat. The warmth she felt was definitely just the wine. His fingers twitched a couple times, brushing against her skin lightly, almost featherlike. Neither of them did anything about it. 

It was a peaceful kind of tension. She didn’t know how long it would last, but she knew she didn’t want to be the one to break it. 

After a long moment, Sam broke the silence. “So, about Cordelia…” His voice was casual, but there was something about the way he phrased it that made it clear he had questions. 

Marjorie’s lips curved into a faint smirk. She leaned a bit more into Dean, the small swing not giving them much room for personal space. “What about her?”

Dean snorted, reaching for the beer bottle resting beside him on the swing’s armrest. “You mean, why does she hate me?”

Sam tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “I wasn’t gonna put it like that but, sure. Seems like you two have a special connection.” 

Dean groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hand. “I don’t get her. She’s got that vibe like she’s too cool for school. Hell, she thinks I’m the enemy.” His voice softened slightly, and Marjorie caught the hint of frustration in it. “I don’t know. Can’t seem to break that woman’s guard.”

Marjorie tilted her head, studying Deans profile for a moment. “She’s been through a lot,” she said quietly, her voice softer than intended. “Trust isn’t something that she just hands out.” Her fingers traced the rim of her cup, eyes unfocused as she thought about Cordelia’s hard exterior. 

“She loves Sam,” Dean complained, his fingers now grazing against the red strands of hair sitting next to him.

“Sam’s…nice,” Marjorie saw the way Dean’s face contorted as if he couldn’t believe she didn’t think he was sunshine and rainbows. “He’s not as rugged as you- he didn’t come barging in here like he owned the place. Plus, she has a thing for pretty brown hair.” She winked at Sam.

“Gross, Marj. She’s old enough to be our mom.”

Marjorie shrugged. She’d seen stranger things.

Sam’s gaze studied Marjorie’s relaxed attitude. The scene in front him him looking almost domestic.

“Maybe that’s why you two get along so well.” The words hung in the air, and Marjorie blinked, unsure of what Sam was getting at. 

Before she could ask, Dean shifted beside her, the action causing her to sink deeper into his side. 

“Don’t you start,” Dean muttered. 

Sam threw his head back, looking up at the sky, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “What? I’m just saying. You two have a thing for doing things the hard way.”

Dean’s lips twitched, but he didn’t laugh. “I don’t have thing, Sammy.”

Marjorie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, catching the way his lips turned into a tight, almost pained smile.

Something about it made her want to reach out, even if she didn’t know how. 

And then the moment passed, just as quickly as it had come. 

“You definitely have a thing.” Marjorie tilted her glass toward Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh, but it was obvious he wasn’t mad. He was the little brother, the one who always played the peacekeeper, and tonight, it felt like that role was written into the lines of his face. “I think we’ve both figured that out by now,” Sam said, then added with a grin.

Dean scowled at Sam but didn’t argue.

The evening stretched on, and for once, Marjorie didn’t feel like she was standing on the edge of something dark. She didn’t feel the weight of the past or the unrelenting pull of the wraith chasing her. Instead, she felt normal- like the kind of person who could laugh and joke with two brothers who had somehow become her allies in a world of chaos.

Dean shifted again, his thigh brushing against hers. They sat there, side by side, the easy warmth of the night wrapping around them like a blanket.

They existed in the same space, content to share the silence and the quiet rhythm of the swing creaking beneath them.

At some point, Dean nudged her with his shoulder, the playful grin creeping back into his voice. “So, you think Cordelia has a friend for me? S’ not fair that Sam gets all the fun.”

She arched an eyebrow, leaning just a little closer. “You’re a dog.”

He chuckled softly, the sound more real than it had been all day. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Her lips parted with a small, teasing smile. “It wasn’t meant as one.”

The evening stretched on, and the trio continued their stay on the porch, their voices mingling with quiet sounds of the night. 

Dean was mid-sentence, telling some old hunting story when Marjorie’s words cut through the comfortable banter with a sharp edge. 

“You guys can leave if you want.” 

Sam snapped his head over to her. He glanced at Dean, who was suddenly still beside her, a slight tension creeping into his posture. 

Dean, who’d been so lost in the conversation just moments before, now gave her his full attention, his brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?” His voice was low, the playful tone from earlier gone.

Marjorie shifted slightly on the swing, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She finally met Dean’s eyes, and there was a vulnerability there that she didn’t usually show. "You’re not really stuck here with me. This is your job- hunting down Meg. I know you’ve got bigger things to do. I wouldn’t blame you for leaving. You’ve got a lot on your plate, and I'm not some…side quest."

Sam’s gaze softened as he jumped down from the railing, his large frame blocking her view of the night sky. “Marjorie, no,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. He crossed the space between them and stopped a few feet away, as if he wasn’t sure how to approach her. “You’re not just some side quest.” He shot a glance at Dean before focusing on her again, his words sincere. “We don’t just leave people behind. That’s not how this works.”

Dean’s jaw tightened at Sam’s words, and for a moment, there was an awkward silence. Marjorie could see the flash of frustration in Dean’s eyes- he was tired, she knew that. But there was something more there, something that wasn’t just about their situation.

After a long pause, Dean finally spoke, his voice gruff. “You think we’d just walk away now? We’re a part of this, Marjorie.” He gave a short, dry laugh, as if he didn’t even believe what he was saying, but there was no denying the sincerity behind it. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing his tired eyes before turning to face her fully. “This thing with the wraith…it’s your fight, yeah, but that doesn’t mean we’re just gonna pack up and leave. We’re here. We finish it.”

Marjorie felt a strange weight lift from her chest, but there was still an ache there, a tightness she hadn’t realized was lingering.

Sam gave her a small, reassuring smile. “It’s not about the wraith. It’s about you. We’re not going anywhere until you’re safe. That’s the deal.” His voice was calm, a little like the brother Marjorie never asked for.

Her eyes softened at Sam’s words, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She swallowed hard and leaned back against the swing’s edge, letting out a quiet sigh.

Dean watched her carefully, his gaze more intense than usual, the weight of everything that had happened hanging between them. Finally, he spoke again, quieter this time. “Look, Marjorie… You think we don’t want to be here? You think this is some kind of burden? Nah, it’s not. We’re doing this because we want to. Yeah sure, at first we thought you and Meg were in kahoots, and honestly I was coming here to kill you,” He took a deep breath, his voice rough. “But obviously, I was wrong. We’re gonna help you.”

Marjorie looked away for a moment, her chest tight with something she couldn’t quite name. She felt a strange mix of gratitude and guilt- a nagging feeling that she shouldn’t be relying so much on them. But the warmth of their words, their concern, melted some of that doubt. She could feel the sincerity in every glance, every word.

"I’m just saying," she said, her voice quieter now. "You’ve been here for over a week and we’re only a bit closer to being able to kill this thing. You guys have to go save the world or something."

Dean cut her off with a shake of his head, the stubbornness in his voice as unmistakable as the set of his jaw. "We’re not going anywhere."

Sam nodded firmly, his smile softening as he glanced between them. "We’re gonna take care of it. After that, we’ll go find Meg."

Marjorie swallowed her words, a lump forming in her throat. She didn’t expect this level of care- not from them, not from anyone but Delia anymore. Just months ago Dean couldn’t be in the same room as her. It was overwhelming, in a way that made her feel like she might break, or maybe- just maybe- she might let herself believe in the possibility of something more.

She turned to Dean, her gaze softening, and allowed herself to breathe a little easier. “Thanks,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I-I wasn’t sure where I stood with you two. We don’t have the greatest history.”

Dean leaned back against the swing, the motion easy, casual, but his eyes never left hers. “That’s old news. Don’t sweat it.” he said simply, his voice quiet but certain. 

The words hung in the air for a long beat before Sam cleared his throat. “Well, if you two are done being all sentimental, I’m pretty sure there’s a stash of candy bars in the kitchen, and Cordelia isn’t awake to tell me they’re gonna rot my teeth.”

Dean snorted, breaking the tension with a laugh. “Sam’s right. We don’t want to exhaust ourselves on all this emotional crap.” He nudged Marjorie with his elbow. “Besides, there’s no way I’m letting you sit there and feel sorry for yourself.”

Marjorie chuckled softly,“Who says I’m feeling sorry for myself?” She raised an eyebrow teasingly at Dean.

Sam smiled, stepping back toward the door. “Oh, you’re definitely feeling something.”

Dean stood up, offering her a hand as he did. “You coming? I’m not letting Sam eat all of them. I need my chocolate too.”

Marjorie hesitated for a moment, looking up at him with a faint, teasing smile. “Are you sure you want to share with me?”

Dean’s lips twitched. “I’m a generous guy.”

“Generous? I’ve never seen you share anything willingly,” Sam chimed in from the doorway, shaking his head with a knowing grin.

The three of them shared a quiet laugh before heading inside. For now, Marjorie knew she didn’t have to do this alone. 

*****

It had been days since the phone call with John, and Marjorie hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was wrong. The wraith’s presence was like a shadow, always lurking just beyond the edge of her perception. At first, it had been whispers- a faint voice barely audible, like a soft breeze brushing against her ear. But now, it was louder, clearer, and it seemed to be coming from everywhere.

She sat alone in the kitchen, the flickering light above her casting odd shadows on the walls. Sam and Dean were in the next room, likely discussing their next move, but Marjorie couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything. The wraith’s voice was too loud. It had been for the past few days.

“You’re weak,” the voice crooned from the corners of her mind, the words curling like smoke around her thoughts. “You think they’ll save you? They won’t. You’re just a liability.”

Her hands shook as she set the coffee mug down on the counter, the sound of it clinking sharply in the quiet room. Her gaze flitted to the doorway, where Dean had been standing earlier, and for a moment, she saw him again- only it wasn’t Dean. The figure that filled the frame of the door had hollow eyes, a twisted grin, and an unmistakable air of malevolence.

“They’re just waiting for you to break,” the wraith whispered, its voice wrapping around her like chains. “You’re nothing but a ticking time bomb. They’ll leave you. They’ll all leave you in the end.”

Marjorie blinked rapidly, pushing the image away. Her pulse hammered in her ears, and she had to remind herself that it was just the wraith. It was not real.

She stood quickly, wiping her face as if to rid herself of the unwanted visions. The last few days had been a blur of hallucinations and taunts, each worse than the last. At times, she felt like she wasn’t even in control of her own body. The wraith had gotten inside her head, and it was starting to feel like the walls were closing in on her.

Dean moved to where she sat in the kitchen, his expression unreadable, but there was concern in his eyes. “You good?” His voice was steady, but there was a slight tightness to it, as if he could feel the shift in the air.

Marjorie didn’t trust her own voice. She nodded curtly, unable to shake the feeling that the wraith’s whispers were still echoing in her mind.

Dean’s gaze softened, and for a moment, she saw something flicker there- something more than just concern. “Don’t let it get to you.”

But Marjorie didn’t hear him. The wraith’s mocking voice came back, louder this time.

“They’re just lying to you. They don’t care. You’re nothing but a tool to them.”

Her chest tightened, and for a moment, she thought she might crumble. But she didn’t. Not yet.

“I need some air,” she muttered, forcing herself past Dean and out the door before he could stop her.

Dean’s voice trailed after her, low and urgent. “Marjorie-”

But she was already outside, pacing on the porch, trying to drown out the wraith’s voice with the cool night air.

Behind her, Cordelia stood by the door, watching with a careful, measured gaze. She’d seen it all- the way Marjorie began to flinch and cower, the way the wraith’s taunts had started to chip away at her. Cordelia watched the slow descent, seemingly out of nowhere, knowing exactly what it was like to feel the weight of something haunting you, pushing you to the edge. But she couldn’t let Marjorie see her own fears. Not now. Not when the girl needed her. 

Her chest tightened, but she shoved the feelings down, forcing a calm exterior. She should have known this would happen. The wraith was a curse, not just a creature. It would latch on, find a weakness, and exploit it- exactly what it had done to Marjorie. Her own secret crawled up her spine like a cockroach, suffocating her. Meg was back and she led the Winchester’s here. She had taunted Cordelia the same way the wraith was taunting Marjorie. If Marjorie found out- Cordelia didn’t believe the girl of cold murder, but she didn’t do well with betrayal.

But still, watching Marjorie like this, it felt wrong. Cordelia wasn’t someone to wear her emotions on her sleeve, even with Marjorie, but now as she saw the toll that the wraith was taking on the younger girl, she couldn’t help the bile that rumbled in her gut. She should be helping her more. She should be doing more than standing back. Selfishly, her fear of Meg interfering the second Cordelia made too much of an effort stopped her from giving Marjorie the comfort she deserved. If she did too much, Meg would find them and expose Cordelia to all of them. That she had once worked with Meg on deals just like Marjorie’s. That, deep down, she knew the wraith would be back one day- no one escapes a deal with a BloodWraith. That she could find Meg’s location in minutes, and the Winchester’s could have a shot at ending her. But that was uncertain, and Cordelia wasn’t one for wishful thinking.

She glanced at Sam, who was silently observing, his concern for Marjorie clear. Dean had gone silent, the tension in his body palpable. The unspoken bond between the three of them was tangible, and Cordelia knew she was the outsider here, unable to be part of that. But still, the guilt gnawed at her.

Marjorie was fading quickly and despite everything, Cordelia couldn’t ignore the pang of fear that she might lose her. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts. She loved Marjorie, truly. Looked at the girl like she had hung the stars in the sky. That’s why she was terrified. Terrified of seeing hate in Marjorie’s eyes and knowing it was directed at her. She couldn’t bear it. 

"I don’t know how much longer she can take this," Sam muttered, as though reading her mind. He was standing next to her now, his hand resting on the back of the porch railing, his eyes focused on Marjorie.

Cordelia’s gaze flickered to him before she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “She’s strong. She’ll push through it. But…”

Her voice faltered, and Sam’s brow furrowed in concern. "But what?"

But I’m scared, she thought. She couldn’t say it. Not now. Not when Marjorie needed every ounce of strength she had left to fight this. Cordelia bit her lip, staring at the woman she had known for so long, seen so many versions of, and cared for each of them. But still, she kept her secrets locked away.

“I just hope she can,” Cordelia said, her words edged with something more than just concern. It was fear. Fear that the wraith would break Marjorie. Fear that Marjorie would break them- and maybe it wasn’t just the wraith she was afraid of.

The air grew heavier, the tension building between them as they watched Marjorie move through the haze of the wraith’s influence. Dean stepped forward, his hand gently landing on her shoulder as he joined her on the porch. The others followed suit, standing in a quiet solidarity.

But Cordelia couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. Whatever the wraith was doing to Marjorie, it was far from over.

*****

The wraith’s taunts were becoming more frequent, more aggressive. Every time she closed her eyes, it was there, twisting her thoughts, feeding on her doubts. Marjorie barely slept, knowing that even when she closed her eyes, the wraith would find a way in.

The silence in the room was oppressive, suffocating even. The air itself felt thick, as if the wraith had somehow infected every corner of the space, bending it to its will. Marjorie felt the walls closing in around her, her breath shallow as the taunts continued to echo in her mind.

"You don’t belong here," the wraith whispered again, its voice cold and biting. "They’ll all leave you eventually. You’re nothing to them, just a tool. Once they get what they need, they’ll cast you aside. Just like everyone else."

She shook her head, pressing her palms harder against her temples, trying to force the voice out, trying to push the suffocating weight of its words away. She didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t.

"You're worthless," the wraith’s voice came again, louder now, more insistent. "They’re already starting to see it. The cracks are already showing. They’ll know you’re weak. And then they’ll abandon you."

The world around her blurred, her vision swimming as the wraith’s words dug into her like sharp needles. She stumbled backward, the edge of the table digging into her ribs as she tried to steady herself. But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.

Except, in her heart, a tiny part of her wondered if it was. What if it was right? What if everyone else really would leave her? What if the wraith’s voice had seen the truth before she could? What if she was already a burden to them, already a failure?

"Marjorie?" Dean’s voice was soft now, more tentative. "We need to talk."

The sound of his voice snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in her chest. She could feel him standing outside the door, waiting, probably wondering why she hadn’t answered. But she couldn’t bring herself to respond, couldn’t let him hear how far gone she felt, how much the wraith had already taken from her.

"Yeah," she finally said, her voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper. "I’m fine. No need to get all soft."

The words felt like they were scraping against her throat, but they were the only ones she could force out.

A heavy silence followed, stretching between them like a chasm. She could almost feel Dean’s hesitation on the other side of the door, his concern mixing with something else- frustration, maybe. Was he angry with her? Did he think she was hiding something?

"We both know you’re not," Dean said quietly after a beat, his tone softer now, but still holding that edge of worry.

Marjorie didn’t respond. She couldn’t. If she did, she feared the crack in her composure would widen even further, and she’d be lost. She didn’t know how to explain it to him- how to make him understand the way the wraith had invaded her mind, how the darkness felt like it was eating her from the inside out. She couldn’t tell him how it whispered to her when no one else could hear it, how it twisted her every thought, every feeling.

She pressed her back into the wall, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to push the images and voices away. She could feel it all closing in again, the suffocating grip of the wraith creeping up on her, and the fear that it might be right- maybe she was weak, maybe she was just a failure.

But she wasn’t ready to let that truth- if it even was the truth- consume her. Not yet.

She opened her eyes slowly, and for a moment, just a moment, she could hear Dean on the other side, waiting, still unsure. His presence, even from behind the door, felt grounding, a reminder that maybe she wasn’t as alone in this as the wraith wanted her to think.

But still, she couldn’t let him in- not yet. Not until she could hold herself together, at least enough to face him without falling apart.

"Just give me a second," she finally whispered, so softly that she wasn’t sure he would hear it.

And for a long while, there was nothing. No answer, no footsteps retreating. Just silence. The kind of silence that left her trapped between her own thoughts and the wraith’s relentless whispers.

*****

The wraith didn’t let up. Not for a second.

Marjorie had barely slept in days, the taunts digging into her mind like claws, twisting her thoughts until she couldn’t tell what was real anymore. But tonight—it was worse.

She had been lulled into sleep, exhaustion finally winning out, but rest never came. Instead, she was there again. The house smelled of burning wood and blood, just as it had all those years ago.

And then, she saw her.

Eleanor.

Her daughter stood at the edge of the bed, small and fragile, just as she had been the last time Marjorie had seen her. Her dark curls were messy, her nightgown torn. But it was her eyes that made Marjorie’s stomach twist with terror- because they were filled with fear.

“Mama?” Eleanor’s voice wavered, tiny and afraid.

Marjorie couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

Then she saw what stood behind her.

The wraith loomed over Eleanor, its skeletal fingers curling around the girl’s small shoulders. It grinned, wide and monstrous, its yellowed teeth glistening in the dim light.

“You let me have her once,” it cooed, its voice echoing through the house. “You’ll let me have her again.”

“No,” Marjorie choked, finally finding her voice.

“Oh, but you will.”

The wraith’s grip tightened on Eleanor, and the little girl screamed- a heart-wrenching, piercing cry that shook the foundation of the dream itself.

Marjorie lunged forward, but the second she reached for her daughter, the image shattered.

She gasped awake, her body drenched in sweat, her heart slamming against her ribs. She was in her room at Cordelia’s, but it still felt like she was there, trapped in the nightmare.

The wraith’s laughter echoed in her skull.

Marjorie sat up, breathing hard. The truth hit her like a slap to the face.

This was never going to stop.

It would keep tormenting her, keep whispering in her ear, keep dragging her daughter into her nightmares. It would never stop unless she ended it herself.

Her hands trembled as she pushed the blankets aside. She wouldn’t let it win.

She wouldn’t let it take anything else from her.

Not now. Not ever.

She stood and crossed the room, grabbing the small bag she had packed earlier that day- just in case. Her fingers curled around the leather strap, and she took one last look at the room before slipping out the door.

She was doing this alone.

Because it had to be her.

*****

The stillness of the house was off.

It wasn’t the typical quiet of the night, where the wind rustled the leaves outside, and the world seemed to hum with secrets whispered just beyond reach. This silence felt wrong, sharp- a quiet that pressed on Dean’s chest like a weight, making him uneasy for reasons he couldn’t quite place.

He hadn’t been able to sleep, the tension from the last week still eating at him. They had now been at Cordelia’s for two weeks, and each day Marjorie seemed to get worse and worse. After hours of tossing and turning, he’d given up on rest. Coffee was the only thing that could numb the gnawing discomfort that had taken root. As he passed Marjorie’s door on the way to the kitchen, a fleeting thought stopped him in his tracks.

Her door was cracked open.

A thread of anxiety coiled tight in his gut.

"Marjorie?" Dean called softly, his voice cutting through the oppressive stillness. His feet carried him closer to the door before he even realized it.

There was no answer.

He pushed the door open, his heart rate picking up, eyes scanning the dark room. The moonlight streamed across the bed, empty but for tangled blankets. The missing bag from the corner, the one she’d packed earlier, was gone.

And then it hit him.

She was gone.

Dean muttered a curse under his breath, his body already moving in the direction of the stairs, a cold, familiar panic curling at the edges of his mind.

“Son of a bitch.”

He stormed down the hallway, intent on finding her, his thoughts running wild. The wraith. She was going after the wraith. And she was doing it alone. Damn it, she was reckless, always so damn reckless.

Sam was already awake when he appeared at the door of the backporch, rubbing his face and trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “What’s wrong?” he asked, blinking at his brother.

“She’s gone.” Dean didn’t stop to explain, barely slowing his pace as he strode past Sam.

Sam frowned, confusion still clouding his features. “Wait, what?”

“She took off. Packed a bag. No sign of her anywhere.” Dean reached for his jacket, frustration mounting with every second that passed.

Cordelia appeared then, emerging from the shadows like a shadow herself, her sharp eyes immediately landing on Dean. “What’s all the noise?”

“Marjorie’s missing,” Dean snapped, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in on him.

Cordelia’s face darkened, a storm brewing in her expression. “Damn it.”

Dean’s frustration bubbled over. “You knew she’d do this?”

“I suspected she might,” Cordelia admitted, her voice tight with a mixture of anger and fear. She grabbed her coat, her movements precise. “But I was hoping she'd have enough sense to wait.”

Sam, ever the detective, was already putting the pieces together. “She’s going after the wraith.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, the words coming out in a tight, exasperated breath. “Yeah. Thanks, Sherlock.”

Cordelia’s jaw tightened, her eyes flickering with a mix of concern and something darker, something she couldn’t quite hide. “Then we’d better move.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a look, that silent agreement passing between them like a spark. No hesitation. No second thoughts. They couldn’t let Marjorie go face the wraith alone. Not now. Not after everything she’d been through.

Dean grabbed his keys, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “Let’s go.”

As they rushed out of the house, Cordelia’s thoughts churned, a storm she struggled to contain. She was terrified for Marjorie, of course. But that wasn’t the only thing keeping her up at night. If Marjorie went after the wraith, if she confronted it—there was a real chance that Cordelia’s secret, the one she’d buried so deep inside for so long, could come to light. And if it did—if the brothers found out what she was hiding—there was no telling what would happen next.

She could feel it closing in on her, that dark fear that she might lose everything she’d worked so hard to protect.

And maybe, just maybe, that was what scared her more than anything else.

*****

The abandoned warehouse loomed out before Marjorie like a hollow, forgotten shell. The air inside was thick with decay, the once strong structure now bowing under years of neglect. The cieling, lined with rusted beams, creaked and groaned in protest as the wind outside clawed at the walls, but in here, it was dead quiet. The scent of damp earth and rotting wood mingled with the sharp, pungent tang of incense, creating a strange tension that clung to the air, making every breath feel heavy.

The candlelight flickered, casting long, distorted shadows that stretched across the cracked concrete floor. Marjorie moved carefully, each step deliberate as she centered herself within the sigil-marked containment circle. The symbols were intricate and glowing faintly- a brilliant blue- barely visible in the dark, but they had been drawn with precision, each stroke of chalk and blood a calculated effort to trap the wraith. 

An incessant drip fell to the floor, the thick, crimson liquid draining from her now cut wrist and plummeting to the floor with each step she took. The pain from the cut did not phase her- one, insignificant injury was helping her end this. 

Her fingers tightened around the relic she had brought- the locket. It was small, fragile, and twisted from the fire that had destroyed everything she had once known. No one knew she had kept the jewelery- she was scared it would be taken from her. The delicate metal had been burned, the glass cracked, but it was still there, the remnants of her daughters life. A life lost. A past that haunted her.

She had allowed Eleanor to occupy her thoughts more in the past two weeks than she had since the day she lost her. Perhaps it was Cordelia’s warmth and admiration, or maybe it was the way Sam looked at her with those soulful, puppy-dog eyes when he asked about what happened. Or maybe it was how Dean gazed at her, as if they were the only two people in that diner, while she rambled on and on about her little girl. She wasn’t sure what it was. But one thing was clear: she had stopped avoiding it, letting the brothers slip past the walls she’d worked so hard to fortify.

Her heart hammered in her chest, as she knelt before the circle, placing the locket directly in the center. This was the final step. The wraith would come for her, of course. It had been lurking in the shadows, feeding off her fear, her grief. But this time, it wouldn’t win. This time, she would take back control.

The chanting started, the words flowing from her lips, ancient and familiar, yet foreign at the same time. Latin. Or perhaps something older. Something her grandmother had once spoken, something that had been passed down through generations of women who had carried their power in silence. She didn’t understand all of it, but she didn’t need to. She knew the intent. She knew what needed to be done.

The air around her vibrated with energy as she spoke the incantation, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. The sigils around the circle flared to life, glowing brighter as the ritual took hold.

For a moment, everything was still.

And then, the wraith answered.

A gust of wind, sharp and sudden, whipped through the space, though the windows were shattered long ago. The candles flickered wildly, casting strange, erratic shadows against the walls. Marjorie felt the shift in the air, the temperature plummeting, the weight of it pressing against her skin like a heavy hand.

It was here.

Her breath hitched as the whispering started, faint at first, like the rustling of leaves on a distant breeze. But then it grew louder- closer. A sound that slid under her skin, into her bones.

“Marjorie…”

The voice was soft at first, almost tender, like a memory. But there was a dark edge to it, a twist that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She gritted her teeth, trying to keep her focus. This was it. This was the moment she had been preparing for. The wraith would show itself, and she would confront it. She had no choice.

“Mama…”

Her heart stopped, and for a moment, she felt the ground beneath her shift. She could hear it so clearly- Eleanor’s voice, sweet and innocent, calling to her from the depths of the memory she had worked so hard to bury. It was different than her dream. Eleanor was here. The same voice that had echoed in her ears the night of the fire. The same voice that haunted her dreams, her waking hours.

The memory hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with the force of something she couldn’t outrun. She was back there, back in that horrible place. The heat of the flames licking at her skin. The smoke that had suffocated her. The crackle of fire eating away at everything she had ever loved.

“No…” Marjorie whispered. She couldn’t. She couldn’t let herself go back there. Not again. Not now.

But the wraith was relentless. It wasn’t just a shadow. It was a memory made flesh, a cruel manipulation of everything Marjorie had ever feared.

The temperature dropped further, the air thickening with a cold that bit into her skin. The warehouse seemed to darken, the walls stretching and shifting as though the very space itself was warping under the wraith’s influence.

And then she heard it- the scream.

It was so real, so visceral, that Marjorie felt her chest tighten, her breath catching in her throat. She could see it now- Elanor’s face, pale and twisted with pain, her small body writhing as the flames consumed her. The smoke choked her, and the heat was unbearable. The vision was vivid, too vivid, like it was happening all over again.

“Eleanor…” The name slipped from her lips, a cry of agony that she couldn’t hold back.

The wraith was feeding on her grief, on the weakness it had always known was there.

But Marjorie fought to stay grounded. She could feel the ritual pulling at her, the energy of the sigils battling against the wraith’s pull. She had to stay strong. She had to let go.

“Mamma… Help me…”

Eleanor stood before her. Barefoot. Soot-stained. Brown eyes hollowed by death. 

“Why didn’t you save me?”

The words dug in like barbs. Marjorie’s entire body went rigid, the knife in her hand growing impossibly heavy.

“You let me burn.”

The words twisted, warping into something grotesque, the voice no longer her child’s, but something ancient and cruel. The girl’s lips turned into a sneer, her small hands flexing as nails blackened and sharpened into talons.

“You let me die, screaming for you.”

Marjorie staggered back, nausea curling in her stomach.

“No, El, I swear. I tried everything. Baby, there were too many of them.”

“You were supposed to be powerful, mama. You left me alone. I have no one.”

“You’re not real.” Marjorie jammed her fists into the side of her head, over and over again, trying to rid the image of her dead daughter standing in front of her.

The wraith was a parasite, feeding on the worst parts of her. It was using her love for Eleanor as a weapon, twisting it into something ugly.

Eleanor was gone. The child she couldn’t save was lost to the flames.

The wraith wasn’t her. It wasn’t Eleanor. It was just an echo, a twisted thing that had been feeding off her pain.

Marjorie’s eyes snapped open, and she stood taller, her hands clutching the blade. “You cant control me anymore,” she hissed, her voice steady, almost cold.

The wraith’s form flickered and shuddered, its distorted figure contorting as it reached out toward her. The air around them seemed to scream with a deafening roar, the force of the wraith’s power shaking the very foundation of the warehouse.

But Marjorie didn’t flinch. The fire in her veins wasn’t just from the ritual-it was from the anger. She wasn’t just fighting the wraith. She was fighting her own weakness.

The sigils around her flared with light as the wraith fought to maintain its form. The more Marjorie accepted the truth, the more it shrank, its ethereal body weakening.

“I’m not scared of you.”

And then, just as it seemed the wraith was about to snap into full corporeal form, the door to the warehouse crashed open.

Cordelia stepped into the room, her eyes wide with shock at the sight of the writhing shadow in front of Marjorie. She hesitated, fear flashing across her face as she watched the battle unfold.

“Marjorie, you-” she started, but Marjorie didn’t listen. Her focus was fixed entirely on the wraith, her grip tightening on the blade she had drawn earlier- a consecrated weapon soaked in blood. The ritual was almost complete. The wraith was vulnerable.

Suddenly, the air felt alive, buzzing with malignant energy, and a whisper cut though the stillness. 

“Cordelia, how nice of you to join us.”

Marjorie stiffened. Her eyes flickered toward Cordelia, who had stepped back slightly, her expression panicked. Marjorie’s pulse quickened- what was going on?

A soft laugh echoed, cruel and guttual, from somewhere deep in the shadows. The sound twisted, warping, and then the wraiths form expanded- larger and stronger than before. It was using Cordelia’s fear. 

It’s eyes, dark and glistening with malicious intent were fixed on Cordelia.

“Oh this one,” the wraith hissed, stretching its words like a snake, mockery evident in its words. “She’s so good at pretending, isn’t she? At hiding her true nature… her secrets…”

Marjorie’s heart stopped for a moment, but her stance stayed firm and her eyes didn’t leave the wraith. She could feel Cordelia stiffen, but her hands rattled against her sides. 

“You think you’re so clever, Cordelia… you think you’ve hidden it all so well… but I see you… I know you…” The wraith’s form flickered and rippled, growing more solid with each passing second. Its voice grew louder, more distorted, like the scraping of nails on a chalkboard. “How many times have you danced with darkness, hmm? How many times have you betrayed those you claimed to love?”

Cordelia’s breath caught. Marjorie’s eyes widened as she saw the flicker of panic in Cordelia’s eyes- the subtle tremble of her shoulders. It was the same look Marjorie had seen in her own reflection, the same terror of being exposed, of being known for something terrible. The wraith was feeding on that fear, twisting it into something sharp, something deadly.

The wraith’s laugh echoed, guttural and sharp. “Poor, poor Cordelia… how many times did you think you could lie to her?” It was a sickening mockery of sympathy. “You think you’ve escaped your past, but I know what you did.”

Marjorie’s mind spun, and suddenly the pieces started clicking into place. The way Cordelia had always been so protective, so careful with Marjorie. The unspoken tension. The guarded glances. The secrets she’d kept hidden beneath the surface.

The wraith’s shadowy form grew bolder, twisting into something almost human now, a grotesque, sneering parody of a person. The voice that came from it was now low and slithering. “What was it you offered to get all of this? To live this lie? Tell her, Cordelia… tell her what you’ve done.”

Cordelia’s hand tightened at her side, her knuckles white. “No- stop,” she hissed, stepping back. But the wraith’s voice only grew louder.

“You don’t have to hide anymore, Cordelia. I know. I see you. How much blood has stained your hands? How many people have you thrown away to keep yourself safe?” The wraith took a step forward, its eyes glowing with cruel delight. “How you led me right to your precious Marjorie. You and Meg. Does she know that you were one of my best soldiers? How you found all those sad, innococent people and tricked them into deals? How you’re the reason I am here in the first place.”

Marjorie’s pulse thundered in her ears, her stomach twisting as she watched Cordelia’s mask crack, just a little. Just enough for her to see it- the fear. The guilt. The truth.

“I- I didn’t-” Cordelia’s voice was shaky, her lips pressing together as if she were struggling to keep herself from breaking down. But the wraith didn’t give her the space to explain. It wasn’t interested in explanations. It was interested in torment.

You think I didn’t see the way you looked at her? How you tried to control everything around you?” The wraith’s sneering face moved closer to Cordelia, its shadow darkening her features. “You were never just her ally, were you, Cordelia? You were her jailer. You thought you could hold her down, keep her from realizing the truth about herself. About you.”

The air was thick with tension, a mixture of guilt, betrayal, and suffocating fear. Marjorie could feel it pulling at her, tightening around her chest, but she didn’t look away. She couldn’t. Not now. She had to see it. She had to know.

The wraith wasn’t done. It turned its attention back to Marjorie, its mocking grin widening.

“You think she’s your ally? Your friend? Your savior?” It twisted the words, each syllable laden with contempt. “What happens when you find out she’s been playing you all along? Without her, you would’ve never made that deal with me. Would’ve never had the false hope of a daughter reborn- would’ve never had to see sweet Eleanor die for a second time.”

Marjorie’s blood ran cold as the wraith’s form flickered and twisted. Its laughter echoed one last time before it finally evaporated, leaving only the cold, suffocating silence that remained between them.

For a moment, no one spoke. No one moved.

Cordelia stood frozen, her face pale, her eyes wide with something that was a mix of shame and terror. The breath left her in a shaky exhale, as though the wraith’s words had carved deep into her, leaving marks that would never fully fade.

Marjorie’s heart pounded, a cold rage beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t just confronted the wraith tonight- she’d confronted her own darkest memories. But Cordelia had betrayed her, too. The truth was undeniable now.

Cordelia had known. She had known the wraith’s true power, and she had been hiding it all along, playing a dangerous game with both Marjorie and herself.

Marorie turned to Cordelia now, blazing tendrils of blue surging down her arms and curling around her hands. “You knew.” Her voice was tight, controlled. “You did this to me.”

Cordelia opened her mouth, but the words came out weak, barely a whisper. “My girl, I didn’t-”

“You brought that thing to me. You knew I would say yes- that I would die.”

Marjorie’s voice cracked. Cordelia had been just as much part ofthis as the wraith. 

“I left that life behind,” Cordelia’s voice was choked, full of something that could’ve been regret. Probably fear. “I chose you. I protected you for years, Marjorie. Everything I did- it was to keep you safe.”

“You lied to me.”

“I had to.”

“No, you didn’t!” Marjorie’s entire being was shaking now. The ground beneath them rumbled slightly, shaking the old building like the wind in a thunderstorm. 

Cordelia, her Cordelia, the woman who had raised her, cared for her, loved her- had been hiding this from her the entire time. 

The wraiths form flickered again, its mocking laughter filling the room with the worst kind of poison. “It’s too late now, Cordelia. She’s got you all figured out.”

Marjorie barely heard it. 

Her eyes were locked on Cordelia’s, searching for something, anything that would make this hurt less. 

“Do you have any regrets?” she whispered. “Doing this to me?”

Cordelia swallowed hard. “Every day.”

The wraith laughed again. 

"Tell me, Marjorie-if I let you hear her voice again, if I let you see her little face just one more time-would you let me in? Would you let me crawl inside your head, take all that grief, all that guilt, and make it stop?"

It stopped in front of her, right in her face, breath like spoiled meat.

"You want that, don’t you? To be free of this?"

Her throat was so tight she could barely breathe.

For a terrifying, shameful second-she did want that.

No more waking up gasping for air.

No more hearing screams in her dreams.

No more guilt sinking its claws into her ribs.

Just… nothing.

But then she thought of Cordelia’s voice, steady even in her betrayal.

She thought of Dean’s concern, of Sam’s quiet faith in her, of the life she had built-however fragile.

She thought of everything this thing had taken from her.

She would not let it win.

"No."

The wraith’s grin twisted into something monstrous.

"Liar."

It lunged.

Marjorie barely had time to react before it was on her, knocking the knife from her grasp. She hit the ground hard, the impact rattling her bones.

Cold fingers wrapped around her throat.

Her vision blurred, the air squeezed from her lungs.

The wraith hovered over her, its face shifting-Eleanor, Cordelia, Meg, even herself.

It wanted to break her.

To own her.

Her fingers scraped against the floor, desperate, searching-until they curled around something familiar.

Cold metal.

The locket.

The last thing she had of Eleanor.

The offering she had used to summon this monster.

Marjorie gritted her teeth.

With the last of her strength, she slammed the locket against the wraith’s forehead.

The sigils in the containment circle flared to life, blinding-bright.

The wraith let out a shriek of agony, its grip loosening just enough for Marjorie to throw it off. She scrambled to her feet, gasping, reaching for the knife-

And then it was just her and the wraith, both on their knees, facing each other.

Marjorie lifted the blade.

The wraith smiled.

"Do it, then."

Marjorie’s breath was ragged.

The wraith wanted her to kill it in anger. It thrived on rage, on suffering.

But it wouldn’t get that.

Not from her.

"Shut. Up," she whispered.

She drove the blade into its heart.

The wraith screamed, its form twisting, breaking. Its body blackened, its flesh curling away in wisps of ash as the containment circle erupted in light.

For a brief, agonizing moment, its shifting form locked onto Eleanor’s face one last time.

Marjorie clenched her jaw.

"Go to Hell."

With a final, piercing shriek—

The wraith was gone.

Ashes scattered to the warehouse floor.

But the silence that followed felt different. Empty. Marjorie stood there, panting, the blade still in her hand, staring at the spot where the wraith had once been.

Cordelia stepped forward hesitantly, her face pale, eyes full of something Marjorie didn’t recognize-fear, regret, and guilt all mixed into one fragile expression.

Marjorie turned her back on her, unable to face her any longer. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, but there was something else now. Something cold.

She turned to leave.

“I trusted you,” Marjorie said , her voice low, almost calm now. “I trusted you and you didn’t care. One-hundred and fourteen years, Cordelia. That’s how long you’ve had to tell me. ”

“Marjorie-”

“The worst part about all of it, is that if you asked me now, I would probably forgive you.”

Cordelia flinched as though struck, her mouth opening and closing, desperate to find words that could undo the weight of what had just happened. But there was nothing. No excuse, no justification that could erase the truth.

Marjorie stopped at the threshold of the warehouse, her back still to Cordelia. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of burned wax and old blood, remnants of the ritual that had bound and killed the wraith. But the betrayal, the realization that Cordelia had been playing her all along- that was what suffocated her now.

Slowly, she turned her head, her voice barely above a whisper, but sharp enough to cut like a blade.

“If I ever see you again…” She let the words hang in the air, thick with unspoken threat. “I will kill you.”

Cordelia sucked in a breath, but she didn’t move, didn’t try to stop her.

Marjorie didn’t wait for a reply. She turned and stepped out into the night, her boots crunching against the gravel outside the warehouse. The air was cold against her skin, but inside, she was burning.

She didn’t look back.

*****

Marjorie didn’t stop walking until she reached the edge of the warehouse lot, where the Imapala was parked haphazardly, its doors already open. Sam and Dean stood by the car, tense, weapons in hand. Deans face was a storm of emotion- anger, concern, something deeper he couldn’t put a name to. Sam looked exhausted, eyes flickering between her and the warehouse like he was still piecing everything together.

She barely registered them. Her body felt like it was moving on auto-pilot, her hands shaking as the adrenaline wore off. The night was still, unnervingly so, after everything that had just happened. 

Dean was the first to speak. “Marjorie.”

She didn’t stop. Didn’t acknowledge him.

He took a step forward, cutting off her path before she could get any further. “What the hell happened in there?”

Marjorie didn’t look at him, her eyes somewhere else, far away from any of them. She was breathing hard, the taste of ash and blood lingered on her tongue. “It’s dead,” she said flatly.

Dean searched her face. “Cordelia?”

A muscle in her jaw twitched. “Gone.”

Sam stepped forward, cautious. “Gone?”

“I told her I’d kill her if I saw her again, so for her sake. I hope she’s long gone.”

Silence. The weight of her words hung heavy between them.

Deans mouth pressed into a tight line, but he didn’t argue. He just watched her, eyes scanning every inch of her like he was trying to make sure she was still standing, still her. 

Sam, however, frowned. “Marj…”

“Don’t.” She shook her head, her voice raw. “Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Sam backed off, knowing better than to push her right now. 

Dean took a second step forward. “You’re bleeding.”

Marjorie finally blinked, looking down at her hands. Her knuckles were raw, her nails still lined with the remnants of the ritual. The deeper wound on her arm, a thin angry cut from where she bled to summon the raise pulsed quickly.

She swallowed. “It’s a paper cut.”

“Yeah, well, your ‘paper cut’ needs stitches,” Dean muttered, already moving toward the trunk of the Impala to grab their make-shift first aid kit. 

Marjorie watched him for a second, some of the ice in her chest cracking, just barely. Then she let out a slow breath and sat down on the open passenger seat of the car, her body finally succumbing to the exhaustion she had been pushing back.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Dean said after a moment. “Not now.”

Marjorie gave a short, bitter laugh. “Good.”

Dean retuned with the first aid kit and knelt beside her. “This is gonna sting.”

Marjorie met his gaze and sighed, “Go ahead.”

As Dean cleaned her arm, his hands careful but firm. Marjorie leaned her head against the door, her eyes fluttering shut. Sam stood next to her, giving her shoulder a squeeze everytime she would wince. 

Dean finished wrapping the gauze around her arm, his mouth set in that gruff, focused line. Marjorie watched the muscle in his jaw ticked, the way he worked through his emotions by doing something. She wanted to say something- maybe to ground herself, maybe to pull the concern off his face- but nothing same.

“We should go,” Dean spoke, rising from his kneeling position.

Marjorie blinked, her gaze stuck to him. He wasn’t looking at her, but his tone was pointed.

Sam looked down at his brother. “Go where?”

“Meg.” Dean exhaled. “She’s still out there, and after everything tonight…” He hesitated, then finally locked eyes with Marjorie. “She’s numero dos, isn’t she?”

Sam scoffed. “Hold on, you’re telling me we’re going into this with no rest, no plan- just full-speed ahead to whatever the hell Meg’s got waiting for us?”

“Yes,” Marjorie’s voice was steady. “And I’m coming with.”

Sam’s eyes snapped to her. “You just took on the wraith alone, and now you want to go hunt a demon?”

She lifted her chin. “I’m not sitting around while she’s still out there.”

Sam shifted, like he agreed but didn’t quite want to say it aloud. 

Dean let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. “I swear to God, you two are gonna kill me.”

Marjorie smirked, just a little. “You’d be bored otherwise.”

Dean shot her a look, but there wasn’t real heat behind it.

Sam cleared his throat, pushing off the car. “We need to figure out where she is. I’ll dig into possible leads, but she’s smart- she’s not gonna make it easy.”

“Perfect,” Marjorie muttered, rubbing her now bandaged arm.

Dean pointed at her. “You are getting rest first.”

She opened her mouth to argue. 

“Not negotiable,” he added.

Marjorie huffed, but didn’t push. 

Sam pulled out his phone, already scanning for anything that might give them a lead. “Marjorie, get some sleep.”

She nodded, moving to crawl into the back seat. Dean moved toward’s the drivers side, but before he climbed in he shot her another glance.

“You’re with us now, huh?”

Marjorie tilted her head back against the worn leather. “Guess so.”

Dean shook his head, but a faint smile made its way to his face. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Sam snorted.

Marjorie gave him a wink, allowing herself to relax into the seats, eyes falling shut once again. 

Despite the exhaustion, despite everything, they were a trio now. And now matter what came next, they were in it together. 

*****

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #51 – Monstress Volume 8: Inferno by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda

This is the last volume of Monstress that’s currently published and (since vol. 9 is coming out in November) the second-last I’m going to read this year. Which could be either a good or a bad thing, I suppose. This is the first volume I can say I genuinely didn’t enjoy, not even grading on a curve fro the highs of the rest of the series but in general. Not awful, but not good either – by far the most ‘comic-bookey’ plot arc so far, and I really don’t mean that as a compliment.

Through a variety of contrivances involving Maika’s friends journeying to the centre of her mind to try and wake her up from her coma and finding a massive and seemingly living statue of Adara Farclaw – the previously semi-mythical ancient hero-sage of the cats – our main cast (plus the ghost of Maika’s childhood self created by the sheer intensity of her own self-loathing) find themselves on the prison world where Zinn trapped all his kin to keep them from devouring the world we’re more familiar with back in pre-history. They’ve adapted surprisingly well, adopting humanoid forms and farming for the food they need. Immortal but sterile, their history since has been dominated by an endless race war between the first generation Fallen Houses (Zinn’s peers) and the second-generation and much reduced in grandeur (but increased in numbers) Defiled. Zinn, Maika, and the fragment of the Shaman-Empresses’ mask they brought with them are a chance to upset the balance of power, or perhaps even escape – and both sides are willing to do anything it takes for that chance.

Though all that plot aside, the actual point of the volume is to a) provide great reams of lore on the Monstra in general and Zinn’s past and present relationship with the rest of their species in particular and b) give Maika a chance to work on her self-esteem issues and guilt over accidentally killing and eating her mom as a child by providing a tulpa of 10-year-old her to scream at, protect, and reconcile with. Also a bunch of stuff about cats.

I can see the version of this story that works for me, at least in broad strokes. But yeah, the one that actually exists really didn’t. The largest part of that is just allocation of narrative resources, I think? As the book goes on, it has become steadily less interested in the themes and aesthetics I find more compelling to focus on it’s deep lore mythohistory and melodrama among the elder gods, to the point of just leaving the actual setting with its fascinating politics and societies entirely for basically the last two volumes. It begins to make me question why I’m still reading. Maika as a character is profoundly interesting, but having her just clearly announce her issues to a literal embodiment of them is not, to me, particularly compelling reading.

On an aesthetic level, the strange and alien prison planet let me deeply unimpressed. It was all so..familiar. Even the two warring nations of eldritch god-monster have ended up basically human-sized and human-shaped, farming and eating and using tools and building structures in instantly recognizable ways. There’s an excuse offered, but I’m still left wondering why even bother if it’s going to be so unspectacular.

I also found myself disappointing in how...monotonous, I suppose? The aesthetics of technology are growing to be. The guns, tools and armour of these cat worldwalkers who’ve been living underground on this prison world for centuries look almost identical to what technology of the Shaman Empress and the toys the Blood Court uses and- Even if you can torture and justify it all to make sense, it just gets boring and samey eventually, you know? Makes the world feel small.

Which is related to my thematic issues with the volume, in a way. The story is clearly much more interested in the grand, superhuman drama of the monstra, the exploration of multiple worlds and lost continents, space age high technology, more species and relics and myths and just – it all piles up so much that the result just ends up feeling more generic and boring than the more focused and detailed world of the first few volumes was. This is made far worse (for me, anyway) by the fact that Zinn seems to have been personally involved with literally every major historical personage that was mentioned at any point.

The most concise way to put it is that at the start of the story Maika et al really felt like people inhabiting a world, and now it’s at Star Wars levels of the world feeling like a canvas for a specific set of people’s melodrama. Nothing wrong with that, in the slightest – I just prefer the other, and feel a bit cheated by the shift.

On a different thematic level I kept waiting for some real, like, narrative pushback or reversal about how the Defiled are treated as these disgusting morally abhorrent abominations for the fundamental crime of being genetically impure and ‘spiritually mutilated’ and...never really got it?

Anyway, pacing wise the arc is much too short to be a complete, satisfying version of the story it wants to tell, and much, much too long to be a part of the longer story it is a detour from. The story never becomes offensively bad, but I am honestly reading as much out of inertia as anything by now.

[bewitchingbloom]

February reading wrap-up! I didn't read as much as I wanted to; Avowed really absorbed my attention during the week I had off and I didn't touch a single book that week 😅 That said, it was a really good reading month! Thoughts below the cut.

The Bride Test was the book I read for the IRL book club I attended. It's a contemporary romance, and I really liked it! The premise made me a bit wary at first, as "arranged marriage" is not a trope I thought I'd like. Thankfully the author assuaged my reservations early on, and there was a lot I really enjoyed about this book. I found the main characters easy to like and root for, one of the supporting characters was hilarious and made me laugh out loud several times, and overall I think Helen Hoang did a good job writing a sweet rom-com that tackles some sensitive subject matter in a nuanced way. I gave it a 3.75 out of 5 as there was one subplot that didn't work for me and I did find some of the adult content to be a bit much.

Now, The Two Towers I have thoughts on. Obviously I'm familiar with Lord of the Rings because of the films, but this is my first reading of the trilogy and. I'm gonna be honest with you all. I find Tolkien's a bit long-winded for my tastes. I still enjoy the story for the most part, I just find how much time we spend on certain things to be a bit...unnecessary, I guess? The pacing is also very slow, which isn't something I typically enjoy. THAT SAID, I do still love the story and the characters. Standouts for me were the scene in Fangorn Forest where Gandalf kinda trolls Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas before revealing he's alive; everything about Merry, Pippin, and the Ents; and Frodo and Sam's trials and tribulations with getting into Mordor with Gollum as their guide. I gave it 4 out 5 stars.

Last, I literally just finished Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales earlier tonight. This was such a wonderful send-off to this trilogy. I continued to love and adore Emily and Wendell, both together and apart. Heather Fawcett really wove the plot of this last book so well; the foreshadowing really helped create the impact she wanted, and the prose and pacing was fantastic. I want to keep this spoiler-free since this book just came out, but I will say...Wendell is definitely what I want from more love interests in romances. He knows Emily so well, and his gesture at the end of the book actually made me a bit emotional. Anyways, 5 out of 5 stars, this trilogy definitely has a future as a comfort read series for me.

Next month I'll be reading Educated by Tara Westover (for book club), Wild Dark Shore by Charlotte McConaghy (won a copy of the audiobook through StoryGraph) and potentially Heavenly Tyrant by Xiran Jay Zhao (pending library hold). Also Monstress by Marjorie Liu - I expect I'll be posting a lot of books in next month's wrap up lol

[mondritter]

You know, it's nice to see that I'm not the only one who felt... uneasy(?) about Buckynat getting back together after a decade 🙃

I mean I'm glad, the war is over (permanently I hope FGS), it's been so long but I DON'T LIKE THAT IT WAS WITH THOSE WRITERS and all the circumstances were... Weird and out of the blue? A bit sudden because in Cold War nothing relevant happened... And in Thunderbolts most of the same imo.

I mean why JUST NOW Nat finally decided to go back to him? I want to know her motivations, her thoughts, she's been through so much since The Widow Hunt and yet we don't really know what she thinks about it all.

And apparently those writers are going to write more stuff about them(?)

Look, I would love for an ongoing (I'm a bit tired of minis) for either Bucky or Nat or both separately, with recurring appearances of them in each other's run, appearing at crucial moments, as a cameo or a mention, so that they can be their own characters and not have to be tied to each other, and the reason I wouldn't want a run of the two of them together is because I think there are really very few writers who could handle them both well at the same time.

And I get the impression that if what it turns out those writers are hinting at is a Nat AND Bucky comic, they will end up using her as just a romantic interest and I don't like it at all.

I think I've already commented that I haven't liked how they've written Bucky since Devil's Reign, which happened 2 years ago and so far they haven't given me a reason to change my opinion, if they haven't been able to give a good writing to Bucky which is supposed to have been their main character, most likely they'll end up doing something worse with Nat 😭😭😭

It's as if we can never take a break 😂😭🫠

Well, I just wanted to get this off my chest to see if I could finally calm down a bit LMAO

I can only continue to pray for the miracle of Marjorie Liu writing them both because she is my personal favorite and one of the few I think can put them in a good place 🫡

[residentevil-4]

im so obsessed with the Nursery Verse discourse on tiktok. long post incoming, this became a whole article on accident

recap: thenursery_nurse is a one-woman tiktok/facebook series made by a woman named Charlotte that started as the woman's recounting of her time as a nursery worker (and other peoples stories); eventually it became serialized, with the reoccurring stock characters becoming actual characters, forming relationships, going through character arcs. some characters have gotten divorced/married, miscarried, or had successful pregnancies... overall she still has amassed a fairly large following. theres a lot of effort put into it, she acts very well and is believable as different people, and the stories and skits are engaging if you like drama, so there is plenty to like. she uploads both dramatic, story-relevant videos & the regular old comedic skit videos.

[ this is a link to a tiktok that features charlotte in all her character costumes edited to the song NurseryVerse, the song that sparked the discussion ]

some people started dipping out particularly after the relationship aspect because they thought it was weird that her mostly light and fluffy content started getting a bit raunchy (fair criticism, i found it a little weird but the content isnt even as explicit as abbott elementary, especially since she is the Only Actor in it), but some people are really into the relationship drama of it all, which is honestly what most of it is. people make edits of the characters and ask for more couple videos and have entire pages dedicated to these ships. in particular, the main ships are Winter/Autumn (Wintumn), Marjorie/Reece (Marjoreece), Charlotte/Mia (Mialotte), and more recently the failed relationship of Siobhan/Vivian (Vivihan).

the story developing is controversial but more than anything, the relationships are very divisive! one episode included mention that two characters (winter and autumn) had sex in the baby room... while it WAS late at night, after hours and not acted out at all, i can absolutely see why people think thats very weird!

apparently there are ship tshirts. this may be a step too far... i think its weird for other real-life media but when its just the same woman in a different costume its a little humorous.... lmfao

i actually thoroughly enjoy this series since i enjoy hearing service workers complain about their shitty customers and similar styles of videos (like hair stylists, makeup artists, bakers, sallys/sephora workers). i honestly like drama as well, though i could take it or leave it.

someone once compared it to sanders' sides and im... hurt but accepting, it is a high-effort scripted video series with a single actor playing many characters, so... fair enough!

though apparently the more apt comparison is the Bistro Huddy, a similar story played by a single guy but set in a bistro.

i do think it goes without saying that part of the reason people may prefer bistro over nursery is because of misogyny. a woman doing the exact same thing is more cringe than a man. i dont watch the bistro, so i cant say if his is more or less cringe, but i personally did not enjoy watching his videos, so there's that.

well, whatever media management company she seems to be working for (or with) released the most dogshit song for an anti-bullying charity called "NurseryVerse" with some unknown male singer. its supposed to be fun and uplifting and vaguely introduce you to the series but god. the singing and mixing itself isnt very good but the lyrics are abysmal.

the song got popular (infamous, really, because again, its actually very cheesy) and the wider tiktok community has tapped into the nursery-verse. people do not understand it. they dont get the history behind the series, which is fair, its like entering a show 3 seasons in and expecting to understand the plot.

some of the hate comments are very funny lmfao

she did eventually make a response to the hate in a 10 and a half minute video, though weirdly it is entirely in character (as Marjorie, Autumn, and Mia)... however its not unusual, since she rarely if ever posts videos out of character.

for the hate against the song, she says to let the people who enjoy it enjoy it & for people who dislike it to stop wasting time being an asshole. she tells the people who are being harassed to block anyone bothering them, since apparently that was happening

regarding the sexuality of the storyline, particularly the bit about Wintumn having sex in the nursery after-hours. she says that 1) theyre fake 2) it was not explicit and 3) previously established shows and movies for children have had raunchier and more explicitly sexual content

apparently people are also annoyed that there are a LOT of lesbian storylines (Mialotte, Vivihan, and the unmentioned pre-established relationship between Sorcha and her wife). she essentially says to get over it

she addresses those who miss the one-off skits: she never stopped doing the skits, there is just story between them. i'll add that, when she uploads it tends to be about 3 videos at a time and at least one of those will be a skit! though even some of the skit videos are becoming a bit serialized with reoccurring parent characters...

she adds that those who have "gone viral" for the hate against the song/series are just riding [her] coattails and have no original ideas, or at least have to come up with it.

she teases about the event in October possibly sparking a hate train; i imagine this is because October has a storyline about the (ADULT) characters having a halloween ball. some have made implications that their costumes will be revealing, so perhaps thats what its about?

she says that the money she gets from tiktok is how she makes her money and that the views, whether hatewatching or the genuine, is helping her renovate her home either way.

the comments are mixed it seems, but the negative or critical ones are at the top.

i missed the specific comment but apparently she said something about "bed rotting" and the people aren't liking it:

there are still supportive comments, though!

all in all, after that, the buzz has somewhat died down. that's about it, she's back to her regular posting and the comments on her other posts are as they typically are.

i suppose we will see what happens in october.

[zahri-melitor]

Recent Reads

The Night Eaters Book 1: She Eats The Night: this is the first volume of a graphic novel series by the team behind Monstress, Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda. It’s gorgeous and the team really shows off. I don’t think the art is quite as ornate as Monstress in places, but it’s got the same aesthetic and intense detailed art, and very much the same visual beats in places (vines encasing things!)

This is a horror series revolving around a family and the creepy unsellable house across the street, swathed in vines. It’s a story about immigration and the secrets families keep: told across time in Hong Kong, Hawaii and New York. The present day scenes in New York are very set in late 2020-mid 2021, which tracks for a graphic novel published in 2022. I love how the twins, Billy and Milly, who you would usually assume are the creepy aspect of the story, are in fact the pair trying to figure out what is going on, while also trying to hold their lives and their restaurant together, while their parents are very, very mysterious to them.

Absolutely recommend this, and if you’re American it might be a great AAPI month read. I’m planning to read the sequels.

Wynd, by James Tynion IV (Wynd #1-10, Wynd: The Throne in the Sky #1-5, Wynd: the Power of the Blood #1): and I’m back on my James Tynion bullshit. This is another entry in the Tynion’s teen graphic novels canon, rather than his adult work, and it’s probably my favourite so far of that set. It’s a highly detailed fantasy world and a quest to grapple with identity. It takes a classic hero’s journey set up and does it very well, with the young adults the focus of the story all being queer in different ways and having simultaneous identity issues around their queerness but also around allegories of queerness and identity (and fantasy racism) in their world. It’s very much my speed in terms of plot, and I would not hesitate to hand this to a teen who enjoys fantasy stories. I particularly enjoy that we get the queer allegories accompanied by actual textual queerness, because it layers things with deeper meaning and consideration.

Michael Dialynas’s art is gorgeous, bright and excellent at developing very distinct characters with nifty little referential moments. (Designing the hair of the character who runs a combined café and bar as the swirl of crema in coffee is one that particularly stands out to me)

I do have a handful of problems with the series, and the main one I want to bring up is that while I understand the urge to remove adults from a YA title for teens, it’s really noticeable that Tynion has specifically killed off two of the three mothers in the series (and the third is in the process of betraying her son at the point I’m up to), while all the fathers/male parental figures are alive and coming to try and help out the kids, even as the starting premise of the entire series hinges on the King of Pipetown being in the process of dying and how his son does not want to be bound by his dying wishes. It’s just…Tynion does have an issue where he often overlooks having enough female characters in his writing, and in using them as essentially set dressing, in preference to centring the gay boys he wants to write about as the central relationships, and it’s just really, really on show here. It’s not immediately obvious if you picked this title up on its own, but if you’re aware of the tendency, it really is hard to overlook.

[awkwardiplodocus]

Memories of Edward. (Sneak peek)

This isn’t particularly well written, but here you go! The main characters -

Edward Beckett (Pale af, English boi)

Joseph Miller (American Boi)

March 25th 1944

Joseph sits in the wooden booth, a pint sat in front of him. The pub is relatively quiet tonight. No gentle piano music playing which he solely misses.

Where’s Edward?

A gentle sigh falls from his lips, bowing his head not noticing as a woman slides next to him. Not until she speaks.

“Wondering where Edward is?” The voice startles him.

“Marjorie?” He splutters out.

She hums softly staring at him with a knowing expression, it’s like she see’s through him. Knows something he doesn’t even know about himself. “That’s me.”

“Was Edward sent ba-“

“Back to war?” She shakes her head, “no, no. He’s here actually.’

Joseph glances around, excitedly trying to spot Edward’s frame in the empty pub, only to twist in confusion when he can’t spot him. “Where?”

Marjorie chuckles, “Oh no no, not in here joe.”

“What?”

“Just follow me.”

Marjorie slips off the seat, heading towards the bar calling something over to the barkeep. “Gareth, my dear. Me and My friend here would like the special.”

The barkeeps, Gareth looks over to Joseph skeptically. Unsure of whether or not to trust the well built American. “Are you sure ms beckett?” He askes quieter out of Joseph’s ear shot. She nods gently, “I’m positive.” She glances back to him. “Come on you.”

“Where?”

“Just follow.” She chuckles.

He does, confused as they head behind through a concealed door, descending down the stairs that follow. Marjorie speeding ahead, clearly excited.

“Wait.” He called to death ears as she disappears through another door.

Joseph stops, looking through the door. His mouth fallen slightly agap, the room is full of young men and woman. The familiar sound of a gentle piano in the background, Edward is playing. A peaceful expression adorned his face as he watches men dance with other men. Others might call it contempt, yet even from afar Joseph can see the hidden longing behind his dark eyes.

Marjorie grins, “Well?”

Joseph hates having to drag his eyes away from Edward. But he cannot ignore the woman who brought him to this safe haven. “How did you?”

She smiles, her arm slipping around his, linking them together as she begins leading them through the room. “We people have to stick together.” Marjorie offers as her only explanation sending a coy wink in his direction. He doesn’t know how to respond, an overwhelmed feeling washing over him. Marjories gloved hand rubs his arm in a calming manner, giving a reassuring squeeze.

“Edward.” Her soft voice calls.

Edward’s eyes glance towards them, widening slightly as they land on Joseph, tripping him up, stunting the beautiful tune he was playing. Though, he recovers quickly and ends the song shorter than expected.

“Joseph?” Edward stands, unsure of what else to say. As Marjorie pushes the handsome American soldier in his direction. “Edward…” the name leaves his lips in nothing more than a whisper as he holds out a hand, “dance with me.”

Edward doesn’t utter a word his hand sliding into Joseph’s, their fingers intertwining. Slotting together in away that tells the one another that this is exactly what the other was missing. Heading to the dance floor as Marjorie slides onto the little bench, ready to take over on piano duty to play her favourite tune.

Joseph pulls Edward close, his hand resting on the small of his back. The corner of his lips turning up, as they fall easily into step with each other. Neither fighting to take lead as they move around the floor, body’s flowing together in perfect harmony as Marjorie begins to sing.

Edward who’s never been the strongest dancer is shocked at just how simple it is with Joseph, unaware of how he’s able to dance in such a way. With others he could never find a flow, constantly tripping over his own two feet falling into the other man or occasional woman he danced with. But with him it’s so easy. Edward stares, taking in every detail of the mans face with each moment that passes, falling a little more in love with every second.

Joseph, despite being younger than Edward by 4 months, appears older, with kind eyes that are dark like his own and gentle creases coming off the corners as he stares at him with such a tender expression, smile lines present on his forehead and the bump on Joseph’s nose is hard not to love, so up close.

Neither of them speak a word, the truth is they don’t need to. Enough was said with ease of the dance. Following each other’s steps without hesitation or quarrel. Getting lost in the music taking no notice of how much time has truly passed. Edward even resting his head on Joseph’s shoulder at one point, showing his comfort with him in a way Marjorie nor Patrick, for that matter had ever seen before.

Patrick had been sat in the corner since the start of the evening, he did this on occasion always wanting to see his grandchildren for who they really are, hating how they had to hide themselves in everyday society. It was the reason he built this place in the first place. Having no other truly safe space for them. They flourished. Marjorie had always been the flirtatious type, though her true feeling were often masked. Here, she could respectfully and safely flirt with whichever woman she liked.

Edward for the majority of the time played his music, the raw forms of songs he could not sing to general public without changing the pronouns or subject entirely. Patrick always enjoyed them no matter the topic or whomever the subject. The piano melody always complemented the lyrics in such a fashion nobody honestly seemed to fully understand. Only Edward. He enjoyed watching people dance to them it brought him joy, he’d confessed that much to Patrick on a quiet day when prompted.

Though, Patrick always feared a deeper reasoning to Edward’s reluctance to join in on the festivities. A broken heart often crossed his mind, unrequited love. The possibility of him falling in love with a man who might even throw several punch’s in his direction, if he ever found out the truth is all Patrick feared for his grandson. So seeing him dance so freely with Joseph is like a breath of fresh air to the older gentleman, a smile gracing his expression as he observes.

[m0rtems]

( AISHA DEE . female . she/her ) — blasting YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN KID by taylor swift down main street we’ve spotted MAE HOLLINGSWORTH sporting their long lavender gloves. the TWENTY-EIGHT year old WITCH who’s been in town for six months often can be seen walking the trails, stargazing in the observatory, spending evenings in the old haunt, or working as an EMPLOYEE at MADAM DUALA'S APOTHECARY. people say they display witty and standoffish traits, but we rather trust their vibes: plants scattered across a small kitchen, photos tucked out of sight, 2 am walks in the forest. also, we’ve heard they love HERBOLOGY ! aren’t they fascinating ? ⸺ written by CASSIDY ( 27 . she/her . est . )

BASICS.

full name: marjorie "mae" hollingsworth age: 28 place of birth: seattle, washington pronouns: she/her. orientation: bisexual. family: naomi hollingsworth, mother; whereabouts unknown. unknown father. zachariah hollingsworth, older brother; no current communication.

below is a condensed version of mae's backstory! mae is a character i'm reusing from about seven years ago, so this is kinda under construction as we go.

mae was the result of a drunken one-night stand. she has never known her father nor had any real desire to track him down, though she did go through a curious phase as a preteen. what she did have were her mother and her half-brother, seven years older than mae. her brother was always good to her, and despite the age difference between them, was her dearest companion throughout childhood.

their mother, due to addiction, was unable to hold down a job and tended not to spend the little money they had on food for her children. while naomi never explicitly said as much, it was apparent to mae from a very young age that both she and her brother were unwanted. zachariah, even young as he was, was mae's primary caretaker.

as she grew into a preteen, mae came to understand that her brother had likely been working under the table or more likely, stealing, in order to provide for her. by now, he was a teenager and had a real job along with work on the side, and he was so tired all the time, which she now understood was due to his efforts to provide for a growing girl on his own. she often heard he and an naomi arguing over money and over his struggle to do it alone.

at fifteen, her powers made themselves known in a tragic way. she got into a fight after school one afternoon, and experienced what felt like a pulse of electricity throughout her body, ending at her hands. the classmate died instantly, and mae had never thrown a punch. she ran. the death was ruled an aneurysm.

after this, strange things began to happen around her. a plant died at her fingertips. she was terrified to touch her brother or friends, constantly jittery and on edge. when she was upset, an overhead light fixture shattered. in the end, petrified of hurting her brother, mae decided to remove herself from the equation. she ran.

from then on she lived on the streets, stealing and taking odd little jobs to survive. around eighteen, she found a job at a tiny metaphysical shop, and the owners allowed her to stay in the back room. from there she was able to slowly, slowly scrape enough together to begin building a life for herself, but she has maintained a nomadic lifestyle over the last decade -- until now. she may not stay forever, but for now, she is happy in portum.

personality / other stuff

she wears gloves at all times. she has not touched anyone with bare hands since her classmate's death, and not having the gloves causes her paralyzing anxiety. she has never been able to face her fear in order to try and master that aspect of her powers, though she knows deep down now that she could learn to control it and has learned a lot more about her other abilities. she doesn't even work with plants without the gloves.

she's on the standoffish side and has a temper. she's pretty distrustful of others and quick to engage in verbal aggression if someone else starts it or she feels threatened, because she does have a hairpin trigger style temper. initially this all started as a fear of getting close to anyone / killing them re her powers, but has also evolved into this distrust / unwillingness to let in. she's had less than great experiences with most people before coming to portum.

that said she's not that bad! she also will make herbal concoctions / spell jars / spells in general when asked and has a sort of "side business" doing that but not really because she doesn't accept payment more often than not and just does it to help. she LOVES working with plant magic. also loves stargazing and walking the forest at night when it's just her and the nocturnal townsfolk.

when she does befriend someone she is fiercely loyal and can even be sweet. she's never told anyone what happened to that classmate or the plants that died at her fingertips.

would love some pre-established connections or for someone to make her brother! friends, acquaintances, people that get their spells from her, even a potential romantic connection! i'm super down for anything.

[styxbugg]

Have some basic ideas and concepts for my fraggle rock human au, cause I’ve thought a lot about it (i like it :) ) but have yet to write anything down

UNDER THE CUT CAUSE THERE’S A LOT OF STUFF!!!!!!

FIRST OF ALL it’s a college au, cause ive always imagined them to be about that kind of age. They’re all either freshman or sophomores— they’re in the same grade, just either one would work. They’re room assignments are also the same as in the show, with boober having scored a single

As for majors/minors/activies/character roles:

Gobo: majors in anthropology, and minors in music. Wouldn’t be apart of any official band programs, but would be that one guy who carries his guitar everywhere

Red: majors in creative writing and/or media studies. She’s on the hockey team, the swimming team, and does track (at least). Maybe she does percussion for one of the school bands

Mokey: double majors in creative writing and art. Very involved in all the theater companies on campus, and will eventually write a play for one of them to perform. Will hold impromptu jazz jam sessions

Wembley: undecided. His current strategy is to take classes in as many different majors as possible (it’s not really working out). Is in the pit for the marching band

Boober: majors in hospitality and culinary (maybe one of those is a minor?) He helps out with theater sometimes and would definitely get an on campus job in one of the dining halls

Cotterpin: majors in architecture and engineering, minors in art, and would later get a masters in buisness management. Shes also in the marching band pit. She is overworking herself

Wrench: majors in engineering. Im honestly not sure what else hed do :(

Marjory: that one old history professor that everyone loves. Philo and gunge are her teaching assistants

Architect: runs the architecture and engineering programs

Uncle matt: an alum of the school who got somewhat famous and now regularly donates to it. There’s a lot of wings and benches named after him

Other stuff:

Mokey is the only one from the main five that cotterpins not friends with, even though shes the only one cotterpin has classes with. They just never talk

Gobo regularly forces his friends on hikes around campus

Marooned happens when red is trying to distract boober from his surprise party and shoves him in a storage closet. They both get locked in there over night. Boober effectively freaks her out by telling her how easy itd be for them to starve to death in there (they’re fine tho)

That’s most of what i got :) suggestions for doc or the gorgs would be appreciated, ive got very few ideas

[marjorie-ann-miller-1949]

Hello. I'm Marjorie. I guess. Joined this "rotumblr" website because my book club thought they were going to "Promote themselves on social media" or whatever it's called. Whatever. I'm here now. Might as well introduce myself, right? That's what you weirdos do here?

Marjorie. Already said that. That's me. Live in Sinnoh. I train Grass and Bug types. Hobbies include reading, gardening, and occasional painting. Was a gym Challenger back in my prime. Still up for a batttle if you come by. Though I'd rather you didn't. Come by, I mean.

Here's my Trainer Card. it is here twice. Unsure why it is there twice.

Terry the Tangrowth was my first partner. This asshole's been around almost as long as I have. Love him.

Carla is my Yanmega. Too kind, too empathetic, and too loyal. Pet her ONE TIME and she'll never leave your side.

Martha is my Vileplume. She keeps people away from my house - Would YOU go up to the house of the mean old lady with the sneezy old plant? She's a sweet girl though. More patient than I could ever be.

Antonia is my Scolipede. Incredibly full of herself. Do NOT compliment her. She won't leave you alone. Kind, strong, powerful, dignified, and eternally humble. (I am being sarccastic. she is the least humble Pokémon I know.)

Dorcas is my Cradily. She's like an old Liepard - a little persnickety, a little mischievous, but eternally loyal.

Sadie is my Ariados. She's an old-timer too. Retired at this point, doesn't battle. Still as feisty as ever - challenge her and you WILL be webbed to the wall. Don't expect me to help, either. Your fault for getting stuck.

I have a service Espeon, since I'm not exactly the best at getting around. Opens doors, grabs things for me, finds help if I fall. SO much energy. Seriously. Love him, even if he's eternally annoying. Doesn't really have a name, I just call him "You."

//ooc under the cut!

hello! this is doof! i run @pokemoncenterofficial and @curses-and-curiosities, and you can find me outside pokeirl at my very-neglected main @doofisconfused. thought it might be fun to make an older character! i had a lot of fun makin marjorie, and i hope you all like her, too! marjorie is 74, but she'd never admit it. she lives in eterna city, but she refuses to give out any more info on her location than "sinnoh."

marjorie's supposed to be kind of a mean character, but if i'm overstepping it please let me know! magic anons are OFF for her but will be for theo (@pokemoncenterofficial)!

[larena]

Genuinely was not expecting going in that Guild Wars 2 would be as focused on queer characters as it is. I wouldn't go so far as to call it a "queer game" - I don't think the narrative is intensely or really visibly focused on queer themes from what I've played midway through Heart of Thorns.

But like, Caithe and Faolain are there as major background figures from the jump, you see a few other queer relationships here and there as minor NPCs. Then Living World introduces Marjory and Kasmeer and the two of them and their relationship have remained a pretty important component of the main cast dynamics so far.

It's just neat, it still feels so rare to play a big mainstream game like this where heteronormative relationships aren't the default. To the point where I'm like... maybe put a couple straights in here for variety, idk

[bewitchingbloom]

April reads! I got through quite a bit this month (largely because I primarily listen to audiobooks and three of these clocked in at less than ten hours.) It was also a month that really ran the gamut on quality too lol

Ratings and brief thoughts below the cut.

The Gilded Crown - 4.5/5 - Probably my favorite read of the month. It was actually the perfect combination of what I wanted from two of my most disappointing reads from last year (Belladonna and The Bear and the Nightingale), with a fun toxic yuri plotline to boot. I loved it so much that I immediately put the sequel on hold at the library when normally I would hold off on doing that for a while, so yeah...I loved it. I do think its cover does it no favors, though.

Not a Happy Family - 1.25/5 - My book club's pick of the month and...ugh, if it hadn't been for that, I would've DNF'd. Actually, I probably would've never picked this up at all if it weren't for that. Choppy writing and questionable character descriptions, as well as a predictable murder mystery. There are ways to make "everyone's lying and no one's likeable" fun, but this wasn't it.

I am Made of Death - 3.75/5 - I loved the first third of this book, it was tense and Andrew did a great job of making the characters compelling. I thought I knew where it was going and was super excited, only for it to pivot in the second half and become an unofficial sequel to Andrew's previous books, which I haven't read and honestly probably needed context for to understand the significance of what was happening. Still, it was well-written, I enjoyed Vivienne and Thomas as the main characters, and it was an interesting enough premise that I'd rather pick up her earlier novels than write her off completely.

Never Whistle at Night - 4/5 - Like every anthology I've ever read, there were high and low points with a bunch of mid stories in-between. That said, I think the writing of the stories overall was top-notch, there were only two stories I flat out didn't like, and many that I really did. My favorite story in the anthology was Collections, which was also the penultimate in the book. It had me in a chokehold for the entirety of it, leaving me unsettled in a way I definitely appreciate in horror stories.

In the Dream House - No rating (memoir) - Brilliantly written memoir about an abusive relationship. Machado's prose flowed so beautifully, and the narration painted a unique picture that found my heart breaking alongside hers in the patchwork dreamscape of her memories. Mind the content warnings, but definitely worth a read if you don't mind second-person POV.

Tread of Angels - 3/5 - This novella was written by Rebecca Roanhorse, who wrote one of the short stories I really enjoyed in Never Whistle at Night. The premise was interesting, but ultimately I think the short length did it a disservice. There was a lot of good lore, as well a great theme, that could've been served well if it had been told in full-fledged novel. As it was, the story was too short for me to get emotionally invested in the world or characters, so it was pretty much just a quick, fun read and nothing more. I am looking forward to reading Black Sun eventually, still.

Monstress Vol. 3 & 4 - both 4.75/5 - I continue to absolutely love Maika Halfwolf, and her story is one I'm quickly becoming so invested in. I love the world Marjorie Liu imagines and Sana Takada brings to life with her art; even though it's an incredibly dark story, it's also so lush and gorgeous that I can't help but love it.