#and the answer is because his whole identity was intrinsic to him from the start while Brian's is a collage of “inspiration”/“theft”

[mangle-my-mind]

Todd Haynes on Jack Fairy

OM: While the story focuses on Brian and Curt, and subsequently Arthur, you chose to start and end the film with Jack Fairy. He's the patron saint of the whole shebang, but he's not a true component of the narrative. How does he function in the movie?

TH: In a strange way, Fairy is meant to be the Little Richard of glam rock. He didn't form himself like the human Xerox machine by frantically calling from everything around him and assembling himself in a self-conscious way. He represents a kind of instinctive need to camp it up, something that came to him as a young child. In the film, this instinct is represented by the enigmatic force of a pin that seems to circulate through British culture generationally. Little Richard, against all the odds of the period he grew up in - the conservatism and segregation around him - erupted spontaneously as a shrill spectacle that you could not ignore. Of course he spun right into the mainstream of society, and forced the mainstream to adapt to his new excesses. Jack Fairy remains the kind of lost originator of the whole glam thing. I think he's there to contrast the consumerist drive to be famous, which often is more effective with the very driven, self-conscious stealer of ideas than it is with the organic originator of the same ideas. He doesn't get the same kind of attention as Brian, but he becomes a source of inspiration. He's the 'real' thing, which, of course, isn't real.

Source - "Superstardust: Talking Glam with Todd Haynes" by Oren Moverman

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s5 episode 2 thoughts

i wrote the following episode writeup two days ago, and still, there is so much to process. but let past me take over as we begin our adventure into some DELICIOUS angst with a happy ending content:

i wasn’t going to watch this episode tonight because i am feeling tired and sick, but then i scrolled down a little bit and read some of the next episode’s descriptions, and boy. i want answers. which i will not receive if i do not watch the episodes prior to them. so. here we are.

i’ve also heard that this episode is really good, so i’m excited to dive in, even if i have a headache while watching it. usually i try to preserve my watching experiences for when i don’t feel ill, but sometimes you just have to push through it.

(it WAS really really REAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLY GOOD. my sickness was not fixed but some other part of me was)

okay. the description... mulder is looking for a cure and the FBI snitch. and he receives help from an unlikely source…. is it krycek??? let us see

(it was not krycek)

we begin with the recap, and again, the combination of skinner’s gruff “call a doctor” while holding scully's limp body and mulder’s defeated face at hearing the vial just has water in it is crazy 

mulder is at the hospital at 5 am!!! he’s looking for scully :( no one is helping him!! he is getting maaaaad omg

“i’ll calm down when i have a REASON TO CALM DOWN!!”<- OHHHH he is always going to cause a scene in a hospital. someone please pair up this scene with one breath to make a nice matching gifset thank you <3

the doctor wants to know who tf he is when skinner comes out of the room!!! OH FUCK, I FORGOT SKINNER THOUGHT HE WAS DEAD LMAOOOO “you move pretty good for a dead man” <- well yes he does! 

“i’m only half dead” now what do you mean by that… is he saying that without scully he is only half alive.......

oh skinner is PISSED! he is following him into scully’s room… please save the fighting for when she is not trying to get rest, thank you very much

oh my GOD, mulder sees her in the room and he literally has to put his hands on his knees and breath, and he cannot do it… holy fuck… he asks skinner what happened, and when he doesn’t answer right away he asks “DUE TO WHAT?” again, and skinner has to say she’s dying

(i immediately hit replay to watch him collapsing in on himself and gasping for air again. pain. pain and angst. feels good. like pressing into a bruise)

SKINNER AND MULDER START FIGHTING???? throwing hands. “don’t make me put you under arrest. DON’T” <- this is escalating. very quickly. we haven’t even had the intro yet. holy fuck.

(my skinner and mulder angst heart is deeply satisfied)

oh my god… how he’s watching her through the window……………..

the intro was cut short, but i expected this 

ohhhh no, mulder is here before section chief blevins… he’s in troooOOooOouble!!!

“the fact of you being here alive, it gives the effect of shaping this investigation into something altogether different” <- well yeah. that is very much the case. let's all state the obvious together.

blevins and the squad seem to be surprisingly patient with him as they explain they need to know who the real dead guy found in his apartment was. they say, well, you know, this is going to be a murder charge. so please say something to help yourself out here. and he says idgaf bye <- LEGENDARY!!!

ohhh skinner is following him out… skinner says he has been withholding evidence. he knows mulder shot the guy, killed him, then shot him again to hide his identity!!!! woahhhh!!! this is huge!!!!

skinner tells him to admit why scully lied on his behalf, and he says that her disease was given to her by someone at the FBI. he takes a moment to process that, then asks who, and there is a whole lotta guilt in mulder’s reply: “i failed to find that out, sir” <- NOOOOOOO i’m sad :(

oh mulder, and your intrinsic, ancient guilt.......

“you don’t want to forget who your friends are, agent mulder- to remember who you can trust” <- oh my god oh my gooooood. you KNOW i am a SUCKER for the whole mulder/scully and skinner dynamic, and he knows that skinner made the deal with the devil for him but scully doesn’t know that and she doesn’t trust skinner and oh my goooosh

mulder nods, while skinner watches him leave. i hope he has taken this talk to heart.

section chief blevins is at the racetrack again with CSM?? and he’s watching senator kennedy speak about human cloning. which seems random. how is he even watching that while at the racetrack? they didn't have ipads

CSM points out he said mulder’s not to be underestimated <- haha yeah THAT’S my boy!! 

ohhhh, but blevins knows CSM let him escape…. and CSM isn’t alarmed by this! he’s all smirky, even as blevins says their FBI man has been exposed.

“mulder’s in trouble. he needs help. we can give it to him” “in exchange for?” “his new loyalty. to us” <- WOAHHHH

some dude was behind blevins the whole time and he says “you can proceed now” so is he off to go get mulder???!?!?!

scully is waking up!! OHHHH look at his smile when he sees her…. oh somebody kill me. he loves her SO much

(author's note: tearing up just thinking about this as i make these notes readable. goddddddddd)

she’s so worried that someone is going to see him, but OH MY GOD he grabs her hand, sits on the bed, tells her it’s okay, and kisses her cheek “i’m officially among the undead” <- WAAAAAAAAAH I LOVE HIM

(and while in the moment this only inspired the deepest of affection, i now find myself thinking of a vampire au, and who would be the vampire... but let's get back on track)

she asks what happened, and he says he didn’t come there to talk about that <- YEAH THAT IS WHAT I WANTED TO HEAR!!! you tell her not to worry sweet girl

but she won’t take it, says he doesn’t need to protect her!!! and that is just like her, to die arguing. so he fesses up that he will have to testify everything that he knows 

he does NOT want her to worry oh my god “it doesn’t matter” “yes it does” (gently) “hey scully, how about those yankees?”<- OHHHH MY GOD i cannot stop saying oh my god, but what even is there else to say?

i just. he loves her so much. he wants her to relax and be calm and be okay even when she would never let that happen in a million years. and the fact that she is worried about HIM while she is literally dying… bro. i’m emo.

scully is trying to warn him that skinner is the mole, and he’s touching her face, saying no, it’s not him, and oh, i’m melting. my heart is melting. 

WOAH WHAT??? she is saying to tell the committe he has to testify before that SHE KILLED THAT GUY??? to keep him safe???

he smiles and shakes his head, saying he can’t do that, but she responds with “mulder, if i can save you, let me” oh my god???

“let me give at least some meaning to what’s happened to me” <- OH MY GOD??????? no no no no no no no. 

(the implications here... trying to find meaning... nobility in sacrifice... the religious imagery it inspires....... we need to unpack this at length someday)

OH enter maggie and bill scully, watching as mulder sits on her bed holding her hand, smiling like the dutiful son-in-law he appears to be, which is especially crazy, when you consider the whole “and where has this mulder guy been” thing bill had going on when we last saw him. but mulder says he was just on his way out. 

AND he kisses her hands as he leaves… the tenderness which i feel towards this man is so sensitive and indescribable

and oh my god, mulder introduces himself to bill. he says he’s sorry about his sister… but bill has something else to say- WHAT IS IT??

“mr. mulder… i know something about you, about what dana’s been through with you, so… let’s leave the work away from here, okay? let her die with dignity” <- OH MY GOD????? WHAT THE FUCK???????

bill you literally SUCK what the HELL?? you don’t know ANYTHING about what they have been through!!! 

he looks like he was just slapped :( and bill goes in and holds her hand while mulder is there just standing opened mouthed, unable to believe what he just heard :(

what the fuck.

bill count ur days.

so now the guy from the racetrack that was with blevins seems to be on the loose with a sniper gun!!

ohhhh, mulder is leaving the hospital when he sees CSM!!!! “please tell me you’re here with severe chest pains” <- JHDJSJDJ okay yes i laughed.

OHHHH he says that the water he got in the facility is essential to scully’s survival???? and that he’s here tonight as a friend?? so they go outside to talk about it… but the sniper, isn’t he loose????

cutscene to the lone gunmen’s headquarters, where mulder is emptying the water vial into a little dish, saying CSM promised him something would be in there. and there is some… thing?? a microchip??

OH! he says that maybe it has to do with when the chip was removed from her neck!! because she got very sick shortly after it was removed!!! woah... that is wild to think about. so maybe if it had stayed in there this wouldn't have happened??? but she would have kept getting abducted because they would have known her location? but earlier someone said it was the procedure that takes their eggs that makes them sick. but how does that involve the alien? who knows. probably not chris carter.

kritschgau is here now; he’s been summoned before the committee

he confesses to giving classified information because he knows what the government is hiding from the people!!!! developing a moral compass late in life

but he denies knowing who killed the guy found dead in mulder's apartment, whose name is scott…

“i’m aware of one connected death, though” <- is he going to say scully???

NO!!! his son, who died that morning!!!!! oh no :( i feel bad now 

he says that part of his work comes from a congressional lobbying firm?? called “roush”. blevins and some other guy exchange looks but skinner asks what it means. and kritschgau says idk. well. me neither 

back in scully’s room, mulder is being yelled at by bill as he tries to explain the microchip from the tube might make her better. maggie seems to want bill to settle down, while scully is staring hard at it.

she says that everyone has their heart in the right place, but it needs to be her call… oh, so diplomatic… and she decides to try it

bill looks like he wants to kill mulder, and mulder tries to dodge his eye contact. it was very emotionally charged.... but also a little bit funny 

so now the sniper guy is back. he’s setting up the rifle, but where???? and to shoot which of our characters???

bill comes out of the hospital room and mulder is working overtime to try and avoid his gaze until he realizes it is impossible.

“see, she’s your big defender, but i think the truth is, she just doesn’t want to disappoint you” <- bro WHAT?? how fucking infantilizing can you be??? just because she’s your little sister doesn’t mean she can’t make her own informed decisions about living and dying??

bill, we are GOING to throw hands at some point 

OHHHHHHHH bill blames MULDER for all of this AND for missy’s death……… again…. not very fair…. scully made her own decisions… but if i were bill, i might feel the same if it were my family….

ohhh my god this whole exchange needs to be on my blog:

“has it been worth it? to you, i mean, have you found what you’ve been looking for?”

(mulder pauses, before answering in a whisper) “no”

“you know how that makes me feel?”

“in a way, i think i do. i lost someone very close to me- i lost a sister, i lost my father- all because of this thing i’m looking for”

“this what? little green aliens?”

(mulder looks down, before smiling) “yeah. little green aliens”

“you’re one sorry son of a bitch. not a whole lot more to say”

holy FUCK

1. i love a man who loves so unabashedly and so unapologetically. i love a man with his heart on his sleeve, and i love mulder for this reason, even if he is terribly stubborn and often infuriating. look at him. look how dedicated to the truth he is. look at how much he loves her.

and 2. for their own sake, i hope they elope when they get married, but for the sake of pissing bill off, i hope they get married in a traditional fashion, and he has to sit there and watch and regret everything he said when this inevitably saves her life and they get to grow very old and happy together because of his quest for aliens. and then they say their vows and kiss and bill writhes in the knowledge that he is a mean person. that is all. for now. because i will probably have more to say later.

fuck you bill. all my friends hate bill. 

mulder's phone rings… he answers it, saying “one sorry son of a bitch speaking” and it’s CSM??? asking how’s our patient? well. i guess he can take some credit here for the potential recovery, but “our” feels strong.

he says he’s arranged a meeting he will want to attend??? hmm. hmmmmm. hmmmmm. much to ponder here. mulder do NOT make any deals, CSM is a NASTY FUGLY SLUT!!

so mulder’s sitting in a diner, sipping coffee, when someone pulls into the parking lot??? it’s CSM himself. 

WITH THE CLONE SAMANTHA FROM BEFORE???

“you know 'em or something?” “i think that’s my sister”, he says to the waitress <- WHAT??

obviously though, he realizes it’s the fake samantha, right? like this trick won’t work on him twice... right?

she looks at CSM and says “my father” <- HUH??

nah, i do not believe it’s her at all. she says she was frightened, and she tried to forget everything from that night. she was told she was going to see her father. and CSM said basically that she was an affair baby and he's the bio dad. and he took her in and was so kind.

nah. i’m not buying it at all….

but mulder is crying……….. he’s had a rough go of it though these past few days, okay?!?!?! so don't be mean to him for believing what HAS to be an obvious lie

he tries to explain that CSM is probably lying to her about many, many things, because he has obviously known mulder’s whereabouts for a very long time, and has never told her

he says that she should come see their mom… but she says she can’t do it, she needs time, she has children of their own, and she won’t tell him where to find her. I DON’T BUY IT i’m glad she left before her mom could see her, because she doesn’t deserve that heartbreak AGAIN.

he assures her they will reunite on her time and he lets her go. even though he very much does not want to. which is a lot for his character. how he lets go of the iron grip he had on her arm...

i wonder if he doesn't believe it, deep down.

she says she’ll think about it, and she leaves, getting into the car with CSM. mulder is utterly gagged. 

hmm. HMMM. CSM is trying HARD to get him to pledge to the dark side. but will the same tricks work again???

meanwhile, scully is being injected with something. but she looks so sad as her doctor doesn’t seem hopeful. 

she asks if he’s ever seen a miracle, and he says he’s seen recovery from the brink, but he won’t dare call them that

sniper guy?????? has his rife aimed at CSM??? or mulder??? or both???? because they are standing next to each other

they’re meeting up. “you give me these things- the only things i’ve ever wanted- and i can’t think of any reason for you to do so” <- HE’S LYING ABOUT THE SAMANTHA STUFF, HE HAS TO BE. WE SAW A WHOLE CLONE ARMY OF PEOPLE WITH THAT FACE. IT CANNOT REALLY BE YOUR SAMANTHA, MULDER.

but he says he will offer him the truth, about the project. mulder says he knows the truth. CSM fires back that kritschgau was the one lying!!! 

“in exchange for what?” “quit the FBI, come work for me” <- WOAH he was shockingly forward there. i can kind of admire that. now please say no, mr. mulder. 

AND HE DOES SAY NO!!!!

“what have you given me? a claim of a cure for scully? is she cured?” (oh the way he said that was SO sassy, it felt like a read)

“you show me my sister, only to take her right back” <- again. DID he do that, though?

“you murdered my father. you killed scully’s sister, and if scully dies, i will kill you” TELL HIM BABY!!

“i don’t care whose father you are, i will put you down” OUGHHH GET HIM 

sniper guy puts his gun away when mulder leaves!!! so must be it’s mulder he’s after!!!

cut to scully cam… it’s her mom!! she called to see her and gives her a big hug.

“i fight, and i fight and i fight… but i’ve been so stupid” hey what do you mean. hey sweetheart what do you MEAN by that.

OH she is having a crisis of faith…. she feels guilty for being closed off to father mccue. ohhhh....... is the blaming herself for being too scared to turn to god??

she tells maggie she has no improvement, and they hug and they cry; “i know you’re afraid', maggie says, "i know you’re afraid to tell me, but you have to tell someone”

blevins is watching more press about human cloning. is that why they do these experiments with the women? for cloning purposes? is that what i am supposed to believe from this?

blevins calls someone, and sees skinner in the background of the hearings on cloning… now what is he doing there. blevins says their colleague was supposed to fix the FBI problem, and then he will fix it for good… is he talking about the sniper?????

back to scully’s room, where she is sleeping, and mulder is entering. he’s watching her sleep, then laying his head next to her and SOBBING. WHYYYYY???? OHHHHH....... he couldn't bear to wake her up. someone please hit me with a hammer.

then he is here at a meeting with blevins, who says something urgent has arrived. it’s the analysis that shows he fired the shot into the dead guy!!! from an undisclosed source!!! and unless he offers someone else up, all evidence points to him being the killer!!

is he bluffing??? did skinner sell him out?? no, that cannot be it...

blevins claims that scully was going to name skinner as the mole, and that they have found substantial evidence against him, which mulder refuses to believe. well… he is A mole, but not THE or THIS mole!!!

he’s basically saying name skinner and you walk free????? mulder doesn’t answer, just says he’ll see blevins at the hearing. verrrrry shady

he goes back to scully, who asks why he’s here, he has a hearing!! this has never stopped him in the past. and he confesses to having stopped by last night, but not having the heart to wake her up :( she’s asking why…

he says he was going to take the deal with CSM, but changed his mind after blevins tried to get him to implicate skinner!!!

(skinner being his grounding force to returning to his sense of morality... no no no it's fine i'm definitely super cool about that)

scully offers again to take the blame, but he refuses, saying he couldn’t do that to her family or live that lie (the truth motif)

“we all have our faith… and mine is in the truth” <- YESSSSS the comparison to religion in his dedication… everyone has been saying and observing it for the past 4 seasons, but now HE has!!! 

“then why’d you come here if you’d already made up your mind?” (laughing) “because i knew you’d talk me out of it if i was making a mistake” <- OHHHH to be known is to be loved…. <3

and father mccue walks in right then!! she says “you’ll be in my prayers” and he kisses her cheek, saying “have the father say a few hail mulders for me, okay?” <- LMAOOO AWWWWW BABY

she’s crying as father mccue walks in and mulder walks out…

and her honesty in telling him that she will pray for him, after running from her own belief for so long; it was as if she thought praying would be a declaration of weakness, and maybe it is, to submit yourself to something higher, to ask for a mercy you cannot earn... but she is going to, and not only for herself on the brink of death, but for her best friend who is going through his own turmoil..... oh scully........

now for the hearing. he's late! fashionably so!

they’re setting the stage- we know that man was killed with your weapon- and mulder says he wants to set the record straight.

skinner asks for a break??? but mulder says he’s ready to proceed….. oooo what are they each getting at…. skinner looks stressed af

he says he was assigned to work with scully, who he thinks was to spy on him…

“that agent scully did not follow these orders is a testament to her integrity as an investigator, a scientist, and a human being” <- YESSS 🔥that is my girl who is motivated by the eternal burden of doing the Morally Correct Thing :,)

he’s explaining that she lied about his death because he asked her to, because she was a victim of the grand conspiracy that is killing her (this is cut with footage of the sniper looking at CSM through the scope of his rifle, and scully praying with father mccue)

he’s saying he will name the people responsible for this tonight!!! but they just want to know if he shot scott!!!! it's getting more and more tense and loud, before we boil over to a yell:

“i can’t do that sir, because the section chief is the man i’m about to name!” (murmuring) <- OHHHHHHHHHH HE DROPPED A BOMBSHELL ON THE VILLA

(we enter slo mo) (sniper fires at CSM) (blevins is shot by some other guy, who puts the pistol in his dead hand) (CSM lays on the floor, bloody, holding the picture of baby mulder and samantha)

DID CSM JUST DIE????? i refuse to believe it. that bitch can’t be killed……. nope nope no way. unless i see his corpse (NOT his headstone or his funeral, his actual CORPSE) i shan’t buy it.

so much just happened????

the next morning, skinner is with mulder at the hospital. who, as if just hearing me, tells mulder that CSM is dead, shot holding the photo of him and samantha

NO BODY WAS FOUND??? but it was too much blood loss for anyone to have survived. so someone took the body?? OR someone brought extra blood to dump on the ground and fake a death!!! makes you think!!

mulder claims he just guessed it was blevins behind it all- do i believe it? or do you think it was his years of solving crimes that allowed him to pick up on it subconsciously? i'm going with that interpretation

and blevins had been on roush’s payroll for four years!!! a biotechnology company!!! for cloning??? for aliens?? and of course all connections are now being erased.

BUT NOT EVERYTHING…. SCULLY’S IN REMISSION!!! skinner is shocked and mulder says it’s the best news he’s ever heard 😭🥺 my BABY

when skinner asks what turned it around, he says he doesn’t know, and they’ll never know…

oh my god, i love that their beliefs combined to cure her… his obsession with the Truth and her literal coming to God, and which of them was actually responsible is entirely impossible to tell. oh i actually LOVE THAT SO FUCKING MUCH. RAHHHHHH THAT IS SO POETIC. their guiding forces in life, and we have no way of knowing which is responsible for her life being saved. but it happened.

and skinner wants to see her!!!! leaving mulder to hold the bloody photograph of his baby self… and he’s crying… it’s been a very long few days for him 

oh my god… i need some time to think on this all….

so, 2 days have passed since i watched this episode, and i still have SO many emotions. in no particular order, some things i am dwelling on: bill's cruelty to mulder; mulder smiling as he held scully's hand, trying to distract her; him unable to hold himself up as he sees her in the hospital room; skinner telling mulder to know who his friends are; skinner trying to pause the meeting before it even began so he could offer some sort of advice to mulder; scully crying into her mom's arms, surrendering to god; scully, who knows that mulder is not a believer, and has ridiculed her for being so in the past, telling him that she will pray for him; scully worrying about him when she is the one who is dying; scully reclaiming her agency when she decides that she wants to use the microchip; mulder saying that her remission is the best news he could ever have possibly heard; and skinner going in to see her while she was still surrounded by her family

WAAHHHHHHHHHH

so. a lot on my mind. a very, very, very good episode. i thought the blevins reveal kinda came out of nowhere since he has mostly been a set piece rather than a real character, but honestly, that wasn't the heart of the matter here, so we can disregard it.

i'm not sure how i feel about the potential samantha reintroduction. actually, i do know how i feel: i just didn't much care for it. frankly, i just don't buy it at all, and it felt like a lot to cram into one episode, especially since they've used the whole "is it really her?" plot point before. so it felt like a bit much on top of the already incredibly high emotional stakes.

but other than these thoughts, the episode was fantastic. finally, we get something happy! the potential end of scully's illness! mulder and skinner basking in her presence as she recovers!! her surrender to the omnipotent! his surrender to the truth, but not at the extent of his morals!!! everyone is so happy and the wedding is tomorrow!! i will see you there!!!

(what did you think?? did you like this one as much as i did?? did any moments make you tear up?? anything you noticed that i missed? please tell me!!! i'm really excited and want to chat on the subject :D)

[radioactive-earthshine]

In a world where Kon got taken in by Ma and Pa from the getgo like Mae, what do you think the butterfly-effect-ripples would be?

Hi, I apologize for the time it took me to get to this. I really wanted to get some writing done first.

To answer your question...

Nearly everything that happened in his comics likely would not have happened due to placement because much of his narrative was focused on his location and situation. He was in Hawai'i in the start of the comics and thus went through many adventures there, his relationship with Tana was there, his... experiences... with Kay Fury were there too because she herself was there so he would likely never meet her to get those... experiences... He would not have gone back to Cadmus and experienced his mentorship under Jim Harper 😢 (in which case Jim may or may not have avoided his second death) and finally Kon would not have been (temporarily) homeless nor would he have ended up in Suicide Slums in that apartment complex.

The ENTIRE series would likely have been drastically different and depending on the writers his series may have come off more as a typical Superman series with familiar surroundings in Smallville with more typical issues that some iterations of Clark went through as a teenager.

It would be nice though to see them trying to raise Kon the exact same way they did Clark and it just.... not working.... and them sort of butting heads a lot to show a great contrast until there was some sort of understanding and acclimation.

I also wonder how their own parenting of Kon might have been impacted by Clark's death and suddenly there's this kid they are responsible for and all the sorts of baggage they would need to unpack. Would Kon feel like he's replacing Clark in their hearts and that's the only reason why they are doing this? Because they are lonely? It's a interesting thing to explore.

Kon would definitely be mentally better off and emotionally - his exploitation would never have happened and I feel that he would have found out who he is sooner because he would not have had 100 issues of being on his own with little proper guidance (except Jim and I am sorry Dubbilex did not do the best job at protecting Kon from anything).

Another major different would be Kon would likely not have an identity so intrinsically tied to Superboy and he would have the ability to explore who he was more as Conner and not Superboy.

The butterfly ripples would be... massive. Tim would not have likely had that teamup with him in Hawai'i in World's Finest, as stated above all of his adventures in Hawai'i and the multiple crises he helped to mitigate personally would not have come to be, the kid that was murdered because he looked like him would still be alive (a plus), Tana would be alive, Amanda Spence would be dead sooner (a plus), I'd have to reexamine the D.N.Angels to see how Kon being in Smallvile from nearly day one would have gone but I feel like that would have gone differently because Jim would likely not have been murdered and the whole story of Kon running away with his clone baby would not have happened. I don't see how his presence in Young Justice would be entirely different, he likely would still be present but his meeting Tim and Bart likely would have been different.

It would be an interesting AU.

[marztheincredible]

People on twitter are irritating and make me think the general populous lacks basic literacy skills…which is more than likely incorrect and instead those individuals without critical thinking skills just shout the loudest…

Anyway Question!

Because distractions from stupid people are nice.

It’s been stated previously that Palisman are connected to the Titan, due to them literally being grown out of its flesh and formed due to the natural magic of the Titan. (side question would the Titan be a He or an It if referring to the corpse…because it’s a landscape…but also the corpse of a once sentient…err partially sentient corpse…going to stop digging the hole here and wait for an answer)

And it has been established that the Titan still has SOME influence within the working of Titan’s Blessing. That Luz learning magic and glyphs the Titan sharing it with her. Not overtly or directly mind you but still. But Palisman seem much more important in Titan’s blessing and wild witch society than just being a pal for life. Like for instance the whole bit with the Necromancer having to beat the Palisman of a buried Witch in order to prove themselves capable and responsible enough to use the corpse. Assuming they went through all the proper rites with Necromancy and all. Which makes me think that Palisman are intrinsically linked to their witch’s magic, on a fundamental level, if they are able to puppet their witch and their magic from beyond the grave. (Although admit-ably we do not know precisely how the whole defending the grave situation works and if it’s a puppet situation or a the Palisman calling their owner back to life for a few moments as the two work together and test the Necromancer and I’m rambling.)

And even in canon we see bits that haven’t been explained yet but seem curious to me. Eda’s anime power moves when she fought Lilith over the bridge come to mind. Her magic “aura” was shaped like Owlbert her Palisman. Which is Interesting. What does that mean? Is is a reflection of how much of Eda’s identity is The Owl Lady or of how powerful her bond is with Owlbert, the only companion she has had constantly for years? WHO KNOWS! But this question is running away from me!

The question started out as Were Palisman instrumental in communing with the Titan? Or further a bond between Witch and Titan. But now I guess it’s more a question of Palisman??? Witches and Palisman and symbiotic relationships between plants (they are made of wood fight me on their categorization) and animals?

Anyway hi how you doing love to hear your thoughts

Palisman my beloveds!!!!

Like you said in Titan’s Blessing and here in some asks we’ve hit on some lore for these companions. So let’s recap and answer your questions as best we can yeah?

The Titan did have much more influence during The Savage Ages because he was Remembered. The connections Witches and Demons had with him were sacred and that connection deepens with Palisman. As Belos’ influence over took the Isles, The Old Ways we’re warped and dissipated, and in turn many traditions that sought and fueled the symbiotic relationship with the Titan dissipated as well. The Titan is being Forgotten and thus his Influence is too.

Palistrom Groves for some are considered holy grounds and were revered, as these were places where many would say they could hear the Titan speak to them as they found their tree to carve from. To have such areas where any Witch could feel that connection and hear the being they live on is a dangerous foil for the Emperor, who claims only HE can hear the Titan’s Will.

“Then the Palistrom wood became much too scarce. The Druids had all but disappeared and the self-proclaimed guardians of the Titan’s body were nowhere to be seen to guard the groves. Witches clad in white with vulture masks swept through every grove and chopped down each tree. From the ancient to the sapling, barely any Palistrom Tree was spared.” —TB Chapter 13: Into the Woods

When Palisman are carved by a Witch’s own hand the bond is formed. Literally and figuratively a part of their soul is intertwined with the Palistrom Wood to give their companion life and in turn connect with the Titan, just has he did when gifting his Children with magic all those years ago. A beginning to an end, the cycle begins anew.

“The Owl Lady carved Owlbert, as her hands worked, her magic weaved and her soul became Owlbert’s soul. She is his and He is hers. ” —The Bat Queen

For Witches who aren’t as skilled with their hands they turn to a Druid called a Spiritmender. The Witch still has the task of finding a Palistrom Tree that calls to them, but it’s the Spiritmender who carves their Palisman. It is a longer process, as the Druid takes the magic of Plant, Oracle, and Healing (in Coven terms) to carve and weave the Witch’s soul into Palistrom wood. Dell Clawthorne held this honored title. He isn’t called The Steady Shepard for nothing, he’s carved many Palisman in his youth and passed on the knowledge, just as his parents did, to his daughters.

“Hundreds of years ago Witches of old would pass through her woods, seeking a Palisman, if one did not have the skill to carve one, or the luck of finding a Druid with the honored title of a Spiritmender to make one for them.”—TB Chapter 13: Into the Woods

A Palisman can decide if they wish to find a new bond after their Witch dies. They can either be passed on from parent to child or Mentor to Apprentice. They can return to a Grove and be cared for until another Witch or Demon makes a connection with them.

And naturally, because Palistrom Wood is powerful in its own right having a Palisman gives you a boost to your magic. Two working as one.

[androgynousblackbox]

Following up with this line of thinking, I am also more than a little tired about how everyone won't stop bringing up the background of the director of Saltburn to say that there is no real examination or class or that is a failure at portraying the high class as anything but "vapid but nice". Like, to see it reduced merely to this "fear of the high social class for those pesky social climber that will come to suck us dry and take our stuff", because, and maybe this is truly just me, it doesn't come across that way? Like, to me this is the story of a man that is obssesed with being loved. By Felix at start, for sure, but then on getting the things he thinks will make people love him. Because he is a akward little weirdo that unless he has an agenda can't interact with people to save his fucking life, and everyone can fucking see that, he recognizes that part of himself and go "oh, but if I had that money and that property and that title then people will like me, then I will be someone worth loving". On that scene at the party two guys are talking about Felix right after he took some girl from one of them. One of them ask why that always happen, what do girls look on him, and the other answers something like "get yourself a title and a castle and they will chase you too". Ollie is literally there, he hears that and later sees Felix having sex with that girl. To me that communicates the idea that Ollie is internalizing that Felix has something that allowed that interaction to happen, that made that girl prefer him over that guy, and it has to be with that class. It's not so much about the "middle class wanting to scalate" so much as this guy being so fucked up, so intrinsically and genuinely broken, but still so desperate to be loved, that he is willing to steal whatever is around him in order to try to find that love. He lies to his parents so they will keep loving him, he lies to Felix because he thinks that is what Felix wants to hear, he lies to himself that if he just gets more power, if he becomes like Felix, if he has this stuff, maybe people will love him like they did Felix. Fuck, he probably lied to the counselor at the start about reading all those books because that is what he thought a counselor would like hearing about. I don't even know if he actually needs glasses or he just uses them because hey, this is a university or whatever, so I should look like smart people look in order to fit in. My guy has no fucking sense of identity at all so he keeps searching for external things, like validation from others, for that. And it bothers the fuck out of me when people also say that his motivations are all over the place or make no sense, because to me it's pretty clear that he is always trying to fill a void that ultimate still remain void. Because fucking congratulations man, you won the house! And nothing else! You have no friends, no family, fucking no one to see you dance naked. This is your place and you will probably die here alone because, even after all of this, nobody knows you or loves you. You got everything you wanted and an entire life to see that is still never going to be enough.

Am I wrong? Is it the issue that I look at it from a character story degradation stand point rather than a anti-elite narrative? Like, as it is, the elite here are trash, I am sorry. They are careless, selfish, vapid and have no sense of real humanity for them. The tragedies of other are just conversation topics, shiny toys to entertain themselves and nothing else, and like, how the fuck can you say that is just "rude at worst"? How can you see the mother literally blaming Pamela for potentially getting herself killed, at the hands of a known abuser they just did nothing to help her with once kicked out, and think "rude" instead of "fuck you"? These people are completely disconnected from the entire world that they don't see others as real people. Like the whole sequences after they find Felix's dead body is horrifying for me, and it should be for the viewer too I think, when they literally just close the windows and pretend like nothing happened. "Oh, well, it's a british high class thing", and that makes it okay? Is that just "rude but ultimately nice people"? Because to me, everything about them screams fucking aliens who will never, ever, care about anyone but themselves and that is fucked up. I don't want to ever associate with people like that. I know people like that and I don't ever interact with them voluntarely. I can deal with "sometimes rude" people, these fuckers are on another level and I am just confused as to how you can tell me that they are not.

Sometimes I feel like the only person who loves seeing media critiquing capitalism, talking about class, and just don't like at all the Menu. Like, I saw a video of someone saying that the movie is really about violence and how "if you want a violent revolution, then you are just as bad as the people who want to exterminate you", and I also don't vibe that, but also I don't really buy into the whole "oh, this movie is about destroying the elite and literally eating the rich", like.... I can see parts of that, but more than anything is... meh. I still think it's kinda weak even after seeing reaction and review videos from people who do actually work on that industry, who understood the little nuances behind the dishes and what not. I guess my biggest issue is the main guy. Like, he makes this huge fucking deal about how he has come to hate everything he does, about how he wants to punish the people who don't appreciate his work, who are so filthy rich that take it for granted, and I am here like but, my guy, you are part of this industry too. You made it so the people who work with you in this bullshit island idea have no life outside of this. You created this shit. Nobody forced you into doing this. You made this hell. You put yourself on it. Why should I root for you to take it out on people who did nothing to you? Taking it back to that "this movie is about violence on both side of social conflict", fuck that shit because oppressed people did fuck all to be on that position. They didn't choose to live that life and they did nothing to deserve it. This guy literally couldn't have done anything to reach that place that wasn't his own will. So I am fucking ass confused as to WHY people are taking this movie as some kind of "fuck you" to the elite class, when the "fuck you" comes from a part of the elite that prefers to do anything before going to therapy? Like the first death is an angel investor and like, sincerely, just why is this guy being punished for giving you the money for this stupid bullshit you wanted to make? I just never get a sense that either he or the movie is aknowledging this? Like, what, I am supposed to feel bad because making a simple cheeseburger is fulfilling for him and he forgot that while he was making those fancy ass dishes? Why was just giving up this island bullshit and getting your own restaurant with cheesburgers not an option here? "Uh but then we wouldn't have the movie" doesn't cut it for me. Why are we treating this like a tragedy that just happened to this guy, and that is why he has a right to lash out, instead of just his own fucking choices? And like, if you tell me "my guy, this is just a horror movie. It's supposed to be unhinged. If every serial killer went to therapy instead of doing unhinged evil things we won't have a genre anymore" and like, fine, sure, but then why are people treating it like it's something bigger than that? Why I see so many people being on the side of this guy or even rooting for him? I don't get it, I truly don't.

Like, when he starts monologuing about why everyone is going to die and he just shit in John Leguizamo because he did a bad movie that he went to see on his one free day, I am just like bitch, you are your own boss. You did that to yourself. And you can watch more than one movie in a day? He didn't want that role either, the fuck are you on about. Maybe that is just part of the comedy, it's supposed to be just one joke about how truly petty and nonsensical this bullshit has turned into, which like good, fun, but then that really clashes with that being on his side. I don't want to be on the side of a guy who shits on actors for just doing their job with bad scripts they didn't write. It's confusing to me seeing people saying "this movie is a true criticism of class while something like Saltburn is not" and maybe that is the thing about art, that everyone is supposed to have different interpretations and tastes and whatever, but I feel like a fucking alien seeing this kind of discourse pop out because I just fundamentally disagree with it. I don't even know if it's a me thing that I don't understand or it's a gringo thing somehow? I don't know, it's weird.

[pandakailovesshangchi]

Namor, hero or villain?

Namor, the king of atlantis, a hero of world war two, one of humanity’s most dangerous foes, an avenger, a member of the cabal, a saviour of thousands, a murderer of millions. You can say all of these things about Namor and you’d be right about every single one of them. 

Namor is a character that has been used as a villain and hero numerous times throughout his very very long existence in marvel comics. He was an x men, an avenger, part of the illuminati (although whether you consider them heroes or not is another matter), a part of the inavders and probably more teams then I can think of. If you look at the list, it paints a pretty good picture of the guy, regardless of what his personality is like. But, wel... 

He has often times attacked the surface world with tsunamis, invasions and the like only to be thwarted by the intrepid heroes of the world that more often then not simply let him retreat back to his home. Often times these attacks were caused by misconceptions or decepit, trying to pin the blame on someone else to unleash the sub mariner on your foes, but many other times the cause is simply left unaddressed. 

What is this cause? Well, marvel’s decision to intrinsically link every oil spill and exploitative fishing techniques with Namor’s kingdom. The times where Namor has attacked because of human’s desecrating his home or subjects are many, and the sympathy he gets from others tends to vary wildly. While many heroes (like in the most recent run of the avengers) understand his reasoning, they stop him but refuse to acknowledge the root of the problem, that actions such as these are many, and they don’t stop happening. 

This, is where people start to question, hero or villain? One could even say that marvel itself doesn’t know the answer to the question, and more often then not the answer depends on what kind of plot device the writers want to turn Namor into. His reasoning, values, loyslties and morality are often tweaked, changed or disregarded completely for the sake of the plot. 

So, maybe we should stop and look at Namor, and who this person is. He is atlantean, he is human and he is a mutant, he is a patchwork of different identities that are often at war with one another and that he often has to choose one over the other due to (in my opinion) Atlantis’ absolutely abysmal acceptance of anyone that is different. 

Atlantis’ racism and its influence in Namor is very much a part of his character, while his hate for the surface world can be largely explained by all the ugly things he has seen from it, no little part of it is the own culture he was raised in that belittled surface worlders and Namor himself, who often times isn’t considered a ‘real’ atlantean by his own people. 

Namor himself, I won’t lie, is a whole can of worms of a character. He is prideful to a deadly degree, arrogant to the detriment of his people and stubborn in a way that can sometimes prove fatal to his kingdom’s future and wellbeing. But, he is also honourable, a man of his word that is sencere, and loyal to those who have earned his trust and friendship (though currently, after inavders (2019) and the whole mess in Avengers, that list is practically empty).

Which, the whole being alone thing is another thing that makes Namor himself, above anything else, Namor is lonely. There is no one out there who is quite like him, though human vein flows in his veins he is not accepted by them and he rejects them as well, his atlantean blood wars with the other in a battle of morality and the perseverity of his people. His mutant status does nothing to breach the gap between himself and other, simply marking another difference that sets him apart. 

And to all of this, you must add the fact that he is a king, which is a lonely position in and out of itself. He is a figure to be admired and followed by his subjects, his wives have all been killed and his family is either dead, distant or hates him. His fellow heroes are individualistic people who hold no responsability for the people they protect, they do not have to ensure the following generations will not only survive, but thrive, they do not have to worry about feeding their people, or people doubting their right to rule, or holding the responsibility of thousands of lives under the weight of the crown. 

Nobody is like Namor, so nobody can empathise with Namor, pushing him deeper into a well of islotion that has been carved very much by himself and those around him, wether knowingly or not. 

Everything I have said is important in answering the question of ‘is Namor a hero or a villain?’ Namor is a complex character who, in recent comics specially, has only been used to create conflict that is superficial and many times out of character. Namor, is not evil, he is pragmatic and cruel sometimes, but nothing he does is done out of an intent to make anyone suffer. 

Becuase the crux of the problem is that he cares, Namor loves his people to a dangeroues degree that makes him irrational in the best of days. He is king to a dwindling people who have had their city and homes destroyed almost like clockwork in the last ten years, being left with nothing over and over again while Namor tries to solve the problems, but can’t.

Recently, Namor has been forced to join the avengers to atone for his sin out of She hulk’s advice. He is a king without a crown, and a man with no friends. From what little we’ve been shown he seems to be contemplative, been forced for the first time in very long to reconsider his choices and actions. Although my hopes are low, I hope that the avengers comics can show that Namor can be one of the best heroes out there, he can become something other then a symbol of an enemy under the waves, he can be a symbol of peaceful coexistence between the surface world and Atlantis. 

But the avnegers is a big team, whose character focus often times vary wildly and lead to unsatisfying story archs. However, hope is sometimes all we can afford.

So to answer the question, is Namor a hero or a villain?

For now, you can’t say he’s either of those things. But I do believe, that he can become a hero.

[antisocialxconstruct]

Would you consider answering the Six Secrets List for Maksim? If it's not too much to ask?

[”Six Secrets” list]

Listen I will never turn down a chance to lore-dump about my OCs are you kidding? You're probably thinking FHR but I'm still deep in SR Brain Rot so...... I'll do both >:3

Fallen Hero:

An open secret: Maksim is extremely antisocial. His default attitude toward people as a general concept is resentment at having to associate with them, and they have to be upgraded from that to at least "begrudging respect" on an individual basis. It's not a secret secret in the sense that he's not actively trying to hide it, but he'd make a halfhearted effort to deny it if asked because he recognizes that it's not a Correct Human Attitude™ and doesn't want to navigate the debate that would come from admitting it.

A secret people close to him know: That he's transmasc. Ricardo and Chen know because he transitioned during his vigilante days, but I doubt Argent or Danny do because I can't imagine either of the former being the type to out him without his consent, and he certainly doesn't trust them enough to tell them. He'd probably tell Mortum at some point once they were interacting face to face, especially because she makes enough oblique comments herself that he'd start to suspect she would Understand.

A secret he wouldn't care if it got out: He likes to cook! He's not super exceptionally skilled or anything which is why he doesn't see the point in advertising it (not worth bragging about), but he's also not embarrassed or self-conscious about it or anything so it's really more of an "it just never came up :/" kind of secret.

A secret exactly one person knows: That his accent is an affect 😬 His whole constructed backstory hinges on the fact that no one thinks he has any family in America, and if he ever slipped up it would obviously lead to, at best, some very awkward conversations about why he would fake that. The only person who knows is Mortum, and that's only because she also knows he's a re-gene and the Farm is in Nevada.

A secret he sort of wants to come out: his villain identity... Obviously he knows why it can't get out, at least not yet, but that doesn't change the fact that sitting on the secret is incredibly frustrating when he views it as so intrinsic to his identity and proof of his independence. Pretending to be a burned-out nobody feels demeaning because he knows who he really is: someone with power and money and influence who deserves to be respected. But he's not allowed to demand that respect because all he'd get is an execution >:/

A secret no one knows and no one ever can: How much being half-blind actually stresses him out. He's not exactly hiding that 100% successfully considering how jumpy he gets around Ricardo, but out in public he obviously has to hide the fact that he's got his telepathic senses dialed up to offset his reduced vision, which gets draining quickly, and around the Rangers he's got to pretend he doesn't even have those powers anymore while also not dropping his guard so much that he feels unsafe. No matter what it's a balancing act that takes up more of his mental energy than he'd like to admit, and he hates that that makes him vulnerable in more ways than one.

Shadowrun:

An open secret: Honestly same as above lmao that's just his fundamental personality

A secret people close to him know: The real circumstances around the failed run that prompted him to leave New York. The fact that there was a failed run is also sort of an open secret, and the fact that he was (ostensibly) the one at fault gets around sometimes much to his annoyance, but the actual gritty details of how he was possessed and how traumatic it was are strictly reserved for people who have earned a certain level of trust, of which there are very few. (Probably also still that he's trans but in this case he's been stealth since he was a teen)

A secret he wouldn't care if it got out: That he was in spetsnaz training for four years in Russia. For the most part he doesn't actively bring up his military history but he also kind of can't help the fact that some people pick up on it because he still tends to carry himself like a soldier. He doesn't really like to talk about it but he's not overly concerned with people knowing the basic fact that it happened.

A secret exactly one person knows: That all the cybernetic enhancements were just a coping method. After The Incident in NYC only one of his surviving team members, Strikeout, actually stayed in close contact with him until he left, so ze was the one who watched him work through the trauma and eventually resolve that shredding his essence was the only way he'd feel safe again. When ze couldn't reason him out of it ze at least agreed to keep it between them.

A secret he sort of wants to come out: That he's being hunted and it scares him :( Somebody wants him punished for that NYC run and he doesn't know who or why, all he knows is that they're following his movements way too closely. The idea of admitting he might be in over his head makes him sick but at the same time he knows he's probably going to need skills or resources he doesn't have if he wants to survive, which means he needs to find someone he can trust enough to bring into the situation.

A secret no one knows and no one ever can: How much he actually regrets crippling his telepathic abilities. He still believes it was the right move because that magic was the weak point that let something get into his head, but he relied pretty heavily on it and he's acutely aware that he sacrificed something unique that gave him a huge advantage over other people. By now he's adjusted pretty well, but there's still that nagging voice in the back of his mind saying he never should have had to.

[silenceinternalmonologue]

A Review of Loki (2021)

[The following is an exact transcription of Twitter user @/diolesbian ‘s thread linked here . They gave me permission to cross-post their thread on my Tumblr. Keep in mind that this review is fairly long and quite critical of the series. I agree with this review wholeheartedly, and would be welcome to discuss it with anyone else.] 

Loki is a character who has died many times, but his own series may be his most brutal character assassination yet.

1.  Loki’s role in the series. Instead of tackling Loki's most villainous state of mind in Avengers 1, the series literally speedran through his development in the subsequent films, after which they almost entirely halted his character progression.

Because this series was set right after Avengers 1 it had the responsibility of developing Loki further in place of The Dark World and Ragnarok. In Episode 1, this development was kicked off by having Loki watch a reel of some of his defining moments in the MCU, allowing him to see his future all the way up to his death in Infinity War. Sadly, this scene ended up being the most development he received in the entire series. And arguably, this isn’t even true development but more like a speedrun of his character up until that point, serving as a simple tactic to explain why he wouldn’t be acting all dictatorial and murderous during his own series. As soon as he had been made “good” (read: docile) enough to follow along with the plot, his agency was completely thrown out. From that point on, the series wasn’t about Loki making things happen but about things happening to Loki.

Loki was supposed to be the main character, but he wasn't the protagonist in this story. In fact, he was more of a side character than we’ve ever seen him be in the MCU before, perhaps excepting IW and Endgame.

A protagonist is by definition someone whose important decisions affect the plot, whose development is followed most closely by the audience, and who is opposed by an antagonist. Loki exhibited none of these traits in this series. Especially the latter half of the story, he was reduced to simply reacting to the revelations around him, such as the reveal that the TVA members were all variants and that Kang was the true mastermind behind everything. He never truly involved himself or acted based on any of these plot points, and hardly played a key role in what was supposed to be his own story. Even in the films, where Loki is a side character, he makes choices which impact the plot to a larger extent. He almost seems more like a background character in the role of protagonist than in the parts he plays in the films.

2. The antagonist. The TVA could have worked as the perfect setting for Loki to have a new arc. It’s a thematic antithesis to who we know Loki to be. But when this Loki turns out to not be who the audience thought he was the TVA’s thematic significance falls apart as well.

In Episode 1, the TVA’s Agent Mobius enlists the help of Loki the Variant to pin down a greater foe who we are told is another, more malicious version of Loki. Order and chaos meeting in the middle, teaming up to take down an enemy, who even happens to be the protagonists’ literal evil self: that works, it sounds promising. But this dynamic is soon undermined when Loki leaves with Sylvie. Still, the benefit of the doubt is easy to grant here: a story about tricksters is bound to contain twists. But by Episode 3 the series is halfway done and the TVA has been appointed as the main antagonist again: we’ve now established villains three different times. And then the Cloud Monster At The End Of Time is introduced, and finally Kang. In other words, the Loki series has no consistent antagonist, no one to pit its main character against. And this is where we once again miss out on an enormous aspect of Loki’s potential characterization.

Protagonists are always defined by an antagonist, whether a purple Titan, a flat tire, or themself. Loki is not given anything to define his morals, motivations, or development in opposition to and this is a huge oversight. Especially given the fact that Loki has taken on the villain’s role in the past: how is the audience supposed to know that the “bad guy” is now a “good guy” if there’s no “even worse guy” to stand up against?

3. The plot. A plot should show off its MC’s strengths and match their personality. The Loki plot hardly relied on his presence at all, he didn't play a key role. The story had so little to do with Loki that it seemed as though he has barely any impact on “his” narrative.

One of the most central conflicts in the Loki series doesn’t involve him at all: it’s between Sylvie and the TVA. This plotline was a good concept overall, but its main problem is that it’s practically the only conflict in the series. Loki himself, as mentioned before, isn’t set in opposition to anything or anyone. And thanks to his relationships with Sylvie and Mobius being weakened by conflicting storytelling devices, he appears to be in a bubble by himself away from the rest of the cast for much of the story. First he follows Mobius around, then Sylvie, then he wanders aimlessly in the void before following Sylvie once again and learning that Kang is a Really Bad Guy who he should be opposed to even though by this point he has interacted so little with the story unfolding around him that the audience doesn’t even understand why he should be choosing to play the hero.

The plot and the characters both suffer by being so incredibly unrelated to each other. A series, especially an MCU one, should tell an overarching narrative through the perspective of its main character.

In the beginning of the series, when Loki was still getting his bearings in the TVA, this lack of decision-making was more understandable, especially since some of his skills were still being shown-- he discovered Sylvie was hiding in nexus events, and he made the choice to leave Mobius and follow her. But by the latter half of the series he still hasn’t had much impact on the story or taken any actions of his own, and simply allows plot points to happen to him. Just because the Loki series had to introduce the TVA and Kang didn’t mean it had to forgo telling a story about its protagonist. If Loki’s story had been intrinsically tied to the overarching plot points, if his choices had been some of the primary factors determining how events ended up taking place, the series would have succeeded in every aspect. But instead Loki is pushed aside by the plot of his own series, a plot which subsequently ends up coming across as largely hollow and pointless due to its lack of character drive.

4. Loki’s arc. One of the main reasons MCU Loki is loved is for his excellent character development across his films. TVA Loki was extremely lacking in that aspect and chances to take his character in interesting new self-aware directions were thrown away without much thought.

Throughout the MCU, Loki is on a journey with many highs and lows. He goes from a bitter and disheartened prince standing in the shadow of his brother, to a self-loathing Jotun bent on destroying his own people in a desperate attempt to win his father’s love, to a half-mad partially mind-controlled dictator with delusions of grandeur fueled by his own insecurity, to a prisoner wondering what there is left for him to lose, to a savior of Asgard’s people finally coming to accept his place in what is left of his family, to a tragic sacrificial victim who knew he had to die so the true hero might live on. That’s a hell of a journey, incidentally shown in less than TWO HOURS of screen time, and the prospect of TVA Loki embarking on an equally stimulating one, this time told over the course of over four hours and shown from his own perspective the entire way through, was exciting. But as it turned out, this relatively simple expectation went completely unmet.

For a story trying to say so much about individuality and self-acceptance, the Loki series seemed to pass by every obvious opportunity to tackle those questions.

Sylvie’s introduction seemed like a good idea at first: Loki would be able to literally bond with himself and learn to accept who he is that way, and forays could be made to explore what Loki’s personality could have been like if he grew up under different circumstances! But aside from a scene or two in Episode 3, this was not how things ended up going. Loki didn’t come to any grand or important conclusions about his identity, he didn’t choose to act differently, all that happened was a vaguely-worded confession of pseudo-romantic feelings which was cut off in the middle, made no sense, and weakened the narrative in a whole host of other ways explained elsewhere. Loki’s encounter with other versions of themself in the Void was similarly meaningless: Loki didn’t end up expressing or demonstrating a single thing he learned from meeting all of those alternate selves, despite the fact that there was potential for massive self-discovery there.

Less than 2 hours of MCU screen time portrayed Loki more coherently than this entire series. Loki is loved because of how much he changes, and it felt like he didn’t in this series. He started off lost and stayed that way throughout the entire plot.

By the end of the series, it was impossible to identify who Loki had become. He said he didn’t want a throne, but it was not obvious why not. He looked sad to be betrayed by Sylvie, but never expressed what that meant to him. He seemed afraid once Kang was unleashed, but why? Why did he care about the Sacred Timeline? What were his motivations? Throughout the series the answers to these questions became less and less obvious, culminating in the final episode which ended without a single moment of reflection or explanation as to who Loki had become. He wasn’t a villain, but only because he wasn’t murdering people. He was in some capacity a hero, for… being against Kang, probably, but once again with no explanation as to why Loki had decided to feel that way. He never seemed self-assured in his heroism, as if he hadn’t chosen the role for himself. Again, making one’s own choices that shape the narrative are what differentiates a protagonist from a side character, but Loki did not do that in this series.

5. Loki and Sylvie’s relationship. Loki and Sylvie had the potential to be a powerful duo representing the process of self-acceptance but instead they were reduced to a strange pseudo-romance.

Despite Loki’s many developments in the films, he never truly liked himself. He has been known to act extremely confident and self-righteous at times, but this is merely the opposite side of the coin containing his self-loathing and insecurity. Having him literally meet and subsequently befriend himself in Episode 3 was a move towards developing this aspect of him and potentially teaching him to finally accept himself as he truly is, but this buildup was all shattered in Episode 4 when the relationship is portrayed to have romantic undertones. Instead of a powerful struggle to accept oneself, the relationship between Loki and Sylvie becomes a twisted thing which is memeable at best (selfcest LOL amirite?) and outright damaging to both characters and the very concept of loving oneself at worst.

Ultimately, Loki and Sylvie's relationship didn’t add anything to either character’s development and actively detracted from what could have been a touching story.

Romantic love is extremely different from self love; romantic love has connotations including dating conventions and sexuality which are impossible to ignore and in this case serve as a distraction. And on top of ruining a potentially powerful storyline, this strange relationship makes both Loki and Sylvie seem out of character. Loki is once again one thousand years old and he has never even had a true friend, so why would he possibly fall for someone after knowing them for only two days? Meanwhile in Sylvie’s case, Loki’s “feelings” for her cause the audience to pay more attention to her romantic life and gestures rather than her actual character and motivations.

6. Loki’s Sexuality and Gender Fluidity. Loki’s sexuality and gender has been shown in several comic runs, and the series was advertised as featuring this representation as well. But due to several fundamental errors and problematic storytelling this also fell flat.

Sylvie’s introduction filled many fans with hope regarding the portrayal of Loki’s identity. In the MCU neither of their LGBT identities had ever been touched upon, while the series introduced a female variant of Loki and explicitly stated their sexuality. But this portrayal soon unraveled, most notably in Episode 5, in which many other Loki variants were shown but not a single one besides Sylvie was non-male. On top of that, when TVA Loki mentioned Sylvie and referred to her as “a woman Variant of us”, the other Lokis agreed that that sounded “terrifying”. Why should a genderfluid being be afraid of a version of themselves presenting as a different gender? It read as both fluidphobic not to mention strangely sexist.

The pseudo-romance between Loki and Sylvie only aggravated the situation. Not only did the nature of the “relationship” seem to follow heteronormative storytelling tropes (falling in love after a couple days of knowing each other, one party being reduced to a love interest, valuing romantic love above any other type, etc) but it also seemed distressing and offensive to many genderfluid people. A romance between a male and a female Loki, one of which doesn’t even call herself by that name, seems to be implying that an individual becomes someone else when merely presenting as a different gender, which of course isn’t at all the case. The writing wasn’t necessarily malicious here, but it was certainly ignorant and potentially even harmful. The opportunity was there to translate Loki’s powerful comic representation into the framework of the MCU, but this attempt did not succeed.

7. Loki’s characterization. Loki is a chameleon, but there are certain traits fundamental to his character. These traits were either ignored or actively mocked in the series. The audience already knew “what makes a Loki a Loki", but the series threw that knowledge away.

Episode 1’s premise of stripping Loki of everything he is used to was an intriguing setup to ensure the discovery of the core of who Loki truly is. The only problem was that this truth didn’t end up being found at all. Mobius made fun of Loki’s most defining traits, such as his habits of lying to manipulate people and acting out of a place of insecurity, which seemed to be a signal for the narrative to forbid Loki from exhibiting any of those traits from that point on in any way. This reduction in Loki’s character was reflected in everything, from his lack of humor (in the films he’s even funny while he’s taking over the world!), the underpowered way in which he fought against Sylvie (he’ll use magic to dry his clothes, but fight with a damn vacuum cleaner?) to the way that he wore the same boring outfit in every single episode-- it may sound shallow, but clothes are important when presenting a character. Every one of Loki’s looks in the films said something about him and his state of mind, and sadly that bland TVA outfit seemed to convey that Loki really was nothing more than a subservient pawn in what was supposed to be his own story. Ironically, the writing stripped Loki of everything that made him Loki, and left us with nothing but a Jotun-shaped void to be swayed by the whims and wills of the characters and plot devices surrounding him.

8. Loki’s past and abilities. This series could have elaborated on aspects of his character which had been teased at in the films and theorized about by fans, but ended up being a disappointment in this aspect as well.

Aside from Loki’s characterization and development, something else the series ignores is much of his canon story in the films. Since Thor 1, a truth that always overshadowed Loki was his Jotun heritage. He struggled with it up until the time of his death, clearly visible in his relationship with his foster family. It’s understandable that Loki was supposed to be independent from Thor in his series, but that’s no excuse for completely ignoring this central part of who Loki is. It doesn’t matter how much he goes through or how much his circumstances change, this feeling of unbelonging sits deep in Loki’s core and should have been both explored and explicitly discussed in the series. A series all about Loki was the perfect opportunity for him to finally confront and explain his relationship with his heritage, and potentially come to terms with it as well. And this isn’t even to say how cool some more insight on Loki’s Jotun inheritance could have been-- hypotheticals aren’t the point of this review, but it would have been fascinating to see Loki reacting adversely to heat like he has been hinted to in the past or even using his ice powers like he did in Thor 1.

Loki's magic was tragically underused. It felt like he was stripped of all of his magical powers even after his TVA chains had been removed, and this was never explained.

A second huge oversight is his magic. His powers are all over the place in this series. They were always a bit vague in the films, but this series was the opportunity to set that right and explain exactly what Loki was capable of as a sorcerer, especially now that the MCU has embraced magic more than it had ten years ago. But instead, Loki showcased an inexplicable lack of magic use-- again, the vacuum cleaner fight can be presented as evidence. There is a single scene in which Loki says that he learned his magic from Frigga, but no information is given as to how much he learned or why he doesn’t always favor spells. His power levels are incredibly inconsistent (he forgoes using magic when first confronted by the TVA, but is later shown using telekinesis to save himself from being literally crushed to death). And, strangest of all, there is a scene in which he tells Sylvie that he “can’t” enchant living beings. Loki, the millennium year old Trickster sorcerer god, who can hold an Infinity Stone with his bare hands, reanimate Surtur in the Eternal Flame, and trick the average person using illusions with ease, can’t cast a little enchantment? And if so, why not? The series offered precious few explanations concerning Loki’s magical abilities and instead only raised more questions. And in this way, Loki is once again relegated into the background and left with not a single shred of any new characterization or development. 

Loki contains multitudes, but the series reduced him to two dimensions.

This isn’t to mention every other facet of Loki’s story that could have potentially been explored to great success in this series-- his torture and subsequent partial mental influence at the hands of Thanos just before the events of Avengers 1 is one obvious example, as is his youth on Asgard, as are his suicidal tendencies (people don’t tend to survive falling off the Bifrost, and he knew that when he threw himself off of it), plus infinite other facets of him. Of course, it was both necessary and more interesting for this series to be its own story rather than one which lingered on past films-- but that’s not to say that none of these plot points should have come back, at least subtly, to play a role in this story. Plot points exist to be brought back later, not completely ignored. Otherwise a story may as well be written about a completely original character.

[shini--chan]

The darling injures her head and develops amnesia, how far would the Allies take the manipulation and what story would they present to their darling? (Also I love your writing! It's absolutely amazing!)

Thank you, dear anon. Also, since amnesia is usually displayed in the same cliched version in fiction, I’ve gone a bit out of my way to depict the different types of amnesia. Took quite a bit of research.

Yandere Allies – Amnesia

America

Alfred would both be delighted and worried. Delighted, because that could mean he would get a literal second chance. Worried, because you would have had really hurt yourself when you had jumped from that window in an effort to escape. And because his first thoughts would be dominated by Hollywood’s cliched portrayal of the issue and therefor he would fear that you would regain your memories.

Then, he would recall that there are different types of amnesia. And upon finding out that you would have an inability to access memories of the last four years while still retaining your childhood recollections and sense of identity (Retrograde amnesia), he would be thrilled. That would mean that you wouldn’t be able to recall any of the things he had done that made you wish to leave him. On the flip side, he would be saddened that you wouldn’t remember all the wonderful times you had with him.

Brushing that all aside, he would set out to reforming the very fleeting impressions you would have of him, gradually building up those last years as being something out of a fairy tale. While he might be, he would refrain from depicting everything as sunshine and roses; rather, he would sprinkle hints of artificial low points of your relationship in his story. It would be something that would make all the tales he would tell you more realistic.

 Canada

Matthew wouldn’t know how the blazes you would have managed to get Mercury poisoning, and he wouldn’t like the results of it either. Having a lover with no long term memory wouldn’t be ideal. While you would have a fuzzy grasp on who you are, and still have some impressions of him being important to you, you would have forgotten him (Korsakoff's syndrome). That would be a smarting blow to his ego, pouring oil on the fire, caused by all the jokes of him being second best or invisible.

It would pain him to see how you would only have your short term memory, unable to recall all the things he had done for you, all the memories you had made together. Yet his opportunistic side would kick in and he would decide to draw from the benefits of the situation.

While he would know that your long term memory would be non-existent, he would intrinsically instil the notion of helplessness in you, so that you would always stick to him. He would use your condition as an excuse to metaphorically chain you to his side, as well as site it as a reason for you to never leave him. That why, he would neither have to kidnap you nor hide you. Matthew would convince any neighbours to return you should you wander away. Your condition would become a way for him to publicly justify all his behaviours that would otherwise be treated with scorn.

 China

The question by Yao would be if your amnesia would be intentional or not. Going by his character and his long life along with the accumulated experiences, it would be all on purpose. It wouldn’t be something that he would immediately do; it would rather be like an ace up his sleeve.

Yao would begrudgingly inject you with chemicals that would use very specific gaps in your memory (Drug-induced amnesia). This would be a method he would use in a whole array of situations – such as when he would punish you, or transport you to an isolated location. Or also when he would like to tell you some of his deeper secrets – it would be for your own good since some of them would be of the sort that could invoke nightmares in the toughest of people.

At times, he might even make you beg for the drugs. He would explicitly tell you what would be about to occur and present you the option of either living through the whole thing and carrying the memories with you for the rest of your life, or that you could remain in a cationic state and remember nothing afterwards.

 England

If anything, Arthur would find the whole affair frustrating. While you would clearly remember the beginning of your relationship, where things had been rather rosy as you had slowly gotten familiar with each other, you wouldn’t be able to form any memories after that one car accident you had gotten into (Anterograde amnesia).

You not being able to form recollection would irritate him beyond belief and he would often let that out on you. Why should be hold back after all, when you wouldn’t be able to remember the incident? On the other hand, that would also mean you wouldn’t be able to recall any of the lessons he would try to teach you. Furthermore, since your personal development would be severely stinted by this, he would gradually grow bored with you.

Yet he would still love you, which would be why he would do his best to help you in his own way. He would help you set up morning routines and centre your conversation around the present, focusing more on opinions that accumulated knowledge. Also, he would encourage you to start journaling multiple times a day, as a way to preserve the past in some form. Then he would go on to alter the written word to his heart’s content.

France

The whole affair with Francis would be another case of controlled amnesia. While he would have been doubtful if it would work at all, he would have nevertheless discovered that he could really hypnotise you. Since you would have had to have consented to this for it to work at all, it would mean that you would still have full trust in him and would have not noticed the red flags. However, Francis would know that no matter how well he would play his cards, that relationship could very well turn sour and that partners could turn their backs on each other. So, in the spur of the moment, he would instil orders in you to forget certain things on command (Post-hypnotic amnesia).

Sometimes he would be tempted to use this in other scenarios, such as when you would be particularly bratty and disagreeable. However, he would refrain because he would still want to delude himself into believing that your relationship would be normal.

He would also convince himself it would be for your own good – should there be any scenario that would leave you wishing to forget the whole thing, he would gladly abide to your wish (as long as it wouldn’t feature him erasing himself from your life). So be careful what you wish for.

 Russia

Ivan would be conflicted with your mental state. He would be down to earth enough to acknowledge that he had somehow caused it, even though he wouldn’t know the exact circumstances that lead your depression to evolve into amnesia (Pseudodementia). It would another failure of his on an already long list and it would crush him as well as sooth some wounds.

You would be unable to recall the more… wild parts of your relationship, answering with an apathetic “I don’t know.” whenever he would ask your questions regarding that. Yet just as you would be distressed and upset about your situation, so would he. While you would have forgotten some of the things he would have desperately wanted to forget, the price for it would have been the vivid parts of your personality.

He would be torn between want you to heal and fully become yourself again and having you not able to remember the worse parts of your time together. Ivan would be pragmatic enough to know he couldn’t have both.

[randomslasher]

Patton: The Rebirth of Morality

Okay so this is by no means a ground-breaking take or anything and I know I’ve rambled about this before but--

I’m so excited about Patton’s character arc! 

Patton is such an interesting character to me. He’s simultaneously Morality--a very adult figure who takes on the persona of “Dad”--and emotions, a very basic human function that takes on the persona of the “inner child.” He’s at once Thomas’s innocence AND the collection point for everything Thomas has ever been taught about Morality, making him an internal voice of authority, right?

But here’s what’s so fascinating and awesome about the whole thing to me: our first sense of morality isn’t intrinsic. It’s learned. 

Oh sure, with Empathy we learn “hitting hurts” because we know how it feels to be hit, but we’re also being told by the adults around us from the very start “don’t hit” and we internalize that. 

Then we get a little older and our sense of morality starts coming from family tradition and belief. And for someone like Thomas who grew up Catholic, that means his internal sense of morality very much came from religious doctrine. 

None of that is news, I know, but here’s what I loved about the video and specifically the day it took place (Patton’s name day): 

For those of us who grew up with severe or strict moral codes, there often comes a time in our lives when we are forced to confront those codes and decide whether or not we still believe them. For some of us it happens early--in our teens, maybe, as we explore identity and begin to question authority--but for many of us, it happens late. Hell, some people NEVER question their externally-given sense of morality, either because they feel no need to do so or because they simply cannot overcome the social pressures to adhere to it (someone in a very strict religious upbringing may never question that doctrine if they know doing so might mean being ostracized from their family forever--so they double down, even if it means denying things about themselves, like someone who never comes out and marries and has kids and confesses late in life to having always known they were gay). 

I want to take a moment and be clear here--I’m not making any judgment calls about that. I know there are some situations that make it nearly impossible, possibly even deadly, to question the authority of the moral status quo. My only point in bringing it up is to say that this is a period of inner turmoil and transition that is relatable at ANY age because it could HAPPEN at any age. 

Anyway--so Patton, Thomas’s morality, has taken on this father figure because the odds are very good that Thomas received most of his moral ideas from his parents, and from the Church (the heavenly father). It makes perfect sense he’d take on that form. 

But we know Thomas is also gay, and very welcoming and accepting of things parts of the church might reject. So we immediately have a set-up for a crumbling of the interanlized morality figure as it originally stood. I imagine there was a MAJOR transition period for Patton when Thomas had to come to terms with his own sexuality, but it happened before the show began so we didn’t get to see it. 

Still, this may be a VERY close recreation of what happened back then. Being forced to look, like really LOOK at the moral ideas you were handed as a child and accepted unquestionably as “Truth” is a really, really scary thing. I am not at ALL surprised Deceit has to be involved in this process, because Thomas is basically being forced to consider that some of what he’d always learned wasn’t true (thus our parallel with the Christopher Columbus reference).

And that. Is. Terrifying. 

We see that in Patton,and we see that in Thomas looking to Patton for answers. They’re BOTH suddenly realizing that the answers they always thought were so easy are not easy, and they’re going to have to work together to rebuild a new sense of morality based on what Thomas has learned in his life and come to believe on an instinctive level. You might even say--what he believes to be true on an emotional level. 

So here we have Patton: a combination of Thomas’s emotions and his externalized Moral compass, suddenly realizing that those two parts of himself are at war. He knows what feels right, but it is at total odds with what he’s been told is right. And he has Thomas looking to him for answers that he cannot provide because he doesn’t know anymore. 

So what does he do at first? What a LOT of us do when we start questioning what we’ve been brought up to believe: We double down. We become more devout than ever in the doctrine we were raised with, be that religious, or political, or social, etc. We insist that this must be right because facing the possibility that it isn’t--that we’ve built an identity, made big decisions, even acted out against others, all on a doctrine of falsehood? It’s terrifying. So is the possibility that the people who gave us those doctrines (our parents, teachers, ministers, whatever) may have also been wrong, and therefore fallible. Learning that the people you trusted unquestionably could’ve been wrong, or even just that they are human and make mistakes, can be a very jarring point in a person’s life.

So Patton gets stricter. Adheres more strongly to this downloaded code of ethics. It’s why he’s even started to seem to contradict some of his earlier proclamations (after all, the Patton who says video games are a morally reprehensible waste of time sure doesn’t feel like the same Patton who stayed up late watching reruns of Parks and Rec and eating a bowl full of chocolate sauce and sugar, does he?). He’s trying to be faithful to a fault to that doctrine, perhaps even believing it was his own fault Thomas had gone off-track. 

That’s where we saw Patton in SvS: being faced with the reality of his own possible faultiness, but seeing how terrified that made Thomas and trying to force himself to believe in it again. Thomas cannot handle doubt from his sense of morality, so Patton will repress that sense of doubt, even if it destroys him. 

Which it almost did. 

Patton’s explosion in this episode was not only inevitable, it was critical. He had to let these warring factions within himself--what he felt was right and what he’d been raised to believe was right--finally come to a head. He had to admit that some of what he thought he knew didn’t really make sense in practice, and that TRYING to practice it was literally destroying Thomas. 

He had to take his old sense of confidence, that Dad-ly sense of confident self-assurance, and let it go. 

And now? Well, now we have a Patton who admits he doesn’t always know what’s right. A Patton--and by extension a Thomas--who is going to have to rethink some things, and come to his own decisions about what feels like the truth. 

That process is painful, and jarring, and uncomfortable. And frankly, representing it with Patton turning into a giant monster frog is not at all inappropriate, because that’s how it feels. Not like a frog, per se, but definitely like you’re at war with yourself. If you build your identity on a set of beliefs, those beliefs being forcefully called into question is a really painful transformative process. 

But it’s necessary. And now? Well, now Patton can begin to rebuild. He can accept the frightening but freeing truth that he doesn’t have all the answers, and he can work with Thomas and the others to find a new moral compass. He can recreate himself with what Thomas now knows--and hopefully, keep himself from attaching his identity so strongly to a belief system in future that he won’t be willing to re-examine himself again and again as needed. Because that’s the real lesson here: Morality isn’t stagnant. It needs to be examined, changed, reflected upon, and altered as more and more information becomes available to us. And that’s what Patton can do now: recreate himself with new and better information.

In a sense? He can be reborn. 

Happy Birthday, Patton.  

[missfay49]

Who is Orange?

Disclaimer: Please enjoy?  Accept?  Beware?  This… Thing that started out as character analysis and turned into a deranged fanfic, because I experienced a literal revelation mid-way through free writing.  I did not clean this up much because I’m still reeling from the theory implications myself.  I cursed a lot.

~

What does Orange Side represent?

What do we know?

Orange is a “Dark Side”, defined as being one of the Sides hidden from C!Thomas.

The other Hidden Sides were Janus, Remus, and Virgil.

All the Hidden Sides were hidden due to a key aspect of their character that C!Thomas had to first acknowledge and then accept.  Virgil required C!Thomas to acknowledge that he had heightened anxiety and accept that anxiety isn’t inherently wrong, just a different form of information that can be processed.  Remus required C!Thomas to acknowledge that he had intrusive thoughts and accept that those thoughts don’t make him evil; they’re just thoughts.  Janus required C!Thomas to acknowledge that he was capable of lying and accept that acting “selfishly” sometimes isn’t just okay, but actually critically important to managing stress.

 What are the common themes here?  

Confronting the reality about ourselves instead of pretending some traits don’t exist.

Understanding ourselves to be more complex than ‘good’ and ‘evil’.

Addressing mental health.  

Orange Side is still hidden, but we can expect him to be something C!Thomas doesn’t want to (or isn’t ready to) acknowledge.  Something that would be difficult to accept about oneself.  All Hidden Sides fall under the jurisdiction of Janus, so let’s take another look at him.

In “Can Lying Be Good?” we get a lot of information about what Janus’ purpose is:

Roman: It you really don’t want to know something, he… can keep our mouths shut.

Logan: You don’t want to believe it.  That’s where his power comes from.  Things that you want to believe.  Things that you wish were true.  And things that you wish weren’t.

Deceit: What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

This all means that Orange Side is something that would cause C!Thomas distress to learn and something he subconsciously wishes weren’t true.  This is not new information to most of you: the spin-off interpretations of Apathy and Pride are widely popular fandom theories, traits that are typically viewed as negative in large doses.

But the Hidden Sides being seen as something negative isn’t their only defining characteristic.  They typically involve an aspect a mental health, involve societal expectations, and... what is it...

Janus is the umbrella over all the other Hidden Sides, sheltering and obscuring them from view. He is the gatekeeper in a very literal sense.  What is he gatekeeping?  

What is it?  What is it what is it, why?  What does he do?  What seems bad but isn’t?  What can he do?  What issue is actually useful?  What’s useful what’s useful WHATS USEFUL WHATS USEFUL?!  WHY DOES IT HAVE TO USEFUL?

shitshitSHITSHISTHISTSTs

I KEPT ASKING MYSELF, WHAT’S USEFUL?  WHAT TRAIT COULD IT BE THAT APPEARS BAD, BUT ISN’T BAD, IS ACTUALLY USEFUL.  ANIEXTY WAS OKAY BECAUSE HE WAS JUST LOOKING OUT FOR US.  LYING WAS OKAY BECAUSE HE JUST WANTED TO PUT C!THOMAS FIRST.  INTRUSIVE CREATIVITY WAS OKAY BECAUSE DARK IDEAS OPEN UP NEW PATHS.

But the whole GODDAMN POINT is ACCEPTANCE!  

You don’t HAVE to be useful to be accepted.  You – yuo just BE.  YOU BE!

PEOPLE don’t have to prove their Usefulness to you before you can treat them with respect.  Our WORTH does not depend on what we PRODUCE. YE GODS, THE COGNITIVE DISSONANCE I JUST BROKE-

~~~

C!Thomas comes back from his self-care stay-cation.  He’s ready to start production, he is rested and refreshed.  BUT JUST LIKE EVERY PREVIOUS DILEMMA, it isn’t Good enough, Original enough, Fast enough.  He’s done everything right, why is it still wrong?  He’s accepted his anxiety, he’s accepted that things aren’t just black and white, he’s Accepted That It’s OKAY to have Dark Thoughts, he Has ACCEPTED SELF_CARE.  Why Isn’t IT ENOUGH?!

“Fuck it.”  

C!Thomas spins in his chair, looking at a man that looks just like him, but not quite.

“What?”

“Fuck it.  Fuck them.”

“You sound like Remus,” Thomas jokes.  He’s lying, of course.  He’s nervous. The Side looks like a normal guy, but something about him is unsettling.  The unidentified Side just presses his lips together, unimpressed.

“Um, ef w-who, exactly?” Thomas asks, but part of him already knows.

“All of them.  Every person who isn’t you.  Every person who expects something from you.”

“Now, you sound like Janus.” Thomas looks back at the computer screen, but the Side’s retort has him spinning around again.  

“Janus is a short-sighted pseudo-rebellious minion of a capitalistic society, just like the rest of them.”

“Uh, excuse me?!”

“Isn’t it obvious? They’re all obsessed with Success. Whether they want to play by the rules, or manipulate them, or break them, whether it’s making money or pumping out good deeds, they’re still just trying to make you be successful within the framework of a system that prioritizes production over a human life.”

Thomas just stares for a moment before he can find his voice.

“Who are you?”

“Dude, seriously?”  He waves his hands, palms up and presenting himself.  “I’m Achilleus.  I’m your motivation.”

~~~

Take a deep breath and follow me down the research black hole, where every topic I looked up was more and more terrifyingly appropriate: 

Freedom

noun

the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint.

Self-Determination

noun

the process by which a person controls their own life.

Autonomy

noun

(in Kantian moral philosophy) the capacity of an agent to act in accordance with objective morality rather than under the influence of desires.

Autonomic Nervous System (because i believe each Hidden Side is closer to the subconscious)

noun

the part of the nervous system responsible for control of the bodily functions not consciously directed, such as breathing, the heartbeat, and digestive processes.

Inherent Value

“inherent value in the case of animal ethics can be described as the value an animal possesses in its own right, as an end-in-itself” – Animal Rights – Inherent Value, by Saahil Papar

Intrinsic Value

“Intrinsic value has traditionally been thought to lie at the heart of ethics. Philosophers use a number of terms to refer to such value. The intrinsic value of something is said to be the value that that thing has “in itself,” or “for its own sake,” or “as such,” or “in its own right.”” – Intrinsic vs. Extrinsic Value, by Michael J. Zimmerman and Ben Bradley

“Finally, his sense of respect for the intrinsic value of entities, including the non-sentient, is the Kantian notion of the inherent value of all Being.  This is based on the notion that a universe without moral evaluators (e.g. humans) would still be morally valuable, and there is no reason not to regard Being as inherently morally good.” – Technology and the Trajectory of Myth, by David Grant, Lyria Bennett Moses

Motivation

“Another way to conceptualize motivation is through Self-Determination Theory … which is concerned with intrinsic and extrinsic motivation.  Intrinsic motivation happens when someone does something for its inherent satisfaction.” – Second Language Acquisition Myths: Applying Second Language Research to Classroom Teaching, by Steven Brown, Jenifer Larson-Hall

Capitalism

“The flowery language of the United States Declaration of Independence would have you believe that human life has an inherent value, one that includes inalienable rights such as “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” But in America, a major indicator of value is actually placed on being a productive member of society, which typically means working a job that creates monetary revenue (especially if the end result is accumulated wealth and suffering was inherently involved in the process).” – The Diminished Value of Human Life in a Capitalistic Society, by Seren Sensei

Religion

“At the heart of the debate between Calvinism and Arminianism lay the insurmountable chasm between God’s sovereign election versus human self-determination.” – Sovereignty vs. Self-determination: Two Versions of Ephesians 1:3-14, by Reformed Theology

Mythology

“In Classical Greece, Achilles was widely admired as a paragon of male excellence and virtue. Later, during the height of the Roman Empire, his name became synonymous with uncontrollable rage and barbarism… He chooses kleos (glory) over life itself, and he owes his heroic identity to this kleos. He achieves the major goal of the hero: to have his identity put permanently on record through kleos…

“But is this really an accurate characterization of Achilles' pivotal decision? Is he really driven to sacrifice his life by an obsessive quest for honor and glory? One scene in the Iliad suggests the answer to both questions is no.

“When Achilles leaves the battlefield after his dispute with Agamemnon, the Trojans gain the upper hand on the Greeks. Desperate to convince their best warrior to return, Agamemnon sends an envoy of Achilles' closest friends to his tent to persuade him to reconsider his decision. During this scene, Achilles calmly informs his friends that he is no longer interested in giving up his life for the sake of heroic ideals. His exact words are below:

“The same honor waits for the coward and the brave. They both go down to Death, the fighter who shirks, the one who works to exhaustion (IX 386-388)…

“Not only does Achilles reject the envoy's offers of material reward, but he rejects the entire premise that glory is worth a man's life.” – making sense of a hero’s motivation, by Patrick Garvey

Achilles (/əˈkɪliːz/ ə-KIL-eez) or Achilleus (Ancient Greek: Ἀχιλλεύς, [a.kʰilˈleu̯s])

Achilles realizes his own inherent self-worth, thereby freeing himself from the expectations of others; societal or otherwise.  Only once we are free can we find the balance between our own needs and the needs of others in a way that breeds neither anger nor resentment in either.

~~~

But that’s... that’s just... a theory.   Huh.

[jackandthesoulmates]

Innocence Lost

Author: jackandthesoulmates / tintentrinkerin

Title: Innocence Lost

Created for @winklinebingo

Squares filled: Teen Rebellion, Dating Apps, Virginity

Pairing: Winkline [SamJack], [dysfunctional] Destiel mention

Warnings: Attempted Non-Con

Additional tags: Identity Crisis, Sexuality Crisis, Roofies Mention, Canon Divergency, Original Characters, pan/demi Sam Winchester, Swearing

Word count: 15,691

COMPLETED [READ ON AO3]

Inspired by “Gods and Monsters” (Lana Del Rey)

I Was An Angel

She’s a pretty girl. She really is. 

Long curly, glossy hair and she always smells like flowers. Or cherries. Sometimes bubblegum. Jack is very sensitive to sweet smells and tastes and this girl is just a bouquet of the sugary and most flowery things. He likes smelling her and he likes her voice, it always sounds like she’s singing or telling a fairytale. She even has a princess name: Aurora. 

Her eyes remind him of Castiel, intense blue with yellow speckles. Jack has read some love poems before, by Shakespeare and Wilde and Rilke and he thought of this girl when he read them. She is love poem perfect.

But, look. Thing is, yes she’s cute, she’s stunning, she’s like a spring breeze and a lot of boys would probably sacrifice a hand to be with her. And Jack is her boyfriend. For about two weeks now. 

Jack has no idea how to do this whole relationship thing. He met her when he was about to go buy some bread and pie. He had gone out with his pajama shorts still on and he didn’t even notice. Aurora was behind him in line and when they both were done buying their groceries, she stopped him and whispered in his ear, “You’re still wearing your pajamas!”

The whole which-clothes-when issue was still new to him, that’s why he messed up. And he apologized to her, but she only laughed. And her laughter made him feel better. She made him feel better all around. 

Jack didn’t know much of the world. Of course, he already knew a lot. He knew about hunting and friendships, about family and good and evil. He had experienced a lot already.

In theory, he knew about love. He asked Dean about love and sex. The answers haven’t been all too satisfying and there was no intrinsic feeling, no urge for Jack to go out there and find love. Or sex. He’s found Aurora now, that sweet girl, that perfect girl. She liked him a lot, he knew it. Two weeks are enough to fall in love, it seems. 

Jack isn’t in love. He knows it. Love feels different. Dean and Castiel both have described for him what love feels like. Their wording has been totally different but it was clear they mean the same thing. And they love each other, despite their differing descriptions. 

Why is he with her then?, he asks himself a lot. Because she is nice? She is pretty? She makes him smile? She laughs with him, not at him.

To her, Jack is just a quirky shy boy. He’s not the Spawn of Satan, or a Nephilim, or a Time Bomb. He’s not a tool. Not a weapon. Not an abomination.

He’s just that kid living with these three middle aged weirdos who live in a bunker outside of Lebanon. She never judges. 

What is love then?

Jack has an answer to that. He feels butterflies in his stomach, but it took him a while to understand it was a figure of speech. There were no actual butterflies in his stomach. But it was a tingling, a pull, heart pounding in his chest. Sweating. Shaking. Becoming super dumb all of a sudden, because Jack would confuse words, form abstruse sentences and just completely messes it up. He feels all that. He has dreams about this person and his underwear is wet the next morning. He had googled it and it seems to be a normal thing to happen to boys. But he feels embarrassed every time and hates it when someone else does the laundry. He doesn’t want other people to touch his dirty laundry. He also daydreams about kisses, and hugs, and heavy breathing, of noises that sound like Jack’s in pain, but he clearly isn’t.

Sometimes he would stare at the wall for solid minutes before he snaps out of daydreaming or someone catches his attention. Either by door slamming, “Kid, you there?” or - what Dean likes to do - throwing chocolate bars at him. Jack has angel reflexes, nothing ever hits him. Dean knows it. 

Jack also has been exposed to “adult magazines” already. Dean seems to hide his magazines all over the bunker and it was just a matter of time til Jack found one and took a close, very close look. He was confused about the nudity first, he was told nudity is for showers, bedrooms and birth apparently. He’s been born naked and Sam told him, babies were born naked. And people got naked when they ‘made love’ but that was something Sam didn’t talk about. Jack had asked, but Sam denied telling him how one ‘makes’ love.

The nudity wasn’t the only thing Jack was astounded about. What these people did looked very, very peculiar. And Jack put the magazine back, when his body from belly button down felt tingly, hot and somehow itchy. Even his ‘down there’ started growing. It got hard. It confused him for a while but when his crotch grew soft, he felt relieved and never looked at something like this again.

Later he found out there was a way to make it go soft ‘down there’ again. He just needs to touch himself and what happens then is bombastic. And messy.

This feeling, love. Was he ‘making’ it? But according to Sam two people were needed to make love together. Feeling it all by his own couldn’t be the same then. Jack was confused. 

To add to his confusion, when he was at a case with Dean, Dean had talked about courting and ‘the sex’ and Dean has made fun of him when he came home two weeks ago and announced he had a girlfried. 

“Which base? First? Second?”

Sam gave Dean a scowl and a slight punch against the chest.

“Don’t listen to him, Jack. We’re happy for you.”

When he was in his room at night, he barely slept. As a half angel he didn’t need as much sleep as a human. And he knew that Castiel never sleeps. Sometimes they met in the library to talk and play chess or Go. On some other nights when Castiel wasn’t in the bunker or with Dean, Jack would just read whatever came in handy. They had a large library, but Jack was a fast reader and soon he had to download books to his eReader that Sam gave him for his first birthday. But also, this tiny piece of electronics didn’t have enough capacity to download all the books Jack would read in a week, that’s why he asked Sam for a new microSD card for his smartphone. Sam didn’t say no to Jack very often. Jack read Victor Hugo and Jean-Paul Sartre, also Marcel Proust and he had a great time reading Finnegans Wake and Ulysses. He wished James Joyce was still alive, because Jack wanted to tell him what a great and funny piece of literature he had written.

He asked Sam to summon James Joyce. 

Sam thought he was messing with him, then said ‘no’.

Jack doesn’t like it when people tell him ‘no’ and that makes it even harder now for him to say no to Aurora. 

It’s their second week and she’s so in love with him. Well, that's what she tells Jack. And he likes her pink lips, they look like flower petals and he wonders how they feel. 

Exactly what Aurora wants him to do, outside the waffle’s place. She wants to kiss him and she looks pretty, her closed eyes, a tiny raindrop caught in her long eyelashes and she smells of vanilla and there’s still powdered sugar on her chin. 

Jack backs away. Her pouty lips look nice and he wants to feel them. With his finger.

When she realizes Jack isn’t leaning in to kiss her, she opens her eyes. She looks hurt.

“Did I do something wrong?”, she asks. 

Jack feels incredibly bad about the situation and he doesn’t even know what to say. He can't explain why shies away from a kiss. 

He hasn’t been kissed ever before. And he thinks of someone else when he closes his eyes at night, hand under the cover, rubbing himself through the fabric of his pajamas.

“I’m sorry, I…I have never kissed someone before, I’m…I’m nervous.”

That isn't a lie, he tells himself. It’s not a lie. Lying is bad.

“Oh”, she mouths. A perfect O shape with her lips. 

“Are you mad at me, Aurora?”, he asks, feeling very bad and guilty. 

Jack hates disappointing people and he avoids it at every cost. Usually. But he can’t kiss her, it wouldn’t feel good. He knows, deep down it won’t feel good at all. It won’t be catastrophic, but kissing someone he doesn't like that way is wrong. Sam told him he shouldn’t be physical with people he doesn’t know well. Sam told him he should be physical with someone he really really likes and that more than just as a friend. 

Aurora feels like someone more than a friend, but there’s no nocturnal pining for her. That’s for someone else. That’s why he has to go home now, before he makes it even worse with Aurora.

“No, Jack, it’s okay, I didn’t know…I thought…I mean you said you’re 21, I kinda just thought you already have…you know, kissed someone. Or even more.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. 

“Even more?”

Aurora hides in her pastel pink scarf. 

“Yes, sex, you know?”

With a sigh, Jack looks away and he can feel his face start burning. He has no idea how to have sex, he doesn’t even know exactly what it should be. It was a part of relationships, like Dean and Castiel’s but…all Jack can think about in regards of ‘making love’ and kissing and sex was…Sam.

“I’m not experienced”, he replies, slightly trembling. “I never did it.”

-

Later in the bunker, Jack is sleepless. He would like to sleep this time, because he feels exhausted and hurt. There’s something Aurora said. She said, if he kept people at distance he would never experience love and sex. Even a kiss was a problem already. This view on things was very weird to him. He doesn’t have a problem with kissing or finding out what love is. He just doesn’t want to kiss her. It feels wrong.

She didn’t text him since they departed on unknown terms.

And another thing creeps in his mind. Maybe the problem is that he doesn’t just not like Aurora, maybe he doesn’t like girls at all? And Sam is a man. Maybe he likes men, like Dean does? Dean often talked about women, he seems to like both. Men and women. And Castiel doesn’t even raise a brow when Dean talks about ‘casual sexual encounters’ how Castiel calls them. It’s still unknown territory for Jack. 

There are people who like girls, there are people who like men and people who like both…and what if their body doesn’t matter at all?

Jack doesn’t know where the difference should be, except that a man looks different from a woman. 

The whole sex thing is driving him up the walls. 

He gets up, puts his slippers on and goes to the library. Dean is there, a bottle of whisky in front of him. He doesn’t look deadly drunk, but drunk enough. Sometimes Jack is afraid of Dean when he had too much of this stuff. He can be very mean, aggressive and violent. 

Jack braces himself and joins him at the table. Dean looks up. His green eyes are glassy and his face is red. 

“Can’t sleep, kiddo?”, he asks, wrapping his gown tighter. 

Jack nods.

“No. I was naughty. And now I’m upset.”

Dean’s head jerks up, now Jack has his full attention. The smirk gives it away, Dean will make fun of him for sure.

“Naughty? As in, you finally did sweet lovin’ to her or?”

Jack shakes his eyes, frowning. 

“Now, she wanted to kiss me but I didn’t want to.”

He sighs, sinks back in the chair, looking at the ceiling. There’s silence, Dean just chugs down the rest of the whisky, but he has another already on hand and opens it.

“Need a sip?”

His first instinct is to say ‘no’, but then he agrees and takes a drink directly from the bottle. Whiskey tastes like paste. He hates alcohol and it doesn’t make him drunk. He could drink ten of these bottles and still wouldn't feel a little thing. He knew that Cas also could drink immense amounts and he never feels even dizzy. 

“How do I know if I’m gay?”, he asks and avoids eye contact.

Dean bursts out in laughter. It takes a while for him to calm down again. Jack feels very embarrassed. 

“I shouldn’t have asked”, he murmurs and attempts to get up again but Dean stops him.

“Ey sorry. I’ll give you some advice okay? You will know when a man or a woman drives you crazy. Just, I don’t know. Try it. Get Grindr or whatever, chat with some guys, meet up. And try it.”

Dean’s eyes are really teary now. That was maybe a little too much. 

“Are you okay, Dean?”

“Ya, ‘m fine. No worries.” 

Dean is not okay, but Jack has learned his lesson. Dean will always say it’s okay, there’s no problem, I’m fine. 

Sam is a lot different from him. He’s strong and calm, his hands are so big and his broad shoulders would be perfect to lean on. 

Dean is different. Never at peace, restless. Always on the run from whatever is going on in his head. 

“Is Sam…is Sam gay?”

Jack is shocked by his own words. Dean freezes. And then slowly, very slowly turns to Jack. There’s nothing friendly in his face, it’s a grimace.

“No, he’s not, Jack. Never was. Never will be.”

His heart feels like it’s sinking down to Jack’s groin. It hurts. He gets up.

“I should go to bed. Good night.”

“Sleep tight.”

Tonight Jack cries, hugging his moose plush toy.

*

“Grindr or whatever.”

“Chat with some guys, meet up. And try it.”

Dean’s statements from that night stick with the poor innocent boy. He rolls these thoughts in his head and they roll from one corner to the other, like marbles. He also dips his tongue in them, tastes them. Makes them slide from his teeth down to his throat. But he never swallows them. 

Sam is not gay.

“Never was. Never will be.”

Sam doesn't like men. He doesn’t like boys. And Jack is a boy. Does that mean he has to give up on what he feels? But, what if Jack isn't gay himself? He has no experience. Not with girls, not with boys. He only knows it feels wrong to kiss Aurora. She is one girl of billions. And Sam is just one man of billions.

Maybe, even when Sam is not interested in men, Jack is an exception. He is half angel!

Grindr. Or whatever.

What is Grindr?

Jack didn’t eat this morning, because he  heard Sam and Castiel fighting over something Jack didn’t want to be part of. It was enough to see Dean drink so much, but he wouldn’t participate in any of the tensions that his behaviour caused lately. Dean had told him, he would kill him. Well, maybe he won’t do that anymore now since Jack helped to save the world more than once. He said Jack isn’t family. Maybe he still thinks so. It hurts Jack, because he loves his three father figures and he looks up to Dean. He’s a strong hunter, a leader. He’s the muscle of this team. Sam is the brain. Castiel somehow is the heart. But what is Jack? Always willing to sacrifice himself to make Sam and Cas and Dean love him. 

These thoughts are dark enough and going out there and witnessing another fight wasn’t Jack’s favourite start of the day.

He rather hid in his room after showering. 

Dean has offered him some breadcrumbs like the ones Hansel and Gretel left to find their way back home from the forest. But he needs to go the other way. He doesn’t need to find his way out of the forest and away from the witch’s gingerbread house. Jack wants to find exactly that. 

Wrapped in his towel he sits down on his bed, takes his smartphone and opens a search engine tab. Aurora has texted him but he doesn’t want to reply right now. He feels bad about how he let her down and didn’t kiss her. 

He isn’t sure what he is supposed to search for, he just types grinder. Several online shops appear. Obviously it’s a name for a tool to crush herbs and marijuana. Did Dean mean that? He should grind some herbs and perform a ritual? Nah. Dean was drunk, he surely didn’t think that far.

Next step is to look it up in an online dictionary.

It says a lot of things about molars (pressing together with a rotating motion), grinding as a verb to pulverize material, and then something caught Jack’s eye.

to rotate the hips in an erotic manner

Now, that makes sense in a way, that makes Jack blush deeply. It’s a motion he sometimes imagines when he’s hot and aroused. When his body works up, his cheeks hot and his spine tingly. He imagines sitting on Sam’s lap, both kissing and sighing, and then Jack would...grind. 

Jack has to put the phone away for a second. Thinking of this clouds his judgement. 

After a minute of breathing in and out and trying to tone these thrilling images down Jack is ready to now search for: “Grinder gay men”

The search engine reports “No results for Grinder gay men found. Do you want to search for Grindr gay men instead?”

Jack is irritated about the missing “e”, that’s a typo, right? but he presses the tab ‘yes’.

What pops up now is an article from an online encyclopedia and describes Grindr as a mobile app for gay, bisexual and trans men to chat and meet other men of the same interests. 

The second article is a link to his smartphone’s app store, which Jack opens. 

Dean wanted him to find this app. To meet other men. Try it. Now it all makes sense! Jack is happy about this. Dean wouldn’t be so mean to him after all!

He downloads the app Grindr - Chats, Meeting and Dating for Gays. The app’s icon is black with an orange mask in the middle. Looks plain but also makes Jack curious.

To use the app Jack has to sign up. Since Castiel once has given him permission to sign up in a social network he just thinks it applies to this stuff too. 

There’s a lot of text about privacy, which he just accepts to go further. He signs up with his e-mail address and password. He struggles with his birthday. He tells people he’s 21 years old, which makes his birthday for official purposes May 18th somewhere in the nineties. He has to do some funny verification procedures, the last one is verifying his phone number. 

The app wants him to upload a picture of him, and because he doesn’t have any he just takes one. He doesn’t mind that he's naked except the tiny towel around his waist. The first step is easy. He’s Jack, 21 and looking for Chat, Dates, Meeting up and Friends. He wonders why there’s two options for meeting people. One sounds like it’s for impatient people and the other one is for people who are patient. Like Sam. Sam would be patient. 

He’s now transferred to the next page. And he now sees a lot of other people using the app it seems. A lot of very muscly men are there. They all like to show their body, but Jack doesn’t really like this. Their nudity even makes him feel icky. 

Some men have nicknames like “BigTrunkBear” or “LikeItRough” or “Creamlover”. Jack’s confusion is growing. 

There’s also a lot of men having no photo at all, but how should Jack know how they look? Also the photos of legs irritate him. 

The app notifies him he needs to complete his profile. There’s some multiple choice questions but also dropdown menus and input masks.

It’s easy for him to type a few sentences about himself. 

Jack is as blunt as it could be. 

“Hello, I’m Jack. I like nougat, my fathers and shadow show.”

Age and height are no problem, but he has to google what ethnicity is. His skin is pale, then he must be white. 

Every question after that is confusing to him. He doesn’t know what “position” (Top, Bottom, Vers) he is, is he a “Bear” or a “Twink”? What is all that?

The confusion grows and Jack closes the app for a moment. He thinks about googling all of it. But then his phone chimes and there’s a text message in the app from a man with the nickname “OralPlesaurer”. Which is funny to Jack, because it’s a typo. And no one’s name in real life is OralPleasurer or Creamlover.

Cream is cool, yeah, whipped on pie. But Jack’s not a lover in the sense of the word. Weird people there.

Jack opens the message, it’s a simple “Hi”.

Jack sends a "Hi" back.

What happens then can only be described as…unexpected.

Shinin’ Like A Fiery Beacon

Sam has no suspicions what’s happening in Jack’s mind, but he notices he’s shy around him. Maybe even a little uneasy. The last months have been rough and Sam knows Jack has gone through a lot. Mostly he tried to gain Dean’s trust again, make him and Dean forgive him. But Sam was never mad at him. He couldn’t. 

There is a lot in Jack that reminds Sam of himself and that makes it hard for him to look at the situation objectively. 

Jack was destined to be a weapon for his father, Lucifer. And Lucifer was a special kind of topic for Sam and it has granted him a very twisted satisfaction that Jack helped to kill him off permanently. Three times. Jack’s struggle with his heritage was something Sam totally understands and yes, of course he also understands why Dean is angry and hurt. 

But why does he treat Jack like that still? 

Why is he so determined to stick to his anger and his grief? It doesn't even seem like he is trying to get over it, to forgive Jack. 

There’s something else on Dean’s noggin’ and Sam knows it, even when Dean doesn’t talk about it. The empty whisky bottles, all the sex with nameless strangers and his risky behavior aren’t new to Sam or Cas. 

But that Cas puts up with Dean’s bullshit is astounding. He wouldn’t let that happen. And Sam fights a lot. With Cas. About Dean. With Dean. About Dean. And Cas. And how he treats Jack.

Lately Sam noticed a feeling deep inside of him, flourished for Jack. A gentle, fragile feeling and he didn’t dare to touch this topic. Not even when he was in his room alone at night, rolling around in his bed. It’s a special kind of affection mixed with a frustrating amount of attraction. Sam hates himself for feeling like this. It’s just not right. Jack is nothing like his father, yes, but that's also not the problem. He’s barely 4 years old by now, he came into the world in the body of a young man but little knowledge and childlike naivety. How could Sam take advantage of that? Jack clearly wants to gain his friendship and maybe a platonic kind of love. It’s wrong of Sam to wish for more than that. And that’s why he keeps it hidden and rather tumbles into new fights about Dean’s alcoholism.

It’s his turn to do the cooking today while Cas and Dean are on an investigation and he’s alone with Jack. Sam notices once more that Jack hides in his room a lot, he won’t come out unless Sam calls him to lunch or dinner. Mostly he skips breakfast. So far there’s nothing weird about it, maybe Jack needs some privacy. Sam thinks of his youth with Dean and Dad on the road and how he hated to never be alone. 

Taking ‘long showers’ was always suspicious and a lot of things he and Dean did were blurry to him now in his late thirties. When Sam fled to Stanford and finally had a room for himself, actual locks and actual keys for them, doors he could close...it was better than heaven. That’s when he finally could explore what it meant to be a teenager and deal with the rampaging hormones on his own. Also, he could finally be away from Dean’s hypersexual behavior. Maybe Dean thought it was cool to be like this in front of Sam, especially when they as brothers became a little too close and it was his way to dodge the bullet. 

In the light of his own memories Sam knows what is happening.

And he’s sure Jack’s kind of blossoming at the moment. 

With his super cute and lovely girlfriend, Aurora.

Sam hasn’t met her yet and he has no idea how to react. Of course, he’d be nice and polite and make her dinner and ask her all the nice and polite things for small talk and tell Jack how lucky he is but there’s something primal inside of Sam. Jealousy. He hates being jealous and he has no right to feel that way. One more reason to just let this blooming feeling die and not feed it with anything. 

Not with his weird daydreams or the thoughts at night that keep him bothered and not the moments he’s alone in the shower, rubbing one out. Afterwards he’s just more frustrated, instead of feeling any relief. 

Sam needs another cup of coffee, a strong one. Before Cas and Dean went out, there had been another argument. It was hurtful. Things were said and then taken back, Cas’ puppy eyes all over, Sam's yelling and Dean almost breaking shit. Like always. Maybe after this one they’d calm down, all of them. Dean and Cas were alone for a while, maybe doing some reconciliation. Sam would be happy for them if they could get over whatever was going on. 

In the meantime Sam is just happy with cooking, doing laundry, generally cleaning the bunker and reading. It may sound boring for some people but for him it’s heaven. They’ve had too much going on for fifteen years, some peace is pretty nice and just what he needs right now.

Jack’s an active reader too and he reads the good stuff. Sam educates him about most things he’s comfortable with and he knows he should’ve given the kid ‘The Talk’ already, but Dean kinda started it and Sam is a bit of a chicken regarding this topic. Sex isn’t his favorite thing to talk about. And so far, there seems no reason to rush it, even though Aurora is there. Dean told him about a week ago that Jack has refused to kiss her and if there wasn't anything else going on Sam was unaware of, that was the sexiest thing Jack had achieved so far. A kiss from a girl.

Sam burns his tongue on his coffee because he chugged it too quickly. With a curse he bangs the mug on the table and that’s when Jack walks in. Lately he abandoned his adorable pajamas and wears some of Dean’s and Sam’s old shirts and flannels he grabbed out of the sacks for the clothing drive. That looks wrong in all the right ways, but Sam can’t really say anything about it without letting his guard down. And he won’t let his guard down. Never. 

“Morning, Jack”, Sam utters, trying to cool his tongue with a sip of water. “I didn’t expect you to be up that early. Want some porridge?”

Jack looks up at him and there’s still a sleepy veil surrounding him. He seems to be just woken up. He is wearing one of Sam's old shirts, which is too big for him and the sight makes Sam gulp. A little.

“Yes, sounds good.” Jack sits down and yawns in his hand while Sam gets him some porridge and a cup of coffee with a lot of milk in it. 

Now Sam notices that Jack carries his smartphone with him, which is unusual. Jack mostly uses it for chatting with Aurora or doing some research but he never carries it around like some other teenagers do who are maybe a little too attached to it. It vibrates a couple of times before Jack takes it and mutes all notifications. He looks…guilty?

“What is it? Is Aurora chatty today?”

Jack looks up and puts a spoonful of porridge in his mouth, shaking his head. 

“No, it’s um…it’s nothing.”

Sam is suspicious. Does Jack talk to someone else? Would he need to give him a talk about keeping options open? He doesn’t want to approach the issue by himself, so he rather sits down and eats his breakfast too. Jack seems a bit nervous, always throwing stolen glances at his phone and the screen lights up every couple of minutes. Jack doesn’t reply to any of these messages, he just turns the phone screen down on the table and keeps eating. 

The day goes by, Sam just gets cosy in the library. Dean messaged him it’s a vampire nest and he and Cas will hunt them down tonight. Which is a good sign. Sam also told him to take some time off after it, maybe go to Vegas. Dean hasn’t replied yet. It’s a bit selfish but Sam likes the quiet peace in the bunker. They have thought of moving out a couple times but none of them could really think of somewhere else to live. They were hunters after all and so far they didn’t think about retiring. The bunker was still the core of their family. A home. Dean’s and Sam’s home after years on the road or couchsurfing at Bobby’s, the only home Jack knows. Sam even started to make his room look like an actual bedroom. It had been bare and clinical for years when he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea to settle down with Dean. He thought the bunker would maybe one day be taken away from them again. 

His phone chimes and Dean promises to be back in a couple of days. Couple of days. That could mean they’re back tomorrow or in a week. But he’s happy that Dean takes the chance anyway. 

Sam is totally sucked in by the book he’s reading and he jolts when Jack appears in the library, a hot chocolate in his small hand and a slight disturbed look on his face. 

“Sorry, you scared me a little bit”, Sam says and feels bad about it. 

Jack only smiles and takes a seat across the table.

“It’s okay. Sam, can I ask you some questions? I wanted to ask Dean, but he’s away and not replying to my texts…” 

“Of course. What’s the matter?”

Jack looks up to him, big blue eyes piercings through Sam’s skin. He hates when that happens, Jack has an unsettling effect on Sam. He’s not used to feel like this. 

He squirms in his chair now and then with a sigh, Jack takes the phone out of his pocket to place it in front of him. Okay, so there is something up with the phone. Sam was right about it. 

“How do I know if I’m gay?”

Jack doesn’t look at Sam, he stares at his phone. Sam can see his ears getting red and Jack just blushes so easily… and also very intense. His face is burning red, Sam would bet his ass on it. 

The question itself is nothing Sam would classify as weird. It’s obvious Jack’s going through a phase of finding himself. Contemplating his own sexuality is part of it. Thing is, it makes Sam slightly uncomfortable talking about it. It’s partly because Jack is so young, the other part is that he’s attracted to Jack. Sam didn’t feel attracted to anyone for years and he hates labels. He loves who he loves and he wants to sleep with people he has a strong connection to. And a life as a hunter doesn’t provide much space for a romance to unravel.

How is he supposed to talk about it when he has no idea where to start?

He isn’t a good measure after all.

“Oh, that is as simple as it is complicated”, Sam starts, folding his hands on the table. He takes deep breaths, before he starts to speak. 

“First of all, I can only speak for myself and I don’t know if I'm for much use. In regards of sex you really better ask Dean, but since he doesn’t seem to look at his phone at the moment, I will try.” 

He has already told Jack about making love instead of sex and Sam has thought about his choice of words and regretted some of it. It sounded way too much like purity culture and Jack shouldn’t think sex was bad. Sexual attraction isn’t bad at all.

It just doesn’t fit for Sam.

“Does your question have anything to do with how you feel about Aurora?”

Jack nods. Slowly, a little unsure.

“She wanted to kiss me but I didn’t want to. It didn’t feel right. And I wondered if it has something to do with- I mean- maybe I like boys and not girls?” 

His face is so red by now, Sam could swear he feels the heat radiating from the boy.

“There could be several reasons for it, it doesn’t mean you’re gay. Most people kiss and make love because they’re attracted to each other. Attraction is a very tricky feeling. It feels like butterflies in your stomach, heart pounding, you maybe even feel dizzy. That’s when most people say they’re in love. Do you feel that when you are with Aurora?”

Jack shakes his head.

“No.”

“Then maybe, you’re just not in love with her, and that's okay. You will fall in love with another girl in the future. Or you fall in love with a boy, which is also totally fine. Also you can feel attraction to people who don’t fit in the girl/boy categories. It’s all just about how you feel around them and if you want to kiss them. Or go further.” 

Sam rubs his hands. He really feels uncomfortable educating Jack about love and sex. Now would be a great moment for Dean to show up and take this conversation.

“You know, Dean likes both. Cas is an angel, I don’t think a concept of gender applies to him at all.”

This is when Jack looks up. 

“And what do you like?”

Sam now leans back in his chair, his heart aches a little and he feels heat creeping up his neck. He hates that question.

“Well, Jack…” he sighs heavily, “I don’t care much about gender too. I’m not gay, but I’m not straight either. And I’m also not bisexual, like Dean. It’s hard to say. When I like someone, I like them and I don’t see gender. Boy, girl, queer, it doesn’t matter.”

Now Jack takes a long, careful sip of his hot chocolate. His smartphone chimes again and Sam just has to ask.

“Do you think you’re gay, because you didn’t want to kiss Aurora or is there something else on your mind?”

He knows it’s not his business but he also takes it very seriously to be a good role model, be a father figure to Jack. When Jack needs help, Sam will provide it. Same goes for Cas and sometimes even Dean has his bright moments of fatherhood. 

It’s obvious Jack doesn’t want to answer right away, he looks like he is tasting words in his mouth, rolling them over his tongue, putting them in his cheeks for a moment, before he says something that surprises Sam. 

“There is something else. A man asked me out, but he asked me things I don’t understand.”

Sam stiffens. 

“A man? How old?”

Jack shrugs. 

“Couple years older than Dean maybe?”

Now Sam leans forward, skeptical and on alert. 

“What do you mean, he asked you out? Where? How?”

Jack now shows Sam his phone and Sam recognizes the push messages. The icon is black with an orange mask in the center. 

Oh no, that’s not good. Like absolutely bad.

“On this app. He lives close and he asked me if I like bareback? But I don’t know what he means with that. Does he want to go horse riding with me on a date?”

Sam can’t help but laugh. It’s a diminished, unhappy sound. 

“No, he doesn’t want to go horse riding with you, Jack. He wants to have unprotected sex with you.”

You Got That Medicine I Need

“What do you mean by… that he wants to have unprotected sex with me?”,  Jack asks. 

He was utterly confused about this statement and how Sam came to that conclusion. There’s so much he doesn’t know and so many things he got wrong. Sam also doesn’t help much with his shooting questions and… things like this. Jack furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head. 

“You have to delete this app and stop talking to these creeps.”

Sam looks very upset and Jack doesn’t get why. 

“Answer my question please, what is bareback then? Sam, why do you think he’s a creep? He seems actually nice, he says he likes my eyes and my lips, look!”

He shows his phone again to Sam and he just takes it. Then Sam gets up and starts fumbling on the screen, his eyes narrow. Jack knows this kind of facial expression, he usually sees it when Sam is upset with Dean. Should Jack maybe tell Sam it wasn’t his own idea to install the app? Would that help? Would he then be mad at Dean? But Jack doesn’t want that either, he wants Dean to like him. 

“Jack, it’s gay slang. And this guy”, his voice rises in irritation and suppressed anger, “he looks fishy. Why the hell do you use these apps anyway? You’re with Aurora and… you have no idea about sex yet, casual dating shouldn’t be something you … you like. What is this all about? Jack?”

Jack feels like he’s shrinking to a tiny puddle of shame under Sam’s piercing eyes, his sharp voice and how his chest heaves. He’s also annoyed at the same time. It’s his fathers’ fault he knows so little about sex and how to court people, no one really feels responsible to help him with it, except Dean! Jack looks up to Sam, even when it hurts right now, he hates it so much when Sam is angry. And he feels like he was a dog that took a shit on the carpet and now has to feel utterly guilty for… having essential needs? 

That it’s Sam who tells him to stop makes it even worse. He’s trying to figure out what he feels for Sam, it’s hard enough to see him all day and feel this tickly, hot and cold feeling all over his body and only be able to release it in the silent darkness of his room, quietly moaning and thinking of Sam kissing his tummy and thighs… and even more. Jack feels all the heat building up inside him, it makes his skin crawl and his eyes tear up.

“I want to know if I’m gay or not!”, he says, way louder than intended. “And Dean said it’s a good idea to meet up with men and find out what I like!”

Sam stiffens, chest heaving even harder when he drops his hands and bangs them on the table. 

“Dean told you to install this app?”, he asks. Voice dangerously gentle.

“Yes.”

Jack crosses his arms, defensively. 

And then Sam nudges the smartphone back to Jack. He looks so angry while appearing so calm, apart from his deep breathing. Jack can see the breath vibrate in Sam’s chest and he wishes so badly to lay his head there and hear Sam’s heartbeat, feel his pulse and how his chest moves while breathing. 

Sam’s mouth is a firm little line before he speaks.

“I guess Dean didn’t think his advice through, Jack. This app and many others are made for casual sex and hook ups, and I wouldn’t let you meet any of these guys you’re talking too. You could get hurt”, he then combs through his long hair, fishing for words, “You know that there’s people out there who want harm. It’s too dangerous. Delete it.”

Jack doesn’t attempt to take the phone again, looking at Sam, angry himself.

“No. I need to find out who I am and you keep on handling me with kid gloves!”, he says, voice raised and aggressive. 

This is when Sam slams the table with his fist. “It’s because you are a fucking kid and I don’t want you to be whoring around!”

Wow. 

That feels like a punch in the guts. Jack knows what a whore is. He has googled it after Dean has told ‘whore stories’ at the dinner table when Sam was out with Cas once.

His eyes tear up heavily and there’s a choked sob before Jack grabs his phone and gets up. 

“I’m not a whore, Sam. But good to know you think of me like this.”

Sam's frozen solid for a couple seconds, can’t act on anything but wants to. Jack fumbles on his phone with shaking hands and then shows Sam.

“See, app deleted. No ‘whoring around’ for me.”

And then Jack storms off. Sam calls out after him “Jack, I’m sorry, please come back!” But Jack doesn’t come back. He grabs his jacket and goes outside. He needs some time alone.

*

In the evening, alone in his room, Sam is extremely downhearted. He tried to talk to Jack later, when he came back into the bunker. He even came up to Sam himself to show him the app was still gone, but didn’t talk anymore. Of course Sam apologized every time they saw each other, but Jack didn’t react. 

Damn, he has fucked up so hard this time. And he can’t even lie to himself saying it was just a stupid thing he said. That he didn’t think. Well, he really didn’t think at that moment. There was just … that moment, that hot red moment of possessiveness, of jealousy. And this fata morgana of pure, asexual Jack that Sam could protect and nuture, versus this dark fucked up desire to kiss him, ruin the literal angel. Be the one to show him love. 

To show him how Sam could make him feel, make him come in thousands of ways. Sam’s so touch starved and drawn to Jack and he is so endlessly ashamed of it. It’s not right, he keeps telling himself. It’s wrong to feel attracted to a child. To the child of his rapist. Even Sam cries in bed sometimes, like today. He cries about his stupid words, about how he hurt Jack and how filthy he feels all the time in contrast to the pure and utter arousal picturing the nephil in his bed, sweat covered and hot and willing and moaning Sam’s name when he spills all over his firm stomach. 

Fuck. Holy fuck. This is so bad. 

*

Jack retreated in the forest for a while, listening to angry music on his phone, kicking sticks and stones around till he reached the pond where he just sat down, stared at the glistening surface for an hour or two. He cried a little, too. Sam’s words have hurt him incredibly. Sam is Jack’s role model and the person he wishes to be closest with. And that Sam, especially Sam implies Jack ‘whored’ was so excruciating, that his half human body even threw up the rest of dinner. With his knees pulled to his chest and his face buried in his eyes he cried and cried, before the childlike side in him started rebelling again. Sam has hurt him, but Jack still wants to know what’s wrong with him. Why he feels for Sam, and if it’s because he’s male… or because he’s Sam. 

The feeling hurt even more now, it even hurts now when he’s in bed, staring at the ceiling, still listening to angry yelly music. His body is terribly worked up again, but now Jack reinstalls the app, his profile is still there. He doesn’t know what to do with the old guy who wanted to ‘bareback’ him but he had googled it while staring at the pond and Sam was indeed right. But this old sack wasn’t the only guy Jack was in touch with, there was also Hunter, 25, from Gilead, Kansas. Jack likes the name hunter, because him and his fathers are hunters and hunters are mostly good people. He also likes the name of the city where he’s from, Gilead. It refers to a mystical place in the Bible, which he read a couple times already, but also was the name of the USA in the novel The Handmaid’s Tale by Atwood, which he loved too. And Hunter is nice, very nice and when Sam demanded Jack to delete Grindr, Jack was afraid Hunter would be mad if he didn’t reply to his last message.

But of course Jack wants to reply to Hunter, and there’s two new messages from Hunter which he answers quickly. He gives Hunter his phone number and then decides to delete the app really, just in case Sam wants proof again. Which Jack would maybe deny next time, he is so sick of being treated like a child. Because he’s not. His body is fully developed, and he knows a lot about the world. He knows facts, but it’s hard to find out about all the social stuff. Jack feels alien most of the time, because he has intimidating powers and his angel self works different from his human self. He just has too little experience in human and social interaction and Sam even tries to take away the chances Jack could have to be better at being a human being, which is the side he picked long ago. He wants to be human. Normal. And he wants to be accepted, respected and loved. Not patronised and cared for like a baby. Of course, he knows. He’s defiant and petty but he’s tough and brave enough to learn more about the world and love. 

Aurora isn’t forgotten, he feels bad when he thinks of her, but she also didn’t reply to his last message. Which makes it easier to attach to Hunter, who says in his profile he’s a “vers bottom” (and since no one seems to care about giving Jack a proper talk he googled it and now is indeed in the picture what that means), wants to find true love and relationships. His favourite movies are Star Wars and Lord of the Rings and he likes novels like Lord of the Flies and Fahrenheit 451. He sounds so intelligent and nice, Jack trusts him already after a few days of texting. He seemed able of critical thought and he liked books Jack also liked and they spent a day just talking about religious imagery in The Great Gatsby. But yeah, Jack was totally whoring around. Surely.

Tonight he’s too hurt to let his usual thoughts of Sam go too far, instead he opens his messenger app and he doesn’t have to wait very long after messaging Hunter to get a reply.

Jack smiles when Hunter asks if he is in bed already and what he’s thinking of. Jack texts back he thinks of a certain dark haired, brown eyed man he likes. Hunter looks a bit like Sam and Jack can lie to himself casually here. The texts turn hotter with every turn and Jack’s heart starts pacing, his hand sliding under the seam of his underwear while he reads Hunter’s latest message, describing how he would undress Jack, kiss him and let his hand wander where Jack wasn’t touched by anyone else than himself so far. 

In the morning he feels way better. Hunter’s messages have given him some very nice moments of pleasure but he also feels a little guilty. He hasn’t replied to the hot messages because he’s a total newbie and doesn’t even know what he likes himself. When he told Hunter in the night he’s a virgin, Hunter was very nice and understanding and told Jack he doesn’t have to reply if he feels insecure. 

This sort of validation is something Jack wants to have from Sam but after what Sam said and how deeply it impacted Jack’s trust in him, he tried to let go of this hope. Sam thinks he’s a child. Or a whore. Or both. Jack knows about Nabokov’s Lolita and wonders if Sam thinks he raised him to be seductive to old creeps like the bareback guy. 

One way or the other, Jack is hurt and pissed off, but overall he feels better and steadier today, his ego is petted very thoroughly by Hunter. Maybe one day Jack won’t need Sam’s approval and affection anymore. Seems a nice thought today.

When Jack gets dressed he sneaks up to the kitchen and he can hear from across the floor already Sam is talking to someone. He’s loud, his voice full and usually Jack likes how deep, low and growly Sam can sound when he’s in some kind of situation he’s passionate about, no matter if positive or negative. 

But this sounds like he’s yelling at Dean and that’s never good. 

“Why the actual fuck did you tell Jack to install a gay hook up app, are you out of your rotten mind? He took your word for it and now I am the one who had to clean up this mess!... Yes, he used it and a guy he talked to wanted to meet up and bareback…. Jesus FUCKING Christ Dean that’s not funny-- stop fucking laughing! He could be hurt! You’re such an asshole. I wonder why you fucking hate the kid so much, after all he did for us!... No, I didn’t forget about mom, never will. But you know it wasn’t him. I don’t give a fuck about your feelings right now... Leave the child alone or I swear you’ll regret it!”

A long silence. Jack counts from 50 downwards and stops at 7, when Sam’s voice rises again. 

“Yeah you better. Gimme Cas, I need a word with him.”

Jack has heard enough. “The kid”. “Clean up a mess”. “The child”.

Mary Winchester.

He’s suddenly not hungry anymore and retreats to his room, where his smartphone vibrates the moment he closes the door. It’s Hunter, of course.

Looking To Get Fucked Hard

It takes Jack a day and a half after the phone call to make the first move towards Sam and accepts his apology, which is very well-considered, diplomatic and remorseful. He still feels very hurt by Sam’s words and the fight over the phone with Dean also didn’t help him look over the fact that Sam has a certain edge in his voice when it comes down to explaining ‘adult stuff’ to Jack. Jack, who is naturally curious and eager, but also blunt and innocent, doesn’t quite understand what his problem is. When Jack hears Dean talk about sex with several people, sometimes at once, it doesn’t sound like something he feels ashamed of. He’s even proud of it. 

But Sam is so much more secretive and retreats from any question Jack has from now on. Is sex something bad? And why does he think Jack is acting like a promiscuous person for talking with people online?

It takes another five days in which Jack secretly talks to Hunter over his messenger app and Jack avoids looking at his phone when Sam is around. He doesn’t want to get in another argument again but he also likes the way Hunter makes him feel. Even though Jack is a virgin and inexperienced, Hunter takes him seriously. He treats Jack like an actual adult, with adult needs and adult opinions and an adult body, that is longing for another human’s touch. Jack kind of came to the conclusion that being in love with Sam won’t go anywhere good, not after all the things Sam has said to him. And how he thinks of Jack. As a child, something he has to protect and nourish but for God’s sake don’t touch it. 

Jack doesn’t want protection. He wants to be loved as a man, even though he’s barely a man now. 

Sam’s apology doesn’t change his way of thinking about Jack. 

Damn, why does he have to be in love with Sam, from all people? Maybe it would be even easier with being in love with Dean. Scruffy, grumpy, spiteful, asshole, loyal, troubled, vulnerable Dean?

Is that maybe any better?

But even Dean doesn’t take him seriously as someone who has needs. He gave Jack this damn idea about the app and he probably knew it would cause Jack trouble when Sam found out. 

Over the next days Cas and Dean don’t show up and Sam is worried even when he tries to hide it behind research and angry texts and treating Jack even more than a kid. Makes him his favourite food and drinks, even lets him drink some beer. 

It makes Jack feel even more like someone you need to treat like a timid fawn.

Does nobody see that Jack is no fawn anymore? That he’s ready to grow, that he has intimate, sexual urges. He is prospering for everyone to see, but Sam just squeezes his damn eyes shut and Dean makes fun of him.

And Castiel probably doesn’t even know what it all means because he’s a full grown celestial angel, or an ‘eldritch horror’ as Dean sometimes puts it. 

Time to sow his wild oats.

After a week of absence it seems clear, Cas and Dean are either having a good time or they’re getting lost somewhere in a brothel or a casino or whatever humans do in Las Vegas. Sam doesn’t tell Jack where exactly they are, but Jack thinks they got somewhere to also let off some steam. 

Jack decides to meet with Hunter, after they had some very thrilling conversations at night. It’s mostly that Jack still imagines Sam when he touches himself but Hunter is giving him a lot of things to think about. He doesn’t feel that naive and innocent anymore, now that someone tells him he’s hot, he’s cute, he’s desirable. He is equal. 

No more thinking of ‘down there’s and that kissing is oh so sacred. It’s a change that would scare Jack if he wasn’t so eager to show off to Sam he was mature enough to be treated equally. Hunter presses the right buttons. And all of them at once. 

Jack wants to know how it feels to kiss, to be touched in places, he even wants to touch someone else. And if he keeps telling himself it’s Sam, while he’s with Hunter, he might even enjoy it more. They look so much alike, or at least how Jack thinks Sam looked when he was way younger. Maybe Hunter’s smaller, and what Jack saw from his body wasn’t that defined and muscular, but he can dream. His imagination is going strong. 

His hormones and his contact with another man who shows interest in him make Jack cocky.

They set the date already two days after the fight with Sam and today is the day. Sam and Jack still don’t spend much time together and in the morning Sam announced he will be doing some inventory in a room he was able to unlock with a smell Rowena left him. He told Jack about shelves full with old scripts and mason jars labelled with ‘icky stuff’ and he thinks that in no way the Man of Letters Cuthbert Sinclair would’ve left such a mess and vague labels. Icky could mean a lot. 

Jack doesn’t mind and tells Sam he wants to read The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann.

“That’s a piece of work, Jack”, Sam says, a little proud maybe. “I never made it through it.”

“Well I read some articles about it already and I’m very interested about the portrayal of eroticism, life and death.”

He can’t leave it. He has to tell Sam about the sex stuff he’s interested in. The protagonist of the novel is said to be bisexual and Jack would really like to read it. 

But not today, he will drive to Gilead to meet Hunter, as soon as Sam will drown in his inventory. 

“You also should focus on the motif of time and its correlation with life and death”, Sam says, ignoring the eroticism. He’s unapproachable with the issue at all. It drives Jack up the walls, since his hormones, hurt ego and the cockiness took over his thinking.

“Thrilling.”

Jack means it sarcastically and catches a glance from Sam that he can’t quite ignore. The tension between them grows weirder every day instead of resolving. 

He gets up now, he needs to shower and get ready soon. 

Jack doesn’t know why, but there pops up a thought in his head. About making love.

He wouldn’t do that today. In his nightly thoughts he still couldn’t wrap his head around the difference. 

Of course he’d never admit it, but Jack still knows nothing about love but that he feels something for Sam that comes pretty close.

Sam knows something’s off. That something is still off. Jack is reserved, but sometimes also irritating. Passive aggressive. Mopey. Yes, of course, Sam has apologized as often and honestly as he could but nothing seemed to help Jack and him to find a common ground again. He understands Jack wants to be treated differently, like something he isn’t just yet in Sam’s eyes. It’s his need for being the guardian that doesn’t let him treat Jack like an adult. Let him drink whiskey, watch porn, have sex. The contradiction of his own sexual attraction to Jack and the need for control and guidance drives Sam up the walls too and he has no one he could talk to about it. Dean is distant in his own manner, he’s fled with Cas and after Sam had yelled at him over the phone about letting Jack use this sex app there’s radio silence. Just a quick heads up from Cas now and then. Sam feels like the trip for just the two of them isn’t helping the way he wished for.

This is why he needs to do the damn inventory. Keep himself busy. Think about something else than Jack being a little jerk all of a sudden, Dean’s whiskey consumption and Castiel’s helplessness. Is Castiel even helpless? Or does he just pretend he doesn’t see something is terribly off? Being alone with Jack makes it really rough. Either Jack’s too close, or he’s too reserved, there’s no balance at the moment, and in his mind, it’s also either Jack grinding on his lap or Jack, far away with Aurora or that nasty creep from the app. 

Gladly he’s deleted it and they didn’t need to have a talk about it again. Sam would be furious if Jack lied to him. Furious, because he’s jealous, helpless and sexually gone rogue. 

Why is it so wrong to feel this way? 

In the storage room there’s utter chaos and Sam will probably spend two days in here. Today, he embraces chaos. Chaos is good, because he can break it down and bring it into an order. His order. His system. He even brought instrumental music to have something to drown his own dark, sorrowful and horny thoughts. It will get over soon. He won’t be crossed in love with Jack forever. He can push through this.

But does he really want to?

Sam is so busy with tidying up that weird room that he doesn’t notice anything else is going on. Jack can hear faint flute music across the halls when he sneaks around. He has put on his best shirt, ripped stone washed jeans and a leather jacket that Dean inherited to him. Involuntarily, because he actually wanted to throw it away and like some old shirts, Jack just picked it up and kept it. 

He also did his hair the way Sam said once, it looks good on him. Then maybe Hunter would like it, too?

Jack takes one of the keys for the Volvo in which Sam had taught him to drive. 

Ironic. Sam lets Jack drive, but God forbid he does other adult things!

With the key in his shaking, sweaty hands Jack sneaks off to the carpool garage. The Volvo is purple and has two scratches (long ones) from Jack’s driving lessons, but Jack owns the shame about it now. He unlocks it, gets inside and opens the navigation app on his phone. It says he will be on the road for around 90 minutes, which is okay. He has brought an audiobook, three bottles of water, some protein bars and a charger for his phone. Better to have a fully charged phone, Sam says. Not everything Sam says is bull, even when it feels to Jack like it. He’s gone through a lot of feelings for Sam lately, one of them was anger because he also felt like Sam would patronise him in the most hypocritical way. As if he didn’t try stuff out when he was younger! Dean has told a story or two. But Dean also said Sam’s not gay and that’s not completely true, he found out. Sam is about the person, not gender. So, yes, he’s not gay. But he’s also not straight. If he was just in love with Jack, too. It would be so easy and Jack wouldn’t be so worked up about it.

Jack tries to shoo the thoughts away when he texts Hunter that he’s on his way, but of course he can’t. Sam is always on his mind.

*

If Sam knew he caused a moderately severe teenage rebellion and a sexuality crisis, he probably would’ve never said such bad things to Jack, and he would’ve tried to reconcile even harder. But this way he’s wound up in his inventory distractions, trying to shut the whole issue out. 

Sam jerks up when he hears a noise from the hall. It’s probably just Jack walking around. Maybe the damn Magic Mountain and its discourse about damn eroticism was too much for Jack and he looks for something else to read. Sam sees him with all the heavy stuff actually. He read the Iliad, the Odyssey, the complete works of W. B. Yeats and the baroque geste The Fairie Queene by Edward Spenser in the Middle English original and he wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks. Sam has a hard time reading this epic poem, it’s complicated and he feels like he needs to have graduated in literature or linguistics to make sense of it. The problem is, Sam is maybe smart, but Jack is a fucking genius. Sam hates to admit it but the kid is so smart, he outwits Sam vertiginously.There’s not much Sam can actually teach him but what he can teach he doesn’t want to. Sex for example. But Dean is a shitty substitute and maybe, yeah, maybe Sam should do it. It will be embarrassing and awful but Dean would drag Jack to a fetish club or something and he can’t let that happen. It’s enough that his three father figures all are a bit weird, Jack could end up like a vanilla type of person and do something remotely decent for a change. 

Maybe he should consider giving Jack some sappy romance novel, some light fare. Something that won’t stimulate Jack’s curiosity about the deep endless pits of the human mind, or human sexuel desires. Something that would scratch surfaces but not go too deep. Nora Roberts maybe, but when Sam thinks about it he remembers her novels as repetitive, and not without a problematic approach of gender dynamics, masculinity and love.

Damn. Now he’s thinking about Jack again. 

It will never stop.

Sam considers a break. Just to get himself a sandwich, maybe sit together with Jack and give him another honest and more straight forward talk about how and why Sam is the way he is and why he is so different from Dean. He’s pretty sure he’s given very honest and clear answers to Jack’s questions before they had that stupid fight. Labels really aren’t Sam’s jam, but maybe Jack feels better to know labels and then decides they fit or they don’t. And Jack should know that Sam has been vulgar, unfair and downright wrong with his wording and with patronising him like that. It was not his place to send him to his room like a stubborn kid. He kind of realizes now, that Jack is so much more. He deserves a chance to understand the complex dynamics of human interaction in any kind and Sam should let him.

On his way to the kitchen he hears even more clanking of plates, a running coffee maker and sizzling. It smells like steak. 

This is weird. Jack doesn’t like coffee. Jack also doesn’t know how to make a steak, that’s Dean’s thing.

Dean’s thing.

Oh no. Sam hurries to the kitchen, before Jack maybe sets something on fire and when he appears in the doorframe, calling out for Jack a very confused Castiel and Dean are in the kitchen, Dean almost drops the hot pan. Cas jerks in surprise and burns his hand with hot coffee.

“Jesus Fuck, Sam! You scared the living shit outta me!” Dean exclaims, looking confused. 

Cas wipes his burnt hand clean of the spilled hot coffee.

“Why are you here?”, Cas asks and looks at Sam. 

Sam is just as confused as they are at that point.

“Better question is, why are you two here? I thought it was Jack in the kitchen.”

He doesn’t even have time to be relieved about seeing Dean in good condition. He really looks good and relaxed. But at his brothers’ question he raises his eyebrows and turns off the stove. 

“I, uh, actually sent you a message a couple hours ago we’re comin’ home Sammy. Enough Vegas. You didn’t reply and then when we parked Baby in the garage, the Volvo wasn’t there. That’s why we” - Dean gestures to Cas - “deduced you and Jack are maybe going somewhere and you didn’t check your messages.”

Sam’s confusion grows. “No, we didn’t go anywhere. I unlocked a secret storage room right on the way down to the pool areas and I’m doing inventory. Jack is in his room. He reads some old dusty Thomas Mann novel, because he’s into phalluses all of a sudden.”

Dean coos a laugh and Castiel clears his throat. Then all three get a glimpse on the fact that something may be wrong here.

“Well, if we’re all here, who took the Volvo?”, Cas asks, silently healing his burn.

Sam could swear Dean mumbles a “son of a bitch” under his breath before he says: “Well, not everyone is here. We should look for Jack.”

Jack isn’t in his room. His shoes and his shoulder bag are gone. The Volvo keys are missing. The situation is pretty clear. Jack has gone somewhere and didn’t tell Sam.

Son of a bitch.

Screwed Up, Scared, Doing Anything That I Needed

The date doesn’t quite go as Jack imagined it to go. Hunter is indeed the man he texted with, but he’s only ever seen the chest or his face and now Hunter looks distinctively older than he claimed on Grindr to be. Jack is too shy to ask him about it, he feels like it’s maybe rude. Hunter has used an old photo on Grindr, that’s for sure. They sat down in a bar anyway, it’s fall and it’s dawning already. Hunter offers to buy Jack drinks and given the fact Jack wouldn’t get drunk he accepts. 

But Hunter seems weird. The conversation stops a couple of times and he asks a lot about Jack’s love life, but Hunter knows already, he’s inexperienced, right?

After an hour and two cocktails Jack retreats to the toilet to wash off the weird feeling he has. Hunter is nice to him, there’s no reason for him to be more suspicious. Maybe Hunter was just embarrassed because he’s lost some hair already, and the started balding on the back of his head. When Jack turns around, he gets stuck at the restroom’s stalls door and his phone nosedives in the sink where the water is still running.

“Oh shoot!”, Jack cries out. That can’t be real right now!

He tries to dry off the phone best as he can but he knows it will be best to turn it off and put it in rice. He has no idea about how to get home though and he kind of wants to go home soon. There’s no connection to Hunter as he wished there would be. 

Back in the bar Hunter awaits him with what he calls a Gin Tonic. Jack chugs it down and he doesn’t like the taste at all.

“Oh you can take a lot!”, Hunter says and Jack gets the idea that he isn’t amused about how much Jack can drink. 

“Yes, I umm, maybe it’s my very fresh liver”, Jack says, but he doesn’t go any further.

“Look, Hunter. You are a nice person, but I don’t feel a real connection. I’m very sorry”, Jack says, being very guilty of wasting the man’s time. 

Hunter shrugs it off. “Don’t worry about it, Jack, we just wanted to meet and find out, right? But would you be so kind and ask the barista for his number for me? He seems to be flirting but I’m shy, as you may have … noticed.” 

Jack is a bit irritated, but he wants to do the man a favor and agrees. “I wanted to order a coke anyway”, Jack says, getting up. “Do you want something more?”

The older man just gives him a crooked smile. 

“Nah, I’m good, champ.”

Champ. Who says champ?

Jack goes over to the bar where the barista (tall, handsome, eyeliner and old school tattoos, maybe as old as Jack passes with). As innocent as he still is in his rebellion he asks him about his name and number.

“Who do you want that for?”, the barista asks him, pouring him a glass of coke.

Jack hates lying, that’s why he points over to Hunter with his thumb. 

“My date over there.”

The barista huffs and shakes his head.

“No, but if you want my number I’ll give it to you.”

Jack declines.

“That is very nice of you, but I’m already in love with someone and I think I won’t be with anyone else very soon.”

“I’m Baz, if you change your mind”, that’s when the barista gives him a slip of paper with his instagram URL on it. 

“Thank you, Baz”, Jack smiles at him and waves when he takes the coke in his hands and goes back to Hunter. 

He’s on the phone, texting someone and Jack just remembers he maybe needs to get a phone call or some maps print to find his way home. His phone shouldn’t be turned on again and he should maybe call Sam to pick him up. That’s really a dumb situation he’s in. Hunter doesn’t look up at first but eventually does and Jack sits down.

“I’m sorry, he’s not interested”, Jack says and takes a sip of his coke. 

Hunter sighs but he kind of doesn’t look all too disappointed. “Thanks for the effort though.”

“Hunter, I have a little problem, my phone got wet in the restroom and I need to print a map or call my dad to fetch me here.”

That’s something he seems to like hearing and Hunter relaxes. 

“Not a problem, you can come home with me, it’s not far. You can use my printer if you like and I can give you a bag and some rice to put your phone in. It’s no big deal.”

Jack sighs in relief and relaxes a bit. It’s dark outside already, the kind of darkness, that’s not all consuming, but creepy enough. Jack doesn’t like being outside alone for too long and he’s glad Hunter is willing to help.

He wants to pay for himself, this is why Jack gets up and pays his drinks at the register. When he’s back he exes his coke, that tastes strangely bitter this time and maybe it’s just some residual from the cleaning agent. Hunter smiles and gets up too to pay. Jack buttons up his jacket and they leave the bar together. 

The air is crisp and there’s a hint of rain. Jack can taste the drops already. 

The walk is a little longer than expected and when they arrive at the house, Jack finally gets suspicious. Hunter claims to live on the second floor, and there’s light in two of the rooms. Did he leave his lights on? That is wasting resources and Sam doesn’t like it when Jack would leave the lights on. 

Jack doesn’t give it any more thoughts. Somehow Jack feels a bit icky now, there’s a bitter taste in his mouth and his sight is getting a tiny bit blurry, frayed on the edges. Hunter lets him in. 

“If you like, you can wait here for a second, I uh, I think I didn’t tidy up very well, I didn’t think we’d come home”, Hunter says, giving Jack a crooked smile. The apartment is tiny, the fitted kitchen just has a small fridge and two hot plates. There’s a microwave and an electric kettle, a toaster and a coffee maker. All in all it looks tidy, but worn, the wallpaper of the corridor looks yellow-ish and it smells of cigarettes. Jack doesn’t like it when people smoke and he’s glad none of his dads do so. Hunter hurries to a door that maybe leads to the living room and sleeping room. Jack has very good senses and he doesn’t feel like he’s alone. There’s footsteps and breathing and the smell of something clinical. 

Jack needs to lean against the counter of the kitchen unit and close his eyes. He feels uneasy, something is wrong and he knows he should go. His body feels heavy and his thoughts delay.

And that’s when Jack can hear another man as clear as a bell saying something to Hunter.

“Dude, why did you bring him here? He’s still conscious!”

Then Hunter.

“I had no choice, I gave him the whole bottle. That shit could kill an elephant but he’s still walking straight. I had no idea what to do!”

“You fucking retard!”

This is so loud now, Jack would even hear it if the men didn’t whisper. Jack knows he should react much faster but he feels like he’s walking through water when he reaches for the door and opens it.

And what he sees is nothing he expected.

Jack’s phone is dead.

“What do we do now?”

Sam is clearly panicking and Dean is moderately concerned now, too. Cas kind of holds his shit together, but he also worries. 

The angel also is the one to make first assumptions. 

“Every of our cars has a GPS tracker, right? We can find him like this, we just have to consult the app.”

Sometimes it sounds like Cas thinks there’s a breathing person on the other end of the line looking the GPS signal up for him, but neither Sam or Dean really bother to make fun of him for a change. 

“This is my fault.”

Sam of course blames himself. He has been unfair to Jack, he even insulted him. Something that Sam would never do. If he was still a bit sane, but he seems like his feelings for Jack just turn him inside out. But then he looks at Dean, who really makes a guilty face right now and Sam has an idea.

“No, actually it’s your fault, Dean. You told him about the damn app. We had a fight about it and a couple days later he sneaks out? He must’ve kept contact with someone.”

Dean frowns and crosses his arms, defensively. 

“Well I didn’t expect him to pull it off, I mean the boy is clearly in love with you, Sam. I thought that would help him enough through his identity crisis.”

Sam just ignores Dean’s suggestion, Jack would be in love with Sam. Sam would know that, right? He would notice, if Jack was seeking his attention? And given the nature of their relationship that would be absolutely inappropriate.

As inappropriate as his own feelings for Jack.

“Stop making fun of him, I swear, I’ll strangle you myself if something happened to him.”

“Whatever.” Dean says and shrugs. “I know I’m right about that. You should’ve just, dunno, give him a hand or so.”

“You’re unbelievable!”

Before Sam could really reach out and knock his brother unconscious, Castiel interferes. Physically and vocally.

“Sam, Dean. This isn’t helping. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is that Jack is gone, we need to find him. The GPS app says the car is parked in Gilead, Kansas. That’s about an hour and a half away from here. I turned on angel radio, but Jack isn’t responding. Something has happened. We need to go. I’ll zap us to the car and from there, I can maybe sense him. We have no time for rituals. Let’s hope, he’s okay.”

Sam feels like he is about to collapse and cry his heart out. Jack is out there and maybe he’s in danger. 

Life Imitates Art

What is irritating Jack the most isn’t the camera on a tripod in front of the bed. It’s also not the three strange guys surrounding the bed or Hunter’s surprised and frightened face. It is the tarp spread over the mattress. A black shiny huge tarp and Jack doesn’t have a single idea why it should be there. His vision shifts slightly and there’s a distant ringing in his ears. 

“What is..?” Jack wants to ask but the sentence won’t leave his mouth completely. 

Of course, even he gets now he’s been tricked into something. He’s been so incredibly stupid.

“Come on, boy, just relax”, one of the men says and Jack recognizes the voice. 

It’s the one who called Hunter a retard and complained about Jack still being conscious. That’s why the coke tasted like soap. Hunter tried to drug him!

The man comes closer now, Jack smells his sharp and heavy aftershave and his head is spinning. Gladly, Jack is half angel and the drugs didn’t knock him out. That’s why Hunter gave him too much it seems. He isn’t going to faint or something but Jack is clearly handicapped and when a second guy also comes closing in Jack looks for a way out, but Hunter behind him locks the door. He looks around, panicking, but all he sees is an XXL bottle of massage oil and sex toys. Oh holy shit.

“Don’t come near me!”, Jack says, retreating, but nudging Hunter with his back and Hunter grips his arms. “Don’t touch me!”

Jack knows how it is to be afraid, but this is a whole new level of fear. He fears for what these men will do to him if he doesn’t manage to get out. The familiar sensation of his powers start tickling. First in his stomach, then his arms and then a piercing pain behind his eyes.

“I said, don’t touch me!”

The men won’t stop but one of them is looking at him like he’s a ghost.

“What is happening with his eyes?”, he yells. “Shit, something’s wrong with his eyes!”

This must be the moment Jack’s eyes start glowing golden, like they do when Jack is in a state of emotional distress and he does good so. Because the next thing Jack feels is like his chest is erupting. 

“No one touches me!”

And then the world turns red.

Castiel drags Sam and Dean across the city, all three of them panicking. The Volvo is abandoned, parked in the city but no sign of Jack. They have no idea where to look first and Cas’ doesn’t receive any signal from Jack, and, well, you can see he’s trying very hard to get even a tiny bit of information.

Dean and Sam are still yelling at each other, like that’s helping anyone right now! But Cas is too focused, too worried to care about the mortals fighting like children. 

When Jack’s powers surface, Cas can hear Jack’s enochian voice in his head and it’s shrill, it’s blinding but he knows exactly where they have to go now. He grabs each Winchester and says, following Jack’s call “Shut up, you two. I got him!”

Jack feels dizzy and sick, and he vomits all over the floor. It’s coke and alcohol, gastric acid and the drug Hunter gave him. Everything’s coming out in spurts and Jack is happy to get rid of the poison. The dust in the room settles, three bodies are scattered around him, all of them still breathing but bleeding but one of them, the fourth is crawling towards the door. Jack wants to stop him, because he thinks the man might hurt another boy just like this and he can’t let him get away with it, but his human body is cramping and throwing up bitter fluids. 

The man wails when Sam shows up out of nowhere, sided by Cas and Dean. Jack sees them through a veil of tears, but he can’t get up, all he can do for now is whimper. There’s distant grunts and yelling, hectic moving. Cas helps him sit up and his warm healing light helps Jack regain some conscience. 

“They’re all blacked out”, Jack hears Dean say. “God damn, look at this, Sam. Camera, bed, latex bed sheets, dildos, lube….”

“Gang rape”, Sam just says and Jack can hear his voice shake with anger. 

Then - sounds of plates clashing on the floor and Sam yelling at Dean. And then yelling at Jack who’s still held by Cas to be healed. 

“For fuck’s sake, Jack! What did you do?!”

“We need to leave”, Cas says, “we can’t stay, the eruption didn’t happen unheard. Police will be here soon.”

“Sam?”, Jack moans. “Sam?”

Sam crouches in front of Jack and places his hand on Jack’s cheek. There’s no smile in Sam’s face, which Jack would die for. There’s disappointment and anger. So much anger. 

“I didn’t mean to…”

Jack regains his strength and gets up. “I’m okay, Cas. I can walk.”

It’s no difference if Jack wanted it or not, it happened. He has almost been assaulted and videotaped because he trusted the wrong person. Because he wanted to show Sam he’s an adult, he can make his own decisions. He’s mature enough to date. 

The bitter truth is, that Jack was just a brat and it almost cost him something important. His innocence.

On the way home, Jack and Sam don’t talk much. Dean and Cas zapped back home, but they needed to get the car away from the parking lot and Jack doesn’t want to be zapped, he still feels sick. It’s not only because he threw up all of his meals and drinks today or that he used his powers to defend himself. It was the look on Sam’s face that was utterly sickening. Jack could live with Sam yelling at him again, even calling him a whore or whatever. Call him stupid, childish, bratty, cocky. But the silence is gnawing on Jack’s nerves like a hungry rat. But there’s not much he can say, because if he just told Sam what’s gotten into him he would maybe spill he’s in love with Sam. That he wanted to know what is going on with his body and mind and why he desires Sam of all people on this planet … that Jack wanted to know how it feels to be taken seriously by someone who desires Jack. And if there was a way to forget about Sam with someone else. It didn’t work with Aurora, hell it didn’t work with Hunter. 

Jack wonders if he’ll just be in this state forever. Seeing Sam and immediately daydreaming of his big, strong hands all over Jack’s body. 

Sam doesn’t talk to him for the whole ride except necessities, he doesn’t talk much when they’re home. There’s another very nasty fight between all three of his dads, when they think Jack is already asleep. Cas looked after him half of the night, helped him shower, brought him sandwiches, water and anti nausea pills. He even attempts to talk about what happened but Jack just can’t. Not yet. Not with Cas. How could a seraph, a celestial being, understand Jack’s human nature? And his failures? He tries and Jack is happy about it. He apologizes to Cas more than once but Cas just says, it’s okay, it happens, we all make mistakes. 

But the yelling of Sam and Dean is deafening.

Sam accuses Dean of getting Jack willfully in danger. Dean yelling at Sam for being a fucking coward. A hypocrite, a prude. A liar. 

Dean is a drinker, an asshole, a narcissist, relationally disturbed and overall a bad person. 

If you believe what they say to each other, which Jack doesn’t. 

He doesn’t know what or whom to believe these days.

It takes Dean two days to come up to Jack and apologize. There’s a lot of words being said, all saying the same. That Dean was a prick for saying that, he didn’t mean Jack to get in danger. And somehow Jack thinks, no, he didn’t want Jack to get hurt. He wanted to teach Jack a lesson, whatever that lesson was. Jack wasn’t getting behind it and Dean just manipulates sometimes. He maybe knows the answer and Jack would’ve done a lot to be able to read minds. He could also make all of them stop lying again, but the last time ended in so much chaos… Jack better doesn’t act up at all these days. He’s just happy his fathers found him on time. 

Put Your Hands On My Waist, Do It Softly

It takes Jack three nights to finally go up to Sam’s room and knock. He knows Sam is awake, he may not be able to read minds, but he senses Sam’s distress. 

“Yeah?”, Sam calls.

“Sam, uh, it’s me, Jack. Can I come in?”

A loud sigh, creaking of the bed. 

“Sure. Come in.”

Jack feels like the damn newborn fawn he didn’t want to be mistaken for in this moment when he worms into Sam’s room and closes the door behind him. Sam is in his shorts only, Jack in his pajamas, but when Jack is honest, he didn’t sleep a single minute since they got back to the bunker. He is afraid of the dark and the loneliness and he misses Sam around him so damn much, he cries until his eyes burn and his face is swollen. 

“Sam, I wanted to say, … I am sorry, I shouldn’t have lied to you about the app. I shouldn’t have snuck out to meet a shady guy so far away. I’m really sorry.”

Sam looks up. 

“Jack, what you did was stupid, rash and irresponsible but I’m not the one you should apologize to. I should apologize to you, but all of this won’t make it undone, you know?”

He tears up again when he sees the hurt look on Sam’s face.

“Look, I know I was mean to you and I was overprotective, rude and I didn’t even tell you why I’m not telling you everything about love and sex you want and need to hear. I should have because I’m your caretaker and I should’ve known better. I don’t blame you even half as much as I blame myself.”

At first Jack wants to protest, but Sam is right. There’s been mistakes on both sides with a hint of Dean spicing things up. 

“Can I sit down?”, Jack then asks, still standing in the corner at the door. 

Sam gets up and puts his laundry away from the only available seat. Except his bed. 

Jack sits down, rubbing his face and squeezing his legs together. Damn tears. He even has a headache. 

“I wanted to understand”, Jack mumbles, looking down at his lap. “Why I feel certain things for certain people-”, he looks up, Sam’s face is still a stiff grimace, “... why is it all so confusing?”

“Love?”, Sam asks.

“Yes, love. Sex. All of it.”

There’s a minute of nerve wracking silence, before Jack has the guts to say it.

“I only ever wanted to know how it is with you.”

It’s so quiet now, Jack imagines he could hear a pin drop at the gas station out of Lebanon. He knows he dropped a bomb right here, but he overheard another fight with Dean calling Sam a hypocrite -again- and ‘having the hots for the kid’. Apart from being called a damn kid again, Jack checked what that means. Having the hots. And well, yeah, Jack himself has the hots for Sam and he doesn’t want to live with the uncertainty anymore. He won’t meet anyone else he wants to be with, not in a very long time and if Sam doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, he can still try to move on. But there’s no moving on in a vacuum. Like now.

“Dean is right?”, Jack asks carefully, his voice is thin.

“Dean is right”, Sam finally admits and buries his face in his hands. “But it doesn’t mean it’s right. You know?”

“I know.”

Another second passes.

“No, actually I don’t know, Sam. I don’t think it’s wrong. You said you’d never judge. But why did you do so when I needed your approval the most?”

Sam looks helpless, wringing his hands. 

“Because I was jealous and I shouldn’t be.”

“I would’ve liked your jealousy more than being insulted by you.”

It’s visible how uncomfortable Sam is, he’s fighting emotions. Jack is, too. But he’s crying already. What happened to Jack was terrifying, but what he really, truly fears is Sam’s rejection.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Stop being sorry and start being honest with me… Don’t you think I deserve it now? I know I’ve changed very radically. I used to go to town in my damn pajamas. That’s barely four weeks ago and it feels like years already.”

Sam smiles now. Even a little sad.

“Yes, it was actually very adorable. Seeing you like this.”

“I’m not adorable anymore. I’m not that naive anymore. Why can’t you just… see me like Dean sees Cas?”

“That’s a very bad example and you know it.”

Now Jack laughs and wipes away some cold tears from his face. 

“And I already see you like this, Jack. But I feel guilty for it. I’m here to keep you safe. I want to be the person you turn to when you’re lost, I want to guide you, but also be the person that’s your safe haven. Can I do that when we… Jack, when we get together, our relationship will change. We will get to know each other in ways that might scare you. Or even scare me. I’m afraid of that. And if I’m afraid, you should be, too.”

When Jack gets up and sits beside Sam on the bed, without asking first -- it feels like a very bold move for Jack. He likes being close to Sam and feeling his body radiate warmth and safety but also desire and a pull that’s hard to resist, Jack knows it’s the right thing.

“I’m not afraid. I’ve been afraid in Gilead, but when I’m with you, I know nothing bad will ever happen to me.”

Sam’s face yells OBJECTIONS but Jack ignores it.

Jack leans on Sam’s shoulder, the touch feels electrifying and at first, Sam stiffens, but then relaxes and puts his hand around Jack’s shoulders.

“I’m not afraid”, Jack says again. 

Sam nuzzles his nose against Jack’s hair and kisses him right behind his ear. Jack feels violent hot shudders all over and that is the most intense thing he’s ever felt for anyone.

“It feels good”, he mumbles, turning his face to Sam. 

Sam is close, incredibly close and despite the hot shudders Jack gets goosebumps all over. It feels like that one time he had fevers, when he was dying, but in a good way. The best possible way. 

Jack doesn’t receive a kiss on his lips, as he wished for, Sam kisses his cheek and his jaw. Just slightly. But to Jack it feels like he’s a dying sun out there in the universe and he’s being eaten up by heat and flares of light. 

And then Sam’s hand reaches for Jack’s.

“I still need time…”, he whispers, “we both need some time. To be sure.”

“I’m very sure.”

“Give it a minute”, Sam says, hot breath lingering over Jack’s face. “Just a minute…”

Even Sam can’t wait the damn minute before he kisses Jack. Gentle and soft like a hummingbird.

"This is Heaven, what I truly want."

[babbushka]

Babs I have a question!! Does your Flip grow up Jewish or does he sort of throw himself into the culture after the events of blackkklansman like when he has that talk with ron about how it wasn’t really brought up when he was little, I guess like finding and embracing that part of his identity?

Hello my dear anon! Oh how funny, today is Yom Kippur (don’t tell G-d i’m using the computer), so you’ve got good timing with this question, lol. 

This is a question I get a lot, or rather at least a point that people bring up to me a lot, and I’m going to do my best to answer lol but this might get long so please bear with me. 

My interpretation of Flip, both in the personal AU and in any writing that I make, is that he was raised Jewish, but not raised practicing Judaism. Given the time that these events take place, Flip was a toddler during WW2. It’s not too out there to assume that when his parents saw what was happening to Jewish people in the war, they decided to raise Flip as “””normal””” as possible so he wouldn’t be a target for antisemitism. A lot of parents did so, and still do so today, because of the alarming rate of hate crimes and bigotry against Jewish people. 

Except, just because you decide not to raise your child practicing Judaism, that doesn’t mean that they aren’t Jewish. Jewishness is an ethno-religion, which is something that has been forged out of millennia of oppression. That is to say, Jewishness is something that is literally in our blood, it is literally part of our genetic makeup, because for so many years, Jewish people have had to stay together in order to survive. 

And because of that, Jewish people have a Jewish identity that cannot be denied regardless of whether they practice or not. It’s our culture, it’s our heritage. It’s the way we talk, the way we think, how we communicate with one another, the food we eat, the music we listen to, the way we dance. It’s not as easy as “well I don’t go to Temple and therefore I am not Jewish” when you have generational trauma and evolutionary fear that is literally passed down your DNA.

And that’s a hard thing to wrap your mind around if you’re not Jewish, the difference between Jewishness and Judaism. The former is the heritage and culture that we are raised in, that we cannot separate from ourselves no matter how hard one may try. The latter is the religious teachings and doctrine that Jewish people follow.

This is why in the film, one of the things that made me fall in love with Flip in the first place, is in fact that speech. Because it’s something that’s so intrinsically Jewish -- that inner conflict and guilt over being “too much and not enough at the same time.” Too Jewish for goyim, but not Jewish enough for practicing Jews. Being raised outside the faith, but still being forever tied to your heritage. 

He has that whole speech about how he never had a bar mitzvah, how he never thought about it much, how he was just another white kid, because to him, or to anyone who grows up assimilated, it feels like the only way someone can be Really Jewish is if they practice Judaism. So since he wasn’t raised practicing the religion, then he must not be a Jew. 

Which just, isn’t true, and that’s something that he learns, over the course of the film. 

All of this is to say, I do interpret him to more fully embrace his identity after the events of the film. I do interpret him to be more authentically himself. Maybe he doesn’t immediately go start sitting in Temple, lol, but there is no denying that he is Jewish, and he stops pretending to be something he’s not. He stops hiding behind being able to pass for a WASP, and instead starts living as his most true self. 

And frankly, that’s really the only interpretation of Flip that I can get behind. When people write Flip with excessively Christian or Catholic themes and imagery, when people write him celebrating Christmas or they never ever mention anything about his Jewishness/just pretend it doesn’t exist, it’s just antisemitic. It just is. It’s erasing someone’s stated identity, an identity that is so often erased or ignored, for the comfort and ease of other people. 

I love my Flip. I love canon Flip. I love this big, grouchy, grumbling, sarcastic, deadpan, chain smoking, Jew. 

TLDR; In the personal AU just like in canon, I interpret Flip to have been raised Jewish but not practicing Judaism, and then when we meet one another, he starts practicing (because I do look so pretty when I get all dressed up for Temple), and after the events of the film, he only becomes more serious about it :) 

[pumpkins-s]

(1/2) Hi! I just came here from SLAOS to say that your story is so, so awesome and I saw that part of your trouble with continuing is the association with VLD. Have you ever thought about turning it into something original? It might sound daunting if you've never done that before, but it's not that bad - it's something I've done a few times (though I've never written anything as good as SLAOS!). I could even help you, if you have an outline or something?

Hey!! Thank you for this Ask--it’s always a little startling but so nice to get these occasional reminders people still read (and reread) and enjoy SLAOS. The enthusiasm for this fic has always bowled me over and even years on continues to do so.

In answer to your actual question...I’m afraid my answer might get a little complicated, so forgive me for that, but it opens the door for a lot of things I have previously and continue to think about in regards to SLAOS, and in such a direct context I can’t help but address them.

This might get a little lengthy, so for sanity’s sake, I’ve put it under a cut.

I’ve certainly thought in the past about reworking SLAOS into something original. And writing original work on its face isn’t necessarily something I’m concerned about. I’m an MFA in Writing student. I do that.

I do have concerns regarding SLAOS specifically, though, that make me very hesitant to ever consider adapting it to an original work without significant changes. These are very separate from my original problems with VLD and its fandom nightmares. It’s true that the main, original, reason I stopped working on SLAOS is because of VLD. However, since then, my reasons for not finishing this fic have changed somewhat. I’ve had enough time away from VLD that I think I am capable of going “fuck canon, my city now,” and finishing this fic purely out of love for it, my characters, and the dedicated fans it has. As I’ve always said, the utter love people have for this fic has always moved me--it has helped me heal in many ways I cannot begin to explain and further encouraged me to pursue my dreams of being an original novelist. 

So, my main issue here is not about VLD and its bullshit. There’s a number of other factors influencing my considerations on finishing this fic, such as time and what fics I should prioritize, but I wouldn’t say even any of these are a deciding factor on finishing SLAOS.

For me, it’s a question on whether it is a smart, prudent, or even ethical decision to make in finishing SLAOS. 

Let me say this: I love SLAOS. I love it with my whole heart. Lance and his family kept me company in very dark times, and a lot of it came from very personal places about my own gender struggles, family conflicts, and struggles to find places I belonged. 

But I often question as to whether I should have ever written SLAOS.

Certainly, as a 21yr old, I do not think it is a fic I would start now. But I was 17 at the time, and my perspectives and the amount of forethought I put into my work have changed. 

When I started SLAOS, I had very little plans going in. I loved Lance, I loved angst, I have a known propensity in my work for family drama and death, and I wanted to write Lance the kind of complex, perhaps sometimes tragic backstory I felt he deserved as much as, say, Keith or Pidge, who got that in canon. So, I crafted a tale about a youngest child raised largely by his sister, who is gender nonconforming and free spirited, and who then loses his sister and must learn to live in a world without her--and without his childhood innocence. He grows up, he learns when he must conform to achieve his goals and when he will stand his ground, he learns about the complications in his own family he didn’t see when he was younger, he forms new relationships and tries to work through a grief that never leaves him. 

On the surface, I don’t think any of this is bad. In fact, it sounds like a pretty good story to read or to write. Continuing on, though, the complications form. 

I’m not cuban or cuban-american, and I’m not latinx, and Lance and his family are. I am nonbinary, queer, half-jewish, and the child of immigrants, and all of that absolutely influenced the writing of SLAOS when digging into my personal and family history (even Lance being a youngest child raised primarily by an older sister was inspired by my own grandfather--who was the youngest of 10 children and was raised by his sister)--as too did my childhood in a largely-latinx area of Southern California, and the latinx friends I had and have, influence the story. A lot of it came from very real places experienced, felt, and seen--and what was pure fiction was just that. Innocent fiction written out of improvisation and love for that character.

However, in making Lance and his family less economically-stable, and similar things in the story, I perhaps inevitably wrote into stereotypes about latinx families I’m now more cognizant of. These may be stereotypes that come from many realities, and from many people I have known, but that doesn’t deny they’re stereotypes. Writing a stereotype is not inherently a bad thing, of course, but it does become more sticky when you’re not of that exact minority demographic. I didn’t write into that stereotype intentionally--my logic as best as I can remember was “I want Lance to have a complex backstory. Lance’s family is canonically big. I love big families who are emotionally close--they should all live in one house. Hm, they maybe have financial struggles”--but that doesn’t make it any less there.

I can point to other flaws in the work. The other perhaps questionable improv decision to make Lance’s father a gambler and then kill him off, even if that was pretty much just done on the logic of “oh god I don’t want to write about fathers. I have a shit relationship to my father. Fuck. Shit. I’ll kill him off there” is another sticky issue for me. Ritzie’s introduction scene has...issues, to say the least, as well. These may be scenes and plot points people don’t find issue with, haven’t considered in that light before, or even find me silly for worrying over now, but I am famously hyper-critical of my own work. I can’t help but worry and think often on how to be the best writer I can be, and with the most empathy.

There’s a lot of recent and ongoing discussion about who is allowed to write what stories. Certainly, I don’t subscribe to every opinion just because it’s been argued by someone or other--for example, I’m semi-critical of the concept that one can only write narrators and main characters of their own exact identities, particularly and especially if your work is removed from a plot or major content that deals with that identity. But being critical of some opinions does not mean that the overall thinking on “am I a good person to write this kind of story” is bad.

I don’t question that I was the only person who could have created the McClains exactly as they are in my story. They are mine, my characters, and that is intrinsic to me and who I am as a writer. But, I do question whether I was the best person to write that exact narrative, and whether I should have at least made different choices about some of the McClain’s circumstances and their world. SLAOS isn’t a story about race or wealth, but I cannot deny that those factors are present in the story, perhaps more heavily than others I have written.

In short, if I was a novelist conceptualizing this story now as an original piece of work, I do not think I would feel comfortable writing it. I would be concerned about the optics and the potential harm I could cause, to say the least. So, the only original adaption of SLAOS I can see myself ever writing would likely have to be different in many ways.

As it is, I am cautious of any original adaption or thoughts of adaption of SLAOS, at least at the moment--even if it was only released online and never published in any official manner. 

As for finishing the fanfic.. I still have remaining concerns. It is one thing to say I wrote this fic in good faith at 17, it is another to say I made the conscious decision to finish it at 21. Even if my concerns are seen as hyperbolic, I never know what the future will bring, and I don’t need the heat and I don’t need discourse. It’s in the past now. If I finish it, I make it my present. 

This isn’t me saying hands-down I will never finish SLAOS. I certainly know what I wanted to do with the rest of the fic, and I loved the ending I had planned (literally line by line planned. it was a killer ending). The readers and their pure love for this fic have always moved me and made me want to finish this story, if only for them. I’ve heard testimonials on how much this fic has helped people through dark spaces, and that means the goddamn world to me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted as a writer.

But--again momentarily setting aside my real ethical concerns about finishing this--I also have to consider what’s best for me, my career, and my own sanity. I would worry to death about the potential consequences of finishing this fic--who it may hurt, and how it could hurt me. I do not see a world where I finish this fic without modifications to several scenes, and disclaimers in my notes concerning my current adult thoughts on this story and its problems in regards to things that are too rooted in the fic to change, like Lance’s family’s economic situation. And, as of now, I just do not have the time or energy to do that. 

So. SLAOS. I love it, I hate it, I worry about it intensely. I don’t want to let anyone down. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Will I finish it--do I want to finish it? I have no goddamn idea. It’s complicated. that’s the TLDR of this post. it’s really complicated.

Some of you may be completely boggled by my concerns addressed above, some of you may even find them silly. Some of you, for the first time, might look back on this story and see it in a less glowing light. I don’t know. You’re welcome to send me your thoughts and questions. But this is something I have been thinking about for a while and I had to get it off my chest.

Idk. Please try to understand where I’m coming from, even if you don’t agree with my concerns or the opinions being discussed among writers I’ve talked about. For me, these are incredibly real concerns, issues, and fears. 

That’s it. Loraine loves you. Stan Mavis. Peace out.

[amwritingmeta]

4x06 Deconstruction: This One Goes Out to All of Dean’s Fears

I started working on this after 14x19 and it’s been sat in a document folder needing to be turned into a post ever since. With all the fairly delicious callbacks to this particular ep in 15x07 this seems the opportune time to give it a polish and share. Hope y’all will enjoy!  xx

So, I’ve been meaning to do this ever since I wrote this meta on 4x05, because watching the opening half of S4 is like taking a nose dive into Dean’s character and what he needs to understand about himself in order to let go of old patterns of behaviour and belief systems, grow into his own person and find the answer to what will actually make him happy. 

The trajectory of this nose dive is set up through Castiel arriving on the scene with his way of looking into Dean’s soul and stating uncomfortable truths: You don’t think you deserve to be saved and Good Things Do Happen. 

S4 and Dean’s rebirth (or his rehymination, as he calls it in 4x05) is all about setting him on the path towards adulthood. This is where his coming-of-age story really begins in earnest. The need for him to let go of old patterns of behaviour has been hit on throughout S1-3, but those first seasons act more as a setting up of this fact, letting us follow the behavioural pattern, whereas in S4 we start to get more contrasts to it, including discovering new sides to him, like exactly how much he knows and reads etc.

Now, let’s focus on how Yellow Fever explores Dean’s inner fears and explicitly lets him know that he has to confront them. 

This episode states that this is the work that’s beginning for him, whether he likes it or not. 

(he likes it not) (which is why he rejects the proposition in the episode’s final scene) (and has continued to reject it out of narrative necessity ever since) (but I skip ahead)

I’m late to the party here, so I’m #sorrynotsorry for the repetition, but I’m really eager to finally dig into this episode, since how it comes off the back of 4x05 and how it leads right into the absolute smasher that is 4x07 has felt so weighty to me ever since I deconstructed Monster Movie.

Contemplating the visual and thematic callback in 14x16 to this very episode, established through Felix the snake, as well as the most recent callback we got through that lovely piece of dialogue in 15x07, I feel that the intricately crafted exploration of Dean’s fears in 4x06, and the stated need for him to confront them if he’s to be happy, is more intriguing than ever.

Alright, before we go ahead and dig in, I want to present you with a few thoughts on Dean. Namely, I’d like to list the fears I see this episode exploring and they are:

Fear of Rejection (linked to perception of societal judgement)

Fear of Death (linked to Hell)

Fear of Growth and Internal Transformation (linked to fear of happiness)

Fear of Happiness (linked to losing his mother at a young age)

Fear of Failure (linked to Protect Sammy, and, in turn, linked to all the above)

These fears, and how they interlink in rather amazing ways, inform his behaviour, and it’s his behaviour when confronted with all of these fears that the narrative of 4x06 explores. And to my brain it does so in staggering ways, yeah?

Yeah. Okay. Let’s dig.

Little Pink Bow

We start the episode with Dean, running for his life, terrified. 

I mean, he is literally running from his fears. It’s rather gorgeous. 

The scene also paints the mood for the rest of the episode, where Dean’s skewed perception of the root of his fears are explored in depth. 

As a viewer, you’re brought into the belief that Dean is truly running from Hellhounds because, of course, this belief is effectively established through use of sound as Dean is running away from the noise of barking dogs, teasing the idea that the fear Dean’s displaying has to do with seriously bad memories of getting ripped to shreds and sent to Hell. (remember that we’ve only had glimpses through snippets of nightmares up until now of how much Dean actually remembers of his time there)

The scene itself is shot with urgency and real threat. We feel Dean’s fear. We worry for him. We wonder what the fuck is going on. We don’t want him to get attacked and dragged back to Hell! 

We get an abrupt stop to Dean’s flight when he crashes into the cart of a homeless man, but Dean’s on his feet quick enough and it’s put in dialogue that what you should do is run from your fears. Because if you don’t, they’ll kill you! And then…

…we get the tiniest, friendliest little dog, complete with pink bow as a visual aid underlining exactly how non-threatening it really is meant to be perceived by us.

This reveal of Dean not being about to get dragged back to Hell is funny, obviously, on many levels because we’re relieved that Dean’s terror is unfounded, and then we get hit with the understanding of Dean the Soldier Warrior Man running away from the sweetest little creature ever.

So, though this is sincerely funny thanks to impeccable acting, to me, there’s a bit more to it, and it’s to do with how this scene really sets the tone for the entire episode.

This tone is all to do with the exploration of Dean’s character makeup and what really makes him tick. 

Surface level narrative explores our first impression of what this episode is about: Dean’s fear of dying and going back to Hell. (Run! It’ll kill you!) This episode is about to lay it bare to us how Dean’s struggling with his memories of Hell, with his lingering fear that God has made a serious mistake and that it’ll all get ripped away from him again. 

His feelings of guilt at how he caved and began to torture souls keeping his self-loathing as intact as ever, and that self-loathing keeps him feeling, very much, that he didn’t deserve to be saved. Which feeds his fear that it was all a big mistake. And around and around it goes.

But his persistent self-loathing and feelings of worthlessness are in turn anchored entirely in fears that have been with Dean his whole life. The fears listed above in the intro to this analysis. And, to me, these fears are what that pink bow is about. 

Because subtextually I see Dean running from himself when he tries to escape that little dog. He’s running from fears that are, if he really dared open his eyes and look at them, not nearly as threatening as he thinks they are. If he just dared recognise them for what they are and begin to face them, he’d see that they’re no more dangerous than that little dog is.

Subtextual level narrative explores those fears, the ones intrinsic to Dean’s character, the ones feeding the surface level narrative fear of Hell and that are keeping the guilt and sense of worthlessness and lack of faith in himself very much at the forefront of his self-perception.

S4 is all about pushing Dean to open up to who he truly is. It’s about asking himself what will make him happy. It’s all about identity. And, yes, the series as a whole is about identity, but this season pushes that theme into a whole new focus from previous seasons. 

There’s a shift with Castiel entering the narrative and God reaching down a hand to give Dean a mission. There’s tentative faith beginning to blossom in Dean, which is a hugely important building block for Dean to dare to face his fears, and is also something this episode picks up from 4x05 (It’s kind of like a mission… Like a mission from God…) and builds on.

His Heart Gave Out

So, we get an immediate plant that what we’re about to deal with is matters of the heart. 

This plant is important for the plot of the episode, of course, but symbolically hearts are tied to Dean and it’s been implied since as early as 2x01 (ah @mittensmorgul​ pointed out that it actually starts in 1x12 and of course! how could I neglect the episode that started the faith thread?? tut! thanks for the pointer Laura!) that heart issues could be what kills him, rather than a bullet between the eyes. Right? 

Right. But rather than looking at it as a direct foreshadowing of Dean’s death, it could be seen as a comment on what is keeping him from living, and what’s keeping him from truly living is the fact that he’s unable to open his heart, to have faith, to trust. (and how can you follow your heart if you don’t trust it?) (you can’t is how)

Also very much the reason why Castiel the angel of Heaven and bringer of faith (who’s biggest problem is having too much heart) has stepped onto the scene, but I shan’t digress. 

The fact that the coroner actually takes out the heart of our vic and places it in Dean’s hands gets a rather amazing bookend moment in the scene where Lilith tells Dean he knows why this is happening to him and that he should listen to his heart. *slow eyebrow raise* I’ll get back to that.

Sheriff’s Office

Please note that the cute young deputy is already noticing Dean, and Dean notices him noticing, and Sam is noticing them noticing each other. This is important to note not only because it’s fucking amazing to make note of it, but also because of the Moment that comes later. We all know it, I still gotta call it out, but that’s for later.

Now for the sheriff.

I just want us to make note of a few things regarding the sheriff as well:

The sheriff gave the deputy instructions he didn’t want to be disturbed and now scolds him for doing as told

The sheriff gets the brothers to take their shoes off

The sheriff keeps putting disinfectant on his hands

Conclusion, he’s a control freak, and he’s a control freak because? 

I’d say he’s a control freak out of fear. A man doesn’t use disinfectant like that if he’s not terrified of germs, right? And this character trait lowkey links him to another control freak germaphobe. Yup, that would be Dean.

I’d also like us to note that Dean can’t stay professional and act like an actual adult (because he’s not one) when the sheriff says the word gamecock. The sheriff, being an actual adult, gently corrects the behaviour, leaving Dean looking self-conscious.

Could Be a Hundred Things

We continue the setting up of how Dean’s fears are about to go through some serious deconstruction, and with it the man himself, when Sam and Dean leave the sheriff’s office to have this exchange (edited btw):

Dean: Something scared him to death. Sam: Alright, so what could do that? Dean: What can’t? Ghosts, vampires, chupacabra. It could be a hundred things. Sam: So, we make a list and start crossing things off.

Yeah, remember the list I made of Dean’s fears? Going through that list and exploring Dean’s fears is what the narrative of this episode is setting up to do. Dean is, as the brothers are soon to realise, infected with the same ghost sickness that killed the vic. So here we have foreshadowing, in dialogue, of exactly what this episode means to do: go through the list of Dean’s fears and highlight, with each new situation where one of these fears is explored, exactly what Dean’s issues are and why the biggest one is… his closed off heart.

First fear: rejection.

Because why exactly do those teenagers make Dean need to cross the street? He doesn’t like the look of them, but why? They’re just a group of friends standing on the sidewalk in broad daylight. 

I’d say it’s to do with Dean’s fear of societal judgement, that has kept the conviction and reliance on his toxic masculinity armour so firmly in place for so long. Even firmer in place, I’d argue, than John’s immediate influence. 

John introduced it as a necessity for survival, for keeping your head focused in a fight, for putting emotion aside and getting the job done, but wearing the armour also meant social status and acceptance, even admiration. I think Dean caught onto this at a young age. Because that’s how we all form our personas (how we present ourselves to the world), through societal conditioning. Or through growing aware of this conditioning and telling it to go fuck itself. (good for you if you’re in that place) (Dean’s journey has been all about getting there) 

The fact that Dean’s insecurity stretches to even the possibility of teenagers side-eyeing him is a really great set-up for how this very deep fear is about to get put under an extremely bright light for the rest of the episode, through Luther’s storyline. 

She Smells Fear

Sam and Dean go to see the vic’s neighbour Mark and oh, he really, really likes his reptiles. 

Second fear: growth and internal transformation.

Why do I see this scene as being indicative of this fear? Well, because of how snakes, as we know, symbolise transformation. They symbolise healing. (Ouroboros anyone?) 

Now, of course, surface narratively speaking, Dean doesn’t exactly enjoy having a huge albino python sliterhing onto his lap (though the dirtier connotations that can be made from the visual are all shades hilariously poignant) (also the fact that the Devil was a snake and Dean’s fear of Hell) (all part of the symbology for the surface level fear), but him freaking out at all the reptiles and one spider (also symbolic of transformation), to me, has much more to do with what these creatures all declare for the subtextual reading (the pink bow related one), and their declaration is a continuation of what 4x01 told us.

Dean needs to open himself up to much needed internal growth and transformation.

This is what the first five episodes of the season, landing us here in 4x06, are all about: deconstructing Dean, forcing him to gain new perspectives on himself, on his behavioural patterns, on what has shaped him into the man he’s always seen himself as. 

Look at how, in just a few short episodes, he’s had someone enter his life that has not only brought with him a whole new world view, where God and the Devil exist, and where Heaven, for whatever reason, actually seems to be on his side, but this someone has also brought him back in time to bring him a new understanding of his mother and who she really was, not who she was when filtered through John’s view of her. 

I mean, that’s giving an insight into his lack of faith in himself as well as laying the foundation for beginning to question his self-perception right there. Within the first three episodes of the season. *head explodes*

So, to my mind, this episode is an extension and, in many ways, a deepening of what the season has clearly set itself out to do, yeah?

The fact that Marie is stated in dialogue to smell fear is just delightful. 

Might I also draw your eye to how we, in this scene, are told that the vic was freaking out. About witches. Who is skeeved out by witches? Dean. So there’s a narrative tie there, which I find interesting. (that the witch-freakout for Frank is tied to The Wizard of Oz comment is just icing)

Why is Dean so skeeved out by witches? I would say because witches symbolise something deeply regressed within him, which is his feminine side. His non-performing side. Rowena comes as a Dean mirror, and a very powerful one at that, bringing deep truth and standing in, for her first seasons, as a representative of toxic masculinity traits not simply being allocated to men and underlining how we can all display these traits, regardless of gender.

There’s also the ghosts (the past), the vampires (dual nature of identity and wearing a mask to cope) and chupacabra (happiness, mayhaps?), and how Carl Jung talks about what monsters really represent to us and why they’re so prevailing throughout human mythology. I mean, I studied this at uni so Carl didn’t teach me this, but the fact that it ties in with Carl Jung’s doctrine just gives me a sense of synchronicity. But. This is already getting fucking long, guys. :)

Moving on.

When Mark says that Frank used to tape his butt cheeks together we get another moment of Dean being an absolute child about it, unable to keep a smile down, presumably at the idea of butt cheeks taped together, not the idea of bullying, and again he totally offends the person talking, and he grows sligthly self-conscious about it. 

He really needs some self-perspective, yeah? Yeah.

Scratching the Itch

I mean… Look, I think that Dean has never been able to scratch the proverbial itch because what he’s the most scared of is the idea of daring to believe in a good thing happening, because good things do not last, not in Dean’s experience. You know? 

He’s a big-hearted, soft-to-the-core, loving type of human being, who longs, more than anything, for real love, to be loved for who he truly is. And all of that, including his true identity, is being repressed out of his fear. Of happiness. Because Good Things Don’t Last. 

I’ll talk more about the root of this further down, but I just find the fact that in this episode, the ghost sickness, which is a manifestation of fear, is literally an itch he keeps trying to scratch, and it just gets bigger and worse and is a visual statement of how his internalised fears are pretty much driving him out of his head is a rather poetic choice.

So, we get the information that Frank’s wife committed suicide way back when and that Frank had an airtight alibi and then we get the reveal that Dean appears to be, by all accounts, haunted.

Ghosts as representatives of needing to put the past to rest… Just throwing that in there.

And Dean is driving slow. 

Second fear: death.

And this was already established through the fear of Hellhounds at the beginning of the episode, yeah? But given the deeper issues being addressed here, you could actually argue for Dean’s fear of death not only being linked to a very real fear of Hell, but of a genuine desire to live.

Peeling back the layers of the Blaze of Glory bravado that’s kept him on a self-destructive fast-track for so long and revealing the softer belly underneath. 

I mean, one could argue. Since this episode is all about stripping away the toxic masculinity armour and showing the non-performing side to Dean. Showing us the truth, rather than the lie he’s been telling Sam since he got back from Hell. And on a subtextual level, stripping away the armour that’s keeping him safe from himself and exposing those nerve endings.

Because he should listen to his heart. 

But we’ll get to that.

Eye of the Tiger

I really do appreciate the detail of the cowboy scene on that hotel. Like. Wow. It’s almost insane. To me, this show is all about deconstructing the American ideal of the 50s, right? The ideal that’s informed toxic masculinity patterns since then, as well as the toxic patterns of societal judgement at large. 

It was in the 50s that the Hollywood western shaped the cowboy/sheriff character into becoming a glorifed male hero ideal, moving away from the truth of the rather open-minded wild wild west and into the commersial version of a very white, very straight man’s man who got the job done, no matter what, and sorted shit out wherever he went. Yeah? 

Anyway, I digress. This deconstruction is why cowboys and native americans and the wild west symbology is just so poignant on the show. And here it is. In all its glory. Attached to a hotel that could be said to be low-key linked to happiness.

Because the bluebird is a symbol of happiness.

Fourth fear: happiness.

And, look, Dean’s fear of heights is linked to the hotel, okay? His fear of flying. And flying is linked to? Yeah, you get the idea here. Of course, Castiel. 

Here’s the thing, this is a highly dubious reading, because it’s absolutely not anywhere in the narrative that Bluebird is the chosen name for a hotel suddenly related to a fear of heights related to a fear of flying and being out of control and it tying back to Cas, who is making Dean feel all sorts of not-in-control. Yeah? That’s my reading.

But it’s my reading because there’s more. 

Wait for it.

First, let’s talk a bit more about this scene —>

Dean rejects food. (love Sam’s reaction face like the fuck?) 

Why the fuck does Dean reject the food?

I’d say because food is a superficial band-aid, right? It’s ineffective comfort at this point. A way to eat his emotions, rather than find healthy outlets for them, like, I don’t know, actually connecting to others because that’s just a recipe for disaster, death and loss. But his emotions, right now, will not be suppressed by simple means. They’re completely in control of him and refuse to be put back in their designated boxes. 

So the ghost sickness can be spread like any disease and, of course, attacks the heart. Dean got infected when holding Frank’s heart. 

Sam didn’t get infected and Sam and Bobby’s theory is that the men who got infected all had a history of being dicks. Which is, you know, funny, but tragic, when looking at the surface level fear of Hell. Because Dean became a torturer of souls. So kinda a dick. Very much using fear as his weapon. 

But when it comes to the principal and the bouncer, it’s not verified that they did. Sam and Bobby are just associating using fear as a weapon with the roles of principal and bouncer. Especially when looking at how Dean tries to reject the idea that he, as a hunter, uses fear to scare people, Sam telling him all they do is scare people, and fair enough, but the ghost sickness isn’t infecting Sam.

And it isn’t infecting Sam because, for the subtextual layer of Dean’s fear, this theory is too shallow.

For the subtextual layer of Dean’s fears I’d say that the ghost sickness actually latches onto guilt.

There’s even the aspect to Frank where guilt might actually be the foremost reason for why the ghost sickness infects him as well, since we’ll learn later through Luther’s brother that Frank’s wife wasn’t killed, but was a victim of suicide. We don’t get it extrapolated on what caused her to take her own life, but safe to say her marriage was anything but healthy, and Frank’s outrage and murder of Luther seems to be underpinned by him being wholly unable to process his own guilt,  instead ending up projecting it onto an easy target.

baby gonna cry?

The fear of dying and of going back to Hell is threaded through in this scene, clarifying it further for us that this is what Dean’s terrified of. 

The ticking clock pretty much acting like a visual underlining of Dean feeling like he’s back on borrowed time. It’s inevitable that he has to go back. For all the things he did while there. He can’t have been forgiven. He sure as shit hasn’t forgiven himself. 

Dean breaks the clock. Doesn’t need the reminder of how his head is, as he tells Sam, on the chopping block again. He’d almost forgotten what that feels like.

For a moment. Like a glimmer. There had been the thought that he was serving something bigger. That maybe he was off the hook. Chosen to do great deeds. Aw, Dean. You’re not meant to learn how to have faith in a higher power. You’re meant to learn how to have faith in yourself.

They realise, as Dean coughs up a wood chip, that he’s the biggest clue they have.

Dean doesn’t like it.

Cassity & Sons

Now. Of all the things to call this lumber mill, this haunted structure - housing Luther, our ghost of the hour who is in the narrative to be representative of Dean’s deepest issues, his most repressed fear - of all the things to call it, there’s a Cass in the name. 

It could just be a tounge-in-cheek thing. It could mean nothing. But I like to think it does. Coming off of the absolutely angel riddled narrative of 4x05 as well, I really do think it does.

From the Bluebird of happiness and Dean’s fear of flying/heights, to the structure that is about to be significant in exploring Dean’s deepest fear being owned by a man named Cassity… I feel there’s reason to think there’s a reason for it. 

But, either way, this structure and Luther himself are important for exploring Dean’s deepest fears.

(they’re not playing around with the sign and making sure to linger on it either)

Now. Dean takes one look at this place. A place he has no idea if it’s haunted or not, btw. And states he is not going in there. Sure, nine times out of ten a place like that, given Dean’s previous experience with places like this, turns out to be haunted. Fair enough.

But in a subtextual context, with the structure itself owned and run by Cassity… 

Dean doesn’t want to go in there because of what he’ll have to face. Which is, in essence, the need to face up to the fact that he’s already beginning to open himself up to the idea of change, to wanting change, because of this formidable someone who’s arrived in his life through a rain of sparks as a catalyst for Dean to begin to gain a sense of what faith actually feels like.

Dean doesn’t want to touch all that with a ten-foot pole. 

Because, and this is wholly unconscious, but because touching it means daring to have faith that Good Things Do Happen. And because Dean’s fear of happiness is fed by the conviction that Good Things Don’t Last, and this fear sits at his very core and so – he drinks.

He downs half a bottle of whiskey.

Because he’s gonna need liquid courage to face the idea of opening himself up.

And he mans the flashlight.

Rejecting that gun is interesting, because, of course it’s tied to his fear of injury resulting in death, but it’s also Dean rejecting something that’s always brought him a sense of control before. 

Consider: as he’s brought into situations of facing his fears, his armour falls away and the tools that  that armour relies on, to make him feel in control, don’t actually fill that function anymore.

Regarding Dean relies on that same peeling back of Dean’s layers, yeah? That same deconstruction. The shedding of the toxic masculinity armour to have a peak at what’s really underneath it all.

Dean masks his fear and he masks it really well. He feels he’s on control, all the time, thanks to the mask, thanks to the armour, but the truth is that he is a bundle of fear. Always. He’s just gotten so good at masking it that he’s masking the truth even to himself.

That’s what this episode is all about. Lifting that curtain. Forcing him into a position where all that raw emotion is exposed and he can’t lie to himself anymore. It helps set up the reveal of how he remembers Hell, but it also sets up for Dean’s journey of introspection this season, yeah?

Surface level vs. subtextual level.

EMF

If ghosts are representatives of the past (and needing to learn how to let go) then the fact that Dean is dealing with fears that were established in his childhood, meaning he’s one hundred percent facing his past and what’s shaped him into who he is with every new situation this episode, then that EMF meter wouldn’t work around him, would it?

He’s haunted by his past. Suppressed Hell-guilt, and repressed fears anchored in his childhood. Oh my.

I love Sam in this episode. He’s unfortunately a reactionary character, the straight man, as you’d call it, because this isn’t his journey, but oh what a reactionary character he is. Also —>

Can’t do a post on this episode and not have Dean screaming his head off. *sadism*

Now, I very much enjoy the fact that, once it’s time to do the detecting, Dean takes part in it without hesitation. Autopilot kicks in and he engages with the search for clues without any fear, because there’s nothing scary about it.

But when the ghost (the past) appears, he runs like the damn wind.

Sam is there, though, to take care of it.

And Dean downs the rest of the bottle. Taking us into that epicness of epicnessess that is —>

Drunk and Unabashedly Flirty

I mean, look, okay? This is blatant.

Dean stands there, having a slightly worried expression on when he notices the woman to his right, glancing over at her suspiciously, okay? We get that he’s still scratching at the itch, he’s still alert, even though he is drunk, right?

But what does not faze him? What makes him put on a goofy smile? The very cute (I’d even call him a pretty boy) deputy from earlier, with whom he exchanged looks, so that there’s an already established sense of mutual attraction there. 

Dean: You know what? You’re awesome.

And then Dean just keeps smiling goofily, taking the compliment that’s offered back to him, until Sam comes and pulls him out of there. 

And the fact that this is the one instance in this entire episode after the ghost sickness kicks in that Dean is not displaying even a whisper of fear is what has informed my impression of him being absolutely comfortable with his bisexuality. 

Here he’s dropping the toxic masculinty armour because?

Well, I’d say it’s because he wears that armour because it allows him to suppress/repress whatever fear is threatening to surface. Here, in this episode, we’re checking off a list, and he’s faced his fears at this point, and now only has to acknowledge them and learn how to actually dig deep and deal with them. (which he won’t) (but this episode is exposition for this being what the narrative wants him to do) (this is the big lesson it’s trying to teach Dean moving forward) (listen to your heart)

Luther

The habit of lying without a second thought (including to himself) is being stripped away with the rest of his coping mechanisms and here we get Dean freaking out over the thought of all the possible consequences that lying might actually land on their heads. 

Sam acts the parental figure as Dean regresses out of his control freak patterns and into a state where he’s in need of Sam’s protection, not the other way around. Whenever this happens on the show it’s always nice to see Sam stepping up to the plate without hesitation. It’s just that Sam doesn’t seem to remember his ability to do that and falls back on the codependency easily enough. Understandable, since it’s the core of the narrative motor, but oh, Sam. You’re such a clear leader.

Luther’s brother speaks of Luther’s backstory, and just as the characteristics of Frank and the sheriff make them Dean mirrors, the ghost of the hour is the biggest Dean mirror to me, and reveals a lot to us about Dean’s deepest fears.

Garland: Everybody was scared of Luther. They called him a monster. He was too big, too mean-looking. Just too different. Didn’t matter that he was the kindest man I ever knew. Didn’t matter he’s never hurt no one. A lot of people failed Luther, I was one of them. I was a widower with three young ones and I told myself there was nothing I could do.  Sam: Mr. Garland, do you recognise this woman? Garland: That’s Jessie O’Brian. Her man, Frank, killed Luther.  Sam: How do you know that? Garland: Everybody knows. They just don’t talk about it. Jessie was a receptionist at the mill. She was always real nice to Luther and he had a crush on her. But Frank didn’t like it. Then when Jessie went missing, Frank was sure that Luther had done something to her. Turns out the old gal killed herself, but Frank didn’t know that. They found Luther with a chain wrapped around his neck. He was dragged up and down the stretch outside that plant till he was past dead. 

Frank was the pillar of the community.

Luther was just the town freak. 

Frank was respected.

Luther was judged and dismissed as not even being human, simply because he didn’t look like everybody else. 

Frank is framed as being an abusive, violent dickhead - clearly not the most stabile marriage - and to find an outlet for his grief, Frank picks up a shotgun and then drags a man along a road until he’s dead.

Luther’s almost childlike innocense and kindness leads him to find an outlet for his unrequited feelings of love through drawing portraits of the object of his affections.

Frank is representative of toxic masculinity (performing Dean) while Luther is all about wearing his heart on his sleeve (non-performing Dean). 

And, to me, Luther’s backstory of how wearing his heart on his sleeve gets him nothing but societal judgement, and leads to his death, is telling of Dean’s deepest fear, and why it’s been perpetuated for so long through his experiences of societal judgement, because Dean’s deepest fear is his fear of happiness, and it sits at his core and informs the rest of his fears, which, in turn, inform his behavioural pattern of using coping mechanisms to suppress/repress his true emotions, locking himself away from ever really having to open up to them. 

And what is the root of Dean’s fear of happiness?

Well, here’s how I see it:

Dean’s biggest battle with his past isn’t the idealisation of his father, but why he idealised his father –>

The why stems entirely from Dean’s loss of his mother, because that loss meant having his life ripped to shreds, resulting in Dean losing his trust in that childlike sense of joy, tied to the stability of home, love, family –>

This is the root of his long-held belief that Good Things Don’t Last, which underpins the idea that happiness (and love) equals pain, an idea that’s been perpetuated throughout Dean’s formative years, since every time he’s come close to feeling happy, something’s happened to snatch that sense of stability and safety away –>

Fearing getting hurt by believing he deserves happiness was easily avoided by dressing himself in toxic masculinity armour, modelling himself after the strongest man he could think of: his father

So every time he came close to happiness and let himself believe, only to have things fall apart on him, that armour has gotten just a little thicker

Dean is stuck in an emotional loop that through this season’s first arc of deconstructing Dean with Chuck, but to me especially through the communication rift between Dean and Cas, is being highlighted, just as it was in 4x06. And we got the entrance into this mini-deconstruction thanks to the same occurance that lay the foundation for Dean’s fear of happiness: the loss of his mother.

It’s the brightest of threads, threading through all of the emotional subtext and necessary character progression that the series as a whole has been pushing for since forever for Dean (and through his progression what it’s been pushing Sam’s and Cas’ individual progression towards as well) *gorgeous*

We Are Insane!

This scene is so everything because omg the comedic timing is just!

And I love how, when thinking closer on the topic of a Dean deconstructed, in Yellow Fever, when all there is to him is fear, he rejects the life, and all sides to it, but when he lost his memories in Regarding Dean, and what was left was his innocence, all that was left for us to see was his wonder and excitement.

Meaning that Dean stripped of all of his fears (once he’s faced them and accepted them and integrated them) is a soft, happy, content human being. As long as he actually remembers who he is and exactly how to survive, he’ll be goddamn unstoppable. And he’ll be balanced and happy. 

*please, good gods, please*

Buh-Boom

Dean starts to have some serious hallucinations and any reason for Jared to play a different character or side to Sam is just all good with me (Gadreel is still just… mind-blowingly good). 

So Dean sees Sam with yellow eyes and here comes the final fear.

Fifth fear: failure.

Failing to Protect Sammy means pretty much losing his purpose at the Yellow Fever point in the narrative. It’s changed since S12, because of a big shift in Dean’s perspective, but of course, Protect Sammy is still at the top of the list of Dean’s self-worth check list. What’s he worth if he’s unable to protect Sam? To his mind, still not much. Protect Sammy as identity marker has tripped Dean up his whole life, and here that fact comes into stark relay.

Now if we stay with Dean in the hotel room, we get to witness how his inner fears attack him, and of course the surface level fear is the one that manifests: fear of death and going back to Hell.

Thusly – hellhounds.

They turn out to be the sheriff, who’s come to confront Dean about his investigation, and I love how Dean, no matter his fraught mental state, knocks that gun out of the sheriff’s hand and then has the rather amazing fortitude to tell the sheriff he has to calm down. Only it’s too late. The sheriff suffers a heart attack. 

Dean sits on the bed, scratching. Hears the voice of the Sam hallucination telling him he’s going back, and it’s about damn time too. 

Dean…

…picks up a Bible.

This visual ties right back in with 4x05 again, with the threads of faith beginning to show themselves in Dean’s progression. He’s beginning to want to believe. He looks at that Bible like it’s a life line. He presses his lips to it and hey, I’d say this might be his first moment of giving into prayer as recourse. 

But his prayer doesn’t exactly get him what he wants.

I’d theorise that it’s because he’s not meant to learn to have faith in God, but in himself, and this whole episode is about forcing him into a meltdown, which is what he’s in the middle of now. Zero faith in himself, zero faith that he’s not going back to Hell.

And that’s why Lilith appears.

I do love how Dean actually points the Bible at Lilith stating: You are not real.

He’s using God’s faith in him as a shield. Trying desperately to convince himself. Which is rather lovely given the context of how Lilith is a representation of something deep within him that he’s trying so hard to avoid confronting.

And here comes the reveal of exactly what the fear of Hell is really anchored in, because it’s not anchored in Dean’s memories of his gruesome death at the jaws of the Hellhound that killed him, it’s anchored in his memories of not four months in Hell, but forty years. 

Guilt.

And Dean’s heart starts to give out.

Dean: You’re not real. Lilith: Doesn’t matter. You’re still gonna die, you’re still gonna burn. Dean: Why me? Why’d I get infected? Lilith: Silly goose. You know why, Dean. 

What Lilith says now is, really, what’s informed my entire reading of this episode and I’ve mentioned it several times already. She tells Dean: Listen to your heart.

To me, it’s Dean at this point knowing, deep down, that the only way to keep himself from going back to Hell, the only way he can truly be saved, is all about him beginning to recognise his need to face his fears. 

It’s about him daring to listen to his heart and daring to let his emotions be his guide, rather than shutting them down, bottling them up, without question. 

This is what his journey is all about, yeah? To learn to let go of the past and all the fears that have been informed by what he’s been taught and told, and opening up to who he truly is and who he truly wants to be.

This is what the beginning of the season has set up for and what the rest of the season will continue to explore, slowly, of course, but meticulously, and it doesn’t slow down in S5 and, honestly, each season has added a new aspect of exactly this exploration, gently pushing Dean toward moments of daring to be honest with himself, which to this meta writer culminated in S11, when he finally had it pointed out to him that he’s not just attracted to or kind of enamoured with this angel dude, he is truly pining for him, and it made him unable to keep trying to deny the truth of how he’s fallen deeply in love, no matter the terror that comes with it. (and twice the worrying about getting ganked to boot)

I’d say that this realisation, this final admittance of his true feelings, is what opened Dean’s heart up to looking at what was really driving Amara from a different angle, and made it possible for him to, instead of blowing her to kingdom come using the soul bomb, actually talk to her on a more human level, about the feelings that were driving her actions. But, again, that’s my reading, not narratively stated anywhere so, you know, pinches of salt here.

Adding to all of this is how Dean needed Mary most because the loss of her is the root of Dean’s fear of happiness, and getting to have her back allowed him to gain perspective on so many things, like his idealisation of her (and through that beginning to slowly open his eyes to his idealisation of John as well) (though this didn’t take root until S13), and he got to tell her that he hated her for what she did to them, but that he loved her, he he got to forgive her, because he could finally see her as a human being, and human beings make mistakes, rather than only having her as an idealised memory, the loss of her idealised mothering love marring his ability to trust from a very young age. Especially his ability to trust himself, since he couldn’t save her.

This realisation is also what brought on the whole awkward 11x23 Brologue like… I don’t think you love me back because I couldn’t reach through to you, but hey, you mean a lot to me, bro.

I find it interesting that Sam’s the one to save Dean. Symbolically Sam and Bobby’s intervention saves Dean from being consumed by his fears. I’ve always felt like Sam stepping up and choosing to show Dean that he’s ready for independence, that he needs it, will push their unhealthy patterns to a breaking point, especially since Dean is already aware, he just doesn’t know how to let go when he’s not sure Sam’s ready. But we shall see.

I’ll Kill Anything

Look at where we land. Look at this absolutely stunning bookend and how it wraps the theme of fear and how it informs Dean’s behavioural pattern into a soft, warm statement of You Really Need to Stop This, Dean Winchester.

We start this episode with the visual of Dean running from his fears. The fears that are coming at him wrapped up in a neat pink bow. :P

We end this episode after it’s spent a good forty minutes picking through Dean’s fears, with him facing the two fears that always get to him the most, the ones that perpetuates his reliance on the toxic masculinity armour to help define who he is: his fear of rejection and his fear of failure.

We get the fear of rejection in how he completely overreacts to Sam and Bobby’s gentle teasing about how this line of work can get awfully scary, Dean forcefully reasserting how he’ll hunt, he’ll kill anything, unable to bear the thought that the men who know him best in the world could, for even a moment, think of him as yellow aka a coward (which of course they don’t) or question his killer instinct (which of course they wouldn’t). 

This brief emasculation, however, really bothers Dean in the moment (and Jensen plays it gorgeously) and he squares up to it without hesitation, the armour slamming down and leading right into the softer moment with Sam, when he gets the chance to be honest with his brother, to share some of the burden, but…

…Protect Sammy is still prevalent, and Dean chooses to downplay the ordeal he just went through, and lie through his teeth about the true nature of it, still not opening up to Sam about Hell.

So, back to square one we go, but with all this glorious insight into Dean as a character to warm us by, and here we now are at the end of it all, and I’m so very curious what Dabb - who cowrote this episode with Daniel Loflin btw - will give us. *hopeful for all the good things* *always*

[beautifulletdownfics]

‘someday, someday’ :: tumblr edition, #27

In hindsight, given what was happening, I shouldn’t have answered my phone to the unknown number.

The week after we returned from New York was a whirlwind. Harry and I spent our first day back holed up together at his house, snoozing through jet lag and doing our laundry from the trip. I went straight back to rehearsals the day after that, fighting off a tickle in my throat I was adamant wasn’t going to turn into any kind of seasonal head-cold. Harry spent two days in his UK management office, sorting out all the paperwork and legal aspects of him working on his March EP in London with Rodger’s studio before he was straight to work writing and recording.

At some point, I would be joining him in the studio because, as Rod from his management company had alluded to in New York, Harry was hoping to include the song that I helped him with his new releases. He wanted to give me full writer's credit which I was instantly opposed to, but Harry was adamant that without being able to credit my contribution he wouldn't release the song. It was a beautiful song and as much as I was uncomfortable being included, it felt like daylight robbery to have it die because of me.

Alongside that, my dad arrived in town, and in-between my own rehearsals I managed to sneak into his and sit in on him working with the London Symphony. I spent most nights having dinner with him near his hotel and then getting the tube back to my own house because Harry was either out or had already crashed for the night and I didn’t have the heart to disturb his sleep patterns.

Between all this, it was increasingly becoming harder to ignore the chatter that seemed to be following me. I was more and more finding myself ignoring message notification on my phone, avoiding surfing any news sites, and I’d disabled what felt like every possible setting on my social media accounts. Friends from Blackpool and Cambridge were reaching out about Gavin and what he was saying, and more than a few of them were asking questions about Harry. I felt like I was the gatekeeper to some ridiculous secret everyone wanted details on, and what was making me feel sick about it was that, at this stage, the assumption in the gossip mill was simply that I knew Harry. Nobody had run far enough with the whole idea to predict I might be anything other than friends with the famous pop star.

I spent the whole week looking forward to the weekend. Friday night and Saturday were booked doing nothing in particular with Harry. Saturday evening would be spent with Harry, Rodger, Max, Gemma and Ned watching my Dad conduct the London Symphony Orchestra. And Sunday was reserved for spending at Harry’s dealing with whatever hangover resulted from the night before.

So really, answering an unknown caller on Friday just as I was about to text Harry I was on my way and walk into the tube was a stupid move.  It was almost certainly going to be someone that I definitely did not want to talk to; still, there was some part of my brain who thought perhaps it was someone from the orchestra whose number I hadn’t saved yet or a call about an appointment I forgot I made.

“Nina, as I live and breathe,” Gavin’s voice was smooth and precise in my ear, “You really did block me number, huh.”

I stopped walking and turned on my heel, trying to escape but having nowhere to go. I briefly considered hanging up out of sheer panic, but I didn’t like the precedence that set. Before I could figure out what the hell to do, he continued speaking. Holding my trumpet case in one hand and the phone in the other, I ducked into a shop alcove and stared blankly at the passing people in disbelief.

“You’re a tricky woman to get a hold of these days,” He crooned, “Shacking up with a pop star has changed you.”

"Gavin," I said, my voice shaking in a way I couldn't control, "What can I help you with?"

"Straight into assuming I need something from you," Gavin said with a tut, "I was calling to congratulate you. I underestimated you, which isn't something I care to admit."

I tried to give my voice a chipper edge, "That's big of you."

"What I can't figure out though is what he gets out of it," Gavin asked, sounding pleased with himself, "Styles doesn't strike me as needing numbers in the symphonic community."

"You don't know the first thing about Harry," I snapped quickly, immediately regretting it.

"Clearly," Gavin agreed eerily quickly, I'd played right into his hands, "Although no, that's probably not entirely fair to say. On paper, you're a catch. He'd have to have an ego on him, lesser men have fallen into the same trap."

"Gavin," I breathed out, losing my patience with his bating me. My heart was racing, and I turned back into the tube just so I could find somewhere to sit. "Why are you calling?"

"Just checking in," He said defensively, "Been getting loads of questions about you and wanted to speak to the legend herself. Couldn't believe Leon when he saw you at New Years, I was sorry to miss it."

"You're getting questions because you practically begged for the attention," I whispered quickly, suddenly surrounded by other people waiting for the train to pull up.

"Hey," He sneered down the phone, "I can share whatever the fuck I want online, hear me? It's not like Harry fucking Styles is going to sacrifice his perfect little media identity to correct the record for your sorry arse. Not that I technically said anything he needs to get his knickers in a twist about."

"What do you want from me?"

"Nothing," Gavin all but spat, "What on earth could you possibly have that I would want? It's pathetic to see really, you sucking off The Man to land that interview. Seems I was right, classical music can only get you so far ... You've had to get yourself a famous boyfriend to get anywhere."

"I was in the orchestra before Harry—"

"—Keep telling yourself that, love," He laughed.

"Gavin, just leave me alone, okay? Just ... Don't say shit online about Harry or me. You got the career you wanted, just back off mine, okay?"

"You owe me," He barked, "What on earth makes you think you can tell me how this is going to go?"

Dozens of other conversations with the same tone started layering over in my head, memories from years ago that had taken a long time to write over suddenly crashed through my mind and seized me up inside. He was just the same as always, and having been away from Gavin for so long supplied the harsh reality it—of what he had always been like—that much more jarring. I stopped speaking, which always resulted in Gavin's poison gaining momentum. I found a seat on the tube and pushed myself as far against the glass as I could, adrenalin was making my legs weak, and my eyes star.

"Do you know how embarrassing it was to have my girlfriend go fucking crazy and fall off the deep end?" He continued.

"I'm not crazy," I said weakly, feeling my eyes heat and my throat constrict.

He laughed sarcastically, "Love, you went full One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, we all know it. Jesus Christ, the questions I got when you fucked off. Humiliating is an understatement, I—."

With shaking hands, I held my phone out in front of my face, hearing him continuing to speak but not understanding the words correctly. I pressed the hang-up button and hurrying to go into my call log and block the number. After my phone was safely on aeroplane mode, I slipped it under my thigh and looked out the window at the black tunnel passing by, my own reflection staring back at me.

I looked crazy.

+++

I loved the London underground.

On weekend nights everyone is dressed up and smells terrific, the carriages are dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights, and there’s an air of something intrinsically seductive and winsome. Business people coming home have the relieved look of people who have earned their weekend breaks, and people on their way out have a joyous look of the pending release.

It can be so relaxing, and it's the only place in the world I have ever enjoyed the company of strangers. Because they're non-threatening, and I know they’re not expecting anything from me. I can be invisible, hiding behind anonymity and the simple fact that everyone has somewhere to be, people to meet and life to live.

I distracted myself with these thoughts as I sat on the train, swinging between digesting the call with Gavin and pretending it didn't happen by watching the people of London around me. I hadn't been paying attention to the train I got on and ended up heading in the opposite direction I usually did. I stumbled out of the carriage at some point and changed direction back into the city.

But when the Baker St underground came, I didn’t get off like I should have.

I needed to get on the Hammersmith and City line, but when Baker St came and disappeared again, and I was still firmly planted in my spot in the carriage. I did a quick calculation in my head and figured I could get off at Edgeware Rd, the next stop, and then go back.

But I didn’t.

I completely froze.

The station spun by, and the train breathed with passengers going off and new ones getting on.

Four stops came and went that way. I sat clasping my phone in my lap and trying everything I could to calm my thudding heart enough to allow me to get out at the next stop. I had to get off, I had to call Harry.

Or Max. Or Rodger. My dad. Anyone.

But I was sat on a train on the other side of London to them all. I told Harry I would let him know when my rehearsals finished for the day to see if he was still working with Rodger or if he was already heading home. If he was still with Rodger, we had plans to get dinner nearby before heading to North London where his home was. If Harry was already on his way home, I was going to get the tube to him.

An announcement came over the carriage speakers saying that the next stop, Shepherd’s Bush Market, was the last of the line and all passengers needed to disembark.

Ten minutes later, I found myself standing outside the station, trying to create an idea in my head of what was around this area. It was nearing seven o’clock by this stage, and the only thing I knew would be open was London Westfield, just a short walk away.

I put my phone into my blazer pocket, trying to forget I owned it at all, and followed the crowd into the shopping centre, my instrument case heavy at my side.

Most of the shops were shut, or closing, but the centre stayed open late for the cinema and restaurants dotted throughout.

I walked through numbly, my eyes flitting around all the different exhibits and stores. Most of them were familiar, but there was a level of comfort in the fact there were only a handful of other people I was sharing the space with. I liked being able to hear my heels click on the shiny floors, and the way the music playing through the speakers could be easily deciphered.

I recognised the Ed Sheeran song currently playing, but it was hearing another melody cut over it that halted me in my spot, and I wondered how it had been able to sneak up on me.

‘Romanza’ by Chopin.

A song more familiar to me than any pop song, one that had been familiar for years in a style that was as easy as breathing for me to inhabit.

My steps automatically quickened, and I found myself darting my gaze around, trying to follow the sound. I turned a final corner and hit what Rodger liked to refer to as the ‘Paris End’ of Westfield, where all the high end and designer stores were. The lighting up here was softer, the stores were guarded and underneath an impressive crystal chandelier was a black Bösendorfer grand piano.

There were armchairs arranged in a circle to the side of the piano, and I slowly slipped myself into one, putting my case down and not taking my eyes of the young man playing exquisitely for the whole shopping centre to hear. The acoustics were amazing.

With a small nod and a smile, he acknowledged my arrival but went back to his former state; eyes

closed, back swaying back and forward, and a blissfully serene look on his face. I was jealous of him.

The calmness of the piece eventually overtook me as well, and I rested my head back comfortably and shut my eyes to really hear what was being played. My heartbeat slowed, and the noise in my head disappeared. The scratchiness of my trousers and the damage my simple, black boots had done my feet disintegrated with it.

All that existed was a beautiful piano concerto being played, and my witnessing it.

Halfway through Debussy’s ‘Reflects Dan L’eau’ when I snapped back into the present by the bungle of three completely wrong notes, all in quick succession to each other. My eyes fluttered open and the way the shiny, reflective roof of the shopping centre took several moments to clear from my blurry eyes told me they had been shut for quite a while.

“Thought you’d drifted off, Miss,” he called out through a smile, slowing his playing and speaking over the piano. Something in the glint in his eye told me he knew messing up the notes would be the fastest way of catching my attention. His eyes fell on the instrument case at my feet.

“No,” I mumbled, sitting up straighter and watching as he nodded politely and then went back to concentrate on his playing, “I was just listening ...” I added quietly to myself.

The fact that he didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in why I was there, or why I didn’t appear to be making any move to leave pleased me. He simply went back to his playing, and I didn’t see him look my way again.

7:48pm, my phone screen read and when I turned aeroplane mode off the screen lit up with two missed calls from Harry and a string of texts, along with a missed call from Max.

5:12 Hiya, we're wrapping up now, I can swing by Southbank and pick you up for half-past? x

5:25 Sorry, make that 6. Traffic is shocking.

5:38 You're usually finished by now, everything okay?

6:10 Have I completely forgotten something I shouldn't have? Were you going to see your dad?

6:38 Babe, you're worrying me. Call me back x

He was worried, and I felt sick for it. Watching Harry's regular interactions with me and how he was going about a typical Friday night barely felt real. I didn’t know what I felt about what Gavin had said to me, but I knew that as soon as I pinpointed one emotion, the avalanche of all the rest would ensue. And following that would be an overriding sense of panic.

Panic was coming already though, seeping through the gaps and crevasses, damaging the wall blocking out what I was feeling. Because worrying about fear only brought it on faster, making it stronger. It was that double-edged sword of knowing something was coming but then inadvertently making it occur sooner.

I leant forward with my elbows on my knees and my head resting in my hands, putting all my attention on placing my feet in their black heels as close together and perfectly aligned as I could. My phone screen lit up on my lap, and my eyes were drawn to it before I could make myself ignore it.

Everything in me was screaming to call him but because I didn’t know what I would say to him I hesitated. All my mind could make my body focus on was the music swirling around me. It felt like a small miracle to have found it immediately after my conversation with Gavin, to have ended up on this armchair, under a crystal chandelier in the great hall of London Westfield listening to the greats; to Chopin, and Rachmaninoff, and Debussy, and Tchaikovsky. They were being played by a stranger I had never seen before and would never see again but for the last hour everything he had been telling me—everything he was saying through the notes his fingers were commanding—made sense to me. For the last hour, this had been my language, and he was the only other person in the world speaking it.

I looked back down to my phone on my lap. I knew what I had to do, but I didn’t want to. My chest hollowed, blood rushed to my feet, but my thumb was swiping across the glass surface despite the pooling dread.

Harry answered immediately.

“Hey, I've been worried, what's going on?” He urged in a hushed but desperate tone.

“I’m sorry, I'm okay,” I traced the line of my trousers with my thumbnail nervously. I wondered if Harry was at home or not.

I heard him take a deep breath, “You’re okay?” There were a few beats of silence, “Where are you,

Nina?”

“London Westfield,” I said softly.

“London ...” He paused, his voice almost sounding received for a moment like he could conjure a reason why I might have gone there, “Why are you out there?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered pathetically, but it was true. The line was silent for a few painful minutes.

"I'm confused."

"Can I come over?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Of course," he said quickly, "What's wrong, though? Has something happened?"

"I'm not crazy," I told Harry.

"You're not," Harry said carefully, I clamped my eyes shut knowing I was putting him in a shitty position, "What's happened? I'll come and pick you up."

“Harry, you don't need to—”

“—I'm already in the car," He told me, "Now, tell me what's wrong."

I let out a frustrated sigh and tears slip out despite my telling myself not to, "It's stupid."

"Not if you're this upset by it."

"I spoke to Gavin."

"You spoke to ... What? How? Where was he?"

"Not in person," I corrected Harry, I could hear the sound of his car in the background, "He called on an unknown number, and I was stupid enough to answer. I know I shouldn't have—

“—Nina, what did he say?” Harry said evenly, but the directness of the question hit me square in the chest.

"I don't want to think about it."

"I'm fifteen minutes away. Please tell me, I don't want this fucker getting between us."

Slowly, I recounted the phone conversation to Harry, who quietly listened without interrupting. It was more upsetting the second time around, I found myself unable to believe it happened. To think I had let myself be treated that way at any point was shameful and by the time I finished telling Harry, I very much wished I hadn't started.

"I'm sorry," Harry said through a sigh, "You're not crazy, and you don't owe him a thing. Did he threaten you at all?"

I thought back over it all, "No, but I don't think hanging upon him was a good idea. He'll say more online now."

"And he'll only look like a bigger dickhead," Harry grumbled, "Hanging up was the right thing to do, you don't have to listen to his shit anymore, Nina. I've just parked, where are you?"

I told Harry my location as best I could, not having to wait very long for him to appear in my line of vision behind the piano player. He spotted me almost immediately as well, his face pulled into a frowned, worried one that I felt guilty for creating. Still, there was a lifting inside my chest at seeing him. His hair was slightly damp from a shower, and he was in comfortable clothes. I stayed seated until he was a few steps away, and my name fell from his lips, then I was up on my feet and pressed against his chest within moments.

Harry's arms wound around my back, and he rested his chin on the top of my head, "You are amazing and beautiful and talented and so loved, Nina. What he says doesn't count anymore. We're going to get you a new phone number, and if he starts spurting any more shit online, we'll take things further."

"I feel so stupid," I said quietly. "How did I let Gavin into my life in the first place?"

Harry cupped my face in his hands and bent down to be at my eye level, "We're not torturing ourselves with those kinds of thoughts, Nina. We're going back to celebrating that article because I won't have you shrinking yourself because of anyone else, myself included."

I looked at him for a few moments, seeing nothing but sincerity and belief there.

"I should have called you earlier." A smile teased his lips, "Yeah, but you called me, so that's a win."

"I'm sorry."

Harry placed a soft kiss against my lips, "Not necessary. You hungry? I'll buy you chicken nuggets on the way home."

+++

Royal Festival Hall was completely sold out.

My dad organised incredible floor seats for the six of us. Harry and I met Rodger, Max, Gemma and Ned at a restaurant nearby for dinner beforehand, so by the time, we arrived for the performance we were all well into enjoying each other's company.

As we followed an usher down the aisle to be shown our seats, Harry shuffled up behind me and took my hand in his, "Did I say yet how stunning you are?"

"Yes," I kept my eyes ahead but tilted my mouth his way so I could say it quietly, "You did."

"Phew," He said dramatically, squeezing my fingers. "Just checking."

By some incredible force of nature, Harry managed to pull me from the rut I was sure I was destined for before it happened. We spent the night before, at his house, I had a bath, and we watched 101 Dalmatians afterwards, Harry gently prodding me every so often to measure where I was at. I cried a few more times, Gavin's harsh words ringing in my ears even when I woke up the next morning.

Harry dragged me out of the house early, he went for a run while I walked through the Heath loosely following him. He ran literal laps around me and despite all his best attempts, he wasn't able to convince me to join him for anything more rigorous.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, and it was time to start getting ready for dinner with my flatmates and Gemma and Ned, I felt reassured and nearly entirely back to normal. The ugliness still existed somewhere, but Harry managed to drag me into the present and firmly plant me there. Nothing Gavin had said to me changed Harry or me.

I took a quick photo of the stage from our seats and sent it through to my family group chat. Harry leaned over from his seat next to me and briefly dropped his head on my shoulder. He watched my screen as I sent my brother a rude emoji and then sent my dad a good luck text. I was beside myself with excitement at the prospect of watching him lead this calibre of an orchestra.

"Open your girls chat," Harry rumbled right by my ear. Without thinking I did as I was told, fingers hovering over the screen, waiting to see what Harry would say to me to type. "Tell them to keep the first weekend of February free, I'd like them to come down for my birthday if they'd like to."

"Harry," I turned my head to look at him, "Really?"

"Yeah," He nodded earnestly, "I haven't really planned anything yet, but I'll do something. I'd like them there."

"Not just for my sake?"

"Not just for your sake," Harry reassured, "They're your people, and so they mean a lot to me as well."

Ladies, Harry's birthday is in a few weeks, and he'd love it if you could make it?

"Tell them there'll be free accommodation, food and alcohol," He nudged me, nodding at the iMessage I just sent. "I'll pay for them to fly down if that's easier. They can stay at mine."

"You don't have to do that, Harry, they'll come down on the train."

Harry dropped his palm onto my thigh, "I don't want to put them out. And it's not cheap getting down here, I know."

All expenses covered, so he says. The first weekend in Feb. He's offering tours of his linen cupboard as well. x

Harry laughed as he read over my shoulder, "Good one."

"Thanks," I replied brightly, locking the phone after checking it was on silent and dropping it into Harry's suit pocket between us. "And thank you for inviting them ... You and them getting on is a big deal to me."

"I know."

"I've had to unpack a lot of shame after Gavin, and I've always been wary of what they might think of me seeing someone else, whether they’d trust me again," I told him.

Harry squeezed my thigh, "I'm happy you have them. They're mad about you."

"Mad is right," I rolled my eyes, "You may come to regret inviting them. Once there's an open bar, not a lot can stop Bel and Georgie."

He wriggled his eyebrows at me, "Sounds brilliant."

Just as I was about to reply the house lights dropped and a hush came over the concert hall. Before the announcements started I curled my hand around to the other side of Harry's face and directed it towards me, he had just enough time to blink down at me in the dark before I pulled him closer for a kiss.

"Thank you," I said, pressing my lips against his again, "You're magic."

He gave me a dopey smile and then took my hand in his, resting it on his thigh gently. I stole it back from him briefly a few moments later to join the applause for my dad walking out onto the stage. The suite was Haydn’s ‘An Imaginary Orchestra Journey’ by Sir Simon Rattle, and I knew it was one of his favourites. That was the benefit of being the level my father was, he could walk into the London Symphony Orchestra and tell them what to play.

The orchestra was led through a warm-up, bubbling my chest and had me wriggling in my seat in excitement. Then, my dad turned to face the audience and stepped up to the microphone.

“Good evening,” He said, “My name is Richard Lawrence, and I’m so delighted to be here on holiday with you from my home at the Chamber Orchestra of Europe,” He smiled as the room swelled into applause again, “Thank you. We have a fun one for you tonight, I know! An orchestra having fun what a scandal!” The players chuckled behind him, “We’re bringing you a selection from Franz Joseph Haydn’s best movements, compiled by my good friend Sir Simon Rattle. This is ‘An Imaginary Orchestra Journey’.”

He turned back to his orchestra and raised his arms, waiting for the applause to come to a close before he dramatically dropped his hands and picked them up again, bringing the opening notes of the suite with him.

It wasn’t a suite that I didn’t have committed to memory, so sitting and listening on almost new ears was transformative. The players were fantastic, which I already had insight into having sat in on a few rehearsals throughout the work. Soloists propped the whole body up, and I shivered my way through parts. My dad was right, though, it was a fun suite.

“This is so cool,” Harry whispered into my ear halfway through. I turned to face him, and in the dim light, he watched the tears streaming down my face, Harry’s lips curved up and he scrunched his nose at me. He took my hand in his and turned back to keep watching.

By the end of the performance, I was on my feet applauding dad with hands in the air, and my makeup all cried off. I got a wink and a wave from my dad who searched us out in the audience at final bows. Arrangements were already made about where we needed to go afterwards to meet him, given that there were so many musicians in the greenrooms going backstage was tricky, I was given instructions as to how to get into the conductor's studio.

After giving my name at a fire exit, an assistant led us through greenrooms to a back suite that sat under the stage.

"This is incredible," Harry said, stepping in behind me and taking in the room, "This is definitely one of the best green rooms I've ever been in."

"It's pretty swish," My dad said happily from the other side of the room, his suit jacket draped over the small sofa, "I suppose if I pretended it might feel quite rock and roll."

"You were amazing, dad," I told him, rushing over for a hug, "Your players were incredible, and you kept them together, magnificently."

"Thank you, my sweet," He smiled, graciously accepting repeated congratulations from everyone else. I introduced him to Gemma and Ned, who both thanked him profusely for their tickets. "Now, what are you all up to now?" Dad asked us all, "I'm getting taken out by a few of the board, and I'm sure I could bring a posse such as yourselves?"

"We need to head off, unfortunately," Gemma spoke up first, "Ned is on night shift tomorrow."

Similarly, Rodger and Max both had either early work commitments or a big day ahead of them so didn't want a late night.

"We'll come," Harry offered readily, looking down at me, "Right?"

"If it's really not an issue?" I asked.

"It's absolutely not, my dear," My dad said, "And I dare say taking you both along will impress them enough to have me easily in work for the next decade. If you can just give me fifteen minutes to change and go see my players, I'll meet you in the Foyer."

The group said their farewells and Harry, and I joined them, we stood in the foyer for a while chatting. Gemma gave me a hug with the promise of catching up during the week without the boys. Then, it was just Harry, and I left waiting in a near-empty foyer.

"I stand by my comments months ago about loving seeing you cry over music," Harry told me once we were alone, resting his elbows on the cocktail table we were sitting at, "It's magic. I adore it."

I grinned, "My crying my way through our first date does make for a good story."

"I'm disappointed not to have made you cry myself with my Christmas gig," Harry smirked at me, "I have a right mind to be offended."

"Get an orchestra behind you and I just might," I returned quickly.

+++

Four days later, Harry was standing at the front desk chatting to a receptionist when I arrived at the recording studio. She spotted me immediately, and Harry followed where her attention left him for, an instant smile appearing on his face.

“Hello!” He called out to me, pushing off where he had been comfortably leaning against the desk to take a couple of steps towards me.

“Hi,” I gushed, trumpet case under my arm and a heavy backpack from rehearsals slipping off my arm.

“Let me take that,” Harry took the bag from my shoulder and pulled me in for a hug with his other arm, “Hi,” He kissed my head, and the leant back to look at me, “You get here okay?” I’d been here before to see Rodger, but instead of pointing that out, I smiled and nodded.

“I’ve got your pass,” Harry said, whipping a lanyard out of his pocket and adorning my neck with it before he took my hand and started walking, “Thanks, Jen!” He called back over his shoulder as we left the entrance.

Harry was bringing me in to work on the song that I contributed to all those months ago. I really didn’t know what more I was expected to do, from what Harry told me about his last week or so writing it was the lyrics of the song that he was working on the most. Numerous times I’d told him I didn’t need credit, but he was adamant.

“In here,” Harry directed me to a door, and he dropped my hand to prop it open for me, “After you.”

I walked in and immediately froze, there had to be at least ten or twelve people in the room. Harry nudged me in gently, making a quip about not lurking in doorways. He walked into the left where there was a large sitting area, the studio directly in front.

“Babes,” Rodger was to the right in front of the sound desk, I recognised the tech working with him who also gave me a nod.

“Hey,” I said, siding up to Rodger but throwing a tentative look back over my shoulder where Harry was in the middle of the bulk of the people in the room. “I’m—

A warm hand slipping into mine from behind, “Neens, I want you to meet some people.”

“We’ll start soon,” Rodger told me kindly, watching as I was pulled away.

Three people were working on laptops at a small free-standing table, another two on phones sat on one of the sofas, and then three men standing. They were wearing remnants of business suits they had obviously unassembled as the day went on; cuffs were folded up, ties and jackets had been shed, and collars were undone. I wondered if Harry could feel my hands shaking from the one he was holding onto, but if he did, he didn’t let on. I tried to wear a pleasant smile, but there was a sinking feeling that I was about to find myself well out of my depth.

Harry introduced me to his manager, the head of his record label and his business manager.

I felt sick.

Harry happily went on about how excited he was for today, and how this song was probably his favourite of the bunch they were working on for release. He interrupted to add more detail to my deliberately modest answer about what my schedule was like working in a professional orchestra. I hadn’t wanted to seem like I was showing off about myself in front of these arguably more impressive people, but Harry seemed giddy on the whole exchange happening. They were all lovely to me, I expected nothing less from people had chosen to work so closely with, but still, I was intimidated beyond belief and blind-sighted by them all being there at all.

“Excuse me,” I eventually managed to be courageous enough to say, “I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll—

—I know where it is, Harry,” I squeezed his arm, “I’ll be right back.”

I hurried out the room, and a little way down the hall before stopping at a small bench pushed up against the wall. I sat down slowly and rested my head back against the wall. I completely missed the sound of someone following me until I felt the cushion of the seat expand as Rodger sat down too.

“Really had your skates on getting out there,” He said evenly, “Everything okay?”

I pointed back to the studio a few metres away, “The head of his fucking label is in that room.”

Rodger’s expression softened, “He’s not here to intimidate you, Nina. They’re checking in on how recording is going and Harry wanted them to meet you.”

“Who the hell even has a business manager, Rodger?” I added quickly.

Rodger smiled, “Someone who’s in Harry’s position who cares about his career and the careers of the people who work for him.”

“I really don’t know why I’m here,” I hissed at Rodger. “All I did was change the key and alter a melody, and now I’m supposed to what? Pull a pop song out of my arse in front of a room full of people?”

“You fixed a dying song, Nina,” Rodger didn’t blink at my freak out, “The song is yours as far as Harry is concerned, it would be locked on a hard drive somewhere without you. Just because it feels like breathing to you doesn’t mean it’s not miraculous to the rest of us. I could never have done what you did, and neither could Harry. The song wasn’t going to exist and so if it’s going to it’s only right that you oversee it.”

“I don’t even remember what I did.”

“Liar,” Rodger shot back, “You could play it perfectly with your eyes closed, even if you haven’t thought of it since that day. Don’t bullshit me about forgetting a song, you couldn’t if you tried.”

“I’m just a trumpet player from Blackpool,” I said softly, “What am I doing here?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” He replied, “I understand Harry’s team being here is daunting, but we’re gonna go back in there, you’re going to sit in front of the piano and look super cute in the headphones, and it’ll just be you and me at the desk, got it?”

I shut my eyes and nodded, “Don’t let me look bad.”

“That would be impossible,” Rodger stood up, and when I opened my eyes, he was holding a hand down for me. "C'mon."

I let him pull me to my feet and accepted the hug he held his arms out for, "I need to do a nervous wee."

"Off you go then," Rodger chuckled, "I'll get started setting things up in there."

After using the bathroom, I spent a few moments inspecting myself in the bathroom mirror, and I decided I didn’t look half as frazzled as I felt. An excited but sickening churning in my stomach was somehow disconnected from the thoughts in my head telling me making music with Harry was going to be a good thing, probably even a great thing.

So, taking stumbled steps and breathing in almost too deeply, I fisted my hands and placed one leg in front of the other. By the time I was down the corridor and at the door to the studio, I was breathing evenly, and my stomach felt more settled than it had all day.

I walked straight in, and as I passed Rodger at the sound desk I pointed in at the piano, he nodded without removing his headphones and waved me to go in.

The studio air was fresh, but the unmistakable smell of instruments filled my lungs. I stretched my fingers out as I approached the grand piano over to one side and sat down at the stool, pushing it in further so I could reach the peddles comfortably.

"Hear me?" Rodger asked through the set when I put the headphones over my head.

I held up a thumb his way.

"Brill," He said, "Take a few to get settled, and I'll corral the troops out here."

I stared at the keys for a brief moment before placing my fingers across them, fanning through a quiet set of scales and experimenting with how sensitive the keys were when I built the volume. The sound was beautiful, almost as beautiful as the baby grand at my parent's house. I closed my eyes and played around with a few melodies, humming where I thought a voice might sit above them.

"Rodger," I said, waiting for him to look up through the glass window, "Can I open the cover?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I'll come help, it's heavy."

He shuffled into the room a moment later, flipping a few clasps around the piano and then counting down so we could lift it in time.

"Thanks," I sat back down and played a series of major seventh chords to test out how the sound changed.

"What are you thinking? We going to get into piano bashing?" Rodger asked, crossing his arms over his chest and watching my hands.

"Not quite that extreme," I frowned and leaned forward to reach for the treble strings in front of me, "I think harmonic upper partials would give a raspy, ghosty sound that fits though, right? Like having violins without having to deal with violin players."

Rodger laughed at my dig, and I grinned at him, playing the melody from Harry's song while gently touching the overtone positions on the strings of the corresponding keys. A completely different sound filled the studio.

"That sounds sick," Harry appeared next to Rodger and peered into the piano cavity to see what my hands were doing. "Are you allowed to do that?"

"You are if you're Nina," Rodger hit Harry affectionately on the shoulder and then walked away citing a need to finish setting something up.

I stopped my experimenting and sat back on the piano seat, watching Harry watch me.

"Songs about pianos," He signalled softly.

I smiled at him and quickly found the opening chords of the first song that came into my head, "The piano is not firewood yet, they try to remember but still they forget that the heart beats in threes, just like a waltz and nothing can stop you from dancing."

When I paused and raised an eyebrow at him in a challenge, Harry arched his back to belt out his offering, "It's nine o'clock on a Saturday!"

"Stop! Wait," I laughed, ghosting the piano keys to find where I needed to start, "Let me play you an intro."

I played the intro to the iconic Billy Joel song once through and nodded Harry in when he needed to sing, he was smiling the whole time and miming having a harmonica up to his mouth. I stopped after the chorus and pulled my hands away from the key, wondering if this was how his time with Rodger usually went. I didn't like the thought I could be inserting myself as a silly distraction.

"Nerves flushed out?" Harry asked, showing more astuteness to where my head was at than I had given him credit for.

"Tell me where you're at with the song," I prompted him quietly, shuffling to one side of my seat and opening a space for him to join me.

"Well," Harry started, his thigh nestling warmly against mine, "I've completely rewritten the second verse and bridge—

—Tell me about it in terms of the music," I nudged my elbow into his side, "I don't do lyrics."

"Oh," He parroted, and then laughed at himself, "Right. Of course, well ... I'd like it to sound ... Hopeful?"

"So, we'll do a build," I suggested. "You're a guitar man, so I guess you'd—

—I think I want to just have the piano?"

"Just piano?" I questioned.

"Maybe not just piano," Harry swallowed slowly, "But just not be guitar-heavy. I'd like to include some ... Other instruments, I think."

"Other instruments?" I asked, amused by how hesitant he was with the term, his cheeks reddened when he realised I was mildly teasing him for his apprehension. "You don't have to do that because I'm here."

"Play it where we left it last time," Harry nodded at my hands, he cleared his throat and hummed for half a second before singing along with what I had started playing.

He sang in his chest voice, low and sweet with chilling resonance. It was truly beautiful, and I smiled at the way each line of the lyrics played perfectly into the next. Harry closed his eyes as I played into a pre-chorus of sorts, barely reaching to effortlessly switch up to his head voice for the end of each line. I watched him, so I knew when to extend the phrase or move to match his pitch, but Harry kept his eyes closed while he sang.

It wasn't until he fumbled over two lines in a row that he stopped and gave me a bashful smile, "I don't think what I rewrote fits. Let me go get my notebook and—Hey!"

I looked up toward the window to see who had earned Harry's light whine. There was a line of people at the window watching Harry and me at the piano. His manager gave Harry two thumbs up, but Harry flipped them all the bird as he joined them in the room to collect what he needed to continue.

"That sounded great," Rodger walked over to me and then launched into a whole bunch of the technical aspects of what we were about to start doing. A lot of it made sense, and I had been exposed to before, but I had questions about specific parts that he was patient in answering.

When Harry came back, he settled himself off to my left, where the recording mic was set up. He left the room again and returned with a pitcher of water and two glasses, placing it on the floor between us without saying a word. I watched him take a sip and then stepped up to the mic and slip on his own set of headphones.

"Okay, Nina," Rodger said to us through the glass again, "I've got the automatic transcription program on you, so we'll be getting the melodies down in real-time. I know," He assured me before I could protest, "You'll be able to manually edit things after. On the dark side, we're more about the recording than having a perfect transcription, yeah?"

"I didn't say a thing," I mumbled, embarrassed.

"Harry, mate," Rodger addressed him, "Let's go right through once, doesn't matter if we miss bits. Just give Nina the chance to play it out, and by the second take she'll be set."

"That's annoyingly impressive," Harry told him, adjusting where his headphones sat, "Is there a support group you can recommend?"

"I can hear you both."

"I'll get Max to put you on the mailing list," Rodger promised Harry, setting up a click track to guide our timing but then turning it right down so I could only just hear it.

Harry continued to banter with Rodger as the sound was tested, "Good, I'm going to need maximum support," he spoke into the microphone. "Test, this is a test. I am testing the microphone."

Rodger gave Harry a thumbs up and told me to play something on the piano so he could alter the levels on the boom mics positioned over the open cover. To spite them both, I started tapping out the basic tune of Ode to Joy, not looking at either of them as I did so.

I heard Rodger laugh through the headset, and Harry clapped beside me, "Genius at work."

While they both still were laughing, I switched to Mozart's Sonata No. 17, which shut them up very quickly. I looked over at Harry and gave him a smug smile as I played without hesitation or missing a note. He tried to hold my gaze, but his eyes zeroed in on my hands and were transfixed by their movements. I stopped playing abruptly, and he playfully narrowed his eyes at me.

"Yes?" I asked him sweetly.

"Put him in his place, he's a shit, Nina," Another voice spoke up.

Harry and I looked up to find his manager at the glass with a headset on, "You've never spoken wearing that before!"

"I've never felt the need to," was the reply to Harry's exclamation. "You usually behave yourself."

+++

Two and a half hours later, we had a song.

"It's beautiful," I wound my arms around Harry's waist where he had me tucked under his arm. My fingers played with the cords of our headphones where we stood together, listening to a rough cut of just Harry's isolated vocals.

"Give me a second," Rodger said, distracted by trying to layer the piano and backing vocals over Harry's track."Everyone ready?"

Most of Harry's team left throughout the afternoon, the people on phones and laptops had gone as well as the label head. Harry's manager, business manager and a videographer remained. His manager stood and came over to the desk, but the other two stayed seated on the sofa.

"Okay," Rodger decided he was sorted, clicking on his screen back to the start and pressing play.

Harry tugged the ends of my hair, ghosting his fingers up and down my neck as the opening notes filled our ears. We stood together behind Rodger sitting at the sound desk, the song playing out where we had grown used to hearing sections cut up and altered what felt like a hundred times over.

In the end, Harry hadn't entirely stayed true to his 'piano only' idea, I had managed to convince him to add in some strings which were computerised for now but would be live recorded down the track. We also ended up with bass drums to help with the build to the bridge. Throughout the afternoon, the piano part had been stripped back because I refused to let Harry's gorgeous lyrics drown in a sea of complicated notes and melodies.

The end result was a haunting but euphoric song that took Harry out of his comfort zone and showcased the raspiness and dimension of his voice. It was hopeful like he hoped earlier it would be, but it also gave voice to a vulnerable side of him. It wasn't a song with a strong personal narrative, he had written on the universal truth of life and love and the simplicity behind humanity that we rarely pay mind to.

The song ended, and Rodger slowly turned back to us, his face immediately lit up, "Look at you both!"

"What?" I sniffed, bringing the sleeve of my jumper up to my face, I craned my neck to look at Harry who had his hand covering his mouth.

When he looked down at me, Harry's eyes were wet, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. We both took in each other's faces and then started laughing. I hadn't seen Harry have such an emotional reaction to music, but I knew exactly what he was thinking about mine.

"I see tears, I've done it!" Harry did a little fist punch with his free arm.

"Excuse me," I cried out, "I cry all the damn time if anything I'm the one who's 'done it'. Look at you, you're a mess!"

"It's catching," Harry replied simply, leaning down to press one kiss on my cheek, "Thank you," he said to just me.

"The song is gorgeous," I told him.

"It sure is," He confirmed with an edge of wonder in his voice.

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