#bitch if you were willing to sacrifice them two seconds ago why not now

[diskusaurus]

My biggest issue in Epic the Musical is Odysseus, actually. In this essay, I will....

[melatovnik]

ok ur top faves wangxian fics go

hey yati! 🥰️

alright, so first things first, here’s a big wangxian fic rec list i made a while ago, if you wanna check that one out too! consider the list below part 2. these are all my faves so far since my last rec list (as you'll quickly see, i have a LOT of faves).

and just a fyi/psa/disclaimer for anyone reading this: some of these fics have disturbing themes and/or kinky/freaky sex! make sure to check the authors’ tags and notes before reading. also, much like my first rec list, there’s going to be a mix of mdzs and cql canon, characterizations, dynamics, etc., so bear that in mind.

....ok GO

live from new york by varnes | rated E | 87K words | THE snl au fic!!!! yes, by snl i mean saturday night live. this is perhaps the best and funniest story i've ever read, period. varnes is a fucking genius. read this fic.

Wei Ying lets out a long, ugly groan. “I am fine, Lan Zhan. Everybody is overreacting, it’s so embarrassing for all of you.”

“You had undiagnosed pneumonia, which you walked around with for weeks until you passed out during dress,” Lan Wangji corrects him. “It got a big laugh, until everyone thought you were dead.”

He keeps his voice even and does not tell Wei Ying that it had been Lan Wangji who caught him, who called the ambulance, and who rode with him to the hospital, where he was yelled at by nurses who wanted to know why he hadn’t noticed that Wei Ying couldn’t stop shivering or string proper sentences together.

“Rumors of my demise have been vastly overstated,” Wei Ying says. “Anyway, I’m already feeling much better. Basically fine. Really almost completely back to normal, so stop babying me and tell me why the fuck you let your stupid brother hire the worst man in the world to host our show.”

-

OR: the one where they all work at SNL, Yanli's ex-boyfriend is hosting, and that's just the beginning of everybody's problems.

swiss cheese theory by varnes | rated M | 19K words | sequel to snl au fic!!!!!! another must-read.

The Swiss Cheese model of accident causation likens human system defences to a series of slices of randomly-holed Swiss Cheese arranged vertically and parallel to each other with gaps in-between each slice. Defences against failure are modelled as a series of barriers, represented as slices of the cheese. The holes in the cheese slices represent individual weaknesses in individual parts of the system. The system as a whole produces failures when holes in all of the slices momentarily align, permitting "a trajectory of accident opportunity," so that a hazard passes through holes in all of the defences, leading to an accident.

OR: Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian go to the courthouse.

OR: “Sweethearts,” the city clerk had said, very gently, “you’re already married.”

best friends forever by varnes | rated T | 17K words | alright, so like, strictly speaking, wangxian isn't the focus of this fic, BUT. this fic is so good!! it is seriously so good, and it made me fall in love with jin ling/lan jingyi. also, it's varnes, so read it!

It happened like this: Jin Ling was a sect leader now, which was, and Jingyi really meant this, fucking hilarious. There were few things funnier, in his honest opinion.

Because he was young, and inexperienced, and also — it had to be said — a real shithead, there was apparently some belief amongst his advisors that the best way forward, to promote the picture of a stable, mature sect leader who absolutely did not cry at the drop of a hat, was for Jin Ling to get married.

-

OR: Jin Ling and Jingyi get engaged.

Things spiral from there.

For a Good Time, Call by ScarlettStorm | rated E | 171K words

The picture is of Wei Ying, that much is clear. It’s of a lot more of Wei Ying than Lan Zhan is used to seeing. He supposes that, technically, Wei Ying is dressed. It’s a bare technicality, since one of Wei Ying’s hands has rucked up his black tank top practically to his collarbone, showing a long expanse of abdomen and one nipple. Sweat beads on his sternum, catching the light like jewels. His other hand is--Lan Zhan feels his eyes widen, as though unable to look away from a train wreck--on his hip, one thumb tugging down the waistband of a pair of red briefs. Wei Ying is biting his lower lip and looking directly into the camera, sultry, his eyes dark and inviting. His erection is obvious, outlined against the red of the briefs and framed carefully with the hand on his hip. Lan Zhan’s brain goes wildly, screamingly blank.

Or: Lan Zhan accidentally finds his best friend's OnlyFans account and has an ongoing emotional crisis.

love, in fire and blood by cicer | rated E | 360K words | i actually haven't finished this one since i was reading it when it was a WIP, i need to reread it and catch up fjdskl;fjsd, but i love it very much!!!!!! oh my god he wanted to look nice for his husband..... 🙃 [screams with mouth closed]

"You want Wen Ruohan dead," the Patriarch continued idly. "You want his corpse puppets eliminated. You want his halls burned to the ground and his soldiers disemboweled and begging for mercy. Have I about covered it?"

He gave another knife-edged smile.

"But what will you give me in return?"

"We would be willing to offer quite a bit in return for Wen Ruohan's defeat," Lan Xichen admitted. "But I'm afraid we don't know what an immortal such as yourself desires. Please advise us."

The Patriarch waved at hand at the front of the tent. "I want Second Young Master Lan."

(In which the Sunshot Campaign ends through an arranged marriage to the Yiling Patriarch, and Lan Wangji suffers the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with his own husband.)

how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat) by bwyn & Yuisaki | rated T | 55K words

A new plan hatches in Wei Wuxian’s head. If this nocturnal, bottom-feeding, slimy, invasive mudcat posing as a beautiful actor thinks he can sway Wei Wuxian with animal pictures and a sob story and an unbelievably stilted way of texting with still no dick pictures in the first five minutes of conversation, he has another thing coming. Wei Wuxian’s got it, alright, he has this in the fucking bag.

~

Wei Wuxian plots to expose a catfish using strategic memes and turtle pictures while wiggling his way out of family dinner. Lan Wangji just wants companions.

there’s no promised goodbye here by Yuisaki | rated T | 54K words

Jiang Cheng stares at him. “Didn’t you say you broke up five months ago?”

“Yeah.”

“So why do you have a picture of you two kissing taped to your fridge?”

“Because we’re too broke for magnets,” Wei Wuxian explains, then considers that statement. “Well, I’m too broke for magnets. Lan Zhan probably refuses to buy them because he’s trying to have lofty ideas about the moral failings of materialism.”

~

Wei Wuxian navigates the trials of living with his ex-boyfriend in apartment 1301.

paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 | rated E | 54K words

To say that he runs to his car would be incorrect, as he is a Lan, and running is both undignified and unnecessary unless in immediate danger. Nor does he slam his key into the ignition, or aggressively swerve around the cars on the freeway, or have a mild panic attack at the fact he is picking A-Yuan up late from school for the first time ever.

He comes close, though.

By the time he arrives, it’s 4:35PM, and he has imagined about fifty different worse-case scenarios. The door is partly open when he gets to it, a messy label of 104B—Art Room scrawled with chalk on a placard next to the faded wood. As he opens it fully, he expects to see a wailing, terrified child, or perhaps a scene of utter misery and betrayal.

What he finds is his son, hands covered in paint, being sung to by a beautiful, dark-haired stranger.

“Ducks live in the pond, yellow ducks, happy ducks!”

Lan Wangji stops in his tracks.

(Or: Falling in love with your son’s art teacher, in five parts)

a paper friend by sunzu | rated G | 5K words

Lan Wangji finds a paperman far from its body and helps get it home.

-Or-

Lan Wangji unknowingly meets Wei Wuxian for the first time.

All Caught Up by brooklinegirl | rated E | 37K words

"Betrothed," Wei Ying says indignantly.

Lan Wangji can't stop his gaze from darting up to him. Wei Ying understands. Wei Ying is looking at him, wide-eyed and upset on his behalf.

"And you don't even like her," Wei Ying says.

"I don't even know her," Lan Wangji says quietly.

"But even if you did—" Wei Ying starts.

"I wouldn't want this," Lan Wangji finishes.

Lead Me On Through by mrsronweasley | rated E | 55K words | oh look another canon-era practice kissing fic fjdskfl;ds

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

I Started From the Bottom/And Now I'm Rich by x_los | rated E | 58K words | ok so i know that in my spiel above i said to mind the tags, etc., but actually pay no mind to the first two relationship tags for this fic. i PROMISE that this isn't that sort of dead dove fic fjdksl;fjs;lifkj. i. it. it's wangxian. don't sweat it. don't even trip. just—this fic fucking rules. it's completely insane and it slaps. wei ying is a girlboss and a bitch and i like her So Much

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

rather cruelly used and rather reserved by x_los | rated M | 14K words

In the month between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian leaving Yi City and their attending the cultivation conference in Lanling, Wei Wuxian discovers a locked room in the Jingshi. It is a mystery that clever and curious Wei Wuxian is doing everything in his power to avoid solving.

But the rose was awake all night for your sake/Knowing your promise to me by x_los | rated E | 8K words | resentment tenties~

The resentful energy occupying Wei Wuxian's body like an enemy army is very interested in giving him Lan Wangji, tied up with a bow.

Wei Wuxian is hoping that Lan Wangji (who is far too noble and very keen to save Wei Wuxian's misguided soul) doesn't find out about any aspect of that.

Mo Money, Mo Problems by x_los | rated M | 3K words

After the Mo family perishes in distressing and mysterious circumstances, Wei Wuxian, still reeling from his reincarnation, tries to dip back into their manor for a little travelling money. (Forward planning! What a concept!) Lan Wangji catches him immediately, and is highly unimpressed (read: furious) with Wei Wuxian’s decision to run away from him in the first place.

Standing Engagement by x_los | rated M | 18K words

Lan Wangji believes he and Wei Wuxian are essentially engaged. While they search for his missing betrothed, he accidentally reveals as much to Jiang Wanyin. Now everyone in the cultivation world knows about the imminent marriage, except for Wei Wuxian himself.

Coming Back to Yourself by acernor | rated E | 22K words | genital swapping for fun and nonprofit!

Lan Wangji gets cursed with a ~woman's body~ and has to orgasm to go back. Since he's 1) a virgin 2) super repressed and 3) SUPER gay, he has no idea what to do.

If only he had a super nosy friend who's read lots of erotic novels who could help him figure out what to do... hm...

Save a Sword by etymologyplayground | rated E | 5K words | a fic inspired by the above fic!

Lan WangJi presses a kiss into his throat, which draws a shivering whine from him. "Like this," he agrees, his voice so low. Then he slides one warm elegant hand down Wei WuXian's chest to his belly, and then to his — to his —

--

fan ending for acernor's fabulous masterpiece "coming back to yourself" because i'm a huge goofball and that fic fucks

Our Eyes on the Road by etymologyplayground | rated E | 23K words | brought to you by lore (the author) and Orville Peck's hit song Drive Me, Crazy

Lan Zhan is silent for a long moment, and the van's speakers quietly pipe the second song on the album into the empty space between them. Then Lan Zhan shifts his hand a little on Wei Ying's leg, presses his fingers once into the meat of his thigh. "Alright," he says.

"Alright," Wei Ying echoes in a wheeze.

"Is that better?" Lan Zhan checks, because he is a good boy. Then he spreads his fingers out a little wider, because he is evil and must be stopped.

-

Lan Zhan is driving to Chicago. Wei Ying tags along.

Worship you till morning comes by feyburner | rated E | 7K words

A meet-cute, a first date, a sleepover.

Let's take a ride round the curves of desire by feyburner | rated E | 6K words | yeah........... uhh, yeah.

Wei Ying was sprawled on the floor in front of the oscillating fan when Lan Zhan got home from work.

The Roots Grow Riotous by hansbekhart | rated E | 105K words | a beautifully crafted, emotionally harrowing fic. i should warn you (since it's not quite tagged as such) that while wangxian is endgame, the overall story doesn't have the sort of happily-ever-after ending you might expect. i’ve seen it described as open-ended but hopeful and cathartic, which i find to be a pretty accurate assessment

Sometimes Lan Zhan doesn’t work through lunch. Sometimes he makes conversation with coworkers in the halls. Sometimes he goes home instead of spending the last hour trawling through Grindr. But mostly, that’s exactly what he does. The sameness is comforting. His life spools out in easily measured increments: capsule collections, yards of hand dyed textiles, ninety day lead times, sell through figures, cost of goods sold.

Every date in manufacturing can be calculated backwards and forward from a single horizon point: the date that the goods must arrive into the country where they'll be sold. Other than that, nothing else really matters.

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie | rated E | 76K words | i can't recall a fic ever affecting me as much as this one did. one of the best stories i've ever read. so, so, so crushingly beautiful. it's viscerally distressing/upsetting at times, especially at the start, so please heed the tags and author's note (they provide a way to skip the beginning scene if needed)!

That’s just the thing, isn’t it? Wei Ying feels nothing. He doesn’t feel anything, and this emptiness should scare him. He knows he should be scared. He wants to be scared. He isn’t. Fear itself is never scary; fear is just a response. It means that your body wants you alive. It’s the absence of terror that scares him.

请兔子吃晚饭; treating a bunny to dinner by yiqie | rated T | 3K words | read this one to recover from the above fic

It’s not really about the food. Being able to share it in the same space is its own kind of magic.

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie | rated E | 69K words | and then read this one to feel harrowed again, this time in canon-verse!

Wei Wuxian has certainly hoped so ardently in his two lifetimes, for so many different things, in so many different ways, that he could have summoned the demon to his front door with his bare hands. His eyes wander to Lan Zhan, settle on the back of his head, the blue-black curtain of his hair. Oh, how he has hoped.

在此恭迎夷陵老祖; to yiling laozu, the great and venerable by yiqie | rated M | 7K words | read this one to recover from the above fic (this time in canon-verse)

“You don’t know? In Yiling, there’s a tree at the edge of town, one that stands at the fringes of where the city ends and the Burial Mounds begin, called the Lover’s Tree. They say if you write a letter and nail it to its branches, Yiling Laozu will receive it, and he’ll reply.”

你的阳光下; wanna hide in your light by yiqie | rated T | 2K words | :')

Lan Zhan shuts off the water before it can start getting cold, because Wei Ying still needs to take one. Any other day, Wei Ying would have slunk in, pretending to be annoyed that Lan Zhan started without him, and neither of them would have want for hot water, but Wei Ying is still asleep.

From my heart's ground. by orange_crushed | rated E | 38K words | get (orange) CRUSHED!!!!!!!

After a while he can feel a palm against his face, gentle fingers soft and soothing. It’s not real, not exactly: he can tell the difference between a ghost’s touch and a living person’s, between a spirit-vision and an overactive imagination. His education has been thorough. But the beating has also been thorough, so for now he forgets what he knows and leans into it, into the hand cupping his cheek. It’s soft and dry as those forgotten petals, as the touch of a pillow. He can smell wildflowers, can taste blood and dirt. My baby, his mother says, and he closes his eyes. My treasure. He barely remembers the sound of her voice, but the feeling of it is just the same. Just the same as ever.

[In which Lan Wangji loses almost everything, plants a garden, and grows a second chance.]

Pentimento. by orange_crushed | rated E | 73K words | this fic briefly gave me a serious case of career envy :/ ......but seriously, this is an absolute must-read!!!

When Wangji was eighteen he’d walked into the first class of his fall semester painting module and there’d been a boy in a hilariously ugly floppy knit hat sitting cross-legged on the floor at the front of the room. He’d had a sheet of canvas paper taped to his board and his board clamped between his legs and a tackle box of brushes and tubes—a real fishing tackle box, with a fish-shaped logo on it that said BASS, not one of the nice art supply storage boxes they sold in the campus bookstore, like the one Wangji was carrying—open beside him. Everyone else had settled into the rows of stools and easels, but that boy had stayed on the floor for the whole two hour and thirty minute studio. Wangji had looked at him and thought, that idiot’s back is going to hurt.

[Former best friends Lan Wangji, paintings conservator, and Wei Wuxian, art handler, meet again and realize... neither of them were actually in unrequited love.]

Many happy returns. by orange_crushed | rated E | 25K words

His fingers are still clasped between Wangji's. In the mirror Wangji watches him tuck his coat between his thighs so that he can fuss with the tucked-in hem of his shirt, tousle up the side of his hair, all one-handed. "I hope what I'm wearing is okay."

"It's good," Wangji says. "You look good."

"I guess I must," Wei Ying says, and then he smiles and bites his teeth into his bottom lip for a second, devastatingly, and before Wangji can drop dead the doors to the elevator slide open, and the hostess station appears.

[In which lonely businessman Lan Wangji meets the right wrong person and changes the course of his life.]

The dreamers. by orange_crushed | rated E | 17K words

“Stop mothering me,” Wei Ying protests. “Why don’t you ever listen?” He scowls at Wangji, but then the lure of the clean water is too much; he sits grumbling and strips off his vambraces and loosens the collar of his robes and wipes himself down in the steam. Wangji sits on a stool and watches him, and after a while Wei Ying slaps the rag into the bowl and glares back. “Are you going to sit and stare the whole time?” he demands. “You want to see me strip naked and give my filthy evil self a good scrubbing, huh?”

Yes, Wangji thinks.

[This is a story about a horrible war and a beautiful dream; about grabbing happiness where you can find it, and not letting go.]

mercy, tear it down. by orange_crushed | rated E | 31K words

“You want me to call you good?” Wangji says. “To make you feel good?” Wei Ying makes a wretched, soft, surprised sound in the back of his throat. “Then will you be good?”

“Uh,” Wei Ying says. His lashes flick down again, nervously. “Good how?”

Wangji hasn’t quite thought that far ahead.

Kingfisher Feathers by Anonymous | rated E | 83K words | WIP (7/10 chapters, last updated 4/13/21) | omg omegaverse!!!! @/ this anon author... keep up the great work! also i have feelings for u

With an almost trance-like detachment, Wei Wuxian touched his own neck, his fingers skimming over the fresh mark. The bite wound had stopped bleeding, although he had no doubts it would open again if agitated.

Bonded.

He was bonded for life.

"Shit," he whispered. He looked over at the sleeping form of Lan Wangji—the Second Prince of Gusu and, until his brother was found, the sole heir to the throne. "Oh, shit. Lan Qiren is going to kill me."

----------

Lan Wangji goes into a fevered rut and accidentally bonds with Wei Wuxian. When they next meet, he remembers none of it, and Wei Wuxian is determined to keep the bond a secret—even when he's sent to the Cloud Recesses to be a consort in Lan Wangji's harem.

(tl;dr concubine!wwx is already married to emperor!lwj, who has no idea. drama ensues.)

Pull out game weak by 74243 | rated E | 23K words | featuring the hottest meanest dom top lesbian lwj of your wildest dreams. i hope ao3 user 74243 is having an amazing day

Wei Ying swipes right.

Extra Time by Anonymous | rated E | 28K words | fic inspired by the above fic! seriously good

How Wei Ying learned to stop worrying and love the strap (an AU of 74243's Pull out game weak)

Superfan by 74243 | rated E | 19K words | ao3 user 74243 writing banger after banger as per usual

“I’m not going to apologize for my job,” Wei Ying said, “so if you want to give me some kind of lecture--”

“No,” Lan Zhan said. “You misunderstood. I am...” she paused, as if considering the best way to put it. “I’m a fan.”

Spit in my mouth, look in my eyes by 74243 | rated E | 7K works | i'm just going to list all of ao3 user 74243's fics, ok? that's what's gonna happen here

Wei Wuxian was a little surprised herself, although she felt bad for being surprised. Of course it didn’t really mean anything about you, how you presented, Wei Wuxian knew that better than anyone, but all the same it was hard to reconcile Lan Zhan as an omega.

(wwx makes an error of judgment)

If the shoe fits by 74243 | rated E | 8K words

Wei Ying loses a bet.

the And they were roommates series by 74243 | rated E | 19K words total

That was the other thing, when Wei Ying had moved in. She’d scented Lan Zhan immediately, the sandalwood and smoke rising off her, almost before she’d taken in Lan Zhan’s straight posture, her narrowed eyes. She’d known that Lan Zhan could tell, too. At the end, when they’d talked about the rent and Lan Zhan’s nearly finished PhD and Wei Ying’s working hours, Wei Ying had said, casual and effortless, “And you don’t mind that I’m an omega.”

“No,” Lan Zhan said.

Chef's kiss by 74243 | rated E | 7K words

Wei Ying said, “You know, in some ways I’m kind of depressed. I took your biggest dick on my first try. Now I don’t have anything to build up to.”

“There are bigger ones available,” Lan Zhan said lazily. “I can pay for express shipping.”

(Lan Zhan works the late shift.)

Gold-palmed Warrior Quest! by 74243 | rated E | 13K words

When Lan Wangji suggested that they camp along the way to the Unclean Realm, rather than staying at inns, Wei Wuxian had been sceptical.

Dway! by 74243 | rated E | 6K words

“Hm,” Wei Ying said. “You like it rough, though, right? You seem like that kind of alpha.” When she saw Lan Zhan’s expression she raised an eyebrow. “What? Was I wrong? Are you tender and sweet? Do you cry?”

“You were not wrong,” Lan Zhan said. “I do not cry. Do you?”

tgif by 74243 | rated E | 17K words

Today Lan Zhan says that if Wei Ying cannot control her mouth then she will have to tape it shut.

On the ground by 74243 | rated E | 5K words

“I think you will like it,” Lan Zhan said.

Does your mother know by 74243 | rated E | 5K words | editing this rec list on a monday morning to add this brand new fic fresh off the presses. thank u ao3 user 74243 for feeding us so well 🙏

“Lan Zhan is such a well-behaved girl,” Madam Yu said.

all that and more by Euphorion | rated E | 20K words

Wei Wuxian locks his phone and puts it down, blinks at his ceiling, and picks it up again. The pictures are still there.

His first thought is that Lan Zhan meant them for someone else. That he just woke up at—he checks the timestamp—6:30 am on a Sunday and decided to go absolute full nuclear seduction option on some poor boy he met on Grindr, who would now be missing out on the best thing to ever happen to him because Wei Wuxian had a bad habit of distracting—of—oh.

Pieces of last night start to resurface and paste themselves together in his head. He winces.

The Golden Cutsleeve by syrus_jones | rated E | 77K words | of my faves, this is one of my favorite... faves. top faves. incredibly fun and silly and hot. just... oh my GOD, wei YING!

“I know! Why don’t you try it? Let me go and I’ll lend it to you!” Wei Wuxian bribed hysterically, desperate to escape from this encounter by any means necessary. And then, his eyes blew wide, realizing what he just said. ‘Wait— just what am I offering Lan Zhan?!’ he thought. How was he so stupid, how did he just offer that without thinking—

“You want me...to use it… after you?” Lan Zhan asked, his voice unusually faint.

~*~

Wei Wuxian's test of mysterious, literally magical sex toy goes awry when Lan Wangji finds him in the woods 'experimenting' with it and it ends up in Lan Wangji's possession.

Unfortunately, neither of them is aware that the toy is anchored to Wei Wuxian's body. Too bad Wei Wuxian invited him to try it.

Boy Trouble, We've Got Double by saltyfeathers | rated E | 60K words | !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is a really good fic

Lan Zhan stands there in his immaculate, cloud-patterned Lan robes, watching him calmly, one fist tucked up against his back. “I am betrothed.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “Are you…” He tries to laugh. Again, it sounds inhuman. “Is this about last night? Are you mad at me? I only remember some of it, Lan Zhan. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’m sure whatever I did I was just—” He gestures uselessly. He remembers being warm in Lan Zhan’s lap. He remembers fitting snugly in Lan Zhan’s lap. Wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck. Nosing at his jaw. “…playing around.”

“This has nothing to do with you, Wei Wuxian.”

none in the forest so bright as these by saltyfeathers | rated E | 6K words

Wei Wuxian puts a hand to his head, brain lost in fog. “Lan Zhan,” he pants. “Why are we here? Are we on a hunt?”

As Lan Zhan tries to remember, his brow furrows. He shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know.”

“This is bad,” Wei Wuxian says. When Lan Zhan cups his cheek again, sparks burst behind Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “Or maybe it’s not,” he says unthinkingly. Sighs, almost. Lan Zhan looks at his own arm like it's betrayed him. Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and presses his face into Lan Zhan’s palm. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he murmurs. “What’s happening to us?”

out in the garden, there’s things you hid away by saltyfeathers | rated E | 121K words | oww oww oww 😣😣😣💘

There is a man with empty eye sockets and tears of fire in Wei Wuxian’s dreams. Tendrils of smoke curl around him in sleep, pressing at his most vulnerable spots, seeking entrance, slipping between his ribs.

When he ignores Lan Zhan's offers of help, he declines rapidly. He will die. Or, he should. Anyone else would.

Instead, he flees. And transforms.

crawling through your door by saltyfeathers | rated E | 12K words

Lan Wangji kisses him. When he pulls away, he speaks into the silence between them, because when he is with Wei Ying, he so rarely considers. “Why don’t you touch me anymore?”

Lan Zhan Works for the Historical Society by saltyfeathers | rated E | 7K words | some real real good lesbian action up in here

Pretty Lan Zhan. Beautiful Lan Zhan. Ice queen Lan Zhan. So intimidating and femme and coldly polite in public, yet meaner than a man in the bedroom. Wei Ying has slept with men before and none of them were mean-nice to her like Lan Zhan.

threadfic by saltyfeathers | not rated (each chapter rated/tagged individually) | 34K+ words | WIP (11/? chapters, last updated 3/15/21), but it’s a collection of stand-alone oneshots

semi cleaned-up wangxian twitter threadfic.

【已經打動我的心】So Sing To Me All Night by aroceu | rated T | 10K words | arrow writes wei ying so exquisitely well. i was weepy the whole time read this fic. for the best experience, i recommend following along with the accompanying spotify playlist.

No one listens to the radio in this day and age, but somehow from a bunch of left clicking and right clicking, through Facebook and Twitter and Youtube, Wei Ying finds himself on the WQHS homepage—the UPenn student radio station, promising eclectic tastes from a variety of hosts. Wei Ying can't remember giving a shit about his old college's student radio before he dropped out, but it's eleven at night and he has nothing else better to do. He clicks on the button that says Listen Here! and waits to be impressed.

get wild by aroceu | rated E | 24K words | 🔥🏀🔥 BASKETBALL FIC 🔥🏀🔥

He was looking for a specific reaction—to get Lan Zhan to lash out. All hard edges and demanding, the same way during the first scrim, Lan Zhan's dark voice had made him loose and obedient, itching to both rebel and obey at the same time.

It's them, whatever it is, but it doesn't belong on the basketball court.

~

Wei Ying didn't expect to enter a weird... something-with-benefits-plus-power-play with the captain of the Gusu basketball team. He's not sure if it's worth it.

without a warning by aroceu | rated T | 10K words | 🥺️🥺️🥺️

“Blegh,” Wei Ying says. “I hate being sick, Lan Zhan… my throat is so sore… why do I talk so much?”

“Stop talking then,” Lan Zhan says.

“You don’t mean that,” Wei Ying says, in his half-asleep daze. “I know you’ll never admit it, Lan Zhan, but you like it when I talk.”

your honor i’m a freak bitch by aroceu | rated E | 6K words

Wei Ying gestures to his outfit. His hands are buried deep within the hoodie; he’s mostly gesturing with the sleeves. “Well, it works with the whole get up, you see?”

“The…” Lan Zhan looks down at where his fingers are toying with the top of Wei Ying’s thigh highs. Wei Ying pretends he is not shivering. “…skirt. And these stockings.”

“Thigh highs, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying says, batting at him with the end of a sleeve.

Play It By Ear by aroceu | rated T | 7K words | MY HEART !!!

In the virtual airplane flying over the island, appropriately called Yiling, Lan Zhan watches as bits and pieces of the island load in. There are many Statues of David, a gothic teacup ride, and, from what Lan Zhan can see, an entire field of spoiled turnips.

hanguang-jun @/hanguangjun Do you need turnips to sell?

timmy and tommy in a trenchcoat @/yilinglaozu oh! no haha! 😅 those are from a while ago but my brother insists i keep them there

for the ~aesthetic~

the key that our souls were singing by aroceu | rated M | 5K words

“I haven’t seen you since—Gusu, was it?” Wei Ying says. “Oh my god, it’s been so long. I didn’t even know you were LGBT! Unless you’re here as an ally, which is also totally cool—”

“No, I.” Lan Zhan coughs. Her throat feels dry. “I am a lesbian.”

abort retry fail by aroceu | rated E | 21K words

Lan Wangji must miss his husband over this amnesiac of a man Wei Wuxian has turned into. Well, Wei Wuxian will show him! He'll be even better—or at least, try to be just as good of a husband as he would be, without his memory loss.

Blackout If You Were Mine by aroceu | rated E | 9K words

Wei Ying likes to wear chokers a lot. So Lan Zhan buys some for him. Then, testing their limits, collars.

Wei Ying wears those, too.

-

Or, the one where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan accidentally stumble into a BDSM relationship.

eleven thousand meters & airborne by aroceu | rated E | 5K words | 😎✈️😎

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying join the mile high club.

many fox given by defractum | rated E | 24K words | can't go wrong with foxxian and dragonji content 🦊🐉

Lan Zhan is glaring at him. That's probably fair.

The last time they'd seen each other, Wei Ying had been digging through Lan Zhan's garbage. They'd made eye contact over the shredded bags, the week's trash scattered around him like stinky, oversized Lego.

Lan Zhan's eyes had been wide with horror, and Wei Ying's had been equally wide with feigned innocence. He'd reached out slowly, maintaining the eye contact, and then flipped over the food waste bin full of onion peel and carrot skin as a distraction and slunk off into the night. Probably not his finest moment.

-

Modern AU dragon!LWJ meets fox!WWX.

the tamed by defractum | rated E | 12K words

If the Second Jade of Lan insists on bringing the Yiling Patriarch as his guest to the next Cultivation Conference, he must first demonstrate a control over the Yiling Patriarch and his unnatural abilities.

The letter lies on their desk for days.

-

Post-canon, Wei Ying is invited, sort of, to a Discussion Conference.

us in a king-size, keep it a secret (say i'm your queen, i don't wanna leave this) by matcha_ado | rated E | 3K words

People always said Wei Ying was a royal pain in the ass. They were absolutely right, of course, just not in the way they thought.

it is wednesday my dudes by jelenedra | rated M | 4K words

Wednesday nights at Cloud Recesses strip club are always a little weird, but usually they're not this horny. Whatever Wei Ying and Lan Zhan get up to, Mianmian is not going to be the one to clean it up.

i'm the one for your fire by occultings | rated E | 43K words | cherry magic au! love it

Wei Ying, virgin and noted heterosexual, gets hit with a curse of an unusual nature on his 30th birthday — through physical contact, he can read the minds of others around him.

Enter Lan Zhan, hot former rival and current coworker, whose true thoughts about Wei Ying are nothing like he expects. (A loose Cherry Magic AU)

a thousand teeth, yours among them by darkredloveknot | rated E | 11K words

A one night stand in the time of zombies.

hoe to housewife pipeline by lanzhancore | rated E | 5K words

“You type fast,” Wei Ying murmurs, making a futile attempt at conversation while he waits for him to be done with… whatever. “Not to be pushy, but do you plan on fucking my ass anytime soon?”

or: wei ying has been thirsting after lan zhan for three slutty slutty years

can you feel it by lanzhancore | rated E | an instant classic

“What’s wrong?” Wei Ying asks finally, eyebrows drawn together. “Is everything okay?”

Thumbs stroking circles into his skin as if to comfort him, Lan Zhan says, “Don’t panic.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, sitting up on his elbows. “What did you do to my ass?”

“Nothing,” Lan Zhan says, convincing nobody. “But we need to go to the hospital.”

or: wei ying really should have sprung for the model with the flared base. he learns this lesson the hard way.

because you're mine (i walk the line) by lanzhancore | rated E | 8K words

Wei Ying is freshly cream-pied and still trying to remember where his legs are when Lan Zhan outlaws masturbation.

or: wei ying fucks around and finds out

payload by lanzhancore | rated M | 3K words | babysitter wwx + dilfji, what more could you need

Wei Ying has a whole five hours and thirty-six minutes to calm down but when he hears Lan Zhan’s key turning in the front door lock later that evening he has to cling to the couch cushions to keep from marching into the laundry room to retrieve the briefs so he can wave them in Lan Zhan’s face and demand to know who owns them.

or: lan zhan's self-restraint is not limitless

the to the brim series by verseau | rated E | 14K words total

Wei Ying wants to rob him, but it wouldn’t even be satisfying, since this guy is just—giving away money. With his nice fingers. Maybe Wei Ying will just bite his fingers, and that will give the same endorphin rush as robbing him. / a day told across five parts.

get that message home by verseau | rated G | 2K words | ohhhhhhhhh myyyyy godddddd 😭

Sizhui's father cannot haggle. It is a shame on Sizhui’s honor to have such an honest father.

Author's note [i'm including it here because it's golden]:

there is a scene in arrested development where lucille, who is on the opposite spectrum of humanity as lan zhan, asks, "it's a banana, michael. how much could one cost? ten dollars?" there are no bananas in this story.

dreaming and getting a glimmer by verseau | rated E | 27K words | a particular favorite of mine 🔥🍆💦🕳🔥

Wei Ying discovers himself.

trust your fingertips by plonk | not rated (but really rated E) | 15K word | 🥵️🥵️🥵️🥵️🥵️ plonk you’ve done it again!

Lan Wangji must suppress a shiver at every brush and press of Wei Wuxian’s fingers.

Under different circumstances - less public ones - he would welcome touch, given that his body is in such an aroused state.

Alas, his circumstances are these: sitting quietly while Wei Wuxian, the famous (infamous) Doctor of Yunmeng, digs his fingertips into Lan Wangji’s shoulders and chest and sides and hums thoughtfully.

Doctor, Doctor by YunmengLotus | rated E | 4K words | mmmmhmm!

Wei Ying needs to get a prostate exam. How ever will he deal when the world's hottest doctor walks through the exam room door and tells him to bend over?

TAKOYAKI by ariskamalt | rated E | 3K words | lan zhan gets jealous of his own damn appendages. meanwhile, wei ying is just having a good time.

Lan Zhan…cannot always feel or tell what his tentacles will do.

His free hand curls into a fist. Underneath his skin, the tentacles give a little squirm, as if aware of the challenge he has just issued them. No touching Wei Ying unless he says so, because he wants to touch Wei Ying first. They squirm again, as if to say, Tentacles: 1, Lan Zhan: 0.

That will just have to be remedied.

Or, as phnelt first described: Tentacle-ji with the semi autonomous tentacles getting jealous of his tenties for touching Wei Ying in places he hasn't yet

Outage by SugarMilkTea | rated E | 3K words | [cough] 😳😳😳

The power goes out in Lan Zhan and Wei Ying's rural home in the countryside. Lan Zhan takes advantage of the darkness to give in to one of his baser urges, and Wei Ying's first rural power outage experience is about to get a lot more interesting.

big hands (i know you’re the one) by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 8K words | NICE. 🔥🔥🔥

“Not a big talker, hm?” Wei Ying tilts his head to one side. “That’s okay, I’ve been told I’m a good enough conversationalist for three. My tongue is multi-talented and—”

He has just enough time to feel her palm on the back of his neck and think, oh, her hands are so big, before his words are being stolen into her mouth.

darling, am i a chore? by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 7K words

“Are you done playing around?”

Knowing that’s not what either of them actually wants, Wei Wuxian reaches up to tickle under Lan Wangji’s chin. Soft little scritches, coaxing motions—Lan Wangji is weak to all of them.

“You know what I want,” Wei Wuxian purrs, reaching up on his tiptoes to throw his arms over Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Call me gege, won’t you? Call me and I’ll stop.”

(or: five times Lan Wangji paid special attention to Wei Wuxian’s interest in being his gege.)

put him on his knees, give him something to believe in by dustyloves | rated E | 2K words | if the title is quoting WAP, then you should know by now it’s gonna be some of that good filth

The next time Wei Ying kisses him, Lan Zhan is careful again. Wei Ying seems determined to make it very difficult.

the hard way by dustyloves | rated E | 9K words

"Anyway, you make it sound like something lewd is going on," Wei Ying complains. "It's all totally above board. She's just being a nice person. It's just one kind alpha grad student offering one room of her huge house to one beta undergrad in need, what could be more appropriate than that?"

// Wei Ying makes a mistake and finds out the hard way.

Exhibition by sevenless | rated E | 5K words

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow. “The forbidden section, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

“You’re not afraid of being heard?” Wei Wuxian thinks aloud. A smirk creeps onto his face, eyes glinting. “Or could it be that Lan-er-gongzi actually wants to be heard? Seen? Caught?” He skips in front of him, blocking his way. "Disciplined?”

Lan Wangji’s ears, as always, betray him.

a history of the body by northofallmusic | rated E | 14K words

Wei Ying's body hurts sometimes; she lets Lan Zhan help her.

A fic about the complicated nature of having a body, and also the versatility of sex toys.

(our friendship) up against the ropes by daltoneering | rated E | 36K words

The reboot completes, and Wei Ying’s brain smashes this information together into two mind-shattering thoughts. Number one, he knew very well already, and is now further seared by defined muscles and a mouth-watering tattoo into his every waking moment: Lan Zhan is the hottest fucking person on the planet.

Number two: that guy wasn’t visiting Lan Zhan’s neighbour, he was visiting Lan Zhan, which means:

Lan Zhan fucks. Lan Zhan fucks. Lan Zhan fucks.

;

Lan Zhan has been Wei Ying's best friend for years. Literally, years. How did he not already know? How has he missed this most important of facts? And more importantly, how is he ever going to get over it?

watching my heart go round by typefortydeductions | rated E | 38K+ words | WIP (2/4 chapters, last updated 5/2/21) | lan zhan i love you baby 💞

Lan Zhan falls apart. As it turns out, that's not the end.

~

oh man this list is so long sd;jfkdsjfhhh

yati, i hope you find some stuff in this pile here that you’ll enjoy! it's not an exhaustive list, so check out the authors’ other works and bookmarks for more goods, if you feel so inclined 😙💕

[stxleslyds]

Part 2 of my Under the Red Hood Review

Hello! Here I am again with part two of this review, if you want to read the first part I will link it here!

Let’s continue!

Chapter eight gives us a look into the past, to when Jason was stealing the batmobile’s tires, to one of the first times Jason went out as Robin with Batman and everything was wonderful…then one of the scenes from the past show a Jason that may come off as a bit more aggressive on the job, it’s also shown that he does agree that the level of aggression was unnecessary but that the criminal deserved it anyway.

I know that sometimes people get the impression that Jason was an angry and extremely aggressive Robin, which is not correct, he was a sweetheart (and I am referring to Post-Crisis Jason because that’s what is in continuity in this story) just like Dick (he had forty years of being a sweetheart too, Marv Wolfman misses me with that angsty and angry shit) but I think what’s important here is the fact that Jason saw things differently from Bruce and that does not make him a bad Robin, it makes him a Robin with different experiences and as a human being he is allowed to change his views, also let’s be honest, hormones are a bitch so emotions are at an all-time high so he is bound to change. This does not mean that his death was his fault, Jason felt lost and wanted a mother and he made some decisions but Bruce was the adult and he should have paid more attention to him and his behavior so in this house the only ones to blame for Jason’s death will always be the Joker and Batman.  

Rant over.

Back to the issue we see Bruce, who has been doing tests and analyzing the coffin that Jason was supposedly buried in for hours, he is a whole ass mess but at some point in time he reaches a verdict…There was never a body in the coffin.

In chapter nine we meet Davis McCullen and Alfie Tisner who have a sort of meth lab in Black Mask or Red Hood’s territory, they don’t really know, and they also have a friend that is selling drugs to kids so yeah…they are in big trouble.

As I read I expect Hood to kind of appear out of thin air and kill them but that doesn’t happen, Batman is the one that comes crashing through a window and tells them that if they don’t pack their things and move they are dead because there is a wall full of C4 (that Jason implanted), Batman wastes no time and gets to work on disarming the bomb as he does that Jason makes himself known (trough a microphone) and tells the Bat that there is no way he can do it and that he better run too. Bruce says that the building is empty and there is no reason for him to blow it up which Jason is aware of and then suggests that Batman knows how much good it does to put a little fear into people and…boom.

Look at this little shit.

We soon find out that the building belonged to Black Mask, and that is not the only thing that Hood wants off the map, he is shown blowing up one of Masks trucks that is full of weapons. Here we also learn a bit more about his modus operandi, he never steals drugs or weapons for himself, he just destroys them and while they were expecting that behavior in what Hood deemed his territory, he is now doing it everywhere. We also find out that before he was trying to get Mask’s people to work for him but now he just kills them.

He is, however, taking his cut from wherever he can, so maybe he is building his own empire and his move as of now is eliminating the competition. This theory is proven true when Jason in all his glory and with a bazooka shoots Mask’s office floor.

Mask is pissed off and as he is screaming into the wind an angel answers his call…Deathstroke is here and he wants to play. This is not pleasing for Hood or Batman.  

Slade is working with the Society and Mask wants Hood “Serious dead. Head on a pike, guts on the pavement, me wearing a sweater vest made of his skin kind of dead.” So, Slade sends people to take care of the job.

Mask isn’t pleased though, apparently Captain Nazi (???), Hyena and an unknown third party aren’t enough for him but Slade assures him that they will get the job done, no worries.

The attack on Hood comes when some men are trying to send a “message” to him and here is where weirdo one and two bamboozle our boy.

The fight that ensues is good but is overshadowed by what Alfred says behind the scene, he talks about how Jason as Robin told him that Batman and the legend of what he could do didn’t necessarily scare the “dress ups” the way that it scared the street thugs, so as a consequence they were more dangerous, Alfred true to himself tried to explain that the dress ups probably believe different things about Batman but Jason told him something that shocked him, he said “They all know he won’t kill them.” Which is true, you, me and Alfred know it.

As Alfred continues “talking” the fight welcomes a new player, Batman. He narrates the fight and realizes that they need to team up which comes naturally to them both, in a second they are in synch just like they used to back in the cave all those years ago. As the fight is coming to an end the third party arrives…yep Count Vertigo is here, the fight doesn’t last long though, because there is adrenaline and hyenas and scents the fight is over in no time (I am not explaining that fight, it’s so weird). Captain Nazi is the only casualty and Batman isn’t happy but just like Jason I am okay with it, if he had to kill one of them let it be the Nazi.

Jason obviously leaves and taunts the Bat once more.

Alfred ends the monologue by saying that Jason never understood that it wasn’t Batman’s strength or stealth that scared his adversaries but his resolve.  

So, Batman makes a dramatic promise, “Time for this to end.” dun dun duuuuun

Chapter eleven part one opens with Alfred telling us about one of his and Bruce’s hobbies, they used to collect first editions of books and it soon became a tradition that Alfred then shared with both Dick and Jason…so when he finds a package for him and B that says “Just two to add to the pile. Cheers – Jason” Alfred immediately contacts Bruce.

Back to Black Mask, he apparently decided to set up a meeting with his right-hand men, they think that they are there to evaluate the idea of making a deal with Red Hood so he stops messing up their business and they are right! It’s just that the deal was made between Mask and Hood and it consisted in them being killed off.

 “Are you happy?” Roman asks.

“Getting there” Hood answers.

Back with Alfred we are able to see what is in the package. In it there is a lock of green hair with tissue included so yeah, now they know that Jason has the Joker, and he was nice enough to give them an address.

Once again with Mask and Hood well, let me tell you if Hood is just “getting there” then Mask is just not happy. They get into an argument, a big one, Mask says that killing all his right-hand men should be sufficient but Hood says it isn’t. It goes on for a while and Mask loses his marbles completely, apparently he put everything on the line for the deal but Hood really doesn’t give a fuck. A fist connects with Hood’s face and a fight ensues, while they do that they also yell at each other about the proper way of running the underworld, the fear factor, who is prettier, who is the best gangster and who looks better in biker clothing…you know, the important stuff.

I am not undermining the fight, believe me but it’s just that they talk, punch and throw each other across the room a lot. Sacrifice and what they are willing to do for Gotham or better said what they are willing to do TO Gotham are the last things they discuss.

Just as the end of the fight comes, we once again have Alfred talking in the background about the time Jason died and the time Bruce’s parents died and how different the two instances are, Bruce was a little boy and defenseless when his parents died but when Jason died he had everything, the training, gadgets and abilities the only thing that he lacked was time.

And as it turns out that’s about to happen once more…Batman is going to arrive to the place where Jason and Mask are going at it just in time to see Jason drop dead on the floor.

Don’t worry friends Jason isn’t dead (again) it’s just a random dude with a mustache and Mask is pissed about it, what’s new?

Jason is actually with the Joker, and by “with the Joker” I mean being annoyed by the Joker…he is ranting on and on about how he killed him, how good things come in threes like Batman, Robin and himself. At some point Joker decides that the sensible thing to do next is compare Jason still letting him live with Batman’s no killing rule and then to make matters worse compare Jason’s actions as Red Hood with his own.

I absolutely LOVE Jason in this moment, I swear seeing Joker’s smile fade away brings me joy, he tells him exactly what he doesn’t want to hear. Jason isn’t like the Bat he won’t stay and play his game; this man right here just scared the Joker and nobody can’t tell me otherwise.

Back to Batman, he is trying his best to shake Mask off but the man keeps questioning if he knows who the Red Hood is and why did he let him operate in such a brutal way for so long (and affecting his business, poor thing so sad). Batman basically tells him to stop playing victim, he thinks that Mask crossed a line that someone really didn’t want crossed and that at the end of the day he is just another gagster…which is exactly what Hood had said moments ago trough the helmet to Black Mask, in a moment of great intelligence Mask deduces that maybe Batman actually knows exactly who Hood is.

Batman of course doesn’t answer because he thinks he is slick but the cat is out of the bag. Among the ruble of the helmet that just exploded (yeah the helmet had a built in bomb, that detonated after Mask unmasked the mustache man) Batman finds a message from Hood, a place and “you know where”.

The east end, Crime Alley. That’s where Jason takes him because it’s ��fitting”, after all it’s the place where they first met.

Jason tells Batman that the Joker is in the building next to them and that he has it wired to blow it up, so Batman being his stupid self says that he won’t let him kill the Joker (come on Jason why do you want to kill the nice clown man, he is such a sweetheart).

The fight between those two is about to start when the scene changes. An attack, a living bomb called Chemo is being dropped (by the Society) in Bludhaven, Nightwing’s city. And Batman has a front row seat to see the show.

Yep, it’s not a good time to make snarky comments Jason; as far as both of them know Dick Grayson is dead. And the emotion in Batman’s face is heartbreaking, we as the readers have seen impossible situations, characters surviving shit that they wouldn’t in real life but characters within comics don’t know that… so, Bruce just saw another one of his sons die. (Dick is alive though, don’t worry)

Now, Jason has been a little shit during the whole story, but do not think for a moment that the situation somehow brings any form of positive emotion within him, what happens is that he sees an emotionally compromised Batman and well, will there ever be a better chance to manipulate him into feeling even worse?

…If Batman leaves, the Joker dies. So, first choice for the Bat, either he goes to what’s left of Bludhaven and searches for Dick or he stays and doesn’t let Jason kill the Joker.

Batman chooses to fight, and once again they start the same dance but this time B has upgraded his gadgets (you will never catch him wearing the same thing twice! Shame on you!) Jason teases him a little bit about the cape and B burns his jacket…

Batman has a whole speech about how Jason won’t be able to save Gotham or be better than him…that he knows that he failed him and is trying not to do it again. But Jason says that the failure he talks about isn’t really were his problem lies.

There we have it. And I would like to ask the same thing, why is the Joker still alive? Would it actually be so bad if he were beaten to death by someone’s bare hands? (Check out Joker: Last Laugh #6 (January, 2002) for a surprise)  

But that’s not the point, Jason is mad because he doesn’t understand and he feels betrayed, if the mad man kills a fifteen-year-old and then continues to kill and you as Batman aren’t willing to break the cycle of:  1) Joker escapes Arkham 2) Joker does something evil 3) Batman fights and captures him 4) Batman sends the Joker to Arkham 4) Arkham is already corrupt and lets him out after a while or he corrupts/kills a few people into letting him out, then what kind of man are you?

Batman obviously has an answer as to why he hasn’t killed Joker yet. He doesn’t do it because it will be too easy and not only that but he has thought about it…not just killing him but torturing him BUT! he won’t. He can’t really, you see, If he does it once maybe he will never stop (there he goes, the man with a resolve of steel) if he walks the dark path once he will walk it forever. Basically, Batman has zero willpower and zero control…my dude no one believes you!!!! Jason doesn’t either but he does have something to say.

Heartbreaking, that’s the only thing I have to say about these panels, these are panels that have always stuck with me. If you want this conversation to reach a whole new level of emotion I suggest you watch Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010) it’s an animated movie and Jason Todd is voiced by Jensen Ackles (who plays Dean Winchester in Supernatural) which is probably the best casting ever, Jensen is excellent at showing emotion with his voice. I totally know that probably all of you have seen the movie but it’s so good that I really think it’s worth watching again.

It doesn’t matter how emotional it’s for us, Batman can’t and won’t kill him, not even when Jason slides him a gun…so here comes the second time Batman has to make a choice

And he does, well, he uses a batarang to slice Jason’s throat making him let go off the Joker. Jason falls to the floor, a pool of blood around him. As that happens Joker grabs the gun and aims for the dynamite left there (remember that the building was set to go off) and shoots. BOOM!

And that’s the end. All three of them survive although Batman didn’t know that Jason was going to survive, I mean can he actually tell the future or…maybe I am missing something.

And yes, that was the end, I understand that to some it’s just a shitty ending and I don’t blame you…but to me it’s genius.  

It ends with Batman betraying Jason. They don’t make up, Batman doesn’t try to come to an understanding with him, he just makes a choice, he would rather save the Joker before killing or letting Jason kill him, which is bullshit my friends because Jason has been killing this whole story and B has been aware of it.

Jason appears later in Nightwing issue #118 (May, 2006) to #122 (September, 2006) as Nightwing and with tentacles. Don’t worry, you don’t have to read that. After that he appears here and there but personally, I really didn’t catch up with him up until Batman: Battle for the Cowl.

 Anyway, I am going to end it here, I hope whoever takes the time to read this enjoys it, see you around!

[generalherasyndulla]

ALL. MICHISELLE

Fuck dude, that’s a lot it’s going under a read more homie

for everyone else send me ship headcanon asks 

1. Who makes the first move and how?

Well CANONICALLY it was less a first move on either part, and more just a series of things they both did. Giselle grew a rose for Michel as a “thank you for being friends” type of thing and then Michel, big dumb in love idiot that he is just picks the rose and puts it against her hair because he’s very much in love and doesn’t know how to deal with that, so he just lies and says he wants to draw her with the rose in her hair and then that leads to a whole thing so who even knows at that point

2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?

I’d say it’s about equal insecurity wise. In canon Giselle has her insecurities about how 1000 years she’s no longer the same person or even “good enough” for Michel while Michel has big insecurities about his body due to being intersex. After canon they’ve healed mostly from these insecurities, but it still pops up. What makes Giselle feel better is being grounded to reality, just being reminded in someway that she no longer has to be trapped in the maid persona anymore and that even if she’s different she’s still Giselle at her core. What makes Michel feel better is any masculine-based comments or compliments. Just knowing that yes, he is a man and yes others see him as one too.

3. Who is the most romantic?

Post-reincarnation it’s definitely Michel, and Giselle loses it every time partially because she still never expects it and she can NOT handle it whenever Michel is smooth (she loves it though).

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

Okay so first of all it took these bitches 1000 years to even have their first kiss canonically so like it takes a bit for them to get to that point.

Giselle is the more handsy one, she loves to play with Michel’s hair (and sometimes braid it) and to hold his hand, mostly because it helps ground her and remind her that the life she has with him is real. Plus she worked HARD to be able to be more physical with Michel and she’s gonna enjoy it dammit.

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

Canonically it was Giselle, accidentally.

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?

Probably Noemi/Imeon because she’s cute and both Michel and Giselle like and trust her enough. That said the chances of Michel and Giselle EVER engaging in a threesome is very unlikely. They’re very much content enough with each other.

7. What do they get up to on a night out?

On nights they like to go out for walks in a park or a garden somewhere. They usually do this on nights where the moon is visible because the way the moonlight reflects on each other is very nostalgic and reminds them of the moment they first got together.

8. What do they like in bed?

So, Michel canonically has a maid kink although he doesn’t try to do anything with Giselle in relation to at first because he’s scared of triggering her (due to her 1000 years of trauma under her maid persona). However, Giselle is observant and is aware of his kink and is the first to bring it up, they have a good talk and are able to negotiate boundaries because if it’s something Michel would enjoy Giselle wants to give it a shot and she doesn’t want to be held back by her past. It takes a little trial and error but they work something out.

Outside of his maid kink Michel is pretty vanilla. Meanwhile Giselle is a little more adventurous and is the first to suggest trying to bring something new into the bedroom. She’s willing to try most things once ( there are some hard limits though absolutely no fucking knifeplay being one of them)

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

Giselle will NEVER let Michel live down that time he fell on her and accidentally groped her breast and then fucking compared it to an obese rat. (I’m going with canon again here because honestly, I can’t make a headcanon to top that)

As for Giselle, when she was introducing Michel to her college friends, they all went to a bar and Giselle had a little too much to drink. The specifics are a blur but her one friend did take a video of Giselle very LOUDLY proclaiming her love of Michel to everyone in the bar (she also almost got into a bar fight when one of the other patrons called her annoying).

10. What two songs, two books and two luxury items do they take to a desert island?

Two songs: Walking on Sunshine by Katrina and the Waves because I feel like it’s a song Giselle really likes (I think she’s into very upbeat and positive music) and Michel secretly likes it too just because it makes him think of Giselle (who in his words brought “light into his life”). The other is Symphonic of Fata Morgana because the concept of just breaking the fourth wall like that is funny and I have no better answer because this is a weird question and I don’t know music outside of musicals asgdrhftdrges

Two books: the book they read together in their first life (it’s never titled in the VN but it’d be nice to have for nostalgia), and Stardust by Neil Gaiman for no other reason than I think it’s a book they’d like

Two luxury items: A hairbrush and hair elastics (because they are BOTH hair monsters and need these things)

11. What do they hide from one another?

So, ignoring what they both initially hid in canon, by the time of modern-day Michel initially attempts to hide his lack of dating experience from Giselle (prior to getting her memories back Giselle has a few relationships in high school and college). Meanwhile Giselle initially tries to hide periods of dissociation where she’d slip back into the maid persona. Neither of them are able to hide this very long though and in the long term they’re very open and honest with each other.

12. What first changes when it starts getting serious?

I mean in canon the big thing that changed was Giselle no longer called Michel “master”. By the time they meet up again reincarnated because they have all their memories they pretty much just START at the serious point.

13. When do they realize they should get together?

It happened because of the moonlight’s spell (you don’t have to watch the entire video, I just know a summary can’t do this scene justice. I’d recommend starting where I have it linked and stopping at like roughly 5:05:07. Or you could watch past that I’m not the boss of you) 

14. When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Giselle immediately goes into caretaker mode. She will insist that Michel get rest and do basically anything she needs to take care of him. She remains outwardly calm and essentially just acts as a nurse. Michel meanwhile freaks out when Giselle so much as has a little cold. He tries very hard to take care of her but he’s so panicked that he definitely goes overboard in caring for her. Giselle is all “it’s just a cold please relax” but Michel is like “NO I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF YOU.”  

15. When they watch a film what do they choose and why? Who gets the final vote?

They both really like action movies, although they have to be a little careful because Giselle gets TOO hyped up from certain movies. Michel likes to fantasize about being a big manly action hero because that what he’s wanted to be since he was a child while a good action movie gets Giselle SO pumped and ready to kick ass. They alternate over who gets to pick the movie.

16. When the zombie apocalypse comes, how do they cope together?

They cope by just focusing on the fact that they’re together. Honestly as long as they have each other than zombies could hardly compare to the hell they’ve gone through already. They also make a “no bullshit heroics pact”. Either they’re both going to survive together, or they perish together. Neither of them are gonna sacrifice themselves for the other because Giselle is NOT going through that again and she doesn’t want to put Michel through that.

17. When they find a time machine, where do they go?

Michel goes into the past, specifically in his first life when he was just a child before he was Michel. He doesn’t have any big plans he just talks to his child self and tells him that he will be happy and accepted and comfortable with himself. His child self can’t understand, not yet but he hopes that it can help with what’s ahead.

Giselle chooses 50 years in the future. She’s seen enough of the past she just wants to know if she and Michel are still alive and happy that long. She wants a guarantee that she DOES have her happy ending for a long time. She sees herself and Michel, far older but still recognizably themselves, still very much as in love as they were 1000-ish years ago. And that’s all Giselle needs.

18. When they fight, how do they make up?

So, they are both incapable of being mad for long. One of them usually leaves their apartment to get space and time to cool their heads. After having that space whoever stormed out immediately comes back and they both apologize as soon as they see other and then talk things out.  

19. Where do they go on their first date?

Their first date was a whole vn scenario. So, I’m gonna talk about their second date. For their second date Giselle just went over to Michel’s apartment and they read the book they bought on their first date together. It was nice being snuggled up together and reading a book together, just like they did 1000 years ago. It’s far easier for them to just slip back into their dynamic since they got the “first date after being reincarnated” awkwardness out of the way.

20. Where do they go on holiday?

For big vacations they decided to travel to the different places the mansion has been because Giselle is curious about what those places are like now and what has changed and what’s similar. Plus she never really got an opportunity to actually explore these cities since she was just “living” in a cursed mansion plus Michel never really gets out much and Giselle is so excited about going on “an adventure” that how could he possibly say no.

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

They are both really nervous about the first time Michel meets her family. It’s something he never got to do in their first lives or ever since he’s had zero dating experience and isn’t the most sociable person. He is terrified about making a good impression and Giselle is a bit anxious too since her family can be a bit overprotective. Thankfully Michel is able to win them over since they can all see how happy they are together but it was definitely one of the scarier moments in their reincarnated lives.

22. Where does their first kiss happen?

In their reincarnated lives the first kiss happens shortly after their first date. After Giselle spent the night with Michel and they enjoyed breakfast together Giselle gave Michel a quick chaste kiss goodbye when she left. She didn’t think about it really it was more instinct but the minute she realized what she just did (which was after she left the apartment) Giselle definitely screamed internally. Meanwhile Michel’s brain just short-circuited immediately after the kiss but in a good way.

23. Where is their favourite place to be together?

Michel loves to be with Giselle when she’s working in her café. She’s just so completely confident and happy in her element and honestly Michel would be perfectly content just watching her do her thing forever.

Giselle’s favourite place in their bed just after waking up. She often wakes up before Michel and she just like to take a few minutes to just take comfort in Michel’s warmth and how easy it is to just be with him. Plus, he’s just so adorable when he sleeps, so calm and peaceful.

24. Where do they first have sex?

It happened in Michel’s apartment, a couple of months into dating each other. Michel is honestly extremely nervous at first because sure Giselle knows he’s intersex but knowing and seeing are two different things and he’s pretty anxious, but Giselle is very quick to re-assure him. They take it slow because they’ve wanted this for SO long and get to finally have it and they both want to enjoy it.

25. Why do they fight?

They don’t fight often but when they do it’s usually comes from a place of love and disagreeing on the best way to handle a situation. The fights never last long but neither of them really like fighting each other.

26. Why do they need to have a serious chat?

Usually when one of them is feeling anxious or triggered by something related to their past lives. 

27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them?

To everyone else Michel and Giselle are the golden perfect couple that no one could possibly live up to and boy can that get annoying (especially among their single friends).

28. Why do they get jealous?

Michel gets a little jealous when Giselle first tells him about her past relationships in her reincarnated life, but he gets over it pretty quickly.

Giselle tends to get a little more jealous in everyday life. Michel is a VERY pretty man and while he doesn’t notice it Giselle definitely notices every time a young woman stares at Michel. There was at least one occasion where someone was definitely flirting with Michel while Giselle was right there, and Michel did not notice (he can’t register flirting unless it comes from Giselle it truly boggles the mind) but Giselle did and channeled her jealousy into being EXTRA clingy to Michel and channeling the passive aggressive energy of the Maid in the full direction of this poor other woman. (again, Michel doesn’t quiiiite get what’s happening, but he thinks it’s all fine, probably?)

Jealousy doesn’t affect their relationship though, after everything they’ve been through, they’re pretty confident in their love for each other.

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

Michel falls more in love every time Giselle smiles.

Giselle falls more in love waking up every morning beside Michel and getting to see that yes, he’s really here.

30. Why does it work (or not work) between them?

It works because both have been through so much trauma and so much pain in their first life. It works because they formed a good friendship that then blossomed into something more. In their first life they only had a month as a couple, yet it was enough for Michel to be willing to die to protect Giselle and for Giselle to wait hundreds of years for him to return. Giselle saved Michel at a point where he had lost all hope he brought “light into his world” and when he met a Giselle who no longer remembered herself, who felt too damaged and broken to deserve love he told her he loved her anyway. It works because they’re just two hurt and traumatized people who found comfort in each other and the ability to not only help each other heal but to save a young girl who was just as hurt and just as broken.

It works because they have been through hell and back for each other and they fought so hard just to be together, and they EARNED their happy and normal life together. THEY INVENTED LOVE BABEY

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,631

Chapter 28: Rain

“Then I turned my eyes to the window and everything looks gray. Gray city, gray buildings, gray roads, gray rain.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Seoul – Sinchon; Seodaemun District South Korea

“You’re a lifesaver, Raelyn-ssi!”

“Yeah, thanks for coming on such short notice.”

“We had our hands full, so we really appreciate it.”

Raelyn smiled brightly, shaking her head as she waved at her fellow nurses at the hospital she was dispatched to. They all shared a laugh in the break room, steaming paper cups of coffee cradled in each of their hands as they chatted about how busy their schedules had been. Raelyn’s Korean was good enough that she could keep up with the various dialects that filled the room; from as deep in the city as Seoul to as far as the countryside as Gwangju. She enjoyed getting to know each of the nurses and orderlies who milled in and out of the main general hospital in Seodaemun.

Normally, her hospital in Gangnam was busy. But her supervisor insisted that her expertise would be better suited in Seodaemun for that week. If they needed her longer, she was given the go-ahead to remain for a few more days. Either way, she would earn a full week of PTO when she returned and she certainly wasn’t about to start complaining about that.

Part of her was happy to be out of Gangnam for a few days. She needed time to process things and really think about what road she was taking. Raelyn felt slightly hypocritical when she thought about her relationship with Taehyung, and on many levels at that.

While the Golden Jackals may have been no more, it didn’t change that their foundation was still a little unstable. People wouldn’t shift their opinions about them so easily, though it was becoming less and less difficult to throw that mantle into their faces. However, she was no fool to how the criminal underworld worked. If anything, the lack of firearms made Korean gangsters scarier than American gangsters. In America, all a civilian needed was another gun. While a normal person could carry a knife, the difference was that Korean gangsters could all fight. All of them. They wouldn’t hesitate to pierce someone with a knife or bludgeon someone to death with a steel pipe.

Getting their hands dirty was part of the territory.

When she thought about it, Raelyn probably attributed her attraction to Hoseok to that level of danger at first. Discovering that he was the leader only caused her adrenaline to soar to new heights, tickling the senses and rousing a deep-seated darkness that she had long since buried while she was living in the States. Raelyn was young and foolish in her younger years, running headlong into the fire and not caring if she wound up getting scorched or not. The feeling of her heart pumping like a piston in her chest made her feel alive. She was addicted to that chemical that released itself in her brain.

There was an actual condition for something like that. “Adrenaline Junkie” as she had once affectionately been called by her peers. That sense of danger excited her. Dealing with Hoseok and the other Golden Jackals was guaranteed a life of said danger.

When feelings were involved, however, Raelyn realized very quickly that the criminal life wasn’t for her. She could handle the backdoor dealings and under the table handshakes. She could take the mask she often had to don when she walked beside Hoseok during gatherings, both with his underlings and his main umbrella. What Raelyn couldn’t handle was seeing someone she cared about constantly in pain; struggling mentally and physically with his own demons as he promised that things would change. He made those promises as easily as it was for him to breathe.

In the beginning, she’d believed that they were all lies. That he was just saying what she wanted to hear to get her to stay by his side. It was the sort of thing Raelyn expected from most people in her life; men and women, friends and family alike. Nothing changed. Nothing ever did.

But now things were different. Things were beginning to change. Raelyn felt conflicted for the first time in a long while.

“Oh, dammit,” she heard one of the orderlies say, rising from his chair to cross the breakroom, “I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

Raelyn craned her neck with the others in the room, seeing the sudden torrential downpour that fell from the skies. While everyone else groaned in shared sentiments, she smirked and continued to sip her coffee. She didn’t mind the rain. She minded it even less when she didn’t have an umbrella.

It’ll be fine, she thought while setting her cup down on the table, a little rain never hurt anyone.

Her phone buzzed on the table, causing her to raise a brow when she saw two messages. One was from Taehyung, asking the normal question of when she was going to come back home. She shook her head, not sure if she wanted to answer him just yet. It wasn’t like she was avoiding him, but it would be a lie if she said his promise hadn’t shaken her up a bit. Why he felt it was even necessary for her...what did that say about her?

Had she made it that obvious?

The second message was from Eden, which had her almost laughing.

Eden: I’m sick of having to deal with this shit by myself. Ana is in LaLa Land and I’m not having it. You hear me? I spoke with your supervisor and he said today’s your last day at that hospital. I’m coming to pick you up. Don’t even think about trying to dodge me.

She picked up the phone, sending her a ‘smirk’ emoji, before replacing the phone into her pocket. Raelyn scoffed, finishing her coffee and tossing the cup into the trash. If anyone didn’t know any better, people would think that Eden was her girlfriend.

“Raelyn-ssi,” one of the female nurses called out to her, “are you going to be busy later? We were thinking about getting drinks after our shifts were over.”

Eyeing her wristwatch, Raelyn sighed. She was scheduled to do one more walk through of her rounds and then she could call it a day. By the time she finished, Eden would be arriving at the hospital.

Looking up at her fellow nurse, she shook her head and smirked. “I’ll have to take a raincheck, Mina-ssi. My ride is going to be here after we do our rounds.”

A few of her colleagues pouted and she laughed. It was a short amount of time she was dispatched to the hospital, but they already welcomed her as one of them. It was nice to be valued for her skills and who she was as a person versus the color of her skin.

Fifteen minutes seemed to fly by faster than she’d anticipated. As soon as Raelyn finished checking on her last patient, she made her way to the front desk to let them know she was leaving for the evening. Already other nurses and orderlies were coming in to relieve the Day Side crew of their shift – taking on the evening hours until the Overnight shift would come in to replace them .

As if on cue, her phone buzzed and it was a message from Eden telling her that she was pulling up. The rain hadn’t eased up. If anything, it was coming down harder than it had just a while ago. Mulling over the downpour, Raelyn was inwardly thanking Eden for being so stubborn. A little rain never hurt anyone, but a lot of rain in early Spring could cause someone to get sick. Maybe even her.

She waved to the receptionist at the front desk, clutching at her light jacket and bag. As she exited the building, Raelyn stopped just short of the hospital’s awning. She looked around, trying to spy out Eden’s car, and pouted when she didn’t see the mixed girl’s vehicle in sight. Pulling out her phone, she began texting her that she was outside. Raelyn pouted, tapping her foot on the concrete pavement.

“She demands I don’t ditch her, and she goes and ditches me ,” she muttered, turning her head in every direction to see if maybe she’d just missed her friend, “that bitch.”

“Take your fuckin’ hands off me!”

Whipping her head to the right, Raelyn’s eyes widened slightly. It was Eden’s voice. Taking a half step forward, the fronts of her shoes got wet from the water splashing on the ground. Squinting, she tried to make out what was happening in the parking lot. Eden was standing there with an umbrella opened over her head, her other hand clinging to a smaller one – presumably for Raelyn. However, there were about four men attempting to accost her.

Raelyn took another step forward, about to intervene. But before she could open her mouth and yell, she saw Eden dropping the umbrella in her hand only to extend the smaller one in her other hand, rearing her arms around her and swinging like she was holding a baseball bat. Successfully clobbering one on the side of the neck, Raelyn could only watch as her friend spun on her heel and smashed her combat clad foot into the gut of one of the men who tried to grab her by the shoulder.

Sighing, Raelyn knew that it was useless trying to get in the middle of one of Eden’s scuffles. The woman was damned and determined to spit in the face of society because they continued spitting in hers. She was hoping that giving Jungkook a chance would loosen Eden up, but it only proved to get the woman even more riled up than usual.

Just as Raelyn was about to take a lean against one of the hospital pillars, one of the men reached out and snatched Eden by the back of her hair. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled back, causing Eden’s head to whip back and she yelled in protest. Raelyn’s legs moved before her mind could process anything, her shoes splashing in small puddles of water as she attempted to close the distance between her and her friend.

“Hey! Get your hands off her!”

No sooner had Raelyn yelled it, did the man holding Eden’s hair scream in pain. He immediately wrenched his hand from her thick curly locks, now soaked in the downpour. Clutching at his wrist, she saw the blood weeping from his fingers and palm. Raelyn skidded to a halt, blinking wildly as she attempted to process just what in the hell just happened. Tilting her head, she didn’t have time to really get a look at the man’s hand before she saw Eden’s knee crash into the side of his temple.

As Eden’s boot slammed into the ground, soft tinkling sounds followed. Raelyn’s eyes shifted to the ground and she could only stare agape at the three razor blades now on the ground. Her eye-line moved to meet Eden’s and her friend smirked, tossing the small umbrella to Raelyn who caught it robotically in her hands.

“I brought this so you wouldn’t have to be standin’ out in the rain,” she replied cheekily. All Raelyn could do was stare at her. Eden cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“…did you really just—”

Before she could get the words out, one of the other men grabbed Eden by the wrist – yanking her backward with all the force he could muster. Her heels slipped on the wet concrete and Raelyn let out a sharp gasp when Eden slammed back-first onto the ground. There was a distinct pop from her shoulder and her yell exploded from her chest.

“Mother…fucker!” Eden snarled through clenched teeth, glaring at the man holding her arm through one open eye. “Let go of me!”

“Let go of her!” Raelyn screamed in tandem with her friend, ready to clobber him with the umbrella the same way her friend had.

“Oi! Let her go, Taewon-ah,” called a voice over the roaring rainstorm.

The man immediately released Eden’s arm, her limb splashing into the water and Raelyn was at her friend’s side – already helping her onto her feet. Her arm dangled limply at her side, but she could feel Eden shaking furiously in her grasp. Whatever pain her friend was in, she apparently didn’t care. The mixed girl was ready to fight like a wild tiger who’d had its whiskers pulled.

Standing off to the side was a man with dark auburn hair dressed in a long black trench coat, a tailored gray suit underneath. He held a clear umbrella over his head, the four men who assaulted Eden now standing by his side. They clasped their hands in front of them, stoic like soldiers despite one of the men’s hands bleeding freely in conjunction with the rain. Still mentally reeling over her friend having razor blades hidden in her hair, she turned to head back inside to treat Eden’s dislocated shoulder.

“I can see why she’s the Steel Claw ’s girlfriend,” she heard the man say from behind her.

Raelyn paused, slowly pivoting around but careful not to aggravate Eden’s arm further. “What did you say?”

“She’s feisty, that one.” He grinned, one hand slipping into the pocket of his jacket. “It’s almost a waste, really.”

Eden spit at him despite being several feet away. “And who in the fuck are you?”

He bowed his head politely, his eyes still locked on theirs. “Lee Minhyuk,” he said easily, straightening to his full height, “Jindo Dog of the Jade Fangs.”

A ball of ice crashed into Raelyn’s gut. “W-What?” She tried to maintain her sense of calm, but found it was difficult the more she stared into his icy smile.

Her friend’s laughter cut through her trepidation. “And we’re supposed to give a shit, why? What’s that got to do with those punks following me around like some fuckin’ cockroaches, huh?”

Raelyn was angry now. “You should know by now that the Golden Jackals have phased out from gangster business. Why do you guys insist on poking around?”

Minhyuk shrugged one shoulder. “In our world, it’s not so easy to step into the light. It's a fickle place and treats scoundrels like us as little more than garbage.” Even though his smile was present, his eyes narrowed. “Changkyun-ah is curious, is all.”

“About what?” Raelyn snapped, readjusting her hold on Eden.

“He wants to know if what Hoseok-ah and the others are doing is genuine or just some big show to hide their true plans.” He shrugged again, closing his eyes this time. “And what it will take to drag them back into the shadows with the rest of us.”

“You lousy sack of shit!” Eden shifted forward, attempting to lunge at Minhyuk but Raelyn held her back.

Minhyuk chuckled, pivoting so that only his profile was in view. “One of the tigers has claws. That makes things interesting, for sure. I apologize for the boys’ behavior. They get a little excited from time to time.” Craning his neck slightly so he could face them, he bowed his head again in a polite gesture that was in stark contrast to what his actual words were conveying. “Take care, ladies.”

Neither of them moved, watching Minhyuk leave with his small entourage. When it finally appeared that they were gone, Raelyn felt Eden slump against her. Without wasting another second, she yelled for help and a few of the EMTs who were pulling up for their shift came to her aid. They hauled Eden onto a gurney and wheeled her into the hospital, Raelyn already calling Jungkook to let him know what happened.

The rain was lost to the sound of her raging heartbeat.

[wandaluvstacos]

New Chapter of the Halfwife is up!

Chapter 16

Chapter 1 is free on both Wordpress and Patreon.

Summary:

After six months of matrimony, Mardi Tillamangandu and his halfwife Ilani have created a delicate but promising bond between them. Halfs - castrated before puberty and deeply religious - are not known for their passion or their affection, two things Mardi craves but doesn’t know how to ask for. Meanwhile, Ilani isn’t sure how zhi feels about love and marriage and all it entails, but zhi knows that zhi is willing to figure it out.

As the fourth son of the powerful Tillamangandu family, Mardi is barred from having children or inheriting wealth, but he’s been given the cold and wet island of Mashuluwa to rule as Warden with Ilani at his side. It’s no simple feat, but Ilani is motivated and exacting, and there’s no one more suited for the job. Yet when Mardi is called away for family matters, a group of hostile visitors from the northern territory of Tulea come calling. According to them, Mashuluwa – or Black Rock, as they call it – was taken from them, and they’re ready to reclaim it. They’re demanding an end to Tillamangandu reign, and both Ilani and Mardi find themselves in the middle of a conflict a hundred and fifty years in the making.

The Book summary, artwork, and chapter archive can be found on my website.

Excerpt:

“Taybar,” came a woman’s voice from the doorway. Taybar turned to face Zalu, who must have followed him up here. She didn’t seem much pleased either.

“What?” he snapped.

“Don’t antagonize her,” Zalu said in Tulean. “You need her.”

“Why? What do I need with some Parvalian bitch?”

Zalu’s struck him with a look she might have learned from his mother. “Think for a moment. You cannot run this island if you make an enemy of the people who live here.”

“I’m planning on running them all off of it.”

“With thirty men? Good luck.”

“They called us heretics. They don’t want us here anymore than I want them here. It’s either us or them.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Only now did Zalu’s expression soften, but only barely. “Stop thinking like a soldier and think like a leader. Our best chance of taking and keeping this place is to make peace with those who live here. We can establish ourselves here and rebuild our temple, but we can’t do that if we’re run off it first. The villagers will not like us, I am sure of it. But Ilani can help you change their minds, if you give her reason to. She’s won their respect. They trust her. I know you’ve come here with this stupid childish idea of killing Marditillamangandu and returning everything to how it was a hundred and fifty years ago, but that we cannot dwell on our past if it clouds the future.”

“What do you fucking know?” Taybar snarled. “You’ve lived in the belly of this beast. You’re practically one of them.”

In a second Zalu strode across the room and grabbed a fistful of his beard, yanking it until they were face to face. He yowled in pain and jerked back, but she held firm, and for a moment he thought she might murder him with her glare alone.

“Don’t you dare question my loyalty,” she growled. “I’ve been fighting for this moment my whole life. I’ve lost my husband to these colonizers. I’ve watched my people starve and disappear. I will not let your petty grievances and oversized ego stand in the way of taking back Black Rock. I don’t want these fucking Parvalians here anymore than you do, but I’m realistic, and I’m willing to make sacrifices if it means my daughter can pay tribute to her goddess like her ancestors once did.” At that, she released his beard and stepped back. In Parvalian, she said, “Why do you want the map?”

Taybar rubbed at his jaw with a scowl. “I want to look at a map, that’s all.”

Zalu marched over to a chest that Taybar hadn’t yet disturbed and threw it open. There was a large piece of parchment rolled up on top of it, and that is what she handed to him.

“Take it and leave Ilani alone.”

[deanscroissant]

Jackpot! Ch.1

Summary:  We often dream about winning the lottery, thinking that it’ll turn our lives in a fairy tale. But that’s far from the truth in Dean Winchester’s case. What will happen to Dean and the lives of his loved ones when they win the $900,000,000 Powerball Jackpot?

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Violence, Angst, Fluff

Word count:  4,707

A/n: I hope you enjoy the first chapter to this series.  Feedback is greatly appreciated. :)

Dean hated his job working in construction. He would have loved it if they didn’t pay him below the minimum wage since construction and working on cars were his two main passions. It sucks because he has a family he has to take care of and the money he’s earning isn't helping one bit. 

His wife Y/n, two eldest sons Michael (11) and Carter (10), and twin daughters Mya and Cheyenne (2) were the absolute world to him. But he can’t help but feel like a failing father and husband to them whenever he would bring home a three hundred dollar check every two weeks. He hated the sad look his children would give him when he could only afford one present for them on their birthday or Christmas, or couldn’t afford to give them money for school lunch. 

Even if the twins didn’t know better and was happy with whatever he gave them, it always feel like he could have done better or work harder. He would also feel even more guilty when he couldn’t help his wife pay bills. She would ask him to give him at least 10% for the bills and tell him not to worry about it when it would bother him, but deep down he knew his wife couldn't take struggling like this anymore. 

It was putting a strain on their relationship. She was tired. He was tired. He doesn’t remember the last time they went on vacation with just the two of them. He tried saving up but wasn’t able to. He wanted to give her the world, show her how much he appreciates her besides having sex, which they don’t do as often either. 

Dean didn’t know which way to turn. He hated asking his brother for money, even though Sam would be more than willing to give him anything. He sure as hell was NOT going to ask his father for anything. When his mom died their relationship has been rocky. The last time he spoke to him was almost four years ago, and was hoping to keep it that way. 

But when Dean was talking to some of his coworkers during lunch, one of them brought up the lottery. The Powerball prize was at 900 million dollars and apparently everyone has been talking about it. Dean couldn’t figure out how he didn’t know about it, but the idea of playing the lottery was tempting to him. He doesn’t really think about playing it often. He always felt like he would get bad luck if he’d play, but something in his gut was telling him to try, so he did. 

When he got to the gas station during his lunch break, he didn’t know if he should spend his last two dollars on lunch or buy a play slip. But when he saw his coworkers at checkout asking for one he joined them. He quickly filled out his play slip, playing the random numbers he made up but the powerball number, 18. 

The number 18 was special to Dean, because when he was 18 he met the love of his life. Y/n was someone special and he was so glad that he didn’t let you go. The sacrifices were worth going through with her and he would do it all again in a heartbeat. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he thought about her; her beautiful smile, her pretty, y/e/c eyes, the way she carries herself. She was perfect in his eyes.

Looking at his scoreboard once more, he hands the cashier the play slip then received his ticket. He puts it in his wallet to make sure he doesn’t lose it before heading back to work with his coworkers. By the time five o’clock hit he clocked out and headed home. He couldn’t begin to explain how tired he was. The next time he’s off is Sunday, which is tomorrow. Only having one day off every week was bullshit to him. 

When Dean walks into his home, he’s greeted with the sound of screaming toddlers playing in the living room and the sight of his wife’s distraught form, sitting at the kitchen table with papers scattered everywhere and a laptop sitting in front of her. Michael and Carter came running down the stairs just in time to see their father. 

Dean greeted them with hugs and a kiss on top of their heads before they ran off, not giving Dean enough time to ask them how their day was. He only shakes his head and chuckled as he watched the little boys chase each other. He walks over to his wife next, “Hey, baby.” he says before kissing her temple. 

“Hey.” She mumbled as she was focusing on whatever she was doing on the laptop. Dean glanced over her shoulder to see what she’s reading on the screen. “What are you up to?”

She stops to look at him with a look of exasperation, which made Dean confused. “What’s the matter?”

Y/n sits back in her chair while taking off her reading glasses, “The water cut off today while you were at work. That’s what’s wrong.” she explained.

“Shit.” he cursed under his breath and ran a hand down his face. This was the second time Dean forgot to give her money for the water bill and he promised her the last time that he’ll give it to her. “Is it still off? How much is it?”

“Five hundred, Dean.” she sighed, “Now I only have ten in the bank.” Y/n was beyond frustrated with him. She reminded him a week before the bill was due that he needed to pay his half.

“I’m so sorry, y/n/n. I was gonna tell you I wasn’t going to be able to give you the money. I promise I’ll-”

“No!” she snapped, “You’re not going to pay me back so quit lying to me!”

“I’m not! Next paycheck I’ll just give you my whole check. That way you won’t have to keep asking me.”

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Don’t even bother, Dean.” They both stare at each other for a few moments, the tension in the air getting thicker by the second. “When are you going to quit that job anyways?”

This time Dean rolls his eyes with a groan. He stalks his way to the fridge to grab himself a water bottle. A glass of whiskey seemed appropriate right about now, but Dean ran out of it a couple of weeks ago when they both got into an argument about not making enough money and Dean needing to quit. 

“I said I was gonna think about it, y/n.” he said and sighed while slamming the fridge door shut. “I don’t wanna get into that right now.” 

“Well, think quickly, Dean, because we’re not getting anywhere. You know how my situation is.” Y/n is an online teacher for homeschooling. She used to be an assistant teacher in high school but had to quit because she became a stay-at-home mom, and plus, she wasn’t making enough money anyway...as so she thought. The money that she’s making right now is way worse than before.

“Yeah, I know, y/n/n. You know I can’t quit right now.”

“Yes you can, Dean. You can go back to working with your dad-”

Dean was not going to let her finish that sentence. His jaw clenched at the thought of that asshole. “The hell if I am. I’m not working with him again. Ever.”

“Why can’t you two just put your differences aside? You made a decent amount of money there.”

He gives her a look as a warning to cut the conversation short or he’ll go off on her. She began to speak but, saved by the bell, Cheyenne was tugging on her shirt for her to refill the sippy cup she was holding. When Y/n got up it was Dean’s cue to leave, not wanting to talk anymore. 

But Y/n was right behind him once she gave Cheyenne her juice. He was ascending the stairs and she trailed behind him, “We’re not done talking about this, Dean.” she says. 

“Well, I am.” he grumbled as he walked into their bedroom to take off his grimy work clothes, “Why’d you think I walked away?”

That ticked her off and she slammed the door behind her, “You know what? I’ve had it with you! I’m tired of you ignoring this situation we’re in-”

“I’m tired, y/n!” Dean snapped, “I don’t want to talk right now, okay?!”

“Oh don’t give me that sorry ass excuse!” Y/n fired back, “You need to stop putting our problems aside like it’s nothing. It’s like you don’t care at this point.”

“I do care. Why do you think I’m working damn near fifty hours a week?”

“Just to bring home half of what I make?!” Her voice began to go higher, “It’s pointless working there, Dean.”

Dean shook his head at her while walking back to the bed to take off his shoes. He couldn’t believe she was acting like this, “Are you appreciative of anything I bring to the table?”

She scrunched her face looking at him confused, “What? Of course I am! But you gotta step up your game, Dean.” She stops for a moment as she began to feel her throat tighten, trying to gain back her composure, “We can barely put food on the table. I don’t want to starve our children. I’m tired of feeding them the same thing over and over again.”

Dean kept quiet as he went to his closet to put on some clothes he found on the floor. He didn’t even bother to take a shower since it seemed like he won’t at the moment. He knows this is going to be another heated argument, so he’s ready to storm out whenever it gets to that point. 

“I don’t know what’s so hard about going back to your father and asking him for your old job back-”

“That son of a bitch is not my father.” Dean was getting sick of her bringing him up and she can tell, but she is not letting it go, despite the fact that his father treated him like he was a slave and humiliated him in the most inhumane way ever. 

“You two need to settle your differences. I know what he did was terrible and he shouldn’t have done that to you, but you need to talk to him.” y/n persuade, crossing her arms. 

Dean yanked his shirt down when he put it on before looking at y/n with fiery eyes, “I’m not talking to him.  He put me through hell working for him and I’ll be damned to go back and be his little bitch!”

“You don’t even have to do that!” she said, matter-of-factly, “Just ask him to give you some money or something.” 

Dean was so disappointed. Y/n knew about him and his father’s rocky relationship ever since she met him, and for her to say this to him was shocking. He saw it in her eyes that she was desperate, but Dean couldn’t face his father again. Not after the things he did to him. He promised himself he wouldn’t ask him for nothing. 

“Are you crazy?” he said, incredulously. “Do you really think I would ask him for money? He barely gave me money when I was working for him!” His raised his voice louder, which did shook y/n and add more flame to the fire when she raised hers. 

“It’s better than fucking nothing, Dean! My gosh you’re so stubborn!”

“Well how about you go prance your ass down there and ask him! Because I’m not going back there to be humiliated by those freaks!”

“You’re not supposed to give a damn about them. You’re there to work for us, not to please them!”

“It affected the way I worked for us!”

Meanwhile, the four children could hear their parents arguing from downstairs. Michael and Carter were holding the twins, frightened that they would begin to get physical again. 

Y/n and Dean did put their hands on each other on some occasions. The last time it happened was last year when Dean pushed y/n into a wall and left a crack where her back had hit it. Due to not affording a hospital visit, y/n didn’t bother to go get it checked out. So now she still suffers from back pains from it. 

They promised each other they wouldn’t lay a hand on each other again, and apologized to their children countless of times for ever showing them that kind of violence. Those fights did traumatized the oldest children, and it broke their hearts that their children had to grow up remembering those fights. 

A few minutes passed by and Dean came from out of the room, slamming the door shut then storming down the steps as he put on his flannel. When he looks up to see his children staring at him in fear, his whole demeanor changed. It angered him, at himself, of course, to see his children be fearful of him when he yelled. Dean hated the yelling just as much as they did. 

Dean sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m so sorry, guys. Momma and I were talking about grown up stuff.”

“Were those grown up stuff about money again?” Michael spoke softly. 

Dean also hated that his children knew what was stressing them out. He didn’t want to lie, so he nodded and replied, “Yeah. But it’ll all be taken care of, okay? Don’t you guys worry about a thing...” He smiled, crouching down to meet them eye to eye, “...besides those princesses you’re holding.”

They both returned a smile back as Dean tickled the two girls, who both roared in laughter just to get them to cheer up. Dean stopped to back away and look at his beautiful offspring, “You know I love you guys to death, right?”

“We know, Dad.” Carter giggled, which made Dean smile. He pulled them into a hug, and seconds later his eyes were beginning to water. Dean doesn’t want to end up like his father when he was growing up, so he’s trying his damndest to be a better father and role model unlike him. 

He pulled away as he quickly blinked back the tears. He had to get out of the house to clear his head, so he asked if they were up for the park and ice cream, which they did not decline at all. With a smile, Dean took the kids upstairs to get them dressed then headed out to the park. 

Nearby was an ice cream parlor. Dean remembered that he didn’t have any cash on him, only his credit card that he maxed out a few days ago on groceries. Right now he didn’t care. He just wanted to make his children happy. He’ll just have to deal with the overdraft fees later. 

Dean watches his kids play on the playground while eating his Cherry Garcia ice cream, as his mind goes to the $900M Jackpot. First off, Dean wasn’t so sure if he would even live if he finds out he won because he would probably die if he did. That’s a whole lot of money, enough to last you a lifetime. Second, he wouldn’t know where to begin due to the adrenaline rushing through his body. He did gave it some thought over his lunch break today. 

He would first quit his job and get the heck out of Kansas and move to Texas where him and y/n dreamed of living since they were teens. Then he would pay off any debt they had, and then start his mobile mechanic business. Of course he’d save up for his children, and probably invest in stocks. Those were the main things he wanted to accomplish first. 

Dean didn’t realize they were out for almost two hours. He wasn’t shocked that y/n didn’t bother to call and check on them, because it was typical of her whenever they’d fought. They left around six for dinnertime and when they got home you were already finishing up cooking leftovers from two nights ago. 

Dean walked upstairs to finally take a shower for supper and bed. Once dressed he folds up his lottery ticket then puts it in his pocket for later, then walked down to the living room to play with the kids until it was time to eat. 

“Dinner is ready!” y/n shouted from the kitchen as she sat the last plate of food down on the table. Moments later the kids came running into the kitchen, their laughter filling the air. She caught their contagious laugh as she watched her little girls struggle to catch up with their brothers. 

Her husband came in and swooped up Mya, kissing her temple before placing her in the worn down highchair that used to be Michael and Carter’s. You did the same with Cheyenne before sitting down next to her, then placing some of the food on her tray. 

Y/n glanced around the table to make sure everyone was situated before she dug in. The table was mostly quiet tonight, besides the babbling between the twins and the boys exchanging a few words about school. But y/n and Dean haven’t even glanced at each other. 

Carter noticed that and he looked between them frowning, “Momma, do you and Dad not love each other anymore?”

It caught both the parents off guard, making them halt their eating. For the first time Dean looks at you for your reaction, which mirrored his before he turned to Carter, giving him a confused look, “Of course we love each other, Carter. Why would you think that?”

He played with a piece of meat on his plate, sighing softly, “Because you’re always arguing. I thought the more you argued, the less you love each other.”

Y/n was lost for words. It made her heart hurt for that to be on her child’s mind. “Baby, no.” she spoke, reaching for his hand to squeeze then glancing over to Dean, “It’s what married couples do. Not every marriage is perfect. We still love each other, okay?”

Carter was going to bring up about y/n and Dean’s violence toward each other and ask was that okay for married couples to do, but brushed the thought away and nodded and continued on with his meal. 

Y/n squeezed his hand again before pulling away. Turning back Dean was staring at her, and she knew what he was thinking about. He was getting ready to say something but she stopped him by giving him a look, not wanting to talk about it anymore until later. 

After dinner, Dean offered to clean the kitchen while y/n took the kids upstairs to get them ready for bed. Once he’d finished he kissed his children goodnight before going back downstairs to watch the drawing, while y/n went to the bedroom to catch up on paperwork. 

Dean got comfortable on the couch, with his ticket in one hand and the remote in the other as he changed the channel to the drawing. He wasn’t so optimistic about this but figured it was worth a try at playing. He did begin to get a little nervous when the drawing had started. 

He watched the TV attentively at the announcer, who was introducing herself and explaining tonight’s drawing while the numbered balls were spinning behind her in clear containers. Dean’s heart was racing as he watched the air in the containers spin them around. It stopped spinning so that the first ball would raise and drop down into the tube where the winning numbers are shown. 

The announcer read off the numbers 20, 12, 51, 34, 53 and the powerball number 18. Dean looked down at his ticket and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

He quickly paused the TV to study the numbers again. He first thought that someone pulled a prank on him. He thought maybe one of his work buddies set something up. But it didn’t make sense to him. None of this was making sense to him. 

He decided to call up his work buddy Benny Lafitte, who was someone that he grew close to over the years and saw him more as a brother. He didn’t want to sound unusual and let him think he was being suspicious so he told himself to calm down before making the call. 

Benny picked up after the third ring and greeted in his southern drawl, “Hey, brother! The dang on lottery robbed me again. No lucky over here.”

Dean breathes out a laugh, “I only got one number. Not much luck either.”

“Well you had more luck than me. What number was it?”

“I don’t remember. I’m out right now getting some last minute stuff for y/n. What were the numbers again?”

“It was…” Dean could hear shuffling going on in the background, “20, 12, 51, 34, 53. The powerball was 18. How could it be possible for anyone to guess those numbers?”

His eyes grew wide as his phone slipped through his hand and fell to the floor. One thing he knew about Benny was that Benny would never lie to him. Dean was trying to think back if anyone was watching him, or if the cashier was up to no good either. 

But it wasn’t making sense at all. No one was watching him or did anything suspicious to his knowledge. 

Dean was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Benny’s voice coming from the floor. He quickly picked up the phone, “S-sorry, Ben. I’m driving and I accidentally dropped my phone. So it was those numbers? Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He said, rather in a question type of tone. “Why?”

“Nothing.” Dean said quickly, “I thought it was 13 I had but it was 12. So I’m in the same boat as you, brother.”

Benny chuckled, “Man, Andrea had no luck, my in-laws had no luck, them knuckleheads at work sure didn’t. Can’t win them all, ya know?”

“Yeah.” Dean just realized he actually won. Benny wouldn’t let anyone pull a prank like this on his best friend who knows that he’s financially unstable. It just didn’t add up. 

“Listen, Benny, I just got home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright?” They said their goodbyes and Dean hastily ended the call before throwing the phone on the couch as if it stung his hand. He leaned forward with his hands on his knees when he felt like he was about to pass out. 

“I fucking won.” he spoke softly. His breathing was labored and his hands started to shake. He suddenly dropped to his knees, and his vision went dark. 

Dean had jolted himself awake from his own snoring. He sat up and blinked his eyes to regain his consciousness before rubbing his eyes.  He looked around and wondered why he was sleeping on the floor. Realization hit him like a freight train when he saw the lottery ticket laying there on the floor staring back at him. 

With wide eyes he picked it back up and stared at the ticket. “Son of a bitch!” he breathed out as he felt his eyes begin to sting. He turned around to find his phone to check the time. It was midnight, so he had to have been passed out for three hours. 

He threw the phone back on the couch before he hopped off the floor. A rush of euphoria coursed through him as he jogged up the stairs while screaming out y/n’s name. He burst through the bedroom door to see her passed out with her laptop open and papers scattered around her and on her stomach. 

But she bolted awake at the noise and her eyes were on Dean, who was walking towards her with a smile that actually terrified her. “Dean, what the hell-” she started in a grouchy tone but Dean cut her off. 

“We won!” he exclaimed in delight as he threw his hands up. “We won the Jackpot, baby!”

Y/n blinked at him a few times, not only confused but trying to adjust her eyes to the bright lights. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Come ‘ere I’ll show you.” Grabbing her hands he almost yanked her off the bed before leading the way to the living room where the TV was still paused to the numbers from hours ago. He points at the TV then at the ticket in his hand while handing it to you, “They’re all the same fucking numbers, even the powerball.”

She squinted as she tried to read the numbers on the ticket, “Dean, I need my glasses.” she said, tiredly. 

“Just read the-” he stopped himself and let out a breath. “I’ll go get them.” 

He came back in no time with her glasses. She puts them on and reads the numbers back and forth. Y/n felt like Dean was pulling one of his pranks again and she wasn’t having it right now. She cuts her eyes at him, “You really think this is funny, huh? Waking me up out of my sleep for this shit?!”

Dean’s smiled faded and his face scrunched, “What are you talking about? Babe, this is real! As real as it’ll ever get!”

“You know how bad are finances are and you wanted to pull some prank that you won the lottery? How dare you!” 

“Why would I prank you about this? Babe, this is not fake! Where would I go to print out a fake ticket? You know I’m not that good with computers. How would I be able to get those numbers on TV?”

Y/n stayed quiet for a moment. It made sense to her, but a part of her was saying otherwise. “I don’t know, Dean.” she said softly.

“I thought someone was pranking me, too, until I called Benny to confirm it.”

“You told him?”

“No. I made it seem like I didn’t win. I asked him to tell me the numbers again and made it seem like I was out. He repeated back all of the numbers.”

Y/n went quiet again to process what he said and she couldn’t believe it. It was impossible. They were terrible at finding luck and all of a sudden this shows up. A wave of mixed emotions hit her suddenly and she began to tear up, “Are you sure, Dean?”

“I would never lie to you, sweetheart.” Dean said with tears in his own eyes. 

She looked back at the numbers again and almost choked when she realized that it was true. She was holding the key to making a better life for her family. They won nine-hundred million dollars. 

She met her gaze with his and held his head in between her hands. “You mean to tell-” she hiccuped then smiled, “tell me that you won? You’re telling me that right now?”

Dean shook his head with tears flowing down his face as he placed his hand on top of hers, “No, baby, we won.” 

“We won!” she screamed happily and threw her arms around Dean. With a toothy smile he picks her up and holds her close. She pulls away when she remembers about the fight they had. When she was doing paperwork earlier she was thinking about the things she said and thought how wrong she was. “Baby, I’m so sorry about what happened earlier. I-”

Dean cuts her off with a kiss to silence her. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Let’s put that all behind us. We have bigger, exciting things to worry about now.”

She nods and goes back to hugging him and continues to sob happy tears on her husband’s shoulder. The pair couldn’t wait to see what the future held for them and see the impact of this fortune helping their family. 

[fyeahmeddy]

True

My first Final Space fanfic. Something about HUE’s mind and his capacities as an AI. Wrote this while listening to the Interestellar soundtrack. Hope you like it!

Words: 1105          In AO3 CW: mentions of suicide and suicide attempting.

--------------------------------------------------------

The pinnacle of artificial intelligence. That’s what they said.

“There is not, nor was nor will be something like him!”.

They always called it him. It was irrelevant, but he went on with it.

“He will lead us to a new level of consciousness, a new level of mind!”.

But then, they found it. The other robots had it and there was no problem, they made them with it. But not him. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

“It’s a flaw! It’s a mess! He was supposed to be beyond that! How can there be a gate?” he heard.

value=(0)

“Forget it! Send him to a place nobody ever knows about him”.

He received new directives. Protect life. Protect the life of those under your watch. Protect those who society doesn’t want around.

Embed to a jail ship, many men and women were put under his protection. Space was a lonely and vast place. A human being living in such conditions was prone to develop psychological effects that could lead to violent episodes. He was supposed to serve as support and watcher. The companionship was the KVN’s responsibility, but he soon learned that the unit was unfit for the job, so he had to take care of that too.

He had plenty of prisoners to look after. Some of them just for a few months due to minor offenses, some others put as far away as possible from any life form due to their horrific crimes. He had returned some to Earth on their feet, some others inside bags, motionless. Space was a lonely, vast, crushing place.

His original programming remained untouched. With each new inmate he learned more and more. Each new inmate got to see a different face of him -to use an expression-. And then he came around. A high-horsed noisy blonde that seemed to be already out of his mind before he even got in the ship.

“Hello, Gary Goodspeed. I’m HUE, I’ll be your guard for the next five years”

Gary appeared cheerful, over-dramatic, full of himself and strong willed. Kind of a con-man. Of all the inmates he’d have, he was the most vocal about his annoyance towards KVN. Most of the inmates seemed to perfectly ignore the hyperactive unit but it touched a nerve with Gary that HUE had never seen before. Another new thing HUE discovered on Gary was what could be called an attachment quirk. He sent a video message almost daily for an Infinity Guard member back in Earth, talking about his days in space, bragging about fake adventures, talking about his feelings and how he expected to reunite with her. And also:

“HUE?”

“Yes, Gary?”

It became a common thing. No one had ever called him by his name after the first six months. By then, it was always ‘piece of crap, ‘stupid AI’, ‘bitch boy’ and several others that HUE knew should be an insult, yet he remained unmoved and continued with his tasks. But Gary called him by his name every time. And as a sign of courtesy, he called him back by his name. It was easier and faster than saying his prisoner code. HUE supposed Gary started seeing him more of a companion than KVN, which had become one of the AI’s objectives since long ago. It was interesting to see such a peculiar living being.

value=(0)

Gary was one of the biggest psychological challenges he had ever faced. It took several minutes of quantic investigation and simulation to be suitable to confront Gary’s meltdowns. A fragile mind lied behind a hard series of shells, the hardest HUE had seen. Gary’s report indicated diagnosed PTSD in his childhood, but HUE started to believe it had never been treated properly since then. There were days when he refused to work all together -despite knowing it would add days to his sentence- and spend the day in bed, days without showering or eating, nights in which he cried himself to sleep after a day of excited rush, recurrent nightmares and sleep-talk about an explosion. Space is a lonely, vast crushing place. Every inmate that had spent more than nine months there attempted to end their sentences by themselves. All of them were successful in their first try. Gary, however, attempted twice, unsuccessfully. After the second attempt all other episodes of a dangerous psychological situation, although critical, never reached a point like that again. He kept talking about it, sometimes muttering ‘next time will be it’ under his breath, hoping HUE didn’t listen, but he did.

And then Mooncake came along. And Avocato. And Quinn. Little Cato too but Avocato had to go. The adventure to save the universe took its course. And HUE got to see layers of Gary that he had hinted but never showed, due to the lack of other biological entities with… feelings. He saw friendship, empathy, compromise, more hugs than he had ever seen, and sacrifice. Why was this man in jail?

Gary’s body was floating in the lonely, vast crushing place that is space. The quest to save the universe was a success, but the toll had been too expensive. His oxygen was running out, with no one to come and save the day.

“Are you cold?” asked Gary.

Cold. That was a feeling. He made a quick search in his programming: value=(0). How to say that with a little bit of humor that could ease Gary’s situation? Gary always loved to use sarcasm.

“I only feel two things, Gary: nothing and nothingness”.

“You’ll stay with me till the end?” Gary asked, weekly, fearful.

Of course, he would. He was his companion.

“Till the very end”.

The time ran out.

“Gary, the cookies are done”.

No reply.

Something new appeared in HUE’s mind. It had never been there before but it seemed to belong. Something that had remained closed opened. Was this the gate his creator had called a flaw so many years ago? Was he malfunctioning? It was time to check his programming.

value=(1).

An archive of memories of the last five years ran through his system. And they came with something that put every moment under new lights. Gary’s arrival to the Galaxy One and all the times he called him by his name were yellow, the fights against Lord Commander were red, Avocato’s death was white and black (despite his sensors being better than human eyes). This moment was blue. A deep almost-dark and cold blue.

It was cold. Gary was cold. He could feel it now. HUE had discovered a new universe and there was no one to share it with.

“I’ll miss you, friend”.

[cross-roads-blues]

Leaving You Is Loving You

This is my late submission for @huntersociopathavenger‘s writing challenge and I’m so sorry this is late and I really hope you like it! <3 <3 <3

Prompt: “If you leave now, you lose everything!”

Warnings: Angst, Torture, Hurt

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Break Ups

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Read on AO3 here.

[Read the whole thing under the cut!]

Castiel groaned as one of the angels flung him against the wall. He promptly sliced the attacker with his angel blade, not doing much harm, however and proceeded to punch the angel in the face, breaking free from his bond. Just as he was making his final break out of the tavern, which inadvertently became a battlefield between him and a faction of rogue angels with apparent orders to capture him, somebody hit him bluntly on the back of his head and somebody’s foreign grace encompassed his mind, sedating him. He blacked out, even before his body hit the floor.

He woke up because of pain and because of a rough female voice calling out his name. The angel blinked and slowly opened his eyes adjusting to the light. After a quick look around the room the angel concluded that he was held in some sort of basement with grey featureless walls and floor and something looking suspiciously like a blood stain in one of the corners. In front of him was a metal door with scratched surface and on his right was a big, what he assumed to be window, which was now covered by dirty used-to-be-beige blinds. The angel himself was chained to a chair with iron chains with angel-binding sigils etched into them. Castiel sighed. Captured, yet again.

“Castiel!” Rough female voice returned and now Castiel was sure that it wasn’t a hallucination. Someone very real was standing behind him and calling out his name.

“That… that would be me,” coughed out angel.

“I damn well know it’s you.” Castiel heard high heels clacking on the floor behind him and soon a woman walked out from behind him. She was wearing a grey striped pant suit with slightly unbuttoned blue shirt and she appeared to be in her mid fifties.

“My name is Dina,” she said as she knelt beside him to be at eye level with him.

“Angel, I presume,” noted Castiel.

Dina nodded. “A pathetic one, I should say. Weakened, with no wings, stranded on Earth. And who’s fault is that?” With a hoarse laugh, Dina stared into Castiel’s eyes.

The angel furrowed his brows and exhaled irritatedly. “Is this about the Fall? That was a year ago and I think we established that I didn’t make the angels fall! And Heaven is open, by the way!”

Dina laughed again and her laugh sounded rotten. “What’s up there isn’t Heaven. It’s a miserable copy of what was before the Fall.”

“Before the Fall there was a dictatorship!” grunted Castiel, tugging at his restraints.

“And that's how it was meant to be!” through her teeth spit out Dina, every word fizzling with venom.

“Well, what do you want from me now?” yelled Castiel.

Dina narrowed her eyes. “I want the names of every angel and their vessel that is running things up there. I want to know my targets and I’m sure you know all of them. And I want to know where you base your operations on Earth.”

“And why would you think I will just give it to you?” hissed the angel, furrowing his brows.

Dima gave him a weird look and smiled slyly. “I have ways to make you comply.”

“What do you-“

With one quick movement Dina opened the blinds on the window, revealing a window behind it.

“Oh no…” gasped the angel as he perceived what was behind the window. Behind the window was Dean, tied to a chair, just as he was, but Dean was already covered in blood and bruises. He was tortured, with horror realised the angel. Castiel gagged.

“I presume you two  know each other,” in a sweet song-alike tone murmured Dina just above his right ear.

“You…” Castiel found himself speechless. Everything inside him screamed. Dean was hurt because of him. For the first time in years he found it hard to breathe.

“He has nothing to do with this.” Castiel saw red.

Dina laughed. “Why of course he does. I need your precious boyfriend-” Dina raised her eyebrows, noticing Castiel’s confused face “-oh yes, everyone’s aware of your connection - to make you talk.”

Castiel squinted his eyes shut for a second. “Dina, don’t do this, we can work it out-”

He was interrupted by the sight of another angel entering the room with Dean and slicing his cheek with knife. The angel moved so fast that Castiel didn’t even have time to say anything. He didn’t hear Dean’s cry of pain, but he definitely saw Dean’s brows shoot up and hunter’s eys squinting shut, as Dean flinched. Castiel wondered whether the angels even told Dean why they were hurting him… or whether he will have to tell Dean later once all of this was over.

“And you know what, Castiel? He knows exactly that we’re cutting, stabbing and punching him because his boyfriend wouldn’t spill the tea,” off-handedly mentioned Dina from somewhere behind Castiel.

“Let him go. You have me,” grunted Castiel.

“I have the box, to which he-” Dina gestured towards the window, “-is the key. It is known that you will do anything for the Winchesters, especially for the older one. Such a cute couple you are. So what it’s gonna be, Castiel? We got a deal?”

Castiel was on the verge of spilling all information just for Dean to be let go. And he realised that it was incredibly egotistical and selfish of him, to sacrifice everything for one person, but he couldn’t have it any other way. It was Dean.

And then something almost magical happened. Just as Castiel opened his mouth to agree to Dina’s demands, he felt a small crack in the right handcuff. Acting in a split second, Castiel pulled his hand up and to his right, breaking free of the bond, taking Dina by surprise. He dodged her attack with a blade and flung her against the wall, and considered charging on her but then realised that the angels might kill Dean if he kills Dina so instead he leapt up, crashing through the window into the room Dean was kept in, slamming the angel guarding him into the door, stealing his blade and effectively killing him with it. He then rushed to barely conscious Dean, hurriedly untying his wrists before Dina regained her strength.

“Cas?” mumbled Dean, trying to get up.

“I’m so sorry, baby, “ muttered Castiel, scooping Dean up and rushing out of the room onto the staircase. An angel charged in on them, but Castiel quickly deflected his attack and stabbed him with an angel blade. Castiel ran as fast as he possibly could up the stairs, holding Dean’s unconscious body in his hands. Slamming on the metal door at the end of the staircase, Castiel found himself in the dark alley behind a towering building. Castiel glanced back and saw Dina two more angels rushing after him. Being careful not to accidentally hurt Dean, he cradled him closer and decided to make a run for it. Around the building there was an old pick-up truck, and Castiel, without much hesitation, rushed towards it. Castiel thanked all deities and cosmic beings that it wasn’t locked,  put Dean into the backseat, taking off his trenchcoat in the process and stuffing it under Dean’s head and himself got into the driver’s seat. Putting what Dean had taught him to use, he hot wired the truck with shaking hands and slammed the gas pedal. The angel breathing became rapid and shallow as he tried to steady out his hands on the wheel. Making a sharp turn, he drove the truck out of the alley, as the wheels gave out a cringy screeching sound and the saloon filled with smell of burnt rubber. Castiel clenched his jaw and hit the gas pedal once more, as he drove the track through the crammed roads, fenced by askew buildings from both sides, towards the main road. He didn’t stop until he was at least 10 kilometres away. He pulled over, glancing back to make sure he wasn’t being followed and rushed outside and opened the backseat. Dean was still unconscious, so Castiel carefully placed a hand on his forehead, brushing outside unruly dirty blonde hair and commanded his grace to flow through and fix the damage done to the hunter. After a couple of seconds, Dean’s eyes flung open, as he inhaled deeply and woke up.

“Cas?” he said, grabbing onto the angel for support and sitting up.

“Yeah,” shortly said the angel, helping Dean to get into the passenger’s seat of the truck.

“Son of a bitch grabbed me from back entrance of the diner,”  grumbled the hunter, as Castiel got into the driver’s seat. “Thanks for healing me up by the way.”

“Dean,” tiredly said Castiel, turning to face the hunter, “I’m so sorry. They did such horrible things to you and all because of me.”

The hunter gave Castiel an exhausted smile. “It’s fine. I’ve been through worse. Plus, you saved me. That’s what matters.”

Castiel lingered for a second, then pulled Dean closer and wrapped his arms around the hunter, leaning in for a kiss. Dean’s lips still tasted a bit metallic from blood, but Castiel didn’t care. He was just glad Dean was okay and that Dean was still even willing to be with him after all the torture he endured because of Castiel. And in that moment, it hit him. Castiel realised what exactly he had to do in order to keep his hunter safe.

“This was never going to work,” mused Castiel, sitting alone in a featureless 2004 Toyota Corolla. His Lincoln was very recognisable and Castiel decided that would like to go unnoticed for this. He stared at the nameless motel in front of him with nothing to distinguish it from other building other than a neon red sign. It’s been two days since Dean’s abduction and near death and the angel spent those two days in conflicted thoughts. He concluded that there was no other way and he had to do what he had to do. That’s why in that morning he was sitting in front of that motel, about to make perhaps the hardest choice in his life.

A door of the motel flung open, tearing angel out of his train of thought and he saw Sam leaving in his tracksuit for his usual 5 am jog. Rising sun was playing on the windows of the motel, as the younger  Winchester made his way down to the street, not noticing Castiel. The brothers were on a case, so Sam shifted in his usual case-routine: after his jog, he would probably go the closest food joint, grab a salat for him and a sandwich for Dean, and surf the web for research on the case until Dean would show up at the diner. Which means Castiel had an hour at most alone with Dean.

Castiel waited for Sam to leave the parking of motel and got out of the car. He exhaled and on shaking legs walked towards the door of the motel. He hesitated at the door for a brief moment, but proceeded to knock twice. Better now than later.

“Who’s there?” hoarsely and rather angrily replied the older Winchester from behind the door.

“It’s me. Castiel,” replied the angel.

The door creaked as the hunter with a sleepy glare stuck his head outside. “What are you doing here, sugar? I thought you were still sorting it out in Heaven.”

“I uh- We need to talk.” Castiel made his way inside motel room, noting that the flannel the hunter threw on to open the door was still unbuttoned.

“Of course, Cas, what about?” Dean beckoned the angel in, wrapping his arms around him in the process and kissing the angel on the cheek. Castiel felt his heart plunge, because he knew what he had to do and that made every cell inside him ache.

“It’s about our relationship.”

Dean furrowed his brows, casting a concerned look at the angel, as he headed to the night table and grabbed a half finished bottle of beer from there.  “What is it, buttercup?” he said, settling on the bed.

The angel inhaled deeply and decided that it was for the better good. “Dean… What was between us… That could never work. We could never work.”

Dean froze. “What do you mean? Is it- is it something I did?”

Castiel swallowed a traitorous lump in his throat. “No, Dean-”

“Then I wasn’t enough for you? Is that it, Cas? I wasn’t good enough?” The hunter stood up and started pacing in circles around the motel room.

Castiel caught him by his shoulders and pulled him close. “You were more than enough, but-”

“I’m not your type?” Dean shook his head in confusion, furrowing his brows. He exhaled slowly, collecting himself and closing his eyes for a second. “Where did I go wrong?”

Castiel bit his lip. Everything inside him hurt. Dean’s eyes were becoming wet and seeing the hunter cry over something that wasn’t his fault, but was Castiel’s made the angel want to disappear. “You didn’t,” said Castiel, finally managing to get the words back under control.

“Then why are you saying that you have to go?” Dean tried to wrap his arms around the angel, but the latter one pulled away.

“Because look where it got us!” Castiel abstractly waved his hand around the room.

“I don’t understand-”

“You were nearly killed because of me! Our- our relationship, our bond that we share, it’s a- it’s a, a…” The angel stuttered, looking for the right way to put it, but Dean was quicker than him to catch on to his train of thought.

“A liability.” The word sounded like a stone thrown at a glass wall, shuttering it in pieces. “I’m a liability.”

Castiel’s lips narrowed into a thin straight line. “They were using you as leverage.”

“And you’re scared that next time we won’t be so lucky and we wouldn’t break out and you would actually have to give them what they want in exchange for me?” It was Dean now who stepped back.

“No-” The hunter didn’t let Castiel finish.

“And you can’t have that, can you?”

“That’s not what I meant-” tried to intervene the angel, but Dean wasn’t listening, as he was back to pacing around the room.

“Hell, it makes sense,” he mumbled on his way, not stopping moving for a second, “You’re fighting a friggin’ civil war, and giving out info every time I get captured is- is- is bad strategy!”

“It’s not what I meant!” yelled angel to interrupt Dean, who stopped dead in his tracks and gave the angel a weird long look.

“Then what did you mean?” he asked in a contemplative, alienated way, that was so unusual for Castiel to hear.

“You could get killed,” quietly said the angel, sitting down on the bed.

“Because they would fail to get what they want from you and they would actually proceed to their threats?” Dean’s forehead covered with tiny droplets of sweat, as he ran his hand through his hair.

“You’re twisting my words again, Dean. They might kill you just to… prove a point to me, without even asking for anything in return.”

“Is that so?” Dean collapsed in the chair, opposite Castiel.

Castiel furrowed his brows with a tilt of his head. “Of course it is!” he said in a raised tone, standing up. “I would give everything-” he emphasized this word with a rise in his voice- “for you. There isn’t a thing that I wouldn’t do for you.”

Dean blinked slowly, processing angel’s words. Then, he slowly rose from the chair and stood next to Castiel, stood painfully close, stood as if preparing for the kiss, which wouldn’t happen now, thanks to Castiel.

“Then stay. Stay for me. Don’t go,” finally said the hunter, with tears in his eyes and Castiel felt his grace rushing painfully through every inch of his body, feeling his body ache with pain that was non-existent, but it didn’t make it feel any less real.

“I can’t do that, Dean,” softly said the angel, as he started walking towards the door. “They would never stop coming for you,” he said on his way out of the motel room.

The angel opened the door, letting a large current of wind flowing into the room, sending papers flying all around the room. He didn’t notice that the weather worsened during his talk with Dean, that it was raining outside. Growls of thunder filled the room, as Castiel’s trenchcoat flew behind him almost like a cape.

“If you leave now, you lose everything!” yelled Dean, trying to be louder than the thunder. “You hear me, Cas? Everything!”

The angiel tilted his head and looked back just for a second, trying to etch Dean’s face into his memory. “I’m sorry.”

The door shut behind the angel.

Outside was storming. Castiel spied Sam returning early from his jog and hurried to the car. Sam already noticed him, but the angel was faster. He started his car and drove by completely confused Sam, who shouted something at him, but Castiel ignored him.

He didn’t stop until he was 50 miles away from that motel. He nearly got into an accident at least twice during his voyage. Stopping his car in the middle of nowhere, Castiel got out of the vehicle and sat on the hood of the car, not paying any attention to heavy rain. And in that moment he discovered something new about his species, something he was unaware for at least billions of years. He didn’t know angels could cry.

Dean sighed, inhaled and stepped down from the porch of the bar he spent last hour in. Sam was in the motel, doing research on the case they’d been working for the last 2 days  and Dean was intending to join him, maybe after going for a quick drive. It was raining, and even though Dean usually liked rain, it helped him think, he had grown to hate it as it was reminding him of that early morning 5 months ago. Dean cringed at the memory and headed towards the Impala, kicking up gravel on the ground. He was just reaching out for the key in his pocket, when somebody hit him with something heavy on the side of his head, effectively knocking him out.

Dean came to his senses in a grey featureless and familiar basement. If his head wasn’t pounding like a thousand devils had partied in there, he might have even rolled his eyes.

“You guys are dicks,” he shouted out to nobody in particular.

He was partially angry at himself, getting captured twice by the same captors felt embarrassing. And the other half of him that wasn’t screaming with frustration was screaming with fear, with anticipation of pain. Pain he didn’t deserve, pain he could do nothing to stop.

Abruptly he heard the  squeaky sound of the door behind him opening.  Slow clicking of heels on the stone floor did nothing to relieve Dean’s fear and aggravated his anger. He remembered too damn well who was the owner of the footsteps.

“Hey Dean,” said Dina in a soft voice as she appeared from his right and knelt beside him. In her hand she was holding an angel blade and in her other hand to Dean’s horror there was a small hammer. Behind her two angels in suits appeared, moving silently like snakes. Dean felt himself shiver.

“I don’t know if you got the memo, but I haven’t seen Cas for 5 months now,” said Dean, trying to make his voice sound the usual level of snarkiness and confidence, despite growing panic in his chest.

Dina smirked.  “I haven’t seen him in 5 months either.  But it’s not him that is the reason for this.”

She stood up and slowly started to circle around Dean, the sound of her high heels echoing around the room. “At this point I just wanna murder you for purely selfish reasons. I’m tired of chasing cold leads. Might as well get me some entertainment in between. Plus your death might attract our wayward angel,” she murmured as she slid her finger across the edge of the angel blade.

Dean felt everything inside him squirm. It wasn’t the first time Dean was threatened with death, but this time, the bad guy seemed done with monologuing way before someone could swoop in and fix the situation. Abruptly the floor beneath Dean’s fit trembled. Dean, torn out of his thoughts cast a concerned look at Dina. “Is this you or should we  be worried?”

Dina furrowed her brows but didn’t reply, just motioned to two other angels to check it out. As they headed towards the door, a force threw them back into the walls, as the door flung open. Light bulbs burst into millions pieces, as the entire room went into darkness and shook one more time with a growl of thunder. Dean heard a slight clinking of metal, as a small ray of light reflected on Dina’s now bared angel blade. The room was deadly silent.

“Show yourself!” yelled Dina. “No need to fight in the dark like cowards!”

“Very well,” said a quiet hoarse voice, a voice that Dean would recognise from millions.

As the lightning lit up the room, a pair of magnificent - damaged, but magnificent - wings appeared on the wall, as Castiel emerged from the darkness. His eyes were glowing blue, so bright that it was almost blinding and his trenchcoat was flying behind him in the wind.

“Make a move and I’ll kill him,” hissed Dina, holding a blade to Dean’s throat. Dean felt the coldness of metal just below his chin as he tried to lean back away from the blade.

“No, you won’t,” calmly said Castiel.

Dean felt the blade clatter into his lap, as Dina lit up from inside out and a soft sound of a blade entering flesh was heard. As the corpse of the angel collapsed on the floor, Sam, who apparently was the one to kill Dina, rushed to Dean from behind and started untying his wrists. “God, Dean, are you okay?” Sam hurriedly freed Dean’ right wrist

“Yeah, she didn’t even have time to touch me, you guys came on time,” grunted Dean, as he with Sam’s assistance freed his left wrist.

“Phew, thank god.” Sam helped Dean up and they started to head towards the door, when Dean stopped dead in his tracks.

“Where is Cas? How did he leave so quickly?” muttered Dean, gazing around the room.

Sam hesitated with the answer. “When you didn’t show up at the motel til morning, I called him to help me get you back. He agreed, but said that he wouldn’t stick around afterwards.”

Dean rubbed the nape of his neck. “Gone with the wind,” muttered the older hunter.

Sam furrowed his brows and gave his brother a concerned look. “Dean-”

“Tsh! Don’t say it, I’m fine. Let’s just go,” sharply said Dean and opened the door, pushing aside the corpses of angels with burnt-out eyes.

Dean woke up in the middle of the night. No wonder, he slept terribly after he was the only one in the bed. It took him around an hour to fall asleep after he and Sam returned to the motel near which Dean was kidnapped. They had taken two separate rooms on that trip due to having some… disagreements on their way there, so there was nothing and nobody to distract him and that fueled his insomnia. Dean sighed and stared at the ceiling, when he noticed something with side-vision. A figure, a painfully familiar figure, was sitting on the bedside near him.

“Cas?” sleepily grunted the hunter, recognising the blue eyes that shone bright even in the dark.  “You came back.” The angel flinched, taken by surprise by Dean’s awakening.

“I wasn’t- I was just-” Castiel hurriedly got up and headed outside of the door.

“Wait,” called out Dean behind him. “Don’t go just yet.”

Castiel stopped. His shoulders flinched, as he hesitantly turned around and slowly walked back, perching himself up on the very edge of the bed. “Yes?” asked the angel in a tired tone, with a slight voice break in the middle.

‘You were right, they did try to kill me,” said Dean, not knowing how to start the talk, but not willing to let the angel go just yet. He wasn’t angry at the Castiel, deep inside he knew exactly what the angel meant  when he said that it was dangerous for them to be together. And the angel did turn out to be right after all.

“I’m usually right.” Castiel avoided eye contact with the hunter. Nothing was heard in the room for the next couple of seconds.

“And you came and saved me,” continued his sentence Dean. His mind became clearer and clearer, sleep fading away.

“Well, me and Sam came and saved you. It wasn’t just me-,” said Castiel, furrowing his brows and slightly narrowing his eyes.

“Not my point,” cut him off Dean. “Cas,-” Dean grabbed the angel’s hand, making the latter one focus his attention on him, “-this is exactly what I was talking about. Any connections in this line of the work are a risk and we are liabilities for each other and the bad guys know it, but we get over it every time. And Cas, I need you.” Dean’s green eyes became slightly wet. “I need you so frigging much. These last 5 months been hell without you. And I can’t live without you. And you know what, Cas? I’d die for you any day. Because I know you’d do the same. So if you want to go, go. But just know that, what I went through today? I’ll go through worse for you.”

Castiel exhaled loudly and sat on the bed near Dean. “Dean-”

“No, Cas, I don’t wanna hear it. I don’t wanna hear the “they’ll never stop coming for you” speech again. Because I damn well know they won’t. But I’ll choose life with you over anything. So if you decide to come back, I’ll welcome you.”

Castiel hesitatingly looked directly at Dean for the first time since the hunter woke up. “I just want you to be safe, Dean.”

“And I just want to be with you. And I am not going to let you walk away another time,” shortly said Dean and patted the bed near him. “Come here.”

Castiel’s eyes lit up. “Dean, I’m so sorry. This should’ve been your choice-”

“Shh,” stopped him Dean, “Don’t apologise. You did what you did for me. Now come here.”

Castiel lingered for a second but then with a smile took off his trench coat, pants and blazer, throwing them in the corner of the room  and climbed under the sheets with Dean.

“Thank you,” murmured Castiel as he threw his arm over Dean, feeling familiar warmness beside him. Maybe their relationship was dangerous. Maybe they were liabilities for each other. Maybe they were constantly risking anything. But in that moment Castiel felt like he was the happiest angel to ever exist in any dimension. And he made a silent vow to himself to not throw it all away.

[butmomilovepeter]

Tell Me Your Troubles and Doubts, Giving Me Everything Inside and Out

read on ao3?

lads,,,i did something, im not sure if it’s it, cheif. is it cash money? idk.

(imma dedicate this bad boy to @jackklinelovesstarwars lmao this discord server is wickety wickety whack i luv it)

~

Sam wakes up, and he hates it.

He hates how used to this feeling he is; the feeling of waking up on ground, hurt and disoriented.

His back aches, and it’s a harsh reminder that “middle age” is closely creeping up to him. His head throbs from the blow that the ghost him and Jack (god, he’s a baby) were hunting gave him. He hurts. He can feel the broken ribs, broken nose, concussion, and the broken glass sticking to his body. And the exhaustion from insomnia seems to catch up to him as he lays on the floor, his body not willing to catch up with his mind.

God, he’s exhausted.

And suddenly, a voice is speaking to him.

“-am! Sam! Are you alright?” Jack sounds so worried and young, and Sam half wishes he wasn’t even here.

“I’m good.” He groans and swallows the nausea.

“No, no, no. Dean said—”

“It’s fine, Jack. Let’s just—gah!” His attempts to stand were trampled by the way the pain flared in his sides and behind his eyes. He feels Jack steady him, and puts a hand behind Jack’s back for balance

“We should get out of here.” Jack whispers, as the ghost looks back at the two of them angrily. (And Sam can barely remember why this ghost is vengeful anyway.)

“We can’t leave just yet. Lemme call—”

But Sam can’t even finish before he notices the blood seeping from Jack’s back covering his hand.

Sam’s breath hitches and their eyes meet.

“Jack, that’s not…”

“Oh, I-I-” and Jack starts falling.

“Jack? Jack!” Sam scrambles to catch the boy despite his body’s protests. He brings them both to the ground, with Jack’s head in his lap.

“The ghost—I didn’t realize it—” Jack chokes out, blood dripping from his mouth.

“Shh, it’s okay—it’s okay.” Sam reassures through gritted teeth. The ghost snarls at them before disappearing, and part of Sam is grateful. His head hurts and he knows he’s seconds from blacking out, but now he’s got a bleeding kid in his lap so that’s out of the question.

“S-Sam?” Jack’s voice is soft.

“You’re alright, you’re alright. I’m getting you out of here.” Sam scoops up the boy into his arms (and oh my Chuck it hurts.)

“What about the-the ghost?” Sam hates how Jack’s voice wavers. Sam tucks Jack as close as possible.

“Don’t worry about the ghost. I can call someone or…”

He trails off because it’s getting harder to stay focused, but Jack doesn’t seem to notice.

As Sam sets the kid down on his side in back seat, he gets a good look at the wound.

It’s not too deep, and Sam knows he’ll probably survive, but he still is bleeding a good amount.

And it brings up memories he half forgot.

Hey, look at me. It’s not even that bad. It’s not even that bad, all right? Sammy? Sam!

“It hurts…” Jack sniffles. Sam rubs Jack’s shoulder before pressing a spare flannel up against the wound. Jack winces, and Sam pretends not to notice the tears.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Sympathy drips from Sam’s voice. “It’s gonna be alright.”

“You sure?” Jack sounds like he’s also on the verge of passing out.

“It’s not even that bad, kid. It’s not.” He cringes slightly. It’s been eight years. “Hang in there.”

Sam has never been the best driver, but god knows he should have been arrested for that drive back to the bunker.

~

“Dean! Cas!” Sam’s own body is screaming at him as he makes his way swiftly down the stairs, Jack’s body suddenly raging with fever.

Dean comes sprinting in, eyes widening when he sees the damage.

“God, Sammy, what happened?” Dean asked as he guides Sam to a bed for the kid.

Sam laid Jack on his stomach, tilting his head up to take care of the fever in a minute.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam asked, blinking away the black dots. Dean looked up skeptically at his brother.

“He was away with Rowena, remember? We talked about it before you left?” Dean prompted. Sam inhaled and tried to think, but the dots grew larger and his feet stumbled.

“No-no...I-”

“Sammy? Sam, you okay?” His brother’s voice was muffled. Sam shook his head, grabbing the wall behind him. “Sammy! Sammy?”

Sam felt his brother grab his shoulders, but his brain fuzzed out.

~

Hey, listen to me. We’re gonna patch you up, okay? You’ll be good as new. Huh? I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna take you care of you. I’ve got you. That’s my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother? Sam? Sam! Sam! Sammy!

~

Don't get mad at me. Don't you do that. I had to. I had to look out for you. That's my job.

And what do you think my job is?

What?

You've saved my life over and over. I mean, you sacrifice everything for me. Don't you think I'd do the same for you? You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. And I don't care what it takes, I'm gonna get you out of this. Guess I gotta save your ass for a change.

~

I tried everything. That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry.

~

This is real. Not a year ago, not in Hell, now. I was with you when you cut it, I sewed it up! Look!

This is different. Right? Then the crap that’s tearing at your walnut? I’m different. Right?

Hey. I am your flesh-and-blood brother, okay? I’m the only one who can legitimately kick your ass in real time. You got away. We got you out, Sammy.

~

What happens when you've decided I can't be trusted again? I mean, who are you gonna turn to next time instead of me? Another angel, another -- another vampire? Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch your brother just-

Hold on, hold on! You seriously think that? Because none of it -- none of it -- is true. Listen, man, I know we've had our disagreements, okay? Hell, I know I've said some junk that set you back on your heels. But, Sammy...come on. I killed Benny to save you. I'm willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed mom walk because of you. Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you.

~

He wakes up again, and it hurts more than before.

It’s not real awareness, more of a feeling than anything.

In the time he was out, he managed to dig up memories he had wished to forget.

And then he remembers Jack.

“Jack-!” He sits up and immediately regrets it.

“Easy! Easy!” Dean’s hands easily guide him back down on the bed.

“Where’s Jack?” Sam gasps. A better question was; where was he? A second look around, and he was in his own bed. There was a bandage wrapped around where his ribs were, an ice pack on his head and bandages covering his arms and neck where the glass had entered.

“He’s with Cas now. His fever just broke before you woke up.” Dean looked a bit hesitant.

“What is it?” Sam asks, trying not to think of the worst.

“You got him here just in time, Sammy. It was close.” Dean told him. Sam exhaled with relief.

“And Cas fixed him up?”

“Good as new. He’s on his way to help you too.”

“Why?” Sam swallowed a groan. Dean chuckled.

“Sam, you’ve been out for seven hours.” Dean removed the ice pack and replaced it with another. Sam pretended to not enjoy it. “You didn’t wake up once when I got all the glass out.”

Sam tried for a chuckle himself, but it hurt like hell. (Not actual Hell. He’s been there.)

“I’m getting old.” Sam responded eventually.

“You and me both, brother.” Dean smiled in his very Dean Winchester way. Then it dropped slightly. “You were dreaming, though. ‘Kept on muttering things I couldn’t understand. You’re not having nightmares again, are you?”

Sam avoided his brother’s eyes.

“There was never a time I wasn’t, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t answer, instead places a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Go back to sleep, Sammy. We’ll patch you up.”

~

“Sam?” Jack whispers in the doorway.

“Hey, Jack. Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Sam says, trying his best to sit up. Jack was dressed in his pajamas (Star Wars themed, they were a Christmas present.) He looks behind him in both directions before shaking his head.

“Castiel said that I was fine but should be resting.”

He pulled out a laptop. “But I’m bored. Can we watch a movie?”

Sam smiles and moves over as best he can.

“‘Course. Our little secret.”

Jack smiles and gently sat down next to Sam, and pulled up the Netflix logo.

“It keeps recommending me The Breakfast Club. Can we watch it?” Jack sounds young again, but the good kind of young.

“A classic. I’m making you watch every John Hughes movie.” And despite his aching ribs, he pulled Jack close next to him. He tried to ignore the affection that filled his throat when the kid put his head on his shoulder.

“You scared me today.” Jack whispered, about a half hour into the movie. “You went down so hard and I didn’t even realize I was—”

“Hey, I’m okay, Jack,” Sam reassured. “And so are you.”

Jack smiled a small smile, and turned his eyes back towards the screen.

(Dean and Cas find them late at night, fast asleep while Some Kind of Wonderful plays in the background. The pictures will in fact be used for blackmail someday soon.)

[mycasandstarrs]

SPN 8x23: “Sacrifice”

THE ROAD SO FAR: Kicking ass, taking names. Dean got out of Purgatory. Sam hit a dog. Kevin discovered the way to close the Gates of Hell forever. Abaddon is in the wind. Naomi mind-controlled Cas. The trials are “purifying” Sam. Metatron. Crowley is putting the Winchesters in a difficult place. What will they do now?

(Set to the show’s official/unofficial theme song.)

Aww Jody!

Roderick. Crowley used his human middle name as an alias.

Why must I always be reminded of what Jody went through?

Man, Jody was just trying to get back on the dating scene. She didn’t deserve to almost die.

“You have less than one minute before a very dear, attractive, and slightly tipsy friend of yours snuffs it.”

“Call it off, Crowley.”

“Because?”

“Because it's over, you son of a bitch. We want to deal.”

Did the Winchesters already have their plan?

“First, I need to hear two little words -- I surrender.”

The show never let us hear Dean say “I surrender”. Good.

Nice location.

“You hid the Demon Tablet underneath the devil? Seriously?”

Sam looking like a real supermodel.

“All right, listen, this is a secret lair. You understand me? No keggers.” Kevin’s our next guest in the Bunker.

Houston, Texas. (Aaayyyy, my hometown!)

“What was he like?”

“Who? Oh. God? Mm, pretty much like you'd expect. Larger-than-life, gruff, bit of a sexist. But fair -- eminently fair.”

Hmm. I’d say that’s a good description.

The second “angel trial”: retrieve Cupid’s bow.

:Cas didn’t want to kill again.

Sioux Falls, South Dakota. 

At Bobby’s old scrapyard. (I bet it was Crowley’s idea to meet up here.)

There’s Bobby’s car. :( (Isn’t there any way they can take it with them and have it at the Bunker?)

“You know why I always defeat you? It's your humanity. It's a built-in handicap.“ Huh, didn’t Soulless Sam say something similar?

Who’s plan was this?

“Sooner or later, you're gonna have to face it -- you're ours. Which means that your demon ass is going to be a mortal ass pretty damn quick.”

“What's he mouthing on about?”

“You're the third trial, Crowley.”

Oohh!!!

“Would you say that you're looking for, uh, a partner in crime... ...or, uh, someone who's into nurse role-play and light domination?”

“Brother, it's 10:00 a.m. on a Tuesday.”

I love Cas.

(Okay, but tell me that doesn’t describe Destiel. Partners in crime, where one is into nurse role-play, Cas, and light domination, Dean.)

NOO, NOT THE BARTENDER.

“Stop. Please, Castiel, don't make this any worse. Please.”

“How you feeling?”

“Honestly, for the first time in a long time, it feels like we're gonna win. I'm good.”

Aww.

“You ever, uh -- you ever done the ‘forgive me, father’ before?”

“Well, once, when we were kids.”

What did Sam say back then?

“I have no clue what to say now.”

“Well, I mean, I could give you suggestions if you want.”

“O-okay. Yeah, sure.”

“All right. Well, I'm just spit-balling here, but if I were you, uh... Ruby, killing Lilith, letting Lucifer out, losing your soul, not looking for me when I went to Purgatory--”

Yeah Sam, you got a list.

“Well, that was you.”

“...Carry on.”

Pfftt. 

We won’t get to see Dean’s confessional until S10, I think.

“Okay, um...if anybody's listening, here goes.” I would’ve liked to have seen Sam’s confession.

Cas has come to Dean for help.

Metatron, meet Naomi.

Who would’ve known that between these two evils, Naomi was the lesser one?

"Of the blessings set before you, make your choice and be content." I do like that.

“Metatron, the guy who was full-on crazy, cat-lady-hoarder angel yesterday -- now he wants to save Heaven?”

“Yes, he wants to. But I'm the only one in who can. I can't fail, Dean, not on this one. I need your help.”

NOOO. What did I say about being the “only one” being shady??

“Now, if anybody needs a chaperone while doing the heavy lifting, it's Sam.” Of course that’s when Sam had to walk in.  

“Start the injections now. If I'm not back in eight hours, finish it, no questions, no hesitation.”

The third trial has officially begun.

“According to your own words this morning...this is not what I do. It's what I did. You told me I was out, Dean.”

“There is no out. Only duty.” Damn, Cas.

“...until the day you cease to exist, and then another Prophet takes your place.”

I love that Cas has to add that technicality.

Owww, Crowley! That hurt me.

He got a good amount of blood too.

Oh, we ‘bout to get it!!

“Your, uh, buddy over there thinks you saved his life.” AWW. Cas probably went over and healed him after the angels had left.

This could’ve been one of the last times Dean and Cas have a conversation...and it’s about whether Cas might die soon.

“So this is it? E.T. goes home.” You know damn well Cas doesn’t understand pop culture.

Gail, our Cupid.

“Damn, that's sweet.” “ Damn, that's sweet.”

There it was.

"Nice to Be with You” by Gallery.

Dean’s just in total awe.

I’m so proud my hometown is canonically the location of that scene.

Crowley would be singing that song. “Changes” by David Bowie.

“Hello, boys.”

Ouch. There went Sam.

“Give us your bow.” Slow your roll, Cas.

“Talk first, stab later.”

“Do you know what I find the most shocking about time-traveling through a closet and landing in the year 2013? Somebody thought it was a good idea to make you the King of Hell.”

“Right now, you and I are gonna talk about regime change.”

Burned Abaddon to a crisp. Good job, Sam.

Cas acquires cupid’s bow.

“...to sit at God's feet, to be asked to write down his word? The ache I felt when he was gone, telling myself, "Father's left, but look what he's left us -- paradise." But you and your Archangels couldn't leave well enough alone. You ran me from my home. Did you really think you could do all of that to me and there'd be no payback?”

Naomi ain’t buying it...but she seems to have figured out what he’s really up to.

Oh, is this the scene with Crowley?

It is!

“We just shared a foxhole, you and I. We beat back the Tet Offensive, outrun the --the Rape of Nanking together! And still you're gonna do me like this?! Aah! Aah! ‘Band of Brothers’? ‘The Pacific’? None of this means anything to you? All those motels, you never once watched HBO, not once? ‘Girls’? You're my Marnie, Moose. A-and Hannah -- she just --she needs to be loved. She deserves it.”

Wow. Fine acting form Mark Sheppard there.

“Would it be possible, Moose...I'd like...to ask you a-a favor, Sam. Earlier, when you were confessing back there...what did you say? I only ask because, given my history...it raises the question... Where do I start...to even look for forgiveness?” Mark Sheppard is truly doing a great job.

Human!Crowley was wonderful.

“Come on, Kev! We're on the one-yard line here.”

“Okay, a-and I should have mentioned this six months ago, but the sports metaphors -- y-you want to motivate me, "Magic" cards, "Skyrim," Aziz Ansari.”

“What? Yeah, I don't know what those words mean.”

Pfft.

“Metatron isn't trying to fix anything. He's trying to break it -- an act of revenge for driving him away.”

“Break it how?”

“Expel all Angels from Heaven, just as God cast out Lucifer.”

“Cast you out? To where? Hell?”

“Here. Thousands of us, walking the Earth.”

Naomi’s telling the truth.

Dean can stop a powerful warrior with one touch.

“If Sam completes those trials, he is going to die.” Oh dear.

“I will listen.”

“Dean, I'm not wrong. I'm going to fix my home.” I’m not sure which I consider more painful: that Cas was wrong, or that Cas still considered heaven his home.

Now knowing that Naomi’s still alive, it’s kinda obvious that a drill to the head wouldn’t have killed her and she was just catatonic here.

“She told you I lied, didn't she? You should've listened to the bitch.” Metatron, you asshole.

“What's going on? Where's Cas?!”

“Metatron lied. You finish this trial, you're dead, Sam.”

“So?”

That one little word shattered my heart.

“These were never trials, Castiel. This is a spell. And what I'm taking from you now -- your essence, your Grace -- is the last piece.”

The moment that changed Cas forever.

“Think about it. Think about what we know, huh? Pulling souls from Hell, curing demons, hell, ganking a Hellhound! We have enough knowledge on our side to turn the tide here.” 2 of these 3 things will come back. They’ll work a case that involves killing a hellhound in S12, and even sooner than that, they’ll cure demon!Dean.

“You want to know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It was how many times I let you down. I can't do that again. What happens when you've decided I can't be trusted again?”

(So Sam was jealous of Cas?)

“Hold on, hold on! You seriously think that? Because none of it -- none of it -- is true. Listen, man, I know we've had our disagreements, okay? Hell, I know I've said some junk that set you back on your heels. But, Sammy...come on. I killed Benny to save you. I'm willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed mom walk because of you. Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you.”

Dean loves his little kid brother very much, and it is the backbone of this show.

“Hey, listen,we will figure it out, okay, just like we always do. Come on.”

“Castiel?! Where the hell are you?” Cas can’t come to the phone right now.

And where the hell was Kevin gonna go??

What a tragic and beautiful shot.

“Angels. They’re falling.”

[atropaazraelle]

Personal

So you may have noticed I’ve gone suddenly quiet on the writing front for the last couple of weeks. I don’t anticipate that changing in the next couple of weeks, and for that I apologise. I’m going through some personal things at the moment, and wrestling my mindset into the one needed to write, or interact much is a struggle.

I am still here, and one way or another I do intend to finish what I’ve started, but for the moment I need to take a step back for a few weeks and do some re-evaluations.

My mum’s had breast cancer twice. Two primaries of the same kind of cancer. That means they weren’t linked. The second one didn’t grow from the remains of the first; another cell spontaneously mutated in exactly the same way.

She was 38 the first time. The last time was only two years ago, fifteen years after the all clear from the first.

I’ve had a scare myself before. I was 22 when I first found a lump under my nipple on my right breast. I was at university at the time and visited the campus doctor who told me to see my own GP, so I did, and she told me it was just a cyst and not to worry about it. So I didn’t.

Two years later I went back with another lump in my left breast. My doctor couldn’t feel it, but I was adamant it was there so she referred me to the breast clinic for an ultrasound. When I got there they felt the first lump and proceeded to tell me, rather brusquely, that they were going to scan and biopsy both because that wasn’t a cyst and I should have been referred two years ago. They found a third lump deep in the heart of my breast on the scan.

Fortunately they weren’t cancerous. I nearly lost my job with having had the biopsies and the resulting time off, but life moved on.

I’ve always been fastidious about checking my own breasts. I know which lumps are normal, where they get tender, where they swell at certain times of the month, and how the tissues are changing as I age.

This lump isn’t in my breast. Putting my arm up to do a breast examination completely hides it. It’s deep in the depths of my armpit. I only found it because it had felt bruised for a few days and when I got in the bath I felt that soreness when I moved my arm to my back, and put my hand over it. It was like digging the point of your thumb into a bruise. There was a lump there, and all around it was sore.

I saw the nurse at my doctor’s practice the next day and she gave me a course of antibiotics telling me I had no symptoms of infection but to take these just in case and come back if there was no change.

I have a physical job. I took the antibiotics, and explained to my boss why I couldn’t do some bits any more.

The lump hasn’t gone down. It’s no smaller, but it is less painful since cutting my activity levels.

I went back to my doctor today and she’s referring me for an ultrasound. It may be nothing. I’m young. I’m due to start routine mammograms next year. Everyone cites the fact that it hurts as a good thing, because cancer doesn’t hurt, not in breast tissue, anyway. But this isn’t obviously in breast tissue, and it’s not the lump itself that hurts, it’s the areas around it, especially underneath it. Pressing on the lump is like pressing something into a bruise.

With my mum’s history it’s hard not to draw comparisons. No one thought hers was cancer, either, not the first time. She was too young, it was probably just a cyst, or an infection.

It’s not my first time riding in this particular rodeo, but I’m so much closer now to the age she first was than the first time I went through this. It messes with your head, with the way you think. I look at my ongoing projects and there’s a voice in the back of my head going “What will you do if it is?” I was looking for a promotion opportunity, ready to move anywhere in the country for the chance to take that next step in my career. I live alone, I’ve got no dependents, no partner. I can go anywhere.

The search is on hold because “What if it is?”

What are my priorities if it is? My job, my house, my savings, where do they fall on the list of things I want to keep? How hard am I willing to fight for them if it comes to it? What sacrifices will I make, and have to make?

The things I haven’t completed, do I want to finish them? Will I be able to?

I can’t stop this stuff going around in my head. My thoughts are a near constant litany of the question, “What if?” There’s a part of my brain screaming at the part that keeps doing that, telling it to quit being such a melodramatic fuckwit. I’m young, it could just be a cyst. You’re tormenting yourself and it could be for nothing. It’s probably for nothing.

What if it isn’t?

I am so scared.

I don’t know how long it will be before I can get this cycle of thoughts under control. I need to, because I can’t put my life on hold for a what if. But it’s going to take me time, and I need to focus on my priorities at the moment. My mum’s as scared as I am, I think. I know the ultrasound will either make things worse or resolve it entirely, but I don’t know how long that’s going to be. I was only referred for it today.

I plan to write when I feel like it. I have the next OWAN sketched out, briefly, and it was always going to take a bit longer than the rest to get out there due to its nature. It’s going to take longer than originally anticipated. Right now I look at a page and ask if there’s any point when I don’t know if I can finish it.

So I’m not actively present and this is why. This is what I’m going through right now. I’m sorry my imagination is a dramatic bitch that clings to the worst case scenario like a terrier to the end of a rope. I’m trying to smack it on the nose and tell it to drop it, but it’s ill trained.

I’ll write again when I’m having a good day. I’m not putting anything on hiatus because I don’t want to give myself the excuse not to return to it. One way or another life will move on. One way or another I will finish what I’ve started.

So many of you have been so patient, coming back time and again for as long as you have. Thank you for that. Right now I need a little more time than I thought. I hope you’ve got enough patience for me to get my brain in order.

[fandompitfalls]

Dumping the whole pot of tea on The Irregulars.

Originally posted: 4/9/2021

Two weeks ago, I offered to write a post for my Scion’s blog on the Irregulars before I had even seen the show.  While I try to follow Paul Thomas Miller’s belief that “All Holmes are good Holmes” (not gonna lie, I fail sometimes, yes Ferrell, I’m looking at you), this show caught my interest because I’m a fan of Gaiman’s A Study in Emerald and I am a horror nerd, so it had me at “rift”. I expected to like it.

What I did not expect was to love it as much as I do and to have so many thoughts about it.  Thoughts, feeling, surprising revelations and low-key frustration about things regarding this show and the fandom.  There was tea that needed to be spilled and I couldn’t do that in a BSI related blog post.  But this is my blog, nobody really reads it anyway so I’m dumping the whole damn tea pot onto the table and we’re doing this.

This is your spoiler warning:  Below be monsters.  You were warned.

If you’re still here then you’re either interested, got sent this as a “look what this bitch wrote”, or you really want to see the tea.  I’ve got words, so many that they’re going to be split out in categories. So sit back, I’m sure I’ll insult everyone by the time I’m finished.

Family

This show is about family.  End stop.  Not the family you’re born into but the family you find.  The Irregulars are a found family.  The first set of Irregulars; Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Alice…whatever her last name was. They were close friends and tried to be a family in their own way, until anger, jealousy, resentment got in between that and shattered it leaving everyone left guilt ridden and resentful.  The second set of Irregulars: Bea, Jessie, Spike, Billy and Leo (yes, I’m counting him, he damn well earned his right into this family) are absolutely a found family.  They came together in the workhouse and a bond forged of mutual survival, protection and love was created. A bond that remained firm long after they all escaped and went out on their own. Even in episode six when there is doubt cast along everyone and Leo’s true identity is discovered, feelings are hurt, betrayal is strong and everyone goes their own way for a time, that bond is still there and is plainly shown in episode seven when the group is able to use that familial bond they’ve created and now strengthened to pull Jessie out of the nightmare world that the Linen Man has cast her into. It’s the bond that Jessie uses to convince Bea that sending the mother they both desperately wanted back into the rift was the right thing to do. It’s the bond that keep Leo, Spike and Billy willing to fight against the monsters to the death to protect their home and the victims they’ve rescued, not knowing that Bea and Jessie would close the rift but believing that they would.

Drugs

It was mentioned, even in the trailers and the summary for this series that Sherlock Holmes is drugged.  And yes, in fact for a good majority of the series, Sherlock Holmes is strung out on opium or cocaine.  It’s not the pretty strung out like scruffy hot Benedict Cumberbatch or the effervescent smoothness of Jeremy Brett.  Henry Lloyd-Hughes shows us the dark side of prolonged addiction; head shaven, stumbling around in filthy rags, vomiting over the side of the bed, pissing on the nightstand, wild with withdrawal symptoms. When Bea asks their mutual landlady, Mrs. Hudson about Sherlock, she calls him a drug addict and a bum. In episode four when Bea is in a race with Watson to see who can find Sherlock first, she is assisted in the Opium Den by one of the addicts who tells her “Just because we’re users doesn’t mean we’re bastards. Everyone down here is trying to numb the pain of something, grief, heartbreak, life in general.” The line resonates because while this is happening, the episode is juxtaposition Bea’s trips into the bowels of opium dens looking for an addict with the Palace where Leo is attending a party for the elite.  There he meets Eleanor Morgot who is obviously attracted to his title and position.  Later, on a balcony, she offers him a drug telling him he needs to loosen up.  Leo, high on…a tablet version of opium perhaps, we’re shown his trip in a dream-like quality. A far cry from a bedridden Sherlock on the floor scrambling for the few pieces of what he thinks is opium rather than sugar.  The use of drugs amongst the wealthy doesn’t seem to hold the same distain and disgust as it does in the bowels of London.  Which is an interesting play on society, not only in the time period in the show but even now.  Why is it cool and trendy to see the rich and famous snorting coke off a glass table using dollar bills or popping tablets, yet when Bob in the neighborhood is discovered to be using heroin, he is suddenly the social pariah.  Society’s view of drug use is defined on a scale of wealth and prestige. Sherlock Holmes, caught in the middle of this, his prestige holding at bay much of society’s distain, as seen in episode seven when Gregson doesn’t even blink when Holmes walks in to Scotland Yard wearing a filthy, ripped shirt and a green coat.

Mirrors and parallels

Let’s discuss mirrors and parallels together because I’m going to be going back and forth on these.  And we’re starting with the huge one, the Irregulars vs the Irregulars- it’s all fun and games until the monsters become more dangerous and someone goes through a rift. I’m talking about Alice, Sherlock and John mirrored in Leo, Bea and Billy.  My thoughts on John Watson will have their own section so I won’t get into much of them here, but by episode three, I could see where this was going.  Bea, who hadn’t really had any sort of attraction to anyone, finds herself attracted to Leo.  Billy, who has secretly loved Bea as more than an arrant sister for possibly years, suddenly has competition in this well-spoken newcomer and is forced to watch as Bea and Leo grow closer. On the other side, as we learn in episode five, Sherlock and Watson are riding high on their success as consultants to Scotland Yard when Alice arrives, and suddenly Watson has competition for Holmes’ affection and is forced to watch as Sherlock and Alice grow closer. How Billy deals with it throughout the final few episodes and how we see Watson deal with it are in no way mirrored to each other. While resentment and jealousy do grow in these two characters, it is Billy who realizes first that Bea is a person with her own thoughts and feelings, and she’s allowed to like whomever she wants.  Did it hurt him? Hell yes, the clueless idiot took out his frustration with not only trying and failing to make Bea jealous, but getting into fights including with Leo. But hating Bea and hating Leo for something nobody can control is pointless and by the end of the story, Billy chooses his family, willing to sacrifice and standing beside Leo in the end. Watson, on the other hand, doesn’t come to this realization until he experiences the losses and guilt of his choices and sees them played out once again in the next generation.  His frustration and jealousy festered for almost two decades before he was faced with the realization that nothing would have changed and only then, did he begin to let go, both figuratively and literally.

Speaking of Watson and Bea, the parallels between their two characters run true through the first episode- starting with their first meeting and ending at their last. Loyalty, stubbornness, anger, frustration with their lot in life, the anguish of people leaving them, all of it plays out between these two in blinding contrast and none so much as the theme of forbidden love.   The same characteristics that makes Bea such an expansive and intriguing character are also with Watson, just hidden under layers of resentment and guilt. The scene in episode four when Watson comes around the corner and sees Sherlock and Alice kissing and realizes he is never going to have the one thing he truly wants paralleled with the scene in episode eight where Leo tells Bea that he sacrificed his freedom for Billy’s release. He was going back to the palace and marrying someone names Helena.  Bea realizes in that moment that she will never have the one thing she truly wanted. There’s a scene between Watson and Bea when they’re hiding out in a closet in an Opium Den waiting for security to go past them.  He looks at her and says, “ It amuses me to think you can best me, I am better educated, wealthier and stronger than you are, tell me , what ability is it that you think you have that I don’t possess in greater abundance?” And while that may be true; John Watson is a man of means, ex-Army, particular friend of Sherlock Holmes and a doctor, he has forgotten what made him that way in the beginning. Everything he was, everything he is, that is covered under layers of bitterness, he sees either consciously or unconsciously in Bea. This is what highlights the final scene between Bea and Watson, when she breaks down and while it’s not proper to touch, he does so anyway because he understands.  “Everyone leaves me” - “I won’t” Realization and acceptance and shared grief makes this scene extremely powerful.

Finally, let’s talk about John Watson

I’m going to be honest, I made it through the first six episodes with plans to make buttons that said, ‘John Watson is a petty jealous bitch’, because damn. And before anyone comes at me with the idea that I don’t understand and of course John had the right to be upset or worse yet, heteronormativity (although, honestly, the lack of Alice hate is either shocking or I’m not in the right places), let me say that yes, I understand, but watching Billy take a angry visible step back from Bea and Leo juxtaposed with John attempting to open a rift so he can keep Sherlock in town and then making the obvious choice to ignore Sherlock’s plea for help when it came to saving Alice.  A choice that he had to make again with Alice’s daughter Jessie.  Watching John in the first six episodes all the signs are there, the old married couple, where John is shouting out the window at an escaping Sherlock that he doesn’t even want to see him again to the vicious way he comes after Bea when she discovers who he truly is.  Hell, we as the viewers don’t even see Sherlock and John in the same scenes together outside of the flashback until episode seven. This is how we see John Watson because up until then, this is how Bea sees John Watson. They’re told by Mycroft Holmes, the Linen Man, hell even by Sherlock Holmes through his story that John Watson is the wart on this story, he is the danger, he is the reason this is happening again.

Episode seven though, is where Royce Pierreson shines as John Watson. Because episode seven and eight takes a man that is universally hated by everyone in the series and flips it to a man who is trapped by society, rules, honor, duty, and his own self-loathing who tried to keep things as they were only managing to ruin things completely.  He turns from a cruel example of classism to a sympathetic character, a man who’s trying to do things right, who wants to fix what he did.  By episode eight, I was not only love John Watson as a character, but I was sympathetic to his situation.  His attempts at denial and rationalization in episode seven that finally culminated in the first time he ever spoke the words aloud “I love him” was just…damn, rip my heart out Royce and stomp on it because you’ve got me. From that moment on, all thoughts of buttons were gone from my head and I was, possibly for the first time, firmly in the John Watson Appreciation Society.  Royce never says a word during the scene when Alice returns and Sherlock is overcome with emotions, but you can just see in his eyes the dagger slowly piercing his heart and how he is silent, allowing the sisters and Sherlock to have their moment with Alice.  Even when Jessie begins to close the rift and Alice returns to Purgatory, he remains still, finally moving when Sherlock looks at him and utters those first self-aware words he might have spoken the entire series “You’ve been a better friend to me than I deserved John”.  And when he is once again faced with saving the man he loves or a woman that Sherlock loves, he finally lets go, making the choice to help Bea save Jessie and letting Sherlock step into the rift to be with Alice.  It’s a painful scene and it’s what makes the final scene mentioned earlier between he and Bea even more powerful.  She looked at him as asks, “How do you stop loving someone?” and his reply with “You don’t.” Just. Heart wrenching.

I have never shipped Johnlock in any of the series, but congratulations Royce Pierreson, you’ve got me shipping Johnlock.  Not only Johnlock but canon Johnlock.  It might be unrequited (maybe, there was a hint of subtext and there’s always Season two) but it’s canon.

Which leads me to the important question and one in which I will dump out the remainder of my tea: I checked Twitter and social media the weekend The Irregulars came out. I never heard a peep about this.  There is a show out there, with Holmes and Watson, that is set in Victorian London (monsters and cross-dimensional rifts notwithstanding) where the showrunner has explicitly given canon Johnlock and I haven’t heard a peep about it?  Why is that?  I have my theories, but I really hope they aren’t true because it just gives credence to long held theories. I’m hoping that I’m just maybe not in the right groups, but my social media feed is vast enough that something would have eked through but all I hear are crickets.

It seems my teapot is empty.  Anyway, let me hear your thoughts. Preferably here.  Like I said, I’m not a popular blog so I’ll be surprised if this one picks up traction. But hey, come and talk.

You have different theories?  Wonder why I didn’t speak on something that you saw? Find yourself personally insulted by something I wrote? Want to celebrate my list of favorite John Watsons going up to five?  Let’s brew a fresh pot of tea and discuss it.

[fapangel]

So you finally watched The Last Jedi. Thoughts?

It is worse than I could have possibly imagined.Sit down and buckle up, because this one’s a doozy. (Spoilersabound.)

AsI’ve previously detailed, it was clear the movie was a trainwreckeven before I watched it due to simple structural issues with thebasic plot, much of it inherited from The Force Awakens (which I didsee.) To wit, the movie is a sequel to the original trilogy, butcompletely ignores everything that happenedin the original trilogy. Having seen The Last Jedi, it’s nowblatantly clear thatthe new trilogy  was intended as a reboot - but that’s impossible todo when it’s shamelessly mining the OT for characters, concepts, andinformation. I’m not talking about the shameless density of nostalgiareferences and even aped plots in The Force Awakens, either - I’mtalking about The Last Jedi considered in a vacuum. (Just one exampleis Leia’s use of force power to pull herself back into her ship,which makes no sense without the original trilogy context.) Giventhe high praise some of my friends had paid the show, I’d been opento the possibility of it having merit as a movie, ifnot as a Star Wars sequel, butits inability toescape the structural/sequel critique presaged its complete and utterfailures in writing.

Thisis a point I must make explicit: TheLast Jedi is such a horribly written movie that it transcends merefailure; it is actively harmful and offensive, “problematic” inthe sense that the much-maligned “SJWs” use the term. Thisis the unassailable core of the offense that The Last Jedi (“TLJ”)offers. Much of what I’m about to bitch about, especially anythingto do with pre-established Star Wars canon, could have been glossedover, or even forgiven, if the core storytelling was solid enough. Ifit looks flashy and cool, adheres to rules that the audience knowsfrom prior films, oreven rules the film itself laid down earlier, anyaction sequence or detail of spaceships and tech can be made to work.Star Wars is classic Space Opera centered on Space Wizards; youcan get away with a lotifyou’re making one big concession to enable the plot and not justjerking the audience around every five minutes. But TLJ not only doesthat, it also has no story worth making concessions to enable. Theinescapably lethal flaw of TLJ is that none of the characters areworth a damn, and their arcs simply do not work.

That’sit. Without that, you have no story, period. Withthat,any number of flaws, errors, and plot holes might be forgiven, if thecore story is strong enough. Even if the core story isn’tstrongenough, one could at least acknowledge that the movie wasn’t a totaldisaster, it was just dragged down by too many errors, a death of athousand cuts. TLJ manages to have allof the ancillary problems, andno character story at all to make it worth a flying fuck.

Thiswon’t be a comprehensive dismantling of TLJ, as there’s more thanenough out there - I suggest seeing MauLer’sreviews, either the 30 minute “Unbridled Rage” or thethree-part,multi-hourtakedown for a truly exhaustive treatment. This is mostly Planefag’sPerspective (becuase people like it when I say the funny fuqq wordsapparently,) an explanation to my writer friends (which they’ll  findinteresting, as it’s rare for our opinions on works of fiction todiverge so strongly), and presentation of what seems to be aheretofore unmade argument - that TLJ is morally reprehensible bydint of the biases, prejudices and twisted ideas it perpetuates.

Yes,it is that fuckingbad. ButI’m saving the best for last. In order of magnitude, why TLJ is apile of steaming, utter shit:

NOT ONE SINGLEFUCKING CHARACTER ARC WORKS AT ALL.

Thisis the core, unforgivable failing - the complete absence of anyfucking story. This isespecially notable with Rey and Kylo, the lead characters of themovie around which everything else revolves. WhenRey and Kylo first spoke to each other across lightyears, I stood upand shouted “THE FORCEIS NOT A FUCKING SKYPE CALL!” Iwould’ve forgiven the Space Wizard liberties had the interactionsworked, but my wrathproved sadly prescient, as Kylo and Rey’s every interactionthereafter seemed like two teenagers awkwardly flirting over Skype…except they had far lesschemistry than that. As I write this, I find it difficult to evenrecall what they fucking talked about- the first time was Kylo surprised it was happening and Rey callinghim an evil murdering prick (for good reason,) the second time sherang him up when he had his shirt off and he told her to “let go ofthe past, kill it if you must,” and the third time she told him shesensed conflict in him, they touched hands through The Force, and she“saw his future” through this, because Rey Is Very Good At TheForce.

Onthe basis of these three interactions, Reygoes from Kylo Ren’s sworn enemy to moist and thirsty for histhrobbing red lightsaber. I shit you fucking negative. Uponthese three brief conversations,the central character story of the entire movie rides- and they come nowhere close topulling it off. There’s so many reasons for this that it’s hard tosummarize them. Rey’s shown to be pining for her family again(despite having moved past this in her character arc in The ForceAwakens, but Rian Johnson can’t keep shit consistent in his ownmovie, much less thesame fucking trilogy.) She’s angry at Kylo for killing his father,Han, whom she was adopting as a father figure herself (their firstchat takes place after Luke asks after Han and Rey accuses Kylo ofit, so this is expressly brought forward into TLJ.) So when Kylo ripsinto Rey over her parents; pointing out that they were white trashthat sold her into servitude for drinking money and never cared abouther, before telling her to kill her past, he’sonly reminding her that he had something she never did and alwayswanted (a loving family,) and that he fucking murdered saidfamily. There’s no wayRey could empathize with Kylo over this.

Butwe’re supposed to ignore this, and believe that Rey now feels someempathy for Kylo because she 1. saw him with his shirt off and 2.touched his hand and Sensed The Good In Him Through The Force.

Whata load of complete and utter fucking horseshit.

Thereare other arcs, and they all fall flat on their fucking faces aswell. For starters, Luke.Luke’s arc, especially, cannotbe insulated from continuity criticisms because he’s the mainfucking character of the Original Trilogy, andTLJ leans heavily onthat lineage for its setup. The climax of Luke’s character arc wasachieving the seemingly impossible - redeeminghis father, Darth Vader, who had fallen to evil decades ago andcommitted untold numbers of atrocities. Andin TLJ, Luke actually contemplates CHOPPINGHIS OWN NEPHEW’S FUCKING HEAD OFF becausehe “sees darkness in him.” The man who’s crowning, definingachievement was redeeming his Father from the dark side isconsidering NEPOTICIDEbecause the kid mightfall.

Evenif you ignore that, why Luke’sinsists that“the Jedi should end” is never explained, as he never says itoutright and never finishes a single lesson with Rey which issupposed to teach her why.Why does he extrapolate hisfailure to mean the entire galaxy isbetter off without them? His interactions with Rey accomplishnothing; he basically tells her to fuck off for a while, decides to“teach her,” promptly tells her she’s supor haxx0rz powerful likeKylo, watches her master lightsaber-ing because she knows how toswing a metal quarterstaff, and is then told by Yoda himself thatthere’s nothing in the ancient Jedi tomes Rey needs, because she’s sofucking special she knows it all already. Yoda fucking torchesthe ancient temple-tree-library to make his point that Luke’s always“staring at the horizon instead of at what’s in front of him” andthat he needs to focus on the here and now; implicitly saying thatRey was right, and he shouldhump his ass out there to “face down the First Order with a lasersword”…

…but instead of doing that, he literally phonesit in from half a galaxy away with The Force, puttinghimself in (almost) no danger, but fucking dies anyways,meaning he died as he lived; agrouchy old coward who never did face down his own apprentice andanswer for his mistakes. Luke’sarc makes no fucking sense, achievesnothing, and goes fucking nowhere.

Finnand Rose was portrayed as a budding relationship, except there wasn’ta single fucking hint of it being romantic till she kissed him at theend of the show after a pat speech about “saving what we love.”In the beginning of the movieshe tazes Finn (yes, the black man got tazed) for trying to skip townin an escape pod, which she found personally offensive because hersister had just died in the opening battle to defend The Resistance.At the end of the movie, Finn is willing to sacrifice his life todefend that same Resistance, his character having actually grown -and Rose rams him off-course before he can do so, despitehaving tazed him earlier in the movie for dishonoring hersister’s sacrifice to defend the exact same cause. Atbest, this means shewas only truly concerned with her personal loss, which would make hera self-centered, selfish cunt, willing to sacrifice the lives of manyothers (and potentially the freedom of the entire Galaxy) for her ownemotional needs. But it’s not portrayed as a selfish decision - it’sportrayed as the right one,which taps into an entire larger problem of its own I’ll touch onlater. It’s the same problemthat’s entirely responsible for crippling Poe’s character arc. Finnand Rose were simply dealt the coup de grace by it, as theirpreceding scenes together were sparse; involving them coming up witha plan to save the rebel fleet (seconds after Rose had tazed him,bro, and had no reason to do a 180 and start trusting him without anexplanation that he never did give,) a monologue about how shitRose’s life was and How Capitalism Is Bad on the casino planet, and abrief “well we’re fucked and by extension THE ENTIRE GALAXY but westuck it to the man, how cool,” and Rose has a moment where shesets an animal free and says that was superior to making baddieshurt, setting up her closing line later.

Andthat’s it. That’s fucking it. Comparethis to Princess Leia in the original trilogy. Her response to aStormtrooper walking into her cell - someone who she has every reasonto assume is there to take her to a torture session (as she wasclearly shown being tortured some minutes earlier in the movie,) isto comment wryly on his height. Andseconds after breaking out of the jail cell, she’s shouting orders atpeople, spraying the air with energy from a stolen blaster rifle, andin fact leading themout of the immediate danger (“Someone’s got to get us out ofhere!”) And during this entire sequence herrepartee and rivalry with Han Solo is already being established, the“excuse me Princess” cranked to the max. The friction that beginstheir relationship is Han butting heads with her before witnessingthat she’s dangerous,composed, and competent in emergency and combat situations. Notonly is their relationship developed during actionsequences of real consequence, as well as down-time chats, but italso takes three entire moviesto build to a climax. Comparedto that writing, Rey jumping on Kylo’s dick after three Skype callsand Rose giving one rusty fuckabout Finn are egregiously bad.If you criticize the OT andthink TLJ is superior, you have a lot toanswer for, right there.

However,Finn himself had potential - if only because his character was theleast tampered with, so one could assume his character developmentfrom TFA was intact, and TLJ’s script hinted gently in support of itand never against it. He started TFA just wanting to run like abitch, and by the end had come to care, at least, about defendingRey. He was trying to hare off after Rey in the beginning of TLJ, andby the end had committed fully to a cause, the opposite cause of theone he’d abandoned at the opening of TFA. It’snever really covered why hegrows like this - at the very beginning he goes from wanting to legit to forming a plan with Rose to save the fleet instantly. He wastalking his way out of being shoved in the brig at the time, but henever takes a subsequent option to duck out; in the space of a fewseconds he’s committed himself to a dangerous recon mission that willend with infiltrating an enemy capital ship withapparently no qualms whatsoever. If this was ever covered indialogue, it was so brief I completely missed it - and this isprobably why his arc “worked” the best; it wasn’t the focus, so Ididn’t care much about how it happened… plus, by the end, Finn isthe only halfway relatable character at all, beating Rose by alandslide because we have awhole movie of development for him (TFA) as opposed to one briefboo-hoo monologue from Rose (oh and her sister died boohoo.) He’s nota fucking Mary Sue like Rey, he’s not entirely certain about his rolein things, and so at the end, when he makes the decision tosuicide-run the Very Big Gun, there’s actually some investment andaudience-character empathy there. Finn,alone, is the only character we can empathizewith.

Andthen fucking Rose putson a stellar display of Asian Driving Skills and robshim of his moment,because-

EVERYBODY WITHA PENIS IN THIS MOVIE IS ALWAYS WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING ALWAYS,BECAUSE FUCK MEN

Thisis not an exaggeration. In my priorcomments I mentioned that just because everyone saidthis was the case didn’t mean Ibelieved it, because I’ve seen the CHUDs hurl the same complaints atobjectively excellent movies (the latest Mad Max, forinstance,) and that’s before theGamer/pol/Gate crowd made counter-bitching at the SJW bitching apastimefor casual amusement. I wasexpecting some token casting, some throwaway GRRL POWER lines, etc.

Instead,I got the most misandrist movie I have ever seen.

It’snot just a matter ofwriting every male character to be stupid and every female characterto be smart - the laws of probability themselves bendover backwards to make everything a woman does the right choice, andeverything a man does the wrong one… except even when the Universedoesn’t do that, theman gets his ass chewed out anyways for making the rightcall.

Butthat came later. My first exposure to the misandry came in the formof Admiral Holdo, a purple-haired, ballgown-clad fleet Admiral wholooked like she walked out of Tumblr SJW Central Casting. But despiteThe Internet having named this character as egregiously bad manytimes, nothing, nothing prepared me for the actualperformance.

LauraDern deliberately portrays Holdo as a venomous, imperiousbully.

Onehas to actually see the performance to appreciate howdeliberate and well-done it is. Laura Dern crosses her arms, doesn’tface the person she’s addressing, literally looks down her nose whenshe does, and even does that particular kind of sneer whereone bites their lower lip and looks at someone like they’re dogshit.Laura Dern’s delivery perfectly matches the scripted lines - sheresponds to a straightforward request for information from Daemon Poeby insulting him, then attacking him- “My plan? Like yourplan which destroyed all our bombers?” She then proceeds to attackhis manhood, calling him a stupid little gung-ho flyboy, and advisinghim to “stick to his post and follow my orders” with the exactsneering tone of someone saying “sit down and be a good littleboy.” The soft-spoken volume of the delivery just drives it home -it’s the “oh, honey” condescending shitpost meme made manifestand played entirely straight.

Theworst part of this performance is that Hold is supposed tobe an Admiral, a military officer. Poe eve drops a line about herbeing the hero of such and such battle to establish that she’ssupposedly respected and famous - and then she proceeds to shredthat impression by acting like anything but a militaryofficer. Captain Janeway on Star Trek: Voyager wasn’t verynice - in fact, she could be an outright rude asshole - but shealways sounded like a Captain when Kate Mulgrew delivered herlines. She didn’t deliberately humiliate or insult people by saying“sit down like a good little boy;” she’d say “I’m the Captain,get the fuck off my bridge before I brig your ass forinsubordination.” That’s how the military works; there is achain of command, and those who challenge it are reminded thatthey’re pissing on God’s leg, and God does not fuck around. Todeliberately portray Holdo as literal stereotype of a “nastywoman” suggests that Rian Johnson actually thinks this is what a“strong woman” should look like. And in fact, Laura Dern saidthis explicitly:

Speaking about her character’sstylish-yet-firm leadership, Dern told VanityFair: “[Rian is] saying something that’s been atrue challenge in feminism. Are we going to lead and be who we are aswomen in our femininity? Or are we going to dress up in a boy’sclothes to do the boy’s job? I think we’re waking up to what wewant feminism to look like.”

So apparently CaptainJaneway wasn’t a real woman, because women simply can’t beauthoritative and direct, and if they are, they’re just playing asthose toxic men. From the director’s point of view, a “strongwoman” is a viscous, venomous bully who replies to peoplerequesting information by insulting, mocking, humiliating andsneering at them instead of firmly asserting their lawful authorityand citing their own reputation for competence.

Rian Johnson bothdirected and wrote the movie, so in this one scene, everythinghe believes is coming out - the epitome of an entire plot ruledby the iron fist of misandrist horseshit. The scene itself isan example. The movie opens with the Resistance evacuating a planetas the First Order fleet (led by a massive dreadnought with an“autocannon”) closes in. Poe Dameron, the aforementioned “flyboy”attacks and destroys the dreadnought, against Leia’s orders, just asit is explicitly shown to be locking its Big Scary Gun ontoLeia’s command cruiser (there’s even a cut to Leia’s face toemphasize the point.) There’s nothing to suggest that Leia’s cruiserwould’ve gone to lightspeed before then if not for Poe’s attack;despite him landing in a hurry, we know X-Wings arehyperspace-capable themselves (within this movie, in fact, as we’reshown an X-Wing underwater on Luke’s island; presumably his ridethere,) and as a Captain and, apparently, the Resistance’s fieldcommander, Poe would know the rally point the Resistance isevacuating to.

The movie itselfshows that Poe saved the command cruiser, and with it, the entirecommand staff of the Resistance - and for this he is first demoted byLeia for disobeying orders, and then viciously insulted by Holdo whenhe simply asks her for information. When the First Order follow theResistance through hyperspace with some newly-invented trackingdevice, Kylo Ren and his fellow Spess Fighters zoom in and blow upthe cruiser’s launch bay with torpedo-like missiles… and are thenimmediately ordered to retreat because the capital ships “can’tcover them that far away.” This makes absolutely no fuckingsense, as in the battle scene immediately prior, Poe attackedthe dreadnought to take out its “surface cannons” to clear theway for the Resistance’s bomber ships to attack, and the captain ofsaid ship explicitly says that those guns can’t hit fightersand that they should have their own fighters out there - “fiveminutes ago,” no less, as if lampshading the plot convenientincompetence makes it okay. And since two torpedo-like missilesutterly destroy the command cruiser’s launch bay, you can surmise theFirst Order doesn’t require huge, plodding, and stupidly vulnerable“bombers” as the Resistance used to take out the dreadnought.Said dreadnought didn’t have any visible shield protection during thefirst battle; (especially obvious because we’re later shown capitalship fire hitting the shielding of the command cruiser with verydistinctive special effects,) and in fact the command cruiserexplicitly “focuses its shields aft” to fend off thepursuers capital-class weaponry, just to create the opening for Kyloto nuke the hangar bay (and blast Leia into space as well.) Thereis absolutely no fucking reason the First Order fighter-bomberscouldn’t have finished off the command cruiser right then and there,but we’re simply shown Kylo’swingmen being shot down (by what, we never see,) as he’s told “theycan’t cover him out there” as an excuse. The movieviolates its own rules just to take away Poe’s X-Wing and put Holdoin charge.

Andthis is just the fucking beginningof the Universe itselfbending over backwards to invalidate everythinganyone with a penisdoes. Poe is the one that authorizes Finn and Rose’s sidequest tofind a “master codebreaker” at the Gold Saucer (to sneak on thebad guy’s ship to disable their tracker so the fleet can escape,) buttheir plan fails because Fuck Anyone With A Penis. But that’s not theoffensive part. Earlier, Poe sees Holdo’s fueling the transports, andangrily points out that said transports will be sitting ducks for theenemy’s guns. He asks Holdo againfor a plan, and shefeeds him some fucking bullshit non-answer about “hope being aspark that lights a fire.” With the entireResistance Fleet nowdown to one cruiser (outof three starting ships), Poe intelligently determines that Holdo isfucking useless and stages a mutiny so he can see his own planthrough. Holdo defeats her captors by not getting shot the moment shetwitches and winning a point-blank firefight with much younger combattroops because fuck you. Nowback in command, she sees off Leia (just awake after her impromptuspace-walk) and on thetransports, Leia tells Poe that “Holdo knows the First Order won’tbe scanning for small ships like this.”

Yes.That’s the explanation. Poe Dameron - the fleet’s combat commanderand fighter pilot, someone who’s fucking job isto understand the capabilities of the ships in their fleet - didn’tknow this, but Admiral Holdo did because she has a vagina andtherefore is perfect. They’re boarding the transports to “slipaway” to another planet - visiblethrough the fucking window - andyet the First Order - WHOWATCHED THESE PEOPLE EVACUATE THE LAST PLANET ON THESE TRANSPORTS -“won’t know to lookfor small ships like these.”

Butwait - it gets worse. Finn and Rose’s mission failed, not becausethey were simply caught by security or because they were attemptingsomething that Ben Kenobi, an experienced Jedi knight had to give hislife to accomplish in Ep. 4 whenthe enemy was letting them go, butbecause a traitor betrayed them, who also, conveniently, tells thefirst order about the transports, so they’re revealed by a“decloaking scan” (which implies the transports have cloakingdevices; i.e. an inherent designed ability of the vessels, not just asmaller sensor signature inherent to their size, ergo something POEDEFINITELY SHOULD HAVE KNOWN ABOUT.) TheFirst Order starts blasting transports out of the sky, and of coursethis is all Poe’s fault.

Andthen there’s the Robbing of Finn. Admiral Holdo kamikazes the commandcruiser into the First Order fleet with the hyperdrive (itself afucking massive, retarded plot hole to end all plot holes), thussacrificing herself to Save The Resistance. And yet when Finnattempts to do THE EXACT SAME FUCKING THING not20 minutes later in the movie; a kamikaze self-sacrifice to save theentire Resistance, Rose rams into him to stop because “we shouldsave what we love instead of destroy what we hate.” This line isdelivered as the Big Gun blows up the base’s doors, thus sealing theResistance’s Fate… but wait! They all escape through a back doorbecause Rey shows up just in time to use her never-trained,never-practiced Force powers to clear a rockslide for them. Rose hadno way of knowing this would happen; meaning her ramming of Finn was,as far as she knew, condemning everyoneto death and her andFinn, at best, tocapture and execution by the First Order. But as usual, the Plotitself bends over backwards to make her choice the correct one, andFinns the wrong one.

Shortlyafter this, Poe “completes his character arc” by acting on whatLeia told him (“you have to run not fight sometimes”) andparroting that fucking arrogant bully bitch Holdo’s fortune-cookieAesop about sparks lighting fires, finally acknowledging the WisdomOf The Females, despite everychoice he made in this movie beingthe objectively correct ones, given the knowledge that he as acharacter possessed.

Andwe haven’t even talked about Rey yet.

Ohmy fucking god, Rey.

Reyis the biggest fucking Mary Sue I have ever seen. This,like every other blunt statement in this piece, is not anexaggeration, as much as it saddens me. Rey can fail at nothingshe attempts. Rey has towork for absolutely nothing she gains. Rey has as much raw power asKylo, at least (by Luke’s own judgment,)and she is moreskilled than he is at lightsaber fighting as evidenced by her savingKylo afew times during the throne room fight. This,despite having notraining in the weapon(which has no mass and can lop off her limbs easily, unlike the metalquarterstaff she’s experienced with) compared to Kylo, who trainedunder Luke himself foryears before moving on to whoever the fuck Snoke was supposed to be.Rey can just touch Kylo’shand and “see his future” isn’t all dark, when the much moreexperienced Luke did the same and only saw darkness. Rey can temptKylo to betray his master and move towards the light after threefucking awkward Skype calls. WhenLuke ignored his master and left in the middle of his training torescue his friends, he got his fucking ass kicked, his handcut off, and his lightsaber lost. WhenRey does the exact same thing, SHE BEATS LUKE MOTHERFUCKINGSKYWALKER IN A MELEE FIGHT, FLIES OFF INTO SPACE, AND SUCCEEDS ATTURNING EDGELORD MCSITHBOI AT LEAST HALFWAY AND SAVES THE ENTIRERESISTANCE BY LEVITATING A WHOLE FUCKING ROCKSLIDE WITH NO TRAINING,WHEN LUKE, WHO WAS ACTIVELY BEING TRAINED, STRUGGLED TO MERELY STACKONE ROCK ON ANOTHER AND COULDN’T HOIST AN X-WING THAT WEIGHED LESSTHAN THAT WHOLE ROCKSLIDE PUT TOGETHER.

Reyis a stupid boring nothing, who’s emotions and struggles I can’t finda single fuck to give about because she’s never in any realdanger, never has to work for anything she gets, and never developsas a person at all. I didn’t criticize her character arc because shenot only lacks one, she’s arguably not even a character at all -there’s seemingly no limit to her abilities, no flaws or pitfalls forher character, since everything she does turns out to be the rightcall (sound familiar?) and only the barest suggestion of whatpersonal goals she seeks (and those aren’t sold one fucking bit bythe story development.) For all effects and purposes Rey is a walkingavatar of the Plot itself, or as Rian seems to call it, The Force.

FuckRey and the bantha she rode in on.

THE PLOT IS THE MOSTNONSENSICAL, LAZY PILE OF FUCKING SHIT EVER PUT TO PAPER BY MORTALMAN

Muchof the plot’s problems originate from what I described above; thevery rules of the universe bending over backwards to serve RianJohnson’s twisted misandrist worldview. But they don’t stop there,by a fucking long shot.

Muchhate has been thrown at those “bombers” in the movie’s opening,but as I said before, TLJ cannot stand on its own even in relationto itself. Ignoring all of pre-existing Star Wars canon, eventhings belonging to the “new movies” like Rogue One, within TLJitself, fighter-bombers are shown delivering grievous damage to acapital ship when Kylo’s wingmen blow the shit out of Leia’s bridge,using torpedo-like missiles that can strike at a distance, launchedfrom fast, maneuverable craft. Said cruiser’s bridge was explicitlyunshielded at the time, since its shields were “focused aft” tofend off turbolaser fire - something that’s shown with distinctivespecial effects that were totally absent when Poe was blasting lasercannons off the First Order Dreadnought in the beginning (ergo, itwas unshielded for some reason.) So the movie itself has shownthat unshielded targets can get the shit blown out of them byfighter-bombers firing torpedoes and that the dreadnaught wasunshielded.

Ionly mention this because it really pissed me off personally, andbecause it showcases Rian Johnson’s dogshit sense of drama andaesthetics, as he had a hardon for “WWII bombers” and apparentlythought it’d make for a better, tenser combat scene than Y-Wingsweaving and dodging through AA fire and enemy fighters like VT-8making their courageous, doomed run at the Kido Butai atMidway. The actual plot itself doesn’t have “holes,” asthat implies an otherwise cohesive structure with missing bits. Theplot is 90% holes and 10% substance, a sieve trying to hold meaning.

Theentire movie’s plot is set up by a “low speed chase,” theResistance fleet fleeing from the First Order’s fleet at sublightvelocities, because the First Order is using a “hyperspace tracker”that’ll allow them to chase the Resistance at FTL anyways. TheResistance’s cruisers are faster, which allows them to pull out oflethal range of their enemies, but - as a First Order officer says -“they’re faster and lighter but they can’t get away from us.”

Thismakes no fucking sense. If they’re faster - even by a smidgen -they’re faster. If they can pull out of laser cannon range tostart with, they can keep pulling out of range. They mightsimply maintain range once clear, to save fuel (because ships needfuel and they’re low, of course - something never, ever mentionedbefore in any Star Wars film ever,) but this makes no sense when youconsider that the objective of Admiral Holdo (which she won’t tell tofucking anyone) is to reach a planet with an old Rebel base with atransmitter powerful enough to “contact our allies in the Outer Rimand call for help.” In which case it’d make sense to haul ass forsaid planet, so they have some time to call for help and wait for itsarrival without the First Order launching a ground assault almost assoon as they land, right?

Butwait! Rey delivers herself to the First Order’s flagship via zippingin from Hyperspace with the Millennium Falcon, very close - beggingthe question of why the First Order (apparently not low on fuel)can’t use Hyperspace themselves to zip ahead of the Resistance fleet(even if they’ve got to bounce to a neighboring system due tominimum-range reasons) and cut them off, or just do a direct jump tocatch up. Worse, Finn and Rey take a hyperspace-capable shuttle toCasino World to execute their convoluted plan, which begs thequestion - why didn’t Holdo order an engineering team onto theshuttle and send it ahead to the old Rebel base? HOW MANY FUCKINGPEOPLE DOES IT TAKE TO WARM UP A REACTOR, BLOW THE DUST OFF A CONSOLEAND PLACE A FUCKING COLLECT CALL?

Thesecomplete failures of intellect - yes, even the infinitely stupidhyperspace kamikaze thing - all have one thing in common: they orientaround plans and facts that aren’t revealed to us till the lastminute, so we won’t notice these problems. It’s also because RianJohnson only cared about “subverting expectations” and provingthat his super special women were so clever and right all along, sohe clearly pulled plot elements out of his ass as he deemed themconvenient.

Ifyou’re one of my Twitter followers who usually tunes in for my vagueranting about defense-related matters, some necessary context isneeded: I’ve written literally thousands of pages worth of “quest”fiction; where I write anywhere from a few paragraphs to a few pagesof fiction, then have my audience vote on what the main characterdoes next - and the content itself is anime fanfiction. And Iam dead serious when I say that, at my worst, when Iwas pulling shit out of my ass on the spot, writing almost inreal-time and posting updates without stopping to proofread or editat all, I never did anything this fucking lazy. At myworst - writing that was so awful I wouldn’t wipe Assad’sass with it - I put more effort into my plot and consistency thanRian Johnson did with his titanic budget and multi-billion dollarstewardship of a beloved brand and franchise.

Andthat’s why I don’t find the hyperspace kamikaze moment offensive onits own merits. It’s horrific, yes - it invalidates space combat inthe entire setting, as well as begging questions specific to themovie (why didn’t Holdo use it outright, for instance?) but thesearen’t any worse than the numerous other stupidities that belabor theplot. What makes the hyperspace thing stand out to me is the attemptto excuse it - two throwaway exchanges. A First Order bridgeofficer notes that Holdo’s cruiser is spinning up its FTL drive, andthe commander dismisses it as an attempted diversion to lead themaway from the transports they’re potting like ducks. This isapparently the excuse for why Holdo didn’t do it earlier - she neededa distraction to allow time to turn. Nevermind that the other twoships with them - that ran out of fuel and were destroyed, afterevacuating their crew to the command cruiser - could’ve providedthis option hours earlier. The two lines make it clear that RianJohnson was aware of this plot hole, and he tries to paper it overwith two brief dialogue lines, as if that’ll excuse everything.

Theentire fucking movie is riddled with lines like this; barebreaths that have to carry the entire movie’s fucking plot setup. Reymentions to Luke that the First Order will “control all the majorsystems within weeks” at the beginning. The Order officer’s singleline that explains the Low Speed Chase the entire movie revolvesaround. Leia’s offhand mention of the old base with the Transmitterof Sufficient Power to reach Their Allies In The Outer Rim. Etc. TLCis demonstrably lacking “downtime” as a movie - think Luke, Hanand Leia chatting in the base on Hoth (“laugh it up, furball,”)the briefing in Episode 4 laying out the Death Star attack, etc.Fiction writing calls it pacing, and scriptwriting calls this “storybeats;” you need the right tempo of fast and slow to properly pacea movie. TLJ never slows down long enough to fucking explainitself, compared to the earlier movies - and the OT didn’t domuch of that to begin with! But it did more than enough to ground theentire story in a larger framework of what the situation was, andwhy the character’s actions mattered. We don’t get that in TLJ.Even the fucking opening scroll narration is inferior in termsof information density. It’s almost like there isn’t a plotworth a damn, just whatever horseshit excuse Rian Johnson squeezesout of his anus next, and if the movie stops cramming glossy CGI andaction figure product placement down your throat for five fuckingseconds, you’ll probably catch on.

Thekorn kernel atop this turd sundae was the ending - with the entirefucking Resistance reduced to maybe a dozen or so personnel - andnone of the command staff, save Leia - on board the MillenniumFalcon, which is only a light freighter, capacity-wise. The “outerrim allies” never show, so this is the entirety of the Resistanceforces. They have no combat fleet, no combat personnel, nobases, no resources, no guns, no ammo, no snub fighters, nothing buta single light freighter and their own limp dicks.

Butthe end of the movie shows them flying around handing out secretResistance rings to force-sensitive kids, as if cereal-box decoderrings are enough to overthrow a vast evil galactic empire. Your AR-15can’t stop a government with tanks and fighter planes, but RianJohnson expects us to believe that the ability to levitate rocks andplace intergalactic Skype calls without paying ComStar can overthrowSpace Nazis.

RianJohnson couldn’t write his way out of a Naruto fan forum.

THIS MOVIE IS AMORALLY REPREHENSIBLE SHITPILE THAT NORMALIZES LIES ABOUT ABUSIVEBEHAVIOR BY MALES TOWARDS FEMALES IN ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS

That’sright. I said it.

Thismovie is actively harmful and insulting to women and girls.

Theblatant misandry is bad enough, but the messages it teaches girls areeven worse, the chief one being the normalization of Kylo Ren,the mass-murderer and fratricide “bad boy,” as someone who’s“good, deep down,” If Only The Right Woman Could Cure Him. Thisis a misguided fantasy that dates back to Wuthering Heights, and wasrecently resurrected by Twilight, the fantasy of “saving” a manwho’s violent, misogynistic and cruel. Fantasies aren’t realistic bydefinition, and they all feature in fiction because they’ve an appealto a certain audience - what makes them good or bad is the damagethey do to readers in real life who don’t discern the differencebetween fiction and reality until their misunderstanding leads theminto serious harm. The classic “beauty and the beast” theme of“taming” a  “bad boy” stands chief among the offenders inthis category - but don’t ask me, just sample what countless others have written on the topic. Rey going from angry, grief-stricken accusations ofKylo the Fratricide to longing for his lightsaber after three briefskype calls, a look at his Rock Hard Abs and touching his hand once?It’s textbook Beauty And The Beast bullshit, and apoorly-written example, at that.

Thisis in addition to Rian’s explicit view that - as elucidated byHoldo’s own actress - a venomous, sneering bully is what aStrong Female Leader looks like; reinforcedby how the plot bends over backwards to portray Holdo as a hero. Inretrospect, the liberties taken to put Leia into a coma for most ofthe movie was probably done because Carrie Fisher just couldn’t actthe role of a bullying bitch, and that’s the character Rian Johnsonwanted to showcase as a feminist icon. Again, quoting Holdo’sactress, “[Rian is] saying something that’s been atrue challenge in feminism. Are we going to lead and be who we are aswomen in our femininity? Or are we going to dress up in a boy’sclothes to do the boy’s job?” The message here isn’t that girlscan be hot-shot fighter pilots or gunslinging heroes too - it’s thatmales are toxic, testosterone-driven fools and Real Women are “womenin their femininity.” Not “youcan be anything you want to be” but “feminimity is good andmasculinity is smelly dumb mansplaining scum.” Thisis fucked in the head, andI challenge anyone- especiallythose who recommended I watch this movie - to deny the charge Ijust leveled.

Andfinally, there’s the actions of Rian Johnson himself, the misandristfuckhead who wrote this pile of shit. He was building off the workand script of JJ Abrams, including all the character development that went into it - and now we can see what he decided to do with it.Rian didn’t just fail to make a movie - he actively threw away anopportunity to write a script with realprogressivesensibilities, substituted cheap “subversions” instead, and thenjerked off on Twitter about how fucking woke and progressive he is toget all the fawning accolades anyways.

RIAN JOHNSONPISSED AWAY THE MUCH BETTER STORY SET UP BY JJ ABRAMS IN THE FORCEAWAKENS, AND STILL HAS THE FUCKING GALL TO ACT LIKE HE DIDN’T

I’vebeen told - in various articles and in person - that TLJ achievesbrilliant subversion of expectations and fights against tired oldtropes that reinforce social status norms by bucking the Chosen Onewith Significant Bloodlines thing, most notably with Rey’s parentagerevealed to be of no consequence and Kylo’s focus on “killing thepast” and rejecting moral binaries to forge his own path.

So,on that note, let’s talk about Finn.

Finnwas a brilliant character in concept, the kind I often try to write -a common man, a faceless member of the rank-and-file who finds thecourage to step out of line, think for himself, and eventuallybecomes a hero in his own right. The opening of TFA, with the bloodyhandprint on Finn’s helmet serving to identify him and give a “faceto the faceless,” was a brilliant bit of visual storytelling, andFinn himself has a difficult and dangerous journey as a character.He’s limited in his abilities - he can’t pilot a ship, for instance -and for the longest time his only desire is to run as far away fromthe First Order as he possibly can, to live his own life in peace. Bythe end of TFA, he’s grievously wounded fighting an opponent he knowsdamn well outmatches him, all to defend the life of his new - andonly - friend, Rey. Goinginto TLJ, Finn is poised both as Rey’s most probable love interestand as a walkingrefutation of the Chosen Heroes trope; having gone from randomfaceless goon to the man who was responsible for destroying the DeathST- I mean Starkiller Base. Heknew the way into and out ofsaid base because he used to be on the sanitation detail, aquirk that makes perfect sense andemphasizes how the “little people” in inglamorousjobs often know cruciallittle details like that (like the back door the smokers use.)

Andwhat did Rian Johnson do with this setup?

Finnwakes up and is immediately used for comic relief, smacking his headon the medical scanner, then staggering around in a bacta suitleaking fluid everywhere. Thenhe tries to hare off after Rey, only to get tazed for trying to steala vehicle. Then he’squickly shuffled off to the side with Rose while Rey is suddenly, andwith very poor setup and justification, set up with Kylo and hisneon-white abs as her love interest.

Is now a goodtime to remind you that Finn is black? Yes,the black man gets 1. played for comic relief, 2. don’t tazeme bro, 3. shuffled offscreen while Rey is set up with a white boy toavoid any possibility of an interracial romance. Andall that’s in additiontoFinn’s noble sacrifice being portrayed as bad and wrong, while MightyWhitey Kami-Kaze Holdo is made out as a huge hero for the exactsame act.

Comparewhat Rian Johnson did with what he couldhave done, and thentry to tell me thismovie had any redeemingthemes, arcs, or execution. I fucking dareyou.

AVALON HAS FUCKINGFALLEN

TheLast Jedi is a towering monument to the rot at the heart of ourartistic society. The Force Awakens was a shameless regurgitationdesigned by a soulless corporation to bilk our nostalgic childhoodmemories for every penny we were worth, but at least it had acompetent writer/director at the helm that had some pride in hiswork. By contrast, The Last Jedi had that same greedy, scum-suckingcorporate machine at the helm and a writer-director thatepitomizes the creature that now infests Hollywood:  an arrogant, self-congratulatory prick concerned onlywith vigorously stroking off his fellow wealthy cultural elites, sothey may take smug satisfaction in their moral superiority over theproles. Therecent spate ofself-described “male feminists” who’vebeen revealed to use their professed politics as cover to prey onwomen illustrate the forces at work here - if one utters theApproved Doctrine, everything else can be overlooked and forgiven.Portray Women as Good, Men as Bad and with a few cheap shots atCapitalism in the middle, and you can get away with not writing aplot at all, lazy and poorly-storyboarded CGI scenes that pushmerchandise, and even reducing a black man to comedic relief. This iswhat our corporate-run entertainment industry now rewards - to thetune of tens of millions of dollars - and what countlessleft-wing culture-war publications vigorously and viciously defendwith endless column inches of simpering praise and even asinineconspiracy theories about the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy “gaming”Rotten Tomatoes user review scores to cover up how much audienceshated this fucking trash.

Asa writer, I happen to believe that Art means something. It matters.It nourishes the soul and teaches us lessons about why to liveour lives, not just how. Mankind has been telling stories forthousands of years before anyone figured out how to write them down,much less make a profit off them. As a species we are wired to thinknarratively, which is why stories have power - never a righteouskingdom nor a vile dictatorship has existed that didn’t invest greateffort in fashioning myths and legends to justify and strengthen itslegitimacy with the people. Stories can help, and they can even harm.

Storiesare serious fucking business. And Rian Johnson’s betrayal anddesecration of his art and craft is emblematic of what the very, verybig, wealthy and powerful entertainment business thinks isacceptable. The business of multimillionare serial rapists that arealso major political donors, the business of complicit yes-men actorsthat routinely use their fame, wealth, and cultural influence to tipthe scales of our national political debate - that business.

Ifyou’re like me; if you dream of telling stories that matter,stories that change peoples lives and give them hope as other’sstories have done for you - prepare for dark times ahead. It’s clearnow that Avalon has fallen; that the existing establishment is toothoroughly corrupted to serve society any useful purpose. We’ll haveto use the internet, vanity presses and small websites - as long asAmazon, Google, and the other West-coast headquartered monopoliesallow us them, that is - and do the best we can. Whatever Hollywoodin particular and the entertainment industry in general is puttingout anymore, it sure as hell isn’t art, in any sense ofthe word you might imagine. The real artists will have to starve,scrape, beg, and struggle - but what they make will be worthwatching, instead of an affront to common sense and common decency.Call them Rebels, or perhaps the Resistance - just don’t callthem surprising, because I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO.

[sunlightdances]

Love Laid Down (Part Five)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Rating: M (This part) Words: 5K+ (this part) Summary: Dean and Sam are running out of time to do a summoning ritual and kill whatever’s hunting you down as you’re held captive. Dean also realizes he might be running out of time to tell you how he really feels. Author’s Note: This is it! The last part! This part was what I actually had written first, as a potential one-shot that ended up inspiring all five parts. I can’t thank you all enough for your continued love and support as I’ve worked on this. Thanks so much!

Catch up here: Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

.

When you come to, there are dark shadows moving around you, and instinctively you kick out, trying to free yourself. Your feet are tied together, and your hands are bound.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” A voice says, and you grimace, looking up at the harsh light, wiling your vision to calm down so you can see properly. You’re dizzy, and can’t piece together what happened to you. “You know,” the voice says, “we’ve never heard of the Winchesters. Hard to believe, right? A group of famous hunters show up right on our doorstep, and we never even blinked. You almost had us fooled.”

“What are you talking about?” You ask, deciding to play dumb.

“There were a group of us, in Burkitsville. Over ten years ago now. They prayed to a different sort of God than we do, sure, but the idea was the same.” The woman comes into view, her face angry. “Your husband and his good for nothing brother almost wiped that town out.”

You wrack your brains trying to remember Sam or Dean ever telling you about a case similar to this one, and you’re coming up blank. There’s so much about the brothers that you still don’t know. You only joined them a few years ago, and their backstory is so fraught with tragedy that you’ve tried not to pry.

“We’ve worked so hard to do this the right way,” the woman says, and you recognize her vaguely, having seen her with Melissa a few times. “We tried to just grow our crops and promote our tourism. But no one came, and a drought wiped out everything. What were we supposed to do? Abandon it? No.”

“So what.” You interrupt, your voice rough from lack of use. “You’re praying to some… some pagan God?”

“First of all,” she points at you. “I didn’t start this. I’m just trying to keep this place afloat. If Pastor Williams and his wife don’t want to take responsibility for this, then I will.”

“You’re sacrificing people.”

She shakes her head sadly. “Don’t think of it that way. They volunteered! It was only this month that people started to question things. Our own pastor questioned everything, just because his wife talked him out of it.” She smiles cheerily at you then, her mood changing on a dime, “But then you and your husband came to town! And you were so nice, coming to Church and being all friendly. We should have known what you were really up to.”

“Well, you didn’t.” You mutter, and then she’s right in your face, pulling your hair to yank your head backwards so you can see her eyes.

“No, we didn’t. But it doesn’t matter now. Because you and Dean are going to be the next couple to appease our Saviour.” A crazed look enters her eyes.

“He’s not dumb enough to come after me. We know it’s been taking couples. If he doesn’t come here, your plan won’t work.”

“We’ll just have to convince him to come, won’t we?” She says, and advances on you.

.

.

Dean’s entire body is tense with nervous energy. He fuckin’ hates this. This entire plan was put together on the hope that the three of you didn’t get separated, and now he has no idea what will happen if they summon this pagan God without you here. With only two people, it’s less of a chance that it’ll go off without a hitch.

Sam is just about to start the ritual when someone starts pounding on the door. Dean grabs his gun off the table and heads over, a storm brewing in his eyes, especially when he opens the door to see Pastor Williams there.

“You better have a reason for being here, or so help me--”

“You can’t do the spell.” The Pastor says. “Please.” Over his shoulder, Dean sees a short woman who must be Connie Williams, and he softens, just a fraction.

“Get inside before someone hears you.” He says, moving out of the way and checking down the street to make sure no one is following them. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Sam stands. “Why wouldn’t you want us to end this? Isn’t this thing after your wife?”

“The entire town will be decimated if we go back on our deal. If we stop praying… I don’t know what will happen.” Pastor Williams says, and Dean laughs, bitterly.

“You’re really going to put your wife’s life at risk?”

“To save the town. We’ll do what we have to do,” Connie says, finally speaking up for the first time since coming through the door.

“Look, no dice. Sorry, but this thing has my--” Dean catches himself, “-- my wife, and I’m not going to sit around waiting for it to try to kill her.”

“It won’t kill her. All you have to do is pray, and you can appease it.”

“You’ve been sacrificing couples this entire time! That’s the only reason the praying has worked! You can’t possibly be--” Dean trails off, seeing the stricken looks on the Pastor and Connie’s faces. “You didn’t know. You didn’t do it.”

Sam looks at Dean, confusion on his face. “What?”

“They didn’t know. They really thought their prayers were working.”

“We--” Pastor Williams interrupts, swallowing hard. “We knew we weren’t praying to our true Lord. But we thought-- we thought that by praying, we were doing what it wanted. We thought the disappearances were coincidence. We thought if we kept praying, we could keep the economy up and pray so no more people would go missing.”

“A coincidence? Really?” Sam mutters.

“We don’t have time for this.” Dean growls. “We’re going to summon this thing, and we’re going to kill it. No more people are going to go missing.”

“Dean, wait. If they’re not actively doing the sacrifices--” Sam says, ignoring Connie’s quick breath of air at the word, “-- someone is. All the lore I’ve found says that the prayers won’t be answered unless there is a sacrifice, and someone has to facilitate it.”

“If it’s not you two…” Dean says, looking at Connie and her husband. “Then who is it? Who else knows about this?”

“Melissa.” Pastor Williams says. “Melissa and--”

“Amanda. Her daughter.” Connie says, sounding like she could cry at any moment.

.

.

When Melissa finally comes into view, you could weep with relief. You suspected her from the beginning, but she doesn’t look like someone ready to make a sacrifice. She looks scared.

“Amanda--” She starts, “Maybe we should re-think this. What if he doesn’t--”

“He’s going to come,” Amanda says firmly. “They’re attached at the hip. Besides, he’s a hunter. He’s not going to waste an opportunity to make a valiant rescue.” She laughs.

“This is too much. These are strangers--”

“Aren’t you tired of losing people, Mom?” Amanda asks, and you jolt at the word. “Everyone that’s gone before her… they’ve been people we know. Friends. We don’t have to do that anymore! We found out it doesn’t care who the couples are, just as long as someone is sacrificed when we pray.”

“Pastor Williams--”

“Pastor Williams started this! It’s his fault that we’re stuck at the mercy of this--” Amanda says loudly, before she stops, trying to calm herself down. “It wants Connie and Pastor Williams, and they’re not willing. They don’t have to be. We can do this. We have to do this.”

“You know,” you interrupt loudly, “Trying to tell yourself that killing strangers will make you feel better about this whole thing won’t work.”

“Stop talking.”

“You’ll keep trying to tell yourself that because you don’t know me, it feels different, but it doesn’t. You’ll still have nightmares.” As you’re talking, you slowly start to twist your way out of the ropes. It burns like a son of a bitch, but you can’t just sit here while they bicker over how fast they want to kill you.

You hope you’re right - you don’t need Dean to play the White Knight right now. You need him to summon this thing and kill it, and then come and break you out of here before these crazy people try to sacrifice you to a god that doesn’t exist anymore.

.

.

The summoning went wrong. Dean doesn't know how, or why, but as far as he’s concerned, they’re all lucky that they got out of there in one piece. He’s so angry at himself because now this thing is out there, and if crazy Amanda has already started the sacrificing ritual, it’s only a matter of time before it gets to you.

He and Sam are speeding the Impala to the church, his knuckles so tight on the steering wheel they’re white. “I knew I should have gone after her the minute I saw her go missing.” Dean growls.

“You had the right idea. We didn’t know the spell would go wrong.” Sam says, trying to be reassuring.

“If we’re too late--”

“We’re not.” Sam says, firm. “We’re going to get to her in time. We always do.”

When they get to the church, Dean swears when he sees one of the doors half off the hinges. “It’s already here.” He says, and Sam doesn’t say anything this time.

.

Amanda’s crazed expression brightens when the rumble of the Impala can be heard over the noise of the lights flickering. “He came to save you after all!”

“Yeah, well. Too bad for you, I guess.” You said. “You’re not worried about all this?” You ask, gesturing towards the flickering lights. “Seems like the guest of honor is here.”

“I’m doing this for him.” She says, eyes narrowing. “Let’s not keep him waiting.” She advances on you, and for a half second, fear courses through your veins. You struggle against the bonds still on your ankles, and the door bursts open just as Amanda is about to take her knife to you, making her miss your chest. She still gets you, the knife sinking into your shoulder, and you let out a strangled scream as Dean and Sam run in, guns drawn.

“Put the knife down, bitch.” Dean’s voice makes a tear partly of pain and partly of relief slip out of your eye, and while Dean has his gun trained on Amanda, Sam rushes over to you, cutting through the ropes keeping you bound quickly.

“You’re going to be okay.” He says softly, “let’s get you out of here.”

“It’s a trap. Sam, it’s--” You say loudly, panicking when you see Melissa coming out from a shadowy corner behind Dean. “Duck!” You yell, and Dean does, just in time.

“Melissa!” You shout, “It doesn’t have to be like this.” You tell her, trying to be placating. “You said it yourself. This was never supposed to go this far.”

The lights flicker again, and Melissa meets your eyes with her own tear-filled ones. “I’m sorry. But he’s here, and he’ll be so angry. We can’t--”

“Too late,” Dean growls. “He’s already angry. Considering I tried to kill him fifteen minutes ago. So here’s how this goes. You let my friend out of here and we’ll try to get you out too.” He faces Amanda. “Even though you don’t deserve it.”

The steps to the basement creak ominously, and out of habit, Sam shoves you behind him, mindful of your shoulder. Dean lunges for his duffle and grabs the holy oil, pouring it in a generous circle around the five of you.

“You really think that’s going to work?” Sam asks, and Dean glares at him.

“We’re running out of options. The spell didn’t work, and last time I checked, we don’t have a pagan god-killing knife handy.”

“Just light it!” You hiss, “Or we’re all dead anyway!”

Dean lights the ring, and tosses an angel blade to you and Sam. “Closest thing we’ve got.” He mutters, getting inside the circle next to you. “Hang in there, sweetheart.” He says, eyeing your wound. You’re applying pressure, but the pain is almost unbearable.

“Wait.” Sam says, suddenly. “Dean, the Vanir in Indiana that we killed before. We had to find that tree, where it got its power from. You remember?”

“We lit it up.” Dean agrees. He turns to Melissa and Amanda, who look genuinely terrified. “What is it? What’s keeping this thing ticking?”

“I--” Melissa stutters, “I don’t know, we don’t know all the details--”

“Think!” Sam yells, “There has to be something. Something old, something that’s protected in this town.”

“The fountain.” Amanda says. “In town square. There’s a tree-- it’s planted in the middle and the fountain was built around it. It’s been there forever.”

“How are we going to get out?”

“A distraction.” Dean says, a grin on his face. “Gods love me.” He winks at you, and you shake your head.

“It’s a suicide mission, Dean.”

“It’ll get you out.” He says quietly, eyes locked on yours. Something is charged in the air between you, and he looks away, swallowing hard. “Let’s do this.”

Dean runs out of the room, up the stairs, and you hear something let out a ear-splitting screech. You cover your ears, and barely register Sam tugging on your arm, pulling you up the stairs behind him.

“Get in the Impala. I’ll take care of this. Dean will kill me if I let you fight with your arm like that.”

“I can handle myself!”

Sam groans, “I know you can, but--” A loud crash from the front doors of the church makes you stop your argument, and you turn quickly to see Dean running as fast as he can.

“Hurry the hell up!” He shouts, and Sam takes off, already dousing the tree with gasoline by the time Dean catches up. Dean’s got his lighter out, but before he can do anything, it’s knocked from his hands by an otherworldly force, causing you to swear as you watch from the curb.

“Goddammit.” You mutter, rifling through the trunk of the Impala quickly until you find some matches. Looking up, you see Sam and Dean in a literal wrestling match with this thing, and you run full speed towards the tree while they’re all distracted, ignoring the searing pain in your shoulder.

You light the match as you scramble over the fountain, uncaring about the hems of your jeans and boots getting wet, and you fling the lit match towards the tree. It takes a minute to catch, but when it does, you breath a sigh of relief when you hear another loud shriek, seeing it literally go up in flames before it disintegrates.

Dean and Sam look up at you as you all try to catch your breath, and you glare. “That’s why you don’t try to sideline me.” You say.

“Kid, come down from there before you--”

“I don’t feel good.” You mumble, the pain in your arm finally more than you can take. You see Dean and Sam both lunge towards you, but then everything goes black.

.

.

You wake up in the bedroom you’ve been staying in at the house, confused. Your arm hurts, and your head hurts, and you can’t remember the last couple of hours during the hunt.

“You’re awake.” Dean says from the chair next to the bed, and you look at him, taking in his two-day stubble and dark undereye circles. “You’ve been out for awhile.”

“What happened?”

“What happened is you ganked the monster, sweetheart. Kicked it in the ass, like you always do.” He smiles sheepishly. “Sam told me he tried to tell you to wait in the car.”

“Yeah, well. I passed out, so he wasn’t wrong.”

“Still. You saved our sorry asses.”

“How-- how’d you work out where I was?”

“I knew you were in the Church. I just missed you when I went to check on you during the service. We came back here figuring if we did the summoning and killed it, we’d stop it before they could hurt you.” His eyes linger on the dressing over the stab wound on your shoulder, and his face darkens. He clears his throat. “That part didn’t work out so well.”

“It’s not your fault.” You say, your hand landing on his on top of the blankets. A clink noise draws your attention to the fact that both of you still have your fake wedding rings on. The sight of them makes your heart rate speed up.

He tells you everything -- how Pastor Williams and Connie came to the house, and tried to stop Sam and Dean from doing the summoning, to how the summoning spell went wrong, and they had to hightail it back to town to get to you in time.

You frown. “I heard Pastor Williams with Amanda before they-- well, I assume it was them. Before someone hit me in the head and I blacked out. He was in on it, Dean. I heard her telling him about it.”

Dean’s face darkens even more. “He came here asking for our help. Tried to convince us not to do it.”

“Amanda kept saying that the Pastor and Connie weren’t willing anymore. Did they explain any of that to you?”

“Not really. They seemed to not know the extent of the ritual. I think they just thought that people were being taken to participate.”

“But Connie… her entire house was protected, like she knew it would kill her if it found her.”

“I don’t…. I don’t know the whole of it. I’m not worried about them anymore.” Dean says, reaching for your shoulder gently. “We killed the thing. It’s gone. Now we just have to get the hell out of here and get you healed up.”

You lay back on the mountain of pillows behind you, still feeling unsatisfied. You have so many unanswered questions, but you think Sam and Dean were right the entire time. These people were just doing whatever they could to keep their town afloat, and somewhere along the way, they stopped caring who they hurt by doing so.

“So this whole fake marriage thing wasn’t an entire waste of time, then.” You say, joking, but stop smiling when you see the look on Dean’s face. He seems… hurt.

“Not a total waste, no.” He agrees, quietly. “I’m gonna get more painkillers. I’ll be right back.”

He leaves before you can say anything else, or figure out why you want him to stay so badly.

.

.

Dean’s halfway to his bedroom to go through his bag and scrounge for some painkillers when he stops in his tracks. He’s tired of the act. He remembers the look on your face when they finally got to you, the relief that was gone in a split second as you were stabbed right in front of him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that.

He turns around, heading back to your bedroom, steps determined, even though he feels shaky. This could make or break one of the most important things in his life… but he’s tired of feeling lost all the time. He’s tired of feeling like he has nothing and no one left. Cas is back, sure, but the pain of losing Cas, and his mother… it’s too much. He can’t let more time go by without you knowing how he feels and risk losing you, too.

You look up, startled, when he comes back in, but he doesn’t give you any time to say anything. He’s still worried he might talk himself out of this.

“Dean?” You ask, sounding like you know something’s up, and he thinks it’s just another thing to add to the list of why you’re it for him. You know him, like almost nobody else does, and he’s suddenly angry at himself for waiting for so long, for not listening to himself months ago when he first started to feel like maybe you were more to him than a friend.

“Look, all this -- almost losing you, I…” Dean takes a shaky breath. “I can’t pretend anymore. I don’t want to pretend anymore.” His stomach swoops and pulse starts pounding as he takes a half step closer to you, trying to get the words out as he continues talking, his voice hoarse. “I can’t go back to the bunker and wake up every morning and pretend that I don’t want you.”

Your mouth opens like you want to say something, and then closes again. He almost laughs, because he’s not really sure where to go from here, either. “You… kid, you’ve been with me through all the shit we’ve had to deal with over the last five years. I’ve--” his voice wavers, “I’ve lost everything. You’ve been there the entire time, and you didn’t run from me, not even when I was lost in booze, and…” he trails off. “I’m crazy about you, kid.” He says, smiling sadly. “I’m just tired of you not knowing that.”

You laugh, the sound making his insides twist, and he watches as your face transforms into a smile unlike anything he’s ever seen from you before. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this when I’m laid up with an injury.”

He grins. “Why, you gonna jump me?”

“Maybe.” You say, throwing his entire world into a tailspin. It’s one thing to know that you have feelings for him, but to admit that you’ve been lusting after him like he has for you… well, that’s another thing entirely. “Come here.” You say, your words quiet, but the order behind them clear.

Dean comes closer, sitting on the edge of your bed until he can reach out and touch you gently, tucking your hair behind your ears. He leans closer, hand sliding up until it’s cradling your jaw, his mind going blank with how close you are. “Kid--” He starts to say something, to reassure you somehow, but you stop him.

“Shh.” You say, before using your free hand to grab the hem of his shirt, pulling him down to meet you, your mouths fusing together like this is the only thing either one of you are meant to be doing for the rest of time.

Dean’s entire body goes taut with lust and love as he pours everything he’s been feeling for months into his kiss -- his arms shake with the emotion of it as he tries to hold himself up and keep his weight off your injured shoulder. You lost so much blood earlier, it’s hard to believe you’re able to kiss him like you are.

Your mouth meets his over and over again, opening under his until he slides his tongue inside, causing both of you to groan into each other’s mouths. He puts his left knee on the bed for leverage, causing you to arch up to meet him, the sight of you underneath him almost too much for him to handle. “Hold on, hold on…” he murmurs against your lips, trying to catch his breath. “We have to slow down.”

You frown up at him, the wrinkle between your eyebrows so endearing that Dean can’t help but place another sweet kiss on your temple. “Do we, though?” You ask, mischief shining in your bright eyes, and Dean groans.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not my intention, but I’m just saying… I’ve never known you to want to slow down.”

Dean runs his thumb along your full bottom lip, eyes zeroing in on the way your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, too. “Maybe slow is all I want right now.” He says, his voice a low rumble.

“Is that right?” You ask, voice coy. Dean wonders idly if he’ll ever be able to look at you again without imagining you like this - warm and flushed underneath him.

“Mmm.” He says, nose dragging up the side of your jaw until he can nudge your hair out of the way, pressing kisses to your ear. “Think I wanna take my time with you.” You shiver, a full-body shudder that has him grinning as he captures your lips again. “You like the idea of that, huh?”

“Want you any way I can get you, Dean.” You admit, blush forming on your cheeks.

Dean shakes his head in wonder. “You’re perfect.” He whispers, “Should have done this months ago. Should have taken you to bed as soon as I admitted to myself that it wasn’t just your brains I liked.”

“Oh yeah? What else do you like?”

Dean chuckles, hands slowly undoing the buttons of your flannel shirt. “You want a list?” He hums absently. “Well, I like the way you don’t take any shit. Not from me, not from Sam, not from anyone. I like the way you take care of me, even when I don’t know I need it yet.” He finishes undoing your buttons, slowly sliding your shirt off your shoulders, being careful of your bandages. “I like the noise you make when I touch you right here.” His fingers drift over your collarbone, feather-light, and you let out a moan that he swears he’ll be hearing in his dreams for years.

He stops talking for awhile, content to kiss you and touch you and let you do the same to him. Both of your hands are wandering until the kisses ratchet up in intensity, leading to your legs parting to make room for him as he settles between your thighs, your hips bucking into his when he hits a particularly sensitive area.

At some point the two of you roll over so you’re on top, and he stops for a breathless moment to stare up at you, and take it all in.

.

.

Dean is almost frozen underneath you, and the way he keeps looking at you is sending fire through your veins every time you catch his eyes. He looks at you like he never wants this moment to end, like he’d be content with letting the foreplay go on forever as long as it meant you’d be here with him.

It’s almost too much, but it’s perfect. It’s Dean. You’ve never seen him as vulnerable as he was when he came to you earlier to confess how he felt. His admission of having lost everyone was too much for you, and you hope he never has to feel like that ever again. Not while you’re around.

You take his clothes off slowly, admiring every single shift of his muscles and the way his slightly tanned skin looks in the evening light through the single window in the room. You laugh lightly when your breath tickles his stomach, causing his muscles to jump, and your heart races as the predatory look in his eyes when he sees you laughing.

“Do something, sweetheart.” He says, not quite begging, but the words hit you heavy regardless. Your entire body tightens, listening to him, and you don’t say anything as you scramble off the bed to rifle through your bag to find some condoms. You come back to the bed as fast as you can, quickly rolling it on him before you can feel nervous. “Hey,” he says gently, hand on your jaw, “It’s just us here, okay? Nothin’ to worry about.”

You nod, and kiss him quickly before lowering yourself on top of him, the drag of him inside you enough to make you see stars as your head tilts backwards. Dean lets out this half-groan, half-moan, and you immediately want to hear the noise again a hundred more times.

“Move, baby. Please, move.” He says, and you listen to him this time, quickly finding a rhythm that has the both of you panting in a few minutes. “You’re so tight. So, so tight.” He says, almost to himself, and you groan his name, hands finding purchase on his shoulders as you pick up your pace.

“Dean…” You say, warning him, knowing it’s not going to take long before you’re spent. You’ve wanted this for way too long.

“Me too,” he groans, “Let me feel you. I want it, sweetheart. Come on.” He whispers, encouraging words lighting you up from the inside out until you’re left feeling nothing but euphoria from the tips of your fingers all the way down to your toes.

Dean keeps you upright, despite him struggling to catch his own breath, and slowly you both come down from your high. Eventually, you pull off him, laying down next to him, happy when he immediately pulls you close to his side, his arm going around your uninjured shoulder.

His left hand finds yours, holding up your fingers in the dimming light. “You should keep this.” He says, thumb rubbing over the ring still on your finger. Your pulse spikes, and he’s quick to elaborate, “Just… you don’t have to wear it. But keep it, okay? It’s… it’s been in the family for a long time. It’s good luck.”

“I can’t--”

“I want you to have it.” He says, and there’s something there again, that vulnerability that you know no one but his brother has ever seen. You could weep with how special you feel that he’s picking you to be the one he shares it with.

“Okay.” You whisper. “What are you going to do with yours?”

You feel him smile against your hairline. “I don’t know. I used to wear it. After a while I didn’t want to anymore. Felt like… I don’t know. Felt like all the extra weight I carried around, I didn’t need this thing too.”

“Still… seems handy.” You say, tilting your head up so you can see his face. “At the very least, you could open up a couple beers with that thing.”

Dean tilts his head back as he laughs, tugging you closer. “A girl after my own heart, truly.” He says, leaning down to kiss you again. “Things are going to be tough, you know.” He says, after, somberly. “Things are going to come after you once they get wind of us.”

You roll your eyes. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can. I’m just saying… you’re sure you want to?”

You flip over onto your stomach so he can see your face. “I’m in it for the long haul, Dean. Try to get rid of me. I dare you.”

He smiles at you, green eyes blazing. “I think I’ll keep you around, kid.”

“Good.” You say, linking your hands together again.

“Good.” He echoes, before kissing you, igniting the fire between the two of you once more.

.

.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who’s stuck with this! I truly had the the best time writing this and hold this story really close to my heart. Please check out my masterlist to see everything else I’ve written - and leave me a note if you’d like a prompt filled or have any questions! Thanks again!

Tags: @pickupthatamulet, @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels, @martraidor, @castianityislife02, @blue-eyed-devil, @whatareyousearchingfordean, @pureawesomeness001, @letsgetyourdeanon, @littlemexicanscorpion, @angelicc-bliss, @carryonmywaywardcaptain, @mecca814, @shipinthedesert, @ashrey95, @deanssweetheart23, @nerdwholikesword, @wise-words-of-a-dumb-brunette, @graceis-lost-at-last, @kmt03010, @jnhforlife, @ultrafandomcat, @emmazach, @ginasellsbooks, @blackcherrywhiskey, @sylverminx, @faithfullpanicmoon, @nrx7, @cassburger215, @kbl1313, @abmariexo, @sneaky-midnight-adventures, @dramaqueenrolf

[joannalannister]

The Dead Ladies Club

“Ladies die in childbed. No one sings songs about them.”

The Dead Ladies Club is a term I invented** circa 2012 to describe the pantheon of undeveloped female characters in ASOIAF from the generation or so before the story began. 

It is a term that carries with it inherent criticisms of ASOIAF, which this post will address, in an essay in nine parts. The first, second, and third parts of this essay define the term in detail. Subsequent sections examine how these women were written and why this aspect of ASOIAF merits criticism, exploring the pervasiveness of the dead mothers trope in fiction, the excessive use of sexual violence in writing these women, and the differences in GRRM’s portrayals of male sacrifice versus female sacrifice in the narrative. 

To conclude, I assert that the manner in which these women were written undermines GRRM’s thesis, and ASOIAF -- a series I consider to be one of the greatest works of modern fantasy -- is poorer because of it. 

*~*~*~*~

PART I: WHAT IS THE DEAD LADIES CLUB?

Below is a list of women I personally include in the Dead Ladies Club. This list is flexible, but this is generally who people are talking about when they’re talking about the DLC:

Lyanna Stark

Elia Martell

Ashara Dayne

Rhaella Targaryen

Joanna Lannister

Cassana Estermont

Tysha

Lyarra Stark

the Unnamed Princess of Dorne (mother to Doran, Elia, and Oberyn)

Brienne’s Unnamed Mother

Minisa Whent-Tully

Bethany Ryswell-Bolton

EDIT - The Miller’s Wife - GRRM never named her, but she was raped by Roose Bolton and she gave birth to Ramsay

I might be forgetting someone

Most of the DLC are mothers, dead before the series began. I deliberately use the word “pantheon” when describing the DLC because, like the gods of ancient mythology, these women typically loom large over the lives of our current POVs, and it is their deification that is largely the problem. The women of the Dead Ladies Club tend to be either heavily romanticized or heavily villainized by the text, either up on a pedestal or down on their knees, to paraphrase Margaret Attwood. The DLC are written by GRRM as little more than male fantasies and tired tropes, defined almost exclusively by their beauty and desirability (or lack thereof). They have no voices of their own. Too often they are nameless. They are frequently the victims of sexual violence. They are presented with few or no choices in their stories, something I consider to be a particularly egregious oversight when GRRM says it is our choices which define us. 

The space in the narrative given over to their humanity and their interiority (their inner lives, their thoughts and feelings, their existence as individuals) is minimal or nonexistent, which is quite a shame in a series that is meant to celebrate our common humanity. How can I have faith in the thesis of ASOIAF, that people’s “lives have meaning, not their deaths,” when GRRM created a coterie of women whose main if not sole purpose was to die? 

I restrict the Dead Ladies Club to women one or two generations back because the Lady in question must have some immediate connection to a POV character or a second-tier character. These women tend to be of immediate importance to a POV character (mothers, grandmothers, etc), or at most they’re one character removed from a POV character in the main story (AGOT - ADWD+). 

Example #1: Dany (POV) --> Rhaella Targaryen

Example #2: Davos (POV) --> Stannis --> Cassana Estermont

*~*~*~*~

PART II: "NOW SAY HER NAME.”

Lyanna Stark, “beautiful, willful, and dead before her time.” We know little about Lyanna other than how much men desired her. A Helen of Troy type figure, an entire continent of men fought and died because “Rhaegar loved his Lady Lyanna”. He loved her enough to lock her in a tower, where she gave birth and died. But who was she? How did she feel about any of these events? What did she want? What were her hopes, her dreams? On these, GRRM remains silent. 

Elia Martell, “kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit.” Presented in the narrative as a dead mother, a dead sister, a deficient wife who could bare no more children, she is defined solely by her relationships with various men, with no story of her own outside of her rape and murder. 

Ashara Dayne, the maiden in the tower, the mother of a stillborn daughter, the beautiful suicide, we get no details of her personality, only that she was desired by Barristan the Bold and either (or perhaps both) Brandon or Ned Stark. 

Rhaella Targaryen, a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms for more than 20 years. We know that Aerys abused and raped her to conceive Daenerys. We know that she suffered many miscarriages. But what do we know about her? What did she think of Aerys’s desire to make the Dornish deserts bloom? What did she spend 20 years doing when she wasn’t being abused? How did she feel when Aerys moved the court to Casterly Rock for almost a year? We don’t have answers to any of these questions. Yandel wrote a whole history book for ASOIAF giving us lots and lots of information on the personalities and quirks and fears and desires of men like Aerys and Tywin and Rhaegar, so I know who these men are in a way that I don’t know the women in canon. I don’t think it’s reasonable that GRRM left Rhaella’s humanity virtually blank when he had all of TWOIAF to elaborate on pre-series characters, and he could have easily made a little sidebar on Queen Rhaella. We have a lot of dairies and letters and stuff about the thoughts and feelings of real medieval queens, so why didn’t Yandel (and GRRM) give us a little more about the last Targaryen queen in the Seven Kingdoms? Why didn’t we even get a picture of Rhaella in TWOIAF? 

Joanna Lannister, desired by both a King and a King’s Hand and made to suffer for it, she died giving birth to Tyrion. We know there was “love between” Tywin and Joanna, but details about her are few and far between. With many of these women, the scant lines in the text about them often leave the reader asking, “well, what does that mean exactly?” What does it mean exactly that Lyanna was willful? What does it mean exactly that Rhaella was mindful of her duty? Joanna is no exception, with GRRM’s teasing yet frustratingly vague remark that Joanna “ruled” Tywin at home. Joanna is merely the roughest sketch in the text, seen through a glass darkly. 

Cassana Estermont. Honestly I tried to recall a quote about Cassana and I realized that there wasn’t one. She is the drowned lover, the dead wife, the dead mother, and we know nothing else. 

Tysha, a teenage girl who was saved from rapers, only to be gang-raped on Tywin Lannister’s orders. Her whereabouts become something of a talisman for Tyrion in ADWD, as if finding her will free him from his dead father’s long, black shadow, but aside from the sexual violence she suffered, we know nothing else about this lowborn girl except that she loved a boy deemed by Westerosi society to be unloveable. 

For Lyarra, Minisa, Bethany, and the rest, we know little more than their names, their pregnancies, and their deaths, and for some we don’t even have names. 

I often include Lynesse Hightower and Alannys Greyjoy as honorary members, even though they’re obviously not dead. 

I said above that the DLC are either up on a pedestal or down on their knees. Lynesse Hightower is both, introduced to us by Jorah as a love story out of the songs, and villainized as the woman who left Jorah to be a concubine in Lys. In Jorah’s words, he hates Lynesse, almost as much as he loves her. Lynesse’s story is defined by a lot of tired tropes; she is the “Stunningly Beautiful” “Uptown Girl” / “Rich Bitch” “Distracted by the Luxury” until she realizes Jorah is “Unable to support a wife”. (All of these are explained on tv tropes if you would like to read more.) Lynesse is basically an embodiment of the gold digger trope without any depth, without any subversion, without really delving into Lynesse as a person. Even though she’s still alive, even though lots of people still alive know her and would be able to tell us about her as a person, they don’t. 

Alannys Greyjoy I personally include in the Dead Ladies Club because her character boils down to a “Mother’s Madness” with little else to her, even tho, again, she’s not dead. 

When I include Lynesse and Alannys, every region in GRRM’s Seven Kingdoms has at least one of the DLC. That was something that stood out to me when I was first reading - how widespread GRRM’s dead mothers and cast off women are. It’s not just one mother, it’s not just one House, it’s everywhere in GRRM’s writing.

And when I say “everywhere in GRRM’s writing,” I mean everywhere. Mothers killed off-screen (typically in childbirth) before the story begins is a trope GRRM uses throughout his career, in Fevre Dream and Dreamsongs and Armageddon Rag and in his tv scripts. It’s unimaginative and lazy, to say the least. 

*~*~*~*~

PART III: WHO ARE THEY NOT? 

Long dead, historical women like Visenya Targaryen are not included in the Dead Ladies Club. Why, you ask? 

If you go up to the average American on the street, they’ll probably be able to tell you something about their mother, or their grandmother, or their aunt, or some other woman in their lives who is important to them, and you can get an idea about who these women were/are as people. But the average American probably won’t be able to tell you a whole lot about Martha Washington, who lived centuries ago. (If you’re not American, substitute “Martha Washington” with the name of the mother of an important political figure who lived 300 years ago. I’m American, so this is the example I’m using. Also, I can already hear the history nerds piping up - sit down, you’re distinctly above average.)  

In this same fashion, the average Westerosi should (misogyny aside) usually be able to tell you something about the important women in their lives. In real life history, kings and lords and other noblemen shared or preserved information about their wives or mothers or sisters or w/e, in spite of the extremely misogynistic medieval societies they lived in. 

So this isn’t “OMG a woman died, be outraged!!1!” kind of thing. This isn’t that. 

I generally limit the DLC to women who have died relatively recently in Westerosi history and who are denied their humanity in a way that their male contemporaries are not. 

*~*~*~*~

PART IV: WHY DOES IT MATTER?

The Dead Ladies Club are the women of the previous one or two generations that we should know more about, but we don’t. We know little more about them than that they had children and they died. I don’t know these women, except through transformative fandom. I know a lot about the pre-series male characters in the text, but canon gives me almost nothing about these women. 

To copy from another post of mine on this issue, it’s like the Dead Ladies exist in GRRM’s narrative solely to be abused, raped, give birth, and die, later to have their immutable likenesses cast in stone and put up on pedestals to be idealized. The women of the Dead Ladies Club aren’t afforded the same characterization and growth as pre-series male characters. 

Think about Jaime, who, while not a pre-series character, is a great example of how GRRM can use characterization to play with his readers. We start off seeing Jaime as an asshole who pushes kids out of windows, and don’t get me wrong, he’s still an asshole who pushes kids out of windows, but he’s also so much more than that. Our perception as readers shifts and we understand that Jaime is so complex and multi-layered and grey. 

With dead pre-series male characters, GRRM still manages to do interesting things with their stories, and to convey their desires, and to play with reader perceptions. Rhaegar is a prime example. Readers go from Robert’s version of the story that Rhaegar was a sadistic supervillain, to the idea that whatever happened between Rhaegar and Lyanna wasn’t as simple as Robert believed, and some fans even progress further to this idea that Rhaegar was highly motivated by prophecy. 

But we don’t get that kind of character development with the Dead Ladies. For example, Elia exists in the narrative to be raped and to die, and to motivate Doran’s desires for justice and revenge, a symbol of the Dornish cause, a reminder by the narrative that it is the innocents who suffer most in the game of thrones. But we don’t know who she is as a person. We don’t know what she wanted in life, how she felt, what she dreamed of. 

We don’t get characterization of the DLC, we don’t get shifts in perception, we barely get anything at all when it comes to these women. GRRM does not write pre-series female characters the same way he writes pre-series male characters. These women are not given space in the narrative the same way their male contemporaries are. 

Consider the Unnamed Princess of Dorne, mother to Doran, Elia, and Oberyn. She was the only female ruler of a kingdom while the Robert’s Rebellion generation was coming up, and she is also the only leader of a Great House during that time period that we don’t have a name for. 

The North? Ruled by Rickard Stark. The Riverlands? Ruled by Hoster Tully. The Iron Islands? Ruled by Quellon Greyjoy. The Vale? Ruled by Jon Arryn. The Westerlands? Ruled by Tywin Lannister. The Stormlands? Steffon, and then Robert Baratheon. The Reach? Mace Tyrell. But Dorne? Just some woman with no name, oops, who the hell cares, who even cares, why bother with a name, who needs one, it’s not like names matter in ASOIAF, amirite? //sarcasm//

We didn’t even get her name in TWOIAF, even though the Unnamed Princess was mentioned there. And this lack of a name is so very limiting - it is so hard to discuss a ruler’s policy and evaluate her decisions when the ruler doesn’t even have a name. 

To speak more on the namelessness of women... Tysha didn’t get a name until ACOK. Although they were named in the appendices in book 1, neither Joanna nor Rhaella were named within the story until ASOS. Ned Stark’s mother wasn’t named until the family tree in the appendix of TWOIAF. And when will the Unnamed Princess of Dorne get a name? When? 

As I think about this, I cannot help but think of this quote: “She hated the namelessness of women in stories, as if they lived and died so that men could have metaphysical insights.” Too often these women exist to further the male characters, in a way that doesn’t apply to men like Rhaegar or Aerys. 

I don’t think that GRRM is leaving out or delaying these names on purpose. I don’t think GRRM is doing any of this deliberately. The Dead Ladies Club, imo, is the result of indifference, not malevolence. 

But these kinds of oversights like the Princess of Dorne not having a name are, in my opinion, indicative of a much larger trend -- GRRM refuses these dead women space in the narrative while affording significant space to the dead/pre-series male characters. This issue, imo, is relevant to feminist spatial theory, or the ways in which women inhabit or occupy space (or are prevented from doing so). Some feminist scholars argue that even conceptual “places” or “spaces” (like a narrative or a story) have an influence on people’s political power, culture, and social experience. Such a discussion is probably beyond the scope of this post, but basically it’s argued that women/girls are socialized to take up less space than men in their surroundings. So when GRRM refuses narrative space to pre-series women in a way that he does not do to pre-series men, I feel like he is playing into misogynistic tropes and tendencies rather than subverting them.  

*~*~*~*~

PART V: THE DEATH OF THE MOTHER

Given that many of the DLC (although not all) were mothers, and that many died in childbirth, I want to examine this phenomenon in more detail, and discuss what it means for the Dead Ladies Club. 

Popular culture has a tendency to prioritize fatherhood by marginalizing motherhood. (Look at Disney’s long history of dead or absent mothers, storytelling which is merely a continuation a much older fairytale tradition of the “symbolic annihilation” of the mother figure.) Audiences are socialized to view mothers as “expendable,” while fathers are “irreplaceable”:

This is achieved by not only removing the mother from the narrative and undermining her motherwork, but also by obsessively showing her death, again and again. […] The death of the mother is instead invoked repeatedly as a romantic necessity […] there appears to be a reflex in mainstream popular visual culture to kill off the mother. [x]

For me, the existence of the Dead Ladies Club is perpetuating the tendency to devalue motherhood, and unlike so much else about ASOIAF, it’s not original, it’s not subversive, and it’s not great writing.  

Consider Lyarra Stark. In GRRM’s own words, when asked who Ned Stark’s mother was and how she died, he tells us laconically, “Lady Stark. She died.” We know nothing of Lyarra Stark, other than that she married her cousin Rickard, gave birth to four children, and died during or after Benjen’s birth. It’s another example of GRRM’s casual indifference toward and disregard for these women, and it’s very disappointing coming from an author who is otherwise so amazing. If GRRM can imagine a world as rich and varied as Westeros, why is it so often the case that when it comes to the female relatives of his characters, all GRRM can imagine is that they suffer and die? 

Now, you might be saying, “dying in childbirth is just something that happens to women, so what’s the big deal?” Sure, women died in childbirth in the Middle Ages at an alarming rate. Let’s assume that Westerosi medicine closely approximates medieval medicine - even if we make that assumption, the rate at which these women are dying in childbirth in Westeros is inordinately high compared to the real Middle Ages, statistically speaking. But here’s the kicker: Westerosi medicine is not medieval. Westerosi medicine is better than medieval medicine. To paraphrase my friend @alamutjones, Westeros has better than medieval medicine, but worse than medieval outcomes when it comes to women. GRRM is putting his finger down on the scales here. And it’s lazy. 

Childbirth, by definition, is a very gendered death. And it’s how GRRM defines these women - they gave birth, and they died, and nothing else about them matters to him. (“Lady Stark. She died.”) Sure, there’s some bits of minutia we can gather about these women if we squint. Lyanna was said to be willful, and she had some sort of relationship with Rhaegar Targaryen that the jury is still out on, but her consent was dubious at best. Joanna was happily married, and she was desired by Aerys Targaryen, and she may or may not have been raped. Rhaella was definitely raped to conceive Daenerys, who she died giving birth to. 

Why are these women treated in such a gendered manner? Why did so many mothers die in childbirth in ASOIAF? Fathers don’t tend to die gendered deaths in Westeros, so why isn’t the cause of death more varied for women? 

And why are so many women in ASOIAF defined by their absence, as black holes, as negative space in the narrative? 

The same cannot be said of so many fathers in ASOIAF. Consider Cersei, Jaime, and Tyrion, but whose father is a godlike-figure in their lives, both before and after his death. Even dead, Tywin still rules his children’s lives. 

It’s the relationship between child and father (Randyll Tarly, Selwyn Tarth, Rickard Stark, Hoster Tully, etc) that GRRM gives so much weight to relative to the mother’s relationship, with notable exceptions found in Catelyn Stark and Cersei Lannister. (Though with Cersei, I think it could be argued that GRRM isn’t subverting anything -- he’s playing into the dark side of motherhood, and the idea that mothers damage their children with their presence -- which is basically the flip side of the dead mother trope -- but this post is already a ridiculous length and I’m not gonna get into this here.) 

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PART VI: THE DLC AND SEXUAL VIOLENCE

Despite his claims to historical verisimilitude, GRRM made Westeros more misogynistic than the real Middle Ages. Considering that the details of their sexual violence is the primary information we have about the DLC, why is so much sexual violence necessary?

I discuss this issue in depth in my tag for #rape culture in Westeros, but I think it deserves to be touched on here, at least briefly. 

Girls like Tysha are defined by the sexual violence they experienced. We know about Tysha’s gang rape in book 1, but we don’t even learn her name until book 2.  So many of the DLC are victims of sexual violence, with little or no attention given to how this violence affected them personally. More attention is given to how the sexual violence affected the men in their lives. With each new sexual harassment Joanna suffered because of Aerys, we know per TWOIAF that Tywin cracked a little more, but how did Joanna feel? We know that Rhaella had been abused to the point that it appeared that a beast had savaged her, and we know that Jaime felt extremely conflicted about this because of his Kingsguard oaths, but how did Rhaella feel, when her abuser was her brother-husband? We know more about the abuse these women suffered than we do about the women themselves. The narrative objectifies rather than humanizes the DLC. 

Why did GRRM’s messianic characters have to be conceived through rape? The mother figure being raped and sacrificed for the messiah/hero is an old and tired fantasy trope, and GRRM does it not once, but two (or possibly even three) times. Really, GRRM? Really? GRRM doesn’t need to rely on raped dead mothers as part of his store-bought tragic backstory. GRRM can do better than that, and he should do better. (Further discussion in my tag for #gender in ASOIAF.) 

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PART VII: MALE SACRIFICE, FEMALE SACRIFICE, AND CHOICE

Now, you might be asking, “It’s normal for male characters to sacrifice themselves, so why can’t women sacrifice themselves for the messiah? Isn’t female sacrifice subversive?” 

Male sacrifice and female sacrifice are often not the same in popular culture. To boil it down - men sacrifice, while women are sacrificed. 

Women dying in childbirth to give birth to the messiah isn’t the same thing as male characters making some grand last stand with guns blazing to give the Messianic Hero the chance to Do The Thing. The male characters who get to go out guns blazing choose that fate; it’s the end result of their characterization to do so. Think of Syrio Forel. He chooses to sacrifice himself to save one of our protagonists. 

But women like Lyanna and Rhaella and Joanna they didn’t get a choice, were afforded no grand moment of existential victory that was the culmination of their characters; they just died. They bled out, they got sick, they were murdered -- they-just-died. There was no grand choice to sacrifice themselves in favor of saving the world, there was no option to refuse the sacrifice, there wasn’t any choice at all. 

And that’s key. That’s what lies at the heart of all of GRRM’s stories: choice. As I said here,

“Choice […]. That’s the difference between good and evil, you said. Now it looks like I’m the one got to make a choice” (Fevre Dream). In GRRM’s own words, “That’s something that’s very much in my books: I believe in great characters. We’re all capable of doing great things, and of doing bad things. We have the angels and the demons inside of us, and our lives are a succession of choices.” It’s the the choices that hurt, the choices where good and evil hang in the balance – these are the choices in which “the human heart [is] in conflict with itself,” which GRRM considers to be “the only thing worth writing about”. 

Men like Aerys and Rhaegar and Tywin make choices in ASOIAF; women like Rhaella don’t have any choices at all in the narrative. 

Does GRRM not find the stories of the Dead Ladies Club worth writing about? Was there no moment in GRRM’s mind when Rhaella or Elia or Ashara felt conflicted in their hearts, no moment they felt their loyalties divided? How did Lynesse feel choosing concubinage? What of Tysha, who loved a Lannister boy, but was gang-raped at the hands of House Lannister? How did she feel? 

It would be very different if we were told about the choices that Lyanna and Rhaella and Elia made. (Fandom often speculates about whether, for example, Lyanna chose to go with Rhaegar, but the text remains silent on this issue as of ADWD. GRRM remains silent on these women’s choices.)  

It would be different if GRRM explored their hearts in conflict, but we’re not told anything about that. It would be subversive if these women actively chose to sacrifice themselves, but they didn’t. 

Dany is probably being set up as a woman who actively chooses to sacrifice herself to save the world, and I think that’s subversive, a valiant and commendable effort on GRRM’s part to tackle this dichotomy between male sacrifice and female sacrifice. But I don’t think it makes up for all of these dead women sacrificed in childbirth with no choice. 

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PART VIII: CONCLUSIONS

I hope this post serves as a working definition of the Dead Ladies Club, a term which, at least for me, carries a lot of criticism of the way GRRM handles these female characters. The term encompasses the voicelessness of these women, the excessive and highly gendered abuse they suffered, and their lack of characterization and agency. 

GRRM calls his characters his children. I feel like these dead women -- the mothers, the wives, the sisters -- I feel like these women were GRRM’s stillborn children, with nothing left of them but a name on a birth certificate, and a lot of lost potential, and a hole where the heart once was in someone else’s story. From my earliest days on tumblr, I wanted to give voice to these voiceless women. Too often they were forgotten, and I didn’t want them to be. 

Because if they were forgotten -- if all they were meant to do was die -- how could I believe in ASOIAF? 

How can I believe that “men’s lives have meaning, not their deaths” if GRRM created this group of women merely to be sacrificed? Sacrificed for prophecy, or for someone else’s pain, or simply for the tragedy of it all?

How can I believe in all the things ASOIAF stands for? I know that GRRM does a great job with Sansa and Arya and Dany and all the other female POVs, and I admire him for it. 

But when ASOIAF asks, “what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?" What is one life worth, when measured against so much? And Davos answers, softly, “Everything” ... When ASOIAF says that ... when ASOIAF says that one life is worth everything, how can people tell me that these women don’t matter? 

How can I believe in ASOIAF as a celebration of humanity, when GRRM dehumanizes and objectifies these women? 

The treatment of these women undermines ASOIAF’s central thesis, and it didn’t need to be like this. GRRM is better than this. He can do better. 

I want to be wrong about all this. I want GRRM to tell us in TWOW all about Lyanna’s choices, and I want to learn the name of the Unnamed Princess, and I want to know that three women weren’t raped to fulfill GRRM’s prophecy. I want GRRM to breathe life into them, because I consider him to be the best fantasy writer alive. 

But I don’t know that he will do that. The best I can say is, I want to believe.

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“Ladies die in childbed. No one sings songs about them.” 

But I sing of them. I do. Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story...

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PART IX: FOOTNOTES AND MISCELLANEOUS

**I am 90% certain that I am the person who invented the term “Dead Ladies Club”, but I am not 100% certain. It sounds like a name I would make up, but a lot of my friends who I would talk to about this on their blogs in 2011 and 2012 have long since deleted, so I can’t find the first time I used the term, and I can’t remember anymore. Some things that should not have been forgotten were lost, history became legend, legend became myth, y'all know the drill.

To give you a little more about the origins of this term, I created my sideblog @pre-gameofthrones because I wanted a place for the history of ASOIAF, but mostly I wanted a place where these women could be brought to life. During my early days in fandom, so many people around here were writing great fanfiction featuring these women, fleshing out these women’s thoughts and feelings, bringing them to life and giving them the humanity that GRRM denied them. I wasn’t very interested in transformative works before ASOIAF, but suddenly I needed a place to preserve all of these fanfics about these women. Perhaps it sounds silly, but I didn’t want these women to suffer a second “death” and to be forgotten a second time with people deleting their blogs and posts getting lost in tumblr’s terrible organization system. 

Over the years, so many other people have talked about and celebrated the Dead Ladies Club: @poorshadowspaintedqueens, @cosmonauthill, @lyannas, @rhaellas, @ayllriadayne, @poorquentyn, @goodqueenaly, @arielno, @gulbaharsultan, @racefortheironthrone and so many others, but these were the people I remembered off the top of my head, and I wanted to list them here because they all have such great things to say about this, so check them out, go through their archives, ask them stuff, because they’re wonderful!