#bullshit ass deaths of women on supernatural

[flugame-mp3]

what do you fucking mean that's how charlie dies. THAT'S HOW CHARLIE DIES??? i mean i know the show has a penchant for killing off every character who's not a winchester brother or an angel of thursday but good god. what the fuck. charlie was such a good and enjoyable recurring character, and she had such a fandom impact that i've seen, and she's only around for THREE SEASONS?? (sidebar: it's amazing she has the presence she does for only being around for a couple episodes in the long run!) but: was this necessary? and she just dies offscreen after her skills are utilized to progress the plot of decoding the book of the damned?? oh my god. what in the actual fuck. i'm finding myself getting genuinely very upset at her death. she did not fucking deserve that. and i can absolutely see why the fan response to her death is what it is now. completely fucking unjustified and throwaway and useless.

[written-beyond-the-grave]

Mikaelsons Black History Month

First off, I’m starting by saying that even though it is no longer Black history month it will always be melanin everyday and black people every day. And everything else under the sun, and if you don’t like it then the exit is to your left. Everything you own in the box to the left

Being part of the Mikaelsons is very fickle business and be some bs. Like really, you’re here with supernatural beings who are over 1000 years old. Who have traveled the world, gained endless knowledge, seen a lot of bloodshed, but you know what they haven’t seen? Their token human (black ofc) being ignant for black history month, I mean who even fully celebrates? How does one even celebrate?

Granted, they’re not racist. But with the writing Julie Pleck did she was playing honestly. That was the worst writing I've ever seen since who knows when. Maybe the nine lives of Chloe king or something? But in my originals universe they were probably racist in the beginning to an extent then grew out of it.

Anyways, they never met someone who celebrated until they met you!

Now repeat after me: I’m black y’all, and I’m black y’all. And I’m black and black and black y’all! FYM

Now…. picture this: A moderately quiet day in the Mikaelson household. Kol is minding his business for once, Rebekah is trying to find the perfect pics for her next instagram post, Elijah is enjoying a good read, and Klaus is organizing his art materials. But then here comes you, the human, opening the door and walking right in like you pay bills (none of them do but you get the picture) in the midst of the most deadly people. Walking in and greeting everyone, walking in with the most hotep, Dr. Umar bullshit getup they ever seen. Coming to America headass.

They recognize your footsteps from a mile away, so when you walk into the kitchen and no one really looks up at first it’ll be a sight to see a whole ass pelted lion on your back. The kente cloth hat (no idea the actual name for it, sorry babes), a saber tooth necklace (for my mans T’Challa), and the red stiletto nails with the afro out here banging.

SHEEEEEEEEESH

Once Elijah is done with his page he looks up to greet you, but then stops… Bitch, fuck is you wearing? This was worlds away from the sweats, and skinny jeans you wore on the daily.

“Greetings Y/N you look…. Fashionable.” Mans didn’t know what to say. Did he miss something about your Africna roots? Was there a holiday he hadn’t heard of, doubt it, but what else was there?

“Thank you Elijah.” You fluff out your lion pelt for added effect, if there was ever going to be one time you outdo the Mikaelsons’ especially Elijah in being dramatic with a coat or cloak of somesort, it would be now.

At this point the Kol and Rebekah have already looked up and were confused. Why are you dressed like that?

Kol is the first one to speak up “Darling, Rebekah likes a fashion show more than anyone, but why do you have a lion… on your shoulder.”

Lifting up your large ass shades you supplied an answer: “Black History Month”

They all looked at each other… they didn’t get it. Like they know what it is, but never actually understood how to celebrate and all that nor did they ever actually give it mind. When you saw that they weren’t making a connection, you started phase 1.

“Alexa, you know what to do.”

And there goes their manor playing: NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA NIGGA I’M ONE HUNDRED PERCENT NIGGA

LMFAOOOOO you got the white people shook. Klaus just dropped one of his expensive ass bottles of art sealants and is vamp speeding to the kitchen to figure out what the hell is going on. Elijah having a mid century crisis on how tf they even found you and deemed you worthy of being in their presence so casually. Kol is having fun in the back, still laughing at your get up. And Rebekah wishes she went to the mall instead, she wanted a girl bestie and got you instead rip

“WHAT IN BLAZES- Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DO- WHAT ARE YOU WEARING! ALEXA STOP THE MUSIC-” And the big bad wolf has arrived. You put your finger to Klaus’ lips which stuns him bc… you’re still HOOOMAN like damn, death wish much? And you look this man, straight in his mit and say “Looks at, look at me” and pause for dramatic affect, “I am the captain now”

Room silent as hell till Kol starts cackling

You’ve made Dr. Umar proud, the ancestors are shining on you once again

With that you lead into a whole speech about the black struggle and black history month, bottom line: REPARATIONS. Because being the only nigga in the Mikaelsons (we don’t claim Marcel) is exhausting, white people shit everyday that you complain about in their faces

TBH at this point they’re indulging you in this escapade.

First victim is Elijah, you ask for his wallet. He gives you a look, I mean he does technically give you what you want and whatever (when y’all dating, refer back to my dating Elijah post), so he ask you why. Reparations sis why, but then you stop yourself. This man gives you his wallet every other day, half the time you not even asking. What could you rob this man of…. Ah. You ask him for the deed of one of his estates in Prague, why? Because you bitches can’t even spell Prague. And under section S line 45 subsection Y it does state that estates are eligible for reparations. Fuck 40 acres and a mule, you got 300 acres, some stallions in the back, a quite possibly haunted mansion, and a heavy dicked (yeah I said it, a sis been trying to reality shift) original who will turn you out by the end of the day and the end of the month…. Wait till women's history month boo

We know his pockets figgity fat, and it would be figgity wack to not get some

Ngl you take Kol with you so he can buy you food. Granted, he knows what you’re doing, but if he’s going to spend money on anything it will be thawed and it will be music. However, one thing leads to another and you’re both at Wal-Mart waiting to find a parking spot. You stole one off a white minivan trying to move in. Not thinking anything of it because who in this small ass Mystic Falls ass, clown ass town really about it? Apparently Karen.

But you know who else what about it? Kol (tbh mans had nothing but time, and he claims you so why tf not.) he out here NY stomping on her and coming at her for badly glued extensions. Cheap ass bitch, ain’t even blend in correctly.

After that Kol and you left with some groceries, a new story to tell, and a chopped cheese.

With Klaus, he frfr wasn’t finna do shit. Being ordered my a human? Lmfao, go find another simp sis. But… once you suggest that his art skills may not be up to par on what you have in mind as a new family room piece for your house he’s all ears. He knows what you’re doing, but… he still wants to prove you wrong. But anyways, you give him a theme… reverse racism. IK y’all, it’s not a thing, but mans has ideas. And he outdoes himself. That and the recreation of the moorish chief bc that man...mmmmm that man was giving.

Ok so Google wanna hoe me, but there was a painting of a black man in a kkk cloak and behind him were white people being hung from a tree. Say what you want, but that photo was fire. If any of you seen it please share it below.

Anyways

Rebekah tbh wants no part in this, but I feel like she’d gave when you ask her to give you all the finest dresses bc it’s an excuse to exhaust Klaus’ money.

Through the month you give the Mikaelsons a run for their money, and maybe sanity. Klaus is in the back trying to research who tf Dr. Umar is and why is he your inspiration

They had to pull you back when the sheriff asked you for your ID. You ask why you needed white man paperwork!

You are pleasing the spirits, what bonnie could never do lmfaooooo. The powers of you enemies aren’t prospering this month nor next month.

You’re not poor this month, anything you poor of is pouring a little more (bars nigga)

LMFAOOOO imaging asking the fam to go to paris, like, they not invited it’s a self trip funded my the Mikaelson Y/N Trust Fund of Public Decency ™

Klaus would be the first one to speak because this man is TIRED, “Love, why do you need a trip to paris? What’s in Paris?”

Knowing better, you look to Kol to answer the question, “I don’t know, Kol, who’s in Paris?” Niggas b. Niggas in paris…. Lemme chill

LMFAOOO enjoy

[demonic-ninja-cat]

To expand on what I said in the last post, where I mentioned how I hate the Supernatural Fandom with a passion, here are some of the main reasons why:

Their belief that you can't criticize any character in the show who is any sort of minority or who has any sort of trauma, and if you do then you're a prejudiced asshole who only hates them because they're a minority/have trauma and who hates minorities/people with trauma

All of the "If you hate Mary Winchester/Claire Novak/Charlie Bradbury/Any Other Female Hunter Character at all, then you just hate women/are sexist/hate strong female characters" posts

The abuse apologism(especially relating to Dean and his relationships with everyone, but especially especially Sam, Cas, and Jack)

The constant glorification, romanticization, justification, woobification, and excusing of Dean and everything that Dean says or does

The constant glorification, romanticization, justification, woobification, normalization, and excusing of Hunters as a whole and Hunting as a concept/institution

The constant glorification of Hunter Characters like Claire, Charlie, Jody, Mary, and Eileen, pretty much just for being reoccurring characters who are minorities, and acting like they're never done anything wrong ever, and saying that anyone who criticizes them for anything is just sexist/homophobic/ableist/misogynistic/racist/etc.

The demonization and dehumanization of supernaturals as a whole and the treatment of supernatural characters in fanfics, especially in regards to making them all be either Species-Traitor Hunters who mercilessly kill their own kind and are praised for it or Irredeemably Evil Villains who are nearly always killed off

The way all of the rps/fanfics/fanart/posts/etc. force SamnDean, Cas, Jack, and a bunch of characters who either barely know them or outright hate them into being their "Adorable Perfect Found Family Who All Live Together In The Bunker"

How they act like all of the unhealthy, toxic, and even outright abusive relationships in the show are "adorable" and "perfect" and "healthy" and whatever, just because the characters in the relationship in question are Main Characters/Popular Characters/Hunter Characters

The way that so many of the destiel shippers treat Cas like just an accessory for their ship and Dean's Walking Angelic S*x Toy/Love-Slave and get upset and act like he “betrays” Dean if he so much as cares about anyone besides Dean(and maybe Jack)

The way that the destihellers harass and bully people who don’t like Dean and/or who don’t ship Destiel, and call anyone who doesn’t ship their toxic ship “homophobic”, even when the person being accused of being homophobic ships other non-straight ships

All of the dad!Dean crap, and how they make Dean be Claire/Jack/whoever’s father, and how they make Claire, Jack, and other Kid/Young Adult Characters into Destiel Children

The way people get so up in arms and defensive if you criticize their favorite character for legit reasons(mostly Dean), and then will sometimes turn around and make up/exaggerate shit in order to to hate on/bash other people’s favorite characters(mostly Sam and/or Cas)

How some of the most popular ships in the fandom, the ones with the most posts and works about them, are among the most toxic, abusive, and disgusting ships in the fandom(eg. Destiel, Wincest, Samifer, etc.)

How the Wincestie and Bibro types like to bash my favorite characters(eg. Cas and Jack) and treat them like shit, and act like only SamnDean matter

How some SamnDean/Bibro/Wincest fans act like Sam and Dean are perfect, and are all annoyingly snooty with their superiority complexes about how “they understand the show and it’s all about brotherly love” and stuff like that, and bash and insult Cas in literally all of their posts and etc.  They will do things like, call Cas insulting and degrading names, and bash him for stuff that is either made up, exaggerated, or that is literally the same as or similar-to-but-not-as-bad-as things that SamnDean have done.

How they make long-ass metas and essays about destiel and homophobia in spn and shit, but refuse to acknowledge almost any of the racism, sexism, ableism, etc. in the show

How said metas and essays about "homophobia in spn" are literally almost entirely just about “Destiel not being canon” and “Charlie's death”, and occasionally “Cas' death”(but only in the Bury Your Gays and "Cas died and didn't get to be with his twu wuv after confessing his feelings!  Waaaahhh! ThEy SiLeNcEd Us!" way, of course, and no mention of how he died spewing bullshit about how "good" and "loving" his abuser was), and completely ignore any of the many other homophobic things in SPN that don't revolve around the Hunter Fan-Faves.

The rampant and disgusting hypocrisy, both with Hunters vs Supernaturals and with Dean vs Anyone Else.  

An example regarding Hunters, is how they will say that killing any human, even one who is an abuser or a murderer, is “bad” and “evil” and “villainous”, but killing any supernatural, even an innocent one, is “ok” and “good” and “heroic”.  

An example regarding Dean, is how they will say that anything bad Dean did while he had the MOC “wasn’t really Dean” and “you can’t judge him for that”, but then will go on to judge, condemn, and bash Sam and Cas for things they did while they were possessed(Both), soulless(Sam), or had hundreds of monster and leviathan souls inside them(Cas)! 

and likely more things that I'm forgetting

[adhdeancas]

Dean Winchester (and the script leaks last night) possessed me to write this.

Dean happens upon Chuck's latest book: Carry On. Except it ends differently than it really went, and the ending? It's really fucking bad.

tw: suicide mention, transphobia (quickly shut the fuck down) 

Dean doesn’t make a habit of going to bookstores. Not because he hates books, contrary to what Sam might think; he just prefers to buy used books. There’s something comforting about a book that has already been worn and read over and over, that already shows how much the previous owner loved it. Plus, y’know, big corporations are evil and all that. And Dean only allows himself to overlook that when his stomach or his wallet wins over his hatred of the shitty mass-produced products. 

This time it was Jack who won; he’s obsessed with this new fantasy series and the new book just came out, so there’s no way he can hunt it down on Ebay. He makes his way to the fantasy and sci-fi section, eyes roaming over the displays of new releases, and his eye catches on something that turns his blood cold. 

“Supernatural: Carry On, The Final Book of the Winchesters’ Epic Journey” takes up a whole table, the generic and overly serious cover jeering out at him. 

He storms over to the display, anger covering up for the way his body feels light as a feather and like lead all at once, and picks up a book. “Why is Sam always fucking shirtless?” he mutters, the only thought that allows itself from the mess inside his head to his mouth. 

“Book sales.” A voice behind him says. He turns to see a teenager with their arms crossed over their work polo, pierced lip fixed into a customer-unfriendly frown.

“People want to see that?”

They snort, a small grin turning up the corner of their lips. It reminds Dean of Cas. “No. But that’s what advertisers think all ‘women’ want,” They use air quotes. 

He raises an eyebrow and asks. “Women?”

They shrug and uncross their arms, leaning back against the display table behind them. Their nametag says Jadyn. “Supernatural’s biggest block of readers is queer. I’d go out on a limb and say a lot of those the marketers think of as ‘women’ aren’t, or if they are, they aren’t itching to see Sam’s six pack.” Jadyn smirks. 

Dean takes a second to digest that, then grins down at the book, thinking past Sam’s apparently badly-received nudity now. “So how’d they like it?” he asks, waving the book a bit and looking up at Jadyn. Apparently they know a lot about the fans of the books, and for once, he’s proud of the way the story ended. 

Jadyn’s face sets into all hard lines. “Most people fucking hated it.” they say bluntly, then, probably remembering that he’s a customer, correct. “Sorry. I mean, it got some good reviews, mostly from people who like Wincest, but beyond that, it had some problematic plot points.”

Dean winces at the reminder of the ship between him and his brother, then scrunches his whole face together in confusion. “Wait, what? Why?” Why would Wincest fans like it? What was problematic about their end?

Jadyn shifts from foot to foot. “I don’t wanna spoil anything for you-”

“I don’t care about spoilers, just give me the short version.” Dean says quickly. A quiet panic is rising in him, and suddenly he has a horrible feeling that he’s not holding the truth in his hands anymore. 

“Uh, okay… Well, the most obvious thing is the bury-your-gays thing, then there’s the fact that it completely contradicted the rest of the lore. And it was ableist, misogynistic, and messed up, like, every character’s arc.” they take a breath, clearly worked up by it. “Even if they changed any of the details too, it was all built on Dean’s death, and that’s just bullshit. Sorry.” they apologize again, apparently mistaking Dean’s stricken expression to be in reaction to their rant and swearing. 

“No, nah, you’re… you’re okay. Uh, thanks.” he waves a hand and wanders away from them, only remembering Jack’s book when he’s almost to the register. He manages to make his way back and find the damn thing, but he’s still in a fog when he gets to the register. 

“Did anyone help you in the store today?”

“Huh?” he looks up and meets the middle-aged cashier’s gaze for the first time. Brent, from the nametag, looks at him impatiently. “Oh, yeah, uh… Jadyn. Jadyn helped me.” Brent scoffs and starts typing with a shake of the head. “Uh, is there a problem?” Dean asks, a little annoyed at this cashier’s unnecessary attitude. He usually doesn’t care if an employee’s rude, because they have to deal with assholes all the time and honestly Dean isn’t much better, but this one gives him a bad feeling. 

“No, no, sorry. It’s just - “Jadyn’s” got this idea that he’s a girl. Makes everybody call him that name now too. Just-” Brent shakes his head. “I mean, you get it. Their generation, everybody wants to be special.”

Dean glares. “No, I don’t get it, Brent.” He says through gritted teeth. “Seems to me like Jadyn probably deals with enough assholes like you that her asking for a little basic decency is the exact opposite of special. Sounds pretty normal, actually.” He can see the fear creep into Brent’s eyes, and he knows the cashier is reacting to the murderous look in his eyes more than his actual words. 

Brent hands Dean his bag of books with a quiet, “Here you go.”

Dean snatches it away. “Oh, Brent?” he checks over his shoulder to make sure they’re alone and then leans across the counter into Brent’s space. “You should find a new job, one where you don’t have to interact with other people. At least until you learn how to stop being a piece of shit.” He starts to ease away but thinks better about it. “And if you think that’s a suggestion, it’s not. My husband likes this book coming out next month that I’ll need to buy, and if I see you here when I come, well… it would be really embarrassing for you to tell all your little friends that you got your ass beat by a ‘special’ guy, huh?” He pats Brent on the cheek condescendingly and leaves with a huff. 

Damn transphobes. 

He only remembers the book once he’s back in Baby, and he takes the time to drive out of town before he pulls over to read it. It’s an old abandoned church, the cross long since fallen from the roof and the doors hanging off their hinges. He sits on the steps just because being in Baby seems claustrophobic for once in his life, and going back to the bunker to look at this is just… not happening.

Dean only skims the beginning to see that it starts the same. The ground erupting with bodies, hell spitting out its most-conveniently placed nasties, Rowena sacrificing herself, Cas leaving. His throat closes up at that, at Chuck’s description of Cas’s heartbroken expression as he climbs the stairs of the bunker. He clears his throat and skips to the end, right past Cas’s death that he doesn’t have the time to think about right now, past them defeating Chuck and then stops. He goes back a few pages, trying to find the disconnect. 

The story’s different.

After Jack takes on God’s power, in the book, he’s totally fine. Not almost vibrating out of his skin or anything, not crying like the three year old he is because he’s scared. Not like it really happened. He just smiles and leaves him and Sam, and they let him go. 

Dean scoffs, skimming over the story as it just gets more ridiculous. 

In the book, he doesn’t even try to save Cas. They barely even mention him. And they never mention Eileen, either. In fact, Dean notes disbelievingly, practically the only characters in the last few chapters are him and Sam. They’re hunting again.

“What, is Chuck trying to keep the series going?” he whispers to himself, anger flaring through him. They let Chuck live, and he decided to write obnoxious fanfiction about them? He’s gonna kill that shameless little fucker. For real, this time. He deserves it.

In the book, Sam and Dean torture some vampire mime, and they enjoy it. Dean cringes; this is really what Chuck thinks of them. Then they tussle with more vamps in a barn and- 

Dean’s brain stops working. He rereads the scene again and again. 

“There’s something in my… something in my back. It feels like it’s right through me.” 

Dean Winchester dies in a dirty barn, on a piece of freaking rebar. 

More than that, Dean realizes on his fourth read-through. This Dean? He tried to drag out his speech, Dean can tell by the way he pauses for fucking drama. He would never do that. He would never talk to Sam for fifteen hellish minutes when he could be trying. Trying to live, so he can actually get his life back on track, get his family back. No, he made that speech stalling. He made that speech so Sam wouldn’t try to save him. 

“You gotta admit, I had one helluva ride.” He was strangely calm.

Chuck made him kill himself.

Dean reads the rest of the book through blurry eyes, reading an ambiguous and nothing-ending, one where he’s somehow happy to be dead and driving around in heaven alone while Sam raises a kid into hunting and cries about Dean decades after he’s died. Eileen isn’t mentioned. Cas is mentioned once, and Bizzarro-Dean doesn’t even think about seeing him, apparently. The whole book ends with a hug between him and Sam, both dead. Both alone. 

Dean rips the ending up. He tears through the stupid paper covering and keeps ripping the pages up until they’re the size of confetti. His lower lip wobbles. He throws the whole thing against the side of the building, and it tumbles through the broken doorway and drops into a pile of dust and dirt. “That isn’t the fucking ending.” he grounds out, knocking his hand against the flimsy handrail. It gives a little under his fist and he kicks at it. “That isn’t the fucking ending!”

He’s having a panic attack. Again. He tries to take deep breaths, but they’re gulping, too big, they’re making him panic more. He scrambles back to Baby and grabs his phone, presses the first number on his favorites list and waits for him to answer on speaker phone.

“Hey Dean, what’s up?” Sam sounds like he’s been laughing. There are voices in the background, and Dean tries to convince himself one of them is Eileen. 

“Hey Sammy.” he chokes out, trying to sound normal. “You busy?”

There’s a pause, and then the sounds in the background. “Nah, Rowena’s just over.” he says casually. 

“So those voices in the background were-”

“Rowena and Eileen, yeah. They’re trying to convince me we need to go to Mexico. For the beaches.” A smile in his voice. Dean lets out a sigh of relief.  What’s up, Dean? You need something?” The smile drops, and Sam’s worried. 

Sam’s okay. Sam’s okay. “No, nah. Hey, you heard from Donna lately?” Dean just needs to triple-check.

“Uh, no, not since Sunday dinner… Dean, you okay?”

“Yeah, she just- she hasn’t been answering my texts. Just wanted to make sure.” Dean lies quickly. His breathing is still uneven, but his body is settling into uneven shakes. 

Sam sounds skeptical. “Yeah, well, she did tell us it’s been pretty busy at work lately. Y’know, everybody going out for the first time with COVID, getting stupid. Plus, y’know, nowhere’s drowning in EMTs right now.”

“Right. Yeah.” Dean takes a deep breath, a distant memory of Donna talking about that coming back to him.

“Pretty sure you were setting up a D&D session with Charlie while she was talking about that,” Sam laughs. Dean knows he means it as a subtle jab, but there’s too much relief flooding through him to care. Still, a string is pulled taut in him, and Sam can’t fix that completely.

“Gotta go, Sam,” Dean hangs up before Sam can say anything else, and goes to his next contact. It rings for far too long, and Dean’s heartbeat picks back up to thundering.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean breathes out. “Cas, you know I love you, right?” He needs to test all the bounds of this, to make sure, just to make sure. Make sure Chuck isn’t still fucking with him. Because apparently, Chuck won’t let him be queer. Not in his story. Not out loud.

He can hear Cas’s eyebrow raise through the phone, and his chest is overcome with stupid fondness. “I would be a little worried if you didn’t.”

Dean grins widely. “Like, romantically. I’m in love with you. Because you’re the love of my life and I’m bisexual.” He says it all like it’s a checklist, like he expects some cosmic being to slap a hand over his mouth before he gets each next phrase out.

“Yes, Dean. We’ve been married almost two months.” Cas is smiling. It happens everytime he talks about their wedding. Dean adores it. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, now it is.” His whole body relaxes, still vibrating with leftover panic, but satisfied. “I got Jack’s book.”

“Oh, good. He’ll be so pleased.” Cas pauses. “Dean, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dean eases off the ground and sends a last look at the dilapidated church before climbing into Baby. “Just- read a bad book. I’ll tell you about it later. When I get home.”

[miraclerizuin]

tl;dr i have an unhealthy relationship with a tv show

hello, void!  I stumbled out of a weird anxiety-depression fog at the end of last week and I’ve been trying to figure out what the hell was up and I am dismayed to report that it seems to have something to do with supernatural

a 1000-word contemplation of Why Am I Like This.  with pet pictures (I am bribing you to read about my feelings)

when I tell people that I quit watching spn in 2011 bc it wasn’t bringing me joy anymore I feel like there’s some pieces of that process that get glossed over.

here is what it felt like: I’ve got this friend I’ve been watching season 6 with, we laughed and screamed over frontierland and the french mistake, and am I letting her down if I drop the show now?  I wanna know if sam is gonna be ok and will dean and cas ever reconcile, so will I regret it if I stop following the story?  I’ve already abandoned covert affairs and heroes and ncis and fringe, what is wrong with me that I can’t seem to stick it out with tv shows?

(and there’s a part of me like “it’s just a show, nobody cares, it’s just a show”)

when I was eighteen and lonely and hadn’t made any friends yet in college I rebuilt my entire personality around supernatural (castiel) and invested myself so deeply that my mental health became closely linked to how things were going with supernatural (castiel) and I did all of that in the space of six months and then

I realized that I just wanted it to be a different show.  not all the time!  there is still the meaning of family and the nature of destiny and fighting to have a choice even when all the choices seem bad, and making friends and making jokes and carving a strange but special sort of life out of a difficult world.  but never letting anything new take root in the status quo of Sad Man Time, so often insisting on a cold and uncaring view of the universe, so much white cis heteronormativity at a time in my life when I was opening my eyes to all the things that were not that.  and I was talking about it to anyone who would listen and what I got back was “why do you watch it if it makes you so angry”

(it’s just a show!!!  just stop watching it if you’re not having fun!)

I didn’t like the toxicity I often saw from the fandom, but I also got to know some cool people.  (a couple cool people? ��maybe just one person?  jeez.) and the absolute wealth of fanfic that inspired me to think about the story and characters in new ways and to write about them myself.  there is not another thing in this world that I have written more words about, for better or for worse.  there are kind people and cool people and thoughtful people using this weird-ass show to make beautiful art.  after I quit watching, I slowly drifted away from all of it.  the fun stuff and the bullshit.

(why would anyone even have noticed that you left?  you were just lurking the whole time ffs)

so now it’s several years later, several years of me inwardly flinching anytime anyone mentioned spn in my hearing, and I decided to watch the final season.  I had this ridiculous notion that it would give me closure, and maybe if they hadn’t even aired that goddamn finale I could have had peace when I was done idk. but after all this time I was still in love with the “secret good supernatural that lives in my head” and I started trying to put it down on paper and that is how I wound up picking up the show again, roughly from where I left off.

I had learned that I didn’t have to watch every episode, no matter what my perfectionism says.  but even trying to limit myself to episodes that I hoped would “spark joy,” it quickly turned into a chore.  I wanted to know what happened, I wanted to see the parts I wanted to see without slogging through the things that bored me, the endless string of deaths of supporting characters, especially women, the frequent absence of my favorite character even after he started being credited as a series regular.

(lmao if you’re just watching for destiel you’re setting yourself up for disappointment)

and I talk about it to anyone who will listen.  my family is definitely tired of it by now (again) and I gotta give a shout-out to my friend who has never seen a single episode of spn and yet has read all my fics and listens to my rants.  a hero, an icon, an inspiration, etc, they are probably reading this and they know who they are.  it would be cool to have other fans to talk to more, but I always struggle to reach out…

I’m still loving writing about it.  and there are still parts I want to watch, but I think I’m gonna have to dial it way back.  I was treating it as research for my fics and that turned it into work.  it shouldn’t be work.  I already have a full-time job which I am being paid actual money for, and making myself miserable, like, actually miserable, in pursuit of a hobby is not part of it.

(just dump him already???)

supernatural is not, in fact, actively trying to ruin my life. it is a show that ended over a year ago that has other fans who like other things about it, probably.  my relationship to it is something I have the power to control, insofar as I have control over anything in my life.

I would be a profoundly different person if I hadn’t, as a supposedly-straight college freshman, seen a certain former tumblr user who is now a NYT bestselling author posting about these 2 sad dudes and their unintended love story and been like “hmm, that’s interesting, hope it doesn’t awaken anything in me!”

(it’s just a show it’s just a show it’s just a show)

got any spn episodes from seasons 10-14 that bring joy to your heart?  in a bad place with a show/book/movie and need to vent?   wanna hear more about my own personal secret good supernatural?  my askbox is always open & I am downtownfishies on twitter and ao3 and my current project tag here on tumblr is #keep your heart young

[dafuq-i-did-not-sign-up-for-this]

The Sparrow Academy

Good day and enjoy my 2AM caffeine infueled theorizing shenanigans about the end of season 2 of The Umbrella Academy and a possible season 3 scenario. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

As I’ve announced in my last post, I’ll focus on the Sparrow Academy in this one, cause I have a lot of thoughts on those motherfuckers.

Most importantly, to quote Emo-Ben: Who the hell are these assholes?

There have been several theories going around the net. First I’ll deal with the most popular one: Reginald, upon witnessing the Umbrella Academies failure in 1963, adopted a different set of children. Ben is still part of the team, because he wasn’t with them.

Excuse my wording, but I must call bullshit.

Lets for a second assume, Reggie can’t time travel or look into the future (the possibility exists, we don’t know shit about dear old alien asshole dad). Reginald adopted them all as babies. He had no idea what they would look like as adults, nor did the crew give him their places of birth or the names of their mothers, because they do not have that information.

So if he really adopted different children, there must have been some other trigger. Something changing the timeline. Perhaps it has something to do with Harlan. Maybe he, as a possible co-founder of the Sparrow Academy, picked out the children instead of Reginald. In that case it would’ve been an incredible coincidence if he had chosen the exact same ones Reggie did in the original timeline.

Again, we don’t know much about Reginald. In the graphic novels, his monocle shows him what a person truly is, so maybe he used that to determine the childrens powers before adopting them. Speaking against that would be, that it is heavily implied in the Vanya flashbacks and his notes on her, that he first had to work out the childrens powers himself. So if he was able to see their powers as kids with the monocle, why would he have to monitor them in their sleep and why did he only notice how dangerous Vanyas powers were when they were four? Regarding that, we don’t know if the show has actually adapted the monocle thing, but in case they did, the theory could make sense.

A simpler reason for why the Sparrow Academy might consist of other characters, is cast and filming issues. Having the same set of actors act two different characters in the same scene, interacting with each other, would make the production incredibly difficult and long lasting. I’m not familiar with every little computer trick the film industries has, but I can imagine it won’t be easy, especially because the Sparrow and Umbrella Academy will probably be pitted against each other, possibly even fight more than once. They will have to interact in the same frame eventually.

Then there’s also the graphic novels. In those the Sparrow Academy has different characters, making it likely for the show to adapt it.

What bugs me about this, is Ben. What is he doing there?

If Harlan picked different children, it would be a great coincidence if he picked Ben of all people. Again, maybe Reggie checked with his monocle and didn’t recognize him. (Personally I think the monocle theory is very unlikely).

I think it’s simply writing. A plot device to bring Ben back into the show, after killing him, and having his siblings interact with this new version of him. Lets face it, the Ben we know and love is dead, this guy will be a vastly different person. Hell, we don’t even know if he’s even called Ben. Anyway, it will make for a really good fucking storyline. First killing him and perfectly resolving his character arc, then bringing him back in as an alternate universe version, completely reasonable and understandable regarding the plot, because they fucked up the timeline? Give those writers a price and some good fucking coffee, I mean it.

But if Ben isn’t just a plot device, again, why him? It could be an indicator for the original crew meeting their alternate universe selves. The Umbrella Academy could have turned into the Sparrow Academy, with a different upbringing. Maybe they’re all emotionally stable, and maybe Reginald wasn’t such an ass to them and that’s why they stayed.

We also know that Bens death was the drop that made the barrel overflow. Because he died, they disbanded. In this AU he’s alive tho, and he also seems to have grown up to be something like a leader? Academy strongest?

He could be the reason they are still wearing those stupid uniforms in their thirties.

And looking at the uniforms: in the last scene of season 2 we see five silhouettes (and some weird cube thing, don’t get me started on that). Assuming all of them wear their uniforms fitting their gender, two of the silhouettes would be female, as they look like wearing skirts. Means either the new set of characters has two active women, or Vanya is part of the Academy and she and Allison absolutely fuck shit up. This would also mean one of the boys is missing. Five possibly? Did one of them die, like Ben did? Or maybe the Sparrow Academy only consists of six members. Or maybe they didn’t show all of them. Mysterious!

Because of previous points made, I do believe we’ll get a different set of siblings as Sparrows, but I also think it would be incredibly interesting to see the what-if’s. What if Five had never left? What if Vanya had learned to control her powers? What if Ben had never died? What if Reginald hadn’t been an abusive, manipulative piece of shit?

How would the world look with seven adults running around in school uniforms, playing vigilante and “saving the world”?

Oh well, we will get the answer to that question eventually. Unless Reggie turned them all into special agents for his shady business instead of making them believe they’re superheroes (C’mon, those fellas are 30, they gotta have a mind of their own.)

So much to: “Who the hell are these assholes?”

Lets move over to: “How the hell are these assholes?”

What was different in the founding of the Sparrow Academy? It probably has to do with Harlan. He still has powers after Vanya unknowingly failed to extract them. He’s the anomaly “off-charts” that had a big part in fucking up the timeline. In that context the arguement with his toy, a sparrow, linking him to the Sparrow Academy makes sense.

By the time the kids where born, he would have been around 34 years old, as he’s eight in 1963. Old enough to have met Reginald and old enough to bargain with him on his own terms.

We still don’t know how Reggie found out about the kids. Possibly he found out about Harlan the same way and contacted him. Possibly Harlan fucked some shit up and Reggie decided it was best he befriended and kept him close. Maybe it has something to do with Vanya. Dunno.

I have no idea in which way Harlan was involved, there’s not enough evidence in the show yet, but in 2019 he would be 64 years old. If he’s still alive.

It’s possible Reginald tried to round up supernatural people to do some world saving, and that he started with Harlan. But that is for another 3AM shenanigan post: oldtimer Reggies intentions and possible past. All this theorizing would be much easier if we knew more about him.

Because to really answer the question, what went wrong in the founding of the Sparrow Academy, we first need to know more about the founding of the Umbrella Academy.

Reggie, out with dem secrets.

[thehollowprince]

But since I brought it up! I am *pissed* we never saw the Bennett family as an actual family, and even more so as a functioning coven. We could expand on the traditions and history of the Gemini + Mikaelsons, but not the Bennetts? They're basically witch nobility given all they contributed + accomplished, but we can't have Black ~servants~ esteemed. And it was a way to isolate Bonnie so she had no network to lean on so she was at the disposal of Elena and Damon

One of my true regrets when it came to this franchise was that I stuck around as long as I did, hoping that, as a set of shows meant to focus on Family, that they would expand on all the families in meaningful ways.

Boy was I sorely disappointed!

I think that's why I'm so spiteful toward it now, all these years later. We got entire sobstories regarding the Salvatore Family Drama. For being an orphan, Elena had more parents and family than you could shake a stick at. Caroline's relationship with her mom was front and center when it came to her story. Hell, even Matt, who didn't have a storyline, had a relationship with his family.

But Bonnie? Tyler?

Isn't it ironic that the only two characters of color on the main cast got shafted when it came to the issue of Family?

Let's start with Bonnie, since she was the whole basis of this ask. I mean, how many times over the course of the show was the Bennett Family mentioned? How many times did something hinge on one of Bonnie's ancestors being the one who cast a spell, or craft a curse or create some object object, all of which required a direct descendant to break and/or use? And yet, how often does Bonnie get to be the one who interacted with them? Emily interacted more with Katherine, Stefan and Damon. Ayana, who was just a recast actress (she was a math teacher in season one) only ever interacted with Esther and Rebekah. Qetsiyah had one scene with Bonnie!

The only members of this illustrious family that Bonnie really interacted with was her Grams, and most of that happened after her death. Her own parents were barely there (insert absentee black parents stereotype here). And then there was Lucy. Lucy, who was shown to be more experienced and powerful than her younger cousin, only to have her interact with Katherine for the most part before being killed off screen that we only find out about through a one liner.

For a show that constantly mentioned the Founding Families (seriously, how many Founding Day events happened on that show?), you'd think we'd get something to do with the Bennett Family, seeing as how they, along with the Maxwell Family, were the true founders of Mystic Falls. Of course, that reveal was pulled out of Plec's ass at the last moment in the show's final season, and only really focused on Matt as they turned Bonnie and Caroline into Elena.

How much more powerful would this scene have been if we'd actually explored Bonnie's family? Like you said, we spent how much time exploring the Mikaelson Family and the Gemini Coven, despite the characters connected to them just being recurring guest characters, but we never actually explore the Bennett Family outside of them being powerful witches and that's it. Those women (no men in this family?), have no other characteristics aside from being strong with magic and then dying so that their descendant can suffer as she tries to undo whatever it was that they done, and always for someone else, never herself.

Moving on to the Lockwood Family.

Yes, the Lockwoods did play a more significant role in the series, with the mayor of the town being played by two different Lockwoods over four seasons. But was there any exploration into their history as werewolves outside of interactions with Katherine? First that ancestor who bargained for the moonstone and then Sexy Uncle Mason, but never really anything with Tyler, the main Lockwood on the cast.

The only werewolf stuff that Tyler got to explore was his excruciatingly painful transformations (Trevino acted the hell out of that first transformation, fight me on that) in an old slave cellar (racist much?)

No, instead, all of the werewolf lore was given to the Werewolf Queen of the Bayou, Hayley. And in a show dedicated to the constant battles between the various supernatural factions of New Orleans, it felt more like them trying to add more than the show could handle. The thing that makes it even more infuriating is the fact that they introduce the concept of seven different werwolf bloodlines, and yet we only focus on Hayley and the Crescent Pack. Only to pull out all that crap with the Hollow and mention that, "Hey, Tyler's family had a big role to play here, but we obviously only thought of this after we killed him and his entire family off, so it'll have to go through Hayley, like all things werewolf."

So the potential was there all the time, but it was never followed up on by Plec and her cronies. Instead, we had to wait four seasons for rhem to introduce a white character that they could write for, by introducing her as a potential threat to Tyler's romance (thus letting that Kl*roline bullshit gain traction) before having her literally sell out Tyler and his family for the sake of her dead parents?

Aaaahhhh!

Thankfully, I have not watched Legacies at all, otherwise I'm sure I'd be even more frustrated with how they handled (or didn't) Rafael Waithe.

It's like you said, all of this was done deliberately by the production to make everything revolve around their central white characters by not having their characters of color have anyone to rely on outside of them. They did this with Bonnie and Tyler, as well as Marcel and Vincent. I get so mad when I think of the potential these shows could have had that was all thrown away for the sake of some two-dimensional romances.

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part twelve Word count: ±2750 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part twelve summary: The only way to find out the truth about Laura, is to start digging even deeper. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​. Thanks, girls! Gif credit: @demondetoxmanual​.

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     “Dead as a dodo,” the oldest of the Winchester brothers states over the phone, as he exits Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, Zoë by his side.      Before they drove to the hospital, the hunters dropped Sam off at the Shire residence, so that he could make sure the family wouldn’t get targeted. Laura has proven to be relentless, and they didn’t want to risk the family getting killed as well.

     “Laura attacked him while other people were around?” Sam, who is on the line with his brother, is clearly surprised.      “She didn’t. She waited until he went to the supply storage, alone,” Dean tells. “Same deal; beat up, broken neck.”      Sam cuts to the chase. “We have to figure this out fast. The only other people who may know something about Laura’s location is what’s left of the Shire family.”      “You got eyes?” Dean checks, knowing Sam is staking out the residence on Lake Front Lane.      “Yeah. So far so good.”      “Make sure he keeps them in sight at all costs. Use an excuse and get into the house if he has to,” Zoë suggests, only catching half of the conversation.

     Dean glances aside at the woman next to him. She has changed into a clean shirt, one that doesn’t have her own blood on it. Back at the Hampton Inn, she taped her right side, relieving some of the pressure from her aching ribs. After a quick touch up of her hair and make-up, one could barely tell she just got attacked by an angry spirit. Her walk is slightly stiff, but the bruising she suffered is sufficiently masked, her brown curls falling over the gash on her hairline, which she closed with butterfly stitches.

     With a groan she lowers herself in the front seat of the Impala, muttering ‘fuck’ under her breath when fractures send a sharp pain through her body.      Dean notices when he gets into the car as well, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead he puts his phone on speaker, now that the Impala provides them the safety to talk freely. “Zo says that when you lose sight of them, you better get inside. Tell them you’re insurance or somethin’.”

     “Will do. Did you guys manage to get Laura’s medical records?”      “We did. Let’s see what we have here.” The older Winchester pulls a folder from the inside of his leather coat. He opens it, about to leaf through the documents, when Zoë snatches it from his hands. “Hey!”      “Like you could make sense of what’s in here,” she scolds.

   She wets her finger and flips the page. A huff escapes her throat as she reads the file, shaking her head, disapproving. “1999, age four; skull fracture of the parietal, supposedly fell off her bike. 2001, age six; fracture of the left ulna. 2003, age eight, multiple fractures, right radius, she needed surgery for that. Same year, broken carpal bones, right wrist, this time it was the trampoline's fault. It goes on.”      “Fucking bastard…” Dean scoffs.      “And no one picked up on this?” Sam wonders.      “Perks of the dad being Chief of surgery.” Zoë holds an X-ray against the light. “Good news for us is that we should be able to determine now if it’s Laura in that grave or not. Especially her right arm, which was screwed back together.”

     “Only one way to find out. Looks like your gonna pay Linwood Cemetery another visit,” Dean says, turning the key in the ignition. The V8 engine comes to life with a roar, a song by The Kinks called ‘You Really Got Me’ playing on the local radio station.

     “You know you and Zo have to stick together, right?” Sam brings to mind.      “Say what?” Dean replies, puzzled, before he pulls away from the curb.      “He’s right.” Zoë backs up the younger Winchester’s statement, glancing at the driver next to her. “Laura kills everyone who stops her, but only if they are alone. We already know she’s after me, and now you shot her through the head, so I’m guessing you moved up her murder list.”      “Well that’s a comforting thought.” Dean breathes out, once realization sets in. “What about you, Sam?”      “I don’t think she’ll come after me. I never actually had contact with her, unlike you guys,” Sam explains.      “So basically, I’m stuck with her?” Dean nods his head at the young woman next to him, even though his brother can’t see it.      “Hey, still in the car,” Zoë snarls, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She then continues to correct herself, in her usual brazenness. “Excuse my French. I’m still in the ‘67 Chevrolet Impala.”

     Dean’s jaw clenches as he fights the urge to pull the gun from the glove compartment and shoot her. He’s getting pretty tired of her smartass comments.      “He has a point, though,” Sam intervenes. “Whatever happens, you two have to stick together, or it will be the end of you. The second one of you ends up alone…”      Sam leaves the rest of the words unsaid, because no one needs to hear them to understand. If Dean and Zoë get separated, they will die, and especially the huntress is not particularly happy about that matter.

     “Great. My lucky day,” Zoë mutters sarcastically, after which she looks away and watches the houses rush by.      “Do I have to remind you that I just saved your ass?” Dean recalls.      The huntress huffs, of course he has to bring that up. “I didn't need your--”      “Oh, come on! Don't start that bullshit with me,” the oldest Winchester counters, letting out a laugh. No way in hell she’s going to win this argument. “What were you planning to do exactly after Laura pinned you to the wall and was a second from snapping your neck, huh?”

     “Could you two stop bitching at each other for one fucking second?!”      Dean looks at the phone on the dashboard. For a moment there, he forgot Sam was still a part of this conversation. The younger Winchester clearly has had enough of their bickering and fighting, because it’s not often that the respectable sibling curses. The outburst helps, because both shut up instantly.

     “Thank you,” Sam sighs and continues on his theory. “Dean, you dig up that body, I’ll keep an eye on the Shires.”      The Impala comes to a stop before a traffic light, crossing cars not allowing Dean to run the stop sign. “What about Miss Congeniality over here?”      “She can’t dig. She broke her ribs.” Sam states, matter of factly.

     Zoë, who still had her arms crossed in front of her, now turns herself to watch the hunter’s reaction. The amusement that bubbles inside of her makes it impossible to suppress the wide smirk on her lips when she notices Dean translating the true meaning of Sam’s message. For once in her life, she is not going to disagree with Sam, because this is playing itself out beautifully.      “So, I’m gonna have to dig up a coffin while she stands there being pretty?!” he almost exclaims.      “Ah-uh.”      “I have no issues with that, whatsoever.” Zoë agrees, adding fuel to the fire.      “Of course you don’t, you--” Dean shuts himself up, biting his tongue before he says something he might regret. He’s only at an arm's length away from her, plus he’s driving his precious car. The huntress might be hurt, but she can still do some serious damage.      “Alright, Sammy. You stay put, and be careful, okay?” he presses. “Who knows what that mini poltergeist has up her sleeve.”      “I’ll be safe,” his younger brother promises. “You guys too, alright? See you in a bit.”

     The sun is about to sink behind the horizon and golden hour is upon them. The heavens are colored in a dark shade of blue, gradually turning lighter in the west, where apricot and merigold fire up the sky. It’s getting chilly, autumn bringing down the temperatures at dusk. Nocturnal animals come to life, a barn owl hooting in the distance. The cemetery’s gates closed an hour ago, offering the hunters the peace and quiet needed to stay undetected.

     This time it’s not the huntress who is shuffling dirt. In fact, she’s casually sitting on the tombstone next to Laura’s, her legs crossed like the lady that she is, watching Dean do all the hard work. While filing her nails, Zoë cannot help but admire the scenery, and it’s not the pretty sunset. The Winchester in her company is working his way into the ground, scooping dirt over his shoulder with steady amounts. He shed his jacket and his grey shirt is clinging to his clammy torso, perspiration shimmering on his exposed skin. Muscles roll beneath the fabric of the thin tee and his biceps flex with every motion, a glimpse of a tattoo peeking from under the right sleeve. The huntress might want to bite his head off most of the time, but even she has to admit; Dean’s is easy on the eyes.

     “Like what you see?” Dean grins mischievously, having noticed her appreciating looks.      Zoë isn’t at all thrown off balance by his remark, however. “Really? You objectify women all the fucking time, and you’re calling me out?”      “Touché,” he chuckles, not slowing down for a second. “Just sayin’, the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.”      Zoë scoffs, finding his assumption entertaining. “Keep on dreaming, Casanova. I’m more likely to die before ending up between the sheets with you.”

     “Well…” Dean swings more ground out of the hole, groaning at the increasing ache in his left shoulder. His eyes are still mischievous, and so is the smirk on his lips. “Let’s get that mini poltergeist off your tail, and we’ll talk again.”      Zoë rolls her eyes. This arrogant prick doesn’t know when to stop, does he?      “Like I said; keep on dreaming. Now what the hell is taking you so long?” she judges. “It’s only six feet and the ground is already loose.”      “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe if you hadn't put a bullet in my shoulder two days ago, I’d dig a little faster!” Dean snaps, glaring at the person who has been giving him orders all day.      “Don’t be such a baby. It didn’t even hit the joint,” Zoë scoffs, blowing the dusty residue from her fingertips. “Now would you hurry it up? I have places to be.”

     Gritting his teeth, the hunter dumps another load of soil on the grass besides the grave. I swear to God, one of these days a spirit will be the last of her worries.      “Maybe if you had paid attention when you fucking lit the kid in the first place, you could’ve left town hours ago.”      “Maybe if your brother hadn’t distracted me, I would have. But you asshats tend to ruin other people's cases,” Zoë counters, rapidly.      “Hey, we are just trying to help! Do I have to remind you who’s doing the actual dirty work here?” Dean pauses his actions. “Why don’t you get off your throne of thorns, princess. I’m nearly there.”

     Zoë cocks back her head back; did he just call her ‘princess’? Her eyes shoot flames at the intolerable guy, her mouth opening to send back a remark, when the metal shovel collides with the wooden casket. The hollow sound catches Zoë’s attention and she gets up. “Fucking finally.”

     Dean hoists himself out of the hole, making room to lift up the lid and exposing the remains. He was going to offer the huntress a hand to get into the grave, but he can’t be bothered now; she can figure out how to lower herself if she’s being such a bitch. She doesn’t ask either, and sits down on the edge, sliding down with a grunt. The older Winchester watches her descent, the light of her flashlight shimmering on his features as she turns it on and places it on the corner of the coffin.

     “How are we supposed to tell if this is Laura or not? You already burned her bones to crisp,” Dean wonders, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.      “Because they aren’t burned to crisp. A salt and burn doesn’t actually destroy them like an oven would when cremated,” the huntress explains wisely, pulling on a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and putting them on as she crouches down.

     “So what’s the crime scene telling you, Horatio?” Dean wonders, shining his flashlight down on the skeleton.      Zoë doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she clears the burned clothing and half deteriorated skin and muscle tissue from the right arm of the girl in the coffin. She rubs her thumb over the radius bone, swiping away the ash and grime. There are no signs of a healed break, nor has the arm ever been screwed and bolted back together.      “This isn’t Laura,” she knows.      “Well, shit,” Dean responds, staggered. “If this ain’t her, then where the hell is she?”      “Good question.” Zoë rises again, going over the clues they have gathered so far. “Let’s head to the Shire house, get back to Sam. We gotta figure this out, fast.”

     The two hunters pack up, Dean hauling the dirt back into the grave while Zoë gathers his jacket and the torches. It takes him less longer than digging the hole in the first place, even though he has to bite through the pain. Not wanting to let Zoë know and give him a reason to scold him again, he keeps his mouth shut.

     Thirty minutes later, the driver of the Chevrolet settles down on the front seat, closing the door behind him. “Where to?”      Zoë has already pulled her laptop out, studying the map of Paragould on the screen. “Highway 412 up west, right on Reynolds Road, and then take left on Reynolds Park Road.”      Dean guides the Chevrolet back onto the street, focused on traffic while the passenger takes in the moving world outside the window. The sinking sun sends an orange glow through the Impala, reflecting on the polished hood of the classic car. They are losing light, they are losing time.

     When the driver glances aside briefly, he detects the pondering frown knitted between Zoë’s eyebrows.      “Do you happen to see any bright ideas in that thousand mile stare?” he wonders.      “We can’t split up, so we have to find Laura’s body and figure out how she relocates with the information we already have,” she says, thinking out loud.      Dean brainstorms. “Maybe the way she relocates is a clue on itself.”

     Zoë lets the air fall from her lips while thinking about that, trying to make sense of it all. “She can jump houses, but stays in a certain area. The principal’s home, the hospital, the Dawlson’s house, they are not far from each other, but what connects them?”      “When you saw her, she was wet through, right? That has to mean something,” the older Winchester brother contemplates.      “Yeah, but doesn’t make any sense. We know she didn’t drown,” she ponders, glancing aside at the driver as he turns on Reynolds Park Road.      “What if it has something to do with the cover up of her cause of death and not with her death itself?” Dean brings to mind.

     Suddenly, it clicks. Her eyes grow wide as she straightens herself, her eyes now locked on what’s in front of her. The Reynolds Park Lake comes into view, the last of the evening light reflecting on the surface. It seems peaceful and quiet at this hour, but it becomes very clear to her that these waters hold a dark secret.      “The lake…” she huffs. “The park lake has a water purification system. It provides water to the town.”      Dean follows her gaze. It only takes a second before the penny drops. “So that’s how she travels.”

     It all makes sense now. Why Sam’s vision showed the sprinklers when he saw Taylor Dawlson get attacked. Why the faucets in Zoë’s hotel room opened right before she manifested. She’s not six feet in the ground, she’s six feet under water.      “Little Laura took a swim,” Zoë realizes.

     Stunned that they actually managed to crack the case, she glances aside at the green-eyed hunter, who shares a knowing look with her, a small smirk playing on his lips. They finally know what happened, before and after the girl’s death. All they have to do now is find the remains so they can put the spirit to rest, and who knows, maybe Zoë will make that deadline after all.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page). 

Read chapter thirteen here

[whentheynameyoujoy]

Women in SPN—Is it Really That Bad?

TL;DR: Somewhat, yeah, it kinda is.

This is going to be a series of long ones, people.

Before I jump head first into this giant vat of weird toxic shit, let me say something:

The thing about most of the female characters is that on their own? They’re perfectly fine, ranging from serviceable to the occasional flash of thematic brilliance. Barely any of them qualify as “this is hateful on its face and incompetent regardless of context and the writers should feel bad for ever conceiving of it”, i.e. the normie benchmark for justified criticism. It’s only when you put these characters next to each other that a worrying pattern emerges;

Although discussions about sexism in the media were very much a thing in the mid-2000s, as well as shows with characters whose primary role wasn’t to serve a man’s needs, I can’t honestly claim that the flaws of SPN are out of the norm for its time; and

The first few seasons could really do with a PSA at the start of each episode, something along the lines of “A part of the reason why female characters are killed off or written out with such regularity is rabid superfans who couldn’t abide anything with tits brushing against J2, srsly, the writing team and the 2000s’ fan base were a match made in hell, except it wasn’t the writers who couldn’t do with bitching on their LiveJournals about the gall of women to exist in the show, choosing instead to harass the creators and actresses and wives and call them every sexist insult under the sun AND I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE HAS THERE EVER BEEN A CESSPIT AS DISGUSTING AND NUKEWORTHY AS THE SPN FANDO—“

Anyway.

SPN has a legacy (as a posterchild for not knowing when to bow out gracefully, but legacy nonetheless) and isn’t watched in 2005 but in the year of our Lord Today. Meaning that as time goes by, the issues surrounding the show’s production retreat into the background and only what’s on the screen remains, to be judged on its own merits.

So let’s run down a list of the more noteworthy and relevant female characters of the first arc, focusing on their characterization, role in the narrative, and end. In the conclusion to this series of posts, the sum of characters will be analyzed as a whole to see if there are any unique tendencies in the show’s handling of women as opposed to that of men. I’ll do this for the original five seasons as the recent finale went out of its way to say that nothing after season 5 was strictly speaking necessary so why bother.

(Also because I died of frustration in season 8 and vowed not to subject myself to any more of the post-apocalypse fanfic era)

Angels, while strictly speaking genderless clouds of energy, will be classified as men or women depending on the apparent gender of the vessel they spend most of the time riding. The same goes for demons where I also take into account their stated gender while they were alive. That’s because although beings like Meg, Ruby, Anna, or Lilith can’t technically be considered women in the show’s present day, their consistent preference for conventionally attractive and/or female vessels throughout the original arc makes claims of genderlessness essentially meaningless. For all intents and purposes, we’re watching girls and women on screen.

Baby—the only true NB of the first run

All right, time to jump.

Say hi to our ladies!

Mary Winchester

Killed in the very first scene to give the story a reason to exist, she remains an active presence throughout the first arc where she has a wide-reaching influence on the plot and characters, driving the conflict on several levels. Fleshed-out more and more with each appearance to be more than just “the dead mom”, she’s portrayed as protective, pro-active, capable, and assertive, mirroring the duo’s desire for normal life and their inability to have it. Her story comes full-circle in season 5 when the personal tragedy of her fate is embedded in the wider tragedy of the Winchester family curse and the overall theme of destiny.

Status: Dead as of s5

Importance: Major

On her own: Textbook example of fridging… and that tropes aren’t bad in and of themselves.

Jessica Moore

Comparatively, if anyone doubts fridging can evolve into something meaningful, Jess drives the point home by having no personality and no point but to prop up her boyfriend before she ends up pinned to the ceiling, the reveal of which is the most interesting thing about her entire existence. At best she’s a symbol of Sam’s civilian life, at worst an obstacle to be removed for the story to happen.

Status: Dead as of s5

Importance: Major in terms of manpain, non-existent otherwise

On her own: A cardboard cut-out, barely qualifies as a character

Missouri Moseley

A psychic and the primary reason why John Winchester even knows to wipe his ass. Appears once over the course of the first arc yet everyone wants her to come back years later—that’s how awesome she is. Has this fantastic trait of being compassionate and empathetic while not taking a single speck of shit from anyone, especially when it comes from the two main dumbos who might just as well have been raised in a barn. Is very particular about the pristine state of her coffee table.

Status: Alive as of s5, killed in s13 (wait, what?)

Importance: Major…ly wasted potential

On her own: As strong a character as Bobby Singer, and as worthy of being elevated to the main cast.

Lori Sorensen

The writers can’t figure out why anyone in the universe would care about Jess either so they insert an intentionally awkward romance subplot to convince people the time’s not yet ripe for Sam to stop grieving and start slaying. The result’s… erm… well, awkward. Lori’s naïve, sheltered, devout though accepting of her non-repressed friend, and sort of on a religious crossroads because of her hypocritical preacher father. I guess the virginal power of her virginal virginity does… something in the plot? Primarily a vehicle for Sam to mark the stages of his moving on.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Minor

On her own: A bit done. Like a bit lot. Like a “could be a trope namer” bit lot.

Meg

Boom, baby!

Arguably the chief antagonist of season 1 and one of the best things about it. The first one to point out the pervasive toxicity of the Winchester family business, so props for perceptiveness. Possesses the standard qualities of a lower-level henchman—manipulative, no-nonsense, and quietly sinister which, while not exactly groundbreaking, sets her apart from the other bad guys in the season as they tend to have no distinguishing characteristics at all. Plus Nicki Aycox makes the role seem more unique and “lived-in” by projecting a sense of understated amusement at the two main chucklefucks. Is one of S1’s turning points in blurring the lines between monsters and humanity. Has a face transplant twice—once to have revenge (good on her) and the other time to pursue someone else’s goals again before getting stomped into the ground like a mook.

Status: Alive as of s5 (?), killed in s8

Importance: Major

On her own: The actresses do most of the heavy lifting. Which doesn’t mean I don’t love watching the character burst onto the scene and announcing the end of the Winchester brand of bullshit.

Layla Rourke

A terminal cancer patient in a religious cult, she’s a more mature take on a Lori-type character and the themes of faith and doubt. Serves as a conduit for Dean’s budding survivor guilt, self-loathing, and sense of worthlessness. Is kind and cheerful, with strong hints that she’s relying on forced optimism to get through the days; also understanding of the circumstances of others while realistically freaked about the possibility of death. Weirdly, she enters the episode already in a state of acceptance and leaves it just as accepting when it’s confirmed that yeah, she’ll die soon. All expressions of anger at the injustice and senselessness are left to her mother which somewhat undermines the “struggling” portion of Layla’s character and renders the final scene where she makes peace with her fate a bit hollow.

Status: Implied dead

Importance: Minor in the overall narrative, major in the episode and Dean’s development

On her own: I want to like her, I really do, just… if only she were allowed to get pissed, once.

Cassie Robinson

Dean’s ex and that’s pretty much all there is to her. I struggle to pinpoint a single personality trait of hers—the 2000s idea of a “strong woman” and “not like other girls”, perhaps? Undermined as a love interest because TPTB don’t show the happy or any parts of her relationship with Dean so really, why should anyone care if two sniping assholes with little to no chemistry get back together? Memorable for being in a horribly scored softcore scene which YouTube tries to convince me lasts for shy over a minute, not the week I remember it to. Involved in the show’s first and last attempt at incorporating the issue of anti-black racism.

Status: Alive as of s5

Importance: Minor

On her own: She’s in the racist truck episode. ‘Nuff said.

Sarah Blake

A sophisticated people-person conversationalist with a love of high art and a deep sense of introspection. Ascends to the state of godhood by being able to pull off pigtails while adult. Bonds with Sam over responding to loss by crawling into a shell but deciding to move on. Doesn’t care for your fancy schmancy fine dining, Romeo. Isn’t ashamed to openly talk feelings which includes her explicitly asking Sam if they have a thing going on (honestly, this is such a breath of fresh air for a normcore romance). Despite being scared out of her wits, she refuses to be shoved into the helpless civilian box after learning about the existence of the supernatural; Dean creates a Pinterest wedding board in response.

Status: Alive as of s5, pointlessly dragged back to be murdered in s8

Importance: Minor in the overall narrative, major in the episode and Sam’s development

On her own: A great love interest that has enough writing behind her to fool you into thinking she’s something more.

Up next, whenever I feel like it, seasons 2 and 3!

[whatisgoingonpaul]

Guess who put themselves though lost boys: the tribe. Last night and craves death? That’s right me.

Ohhhh to see without my eyes would be glorious. It is the most dated thing I’ve seen in my life and not in a good way. I cant even remember half the charecters and am having to look at the wiki if that tells you anything.

So no spoiler warning because - seriously do not watch it.

So dated-

As a 2000s kid, early 2000s movies are not something I look back at fondly as ‘adult’ movies at that time is mainly party’s , big tittie , curse and crude humor. This movie so desperately wanted to get in the cool kids club aka Rated R so they said fuck 13 times in the opening scene alone. Also dated by the really really shitty editing, and the “OH DUDE WE CAN USE LIKE DIGITAL EFFECTS WHAT UPPP” and shakey camera work. Also half the people are dressed like the worst end of the 90s/ early 2000s with the spike hair and fuck boy attitude. Movies from the 80s in my mind, yea they are dated but if they don’t rely heavily on references, tech , or common practice at the time it doesn’t come across as dated.

Takes the basic aspects but makes them bad-

So they try to imitate like small basic things from the first movie which we take shots of the town.... which is a run down sushi place and some chubby kids and emos that’s your “strange” people guys. Also the main vampire takes a lot of David bullshit and they whoop occasionally because “that’s what the other guys did.” Edgar also rehashes a lot of what we know. Also there is a sex scene to cry little sister because “THEY HAD IT IN THE FIRST MOVIE TAKE PEOPLE SWEATING.” Except they could not afford to use the og song and it’s a cover that sounds... like something else again I get whiplash to the early 2000s please end me. There is also more shots of the ocean and random cuts then substance in the movie

Charecters-

Ohhhhh how forgettable. How forgettable. I had to look up the main charecters names. So everyone’s like a good mid 20s or they at least look like their slowly trucking along to being 30 that’s another thing about early 2000s movie “please believe this grown ass man is a teen.” Like the og movie, the actors were in their early 20s for the boys but you would still believe they were actually teens; there’s a age where you can still play a teen for a while. I say this as they are clearly all adults and yet nichole is a 17 year old GIRL! Who they have drink and seduce one charecter before genuinely having sex with another. 17. So our main characters are Chris(??) and Nichole EMERSON. Do they ever explain their parents or relationship to the name? NOPE. I implied maybe star and Micheal but they both look WAY to old to be their kids at least Chris unless he’s supposed to be like 19 even then I will laugh in your face. So Evan creepy desperate emo here to die except he almost does twice but he lives.... yay. Shane and his Tribe( I said it I said the thing!) also did I mention.... they aren’t bikers.... there surfers! (Who have bikes later in the film...) so in the opening scene he’s “Some jackass from Santa Carla” is this ever explained in the movie? No. If you read rein of the frogs like I had HE WAS A SURF NAZI WHO SURVIVED(well... in a way)It’s a shame because he was one of the few charecters I enjoyed.... and was kinda really cute. Long hair , bit of a beard, scruffy looking(I have a type ok-) so if you didn’t read the comic he doesn’t really get any explaination or reason but apparently he used to be a surfer , one of the best before he dodged. Ok? Apparently Emerson was to, ok? The others don’t really get much past the one being called a adrenaline junkie like he is. I like the crazy motherfucker. Something else I found absolutely hysterical is that the two main others are obessed with their cameras always filming mainly women and their game. Their game? To literally shank each other and jump around and laugh and record them gushing blood, a particular favorite scene of mine is at the party the tall black one, Erik??? I think stabs the best buddy and twists, this mf literally- his intensines fall out and his other organs “DUDE WHAT THE FUCK I WAS GONNA GET LAID DONT FILM ME-.” He picks them up off the ground and walks inside so nonshalantly- girls are screaming and panicking and the other two are laughing their asses off. Did I mention these vampires, young vampires at that as even Shane is like maybe only in his 40s/30s but looks a young 20, throw ragers? Because it’s 2008 babyyyy. Nicole is the usual “I want to see my hair flow in the wind and talk romantically about death.” Aka what Dracula Adaptations do to Lucy westenra to make her major vampire bait, and naturally Shane took it. The best charecter is probably Edgar as he was constistantly halarious though out the whole film until he started quipping. There was also a mid credit scene with SAM FUCKING EMERSON PLAID BY COREY I SHIT YOU NOT. He’s a vampire. Why? Something happened between them and it has to do with Alan to. This I need explained to me right fucking now. Oh wait no the best charecter is the guy dressed up as the oiled up sax player.

Vampire inconsistency-

So new info;

-doesn’t spesifically have to be a stake or wooden just in the heart.

Inconsistent-

Apparently garlic does work now boys, despite the fact that it was very clearly stated by Paul in the first film that it wouldn’t (Edgar was there for that you think he’d remember-) however Garlic bolo took my soul.

There’s inconsistency in how vampires look in this film alone contradicts itself. Like. So lost boys established the basics

Yellow eyes, long nails, fangs, bad breath , the face bone shift.

This one has a cheap supernatural lookin’ ass black eye effect and some fangs. Except when they don’t and it’s yellow eyes and fangs also with no facial effect except no it’s full facial makeup with black eyes and veins. Except no it’s full facial prosthetic more like the first film but with veins , black eyes , Dracula slit nose and SHARK TEETH(it really is like super natural vampires JFC.) like there is 4 different ways they look in this movie alone wtf. Also Shane, a full vampire; the head, can go outside at sundown/twilight if he has sunglasses. Good to know.

WHAT IS THISSSSS LMFAOOOOO

Also where does this movie even take place? As it is Damn well not Santa Carla and they make sure you know that.

Also we end on a “kids are doing drugs aren’t you” haha aunt so stupid joke. LAUGH.

Again seriously sams a vampire. Not explained but illuded to, Presumably edgars fault. Considering he is a grown ass man as well it was likely recent, probably tragic. You would think Sam would be just as angsty as his bro but no he’s all dark and angry and again did I mention it’s the ACTUAL FUCKING ACTOR?

[abusybuzzingbee]

Hook Man | Supernatural Season 1 Episode 7 Rewrite | Dean x Fem!Reader

A/N:::: Thank you all for being so patient while I sorted this chapter out. Enjoy! :)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Major Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester

Warnings: Canon level violence, language, Dean and the reader being assholes to each other TW: mentions of suicide, self-deprecating thoughts

Word Count: 6,030

Summary: In a small town haunted by the spirit of an evil preacher, Sam gets caught up in a crush he feels he should not have. Meanwhile, the reader and Dean continue their bullshit. 

Series Masterlist

Season 1 Masterlist

Click here for the series playlist!

‘Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk

I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk’

“Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees played through your headphones that led from your ears to your back pocket where your iPod was stowed away.

‘Music loud and women warm, I’ve been kicked around

Since I was born’

You had woken up that morning with a strong desire to get your nails done. The polish job you had done on yourself weeks ago looked horrible, and it was time for a change.

‘And now it's alright, it's okay

And you may look the other way’

You had gotten some acrylics put on in a bright shade of red. Your music choice and the way you carried yourself back to the coffee shop you had left the Winchesters at expressed the confidence you were feeling.

‘We can try to understand

The New York Times' effect on man’

Dean refused to let you drive the Impala to the nail salon you went to, but you did not mind walking; it burned calories.

‘Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother

You're stayin' alive, stayin' alive’

You straightened your sunglasses on the bridge of your nose and took another proud look at your nails. Most girls were able to get their nails done whenever the hell they wanted, and would not be as elated as you were once they had gotten them done. However, you did not always have time between jobs to take care of yourself.

‘Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin'

And we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive’

As you walked up to the café you had last seen the boys at, you spotted the older brother at a table outside of the coffee shop. 

‘Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive

Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive’

You took your earbuds out and shoved them into your back pocket with your iPod.

“Nice of you to join us, princess,” Dean remarked while you sat at the round table across from him. 

“Ew, don’t call me that,” you grimaced. “That’s your name for your hook-ups.”

He looked up at you over his laptop. “And what would be wrong with being one of my hook-ups?”

“I don’t know, everything?” you snorted, scratching the side of your nose with the end of your nail.

The older brother apparently caught sight of your nails and shook his head. He turned his attention back to typing on the computer in front of him. “I don’t know how you can function with those.” 

“And I don’t know how you can function with your head up your ass, but here we are,” you snapped back. Taking a deep breath, you regained your composure. “What’d you guys do while I was gone?” you asked Sam. 

“I called the FBI, had ‘em check their missing persons data bank. No John Doe’s fitting my dad’s description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.”

“And you got nothing?”

“Nope.”

“I’m sorry,” you told the brunet.

“Eh, it’s alright,” he tried to shrug off. You saw right through it, and it seemed as if he knew you did. “But, uh, Dean thinks he found a case. Some guy got mauled by the Invisible Man according to the sole witness.”

“Well, what are we waitin’ for?” you smirked. “Let’s go.”

***

“Sam, you got purple shit on your hands,” you told the younger brother as you got into the Impala. 

The boys had come to pick you up from the motel they had dropped you off at about an hour earlier.

To your surprise, Dean chuckled at your comment.

“Dean made me paint our new roommate purple,” Sam grimaced.

“Oh,” you nodded, “must be a game today.”

“A big one, apparently.”

“So, where are we headin’?” you asked.

“To church,” Dean responded.

***

The muffled voice of the preacher carried through the ornate wooden doors of the church Lori Sorenson went to. Sam told her that she was the witness and her father preached at said church. 

Dean led the way through the large doors and held it open for his brother. You tried your best to shut the door quietly, which you did successfully. The congregation hardly noticed you had come in. The three of you sat in the back of the church. 

The voice of the preacher finally registered in your ears as you stared forward blankly. “The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passings. So, please, let us pray. For peace, for guidance, and for the power to protect our children.”

Sam lowered his head just like the rest of the congregation, but you kept yours looking straight ahead. You were not a believer in any sense of the word. 

The younger Winchester nudged you with his elbow, motioning for you to bow your head. You did so reluctantly. 

***

“Y’know, that was the first time I’ve ever gone to church,” you told Sam as you walked out of the mass. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, no, and I definitely don’t regret never having been before after that.” You paused. “That felt like a cult gathering,” you went on.

“Stop talking,” Sam nudged you when he noticed some of the people exiting the church around you giving you strange looks. 

You laughed, quieting down as you walked toward a young woman who you assumed to be Lori. 

“Are you Lori?” Sam asked the brunette.

“Yeah,” she smiled, turning to face you.

“My name is Sam. This is my brother, Dean, and our friend, (Y/N).”

“Hi,” you smiled while Dean waved.

“We just transferred here to the university,” the younger brother continued. 

“I saw you inside,” Lori replied. 

“We don’t wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened and--”

Dean cut his brother off. “We wanted to say how sorry we were.”

“I kind of know what you’re going through. I-I saw someone..get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.”

You cast your eyes up to Sam’s face, which was still toward Lori. 

Lori nodded slightly, her smile faltering. 

The reverend walked up to your group.

“Dad, um, this is Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). They’re new students.”

Dean shook Reverend Sorenson’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.”

“Thank you very much. It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.”

It was incredibly hard for you to resist the urge to snort out a laugh.

The older brother chuckled. “Listen, uh, we’re new in town, actually--” he began to lead the reverend away from you, Sam, and Lori, “--And, uh, we were looking for a, um, a church group.”

Catching on to what Dean was doing, you told Sam you would see him later. Sam looked down at you questioningly while you gave him a knowing smirk. 

The tune of “Rocketman” by Elton John left your lips as you whistled, leaning against the car in wait for the brothers. 

Dean was the first to walk up to you. He stuck his hands in his pockets before settling back in the spot on the Impala next to you. 

An awkward silence fell between you both after you stopped whistling. A few minutes passed before Dean spoke up. 

“Y’know, I’m surprised,” he started.

“About what?” 

“You actually kept your mouth shut for more than two seconds.”

“Bite me, Winchester,” you grumbled.

***

Dean lead you and his brother through the rows of books in the town’s public library. Sam was hot on his heels to converse with his brother as they walked.

“So you believe her?” Dean asked.

“I do,” the younger brother responded.

“Yeah, I think she’s hot, too.”

“No, man, there’s something in her eyes. And listen to this: she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.”

“Wait, the body suspended?” you jumped in, stopping in the middle of the aisle the older brother had led you to. The two Winchesters followed suit and faced you.

“That sounds like the Hook Man legend.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam nodded.

“That’s one of the most famous urban legends ever.”

“You don’t think that we’re dealing with the Hook Man,” Dean said.

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began.”

“Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?”

“Maybe Mr. Hook Man’s a spirit,” you suggested. 

Dean shook his head, doubting you once again, but headed off to ask the librarian for the town’s death records anyway. 

***

A little while later, you and the boys were sat at a table in the center of the library watching the librarian set large boxes on your table.

“Here you go. Arrest records going back to 1851.”

Dean blew some dust off of the top of one of the boxes and coughed, making you snicker.

“Thanks,” he said.

She nodded, replying, “Okay,” and then walked away.

“So, this is how you spent four good years of your life, huh?” 

“Welcome to higher education,” Sam remarked. 

You opened up one of the four boxes, grimacing as you looked down at the large number of files inside. 

***

Hours later, your head was hurting from the amount of reading you had done. Dean scrubbed a hand over his eyes and yawned before Sam piped up from the shelf he was leaning over behind you. 

“Hey, check this out. 1862. A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes. Uh, right here, ‘some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh.’”

While Sam talked, you were busying yourself looking over another page in the file. When the brunet finished speaking, you went on, “Get this, the murder weapon? Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook.”

“Look where all this happened.”

“Nine Mile Road,” Dean read. 

“Same place where the frat boy was killed.”

The older Winchester was impressed. “Nice job, Dr. Venkmen. Let’s check it out.”

You put the document you were holding back into the file and helped the boys clean up your table. After that, the three of you left the library with Jacob Karn’s documents in hand.

When you opened the doors, you were surprised at the fact that the sun had almost completely set. 

“Jesus, we were in there a while.”

***

By the time you got to Nine Mile Road, the sun was gone. The black night enveloped you and the Winchesters, save for the few patches of road illuminated by the streetlights.

Dean popped open the trunk while you slammed the car door behind you. He handed his brother a hunting rifle. 

“Here you go.”

“Uh, it’s a spirit, dude, not a deer,” you reminded Dean.

"Yeah, I got that, smartass. It’s rock salt.”

“Huh. Salt being a spirit deterrent,” Sam added, taking the rifle from Dean.

“Yeah. It won’t kill ‘em. But it’ll slow ‘em down.” The older brother took some rope out of the weapons box before shutting the trunk. 

The three of you began walking toward the trees lining one side of the road. 

“That’s pretty good. You and Dad think of this?” Sam inquired. 

“I told you. You don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius,” Dean replied.

You heard a rustling noise coming from the trees and shrubbery behind you and stopped walking. 

The younger Winchester pointed his gun toward the sound, and you jumped behind him. He cocked the gun simultaneously.

“Put the gun down now! Now!” he yelled, aiming his own pistol at you. “Put your hands behind your head.”

“W-w-wait, okay, okay!” Dean stuttered out while you immediately shrank to the ground, laying your weapon down.

“Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!”

Deciding it best to follow his instructions, you remained on the ground.  

“Now get down on your bellies. Come on, do it!”

Once again, you followed the man’s instructions. 

“He had the gun!” Dean protested.

“Shut up, jackass!” you ordered harshly. 

***

The next morning, you walked out of the sheriff’s office confidently with the boys hot on your heels.

“I saved your asses,” you said proudly. “Talked the sheriff down to a fine. Somebody give me an academy award.”

“But how?” Sam questioned.

“I told him you were a dumbass pledge and that Dean was hazing you.”

“What’d you say you were doing there?” 

“I told him I was Dean’s girlfriend.”

Dean about choked on his own spit. “You what?”

Sam ignored him and kept asking questions. “What about the shotgun?”

“I said that you were hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank.”

“And he believed you?”

“Well, you look like a dumbass pledge,” you smirked. 

Sam punched your arm playfully, making you laugh. 

A few moments later, your attention returned to the sheriff’s station when multiple police officers sprinted out of the building and sped off in their cruisers. 

You looked up at Sam, who mirrored your concerned expression. 

***

Poor Lori sat wrapped in a disposable blanket on the back of a parked ambulance, and you watched her as Dean drove the Impala past her. 

You could see Reverend Sorenson talking to the sheriff about something, but they soon disappeared from view when the older brother turned down another street. 

Once he parked the car, you and Sam walked with him around the back of Lori’s sorority house. 

“Why would the Hook Man come here? This is a long way from 9 Mile Road,” Sam pointed out. 

“Maybe he’s not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it’s about something else,” Dean suggested. You pulled him by his shirt collar back against the wall of the sorority house when you noticed two sorority girls coming out of the side entrance of the house. 

“What the hell was that for?” Dean questioned. 

You nodded your head around the corner behind which you were hiding. 

Dean’s aggravated glare immediately softened when he saw the two pretty girls. 

“Dude, sorority girls!” he whispered to Sam. “Think we’ll see a naked pillow fight?”

“You are such a pig.” You shook your head as you scaled the side of the house, managing to get up onto a ledge attached to a balcony. 

Sam climbed up after you, grabbing the hand you offered to help him up onto the ledge. 

You got up from your knees to follow Sam.

“Uh, a little help?” Dean called quietly from down below. 

You looked over the edge. “Hm, no.”

“(Y/N), c’mon,” he begged. 

“What’s the magic word?” you smirked. 

His mouth dropped into a frown, but the older Winchester begrudgingly said, “Please?”

You were still smiling. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” You got to your knees, leaning over the end of the ledge. Dean grabbed the hand you extended, and you helped to pull him up. 

Dean followed you over the railing of the balcony, but he was the first to head to the window Sam had gone into.

“I’m waiting, Winchester,” you told him, finding toying with the boy fun. 

“For what?”

With your hands on your hips and putting most of your weight to your right leg, you cocked your head to the side. 

He finally caught on. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” 

You rushed in front of him to go into the window first, turning around to stick your tongue out at him. 

Not a moment after you found your footing, Dean took it from you once again. He caused both of you to stumble as he fell through the window behind you. 

“Oh, sorry!” he told you. 

“Be quiet,” you muttered, choosing not to let your annoyance overcome you.

“You be quiet!”

“You be quiet!” you bit back childishly. 

For some reason, the architect who designed the sorority house thought it was smart to put a window inside of a walk-in closet. You stood up once again between two rows of clothing hanging from the walls. The younger brother looked through the small crack between the doorframe and closet door, waiting for someone to leave the room before the three of you headed into it. Once he spotted that whoever the people in the room were had left, he pushed the door open. When it made a small creaking sound, all three of you pressed your backs to the shelves in the closet. After you were sure the cops had gone, you walked into the bedroom. 

Your jaw clenched and your body tensed when you looked at the macabre scene before you. The first thing to catch your eyes was the bed, blocked off by caution tape and covered in blood. Next were the words scratched messily into the wall. Words that you assumed had been written by the Hook Man with his hook after killing the sorority girl since the words were dripping with blood. 

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?”

A symbol of a cross with four ‘x’s around the outside of it was beneath the words. 

“‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?’” Sam repeated the phrase embedded into the cream-colored wall. “That’s right out of the legend.”

“Yeah, that’s classic Hook Man all right,” Dean added, tapping the end of his nose as he said his next sentence. “It’s definitely a spirit.” He walked over to the window.

“Yeah, I’ve never smelled ozone this strong before.”

“Hey, wait,” you cut in. “Does that look familiar to you?” You pointed to the cross beneath the letters. 

“No, why?” the older brother asked, coming back from the window.

“I think it was on the hook in the drawing. There was a, uh, a chain attached to the end of the hook Jacob used I think with a pendant hanging from it.” With that, you headed off to the window in Lori’s closet. The boys followed you back to the Impala. 

“Keys, please,” you ordered. 

Dean followed your instructions, tossing the car keys to you so you could open it. 

After grabbing the Jacob Karns file from the backseat, you handed it to Sam. The brunet walked around the front of the car to sit on the hood while he looked through the papers. 

“Y’know, I’m surprised,” you told Dean.

“About what?” 

“You actually didn’t fight me on something for once. And you let me touch the keys to your car, all in the same day.”

“Bite me, (Y/L/N).”

You snickered to yourself, following Dean to sit next to Sam on the hood of the car.

“It’s the same symbol,” Sam confirmed. “Seems like it is the spirit of Jacob Karns.”

“All right, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down,” Dean responded. 

Sam flipped to another page in the file and began to read. “’ After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery in an unmarked grave.’”

“Well, shit,” you mumbled.

“Ok. So we know it’s Jacob Karns. But we still don’t know where he’ll manifest next. Or why.”

“I’ll take a wild guess about why--” Dean began, walking around the car to the driver’s seat, “--I think your little friend Lori has something to do with this.” 

***

You were somewhere you never thought you would ever be-- a college party. Sam and Dean’s new fraternity brothers invited them to it. A tall, handsome guy was chatting you up. He told you his name at some point, but you had since forgotten it. 

“Whaddaya say we get out of here?” he asked you. 

“Hm,” you pretended to be in thought, “I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.” 

“No?” he smiled.

“Uh-uh,” you replied playfully. 

He leaned his face down to yours slightly, his arms working their way around your waist. “What can I do to fix that?”

Your arms found your way around his neck. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

He leaned his face further down to connect his lips with yours. You closed your eyes as you kissed him back, making sure to keep your drink level in your hand.

The two of you made out for a few more minutes before you were called away from him by Sam. 

“Sorry,” you told the boy, excusing yourself. 

You and Dean walked up to Sam simultaneously. 

“Hey,” Sam greeted the both of you. 

“Man, you’ve been holding out on me,” Dean started. “This college thing is awesome!”

A pretty girl passed Dean by, and he winked and smiled at her.

“This wasn’t really my experience,” Sam grimaced. 

“Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A’s?” you teased.

The younger brother nodded. 

“What a geek,” Dean jested. “Alright, you do your homework?”

“Yeah. It was bugging me, right? So how is the Hook Man tied up with Lori? So I think I came up with something.” Sam unraveled a piece of paper. 

You took another sip of your drink while Dean read from the page.

“1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage.”

“There’s a pattern here. In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out—get this—with a sharp instrument.”

“What’s the connection to Lori?” Deam inquired. 

“A man of religion? Who openly preaches against immorality?” You waited for Dean to catch on. 

When he suddenly understood, you went on. “Except maybe this time, instead of saving the whole town, he’s just trying to save his only daughter.”

“Reverend Sorensen. You think he’s summoning the spirit?”

“Maybe,” Sam answered for you. “Or, you know how a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place?”

“Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay.”

“Without the reverend ever even knowing it,” you added. 

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight,” Dean told Sam suggestively.

“What about you two?”

You caught Dean staring at a beautiful blonde smiling at him from her position by the pool table. 

“I’m gonna go see if I can find that unmarked grave,” he said reluctantly. “C’mon, (Y/N),” Dean commanded as he walked away shaking his head in disappointment. 

***

Deep inside of Old North Cemetry, you and Dean walked around with flashlights in hand looking for Jacob Karns’ grave. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean called from several graves over. 

You jogged up to him. He was shining his flashlight on the grave in front of him. The same symbol that was on the hook and scrawled into the wall of the sorority house was engraved on the headstone. 

“Nice job,” you nodded. 

‘Wow, you actually weren’t a bitch for once.”

“Fuck off.”

***

Dean had taken off his jacket and button-down a while ago, just as you had abandoned your hoodie on the grass above where you were now digging. The two of you stood back to back in the hole you dug, continuing to drive your shovels deeper. You wiped the sweat from your brow with the back of your dirt-covered hand. 

“That’s it.”

“That’s what?” you asked.

“Next time, I get to watch the cute girl’s house.”

“Oh, come on, dickhead, let’s just get this over with.”

Finally, your shovel hit the wooden box the priest was encased in. You broke through it. 

Dean looked over your shoulder at Jacob Karns’ remains. “Hello, preacher.” He threw his shovel up to the top of the hole.

“Gross.” You scrunched up your nose as you did the same with your shovel. 

Dean clambered out of the hole, disappearing from your vision as he walked away. 

You almost climbed out of the ground when your foot slipped and caused you to fall back down. 

Dean peered over the grassy ledge at your slumped over form. “Need help, princess?”

“I got it,” you grumbled, feeling as though he was mocking you. You tried to climb out of the hole once more but failed.

“Sure you don’t need any help?” 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, asshole?”

“Yeah, maybe a little bit,” he smirked.

“Dick.” You reached your arm up to him. 

“Bitch.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you up next to him.

“Thanks,” you muttered. 

“Mm-hmm.” Dean had his back facing you as he pulled a few items out of his duffel bag. He turned to throw you a box of salt before grabbing a bottle of lighter fluid. You poured the salt over the body while he poured the fluid. 

“Goodbye, preacher.” Dean lit a match and dropped it onto Jacob Karns, completely engulfing the pine box in flames. 

“I’ll never get used to that smell,” you told Dean as you began packing up the bag. 

“Of what, a sizzling decomposed body?”

“Yeah,” you grimaced. 

A few moments of silence passed between the two of you while you worked to clean up your mess. 

“Dean?”

“Hm?” 

You paused. “Nevermind.”

“No, what’s up?” 

Once again, you hesitated. 

“(Y/N).”

You could not bear to look at Dean. “Am I a burden to you?”

“No,” he answered. 

“Dean, be honest with me.” 

“What do you want me to say, (Y/N)? You want me to tell you I hate your guts and wish you were dead?” 

You got up and turned to look at him. “Well, do you?”

“No!” He lolled his head to the side before bringing it back to the center. “Why would you even ask me that?”

“Because if you didn’t really think that way, then why else would the shifter say that to me?”

“You’re still on the shifter, huh?”

“How could I not be?” You bit back. “Picture this. You and your best friend’s brother fight all the fuckin’ time. It’s all fun and games until Toledo, Ohio, where he thinks you’d have the chops to murder somebody. Murder someone close to you. Then he tells you that he’ll be glad you’re gone when you finally find his dad. Oh, not to mention he tells you you’d drive your family insane enough that they’d kill themselves. So when a shapeshifter walkin’ around with his face, it’s really not that hard to believe him when he tells you your best friend’s brother thinks you’re a burden.”

Dean was completely silent. “(Y/N)--”

“Save it, Dean.”

***

You had not said one word to Dean since you left the cemetery. Even now as you walked down the hallway of the hospital Sam told you he was at, you would not speak to him.

There were police officers stationed a little way before the entrance to a hospital room that Sam and the sheriff were standing in. 

Dean tried to push past the two cops, but they put their hands on his chest to stop him. 

“No, it’s alright, I’m with him. He’s my brother,” he told the cops before waving and calling to Sam. “Hey! Brother!”

“Let them through,” the sheriff told the two officers. 

“Thanks,” you said to the policemen while you walked past them.

"You ok?” Dean asked Sam once the three of you had met halfway. 

“Yeah.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Hook Man.”

“You saw him?”

“Damn right. Why didn’t you torch the bones?”

“What are you talking about, we did. You sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns?”

“It sure as hell looked like him. And that’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching on to the reverend.”

“Well, yeah, the guy wouldn’t send the Hook Man after himself.”

Realization washed over you. 

“Lori,” you cut in. 

“Yep,” Sam affirmed. “Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.”

“So what?” Dean questioned. 

“So she’s upset about it. She’s upset about the immorality of it. She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.”

“Ok, so she’s conflicted. And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he’s doing the punishing for her, huh?”

“Right. Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair.”

“Remind me not to piss this girl off,” the older brother tried to joke. “But I burned those bones, I buried them in salt, why didn’t that stop him?”

“You must have missed something.”

“No. I burned everything in that coffin.”

“Did you get the hook?”

“Crap,” you started. “I don’t remember seeing the hook.” 

“I don’t get it, why do we need the hook?” Dean asked. 

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him,” his younger brother replied. 

“So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power.”

“So if we find the hook...”

“We stop the Hook Man,” the two boys said simultaneously. 

***

Aside from a few comments you made to Sam, you remained abnormally quiet throughout the rest of the day. You had gone to the library, where Sam discovered the hook had been sent back to St. Barnabas Church-- the church where Lori’s father preached. You and the Winchesters figured that the hook was the reason the priests that preached at St. Barnabas had been cursed for the past two-hundred years. The hook had been reforged into something else, however, hence why the three of you were heading back to the church to try and find it. 

Dean slammed the car door behind him, immediately barking orders at you and Sam. 

“Alright, we can’t take any chances. Anything silver goes in the fire.”

“I agree. So, Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in,” Sam added.

“Alright, take your pick.”

“I’ll take the house.”

You followed Sam wordlessly.

“Hey,” Dean called after you and his brother. “Stay out of her underwear drawer.”

You scoffed, continuing your walk up to the Sorenson house. 

As you and Sam rooted through the living room together, Sam finally decided to comment on your strange behavior. 

“What’s goin’ on with you, (Y/N)?”

“Hm?” You were hardly paying him any mind, continuing to go through the items in one of the side tables. 

“(Y/N),” Sam said again, but softer this time, “What happened?”

You sighed, turning around to face him. “You remember how I told you the shapeshifter said I was a burden to Dean?”

He nodded. 

“Well... I asked Dean if he really thought of me that way.”

“And?”

“He said ‘no,’ but of course he’d say ‘no.’“

“Wait, so you asked him to give you an honest answer, but you wouldn’t accept ‘no’?”

“Well, now that you say it it sounds fuckin’ stupid, but--”

“’But’ nothing,” Sam cut you off. “You’re pissed at him because he told you you weren’t a burden?”

You were silent. 

“(Y/N)... you don’t think you’re a burden, do you?”

You remained quiet once again, turning back to the drawer. You forced the lump that had formed in your throat down and went back to work. 

“So, how’d it go with Lori?” 

“(Y/N), don’t change the subject.”

“Sam--” you warned. 

He sighed. “I kissed her.”

You spun back around. “Why don’t you sound happier about that?”

“Because I pushed her away.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. You were not quite sure what else to say to that. 

“It just didn’t feel right.”

“I get it,” you told him. “It probably won’t for a while. But you’ll get through it. And I’m always here if you need help.”

“Thanks,” the young man answered. “I’ll always be here for you, too.”

You nodded sharply, turning back around to continue your work. 

***

“We got everything that even looked silver,” Sam told Dean as the two of you descended the stairs into the church basement. 

The older brother was throwing everything he had found into the furnace.

“Better safe than sorry.”

You dumped the bag of silver things you were carrying into the fire, but your head jerked away from the flames when you heard footsteps on the floor above you.

“Move, move,” Dean demanded quietly, taking his gun out of his back pocket. 

You took your gun out of the back of your jeans before you headed up the stairs behind Sam. 

All three of you were surprised to see Lori sitting in a pew alone and sobbing her eyes out. 

You lowered your gun and went back down the stairs. Dean trailed behind you. 

Aside from the crackling flames, the room was silent while you and Dean worked. Only a few minutes later, however, you heard pounding footsteps heading down a set of stairs separate from the one you and Dean had come down. Not a moment later came Sam’s muffled howl of pain.  

You sprinted up the stairs and held your gun out in front of you. Dean took the lead and dashed down the set of stairs he thought Sam and Lori had gone down. 

“Sam, drop!” Dean yelled before you got into the room. 

When you rounded the corner, you saw Sam crouched down on the floor with a horrified Lori huddled in the back right corner of the room. Dean shot the Hook Man, causing him to disappear. 

“I thought we got all the silver,” you expressed. 

“So did I,” Dean affirmed. 

“Then why is he still here?” Sam asked. 

“Well, maybe we missed something!”

You looked over at Lori. “That cross on your neck.” You pointed to the small silver cross necklace she wore.

“What?”

“Where’d you get it?”

“My father gave it to me.”

“Where’d your dad get it?”

“He said it was a church heirloom, he gave it to me when I started school.”

"IIs it silver?!”

“Yes!”

Sam ripped the chain off of her neck. 

Not a moment later, a horrible scratching sound came from down the hallway you and Dean entered from. 

You rushed out of the room down the hallway to where the scratching was coming from. Using your gun, you shot at where you thought the Hook Man was. Of course, he decided to make himself invisible at that moment which made your targeting only that much more difficult. 

“Sam, Lori, get outta here!” you yelled. 

Sam hesitated for a moment before grabbing Lori’s hand and taking her down the hallway in the opposite direction of where the Hook Man was. 

Within the next second, the scratching sound stopped, and all signs of the Hook Man were gone. 

You wheeled around when Lori shrieked. The Hook Man was towering over them with his hook raised in the air. Before you could move to aim your pistol, the spirit began melting from his hook down through the rest of his body. 

Dean returned a few moments later having destroyed Lori’s necklace. He glanced over Sam and Lori’s huddled together bodies, giving them a knowing look.

***

The sun had risen by the time you were almost through with your interrogation. 

“Yeah, we all saw him. We fought him off and he ran,” you explained to the police officer writing your statement down on a notepad. 

“That’s all?” he asked. 

“Yep,” you replied, popping the ‘p.’

“Looks like your buddies are headin’ out.” The officer gestured to Sam getting in the Impala where Dean already sat with the end of his pen. “You best get goin’, too.”

You nodded with a tight-lipped smile in response. While you got into the car, you noticed Sam looking in the passenger’s side rearview mirror at Lori. 

We could stay,” Dean suggested to the brunet. 

The younger brother shook his head. 

You turned around in your seat to see a sad-looking Lori as Dean pulled the car away from the scene. With a shake of your head, you turned back around, crossed your arms over your chest, and slumped down in your chair. 

So caught up in your own world, you did not see the strange glances Dean kept throwing you in the rearview mirror. 

Feedback is always appreciated and tags are open!

Series Rewrite Babes:

@rach5ive​ @ppeachygemss​

Dean Girls:

@akshi8278

[adrunkgiraffe]

I have been through this journey before, so I get to be actually frustrated about it.

IUnder a read more because im not subjecting y’all to this. Also: I should caveat I haven’t watched the episode cause I’m waiting till its on Netflix but I have watched way too many other episodes of Supernatural so I have a right to say these things. 

TL;DR: I mean you all knew Cas’ confession was fucking bullshit and that SPN is...hm. But I’d like to actually express my genuine frustration, for a moment? I’m going to say things you already know, but I have too much knowledge of this show and too much stupid meta in my brain about a series I haven’t genuinely enjoyed for at least 5 years which makes this not just blandly bad but disgustingly insulting to me not even as a gay just as like. A writer?

Or, even shorter: Cas’ confession is just a Charlie Bradbury Speedrun 

So. As some of you may know if, for some reason, you followed me back in 2013 (and till...okay fine 2015), I used to be, uh. Really into SPN. Really, I was into Destiel. Like, as in, I slogged through seasons 1-3 to get to Cas and am also really vulnerable to the Sunk Cost Fallacy and projecting onto characters. (I was in 8th grade in 2013, okay? Get off my back)

Also, because I monopolised use of the TV, I kind of...also got my parents into it? In a “this is silly but fun” kind of way.

Over time, critiques of the show from viewers, learning what queerbaiting is at all, fatigue with how long it was going, and also fatigue from how characters I enjoyed, like Rufus, or Crowley, or Ellen, or Jo, or Kevin, or Charlie, or Cas a few times, kept getting killed off. As time went on, it didn’t escape my notice that, aside from Cas, all of these characters fit one or more of the following criteria:

They were a woman

They were a person of color

Were Queer or Queer-coded in some way (listen Crowley was bad rep but at least Mark Sheppard actually kissed a man on screen)

I also just...generally got tired of the way the show treats women and sidelines people of color. 

The final straw really came with Charlie’s death. It got us all excited, because she hadn’t been back in a bit! And it was interesting to see how reuniting with her dark side from Oz had changed her! (yeah remember the fucking Wizard of Oz storyline? The writers sure don’t!) And maybe she’d get developed! Because at this point, Charlie and the fairly good writing of her character was a major upside for the series! Charlie was cool, fun, gay, and morally complex in a way...none of the female characters had been before her, in large part because by definition, her relationship with the boys would always be platonic.

And then. Offscreen. She is violently murdered. For no damn good reason. Like, literally, her being brought back in this episode after fucking off to europe after having returned from fucking off to Oz seems to have filled two purposes in total. 

The codex is solved (but Sam doesn’t know till next episode)

Charlie is dead, which means Dean can be angry, specifically at Sam, and kill more people because he’s the big bad this season. 

That’s it. Two things. Twooooo whole reasons to do this episode. Whoopee. 

But you didn’t come here for this, you came here for me to rip this reveal to shreds. Don’t worry, I’ll get there. What I want in your minds is that Supernatural already had a really good anddynamic queer character. And then they killed her off to make Dean angry. No, it doesn’t matter that they brought her back in season 13 or whatever. They made that decision. 

After the rage this incited, I started realizing general flaws in the writing (I had probably already noticed them but now I was angry enough to complain.) Every conflict is born of Sam and Dean not communicating/taking on burdens and Dean being angry at Cas for reasons that ranged from good to ridiculous, but in a way that always went way too fucking long, (which...yes, does make the “you do it for love” gifs fucking hilarious). It didn’t help that seasons 11 and 12 were next, which meant Demon Dean and GOD’S FUCKING SISTER, plus the decision to resurrect Mary, which, while I do like her later scenes, as a season 12 finale it...well I’ll be honest it kinda sucked. It undercut the majority of the Winchester’s’ arcs and their slow and painful journey out of their father’s toxic vengeance quest and knowing Mary as a person when it’s too late to know her was one of the last semi-compelling grounders of the narrative. 

By this point it was a hate-watch for my parents and I.

So then, I’m at college, and I’m not watching anymore cause I don’t have the motivation or access to Hulu to continue, and SPN is bad. I watch the Scooby Doo crossover when it comes out and my friend and I make fun of it, and we also continue making jokes about Dean and Cas and queerbaiting because we’re queer, but I don’t keep up. My Dad does though, so when I return, I watch some with the fam and lads. It’s even more tiring without context. 

So flash forward to Quarantine, my sister, the only one with taste, has left, and we have run out of netflix to watch. So we return to the well, and seasons 13-14 are. I’m gonna say it. Bad. Really fucking bad. The cycle of bad communication continues, season 14 has like seven antagonists and the way it’s structured makes it so I literally cannot remember the timeline of a season I watched 3 months ago. Oh also, they have a queer coded cannibal snake monster for...well I guess Jack’s snake bud was cool but like. Huh wow it’s almost like these writers don’t handle queers well. 

Our one saving grace is Cas, but he’s barely in any episodes, though I did note that his deal with the empty, being happy completely for one moment killing him, that struck me as “this has potential and I know they’re gonna half-ass it somehow.” Also Jack and Mary, but then oh...plot….The most compelling it gets is literally the finale.

But then, 3 days later, the first half of season 15 comes out on Netflix and it’s...actually kind of acceptable. The new character they give Jack’s actor is fun to watch him play until they make him evil. Exploring just how toxic Chuck can be gave the series direction again. The alternate future was genuinely scarring, and Eileen’s return was genuinely moving. Most of all, though, Cas got the opportunity to tell Dean no, that Dean was being unfair to him, had always been unfair to him, and he was sick of it. I had no illusions, I knew Destiel was never gonna happen, and Cas was gonna die, but giving him that bit of agency, letting Cas grow and be self-sufficient, and be angry with Dean not for existential reasons but interpersonal ones, was such a good sign for me, and Dean grew too! Dean fucking apologized for being horrible and Jensen Ackles had a...yknow what, ill give it to him, he had a good acting moment. 

But the thing. About. The “I love you.” 

Let’s take it in parts.

What was good: I’m gonna admit it, lads, “Wanting what I can’t have” - AS A LINE - is good, and, structurally, there is something to the Empty Deal that could have been an interesting aspect of Cas’ arc when it comes to self actualization and being on even footing with Dean. The problem is, this is Supernatural, and that arc only comes up when I bring it up because character study, even in bad media, is fun for me. 

What was bad:

I mean. Like. All of it? All of it. 

Okay. Fine. I’ll be specific. 

Cas dies immediately when - possibly because- he is revealed as having feelings for Dean. They kill him as they queer him, that’s a Bury Your Gays Speedrun right there.

Like the least they could have done is have him mention it to someone in another scene or something to establish some romantic feelings on the part of canon a full episode beforehand. That would have been the literal bare minimum. 

When Cas starts praising Dean, for some reason both the writing and Misha’s acting take a bit of a downswing (from...where it already was). Cas, whose most powerful moment this season was acknowledging that Dean’s anger at him is cruel and unfair, flatly praises him for doing everything out of love and it reads with a misunderstanding of both Dean as a character and Cas’ understanding of Dean. Dean is angry! VERY ANGRY! And it’s a problem he needs to work on and rarely does. 

Talking out of my ass, a better speech would have been about how Dean is angry because of his love for Sam, family, and the people around him, how, for better or for worse, he can’t help but be angry on behalf of others, and that his journey of moving that tendency towards the better is what made Cas care so much. Guys this alteration to the metaphor took 2 minutes to write tops I am an Art History student and these are TV WRITERS WITH YEARS OF EXPERIENCE CAN YOU TELL THEYRE NOT TRYING YET? 

A better speech would, of course, have come out of a better series. My point: this part was half-assed. Poorly written. Wow it’s almost like the series is also poorly written. 

 Also, Misha is the better actor of the three(***OF THE THREE), but his choices in that scene are jarringly out of character which. Makes the bad writing worse. It doesn’t help that they cut to the same fucking shot of Dean 3 times. The chemistry in that scene makes it feel so fucking hackneyed. Because it is. 

This combines lead me to the point: (wait there was a point to this?)

As someone who does not have the luxury of watching this capsized ship fall into boiling seas from a distance, it is less insulting to me that they did this so last minute and then sent Cas to the Void than it is how they did it. They had ingredients for something that could have been compelling enough to me as a former fan of the show to think that they had put effort into it, that they had decided months, perhaps even years ago to do this, and had crafted a storyline around it. That this was an intentional decision they cared about. It wasn’t. It was barely even pandering, because it’s almost insultingly blatant. 

SPN kinda proved to me that it didn’t care about queers when Charlie was killed off. It proved it to me again when Cas, not only died in confessing his love for Dean but did it in the weakest result of what could have been a surprisingly strong story.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

A Little Piece Of Heaven (part one)

[Tour!verse]

TW: Surprisingly not many...I guess mockery of religion, specifically Christianity and anything in that branch. Very minor mentions of self harm (like one time- if you blink you’ll miss it). But mainly this fic is just psychological.

———————

Lord of The Flies

Let’s get something clear really quickly: Joan Meutas was not religious. Did she used to be? Unfortunately, yes, but after seeing the world for what it really was, after getting an axe to her vagina from her beloved husband, she has realized that there was no merciful God who would save lost souls. It was all a hoax by crazy old folk from wherever Jerusalem was to herd people into one belief, thinking that it may make them more humane and friendly. But religion has done more harm than good- Christianity damns all non CIS heterosexuals to hell, Jews got murdered by the thousands, that one branch literally won’t eat anything besides fucking grain or some shit, Catholics are just rude as all hell, those fasting things literally cause people to STARVE TO DEATH, and for what? To appease some higher being? Do they truly think they will be saved? If God was so merciful and wonderful and kindhearted, why would he make things like murder and cancer and rape and torture?

Joan even once heard that the Bible stated that when a woman was on her period she had to leave her village and wasn’t allowed to come back UNLESS she had a turtle dove. She’s never read the Good Book before, so she doesn’t know if that was true or not, but it doesn’t sound unlikely given all the stupid rules she’s heard about.

So, no, Joan was not religious.

It’s strange, she thinks, how offended people get when she says it or simply hints at it. Their eyes will practically bug out of their skull and they probably pray for her “lost soul”, maybe even do that weird cross gesture on their chest when they think she isn’t looking. They look at her as if she was actually a demon spy loosed from hell and not just someone who has enough common sense to realize that an “all powerful father” was complete and utter bullshit.

That’s the thing- it’s like the word “atheist” was purposely made to seem like the most evil string of letters to ever be created. You know the words- those synonyms that just sound much worse than the actual root phrase (molest, slaughter, moist). Atheist just has this dark shade to it. Or so religious people say.

But enough of that! There’s a reason why such a taboo subject is being brought up.

Joan was going to contact Death.

As they say, desperate times calls for desperate measures. And desperate Joan was.

You see, her queen- Jane Seymour- used to be quite the woman. Sharp, beautiful, powerful, but also warm behind the closed court doors. Joan was very lucky to see this side of her as her youngest lady in waiting, often getting called gentle pet names and sometimes pats on her head if she was particularly lucky that day. As a touch-starved orphan servant, this was like a pot of gold to Joan- love and affection is something she’s craved long before reincarnation in the modern world. And, speaking of the resurrection, Joan thought she would get even more of Jane’s “Mum Treatment” since they had more time on their hands, but she was very, very wrong.

Jane...Jane was different. She changed. No longer was she the motherly, caring, strong woman from the past, but instead coming back as some reduced version of herself- slightly younger (24, 25, maybe even 23), more awkward and timid, and much less maternal. The way she now looked at Joan wasn’t with compassion, rather...plain curiosity, sometimes even aversion. Her memory of her young lady in waiting has waned- it was as if she didn’t remember that Joan had been at her side the whole time when she was bedridden after giving birth to Edward! Like she couldn’t conjure up the remembrance of a teenager literally watching her rot away and slowly die for days!

To say the least, Joan was not happy. Add in trauma, insomnia, hate on social media, constant stress and pressure from her profession, and a severe lack of friends and you can probably see why Joan was going to such extreme measures.

Now, she knew about the stories. She’s read The Monkey’s Paw. She knows about the consequences of one’s actions. Joan wasn’t going into this completely stupid- have some faith, will you?

Gambling with Death was a risk. A huge risk that could very well end with her soul being ripped out of her mouth or her flesh being worn by a supernatural being that then goes on to commit atrocities under her identity. And not only was it a massive risk to take, it was also very, very stupid.

If I have to spell it out for you, listen closely: Death knows things. A lot of things. They don’t call him the “Lord of The Flies” for nothing. Which is why he loves to play games for those desperate enough to contact him because he knows he is much smarter than whatever pathetic, miserable piece of useless garbage comes clawing at a mirror, begging him to reveal himself. And unless you have every secret of the universe, you’re probably going to get ass-blasted back to Tuesday.

Oh, what am I saying? You won’t get a second chance.

You’ll be long gone by then.

And whatever state the cops find your body in the next morning depends on whatever mood the beast was in.

However, in Joan’s case here, she is desperate and stupid enough to take the risk. In her eyes, she doesn’t have much to live for. She’s a slave to SIX- day and night she’s working endlessly over musical paperwork and the same songs over and over and OVER again. It doesn’t help that she isn’t the closest to the rest of the cast and is often left alone when everyone else goes out and has fun. The scars on her wrists are evident of how many nights she’s been alone.

Without Jane, she has nothing to live for. She needed her.

And that’s exactly why she was sitting on the floor in front of a mirror propped against the wall in the dark theater surrounded by candles and a semicircle of salt.

Joan has done a lot of studying up to this point. She knows she has everything correctly, now she just has to get Death to appear...and hope he doesn’t immediately pull her small intestines out from her throat for bothering him.

Joan stares into the mirror as hard as she can, closes her eyes, then counted to ten. Her eyelids lingered shut for longer than she would like to admit after she hit the number one, but she eventually pried them open.

It was not her reflection staring back at her.

To be honest, Joan wasn’t exactly sure of what she was expecting to see. Some parts of her believed nothing would happen, other parts convinced itself that a grim reaper-like figure or a horned, goat-legged demon would be kneeling on the other side of the glass wielding a scythe or pitchfork. However, a suit-wearing young man was not really something that crossed her mind in her theories.

If Joan wasn’t a lesbian, she might have found him attractive, but he definitely was at a straight woman’s perspective. Perfect smile, the most amazing cheekbone structure, unflawed olive skin, neatly combed brown-blonde hair, a broad chest, phenomenal shape- if it weren’t for his yellow eyes with slit pupils, he might have been the perfect lady’s man (although, knowing straight women, they probably wouldn’t care for his demon eyes- after all, you don’t need to see someone’s peepers to suck cock!).

Joan sat completely bewildered, all of her confidence draining and being replaced with dread that drenches her like a thick, dark oil spill. She can feel her hands, which are lying in her lap, starting to tremble and clenching her fingers doesn’t help at all. The ability to form a coherent sentence slips from her mind, so Death speaks first.

“Hello, Joan Meutas.”

This guy is the real deal. He pronounced her last name correctly!

Joan opens and closes her mouth like a fish out of water and Death is thoroughly amused by her sardine impression. He watches her through the glass, waiting patiently for her to learn how to enunciate again.

“H-h-hello-”

“Yes, yes, h-h-hello to you to,” Death laughed. He wasn’t directly trying to be cruel, but Joan’s self esteem was far enough into the ground to hear his jibe as a mockery of her understanding of the English language. “If I let you speak the whole time we are going to get nowhere! Pull yourself together, kid. You should see the look on your face! You look like you just got caught making out with the family goat!”

Joan’s expression remained one of fright.

“What? Didn’t you own a goat back in- god, what year were you born? 1517 or 1525? Historians paint it as both! But I thought a family farm animal was the big rave back then! I apologize- I need to catch up on the modern slang. Say, would you be considered a ‘boomer’? Because I have been DYING to use that phrase on someone who contacts me. Could you imagine it?” He warps his voice into one of a pruny old woman, “‘I wish for great fortune!’ ‘Okay Boomer.’” Death bursts into fits of maniacal laughter that sounded as if a thousand lost souls were chortling together at once.

Joan is still silent, but during Death’s monologue she was able to wire her brain back to functionality. She sits up a little bit straighter and Death notices, so he containers himself instantly, also fixing his posture.

“Ready to talk now?” He asked.

“Yes.” Joan answered.

“Wonderful,” There’s a glint in his piercing yellow eyes, “What is it that you desire of me?”

Joan gathers up all her courage, sits up a little taller, and says, “I desire to challenge you to a game of question-and-answer.”

The glint flares into a blaze of confidence. If Joan stares hard enough, she swore she could almost see the fires of Hell burning in his eyes.

“How fun,” The words ooze out from Death’s pale lips, soaked in liquid menace. “Shall I go over the rules?”

Joan nodded. She knew them, she knew she did, but it would be good to hear them one last time.

“Very well,” Death said. He cleared his throat and began speaking as if he were reading off of a manual, “Death’s Gambit: A two-player game between the Lord of The Flies himself and a human. After being conjured- just gonna skip over that process, you’ve clearly got it down, kid- and initiating the game, both parties will have sixty-six minutes and six seconds to answer as many questions correctly as possible. Anything can be asked- trivia, personal inquiries, riddles, even dares, as long as the salt circle is not exited. The catch of the whole thing is this: The Prince of Darkness is obligated to tell the truth only if the human answers correctly to his question or does a requested dare or the human manages to stump him. However, if he answers correctly or the human answers incorrectly to HIS question, he may lie about whichever question he wants. The score will not be revealed until the very end once the time is over. If the human wins, the Keeper of Souls MUST grant any one wish they have. If He-Who-Lies wins, the human will be the victim to whatever losing punishment he comes up with. Remaining rules include: The salt circle cannot be left- you may find yourself no longer in your dimension-, the game cannot be quit until the time is over, items like watches or phones are not permitted to be used to look up answers or keep track of the time. Good luck and Beelzebub be with you.”

Despite knowing this all already, hearing it out loud, spoken by the beast himself, made it all hit home for Joan. She was really doing this; she was gambling with Death.

She had to be the stupidest fuck to ever grace God’s green earth.

“Are you ready to begin?” Death asked.

Joan took a deep death and answered, “Yes.”

A wicked smile curled on Death’s lips. The candles around Joan blaze.

“The game is on.”

A dark feeling weighed down on Joan after that was spoken. The air around her seemed to shift. Her gut was screaming at her to run away, to hide, to do something other than just sit there, but she couldn’t move. Not from fear, but from sheer will. She couldn’t be stupid. Who knows what lurked outside her thin salt circle....

As he usually did, Death initiates the game and asked his first question.

“What was the name of Catherine Parr’s true love?”

Like that, a cold stone drops deep into the pit of Joan’s stomach. Of all the questions she expected him to start off with, Tudor history was not one of them. It startles her, takes her by surprise, and she realizes very quickly that that’s exactly why Death asked it. He’s trying to disorientate her right off the bat and weaken her before she has the chance to get some points in.

She could not let that happen.

It’s just that- she didn’t know Tudor history outside of knowledge on her queen and whatever is said in the show. The others certainly did talk about their past lives, but Joan- she-

It stung, to say the least, when she realized that Death knew about her nonexistence friendships with the queens. And that he was targeting that.

“Thomas Seymour.” Joan finally said.

She was pretty sure that was the right answer...but not completely positive. And, because of that, her worried mind began to scream doubts inside of her brain.

Was that a trick question? He’s supposed to be the embodiment of pure evil- wouldn’t he think Henry is Parr’s true love? Was Henry the right answer?

“Your turn.” Death said, not reacting to Joan’s answer, which scares her even more.

“What’s- why did you choose to show up in that body?”

“Oooh, you’re starting with a personal inquiry!” Death said, laughing, “How fun! And I hope you’re not flattering yourself, Joan- I don’t look like this to make your pussy wet. Trust me, I could look way more attractive, but I know you.” Those three words slither into Joan’s ears and made her shudder. “Isn’t the whole point of being a lesbian to not be attracted to men?” Death laughed again, “But I look like this because I want to. I can take whatever shape I want! Remember that one time I was a snake? That was weird. Although, peeping at a naked chick was pretty damn fun. As a lesbian, you could probably appreciate the sight.”

For just a moment, the image of Death disappears, the mirror hazes to white, and Eve appears. Not the paintings you always see- THE Eve, bare breasts and vagina and all, and if Joan weren’t also asexual, her own genitals may have been burning with desperate pleasure.

“She was a sight.” Death said, returning to view. He chuckles, then immediately goes to his next question, “What was the exact height of Mount Everest in the year 1666?”

Joan’s heart just about stopped.

How in the holy hell was she supposed to know that? Then again, that was probably the point of asking such a thing.

“Three...hundred feet?” It came out as a question, but it’s taken as an answer and Death doesn’t react except for a slight twitch of his nose. “What...is the hardest piece to learn on the piano?”

“Liszt.” Death answered smoothly. “What animal can see the most amount of colors?”

“A...dolphin.” Joan physically cringed at her answer. “Who wrote Liszt?”

Is this what she was going to be doing the whole time? Asking the King of Hell fucking piano trivia?

“La Campanella.” Death once again answered perfectly. “What is the full chemical name for the antidepressant and anti-anxiety medication, Zoloft?”

Wasn’t that the medicine Joan was supposed to take for her anxiety?

“I- I don’t know.”

Death just hummed and awaited his next question. He didn’t laugh at her like she expected him to, which slightly lightened the blow of her stupidity.

“What’s my favorite song in SIX?”

“None of them. Why did you stop taking your Zoloft pills?”

The answer followed by such a question felt like Joan was just punched in the stomach with a spiked gauntlet. She swore she was winded by some unseen force (probably shock). Her breath hitched in her throat and she seemed like a little kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I-” She hunched her shoulders around her neck. Death is giving her a curious look, which was at least better than worry or concern. “They- they weren’t helping me...so I didn’t think there was a point taking them if they weren’t going to fix me.”

Death hummed once more, this time louder and more enthusiastic. He clearly liked her answer.

“Interesting,” He mused, then quiets himself for the next question.

“What’s standing behind me?”

Ever since the game began, Joan picked up on the presence of something staring at the back of her head. She could feel their eyes burning into her skull, sometimes even breathing on the back of her neck.

Death smiled. “See for yourself.”

Joan saw nothing in the reflection, just darkness beyond the candles and Death, and she was not about to go and look away. She was scared about what would happen if she turned her gaze away from the mirror for even a second.

When Death realized Joan wasn’t going to fall for his tricks that easily, he quirked an impressed eyebrow and moved on.

“Will you greet the worker who just came in?”

Joan glanced fearfully to the corner of the room. A figure is hunched there. The glow from the candles just barely licks at their claws.

“What was their name? Terrance?” Death said, “Doesn’t he work in lightning?”

“That’s not Terrance,” Joan murmured.

Death took it as an answer, it seems. He leans in close to the glass and when he whispers, his hushed tone is right at the back of Joan’s ear.

“You don’t want to know what he really is.”

Joan can feel a panic attack rising in her chest. Death is trying to scare her, stray her from answering coherently or correctly and get her to waste time by freaking out. She had to steer the game back into calmness.

Or, rather, however calm a Devil game could get.

“What do I have in my pocket right now?”

Death seems a little bothered that the cryptic theme was interrupted, but he gets over it.

“One black pen that’s almost out of ink, a granola bar you promised yourself you would eat, and a rosary you stole from Aragon.” He said, “Oh and, by the way, that isn’t going to protect you from me. So return it as soon as possible or Aragon is gonna be PISSED!” He laughed, imagining the storm the golden queen would cause if she caught Joan with such a precious belonging.

Joan swallowed thickly. She didn’t want to check her pockets. She didn’t want to know that he was right.

“What is the color of the sky?”

It seemed like an easy enough question, but Joan, believe it or not, knew better than to fall for such a simple trick. She wracked her brain for a moment, then answered, “Black.”

Death doesn’t react aside from licking over his dried lips. His tongue is too pointy. Joan moves on.

“Does Jane care about me?”

Honestly, the question kind of surprised her. It bubbled up from her throat from out of nowhere- yes, she had been wanting to ask it so badly, but she didn’t actually expect it to come out.

“Yes.” Says Death.

For a moment, joy bursts through Joan, but the metaphorical, celebratory confetti is sucked up by the vacuum of doubt.

Is he lying? Is he giving me false hope? Or is he telling the truth?

“What’s your blood type?” Death asked.

“A...AB.”

Like Joan fucking knew that.

“What’s my favorite color?”

“Blue.” Death smiled, “Because the blue sky would always remind you of opportunities for a better life.”

A shiver runs down Joan’s spine. She didn’t like how he knew that.

“What’s something that you can’t eat for lunch or dinner?”

He’s asking a riddle. Joan bit the inside of her cheek, thinking.

It couldn’t be a food. That was too easy.

Think, Joan, think!

“...Breakfast.”

Death chuckles. Joan doesn’t know what to think of that.

Twenty minutes pass by in a blur. Cold sweat soaks Joan’s brow, dripping down her face, but she’s too scared to move from her stiff position. Her back muscles hurt from sitting like a statue for so long- how the hell does Death look so relaxed? Then again, he doesn’t really have much to worry about.

He doesn’t have to worry about the possibility of being mutilated or dragged to Hell or that that figure in the corner has been getting closer and closer as the minutes passed by.

“Do you think every human deserves to live?”

The question came out of nowhere, really. Death had been asking mostly trivia up until that point. He tittered at Joan’s stunned expression, then raised his eyebrows as if to say, “Well?”

“No.”

Joan didn’t hesitate because she knew it was the truth. Not everyone deserved to live. Rapists, pedophiles, serial killers, racists, homophobes, terrorists, abusers- they didn’t deserve life. People like them deserved to die.

And anyone who doesn’t believe that is a fucking idiot.

“Do YOU think every human deserves to live?”

Death scoffed. “Of course not.” He peered at Joan, really analyzing her for the first time. His yellow slit eyes raked over the girl, making her feel uncomfortable and violated. “You know, you and I think a lot alike. Not many humans give ‘no’ as their answer. They think optimism will make them seem like a good person. It’s pathetic.”

Joan just nodded silently.

“Now...where were we? Oh, yes.” Death leaned in, “Which queen suffered the most?”

Joan furrowed her eyebrows. The whole point of the show was to not compare, especially traumas, but...

“Katherine Howard.”

Come on- clearly K Howard had it the worst. The girl was violated by four different men before she was an adult! None of the other five stories combined could possibly rank to the fifth queen’s suffering.

“Honestly, I think the same!” Death said, “I mean- what is UP with the whole ‘one of a kind, no category’ gimmick? How stupid! Last time I checked, being a victim of sexual abuse doesn’t make you ‘one of a kind.’ Why would you even think of it that way?“

Joan nodded slowly.

“I agree,” She said, “Um- here’s my next question: Is this question false?”

Death raised his eyebrows and cooed in obvious interest.

“True.” He said, smirking. “My turn. Do you resent the queens?”

Joan actually recoils. Death laughed.

“I-”

Did she? Did she resent the queens? Surely she didn’t... She couldn’t! The queens were perfect! How could anyone ever hate them?

“No.”

Death almost looks disappointed.

“What’s worse than death?”

“You’re living it.”

Cold sweat drips down Joan’s face. It stings her eyes and is salty on her tongue. She hears noises all around her, but doesn’t dare to look. She already knows “Terrance” is on his knees beside the salt circle and his leaning his face in right next to hers. She can smell the rot on him.

“Have you ever wanted to hurt the queens?”

Death’s questions are definitely ramping up in darkness. Was the time close to ending? Is that why he’s getting deeper?

Joan shut her eyes tightly for a moment, but opened them quickly when the fear of losing sight of Death nagged at the back of her mind. Before her, on the other side of the mirror, the being is waiting patiently, eagerly for her answer.

“Sometimes,” Joan breathed, “Yes.”

Death smiles a wicked smile.

“How interesting,” He purred, then gestured for Joan to ask her question.

“Does God exist?”

“Unfortunately.” Death groaned, then laughed. He inspected Joan again. “How would you hurt the queens?”

Joan felt her stomach ache. She didn’t like that question. She didn’t want to think about actually hurting the queens, even if she’s considered it one or two times before.

“I- I haven’t really given it any thought.” She answered, then quickly sputtered out her next question before Death could comment, “Does the Bible speak the truth?”

“Of course not.” Death said. “My next question is this: If I were to give you a task, would you do it?”

“Depends,” Joan said, “What would the task be?”

Death held up both arms in a shrugging motion. “I don’t know! Pick up my dry cleaning? It depends! Don’t put me on the spot like that!” He then laughed that horrible laugh again. Once he contains himself, he says, “Time is ticking. The game is almost over. I want to switch things up before we end. I have a dare for you.”

Joan nods.

“Stab yourself in the hand.”

That flush of icy cold dread floods through Joan’s system again. Every part of her being screamed at her to refuse, there will be other offers or questions she could make up for, but she knew that was just false hope. Like Death said: time was almost up. She couldn’t risk refusing and docking more points (if she isn’t in the negatives already, that is).

“Fine.” She forced out through her teeth.

She reached for the pen in her pocket, but Death held up a hand.

“Don’t use that inky thing,” He said. “It won’t get the job done. Please- allow me.”

He flicked his wrist and a large carving knife appears out of thin air and clatters to the floor in front of Joan. She stares at it for a moment, then picked it up, setting her left hand down in its place. She took a deep breath, screwed her eyes shut, and plunged the blade down.

Joan couldn’t choke back the scream that burst from her lips. She cried at the pain, sobbing in horror when she looked down to see the knife practically pinning her hand to the floor. Dark red blood pools around her fingers, gushing and spurting like spigot from the wound when she pulls the blade free. She cradled her wounded hand close to her chest, weeping weakly.

“Very good,” Death cooed, clapping.

Joan raised her eyes slowly and Death smirked at how lit up they were, almost like hot coals.

“I have a dare for you.” Joan growled, her voice low and dangerous.

“I accept.”

“Change your eye color to blue.”

For a moment, Joan swore she saw the slightly twitch on Death’s features. She watched him close his eyes, sit their silently for a moment, then open them again.

They were still yellow and slit.

“I cannot.” He said. However, he wasn’t angry or irritated at being stumped, rather amused. “Next...what is the flying speed of a swallow?”

Joan ripped off of a strip of her shirt and wrapped it around her bloody hand, hoping it would be a good enough substitute for real bandages for now.

“African or European?”

Death grinned. And that grin only grew wider as the candles around Joan went out until only the one behind her remained lit.

"̸̡̢̢̣͓͚͖̪̼̪͑͊̈́͋̀́̾͗͘ͅT̷̼̺͈̮̜͔̙͂̋̉͋͛̈̿̀̕͜͠͝i̸̢̹̙̼̠͓͚̖̗͔̮̔̌͂̓̐̊̈́̔̃̕m̸̡̱̤̱͙͎̦̱͙̪̻̓̅͌̉̀̈́̐̄͒̌̕͘͝e̸̟̳͒'̸̗͎̞̙̋̎̓́́͑̉͐͑̈́s̷̰̬̙͖̲̩͚̥͈̝̩̻̻̮̭͂̀̐̓̑̓͌̓̀́̐̐ ̷̡̳͍̗͉̝͔̃̑͛̀͊͌͆̌̒̃̔͘̚͠ͅû̵̞̠̣͉̻̖̅̓̄̏͝p̷̛͖͎̮̖͇̬̮͉̥̲͈̟͊̃́̃̏̇̇͛͗̅̕͘,̷̢̧̧̹͈̗̝͙̪͉̖̆̈́ͅ ̸̲̩̥̇͂̓͌̀̋͗̀͛̚J̵̼̣̋ö̴̡͕̺̪̠͓̹͔̂͝ą̶̡̜̭̤͖̭̫̝̘̆̂̾̐͊̾̒̂̏n̶̛̛̬̦̥̠̮̐̓̃̋̍̒̂͐̂̽ͅ.̴̪̰̩̀͊̑̐́̂͗̍̐̈́̚"̴͍͆͛́̈́̈́̍͆̀͗͘͝͝

It was almost impossible to breathe. Joan can barely hold herself together- the tears are flowing freely and she can’t get them to stop. She would say a prayer for her damned soul if it weren’t for the whole atheist thing, and she worried that Death would get angry at her for it, even if it was said in her mind, which he couldn’t possible read (or, at least, she hoped he couldn’t).

Still, she bowed at the waist and thanked Death for the game.

“Let’s tally up the score, shall we?”

Joan first saw blood start to spread across Death’s midsection, then a sharp sting struck her in the stomach. She hissed in pain and lifted her shirt slightly, as did Death, and they both saw tally marks upon their flesh.

Death had twenty-three.

And Joan watched in shock as a twenty-fourth tally carved down through her skin right before her eyes.

“Congratulations, Joan Meutas,” Death says, “You’ve won. What is it that you wish for?”

[lastflcwers]

we love a boy in all black everything anyway hi it’s amanda again and i’m on my bullshit

『NICK ROBINSON ❙ CISMALE』 ⟿ looks like CASTOR DECODY is here for HIS JUNIOR year as a HISTORY student. HE is 23 years old & known to be WELL-TRAVELED, FERVENT, FLEETING & MELANCHOLIC . They’re living in MORIS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ amanda. 22. mst. she/her

trigger warning: drug use, death, cancer

NAME:  castor “cas” simon decody AGE:  23 BIRTH DATE:  august 17th, 1996 ZODIAC:  leo sun, scorpio moon SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  heterosexual SOCIAL CLASS:  upper HOMETOWN:  seattle, washington EDUCATION LEVEL:  junior studying history FACE CLAIM:  nick robinson ADDICTION(S):  has been to rehab for xanax dependency DRUG USE:  smokes weed mostly but will participate in most drugs otherwise ALCOHOL USE:  yes POSITIVE TRAITS:  fervent, well-traveled, loquacious, dreamy NEGATIVE TRAITS:  fleeting, melancholic, vulgar, unrealistic LIKES:  greek mythology, radiohead, napping, writing DISLIKES:  talking on the phone, sunbathing, due dates, the beach

my boy castor here is an old muse of mine, dating back like at least three years ??? so i’ve got quite a bit about him but we’ll see how good i am at relaying it

cas is the reluctant only child of a right-leaning politician (father) and a paralegal (mother, deceased). he was raised mostly in beverly hills, but has spent some years living in seattle and toronto as well.

once he graduated high school, he spent six months abroad in europe, mainly staying in greece and italy. it was there that he sort of “discovered” his 18 year old self, and still feels like he left a piece of himself there. he also got really into partying, and did a lot of things he never would’ve done otherwise.

when he came home from the trip, he found out that his mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer while he’d been away. his family did not call to tell him, so he began resenting himself (and his dad) for so selfishly traveling when the best person in his life was undergoing treatment.

at age 19, when his mother passed, cas delve deep into a depression that he’d always sort of had but never let overwhelm him. he began using xanax on the regular, finding it much easier to just become belligerent or nap all day than to face the sadness he was dealing with.

between the ages of 19 and 23 he has gone to rehab a total of three times.

as for his personality

cas is a writer by nature, always romanticizing the shit out of everything. he thinks everything has deeper meaning than it necessarily does, particularly his interactions with women.

has an obsession with stargazing. go fucking figure. knows a lot about constellations and space. kind of pretentious when it comes to his interests but doesn’t actually act like he’s better than people. loves reading so so much. especially mythology. i imagine that he grew up with this fanciful library in his childhood home. something like this.

is VERY keen on anything supernatural which is likely why he chose radcliffe in the first place. 

actually very funny??? very self-deprecating humor but god damn does it win people over

tends to be fairly agreeable but will share his knowledge when he doesn’t understand a point of view

drives a nice ass bmw but doesn’t give a fuck about it. he takes little to no care of anything he owns, tbh. isn’t innately messy but just careless

and lastly we have wanted connections

- ex girlfriend(s) honestly castor would be such a sweet sweet boyfriend but they broke up for some reason or another. could be cheating involved on either end or maybe both?

- europe flings ??? idk if anyone has muses that have spent time in europe or are from there but i love the idea of him having this fleeting ass romance with some girl and like running around in barcelona or some shit

- to build off of that further... cas did experiment with his sexuality a bit while in europe. so that connection is open to men to, even though he’s mostly decided he’s into femme-identifying people. internalized homophobia who?

- give me some girl he’s lowkey obsessed with but they are not that close ?? like he writes cute prosy shit about her but they do not hang out other than maybe class or something

- roomies pls. lives in moris, though i imagine he may have at one point stayed in perkins to his own dismay. so maybe ex roomies too?

- hookups? i don’t think castor is like CRAZILY fucking everybody but he’s not about to say no to some hot ass girl

- somebody he lets read his writing... he has to be SO close to this person but also not??? like he wouldn’t want them to know too much about him personally but has to trust them

- friends and pals. fellow night owls. people he can bullshit with. nobody too dull-witted. i know i said he isn’t pretentious but that was a lie

[fics-not-tragedies]

Dead as dead can be: Itchy bones

prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven

It’s a teaser/prologue for the upcoming John Constantine chaptered series called “Dead as dead can be”. This scene appeared in my mind after I re-watched Constantine for like the twentieth time and so it is. I have a thing for dark women in fiction where the plot line is based around supernatural element. So yes, let’s begin the adventure ;)

SUMMARY: A very old friend found a twisted way of asking John for a favor. Words: 983; Warnings: smoking;

Readers tag list:

@spookier-than-u; @sparrowsparrow; @magdazwolska; @mikaneonox; @derangedcupcake; @geostarr; @catsmieow; @wickedlangdon; @bodhi-black; @bugalouie; @onebatch--twobatch; @fandom-lover-4; @drunkonyellow; @semtempoirmaoo; @spadesandaces; @harrisongslimited​;

“How was death, Jonathan?” Her sultry voice echoed in his ears, “Or should I ask: how was hell?” She was always so overconfident, he could assume it was the cause of her premature death. John decided that this time it all was worthy at least some effort and turned around to face her; he removed the unlit cigarette from between his chapped lips right before the sight of her made him drop it to the ground.

Crimson lace of the gown that was hugging her body, underlining every curve of her figure definitely didn’t fit in the usual-Friday-night-outfit scheme. It was something more than that and she was much more than an usual human being.

The woman smiled, showing him two rows of perfectly white teeth, along with the set of her long fangs. She flicked her tongue across her lips, painted in matte crimson, and smiled even wider, the corners of her mouth curling, forming an evil smirk on her gorgeous face.

Making few steps towards him, her stilettos clicked on the crooked concrete tiles, but there wasn’t any flinch nor any stumble, she kept slowly sauntering closer to him like she was walking a catwalk.

John placed the cigarette back in between his lips, his hand moved to the pocket of his jacket in a search for his golden lighter, but even before he could reach it, digging it out to the surface, she already lit the cig with a silver one she held in her slim fingers.

After snapping the lid close, she touched his chin with her long nail, that was neatly covered in scarlet varnish and slid it down onto his neck, “I heard you quit, Jonathan, many years ago”, her fingers squeezed his throat. He hissed at her, his action triggering her giggle.

Her other hand wandered to his lips, snatching the lighted smoke from them and putting it to her own. After two quick drags she inhaled the smoke and gave it back to him, “Thanks” John growled through his gritted teeth when she placed the cancer stick between his lips.

Exhaling the smoke she breathed it directly into his face and he coughed few times, the harsh smoke making his eyes water. When she removed her hand from his throat he could finally catch a proper breath and fully enjoy the cig. She took a step back, but kept staring at him, the evil grin not leaving her face.

“What do you want?” He growled at her again, the tough sound that left his mouth made the lines on her forehead more visible. She slid her hand down her neck and onto the deep cleavage of her dress, “Perhaps you should stop flirting and start talking.”

The laugh that filled her whole body and bubbled on her lips, bouncing of every wall, echoing on every street, woke up the whole city, “You never were a fan of relationships” in a second she was back to absolute-and-utter-calm pinched with a small amount of revengeful spite, “rumor had it, that it all changed with Angela” he finished his cigarette and dropped it to the pavement, stepping onto it with his boot.

“Nothing changed with anyone.”

“Yet you still keep an eye on her” she started to circle him like he was her prey and she waited for the perfect moment to devour him.

After another lap he finally failed to remain calm and grabbed her wrist, stopping her from moving, “Can you tell me what the fuck do you want from me?” He tightened the grip he had on her wrist, the lace cuff of her dress tickling his skin.

With furrowed brows she took one step closer, their bodies almost pressed into each other.

“Don’t touch the flame if you don’t want to get burned” she was back to her bullshit with the sultry tone of her voice, batting eyelashes at him, the evil grin still glued to her lips.

“Cut the poetical bullshit. I’m not helping you in any way, kiss my ass sweetheart” John let go of her hand and slapped it back when she wanted to touch his.

“Jonathan, I’d love to kiss your bubbly butt, but it’s not a time nor a place for it. Besides, I wouldn’t stalk you here if it wasn’t something serious” he rolled his eyes at her and dig out another cigarette from the pack he kept in the inside pocket of his coat. She snatched it from his hand even before he had the chance to place it between his lips and crushed it in her hand letting the tobacco debris fly from it freely.

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat as he tried his best not to say few things out loud. With hands clenched into fists he stood with his face directly in front of hers, “You know how my bones are itchy for you” she started with her voluptuous tone, trying to hypnotize him and his mind began to pirouette, his tensed muscles become relaxed, when his fists became un-clenched she slid a small envelope into his hand, “maybe in another life I could finally be with you” he turned to a piece of clay she could form freely with both of her hands now, “and have you, in all of the ways I always wanted to, because yes I do, I want you.”

After few blinks he finally retrieved his mental skills, “Get to the point” he spoke softly, but her figure disappeared from his vision long ago, before he was able to say anything. A loud “fuck” escaped from his lips and few by-passers turned around to see who was cursing on the street.

The only proof of her existence was the matte ivory envelope he held firmly in his hand, an unlit cigarette in other and an imprint of her red lipstick on his cheek.

[normal-thoughts-official]

I love your Magnus responses! Some have brought me to tears :') hopwfully you haven't answered this yet. I always see fics/ metas on how Alec came to terms about his sexuality, but never on Magnus (or just a selecative few). In your opinion how did he come to terms with his bisexuality? - luxxmagnus

okay first of all I LOVE UR BLOG im so glad u like my shit omg fajsfoamsa and second of all BOY DO I HAVE THOUGHTS ABOUT HOW MAGNUS CAME TO TERMS WITH HIS SEXUALI-

okay SO. your relationship with sexuality is deeply influenced by your early years, as is, well, most aspects of your personality lol. so i think it’s fascinating to think about magnus’ relationship with his gender identity and sexuality considering he was born in early-1600s indonesia, aka right when the colonization started. meaning, a lot of their customs and views on gender and sexuality couldn’t have possibly been erased yet, but they were being very violently and aggressively repressed. and then he finished his growing-up years with asmodeus, a demon, who can’t really give much of a fuck about gender identity and sexuality. so this means a very complicated relationship is bound to develop, and i love it.

unfortunately, magnus’ exact ethnic background isn’t specified in SH (nor tsc, i believe) which makes the whole discussion a lot harder because there are hundreds of native peoples in indonesia. however, they were very much in contact with each other both before and after the dutch invasion and subsequent colonisation, so what i’m gonna do here is talk a little bit about the views on the subject magnus was definitely aware of, and go from there

i know this specifically asked about his bisexuality so i will refrain from shitting my trans magnus headcanon all over the place but i will say that the Bugis people recognised five genders, including one for AFAB people who identified as neither male nor female, and one that embodied both female and male identities

anyway, queerphobia is, in fact, a very recent and very european thing, and most indonesian people, like most asian people and most non-modern-western peoples, were actually A-okay with what we view today as homosexuality. there were even many rituals centered around men-on-men and women-on-women practices. they were also pretty open with sexuality as a whole; there’s even a mountain with a shrine where people have sex with strangers as part of their religious worship.

but, as we know, the european colonizers were very intent on killing off and erasing all records of their dominated cultures, particularly the aspects that directly challenged the european model of gender, sexuality and relationships, to the point where we, ppl born in previously colonised countries, don’t even know about our culture’s views on gender and sexuality. in indonesia, the dutch criminalised homosexuality and we can’t forget that magnus’ stepfather was dutch, and that magnus was born after the colonisation. 

so here’s the context: since it was very early in the colonisation days, there is no way that magnus didn’t know about the very rich and diverse gender and sexuality practices in his own country. there’s just no way. it takes decades to completely erase that shit. and we can’t forget that all indonesian peoples resisted colonisation, a lot. we don’t know the exact nature of magnus’ mother’s relationship with his stepfather, but it is very likely that he either enslaved or forced her to be in a relationship with him, because - well, because that’s colonisation, folks. it’s what these guys do. this is also supported by the way his stepfather treated magnus, because i mean, what the fuck. it was extremely rare that native colonised ppls would willingly be with their coloniser, particularly considering how the dutch were just, like, casually deporting and starving indonesian native ppls and ppl in java had been at war with the portuguese would-be settlers (would-be because they lost amazingly lmao get rekt) since the beginning of the 1500s. so im gonna go out on a limb here and say that magnus’ “stepfather” was, in fact, an abusive piece of shit coloniser who probably mistreated magnus’ mother and was probably a huge reason why she killed herself - i mean, your people are dying, and you’re bound to this guy who abuses and rapes you and keeps telling you everything about you and the way you live and was raised is demonic, that’s just bound to mess with you. actually, the religious aspect of colonisation that taught ppl that their cultures and religious were demonic and immoral and that they either had to repent for that and submit to the colonisers or be killed slash go to hell, hmmm…… well, is probably related to the fact that the idea that magnus was demon-related was repulsive enough to her that she killed herself? and that’s if we go with the interpretation that magnus was the main reason, which isn’t really reliable because 1- magnus clearly thinks he needs to Save Everyone and is bound to think that if anyone gets hurt it’s his fault; 2- canonically, it was magnus’ stepfather who told magnus that the reason she killed herself was magnus’ heritage. i mean i find it hard to believe personally that magnus’ mom didn’t know she was fucking a demon or at least a supernatural entity of some sort, and the whole angel-demon division is a christianity thing anyway, so what the fuck does this mean to magnus’ mom, really? especially considering that, unlike magnus, she probably was alive before the settlers arrived, so it’s even harder to believe that she would just uncritically believe everything about good and evil she was being taught by the guys that were, you know, committing mass genocide. i personally think that if magnus’ eyes were related to her killing herself at all (which makes less and less sense the more i think about it. i mean, what, was he born glamoured? surely she knew about this before he was like 11 or something) it would be because, in a way, this proved that everything she was being told about herself was true. she was demonic, her culture was demonic, and they deserved the absolutely horrific and traumatic things that were happening to them, and her son’s eyes proved it. so it’s not really about magnus as it is about, like, the entire continent of Europe’s bullshit. and anyway, again, everything she was going through was extremely traumatic - i think magnus’ eyes would be almost an afterthought, if considered at all.

anyway, sorry, went on a huge tangent here, i have no self control whatsoever. what i’m trying to say is that magnus grew up in an environment where expressions of different gender and sexuality were very repressed, but he was born in the heart of the very resistance. he was a native man (or, well, boy) and he knew for a fact that most people lived outside of the constricting western gender and sexuality binary, and he lived in a time where the europeans hadn’t really managed to dominate and erase their culture - of course, they never truly did, but the differences were way more latent. so magnus’ views on the whole thing were probably among the lines of “the asshole white people think the way we live is bad and are trying to kill us and that’s why they’re assholes and we’re trying to kick them out, but currently me and my mom are on their hands so i’m gonna have to behave like they expect me to”. so, lots of abuse, a very complicated relationship, but i do believe that magnus wouldn’t have internalised the european bullshit because, well, he was seeing the counterpoint and the resistance and he certainly knew which side was “his”. also in his flashbacks he’s wearing traditional indonesian clothing so there’s that - proof that he wasn’t completely assimilated to european views and culture.

and then he killed the stepfather (good riddance, rot in hell) and went to live his final teenage years with asmodeus. i mean, more like was found by asmodeus and forced to be with him by both the circumstances and asmodeus himself, but you get what i’m saying. 

here’s the thing: asmodeus is definitely an asshole and an abuser, but i can’t bring myself to believe he gave a good fuck about modern-western gender roles and sexuality. he is older than them. by a lot. and he doesn’t even care about the earth realm that much, his whole thing is that he wants to rule edom, so i’m not even sure if he knows about them beyond the, like, very very basics. maybe not even that. so during the rest of magnus’ formative years, and probably the time he figured out what exactly his sexuality was anyway, he was in a pretty open environment when it came to that.

so with that we’ve reached the first conclusion of this huge-ass essay that you probably didn’t sign up for: up until he went to England, Magnus was probably pretty comfortable when it came to his sexuality. like, shit, he was fucked up about everything else, but this one thing i can’t see him internalising a lot of.

i’m gonna fast forward the asmodeus years because i don’t have a lot to say beyond that and also i have no fucking clue what the fuck was going on during that time????????? like it ended when magnus banished him to edom, so i can only assume they were on the earth realm the whole time, but what exactly were they doing???? no clue. i am gonna say, tho, that i think one of the reasons why magnus managed to break out of asmodeus’ shitty “be evil” conditioning is precisely because he had been on the other side before?? like obviously magnus must have been an extremely compassionate kid (which again makes absolute sense in the context of him being part of an oppressed people that were trying their hardest to fight together. you learn a few things about community-building and taking care of others in that context, lemme tell you) since he was out there blaming himself for his mom’s death and also for killing his literal piece of shit stepfather who also tried to kill him as well, but i think it’s just that much harder to help your dad commit mass murder when you’ve been on the receiving end of it. obviously he was probably around asmodeus for a while (i’m thinking until he was like, 18? you know, enough to be an adult), especially considering how he needed the help to learn how to master his magic and also he had nowhere else to go, and also asmodeus was all over the place with “they will always think you’re an abomination, i’m the only one who understands you” and he had eyes like him and all. but still. he knew that he didn’t want that, he knew that he liked earth and didn’t like edom at all and he knew that in order to be himself he’d need to get rid of asmodeus. so he did.

anyway, after the First Great Yeeting Of Asmodeus (second yeeting was when he sent him to limbo so he would never be able to come back. ugh we stan) Magnus went to England. I’m guessing that somehow he met other warlocks during his time with asmodeus (which actually makes sense, i mean, asmodeus must have been wanting ppl to join forces with so he could defeat lilith? or something like that idk they never said anything about what they were doing with their time magnus’ backstory’s got more holes than a swiss cheese) and there seems to be a pretty tight warlock community, so maybe he went to wherever it is that the warlocks meet to gossip and shit? trying to find somewhere else where he belonged. and there he met Ragnor, who helped him break out of his shell and find who he was beyond the constant abuse and the deeply ingrained idea that he was Born To Be Evil.

so for a while, magnus was learning who he was, and again the Warlock Community should be pretty open with gender and sexuality considering most of them are also older than western binary bullshit and also come from different, non-european backgrounds. it was probably at this point that he started going around, having relationships, looking for someone who loves him and somewhere to belong in, you know. haha im fine and soon he figured out that he wanted to find out more about the world. magnus is a curious and creative guy, he’s going around inventing portals and shit, he wants to see the world. so magnus goes to the mundane world. it makes sense, considering in most of his pics he seems to be in mundane settings, and there were no accords at that time. also i mean even post-accords magnus is still going around owning clubs where mundanes can get in so i think he’s quite fond of mundanes.

and that’s when shit comes crashing down, because “sodomy” was punishable by death in England until the 1960s and like boy these guys were not into the whole free sexuality thing. at all. i tend to think magnus would go looking for sex and stuff in downworlder and warlock spaces, where there was a lot more freedom and nobody gave a shit, but he was going around meeting people, and he’s vulnerable and he wants to be loved and he’s definitely been in relationships with mundanes. he knows he needs to hide it, but it doesn’t mean he’s uncomfortable with it. so he might get the occasional insult and he knows he needs to be careful, but this is one aspect of himself he’s actually okay with

but like, he’s spent centuries doing that, eventually shit would go down. and it does. i firmly believe that one of his lovers got caught and got the death penalty. magnus managed to escape but couldn’t save him, and i mean, that’s at least the third time he’s blaming himself for someone’s death. immortality is tiring, and he doesn’t feel like he belongs anywhere. there’s the shadow world, but even there he’s being looked down on because the shadowhunters are racist assholes. he’s got his friends, sure, but he’s never really felt worthy of any love, or like he belonged anywhere, and he’s been through so much abuse and being used and everything he touches seems to go to shit and he’s tired. and he’s killed someone he loved. again. so he goes to the bridge. and camille finds him, and stops him.

now, i don’t know if that’s how they’ve met of if it’s happened before, something like, seeing each other in parties and in downworlder spaces or something. but either way, he’s at a really low point, and that’s the first meaningful interaction they have - camille saves his life. he feels like she cares.

she’s not the only one who cares, obviously. so does ragnor, so does cat, so does dot and lots of other of his friends. but at this point, he’s feeling so empty it’s hard to believe that they care, and camille is all too quick to figure out his exact weaknesses - she’s there to listen to him when he wants to kill himself, i can only imagine the infodump that went on that night. he gives her all she needs to know - his fear of abandonment, his desire to be loved, his belief that he will never be accepted no matter what, his fear that he really is evil inside after all despite everything proving that he isn’t - to use against him perfectly. camille is smart. she’s also manipulative. and she also seems like a ticket into a somewhat normal world - she’s a woman, she’s immortal, she’s acting all sweet around him and telling him that she understands, that this is why she doesn’t mingle with mundanes, that it’s better if they’re just amongst themselves, that people like them can’t trust too much and need to stick together. slowly, she plants into him the idea that he’s gullible, has a weak judgement, and is just weak in general for going around thinking he could ever have a thing with mortals or could ever find a space to belong. she uses that to drive him away from his friends and make sure he does as she says. also, magnus owes her, doesn’t he? she saved his life. how can he fight her, when she saved his life? how can he say no to her? how can he disagree? he’s gullible, he’s weak, and she’s the only one who has enough patience for him. everyone else leaves. she’s all he has.

in conclusion: his sexuality is a huge factor in camille’s abuse, it’s what makes him vulnerable to her and gives her every tool she needs to manipulate him. it’s not direct, she’s not about to make fun or dismiss his bisexuality because she knows this is not something he’s internalised, but she can weaponize the trauma that queerphobia brings to his life, and so she does.

she wrecks him. like really really wrecks him, everything he’s built for himself, his identity, whatever he had of his confidence. like he was still trying to build all of that, but he was getting there, and she gets him back to ground 0 just like that. i think he only broke up with her because she started doing her more Clearly Immoral shit and magnus can’t do that. say what you want, but magnus’ actual nature has always been to care and to give all that he can for others. and camille is just evil mcbad. and her abuse goes a long way, but i don’t think anything could actually break magnus enough to be okay with hurting others. especially considering how most of his trauma seems to revolve around the fact that he believes he is constantly hurting others, and it seems to me - considering how he’s going all around the place helping everyone and sacrificing himself without a second thought - that helping others is even a way to cope somewhat, he doesn’t focus on himself, he does his job and helps others and doesn’t think about himself and so he copes, he can do what he’s good at and also believe he’s somehow “repenting” for “killing” his mother and stepfather (it was SELF FUCKING DEFENSE he didn’t murder him, but he does seem to believe he did). so that’s probably when they break up, when he realises that camille is just. keen on hurting others and she’s bored with him and his morals anyway. i know that in book canon apparently the reason they broke up was that she cheated on him, but again i don’t consider book canon and show canon to be the same canon, specially considering how magnus is a wildly different character in those. so i don’t think that would somehow be the last straw for him. camille probably was cheating on him left and right but he probably just believed that it was his fault, or just kept forgiving her anyway because he had nowhere to go and it should be enough that she loves him and saved him, right?

he doesn’t really get around to realising that camille is a straight-up abuser and awful person (as shown by the fact that he seems to still internalise the whole “camille saved my life” bullshit when she was really just manipulating him and using his vulnerability against him) but he does realise that he can’t keep looking for a partner as a solution to his issues. he also doesn’t really want to be in a relationship after her, not when he’s broken in more pieces than he was when he left asmodeus, and that was a lot of pieces as well. so he sleeps around and all, crafts this whole playboy persona of his, and locks his heart away. dedicates himself to the downworlder children he keeps adopting and trying to help, reconnects with ragnor and the other warlocks - who kind of knew what was going on and never blamed him for it or for growing distant with them because they’re amazing and probably have seen this happen many times before.

he also carefully avoids mundane men. he’s not risking getting anyone else hurt.

but then there’s the 60s and 70s, and he’s in bloody new york, and the queer community is shaping itself, and goddamn, after all the hurt and pain he’s seen due to sexuality, he’s not gonna ignore this. also, his Adopting Instincts are way too strong anyway, he can’t really see people struggling and not do anything. so he supports queer spaces, probably made pandemonium one, too - a particularly safe queer space, since she could use his wards to keep police out of his business and ensure everyone’s safety. he definitely was there at stonewall and subsequent protests and parades, keeping people safe, weakening gas bombs and the like with magic, making sure they managed to escape jail.

magnus’ relationship with the mundane queer community is kind of weird, then - he’s not an actual part of it, not really, and he’s particularly scared of getting attached then, so he guards his heart with even more determination than everywhere else. but he still wants to help, so he brings in his money, tries to keep them safe, participates in some community activities and volunteers, and occasionally talks to some kids who were just kicked out of home or something, who are dealing with self-loathing and fear, and even though he hasn’t gone through the whole “my sexuality is unnatural” thing or particularly hated that aspect of himself, he does know what it’s like to be cast away and seen as a monster, and to see himself as uncapable of being loved. so he listens and he talks about his experiences and tries to help as much as he can, and for the most part, he’s successful and he feels kind of accomplished in that sense. he might never have hated himself for his sexuality, but this is the first time he is fully able to bring it into his mundane life. and it also helps him deal with and talk about his other issues, even if he can’t be 100% frank about being an immortal being who does magic and shit, he can connect to these people in a lot of ways, and he also has his own scars brought in by homophobia even if they weren’t internalised in the same way. also, there are names popping up for what people are, homosexuality is being decriminalised all over the world (even in england, he’s heard), things are starting to look up.

as the 80s come up, he knows that a lot of things are changing - that white gay guys are getting more and more space, that the word “bisexual” is being popularised, but also that the reason for that is that a lot of gays and lesbians are trying to get bi ppl out of some spaces, that there’s a division going on between people who want to be seen as palatable and are willing to step over others to get it, and people who refuse to blend into an oppressive society, or just can’t, because they’re trans, they’re people of color, they’re sex workers and homeless and they can never be really assimilated when, even if they’re not getting the death penalty, they’re still getting killed and framed as criminals for existing.

magnus is a person of color as well, he’s bisexual (meaning one of the groups that were being cast away and despised by the white, “clean” gay movement) and he’s been there since the beginning, where these exact people that are being driven away were the only ones building the queer movement, so i think it’s pretty obvious who he “sided” with. not much changed in that aspect, then, since the spaces of queer resistance he was used to were the ones created by the “outcasts”. it was disappointing to see a movement that seemed so amazing at first get slowly gentrified and push the most vulnerable people away again, but at this point, he was used to seeing the divide, to drawing the short end, and at least he could continue as he was and try and help people, right? so life was good as a whole.

then the AIDS crisis happened, and shit that was SO rough. people were dying left and right, they had nowhere to go and there was so little he could do. of course he tried his best - pandemonium, like many other similar clubs, was definitely raising money to help the victims, and he was definitely volunteering to help them, along with catarina (who’s better at healing than he is, anyway), but even healing magic isn’t as simple as “begone, disease” and this was a completely new thing, anyway. there was little they could do beyond try and lessen the pain and symptoms and spend countless nights awake doing research and trying to figure out what exactly was causing this and what they could do to help and try to cure it. it’s endlessly frustrating and he gets to see a lot of people he knew, and talked to, and helped, die slowly while he was unable to do much, and shit is that a theme on his life. he also blames himself for not being able to work out a cure - what good is fucking magic if he can’t do this? - even if he and cat do figure out ways to help, at least. but they’re just two people and creating spells isn’t easy and it’s not like their patients have a lot of time, and also he needs to sleep, as cat and dot keep reminding him. the mundanes beat him to it, and for a while he can breathe again. but then there has been so much loss and death the community is in shambles and they’ve been set back one hell of a lot, and magnus is so tired. his friends help him, reassure him that it’s not his fault, and he’s okay, because he’s stronger now, he’s been getting better during all these years and a part of him is used to it - it never hurts less, but it does get easier to push through. 

and then, well, there’s the whole war against valentine thing, and then the accords, so i think for a while magnus was kind of not very involved with the mundane world, and also this is already WAY to long to get into the 2000s and shit, but i will finish by saying that maybe after a few years magnus might get somewhat involved with the community again, because i just. really like the idea of magnus joining some kind of group of bisexual men and learning that SO MANY of them have gone through abusive experiences with straight girls that are scarily similar to his experience with camille, considering, you know, all the other layers involved and the fact that it happened centuries ago. and it kind of works as group therapy, and magnus finally realises that what he went through with camille was abuse, and that he’s not alone, and that queerphobia made him vulnerable, and that the fact that he is part of so many minorities can mean that, rather than not belonging anywhere, he belongs in many places and many different spaces, and he’s helped so many people in so many different ways. and then he finds out that there are other warlocks who are working as therapists and in there he can talk about his immortality issues and, well, other issues and he starts healing faster than before - he’s been healing ever since the breakup with camille, of course, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to open up to alec. like, of course, alec and him are soulmates and shit, but if he wasn’t in a better place he wouldn’t have allowed himself to fall for him like he did. and. yeah. magnus doing therapy and getting better and finding groups where he feels like he belongs, and realising camille was an abuser, please.