#but i think he's sort of torn between the point where mary is trying to temper his recklessness and whether that makes him bad

[heartofstanding]

I would gladly sit through your 35 minute presentation on Hal and then do my own.

(also I swear to god John's one biographer would talk about how messy he was in France and then call him boring and I'm like HOW DID YOU COME TO THAT CONCLUSIONS. HOW.)

Everything you said about Thomas is making me rotate him in my mind at about 5000% more speed than usual. He's so interesting and so under-explored, I really need to write something about him.

#this is why in the modern AU Henry thinks Thomas is living the perfect life and everyone else is just like 'Sir that is a mental illness'

g o d. I need to be reading this modern au already. I think Henry's favouritism is really damaging to both Hal and Thomas - Thomas doesn't really "get" to have a identity outside of his father's mirror/his father's favourite.

JUST realised I had not inflicted this terrible, no-good, very bad question on you so here you go:

Rank the Lancasterlings in terms of your interest. 😈

How dare you come into my house on this beautiful day and ask me to Henry IV my children

Hal, naturally. I want to lock him in a lab and study him. All I think about is how completely normal he is. Hyperfixated so hard that when I was 17 I made my class sit through a 35 minute presentation on why he is the Most Interesting.

Philippa. Extra tormenting because we basically have the cliff notes of her life with no elaboration. It's a bit of a double edged sword because if we knew more about her there would probably be an insufferable amount of girlbossification, but Katherine Hepburn would probably have played her in a biopic so really we would be winning (also she actually did what a lot of girlboss history claims their favourite historical figures did, so you know).

Humphrey. He is the Real Housewife of Medieval England, and I love mess. Only has room in his brain for books so he lets his junk do all of the decision making. Somehow ended up the most tragic of the doomed siblings because all of his brothers are dead. He is so dumb and it's fascinating.

John. I love him, but the payoff of being the competent brother TM is that even though he's not boring, everyone talks about him in a boring way. He gets slot into dull but effective, like he's the accountant of the family I'm come from multiple generations of accountants I'm allowed to make that joke so all of the interesting details about him get sort of hidden away. Like, tell me more about the mess he was dealing with in the north, and the time he and Thomas got arrested for brawls, and his illegitimate kids; not the alchemy obsession that seems to be pulled out of thin air.

Blanche. The unfortunate byproduct of her dying so young with not much evidence surviving about her is that there will never be much to know. But I want to know. I want her letters and her diary and what she thought of her situation and whether she was angry at all about being married off so young she probably didn't even know what it meant.

Thomas. The problem with Thomas is there's a lot there, but no one ever mentions it. There's probably loads of juice to him, except it gets warped into "He's Henry's favourite and then just creates problems until he dies" and that's just not a narrative that lends itself to further study. I didn't start getting interested in Thomas until I read fic from his point of view that really delved into how much it would mess with your head to be the favourite child in this family. Like obviously being the only son your dad actually likes (allegedly), being the one he takes with him into exile, the only one allowed to get married, the only one trusted to go to France-- but not the one who is going to be king-- would completely mess with your head. I can totally believe him signing up for the assassination plot, and feeling like he needed to prove himself in an Agincourt-like battle to the detriment of reason, because the guy basically got his entire identity turned into being Henry IV's perfect son. He's sporty-- so is his father. He's a lady killer-- so is his father. He's good in battle-- so is his father. Even after Henry's death he doesn't get to form his own identity, and the identity he has steadily gets chipped away. The psychological rammifications of that could be fascinating, but historians either only praise him out of the belief that he's a nuisance to Hal, or basically ignore him entirely.

[tomurasprincess]

quote #41 with dabi and prompt # 15 -hi it be raph and i’m dancing like a crazy rn,,, can’t wait to see what you come up with mari 💜

Pairing: Dabi x Reader Quote: Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that? Word; Aphrodisiac Warnings: Noncon, aphrodisiac, drugging, fisting, anal sex, double penetration, overstimulation, multiple forced orgasms, bondage, yandere Note: OMG Raph, I am so sorry that this took forever to write but I knew I wanted to make it really good. Hopefully I succeeded...because this is certainly some fierce thirsty energy right here 🥵 And yes, there is some massive sequel bait at the end.

Prompt Masterlist

You stop your frenzied run through the back alleys of your patrol route in order to double over in pain, grabbing at your stomach as more cramps overtake you.

You don’t know what happened, only that you somehow got dosed with a powerful aphrodisiac that’s ravaging through your bloodstream. Your pupils are blown wide open, sweat is pouring down your body, and you can feel your pussy almost soaking through your hero suit pants. You know you have to get away, and quick, before anyone discovers your predicament.

And that was when the villain, Dabi, showed up. Whether he planned it or not, you’re unsure. But you do know that he intends to take advantage of it. He’s been following you for a while now, but has made no move to capture you. Atl least not yet. In fact, he seems like he’s having fun chasing the drugged up hero through the streets, and you worry about what that means for your chances of escape.

You know you have to keep moving, find someone who can help you. But as your lower stomach tightens in the most powerful cramp you’ve had yet, you can’t hold back the pained whine that echoes all the way through the tight confines of the alley.

That’s when you hear the laughter of Dabi, who has chosen this moment to catch up with you.

You turn around, fear turning your blood into pure ice as you meet his eyes. He’s smirking at you as he casually leans against a wall, acting for all the world like he hasn’t been chasing you for hours.

You try to shove yourself up from the wall to begin running again, only for Dabi to slam a hand on the wall right beside your head. Your head is spinning so much that you didn’t even see him move towards you.

“Don’t you dare fucking try it. You know you can’t outrun me.” He glances down at the obvious wet spot on your crotch. “Although at this point, you probably don’t even want to, do you?”

He dips his finger into the slick and brings it up to his mouth, staring at you as he licks his finger clean. “You taste so good, sweetheart.”

“Please - just let me go,” you whisper quietly, too afraid to worry about your pride, and your mind too hazy to think of any other way out of this. “I won’t tell anyone about where you are, just please let me go.”

His palm lights up with blue fire as he raises it towards you, and you close your eyes and brace for the burning. But instead, you feel heat pressed against your body and hear the ripping sound of your hero suit being torn down the middle. Your eyes fly open to see that he singed your costume just enough to make it easy to peel you out of it, and he laughs at your shocked gaze.

“You didn’t actually think I was going to let you go, did you? I have you right where I want you.” He shoves you face first against the wall as he plunges two fingers inside of you, grazing a spot against your inner walls that has you instantly cumming around his fingers. Shame makes your face heat up, a tear running down the side of your face that you’re getting off from being violated in a dirty back alley by a villain.

“Such a fucking slut, already cumming from just this.” He adds in a third as your pussy still convulses with your orgasm, your inner walls seeming to suck them even deeper inside of you. “You’re so damned wet that it’s easy to slip right in.”

Your fingers dig hard against the brick wall in an attempt to ground yourself, trying to let the pain distract from the fire burning through you. But it does nothing, and you cum again when he forces a fourth inside of you. The stretch of it burns to the point of pain, but even that feels amazing.

“Too much,” you whine, “it’s too much.”

“Nah, I think you can take more,” he snickers as his thumb ghosts across your entrance. He ignores your whimpers as he pushes his thumb past the tight outer ring of muscles. Your world narrows down to only the feeling of him working his hand inside of you, pain and pleasure all mixing into one and leaving you lightheaded and panting.

You feel so stretched out, so impossibly full, and his hand isn’t even all the way inside of you. This shouldn’t feel good, you think to yourself, you should be horrified. But as his hand slowly disappears inside of you, inch by agonizingly slow inch, you can’t stop yourself from feeling the intense pleasure. You orgasm two more times before his hand is grazing your cervix.

He removes his hand suddenly, and you hear the sounds of clicking. It takes you a second to place the noise, but when you do, you feel yourself go hot with complete and total shame.

“What is it, doll? Don’t like me taking pictures?” He snickers darkly as he pushes his hand back inside of your dripping, aching cunt. “The sight of that gaping little cunt was too much for me to resist.”

Your gasps and whines as he fits his hand back in are embarrassingly loud as they echo through the alley, and you can feel your juices gushing out and dipping to the pavement below. When he straightens his fingers out as he strokes the inner walls of your pussy, your vision goes white as you squirt everywhere, only managing to remain standing by clinging to the wall.

“Fuck yes, doll, god that was so fucking hot,” he praises you as he unzips his pants. “You better be glad you’re so damned wet, because I intend to fuck this little ass of yours too.”

He gathers your slick on his other hand, using it to pump his painfully hard cock as he guides it to the entrance of your asshole. “No no no, please, you can’t, it’s too much,” you beg and plead in sheer panic, but he ignores you completely as he begins to push inside of you.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you babble as you feel his cock stretching out the walls of your ass. You orgasm again as his fist and cock press against each other through the thin barrier of muscles separating them. “So - so full,” you whine as you reach between your legs to continue to stroke your aching clit. Despite how many orgasms you’ve already had, the drug is still raging through your system and you still can’t get enough.

“That drug really is strong, isn’t it? Hahh, fuck, look at how much of a fucking whore you are.” Dabi snorts as he smacks your ass, causing you to clench down and drawing a deep groan from the both of you. “Fist in your pussy, thick cock filling up your ass, and you’re still rubbing that little clit of yours like a bitch in heat.”

His hand thrusts inside of you in time with his cock, and you’re only staying upright because of the wall you’re leaning up against. “Please stop,” you sob to the man ravaging your body, “too much, it’s so - oh fuck!” Your next orgasm rips through you, and it’s almost painful in its sheer intensity.

Dabi increases his pace, balls slamming against your ass with every thrust as his fist continues to work your insides, and he hisses out a curse when he feels you tighten around him again. “Not going to last, holy fuck, this ass feels too fucking good,” he grabs your hip with one hand as he slams balls deep inside of your aching ass, releasing thick ropes of cum.

He fucks you through his orgasm before finally pulling out with a choked gasp when the sensitivity becomes too much, and you glance down to see the mess dripping out of you and coating the pavement. You don’t think you even have the energy to cry, at least until you feel a handcuff going around your wrist and snapping closed against a nearby pipe connected to the wall.

Dabi’s face breaks out into a smirk at your confused face. “Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?”

“No, please don’t leave me like this!” You pull hard at the handcuff, but there’s no give to the metal and it’s cinched too tightly around your wrist to be able to slip out. “Oh fuck, no,” you sob out as you allow your head to fall back against the wall as that terrible, horrible lust is boiling back up, forcing you to rub your thighs together to try and relieve it.

When you open your eyes, Dabi is gone, and you don’t know whether to feel relieved by that or panicked. But then you hear the footsteps approaching where you’re chained, and you feel a hesitant sort of hopefulness that someone is here to rescue you.

That hesitancy goes away completely when you see who it is, and you just know that everything is going to be okay now.

“Are you here to save me?” You whisper quietly as you look up at the winged hero, Hawks with pleading, tear stained eyes. He’s going to save you, you just know it. He’s a hero, right? Of course he would help an innocent civilian after they’ve been violated in a dirty back alley by a villain.

But your heart sinks into your chest, despair filling every fiber of your being as you see Hawks reaching for his pants as the distinct sound of a belt unbuckling echoes through the alleyway.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Tags: @trafalgar-temptress, @thewheezingwyvern, @vixen-scribbles, @ttamaki, @lildreamer93, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash, @chou-maitresse, @shoutogepi, @togasknifes, @kingtamakimurder, @shigaraki-is-my-master, @kittycatkrissa, @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart, @dabilove27, @fae-father, @anxietyplusultra, @flutterfalla, @angmarwitch, @nereida19, @dabis-kitten, @bakugos-cumsock, @yumeneji, 

[junicai]

NCT being whipped for miyazu aria for seven minutes ;

325,078 views • 07 Feb 2021 • uploaded by [haechanieski]

[ NCT 127 Takes a Friendship Test ; Glamour 2020 ]

offscreen: “So, what was your first impression of Aria?” 

Aria pressed herself into Doyoung’s side briefly, muttering a translation of the question into his ear. They had been briefed on the questions beforehand anyway, but she wanted to make sure he understood before he began answering - just in case he had forgotten.

Doyoung tilted his head down to Aria, a mischievous grin making its way onto his face; and it was only then, that Aria remembered exactly how the two had met in the first place. 

Aria started to flush, shaking her head rapidly and burying her face into her hands. “Oh god no,” she whined. 

Doyoung laughed at her, pulling her into his side with an arm over her shoulder and holding her there while he began speaking. 

“Ah, Aria? We met for the first time when Aria was still tiny - well, tinier,” 

“Hey!” 

“And,” Doyoung continued on, laughing, “I had left my jacket in one of the practice rooms. It was a gift from my hyung, so I had gone back to get it even though it was really late. But when I went in to get it, I found Aria, sitting on the floor in the dark with it over her lap instead.” 

At this point, Aria had fully buried her face into Doyoung’s chest, in a futile attempt to hide her reddened cheeks. “I thought it belonged to one of my friends,” she weakly protested, embarrassed by the laughs of the staff members behind the camera. “You scared me when you came in!” 

“You stole my jacket!” 

Aria sent a withering look to the camera. 

“Czennie. Doyoung-oppa doesn’t care if I freeze, I want you to remember this.”

Doyoung gaped at her, yanking her back into his arms with an offended gasp, “Yah, you brat that’s a lie.”

Aria began sliding to the floor, letting her arms go boneless and limp. “You don’t love me!”

Doyoung started to stop with her, trying to hold her up in his arms. “Aria, Aria don’t sit on the floor it’s dirty, get up-”

The music of the other idol groups played quietly through the green room’s speakers, a small television setup in the upper right hand corner allowing the idols inside to monitor the performances outside. 

Renjun tossed a half full water bottle over to Jisung, who was sitting on the floor beside the sofa where Jaemin, Jeno and Aria were; all three of them looking elated yet exhausted. 

Ridin’ was a choreography heavy dance, and although Aria hadn’t many lines in this particular song, she was still struggling to push through the residual pain in her lower back. She had strained it earlier on in the month, pushing herself too far with too little preparation during rehearsals and was paying the price for it.

Most of Aria’s time in the greenroom before their performance was spent ensuring the other boys that yes, she was ok to perform and no, she wasn’t going to sit this one out.

The boys begrudgingly accepted her protests; but that hadnt stopped Jeno ever-so-carefully tugging her onto the sofa once they returned to the greenroom post-performance, gently pushing her to lie her head down on Jaemin’s lap and bringing her legs up into Jeno’s. 

Jisung had wandered over later, eyes stuck to his phone screen but he willingly sacrificed his left hand to hold onto Aria’s when she hissed at the knot Jeno was trying to knead out of her lower back.

Jaemin shushed her softly, running a hand through her hair and untangling strands with his fingers. When Aria’s eyes had clenched shut and a whimper broke out from between her lips, Jeno’s hands froze in their movements, instantly bending closer to whisper apologizes.

“No, no it’s okay,” Aria said, attempting to prop herself up. 

Jaemin pressed her back down, her head staying in his lap. “Stop it, let Nono help.”

She knew that there was something more to say, but having awknowledged that their current circumstances were not the best to have such a discussion, he settled for carding a hand through her hair again. 

Aria let her eyes drift closed, hand still curled in Jisung’s, and legs pillowed in Jeno’s lap. 

Who’s name do you think matches their appearance? 

Kun pressed his lips together, thinking. 

“Hm, all of the members put a lot of thought into their stage names, so they all fit very well,” he hummed, eyes flickering between the paper and the camera. 

He took in a breath, clearly torn. 

“Ah!” he exclaimed, looking up to the camera. “Aria, her name fits her really well; Akari is such a beautiful name and it compliments her personality perfectly. She’s really like a fruit sometimes - she’s always cheerful and energetic, like she’s on a constant sugar rush. Very sweet.” the smile that overtook Kun’s features was nothing sort of soft. 

He quickly scribbled down Aria’s name in Hangul, before rolling the pen into the middle of his palm and straightening up again.

“Yiyang, is her Chinese name - she asked me to give her one last year. And you shouldn’t listen to Winwin, her full name is Qian Qiuyue, ok?”

Kun was laughing at himself now, picking back up the pen and moving to read the next question.

a/n: i know mr qian kun did NOT just say aria was fruity. 

aria nct lgbt sub-unit confirmed

Renjun was sat beside Aria on a single piano stool, shoulders pressed together as she leaned forwards to try and make sense of the notes written on the pages in front of her. 

“You know the basics, right?” Renjun questioned, hand coming out to flip forward in the music book a few pages. The single crotchet notes quickly turned into more complex rhythms, and from the side of his vision he could see Aria paling slightly.

He turned his head to look at her, “Riri, c’mon I know you know more than Mary had a Little Lamb, you can’t stay at beginner level forever.”

“Yes I can.” Aria sulked. 

Renjun sighed. “You were the one who asked me to teach you.” 

“Yes! When I thought it would be easier than this, my fingers just don’t do what they’re meant to do!”

“That’s why I’m here!” Renjun cut off her tirade. “I’m not going to laugh at you if you make mistakes - you’re learning, and everyone makes mistakes when they’re learning.”

“Promise?”

He ruffled her hair slightly, “Promise. Now here, look, this one isn’t difficult you’ll manage this one fine.”

“Injunnie.”

“Mm?”

“-nevermind, okay just. How do I?”

Renjun lifted his hands onto the keys of the piano, showing her the placement of her fingers and getting her to copy him. Aria did so, and then he was running her slowly, step-by-step through the first few bars of the piece, catching her when she played dud notes and clapping softly when she played through without stuttering. 

Soon enough, Aria was playing a simplistic but solid melody line with her right hand, basic accompanying chords with her left, and Renjun was staring at the side of her face; head tilted slightly to the left and a small, barely-there proud glint in his eye. 

 [BUBBLE UPDATE 210205 ]

ARIA~~

czennie

i heard about the tiny horse

do u think they’d let me get one

if i asked nicely??

“Jae, Jae! Jaehyun!” Aria coughed out the older boy’s name, throwing a glare over her shoulder. “If you insist on leaning your entire bodyweight on me, please don’t throttle me in the process.”

The man only sent a weak apologetic grin her way before his feet slid out from underneath him and he was left grappling at the small girl yet again. 

“You know when you said you wanted me to teach you ice-skating I didn’t know this was how you were planning on murdering me. If I have to die, I’d rather go out with a bang - ya’know? Not death by groupmate, that’s borinG-” Aria’s voice wobbled as she was pulled yet again. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Jaehyun apologized, going so far as to take his hands off her shoulders. “I think I’ve got it now.”

He made it another few steps forward before he was tossed off balance by an eight year old boy rushing past, startling him to the point of jumping backwards.

When Jaehyun’s legs went from underneath him, he flailed his arms in a futile attempt to regain his balance - one of the windmilling arms catching Aria’s extended hands in the process. 

Aria let out a shriek as her skates went as well, tumbling backwards. Her head would have made a harsh impact onto the ice - no arms ready to catch her fall - if it wasn’t for Jaehyun’s hand catching the back of her neck and taking the brunt of the impact. 

Lying on the ground, Jaehyun coughed out a laugh, Aria staring him down. 

All too soon though, Aria joined him in the laughter, head still pillowed on Jaehyun’s arm and the pair of them still lying on their backs on the ice.

“Hello everyone, today I’m with my favourite baby, say hi baby!”

Ten’s grin was audible in his words as he spoke to Aria, who waved before opening her mouth. “Your favourite baby?” 

Ten cooed, “Yes, my favourite baby,” while crossing the floor of the practice room to throw his arms around Aria. 

He rocked her side to side, pressing kisses to the top of her head. 

“And what makes me your favourite? You know Yangie won’t be pleased if he hears he’s been replaced,” Aria lifted her head to look up at Ten. 

“You accept the title of my baby, and are therefore my favourite. You don’t fight my love.” Ten shakes her dramatically side to side, mourning the one-sided relationship. 

Aria only patted his head in solace. “It’s ok. If it’s any consolation the only reason I don’t fight your hugs is because you’re faster than I am.”

Ten let out a pained gasp. “Betrayed by both my babies. How ever will I survive!”

Aria tried to pry his arms away from her shoulders that were shaking with barely-suppressed laughter, worming her way out from his embrace. Ten only tightened his hold, going limp and dragging her onto the floor.

“No...” Ten cried, “I’m dying...”

Aria’s laughter turned to shrieks when he began to tickle her stomach on the skin that was showing from where her t-shirt had lifted up from the movement. 

“No no no no stop Ten, TEN stop I’m sorry I take it back I take it baaack-” 

“Say it!” Ten demanded, unrelenting. 

“I’m your baby! I’m your baby I’m sorry I’m sorry!” Aria was rolling away from his hands, trying to escape but Ten only turned to lie flat on top of her. 

“Exactly.”

a/n: nct world 2.0 gave us so much content of the boys loving aria im :’( smth in the water made aria super cuddly this time around i think she’s after all of their hearts 

- aria collecting nct members like pokemon cards

Immediately after Jungwoo’s defeat, Aria sidestepped to behind Lucas where she fisted her hands in his shirt. 

“Aria! You’re next!” The presenter called out, and soon all the members in OFN has turned to face her. 

She poked her head around to see Yuta standing at the arm wrestling table already, tongue between teeth and grinning at her partially hidden form. 

Aria squeaked and ducked back behind Lucas. “Noo,” she moaned, already knowing what was going to happen.

To their credit, Johnny and Jungwoo tried their best to bolster her spirits before she emerged, but Aria still shuffled up to the table with her head tucked down, paying no attention to the calls of support from the boys behind her. 

Yuta rolled his sweater sleeve up again, and Aria looked up to meet his eyes.

“Onii-chan~” she tried, biting her lip to stop the laughter from bursting out. 

Yuta brought a hand up to his mouth before turning away, eyes wide. Aria could hear the cheers of cute! from her teammates behind her; Yuta’s teammates doing their level best to convince him not to cave under Aria’s widened eyes. 

“Onii-chan, you know I’m not very strong,” Aria made sure to heighten her voice’s register a bit, and stuck out her bottom lip, “Can you go easy on me?” 

Aria could hear Mark calling out to Yuta to not fall for it.

“Yah!” Aria dropped her voice back to her normal register, yelling out to Mark. “Stop it this is all I have!” 

The laughter was heard from across the field from the members in the tents, and Aria was left to sadly shuffle her way closer to the table and interlink her hand with Yuta’s. 

He sent her a consoling smile, the referee blew the whistle and then Aria was pushing with all her might against Yuta. Her legs came up like Renjun’s did, face scrunched up with the effort before the back of her hand met the plastic-covered table and Yuta was announced the victor. 

He quickly made his way around the table, wrapping Aria in a hug and picking her up to spin her around. Aria only giggled at him, sticking her tongue out at Ten who called Yuta out for fraternizing with the enemy.

Aria knew that a springboard worked off of your downward momentum, so it seemed perfectly logical to assume that if she barreled her bodyweight into the jump, then she would make it high enough to get over the 200cm vault. 

She’d made it over the previous heights with varying degrees of success, but the new towering height was throwing her off a bit. Cheers came from both her teammates sitting down beside the mat as well as the other members sitting in the shade. 

“Aria! Challenge accepted!” she called out, pumping her fist into the air. 

From the corner of her eye, Aria could see Johnny leaning forward with his hands on his knees, watching carefully as she ran up to the springboard. Lucas was in a similar position, was it not for the wide grin he sported.

Beginning her run she tried to use up as much speed as possible, sprinting to the vault before jumping with her feet together onto the springboard and allowing it to propel her up and over the vault.

However what she had failed to account for; was the length of her arms. 

Aria made it over the 190cm vault, but her fingertips barely scraped the top and it left her with a choice of either trying to become Superman and face-planting into the mat on the other side, or bringing her legs together prematurely and hope she didn’t lose a leg. 

She couldn’t hear the gasps that left everyone’s mouth once her hands missed the top of the vault, missing the way Lucas moved closer to the mat with a jerk forward. 

Bringing her legs closed, Aria swung her bodyweight forward and grappled behind her for the vault in a panic. A yelp left her mouth as her hand caught on the rung and she tucked it back into her body when her feet met the edge of the mat.

Unstable, Aria toppled backwards with her hands stretching out behind her again to prevent herself from falling. Her back landed against the vault, and she knocked it over, falling on top of the now-split pieces. 

Despite it all, Aria was laughing hysterically, hands coming up to cover her face as she tried to hide her flaming red cheeks. An arm extended to her and she hoisted herself out of the middle of the vault, soon coming to rub at her back.

“Does that count?” Aria could hear the presenters asking should she be disqualified for knocking over the vault even after landing, but she was more concentrated on the hand on her back that was guiding her to her other teammates, all clapping wilding and cheering. 

“You okay?” Lucas’ voice came in her ear, laughter but also concern audible in his tone. His hand was still rubbing slowly along her back, soothing the reddened skin underneath the t-shirt she was wearing. 

“Yeah I’m fine,” Aria let her head fall forwards as she laughed at the thought of the picture she must have looked, flailing as she barely made it over the vault. “I don’t know if I’ll make it over the next one though.”

“Ah it’s okay. I’ll knock it over too and then I can join you.”

The gate at the back end of the tunnel swung closed with a clang, everyone inside letting out a shout. 

Aria, having been standing in front of Johnny, tucked inside his coat while he back hugged her (she wasn’t built for the cold weather, and the denim jacket she wore was doing nothing to save her from hypothermia) let out a yelp and turned her face into Johnny’s chest.

Johnny pushed her behind him slightly as he turned around to look what had happened, and Aria clung to his waist while the others around them furrowed their eyebrows in confusion. 

Trapped?

a/n: and a bonus clip bc shes was so CUTE during mtopia i couldnt not 

In the emptied dining room, the SuperM members scattered around the different table set ups, searching for the coloured pieces of paper. Taeyong had wandered over to the food counter, while Ten had migrated towards the opposite end of the hall.

Baekhyun could see the other members in various locations; all apart from one. 

“Oh? Aria, where did you go?” 

The youngest member was no where to be found, and Baekhyun’s question gathered the attention of Taemin and Mark who were standing nearby. Mark tilted his head in a question, eyebrows lifted and then furrowed when he too looked around for the girl and couldn’t find her.

“I’m here!”

Baekhyun let out a small scream, jumping back from the table he was standing beside.

Beneath the tablecloth poked out Aria’s head, a sheepish smile on her face when she realized she’d scared her leader. 

“I thought there might be some clues underneath, so I wanted to check.” she explained, slowly shuffling out from underneath the table. 

“Baekhyun hyung did she scare you?” Jongin teased, as Taemin cooed over the adorable picture Aria made as she straightened up and brushed off the dust from her skirt. 

Baekhyun floundered, spluttering “What? No! I don’t get scared.” 

He puffed out his chest theatrically.

“Sorry oppa, I didn’t mean to scare you~” Aria said through suppressed laughter, coming over to hug him around the waist.

Baekhyun deflated slighty, “Ah, it’s okay,” he grumbled, petting her hair. 

thank you for watching ! - haechanieski

[liquid-luck-00]

My Life is One Complication After Another 3

Cursing Ahead 🤬

Ao3 *** First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since Mari's classmates stopped talking with her, they also stopped asking her for favors. Along with a blocked and rotating schedule for patrols meant that she actually had a sleep schedule. Sure she didn't get nearly enough but that was what coffee is for.

That was how she found herself down in the bakery with her papa. Roy had called her and the four of them talked and it was comfortable. Mari was the one who opened and was watching the front. She was still talking with Roy, but now it was on a headset, as he was out patrolling In Starling City.

"So as I was saying before we were oh so rudely interrupted." came Roy's voice in her ear. "So Ice cream and movies?"

A soft laughter escaped her and a smile on her lips.

"Sounds gre..." the bell at the door chimed. "Hey guys come in," she greeted the Waynes.

"Let me guess the bats?" Roy supplied as Dick bounced towards the counter.

"Good morning Marinette!" Dick practically sang loud enough for even Roy to hear.

"God how the hell is he so chipper so early." she heard Roy grumble.

"God damn morning people," she grumbled. That elicited laughter from both Roy and Jason.

"Amen to that!" Tim seconded in a monotone lifting a coffee cup. "Maman I'm going to take the Waynes up." she called poking her head into the kitchen. Her Maman nodded so she picked up her phone and walked towards them.

"I'll Let you go," Roy was about to hang up.

"Wait how about we give the Bats a heart attack." she smirked changing to the ancient language of miracles.

"I like the way you think, I'll catch you later." he responded in the same tongue.

"See ya then." she smiled, switching back the language. Ending the call and removing the ear piece. “Are you guys coming or do I have to drag you guys?" she turned back already at the door. Granted most of them showed confused faces and side eyes, but she smiled. They followed her without saying a word.

Once they were in the apartment she excused herself to change into more appropriate gear. She activated Kaalki’s miraculous, who then silently portaled out.

That being said she changed into a pair of black skinny cargo pants with red combat boots. A black long sleeve shirt under a cropped red sleeveless hoodie. Her hair was half down with red and pink streaks and a mini white gold backpack with three patches in the same white gold finished her outfit. She grabbed four parcels and went down.

"So we can either do the boring ground tour or," she held up the bundles. "we can turn up the speed."

"I like the way you think Pixie Pop." Jason stood and she handed him his.

"Roy sent me you guy's sizes, so I altered and customized a few things." she smiled. "bathroom is over there and the guest room is next to it." Dick looked torn between excited and horrified when handed his stack.

Tim seemed awake, but she knew better, "go change and I'll have a fresh pot of coffee ready." He nodded robotically as he got up.

She set the last bunch next to Damian, who was looking like an angry kitten. She sat down next to him and leaned in.

"What are you.." he started but Mari whispered in his ear.

"The jacket has a hidden sling for a katana, which will be practically invisible when on." His eyes widened slightly and there was a bit of slack in his jaw now. Before turning into an amused smirk. "Use my room up the stairs and through the hatch." she finished as he headed up the stairs.

"I'm impressed he let you close without struggling," Bruce broke his silence, as she finished prepping the coffee maker.

"Well he would have if," she began as Damian practically crashed down the stairs and all but tackled Bruce before rushing out the door. The closest she had ever seen her baby brother smile, which effectively made her smile.

"Holy crap! What are you?!" Dick made himself known.

"More importantly what the fuck did you do with Demon spawn!" Jason shouted from next to Tim, who was being propped up by both Jason and Dick.

"Tt. I am right here Todd." The scowl reappearing on his features. "It is adequate Dupain-Cheng."

"I'll take it as a compliment on one condition."

"And that is?" he rose a brow.

"You call me Marinette not Dupain-Cheng. I'm your sister aren't I?"

He seemed to war with himself for a moment before stating. "That is acceptable, Marinette."

At this point all the bats in the room were playing a game of ping-pong between Marinette and Damian. They were trying to figure out what magic spell Marinette must have used, when in reality she just seemed to fall into Damian’s good graces automatically. OK so maybe Marinette being the holder of the ladybug miraculous as well as being the great guardian of the order has that affect on most people, a sense of respect and trust that seems to permeate her aura.

She was handing Tim a huge mug as the front door swung open to reveal her Maman.

"Hello Bruce," Sabine greeted.

"It is good to see you Sabine," was his response.

“Maman," Mari pulled her mother's attention from her biological father. "These are Bruce's boys and my brothers. Tim, Jason, Dick, and Damian." she motioned to each one respectively.

"It's nice to meet all of you." Sabine smiled, "why don't all of you get something from the bakery before you go."

After finishing their small breakfast in the park Mari pulled out a map and a marker.

"So what do you guys want to see?" They listed off places that she marked down. She added a few to the list to fill it out, marked the route and took a picture and sent it to Roy. "Okay so this will work." she glanced at her phone. A quick look on social media showed no one has found Andre yet. She pulled out a case of comms and added, "Also keep your eyes out for Andre."

"Who is that?" Dick asked taking the earpiece.

"Andre's Ice cream cart, the best ice cream in Paris." Marinette answered.

"Then why must we look for him?" Damian added.

"Well he changes locations daily and turns it into a game of tag of sorts."

"Alright, lead the way Pixie." with a smirk she dashed off her brothers close on her heels.

Yes this is the best way to get to see the city, but this was also a test to see how the bats did without their toys.

Getting to Notre Dame was uneventful. Dick kept up a steady conversation with her, just a step behind with Damian, Jason brought up the rear but would constantly toss in quips and questions. Damian and Tim were mostly quiet, unless they were trying to get one of their brothers to stop a particularly embarrassing story.

Getting to the Louve was even more entertaining. Now that Dick had a feel for the Parisian roofs he would do flips and vaults to make her laugh. In the Louve is another story.

They had accidentally ran into some of her classmates, quite literally. She and her brothers were taking goofy 'walk like an Egyptian' group photos on the second floor of the Egyptian exhibit, the mini Ladybug camera was reattaching to her phone charm when Tim began asking her questions about it.

"Well my best friend loves anime, and we kinda sorta binged the entire Dragon Ball series and when we saw the ladybug camera. He said it would be impossible to create and maintain the quality of the image. So I kinda sorta made it out of spite." she mumbled the end.

"Hell if you weren't my sister I would beg Bruce to adopt you," Tim stated. "Do you have the files I would love to look through them. Maybe send them to Babs or Cy!"

"Sure I think I have it on a flash drive." That was when a tall body, walking backwards slammed into her, pushing her into Jason. "oof."

"You okay." Dick was in full mama hen mode fretting over her.

"I wasn't watching where I was going." the figure spoke as he turned around. "I'm sor." the words died on his tongue, Kim.

Max, Alix, Nino, Alya, and oh kwami no Lila, who were now all snickering.

"I'm fine Dick," she smiled to reassure him. However her classmates were shocked.

Lila of course was the one who broke the silence, by beginning to cry. "I'm so sorry about her. I know she hates me but to be so rude to a complete stranger!" her sobs breaking the sentence while her lackeys went to console her, glaring daggers at Marinette.

"Seriously girl," Alya began to scold her. "Your little out burst not only made Lila cry. Your insulting someone who is just trying to be nice."

She and her brothers were now standing awkwardly being scolded by a teenager. After three minutes of trying to figure out what they were being scolded for and why the guys hadn't apparently left.

"What the fuck did she do that your yelling at her for?" Jason finally broke Alya's rant. Now it was the five Parisians and the Italian to stand there confused.

"She called him a dick," Alya sighed exasperated.

"Yes." Dick answered confusing them further.

"Dick."Tim now called.

"What?!"

"Dick!!" Damian, Marinette, Tim, and Jason all called, and immediately began laughing.

"What? Oh, oh," a sheepish smile now on his face. “Names Richard but I go by Dick,” he explained to those who weren’t laughing, smiling at them.

"Tt. this is why I call you Grayson." Damian rolled his eyes. "Besides this one still has not apologized." he jabbed a finger to Kim.

"It's not worth it Damian,” Marinette shook her head. "We should head back to the bakery anyways. Maman has probably finished scolding Bruce." she smirked.

"Damn I wish I was a fly on the wall for that conversation" Jason lamented.

"Well..." she held up the ladybug charm and flipped it over showing an empty space.

"Two!" Tim shouted.

"Anyone who beats me back gets a copy," she smiled.

"Your on." Jason nodded as he vaulted over the safety wall from the second floor. Damian and Dick sprinted in opposite directions.

"Sorry Mars your gonna loose." Tim shouted as the last to leave.

"We'll see," she shot back. "Bye," She turned to her classmates as she grabbed the railing above and flipped up and over to the third floor, running to one of the secret zip lines the miraculous team set up.

"What the fuck" was faintly heard behind her, all but Lila and Max shouted by the sounds of it, as she jumped from the window.

She made up quite a bit of distance and seemed to be on Damian's heel. She had passed Tim and Dick was a few steps behind. Jason was just out of arm reach. So with a burst of speed both she and Damian were shoulder to shoulder with Jason.

The three of them simultaneously practically crashed into the side door of the bakery.

"I won."

"In your dreams Todd."

"I beat both you and Pixie"

"Check your eyes, or do you need the camera installed in your helmet." Jason's gaze hardened at Damian's words.

"How about we call it a three way tie and you both get a copy." Mari interrupted. "We should head up." Laughing Marinette opened the door and went up.

Lunch was rambunctious, but she was coming to expect that with her brothers.

“Too bad we couldn’t find that ice cream guy Mari,” Tim spoke up once everyone had finished eating.

“Oh let’s see if anyone has posted where he’s at today!” She went to check her phone but a message ended up distracting her.

Andres in your favorite spot I’ll meet you there at 7 your time.

"Cool he’ s in my favorite spot in all of Paris which just happens to be the last spot on our list today," she announced, sending off a text, setting her phone down, screen up.

Can't wait Katniss

"Why don’t you all go and Mari can get to know Bruce," Sabine offered.

OK granted it’s a good idea, maybe I should get to know my biological father but am I ready to? Do I want to? Am I yes, yes I want to get to know my biological father, yes I want my family to grow, my brothers are such protective goofballs and I love them already.

"Sounds good," she smiled.

That was when her phone lit up from a message. She went to pick it up, but she was to slow.

Jason was the one who snacked her phone. "Message from Katniss says see ya then Peeta. So who's Katniss Pixie."

"Well..." she started but she began to blush furiously.

"That would be her boyfriend," her Maman decided to add before heading back down to the bakery with Papa.

Dick pounced asking a million and one questions, Bruce physically froze but she could tell his mind was racing because that look was much the same as hers. Jason was pensive, while Tim and Damian just seemed bored or tired.

So that was how she found herself talking about Roy, blushing furiously. While simultaneously avoiding his name and details that would tip any of them off. After about a half hour of her answering questions did Dick start telling her about his fiancée. How they were planning on setting a date for the wedding.

After that the next few hows was spent sharing stories and tidbits of themselves.

However, thanks to Dick a design was swimming in her mind. so she did the only logical thing and ran up to her room. Grabbed three drives, her tablet and pen and ran back down. She tossed the red drive to Tim, and Jason and Damian each a black drive. Plopped down and began stretching out an Italian suit with a nock lapel. A rough coloration of a midnight blue offset by a sapphire. Accents of golden thread, emerald buttons and an Osiria rose in the lapel. She signed the design 'Mira Luck' and handed Dick the tablet.

"So I couldn't help myself," she begun to fidget. "But in my defense you told a designer about a wedding and my brain wouldn't stop screaming at me until this was on something. So what do you think? I know its rough but."

"Holy Shit your Mira Luck as in M, Jagged Stones personal designer. You are M as in the designer for the Lucky Spot!!" Tim screamed lunging to take the tablet from Dick.

"That's me," a blindingly bright smile lit up her features.

"So what do you think?" she asked again.

"It's amazing we were actually hoping to talk to you about Kori’s dress." Dick smiled. "I could call her it's not too late there."

"Perhaps it would be best to discuss it in person when Marinette next goes, that way she can get to know Gotham." Bruce interjected.

"That actually might be sooner than you think," she responded.

"I was actually accepted to be an exchange student for the next semester at Gotham Academy."

"Wait you’re willing we going to Gotham to study! You ’re going to Gotham willingly. Bruce I think your daughter might be a little crazy." Jason surprisingly brought up.

"I might be but but it’s no crazier than Paris and it’s a Akumas. Besides I would love to design your fiancée’s dress and we should head over to Andre’s ice cream before the sunsets that way we can watch the lighting of the Eiffel tower." She got up and called out. "Hey Jason mind passing me my backpack."

"Yeah sure," he went around he couch to grab it and toss it to her but before he did he finally seemed to notice the patches. "Wait are these The Outlaws."

"Yeah Red Hood, Arsenal, Star Fire, and Bizarro." she was smiling.

"Why choose The Outlaws?" Tim brought up.

"Honestly it was because Roy mentioned something about Arsenal and Red Hood and I ended up liking of the logos, so I made them into the backpack," she shrugged. "Besides unless you’re looking at it close enough you can’t tell which is always fun to see if people pay attention to it, let’s go."

At that the six of them walked out of the apartment, away from the bakery towards the Palais de Chaillot.

"So what's so special about Andre's Ice cream?" B asked.

"Personally I think he is a meta. But what he does is he can either see your true reflection or that of the person best suited to you."

"So he sees souls?" Tim added.

"Not quite, more like he sees the main qualities of you or your go." she tapped her chin.

"But he is meta,” Tim tried to figure.

"That's the only explanation I can come up with but I have no idea." Marinette shrugged.

"So how does he do it." Tim was now fully invested in this.

"Well you either ask for love or self and he usually does three to four ice cream flavors and gives a short reason."

They were now at the top of the stairs at the Palais de Chaillot looking out at the Eiffel Tower. They stood there as the last of the light faded from the sky. The city was dark for a moment as the Eiffel Tower lit up and slowly the lamps lit up.

"So that's why this is your favorite spot Minnie." A voice behind her chuckled. She turned around and nearly tackled him.

"Hey speedy." she pecked his cheek.

Not a second later did Jason scream, "Roy!"

"Ready for that movie?” Roy asked her an arm around her shoulders.

"Of course," she smiled. "See you guys around."

"What the fuck are you doing in Paris Roy!?" Jason screamed.

"Um... Date night," he answered. The Waynes were now practically surrounding the couple.

"What?" Apparently it was Dick's turn to yell.

"Seriously. I thought you said the bats and birds were detectives." she spoke just loud enough for them to hear. "It's kinda hard to believe with the big bat having a heart attack over there." Sure enough Bruce was seriously hyperventilating.

"Oh mind giving this to LB?" He handed her a small nondescript red box.

"Sure," Marinette took the box, "Au Revoir."

From there they left and oh kwamii did she wish she could replay that again, oh wait I can.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

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[phynali]

Dean’s Body as a Punching Bag

Ever since I made this post about Sam and (his lack of) bodily autonomy (as well as the follow-up post that carries the theme through the other 10 seasons), I’ve been trying to determine what the corollary for Dean is. Re-watching 5x01 made it jump out at me in a huge way:

The bodies of the people that Dean loves are consistently used in a way that hurts/harms Dean and metes out violence against him. And it is specifically his loved ones’ bodies themselves, not shapeshifters or lookalikes or Leviathan either. It is the people he loves’ hands and fists and weapons.

(I need a snappier way to word that, but bear with me).

Where Sam’s bodily autonomy violations occur before he’s born, and are seen as early as the pilot with Azazel in his room and with the Woman in White, Dean’s analogous theme doesn’t sneak in until the mid-season finale with Asylum.

In this episode, Sam gets infected with a sort of ghost-possession/ghost-sickness (another example of a violation of his bodily autonomy) and his internal anger becomes external, focused on Dean. Sam attacks Dean violently, and Dean goes so far as to hand over a (thankfully unloaded) gun and in this altered state, Sam actually tries to shoot him. 

Ouch. The person Dean loves and most wants to protect had his body violated and used against Dean. This theme is going to carry us through the next, eh, 10 or so seasons, with some tail-end examples even after that. 

In Season 1 we have Asylum mid-season, and we have the finale in which John is possessed by Azazel and hurts Dean most grievously, almost kills him. In Season 2, Sam is possessed by Meg and shoots Dean (in the arm). In Season 3, we had a writers’ strike and a season cut short so I can’t think of any examples there (but lots of other shit to unpack for another day).

The in Season 4, we have Sex and Violence, which is super interesting. While Dean is the one targeted by the siren and therefore the one whose body is used against his brother to hurt him, the actual violence doesn’t start until Sam is also infected. Sam’s body is violated by being held at knifepoint by his brother and his mouth forced open to accept the siren’s venom, but then it’s a fist-fight, a showdown. Both brothers’ bodies being used to hurt the other, but getting to that point required Sam’s body to similarly be ready to be used against Dean.

Season 5 is literally bookended by instances of this happening. First, true to the idea that Dean sees Bobby as family, Bobby becomes possessed by a demon and he violently attacks Dean. And then Swan Song, most famous example by a huge margin, Sam is possessed by Lucifer and is fist-fighting Dean, destroying his face and killing him with his fists, and it is his overwhelming love for Dean that allows him to overcome this possession and save the world.

The theme is carried forward for a few more seasons, pretty much until that narrative turning point in Season 10 that I mentioned in my post about Sam. In Season 6, soulless!Sam allows Dean to be hurt by a monster, harming him by proxy. In season 7, Sam is hallucinating and almost shoots Dean. In season 8, Cass is programmed by Naomi to kill Dean, and in the episode Goodbye Stranger beats him to a pulp before overcoming this programming. In season 9, when Gadreel reveals himself and takes over Sam’s body and kills Kevin, he also attacks Dean. 

Skipping Season 10 for a hot sec (more on that below), Lucifer also later possesses Cass in Season 11 and harms both Sam and Dean. In Season 12, we get brainwashed Mary attacking her sons (and overcoming possession thanks to Dean). And possibly examples from S13-15 that I’m missing (Garth being affected by Michael? Cass being affected by Rowena’s spell? Both Sam and Dean were affected by the Witch from Wizard of Oz, right? I honestly can’t recall the late seasons near so well). But regardless we see the theme play out in the final 5 seasons, just less and a bit different than it had prior. 

-

Now, let’s unpack the S10 shift a bit, and why it changes things for this theme of Dean’s.

In S9, Dean takes on the Mark of Cain under the weight of guilt and self-loathing from having violated Sam’s bodily autonomy by tricking him into being possessed by an angel (and forcibly having him possessed by a demon to then fix that angelic possession). In this instance, Dean is willfully taking on something that alters his own body, and the narrative between he and Sam is flipped. Now Dean is the one with something ‘evil’ marring his body and impacting it outside his control, and now Sam is the one who is ignoring Dean’s protests and autonomy in order to save him from this thing, consequences be damned.

That 2.5 season role-reversal arc was huge for how it changed Sam’s storyline for the final 5 seasons, and similarly huge for how it impacts Dean’s.

Dean is now the one whose body is being used as a weapon against those he loves most, and he is the one suffering that loss of autonomy and control over himself. He is sick with bloodlust, is turned into a demon, is drawn to the First Blade, and is not in full control of himself. When the Darkness is unleashed and Dean suffers the emotional consequences of feeling tied to and drawn to this monster (woman? celestial being? godlike person?) against his will. 

The Mark/Darkness narrative shows us that Dean’s body might belong to him, but it too can be corrupted against his will. Dean learns that he won’t always be able to choose, learns what it means not to have control over his own body. That while he puts his family as his duty above all else, while he would sacrifice literally everything (his body, his soul, the entire universe) for his little brother, the opposite might also be true, even if Dean doesn’t want it to be. 

(And I said elsewhere that I fundamentally believe this narrative role-reversal was a consequence of him overstepping his ownership over Sam by tricking him into taking Gadreel. Their positions are swapped because they have to be, because narratively it becomes necessary for Dean to know what this loss of autonomy feels like, and for Sam to override his brother’s choices, or else they may never find a sense of equilibrium again).

By the time this Mark/Darkness narrative wraps up, Dean is fundamentally, irrevocably changed. Where in Season 5 it was completely unthinkable that he would agree to be a vessel for Michael, it is in the finale of Season 13, just two seasons after the Darkness storyline wraps up, that we see him take Michael into himself as a snap, in-the-moment decision. What was previously unthinkable is now canon. 

Because Dean is now different. Because his core of protecting Sam is the same, but his theme of how others' bodies are used against him has now upended itself, and he now has had his body used against others.

In my post about Sam, I said that in the end for the final seasons, the narrative has shifted from Dean owning Sam’s body to Sam also owning his own, and them acknowledging that they are in this together as a result of Season 10. I believe that happens with Dean as well, owing to this reversal. Sam has now taken some ownership over Dean’s body by getting rid of the Mark, and Dean has relinquished some of his tight-fisted control over himself. 

So Sam is sharing ownership over his body with Dean (in the vein of “I can’t pretend you won’t do whatever you can to keep me alive, even if I don’t want it, but we’re in this together” and “if we die we do that together too”), and Dean is also sharing ownership over his body with Sam (in the vein of “I’m no longer convinced you’re going to abandon me, so the things that I will do to keep you by my side will be met equal between us” and “when it comes to keeping you safe, it’s my autonomy I will give up first, not yours”). 

-

But what does this particular form of bodily-violence-from-family say about Dean from a thematic standpoint?

In my post about Sam, I talked about how the themes of possession (ghost and demon) and demon blood are inherently about bodily autonomy and free will. 

For Dean, thinking through this theme of his loved ones being used to hurt him, I’m torn trying to find the way to word it, but I feel that it has to do with his themes of self-effacement as love, as protection and duty. It’s about being willing to suffer anything (even to the point of death) to protect his family, the ones he loves most. Family is the end-all-be-all to Dean, and protecting his family (most especially his little brother) is the core and heart of his character. It is a duty and a responsibility and a calling and a purpose. 

To remix a quote from the film Legend, Dean’s devotion to his brother (and to a lesser extent, to everyone else he calls family) is how he measures himself. There’s no single word for it, as it’s a mix of protection as love, as an instinct, but also as a fundamental duty, an identity. His internal compass.

So Dean’s narrative invokes free will in a very different way than Sam’s. Dean always had and has free will. He had the will to sell his soul, the will to refuse Michael. He has autonomy over his body and he has choice, so much so that he makes choices over and over for Sam. Instead, Dean’s struggles with autonomy of self as related to his constant effacement (to the point of complete ego-destruction and physical loss of self) for the people he loves. He will die, sell his soul, let himself be beat to a pulp, and anything more that the situation calls for, so long as it means protecting or not harming his loved ones.

The original Swan Song end is a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions, in the style of Greek tragedy. Sam’s struggle for autonomy, and the moment he claims that autonomy for himself, he falls into the Pit for eternity. Dean’s original intended Swan Song ending is analogous: a struggle to exist as more than his duty to his family, and right after he accepts that Sam is allowed to choose Lucifer and death for himself while Dean may continue on living, he then chooses to fall into the Pit after his brother so they could be together (in Hell, in the Cage) eternally.

Both of them have these absolute tragic flaws and in the first Kripke-era arc, tragic sacrificial ends. Sam’s relating to will and autonomy, Dean’s relating to love, family and protection/duty. Both of them belonging to themselves and to each other.

-

-

A few extra things about this theme worth noting:

1. the people who love Dean are always in an altered state when they harm him, whether it be possession, brain-washing, siren venom, soulless, etc etc, which I think goes to show in some ways how this love as a given to people who will never deliberately harm him.

2. in a huge proportion of these instances, Dean is saved by the person who loves him reclaiming themselves over and above their altered state. John overcomes Azazel’s possession (arguably, I would say, deliberately from Azazel, but let’s not quibble). Bobby stabs himself in the stomach to save Dean. Cass overcomes Naomi’s brainwashing. Sam overcomes the literal Devil possessing him. Mary overcomes some brainwashing (I think?). Etc. So Dean's love as sacrifice is rewarded?

3. Sam’s body is the most frequently used to harm Dean.

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Blank Spots [17] PAIRING: (Somewhat pre-established) Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader, could be seen as an OC. REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: After waking up at the base of a steep incline and nearly freezing to death, you stumble upon a group of strangers who swear up and down that they know you. WARNINGS: Some creative license for amnesia, violence, angst. Micah. NOTE: Here is the next chapter to this! Thank you all for your patience, life has picked up again but I did want to get another part of this out. There’s some canon dialogue in here near the end, but I hope there’s enough original content around it that it’s not too boring.   TAG LIST: @on-my-way-to-erebor / @otherthingstoreid @ireallyhonestlydontcare @elanisha @darlingsdevil @cirillamylove @bunnyreese12 @rollyjogerjones @callmemythicalminx @r4reland @itsnothingwithoutchaos

What the hell were you going to do now?

The question plagued you for a couple days since that terrible sleep, a part of you liking to doubt what you thought you knew about it by calling it a dream, yet there was also a part of you that felt like it was more than that. It was wholly indecisive, a war that went back in your head for the last couple days. Chores had become all the more monotonous and you wondered what you were doing with yourself very often. 

You knew that you wanted to tell someone, yet you knew that doing so wasn’t as simple as it seemed. You knew you had fallen, suffered a terrible injury that took your strength and memories away. It nearly left you freezing to death, and you had a solid idea that Micah had been the one to put you in that situation. 

However, how would you make them believe you? 

You weren’t completely unobservant to the goings-on in camp, you knew Dutch liked Micah for some reason. It was hard to find something to like about the man, from what you had seen of him. Really, you had elected to avoid him where possible. Yet, you knew it would eventually grow hard to keep doing so. If you had to interact with that memory sitting in your head…

What if you were wrong? You knew you had a hard time trusting your own mind lately, yet...something about what you remembered happening didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t seem like something you had just made up. It had sat, lingering on the edge of remembrance and you didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

You just didn’t want to be dismissed. You didn’t want to stay in a camp with the person who had tried to murder you. 

“How’re you holdin’ up?” 

The familiar voice startled you out of your thoughts, turning your head sharply with wide eyes. Arthur stood somewhat awkwardly, his brow tightening somewhat as he seemed to take in your expression from where you were sitting. You let out a small breath, turning your head to look back out toward the water. 

“As well as I can be, I guess.” 

“Mary-Beth’s concerned, said she noticed a change in you,” he commented, “asked me to check in. Guess I wanted to, too.” 

“Oh.” You hadn’t thought you had been that obvious, yet...well, with everything sitting on your mind, you had found it very easily to slip into the mess that was there lately. 

“I know I’m the last person you want to be talkin’ to right now, but we do gotta talk,” he said after a moment, your ears picking up on him approaching where you were sat near the shore by camp. 

It was true, you hadn’t really been wanting to talk to him lately. Yet, on top of everything, you had almost let that settle into the back of your mind. 

Still, you couldn’t find it in yourself at the moment to protest his presence, Arthur moving around to sit down on the same log as you. He let out a small sigh, letting a silence linger for a few moments as you waited for him to say what he needed to. Back when you had first lost your memories and learned that you had been romantically involved with him, you had thought things couldn’t get any more awkward and confusing as that. 

Yet, sitting with him in the moment, you wanted nothing more than to cave into yourself from the stress of it all. As much as what you remembered about Micah on that mountain dominated your thoughts, the other parts of the memory hadn’t left you either. That genuine guilt over leaving someone you cared about behind, possibly to die. There had been that specific affection you held for him, the frustration at not being able to say what you truly felt about him. 

That person and the person sitting on the log with him in the moment felt like two different people. Yet, you somehow had to try to merge those experiences into your current. 

It felt like trying to shove your shoulder through a brick wall at points. 

“I’m sorry…” Arthur started after a moment, his voice surprisingly quiet from how it had been a few moments ago, “For what I did to your family, for doin’ that while I knew you was tryin’ to pay their debt.” 

“I know you are, Arthur,” you replied, “Yet, that doesn’t change what happened.” 

“No, it don’t. I wasn’t hopin’ it would,” he replied around a sigh, “You can hate me all you want for that, I deserve it. Yet...I-I don’t feel like I got much power here.” 

You lifted your gaze toward him at the tone in his voice, as much as you had been struggling to do so since he sat down. There was a certain frustration sitting there, a desperation, that you hadn’t heard from him before. Arthur didn’t meet your gaze, letting out a slow breath as he seemed to be collecting his words. 

“I don’t wanna make this ‘bout myself, but I hate doin’ that type of work,” he continued, “When I first joined this gang, I had always been told we was not goin’ to rob folk who don’t need to be robbed. Rich folk, other gangs, but...these people? They’re just tryin’ to get by and I know that. Yet...I’m good at intimidatin’, I’m good at violence.” 

“That’s not all you have to be,” you stated, “I...when I woke up...I had thought that I had stepped into a group of violent murderers, and I’m not so blind to think you’re not violent and people don’t die, but...it’s more complicated than that. You’ve shown me a kindness, an understanding. I guess...maybe I did forget about what goes on around here a little bit, but I had thought that…” 

You had thought you were closer than what happened, that it would have had him standing up a bit for you. Or, at least, your motives. 

“...You ever try to stop collecting debts if you hate it so much?” you asked after your pause, meeting his gaze for a few moments before he dropped it somewhat in thought. 

“I...the way things is right now, I ain’t sure I can,” he replied, “If it was just Strauss forcin’ me, I would’ve stopped a while ago. Yet, Dutch has turned it into a reliable source of money. It goes against everything he stands for, even says that sometimes, but he ain’t cut it out.” 

“Why doesn’t he?”

Arthur let out a soft scoff, “I dunno, might be somethin’ to ask him if he’ll hear it these days.”

That...didn’t sound good. Even Arthur’s facial expression tightened somewhat at the words that had just left his mouth, yet he didn’t say anything else for a few moments before he shook his head, glancing back toward you. 

“I’m tryin’ to hold things together. Feels like I’m holdin’ most of the weight of that, sometimes, and...I dunno, guess I felt like I had no alternative in that situation. Dutch thinks we got somethin’ here between these two families, might get us out of this mess. Next list of debtors I get...I dunno, I’ll think ‘bout if we really need that type of money.” 

“...Sure.” The word left your mouth somewhat resigned. You knew deep down that you couldn’t force him to do anything, and even if it did stop...well, the damage was done. Yet, you had to admit that this conversation felt a little more productive than the one you had with him right after the fact. 

“Arthur…” you started after a moment, “I...I can’t say I forgive you for what you did to my aunt and uncle. I...I guess I understand why you felt like you needed to, but...I don’t know. I still need time with this. After...I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. I appreciate you approaching me about it again, but I need more time with it.” 

“I understand,” he replied with a nod, “I ain’t expectin’ your forgiveness. I care ‘bout you--a lot--but I know it ain’t that simple.” 

“It’s really not.” God, you wanted to tell him about the mountain. Out of everybody, you knew he was the most likely to believe you, yet you found it sitting behind your teeth instead. 

You needed to be sure.

“Just…” Arthur started after a moment, raising from where he was seated, “if you need anythin’...” 

You could appreciate the offer, yet you knew for the time being it would be torn between just wanting to go back to how things were before all of this and not wanting to ask him for anything. Yet, you knew that there was no changing anything about what happened. It was just a matter on how you wanted things to be moving forward. At the moment, you really weren’t too sure what to say to that. 

Instead, you just gave him a nod, letting him walk off after as you let out a sigh through your nose. Despite everything sitting on your mind, at least talking about one of those things left you feeling like you weren’t as stuck. 

You just had some decisions to make. 

                                                                ***

A couple days had passed since your conversation with Arthur. You could still feel the weight of everything you had talked about, everything said and unsaid, yet you tried to pick yourself back up a bit. There was the issue of Micah, of course, but you figured you would get a chance to sort that out with some more thought. 

You tried to put some more work in around camp, making sure to give Mary-Beth a light pat on the back shortly after and to thank her for the concern. She had sheepishly admitted to asking Arthur to check on you, yet you couldn’t really bring yourself to blame her. 

Though, you tried to let things settle in your mind a bit, yet it didn’t seem like much had settled in camp before it seemed like another big event was going to take place. 

Really, you hadn’t meant to listen in on the conversation. Yet, with it happening in the middle of camp, it was hard to miss as you lingered somewhat near one of the tents as you heard Dutch greet Micah, Arthur, and Pearson as he approached. Pearson’s voice seemed to catch your ear. 

“It’s peace, Dutch. With the O’Driscolls,” he stated as the gang’s leader stepped into the tent behind him, “I mean, I think there’s a way.” 

“What on earth are you talkin’ about?” Dutch asked. 

“Get the words out properly, fat man…” Micah prompted with a slight wave of his hand. 

Pearson seemed to launch into a bit of a story about meeting some men in a saloon, mentioning something about tigers. You had wandered closer, not too sure what was happening but Micah seemed to be at the head of it and you couldn’t help but want to listen in. Still, you managed to remain far enough away to not cause them to catch you. 

“They suggested a parlay,” Pearson concluded, “to end things like gentlemen.” 

“Gentlemen?” Dutch returned, his tone disbelieving, “Colm O’Driscoll? Have you lost your minds?”

“You’re always tellin’ us, Dutch,” Micah started, “do what needs to be done, but don’t fight wars not worth fightin’.” 

“They want a parley?” Hosea called out from where he was sitting at a camp table nearby, “It’s a trap.” 

“Well, of course it’s...probably a trap,” Micah said, turning to address him somewhat before looking back toward Dutch, “but what have we got to lose?”

“Get shot,” Arthur commented. 

“We ain’t gettin’ shot because you’ll be protectin’ us,” Micah returned, placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder that he shook off, “If it’s a trap, you kill the lot. If it’s not, that slim chance…” 

“I don’t see the point in any of this…” Dutch replied, stepping past them to walk toward the table where Hosea was sitting. You shifted back somewhat, crossing your arms as you watched on curiously. 

“It’s a chance we gotta take,” Micah asserted, following Dutch toward the table as the other man rested his hands on the top of it. 

“I killed Colm’s brother…” Dutch started, “...a long time ago. Then he killed...a woman I loved dear…” 

“As you say,” Micah returned after a short pause, “it’s a long time ago, Dutch.” 

There was a bit of a pregnant pause as Dutch seemed to decide on the course of action. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your gut, especially with how hard Micah seemed to be pushing things. Admittedly, you only knew a handful of information about the O’Driscolls from what you heard around camp and what you had just heard from Dutch’s mouth. Yet...well, even you were uncertain. 

“...Let’s go,” Dutch decided, “you, me, and Arthur protectin’ us. No one else.” 

“What about me?” Pearson asked. 

“This ain’t the time for tigers, my friend.” 

You stepped forward as the group dispersed, watching as Dutch, Micah, and Arthur headed toward the horses. A part of you was really wanting to quickly run over to catch Arthur’s arm, ask if he’s really certain about this. Yet...well, with Micah and Dutch waiting on him, you could imagine the answer. 

‘I don’t feel like I got much power here.’ 

“Shit,” you cursed, stopping your walk short as you saw them mount up and ride off into the wooded path leading out of camp. 

“You ain’t sure about this, either?” 

Hosea’s voice came from over your shoulder as he walked up to where you were standing, staring off after the spot your gaze was lingering on. 

“No. What can we do about it, though?”

“We wait,” Hosea replied, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Hope nothin’ happens.” 

You could hope all you want, but there was that sinking feeling in your gut that left you feeling all sorts of conflicted. It was hard to shake, and would be until they returned. You didn’t want to blame it on a pre-existing dislike of Micah, but with the memory of the purposeful gunshot he placed toward your horse that caused your fall…

Well, who could really blame you for being anxious about this? 

[mittensmorgul]

"We make a good team don't we?" Ah yes, what a good team with one of them having to go out there and deal with the trauma of SEEING DEAD KIDS WHILE telling the other to just stay back and play boggle. How exactly were you a TEAM, Dean? Pray tell for I am DYING to know.

I love that Caitlin lampshaded something Big and Important. When she caught up to Dean while he was picking the lock at the cannery, as she invited herself along (and taunted Dean for being bad at picking locks just as he got it open, still within seconds DESPITE having been distracted while opening it), she says “Come on, don’t you want a partner?” Because yes... yes he does want a partner.

He doesn’t want it to be someone he feels morally and personally responsible for. Or someone who he feels obligated to protect first because they’re otherwise in the dark, like Caitlin was on this hunt. Dean described later the effect of finding those children’s bodies had on him for years afterward, and he did everything he could to shield Caitlin from seeing it too, and never mentioned it to Sam.

And all of *this* is lampshaded by his evasiveness regarding Cas throughout most of the episode.

Show of hands: How many people out there have considered the fact that Dean was evasive about why Cas left was because Dean offered to go with him, and Cas told him no? That this was something Cas had to do himself?

Also, how many people out there have considered the fact that Cas definitely told Dean about Jack’s deal with Billie, but likely did NOT also tell Dean about his OWN deal with the Empty? And that Cas is still desperately trying to hide that fact from Dean, and is also staying distant from him so that tidbit doesn’t come out before he can save Jack from Billie’s plans for him?

Cas was clearly in communication with Dean despite being out on his own right now, which... yay, we know it wasn’t an argument between them that ushered Cas out the door alone, which leaves it as Cas’s choice (perhaps demand) that he go alone.

Meanwhile Dean was antsy the entire time, and it was apparently Sam’s idea to respond to Caitlin’s request for their presence since they didn’t have anything else to do but wait for Billie’s final instructions to Jack... because he didn’t know yet that Jack’s instructions the entire time were already known to Jack...

heck I am super rambling here...

but there’s a point to it, I swear...

Throughout the ep we saw Young Dean rather torn between wanting to shield Sam and yet also ensuring he was prepared to face the reality of their lives. He might not have been very good at balancing those things, but that’s mostly because nobody ever did any of those things for HIM. Over the years, Sam has found a way to incorporate “guns, knives, and books” into his life as best he could, even if “monster lore” hadn’t been the subject of his childhood passion, you know?

Sam was (understandably) angry that Dean tried to keep the truth of Jack’s situation from him, but honestly what can EITHER of them do with this information? Because Dean is equally right. Do they actually have a choice in this matter?

Sure, Cas is looking for a different solution, but the problem is so far beyond anything Sam and Dean are actually capable of doing to fix it that seriously... do they actually have a choice here? I mean, the choice between “let Jack detonate and hope the universe survives” versus “do nothing and wait for Chuck to murder the universe anyway.” Either way, it’s a lose-lose situation. What other choice do they have? Their last ditch, Hail Mary play had been containing Chuck with a Mark, and that failed in 15.09 when Sam refused to activate the spell to trap him. Even that is no longer an option now. They literally have no other options here.

So why would Dean have been all eager to tell Sam this? It’s a HORRIBLE thing to have to carry and know. Just like Dean never told Sam about the monster’s nest full of dead children. WHY would he share that horror with Sam? What purpose would it have served?

And honestly, why doesn’t Sam understand that having witnessed that horror and carried it alone all these years wasn’t just about “hiding stuff” from Sam, but about Dean’s literal trauma suffered from it? The way Sam reacted, grumpily asking why Dean had never told him about the nest, while Dean relives the horror of it... Sam blew it off as “you were just a kid,” and “we used to keep a lot of secrets from each other,” as if this was just some normal sort of secret. The look on Dean’s face where I have the episode paused reacting to Sam’s comments... Dean is CLEARLY saying stuff here that Sam is not interpreting through the correct lens of “THIS WAS A DEEPLY TRAUMATIZING EVENT THAT YOU ARE NOT UNDERSTANDING THE DEPTH OF HOW BADLY THIS AFFECTED ME AND ARE JOVIALLY EQUATING IT WITH THINGS LIKE SHOPLIFTING A JAR OF PEANUT BUTTER OR SNEAKING OUT TO PLAY VIDEO GAMES AT NIGHT LIKE... SAM... BABBY... PLS NO”

lol I unpaused it and it went to the diner scene, and even in salad metaphor we see Dean trying to give Sam what he knows Sam would LIKE (kale or arugula salad, a veggie burger), but the diner he’s at only has iceberg lettuce with ranch. Dean gets it anyway, and Sam will probably tolerate it thinking Dean was just being a jerk getting that for him, but like... is he supposed to conjure kale out of thin air ffs... and Dean will probably take the hit, because it’s just salad and Sam will live through it.

But that’s not a partnership. It’s Dean doing everything he can to emotionally manage everything, and it’s exhausting.

But this all goes back to your question, finally! Dean needed Sam to be onboard Team Winchester, because to deviate could mean that SAM ended up in that pile of dead kids, you know? That’s what Dean saw in his vision later, that’s what haunted him. It could’ve been Sam, if he’d failed to protect him. And it WAS Travis...

And Sam was pulled into the final fight when they were kids. He helped protect Travis by keeping him distracted with the creepy boggle game (and honestly that list of words... I need to write something about that, and the fact Travis always told Caitlin that the monster had been “playing games” with him... he meant it very literally... but that’s for another post), but the monster arrived in their room just before Dean did. Sam pulled Travis away from the monster, then Dean told him to “get back” and sliced off the ring... Sam had helped, and it was enough to tell a 9-year-old that he’d done a good job and was part of the team.

But I do think that’s something Dean does want... a partner, and not someone he feels obligated to the way he does Sam. Or not someone whose emotional management is heaped on him, like it was with Caitlin in this episode on their childhood hunt.

[supernaturalnovelsandmore]

Supernatural Novel: Heart of the Dragon

Welcome to my not-quite review of the fourth Supernatural novel, Heart of the Dragon.

Author: Keith R.A. DeCandido

Timeline: Set after Episode 5.08 Changing Channels

Location: San Francisco, California (Chinatown)

Synopsis: An old foe has come back to terrorize San Francisco, but what is the connection between the Campbells, John Winchester and Sam and Dean? Read to find out!

Warning: Spoilers abound!

Oh, where do I start? Heart of the Dragon has a very different feel to it, one that I'm not entirely on board with. Basically, it's a flashback book that spends the first third on Samuel, Deanna, and Mary Campbell, the second third on John Winchester and the last quarter on Sam and Dean. In fact, out of 28 chapters, Sam and Dean were only featured in about 7 of them. It leaves the book feeling hollow and me, a little meh. But, there are some additional insights into the Winchester family history which I'll try and parse out.

One more thought, I'm glad this is the last book from this particular author. Once again he has utilized a culture/race to tell the story, and not well. When the story is in 1969, he utilizes the world Orientals to explain Japanese and Chinese characters. He might have been trying to use the wording of the day, and that's fine if it's in dialogue, but to use it as a descriptor is problematic, at best. He also plays up multiple stereotypes from the Chinese mob to the Japanese Samurai. I'm hoping this book is the Route 666 of the novels and that they can only get better.

I decided to sort my thoughts within the different timelines, so here we go:

1969: Samuel, Deanna, and Mary Campbell

We open with the family hunting a vampire and Samuel using 15-year-old Mary as willing bait. It turns out to be a nest, but they quickly dispatch them without casualties. Deanna appears to be quite the hunter in her own right (her skill with a Claymore outstanding.) Within this hunt we learn a few things about Mary and the Campbell family.

The Campbells have a strong link to their Scottish heritage.

Samuel hates Christmas

Mary is willful, annoying, and disrespectful, but an amazing hunter who was raised practically from birth to how to hunt and defend herself. (Sam parallels, perhaps?)

Mary learned about monsters at 11 when she saw her parents dispatch an avenging spirit.

Samuel hates the idea of Mary hanging out with any boys, though she has a particular fondness for a John Winchester who works as a local auto-mechanic.

Samuel owns a dry-cleaning business and Deanna substitute teaches to help maintain some kind of income.

Mary often wondered about having a normal life, but would dismiss it knowing she couldn't have that and still know monsters are out there. (Seems like a combination of Sam and Dean here).

Other than that, the hunt they go to San Francisco for seems fairly perfunctory. They do a bunch of research, talk to a few locals. Samuel dons his FBI agent schtick, they locate the source of the problem, and quickly dispatch it. There's nothing too dramatic there, just a lot of backstory.

1989: John Winchester

There's a bit more insight here because now we're getting some insight into Dad John, as well as 6-year-old Sam and 10-year-old Dean. I'll touch on a few points.

Leaving his boys with others: We open with John returning to his kids whom he left at Bobby's while he took care of a hunt. He left them long enough that they were enrolled in school and he planned on keeping them there for the fall semester. He felt bad about using Bobby's hospitality for so long.

Training his boys: "John knew his boys would need to be able to defend themselves against whatever was out there - he'd already started that process with Dean... Dean was a crack shot with John's M1911 and could load the shotgun with iron rounds and fire them off in one smooth motion. Eventually he'd need to train Sammy too. But not yet."

Loving his boys: When he arrives at Bobby's, Sam runs out to meet him and wraps his arms around John's legs as he walks in. Sam also tattles on Dean for eating the last donut.

There are also some fun moments between young Sam and Dean, mostly sibling bickering.

Dean and Sam enjoy playing hide-and-seek among Bobby's car on the weekends and Sam enjoys going to school during the week. Dean, not so much.

Sam proudly shares that he's doing 3rd grade work in 1st grade and then teases Dean about also doing 3rd grade work even though he's in 5th grade (Dean then sticks his tongue out at Sam and says "Screw you, Sammy.") At this John calls them out and both boys are chagrined.

Later on, when John calls Bobby for more information, we find Dean holding a pen out of Sam's reach and teasing him with it.

Of course, that call means we also get this heartbreaking line moment from Dean, who wants to talk to his Dad, but can't before John hangs up. Bobby tries to explain: "'Sorry, Dean, he, uh, was on his way out the door. But he told me to tell you both to behave yourselves and do what I tell you. And that he loves you.' Dean: 'Did he really say that?'"

When Bobby presents the next case, John is torn between wanting to spend time with his kids, but going after something that could cause people to burn spontaneously, in the hopes that it might lead him to the demon who killed Mary. I think the book did a good job of capturing John's struggle between revenge and caring for his boys. He's not the abusive, neglectful father people tend to think he is. He's someone struggling to make things right.

"John didn't answer at first. Instead, he looked over at Sam and Dean in the dining room, playing that oh-so-common game of 'I touched you last.'

Christmas was coming up and he did want to spend it with the boys..."

Finally, when John returns and Bobby and the boys meet him at the airport, we get some additional insight into 10-year-old Dean's thoughts regarding his father and his place in the family.

"Waiting there in the airport, he understood how important it was for Dad to be away so much - more than Sammy ever could. Sammy hadn't really known Mom, since he was just a baby when she died. Dean couldn't imagine that his baby brother would ever truly understand what had happened to her.

If he was honest with himself, he didn't really understand it, either. There were some days - though he'd never admit this to anyone - when he couldn't even remember what she looked like.

Some kind of monster had killed Mom, and Dad wouldn't rest until he found that monster and killed it. Along the way, he'd kill any other monsters who tried to kill other people's moms...

Dad still fought the bad guys and saved people, but he also cared about his sons.

Because Dad was a hero, and that was what heroes did."

2009 - Sam and Dean

There isn't much to write about here, because they weren't featured in the book. I will just add a couple of notes.

Dean recognizes Samuel Campbell in a newspaper article about the killings. (He'd already been sent back in time and met his grandfather).

It's seems reasonable to Sam that Mary and her parents were hunters. What freaks him out is that he and Dean were named after their grandparents and John never told them.

Sam's been a nerd about the American Interstate system since he was 10 and loved poring over maps.

Sam feels more guilt from trusting Ruby over Dean than starting the apocalypse.

Final notes:

This book introduces Castiel who brings the case to the boys attention. We get the same stuff in here that you see on screen, he has issues with personal space, comes and goes at will, and Bobby's still mad at him for not being able to heal his paralysis. He's only there for a few pages, and then disappears again.

Bobby gets a bit more screen time, as a pseudo-dad to young Sam and Dean, and later as their resource when researching the case and it's history. Favorite quote: "As he went into the fridge for butter to spread onto the pan, Bobby decided it was the entire Winchester family that was making him bald."

We briefly get Hurt Sam who is punched repeatedly by a hulk of a man, but with no lasting consequences and very little caring Dean.

We find out at the end that Zachariah orchestrated the whole thing by planting the idea in Castiel's head.

So, like I said at the beginning, not my favorite, but hopefully I was able to share some of the more interesting parts. Read at your own risk!

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  Magical Loopholes

Chapter 54:  Waiting For...

There was a problem.

He knew there was a problem deep down in his soul. The second David had gone to sleep, Regina had moved around Henry and, almost mother-like, positioned her former enemy's body on the cot as if it would bring him more comfort. She rolled him onto his back, picked his feet up off the floor, and folded his hands over his belly.

And then they'd waited.

And waited.

And waited.

With Henry, it had been quick. He'd been asleep and awake again in less than an hour, but with David, the time ticked on and on and on. Thirty minutes…one hour…then two. Henry stood dutifully by his grandfather's bedside, watching him for any change, any sign that he was stirring. Regina kept watch beside her son. He worked his wheel, did a few odd jobs, tinkered as he waited and watched the clock, pretending as though he wasn't nervous when that was all he felt.

"Come on…come back," Henry begged at two hours and fifteen minutes. "Should he be in there so long?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Regina for the briefest of seconds before turning back to David.

"I'm sure it's fine. I imagine they're just catching up," Regina assured him behind his back.

But then she turned to glance at him, her own eyes questioning and filled with worry and panic. Should this be taking so long? she practically begged of him.

He shook his head as dread crept over her face, and she began to accept what he'd already put together. As the afternoon faded far too slowly into the evening, he began to think once again about calling Belle that night. He avoided it, again because she didn't have the phone in his pocket and because he still simply didn't want to worry her. Though things were looking bleak, they weren't over yet. That night when the world went dark, he'd observed her lights on in the library, at least knew that she'd gotten home from lunch okay and was fine for now. If anyone or anything with magic, namely Cora, went over to that library, he'd know it. That was what got him through the night. That, and spinning.

He spent the night in his shop with Regina and Henry, at least for the most part. He'd tinkered a bit but mostly spent some time at his wheel as they'd waited, though, with every passing second, he felt less and less hopeful that anything would happen. At some point, Henry dragged a chair over to the cot, slowly curled up in it, and eventually fell asleep. Certain that Henry was asleep, he and Regina began their own conversation as he began to consider alternative plans. He didn't let her know that was what the conversation was about, not with Henry so close, even if he was positive the boy was asleep. But if he was going to come up with something, he needed information. He needed the facts that Dove had not provided.

"Word on the street was that David was looking for Fairy Dust last week."

Regina nodded. "They found it too. On the night of the full moon, down in the mines, dozens of crystals, fairy dust in its raw form."

"What would a former Prince want with such a thing?"

Regina sighed as she shifted in her own seat. "Jefferson's hat…we used it to banish the wraith to our world, and that was when Mary Margaret and Emma went through the portal. David tried to jump through it as it was closing, and he destroyed it. He was hoping that with enough Fairy Dust, they'd be able to repair it so Emma and Mary Margaret could get back through."

That was unlikely. Fairy dust hadn't crafted that hat for Jefferson. His grandfather had, a Portal Maker, one of the last in their world. And yes, Jefferson could always travel between worlds going and coming at leisure, but he always needed the hat with him. Apparently, David hadn't allowed them to take it with them. Still, the thought of using the hat to get to their realm and bring them back…it was worth a shot, even if it was grasping at straws.

"Where is the hat now?"

"Gone," she answered. "Spencer, he…he caused the trouble with Ruby as a distraction. It was all a ploy to steal the hat from David and take his family away from him. He burned it in front of David."

He held in his disappointment, doing his best to focus on his spinning and keeping their conversation casual, but he couldn't help but want to kill the man for wasting such precious magic all out of revenge. Somethings never changed. People too.

Finally, in the earliest hours of the morning, Regina too began to succumb to the boredom of waiting and began to look tired herself. She wasn't the Dark One like he was, merely a human. And while he could spend the night here, awake, and watching David, much like Henry, she couldn't. Or if she tried, she'd be worse for wear because of it. It was well past midnight when he tapped on her shoulder and told her to take Henry and go home to sleep. They could come back in the morning.

She didn't argue. And neither did Henry when Regina roused him just enough to sleepily walk out of the shop. He locked the door, continued his spinning, knowing, truly in the deepest part of his heart, that he was no longer waiting for David to wake. He was waiting for Cora.

David wasn't waking. There could be many reasons for it. It could mean he'd never found his way to the Red Room, or Mary Margaret hadn't met him there, or the theory about kissing in the Netherworld hadn't worked. Hell, for all he knew, Mary Margaret had met him there but had been torn away from the world as Aurora was! She could be dead for all they knew, captured and killed by Cora…or worse, her heart could have been taken. He didn't have a favorite theory, only drew one conclusion he didn't care for.

Without a clear line of communication, there was no telling if they'd received the message, which meant that they had to assume the worst. The worst, in this case, meant that Emma and Mary Margaret were dead. And Cora was coming. And she could arrive any moment. If this didn't work, they'd need to come up with another plan, and they'd need to come up with it fast, which meant that he needed to come up with a plan.

He thought about what he knew, about all the information that he'd acquired since they'd first interrupted his lunch with Belle. There was a way here from their land. Why there hadn't been one before was a mystery he didn't need to dwell on, though he'd be willing to bet it was because he'd brought magic to this world. All that mattered now was that there was a way here, and Mary Margaret, Emma, and Cora all knew it. They were all racing to get to the same portal. He didn't see Cora being willing to share, and frankly, he couldn't see Mary Margaret being willing to share with Cora either now that she was older and wiser to Regina's mother. But, to be honest, he doubted that would be the problem. Cora was older than both Mary Margaret and Emma. She was far more cunning than either of them and had more fight in her than appeared. Besides, she had magic. If it was a race to the portal and they didn't have squid ink on their side, he very much so doubted it would Emma and Mary Margaret coming through the portal.

There was a portal…if they couldn't stop them from forming it and coming through on that side…maybe they could stop them on this side.

It was worth a shot.

He had an idea about that, one born from thinking too long into the night and letting his mind wander. At some point, he'd thought about Jefferson's hat and how fraudulent magicians in this world enjoyed pulling rabbits out of such things. It was an idiotic concept until his mind had drifted to another "hat-shaped" object in Storybrooke, one that magic had been pulled out of, one that held the promise of returning lost things. Portals couldn't just open anywhere. They drew their power from sources of great power, which was why it would take a great amount of power to block them. They wouldn't be able to summon a barrier, to block it off completely, but perhaps a net.

If he used a great amount of power, both Light and Dark, he might be able to create some sort of trap, something that would kill anyone who tried to come through it. He had Fairy Dust in the mines that was unused, he had a Fairy wand to channel it, he had his Dark Magic, and he had Regina, a woman of neither Light nor Dark Magic. If she could give him a kernel of her power, open up a channel between them for him to use what he had…it might just work.

But to what goal?

Belle wasn't going to like this. He knew it the moment he'd had the plan in his head. She was going to hate it. And he was trying so, so hard to be on his best behavior for her. This would ruin all of that. But what was the alternative to not doing it? He'd only just saved her from her father, if Cora came here, if Emma and Mary Margaret led her here, Belle wouldn't stand a chance against Cora not unless Cora decided she didn't care. And he very much so doubted that would be the case. He was trying hard to be the best person he could be for Belle. But if Cora killed her, the best person he could be would never be enough to bring her back.

If he set this trap, it could work. He'd lose Emma and Mary Margaret if he was wrong. But if he was right…

What choice did he have?

[thejollyroger-writer]

THE WASTELAND - Chapter Three: THE ATHENAEUM // THE CABIN, Part 1

Some triggers: this story is rated TEEN, mostly for violence. It takes place during wartime, and some of the characters go through some violence and torture. If you need more information about this, please just message me!

SUMMARY:  In a world that has been saturated in war for as long as anyone can remember, Emma Swan has rebuilt her life as far away from the chaos as possible, opening her own maternity hospital after spending too many years in makeshift battlefield aid stations. But one night, a bloodied and battered soldier finds her hospital trying to get away from an enemy with a penchant for torture and a personal vendetta against him. With the help of Emma’s childhood friend Prince David and a motley collection of humans and magic-wielders, the quest to save Killian Jones’ life from the poison used by the enemy takes them to places even beyond the known world.

Header and the art for every chapter by the lovely @spartanguard – special thanks to @cssns for making this monster happen!

Prologue on AO3 // Prologue on Tumblr // Chapter One (ART) // Chapter Two (ART) // Chapter Three on AO3 

ART for this chapter 

-- -- --

“What is that one?” Emma asks, trying to focus on Regina as she changes the bandages around Killian’s battlefield amputation — each part of this a remnant from a life she truly thought she left behind. She hasn’t practiced very much magic since she turned to prenatal medicine, only needing the few spells that would help women get through the pain of childbirth, and it’s been just as long since she’s used any potions beyond the few Johanna taught her how to make, nonetheless brewed them herself. 

The memory of how to restitch an amputation like the one Killian sustained comes back to her no problem, though, so as she goes through the motions of fixing what got torn during transportation, she tries to pay as much attention to Regina as she can. 

“This one is hawthorne flower mixed with a little mustard seed and some foxglove root."

“Do you think any of these are going to work?” Mary Margaret’s voice is small, strange coming from the one who usually offers hope even in the times that seem the most hopeless, but even she knows just how bad Killian’s wounds are. 

Regina shakes her head, but doesn’t look up from the worn book on the table in front of her. “It would be much easier if we knew what he was poisoned with that helped make the dark magic this strong, but I’ve never seen anything strong enough to keep a wound from healing, especially not to the point that this one is. It’s just oozing whatever they used on him. 

“And he didn’t tell you what the poison was?” Mary Margaret asks, pacing back and forth in the walkway between the kitchen and the living room, unable to keep her worry off her face. 

“I doubt he even knows,” David says. “I’ve seen what Pan and Baelfire can do on their own firsthand, but now that they’re working together, I can only imagine the kind of vile, dark things they’re doing.” 

“If it’s even from this land,” Emma says, letting the thought slip past her lips for the first time. It’s an idea that they’ve all been trying to avoid, knowing that it would make finding a cure even harder. For all the ages the world has been at war, the thought of new lands beyond their borders is a relatively new one, people too focused on the violence within these borders to even think about leaving them. But within the past few years, talk of other lands has been popping up, especially around communities of mer-nephilm and some of the elders who have tried to focus their energies on new ways of travel beyond trains and cars. 

(King Gold had a small fleet of men who knew how to navigate in the air, the rumors said, but after some of the men threatened to take their science and technology to the Gale, Gold had all of the ships destroyed -- and, the rumors said, all the men as well.)

“Yeah, well, let’s just hope that’s not the case,” Regina mumbles, turning yet another page in one of the books that are currently covering her large dining room table. “I am running out of ideas, though.” 

David and Emma share a glance, thankfully not caught by the others in the room. They both have an idea, one paired with the nightmarish memory from a battlefield hospital and a time they’ve both tried to forget, a time that Emma specifically locked away in the back of her mind in a vault that she never wanted to re-open. 

They try a few more potions and some minor spells on Killian’s wound, even hoping to find something that could at least keep debris from getting in it, but their search comes up fruitless. Nothing they do has any effect on the wound at all.

An hour later, and though the rest of Killian’s wounds are patched, stitched, and covered, they’ve made zero headway towards any sort of healing for the gash over his heart. 

Regina has gone up to her office, searching for a few rare ingredients for her last-ditch effort for a healing potion and packing a bag for their travels; David and Mary Margaret sit on her back porch, each with a cup of coffee in the hand that is not grasping onto the other. But Emma sits on one of the kitchen chairs by where they laid Killian, her focus still on the glimmering wound that covers his heart. She has worked a small ball of her own magical energy between her hands, getting it to react with the snaps and crackles still coming from the dark magic inside the gash. She can feel the power from within it humming, louder as she and her magic move closer toward it, but the most she can get to happen is a fine protective layer over his skin, no thicker than cheesecloth, but still failing to touch the affected area.  

She is so focused on this that she fails to notice as Killian starts to stir, his head moving slowly from one side to the other as he regains consciousness and tries to figure out where he is and how he got there. 

“Swan,” he chokes out after a few moments, no louder than a whisper with how dry his throat has become, but it still scares her enough to get her to jump from her seat. 

“Fuck,” she whispers, her hand over her heart, but a small smile starts to spread across her face. “Sorry, you just scared me.” 

Killian offers a small smile of his own. “My apologies, love.” He tries to cough to clear his throat, but only finds pain. “Could I get some water?’ he whispers. “And what the hell did you do to me, everything hurts again.” 

Jumping out of her seat for real this time, Emma nods. “Yes, yes, of course. And I’ll get you another round of painkillers.” 

He finds his eyes locked on her as she walks away, really taking in her figure for the first time since she found him in her office. She’s slender, but muscular, he notices — though it’s not the first time for that, since she did have to move him a few times. But this is the first he notices how truly beautiful she is, her wavy blonde hair piled high on top of her head so as to stay out of her way as she worked on him. When she turns at the kitchen counter, filling the glass she has found with water from the faucet, she finds him watching her, and the corner of her lip turns up into a gentle smile. 

He realizes here, answering her smile with a small one of his own, just how indebted to her he is. He does not remember much about the night he crawled into her hospital, but he knows just how damn lucky he was to have ended up there and not in a place where he would have been denied care — or, worse, turned back to Baelfire and Pan. 

Just how lucky he was to find a caretaker with such strong ties to the Prince, the only other leader he has found worthy of his dedication since he lost his brother, and the man who, at many times, even reminds him of Liam in the best of ways. 

Under any other circumstance, he most likely would have been dead already and not in the care of someone who so adamantly wants to find a way to rid him of the darkness found within the deep wound inflicted in his side. Someone he feels so drawn to, though he cannot figure out why, and certainly will not act on that feeling.

“Here you go,” she says, handing him a glass of water before doing her best to help him sit up without causing him pain or reopening any of the wounds she just finished restitching. 

“Thank you.” 

He takes a small sip of water, the coolness of it immediately helping his dry throat. 

Slowly, Emma sits down beside him, and he realizes that she has not taken her eyes off of him since she handed him the glass. 

“Can I ask you something?’ she asks after a moment, her voice quiet, as if she is trying to keep their conversation a secret from those around them, even though they are alone in the large open space. 

He just nods, taking another sip of the water. 

“Do you know what Pan used to drug you?” 

Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes a deep, ragged breath. This is the conversation he has been dreading, because he knows that revealing it will only remove the small amount of hope left in Emma, her thinking that they will be able to find a cure for him. He does not know if anyone else in their party has any experience with the poison, but he knows more about it than he cares to, though he does not yet know how to share that with her. 

“Yes,” he says finally. “Though I’m afraid that, in the times I’ve dealt with it in the past, there has been no way to cure the victim once it’s been used, and I certainly haven’t seen it used alongside dark magic the way it has been here.” 

His words are ice to the deepest parts of her, and she doesn’t need him to say any more to know that her hunch has become the reality. 

“Dreamshade.” 

They say it at the same time, their eyes locking together moments later, and neither of them dares to move. 

The sliding door to the back porch slides shut even though neither of them heard it open. 

“Dreamshade?” David asks, and they both snap their attention to him, though only Emma nods. 

“That’s good, though, right?” Mary Margaret asks, much too much hope in her voice for the circumstance, “Now that we know that, we just have to find the antidote?” 

David and Emma share a look again, and this time it is noticed by the others in the room; obviously they know something they’re not sharing. 

Nobody answers — nobody moves —  for what feels like far too long. Mary Margaret takes turns staring at both of them, but does not press any further. The silence holds until Regina comes down the stairs, and she notices the awkward, tense silence right away. 

“What the hell is going on down here?” 

This is the question that breaks them, and both David and Emma seem to return their attention back to the room from wherever their minds took them to, but it’s not until David speaks that Killian does the same, his mind off on a memory of its own. 

“Do you want to tell them, or should I?” David asks, and when Emma doesn’t answer, too afraid of the ghosts the story will reveal about her past, David takes the lead.

“Psst, Em,” David whispers, nudging her with his elbow. She didn’t mean to fall asleep, really, but with everything going on, with all the changes happening to everything around her, she's glad she was able to find a little bit of rest . It takes her a moment to adjust to her surroundings — or, what little of them she can see, since everything around her is still dark. 

“It’s the middle of the night,” she mumbles, still trying to figure out what the single blinding light in front of the truck might be. 

“Yeah, but we’re here.” 

They’re here. 

“You couldn’t have, I don’t know, gotten us here during the day?” she jokes, but neither of them smile. None of this is funny. 

“We can’t cross the Wasteland during the day, Swan,” Robin says from the backseat, not sensing the joke, and David lets out a small laugh. But in a moment, as the hospital becomes clearer in front of them, all of the laughter in the truck is sucked away. 

“Have any of you ever been to a battlefield hospital?” Emma asks, a much more serious tone in her voice than was there a moment before. 

A much more terrified tone. 

“I promised my mother I’d stay away from them,” David says. 

“Yet here we are,” Robin deadpans. “Why are we here again?”

“I need to be somewhere other than sitting behind the planning table next to my father, who will never listen to nothing I say to him anyway.” 

“And this is where you decided you’ll do the most good?” 

“I was forbidden from battlefields, especially with all this new technology Gold’s trackers have. I wasn’t forbidden from raising the morale of the men fighting for me by aiding in their healing.” 

“What about the rest of us?” 

Emma holds up her hands, answering for herself before David can pull her into the conversation. “I’m a medic, so I can help people wherever we end up.” 

“A healer I understand, Dave, but you brought a Terren to a place where neither a connection to the earth or the animals will be helpful.” 

David cranes his head so he can see Robin in the rear-view mirror. “I brought you because you’re the only man who I trust with my life,” he says, as much sincerity in his voice as he can muster, and the truck stays silent as David parks in the small lot outside the hospital.

They’re greeted by a man in all black with wild blond hair sticking up in every direction and a woman with long, dark hair in jeans and a maroon fatigue top, with a rifle slung across her back and a pistol and a dagger in matching leather sheaths on either hip. T he man speaks first, holding his hand out to David after opening the gate for them before greeting the rest of them. “Welcome, Your Highness. It’s a pleasure to have you all here. I’m Victor Whale, I’m sort of in charge around here.”  

“And I’m Mulan,” the woman says, her face and voice lacking all signs of emotion. “I’m in charge of everything Victor isn’t.” 

She shakes none of their hands, though acknowledges David with a slight nod. He’s been around warriors like her before, can tell by her countenance alone that she is among those who have been forced into a war that they wanted nothing to do with simply because they had no other choice. He is sympathetic towards them, but he would never say it out loud, as it would be seen as dishonorable though he would never mean it as such. 

Victor offers them a small tour of the camp, only the things they pass on the way to their cabins, with Mulan disappearing in the opposite direction.

“I apologize for her, Your Highness, she—” Victor tries, but David silences him both with a hand held up and with his own words. 

“Please don’t apologize for her. I’ve been around enough of this war to sense the disdain for me, my father, and everything we stand for without anyone needing to say anything. It’s part of the reason I’m so dead-set on spending time outside of the safety of the palace, part of the reason I’m here in the first place.” Victor nods. “And also, I think it would be better if you just called me David, and I would only like for you to introduce me as such. I don’t want the soldiers out here to think of me as their Prince, but just as another man who is on their side of this war.” 

At this, Victor smiles, pulling open the door to a well-kept cabin in a more secluded part of the camp. “You’re a good man, sir. I hope you know that much of this army chooses to fight for you and not for your father. That many of us wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” 

David follows Emma and Robin through the door, finding themselves in a small common area with a few doors around it that lead to a single bathroom and four individual “bedrooms,” which only contain a small cot and a set of drawers, the space that the three of them will call home for the next few months. 

“I really appreciate it, Victor.” 

“Get some rest and I’ll find you again in the morning to show you around the rest of the camp. It’s been a quiet few days so hopefully you’ll be able to get a bit settled before any of you are really needed.” 

  They go through a relatively quiet two months, nothing unexpected coming up through the woodwork from the frontlines, though with far more bullets than Emma ever wanted to see, a very different life than she ever imagined since David introduced her to the palace medic. 

Until Jefferson arrives. He was part of a prisoner swap between this hospital and another, not the first of those Emma had been there to witness, but he was in a far worse state than any of the other wounds that Emma has helped with since her arrival. 

A far worse state than she’s ever seen before. 

Will Scarlett, the man that came with him, relayed the information he’d discovered during his time as a prisoner in the Nephilim camp — though there was not much to relay beyond his knowledge of what happened to Jefferson. 

“From what I gathered, there were a few higher-up Nephilim soldiers who recently took a liking to torture, and were, uh, practicing some newer forms.” 

“This is more than just torture,” David mutters, watching as Whale’s surgical needle fails to take hold of the skin around the gash on the man’s arm. 

“Well, yeah,” Will says, sitting up on his elbows in his cot. “One of those forms was this new kind of poison, supposedly from some far-off land that no one has ever seen before.” 

“What land?” David asks. 

Will narrows his eyes at him, his attention flitting for a moment to Robin, standing right behind the Prince. “I don’t bloody know, it’s a place that no one has ever been,” he practically spits. “Why do you look so familiar?”

David shrugs off the question, trying to go back to the poison. “Did you hear them say anything about the poison they used?” 

This time, Will just shakes his head. After a moment, he adds, "I think they called it Dreamshade, if that means anything to you." 

Everyone around the bed exchanges glances, hoping that it means something to one of them. 

It doesn't. 

Over the next few days, his condition only worsens, the area around what they decide must have been the injection site growing black, with the darkness spreading further up his arm in his veins.  

It takes two days before he is able to move, slowly recovering from his complete paralysis, but no one gets their hopes up. 

It’s a week before he begins to speak, his eyes always set off in the distance and unresponsive to anything or anyone that tries to pull him out of the obvious trance he finds himself in, saying things like, "The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!" or "Half-past one, time for dinner!" in a very excited tone, his words rushed, though often half-whispered.

Or even, sometimes, words none of them even recognized, sung as if part of a poem: "Twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyre and gimbel in the wabe. All mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgrabe." 

On day 12, he makes eye contact with Emma as she is changing some of his bandages, a crazed expression that covers every inch of his face — and somehow, Emma has the feeling that if he had the strength for it, he would have bolted to sit up straight. 

“Neverland,” he says, his focus on her so intent that it terrifies her for a moment, though she does think this word is just part of another string of nonsense. 

 But then he reaches out to grab her arm, suddenly overcome with a strength none of them would have guessed he could muster in his current state, and starts to speak again, the words coming out almost too quickly for her to understand. “They said it was from a place called-called Neverland, and the little boy was in charge. The-the-the little boy and the prince.”

“David!” Emma calls, not breaking her eye contact with Jefferson, afraid that it would also break the streak of consciousness he seems to have at the moment. “Whale!” 

“The prince, he wanted something that c-couldn’t be cured, and this-this is what the little boy suggested, say-say-saying that no one could ever find the cure  since it's only on an island that no one could-could ever find on their own.” 

“Neverland,” Emma says, thankful for David’s hand heavy on her shoulder, keeping her grounded, needing him to know something about the babble coming from this immensely wounded soldier. 

“An island no one can find,” David repeats, his voice soft. Jefferson shifts his gaze to David, as if realizing for the first time that he is there. 

“The boy t-talked about-about jungles and rivers a-and-and enchanted pools, the only place where-where anyone could f-f-find the cure.” 

He looks away from all of them, his eyes once again set off in the distance, but his grip on Emma’s arm even tighter than before. 

“Neverland,” he repeats one more time, taking a slow breath deep enough that Emma watches the rise and fall of his shoulders. 

And then, as quickly as it started, his hand grows limp on her wrist, and he mumbles, "Why is a raven like a writing desk?", his attention no longer on anything around him as he slips back into madness. 

“That was the only thing he ever said that made sense,” David says, wringing his hands around his cup of coffee as he shakes his head. 

“What happened to him?” Killian asks, his eyes pressed shut as if he is afraid to make eye contact with anyone in the room. 

(He is, fearing that he knows the answer to his own question,)

“He lived for another four days, mumbling nonsense, and then one morning, he just didn’t wake up. Sixteen days.”

Eyes still shut, Killian nods. This was the answer he was expecting, though far from the one he was hoping for deep down. 

“Sixteen days,” he whispers, not needing to open his eyes to know that everyone in the room is focused on him. 

“Sixteen days after he came to the hospital. According to Will, he was at the Nephilim camp with him for at least another two weeks before that.” 

Killian lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. He does finally open his eyes, but the only person in the room he is able to look at is Emma, whose green eyes are full of sympathy, but not sadness. 

He’s thankful for that. 

“So that’s, what, a month? It’s already been a week since I escaped from Pan, a few days longer than that since they first used the Dreamshade on me.”

No one speaks. 

Until: “So, that means we’re going to Neverland now, right?” The question everyone was thinking comes from Mary Margaret, to no one’s surprise. 

Everyone turns to Emma, and the pressure of it all sucks the air right out of her lungs, so she shrugs to give herself a moment to recompose. “I don’t think we have a choice. I’d like to think Killian at least has a fighting chance, from how his wounds have been reacting to my magic. It’s certainly something I’ve never witnessed before, and much different than anything we experienced with Jeff.” 

No one speaks, and Emma takes a moment to look around the room, her eyes landing on Regina last. 

She, unlike everyone else in the room, looks shocked. "What do you mean, how his wounds have been reacting to your magic? " she asks after another moment, her voice both intrigued and slightly scared. 

Emma, in turn, can’t keep her confusion off her face. "You mean your magic didn't react weirdly to his wound?" 

Regina shakes her head, moving slowly towards where Emma still sits next to Killian’s makeshift cot. "Show me." 

So Emma does, conjuring a small light between her hands before focusing on the wound in Killian’s side, where she is able to create the same crackling effect that happened before.

Regina says nothing, her wide eyes unmoving, set on Emma’s hands. Mary Margaret tries to shake her out of her trance, and it takes a minute to work before she turns away from them and rushes back upstairs, still without saying a word, and returning moments later with a small vial of a shining grey liquid, which she hands to Killian. 

"Drink this." 

He raises both eyebrows at her, then looks down at the bottle in his hand. "Pardon?" 

"Just do it." 

When he turns to David, he just shrugs, so he empties the vial into his mouth in a single swallow. Everyone is watching him intently, waiting for something to happen. 

But it doesn't. 

"Do that thing with your magic again," Regina whispers, as if afraid to speak too loudly and break some sort of spell. 

Emma listens, drawing her power up into her hand before focusing on Killian's wound — and this time, along with the crackling and sparking, she is able to pull a viscous black liquid from the wound, though it startles her and she loses focus, so it all disappears. 

Everyone turns their attention to Regina, who just stares wide-eyed at Killian's wound, terror written across her face. "We have to go to the Athenaeum" 

"Are you crazy? I can't go to Nephilysis," David argues, and Killian agrees. 

"There are already enough people looking for us as is." 

"There has to be another way," Mary Margaret tries. 

Regina shakes her head. "No, it's the only place we'll find answers.” She stops, looking down at her wristwatch. “And we need to go now ." 

David huffs. "What do you expect us to do? Just sit around and twiddle our thumbs until you get back?" 

Regina rolls her eyes, but Killian clears his throat. "We could go to the cabin, see if anyone else is there."

This time, David scoffs, his attention on his friend. “Wait, you think we should split up?" 

"That really seems like the only logical plan," Killian replies, obviously not thrilled with the idea, but knowing that it really is their best bet.

"You need to come with me," Regina says, pointing to Emma, who has stayed quiet through all of this. 

After sharing a glance with David, Mary Margaret reaches out to take Emma’s hand in hers. "I'm not letting you go with her alone.”

Regina rolls her eyes again, ignoring the spite in Mary Margaret’s voice. "We have to leave tonight," she says again. 

Emma nods, turning to David. After a moment, he nods, too, turning to Killian. "We shouldn't stay put for too long, either." 

It's a plan — well, more of one than they've had this far. 

"We'll take a week and meet back together before we go to Neverland."

“How do you even get to Neverland?” Mary Margaret asks, looking around the room in hopes of someone having the answer. 

“You have to fly,” Killian says, his voice soft, obviously far away. 

"And how the hell do we do that?" Emma asks. 

Killian smiles. 

TAGS: @shireness-says​​ @cssns​ @kmomof4​ @thisonesatellite​  @teamhook​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​​ @cocohook38​​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @facesiousbutton82​ @hollyethecurious​​ @stahlop​​ @tiguanasummertree  @angellifedeath​​ @pepperpottss​​ @mariakov81​​ @scientificapricot​​ @kday426​​ @xarandomdreamx​​ @ohmightydevviepuu​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @nikkiemms​​ @carpedzem​​ @superchocovian​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​ @snowbellewells​​ @courtorderedcake​​ @captain-emmajones​​ @killian-whump​​ @officerrogers​​ – want to be added or removed? let me know!

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Roses on the Doorstep

Summary: When Belle begins to receive tokens of affection from an anonymous admirer, she wonders who it might be. She thinks it might be Mr Gold, and she would be very happy to be proved right.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling​ prompt: Secret Admirer

Rated: G

Roses on the Doorstep

The first time the flowers appeared on the library doorstep, Belle was intrigued. They had definitely not been there the night before, and the fact that they were sitting in a jar of water meant that they had definitely been left with intent, and whoever had left them had wanted them to remain at their best.

It was a bouquet of six pink roses, tied with simple gardener’s twine. Belle had to wonder why they were there and who they were for. She was still staring at them when Marian came up behind her.

“Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer.”

Belle jumped at Marian’s voice and turned.

“Sorry, I was miles away.”

“No doubt thinking about who sent those lovely flowers.” Marian winked. “There’s a card, you know. The mystery might be solved in two seconds if you just look at it.”

“They might be for you,” Belle countered, but she nonetheless crouched by the makeshift vase, carefully taking out the flowers. “You work here too, you know.”

“Yes, but considering I’ve been married for five years, I’m unlikely to be getting roses from secret admirers.”

“It might not be secret. Maybe Robin decided to treat you.”

Marian raised an eyebrow. “No, he knows flowers aren’t really my thing. I’d prefer a fruit basket. Or chocolates. Or literally anything edible.”

Belle looked at the card, which simply said her name in neat letters.

“They’re for me,” she said.

“I told you so. Any indication who they’re from?”

“Nope.”

Marian came over and looked at the card.

“That’s no use, you can’t even tell from the writing; it’s just block printing. Still, half the fun is guessing, after all.”

Belle let Marian unlock the library and start setting up for the day’s custom inside. She sniffed the roses and smiled at their delicate scent. Red was the traditional colour, of course, but Belle had always preferred pink. Did whoever sent these know that, or was it by luck?

Eventually she went inside, sourcing a better vase than a jam jar and displaying the bouquet proudly on the issue desk.

“Do you think it might be Gaston?” Marian asked halfway through the morning. “You can’t deny that he’s into you.”

Belle groaned. “I hope not. I’m really not into him. I don’t think he’s the type to try wooing a girl with flowers though. He’s more likely to leave a stag he’s shot on the doorstep.”

“Yeah, I’ll give you that.” Marian laughed. “Maybe he’s turned over a new leaf and he wants to show you that he’s serious?”

“I don’t want him to be serious. I don’t want him at all, and I definitely don’t want him to think that buying me flowers means that quid pro quo I must sleep with him in return.”

“Ok, perhaps not Gaston,” Marian agreed. Belle wondered if she’d shocked her with her vehemence against him. “You’ll just have to wait and see if anything else turns up. After all, it’s all very well having a secret admirer, but it’s not going to go anywhere if they stay secret, is it?”

Belle had to admit that there was logic in Marian’s words.

“Perhaps, whoever it is, they’re shy. Maybe this is their way of gauging your interest. I mean, if they come back later and see that you’ve put the flowers straight in the bin, then they’ll know it’s pointless going any further and they’re spared the pain of rejection.”

There was slightly less logic in those words, and Belle decided that it would be best not to think on the identity of her benefactor too much more. Marian respected her silence and said no more on the topic until the end of the day, when she had a sort of eureka moment.

“I’ve got it!”

“What?”

“Ask your dad!”

“Ask him what?”

Marian jerked her thumb towards the flowers. “He’s the only florist in town, so the flowers must have come from him. All you have to do is ask him who bought pink roses in the last day or so.”

It was a sound idea, and Belle was torn between wanting to know the identity of her admirer and wanting to keep the intrigue going for a while longer. This was the kind of thing that happened all the time in her favourite romance novels – anonymous gifts sent to infatuated heroines who believed them to have come from the good-for-nothing cads that they admired, only for them to have come from the good, solid, dependable nice guy that she inevitably ended up with in the end.

Belle didn’t admire any cads and she couldn’t think of any dogged nice guys in the town, so in the end, her curiosity won out and she made her way to Game of Thorns after the library closed, taking the bouquet with her.

“Papa, who bought these?”

Moe shook his head. “I haven’t sold pink roses for days, love. They didn’t come from here.” He looked at the flowers. “Have you got yourself a secret admirer, then?”

“It certainly looks that way.”

“Good. It’s about time you took an interest in that side of things. You can’t be going on with just books for company, you know. It’s not healthy.”

Belle rolled her eyes; it was the age-old argument she’d had with her father for years.

“Just because someone’s interested in me, it doesn’t necessarily follow that I’m interested in them, you know.”

Moe pretended not to have heard and handed her the bouquet back. “Well, they didn’t come from here. It looks like they came straight off the bush.”

They said their goodbyes and Belle wandered back in the direction of home. She was no closer to finding her admirer’s identity, but she had another piece of the puzzle.

X

So, we’re looking for someone with a pink rose bush in their garden.” Marian leaned on the issue desk ponderously. It was the next day and another bouquet had appeared on the doorstep that morning. Belle had filled her in on Moe’s insights. “That narrows it down a bit, and it’s likely not Gaston, which I’m sure you’re pleased about.”

“No-one said that the admirer had to own the garden and the pink rose bush,” Belle pointed out. “I might be sitting here with looted flowers, you know.”

“What are we talking about? Oh, those roses are lovely, Belle.” Mary Margaret Nolan came over to the desk. “Where did you get them?”

“That’s what we’re talking about.” Marian grinned. “Belle has a secret admirer and so far all we know about them is that they have access to pink rose bushes.”

“Oh. You know, Mr Gold has beautiful pink rose bushes in his garden,” Mary Margaret said. “I can’t see anyone trying to steal them from him, though.”

“Yeah, there’s bravery and then there’s foolishness.”

Belle didn’t take in the rest of the conversation. Unlike the rest of the town, she had no grievance against Gold. He was a little bit scary sometimes, but he was always polite and gentlemanly towards her, and he was always very grateful for her help in procuring the obscure books that he needed for his antique restorations.

She took a moment to consider her feelings towards Mr Gold being her secret admirer, and she was surprised to find herself rather warming to the idea. He was certainly better than Gaston in every respect.

All the same, if it was Gold, Belle had to wonder why he had not just approached her in person: why this secretiveness? She had never really thought of him as a person lacking in confidence. Sure, he was quiet and tended to keep himself to himself when he wasn’t out rent collecting, but she had never thought of him as particularly shy.

Oh well. Crushes made everyone act differently, after all, and it might not even be him. He couldn’t be the only person in town with pink roses in their garden.

Still… Now that the thought was in her head, Belle couldn’t shake it, and once Mary Margaret had gone about her business and Marian was occupied with re-shelving, she opened the drawer where all of the inter-library acquisition requests were kept. Gold had filled out more than enough of them in the time that Belle had been working in the library.

She took the cards that had come with the flowers and compared the handwriting. The cards were much smaller and neater, and she only had five letters to work from, but there were definitely some similarities.

Belle shut the drawer, wondering what she should do with this new information. Perhaps it would be best to just let things run their course for a little while.

It was two weeks later that Belle’s suspicions were finally confirmed, having received four more anonymous bouquets in that time. It was the annual fundraising fun day at the library, and she had come early to get everything set up, only to find that Gold had beaten her to it. He was there on the step, depositing six pink roses tied with gardener’s twine.

“I thought it was you.”

Gold startled. “I, erm, Miss French. Good morning. I didn’t expect to see you here this early.”

Belle smiled. “Well, here I am. I’ve been wondering when I might receive a bouquet in person, you know.”

“I, erm…” Gold thrust the flowers at her unceremoniously. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Belle brought the roses up to her face, inhaling the scent. “They’re beautiful flowers and I’ve enjoyed receiving them and speculating on the identity of my secret admirer. I’m glad it was you.”

Gold gulped. “You- you are?”

Belle nodded. “Very much so. Although, now that you’re not so secret anymore, maybe we can move beyond the admiration into something more reciprocal?”

“I…” Gold seemed to be at a loss for words, which was very unlike him. Belle just giggled, leaning in to peck a soft kiss to his cheek before going to unlock the library, leaving Gold dumbfounded on the step.

Things seemed to be shaping up very nicely indeed.

[frozenartscapes]

Birds of a Feather

@patricia-von-arundel I dusted off an old WIP from the Power Moms AU. Ever since you introduced a cranky, one-eyed cat with a soft spot for Millie, I was thinking about other possibilities.

---

“Mama! Mama!”

“I’m here, little Love! Is everything alright?”

Upon hearing Millie’s frantic cries, Edelgard dropped everything and went running to the source. Millie had barely made it past the entrance of the palace before breaking into the desperate search for her Mama, and thankfully Edelgard had been nearby. 

The Emperor of Fodlan bowed to no one, yet in that moment she was on her knees in an instant - the moment she had closed the space between her and her daughter. She reached for her baby, beginning a thorough inspection to ensure Millie wasn’t hurt. It was hard to tell, because Millie was still blubbering and crying as if she was, but there were no obvious signs of trauma.

“It’s...it’s not me, Mama!” Millie managed to stammer out, rubbing away some tears and snot from her face with an arm, “Come! She needs you!”

“Who does? Millie?” Edelgard demanded, “What’s wrong? Is your Mom alright? Where is she?”

“Mom’s out this way. She didn’t want to leave her. Come on, Mama! We need you!” Millie grabbed Edelgard’s hand and before any protest could be made, the little girl was dragging the Emperor out of the palace and into the expansive, impressive gardens surrounding it.

Millie dragged her pretty far. Well past the manicured hedges and shrubs, past the roses bushes and flower beds, past the fountains and the large ornamental pond. They even went well beyond the little cottage set deep on the estate as a private getaway for the royal family without actually having to leave the capital.

Millie led her into the wooded part of the garden, a part that was far wilder and more natural than the rest. Trees grew untrimmed and unmaintained, bushes and vines spread along the forest floor, a few well-worn paths snaked through the undergrowth, but otherwise, it was completely untouched.

“This way! They’re just over here!”

“Millie, Sweetheart, are you going to tell me what it is that’s gotten you so-” Edelgard stopped mid-sentence, upon arriving in a clearing and spotting Byleth standing near the far edge, looking very torn up about something. “...Worked up...”

“El,” Byleth greeted as they met up. Her voice was uncharacteristically heavy, even comparing it to her voice before gaining a heartbeat. “We...we found something.”

Edelgard swallowed hard. Her stomach dropped as she thought of all the possible discoveries Byleth could have made that would warrant such a reaction from her. She made her way over carefully, and as she drew near her eyes landed on the horrific sight.

Two golden-crowned eagles, the national birds of Adrestia, shot dead by blackened arrows. They had clearly been mates, given how the normally solitary birds had died so close to each other. But what made it worse was the scattered remains of their once grand nest all over the ground. Sticks and twigs and grass lay strewn about, and amidst the carnage, were the remains of the eaglets.

Edelgard gasped in horror, hand shooting up to her mouth. She took a shaky step back out of panic. Thankfully Byleth was there to steady her.

“We found this on our way back from fishing,” Byleth told her wearily, nodding to the fishing poles laying nearby, “I think it...”

The idea hung in the air, heavy and foreboding. Golden-crowned eagles were rare birds, and were one of the few protected by no-hunting laws in Adrestia. They also held such an image of pride that no Adrestian would ever think to kill one. Given that they were the symbol of Adrestia, and the Emperor herself, this brutal massacre could only mean something sinister.

Edelgard’s mind immediately went to the current leading threat to her Empire. “Thales,” she growled, “Leave it to him to send a message...”

“You think it was him?” Byleth asked worriedly, “Why bother killing a family of birds when he could just...”

“He couldn’t ‘just’,” Edelgard stated, her voice low and firm, “He knows if he even gets close to my family I’ll-”

“Mama!” Millie came running up to her side. She had split away when they arrived at the clearing, and Edelgard had been so preoccupied with Byleth she failed to see where her little one had gone. But now Millie reappeared, cradling something close to her chest. “Mama, she needs you!”

Edelgard frowned, and she cast a quick glance at Byleth. Byleth winced slightly, before giving a small, confirming nod. Edelgard knelt down to meet her daughter, and Millie carefully revealed what she had in her arms.

It was just a little scrap of a thing, fluffy feathers slicked and ruffled by blood and dirt, wings crooked, legs broken, beak chipped, clinging barely to life...

At first she thought it was dead.

“She needs you, Mama,” Millie told her desperately, holding the baby eagle out to her Mama with tears in her eyes, “You can fix her.”

“I...” Edelgard had already had this experience with a grumpy little kitten. But that kitten, despite its torn ear and blinded eye, had been in much better shape.

Millie pushed the eaglet into her hands, carefully. It was so small, so broken. Edelgard swallowed hard, watching the poor creature struggle even to breathe. “I can try, my little Love, but...” she said hesitantly, looking to Byleth for help. Byleth merely shrugged, also at a complete loss.

“I know you can save her, Mama - just like you saved me,” Millie said with a sniffle.

Millie sure knew how to tug on her heartstrings. Ever so gently, she repositioned the tiny eagle in her hands to make sure it would be more comfortable. She wasn’t the best healer in the world, but she still called for a healing spell, if anything to help with whatever pain it might be in. She turned to Byleth, and said softly, “When we get back, can you call for Marianne, and perhaps Hapi? They’ll know more about this sort of thing than I will.”

Byleth nodded. “Of course, El,” she replied. She then frowned, gaze falling to the horrors on the ground before them. “And...what about...”

Edelgard drew a deep breath. “We’ll bury them in the morning,” she promised, “Whoever did this will pay, I’ll make sure of it. But right now...” She glanced down at the weak little eagle in her hands. “Right now the living need more attention than the dead.”

---

No one had good news at first. An Imperial falconer had told them the eaglet would be lucky to live more than a few weeks. A veterinarian told them it might live for longer, but it would never fly again, or be able to hunt.

Marianne had tried to be the most optimistic, if anything for Millie’s sake, but even she didn’t have high hopes that the poor creature would have either a long, or pain-free life. Hapi was perhaps a little more blunt, but had a similar diagnosis.

Five weeks after finding her, she was already gaining her flight feathers. And was ready to use them.

At this point, Edelgard had grown completely accustomed to the fledgling scampering across her desk and attempting to hop to her shoulder as she worked. She barely flinched anymore as the little eagle clambered over her, got herself into a good position, then attempted to glide down to the floor. She was shaky, but improving with each try.

“Are you certain you don’t wish for me to fetch the falconer, your Majesty?” Hubert had asked her once, when the eaglet was still mostly a ball of soft fluff and refused to leave the safety of her shoulder.

“No, it’s alright,” Edelgard sighed in defeat, “She’s thoroughly imprinted on me, and I’d rather not distress her.” She reached a hand up to gently stop the eaglet from preening her hair. That had become a favoured sign of affection from the little raptor.

She felt that same action again. The eagle had grown significantly, though nowhere near its full size. But still, when she decided to preen the Emperor she saw as her Mama, she no longer merely messed a few strands but rather threatened to ruin her entire hairdo. She had to stop wearing her horns as a result.

“Ellie!” Millie’s joyful cry thankfully captured the eagle’s attention, and without hesitation, she rather ungracefully flew toward the little girl.

“You’re getting so good at that, Ellie!” Millie praised, stroking Ellie’s feathers. Ellie seemed to melt at the touch.

“She certainly has had plenty of practice,” Edelgard stated, glancing up to spot Byleth entering the room behind Millie.

“Come on, Ellie! Aunt Mari says it might be good for you to try flying where there’s more space, so let’s go out to the gardens!” Millie and the eagle were off like a shot, both excitedly heading toward the back doors.

Byleth smiled as she watched them go. She then turned to her wife, who seemed torn about getting up to go follow. “Need a break, El?” she asked, knowing all the Emperor needed was an invitation.

“I think I can allow a small one,” Edelgard said with a sigh, pretending as if she still wanted to do paperwork for appearance only. Just in case Hubert was around.

Byleth held out one arm, and Edelgard slipped her own through the loop. The pair walked out together, following after their daughter at a leisurely pace. They found Millie out in one of the grassy lawns - the one with a single statue of Emperor Wilhelm standing proudly in the middle of it, one arm extended as he points to the future. Ellie the Eagle was perched on said arm, pacing up and down the length of it as she worked up the courage to fly to Millie.

Edelgard couldn’t hide the surge of pride as she watched the little eagle soar across the lawn. She wasn’t perfect, not yet. But one day she will be strong and fearless.

“Good work, Ellie!” Millie praised as the eagle landed on her arm.

“I’m still not so sure about that name,” Edelgard said to Byleth, who could not to contain her wide grin, “It seems a little...on the nose.”

“And ‘Dimitri’ for a one-eyed, lion-looking cat isn’t?” Byleth asked with a smirk.

Edelgard shrugged in response.

“I think it’s perfect,” Byleth continued, “A little Eagle, the only survivor of the brutal massacre of her family, who now is growing and healing and ready to soar to new and wondrous heights despite all that pain and trauma? If anything, ‘Ellie’ might be too vague.”

Edelgard sighed, though her soft smile gave away her true feelings. “‘Ellie’ is the eagle’s nickname, and you know that.”

---

AN: I’m back with another Power Moms story! I always wanted to write something where El rescues a baby eagle, because symbolism!

Also I’ve had this idea for a while now where the gardens of Enbarr’s Imperial Palace closely resemble the gardens at the Palace of Versailles, so I snuck in a bit of that here, too. I like to think that eventually, Edelgard opens up the palace and gardens to the public to allow everyone to enjoy the space.

[copias-thrall]

Hey, I love your writing! If you’re taking requests, I was wondering how you think Mary Goore would be like in bed with a female (or trans male) S/O who’s on their period? Since the boy likes blood so much...😝 but if that makes you uncomfortable and you don’t want to write it I totally understand! I hope you have a lovely day! ❤️

Aww, thanks, sweet anon! It doesn’t make me uncomfortable—apologies for taking so long to get to your ask!

Mary loves blood AND he has a fluid kink—your period isn’t going to phase him one bit. In fact, you’ll probably have to stop him from going to town if you’re sore and uncomfortable and don’t want his attentions down there.

The first time, you’d put in a tampon, but he’d just tugged it out—why would you deprive him of the good stuff?! He’s not going to slurp up your bloody discharge, mind you … but he’d rather have the taste of you—metallic or otherwise—unfiltered as he eats you out, and he loves seeing his mouth and chin smeared with your blood afterwards.

Be prepared, because he will try to kiss you as is. (If it squicks you out, he loves trolling you; if you’re into it—even better!)

In terms of fucking, he almost prefers it. If you’re up for it, he loves the extra wet squish as he fucks you. Who needs lube when there’s your blood to ease the way? Plus, you’re extra sensitive down there during this time, and he’s always ready to make you cum hard. You know he’s into blood and gore and guts, and period viscera is no exception—he loves seeing your clots cling to his dick and mat in his pubic hair. In fact, he wants his curls as wet with your blood as possible so he can rub it in and spread it around. 

Don’t think too hard about why he’s thrilled to be covered in your blood.

You stopped warning him of your flow ages ago—he has his own tracker for your cycle, and he’ll crawl through your window if he has to, to get at that good shit.

He finds you writhing from the cramps, but he knows how to make you feel better. He climbs into bed with you, his hand traveling down to your folds. You’re already bleeding heavily, your thighs coated, but Mary wants you even juicier. He circles your already-sensitive clit, and you jerk at the shock of his touch. If you don’t want him shoving 2 fingers into you, tell him now!—he’ll slip them in, then pull them out so he can stare at the way his 2 digits slide against each other with your blood.

Mary can be pretty mercurial about sex—sometimes it’s all about his dick and how fast he can use your body to get off; other times it seems a point of pride to get you off as much as possible. You at your most sensitive is definitely the latter. You’re whining from the period pain, but also now from the intense throb Mary is eking out of your clit with his clever fingers.

“I heard orgasms can ease cramps,” he breaths into your ear. “Let’s see how many it takes.”

You’re definitely torn: on one hand, all you want to do is be left in peace to bleed quietly; on the other—you know that if you can bear the oversensitivity, you could gain at least 10min of respite. It’s a painful sort of pleasure—more an easing of pain than good feelings. Mary revels in how you jerk and squirm against him as he brings you to climax again and again, your blood and slick mixing to coating both you and his hand. 

Once you’re panting and a mite more relaxed, that’s when Mary makes his move. There's still a dull discomfort, but the unrelenting throb has eased somewhat, and now you’re soft and open. Mary kicks off his jeans—he wants to make sure his thighs get coated. His dick has been hard since he saw your blood on his fingers, and now he coats it with your bloody slick before sliding it into you.

Usually he’s one to get to pounding into you right away, but now his back bows and his eyes close in a rapturous expression, a smile on his lips. You’re feeling gross and bloated, but at least you can always count on Mary to make you feel desirable. You moan and clench involuntarily around him, causing him to dig his grimy fingernails into your sides before he starts thrusting into you. 

He goes slowly at first, almost pulling all the way out before diving back in up to the hilt. After the first couple pumps, he looks down to where his dick is disappearing into your body and lets out a pleased grunt. It’s almost like you don’t exist while he’s watching, enthralled, as your bloody mucus coats his dick. He’s still Mary, though, so it’s not too long before he starts to speed up, his hips slapping hard into your body.

“Mary,” you whine. You’re still pretty sore.

“Fuck. But you feel good.”

“Not so hard.”

Mary grumbles, but stops pounding into you at least. Now instead of deep, hard pounds, he’s fucking you with short, quick thrusts. His eyes are once again drawn to where his cock joins you.

“If I press down on your stomach, do you think more will squirt out of you?”

“Do you want to lose your dick?”

“You’re no fucking fun. Oh shit , but you’re slick.”

He’s panting at the strain of not letting go like he usually does, but you can feel his cock beginning to harden further. You glance down and muse that he already looks like he’s lost his dick with how much of your blood is now on his pelvis and upper thighs.

“You look like you’re covered in gore,” you say.

Mary moans, his fingers digging deeper.

“Fuck. I’m gonna bust in you.”

His hips stutter, and then he’s giving a sharp thrust into you with a hissed Shit fuck. You try not to laugh at his “O Face” as his hips jerk and twitch into you. He stays frozen like that for a minute—hands grasping, mouth gaping—before he falls off you to the side. Chest heaving, he lies for a moment with his arm over his eyes before he looks down at himself—from his hips down to the tips of his thighs, he’s covered in bloody mucus and clots. Reverently, he runs his fingertips through the mess, smearing it this way and that to his liking.

“Satisfied?” you ask wryly.

He looks back and you and grins wolfishly.

“I’m not leaving here until I can see my jizz mixed into what’s leaking out of you.”

His hand travels back down to in between your folds. 

“But I bet I can make you cum a few more times first.”

[angryhausfrau-writes]

I Travel Troubled Oceans: Chapter 10 - In Which Jack Hosts A Fashion Show

Jack is finally ready for his first runway show, after months of work and agonizing over every small detail and making sure he keeps up appearances as a flighty party boy with enough money that he doesn't need to have talent or ambition.

But he's honestly quite proud of how everything has turned out. He's tailored the runway fashions for the trendy, upscale gallery that's hosting the show, of course, so everything is very modern and very stark. There are a lot of geometric shapes, structured collars, plunging triangular necklines and sideslits, things like that. Lots of metallic black fabrics.

It's all very cyberpunk dystopia - but chic. Because the upper echelons of society will commodify and romanticize everything, including the surveillance state.

It does appear to be a successful strategy, however. Mary has been taking pictures of his work throughout the process. Pictures that are framed to hint, to tantalize, but not to actually reveal anything. And there's been significant hype building around the show. Some of the backstage photos from the runway rehearsal have even appeared in the society sections of various newspapers. Which nobody really reads anymore, but Jack's Instagram account has simultaneously blown up, so that's probably a better indication that he's on the right track with this designer nonsense.

And he's had no trouble filling seats at the show itself. Since it's all rich assholes in attendance, they'd never do anything so gauche as to charge admission, but there's an understanding that everyone who attends the event will provide a hefty (and tax deductible, after some creative accounting) donation to both the art gallery and Jack's little design company. And Kaylen has used her extensive network of snooty art acquaintances to make sure there are plenty of critics in the audience, which should help get his name out there in the fashion world so he can start broadening their field of influence.

So the last thing that remains to be done is to personally invite the Councilor to the show. Not only because Jack is trying to develop a deeper friendship with him (and thereby cement his influence over any and all planning decisions) but also because Max wants to form another sort of relationship with Councilor Featherstone. Ie. she wants one of her girls to start “dating” the esteemed Councilor and whispering sweet nothings about their competitors into his ear instead of pillow talk. Which is also why Jack's throwing an after party at his house where the invitees can mingle with the models, get to know them a little better.

Jack had initially been rather uncomfortable with this plan. Mostly because he doesn't like people in his house messing up his things. But also because this feels just slightly skeevy in a way he hasn't been before. He's a con and a killer and a dealer, but he's not a pimp.

But when he'd talked to the girls about this plan, they'd seemed surprised at his reservations. One girl - Jackie – had even asked if the Councilor was, quote, wicked and seemed disappointed when Jack told her he had the sexual charisma of a bowl of lukewarm oatmeal. And Jack supposes it's their job, so they know what they're getting themselves into.

So he finds himself at the office building downtown (a pricey piece of real estate if Jack's ever seen one) to personally extend the glossy black invitation to both fashion show and after party to Councilor Featherstone. Who apparently has not yet grasped e-vites as a concept. And anyway, it's the personal touch that leaves a lasting impression.

And Charles has elected to accompany Jack, for whatever reason. He seems familiar with desk security and the building layout at least. Which is, perhaps, suspicious. As are the wary glances Councilor Featherstone's second in command – a man who's doing much what Max wants them to do in terms of filtering exactly what proposals actually reach the Councilor's desk, although his criteria for acceptance is more in line with being rich and titled and not a dirty foreigner - keeps giving Charles through Featherstone's glass door.

Charles's self satisfied smirk is not particularly encouraging either.

But he'd rather have any potential adversaries cowed as apposed to actively antagonistic. And Counselor Featherstone is more than happy to receive an invitation to his good friend Jack's debut fashion show. With front row seats to ensure that he gets a good look at all the models as they parade past on the catwalk. And Max's second sitting next to him - because Featherstone doesn't seem like the sort to approach a woman of his own volition and they'll need some indication of who to throw at him later tonight.

Jack's stupid fashion show is giving Anne a bitch of a headache. He's running around backstage in a fucking tizzy, because someone's makeup isn't quite right or they're wearing the wrong style of jewelry or a dozen other fucking things. And Anne's supposed to be coordinating this mess – as if that's fucking possible.

At least she's good at glaring and rude hand gestures. That appears to be all that's required to get the DJs – some poor fucks Max has by the balls – to get their shit set up and now there's some pumping electronic shit going as all the rich fucks mingle and drink cocktails, waiting for the show to start.

Fortunately, Eme'd been the one to recommend the caterers and other than pointing towards the kitchen and telling them when the show starts, she hasn't had to deal with them. And Mary's running around taking pictures of all the models and dresses and shit but she spares Anne a quick smile whenever they cross paths. So it could be worse.

And then Anne's pressed into lining up all the models in order and cuing when they're supposed to go out, so she's too busy to hear Jack's little speech at the start of the show. But by the polite applause he gets, it's a pretty good one – always been silver tongued, Jack has, and that ain't changed any with this new venture.

And it turns out he's pretty good at the whole designer thing too, which had been a surprise. Anne doesn't think much of the outfits – completely impracticable and all ugly weird dresses - but all these posh idiots are eating this shit up, if you take into account the fact that rich people excitement is a lot less loud than normal people excitement. The after party is sure to loosen them up, at least.

Jack slumps against the wall, absolutely exhausted. The fashion show had gone well, with several of the critics and many of the various high society invitees coming up to congratulate him afterwards. He's the darling of the upper crust for a night.

And in order to cement that for the future, he's in the process of throwing the mother of all parties – champagne, blow, stupid finger foods with gold leaf on them. The sort of club music that keeps coked up partiers on the dancefloor all night. And it's all getting to be a bit much.

Anne and Mary have already disappeared upstairs to bed, and Jack dearly wishes he could join them. Or at least meander in their general direction – he doubts they want him in their bed. Particularly because they're probably not even attempting to sleep what with all the noise downstairs.

And Jack doesn't really feel like laying awake for hours in his empty bed while Anne and Mary fuck down the hall, even if he wasn't bound by his persona to stay until the party ended or the sun rose. And it's starting to look like sunup will be the earlier of the two conditions, so it's just as well he's a jobless layabout who can sleep all day tomorrow.

At least Counselor Featherstone looks to be having fun with Idelle, all tucked into a sort of quiet corner with her and staring shamelessly at her tits. Which are quite noticeable in the dress she's wearing, to be fair. But Jack doesn't particularly want to spend his night thinking about that either.

So he turns on his heel and weaves through the crowd until he's reached the French doors leading to the little patio out back. He needs a minute – just one minute – of quiet and calm. Just a minute to catch his breath before he heads back into the heaving throng.

He walks out to the edge of the lawn and lets out a long sigh, head tipped towards the heavens.

“Get sick of the party, Jack?”

Charles emerges from the dark, only the glowing cherry of his cigar lighting his face, making his eyes gleam in a way that would be terrifying if Jack didn't know him so well.

But he does know Charles, so he just turns toward him, slumps against him in exhaustion. “I'll admit, it's a little harder to make it through these things without enough blow to keep an entire 80's office building supplied.”

Charles grins. “Or you're just getting old.”

“And what does that say about you, Chaz?” Jack leans back to look him in the eye. “You're the one out here in the dark all by yourself. Maybe you're the one getting too old for this shit.”

Charles eyes the house and all the guests making a disgusting mess all over Jack's fancy furniture. It's unbelievable, and he's spent his whole life, minus the last few months, living on the streets or in derelict drug dens.

“Don't know that I was ever young enough for this particular shit. Want to pretend to be desperate for a fuck and go hide upstairs?”

Jack considers it for a long moment, torn between responsibility to Max and his desire to escape the party. But fear of Max wins out – she can make is life awfully difficult. And that's without Anne giving him unimpressed looks on her behalf.

“Want to pretend to make out on the dancefloor instead?”

Charles grins. “Ok, but don't get pissy at me for grabbing your ass.” And he proceeds to steer Jack into the house and out into the middle of the dancefloor by doing just that, to the cheers and wolf whistles of everyone close enough to understand what he's doing.

Which is a fair number, because Charles is not exactly known for being subtle. And then he sticks his tongue down Jack's throat.

“I hope you know this means I'm spending tomorrow braiding your hair in retaliation,” Jack growls at him, when he's finally let up for air. “And I will give you pigtails.”

Charles just laughs, so apparently it's not a enough of a threat. Jack will find something truly menacing at some point. He swears.

[prairiedust]

Gimme Shelter livewatch under the cut.... I was on my phone when I wrote it so apologies for the typos

“Patchwork Community Center: Care Given to All” with a huge, lurid heart. Hmmm.... patchwork having two meanings here.....

Pastor (?) has 2 Timothy 2:22 tattooed on his arm! “Flee the evil desires of youth and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, along with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart.” (NIV) Are we looking at growth and found family in this episode?!?

Oh that’s the alleyway!

Hitting mythology themes— Connor is an Anglicized version of an Irish name— Conchobar mac Nessa is maybe the most famous bearer of the name, from Irish mythology— he’s the king who lusted after Deirdre and had her locked up until she came of age, which is probably neither here nor there as far as this poor Connor is concerned...

That thing has a big lurid heart on his overalls better run lol— Oh shit it’s an evil Teddy Ruxpin!!!! Thanks Davy Perez!!!!

That’s the thing animal control uses to manage aggressive animals??? Is this saying something about the Patchwork people?

And that’s it for the cold open.

——

The uh, the mcfuckin what, the Camelot Palace Casino? Is this a tour of the legends of Ireland and Britain all of a sudden? What’s with hitting this theme so hard so fast?

Uh-oh the whole Highway to Heaven reference has me side-eyeing Dean’s suggestion for Cas snd Jack to leave the bunker... Dabb even “spoiled” that line in a tweet lol... in that show the cop and the angel got their (vague) assignments from the big guy.......

Oh SHIT “we’re standing in what I call ‘the trap zone’” Perez is coming for my whole life with this episode!!!! And they’re doing highkey “season one totally-normal Winchester investigation questions script” I love it!!!!

“Slasher flick” Oh we’re revisiting Mint Condition. This is fine.

AND TOMBSTONE THIS IS NOT FINE DAVY! We’re running the good times backwards what did I say about this being the flipside of Last Holiday!

H2H again but this time it’s sus... plus I’m with Zack, I totally want the cozy murder spinoff I imagined Adam and Michael doing plz

Oh the Cas and Jack dynamic here is so sweet.

Pastor just leaving his door open like there’s no such thing as a thief bless his heart. They must be torn up about Connor but Pastor was the last one to talk to him so he’s sus I don’t make the rules.

Oh no Red’s a THIEF!!! Who ever would have guessed. Okay I did NOT expect that jumpscare because of the way Connor’s murder primed me, that was masterfully done.

That’s vaguely an Ohio Star quilt square on the sign behind her except um I forget what that tilted square in the center turns it into? It’s chiming with something... I’ll have to look that up later.

“Divide and conquer” no never split up in a slasher movie that’s how you get murders use the buddy system!

Gonna stop a sec because I just realized that Zack is two-faced. The British dandy was an act. The killer is wearing a Cinderella mask. Ok I’m gonna make a prediction that Zack is actually the killer, a la the demon in Repo Man...

Okay there was definitely a beat after Dean said “Glad soneone’s taking charge” [ofHell] and the focus shifted to Sam. Hm.

“We’ve got to set her up for her own death” so meta, these writers are gonna shred us.

I love being shown how much Castiel has changed throughe Jack not understanding the Kool-Aid reference. And the cats line lol. That’s both amazing and poignant.

That’s a log cabin pattern in the cafeteria. Home. Makes me think back on other quilts we’ve seen this season and if “weaving” is the right metaphor for writing lol. I mean, the action of “patching” is synonymous with “mending” or even healing, but patchwork is also a craft with a long, long history in America (idk if quiltmaking is called patchwork everywhere) of taking a few often mismatched fabrics and cutting and sewing into something beautiful. There are generally two kinds of quilt tops— patterns, like we’ve seen so far in this season, which are carefully planned and involve precise measurements, and “crazy quilts” which also require skill but are often more freeform and piecemeal. But both aspire to be beautiful. That’s an interesting way to conceptualize a serial text... as both creating and mending....

That prayer was sweet and not at all what I was expecting.

I get the finger-cutting for Valerie (stealing=sticky fingers) but not for Connor? Tenuous connection still betw lying and writing? It’s evocative of Se7en but the killer seems to have the same MO for all the killings (I attended CSI for a while.)

Snow White is making me uneasy. Oh she’s the preacher’s daughter... we’ve seen that in early days, too.... oh.... oh....

It’s not the AV guy despite having seen all the AV equipment around Valerie. That’s too easy.

“A saint is a sinner who keeps trying-“ no scroll back, the important part was “we all have to take care of each other.” That’s a theme in the series.

She’s all in pink....

dean and amara on the same wavelength about food lol

Ha ha inversion of “oh you’re a fan of religion? name all seven gods then.”

Castiel’s testimony just wrecked me.

“Members serve the gift of food” hmmm the signs in this episode are tip-top

Gonna just watch for a while.

Oh crap “each is a finger” oh it’s about the sins of the father— No Cas no, you’ve fallen for the misdirection!

Oh okay good, Chuck’s not done snuffing worlds. That had me REALLY WORKED UP ha ha because Amara has no reason to lie right?

That was a really good conversation.... and implying that Former Death bent the truth...

Oh fuck I’m gonna cry “I wanted younto see that your mother was just a person” YES! DISMANTLE THIS MYTHOLOGY AMARA!!! Name it!

THE MYTH THAT YOU’D HELD ON TO FOR SO LONG did they just— THEY DID

rigging the game— ftfoh with the casino metaphors already we know the house always wins except when it doesn’t

Lying, lying, lying,

Do we even know Snow White’s name yet? And why was Connor a liar? Because I think we can make a guess at this point.... ah ha ha her name is sylvia— “forest spirit” she’s Mrs Butters— and she’s after hypocrites— but the killing isn’t supernatural, just churchy?

Oh shit SHE IS A DEAN MIRROR IF SHE STABS JACK I’LL FLIP A DAMN TABLE

....

....

prairiedust.exe has encountered an error and must be restarted

....

....

Okay so “Dad” steps in and stops Sylvia’s attack on Jack...

Why is that Zack? What????

“I’ve been lying to you” oh here we go

Oh it would be death #3, remember what Dabb said about threes a long time ago, two attempts that are unsuccessful and one that satisfies the parameters— but no he’s a jack :((((

I have to stop watching for a while.

Okay I finished it. Holy cats do I have some Thoughts about this episode.

What I loved: Revisiting Dean’s anger, BUT the parental mirror here (in retrospect, at least for me) was a John mirror-- all the mothers (exc for Rowena) in this episode are dead. And Pastor Joe didn’t apparently embrace his wife’s faith until she had died, and then his vision was radically different than his wife’s was-- much like John’s reasons for becoming a hunter were vastly different from Mary’s... but much like “patching” this subtext was possibly even more “healing” than having John back in the 300th ep... This was... looking at a child’s anger when they’re in the middle of their own family mythology. Am I implying that Dean’s anger is immaturity? Eh, it’s... unripeness. I have an old meta in my drafts about the heroine’s journey and why Mary’s story conformed to it while feeling totally unfulfilling in her actual character arc and I’m so glad I sat down and examined that rather than finish it. I have a lot I want to say about Cas’ testimony too, but that has to sit a while. ALSO also, Cas has already thrown away his shot by making the Empty deal, right?....

LANGUAGE! Cas saying “I found myself lost” is a bonkers sentence, right? It’s like when people say someone “turned up missing”-- AND it does not have the same meaning as “I realized I was lost”-- you get a double whammy of the connotation “to search for.” I loved loved loved how language was such a big deal in Last Holiday and then again here, I need to rewatch while paying closer attention to Sylvia and things she says... but these two were sister episodes in so many ways, that when I said there was a “lack of narrative mirrors” in Last Holiday, that’s only because the lens for that kind of reading is Gimme Shelter. That is not the first time spn has played with a “coin” or paired structure-- I think the first time I noticed it was Fan Fiction/Ask Jeeves but I was a transfer student from another fandom at the time lol. But of course, we get a huge truth bomb at the end of the episode, and again that splashy cymbal all over lying...

What I got wrong-- Zack wasn’t the killer but he’s fishy as hell-- he stole Sylvia! Is this part of Rowena’s “people generally end up where they deserve to be” except she’s built in an express lane? “Do you need a driver” is that his actual job now? Taking unripe souls to Hell Orientation? What’s up with him being there... the other shoe did not drop. So there is a third episode out there somewhere where this might get wrapped up? The conversation between Dean and Cas can easily be something that happens offscreen, and I don’t think that it would be the first time we miss an “important” conversation, especially since we know roughly what will be said and how it will wrap up-- it’s an “open text” of a sort. Maybe a fanfiction gap lol, I can’t wait for the codas.

Also, the fingers thing being Sylvia’s father’s favorite analogy is where she got her MO, something that I definitely didn’t see, although it fits right in with her father’s slightly pithy character. I think it’s interesting again how we’re playing with threes and fours. Three fingers got cut off but it was apparent that Valerie (valorious one) wouldn’t die until finger #4.... Jack really seems to be our last hope.

[holly-mckenzie]

bitch! since no one asked you, I'll ask you myself! What is happening to your version of Sana, Noora, and whoever else you have done an absurd amount of research + written an entire essay about

wow its almost like I sent this message to myself! thanks “anon”

I know, I know, you’re probably thinking... Erica, how are you going to tell your version of Sana in an Indian, Malaysian, and Turkish context (especially because all of ‘em countries either are Muslim Nations or have a Muslim community...) to which I say: BEHOLD! 

9. Introduce us to your version of Sana

GERAM (SKAM Malaysia) : Kalifa Ahmed (name subject to change)

So, here’s the thing... Making Geram!Sana Malaysian makes absolutely no sense, especially because of the overall Muslim population. So I figure that there are three versions to do it 1) make her of another faith (which is tricky), 2) Make her not be Muslim enough, (she doesn’t wear her Hijab, interacts with dogs, has gay friends etc...) 3) or three which is the option I will be going with.

Kalifa Ahmed is a Somali-Malaysian (I haven’t decided if I want to make her half-Malay, half-Somali, or a Somalian who has emigrated to Malaysia). Kalifa, much like Sana is super close to her family, especially her mother. Kalifa enjoys playing the football/soccer and is the member of the group that says it as it is (think SKAM NL Imaan). She’s a bit rough around the edges from all of the things she has faced in life, however, she is super sarcastic and funny. She is super independent, so a thing that I want her season to focus on is her friends realising that she is more than the “strong-Black-woman” and does need help. 

Kalifa constantly feels ostracised from the Malaysian population, due to the large anti-Black sentiment that is rampant in Malaysian. Thus, as a product, Kalifa is very close to her family, due to all the racism that they face on a daily basis. This includes ”racial preferencing” when it comes to apartment hunting, to people avoiding them in public, and constantly hearing racist comments made towards them. 

Before the show starts, Kalifa had a close friend in the character of Jamila. Jamila would probably either be a character that Kalifa met in the apartment that she lives in or to the refugee school that she went too (in Malaysia refugees aren’t allowed to attend national schools and must attend refugee schools). They became fast friends, bonding over their shared experiences of facing racism on a daily basis. However, Jamila feels betrayed by Kalifa for “leaving” her to become friends with the Girl Gang. Jamilla is incredibly hurt by it, especially because Jamilla thinks that Kalifa lets GERAM!Vilde gets away with being casually racist. However, Kalifa, feels pressure because though she does speak out about the racism she faces, she knows that she could face backlash for it. Especially since if you are a foreign worker in Malaysia, you can face deportation for speaking about the injustice. This is one of the reasons that both Kalifa and Jamila don’t like  Geram!Vilde, because Kalifa feels like the prejudice that Geram!Vilde has, goes against their shared Islamic faith. 

An aspect of this that I would really want to touch on is the fact that Kalifa doesn’t face the same sort of “tension” that og Sana faces between having to choose between the secular world and Islam (because that makes no sense in Malaysia. Also, I thought the love triangle was stupid, so it won’t be happening.). Instead, Kalifa is torn because, she feels finally “settled” in Malaysia, however, her family, in particular, her brother, wants to go back/seek refugee status somewhere else (This is my version of the Sana-Yusaf-Noora love triangle). However, this all comes to head when her brother is attacked when he is going to the Mosque (which will replace the whole Elias punching Isak plot). With this we will see, just how ingrained into Malaysian culture anti-Black sentiment is. This will end, with her parents deciding, really deciding to seek refugee status somewhere else (which will replace the Yusaf leaving plot). 

* tw for the season : pain/angst, racism, hate crimes, Islamaphobia

** additional notes: Kalifa is probably really close to Nor (my version of Noora) and they are super cute (e.g. - they fix each other’s Hijab and stuff... it’s ducking adorable). Also, the show will focus on Ramadan (though that’s boring I know)... However, instead of having Kalifa invite the girls to Hari Raya, Nor’s family invites Kalifa’s to their house. (You get the idea that because Kalifa’s family is so ostracised from the community, that this act is super important because they are finally being invited in... Also, Nor’s mom tries to cook Somali food and it's hella cute). Lastly, Geram!Yusaf, is a Sabahan Muslim. He volunteers at the refugee school that I mentioned earlier (hence his whole being good with kids thing). He is also lowkey an activist and is thus, really educated in racism and stuff. One of the reasons that Kalifa falls for him, is because he doesn’t put up with the casual jokes by his friends, and instead corrects them. 

Okay, so I haven’t actually thoroughly throughout the rest of my Sana’s... Partially, because I’m not well educated on the countries/religions etc. So here’s a brief summary:

Mó Bafão (SKAM Brasil): Monica (name subject to change)

Monica is a young Afro-Brasileira (Afro-Brasilian) woman. Monica practices the religion Candomblé, and thus faces a lot of prejudice from her peers for firstly, being Black (because racism and against Black people is a thing in Brasil, regardless of what Josh Boone may think). However, the other prejudice comes from the facts that her peers are mostly Christian and Catholic and see Candomblé as a heathen religion. Thus, due to that belief, many of her peers have grown up learning to avoid signs of the Candomblé faith (e.g. - orange coloured strips of fabric near a tree, or a specific arrangement of "ingredients" or tools). Much like Sana, Monica feels torn between two worlds. However, unlike Sana what it really comes down to is colonialism. Monica has really seen how the Christian/Catholic faith has affected Brasilian society, and how Brasil is still very much facing the consequences of colonialism (the post-colonial hangover is a real thing guys). 

SKAM TURKÏYE : Sera

Sera is Turkish-Armenian. Sera comes from a family where her family is super supportive of all of her dreams and goals. She is the mom friend of the group and constantly wants to care for everyone. She is Armenian and thus the prejudice that she faces is largely tied to the denial and recognition of the Armenian genocide by her peers and schools. Due to this, Sera is very much an advocate for the rights of Armenians, as well as Kurds and Jews. She faces a lot of backlash from her fellow peers who would rather keep the status-quo and not believe that there is something wrong about the world. Much of the season will discuss what it would mean for Sera to live in a modern Turkey and whether that would mean assimilate to the culture or to stand up for her people and her beliefs. Also, I just think it would be neat if we made Turkïye!Yusaf Kurdish. 

7. Introduce us to your version of Noora

Mó Bafão (SKAM Brasil): Grace Lee

At the start of the show, (Marie Vitória Silva’s (Mó Bafão!Eva) season), Grace Lee is a new student at their school. Grace is  Korean-Brasilian, and though her parents offered to send her to Colégio Polilogos (a South Korean international school in São Paulo), she chose to go to the school that she currently goes too, where she meets the Girl Gang. Grace is a super interesting character because though she grew up in Brasil, she also lived in Korea and the States, before moving back to São Paulo. Thus, Grace has curated her own cultural experience, which accounts for the fact that she doesn’t drink, smoke, party, have a boyfriend, or subscribe to traditional beauty standards. Grace would probably be considered fat/thick by most Asian (and Brasilian) standards. She is also quite tall for an Asian and doesn’t have the fair skin that is associated with Asian beauty standards. Grace kinds walks to the beat of her own drum, and because of that, Marie really admires Grace, which is one of the reasons for their tight bond. However, Mó Bafão!Vilde discounts this, believing that Grace’s decision to not drink, have sex, or conform to the standard of beauty is due to the conservative Korean culture or Grace’s family’s religious values. I think an important aspect of Grace’s character that I would like to point out is the place of privilege that Grace has, because she grew up over-seas she hasn’t had the same societal pressures in regards to beauty, partying, or sex that the rest of the girls have had, allowing her to be the character that stands up against it. Grace also is a total foodie and her Insta posts are entirely made up food. She also, posts these really cute Meokbang’s where she and one of her friends go out and try different foods in São Paulo. 

Okay, so here’s where he run into a lot of trouble. Because, I hate the whole Magnusson brothers plot in the original show, and I much prefer what eskam did in that regards. However, I also know for fact that Brasil has a huge sexual violence problem, so... I feel like, I would *really* need to be *way* more educated to be able to tell a beautiful and honest storyline that deals into ideas of consent and what not in the Brasilian context, and I am just not there yet?

* tw for the season : sexual violence + slut shaming + fat shaming ** additional notes : Okay, so I would really enjoy is Grace lived at home with her family and you get to see her interacting with her family. In that scenerio, the Mó Bafão!Eskild would probably be a family member/family friend that lives with them. However, another option would be to make Grace be living in a homestay situation with Mó Bafão!Eskild being the host of the homestay. Another aspect that we could potentially go into is intimate partner violence, with Mó Bafão!Miquel being this super charasmatic dude, who buys Grace clothes to wear that she doesn’t like (they are tight + bright colours she doesn’t like) and encouraging her to diet, all the while talking about how much he likes her for not being like the other Brasilian girls. Mó Bafão!Mique would totally have a TikTok account where he would post one of those TikTok “pranks” that’s straight up emotional abuse. This is sees through Grace’s socials because she stops posting her foodie content and Meokbangs. However, the last social you see from Grace (at the end of her season) is a tiny Meokbang again (maybe with Mó Bafão!Alejandro).  

SKAM India : Nana

Nana’s is from Nagaland, though her family has been staying overseas and have just moved to Bangalore. Nana is super close with her family, especially her father, who is her number one supporter. Nana’s family knows one of Anjali (my version of Eva) extended family. Nana and Anjali are really close. To some degree, Nana’s peers are a bit taken aback by her because she’s from the Nagaland, and there are some misconceptions about whether she is actually Indian. Nana is super smart and a bit of a know it all, which gets her in a lot of trouble at school. She is also super hardworking and lowkey the mom-friend of the group and just wants everyone to be okay. Due to this, she always wants people to be comfortable and treats them with kindness (which is great when it comes to India!Isak, but not when it comes to Kabir (India!Miquel).

So, I don’t know if you have already picked this up, but I am a huge fan of the way that eskam dealt with the Magnusson brother plot and the Miquel vs. Alejandro plot... And obviously, India has a huge issue with romanticising toxic relationships(looks pointedly at Arjun Reddy) and sexual violence.

So, that being said, in the first season we get an introduction to Kabir (my version of Miquel), who is this Delhi boy. He is a shameless flirt and flirts with everyone until he meets Nana. When she doesn’t reciprocate his affections, he focuses all of his attention on winning her over. For the first season, we see scenes of Nana and Kabir talking and it is all framed as harmless and funny, with them having a back and forth about how she doesn’t want to date him. We see, how annoyed she is by his advances, but it is pictured as almost romantical. However, when we delve into her season, we really see into just how much Kabir’s advances affect her, especially because she (though she is friendly with him) doesn’t want his advances, and he keeps playing it off as her “playing hard to get.” Due, to this, he continues to push Nana, whether it is to touch her against her will (hug her, attempt to play footsie with her, touch her face) or insert himself into her life (introduce himself to her family). Due to all of that, plus the fact that Kabir comes from a good family, Nana’s family and friends think 1) she is pretending to hate him (because she actually likes him) so they discount her words and 2) she is making a big deal because nothing actually happened (he didn’t actually “touch”/r*pe her). However, with the encouragement of her friends, India!Alejandro (if he exists) and her grandparents, she is able to stand up against Kabir and pushes him away.  

* tw for the season : sexual harassment + victim blaming ** additional notes : Okay, so in the scenario where we establish India!Alejandro, I thought it would be *really* fun to kinda do a flip on what eskam established. Instead, of establishing Alejandro in the first season, and introducing Miquel later. We establish Kabir in Season 1 where we see their “love” unfold and what not... Then we see India!Alejandro in her season... And he is just so much of the opposite of Kabir, he is patient, and is always waiting for her to make the first move. They, also have a fun back and forth (that’s very reminiscent of the Pakistani film Cake), and when she tells the “Girl Gang” and India!Alejandro about Kabir, he immediately believes her and wants to help in any way (get in contact with his family friend in order to press charges). 

GERAM (SKAM Malaysia) : Nor 

Nor is Malay-Muslim, and would probably be what my Aunt would call a Modern Day Muslim, and what the government of Malaysia would call heretical. Nor, doesn’t always wear her hijab (only when she wants too), but is deeply religious and goes to the Mosque and prays and what not. She also helps out in the animal shelter with dogs (’causing a lot of her friends and family to believe that she is un-Islamic). She is a total activist and is constantly talking about the evils of conversion therapy (a thing that can be forced on gay Muslim folks in Malaysia), the treatment of Orang Asli, foreign immigrants, and the Indian community in Malaysia. At the start of the season, Nor has just moved back from New Zealand, which has created a lot of hub-bub in her friend group because they see her as totally fancy and such. Nor, is really close with her family, who she lives with. Nor and her mom were especially close when Nor was younger, but because of Nor going through the classic teenage drama stuff, their relationship is not as tight as it could be. Nor’s cousin (who is an out and proud gay man) and Nor’s maid combined become Geram!Eskild. Nor, kinda has that rich popular girl thing going for her (think the energy and vibes that Tina has in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai). She is kinda outspoken, which causes her a bit of drama because she sometimes (all the time) says things that get her into trouble. In Geram, I won’t be playing around. Nor, is constantly being harassed by this boy. To the point where it gets really depressed and causes her to lock herself in her room. Her maid Geram!Eskild, finds out about the assualt and tells Nor’s mother. Nor’s mom, finds out and presses charges against Geram!William.

* tw for the season : sexual harassment + victim blaming

** additional notes : Okay, so I have two things to say. I know that most versions of Noora focus on the fact that she doesn’t want to have sex/drink. However, I’m going to subvert that by having her not do that, but instead being such an activist and being willing to talk about “controversial” things thus causing people to give her the label of un-Islamic and slightly heretical. Additionally, victim-blaming is going to be a huge focus this season, with randoms blaming the assault on the fact that Nor doesn’t always wear the hijab + wears that red lipstick, or the idea that she its punishment because of her views. I also, know that most seasons focus on Noora dealing with her issues by herself... however, I really want Nor to have to lean on her family in this time. Lastly, I would probably combine both Magnusson brothers into one person, and have them be Eurasian, making all the girls want him (because of that white-worshipping). Additionally, because he is a rich he tells everyone that Nor wanted it, and frames it as her asking for it. However, everyone that is important in Nor’s life believes her and knows that he is an idiot (even as he posts defamatory things about her on the socials).