#feminine rage this feminine rage that what about primal instinct and fear taking over in a survival situation

[oatm3al-c00kies]

meant to post this forever ago but here we r SO:

if i hear one more person say something about feminine rage in relation to ellie killing david i might riot. that was not “feminine rage”. that was fear and adrenaline and maybe definitely some hatred, but don’t erase the fact that she was fucking terrified in that scene because i feel like as ppl are talking about “ooh feminine rage she was so powerful you go girl” they’re also not talking about the fact that this might not have felt like a super empowering moment for her and it wasn’t really an active choice. like yeah maybe it turned into rage once she knew he wouldn't be able hurt her again, but it did Not start as anger or rage and i stand by that. it started as a little girl scared for her life and knowing that if she hit him hard enough and enough times he wouldn't be able to hurt her and she might be able to make it out alive. she wasnt like... fuming in that scene or after it, she was still scared. the close up we get of her face at the end of it? she looks horrified and in shock at what almost just happened and what she did. like yes i’m all for the rage and revenge and the fact that she was able to fucking destroy the shit out of david because he deserves that and worse but also... it was self defense. that wasn’t a conscious choice based solely on rage it was also based on terror.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Guerrerita

Part 2 ->

Summary: Nevada takes you out on a fancy date and things go poorly.

Nevada Ramirez x Feral Female Reader

Warnings: allusions to domestic violence but no actual domestic violence, just some assumptions based on Nevada being generally an asshole.  A bit of regular violence though. (OK, you know that trope where the Honorable Tough Guy beats up a stranger’s abusive husband to teach him a lesson?) Mature content, but no smut this chapter.

1,796 words

While most people would consider a romantic dinner at a sophisticated restaurant relaxing, everything about it had you on edge. It was too fancy for you to belong there, even in the elegant dress Nevada bought for you. The dress was too form-fitting, too low-cut. It made your cleavage look ample, and though you were getting accustomed to wearing such pieces in your new employment, your confidence in the feminine was still lacking.

You hunkered low in your seat, trying to be as small as possible so no one would look at you. Of course your nervous fidgeting only made them look more.

Not helping matters was your date, sitting across from you at the small, intimate dining table. Nevada Ramirez cocked his brow sarcastically as he made an inappropriately sexual comment about the aforementioned dress, and the aforementioned way your breasts looked in it.

“It’s almost distracting enough that you don’t notice the—” he gestured at your face with a mocking smirk, and laughed almost cruelly as he saw your eyes flash wide. 

Your jaw clenched and you thought of a million biting comebacks you could shoot at him, and briefly envisioned flipping over the table and decking him, but instead you shrunk further in your chair.

“Come on, guerrerita, don’t be like that,” he frowned. He seemed genuinely upset that you were shriveling instead of being riled into taking his bait.

Never in a million years would you have imagined yourself with an asshole like Nevada. Vulgar, loud, rough around the edges. A gang leader who earned the nickname of a ruthless dictator. But your life had been in a downward spiral, and Trujillo found you at the bottom of it. He recruited you into the crime family, and gave you a purpose when everything in your law-abiding life was falling apart.

It was a recent development that you’d admitted your feelings for each other, and until now your relationship (outside of work) had been limited to passionate, desperate, intense sex. Fucking Trujillo was like fucking the illegal fireworks he sold, but this was the first time you’d allowed yourself to be seen out in public with him—in decent company, anyway.

He’d insisted on taking you out to celebrate with something nice, just the two of you. None of his men lurking over your shoulders. Something he thought you’d want, even though all you wanted was to go back to the Heights and rip his clothing off. Now you were too pissed off and embarrassed to even want to fuck him.

You thought he might tone himself down for the upscale venue, but Vada had been his usual obnoxious self all night, and more genteel diners were glaring. Honestly, this was why you couldn’t stand him at first, even though he was incredibly handsome. But his boorish exterior belied a cunning, organized businessman who had all of Washington Heights under his thumb, who earned his community’s loyalty through fear, yes, but ultimately, by taking care of them. There was, underneath the showy performances of flippant laughter and casual brutality, a certain sensitivity you had grown keenly protective of. 

He saw the value in things others overlooked. He recognized all the anger and pain stamped inside you behind those mild suburban manners—things polite society considered flaws—and told you that you were exactly what he needed. That those things were an asset to him. That you were valuable. 

No one ever said that to you before. 

You weren’t in love with him. He would always be a ruthless criminal, and one day you’d want your normal life back. But you had grown… attached.

One of the glaring diners was eyeing Nevada with particular suspicion, not just briefly glancing up when he laughed too loud or made a rude remark to the waiter. He shot Vada a profoundly dirty look and held it long enough to raise your hackles. He sat at the bar about four table lengths away, had shoulder-length hair, a messy stubble beard, and a solid physical build. You would have mistaken him for a surfer except you were on the wrong coast, and your instincts told you he was dangerous. You quietly assessed the potential threat while maintaining your meek posture low in the chair. A cop? Or a rival gang leader? Unlikely to make a move inside the restaurant with so many witnesses. You’d watch the exits when it was time for the check.

The waiter brought the main course to the table, and blessedly, digging into a meal finally shut up Nevada’s feisty tongue. Instead of sleazy remarks, he made small-talk about how good everything tasted. Maybe it wasn’t just having his mouth stuffed that mellowed him. There was a softness in his eyes now—a look reserved for when you were alone together, when he knew something was bothering you. You guessed he finally caught on that you were not having a good time.

Nevada never took anything seriously, until suddenly he did. You’d seen him throw opponents off balance by dropping from sardonic laughter to spine-chilling hostility, and the effect was equally potent when he dropped into affection.

His foot bumped into your leg—those shiny black leather shoes that looked like someone cut off a tacky cowboy boot at the ankle—and slowly brushed against it under the table. It wasn’t an aggressively sexual maneuver, just an affectionate contact letting you know he was there. It worked. You lanced a slice of filet mignon on your fork, and felt your shoulders relax with his change in attitude. It was a simple gesture, but the warmth of his leg spread tingling waves through your skin, making your face flush. A private, intimate moment, like a sharing secret. That was the most thrilling part of the relationship, really—the secret that the fearsome Trujillo had a tender side. In a way, you were like two opposite halves that fit together perfectly.

Before long, you were comfortable enough to start gushing about the day’s victory you were there to celebrate, and the staring stranger had slipped entirely from your mind.

***

You excused yourself to use the bathroom, and as you washed your hands in the mirror, you got a good look your swollen black eye. You’d taken a glove to the face hard, but it opened your opponent’s guard and let you hit them back harder until they went down, and you walked away with prize money from the biggest tournament you’d ever won. Nevada was so turned on by your aggression, it took all his willpower not to barge into the locker room and fuck you right then and there. Instead, he treated you to dinner at a nice place like a gentleman, which was a very sweet, if misguided effort.

The bruise had spread and darkened in the hours since you received it, and your makeup no longer did anything to hide it. And there you were all innocent, in a cute little dress, slouching nervously across from a character from Breaking Bad. Oh fuck, no wonder everyone was giving him dirty looks.

An icy fist clenched around your heart as you remembered surfer-hair sitting at the bar, and you suddenly didn’t feel right about leaving Nevada unguarded. You shook the water off your hands and rushed back out into the dining area.

You were just being paranoid, of course. No one would start a fight in the middle of the restau—

Fuck.

Your table was empty. And so was that spot at the bar.

Worst-case scenarios ran through your head and your field of vision narrowed. A waiter hurried past with a tray of dirty dishes and you grabbed him by the arm hard enough for several plates to go flying as you whipped him around. “Did you see where the man at that table went?!” you demanded, pointing.

Indignant protests died half-formed on the surprised waiter’s lips and turned to terror at your intensity. “I-I think he went out to smoke! The side door!”

You dropped his arm without a thank you and marched with purpose to the door, which pushed open into a dim back alley.

“If you ever lay a hand on her again—” surfer-hair was snarling, pinning Nevada against the side of a metal dumpster, fist raised about to strike. 

Nevada’s lip was bleeding, but he wore a cocky grin, letting fly a string of filthy Spanish expletives. 

“You think it’s funny beating on a helpless girl? Let’s see how you like it.”

Nevada was scrappy, but not especially large. He’d gotten in a few hits, but was losing, badly. He was more the brains of his criminal operation, which was why he was always accompanied by protection. And now you were seeing red.

The man got off another punch to Nevada’s smirking face before you could reach them, the dull impact unlocking a boiling rage that rose in your blood and turned you into someone you wouldn’t recognize once the heat had passed. As he reared back for another, you used his momentum to keep him sailing backwards, off balance. 

“DON’T YOU”—you kicked him in the chest, staggering him back—“FUCKING TOUCH HIM!” you roared. 

Carrying forward on the momentum of the kick, you threw your entire body into punch after brutal punch, hissing and snarling like an animal, driving him back and down, your primal fury relishing the sensation of fists slamming into solid flesh and bone. You were going to break this fucker for daring to hurt Trujillo. “I will kill you! I will kill you!” you screamed, thrashing him in a relentless onslaught that never gave him an opening to regain his footing. The man might have given a better showing, but he was still recovering from the shock of being beaten senseless by a demon he had assumed was a fragile soul in need of rescuing.

You felt a hand grasp your shoulder and threw a vicious elbow, stopping yourself inches before seeing whose nose it was you were about to shatter. “Princesa, princesa—calmate. Tranquila, baby girl…” he cooed, pulling you off.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” you kept shrieking, legs and arms kicking out at the air, trying to continue raining blows down on your enemy as Nevada restrained you. You struggled against Nevada’s arms, your hammering pulse chanting murder in your ear, but never striking a blow against him. Even in a blind rage, your instincts recognized he was yours to protect.

In the way his long fingers gripped you, the rhythm of his breath in your ear, and how close he held his body firm against you, he was clearly turned on. 

He cackled at the would-be do-gooder. “You don’t wanna mess with an MMA champ’s boyfriend, comemierda. I don’t think she’s kidding! Better run while you can.”

“Alright, alright, Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered, guarding his face. “Who the hell are you people?”

Nevada’s smile could have split his face in two. “She’s my bodyguard.”

[songsofbloodandfire]

FFXIV Write Prompt #1: Crux

((CW: Death, implied mental health/anxiety problems, childhood trauma))

It hadn't been easy for Khod'a to slip away, not with someone always keeping an eye on her. She knew it wasn't done to hurt her, but rather to protect her though from what she didn't quite understand. She knew Terbi and Mede had been taken by some bad men, but the details of the whole thing weren't shared and it all seemed an abstract thing to a child of eight summers. 

Her mother and her mates almost always kept the house protected, the magitek systems installed armed the moment the door closed.She'd figured out quickly that any magic she did in the house her mother could somehow sense so she didn't dare try to teleport. Instead she'd learned that, for a short period of time in the morning when the nanny came but her mother hadn't left for her business in town that the house was left disarmed and her mother was distracted enough to likely not notice if she slipped out. 

She loved A'sana, even if the idea of her being her mother rather than the aunt that she'd been raised to call her was still odd. She cared for her, gave her things that her fathers hadn't and helped her start to feel comfortable in her own body by wearing things her fathers had forbidden. But A'sana wasn't her fathers and that's who she missed the most. 

She was still angry with them for simply leaving her. She couldn't quite put to words the sense of abandonment that their sudden absence had caused in her. It had left her feeling unwanted or perhaps even somehow as if their absence was her fault. 

Khod'a needed to see her fathers again. She needed the reassurance that they still wanted her. That they loved her and they hadn't justleft her.

As normal Eloise arrived and the system was left disarmed. The hyur chatted with her mother while fussing over Alvin who was gleefully shoving mushy fruit and cereal into his mouth and everywhere around it. It was a happy moment, more so since she knew as soon as her mother left Eloise would give her their focus once Alvin was cleaned and let her pick what project they'd work on for the day.

Today she waited until both adults were distracted and carefully made her way to the door. She knew if she opened it too slowly it would squeak. She'd figured that out all the times she'd helped her mother with the door, playing with it until she figured out the right speed to open it with that wouldn't produce the tell-tale squeak. Even knowing how to do it, she could feel her heart on her tongue with fear as she opened the door and quickly got herself out it and closed it again. 

The harsh light of the Thanalan morning made her squint for a few moments as her eyes adjusted.She shoved at her glasses to put them properly back in place but they did little to protect sensitive eyes from the light. Already the heat was making her uncomfortable but soon it wouldn't matter. 

She bounded up the stairs leading away from the house, paranoia making her overly cautious about teleporting anywhere near the house. She didn't want to risk her mother being able to tell what she was up to.

Khod'a hated how her nerves made it hard to focus, a flash of frustration tugging at her mind until all the training she'd been put through kicked in. Deep breaths settled her nerves and let her find the balance she needed. The calm place her mind settled into when casting a spell helped still her mind and as she focused on weaving the aether around her so she could us it to pull herself to her fathers home, she was able to forget her fear and anxiety for a brief moment. 

Teleportation always left her feeling disoriented, the brilliant flash of aether and the feeling of being yanked through the aether unsettling at best. It wasn’t something that Khod’a typically worried about as most of the places she would have teleported to were safe. Nothing had taught her to worry about that odd moment of disorientation or how vulnerable it could leave her despite her mother’s warnings to not teleport alone. 

“It’s a child.” The voice that came from behind carried a familiar accent, so reminiscent of her father Zeti’li and the faint Thavnairian accent he still held in his voice. This, however, was much thicker. 

“Didn’t Syn have a child?” The second voice, male to the feminine one that had spoken first, carried an accent just as thick as the first. “Aye, a boy. That ain’t a boy.” “Eh...close enough. Not like any other child is going to teleport to an empty house, right?” Before Khod’a had just begun to process what was going on and what was being said, her small frame having managed half a turn before arms grabbed her from being. Panic tore through her but the scream that it coaxed was muffled by a large hand and before she could even try to pull on any of the magic her mother had taught her, a single word and a gentle brush of aether stole the light from her as she was put to sleep. 

~~~~~~~~

Sana had known rage from having a child taken from her. That monster had reared its head and every instinct had driven her to get her children back. Mede was her flesh and blood, the child she’d held within her and had nursed from her own breast so her rage over his kidnapping had been expected but what she hadn’t expected was that rage to be echoed over Terbish being taken as well. Her niece of the heart, she loved the girl as much as she loved her own children and so that rage, that primal need as a mother to protect her children, had carried over to the girl.

Through the whole ordeal, Sana had felt nothing but rage and it wasn’t until after, when the children were safely back with her brother, that anxiety had left her paralyzed. It’d taken weeks before she could be coaxed out of the house, let alone allow Alvin and Khod’a out of sight and sound. She’d just begun to allow herself to feel safe again, more so with a bodyguard present nearly constantly when they were away from the house. Kasen’s presence had been the security blanket that helped ease the worries of an anxious mother. 

This time, it wasn’t rage that had gripped her once she and the nanny had realized that Khod’a was missing, but pure panic and fear. With Mede and Terbish, she’d known who’d taken them but this time there wasn’t some ignorant Xaela to go and throw spells at until they stopped moving. This time it was a faceless enemy and one she worried had everything to do with why Khod’a was in her care to begin with. 

While Khod’a’s fathers may have tried to put down the life they’d once led and turn their backs to that bloody work, that life had proven that it was not down with them. The assassin and his handler had been forced back into their work to pay old debts. She’d worried about the fact that it’d been weeks since she’d heard from Synd’to, but she’d tried to focus on anything but that. Now she feared she’d made a mistake in that choice. 

Finding the trail of aether that Khod’a had left behind hadn’t been hard. She was her daughter, afterall, and their aether was similar enough that Sana knew it the moment she sensed it. A hand rested on her distended belly over one of her daughters, both active and kicking as if their mother’s distress were reflecting on them. As far along as she was in her pregnancy, magic use was becoming risky but she couldn’t wait for anyone else. Instead she reached down the bond she shared with her brother, telling Ayanga more in emotion and vivid impressions what was wrong and where she was going than words. Even as she did, a cocoon of aether was wrapped around the children she carried to help shield them as she followed the aether trail left behind by Khod’a. 

Years of experience had taught her how to push past the disorientation of teleporting, her senses immediately stretching to try and sense anything that might have been a threat. She expected an attack and instead found herself face to face with a group of Adder’s standing over what could only lightly be called a massacre. A quick glance told her there were at least four dead and her heart dropped as she recognized a pair of Keepers among the dead: Synd’to and Zeti’li, Khod’a’s fathers. 

It had taken time for her to calm, the Adder’s being gentle with her given her obvious pregnancy. Once they’d let her know what had happened and were assured she was Khod’a’s mother, she’d been allowed to see her daughter. What she saw broke her heart almost as much as the deaths of her friends had. 

Though Zeti’li had apparently tried to shelter Khod’a as much as he could, the child had seen everything. From the broken bits of story that had been coaxed out of Khod’a, Zeti’li had fallen first before Synd’to had sacrificed himself to bring down the two would-be assassins. Knowing that her daughter had seen both of the parents she’d spent most of her young life with left Sana heartsick and uncertain of what to do. 

She’d spent so much time expecting Synd’to and Zeti’li to eventually come back and take Khod’a back from her that Sana had never considered that they wouldn’t be coming back. Let alone that she would not be dealing with a daughter left devastated by such a violent event. She’d never wanted such violence to mar the childhood of any of her children, even knowing that it was a possibility given the family they’d been born into. 

It was then that the crux of the matter fully set in. She hadn’t expected to actually be a mother to Khod’a, not so completely. In the end, it didn’t matter. Khod’a was her flesh and blood and now needed her more than anything. 

What happened after she’d been reunited with her daughter was a blur, the parade of family and her fiance coming to help her feeling distant as she focused on Khod’a. The girl hadn’t spoken a word outside of a sobbing apology when Sana had first arrived and Sana hadn’t let Khod’a out of her sight once she’d been allowed to her daughter. Her earlier fear had settled into a lingering anxiety that she wasn’t certain was going to pass anytime soon and it was strong enough that it pushed the mournful sorrow that settled under it down enough that she couldn’t quite focus on it yet. 

Her own pain would wait. Until her children were safe. Until Khod’a was safe. Anything she needed came second until then. 

[amwritingmeta]

4x05 Deconstruction: How a Monster Movie Lays the Foundation for Our Love Story

(This meta is long af. Grab a blanket and a cup of your favourite beverage and maybe something nice to chew on and come explore with me!) (as ever, apologies for any repetition of previous discussion surrounding this episode, I know I’m late to the party!) (in any case, here’s my take)

Monster Movie is written by Ben Edlund, story edited by Jeremy Carver and directed by Bob Singer. This episode is one of those subtle expositional feasts for Dean Winchester’s individual character arc - i.e. his journey out of his fear of never being good enough the way he is, and understanding and believing that he’s accepted and loved entirely for who he is, moving out of his self-worth being so closely tied to what he can do for others.

Because once you’re honest with yourself about what you truly want out of life, that’s when you can begin to broaden your horizon and possibly begin to expect that there’s something more to be had, something waiting for you, if you just take that leap of faith, and dare to trust. This is endgame stuff, and I’m about to argue that Castiel was always meant to be a catalyst for Dean’s self-examination, which will reveal his hidden internal need and is the whole entire point of Dean’s character journey: to learn lessons and evolve away from the person who doesn’t believe he deserves to be saved.

Point in fact, as much as SPN overall is about searching for one’s identity, that theme is focused and part of the overarching theme of S4 in wholly new ways, established through these two exchanges:

Dean: Who are you? Castiel: I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. Dean: Yeah? Thanks for that.

This is of course followed in the very next scene with:

Dean: Who are you? Castiel: Castiel. Dean: Yeah, I figured as much. I mean what are you. Castiel: I’m an angel of the Lord.

These two exchanges are not only the starting point for the interaction between these two characters - it’s the beginning of their entire joint journey.

Why?

Because these exchanges set up the theme of identity prevalent in this season with Dean’s questioning of Castiel’s identity, and Dean questions it not once, but twice for emphasis; the questioning ending with an assertion that Castiel doesn’t only know who he is, but what he is. (Deepened and doubly asserted in 4x02 with “I’m a soldier” - linking him to Dean with a chain so thick it could anchor a ship) (*glancing to the ceiling*)

Of course, here, at the start of S4, Castiel’s search for his identity has only just begun as well. Two journeys beginning at the same time, reflecting each other perfectly, both of the travelers carrying with them that one question: “Who are you?”which as the season progresses becomes the more profound “Who am I?”

Ok. Let’s leave that now, because the place where I really want to begin this meta on this particular episode is with a nosedive into the symbolism I see littered throughout it. So –>

The Symbolism

Black/White made me, upon some reflection, think of this symbol:

Yin/Yang.

Simplified, this symbol represents balance between opposites, two halves that together create a whole.

In Taoism, yin and yang are the starting point for change —>

—> split two sides of a whole up and the two sides will chase each other to once again find harmony together and if they can’t because you’re, you know, too closed off, well, then we have a Dean Winchester on our hands, don’t we? (and yes a Castiel) (they both wear an emotional armour of completely different types) (but they’re there)

But here’s what truly caught me up in the thought of yin and yang tied to the black and white theme of this episode: yin and yang as representative of masculine and feminine.

Disclaimer: I’m of the peeps who think that the societal construct behind assigning anything with some form of definitive gender is bullshit, to be honest, and I rather wish humanity could stop slapping labels on everything and dividing everything up into boxes, but as I see it, masculine and feminine are used in the traditional sense on the show in order to highlight the bullshit divide and so I shall use the masculine/feminine as such in this meta. Okay, disclaimer done.

Assorted Traditional Masculine traits, to be a man you need to show that you possess: strength, intellect, power, aggression, virility, bravery.

Assorted Traditional Feminine traits, to be a woman means being: nurturing, passive, tender, submissive, loving, kind, patient, understanding.

A man goes out and gets what he wants - a woman waits for whatever she’s lucky enough to get to come find her. Of course, bullshit. We all have a bit of both and we all have the ability to access and embrace these traits in ourselves. A man staying at home with the cooking and cleaning and care taking of the kids is awesome. A woman staying at home with the cooking and cleaning and care taking of the kids is awesome. What the fuck does it matter who does what as long as it gets done? And the kids are alive and happy? (fuck) (sake)

Now, let’s continue the Symbolism Nosedive with —>

The Monsters!! (grrr) (arrrgh)

Dracula: is a tormented being, yearning to be reunited with his lost love, he’s shown as a creature of deep emotion (feminine) and yet he’s driven, manipulative, competitive and unfeeling (masculine): he is quite literally a dual nature of femininity and, one could argue here, toxic masculinity. Bram Stoker’s Dracula also represents a release for repressed sexual desire and fear of the unknown, fear of that tall dark stranger who can enter your bedroom at night and slowly, but surely, turn you into something else. (ahem) (*glances at the ceiling again*) I could go on and I could go deeper, but I won’t.

The Wolf Man: is a tormented being and star of a 1941 horror film where the protagonist finds himself bitten when trying to save the life of a girl who is best friend’s with the woman he’s falling in love with. Unable to stop his own transformation from civilised man into bloodthirsty beast he grapples with his killer instinct and is finally slain by his own father (John) who doesn’t recognise the wolf is his son. Conversely, the dual nature of the werewolf symbolises the human vs. the animal within us - love vs. violence, intellect vs. primal urges. This said, the werewolf myth is linked to something else that is intriguing in the context of this episode: puberty and sexual awakening. I’ll get to why this is so intriguing a little later but here’s a teaser: it’s linked to “Agent Young” and a certain someone waking up dressed in a Hansel outfit.

The Mummy: is a tormented being, caught between life and death, but more than that this monster stands out to me because it’s not a dual nature, it’s a thing that’s died and has been preserved, but is falling apart, kept together by bandages, and has come back to life and is now searching for a way to restore its body to former glories. Yup, to me there’s a clear reason this monster stands out in a narrative primarily dealing with monsters that all are tied to confusion about ones true identity. (I’ll get to the why and the how it stands out in about 100 000 words) (kidding!) (or am I…)

The Shapeshifter: is such a tormented being you could even call this week’s true Big Bad a Dean Winchester mirror. With that backstory, I mean, I’m sure I’m not the first one to point at this. Beaten down by his father, ridiculed and hounded for being different and called a freak by society at large. Now, I don’t think John Winchester would ever have judged Dean for being bisexual, but he would judge Dean if he perceived him as weak, because emotions cloud judgment; a soldier leaves emotion behind when entering the battlefield and the Winchester’s life is a fucking battlefield, so John Winchester would feel it necessary to step into the role of drill sergeant first and father second in order to ensure the survival of both his sons. 

And the army doesn’t raise soft, pliant caretakers - it raises killers.

To me, the shifter’s backstory is ALL about showing us why Dean began performing in the first place: being raised into his toxic masculinity (by default, John thinking it was for Dean’s own good) Dean’s fear of being rejected for who he truly is made him put up a front because it was safer, because he could believe in that hard shell and convince himself that all those other things he might sometimes wonder about or wish for himself, that deep longing for love and home and family, those were just pipe dreams. There’s a deeper layer to this, but I’ll explore that in my 4x06 meta. 

Now, the shifter fell in love with the monsters of the classic horror films because he was called a monster for so long that he began to believe it. He’s accepted the identity someone else has dictated for him and has dressed himself in it proudly, seeing the beauty in it, but being so lost in it that he has no real identity left at all. 

Nature vs nurture, guys, in its truest form. 

Had someone, anyone, shown the shifter kindness while he was still open to getting to know who he was deep down inside, it might have given him the chance to accept himself, which could have given him the strength to brush off other people’s judgment as falsehoods, instead of accepting them as truth.

So, in this narrative of dual natures and conflicted identities, I see the shifter - in whom all these monster traits are combined, of course - as representative of Dean himself, and this is done for our benefit, so that we get to see inside Dean, into the internal conflict that he’s wrestling with, and has been wrestling with, for a long time.

Feminine vs Masculine

Control vs Change

Human vs Animal

Love vs Hate (or rather, frustrated rage finding an outlet in violence)

Dean’s journey has never been about shedding his manliness. This is not about changing Dean’s personality, because all of him has been shown to us over and over again. All of the above sides to him are in constant flux, in constant battle, no harmony, no balance, and we’ve always been privy to this. 

What Dean has always needed is awareness (conscious or subconscious) of his internal conflict - a contrast that gives that conflict a sharper edge - because awareness means that he can open himself up to learning lessons that will show him who he truly wants to be, rather than who he’s been instructed to be and who he’s forced himself into thinking he has to be as a means of survival and doing his job - which is so much about keeping Sammy safe. 

Okay, let me be more specific here, because performing!Dean and non-performing!Dean are not two separate men: they are the same man.

But performing!Dean is a security blanket that isn’t only about being the Strong and Protective Big Brother Warrior because of Sam

The performance, the blockade of walls, kept strong and in place by Dean’s need for control, is also there to shut down hope, trust and faith

Sam has always been the optimist, he’s always been full of these characteristics

While Dean grinds because you gotta keep grinding, not because he has hope and trust and faith that the grinding is leading, without question, to the desired goal and result–

–the way Sam does

The performance is there to protect Dean from getting his hopes up, from trusting there’ll be something good around the next corner, keeping him from opening up his heart because every single time he has ever done that, he’s been hurt or the rug has been pulled out

To Dean, there was never going to be a happy ending for him, there was never going to be a future of settling down and growing old with someone - the thing he deep down longs for the most - there was always only going out in a blaze of glory in the cards, so why should he care?

Why should he focus on anything but Sam?

The two of them, that’s enough, and Dean’s love for his brother is not a performance

And, of course, the performance - the walls of toxic masculinity - also comes down plenty. Non-performing Dean shows us that Dean is never a dog with women. He may be the love-em-and-leave-em type of guy (because of his fear of rejection if he stuck around for more than a night) but he’ll give them the time of their life (like with Lisa). And we know he’s capable of vulnerability (the tearful call to John in 1x09 for example) and shows willingness to open himself up (like with Cassie), but for all intents and purposes, Dean Winchester does not engage with matters of his heart. 

Because down that road lies nothing but disappointment and pain.

However. These conflicting sides are - in Monster Movie - being brought into the foray and Dean is shown to be aware. So very aware.

Who or what has made Dean aware of this conflict within him, though?

Hint hint –>

Yes, of course the correct answer is: Who is Castiel?

As Ever, the Destiel of it All: Because you may rightfully ask me now what all these monster and identity things actually have to do with our love story. Isn’t this all to do with Dean’s individual arc and his journey as a character, no matter how Castiel may be, in my opinion, the clear catalyst for change?

Well, I’m about to argue, once and for all, that the love story itself - not just Castiel as a character - is integral to Dean’s character growth because —>

This whole entire episode is exposition for how Dean’s true coming of age story has begun through meeting Cas

Cas’ appearance, and Dean’s undeniable fascination and attraction to this winged mercenary, brings with it a sense of budding hope and a longing for the ability to have faith (in other words - to trust in something other than himself, which is the basis for Dean letting go of his need for control, which is the biggest tripper-upper for him always)

In this episode the seeds for Dean’s continuous examination of himself are actually planted for us (all of this examination will grow and blossom purely in the subtext of the show, of course)

And the foundation of the love story that is also laid down throughout this season is integral to Dean’s character growth

Because if Dean had never met Cas he would - narratively - never had had any reason to open up and be honest with himself about what he really wants in life: to be loved for who he is

And he would never have thought he deserved it, because he would never have cause to reflect on whether he does or not

And so the brodependency would have been left unchecked, because all of Dean’s self worth would still have been tied to Sam

And since Cas is the catalyst and our love story is the foundation for our protagonists entire character growth, it makes sense that the reward at the end of the journey, once all the lessons have been learned, is happiness for Dean with the man he loves, who loves him back for who he is

Now, change doesn’t come easy - and we have Yellow Fever to underline exactly how uneasily it comes for Dean Winchester and a further nine years of story telling to underline how slowly one has to go in order to change one’s fundamental perception of oneself - and to dare believe that good things do happen, even when all your experience goes against the very notion.

So, with the lay of the land before you, let us dissect and see if I can bring you over to this beautiful view.

(I find it beautiful) (you may scorn and toss your hair and walk out because you might think WHAT FUCKING VIEW??) (it will still be beautiful to me damnit!) (okay moving on)

My deconstruction of the episode below the line because it is long af (I did warn you) and I hope you’ve got something nice to nibble on and somewhere comfortable to sit and that you’re still with me! Here we go –>

The Episode

Scene 1, frame 1, minute 1. (yeah ok I’m not going to do it like that)

1. Welcome to Pennsylvania

Sam and Dean are in Baby, arriving at the state border of Pennsylvania, and Sam isn’t all that excited about investigating a random case when the world is ending, while Dean is optimistically making this remark:

Dean: Come on, man, it’s like the good old days. An honest to goodness monster hunt. About time the Winchesters got back to tackling a straightforward, black and white case.

The reason I even got hung up on the fact that the episode is in black and white is because it’s stated in dialogue. Whenever something is added in dialogue it usually means it has actual bearing on, or at least is there to add weight to, the plot itself. Which, in this instance, taking into consideration the overarching theme of confused identity and feminine vs masculine, the black and white truly does. 

So even if it’s casual or a hooded remark, like this one, it’s mentioned in dialogue because the writers want the audience to be perfectly aware of it.

Just as the “straightforward” is a tongue-in-cheek underlining of how nothing is fucking “straight”forward on this show. Especially not when Dean also tries to do a callback to the good old days, when monsters were monsters and killing them was done without hesitation and times, as Dean wants to recall them, were simple and less confusing. Of course, they never were that. Using “the good old days” is the biggest reveal to Dean’s emotional state of this entire scene. It ties directly in with the horrors of Hell that Dean is trying to ignore, but it also ties in with his fear of the unknown, of anything changing, especially changing in ways that are out of his control.

Feeling like this longing for something more - this sudden, almost soft hope that perhaps there actually is something more to be had because someone told him there is, someone has put that thought in his head, someone terrifying and unpredictable and absolutely, absolutely fucking awesomely surprising - feeling like that hope is something he can’t suppress would send control freak Dean Winchester into a complete and utter panic of overcompensation for things needing to stay as they’ve always been, for him to stay the way he’s always been. No? Yes. Oh, yes, it would. Just look at how this episode plays itself out.

(Erik Kripke. Ben Edlund. Bob Singer. Jeremy Carver. I. Love. These. Men.)

2. Oktoberfest

(Pssst: Do you know what the origin of Oktoberfest is? It was to celebrate the marriage between Crown Prince Ludwig and Princess Therese, taking place in Bavaria in 1810) (just funny) (because Dean is so eager to engage with a tradition he considers tied to partying and getting laid) (when hidden from view is how the tradition began as an acknowledgement of commitment and a long and happy future with the person you love) (I mean shrug right?) (let’s shrug it up for the coincidence of a hidden, deeper meaning in the very setting of the episode itself) (it’s so uncharacteristic of the show anyway) (*small smile*)

As the brothers arrive to town, we now come to understand that here is the beginning of the long-legs-and-cleavage appearances, and yes, they will continue throughout the episode (and will continue to be prevalent throughout the entire season) (has Dean ever said “cheerleader” as often as in this season?)

Anyway, one of the pretty “bar wenches” is posing for a photograph taken by… well, a middle-aged man who looks like the poster boy for either mid-life crisis or just a tourist creep, I mean, that shot is set up as though you’re supposed to react to this: the young girl exposed to the male gaze and the male gaze delighting, while the young girl is in a submissive position of not being able to do much about it because this is her role in the scenario, right? But why is she even in that role in the first place? 

So Sam and Dean walk into the square, Dean bringing up going to see the new Raider’s movie, mostly so Sam can say “You were in Hell” - planting that fact as part of this episode because Dean will later talk with our Girl of the Week Jamie about his “near death experience”.

Dean spots a “big pretzel” and goes for it, Sam watching him as though it’s nice to see Dean happy and excited. Dean’s back. They’re on a case. It’s a nice moment. Dean is also acting like a child at a fairground, which is another thing that has a bearing on this narrative (and on how his arc is built across this season). Eating the pretzel Dean is greeted by Jamie and is immediately taken with her because pretty.

They speak to the sheriff and Sam takes the lead, introducing them as Dean is still munching on his penis pretzel. And now we get Agent Young. My darling Agent Young, what a fucking amazing choice of an alias for this particular case. Why not Pan? You’ll never catch me and make me a man! Well, dude, you may resist all you want but we all know that you’re on the track to manhood. We’ve seen it now. And you cut quite the figure. Adult Dean alongside Adult Sam are going to kick ass even harder than they have so far done! S13 is going to be epicness! (digression)

3. Morgue

Feminine and masculine representation in this episode, as said, is interesting. The sheriff - a male authority figure - is dismissive of the female victim, complaining heartlessly of how her death is the last thing the town needs during tourist season.

Sam is annoyed and calls the sheriff out on his thoughtlessness saying:

Sam: Definitely the last thing Marissa Wright needed.

The sheriff goes on to paint a vivid picture of the probable perp - who must be a freak, right? And then laments over having to give into Ed Brewer’s insistence that his testimony be taken; the sheriff asserting his judgment over another man as well. Yeah, my point is that there is toxic masculinity all over this dude. What I love is that Dean doesn’t react to it, whereas Sam takes a stand against it: fucking subtle and still so in character it almost hurts.

4. Dean Never Forgets a Pretty Everything

Sam and Dean go to the local pub. Lucy is in our immediate line of sight and tied to Jamie straight off. Dean is pleased to see Jamie, Jamie remembers him from earlier. It’s all very memorable.

Now, let me be frank —> I love Jamie. I love her so much.

First reason, her name. Her feminine/masculine combined into one name. 

Second reason, her attitude. This girl is smart, witty and self-confident. She has sass. Moreover, she knows who the fuck she is, she knows her worth, she knows she’s a catch and any guy should be lucky to have her. 

Third reason, she’s protective of Ed. She is the complete opposite of the toxically masculine Sheriff. 

Fourth reason, she sees right through Dean, and that’s shown in this dialogue:

Jamie: Wait a minute, you’re a fed? Wow, you don’t come on like a fed. Seriously? Dean: I’m a maverick, ma’am. A rebel with a badge. The one thing I don’t play by - the rules.

He winks at her. She’s mostly amused. The fact that she doesn’t buy his bullshit for a minute, but that she appreciates it for what it is - hiding that good guy underneath it all - is gorgeous because the very reason she’s giving him the time of day is that she can see there’s more there. And I love this exposition in an episode where Dean is beating against this soft tug inside of him that is threatening him with a possible longing for change, trying his damnedest to keep up his performance.

Give it one more scene and I’ll dig into why I’m feeling this so strongly. 

But first —>

5. Ed Brewer

Ed is a character. Perhaps the boys even understand why the Sheriff was rolling his eyes and sighing and uming-and-ahing over having to pretend to take this guy seriously. Ed is not a toxic masculinity type of guy, though. He’s a nervous, glances-over-his-shoulder-when-walking-home-alone type of skittish guy. Harmless. Weak, even. And openly judged for it by on of our representative for toxic masculinity. Yuuuuuuup, indeed.

6. Agent Young and the Bar Wench

Now we get back to perfoming!Dean.

Alright, back to the episode!

Because now Dean is happily up to old tricks. Meaning he is absolutely, most certainly, out to get laid. After talking to Ed, the brothers write the case off as not their thing, but Dean says they should stick around, their room’s already paid for.

He makes another pass at Jamie, strikes out for a second time, but is happy for the chase, because - and I can barely even believe Edlund did this, it’s too good - Dean reckons he came back new.

As in: a virgin. (a fucking virgin)

And who made him feel touched for the very first time? Well, let’s take stock of his exchange with Sam —>

Dean: Man, it is time to right some wrongs. Sam: Come again? Dean: Look at me. I mean, I came back from the furnace without any of my old scars, right? No bullet wounds, no knife cuts, none of the off-angled fingers from all the breaks, my hide is as smooth as a baby’s bottom, which leads me to conclude, sadly, that my virginity is intact. Sam: What? Dean: I have been rehymenated. Sam: Please. Maybe angels can pull you out of hell, but no one can do that. Dean: Brother - I have been rehymenated. And the dude will not abide.

I mean, what can I say, what can one do here but applaud Ben Edlund?

This episode in its entirety is one huge neon sign for Dean’s bisexuality, as well as the already mentioned underlining of the inner conflict attached to it, and, to me, that underlining begins right here because it’s stated in this above dialogue. 

How?

Well, peeps, men do not have a hymen. Do you know what has a hymen? VAGINAS.

Why does this matter? Isn’t Dean just making a joke? 

Well, yes, he could be making a crude joke, hinting at virginity being only a female affliction and the masculine “dude” (his dick, essentially, when read superficially) will not abide. But look at how the dialogue is structured.

Dean never mentions Cas by name because that would be way, way too personal a statement to make. (Also way too early to tie Cas so unequivocally to Dean’s frame of mind by mentioning his name in dialogue, but we all know.) This is more or less Dean saying: Yeah, Cas pulled me out of hell and fucking purified me of sin, delivering me back to the world as smooth as a baby’s bottom and feeling like a virgin. (he left his handprint on my arm but we don’t talk about that) So what can I possibly do but fight against this tooth, nail and claw? Get myself back the way I was before. Get back to the good old pre-Hell days when I knew who I was, because all this weird longing and crap that’s going on in my head right now, I do not want it.

But dig deeper and this is how I read it —> Dean, in dialogue, divides himself into feminine and masculine.

I have been rehyminated. And the dude will not abide.

Elaboration: his feminine side is beginning to wink knowingly at him going isn’t this much nicer, to feel pure and whole and filled with hope for the future, rather than engaging in meaningless sex to cower from your fear of intimacy, stemming in your fear or rejection, linking directly to your lack of self-worth? And his toxic masculinity replies with an ever reverberating FUCK OFF.

And if Castiel is the one who rehymenated Dean - which of course he is - then Cas must be linked to the opposite of The Dude: The Dude that is on the hunt in the same fashion he has always been on the hunt. Consider The Dude in this scenario to be representative of the dudebro performance side of Dean. Meaning The Dude is Dean’s toxic masculinity, thank you, Ben Edlund. This while Cas - in dialogue - by being what restored Dean’s virginity is directly linked to the side that The Dude cannot abide. The side he is telling to FUCK THE FUCK OFF.

Ok, let me clarify how this speaks to me:

Castiel is here hinted at being linked to, and even representative of, non-performing Dean

And performing Dean feels fucking threatened

Castiel’s appearance on the scene is making Dean dare to engage with that feeling, deep down, telling him maybe there’s something else that he really wants, making him dare feel hope and the first glimmer of faith - and the dude will not abide the threat of change (and his slow death)

So let’s find a girl and talk about having sex with her as though it’s going to clear away the virginity (rebirth/new beginning) that meeting Castiel has left Dean with

This dialogue tells us that Cas is tied to the side of Dean that longs for true love, home, stability, family. It’s not pronounced yet, but the beginning of it is there, that fascination, that pull Cas has on Dean is just waiting to bloom into more, and deep down Dean knows it. I’ll come to why this episode made me convinced of this in just a few scenes!! (you still with me?)

4. The Wolf Man

A young guy is lying to his girlfriend about how guys need sex to not get backed up (toxic masculinity) and his girlfriend is about to oblige (submissive caretaker), but the guy is murdered by a werewolf. Moral of this tale: don’t lie to get girls in bed. (moral comes back around in the narrative of this episode) Also, yes, callback to more innocent times when teenage girls would fall for this bullcrap and I do doubt they actually do fall for it in our times of dickpics and snapchats. (shudder)

5. Back at the Bar

Shit is getting real after this werewolf murder. (It’s giving Dean a headache) (and rightly so) (if you think of this narrative as completely reflective of what he’s dealing with internally) (ahem)

Sam and Dean are back at the pub and Jamie tells Dean she gets off work at eleven and I love this, because Jamie demonstrates a rather typical way they use female stereotypes on this show: she’s a sexual fantasy, sure, but moreover she has brains and sass - she takes control and shows a layer of real personality. She goes against the female blonde victim stereotype. 

Plus she has, as we’re about to learn, empathy as well. She’s a human being, not just a pair of long legs and a low cut blouse. It tells us what? Not to judge people on their looks alone, because we stereotype everyone we meet, whether we want to or not.

Dean: Hey, you think this Dracula could turn into a bat. That’d be cool.

And adorkable. Cool and adorkable. Dean at his finest.

(Dean and his obsession with bats) (I wonder why he has it) (there’s Batman’s dual personality) (Dracula’s many different guises) (almost like Dean can relate to these characters that are conflicted internally and manifest it externally…) (now we have Sam calling out the Batman parallel as the bullshit it is and presenting us with Wonder Woman instead) (self-assured, strong, brave, loving and open minded) (I cannot wait to meet Dean Winchester in S13)

6. Mummy Dearest

The mummy rises out of its sarcophagus and kills a security guard. The brothers discover dried ice on the scene and the fact that the sarcophagus is from a prop house in Philly. Sam calls the whole thing stupid and Dean remembers he’s late for his date with Jamie.

Now, let me address the mummy here, because it does stick out like a sore thumb among these monsters. More to the point, Dean even brings it up in dialogue when he later on has been captured by the Shifter and asks him: “Or even if you think you are Dracula - what the hell’s up with the mummy?” A question that’s never answered, but that’s in dialogue for a reason. Here’s my take on that reason:

The mummy is a tormented being that has been preserved after death and risen again, but is falling apart, is a husk of a body inside rotting bandages and is on a quest to make itself whole again, running the risk of never being able to do so, of never finding what was left behind in death. The mummy is a direct opposite to Dean’s description of himself to Sam and his optimistic view of how he was brought back to life without any of his old scars, and, to me, the mummy is exposition of the feeling Dean is dragging around with him underneath it all. A feeling that will become clear to us as the season progresses because Dean remembers Hell and all the things done to him, and all the horrors he doled out in return.

Also, with regards to the mummy, the brothers are dealing with a very, very identity confused shapeshifter who is escaping into a make-believe world of horror rather than to deal with the horrors of his/her real life.

*slow eyebrow raise*

6. In the Alleyway

Jamie gets attacked by Dracula - who calls her Mina - and Dean intervenes, Dracula calling him Harker and almost biting him until Dean stops him by pulling off his ear, Dracula escaping on a vespa. Again, the visual of Dracula on that tiny little non-motorcycle is part of the theme of the narrative: feminine and masculine in an eternal mashup, the supposed weak vs the powerful character traits are all interchangeable and part of a whole.

7. Aftermath

This scene is epic. Let me set the stage: Sam goes to the old movie theatre to talk to Ed Brewer, who they think might be the shifter. Dean stays with Jamie at the pub, laying out the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth (as apposed to the guy lying to get into a girl’s pants) (and as apposed to the wink and the “I’m a maverick, ma’am” line that he opened with) (moral of that story line accepted)

Jamie: So this is what you do? You and your partner just tramp across the country, on your own dime, until you find some horrible nightmare to fight? Dean: Some people paint. Jamie: Wow. Dean: What? Jamie: That must suck. I mean, giving up your life for this terrible, I don’t know… responsibility. Dean: Last few years I started thinking that way and, yeah, it started weighing on me. 

Dean: A little while ago I had this… let’s call it a near death experience. Very near. And when I came to, things were different. My life’s been different. I realise that I help people. Not just help them, though - I save them. I guess it’s awesome. It’s kind of like a gift. Like a mission. Kind of like a mission from God.

Here’s my reading of this exchange —> 

Jamie paints a depressing picture of the brothers’ life and Dean tries to blow it off with likening that life to a hobby - the life is no big deal.

But then Jamie turns on the empathy and hits on a truth that opens Dean up, because he’s wanted to talk about it with someone, and he doesn’t know how to, or doesn’t feel he can, talk about it with Sam: Sam is grappling with being linked to Hell and Dean knows it might come to him having to kill him, how can he tell Sam that he feels raised up - not only from Hell, but out of his own bleak world view, out of his inability to have faith, linking into his difficulty to trust and hope, by the thought of being chosen by God? 

This is why, at the start of the episode, Dean’s happy to be on a case: this is his purpose, this is why he was put back on Earth, this is why Heaven has his back - he does good deeds, he saves people. He feels he’s doing his part for the Greater Good.

If we want to look at character psychology and how to build a love story between two characters we don’t need to look much further than this, as Dean is a perfect mirror for the biggest internal obstacle Cas has to deal with for his individual evolution: believing an outside force can define who you are and assign your purpose, when you have to do that for yourself through faith in your own abilities, stemming entirely from a deep and real sense of self-worth.

But there’s even more to it than that, because the contents of the dialogue doesn’t just tie Dean’s sentiments to God and to being chosen by God; this episode and both of the exchanges I’ve typed out serve as exposition for Castiel:

When Dean talks of Castiel returning him without even the hint of old injuries it plants Cas’ core character trait of being a healer, first and foremost - he wants to help

Dean then softly reminisces of being brought back, how things are different, his life is different, the good he does feels validated by an external force that has nothing to do with him, but that is giving him back his belief in what he does being the right thing - this is faith sprouting in Dean and this ties directly to the love story and how Cas has come to push Dean forward on this path of self-examination, because it will inevitably lead to faith for Dean, just not faith in a higher power, but faith in himself and his value outside of what he can bring to the fight (remind you of anyone?) (there’s a reason these two characters’ core traits and core issues mirror each other) (because that’s what the two main characters do in a love story)

What is interesting to me is to think of the yin and the yang, the feminine and masculine, the thought that Dean is not being entirely honest with himself, that he is split in half between performing and non-performing, between his toxic masculinity and who he is deep down - his loving, honest, open minded, softer side - his feminine side. His inner yin and yang chasing after each other to become whole, to allow him to find balance, and how is this visualised?

After opening up, after being honest, after allowing this side - the side we’ve already had it hinted is tied to Castiel - to shine through, this happens:

To me, this kiss becomes a visual manifestation of the inner balance that should be at the end of Dean’s journey. Yin and Yang in symbiosis and understanding of one another.

But wait for it.

Because here comes Lucy and the reveal that she is also part of the shifter’s identity crisis. The shifter is suddenly split visually into feminine and masculine: the toxic masculinity of Dracula having chosen a softer shape to move among the mortals. The shape of an overlooked woman and the third bride of Dracula in those old movies the Shifter so loves. (remember the roots of Oktoberfest?) (wedding roots) (and there are brides all over this narrative) (funny isn’t it?)

Jamie: Oh, I am fine. Guy didn’t even touch me. And Dean, he just… flew right in and fought him off. Dean: Well, I didn’t actually fly, but I’m sure it seemed like that at the time. Jamie: It was really… really something.

I feel they’re really referring to someone else here. Someone who arrives through a fluttering of wings…

And, of course, the dialogue beautifully links Dean to Heaven again as well.

8. Well, I’ll be damned if it isn’t Hansel Young

Here’s where all of these feminine/masculine, there is absolutely something more going on here, what exactly is the symbolism of this narrative and all of such questions really began to knot together in my head. I stared and stared and tried to work out why the fuck Dean would have been taken out of his suit and put in a Hansel getup. Okay, yeah, hilarious, but also… huh?? Wut? This is not a fairy tale narrative - it is classic horror. So what is up with the suspenders there, Agent Young?

Oh.

See, this is where the point of this episode comes into actual focus. As I’ve already mentioned, to me, this is the beginning of Dean’s true coming of age story.

Dean is a man, okay? Dean is a manly man’s man, we all know that, and yet, throughout this episode, he behaves borderline teenager-y - and yes, it’s heightened, I feel, for this episode as an underlining of his inner turmoil, because Dean needs to grow up. Emotionally. And he’s never had real reason to before, but now someone’s come onto the scene that in one fell swoop is stirring feelings that bring out and highlight deeply rooted fears and an unwillingness in Dean to change anything. Ever.

He’s stuck.

Here’s the thing. 

Hansel and Gretel is the perfect allegory for going through puberty, for being forced out of the nest, forced to find your own way and face the enormous challenges that life has in store. It’s a tale of survival and triumph over adversity and even over death itself. The siblings face down the witch and they come out stronger for it. Rather than climbing into her oven (or fiery furnace *meaningful eye brow raise*) and giving up, Hansel uses a stick to outwit and overcome the threat: allowing the siblings (a girl and a boy representative of female/male) to move from childhood into adolescence. They are set on their journey to adulthood.

To me, that’s what Monster Movie is - Dean’s first step towards growing up, growing out of old ideas that have held him back since childhood, growing into the understanding that he is his own person and has every right to be. That he deserves to be and can be happy.

The whole entire point of Dean’s character journey is not for Dean to shed the performance and become another person, the entire point of Dean’s character journey is for him to reconcile the fact that it’s possible to be a soft, dorky, nerdy, loving, brutally kickass man with dirt under his fingernails who also loves to cook and take care of everyone.

This is also the point of the show: to take the traditional family- and gender values, based as they are on Christian values, and deconstruct them, leaving the beautiful for all to see and pick-pick-picking at the hypocritical or detrimental. Society thrives on diversity. That’s a core value of the show itself.

(And I have to add this now after seeing 13x01 because I fucking pumped my fist in the air: “There is no weird. Everyone’s normal in their own way.” ANDREW DABB!)

9. Shifter

I’m combining two scenes here.

a) The shifter tells Jamie to get into a dress he’s chosen for her and when she refuses he loses his temper —> toxic masculinity oppressing freethinking femininity. Jamie has no choice but to comply.

b) The shifter is sorry that he scared her. He doesn’t want to scare her - everyone else, but not her. He tells Jamie his damaged backstory and the reason why he took to “the great monsters”, seeing how it would be better to be feared than beaten down. Jamie calls him out on his performance: he emulates the monsters, but it’s all a facade. She can see he’s lonely and she uses the word as a weapon. Jamie hears a noise and calls out for Dean.

10. Sam

Sam gets Dean out of his bonds and then teases him about the Hansel getup, which is also significant to me, because Dean isn’t at the point where he can free himself, not yet (hence the need for Sam to get him out of there) and Sam would be unable to understand Dean’s inner struggles (hence the teasing) because Dean isn’t ready to be open about any of it, not even with himself yet. He’s just begun this part of his character journey.

Sam also takes the lead in kicking the door down, which is, again, interesting. Dean doesn’t even try to take the lead in this scene, he even gestures for Sam to go ahead and kick the door down. Dean in a child costume taking the backseat…

11. Dracula and Mina

Dracula knocks Sam out - fitting since this actually isn’t Sam’s fight. (not in the symbolic sense anyway) Dean attacks Dracula and they trade blows, Dean giving the wonderful line of “About now you shut the hell up” because, well, that’s endgame, isn’t it? For his toxic masculinity to stop dictating to him how he should behave and who he should be.

Dracula overpowers Dean —> and gets shot in the chest by Jamie. (with silver) (which in classic lore is tied to the purity of Heaven…)

Dracula: No, Mina, do not weep. Perhaps this is how the movie should end.

And the toxic masculinity is defeated by the strong, powerful, self-assured, brave femininity. Because Jamie is representative of yin/yang in balance. 

12. The End of the Beginning

Gratitude and kissing between Jamie and Dean. Jamie thanks the brothers for saving her life. Dean is satisfied. And even says “A happy ending. With a happy ending, no less”, which is intriguing on so many levels. They actually put the phrase “happy ending” in the dialogue. Twice.

Final note: if Dean was turning life into a movie, it’d be this one:

Porky’s 2 — The Angel Beach High School Drama Club is producing a Shakespeare Festival in which the group from the first film is participating. Unfortunately, a religious leader named Bubba Flavel wants to halt the production because he and his group, “The Righteous Flock,” maintain that Shakespeare is indecent and profane. The gang seeks out the help of Seward County Commissioner Gebhardt, who initially promises that he will pull some strings to keep the Shakespeare Festival running. However, the gang quickly learns that Gebhardt only agreed in order to secure a date with seventeen-year-old Wendy. When Wendy refuses him, he reneges on his promise. The local Ku Klux Klan chapter joins the movement to shut down the Shakespeare Festival when the Klan learns that John Henry, a Seminole student, will play Romeo opposite a white Juliet played by Wendy. Flavel welcomes the Klan’s support of his movement. The Angel Beach gang plot their revenge against Flavel, Commissioner Gebhardt, the rest of the county commissioners, and the Klan.

Yeah, that’s right, that’s the movie he’d want to live in forever.

The Angel Beach High School Drama Club.

Dean would want to be stuck in a movie about teenagers. A movie about teenagers who love Shakespeare and fight together against the oppression of The Man. And sexism. And racism.

This movie is referenced in a narrative dealing with Dean’s need to move out of adolescence and into adulthood.

Also, angels are fucking everywhere in this episode.

*dying just a little*

[sanoiro]

The Deckerstar Buoyant Manifestation (Part 2)

For the Summer Deckerstar Network Fic Gift Exchange. I hope it is all you wanted to be @strongbeautifulfulloflight, if not I’m sorry.

There is a unique dimension of writing to be explored in this gift fic.

It has three parts and every part can be taken separately as a one-shot. But! At the same time, you can combine them all together to get a three part story. I know it sounds weird but I planned it in order to explore a fluff date and angst one and a full with romance one.

All three parts deal with what the receiver wanted the Deckerstar date we all deserved in 2x09.

Chapter/Part 1. The Sundance Kid (Fluff)

Chapter/Part 2. Blast from the Past (Angst)

Chapter/Part 3. Ladyhawke (Romance) Ost Part 2: 

Falling Apart - Michael Schulte All of Me - Dinah Washington (I apologise for any mistakes. They are all mine... Unfortunately...) Blast from the Past

The change of venue had been surprising but desperately wanted. Their footing had changed with an unpredictable ground to step upon. Where Lucifer's long legs carried him with confidence Chloe could see doubt flaring when he was required to just stand across from her, hand extended towards the entrance of an urban myth in L.A. Nox.

“Why am I not surprised that you could find the last unicorn this city concealed for over eighty years?” She accepted his hand studying his features shift from an immersing confidence to an immense relief.

They were in uncharted waters, and neither had the prudence to care about where they were heading as long as they were set to explore the next light. In this case, the atmospheric dim light of the most well-sought prohibition club in L.A. Save it for Lucifer to actually know where to find it.

“Find it, Detective? I own it.” Letting his hand settle on the low of her back Lucifer guided inside leaving the bike behind for the rough, well-built man to get it.

The corridor was unassuming to the importance of the heavy wooden door that it ended at. Draped in dark velvet curtains hiding the means of transportation the habitué arrived with their shoes clicked on the concrete floor marred only by tire marks and time itself. A popular place then yet only for the selected few.

“Lucifer before we get in. You realise that I cannot turn my head to illegal dealings or activities?” She was giving him an out before he could entrust her with what she knew was the shady part of his business in L.A.

Lucifer only smiled at her with an uncharacteristically boyish disposition and hurried to lift the handle of the wooden door filling the corridor with sounds from another era she desperately wanted to step in with him.

“You assume too much and then nothing at all. No one can win with you, not even the Devil.” His tone was light, but his ears burning tips spoke volumes of his rising frustration.

‘Why not take all of me?’ A feminine, rich voice filled the corridor before she gathered the courage to trust him for the second time that evening.

The light was reflecting from low lights of the bar at the far right corner to the polished carved wood on the low ceiling. No candles were flickering on the top of the numerous tables around the room yet everyone walked with an unparalleled grace around them.

Trained to the space and the low lighting, Lucifer guided her to the darkest spot of the room from where the music source. The volume escalated with every step until a shimmering cloth revealed the live orchestra behind thick textile.

“Black raw silk in layers. A precaution for the loyal customers and the band.” Lucifer explained watching hands brushing the coarse material in wonder.

“A precaution?” Chloe whispered in his ear feeling his fingers ghosting her waistline and pulling her flushed on his chest.

There was no possessiveness in the act just comfort too for the sudden turmoil her primal instincts were experiencing due to the lack of her clear assessing sight. The murmur around her was a clue that the club was packed tonight, but little care was given on who was brushing next you. There was no attempt to socialise in this place.

“In the dark, we become more honest and when that happens veils are required.” Swaying slowly to the pulsing floor bass Lucifer was baring himself to her.

There was no pretence on the closeness the man craved from her tonight but at he was now setting the crossing lines. Exploring touches became bolder without getting sexually demanding. Lucifer familiarized his fingertips with her well loved white knitwear and his nose buried in blond hair inhaling her habit to blend the two clashing fragrances of jasmine shampoo and bitter-almond conditioner.

'Take my arms; I’ll never use them.'

Experimentally she rested her hands on the low of his back, her little fingers rubbing harshly with his belt at every slow swing of his hips. Spontaneously she felt her right index tapping the damp cotton shirt along with the music making his rumble a low laughter.

'So why not take all of me?'

The heavy butterflies in her stomach had turned growling in impatience. Bodily needs be damned Chloe was sure he had felt her lower abdomen quiver in hunger their bodies were practically crashed into a dancing embrace.

“Follow me.” He whispered entangling them both within the coarse textile between the club and the orchestra.

Practiced steps within the veil brought her back in contact with a door giving away under his palm over her left shoulder.

“Tuesday nights the kitchen remains closed,” Lucifer explained offhandedly finding the switch.

The sharp lights made her corneas burn whilst she tried to follow Lucifer’s movements around the kitchen, setting a skillet on the stovetop and starting the gas.

“Steaks?” He inquired brushing the selection in the fridge while setting out a variety of vegetables.

“Medium rare.” Chloe supplied him with a grin making him shake his head. He had not expected that option on how she wanted her steak.

When he was satisfied with dicing and the warmth emitting from the skillet he turned to face her offering her a cup of fresh raspberries.

“Do you know what the universe tastes like Detective?” Lucifer asked her curiously popping a raspberry and smirked through the chewing.

“Raspberries?” Chloe guessed content to see him moving around with ease.

“Correct and it smells like rum. These are the first two things I remember since the day I was created. Raspberries and Rum. Lots and lots of rum…” The faraway look in his eyes hummed of fond memories long left behind.

As of cue, he dropped several raspberries in two glasses of rum while the meat sizzled.

“My parent’s never seemed to care much about food.” Lucifer frowned checking her steak and adding some more seasoning on his.

“Neither did my siblings but I liked the process so soon I was out there picking things, well more like stealing them as Dad insisted calling it.” His chuckle was forced and awkward, yet Chloe could see he was opening the only way he knew how.

He was slowly detaching himself from the present yearning to visit the past along with her.

“Do you love your parents?” She asked curiously sipping the chilled drink marvelling the existence of the universe in her glass as Lucifer had insisted that was the case.

Lucifer played around with the meat, the bottle of rum hanging loosely in his hand.

“Everyone has been there Detective. Some are just lucky enough to remain in that pink bubble of theirs more than others.” Focusing on the cooked vegetables he poured some more rum in his glass before taking a swing along with a couple of raspberries.

“I would like to know… Was there really an apple?” She joked to lighten up the mood.

“There definitely was one but I was going more for a pie than human damnation there. A miscalculation on the logistics from my part really.” Lucifer sceptical look had a touch of hilarity in her eyes.

Their gazes met with the answer he had just given her to clear the space between them resulting her to a fit of very unladylike snorts. Lucifer did not follow only kept watching her with an enthralled look in his eyes.

“Lucifer” Chloe could feel the question still hanging in the back of her mind.

“Dad didn’t want his hands dirty but as I learned afterwards being kicked out was the best deal I could get for my misbehaving.” Eyes darkened with the stirring skillet to tremble slightly in his hand whether on rage or fear she did not know.

“How old were you?” Picking a broccoli from the pan next to the stakes she could see he was grateful for the imposing fork at the moment.

Getting a the amber drink from his hands, Chloe sipped and relished on the taste of rum and raspberries along with something smokey. He had cheated with his glass adding something which was now tempting her to inhale than drain the contents of the glass.

“Old enough to be sent away. Young enough to be set on fire and being kicked out of the door.” His eyelids flickered before he bore his eyes into hers, silently telling her that if she wanted out now was the time to change the conversation into lighter themes.

“The scars on your back then” The drink was no longer pleasant to the tongue but burning down her throat, trying to consume her heart.

She had taken the step they both feared there was no going back.

“That was me. My control over what will be cut and be scarred. His control, however, has remained until the day I bleed it all out and cease to exist. That was his first intention after all.” His face stony, Lucifer took a big breath. Determination and reluctance clouded his face at the same time.

“Say it.” Never caring for the stakes which were hastily dropped in two plates on the counter next to him.

“I’m mauled, scarred and burned to the crisp Fallen individual. I have a very dysfunctional family in which many of them would gladly murder me without an ounce of hesitation or regret afterwards. I have committed murder and I have nothing to offer you…” Lucifer’s voice cracked but his face remained explementary to the cool composure he always carried.

Her eyes demand a question to be answered immediately bringing a new wave of sorrow sailing in his dark eyes.

“I have been hunted down Detective, and for the first time since my Fall, I wish Father had indeed carried on with his original plan for me. It would have been a merciful alternative to this.”

Pointing between them he lets his hands fall to the loops of his belts and tried to scrape as much of his dignity he could. Bitting, her lip Chloe, concludes that she is not afraid of him.

“Is it traceable back to you?” Her voice low and calculating.

“It was not a malignant or planned action I assure you.” Lucifer offers with no intent to persuade or explain further the circumstances.

“Is it traceable?” Chloe pressed again forcing him to stand taller

“No.” Shaking his head, he serves the vegetables in an attempt to flee a conversation he knows he cannot avoid. The previous warning was applicable for both of them.

“I know you like sex, drugs, drinking and other things in a very unhealthy way…”

Lucifer withers before his eyes. Nodding in understanding what has not been delivered from her mouth yet. Not worthy.

“I know your business is not sparkling clean and you have issues.” Crossing her arms around her waist Lucifer picks her attempt to protect herself from his very presence.

“Spit it out, Detective.” He begged her to clear his illusion of what they could be of what he could become when a whistling sound escapes from her lips.

Cradling his cheek, Chloe offers him a rare smile of absolution.

“You have faults and flaws, but you are not a mindless killer Lucifer.”

“I’m a monster.”

“I shot and killed Malcolm in revenge for Trixie and in fear he would harm you.”

“You shot Jimmy Burns to protect me…” Lucifer reasoned bitterly waiting for the understanding to down to her.

“Do not twist my words. As a cop, I want to handcuff you and get you in custody, but I know you.” Chloe presses stealing a few more vegetables from his plate as it is closer than hers.

“Do you?” Cocking his head his eyes show the light of a person’s hope been ignited again.

“Lucifer I’m literally letting you get away with murder here! Because I might not know the whole you, but I know you!” Covering his heart, Chloe knows they both can feel she is cradling his very soul.

“It’s not over is it?”

“No, not by far.”

“I guess it’s the first date where the guy confesses a gruesome crime huh?” His attempt to joke falls short, and yet her comeback is to be expected.

“Not really, they have been a couple of sting operations, but this one takes extra credit on being unexpected and imaginative.”

Lucifer hands her the plate but not before giving her a dirty look over his missing vegetable portion. Rolling her eyes, she complies by giving him one of her broccoli which lifts his spirits.

“He was going to kill you and my Mother. Eventually, I would be next on the list. I’ll not claim that I did it for you because I didn’t.” Lucifer mumbled between his bites but refrains from ever seeking out her now tightly closed eyes.

“I did it for me. Because I couldn’t bear anything taking you away from me. I want to work with you, annoy and occasionally flirt if this doesn’t work out, but this also terrifies me, Detective.”

“And others get a nice bucket or a good expensive wine in their first date…” Chloe wishfully bashes him requesting more rum in her glass to which he complies.

“Chloe… I deeply care for you and tonight we will have a good time. Eat, drink a bit, perhaps even dance around while I stumble on your feet. When everything is over, I’ll take you again on my bike as a 1950s juvenile boy, drive you home and try to steal a kiss.”

“You sound like you have everything planned.”

“No, not really. Tomorrow I’ll be dressed in my penthouse, freshly shaved and with a bag set up for my arrest but you will never find the body.”

“Again for a person who cannot keep a simple 8-5 schedule you are way too confident in yourself.”

“I know you, Detective. Good, pure, a fighter of justice and all that human ideals.”

She hugs him from behind setting her forehead between his shoulder blades which surely make his scars itch under her warmth if his periodical twitching is not sourcing from something deeper.

“No, you don’t” She places a kiss on his back taking her glass and nodding him to follow her outside to the club with their plates.

Chloe is ready to push the door for him when she hears the plates set down. Without a warning, Lucifer traps her between the door and his body with the only thing between them an empty glass of rum in her lax hand. Neither can see a lone raspberry rolling on the previously spotless floor.

His eyes squint studying her, his attempts to speak are drowned between biting his lips and flexing muscles tightening his neck. There is no lust in his roaming gaze only desperation on how to proceed. His forehead came to rest on hers, noses barely touching.

When there is nothing else in her peripheral vision to see but his eyes darting in hesitation before they still in determination Chloe relishes on their close proximity really studying his eyes for the first time.

Restless liquid brown with specks of glimmering gold and red tear down all his wall just for her tonight. He demolitions all his personas letting her blue-grey eyes being hauled inside his earthly brown, like a God’s granted rain after a drought that lasted for aeons. Chloe cannot miss that for him it probably has.

“Can you handle me?” His whispering lips caress hers as the words come out in the process but never leaning over to capture them.

His body is fully flushed on hers and the spilt rum on his shirt is surely making its way staining both their clothes. Personally, Chloe cannot find herself to care nor does Lucifer with the liquid making an earnest try to slip through his quivering flesh.

Her life has taken reddish hue since the first day she met him. Blood, lust, rum, eyes…

The golden specks in his eyes are now licked open for frenzied crimson flames to spill over them. Her sharp intake fills her lungs with the burning sensation of brimstone and despair but somewhere in there, there is a soul screaming to be heard.

“All of me?” His head cocks to the left and Chloe feels him moving backwards only to be stopped by her attached fingers on his shirt and in his sleek, formed by the humidity curls.

“Lucifer.”

Her eyes do not widen comically only drop to heal themselves from the brilliance of the swirling colours in his starling orbs. Her mouth opened just enough to greedily inhale what could only be described as rum and raspberries only now with a hint of brimstone.

“Aside from all my less positive qualities, you understand this cannot end well. One of us will get burned eventually.” He mumbles never breaking his sorrowful luminous gaze from her expressionless one.

“I know that's not who you really are Lucifer.” Chloe reprimands very much as she had done after the sniper incident.

“Who am I then?” Lucifer swallows more questions, eyes still burning.

His gaze never lets her forget the man in front of her was a universe’s centre all by himself and once he probably he was just that. A burning universe. They match she suppose.

“Someone with a blasphemous yet gentle and innocent soul. An Angel, a Devil, a wayward son, only a man…”

“Chloe…” Lucifer whimpers, his head falling on her shoulder as her arms tighten around them.

A universe indeed.

The End/Or The End of Part 2

[victormendesbcu-blog]

Psychoanalysis

Psychoanalysis is defined as a system of psychological theory and therapy which aims to treat mental disorders by investigating the interaction of conscious and unconscious elements in the mind and bringing repressed fears and conflicts into the conscious mind by techniques such as dream interpretation and free association. 

Sigmund Freud, an Austrian neurologist, is often referred to as the father and founder of psychoanalysis.

The Unconscious

The idea of the unconscious mind is a key component to psychoanalysis. The treatment itself revolved around the analysis of various things Freud believed brought it to the surface including free association, dreams and parapraxis. Freud believed that unlocking the unconscious was key to curing his patients.

In Freud’s psychoanalytic theory of personality, the pleasure principle is the driving force of the id that seeks immediate gratification of all needs, wants and urges. The pleasure principle strives to fulfil our most basic primitive urges, including hunger, thirst, anger and sex. 

Id, Ego and Superego

The id - It is our most basic “animal instinct” and primal desires. The seat of our impulses

The ego - It mediates between the id and the real world, working on the reality principle. Negotiating with the id and pleasing the superego

The superego - It can be thought as “the conscience”. It incorporates learned societal values and morals, and works on an idealistic principle.

The id is the urge, impulse or desire that has to be satisfied. Relentlessly driven by a force Freud called the libido, the collective energy of life’s instincts and will to survive, the id must be satisfied. The ego is Freud’s second mental apparatus of personality. The ego’s main function is to mediate between the id’s demands and the external world around us. Even though the ego finds itself in conflict with the id, satisfaction is not abandoned. The ego accomplishes this important task by converting, diverting, and transforming the powerful forces of the id into more useful and realistic modes of satisfaction. It attempts to harness the id’s power, regulating it in order to achieve satisfaction despite the limits of reality. Superego is another name for your conscience. It expects your ego to be strong and effective in its struggles against the libido’s force.

Neuroses

A neurosis is defined as a relatively mild mental illness that is not caused by organic disease, involving symptoms of stress (depression, anxiety, obsessive behaviour, hypochondria) but not a radical loss of touch with reality. Freud believed these were caused by repressions, both of the pleasure principle and of childhood traumas. 

Freud’s Psychosexual Stages

For Freud, an infant’s psychological development was intrinsically linked to a series of five psychosexual stages. The pleasure sought by your inborn instincts is focused on sexual desire and gratification, through proper stimulation of each erogenous zone. If properly stimulated, you progress to the top of Freud’s psychosexual peak, sexual and psychological maturity. If not, you’re fixated on that particular zone and stuck in that particular stage.

Oral Stage (Birth to 18 months)

The oral stage is the first stage of personality development. From birth until about 18 months of age, an infant’s life centers on his mouth. The main task of this stage is to satisfy oral desire by stimulating the erogenous zone of the mouth. Infants are born with a very well-developed sense of taste, and their mouths are the most sophisticated tools they have to explore their world. 

Anal Stage (18 months to 3 years)

The second stage of personality development is the anal stage. Freud emphasised a person’s a person’s control over defecating as the pleasure centre from 18 months to 3 years old. Children this age want the ability to defecate whenever tehy want and wherever they want. According to Freud, creativity and productivity are indicators of how well a person has successfully navigated the anal stage. If you’re stuck in the anal stage, you’re dominated by anal satisfaction. This satisfaction can come in one of two ways: if you’re messy, sloppy or careless, it indicates an expulsive rebellion against parental control: if you’re withholding, obstinate and obsessed with neatness, you’ve learned control in reaction to your toilet-training experience

Phallic Stage (3 years to 7-8 years)

The 3- to 5-year-old child is focused on the erogenous stimulation of the genital area, the penis and vagina specifically. In the phallic stage, gratification begins with masturbation. As sexual satisfaction expands, a child finds himself within the realm of one of Freud’s most controversial and strange contributions to the study of personality, the Oedipus complex.

The Oedipus Complex is one of Freud’s most controversial ideas. It is the idea that, during the phallic stage, a young boy (sexually) desires his mother, and therefore wants to remove the father. Irrationally, the young boy believes that should his father find out about this desires, he would remove what the boy loves the most (his penis).  This is known as castration anxiety. The young boy then aims to resolve the issue by imitating his father’s masculine traits, and taking on the male gender role. For girls, this is called the Electra complex, where it is the psychosexual competition with her mother for possession of her father. Freud proposes that girls and boys resolve their complexes differently - she via penis envy, he via castration anxiety. 

Sublimation

Sublimation is defined as expressing strong emotions or use energy by doing an activity, especially an activity that is considered socially acceptable. Through sublimation, people are able to transform unwanted impulses into something that is less harmful and often even helpful. For example, when a person finds themselves overcome with anger instead of blowing up in a fit of rage they could channel their emotions into doing something productive, such as cleaning the house. Sublimation is a type of defence mechanism, an unconscious psychological defence that reduces the anxiety that might result from unacceptable urges or harmful stimuli. 

Sigmund Freud noted a number of ego defences which he refers to throughout his written works which is daughter Anna developed and elaborated on, adding ten of her own. We use defense mechanisms to protect ourselves from feelings of anxiety or guilt, which arise because we feel threatened, or because our id or superego becomes too demanding.  They are not under our conscious control, and are non-voluntaristic. 

Denial - Involves blocking external events from awareness. If some situation is just too much to handle, the person just refuses to experience it

Regression - This is a movement back in psychological time when one is faced with stress. 

Projection - This involves individuals attributing their own unacceptable thoughts, feeling and motives to another person

Displacement - Satisfying an impulse with a substitute object

Rationalisation - The cognitive distortion of “the facts” to make an event or an impulse less threatening. 

Torches of Freedom

Psychoanalysis could also be used in advertising and marketing. Before the 20th century smoking was seen as a habit that was corrupt and inappropriate for women.   In 1929 a cigarette company contacted Edward Bernays, an austrian-american pioneer in the field of public relations and propaganda, to market cigarettes to women and encourage them to smoke in public despite social taboos.He gained advice from psychoanalyst A. A. Brill, who stated that it was normal for women to smoke because of oral fixation and said, “Today the emancipation of women has suppressed many of their feminine desires. Bernays hired women to march while smoking their “torches of freedom” in the Easter Sunday Parade which was a significant moment for fighting social barriers for women smokers. He hired his own photographers to make sure that good pictures were taken and then published around the world. The targeting of women in tobacco advertising led to higher rates of smoking among women. 

Parapraxis 

Parapraxis is most commonly known as Freudian slips. It reveals that we are not always in control of our own speech or actions, and for Freud, they were telling of repressed desires. 

The Uncanny

In 1919 Freud published a book entitled “the uncanny”. He was particularly interested in the psychological effect that something which was simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar had. This unsettling feeling is often employed by creatives and designers - for instance within health campaigns. 

[rachelbracewriting-blog]

Reframing the Bad Boy Masculinity

Within Young Adult literature, young women and men are often bombarded with images of a ruthless and abusive masculinity that is presented as desirable. This image plays into all the most pervasive and disgusting aspects of modern masculinity construction, perpetuating the idea that a boy who treats you poorly simply needs saving by a soft, feminine woman. This masculinity, the bad boy persona, ignores the social construction of gender, how “our behaviors are not simply ‘just human nature,’ because ‘boys will be boys.’ From the materials we find around us in our culture – other people, ideas, object – we actively create our world, our identities” (Kimmel, 135). Within the recent novel A Court of Mist and Fury, the second in a series by Sarah J. Mass, two images of constructed masculinity are presented. The main character, Feyre, is involved with Tamlin at the beginning of the novel, the man she fell in love with in the first novel. Tamlin is the spitting image of the old bad boy masculinity: dangerous, sexy because he is dangerous, completely in control, and stoic. As the novel progresses, Tamlin’s behavior grows more abusive and Feyre eventually leaves him after being rescued by Rhysand. At Rhysand’s court, Feyre heals from her experience and becomes a powerful warrior who bows to no one. This healing is helped along by Rhys, who she begins to fall in love with. Rhys is like and unlike Tamlin: dangerous, but tries to hide it to avoid making people uncomfortable; sexy because he is strong, compassionate, and dangerous; a ruler who controls his court while accepting council from a close knit group of friends; stoic due to being a rape victim, but willing to discuss his feelings about his trauma to a certain extent. While the two masculinities presented in the novel appear similar, the differences in the stereotypical masculine characteristics reveal a new kind of masculinity that incorporates some femininity and performs male-ness in a healthier and less violent way.

Much of gender theory engages with destabilizing and deconstructing biological gender determination and the elements within masculinity which perpetuates the subjugation of the feminine and female. Pascoe, in an essay titled “What Do We Mean, Masculinity?” posits masculinity as a certain set of behaviors that can be applied to both men and women. There is a division between being male identifying and being masculine. Using this theorization of masculinity as behaviors, the actions of Tamlin and Rhysand can be divided into elements of the bad boy persona and then analyzed individually. When the traits of their masculine construction are examined side by side, they are revealed to be different in important and nuanced ways. The masculinity presented by Tamlin falls into the category of bad boy masculinity that relies upon violence, control, and lack of emotions to maintain its power. Rhysand’s masculinity reveals a masculine identity built using elements of traditional femininity. The incorporation of masculinity and femininity creates a unique masculine identity that does not rely upon patriarchal power structures for validation. Rhysand’s exhibition of feminine coded traits displays the redemptive qualities of the masculinity he represents. Modern American masculinity has been termed Marketplace Masculinity by Michael Kimmel, and hinges upon the rejection of the feminine through the oppression of women and homosexual men, as well as any other group that the Marketplace Man can exert control over. Rhysand’s masculine construction presses against this assumption that femininity leads to weakness, and creates an altogether better adjusted individual than the Marketplace Masculinity, which can be represented by Tamlin.

The presentation of aggression and forcefulness, defining features of modern masculinity, first occupies a violent, abusive register in Tamlin, before transforming into a controlled and respectful power through Rhysand. Both Tamlin and Rhys are High Fae, a race of faerie with magic and primal, sometimes animalistic instincts. This coding of males with instincts they cannot always ignore at first feels uncomfortably like the argument that women must be chaste for men cannot control their sexual urges. Yet the way each of them handle this biological programing reveals the redemptive masculinity that Rhys represents, as well as the insubstantiality of this argument about male urges. When Feyre tries to discuss how Tamlin’s control of her causes her to feel as though she is drowning, she observes “Nothing in those eyes, that face. But then – I cried out, instinct taking over as his power blasted through the room” (Maas, 99-100). In his rage, Tamlin utterly destroys the room they are in. If Feyre hadn’t instinctively shielded herself with a force field of air, she would have been severely injured, if not killed. After his explosion, Tamlin expresses remorse, “‘I’ll try,’ he breathed. ‘I’ll try to be better. I don’t … I can’t control it sometimes. The rage’” (Maas, 102). His half-hearted apology, rather than taking full responsibility for his actions, displaces the blame onto his instincts and his own biological inability to control them. Yet with Rhys these Fae instincts are no excuse for his actions. After forming a mating bond with Feyre, he discusses with her how “I’d like to believe I have more restraint than the average male, but … Be patient with me, Feyre, if I’m a little on edge” (Maas, 541). He warns her of his instincts to protect her and keep her from other males, but instead of asking her to excuse it, he asks for patience. There is an implicit declaration that he will fight to avoid being territorial over her. Further, she should not let him get away with it, simply be patient when reminding him to not suffocate her. Rhys’s version of masculinity questions the connection between masculinity and aggression that is presented as biologically essential by Tamlin’s construction of his masculine identity.

Protective instincts are coded as an essential part of masculine identity, but the manifestation of these instincts and the subsequent actions reveals the controlling nature of the typical bad boy persona. Tamlin’s protective instincts are an integral part of his personality, and he continually tells Feyre “I can’t do what I need to do if I’m worrying about whether you’re safe” (Maas, 11). Rather than it being his job to manage the fear for Feyre’s well-being, Tamlin places the responsibility upon Feyre to change her actions to cater to Tamlin’s overprotective nature. This power relationship is reversed in Rhys, and Feyre observes “I might have loved him for that – for not insisting I stay even if it drove his instincts mad, … I realized how badly I’d been treated before, if my standards had become so low. If the freedom I’d been granted felt like a privilege and not an inherent right” (Maas, 577). Rhys lets Feyre make her own choices, no matter how nervous they make him. Feyre herself compares the behavior of the two men and realizes how controlled, how suffocated she was by Tamlin’s own feelings and needs. This construction of respectful protection is extended to two of Rhys’s male councilors. Feyre asks him how to tell the men she doesn’t need protection, to which Rhys replies “You don’t tell them. You set boundaries if they cross a line, but you are their friend – and my mate. They will protect you on instinct. If you kick heir asses out of the house, they’ll just sit on the roof” (Maas, 557). The relationship set up is one of mutual give and take. Feyre sets boundaries of how much they are allowed to protect her, and if they cross them, she can ask them to leave. Likewise, the protective instincts of the two men are forced to give way under her need to feel free, but they are allowed to simply move their protection outwards so she is less smothered. The feelings and needs of both parties are respected and meet in a compromise that allows Feyre freedom and the two men their protection of her. The rewriting of masculine protection allows it to transform into a need based in love, that is not necessarily male-coded, and that must compromise with the protected subject’s freedom.

Traditional masculinity defines itself through a rejection of emotions, a definition that is shown to create unhealthy relationships without communication. In his relationship with Feyre, Tamlin is unwilling to engage in conversation about difficult topics. Both Feyre and Tamlin have nightmares from a past trauma, yet every night that Feyre jerks away to throw up Tamlin remains asleep, and Feyre suspects he is simply pretending. Further, he refuses to discuss his own nightmares with her, and gets angry when she brings the topic up. This repeats later when Feyre asks about Tamlin’s feelings on a difficult topic. She states that “I dared meet his eyes. Temper flared in them. But he said, ‘We’re not talking about me. We’re talking – about you’” (Maas, 99). Even before seeing the anger in his eyes, Feyre knows it will be there, having to summon bravery and daring to meet his gaze. Tamlin presents a masculine identity that is incapable of showing any sign of ‘weakness’ and refuses to engage in emotional healing with Feyre. In contrast, Rhys regularly discusses emotions and past trauma with Feyre, for her sake and his own. After Feyre admits to hating herself, he tells her he felt the same way when he couldn’t prevent the deaths of his mother and sister. He then tells her “You can either let it wreck you, let it get you killed like it nearly did with the Weaver, or you can learn to live with it” (Maas, 298). His masculine identity does not hinge upon remaining within the stereotype of the stoic protector without feelings, on the contrary, his narrative includes moments of intense emotional vulnerability. This rewriting of the stereotypical bad boy persona creates a masculinity that can still be strong and dangerous without sacrificing emotional capacity.

Masculinity within the novel is constructed to demonstrate the toxicity within the gender definition that requires a superiority to women. This necessity of masculine superiority has been observed as an intrinsic part of masculine definition: “The hegemonic definition of manhood is a man in power, a man with power, and a man of power. We equate manhood with being strong, successful, capable, reliable, in control. The very definitions of manhood we have developed in our culture maintain the power that some men have over other men and that men have over women” (Kimmel, 137). Tamlin represents this old version of masculinity; he is lord over everything in his court, including Feyre, and exercises this complete control liberally. Feyre sends him a letter informing him she has left and is not coming back, yet he sends his head guard, Lucien, to hunt her down and bring her back, no matter what. As Feyre was previously going to marry him, Tamlin views her as his possession and has no qualms about kidnapping her to facilitate the return to him of his property. This superiority to Feyre, and women in general, is expressed when he states that “High Lords only take wives. Consorts. There has never been a High Lady” (Maas, 24). He sees no issues with this structure of power, that Feyre will never hold a position equal to his own. That as a woman she cannot rule. Yet the necessity of this structure of power is revealed to be merely male domination and tradition when Rhys tells his court “‘Not consort, not wife. Feyre is High Lady of the Night Court.’ My equal in every way; she would wear my crown, sit on a throne beside mine. Never sidelined, never designated to breeding and parties and child-rearing. My queen” (Maas, 621). This is the only chapter for which his point of view is presented, and his thoughts about Feyre reflect the destruction of gender roles and traits that Rhysand’s character has been demonstrating throughout the novel. By showing the ease with which Rhys still reads as masculine, the novel refutes the supposed necessity of superiority to women within traditional masculinity construction.

Within A Court of Mist and Fury, the gender construction of the two main male characters reveals the ridiculous nature of much of hegemonic, unhealthy masculinity.  By breaking down the defining qualities of typical masculinity and comparing the ways Tamlin and Rhysand manifest or transform these traits, it becomes clear that Sarah J. Maas’s novel is engaging in gender theorizing. The necessity of a masculinity formulated around the oppression of women is refuted, and a new masculinity takes shape through the character of Rhysand. By showing a male love interest who does not rely upon toxic masculinity, the attractiveness of that persona of masculinity is questioned. Rhysand, who is far more loving and supportive than Tamlin, does not sacrificing any of the necessary sex appeal for a romance novel love interest. The ease with which Rhysand exhibits both masculine and feminine characteristics questions the division of gendered identities that is a given within our society’s picture of male and female identities. While there is still a reliance upon elements of traditional masculine construction, it can be figured as due to Rhysand’s own gender definition, rather than one based within biological gender.

Works Cited

Kimmel, Michael S. “Masculinity as Homophobia.” In The Social Construction of Difference and Inequality: Race, Class, Gender, and Sexuality, 5th edition, edited by Tracy Ore, 134-151. New York: McGraw Hill, 2011.

Maas, Sarah J. A Court of Mist and Fury. New York: Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 2016.

Pascoe, C. J. “What Do We Mean by Masculinity?” In Dude, You’re a Fag. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007.