#intentional full color for when they reconcile and are like okay let’s be in love :’)

[mxrcusflint]

rooster x hangman ↪ lyrics that remind me of them

[sepublic]

           God seeing Marcy in that tank, floating and healing, unconscious… A part of me is relieved as hell, but;

           A part of me is still in utter despair. It still hurts to watch; Not only because of what happened, the emotional and mental and PHYSICAL anguish she went through… But also, even if she’s recovering, well, she still WENT through that to begin with, she shouldn’t be in this kind of state, EVER! She’s literally a child and Marcy has gone through unimaginable trauma of multiple forms, and it shouldn’t have happened at all!

           She’s not fully safe yet, she’s still by herself, still wounded… Hurting, scarred already- GOD, can you imagine Marcy handling a scar for the rest of her life, of her most traumatic experience!? Dreaming, possibly having nightmares, not even fully aware or realizing that she’s alive- She might think she’s dead, or is in too lucid of a coma-like state to even realize or remember, too lucid to be relieved and given hope. She looks so lonely in there, so forgotten...! So small, but also weirdly peaceful and tranquil, like a dead body resting... It’s bittersweet and leaves me conflict and confused like her. Blissfully unaware... of the pain but also that she’s safe and still alive, so she’s trapped in that terror in a sense. The void- She must FEEL dead and I hate it. That this is the rest from life she wanted all along...

           And I’m sad because… Marcy was so afraid of being left behind. Sasha and Anne didn’t even KNOW she was going to leave them, can you believe that?! How they’d have reacted if Marcy told them, but she didn’t trust them, didn’t feel safe enough to admit this first at least? They had no idea that they were about to lose her too, they would’ve found out on Anne’s BIRTHDAY… Marcy was so afraid of being left out, behind, alone from the others, and she kind of was on that day; Anne and Sasha had fun (well mostly Sasha) as they forgot about Marcy, who had to grapple with the worst news of her life all by herself.

          Watch Sasha and Anne’s antics, knowing that somewhere out there, Marcy is having a borderline panic attack and feels so incredibly isolated and detached, desperate even- It’s the end of the world for her, while for Sasha and Anne, it’s just goofy antics; The worst thing for Anne is being late to her own birthday, but at least there will be more birthdays, and more times to hang out with her friends. But Marcy…

           Now, Marcy is left alone, once again! Because Sasha and Anne… They have company. They have people, REAL friends. And they’ll no doubt reunite and put in the work to stop Andrias. Sasha is going to learn and heal from her mistakes, but Marcy… She’s probably going to float in that tank, all by herself, taken advantage of by Andrias’ master, for who knows how long. Marcy’s going to miss out on so much, the chance to grow and develop and be with her friends against Andrias, because now she’s trapped with them…

           Even though Marcy lived… Just. The WAY the show handled it. The complete and utter breakdown. The despair, the terror, the regret… The genuine belief that she was dead, the shock from Marcy and everyone else. It all felt real, and still does, in the moment, that you keep forgetting she lives- Like you’re actually there, reliving the moment as if it were new, each time and feeling the dread alongside everyone else. For a moment, Marcy DID die- And they’ll never forget that. She went through the experience of believing, of feeling she was dead, and for all intents and purposes she was. Marcy shouldn’t have EVER been dead…

          We would’ve had to wait who knows HOW long before we got reassurance that Marcy lived, had True Colors aired properly. Even if Marcy lives, that trauma… She’ll NEVER be the same after this, the innocent girl she was, it didn’t grow into someone else- It felt more like it was brutally murdered to make room for another, more mature yet scarred Marcy.

           Marcy may not have literally died in True Colors… But it was the death of her innocence. Her spirit, her hope, and dreams and fantasy… The fun, the carefree attitude that every kid is owed; And the trust from her friends, the trust towards others, the belief in herself. Marcy may not be completely dead, but a part of her DID die, irreparably I feel… And I’m just afraid that Marcy is going to return rather late in Season 3, and be forced to catch up on all this growth she missed out, on the time Sasha and Anne had together. Still left out…

           But, hopefully they’ll stick with her, to let Marcy know they’re never leaving her behind. But DAMN it sucks that Marcy might not get this full development on-screen, and it just feels so unfair and descriptive of her life, always overlooked and ignored, given the short end of the stick… Barely making through with the bare minimum of a victory, and just being grateful for that! I swear, I NEED to see Season 3 fully delve into Marcy’s recovery from her wound, let her realize she’s alive and still has a chance, fully develop her hope, rekindle friendships with Sasha and Marcy, actual time to do so, at her own pace (mostly)…

           Just… let Marcy be here. Let her participate like the rest of the girls, and not be forgotten and sidelined again. NOBODY deserves this, least of all a literal child like her… She just wanted to avoid loneliness. She could’ve learned her lesson without this sort of trauma, so all of it, all of Marcy’s suffering- It’s just pointless and needlessly cruel, and accomplishes nothing but to break her. And she had NO ONE to listen to her, no one who actually cared… So dammit, I want to see Marcy reconcile and vent and admit to Sasha and Anne, and have them listen and forgive her, and let Marcy know that she’s HEARD, all right! I just need some full emotional closure for her, some on-screen, canonical development, inarguably there and described, and not just alluded to or set up in an off-screen epilogue.

           And I need Marcy to know that it’s all right. That as she floats, she’s going to be dreaming a lot, and… A lot of her dreams will be nightmares. She won’t wake up for a while, she’ll be trapped in her fears, reliving trauma and isolation and despair, over and over again, not realizing that there’s an end or even that there was ever anything else to begin with. But you’ll wake up soon, Mar-Mar, and it’ll be all right… It wasn’t just a bad dream, a lot of it DID happen- But the rest, Sasha and Anne will fight to make sure it never occurs, no more pain. No more suffering and anguish… They know what happened and they will FIGHT for you this time! They’re here to protect and defend, and you can trust them, rely on them, to come for you in the end… They’ll come back, I promise.

           I want to see it- The hope, the glimmer and realization, the new life and invigoration and joy in her eyes, when Marcy first realizes that Anne and the others are coming back for her. I want to see it. And I want her to experience and appreciate this joy by herself, to be left alone with it, without Andrias or his master or anyone else there to ruin it.

           ...Not too long ago, she was so HAPPY singing with Anne and Sasha. She really thought it’d all be okay and she was looking forward to it, even! I see her in that tank and I want to hold her, cherish her, cuddle and comfort Marcy, and tell her it’s gonna be alright, it’s okay, you’re safe now- And we understand. We still love and forgive you.

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

okay this isn't quite 500 words but dvd commentary for this snippet 💜💜💜

She held up a hand to silence him, which he obeyed. A sound that was almost like a distant buzzing caught Melanie’s attention, distracting her from her anger at Terry’s ignorant remarks. Then, they heard a faraway whistle before the ground rumbled beneath them. Melanie looked back up at the sky, knowing full well she would not find Santa’s sleigh, but a deadly machine. When she spotted the lights of German planes, she and Terry looked at each other, terrified.

“What do we do?” she whispered.

“Secure the building as best we can,” he said. “Get the patients somewhere safe.”

“Where?!” she gasped.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Come on, we’ve got to hurry!”

They dashed inside as another bomb fell, this one much closer than the last.

***

Dick wanted to scold Harry for the fire, but it felt too good. It reminded him of Melanie, actually, and the way her body felt against his when they danced. It was hard for him to reconcile that it had been over a month since he’d seen her, and they were together in Paris. Every frigid night, he thought of her in that dress, and it made him feel content enough to fall asleep.

Of course, he regretted letting up on the vigilance once the artillery came down, and Harry took a hit to the leg. Roe was slow to arrive, so Dick decided to ride with him into Bastogne to get Harry to the hospital. To their misfortune, Bastogne was no better off. The town was up in flames as bombs rained down. Buildings crumbled as they passed them. The hospital was a pile of rubble by the time they reached it.

Dick and Roe clamored out of the jeep and jogged up to the ruins. Dick’s heart contorted inside his chest. This was the hospital Melanie was in. Had she gotten out? Was she safe? He looked around desperately for some sign of life, but found none. He turned his attention back to the street, hoping to find her familiar form among the people retreating, but she wasn’t there either. His heart rate quickened.

A man came up running up the stairs, looking frantic. His dark hair was powdered with dust and his white coat was caked in rust colored stains. He first approached Roe, who was holding a blue headscarf. The strange doctor took one look at it and swore loudly before kicking the snow and debris mix blanketed on the ground. His outburst had Dick fearing the worst.

“Melanie Davis,” Dick said to the man, trying to disguise his panic. “There was a nurse here by that name. Was she inside?”

The man had tears in her eyes and it was all he could do to silently nod ‘yes.’

AHHH YES THANK YOU KRYSTA THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE SCENES <3

In writing this scene at the hospital, my goal was to create new tension. Both Melanie and Dick admit - not out loud of course - that they are in love with each other while they are in Paris. So, going into the second part of the war, there needed to be a new risk. Naturally, I brought in a romantic competitor in Terry (though let's face it, we all knew he didn't stand a chance with Dick in the picture), and I put Melanie's life on the line (Dick's life being on the line is pretty much a given).

In this moment, Melanie is conflicted because she's being offered something she has always wanted, but from the wrong person. She likes Terry well enough here because he hasn't proven himself to be a terrible person yet, so she feels guilty for rejecting him. But her heart is Dick's completely at this point. To both their frustration, the conversation is interrupted by what they all know they can't forget - the war. And despite any personal issues, both Melanie and Terry are dedicated to their professions, so they forget everything else and do their jobs.

For Dick, this scene was a wake up call. Yes, he knows that he loves Melanie because of how kind and devoted she is to him, but he's always been the one in immediate danger. If anyone was going to lose someone, it was going to be her, right? WRONG, SIR. This is where it hits him just how much he cares about her. Because the future he had barely dared to hope for with her is suddenly snatched away from him, and it's crushing (no pun intended here). I was careful to bring up how much he thought about their time together in Paris in order to juxtapose it with this "oh shit she's dead" moment.

And those very last lines, a moment between Terry and Dick, was also intentional. Obviously, these two are not going to have it out right there. They don't even know who the other is. Terry kinda guesses at it, since this random Airborne officer ran up and asked about Melanie by name, but I didn't feel that their initial meeting - especially in those circumstances - was important to actually write out. Melanie and what might have happened to her (another reason I included the headscarf moment - to imply she met a similar fate to Renee) is the main concern. And as we all know, Dick and Terry have a conversation later on where Dick is fed tf up lmao

Obviously it's also a set up for what's coming later, where Melanie and Dick get sort of off step from each other for the first time. But that's for another time lol

Thank you so much for asking!!!

[sigyn-obsessed]

Every Single Day (Loki x Sigyn)

“Mama can we get papa a present?” Asked Narvi as he pulled up a chair next to where his mother was cutting vegetables for dinner. “Vali and I saw something at the market, and we wanna get it for papa.” Sigyn ruffled her older son’s wavy black hair as she turned to him, wiping her hands on an old knit towel.

“What present do you want to get papa?” Narvi grabbed her hand, pulling her down to his level, whispering the idea in her ear. “That’s a good idea. What made you want to get him this present?”

“Papa’s been really sad, and I wanna make him feel better, like when he makes me feel better when I’m sad.” Sigyn nodded as she knelt to look at her son.

“Papa’s been having some bad dreams, baby. I think this gift you want to get him will make him feel a lot better. I’ll take you boys to the market tomorrow; how does that sound?” Narvi ecstatically nodded as he launched himself at his mom in a hug, she rubbed his back, knowing what Loki would think of his sweet, caring boys. The next day came quickly, and she was woken up early by the boys, shaking her awake. Loki had left early in the morning to see Thor in New Asgard, as well as visit his other children. She knew that would cheer him up. The boys were shaking with excitement, ready to show mama their find. They quickly grabbed their cloaks and were pulling Sigyn out the door.

Sigyn didn’t usually take the boys to the market with her. She would usually take Ragna in her carrier while Loki stayed at home with the boys, teaching them spells and playing outside with them. She found that when the boys were around, he perked up and forced himself to really look on the positive side.

Sigyn knew he would forever have guilt for the things he had done, the lives that were lost at his hands. She helped him realize that it wasn’t for his enjoyment or pleasure, he did for his survival, so he could live to help raise their children and do right. He had been forced to harm others; it wasn’t because he liked it. With his help in Thanos defeat, it helped prove to others the amount of influence Thanos had over him, and how he was his own person now, no longer under Thanos’ rule.

He still had rapid nightmares though, coming up on the five year anniversary of Thanos defeat, the nightmares were coming more than ever. It didn’t help that the anniversary of Frigga’s death was around the same time. He was struggling with the things he had done, and Sigyn knew that if the boys could show him that it was okay to have struggles, it would be easier to handle.

Sigyn looked around the market, bustling with the neighbors she had grown up with. No holidays were coming up, yet the market was packed. Stands littered the side of the road, the currency being exchanged glittered in the sun. The market looked magical, with trinkets of all shapes and sizes. Veggies and fruits of bright, beautiful colors sat out in spectacle. Sigyn wondered if she should pick up some seeds while she was out looking at all the colorful stands.

Sigyn watched as the boys weaved through the crowd as she tried to keep up with them, they were five years old and had so much more energy than Sigyn. Dealing with one enthusiastic five-year-old was enough, but Sigyn was blessed with two. She still remembered how shocked she and Loki were when they found out they were having twins.

She saw them stop at a small, rackety little shack where a tiny woman stood with a whole collection of trinkets ranging with small potion glasses to large pieces of furniture. Sigyn looked over the items, her eyes trying to find which gift the boys were looking at. She saw Vali get up on his toes to point at their idea.

Sigyn looked over and saw a dingy picture frame with a mirror inside. It was a golden color that would be shiny had it been cleaned. Sigyn didn’t exactly see the sentiment but she knew the boys had a reason behind it.

“Narvi, Vali what exactly is this thing?” She muttered as she picked up the mirror and inspected it. It seemed like an everyday mirror. An everyday mirror that hadn’t been cleaned in five hundred years.

“It’s an enchanted mirror mama. Like the mirror in that movie Uncle Tony showed us.” Narvi exclaimed as Vali nodded along. Sigyn looked over at the decrepit mirror. With a little bit of polish, it would be beautiful. There were small accents of gold littering the cabin, so it wouldn’t be out of place. It still warmed Sigyn’s heart that the boys’ first thought was of their father.

“It shows memories. We thought that since papa is so sad right now, he could see some good memories, to make him feel better.” Sigyn smiled at the boys’ appreciation for their father. Sigyn knew that Loki tried to hide his feelings from the boys, showing only love around them. He didn’t want them to know what happened in the past and all the things he had done.

“Boys, I think papa will love that. You two are so thoughtful.” She knelt down and gently lifted her boys’ chins to look her in the eyes. Their eyes were bright and sweet, and they didn’t have the hardness or pain Loki and Sigyn’s did. They would protect them from any harm they could so that the boys could have a life neither Sigyn nor Loki had.

Sigyn’s childhood was full of hardships. She was raised by her father, Iwaldi, who was a dwarf from Alfheim. Apparently, Freya, Sigyn’s mother had been married to Iwaldi when she met Odr, a wealthy farmer in Asgard. Within a month, Freya had left Iwaldi with all eight girls to marry Odr and live in Asgard. Sigyn had felt betrayed and felt unloved.

While her father was the most loving and hardworking father, it didn’t replace Sigyn’s feelings of not having a mother. All the children playing in the fields with their mothers, cuddling and being taught spells. Sigyn didn’t have that. While Sigyn had seen Freya and talked since then, she had never exactly reconciled with her mother.

Things changed though when Sigyn was about ten, when Astrid walked into their lives. She was a simple healer who worked with Eir, the healer to the All-Mother and All-Father. She had met Iwaldi when he was working on her new metal potion bowl. They had lots in common, Astrid having been in a failed relationship, though she had no children, and Sigyn’s father still figuring out how to raise eight girls on his own. Astrid was able to help with some of the girls more “feminine” problems and aid in some of Iwaldi’s difficulties that came with raising eight girls with only two hands. Soon enough, Astrid and Iwaldi were married, and the whole in Sigyn’s heart somehow felt a bit fuller.

Sigyn gently pulled out a few coins, passing them to the woman.

“You want this mirror?” The boys nodded excitedly, eyes begging for her to accept. “Why don’t you just take it?”

“Ma’am I couldn’t do that. It’s obviously worth quite a lot.” Replied Sigyn, hand still outstretched for the woman to take the money. The woman continued shaking her head, her grayish-brown locks flowing.

“Let me ask first, what is the reason behind purchasing my mirror?” Sigyn stood back, worried she had offended the woman. It was Vali that quickly answered.

“It’s for our father. He’s been sad lately and we wanted to make him feel better. He likes magical things, so we thought this would help.” Sigyn looked at the boys’ smiley faces, knowing that they had made their point clear.

“Well, you want it for a good reason, so just take it. You guys will use it more than I ever did.” Sigyn looked a bit exasperatedly, still quite shocked at the woman’s generosity. The woman handed the boys the mirror, and Vali gently took off his cloak to wrap it up, Narvi holding it tightly against his chest. Sigyn led the boys back home, knowing Loki would be back from New Asgard soon.

They all sat at the table, the boys doing their own things. Vali had a book of spells, pointing out the cool spells he wanted his father to teach him. Spells of shapeshifting and curing animals. Vali’s interest was helping, no matter what. He had a way with animals, especially animals’ others would be scared of. There had been a pack of wolves in the woods behind them that had made a home, and Sigyn realized the missing meat had been Vali sneaking food to them. When Sigyn went to confront him, she found him asleep outside, leaned up against a tree, wolves surrounding him like he was their own cub. Sigyn felt pride welling up inside her. It was quite a shock to show Loki, who’s first thought was how.

Narvi had a pad of paper that he was writing down new plants to put in the garden. He had begged Sigyn to purchase watermelon seeds, since he had been obsessed with watermelon after Tony introduced it to them one night while babysitting them. Narvi was trying to introduce more Midgardian foods, like planting rice or corn. The farmers had found his ideas helpful, and it was actually helping the bias towards Midgardians that some Asgardians still felt. Sigyn had found his excitement almost contagious and loved seeing his bright little face when he saw the new blooms or the stems emerging from the hard ground. Sigyn knew it was something he had gotten from her.

Sigyn sat at the table, Ragna sitting on her lap, happily babbling, and playing with a tiny stuffed bear Thor had gotten her. Her green eyes were entranced with the little bear, staring intently at it. Her blonde curls were a bit longer, now pulled back in a little ponytail. She looked so much like Frigga. She was relatively peaceful, and never really got upset. She had been a quiet baby, and rarely got fussy. She slept easily through the night early and happily cuddled. One of Loki’s favorite pastimes was lying in bed, Ragna snuggled up into his side as he read, peacefully nodding off, listening to her papa’s soft voice. Sigyn couldn’t say she wasn’t a little jealous of their relationship, but Sigyn remembered her relationship with her father being nearly the same.

Loki was extremely nervous when they had found out about Ragna being a girl. He had never had a baby girl before, but the moment that she was born, it was as if all the worry dissipated within them. He held her as she intently slept, and Sigyn saw he was at ease. He wasn’t afraid of her being taken away, or her getting hurt. He was just calm.

Sigyn was awakened from her thoughts to the door opening and the boys hopping from their chairs, running towards their father. He knelt down and opened his arms, the boys jumping in and hugging him. Ragna toddled towards him and he gently scooped her up onto his hip. She knew how to walk, but she was still new to it, so it was a force of habit.

Ragna began wiggling as Loki sat her down as she followed her brothers into the living room. Sigyn looked over at Loki.

“How was the trip?” She muttered as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

“It was nice seeing them. We discussed some treaties between Jotunheim to return the Casket, but it’s Val’s choice now. How were the boys?” Sigyn nudged into him as he rubbed his hands down her back.

“I’m glad you're back.” She sighed. Loki pulled back, looking down at her with a grin.

“Were they that bad?” He chuckled as she shook her head.

“No, they’re just excited.” Loki looked confused before they heard the pitter patter of feet running on the hardwood. They looked over to see Vali holding a folded-up cloak while Narvi stood next to him, his hands behind his back.

“Is this what they were excited about?” He knelt down to reach their height.

“Papa, we got you a present.” Sigyn saw Loki look a bit taken aback, as if he was wondering if he missed a holiday or something. Was it his birthday and he had completely forgotten?

“That’s lovely darlings, but what for?” The boys looked over at their mother, as if waiting for her to explain it. They were still little; their mother could describe their idea in perfect detail.

“When you took the boys to the market last week, the boys saw something they wanted to get you to cheer you up.” She said as she gently rubbed his shoulder. He looked at the small gift, wrapped up in paper. He gently opened it, carefully, unsure of what it was. He carefully inspected it. It was a little mirror, not too large. It was shiny and gold, and reminded him of some of the mirrors back in Asgard. Other than that, it looked like the average mirror.

“Darlings, it’s lovely.” He stopped, a forced smile as he looked over at the boys excited grins. “What is it exactly?”

“It’s an enchanted mirror!” Exclaimed Vali, bobbing up and down, holding onto his brother, who was nodding with the same excitement.

“It’s a mirror that shows memories. They knew something was wrong, and wanted to make you feel better like you make them feel better.” Loki looked speechless, looking at his family. Narvi and Vali excitedly hold onto each other, waiting for his reaction, Ragna playing with the discarded paper, and Sigyn smiling over them. “Maybe this can help you remember the good times.”

“Boys..” He didn’t know what to say. He had always tried to hide his emotions, afraid to worry his family. The boys, as old as they were, still didn’t understand what he went through, and he didn’t want them too. He worried it would change the way they thought about him. All he could do was reach out and hug them, the words not enough to show his appreciation.

“Do you like it?” Muttered Narvi into Loki’s shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around him.

“I love it. It was very thoughtful of you boys to think about me.”

“Maybe you can see grandma with that mirror.” Whispered Vali, his eyes bright with the thought of seeing what his grandma possibly looked like. Loki regretted the boys never having her. It wasn’t his fault, but the boys didn’t have a grandmother. Sigyn’s mother was always in and out of her life and Sigyn didn’t want her to do the same to the boys. Frigga though, would have adored them. She would have spoiled them, being there all the time. She likely would’ve delivered them had she been there. Anytime he had a question, she would be there, reassuring him that he was doing fantastic. He and his mother had their struggles, but he loved her and he missed her more than ever right now.

“Maybe darling. You know, you three are a lot like her. Narvi, you have her blonde hair, though it’s technically your mother’s. She also loved gardening, and would have been thrilled to garden with you. Vali, she would be reading to you everyday, and would’ve shared your interest in spells. Ragna looks so much like her with her blonde curls. Everyday you remind me of her, and she would have loved you.” He held onto his boys, rubbing the mirror. He closed his eyes, a hand rested in the glass as the boys gasped. He quickly opened his eyes and saw it.

It was surely his memory. It was his mother and him. He was young, maybe ten or eleven, and they were out in the garden. His mother could’ve had someone tend to her garden, but she always preferred to do it herself. Being from Vanaheim, they favored nature and she grew up outside, just like Sigyn. He was sitting on the bench, reading to his mother. He was babbling about some spell and his mother just stood intently listening. He always felt heard when it came to her.

“Is that grandma?” Pointed Vali. Loki nodded, a teary smile came to his face. How he had wished to see her face again. To just apologize to her for what he had done, explain to her why he did what he did.

“She’s really pretty.” Muttered Narvi, staring intently. He had always imagined what his grandmother looked like. Papa had explained to him what she looked like. How she had blonde hair like mama and bright eyes.

“She was beautiful, but she was so much more than that. She was really intelligent, and taught me everything I know. She was also considerate and compassionate. When she met your mama, she adored her and when we married, she was so excited for us to have kids. She would have loved you guys so much. She would have gotten you everything we told her not to. She wouldn’t care. She would do anything to make you guys happy, no matter the cost.”

“Do you miss her papa?”

“Every single day.”

[spnsmile]

"I believe in her."

Cas couldn't take his eyes away from Dean. Even when Sam left, all he could do is stare and when Dean notices, he returns it with intent.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"You don't really believe her, right? Billie?"

"Why the sudden change of mind?" Dean takes a sip of his beer. Castiel looks at him thoughtfully.

"Sam's just... Asking the right question, I mean. What's her end game? What happens if Jack succeeds? What's next...?"

"Ain't it paradise?"

Castiel pauses. He didn't think Dean would remember so continues frowning and watched Dean straighten himself as much as his bowlegs would allow.

"Well, no choice but go with the greater of the two evils, Cas. And right now the guy who's planning the old comedy "wipe out the world" takes the cake."

"Dean, she's Death. As far as I'm concerned if any entity out there wants you dead for good, it's her. You're not worried she could use this opportunity to get you? Like killing two birds with blunt force of one stone... in one very violent throw... Don't laugh, she of all people wants you dead."

Cas swallows hard, the idea cementing in his brain now he's vocal about it.

And Dean just chuckles?

"She could. But if she's using us to get rid of Chuck, then that means wanting me dead also takes the back burner. For now we see eye to eye. Chuck has to go first dibs. If she needs to use us then we gotta hold hands, run up to the sunset and see where she takes us."

"That is highly optimistic view, even for you, Dean. Considering she's been trying to get you killed

"She's death, it's her obsession, Cas. Talking about death." the hunter smirks, making the angel bristle.

"This isn't funny, Dean."

"I know, Cas. You know I get it, okay. But whatever she's got drawn up her blue print, doesn't change the fact that she still gotta line up the queue." Dean shrugs and it's not nonchalance that Castiel sees in his eyes.

It's absolute faith for this cause. One where Dean will be fighting with him until the last battle.

Until his last breath. After that, what?

Castiel closes his eyes.

"I'm saying I don't want you to die." he finally says, all raw emotions out. He feels Dean look his way, know the startled expression is in there without needing to look and hates it.

Why Dean always need to be surprise when someone tells him they don't want him dead never ceases to anger him.

Like Dean believes everyone wants him dead. Then again, considering things he's been through...

"Hey, Cas?"

Castiel engages the man with a look.

And like its not enough that they've been throwing furtive looks at each other in the presence of Sam, the man has the gall to stand and seat in that distracting position where he can fully see the man's lips and thick bowlegs presenting just within his reach while smiling like he know what he's doing.

The way Dean can look so full of affection with green eyes that just flickers expressively towards his direction with long lashes dusting his freckled cheeks. The way he opens his emotions to Castiels without restraint, letting him glimpse the soul so bright in its form he once rebuilt

I want closer

But he stays where he is, even when Dean openly invites him silently to come closer, his eyes expectant and soft and full of love.

Cas remains where he is perched.

Control. He gives it seven seconds count to take over the reel of feelings pulling him to Dean. The same way when Dean's eyes were grateful and bursting and happy, almost singing praises when they reconciled after his solemn prayer. Dean is gazing at him with the same adoration same loving affection overflowing and so full of hope.

So full of love. Something Castiel knows he cannot accept so he ducks his eyes. He knows exactly why the pull is strong this time. It's Dean. Dean's longing.

Dean's prayers.

So loud and intense. It wants him.

It's madness how the tables have turned. Unlike before where the boat is tipping on his side, this time, Dean's the one putting the weight. Dean's the one screaming in silence of his love.

But he can't. Not yet.

He has a mission here otherwise... He thinks of Jack and the mission.

Focus...

But it's too late when he looked up, he only sees Dean smile sadly and nod, before finishing the last whiskey on his glass, the sparks in his eyes dimming.

Dean wipes his chin with the back of his hand, his lips making smacking sound too loud to ignore.

"See you later, Cas." he says quietly, monotone and Castielf, angel that he is feels the swift slap of coldness on his skin. The worst was when Dean turns to go without meeting Castiel's eyes even when the angel has pushed himself off his wall and was waiting, but Dean goes- moves away.

Dean is leaving him and thwe sharp jab on the organ functioning as his heart makes Castiel call Dean back.

"Wait." He finds his hand curling on Dean's elbow, pulling him back.

"Dean." he hesitates, unable to pluck up the courage to say in fear that he might say too much. But ever as it happens, it's Dean who easrs him out of his misery with a simple flicker on his eyes and careful smile.om his lips. Castiel relaxes. Dean is still looking deeply in his eyes. "I want some."

"Want something from me?" Dean licks his lips, then raises both eyebrows when Cas eyes empty glass he's holding. "Oh." and Dean laughs in embarassment for some reason, the flush color on his cheeks gives Cas a wonderful view of his tanning freckles.

"Wanna drink with me?"

"Yeah, so bad, I'm thirsty for you."

Dean is in love with him and the hunter isn't even trying to hide it anymore. These are the thoughts that played across Castiel's mind as he sit with Dean in the library, listening to Deam praise him, Dean giving him all his attention and Dean being just too endearing.

Tried as he might not to fall for it like when Dean was praying to him in Purgatory, Castiel can't help gazing back with the same contentment and joy. Overflowing happiness of just sitting here, talking and talking like they haven't spoken to each other in years.

And the best part?

Dean's smiling unbiddenly with eyes just taking in Castiel. He sees the way Dean catches him smile, the way Dean's cheeks blushes. Castiel was glad there was a table between them or he was afraid what his instincts might do on impulse with Dean being like that.

He wants to kiss him. Instead, grabs his glasses without really drinking. He just listens to Dean's voice. Listen to Dean talk to him and it reminds suddenly of his fear of losing everything.

He realizes there's too little time to be with Dean so he memorizes everything. He memorizes a lot, even the exact moment Dean throws that wonderful look and raises a glass in his direction.

Cas' heart leaps in the air and he too is smiling and loving Dean so much, the only pull back to his heart when they toasted is the fact he can't tell Dean.

He wouldn't think about it for now. He too has faith in his choice and that is Jack. He is choosing Jack. Jack who is the answer to Castiel's crumbling faith whenever he thinks of the number of ways he can lose Dean.

"Hey."

Castiel looks up. He didn't notice Dean already standing in front of him. The angel blinks.

"What?"

"I was just telling Jody good night. She just called, asking how everybody is... And i told her I'm a very good kid today. She told me I'm drunk." Dean pouts.

"You want me to detoxify you?" Castiel tilts his head inquiringly. Dean stares with heavy eyes.

"Yeah, may need to drive."

"Where are you going?" Castiel frowns, a hand already raised. Dean blinks then slowly levels his eyes on the angel sitting in the chair.

"Somewhere. I feel happy, you see... But sad too... So I already spent my happy here with you. Time to go crush the bad. So driving."

"Why are you sad?" he cups Dean's face in alarm, his little world on his hand. So he wasn't mistaken. Behind Dean's eyes...

"It's okay..." Dean smiles, "Everyone's a little sad inside."

"Why?" he insists.

A long pause. Dean blinks slowly.

"Can't be together, you and I... So i gotta... Uh... Have to deal the sad without you...if we can't be together..."

"But we're together here."

Dean shakes his head. "I'm choosing. So are you. In the end we're gonna... I'm gonna have to deal with myself alone. There's no you out there. I have to prepare."

"Dean, what the hell are you talking about?" he hears him but he cannot understand him. Dean kneels in front of him all of a sudden, both hands taking Castiel's hands and clasping them with his own. The look Dean gives him after that is pure and honest, like souls bursting of its true form.

"I'm saying I understand why you can't... We can't. I understand it's the world or us... And that's not even a choice. I'm saying I understand you're the only angel who can save the world. So i want you to do it without holding back. Without thinking about whether I live or die. I want you to do that, Cas."

Castiel gasps. He sees no doubt in Dean's eyes. Watches as Dean brings his hand to his lips gently.

"Me dying doesn't compare to the world, Cas. So dont worry about me or Billie or whatever hell. You got your hands full, I got mine. So... i gotta drive."

Castiel sighs, then kisses Dean on the forehead. Clarity returns in the green eyes that blinks at him in surprise. Then Castiel stands up, nearly knocking Dean on his feet.

"I'm going with you."

"No, Cas. This is not the point-"

"I don't understand the point alright. I don't." Castiel grabs Dean's collar, sharp eyes full of meaning. "Don't make me understand why after everything... why after everything I've done, I'm still not going to be allowed to stay with you. I won't understand. And if this universe insists that? They're going to have to make a different bargain because I want you at the end of the road, Dean. It's you I think about when I think of win. And when that happens, I'll tell you loud and clear. I'll tell you what you already know. What I can't tell you now. I will. And it's not goodbye. So hold on to me. I will always find you. Do you believe me?"

It takes one smile from Dean and their foreheads pressing together.

"I believe you, Cas." ✨

[bigskydreaming]

And another thing!

Can we like, just collectively fuck offffffff with this whole ‘the natural opposite to Bruce’s abusive relationship with Jason is Jason having a warm, nurturing relationship with Talia after she adopts a pseudo maternal role with him when she dumps him in the Lazarus Pit’?

This trend has kinda been around forever, but I feel like its been popping up in like, every Jason-centric fic I read lately, and uggggh, dislike. Look, I actually feel no desire to defend Bruce and his parenting, ever. I try and go with AUs and canons like Young Justice where he’s like, Bad At It, but not to the point of the absolutely toxic abusive shit he’s guilty of in various writers’ runs in the comics, but that’s just because I want his kids to have nice things and his kids all at least WANTED Bruce to be a good father at one point. But if your take on Bruce is that he’s abusive despite his best intentions and the best thing for any one of his kids is to move on and get the hell away from him, I’m not gonna argue with you, or try and defend him in the slightest. I will read the fuck out of that, happily.

Until you try and pretend Talia’s not...just as bad?

Like, okay, I have complicated feelings on Talia, mostly because the shared universe nature of comics makes it impossible not to. She’s an extremely nuanced and complex character and has been for decades, which means I really enjoyed her and found her every bit as compelling as Bruce, until....Morrison happened. And I loathe Morrison’s dumbass writing and try and pay it as little heed as possible, so wherever possible, I go with one of the takes or canons or AUs where Bruce and Talia had fully consensual sex and she just never told him about Damian til later, because I will never ever ever excuse the date rape interpretation of Damian’s conception. And I’m fully aware that it was written that way largely BECAUSE Morrison’s a dumbass and most likely didn’t think through the full implications of what he probably just saw as an expedient way to give Bruce a longlost kid he knew nothing about, or how it would throw Talia’s character under the bus. It’s different with Dick and Tarantula, because Catalina didn’t have those decades of prior characterization and attachment, her agenda was pretty clear from not long after she debuted. (Although, we gotta talk about how just like with the aggressive man of color stereotype, the only times comics show a man being raped by a woman, its a woman of color. Pin in that for now).

So I mean, I don’t automatically write off Talia unless we’re dealing with a fic, AU or run in canon that clearly expresses its going with the version of events where she date raped Bruce. I vastly prefer being able to still enjoy her as the compelling equal and foil to Bruce that she was for a long fucking time before that. 

But even with that, the idea that she’s a superior parent to Bruce and a convenient candidate to step into the void he leaves in any of his sons’ lives, let alone Jason, and just...Do Better....umm...how about could we not?

Like, YMMV obviously, but to me the entire point of Talia in the context of her relationship with Bruce has always been she and Bruce are as alike as they are at odds. Selina and Bruce, the appeal of their romantic dynamic is they’re opposites. Talia and Bruce....they have far more in common than they don’t. They have different goals, different lengths they’re willing to go to, they’re not the SAME by any means, but they understand each other in a way few other characters do, because deep down, they always GET why the other one does what they do.

So I mean, I’m not saying Talia is inherently WORSE than Bruce, I’m just arguing that even with all of Bruce’s flaws, she’s usually not any BETTER. Like...its pretty much a lateral move.

Sure, you could easily WRITE Talia as being a loving maternal figure to Jason or Damian or anyone....but just the same as you could write Bruce being a healthy paternal figure to them. The potential is there in either character, depending on what takes in canon you choose to focus on and you clarify where and in what ways you’re diverging from any takes where they both devolve into outright abuse of their kids. Because both definitely have, and thus, you don’t get to just....handwave away any problems with Talia’s character (and parenting) and default to her as this superior parental figure on the basis that hey, she’s not Bruce. 

Like, okay....you want to write Jason moving on from Bruce and rejecting his attempts to reconcile because he’s come to view Bruce as having essentially raised them all to be child soldiers? I WILL TOTALLY BACK YOU ON THAT. I mean, the dude’s memorial to his SON, was a case containing his uniform and a plaque that said A GOOD SOLDIER. Case made, you know? Not one fucking argument from me. Your take is valid, and Jason’s complaint has my full backing.

But here’s the thing....if your fic does NOT significantly diverge from canon prior to Damian’s joining the rest of the Batfam, if it does NOT show Damian having a WILDLY different upbringing than he did in all versions of canon, and by extension, resulting in Damian having at least a somewhat different approach to interactions, worldview, mannerisms and ideology.....

Then no matter what relationship you craft between Jason and Talia, you are STILL swapping out his parental figure - who he resents for raising him as a child soldier - for another parental figure, who LITERALLY RAISED HER KID AS A CHILD SOLDIER.

Like, hellooooooo? Any take where Damian grew up in the League of Assassins without Talia objecting to him being trained with them or getting him the hell out of there, is a take where Talia literally does the exact same thing you’re holding against Bruce on Jason’s behalf. (While, I might add, ignoring that while Tim at least was well into  his teenage years by the time Bruce became his mentor, Dick, Cass and Damian ALL have this child soldier upbringing in common with Jason. It really doesn’t work to single Jason out as the only one who was victimized by their parent in this way).

But okay. Let’s say you’ve got an explanation for Damian’s upbringing or have written that differently. If you’re going with the take that Jason has a connection with Talia now because Talia’s the one who put him in the Pit and either brought him back to life or restored him to full coherency, then almost inevitably (because you COULD do this differently, but I’ve yet to see a take where a writer DOES)....you’re also going with the take that before coming back to Gotham, Jason trained with the League of Assassins, and this is how he was so competent by the time he went up against Bruce and the others, given that he wasn’t nearly as skilled back when he died at age fifteen.

And it really, really, REALLY bugs the fuck out of me that people so rarely spend much time or focus looking critically at Jason’s time with the League of Assassins, and how that contributed to his ideology and methodology as the Red Hood.

And this is a complaint I have both with fics/writers/headcanons that are pro-Jason and anti-Jason. 

Again, don’t get me wrong. I honestly don’t have a problem with Jason’s initial return to Gotham. Like, he can murder the fuck out of every rapist and crime boss he wants, I’ll be in the stands holding the OMG LOOK AT MY BABY, LOOK HOW GOOD AT MURDERING ASSHOLES HE IS sign and doing high kicks up and down the bleachers. 

But ESPECIALLY if your take on Bruce and his raising of Jason is that he was abusive and trained him as a child soldier.....it absolutely IMO does not work to overlook the role the League of Assassins...and by extension Talia....played in shaping the man he was when he first returned to Gotham. 

And they abso-fucking-lutely played a role.

Because Jason is not Bruce, was never going to be Bruce, was always going to clash with Bruce’s ideology in ways even Dick never did, especially when it came to killing. Even before Jason died, it was very well established that they did not see eye to eye there and likely never were going to. It IS part of Jason’s core characterization that he fundamentally disagrees on the subject of killing criminals, the worst of the worst. Whether you think he actually killed Felipe Garzonas before Bruce benched him, or whether you think he didn’t, or that it was an honest accident...this was a hard line they were always going to end up on opposite sides of, and that inevitably was destined to create at least SOME kind of divide in the family.

But thing is, arguing that its okay to kill a serial rapist they have evidence that should convict him, but who keeps getting away with it because of diplomatic immunity and legal loopholes that show how ineffective a corrupt justice system is.....is NOT the same thing as arguing even to kill a murderer in the name of avenging your son that he murdered.....and even THAT is still along way away from.....

tossing eight heads in a duffel bag down onto a table in the middle of a meeting of local crime bosses as an intimidation tactic.

Felipe? That was Jason’s own personal thoughts and morality, his own perspective on right and wrong at work there, 100% him. The Joker? That was a natural, easy to follow extrapolation of those same thoughts and perspective and how they might change and grow as a result of the trauma of what the Joker did to him and how it affected him.

But Jason’s tactics when he first came back to Gotham weren’t either of those things. They were textbook League of Assassins methodology and justification.

And its just fucking WEIRD to discount that when examining his character and how he changed from the Robin he was to the Red Hood he became.

Like, even with varying canon takes, the youngest Bruce took Jason in at has him at about twelve. He wasn’t a trained acrobat like Dick, he was a malnourished street kid with none of the head start on his training that Dick came to Bruce with, already having it under his belt. Everything Jason knew how to do as Robin, the detective work, swinging around Gotham on grappling hooks, various martial arts forms and mastery of weapons....Bruce had to train him in all that from scratch, and that took time. Jason was at the earliest still only like 13 or so when he became Robin. And pretty much every take I’ve ever seen on his death has him at around fifteen when the Joker killed him. That’s two, at most three years of time spent training and being Robin, under Bruce’s tutelage.

Then things split into two takes....some go with the sequence of events where Ra’s or Talia take Jason’s body right after his funeral and put him in the Lazarus Pit, others go with the sequence where he was resurrected on his own, and was found by Ra’s or Talia a year or two later, still largely catatonic, with them putting him in the Pit to heal his mind the rest of the way.

But either way, by the time Jason comes back to Gotham he’s put at around nineteen or twenty, with it usually said that it was five years after his death, and AT LEAST two or three of those years were spent training with the League of Assassins, or with other teachers thanks to Ra’s or Talia’s patronage.

So.....any way you cut it, if you’re going with a take where Jason’s skills post-Robin come from training with the League....he spent at LEAST as much time being trained by them, with their perspective, in their methods, according to their philosophies....as he spent being trained in all that by Bruce.

There is no angle here in which they didn’t play EVERY BIT as much of a role in shaping him as the man he resents for raising him as a child soldier! With it also largely unacknowledged that even WITHOUT the effects of Pit Madness from the Lazarus Pit, you’re talking about a KID, someone who was either fifteen or at most seventeen by the time the League started training him....who is recovering from a trauma the likes of which pretty much nobody can even comprehend. While nursing a massive grudge and resentments born of insecurities and issues that carried over from his fucked up childhood from even BEFORE he met Bruce, and that Bruce absolutely failed in addressing. 

Again, no matter how you look at it, we’re talking about an extremely traumatized and impressionable and suggestible minor, desperate for anything to hold onto, any ideology to grasp hold of, any justification to make sense of all the shit that’s happened to him and where he goes from here, a purpose, a way to move FORWARD.

Like.....I’m all for Jason resenting Bruce raising him as a child soldier. What I DON’T get, is neither him nor anyone writing him in this way displaying the same awareness of the fact that....the League literally raised him to be a child soldier after he was brought back.

Same shit, different generals. That’s it. But again, that’s not an upgrade! That’s not better for Jason! That’s not an improvement over Bruce! It’s literally a lateral move!

And if your take includes ANY aspect of Talia training or overseeing Jason’s training to help him get back at her ex, someone she definitely has issues with at the time, no matter what canon or existing adaptation you’re going with.....you’re talking about someone literally weaponizing a traumatized teenager against her ex.

Ummm. Yeah. We’re just....not gonna call that better for Jason, or healthier for Jason, or in any way, shape or form to JASON’S benefit, okay? Cuz its not. No matter what his issues with Bruce, no matter what your issues with Bruce as a reader or writer, no matter where you fall on the ‘is killing bad people bad, y/n’ spectrum.....it is just deeply WRONG to just generically write Talia as forming a maternal bond with Jason WHILE he’s being trained by the League she holds enormous influence over, even if not as much as her father.....and act like this is the opposite of Bruce and how he failed Jason. Instead of just more of the same.

Like sorry not sorry Talia, but if you actually give a shit about Jason when he comes out of the Pit all traumatized and chock full of issues....you put him in fucking THERAPY, not How To Be An Assassin and REALLY Get Back At Your Dad 101.

And it doesn’t have to be that way, to be clear. You can write Talia taking off with Jason and toddler Damian in the middle of the night, abandoning the League of Assassins to take both of them far away and hide them so Jason can heal and cope and find himself and Damian can grow up not learning how to poison people by age five. You do that, all my objections vanish, THAT is infinitely superior to Bruce’s parenting, and that’s a parental bond with Jason I can happily stan as being for his benefit and to his betterment.

But no fic where he debuts as the Red Hood with years of League training under his belt has that. And this oversight is realllllly starting to get on  my nerves, lol.

Again, from both sides of the Jason camp, pro and anti alike.

Cuz if you’re a Jason fan for any reason, no matter whether you’re in favor of him reconciling or bonding with any or all of the Batfamily or not, why WOULDN’T you want them acknowledging that who he is now and what he’s done as the Red Hood has every bit as much to do with the skills the League gave him and the philosophies the League taught him as it does with what he learned from Bruce? That he was conditioned in these things while in a highly vulnerable point in his life?

And if you’re not a Jason fan, no matter the reason, it is again, STILL a massive oversight not to acknowledge that his actions and agendas as the Red Hood stem from years of being trained as a teenage assassin while in a highly vulnerable and thus suggestible state and with a clear lack of other options or support systems to counter anything they taught him.

Like I said, I’m pro Red Hood, I love Jason, I agreed with him back when he was arguing with Bruce about Felipe Garzonas. Jason’s never targeted anyone but the worst of the worst and he’s always displayed an ability to see reason and back down, he’s not some mindless killing machine. I lean way more towards his philosophies than I do Bruce’s, even if I don’t always agree entirely, and part of my point here is like...this isn’t about judging Jason for his actions or like, ugh, I really like Jason but I think he’d be even better if he was less murder-y, you know, more like Dick.

But like...the rest of my point is that I just honestly don’t see Jason’s actions and professed ideologies as one hundred percent HIS natural perspective, not influenced to an unhealthy degree by others in a position to take advantage of him at more vulnerable times in his life and sway him more to their positions. And THAT’S my problem with how little people reflect on the role the League played in who he became, AND with the insertion of a maternal and nominally supportive bond with Talia that’s written as being superior and more to Jason’s benefit than anything he shared with Bruce.

LOL even when I don’t mean to, like I definitely didn’t when I started this post, I always seem to keep coming back to how alike Dick and Jason and their stories are and how well and how often they parallel each other, because its the exact same issue I have with Dick. They’re just a very easy way to point out certain things about the other.

Like, I’ve talked before about how I think Dick’s aversion to killing, not when others kill but when HE himself is presented with killing as an option - its really just him being terrified of disappointing Bruce and being abandoned by him if he does so, no matter that he’s an adult now. Because I DO agree and always have, that at the very least, Bruce was at times emotionally abusive with Dick and Jason at least, with a strong case to be made for Damian as well. (Tim’s harder to gauge given that most of his time under Bruce’s direct care was at a time when Bruce was overcompensating for all the things he missed with Jason and blamed himself for, and ever since Jason’s return, Tim’s written as being so independent and removed from Bruce’s influence that its more like Bruce rarely has the OPPORTUNITY to fuck things up with Tim to the degree he has with his other sons.)

Sorry. Digression. Point being, like, I do fully agree with the interpretation that Bruce’s rigid moral code and how forceful and insistent he was on imprinting it on Dick, Jason and Damian has at times been emotionally abusive, and I think the effect of that is most clearly demonstrated with Dick, due to the simple fact that Dick has spent more time under Bruce’s care and tutelage than all the others combined. 

So my problem with Dick’s aversion to killing and how its so often hyped up in canon and in fanfics as him being so like Bruce in this regard, or just a Boy Scout, or ‘too good’ or ‘too pure’ to ever kill, at least not without it ‘breaking him’....that’s got nothing to do with me wanting Dick to suddenly go all trigger happy and kill his enemies with no problem. It’s just because.....I don’t think its Dick’s moral code at work there. I think its Bruce’s, and the way Dick’s written sticking to it without any self-analysis of where it came from and WHY he clings to it so rigidly, I view as evidence of conditioning due to how he was raised. With Dick so focused on other areas where he pushed back against Bruce he’s never really realized that how thoroughly Bruce influenced him in this regard flew completely under his radar.

It’s not that I want Dick to kill more, its that I want his choice to kill or not to be based on HIS choices, HIS morality, and not just a kneejerk response to conditioning he’s never recognized as such because who doesn’t have blinders on in regards to parts of our childhoods, you know?

And then circling back to Jason, I went on that tangent to emphasize its the exact same thing there, just in reverse. It’s not even that I DON’T want Jason to kill his enemies, to have the same philosophy or ideology or methods as Bruce or Dick or Tim. It’s that I want his choice to kill or not to be based on HIS morality, as the result of conclusions he came to after having the time and space and distance to separate himself from his various teachers and surroundings and decide for himself just what it is he believes, what choices and instincts are his naturally, organically, and which ones are leftover from his training by the League, drilled in by his instructors - just as he’s taught himself to recognize when his old training and lessons from Bruce are kicking in.

Anyway.

tl;dr - Bruce sucks and is a terrible parent but lolololol unless you’re going well off the beaten path from canon and faaaaaar away from where the League of Assassins can get their hooks in Jason to any degree, like...Talia is not better. Let Jason be Jason, not just a child soldier raised by your general of choice and aimed in the general direction of philosophies you agree with more than their opposite.

[suzie-guru]

Suzie Watched “Coco”...

...AND SHE LOVED IT! 

Ahhhhh, this scene! 

So, as I mentioned before, I wanted to write my initial impression of what the story is about before I actually saw the movie, for the sole purpose of looking back and seeing just how much I was off by. 

So, this is (gathered from what little snippets I have seen on Tumblr) Suzie’s impression of Coco: 

There’s a young boy named Miguel who loves music and playing the guitar (he also has a dog but that doesn’t seem to be too terribly relevant). He has a grandmother he loves very much, but he has to keep his passion for music and guitar playing a secret from her. There’s one famous musician he really admires, Señor Big Chin. 

Somehow, Miguel is transported into the Land of the Dead, where everything is super colorful and whimsical and all in all a really amazing tribute to animation and Mexican culture. There, Miguel meets a Hobo Skeleton named Héctor, who seems to be a pretty cool dude and who also loves the guitar and doing crazy stuff with his limbs/bones. He will frequently combine these two things in very clever ways. 

Héctor appoints himself Miguel’s guardian in the Land of the Dead since Miguel technically shouldn’t be there because he’s, well, living. Héctor, being a Hobo Skeleton, doesn’t seem to be very popular with the other skeletons (I don’t understand why, he seems like a really cool dude). Miguel eventually finds Señor Big Chin and wants to play with him at a big concert the Land of the Dead is holding. There’s a Skeleton Señorita Singer who is Drop Dead Gorgeous (bah-dum-tss) and both Héctor and Señor Big Chin are crushing on her. But Skeleton Señorita Singer wants nothing to do with our Hobo Skelton because apparently they have HISTORY. 

Miguel finds out that Héctor is suffering due to some strange flashing light which turn out to mean that someone in the living world is forgetting him. This person turns out to be Miguel’s grandmother because - SURPRISE - she was actually Héctor’s daughter he had with Skeleton Señorita Singer while they were alive, and Héctor loved her so much he wrote a song for her. 

But apparently Héctor pulled some Real Bad Shit when he was alive, which pissed off Skeleton Señorita Singer and made Miguel’s grandmother erase every reminder of her father and hate music. BUT BUT BUT--

--it turns out that Señor Big Chin was actually the one to pull the Real Bad Shit and stole Héctor’s song and basically set Héctor up before killing him. Why Héctor doesn’t remember this, I don’t know - maybe he was pickling himself with embalming fluids to numb the pain? 

Señor Big Chin is eventually exposed and banished from the Land of the Dead, Héctor and Skeleton Señorita Singer reconcile, and Héctor’s daughter/Miguel’s grandmother passes away and reunites with her father in the Land of the Dead and Miguel is able to carry on with his passion for music.

Also, there’s GREAT music.  

(So, that’s what I gathered from what I saw on Tumblr before I blacklisted things to keep myself from getting SUPER spoiled. And now I’m off to watch the real thing...! )

And now I’ve finally see it, and I can address what I had right and wrong and just generally gush about this wonderful wonderful movie <3 

What I got wrong: 

It was actually Miguel’s GREAT-grandmother who was Héctor’s daughter Ernesto never had a crush on Imelda (THANK GOD)

Ernesto basically stole ALL of Héctor’s music

Héctor had no way of knowing that Ernesto had poisoned him until Miguel pointed out the connection 

Héctor did leave his family of his own accord but he never intended to stay away for so long and he was trying to get back to them before Ernesto did him in. Therefor, technically, Ernesto didn’t frame him for anything just stole his music and murdered him the bastard 

I also thought Miguel would meet Héctor before he met Imelda 

Imelda doesn’t immediately reconcile with Héctor (MORE ABOUT MY FEELINGS ON THAT LATER) 

I also had not a single clue about Héctor desperation to cross the bridge/get his picture up before seeing this movie

OKAY. SO, THAT’S OUT OF THE WAY. 

This movie is STUNNING - not only in how it captures and honors Mexican culture, not only in its breathtakingly gorgeous animation, not only in its INCREDIBLE music, but in its story. Pixar films are revered for so many things, but for me, its their stories that are the heart of it. You can have the most breathtaking animation in the world, but will fall flat when it doesn’t have a story worthy of it. 

And my God, does Coco have a story that has both the happiest and heaviest of hearts. 

For me, it all comes down to Héctor. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a Pixar character as tragic as he is. 

(my poor sweet Skeleton Boy, I’m so sorry I called you a hobo)

Betrayed by his childhood friend. Killed before he could return home to the family he loved so much. Never got the chance to witness his beloved daughter growing up. Had his music stolen from him by his childhood friend. Continually rejected by Imelda and his family in both life and death. Almost is erased entirely because his beloved daughter so nearly nearly forgets him...

My God, my heart just breaks for him.  

And yet he’s so loving, all the same. He’s so encouraging and comforting, all the same. He could have been eaten up by bitterness - the rejections from his family, Ernesto reaping in all the fame and recognition that should rightfully be his - but his determination to see his daughter one last time outweighs that. Héctor flat out tells Ernesto that he never cared about the fame, he only wants to see Coco...

We met a Héctor who has suffered for ages upon ages, and yet he’s still not beaten down. I can only imagine what he was like in life if that’s how he was like after death...

I just love him so much. 

And that leads to...Imelda. 

I get it. Truly, I do. Héctor did leave his family to go with Ernesto, and we see how deeply that hurt Imelda. Héctor did want to stay away for so long, but it doesn’t change that he did leave. He had the best intentions, but they came at a horrible price. 

Imelda is actually one of the most realistic characters in Coco, in my opinion. She was hurt by the man she loved, and she took that hurt and made it into a weapon that both kept her safe and hurt her and her family. She made sure that she and Coco would survive and have a business and a legacy that would endure and help their family...but it came at the cost of Héctor’s memory and legacy. 

Imelda was strong and smart and loving. She was also angry, hurt, and bitter. She was at once incredibly proud and incredibly full of pain, for better and for worse. She was all those things, and is all those things. 

Did I want her to immediately forgive Héctor once the truth about what Ernesto did came to light? Yes, because I felt Héctor suffered so much already.  

But the thing is, Imelda also suffered. 

“And so what if it's true? You leave me alone with a child to raise, and I'm just supposed to forgive you?”

She wanted to forget about Héctor because remembering him brought back all the pain his departure caused her. Because she loved him. 

And now she has a chance to be back with him, let him back, and she is scared that as soon as she does, it will all fall apart. She has held onto her pride and her strength and bitterness for so long, all in the name of her family, that she doesn’t know what to do if she let’s go. 

The line above is a hard truth and Imelda, proud and strong and scared, uses it to lash out. 

He left her! He might have tried to come back, but that doesn’t change that he left her and their daughter! Doesn’t she have a right to be hurt? Doesn’t she have a right to hold onto her pride, her pain? 

But then when she sees what awaits Héctor...

“I... I can't forgive you. But I will help you.”

For someone like Imelda, so proud and strong and bitter and hurt, forgiveness seems impossible. I’ve often felt the same way. But even as she acknowledges that, she sets her pain and pride aside and helps. Because that’s what family does. 

And Héctor and Miguel just gave her the proof that Héctor wanted to be a part of her family...

I’m sure it’s just because I feel so desperatelyfor Héctor, but I really struggled with Imelda saying what she did when the truth came out. But everything I described above stands for a reason. Imelda has a right to her pain. And eventually we do see that she and Héctor reconcile...

But I desperately wanna read fanfic about Imelda finding it within herself to forgive. Because not only has Héctor earned it, but she’s earned it. 

"Forgiveness is not to give the other person peace. Forgiveness is for you.”

[lyndsaybones]

In Dreams 15

Chapter 1...Chapter 2…Chapter 3…Chapter 4…Chapter 5 …Chapter 6…Chapter 7…Chapter 8 …Chapter 9...Chapter10… Chapter 11…Chapter 12…Chapter 13...Chapter 14

“I just landed,” he says as he navigates his way out of the jetway.

“Hurry,” she says, her voice echoing.

“I’m coming, I’ll be there in half an hour.”

The terminal is bustling with people, like a churning sea of humanity. He finds he has a little bit of hate for each and every one of them who are slowing his ability to get out of the damned airport and closer to her.

There is a broad thunderhead moving in over the city, cleaving the blue sky in half like a long black curtain drawing. The air smells like impending rain and the heat seems to be dissipating by the minute. He slings his bag over his shoulder and makes his way to the nondescript four door rental car. He steps gingerly as an ache settles into his left leg. He wonders briefly if the healing bones will forever be an amateur forecasting tool.

He eases onto the highway, cars zipping past him at well past the speed limit. He remembers Scully jokingly referring to it as the North Texas Speedway the last time they were in town. He’s glad he remembers things like that now, although he’s not enjoying some of the other things coming back to him as much.

He navigates and finds his way to one of the local hospitals taking in the overflow of bodies and seems to find the morgue by instinct alone. The end of the hallway is guarded by a young man in fatigues with an MP armband. He passes warily and heads for the swinging doors straight ahead. Through the window, he can see her hunched over a microscope, fine tuning the view. Her pale blue scrubs are almost the same color as her eyes. A smile wells up on his face like a bubbling spring. God, he’s missed her.

She looks up and a tiny smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. It fades as quickly as it appeared as she tentatively looks around before waving him in.

He pushes the door open and notes that the room feels significantly cooler than the hallway.

“You okay?” he asks as he walks to her.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she answers as she grabs a pair of gloves and pulls gently on his sleeve. “It’s back here.” “What is?”

He follows her to the back of the room, hovering behind her as she snaps on her gloves and opens the heavy cold storage door. She peers around the room again, clearly concerned that someone may see what they’re up to.

She secures the door behind them and pulls a small tray off of one of the shelves and holds it up in front of him as she removes a small cloth covering it.

He blinks, trying to reconcile what he’s seeing in front of him.

It’s a hand. But it’s not. Not like he’s ever seen anyway.

It looks like an opaque gelatin mold, even the bones are somewhat transparent. Severed at the wrist, it’s obviously been in a fire but the tissue has not responded in the way he knows burnt flesh ought to.

“What the hell is this?” he asks, leaning in for a better look.

“That’s what I asked,” she says with a huff.

“It looks like a jellyfish,” he remarks, stretching back up to his full height. “I assume this was pulled from the building?” he asks.

“In a manner of speaking,” she says as she covers the hand again and places it back on the shelf. “It was lodged in the abdominal cavity of another body,” she explains.

“How did it get there?”

“It was likely projected,” she says with a shrug. “Whatever it is, someone is looking for it.”

“Who?”

“I had four military police officers in here asking if anything unusual had turned up,” she says.

“Unusual how?” he asks.

“They didn’t elaborate, but I’m pretty sure that fits the bill,” she says, pointing a gloved finger at the shelf.

“Why do you think they’re looking for it?”

“To make it disappear,” she says as she pulls off the gloves and directs him out of the freezer.

“So what have you been able to find out?”

“I wasn’t able to retrieve prints, the tissue is too far gone. But the samples I was able to analyze are...disturbing,” she says.

He follows her to the microscope, trailing a couple of steps behind like a lost puppy.

“This body was exposed to a pathogen, I see signs of a massive infection,” she says as she points at a set of slides on the table.

“Is it anything you’ve seen before?” he asks as he leans down and looks into the microscope.

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” she says in a menacing whisper.

“How the hell would a body with that kind of infection get into that building?”

“I don’t know, but we’ve got to get those samples out of here,” she says.

“Well, let’s go,” he says as he waves a hand at the door.

“It’s not that simple,” she says. “The kid at the other end of the hall has been checking everyone as they leave.”

“What for?”

“‘Preservation of the chain of custody’ is the line we got,” she says incredulously.

“They think federal officers would smuggle out prosecutorial evidence?”

“Well, they’re not wrong, it just has nothing to do with prosecuting the bombing itself,” she says with a mischievous smile.

“Put the slides in your bra,” he says.

Her brow crinkles and she glances down.

“Plenty of cover in there,” he adds with a grin.

She gives him a withering look, which he loves and fears in equal measure, and frankly, deserves at the moment. But it’s true, the bras have become bigger and more utilitarian in recent weeks. Her breasts seem to be following suit. He can’t act like he hasn’t noticed.

Her mouth tightens and her eyes narrow. He can tell she’s actually considering it.

“Go watch the door,” she whispers as she snatches up the slides.

When she emerges from cold storage he is rocking back and forth on his heels expectantly.

“What about the hand?” he asks.

“How much room do think I have in there?” she asks, exasperated.

“No, I wasn’t saying...geez Scully,” he says with a chuckle. “I mean someone is gonna find it, right?”

“Not likely, I just stuffed it back in that body.”

“I guess that’s one way to get it out of here,” he says with a shrug.

She realizes, as they push through the doors, that her heart is pounding furiously. Her gut begins to churn as the doors squeak as they swing back and forth behind them. She wavers a little and his fingertips drift to the small of her back.They draw closer to the young man at the end of the hall who steps at attention in front of the elevator door.

She can’t help it, she can feel the bile rising at the back of her throat and the angry wave of nausea hitting her full force.

“Scully?” Mulder asks quietly.

“I’m gonna be sick,” she whispers with a gulp.

“You alright ma’am?” the young soldier asks.

“She’s not feeling well,” Mulder says as he wraps an arm over her shoulders.

The young man blinks and looks at her with wide eyes. He’s still blocking the elevator door, however.

“Private,” she says, trying to stifle the rising tide. “I don’t have a bag on me, neither does Agent Mulder. Nothing for you to search. Unless you’d like to invest in a new pair of boots, it might be better to just let us by.”

He looks momentarily panicked, but quickly nods and steps aside, slapping the elevator button with the palm of his hand. The doors ping and open almost instantly and she is immensely grateful.

“I hope you feel better, ma’am,” he says meekly.

“Thank you, Private,” she says as Mulder helps shuttle her into the car.

The doors slide shut and she sags against him.

“You okay?” he asks, holding her more firmly.

“I’m dizzy,” she says, closing her eyes and swallowing thickly.

“I thought you were just trying to distract him” he says.

“It wasn’t intentional,” she whispers.

“Well it worked,” he says reassuringly. “When’s the last time you took your meds?”

She closes her eyes, trying to remember when that might have been. There’ve been so many bodies, so much work, she just doesn’t remember.

“I...I dunno,” she sighs.

“Okay, let’s get back to your hotel,” he says as the doors open.

They take a few short steps together and are out of the main doors and in the cool evening air. The gathering storm looks to unleash a torrent at any moment as lightning crackles through the clouds and thunder rumbles and growls overhead.  

She squirms from his embrace and dashes to the edge of the sidewalk so she can unload her stomach in the grass. Somewhere beyond the rawness in her throat and the involuntary heaving, she can feel his hand on her back, and his fingers pulling her hair away from her face.

“It’s okay,” he says, in dulcet, soothing tones. “You’re okay.”

She coughs and spits, angry that she’s almost used to the bitter tang in her mouth and the acrid smell.

Scully dozes in the car all the way to the hotel, which he is grateful for. The rain started pattering on the windshield almost as soon as he pulled out of the parking garage. As they drive, it is only getting heavier. Cars buzz by them at mach speeds, which he wouldn’t usually mind except for how hard it is becoming to see. Blessedly, they make it without incident and now his only concern is her. Get her inside, get her medicine, get her to bed. Nothing else. The evidence, whatever she’s stumbled upon takes a very distant backseat to her well being at the moment.

“C’mon, Scully,” he says as he reaches out and taps her shoulder.

“Hm,” she sighs as she rubs her eyes.

“We’re here,” he says. “Go on in, I’ll park the car,” he tells her.

She nods and hands him her spare room key as she gets out.

He’s soaked by the time he makes it into her room. She emerges from the bathroom, barefoot, but still in her oversized scrubs. She’s got the stack of slides she smuggled out wrapped in toilet paper in her right hand.

“Oh Mulder,” she sighs, shoulders sagging.

He looks down, shifting his weight from one foot to another and feeling the squish in his socks.

“You’d better get out of those before you catch a cold,” she says as she sets the slides on her bedside table.

“Dr. Scully, you ought to know better than most that a person doesn’t catch a cold from being cold,” he says as she crouches down to untie his shoes.

“Whatever, you’re dripping everywhere,” she says as she sits on the edge of the bed.

“Did you take anything yet?” he asks, shucking out of his soaked shoes and socks.

“Zofran with a Benedryl chaser,” she says with a yawn.

He nods as he peels out of his sodden t-shirt and goes to unbutton his jeans. She doesn’t seem to take much notice as she yawns again and lays down.

“I’ll go see about a room once this stuff dries a little.”

“Oh, don’t bother,” she mumbles. “You can just stay here tonight.”

Down to nothing but his jockeys, he knows he ought to feel exposed, but he doesn’t. He sits on the other side of the bed and watches her for a moment.

“You gonna sleep in those?” he asks as he reaches out and tugs on the sleeve of her top.

“Maybe, they’re pretty comfy,” she says.

“They have blood on them,” he remarks.

She rolls to her side, curls into question mark and opens her eyes.

“Why did you do it?” she asks softly.

He could ask what she’s talking about, but he knows. Why did he take the pills, why did he hide it, why didn’t he tell her what the Gunmen had found? He reaches out and smoothes her hair behind her ear.

“Because I’m a coward,” he says. “I’m sorry, Scully. I really am.”

She closes her eyes and nods, curling in more tightly on herself, becoming even smaller.

“I am too,” she says softly.

“God, Scully. For what?”

“For basically kicking you out,” she murmurs.

“I deserved it,” he says softly.

“We’ve got a lot to figure out,” she says, her eyes drifting shut again.

“We do, but it’ll keep,” he says as he leans in and kisses her forehead.

He didn’t expect her to reach for him, but she does, her hand clutching the back of his neck and ruffling through his hair. She opens her eyes again and as quickly as he connects what’s happening, it’s already happening. Her mouth is covering his fiercely and he can’t help but moan. She unfolds like a flower and wraps around him. He can feel the mound of her little belly bumping up against him, the strong muscles of her thigh as she drapes it over his hip and squeezes. He’s never been one to struggle with getting an erection, but this is probably the fastest he’s ever gone from flaccid to rock hard in his adult life. She levers his mouth open with her tongue and her hand is raking gently through his hair as she conducts a thorough investigation of his dental fillings. He grabs a handful of her rounded ass and she jolts against him with a whimper.

She rolls away, breathless and begins working her shirt up over head. Just as quickly, he is grabbing at the thin cotton of her pants and dragging them down her legs. She shifts fully onto her back and props herself up on her elbows. She looks so different, her now ample breasts, encased in a sturdy beige bra, sitting atop the gentle swell beneath. The alarm bells start going off in his head as he kneels between her knees.

“What?” she says, chest heaving.

“Should we be doing this?” he asks nervously.

She seems to become suddenly self-conscious, drawing her legs up and together, closing off.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me,” she murmurs. Her eyes dart around, anywhere but to him.

“Scully, no, no, no,” he says, reaching for her. “I mean is it okay for the baby? Safe, I mean?”

He cups her cheek and her skin feels like rose petal. She looks up and he can see what he’s done, a thousand little transgressions and half a dozen big ones are reflected back at him.

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he adds.

He watches her for a long moment, the blush across her chest and cheeks, the pulse thrumming under her jaw.

“Then come here,” she says, just above a whisper.