#like the monster baby who drinks his blood i think it would resolve the need he has to give of himself to the ones he loves

[spriteofmushrooms]

Please tell me about your pregnant JC thoughts, I am so interested in them.

Jiang Cheng becoming pregnant due to some sort of activation within the golden core? Classic. LOVE the idea of a chengxian baby who looks like Wei Wuxian and not Mo Xuanyu. It would break Jiang Cheng's heart every single day. Love the idea of Wei Wuxian avoiding Jiang Cheng so thoroughly post-canon that he only sees their child years later, when the resemblance is undeniable. Abandoned Madonna Jiang Cheng holding his son... Delightful.

Jiang Cheng being cursed with pregnancy and refusing to be cured because he misses having a baby? Ohh he's so fucking ready to play Rosemary. Of course he'll love his monstrous child. He's full of love. 💖 And blood, if his baby needs it! 🥰

Cursed to a sex swap? Jiang Cheng doesn't really care because it's not like it matters (my grubby little genderweird hands are all over this headcanon), but then, MAXIMUM fifteen minutes in, he stops dead in his tracks and places his hands over his belly. "I can have a baby. A-Ling, would you like a little cousin? I can have a baby."

(WWX: Aren't you forgetting something?

JC: No, people often want to have sex with me; I only need to find someone responsible. It's not like we have to get married.

WWX, who died a virgin and still thinks JC is 9 years old: WHAT?)

Omega Jiang Cheng? He would be sooo happy to have a warm, safe nest he rebuilt by hand. All of Lotus Pier is to his specification! Everything is by his design! IMAGINE the coziness that an omega Jiang Cheng would have established at every level in the family wing. How many bedrooms did he build for his future children, eight? That would be bad for your cultivation, Jiang Cheng...

He would be such a good mommy. (He is such a good mommy, but I don't think he lets himself take credit for any of Jin Ling's strengths.)

[redemptioninterlude]

sometimes, she selfishly thinks about how it'd all be if things were different. different choices, maybe, or it all simply not happening at all. it's an awful thing to realize about yourself, she thinks, because she knows that if she didn't put up a fuss, she'd be fine. what else she realizes, within her time spent locked up with the MONSTERS they seek to tear down to earth's realm, is that it was exceedingly easy, the banality of evil. people that they used to love. family. it's shocking, what someone could ignore in order to maintain a certain sense of comfort. sometimes she wants to ask sirius if he ever regretted the decision he'd made. she knew he'd deny it with all his heart, but the rejection of their upbringing certainly came with a certain blood price that few ever discussed.

that it's lonely not having your family. and strange, knowing how deep the strings run when it comes to any kindness afforded. how what little they can share with one another, she imagines ( or perhaps, truly imagines the things that tie them back together. she's just lonely, and it's hard not to imagine just how different things might have been if things were different. they've hardly had the chance to be young! but what can either of them do for it? "well then. perhaps i could offer you a little more CLEVER CONVERSATION and a little less of the dramatics and perhaps the both of us might leave here feeling a bit lighter for it. what do you say, my dear old friend~" that teasing push. that they could pretend that things were different sometimes, head tilting back as she knocked the rest of her drink from its container, pouring out for another glass. "so do we start this with a joke, or?"

but it's hard to keep that smile when he's talking about how everyone's being taken. how there's that flash of uncertainty on her face, like, wait, who could have been taken then, but she has to quiet the nervous twinge, the desire to ask for who. she's become far too good at SWALLOWING WHOLE her instinctive questions, knowing her concerns wouldn't do much of anything to resolve anything from here. war hardens them. head down, ready to barrel forwards. "well. james at least is somewhat trustworthy. i can't quite question your thinking there." she doesn't dig into what she knows must be a bruise of an emotion. she doesn't mention peter, nor remus. she doesn't what to know just yet what fractures them, when she'd hoped it'd be something she could walk out and find still intact within the world. what else has changed, so tectonically? "wait... lily had..?" the baby. the baby that she hints and teases at in their letters that they exchange on the low, she needs to draw a quicker breath, eyes tearing up with a determined nod. "harry... wow... she did it. no, sorry. they did. goodness. sirius, do you think you would have imagined one of us being parents already so soon after graduation?"

- @dementrd

he  looks  at  a  woman  who  had  once  been  a  girl  —  he  remembers  who  they  used  to  be  .  sirius  had  once  been  invincible  and so  strong  ,  his  hands  had  no  tremor  as  they  do  so  now  ,  raising  a  glass  to  his  lips  and  avoiding  the  eyes  of  an  old  friend  .  is  it  possible  to  recognise  one  another  any  longer  ?  he  does  not  know  ,  he  does  not  care  to  know  ,  he  wants  only  the  comfort  he  has  long  since  been  abandoned  of  .  how  he  wavers  between  his  well  known  joyful  chaos  and  his  even  more  intimately  known  fury  .  he  is  a  sulking  ,  skinny  little  thing  who  had  once  been  the  prettiest  boy  in  the  gryffindor  tower  ,  who  had  twirled  this  girl  around  to  the  loud  music  he  and  his  friends  blared  and  howled  into  the  night  because  life  was  ahead  of  him  instead  of  trailing  limp  and  lifeless  behind  his  weary  frame  .

pale  eyes  follow  marlene's  slender  wrists  ,  the  glass  against  her  lips  which  shouldn't  worry  him  ,  not  with  the  way  that   he  drinks  his  life  away  .  when  doesn't  he  have  a  glass  at  his  lips  ?  when  he  must  keep  his  friends  safe  ,  that  is  when  .  that  is  the  only  time  he  feels  truly  alive  ,  defending  those  he  loves  as  he  clings  to  them  with  both  hands  —  he  knows  too  well  what  it  is  to  have  nothing  else  but  the  family  he  has  collected  .  "  too  well  ,  i  fear  .  "  he  snorts  ,  lifeless  in  his  charade  .  it  is  so  tough  to  keep  this  up  ,  and  what  is  the  point  when  what  he  says  is  true  ?  marlene  knows  him  much  too  well  to  believe  a  stinking  word  .  "  maybe  one  of  these  days  i'll  find  something  to  smile  about  .  like  meeting  an  old  friend  and  pretending  ,  for  an  hour  or  two  ,  that  the  world  is  not  on  fire  outside  .  "  he  meets  her  eye  ,  this  time  he  gives  her  a  true  smile  ,  a  tired  and  aching  thing  on  his  lips  .

he  thinks  that  marlene  must  have  gotten  the  short  end  of  the  stick  .  sirius  is  living  what  his  teenage  self  had  always  believed  his  life  would  be  ;  he  is  fighting  and  unleashed  ,  aimless  though  he  might  be  ,  he  is  throwing  himself  headfirst  into  the  danger  awaiting  all  of  them  .  marlene  is  watching  their  friends  die  whilst  he  hears  the  news  secondhand  ,  heart  cracking  like  a  vase  in  his  withering  chest  .  "  they  are  taking  .  .  .  everything  .  everyone  .  i  don't  think  i  trust  anyone  anymore  but  james  .  "  it's  an  admission  ,  that  perhaps  he  can't  even  look  moony  in  the  eye  anymore  because  he  suspects  something  —  awful  .  "  they've  had  a  baby  too  .  "  his  smile  lightens  then  ,  the  whole  world  upon  his  shoulder  shifts  its  weight  for  just  a  moment  and  he  pulls  out  his  wallet  ,  retrieves  a  picture  of  his  godson  to  share  with  marlene  .  "  his  name  is  harry  .  i  think  he's  enough  reason  to  be  happy  ,  isn't  he  ?  "

[innocentbi-stander]

Can you do demigod jaskier? But this time he is the son of Hecate?

@localhalfvampire I need to preface this by saying you’re an absolute GENIUS

Demigod jaskier, but son of Hecate has so much untapped potential and I’m LIVING for it

A jaskier who has magic, who hides himself from detection by using his abilities to manipulate the Mist that shields demigods from discovery from the rest of the world (he shivers to think of what sorcerers like that bastard Stregobor would do if they realized that demigods, sources of pure godly power and ability were walking about the Continent, free to manipulate)

Obviously children of Hecate possess an innate talent for magic, each level of magical ability depending on the child, but nobody, not even Hecate herself, had been prepared for the unintentional powerhouse that is jaskier

And how fitting is it that the person who would care about ability levels the least ends up the most powerful child of Hecate to walk the Continent since Circe herself?

Jaskier was brought to camp at a young age, his noble father unwilling to deal with the baby of his one night stand with a goddess

He is raised amongst demigods and taught to defend himself and defend others from the monsters that plague the children of the gods

A sword is placed in his hand as soon as he is strong enough to grasp it, he learns to throw daggers with deadly accuracy, to shoot arrows at a target blindfolded

For all that jaskier is taught to be fierce, and witty, to speak gracefully with a silver tongue, there is nothing he picks up faster than magic

Magic to jaskier is like breathing, for he was born from the goddess of magic herself, it is woven into every piece of his being

Hecate is a tough parent, and she believes in  challenging her children and their abilities, and so it is no wonder when jaskier leaves camp to explore the world on his own, though he visits often

And then jaskier meets geralt and the rest is history

He spends twenty years chasing after the witcher (and though twenty years is not really a blink in the eye of an immortal demigod such as jaskier, that still matters) , there’s many hunts and contracts, aftermaths of jaskier stitching up geralt and lying about where he learned to sew skin so neatly

There’s evenings spent by the campfire, playing his lute and trying to ignore the way the firelight dances in geralt’s amber eyes

There’s laughs in taverns after a bit too much to drink, there’s lute strings tucked into his bag and no word of where they came from (though he knows), apples for Roach amongst complaints of destroying her diet, doublets ruined by days in the wilderness, and geralt’s barely there smile when jaskier produces honey cakes ‘given’ to him by the local baker

There’s inns, and shared rooms, then shared beds, and shared baths closer than close, and then there’s the djinn, and yennefer, and growing apart bit by bit

Jaskier possesses some of the greatest magic in the world, and there’s nothing he can do except watch the love of his life pick someone else over and over again and pretend not to be slowly falling apart

And then the mountain

Jaskier is alone for a little bit after that, wandering aimlessly 

He travels across the Continent, killing monsters that the rest of the world can’t even see, wiping yellow sulphur dust from his hands and wishing he was somewhere else

Jaskier visits camp and stays there for a while, but no matter how many times he comes back jaskier is a traveler at heart and never stays for long

Not far past the borders of camp, at a nearby village, jaskier learns that nilfgaard has been looking for him

He can’t bring himself to be even remotely surprised then when he’s ambushed on the path a day later

The first few parties of soldiers are easily dispatched with the use of his sword and daggers, but then at some point nilfgaard realizes that the ‘harmless’ bard has teeth and sends a small army

Jaskier really should have laid low and hid himself amongst the Mist ages ago, but he’s never been one for hiding (and frankly he’s a little bit insulted that nilfgaard seems to have thought him so easy to defeat and resolves to knock them down a few pegs)

Unbeknownst to the demigod/bard/whatever the hell else he is right now, there’s been a rather frantic witcher accompanied by a witch and a princess that have been searching for him for ages, following the trail of bloody groups of soldiers

Geralt hears of the army sent after his bard and reacts first with confusion on why an army is needed to take down one human man, and then feels blind panic. Rather hysterically, as he’s shoving his, yennefer, and ciri’s things into roach’s saddlebags, is the thought, he’s going to tear them apart

Which really makes no sense given that jaskier is fucking human, but geralt has always felt something off about him, something bigger, and regardless of that he’s seen jaskier’s more feral side and is comforted slightly by the thought that jaskier is hardly the type to go down without a wicked fight

Yennefer is less reassured by this information (your bard is going to get torn apart, not the other way around!) and ushers them off immediately 

When they reach the clearing where whispers of nilfgaardian soldiers has lead them, there is an entire small army present, at at the other side in the most bizarre looking fashion, is jaskier

He stands alone, but he does not look afraid

Jaskier faces the army of nilfgaardian soldiers, his doublet a shade of midnight blue, sword in hand, and a fierce look in his eyes that for some reason sends chills down geralt’s spine

He assesses the army, silent and calculating, finding something that nobody else can see 

The captain of the army shouts an order and the men charge forward, a smirk reaches jaskier’s lips

The army’s movement sparks geralt into action, what is he doing just fucking standing there, and he unsheathes his sword to somehow help his bard

But then there is a well manicured hand on his arm and a spell stopping his feet from moving farther, and geralt looks to yennefer to ask her what the hell she thinks she’s doing and pauses at the curious look in her eye

“Wait” she mumbles to him, brow furrowed, “Something isn’t right”

And geralt turns back to the battlefield and jaskier’s eyes are glowing

Jaskier sees the army charging forward and it takes everything in him not to laugh. They are fools, every single one of them

Jaskier whispers a quick prayer to the gods for luck (even though he doesn’t need it), and lets his magic explode

When the screams fade and there is nothing in the clearing but ash and blood drying in the dirt, jaskier wills his magic to return to his body

He scrubs at a little spot of blood that had managed to stain his sleeve, a new doublet at that, and considers maybe it is time to hide amongst the Mist, if not to save his poor beautiful clothing

The snap of a twig interrupts his musings and brings jaskier to alert, the hum of his magic singing through his veins, hands at the ready

Jaskier goes deadly still when across the clearing he spies two ghosts from his past, one of them with a rather unflattering look of shock across his face, and the other looking way too pleased with herself

When they both start to make their way to him, jaskier debates on whether he still has enough energy in him to shadow travel, anything to make a speedy getaway and the fuck away from this horrible confrontation

He raises his hands , willing the shadows to lengthen and warp, ignoring the persistence dizziness and figuring there’s no better way to find out than to try, only to be stopped by a sharp, “don’t even think about it bard”

His response is instant and without hesitation, “who the fuck made you the boss of me? If I want to get the hell away from here I’m very well going to, I don’t give fuck all what you’ve got to say about it”

Yennefer’s eyes narrowed and she snatched one of his hands, still shaking with overexertion. “I think your hands tell a different story, you’re exhausted.”

“Yes, well defeating armies will do that to anyone I suppose”, Jaskier reclaimed his hand and tried to ignore the fact that geralt had yet to do anything but stare

Purple eyes examined him carefully, “You never told me you had magic”

Jaskier laughed, a hollow sound even to his own ears, “I don’t really, not your kind. It’s a long story”

“Then you’ll have plenty of time to tell us when we get to Kaer Morhen”, at last, the White wolf had spoken and unsurprisingly jaskier liked absolutely none of what he had to say

He sputtered, and he was sure his cheeks were turning that infuriating shade of red they always assumed when he was particularly pissed off, “I’m not going with you anywhere!”

Geralt turned to the bard, focusing on him with an intensity that jaskier before the mountain would have killed to receive “Nilfgaard isn’t going to stop. They want Ciri. The armies will keep getting bigger and bigger, until whatever fucking powers you have aren’t enough”

Jaskier scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest “I can handle myself”

Something in Geralt’s eyes softened “I know you can. But you don’t, shouldn’t, have to. Come with us. Just for the winter. Then you can go wherever you want. Please”

There was a long moment between them, amber and blue staring into each other’s depths. Jaskier didn’t know what to think. It had been made clear on the mountain that the witcher didn’t give a damn about jaskier, and jaskier wasn’t big on wasting his time in places he wasn’t wanted. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

But geralt had never pleaded with him like that, never said please. There was a desperation in his eyes that jaskier had never seen before and without his permission he felt his heart melt a little. What was one winter?

“Fine.” jaskier spoke carefully, trying to ignore the small smile that formed on geralt’s face. “I’ll come for the winter. But after that I’m leaving and I’ll be out of your life for good”

Jaskier hadn’t forgiven Geralt. He was owed an apology, and a thousand other things. Yennefer was still a bitch, and he had no idea how geralt’s brothers and mentor would react to a demigod in their midst. But jaskier was lonely, and tired of being on his own, and as much  as he hated it there was a part of him that had desperately missed his witcher, no matter how much he had hurt him. 

It was just one winter, right?

He’d figure it out….. somehow

_______________

That went in an entirely different direction than I was originally intending, but the story just got away from me... I hope you enjoyed!

What do you think folks, worthy of a part 2?

[deanmarvolowinchester]

Coming out.

(Dean decides to come out to Sam about his secret relationship with Cas.)

Dean sat shaking on the full size bed in the shabby motel that he and Sam had been staying at for the last three nights. Dean bobbed one of his bow-legs up and down out of nerves. He had already meticulously cleaned himself, scrubbing every inch and even scraping the dirt from under his fingernails that he can never manage to keep clean given the many graves he has to dig on a monthly basis. He had already tidied the cluttered room and paced so much he thought surely he’d ware through the old shag carpet. These were all things Dean would do when he felt anxious and out of control. Dean very much enjoyed the feeling of being in control. He liked the reliability and stability he was able to wield when being in control of a situation, or the very least in control of his emotions. It is not as if he hadn’t felt out control and anxious before, he was a hunter after all. It is not as if he had never run in to sticky situations on a hunt, and there was certainly no controlling Sam when he set his mind on something. Still, this anxiety was different. Dean took a deep breath as he mulled over in his head what he had been planning for weeks. Cas had begged to be there at his side when he finally told Sam, but Dean would have none of it. He wished for this moment of complete vulnerability to be shared only between him and Sam. “Sam...” Dean thought and began to absently chew on his already too short fingernails. “What the hell is Sam gonna say? Is he gonna be shocked? Angry? Or worse... disappointed?” The thought was too much for him. Dean arose and walked over to the mini bar. He opened the fridge and cracked open a small bottle of whiskey, pouring the contents into a flimsy plastic cup. He sipped on it and tried to focus on the burn in his throat as it creeped lower into his gut. Moments later the alcohol began to take effect and his muscle, which had been extremely tense up until that point began to relax. He took another deep breath. “But on the other hand... what if Sam’s okay with it? What if he’s... happy? Maybe even proud?” A small smile spread across Dean’s face. He pictured what his life would be like if the brother whom he has devoted so much of his life to love and protect could truly love him back when he reveals to him his true authentic self. He pictured late nights out at bars, Sam and Cas laughing together at a joke he just made. He pictured road trips in the Impala and hunts; holidays and birthdays and movies late at night. He, sitting on the couch which Cas leaning against his chest. Arms and legs intertwined in a lose but affectionate embrace. He imagined kissing the top of Cas’s head, and Cas looking up to return the gesture with a light brush of his lips against Dean’s. All while Sam seeing but not reacting, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. And of course it was normal. Dean loved Cas and had for years. They had stolen kisses and nights together every so often, but they had never been able to be together in public. Dean wasn’t ready to come out to Sam, and Cas being ever patient had graciously waited. It wasn’t that Dean was ashamed or embarrassed; he knew lots of people in the lgbtq community and loved every one of them. It was that he was scared. Fear that had yet to be resolved since the death of his father. He knew deep down that John would never approve of his bisexuality, and although Sam was different, Dean couldn’t help but see hints of his father’s face in Sam’s when he was displeased. Even though Sam was nothing like their old man, Dean couldn’t bear to see John’s eyes in Sam’s if Sam took the news poorly.

It was then that the handle of the door began to jiggle, jolting Dean out of his thoughts. Sam was back and unlocking the door. The door swung open and Sam carried in what appeared to be bags from the fast food joint down the road. Sam kicked the door shut and threw the keys to Dean’s baby on the table. “I got us something to eat.” Sam said. “Oh... ahh awesome.” Dean responded, trying to shake off the nerves and look as normal as possible. Sam set down the food, pushed back the hair that had fallen into his face, and looked at Dean. “You okay?” Sam asked with confusion and a note of concern in his voice. “Who me? Yeah! Corse! Why?” Dean hastily replied. “I don’t know... you looked worried I guess.” “Oh well we’re hunters Sam... when are we ever not worried?” Sam shrugged and turned to collect his food from the bag. While he fiddled with his wrapper he suggested to Dean that they watch The Loan Ranger. He had seen in a t.v. guide that it was going to be on that night, and was excited to tell Dean given that Dean had a deep appreciation for westerns.

The brothers watched in silence as they ate their dinners. Sam was seemingly as engaged in the story as ever, meanwhile Dean was a wreck. He tried to slow his heart rate with calming breaths and another bottle from the mini bar, but his stomach was still in knots. The movie ended and as the credits rolled, Sam shut off the television and spun to meet Dean’s nervous gaze. “Alright. Spill.” “What?” Dean asked. “C’mon man. You’ve had two drinks and you’re still jittery. What’s up?” “Sam I... I don’t...” Dean trailed off. “Dean, you can tell me anything. I’ve seen it all.” “Well, Sammy, this is different...” “Different than Lucifer and hell?” “Well, yeah.” Sam took an exasperated breath. “Dean...” Sam looked at his brother. Typically Dean’s expression was stern, solid as a rock. Dean was always the brave one, always the confident one. That’s what made him Sam’s hero, but now all he saw in his brother was childlike fear. Sam softened. It was clear that whatever Dean had to say didn’t have anything to do with demons or monsters, it had to do with something Dean found far more terrifying... feelings. “Dean...” Sam said again, but this time softly. He met Dean’s eyes and gave him the same reassuring look that he usually reserves for the grieving family members of the victims who’s murders he’s so skilled at solving. There was a long pause as Dean gathered his thoughts. “Sammy... I... I don’t know where to begin. I... ummm... Ya see... I’m sort of in love...” another long pause. Sam stayed quiet giving Dean the space to speak his truth. “I... ummm... well for a long time now I’ve known, but never told anyone.” Dean pauses again. “I was so afraid of Dad. He had such strong opinions about what a man should be like and... and I never thought that I could express, or that I could even have... Sam... I’m... I’m bisexual.” The last word hung in the air. You could have heard a pin drop. Dean couldn’t breath. Terror spread across his body. He was out; his secret a secret no longer. He analyzed Sam’s face, searching for clues as to what he might be thinking. The worst possible thoughts swirling in his head. But instead of being met with judgement and rigidity, a warm and inviting smile spread across Sam’s face. “Dean...” Sam said with audible happiness in his voice “I’m so glad you told me. I’ve had my suspicions for some time. Dean, I’m so proud of you, and I know you’re not into the touchy feely crap, but you’re always gonna be my brother, and I’m always gonna love ya.” Sam chuckled “Who’s the lucky guy?” Dean blinked. He was preparing for the worst and was shocked to see that it was the best. “You mean it? You’re still okay with me?” Sam scoffed “Of corse! What? We’re you expecting me to get mad and throw something at you? Ya know just ‘cause I look a little like dad doesn’t mean I’m him, man. No. I think it’s great. Now I don’t have to see you strike out with every hot waitress we come across.” “Hey I pick up more girls than you, and I said I’m bi! Dude, I still like chicks, I just also like dicks. Like Freddie Mercury, Man, I swing both ways, which means there’s twice as much ass I can get, while you’re options are limited.” “Whatever. Just tell me who your boyfriend is. I think I should meet this man who’s got my brother all twitterpated.” Sam mocked. “Well... ahhh... you already know him actually. It’s Cas.” “Cas?” “Yeah. Why?” Dean said defensively. “Nothing. I just thought Cas would have better taste.” “Oh ha ha. You’re one to talk. You literally fucked a demon.” “And evidently you’re fucking an angel. Now one of us needs to bang a Leviathan and we’d have a biblical bingo.”

At that moment Cas appeared. “Dean?” Cas asked. It was obvious that Cas was asking if Dean had informed Sam of their relationship. “Yes. It went better than I could have imagined.” Cas beamed and strode across the room to embrace Dean. His hand slipped down Dean’s arm and his hand landed in the warm grasp of Dean’s. “Now Cas...” Sam said in a overly dramatic serious voice. “... if you break my brother’s heart, I’m gonna have to break your face.” Cas sighed as he traced the faint scar on Dean’s collarbone. “I don’t intend on breaking anything of Dean’s.” Dean blushed scarlet at that comment. Cas moved his fingers to Dean’s cheeks which were hot with blood flow. “Did I embarrass you?” Cas said in an apologetic voice. Dean looked down in shame. He wasn’t meaning to upset Cas. “No no!” Dean said quickly. “I’m just not used to... ummm being affectionate with anyone in front of Sam.” “Oh.” Cas replied. “Well don’t stop being blissfully happy on my account. Lord knows Dean’s happiness is always pretty fleeting.” Sam said with enthusiasm. “Yes. Well I’ll see to extending those periods of happiness as best I can.” Cas replied to Sam. And at that, Cas grabbed Dean’s chin and pushed it close to his. He leaned in, and slowly planted an affectionate but appropriate kiss on Dean’s soft lips. There will be more opportunities for inappropriate kisses later, but for now, Sam was watching and Cas didn’t want to make either of his favorite humans too uncomfortable. The two pulled apart, and by this time Sam was sitting at the table and flipping through t.v. channels trying to give them some space. “Thank you for being patient with me.” Dean breathed. “Dean, I waited to meet you for six billion years. I would have waited twice as long if it meant you’d be ready and that Sam would be on board.” Cas glanced over to Sam and smiled. “I’ve grown quite fond of our little family.” He looked back at Dean with a gleam in his eye. “Team free will, and here we are, finally free.” A huge grin stretched across Dean’s face. “I love you.” Dean said. “I know.” Cas replied, quoting his favorite character from the Star Wars movie Dean made him watch on their last date, and this time it was Dean who pulled Cas in for a kiss.

[thefivenights]

corpse, business man, and mother dearest?

i put it under a cut bc william is doing that blood tear thing again and i warn to read the tags because i dont just do those willy nilly and if i missed one please tell me so i can add it on!

Inspiration: I'm gonna be honest I have no idea

Micheal was a product of a drunken night between Jennifer and William and the direct cause to their marriage. Takes more after his mother in attitude and most of his looks.

While he had a somewhat better relationship with his father than William did with his own, he didn't have a healthy one. He craved any sort of attention or praise from his dad and soon resorted to bullying his siblings to get some form of attention. He never got any regardless and was told to 'try harder' and he'll be rewarded.

This bullying stopped after he shoved his brother into Fredbear's mouth and got suspended from school due to a nasty fight. This was partially due to being traumatized and also William allowing him to help out with his projects (aka Jen told him to and the couch wasn't comfortable)

He gained a talent for robotics and was even the one who made BonBon for Funtime Freddy

He had no idea until the events of Sister Location that the robots were made to kill, or that his sister was killed by Circus Baby. He genuinely thought that Elizabeth just ran away again.

Moved away from the house after his mom said William wasn't coming home again. Part of him was relieved.

Went to therapy and finally realized that his dad sucked and he can break this toxicity that seems to curse the guys in his family (well, most of them)

Got healthy male role models in the form of Henry and his Uncle and made some friends in the neighborhood

Curiousity kills the cat when he gets a message from an unknown number recommending a job at Circus Baby's Pizza World that featured some familiar faces (he was overjoyed at seeing bonbon again but not when funtime freddy was also involved)

When he took over the role of Mike Schmidt, it was less a new name and more of the actual Mike Schmidt needed to leave town for safety reasons and Micheal offered to just take his place at the pizzeria so he could focus on skedaddling (win-win)

Was unaware of Springtrap/Scraptrap being his dad until he spoke, and then Henry let Micheal have an extra taser because he refused to do his work without it handy (eventually it was agreed that Micheal would be allowed to have metal bat because he kept breaking his computer with the taser)

Grew close to Henry after the move and working with him made them closer, Micheal got a father figure and Henry got to care for someone again (to the point where they sat next to each other in the final moments)

Returned from the dead to assist other spirits with animatronic ties with the task of moving on, regardless of whether it was because of his father or not. Is assisted by his brother who took the form of Fredbear in what he finds to be the darkest joke Louis has ever made

Inspiration: I always think of the Clown from dbd but that's very loosely related but its a lot of the dbd killers tbh

Was always that kid who had animal skulls in his room, or knew just a little too much about medieval torture methods

Had a horrendous relationship with his father that was physically and mentally abusive

Was more or less raised by his older brother (who isn't that much older mind you) and his doormat of a mother, who he cared for dearly

Has only used a firearm once, and it was to finally rid the house of the monster that hurt everyone inside, he hasn't touched one since

Was forced to move to America by his mother after his brother convinced her that he killed her husband

Was favored by his mother over the elder sibling and was effectively free from punishment

Met Jennifer after she threw her stuffed rabbit his face with enough force that she made his nose bleed, she apologized but wasn't sincere ("He looked at me funny Ma!")

Was a little bit unnerving to be around but still managed to make a few friends when he was younger in the form of Henry, Jennifer, and a kid named Casey who went missing (and before anyone asks no he had no hand in this)

Was obsessed with robotics and made a promise with Henry to make robots when they got older

Learned how to play guitar so he could impress Jen, ended up embarrassing himself and also fell out of a tree. Surprisingly, she found this charming and asked him out (while also laughing)

Got wasted on his 21st birthday and take a wild guess what happened that night

Came up with the concept for Spring Bonnie thanks to Jen's stuffed rabbit and even helped make the springlock suit itself

When asked by Henry why he did what he did (aka murder) he just laughed in his face and started talking about freeing them from the monsters while also referring to himself as one. No one had any idea what he was talking about but managed to escape getting the police called on him. He had no reason other than he knew he could get away with it, figured he might as well play tragic villain to amp up the guilt

Probably should've gotten therapy after the move but never did

Genuinely cared for his children but had an obvious favorite in the form of Elizabeth (who wasn't even his)

Figured ignoring Micheal would keep him from patricide but just made things worse

Figured out quickly after a head count during that party with Circus Baby what happened to his daughter and made off with the animatronic as soon as possible, lying to his family that she ran away again but would turn up eventually

Has never laid a hand on his children but was unaware what total ignorance towards them would lead to

After the Fredbear incident he at least paid more attention to Micheal, if only to prevent the boy from shoving his daughter into another bear mouth

Is an excellent cook and good at drink mixing

Never really got along with his own brother but at least respected him for what he did (including the biggest cover he was ever given)

After Micheal made his intent to bash his dad's animatronic face in clear, he decided that Micheal was no longer a child and free to attack (he did get tased and also bashed with a bat a few times before being dragged to hell)

"I may kill children but at least I respect my son's pronouns"

Inspiration: an older friend of mine

Jennifer was always a rebellious child, and an oddity in her mother's eyes

On that note, the two never saw eye to eye on anything, and clashed daily

Resolved to never become like her mother and succeeded

Had a stuffed rabbit named monster truck that she liked to throw at people (namely the new british kid in the neighborhood who looked at her funny)

Was best friends with a kid named Casey Fitzgerald before they went missing

Chopped her hair off at the age of 15 and basically told her mother to suck on a lemon (but with more swearing)

Generally a delightful little child /j

Raised Micheal in a tiny apartment with her then boyfriend before they got the house they raised Louis and Elizabeth in

Saw the situation Elizabeth was in and pretty much just adopted her on the spot (there was some extra hurdles but they got their daughter in the end)

Was the one who actually raised the Afton children due to William being both busy and inattentive for various reasons

Wasn't perfect in raising her kids but was certainly better than her husband

Took dance lessons when she was younger and encouraged her children's creative behaviors

After Elizabeth "ran away" she found out about William's previous... activities and devised a plan to make sure he wouldn't hurt anyone ever again

She told him what she found but mentioned that she was just disappointed in how careless his plan was in terms of the four main animatronics having his face saved in their systems, meaning it wouldn't be long until the police were at their door

When he returned home from destroying Freddy, she insisted it was better to do it all in one night to prevent suspicion, however this almost gave her plan away when he mentioned it was stupidly lethal. She succeeded when he still went back stating that he was smarter than most people

When he never returned home she told Micheal to pack his things and anything else he wanted to take with him, they were moving to another state so they could have a fresh start. She waited til he was a bit older to explain why William never returned home

Encouraged Micheal to get therapy and tried her best to give him a balanced home life. This became easier when Will's brother decided to step in and help and the duo became good friends (what also helped was that he was a teacher at Micheal's new school)

Warned Micheal to be wary about the new job at the pizza world and when Micheal finally rid himself of Ennard she gave him a place to stay while he figured out what to do about his situation

Helped Henry and Micheal set up the fake pizzeria and even wrote up fake lawsuits and ads

Is still alive after all these years out of pure determination to outlive any form of her ex husband

[piracytheorist]

Still With Hope

Summary: After a particularly nasty nightmare, Killian tries to distract himself by spending time with Hope.

Warnings: Mentions of nightmares and one of our pirate’s unpleasant memories (keeping it in canon territory, though)

Shout-out to @jollysailorswan and @hollyethecurious for their quick assistance!

Word count: 2k AO3

~

There's the slightest sight of grey on the horizon when his eyes snap open.

His hand instinctively wraps around Emma's arm, which is still warm from resting under the blanket. She must have felt him shift around and wrapped herself around him.

He sighs, feeling a soft twinge in his heart. Even in deep sleep, she can feel his unrest and does her best to comfort him. It's the very thing that keeps him in bed, wanting to be there for her in case she has a nightmare herself, even though he itches to get up, walk around, do anything to distract himself from the thoughts and memories brought up by the nightmare.

His one-eyed vision blurs from the pain but he still keeps his eye open as Hades paces around him.

"I still see hope in your eyes... I would like that to be gone before you reach the water."

He keeps his eyes on the window, focusing on the far-off view of the sea. He doesn't want to allow his mind to wander there... to connect the words of a years-old taunting with his daughter, but with nothing else to occupy his mind it is not an easy task.

As if on cue, he hears the sounds of Hope waking up. A vague, long "Aaahh" that will soon turn to screaming if he's not there in a few seconds. Swallowing his apprehension for Emma having a nightmare - she won't have one anyway if Hope's screams wake her up - he unwraps her from around him and stands up, rushing to his daughter's room.

Her upset face blooms into a wide smile as soon as she spots him. Little rascal, he thinks and leans over her crib.

"Did we sleep well, love?"

She blurts out a sound and sits up, raising her arms in an ‘Up!' motion. He picks her up and without thinking, he embraces her tightly, forgetting how active she is as soon as she wakes up. She grunts in protest, now wiggling against him in a 'Down!' motion.

"It'll be a bit before you can walk down the stairs. Breakfast?"

As she drinks her morning milk, he puts her favourite fruits and some bran flakes into the blender, throwing glances behind him and reminding himself, every time, that it's Saturday and Curtis and Lenore will surely sleep in today. As will Emma, probably. They may not share blood, but their sleeping schedules sure do fit perfectly.

He only realizes how soon it still is when Hope is done with breakfast and the sun has just begun to rise. She'll want to play, and she's loud...

Within minutes, he's prepared both her and himself for a walk to the playground by the beach. She can play and be as loud as she wants, and he can walk out, breathe fresh air and let the sight of the sea calm him.

The playground is empty - not surprising so early in the morning. The single swing designed for babies is free, and Hope gets exclusive use of it. Her giggling as Killian swings her back and forth helps take his mind off the haunting sounds of his nightmare.

His Hope is not gone. She'll never be gone. She'll grow happy and loved and surrounded by family and friends, and even when she's old enough to take her own course in life, she'll always have a place in his heart and his thoughts.

As will his nightmares.

He swallows hard, barely holding in a desperate sound at the thought. Sometimes he still wonders if he's truly made peace with the fact that he will deal with what he went through for a long time in the future. Nightmares will keep coming - but so will the challenges of being a father of three. He's cut off alcohol for good, and a morning walk to the playground with his daughter is a much healthier escape, but how long can he deny to himself that this is exactly what it is? An escape?

He gasps in surprise when the intro of Killing in the Name blasts from his phone, holding back the curse before it leaves his mouth in Hope's presence. He's gotta change that blasted ringtone, as much as he likes the song it's not the first time it scares him when it rings.

"Swan?"

"Where are you?"

"At the playground."

He hears her sigh. "Is Hope with you?"

"Aye. You were worried?"

"Killian, we live in Storybrooke. We're some of the first people the Monster of the Week would target. I woke up and my husband and baby daughter were gone, his side of the bed unmade, not a note in sight. Of course I was worried!"

"I'm sorry, love. We were both up and she wanted to play, and she would've woken you up..."

"You didn't make the bed, you didn't leave a note..." He hears her take a deep breath then let it out in a sigh. "Never mind. It's alright."

"Emma, love-"

"It's okay. I was just worried, it's okay now."

Bloody perfect.

Too tired to resolve the issue through the phone, he opts for a "See you at home."

"Okay. Good morning too. Love you."

"Love you too."

Hope is blowing raspberries when he hangs up and steps to the front of the swing.

"Come on, love. Mama's awake and can't wait to play with you."

Mentioning her mother or siblings is the only way to get her on the way back home without her protesting, he's found. Indeed, the walk back is calm, only interrupted by Hope's blabbering.

Emma's by the door as soon as he closes the fence gate, smiling broadly at them.

"Hey, baby," she says as she picks Hope up from the stroller. "Papa took you to the playground? You had fun?" Emma's face falls a bit, though, as she turns to him. "You alright?"

"Is it that obvious?" he says softly, dropping his head. "The kids?"

"Still sleeping. I'd give Curtis a bit longer too. Comics are more important than breakfast these days."

He follows her inside and to the living room, where she puts Hope down at her very own toy-filled corner. Seeing Emma like that, face glowing despite having woken up just a while ago... he could watch her forever. At least she could have that. She has her own nightmares, but spending time with her kids is nothing close to an "escape" to her.

"You’re gonna tell me what's wrong or you’re gonna stand there and be mysterious?" she says.

"I'm sorry I didn't leave a note."

"That's all?" She doesn't seem convinced. "I told you, it's alright. I had just woken up and my mind went nuts. You were in a hurry to leave?"

He shrugs, crossing his arms. "She was up, wanting to move around and play. I figured she would make too much noise and wake everyone up here."

She looks down at Hope. "Did you want to get out?"

Her tone is serious; she's read him already.

Sighing, he sits down next to them, facing Emma. "Nightmare. Pretty nasty this time, thought some air would do me good."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He closes his eyes, rubbing at his forehead. "Hades. It wasn't just the nightmare, it was what it reminded me of." He sighs again. "Emma, I needed to do something so much, to distract myself with something..."

"You took Hope out on a walk. The weather's great, she had her fun."

"I can't be using our children as an escape."

"You're not... 'using' them."

"But it's not about them. Every time I take Curtis on the Jolly Roger I think of the sea and how it calms me. When I took Lenore stargazing I thought of old memories of Liam teaching me about them. And today, it was about doing anything to not think of Hades, I didn't even think long enough to leave you a note. You were right, we are high on the list of potential victims by new villains."

"Well, we haven't had any in some time, don't you think?"

He doesn't respond. What could he say to that?

She takes his hand in hers. "I don't think your ship will ever stop reminding you of what the sea means to you. You've been on it longer than you've been with us, with me. Or the stars, or anything that means a lot to you. It doesn't mean you should feel bad for sharing those things with the kids."

"I shouldn't be the priority. It should be about them."

"Killian... we can't just abandon ourselves just because we have kids to look after. It's more of the opposite. You know, Archie talks to me a lot about how children can see when we have issues. Curtis sees it. Lenore may be a bit closed off still, but I guarantee you she'll see it too. If we hold back on our own healing it would impact them too."

He nods.

"But I'm not gonna play shrink here,” she adds. “Do you remember something you told me, when we were looking to adopt Curtis?"

It strikes him suddenly; Emma couldn't sleep and she started crying, fearing how she only wanted to adopt to heal her own wound of never getting adopted.

"They'll know how strong we are."

"We are facing it. What hurt us, what we missed... and we do that with our family. You think it's an escape - but you're there for your kids. You're teaching them that it's with each other we can face it. And they'll know, when they grow up and get it, they'll know how much strength that took, and that we were with them, not despite our pain, but through it. It will inspire them." She leans in a bit further, leaning her forehead on his. "It's okay for them to know that even their parents are not perfect."

He closes his eyes, going back to his own words to her. This is a discussion they’ve had before many times, with both of them having been on the worrying side at least once. He knows healing is a process, and discussions like these will keep happening. But they are discussing it, and he chooses to see the positive part of it.

"We've already made a lot of progress. And I know you don't want to think about it, but maybe their lives won't be perfect either.'

He squeezes her hand back; that's not a welcoming thought indeed.

"But with our example they'll know they can count on family... they'll know that's what family is for. That they don't need to face anything alone."

He swallows a sob. He would have welcomed having that way of thinking so many times in his lonely centuries. Emma wraps him in a hug, burying her fingers in his hair.

He was one who, as a child, thought of his father as a perfect man. He should know not to let his own children be blinded by the love they have for him.

This time he can't hold the sob back. Love. Curtis may not have told it yet, and Lenore doesn't tell them much anyway, and Hope is still too young... but he knows it, deep in his heart, that they all do love him. Despite-

No. It's all of him. His happy and his pained self. He's no lesser because of either or both.

"Mama. Papa."

They break the hug, only slightly, to let their youngest one in on the side.

"See?" Emma whispers. "She wants to be part of it. They all do." She kisses his cheek, then Hope's wild, red hair. "The least we can do is let them know we'd do the same for them."

Closing his eyes, he leaves a kiss on Emma's hair, holding them both tight.

It may take a bit; but he'll know it, one day, that he can't pretend to be perfect for their children. But being there for them, and making sure they know he is, that he can. And he will.

[shirtlesssammy]

5x22: Swan Song

In light of recent news, we thought we’d finally tackle what might have been the end (until someone went and made a demon deal, giving us 10 more years of our beloved show!) It’s weird watching this and seeing what a bummer this all would have been if it had ended like this. Sure, it was epic, but I guess I’m a sucker for a happy ending when it’s about characters I’ve come to love more than my own family. I’m also going to point to this Twitter thread about good and bad show endings. Swan Song wouldn’t have been bad had we only had TFW for five years, but we’ve watched them grow over 15 years now, and I want to see them get some peace. (Thanks to all the meta writers for throwing out the much needed hope!)

The Road So Far:

Carry on my wayward son...

Now:

We open with Chuck Shurley narrating the origin story of the most important object in pretty much the entire universe. And I’m literally two minutes into rewatching this episode and already crying. He’s tells us about it’s original owner, Sal Moriarty. (Oh, Eric Kripke, of course it was.)

And how, after he died, it ended up in the hands of John Winchester, after some persuasion by his time traveling son.

Fade to Sam and Dean in Bobby’s salvage yard, drinking beer from the little green cooler. Dean tells Sam that he’s “in” on having Sam say yes to the devil.

Dean acknowledges that Sam can make his own choices. “Watching out for you? That’s kinda been my job, you know? More than that, it’s kinda who I am.” Seeing this image Dean has of himself shift to NOT be this is really great. Dean asks if this is really what Sam wants. Sam is more resigned than enthusiastic to the plan, obv.

Cut to Team Free Will collecting demon blood like they’re stocking up for the apocalypse (err..). Dean confers with Bobby about Lucifer’s location and they determine it is Detroit.

Once on the road, Dean can’t help but notice what a cute, slumbering angel he has in the backseat. Sam logically points out that angels don’t sleep. They talk about their plan, the odds of it working, and the reality that Sam won’t be coming back from the cage. Sam makes Dean promise that he won’t try and get him back. Dean balks at the idea. Sam makes him promise that he’ll find Lisa and live “some normal, apple pie life.”

Once in Detroit, the group finds many demons out and about. Sam and Bobby have a moment. Then Sam asks Cas to “take care of these guys” for him. Cas tells Sam that it isn’t possible. Sam asks him to humor him. Cas catches on just a little too late that he’s supposed to lie. Oh Cas, you beautiful, literal goob.

Sam then gets to the business of downing four gallons of demon blood. With that done, Sam and Dean turn themselves in to the demons, who bring them to Lucifer.

Chuck continues his monologue on the Impala. He mentions the unimportant features, and then mentions the important features: Sam’s green army man, Dean’s legos, Sam and Dean’s initials. The devil doesn’t know or care about their car.

The devil wants to know what Sam and Dean are up to.

Sam says he’s ready to say “yes.” The devil reveals that he knows they have the rings that will reopen the Cage. Fuuuuuck. Sam tries bluffing, but the jig is up. Dean’s look of anguish is devastating. Lucifer likes his odds on the battle that will happen in Sam’s head. He agrees. Before Dean can do anything more than say “No”, Sam says “Yes.”

A bright light flashes and Dean finds Sam knocked out on the floor. He throws the rings on the wall and gets to opening the door to Hell. Sammy awakens and Dean helps him towards the portal. Only, PSYCH! It’s actually Lucifer. Sam didn’t stand a chance against him. He closes the portal and takes the rings.  

Once away from Dean, Lucifer has a moment with Sam, where Sam makes it very clear that he’s not done fighting.

Lucifer appeals to Sam’s worst feelings about himself, but says he wants Sam to be happy. Sam doesn’t want anything from Lucifer. Lucifer then points out the group of demons behind him. They’re all people Sam knew in his life --they were all watching Sam for Azazel.

Dean, Bobby, and Cas are watching the fallout to Sam saying yes.

Shallow Sidenote:

(Those curls!)

Cas suggests they “imbibe copious quantities of alcohol and just wait for the inevitable blast wave.” GRIM, DUDE --but he ain’t wrong. Cas doesn’t think there’s any way they can stop Lucifer and Michael meeting. Dean is not giving up (and he’s desperate guys -his insult at Cas was way harsh). Bobby’s even resigned to the reality of the situation.

We cut back to the room full of demons, but they’re all dead this time. Lucifer smugly looks at Sam in the mirror. “We having fun yet?” Ugh, Lucifer, you’re the worst.

Chuck’s narration cuts in like a road narrative, all misty colored and gentle. “They could go anywhere and do anything. They drove one thousand miles for an Ozzy show, two days for a Jayhawks game. And when it was clear, they'd park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on the hood, and watch the stars for hours without saying a word.” This beautiful interlude dissipates with a phone call and Chuck picks up, expecting Mistress Magda. (Eyebrow waggle.) LOL, nope! It’s Dean.

“You got a real virgin / hooker thing going on, don’t you?” Dean observes. Excuse me while I laugh forever over this line, with the confirmed Chuck-is-God context. Dean wants to know where the fight will happen. It’ll be at Stull Cemetery at high noon, just outside of Lawrence. Chuck doesn’t have any more useful information than that…but it’s a place to start.

Bobby and Cas try to prevent Dean from heading to Lawrence to intervene in the upcoming archangel showdown but their arguments are weak sauce compared to Dean’s need to save Sam. He heads off alone to Stull.

The cemetery is wispy with mist and bedraggled with age. Michael (wearing Adam) flaps in to greet Lucifer. (Side note: Saying that Michael is “wearing Adam” sounds like Adam is a fashion designer. In this epic showdown, Michael has been dressed by the FABULOUS Adam!) 

Both brothers seem regretful, but ultimately resolved. Lucifer questions why they’re fighting if neither of them wants to do it. Michael trots out the old “duty” argument. Lucifer offers an alternative: “We’re going to kill each other. And for what? One of Dad's tests. And we don't even know the answer. We're brothers. Let's just walk off the chessboard.” Hey, guys. It’s a really good point. It’s also an intentional mirror of Dean, Sam, and John that I refuse to stop getting emotional about.

Michael’s tempted for a moment. Damn serpent!! “I’m a good son,” Michael decides. “You haven't changed a bit, little brother. Always blaming everybody but yourself.” This is also an excellent fucking point, man. The rumble’s still on.

Speaking of rumbling, Dean approaches in Baby with Def Leppard cranked up loud. FUCK YEAH. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?” To quote Tess McGreer’s Twitter feed: MY SON!

Michael’s not into the whole threesome battle, and heads threateningly towards Dean when the camera cuts suddenly to Castiel and Bobby who have just flapped in. “Hey, assbutt!” Castiel shouts before lobbing a holy oil molotov cocktail at Michael. Bless.

Michael poofs away. “You got your five minutes,” Cas says to Dean just before Lucifer explodes him. NOOOOOOO

Lucifer’s pretty crabby by this point, so when Dean tries to verbally reach Sam again, he hurls Dean into Baby. Bobby shoots futilely at Lucifer before Lucifer snaps his neck. NOOOOOOO

“Sammy, are you in there?” Dean asks desperately. PROTECT.

“He’s gonna feel the snap of your bones,” Lucifer promises Dean. He’s gonna kill Dean slow. I’d chortle over the classic villain “kill you slow” trope except that Lucifer is beating Dean bloody and it’s really, really not funny.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” a very battered Dean tells Sam, leaving me to stare into space thinking about how he must have said this on quiet nights, comforting young Sam over nightmares or monster-under-the-bed scares.

Lucifer draws his fist back to deliver a killing blow as Dean slumps in his hold. His eye catches on a little army man stuck in the ashtray and we get a montage of Dean and Sam moments set to the soundtrack of howling wind. Sam’s fist uncurls.

And that’s it. Sam takes control. “I’ve got him,” Sam tells Dean. He hauls the rings out of his pocket and tosses them to the ground, chanting the incantation to open the cage. Dean sprawls on the ground, leaning against the car, bloodied and broken. Sam panics at the threshold to the cage when Michael!Adam appears. 

Sam takes one more look at Dean before he opens his arms wide, ready to plunge into the cage. As Michael tries to haul him back, Sam pulls him in as well.

With a blast, the cage closes and Dean is left alone in the quiet, wind-swept cemetery.

He looks up a while later to find Castiel standing behind him, whole and unblemished. “You’re alive?” Dean asks.

“I’m better than that,” Cas says and…okay. He heals Dean with a touch, then brings Bobby back to life. Good job, Cas bby!

“Endings are hard,” Chuck says, and the scene switches to his office once again. “Endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass.”

We switch back to Dean and Cas in the Impala. Cas is headed back to Heaven to try to bring order upstairs. He’s ready to continue his heavenly mission, but Dean’s pissed off. “Where’s my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole.”

“You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same. I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace or freedom?”

Cas flaps out. “You really suck at goodbyes, you know that?” Always, Dean. Always.

Dean says a temporary farewell to Bobby, then shows up at Lisa’s house, CLEARLY TRAUMATIZED. What a non-booty booty call. Lisa reads the room and pulls him in for a comforting hug. (Stay tuned for my 8,000 word essay on why Lisa is the best.) 

“Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny, and God himself, they made their own choice. They chose family. And, well... isn't that kinda the whole point? No doubt endings are hard. But then again nothing ever really ends, does it?” Chuck vanishes, which is apparently his equivalent of dropping the mic.

Then, the show proceeds to not end, in the best way. Dean is still lost at Lisa’s, putting on a “normal” front. And outside, Sam appears under a flickering street light. To be continued…for ten more seasons. <3

Quoting is Hard:

This 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car – no, the most important object – in pretty much the whole universe.

As far as foreboding goes, it's a little light in the loafers.

Ain’t he a little angel?

I told you. This would always happen in Detroit.

MFEO. Literally.

I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol and just wait for the inevitable blast wave.

Cas, are you God?

Every fiber he's got, wants to die, or find a way to bring Sam back. But he isn't gonna do either. Because he made a promise.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[harryandmolly]

The Long Way Home -7-

Summary: His world is a little rocked when Shawn is joined on his 2019 world tour by Emma, a former child star with a chip on her shoulder and a voice that haunts him.

Warnings: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DISTURBING CONTENT INCLUDING THE FOLLOWING: Drug references, drug use, underage drinking, panic attack, nonconsensual sexual contact, parental emotional abuse

Word count: 4.3k

Emma totally gets what Taylor meant now when she sang “never heard silence quite this loud.”

Shawn is staring at her like he didn’t even hear what he just said to her. She can only imagine the look on her face.

“I…” she begins, heading nowhere. Her breath catches somewhere in her chest and never quite releases.

He sits up to look at her more closely. Despite herself and the tension in the air, she chuckles at the way she has to tilt her head back to look at him. He smiles sleepily. She thinks he might tip over again at any moment. She lifts her shaking hands from her lap to plant them on either side of his shoulders to steady him.

He doesn’t lean sideways like she’s anticipating. His face falls into hers and she doesn’t realize until a few seconds in that it’s on purpose and his hands are on her waist and they’re not moving and he’s not desperately tonguing at her lips. Even plastered, he’s a fucking gentleman.

Emma wants to scream. Her inner self is throwing a tantrum, trashing the inside of her suddenly very sober brain. Not now, it chants hopelessly, not now!

This kiss of theirs is as close to perfect as any she’s ever had but unfortunately, that’s not saying much. It’s bourbon-saturated and he hiccups into her mouth a little, or maybe it’s a gasp, and it would be sweet and endearing if this weren’t their first kiss but it is and it’s all wrong.

Emma has this fantasy borne from too many Disney princess movies on roadtrips to and from pageants as a kid. Aside from Hermione Granger, the princesses were her preselected role models, handpicked by Sandra. This fantasy of hers is of a life-changing kiss – not foot-popping, like the Princess Diaries, but curse-breaking, like Sleeping Beauty. Evil-quashing, like Cinderella.

Emma wants to drown Emma Kingston with one kiss, kill her dead with the press of his lips against hers. Because Emma Kingston feels like her curse.

It’s too easy, she knows. She must take charge of her own destiny, she knows. The Disney princesses, while great role models of hair maintenance and the care taking of woodland creatures, are not who you look to when your life needs changing. But goddamnit, Shawn looks so much like a flesh and blood Disney prince, she couldn’t help but imagine leaving her cold, dead shell behind the first time he kissed her.

If it were going to happen that way, they would’ve needed to have resolved the unresolved. He would’ve had to admit he was wrong to judge her, to try to fix where she’s broken (even if, in a backwards way, it’s exactly what she wants. She just doesn’t want him to try to do it – it should be a happy side effect of true love’s first kiss). Instead, they’ve been practically country line dancing around each other for days. Hell, Emma has a fake boyfriend she ditched to drag Prince Eric’s drunk ass home.

But instead he cut out the part that makes the viewer a little more secure in the idea of the happy ending. For the happy ending to be at all believable, their arguments are solved! Their monsters are slain! Their obstacles destroyed! But, as Emma notes the hint of smoky whiskey on his breath, even with her eyes shut, all she sees are monsters and obstacles.

She allows herself one gentle pull of her hand through his hair from ear to the back of his hot neck. He whimpers into her mouth and she knows, unequivocally, this isn’t how she wanted it to go.

She pulls away, nudging his nose with hers as she does. He looks more dazed than before. She feels a sizzle of accomplished pride in her gut as she manages to stand from the bed.

“I’m going to ask Geoff to come stay with you.”

It’s all she can manage to say before she walks out, chest spasming with her quivering breaths.

+

Emma is quiet at boozy brunch the next morning. Ashley has taken her out somewhere to be papped in Chicago before she gets on a plane to New York and Emma is on the bus to Missouri, of all places.

In the cold light of day, Emma is still warm with the memory of the imperfect kiss. The alcohol in his blood had him radiating heat at her even more than usual. She’s sitting back in her overstuffed armchair fiddling with her necklace and thinking when Ashley squeaks.

“Ooh! Before I forget,” she hums under her breath, reaching into her purse and palming a tiny packet of pills. She passes them to Emma beside the table where no one can see. Emma’s eyes widen and she snatches them, stuffs them away before they can be spotted.

“Ash, I told you I didn’t want more of these.”

“They’ll help you sleep, baby,” Ashley responds dismissively without looking up from her phone. Emma blinks hard. The image of Sandra has patched itself over her friend in Emma’s mind’s eye.

Flustered, she looks away, sipping at her mimosa. Hair of the dog, Ashley said.

She thinks about the way Shawn fell into her last night. She thinks about how it felt to hold him up, to hear him groan into her mouth like she was doing him a favor. She thinks about how, rather than a poor, hapless fairytale princess, she felt more like the prince. And he was her damsel in distress.

She snorts at the realization. She glances to Ashley who still hasn’t looked up from her phone. Emma thinks immediately of Georgie, the only person she knows who would appreciate this moment.

So, Emma thinks to herself, if she’s the prince and he’s the damsel, she’s got to think like a prince. What do princes do after the first kiss? In a Disney movie, there’s usually an immediate wedding. In lieu of that, Emma thinks a text may be appropriate.

Emma: feeling ok this morning?

She sends it off and looks up as Ashley stands with her bag.

“You ok?” Emma asks. Ashley shrugs.

“Need a little pick me up. You want?” Ashley shakes her bag at Emma suggestively.

Emma blinks. Her lips tighten. She shakes her head. Reactionless, Ashley turns and wanders off to the ladies room.

Emma hasn’t spent a lot of time feeling bad for Ashley during the time she’s known her. She’s always seemed free, which Emma admires and envies more than anything. But, as Ashley stalks off, subtly looking through the faces of each restaurant goer to soak up their fascination, on her way to do a line of coke off the ceramic rim of a brunch spot sink at 11am, Emma feels a twinge of pity.

Emma’s eyebrows lift again with realization number two: maybe the kiss did break one curse.

+

Emma cuts brunch short to call Georgie. She doesn’t tell her about the kiss, she doesn’t tell her about The Princess Theory. She just wants to hear her voice and ask how practice went and pester her about the guy she wants to ask to Homecoming. It’s a very fulfilling 30 minutes.

She doesn’t remember until she’s back at the hotel after the call, after Ashley’s departure, that she still hasn’t heard from Shawn.

She frowns at her phone and tries not to worry. Another hour later, she’s at her limit.

Emma: Pls tell me you didn’t aspirate vom in your sleep :)

She punctuates it with a smiley but she is legitimately concerned. Fifteen minutes later, the silence breaks.

Shawn: Haha hey sorry I’m ok

Emma scoffs. That’s it?! If Aladdin texted Jasmine after their first kiss, he totally would’ve gotten more out of her than “haha hey sorry I’m ok.” There’s barely even any punctuation there!

She refuses to become hysterical. He’s probably just busy. He has a radio interview this morning before bus call to get off to the next tour stop. He’s probably hungover and having to appear bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, which she knows very well is exhausting.

If she knows him at all, he’ll find a way to get her alone before too long and they can talk. She can admit maybe, now that her rose colored glasses have shattered under Ashley’s Miu Miu platforms, he was a little right about her hanging out with the wrong crowd and doing some things that, if she continued to dabble in, could really fuck her up. And she’s fucked up plenty on her own, thank you very much. Hopefully he’ll also back down from his high horse approach too because it was a little obnoxious but she’s sure he’s realized that by now because he’s wonderful and humble and sweet and caring and beautiful and he said he likes her and—

She’s stepping off the elevator and sees him at the end of the hallway. She stops short and stares, unsure of how to proceed, until the goddamn doors start closing on her and she has to skitter out of the way as she mumbles “owww,” getting his attention.

He’s following Andrew into his room but he hears her and glances back. She half-smiles and only starts to raise a hand. In confused horror, she watches Shawn blanch at the sight of her and quickly turn away, safe behind a locked hotel room door. She stands in front of the elevator staring blankly at the carpet, picking at her fingernails.

He’s never treated her this way. Even when he didn’t like her at all, even when he thought Emma Kingston was all she was and didn’t care too much to get to know anything underneath, he never acted like a hungover frat boy avoiding the hook-up he’s ashamed of. Her cheeks are as pink as her stilettos.

The worst part is not knowing what it means. Is he embarrassed of his confession? Did he maybe not mean it? Of course he meant it. Boys that check your Spotify to see what mood you’re in and text you from a bus away because he “knows you’re pissed when you’re blasting Patsy Cline at that volume” don’t say they like you and not mean it.

So, what the fuck?

Maybe, she considers, wandering toward her door a few steps from his, listening to his muffled voice and laughter from behind a wall, maybe it doesn’t matter that he likes her and he knows it. Maybe he knows what it means for him to like someone like her. He already knows she’s two people in one body. That’s enough drama for any one man. But on top of it add crazy fans, crazy career, crazy mom and manager and it’s almost certainly a dealbreaker. Not to mention that her music really sucks so she essentially has no dignity at all as a potential girlfriend.

So maybe he likes her. And maybe it doesn’t make a goddamn bit of difference.

+

Shawn can’t hear a single word Andrew is saying.

He knows Emma’s a few feet away. His whole body feels it like an itch. He feels like such a miserable fucking prick for how he treated her. She deserves so much better from everyone, but especially him.

He got jealous of fucking Kyle Dillon and drank himself into oblivion. Worse than that, she had to be the one to tote his ass home and skillfully avoided paparazzi and fan cameras to do it. Andrew confirmed there’s not a shred of evidence he wasn’t snuggled in bed last night watching romcoms on his hotel TV instead of slumped over against her strong shoulders, breathing in her expensive perfume.

He knows what he said. He knows what he did. God, why did it have to be that way? He probably made her feel cheap, like she was a drunken whim and not someone he’s been thinking about night and day for months. He wanted their first kiss to be different. He wanted to put a finger under her chin and tilt her head up him. He wanted to brush his lips over hers so gently that the hair on the back of her neck stands up. He wanted her to whimper from the back of her throat and pull him in properly to assure him he wants this, wants them. He wanted to treat her like a lady.

But he drunkenly smashed his face into hers and breathed his gross bourbon breath all over her and he doesn’t fucking blame her for bolting and making Geoff babysit him instead. Because he fucking ruined it.

He hasn’t been able to stop wondering, though, about her reaction. The evening is blurry, for the most part, but that kiss is crystal fucking clear in his mind. He remembers her understandable shock and moments of adjustment. And then he remembers her lips go soft against his, her body wilt into him, her hand find purchase in his hair like she was enjoying it. And then she pulled away.

So, what the fuck?

He wishes he could have time to sit and think this through but Andrew has him running around all day and he’s a stressed wreck because he’s working on some favor for a friend and has a million calls to make. He knows he should find a way to apologize before they leave Chicago and the whole thing feels too far away for him to fix. He feels weird about the way he reacted when he saw her in the hallway but it was a knee-jerk. His inner middle schooler came out and hid from the pretty girl he embarrassed himself in front of.

The next two shows pass in a blur. He doesn’t seek her out. He loses his nerve. How can he face her after the shit he pulled? And she seems to find ways to be busier, ways to avoid crossing his path, a path she knows almost as well as he does by now. By phone, it’s radio silence. Shawn is certainly twitchy – they used to text almost constantly. He actually experiences phantom phone buzzing. It’s pathetic.

LA feels like a nail in the coffin of it all, somehow. Maybe because she’s got home court advantage now.

They leave from Denver straight after the show to continue heading west. Shawn bets the only thing Emma is thinking about is getting home to Georgie. He’s mostly right.

They have a couple days off on either side of the Staples Center show. Shawn’s days are packed with meetings. Emma is shooting her “Fireheart” video. He’s lost his shot.

On the morning of the shoot, Emma feels sick. It’s a nausea she knows as well as anyone with a chronic ailment. Her anxiety is getting to her. She opens a text to Shawn and stares at her unmoving fingers for a full five minutes before her mom is banging on the door to the master bedroom of the house Emma bought deep in the Hollywood Hills to get the fuck away from her.

She gets a temporary break from the glam chair after Pilaticardio, avocado toast and a shower. She’s getting her make-up done at the shoot so she can lean back in the seat of the car service Range Rover on the way without getting snapped at by Sandra or Margaret about ruining her hair.

She falls asleep accidentally and is woken up outside a warehouse somewhere that looks remarkably like Silver Lake. Emma frowns. This is wrong. She’s supposed to be shooting in some meadow outside Calabasas. Where the fuck are they?

“Margaret,” Emma chirps sharply.

Margaret looks up, clearly bored, fingers snapping at her phone’s keyboard.

“What are we doing here? This isn’t the location I approved.”

Margaret looks agitated. She doesn’t like it when Emma pretends to be in control of anything.

“That was the old video treatment. We fired Mariah. We told you this,” she explains patronizingly, blinking slowly like she thinks that will somehow erase Emma’s short-term memory.

“No you didn’t,” Emma breathes, feeling her cheeks go hot and her heart quicken pace. She shakes her head uselessly.

“We did, Emma. Jesus,” Sandra swears from the front seat, flinging open the car door to definitively end the discussion.

Emma’s hands shake. She uses both to get her door open. Even in flat-heeled Stan Smiths, she stumbles on the pavement. She swallows over and over, desperately trying to moisten her dry mouth.

She’s had to work through anxiety attacks before. Her first one was when she was 8 and entered into the Little Miss Los Angeles County pageant and her mother told her she bought her a new costume last minute and she wasn’t allowed to eat breakfast because the new outfit showed her belly and Sandra didn’t want her to look bloated. Looking back, she wishes she didn’t swallow down her feelings to win that pageant. Maybe if she had shown then that she can’t do this, can’t be Emma and Emma Kingston at once without a dangerous rift that threatens to split her clean in two, she can’t operate under this pressure, she wouldn’t have to do it now. She curses her 8-year-old self for creating the Emma Kingston character to survive that fucking pageant. And all she had to show for it was a bouquet of three-day-old daisies and a polyester sash.

Emma wonders if she can negotiate around it now – if she can breathe through this one without shutting down entirely. She’s considering her options, and also feeling her fingers twitch toward her phone to call Shawn, when she enters the warehouse.

It looks like what you’d expect an empty warehouse to look like, only with the disturbing additions of dozens of lights on C-stands and stressed-out PAs scrambling like they’ve been personally threatened if they don’t get someone a cappuccino.

She’s whisked into hair and make-up. She breathes, despite the itching under her flesh. Her hair is teased out to an almost 80s-Madonna degree. Her eyes are painted black around the rims a la Taylor Momsen. She’s stuffed into a shredded leather minidress.

Truthfully, as she looks in the mirror, it’s not a look she hates. But it’s a far cry from the discussed ethereal, fairy-like, barefoot, virginal glow they felt appropriate for her target demo.

Sandra steps into the make-up room and cups a hand behind Emma’s head, kissing her cheek. “You look so pretty, baby.”

“Mom, what—I don’t understand. What am I even doing? What is this? Who is even directing?” Emma pants.

Sandra’s lips purse. She doesn’t like when Emma asks questions. “You’re doing your job. You’re making a music video. You’re doing what you’ve dreamed of since you were a little girl. And honestly, Emma, I don’t appreciate being spoken to like this. All I’ve ever done was give up my life to help guide you in your career. And then you go and pull some shit like the other night, ditching Kyle at the club to do god knows what. That partnership was set up for a reason.

“If you are ever going to be anything but a former teen queen Disney princess, you’ve got to grow the fuck up. Now put your fucking lipstick on.”

Sandra sneers and slams the door. Emma breathes. She inhales, chokes as she holds on, breathes out. She looks up. Her lips are turned down at the corners. Her eyes are dark. Her freckles are buried under airbrushed foundation. Her beloved nose stud is tucked away in a pocket of her purse.

She can’t hold on. She feels the seams of her person ripping, almost cosmically. She has to let go of one or the other. She can’t breathe, but she knows what she needs.

Her frantic fingers fumble for her phone. She is trying to get Face ID to work as she shivers. The door opens. Margaret stares at her, stone-faced.

“Time to go.”

“Wait, please, I just need to make a quick phone call,” Emma begs, feeling Em begin to slip through her fingers.

“No, call later. We’re behind schedule. Now, Emma,” Margaret demands in that eerily quiet voice.

Emma blinks. She places her phone face down on the counter. She looks back at Margaret.

And Em is gone.

+

The bodies twist around her. She smells acrid sweat and body odor and sharp pulls of unpleasant, musky cologne. She breathes through her mouth. The director, Max, praises her. The panting is sexy, apparently.

Her shoulder pops uncomfortably when one of the bigger men yanks her arm to drag her in. She grins in that dead way she can only manage when she’s so gone like this, when her body is moving but there’s no one inside. Her hips gyrate against his. The actor/dancer is hard in his jeans. He’s looking at her like she should feel flattered. She feels nothing.

For hours, this goes on. Her only respite comes in the moments she gets to close her eyes against the strobes and the harsh neon lights. If she can’t see, she can’t panic. At least that’s what she tells herself.

It’s actually worse between takes, when the lights and music stop and producers are barking orders at the DP and grips and gaffers until things are reset. She’s a twig in a sea of testosterone-filled logs all bumping up against her, pretending they’re not peeking into the holes in her dress for a looksie. She tries to close her eyes again then because she can feel Em deep, screaming, begging her to run, to go to Georgie, to Shawn, to the beach, anywhere. Anywhere but here where Em simply can never belong.

The lights go back on. Her eyes open, lightless, lifeless. She lays a hand over the arm that’s wrapped over her stomach, trapping her lungs against her ribcage to restrict her airway. She covers a cough with a gasp. Her shuddering breaths are mistaken for aroused rather than tortured. She stares at the lips of the man about to ravish her because she can’t bear to look in his eyes.

Em gets louder throughout the day. She screams, she wails, she bangs against the walls of Emma’s sanity until she’s holding on by a thread. There’s nothing I can do, she wants to shriek, I’m as trapped as you are.

But, she realizes with three pairs of lips roaming her neck and shoulders as she nibbles her lower lip as instructed, there’s no way to get through this if things continue the way they are. She’ll start crying like she did at the Miss Palm Tree Pageant when she was 12 and again in the car the hour before her Fake It audition. She won’t be able to stop until her mom gives her a sedative and she’ll go full Marilyn and pass out in her dressing room and then she’ll have to come back again another day to finish. She can’t bear it.

There’s only one thing she can try to subdue Em. It’s disgusting, even by Emma’s standards. It’s undignified, it’s juvenile, it’s terrifying. It’s totally inexcusable when she’s sober. It’s her only fucking option.

The music starts again. The man is tall and cut and looks like a younger Colton Haynes but with sandy blonde curls. He’s rolling against her body from behind, strapping his arm across her sternum to pin her against him. She’s meant to stroke her hands up his arms and neck to grab at his hair while he explores the tears of her dress with his fingers.

With one last aching breath, Emma placates Em the only way she knows how – she gives her Shawn.

With the right concentration, her co-star can be a few inches taller, just a little broader, curls chocolatey brown and soft instead of blonde and frizzy. His breath can leave goosebumps on her naked flesh. His fingers can set her fucking nerves alight. His hips against her back can get her wet in her tiny thong.

The dynamic on camera changes visibly. Emma’s hips reach back desperately for not!Shawn’s, her hands fist into his hair, her breath really does sound more authentically fucked for the man behind her when she lets her vivid fantasy take flight and surround her. The director is delighted when Emma goes off script, licking at her lips and dragging not!Shawn’s hand, which is not as big and warm as real!Shawn’s, off camera down the front of her dress. She’s selling it to the cheap seats and everyone is buying.

The shoot wraps after midnight. Emma peels not!Shawn’s sweaty limbs off and looks him in the eye as he speaks but doesn’t hear a word he says. She shakes the director’s hand, lets herself be shepherded off set and poked and prodded at until she’s stark naked and having glitter dust and peach-toned make-up wiped off by three women she’s never seen before.

She’s placed in the car and dropped off outside her dark, sprawling home. She stands in the driveway for ten minutes before she can manage to move. She knows how many pictures of Georgie are scattered across every surface of her house. She doesn’t think she can look at them. She can’t think about Georgie now because she can’t think about what Georgie will think, say, feel, when this video is out. She’ll be sick on her shoes.

Emma keeps her head down as she makes her way inside. She pours herself a highball glass of vodka rocks. She strips naked again and puts on a big t-shirt and fresh panties. She crawls into bed with booze in one hand, pills in the other.

In one swift, oft-practiced motion, she downs the two sleeping pills left with her by Ashley. She chases them with the stinging singing of Belvedere.

She mumbles to Alexa to play Shawn Mendes. She closes her eyes. She lies down.

+

Shawn rolls over, cracking an eye at the hotel alarm clock. It’s 2:20am. A few months ago, he’d ignore his phone buzzing at this hour. A few months ago, he might not even have heard it. But now, he lives on a new plane of existence, of heightened awareness.

He knows before he even looks at the screen.

“Em?”

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @smallerinfinities @crapri @stillinskislydia @carlaimberlain @abigfatmess @rosecolouredtimes @heavenly—holland @wanderingmendes @blush-and-books @oyesmendes @embracehappy

[dictionarywrites]

Pregnancy scare for Frostmaster?

2k. Complete. Tagged for dub con and abusive relationships like whoa. I’d tag Sakaar Trash Party but this fic feels too quietly contemplative for that? It’s more the subtle after-effects rather than a full-on trauma fic. 

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There is burst of light within him, a flickering of some foreign flame: Loki feels the familiar sensation of something having caught inside him, feels the shift of blood vessels and nerves, feels his body - subtly, oh-so-subtly, but easily detectable to any shapeshifter worth his salt - alter.

Life.

New life.

He puts his hand to the hard, secondary rib cage that protects his belly, tilting his head, and he feels another heart beat - faster than his own, much faster. It coils swift and sharp, and he hisses in pain as he feels it burn like a shattering star, feels the incandescent heat of a thousand suns rip through his veins, and surely, surely he will die--

Loki wakes in a cold sweat, breathing heavily.

Glancing around, he sees that he has fallen asleep in the lab upon the Ark... He is laid on the couch to the side of the room now, but he had fallen asleep at the desk itself, pouring over books...

“Brunnhilde moved you,” Banner says quietly from where he is looking over a set of streets, and Loki nods dumbly. Shifting his hand under his tunic, he feels the hard, cold plane of his body. Blood vessels are arranged as usual; his womb is quite empty; Loki is not pregnant. He hasn’t been pregnant in over two thousand years.

(”You know, I could, ah, I could make you. If I wanted.”

"Please don’t.”

“Mmm, your little, ha, your little contraceptive spells, they’re... They’re cute. But, honey, your magic is no match for mine.”

“Please don’t.”

“Aw. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t... Who knows?”)

Shakily, he exhales, and he runs his hand through his hair, drawing it back from his uncomfortably warm forehead. “You okay?” Banner asks, looking at him with uncertainty shining in his eyes. “You look, uh... Kinda chalky.”

“Jotnar don’t sweat,” Loki says softly. “What you’re seeing is the muscle layer beneath my skin becoming more tensed, closing the doors... It makes my face, my features, seem unnaturally dry, and inflexible.”

“Oh,” Banner says. He understands what Loki has said - he understands differences of biology. Slowly, shakily, Loki stands. “You okay?” he repeats softly. “Have a nightmare?”

“Yes,” Loki says shortly.

“You wanna talk about it?” No, is Loki’s reflexive response, but he hesitates, looking at Banner for a long few moments. Banner’s expression is open, earnest. He looks at Loki as if he trusts Loki not to turn upon him, as if he thinks Loki might be more than crazy as a box of cats. The sensation settles comfortably cool in his chest, and he feels himself relax by the most infinitesimal amount. “It must have been hard, leaving, uh... You had a good time on Sakaar.”

Had he? He supposes so. Sakaar was better than Asgard, easily. Better than Midgard. Better than many places. No prejudice on Sakaar. No fear of Loki - only of the Grandmaster. Loki had never been hungry, had never been without somewhere to sleep... He thinks of sleeping in the Grandmaster’s bed, feeling the heat of his ancient hands on Loki’s body, thinking of the way he had craved it...

Shame coils in Loki’s belly where no seed grows. Here Loki is, barren and alone, and safe.

(”You, uh, want me to?”

“No.”

“How come, sweetie?” Silence. “Aw, you’re... What, you’re afraid I’d hurt a baby? Our baby?” More silence. “I wouldn’t force you. I wouldn’t force you to do, mmm, anything."  That's such a ridiculous lie that Loki laughs at it, and gains a burst of agony for his troubles. "When you come to me... Then we’ll, uh, then we’ll have a talk.)

“You know,” Banner says quietly. “Being the, uh, being the big guy for my time on Sakaar... That was weird, you know. We’re separate, me and him, but it protected me, I guess. To be those two different people. Maybe you did something similar?”

“Do you know how many names I have?” Loki asks softly.

“Uh, Loki, Son of--” Banner cuts himself off. “Two?”

“Thousands.” Loki adjusts the way his robes - so different to the leathers he had worn on Sakaar, so different to anything he has ever worn in Thor’s presence - settle on his shoulders. “I have myriad selves... And they are all me. Loki. I am the focal lens, if you will. My person on Sakaar was neither separate nor distinct from aught that I had been before. We are not the same, you and I. You share your body with a monster: I share nothing, for I am the monster.”

“You aren’t a monster,” Banner says. It is reflexive: it is the best comfort he knows how to give. Loki smiles when he sees the hesitation come into his eyes after he throws the sentence out. But then Banner says, “You scared he’ll come after you?” and Loki’s smile fades.

“The Grandmaster is a figure of the present, not the past. He would no more chase me than he might a relic of a thousand yesterdays. I’m nothing important.”

(Loki’s resolve is weakening. He watches the Grandmaster one night, playing idly with an instrument not unlike a lyre, and he asks, “Would you promise me? Never to hurt it?”

“Hurt what?” the Grandmaster asks, innocently.

“Our child.”

“Our. I, uh, like the sound of that.”

“I wouldn’t take anything less than a vow bound to your magic,” Loki says.

“What? You, ha, you saying you wouldn’t take me at my word?”

“No, Grandmaster. Never.” A wry smile comes to the surface at that - a wry smile, and eyes glittering with the light of the universe.

“Clever boy.”)

“What about the future?” Banner asks. “What if he came for you in the future?” Loki shrugs.

“That’s the future,” Loki says. “This is the now.”

“The now,” Banner agrees. “With nightmares.”

“I have nightmares anyway,” Loki says simply. Banner lets out a short sound, as if he’s frustrated, and he sets his hands down on the counter, looking at Loki very seriously, his expression grave. “You wonder why I stayed with him for so long, if I do not fear him.”

“Yes.”

“There are things worse than fear. Things worse than pain.”

“Like what?”

“Grief.” A long pause stretches out between them.

(”I’d like a daughter,” the Grandmaster whispers in Loki’s ear. “Wouldn’t you like that? Another daughter?”

“Not yet,” Loki says softly. “Not yet.”

“Okay,” the Grandmaster murmurs. Relief blooms in Loki’s chest, and for once - for once - he believes the Grandmaster’s promise. He won’t force it, won’t trip Loki into this situation. He is waiting patiently for Loki to come to it on his own, and it makes Loki’s heart swell in his chest.

That afternoon, Thor arrives.

Everything is dashed to pieces.)

“What’d he give you?” Banner asks. “Brunnhilde, he gave her so much drink and money she could just coast and never think about anything. The Hulk, he gave him fights, and glory, and his own damned rooms. What did he give you?”

“Attention,” Loki answers. Banner’s laugh is dry, and disbelieving.

“Really? That it?”

“He gave me hope,” Loki says. It is closer to the truth, and it makes Banner’s face fall. Loki sees a mix of emotions at once - fear, at the forefront, and disgust, and there, at the back of Banner’s eyes... Pity.

“You must have asked for stuff. You must have wanted something from him.”

(”All you have to do is ask, honey. I’ll, uh, I’ll give you the universe on a platter, if you want it.”

“And at what price? What would you ask of me in return?”

“Aw, I woulda... I woulda thought you’d, mmm, grasped that one, baby. I want you.”

“You hurt me.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re cruel.”

“Cruel? Me? No, honey, I... I do what’s best. And you gotta, ha, you gotta trust that. Loki, you give yourself over, and you’ll never, ha, you’ll never want for anything ever again. Me, you, and baby makes three.”

“And what of freedom, Grandmaster? What of that?”

“What does freedom mean to a guy like you, Lo-Lo? Name a time you’ve, ha, been free.”

Silence.)

“I wanted a great deal from him,” Loki agrees. “Nothing I was foolish enough to ask for. I am not like the Hulk, Banner. I have no need of an arena to posture in, or opponents to fight. I have no need of alcohol to soothe me, nor coin to fill my coffers.”

“Not even a throne?” Banner asks. “He wouldn’t have given you one, if you’d asked?”

“There was one thing I wanted,” Loki whispers. “One thing I would have asked for. One thing he would have given me.”

“What was it?”

(Divination is no easy process. It requires one to look at the webs spun by the universe itself, and to play upon those evolving threads, to see what greater picture might be revealed.

Loki sits alone on an island in Sakaar’s great sea, and he draws the threads over one another. He sees her. Va Nee Gast, bright-eyed and blue-skinned, laughing amidst a party, clinging to the Grandmaster’s side.

“Aw, kitty,” the Grandmaster scolds, and the vision slowly fades from Loki’s sight. “No peeking. You’ll ruin the surprise. You ready to ask?”

“Not yet, Grandmaster. Not yet.”)

“Something that would have been taken from me, in the end.”

“By him?”

“No,” Loki says. “By anyone else in the universe.”

“You talk about him like he’s... Like you trust him.”

“Perhaps I would have trusted him. With some things.”

“How can you say that? Guy was a mad man.”

“Perhaps I belong at the hands of mad men.”

“You’re crazy,” Banner says. Ah. Yes. He supposes he is.

“I’m going to my quarters, now,” Loki murmurs, and he turns neatly on his heel to go.

(”You oughtn’t keep asking me,” Loki says. “I might say yes, and then where will you be?”

“Right here, baby. Right here with you.”

“You oughtn’t,” Loki repeats. “For your own sake.”

“Well, for my sake, sunshine, why don’t you give Daddy a kiss?”)

There is a shift inside him, and Loki inhales a sudden gasp, stopping in the middle of the corridor on the Ark. The thought passes as soon as it had come, and Loki is hit by the overwhelming urge to cry.

“Lackey,” Brunnhilde says, catching him by the shoulder. “You okay?” He knows better than to even attempt to explain, this time.

“Yes,” Loki lies. “Merely an upset stomach.” Brunnhilde hesitates for a second, looking him up and down, then seems to take the lie. Nodding, she pats his shoulder, and Loki makes his way back to his quarters. He doesn’t slip into bed - instead, he pours himself a bath that is too hot, that is painfully hot and scalds his skin.

Inside his belly, he feels the phantom twitch of a thread unspooled, and this time, the tears roll hot down his cheeks.

(”Aw, Lo-Lo,” the Grandmaster murmurs in his ear, his voice full of sympathy. Loki is in desperate pain, stretched too wide over a frame of dark wood, and yet if he can just hold his place, if he can just take it for long enough, then he will be rewarded. And isn’t that he wants? Isn’t it what he craves, what he needs? “You see, you keep... Nobody would take our daughter away. You, uh, you understand that? No one could even try.”

“But I couldn’t leave either,” Loki whispers. “You torture me, I cry, that’s... That’s par for the course, my dear Grandmaster. But with another between us? How could I ever leave? How could I ever deprive our child, by abandoning one parent?”

“Who says you gotta?”

“Common sense. Morality. Parental instinct.”

“Ignore it all.”

“Easy for you to say. You have one of the three.” The Grandmaster leans back on his heels, a smirk coming to his lips. He doesn’t even seem annoyed at Loki’s plain, frank speech.

“Which one?”)

He feels a phantom touch upon his shoulder, and he turns. There is no phantom here: he sees golden fingers, decorated with a bright ring, spread loosely over the cool skin.

“What say I, uh, put a bun in this oven, huh?” the Grandmaster’s voice purrs in his ear.

Then he is gone, and Loki is alone - always alone.

Sinking further into the waters, he feels the bath bite hot against his flesh, and he closes his eyes, tightly. His belly is a knot of snakes, twisting anxiously, and he imagines at every turn, imagines, imagines--

It is foolish to imagine. It is more foolish still to sentimentalise over one’s imaginations.

Loki is a fool. He always has been.

(”I love you, honey.”

“I don’t love you back.”

“You could.”

“Could I?”

“Uh huh.”

“That would be foolish of me.”

“Aw, Lo-Lo. Love makes fools of us all - even Elders! Even me!”

“Even you.”

“Even me.” Loki could ask. He could ask right now, could ask for the Grandmaster to spend deep inside him, could feel that spend catch, could feel a flower bud within him, ready to bloom... Loki thinks of Thor in his prison cell, thinks of him.

Too late, now. Too late.)

“Didn’t the Grandmaster ever offer you anything?” Thor asks, weeks later.

“No,” Loki lies. “Never.”

[spybluscars]

Vampire Verse

A short walk in a long night.

It wasn’t any regular night Logan was changed. It was specifically and methodically planned out to mentally mind fuck Logan. To break him down and recreate a monster. Logan had just proposed to his best friend, lover, first real boyfriend. The night had been one to remember, a perfect moment to propose. Everything a couple could dream of. Dancing drinking, reminiscing. Running into an old ex at the same place he planned to propose should of been a warning. Logan proposed though. At the end of the night he got down on that one knee and asked. Of course it was a yes. What a happy story right.

The next day the two celebrated by staying at home enjoying one another company and nursing the hangovers. Logan had to leave the apartment for a moment to get a new carton of cigarettes and by carton he means the expensive box that comes with 15 cartons of cigarettes. He buys in bulk.

So Logan hit the liquor store in the pouring rain. Bag in hand he opened up the carton and pulled out a pack. Peeling it open and pulled out a cigarette lighting it up and stood outside the shop under the awning for a moment enjoying the rain now as well as his nicotine. Shoving the pack into his breast pocket of the pi-coat.

A few pedestrians willing to brave the rain walked by on the sidewalk.  He watched them casually for a time, opting to finish the first cigarette before venturing home.  He glanced at his watch - he had about 30 minutes before the detective was going to show. After the final drag he tucked the carton under his arm, opened the umbrella and worked his way back down the street.  

The weather had worsened while he was out, and darkened the city scape substantially.  He could just barely make out Tim’s apartment building ahead of him when a hand closed around his wrist.  He’d gone to throw an elbow, the umbrella tumbling to the curb, but was startled by the amount of strength behind the offending hand.  He spun on the figure, simultaneously being dragged in to a dark alley.  The damp darkness of the alley made it difficult to make out any discernible features of his assailant, but the hand released him and he was left there under a torrent of rain falling from the gaps between the two buildings.  

He was panting, more startled by the assault than winded. “Show yourself,” he snarled, facing in to the alley.  Nothing seemed to move, and he could hardly hear over the weather around him.  Then two opalescent orbs appeared a few feet away - eyes.  He frowned, feeling that similar crawling fear from the garage.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your recent engagement,” Adriens crooned.  He stepped forward, a dimly lit silhouette before Logan.  “It was truly touching”

Logan’s eyes widened at the mention.

“How-”  Adrien’s appearance at the bar last night “Fuck you,” he replied venomously.  “Touch me again and you’ll lose your hand.”

“Logan, you’re in no position to make threats,” Adrien continued.  The reflective eyes drew closer, revealing his pallid face.

There was a strange sound over the thrum of the rain.  A rush of wind perhaps?  A strange change in pression.  As quickly as Logan could blink the eyes were gone, and then just as quickly, Adrien was behind him.  His dark figure blocked the exit to the street.  Logan flinched, reflexively moving back and out of arms reach.  While his resolve remained unshaken, the expression on his face gave away his surprise.

“You’ve always been so stern.  So confident,” Adrien said, almost ardently.  He approached slowly, cautiously even.  “I’ve admired that about you since I met you.  And I knew immediately that you were made for this…” and he pressed his hands to his own chest. “For this gift.  You’re dangerous.  I’ve always known it.  And now, I can make you better.”  He was approaching faster now, and Logan retreated a single step.

“You’re insane.”

“I loved you once, back then.  I think you might have loved me too.  That’s why you ran.”  Adrien's voice lowered, his expression vanishing in the darkness again.  The eyes continued to glow almost ethereally.  “Unfortunately for you I am a jealous lover, and I will not take second.  Especially now.  I don’t have to.  I’m superior to that boy,” he spat.  “And I can make you superior, too.”

Logan, while holding his ground, reached in to the back pocket of his pants.  The comforting sensation of the butterfly knife in his pocket pressed against his palm.  Adrien was small in stature, and Logan was confident he could overpower him.  His concern now was the insane ramblings.  If he was hopped up on PCP it might be more difficult to fend him off… And the speed?  It must have been the stress from the day.  There was no way a man could move that quickly.  He’d simply misinterpreted the movement…

“I am warning you,” Logan rumbled.  “If you come near me again, I’ll leave you here to bleed to death.”

Adrien laughed, and it echoed in the alley despite the rain.  It seemed to bounce all around Logan - wavering in and out as if it were carried in the wind.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said plainly. “You we’re always so capable-“

Then that noise again.  Adrien had vanished, only to reappear a moment later only feet from Logan.  Adrien lunged at the man, still barely visible in the darkness.

Logan kept on his toes with Adrien so close. The man had changed %100 who he knew then and what he was now was a complete flip. Suddenly he vanished. Logan whirled around quickly and saw Adrien. With only a second to react Logan took a step back using his free hand to stop Adrien. His other came up and he spun the butterfly knife free. The blade spinning open and found its mark. Logan sliced up along Adriens cheek. Logan used the time to shove Adrien back.

Who grabbed at his pretty cheek now cut from the blade. His fingers covered in a little trickle of blood. Adrien hissed putting his fingers to his mouth. Licking the blood away. “ You were always into Knife play…. Nows hardly the time….” Adrien hissed.

Logan looked to his cheek. Which quickly healed up right infront of him. Logans eyes narrowed. He strained to see. He questioned what he had just seen. Was that really what he just saw. Did Adriens cheek just close up. Like something out of some supernatural movie.

Logan took a quick step back. The danger felt very real now. The mans eyes still glowed like a wolfs.

Logan swallowed roughly keeping his blade in hand though.

Again Adrien vanished from sight completely. Logan spun around. Suddenly feeling a tug at the collar of his pi-coat. Logan pulled forward. Sliding his arms out of the coat. Whirling around Logan launched the butterfly at Adriens chest. Now standing there in his white t-shirt which was now soaked. Logans dark hair falling over his eyes as he glared at him. “ What the fuck have you become Adrien….” Logan said harshly through gritted teeth.

Adrien stood before him now, peering down at the blade lodged securely in his sternum.

“That was close…” he panted, reaching up to wrench the thing free. “A few inches to the left and you might have had me.”  Like before, the wound seemed to have no effect.

“I’ve already told you.  I’m superior.  I’m stronger now.  And I can make you that way, too.  Your wasting yourself here, playing house like you’re some sort of family man.”

He lurched, rocketing the knife back at Logan.  And Logan, being trained as he had, recognized the motion seconds before the blade came hurling at him and was able to jerk out of it’s path.  He caught on only seconds later that it was only a diversion.  In the next instant Adrien was upon him again - the smaller man buried a shoulder deep in Logan’s belly, and sent them crashing to the cement.  Logan’s head bounced on the ground, unable to break his fall due to the sheer force of Adrien’s body on top of him.  It send spots of light dancing in his eyes, and he gasped.

“Shhhhh,” Adrien’s voice came through the pounding of blood in his head.  It was coming from everywhere, all at once.  “I can fix you.”  He could feel the man on top of him, perched so that his knees pressed down on Logan’s arms.  He felt breath against his lips. “I’m going to make you better than you’ve ever been.  And in the end, you’ll thank me for it.”

Logan thrashed beneath him, his head throbbing agonizingly in protest.  He had another knife tucked in to his boot.  He just needed to reach it.  He strained, struggling to raise his leg and grab at the blade hidden there.  But then, Adrien closed a pale hand around his neck and suddenly any air stopped.  He grimaced, choking on the pressure around his windpipe.

“Hold still baby - it only hurts in the beginning.”

Logan choked. Gagging. The air in his lungs completely gone. Logan had been reaching for his knife. Now he couldn't even get his damn arms up to get him off. The man felt like a brickhouse on top of him. Logan couldn't budge an inch. It was unreal how heavy he felt. Logan closed his eyes tight. Thinking of his fiancae. Thinking of last night. Thinking of the wedding they would never have. Logan could feel the tears swell up instantly and slide down his cheek. He pushed with his hips as best he could. Nothing he couldn't move him. Logan choked out loudly. Feeling his arms grow tired. His chest as tight as it could go. His lungs straining for air. It felt like his chest was going to cave in on itself. Logan opened his eyes once more looking up at Adrien. No he wouldn’t give him that satisfaction of looking at him while dying in his hands. Logan quickly looked away. To the street. To the rain pouring down on the road. The tiny little droplets that hit the ground.

He wanted to walk with his fiancae, he wanted to walk with him once more in the rain….. The vision of the street began to swim. His vision going black. Everything began to feel exceptionally cold.

There was coldness.  The muffled sound of rain.  And then suddenly, there was heat.  Blistering, violent heat followed by a horrendous pain.  His breath returned to him enough to cry out bitterly as Adrien sunk what felt like razors in to the hollow of his shoulder.  Senses in overload he could hardly make out what was happening - was… was he biting him?

He tried to throw Adrien off - anything.  A cool hand pressed over his mouth, preventing any further sound.  He screamed against it instead, feeling the shredding and rending tear of flesh.  Adrien thrashed against his throat - Logan tasted blood in his mouth, thick and bitter.  He coughed, felt it roil against the back of his teeth.  His vision began to narrow, eyes darkening in a ring - slowly closing off.  Any strength he had to fight or to scream was gone.  He thought he could hear growling now, but the sounds were starting to fade out.

And then it stopped.  The thrashing, the growling…. Everthing just, stopped.  He turned his heavy head slowly and gazed up at the dark sky.  Adrien was there above him.  His pale face was awash with blood.  He stared down at Logan with a look of satisfaction.  And… was it longing?  Logan watched with hazy confusion as his attacker bit down on his own wrist.  Logan thought he could even hear the flesh tear - now becoming a sickeningly familiar sound.  And then, Adrien was lowering his wrist - Logan could see blood rushing from wound in thick currents.  Lowering it.  Closer and closer, and suddenly he could see that it was just above him.  Just above his mouth.  He tasted iron.  He tried to turn away, close his mouth.  Anything.  But god he was so weak.  Adrien’s hand closed on his jaw, and drew him back.  Squeezed, forcing open the mans mouth.

“This will make you better…” Adrien’s voice echoed in his head.

Logans life had completely uprooted and changed in a blink of an eye. Logan tried to return to his finance. That resulted in him almost killing him. The only thing that saved Timmy was Logan being shot and tumbling out of the window of his apartment.

Logan did what he new best next. Run. He ran, and he ran far. First back to Germany, then surprisingly Vegas. What could he do, he could face his Fiance after that, he couldn’t explain to him that he could kill him if he got to hungry, that he would live forever. It wasn’t something Logan wanted to burden him with.

[ayearofpike]

The Last Vampire 3: Red Dice

Pocket Books, 1995 193 pages, 17 chapters + epilogue ISBN 0-671-87268-0 LOC: PZ7.P626 Las 1995 OCLC: 32331239 Released March 31, 1995 (per B&N)

Sita has just ended the reign of terror of a horrible sociopathic self-made vampire, but his killing spree did not escape the notice of the military. It seems they already know who and what she is, as well as her unwilling accomplice turned against his will to save his life. When he’s captured, she resolves to save him before the military can do horrible things with his blood. This mission is all the more urgent when she realizes that the scientist leading the research efforts is an old friend. Like, a REALLY old friend.

It was about here when I realized that Pike didn’t actually have a single plotted story for Sita, that he was just writing her adventures as they came to him. I might be misremembering this, but I feel like we’d been led to understand that The Last Vampire was going to be a trilogy, like Remember Me and his favorite title-drop Lord of the Rings. (I have not been keeping track of LotR references, but there’s one in almost every book. Reread @mildhorror‘s recaps if you don’t believe me.) Getting hit with another “to be continued” was sort of a gut punch.

But beyond that, the way it puts an old character in a new situation made me aware that this was becoming a serial rather than one story. This book doesn’t really do anything new to tie up loose ends. That door was mostly closed in the previous one, when she dispatched the original vampire. But as soon as she turned a dude, it created new loose ends that Sita now has to shear off before the story closes up. It’s a perfectly fine self-contained story, if a lot more actiony and cartoon-violent than most of Pike’s work, but it’s not exactly clear how it belongs to the previous storyline (or whether it even does).

Let’s see if I can find or assume some context for how this book ended up getting constructed.

In 1995, the public at large had just been exposed to Quentin Tarantino’s stylized violence, with Pulp Fiction coming off a controversial Oscar loss and becoming a sleeper hit. Seeing how this was received by the teens who were ostensibly Pike’s audience, it makes sense that he would have wanted to incorporate some gory battle scenes. Especially as Interview With the Vampire had also just come out — I have no doubt Pike wanted to differentiate his cool-young-adult vampire from Tom Cruise’s brooding Gothic.

Spooksville would start in October of this year. I’ve mentioned this series before, but its importance to Sita’s story is that it tells semi-related juvenile horror tales linked to a handful of main characters living in a town where this kind of stuff happens. That is to say: the main kids are the only real common link between the events. I expect that he’d already started writing the series at this point, and that the structure affected how he told The Last Vampire stories (and probably in turn his love for Sita helped him define the structure of Spooksville; after all, Goosebumps didn’t have the same protagonist in every book.)

In any case, it’s both drastically different from the suspense thrillers and mysteries that Pike’s mostly written to date, and game-changing in terms of what we would now expect about Sita stories. I think I already made this analogy: The Last Vampire is Pike’s Final Fantasy, an inspired tale about the end of an era that would seize unexpected popularity and spawn sequels unto eternity.

So let’s try to blaze through the recap, because there’s not a whole bunch of plot. Sita wakes up the day after her battle with New Vampire with a tube still stretching between her and FBI Dude. She realizes she’s been out for nearly 24 hours because it was midnight when the fight started and now it’s still dark but her watch says it’s just before twelve. But also she hears police cars, and knows that they need to escape before they’re asked a lot of questions. (I have one: if they knew what she was, which they probably did, why wouldn’t they come at NOON?) Sita prefers to keep a low profile, because she knows that if someone suspects her supernatural abilities, she’s going to get tested and dissected and someone is going to try to make more (like the coroner’s assistant already did). She doesn’t need to be responsible for that.

But since she’s dealing with a baby vampire who thinks he can use the government bureaucracy to his advantage, they don’t get out. Instead, they’re thrown into an armored van with five armed guards (three in back with them, two in the front) and a driver behind bulletproof glass. This within a caravan of armored vehicles and under surveillance from a helicopter. Of course Sita has escaped from worse situations. She’s handcuffed and shackled, but her eyes are free, and that’s what she uses to hypnotize the guards into pointing their weapons away long enough to break the ankle restraints and kick two of them dead. The third she kills just by telling him to die, which is when she realizes that Original Vampire’s blood is starting to give her new and stronger powers. Because FBI Dude is squeamish, she knocks out the other two guards and then learns from the driver that they’re not going to jail, but to a high-security government facility.

This is where the book turns into an action movie. Sita has the driver crank a turn into a narrow alley and then floor it. They makes it across two streets before smashing into a fruit truck, which gives her enough cover to jump out of the van and start shooting. This clears out a police car from ... unidentified somewhere for them to steal, and they lead the chase into the basement parking garage of a tall building, where they hop an elevator to the top floor. Then Sita breaks a window and jumps across the street to the roof of another building, and roof-hops along that side of the street to one with a helicopter pad on the roof. She steals one and comes back for FBI Dude, and they take off into the desert. So much for that low profile.

The police (or government agents, or whoever it is) pursue them but don’t try to catch up or engage. We learn why when, as they cross over southern Nevada, they’re set upon by two military combat helicopters. More questions: why not a fighter jet? Nellis is right there, and a jet is faster and more heavily armed than a chopper. But anyway, they cripple Sita’s chopper, forcing FBI Dude to bail into Lake Mead, and before she can crash it and escape herself they blow it up with a missile. When she wakes up she’s pinned underwater by the helicopter’s wreckage, but her unconscious mind has had the presence to not let her drown. She surfaces in the middle of the lake to see what’s up, and sure enough they’ve caught FBI Dude again and are throwing him in another armored van. Frickin’ baby vampires can’t do anything.

She steals a truck from a nearby campsite and follows the new military caravan out to some secure facility in the middle of the desert. She watches FBI Dude get trucked out and displayed to a uniformed general, and it’s confirmed that yes, the military knows what they are and yes, they were trying to take them alive. FBI Dude gets shunted into one of the buildings, and Sita takes special note of the scientist that the general talks to afterward. Just one scientist, yes. He leaves shortly afterward, and she goes to follow him, but realizes something weird as she gets in her truck to follow him.

She’s glowing.

That’s right, all y’all that were pissed about Edward Cullen! Pike did it first! Granted, this is in the moonlight and not the sun, but STILL.

She decides to worry about it later and follows the scientist to a casino, where he loses too much money and drinks too much, then to his house just before sunrise. If she’s going to use this dude to get close and figure out how to save her buddy, she needs to redo her identity again. So she gets her secretive business manager or whatever in New York to set her up with new ID, new credit cards, new hair, new clothes, the whole shebang. Yeah — from here until the end of the book we’re supposed to imagine her as a redhead, which is hard to do because we’ve already got two books of blonde Alisa Perne.

When the scientist goes to work, she follows him to see where he goes in, and then breaks into his house and sees a strange model. It looks like DNA, but it has twelve strands instead of two. She recognizes it immediately — it’s the same as a model made by an alchemist she knew seven hundred years ago in Italy during the Catholic Inquisition, a monk who she took as a lover, to whom she revealed the secrets of her life and her history when he watched her heal a kid’s broken spine. So if this guy has a similar model, they must have another vampire and have already been researching, which means Sita has more to save and/or destroy.

She goes back out to the military compound to try to plan an attack, and the glowing skin makes her curious, so she takes off all her clothes and watches her body light up and start to become transparent and feel lighter. She assumes this is another unexplainable power conveyed by Original Vampire’s blood, but to what end? She doesn’t have time to figure it out right now; there’s a scientist to seduce! They gamble for a while, then Sita buys him dinner and they go back to his house, where he tells her just enough about his research to make her feel both sorry for him and further set in her need to rescue FBI Dude ASAP.

While everyone’s asleep, Sita finishes the woeful tale of the alchemist. It seems that he drew some of her blood and used it to heal incurable illnesses in combination with crystals and moonlight. But then he went too far and tried to use it on someone healthy — the boy from before, in fact, with full midday sun streaming through. This ended up creating a monster ruled by fear, and Sita had to kill him, and the inquisitors took the alchemist and she never saw him again.

This wouldn’t be a Last Vampire book without two things: drinking blood and Seymour. She gets the first from a hapless high roller, first by beating him at the card table, then insulting him, then inviting him to what appears to be a desert gangbang, then scaring off his bodyguards and mercilessly drinking her fill. Seymour comes in because she’s not sure what’s coming next with the scientist and the military and the moon-glow, so she calls him to get some ideas and assistance. He says that the only way to be sure they don’t keep vampire blood is to blow up the entire base with the nuclear bombs they probably have on site, this being a secret military facility in Nevada and all.

So now she’s got a plan, and she needs to figure out how to carry it out. When the scientists opens up about his concerns about their test subject and what the scary general wants to do with his blood, Sita tells him everything. Like, literally everything: what her name is, that she’s a vampire, that she’s five thousand years old, that she was turned by the original vampire who she just killed this week, that she knew Krishna, the whole nine yards. In return, he tells her where they’re keeping FBI Dude and the other vampire they’ve had for a month. Her plan is to sneak into the compound in the scientist’s trunk, pose as a tech on loan from the Pentagon, and somehow break out the two vampires.

It all goes according to plan, except there’s only one vampire in the cell. At least until Sita opens the door and goes to rescue FBI Dude, at which point the door slams shut and the scientist talks to her in Italian. Yep! The other vampire he had was her, way back in the thirteenth century! He used her blood on himself, although imperfectly, so in the last seven centuries he’s aged about twenty years. And now he’s got her right where he wants her, so he can keep doing his experiments and improving humanity through vampirism.

The general doesn’t care about any of that shit — he just wants to be stronger than anyone else. This is his weakness, knowing Sita’s power and being afraid of it until he gets it for himself. So she manipulates the guards into panic (more powers she didn’t have before, being able to hypnotize someone without even seeing them) and then breaks all the lights in the cell and starts pounding on the door. So they amass a whole fighting force and open the door, but of course Sita has used her magical vampire powers to ... hide behind it. She has to kill a guard slowly and messily to keep up the fear paralysis, and then she mows most of the rest of them down with a machine gun. All the killing is starting to upset her, or so she says, maybe because of Squeamish FBI Dude, because it doesn’t stop her from planning to nuke the joint.

The general is already upstairs, trying to escape, so Sita JUMPS THROUGH THE CEILING and shoots him in the leg so he can’t go anywhere. Then she gets him to take her to the weapons stockpile and arm a nuclear bomb with a timer, supposedly long enough for everyone to get away from the blast. She has to fry his brain with her hypnosis to get him to do it, but now Science Alchemist is in command and he’s got orders from the president to not let her get away under any circumstances. (Like he might have otherwise, right?) The nuke’s ticking down, and they’re in a standoff, but she finally convinces him to let the rest of the troops get out and away, so now it’s just Sita and FBI Dude and Fried General and Science Alchemist, waiting for the bomb to go off.

And Sita starts glowing again.

This time, she lights up all the way, becoming light itself, and floats off the ground and away in the wind, saying her goodbyes to the old monk who has stolen her blood and the new friend who she turned against his will and the military leader who she has effectively lobotomized. By the time the nuke blows, she’s long gone. 

The next thing we see is Science Alchemist’s basement. No, Pike doesn’t explain how Sita reassembled her body or whatever after floating away as a being of light. No, he doesn’t spend any time on what it means or how she should use it. Yes, it would have been a perfect time to close with an epilogue about how she’s come back to Krishna and her life is complete, along the lines of the dreams she has throughout these books. But instead, she’s in a basement in Las Vegas, where there’s a complicated array of crystals and mirrors, and she’s going to turn human with Seymour’s help (and blood). So she falls asleep doing it, and when she wakes up, someone is pounding on the door insisting she let him in. And that’s it!

So, I have to say it, and you should imagine the clapping emoji between each of the words in the following sentence: THERE WAS NO PURPOSE BEHIND SITA TURNING FBI DUDE EXCEPT TO KEEP THE AUDIENCE HANGING. Seriously, his name should have been Plot Devicerson. He gave us a springboard into the third book, he gave Sita a reason to act throughout it, and now he’s fuckin’ dead. He’s not even a tie to her life before, any more than a divorce lawyer is a tie to a marriage. The whole book could have conceivably done without him, although it would have admittedly taken a little more thought to get her out to the military installation in the first place.

You know, I wish Pike would have called a spade a spade with this series. If it had been a stand-alone serial novel set called The Last Vampire, I would have been totally fine. The stories themselves and Sita as a character I don’t necessarily have a problem with. But they DO NOT FIT TOGETHER. And by now it’s too late to retcon this into another Baby-Sitters Club or Nancy Drew type of series, so he’s stuck attemping to link one unique narrative to another.

It’s gonna be another year before we see Sita again, so I have to deduce that Pike just couldn’t bring himself to kill her off even though he didn’t know exactly what she would be doing next. And it’s OK to keep that door open — if you just admit you’re doing a serial rather than a continuance. In retrospect, I think that’s what annoyed me so much about these books, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. I guess we have to wait and see if Pike can save this series as a continued story, sometime in the next ... six books GODDAMMIT.

[cattythoughts-blog]

Game of Thrones: The Alternate Ending

Intro of Dissatisfaction

           Okay, so I’ve never been much of a revisionist when it comes to story-telling. Whatever ending I got, I could have mixed feelings about with no sway one way or the other to impact my overall enjoyment of a story. When stories go completely off the rails from what they once were (first 3 seasons of Supernatural vs everything after, Penny Dreadful season 3, Hannibal) I can still enjoy the show and, in the end, hold whatever first few good seasons I did have close to my heart.

           And, I think the reason for this is that all all those shows had an “ending” before their true season ending. That ending paid off everything and was consistent with theme and tone first presented. Which brings up the question: What do you do when you have a story as big as Game of Thrones, a grand-scale epic by design? There can’t be a satisfying conclusion mid-way through the Game of Thrones show, where everything comes together because there’s too much going on. Too many loose strings. Too many factions. Stannis Baratheon’s death after burning his daughter could have been that great end-point of the show (the Baratheons known for gaining power by drawing the blood of their relatives finally take infighting to the deepest, darkest conclusion and are left with ashes) if we’d only been following Stannis, the Battle of the Bastards for the stark plot (to resolve the imbalance of rule of the north. The show starting with Ned and his family losing power and this culminating in the ultimate regain of that power through virtuous means but also new compromise and understanding of the “Great Game” on Sansa’s part), go all the way back to the Red Wedding and that could be that satisfying cut-off point if we only cared about the Starks.

           Instead, there’s a show pushing a bolder of its own plot threats up a mountain, slowly dwindling in stakes and tension as the plot armor becomes too strong to kill of anyone important. That’s kind of a problem. The show has lost what made it, and the books, so great in the first place. Understand that I’m mostly talking about the show Game of Thrones, not the book series—but, this is actually a problem I have with both if George RR Martin and the writers are shooting in the same direction. If the TV show was without a doubt Full Metal Alchemisting these final seasons, I would probably not feel the need to write this. I’d just wait for the books and get my sweet, sweet, Brotherhood fix with George’s conclusion—but what if George’s conclusion is the show’s conclusion? If the end-goals set up in the show are the ones I’m to expect in the books then all I can say is—George…my man…my buddy…my better Santa…dafq?

The Core of Game of Thrones:

           Here’s what I mean:

           The main selling point of George RR Martin’s books is not realism—stop that, please. When people say “realism”, they’re talking about the feeling of stakes and motivation that copy realism. In realism, a lot more people would have died from drinking the bacteria in foreign fresh water and syphilis by now. George RR Martin doesn’t kill people without purpose. They have a thematic or plot-related edge to them that makes every death make sense in the grand scheme of things.

           The main selling point of Georg RR Martin’s books is the subversion of expectation, actively taking tropes and turning them on their heads, and the consequences of actions. Every character is out to get something and if you don’t know what they want or how to make them think you can get it for them, you’ve lost. Here’s the problem of the show since season 5, more prominent in 6, and overt in 7, there are no consequences. All that cold-calculated conversation where you were trying to figure out what someone really wanted in the end-game is gone. All those terrible decisions made by Danny don’t backfire and have an overall consequence on how she’s viewed as a leader. Cersei—well the Margery-taking-over-thing was pretty good and the religion backfiring—but no consequence for blowing up the church when (especially in the books) it is explicitly stated that any ruler who ever did that was turned on by the people? The Iron Born suddenly decide to go and team up with Danny and give up their old ways in a snap because we need clear dividing lines on who is good and who is evil to wrap up this thing. Arya gets away with “tricking” the many faced men—the ultimate deception crew? No!

           But, here’s the thing that frustrates me the most about all of this, up until Season 7, I could live with it. Fine. The overall story still had some promise to it. We have the “prince that was promised” thread, Tyrion “using” Danny to get revenge on his family or just see what happens (though in the show they kind of just make him love her and have no motive). Jon essentially usurping Sansa’s birthright to be lady of Winterfell and keeping Little Finger around while also having not told him about the vale, and then the whole Arya killing spree she was finally going to go on, Cersie dealing with a city/country that had to hate her after blowing up the church, the white walkers still had potential to be twisted as some kind of “no yeah, we’re sapient, and it’s cold and we just wanna go south, shut up” type-thing. Pieces were in place to be played with and set in order that was unexpected—an order with consequence.

Why Season 7 Fails:

           What did I get in season 7?

           In a nutshell: sister’s fighting over nothing from 5+ years ago—Danny and Jon, the 5$ love story. Cersei sitting in her chair with a fresh set of crazy pants and Jamie being angry, but not enough to do anything about it. And last—OH NO—That one! That dragon! I’m not sure which one but oh no…oh no…that one’s dead. Bummer. Wall down. Scene.

           So…what was the consequences of this season? What were the biggest changes? The wall came down because the walkers had a dragon. Everything else was putzing around until that point. I’m not even joking. Little Finger’s death means nothing because he’s an inactive player in the story at that point. Danny’s getting evil—except—she’s always been evil (well, like, shes no more ruthless than she had been before). She crucified an entire city, so burning two guys alive is not out of character for her and changes nothing about the propoganda. Jon being declared the prince that was promised means nothing because that prophecy is vague. Bran’s omnipotent and missed the part where his aunt whispered the baby’s legal name because…reasons. Oh, oh, and the sand snakes finally died. Cheers to that.

Petty Child Explaining the Petty Rant

           Now, here’s why I’m so mad. Because they have set up for—maybe not a great ending—but a good one that stays true to the tone of the books. Yes, this is the part where I say I can do better—and I really REALLY wish I couldn’t. The fact that I want every action to have a consequence, should not be something I have to insert to a story.

           The following is “fixing” Season 7 of Game of Thrones, working with the plot threads set up at the beginning. I’m not going all the way back to 6 or 5 because that’s too much work, and I’m honestly just doing this for my own piece of mind. You can tell me this version of season 7 sucks. Hey, you’ve got the real TV version written by people with more talent and success than I’ll ever see. I’m some idiot with a keyboard and some ranting issues. Also, I’m more editing things that already exist like “working off the same budget” not adding new things, just going with what they gave me.

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           So, the best way to fix this is to go narrative thread by thread, so let’s start with the 2nd worst one first. Danny. Oh…Danny, Danny, Danny. So much set up. No payoff. Loved you this season, girl. In the original Season 7, nothing changes with her character besides her becoming the ultimate Mary Sue with everyone falling in love with her left and right and her never dying on her dragons. Nothing she does or says or what people do or say to her this season have consequence unless it leads to getting into her nephew, Jon’s, pants (is anyone else not creeped out that there are literally no degrees of separation there. Her brother was his father. He’s sleeping with is aunt…no? And she’s totally going to get pregnant with an incest baby next season because they made a really huge point of saying she couldn’t have kids (and that’s mostly a man’s fault if you can’t have kids—like biologically speaking). Okay, it was a thing when the Lannisters were doing it but sure).

DANNY CHANGE:

           To explain how to fix Danny is to explain her overall relevance to the plot—the plot of Game of Thrones. Her mechanical purpose was two main things. 1. Bring dragons to the army that dies of getting burned so that they can be defeated by getting burned, but also so that they have a dragon to break down the wall and make plot happen. 2. Be the inspirational invader that provides pressure for the native forces to band together and fight on two fronts (north and south) while bringing in these foreign fighters.

           Danny is not meant to sit on the iron throne. Mechanically, she has been foreshadowed to be a great conqueror and a terrible, terrible ruler. In the books, it is better portrayed that she’s a little girl who can draw in inspiration, but has no clue what she’s doing when we get down to brass tax. In the show, she’s like mid-20s, so it doesn’t come off the same way. But, that’s the core of her. A girl who does not want to become the monster of her past, but believes that her lineage—not her actions—makes her deserving—not earning—of the Iron Throne. She wants to rule over this country because it exists and someone told her it was hers. Danny is a villain so letting the invasion play out is fine, but the two major threads need to be addressed. 1. Dragons are in Westeros (check), but now they need to go north. 2. Danny is leading inspiration and causing terror (check if you do the first 3 episodes of her plot the same).

           There’s two main themes for Danny this season that culminate into nothing. She’ll ask for advice and listen to no one after they’ve given that advice “Be a dragon.” That should make Tyrion more frustrated with her and put a strain on their relationship because Westeros is Tyrion’s home, and he’s trying to put a ruler on it that he can’t mold to his views so easily. She’s an impulsive child. That’s what you should get out of all those close calls where she takes her dragon and nearly gets killed. The other theme is succession. After Danny is gone, what will happen? Danny doesn’t want to think about that, but she’s this inspirational ruler that brought armies across the sea for her. What do they have to fight for if Danny is dead? This isn’t their home. They won’t care after she’s gone. That’s why the children thing kept being brought up, and it’s never acted upon. So, here’s Danny’s conclusion for Season 7.

           That stupid plot with the guys going across the wall to kidnap a walker happens, they’re on that lakebed… sure. Tweak it. As Danny swoops in to save them she is yet again not listening to advice and endangering herself. Danny drops with Drogo to go pick up the SQUAD and it’s too hot. She gets on a dragon, commands one to pick up the boys while she goes straight for the white walker kings (as the boys could have pointed out to her that you kill the boss, the adds die). And then, that Olympic-gold-winning javelin throw goes straight into Drogo (the only dragon you can actually tell apart) with Danny riding on his back. They both plummet to the ground behind a mountain or something (not in the lake because where’d the wights get chains?) out of sight and the SQUAD has to take the walker and run because one of the least favorite children dragons takes them away already. Jon can even have his stupid staying behind moment if he was trying to get Danny if they really needed that scene (he’d have a reason to stay in the middle of the army of wights fighting one or two because he’s just as impulsive and brash). I’d prefer everyone just left on least-favorite-dragon #1 or #2 and they flew back over the wall.

           Then, by the end of the season, the white walkers now have the ice dragon they wanted. Not just any dragon. The only dragon the audience could name/care about: Drogo. (maybe Danny’s in there too as a wight, or a wight king if we wanna apply the rule of cool—like this would be kind of dumb but I’d want to see it. It’s probably more poetic for her to fall off the dragon and one of her least favorite children to pull her corpse out of the snow and fly her home).

What does this change/do?

           Danny’s arc is a woman who doesn’t want to be an evil ruler but is not willing to learn or be flexible. Her inflexibility and inability to understand her limits because of years of have the ultimate advantage of dragons is what causes her death, ending that thread. Two, now what are Danny’s forces doing in Esos? Tyrion still has this army to deal with and they have no leader, no inspiration. That burning fire that has been carrying them is snuffed out and an entire group of people who’d hoped to find a great ruler (Tyrion’s hope) is dead. As for Danny, she did not want to become a mad king like her father, she did not want to kill hundreds of thousands, but due to her inflexibility, her ultimate drive for power, her defiance of death shown many times throughout the series—she has failed to reach her ultimate potential (and if we go with the white walker thing, she defies death for the final time becoming the ultimate conqueror of death and the destined ultimate conqueror of the nation she set out to rule, but not how she would have wanted. (but this one I’m ehh on because I got a better plan)) She’s fallen to tragedy because of her lack of familiarity with the country she was going to reign over. (also something else pays off from this in like 10 paragraphs, I’m sorry).

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           Chopping block goes to Cersei next…also not that long. Mostly because it’s not hard to make it interesting.

CERSEI FIXING WHAT’S BROKE

           Cersei’s character is fine. It’s not great, it’s not the best with the magic plot lack of logic, but it’s fine. Have her do the thing with the iron bank and take Highgarden…Highgarden—the wealthiest country—being overthrown because…rich people don’t have the biggest armies to protect their loot? Oh my god, Highgarden. The way the show presented it, I could run in there with a toothpick and win.

           Anyway, sure. But, the people hate her because she blew up their religion. (I know the show plays it off that the people think it’s an accident but…come on). Consequences is that she now has lack of support from the people while this foreign invader tears up her home. She needs aid. So…she’ll call upon the north, upon Winterfell because there’s a new Boss up there who may be wiling to work with her. She hears they’re in need of military aid. Why wouldn’t she band together as many men as she could from all corners of her country to kill Danny?

           When she summons Jon, he’s already south yucking it up with Danny so Sansa has to deal with that.

What does this change?

            Things remain basically the same, but Cersei has to be willing to drag in new allies like she did with the Iron Born. The Lannisters have always been a flexible group. With the North having a new power player, why wouldn’t she reach out to them? Also, she should be shown protecting the people to keep them happy. It has never been a more crucial time to get rid of the problem that is Danny. Danny is making the people unhappy as Cersei’s reign is starting with the terror of invasion. People already hate Cersei. The longer Danny’s around, the more they’ll hate her. Now, she has motivation beside territory claims to hate Danny. Motivation is clear, it’s present, and it relies on public opinion—something the Lannisters are slaves to. The lions do consider the opinions of the sheep.

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That Meeting at the End Tho:

           Okay, that last episode was everyone bitching until nothing got accomplished or changed. Here’s how you change/fix it. Danny wasn’t invited. Cersei organized the meet-up, inviting Jon along with other lords she’s going to try to win over. Jon happens to be doing exactly what he’d been doing throughout the entire season with the walker expedition (there’s honestly just no good way to fix this, unless they break the wall early or if they just have Danny fly up, swoop down to grab a white and fly back. I get it. Mechanically, walkers need to be shown as real and dragon needs to die. Mostly, dragon needs to die) So the show can do whatever needed to happen to get Jon to meet Danny and be like…you’re a hot aunt. That…happened. Then the usual sich happens with Jon coming back with the walker. Sure. Whatever.

           But, we changed what happened with Danny. Danny’s now dead. Tyrion is the one in charge. So…what does he do when the Queen’s dead? Tell everyone pack up and go home? NO! He’s got a steak grilling on this army. He wants his family out of power and this is the only way he’s ever going to get anywhere. He’ll show up, uninvited, as the ambassador for the queen, a messenger protected by the knight’s law (or a dragon). He will take a seat at the council saying that Danny wants to negotiate peace in order to fight the wight walkers. Spin the excuse so that he says it was Danny’s plan all along to invade Westeros just to kill the things in the north and she has every intention of leaving afterwards (some kind of clever bs lie that gets his foot in the door and makes Cersei consider it).

           We’ll come back to this in a second, but the point is, this meeting had a reason to happen. Here, there’d be tension because…why couldn’t Danny come herself? Cersei has a reason afterwards to doubt the power of Danny. Tyrion is left a leader, unofficially an equal with his sister.

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           Next important plot line is Sansa, but it won’t be touched on that much. Because, basically, for what they were going for, they did okay. Like…yeah…if you took Sansa, put her in her own Sansa box in this season and edited some things in your mind, it’s cool.

SANSA, LADY OF WINTERHELL:

           Okay, so first off, Jon has to scream at Sansa for not letting anyone know that she had a cavalry that would be a larger army. That knowledge alone would have prevented many deaths in the battle of the bastards. (or at least have it that Sansa told him and then they go like “Oh, I guess the vale didn’t show…shit we have to fight these guys on our own” and then it just turns out the vale was late. Jimmy stubbed his toe—anyway). Sansa and Jon have a power dynamic that is inherently interesting—until it’s presented to you.

           A bunch of old white guys chose a bastard over a queen and Sansa’s birthright was taken from her. Now, the reason this is cool is because, though the Starks are the closest family, they haven’t seen each other in years and Sansa has grown up in places of manipulation and deceit. Living with her Aunt should have broken trust she had in family ties. Jon, has usurped her and she’ll see it like that, but know that he’s too stupid to have done it on purpose.

           In public, she has to put on a bold face because if they go against Jon, they go against the Starks. She and Jon are a packaged deal in the eyes of the northerners right now, so she has to be quiet and kind in public, while in private, they can have those confrontations. (If Sansa learned anything from the series, it should have been to keep her mouth shut and pretend to be one unbreakable unit—but she doesn’t in the show. Pretend she did in this version and went against Jon only in private). Sansa would be caught between two things: The love and trust she has left in her family, and survival through playing the great game. She can love Jon, but think he is a terrible leader in Winterfell, think/ know she can do better, be great where Jon is failing.

            When that letter comes from Danny inviting the king of the north, it should be Sansa pushing Jon to let her stay in charge if he does go—because she knows he will go. Make it her decision. The consequences of her conversations with him are carefully crafted for Jon to instill confidence in her and leave Winterfell to her as if it was his idea. Sansa wants power because she thinks she can be better. So, Jon shoves off, and she’s lady of Winterfell, to many people’s chagrin.

           Then, she uses the tactics she learned in the south, throwing sly comments here and there that make people twist on themselves and acknowledge her as ruler and stabilizes her power. She’s not trying to take the throne back from Jon as much as she’s trying to secure it (instead of little finger doing all of this for her). The entire Season 7 could have been her dance between loving her family and desiring power because she can’t trust anyone else with it. Little Finger would be the devil on one shoulder, whispering encouragement to be tricky. She could employ him to sway the Vale her way, making their change in allegiance and sudden trust in Sansa not LIttle Finger make sense. Arya would be the voice family on the other shoulder.

            Little Finger would still die in the end. Sansa, the most Tully of the Starks, ultimately choosing family over the poison she’s seen in the slimy pursuit of power—but she will want to remain lady of Winterfell because she’s doing such a good job at it and Jon (who she hasn’t seen in years, has deserted the night’s watch, come back, and never even waved at her as he passed their home some 2 odd times on his travel past the wall and back) isn’t capable, and she uses her manipulation to strengthen the FAMILY not herself.

What does Sansa change?

           This basically gives Sansa more agency and culminates in payoff for her arc. That whole thing where Arya was accusing Sansa of wanting power comes off as flat in the show because you know Sansa already chose family and hasn’t been manipulative, it’s only been Little Finger. So…give those actions weight. If Sansa really is torn, show why, because she has more than enough reason to be.

           She’s a new ruler of people in uncertain times whose alliances are in a shifting period. Power is hers and Jon’s but unstable and she should be able to see it. She does in the show. The fickleness of the people around her is a danger and honest tactics, which rely on knowing another’s character, is impossible for someone like Sansa or Jon who haven’t been present. Have men whispering of usurping the absent Starks, saying things were better before this dumb war. Have them saying two children of Ned, their failure, will get them all killed. Have Sansa deal with that. She’s learned from her travels how to be clever, how to make people follow her, how to gain power, but only ever power for herself. Here, with her family, she’ll take the cruelty she learned and grow as a character to expand her definition of rule and make the Starks, as a house, as a name, strong as a pack.

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           So, let’s go to the next major plot thread that made me gnash my teeth: Sibling rivalry. I think the worst part about this is that the fight between Sansa and Arya never needed to happen. It has no consequence. It had no reaosn to exist because niether sister changed status. Before, they were annoyed with one another but willing to work together. After, it’s the same thing. The presentation of this plot is also terrible. The writers leave you in the dark with Sansa and Arya because they want a cheap “shock factor” when Sansa puts Little Finger on trial. But for an entire season, Arya is bringing up bs from 5 years ago (as sisters tend to do) and threatening to murder her own sister over it! But, twist! Sansa and Arya actually weren’t fighting—but they were-and it was all a ploy to get Little Finger exposed…only we were only ever shown Arya saying she is super jiving to kill Sansa in a room with no one else around. Why would a single private conversation between them ever end with Arya threatening to kill her sister if they’re fine with each other by the end? It certainly wasn’t for Little Finger’s benifit, he clearly wasn’t around. It was to manipulate the audience, and it’s dumb. Simple as that. Dumb. Soap Opera levels of lacking in consequence. (In my head, Bran was the one to end it. Like the fight between the girls got so bad it literally created a future that would tear down Winterfell, so he had to grunt and wheel himself into a room with them. Then he used his omnipotent power and told both his sisters to stop being idiots off screen).

           Arya…oh god. She has plot armor just because she’s the favorite and it hurts. Nothing hurts more than seeing a 14 year-old rave about how they could have done everything better and you suck for bending to the world. And, unfortunately, she hasn’t had to compromise for a long time. Everyone she interacts with lets her get away with things that would kill other characters. (many faced men plot).  Somehow, she’s still one of my favorite characters in principle, but execution is….er… The girl needs a thematic slap on the wrist.

ARYA AND THE MANY-FACED CONTRIVANCES

           Let’s look at the core of Arya’s character again. She’s the reluctant princess. The girl who was wild and always wanted to be wild, and there were consequences for that for a very long time. She was never able to be a proper lady, and judged for that so she turned to being tough. That was great with the hound and the red wedding for a long time. Her learning the hardships and cruelties of the world and the need for compromise through a man like the hound was great. 

        Then, she goes to the many-faced men and…tricks them. The cult that makes a living understanding people and taking on the personas as their own indoctrinated a faker because 12-16 year old Arya was the first kid to try to trick them? By being good at the hazing ritual of being blind that everyone probably had to go through? It’s dumb, but roll with it because the books is doing it cleverly so I’ll live.

           Let’s say we keep that, but that the many-faced man let her go because he knew she’d only be more trouble if she stayed. (GLaD0s motivation pretty much. Want her gone because killing her has proven to be more trouble than its worth). Arya can have her Frey thing and the poisoning scene, but then she goes home to Winterfell. She was on a murder spree until she heard Jon was alive. When she gets there and there’s no Jon, she should want to go right back to murder. She’ll want to leave. But Sansa, seeing Arya is trying to travel alone to the most dangerous place in the country, will want to keep her around. As far as Sansa’s concerned, Arya is a child. To Sansa, if she goes out on her own again, she may very well die. Sansa has to keep Arya in Winterfell, lock her in for her own good, not wanting to split up a family. Arya can even tell Sansa she has people on her list to kill and Sansa isn’t going to believe her sister became a magical face-murderer. She’ll say “Okay, that’s nice. Wash up for dinner, don’t stab anyone, please stop creeping everyone out by staring at them like they all killed Nymeria.”

           So, Arya has a reason to bring up distrust and events of Sansa’s past. The sister fight now has a purpose grounded in the characters and their actions. The fight still shouldn’t last long. At best, two episodes. The consequences of a conversation/fight matter more than the actual fight/conversation.

            Set the scene so that Arya confronts and threatens to kill Sansa in that lying game. Sansa says something like this, “I’m keeping you here because I love you and I love my family. I don’t want you to die, and I don’t believe that you can waltz into king’s landing and kill the Lannister’s. You’re a child. You’re going to get yourself killed so excuse me for trying to keep what little of our family is left together. You belong home to be a lady of the house and help when winter is coming!” Only, you know, written well.

           Arya is told for the first time since bravos that she’s not “the shit.” (because who was listening to the waif or the many-faced guy. No one she’s taken seriously has talked her off of her high horse in a while and it shows). So the fight happens and though it ended with Sansa confessing her choice of choosing family over power, Arya takes it to heart that someone thinks she can’t take care of herself. She hates the the idea that she may still be that powerless little girl watching her father get executed from season one. All that’s been keeping her going since that point is that list. If she can’t check off the names, and can’t be a proper lady, what’s left of her? She’s stuck in the past, stuck in a fantasy that will be a revisionist history and keep her from achieving closure.

            Thinking this, Arya runs away from Winterfell and fast-travels to King’s Landing. There, she steals the face of another servant girl and tries to kill Cersei, but the mountain (or something) catches her and her face is removed. Cersei (who’d is about to have a council meeting with the king in the north) will now have leverage. She’ll use Arya as a pawn to win the Stark loyalty, showing her craft and desperate need for allies.

           Arya gets traded for Jon’s declaration of loyalty. He’ll choose family over Danny (who he’s been dicking around with for a while the same way as in the show, sure). Now we got a happy little brigade that’s going to fight the white walkers together.

What does this change?

           Now, there’s a reason for Arya to stay in Winterfell and for her to have a conflict with Sansa. It also fleshes out Sansa’s family vs cunning theme we were going for. Now, Arya can bring up her sister’s past mistakes because Sansa is actually trying to overthrow Jon, so there’s grounds for suspicion. NOW this fight has a consequence. It leads to Arya, who’d been a character shown to be consumed by revenge, relentlessly pursuing that path instead of truly coping.

           When Arya fails to kill Cersie, it makes an impact on her character. She goes to thinking she’s just as powerless as she was when she was little, and it crushes her, frustrates her, boils in her. She can’t stand that thought. She’s trapped in the past and now her purpose is shown to be infeasible. She’s the weak princess she didn’t want to be. (of course, she’s not actually, but that’s what she would think of herself as she’s taken down a peg and she’ll understand her sister’s need to play the game.)

           What else does this change? Something that I really hate. (coming up next).

THE PRINCE THAT WAS PROMISED

           I wonder who—it’s Jon. It’s always Jon. Sure. But NO! NO! NO! NO!

           Here’s why I say NO! Because prophecies in this show have been used as kind of like a cryptic underline to events that happen. Whatever is said is not always whatever is meant. Now, remember when everyone was theorizing who could be the prince that was promised and this is basically Game of Thrones Jesus? For the story to be in keeping with it’s original tone, Game of Thrones Jesus should not exist! Jon should not be him. He’s the most obvious choice and the show has built that up since day one. Sure. It was a three-way tie between Jon, Danny and Tyrion for a long time. But…how about this:

         Keep it the obvious choice everyone discounted. Keep it Danny.

           “But…you killed Danny in this narrative before anyone got to smash,” you say.

           “I did!” I say to you. “Because we’re going to make this prophecy better.”

           Arya has been set up as the girl who can steal faces, someone designed to slip into personas that aren’t hers and nothing of use has been done with that. (I mean in the overall plot. There’s this story telling tool that says you introduce a mechanic early on in a book and reuse that mechanic for another purpose later that wouldn’t be initially thought of. Face stealing is a mechanic with boundless potential).

             What if, at this meeting with Cersei, Arya is thrown in the center with the face of the servant she tried to use. Arya’s called a witch. Tyrion takes notice (because we put him at that meeting already). When Arya is traded back, and Jon has her, Tyrion takes Arya aside and asks her if she can slip into any face. (This is why we need Danny’s corpse back—Oh shit, Danny could be that white walker they present to Cersei. Like, they got what they wanted…you know what? They should have literally just brought someone [like a prisoner marked for death or something] over the wall, killed them, tied up the corpse, waited for the corpse to reanimate, walk back…ANYWAY). Tyrion and Arya have a conversation about the face-stealing-thing and a plan forms in his mind.

           He looks to Arya and asks, “How would you like another chance at ending the Lannister reign? I can help you kill all the people on your list.” (With better written dialogue). Arya’s super down for this plan. Why wouldn’t she be?

           They got the Danny-dead-body-face and Arya slips it on. Now, she’s impersonating queen Danny. In comes the Princess that was promised. Arya will be exactly who she wanted to be, Nymeria, the conquering queen, who has to juggle the duality of the game in her deception, with the gore and violent vengeance promised to her. Now, the legacy of Danny will truly be one of a merciless mad-queen driven only to kill the enemy. Burn them all, Arya. Burn them all.

WHY?

           Because I don’t doubt that Jon Snow’s birth would be a great twist, but it makes the prophecy too obvious now. It fits too well. I hate the prince that was promised prophecy because of how much it adheres to modern convention. I just think George has set up a world that can easily subvert the obvious. If it turned out that someone was wearing the face of the person who was supposed to be this prophesied messiah, that’s so much better in my opinion. (It also has to be someone the audience has as much attachment to as Danny. Someone from season 1, who won’t be a “lesser” replacement. You still want to keep people interested after killing off a major character so another major character has to take her place). Arya’s technically Danny from that point on, making her the prince that was promised. The “savior” is now Arya, the girl consumed by revenge and blood, the girl shaped in this world, taken all around it, and culminated into this leader for people she doesn’t care about. Her own goals are short-sighted, leaving her a pawn for Tyrion (a great ruler the people would never follow) to shape the world as he sees fit. You can even add Cersie’s prophecy that a younger queen will usurp her–Arya in Danny’s skin.

             You remember that phrase “The dragon has three heads?” One for Danny (the OG ruler), one for Arya/impersonator, one for Tyrion (the man who will rule in her name). I know it’s supposed to refer to the riders, but let me dream.

______________

           Oh my god, we’re finally near the end! There’s other plot points that aren’t great, but they either ultimately don’t impact the story that much, are implied with the changes, are fine as they are, or I don’t care. This is long enough as it is. A few closing thoughts: you can’t have a long-running series and kill off all the main characters while still keeping investment intact, I get it. Danny’s a favorite, so is Jon, so is Arya, so is Peter Dinklage. That’s why they have super thick plot armor. But, the show has grown toothless. The overall story is not the story of these characters. It’s the country’s story. How this one continent ends up scarred by the damage of people who ends up ruling it. Whoever sits on the Iron Throne says something about the world, not the people in it.

           The main conflict of the show is that there’s this terrible force coming in from the north. While it’s approaching, power has to be a loose structure and chaos has to run rampant through all of Westeros. If you watch everything before season 6 and say “Hey, looks like this country’s plot line is finally going to be in order and we may have a stable and just power structure”—No. That’s why you had the Red Wedding, that’s why you had the Lord of Light and demon baby, that’s why you have a line of dead Lannister kings. It’s a world-wide story. That’s why there’s no mini-cut off point with perfect plot resolution.

           Also, I know there’s a lot of cool stuff in the books I’m not mentioning. That’s because the books and show are separate entities with just the main stretch goals as their common ground at this point (I guess). So, most of this is show-based.

           I feel like I said this before, but I don’t hate this series. I love it. I’ve had a lot of fun with it. There’s a metric ton of talent going into the show and the books and I am glad they exist. I’m still dying waiting for the next book, and the show will have my groaning support every Sunday when it next airs. Until then, for my own piece of mind, I’ll just scream at this wall.

[van-dyne]

I'm thinking of skipping some seasons of spn, are there any seasons that would be good to skip(I don't want to skip them I just don't have the time to watch them)

S1-5 is the ‘classic’ supernatural, so don’t skip any of them. The first 5 seasons tell a coherent story, and it’s an Epic one. They set the tone of the show, develop your attachment to the characters, makes you fall in love with them and their relationship with one another. It’s the Winchesters origin story, and imo you’d always feel something is missing, something you can’t quite grasp if you hadn’t been there with them from the start. 

With that covered, let’s go into the later seasons, I assume you want to catch up with the current season asap? I wouldn’t recommend to skip a whole season because in order to understand the characters’ action (primarily Sam and Dean) you have to know what they’ve been through, and though the later seasons are more self contained, each has its own arc, it is still a coherent journey of the brothers as a whole. And they have quality episodes each season you dont want to miss.

Here’s the episode list from s 6-12, I highlighted the important episodes in order to understand the story for it to progress, also point out those fun and quality episodes you may not want to miss ;) (god it’s really long list) (sorry to those who’re on mobile) 

Season 6 (there’s something wrong with Sam (!), monsters, demons and angels all want to open the backdoor to purgatory (imo it’s a mess)1. Exile on Main Street2. Two and a Half Men 3. The Third Man 4. Weekend at Bobby’s* (Love letter to Bobby)5. Live Free or Twi-hard* (Dean becomes a vampire, temporarily) 6. You Can’t Handle the Truth 7. Family Matters 8. All Dogs Go to Heaven 9. Clap Your Hands If You Believe*  (This is a fun one, X-file style)10. Caged Heat 11. Appointment in Samarra 12. Like a Virgin 13. Unforgiven 14. Mannequin 3: The Reckoning 15. The French Mistake* (The one that will go down in television history) 16. And Then There Were None 17. My Heart Will Go On* (The one where they un-sink the Titanic)18. Frontierland* (The one where they time travel to the Western )19. Mommy Dearest 20. The Man Who Would Be King 21. Let It Bleed 22. The Man Who Knew Too Much

Season 7 (this season arc is basically Leviathan from purgatory is unleashed on earth and they can impose people, cause the winchesters a few, but they manage to off the monster in the end. The leviathan story is not that engaging but they have fun episodes. The more intriguing and important part in terms of characters arc is about Sam’s hallucination)  1. Meet the New Boss 2. Hello Cruel World 3. The Girl Next Door (Dean did something /questionable/)4. Defending Your Life 5. Shut Up, Dr. Phil* (The one with the Buffy reunion)6. Slash Fiction* (Leviathans!Winchesters, forcing the real winchesters on the run)7. The Mentalists (The bros resolve their conflict)8. Time for a Wedding! 9. How to Win Friends and Influence Monsters 10. Death’s Door 11. Adventures in Babysitting 12. Time After Time* (Dean travels back in time to the 40s) 13. The Slice Girls (Dean doesn’t want you to know about this one)14. Plucky Pennywhistle’s Magical Menagerie* (The one with the clowns, it’s fun)15. Repo Man 16. Out with the Old* (It’s a fun one, also Sam’s hallucination is getting worse)17. The Born-Again Identity 18. Party on, Garth (The one they drunk kill Ghost)19. Of Grave Importance 20. The Girl With the Dungeons and Dragons Tattoo* (The one introduces Charlie) 21. Reading is Fundamental (The one introduces Kevin)22. There Will Be Blood 23. Survival of the Fittest (The one where they finally off the big Dick)

Season 8 (Dean’s back from purgatory and Sam quit hunting for a year, bros are back together, conflict ensured, they find a way to shut the gates of Hell in the second half of the season) 1. We Need to Talk About Kevin 2. What’s Up, Tiger Mommy? 3. Heartache 4. Bitten 5. Blood Brother (Benny the vampire friend of Dean) 6. Southern Comfort (The bros are lashing out on each other)7. A Little Slice of Kevin 8. Hunteri Heroici (The one with the looney tones, so fun)9. Citizen Fang (More Benny)10. Torn and Frayed 11. LARP and the Real Girl (The one where Dean dresses up as Medieval knight, it’s good fun)12. As Time Goes By (Grandpa Henry Winchester! Introducing Men of letters)13. Everybody Hates Hitler (The one introduces the Bunker) 14. Trial and Error 15. Man’s Best Friend with Benefits 16. Remember the Titans (The one with all the greek gods, it’s solid episode)17. Goodbye Stranger 18. Freaks and Geeks 19. Taxi Driver 20. Pac-Man Fever 21. The Great Escapist 22. Clip Show 23. Sacrifice

Season 9  (Dean is burden with guilt)1. I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here 2. Devil May Care 3. I’m No Angel 4. Slumber Party 5. Dog Dean Afternoon (The one Dean becomes a dog, temporarily)  6. Heaven Can’t Wait 7. Bad Boys* (get to know a slice of Dean’s childhood)8. Rock and a Hard Place 9. Holy Terror 10. Road Trip 11. First Born 12. Sharp Teeth 13. The Purge* (Undercover as yoga instructor and food lady, it’s fun)14. Captives (The winchesters have really nice coats in this one just sayin) 15. #thinman 16. Blade Runners 17. Mother’s Little Helper 18. Meta Fiction (it’s weird one I don’t know)19. Alex Annie Alexis Ann 20. Bloodlines 21. King of the Damned 22. Stairway to Heaven 23. Do You Believe in Miracles

Season 10 (Sam is gonna save his Dean no matter the cost) 1. Black 2. Reichenbach 3. Soul Survivor 4. Paper Moon* (Something you need, as a therapy, after the first three episode)5. Fan Fiction* (The one with the Supernatural Meta Musical) 6. Ask Jeeves* (Cluedo style, FUN)7. Girls, Girls, Girls 8. Hibbing 911 9. The Things We Left Behind* (Re-introduces Claire novak) 10. The Hunter Games 11. There’s No Place Like Home* (Charlie and her evil twins) 12. About a Boy* (De-aged Dean, yes) 13. Halt & Catch Fire 14. The Executioner’s Song !! (holy shit this episode)15. The Things They Carried 16. Paint it Black17. Inside Man 18. Book of the Damned 19. The Werther Project 20. Angel Heart 21. Dark Dynasty 22. The Prisoner 23. Brother’s Keeper

Season 11 (Darkness on earth, but at least the brothers are on the same page) 1. Out of the Darkness, Into the Fire 2. Form and Void 3. The Bad Seed 4. Baby ** !! ( A love letter to Baby)5. Thin Lizzie (There’s that kid from Stranger Things)6. Our Little World 7. Plush 8. Just My Imagination* !! (the one with the imaginary friend, very fun and unique)9. O Brother Where Art Thou? 10. The Devil in the Details 11. Into the Mystic 12. Don’t You Forget About Me 13. Love Hurts* (epic Winchesters wardrobe) 14. The Vessel* (Dean travels back in time! again)15. Beyond the Mat* (Happy fanboy Winchesters)16. Safe House* (Bobby and Rufus old case)17. Red Meat* !! (Epic Monster of the week episode)18. Hell’s Angel 19. The Chitters 20. Don’t Call Me Shurley !!21. All in the Family (Meh but you kinda maybe need to watch it)22. We Happy Few (UGH but you kinda maybe need to watch it)23. Alpha and Omega

Season 12 (British Men of Letters wants to take control of the American hunters, also Mama Winchester is back, also a hot mess) 1. Keep Calm and Carry On 2. Mamma Mia 3. The Foundry 4. American Nightmare* (the theme is dark af but it’s a very good episode) 5. The One You’ve Been Waiting For (Dean kills Hitler)6. Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox* (introduces the hunter network, solid episode)7. Rock Never Dies 8. Lotus 9. First Blood 10. Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets 11. Regarding Dean** (Jensen A+ acting)12. Stuck in the Middle (With You) * (the way this episode is directed is worth watching)13. Family Feud 14. The Raid 15. Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell 16. Ladies Drink Free 17. The British Invasion 18. The Memory Remains 19. The Future 20. Twigs & Twine & Tasha Banes* (A solid monster of the week episode with the Hunter Twins) 21. There’s Something About Mary 22. Who We Are !! (this episode imo saves the whole season)23. All Along the Watchtower ! (now you’re excited for what comes next)

[allyinthekeyofx]

In my field of paper flowers 2/7

Chapter one

Chapter two

I glance across at Scully after we all made it into the living room like sleepwalkers, the three of us drifted back together, unconsciously forming the same triangle that we had formed so many times over the years. Skinner perched on the comfortable, overstuffed chair that Scully had taken a liking to at a local flea market, while she and I sat like bookends at either end of the sofa. Our boss looked incongruous somehow against the delicate floral print. A big bear of a man whose appearance belied his advancing age. He hadn’t changed much over the years, but I guessed he must be approaching his middle sixties and heading swiftly for retirement.

It’s sometimes hard to believe that so much time has passed.

Apollo, after deciding that Skinner was friend not foe, had settled in the space that separated me from Scully and snored softly, legs twitching occasionally as he chased rabbits in his dreams. I was glad he was there simply because he gave Scully something to focus on, and her hand rests gently on his head, caressing his ears with her fingertips.

Even now, after everything we’d all been through together, I know Scully would resist my attempts to comfort her while Skinner is here. Her armour is back in place, as strong and impenetrable as it has always been and I can count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times she has allowed a chink to form when in the company of others.

So, after the initial shock had a chance to settle slightly within me, I had done the only thing I could think to do at the time. I had made tea. I wished I’d had something stronger because for a few sickening moments, I had been convinced that Scully was going to collapse as the blood quite literally drained from her face at the news Skinner had brought to us; But I had stopped drinking anything resembling hard liquor years before, knowing that if I carried on abusing my body and my mind, that eventually there would be nothing left.

The tea though, has remained largely untouched by all of us.

I had been quite unable to suppress the sudden rush of paranoia that had assaulted me upon hearing that John had been killed. Over fifteen years had passed. He had moved on, returned to New York and had largely blended back in. His brief association with me had left him remarkably unscathed and despite the allegiances he had formed – to Scully in particular – he disappeared from both our lives as though he’d never been there. He’d made no attempt to contact us upon our return and although his name still graced a handful of files in our office – a recorded reminder that he’d once been one of us - we hadn’t contacted him either.

And now we never would.

My paranoia, as it turned out though, was misplaced although the circumstances of his death were no less unfathomable.

A Saturday morning stroll to his local Starbucks had ended in tragedy. According to witnesses, John had been waiting in line when an argument had broken out between a customer and one of the counter staff. He had stepped in to try to calm the situation down before it got too heated - as a concerned member of the public not as an Agent of the FBI. It was Saturday morning. He’d just gone to get breakfast.

I can hear that voice in my head as though it were yesterday, the calm, measured, respectful tones that John would use when trying to diffuse someone’s rage.

God knows, he’d used that tone often enough on me.

But this time, all that respect got him was a 22 calibre bullet in the kidney; bleeding out right there on the floor of the coffee shop, while the bastard who shot him waved the gun at the frightened patrons within. Creating a brief hostage situation that prevented local law enforcement from immediately entering the building.

It had all been over in less than twenty minutes.

Which was twenty minutes too long for John.

Because even as police stormed the building and disarmed the shooter, who was by this time, crying like a baby, Special Agent John Doggett was dead.

A man who had faced down unimaginable horrors and lived to walk away, had been cut down over a cup of fucking coffee.

If it weren’t so tragic it would almost be funny.

“Will you go to the funeral?”

Scully’s voice is so quiet I have to strain my ears to hear the question she asks of Skinner.

I already know that she will want to attend. To pay her respects to a man, who I eventually learned to accept, had stepped in to support her when I no longer could.

She doesn’t speak so often of those dark days after I had been taken. I don’t like to talk about it either because in truth, I’m afraid to talk about it, lest the darkness returns to claim me once again. 

She doesn’t need that. Neither of us needs that; and over time it’s become a bit like a broken ankle – encase it in plaster and it doesn’t hurt anymore. But just because we mask the pain, it doesn’t mean that the bones aren’t broken.

I try not to think about any of it if I can help it because I don’t really think those bones will ever completely mend. The sacrifices were just too great for both of us and I still burn with shame when I remember the look on her face when we both realised I couldn’t stay; that for all our sakes I had to flee and that for a second time she would be left to face things alone.

Ditching her again, even as she told me that there could be no other way to keep me safe I should have argued, refused to accept her fears for me as she stood there cradling my baby son in her arms.

But I hadn’t because a part of me still burned with a desire to uncover the truth.

That to find answers was the only way to make it all stop.

I had walked out of her apartment without looking back. Because I knew if I had allowed myself to look at her just that one last time, I would have turned around and walked straight back in.

And so I left.

Again.

But we had been wrong. So fucking wrong that now, when I allow myself to think of it, I can’t believe how blind we’d been back then.

And even now, sometimes, at night, my dreams are haunted by the sound of Scully’s anguish, mingling with our baby’s wailing cries and I bolt awake, hands pressed against my head, trying to block out the pain and the shame and the guilt that still burns like acid inside me. I will never be able to cleanse myself of it.

But John had never questioned our motives. He had simply stepped in to take over my role. As best he could he tried. Putting everything on hold to follow us for a cause he had never really understood - to help find the truth. To keep Scully safe.

I will always be grateful to him.......

“As soon as I get a date I’ll let you know. I guess it’ll be within the next couple of weeks...”

Skinner rises slowly to his feet, his concern for her all too evident but it’s clear he is mindful of not wishing to intrude on her grief any longer than he has to. But he surprises me by gently placing a hand atop her head, pausing in front of her.

“I’m sorry Dana.”

From my vantage point I see her hand tighten convulsively around one of the tufts of hair that stick up at crazy angles from Apollo’s ears and I know she is fighting with everything she’s got, to not break down. I know this woman so well it scares me and I send up a silent plea to Skinner to just go.

Maybe he hears me, I don’t know, but with one last nod in my direction, he heads for the door and in seconds, is gone.

I stretch my arm toward her then, attempting to bridge the gap that has once more appeared between us, but she is on her feet before I can make contact, her movement just violent enough to awaken Apollo who jumps down to the floor, all sleepy tail wagging and blinking eyes.

“Scully?....”

“I’m fine Mulder. It’s late. I should go....”

She won’t meet my eyes. It’s a standard Scully evasion technique. I think I first recognised it for what it was when she stood trembling before me in the aftermath of the whole Donnie Pfaster mess.

That terrifying night when she realised for the first time that some monsters were real.

It was also the first night I realised I loved her.

Was in love with her.

And as I had gently forced her to look at me, her resolve had come crashing down. Those blue eyes full of terror and pain and something else that I later realised was shame. Shame that she had allowed herself to be vulnerable.

But tonight, just like so many years ago, she is fighting me all the way.

“I’ll call you tomorrow”

And then she is gone. Turning on her heel and heading for the door, Apollo trotting obediently behind her leaving my hand hovering in mid air.

Oh Scully

I wish she would just talk to me. But I know that I am at least partly responsible for the way she acts. Too many times in the last ten years I have waved away her concerns, her fears, and her need for comfort.

She has no reason to think that tonight would be any different.

I sigh and take the untouched drinks to the kitchen, placing them on the countertop. I’ll wash the mugs in the morning.

And then it suddenly strikes me that I haven’t heard Scully’s car, which is odd because normally when she’s in flight mode, the departure is pretty damn fast.

I cross the kitchen and tentatively open the door. It’s a fine line between concern and intrusion, especially where Scully is concerned, but I’m not entirely sure why she hasn’t left yet and I will take a few angry words if that’s what it takes for me to affirm that she’s ok.

At first I don’t see her but as my eyes to adjust to the dark I can just make her out, standing at the edge of the field that borders the property, her arms wrapped around her body in a gesture of protection. She is crying. I can tell just by looking at her and Apollo is sat beside her, raking her leg with his paw – his own brand of canine sympathy I realise.

There’s a small voice inside of me that tells me to just go back into the house, to allow her this space. But I ignore it. Whether she wants me or not, this time I refuse to walk away from her. And even though I know she hears my footsteps behind her, she doesn’t turn around. I don’t expect her to. I simply encircle her with my long arms, pulling her back just ever so slightly, so she is leaning her back against my chest. It has never ceased to amaze me just how well we fit together and like pieces of a jigsaw I rest my chin lightly on the crown of her head.

“It’s okay Scully. Ssssshhhhhh ”

We remain there even as it starts to rain again. I can’t say for certain how much time has passed, but Apollo has long since returned to the porch. I heard his claws beating a tiny tattoo on the wooden boards as he paced for a minute before settling down. He has no wish to get soaked. But I don’t really notice the rain. I don’t really notice anything other than the feel of this woman in my arms.

Until Scully suddenly takes a deep, shuddering breath and presses herself deeper against me. In response I tighten my arms around her and without really thinking, I start to gently rock her.

“It’s okay” I repeat.

And even though I can’t see her, I know she is smiling; an almost imperceptible movement that I feel inside of me. Oh yeah. I know this woman. Better than I know myself I think.

“It’s so beautiful here. I’d forgotten how beautiful it is at night.”

I don’t speak. Lest I break the spell, and I am rewarded when she continues.

“Do you remember when you made me paper flowers?”

Paper flowers.

The day Scully came home from a brutal shift at the hospital  and decided we needed a garden; flowers to break up the long grasses that surround the house. It was at a time when we were both so desperate to find some colour in the world again and the next day I had spent the time while she was at work, not on the computer, cataloguing and sorting and searching for answers, but cursing at the kitchen table as I wrestled with wooden sticks, crepe paper and tape. 

I’m the first to admit that I’m sorely lacking in the artistic department but by the time Scully came home, the edge of the field was planted with brightly coloured paper flowers, swaying gently in the chill November breeze. I can’t say they resembled a particular flower. I’d gone for daisies. And from a distance I suppose they looked pretty daisy-like if daisies could be found in such a variety of rainbow hues that is.

And she’d laughed. The first really genuine laugh I’d heard in months.

Mulder you’re crazy

I hadn’t disagreed with her; just followed her as she went to investigate further, standing in the long grass, amongst those stupid paper flowers in the frigid November air, a goofy grin on my face because I’d made her happy.

So long ago.

“I remember” I whisper.

She is still then and I know she is crying again.

But when I gently turn her around to face me, she doesn’t resist. Instead she brings her small hand up to lay against my cheek.

“I loved you so much that day.”

I feel my throat constrict painfully

“Me too....” I smile then, covering her hand with my own before working my fingers beneath it and lifting it gently away as I bring it to my lips, kissing the chilled skin softly.

“Come on G woman. Let’s get you inside.”

And just for a moment as I pause before I lead her back toward the house, I can see those brightly coloured flowers in front of me as though it were yesterday and by the look on her face, I think that maybe she sees them too.

Continued chapter 3

[diabolik-bitchchan-blog]

All for "This or That"

You are my favorite anon-chan

(Rose) - Pick one of them to drink your blood: Subaru or Kou.

I have go with Subaru for this one.

(Baby’s Breath) - Pick one of them to drink your blood: Reiji or Ruki.

Ruki (Carnation) - Pick one of them to drink your blood: Shuu or Yuma.

This is a tough one but I’ll go with Yuma.

(Amaryllis) - Pick one of them to drink your blood: Ayato or Laito.

Laito always (Dahlia) - Pick one of them to drink your blood: Kanato or Azusa.

why do I have to choose between the adorable cinnamon rolls D: can I choose both? I’ll go with kanato 

(Allium) - Which date do you go on: Wandering through the cemetery with Kanato or studying microbiology with Reiji?

Cemetery with kanato. anything but studying with salty pigeon mom

(Amaranth) - Which date do you go on: Intense concert practice with Kou or shelving books with Ruki? 

Both would be lovely but a concert with Kou sounds more fun ^_^

(Anemones) - Which date do you go on: Being Shuu’s unmoving body pillow for eight hours or shoveling soil with Yuma?

Shuu’s body pillow

(Anthurium) - Which date do you go on: Totally unfair basketball practice with Ayato or dangerous game of darts with Laito?

Dangerous game of darts sounds fun :D

(Astilbe) - Which boy’s bad side would you rather be on: Yuma or Reiji

oh god what did I do .-. um I guess lets go with yuma it might be a little safer Reiji scares me sometimes

(Astrantia) -  Which boy’s bad side would you rather be on: Ruki or Kanato

Ruki would much better. I’d prefer not to be stabbed. Cause I feel like cake won’t resolve being on Kanato’s bad side

(Calla Lilies) -  Which boy’s bad side would you rather be on: Laito or Kou

.-. neither Kou scares me more though so Laito. I just gotta stay away from places that would result in being pushed off. 

(Chrysanthemum) - Which boy would you save from death: Shuu or Azusa

ahh fuck no I choose bboth. okay I would go Azusa gotta protect the cinnamon rolls

(Clematis) - Which boy would you save from death: Subaru or Ayato

This is even harding than the first one .-. but I’ll choose Ayato.

(Craspedia) - Which boy would you save from death: Reiji or Ruki

Ruki. I just hope the sakamaki mansion will remain intact somehow

(Daffodil) - If you got permission to clonk one on the head without negative consequences, who would you pick: Yuma or Shuu

I don’t know. I woulnd’t feel the need to do this to either of them but I guess I’ll choose Shu.(Freesia) - If you got permission to clonk one on the head without negative consequences, who would you pick: Ayato or Kou

Kou it would be kinda funny. Can I do this in front of his fangirls?

(Hydrangea) - If you got permission to clonk one on the head without negative consequences, who would you pick: Laito or Ruki

Ruki because he keeps calling me livestock D:

(Iris) - You’re pregnant! Who’s the dad: Reiji or Kanato

Guess what Kanato? You’re now a father(Orchid) - You’re pregnant! Who’s the dad: Subaru or Ruki

Subaru. *if you listen closely you can he walls being destroyed in the distance*

(Peony) - You’re pregnant! Who’s the dad: Yuma or Kou

Yuma better work on bigger garden! We’ll have more mouths to feed.

(Veronica) - Who stole your virginity: Subaru or Azusa

Azusa is a father (Tulips) - Who stole your virginity: Shuu or Ayato

Ayato because Ore-sama will steal all your firsts

(Aster) - Who stole your virginity: Reiji or Laito

Laito

(Iron) - Who gets to dominate you to his liking: Kou or Subaru

Tsunbaru ^.^

(Steel) - Who gets to dominate you to his liking: Yuma or Ayato

Yuma ;3

(Gunmetal) - Who gets to dominate you to his liking: Ruki or Kanato

Kanato

(Silver) - Who gets to give you a haircut: Laito or Shuu

that’s a tough one considering I do my hair myself and I’m not a fan of letting others do things such as cutting or dying it( had a few bad experiences so I learned to do it myself) Tbh I wouldn’t trust either with this but I’ll go with Laito because he does seem to have some experience with dealing with hair *In more blood he does your hair

(Gold) - Who gets to give you a haircut: Ruki or Kou

Kou. He’s an Idol I feel like he would know what he’s doing 

(Rust) - Who gets to give you a haircut: Kanato or Azusa

Kanato. I feel like he would have better knowledge of hair cutting and is one of the 2 I’d trust with this

(Copper) - Pick a bad deed: burned Ruki’s favorite book or threw a spider at Laito.

Sorry Ruki but fuck your books I’ll by you new ones. Please don’t kill me lol. I hate spiders and refuse to touch one. I wouldn’t want someone throwing one on me so I wouldn’t do that to him. I understand the fear way too well.

(Bronze) - Pick a bad deed: stomped Yuma’s tomatoes or ruined Shuu’s MP3 player.

Sorry Yuma but you can grow more. Again I wouldn’t want someone doing that to my Mp3 player. I need my music. So I wouldn’t do that to Shuu

(Brass) - Pick a bad deed: knocked over Reiji’s alchemy ingredient shelf or got stains on Teddy.

Fuck your alchemy ingredient pigeon boy! I rather not die thank you very much.

(Nickel) - Pick a bad deed: threw away all of Azusa’s knives or hit Subaru with a Subaru and made a bad joke to his face.

Throw away Azusa knives. You don’t need be hurting yourself dear. If thats what it takes to make you stop.

(Zinc) - Whose heart did you break, u monster: Ruki or Kou

Kou Screw you Idol arse! jking .-. sorry Kou

(Titanium) - Whose heart did you break, u monster: Yuma or Reiji

Reiji. Sorry not sorry I refuse to be forced to your “ladylike” standards

(Aluminum) - Whose heart did you break, u monster: Shuu or Ayato

Sorry Shuu T_T

(Platinum) - Whose heart did you break, u monster: Kanato or Subaru

oh god why do I have choose between these 2 >.> sorry subaru but I can’t break the screaming cinnamon rolls heart I just can’t

(Tin) - You’ve been a bad girl, who gets to punish you: Laito or Ayato

Laito of course ;3. Totally wasn’t bad on purpose or anything ;P

(Lead) -  You’ve been a bad girl, who gets to punish you: Azusa or Kanato

umm.. well results are roughly the same here soo I guess I’ll choose the screaming cinnamon roll Kanato(Bismuth) -  You’ve been a bad girl, who gets to punish you: Subaru or Yuma

Subaru

(Cobalt) - Who gets to rip out your heart and devour it: Shuu or Reiji

Reiji. He need something on this list that isnt a bad choice

(Palladium) - Who gets to rip out your heart and devour it: Ruki or Ayato

Ayato can have it

(Rhodium) - Who gets to rip out your heart and devour it: Laito or Kou

Laito (Mercury) - Who gets to rip out your heart and devour it: Subaru or Kanato

Kanato doesn’t he like that sort of thing anyway?

(Iridium) - Who gets to rip out your heart and devour it: Yuma or Azusa

Azusa. How could I say no to such a cutie.

(Thallium) - Pick the more preferable scenario: becoming one of Kanato’s dolls or being forever locked in the dungeon as Laito’s toy.

I’d be cool  with both options but I’d like to be alive so Laito’s toy it is( let’s be honest here I was going to choose Laito regardless)

(Seaborgium) - Pick the more preferable scenario: slowly eaten alive by Ayato or slowly stabbed to death by Azusa.

ლ(ಠ_ಠლ) Jesus.. well im dead either Stab me bb

(Vanadium) - Pick the more preferable scenario: drowning to death with Shuu or strangled to death by Yuma.

Drowning with shuu. If I’m doing I’m dieing via water. It’s my favorite element

(Chromium) - Pick the more preferable scenario: violently eaten alive by Subaru or Reiji’s toy until inevitable death.

... Reiji’s toy it is. Being eaten alive just sounds terribly painful.

(Sapphire) - Who would you rather cook dinner with: Kou or Subaru

Subaru. Can kou even cook?

(Ruby) - Who would you rather cook dinner with: Reiji or Kanato

Reiji cause I know I’ll be yummy.

(Garnet) - Who would you rather cook dinner with: Yuma or Ayato

yuma

(Pearl) - Pick one to be on your zombie apocalypse team: Shuu or Kanato

Kanato. He can just burn their undead arses.

(Amethyst) - Pick one to be on your zombie apocalypse team: Ruki or Azusa

Ruki. Sorry azusa but I need someone would prefer not being eaten

(Diamond) - Pick one to be on your zombie apocalypse team: Reiji or Laito

Reiji. He would be better. much smarter for this kind of thing

(Jade) - Pick the more preferable activity: building a pillow fort with Shuu or playing house with Kanato.

both sound awesome but I gotta go with the pillow fort

(Jasper) - Pick the more preferable activity: helping Reiji with his alchemy or wandering the rose garden with Subaru.

Rose garden with Subaru

(Peridot) - Pick the more preferable activity: assisting Laito with his crossword puzzle or cooking with Ayato.

both sounds really fun but I think crossword puzzles would be more fun :)

(Opal) - Pick the more preferable activity: silently reading with Ruki or hardcore karaoke with Kou.

I am horrid at singing so absolutely not kou. Silently reading with ruki sounds much better 

(Sodalite) - Pick the more preferable activity: picking strawberries with Yuma or admiring scars with Azusa.

I actually like both of these cause I feel like I could have a really deep conversation with Azusa and I love deep Conversations. Seriously you ever want talk to someone about whatever I’ll listen ^.^ 

I also really like strawberries and strawberry picking sounds really fun. I’ve never got to do something like that before. I think I’ll choose strawberry picking ^.^

(Lapis Lazuli) - Last, but not least, if you got to live any of the endings from any game, which would it be?

Laito’s Vandead Carnival ending