#ruby is sam-coded also what a great name for a character that is sam-coded

[batfamiliar]

there is something wrong with me.

there is something ugly following me, it must be, because why else would everyone leave me. something is wrong with me and that's why everybody leaves. and i tried, i tried so hard to make peace with how ugly this part of me is. i tried to keep it at a distance, keep it separate from me. but any time somebody caught even a glimpse of it, it frightened them and then they left.

there is something wrong with me and it makes people leave me and so they can never find out. they can never see that ugly side of me because then they will leave. except i'm hiding it and they still leave. what am i doing wrong? did it slip through somehow and made them leave? or is the ugliness in me still?

i try so hard to hide it because i don't want to be alone, i don't want to be abandoned dammit, but the ugliness won't leave and the ugliness is all i can think about. i think about it more than i think about my partner, my friends, my family. in a way, it's the closest thing to home i have now

and then something happens and i think to myself - this is it. this is what all of this has been for, something is wrong with me and everybody leaves me. but. if i can be useful then maybe this awful ugliness will finally leave me alone. yes i want to be left alone now, please abandon me like everybody else, please prove me right

and then i'm useful and the ugliness stays. i sigh

years pass and people continue to leave me. i don't know if it's because of me or her anymore, it doesn't really matter. everybody left, but she is still here. i can always see her out of the corner of my eye. her presence brings me comfort. she stayed. despite everything she stayed. she is my closest confidant, my best friend, the one that will stand with me when nobody else will

she is me

and i won't abandon myself anymore

[autisticempathydaemon]

I had good intentions (and the highest hopes)

aka “I saw a bastard character named Alexis and projected onto her for 2.8k words.”

cw: canon-typical violence, canon-typical car accident, Darlin calls themselves Tank, minor Sam/Darlin, autistic-coded character, Southern Alexis

Hands behind her back, eyes on the ceiling, balanced in a stiff, nervous teeter on the sides of her feet, Alexis looks like a child waiting to be scolded, not the scourge of their revenge fantasies. Tank is glad they’re sitting, because the cognitive dissonance is a bitch.

Also available on AO3

Tank thinks it’s really cute how they’re the one that can turn into a wolf but Sam is the partner who perks up to sounds only he can hear like a vigilant puppy.

“Sorry, Darlin,” Sam whispers, reluctantly pulling away from their kiss, just far enough they can still feel his eyelashes against their skin. “William is calling for me, probably wants to check in on the progeny before I leave. I shouldn’t be long, and then I’ll take you out like I promised.” He presses another kiss, light as a feather, against their forehead and speeds out the door with a sweet grin.

A sweet, loving, foolishly trusting grin, because how often does a shifter get the opportunity to explore the labyrinthian splendor of the Solaire palace?

It’s not actually a palace- it’s not a castle or anything- but it is a mansion with god knows how many rooms. William can’t just give his progeny and theirs houses, no, the great Solaire King also has individual bedrooms and sitting rooms for each member of his clan. Exploring new places this far got them a mate, same for Vincent’s electric friend. Surely no one would begrudge them a little more…

…is what Tank thought before they got lost.

William Solaire has an astonishing amount of richly decorated studies with bookshelves full of tomes that all look the same. Like, a ridiculous amount. So when Tank opens a door and it’s just a normal, average sitting room, they step in and breathe in a scent that’s not leather and old paper but subtle smoke and honey.

Unlike the deep browns and burgundy reds that the King seems to prefer, this space is painted a pleasant periwinkle blue, calming and light. The windowless walls are lined with shelves of vinyls, and where William placed a hilariously ostentatious marble bust, there sits a record player. Tank takes a second to browse the shelves and wonder whose space this is- Bright Eye’s maybe?- when they hear a creaking door and a faint, feminine, Southern lilt.

“Vin, I’m not really- You’re not Vincent.”

Alexis doesn’t look like her reputation. Though, in retrospect, Tank is not quite sure what they expected. Tall, maybe? A marble-skinned, crimson-eyed Cullen? An Elvira-esque seductress sheathed in blood and scorn?

They didn’t expect her to be so… small. They didn’t expect wide, doe eyes fixating on the carpet in front of their feet or long, unruly hair curtaining her face or slender fingers fidgeting anxiously with the doorknob.

“Did you-“ She starts, ruby-studded silver eyes flicking up by their head and back to the ground, feeding that familiar rage in Tank’s gut. This is the leech that turned Sam against his will, and she doesn’t have the guts to face them? “You know what, never mind, I’ll go.” To stand her ground even?

“You’re her,” Tank says, the words dripping cold and heavy from their tongue like leaden venom. The infamous Solaire princess slowly turns back, having begun to close the door, and nods.

“Yes, I’m Alexis.” A small, tight rictus spreads across her face, making them imperceptibly stiffen at the show of fangs. “Pleasure to meet you. If you’ll excuse me-“

“What, afraid of the big bad wolf, leech? Afraid of someone who can bite back?” Alexis tightens her fists so hard her knuckles pop, and Tank revels in the loss of composure.

“I’m not afraid, I’m-“ Her voice hitches, high-pitched and angry, and the wolf in them readies to spring when Alexis tilts her head back, closes her eyes, and breathes. “Where you go, I’m sure Sam ain’t far behind, and I know when to make myself scarce.” She waves a hand through the air in a dismissive gesture that only irritates them further. “Creature of the night and all that jazz. I know better now to stay away from where I’m not wanted.” She starts to turn again, and something about Alexis showing her back so carelessly ignites Tank’s blood like gasoline.

“If that’s so, why are you even here?” they snarl, spitting the words with hopes they’ll hurt. “I doubt the Solaires have any need for useless bloodsuckers who bring nothing but trouble and aren’t even sorry-“

“Of course, I’m fuckin’ sorry-“ Silver flashes, hardens to steel, and hones sharp onto Tank’s face. They are fighting the instinct to visibly flinch when Alexis sucks in a deep breath and screws her eyes shut. When she opens them again, her hands are twisting knots in her long, black skirt, but her face is calm.

“Of course, I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t mean shit, I know it doesn’t change what I did, I know no one wants to hear it, but I acknowledge what I did was wrong and disrespectful.” The shifter grits their teeth at the practiced, even-keeled delivery of their speech, at the lackluster, blasé farce of sincerity.

“I cannot change the past, I cannot change what I did, I cannot change how anyone feels about me as a result; I can only change my behavior, and I’m working on that.” Alexis’s gaze travels from the floor to Tank’s squared shoulders, and her own curl inwards. “Can I go now?”

“Gee, not even going to take a bow after that little performance? Can’t blame you, seemed a bit scripted to me.”

“It’s not-“ Tank had been ready for anger, wrath, any reaction that wasn’t this meek pretense at remorse; they had been ready for a fight. They hadn’t been ready for Alexis’ face to fall into clear, abject dejection or for her to hide behind her hands.

“I have to say it a lot in therapy, okay? If it sounds rehearsed, it’s because I use it as a mantra and because I was told to calm down and think about my “I” statements before I act.”

They hadn’t been ready for that either.

“You… go to therapy” Tank repeats, the words tasting odd and unfamiliar in their mouth. Of all the things they had expected Alexis to do in her spare time (skulking, plotting, ruining more lives), that had not been one of them.

“Yes, I go to therapy,” she says bluntly, casually upending a little bit of Tank’s world. “I had to.”

“Did Daddy have to force you to get help? Was invoking the only way to make that happen?” The barb comes out so naturally, they’re shocked that that’s the one that makes Alexis growl, eyes narrowed at their feet, fingers curling into violent claws.

“I wasn’t invoked into counseling; William would never. I had a choice, because the king practices what he preaches, and he gave two options: get help or get out.” Alexis’s hands curl and unfurl in her skirt, and Tank relishes, just a little bit, that the girl was given an ultimatum. “William knew I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so he took me to the department, got me someone to talk to. That’s where I just was.” She exhales slowly, all vestige of fight draining out of her shoulders, and gestures a tired hand down the hall. “He has me check in with him after every session, you can confirm with him.”

“Did it help?” Silver eyes rise, peeking out from behind dark hair in surprise, and they imagine their face must mirror hers. Tank is also surprised at their question. “The therapy and the welfare checks with your vampire Dad.” Whether that was a dig or legitimate question, neither of them could really say.

“They did,” Alexis responds plainly, clasping her hands together in front of her with a perfunctory nod. “Thank you for asking.” Tank can see the tells of her trying to leave again and asks what really has been weighing on their mind.

“Why did you do it?” For the first time, Alexis looks Tank in the eyes, silver surprise coming face-to-face with rage still, yes, but also an expectant need to know.

“…does it matter what my reasons were?” She asks in a tone that could only be described as suspicious, casting her eyes down to the floor again. “I assume Sam told you what he thinks they were, and I’ve been told it’s important I let him tell his story and respect it.” Tank, in response, turns to the plush armchair behind them and sits down with the finality and resolve of a determined werewolf. The look they send her way has cowed many a lesser creature, and the Solaire heir is no exception, nodding again and finally closing the door behind her, leaning against it.

Hands behind her back, eyes on the ceiling, balanced in a stiff, nervous teeter on the sides of her feet, Alexis looks like a child waiting to be scolded, not the scourge of their revenge fantasies. Tank is glad they’re sitting, because the cognitive dissonance is a bitch.

“I turned Sam because I thought it was the right thing to do, because I didn’t want to repeat my mistakes.” Alexis meets their gaze, and Tank leans in, not because of a trance, but because of the expression there that could only be described as sincere regret and sorrow. They watch as she flinches and looks away, focusing on the passive face of the wall clock instead of the waiting werewolf in front of her.

“When Wonderworld happened, I was there… and I could have saved someone’s life. Will was taking care of Vincent, you know that story, but the person next to him was alive too. I could have done it, I could have saved them.” Alexis’ voice dips and breaks ever so slightly, and for a topsy-turvy, twisted second, Tank cannot help but think of how similar her drawl is to Sam’s. It’s the way the guilt sounds on their tongues; cloying, heady, and bittersweet, like sorrow is an aged liquor and they’re drowning in it.

“But I’d never turned anyone before,” she continues, biting at worried lips. “I didn’t think I was ready. And so many people were screaming and Will was rushing me and there was so much smoke and so much blood and so much noise and- And they died. Right in front of me while I was trying to get my bearings straight.” Alexis’ words tumble out with voracious speed, and it looks like she’s almost going to pitch forward with the way they rip out of her throat. Tank is worried for a singular moment that they might have to catch her, but Alexis maintains her rigid posture, arms caged around her torso.

“You would think, being immortal and all, that memories would fade. The brain holds onto the important things, lets go of the things that hurt you, protects you. That’s not the case when you’re a vampire, a powerful one half a century old.” Alexis shakes her head, and the gesture shades half her face with drapes of hair but can’t hide her shaking arms. “I remember so clearly, so vividly every sensation that I’ve experienced since I turned. I’ve never forgotten what that feels like, an innocent person dying because of my meltdown.”

“So when the accident happened, I was experiencing it all over again, the blood, the crashing, the screaming.” Alexis stops to breathe a moment. Tank takes that moment to consider the haunted look in her eyes and the foreign concept that Alexis may have suffered that night too.

“Sam doesn’t know it, but he was screaming, and he was dying. He said he could do it, he said he could heal himself, but I could feel his death coming.” Alexis’ hands rub up and down the sleeves of her blazer in a self-soothing gesture, and Tank wonders if she ever stopped feeling it. “I was losing him.”

“He was losing blood and magic and life with every second, and those were seconds that I was hesitating. There was someone in my arms again, bleeding out and in pain, so much pain, and he was going to die because I got overwhelmed except this time, it was going to be someone I l-“

The vampire clasps a tight, punishing hand over her lips, but the werewolf already heard the panicked whines rising up in her throat, saw the fanged grimace at the phantom memory of blood. They already felt the love she was trying to swallow back.

When Alexis speaks again, her voice is quiet, thoughtful, and composed. When she tucks her hands behind her back, Tank notices the dull bite marks gouged into the palm.

“I wonder everyday if he could have done it, if he could have pulled the threads to save his life… but at the time, that was a risk I wasn’t willing to take. I saw a selfish opportunity to do what I thought was right, to fix my mistake, and I took it.”

A rueful facsimile of a smile cracks on her face, an attempt at levity made of teeth, grit, and self-deprecation. Tank knows it well, sees that same, practiced expression in Shaw Pack pictures and the bathroom mirror.

“People say stupidity is making the same mistake twice and expecting a different result- Well, I say it takes a special kind of touched to fix your mistake and fuck it up even worse. My therapist tells me not to speak with that kind of language, so I just think it instead.”

Alexis searches for their eyes a third time, the silver shining brighter, like something behind has been lifted, like light is being reflected. When Tank looks back, she laughs. It’s awkward, clumsy, unrehearsed, and oddly beautiful, an astonishingly human gesture.

“I apologize for making you sit through all of that. I never know when to stop,” she rambles self-consciously. “Obviously it doesn’t change anything, an explanation is not a justification. I had no right, even if I thought I was doing right, and…” She pauses, breathes, takes a moment.

Then the proud, cruel Alexis, rumored hellion princess of the Solaire clan, squares her shoulders, neatly folds her hands in front of her, and offers them an apologetic bow.

“I hurt Sam and you and all the people who care about him. I feel that hurt and pain and hatred every day through the bond. I know there’s nothing I can do to make those things go away or get better, but I try to not make it worse.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Tank accuses, making the vampire straighten. They spring out of the chair to their feet and marvel when Alexis doesn’t even flinch at their hands twisting in their blouse. “All this time, over a decade, and you never thought to say this to Sam, to the person who deserves it? To the person you hurt?” Even being the same height, it takes little effort for Tank to lift the small woman off the ground, and Alexis doesn’t try to stop her, just clasps onto their arms with a timid, dithering grip.

“The last thing he ever asked of me, before the bloodlust took hold, was to never speak to him again,” Alexis says, voice choked either by the chokehold or emotion. “Disregarding his wishes to apologize for doing that exact thing wouldn’t have made a difference, would have been a step backward, would have just proved I didn’t learn my lesson.” Tank sets her back down on the ground and lets go, but Alexis holds on a touch longer, gently squeezing their wrists with trembling hands, a sinner pleading for a saint’s absolution.

“I made Sam a victim that night, subjected him to me and to this life that I chose for him. I hurt him, and my penance is feeling that hurt and knowing I caused it. It’s not enough, but nothing ever will be.” She lets go, and this time, they let her reach for the door and hold it open for them to leave. “Speaking of, I hear the man himself finishing up in the ballroom, and I’d best not add the sin of keeping you to my rap sheet.”

Tank steps out into the hallway oddly reminded of Mama Greer, childhood story times, and little heroes that had gone on an adventure through a wardrobe; they had gone exploring, found a wicked witch, and returned exactly the same but inexplicably different. The feeling of dreamy unreality only grows as the vampire tentatively brushes her fingertips against hers.

Tank had watched so many emotions play on the other’s features that night: fear, agony, sadness, and rage. They had seen how she wears regret and shyness and reticence and contrition. What will really stick with them in the days to come is the glowing, sweet look of Alexis’s gratitude as she points in Sam’s direction.

“It really was a pleasure to meet you, hon; you make him feel so much joy. Thank you.”

Thank you for reading 💖 I wrote all Alexis’s dialogue first, intending to record it like a script, and filled in everything around it while I recover from the flu. Hopefully it doesn’t read too awkwardly as a result.

Taglist: @gingerbreadmonsters thank you for reading the excerpt and anticipating it 💜

[cassierobinsons]

it's no worries! i'm delighted you're answering my asks at all lmao. i really think you and i are on the same wavelength about this show, you're really cool, and you have really good and thoughtful takes.

i blocked that kitsune episode from my memory ugh. it really shouldn't have been a surprise what dabb ended up doing to billie even when she was his character considering how consistently racism creeps into his work.

i'm very sorry you're having to experience season 9, you're very brave to not just skip it. 10 i think is slightly better mainly because it introduces rowena who's a lot of fun and gets some depth as the show goes on (being a hot milf witch also helps a lot) but also mark of cain is not a good time. 12 is a trainwreck in terms of like. watching it as a form of television but the dean and mary scenes hit super hard and feel like they belong on an earlier season that would give them a real resolution.

"like i do not like s8 sam at all but at least there was something going on there! he was a hayes code homophobe and had the haircut of a premade sim but it was something!"

he was soooooo wack about benny lmao. i think it was meant to be portrayed as him projecting his own experiences with ruby but benny literally never did anything wrong so it just made sam look like a dick. which i prefer, i think sam being initially weird about dean being bi as something he never considered is more IC than ex-gsa member sam.

very much agreed on gamble-genuinely interesting ideas but not great execution. i can't think about what happened with lisa without wanting to bite. maybe it's for the best he wasn't paired with cassie instead post swan song because i can't imagine the awful shit they'd pull with her.

(following on from this ask THIS CHAIN IS GETTING LONG LMFAO)

aw thanks anon 😊 i'm enjoying the chance to longform chat about this terrible show.

dabb's racism is easily his worst quality. he's a dean anti and his writing is often mean-spirited but WOW does his racism dwarf everything else.

i've been stuck on s9 since early december and plan on going back to it once i've made some progress catching up on the shows i'm watching rn (namely search party s5, the expanse s5, hacks, AND yellowjackets) so like. realistically i'm not going back until feb lmfao. even then i don't give a shit about the plot rn so i'll only watch eps for cas or when minor characters pop up. i've said this before but the decision to kill kevin off reaaaally weighs on me as being spn's nadir, a real No Melanin Allowed moment. jeremy carver can meet me in the pit, idgaf.

yeah the mark of cain plotline sounds so 😒 and i know what i'm about to say sounds WILD considering the last 3-4 days of dean apologism but ultimately. i am a casgirl who loves dean but not a deangirl so while i love s4 dean's noxious era the prospect of a season and a half of it bores me to tears. toxicity? from a man? groundbreaking. i am looking forward to meeting rowena though. she sounds so cool as a character it's genuinely baffling that a show like spn came up with her.

12 is a trainwreck in terms of like. watching it as a form of television but the dean and mary scenes hit super hard and feel like they belong on an earlier season that would give them a real resolution.

there are a plethora of moments i hear about in the later seasons have me like. damn. this would've been Masterpiece Theatre if it happened 5 years earlier. still, i'm looking forward to watching some of the motws in s12. regarding dean will probably revive brainworms that have lain dormant since my s1-2 deangirl days.

sam was so fucking terrible about benny jdsfdjkfjs and i get that they were trying to parallel it with ruby and especially amy but man. the whole point of the slice girls is that sam killing emma is meant to cancel out the amy thing like pemdas. and it's an evil and wrong point! but it's a point. so having sam get pissy over benny makes him look so bad because bro you literally put a bullet in his daughter, you DO NOT get to be precious about this. but it does lend credence to my personal theory that it's hard for sam to draw from his supposedly deep well of empathy for other supernatural creatures if he cannot directly project his issues onto them 🤭

i've posted briefly about the queer subtext in citizen fang (bonus commentary by @softbrah) and yeah, it is strong evidence that sam has no fucking clue dean desires men carnally. in the secret good s9 that exists in my head dean & human!cas start fucking after like 3 weeks in the bunker and sam is sent into a tailspin.

the lisa&ben thing was gamble being at a 10 when she should've been at a 2. or like a 6 tops. you can tragically bury dean's dreams of being a dad without having him do this horrible thing to his exgf and her son i promise! you don't have to make a writing choice this evil! makes me extremely glad that he didn't go to cassie in canon because gamble handling a black female character is the stuff of nightmares. i do want more deancassie in fic though, stat!

[authoressskr]

Ruby Dragon Surprise (i)

Characters: f!Reader, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, Mercy (*previously Y/N in Bucky’s Dragon Soulmate Story*), mentions of Peggy Carter

Warnings: Language and no Beta   ::    Notes: This particular story will probably be three parts, cause Steve is emotionally constipated   ::   Word Count: 4849

I went with a dragon!soulmate!au, which I hadn’t seen before, but I did have a nifty dream about it that spawned this whole idea. He’s still an Avenger. Events are basically still the same (not exactly the same...people are alive who died in the mcu), just with dragons. ‘Cause who wouldn’t love a dragon companion?? This will be an ongoing series with different Avengers finding their soulmates with their dragons.

Howlite and Hearts (Bucky)

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

Since men emerged from caves, began using tools and reshaping their environment, they have been intrigued by the draconian terrors of all shapes and sizes that roamed the world. The first records of man and dragon working together are from Mesopotamia, pieces of shattered pottery pieced back together showing a dragon standing beside a woman. Assyrian artifacts depict water dragons helping farmers in the field. Egyptian murals show dragons protecting the Pharaoh and his family, others showing different breeds of dragon fetching books from inside the Library of Alexandria.

History is dotted with famous dragons and their bonded humans; King Arthur and his steel-colored dragon, Excalibur. William Shakespeare and his dragon, Bard. Cleopatra and Bucephalus, named after Alexander the Great’s legendary steed. Abraham Lincoln and his dragon, Crusoe.

Over the centuries, dragons have become smaller from the giants painted in mythology, old texts and wall murals. The biggest dragon these days are about the size of a large crocodile, with the biggest recorded in the last decade almost as big as a hippo. Height varies on the type of dragon - with the tallest one balancing on its tail, hits almost eye level with a giraffe.

Classes have been taught for centuries about dragons and the bond between them with humans. Dragons will sometimes die right after their human counterpart and vice versa. Dragons who have lost their counterpart will sometimes live, seeking out their counterpart’s soulmate to stay with their draconian mates as well. It is not an uncommon thing - especially after times of war - for soulmates to have both dragons if one has died.

Dragon pairs will usually have the same colors and markings, even though they will often not be the same type of dragon. Dragons may look similar to the human eye, but a dragon will know it’s mate no matter what. It has not been determined how the dragons know their mate almost instantaneously, but after millennia humans have begun to follow the dragon counterpart’s knowledge in this area. Marriages of alliance and royalty have often been changed or dropped when one party finds its soulmate. In the same vein, marriages have also been arranged due to this circumstance as well. Cinderella is the most referenced fairy tale of this, with Cinderella having the same sapphire and gold colored dragon as the prince (*Dragon color varies by region and culture).

Soulmate bonds are some of the strongest bonds in our world. Both between a dragon pair and between a human pair. And on the flip side of the Cinderella story, dragons will attempt to push their human partners together if the human counterpart doesn’t seem interested or could result in a rejection.

On the same page, a rejection of this bond - always by the human partner - can have devastating consequences. This broken or unformed bond may result in: at first, flu-like symptoms but can build up to more serious symptoms such as feeling weak or run down, tremors and/or tics, varying weight loss, chest pains and even very mild seizures have been documented. Usually the bond is mended or solidified before it comes to these more serious issues. There are also historic rumors of deaths from broken hearts due to rejections, which has yet to be scientifically proven. The aforementioned symptoms may require hospitalization.

To date no dragon has succumbed to any symptoms from their human counterparts due to the rejection of the bond, which dragon experts seem truly puzzled by due to the strong bonds that can be formed between a human and a dragon. Rejections, however, are rare and scientists aren’t yet sure of all possible symptoms associated with a rejection of a bond. Touch, however, is shown to remedy these symptoms in trials and is known to be a powerful connector between a human and it’s dragon partner as well.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

If there was one thing Steve Rogers knew, it was that Peggy Carter was his soulmate.

He’ll admit he doesn’t think of it as often as when he came out of the ice, but he does still think about it - about Peggy - every few days. More so when Bucky, Sam and himself are out for lunch or when he and Wanda may be grabbing some coffee, because that is when he sees soulmates together. 

The way soulmates look at each other is different. Like they don’t just see the person before them, but everything they are and could be; all rolled into everything they love.

And he’s envious of that look.

He knows he hasn’t received it. And he truly believes he hasn’t given it either. Sometimes he chalks it up to not being actual bonded soulmates with Peggy. Because he knows that the love that was blossoming would have turned into that loving, enraptured gaze he always longed for.

It’s the thought that gets interrupted when his cell rings on the way back from their morning run. He quickly switches his coffee cup to his other hand to fish the phone from his pant pocket, revealing Tony’s face on the screen.

“Hey, Tony.”

“Need you, the bird and the metal popsicle back here asap. Got a hit on a Hydra offshoot. Wheels up in 30.”

“Got it. We’re just a few blocks from the Tower now.”

“Pick up the pace then, old man,” And the call ends. He looks at Sam and Bucky before tossing back what’s left of his coffee and throwing it in a nearby trash can.

“Mission. Wheels go up in 30.” Sam sighs at his words.

“Morning calls are rare, man. Must be big.”

“Hydra,” Bucky mutters with a shake of his head before polishing off his own coffee. “Come on. Gonna take most of that time to get the scalies ready.”

“You know,” Sam mutters with a smug grin as they all continue towards the Tower, “You’ve picked up your soulmate’s habit of calling the dragons weird names.” Sam tosses his empty cup and dodges a swat from Bucky.

“Jealousy is an ugly, ugly thing Sam…”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx::

Steve shifts in his place in the rafters, Rak wiggling on his back in response to peer over his shoulder down at the HYDRA agents. He nods at Bucky, who is perched across the building, just above the exit.

“Where’d you find this one?”

“Get this - a museum.” The blonde HYDRA agent cackles, leaving the brunet nodding, a serious look on his face. A loud clang of the door reveals two more HYDRA agents, dragging another person between them while a third agent follows behind with a tactical machine gun held tightly in his grip. If body shape is anything to go on, it’s a woman. A curvy and buxom one. Bucky quickly types out an update in Morse code to Natasha who is stationed outside with Sam and Tony as the brunet drags a heavy wooden chair into the middle of the room.

They toss the captive into the chair, zip tying their wrists behind them before pulling off the thick bag from their head. If looks could kill…

“Now, Miss, we are going to ask you a series of questions -”

“Fuck. Off.” Steve’s eyebrows shoot up at the venom in her tone.

“You don’t seem to know who we are.” Her jaw clenches as she looks away from the salt and pepper haired man who dragged her in. “Come now. I don’t want to injure you more than necessary…”

“Right.” She snaps, looking down at her lap with a sigh. The tall brunet who helped drag her in shifts to stand behind her, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking her head back. Her gasp makes Rak hiss in his ear, Steve feeling his claw tips through his suit. He tilts his head to rub it against Rak’s, offering that silent comfort to calm him down.

“Now, Miss, the first question is: You work in the nearby museum, correct?”

“Seeing as that’s where you took me from…” She gasps again as the hand tightens in her hair, bending her head back a little more. That’s when she notices Bucky in the rafters - quickly closing her eyes and sniffles loudly.

“What are you working on there?”

“Paleontology mostly. But when I started there I worked in the geology department. I’m a floater between departments since I don’t have my full degree yet.” The man relaxes his grip a little, pushing her head forward towards its normal position again.

“Rocks and bones.” The older agent chuckles before rubbing his hand over his graying beard. “Do you do anything else in the museum?”

“I assist only in the two departments. The only reason I help the geology is when the woman who regularly helps is gone cause she’s having a rough pregnancy.”

“Now we know that’s a lie. You spend a lot of time in the accounting office.” Her head is pulled back again so she’s looking at the ceiling again.

“I’m not sure you lot are aware that each department has a budget. I have to submit forms every month about the spending. Plus, one of the accountants is my friend.”

“So you are saying our intel is wrong?”

“Look, I’d like my head to stay attached, but yes, your intel is shit. Probably someone just looking not to be in the position I’m currently in.”

“So the museum isn’t looking into the dragons ancestors?”

“If they are, then I don’t know about it. I’m a peon!” She yanks her head from the man’s grasp and struggles in the chair.

“Little cherub, you are a terrible liar.”

“Listen asshat, I am keenly aware I’m a terrible liar. So I tend NOT to lie. Especially to someone who has tied me to a chair and has a fucking gun!!” He sighs, giving a little shake of his head before his hand shoots out and backhands her, making her head snap to the left. Rak’s claws pierce through his suit, smoke curling from his nostrils making Steve tense under him even more. He holds his hand up in a stopping motion, Bucky cocking his head slightly before Steve gestures over his shoulder at Rak.

“Woman, HYDRA has been looking for you for awhile.”

“Seems like a waste of time to me. I can’t have anything HYDRA could possibly want. Except maybe morals.”

“We don’t need morals in HYDRA.” The blonde grunts out from his leaning place against the wall.

“I’m aware. Ya ever think that’s why SHIELD and the Avengers whip your ass? Resign you to the shadows like the phantoms you are.” There is a loud enough explosion that everyone turns towards the exit, the men all tensing. “AND YOU KNOW WHAT? YOUR SIGIL OR WHATEVER IT IS MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING SENSE! HYDRA MEANS 5! WHY DOES YOUR SYMBOL HAVE 8? AND DO YOU ALL KNOW THAT THE HYDRA WAS DEFEATED???” Her head is sent sharply to the left again, blood trickling from her lip at the contact.

“WHO FOLLOWED YOU?!” The older agent snaps at the blonde and brunet who they saw first.

“NO ONE, SIR!” Bucky drops down just as Tony comes through the back exit, making Steve shimmy upright before he begins across the beams in the rafters to cut off their retreat.

He drops down with a dull thud, blocking the HYDRA agents as planned but the brunet with the machine gun has it pointed under the woman’s jaw.

“She’s not so sassy now,” The man in charge smirks out, stroking a finger down her cheek. He glances behind, seeing Bucky, Tony and Natasha behind him.

“You know, nasty little fellows such as yourself always get their comeuppance.” Her words loud and clear as her gaze slides towards the older agent, the muzzle of the gun digging harder into her skin at her words.

“Snarky little bitch, isn’t she?”

“I like snark,” Tony mentions, looking to Natasha who just rolls her eyes. “But that’s because I’m just so good at it.”

“Release the girl, unharmed, and we’ll take you alive.” Steve offers, Rak’s nails digging into his shoulder once more as smoke begins to curl out of his nose again.

“How about no?” The agent whom had been silent this entire time speaks with a sneer, his little blue dragon’s head popping from a pocket in his utility pants.

Bucky lets loose a single round to the knee of the agent with the sub machine gun, making him buckle and the gun drop from his grip. That’s when Tony blasts the salt and pepper haired man past Steve as Natasha cuts the woman free, only for the woman to rush past Steve and the other agents deeper into the warehouse. Rak jumps from his shoulder and flys after her, prompting Steve to sigh as Bucky runs past, following after her and Rak.

“Does she realize the exit is the other way?!” Tony yells through the comms, taking a stance by where he’d entered to fend off dozens of incoming HYDRA. Two men run towards Steve only to stutter to the ground as electricity surges through their bodies.

“Thanks Nat.” He grunts before rushing through the doorway to find his best friend, his dragon and the directionally impaired woman.

:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx:::

You’re trying desperately to remember the turns they’ve dragged you through, looking for the spot where they had separated the two of you and tossed a bag over your head. A man moves to grab you, only to be attacked by an aggressive ruby dragon. It then scrabbles up your legs and perches itself on your shoulder, urging you on with a little grunt. You tread a little more carefully after that, but no less urgent, a scream clogging your throat as someone grabs your shoulder from behind before slipping a hand over your mouth. 

“Don’t scream.” You nod as the former Winter Soldier comes into view. “You know, the easy exit was the other way.”

“I’m aware. But they tossed my dragon in a big plastic looking box then I got the bag and drag treatment.”

“This warehouse has two floors in the front half, did they take you upstairs at all?” A shake of your head is all you can manage before the dragon flits from your shoulder and begins running down the hallway. “I guess we follow Rak then. You stay behind me and if I tell you to do something -”

“Consider it done.” You agree before gently pushing at his arm to get him moving.

Rak doesn’t stop until he’s about two hallways off where you all stopped, hissing and sending several fiery breaths towards the small side dock where HYDRA agents were loading up your dragon.

“Velma!” Her answering screech is enough to get you moving, Sgt. Barnes hand shooting out to keep you behind him. He’s got two of them shot and Rak is mauling another when you see a silver blur knock out the other two. It’s only when you turn to your right do you see Captain America snatch his shield, holding it for a beat before turning to look at you. If looks could lecture...you’d be in for a loooong one.

But as he gives you that look all you can think of is that now all the douche HYDRA agents are now k-o’ed, so you rush over to the giant box, sticking your fingers through the big air holes to stroke at her muzzle, Rak chirping at Sgt. Barnes, who steps around your crouched form and snaps the two heavy duty locks off with his metal hand. Your dragon bursts from the cage and tackles you, curling herself around your chest and neck as best she can as you coo reassurances to her.

“We gotta go,” Steve takes hold of your elbow, helping you up as you heft Velma off the ground, her wings wrapping securely around you as you follow Captain America back the way you came. Rak is riding on his shoulder and moving his ruby head back and forth between you and the hallway ahead. The Black Widow joins you halfway back and takes point, an emerald green dragon with beautiful iridescent wings in shades of purples, blacks, greens and a few splashes of a pale yellow shimmer brightly even in the dim lights of the warehouse hallway. You let out a soft grunt, hefting Velma a little higher as your arms start to tire. “Almost there. I can carry her, if you like?” He doesn’t look at you when he offers, simply continues looking forward at his measured pace beside you.

“I can manage,” Your pride answers before your tired arms can get a word in, a smile twitching at his lips at your answer, which just makes your pride suddenly all the more determined to do it yourself. He moves forward when you all get back to where the attack began, Natasha taking his place before Falcon glides in through the hole in the wall.

“It’s all secure to the jet,” He reports as he lands. “Tony is circling the outer gates to make sure they don’t have anything else - hostages or weapons.”

“Alright. Let’s get her on the jet. We’ll look her over and call into the compound for the doctor to be ready when we arrive.”

“Already done,” Natasha confirms and they all move in a protective box around you and Velma, Falcon now on your right and Natasha on your left as the good Captain takes the lead and the Sergeant keeps his place in the rear.

You’re herded - there is no other way to put it really - onto this very expensive, military-looking, and slightly futuristic jet. Falcon gestures to a seat and you kneel in front of it, carefully dislodging your draconian partner before taking the seat. Her scaled head nudges your open hand, reminding you that you’ve both made it.

Safe echoes in your mind and you nod, meeting her light amethyst eyes.

Safe, you reply as she climbs awkwardly into the seat beside yours, laying her head on your thigh.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“Baby,” She coos to the dragon, a shiver going up his spine at the softness and care in her tone, her hand sliding easily over it’s red scales as Sam returns to her side with a first aid kit.

“They do anything else besides these?” Sam asks gently, his finger brushing softly over her cheek where it’s already beginning to swell. A shake of her head is all she manages, “Okay, I’m gonna clean it with an alcohol pad.” Sam swipes it across her cheek and around the left side of her mouth to get off the dried blood. When he dabs just under her lip she hisses and so does Rak, her own dragon tensing up and curling it’s upper lip just enough to flash the tips of its teeth.

“Down, kids,” She mumbles out before Tony struts onto the jet.

“All clear. Let’s go home.” Tony sits beside her as the jet begins to ascend, both men’s gazes dropping to her free hand which is gripping the edge of her seat. “I’m Tony.”

“Y/N.”

“Dragon?”

“Velma.”

“Velma,” Tony repeats with a chuckle. “I like it. Suits you both. This is Jericho.”

“‘By faith the walls of Jericho fell’…is that right?”

“Exactly! ‘See, I have delivered Jericho into your hands’. My mother insisted that I know the Bible. I just liked the idea of marching and horns defeating a strong enemy. No bullets, no bombs; just faith.”

“Kind of goes against the initial sort of images of yourself, huh?” Tony leans in slightly, a grin flirting on his lips.

“Have you been talking to my wife?” She leans in too, their foreheads nearly touching.

“I think I’d remember talking to her.”

“She is very memorable.” He agrees, leaning back in the seat before waving his finger at her chest. “Buckle up. We should be there in about twenty or thirty.”

“Do you need anything?” Steve asks, Bucky’s eye popping open from his resting place in the corner and a tiny twitch of his lips making him want to glare at his best friend.

“No, thank you.” Steve nods, moving to the front to talk to Natasha when Rak flits to the floor and scurries over to her, his head tilted to one side with his begging eyes on. Steve moves to turn back to stop Rak from bothering her. “Get up here then,” A smile dancing in her eyes as he chirps happily, leaping easily into her lap and shaking his wings out before carefully settling down, his snout resting beside Velma’s.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You’re just nodding off when the jet lands, carefully tapping Velma and then Rak to wake them before stretching, wincing at the soreness in your face and neck.

Steve walks by you as the bay door opens before he whistles, Rak’s head perking up from the seat beside you, but he doesn’t move. This doesn’t seem to sit well with Steve, who glares at his partner like he’s betrayed him.

The dragon begrudgingly jumps down and stands at the Captain’s feet, an outstretched hand drawing you from the curiosity you felt watching Rak and Steve. You’re met with storm blue eyes and a small, easy smile.

“Come on, kid,” Unclicking from your seat, you accept his hand with a hushed thank you. You are hardly off the jet before a white marble blur nearly takes James down, his laughter ringing out before a woman appears just after, helping him up and the two of them disappearing into the building. You’re caught at a crossroads of sorts...Do you follow? Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?

“Are you Y/N?” You’re startled from your thoughts by a woman with thick black hair piled atop her head in a white lab coat.

“Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Hale. Natasha and Tony told us to be expecting you.” She gestures you forward, opposite to where the Avengers disappeared to. You follow obediently, with Velma trailing behind you, also looking to where they’d all gone. “Do you have any medical conditions we should be aware of?”

“No.”

“High blood pressure?”

“No, but if it’s high I was just taken hostage and then backhanded twice before having a gun shoved against my jaw while they tried to take my dragon.” She makes a face, eyebrows raised and fighting back a smile before she manages a big nod.

“Understandable...well let’s check all that. Was your dragon injured?”

“I ran my hands over all of her and she’s not injured that I can tell.” You look down at her, purple eyes alight. “You hurt, baby?” Velma shakes her head, her tail twitching slightly when she does so.

“Perfect. We’ll just check you over and then Tony should come get you.” All you can do is nod, following her into a very white and metallic exam room.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Steve’s voice can be heard through the door of his room, he’s sure of it.

Rak has snapped at him twice so far and nearly set his comforter on fire because he ordered him to stay put while he showered. Steve knew where he would wander off to and he told Rak he needs to let the doctor do their job and check them over. He had angrily settled down when Howl had come into the room, the bigger dragon tossing himself down onto Rak’s bed - successfully luring Rak to him and calming the little spitfire down long enough for Steve to get a shower.

Once he was out of the shower, Rak started up again, a stare off ensuing between the two of them while Howl looked on in amusement.

“I said no!” Steve snaps at the wyvern before clenching his jaw so tight he’s sure he hears a pop. Rak opens his mouth, flashing all his teeth only to snap it closed when Bucky’s soulmate sticks her head in.

“Sorry. I knocked, but you must not have heard...I was just looking for Howl.” Howl’s whole body shakes as he wiggles his way happily to her. “Tony just went to get the woman from the infirmary, just to let you know.” Steve scowls at her as Rak begins to follow Howl out the door.

“Hey! Best behavior. And you need to cut the whole hissing, snapping and fire at me, you little gas ball.” Rak snorts, almost giving an eye roll as Steve blocks the door. “Shoulder.” He points for emphasis, his partner huffing as he slowly climbs up onto his shoulder. “And stay there, do you understand?” He turns his ruby head away and Steve’s mind wanders to the impossible...but he quickly shakes that thought from his head.

When she enters the room with her dragon, her cheek and lip swollen a little more than an hour ago when he’d seen her.

Wanda gasps as she enters the room, looking from Rak to Velma, Rak doing the exact fucking opposite as he was told - flinging himself from Steve’s shoulder and running towards you and Velma - before giving a little squeal.

“I’ve never seen a dragon soulmate pair meeting!” Steve looks in confusion from the dragons to Wanda and then to the woman, the room now deadly silent except for the soft, contented growls coming from the pair of ruby dragons curled around each other at Y/N’s feet.

“What - no, that’s not - that’s not possible.” Steve snorts in disbelief after he manages his oh-so eloquent words. “No. She’s not my soulmate,” The words tumble from his lips before he has a chance to really think the situation over but his eyes still see everything.

They see the hope that was blossoming in her soft eyes and they see the confusion flash through those pretty eyes before the hurt makes the light die out in them, her eyes dropping to the floor quickly.

He opens his mouth to refute his own words - to apologize and take it back - when he sees Bucky glaring at him.

After all, hadn’t it been him who had told Bucky to go after his dragon and his soulmate? Who had told Bucky he’d give anything to be in his shoes? And now that he was, he had just rejected his soulmate.

You could hear a pin drop as he stands there gaping like a fish before managing to firmly close his mouth.

She’s staring at their dragons, snouts pressed along side each other with their wings touching, tails twined together before she looks up and blinks rapidly. He knows she’s willing the tears away and it physically hurts him to see her avert her eyes.

Clint steps forward, whispering in her ear before offering her his arm. Clint takes her past him, both of their dragons trailing eagerly after her and both blatantly ignoring his very existence.

“All clear boss,” comes a familiar accented voice, Steve can feel all of his family’s eyes boring into him before Natasha speaks up.

“What the actual hell, you dumbass?”

“My sentiments exactly.” Tony pipes up from behind her.

“Didn’t you say you wish you were in my shoes?” Sam just harrumphs at Bucky’s words from where he’s sitting on the couch by Bucky and his soulmate.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” Wanda mutters among the other comments, worrying her bottom lip.

“It’s not your fault, Wanda,” Mercy soothes from the couch, hand gently squeezing Bucky’s as her dragon Cloud moves from her shoulder to Bucky’s, sensing his tenseness.

“Clint’s giving her a tour. She’ll be staying here until we can find out specifically why Hydra was after her. That should give you enough time to pull your head out of your ass,” Tony states while shoving his long sleeves up a bit on his forearms, hitting Steve with a “Sweet Jesus” side eye that Steve was all too well acquainted with.

“It just came out!”

“Like diarrhea…” Pietro says loudly from the kitchen, tossing a handful of grapes into his mouth. Steve glares at the male Maximoff, whom he literally didn’t even realize was in the damn kitchen.

“Again, it just came out. I didn’t even think about what I said!”

“That is abundantly clear,” Howl crawls into Bucky’s lap at his words, big eyes pleading to his human dad for pets to calm them both down, tail twacking Mercy who just rolls her eyes playfully at his needy and loving response to Bucky’s mood. Bucky smiling oh so softly at Howl and Mercy, as he strokes the oversized dragon taking up his lap.

Steve watches that and he aches for it. Those knowing looks to share with his soulmate.

But Peggy is gone.

And he doesn’t know where to go from here with this woman. Or the fact that Rak is completely convinced that Velma is his mate.

Because he is pretty sure she isn’t.

‘Pretty sure’ isn’t going to cut it for everyone else though. It definitely won’t be enough for Rak, that little gas ball of betrayal.

Steve was well and truly fucked.

Tagging:  @moonbeambucky @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr

[timeless-hollywood-classics]

Rose Joan Blondell (August 30, 1906 – December 25, 1979) was an American actress who performed in film and television for half a century.

She began her career in vaudeville. After winning a beauty pageant, Blondell embarked upon a film career. She established herself as a Pre-Code staple of Warner Bros. Pictures in wisecracking, sexy roles, and appeared in more than 100 films and television productions. She was most active in film during the 1930s and early 1940s, and during that time she co-starred with Glenda Farrell in nine films, in which the duo portrayed gold diggers. Blondell continued acting on film and television for the rest of her life, often in small, supporting roles. She was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for her performance in The Blue Veil (1951).

Near the end of her life, Blondell was nominated for a Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actress for her performance in Opening Night (1977). She was featured in two more films, the blockbuster musical Grease (1978) and Franco Zeffirelli's The Champ (1979), which was released shortly before Blondell's death from leukemia.

Rose Joan Blondell was born in New York to a vaudeville family; she gave her birthdate as August 30, 1909. Her father, Levi Bluestein, a vaudeville comedian known as Ed Blondell, was born in Poland to a Jewish family in 1866. He toured for many years starring in Blondell and Fennessy's stage version of The Katzenjammer Kids. Blondell's mother was Catherine (known as "Kathryn" or "Katie") Caine, born in Brooklyn, Kings County, New York (later Brooklyn, New York City) on April 13, 1884, to Irish-American parents. Joan's younger sister, Gloria Blondell, also an actress, was briefly married to film producer Albert R. Broccoli. The Blondell sisters had a brother, Ed Blondell, Jr.

Joan's cradle was a property trunk as her parents moved from place to place. She made her first appearance on stage at the age of four months when she was carried on in a cradle as the daughter of Peggy Astaire in The Greatest Love. Her family comprised a vaudeville troupe, the "Bouncing Blondells".

Joan had spent a year in Honolulu (1914–15) and six years in Australia and had seen much of the world by the time her family, who had been on tour, settled in Dallas, Texas, when she was a teenager. Under the name Rosebud Blondell, she won the 1926 Miss Dallas pageant, was a finalist in an early version of the Miss Universe pageant in May 1926, and placed fourth for Miss America 1926 in Atlantic City, New Jersey, in September of that same year. She attended Santa Monica High School, where she acted in school plays and worked as an editor on the yearbook staff. While there (and after high school), she gave her name as Rosebud Blondell, such as when she attended North Texas State Teacher’s College (1926–1927), now the University of North Texas in Denton, where her mother was a local stage actress.

Around 1927, she returned to New York, worked as a fashion model, a circus hand, a clerk in a store, joined a stock company to become an actress, and performed on Broadway. In 1930, she starred with James Cagney in Penny Arcade on Broadway. Penny Arcade lasted only three weeks, but Al Jolson saw it and bought the rights to the play for $20,000. He then sold the rights to Warner Bros., with the proviso that Blondell and Cagney be cast in the film version, named Sinners' Holiday (1930). Placed under contract by Warner Bros., she moved to Hollywood, where studio boss Jack L. Warner wanted her to change her name to "Inez Holmes", 34 but Blondell refused. She began to appear in short subjects and was named as one of the WAMPAS Baby Stars in 1931.

Blondell was paired several more times with James Cagney in films, including The Public Enemy (1931), and she was one-half of a gold-digging duo with Glenda Farrell in nine films. During the Great Depression, Blondell was one of the highest-paid individuals in the United States. Her stirring rendition of "Remember My Forgotten Man" in the Busby Berkeley production of Gold Diggers of 1933, in which she co-starred with Dick Powell and Ruby Keeler, became an anthem for the frustrations of unemployed people and the government's failed economic policies. In 1937, she starred opposite Errol Flynn in The Perfect Specimen. By the end of the decade, she had made nearly 50 films. She left Warner Bros. in 1939.

In 1943, Blondell returned to Broadway as the star of Mike Todd's short-lived production of The Naked Genius, a comedy written by Gypsy Rose Lee. She was well received in her later films, despite being relegated to character and supporting roles after 1945, when she was billed below the title for the first time in 14 years in Adventure, which starred Clark Gable and Greer Garson. She was also featured prominently in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1945) and Nightmare Alley (1947). In 1948, she left the screen for three years and concentrated on theater, performing in summer stock and touring with Cole Porter's musical, Something for the Boys. She later reprised her role of Aunt Sissy in the musical version of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn for the national tour and played the nagging mother, Mae Peterson, in the national tour of Bye Bye Birdie.

Blondell returned to Hollywood in 1950. Her performance in her next film, The Blue Veil (1951), earned her an Academy Award nomination for Best Actress in a Supporting Role. She played supporting roles in The Opposite Sex (1956), Desk Set (1957), and Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? (1957). She received considerable acclaim for her performance as Lady Fingers in Norman Jewison's The Cincinnati Kid (1965), garnering a Golden Globe nomination and National Board of Review win for Best Supporting Actress. John Cassavetes cast her as a cynical, aging playwright in his film Opening Night (1977). Blondell was widely seen in two films released not long before her death – Grease (1978), and the remake of The Champ (1979) with Jon Voight and Rick Schroder. She also appeared in two films released after her death – The Glove (1979), and The Woman Inside (1981).

Blondell also guest-starred in various television programs, including three 1963 episodes as the character Aunt Win in the CBS sitcom The Real McCoys, starring Walter Brennan and Richard Crenna.

Also in 1963, Blondell was cast as the widowed Lucy Tutaine in the episode, "The Train and Lucy Tutaine", on the syndicated anthology series, Death Valley Days, hosted by Stanley Andrews. In the story line, Lucy sues a railroad company, against great odds, for causing the death of her cow. Noah Beery Jr., was cast as Abel.

In 1964, she appeared in the episode "What's in the Box?" of The Twilight Zone. She guest-starred in the episode "You're All Right, Ivy" on Jack Palance's circus drama, The Greatest Show on Earth, which aired on ABC in the 1963–64 television season. Her co-stars in the segment were Joe E. Brown and Buster Keaton. In 1965, she was in the running to replace Vivian Vance as Lucille Ball's sidekick on the hit CBS television comedy series The Lucy Show. Unfortunately, after filming her second guest appearance as Joan Brenner (Lucy's new friend from California), Blondell walked off the set right after the episode had completed filming when Ball humiliated her by harshly criticizing her performance in front of the studio audience and technicians.

Blondell continued working on television. In 1968, she guest-starred on the CBS sitcom Family Affair, starring Brian Keith. She replaced Bea Benaderet, who was ill, for one episode on the CBS series Petticoat Junction. In that installment, Blondell played FloraBelle Campbell, a lady visitor to Hooterville, who had once dated Uncle Joe (Edgar Buchanan) and Sam Drucker (Frank Cady). That same year, Blondell co-starred in all 52 episodes of the ABC Western series Here Come the Brides, set in the Pacific Northwest of the 19th century. Her co-stars included singer Bobby Sherman and actor-singer David Soul. Blondell received two consecutive Emmy nominations for outstanding continued performance by an actress in a dramatic series for her role as Lottie Hatfield.

In 1971, she followed Sada Thompson in the off-Broadway hit The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds, with a young Swoosie Kurtz playing one of her daughters.

In 1972, she had an ongoing supporting role in the NBC series Banyon as Peggy Revere, who operated a secretarial school in the same building as Banyon's detective agency. This was a 1930s period action drama starring Robert Forster in the title role. Her students worked in Banyon's office, providing fresh faces for the show weekly. The series was replaced midseason.

Blondell has a motion pictures star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame for her contributions to the film industry. Her star is located at 6311 Hollywood Boulevard. In December 2007, the Museum of Modern Art in New York City mounted a retrospective of Blondell's films in connection with a new biography by film professor Matthew Kennedy, and theatrical revival houses such as Film Forum in Manhattan have also projected many of her films recently.

She wrote a novel titled Center Door Fancy (New York: Delacorte Press, 1972), which was a thinly disguised autobiography with veiled references to June Allyson and Dick Powell.

Blondell was married three times, first to cinematographer George Barnes in a private wedding ceremony on January 4, 1933, at the First Presbyterian Church in Phoenix, Arizona. They had one child, Norman Scott Barnes, who became an accomplished producer, director, and television executive known as Norman Powell. Joan and George divorced in 1936.

On September 19, 1936, she married her second husband Dick Powell, an actor, director, and singer. They had a daughter, Ellen Powell, who became a studio hair stylist, and Powell adopted her son by her previous marriage under the name Norman Scott Powell. Blondell and Powell were divorced on July 14, 1944. Blondell was less than friendly with Powell's next wife, June Allyson, although the two women would later appear together in The Opposite Sex (1956).

On July 5, 1947, Blondell married her third husband, producer Mike Todd, whom she divorced in 1950. Her marriage to Todd was an emotional and financial disaster. She once accused him of holding her outside a hotel window by her ankles. He was also a heavy spender who lost hundreds of thousands of dollars gambling (high-stakes bridge was one of his weaknesses) and went through a controversial bankruptcy during their marriage. An often-repeated myth is that Mike Todd left Blondell for Elizabeth Taylor, when in fact, she had left Todd of her own accord years before he met Taylor.

Blondell died of leukemia in Santa Monica, California, on Christmas Day, 1979, with her children and her sister at her bedside. She was cremated and her ashes interred in a columbarium at the Forest Lawn Memorial Park Cemetery in Glendale, California.

[darks-ink]

Ectober Week day 4: Corruption (AO3)(FFN)

Content warning: Major character death (implied), descriptions of the destruction of (animal) ghosts

No one has the power to change the past, only to delay the inevitable. Danny never realized until it was too late.

It was such a slow, gradual change that Danny still doesn't know where it went wrong. Even if he was given another chance, another shot at redemption, he wouldn't know what to change. Last time it was so easy, an obvious mistake with awful consequences, but this time there was no clear turning point.

It started so long ago, although he isn’t sure when, exactly, that was. He likes to think that it was somewhere soon after defeating his evil future self, but he thinks it had started even before that.

At first it was so innocent, almost impossible to tell apart from his normal thoughts. Quiet suggestions that he should defend himself from Dash, that he should fight back, not for himself, but for all of Dash’s victims.

He could see the justice in this, and he listened. The next time Dash attacked him, Danny fought him off. The nerds had celebrated him, and while Sam didn’t approve, Tucker was more than understanding.

When Dash tried again, Danny simply fought back even harder. And the next time, he hit even harder. By the time Dash gave up, not just on Danny, but on all bullying, even Tucker disapproved of his violence. He agreed that it was a good thing that Dash would stop bullying, especially since the other bullies would likely follow his example, but he didn’t think it was a good idea to take it this far.

Danny agreed, but the quiet voice inside his head didn’t let him say so, so he didn’t.

Dash wasn’t the only opponent that Danny faced with increasing amounts of violence, however. The ghosts that continued to harass him and his town were also subjected to his wrath. He beat them up far more than necessary to trap them in the thermos, and he got a vicious kind of pleasure from doing so.

He knew it was wrong to go against his moral code like this, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The quiet voice in his head crowed in pleasure, and in doing so it drowned out Danny’s own protests.

His senseless violence continued to escalate, and he started going on patrols without Sam and Tucker more and more often. They didn’t approve, he knew, but they couldn’t scold him about it if they didn’t know it had happened.

It was during one of these solo fights that he took the next step towards the inevitable. He was chasing some sort of ecto-animal, barely sentient enough to be aware of its environment, but an absolute pain in Danny’s ass. He had caught the critter several times, depositing it into the Ghost Zone every time, but it continued to find its way out.

Even the severe beatings that Danny delivered didn’t teach it to stay away, and he was just so tired of fighting this same ghost over and over again. The quiet voice in his mind had an idea to stop the ghost from returning, and Danny gladly obeyed.

He didn’t even think about what he was doing as he pinned the critter down with one hand, charging an ecto-blast in the other. He pressed the charged ball of energy against the chest of the small animal and released it, obliterating the core of the ghost. Afterwards, he dutifully sucked up the remaining ectoplasm, dumped it into the Ghost Zone, and promptly forgot about it, never stopping to think about what, exactly, he had done.

The quiet voice continued to encourage him to destroy ghosts (although it never actually said anything along those lines, only that he was taking care of problems in a more permanent way), and so Danny continued to obliterate any non-sentient ghosts that crossed him.

It was only a matter of time before someone spotted Phantom doing so, and word quickly spread. Within the hour, everyone in Amity seemed to know about Phantom destroying other ghosts, and everyone had their own opinion about the matter. Some were glad to see that bothersome ghosts would never return, others thought that Phantom had gone too far, and others still thought that this was the start of a slippery slope, a clear tell that Phantom wasn’t the well-behaved ghost he pretended to be.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were upset, of course. They knew that Danny had been patrolling without them more and more, and they suspected that he was doing so to hide his violence from them, but they never thought it would be this bad.

They demanded to know why he would do this, but he couldn’t tell them. He didn’t want to tell them about the quiet little voice that encouraged him, and it’s not like he did any real harm. The ecto-animals he destroyed were barely sentient, and did little more than cause trouble. The world was better off without them.

Their protests that people said that about most ghosts, including himself, were ignored.

Their attempts to follow him on patrols went unheeded as well, as they were easy to lose, and he made sure to restrain himself when they were around.

The reality of what he had been doing still didn’t hit Danny when he destroyed a humanoid ghost for the first time.

Amity Park had grown quieter. The animal ghosts avoided the city, and even the more intelligent ghosts had started to shy away. Instead of enjoying the peace, Danny grew restless and paranoid, and the voice was quick to strike. It started to encourage him to act pro-actively in his defense of the city, instead of waiting for trouble to come.

As Danny pondered how to achieve this, the voice started pointing him in the direction of ghosts who posed a threat to him, ghosts who might endanger his loved ones.

It was an obvious choice. There were many ghosts who endangered the city, but there was only a single ghost who posed such a clear threat to Danny’s family and friends.

And so Danny left for the Ghost Zone, finding his way to Clockwork’s tower with surprising ease.

The Fenton Thermos sat on a table, unattended.

Danny removed the empty Thermos that he wore on his back, and replaced it with the Thermos that contained his future self.

On his way out, he glanced at the screens that Clockwork used to view the timeline. He saw familiar imagery of his evil future self destroying Amity Park, and took it as silent encouragement from Clockwork.

He left the tower, and left the empty Thermos.

Actually destroying his future self was easier said than done, however. He knew he couldn’t win in a direct battle, and he didn’t want to risk the full ghost escaping.

His parents’ inventions provided the solution for his troubles. He managed to find a cage strong enough to hold the evil Phantom, and the questionably-named Ecto-Stoppo-Power-Erfier would then be used to strip the ghost of his powers. After that, destroying him was easy, especially when he remembered everything the ghost had done.

Danny still didn’t think about what he had done. The voice continued to whisper its approval to him, telling him that the full ghost had it coming, that he deserved it.

The voice continued to encourage Danny’s violence, and Danny continued to listen obediently. He grew sullen and withdrawn, with a short fuse and vicious when angered. Mr. Lancer and his parents grew concerned as well, and his sister, Sam, and Tucker hovered around him almost constantly.

They tried to help, in their own ways, but their words were almost incomprehensible to him. The voice, which had steadily grown louder, drowned them out with ease.

They were worried about him, he could tell, but nothing he did seemed to calm them down. He wanted to help them, his friends, his sister, his parents, and his teacher, but he didn’t know how.

Luckily, the voice knew.

And, just like before, Danny obeyed.

Suddenly, the voice grew quiet, and for the first time in who-knows how long, Danny had only his own thoughts to keep him company.

He couldn’t really remember what he had been doing. He knew that Jazz, and Sam and Tucker, and his parents, and even Mr. Lancer had been worried about him. He had wanted to help them, he remembered, but he hadn’t known how.

He knew he had helped them. He just couldn’t remember what he had done to achieve this.

It was then that he started to take in where he was. He didn’t recognize the area, as it had turned unrecognizable by some sort of great violence. There was debris littered around everywhere, and fire as well. The streets had emptied out, with no one around.

Had a ghost attacked? Were his loved ones safe?

He made to take off, and saw his gloves as he raised his clenched fists.

His gloves, which had once been white, were heavily stained with something red.

He looked at his hands, slowly opening and closing them. The red which stained them glittered, liquid moving as the gloves underneath shifted.

He knew it was blood, but he wasn’t sure how he knew. He wanted to blame the (not so) little voice, but it remained silent.

Suddenly remembering the situation, he shoved away his concerns about the blood on his gloves, and whirled around to inspect the area. He saw something moving from the corner of his vision and almost blasted it, but closer inspection showed that he had seen himself reflected in a shattered window.

He was about to laugh at himself for his own stupidity, but something felt off about his reflection, stopping him. Danny drifted closer to the window, and looked at himself.

Ruby red eyes looked back.

His skin was stained by soot, but the color seemed off. Automatically, Danny reached up to wipe some of it off. The skin underneath was discolored, a strange blue rather than his normal tan.

He closed his eyes, refusing to accept what he saw. He turned around, eyes still closed, and tried to force it out of his mind.

Something tickled the back of his neck, a welcome distraction. Until he realized that the tickling was his own hair, and he could feel it flickering like fire. Dread washed over him, heavy and cold.

Opening his eyes again, he pulled down a lock of his hair to inspect. Just as he had feared, it continued to wisp in his hand, despite the lack of wind.

Releasing it again, Danny turned back to look at his reflection. He nervously licked his lips, and shivered as he felt (and saw) a narrow snake-like tongue instead of his normal tongue. He grimaced, and saw the light glint off of his fangs.

“No...” he whispered, but suddenly he knew.

The voice, which had haunted him for months, steadily increasing in volume, didn’t just sound familiar because it was his mind’s voice. It had sounded familiar because it was his voice, the voice of his future self.

“No,” he repeated, stronger, and he whirled around to search the area around him.

His eye was suddenly drawn towards a bright sign in the rubble, and he instantly recognized it, despite the damage done to it. It had once read “Nasty Burger”, but most of the letters had been burned or blown off.

He glanced around himself, still looking for his loved ones, but he knew he wouldn’t find them. Not alive, at least.

He halted, inhaled sharply, and then turned back to his house. He had to speak with Clockwork.

He had to fix this, somehow.

But Clockwork didn’t show himself. The tower was as empty as the last time, and the screens still displayed the same imagery. Danny found himself watching them, and slowly realized that he had misjudged their purpose during his last visit.

They weren’t quiet encouragement from Clockwork to destroy his future self. They were a warning of the path he had taken.

He hadn’t listened.

Clockwork couldn’t change the past, he could only steer the future. And Danny hadn’t followed the correction, had instead followed the voice of his future self.

And so Clockwork could do nothing to help him, or his loved ones.

He ruefully thought to himself that this future was inevitable, after all.

[gessvhowarth]

What Are The Best Dance Shows In London This Spring?

While the spring season may seem less razzle-dazzle compared to last winter's big hitters (a la Matthew Bourne’s The Red Shoes or Akram Khan’s Giselle), don’t be April-fooled. There's still a wealth of gems up the city's dance sleeves. In this case: a few seasoned favourites, along with a host of inventive (and topical) premieres. Here's a few of our top picks.   Ballet on a bigger scale Marina Minguez as the Fairy Godmother in My First Ballet: Cinderella. Photo by Ash. Look out for Kenneth Macmillan’s devastatingly dark Mayerling at the ROH, based on the true story of the mysterious double death of Crown Prince Rudolf of Austria-Hungary and the 17 year-old Mary Vetsera in 1889. The genius of Macmillan's choreography lies in its ability to convincingly present lead character Rudolf with apprehension and discomfort. Listen out for music by prolific Hungarian composer Franz Liszt (Years of Pilgrimage). SS Publicised as the first ever abstract three-act ballet, George Balanchine’s 1967 creation Jewels also returns to ROH. Emeralds features art nouveau lampshades set to music by Gabriel Fauré; while Rubies utilises a jazzy Stravinsky score and a rich set. Diamonds dresses the dancers in white, and employs Tchaikovsky's Polish Symphony No. 3. SS The English National Ballet School heads to the Peacock Theatre for its sixth year with My First Ballet: Cinderella, enabling children as young as three to experience a classic ballet production. This reimagining of the popular fairy tale promises all the delicate steps and ravishing costumes of the traditional ballet, with the addition of a narrator and an adapted musical score allowing little ones to follow the proceedings. PE Jewels (Royal Ballet): Royal Opera House, 1-21 April 2017. Tickets: £4-£100 My First Ballet: Cinderella (English National Ballet and English National Ballet School), The Peacock, 11-22 April, Tickets £10-£25 Mayerling (Royal Ballet): Royal Opera House, 28 April-13 May 2017. Tickets: £4-£100. Mixed bills Pina Bausch's Le Sacre Du Printemps. Photo By Ulli Weiss. Not seen in the UK since 2008, Pina Bausch's iconic Rite of Spring (Le Sacre Du Printemps) is performed with a live Stravinsky accompaniment by the English National Ballet Philharmonic. William Forsythe and Hans van Manen also add to this hotly-anticipated triple bill, putting a spotlight on Tamara Rojo's English National Ballet this season. LS Considered by some as "the world's most popular living dance maker", Matthew Bourne takes audiences on a set of entertaining New Adventures this April at Sadler's Wells in celebration of his company's 30th anniversary. From a tour of Gay Paree in The Infernal Gallop to post-war vignettes featuring pas de deuxs and pastoral clog-dances in Town and Country, Bourne gives audiences a taster of his earlier works, and a clear reminder of his raw talent. The ROH showcases two new mixed bills that are not to be overlooked. One contains the first revival of David Dawson's The Human Seasons, Christopher Wheeldon's After the Rain of 2005 and a piece by Crystal Pite that is so new it doesn’t even have a name yet.  SS The other features the first revival of Christopher Wheeldon's Strapless; The Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude, a classic work by modern master William Forsythe (that has not been seen at the Royal Ballet for nearly 15 years); George Balanchine’s Tarantella and a new work by Liam Scarlett set to Sergei Rachmaninov's brilliant Symphonic Dances. SS Ballet Black's Triple Bill — first presented at Barbican in spring 2016 — delighted a new generation of dance fans with an uncharted bold style of choreography. Artistic director Cassa Pancho commissions the triple bill once more, blending international dancers of black and Asian descent with edgy pieces from the likes of celebrated British choreographer Michael Corder and South Bank Award winner Annabelle Lopez Ochoa (who gives Red Riding Hood a surprising twist). Barbican also brings Julie Cunningham — whose performances with Michael Clark Company have won her a Critics' Circle Award — back for a double bill that utilises dance and spoken word to explore gender and identity. Expect a hip hop-influenced reworking of an ancient Greek myth and tracks by Anohni (Antony and the Johnsons) offering a contrast in the artist's dynamic approach. Julie Cunningham & Company with Julie Cunningham, Alex Williams, Hannah Burfield and Harry Alexander. Photo by Stephen Wright. Ballet Black Triple Bill (Cassa Pancho): Barbican, 2-4 March, Tickets: £16-£30 Julie Cunningham and Company - Double Bill (Julie Cunningham Company): Barbican, 8-11 March, Tickets: £18  The Human Seasons / After the Rain / New Crystal Pite (Royal Ballet): Royal Opera House, 16 – 24 March 2017. Tickets: £3-£50. Pina Bausch/ William Forsythe / Hans van Manen (English National Ballet): Sadler's Wells, 23 March-1 April 2017. Tickets: £12-£55. New Adventures (Matthew Bourne) Sadler's Wells, 3 April-8 April 2017. Tickets: £12-£45. The Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude / Tarantella / Strapless / Symphonic Dances (Royal Ballet): Royal Opera House, 18-31 May. Tickets: £3-£100. Dance with a twist Wayne McGregor's Tree of Codes. Photo by Joel Chester Fildes. Inspired by Jonathan Safran Foer's book of the same name, Sadler's Wells associate artist Wayne McGregor's Tree of Codes comes to London following critical acclaim at last year's Manchester International Festival. The cast includes soloists and dancers from The Paris Opera Ballet and Company Wayne McGregor, with sets by Olafur Eliasson (think back to "that sun" at Tate Modern in 2003), and a score by Mercury Prize-winning Jamie xx. Ex-Royal Ballet prodigy Sergei Polunin brings Project Polunin to Sadler's Wells, where he aims to create new dance works through the collaboration of artists, musicians and choreographers for both stage and film. This triple bill includes the world premiere of Narcissus and Echo, a piece co-created by Polunin in collaboration with composer Ilan Eshkeri, who wrote the music for Polunin's biographical film Dancer, and photographer and artist David LaChapelle. A re-enactment of Casanova is brought to the stage by Northern Ballet — who in February won Best Classical Choreography at the National Dance Awards for their version of 1984. Don't miss a sultry, custom score from film composer Kerry Muzzey, played live by Northern Ballet Sinfonia, and designs from the Tony and Olivier award-winning Christopher Oram. Prepare yourselves for a fresh take on 18th century seduction. It wouldn't be a dance season without Akram Khan. In a much anticipated return to Sadler's Wells, the artist performs in his tale of home and heritage — Desh — which first opened in 2011 to great praise. Stories spanning both Britain and Bangladesh (the homeplace of his parents) are brought to life by Oscar-winning visual artist Tim Yip, Olivier Award-winning composer Jocelyn Pook, writer and poet Karthika Naïr and slam poet PolarBear. Akram Khan in Desh. Photo by Richard Haughton. Tree of Codes (The Paris Opera Ballet, Company Wayne McGregor): Sadler’s Wells, 4-11 March, Tickets: £12-£45 (look out for dates, most shows sold out). Project Polunin: Sadler's Wells, 14-18 March, Tickets: £12-£60 (look out for dates, most shows sold out). Dancer (featuring Sergei Polunin): in UK cinemas Thursday March 2 (with an exclusive satellite Q&A March 2). Casanova (Northern Ballet): Sadler's Wells, 9-13 May, Tickets: £12-£45 Desh (Akram Khan): Sadler’s Wells, 31 May - 3 June, Tickets: £12-£45 Making a statement Darren Johnston's Zero Point. Photo by Darren Johnston. Avant-garde artist Boris Charmatz allures audiences with an after-dark, off-site dance experience — danse de nuit — whereby six dancers move by "a palpable sense of urgency", taking into consideration events such as the 2015 Paris terrorist attacks, where people operate within a probable sense of danger. Stirring duo Project O revisit how dance can explore, heal and challenge the violence and oppression that haunts our society in Voodoo (presented at Sadler's Wells as a two hour spectacle with four back-to-back showings). Experience two women's attempt at tapping into their individual and collective power, and communicating with the past, present and future.   Barbican gets eclectic, or perhaps electric, with Darren Johnston's Zero Point that fuses digital imagery with meditative choreography. Hypnotic light and video projections promise to fill the stage-space, along with an ensemble of Japanese dancers. Canadian composer and pioneer of experimental electronic music Tim Hecker provides an additional energy to power the piece. The Place takes on Rosalind in a collaboration with Korean dancers and artists. Spearheaded by James Cousins, who in 2012 won the New Adventures Choreographer Award selected by Matthew Bourne, the show (as part of The Place's explosive dance season) tells the story of one woman's pursuit of enlightenment via the wondrous nights of a big city. Cousins prods audiences with the question, "Do women still need to take on stereotypical masculinity in order to find equality in our modern world’? Rosalind (James Cousins Company): The Place, 15-18 March, Tickets: £12-£18 Voodoo (Project O): Sadler's Wells Lilian Baylis Studio, 12 May, Tickets: £17 danse de nuit (Boris Charmatz): Sadler's Wells off-site location, 17-20 May, Tickets: £20 (£15 concessions)   Zero Point (Darren Johnston): Barbican, 25-27 May, Tickets: £16-£30 Additional writing contributions from Sam Smith (SS), Lise Smith (LS) and Phillipa Ellis (PE).

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/londonist/sBMe/~3/dqAg145Snrs/spring-dance-preview

[floralmotif]

3.12 is a test for 5.01: Sympathy for Jus in Bello

So... this was meant to be my Round 4 of @elizabethrobertajones Great Meta Scavenger Hunt. Comparing 3x12: Jus in Bello and 5x01: Sympathy for the Devil. I had a lot of this written but was really lazy about editing it and um… I don’t care if I don’t get points. I just want to get this thing out. 

This isn’t the best organized thing in the world. I took a look at some parallels I found and looked at the ladies a little. Other people have looked into them better than I did here, though, in my opinion. I mostly talk about the parallels I see here.

Nancy, Nick, the Supernatural and world views: Nancy and Nick are the “Cats” in these episodes. They are the innocents. They’re the ones that the plot needs to convince for the drama and message to be conveyed and for the audience to find it’s moral seat. They’re both told by their respective convincers that they aren’t the bad guys and are misunderstood. Both eventually believe them and both pay the price for it whether intentional or not on the part of the convincers. We know and care about the Winchesters, we know they don’t mean Nancy harm but from her perspective, they are the scariest of the scary. They go against her beliefs and are considered worshippers of the devil. They are “As Satan” to her. She is convinced by the end of the episode and is willing to say yes to her sacrifice. Just like Nick. Nick is also approached from a prisoner who needs him for a purpose but Lucifer's purpose is much more selfish despite the nuanced framing. Even though both Nancy and Nick are discarded for their trust, the context is very different.

 Through these two episodes we are shown the difference and similarities between the Winchesters and Lucifer. We are also given a Lucifer catalyst as a mirror context in the form of Ruby. The Winchesters would never put Nancy into that position themselves and would never really want her to sacrifice herself for them. Even though they have approached Nancy in a similar manner, they are literally not the devil as he is later seen in SPN. The Winchesters and Ruby comprise the Lucifer parallel for this episode. By their powers combined they are Luci, but only combined. They may feel toxic by losing the PD to Lilith at the end, but they would never be Lucifer on their own(outside of metaphor) and they would never go through with it. I believe this is why Nancy is framed as the little Christian innocent. She is posing that question as we would, the audience: So boys, who are you and how far are you willing to go for people you don’t know? This is a “you are not our tools” display. Sam and Dean really do try to be the good guys here.

Now the above is involving humans. If you want to delve into fun fun land, consider the scene in 5.01 with Zachariah.. Different approach but also kinda Winchestery If you’re not human. They treat the Supernatural in a similar way to Zachariah(minus the sexual assault references) willing to torture and give ultimatums for compliance. Zachariah seemingly views the humans and other species in a similar way Dean and Sam view most Supernatural beings. Gotta love characterization and world view! I think the earlier set is what the show is going for though *cough* SPN is very anthropocentric most of the time. I have some thoughts on that but they’re probably best somewhere else.

More under the cut:

Nancy is interesting, if unfortunate There are several instances of Nancy being resourceful in 3.12. Even if it is all in a typically female coded, nurturer way. I think it’s meant to frame her as innocently as possible even if it’s cheap. She is our Perspective Lens of the “not audience” so we can sort of understand the situation for the people who don’t know the Winchesters and recognize them as the dangerous people they are instead of just the guys we know. She knows her way around the place and how to dress a wound (or at least how to tend to one) She knows the people in the town and is the only one to show genuine care for them on a personal level. She shows agency on multiple occasions even if it’s a little contrived and focused on her sexuality and sacrifice.(ugh) She’s better than some others at least. I think the most interesting thing about her interactions with the Winchesters is how despite her framed innocence, Dean still can’t believe she’s a virgin. Virginity is so strange and Supernatural to him that he can’t believe it. I didn’t get to re-watch further episodes with Meg, Bella. Lillith and Becky so I focused more on other characters.

Ruby and Lucifer Ruby was kind of the perfect pawn of Lucifer and I’d say she’s the most like him of the demons we meet. She also uses trust, blood and a loved one as an avatar of herself to get what she wants. She plays the long game pretty well and just like Lucifer, technically targets individual people by offering them power and a means to an end. Her end was with Lilith’s, the final seal to open Lucifer’s cage. 

Means to an end There’s a lot of talk or at least parallels to the idea of “a means to an end” with Ruby or the lives of innocence against the lives of the few as the catalysts. The name of 3.12; Jus in Bello, even basically translates to the humanitarian law of preventing as much suffering as possible. It is sort of a question of “What is the measure of suffering and innocence in times of war” This idea gets pulled directly into 5.01 with Dean basically asking that question entirely to Zachariah. In 3.12, the question is posed to Dean and Sam by Ruby with a similar situation. Zachariah’s method of winning the war stands as another answer to this question: with the idea that sacrifice is necessary. 3.12 is in a lot of ways, a test for season 5. In fact, a lot of season 3 is. It’s the setup for the war arc, it’s the gun that we’re shown. We’re reminded of in season 4 and is fired in season 5. In some ways, it’s setting up the audience for the Winchester’s answer to this question in season 5: the innocents are everything. 3.12 is like a microcausan and a confirmation of the Winchester’s stance before the real test begins. Even with the death of the PD, we still know the ultimate answer.

Wardings Both these episodes also containing wardings that are new to the series as far as I know. I don’t remember the little pendants anytime before or since. The rib sigil sticks around though. Speaking of the pendants: Why don’t they give these to every person they ever encounter when demons are involved? Oh yeah, that’s why we don’t see them again. Watching 3.12 and seeing the convenient pendants and then seeing inexplicably unwarded-ass Bobby getting possessed in 5.01 was awkward to say the least. How is Bobby not warded? Was his tattoo burned or cut off? The wardings and rules in this show get so muddled sometimes.  Henriksen Henriksen kind of reminded me of Bobby actually and a lot of Dean as well. He somehow gave me a vibe of Dean finding a similar outlet regardless of whether he was a hunter which made me think of his apparent dissatisfaction with his life with Ben and Lisa later. He mostly reminded me of Bobby in the context of the episode comparison though. A veteran of their field being possessed by a demon on their home turf and suffering for it. Henriksen is also what happens when you combine Somerset and Mills from Se7en into one dude. This is why they aren’t one dude. I like Henriksen and he works here but that movie would would not have worked the same way with one character instead of two. I believe a similar reason is a step in the decision to make Dean and Sam separate people. The dynamic of the show and how we are given plot would be so much different if Sam and Dean were a single person.(despite how deuteragonists work) The show needs that dual dynamic to function how it does and not just from a characterization standpoint. 

Some parallels between Zachariah and Ruby: And now we come back to Zachariah. The scene in 5.01 where he shows up and confronts Dean and Sam in the storage unit mirrors the scene where Ruby comes to convince everyone to sacrifice Nancy in 3.12. Demons are destroyed, the possibility of innocent deaths on the table and individual lives at stake. Again, Dean denies the sacrifice. Both scenes are very manipulative with Zachariah operating in an actively antagonistic(sexually assault coded) way and Ruby playing the long game. Sex and trust are also in her arsenal with Sam. She’s relying on her relationship with Sam to keep him on her side. Both lay out how it’s gonna be, both lay out the order of things and their bargain. These two scenes culminate the main tension of the episode. We know Nick will accept Lucifer’s offer, they wouldn’t bother with the setup if he didn’t. The scenes with Zachariah and Ruby are the “debates” they are the main conflict for the characters and the A-Plot. I find it interesting that the scene in 3.12 ends with them deciding on a different path and Castiel “captain flip the script” shows up to end the 5.01 scene. Both offer an impossible situation with lots of casualties. One succeeds on delivering them, one fails mostly. Both decided no to sacrifice. The 3.12 one probably really fed the seed of them being toxic to them. Poor guys. 

BMoL and Angels Part of these two episodes present a lot of similarities between each other and the Men of Letters. The eps and BMoL involve instances of a designated law enforcement (the police/FBI and The Host) deciding on how to deal with the Winchesters and how they operate. In all cases, they also seem to have false information involving them. 3.12 and 12.01 even show similar charts with false information on them. There have been several instances of the Host being confused by the operation methods of Cas and the Winchesters and wanting to “set that right” by whatever means they deem necessary.

Bonus notes: If you squint you can see all of the “Don’t” on the cell wall (No spitting, No shouting, No smoking) demonstrated by possessed Agent Steven. He shoots Dean to spit Dean’s blood(on the sign no less in case you needed convincing), he shouts when expelling the demon, it smokes out. Who the hell is Molly Baker? The camera focuses on her Wanted Poster in 3.12 a few times and it’s weird.