#what's the commitment to those who have died that we cry out they've not died in vain

[ofpd]

ngl light one candle by peter paul and mary always gives me chills and makes me tear up

[raaorqtpbpdy]

This Sure as Hell Never Happened on Scooby-Doo

While investigating a fairly routine haunting in a Michigan hotel, Sam and Dean come face to face with a creature unlike any they've faced before. [Takes place around mid season 1 for SPN, and at a non-specific point in the DP timeline]

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week, Day 7: Supernatural | Veil

First off, congrats to Supernatural for finally making the main prompt list after two years of being an honorable mention lol. I had a lot of trouble coming up with an idea for this one for some reason, so it ended up being kind of generic. This is, however, the first time I've ever written the Full Hazmat AU, which was pretty exciting.

AO3 Link

[Warning for minor violence, and references to suicide throughout]

As a general rule, hunters steered clear of Amity Park, although the reason why varied from one to another.

Some believed all the so-called supernatural occurrences there were just a hoax, like Bigfoot, so there was no point wasting valuable time and energy looking into them. Others swore up and down that, hoax or not, there was something about that town that made you see things. Impossible things. Things that made even the most experienced hunters pause. Some simply believed that Amity Park could take care of itself. Outside interference would only cause more problems than it would solve.

Then there were those who believed that Amity Park, that the very town itself, didn't want them there. That hunters were just not welcome.

The town was infamous in the hunter community. Grizzled, plaid-wearing men would talk about it at roadhouses and truck-stop diners. They'd warn other people away, tell them not to even drive through it on their way to somewhere else. There was nothing in that town worth dying for, and they took care of their own. Hunters weren't needed, they weren't wanted, and they'd just do better if they stayed away.

Every once in a while though, Amity Park's unique brand of freaky bled out of that isolated town. And when it did, then it became the hunters' problem. Unfortunately, more often than not, they wouldn't know it until it was too late.

Sam and Dean were investigating a supposedly haunted hotel. Staff and guests they'd spoken to had all reported blinking lights, cold spots, scratching in the walls. The staff seemed content to blame it on the owner's unwillingness to spend money to fix or update anything. The guests, on the other hand, not so much.

Those who stayed overnight reported horrible nightmares about bleeding out from their wrists. Some of them even claimed to have seen things, although they couldn't seem to agree on what they saw. A few saw a woman, covered in blood from slit writs, and crying, who vanished in the blink of an eye. But another claimed to have seen a small figure in a partially melted hazmat suit.

"Could there be more than one?" Sam asked when they'd returned to their own room in the hotel.

It was more expensive than the crappy motels they usually stayed it, but it was more convenient, and it gave them an excuse to wander around if they were actually staying there.

"Maybe, but... I don't know. If someone committed suicide in the hotel, it makes sense that their spirit would linger," Dean said. "I just can't think of any reason why there would be a ghost in a hazmat suit. Can you?"

"If the building used to be some kind of lab or research facility, it's possible," Sam said, "But this hotel was established back in the late thirties, and even if there was a research facility here before the hotel, the hazmat suit he described was much more modern than they would have worn back then."

Dean scoffed as he plopped down on his bed.

"Of course, leave it to my nerd brother to know what hazmat suits looked like in the thirties," Dean mocked. "Seriously though, that second ghost just doesn't make any kind of sense."

"We'll know more once we find info about anyone whose died in this hotel," Sam said. "This place has been in business for almost seventy years, I'm sure we'll have plenty to wade through."

"It could have been that guy was just making up a story," Dean said. "We've got three people claiming they saw a woman who disappeared, but only one mentioned the hazmat suit. Maybe he was messing with us."

"He seemed pretty shaken up about it," Sam said. "I didn't think he was lying."

"I didn't either, but...." Dean shook his head thoughtfully. "Something about that story just doesn't sit right. And you know what else? That redheaded girl who got all defensive when we started acting questions. Something doesn't sit right about her, either. She acted like she was responsible, or trying to protect the person who was. Except we already know this is a haunting. We know there's at least one ghost, so why did she act like that?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "Could be she was trying to hide something else."

"Maybe...."

"Come on," Sam said. "Let's start by combing through local death records at the library."

"You go ahead," Dean told him. "I wanna talk to that girl's parents, see if they know anything. I'm starting to think there might be more to this case than just a standard haunting."

"Fine. We'll meet back here later."

—

"So, what'd you find?" Dean asked when his brother got back to their room.

"Okay, so get this," Sam began. "There have been several deaths in this hotel. A couple of heart attacks, a couple of accidents. One guy fell out his window, which caused the hotel to seal all the windows on the upper floors shut so they couldn't be opened. There have also been three suicides since the hotel's founding.

"A World War 2 vet shot himself in the head in December of 1945, just a few months after the war ended; A girl OD'ed in 1963, leaving a note about how the state of the world had made her unwilling to live in it; and lastly, a woman in 1992 slit her wrists in room 201 after her husband divorced her, blaming her for the murder of their only son."

"Sounds like we've ID'ed our first ghost," Dean noted. "We got a name?"

"Jennifer Bishop," Sam said. "She was accused of murdering her son, but never convicted because they never actually found the body, only a whole lot of blood they identified with DNA testing. She defended her innocence until her death, but the police never actually investigated anyone else for her son's disappearance and presumed death. Once she offed herself, they just closed the case."

"Another gold standard of police incompetence," Dean said. "Did you find out where she was buried?"

"Her family was catholic, but since she committed suicide, they couldn't bury her in their family plot at their church. Instead, she was buried in a public cemetery, Lincoln Memorial Park... but it's in her hometown: Petoskey, Michigan. She was only here for the trial."

"Great, so we gotta drive all night to get to friggin' Petoskey," Dean moaned. "Awesome. This is why hotel ghosts suck. Did you find any leads on hazmat suit?"

"Nothing. What about you?" Sam asked. "Get anything useful interviewing that red-headed girl's parents?"

"Nah," Dean said, shaking his head. "Remember those hellhoundslair dorks?"

Sam nodded.

"That's what they were like," he continued. "Overenthusiastic, but incompetent. She probably realized we were asking about ghosts and was nervous they'd overhear. While I was talking to them she reminded them they'd promised not to hunt any ghosts while their family was on vacation. They didn't seem too happy about that, but they at least stopped insisting they'd help me 'catch that slippery specter', so that was something, I guess.

"I did learn she has a younger brother, though. I didn't get to talk to him, but when I was leaving, I overheard the two kids talking, and he said something like, 'there's not enough of her there to talk to', and 'there's not a whole lot left of her at all," Dean finished. "Not sure what that was all about, but it seemed like they were trying to keep it on the down-low, especially from their parents."

"You think it could be related?" Sam asked.

"As far as I know, the brother never promised not to hunt ghosts," Dean replied with a shrug. "That and a gut feeling are pretty much all I have to base it on, though."

"Well, we know who our suicide is, at least," Sam said. "One of us should go take care of Jennifer Bishop while the other stays here in case she starts causing anymore trouble, or in case the hazmat ghost shows up again, if its even real."

"Why don't you take the salt-and-burn this time," Dean suggested.

Sam froze and looked at his brother, completely shocked. "You... want me to take your car and drive two hundred miles away... by myself?"

"And if you bring her back with so much as a scratch on her, I'll make you wish you were never born," Dean said. "But I feel like there's something at this hotel that I'm missing, and I'm gonna stick around until I figure it out."

"It's really bugging you, huh?" Sam noted. "Alright, well... it's a three hour drive, so I'd better get going."

"Yeah, and don't forget to fill up the tank on your way back."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam said as he walked out the door.

They'd already brought some weapons from the trunk into the hotel room, so Dean wouldn't be unarmed if he ran into one of the ghosts.

He did some quick math in his head. The ghost, or ghosts, probably wouldn't show up until it was night. Sam had a six-hour round trip, plus a good hour to dig up old Jennifer, probably longer, since he wouldn't have help. It was early afternoon now. 1:18 pm, a glance at the clock told him, so he could expect Sam back around nine-ish, give or take an hour. Sunset was around seven.

Jennifer would be gone well before nightfall... but that other ghost... if it even existed, they didn't have a single lead on it.

Dean headed down to the lobby.

He'd noticed them yesterday, a group of older ladies with a basket of yarn in the middle of them, chatting up a storm. He and Sam hadn't spoken to them yesterday, but now that Sam was gone, it was time for Dean to dial up a very particular type of charm that Sam would tease him for mercilessly if he ever saw it. He stood nearby, waiting for his moment.

"I swear," one lady said. "I turned up my thermostat four times last night. I had it cranked all the way up to ninety, and I could hear the radiator groaning like anything, but my room was still freezing."

"Did you phone the concierge?" another lady said.

"I tried, but they just apologized and said it's an old hotel," replied the first. "Didn't even offer to send a handyman, or move me to a different room or anything. Anyway, that's why started coming down here during the day. I just can't stand it."

That was his chance. "You too?" he asked her. "Which room are you in?"

"I'm in 201, why?"

Bingo. 201. The same room as their suicide victim.

"Well, it got to a point where I got my tools outta my car and just fixed the darn radiator myself," Dean lied. "I could take a look at yours too, if you'd like."

"Would you?" she asked, sounding beyond relieved. "Oh, thank you so much. It's gotten so bad I can hardly sleep at night, so that would be a real godsend if you would do that. You're such a lamb."

"Oh, it's no problem, ma'am," Dean said, taking an empty seat nearby. "The name's Dean, by the way."

"I'm Millie," the woman said. "And these are my friends, Cathy and Debbie. We're in town for a big doll convention. We're collectors, you know. And Debbie even makes dolls herself out of felt."

"I do, and I've gotten pretty damn good at it, if I say so myself," Debbie said. "I even made a felt baby doll for my granddaughter's birthday a few months back and she was over the moon."

Upon closer inspection, all three of the ladies seemed to be knitting or crocheting very small clothes, presumably for dolls. Hopefully he could redirect the topic of conversation back to ghosts soon, because Dean didn't know Jack about dolls.

"What about you?" asked the third woman, Cathy. "What brings you to Lansing? I assume you don't live here, or you wouldn't be staying at a hotel."

"I'm here on business," he replied, silently thanking god that she'd changed the topic for him.

"What kind of business?" Millie asked. "You said you can fix a radiator, are you some kind of technician, or construction worker?"

"Actually... I'm a private investigator," he lied.

"Oooh, exciting!" Cathy said. "What are you investigating?"

"I'm afraid I can't share the details... but maybe you ladies could help me," he said. "Have any of you seen anything strange while you've been staying here?"

"I saw a man dancing near the park who could clasp his hands behind his back and pull them all the way in front of him," Debbie said. "That was pretty strange. I gave him a dollar."

"I was thinking more like in the hotel," Dean said. "Maybe like... a figure in a hazmat suit?"

Millie gasped, and Dean fixed his gaze on her.

"You have?"

"Well... you see, I have sleep paralysis," she said. "Last night, I had only managed to fall asleep for an hour or two because it was so cold, but then I woke up in the middle of the night because my room suddenly got even colder, but I couldn't move, of course. It takes me a while to be able to move after I wake up.

"And then I saw, like you said, someone wearing a hazmat suit, a black one with white gloves. They were small, like they weren't fully grown, and they were glowing," Millie explained. "Their suit was damaged, partly melted, it looked like. I'd never seen something like that before, but I just figured it had to be a sleep paralysis hallucination, and maybe it partly was, but do you think it could have been real? That someone broke into my room last night?"

"How frightening," Debbie said with a shiver.

"Maybe," Dean said. "Maybe not. I'm not really sure yet." He paused, consideringly. That was two people now who saw the hazmat suit, and this one saw it in the same room where the other ghost had died. "Did it say anything to you? Or do anything that you saw?"

"I couldn't really turn my head, but they seemed like they were looking for something, didn't seem to find it though. Nothing was missing from my room when I finally got up, at least," Millie said. "They didn't say anything, and only looked at me for a moment. Oh! But they might've been muttering something. Not sure what it was, though."

"Thanks, that's a lot of help," Dean said. "If you think of anything else, let me know?"

"Do you think I'm in danger?" Millie asked. "Should I request a room change after all?"

"If that would make you feel safer," Dean said. "I'm not sure it's as cut and dry as a break-in... but maybe you should just stay in one of your friend's rooms for a night."

"You can stay in my room tonight, Millie," Cathy volunteered.

He stayed for a little while, chatting with them. It wasn't something he wanted getting out, but old ladies always loved him for some reason. He even managed to get Cathy's key-lime pie recipe, which the other two swore up and down was absolutely to die for. Who knew when the next time he'd have a kitchen to try it out would be, but he'd make sure to write it down next chance he got, just in case.

It wasn't until he saw that red-haired teenage girl and a short, black-haired boy who was presumably her brother walk through the lobby that he excused himself to follow after them, claiming they were persons of interest in his case.

"If you didn't find anything, how did you even know it was the right room?" the sister was asking when Dean got close enough to hear.

He was trying hard not to be noticed while he tailed them, but as quietly as they were talking, he had to stick closer than he would have liked.

"That was where her presence was the strongest," the brother answered. "I just don't know how I'm supposed to help her when she's not strong enough to speak, and we're leaving tomorrow, so tonight is my last chance."

Could he be a psychic of some kind? Maybe a medium?

He turned around abruptly, and Dean barely had time to make it look like he was examining a shop's window display of... glass baubles and nick-knacks. Oh, yeah, he definitely seemed like the type to be interested in those. Hopefully they wouldn't question it.

"Is he staying at our hotel?" the brother whispered.

"Yeah," the sister confirmed, "and he was asking about cold spots and flickering lights, too. You think he knows something?"

"I think I'd rather stay away from him," replied the brother. "He could be the dangerous type."

After that, it seemed like the kids were deliberately trying to shake him, and it wasn't long before they did, almost as if they'd simply vanished into thin air.

Dean gave up searching and returned to the hotel. He found Millie in the lobby and asked if she'd let him into her room to fix the radiator, even brought the few tools that he'd had in his room to make the story more convincing.

"Even if you don't stay in here tonight, I figure I can at least do the hotel a favor," he said.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," she said. "Don't you go snooping around in my underwear drawer," she teased, and he laughed along with her until she closed the door behind her and headed back downstairs to her knitting.

Any evidence that there had been a suicide in this room had been long since erased. It was cold, just as Millie said it was, but there didn't appear to be any problem with the radiator. One of the tools he'd brought along was an iron crowbar, and he gripped it tightly.

"Jennifer, you in here?" he called out.

The time was 5:06, meaning Sam was probably digging up her grave right now.

He got no response.

"Jennifer?" he called again. "Jennifer Bishop?"

Nothing.... he was pretty sure that kid had been saying she wasn't a very powerful ghost, maybe that was why she hadn't done much. She hadn't actually killed or even hurt anyone beyond a couple of nightmares and a cold room. Maybe she couldn't show herself during the day.

The Winchester brothers had only stopped here because they happened to be so close by when Sam read an article that claimed guests at this hotel had seen apparitions, and experienced horrible nightmares about a woman slitting their wrists. But the nightmares weren't actually killing anybody. Normally, they wouldn't have even bothered, but they were only a few miles away, and nothing else was close by.

Dean opened his mouth to call out one more time, but before he could, there was a flash of light and a distant-sounding screen, and he watched as the ghost of Jennifer Bishop appeared and almost instantaneously disappeared.

One down. One to go.

And wow was this room suddenly sweltering. Millie wasn't kidding about turning her thermostat up to ninety. Dean adjusted it to a much more reasonable 74°F, and left to go tell Millie he'd fixed her radiator.

After she was done thanking him, he headed up to his room and called Sam.

"Dean?" Sam said. "I took care of Jennifer Bishop."

"I know, I saw her burn up," Dean replied. "Nicely done. Anyway, I got some new info about our second ghost."

"Yeah? Let's hear it."

"The lady staying in the room where Jennifer offed herself said she saw a glowing figure in a hazmat suit in her room, thought it was a sleep paralysis thing until I brought it up. She said it seemed like it was looking for something, but it didn't seem to find anything."

"So we have a second witness for our hazmat ghost," Sam said. "And the description lined up?"

"Exactly," Dean confirmed. "I also have a new theory about those siblings, the red-headed girl and her brother. I think the brother might be a psychic, and was looking for a way to help Jennifer pass on peacefully, except she wasn't a strong enough spirit for him to connect with. Not sure how or even if this ties into the hazmat ghost at all."

"Still no clues about who it could be?" Sam asked.

"Nada," Dean said. "I did confirm that there was no lab or any kind of scientific facility at this site before the hotel was built. According to the hotel manager, before it was a hotel, it was a movie theater that went out of business during the great depression and got torn down, and before that, it was live-theater, but I'm pretty sure that was before hazmat suits were even invented. Before that, nothing. Just an empty lot."

"So maybe we're looking for someone who died somewhere else and their spirit was brought to the hotel connected to a cursed object," Sam suggested. "Have you seen anything in the hotel that looks like it might have come from a lab? Or belong to some kind of scientist?"

"If it was something that belonged to them, then it could be anything," Dean pointed out in exasperation. "A chair, or a painting, or a vase? I'm not gonna be able to find it unless I know what it is."

"You'd better start looking into any deaths in the area that might have been related to radioactive materials then," Sam said. "Any kind of death that might have occurred while the deceased was wearing a hazmat suit."

"Yeah, something that would have burned right through it," Dean said. "According to our descriptions, the suit is partially melted."

"You got this Dean?" I still have two and a half hours of driving to go.

"Yeah, I got it," Dean replied.

He did not got it. He got nothing. He stayed at the library until it closed at eight and didn't find a single death that fit the description. He got back to the hotel around the same time Sam did.

"Did you fill the tank?" he asked immediately.

"Yes, Dean, I filled the tank," Sam replied, rolling his eyes. "Did you identify our hazmat?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I couldn't find squat. It's like this ghost is..."

"A ghost?" Sam finished for him, raising an eyebrow.

Dean scowled. That had been what he was about to say, but he knew it sounded stupid, that's why he'd stopped.

"Yeah."

Sam shook his head as they went back up to their room.

—

The brothers were still puzzling out what to do about their second ghost, Dean cleaning his guns while Sam poured over their dad's journal, when they heard a muffled gasp from above them. Floating there on the ceiling was a figure in a hazmat suit, its faint glow barely visible in the light of the room.

For an instant, none of them moved. Then, acting quickly, Dean grabbed the crowbar that was next to him on the bed and flung it at the figure on the ceiling.

Rather than passing right through, causing the hazmat ghost to dissipate, the crowbar made contact with a clang, hitting it right on the head and knocking it to the floor between the two beds.

"Quick, salt, Sammy!" Dean shouted, rather than gape at the seemingly unconscious 'ghost' on their floor.

He tried to grab the hazmat-wearing figure, and to his surprise, it worked. He dragged it into the armchair in their room while Sam laid a ring of salt around it.

"Do you actually think this'll work, Dean?" Sam asked. "I mean, it doesn't seem like any ghost I've ever seen. Iron is supposed to repel ghosts, not actually hit them. I'm pretty sure this is something else."

"Iron hurt it—"

"Being hit in the head with a crowbar hurt it," Sam pointed out. "Based on that, it could be human for all we know."

"It was on the ceiling, Sam," Dean said flatly, grabbing the iron chains from under the bed and wrapping them around their captive. "And this don't look like Spider-Man to me."

"Well it doesn't look like a ghost, either," Sam insisted.

"So, what, you think this is some kind of Scooby-Doo situation?" Dean asked. "We'll pull off the mask and it turns out it's just some shady real-estate developer who wanted to get the hotel closed down so they could turn it into a theme park? Let's try it then."

Dean grabbed the hood of the hazmat suit and tore it off. 

They both gasped at what they saw.

Whoever it was, he looked young, maybe 13 or 14. His hair was as white as sheet and floated on an imaginary breeze. His face was dark. Lightning-bolt scars criss-crossed it all the way down to the neck until they disappeared under the suit's collar. His skin appeared to be badly burned, flaking off in ashes which vanished before they hit the ground.

He groaned as he started to come back to consciousness, and when he opened his eyes, they were a solid, eerie green, glowing so brightly they almost hurt to look at, even in the well-lit room.

"Still think he's human?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam shook his head, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.

"This sure as hell never happened on Scooby-Doo."

"Ugh," the mysterious boy groaned again, blinking and shaking his head like he was trying to get his bearings. "Did you seriously throw a crowbar at my head?" he demanded after a moment. "What the hell, dude?!"

"What are you?" Sam demanded. "A demon?"

"I'm a ghost, what the hell does it look like?" the boy replied.

"You don't look like any ghost we've ever seen," Dean said.

"Let me guess, you're more used to shades like the other ghost that was floating around this hotel, right?" the kid guessed. "She seems to have left the building though. You two got any idea why?"

"We took care of her," Dean replied. "Sam dug her up and salted and burned her bones. And if you really are a ghost, then we can do the same to you."

"You... you straight up ended her?" he asked. "Just like that? You didn't even give her the chance to move on? Ancients, what the hell!"

"She had the chance to move on when she died, and she didn't take it," Dean said. "Instead she terrorized people, so we showed up to stop her."

"She gave a few people nightmares! Everyone has nightmares sometimes! You didn't have to destroy her!"

"What's it to you, did you know her?" Sam asked. "She a friend of yours?"

"Well... no, but I was trying to?" the boy replied. "She was too weak to capture, and I didn't want to destroy her by trying to fight, so I was trying to learn more about her and help her move on."

"If you're a ghost, why don't you move on?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, what's keeping you around?" Dean echoed the sentiment more harshly.

"The same thing preventing you from salting and burning my bones," came the reply. The so-called ghost did not elaborate.

"And what would that be?" Dean finally asked.

"I guess you could say I'm not dead enough yet."

"So you're not a ghost, then," Sam said.

"I am," said the boy. "I'm not a shade, like that woman you ended. I'm what a ghost is like when we actually have enough power to be a whole person and not just a shadow of our former self. I'm a ghost like you've never encountered before."

"Whatever you are, we're gonna get rid of you," Dean jeered.

"Why?" asked the boy. "I haven't hurt anyone. All I did was try to help another ghost pass peacefully through the veil. Don't you hunters have any sort of moral code?"

"So, what?" Sam asked. "You're proposing we just let you go?"

"Fat chance," Dean scoffed.

"Not exactly," the ghost replied with a smirk. "More like I'm telling you not to feel to guilty when I escape." Then the ghost stood up, iron chains falling right off him. "Iron is more difficult to pass through without destabilizing, but not too much of a challenge for ghosts like me. Sorry, but this will be the last time we see each other."

With that, he pulled his hood back on, obscuring his face once more, so the only thing visible was the glow of his eyes behind the black lenses of his mask. Then he flew right up through the ceiling.

The Winchesters tried to find him. They searched the hotel top to bottom, probably looking half-mad, but he was gone. He'd simply vanished without a trace. And they never did see him again.

[chimeraspark]

Ok I just finished reading the Absolute Batman online and after reading that I got a bit of an idea on how Dick and Jason can be introduced to the story

So we know that the absolute universe is basically taking the most important thing to a character or switching places like the joker and Bruce cause he is obviously rich (cause who else can buy their own personal helicopter). So what if we switch Dick and Jason's places?

So we know that Bruce lives in crime ally with his mom (a universe where at least one parent of his is alive unbelievable) and friends, so what if one night when he's like a year or two into the batman thing he goes fighting whoever while a young boy no older then 10 stealing the motherfucking wheels of his motorcycle and what if it was in the same zoo that he's dad died so you know it goes as usual batman finds the tires missing, he full on belly laughs cus those were some high grade tires or something and now they gone, Jason goes to back to get the tires batsy sees him blah blah blah now suddenly he's got a kid and he absolutely has not idea how to raise him

Now if mama Martha is still alive after a year she's got some questions to say to her son cause why is there a random kid in their house?? Where are his parents?? Of course she's not mad she's just worried then Jason explains his entire situation and she's like ok you can stay her and all and now she helps Bruce raise her new grandson.

He also doesn't become Robin cus i don't think this batman wants a kid running around in gotham, instead he raises him as a normal kid to the best of his abilities and Jason's living his best life he's got a loving dad and grandma, a roof over his head, food, and he gets to go to school so like cool😃😃 and generally it's all fluff

Course I still want him to die and it's all the same except this time he's not Robin and instead of the joker killing him its members the court of owls and you know he dies Bruce was to late. But I want it to be more angst cus that was a boy not a hero or sidekick or anything it was a little boy who died in his father's arms hearing him cry out his name

Now on to Dick! He's backstory is the same but Bruce couldn't come to the circus so he wasn't adopted and after his parents death he became a talon turning him into the court's newst weapon (Dick hates the court of owls for what they've turned him into)(he just wanted to be the greatest acrobat in he world).

Now one day he was ordered to kill a young boy nearly the same age as him (he felt a shiver down his spine with how similar they look) cus he's dad was causing the court some trouble and they needed to get rid of him but they were going to mentally destroy him first and ok he can do that so he stalks the two for a few months waiting for the right moment to strike (seeing these two interact with each other makes him miss them, he wonders if they'd still love him for the things he's committed)

After sometime he's got the kid and the other talons are torturing him and he's off to the side watching this watching this bull headed, stubborn kid bite, kick, and scream at the members cause the kid wasn't gonna go down without a fight and saying that his dad is gonna beat their asses while being whipped and... he didn't really know how to feel about it cause it was fun seeing the kid fight back but he knew the outcome, he knew the kid ain't gonna live and his dad's not gonna be fast enough still he felt kinda bad seeing the man cry out his son's name (he remembers it so vividly his mom calling out his name as they plummeted to their deaths the horror in their eyes a look he can see in his nightmares)

And yeah that's all!! I still have an idea on how Dick become Bruce's Robin since Jason was his son not Robin but I'ma explain that in the next post ✌️ (also sorry about my english, still have a hard time forming understandable sentences)

[boldlyvoid]

ain't it fun? | Part five

Summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

Warnings: pregnancy, chronic illness, spencer's career chance - he's a high school teacher now, they have a 1-year-old, smut at the end but not graphic.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: I imagine this is in season 10, so they've been together at least 7 years-ish now, I just jumped well into the future because I wanted to! also, Cordelia's nickname is Edie and pronounced Ee-dee !!

P1 P2 P3 P4

“No.”

Spencer sighs, “are you going to like any of my suggestions?”

“When you give me a baby name that isn’t from some weird old male book character, then yes, I’ll take them into consideration,” she replies, hand on her stomach as she lays back against the pillows.

She was huge, 9 months pregnant and so, so close to the finish line. She was swollen and in pain and exhausted. Going off every single medication and recreational drugs to make a life was a commitment and a half, she was doing well but she was so ready to be done. To do a few more months of breastfeeding and then go back on her medications.

Spencer was terrific. He was googling and asking Penelope to research things, he had called doctors he knows and friends and did everything in his power to find a way to ease her pain even before they got pregnant. He’s taken the last 3 months off of work and he doesn’t know when he’ll go back. He has just been so, so incredible the whole time.

Naming a child was hard. You had to not only think about all the nicknames and what their initials spell, but you also had to think about how they’ll like it; if it’ll fit their personality and spirit. And most of all, is it going to get them bullied? There are some terrible kid names. Like Richard… how do you name a newborn Richard?

“I want something meaningful with a nice nickname and works with our names and her siblings,” she whispered towards him. “They need to all work together.”

“What are some of your favourites?” He asks, moving in closer and finding a way to cuddle in with her and her pregnancy pillow who has all but replaced him lately.

“I like earthy names, like Lennox, Juniper, Aspen, Elowen,” her voice is really soft, she bites her lip at the end as she thinks them over again. “And old things like Cordelia and Winnifred.”

“Which one sounds the best with Reid?”

“I like Cordelia Reid the most, and then we can call her Edie and I was thinking you can pick her middle name?” She’s been thinking about it for a while, but too afraid to know his opinions.

“Cordelia means core in Latin, which makes sense cause she already has my heart,” Spencer teased, he has made it very clear that their little girl is going to be spoiled, loved and a daddy's girl.

He took all his fears of being a bad dad and threw them out the window. He knew that just being there was all he wanted from his dad, and so that’s what he was going to do. He left the BAU for the time being, he was doing the odd lecture at the academy and answering calls for cases. They couldn’t just stop using his brain, there were some things too pressing to not ask the walking computer, but other than that, he was done.

He was looking into other jobs for when he finally decides to go back, he was unsure how long of a paternity leave he wanted. He was really content with just staying home all the time now, but he did miss going out and being useful during the days. The job he was most interested in, however, was a high school teacher.

A prep school in DC is looking into adding an Anthropology, Psychology and Sociology course to their curriculum, and they wanted Spencer. They thought he would be perfect for the seniors, he is fun and young and attentive, he can control a room and keep them entertained, and he’s probably the best teacher a kid could get.

It was going to make him a good dad too.

“I think Jade is a nice middle name,” he adds after thinking it over for a few minutes.

“Cordelia Jade Reid,” she says the full name for the first time and it just feels right, like they already know her.

—

She was very calm for a newborn baby.

She liked to just look around and blink, she licked her lips a lot and she was constantly breaking out of her swaddle. She was always happy to have cuddles with her dad and she pooped every night at exactly at 3 am, without fail. She didn’t cry a lot, but when she did it was still wonderful to hear.

They were so in love with her, she was absolutely perfect for them. She fit right into their sleeping schedule and their life, she ate like a pro, she slept most of the night and she was growing way too fast for their liking.

One day they’re crying over the fact they made a life in a tiny little hospital room, and the next thing they know she’s about to turn 1.

She’s sitting in bed with Y/N, she’s sitting in her lap with two handfuls of hair and a story to tell. She’s been babbling so much lately, she hears them talking all the time and she wants to join so badly. They indulge her, asking her to continue her thoughts and gasping at her gossip.

“No way, and what did you do next?!” She asked the little one sat in her lap.

Edie babbled on once more, smacking her tongue on the roof of her mouth as she pushed air past her vocal cords, humming and making the funniest sounds. She went on and on, she was so enthusiastic, like her father, as she waved her arms around to make her point.

“That is so fascinating, you are so cool, little Edie,” Y/N hyped her up, smiling at her as she leaned in close and pressed their noses together.

Cordelia laughed and it finally made Spencer giggle too, he had been watching from the doorway as his ‘wife’ and daughter talked in bed. They were best friends already, always talking and snuggling, learning or reading together. She was always happy when she was with one of them, she was needy and snuggly and very co-dependent but they didn’t mind, they preferred all the attention from her.

“Look who’s home,” Y/N whispered and Cordelia shot a glance towards the door, she smiled and screamed as she saw him.

“Hi Edie!” He waves at her with a smile, he takes his bag off and places it by the dresser followed by his blazer.

He gets into the bed and she instinctively reaches for a hug. He wraps her up and she snuggles right into his neck, with a fistful of his shirt, she just holds him there. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t home all day anymore, she missed him for lunch and at nap time but she loved the new routine of a snuggle when she woke up and he got home.

Spencer leans back against the pillows beside Y/N, turning his head to capture a kiss from her lips. They always just spend a quick second kissing when he gets home, even if it’s just a peck or a full-on passionate make-out, he always kisses her when he comes home. He smiles at the end of the kiss, pulling her into a hug too.

“I love Fridays,” he whispers, “Edie do you know what Fridays mean?”

She pulls away and sits up, she loves to listen to him. “Friday is the last day of the school week, which means I get to spend 2 whole days with my favourite people now.”

Edie smiled, almost like she understood what he meant, and then she was talking again, it was completely incomprehensible but they imagined she was telling him about her day.

“You forgot the part where we went to the park,” Y/N added.

Cordelia looked at her with wide eyes, “dada,” was the only word she said before babbling on again and they both stopped.

“Did she just?” Spencer was shocked and frozen still after asking.

Y/N sat up and looked right into Cordelia’s eyes, “who is that?” She pointed at Spencer.

“Dada!” She said it again and they were suddenly all squealing, even Cordelia was suddenly excited as she kept screaming dada over and over again.

“Can you say, mom? Or mama? Mummy?” Spencer tried his hardest to find an easy way for her to say it.

“Mumm,” she pushed her lips together to hum her M sound and Spencer was floored, he bounced her up and down a small amount as they cheered.

“Smartest girl in the world!” Spencer cheered her on before pulling her into another hug.

Y/N was crying softly, little tiny dreams that she didn’t even know she had were coming true every single day with them. She knew she wanted to be a mom when she was growing up, all those dreams died when her illness got worse and they all warned her that having kids would put her at risk of being moneyless and that working wasn’t an option to even support them. Let alone the threat of them taking them away just because of her autism or depression possibly being considered ‘too bad’ to care for them.

Spencer took all those fears and he kicked them out. Every day she got to experience the most precious gifts the world had to offer, her daughter was perfect and her husband was incredible. Together they were a perfect little family that ran on trust, love, and communication. Always talking, always hugging, always there for each other.

—

They crawl into bed much later than they expected to. Cordelia didn’t want to go to bed, she was trying her hardest to keep staying awake to spend time with them but eventually, sleep won. They finally placed her in her crib with her white noise and her complete darkness and closed her door for the next few hours of peace.

They both let out a deep sigh before rolling to face one another. “How was your day?” He asks, like always.

“Good,” she smiles, “I think having a kid and getting on her schedule was the best thing I’ve ever done actually, cause I’m sleeping on time, I’m eating when she does and I’m outside a lot more. She’s given me this purpose and it’s rewarding on my body.”

Spencer moves in so he can kiss her nose, “I love hearing that.”

“How was your class today?” She asks back, loving his little stories about all the 17 and 18-year-olds that were fascinated by him. As well as the kids who thought it was cool to try and pick on him before getting the shit verbally kicked out of them in front of the whole class.

It was interesting seeing him in a form of authority, he never really took charge at the BAU, she’s never seen him yell at his friends and he’s never really yelled at her either. He’s been incredibly calm, so to see him verbally tear someone apart by acknowledging their biggest flaws to make sense of why they feel the need to bully, it was pretty intense.

“They were a lot better today, they enjoyed the lesson and the kids that were giving me trouble skipped, I guess he really didn’t appreciate me calling him out that bad on Tuesday,” Spencer smirked, rolling his eyes like he cared.

“I still can’t believe that he thought it was okay to call you names in front of other students, where is the respect these days?”

“Well,” he’s about to do what he always does. He can never be truly mad at someone because he knows why everyone does what they do and that they can’t help it. “In his file, it says his parents are newly divorced, we get a list of all the kids information on the attendance like allergies and things, but also small info like life changes in case they act out.”

“Doesn’t mean he can call you the f slur,” she whispers, “all because you wore a purple shirt?”

“If I met his father I’d probably get an answer for that,” he adds, “if he’s afraid to show his emotions around his son, it’s probably why his son thinks colours are gay.”

It makes her laugh, “you look hot in purple too so I don’t see the problem?”

“Do I?” He teases, getting in even closer and pressing their bodies together.

She rolls her eyes before wrapping her arms around him and leaning forward for a quick kiss, “I think you look sexy all the time.”

He kisses her as a thank you, “I think the same about you.”

“Even when I haven’t showered in 2 days because she cries if she can’t see me and she cries if she gets wet?” Y/N laughed, annoyed but in love with their little monster at the same time.

“Always,” he reminds her. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she kisses him again after.

There are probably a million more things to share from the day, but they spend their time kissing instead. It’s been too long since they’ve just rolled around in the sheets making out like they did in the beginning. Before they ever had sex, before they had kids and a house and a love as strong as they do now.

A part of them missed the early days when everything was new and exciting, but she also loved the fact that they knew each other so well that they didn’t have to communicate anymore. They ran like 1 unit, always completing the other person's thoughts, needs and wants. They were so unbelievably happy.

She wants him badly and he wants her just as much, and he’s about to take her when she pulls back. “Nope, as much as I love her I can’t get pregnant again for at least another year.”

It makes him laugh as he pulls away and rolls over to look through his nightstand for a condom, “it wouldn’t be that bad?”

“You carry it then, seahorse it up,” she teased. “I like being back on my medicine, I need some time to be okay before I go through all that again.”

Once he’s all situated in the latex and back between her legs, he hovers over her, so close that their lips are touching ever so slightly. “I am fine if it’s just the three of us forever.”

“I’m not,” she smiles, “there will be 4 of us one day, just not today.”

With that, she’s pulling him into another kiss as he pushing inside. It’s a feeling she’s accustomed to but will never be used to, it’s a stretch that shouldn’t be as intoxicating as it is. She holds him closer as she plays with his tongue in her mouth.

He was so good at everything he did, especially the sex. He knew every single part of her body now and exactly how to push all her buttons the right way. She could live in the moment of his pumping in and out of her while his thumb circled her clit and his other hand groaned her breasts. Eventually, he kissed down her throat and she was a mess of breathy moans and low gasps.

Writing in the sheets, her legs wrap around him as she tried to pull him in even closer. It was impossible to get closer but he was still too far away, she wanted to absorb him and live in him forever. He was her safe place and she never wanted to be anywhere else.

As her orgasm bubbled, so did his. The both of them gasping and panting, she whined as she breached the edge and gripped his back, “Spence!”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispered before fucking into her harder and faster, pushing her through it as he reached his own.

His movements on her clit never stopped and suddenly one felt like two and she wasn’t sure when the rush was going to stop and she didn’t care when it did. It was powerful, soothing and euphoric. A high she could live in for a while and return to it without problem as long as she had him.

He came with a small moan, trying to keep quiet as he muffled it into her neck, stilling his hips on his last thrust and dropping onto her more. Her hands were all over his back as she pressed kisses to his forehead, coming down but not wanting the love to stop there.

The love was never going to stop there for them. Their love was never-ending, and somehow as she held him there in her arms and felt his breath on his neck, she turned to see the baby monitor with their peaceful child sound asleep down the hall, she loved him even more now somehow.

Loving Spencer Reid was like falling down a bottomless pit. She never knew when she was going to reach the end, but she was content with falling.

smut taglist: @g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[matchstickdolly]

Lucifer 5B: Cutting off Touch to Spite Your Fans

Spoiler warning: This post assumes you've watched all of Lucifer, season 5, part B.

CW: There's plenty I like about season 5, but this is a negative post. I know not everyone is up for negativity about the things they love. I also generally avoid it and (try to) keep my mouth shut about things I don’t like in most spaces. It’s good etiquette. But this is my space, and I have thoughts specifically about purity culture and the treatment of sexuality and trauma in fiction. You’ve been warned!

---

I'm a professional writer (not in TV). I've worked with enough bad clients, editors, and other writers to recognize some hallmark behaviors in how both Fox and Netflix gave Lucifer's writers incredibly difficult, unfair, and frankly weird situations to create through.

Fox did them dirty, interfering and ordering too many eps in S3. Netflix did them dirty, ordering 10 eps for S4 when it clearly needed ~13. Then Netflix ordered 10 "final" eps for S5—then, just kidding(!), 6 more after they'd done their writing for the 10. (What the fuck?) And then Netflix ordered 10 more for a "final-final" S6 after the writers had done their best to tell their whole story in S5. (MORE what the fuck.)

Talk about whiplash for creators, and half of those who consume content don't even care to understand such creative pain.

So, there are problems on multiple fronts. There's much I'll forgive writers, accordingly. I go into most shows expecting plotting/pacing issues. I look, instead, for characters and relationships that will triumph over those issues.

Heart is what the show Lucifer has always had in spades, both in its characters and in the immensely committed, wonderful ways the actors have tried to realize the characters' humor, love, trauma, and—most importantly—struggle to find healing. Yet, when given the opportunity to show health alongside another in a relationship, the writers/directors of 5B chose to remove most sexual humor and physical intimacy from their female lead and bi/pan characters to, I feel, sanitize them and troll fans. What happened?

Well, for one, say hi to showrunner Joe Henderson bragging about how the writers decided to be colossal dicks to the fans who helped secure their jobs:

From CBR's 'Lucifer Showrunner Joe Henderson Dissects Season 5B's Chaos'

Have we not suffered sidelined/repressed female characters, "bury your gays," and, oh, Chloe fucking a serial killer enough? Must we also say hello to neutered relationships once characters find stable love (whether same or opposite sex)? The result of withdrawing more sexual humor and physical intimacy from paired characters is an uncomfortable suggestion that they're reformed by "pure" love—more chaste and aloof, more acceptable in polite society. This is only done to end-game committed relationships.*

The writers seem to think they're edging the viewers, but the reality is they're taking traumatized minority characters who rejoiced in sexual freedom, but lacked and craved an emotional connection, and showing they can't have both, or, if they find both, it will never last. They've taken hypersexual characters and said, here, even they can have the love and commitment they desire, but some physical intimacy, especially sexual intimacy, is what they must trade for it.

There's always one more case, phone call, or coincidence interrupting intimacy. Traumas or deaths deserving emotional and physical comfort go on to receive none or only one aspect. Done sometimes, it's fine. Done always, it's sick. Dan dies, and there's no hugging? Really?†

Don't craft characters who crave a full range of emotional and physical intimacy, only to rob them of related scenes every chance you get. That's not complexity. That's bad writing. To even achieve this in 5B, they must squash banter and sideline their female lead yet again.

What a gift to purity culture, which tells us to be more palatable by bottling and buttoning up. That sex should be taboo, but violence glorified. That there is no heated desire among "Good Women," that sexual minorities of all genders shouldn't experience it much at all.

5A is so good. At the very least, it's on the right path (clearly, since the plot payoff from 5x01 to 5x16 is great). It shows a couple working through difficulties and trauma, toward each other emotionally and physically. It even pokes fun at people who think an established relationship means the death of romantic and sexual appeal (a tired and hugely sexist trope). And then... And then 5B reverses that, pretending established relationships are barely physical during emotional struggle and that the honeymoon phase doesn't exist. It robs characters of joy and comfort through physical intimacy when they need it to move through or push beyond trauma.

It's telling that so many fan wishes for Deckerstar are about healing touch and existing in each other's spaces: amending Chloe's spicy PDA history with Cain, Chloe caring for Lucifer's wings, soft family scenes a la Monopoly night and shared meals, morning-afters, etc. Reasonable fans aren't asking for porn; they're asking for connection and humanity. They're asking for writers not to forget characters (and, yes, including hypersexual characters) on their way from Point A to Point B.

That 5B lacks these things isn't a "tee-hee frustrating" slow burn or a cockblock. It is, in so many scenes, excising from characters a core part of what nearly every human and fictional monster craves. And it's a slap in the face to the "found family" trope. When you remove or tamp down a casual physical intimacy that was previously there, characters and their relationships fall flat, even if only partially. They become blunt weapons creators wield against watchers or readers begging for scraps of warmth.

Minorities shouldn't be killed off with ease, and they shouldn't be stifled with ease, either.‡ And maybe there shouldn't be deep trauma driving a wedge in a romantic relationship if you're not going to explore it through that relationship, too—physical intimacy included.

I'm still reserving some judgment. I loved the family drama and the end. (Although, again, where was the physical intimacy? No intimacy when Chloe or Lucifer return from the dead? Really?) I see where they could do awesome things, and could have done more if not for network BS.

But I no longer trust Lucifer's writers and directors. They thought S5 was the end. And what they gave us of Deckerstar, of the relationship that symbolizes health and healing in their fictional world, is this: cold distance. And they got a kick out of doing it, apparently.

If this is a "love letter" to me as a fan, I'm burning it. I can only hope S6 course corrects. If not, the writers who made these choices shouldn't write sexual minority and/or traumatized characters again. If you don't understand most of us, you should stop fucking using us.

---

* If you don't believe me about the differences between casual/short-term relationships and end-game relationships in Lucifer, go back and look at how Lucifer and Maze are with strangers in all the other seasons. Look at Chloe's sex dream, her propositioning of Lucifer in a library, her sex with Pierce in the evidence closet. Look at how much physical intimacy there is between Lucifer and Eve, and then between Eve and Maze (if only as a ploy). Across seasons, there are sex/kink jokes and scenes galore.

Compare this to how these same characters are portrayed when with their end-game loves. Notice the gentle pecks on the lips and the huge general drop in sexual humor between 5A and 5B. How boring. Where's the spice these characters had? Also, give me a damn break. Buttoning up in a relationship is contrary to four and a half seasons of emotional character work that's been communicating security in our relationships is personally freeing.

† I'm not just talking about sexual intimacy in this post, though that is a big part of it because of the characters. 5B lacked crucial found family scenes, too.

Chloe should have been at God's family dinner, but being so would have prevented more ham-fisted angst. Chloe never even has a one-on-one with God, probably because that would demand a straight answer about her miracle status, which I would guess will be used to drive yet another wedge between her and Lucifer next season, but we'll see.

In multiple before- and after-work scenes, there was no reason for Lucifer and Chloe to be apart more, even, than they were in S1 and S2. Monopoly night was in S3, for crying out loud. Most horrifying of all? No one touches Chloe after Dan's death, but Trixie. Meanwhile, Linda, Amenadiel, Ella, Maze, and Lucifer all receive physical comfort. No wonder Chloe's tired of being strong.

‡ If you don't think it's offensive that they stuffed all their wlw content for two hypersexual characters into a few clunky, irrational, and chaste scenes that rushed I love yous, a marriage-like proposal, and the mention of soulmates, I don't know what to tell you other than get off my lawn.

[skywise-earthloved]

STLT #221 Light One Candle (verse 3)

What is the memory that's valued so highly

That we keep it alive in that flame?

What's the commitment to those who have died

That we cry out they've not died in vain?

Have we come this far always believing

That justice would somehow prevail?

This is the burden, this is the promise

This is why we will not fail!

Don't let the light go out

It's lasted for so many years

Don't let the light go out

Let it shine through our love and our tears

[shadowknight465]

The heretic inside us all

I should, I shouldn't, I should, I shouldn't...

He whispered to himself while plucking the flower's petals. Maybe those things are lying to him, and because he has such a bad reputation, he doesn't know if he should talk to the Priest about them. Maybe if he does it would be another excuse for the Priest to tell more lies about him. Then again that Priest was creeping at one of his secret students. Making her feel uncomfortable. Or if he goes to detail on what those things look like he'll probably give him the answer, and maybe some holy charms to ward them off. Whatever the case is he has to do it at midnight to not draw any attention. But first he has to tell Dream, so he wouldn't be worried. He went back to his house feeling lucky that it's a Sunday. When he got home he instantly made himself some lunch and went to the well for a drink. He may not be a religious person, but Sunday is his favorite day. Where he can be alone for once, he knows the Bible well, but the real reason why he stopped becoming a Christian devoted man was because God never answered his prayers, and he saw how people use their religion as an excuse for being horrible people, and he doesn't want to be just like them. Still he can't change their perspective of things, and it will kept that way. He was probably asleep when Dream came back, because when he woke up the first thing he saw was the face of a green caterpillar. He slowly got up, and asked Dream what time it was. To which his brother pouted saying Nightmare can never be scared. Nightmare sighs with annoyance, and asks Dream what time it is again. Dream blinked, "Oh! Umm.. I didn't check the sundial, or in this case the moon-dial?" As Dream collects his thoughts, Nightmare walks to the sundial room. Midnight. Perfect. Nightmare grabbed his cloak, took off his crown, put the mysterious book under his shirt, and told Dream that he'll be back in five minutes.

He hope that even the Priest can help him about his supernatural encounters.  Who knows maybe the Priest will help him.  He went outside, and silently walked to the church building, later knocking on the door. "Come in my child are you trying to get closer the Lord, or are you committed a sin for me to give you forgiveness-Oh it's you." The priest said as he open the door. Nightmare doesn't need to look at him in the eye to know that the priest hate him with every ounce of his being. "I didn't came for either of those things, I just want to tell you that I've been supernatural encounters with ghostly creatures." Nightmare explained. He's wished that he told his brother earlier, but Dream will probably think he's insane. "What kind of ghostly encounters you demon?" The Priest ask with a bitter taste in his beak.  "Ghosts that are telling me that I'm their king or emperor-whatever the case is of their realm." Nightmare explained.

"Which is?" The Priest asked suspiciously.

"The Necro empire-" The Priest put his left-wing on Nightmare's head. "If this creature lied, then may God strike him dead." The Priest commanded to God. Nothing happened. "I guess you were telling the truth after all, and I never thought I will say this to a disgusting demon like you, but I'm afraid that even I can't help you."

"H-how come?" Nightmare started to get worried. "Because I know what the creatures are, but we banned all knowledge of them for this good village safety."

"And why is that? What they will do?" Nightmare pleaded for answers.

"They causes pain to those who has hurt you, and cause greater pain to the  people who had hurt you unintentionally. There's got to be a reason why they're doing this unless..."  The Priest turned to Nightmare. "You haven't sold your soul to the devil have you?"

Nightmare was shocked with disgust. "No, I haven't."

"Are you sure? Because the only way they can come back is if you sold your soul to these devils." The Priest explains. "I swear your holiness I didn't sell anything to the devils." Nightmare pleaded. "LIES!" The Priest voice boomed the building. "AND I BET THAT THE TRUE REASON THAT GOD DIDN'T STRUCK YOU DEAD JUST THAT EVEN HE HAS FORGOTTEN YOUR WRETCHED SOUL!" Nightmare dropped to his knees for he cannot stand the loud noises, one of the biggest reasons he hates going to church. "ARE YOU CRYING BECAUSE ITS TRUE?!" The Priest yelled at him. Nightmare, while trying his best to calm himself down pleaded. "N-No pictures I-I can't stand the booming sounds..."

"EXCUSES!" The Priest yelled. "N-No it's true." Nightmare tries to defend himself with words.

"GUARDS! GUARDS! TAKE THIS HEINOUS BEAST AND PUT HIM INTO THE CELL!" Nightmare heard The holy man yelled. He can feel the guards strong grip as his eyes were closed the entire time.

What has he put himself into?

~~~~~

Morning has arrived as Nightmare open his eyes blinded by the sun's harsh light, and felt a hard cold surface on his lower legs. He quickly regain his focus, and saw he was in the middle of a courtroom. People gathered all around him. Some were smiling, probably to see the torture. He seen one-too many courts to know what's going to happen to him. As he scanned around the room he felt a negative aura and headed straight towards it, seeing Dream crying.

Maybe it was a bad idea at all...

He thought to himself. "Nightmare." A deep voice echoed the room. Nightmare turned to the voice and in the minute he saw the court robes, he knew what this means. And knew there was no chance of him winning.

"So, Nightmare you were always the questionable person in this entire village, and for that we leave you alone," The judge begins his speech.

Lies...

Nightmare thought as he gave the jury a death glare.

"But now our holy man said that you sold your soul to beings that should not be named."

"I'm was telling the truth..." He mutters to himself. 

"What was that you say?"  The judge ask. Nightmare look up.

"Well?" The judge ask getting a little more impatient.

Nightmare sigh figures if he's going to be on trail he might as well try to prove himself to be innocent. "I said I was telling the truth." Nightmare repeated himself. "And why should we believe you." The Priest asked glaring at him, Nightmare didn't need to see the smile to know that the priest was enjoying this. "Should I get someone to defend me while all of you are against me?" Nightmare asked reminding everyone of the rules when it comes to trials. "In trials like this the defendant doesn't need to be defended." The judge explains to him. It wasn't a huge surprise for Nightmare. Which he couldn't care less. He does care that his brother has to be in the court room however and who knows if they've lie to Dream that he can't be defending Nightmare. "Anymore questions you want to ask before we get started Nightmare?" The judge asked to him. Nightmare shook his head. "Then let the trial begin." The judge announce.

"Nightmare you have been accused of selling your soul to they who shall not be named, is that true?" He said. Nightmare kept his head down, not because he was angry he's just uncomfortable of talking to strangers in the eye. "About the accused? Yes. But about the story? No." Nightmare replies. "So why do you have this book our holy man found underneath your shirt?" The judge asked. Nightmare had forgotten about it. "I was going to ask him about the strange book. Because it keeps saying things about the dead and the Moon King, including the value of lives." Nightmare told to court. "And where did you found it?" The judge asked. Nightmare kept quiet knowing they'll destroy one of his safe place if he told them. "ANSWER ME!" The judge voice echo the room. "It appeared out of nowhere." Nightmare partly told the truth. Then, one of the gaurds came up to Nightmare; towering over him as Nightmare was tied down. And with brute strength the guard throw punches and kicks at him. Then as if command, rips Nightmare's shirt partly to expose some already broken ribs, later grabbed one of them and ripped it out of Nightmare's chest. Nightmare screamed in agony, and losing black blood all over the floor. "Black blood..., so you are evil." Nightmare heard the judge over his pain. "I was just born with it, so it doesn't mean anything." Nightmare tries to reason while still in pain. The Judge and the guard both nodded while looking at each other. He had seen this before, and knows it isn't good. The Guard went to the back to come back later with a war hammer, and raise it over his head. Nightmare had to close his eyes to try to imagine he's in a different situation. And he would have succeeded if the hammer wasn't so fast when it hit the right side of his skull. Now half blinded he try to find Dream in the crowd, but couldn't see him. All he could see on his right side is black with a hot yet cold substance over the side of his skull. He tries to reason with himself to where his brother could be, till he heard two bronze doors slammed. "Do I need to go on with your crimes?" The judge asked. Nightmare was in so much pain that he couldn't hear what the judge, or anyone is saying. "Your silence has answered at all." The judge calmly said. "You were accused of kidnapping children, and teach them about witchcraft. Is that true?" Nightmare heard as his pain ease for a bit. "I would never kidnap a child, and I wasn't teaching them about witchcraft I was teaching them about how to read and write; something that you wouldn't dare do." Nightmare answered with disgust. He may known a bit of magic himself, but those are white magic he has been using, not black magic. "We have a church Nightmare," The judge reply. "and that is all what the children need to know." He continued. "Well maybe some kids wanted to know how to read the Bible on their own, and how write their names." Nightmare respond. "But you did kept a little boy, and didn't bring him back till the next day." The judge remind. "I was worried about his mom would do to him after his dad died. And I saw how she treated him after the funeral such as, blaming him over her husband's death when it was clearly not his fault. And later told him that he should replace his father." Nightmare explains. "Am I not allowed to worry about my neighbors' safety? Do I need to tell everyone that our strongest man try to commit rape to a little girl?" Nightmare reasoned with the court. "He would never do it, but you would." Nightmare heard someone, but he ignored it. "I also have met a few children who had heartbreaking stories such as, one little girl who was forced to touch our priest in areas that made her feel uncomfortable, as she could do nothing about it."

"That still doesn't give you the excuse on practicing witchcraft..." The judge reminded. "The so-called witchcraft I practiced wasn't meant to harm people it was meant to heal. And are we forgetting that we also have Wiccans in our village?" He said. "I'm going to ask you another question then," The judge reply. "Is all of this true about what you are saying?"

Nightmare look at floor from the tiredness, and the pain he was in. "Yes. All that I have said is the truth." Nightmare responded. "One last question Nightmare." The judge asked. This was at the point he knows it's hopeless, and does not care about the visions he started seeing about the Village being burned to the ground. Because all he cares now; is if anyone will listen to him. Or at least tries too.

"Are you afraid of God and his heavenly angels?"

Nightmare with all his strength look at the judge with his good eye-socket, and said in the most calm firm voice. "No. I'm not afraid of any supernatural being of extraordinary powers, because I know the real monsters are all of you."

A moment of silence had filled of room.

"You're an absolute liar, Nightmare." The judge reply with a sick, twisted voice. "And now you shall be sentence to death in front of our very eyes by one of God's angels." As a window flies open leading in a creature that is known as a throne. As it hovers in front Nightmare with its blinding light. Nightmare could see a naked man made out of light. Still not scare for his own life for once. He said to the angel. "I'm not afraid of you, or your God." To his, and everyone else's surprise. The throne breaks the Nightmare chains, and cleans up his spilled blood, later giving him back the mysterious book. Nightmare stood up with all the strength he got, and walk out of the church to be hugged by Dream who is sobbing because he didn't do anything to help him. "Brother?..." Nightmare asked in a weak voice.  Now seeing flashes of his memories. "Yes, Moon?" Dream asked crying over his shoulder. "I need to go back to the in-hill.." Nightmare said as he collapsed. Hearing an echoey distance of his brother calling out his name.

~~~~~~~~~

It was dark again with the same old spirit orbs hovering around him. "Let me guess: It's my time to go." Nightmare smile as he look down. He honestly never thought that he'll have to die like that. It's not like he could control fate anyways. "Actually, this isn't your time yet." A orb reply. "So why are all of you around me? Is it something I had to deal with every time I shut my eyes?" Nightmare asked. "No. We came to tell you about the weapon waiting for you in the ruins."

"Ruins?" Nightmare questioned.

"Yes, the ruins. Of the Celestial half-demons."

Nightmare remember the urban legend that's been spread around for 200 years. About the beginnings in the fall that ruins. About how 12 celestial succubi has seduce 12 powerful heroes, and gave up the daughters to their victims as soon as they were born.  And how the heroes had to give them up so an old man who claims to know celestial beings which includes raising them. The old man then raise, and turn them into 12 types of heroes. Hoping that one of them will become his wife. Unfortunately the old man turns into an abuser as the girls grew up, and start falling in love with each other. Well except for one who thinks she's a boy and is the lunar witch. As if his abuse wasn't enough, she was almost forced into a relationship by the sun paladin, who is in love with her. By making everyone else abuse her to the point they killed her only friend an black owl griffin. All so she can become the witch lover. It unfortunately cause her to lash out on everyone, and ran away to be killed by the old man. And just when you think it's over it turns out the old man killed, and trap the others into their own weapons. Now possessed the weapon they used to wield; they now have no choice, but to wait for a new master. So would that mean Nightmare is gonna have the witch as his weapon?

"I'm not using someone as a weapon." Nightmare said.

"Not like that Nightmare. We mean the warlock, even as a spirit possessing his own weapon can create your weapon." They reasoned with him. Nightmare is sort of satisfied they didn't misgender the warlock like everyone else who had heard about the legend. Nightmare sigh and thought about it. If he agrees, then he'll have to go to the ruins to maybe meet a few of the trapped ghosts, and might died before getting the chance to get it. But if he doesn't they'll probably summon the warlock, and turn him into his slave.

Nightmare took a deep breath. "I'll go to the ruins."

"That's what we like to hear." The orbs said as a blinding light flashes.

~~~~~~~~~

Nightmare woke up again. This time he's in a bathtub with Dream right by his side. From the tear stains on Dream's face; he could tell his brother had been crying a lot.

I shouldn't have let him see me like this.

Nightmare thought as he sigh. Causing Dream to wake up. "You're finally awake." He said this time crying with tears of happiness. "How long have I been asleep?" Nightmare asked. Noticing how dirty the room looked. "Four whole days. I had to have that fire ring thing to help me to not let you die." Dream responded expressing his joy and frustration. "Dream?..." Nightmare said calmly. "YES?!" Dream excitedly replied. "That fire ring thing is called a throne, one of God's highest angels." Nightmare replies with a laugh. "BROTHER YOU NEARLY DIED! YOU SHOULDN'T LAUGH!" Dream yelled in a worry tone. "Sorry, I just can't believe that you forgot one of the legends I told you as a bedtime story ." Nightmare calms down.

"Also, Dream?" Nightmare asked. "Yes?" Dream looked up.

"STILL ALIVE!" Nightmare cheered proudly. "STILL ALIVE!" Dream followed. Nightmare then notice the book Dream has in his hands. "So you found it, huh?" Nightmare reminded Dream. Dream nodded. "I can only make out a few of the words, but I wanna ask you you something." Dream replies. "What is it?" Nightmare asked. "That stick with a crescent moon on it, and the guy in the nun outfit holding it. I saw pictures of how he reaps souls like the Grim Reaper, but there's also some pictures where he heals souls. Like this picture with a disturbing fire creature in it." Dream pointed at the image where it shows the so-called Moon king comforting the fire creature in like it a crying child. "Do you think the creature might evil?" Dream asked. His eyes turned to Nightmare. Nightmare vision turns into a flash. This time seeing the flaming creature crying with Nightmare's hand is touching his cheek bone. "I-I just wanted to g-give you justice.." He said with a voice that sounds similar to Dream, but is overlapping with someone else's. And the smell of his breath is like burnt alcohol. Yet, somehow Nightmare felt that he knew why smelt like that. Just as the flash appeared it disappeared revealing a striking similarity between the creature's face, and Dream's face. "Brother, did you have another vision where you are comforting someone?" Dream asked waking Nightmare up from his thoughts. Nightmare nodded while catching his brother staring at his still-healing ribs. "I'm sorry that you had to witness to trial." Nightmare apologize, trying to figure out if Dream was part of the jury, or if he just snuck in without being detected. "It's not your fault, Nightmare. I heard rumors about you being taken as a prisoner, and I just came to see if it's true. And when I saw you getting beat up, and you nearly losing your right eye socket, I ran away because I was too scared." Dream confesses. "Actually it was my fault if I haven't come to the priest; None would happen." Nightmare reminded Dream. "Also I think you should enough tears for a few days. You should go to get some sleep." Nightmare suggested. Dream nodded as he walked back to his own bedroom. Nightmare took a look at the place where one of his ribs that got ripped off was on a table right next to him with a note reading. "Put it back on him as soon as he wakes up." Nightmare guesses it was probably meant for Dream. So he put it back to its original place and wait for the water to heal it.

I survive yet again..

Nightmare thought as he relaxes in the bath. Nightmare looks around to find his journal which had a few scratch and bite marks on it indicating Dream might've tried to read it. Nightmare then chuckled as he opens it with a charm spell, finds a quill and begans writing.

June 26 , 1517

It had been a while since I wrote the last entry, and it was because I try talking to the priest about my visions plus the supernatural encounters, but I ended up getting trialed, and was tortured there. Royal guards beat me up, and they trying to destroy my skull with a Warhammer. And unfortunately my brother, Dream had to see it. They all try to sentence me to death by an throne's hand, but the throne has shown mercy on me. Maybe it's because even God is disgusted by most of the village actions. When I fell unconscious after the trial. The strange beings told me to go to the celestial half-demons ruins where I can get my weapon from the moon warlock. Now thinking about it me in the warlock almost have the same origin story ,but I don't want to end up like him. Or be a vengeful spirit of any kind. Sometimes I believe that we're all heretics, one way or another. Including our holiest men, The Priest and The Judge.

He then put the quill down, and took another shut eye. Without having to worried about death again.

[kylandara]

A very interesting take. I would sadly agree Jon fell from grace, because whether political Jon is true or not, he enable Dany this far to cause the destruction she did. Not that Dany doesn’t get the max blame, but Jon has his share for his own soul. I can almost imagine his PTSD when this is all over. Onwards

——————-

The hysterical reactions to Dany’s dark turn were initially amusing to me because I enjoy suffering, but as this week has gone on, I have grown more disconcerted by 8x05 myself. I am not an emotional person by nature, but each day I am more agitated by the episode rather than less. I didn’t know exactly why it bothered me so much until I realized that I was running through the same stages of grief that Dany stans were.

Both of us lost our heroes.

I had been laughing about Dany stans not seeing where her arc was going when there is ample foreshadowing in books and show as pointed out in articles, metas, posts on Reddit, answers here on Quora, YouTube videos, wherever it is you go for GoT fan content, Dark Dany has been discussed. I thought the proof was so overwhelming that to not see it meant you were in denial.

I did not know I was in denial myself.

I thought Dany stans were watching a different show than the rest of us.

The truth is, I was watching a different show than some of you.

As much as this has frustrated me to no end, I think it has been the greatest success of GoT that D&D have exposed us to ourselves. Or at least, it would be if we pulled ourselves away from our feelings long enough to acknowledge what’s been staring us in the face the whole time.

Dany was not the only hero who fell from grace Sunday. I have been grieving for my own.

Dany burned thousands, tens of thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands of people Sunday, a horrific and inevitable event.

My hero stood by and watched. Worse, my hero knew it was likely to happen and enabled her. Even worse, my hero marched his men South to help her. And still worse than that, when Varys looked him in the eyes and said they knew what was going to happen, Jon refused to even try to stop her.

My hero did not commit the inexcusable evil that Dany did (Yes, EVIL. Yes, INEXCUSABLE.) But my hero did not take a stand. My hero was not heroic. My hero stood by helplessly while children were burned alive. How harshly did I condemn Stannis and the Red Woman for burning Shireen because I loved her? How harshly should I then condemn Dany for the same crime tens of thousands of times over? How harshly did I judge Stannis’ enablers for not stopping him? How harshly must I then judge Jon for not doing something, anything before Dany burned King’s Landing?

Dany stans justified every life she took before 8x05. I justified every life Jon had taken. No, there is no moral equivalence between those, but on Sunday, both committed wrongs that there is no justifying. Again, there is no moral equivalence between Dany’s actions and Jon’s inaction, but I realized my emotions as a Jon fan have been paralleling to a much subtler degree, Dany fans.

They are shrieking about bad writing and OOC behavior, and I have been saying much the same of Jon. But, maybe I was just as deluded as they were, believing what I want rather than paying attention to what I was seeing.

I thought the Battle of Winterfell was bad writing. I didn't think D&D were actually trying to tell us something about Jon, but maybe they were. Yes, his strength is uniting people, but if they are being led by the wrong person, it is meaningless to do so. As seen on Sunday, the wrong leader leads to madness.

The events of 8x05 may be the narrative punishment for Jon not taking up his crown with further spiraling yet to come, or, perhaps it was the rock bottom of him refusing his destiny and what we witnessed is what motivates him to rise up. We might see him well and truly defeated in the finale by what he has participated in, or he might take a stand.

Either way, I don't think this season has been the total destruction of his character I initially thought it was. I think what we’re seeing is writers allowing a hero to suffer the emotional and psychological impact of what he's been through. I wish they would let us experience it with him, I wish they would have give us more that a rare glimpse, but just because I wanted something different doesn't mean they weren't being purposeful.

I resent what they've done because they took my hero from me and gave me a broken man. That's too realistic for me to enjoy, and I wanted to enjoy this season, not suffer through it. I did not want my vision of a victorious hero thwarted for anything. And that’s when it hits me. This is why it hurts. I can either morally compromise myself to pretend like Jon wasn’t wrong, or I have to allow my hero to fall.

Many were upset by Jaime returning to Cersei because we bought into his version of himself as a man escaped from his captor. We thought he had become good. We wanted him to be with Brienne. Yet, how can we objectively say that staying with a new lover is the morally superior choice to trying to save the life of the woman who bore his children? The woman who was pregnant with his child? In falling from grace in the eyes of Braime shippers, Jaime made the right choice.

Jaime is a better person for having died trying to save Cersei than he would have been had he chosen to fulfill his own selfish desire to let her die alone. He wasn’t good enough for Brienne before, he certainly wouldn’t have been if he had let his child die without attempting to save it. In breaking the hearts of shippers and fans around the world, D&D (damn them for making me appreciate them after I decided I didn’t!) turned Jaime into a morally superior character in 8x05 than the Breaker of Chains. A guy who pushed a child from the window attempted to save life while our Khaleesi took it.

Just because we have a version of a character in our head and a path for them to follow, just because we know what we want and are upset when we don’t get it, doesn’t make it better. Jaime chose better for himself than we would have chosen for him. Shame on us for being so morally incompetent that we didn’t recognize it immediately. By leaving her and trying to rescue Cersei, Jaime was closer to deserving Brienne than he ever had been before.

Another surprise in the episode is that The Hound had more moral clarity than Arya. The Hound who murdered for a living became the voice of sanity when he told Arya that if she followed where he led she would only find death. He told her to choose life even when he couldn’t. Arya listened, she chose to put aside vengeance and preserve life rather than take it. And here, we, the audience had been cheering her quest for vengeance, only to then cheer on the new decision, because we are led by our emotions and dumber for it. The Hound had better morals than we did. THE HOUND.

Cersei, that power crazed woman was just another victim. The bells rang and Dany burned them all anyway. And all the Dany stans who are finding ways to excuse, rationalize, or simply crying out “character assassination” are just in denial. Your hero failed the test of basic humanity because she has always wanted to. Her first instinct has consistently been to burn and destroy, she’s just always happened to have someone holding her back before.

That’s not bad writing. That’s making your audience question what we’ve been accepting and reject what characters say about themselves and think critically about what we have witnessed with our own eyes. It’s mental torture, but it’s the right kind of subversive because there are threads we can find that were always going to lead us here.

Some of us had been condemning Cersei and cheering on a woman who was essentially doing the same things. We just didn’t recognize it because we didn’t want to. Because Dany was framed as a hero, and we all know Cersei is a villain, we didn’t stop and think about what Dany has been doing for years and ask if it was right.

Jon didn’t know as much about Dany as we did. Maybe he hadn’t heard of what Dany did before coming to Westeros. Perhaps he didn’t fully comprehend what happened during the loot train attack, but he saw her talking about wanting to burn the Red Keep in s7, he saw what dragons were capable of beyond the Wall and during the Battle for Winterfell, he heard his queen threaten Sansa’s life for the horrible crime of asking what they were going to feed the armies. And yet, he refused to ever question her.

I don’t know that he had a good alternative, but Varys chose to defy the queen and die rather than take part in her plans. Jon refused to help him. Was Jon being a fool or was he being cunning? I still don’t know, but either way, he stood by while an innocent man burned. Either way, he did nothing. Nothing is never the best you can do. Except, nothing is what humans do all the time. I was prepared for Jon to lie, to be sneaky, to outsmart and use people. I was not prepared for that. I wanted clean margins around my hero, and they didn't give them to me.

People wanted Jaime to kill Cersei because we all know she’s evil, never mind the fact that Jaime has done his fair amount of evil, never mind that she was carrying his child. We don’t mind evil, we just don’t want it to upset us. In our heads, murdering Cersei was fine, but hurting Brienne wasn’t. We accept the grey, the dishonorable, the bad, but only when it’s in line with what we want.

I wanted Jon to be darker this season than the Jon we’ve had before, but I wanted it to be in line with the hero’s journey. I wanted it to be justifiable. I didn’t want it to be in the form of a mistake. I didn’t want it to be him misjudging the character of his queen. I didn’t want it to be at the cost of the lives of countless children.

I was willing for Jon to stray from the hero’s pretty, pretty path just enough to make it interesting, not enough for it to matter. This was a detour I did not expect, that I can’t just ignore, and that is a brilliant move by the writers. Oh geez, I’ve just complimented D&D again. Someone save me!

Jon, no matter what he does next, is stained in blood. He can’t be the hero I wanted him to be, there is no erasing this mistake. I didn't want him to fall prey to a cult of personality, I didn't want him to be stupid. I still don't believe he’s a total idiot, but while I watched 8x05 I took notes and when I reviewed them, I sounded like two different people. One screaming at Jon for being a moron, the other entirely sympathetic because he didn't have a choice. Both views were guided by my emotions. Whether he fell in love and was in denial or if Pol Jon is true and he believed he had no choice, Jon was complicit.

Either because he allowed love to blind him, or desperation to take over, while I still have hope for him, I can't deny what I saw. I hated seeing Jon as he is now: a man made less than what he is. He isn’t the hero I had fabricated in my head. I didn’t even know I had done that, but I had. This isn’t what I wanted. It’s not how the story is supposed to go.

But it is how this story went.

I wanted the fairytale. I wanted Jon to be untouched by what Dany did. I wanted him to remain innocent. I didn’t want him to be weak. I didn’t want him to fall. I wanted him to be above this.

But on Sunday our heroes fell.

What happens when they fall?

We can deny, excuse, insist its solely bad writing, claim it’s OOC, or we can accept that we are simply upset because it isn’t what we wanted. The second step is to acknowledge that this is what it means to have morally grey characters. This is the realism in fantasy GoT has always been touted for, we just never had to suffer so much for it all at once. We never had to face the reality that our heroes aren’t pure goodness, our villains aren’t pure evil with such high stakes before. It’s one thing for Jon to miscalculate and be murdered by his men, it’s another for him to not prevent a city of people from burning alive.

The “grey character” idea only works if you still recognize good and evil. We can’t twist right and wrong to make sure our heroes are always in the clear. Grey characters does not mean we should be morally colorblind. It means that the good and bad still exist, but that both reside in each character and in each of us. We have to choose how to act, and in certain situations, we will wander closer to one side than the other. It’s saying, let’s make heroes falter and villains sympathetic and force ourselves to see ourselves in what we hate, and what we hate within ourselves.

We had seen the good side of Dany intermingled with the bad, but the bad emerged in an unprecedented way on Sunday, and suddenly now we know that how we had masked it was always about protecting our own feelings, not about understanding who that character was at her core. Some in the audience have found strength in Dany, and to see her fall tore at parts of themselves that she had impacted.

Jon is still lighter grey than Dany, but on Sunday, I saw a streak of something repugnant to me, something that is the natural fallout of Jon’s behavior all season, but I had been ignoring it. Before this season aired, I expected victorious Jon. Now I think, even if Jon survives, I don't know how he'll live.

It is shocking to me how much it hurts to let go of my delusions and think, this is it. This is what all those words I’ve been spouting off about complex characters mean, and now I have to accept it. I have to “Look the truth in the face” as Sansa says, and as silly as it is since it is a tv show, it genuinely hurts! To a certain as yet to be quantified amount, Tyrion and Jon refused to do this. To a greater extent, Dany stans refused to.

I refused to.

So, what do we do when our heroes fall?

We must choose to be heroic ourselves. We acknowledge the truth. No more complaints or excuses. Our heroes fell last Sunday because this is that story.

I mentioned in a previous answer that I had a general feeling of defeat this season, and I think this is why. Jon has been slipping off the pedestal, and I have been trying to keep him up there anyway. Whether Jon was a “Northern Fool” or unsuccessful “Political Jon,” he isn’t the man I wanted him to be. D&D emphatically knocked him off his hero perch Sunday. Silly to be so attached to keeping him there, but I was. Emotionally, I was depending on my hero to make it all better. Maybe the point is, there is no hero who can?

Dany climbed too high and fell too far. She isn’t coming back from this. In my eyes, Jon hasn’t. D&D just made him fallible. He made a grave error and thousands upon thousands of people paid for it. I thought he would rise up a hero and prevent this, but there was nothing in this season to indicate that he could or would, and when the time came, he didn’t. I didn’t expect to see consequences for his “My Queen” routine, heroes don’t usually suffer those, but it is right that Jon see where that leads. It is good that we see it.

I think that’s what I’ve been mourning. I wanted hero Jon, not human Jon. Seeing Jon stand there with Drogon over his shoulder while Varys burned was very upsetting. I couldn’t reconcile it with who I thought Jon was, but that’s because I was thinking in the traditional sense of hero. In other books and shows, that wouldn’t happen. But, Jon made a series of choices that led to his presence and inability to do anything at Sunday night’s slaughter. Based on his decisions this season, Jon’s fate of standing there while people were murdered was just as inevitable as Dany’s fate of being the one to burn them.

It is much harder on the audience to endure this kind of story, but GoT has never tried to be easy. I didn’t want this, but it’s okay to not always get what we want. It’s okay for the writers to crack my rose-colored glasses.

Regardless of my misconceptions, in spite of his mistakes, Jon is still Jon. I still have faith in him. He’s just not impervious to failure, and somehow, I had forgotten that. And, for the first time, I genuinely do not know what the cost of this will be. That’s why I am so disturbed. I don’t want Jon to suffer, but his inaction may require narrative punishment. Maybe what we witnessed is the only catalyst that would force him to do what he needs to do, but it may be his mental and emotional undoing.

I don’t want that. I am uneasy after this episode because for the first time, I am genuinely wondering if I was wrong all along. Maybe this story isn’t building up to Jon defeating all odds, maybe the odds defeat him. So, instead of insisting that the writers are wrong, I am wondering what story it is they are telling. Is this a story about what it takes to make a man who can survive the game? Is it about a man who refused to play the game and will therefore be punished? Is it about a man who tried to play the game and learns that there is no winning without losing? Is the point that there is no winning at all?

I don’t know anymore.

So, in this, I have sympathy for the other side of the fandom that has broken hearts this week. And it isn’t entirely because D&D made bad choices, wrote this season poorly, should have had a longer season. I am upset because I am not liking the story they are telling me. I am not sure that that is anyone’s problem but my own for not recognizing what this was from the beginning. I’m still hopeful, I don’t know what we will see in the finale, but I have to accept that my hero fell on Sunday, and I don’t know if he will get back up. He could, but it is possible that he won’t

[jdmainman123]

As we stated these are the men and boys who got off in life telling other people what they're going to do to their families

If they ever come here 24/7 just getting off by threatening these people's family

AA AND AGAIN SINCE IT WAS DECLARED IN COURT IF SOMEONE'S ABOUT TO DIE THEY DON'T HAVE TO BE AFRAID AND BLEEDING

But you guys want me to be afraid to die

Black men can't please women came back for the report every single black man couldn't please win me for this report what they did to the little girl's p**** is just an examination of what they've been trying to cover up about the little white skin boy penises whatever it is a satellite maker wanted in any act

That no other City would spend time to cut off a little white skin boy penises

AND AGAIN THEY GOT VERY ANGRY IN COURT WHEN WE SAID THEY DON'T HAVE TO BE AFRAID TO DIE AND THEN THEY KIDNAP ME TO THIS AND I'M SORRY WE HAVE TO THIS BLACK FAMILY SO HELL BENT ON SABOTAGE THEY WILL SAY THE INCIDENCES OF MISSISSIPPI they would say he couldn't feel the science of it being right or wrong

And I'm just saying for these tiny buildings and these tiny cities if you guys to give me the same report and lie over satellite give me the same statements in line trying to unionize sunrise by statement the little black boys would make about these incidences

That's right every day and sunrise one of those little n***** boys or girls says I know of any act satellite maker we killed him here

And again we believe this this n***** dead daughter family the world wouldn't be daughter

It would be satellites in Satellite maker seems to be the only reason why these boys and men showed up to call themselves satellite makers and we believe this is another mental retardation a brain dead profiling and behavior tool

Of of only idiots with a dead daughter would show up for this

So besides the word satellite in these f****** retards walking around me saying they're satellite maker trying to make me afraid when they're the only ones that love their father is the point I don't have a father to fear they all have a father of the fear it's just like a white skin boy standing extra black skin boys trying to support him into loving the white skin man a little more than the white skin boy

And and I know no man was specific to not every man is bleeding and afraid before he dies z AND THAT'S RIGHT WHERE WE CATEGORIZE YOUR DAUGHTER DEAD BECAUSE THIS LITTLE BOY COULDN'T TAKE CARE OF HER BORN SICK COULDN'T BELIEVE HER ALL SHE WANTED WAS GOOD HARD DICK FOR THE FIRST 7 YEARS OF HER LIFE AND NEED TO BE MURDERED BUT THIS LITTLE BOY IS BORN SICK AND WE BELIEVE IT CARRIED OVER TO THE STREETS SHE DIED AND NOW ONLY THE LITTLE BOY IS LISTENING TO THIS MAN CRY 24/7 WE BELIEVE SHE COULDN'T LISTEN TO THIS MAN CRY AND SHE WAS KILLED OR COMMIT SUICIDE AND NOW THE BOYS ARE FORCED TO LISTEN TO THIS MAN CRY 2Z47

And again just because it continued brainwashing me over time ago I realize it was just them lying to me but since everything got quiet and there there sabotaging themselves in a manifesto

That we believe we do believe no girls went down this road with them I think it was just all boys all blackskin man in the city for little boys should be all you guys need for this report a black skin father in charge of all these little white skin boys AND THEN THEY'RE GOING TO SAY BOOM I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED THERE

Guess it was your little girl was pronounced dead when we came out the statement you don't have to be bleeding and afraid to die

That's black man can't please women are satellite maker cannot feed his wife and daughter his dick this is very specific to this city having no shame in cutting off little white skin boys dicks

Seems like you're any ax satellite maker here born and raised only dream was going outside on the bus and getting his dick sucked by a little girl zza

Yeah that's what that's what the report told us he was very angry about b******* outside and he dragged down every satellite operator white skin with him

Yes it is where your girl died you don't have to be afraid to die turns out she was screaming rape me I want you to kill me and she had her legs wide open and her fingers in her p**** and it was dripping wet so she wasn't afraid at all she was screaming stabbed me stabbed me I never felt it I want to feel this Rush I'm glad you did it

And once again she was pronounced dead when she found out she had to be afraid before death which would make her sick but all the girls here are born sick you know for you guys to tell me the girls were born sick starting in the rebuild of the s******* City

Oh now I get it but now it's not like making started making his own retarded kids a long time ago

[fathersappointed]

Damon mentally attacked by the Devil! Another victim of the Devil, when will you see, this isn’t a fantasy!

Damon T. Berry,  is an American film director, screenwriter, and producer known for writing and directing, “The Knowledge Of The Forever Time. Damon is trained in the entertainment fields and that’s reflected in how he presents his videos. unfortunately, you get a lot of narrative with his presentations in his attempt to make it entertaining as well as educational. “The Knowledge Of The Forever Time” He talks about the pyramids like he’s exposing hidden knowledge. But Orion’s Belt in association with the pyramids has been known for a long time. These Pyramids have been analyzed backward and forwards, upside down, they’ve been weighed, measured, counted, divided, multiplied, longitude, latitude, they’ve been looked at from every angle by numerous people some with intense fanaticism, you can be sure of that. What you are experiencing in these videos is not unknown and hidden knowledge, it is the Devil working the Extra-Terrestrial angle once again! As I’ve stated in a previous post the Devil is not propagating extraterrestrials just for something to say, this is a well-thought-out vital component of his total plan. There are a lot of falsehoods in what this man sincerely presents; one is the afterlife. People who died that committed evil, do not get demonic powers that can possess and manipulate you this is a blatant lie! This is their (devil) contempt pushing the envelope!

He speaks of hidden knowledge! But, it’s not what he is saying, that’s hidden secret knowledge! The secret knowledge is, The chair of power! This is a signature stamp of authenticity, this is a telltale sign that he is being assaulted! The Devil is breaching his mind using the chair of power! For those of you who have not seen any of my posts on the chair of power. What I am speaking of is appropriated technology, that the Devil and the betrayers have in their possession. This technology is extremely powerful and damaging used primarily for the manipulation of the intended victims and their emotions! Crying and crying, he couldn’t stop his emotions, he couldn’t get control of his emotion! He fell to his knees, crying and crying and then he professed God! And then he saw a vision of two Angels coming to him and appearing to take his soul from him. With his emotions being intensified, he was overcome and started a crying fit again. After this encounter he went home, he starts to explain that he lays down to go to sleep, within a very short time he’s woken up! This again is a common ploy of the Devil’s, deprivation of sleep, mental manipulation, he starts seeing visions again. Damon starts talking to his cousin trying to explain what’s happened. His cousin and his family have no understanding of what he’s experiencing? This is understandable, the Religious community, like the rest of the World, have no understanding of what is actually happening, or the manipulative powers the devil possesses. The chair of power is a weapon he uses selectively when the intention is to keep the victim alive! The Devil is extremely vindictive and sick, he uses this technology quite often! But there is little information on this, because the intended victims mostly end up dead, usually by Suicide. He speaks about communicating with a being he believes is God, he talks about walking with this being. He speaks of him being very large, this is caused by a manipulation of their projection! There are references in our history of Gods being much bigger than the people, a good reference to that is the Sumerian hieroglyphs. Doman speaks of another trick of the devil’s, that I haven’t heard spoken of, this one rightfully caused him some serious mental confusion. The disconcertment is that he is responding to something that he cannot hear! Although he doesn’t stay (I believe) in this video, you normally hear the question right after you answer the question! This is of course quite disconcerting, to say the least. People have no idea of the serious danger that we are in! They cannot comprehend what’s happening, it seems preposterous, to say the least. They do not understand what the Devil is trying to achieve, what is actually at stake! The chair of power is extremely powerful dangerous technology, the main weapon the Devil has used to thrust religion through the Ages.