It’s been 10 years since we first started taking the Hobbits to Isengard. I mean, it’s been way longer - the Hobbits could have fucking walked there, back again, managed to get served several times at the downstairs bar in Doggett’s and got a Southeastern train service all the way to Charing Cross since Tolkien put pen to page. But (and believe me, this is deeply unusual for me) let’s put J R R aside in this.
Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy is kind of… well, both too faithful (total lack of critical interrogation of Tolkien’s absolutely awful concepts around race, gender, etc.) and not faithful enough in that it appeared to miss all the points your correspondent’s teenage self managed to find in the series. Specifically, where Lord of the Rings is an obsessively detailed but ultimately quite modest and traumatised epic, a huge amount of which is two small, starving creatures crawling around in mud having moral dilemmas. The Jackson films take themselves as seriously and grandly as the books came to be and as I suspect their author probably never did.
Taking the Hobbits to Isengard, on the other hand, is a pure and perfect work and I will hear no ill spoken of it else ye never receive a pint in a round bought by me again.
It takes as its base the Hovis-theme-ripping-off music from The Shire - the small-worlded part of the films, before any grandeur is truly injected into the bloated beastie that is the trilogy. The Hobbiton theme is supposed to be homely, reassuring, quaint - like anything that succeeds at that, it sounds fucking amazing played on an airhorn.
The simplicity of the Shire’s theme is what allows it to so naturally accept the kitchen-sink style auditory ornamentation that is ‘a donk’. A classic staple of rave, it needs no introduction even in a world as apparently dislocated from two WKDs and a honk on some poppers as the miruvor-quaffing pipeweed fiends we see here.
As a lyrical piece, Taking The Hobbits is discursive - like many of the very best pieces of pop. One only has to consider the sweet, sweet tension of Fleetwood Mac’s The Chain or Brandy and Monica’s iconic The Boy Is Mine to recognise that dialogous pop is, when it works, a particularly sublime genre.
It doesn’t matter that the lines are, ostensibly, orphaned from their original place in the script - from the eponymous ejaculation to Gollum’s hissed What did u say??? they’re all perfectly addressing each other in the sort of gloriously confused cacophony usually reserved for a misunderstanding-based brawl outside a kebab shop at 3am.
I remember the first time I heard Taking The Hobbits To Isengard. It was quite a momentous occasion because I still had dial up, so it took roughly the length of a decent pop song to load and it was very difficult to tell if it was deliberate or a bandwidth-related glitch remix for at least 30 torturously disrupted seconds. I’d imagined it would be a fairly quick joke - most internet video based things were, at the time, but no; a fully fledged song. That just kept going.
The initial air horns! These are funny, yes because we remember them as the Shire theme, which isn’t even the music for this bit. The stuttering sample of the original line! Which sustains itself as Sheffield Dave-style shout out far better than it should, given it’s old seriousface Elf ears himself yelling off a horse.
(In retrospect, should have equated that with Sheffield Dave earlier)
Then there’s …polka bit. Few pop songs manage to maintain a polka interlude - Bohemian Rhapsody springs to mind but Taking the Hobbits To Isengard manages to repeatedly insert it without losing coherency around its original rave premise. If you don’t think ‘Tell me where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him’ delivered over a little eurodance handbag bit is not both extremely funny and excellent pop, I can’t help you.
Taking The Hobbits To Isengard would score reasonably at Eurovision. Not because Eurovision is actually the home of comedy trash but because if France (and it would probably have to be France in order for the Elven analogues to take themselves seriously enough) scooted in on an artpop platform and wanged loads of fucking airhorns round the stadium it would be entirely in keeping with European sensibilities of solemnly considering the totally whimsical due to our inherent reservedness about experiencing joy.
(The slightly older and wiser part of me has to question the repeated use of Gollum’s ‘stupid, fat, Hobbits’ which makes sense in the context of what he is but isn’t inherently funny, unlike a context-dislocated, bass-intoned ‘A Balrog of Morgoth’)
The great thing about Taking The Hobbits To Isengard is it actually gets funnier the more it goes on. Like Star Trekkin it not only sets out to commit to a fairly one-note premise but to hammer that note until it falls out through the piano and becomes a transcendent free agent, cascading through the strings.
It takes a premise; that the Lord of the Rings films, in their overblown format, are very, very silly and runs with it extremely, deadly seriously. This is the core of not all but a fairly substantial chunk of really good pop, as well as an excellent manual for life. All things are here - a manic sense of imminent implosion, troubling past associated with racist ideologies, handcarts, hell, what did u say???
Very seriously; Taking The Hobbits To Isengard is a superb piece of fan work and it has substantially enriched my life to listen to it on loop for the past 45 minutes whilst watching a parliamentary debate on mute. Creators of this piece: thank.
Top 10 moments when ACOMAF shattered my heart in the best way possible
Okay, now that I’ve spent my whole week just living and breathing about ACOMAF… re-reading ACOMAF… and just thinking about it obsessively and telling ALL my friends about it… I feel like now it is a good time to post this. I’m going to post my top 10 moments in ACOMAF where MY HEART BROKE. And I hope you guys can agree–because this fandom is one soul, and we ride and die together.
10. When Feyre comforts Rhysand after waking him up from his nightmare.
Like first of all, OW. It just breaks my heart over and over to think about what Amarantha did to Rhys, and what scars it left behind.
But… what broke my heart more was this:
“But–but how many nights had I wanted someone to do the same for me?”
AND I’M JUST LIKE FEYRE SUFFERED ALONE IN THE SPRING COURT
Because some stupid High Lord of the Spring Court just pretended to be asleep whenever she vomited her guts out, and pretended everything was all fine and dandy. You claim to love her, and yet, you let this happen. tamlin u shit bag
9. Lucien and Feyre reunion after Feyre goes to the Night Court.
“You gave up on me.”
Look, guys, I know Lucien is not a bad person. Deep down, he is a good, troubled person who has a lot of his own scars, and I know that he does consider Feyre to be his friend and he does care about her. But he also chooses to yield to Tamlin at the end of everything. He does fight for her, but he doesn’t fight enough against Tamlin. Now, this could be because Tamlin does instill a lot of fear in Lucien–which, if it’s true, it is not a healthy friendship, even if Tam is Lucien’s High Lord. But it makes me wonder, you know. Where is our fiery Lucien, who once spat at Tamlin’s feet? I really do hope that Elain will help him change for the better. Or that he comes to this realization from himself. Man, I love Lucien, but he’s going to have to do a lot more to redeem himself.
Because, see, even Rhys thinks that Lucien would’ve stepped in.
And this breaks Feyre’s heart, that her friend wouldn’t do this for her. And she would’ve fought for Lucien until the end, no doubt about.
“I thought so, too” HA HA HA LET ME LIE IN MY OWN PUDDLE OF TEARS
8. The scars that remain with Rhys because of Amarantha.
The next scene that broke my heart happens during the sexytimes between Feyre and Rhys.
Okay, just re-reading this scene is making me really emotional. So I don’t know if I’m going to be coherent enough to say this. But like, guys. I think this scene is important–and heartbreaking at the same time–because it’s a moment where Rhysand’s scars are acknowledged. Again, it is so rare in YA fiction to see a male character who has been sexually abused, and Sarah explores the scars that remain within Rhysand. And it’s also important because he’s also able to overcome these scars, and find happiness even after the darkest of times.
7. How Rhysand is treated in Velaris vs. Under the Mountain
Okay, so I like how 8 and 7 relate to each other.
What struck me about this scene was: “no one whispered about him or spat on him or stroked him as they had Under the Mountain”
What really breaks my heart here is that it’s not just Amarantha that violated Rhys. Others did it too, because Amarantha did it, because Rhys was Amarantha’s whore, and therefore, her property.
And this makes me really sick to my stomach. And it breaks my heart. fuck
6. Feyre realizing how sad she is at the Spring Court before her wedding.
THIS PHYSICALLY HURTS
my poor baby Feyre
I spent a good portion of time during the beginning of the novel wanting to wrap her in a warm blanket, hug her, and tell her it’s okay.
And Tamlin, CAPTAIN OBLIVIOUS, is able to laugh freely. I’m gonna fight him
Even Rhys in Chapter 11 goes: “Months and months, and you’re still a ghost. Does no one there ask what the hell is happening? Does your High Lord simply not care?” (Shall we count this as like an honourable mention moment for when my heart broke into a million pieces… again)
ha ha ha ha let me DIE my heart can’t take this
5. Rhysand asks Feyre about her birthday.
This isn’t a sad scene, but it still moved me and broke my heart because you can obviously tell how much Rhys loves Feyre.
FEYRE’S BIRTHDAY IS THE WINTER SOLSTICE
THE LONGEST NIGHT OF THE YEAR
“YOU WERE TRULY BORN ON THE WINTER SOLSTICE?”
YES RHYS MY SMOL SON YOUR MATE WAS BORN ON THE LONGEST NIGHT OF THE YEAR YES YOU TRULY BELONG TOGETHER
But also, like. Rhys seems genuinely sad that Feyre did not celebrate her birthday. Do I foresee belated birthday gift/party in ACOTAR 3? Because yes I will sell my soul for this
4. Feyre walking away from Rhysand after learning about the mating bond
Okay, no, I totally understand why Feyre is angry enough that she wants some time alone away from Rhysand once she learns from the Suriel that they’re mates. I’ve seen people hating on her for it… but c’mon. Really? You don’t think you’d be angry? Angry enough to walk away? I mean I’d want my own space to think too
But yeah it still broke my heart because Rhysand just calls after her… injured and weakened… ahaha…..ha…. why…
Now we’re rolling into the final 3… and honestly, these broke my heart the most and made me cry. I still want to weep when I think about them.
3. Rhysand noticing Feyre’s weight loss
He cares so much about her. *UGLY WAILING* *falls to the floor*
And he makes sure she eats properly. And wants to have breakfast with her.
RHYSAND YOU PRECIOUS SOUL
cue ugly sobbing, with the snot and everything
rhysand calling tam out on his shitty behaviour
2. Cassian and Feyre training
This is still one of my favourite scenes, and I … just. The whole scene leading up to it is an emotional roller coaster–Cassian saying that he’s there for Feyre if she wants to talk about leaving the Spring Court, the whole “I’m fine” thing, and how Feyre just realizes she did everything for Tamlin… and he just…. left her to suffer alone.
He’s ready to take the blow.
CASSIAN WOULD TAKE THE BLOW.
BECAUSE HE CARES ABOUT FEYRE AND WANTS TO HELP HER COPE.
BECAUSE HE UNDERSTANDS.
Rhys is precious, Cassian is precious….. the whole Night Court squad is precious. I just love them so muchhhhhhh.
And now. . . okay.
The final scene had me in full blown tears.
1. Amren x Feyre
SHE ASKS RHYS THIS LIKE 3 TIMES
SHE DEMANDS TO KNOW WHERE FEYRE IS
AND AND AND AMREN ISN’T ALWAYS VOCAL ABOUT HER FEELINGS AND SHE’S SCARY AND SHE’S VICIOUS
BUT SHE LOVES FEYRE
IT’S THE MOMENT YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH AMREN–AND THE REST OF THE COURT–ALSO LOVE FEYRE, A FELLOW DREAMER
D E A D
LOWER ME TO THE GROUND
This post also made me very emotional again. Thanks for reading. And if you know want to discuss ACOMAF with me, and the scenes that broke your heart (because there are like 10 million more)… feel free to shoot me a message.
(Hilly knows a couple things as a tadpole. He knows there’s probably a lax
bro hitting on him, and that Bitty’s super-secret boyfriend may or may not be a
middle-age lumberjack sugar daddy.)
Hilly knows a few things about Samwell’s hockey dynamics. He knows he is a
tadpole; he initially expects to be hazed to the ground and forced to eat dog
food or something like his roommate, who is currently rushing a frat. He
expects the Haus to be dirty and filled to the brim with red cups and sticky
floorboards. He also knows not to hang out with the lax team because Ransom and
Holster said so, even though a cute boy who he thinks is from the lax team
winked at him in his Intro to Anthropology class. He knows that NHL’s very own
Jack Zimmermann, son of ‘Bad Bob’ Zimmermann and legendary hockey extraordinaire,
is a Samwell alumni, and had slept in the very room which Chowder, their
goalie, currently inhabits.
But Hazeapalooza turns out to be nothing as bad as he expects (he even gets
homemade pie out of it, even if Holster gives him the side-eye). And the Haus
is cleaner than a sports frat house should be. The hockey team is nice (and surprisingly
socially aware) and Hilly likes Samwell fair enough, but he misses home
But Bitty makes things better. Hilly likes Bitty a lot. He likes hanging around
the Haus and watching Bitty roll pastry dough with a practiced, methodical hand
because it reminds him of how his mom used to bake cookies for him and his
sister. Bitty doesn’t mind too much (he thinks) that Hilly may want to go on a
date with a lax bro. Bitty bakes him peach cobbler with crumbles toasted a
golden brown and talks about his family’s jam recipes. Bitty is open and warm
and welcoming. However, the one thing Bitty doesn’t talk much about is his
Disclaimer: I couldn’t find the original poster this came from, but I got this from philanddanxreader, I didn’t come up with this.
A = Aftercare Yixing is the most caring person in the world. Honestly he’s the best human that walks the Earth, don’t fight me on that. And he definitely will be the most loving and caring boyfriend/lover in EXO, if not in the entire human population. Yixing is certainly a guy that refuses to let you leave the bed until he knows you’re 100% okay. He’s not very rough in general, so hurting you isn’t a fear on his mind often, but he does want to make sure you’re happy and comfortable before he gets his dose of cuddles; either a quick shower if you feel up to moving or he’ll jump to get a warm rag because no one likes sweat and dry cum snuggles….
B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Nothing fucked my day up more than reading an passage from his book, where he went to say things like he’s a good dancer, but not as good as Kai, a good singer but not as good as Luhan, handsome but not as handsome as Kris. It’s obvious no matter how brilliant he is, he’s literally the most perfect human alive, he’s still rather self conscious. He’d favor his abs, definitely. He rips his shirt off every chance he gets and on Go Fighting when he was woken up he literally went to the bathroom and stared in the mirror at them for a good 5 minutes…I’m sure he’s pretty proud of them. Being the sappy guy he is, of course he says your eyes are his favorite. He’s really lovey, what do you expect, honestly?
C = Cum While he is the epitome of a gentleman, Xing’s still kind of hesitant and awkward around females. He’d have to finish in a condom in you or something, I feel like he’s such an angel that cumming all over you in semi degrading in his mind, insulting even. If the odd chance he does cum on you by accident, he’s flying off the bed to find something to clean you off.
D = Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs) I feel like Xing’ll have a lot of dirty secrets. Even though he loves you and he likes being honest with you, he doesn’t really like to be vocal about sex things. He respects you too much to actually bring any of it up, different positions and places he wants to have sex, he keep his lips sealed tight. But…you’ll just have to make him tell you, won’t you?
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) See this is the thing, I can’t imagine Xing watching straight up porn. I remember him saying he does watch 19+ movies? Idk if any of you have watched those but I have and they’re….something…but certainly not on par with porn. I know he had a GF back in China, and wrote her songs and all that, he was definitely a loving boyfriend. He knows too much good stuff to put in his songs mym ??? boy…. and onE DOES NOT SIMPLY KNOW HOW TO MOVE THEIR HIPS LIKE THAT UNLESS THEYVE BEEN IN THAT GOOD PUS-anyways, I don’t think he’s a virgin….he definitely knows what he’s doing, he’s just too respectful to be a fuck boi like the rest of em XD
F = Favorite position The way that boy gets down on the floor and humps boi busted his fuckin belt how tf that’s a straight up missionary guy. Xing really gets it going too….missionary sure as hell ain’t boring with his hips grinding away. He does fool around with the position, though. Prop your legs up over his shoulders or hook his arms behind your knees, the whole big thang, lord knows one simply does not get bored with xing’s dicc in ‘em.
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc) While Xing is kind of a meme, he’s adorkable in the best ways, when his shirts off and hips are moving, I’ve never seen the dude more serious. He’s damn determined to give the most for you; he’s in ‘character’ and he’s focused entirely on giving you both the most pleasure imaginable.
H = Hair (How well groomed are they) Lord knows I love his tummy and I have a weird obsession with his happy trail. I think he might wax every once in a while…I’ve seen him missing the hair from one armpit a few times……that’s weird…..anyways I don’t think he trims or stays bare much, probably one of the other boys forced him to go along to the ahem..’groomers’ or something.
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) This is Xing we’re talking about…they boy that wrote love songs for his childhood GF…..k but imagine baby xing writing little love songs, cute image, isn’t it? O-fucking-course Xing is tHE MOST romantic member in both your non-sexual relationship and your sexual one. He pampers you, and especially in the bedroom, he’s almost singing lyrics to you his sweet nothings are so sweet. He’s a stickler for that good ol ‘loving eye contact’ and holding your hands, bodies pressed entirely together while he confesses his love and admiration over and over again.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation) Listen…I know he’s a grown man….but I literally can’t see Xing jerking off? Like I feel like just the thought makes him flustered and he gets all awkward and has to think about all the rice cake he was force fed on Go Fighting! to chill back out again. He’d much rather be with you, so if the feeling arises, he stores it in the spank bank for later when he gets to be back in your arms.
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks) Okay, okay. I do think Xing is an innocent little baby, but I know he’s not. You know the times he wears that like…silk fabric as a blindfold? He lowkey stole that and brought it back to keep for himself. He really likes the cool fabric feel against his skin and sometimes after a long long day, he likes to just lay back and hand you the fabric and let you have your own, uncontrolled, fun with him.
L = Location (Favorite places to do the do) Regardless on how he is in the bedroom, we all know Yixing is a good boy, he’s not going to take you somewhere there’s a risk of getting caught and/or in trouble, so he’s very firm in staying in the bedroom. But I really think he’d love bath sex, he likes water so much, the performances and all he wanted to do on Go Fighting! was go swimming, he’s a lil fishy. Bedroom and bath are really the only options to him.
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going) His songs are lowkey dirty, and if he’s got you, I imagine he’d be secretly writing songs about/for you all the time. I bet my leg he’s be writing his not so innocent lyrics and be thinking about you and then his mind wanders….and things grown….and he’d have to hunt you down…Yixing urned himself on just writing about you…sheesh he’s a weirdo…
N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Back to Location, he 100% will not do anything public. He’s not easily turned on when he’s out in the world anyways, so it’s kind of pointless to try. Also anything by his neck? Not happening, he’ll have a melt down. I’d pay to see someone try to give him a hickie….
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) God Xing is such a little shit….He has the most talented mouth I’ve seen….he’s just too much. He’s a very big pleaser, he almost gets off on just getting you off, he’s a pro and even better since he knows your body’s reactions so well. He almost doesn’t like you going down on him, but he’s one that won’t even propose the idea of you returning the favor and if you take initiative to do it, he’s down for the ride, but he’s not going to ask.
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.) How the floor isn’t pregnant after all this time, I have no idea. If his um…floor fun is anything to show, he’s kind of rough. With an actual person, I don’t think he’d be that wild, a bit slower that he portrays and way more loving and sensual.
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.) I feel like Xing has a pretty tight hold on his lust and whatnot, so I think if there isn’t proper time to have regular sex, he can easily push it away to bring up later when you’ve got time for it. If they did happen, quickies would be extremely rare, to the point you can count how many times you’ve had them on one hand. He just doesn’t like the rushed feeling.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) [See Location and NO] Yixing’s pretty hesitant in trying new things with you, he doesn’t really want to do anything that sounds like it could hurt either of you so a lot of things he isn’t game to even try but if they sound harmless enough, like just a new position or something, he’s okay with trying that.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…) Yixing does the very most all the time, he gives 142% in every single thing he does. I don’t think he tires out easily, that’s why he can’t do quickies, I don’t think he cums fast…you’ll probably be at it for a good 10 minutes and that’s excluding the foreplay. But one round is usually all he will do.
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) Beyond a few things that doesn’t really count as toys really aka the silk fabric blindfold thing, Xing doesn’t delve into toys much. He’s pretty much a sex machine on his own, him bringing toys into the bedroom isn’t a very likely scenario, he doesn’t really like or see the need for them.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Make no mistake, Xing is a little shit, Go Fighting! exposed his naughty side quite a bit lmao but after keeping his hormones in check, once he finally has his hands on you he can’t really hold himself back anymore. Teasing you is more so teasing himself and he don’t live for that life. Foreplay is a must, but teasing is right out the window.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make) Xing has the vocals of a god, don’t fight me on that. The boy has a good set of pipes but he’s more of a grunt/moan guy in the bedroom. No one’s going to hear him but you, he doesn’t like breathing on his neck but more often than not he’s got his head tucked against your neck and moaning and panting in your ear.
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) We know Xing has his lil dance studio in China, and he 100% brings you with him on his trips back to his home country solely because of the place. Unless shiz is happening, no ones really in there and let’s just say sometimes he really likes the mirrors in the dance practice rooms…
X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) Okay we’ve literally seen his dick…like 100% Xing dick has been exposed.
b y e Obviously it don’t really look like much but dicks are strange things, they grow like plants lmaoman i dead ass was watching this porn and it was like 30 mins long and dude had a lil thumb dick and i was like wtf is that and when he actually was hard the fucker was like 5 inch how tf that work either way, that whole motion in the ocean thing is legit, and we’ve seen his moves….itll be ok..
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?) Like I said, he’s lowkey a dirty guy but he keeps himself composed well. Xing has a pretty average sex drive, just slightly higher than usual but he keeps himself on a leash pretty well so it doesn’t show…but he’ll show you dont worry…
Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Xing is a pretty cuddly boyfriend/lover in my mind, especially sine you’re alone his PDA hold back has gone out the front door, he’s latched to your side. I think after pretty much having an intense work out, you both fall asleep pretty fast. Xing’s definitely down for the count immediately after you’re cleaned up.
I find myself wondering a lot where it stops with the wizarding world borrowing muggle technology ??? when did they decide that this specific amount of muggle technology is good. but to hell with the rest!!! bathtubs, plumbing, sinks, clocks, sure. cars???? oh man what the HECK is a car??? dear lord??? also pens????? pencils???? never heard of them. who decides what is acceptable and what’s not?? is there a council?? who decided that trains were ok but cars were Taboo???
Summary: He always knew Dicky was different. Not bad different, just not like the rest of the boys in the neighborhood. A glimpse into the relationship of Coach and Bitty, and how Coach comes to terms with it all. Also on AO3…
“So, Dicky. Do you want to watch a movie?”
Coach was happy to have Dicky at home. His visits had become far and few between, a rare thing, ever since… well, recently. Suzanne was out with her bowling league, so it was just the two of them for the evening.
“Sure, Coach. What do you wanna see? I think Predator is about to start,” Bitty replied as he grabbed a bag of Brother Kane potato chips from the kitchen and settled into the couch.
He then took the remote and was browsing through the channel guide.
“Also Rocky III is on, uh… Casino. What else…”
Coach watched his son and smiled listening to the movie choices being offered to him.
He always knew Dicky was different.
Not bad different, just not like the rest of the boys in the neighborhood. When he was younger and the other coaches had their boys in pee wee leagues (already drilling the eye on the prize mentality into their heads: “One day you’ll be the star quarterback, son!”) he would look at Dicky and sigh knowing that wouldn’t be his son’s fate.
And he made peace with it, for Dicky was always kind, always helpful, always wore a smile on his face and a smudge of flour on his cheek.
I honestly hate to rant but my bb Cas deserves this
And yes Misha is a regular next season but couldn’t that just be Dean imagining him, or hallucinating again…
Now, I understand that I am not a writer for the show, and none of us are. But seriously? Cas? Of all characters?! Rowena, I understand she was a favorite for some people, and Crowley had an honorable death (that still broke me a lil’ bit) but Casti fricking el? Cas has been a main character, no, an important character, for the past eight seasons. Supernatural won’t be he same without them. I’m not going to venture into the past few character deaths that were unjust, (Eileen, Rowena,etc.) but imma stick to my buddy Cas. Honestly, I don’t know how they could just kill off Cas like he was not important! They didn’t even give him a line! There is no reason, none at all, that they should’ve killed him off. I’m honestly trying so hard to think of one good reason…ONE. I also understand that a lot of you think Chuck or the devil spawn is going to bring him back, and I know they’ve killed all of hem off multiple times before but you have to remember that it is the twelfth season going on thirteen. If the thirteenth isn’t the final season then there can’t be an awful lot more can there?
Cas is dead.
But what he left. WHO he left. Is in frickin ruins. Castiel is an angel of the stinking lord, he could’ve been if some importance in the next season. And he didn’t even get a final line! The last thing he heard was Dean screaming his name and he didn’t even get a final line. Cas deserved a whole lot better than this shiz.
Now let’s talk about Dean.
The man that made Castiel fall from heaven.
The one that was broken when Cas was still in purgatory and he wasn’t.
The man that went through heaven and hell to save Cas.
The man that gave Cas a mixtape
The man that got nervous when Cas didn’t answer his phone for a few days
The man that loved Cas, platonically or not, no one can deny the more than profound bond that they share. (No I am not making this about Destiel,)
Dean was broken when Cas was in purgatory, but he knew that Cas was more than likely still alive, and Dean was broken at the fact that Cas wanted him to leave purgatory without him that he would rather think he left Cas than the alternative which was hat Cas didn’’t want to go home with Dean. Now, knowing Dean was empty and miserable when Cas was in Purgatory. We can’t even imagine what horrors await Dean in the next season. He watched Cas die right in front of him. Dean crumpled to his knees at the sight of Cas dead and his wings burnt around the two of them. The next season can go in a few directions with Cas’s death
One: they can bring Cas back and all will be merry again. (Highly unlikely)
Two: Dean can be extremely depressed about Cas to the point where he is hallucinating again. So broken this time that I don’t think there would ever be a happy ending for Dean. (Likely)
Three: Dean doesn’t get depressed. Now, if this is the direction the writers are planning to go in…I will honestly quit watching. They have already ruined every single characters plot line, and if they do this then they are digging their own graves. I’m not saying I want Dean to be broken and depressed, believe me when I say I would want Cas back no matter what, but honestly, it would be so out of character for Dean not to care that I would slam myself into a brick wall. Dean cares too much about everything, but doesn’t show it. If Dean hallucinates Cas after purgatory I bet my ass that he will hallucinate after he dies right in front of him! (Unlikely)
Four: Dean can sell his soul again. He talked to Mary about doing so earlier in the episode. So maybe this is what the writer have planned? Honestly this wouldn’t be in character-like of Dean. So I wouldn’t be surprised, but I would be so heart broken if it did because we all know Sammy’ll try and stop it and then when it does happen, Cas’ll be so mad at Dean. Ugh. (Highly unlikely)
Five: Dean can be so hellbent on revenge that he rips apart worlds just to avenge Cas. Honestly,, this’d be entertaining. Now believe me, I don’t like my Dean-o to be hurt. So any of these directions hurts like hell. But. This would be likely of Dean. This is one of his characteristics, so I don’t doubt that the writers may use this (likely)
Castiel deserved better, Misha deserves better, We deserve better than this. Supernatural will not be the same with out Castiel. Neither will team free will.
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
We love you, we will miss you, goodbye Cas
Wait you know what?! Cas isn’t right.
Goodbye, Castiel Winchester
Hi :) not exactly a prompt, but more of a musing. What do you think would happen if Claire went to Lallybroch first, instead of Edinburgh/printshop? Thanks for your great fics, girls!
Welp, musing it might have been, but here we now are! Thank you for an inspiring prompt!! -Mod Bonnie
A breeze carried my words overtop the horse’s head, bearing them toward the neat stone walls just visible in the distance; and having said it, I felt something—yes—relief shudder down my spine. Despite the years, despite everything…it did still feel like my home. Divinely-sent or mere desperation, I took the reassurance with all my heart, and kicked my mount hard toward Lallybroch; toward home.
It had been a last-minute decision, to come here, instead of to Edinburgh. In fact, I’d been fully through the stones and in Inverness boarding the carriage that would deliver me south! Then something clicked into place and before I even stopped to question myself, I was exchanging the coach fare for a horse and saddle, wondering why Lallybroch hadn’t been my plan from the start.
Well, no—I knew exactly why. Because the idea of going anywhere but directly into Jamie’s arms had seemed ludicrous.
He was ALIVE. And so close—I was *so close* to having him again, it was like a physical pain in my chest. the longing—the wanting….
But *think*, Beauchamp, I’d counseled myself in those vital seconds on the mounting block: a visit to Lallybroch will yield me *actual* information as to the whereabouts of those arms; a far cry more reliable than your hunch from a two-hundred year old artifact! I mean, *good Lord*, consider all the variables, here! Perhaps he’s moved to new premises across town! What if he’s abandoned his nom de plume for another and there is no longer an A. Malcolm printing in Edinburgh? What if he’s been so successful in his business, he’s moved to London to join a larger firm? Hell, what if he’s decided to make his fortune as a fur trader in Canada, for heaven’s sake??
Yes, the closer I got to Lallybroch, the more confident I was in the wisdom of my sudden volte-face. Even overlooking the more remote possibilities that may have taken him out of Scotland, a quick chat with Jenny and Ian could easily save me days or even weeks of roaming around Edinburgh asking after red-headed printers; and as an unarmed woman traveling alone and with limited funds, this was more than prudent, no matter how you looked at it.
I mean, surely, even if he did still occupy the shop in Carfax Close, he would visit home occasionally….
….and there was always the chance that even NOW, he might be…he COULD be…
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Beauchamp. One leap at a time.
I dismounted and led the horse on foot for the final approach up the road toward the house, as much for my own pounding heart as for the beast’s sake. Dear God…almost exactly the same as I left it twenty years ago.
The trees overhanging the dooryard; the sounds of cooking and chatting and children playing from inside the house; even the customary pack of dogs that heralded my arrival through the archway, howling and barking as befitted their time-honored station…Yes, it was home. My home.
“What do you think, lads?” I laughed softly, holding out my knuckles for the slobbering, leaping home guard to sniff. “Do I pass muster?”
Apparently I did, for they all began vying for my attention. I obliged happily, scratching behind ears with my free hand and murmuring dog-lover-nonsense to each of them in turn, wondering if goodwill and trust could be passed down canine generations.
“A good morning to ye, Mistress!”
I turned to see a stableboy of about ten hurrying across the dooryard toward me. A stranger, to my eyes, but with a warm, friendly manner, he bobbed a quick bow.
“Good morning!” I replied with a grateful smile as I relinquished the horse. “And what’s your name, lad?”
At my words, he jumped and uttered a gaelic curse, his reaction so violent that he dropped the reins and caused the horse to rear. It wasn’t until I’d reclaimed the beast—nearly getting my teeth knocked in— and turned panting back to the boy, to his pale and frightened face, that I realized what had been his curse: sassenach. Said not in affection, the way Jamie had from the beginning, and Jenny and others had picked up from time to time in jest: but in fear and disgust. The vehemence of it felt like a blow to my gut, and for the first time, I felt afraid, ludicrous as it was to be bowed before a young boy. Before, I’d been only suspicious to Highlanders. Now, after Culloden, after the Clearances—I was, objectively, the enemy.
The boy, to his credit, recovered with a good show of politeness, retrieving the reins and offering a murmured apology. He did *not*, though, offer his name. “Are ye expected at the house this morn, Mistress?” (Do you have a reason for being here, or are you an English informant fixing to burn the place down?)
“I’m an old friend of the family,” I said, with a concerted confidence and ease that I hoped would reassure him, “but, no, I’m not expected.”
In fact, I could say with absolute confidence that I would be the least expected person ever to darken Lallybroch’s door.
“Oh, aye,” the boy said. Polite. Wary. “If you’ll just follow me, Mistress, I’ll put awa’ the horse and then show ye inside until someone will be in to receive ye.”
My heart thumped and my hope screamed piercingly in my ears:
Jamie. Jamie. JAMIE.
My hands were shaking. I had to swallow and moisten my mouth to get the words out as I followed behind the boy toward the hitching post. “I beg your pardon, but does the…?” Nothing to lose, at this point, I suppose. “Is the laird in residence?”
“Mr. Jamie?” the boy asked over his shoulder, clearly surprised by the inquiry. “Aye, ‘course.”
He was here.
I nearly fainted where I stood.
Thank God!! Thank GOD I trusted my gut and came here instead of going to Edinburgh.
Jamie was near. My Jamie could be HERE at any moment!
God, what will—
“But he’s no’ to home just at present,” the boy added hastily. “Went up to Broch Morda for the day.”
“Oh! Oh, that’s—that’s quite alright.” In fact, it was a relief. I would have time to think, to plan; to prepare myself.
Dear God, Jamie!
“Shall I send a message after him to let him know you’ve business wi’ him, Mistress?”
It should be alone, when we met
to give him time to react in private
Lord, would he faint? Scream? Regardless, I did not want to be responsible for giving Jamie a premature cardiac arrest.
“That’s very kind, lad, but no, I’ll wai—”
“It’s Jamie Murray, he means.”
I whirled, my heart crushed with realization before I even finished the turn. Of *course* Jamie Fraser was no longer the laird; I’d known that; I KNEW that.
But even the ache of my desperation for Jamie vanished for that moment as I took in the sight of the woman standing in the open kitchen doorway. Older, weathered, just like me–but the same. My eyes filled with tears of joy and love and relief and I gave a little sob as I made to run to her, to embrace her.
But I was halted by a cold voice I didn’t recognize. “He’s no’ here.”
I stared as a dead person stares, looking but without conscious thought. It was a stranger speaking, a hostile stranger showing not a scrap of surprise or pleasure at my appearance. And her eyes—God, those blue eyes so very like his—staring me down—
so bone-chillingly cold
No, not just distant…..
Jesus, I wanted to whimper, Don’t you recognize me, sister? It’s ME…
But she did recognize me; and she did not like what she saw.
I braced my shoulders. Met her eye. And tried not to let my wounds show.
Here is the next part to Certain as the Sun. ***WARNING: EXTREME EXPLICIT CONTENT*** I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as it killed my heart to write it. (That’s all the spoilers I’ll give. Please prepare yourselves). Sorry it’s also super long.
I could think up about a million different possibilities as for why the hell Tamlin had sent for me to be brought to the Spring Court and none of them involved him letting Feyre go so that she could return home with me.
When I had first received the note from none other than the High Lord of the Spring Court himself, Amren had advised me to ignore it.
“It’s a trap,” she’d said, eyes blaring. “What good reason would he have to send for you?” When I’d addressed the rest of the Inner Circle as well, they’d had similar thoughts. There was one thing we all agreed upon, and that was that Tamlin had not invited me to his home for a nice brunch and some polite conversation.
When I’d tried to reach out to Feyre again I had been met with that dark, infinite void. She had not contacted him at all since she’d returned once again to the Spring Court. And although I was certain she must possess some perfectly good explanation unbeknownst to myself, it still struck some sort of chord that she had severed herself from me so thoroughly.
Nevertheless, I had agreed to meet with Tamlin. Morrigan and Amren were both waiting just on the outskirts of the Spring Court should I need their assistance. I’d ordered Azriel to take to the skies and keep watch from there, Cassian flanking my side. Normally, their roles were reversed, but in great thanks to that bastard King of Hybern, we still had not found any cure for Cassian’s ruined wings.
He had not yet come to terms with it, and over these past months, I could tell that there was something that was a bit off about my fellow Illyrian warrior. I could not begin to imagine the pain that came with being without your wings—for Illyrians we’d sooner lose our lives than the one thing that kept us from being fully tethered to the ground. Every day that Cassian chose to continue was another that my respect for him grew.
Even if that did mean getting rip-roaring drunk with him more than usual.
“Well, Tamlin’s certainly got a flair for the extravagant,” Cassian mused upon coming face to face with a ridiculously gaudy table sat decoratively in a corner. It seemed to have no use whatsoever besides showcasing Tamlin’s less than desirable personality traits.
No sooner did the words come from Cassian’s lips did a servant come to take us to wherever Tamlin was hiding out. He was a small, young Fae. Exceedingly pointed ears were a light shade of green at the tips, his eyes wide at the sight of the two warriors before him.
The boy swallowed before speaking. “Master Tamlin has ordered me to fetch you,” he said, fighting to stop his voice from quivering so much. “Please follow me.”
He promptly spun on his heels and walked out of the room, not bothering to ensure we were following him.
As we were led through the utter maze that was the Spring Court dwelling, I was shocked at how many memories were associated with this place that had once been like a home but was now nothing more than a living hell.
Finally, the boy led us to a set of dusty rose-colored double doors. His timid fingers lightly rapped on the door, followed by a, “Come in.”
As one we all filed inside. The room was big and spacious, a single table set with four chairs instead of just three did not escape my notice. This particular room had been peculiarly made with mirrors on three of the four walls, as well as the ceiling, giving it the illusion that you were standing in a pool of Starlight due to the sun that refracted off of them.
And standing at the lone window in the room was none other than the High Bastard himself.
Tamlin turned upon hearing our arrival, a welcoming smile adorning his lips. “Rhysand. Cassian,” he greeted. As he made his way over to us, I noted that his choice in clothing was just as flamboyant as his furniture. He wore a finely tailored red tunic with bright silver trimmings, grey pants, and black boots. His hair graced past his shoulders, and sitting atop his head was the infamous Spring Court crown. It looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“I trust you made it here without any trouble,” he continued.
“Your trust is accurately placed,” Cassian said with more than a hint of malice.
Tamlin just nodded, keeping that pleasant smile on his face. “Well, please sit. We’ve much to discuss.”
Neither Cassian nor I moved.
“I don’t have time for whatever mind tricks you’re trying to pull, Tamlin. Perhaps you’ve forgotten that that is one area—of many— that my performance supersedes yours,” I replied coolly.
That smile drooped ever slightly.
“I don’t see your Lady floating about,” I remarked. “Keeping her locked away for fear I may meddle with her mind again, are we?”
“Funny you should mention her, actually,” Tamlin’s eyes glittered with something that had my senses on high alert. “Feyre,” he called, “would you please join us?”
A moment later I heard the doors that we’d entered just a few moments ago open and then shut once more. I forced myself to breathe, not to react, to calm myself as Feyre came into view.
She was wearing a dress similar in fashion to what Tamlin was wearing, a pretty diadem sat upon her head. Feyre did not glance our way as she rushed to Tamlin, her lips meeting his as soon as he was within arm’s length.
Tamlin scooped her into his arms, Feyre leaning into his touch as his hand moved further south than should be permitted in front of an audience.
Cassian was taut as a bow, his hands clenching and unclenching were they were hidden behind his back. It took all my strength not to turn Tamlin’s mind to putty then and there, and I could tell similar thoughts were indeed running through Cassian’s mind as well as we were forced to watch helplessly as our High Lady shoved her tongue down another man’s throat.
“How are you today, my love?” He asked. She smiled broadly, one she had only ever graced me with when she was incandescently happy.
“I’m well, thank you,” she replied, beaming at him. “I got some more paintings done today.”
She nodded, biting down on her lower lip, eyes sparkling. “I was feeling oddly inspired this morning…perhaps due to—”
“Either we get on with whatever business, or the two of you get a room and we leave,” Cassian interrupted. As much as I wished I could say that I would have been able to stand there for a few moments more and let them go about their business, it was killing me to see her this way.
When Feyre had visited, she’d told me she had to do things to keep up appearances. Things that she was not proud of. She hadn’t specified at the time, but there was no need. I knew exactly the kind of things she probably had to do to keep up the facade that she was hopelessly in love with Tamlin.
And yet, the wrath deafening my ears came as a surprise.
Indeed, it was one thing to be told, and another entirely to experience.
“Feyre, you remember Rhysand, I’m sure. And the other is Cassian. His…advisor.”
I couldn’t help the low chuckle that came as a result of his words. “You think you will anger me by disrespecting not only my title but a member of my court as well. It will take much more than a few insults, princeling, for me to reveal my true self.” His brows rose. “And I assure you, your claws would not like to become acquainted with my talons.”
He was quiet for a moment, eyes calculating.
Finally, he spoke. “You know what? You’re right. So very right, Rhysand. How foolish of me to think I could rile you with belittling you insignificant and, frankly, foolish court of savages anyway?” My teeth set. “It would take something much more…personal, I think.”
It took less than a heartbeat for Cassian to have his swords drawn, me reaching out to strangle Tamlin’s mind as the room was flooded with ten guards. They all immediately came at us, and I was more than prepared to fight our way out of this cursed kingdom with Tamlin tisked.
“Spill a drop of their blood, and your beloved mate loses her head.” It took me a moment to realize what he was saying, an infinitely longer moment for it to process. For when I looked at where Feyre had once been standing like another pretty piece of Tamlin’s furniture, she was now being held by three guards.
I forced my face into a mask of calm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, you crazy bastard.”
His brows rose in mock surprise. “Oh really? You’ve no clue that Feyre is, indeed, your mate? That she’s been pretending this entire time to love me when really, she had staged everything just to infiltrate the Spring Court. A spy within my own walls, hiding in plain sight.” He paused, as if waiting for me to answer some unspoken question.
“Well then, if you have no feelings whatsoever for our lovely Feyre, here. I suppose you’ll have no problem watching this.” I watched as he snapped his fingers and a table decorated with over a dozen lethal weapons, a whip, and strangely, a bed appeared.
“As you know, the punishment for such treason is death.” He stalked towards Feyre, whose eyes had gone devoid of all emotion. As if she’d shut herself out of her own body. With one finger, he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry for this, Feyre. I really am.” A regretful shake of the head and then, “Get on with it, boys.”
Immediately, Tamlin’s guards began to strip Feyre, yanking at her dress, tearing at the pins and beads in her hair until she was entirely naked before us. Once finished, Tamlin handed a long, black whip to the nearest guard. Something winked at the end of the whip—glass, I realized with unabashed horror.
“You’re going to whip her to death?” I asked, somehow still managing to keep my voice utterly bored.
Tamlin shrugged. “We’ll see how well she holds out.” He nodded at the guard, and I was sure my heart cleaved itself in two as Feyre took in a deep, shuddering breath, preparing herself for the pain that was sure to come.
The guard’s arm reared back, time seeming to slow as his arm came down.
The resounding crack of leather on skin was one that would haunt me for many centuries to come.
Feyre only released a strangled cry, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from calling out. And that was how it went as the guard whipped her again, and again, and again. I lost count sometime after fifty.
I knew that Feyre’s back had stopped healing itself when she finally released a cry so full of agony, it was all I could do to stop from ripping that whip from the guard’s hands and using it myself.
Tamlin allowed the guard to bring down that leather ten more times before he finally said, “Enough. Get her up.”
They heaved her up, Tamlin slowly circling around her like a lion before its prey. When he was once again facing her he murmured, “Get on the bed.”
Feyre looked at him, her eyes burning like liquid amber. But she did not respond, and she did not move. Only stared at him with a look that promised death in the future.
“Get on the bed, Feyre, or I will instruct my guards to seize your mate’s cousin and bring her back here.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Pretty little thing isn’t she? Bright red lips, beautiful honeyed hair. The only family Rhysand has left if I recall correctly. It’d be a shame for dear Rhys to be the only left of his name, wouldn’t it?”
And then Feyre looked beyond Tamlin, her eyes locking with mine. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” they seemed to say.
“I’m going to kill you.” My voice was quiet, but it was filled with a vow I had every intention to keep.
Tamlin didn’t turn to me as he said. “I don’t believe you’ll have the chance.” He inclined his head toward the waiting bed. “Off you go, Feyre.”
She hesitated for a moment, gaze still locked with mine before she obeyed.
“Now, Rhys, since she is your mate I figured I’d offer. Would you like to have a go? Feyre has…well, not really two choices but two possibilities,” he finally turned to meet my gaze. “Either you join her in that bed and fuck her…or I will, gladly, as you watch. You’ve thirty seconds to decide.”
“Rhys.” I looked over at Feyre to see her shaking her head, her eyes swimming not with tears, but with a sort of determination that only came with acceptance. “Don’t do it. Do not agree to this.”
“I’ll be fine,” she promised.
“Feyre—” Cassian tried.
“I will. Be. Fine,” she said, sternly this time.
And I wanted to believe her, I really did.
I wanted to believe that this wouldn’t be the thing that broke her, being raped by the man who had once claimed to love her. I knew he wouldn’t be gentle with her, even after being whipped. The man who had once been thought to be her savior, lover, friend.
But Tamlin was none of those things.
And I couldn’t, not for the life of me, believe that she would still be Feyre after this.
“Alright,” Tamlin sighed, “I guess I’m—”
“I’ll do it.”
“Now, now, Feyre. Let him finish.”
Cassian turned to me, anguish in his eyes. “Rhysand, you don’t—”
“I’ll do it,” I repeated, ignoring him. “I’ll sleep with her.”
“Well then,” Tamlin grinned, “I don’t believe you need me to instruct you on how to go about your business.” He gestured towards Feyre, towards the bed, my damnation.
I watched in horror as Feyre fought back tears at my approach, and all I could pray for was that she’d one day forgive me for this, for this sin I was about to commit.
She slid to the side as I rid myself of my clothing, by back to Tamlin’s gathered audience. Her eyes never left mine as I finally joined her on that bed.
“It’s alright,” I whispered my lips at her ear. “It’s just me. It’s just me.”
She couldn’t respond, she was shaking so hard. I’d never seen her shaking so violently. Feyre lifted my chin with her finger, her head shaking.
“Don’t stop looking at me,” she begged. “Don’t leave me. Please.”
“I won’t,” I promised. “I won’t.”
Slowly, Tamlin be damned, I made sure to honor her body, despite all of the new scars, worshipping all of her newly inflicted wounds. I wanted Feyre to know it was me, that despite this terrible act we were being forced into, it did not mean that I loved her any less.
When I finally connected our bodies, she let out a slight gasp, her eyes, now swimming with tears, still never leaving mine as I moved, my body cocooning hers, careful of her wounds.
“I’m here,” I whispered down the bond, “I’m here. I won’t leave you. I love you.”
Ahsoka: [yelling above the din of the room] Everyone, please! Quiet! Now look: I’ve separated you all so that you’ll stop trying to kill each other…and other things. [Vaderkin hands Gardner Kenobi a daisy. He blushes. Ahsoka rolls her eyes and murmurs “oh my God” under her breath.] Ahsoka: [continuing] …obviously, something is messed up in the timeline. And we have to figure out how to fix it, and save my Master from becoming Darth Vader. [to Canon Anakin and Obi-Wan] I want you two to come with me, so we can find out where in the timeline we need to change things. [to the group] The rest of you, stay here. Kenobis: it goes without saying, but you’re in charge. Pirate Kenobi: I propose I join you. You might need me. I can be very persuasive. [he winks at the Anakins, who all sigh] Canon Kenobi: I don’t think that’ll be necessary, I mean, I am the Negotiator – Canon Anakin: [way too eagerly] He should come along. Uh, he could be, y’know. Good. To have around. [Canon Kenobi stares at him judgmentally] What? Ahsoka: Ugh, fine. Pirate Kenobi can come. But that’s it! Gardener Anakin: Not even me? Ahsoka: Especially not you. Maul: [bursting through the door] I demand to join you! Ahsoka: [rubbing her temples] …oh Lord, is Filoni writing this thing? Maul, what the hell are you doing here? Maul: Same thing you are, Lady Tano. Trying to fix things that went wrong. I insist you bring me on this quest of yours. Ahsoka: You don’t even want to save the universe! You just wanna kill Sidious so you can take it over yourself! Maul: I have just as much reason to want to set things right as you do. Perhaps we can make it so that my life was never ruined by the Sith. I could be spared years of torment! And I am a good warrior. You might need me. Ahsoka: [sighs] I can’t believe I’m saying this, but fine: you can come, too. Canon Kenobi: [indignant] Oh come on! Ahsoka: Maybe we can try to go far enough back in the timeline that we can stop everything before it starts. It might be helpful to have Maul with us in case we run into another Maul at some point. OK guys: let’s go.
[they leave, and emerge in a different place and time]
Ahsoka: [looking around] This doesn’t look right at all… Canon Kenobi: [reading from a datapad] It appears to me that we may have gone forward in time, not back. Pirate Kenobi: [to a mysterious young man heading towards them down the hallway] Well, hello there. Poe Dameron: [dumbstruck] Whoa.
@albaparthenicevelut@resistancepilots I am dedicating this one to you two specifically because of its Gardener/Pirate content. Please know that just writing that sentence alone just now made me laugh out loud.
I honestly find it ridiculous how conditioned general audiences are to Marvels way of making movies. I mean it’s not like ensemble movies have been being made for decades, but I guess they needed stand alone films for every character so the audience could care about what happens to them. Does every X-Men character need their own movies to make them good? The Oceans franchise? Fast and furious? Movies like The Hateful Eight and The Magnificent Seven? Lord of the Rings? Star Trek? What about Rogue One? Hell even Guardians of the Galaxy made a group film work without solos.
Justice League only has three of its main characters who haven’t had their own movie, half of the team will have already been in at least two movies before JL comes out. And you fucking know that if dc had done individual films first everyone would just be bitching about how they’re copying Marvel.
And honestly having the Justice League early on makes a shit ton more sense business wise because if you look at marvels box office, most of phase 1 and the latest origin films are the ones that make the least amount of money. But, if say Antman had come out after his appearance in Civil War, you can bet that it would have made a considerable amount more money. People would have already seen him in a huge movie that everyone was going to see no matter who was in it. Like it’s such an easy concept, you have a huge group movie, that people will see just because it’s an event film, give characters super cool moments and make them really likeable in the group film and then people are more likely to want to see the character in theatre when their own movie comes out.
Marvel is great at what it does, there is no denying that. But can we stop trying to make everything the same? That’s how superhero fatigue starts. If every single superhero movie that comes out is the exact same tone and format as the others people are going to get bored eventually. At the moment we have such a wide array of styles but people just can’t seem to accept any differences. Why do people constantly need to tear one universe down to prop another one up?
(this post is a distraction from passing out from pain so ugh :P)
DEAN You know what I’ve got faith in? Reality. Knowing what’s really going on. SAM How can you be a skeptic? With the things we see everyday? DEAN Exactly. We see them, we know they’re real.
CASTIEL I’m an Angel of the Lord. DEAN Get the hell out of here. There’s no such thing. CASTIEL This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.
SAM But if you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there, too? DEAN Because I’ve seen what evil does to good people.
DEAN Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell? CASTIEL Good things do happen, Dean. DEAN Not in my experience.
YOUNG WOMAN (Overhearing) Maybe God works in mysterious ways. DEAN (Checking her out and smiling) Maybe he does. I think you just turned me around on the subject.
CASTIEL The Lord works… DEAN If you say “mysterious ways,” so help me, I will kick your ass.
(1x12 - DEAN (Looking after her) Well, I bet you she can work in some mysterious ways.)
ROY Dean. (nods to himself) I want-I want you to come up here with me. DEAN (shaking his head) No, it’s ok. […] DEAN (Hestiating again) Well, yeah, but ahh…(The crowd claps and makes encouraging noises.)… maybe you should just pick someone else. ROY Oh, no. I didn’t pick you, Dean, the Lord did.
DEAN I mean, I’ve saved some people, okay? I figured that made up for the stealing and the ditching chicks. But why do I deserve to get saved? I’m just a regular guy. SAM Apparently, you’re a regular guy that’s important to the man upstairs. DEAN Well, that creeps me out. I mean, I don’t like getting singled out at birthday parties, much less by… God.
DEAN Look, no disrespect, but ahh, I’m not exactly a believer. ROY (smiling) You will be, son. You will be.
DEAN Well, I feel stupid doing this. But… I am fresh out of options. So please. I need some help. I’m praying, okay? Come on. Please. CASTIEL Prayer is a sign of faith. This is a good thing, Dean.
(& if that one isn’t good enough for you, 5x14, Dean @ the sky AFTER leaving Cas downstairs -
DEAN Please…I can’t…I need some help. Please?)
DEAN Can I ask you one last question? ROY Of course you can. DEAN Why? Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?
SAM Okay, look. I know you’re not all choirboy about this stuff, but this is becoming less and less about faith and more and more about proof. DEAN Proof? SAM Yes. DEAN Proof that there’s a God out there that actually gives a crap about me personally? I’m sorry, but I’m not buying it. SAM Why not? DEAN Because why me? If there is a God out there, why would he give a crap about me?
ROY Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me. I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest. DEAN What did you see in my heart? ROY A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn’t finished.
DEAN Why’d you do it? CASTIEL Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.
DEAN I’m sorry. LAYLA It’s okay. MRS. ROURKE No. It isn’t. (To DEAN.) Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?
LAYLA I wish you luck. I really do. DEAN (Voice cracking) Same to you. Layla turns to walk away again. DEAN (under his breath) You deserve it a lot more than me.
DEAN You know if Roy woulda picked Layla instead of me she’d be here right now. And if she’s not healed tonight she’s gunna die in a coupla months.
CASTIEL What’s the matter? You don’t think you deserve to be saved?
well i got yelled at one time for using the terms "biological gender" and "gender identity" when talking about Chara so i kinda know what you're talking about. thanks Tumblr
I’m probably going to get a lot of people angry saying this but…I think people have made gender such a big deal because us first-world babies haven’t had enough to complain about so let’s b*tch about freaking gender! something that exists for the sole purpose of reproducing and something we have no control over! and let’s get really mad at someone when they assume said gender! I got yelled at by a gender fluid person when I said “sorry, miss.” after we almost collided with each other on a walkway! Excuuuse me how I was I supposed to know you were jumping back and forth and was a guy that day??
…I did not mean to rant =w= and I probably just set off an explosion for saying such a thing on Tumblr of all places. Yeah I get it, there are some people out there that legitimately don’t know what gender they are and there are people that don’t like looking like a girl and dress more neutrally, or like a guy and vice versa (hell I do that) honestly I’d be more sympathetic about the whole thing if people weren’t such assholes about it
but good lord I think there are more important things we can be putting this attention towards….
ok I won’t talk about genders anymore, I know it’s annoying for some XD it’s sort of why I’ve stopped following some Undertale ask blogs because that’s all they freaking talk about.