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superduperfandomgirl · 6 years

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Utterly, Illogically In Love

This is for the @sides-of-quotes-contest! Thank you for inspiring me to write this, and I’m sorry this is so close to the deadline! :D

Based on the following misquote:

Pairing: Logicality

Warnings: Cursing

Summary: Logan has a problem. A huge problem. A massive, enormous, overwhelming problem. He’s having... dare he say it... feelings. Ew.

Word Count: 2.7k

Logic, otherwise known as Logan, is the most functional of all the traits of Thomas’ personality. He organizes and follows his schedule in a precise and efficient manner; he takes care of Thomas’ health while all the other sides are too distracted with other, more trivial matters; and he even keeps the other sides’ unrestrained creativity in check by pointing out their errors and doing research, instead of simply making things up.

His most important trick to being so focused and sharp: He has no heart.

It is true, no matter how much other *coughing fit* Patton *coughing fit* sides try to deny it. Love is for fools, and Logic is never going to be made a fool. He is, as his vocab card would say, a Badass BrainTM who don’t need no man in his life…no, wait, he doesn’t need a man in his life. Why do the “hip” teenagers always insist on speaking in such a grammatically incorrect way?

This is all to say that when Patton giggled about something over breakfast, Logan’s brain certainly did not momentarily freeze and think something along the lines of, “Well, fuck. He’s cute.”

Logan doesn’t find things attractive (except Newton’s laws), and he is especially not attracted to another side. To Patton.

That is why Logan would never stand outside the door of one headache-inducing prince, seeking advice.

“Logan,” Roman sighed as he opened the door. “A pleasure, as always. How can I help you today?” The fanciful side flourished his arms, before dropping them and regarding Logan with a sour face.

Logan cleared his throat and readjusted his glasses. “I have recently had an incident in which I experienced uncomfortable feelings, and since you are one of the more emotional sides, I was hoping you could help me get rid of them.”

“What? You felt something?” Roman laughed heartily, until he saw Logan’s glare. “Oh, you’re not kidding? Well, then.” Roman’s eyes lit up in an alarming way that always meant the prince had a nasty plan in mind, typically having to do with make-up or something else Logan detested.

“No,” Logan warned preemptively, but it was too late. The cogs of Roman’s brain were already turning.

“So, who’s the lucky man?” Roman asked.

Logan nearly choked on air. How had he guessed? Damn the stupid, overdramatic prep!

Instead of saying that, however, Logan simply readjusted his glasses again and sniffed. “No one is. I merely experienced a moment in which I felt…” Logan struggled for a moment on what to say instead of the truth and came up blank. And he didn’t want Deceit popping up, as he always did when Thomas or the sides lied. “…all right, fine. I experienced…a mild attraction to someone. Just tell me how to get rid of it, please.”

Roman grinned. “Fine, Nerd Squad. I’ll help.” Without warning, he grabbed Logan’s arm and hauled the logical side into his room.

Logan gagged reflexively; he’d forgotten how stifling Roman’s room was. It was positively filled to the brim with the feeling of heroism and pride, with ornate tapestries hanging on every wall and a ghastly (and obviously) self-painted portrait hanging above Roman’s fancy bed.

“Can we make this quick?” Logan asked, groaning internally at the sheer number of trophies that littered the room’s shelves.

“Of course!” Roman gestured to a chair with far too many flowers stitched into it, which Logan unhappily took a seat in. Roman dragged a throne-like chair over so he could sit across from Logan. He whipped out a pen and paper from seemingly nowhere and adopted a calm, “open” expression.

“So, Logan,” he began in a voice that sounded a bit like a therapist, “what seems to be your problem today?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You know perfectly well what my issue is, Roman, let’s get to the point. How do I rid myself of these distracting emotions?”

Roman huffed and poofed away his pen and paper, leaning back into his chair. “I see what Patton means now. You’re no fun!”

Logan started to stand. “This was a waste of ti-”

“Nope, you’re staying, Mr. Roboto!” Roman pushed Logan back into his chair firmly and jumped back into his own. “All right, look. I can’t, under good conscience, bereave a lonely soul such as yours of romantic connection-”

“Then I will be taking my leave,” Logan began to get up again, but Roman continued.

“However, I can help you…er…deal with your emotions. So, while we’re in this space, do you promise to at least consider the propositions I make to you, knowing that I would not lead you astray when it comes to love?”

Logan considered it for a moment. Roman did say he just had to evaluate the points being made, not actually act on them. What was the worst that could happen from just hearing Roman out? Plus, he was a little desperate to end these accursed afflictions before they sucked away any more of his brain power. Might as well get it over with.

“Fine.”

“Perfect!” Roman’s grin, combined with his excited hand clap, made Logan want to rethink his answer. “Now, let’s get to the basics: you are in love with one of the other sides, right?”

“I wouldn’t call it love, so much as feeling…more emotions than usual in the side’s presence,” Logan corrected.

“Do you feel a deep, unrelenting urge to be by their side no matter what for the rest of time?” Roman’s voice grew until he was loudly and dramatically proclaiming the words. Aaand there was the migraine.

“No, I’ve already told you-”

“It was a rhetorical question, Nerd Who Will Forever Be Solo,” Roman said, “You’re definitely in love, whether you’ll admit it or not. Which one is it, may I ask? Patton or Virgil? Or is it-” Roman grumbled in disgust before spitting out, “- one of the Dark Sides?”

“I can’t tell you,” Logan shook his head, before adding, “Although it isn’t one of the Dark Sides.”

“Good. They’re nasty little buggers,” Roman huffed, “You’re making this more difficult, you know, by not telling me.”

“The result will be the same either way. You’ll make me lose my ‘crush’ on this side, and I’ll move on with my day,” Logan reasoned, putting airquotes around the childish term.

“Weeeell, while a crush can fade over time, I don’t think you can just ignore your own feelings, Logan.”

“Why not? I’ve been doing it quite adeptly for many years.”

“All I’m saying, Microsoft Word, is that maybe you should consider actually telling this side how you feel and seeing if they like you, too. Who knows, maybe you can actually increase your productivity by falling in love and heightening your dopamine levels. Not to mention it would increase the likelihood of the two of you coming to a compromise in any given argument, thus resolving more of Thomas’ internal fights.” By the time Roman was done, Logan was almost speechless. He would have been, in fact, if he hadn’t been Logan.

“Are you feeling all right, Roman? You just made genuinely logical points,” Logan pointed out, his shock fading into slight annoyance. Logical points were his thing.

“I know! I feel kind of weird, like you’re rubbing off on me,” Roman grimaced, dusting his hands off as if trying to get rid of Logan’s influence through the physical motion. Oh good, he was still an idiot.

“Still, I’ll have to consider what you’ve said.” Logan stood and hesitated before adding, “Thank you, I suppose.”

For all the effort that had taken to force that out, Roman didn’t even seem to hear him, too absorbed in frowning and muttering quietly about how horrible it was to be logical. Logan sighed and sank out of the room, reappearing in his own, much more comfortably exact one. He had a lot to consider.

~~~***~~~

Three hours later, and Logan hadn’t yet come to a definite conclusion. On one hand, acting on his feelings could result in more distractions (especially considering Patton’s usual style) in his everyday life. On the other hand, it might increase his and Thomas’ productivity by making Logan happier. Plus, a tiny, niggling part of his brain couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it would be to act on his internal desire to hug Patton and kiss him and make him feel loved and…

Holy Crofter’s Jam! Roman was indeed right – he was in love. With Patton. Fuuuuck.

But what to do about it?

Standing up from his desk, he decided to ask the only other person that might be able to help him. Five seconds later, he was knocking on Virgil’s door.

“What?” a voice called from inside.

“Virgil, can I speak with you for a minute?” Logan called. There was no reply for a couple moments.

Finally, the tired-sounding voice echoed out, “What do you want, Logan?”

“I have a…dilemma. I was wondering if you could help me figure out what I should do.”

Silence. Then, the sound of footsteps, and the door creaked open to reveal Virgil, purple headphones around his neck and hair tousled like he’d just been napping. Which, in all honesty, he probably had. Oops.

“What kind of dilemma?” he asked, yawning slightly.

“I am…in love with one of the other sides,” Logan admitted, steeling himself for Virgil’s reaction.

It was underwhelming, to say the least. Virgil merely shrugged and opened the door wider so Logan could step in. Once inside, Virgil flopped back onto his bed and asked, “Patton, right?”

Logan’s jaw dropped open, and he sputtered, “W-Well, er, yes. How did you know?”

Virgil fixed Logan with a look that made him clamp his mouth shut again. “It’s pretty obvious.”

“Roman didn’t figure it out,” Logan protested.

“Yes, well, Roman is Roman. He’s great at the big picture, not so much for the details,” Virgil sighed, “So, what’s the big deal? Are you worried he doesn’t have feelings for you?”

“No,” Logan frowned. That somehow hadn’t been an option he’d addressed. What if after all of this, Logan decided to tell Patton and he got rejected? What would he do then? Pretend everything was normal? But then Patton would know Logan had feelings for him, and it would be awkward, and he would wind up trying to ignore Patton, which would further degrade the situation and make Patton upset. Maybe he just shouldn’t tell Patton.

“Now I am,” he admitted.

“Relax, Specs, he likes you,” Virgil reassured in a slightly softer tone than usual.

“How do you-?”

“I just know, okay,” Virgil replied, waving a dismissive hand, “What’s the issue, then?”

“I just don’t know whether I should act on my feelings or not. After all, it could lead to decreased productivity because I would have to spend more time on our relationship,” Logan explained, “But, on the pro side, it could increase my productivity by increasing my dopamine production.”

“I know I’m not one to say this, but I think you’re overthinking this,” Virgil said, “Just tell him how you feel. Trust me, it’ll be better than obsessing over it.” Virgil trailed off and averted his gaze as he said the last part. Logan frowned but chose not to comment. Virgil would tell him if and when he felt like it.

“Are you sure that’s the best course of action?” Logan asked instead, restlessly tapping a pattern out on his knee.

“Yeah, I think so,” Virgil responded, “It sounds like you really like him, if your overanalyzation weirdness is anything to go by. Just make sure he’s happy, okay? And stop with that whole putting down his puns thing, that’s not cool.”

Logan wanted to say that Virgil sounded like Patton’s dad, but he decided to make the smart decision and not mention it.

“And also stop worrying about your productivity or whatever. That’s just weird. If you want a relationship, go for it. If not, don’t. Plain and simple,” Virgil continued. Logan nodded, his brow furrowing. Virgil was right; for once, ironically, he needed to follow his heart. Ugh.

“By the way, this is super off-topic, but do you think I’m doing okay in the videos now?” Virgil asked, scratching the back of his neck.

“Of course. I think your input has helped solve many of Thomas’ problems, including the Deceit debacle, and your demeanor is not at all unpleasant to be around. In fact, you are quite popular with the fans,” Logan responded, glad to finally be back on safe, logical ground again. He whipped out a histogram with four colored sections to illustrate his point. “Here is a diagram of all the sides’ popularity levels. As you can see-”

“Wow, okay, you’ve been in here too long,” Virgil groaned, quickly ushering Logan out of the room.

“Go talk to him and try not to screw it up,” Virgil muttered, before he slammed the door in Logan’s face.

“Reassuring,” Logan said sarcastically. He turned toward the kitchen, from which the enticing smell of cookies was floating up. Patton would most likely be there, probably doing that thing where he put one cookie on the rack for every cookie he put in his mouth. Logan always chided him for it because this method often resulted in a large quantity of cookies being consumed by Patton, but he couldn’t deny that he also found it oddly endearing.

This was it. The ultimate decision: mind versus heart. Would he pretend his feelings didn’t exist until they eventually stopped existing or would he confront Patton about it?

His feet were taking him down the stairs before he even fully processed his choice.

~~~***~~~

Sure enough, Patton was in the kitchen, intermittently stacking cookies into his mouth and onto the rack. Logan cleared his throat, and Patton whirled around, guiltily shoving the cookie he was holding behind his back.

“Logan! How you doing, buddy?” he cried, grinning that adorable, twinkling grin of his that seemed to light up the entire room. Goddamnit, this was going to be harder than Logan thought.

“Patton, I, er, need to talk to you about something.” Logan tried to ignore his word stumble and forged ahead, “You see, recently I’ve realized I have…well, I seem to have grown…you are…”

“Yes?” Patton stepped forward, directly into Logan’s personal space. This was decidedly not helpful. His smile had slid away to be replaced by a small, confused frown, presumably caused by Logan’s uncharacteristic loss for words.

“I like you,” Logan finished eloquently.

Patton’s eyebrows shot up, but he smiled and gave Logan a thumbs-up, “I like you, too, Logan!”

“No,” Logan sighed in exasperation. Why had he signed up for this? Feelings weren’t worth this stress. “I like like you. As in…I…I think I love you, Patton. No, I know I love you. And I understand that maybe you don’t feel the same, but if you do, then please let me know because I have talked to both Roman and Virgil today inside of their own rooms, and it has honestly been stressing me out so-”

He was cut off by Patton sweeping him into a bone-crushing hug. His mind short-circuited, and by the time he had rebooted, he realized they had just been standing like that for a full minute. It wasn’t bad, though. Actually, it was quite the opposite, but it hadn’t answered Logan’s question.

“So…is that a ‘yes’?” Logan asked hesitantly, his arms coming up to awkwardly hug Patton back.

Patton pulled away, giggling. “Yes, silly! After all, why did the proton blush? It was positively attracted to the electron!”

Logan put his head in his hands, but he couldn’t hold back a bemused smile. What had he gotten himself into?

A sound caught Logan’s attention, and he turned around. He didn’t see anything, but he could have sworn he heard hands slapping together. Shaking his head, he turned back to Patton and let his smile grow. It may have taken a lot to get here, but here he was, the Mind finally allowing himself to feel something – for the Heart, no less. How poetic (is what Roman would probably tell Logan when he found out).

“Can I kiss you?” The question was out before Logan could clap a hand over his everflapping gobtalker. Patton’s mesmerizing smile widened spectacularly, and he nodded silently. A blush turned his cheeks an adorable shade of pink, and Logan knew he too was probably as red as a solanum lycopersicum.

Logan leaned in, nervous and excited and utterly petrified. But then he was kissing Patton softly, and for just a moment, he swore all the clichés were right: It truly felt like fireworks.

Maybe emotions weren’t so bad after all. Maybe he could be a Badass BrainTM with a man in his life.

Quick Note: You can thank the Internet for supplying me with the fun proton/electron pun. ;) Anyway, hope you all enjoyed! <3

#hope you enjoyed #fanfiction #logicality #romance is in the air and logan would probably think it was an airborne disease #for a contest #based on a misquote #sanders sides

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southernfxckinghero-blog · 6 years

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Tutor.

Pairing | Bruce Banner x F!Reader

Word Count | 1,569 words

Warnings | Maybe language

Summary | Before Bruce ever became the Hulk, he was in college. The reader and Bruce meet one another in a class and when it's clear that she's having trouble, he comes to the rescue.

Note | Sorry for the long absence, I've been trying to take in the beautiful hellscape that is Infinity War. Remember that requests are open, and enjoy the story!

As much as [Y/N] loved her family, specifically her parents and aunt, she could have cursed them for convincing her to take a course on molecular physics. Not only did she not enjoy the subject at all, but she also had no business taking such a difficult course. Getting into college was a miracle - well, not really a miracle, [Y/N] was ranked twenty-third out of fifty-one at her high school graduation - and yet they had convinced her to do something far above her comfort and intelligence zones.

Now [Y/N] sat in a class with her hand sore from scribbling everything the professor, Dr. Thompson, was saying. None of it made a lick of sense, but she prayed that when she studied them later that she might be able to decipher what was going on. The lecture, while it made no sense, also managed to bore [Y/N] almost into a slumber. The young man a few metal chairs away kept glancing over with mild concern - it was obvious that she had no idea what was happening - but she had yet to notice him.

Once the lecture was finally over two hours later, [Y/N] left the bland white room and began her way to the ladies dorm with a yawn. It was barely two in the afternoon and she felt like she needed three years worth of sleep. The young man from before followed her out of the class quietly, hoping to catch up with her and offer his help - he had a brilliant mind, so his professors had all told him. "Uh, excuse me," his timid voice called out once he felt confident enough, "we're in the same molecular physics class, and I was wondering if you, uh, needed help with any of it?" It was a rushed question, almost showing just how nervous he was.

Curious, [Y/N] turned around to find the slightly taller young man standing awkwardly as he patiently awaited an answer. His hands clutched a stack of heavy books to his chest as his glasses slid a bit down his nose, his brunet hair a mess of curls, and his smile almost forced; she thought he was cute, but also appreciated the offer. "I would really appreciate it, actually," [Y/N] answered after a moment of agonizing silence, "my folks pushed me into the class even though I don't know what's going on, or want to be there." She smiled, offering some explanation as to why she looked like a lost puppy - apparently it was obvious, otherwise he wouldn't be offering her help. Along with his awkward composure, she noticed the untucked purple shirt and one size too large kaki pants that he wore; he looked sloppy, but that meant nothing about his personality or intellect.

With a much less forced smile and a silent sigh of relief, the young man visibly relaxed. "I can meet with you on Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons, along with Sunday. My schedule is full during the rest of the week," he offered in a conversational manner, "as a matter of fact, I happen to, uh, be free right now. Would you like to join me in the cafe?" A light blush covered the young man's cheeks, his fingers picking nervously at the face of his books. There were four books, all of them to do with a type of science. It was mildly intimidating for [Y/N] since she could hardly understand the science she was currently enrolled in.

The offer the seemingly nameless young man put out was quite kind, and while [Y/N] was hopelessly tired, she nodded her head in agreement. "I would love that," she grinned and began walking toward the cafe, "my name is [Y/N], by the way. [Y/N] [L/N]." Her eyes glanced at the sloppily dressed young man, hoping he would catch on and reply with his own name.

The young man's eyes widened and he almost came to a full stop, another blush dusting his cheeks in a light pink. "Right, uh, I'm so sorry," he apologized with an embarrassed stutter, "I'm Bruce. Bruce Banner, actually, but most people just call me Bruce because it's my first name." His voice trailed off when he realized he was babbling on about something so trivial. Like before, his nails picked at the books he held - a nervous habit.

Silence fell upon the pair as they continued to the cafe, thick and unnerving. Neither dared to break it for no particular reason, though [Y/N] hummed a familiar tune to herself. "An old Irish song, so my mother once told me," she murmured as they entered the cafe, "I never did understand the lyrics, but the rhythm always did stick with me." She added needlessly, approaching the register as Bruce nodded along. Her eyes scanned the board before she offered her favorite flavor of coffee and a little croissant to go with it, her hand instinctively going for her wallet.

Bruce handed a ten to the cashier before ordering his own beverage and food - a coffee with cinnamon and a small ham sandwich, an odd combo. "I was raised to always pay if out with a lady," he explained as the two went to sit, noticing the shocked expression [Y/N] briefly had, "Now, about the, uh, the course.. If you would, explain what you need help with." His books hit the booth beside him with a hard thud, gaining a few looks from other students.

Gratefully smiling, [Y/N] laid her own books beside her quietly. "I appreciate it, Bruce. None of my ex boyfriends had the decency to even hold the door open, so it means a lot," after realizing how awkward the statement had been, [Y/N]'s face danced with a red flush of embarrassment, "anyways, I don't really understand anything with the course. I mean, I've never been very good at any type of science." The waiter brought the couple their orders, giving the two an almost knowing smile.

Obviously confused at the look the waiter gave the two, Bruce sipped his piping hot coffee with a blissful smile. "Well we're going to have some work to do then," he chuckled slightly, a soft little laugh that made [Y/N] grin to herself, "and I doubt we'll get everything covered in just one day, so here's my number." He scribbled numbers down on a napkin, pushing his glasses back up his nose as they slipped. His hand brushed against her own as he handed her the napkin - both people flushed.

The rest of the day was filled with confusing sciences, molecular physics and more, and plenty of laughs. It was only when the day had reached darkness that the two decided - albeit hesitantly - that it was time to head to their respective dorms. Bruce offered to walk with [Y/N] to the women's dorm, which she gratefully accepted. Never did she expect to meet someone as smart as Bruce and actually get along with them, especially someone as adorably dorky as Bruce. "Although it was mostly studying, today was wonderful," she gushed quietly as they walked side by side, occasionally brushing against one another, "I hope that we'll get to hang out some more. For teaching purposes, of course." It was clear that feelings were beginning to develop, though [Y/N] still feared they would be one sided. This fear was set at ease when Bruce stopped and grabbed her hands shyly, gazing into her eyes with a soft smile.

To be fair, Bruce had stopped because they neared the entrance to the women's dorm - but when he realized that he had been right about [Y/N] flirting with him, he took the opportunity to set up a proper date. "Maybe not entirely teaching purposes," he suggested before leaning only slightly closer, "maybe this time we can go on a proper date.. if that's what you want, of course. I, uh, I wouldn't ever force anything-!" His words were cut short by [Y/N] pressing a feather light kiss to his cheek, her hands squeezing his reassuringly.

A fierce blushed covered both people's cheeks as they held one another, silently pondering to themselves what to do next. "I would love to go on a proper date with you, you big nerd," she playfully teased, "all you have to do is call upon me." She reached into her pocket with one hand before returning it to Bruce's hand, sliding a crumpled piece of paper into it. He smiled the most genuine smile she thought she'd ever see.

Without much thought, Bruce pressed his forehead against [Y/N]'s forehead, though he made no move to kiss her. "I have never met a woman like you - confident yet shy, quirky, intelligent, adorable," the shyness in his tone returned, "would you mind if I, uh, if I kissed you? I don't want to make you uncom-!" Again Bruce was interrupted by [Y/N]'s lips, but this time they pressed sweetly against his own. She was warm and soft and everything he had never knew he wanted, but now desperately craved.

Pulling away with half lidded eyes and a small giggle, [Y/N] gave Bruce a small wave goodbye and headed into the dorm - butterflies in her stomach. Bruce remained outside to think about how nothing would've changed had he not taken a chance, and he promised to always take chances that were worth it from then on. How was he supposed to know years later that he would create the Hulk?

#avengers #avengers drabble #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #Bruce Banner #Bruce Banner drabble #Bruce Banner imagine #Bruce Banner x Reader #The Hulk

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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James Wan Horror Movies Ranked

https://ift.tt/3Agt7Vy

James Wan has a new horror movie out this weekend, and it’s been far too long since we’ve been able to write that. As one of the singular genre filmmakers of his generation, Wan managed to launch three successful and pop culture defining horror franchises in less than a decade between Saw (2004), Insidious (2010), and The Conjuring (2013). And yet, the Australian director hasn’t stepped foot in a spooky house since 2016’s The Conjuring 2. Moving on to bigger and (maybe?) better things in Furious 7 and Aquaman, Wan’s new status as a blockbuster director caused many fans to wonder if his days in dark shadows were done.

Which is why this weekend’s Malignant is such an inviting proposition. Five years after walking away from personally helming Ed and Lorraine Warren’s on-screen adventures, Wan’s returned to his roots with an original horror movie that’s not part of any franchise. What a novel concept. To celebrate this change of fortune, the editors at Den of Geek have put their heads together and voted, coming up with a definitive ranking of Wan’s horror movies. You can trust us.

7. Malignant

Sometimes it takes a while to get back into the swing of things. While Wan deserves credit for championing an original idea in the modern world of sequels, prequels, and spinoffs—he even turned down helming The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It for this!—daring gambles don’t always payoff for everyone. Which might be a polite way of saying that for some of us (although not all), Malignant is a disappointment.

Built entirely around a plot twist we’re not going to spoil here, Wan’s Malignant takes the familiar concept of a protagonist (Annabelle Wallis) being wrongfully accused for supernatural crimes, and turns it on its head. The actual twist however has left folks divided. Some applaud how bold it is while others of us found it fairly underwhelming, and lacking a satisfying subtext or cohesiveness to make it worthwhile. We’re all in agreement though, it’s a stylish bit of eye candy… and that Wan’s done better before. – David Crow

6. Insidious: Chapter 2

As the second installment of Wan and frequent collaborator Leigh Whannell’s Insidious franchise, there was a lot of anticipation over how this horror sequel would follow-up on the cliffhanger ending to the first film. If you don’t recall—and here there be spoilers, by the by—that movie ended on the shocking revelation that Patrick Wilson’s repressed and mild mannered father, Josh, had become possessed by a ghost which has been chasing him since childhood. Worse, this spirit caused him to kill Lin Shaye’s delightfully kooky Elise! (Don’t worry, her soul gets better.) What will happen next to the poor Lambert family?

Movies

13 Best Blumhouse Horror Movies Ranked

By David Crow and 3 others

Movies

Insidious: Is The Further Real?

By Tony Sokol

Something a lot more rote, as it turns out. This is not to say that Insidious: Chapter 2 is a bad movie; it’s simply a much lesser one than what came before. From the film doubling down on a monster not nearly as intriguing as the Lipstick Demon from the first film to the picture failing to expand on the strange astral plane of the Further in a meaningful way, Chapter 2 is just a tad underwhelming—a horror follow-up going through the motions. Still, it allows Wilson to play secretly evil, so that’s fun! – DC

5. Dead Silence

Dead Silence was DOA in theaters and critically panned when it debuted in 2007, yet after the movie became available as a home release it scraped together a small audience that was mostly composed of very specific genre fans: those who are just plain shit scared of ventriloquist dummies! Directed and written by the horror dream team of Wan and Whannell, Dead Silence stars True Blood’s Ryan Kwanten as Jamie Ashen, a young widower who slumps back to his hometown looking for answers following his wife’s ‘death by dummy.’ Dogging him on his quest is New Kid Donnie Wahlberg in a wild, scene-stealing performance as a detective who seemingly can’t stop preening his facial hair.

The mythical boogeywoman of the piece is Mary Shaw, a ventriloquist who was once lynched in the town after a performance went awry and a child later died by mysterious circumstances. Jamie’s family were an essential part of her lynching, and now Mary is on the warpath from beyond the grave.

Dead Silence is incredibly silly, but an important step in Wan’s directing career. Throughout the film he plays with the kind of masterful sound design and jump scares that he eventually refined down to a sublime craft. Just like one of Mary Shaw’s dolls, all the parts are there but the movie is only possessed by a little soul that doesn’t do too much damage to your nerves. – Kirsten Howard

4. Saw

The movie that made Wan a household name (at least among movie nerds and horror hounds), Saw became the biggest horror franchise of the 2000s and launched a grim new subgenre of exploitation that’s been derisively (if fairly) dubbed “torture porn” ever since. It’s therefore easy to forget Wan’s original Saw really isn’t one of those movies. Oh, people are tortured on-screen in this gnarly nightmare. And it is very horrific, to be sure.

Yet unlike the many subsequent Saw sequels that came later, plus copycats like the Hostel franchise, Saw doesn’t take perverse pleasure in its characters’ suffering or imagine the villain as some kind of antihero. Jigsaw was originally a chilling serial killer in the David Fincher mold, and his original film had a surprisingly minimal amount of gore. Most of the picture is really about the dreadful suspense of anticipation as we wait for something horrible to happen when two men wake up inside a dilapidated industrial bathroom and are told they need to saw off their own feet to survive.

In truth, if this same exact script (minus the grisly flashback sequences) was presented a one-act Off-Broadway play in 2004, it would’ve likely been hailed as edgy and boundary-pushing art. Instead we got a horror classic that spawned a memorable, if ultimately trashy, B-horror franchise after Wan and co-writer Whannell left the series following the first outing. Fair trade. – DC

3. Insidious

Back in 2010 when Insidious was released, Blumhouse hadn’t yet become the horror behemoth it is today. So low budget but glossy horrors starring talented household names weren’t the norm. It wasn’t just these attributes that made Insidious a breakout which still holds up a decade later, however. It’s the fact that the movie is undeniably scary. It may use certain jump scare tactics at times but boy, do they work. Patrick Wilson and Rose Byrne star as a couple whose son is capable of astral projection, which has taken him into the nightmarish world of the Further and caused demonic figures to haunt the family.

The first half of the movie will have you leaping out of your seat. The second half though is more of a comedy, marked by the arrival of psychic Elise (Lin Shaye) and her sidekicks, Tucker (Angus Sampson) and Specs (Leigh Whannell, who also wrote the screenplay). Made for just $1.5 million, Insidious is good-looking and distinctive, with scenes in the Further sharing an aesthetic with Dead Silence, and a mythology that clearly had legs. To date three sequels have been made, with a fourth confirmed last year. – Rosie Fletcher

2. The Conjuring 2

As a horror sequel done right, Wan’s follow-up to the biggest horror movie of his career felt like a palate cleanser for the director. After helming the successful but tragically troubled production of Furious 7, Wan returned to his roots and delivered a fiendishly designed thrill ride. In The Conjuring 2, we again follow Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga’s fictionalized takes on Ed and Lorraine Warren, this time to London as they investigate the infamous “Enfield Poltergeist” (spoiler alert: it’s a demon).

Once again Ed and Lorraine play the good samaritans and help a young family in desperate need, and Wan still keeps it wildly entertaining and suspenseful, if not necessarily fresh. But as important as his gliding camera set-ups and ability to create new iconic images of evil out of seeming whole cloth—hello, there demon Nun!—it’s the humanity in both of Wan’s Conjuring films which elevate them above the rest of their franchise. Never mind the ghosts; the scene of Wilson crooning Elvis Presley to some beleaguered children is the stuff of movie magic. – DC

1. The Conjuring

James Wan couldn’t have picked better subjects for his paranormal investigation franchise than Ed and Lorraine Warren, the controversial demonologists who left behind countless diaries and recorded accounts of demonic possession, haunted houses, and other supernatural events they claim to have witnessed over their decades-spanning careers. They even opened a museum full of spooky artifacts in the back of their Connecticut home. This is a couple who enjoyed digging into the occult, and with The Conjuring, Wan showed just how much he loved telling stories about the Warrens.

Movies

The Conjuring Timeline Explained: From The Nun to The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It

By Daniel Kurland

Movies

How The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It Embraces Satanic Panic

By David Crow

The first film covers one of the Warrens’ most famous cases, the Perron family haunting, with more than a few embellishments thrown in for an effective ghost story. In the real-life account and the movie, Roger and Carolyn Perron (Ron Livingston and Lili Taylor) are haunted by an antagonistic spirit that wants their newly-purchased 18th-century farmhouse in Rhode Island all to itself. That’s where the Warrens come in to investigate the strange occurrences, like the smell of rotting flesh in the basement.

The chemistry between Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga, who bring the Warrens to life, is one of the movie’s greatest strengths, establishing one of the franchise’s most important themes: that love can defeat any evil. It’s their devotion to each other, and their will to help others in need, that allows them to overcome any supernatural obstacles in these movies. (It’s why the sequels spend so much time threatening to tear them apart.) More than the creepy set pieces—like a possessed Carolyn in the crawl space *shudder*—and the “based on a true story” tagline, it’s the Warrens as characters that people keep showing up for, and the first Conjuring cleverly sells their love story to an audience just expecting jump scares and demons. – John Saavedra

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amanda-teaches · 6 years

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LARP and the Real Girls

Summary: What would Episode 8x11- LARP and the Real Girl have been like with another cop around to catch Dean’s eye?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 8745 (I know, I know. Blame the wordy SPN writers).

Warnings: Canon-level violence, some swearing, near-death experience/angst

A/N: This is my first time doing an episode rewrite and it’s of the Season 8 episode: LARP and the Real Girl for @wi-deangirl77’s Fave SPN Episode challenge. It’s an exact rewrite of the episode with a reader character added in, so that’s why it’s so long. I hope y’all like my twist on it! Caveat: much of the dialogue in this fic was taken directly from the script. All credit goes to the Supernatural writers!

Before you’d worked in Farmington Hills, Michigan, you’d been a detective in New York City. If anyone had asked, you would’ve sworn you’d seen it all- every grisly way to murder someone known to man. But this, this one was new.

Even to you.

Ed Nelson, a seemingly mild-mannered nerd of an insurance-claims adjuster had literally been torn apart - in his own bedroom. You and your boss, Sheriff Jake Miller, had been the first on scene, but that hadn’t lasted for long. Not after the arrival of two incredibly sexy FBI agents.

You were immediately on guard. “So, Agents Taggart and Rosewood, what exactly brings the two of you to our small-town crime scene?”

“Now, hold up there, Y/N,” Sheriff Miller drawled out. “I’m sure these boys just want to help. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir,” the taller one, Agent Taggart, said respectfully. “We’re just here to help.”

You snorted derisively. “Yeah, I bet.”

The slightly shorter, yet still towering man, let out a quiet chuckle under his breath. When you shot him a glare, he had the gall to wink at you.

“And, you can call us Sam and Dean,” Agent Taggart continued, before he turned to your boss. “So, Sheriff, how about that tour I asked for?”

“He can do that,” you answered qucikly. “But, only if I keep your partner company while he does.”

“I work better on my own,” Dean replied, that cocky smile still gracing his face.

“Well, good for you, Agent, but as long as you’re in my crime scene, you’re going to be staying with me. Got it?”

His smile widened as he dropped his gaze to the ground. “Whatever you say, Officer.”

Sam and the Sheriff took off to the bedroom, while you followed Dean into the kitchen. You paused for just a second to admire the way he walked, his legs slightly bowed in the middle, before you noticed the strange device he was holding. It had a long antenna and bright flashing lights on it.

“What in the world is that thing?”

He looked back at you for a brief moment before answering. “Oh this? It’s just one of those high-tech FBI things.”

You laughed softly as a smile spread across your face. “High-tech, FBI things, huh? What does it do?”

“It measures, um, EMF.”

“Like from thunderstorms?”

“Yeah,” he said, agreeing a little too easily. “Thunderstorms.”

“Mmhmm….” you whispered, moving to stand by him. “And, that’s relevant how?”

“It’s, uh, it’s not,” he stammered, quickly closing the device and shoving it back into his suit pocket. “Let’s go meet the others.”

“Whatever you say,” you whispered under your breath as you followed him out the room. That was a little weird.

As you joined Sam and Sheriff Miller in the victim’s bedroom, you saw Dean discreetly shake his head at his partner, but you tore your attention away from them to listen to your boss share what he’d learned about the victim’s last call with Lance Jacobsen. “The two of them talked together for 15 minutes, and then Lance sent Ed here all kinds of angry texts. Some of them were your typical threat stuff, but some were a little weird.”

“Weird how?” Sam asked.

“Like, uh... ‘You shall bleed for your crimes against us,’ followed by the emoticon of a skull. And, uh, this beauty – ‘I am a mage. I will destroy you.’ These kids today with their texting and murder. My men just brought Lance into the station for questioning.

Sam started to open his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “Then, let’s get down there and talk to him.” You started to walk towards the door before turning back to the men. “You coming, Agents?”

Dean smiled again, making your heart instinctively skip a beat. “Oh, we wouldn’t miss it for the world, Officer.”

Once you’d made it back to the station’s interrogation room, you let Sam and Dean take charge. If the FBI agents so badly wanted to run this case, then you’d let them. That was, until the point where they inevitably messed up and you had to take over.

Like, right about now, when your suspect was blubbering all over your interrogation table.

“Lance?” Dean asked, in a gruff attempt to calm him down. “Lance, just – just breathe. Just breathe. You're fine.”

“We just need to ask you a few questions,” Sam added. “Try to calm down.”

You smiled comfortingly at Lance as he somehow managed to take a deep breath and wipe his eyes, but you mostly stayed quiet while Sam and Dean questioned him about his texts.

“No,” Lance yelled antsily. “I mean, they were from me, but they weren't from me me!”

Dean frowned at him while you struggled to hold in your laugh. “Did you really think that sentence was gonna clear things up?”

“I'm sorry,” Lance said with a sigh. “This is all a big misunderstanding. Those text messages were from Greyfox the Mystic to Thargrim the Difficult.” When he noticed the confused looks on your faces, he elaborated. “Our characters in Moondoor. Moondoor is a game that Ed and I play. We're LARPers. Live-action role-playing?”

“Right,” Dean muttered. “LARPing. Good times.”

“We play Moondoor every other weekend at Heritage Park. All the info about it is on our website.”

You suddenly stood up from where you had been leaning against the wall. “Wait a second. Did you say Moondoor?”

“Uh...yes,” Lance whispered, clearly a little freaked out by your abrupt interest.

“Your queen at this Moondoor wouldn’t happen to be Carrie Heinlein, would it?”

Lance visibly brightened at the sound of her name. “Why, yes! That’s our beloved queen.”

Your heart dropped. “Dammit,” you whispered before fleeing the room without another word.

Once you’d made it out into the hallway, you pulled out the phone and speed dialed your friend’s number as fast as you could. “Carrie, it’s me. Call me as soon as you get this please. It’s important. Seriously important.”

“Everything okay?” Dean asked as he closed the interrogation room door to join you in the hallway. “You seemed pretty upset just now.”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled. You started to wave him off but then reconsidered. “It’s just, Carrie, the queen, she’s my roommate and best friend. I knew she did this Moondoor thing on the weekends, but I didn’t know exactly what it was all about.” You paused for a second, a hitch coming into your throat. “If she really knew the victim, she’s going to be devastated.”

Dean reached out and placed a gentle hand on your arm. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “It’s just, if she knew these guys, I want to be the one to tell her about Ed’s death before anyone else can. I owe her that.”

As you felt Dean squeeze your arm gently, you looked down at his hand and then back into his warm, comforting eyes. There was just something about him, something different, something magnetizing.

FBI agent or not, he was impossible to resist.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Sam exited the interrogation room, breaking the two of you apart. “You two okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” you muttered, trying to wet your suddenly dry mouth. “What now, Agents?”

“Let's check out the Moondoor website,” Sam said. “See if Lance's story checks out.”

Dean cleared his throat and looked away from you quickly. “Good plan, Sammy. Let’s do that.”

“Okay…” Sam whispered hesitantly, clearly sensing the strange vibe that hung between you and Dean. “Let’s, uh, let’s go then.”

You all but ran to your desk computer and pulled up the Moondoor website. Sam and Dean took up positions on either side of you, with Dean leaning just a little too close for comfort. “So, uh, here it is.”

Sam leaned down to read over your shoulder. "Welcome to Moondoor, Michigan's largest LARPing game."

Dean scoffed slightly, his breath right next to your ear, sending shivers down your body. “And I thought we needed to get out more.”

You clicked on the picture gallery, scrolling through until you found pictures of Lance at last night’s feast.

“There's our guy,” Sam stated.

“I guess that officially means he couldn’t have killed Ed,” you mumbled, scrolling through a few more pictures.

“Huh,” Dean chucked. “It actually looks kind of awesome.”

Sam shot Dean a look, but you couldn’t help but agree. Carrie had been begging you to join Moondoor for months, but you’d never had the time. Looking at the pictures now, you kind of regretted that choice.

“All right, there's a video,” Sam said. “Let’s watch it.”

You pulled it up and let it play, pausing only when it got to an image of your roommate.

Dean stared at the screen in disbelief. “Wait, is that…”

“Yeah,” Sam whispered. “It’s Charlie.”

“Charlie?” you echoed incredulously. “No, no, that’s my roommate. That’s Carrie.”

Dean and Sam shared another look before turning back to you. “Y/N, I think we need to have a little talk.”

“Wait just one second,” you yelled as you paced back and forth in the small break room that was the only place in the entire station where the three of you could have some privacy. “You’re saying Carrie’s real name is Charlie?”

Sam shrugged slightly. “Well, that’s not technically her real name, but that was her name when we worked our case with her.”

“I don’t believe this!”

“Well, it’s true, Y/N, whether you like it or not,” Dean said, a bit of an edge coming into his voice. “Charlie helped us out with a case about a year ago and then she disappeared. I guess she came here.”

“Why would she lie to me? I’m her best friend!”

“It’s complicated,” Dean admitted. “The case we worked together was...unusual. After it was over, Charlie couldn’t use her name anymore.”

“So, what? She’s like in witness protection or something?”

Sam smiled and flashed Dean a knowing look. “Something like that.”

Before you could ask them what the hell they meant by that, Sheriff Miller burst in the room. “Y/N, Agents, come quick! It’s Lance. He’s dead.”

By the time you, Sam, and Dean had seen the body and watched the surveillance video, it had become abundantly clear that the only thing that connected these two deaths was Moondoor and the strange tree tattoo on both of the victims’ arms. There was only one course of action left to take: head to Moondoor and talk to Carrie, or Charlie, or whatever the hell her name was.

The three of you arrived at the Moondoor Camp by late morning. You’d been there a few times before, but only ever briefly and with Carrie. Darn it, Charlie.

By all outward appearances, it was like your basic Renaissance fair, except all of the people there were pretending that they actually lived in Medieval times. Dozens of people were milling around, but your attention was drawn to a man standing in front of the stocks. You rolled your eyes once you recognized him. “Gerry…”

Dean looked over at you and then back at the man standing in front of an imprisoned Shadow Orc. “What, you know that guy?”

“I guess you could say that. He tries to pick me up every time I’m here. Fancies himself a real ladies man.”

Dean laughed. “He’s not, I assume?”

“You assume correctly,” you agreed with a soft smile, earning another heart-stopping wink from Dean.

After concluding his business, Gerry began to walk away, but Dean stopped him. “Excuse me. Hi. Uh, you are a LARPer, yeah?”

“I prefer the term ‘interactive literaturist,’” Gerry said before he noticed you. “Ah, Lady Y/N! You have returned.”

You frowned. “Hi, Gerry.”

Gerry flourished his hands dramatically. “I do not know this Gerry of who you speak. My name is Boltar the Furious!”

You rolled your eyes while Dean continued. “Right. Uh, I’m Special Agent Rosewood. This is special Agent Taggart.”

“Hold!” Gerry yelled. He pulled down the hood of his costume and dropped the pomp and circumstance in his voice. “Um, guys, we're not doing the whole genre-mash-up thing this weekend. We only do that every third month.”

“It’s not a genre mash-up, Gerry,” you groaned. “This is serious police business. We need to see Carrie.”

“Serious police business?” Gerry scoffed. “With those fake badges?”

“These aren't fake badges,” Sam said quickly.

Gerry smiled smugly. “Uh, yeah, they are, and they're very good, but, um, well, the I.D. number shifted to 10 digits with, uh, two letters mixed in at the end of the year, and, uh, the seal's from last month. Really good work.”

You looked questioningly at Dean as Gerry continued. “It’s just – it’s a tournament weekend, okay guys, so you got to follow the rules. If there's no rules – chaos. Resume!” he yelled, before pulling his hood back on. “If you would like to join the army of Moons, the queen is always on the lookout for new squires.”

“Yes,” Dean said. “Right. Uh, we would like to see your queen now, please.”

“Well, the queen's calendar is booked up months in advance. But if you wish to witness what's in store for you in her army, her highness is overseeing new squires on the pitch as we speak.”

Sam and Dean nodded and started to walk away, but you grabbed their arms and pulled them aside. “Woah, woah, woah, Agents. Is what he said true? Are those fake badges?”

Sam looked down at the ground while Dean smiled at you sheepishly. “Uh, kinda, but we’ll explain everything, I swear.”

“I can’t believe this!” you yelled. “Did you know I could arrest the both of you right now for impersonating an FBI agent?”

“We know,” Dean said, holding up his hands. “But, just give us a chance to explain, please. I promise, once we find Charlie, everything will make sense.”

“It better,” you growled. “Or I’m going to haul the both of you right back down to the station, this time, in cuffs.”

You led the way up to the practice field where Charlie was overseeing the swordfighting. You recognized her right away, easily defeating all of the other squires with her favorite sword, but you didn’t make a move towards her. A part of you wanted to cheer for her, but, with the uncertain place that everything stood, you didn’t really know if you should.

So, instead, you, Sam, and Dean decided to wait by the edge of the field for Charlie to finish her fight. As soon as she defeated her opponent and removed her helmet, the crowd broke into cheers.

She began to address the crowd about the missing men. In the middle of her address, she spotted you and flashed a smile, but, the second she saw Sam and Dean, her face fell. “Oh, blerg,” she muttered before turning back to the crowd. “Uh... The queen needs some royal ‘we’ time. Talk amongst thyselves.”

Charlie stalked away to her tent, signaling you to follow her, but you stopped when Dean bent down to pick up the foam sword. “Nice balance,” he muttered in awe.

“Dean!” you chastigized, drawing his attention. “Two dead men, remember?”

“Right,” he whispered, still holding onto the sword. “Let’s go.”

Once you reached the tent, Charlie turned to you with a plastered-on smile. “Y/N! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you, Carrie, or should I call you Charlie?”

“So, they told you,” she moaned as she sent Sam and Dean a glare.

“Yeah, they told me. Why didn’t you?! I thought we were best friends.”

“We are, Y/N! That’s why I couldn’t tell you. It’s...it’s…it’s...”

“Complicated. I know, I know.”

“It’s way more than complicated! Those two,” she yelled, gesturing at Sam and Dean, “are the reason I had to become Carrie Heinlein. They killed Charlie Bradbury and now they’ve killed this identity too.”

You started to say something, but you were lost. “Wait what?”

Charlie turned to glare at Sam and Dean, her hands on her hips. “I guess you didn’t tell her everything.”

“No,” Dean said with a sheepish smile. “We figured we’d leave that to you.”

“Would someone just tell me?!” you exploded before the energy suddenly drained out of you, making you plop down into a nearby chair.

Charlie sat down in front of you, a look of compassion on her face. “Y/N, these two aren’t actually FBI agents.”

“Well, I knew that much. Who are they?”

“They’re monster hunters.”

You dropped your jaw. “They’re what?”

“Monster hunters. And, if they’re here, that means monsters are here.” She turned to face Sam and Dean. “Why do I have such bad luck? What am I – some kind of monster magnet? Is there such a thing as a monster magnet? You know what? Don't answer that. I don't care. What I care about is not getting my other arm broken... or dying.”

“I’m so confused…” you whispered.

“Well, you won’t be for long,” Charlie vowed. “Because we’re leaving before these two get us wrapped up in whatever monster hunt they’re on. I'm dropping my sword and walking off the stage, bitches. Have fun storming the castle.”

“Charlie. Charlie!” Dean yelled, drawing her attention. “You can’t leave. Neither of you can. Greyfox and Thargrim – uh, Ed and Lance – they're not missing. They're dead.”

Charlie turned to look at you, and, despite the lies, your heart went out to your best friend. “They’re right, Charlie. I have no idea what the hell is going on, but I do know this: two men are dead and it’s my job to catch their killer. I need help.” You stopped and looked at Sam and Dean. “From all of you.”

“Drawn and quartered and bleeding out?” Charlie shuddered at the table the four of you were sitting around. “Please stop talking again. So what do you think did this?

Dean frowned. “Well, aside from the, uh, mark, and them both being LARPers, there's really not much else to go on.”

Charlie picked up the picture of the tree symbol on the victims’ arms. “Wait, I've seen this before. It's a Celtic magic symbol. At least it was in my favorite video game. Does that help? Can Y/N and I go now?”

Sam shook his head. “It's a start, but no. Um, listen. What can you tell us about Ed and Lance?”

Charlie shrugged. “Good guys. Two of the best members of the queen's ever-shrinking army.”

"‘Ever-shrinking’?" you asked.

Charlie nodded. “My kingdom has had a lot of bad luck lately, probably 'cause of me, but maybe it's tied to this. A month ago, one of my guys had both her ankles broken before battle. Before that, I had three people have hospital-worthy accidents while at home. You think there's any connection there?”

You and Dean looked at each other and shared a subtle nod while Sam continued the questioning. “Did they have any enemies in common?”

“In real life? No. Everyone gets along famously. In the game, though…” Charlie got up and walked over to the map of Moondoor. “...they had tons of enemies. Red reps the followers of the Moon – my peeps. Green's for Elves, blue's for Warriors of Yesteryear, and black's for Shadow Orcs – total d-bags. This weekend is the Battle of the Kingdoms to see who wears the Forever Crown. This weekend, each faction is definitely an enemy of me and mine.”

Dean stared at the board in excitement. “You know, if you, uh, move your archers back and your broadswordsmen to the west...

Charlie stared where he was gesturing, her excitement growing to match his. “Huh. Fight the warriors.”

“Yep.”

“Hey, good call.”

“Thanks,” Dean said with a smile.

“What about the southern wall?”

“Guys!” you and Sam yelled at the same time. “A little focus please?”

“Right. Sorry,” Dean said, while Charlie looked down sheepishly.

Sam took over the talking while Dean and Charlie continued to quietly move the figures around on the map. “So maybe, uh, someone from one of the other kingdoms got ahold of real magic and started using it to weaken your army.”

“But why not just come after me?” Charlie asked. “And why the escalation?”

“We don’t know,” you responded. “That’s what we need to find out.”

“And by we,” Dean announced, “you mean Sam and me. We will canvass the kingdoms. The two of you should get out of here. We don't want you to get hurt.”

“Whoa, wait,” Sam said, holding up his hand. “Charlie knows Moondoor a lot better than we do. We need her. And, Y/N’s a cop. She could help.”

“Sam, I think we can take care of a bunch of accountants with foam swords.”

“We need all the help we can get, Dean,” Sam argued back. “People are dying.”

“My point,” Dean stressed, “which is usually yours, is that they should get somewhere safe and get back to a normal life.”

You decided to push back. “Hey, wait just a minute, Dean. This is my case. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want to leave,” Charlie admitted, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Thank you,” Dean announced triumphantly.

“Wait second, Winchester. I want to leave, but the queen, she has to stay. I mean, Sam is right. People are dying. That can't happen on my watch. And you know what? I am tired of running. I like my life here.” She moved to stand by you. “I like my life with Y/N. I'm gonna stay and fight for it.”

You smiled gratefully at her as Sam’s phone rang. He spoke briefly on it before hanging up. “So, the toxicology report came back on Lance. Nothing. But the medical examiner said his body showed clear signs that he was killed by belladonna.”

“The porn star?” Dean and Charlie asked simultaneously.

“No, not the porn star,” you groaned with a roll of your eyes.

“The poison,” Sam added.

“Oh,” Dean and Charlie said, again shrugging simultaneously.

You rolled your eyes even harder this time as Sam continued. “Um, however, they couldn't find a trace of it in his system.”

Dean nodded. “Just like they couldn't find ropes in Ed's apartment.”

Sam turned to look at Charlie. “Charlie, I'm gonna need to borrow your laptop.”

Charlie shook her head. “There are no laptops in Moondoor.”

“I knew I didn’t join this thing for a reason,” you muttered.

“What?” Charlie yelled. “There are rules.” She sent a wink your way. “But there is a tech tent four tents down.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “How about you guys go canvas, and I'll dig into these accidents and this mark?”

“Okay. I'm gonna need the full wiki on where you guys have been. But first,” she added, turning to Dean and you, “you're gonna have to ditch the suits if you're gonna walk and talk with the queen.

A little less than half an hour later, you were standing in a small alcove off of Charlie’s main tent, adjusting the pleats on your long, medieval dress. “Why does Charlie get to wear pants but I have to wear a dress?” you grumbled.

You took a deep breath before walking back out into the main room where Dean and Charlie were waiting. Dean had his back to you, but he still took your breath away in his outfit.

His form-fitting pants hugged his lean legs, highlighting the muscles he built up from years of physical activity, or hunting as you’d learned. Your eyes travelled up his toned, tunic-covered back and swept over the chainmail and arm guards that somehow made him seem even more ruggedly handsome.

You let out a labored breath as you continued to stare at him. Boy, were you in trouble here….

Before you could think anything else, Charlie noticed you and smiled. “Y/N, good! You’re ready.”

Dean turned to meet your eyes and you could hear him breathe out a strangled wow the moment he saw you. Well, at least you were having just as much of an effect on him as he had on you.

You flashed him a smile. “Hey, Dean. Nice outfit.”

“Right back at you,” he said with a grin.

Charlie moved her gaze between the two of you with a sly smile and a raise of her eyebrow. “Wow, you two, get a room!”

“CHARLIE!” you yelled, while Dean smiled and looked down with a blush. “What the hell?!”

“Oh, come on, like it wasn’t obvious,” she mumbled under her breath.

You shook your head and gave her a pointed glare as the two of you followed Dean out of the tent. Dean stopped briefly to pick up a wooden sword before the three of you continued on with Charlie as your guide.

You hung back a little during the walk, scanning the crowd as you listened to Dean and Charlie catch up. You kept your face neutral, smiling only when you overheard Dean call Charlie a hero. You knew that even though the only thing you knew for sure about Dean was that he had lied to you, you instinctively trusted that he was a good man. Moments like this just reinforced that.

Charlie stopped frequently on her way around the camp, asking people here and there if they recognized the picture of the tree symbol. She seemed to be hitting all the major groups: the followers of the Moon, the elves, and the warriors. The only group she hadn’t asked were the Shadow Orcs.

“The Shadow Orcs,” Charlie said. “Last group on the list, impossible to find.”

“Wait,” Dean said, suddenly remembering something. “I know where we can find one. We met him on the way in, Y/N, remember? The guy in the stocks.”

“Yeah,” you answered with a smile. “The guy with the fake teeth.”

Charlie grinned right along with you. “Perfect. Maybe he can tell us what the frack this thing is.”

You, Dean, and Charlie took off towards the stocks where the Shadow Orc, Monty, was still locked up. “Death to the queen! Death to the usurper!” he yelled forcefully.

Dean drew his wooden sword and hit the stocks with it, earning a growl and a “Death to her manservant!” from the Orc and a surprised look from Charlie.

“What?” Dean asked, looking at Charlie. “Well, there's no laptops in Moondoor, there's no Geneva Convention, either.”

“I’m with Dean,” you agreed with a nod, leading him to flash Charlie a self-satisfied smile before he turned back to Monty and held out the picture of the tree symbol. “Hey. Have you seen this?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said quickly before realizing what he’d said and trying to backpedal. “No. No, I haven't seen it.”

Dean immediately put his sword under Monty’s chin, causing Monty to let out a startled cry. You leaned down and looked him right in the eye, offering him a small smile. “Hey, I’d answer his questions if I were you. He doesn’t exactly respond well to being lied to.”

“Okay,” Monty yelled in a panic. “It's the Shadow King's family crest.” Then, he remembered his role, getting his Shadow Orc bravado back. “You'll never find him in the Black Hills.”

Dean turned to Charlie. “Black Hills?”

“The forest behind the playground. Come on,” she answered, tapping Dean on the arm before walking away. You threw Monty a whispered ‘thank you’ before you and Dean rushed to follow her into the forest.

Once you were partway down the path, Gerry, the man who had helped you when you’d first arrived rushed over to the three.

“My queen. There you are. I've been searching everywhere for you.” He turned and looked at you with another appraising smile. “Ah, Lady Y/N. It brings me pleasure to see that you have decided to stick around.”

“I’m sure it does, Gerry,” you muttered indifferently.

“The name is Boltar the Furious!” he shouted angrily before he realized who he was talking to. He paused to regain his composure and turned back to Charlie, nodding his head in Dean’s direction. “Has this... oaf attempted to harm you with his blasphemous metalworks?”

Charlie frowned and brushed him off. “Boltar, he's with me. This is my new... handmaiden. We seek an audience with the Shadow King.”

Gerry dropped his mouth and shook his head in surprise. “Uh, these hills are not safe. I beseech you, my queen, you should return to camp.”

Dean nodded and turned to face Charlie formally. “He's right... your worshipfulness. Uh, may I have a moment before you take your leavings?”

Charlie agreed and the three of you walked away from Gerry so Dean could drop the act. “Handmaiden?”

“He was suspicious. I panicked,” Charlie insisted as you broke into laughter.

With a long sigh, Dean ignored you and kept right on talking to Charlie. “All right, look,” he growled. “You take my phone. Find Sam. Y/N and I will find the shadow dorks.”

“But I can help!” Charlie assured.

“Yeah, you are helping by finding Sam. Y/N and I will handle this. Now, go.”

You waited for Charlie to walk away before you and Dean turned back to Gerry. Dean flashed him a smile. “Lead the way to the Orcs, Bolty.”

Gerry frowned. “Speak when spoken to, handmaiden.”

“Shut up, Gerry,” you snapped, earning a laugh from Dean and a grimace from Gerry. “Just take us to the Orcs.”

An hour later, you, Dean, and Gerry were on your way back to camp, having made no progress in your search for the Shadow Orcs.

“Well, that was a bust,” Dean groaned. “You sure the Shadow Orcs are even out there?”

“For a handmaiden, you certainly ask many questions,” Gerry chided. “Yes, I am positive. They're just very good at hiding themselves.”

“So, what do we do now?” you asked, brushing the forest dirt off of your dress.

Gerry smiled triumphantly. “A plan has sprung to mind that will draw the Shadow King to us. We shall take the Shadow Orc held in stock, offer him up as a prisoner exchange.”

Dean grinned. “Draw him out and beat him down. I like your style, Boltar.”

“Y/N and I shall retrieve the prisoner. You,” he added, gesturing at Dean, “tend to the queen's laundry and chamber pots, and then meet us back here.”

“Um,” you interjected, holding up your hand, “I think I’ll stick with Dean.”

Gerry frowned. “If you must,” he acquiesced before walking away just as Sam was walking up.

“Nice outfit,” Sam remarked with a laugh as he took in Dean’s costume.

“You love it.”

Sam turned to smile at you. “Y/N, you look beautiful.”

“Why, thank you, Sam,” you replied with a blush.

Dean immediately frowned and stepped closer to you. “Stop flirting and get on with it, Sammy.”

“Right,” Sam said, smiling and backing off. “Well, while you were, uh, playing dress-up, I found out that the mark…”

“Belongs to the Shadow Orcs,” Dean finished with a smile.

“Yeah. And they're using fairy magic.”

“What, like real fairy magic?” you asked. “Are you guys serious?”

“Deadly,” Sam answered. “Whoever gets marked with this ‘Tree of Pain’ gets magically ganked.”

“Oh my gosh...” you whispered, holding your head in pain. “I’m gonna need a serious drink when this is all over.”

Dean placed a comforting hand on your shoulder before turning back to Sam. “All right, how do we stop it?”

“Find whoever cast the spell, and take them out. No more whammy, no more marks. No more marks, no more dead bodies.”

“Okay, well, perfect,” Dean announced. “Our, uh, pal, Boltar the chatty, is getting the, uh, Shadow Orc prisoner. We're gonna do a little prisoner exchange, try to draw the king out of hiding.” He stopped to smile. “It was my idea.”

“Yeah, sure it was,” you scoffed, earning a surprised glare from Dean.

Sam, on the other hand, ignored your comment and looked back and forth between the two of you, as if only just realizing that someone was missing. “Where's Charlie?”

“What’re you talking about?” you asked, suddenly alarmed. “Isn’t she with you?”

“She was with you.”

Dean shook his head emphatically. “No, I sent her to you.” Noticing Sam’s blank expression, he began to walk around frantically, calling out for your friend. “Charlie? Your highness?”

He checked her tent before turning back to Sam. “You know what – she's got my phone. Try it.”

Sam pulled out his phone and pressed a button, shaking his head when there was no answer.

“Well, then where the hell is she?” Dean yelled, looking at you with a worried expression.

What had happened to Charlie?

Gerry and Monty the Orc had rounded up some flashlights in exchange for joining your search through the forest for Charlie. Gerry, knowing the terrain, led the way, while Monty, Dean, Sam, and you followed.

“I swear, if anything's happened to her…” Dean declared threateningly.

“It’ll be okay,” you whispered to him. “She’s strong. She’ll be okay.” Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed his hand for comfort. He looked down at it in surprise, but, before you could rethink your decision and pull your hand away, he returned your squeeze, interlacing his fingers with yours.

You were too startled to do anything more than put one foot in front of the other as Sam took over the talking. “Dude, we checked all the tents. We'll talk to these guys. We'll find her.”

As Gerry and the others stopped in a small clearing, Dean released your hand and straightened up. He opened his mouth to speak until he was interrupted by Monty, the Shadow Orc, cawing like a bird.

“Uh...what is he doing?” you asked softly, but before anyone could answer, similar bird calls echoed back through the trees and three Shadow Orcs stepped into the clearing.

“Well, that answers that question,” Dean muttered with a laugh as Gerry took the lead with the questioning.

“Greetings, heretics.”

“You should kneel before me, cur,” snapped the Orc with the Tree of Pain crest on his tunic.

Dean stepped forward, clearly growing annoyed with the play-acting. “All right, why don't you let me...”

“Silence!” Gerry yelled, making Dean stop in surprise. “Now, before we exchange, a few announcements.” Gerry dropped his exaggerated voice as the Orc removed his fake teeth. “Um, there is a peewee-league soccer playoff game tomorrow on the alpha field. We don't want to freak out the mundanes, so we got to move the Battle of Kingdoms to the beta field.”

“Seriously, Gerry!” you yelled. “My best friend is missing! Could you focus?!”

“All right. That's it,” Dean growled, drawing his gun. “You know what? I'm gonna do this the old-fashioned way.”

“Dean, don't,” Sam warned.

“What?”

“Come on...” he pleaded.

Dean frowned, clearly past annoyance. “No, I'm –”

Gerry stepped forward to diffuse the situation, ignoring your signal to stay out of it. “I told you there are –”

“Shut up,” Dean snapped before stepping forward and pointing his gun at the Orc. “All right. I need real answers. This here is a real gun, see?”

To emphasize his point, Dean shot at the ground.

“Whoa! Whoa!” the Orc cried, holding up his hands. “Hold! Hold! Geez!”

You stepped up and put your hand on Dean’s back. “Okay, Dean, I think he gets the point.”

Dean lowered his gun slightly but kept his eyes on the Orc. “Now, start talking. Where's the queen?!”

“I don't know!”

“Yeah, well, your little family crest there tells a different story, pal.”

The Orc looked down at his shirt in disbelief. “This?”

“Yeah,” Dean said sarcastically. “That.”

You stepped forward, ignoring the appreciative stares from the Orcs as you did. Dean, on the other hand, growled at them in warning. “Where did you get the design for that crest?”

“Uh, I got sick last month after this thing just appeared on my arm. I thought it looked really cool, so I turned it into my family crest. I mean, after my dermatologist said it wasn't malignant.”

Sam stepped forward to join the two of you. “Dean, he's not our guy. He's just another vic.”

The Orc nodded vigorously. “My name is Max Hilby. I'm an attorney. I have no idea where the queen is, but if you let me go right now, I won't press charges. I promise. Um…” He paused to take of his fake ears and hold them out to Dean. “Here. Uh, take them. Please.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you replied. “You can leave now. This is official police business.”

When the Orcs hesitated, Dean waved his gun to the side. “Go. Go! Go!”

The three Orcs took off running and you and Dean turned to face Sam, Gerry, and Monty. Monty took out his fake teeth, his face falling when he met your eyes. “Is the queen really in danger?”

Dean nodded, leading Monty to straighten up with resolve. “Okay, we got – there was something odd down by the creek. It's this weird tent. It's not one of ours. It's kind of creepy.”

“Why are you being so helpful all of a sudden?” Sam asked.

“Look, I harbor an epic crush on the queen,” Monty admitted. “Maybe you could put in a good word for me when you find her.”

“I don't think you're her type,” Dean said with a smile as you laughed in agreement.

“What?” Monty asked, clearly confused. “You mean she's not into Orcs?”

You rolled your eyes and drew his focus back in. “Monty, this creepy tent you mentioned. Where exactly is it?”

A few minutes later, you, Dean, and Sam, had ditched Monty and were well on your way to the tent. Unfortunately, unlike Monty, Gerry wasn’t so easily deterred.

Dean glanced back at him, a frustrated look on his face. “Why don't you take off, Bolty? We got it from here.”

“Yeah,” you added. “We can handle this.”

“A handmaiden and a time traveler rescue the queen? I think not, kind lady.”

Sam grimaced. “Look, this isn't a game, Boltar. The queen, our friend, is in real danger. You could get hurt.”

“I will not leave my queen in peril!” Gerry announced, but, before you could argue any further, the four of you arrived at the tent: too late to turn back now.

Dean and Sam pushed the flap aside and entered the tent quickly, leading the way with their guns drawn. You were expecting to see Charlie tied up, or worse, but you definitely weren’t expecting what you saw: Charlie sitting on the bed, full-on making out with her captor.

Dean loudly cleared his throat, breaking them apart.

“Dudes. If the tent is rockin', don't come a-knockin'.”

You stepped forward. “Charlie! You’re hooking up?! What? We thought you were in danger.”

“I was,” Charlie insisted as her companion got to her feet.

“No, it's him! My master! Run!”

“What are you talking about…” you whispered as the three of you turned back to look at Gerry, who was removing his hood. Too slowly, you realized what the woman meant: Gerry was the one behind all of this.

Dean and Sam raised their guns, but Gerry acted faster. “No guns in Moondoor, gentlemen. Gilda, if you please?”

The woman’s face fell, but she quickly moved her hand, turning the guns into feathers that fell to the ground.

Dean lifted his hands up and moved to step in front of you. “Well, now what, Gerry?”

Gerry’s face scrunched up in anger. “My name is Boltar the Furious! My plan was, after getting rid of all of my competition, to win the battle tomorrow, convincing the queen that I should be her king.”

Charlie sighed and rolled her eyes before looking at Gilda.

“But then Y/N and you two idiots showed up, and I was forced to improvise. Rescue the damsel in distress from Orcs, become king, kill you both – that'll work, too.”

“What about me, Boltar?” you asked, stepping past Dean to turn on the charm. “You gonna kill me too?”

“I could never do that, Y/N. I’ll just wipe your memory, right along with the queen’s. Then, you can return to Moondoor at our side! Every king needs a mistress.”

“Ew, gross…” Charlie muttered as Dean grabbed you and pushed you back behind him.

“You can’t have her,” he growled menacingly.

“You won’t have much of a say when you’re dead, now, will you, handmaiden?”

Dean glared and stepped forward, but Sam stopped him with a raised hand. “So why did you go from hobbling to murder?”

Gerry refocused his attention, flashing back to his plan. “Greyfox and Thargrim became part of the honor guard. They got close to the queen, but they did it by breaking the rules – paying off other players with real money, rather than Moondoor currency. They were cheating.”

“Oh, and using magic isn't?” Dean snapped.

“Magic is a part of Moondoor.”

Charlie stepped forward, suddenly angry. You tried to grab her arm, but she evaded you. “What is your problem? Why would you hurt people? This is just a game.”

“There is no game!” Gerry shouted. “There is only Moondoor! I came here to be different, to get away from my crappy life, to be a hero, and guess what.”

“What?” Dean asked sarcastically. “You were a loser in the real world, and you're a loser here? Shocker.”

Gerry glowered at him. “Would a loser track down a real book of spells and compel a fairy to do his bidding?”

“It depends,” Sam muttered. “How'd you get it?”

“eBay.”

Dean rolled his eyes and leaned down so only you could hear him. “You got a gun on you?”

You shook your head slightly. “Nope. This dress wasn’t exactly made for packing.”

Dean sent a silent head shake to Sam who nodded and cleared his throat. “Look. It doesn't have to be like this, Boltar. Just hand over the book of spells. We can work this out.”

“This will all work out…” Gerry muttered as he bent down to pick up a fake sword. “After I remove you from the playing field and wipe Lady Y/N and the queen’s memories.”

“And, what?” you asked, stalling for time. “You’re going to kill them with that thing?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Gerry said with a smile. “Gilda?”

Gilda sighed and closed her eyes, only for the fake sword in Gerry’s hand to turn very, very real. Sam and Dean immediately began to move, Sam going for Gerry while Dean covered you.

Gerry looked almost bored as he gestured at Sam. “Gilda, the big one.”

In an instant, a suit of armor came alive, grabbing Sam from behind. Charlie took the opportunity to charge at Gerry with a fake sword, but he easily threw her on the bed.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled, picking up a fake sword of his own. “Get Charlie and get out of here!”

He rushed forward, swinging at Gerry, but Gerry’s real sword easily cut Dean’s in half. You and Gilda ran to Charlie while Sam continued to struggle with the suit of armor and Dean did his best to block Gerry’s attacks with a metal shield.

“Gilda!” you cried. “You have to do something. He’s going to kill them!”

“We can't stop him. The book – you must destroy it.”

You looked back to where Dean and Gerry were still fighting. A book had fallen to the floor by their feet. “Charlie, the book!”

You both moved in an instant, with Charlie reaching the book first. She lifted it off the ground and held a dagger over it. “Hey, Gerry. I'm the one who saves damsels in distress around here.”

“No!” Gerry yelled. He turned to stop her as she raised the dagger over her head, but you moved to block him, standing right between his sword and Charlie. At the exact second that Charlie’s dagger hit the book, Gerry’s sword pierced your abdomen.

“Y/N! NO!!!!” Dean screamed, running to you as your body buckled, bathed in the bright light from the book. He reached out his arms and caught you, strong and steady, pulling you into him in one fluid motion.

“Dean…” you whispered softly, the pain in your abdomen spreading quickly.

“Just hold on, Y/N,” he pleaded. “You’re gonna be ok. I got you. Just hold on.”

“No!!” Gerry yelled, blanching when he’d seen what he’d done. “No, Y/N, no…”

In an instant, his blood-stained sword turned back into a fake one, only for a freed Sam to immediately snatch it and use the butt to knock him out. Charlie dropped the book and rushed to your side.

“Y/N! No….”

“Charlie….” you breathed out, unable to say much more. Dean’s arms tightened around you. You were fading fast.

Tears started to gather in Charlie’s eyes as Sam dropped to his knees by her side. “Y/N, I’m so sorry I lied to you about who I was. You’re my best friend, I should’ve told you the truth, I should’ve…”

“Shhh...It’s okay. I don’t blame you, Charlie. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she cried as you turned your eyes to meet Dean’s.

“Y/N, please, don’t…” he pleaded, his voice coming out gruff and labored with unshed tears.

“It’ll be okay, Dean. I wish we had more time, but it’ll be okay.”

“No!” he yelled. “You can’t die! Not now, not like this.”

“And, die she won’t,” Gilda announced, moving to stand by Charlie. “Allow me.”

Charlie moved aside to let Gilda hover her hands over your wound. As you and Dean watched in awe, your wound healed magically, taking all the pain away in an instant.

“Thank God,” Charlie breathed out while Dean hung his head in obvious relief, his hold on you decreasing slightly but not breaking.

With Dean’s help, you carefully sat up and looked at Gilda. “Thank you,” you stammered, your voice full of sincerity.

Gilda smiled. “You are the one I should be thanking. Thanks to all of you, I'm free of the spell. You saved me. This was the least I could do to return the favor.”

Dean helped you stand up while you returned her smile. “So, what now?” you asked, leaning into Dean as you regained your strength.

“Now, I return home. The Hollow Forest is forever in your debt. I must return to those green hills now. I will take my former master with me. He must face a fairy tribunal for his sins.”

“Wait,” Charlie yelled as she grabbed Gilda and pulled her into a heated kiss. “Thank you.”

Gilda smiled one last time before disappearing in an array of twinkling, shimmering lights. Gerry’s body disappeared right along with her in a puff of smoke.

“Call me... maybe?” Charlie shouted into the air, inducing a laugh out of you, your body shaking softly against Dean’s.

“Come on,” Dean said, taking your hand and gently leading you out of the tent. “Let’s get out of here.”

By the time you made it back to the Moondoor camp, it was nearing midnight, and you were exhausted.

Despite your assurances that you were healed, Dean had insisted on carrying you the last half mile, only letting you walk when you hit the edge of the forest. He accompanied you to the tent Charlie had procured for you, only truly letting his guard down once you were safely inside.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked tentatively.

“I’m fine, Dean, I promise. Gilda healed me completely. I’m as good as new.”

“Okay, but…”

“Dean,” you whispered, stopping him with a feather light touch to his chest that immediately quieted him. “It’s over. I’m okay.”

“Okay…” he breathed back, matching your whispered tone with one of his own.

“So, what happens next?” you asked. “I mean, I’m assuming you two leave again, right?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, stepping closer to you and gently placing his hand on your cheek. “But, I’m sure we’ll be back. I mean, with both you and Charlie here, why would we stay away?”

“Right,” you muttered quietly. You tried to look down, but Dean held your chin firmly.

“Y/N, this is not going to be the last time we see each other. Not even close. Trust me, now that I’ve met you, I have no intention of letting this go.”

You could feel your face brightening. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he echoed with a smile. “But, promise me one thing.”

“Yes?” you asked breathlessly as Dean moved even closer, until his lips were just inches from yours.

“Promise me you won’t go around getting yourself stabbed anymore.”

You started to laugh lightly at his words, but you sobered up when you saw Dean’s intense expression. “I’m serious, Y/N. I know we just met this morning, but I care about you. I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if Gilda hadn’t been there. If you died…”

“Shh…” you murmured, holding one finger up to his lips. “I promise.”

Before Dean could say another word, you leaned up, closing the short gap between the two of you, and claiming his lips in a passionate kiss. He wrapped his arms around you, walking you backwards to the bed before lifting you up slightly so you could wrap your legs around his strong thighs. You fell together onto the bed, a tangle of legs and arms coming together as one for the first of you hoped would be many times to come.

The next morning, you, Sam, and Dean were back in your street clothes, walking through the camp with Charlie, you and Dean hand in hand.

“So what's next for you, Charlie?” Sam asked. “New town? New identity?”

“No way,” Charlie laughed. “I’m staying right here, with Y/N. If the last 24 hours have taught me anything, it's that escaping isn't what it used to be. No more replacement characters for me. I got to face reality from now on. Sadly, reality actually includes monsters, but what are you gonna do?” she added with a smile. “If I can ever be of help to you guys, let me know.”

“Will do,” Dean said. He glanced down at you. “Especially since we’re going to be coming back here pretty often.” You smiled as he turned back to Charlie. “And you, uh... you're good?”

“Apart from the fact that you blocked me from banging a fairy, and I'm about to go lose my crown in battle, thanks to my army being decimated? Yeah. Totally good.” She turned around, holding her hands up in a Vulcan salute. “Smell you later, bitches.”

You laughed as Charlie walked away and Dean snaked his arm around your waist. “You know, I might have an idea of how to help Charlie keep her crown.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean asked. “And what’s that?”

You pulled away from Dean and extended your hand back to him. “Follow me.”

He followed you with a laugh, Sam close behind, and twenty minutes later, the three of you were standing on the battlefield, dressed in full army garb, ready to help Charlie defend her throne.

Dean, with the long-hair of his wig fluttering in the wind and his face painted red and white, stood in the front, addressing the army with the speech from Braveheart.

“It’s the only one he knows,” Sam muttered, his hair in a ponytail as he stood next to you and Charlie.

“And dying in your beds many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days, from this day to that, for one chance. Just one chance to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they will never take…”

“Hold!” yelled a squire, interrupting Dean’s speech. A frisbee sailed onto the field, followed by a man running after it.

“Uh, my bad,” the man yelled before running away.

Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to the squire, getting the signal to continue. He raised his wooden sword and shook it in the sky. “...our freedom!”

“Our freedom!” you echoed, holding your sword up in solidarity as you took off running at Sam and Dean’s sides. You knew that, while this battle might be fake, it wasn’t going to be the last you ran into at Dean’s side.

You couldn’t wait.

Forevers- @hamartiamacguffin @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @katymacsupernatural @impandagrl @cyrilconnelly @impala-dreamer @castielhasthetardis @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @shotgunintheimpala @be-amaziing @jalove-wecallhimdean @there-must-be-a-lock @mysterious-398 @hannahindie @emoryhemsworth @ohmychuckitssamanddean @wi-deangirl77 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @ericaprice2008 @just-another-winchester

Dean Tags- @akshi8278

#jess hits 700 #fave spn episode challenge #dean x reader #supernatural rewrite #larp and the real girl

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timeagainreviews · 4 years

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My Series 10 Rewatch: The Return of Doctor Mysterio

Ah, another Christmas episode. How many is that now? Two in a row? If you’ll recall from last time, I remarked that the only thing I liked about Christmas episodes was that it was more Doctor Who. While I will admit to a degree of hyperbole, it wasn’t far from the truth. Which is why "The Return of Doctor Mysterio," is such an interesting follow-up, as I have a "second" reason to like Christmas episodes. Only in a Christmas episode can Doctor Who get truly stupid. I’m not saying I hated it, I’m not saying I liked it, but I think I loved it.

"The Return of Doctor Mysterio," is very much a stupid episode. But in the same way, a child can believe in a jolly fat man delivering presents every year, Steven Moffat asks us to believe in a Doctor Who where Superman could exist. It doesn’t fit the tone of the show, and it’s not even particularly topical. The idea of superheroes in the media is so cliched, that it’s cliched to even point that out. It felt a little dated even at the time it was made. So how has it given me a newfound love for Christmas episodes? Because it plays its hand at the right moment. Doctor Mysterio could only ever work on Christmas.

We open on the Doctor swinging outside a young boy’s bedroom window on Christmas Eve. The Doctor has been up on the roof of the New York skyscraper this boy calls home. After climbing into the window the Doctor introduces himself to the boy whose name is Grant. He explains that he was up on the roof building a machine to fix space-time distortions created by his own meddling. Think back to stuff like the weeping angels turning a hotel into their own food pantry of Rory-O’s. It’s a classic Doctor Who machine made out of various bits, making very little logical sense. It doesn’t matter though because the Doctor is in possession of a McGuffin named the Hazandra, a gemstone also known as "the ghost of love and wishes." Basically, it’s Christmas magic a convenient polyhedron. With it, his machine should stabilise the distortions.

Young Grant and the Doctor’s interactions in this scene are a great example of Capaldi’s charm as the Doctor. I love the Doctor not knowing Clark Kent and Superman being the same person is common knowledge. It scans with his not knowing there was a film called "Alien." The Doctor doesn’t need to know everything all the time, Chibnall. I find everything about this scene completely believable in its context. There’s a brilliant exchange where the Doctor produces a glass of water from his coat for Grant’s cough. After being handed the Hazandra by a man going by "Doctor," he assumes the Hazandra is medicine for his cough and gulps it down. I find it a little hard to believe that a geek like Grant didn’t at least question if it was a D12 first. He seems like the kind of kid who has done some tabletop gaming. Having taken a heroic dose of Christmas magic, Grant starts tripping out like he can fly and shit, which he does, because wishes. Realising the only thing to do is wait for the gem to pass through his digestive tract, the Doctor bides his time. I like to think that somewhere for about a week, the Doctor was scanning the plumbing of that building with his sonic screwdriver. "Still nothing."

With Grant’s body refusing to give up the ghost, his superpowers grew more powerful. This, of course, brings us to present day where Grant is now mild-mannered manny and Super Saiyan "Goku," noted by the G on his chest. No, wait, wrong franchise, it's the Ghost, not Goku. Not since "The Mind Robber," has Doctor Who taken on the concept of superheroes quite so directly. But, unlike Karkus, the Ghost is not meant to be a man from a comic book. Though everything about him is directly from a comic book. The Ghost’s powers are a little boy’s wishes given form. I’ll admit that while wearing my Doctor Who cosplay, the coat does tend to blow in the wind like a superhero cape. While some will even agree that the Doctor is a sort of superhero, even the show recognises its own limitations in this department. Seeing a caped vigilante standing next to the Doctor is weird. It’s wisest to treat this as an anomaly.

Moffat is in no way shy about playing into some of the biggest comic tropes. When we meet Lucy Fletcher, a reporter for the Daily Chronicle, she’s an obvious homage to Lois Lane. So it’s easy to assume that the people she’s investigating, a corporation known as Harmony Shoal, are some sort of villain. It’s also a reminder of the influence of comic books on classic characters like Sarah Jane Smith or Donna Noble. Also in attendance is Nardole, seemingly reunited with his body. After some pointed questions about missing executives from Ms Fletcher, the press conference ends with Lucy unconvinced by their answers. She decides it’s best to stay behind and investigate. As do Nardole and the Doctor.

It’s a testament to how little I remembered within the year between these two Christmas specials, as I didn’t even remember that the Shoal of Winter Harmony were a Doctor Who baddie. Hell, I didn’t even remember it years later when I watched "The Husbands of River Song. If you’ll recall, I went on to complain that they were underdeveloped. Well, I guess I got my wish because here they are again. This time around we learn that the Shoal are a group of brains that look for viable hosts to live within. They open up the heads of humans and replace their brains. I’m beginning to see why I forgot these were the same villains. One is a bunch of brains in a jar, à la "The Keys of Marinus," while the other is a group of people able to open their seemingly hollow heads. Like, do the brains open up when they open their heads later? Why do they open at a diagonal layer when the brains clearly have a vertical hemisphere? Their physiology is a bit perplexing, even by Doctor Who standards.

While discovering the Shoal’s secret, Lucy meets the Doctor and Nardole, who are also spying. After witnessing one executive transplant an alien brain into the body of another executive, the three of them are captured and held at gunpoint. It's at this moment when we first see Grant as the Ghost, as he saves the trio using super-heroics. After whisking Lucy back to her apartment in a classic "superhero saves the girl," manner, we learn that Grant is actually Lucy's manny for her baby. This explains why he was watching out for her, and how he found her home so easily. The Doctor, having used the TARDIS to track the Hazandra, is already at Lucy's apartment waiting for Grant to chastise him for using his powers. Lucy believes the Doctor is there for her causing both her and Grant to lie to one another about how they may or may not know the Doctor.

Now, I would like a minute to talk about the costume. Basically, it's not very good. In fact, it's kind of bad. I don't mean to badmouth somebody's hard work, because it's not the craftsmanship I'm criticising. It's barely even the design. It's the reason for the design. You see, the Ghost has an awful mask. It covers about 75 percent of his face and is basically like no hero mask we've ever seen. The reason for this is that despite all of its whimsy and Christmas magic, the idea that a pair of glasses is all the secret identity a hero needs is too stupid even for Doctor Who. Hell, it's too stupid for Superman. Lois Lane is a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, and she's thwarted by a pair of specs? Seeing them make up for it by covering Grant's face in an awkward plastic mask just highlights how poorly Doctor Who and capes mesh. Except in the case of Jon Pertwee.

Lucy and Grant have that classic Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Superman, love triangle going on. Or Jerrica, Diego, and Jem if you're not a comic book nerd. It's the whole "Does she love me, or does she love him?" trope. All that's left is for Grant to do one of those two dates at the same dance scenes and we'll be set. Oh, they do that later on in the episode? Oh. But that's getting ahead of ourselves. Let's talk about that interrogation scene.

In 2012, "Zero Dark Thirty," came under fire for its apparent glorification of torture during interrogation. Which seems a weird takeaway if you've actually seen the film. However, the point was made- torture is inhumane. Which is why I must warn those of you with a gentle constitution that the torture scene of Mr Huffle is brutal. Every time Lucy adds pressure to this poor man's head, he cries out in agony, and she knows it will work. The Doctor is unable to stand the idea that another need suffer that he might keep his secrets, so he spills the beans. Of course, I'm kidding, the scene is absolutely ridiculous, but it's also kind of cute. It's yet another of those moments only afforded by Christmas magic because anywhere else it would be stupid. I just want to know where Moffat hides the giant bollocks required not to edit that bit out.

Now, remember how I said in my review for "The Husbands of River Song," that the baddies never really had much development? As it turns out, they're not all that deep. The main goal of the Shoal (Judoon on the moon), is to fortify their headquarters to survive a massive blast. Their reasoning is that when their ship impacts with the planet, their building will remain standing among the rubble of New York, acting as a beacon to the world's leaders who will flock to them. This way, the Shoal can take over the bodies of leaders. It's a dumb comic book idea in a dumb comic book episode. If their building attracted anything other than droves of survivors, it would most likely attract the attention of investigators. "Oh hey, maybe we should investigate the people who battened down the hatches immediately before the blast." Nothing fishy there. A foolproof plan. Because comic books, and Christmas.

Please don't mistake my tone for derision. I genuinely think Moffat made the right decision in keeping the plot a bit campy. It absolutely fits with the theme of the episode. This doesn't mean that the premise doesn't wear thin. It does so with so much haste that the promotional photos began to feel hackneyed. I've said in the past that Doctor Who is very much like a comic book, but even then it's a completely different genre than superheroes. The idea of the Doctor and the Ghost teaming up seems more appropriate for the comic pages of Doctor Who Magazine. And even then it would feel silly. You would see it come up on lists titled "Top Ten Weirdest Moments in the Doctor Who Extended Universe." It's up there with "Combo Man" or "NFL Superpro," in that it's a pale imitation that does nothing to add to the genre. The fact that they made a Ghost spin-off comic book is mind-boggling.

The Ghost fits very uncomfortably into the Doctor Who universe. Hell, he fits uncomfortably into New York. I did the math, he was old enough to stop 9-11. Or at least save some people. It's one of those "This is why the Doctor doesn't travel to the holocaust," things. It's just easier to ignore a real world tragedy. But even within the Doctor Who version of New York, the episode raises a few unanswered questions. Ever since Amy and Rory "died," the fandom has questioned why the Doctor didn't simply travel back in time to save them. Moffat's response was that the events of "The Angels Take Manhattan," made New York too chaotic a place to land. So the fans said, "What about taking a taxi into New York after landing safely outside?" To which Moffat said "Ah, but the tombstone! It's a fixed point in time." Which is a good point. There's no way you could possibly fake a tombstone. Those things are counterfeit-proof.

The point I'm getting at is that New York is all sorts of messed up by the Doctor. As I stated earlier, it's the whole reason he was there in the first place. The problem I'm having is that if the Doctor brought the Hazandra to New York to repair the rift, and Grant swallowed it like medicine, what the hell repaired the rift? How is the Doctor able to visit Lucy's house? How is the Doctor able to travel to and from the Shoal's ship orbiting the earth? If the Doctor can pilot the TARDIS in and out of New York City, what exactly needed fixing? And if nothing needed fixing, why then are Amy and Rory dead? And it wouldn't be a big deal if Moffat hadn't literally made it a plot point in the first place! That's two episodes in a row now where Steven Moffat introduces a concept only to completely go against it later on. Maybe he knew he was on his way out and he started phoning it in because I know Moffat is a better writer than this.

Ok, so where are we in the story? It doesn't really matter. Basically the Ghost and Lucy have dinner on top of Lucy's building. But it's when talking to the Ghost that Lucy realises she loves Grant. At no point does she not realise she's an idiot unable to see through a very dumb disguise. The Doctor and Nardole have jumpstarted the Shoal's plans by crashing the ship themselves. This forces the Shoal to act ahead of schedule. Also, for some reason, the Shoal seems to think they would be able to take over the Ghost's body. I guess superhero skin is one of those things famously known for being fragile and easily broken. Surely there's no flaw in this plan whatsoever. Grant uses this as an opportunity to switch out of his cape in back into manny mode. Acting as the hero, he swoops in and saves the day. Not only does he thwart the Shoal, but he also one-handedly catches their ship before it can make impact, thus saving all of New York.

The Doctor alerts UNIT to the Shoal's activities and before they can make their break are apprehended. All except for a single Shoal who has taken over the brain of a random UNIT soldier. It's one of those comic book cliffhangers that will fall apart if you start to think about it. I'm going to say it's absolutely acceptable in these circumstances, but I am absolutely still going to pick it apart. Like didn't the Shoal say earlier that they require a suitable host? What constitutes a suitable host? Did they mean suitable as in "a person in power," or was it a blood type thing? Do some people's bodies reject their new brain? Furthermore, didn't the Shoal keep creepy surgeons in closets for this kind of operation? How then is one of them able to do complex surgery in the span of moments? As I said, it falls apart.

"It falls apart," is the theme to this episode. In fact, the entire plot hangs on the premise of stupid comic book cliches. Nothing about this episode works as an episode of Doctor Who. But, as I said, it does work as a Christmas episode. In that way, it makes me both love, and continue to hate Christmas episodes. In the same manner, I admire its frivolity, I also loathe its crudeness. I'm not exactly running out into the streets like Ebenezer Scrooge asking what day it is, but I'm not saying "Bah! Humbug," either. Let's just say, I'm glad the next episode in this watchthrough isn't a Christmas story. The only thing worse than watching two Christmas stories in a row is watching them while in lockdown in July and August. There is neither anything holly nor jolly about this season.

The important takeaway is that I actually found myself having more fun this time around. Perhaps it was the fact that I now knew what to expect. The idea of a Doctor Who superhero episode can't be as bad as it already was. I've found this to be a common theme in revisiting a lot of Doctor Who. Without your initial expectations in the way, fun can sometimes peak its head in and say hello. Which is why I said I loved this episode. It wasn't good, but it was fun. I even got to see this play out in real-time. My boyfriend who had either never seen the episode, or forgotten it completely, spent most of his time hung up on how stupid the premise was. While I was actually able to spend more time appreciating the performances. The superhero tropes seemed less tired, and more like a necessary function of the narrative. Sometimes there is virtue in knowing something is going to be shit.

Hey friends! Thanks for reading this far. I wanted to pop in and apologise for how long this took to post. Last week was my birthday so I took the time off. Also, for some reason I was really dragging my feet with this one. Go figure. Next time, we say hello to Bill! See you soon!

#doctor who #the return of doctor mysterio #steven moffat #twelfth doctor #peter capaldi #nardole #matt lucas #christmas #series 10 #the ghost #bbc #tardis #rewatch #watchthrough #harmony shoal #Time and Time Again

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