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chocolatepot · 23 days

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Hi! Can you elaborate on "Fuck GRRM's committment to 'historical realism' without knowing anything about medieval social history"? I would love to know about what GRRM gets wrong about medieval gender roles, specifically.

So Cersei learns at an early age that she has no agency, her only value is producing heirs and is barred from traditional routes of power so she has to use underhanded methods such as influencing men with sex or using underhanded magical means. I would love an explanation on why this doesn't reflect medieval queen consorts and noble women irl.

Sure! The basic summary is: GRRM "knows" the things that everyone "knows" about the middle ages, which are broad stereotypes often reflective of a) primary sources that deserve a critical reading rather than being taken at face value and b) the judgements of later periods making themselves look better at the medieval period's expense.

As Shiloh Carroll argues, building on the work of Helen Young, “readers are caught in a ‘feedback loop’ in which Martin’s work helps to create a neomedieval idea of the Middle Ages, which then becomes their idea of what the Middle Ages ‘really’ looked like, which is then used to defend Martin’s work as ‘realistic’ because it matches their idea of the real Middle Ages.”

Since you're mainly interested in Cersei here, I'd strongly recommend a book: Queenship and the Women of Westeros: Female Agency and Advice in Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire, edited by Zita Eva Rohr and Lisa Benz. It's an excellent read and speaks to exactly what you're asking about. The tone of the book is very positive and non-judgemental when it comes to GRRM and his depictions of women on the whole, but I think some of this is rhetorical positioning to not seem like "mean angry academics jumping on fiction for not being accurate," as the actual content turns the reader to thinking about how much agency and power medieval queens had in different European societies and how little of that worked its way into GRRM's worldbuilding.

It's true that women typically didn't inherit titles and thrones in their own right, and that they were usually given in marriage for political/dynastic reasons. However, they weren't seen as brood mares whose only duty was to pop out sons: both queens and noblewomen had roles to play as household managers, counselors, and lieutenants, actively participating in the ruling of their domains and in local and international diplomacy (women in political alliances were not just pawns sent to a powerful man's bed, but were to act as ambassadors for their families and to pass information back and forth), and they had to be raised with an understanding of this so that they could learn to do it. Motherhood was very important, don't get me wrong, but it's a mistake to assume as pop culture does that a wife's foremost duty being to provide heirs for her family meant that she was ONLY seen as a mother/potential mother.

Catelyn is a great example of what was expected of women in these positions. But in the books, Catelyn is basically the only woman who inhabits this role, and the impression given is that she's exceptional, that she's just in charge of the household because she's so great at it that Ned allows her to be his partner, and that he listens to her advice because she happens to be a wise person in his orbit - and also that Ned is exceptional for giving so much power to a woman, because in the world of ASOIAF, it takes an especially good man to do this. In GRRM's view of the medieval world, realpolitik and the accumulation of power are the most important things, so men in Westeros are extremely unlikely to give up any authority to their wives, even though this is historically inaccurate.

Cersei, on the other hand, is supposed to be a more realistic depiction of what would happen to an ambitious medieval woman. There's a chapter titled "Queen of Sad Mischance: Medievalism, “Realism,” and the Case of Cersei Lannister" in the book I've rec'd, and it deals with why this is problematic extremely well. (This is the source of the quote at the top of this post.) In it, Kavita Mudan Finn argues that Cersei embodies pretty much every medieval trope for the illegitimate wielding of power by a woman. She underhandedly gets people killed for opposing her, she seduces men into doing her bidding, she advances her family's interests and her own at the expense of the realm. She's made sympathetic through fannish interpretation and Lena Headey's performance, but in the text she's an evil woman doing evil things. Even when she gets to be regent for her son - a completely legitimate historical position that allowed women to handle the levers of power almost exactly like a king - she continues to do shitty things and not be taken seriously because she's just not good at ruling.

But even before then, from a medieval perspective she had access to completely legitimate power that she didn't use: she'd have had estates giving her a large personal income, religious establishments to patronize (giving her a good reputation as a pious woman and people she'd put in high positions being personally loyal to her), artists and writers to patronize as well, power over her household, men around her listening to her counsel. That she doesn't have that is a reflection of GRRM either deciding these things don't really exist in Westeros in order to make it a worse world than medieval Europe and justify Cersei feeling she had to use underhanded means of power, or not knowing that they were ordinary and unexceptional because he has a good working knowledge of the politics of the Wars of the Roses but little to no knowledge of social history beyond pop culture osmosis, and, imo, little to no interest in actual power dynamics.

There are a lot of books I'd recommend on this subject. There's a series from Palgrave Macmillan called "Queenship and Power" and nearly all the books in it are THE BEST. Theresa Earenfight's Queenship in Medieval Europe is a very readable introduction to the situations of queens in European societies across the continent. She also has a book, Women and Wealth in Late Medieval Europe, that also addresses non-royal women's power. I'm also a huge fan of English Aristocratic Women, 1450-1550: Marriage and Family, Property and Careers, by Barbara Harris, which really emphasizes the "career" aspect of women's lives as administrators and diplomats.

#medieval #asoiaf #queens #queenship #history #middle ages

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spectrum-color · 9 months

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So we all know GRRM, like all authors, took a lot of inspo from real life fairy tales, religion, and mythology. There are a ton of parallels but I picked out a few to put in this poll

Propaganda: Before anyone says anything, I know a lot of these are dark spins on the original. I’m not trying to say Littlefinger is a handsome prince or whatever. Also note that some of this is based on either things that haven’t happened yet but are highly likely to happen in Winds/Dream up to and including being confirmed by GRRM.

Arya and Jaqen as Hades and Persephone-the young maiden of spring is found by the lord of the underworld, who gives her an object (in this case a coin) to trick her into being trapped in the world of the dead. When she leaves home, winter comes, but when she returns, so does spring.

Sansa as Rapunzel-a princess locked in a tower by an evil sorceress (or just queen) who is spirited away by a man who wants to marry her. Strong focus on her hair as a symbol of her identity.

The Brotherhood Without Banners as Robin Hood and his Merry Men-a band of outlaws who defend the common people against corrupt authority figures. This one is really self explanatory.

Cersei as the evil queen and Margaery/Sansa/eventually Dany as Snow White-a vain, cruel women terrified of her beauty fading and being replaced by a younger woman who outshines her, so she tries to destroy her perceived rival, ultimately leading to her own downfall. The girls in Snow Whites slot are the popular choices for the identity of the YMBQ and the one Cersei is currently convinced it is.

Jaime and Brienne as Beauty and the Beast-a double subversion. Jaime is handsome and Brienne is ugly, but when they meet she’s brave and kind while he’s selfish and cruel, so it’s the beast who helps the beauty be better.

Lyanna, Rhaegar, and Robert as Helen of Troy, Paris, and Menelaus-a beautiful woman fiercely desired by two powerful men, she either runs off with or is kidnapped by a prince, leading to her (soon to be) husband retaliating by starting a tragic war.

Stannis and Shireen as Agammemon and Iphegenia-a king and commander sacrifices his daughter to the gods to win a war. Bonus if this ends up causing Stannis’ downfall.

Lady Stoneheart as Demeter-a mother wanders the land bringing destruction and misery as she searches for her daughter(s.) When her daughters return to her, spring comes.

Cersei and Jaimes children as the emperor wearing no clothes-the emperor walks around naked insisting that he’s a wearing magic invisible outfit, but everyone is afraid to tell him the truth until finally a child points out that he’s wearing nothing at all. See: everyone pretending not to notice that Cerseis children are the result of incest with her brother, and Ned finally realizing the truth when his 11 year old daughter points out that Joffrey is nothing like Robert.

Bran as the Fisher King-the Fisher King is a character from Arthurian myth. He is the guardian of the magical holy grail, protecting it so it (and power) does not fall into the hands of the unworthy. Notably, he also has a deliberating injury to his legs or groin (depending on the version.) Of course the endgame Bran of the show is a blatant rip-off of Leto II from Children of Dune, but I think the Fisher King sounds more like GRRM would do.

Dany as Moses-a leader who has prophetic visions, who after performing a miracle, frees her people from slavery and leads them on a harsh journey to a new land. Notably regarded as a critically important figure by a monotheistic religion.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #lyanna stark #rhaegar targaryen #robert baratheon #jaime lannister #cersei lannister #sansa stark #tommen lannister #joffrey lannister #myrcella lannister #arya stark #jaqen h'ghar #danerys targaryen #margaery tyrell #shireen baratheon #catelyn stark #I almost put jon as cinderella #but I feared the flame war it could kick off

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familyparadox · 18 days

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Ruby Sunday is so 8th Doctor companion core it is unbelievable

Messed up Timelines like Sam and Charley? Check!

Changing her past multiple times like Charley? Check!

Orphan with unknown parents and a Sci Fi fan like Izzy? Check!

Weird alternate future version of them hanging around like Fitz? Check!

At least two of them meet in the same place like Fitz? Check!

Have some mysterious connection to a god like entity, like Compassion does? Check!

Blount haired working class woman like Lucie? Check!

Past may or may not have been influenced by the Doctors Biodata like Sam? Check!

Did battle against the forces of Magic like Fitz, Anji and Trix? Check!

Got stuck in one place for a whole lifetime like Fitz and Helen? Check!

Queer like all of eights companions? Check!

Very political minded and an activist like Sam? Check!

Sneak smart and can be manipulative if the need arrises like Compassion and Trix? Check!

Dies like Fitz, Charley, Sam, Lucie and many more? Check!

Becomes a companion after the destruction of Gallifrey and a major changing of cosmic rules like Anji and Trix? Check!

And many many more

#doctor who #dweu #faction paradox #doctor who eu #eighth doctor #edas #fitz kreiner #ruby sunday #anji kapoor #sam jones #dw spoilers

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zepskies · 1 year

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Never Say Goodbye - Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 4,500 Warnings: Language, fluff.

Part 3: Contact

As it turned out, your life started to get better after you missed that shift at the coffee shop.

Oh, you still got fired. But the experience of nearly getting splattered on the pavement by an oncoming truck gave you some unexpected clarity about your life.

Mainly, you needed to stop wasting it. You were tired of jobs that would pay your bills but not bring you closer to your career. And frivolous thoughts of coffee shop boys and…the hope of running into your soulmate.

Maybe one day, you could dare to hope, but from now on, you wouldn’t let it rule your thoughts. You wouldn’t hope too hard either.

It could save you from the disappointment of never hearing anyone’s thoughts but your own.

So you decided to check the University of South Dakota’s career board for jobs, and you discovered an opening in the history department! A research assistant for one of your favorite professors, who was writing their dissertation on the strange, superstitious, and sometimes down-right disgusting social practices of the Ancient Greeks (including bottling up the sweat of their best athletes, because they thought their musky body oils contained magical properties).

Since you were already majoring in history, you were a shoe-in for the job. And working directly with your professor gave you a great resource for future classes.

Four years later, you had earned your bachelor’s degree in History. You even decided to further your education when you were able to get a scholarship for graduate school.

Now you were just one semester away from finishing your master’s. You still worked in the history department, but you had been able to upgrade—to Executive Secretary to the Dean of Ancient Studies.

It sounded fancy, but really, you were a glorified slave. Or at least, your boss seemed to think so.

“I need you to cancel my meeting at two,” said Dr. Birch. She breezed into your tiny office without knocking, startling you from where you were hunched over your laptop.

“Good morning!” came your reflexive greeting, though it was a bit too loud and sharp. You internally winced at yourself and relaxed your posture, like a bird unruffling its feathers. “Cancel your meeting with Dr. Wells?”

Dr. Wells was a nice man, and an important one. He was the Head Dean of the entire History department. Technically, he was above Dr. Birch. It wasn’t a good look to blow him off, but you weren’t about to say so.

“Yes, I have an important lunch, and I already know it’s going to go overtime. Gary will understand,” she replied. She was looking at her phone rather than at you. For all she cared, you were just a calendar with hands.

Dr. Helen Birch was a brilliant woman. She’d published no less than five books, had won awards for her peer-reviewed articles, and she had been your academic advisor all through graduate school.

She could also rival Meryl Streep for “bitchy-ass boss” in The Devil Wears Prada.

“I also need you to grade the final exams for one of my classes,” she said. “Greek Studies this time.”

You held back a sigh. Again? I’ll never finish my own finals at this rate.

But what you said was, “Sure, I can do that. And I’ll email Dr. Wells to reschedule.”

“Yes, make sure it’s not on Thursday,” she said, brushing a finger through her thin blonde hair. “I have to leave early to get my roots touched up before I go away this weekend.”

“That’s fun,” you chatted while you revised Dr. Birch’s calendar on your computer (and sent an apology email to Dr. Wells). “Where to?”

“Oh, I have this tedious conference in Chicago. But then my boyfriend is taking me skiing in Breckenridge.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I simply can’t wait. This semester has been a drain on my psyche, and just terrible for my migraines.”

With the email sent, you took a little breath and gathered some courage as you got up from your desk and gathered a handful of papers you had stapled together. It was a rough draft of your thesis, which was only a bit worse for wear (including a suspect coffee stain that you didn’t remember accidentally putting there).

“Actually, I was going to ask you if you got my email about my thesis. I just wanted to go over some of the feedback you gave me on the draft,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Dr. Birch raised a brow. “What of it?”

“Well.” You showed her the front page, which was covered in red ink. “Mainly the part where you crossed out the first three pages and commented, ‘Missing the point.’”

She nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid I have nothing to add about that.”

Well, that didn’t exactly help you. The first three pages was your entire introduction to your thesis, “TV & Film: The Modern-Day Mythology of the Masses.”

You must’ve had a pitiful, lost look on your face, because Dr. Birch finally took pity on you. She sighed.

“You are a creative girl. I’ll give you that, but your degree is not in cinematography. You are a historian,” she said. “And while the ‘Well of Souls’ in Raiders of the Lost Ark may be based on a real historical place in Jerusalem, that does not mean Indiana Jones can, or should be described as a ‘religious experience.’”

My ten-year-old self would bed to differ, you wanted to retort, but you kept your mouth shut and lowered your eyes. Dr. Birch nodded to herself and was about to leave your office, until she stopped short and gave you her Amex card.

“Oh. And get me a coffee, would you, dear?”

The moment your day ended and you were able to get into your car, you let out a long sigh of relief. While you waited for your car to warm up, you massaged your hand, aching from grading papers for Dr. Birch’s class.

You rubbed your hands together, this time to warm them as the frigid air draining from the car still bit into your skin. A shudder tingled through your body, and not in a pleasant way. Honest to God, I hate the winter.

On reflex, you toyed with the silver ring on your right hand—your mom’s ring. It usually comforted you, but today, remembering her made your heart heavy. Because today was the anniversary.

You still remembered that snowy day when you were fourteen, could picture it so clearly, like a scene painted on glass.

With one last sigh, you fished out your phone to call your dad. It rang for a few seconds (it always took him an eternity to answer his phone, and it drove you crazy).

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad,” you said.

“Hey. Just got off work?”

“Yeah, I’m headed back to Sioux Falls. Want to meet at home and go together, or do you just want to meet me at the cemetery?”

The other line was silent for a moment. Longer than you would’ve liked.

“You’re coming, right?” you pressed.

“Look, I’m gonna have to work late tonight,” Jack said. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Really?” Your voice was terse. “It’s one day a year, Dad. You can’t even manage that?”

“I told you I’m working a case.” He sounded annoyed. You didn’t care.

You were pissed.

“Whatever,” you dismissed. But then, you realized you weren’t willing to let it go just yet. “You know, I just find it interesting. On her birthday, Christmas, today, somehow you just can’t be bothered to visit your wife.”

“Hey, drop it, all right?” your dad snapped back.

“Sure. It’s none of my business, I guess.”

“I don’t need your sarcasm either.”

You silently fumed, but you weren’t willing to hang up the phone first. You didn’t want to look petty, and apparently, neither did he. You both could be stubborn like that, sitting in a tense stretch of silence instead of just…

Instead of just, I don’t know what, you could admit, if only to yourself. Eventually, his voice reached your ears.

“I’ll go when I can,” he said.

“Fine.”

And you really did hang up this time.

What should’ve been an hour drive back into your hometown took almost two with the traffic.

Oh yeah, you still lived at home with your dad. It wasn’t ideal, especially with a long-ass commute every day. But unfortunately, being a full-time student with a part-time job didn’t give you the budget to have your own life.

At least you had your car—a dark blue Camaro your uncle had restored and gifted you for your twenty-first birthday. You didn’t talk to your Uncle Bobby as much as you would like. Between work and school and taking care of the house for you and your dad, you didn’t have much free time on your hands. You did see Bobby around town sometimes, and occasionally shared a beer with him when your demanding schedule allowed.

Your dad had never liked it, you hanging around your uncle. So you didn’t tell him.

That seemed to work out better for both of you.

In fact…

You reached for your phone again and found your uncle’s number.

“Stop badgering me, Rufus. I’m busy.”

Your lips curved into a grin. “Uncle Bobby?”

“Oh. Hi, darlin’. Sorry, thought you were some riff raff that keeps spammin’ me.”

“What did Rufus do now?” you asked.

“He knows,” Bobby said. The surly edge to his voice made you smile in amusement.

“What’re you doing later? Up for a beer?”

“Usually I’d take you up on that, but I’ve got some people coming in pretty soon.”

You scoffed. “You have people? What people?”

“You’re not the only number in my cell, you know,” he said dryly.

“What, you mean Rufus?” you teased.

“All right, now you’re just runnin’ up my minutes,” he said. “If you really want that beer, you’re welcome to swing by, if you want. I’ve got a stocked fridge full of cold ones.”

You laughed, then you considered his offer. Did you really want to go home and deal with your dad (whenever he bothered to come home)?

“Well, I’m going to the cemetery first, but I could maybe swing by after,” you replied.

“Right, that’s today, ain’t it?” Bobby said. “Give your mom my respects.”

A more genuine smile grew on your lips. “Thanks. Will do.”

You hung up with him just as you got to the cemetery. It was hard not to feel melancholy here, especially in the winter. All the graves were lightly dusted with snow, and it felt like the world came to a quiet stillness here.

You bundled up with your scarf and gloves as you braced yourself for the cold, stepping out of the car. On your way in, you heard the rumble of a car going by. It was loud enough to make you turn your head and see a flash of black speeding away.

You shook your head. People drive like maniacs nowadays.

You were about to continue on your way towards your mom’s grave, when you finally heard it.

Say goodbyeee…never say goodbye-y-aaayy. Holdin’ on we gotta try, holdin’ on to never sayyy goodbyeee.~

Someone was warbling a Bon Jovi song in your mind, and it certainly wasn’t you.

But you did come to a dead stop in your path. Your eyes widened as shock claimed your heart and your brain. Soon enough though, your heart warmed as you became aware of something new. It was like a low hum at first, reverberating inside your chest.

You and me and my old friends, hopin’ it would neeever end. Say goodbye—

The singing continued, but all you could focus on was the thrumming in your skull, the thread of connection you could sense and feel inexplicably. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt warmth trickling down your cold cheeks. Sniffling, you wiped your tears with the back of your hand and smiled tremulously.

You were finally feeling your soulmate.

Which meant, he was close by…and with that realization came an important question:

What the hell do I do now?

They were in South Dakota again.

Dean knew coming back here was…potentially dangerous. He hadn’t heard his soulmate’s thoughts in four years, since the last time he was in this state.

Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to come here. After the last hunt though, he could use some R&R at Bobby’s for a couple of days.

This time Dean had his brother with him, albeit the circumstances weren’t…great. Their dad was missing, and Sam had lost his girlfriend in the process of trying to find him.

Sometimes, Dean really regretted going to find his brother at Stanford. Part of him thought, if he hadn’t hooked Sam into coming with him to try and find John, maybe Jessica Moore would still be alive.

A more selfish part of him (one he wouldn’t name) was glad to have Sam with him. Dean was actually having fun hunting with him. And maybe, Dean was having to get to know him again too.

“You think Bobby will have any intel on Dad?” Sam asked from the passenger seat of the Impala. They were about five minutes away from Singer Salvage, the old man’s tow business (and his house).

“Doubt it,” Dean replied, changing the radio station once Bon Jovi turned to REO Speedwagon. He could get down with some pop rock from Jovi, but REO was pushing it.

“Then why are we here?” Sam turned to him with a frown. “We just ganked a poltergeist in our old house and…we saw Mom. You think we should be wasting time right now?”

Dean’s lips pursed. Leaving their old house behind in Lawrence, Kansas was exactly why he needed a minute before jumping into the next case. As much as he wanted to find John, Dean just…he needed a minute to breathe.

Revisiting those old (painful) memories wasn’t easy for him. He wasn’t sure that Sam completely got that.

“Bobby’s got a stack of lore books to Kingdom Come. Who knows, he might have a way to help us find Dad,” he said.

Sam shot him an unimpressed look. “And if he doesn’t?”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He got why Sam was so fired up. Really. The fact that the kid was having weird…premonition dreams about the near future was concerning. And he wanted to find the thing that killed Jess, that killed their mom, but this was clearly going to be a marathon. Not a sprint.

“In the meantime, we crack open a couple beers,” Dean said, “get one or two of free nights on actual beds, and then we’re on our way to the next gig. How’s that sound?”

Sam let out a sigh through his nose and faced the road ahead. They both knew he wasn’t happy. Dean couldn’t exactly blame him.

When they finally got to Bobby’s, the old man greeted them with a casual wave, beckoning them inside. He offered them the contents of his fridge—a few beers and a frozen lasagna defrosting in the fridge. Dean scoped it out while Sam dropped off his bag in the upstairs guest room.

“That for us?” Dean pointed to the lasagna with a grin. “Didn’t know we merited the red-carpet treatment.”

“’Cause it’s not just for you,” Bobby said dryly, then he hesitated. “...My niece might be swingin’ by later.”

Dean raised his brows in curiosity. “Didn’t know you had a niece.”

Or any family, for that matter. He knew the old man had a wife, once upon a time, but he assumed she’d passed away. No kids. Bobby had never talked about having an extended family. He didn’t have pictures on the walls, and the shelves only had books and locked boxes.

Bobby took a long sip of his beer after opening a bottle each for himself and Dean. He had one ready on the counter for Sam, who came into the kitchen looking tired. The kid hadn’t been sleeping well for the past few weeks, to say the least. Dean handed him the beer.

“I don’t see her much,” Bobby conceded.

“Why’s that?” Dean asked.

It took a moment for the other man to answer. Eventually, he was honest. “Well, she's grown. Going to school, got a job. But you could say I had a fallin’ out with her dad, a while back.”

“You have a brother?” Sam said.

“Brother-in-law,” Bobby corrected. He didn’t say anything more about it though. Sam and Dean shared a look that said they agreed: There’s something off there, but I’m not gonna pry.

“You still see her though?” Dean asked.

“Every now and then,” Bobby said, sipping at his beer again. “It’s a small town.”

That kind of pissed Dean off. Bobby was a good guy. He’d watched Sam and Dean a lot when they were kids, their dad on a hunt. He’d made sure they had decent food to eat, good movies to watch, and even played catch with Dean a time or two.

So what kind of assholes did Bobby have for family, that they couldn’t be bothered to check in on the old man every now and then? They must’ve been off living their lives, in their own little world. Must be nice.

Dean brought the bottle of Heineken to his lips, only to realize it was empty. Couldn’t have that, could we?

He went to the fridge and opened the cap, only to jump as the beer fizzed and leaked over his hands.

Damn it!

Bobby sighed. “And I just mopped the damn floor.”

“All right, Martha Stewart. Keep your slippers on,” Dean teased. “Sam, get me a paper towel.”

Bobby tried to get by him to get the mop, but beer was still dripping down Dean’s arm.

“Would you move to the sink, already?”

Sam finally cracked a small grin as Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. Jesus. You’d think Miss America was comin’ into town.”

Damn it.

You heard him again. And this time, you could hear his voice, so you knew the thought belonged to a him. The voice was pleasantly deep, and annoyed. You actually felt his irritation and were able to recognize that the emotion didn’t belong to you.

Excitement bubbled in your throat, almost making it hard to breathe as you drove your car down the road. You had been too worked up to go see your mom, and technically you were supposed to head to your Uncle Bobby’s house, but this was too important.

You needed to figure out how to talk to him—your soulmate.

So you pulled over on the side of the road, and even turned the radio off. Okay, now what?

You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. They taught about this subject in school, sure, but that had been years ago! You’d spent the past six years filling your head with college and work and learning how to be an adult.

Okay, just breathe. You calmed down a bit with some deep breaths, and you closed your eyes. When you first heard your soulmate’s singing in your head, you remembered feeling warmth spread through your body, emanating from your chest. Then in your mind, you’d noticed a…a thread, of what could only be described as energy.

You felt it now. You could almost visualize it with your eyes closed. In your imagination, it was bright and beckoning. You focused on it, and it grew brighter, thrumming and soft.

You thought of what you wanted to say, and you tried it—sending your thoughts and your will through the connection.

Having a rough day?

Dean was still wiping beer off the floor in Bobby’s kitchen when he heard your voice ring through his mind.

Having a rough day?

His entire body tensed, and he paused with a ball of wet paper towel in his hand. Sam had taken the mop from Bobby and was about to finish off the floor, until he noticed Dean blanking.

“Dean?” he asked.

It shook Dean out of his shock, enough for him to look up at his brother. “Hmm?”

“What’s up? You were staring off into space.”

Dean feigned innocence. “Nothing.”

Sam’s brow rose, but he didn’t press the issue and went back to mopping. Dean took the opportunity to toss the wet paper towel in the garbage.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower,” he said, and made his swift exit to the bathroom upstairs, so quickly that he didn’t see Bobby watching Dean curiously from the living room.

“Don’t use up all the hot water!” Sam called after him.

Once again, Dean found himself locking the bathroom door and staring at himself in the mirror. His green eyes were conflicted as he tried to calm down. Maybe his heart was starting to beat a tick faster. Maybe a trickle of nervous sweat was making its way down his spine. Maybe he didn’t know what the hell to do.

His dad’s warning was still clear as a bell in his mind.

“Unless you’re prepared to hang up your gun, and stop hunting, don’t open that door.”

Dean knew why John had said it, and even agreed with him…at least, logically he did. His life was complicated, and insane, and bloody. How could he put someone else through what he went through? What he still went through every day? It wasn’t right.

But his chest was aching. He rubbed at it absently.

He could feel your worry again, he realized. You were anxious, probably waiting for him to respond. Dean could feel you. Having a rough day? you’d asked him.

So as usual, he made an impulsive choice.

You could say that, he carefully replied. He remembered the way your voice sounded, smooth and pleasant in his mind, and he couldn’t help smiling a little. But not for long, I’m thinkin’.

Your relief hit him in a slow, but powerful wave. It almost made him feel guilty for taking so long to answer.

Well, it’s not every day you hear someone else in your head. Maybe you’re going crazy.

She was teasing him. You were teasing him.

It brought an incredulous smile to Dean’s face. You’re one to talk. Maybe you’re just talkin’ to yourself right now.

Hmm. I don’t usually warble to Bon Jovi, but maybe you’re right.

A beat of surprise, another to remember what he and Sam had been listening to in the car earlier, and then embarrassment prickled at the back of his neck.

You heard that, huh? he asked wryly.

Maybe, you giggled. It was a cute sound, and it cut through some of his embarrassment. He wasn’t used to being put back a step by women. He was good at reading people’s body language, and usually it didn’t take him more than one look to figure out what a woman thought about him, and what they wanted to do with him.

So the fact that he couldn’t see you was a challenge. With that realization, a slow smile spread across his face. He was game for a challenge.

Well, I’m likin’ your voice so far, he said. Think I could get you to sing for me?

He felt you pause, a flutter of warmth through a tendril of shyness. I’ll leave the performing to you, Romeo.

Come on, it’s only fair.

Who said life is fair?

Dean sobered a bit at that. Ain’t that the truth.

Hmm, so you were having a rough day.

Make it a week, he said.

Yeah, I know the feeling…I wasn’t having a good day today either.

Dean sensed your melancholy and didn’t like the feeling. Well, now you’re talkin’ to me. So it should be smooth sailin’ from now on.

He could feel you brighten at that. It made warmth bloom once again inside his chest, especially because he sensed you were smiling—a bit shy, but genuine.

…What’s your name? he asked.

It took you a beat, but eventually you gave him your name. It wasn’t what he expected, but he liked it. Your name rolled through his thoughts, and he tested on his tongue.

What’s yours? you asked predictably. Somehow, Dean didn’t anticipate the follow-up.

Suddenly he realized exactly what he was doing: he was talking to you. (Something he’d told himself he wasn’t going to do.) Not to mention, he’d been locked in the bathroom for about ten minutes and hadn’t even showered yet. Pretty soon either Sam or Bobby was going to come knocking to see what the hell he was doing, so he might as well shower for real.

He answered you as he turned on the showerhead and started undressing. I’ll make a deal with you…if you can guess what I do for a living, I’ll come by and introduce myself in person.

Dean felt your shock, so he let you think as he stepped into the shower. Eventually you came back, annoyance coloring your emotions and your voice.

That’s stupid.

Dean smiled. Aw, come on. It’ll be fun.

For you!

Don’t you know, sometimes the best things in life come after some delayed gratification.

You paused for a moment, in which Dean didn’t know if you were in shock again, or just pissed. Maybe a combination of both.

Great, I got a comedian, you deadpanned. …You’re not a comedian, are you?

Sweetheart, I’m hilarious, Dean replied. But no. Good guess, though.

He sensed the equivalent of you rolling your eyes.

Just then, Sam knocked on the bathroom door.

“Hey, you better not use up all the hot water!”

“Twenty minutes of peace, Sammy. That’s all I ask,” Dean shot back. Sam made a sound of annoyance, but he went away, leaving Dean almost alone with his thoughts.

Look, I gotta go, he said regretfully. But I expect you to have some guesses cooked up by the time I get back from work.

You were still annoyed, but you begrudgingly agreed to his terms.

Fine. Just…don’t wander too far off. I can’t win the game if I can’t hear you.

Dean sensed your underlying worry, and your fear. You were afraid he was going to leave.

His heart softened. As a result, he ended up promising things he didn’t know if he meant.

Don’t worry. I’m not leaving town until you win, he said.

He felt your warm smile, along with your excitement.

Goodnight, sweetheart. We’ll talk soon.

Okay…goodnight.

He hung onto the feeling of your presence for a few seconds longer, before he let go of the connection. For now.

Dean caught himself smiling, but it quickly turned to a frown.

“Nobody should be waiting on men like us to come home bloody.”

When he once again remembered his dad’s warnings, that new warmth in his heart chilled, and it sunk like a stone. He leaned against the cool bathroom wall and pressed his forehead against the tile, while lukewarm water beat the side of his face and body.

Shit.

AN: Oh, Dean. What're we gonna do with you? lol

I hope you enjoyed Part 3! I promise they'll finally meet soon lol. What did you think of their first conversation?

To keep reading: Part 4

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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thecrazyone1990 · 3 months

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Closed RP w/@dreamsjpeg

Sister Helen, a nun who had living in a monastery for years since she was a child has been dedicated to her religion. Never steering off the path she had been put on and always doing her duties. Even after your muse, took over the land, she remained defiant. Refusing to give in, while most of her fellow sisters had fallen to the temptation.

But she won't. Even as your muse entered her temple, she remained defiant. "I don't know why you have come, foul monster. But if you have come to repent for your sins, I will be here to pray for you then."

Calypso was a little wraith, she had stumbled upon the place by mere incident. She looked at the woman curiously before a mischievous smile spread across her face. She slowly began to walk around, “If you say so madam” She looked observed something knocking down little item onto the floor that she thought might be precious just to arouse the woman’s fury.

Sister Helen saw what she's doing and begins using her magic to help catch the item before setting it somewhere safe. "That was a mistake. Now, repent monster or else."

She kept het guard up. Wanting to be careful and make sure the other will not try harming her or the temple itself.

@dreamsjpeg

#dreamsjpeg #closed #closed rp #close #close rp

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cursedbyastro · 10 months

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BEAUTY ASTEROID PERSONA CHARTS PT. 1

looking into these asteroid persona charts can show your type of beauty or how your beauty might look. remember that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. these are only a few asteroids that can symbolize beauty. there are many more. so sit back and enjoy.

PTAH (5011) (conjunct my mars & venus in my natal chart) : ptah is an ancient egyptian deity, the god of craftsmen and architects. ptah is associated with creation and craftsmanship, elements that can relate to the concept of creating beauty or appreciating the beauty in artistry. It gives the vibe that everything it touches is beautiful as well as symbolizing one's innate ability to manifest ideas into reality or the power of intention and thought in shaping one's life.

BELLA (695) : this asteroid shares its name with the Italian word for "beautiful." this asteroid represents the idea of aesthetic beauty and attraction. it relates to physical appearance as well as an appreciation for artistic and visual expressions of beauty

HELENA (101) (conjunct my ascendant & jupiter in my natal chart) : the name "helena" is unmistakably linked to helen of troy from ancient greek mythology. helen is one of the most famous figures associated with beauty, often referred to as "the face that launched a thousand ships." this asteroid symbolizes the supreme/pinnacle of physical beauty and allure, or where one shines most brilliantly in terms of attractiveness. but it also symbolizes beauty with consequences as her beauty is both a blessing and a curse.

HERA (103) (conjunct my saturn in my natal chart) : as the queen of the gods, hera's beauty was one of regality and power. named after the greek goddess of marriage and family, this asteroid is associated with the idealized image of feminine beauty, particularly in a marital context. yet, her beauty is also associated with jealousy and vengeance, especially concerning her husband zeus's infidelities. hera's beauty is multifaceted: it embodies the allure of a queen, but also the pride and wrath of a woman wronged.

APHRODITE (1388) (conjunct my mars) : named after the greek goddess of love and beauty, this asteroid embodies themes of attraction, allure, and physical beauty. originating from the foam of the sea, aphrodite's birth itself is a tale of beauty. As the embodiment of love and desire, her beauty wasn't just physical; it had the power to enthrall gods and mortals alike. It's interesting to note that aphrodite had a magic girdle that could make anyone fall in love with its wearer, further emphasizing her power over desire and beauty.

NYMPHE (875) (conjunct my venus) : this asteroid symbolizes the spirits of nature often depicted as beautiful, ethereal beings in various mythologies. it represents a natural, enchanting kind of beauty and connection to the environment. nymphe is tied to the pristine beauty of nature, natural beauty, and innocence. this asteroid can point to a person's relationship with the natural world and their ability to find beauty in simple things.

PSYCHE (16) (conjunct my venus & mars in my natal chart) : in greek mythology, psyche was a mortal woman of extraordinary beauty. psyche's beauty was so great that it invoked the jealousy of aphrodite herself. this asteroid represents the soul, and its connection to beauty is often interpreted as the beauty that emanates from within, reflecting one's inner world, inner beauty, and spiritual essence

SIRENE (1009) (conjunct my south node & pluto) : this asteroid is named after the sirens of greek mythology, often depicted as seductive creatures known for their enchanting voices. this asteroid relates to the allure, captivating, and magnetic quality of beauty, emphasizing the power of attraction and its potential effects as well as creative/artistic abilities. It also indicated beauty with a dual nature, seductive yet dangerous.

this is just part one, and many more asteroids can symbolize beauty/certain types of beauty so don't be worried if these asteroids don't make any aspects in your natal chart/or have few aspects/significance in your persona charts of these asteroids. beauty is in the eye of the beholder as we know it. again, thank you for readings as always. please leave feedback below as to what you think of this post or just personal experience. all is welcomed. stay cursed, riri ✬

#cursedbyastro #mine #✭ cursed!#astro #astrology #astro observations #asteroids #asteroid

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rosalie-starfall · 10 months

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Nadja of Antipaxos

What We Do In The Shadows - Hybrid Creatures

Nadja: It was, like , a "Crullan." Helen: Cruller. Nadja: "Crewlour." Helen: Cr-uller. Nadja: "Crew-row-row…row-row-ler." Helen: Close enough.

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 8 months

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You watch slasher movies? I haven't done so in years (much to my disappointment), got any recommendations, classics, popular, underrated, anything really?

I knew I hadn't watched them in a long time, but it wasn't till I had to try and write something based on classic slashers, that I realized how long its been since I consumed that kind of content.

My only plan so far is that I need to watch The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Alright, Pandora, it depends on your tastes, and what you look for in a "slasher" ❤️

As you may remember, I fucking love the OG the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and when I got pretty bad last month emotionally I watched it on repeat for two weeks straight. However, if you go in for a regular slasher film you will be disappointed. The first movie is incredible, focusing on amazing shots and atmosphere for nearly the entire first half. It's less of a slasher as we would come to know the genre, and more of an artistic film centered around the horrors of humanity. The series is a wonderful mess of multiple timelines and little continuity, but the sequels better fit the slasher archetype. The best sequel (imo) is the one directly after the first, and it's a black comedy slasher, focusing more on the kills.

Now, slashers ❤️

If you're a nerd and want to experience the slasher history, then before Halloween (which still holds up) there was Black Christmas, and before that the Town that Dreaded Sundown.

The Town that Dreaded Sundown is based off a true serial killer, and unlike TCM which is loosely inspired by Ed Gein, a lot of the kills (except the trombone scene) are based on actual murders, with his mask accurate to the only real world survivor's testimony of her assault. It's very slow pace, and with how desensitized we are as a society you might find it boring, but if you ever get a phonecall from Ghostface, then you have to know the Town that Dreaded Sundown. Fun fact, his mask also inspired Jason's mask from Friday the 13th part 2!

Black Christmas is awesome! I'd recommend it more than Sundown, because of pacing, characters, acting, and overall atmosphere. I love my second wave feminism horror (Stepford Wives (mwah)), and it did a lot better with it's feminist themes than the loose remake from 2019 that tried to be intentionally feminist (ignore the 2006 remake entirely, so bad, so lame, so gross). It did the first person perspective of the killer nearly four years before Halloween's iconic opening. It introduced the idea of the final girl, but she wouldn't become a sexually repressed younger woman until Halloween solidified the trope. It has some great kills that still hold up, and Billy is iconic. I really feel the only reason why he isn't more well known in non-horror spaces is because he doesn't have a mask or outfit that can be replicated and sold in Spirit.

After that we have our most well known slashers, and they're popular for good reason ❤️

A Nightmare on Elm St, Friday the 13th, and Halloween spawned sequels that spiraled off into varying degrees of madness, but still have fun moments.

After the success of Friday the 13th (and the realization of the franchise-ability of slashers) there were a lot of slashers that tried to capture the money magic of the first few success stories. Not all of them were great, but a few notable slashers imo are My Bloody Valentine and the Dentist.

Although Candyman is often lumped in with slashers, like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the first movie is more than a traditional slasher. I recommend the first one as a beautiful love story about the horrors of American racism. It's score is still incredible, the behind the scenes are so interesting, and Tony Todd is absolutely beautiful. Such an amazing actor. (Not so) Fun fact: Tony Todd said in the behind the scenes that there originally was a romantic scene where Helen proclaimed her love for Candyman, but they were forced to cut it, because "they were okay with a tall, black man covered in bees.. but, mm, when it came to a kiss, or something like that, it was a little bit too risque..." ( :/ )

(Please please please watch Candyman)

Then the best, or worst (depending on your views), thing happened to the genre; Scream.

One of the best slashers there is, it isn't the first self referential, meta horror (see Wes Craven's New Nightmare), but it did change the slasher genre for a very long time. It was a revival for the genre, since it was declining in popularity by the early 90s. However, post Scream horror was very meta. See Chucky's personality changing from the occasional funny quip, to Bride of Chucky levels of silly (still love him tho). Of the terrible horror trying to copy Scream, I'd recommend Urban Legend over I Know What You Did Last Summer. It was a shame, just how silly a lot of scary movies got back then, trying to be as smart and self aware as Scream was.

But my favorite (outside of Scream) meta horror slasher film is Behind the Mask: the Rise of Leslie Vernon ❤️ took meta to a whole new level, mockumentary style, a camera crew follows a wannabe slasher killer explaining how to be a slasher icon.

I've watched too many slashers to remember all of them right now, but if you want really meta black comedies, Tucker and Dale vs Evil isn't a slasher but a loving joke on the genre, and the Final Girls made me laugh and cry like a little bitch.

A lot of slashers since the late 90s have drifted closer to the black comedy sub genre. Killers that kill for the sake of killing are often B-rated blood fests, that can be great for mindless fun but not so great for box office gains, especially in our current horror renaissance. Slashers don't fit in to the current horror culture. Serial killers aren't scary for desensitized audiences, and the mindless gore expectations set by older slasher films have created a pretty specific genre setup and pay off (dumb people who only exist to die get brutally murdered). It either has to be B-rated mindless fun (Laid to Rest 1 and 2 had terrible camera work and directing, making even incredible actors like Lena Headey feel lackluster, but the practical effects are so impressive I'd recommend it just for the blood and guts (and bewbs)), or comedic (the Hatchet series has great cameos, genuine laughs, and more impressive practical effects, but with good cinematography and directing (still bewbs)). Slashers that don't lean in to how ridiculous the concept of slashers are and try to take themselves seriously often end up falling short, either creating boring killers with no personality or trying to force a plot into a generic slasher shaped hole.

This does include most remakes of slasher movies, as a lot of slashers were remade in the early 2000's with less interesting characters to be killed off by the slashers. The remake of Candyman was an exception, because even though it wasn't as good as the original, it did go back to it's non slasher roots, learning from the mistake that was the third Candyman.

TLDR:

Non slashers that are considered slashers because of the slasher sequels/iconic murderers:

the Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Candyman

Child's Play

Best Precursor to the genre:

Black Christmas

Popular Classics:

Halloween

Friday the 13th

a Nightmare on Elm St

Pre 90's Slashers that I recommend:

The Dentist

Sleepaway Camp (it's divided on whether it's problematic or interesting representation)

Alice, Sweet Alice

My Bloody Valentine

Post 90's meta commentary/black comedy:

Scream

Behind the Mask: the Rise of Leslie Vernon

Hatchet

The Final Girls

Tucker and Dale vs Evil

There are obviously a lot more, but these are a few off the top of my head ❤️

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oldvintageglamour · 3 months

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Helen Humes, Palace Theatre, mid 1950s 🖤🖤🖤🖤

📸: Ernest Withers

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feysandarcheron · 5 months

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Spoilers for the HOFAS bonus chapter with Bryce Nesta and Azriel and some vague HOFAS spoilers. Basically analyzing the songs’ meanings and going crazy over elriel

Omg the fact that all the elements of the Stone Mother story connect to the plot. (The second and last bullet points in this section have vague HOFAS spoilers)

Grieving mother. They all just got done talking about their mothers. Ember being separated from and grieving for Bryce. The Archeron mother would roll in her grave to see Nesta now and she treated Feyre terribly. Feyre being a perfect mother. The potential for Nesta to be a mother. Azriel’s mother being “anything but terrible”. And of course The Mother is like god in acotar.

Separated and fighting children. *HOFAS spoilers* Helen and Silene separated forever after a battle. Also reminds me of the 7 courts of Prythian that were separated after Theia’s rule.

Separated Man and Woman. He goes up to the sky and she stays on a mountain, which reminds me of The Embrace statue from Crescent City which is Solas and Cthona, the sun and the mountains. Also, she turns to stone on the mountain, which stone reminds me of the prison and of course the significance of the 3 mountains, and what could be beneath them.

Theme of the story is peace over violence. CC is fighting for a better world, and in ACOTAR they are trying to keep the fragile peace in place after the war.

There is also a poem called Stone Mother about indigenous lands stolen by colonialism and climate change. The Asteri are described as colonizers, and *vague spoilers for HOFAS* also Helen and Silene did something to impact the land in ACOTAR and Midgard. Also water is a big point in the Stone Mother, and *more vague spoilers for HOFAS* something happened with the water in Midgard.

So it’s just crazy people think the part about how Woman came to be with Man won’t also have a connection to the plot 😭

Good Man is lonely and wants company. Azriel being alone all this time and emo

Woman wants to be with Man but is married to Bear… an ugly beast if you will !

Bear gets into a fight with Woman and she kills him. Potential for blood duel.

She searches for Man and when she finds him she hides and just watches him, but he sees her foot prints. Reminds me of how shy Elain is and how Azriel is the only one who sees her and vice versa.

Woman reveals herself and Man sees she’s afraid so he speaks to her kindly, which reminds me of ACOWAR elriel

He offers her FOOD !! Mates hello

She accepts the food and each night sleeps closer to him until they eventually get married, which reminds me of how elriel have just been continuously building slowly with each book

PLUS the only other song mentioned is from a CC ballet called the Glass Coffin which is a Brothers Grimm version of Sleeping Beauty (!!!) (The third and last bullet points have vague HOFAS spoilers)

A man uses magic on a woman he wants to marry (a fake bond??), waking her with enchanting music (lightsinger connection !?)

The magic pins her to the bed so she can’t move, and she doesn’t like his magic, so she rejects his proposal by remaining silent. Reminds me of Elain with Lucien.

In anger he puts a spell on her and traps her in a coffin and enchanted her land to make it all barren. *vague HOFAS spoilers* barren land turning fertile again comes up in HOFAS, both Midgard and ACOTAR.

Another man finds the coffin and frees her, they get married, and the land turns fertile again (*vague HOFAS spoilers* again something like this with the land happens in HOFAS), which reminds me of Azriel potentially freeing Elain from the spell of a fake bond, and I think we will also see something like this with land in acotar 5.

Anyways slay elriel foreshadowing. I will edit this to fill in the HOFAS spoilers parts once the book comes out!

#hofas spoilers #Elriel #pro elriel #hofas

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 months

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The Night Nurse ~ Chapter 10

A John Wick x Helen Fic

Masterlist / Chapter Map

Author's note: It's been a minute since I posted on this fic, I'm so sorry!! I lost a good chunk of this chapter to an untimely computer update (fuck you very much Windows) and I was so frustrated I just had to let it sit for a while. BUT I finally managed to re-write it, so here we are! I hope you enjoy! 💗💗💗 (Oh and the illustrations here are from the turn of the century version of Afanasyev's Russian Fairy Tales, the book John hid his marker in, in JW3...you'll see why.😉)

Times gets tough

Oh, they get tougher

Hold on to me

I got you, darling…

-I’ll be your man, The Black Keys

The walls of his library were lined with built-in bookshelves, filled to the brim with antique and vintage books. A single leather reading chair sat in the corner with a lamp and a small table. A larger table took up the center of the room with a proper book cradle. Helen breathed in, reveling in the magical smell of old books. She realized that this must be where John gets some of that intoxicating scent of his, bottom notes of leather and parchment paper. The chair in the corner looked well-worn, and she imagined him spending hours of his downtime just sitting and reading away the day.

For the umpteenth time, it squeezed her heart to the point of pain.

Throughout the course of the tour, they did not let go of each other once. John didn’t seem to mind handling books with one mitt of a hand, the fingers of his left laced tightly with Helen’s.

“Do you still have your book of Russian fairy tales?”

“Yes.” Gingerly he pulled it from a shelf, resting it in the cradle on the table.

They perused the book together, Helen leaning against his shoulder. He was warm, and solid as a tree, and for a heady moment it was difficult to concentrate on the antique tome, no matter how beautiful. The illustrations were utterly gorgeous, and she mentally kicked herself into focusing. She thought about a young John toting this beloved book around the world with him like a Lost Boy with his teddy bear, and the thought succeeded in tying her up in inextricable knots.

John turned to a page of an illustration of a lovely peasant woman in the woods, holding a torch made of a glowing human skull. “Oh, who’s that?” asked Helen.

“That’s Vasilisa the Beautiful,” answered John.

She hovered her finger over the first line of Cyrillic, careful not to touch the paper. “What does it say?”

John read it aloud, his voice low and all for her, and she sighed a little, not understanding a syllable. For some reason hearing him speak another language so easily, and something about the lilting cadence of the language in his deep voice, the soft shh and musical ya sounds of the Russian words inspired a curl of lust in her belly, a small thrill zipping down her spine. She shuddered lightly, and prayed he hadn’t noticed.

He absolutely noticed, his pupils blowing wide with desire. Doggedly, he kept them fixed upon the page below.

“Is that, ‘Once upon a time’…in Russian?”

“Something like that. This is a Cinderella story about a young woman who outsmarts her wicked stepmother and the Baba Yaga with her determination and the help of her magical doll. It’s one of my favorites.”

He’d seen a bit of himself in Vasilisa as a young man, straining under the yoke of his unforgiving masters. He turned the page to reveal a witchy old woman riding in what looked like an upright log. Helen couldn’t suppress a grin. “Oh look, it’s you, Baba Yaga.”

John snorted at that. “I still don’t know what idiot started that damned nickname,” he groused.

Actually, he suspected it was Marcus, but he’d never found out for certain.

“It sounds fierce, at least.”

His lips twisted in a smirk, and he couldn’t help himself from turning to look at her, then. Their faces were torturously close. “Think I should get some flaming skull torches for out front?”

“Yes, I think the neighbors would love that,” she deadpanned, and more felt than heard John’s responding chuckle.

He turned the page to a new illustration of a strapping knight on a black horse. “Oh hello, handsome. Who’s this guy?”

John narrowly resisted the urge to ask if she had a thing for men in black, even as that telling warmth clouded his brain.

“That’s…Night.”

“The night Knight?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” Her lips twisted in a cheeky smile. “Nice. I like him.”

“You would.”

“I have excellent taste, John.”

He found himself looking at her mouth again, thinking her taste would be excellent. For the umpteenth time, he managed not to kiss her by the skin of his teeth. By the way she was looking at him...maybe he didn't need to be exercising such restraint. But maybe that was the excellent wine talking

Maybe he really was an idiot.

“So...in reward for being clever Baba Yaga gives Vasilisa one of the skull torches. She takes it back to her house, and when she lights the candles her wicked step mother and awful step sisters burn up.”

“Oooh. And she lives happily ever after?”

“Well...she marries the tsar, for what that's worth.”

Helen wrinkled up her nose, communicating her opinion on that. “Overall, I give it a nine out of ten.”

John couldn’t help it then. He actually grinned, showing teeth. “Glad you liked it.”

“Thanks for sharing with me.”

“My pleasure.”

She was still leaning on his shoulder, and was it him, or had she somehow sidled even closer, her body pressed to his side? Her eyes traveled leisurely from him to the book to the chair in the corner. It was then that she noticed that the bookmarked novel on the side table was a mass-market paperback she recognized quite well.

He’d taken her recommendation on the Codename Villanelle spy thrillers, despite teasing her about her taste in books, what felt like a lifetime ago that fateful night in the subway. The fact that he was on the second one touched her to no end, and she squeezed his arm.

“Aww, you’re reading about Eve and Villanelle,” she purred. “You like them?”

“Yes. You were right, they are fun.”

“Taking notes from Villanelle?” The Russian spy was wickedly clever at finding ways to kill her targets.

“Maybe. That poison hair stick was something. Think I could pull it off?” Helen reached up to curl a lock of his dark hair around her finger with a smile, and John couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation of her touching his hair.

He was hopeless.

“Oh, definitely. You could so rock the man-bun.”

John rolled his eyes at that, reluctant to admit that he often did when training.

Helen looked back to the book, now with what John was learning to recognize as a sly glint in her eye. “I’m on practically the same spot in that book,” she noted. “Want to read me a chapter?”

John looked at his reading chair, the comfortable old soldier that it was. It was also the only place to sit in the room, and he went a little cross-eyed at the thought of Helen curled up in his lap in it.

There would be zero reading done, of that he was certain. He would debauch her for the first time in that chair, and maybe again on the table for good measure.

A virulent heat licked at his collar as he imagined it. Fuck him, but she was making him blush.

“Sure. Let’s take it to the living room,” he proposed, ignoring her lips pursed in a theatrical pout.

Minx. She knew exactly what she was doing to him—and he was increasingly unsure why he wasn’t just letting her have her way.

He scooped up the paperback book, her hand still firmly clasped in his other while he led them back to the recessed living room. He set the book down on the couch. “Want another glass of wine? I’m going to clear these dishes.”

He needed to clear his head, and he felt Helen look at him with some disappointment that felt a little bit like being stabbed.

“Can I help you?”

“No, this is your night off. Sit, relax. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” She seated herself on the couch with only the book for company.

She watched John practically flee into the kitchen, and wondered if she’d done something wrong.

Regaled by the sound of clinking dishes and the faucet running, Helen looked around at John’s shelves. They were rather bare, though she noticed he had a bit of a CD collection on display. It plucked at her nostalgia for the days before everything could be so easily accessed via the hand-held computers known as phones but so rarely used for actually talking.

Standing, she decided to be nosy and thumb through them. He seemed to favor classics, from classical music, to rock and blues. There was very little on the shelf dating from past the 90s, and that made her smile for some reason.

“See anything you like?”

She turned to find John with two freshly-filled wine glasses in tow. He set them on the coffee table, before joining her at the built-in cd tower.

“Some good stuff here,” she agreed with a Chili Peppers cd in her hand. The fiery pool with the ocean in the background on the cover tickled the nostalgia center in her brain for sure. “Who are these guys?” She pulled out a black and white album with a high contrast photo of a guy with glasses, and a bearded dude.

“Never heard of the Black Keys?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, honey.”

She chuckled. “Ok, do not pull the my taste in music is better than yours card. I will leave.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he defended with a sly close-lipped smile. “I reserve that card only for books.”

She snorted in answer, and found herself gravitating closer to him, even just standing there looking at his music. She just couldn’t help it.

That really was some good wine he served with dinner.

She watched as he popped open the jewel case, feeding the CD into the slot of his player. He hit a couple buttons, and the speakers erupted with a very bluesy distorted guitar riff. It was loud, and John laughed a little as she jumped—conveniently, into his arms.

“Sorry.” He turned down the volume slightly, his arms circling her waist almost of their own volition. It felt so easy, being with her. Maybe from the very moment they’d met, it just felt like she should be in his arms, and acting on it made something loud and uneasy always clamoring in the back of his brain to go quiet. She swayed her head and shoulders a little to the beat; it was impossible not to.

“John?” she asked from beneath his chin, brushing the soft scruff of his beard with her nose. It filled him with a tingling warmth, in the very marrow of his bones, a pleasure in this closeness that just seemed too good to be true. It was like a drug, better than cocaine or heroin or anything else he’d ever tried, and he didn’t know how he would ever let her go.

“Yeah?”

“They made you learn ballet at your…school, but do you like to dance?”

He’d spent so much time in night clubs, hunting, and acting as backup muscle for Tarasov while he closed business deals, but it wasn’t a setting he really enjoyed. He wasn’t sure he really classified the writhing and arm waving one engaged in at the club as dancing. He was familiar with other dance forms, but they didn’t come up often in his life.

“I feel like you’re actually asking me a different question,” he teased, leaning into her to reach out to skip to a different track.

“I am?”

“You’re asking if I want to dance with you?”

The first metallic notes of Dan Auerbach’s guitar rang out, and John swayed to the beat, a hand on her svelte waist pinning her close. With a smile she moved with him, her other hand finding his.

“Do you?”

He looked down at her with a glint of mischief in those shining dark eyes, and so much warmth that a flood of heat washed through her from her hair follicles all the way to her toes. This man. She really would follow him anywhere. Maybe the wine they’d drank lubricated this thought process, but she knew that didn’t make it any less true.

John knew that his answer to any question that involved an activity with her would be a resounding yes. Groceries? Yes. The dentist? Fine. Just hold his hand. He was broken for her.

“Of course I do.” He lifted his arm to guide her in a turn before pulling her close again, and she simply couldn’t help it. The joy in her heart soared.

Then the vocals in the song began, and Helen couldn’t help the fuzzy warmth that spread in her chest. Need a new love? I’m ready. Want my time? I’m willing.

There wasn’t a huge amount of open space in the living room, but John was very good at making do, leading her in steps to the beat, throwing in fun checks and turns and behind-the-back maneuvers that made her giggle. She knew she sounded drunk. It was on him though, far more than the wine. He made her happier than any one had in a very long time. Maybe ever, if she was being honest with herself.

To make things even worse, the chorus of the song rang loud in her ears with the infectious guitar riff: I’ll be your man. Mmm, I’ll be your man. She didn’t know if he picked this song on purpose for the lyrics, or the intoxicating rhythm, but she felt it in her bones, and in her heart, and every cell of her being; she was so attuned to this man.

She almost tripped when he attempted to twist her up like a pretzel in a figure-eight step, but he caught her, laughing with her as he held her close.

“I’m not that good,” she apologized, clinging to him more than she really needed to. He was just…so solid, and if she was being honest all she really wanted to do was climb him like a fucking tree.

His arm around her waist was like a warm band of iron, and he smiled gently down at her. She felt herself melting like chocolate in the sun, her knees gone weak beneath her.

“That’s ok. I’ve got you.”

She couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped from her throat. Because, she knew it was true, and not just here being silly dancing in his living room. She realized she trusted him not to drop her no matter what they were doing, or what they were facing. That kind of faith in another person, much less a man, was a rare and precious thing.

“John…” she said softly, looking up into his warm dark eyes from so very close. She wasn’t sure if she was asking a question, or if she just needed to cite his name like a prayer, invoke him like a saint in her personal pantheon. Maybe it was madness, but wrapped up in his arms like this, he felt like something to believe in.

Her eyes drifted down to his mouth, those full lips she’d coveted since the moment they’d met, if she was telling the truth.

This was the moment that John’s will to fight it broke at last. He felt it inside, not like a hard snap, but a definite release, like a boat coming unmoored, being swept down a swift stream. There was no more resisting. He was lost to her.

Pulled like a magnet, he finally leaned in that fraction of distance to press his lips to hers. His kiss was like a sunrise in her heart; warm and bursting, soft and sweet. She couldn’t stop herself from standing on tiptoe with a low moan, looping her arms around his neck as she pressed her body against his. It won her something like a deep growl that thrilled her to her toes, and greedily she wanted more.

She teased the seam of his mouth with her tongue, begging entrance he gladly granted. She felt the tremor in his arms as he held her, so tightly that he nearly lifted her from the floor. He kissed her like a starving man offered a life-giving meal, and her fingers fisted in his hair at the back of his head, holding him to her, holding on.

His heartbeat a thundering timpani in his ears, John felt like Helen’s lips on his was the answer to a question his heart had been asking his whole adult life. She was the air he breathed, the sustenance necessary to live, and the desire to drink her down, to eat her up, was a dogged, insistent demand from the darkest depths of his soul.

He never wanted to let her go.

With a ragged breath he pulled back to rest his forehead against hers, his fingers digging into her sides. She might have bruises later.

She didn’t mind.

She wanted his hands, rough or gentle.

She wanted all of him, and if he didn’t return his mouth to hers she was going to scream.

“Helen,” he panted. “I—”

The tinny electronic sound of his phone ringing in his pocket interrupted what might have been a foolish—or a life changing—confession. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, knowing he had to answer it. That was the deal with the devil he’d signed, when he didn’t really have any better choice. He was on call all the time.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.

She nodded, but did not extricate herself, leaning on his shoulder while he pulled the device from his pocket. It was Viggo Tarasov, and his heart dropped like a stone. It was rare that the boss Himself called. He absolutely had to answer it, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t like what his pakhan had to say.

With a heavy heart he lifted the phone to his ear, his other arm still wrapped possessively around Helen.

“Da?”

“Good evening, John.”

John fought to keep the impatient snarl out of his tone, but feared he failed royally. “Evening, Viggo.”

“I’ve just heard some interesting things about your latest adventures about town. I think we need to talk.”

That was probably the understatement of the century.

“When?”

“Now.”

Of fucking course.

“I can be there in an hour.”

“Good.”

Viggo hung up, and John clenched the phone in his fist, fighting not to throw it across the room. He knew Helen heard every word for the way she sighed with disappointment, snuggling into the bend of his neck. The sensation of her front molded to his was heaven, and he didn’t know how to let her go.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized with lips to her forehead. “I have to go.”

“I understand.” There was some consolation, in that she sounded as devastated as he was.

“You’ll be ok here? My house is your house. Help yourself to anything you want.”

She made a kittenish little sound that sent all his blood straight to his groin. “What I want is leaving,” she informed him with a pouting lip, tugging on the front of his shirt.

He couldn’t stop himself then from stealing another kiss, a deep and probing thing that left her breathless and starry-eyed.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he told her.

“Promise?”

“Yes.” John wondered what Viggo had in store. If he was in trouble, or if his boss would send him out to teach the Medvedev boys a lesson tonight. He didn’t want to go hunting that night. Everything he truly wanted in the world, he realized, was standing right in front of him, looking up at him with melted toffee eyes. He cupped her cheek, memorizing every detail of her all over again.

He realized with a startling clarity that he could never get enough of her.

The intensity of his stare sent a thrill jetting down her spine. “John…” He worried her a little, when he got like this. She wasn’t afraid of him, exactly—but some little intuition in the back of her brain sang out that something bad might happen.

“It’ll be alright,” he told her, sensing her unease. “I have to change.” He kissed her forehead again, and disappeared up the stairs to his room.

Helen plopped down on the couch with a sigh, crushed with disappointment but knowing this was how it was, and she understood more than ever now that it wasn’t his fault or his choice. She picked up the Villanelle book, No Tomorrow, stroking her thumb over the cover, but not cracking it open.

When John stalked down the stairs he was wearing one of his slim-fit all black suits again, his hair slicked back from his face. He looked beautiful, and predatory, sleek as a panther stalking in the jungle, and fierce attraction warred with dread in Helen’s breast. She had a feeling that someone might die tonight, and it was so strange to think in those terms with such a sense of acceptance.

At least she knew John’s prey would be no one innocent.

“Don’t forget you owe me a chapter,” she said in a sing song tone as he approached, waving the book, trying to lighten the pall that had fallen upon the room.

The smile he paid her was filled with melancholy; she felt it like a knife between the ribs. “I won’t,” he assured her, taking her hand to press his lips to her knuckles. He paused, looking down at this beautiful woman seated on his couch, with her legs that went on forever and the warmth in her eyes all for him. There was nothing he wanted more, than to stay there with her. To lay her down and kiss every inch of her perfect flesh. He probably should have told her that, but he just sighed, and let her go.

“I’m going to leave this here, just in case,” he said, all business as he showed her a blocky black automatic pistol. “There’s one in the chamber. All you have to do is pull the trigger. It has a long trigger pull but please do not touch it unless you need it, and be very careful.” He stashed the Glock in a drawer beside the couch. “I’ll leave the alarm on. If it goes off I’ll get an alert on my phone.”

With wide eyes she nodded. “Do you…think the Medvedevs will come here?”

“No, or I wouldn’t leave you here alone.” He honestly thought this was the safest place for her. “But…” One never knows.

“Okay.” He could tell that he managed to scare her a little, and he hated himself for it.

“I’m being paranoid,” he tried to assure her. He dared add, “Because you’re precious to me.” She softened then, and stood to wrap her arms around his neck once more. Embracing her was as intoxicating as kissing her, and again John warred with himself as to how he was going to leave.

“Come back to me,” she demanded softly, kissing the soft scruff of his cheek.

“Always,” he answered without allowing himself to think about it, pressing his lips to hers in a long, gentle kiss filled with all the yearning in his heart.

Reluctantly, he slipped from her grasp, and didn’t look back.

She watched him go, admiring his tall dark form even as he was leaving her.

She heard the roar of the Mustang starting in the garage, and the trail of its growl as it prowled across the driveway, disappearing down the street into the night. She couldn’t help but feel like her heart sped away with it.

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x helen #helen wick #john wick the night nurse #keanu reeves

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hadesoftheladies · 20 days

Text

FEMALE MOVIE/TV RECS (PART 9 / ADULT & FAMILY ANIMATION)

got inspired from a recommendation post so decided to make a list of movies and shows with female-centric stories/female protagonists. since i can't post all of the genres in one post, i'll split it into multiple posts and y'all can save or add to the list as you wish. (disclaimer: i have watched most of these, but i only know about the existence of others. not every movie/show on these lists will be my recommendation. my recommendations will be beneath the list with reasons. also some of these are way better than others in terms of storytelling/performance--which is why i'll list my faves separately):

Common Themes/Tropes:

-Woman/girl is OP and gets bullshit from other people for it

-Heroine tries desperately to fix the world

-Leaving home to go on adventures for the sake of a dream or doing the right thing

-Sisters are a lifeline

-Women/girls can literally do or be anything

-Violence is the only answer men will understand

-The world is so big, grand and beautiful and she wants to see more of it

-Girls being the conscience of an entire society

-Things going ham when she reaches Boss Level

-Magic (and violence) are good things, especially paired together

-A man (usually a father or guy friend) is the only conscience she has left

-F*ck marriage there's bigger problems TM

-I must save my father/sister

-Serious mommy issues

-Has an animal companion or IS the animal companion (robots also count as animal companions in terms of function imo)

-Making friends with the monster

OF WHICH ARE FOR ADULT AUDIENCES:

Pantheon

Scavenger's Reign

Blue Eye Samurai

Arcane: League of Legends

Trese

HAVEN'T WATCHED:

Pantheon

Lilo & Stitch

Fiona & Cake

Star Vs. The Forces of Evil

Trese

Princess Mononoke

Green Snake

The Breadwinner

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Violet Evergarden

Barbie in The Diamond Castle

Monsters Vs Aliens

Epic

Finding Dory

Encanto

The Incredibles II

Tinkerbell: Legend of The Neverbeast

Brave

WOULD HIGHLY RECOMMEND:

Blue Eye Samurai (10/10) (super gritty, but the perfect revenge story, puts John Wick to shame)

Scavenger's Reign (8/10) (split story, but two of the main characters are women, and one is a black lesbian! fantastic animation, though don't watch if you're intensely trypophobic, it can be sci-fi horror)

Mulan (9/10) (one of the most perfect animated Disney classics)

Turning Red (8/10) (this movie remembered the tween era)

Tinkerbell (if you crave matriarchy, sisterhood, magic and female centric society and story, then you need to watch the Tinkerbell movies)

Wolfwalkers (7.5/10) (an anti-colonial, anti patriarchal, pro-pagan fantasy movie with beautiful animation and a very touching, female-centric story)

Arcane: League of Legends (10/10) (gorgeous animation, amazing writing, incredible performances, and don't get me started on the sisters that take centre stage--also, lesbianism and gender nonconformity!)

The Legend of Korra (8/10) (good writing, a badass protagonist, a fantastic cast of characters, beautiful scoring, beautiful animation, amazing action sequences)

PERSONAL NOTES

The Mitchells Vs The Machines is basically a drama between a lesbian girl and her dad who have to figure their relationship out while they're running from robots. It was full of heart and fun and had some good jokes in there. I'd definitely recommend it.

Raya & The Last Dragon is the first Disney movie with a gender non-conforming princess! It also has some of the best action sequences in any Disney animated movie, however it doesn't hold a candle to The Incredibles II, which stars Helen Parr as the main character of the film. It's one of my favourite films of all time because of how they depict Helen and the main villain of the story (a badass genius of a woman). Really pro-female films, even for all their flaws.

Abominable has some of the most gorgeous visuals I've seen outside of a Disney animation. The texturing and coloring is so vivid it makes my mouth water. It's far better than Over The Moon, but both have their own charm. Abominable and Home have very similar plots. Also, the girl in Home is voiced by Rihanna while Beyonce voices the queen of the faeries in Epic.

One movie that shares a similar theme (kindness to animals even if we don't understand them or they scare us) with Abominable is The Sea Beast. The Sea Beast is one of the best animations with a black female girl as a lead I've ever seen. There's also a badass black woman pirate. There are some scenes that could have been written (or colored) better, but I loved it either way. I think it was the first animated film to depict shrinkage for black hair! And it didn't lighten the skin or whiten the features of the black characters!

Many people view Frozen II and Brave as "almost" masterpieces whose writers ultimately failed them, and I can say that I agree to some extent. There are many things technically wrong with the movies. Minor details that set the pacing off or take away from the immersion. However, I still love both of them. I really love daughter vs mother and sister vs sister stories (that includes Tinkerbell: The Secret of The Wings) because there's so much to explore in such relationships. They also both have some killer soundtracks, some amazing visuals and well-executed action sequences. I've truly seen way worse than these two films, and the characters are mostly loveable.

The Breadwinner is an animated film about a girl dressing up like a boy under the rule of the Taliban so she can earn some money to help feed her family. It's scored very high by critics.

I'd also recommend The Owl House (even though there's some appeal to genderism in later seasons). It's the first time I've seen a bisexual animated character and the enemies to lovers arc with Luz and Amity is unmatched in cannon magic school stories. I also really love the depiction of The Owl Lady who is treated like a male character in that she is allowed to be non-maternal, single and old (and wrinkled), arrogant and boastful, all without the show trying to punish her for it. The Boiling Isles are also fascinating as a setting.

If you like The Owl House, there's a chance you'll love She-Ra. There were many things I found annoying about She-Ra, but my experience was mostly positive. I'm not the biggest fan of Catradora, but I do appreciate the drama. I loved the world-building and magic system mainly, so the character quirks didn't get to me as much as they have others. Also, amazing antagonists in this series. It could have been more mature, but it's still entertaining.

I also definitely recommend Home on The Range. It's a whole movie with talking animals, but there's no tomboy like the main female protagonist in a Disney movie. She is one of the most tomboy characters Disney ever made. Also, I love 2D animation and this film reminds me why. Also, the idea of a feminine, micromanaging old heifer, a bull-headed, roughhouse new girl cow, and a young airhead cow that can't sing going on an adventure across the wild west to save their human's (a sweet old lady with some bark and bite) farm? And they have to compete with a hotshot, asshole male horse who is young and fast? It's like the perfect western comedy but with cows!

Anyways, if you can't tell, I love animated stuff and a lot of these are my comfort movies.

#radblr #feminism #hadesoftheladies rec list #animation #animated show #animated movie #female centric animations #female centric stories #heroines

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