#and that line between good and bad. innocent and unforgivable. boy and monster

[dirtytransmasc]

totally don't imagine little Aegon, maybe 7 or 8, playing with his toys while Sunfyre watched on, pouncing on castles carved from stone and gnaws on little wooden soldiers.

don't imagine him play-fighting with his boy. Aegon and his training sword fighting against the merciless beast that is his little golden fledgling, gently attacking playful claws and flapping wings and nipping beak, parrying when the dragon gets too close. or Sunfyre finally tackling his boy, mocking dragonfire when he screeches in his face, before nuzzling his boys cheek.

don't imagine them curling up in the sun, out in the grass or in a windowsill. Sunfyre spreading his wings over his boy to bask in the light, burying his face in the warmth of the crook of Aegon's neck.

don't imagine the hatchling perching on his bonded's shoulder. don't imagine Aegon sneaking to see him when he was sad or angry. don't imagine Sunfyre crying out in distress, restless in his den when he could feel Aegon's distress but could not get to him

don't imagine the fledgling finding his way to Aegon's window, sneaking in and curling up next to the boy as he laid drunk and miserable, coping as he wrapped around him. don't imagine him perching on the roof of Aegon's chambers, crying to him when he got too big to enter.

don't imagine his sweet little chirps and songs. don't imagine Aegon's little giggles and chuckles. don't imagine the nuzzling of white hair or the scratching. don't imagine them being happy

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) I tried hating you but the anger is gone  DC COMICS

A03

Barry remembers what it's like to be in love. He remembers the fluttery, soft feeling in his stomach when their hands brushed, the warmth in his cheeks when their eyes met across crowded rooms. He remembers gentle words and whispered promises, and he remembers holding his whole world in his hands. He remembers thinking to himself that they'd always have each other, that they'd be together through thick and thin.

Barry remembers being in love, and he remembers learning that love wasn't always good enough. Love wouldn't survive everything, and people wouldn't either.

Once, Barry had held his whole world in his hands, but that had made it all the more painful for it all to be ripped away. One thing after another, until there had been nothing left but tears, and rage, and suffering - his own, and that of others. It hadn't filled the gaping hole in his chest, hadn't made him feel better, but he had told himself no one else would feel that pain again if he could help it.

No one else would lose their child. No one else would have to see the boy they'd raised and loved like their own turn to dust in front of their eyes. No one else would have to sacrifice themselves.

No one else would have their mentor, the closest thing to a father they’d had for a long time targeted because of who they were connected to.

No one else would see a city reduced to rubble, and then learn afterwards that a member of their own family had burned with it, unable to outrun the blast.

No else else would have to want so desperately for the little life inside of them to grow up big and strong, only for it to be taken away from them because some bastard wanted them to hurt.

So Barry had stood back. He had stepped aside and stayed quiet and done as he was told because it meant that no more innocents would have to suffer. He'd beaten down his own morals and ripped away everything that made him a hero, because he'd sacrifice himself so that no one else would have to.

He'd turn himself into a monster if it meant that the fighting would end.

He could understand Superman's pain, his rage and anger, because Barry had felt them both, first when Wally had died to save the world, and again when Zoom had stolen that little blossom of hope he'd held inside of him. He could understand why Joker had to die, he could understand the leap in logic Clark had followed, because Lois and her baby had been innocent.

Innocence hadn't saved them, but Superman had promised them a world where it wouldn't happen again, if only they followed him.

Barry had always been a follower.

A follower, and a coward.

So Barry had followed. He’d followed Superman, he’d followed Hal; he followed them so far that he almost doesn’t recognize himself anymore. He’d once thought to himself that he’d follow them into hell, but he’d never thought it would be a hell of his own making. Barry had walked himself into failure, all while telling himself that he was trying to make the world a better place.

He’d lied to himself. He lied to himself after every death, after every injury and cruelty. He’d kept lying to himself, unwilling to see past his own suffering to see others hurting just as much because of his own actions. He’d clung so tightly to the illusion of peace that he’d ignored the bodies he was stepping over to get there.

He’d already lost Wally, he’d lost Jay, he'd lost Bart, he’d lost the baby, he'd even lost the Rogues, and he hadn’t wanted to lose anyone else.

But then he lost Iris.

Barry’d been in love with Iris for so long that he almost didn’t remember how  not to love her, but she’d seen him for what he truly was, what he had been trying so desperately not to look at; a monster and a coward. She looked him in the eye and laid it all out, every single one of his failures, and then she walked away, and for once in his life, Barry hadn’t followed. He’d been angry, and hurt, and it had been a painful knot in his chest that made it hurt to breath as all those soft fluttery feelings turned caustic and poisonous.

Barry had been in denial, but his eyes had begun to see past the illusions he’d made himself.

Nothing she had said was a lie.

When Iris had left them, Barry had turned around and clung so tightly to Hal that he’s surprised he hadn’t choked the Lantern. He knows now that Hal had been struggling just as much as he had been, had been floundering after the loss of Wally, their child, and then Iris, but all Barry had seen at the time was someone to hold onto. He’d been grabbing for any stability he could, and Hal had been there. Hal had always been his rock, just as Barry had always been a beacon to guide him home, but loss had sent them both into free fall, and neither of them knew that they didn’t have a safety net until they hit the unforgiving ground.

This time, it was Barry who walked away.

Shazam -  Billy’s  death had been the last straw. He had been the one to finally shatter the world Barry had built for himself.

Superman had killed a  child.

Barry couldn’t look away anymore, he couldn’t avert his eyes or plug out the sounds again.

So he had started to listen again, he started to act instead of follow.

Barry saves people again, and it had started with Batman, back even before Billy. It had started with  Bruce; Bruce who was Barry’s friend, Bruce who Barry was supposed to hate - but Barry’s too empty for hatred.

He had been angry for so long that he wonders if he’ll ever feel anything again.

Changing sides isn’t easy, but Barry never thought it would be. He turns his back, he walks away from  Hal.  He asks Hal to  come, to leave Superman behind and become a  hero again, and when he refuses Barry ignores Hal pleading with him to stay with him. It hurts to leave Hal, it’s agony to hear the terror in his voice when he’d told him there was no leaving Superman, but Barry can’t stay anymore. Hal won’t come with him, and Barry walks away. He knows he’s not going to be welcomed among Batman’s rebellion with open arms, he’s spent too long following behind Superman for that to happen, but he doesn’t let the cold reception get to him, doesn’t let the ache in his jaw stop him.

He needs to make it right after all, even if it’s likely none of them will ever trust him again. Even if it’s likely he’ll never wash the blood from his hands, the least he can do is try to prove to them that he’s genuine. To prove that he wants to repent for what he let happen, for what he did, and the people who died because Barry was too cowardly to make his voice heard, or too blind to see.

Bruce’s people don’t trust him, but Barry doesn’t blame them. He doesn’t even trust himself anymore. He lets them put the monitor on him, he lets them glare and whisper. He can feel them watching him, he sees the way they shy away, he knows the doubt. He doubts himself too, he wonders, sometimes, that if it starts getting too hard, will he fall back into the habits he’d developed? Will he kill again if things get too slow, too irritating?

Who will suffer if Barry has a bad day?

They’re afraid of him.

Barry’s afraid of him too. He’s afraid of what he could do, he’s afraid of what he’s done. He’s afraid that someday he’ll go too far again, and he’s afraid that once he starts on that road again, he won’t be able to turn back. He’s already lost everything, and he’s afraid that someday, he’ll decide to throw away whatever is left.

Some days, all that fear gets to be too much for him to handle.  Everything gets to be too much. The memories and the what-ifs rise in a tidal wave that not even he can outrun, and they sweep him back out to the sea of misery. He drowns in it.

He just wants it all to end.

It’s during one of these episodes that Batman finds him.

Barry’s folded himself into a dark corner, his head buried in his knees as everything gets to be  too much. Sometime, in between the moment his heart and started hammering in his chest and the world had started to get fuzzy, he’d ripped off the helmet, and his hands had found their way into his hair where he’d started to  pull  as the weight on his chest grew to be crushing. He’s probably vibrating, a distant part of Barry knows, and it’s probably set off one of the many alarms Batman has linked to him, but Barry can’t bring himself to care. All he can think of is the empty yellow and red suit, the warped helmet, the hole where Metropolis used to be. All he can hear is the ragged sound of his own breathing and the voices of the doctors telling him the baby hadn’t survived Zoom’s attack.

He remembers that kid, the one who had thought he was strong enough to fight back, the one who had wanted to do the right thing, and the sound of his back breaking when Wonder Woman and Superman put him down with the intention of keeping him down.

Barry could have stopped them.

But he didn’t.

All he did was watch, and then run away when it got too much and he’d seen the face of a kid who learned that his idols weren’t heroes any more.

He wants it to stop.

“Flash.”

He’d go back if he could. Bruce had told him to restart everything, but Barry had been too scared then, that he’d just make everything worse.

“Flash!”

Why shouldn’t he? It would be easy to just start running. He’d erase himself from the timeline, and maybe the next Barry would be  better . Maybe the next Barry wouldn’t fail everything and everyone.

Maybe the next Barry would be fast enough.

“Allen!”

Better yet, maybe the Speed Force would decide that he was unworthy, and Barry Allen wouldn’t survive the lab accident that had given him his powers.

“God dammit -  Barry! Snap out of it.”

Barry comes back to himself with a stinging cheek and a gasp. He feels like there’s cotton stuffed in his head, like there’s a vice in his chest and a knife in his guts. Batman - no, that’s  Bruce, the helmet is  off - is kneeling in front of him, hands on Barry’s shoulders and expression drawn with stress, making the premature age lines all the more obvious around his stormy eyes.

“I-” Barry wheezes, blinking tears out of his eyes as he stares at Bruce in shock, then at where the vigilante’s hands are resting on his shoulders. The warmth of the touch is seeping through his costume, it makes his skin tingle even with the layers between them, and Barry wonders almost hysterically how long it had been since someone had willingly  touched him without intending to hurt him. “Bruce?” His voice is a choked rasp, and with a panic dissipating, the numbness starts to set in again.

The touch, however, stops it from settling in.

Bruce is frowning at him. When was the last time he had smiled? When was the last time  any of them had had something to smile about?

Barry used to like it when he smiled.

“What just happened?” Bruce demands, but despite the harsh tone, the hands on his shoulders are still gentle, and Barry can only blink at him, a little dumbly. He’s a little too busy thinking about how nice the warmth of another person’s touch is to really give Bruce’s words much thought. “Barry.”

Barry jolts, “I - uh-” he stutters, “-sorry.”

Bruce’s frown is easing slightly, back into that emotionless mask that he’d been wearing for -  how long had he been wearing it? He’s studying Barry now, like he’s trying to gauge how much of a threat he is now that Bruce had seen him panicking. “Does that happen often?” He asks blankly, and Barry shakes his head, a little frantic.

“No!” He says desperately; he needs to stay on Batman’s good side. He needs to put his best foot forward, after all the shit he’s put Bruce through over the years. He just wants to do at least one thing right in his life.

Hal and Iris aren’t here to guide him through his attacks. He doesn’t have a lightning rod to draw him back anymore.

“No - no, it’s just - I’ll be fine once the shaking stops.” Barry tells him, “I’m sorry.”

Bruce is still staring at him, “How long has it been happening?”

Barry lets out a bitter, shaky laugh, “Years.” He says, arms moving to curl around his stomach, and he sees Bruce’s eyes follow the movement, sees the moment Earth’s greatest detective connects the dots. He’d had a front row seat to what state Barry had been in after Zoom’s attack had almost killed him. Barry knows he’d been in the Watchtower when Barry had been brought in, covered in blood and barely hanging onto consciousness because he hadn’t been able to fight back against the other speedster. Batman would have seen the medical reports when they’d been added to his file, would have known the extent of the damage Barry’s body had taken.

He knows what Barry had lost. He knows just how much Barry had personally related to Superman.

Bruce is quiet for a long moment, studying Barry as the shaking slows, and his hands stay on his shoulders, a grounding influence that helps the speedster drag himself out of the storm of emotions he had fallen into. Bruce has always been good at it, helping Barry slow down; it’s always been something that Barry’s been grateful for, and he’s been missing the other man’s influence and presence in the last years.

Back when he’d first noticed that Superman wasn’t listening to them anymore, he’d wished that Batman were there, because Bruce had always been the one that Superman would turn to. The one they’d  all  turn to if they needed someone to talk them down from something, to point out when their logic was flawed; Bruce had always been the best of them, no matter how much the man hadn’t believed them when they’d said it.

None of this would have happened if they’d just listened to Bruce.

“You told me once to change the timeline.” Barry says helplessly, staring up at Bruce with pleading eyes. What he’s pleading for, he doesn’t know; condemnation? Permission? Just someone to hold him?

Slowly, Bruce nods his head, an acknowledgement of the statement, “And you told me that it was something you’d only consider once we’d already exhausted all of our options.” He points out.

Barry’s laugh is almost hysterical in response, “I could just make everything worse.” He says shakily, “But what difference would that make? Everything’s already fallen apart.”

“True.” Bruce agrees, “But there’s still hope we can do better. That we can fix this. We can’t give up that chance just yet.”

It’s almost ironic hearing this from Bruce, a known realist. Barry had always been the hopeless dreamer, the one who always tried to see the bright side in a situation, the one who always urged the others to do the same. But now? After everything that had happened, everything he had lost, everyone who had suffered? Barry can’t see any possible light in their dark world.

“We’re not just fighting for ourselves, Barry. Or the people we’ve lost.” Bruce’s hands tighten on his shoulders, “We’re fighting for a future for everyone else on this planet. A future where they can make their own choices and no one has to live in fear of being heard saying the wrong thing.”

“I don’t know what the right thing to do is anymore.” He admits, “I don’t know how I can fix what I’ve done.”

“All any of us can do is try.” Bruce tells him quietly, and Barry meets his eyes, blue to blue. He sees the sadness there, the numbness and helplessness that he knows all too well. They’d both lost  everything; their children, their friends, their futures. Anything they had planned for themselves had fallen apart. They’d lost love and friendship to anger, and to hate, and then they’d lost that too.

What more  could they lose?

When Bruce starts pulling away from him, Barry rocks forward almost desperately, not wanting to lose the tiny connection they had made, not wanting to let Bruce slip away from him again after getting a glimpse at the man he had cared for after so long of nothing. He stops at the last second, however, and he stays where he lands on his knees, staring up at Bruce as the man slowly offers him a hand.

“Come on.” Bruce’s voice washes over him, “We’ve got work to do.” Bruce is watching him with a quiet seriousness, the same loneliness Barry feels echoed in his eyes.

He’s offering him a choice.

And Barry?

He takes the hand, and he chooses the future Bruce sees.

[ofstormboys-blog]

⧼    matthew daddario, cisgender male, he/him   /   old pine by ben howard   +   a lone black wolf standing on an overcast hill, thunder in the distance on a lonely night, the sound of rain through an open window as music softly plays, worn leather jackets, a loyal pet never leaving your side    ⧽   ━━      don’t look now, but that’s GABRIEL O'CONNELL. the THIRTY-TWO (536) year old VAMPIRE has been here in seattle for NINE YEARS, and is considered to be a NOMAD. they’ve always been EMPATHETIC & MYSTIFYING, but i guess this town just brings out the worst in people ; apparently, they’ve been way more UNFORGIVING & DISTANT than usual. it wouldn’t surprise me if they knew what was going on.   [   shiloh, twenty-five, cst, he/him   ]

BASICS.

BIRTH NAME: unknown. CHOSEN NAME: gabriel beckett o'connell. NICKNAMES: gabe, beckett, beck. BIRTHDATE: september 21, 1483 ad. AGE: thirty-two (536). BIRTHPLACE: scotland. GENDER: cisgender male, he/him. ORIENTATION: bisexual biromantic. SPECIES: vampire, feeds on humans. OCCUPATION: artist. PORTRAYAL: matthew daddario.

PHYSICALITY.

HEIGHT: six feet, five inches. POWER: darkness manipulation, also known as umbrakinesis. gabriel can create, control, and shape darkness to his every whim and has in the past used his abilities offensively and defensively. gabriel can create structures of shadow that can vary in solidity but are not entirely bound by any certain laws. a construct made in the image of a gun will shoot a solid bullet of shadow, a wall of darkness will act as a shield, and tendrils of shadow can be used as deftly as his own hands and still slice through others like a sharpened blade. naturally his ability is weaker in sunlight but he can still draw upon darkness even then, though not to the same extent as if it were night. gabriel can see through shadows and even track others via their own shadow if he wishes, though the further a shadow the harder it is until they ultimately disappear if they get too far away. his most prominent use of his ability allows him to meld perfectly into shadows to become intangible and move between them from shadow to shadow. at night he can practically teleport through the darkness. of course, his ability does take its toll and without proper feeding he can find even the most simple use of the ability to be detrimental. ABILITIES: over the centuries gabriel has amassed a wide assortment of abilities. he is trained in the martial arts and has mastered nearly every form available, only stopping out of boredom than anything else. he is a skilled thief and detective, his skills are usually put to use when he feeds as he only feeds only those that harm innocent people. he is also a skilled archer and swordsman, though he is much more deadly than any human weapon and so he doesn't ever use the skills unless for show. his most accomplished talents reside in the arts as his way of making money. from music to painting, art has been his true passion for centuries. CLOTHING: dark leather jackets, wool sweaters and the occasional turtle neck, dark denim with leather boots, sunglasses to hide his eyes, an old ring from his best friend's noble house usually on his right middle finger, button ups with the sleeves rolled up, darker colors in general.

HISTORY.

(content warning: murder, slight descriptive vampire feeding, amnesia, loss of identity, imbalance and emotionally abusive relationships.)

the earliest memory he has is the waking from transition in the lap of his sire, hands stroking his hair. after this there is burning hunger, so white hot and his sire coos when he kills an innocent farm girl the second they step outside. he has no name - no home or family to speak of. his sire claims that they don't know of them, but they always call him sweet pet names like darling or beloved or dearest. on the bad days he is it or the man, something less than human and he has to work hard for the forgiveness of his maker in those days when he somehow earns their ire.

together they carve a bloody trail through europe but never stray close enough to italy. they feast on innocents every night, and for a time he relishes in the decadent debauchery and cruelty of it all because they look at him like he's the brightest star in the sky. in time he begins to question though - who is he really? he wants more than to just be a senseless killer.

in time, about half a century later, his sire grows bored of him - of the conscience starting to grow inside him. they tell him the ugly truth - they had courted for awhile when his sire manipulated their way into his family's home back before it all. when they were found out, instead of just leaving his sire had killed his whole family and turned him for the fun of it.

he fled his sire and didn't look back, content to be nothing but a senseless monster once more. that was when an older, more mature found him and literally as well as figuratively kicked his ass. in a way they adopted him and taught him how to be more than monster with no soul. they gave him a name and even helped him to at least discover he came from a long destroyed village in scotland.

eventually, gabriel found some semblance of peace in his situation - he could never regain what he lost but he could build something new.

TL;DR - gabriel was a scottish human living a simple life when his future sire shacked up in his family's home under the guise of a poor stranger needing safety of course, gabriel being young and easy, fell into bed with his sire while still human. eventually after catching said vampire in the act of feeding - his sire killed his family and turned him to be their new plaything. maybe it was the trauma of watching his family's senseless murder or outside forces but gabriel developed total amnesia about his identity - amnesia that would never fade in time. they made a mess of europe for some fifty years before the truth came out and gabriel fled only to be eventually found by his future best friend who would help him figure himself out.

MISCELLANEOUS.

AESTHETICS: a lone black wolf standing on an overcast hill, thunder in the distance on a lonely night, the sound of rain through an open window as music softly plays, worn leather jackets, a loyal pet never leaving your side, piano music in the early morning hours, low growling from a dark treeline, hooded figures protecting innocents from criminals, blood smeared across chiseled jawlines, calloused hands gripping supple thighs, bruised knuckles left bloodied, darkness creeping along arms, two red eyes staring in the darkness, a full moon on a moonlight night, claw marks on sweaty backs, the sound of a paintbrush on canvas, full libraries, perfectly tailored suits with fancy watches, paint stained hands, gently strumming a guitar, a lonely figure strolling on a rainy day. SOUNDTRACK: sky full of song by florence + the machine, old pine by ben howard, mr. sandman by syml, river flows in you by yiruma, i am not a robot by marina, medicine by daughter, broken crown by mumford & sons, the fear by ben howard, believe by mumford & sons, cover your tracks by a boy and his kite, all these things that i've done by the killers, darkness keeps chasing me by grace vanderwaal, the troubles by u2 featuring lykke li, cold by aqualung featuring lucy schwartz, arsonist's lullaby by hozier, the loved ones by sanders bohlke, ghosts by james vincent mcmorrow, thousand eyes by of monsters and men, i'll be good by jaymes young, an unkindness of ravens by sanders bohlke, in the woods somewhere by hozier, come back for me by jaymes young, short change hero by the heavy, beauty of the dark by mads langer. DOPPELGANGERS: jonathan reid (vampyr), stefan salvatore (the vampire diaries), edward cullen (the twilight saga), geralt of rivia (the witcher), angel (buffy), adaline bowman (the age of adaline), emma swan (once upon a time), bruce wayne (dc comics), elijah mikaelson (the vampire diaries), dean winchester (supernatural), matthew murdock (marvel comics), alice cullen (the twilight saga), magnus bane (the shadowhunter chronicles), alexander lightwood (the shadowhunter chronicles).

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

SIRE/PAST: the vampire that made it all happen. they're conniving and manipulate and seductive and totally bad for gabriel which would totally be fun to see play out in present day now that gabriel has an identity and self worth. SAVIOR: the vampire that saved gabe from himself. they're pretty much the lexi branson to his stefan salvatore tbh. DEFO NEED THOSE BFF FEELS. DESCENDANTS: it would be cool if somewhere down the line gabriel discovered he has living descendents - like maybe a sibling survived and went on to have children that passed on legends of the supernatural or something. BUYER/INTEREST: someone that buys his art but is also more than that. they actually push him and seek him out instead of letting him run away - they intrigue him and he finds himself wanting to actually know someone for once.

[bytheanchorarchived]

d r a b b l e

───   jace herondale,    t h e   f a i r   f o l k

book and show mix of jace herondale  after day of atonement

                                                   jace closed his eyes for a moment as he played, it was an exercise he did since he was a child, close his eyes and feel the keys, instead of seeing them, and try to play perfectly the same tune again and again and again — see with his ears if he’d followed the sheets to a t.

the soft, gentle, tones of the piano filled the room, and he knew they were echoing beyond, through the hallways of the institute, for anyone passing to listen to, but he wasn’t thinking about that now. 

and now, my boy, you’ll know what it means to be a herondale. jace worked through the grave part of the song, lips pressed in a tight line.  h e r o n d a l e. he tested the name on his tongue, even inside his mouth. if yesterday was anything to measure by, he wasn’t so sure the herondale family would want him in their history. they’d be so proud of you. he tried to imagine that. but all he could think of was valentine smiling as he cut the strings on the back of the dummy just right, and the mannequin fell apart. it had been hours before he got it just right from the first plunge. it was gray and cold when they started, and black and cold when they finished. that was the kind of task he was good at completing, the way he knew how to make a parent proud. you have your mother’s looks. he frowned. his mother... had she loved him? his father, he was valentine’s right hand after luke was gone, but everyone had described him as a good man. was he just fooled by valentine like everybody else? like jace, himself, had been? was loving valentine a weakness in his very blood? 

jace kept on playing. don’t hesitate, jace. he worked his long fingers through the keys. when he was eight, he couldn’t reach all of them. yes, you can, i know you can. he’d never want to disappoint father, because when he disappointed father, father didn’t love him, and if father didn’t love him, who would?

to love is to destroy. don’t let your emotions cloud your judgement. can you pledge your loyalty to the clave? no. jace didn’t want to think it. didn’t want to dwell on it. but if that was really how his grandmother thought, felt, acted, was there really a difference between his new family and his fake one? you sound like valentine. what was so different between the way valentine acted, and what the clave did? was alec right and his new name just the other side of the coin to his old one? the clave could be argued with, his father couldn’t. could his grandmother be argued with? could she one day be an advocate for changes in the clave? somehow he doubted it.but he had to believe if he wanted to keep on fighting.

you’re a herondale, get used to the perks. was that what it meant now? that he wasn’t one of them anymore? did alec resent him for having been shoved into yet another family he never sought out? only he didn’t know if he hadn’t WANTED this one. for one moment, for one single moment, he had, actually. the moment that ring was placed around his neck, the weight of it cold against his chest, jace never thought he could have felt prouder, the feeling of belonging punched the air right out of him. now his grandmother was gone without another word, alec had looked at him the entire day before like jace’s very presence disappointed him, and he wasn’t sure he belonged anywhere. again. you were never a stray. wasn’t that what he’d always been?

jace you can’t do this. there was so much death. so much death on top of him. downworlders, shadowhunters, all now skinned alive and screaming. jace couldn’t save them. but he’d had to TRY. no. he’d begged but it wasn’t enough. he’d tried but it wasn’t enough. he couldn’t reach the keys — maybe if we snap the ligaments you’ll be able to stretch, would you like to try that? or would you like to try harder? 

you just let it happen?! he had before, hadn’t he? had let valentine happen, had let him keep on living, had let him activate the sword, had not even been strong enough to keep him from USING it. had let kaelie get completely out of control and take it out on his people. had never seen. had never noticed. had never sensed those same hands that ran over his skin would be the ones ripping it off his comrades, killing them with agony. 

jace tell her to stop, you know this is wrong. could he really? could he tell imogen herondale to do ANYTHING? and if he DID, would she stop? valentine never had. valentine would have hit him on the mouth for daring to speak up against him, punishment would be a lot more than that if jace had dared tried to tell him what to DO. imogen didn’t struck him as someone that would had restrained her hand if her child had done the same. and wasn’t that clue enough? but then again, maybe it was that jace just didn’t WANT to believe, just couldn’t make himself believe that the one family he finally got was this. that maybe he’d been better in valentine’s hands, and what kind of thinking was that? was his new family, the royal herondales, was it all that was left of its history really that bad? was every piece of jace that dishonourable? make me proud. he didn’t think he could.

i’m doing my best. and he was, wasn’t he? even when he was just trying to follow heavy orders in even heavier times, and had no actual, practical control over any of it, he was just trying his best. if he refused, what would have kept imogen from just picking another shadowhunter to do her bid? what would then be of the downworlders that were innocent and that jace wanted to make sure to save? were a few hours in a spacious jail cell really that hard to take, for clearance and tracking the actual killer a lot faster without wasting their efforts in keeping an eye on every damn suspect that came their way? jace didn’t think so, but then, maybe he was biased, he was used to being trapped in much smaller spaces than that, after all.

you know, not too long ago, everyone thought you had demon blood. if you weren’t a herondale, she’d be locking you up too. that one had hurt most of all, hadn’t it? clary’s eyes unforgiving as she lashed out the words, and jace’s mind filled with every excruciating thought that had crossed his mind on those weeks he spent thinking he was a monster (in the very words of the woman he thought was his mother), and every bad thing he ever did, had now a cause and explanation. he’d been more than willing to destroy himself, then, to make sure all of those people that were now under suspicion, were SAFE. he had failed then of, course. so maybe that was what clary meant. that no matter on what side he was, he couldn’t make things better, that his best wasn’t good enough, and might never be, because he was cursed, as valentine had always known, because he couldn’t bring anything to the world other than death and misery, demon blood or no demon blood. 

it had been so easy, after all, for clary to stop loving him, and he never quite saw it so clearly until that moment. clary couldn’t love him, and why had he thought different? clary was loving, strong, not damaged at all, courageous and moral. she’d seen all of his flaws, all of his darkness, after all, there was no way she could had ever wanted a part of it. how could he ever blame her? clary was right. and this new name, this new family he had foolishly thought would maybe one day be a reason for pride, and dare he say, how stupidly he thought, happiness, was just another bitter, foul, gift, wrapped and handmade by valentine. valentine delivered him to imogen like a prize, knowing full well how it’d end, the herondale name damaged and jace remembering every lesson valentine had taught him on that ship about the clave. 

you deserved it. he had no answer for it. he did. he always did. didn’t he? if only you had tried harder. i really didn’t want to do this, jonathan. do you see what you put us both through when you fail? he had failed, had failed all of them. the song got faster.

he hadn’t seen alec anymore, hadn’t heard from him, hadn’t talked to him, had felt nothing but confusion and hurt through the bond, and then an odd surge of happiness. his phone had stayed silent. clary had taken simon away and hadn’t called either, hadn’t had reason to.

was that why he went? fix it, fix it. if he couldn’t fix it for anyone else... the wall, hands, claws. his fingers stumbled and then clashed on the keyboard. jace stared, panting, and for a second expected the blood, expected the blow. this is it, the end of the line. do you think you did well, jonathan? it didn’t come.

jace looked up and rose an eyebrow as he saw there was someone standing at the doorway. he didn’t remember having ever been sneaked up on by anyone, before. he squeezed his hands working out the familiar cramps from lack of constant study. he must had been really out of it. 

[idontneedasymbol]

12x14 The Raid

Agh.  While there were some things to like about this ep (both the boys were looking more gorgeous than ever) there was a lot I didn’t care for. Under a cut for those who want to stay positive!

I don’t understand what the show is doing with the BMOL. Eps like this make me think we’re meant to think of them as potential allies, as maybe having some good ideas. But we’ve seen them do such evil things, it’s pretty much impossible to trust them. In particular, there’s no way to get over “First Blood.” Ketch slaughtered innocent humans, with Mick’s awareness/permission, for no reason except they could’ve been a hassle for Sam & Dean (and law enforcement was never more than a hassle.)

And no, neither Mary nor the boys know about that. But they do know about a lot of other things. The BMOL’s methods are sketchy as hell, but the show isn’t treating it that way at all. The vampires are being massacred, and we’ve met good vampires before -- Lenore, Benny, the poor sheriff in “Hibbing 911.” But the show doesn’t mention this, hasn’t raised it as a point. I wasn’t sure if the vampires were meant to be at all sympathetic -- the scene with the vamp woman who’d lost her nest, that was set up to be sympathetic in appearance, but then they were stressing she was being given a mug of human blood, so maybe it was meant to be ironic/black comedy with monsters aping humanity, but we’re supposed to want them dead. But not beaten, apparently?

But if the show isn’t intending the monsters to be sympathetic, and the audience is supposed to think that maybe Mary and now Sam are right to choose to work with the BMOL...why were we already given such strong evidence that they’re bad news? Is there actually conflict in the writers’ room of how to handle this? Or is it just clumsy storytelling?

More than the BMOL, though, I didn’t like either of the boys in this episode. Sam got to be badass, yeah. And his deciding to side with the BMOL at the end was not exactly unexpected -- they (unwittingly?) played to his weakness; he wants so badly to help, and that they needed him to survive here, were dependent on him, makes him want to save them. But his “Good” at that hunter being taken off and (implied) tortured -- wow WTF? If the BMOL just executed the guy, I could maybe see Sam approving. But to have Sam, with all his history of torture, be glad to see it happen to someone else...even someone who hurt his mom...seems really unpleasantly OOC. Mary saying “good” was disturbing, too, but Sam especially.

...Especially because the BMOL didn’t say, he betrayed us/got us killed -- Ketch says “We have ways of dealing with hunters who go rogue” -- like they’re policing hunters. Toni was torturing Sam because he’d ‘gone rogue’ -- and Sam is okay with this? Really?

(If Sam is trying to infiltrate the BMOL, if he’s suspicious of them but trying to get on their good side, then it works fine. But I really don’t think that’s where this season is going, as much as I want it to be.)

(OTOH “You’re changing the world, I want to be part of it,” is a really ambiguous line, so maybe...?)

Meanwhile Dean has been so freaking one-note this season. He gets angry with the people he loves, then he realizes he’s in the wrong and apologizes. In this case it was extra obnoxious, because they changed the course of the argument from one ep to the next. And I don’t believe I’m saying this, but it was better in BuckLemming’s ep. Sam and Dean at the end of last ep were both expressing anger, disappointment, betrayal with Mary. And then, as if the show realized that it was hard to dig Mary out of this one, they switched Dean to sulking about Mary not acting like a mother to them/him. Which is not what this fight should have been about. Mary’s not at fault here because she’s not tucking them in at night; she lied to them, put them in danger, nearly got Cas killed, got a hunter killed. These aren’t unforgivable actions; the boys have both done worse, in their day. But the show isn’t addressing what she’s actually doing wrong; instead it’s having Dean be childish and immature and then eventually get over it and acknowledge his mom as her own person.

Which is a theme I’m kind of getting tired with. There’s been emphasis placed on Dean specifically having to accept that the people he loves are still individuals who have the right and responsibility to make their own choices. And yes it’s a lesson he really needs to learn. But in doing this it’s severing any sense of relationship -- that the decisions you make do affect those close to you, and therefore you should take them into account. You shouldn’t let someone else dictate your decisions, obviously. But the lesson being played out here is that if your decisions hurt your family then that’s entirely their problem. Which is the opposite of a major theme of the show all before this.

The ep also did a thing it’s been doing all season, that Dean is just there at the end, and we don’t see him arrive, don’t see him finding out Sam was in trouble. It makes a specific point that he didn’t know Sam was there, to emphasize that he was entirely concerned about Mary, and that’s fine and all (though yeah, I’m annoyed that Dean is being written as so simplistic that it takes her being in danger for him to realize he’s being a dick; I thought he might’ve finally grown up a little but apparently not.) But it means that again, we don’t get any moment of caring between the brothers. Rather than supporting each other through this trial, they’re -- not even fighting, really, which would lead to the opportunity for cathartic reunion, a la Carver era; instead they’re just not working together as real partners. They argue a bit at the beginning, but then it’s put aside in favor of Dean with Mary and Sam with the BMOL.

And it’s frustrating, because I want to like Mary, and I don’t want to feel like she’s taking away the brother’s bond (or at least taking away the show’s focus on it)...but that’s what seems to be happening and it’s hard not to resent that, when it’s my favorite part of the show.

Annoyingly, they didn’t need to do this; Mary came across pretty good in this episode otherwise. It was confirmed she’s doing this because she’s trying to make the world safe for her boys, to get them out of this life. It might not be what they want, but wanting to do what you think is best for your loved ones even if they disagree is the Winchester way. And her not being as bothered by vampire genocide makes more sense in her case; she was raised as a hunter, and as far as we know has never met a ‘good monster’ (since she sees angels as something else -- she hasn’t met any bad angels?) Her reaction to Crowley is a case in point -- she sees monsters as monsters, to be killed, as Dean thought for a long time (and Sam never did, which is what’s making his being okay with the BMOL now so weird and OOC.)

And while it seemed like she was a disappointingly bad judge of character, to fall for the BMOL’s schtick, now that it’s looking like Sam (and probably Dean eventually?) is falling for it, too, that doesn’t reflect as badly on her.

It’s also unfair to Sam’s character -- he had a whole episode with Mary and he didn’t really advance his relationship with her much at all -- Mary got to mention that she knows he tried to leave hunting, but Sam as usual for s12 doesn’t really get to express much of his own feelings about that or anything else.

What I’m trying to figure out now is where this season is going. Right now they’ve set it up that while the BMOL have some disagreeable traits, they are effective -- they’re basically making the last eleven seasons of hunting look bad and incompetent. Since it seems unlike that the show is actually going to eliminate the supernatural and let the boys retire, the BMOL are going to have to be proved to be evil -- so evil that it taints their methods such that they can’t be applied in the future (at least not on this scale). And while that scale could be seen as evil in itself -- they’re going for genocide -- so far the show hasn’t been pointing that out. Maybe it will? But it would’ve been better to set it up sooner.

Finally, bringing the Alpha vamp back, just to kill him...boo. Abrupt end to an awesome villain. And yet another character of color biting the dust, oh SPN, why you gotta be so racist. Also partway through I had the thought that the BMOL had set up all of this to get the Alpha vamp out and kill him, but no, they weren’t that clever. I’d much prefer competent evil to incompetent...whatever the BMOL are meant to be.

(And what happened to the Colt anyway? Did Sam really leave it in the BMOL’s hands?)

Well, we’ll see where it’s going. I do hope Sam doesn’t lie to Dean about working for the BMOL. And I hope that eventually the show will acknowledge the BMOL’s sins and have the Winchesters (all three) react with the appropriate disapproval. Until then, just hope there’s something good between the boys in the next ep. Davy Perez’s last two eps were great; please don’t let us down!)