Wearing a shirt that says “i heart when media is good but contains flaws so that i can exercise my creative ability to understand what i dislike about something i like”
I think it's a sign of good media when you have to reread or rewatch it to get the full experience. First time is for getting your brain blasted by the story and being confused second time is for knowing who's who and what's what and willingly getting your brain blasted again.
I don't know how to explain it coherently but Dean is an empathetic person who uses a pragmatic mask to try and convince himself that he is unaffected so he doesn't have a breakdown whereas Sam is a pragmatic person who uses an empathetic mask to force himself to be affected because he could easily just move on if needed and they're both trauma responses and it's also the reason why they fundamentally misunderstand each other all the time
It’s like. Dean is shot through the male gaze like a woman and objectified like a woman and his ultimate duty in the show is to care for the male main character like a woman but he IS a man and it’s a key part of his characterisation that he is a man and you can’t separate him from either of those things without fundamentally changing his character.
Sam was still very clearly intended to be the self-insert proxy guy, but they couldn’t have a show that was just entirely about one character driving around fighting monsters of the week because if the audience disliked Sam then there would be literally nothing else to entice them to stick around, better to hedge their bets by having at least one other regular character on the cast, but that character couldn’t be a woman because they hated women, and it couldn’t be a man who might compete with Sam for Main Character Status because Sam was the Chosen One, so they figured they’d put in a 2D macho guy so Sam could look Cultured and Smart next to him, but then they also made that 2D macho guy into the person who basically raised Sam from the age of 4 thanks to their absentee obsessive hunter dad, and then Jensen Ackles read the script and was like ‘yeah this seems like a much more interesting character tbh can I play him?’, and the writers were like ‘well okay I guess we’ll just find someone taller to play Sam and that’ll even things out’, except not really because Dean WAS more interesting and all the attempts to make him less interesting just backfired because flawed and dynamic characters are always more interesting to audiences than the writers’ generic self-inserts, so one the one hand it was definitely the right call to not put all the eggs into the Sam basket because even though Sam wasn’t unpopular he wasn’t a breakout sensation either, but Dean was, but uh oh now Dean is infringing upon Sam’s Main Character status and what’s more the audience is shipping Sam with him because literally everyone else on this show dies after like five minutes, who could have foreseen this possible consequence of making a show entirely about two hot 20-somethings with a deep but conflicted emotional bond, quick throw women at them, shit that’s not working and also we keep killing the women or leaving them behind so it’s double not working, oh wait now there are people shipping Dean with the random angel we didn’t even intend to put in the story, well at least that means fewer people are shipping him with Sam our Main Character Self Insert Guy in a super high profile and controversial incest ship, fine we’ll take it keep the angel around and appease the gross fans while still keeping them hooked for ratings, we’ll write him out once this all simmers down and - wait what’s happening? why... why is this the main thing people on the internet associate with our show now...?!
Cameron Maržena had been watching the human known as Nikolas Mejias for the last three weeks. Though his girlfriend was always with him, it was Nik who Cameron couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of. Against the mundanity of the mass of humans that ebbed and flowed through the club, Nik was a shining star that caught the eye. His unwavering spirit had certainly caught the four hundred and sixty-three year old vampire's attention and he'd been unable to resist following him ever since.
Cameron watched from the high office of his club while the two humans danced and drank themselves stupid. He knew he wasn't the only one. There were some humans whose mere humanity lured in immortals, like moths to a flame; humans who lived so brightly, so fiercely that the undead wanted to catch it in a jar and hold onto it forever.
By nature vampires could not hold onto such a delicate flame without threat of snuffing it out permanently. Not when one careless action easily ended everything, quick as a fang slid into a vein. This lesson had been drilled into Cameron by his maker centuries ago.
That didn't stop him, however, from watching. With Darius slumbering for at least four more decades, Cameron was alone. He spent his time working but these last few weeks he had been distracted by Nik. He was constantly with his woman, those brown hands touching her skin, her hips, her hair. They orbited each other, but did not hesitate to shine for anyone else. Their smiles turned outwards as often as they did in.
The humans were foolish, no matter how much light they had. To be in this place full of predators so carelessly at night. They were both in leather jackets, their hair teased with hairspray and Kohl lined their brown eyes. They drew attention without effort, and seemed not to notice when not all of it was benevolent.
They weren't the only humans in the club, but Nik at the very least was the only one that Cameron cared about. Well. Perhaps 'cared' was too strong a word for Cameron's interest. However, it would be a waste of such a vibrant life if he were to die. Hopefully the human played his cards right and did not attract too many predators his way. Hopefully he made it to sunrise.
Cameron turned around and went back to his desk where he spent the rest of the night doing paperwork. The music was muffled enough he could focus and no one came to bother him. He took a drink from the tea cup on his desk. Good. It was still warm and pleasant. He had slit a wrist from a clubber and drained it into the cup half an hour ago.
It was an hour before sunrise when the club started to clear out. Cameron finished up his work for the night and cleaned up before heading downstairs. There were a few stragglers but overall the place was empty. The faint smell of blood still clung to the air and the dark curtains. Employees skillfully cleared out any bodies that had been drained that evening.
Cameron walked outside, the crisp autumn air hitting his skin. The cooling temperatures still made his bones ache. If he had thought of it, he would have brought his cane with him. Next time, then.
The sidewalks were empty aside from a few people who seemed to be on their way home. They all paid him no mind, just as he preferred. No need to stick out in the minds of mortals when life went so much smoother as a pale shadow on the fringes.
The thick scent of blood caught his attention as he passed the entrance to a nearby alley. His fangs cut against his bottom lip as the smell teased him forward. He found himself wandering down the alleyway to investigate. Even before he found two familiar bodies covered in blood at the very end he knew who he'd find.
Nik.
There was no one else, just the two of them. Light officially snuffed. And yet. Against Cameron's better judgment he found himself kneeling in front of Nik. That warm brown skin was splattered in blood, his and hers from the smell of it, and there were ragged puncture wounds on his tattooed neck.
There was a pulse, just barely one. Nik's dark lashes fluttered and he groaned. A spark, then? Blood pooled when Cameron ripped open his wrist. “Drink,” he ordered, pushing it against Nik's mouth. He would question his decision later.
Nik mumbled against his wrist, perhaps the name of the girl who laid dead next to them. But then he started to drink. Those dark brown eyes opened slowly and moved to Cameron's face.
For a moment time slowed down while Nik drank from him, it was just the two of them in this alleyway. When Cameron finally pulled away, Nik absently palmed at his healed throat. He blinked a few times, still staring at Cameron.
Inevitably his distant gaze landed on the dead woman beside them. That was enough to shock him into action. He scrambled towards her, long fingers going to her hair, her face, the bite marks on her neck. “Fix her.” Again those dark brown eyes snapped to his. Demanding, of all things.
“I cannot,” Cameron said, standing. He took out a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his hands and the dark cuff of his sleeve.
“What do you mean you can't!” Nik snapped. Despite the initial temper to his question, his voice wavered as he insisted, “Fix her.”
“She's already dead,” Cameron said. His blood would do her no good now, and Cameron wasn't one for empty gestures.
Nik pressed his forehead against hers. A shudder went through him, and then sobs shook him in earnest. Tears mixed with smeared eyeliner and blood. He held her face between his hands as if he could cup the soul already fled and keep it from slipping through his fingers. There was nothing Cameron could say to help the situation, so he said nothing.
“What good are you then?” Nik finally rasped. He visibly swallowed another sob and then ground out, “Why save me and not her?”
Again, Cameron offered no words. Nothing he could say would make any difference. He felt nothing when he glanced at the dead girl. It hadn't been her light he'd trailed over the last few weeks.
“Would you like me to take you somewhere?” Cameron finally asked. Immediately another thought hit him, a kindness he could offer, hollow though it was. “I could make you forget. If that would be easier.”
“Easier for you?” Nik asked. While his tone was accusing, the look he gave Cameron was lost. Adrift. Already fading.
“This does not matter to me. She does not matter to me,” Cameron said. “She matters to you. This would be easier for you.”
“Just go away,” Nik said. He brushed her hair from her face, smoothed it so it hid the punctures in her throat. “Go away and leave us alone.”
Perhaps that was best. The smell of blood was starting to get to him. His fangs ached and all the blood soaking Nik's skin was beginning to make Cameron dizzy with thirst. His eyes lingered on Nik's exposed throat for far too long.
Cameron inclined his head. “Very well,” he said, and then promptly turned on his heel. The smell of blood hunted him as he walked to his car.
It was a sleek thing, black with tinted windows, carefully made to prevent UV rays from penetrating inside. A sound investment for when he traveled.
He drove home in silence, his only thoughts on the human with blood that sang to him.
----
Cameron was vaguely surprised to see Nik again so soon. The very next night Cameron found the human in his club once more, long before the night reached its peak.
From high in his office, Cameron watched Nik dance around the club as if it was just another night. He wore eyeliner and glitter, he was fitted in a black leather jacket and white v-neck. He was the picture of feverish health. But- His movements were jittery and jerky. He was sweating more than anyone else.
Nik was now talking to a tall man, taking from him a small package and following him to one of the backrooms. Cameron argued with himself on whether or not he should follow. Nik was likely on his way to take even more drugs. Drugs, from a strange man in a club full of vampires while he still had vampire blood in his system.
Cameron closed his office behind him and followed Nik and the man back to the VIP room. He moved past vampires feeding, past dancing and sweating bodies. The music was so loud it practically made his brain rattle in his skull.
It took him longer than he cared for to get past all the people to get to the rooms. He didn't so much as glance at the bouncer in charge of the rooms before going through each room until he found what he was looking for.
It was the fourth guess before Cameron found the right room. The man with Nik was passed out cold, but he was still breathing. Cameron promptly ignored him.
He found Nik sprawled out on the floor, unconscious. There was blood streaked vomit beside him. Pain pinpricked behind Cameron's eyes when he leaned down in front of Nik. The stress of the last few days was going to trigger a cluster headache tomorrow, most definitely.
Cameron put his ear next to Nik's chest; he wasn't breathing. Cameron patted Nik's clammy face, he tried to do CPR. He tried to shove two fingers down Nik's throat to induce more vomiting, but it was too late.
Whatever was in the drugs Nik inhaled, it had killed him. Nik was dead. And he was dead with vampire blood in his system.
“Everyone wants to be friends with the prep school boys The ones who sport Valentino and Ralph and Ross The ones who eat caviar with smoked salmon every day Do you know that all they do is cry in the backseat of their limos You don’t know what you’re getting into If you can’t tell the difference between Boss and Gucci One’s for us, one’s for Florida rappers who die of overdose One’s for when he takes you out for dinner to surprise you with pearls One’s for when he’s bout to leave you for some girl he met on the street You don’t know what you’re getting into Everyone just waits to see them open up and cry Because they’re so reserved / the ideal guy, right? Because when he opens up you feel special Because he’s closed himself from everybody else You don’t know what you’re getting into Here’s a hint—if he’s confessing in his limo and not the back of a taxi If he’s confessing to a quiet glass of champagne instead of tea If he’s confessing in his suit instead of his pajamas and disheveled hair If he’s confessing to Mozart instead of the Offspring—he’s not confessing You don’t know what you’re getting into No one really likes smoked salmon; it tastes like the ocean No one really likes mussels, they taste like stretchy fish sand No one really likes Versace, the logo is just big enough to subtly brag about No one really likes opening up, we just like pretending we can be trusted You don’t know what you’re getting into The lifestyle of the rich and famous is not a lifestyle at all It is one where a prep school boy who hates his father Grows to become his father / it starts with one drink of Scotch And then suddenly he’s in the same suit, the same hair gel, the same watch He doesn’t know what he’s gotten into They say money can only last for three generations Because everyone is so afraid of becoming their parents Sure, it’s basically already gotten me into college and a job as a CEO But it’s also almost gotten me killed / nights standing on the edge of a roof Without me knowing what I’d gotten into TV has romanticized so much of boys tearing themselves open It’s not poetic, and just because he buys you that Bulgari necklace It does not mean that he is healing / it means he is going back to where he came from And I promise you it isn’t just prep school boys / it is the girls too Because in the end we never know what we get ourselves into Some nights all you can do is watch as the children cry And you have to hide in a closet because it’s the only place you can be broken Without having to be strong Some nights you’re grateful and some nights you just want to end it all But you can’t because didn’t know what you got yourself into Summary? Just find someone who will listen to Kendrick Lamar with you Or Enya, if that’s what you’re into / just make sure he’s not analyzing The way his parents taught him to for socials and Ivies Everyone wants to be friends with prep school boys I promise they are not what you think you are getting into”
— because a dysfunctional gossip girl relationship is really not the one you want
l.j. / 26.12.17
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