“I’m on a different path now…This, you must face alone. I love you, my sons.”

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@deansamdean
“I’m on a different path now…This, you must face alone. I love you, my sons.”
Thor Odinson
I know what you’re thinking: “Oh no, Thor’s in a cage. What happened?” Well, it’s a long story…
— All Thor: Ragnarok aesthetics
“Hey, hey! We know each other! He’s a friend from work! Where have you been? Everybody thought you were dead! So much has happened since I last saw you. I lost my hammer like, yesterday so that’s still pretty fresh. Loki, he’s alive! Can you believe it? He’s up there. Hey Loki! Look who it is!”
Bickering like an old married couple about their respective shirtless scenes. 👍
(ChiCon 2017)
on fanfic & emotional continuity
Writing and reading fanfic is a masterclass in characterisation.
Consider: in order to successfully write two different “versions” of the same character - let alone ten, or fifty, or a hundred - you have to make an informed judgement about their core personality traits, distinguishing between the results of nature and nurture, and decide how best to replicate those conditions in a new narrative context. The character you produce has to be recognisably congruent with the canonical version, yet distinct enough to fit within a different - perhaps wildly so - story. And you physically can’t accomplish this if the character in question is poorly understood, or viewed as a stereotype, or one-dimensional. Yes, you can still produce the fic, but chances are, if your interest in or knowledge of the character(s) is that shallow, you’re not going to bother in the first place.
Because ficwriters care about nuance, and they especially care about continuity - not just literal continuity, in the sense of corroborating established facts, but the far more important (and yet more frequently neglected) emotional continuity. Too often in film and TV canons in particular, emotional continuity is mistakenly viewed as a synonym for static characterisation, and therefore held anathema: if the character(s) don’t change, then where’s the story? But emotional continuity isn’t anti-change; it’s pro-context. It means showing how the character gets from Point A to Point B as an actual journey, not just dumping them in a new location and yelling Because Reasons! while moving on to the next development. Emotional continuity requires a close reading, not just of the letter of the canon, but its spirit - the beats between the dialogue; the implications never overtly stated, but which must logically occur off-screen. As such, emotional continuity is often the first casualty of canonical forward momentum: when each new TV season demands the creation of a new challenge for the protagonists, regardless of where and how we left them last, then dealing with the consequences of what’s already happened is automatically put on the backburner.
Fanfic does not do this.
Fanfic embraces the gaps in the narrative, the gracenotes in characterisation that the original story glosses, forgets or simply doesn’t find time for. That’s not all it does, of course, but in the context of learning how to write characters, it’s vital, because it teaches ficwriters - and fic readers - the difference between rich and cardboard characters. A rich character is one whose original incarnation is detailed enough that, in order to put them in fanfic, the writer has to consider which elements of their personality are integral to their existence, which clash irreparably with the new setting, and which can be modified to fit, to say nothing of how this adapted version works with other similarly adapted characters. A cardboard character, by contrast, boasts so few original or distinct attributes that the ficwriter has to invent them almost out of whole cloth. Note, please, that attributes are not necessarily synonymous with details in this context: we might know a character’s favourite song and their number of siblings, but if this information gives us no actual insight into them as a person, then it’s only window-dressing. By the same token, we might know very few concrete facts about a character, but still have an incredibly well-developed sense of their personhood on the basis of their actions.
The fact that ficwriters en masse - or even the same ficwriter in different AUs - can produce multiple contradictory yet still fundamentally believable incarnations of the same person is a testament to their understanding of characterisation, emotional continuity and narrative.
So I was reading this rumination on fanfic and I was thinking about something @involuntaryorange once talked to me about, about fanfic being its own genre, and something about this way of thinking really rocked my world? Because for a long time I have thought like a lawyer, and I have defined fanfiction as “fiction using characters that originated elsewhere,” or something like that. And now I feel like…fanfiction has nothing to do with using other people’s characters, it’s just a character-driven *genre* that is so character-driven that it can be more effective to use other people’s characters because then we can really get the impact of the storyteller’s message but I feel like it could also be not using other people’s characters, just a more character-driven story. Like, I feel like my original stuff–the novellas I have up on AO3, the draft I just finished–are probably really fanfiction, even though they’re original, because they’re hitting fanfic beats. And my frustration with getting original stuff published has been, all along, that I’m calling it a genre it really isn’t.
And this is why many people who discover fic stop reading other stuff. Once you find the genre you prefer, you tend to read a lot in that genre. Some people love mysteries, some people love high-fantasy. Saying you love “fic” really means you love this character-driven genre.
So when I hear people be dismissive of fic I used to think, Are they just not reading the good fic? Maybe I need to put the good fic in front of them? But I think it turns out that fanfiction is a genre that is so entirely character-focused that it actually feels weird and different, because most of our fiction is not that character-focused.
It turns out, when I think about it, I am simply a character-based consumer of pop culture. I will read and watch almost anything but the stuff that’s going to stick with me is because I fall for a particular character. This is why once a show falters and disagrees with my view of the character, I can’t just, like, push past it, because the show *was* the character for me.
Right now my big thing is the Juno Steel stories, and I know that they’re doing all this genre stuff and they have mysteries and there’s sci-fi and meanwhile I’m just like, “Okay, whatever, I don’t care about that, JUNO STEEL IS THE BEST AND I WANT TO JUST ROLL AROUND IN HIS SARCASTIC, HILARIOUS, EMOTIONALLY PINING HEAD.” That is the fanfiction-genre fan in me coming out. Someone looking for sci-fi might not care about that, but I’m the type of consumer (and I think most fic-people are) who will spend a week focusing on what one throwaway line might reveal about a character’s state of mind. That’s why so many fics *focus* on those one throwaway lines. That’s what we’re thinking about.
And this is what makes coffee shop AUs so amazing. Like, you take some characters and you stick them in a coffee shop. That’s it. And yet I love every single one of them. Because the focus is entirely on the characters. There is no plot. The plot is they get coffee every day and fall in love. That’s the entire plot. And that’s the perfect fanfic plot. Fanfic plots are almost always like that. Almost always references to other things that clue you in to where the story is going. Think of “friends to lovers” or “enemies to lovers” or “fake relationship,” and you’re like, “Yes. I love those. Give me those,” and you know it’s going to be the same plot, but that’s okay, you’re not reading for the plot. It’s like that Tumblr post that goes around that’s like, “Me starting a fake relationship fic: Ooooh, do you think they’ll fall in love for real????” But you’re not reading for the suspense. Fic frees you up from having to spend effort thinking about the plot. Fic gives your brain space to focus entirely on the characters. And, especially in an age of plot-twist-heavy pop culture, that almost feels like a luxury. “Come in. Spend a little time in this character’s head. SPEND HOURS OF YOUR LIFE READING SO MANY STORIES ABOUT THIS CHARACTER’S HEAD. Until you know them like a friend. Until you know them so well that you miss them when you’re not hanging out with them.”
When that is your story, when the characters become like your friends, it makes sense that you’re freed from plot. It’s like how many people don’t really have a “plot” to hanging out with their friends. There’s this huge obsession with plot, but lives don’t have plots. Lives just happen. We try to shape them into plots later, but that’s just this organizational fiction we’re imposing. Plot doesn’t have to be the raison d’etre of all story-telling, and fic reminds us of that.
Idk, this was a lot of random rambling but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.
“fanfiction has nothing to do with using other people’s characters, it’s just a character-driven *genre* that is so character-driven that it can be more effective to use other people’s characters”
yes!!!! I feel like I knew this on some level but I’ve never explicitly thought about it that way. this feels right, yep. Mainstream fiction often seems very dry to me and I think this is why - it tends to skip right over stuff that would be a huge plot arc in a fanfic, if not an entire fanfic in itself. And I’m like, “hey, wait, go back to that. Why are you skipping that? Where’s the story?” But now I think maybe people who don’t like fanfiction are going like, “why is there an entire fanfic about something that could have happened offscreen? Is anything interesting ever going to happen here? Where’s the story?”
Yes! Exactly! This!!!
This crystallized for me when I taught my first class of fanfiction to non-fic-readers and they just kept being like, “But nothing happens. What’s the plot?” and I was so confused, like, “What are you talking about? They fall in love. That’s the plot.” But we were, I think, talking past each other. They kept waiting for some big moment to happen, but for me the point was that the little moments were the big moments.
I read all these above thoughts and responses about the nature of fan fiction as well as why it is a “character-driven genre” and I can’t agree more. And regarding the point that the actual plots in a fanfic don’t matter, I think people nowadays have seen every possible plot twist or every possible element of surprise in fiction, movies, or any form of story telling that most things in a story become somewhat predictable. Everyone knows what qualifies as say, an exposition, or a plot twist, or a climax and an anti-climax. There can be anything too surprising in a story in terms of plot to be honest. And even when there is, once the initial excitement about a new twist in the story (yes! This is brilliant!) is gone, we as readers or consumers of these stories no longer feel as strong towards that particular twist since the surprise is out. Even when you reread it, or try to relive it, you already know what’s gonna happen.
But for fans or to be more us as fanfic readers/ writers, the close reading of a character or characters is almost endless. We put them in all these predictable, almost mundane plot structure and try to evaluate all angles of a character under these scenarios. Of course we know they’re gonna eventually fall in love and have babies or lead up to a whatever happy ending or angsty ending installed for them. But how are the characters going to interact, what they are going to say to one another, or how would they react to the cheesiest love confession is the thing that keep the fanfic alive. And it is exactly what gets us so drawn into reading and writing fanfics. We get to examine and understand and explore what goes through in a relatable or favorable character’s head and it’s the emotions that are evoked from it that’s fascinating and it fills the void of lines that are maybe originally unsaid, or unfinished. It in turn opens up this universe where we can elaborate and continue that *emotional continuity*.
Dean Winchester | 12x18 The Memory Remains
Hot Damn
Jason Momoa for The Hollywood Reporter
Jensen Ackles | SeaCon 2017 [credits: Monica D Photography | x | x ]
i rewatched this jaxcon moment for my previous post and so there’s jared’s comforting pat to tell this very worried jensen he’s okay
and then
Jensen’s nod when the fan screams she loves jared like….. all you gotta do to make jensen happy is to support jared im…
“In a world of f l y i n g m e n and monsters, this is the only way to protect our country.”
A testimony of love
Sam is twelve and looks at his brother with nothing short of hero worship. Dean’s tall and handsome; every teenage-girl’s dream. Light on his feet in a way that Sam will never be, his own legs, too long and lanky that won’t allow him to be anything but clumsy. Hands that he’s watched take apart and reassemble a gun in mere seconds, his movements quick and efficient. Cocky grin and give-em-hell attitude that demands everyone’s attention; he’s everything that Sam wishes he could be.
Sam is fourteen and still looks at his brother like he hangs the moon. Dean’s now officially an adult and filled out in ways Sam’s pretty sure he shouldn’t be noticing. Broad shoulders that make all his favorites shirts too tight so that they cling to the muscles of his back. Eyes so clover-green that when their attention is on him he wishes he could stop time and live in that moment forever. Those same hands carding through his hair in the middle of the night after a bad nightmare, climbing into his bed and pulling him close even though their father says they’re too old for it now.
Sam is sixteen and has finally come to terms with the fact that he’s in love with his brother and he doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge or himself half the time. Dean’s seemingly more beautiful everyday, so much so, that sometimes it hurts to look at him. To always have him so close and yet never close enough. That voice like liquid heat that pools inside Sam’s belly every time his brother whispers in his ear or calls him ‘Sammy’.
Sam is eighteen and afraid to reveal the sick truth of his heart, how he aches for things that he should never, ever want. So tangled up inside and he fears Dean will discover his secret, wonders how he’s gotten away with it for this long. It’s enough to keep him awake at night, staring at his brother’s sleeping figure and wondering what it would be like to kiss those soft, pink lips, to taste the inside of his mouth… It’s no surprise he ends up leaving for California, needing to put as much space between them as possible before this hunger ruins the only good thing he has.
Sam is twenty two when his brother breaks into his apartment and wrestles him to the ground. Solid weight of muscle on top of him, breath hot and heavy as it washes across his face in the dark room and it all comes rushing back. Everything he tried so desperately to bury, bubbling forth with a new and ravenous desire. “Dad’s on a hunting trip and hasn’t been home in a few days” and just like that he’s back in the game, in the passenger seat at Dean’s side; still strung out on that hundred watt smile but he’s desperate to make this work.
Sam’s twenty three when he starts having psychic visions and he’s scared even if he’ll never admit it. His brother never leaves his side though, promises that nothing bad will ever happen to him as long as he’s around and he doesn’t know what the hell he did to deserve Dean but it’s what fuels his faith and gives him reason to keep fighting.
Before he knows it he’s twenty six and jumping into the cage with the devil. Saving the world and what he hopes is Dean’s chance at a normal life. A life with someone who can make him truly happy and fill all those spaces in his heart in a way that Sam knows he’s never meant to.
He’s twenty nine and in an abandoned church, got the king of hell tied to a chair, and ready to, once again, sacrifice himself so he can shut the gates of hell but Dean won’t let him, begs him to stop. “There’s nothing, past or present, that I would put in front of you” and Sam has to bite back the tears that threaten to break free and he can’t help but feel unworthy of his brother’s unwavering devotion.
Then he’s thirty one and ready to damn the whole world to rid his brother of the mark of Cain that’s branded onto his skin, slowly poisoning and changing his brother into something he doesn’t recognize but he won’t stop till he has him back. He’s fought way to hard to keep him just to lose him like this.
He turns 32 and the darkness is released onto the world and they’re caught in a war between God and his sister but it’s not the first time that heaven rains down it’s issues on them. Caught once again in the middle of an epic battle that verges on ripping the world apart and it’s just another day in the life of the Winchester’s.
Sam is 33 and it’s just him and his brother in a dusty library of an old bunker that they now call home talking about how they can’t believe that they’ve made it this far. They’ve both died more times than they care to count, fate, it seems, hell-bent on breaking them apart but not for long, because they somehow always find their way back to each other.
They’re sharing a drink, allowing the amber liquid to warm it’s way through their systems when Dean leans close and places a gentle but all- encompassing kiss to his trembling lips, whispers all the things Sam’s so desperately wanted but never thought he would ever hear. And It’s in that moment that he realizes that Dean has been carrying the same twisted up love in his heart, it’s roots planted just as deep.
“There’s a hushed "Love you Sammy,” that leaves his brother’s lips and it’s so quiet he barely hears it. It’s him who leans in this time and kisses his brother with a hunger that has Dean opening his mouth, and eagerly inviting him in. He pulls away after a minute and rests his forehead against Dean’s and whispers just as softly,…
“Love you too Dee.”
Hannibal Lecter + tags
“They originally brought me for the role of Sam, and I knew David Nutter really well, I’ve worked on testing for a number of pilots before that, so I felt very comfortable with him and with his recommendation. He gave me a spiel about the script and Sam and I read the script and I thought, [in slightly dreamy voice] ‘What about Dean? I like Dean. He’s funny.’”
Dean knew this was going to happen. From the moment Sam told him that he had visions of the cage, he knew he would wake up to this.
They were on a case, and he has driven such a long way that he could not be bothered to look for a motel in this small town. Thus the conclusion was that they would just spend the night huddled under the roof of the Impala.
Dean wanted to blame the stiff car seat of the Impala for causing Sam’s nightmare, as he hated it when Sam had a nightmare, especially when this was certainly one about the cage.
He jerked awake in the middle of night and he knew what woke him at once.
“No..” It was hardly audible. “Stop.. Please…” But it was clear enough within the small confinement of the Impala. Sam was huddled in his jacket at the back seat, apparently suffering from a nightmare.
Dean did not know if he should be relieved or not. Well, he should, ‘coz at least Sam was not in any kind of real danger.
He was more than used to being woken up in the middle of the night. Sam has alway been a sensitive kid since he was young. When he was really, really young, a slight glimpse of a horror movie would give him nightmares already. And as they grew, the things they did on a daily basis had a much bigger impact on Sam.
Dean got up and leant half of his body over to the back seat. He shook Sam gently, “Hey, hey Sam. Wake up.”
It did not work. Sam gripped onto his jacket even tighter. “Stop.. Stop–” Dean shook Sam’s shoulder harder. “I said stop–No-No–!”
When Sam’s fist came flying towards him, Dean almost forgot to dodge. But he put his forearm up and it blocked the direct impact of it. Then he took advantage and held Sam by his shoulders.
“Sam!” He held him tightly, “Sam, it’s me. It’s just me.” He moves his hand to Sam’s chest gingerly, “Breathe, okay?”
Sam’s eyes were glassy. Whatever was in his dream just now was not anything pretty for sure. “D-Dean?”
“Yeah,” Dean panted out softly, “Yeah, it’s me. You, me, Impala, a case. Remember?”
Sam’s Adam’s apple moved up and down slowly as he swallowed. It took Sam a while, but to Dean’s relief, Sam finally nodded, “Yes.. Yes I remember.”
“Good.” Dean shifted and got past the front seat, squeezing himself into the back seat with Sam.
Sam was more than confused, “Dean?”
“Shush.” Dean tried to arrange his legs into a position that would not cause him cramps, at least not in a short while, and he wrapped his arms around Sam. “Want to talk about it?”
Sam looked down, “It was just the usual.” He pressed his face to Dean’s chest, feeling more than glad that Dean’s warmth was right by his cheek.
“Look. I swear I’m not gonna laugh out loud if it was a clown dream.” Dean teased, hoping it would free Sam from the tension, and it did.
“Shut up. It wasn’t about clowns.” Dean could spot half a smile on Sam’s face.
“Then what was it?” He asked softly, although he already kind of guessed it, “It would be better if you talked about it.”
“You know that’s the worst advice coming from you.” Sam kept his face buried in Dean’s chest.
Dean chuckled slightly, “Well, it’s better than not trying.” He reached up and tangled his fingers with Sam’s soft hair. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about–”
“The cage.” Sam’s muffled voice radiated from Dean’s chest. “I dreamt about Lucifer.”
Dean nodded. He started massaging Sam’s scalp ever so gently. He did not interrupt or ask more questions. He gave Sam his space so he could let it out in his own pace.
“What he did to me in there..” Sam gripped onto Dean, “I’ve never seen it so clearly..”
Dean winced, as if it was himself who has experienced that. But to be honest, he actually felt like he has been through that as well.
“It was just a dream, Sammy.” Dean pressed his lips to Sam’s forehead, which was still damp from the cold sweat caused by the nightmare.
“Was it?” The questions came out more like a whimper.
“Yeah.” Dean said sternly. He knew he had to, “Of course it was a dream. You’re back in reality again, judging from how tiny this back seat is for us.”
That made Sam break out a soft laugh, “Yeah, it’s very small even just for me.”
“So it was a dream. It wasn’t real.” Dean repeated it again, “You’re safe, with me.”
Sam looked up and Dean met with his gaze, “You’re safe, baby boy. I promise you are.”
Sam never knew why he believed Dean so much since he was a kid. Maybe it was because Dean was the only who tried his very best to there for him. Maybe it was because Dean took care of him and practically raised him. There could be a million reasons and he could never pinpoint which one it was that made Dean his rock. Most of the time, especially during times like this, he liked to think all of them contributed to it. As when you came to think of it, what kind of big brother would still comfort his younger brother from a nightmare until this day?
Sam must have fallen into silence a little too long. He could hear the concern in Dean’s voice when he finally heard him calling his name.
“Sam? Sammy..?” Dean looked at Sam, his brows creased into his typically worried expression, “Sam, what is it?”
Sam shook his head, “Nothing.” When Dean gave him a doubtful look, he reassured him, “Really. I’m good, Dean.”
He placed his hand over Dean’s chest, “I’m feeling a lot better than I was fifteen minutes ago.”
Dean’s expression softened slightly, “Alright.” He fixed the jacket Sam used as a blanket and wrapped him in it properly again, “Try to get some more sleep then. We will hit the road early in the morning.”
“You’re gonna get cramps in the morning if you sleep here with me, Dean.” Sam pointed out, but he did not intend to force Dean back to the front seat.
Dean shrugged, “If I do, I will deal with that in the morning.” He hugged Sam tight and pressed him to his chest again, “No need to worry about me, Sammy.”
The warmth radiating off from Dean made Sam feel safe. It always had. He nodded and closed his eyes, sighing in content, “Goodnight, De.”
Dean smiled and tugged his chin on Sam’s head, “Goodnight, Sammy. Sweet dreams.”