#instead you exist in this sort of purgatory where you live out your own worst fears and the worst ways you could have failed

[asmo-ds]

I've seen alot of headcanons about Simeon turning into a demon, but how would everyone react if Luke managed to turn himself into a demon 🤔 Like maybe he didn't amount up to Celestial Standards (I headcanon the Celestial realm is kinda weird due to the events of the anelic event) and then he made some type of minor violation and they kicked him out of heaven to avoid the possibility of him growing up to be undesirable in the Celestial Realm

When a Child Falls

Luke-centric ANGST & FLUFF

Warnings: Pain, falling from heaven, Luke hurting :(

Summary: After failing to live up to the standards of his superiors Luke is kicked out of the Celestial Realm and becomes a demon. Luckily for him the exchange program had given him so many new and old friends who wanted nothing but to help the poor child despite any bitter past they may have had with him

a/n: i was gonna do headcanons but then i was like what if i make a whole one shot about him falling and everyone helping him adjust to his new life and uh yea <3

Also this didn’t come out as angsty as I wanted it to but demon brothers comforting a fallen Luke >>>>>>>

He tugged on his own arm, begging for the elder angel to release him and give him a second chance, his once hopeful blue eyes filled with tears and terror. 

“Stop, I swear I just need more time, PLEASE!” Luke cried, punching the elder’s arm and attempting to pry his wrinkly hands from Luke’s small forearm. The elder yanked Luke’s arm harder, resulting in a distressed cry from the short blond.

Luke tried to steady his breathing as they approached the boundaries of the Celestial realm, where he was to be pushed off for his failure to earn his wings in a timely manner. The Celestial realm saw him as useless and decided they would be better off discarding a weak angel like himself.

“LET HIM GO, PLEASE! DON’T DO THIS!” Luke could hear Simeon’s breaking voice screaming at the elders who held him back from Luke to prevent any interference, “JUST LET ME SAY GOODBYE PLEASE,” he begged to which the elder finally agreed and the two embraced tightly. “Luke you listen to me, you get to the Devildom you go STRAIGHT to Lucifer, he helped his brothers and himself through his fall he can help you, please, trust him with at least getting you through the transition then you can hate them again or whatever you want, pl-”

“I get it, Simeon, I promise I won’t let you down,” Luke interrupted, tears falling from his eyes onto Simeon’s broad shoulders. 

“Times up. Luke come to the edge, stand here,” an elder guides him into position. 

Luke’s hearing starts ringing as his adrenaline kicks in, the fear of death and disappearing from existing overwhelming him. His breathing grew fast, and before he knew it, he felt a push and wind pounding against his skin as he fell, and fell, and fell, until he saw the Devildom soil and he tensed, preparing for the worst.

Instead of hitting the ground he hears a fwoosh and finds himself caught in strong arms.

“Luke! What happened, where is Simeon? A young angel like you shouldn’t be down here all al-” Lucifer starts questioning the angel, concerned to see the small boy falling from so high. He was interrupted by a cry of agony, Luke pushed away from Lucifer, doubling over and screaming as the pain began to set in.

Lucifer recognized the transition immediately and how badly it hurt his brothers, so he gently approached the young boy, who glared at him with teary pained eyes, and he murmured a spell, before darkness washed over Luke.

- 

His innocent blue eyes fluttered open, not recognizing his surroundings, he sat up quickly, wincing and hissing as his back was suddenly filled with unbearable pain. 

Oh that’s right, I fell. They pushed me and now…His eyes snap open, remembering the feeling of falling, but nothing that happened afterward.

“I have… to find… Lucifer..” Luke spoke to himself, taking short breaks between every few words to take a painful breath, feeling his ribcage expand and contract as his wheezing continued.

“I’ve already found you, Luke, you’re in one of the bedrooms of the Demon Lord’s Castle. Please lay back and take off your shirt, your back is bound to be in a lot of pain, this serum will help.” The blond flinches as Lucifer rises from a chair next to the bed where he laid. 

Luke raises his arms and let Lucifer take off the shirt before laying on his stomach.

He hears Lucifer’s breath catch in his throat as he stares in horror at Luke’s back, where wings were starting to form, dark and mangled with feathers tangled and in need of a cleaning.

So like that, Lucifer kept Luke safe and took care of him whilst the other brothers prepared a room at the House of Lamentation for him to stay.

-

“Luke, I’ve brought you some tea and cake,” Barbatos walks into the bedroom carrying some snacks and drinks for the injured boy.

“Thank you Barbatos, I missed your cooking,” Luke smiles slightly before taking a big bite of cake and groaning. “Like, I really missed it-”

“Yes, Barbatos makes splendid food, which is why I keep him around!” Diavolo winks, nudging Barbatos with his elbow a bit.

“Actually sir, you only keep me around because no other demon has been able to keep up with your antics-”

“ANYWAY, Luke your wings look like they’re growing in nicely, and so do your horns,” Diavolo walks over to examine Luke’s new form. “You’ll probably be in a lot of pain for at least a few more days, but if you want to get situated into your new home we can let you go and just check in on you everyday.”

“Uh… I don’t want to intrude at the House of Lamentation, if it’s going to be any sort of burden to them-”

“Nonsense, my brothers and I are glad to take care of you and take you in, you experienced the same fate as us, albeit for different reasons, but still, we know your pain and we want to guide you so please, Luke, let us help you,” Lucifer places a reassuring hand on Luke’s shoulder as he says this.

“...Okay, BUT no calling me a chihuahua- GOT IT?!” Luke pokes Lucifer’s chest aggressively and earns a hearty chuckle from him.

“I agree not to call you a dog anymore,” Lucifer laughs out, “though I cannot speak for my brothers.”

-

“I can’t believe the chihuahua of all people got kicked out…” Mammon says, still in shock that the angel who had been so determined to make people smile just a year before during the exchange program had somehow managed to get himself thrown out of heaven.

“I remember when I almost didn’t earn my wings in time,” Asmodeus shudders at the memories of being threatened with exile and constantly pushing himself way too hard, “I got so many wrinkles from the stress.”

“Luke makes good food, I’m glad he’s staying with us.” Beel’s mouth was watering as he and Mammon moved a dresser, finally finishing getting Luke’s new room in order.

“Oi, try to be sympathetic when he gets here Beel. He may be a little annoying kid but he’s going through what we went through,” Mammon scolded his younger brother, an uncomfortable silence taking over the room as each and every one of them remembers the pain they were in as their bodies morphed into those of demons.

“God is such an asshole…” Belphegor mutters, getting extremely angry the more he thinks about it.

Luke had done nothing wrong, Lilith had done nothing wrong, so why? Why would he keep getting rid of the most determined of his angels over such insignificant things?

Suddenly all their phones go off with a text from Lucifer saying he and the boy would be arriving soon. They all gathered in the entrance hall, waiting for Luke to arrive. The front door creaked open, all of the brothers standing up straighter and nervous as Lucifer stepped through the entrance with Luke just behind him. 

The brothers all gasped quietly in shock at the state of Luke. He was pale and thin and the look of complete and utter despair in his formerly innocent eyes filling the room with a depressing atmosphere.

“H-hey there Fido- I mean- Luke, how’re you feeling?” Mammon tries to start up a welcoming conversation, getting a nasty look from Lucifer, who Luke was clinging to for dear life.

“Luke! As soon as you’re feeling able to, what do you say we bake something together?” Beel smiles sweetly, most of them getting nothing but nervous looks from Luke in response to their questions.

“I’m just going to help him get settled in. Satan you’re in charge of everything else around the house while I take care of Luke and my own paperwork.” Lucifer guides Luke up the stairs.

Satan rolls his eyes but mutters a small “fine,” before the two head upstairs to the attic, where they’d set up the room to look just like the dorm he stayed in at Purgatory Hall.

“Oh wow, it feels like I’m back in the exchange program,” Luke chuckles a little, clearly faking any sort of joy.

“Luke,” Lucifer kneels down, “you are one of my brothers now, you have nothing to fear, and Simeon will be able to visit at some point-” His attempt to ease Luke’s worries is interrupted by a loud sob.

“Don’t you get it?! Michael and Simeon will never look at me the same, ever again!” Luke wails, using his sleeves to wipe the tears that streamed down his face. “All I ever wanted was to impress them! To impress God and make humans happy and protect them! But now my natural instinct to hurt humans ruins any chance of me becoming the person I’d always thought I’d be!” Luke falls to his knees, sobbing and wheezing, his vision becoming blurry as a panic attack hits him like a truck. He can barely hear anything except for Lucifer calling out a name, and all he could make out was that it wasn’t his own name. A dark figure walks into the room and Luke hears muffled voices for a minute before he is suddenly extremely calm, his eyelids growing a bit heavy and he feels exhausted.

He then realizes someone was holding him and murmuring some sort of spell, causing him to panic once more, but this time he was perfectly aware and just jumped up ready to fight.

“Hey you dirty demon! Don’t use your dark magic on me or else I’ll-”

“Pfft hahaha,” Belphegor laughs hard, tears threatening to spill from his eyes, “you still look like a chihuahua when you get annoyed!” Belphie teases and Luke blushes, before running at Belphie and tackling him, leading to a wrestling match on the floor as Lucifer stands by and watches the two of them closely, to ensure nobody got hurt under his watch. 

-

Dinner was the worst, to be honest. Luke had asked Lucifer if he could cook to say thanks for taking him in, but now he sat awkwardly and all of the brothers remained quiet, watching his every move and watching him like he was an injured little puppy.

“I-is the food not good?” Luke questions looking around nervously.

“AH- no its great Fido- LUKE, ah jeez I’m getting a headache this is so hard to adjust to,” Mammon slams his head on the table, earning a glare from Asmo and Satan who he sat between.

“Anyways, I know you’ve been to the Devildom before and don’t really need a tour BUT you’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg, there are so many more places to go!” Asmo smiles widely at Luke, “So let’s go together soon, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Ooooh Luke, you have to tell me what Celestial Realm video games are like, GAH I wish we had waited to start a war until after the invention of video games. Anyway I got a new one so I can show you a Devildom game and-”

“Shut yer trap Levi,” Mammon leans over the table to attempt to cover Levi’s mouth.

“But let the GREAT Mammon show ya all the best spots in town~”

“NO-no do not take the child Gambling, Mammon,” Asmo smacks him.

“Asmo for all we know you’re gonna scar him and take him to a strip club,” Belphegor smirks, knowing he just started a war.

“I WOULD NEVER, COME HERE YOU BRAT,” both of them in demon forms chasing each other around the house and screaming.

Suddenly everyone hears a child’s laughter and looks at the blond who had barely even smiled since arriving.

“We can try to do everything you guys want to show me,” Luke smiles. Everyone lets out a sigh of relief seeing that Luke was feeling more comfortable around them. “Um, question though… how do I go in and out of my… demon form?” 

“HAH that’s easy, just relax and let the GREAT Mammon teach ya!”

“Mammon, not yet. Luke, I will teach you, but we need to wait a bit longer or else the pain of transforming will be unbearable for you,” Lucifer looked down at the disappointed boy.

“Oh, ok.”

“Don’t look so gloomy Fid-LUKE JEEZ LOUISE- there's a lot the GREAT Mammon can teach ya in the mean time!” Mammon stands up with a cocky smile, hands on his hips. “Think of me as ya new master and you are my apprentice!”

“NO do not think of him like that he will make you do his dirty work,” Satan says, hitting Mammon in the stomach.

“Thank you,” Luke looks at Lucifer, “thank you for taking me in, I-I know we don’t have the best past and I was super rude towards demons during the exchange program but-but I’m trying to change for you guys! Thank you!” Luke bows his head, tears falling down his cheeks. The knowledge that he can never go back to the way he was bringing on more tears, but they didn’t mind. They’d been through the same process. So silently they all comforted him and welcomed him into their home with  open arms.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me luke #obey me angst #obey me angst hc #obey me angels #om luke #om! swd #om! luke #obey me angst oneshot #obey me fluff #obey me fluff hc #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me oneshot #obey me imagines #sad obey me imagines #obey me imagine

[sheepibum]

{ Re:Zero Fic Masterlist }

I said I'd make one to keep track of all my projects for this fandom, since it honestly got me through most of last year's lockdown. I will be super slow in getting anything done, but this is probably one of the series I've found easy to write, so there's hope!

The list is pretty damn long so it's under the cut.

[Standalone]

⚜ please don’t call this ‘gardening’ [Complete]

Summary: Love rattles in his lungs.

A hanahaki AU, bc I love suffering.

⚜ this purgatory between hells [i have bits and pieces]

Summary: While Subaru builds ladders out of his own mortality, those who wish to save him are doomed to slide down the snakes born from their failures. (Or, the various failures of the Subaru faction.)

Written mostly for me, might count as attempt #1 at writing some sort of ‘reaction’ fic, except for the part that, instead of a theater we have an empty, blank space in which some characters relevant to the plot, rather than see what Subaru has been through, are allowed to have their memories from the if timelines and their goal is to keep Subaru from going off the rails like that, which, as you can probably guess from the number of existing ifs, doesn’t always work. It doesn't make much sense if I explain it, huh? :/

⚜ a little glow and dance [concept only]

Summary: Subaru dies, a minor spirit wakes up and falls in love too many times to count, Subaru returns to fulfill a promise; in that order.

To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,

Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—

T. S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”

Right, so I don’t want to spoil the whole thing, but basically after Subaru dies, a minor spirit is adopted by people who miss him because it reminds them of him.

⚜ To Sin, Perchance to Grieve [concept only]

Summary: In a familiar, unfamiliar dream, Subaru is confronted by those who made different choices. A madman, a despot, a coward, a pervert, a tool, an idiot—all of them wearing Subaru’s face.

Subaru has a ‘conversation’ with the if’s assortment of Subarus, who blame him (of course) for not becoming them.

⚜ The Days of Our End [concept only]

Summary: This is just an ending, not the worst, not the best, not even truly worth writing about. But it’s the ending Subaru achieved, after all his sacrifices; an ending he’s not sure he’s satisfied with, with the thrumming in his chest constantly beating ‘you should have done better’ against his ribs.

Well, at some point before finishing Arc 6, I got thinking about a ‘neutral ending’, as in videogames good/bad/true ending, this was one when you don’t complete all the missions you should and get stuck in a meh ending. Lots of consequences and weird ships bc I decided I wanted to have fun with Lugunica’s views on relationships.

⚜ The WC Insider (Issue #664 How To Live Love Laugh With Your New Archbishop!) [concept only]

Summary: Subaru is feeling a terrible cocktail of pity, second-hand embarrasment and morbid fascination, because he knew everyone who had made a conscious decision to join something like the Witch Cult had to be a bit touched in the head, but how are these people still alive? That title alone should be grounds for execution via firing squad.

Otto, accurately interpreting his silence as only a friend, nay, a best friend could, cringed in his chair.

“Please don’t mention the title, I tried bringing it up, but apparently is all they have left of their deceased leader so they don’t want to change it.”

“Wow, their leader was an asshole.”

Just pure crack. AU, most likely taking place right after Arc 3, where Subaru decides to infiltrate the Witch Cult, which somehow is a bigger mess than he is. Inspired by a discord conversation!

⚜ Kindertotenlieder [0/2]

Summary: Songs on the Death of Children, and the nightmares that haunt (as they should) those who do not know that the child in question should be mourned.

A second attempt at not writing a react fic, sort of. So, basically, a bunch of characters have nightmares about some of Subaru’s bad endings without any context whatsoever and don’t exactly take it well. That’s it, that’s the whole plot.

⚜ for those lost and those lesser [3/3] [Complete]

Summary: Crusch loses herself, Subaru loses Rem; briefly, they find each other.

In the end, everyone is aware of this: nobody keeps any of what he has, and life is only a borrowing of bones. Pablo Neruda, “October Fullness”

My Crusch/Subaru fic for the Re:Zero Gift Exchange. It's another sad introspection stream of thoughts, tho. :/ At least it was fun to try to write Crusch.

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[Multichapter Fic]

🌠⚡ Start, From Minus [3/5]

Summary: Freshly isekai’d Subaru runs into a master swordman who saves him, and gets involved in the Royal Selection of Lugunica in order to help his employer. All of that sounds the same, save for the fact that everything is different.

Or: six months before his supposed otherworldly adventure should have begun, Subaru ends up being summoned to the Vollachia Empire, meets a Divine General and starts hacking away at the plot.

This fic came to me in a vision.

No, but really. I had just finished reading the if stories, with Wrath being my favorite by far, when I had the fortune of stumbling upon a comic with a small AU ft. Subaru and Cecilius (thanks, pixiv); I, of course, have no idea what the comic was about bc I can’t read Japanese kanji, but it made an Impression on me and next thing I knew I had devoted a few hours every day for a week in a draft that was the most complete draft I have ever put to paper; for reference, my ‘drafts’ tend to look like this:

While the draft I wrote down for this thing looks like this:

I need to revise and edit the whole thing, but I have a good 18k words written already, so it’s definitely happening at some point. Also, no wonder I have such a hard time cleaning up my drafts, huh? Ugh.

update: I have finished posting the chapters that I had in my draft, so updates will be very slow, unless I get another vision or something, idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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[Series]

🌺 flowers for you

💐 for you to be spring [10/10] [Complete]

Summary: Soul marks appear in pairs and each pair blooms only once; these are the things Subaru learns: an important person, an important event, an once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing. As if Subaru should be so lucky.

A soulmate AU, bc it's one of my weaknesses. Also, flowers as soul marks bc flowers and flower language are two other weaknesses I have. The last chapter should be up in a couple of hours or so.

🍁 I’ll dig a grave for fall [7/7; in hiatus until we get more Ifs]

Summary: These bouquets of poisonous flowers bloom whether he wants it or not because such is the nature of the world he has been summoned to—it is only fair that Subaru answers in kind.

Soulmate AU, but for the If stories. It should be fun, but like in the masochistic sense. But this is a re:zero fic, so it's pretty much expected.

I have tentative titles for at least another 3 ifs (envy, vainglory and melancholy, if we ever get them), and titles for the next two installments of the series for Arc 5-6 and Arc 7 and beyond (if we ever get them animated).

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🍒 the minor sin of indulgence

🌙 the difference between starlight and moonshine [0/5]

Summary: The shenanigans of Natsuki Subaru and friends when they’re not busy fighting for their (but mostly his) lives. (Or: a collection of self-indulgent minifics using the overused tropes and AUs I should despise, but am actually weak to. )

Well, this one’s exactly what it says on the tin. My parody ABO fic is going to be here.

🎭 I’ll find you believing I’ll be found [4/10]

Summary: These may be different worlds, but they still manage to find each other, for better or worse.

Crossover AUs, in which I shove the Re:Zero cast into the world of some other series and watch them struggle with it, so far with terrible results, but at least one of these AUs will be sort of happier, I promise.

🌟 just a little bit of blood in your hands [0/5]

Summary: A medley of heroes and villains and everything in between with familiar faces, where anyone can wear a mask whether it suits them or not, and not everyone manages to be on the right side of anything for long.

Heroes & Villains Aus, mostly with superpowers, Subaru-centric and Reinhard-centric because I say so. At least one is heavily inspired by the Tiger & Bunny’s brand of heroics.

👑 Coins in a Wishing Well [3/5]

Summary: It’s common knowledge by now that stories repeated a thousand times are like an invasive species; they can dig their roots where you least expect it and wrap their vines around whichever actors they fancy to be retold.

Fantasy AUs! From ghosts to gods to fairy tale retellings, and probably my favorite stories so far. A couple of these are already half-written.

update: finally posted what is my favorite chapter so far! It's a Beaty and the Beast retelling! I worked very hard on it!!

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💟 the shameless raisuba major sin of decadence

Right, so this 'series' is just to have somewhere to dump my raisuba fics, no-plot-just-feels raisuba fics, mostly AU raisuba fics. Low effort/high shipping needs fics written by me for me about my rarepair of choice for this fandom :)

💗 To Have and To Hoard [i dunno, i have exactly one scene and a half and it feels like it’s half done]

Summary: So maybe falling in bed with his overpowered knight friend wasn’t the best idea Subaru had ever had, but he really couldn’t think of a safer place to hide for a little while before he died horribly again. Of course, in true Subaru fashion, Subaru goes on to not die like a champ after that.

This is the first bad plotbunny I had for this ship and now I must write it. Please expect it to be every bit as bad as it sounds. Sorry in advance.

💖 The Broom Waltz [i have the beginning and the end and no idea what to do in the middle]

Summary: A story in which Subaru is a loyal servant and Reinhard is looking for the next Queen, but with a twist (or: the Cinderella remix).

I mean, it is inspired by the fairy tale, but there’s technically no magic in this one so I couldn’t put it in my fantasy AUs.

💘 someone will call you love (this is how it begins) [Complete]

Summary: Reinhard gets lovingly smacked into next week with the holy frying pan of smitten (not to be confused with the holy frying pan of smiting).

Because once, while watching the end of the first arc for the hundredth time, I thought to myself: one day I am going to writea shippy retelling of this shoujo worthy second meeting, and that is a threat. And here we are.

I managed to finish this one for the 2022 Iridescent Pride event, but it unfortunately lost all the crack it was supposed to have in the process; it got kind of sad, sorry.

💝 with all the pieces of the broken-hearted [1/5]

Summary: Their hearts and the ways they both have broken are entirely different, but there’s something to be said for how they still manage to build something out of their wreckages.

This is the self-indulgent pit, the bottom of the barrel for my need to ship these two, low brain/low effort minifics with terrible plots and more ‘well I think it’d be funny’ than sense. Like, if someone was going to arrest me for fic crimes, it’d be because of this thing. One chapter is finished, so I will be uploading something soon-ish.

There, first chapter is up and it's all downhill from here.

#re:zero #the sheep writes #sheepibum does more than rant #raisuba #reinsuba #updated post

[elizabethrobertajones]

Hello there. I have a question (more like a thesis): What would have happened if Cas told the Truth anywhere between season 7 and 15? Do you think it would have had the same impact on Dean? Logically speaking Cas could have told him anytime.

Oh gosh, yes. I mean Dean’s reaction in season 15 is still the best it could have been really :P He was in the best place and most accepting of himself and he still had a BSOD for a moment and then Cas had to shove him away so he could go die... (Assuming you take the on screen boring presentation of what happened as canon and not throw in the reciprocation, tears, pull in for a kiss, etc that we know exists either in our hearts or on Jackles’ phone.)

I’ve been thinking about this and the parameters we’d have to apply if we were gonna get something like the show being self-healing back to its self as we know it but we were allowed a confession. Also the show has to be as punishing as ever. So these are my personal theses on each season... 

Season 7 the confession would have to be after Cas comes back, and everything in 7x17 that looked like Dean was jealous of Daphne and Meg textually was meant to be read that way in the set up for the confession. To make it the most painful obviously we still get Cas exactly as he was all through to the end of the season and he never really says anything too different but then right when they’re having the “cursed or not” discussion he’d bust out of nowhere that he supposes it is inevitable Dean would talk him into going on this dangerous mission to get Dick because obviously Cas loves him. And Dean, who is in a weirdly zen sort of place in the remaining minutes of season 7 after Bobby’s send off and final words that helped him go make up with Cas, is in a similarly season 15 oddly okay spot, mental health wise. At least. COMPARED TO ALL THE REST OF SEASON 7. But I still personally have always read it as a genuinely good place for him that could have endured much longer if not for *gestures everything that happened after stabbing Dick* and obviously making up with Cas was step one and a huge part of his process. 

(idk if you’ve noticed but 7x23 pretty much has no Sam and Dean interaction after Bobby’s send off, and their last good broments are really scarce; it feels sort of natural for abrupt calamity and no time for teary farewells in a season with a strong commentary on grief, which also hyperfocuses the attention on Dean n Cas there.)

So I think Dean would maybe be stunned but maybe quirk a sceptical smile like “He can’t mean it like that and anyway he’s currently coo-coo, this doesn’t mean anything hahaha oh Cas :)))” and then idk shake his head and move the story on and Cas just turns one longing look after him like “dammit that didn’t work out like planned” 

Anyway then the exact plot beats of 7x23 follow, exactly as seen on your screens, but we’re left going into season 8 and Carver era with Dean far far more messed up about Cas and it can force clarification in 8x02 in Purgatory where Cas is entirely adamant he meant what he meant and furious at Dean for being mad at him and Dean’s mad at Cas for all the season 8 reasons so they continue angsting at each other but Benny’s reaction shots are just 10x funnier. This is followed by Dean’s reciprocation of “I love you” instead of “I need you” in the crypt scene in 8x17 and from there honestly it’s been built up into canon in such a way that the emotional arc of the show has to go off the wheels and I can’t keep to the self-healing model to continue following the “real” plot and contain this much raw power.

Coincidentally, if the first confession is in season 8, it would be “what broke the connection” after a season 8 where nothing was different up until that point. Cas flaps off while Dean is still processing that the answer was “You. I love you.” and Dean is left yelling at the empty crypt like “What the hell, Cas?!” 

Then he’s as mad at him as he was in canon except instead of being borderline a really bad overreaction into his anger phase which we have to weather as miserable fans tethered to this ship who know sometimes Dean gets mad and yells at Cas for no reason, he’s reacting proportionately. It’s always seemed like 8x22 only makes sense if Dean is furious at Cas for confessing and fleeing except, obviously, in our “”real”” canon, it can only be like Cas confessed and Dean took it that way and also felt embarrassed how far he went with his own feelings only for Cas to run. 

This would make the bar scene with the cupids in 8x23 make a lot more sense too, and after they get the cupid bow Dean’s going to turn to Cas and give him a nervous smile, and then - Naomi flaps in like she does and distracts them away from reciprocation. 

I think this one could go long - maybe even season 13 Cas being dead and Dean being like “FUCK I never got a chance to work things out with him” and 13x06 onwards is where we get any actual work on the ship, because Carver era was so determined to be emotionally gruelling and unsatisfying and relentless from one issue to the next. And the confessions are so bound up specifically in the moments of miscommunication or failed attempts, cut off conversations etc that whether Destiel is canon or not, they’re never gonna get to talk it out under those conditions. Cas is only explicitly the grieving wife and jealous ex to Crowley’s smug take over of Dean’s affections rather than subtextually. 

The season 9 confession... I feel like we’d come perilously close to the Monkey Paw curse we once envisioned of Buckleming making it canon because they love jumping the gun on plot points and making them too obvious. So the end of 9x03, Cas is really blatantly angling to come in with a big “Hey I’m human can I live in the Bunker look at me I learned to do The Sex can we do it now” kind of vibe. All the enthusiasm he was giving to eating that burrito in the background while “Zeke” was trying to get him kicked out, but with lusting over Dean :P 

If we avoid that we can leap to Mr Bobo Berens and his first episode, and have this thing handled by a pro, as it’s already very much about Cas as a homeless queer man with a bad ex he still loves rolling into town where he’s just trying to make a new life and play straight - I mean human - for his own survival. I suspect the confrontation with Iphraim would make it really obvious that Cas didn’t just want to live as a human but had an eye for living as a human with Dean, and then he’d attempt a confession right before Dean would accidentally talk over, like, the L in “love” honestly, to tell him that sorry things do still stand that you can’t come back with me. Leaves Cas utterly devastated but Dean is none the wiser and he drives off and Cas pines piningly at the pine trees in his Gas n Sip. 

Again the end of season probably would force the real confession, since there’s a ready made moment in 9x22 where Hannah tries to force Cas to kill Dean and he gives it all up for one man. Cas can just lower that knife and be like, “No, I love him,” talking to his shoes and Hannah rather than meeting Dean’s eyes. Mark of Cain Dean is fuuuucked up at that point but we still get the moment where Dean carries Cas’s bag into the bunker and sits down with him and tries to care about his health and now also this confession. Sussing out what the heck is up with Cas, and maybe he looks like he’s playing it cool and is still so messed up but Cas is vulnerable, and finally Dean starts to reach across the library table for his hand, and it’s a moment where maybe things could have started to go better for them...... Cue Gadreel walking into the library, Dean going feral, blah blah demon!Dean, blah blah explicitly stated Drowley, blah blah muuuch healing and Cas giving Dean a wide berth for a lil while. Though, in this scenario, 10x22 is far worse but has the reverse crypt scene moment, so Dean can be more obviously unable to kill Cas because he loves him, and then he walks out, followed by season 11 and Cas being returned to them. Unfortunately. Yep. Another finger curls on the Monkey Paw... 11x03 by Buckleming would absolutely be where Destiel goes undeniably canon as it is their first real interactions post Mark of Cain. Our only consolation - directed by Jensen Ackles.

Season 10 confession, hm. Poor Cas. He has the option of 10x03, of confessing and then immediately apologising and walking off to handle stuff with Hannah (thanks Buckleming!) or the Burger Date, where Dean may be slightly less stunned stupid but still likely to laugh it off and not believe it. There’s not much heavy tension between them most of the season so it’s possible that the only time Cas would really get is to confess in 10x22 while telling Dean that he would have to watch him murder the world, and that would suck because I love you. At which point the story dictates that Dean beats Cas to paste so it’s a very bad look. Season 10 destiel confession is the worst. 

Season 11 may be better because Cas has options to be jealous of Crowley and Dean’s connection to Amara multiple times and then Casifer happens and that can really play up things in a season where a confession is coming. 

I think the Beer Run in 11x23 might be the only viable place, where Dean grabs Cas and takes him out for that drive for last drinks before the end of the world. Cas gets the “you’re our brother” thing and just lays into Dean with the certainty of someone who knows this is it - now or nothing - with “You know that’s crap, Dean. You wait until the end of the world and you can’t even say it. Well I can; I love you.” 

Cue awkward tension, well-placed interrupting Moose, and then the world very much not ending so that when Dean n Cas hug and kiss in front of Mary in 12x01. Well. There’s even more explaining to do to her. Since we’ve made it to Dabb era, I believe any confessions from this point onwards can just slot into the show as we got it from there since it’s entirely compatible to start season 12 assuming Dean n Cas are literally married and never be contradicted by the text in their behaviour. But since we’ve had canon Destiel since whenever, obviously the final episodes are good instead of. That.

Season 12... Going to have to go with the first sniff of true canon coming in Lily Sunder with just a few lines leaning even further in the Cas’s Angel Family Are Homophobic Assholes metaphor, leaving Cas’s relationship with Dean even more live wire exposed. Followed by The Mixtape Scene where Cas is going to confess to Dean and get him startled up out of his seat, accidentally knocking the mixtape to the floor and for a moment it’s like, did he throw it is he mad? but then he’s smooching Cas, fade to black, return to scheduled programming but the whole line about Cas stealing the Colt from under Dean’s pillow makes fuckin sense, as well as the fall out argument and how mad Dean was at Cas followed by how devastated he was at Cas’s death. This just means Dabb era continues as planned except we get a kiss in 13x06 under that big glowy cross, and some more smooching here and there when things are good from then on. 

Season 13... Hm. Cas has to do the confessing and I don’t think he’d throw that at Dean on return from death so unlike if Dean was the one who was being made to confess obviously the aforementioned glowy cross scene obviously would be it for him... Cas could keep that bottled up much longer, especially as he has so much to do with Jack this season. It’s entirely possible we go through the whole season and then Cas lobs it at Dean as a final card when he’s making his Michael decision and we actually see the scene that we didn’t get, where Cas has to watch Dean getting possessed. Except Dean is like, tearful and furious like why would you tell me that now, and anyway i’m doing this for you as well dumbass but fuck you but also how dare you anyway I need to be an archangel now and save our - your - son, bye. Cue Cas sitting there not just in total horror at what happened but also kicking himself for fucking up the moment :P I guess this way at least we can have that moment where Dean is un-Michaeled and tells Cas he’s going to shower and finger guns at him, and now we can have Cas wordlessly and furiously follow him. 

Season 14, we get Cas at Rocky’s bar confessing to Dean while figment!Pamela cheers the whole thing on. If there was EVER a time to use the power of love to snap Dean out of it, Cas upsetting his cosy routine with “this isn’t real, I’M NOT HERE IN YOUR FANTASY” is absolutely the time to pull a reverse crypt scene which has such low stakes in terms of neither of them needing to punch each other when Michael is an external aggressor.

My ONLY issue with this is that Sam has to witness the whole thing and we would get reaction shots and I am a weak mortal who will start cackling at them when I’m supposed to be having the transcendent moment of canon and the whole thing would be ruined just because of the way Jared gurns when doing reactions to dean n cas interacting. Wow thanks. Thanks a lot. 

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

The Death of a Playboy

Summary: Based on that early concept of Mammon being a ladies man.

You both knew that the sex meant nothing beyond scratching an itch. The heat of his hands on your waist, the warmth your lingering kiss on his cheek, the smiles he gives you on the morning, your sweet good byes at every phone call.

It was all part of a game both of you played.

Tags: Fuck Buddies, Friends with Benefits, No Strings Attached Sex UNTIL BOTH OF YOU CAUGHT FEELINGS, OPEN HAPPY ENDING, implied Simeon x Reader, Diavolo x Reader sex.

A/N: I'M SO GLAD THAT EARLY CONCEPT REMAINED A CONCEPT BECAUSE ALL OF US MAMMON STANS WOULD BE READING DIFFERENT KINDS OF FICS, I KNOW HOW FANDOM WORKS AND WE ALL WANT THAT SORT OF ANGST so im here to deliver.

Wrote this with EXO's Playboy on repeat.

--

From the moment you heard his voice on the phone, you knew he was dangerous. The sort of danger that could leave your heart broken into pieces if you weren't careful. And you were right, Mammon was a dangerous sort of beauty.

Someone meant to be admired from a far. A safe distance. His words and countenance was alluring and had you been naive you would have believed him so easily. Such a friendly demon, your Mammon.

But he wasn't yours beyond the pact, beyond The Unspoken Agreement, beyond the doors of the House of Lamentation. He was a stray cat that was loved by everyone but loved no one. He came and went as he pleased.

Collecting hearts that meant nothing beyond feeding his greed.

And you had no desire to be part of his collection. You had your pride, and you were used to the emptiness of playing this game. So even as you leave his room, with your lipstick stains on his white sheets, and a kiss good bye on his smile...it all meant nothing to you.

Because at the end of the day, you didn't mean anything to Mammon either.

--

From the moment Mammon had seen you, he had put his guard up. He knew, in the same way he used to know things as an Angel, that you would be the death of him.

A human, with stormy eyes that made his tar-filled heart beat faster. You were dangerous, in the same sort of way Celestial Weapons were dangerous. Beautiful, bright, and deceptively harmless. Mammon had grown used to the empty flattering and praises of demons, he was used to hearing words of love uttered without a care.

He had learned his lesson.

Love was not for demons and humans were just the same. Even if he hadn't interacted with any for a long time now. So he treated you in the same way he treated everyone else, a charming smile here and there, a playful wink at times, voice soft and just so inviting that even Asmo would be fooled occasionally.

And then there was the whole mess with Levi, and he didn't appreciate his younger brother muddying the waters of your relationship with him. Fuck Buddies or not, you were his pact master.

And Levi had no claim on you. One thing led to another and before he knew it, the loneliness of his days were gone. He used to not care if you left or stayed after a whole night of sex but then somewhere between Levi and then Beel breaking your room, he'd started having you sleep next to him.

He made you stay longer and longer until you naturally began sleeping next to him only to leave in the morning. The morning kisses stopped being a way to say good bye and became a prelude to another round of sex or a make out. His hands lingered on your waist because he wanted to, not because he was driving Levi away.

He had slowly stopped hanging out with his other 'friends' and 'lovers' in favor of you. And Mammon's worst fear had happened.

You were already living in his heart.

And yet both of you were still playing a game he wanted out. But he was to weak to let you go, not when you'd smile at him in the corridor as if sharing a secret with him. Not when you'd play with his hair as he laid on your chest or the way your voice would say his name with a fond tone you've only ever used on him.

Mammon thought how laughable it was that Lucifer had warned you of him but no one ever thought to place a warning label on you. Mammon knew he wasn't the only demon you were fucking.

That beyond the walls of the House of Lamentation, beyond the pact that you formed with him...you had no shortage of partners and not even Simeon had been safe from your charms.

And as he watched the empty space beside him, he wondered whose bed you were staying at tonight.

--

'Diavolo' you decided as he fucked you hard into the mattress, 'is an excellent lover.'

You were grasping his black sheets as he repeatedly hit your g-spot, his thrusts wonderfully timed to bring you just on the edge of cumming before he slows down and starts playing with the rest of your sensitive body. You couldn't remember which round this one was with the way his kiss leaves your brain into a puddle of sensations as his dick languidly fucked you.

"Diavolo..." You moaned helplessly as you clenched if only to make his dick stay and properly make you come.

He smirks at you, and in the dim and sensual red lights of his room, he looked utterly delectable. Intoxicating. A man who knew exactly what he wanted and cocky.

"Needy aren't we?"

"It's because you fuck me good, your highness" You teased him with cocky grin and lick of your lips.

You get rewarded with a sharp thrust and almost came.

"You quite a mouth on you" He said as if he hadn't known that from the moment you had casually enraged Lucifer with your arrangement with Mammon.

And you laugh softly amidst the fucking, enjoying the slow and almost lazy way Diavolo was fucking you. You smile at him,

"How long do you plan to keep me on your bed, your highness?" You asked as you wrapped your legs on his waist and Diavolo smirks at you, all sharp teeth and answered,

"Until morning."

You reached out for him and Diavolo lets himself be held by you as he brings you to a new high. Diavolo was the perfect lover who knew how to give and take, and you let yourself to drown in his sweetness.

You moan his name unabashed. You cling hard to him, nails scraping his back, when he fucks you hard and makes you cum at the same time as him. You don't let yourself think of another demon with tanned skin, of white sheets that you've started to sleep in more than your own bed.

And when morning arrives, you don't kiss Diavolo to wake him up. Instead you take his morning erection in your mouth and start sucking until his eyes open and he gives you a lazy smile.

"Insatiable human" He called you as he petted your hair.

And then very suddenly grips it tight just right that makes you moan. Diavolo had seen your body illuminated by the moonlight but he appreciates the way it looked as you rode his dick and chased after your own orgasm.

"You truly are a sight to behold."

You say nothing to that but instead glanced at your mother's painting of you displayed in the center of his wall.

Diavolo comes inside you at the same time as you do. He praises you for a job well done as he fondles your chest and admires the hickeys he left on your neck.

"Let me send you back, Darling."

And as you enter the House of Lamentation, you ignore the looks they give you. Particularly Lucifer's and Mammon's, you don't look at anyone as you moved past them to head to the stairs that was nearest to your room.

You didn't see the tight clench of Mammon's hands or the glare he gave Diavolo.

--

Lucifer calls you to his office the next morning. Collects you from your room that you rarely slept in since sleeping around with demons that caught your fancy. You only bother to wear the white fur jacket left on your table on top of your sleepwear, and then head out to Lucifer's office.

You sat on the sofa across his, still sleepy and uncaring of whatever lecture he has prepared. And lecture you, he does.

"I hadn't said anything about your activities with demons and even those from purgatory hall," he says sharply "but I draw the line with you fucking Diavolo."

You laugh to his face and made yourself comfortable on his sofa.

"Bold of you to assume that Diavolo wasn't the one fucking me."

He glared at you which only served to make you laugh harder.

"He is the future ruler of Devildom."

"And I have no interest with being Queen" you decided to get it out in the open, "Lucifer, its all just fun and games between me and my bed partners."

"Perhaps..." Lucifer acquiesces and both of you ease up, you smile at him fondly and Lucifer looked away.

It had taken time and a couple of threats from both of you to each other before the two of you had found this equilibrium. Where Lucifer would lecture and you'd listen for a while before dragging things out in the open.

"You do have to be careful," He warned you "Mammon can only do so much."

He sits beside your feet and puts in on his lap. The easy intimacy between friends had always been your comfort but Levi's envy and twisted love had sort of ruined that. And though Mammon was indeed your friend the lined had been blurred between you two and you hadn't allowed yourself of that.

And so to Lucifer it went. An unlikely friend who could match your moments of brilliance and could follow your flights of fancy easily. The lovely intimacy between friends who understood each other in the most naked way.

Lucifer knew your hang ups and fears, and you knew the secrets and pains he kept.

"I'll be careful" You promised him.

He smiles at you softly and the two of you just simply existed in that moment. Enjoying the rare moment of peace.

--

Mammon waited for you to come out of Lucifer's office, he stood at the side of the door. Leaning casually on the wall as he strained his ear to eavesdrop he could hear your muffled laughter until it tapered off into silence. He closed his eyes and wondered if there was any way to stop this game.

He wanted you all to himself, wanted to be the one you came home to at the end of the day. He wanted the things beyond the pact, beyond the doors of the House of Lamentation. The sex was no longer just what he wanted from you.

And Mammon knew, as you stepped out of the room and met his eyes, that you probably wanted the same.

"I missed you, Master~❤" he greeted you sweetly, arms already wrapped around you and whisking you away.

Mammon kept his feral smile. And he could hear your heart speed up and the smell of your arousal.

"Master, let's spend time together all day long~"

He feels your arm wrapped against his and he accepts your kisses as he pinned you against his bedroom door. Cold metal against your skin as his hands deftly undressed you in the privacy of his room. He plays with your nipples as he kissed you deeply.

'This isn't love' Mammon thought as he carried you in his arms.

'This isn't love but it could be.'

And that was the thought that scared him the most. Demons don't love the way humans and angels do. And Mammon already knew what form his love would take.

Greedy and selfish. He wouldn't care about anyone else but you, repercussions and consequences wouldn't matter to him once you were involved. And he didn't want that.

That kind of love he knew you'd abhor.

"Mammon?"

He sinks into your warm embrace and whatever passion between you two was now gone.

"What's wrong?" You asked him so carefully.

And Mammon could almost let himself believe that you love him. Instead of letting himself sink into a new type of loneliness he just clutches you tighter and wishes fervently that you'd never leave him anymore.

You stare at him and his shaking frame. You wouldn't mind if anyone else would be the collateral but Mammon had been different. He wasn't in the same category as your bed partners that you'd leave without good bye or an easy meaningless smile.

Being with Mammon felt like staring at a mirror that revealed all of your flaws. Your greedy and ambitious self that wanted without giving. He had easily and cleverly went through your defenses without your notice. Mammon had made you care for him in the same way, the little prince cared for the fox and his rose.

You began to care for him like he was the stray cat that began living in your home after feeding it for few days. He had carved a space in between the broken pieces of your heart and remade you anew. And so, in the same sort of destructive way you always went, you clung into the routine of sleeping around.

Pretending that you weren't comparing each bed partner to Mammon. Pretending as if you weren't sleeping with him most of the time. You liked to believe that you never played favorites among your low and mid level demons, that Mammon got away with alot of things when compared to the trouble Asmo, Beel, and Levi would bring. You were careful to ensure that no one would look twice at the fact that Mammon was the only high level demon you had on your pacts.

You gave him power over your other pacts and gave him power over you. You hide your wry smile and, hope, as you lull him to restful sleep that he doesn't realize how far you'd fallen.

You still had your pride after all.

--

What breaks isn't Lucifer's trust on you nor your pride but the bond between you and Mammon. And losing him, the very feeling of a pact breaking hurt you more than anything else.

You had your pride and you've won your gambit but as you see Mammon walk away from you his composure in tact, it felt like you've won nothing at all. And whatever joy you had on having Diavolo's pact mark on you had long since faded.

Even so, you don't let yourself break or cry or show any negative emotion. You keep your smile plastered and iron out the details for Belphie's clemency. There were so many things to be done and your greed and ambition had yet to be fully satiated.

And as his accusations and hateful glare rang inside your mind, you reminded yourself that you would never beg anyone to remain.

Mammon fucks his heartbreak away through half of the entirety of devildom. And the occasional witch that would willingly offer themselves to him. He doesn't let himself feel the pain of your betrayal and broken promises.

You were living your best life and he wasn't part of it. He was a fool to think you'd be different. That he would always be the only one, he should have known when you let Diavolo bring you back that things were changing.

He couldn't keep you because you never stayed unless he asked.

He relearns how he was before you came, resharpens the edges you blunted and flirts more than ever, and leaves hearts broken more than Asmo. He doesn't bring anyone home because even at his worst, the thought of hurting you directly or indirectly was something the couldn't do.

He loved you to the point of losing himself.

--

In chess, Promotion by rule meant that the moment a pawn reaches the 8th rank it would be replaced by a player's choice of Rook, Bishop, Knight or a Queen of the same color. Imagine this then:

Two players. God plays White and Diavolo plays Black. God plays the King's Gambit as his opening move and Diavolo declines it. Changing the game in his favor but still loses.

A new player arrives and plays Black. The game continues from where it left off. A losing game but a miracle occurs. Somehow the new player manages to do a Promotion.

A pawn is turned into a Queen.

Black wins. It was nothing short of a miracle but the win came with the cost of sacrificing the promoted Queen.

It wasn't the way you wanted to win. But you were desperate. Even so, that greedy part of you never wanted to lose Mammon.

But the empty space where his pact used to be is a stark reminder of what you had done. You wondered if there was still a chance to change things for a better.

You hear Diavolo call for you and you go to him and you begin pretending again.

'Maybe this time I can actually believe you meant nothing to me...'

Like always, you don't notice the way Mammon looks at you.

-

This is how you surrender:

At a party held in your honor.In the dark empty underground gallery of the castle, Mammon has you pinned against the cold brick wall and you're desperately kissing him back. His grip on you tight and the desperate, you grind against him for the friction and heat you crave. In the dark you could pretend that this was one of your games.

Heated kisses in hidden places. Risking the chance to be caught if only to bring out in the open what shouldn't. You had always known that Mammon was beautiful and it wasn't just his physical appearance. It was his genuine care for you, the intimacy that went beyond the platonic and the romantic. It was him seeing you at your absolute worst and loving you still.

It was the way he held you right now. Tight but still incredibly careful, always thinking about your inherent human fragility. It was in his kisses that stole your breath away, the ardent adoration in his eyes as you repeatedly called his name in between your near silent moans. That his hands still knew your body so well, that every gentle caress and grip of his hand was always sure. Never faltering nor second guessing the actions that would arouse you.

"Mammon" You begged, said his name like a whispered prayer in the nights you missed his embrace.

A single name that encompassed what you wanted to say but couldn't.

Forgive me.

I'm sorry.

Come back to me.

I love you.

He fucks you against the wall. Rough and desperate and taking out all of his frustrations at your expense. And even then, he fucks you just the way you like it. Ensuring that you would love every moment that he thrusts his dick in you. He whispers his hatred in your ears with every thrust and mixes his love for you.

He shows you his absolute worst. This love of his that only takes and takes. A twisted love that would never let you be as free as you are now.

"Master, you must really think I'm pathetic" He whispered brokenly, "I'm here still wanting you, still doing what you want even without the pact."

You moan his name.

"But even then I can't hate you with everything I have. I'm Mammon, the Avatar of Greed and you've reduced me to this."

You looked at him, eyes daze and brain still muddled from his expertise. Despite that you see his broken and lost look and can't help but coddle him. Make promises of fixing things and your heart breaks with his hollow laugh.

"Forgive me" You whisper as you hold onto him tight, his pace relentless as he hits that one spot again and again.

"You promised" He said as he held you tight enough to leave bruises.

"I'm sorry."

"Why do ya always leave? Even when I want you to stay you never really stay! Master!"

You feel his tears fall on your face and taste its salty flavor as he kisses you again. You feel your insides clench as you come and Mammon follows right after. Both of you breathe heavily, Mammon leans on you and you hug him.

"I didn't want to fall for you," You answered as you clutched his jacket tightly "From the moment we met I knew that it was inevitable but I still tried."

You relish at the perverted way you two were still connected and wondered how far could you take this before something broke beyond repair. But that was how far you were willing to go, always wondering but never for a single moment considering to do it.

"Mammon, my only beloved demon loving you was something I could never escape from."

He looked at you and saw the helplessness in your eyes and as you looked at him you put down your pride. Your demon whom you've tamed and in turn tamed you.

"I surrender myself to you."

It was too soon for an 'I love you' with wounds still raw and problems needed to be addressed. There were still secrets needed to be talked about and countless little things to be done. But in this moment, where Mammon sees you at your most honest, he spoke

"I accept."

And he kisses you softly, sweetly in the way he always imagined if you were his lover. It isn't love but it could be and this time both of you would let it be.

#mammon x mc #mammon x reader #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #obey-me-mammon-x-reader #diavolo x reader

[borisbubbles]

17. CZECH REPUBLIC

Benny Christo - “Kemama”

So first off, thank you for the nice commens. 😇The past few months haven’t been the happiest time for me, so thank you for your patience as I scraped my bearings together for another post! 😁

So I will now extend that same sympathy to Benny Christo, whom I think I damn fucking underrated. Let’s jump in~

ENTRY ANALYSIS

As one may expect i INSTANTLY liked “Kemama” because you know, it’s a fun, laid-back, tropical afro-breeze, completely different from anything else we would see in NFs and the year. EXACTLY the type of song I was hoping the Czech NF would deliver (and deliver they did, see NF Corner). This level of mild like swung into strong unironic like upon realizing that the title is a contraction of “Okay Mother” 😍 and the song deals with the subject of overcoming racially-tinged discrimination and rising above the hate. That just feels very poetic and apt? “Kemama” felt like the entry that had to overcome the highest odds in order to earn the respect it so fully deserves, and still hasn’t fully reached it.

.In our Western European bubble, comprised mostly of gays and left-liberal straights, we have a very grateful and universal acceptance of many different kinds of [lizard] people that make up Eurovision casts. Yet with “Kemama” we may have reached  an unusually grimy undercurrent of coded racism. 

Of course nothing I read was outrageously rancid, than Cod for that. The worst statement I read was a double-whammy of “EWW THIS ISN’T CARIBBEANVISION” and “WHY WOULD SOMEONE FROM *KENYA* WANT TO REP CZECHIA IN EUROVISION?”, and yes they first got the continent wrong and then *also* got the country wrong in the follow-up post and then they were torn limb from limb by a pack of aformentioned left-liberals. I’m sorry but i can’t not have any other response than laughter in the face of yet another fucking MORON faceplanting themselves with words like a... racist JK Rowling if you will?

Still, while I never read something outright vile about Benny doesn’t mean I found his deniers really annoying and they were! Think “Ew Solovey is ‘Too Aggressive’ it will NEVER DO WELL IN ESC”, a statement that isn’t coded nor racist (and yet extremely false and misguided), functioned as a similar idea by the same minds. A statement borne from the same breed of narrow-minded stubbornness which has caused elitist morons to be all “there is **SOMETHING** about “Kemama” i do *NOT* like and I cannot lay my finger on it... but I **DO NOT** like it at ALL. It won’t ever qualify because everyone will think the same way I do” -- Eurovision snobs, tiptoeing around racial coda in January 2020.

 They would also insist that Benny was “arrogant” because he was seemingly impervious to their (de)constructive criticism. Like, if you were a biracial butterfly living in a slavic country who had to deal with statements such as the above on a regular basis, you WOULD block out the noise. And if you heard them often enough you will start to block them out pre-emptively. DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW COPING MECHANISMS WORK?? (oh wait you’re white-privileged. Nevermind 🙄)

 So naturally, when Benny decided that he would revamp “Okay Mother” by adding in MORE African elements it only made me love him even more lol. 😍 Was it a bull-headed, contrarian and possibly really stupid decision? Yes, yes and absolutely yes. Was it worth it? Well he managed to incite even more meltdowns in a group of people I feel nothing but contempt for, so hell yeah? Eurovision was cancelled anyway so who cares how much ‘worse’ “Kemama” actually got. 

Okay, so we’ve arrived at the revamp.

Granted, it wasn’t the best ‘vamp, I’d be a fool to deny it. The new elements threw a wrench in the melodic balance of the song. Out went tropical laid-back fun, IN went that fucking guitar oh my god this is some Hotel FM piano levels of overbearing I swear. (nb: this still didn’t stop me from ironically stanning Hotel FM’s lame asses anyway 😍). However, it made the personal backstory that I loved and savoured take a backseat to the now inferior composition. 😭

Regardless, New Kemama was fundamentally the same song, and I fundamentally liked Old Kemama, so whatevs, it made no different to me. In the eyes of many Eurovision diehards we were experiencing WORST PRESHOW SEASON EVER (after three songs... lol) and nothing clinches this brainworm more than a revamp announcement. “OH MY GOD HE WILL RUIN IT! I CAN GUARANTEE YOU I *WON’T* LIKE IT”. Self-fulfilling prophecies, ya know? It certainly didn’t help when the official channel accidentally uploaded a vid with broken soundmixing (‘OMG HORRIBLE LAST IN THE SEMI!!!!’ calm the ever-loving HELL down) and took another FULL WEEK to upload the correct vid. The damage had already been done. Typing "SEE I TOLD YOU THE REVAMP WOULD BE SHITE HA HA HA” in the Kemama comment box really just is the ESC equivalent of reponding with “Actually, *all* lives matter :smug:” to a BLM support pamphlet, isn’t it?

NF CORNER

While not my favourite NF of the bunch, I found the Czech NF to be lowkey epic. Not epic enough to remember its name but regardless Czechvision or whatever marked the end of an era because it was also the last selection spearheaded by Jan Bors :o

I think I’ve made it clear enough in the past that I’m somewhat mixed on Bors Era Czechia - Lake Malawi were a toetapping good, Ickolas was a pockmarked, skin-crawling evil and the other three inhibit a purgatory somewhere between “moderately nice” and “moderate timewaste.”

Still, I have great respect for the man who orchestrated Czech’s comeback after scoring NINE POINTS TOTAL across three years with the mindset of “So what? Why says we can’t win?” so ofc I was all into the idea of the “EIGHT INDIE ANGELS, HAND-PICKED BY BORS HIMSELF” NF that would serve as his swan song.

Naturally things went down the drain the second Bors left, with one of the eight peacing and his successor cancelling the live broadcast (does anyone remember what exactly happened? I vaguely recall one was the cause of the other but lol it’s July can’t be bothered to factscheck (Factsczeck?) anymore, bitches.

Anyway, ON TO THE GOOD STUFF, and yes, there was plenty.

We All Poop - “ All the Blood (Positive Song Actually)”

Yes, as you can imagine I ofc IMMEDIATELY fell into like when I saw that chyron and invisioned the inevitability of the Czech Rep’s Rep immediately alienating every parent just based on their name alone <3 😍 w/e WAP quickly became that “Good but not great” song you find in every NF that everyone gushes over because it’s the whitest option available. Like, yes, “All the blood” is good, but musically it’s identical to Green Day and Twenty-One Pilots and god name ANY 90s-early00′s American Punk Rock band. For me the enjoyment came from the fact that WAP were openly crazy vegan fundamentalists and the VC clip actively condemns the use ANY animal protein by replacing the cattle and game with LITERAL HUMAN BEINGS. 😍 :fusedmarcintensifies: :kasiamosage:

Pam Rabbit - “Get up”

Ohhhh YES a glorious experimental Synth-Trap song only I could love and ofc I did. God what is there even to say; the provocative darkness of the verses combined with the swirling amorphousness of the chorus gives me LIFE. LUFF THIS SHIT <3333 Ftr, this was also the fave of Slovene Juror duo / synth angels / Boris faves ZALAGASPER, further proving their pathetic naysayers that they own all things music and the haters can suck a series of-

Barbora Mochowa - “White and Black Holes“

Lol, yes even with a “Get up” existing, there was a song I liked even more. Barbora proved a very competent Lana del Gay last year, but I was a YUGE fan of this year’s... Kate Bush-Björk blend of ethereal awesome. It is so soothingly beautiful and the rare example of a song that I find completely free of flaws. Were the competition not such a hard place, I’d be pissed she didnt win (at least she won the jury vote MASSIVE KUDOS to every alum on that) but w/e this selection had opions and I’m rather robbed of a “Kemama” than I am of a BRILLIANT IRREPLICABLE AETHERBALLAD. ~Danse balance sûr les white and black holes~

Elis Mraz & Cis T - “Wanna be like”

I *VERY* strongly felt that if the Czech Republic wanted to win ESC, they should have picked Elis and even now I STILL believe she could have won. That isn’t to say I gushed over “Wanna be like” because I find it kind of annoying lol. Yes, I LOVE an annoying female voice (:Tones&Icackle:) but Elis’s reaches a Camilla Cabello sort of place for me (good lord get Senorita OFF the fucking radio) and the Scat + White Guy Rapping middle-eight. 😬. However, the second I opened up the video clip for this paragraph and was immediately BLASTED by Elis murdering a ukelele and wearing a  “schoolgirl” outfit straight from a Japanese tentacle porn movie and OH MY GOD THE AGGRESSIVE TWERKING made me reconsider that hey, this min-sized Meghan Traynor actually kinda highkey owns, yo!  Yet, I’m not at all bothered we lost her in the Czech NF because we got UNO DOS QUATRO CINCO SEIS :fatmansplit: fill up the megameme slot instead, so...

Eurovision 2020 vs Eurovision 2021

BENNY RUINED HIS SONG AND NEVER WOULD HAVE QUALIFIED. jk I’m not a moron. Sure, “Kemama” wasn’t an easy sell because you know AFROBEAT in a contest where half of the people watching are fash (ie: all of Eastern Europe, who watch out of ~Nationalistic Sentiment~ 😬), but there are Kemama live renditions out there and he owns them SO hard lol. A few soundmixing issues really would not have stopped Benny from qualifying in that RIDICULOUSLY WEAKSAUCE SEMIFINAL are you fucking kidding me. He probably would’ve bombed in the Grand Final, but I mean it’s Czech and it’s not Ickolas so ofc it would have.

And Czech renewed him for 2021 regardless of the sceptics, woohoo! I think part of it was due the Czech not wanting to re-organize an ENTIRE NF from scratch without Jan Bors, but probably also because Benny owns live when he isn’t engaged in psychological trench warfare with actual human detritus <3 and also because the Czech fucking CARE about their artists and don’t drop them like a sack of rotten potatoes wtfshitprus.

Can’t wait for the moment when he qualifies and Efendi does not, etc, etc. 

FREAKY! FRIDAY! FACTOR!

I’d say that the core around which the Ben Drama spun was pretty standard fare: niche fave beats out the concensus fave, meltdowns ensue, people convince themselves it was the WRONG decision because it wasn the result they wanted, try to disown the song and make a fool of themselves because the song slaps, sorry. Even the revamp drama felt more of less generic for me, because yawn fantards melting down over a revamp of a song they don’t even like what else is new.  

However, what I do take away that the revamp was ENTIRELY Benny’s idea which he told no one about (cue to JAN BORS having a social media meltdown like he’s Caesar at the Ides of March 💔) added MORE afrobeat just to troll his haters even more <3  God, I’d say it was bad from a musical perspective but this level of in-your-face defiance is fucking iconic and hilarious, sorry. This entire this year is so batshit bonkers that the concept of a someone potentially shooting themselves in the foot and “torpedo’ing” their qualification chances  (not rly, he would’ve Q’d anyway lol) JUST to take the moral high ground in a racially coded argument only HE took seriously may not even be the craziest concept in the year! (lol it definitely isn’t. Look at the pics I haven’t greyed out yet)

This and more yield Benny some well-earned Senheads! Yay!! 

Score: 3 Senhits out of 5.

#Eurovision #Eurovision 2020 #Eurovision Song Contest #Czech Republic #Czechia #Bohemia #Ben Christovão #Benny Christo

[chaoticsleepdeprived]

I wrote the first half of this a while ago, but I finally finished it so here

“Are you God?”

The man smiled sadly and shrugged, the slight movement of his shoulders sending ripples through the white expanse around us.

“Now that’s a hard question. To you? I suppose I could be considered a god. To myself? I’m just an average guy.”

“I guess that makes sense, power is relative. But I still have so many questions...”

The man laughed, not at me, but not quite with me either. It was the way you might laugh at a dog, mystified by a human’s magic trick.

“I knew you would. Curiosity is most of what makes you human. Ask me your questions, I’ll do my best to answer.”

“Well, are there more like you?”

“Yes. I am one of many. The universe is a big place, lots of ground to cover,” the man chuckled a little, “If it was just me I’d be stretched pretty thin.”

“What are you?”

“Ah, that’s a question with a lot of answers. I’ve gone by a lot of names, and my kind have gone by a lot more. For a while we were called angels. To some we are spirits. To some, fae. We have been called muses, inspirations, ideas, equations. Recently we were called quarks. I particularly enjoyed that one, it was fun to say.”

I looked down thoughtfully.

“So what is it that you do?”

The man paused briefly, surprised by my question. He glanced at me appraisingly before continuing.

“You’re a more clever human than I’ve talked to in a while. Few people have questioned what I do, they’ve simply assumed what I can do conforms to their legends.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then continued.

“I suppose the answer is that I do a lot. I watch over humans. I keep an eye on things, prod events towards their best possible outcome. On a more personal level, I keep track of people’s actions. I’ve seen everyone at their best,” he grins and holds his hand out, causing a large orb to appear, showing a man playing with his dog in a park, “and I’ve seen everyone at their worst...” he looks very tired suddenly. He gestures, bringing up many orbs showing various scenes of various terrible things. A man trembling with a gun to his head, a woman holding up a store, too many images to count. The man shakes the grim look off of his face and smiles. “I’ve always found, though, that when push comes to shove, no matter how unpleasant the world may seem, there’s typically more good than bad!”

I must look reassured by this statement, because he smiles warmly at my expression. I look around at the blankness surrounding us.

“Where are we?”

“I suppose you could call it limbo. It’s more of a border checkpoint than the purgatorial abyss that most humans imagine.”

“Am I dead?”

“That’s the million dollar question here friend. You see, you aren’t quite dead yet, but you aren’t quite alive still. This sort of thing doesn’t happen too often. You get an extra choice that most people don’t.”

“Extra?”

“Well, when people die, lots can happen. Not everyone wants the same afterlife. Some want to be reincarnated, some want heaven, and some unhappy few just want nothing.”

“Nothing?”

He nods solemnly.

“Nothing. They want to fade away, lose their consciousness. Sometimes forever, sometimes until someone else arrives.”

“I can’t imagine just ceasing to exist.”

“Many people can. Usually those who commit suicide choose that option, for one reason or another. Some want the eternal rest they came for, some feel they don’t deserve paradise after taking the easy way out.”

“That’s awful!”

“I agree. Every so often we’ll bring a few people back, offer them counseling, help them work through it, let them choose again. They usually choose something else.”

“I should hope so. I would certainly never choose the void over eternal paradise.”

I sit in solemn silence for a moment.

“You said I get an extra choice?”

He gives a spritely nod.

“Every so often we’ll get someone who isn’t quite dead, but isn’t quite alive. A Schrödinger‘s Human, so to speak. Whenever one of these comes through it makes a bit of a hullabaloo. Each case is looked at carefully from every angle. We look at the causes of half-death, who you leave behind, what will happen if you live, what will happen if you die, all the good and bad you’ve already done. If living will do more good than bad we send you back. If dying will do more good than living then we’ll send you on. If your death was caused by a mistake by one of us, or you going back will bring the same amount of good as dying, you get a choice. Your death checks both of these boxes. People like you don’t come by often. In fact, the last one I handled personally was born a couple thousand years ago, some spiritual leader that the Romans crucified after an apprentice accidentally sent someone back who was supposed to stay dead.”

I was stunned. My heart and mind were both racing.

“Am- am I the second coming of Jesus?”

He smiled in a way that made me guess he had been asked this before.

“More like the eighty-five thousand, two hundred sixty third coming of Jesus. And he was roughly the four hundred seventy five millionth coming of Ook, an early human whose death was the result of our first mistake ever. The only thing special about Jesus’s death and resurrection is that he was returned a few Earth days after his death, instead of immediately, due to a secondary clerical error.”

I looked down, slightly stunned by this news.

“So- so Jesus really was just a man?”

The man smiled gently at me.

“Well that depends on your point of view. In my personal opinion no one is ‘just a man’ because everyone is someone. Everyone has feelings, everyone has hopes and dreams. No one is ‘just a man’ because everyone is their own person.”

I chuckled a little bit.

“You know, you’re pretty wise for an all knowing deity.”

He laughed heartily, before sighing and speaking again.

“Yes, we deities do have a habit of being wise, but you humans always amuse me with your habit of wisecracking. Your dry senses of humor never cease to amaze me.”

He suddenly looked more serious, and his tone became more businesslike.

“But we do still need to decide what to do with you. Take any afterlife you know of, any afterlife you can imagine, anyone you want to be with. You can have all that now. Or you can go back. You can forget all this for the time being. You can return to Earth to live the rest of your life, and you can return here when your time comes with finality.”

I looked hesitantly around.

“And I still get my choices when I come back?”

He nodded, seeming to already guess what my answer was, even though I technically wasn’t sure yet myself.

“When you return here you’ll be presented the same choices, minus the option to go back to your own life of course. When you die with finality your only way back is reincarnation. But until then you will have no memory of here. You will be returned to a world of uncertainty, where you have no idea whether or not there even is an ‘after’ let alone what it might be.”

“Can I think about it for a bit?”

“Of course, take all the time you need. As you might have guessed time means a little bit less here.”

So I sat. And I thought. I considered who I was leaving by returning to Earth, and I considered who I was leaving by staying in the afterlife. If I stayed alive I would see my family again. If I stayed dead I would see my parents again. I could see my old best friend, the one who overdosed in college, or my childhood pets. But I would see them eventually anyways. I could still affect the world of the living. I could make life better for some people.

I made my decision.

“I’ve decided.”

“And?”

“I’d like to go back. I still have work to do. But can I have one thought left in my head when you wake me back up?”

“That depends on the thought.”

“I want to remember why I’m there. I don’t care much how you put it in my head, maybe a new outlook from a near death experience. I want to remember I’m there to make things better. Can I remember that? That I’m alive for a reason?”

The god smiled warmly at me.

“Everyone is alive for a reason little one. That reason is to live. I can grant your wish, but you must not forget to live while you continue your life.”

“I promise.”

“Then I’ll see you in a few decades.”

He made a slight gesture over me, and snapped his fingers. The world slowly turned white, then black, then white again. As my eyes adjusted to the light I saw a paramedic standing over me.

“You’re lucky to be alive son, that car crash could have killed a man a lot bigger than you.”

I slowly fell back into unconsciousness, my encounter already almost gone from my mind. But as it slipped away until I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to remember, two thoughts bounced around in my head.

I’m alive for a reason.

And I can’t forget to live while I am.

#the meaning of life #are you a god? #writing #original content #afterlife #death #and what comes after

[kassandra-lorelei]

Hey! I don't know if you still do these but would you be able to write an n/cc fic where instead of proposing in The Producers, Niles tells CC the play was for her ? Thank you and I love your writing!!

I absolutely still do these, Anon - I have no idea how long you have been waiting now and I’m so sorry it’s taken this long! I have quite a backlog to get through, with full-time work and general adult life (as well as some executive dysfunction), but this one is all ready to go. I really hope you enjoy it, and I will get on the next one on the list as soon as possible (it may happen quicker, considering we’re on lockdown for at least another two weeks, but we shall see how these things go) ❤️

@missbabcocks1 @holomoriarty

“You finally pulled off something bigger than your shorts!”

The zinger, alongside the accompanying gleeful laughter – asexpected as this package would normally have been – utterly blindsided Niles,given that Miss Babcock had only just told him how impressed she was. Impressed.She’d actually used the word “impressed”, to talk about this entire play thathe’d produced! The play that now this entire room full of people werecelebrating, at an afterparty he’d never before imagined could exist.

It had been like music, hearing the words from her lips, rubyred and curved into a smile that looked far softer and friendlier than normal…

He should have known she was setting him up. Why wouldn’tshe be? Since when did they ever do anything that wouldn’t somehow lead to the (atleast) momentary downfall of the other? It was all they ever did.

And his only hope of salvation at that moment was to thinkup a snappy retort that he could fire back at the back of her golden head,where she’d crushingly turned away.

But even though words and phrases and colourful insults of allshades and hues danced through his head, urging him to continue the wargames, everysingle one of them died the moment he attempted to let them fall onto histongue.

It was useless. The entire idea of having her as his enemy hadno meaning to it.

What was the actual point, in letting it go on? In allowingthe cycle that ran a far-too-thin line between hurt and fun to just…run theirlives? Would it go on forever, him never admitting how he felt and neverhearing what she really felt, either, whatever that was? As terrifying as itwas to think that they might be nothing otherwise, this all currently felt likea twisted Purgatory; one where the stranded soul could experience both Heavenand Hell in equal, random measure.

There was only one thing he could do. Only one, if he wantedto take a shot at reaching paradise.

Even if he fell on the way, at least he would have tried.

And, after a moment in which he had gathered his courage andhad dumped a few phrases from his mind that would either scare her (“Marry me”;who wanted to immediately be asked that?) or come across as peculiar (“I pulledthem off for you”; what was that even supposed to mean?!), he finally knew whathe had to say.

“And it was all done for you.”

He wondered, for a moment, if she hadn’t heard him. If hewas about to have another moment like he’d had in the kitchen, where he hadbeen able to swiftly back out the second he’d realised it had been a bad idea.

But she turned, eyes wider than before and lips slightlyparted, as though she were holding herself back from simply letting her jawdrop.

“What did you just say?”

Her tone told him she wasn’t asking because she hadn’theard. She was asking precisely because she had heard. She’d heard, and shecouldn’t believe any of it.

Niles, meanwhile, was rooted to the spot and hastily tellingevery panicked thought in his mind that he wasn’t about to turn and run away.

There was no point in backing out now. No chance to, either.

He pulled another breath into his lungs, making it deep. Hehad a feeling that it could be one of his last, anyway, so he might as wellmake it a good one.

“I…I said that this show was…made for you,” he explained,finding it a gargantuan effort simply to not swallow his own tongue in theprocess. “I produced it for you. As a…as a token…of my affection…”

He trailed off as Miss Babcock took a step in his direction.But it wasn’t a ‘happy’ step, or even a surprised one (though she’d have everyright to be surprised, if she was feeling it underneath the apparent anger); itwas more the sort of march forward one might expect of an army captain whohad just heard a war prisoner speaking out of turn. The sort of step that commanded,while ordering an explanation the person most likely would no longer know howto give.

And it made Niles suddenly very aware of the fact that he’djust told this to her in a room full of other people, both friends andstrangers, all of whom had already been to see a show that evening. As thebutler wasn’t keen on the idea of them seeing another one, he directed his gazeall around them, indicating the fact that they weren’t alone and any sort ofscene made would have witnesses.

“Should we perhaps…go somewhere else to talk? I know thatthis must be-“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Miss Babcock hadalready gotten close enough to reach out and grab his wrist, dragging him outof the room.

“You’re damn right we’re going somewhere else to talk!”

……………………………………………………………………………………….

The journey she took him on through the building seemed to goon forever, neither one of them speaking a word until Miss Babcock finallysettled on a small room which appeared to be used to store props and a few racksof costumes. Again, it wasn’t exactly the stunning Hollywood setting hiswildest fantasies conjured up in the dead of night, but this was reality.

He’d be a fool to really think they’d go to some privateterrace overlooking the city, where all the feelings would come out as themusic rose to a great crescendo, whereupon they’d immediately fall into eachothers’ arms.

He was, in truth, lucky that she hadn’t simply laughed athim before walking away, back at the party.

On the other hand, the look on her face as she closed thedoor behind them, standing between him and the only available exit, made himthink that there were still far more fortunate people out there than he was.

“Alright, Butler Boy, you’d better start going against yourbetter drinks-pouring instincts and spill!”

On any other day, and in any other place at any other time, Nilesmight have considered turning that demand into a zinger. But as thingscurrently stood, he couldn’t even work up the nerve to think of one, let alonesay it out loud.

All he had was what he had worked up all this courage totell her.

With no idea of where to begin, if he was honest. There wasso much that he wanted – had – to get out, that it all wanted to come rushingout at once! But that wouldn’t work; it would just get all jumbled up andconfuse Miss Babcock at best, or make her angrier than she already was, atworst.

Maybe it was best if she decided what he started with? Thatway he could focus on one thing at once…

“Where would you like me to start?”

The question came out much meeker and softer than he’dwanted it to be, and that want quickly transferred to the idea of kickinghimself. He didn’t exactly sound like James Bond, this way. More like the guywho never made it through basic spy training because he cried whenever the timecame for interrogation practice.

If he could just be calm and rational about it all, it mightnot be so difficult.

Not that the producer made it easy, simply by being there infront of him. This was different from his many awkward-but-at-least-practicedattempts at telling her, done in front of the mirror at the mansion. He didn’thave anybody glaring at him, for a start.

Further emphasising the point, Miss Babcock also folded herarms, “I don’t know, maybe on that word you used – you know the one; affection.”

Niles silently held his breath before even trying torespond.

“What about it?”

“Where the hell did it come from, perhaps?! Just to startoff with,” she shouted in return, sounding equal parts bewildered and enraged. “Andthen maybe why you thought you could just say it like that?!”

“I didn’t think I could just say it like that!” he foundhimself arguing in return, sadness and fear giving way to his chest starting tocave in. “I…I had to get it out before I lost my nerve.”

““Lost your nerve”?” Miss Babcock echoed, scoffing at thesame time. She then folded her arms. “That makes it sound like this wasn’t somesort of practical joke on your part!”

Niles’ jaw dropped of its own accord, words tumbling outbefore he could stop to think rationally, “Why on Earth would you believe thatit was a practical joke…?!”

“Isn’t everything else you do to me a prank, or a practicaljoke of some kind?!” the producer snapped. “Why would this be any different?”

The butler let his mouth close again. His mind was warringover whether he could scarcely believe what he’d heard, or if he was justshocked and upset because he knew that she was right. He supposed it was amixture of both, along with the realisation that that really was what was goingon – if they both thought it, separately, without any input from the other, howcould it not be true?

There had barely been an interaction between them whichhadn’t started with some sort of practical joke, from one side or the other. Andhe had started it all. In his foolish – and perhaps insane – attempts to benoticed by someone who would otherwise never have much of a reason to even lookat him for more than a few seconds, he had started their rivalry.

Miss Babcock had simply retaliated; given back as good asshe’d gotten.

She must’ve mistaken his horrified silence for an admissionof guilt in the present moment because she continued. Only this time, shesounded…almost resigned. As if she believed the whole evening had been leadingup to this very second, and she was upset that she hadn’t seen or understoodthat fact before now.

Niles didn’t know why that would be the case. It was justhow she appeared.

The producer leaned on the nearest prop crate, arms stillfolded and now looking at him with more than a mild degree of expectation, aswell as annoyance.

“So come on and own up; what was the punchline in this latestand greatest trick of yours? Or did I spoil the whole thing, by not letting usbe in a room full of people who could hear it?”

The butler silently swallowed before he answered. This wastruly it; there was no going back from this moment on.

“There is no punchline.”

Miss Babcock scoffed again, rolling her eyes.

“Oh come on, Niles, of course there’s a punchline!” shecried out in disbelief. “That’s like saying that there’s no-”

“There is no punchline, Miss Babcock!” Niles was moreforceful in his insistence, this time. It was as though something in him hadsnapped, at last – as though it had gotten weary or sick of backing down, ornever even speaking up in the first place. “It wasn’t a joke. I produced thatplay for you, as a token of my affection.”

“What the hell do you mean, “affection”?!” she shouted back.

That was more than enough to open the floodgates.

Scratch that, actually; opening the floodgates might implythat they could be closed again and something could still be held back. Thiswas more like someone had taken a giant wrecking ball to the wall of the dam.

“How can I put that word any more simply than you alreadyhave it?! Affection! Caring! Fondness! I am in love with you, you stupidwitch!”

For an instant – a point suspended in time which might’vebeen minutes, or just mere seconds – Miss Babcock looked amazed. Her eyes wentwide with shock, but no horror, and she appeared struck by the notion that hehad opened up beyond all measure. She actually looked quite a bit like she hadin each of Niles’ fantasies, just before the point where she would quietly ask“Really?”, before he’d say yes and they’d embrace in whatever fanciful or over-the-toplocation he’d picked for his mind’s outing that particular evening.

But, as he’d noted when they’d gone in, this was real life,taking place in an unimportant prop closet that didn’t even have so much as awindow to let in light, let alone provide Oscar-worthy cinematography and mise-en-scène.

And the instant ended as quickly as it had begun, when theproducer seemed to shake herself out of it and spring right back into anger.

“Oh, baloney! Since when have you ever displayed one iota ofinterest in me that could’ve come across as being in love?!”

Whatever had snapped in the butler before, could only havesnapped partially. He knew this because he felt the rest of it go and his ownanger – built up over years of frustration, pain and sorrow – flared to life.

“Whenever would you have let me?! Would an ordinary servantwho barely uttered a word and whom you would only see when they brought you teaor took your coat ever have stood a chance?” he took a step forward, letting gocompletely as the feelings took over. He jabbed the air in between them,pointing at her accusingly. “Be completely honest with both me and yourself,just this once, and tell me; would you have even seen me as a person if Ihadn’t gone further?”

There would almost have been another silence, had he notsworn he could hear the resounding slap to Miss Babcock’s face that his wordshad just produced. Even if she was trying to hold it together, he could tellthat the hit had landed – he saw a light dim in her eyes, that he had never,ever seen get even slightly dull before. Even in their worst moments, thosesapphires had never been anything less than bright, whether they were sparklingwith delight or burning with fire.

The guilt started in his throat and burrowed downwards,hollowing him out into the pit of his stomach. It was more than enough to makehim duck his head away in shame.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he bit the insideof his lip, every awful feeling word churning up his insides. “Just as Ishouldn’t have said or done a lot of things. I felt as though I had no choice;I could either stay an active part of your day-to-day life, albeit one that stuckin your craw, or I could just…blend into the furniture, like all the otherservants your family has ever known.”

He found himself leaning on his own crate and stared a holeinto the floor, the weight of everything coming crashing down on him, from thenotion of his own worthlessness in life to the knowledge that he’d been a foolto even try and attempt this.

“I suppose this play was just yet another desperate butfailed attempt at being more.”

“Desperate and failed”, indeed. The two words summed him upperfectly. He was nothing more than a stupid butler, who’d done too much damagein a place where he just simply wasn’t wanted. And even if he had had a chance,how good would those chances have been against someone else’s? That slimpossibility that she might look in his direction was nothing, compared to whatwould happen if some rich, handsome, charming fellow passed her way.

He couldn’t even begin to hold a candle to what she couldget. Or what she deserved. The chance was nothing, and so was he.

There wasn’t anything else to it, then. He had to leave – he’dapologise for even bringing this entire business up, promise to never let it affecthis work or hers (there would be no more pranks, to start with) and then hewould go. As he had no way of obtaining a new job, he would simply stay out ofher way at the mansion, as best he could. The entire afterparty was over forhim, too, so he had no qualms about leaving it. He wasn’t in much of acelebratory mood.

He was about to start with the first part by getting up fromhis temporary perch, when Miss Babcock’s voice cut through the still, slightlystale air.

“You’re right.”

He knew he was; that was why he felt so terrible. But hecouldn’t help being curious about which bit in particular she wanted to bringup and discuss.

“…About which part?”

He never expected the answer he got.

“All of it. All the stuff to do with me, anyway,” she mumbled,before shifting in chosen seat to apparently get more comfortable. “Ever sinceI was a little girl, my family always taught me how to act around servants.“They’re there to give you what you need, you don’t have to thank them!”, “It’stheir job to look after us, we don’t mix with them for pleasure!”, “Stoptalking to them so much, they’re not your friends!”…but I couldn’t help talkingto you. As much as you’ve always been a pain in my ass, I’ve never been able tohelp stopping whatever the hell I’m doing and talking to you. Paying attentionto you. My mother would probably say it was you “stepping out of line” that haddone it, but you know what?”

Niles had been slowly looking up even as she’d spoken, but itwas obvious that she had his full attention by the time she got to thatquestion. The pit in his stomach seemed to have – at least temporarily – filleditself. He didn’t dare call it hope, even if that was what it was.

He had to wait, and find out what Miss Babcock said nextfirst.

Her words came out like she felt liberated.

“I…I don’t really think I care. All those times that we’vehad – the fun ones, especially, like your friend’s wedding, or the BroadwayGuild Awards…they didn’t feel bad or wrong. My mother would’ve called themthat, but they weren’t. I liked doing those things with you, and I don’t feelembarrassed about them, even though God knows just saying it out loud iskilling me, right now…!”

It was her turn to look away, towards the floor. Even in thelower light of the storage room, Niles thought he could see a tinge of pink inher cheeks.

The not-hope feeling in his stomach faltered betweenstrengthening and shattering. Was she really blushing? She couldn’t be, couldshe? C.C. Babcock, Ice Queen of New York City and the Bitch of Broadway, wouldnever dream of blushing! Especially not over all the times she’d spent withhim!

But…if that wasn’t the case, then what else could she bedoing?

Did he have to test the waters and find out? Some might saythey were shark infested…

But how could he leave it all where it was, either? He’dcome so far, with so much courage plucked up that if it had been feathers froma bird, it would’ve been bald and ready to be stuffed for Thanksgiving by now.

He’d done all of this – nearly bankrupted their boss, gottenone of his closest friends into trouble with her husband and somehow pulled offa spectacular Broadway show – simply to tell her how he felt. Could he reallylive with himself if he let it all go to waste, because of a moment’shesitation at the last second?

Niles honestly didn’t think that he could.

So, he did what he might have imagined unthinkable, at onepoint in their relationship. He got up from where he was sat and walked overto sit down on the crate next to her. She looked at him the entire way over,and she didn’t stop even when he was sat down, barely half a foot of space betweenthem.

“I enjoyed those days, too, very much,” he said. “I’vealways wanted more of them…”

“Yeah. Me too,” she replied quietly, biting theinside of her lip as though deciding whether or not to say anything else. Then,she made up her mind. “To be honest, those times have been some of the bestI’ve ever had. Better than anything I could ever even dream of with…”

Her eyes dropped back to the floor again, clearly even moreembarrassed than only a few seconds ago, when she’d told him that she’d likedspending time with him.

It didn’t take a genius to work out which name would’vefilled the trailed-off silence.

Mr. Sheffield. She was talking about Mr. Sheffield…!

And…and she was saying that all the times they’d spenttogether – the nights out, the dancing, drinking, having fun – all meant moreto her than…than anything she’d ever imagined in her head!

He, the real-life butler Niles, had somehow managed to beatout the idealised version of Maxwell Sheffield. The one person he never thoughthe’d ever be able to compete with, in looks, or charm, or money, and yet he hadcome out on top. And not even some fantasy version, where he could hope to holda candle to their employer – just…regular old him!

It all sounded like a complete and utter dream come true;the kind that was normally heartbreaking in reality because you knew it neverwould, and yet here he was, living it out!

He even thought that he could feel the not-hope changing itsname.

“You…you really do mean that?” he asked, in awe as much ashe was in disbelief.

Miss Babcock looked at him briefly from the corner of her eye,then nodded, “Guess I finally figured I’ve been getting my priorities allscrewed up. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s ever happened.”

The butler frowned, his previous worries now turning to thefact that she was beating herself up over what she’d felt was right before.Hearing what her life had been like, when she was young and was being strongly influencedby her mother, somehow it all made sense that she would look for a rich man. Anyrich man, as long as he could prove his wealth and his connections. Mr. Sheffield had simply been the perfect candidate for a long checklist that theproducer had been given to carry around her whole life, whether she cared aboutwhat was on the list or not.

She’d probably convinced herself that she did care, simplyto make it easier. Not that it had turned out easier, but that was anothermatter entirely.

He let his hand slide along the prop crate, so it was closerto hers, “There’s no reason for you to be harsh with yourself over this.”

Miss Babcock sighed, shaking her head.

“You don’t have to make me feel better about it, Niles. I’mthe one who got it all wrong,” she said, shame permeating her tone. “Worst partis, I wouldn’t have even thought about it, if it weren’t for…all that stuffthat happened, back at Hanukkah…”

Niles winced minutely even at the mere thought of thatnight. The hours had stretched out for him in a way he’d never imaginedpossible, and the terror of it possibly turning into the worst night of hislife had hung over him like a curse. It was a curse that hadn’t been brokenuntil their nearly-lost loved ones had all piled in through the door, cold,hungry and exhausted, but mercifully alive.

Between the two of them, there had been a sort of unspokentruce that night. But even in a time when they probably could have spokenfreely, they had almost deliberately held back. They probably thought they wereprotecting themselves – protecting the game they had going on.

Now wasn’t the time for holding back, though. And the gamewasn’t worth protecting in that sense anymore, anyway.

“What did you think, that night?” he asked quietly.

“I was…scared. Well, more like terrified, actually,” sheadmitted, sounding like the words had been aching to come out of her mouth eversince she’d had the feeling. “I thought I was going to freeze to death in theback of that car. I gave it my best shot to act like everything was just fine –that everything was normal and okay. But the moment Maxwell and the Little One gottalking about what would happen if the car wasn’t found, it made me think.Hard. And don’t you dare say that’s a dangerous occupation for me.”

Niles shook his head, “I wasn’t going to.”

Miss Babcock looked uncomfortable for a moment, shufflingand shifting on the spot.

“Sorry; force of habit, I guess,” she said, beforecontinuing her explanation. “It…it made me think, and it made me realise that Iwasn’t thinking about…anybody in the car.”

Again, that was another blatant reference to their employer,quickly followed by her turning her eyes up and truly meeting his gaze for thefirst time in this conversation.

“But I was thinking about what I could be losing.”

It was obvious what she meant, even without her actuallysaying it. The words needed to tell him were probably too monumental, toosignificant and weighted with meaning in her mind to get out right then andthere. She needed time to process them, and he realised now that he understoodthat. He’d had far too long to mull over his own thoughts and feelings, but herswere only just starting to dawn in her conscious mind.

He wasn’t going to overwhelm her any more than she alreadyhad been by saying more than he needed to. He’d use her language – theirlanguage, perhaps? – and take it slowly.

“That was how I felt, that night. It accidentally slippedout, while we were on the phone to the police, looking for you all,” he toldher. “I covered my tracks, of course, but there was no coming back from it forme.”

He thought he heard the producer make a noise in the back ofher throat, but she gave no other reply. Instead, silence overtook the littleroom again.

Before it could drag on too long, the butler spoke up again,the last of his thoughts coming together in a way that made coherent sense, foronce.

“Maybe this play – for me, in some ways – wasn’t just about stayingnoticed. It took it further than that. Perhaps…perhaps I was worried about whatI could lose, too,” he said. “We’ve been going at this a long time, withoutreally talking or trying anything else. I knew that eventually, it would haveto end. You would find someone, like Chandler or…or Colin. Only they’d be evenbetter, this time, and all my chances, however slight, would’ve been used up. Andwe’ve already lost enough before now…”

His confession made him wonder if he’d tipped the scales toofar in the opposite direction, and he shut himself up as he waited for herreply.

Not for the first time that night, what he heard in returnwasn’t what he’d expected.

“We haven’t lost anything tonight.”

That made him look directly at her, “We haven’t…?”

“I don’t think so,” she turned herself – her entire bodythis time – so that she was facing him more directly, her leg leaning on theedge of the crate. “I, uh…I actually think it might be nice, to try somethingnew. To stop getting hung up on stuff that isn’t right, and going around incircles because of it. If we try to move forward, maybe we’ll reach a point wherewe both end up winning.”

Niles didn’t know if time had slowed so much that it feltlike his heart had stopped, or whether it had just exploded in a sort of silentfirework that burst in the feeling equivalents of bright reds and pinks, turningto vibrant greens and yellows, before sparkling away in glitters of gold.

His not moving (which came from shock and awe, nothing else)clearly sent off the wrong signal to Miss Babcock, because she cleared herthroat, looking awkward and embarrassed.

“If you still want to, obviously.”

That was when his hand finally dared to hold hers, whichsent her gaze straight back to his.

The butler’s voice was barely above a whisper, “I neverstopped wanting to.”

He didn’t know if he had leaned in first, or whether she wasalready there when his lips met hers. He didn’t particularly care, either. Allthat mattered was the feeling of her in his arms, which made their way aroundher lower back, as hers pulled him in for the kiss to deepen. He felt her arms wraparound his neck, and she moaned into his mouth as she let his tongue start toexplore, hers leaving him groaning as she started her own discoveries.

But it was only a start. They had to pull away for air far soonerthan either would have liked, but they stayed with their arms around oneanother, and it wasn’t long before Niles felt ready to go back in for anotherkiss.

Miss Babcock stopped him, however, teasingly placing afinger on his lips.

“We’re gonna have to get back in there sooner or later,Scrub Brush,” she said, her voice low and her eyes dark. “After-afterpartieshave to wait.”

Niles tried not to deflate too much; he knew she was right,after all. They had a whole room full of people who would have noticed thatthey hadn’t come back in by now. And even if most of them weren’t concerned forone reason or another, he could very easily imagine Fran coming back there tolook for them (read: to find out if her plan had worked just as she’d wanted).And the things he had in mind were the last thing he ever wanted her to see.

But he couldn’t help taking a particularly interested note atthe idea of the producer saying their “after-afterparty” simply had to wait. Forhow long? Did she want to test the waters more before they made the leap? He’dwait for as long as she wanted, obviously, but he also wanted to ensure thatthey were completely on the same page.

They’d been reading the same information in such different waysfor too long, now.

He kissed her fingertip, before pulling away to speak.

“For anything in particular?” he asked, taking her hand andkissing the palm.

“To see how the rest of the night goes,” she answered,getting up and pulling him to his feet playfully as she did. “If it turns out asgood as the play was, you might want to stick around.”

Niles’ eyebrow quirked, and he gave her a lopsided grin.

“And if it’s duller than dishwater?”

Miss Babcock started to grin in return, and she looped herarm in his to lead him out before she gave any sort of reply.

“Then we already know there’s an empty storage closet backhere, don’t we?”

#anon asks #the nanny #niles and cc #niles the butler #cc babcock #otp: butler bitch #otp: always been bitter together

[mittensmorgul]

8.08, Hunteri Heroici.

Thanks, Dabb, for taking one of the funniest episodes of s8 and using it to hide a rip-my-heart-out subplot.

DEAN: How you feeling, Cas? CASTIEL: I'm fine. DEAN: Well, I just – I – I know that when... I got puked out of Purgatory, it took me a few weeks to... find my sea legs. CASTIEL: I'm fine. DEAN: Don't get me wrong. I'm – I’m happy you're back. I'm – I’m freaking thrilled. It's just this whole mysterious-resurrection thing – it always has one mother of a downside. CASTIEL: [closes the journal] So, what do you want me to do? DEAN: Maybe take a trip upstairs. CASTIEL: To Heaven? DEAN: Yeah, poke around, see if the God squad can't tell us how you got out. CASTIEL: No. DEAN: Look, man, I – I hate those flying-ass monkeys just as much as you do, but – CASTIEL: [forcefully] Dean! I said no! After a pause, DEAN closes the laptop, walks over and sits on the edge of the other bed, facing CASTIEL. DEAN: Talk to me. CASTIEL: Dean, I... When I was... bad... and I had all those things – the... the leviathans... writhing inside me... I caused a lot of suffering on earth, but I devastated Heaven. I vaporized thousands of my own kind, and I – I – I can't go back. DEAN: 'Cause if you do, the angels will kill you. CASTIEL: Because if I see what Heaven's become – what I – [sighs] what I made of it... I'm afraid I might kill myself. SAM enters the room.

OWWWWWW. And also, Sam, you really need to work on your timing. This was two episodes in a row, dude...

But granted, he’s having a really hard time, too, which we mostly see through his personal flashbacks, lampshaded by this comment from an orderly at the nursing home about a catatonic-appearing patient:

ORDERLY: It's creepy, right? A lot of these people – they just tune out and live in their own heads. It's like maybe the real world is too much for them, and they just run and hide, you know? SAM: Hmm.

Because that’s basically what Sam’s flashbacks were-- the fact his entire relationship with Amelia was literally about running and hiding from reality. What shook that up for him was meeting her father, a military man, and feeling a bit like a judged outsider to a family dinner eerily reminiscent of the sort of thing Dean typically reminisces over. Amelia seems to have a very similar sort of childhood nostalgia for the sort of thing Dean would be happy to recreate from his own childhood. In Amelia’s case, it’s spaghetti with hot dogs. Tell me that doesn’t sound like a Dean meal. And Amelia’s dad directly reminds Sam of Dean by the way they open their beer bottles... Except for Sam, this is “Dean Lite” because hey, no monsters here!

I mean, think back to how they first met: Sam would’ve walked out after bringing the dog he hit into Amelia’s clinic, but she basically forced him to take responsibility for what he did. And rather than telling her he couldn’t be responsible for a dog, just travelling through, etc., he LET her force that responsibility on himself. And just... >.>

Dean and Cas share this exchange:

CASTIEL: Do you think Mr. Jones knows what's happening? DEAN: I don't know. Seems to me like the dude's living in a dream world.

And Sam flashes back to Amelia’s again, where he’s again accused of just running away from his problems, and literally using Amelia to do that.  But also... 

STAN: I'll dry. Is that your car outside – the Impala? SAM: Yeah, it was my dad's. STAN: Guy had good taste... for a jarhead.

Sam can’t even acknowledge the car was DEAN’S. Like he can’t even address the actual issue here. Sam’s not upset over losing his dad, you know? He’s not actively avoiding his dad’s memory...

Cas brings himself and Sam into Fred Jones’ internal cartoon world (where he’s run away from reality, literally). While Dean deals with the “reality” outside of the man using Fred for his own gain. There’s so much using in s8, so much manipulation. Cas is being used by Heaven and doesn’t have any idea consciously, just like poor Fred here:

CASTIEL: This is happening, Mr. Jones. They're using you. FRED: As what – some kind of a damn psychic CopperTop? You plug me in, and the whole world goes wacky? It doesn't work that way. SAM: How would you know? No offense, but it seems to me like you've been spending more time in here than you have... out there. FRED: You want to know what's the worst thing that can happen to a guy that's got a mind like I got? Losing it.

But this is the advice Sam gives him, which Cas painfully takes to heart, not really understanding just how deep under control by Heaven he already is. GAH:

SAM: ...take control. FRED: It's too hard! SAM: Look, it can be nice living in a dream world. It can be great. I know that. And you can hide, and you can pretend... [the background is now brightly colored rectangles] ...all the crap out there doesn't exist, but you can't do it forever because... eventually, whatever it is you're running from – it'll find you. [CASTIEL appears to be taking SAM’s words to heart.] It'll come along, and it'll punch you in the gut. And then... then you got to wake up, because if you don't, then trying to keep that dream alive will destroy you! It'll destroy everything!

Because to Sam, this is just his realization that he’d been doing exactly that-- avoiding his own problems which will always, always catch up with him. Which is exactly what Dean realized during his painful year at Lisa’s. Sadly for Sam, the narrative isn’t quite done flogging him yet... that’ll happen a couple episodes down the road yet... but heck... He’s getting closer.

SAM: You – you what, Cas? W-why can't you come with us? CASTIEL: I, um... I want to stay with Mr. Jones. Someone should watch over him for a few days just to be safe. DEAN: Okay, and then what? CASTIEL: Then I'm not sure. But I know I can't run anymore.

And AAARRGH. I mean, he doesn’t even know WHY he knows he can’t go back to Heaven now, or how Heaven is using him to “make amends.” But if it hadn’t been for what Sam said, he would’ve chosen to stay with Sam and Dean. Instead, he’s adrift even more now.

#spn 8.08 #s14 hellatus rewatch #winchester family dynamics #spiders georg of the tnt loop

[btsybrkr]

2020 Vision: What To Expect From The Next Decade (By Someone Who Has No Idea, Obviously.)

Happy New Year, all!! I had planned to do a little run-down last week of everything that happened in the 2010s, but instead succumbed to the existential struggle that comes with the week that follows Christmas Day, in which your time becomes largely swallowed up by asking yourself ‘what day is it?’ and ‘at what point am I supposed to stop living on a diet of alcohol and Quality Street?’. It’s festive purgatory, and you’re literally powerless to do anything other than sleep, eat, and moan that the shops are still playing Christmas music. That’s my excuse, anyway.

So, instead, I thought we’d say a collective “cinnabit, lad” to 2019 and a collective “what is UP, dude?” to the Roaring 20s 2.0, the only sequel that humanity has waited a whole 100 years for. Apart from Avatar 2, which I imagine will come out at some point in the 3020s.  What do we know so far about what the 2020s have in store for us? Obviously, not a lot, but as someone who successfully predicted the outcome of the last election, and the UK’s last four Eurovision losses - two things which I’m sure absolutely nobody ever saw coming - I thought I’d give out my own valuable speculation. Here’s what the 2020s might look like, according to me.

Politics

Let’s get it out of the way - we’re in a terrible state. At this point, every important issue is so divisive, that the nation is divided over everything, including whether we’re actually divided or not. Do I think we’ll become any less divided in the coming years, in a United Kingdom where the conversation is so often dominated by things we can absolutely never seem to agree on? Yes. We will have no choice. Why? 

All-out war.

Yes, I said it. In 2021, there will be all-out war. With America, probably. I don’t know why. Maybe Trump will get into an argument with Boris Johnson over who can manage to effortlessly look the most like a Viz caricature of themselves - they both already do somehow, I’m just saying they might disagree on which one of them is the best at it. Could be that, or possibly a more serious cause, to do with nuclear weapons or something, but I’d rather not think about that, because it’s not as funny as the Viz thing. And it’s more likely. So, we’ll pretend for now that we’re on the verge of the first pantomime, slapstick war the world has ever seen.

Anyway, while Trump and Johnson are beefing up a storm - picture Punch and Judy, except the puppets are in suits and have thinning, bright yellow hair - previously all-encompassing issues like Brexit will fall by the wayside, until Boris Johnson eventually decides to hand his notice in to focus on more important things, like beating Trump with a wooden spoon and chasing after the dog that stole all his sausages. After this, we’ll all come together to realise that if actual elected officials can’t do the job, then maybe we, the people, deserve our chance to test our political metal. Obviously, we can’t let just anybody have a go, but at the end of the year, Cosmopolitan magazine puts the traditional democratic process at number one on its ‘Leave It In 2021’ list, so we have absolutely no choice but to come up with something else, which brings me to...

Television And Film

2022 will start with a bang, with the debut of Simon Cowell���s new talent show format, So You Think You Can Be The Prime Minister?, hosted of course by Ant and Dec, with the aftershow on ITV2 being hosted by Jeremy Paxman. Contestants will line up in huge crowds to give judges Russell Brand, Susanna Reid, and, of course, Jesus S. Cowell himself (forgot to mention, Simon Cowell has been elected as the new Christ in this completely non-hypothetical universe, alright?) their opinions on hot political topics such as Brexit, the NHS, and, of course, whether a Jaffa Cake can really be classed as a biscuit or not. Each episode, contestants will take part in a live debate, themed around a different issue with every passing week. The two least popular contestants after the weekly phone vote will go head-to-head giving their own rendition of Running The World by Jarvis Cocker, with the worst performer being eliminated. I know a sing-off isn’t exactly relevant in a politics programme, but it’s Saturday night primetime so it’s still got to be at least somewhat entertaining, yeah?

Love Island will be back, of course - and not just with a Summer and Winter edition, but with an additional Spring and Autumn one for the 2024 schedule! This will be a win-win situation for the series producers, and for its viewers, as by 2027, ITV will run out of attractive under-35s to appear on the show, and members of the public will begin getting called up to appear - like with jury duty, except that ITV pay for you to have extensive cosmetic surgery first, so that you’re aesthetically pleasing enough for people to want to tune in, and so that you can maintain a successful career selling Bootea on Instagram afterwards. 

Films will also go through a renaissance in the 2020s, as the Hollywood big boys come to a conclusion that everything has just become a little too… blockbuster. To remedy this, they make the joint decision that, 100 years on, we should take ourselves back to the silent film era, which will surely create hundreds of jobs for mute people, therefore solving Hollywood’s problems with a lack of diversity in film. It’ll also give well-known TikTok creators a chance to make the leap into mainstream entertainment, as they’ll have spent so long lip-synching over the years that they’ll now be more qualified to star in these new golden age pictures than actual trained actors. Obviously, that sounds absolutely beyond comprehension, but look at Count Orlok in 1922’s Nosferatu. See his slender limbs, blank stare, gothic dress sense - in a way, he’s the original e-boy, and there’s plenty of them out there on TikTok now that could play the titular vampire just as well in a 100th anniversary remake, just with less neck-biting and more lip-biting. Trust me, it’ll be a hit.

Technology

Throughout the 2010s, there’s been a lot of talk about everyone spending too much time on their bloody phones, so, in 2024, Apple will try to combat this issue when they unveil perhaps their most innovative product to date - the iPhone XZ+, a phone which exists solely in the mind of its users. Not in a Black Mirror, chip-inside-your-brain sort of way, either. It is literally imaginary. It’s a phone that, instead of being a phone, is actually just the concept of a phone. Yes, for the small cost of £1,500 and six units of your own soul, you, too, can block the rest of the world out. How amazing is that? No more wasting hours of your day keeping in touch with friends and family. No more accessing a wealth of information, wherever you are, with a quick Google. No more blocking out the sound of cackling pre-teens on the bus by putting in your earphones and listening to music. These things are bad and must be stopped, before we become an entire species of communicating, bopping, learning zombies.

I think those must be bad things anyway, since you can rarely go a few seconds scrolling through social media without stumbling across a ‘woke’ meme about how the use of smartphones is destroying us, one notification at a time - memes which I’m absolutely sure were created and posted from a book or a potato or something. Otherwise they’d just be hypocritical, wouldn’t they?

Anyway, the iPhone XZ+. It’s the only thing you need inside your head this decade. Apart from a very real ever-growing sense of fear and doom, which you can get for free.

Sport

The next decade will see the Olympics and Paralympics take place in 2020, 2024 and 2028, as well as the Winter equivalents to both in 2022 and 2026. You’d think we’d be all Olympic-ed out with that, but in the absence of anything else that gets people feeling remotely patriotic in a purely nice way, the world will decide to come together to throw scaled-down, low-budget Olympic games in all the off-years this decade. 

Summer 2021 will see the start of the first ever Not-The-Actual-Olympics. Marked by a glamourous opening ceremony in a field in Loughborough, the opening will feature a series of performances from stars such as H from Steps, and will be attended by some people who aren’t the royal family, but really do look like them. Taking place over the 10-week long games will be thumb wars, arm wrestling, staring contests, and an exciting event in which competitors try to eat the most HobNobs they possibly can without the help of a glass of water to combat the extreme dry-mouth they end up with. It might sound underwhelming now, but if there turns out to be any truth in the other predictions I’ve made here, it might be just what you need to restore your faith in the everyday.

Happy New Year, Everyone

In all seriousness - not that the rest of this isn’t serious, because it is, and is definitely all going to happen - whatever the coming years bring, it’s important to remember that we have to take the good with the bad, to look after ourselves and each other, and to enjoy each day as much as we possibly can, even during the bits of life that leave us feeling a little less Gangnam Style than we did way back in 2012. Thanks, everyone, for reading my blog. I’ll be back again in a week or so to talk absolute arse about something else. Until then, I hope you all had a great 2019, and have an even better start to 2020. Cheers!

[darkdrabblings]

Masterlist

Okay, so I updated my Masterlist for you lovely people. The newer stories now have the posted dates on them because I’m not about to go back to the beginning and date everything. 

I have it organized by characters with the oldest work at the top. There’s also a section for Ficlets and Headcanons at the bottom when they feature multiple characters.

Please don’t judge me too harshly on my older writing, I’ve come a long way since then. I’ll keep updating this list as I put out more stuff.

Warnings: NSFW. The majority of these are noncon and/or dubcon. They also have a lot of abuse, both verbal and physical.

Enjoy! 

Last Update: 06/06/2018

Dark!Akande Ogundimu/Dark!Doomfist

Thoughts on Doomfist - Drabble.

Exhaustion - Ficlet on Doomfist using the reader as a toy.

Pent Up - Long drabble about a fresh out of prison Akande, fucking reader against the wall. [04.30.18]

Dark!Gabriel Reyes/Dark!Reaper

Captured Reader - Reaper headcanons.

Posesión - Dark!Reyes fic (1.6K). One of my first full-length fics. Not on AO3, requires revisions and cleanup work.

Trying to Dom Gabe - Imagine/Drabble on trying to dominate or tease Gabe.

Sweet Dreams - AO3 -  Sometimes all you need is a little peace and quiet with the one you love. Somnophilia fic.

Oral - Headcanons on Reaper giving/receiving oral.

Different Languages - Kink drabble.

Obsession - Drabble that started off as writing advice and then quickly spiraled out of control after the first two sentences.

A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing - AO3 -  Omegaverse. You hated being an omega. Luckily the suppressants you smoked kept you at bay, because the sheer thought of being forced to carry some alpha's brood sickened you to your core. At least you thought it did until you met Reaper.

Tamed - AO3 -  Omegaverse. You were an Overwatch medic doing your job when you happened to save the man known as Reaper. So you shouldn't be too surprised when he shows up unexpectedly at your door during the first day of your heat to give you his thanks. 

A Kind Alpha - Headcanons on how Reaper would treat the reader if she ever got pregnant. 

Tamed Headcanons -  Sombra gets ahold of another Omega’s scent and gives it to you. Maybe with this Reaper will be so distracted that he’ll let you go. 

Tamed: Side Story I - AO3 - A side-story about your Alpha leaving you plugged up before going off on a mission.

Differences - A couple of mini-drabbles regarding the differences between Gabriel and Reaper.

A Walk Along the Beach - Ficlet. The nicer Gabriel is out of the bedroom, the worse he’ll treat you when you return to it.

Welcome Home - Drabble. It’s been a long day and all you want to do is shower. Too bad Reaper has other plans in store for you.

His O-Face - Ficlet. There’s nothing sexier than being held down by the Blackwatch Commander as he pumps his seed into you.

Claws - Drabble. Reaper makes you prepare his fingers before he has his way with you.

Big Family - Drabble. Gabe having been raised Catholic and coming from a huge family, and now wanting a huge family himself.

Breeding - A Short drabble on how we all want Reaper to breed us.

Master - Drabble. 

Mistletoe - A small drabble as a thank you to the anon who commissioned a picture for me of Gabe for Christmas. [12.19.17] 

I Want you To Look At Me - Fic (2.6K). Sentence starter request. [01.25.17] 

Dark!Genji Shimada

Kidnapped reader - Pre-Cyborg!Genji Ficlet on how Genji would kidnap his s/o.

Reunion - Fic (1.5K) on Genji’s reactions on finding his s/o who had got away during his youth now that he’s a cyborg. Not on AO3 yet; requires revisions and cleanup work.

Trap - Ficlet based on “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who fell for the trap. It’s your own fault.”

Anal - Kink drabble.

Eyes On Me - AO3 -  Genji was hoping for you to have finally learned something from his nightly visits. Seems like he's going to have to step up your training.

Personality - Headcanons.

Jealousy - Headcanons.  Genji flirting with a woman who is way more handsy than the girls he usually picks up are, and instead of the typical pain of betrayal at seeing him enjoying the attention, instead is cold fury.

Dark!Hanzo Shimada

Lifeless - A tragic accident happens when you upset Hanzo for the final time.

Young and Present Hanzo - Headcanons on differences in behaviors between the two.

The Dark!Shimada Family - Part II -  Hanzo/Reader headcanons as sort of the deadly Gomez and Morticia Addams of the Japanese crime syndicates.

Edging - Kink drabble.

In This Life and the Next - Ficlet. Hanzo watches his pregnant S/O commit suicide. Heartbroken, he decides to end his own life, figuring that if he couldn’t have you in this one, he would join you in the next one.  Not on AO3 yet; requires revisions and cleanup work.

A Dragon’s Tears - AO3 - Fic. You had one job to do, and you couldn't even do that right. A story of the trials and tribulations that Hanzo imposes on his favorite pet.

A Nicer Hanzo - Headcanons.

Painful Sex - Headcanons.

Reward -  Picture Drabble. Hanzo loves having his little bride at his mercy, but if you behave, he’ll reward you by giving you control over some of the binding. 

Marked by the Dragon - AO3 -  Hanzo doesn't like it when his favorite pet runs away, especially when it's to some sleazy motel in the middle of nowhere. It's a shame too, just when he was finally getting attached, you had to go and ruin everything.

Pet - Ficlet. You’ve been asking Hanzo for a dog for some time now, and it looks like he’s finally given in.

Pregnant Runaway - Ficlet. Hanzo’s reaction to you running away while carrying his child.

Requirements - Headcanons. 

Kyūketsuki - AO3 -  When Hanzo was cursed to walk the world as a vampire after murdering his brother, he was abandoned by everyone he knew. Finally, after centuries of merely existing you came along with the taste of something he hadn't had in centuries.

Horde - Fic (1K).  You escape after finally giving Hanzo his child, figuring that he would have no use for you now that he finally got what he’d been after. However, you forgot one important thing, dragons are very possessive creatures.  Not on AO3 yet; requires revisions and cleanup work.

An Unexpected Surprise - Ficlet. Sequel to Horde. Even the Dragon of the South Wind has his moments of kindness.

A Dragon’s Tears: Wounded - AO3 - Chapter Two. You can no longer deal with the pain in both of your hearts and decide to try to leave your dragon one final time.

A Dragon’s Tears: Confession - AO3 - Chapter Three. How’s a sadistic dragon supposed to react when you slip up and tell him your true feelings.

Ramsey Bolton Vibes - Headcanons on Hanzo’s treatment of his favorite pet.

To Love A Demon - AO3 - Kinktober. A one-shot spin-off to A Dragon’s Tears.  It had been a year since you ran away from the Shimada clan and were living on your own after selling your soul to a lesser demon to escape Hanzo. It's too bad that you forgot that Hanzo would walk through Hell to get you back.

Female Child - Drabble. What if Hanzo’s firstborn turned out to be a girl.

The Noodle Dragons - Fic (1K). For Hanzo’s dragons, it’s never too early to start the day. A fluff fic based on events before A Dragon’s Tears. 

Fuck You. - Ficlet. Hanzo reminds you who your Master is after a small outburst.

Risk - Fic (1.4K). What would happen if it was medically impossible for you to carry a child to term? Would he risk it anyway or just get rid of you?

Dragon - Drabble. “I want Dragon!Hanzo to keep me prisoner n raw me every night.”

Daughters - Headcanons. How would Hanzo feel about having a daughter instead of a son?

Voicelines - Drabble. You tried to move away from his touch, but with both of your hands tied above your head and the balls of your feet barely touching the floor, it was easier said than done.

Laserpointers & Dragons - Some headcanons about the noodles favorite toy.  [11.13.17]

A Fitting Punishment - Drabble. You got your period, yet again, which means that you have failed to provide him with an heir. [11.13.17]

Groans - Long Drabble. Dragon!Hanzo. Imagine the noises the dragon makes as he breeds you night after night. [11.21.17] 

Please, Kill Me - Drabble. Imagine after he 'punishes' reader she just pleads with the dragons to kill her/find another because she can't deal with Hanzo anymore. [11.27.17] 

Angel - Drabble. Oni!Hanzo reacts to falling in love with an angel reader. [11.27.17] 

Burn - Drabble. “I want mid-life crisis piercing daddy to eat me out until I'm suffering some intense beard burn.” Same tho? [12.22.17] 

Don’t Make A Sound - Ficlet.  “Don’t make a sound. Do you really want them to see you like this?” [01.22.17]

Masterpiece - Fic (1.4K). Hanzo reminiscing on the best of times and worst of times with you while you sleep. [03.09.18]

Okami - AO3 - Fic (1.5K). The wolf hunts for his prey, especially on the night of the full moon. [04.02.18]

Scion - AO3 -  Maybe if you had been like the other women who welcomed him into their bed with open arms then maybe he wouldn’t have had to resort to such means. But now, the soft mat of the tatami on your back was the only small comfort of a meeting gone awry. [04.08.18]

To Love a Demon: Purgatory - AO3 - A place between heaven and hell, that’s exactly where Hanzo wants to keep you. Sequel to To Love a Demon. [05.24.18]

Dark!Jack Morrison/Dark!Soldier 76

It Wasn’t You - First thing I ever posted on this blog!

A Second Chance - AO3 -  He'd been watching you from the shadows for a while now. Protecting and keeping you safe from a distance. Because in you, he saw a second chance to finally recover what he lost in the fall of Overwatch, a sense of home. Tumblr version now updated to match the revised AO3 version.

DubCon - Kink drabble.

Face-Sitting - Kink drabble.

Pussy Worship - Kink drabble.

Biter - Headcanons on Clit "So help me I will rip this goddamn thing off if you don't gimme" biting with our resident daddy.

Pregnancy Fluff -  Dark!Jack finds out that you’re pregnant with his child and he just does a complete 180.

A Special Invitation - AO3 - After receiving an invitation to the prestigious Annual Overwatch Charity Ball, you decide to take Jesse as your date. It’s a good thing the Commander’s there to explain why you got invited in the first place.

Right Here - AO3 - Most people would have been over the moon if the fantastic Strike Commander happened to notice them. Most people didn’t know what the hell they were talking about. [04.17.18]

Dark!Jesse McCree

Lesson - AO3 - You liked the cowboy get up. You really did. If only you hadn’t hit it and quit it.

Young and Blackwatch McCree - Headcanons on our favorite cowboy from back in the day.

Molded - Headcanons on McCree being such a narcist that he tries to mold his desired prey into his own image, physically and mentally. 

Arrogant McCree - Headcanons on how McCree would tackle male vs. female reader. 

Breast and Nipple play - Kink drabble.

Bondage/Cloth Gagging - Kink drabble.

Pussy Worship - Kink drabble.

A Warm Welcome Home - AO3 - He just missed you is all. Some of that good ol’ deepthroating.

Good Luck Charm - Angst Ficlet.  You know how McCree always says that the Route 66 map makes him feel uneasy and how he shouldn’t have come back there? Here’s a small story that explains why.  Not on AO3 yet; requires revisions and cleanup work.

Demon/Werewolf McCree - Long drabble about being dicked down at the same time by both Demon and Werewolf McCree.

Bitch - AO3 -  You're jealous of McCree always getting the great missions. And when he takes another one that belonged to you, you can't help but insult him behind his back. Look's like he's going to have to teach you who's really in charge.

Where’s My Hug At? - Drabble. You just know McCree’s that type of guy.

Troubadour - AO3 - Song-Fic with our favorite cowboy. “...I'll be an old troubadour when I'm gone.” 

Infatuation - Ficlet. McCree loves showing just how much he loves you, he just expects you to say it back.

Mission Failure - AO3 -  Jesse won't let you feel bad for yourself after another failed mission. In fact, he doesn't like the fact that you're ignoring him to throw a pity party for yourself. Lucky for you, the cowboy knows just how to cheer you up.

Voicelines - Drabble. Jesse doesn’t like it when you tease him, looks like he’s going to have to teach you a lesson.

Thicc!McCree - Drabble that started it all.

Thicc!McCree Cuddle - Drabble.

Thicc!McCree rawdoggin - Ficlet on the beefy cowboy having his way with you.

Thicc!McCree and Coke cans - Long Drabble.

Scratches - Drabble about Werewolf!McCree

Oh, That’ll Do Just Fine - Drabble.  McCree mumbling his favorite line in your ear as you scream when he hilts you.

McCree with a smol!reader - Headcanons and a drabble on how Jesse would be with a kind and small s/o.  [11.13.17] 

Pregnant - Headcanons. Have some smut with Werewolf!McCree fucking a reader who’s heavily pregnant with his pups. [12.05.17] 

This Is Where You Belong - Fic (1K). Sentence starter request. [12.23.17] 

Dark!Junkrat

F.R.E.A.K. - Headcanons

Catching His Prey - Headcanons.

Dark!Reinhardt

Forced Marriage - Headcanons for a forced marriage with our favorite German granddaddy. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Domestic - Drabble.

Young!Reinhardt - Fic (1K) on a forced marriage with our blonde crusader [11/09/17]

Poly!Ships 

Poly!Headcanons - Poly!McHanzo/Poly!Reaper76/Poly!Gency - Headcanons on life with our favorite ships.

Permission  - Poly!McHanzo -  Another one my first stories from my main blog.

Recruit - Poly!McGenji - A long drabble when of when Blackwatch’s resident Cowboy and Cyborg first met you.

A New Toy - Poly!ShimadaBros - No Shimadacest here guys. Just a simple ficlet on what would happen if Genji originally has you abducted and Hanzo's dragons sniff you out before he can even get past second base.

Confession Ask - Poly!McGenji -  A drabble on Jesse using your body for his own pleasure and then passing you over to Genji for some sloppy seconds.

Race - Poly!McHanzo - Headcanons and a full-length fic on which of the guys knocks you up first.

Tie - Poly!McHanzo - Fic (2.6K). Congratulations! It looks like the guys succeeded in knocking you up and it sounds like it’s going to be twins.  Not on AO3 yet; requires a lot of revisions and cleanup work.

Bonded - Poly!McRein - Headcanons on being in a forced relationship with two overpowering men.

Divorced Parent’s Treatment - Poly!McHanzo/Poly!Reaper76 - Two fics (Poly!McHanzo = 1.2K) (Poly!Reaper76 = 1K) based on what would happen when you try to play one man against the other.

Rage - Poly!McHanzo - Drabble on Hanzo’s POV during the Divorced Parent’s Treatment.

Drabbles/Ficlets with multiple characters

Stockholm Syndrome - Hanzo, McCree, and Reaper - Three ficlets based on a kidnapped reader who slowly grows to have feelings for our dark boys.

Reader trying to fight - McCree and Reaper -  Ficlets. What if in your struggles you kicked them in the face super hard to get away, fighting for your life, thinking only of how you are about to be murdered?

Trying to get you pregnant vs. Happy accidents - Gabriel, Jack, McCree, Hanzo, Lucio, and Junkrat - Drabbles.

Size Difference Kinks - Doomfist, Jesse, Gabriel, Jack, and Reinhardt Drabbles.

Pain Kink/Pain Tolerance - Jesse, Doomfist, Reaper, Hanzo, and Reinhardt - Drabbles.

Love Me or Hate Me - Hanzo, Gabriel, Jack, Doomfist, Junkrat, Jesse, Genji, and Reinhardt - Drabbles on whether or not the guys care about your true feelings towards them.

Persuasion Techniques - Jesse, Genji, Junkrat, Reinhardt, Hanzo, Akande, Jack, and Gabriel - Drabbles on how you persuade the guys to give you what you want.

Size Kink: Pregnancy Edition - Doomfist, Jesse, Gabriel, Jack, and Reinhardt - The guys love how your belly is much more pronounced on your smaller frame.

First Time Holding Children - McCree, Hanzo, and Gabriel - Three ficlets about the men’s reactions to holding their long-awaited children for the first time.

Praising - Hanzo, Doomfist, Genji, and McCree - Drabbles on who would praise and tell you filthy things as they dominated you.

Clean Up - Reaper and Hanzo - Ficlets on the men not letting you clean yourself up after public sex.

Falling in Love - McCree, Jack, and Hanzo - Headcanons and drabbles about the men falling in love with their toy. [11.13.17]

Break-Ups - McCree, Hanzo, and Reaper - Drabbles on how the Dark! boys would treat a s/o that is openly grieving their previous partner. [11.16.17] 

Jealousy - McCree, Jack, and Hanzo - Headcanons and drabbles about the Dark! boys and their possessive natures. [12.05.17] 

I Love You - McCree and Reaper - a couple of ficlets on the men reactions on you saying you love them in your sleep. [02.27.18]

Headcanons with multiple characters

Gabriel Reyes and Jesse McCree -  HC’s for your fave dark ow characters and crazy kinks.

Gag for disrespect ft. Reaper, Soldier 76, Hanzo, McCree, and Reinhardt

Ass or Tits ft. The Shimada Brothers - HCs on what the Shimada boys would be attracted to.

Forced Anal - McCree, Genji, and Hanzo - Err...I think the title says it all.

Zarya Headcanons - HCs of our favorite Russian.

You will learn to love me - Reinhardt and Pharah - HCs based on a sentence starter.

Who leaves you in a worse shape? - Reinhardt and Doomfist 

Dark Fluff - Jack, Gabriel, and Hanzo - Some of that good stuff with the meaner guys, where they actually take the time to clean you up or are sickly sweet. 

Lactation Kink - McCree and Hanzo 

Talon Pregnancy Facilities - Reaper and Doomfist 

Something to remember you by - Jesse, Hanzo, and Junkrat - Sometimes, the guys like to take things that belong to you to hold them over until they’re back inside you once more.

Vampires - Gabriel, Jack, Doomfist, and Jesse - What if the guys were vampires?

Attention-Seeking Dragons - Hanzo and Genji -  How would Hanzo or Genji even take it if you were more affectionate/actually paid more attention to the dragons than them?

No Sex While Pregnant - Jesse, Hanzo, Jack, and Gabriel -  How the men react if they were told their pregnant captive needed to keep relaxed, so no sex for the safety of the baby.

Panic and Depressive Episodes - Jesse and Hanzo - How the guys comfort you during your darkest times.

Obedience - Genji and Hanzo - How the Shimada brothers reward you when you finally begin to listen to them; sometimes even going above and beyond the call of duty.

Chub/Thick Girls - McCree, Doomfist, and Junkrat - The boys who appreciate a th i c c girl to make their own.

Dark Daddies - Doomfist, Gabriel, Hanzo, McCree - How some of the guys would be like as father’s.

Period - Reaper and McCree - A couple of headcanons on the guys who would be into period sex.

Inside - Hanzo, Jesse, Doomfist, and Jack - Who would stay inside after finishing?

Sons or Daughters - Who would prefer having daughters or sons.

Momentos - Hanzo, McCree, and Reaper -  You know those possessive sociopathic assholes don’t care how ridiculous you look, they want to make sure that everyone knows you belong to them.

Halloween - McCree, Reaper, and Hanzo -  What would these fuckbois dress their toys as and who would go the extra mile to assure that the costumes are humiliating?

#Masterlist #Headcanons #Drabbles #Ficlets #Fics #Overwatch #Dark!Overwatch #Dark!Akande #Dark!Doomfist #Dark!Gabriel Reyes #Dark!Reaper #Dark!Hanzo #Dark!Jack Morrison #Dark!Soldier 76 #Dark!Genji #Dark!McCree #Dark!Junkrat #Dark!Reinhardt #Poly!McHanzo #Poly!McGenji #Poly!McRein #Poly!Gency #Poly!Reaper76 #Poly!ShimadaBros #doomfist reader #gabriel reyes reader #reaper reader #hanzo reader #jack morrison reader #soldier 76 reader

[amirosebooks]

spn meme at work

Stole this shamelessly from @helianthus21​ and @bend-me-shape-me tagged me.

1. What season did you start watching Supernatural? I wanted to watch it when it first came out in 2005 (or whenever) cause a lot of my friends on livejournal were watching it back then, but I didn’t have tv and internet tv streaming just... wasn’t here yet. Then, when it actually started to be a thing, the show was delving into the whole angels vs demons thing and that didn’t appeal to me at all. (Though, tbh, aliens don’t appeal to me either but X-Files is my forever ride or die show, so...) I finally got around to giving the show a shot in... 2014? I remember watching Tumblr freak out live as the angels fell and I started making my husband watch it with me on Netflix a couple weeks later. He got through 6 seasons before tapping out and I got to them going to Purgatory before my life imploded to the point that I had to take a nearly year long break from it. I binged the rest of the show at the beginning of this year.

2. Who was the first character you fell in love with? Dean. I knew he’d be my favorite back when I was watching the fandom form on livejournal so that wasn’t a surprise at all.

3. Who was a character that you hated at first but grew to love? Oh, I think I’ve hated all of them (including the brothers) at one point or another in the show, but I also love them all. Maybe Crowley? I can’t remember if I hated him though...

4. Which character would you most want to be in a long-term relationship with? Eh, none of them.

5. If you could go on a date with just one character, which one would you choose? Same as the answer above. Wait, no, I take that back. Abbadon. That would be awesome.

6. What would you do on that date? Well, when a girl likes a girl... lol I don’t know, whatever terrible thing she wanted tbh.

7. Which character would you most want to be like? Charlie was amazing. Lisa deserved so much better and was amazing. Sam is such a fucking optimist for all the shit he’s gone through.

8. Which character would you most want to see brought back from the dead? CHARLIE CHARLIE CHARLIE!!! And Kevin and Eileen!!! And Alicia, because her death gave me a weird sort of bitterness.. she was such a fun character with so much potential behind her and without her Max is just a depressing character to me so yeah. <-- I’ll take this answer too. I’ll add John in for a temporary back from the dead thing for closure.

9. Which character would you most like to punch? Metatron. I didn’t care for his character at all. Lucifer could be erased from existence at this point and I’d clap and throw confetti too.

10. Who is your absolute favorite character? Dean and Cas. I love the female villains, but TPTB have no idea what to do with female villains so they’ve always been under utilized. And Benny, I lurve Benny.

11. Which “Big Bad” do you think was the worst? Lucifer can just go away now. I don’t care about him at all anymore. Metatron was boring.

12. Which character are you most like? Dean in a lot of ways. With some of Charlie’s sweetness and Abaddon’s bravado mask.

13. What death hit you the hardest? Charlie because it was just so dumb an unnecessary. Same to Eileen. And Kevin. Alicia with the above mentioned reason too. Bobby. <-- Keeping this answer too. I’d like them to give Mary some real growth too, since she was always the biggest bullshit death before they brought her back. Benny too.

14. What season finale hit you the hardest? Fuck if I can remember right now. Probably season 3 at the time.

15. What are your ten all-time favorite episodes? Oh hell. I don’t remember episode names for the most part, but: Mystery Spot because Gabriel/Groundhog’s Day; the one where Demon!Dean went after Sam with a hammer; the LARPing one; any of the episodes with Benny/Purgatory flashbacks; Gabriel’s first episode (I think that was this one) where they boys were describing the case from each other’s point of view or whatever... it was a great rendition of “Bad Blood” from The X-Files and made me nerd out; Cas’s fall episode where he was first dealing with being human and coping with it tore my fucking heart out and was awesome even though I know it’s wanky too; the episode where Metatron kidnapped Cas and Cas got to talk to Gabriel again too.

16. What’s been your favorite season? 8/9/10 that whole stretch is awesome for me.

17. Who is your favorite angel? Castiel  and Gabriel.

18. Who is your favorite demon? Abaddon and Crowley

19. Who’s your favorite evil character? Abaddon and Bela, though the latter was more grey than a truly evil character.

20. Do you have any Supernatural ships? Destiel, Saileen and I can get down with some Sabriel once in a while.

21. Who’s your favorite supporting actor? I loved Charlie and Abaddon and Chuck as God and Gabriel.

22. What’s your favorite quote from the show? Sam’s speech about feeling too unclean to ever go on a quest killed me. I know there are others, but my brain hasn’t held onto them.

23. If you could cast one famous actor in an episode of SPN, who would you choose? I’m down with the John Borrowman as the Impala idea, though I think I’d prefer it if she were played by a black woman instead of him. Or that they went for the fanon idea of the Impala appearing different to different people, so Borrowman for Castiel and someone like the actress who plays Maize on Lucifer for Dean and a Mary look a like for Sam.

24. If you could write your own episode, what kind of creatures would you like to see included? I’d love to see a creature that sends the boys back in time and they have to get help from Castiel in his female vessel that they showed from season 12.

25. Who’s your favorite girl that Dean’s hooked up with? Lisa or Cassie. He loved both of them and the boy deserves nice things.

26. Who’s your favorite girl that Sam’s hooked up with? Eileen (even if they didn’t actually hook up); Amelia; Sarah Blake and Ruby 2.0... even though it was an unhealthy hookup on the show, you could see their chemistry and she’s hot AF.

27. What are some of your favorite convention moments? I don’t really keep tabs on the conventions.

28. If you were going to guest star (or be a recurring guest star) on SPN, how would you want your character to be described? I’d play a villain all day long. I’d be happy with some kind of Dark!Charlie / Abbadon hybrid character.

29. What do you hope to see in the next season? To see Sam get to explore the shit he actually likes instead of what he thinks will redeem himself because of his guilt over the demon blood thing (which is not his fault). For Cas to find his place and his inner strength again. For Dean to accept and embrace the fact that he can have happy things. For Mary to choose where she wants to be and how she wants to be.

30. - 40. If you had to choose…

Bobby or John? Bobby

Bela or Ruby? Bela

Jess or Madison? Jess

Jo or Lisa? Shit. You can’t make me choose.

Charlie or Kevin? Charlie (I never connected well with Kevin, but that was probably due to the choppy nature of my first watch through cutting up his storyline.)

Balthazar or Ash? Balthazar

Cas or Crowley? Cas

Ben or Claire? Claire because she’s more of an actual character than Ben was. I loooooove Dean with Ben, but we never got to get to know Ben.

Jody or Donna? Oh fuck you, I won’t choose between these ladies either. lol

Sam or Dean? Dean, dammit.

tagging: @morningstarcas; @larchwood; @mittensmorgul; @casbakespie and anyone else who wants to do the thing

#spn #memes #about ami

[professor-maka]

Trouble

This is a (VERY LATE) holiday fic for my non-fandom writing group SS, flutterby_cupcake_26 on AO3.

It’s SoMa. It’s sweet, sad, and sappy. I hope you find some enjoyment even if it’s not your fandom or pairing, and I’m so so so sorry for being the worst latest SS EVAH!

Thanks go to @sahdah for the eyes, the film suggestion, and also for doing a silly awesome thing when we talked about no shave November.

Sahdah’s no shave November post can be found here.

Read on AO3 or FFN.

—

Fuck no shave November, that’s all he has to say. Fuck no shave November, fuck Black Star for goading him into that ridiculousness, and most of all, fuck Maka for being so damned earnest, and so damned cute when she’s so damned earnest that he never has the heart to say no when it actually matters to her. Not that he really denies her anything much ever.

No, really, fuck Maka. He wishes. Which is probably the reason he’s in this mess. Well, more like sappy, gross, sentimental feelings. Refer back to that whole generally-forgets-the-word-no-when-she’s-around thing.

The girl is definitely trouble.

With an exaggerated sigh, Soul scowls at his own face in the mirror. Yeah, alright, he’s got a nice, full, white beard since he’d been too lazy to shave it off right away. And his usual mop of white hair under the silly red velvet cap. And a soft red suit now stuffed at the belly. So maybe he can pass for pop culture Santa, except the whole red eyes and mouth full of oddly sharp teeth that make him look more like Satan than Santa–hey, only a few letters off, really.

He grimaces at his own reflection, and actually, that’s better than the scowl that would surely send kids screaming for the hills. Makes him look just that bit less like the devil posing as jolly old Saint Nick.

“So are you coming out?” A voice calls from the other side of the dressing room door. Is he? No. Definitely no. Being seen in public this way, even in a lame costume shop smack in the middle of a run down strip mall, is surely some form of social suicide, good bye cool, goodbye dignity, goodbye self-respect.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says instead with another exaggerated sigh, his inability to say no to the girl on the other side of the door biting him in the ass for the umpteenth time this month alone.

Taking that last step to the door, Soul twists the knob and haltingly swings it open.

Ah, there she stands, his reason for the season, his cruel, cruel mistress, leaned so casually against the wall that he might be looking for new jeans rather than sealing his social suicide. Not that he’s ever been much for people. Goodbye, cruel world!

“Oh my god, Soul, you look–you look–”

Her grin is stretched so wide across her face that he’s sure it has to hurt, green eyes sparkling, and his heart does loop de loops in his chest cavity. Yes, Maka is trouble and he is in trouble, as usual.

“–Ridiculous?” Soul says before she can, the scowl firmly back in place in spite of the way her smile does funny things to his insides.

“I was going to say ‘adorable,’ but just at the moment, with that sour puss, you look like you want to maim me.”

Well, he sort of does. Not maim, but mark, maybe. Touch definitely. Then again, he always wants that with her, the unobtainable, so that’s easy enough to tamp down on. No, even more than that, just at the moment Soul wants to wither and die, or maybe disappear, anything to diminish the humiliation he feels as two teen girls trying on some sort of skimpy elf get ups come out from another dressing room and start giggling his way.

“Whatever.” He shrugs as Maka glares at the girls, and unlike his scowl, that sends them scampering back into their dressing room. Go figure.

“I told you this wouldn’t work–can we go now?”

“It’ll work if you can refrain from glaring at the world for a whole hour of your life.” She saunters up and puts a hand on his chest, stroking the material of the fuzzy red coat. Maka herself has donned an elf costume–short festive dress, pigtails, ears. She looks adorable. His scowl softens considerably at her proximity.

“Doubtful.” Soul offers her a flat stare.

“Do it for the kids?”

This earns her an eyeroll even if he knows she knows that yes, he is a marshmallow on the inside, and yes, he would indeed humiliate himself to make sick kids smile even if no one else on the planet but her might realize that. Well, maybe Wes, but he’s not here to back her claim.

“Then do it for the reward?”

“Reward?” He’s already going to do it and they both damn well know it, but hell, may as well get something for the trouble and complete loss of cool.

“Mmm hmmm,” she hums and smiles sweetly. “I’ll bake your favorite cookies.”

Maka’s a good baker and pretty much never bakes. His stomach rumbles at the thought. “It’s a start,” he mutters.

“And…” Her hand continues to stroke at the material of the red coat.

“And?”

“I’ll let you pick the movie tonight. Any movie, and I won’t say a word. Or retaliate.”

Well, that’s also something. It’s not his turn, and even when it is, if Soul picks something he knows Maka won’t like, she will pick the worst historical romance bullshit she can find the week after. There’s only so much coy flirting he can take, really, and the trite classical scores always give him childhood flashbacks he could do without.

“Getting warmer,” the concession is grumbled.

“And, I’ll rub your back while we watch the movie.”

Ding ding ding we have a winner! Movie, cookies, and backrub with Maka. She’s hit the trifecta, and fuck it all if that sly smile doesn’t say she knows it.

Well, then.

“Fine, you win,” he grumble-sighs, and it’s only half for show because while he dreads the next hour, he has an evening of bliss ahead of him.

In the end, Soul supposes, an hour of Santa suit purgatory is a small price to pay.

—

A motorcycle ride later and they’re at the hospital where Maka volunteers, picking up service hours to brighten up her med school applications.

At least riding through town as Santa on the bike with a cute elf plastered to his back had been cool. Sort of.

She gets off the motorcycle, long leg swinging over, then grins his way, eyes bright, holding out her hand expectantly after he himself gets off to put down the kickstand.

Fuck that smile is trouble. It never bodes well, makes him weak kneed, weak willed, stupid.

Still, as Maka drags him into the building, her hand warm in his, Soul thinks it’s probably worth it to earn that smile–and especially for cookies and back rubs. Adjusting the pillow in his suit as they roll up to the first room slated for a visit from Kris Kringle himself, having mostly avoided notice on the way up, he figures how bad can it be? He’s never minded kids. They’re snotty and gross, sure, but also innocent. They tend to bring out his more protective side–as long as they aren’t trying to share their snot hands with him.

Of course, the fact they’ll expect close contact–hugs and lap sitting–had slipped his mind. The first little girl, recovering from heart surgery, offers him a sloppy wet cheek kiss after gushing about how much she wants a puppy. The kid is wide eyed and adorable, so Soul manages not to cringe and wipes his cheek only when she’s not looking.

Maka’s smile, soft and approving, is worth a bit of slobber.

It goes pretty much like that for the next thirty minutes, lots of little hands and excited faces and kids recovering from ailments of various severity.

Really, Soul had expected worse, so when one of the little turds–a kid recovering from a tonsillectomy of all things–manages to rack him in the balls as he leaps onto his lap unexpectedly, the fact an involuntary grimace sends the sandy haired little boy screaming hoarsely from the room about demon Santa isn’t exactly shocking. Soul is actually surprised that he hasn’t terrified more than one–but then, he’s managed to keep a tight lipped smile in place most of the visit.

He does feel a little bad about scaring a kid. Or maybe a lot bad. The sympathetic squeeze of his hand Maka offers just after helps, though, and he makes the rest of his rounds even more careful to keep his teeth out of sight. No need to give the poor things nightmares.

Feeling pretty good about the whole thing even with the humiliation of sporting a cheesy red suit, he reaches the last few rooms, the last few kids who signed up for a visit with Santa today. This one is in the cancer ward, and as the concept of kids with cancer slams into him, suddenly, being born a partial albino with unnaturally sharp teeth doesn’t seem so bad.

Most of the kids have a good prognosis, at least. Most of them will likely live.

It’s when he gets to the last room, the sickest kid, that it hurts.

The kid is devoid of any hair, and Soul isn’t sure if they’re a boy or a girl with a name like Jade, not that it matters.

Looking up with tired brown eyes as Santa and his elf enter, the kid manages a weary smile.

“Santa, you came!” they gasp, voice high and raspy. “Mama said you would but I wasn’t sure because it’s not Christmas yet, but you came!”

“Course I came,” Soul says gruffly, hand moving half up to ruffle non existent hair before lowering again sheepishly. “Couldn’t let down someone at the top of my nice list.”

“Really?” Deep brown eyes go wide.

“Really really,” Soul confirms, and feels Maka squeeze the hand she’s been holding for three rooms straight. She gives him a loaded look as the child continues to stare in wonder. “So, what would you like for Christmas this year, little one?”

“That’s easy” The kid’s face lights up. “I just want to get better! You can do that, right Santa?”

A punch to the gut would have hurt less. “I–I mean–”

“Santa will do everything he can to help!” Maka cuts in, voice too high, too cheerful. “But since you’ve been so good, is there anything else you’d like?”

A vigorous nod does nothing to alleviate the clenching fist that holds his heart. He can’t breathe. “Uh huh. A pony. So I can ride when I’m better!”

He feels a hard squeeze to his hand, so he stammers out, “I’ll–see what I can do. Anything else?”

The kid blinks, possibly awed at so much choice.”Maybe a 3DS for until I’m better?”

Managing a nod and a tight smile, Soul reaches down to pat the kid’s shoulder. “Sounds like a good list. I’ll do my best.”

After a hug, they leave the room, and as they do, midway through the hall, Soul tugs Maka to a stop.

“Do ya think–” he licks too dry lips. “I mean, kid will be okay, right?”

“I–” she squeezes the hand she still hasn’t let go, shakes her head. “It doesn’t look good, but it could happen. And–seeing you–seeing Santa–hope is a big part of healing. You did a good thing, Soul.”

Maybe. Sure doesn’t feel like it just now. Internally, he resolves to talk to Maka later about connecting with the parents, maybe call his own parents if money is an object. He can’t cure cancer, but the other shit could happen.

He may not be the real Santa, but he isn’t Satan either. This much, he can do.

Soul’s heart is heavy, full, as they mount the bike for home.

—

Back at their apartment, he stares in the mirror again, hardly recognizing himself. After over a month with fur on his face, the clean shave is foreign and slightly itchy, but removing the hair had felt cleansing. Nearly cathartic. He feels lighter without it, even if his eyes are shadowed and maybe a little haunted.

Blinking away the heaviness, Soul is lured from the bathroom by the smell of heaven. Cookies and back rubs await and the world looks a shade brighter, though darkness still looms in his mood like a storm cloud.

Soon enough, he’s in trouble again.

To Maka’s shock, Soul decides on a romcom, something he generally avoids when it’s his pick as a matter of principle because, in truth, he doesn’t really mind them–it’s just completely uncool to admit it.

Selecting something called Love, Rosie that pops up first in in the romance section, he shrugs off Maka’s skepticism.

“Was a rough day, okay? We could both use a laugh.”

That’s true enough, but only part of it. The other, bigger part, is that lately, for whatever reason, Maka gets more clingy and touchy during rom coms and he really could use the closeness just about now. It hadn’t always been that way, and sometimes Soul wonders what the change means, but he figures he’s definitely trying to read too much into it. Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Movie queued, cookies out, and Maka positioned slightly behind him for optimal back exposure, they begin to watch.

As the movie rolls on, Soul has to cringe just a little. He hadn’t realized this movie is about a pair of best friends who are in love but neither knows how the other feels. It’s a bit too close for comfort for him, but since Maka doesn’t share the same affinity, it should be alright. He’s used to suffering in silence.

It really is painful to watch, but it’s also soothing on another level. Cookies are delicious, and Maka rubs his back a good quarter of the flick as they watch before casually snuggling against him. Soul could almost trick himself into believing they’re together and not just best friends. It’s nice, being close, as it’s always nice. Though–sometimes, it’s more than nice, and he has to will down the thrill that runs through him bring together with her this way when it doesn’t mean the same thing to her. The way she rubs his chest absently as they watch is distracting.

The movie is like watching his own heart bleed out on the table. Fortunately, it eventually ends better than it ever will for him. Not that he’s allowed to stew, not with Maka of the brain and the thoughts at his side. After the couple in the film go through years of running, of pinning, of not being able to get it together until they finally do only to consummate the whole thing (thankfully) offstage, Maka murmur-asks mid way through staring blankly at the credits, “I wonder if it ever happens that way?”

She’s probably talking to herself, but it makes his pulse quicken.

“I think it can,” Soul responds, and she lifts her head from his chest, fingers stilling then clutching the fabric of his shirt.

“Really?” Her brow furrows. “Because I always figured if two people are friends for so long and they both have feelings, it would have to come out much sooner–really come out. I mean, they were friends so long, how did they not realize it? Why would they run? I’d think, if it weren’t a movie, it would probably be one sided, and that’s why it never went anywhere.”

“Could be,” he admits. “Or could be they’re just both really good at hiding. Remember Kim and Jackie?”

“I suppose,” Maka sighs. “But life’s too short to hide for so long.” Soul knows her well enough to know she’s remembering that little boy, remembering all the kids who might not live long enough for love to ever be possible.

He swallows thickly. It feels like they’re on a precipice and he doesn’t exactly understand it because Maka is Maka. She’s not hiding, surely, because she never hides from anything. Maybe it’s his precipice, the moment he loses her, he thinks, as fear stirs in his heart. Fear of losing her in his silence as she eventually finds someone and grows beyond him–fear of losing her if he speaks because he is unworthy.

Panic could last hours but she doesn’t let it. “I’m tired of hiding, Soul.”

What?

Hiding… from what?

His heart thunders in his chest as she sits straighter, pauses the movie, wide green eyes seeking him with mere inches between them.

“What are you–hiding from?” he manages, feeling faint, body flashing hot, palms slicking rapidly.

“My feelings. And his, maybe.”

His–Soul’s heart crashes and burns in an instant. Not yours.

Still, if Maka feels that way–fuck–the way she looks at him now, shy and bold and waiting, hope springs eternal. He quashes it down as always. It’s not for him, clearly, but if it’s for someone–he can’t be selfish, can he? Can’t keep her from happiness if it rests at her fingertips?

Another thick swallow and Soul chokes out the words that could murder his heart.

“You should tell him.” His voice is more steady than it has any right to be. “Hell,” he keeps going, words pouring out because he feels like his world is falling apart at the thought of her gone, but he’s not quite selfish enough to stop it, so it’s now or never–he doesn’t know if he’ll have the courage to push her towards another twice. “Tell him tonight. We already finished the movie so you fulfilled your end of the bargain. You can go and–tell him now.”

So caught up in his own pain, his own push to get her through, Soul doesn’t immediately notice that her face has fallen, but it has, that tiny crease of frustration between her brows calling to him to smooth it with his thumb in gentle circles, though he doesn’t, doesn’t have the right to cross that line.

“I’m trying,” Maka huffs out, half under her breath, looking up at him from under her bangs. “He’s just not listening. Or maybe he just–doesn’t feel the same way.”

At first, the words flow over him like so much water, too many implications to catch a single drop, but then his mind works, struggling to break the surface, reeling as he does.

Oh. Oh. Shit. Shit.

“I–” he stammers, heart about to break from his chest, hammering faster than his body can possibly contain. “I mean–he–he does.” As her brow furrows more deeply, he quickly adds, “feel that way, I mean. About–about her.”

Soul is drowning in fear elation her, has no idea what comes next, but he might have known if his head were clear. Maka being Maka looks at him, eyes wide before going strong and clear with resolve as she sits straighter, leans closer, leans so close that their foreheads touch when she breathes out, “Soul, can I kiss you?”

Words fail, so he just leans himself, closes the distance, and their lips meet.

Maka Maka Maka. Is kissing him. Has feelings for him. Is now sliding onto his lap to straddle him, to tangle her hands in his hair, to dart her tongue across his lips, then inside, sliding against his.

Oh god, the few sad kisses he’s shared with others had been nothing like this, nothing nothing nothing.

The gross saliva of near strangers was unpleasant, but this is Maka and he can’t get enough of her tongue.

His confusion is only momentary as she eventually pulls away, panting, forehead resting against his again as her eyes search his.

“You really–feel this way?” she manages. Soul definitely feels some kind of way, a lot of ways, really, as the beating of his heart, the elated haze wrapped around his mind, and the stiffness in his pants can all attest.

“Yeah, have for–a long time. Since junior year.”

“Of col–” she begins, but he cuts it short.

“Of high school.”

“Oh.” Maka flushes. “Uh, me too.”

It clicks then. Suddenly and forcefully–they are so stupid.

“Prom?” Soul raises his eyebrows, memory hitting him like a freight truck.

“Prom,” she agrees with a sheepish smile.

He gets it because that was also his moment, dancing with her, feeling like it was just where he was supposed to be. Knowing, suddenly, that the dreams weren’t just dreams and what he felt for her–that constant affection–had changed, evolved, grown. Looking down at her, so close, so beautiful, so Maka, getting swept up in the music and her wide green eyes and nearly kissing her, feeling like she was about to kiss him, only he’d thought he was being gross, reading what wasn’t there, crossing a line. Soul had pulled away and their lives went on.

Until now. Until only just now. Another year of high school, the past three of college, that’s how long it had taken.

“You wanted to kiss me.”

“I thought you were going to kiss me. And I realized I wanted you to. And then when you didn’t–I figured I had read what wasn’t there and I just–” Maka bites her lip. “Ignored it.”

“I wanted to kiss you,” Soul admits. “Was just–afraid you didn’t want me to.”

“Well, I did,” she sounds frustrated.

“I know that now,” he says softly.

“Well, then, do something about it.”

So he does, and she does, and the romcom is long forgotten as they make up for lost time, realizing all the while that it really can happen that way, and life’s too short not to roll with it when it finally, finally does.

#proma writes #soul x maka #holiday fic #soul eater fanfic #soul eater fic #soma fic #ahhhhh I hope this is okay!

[mittensmorgul]

Between the promo and the interview with Dabb. It's important to see the love professed between persons they are not blood family but they are Family. I will only say that love is different but not least. I love that Dean says "Cas is my best friend" because a friend can be a brother, confidant, ally, encompasses a lot of things. And I Iike Dabb to say "Everybody looking for their place" Because they are all important. Castiel is one of a kind and he has to find his own place in the universe.

Yeah.

(And just for the record, Mr. Mittens is my best friend.)

(we’ve been married for almost 20 years)

(but he’s definitely my best friend)

And really, the whole “Everybody looking for their place” thing is something we’ve been flailing over FOR YEARS. ACTUAL MULTIPLE YEARS.

*note to say that I would provide ALL the quotes, but the superwiki’s been down all day, so this is literally entirely off the top of my head. All receipts can be found buried in my blog, but for the purposes of answering this in a timely fashion, *boom* you get the stuff I can remember without looking it up… :D*

*second note to say I’m putting this under a cut because damn… I wrote over 3k on the subject and whoa it’s long*

Let’s start with Dean (because really this show, for me, starts and ends with Dean)

Dean, in 10.16, with his whole confessional scene. Thinking about the things… people he wants to experience differently. Maybe even for the first time.

But this isn’t even really a new notion for Dean. At the beginning of the series we were first introduced to this cocky dude who had this whole loner/rebel thing going on… but that image got turned on its head by the end of the second episode (the third episode drowned that perception of Dean in a lake). He spent most of s2 feeling like he wasn’t even supposed to be ALIVE, let alone deserve anything more than he already had.

By s3, he’d sold his soul for Sam’s, and he was content with the trade… until near the end of the season when his time was running out and he was forced to confront his fate… (I don’t deserve it! FINALLY! at the end of 3.10 confronting the dream-demon-dean)

Resurrected in 4.01, Cas points out that Dean doesn’t believe he deserved to be saved… and he’s forced to confront this fate apparently laid on him by God– who he didn’t even believe existed, and certainly didn’t care about. Heaven was conspiring against Dean to make him into their pawn, all the while he fought against that fate. At that point in the story, back during the Apocalypse, he didn’t really get much time to stop and think about what “place” he’d choose for himself, he just knew he wasn’t gonna let destiny choose for him. Back then, he was fighting for the right to choose at all.

Apocalypse dusted, he trudged off to look for a white picket fence and a little peace and quiet. As far as he knew, the world wasn’t trying to end anymore, and without any sort of direction for himself, for the first time in his life he was sort of free to explore something different for himself. For reasons I’ve talked about plenty of times before, it didn’t work out for him. He tried to find a balance there, but it was too much, and suddenly he was adrift again.

He’d lost his faith again. Cas was gone, Sam was broken, and the world was definitely falling apart again. S7 stripped away everything that Dean had ever known. Forget about having choices, by the end of the season he was even running out of last-ditch refuges. Then he and Cas ended up in the last-ditch refuge to beat all other last-ditch refuges: Purgatory.

Coming back from Purgatory seemed to give Dean a new lease on life. ESPECIALLY after Cas came back… at least for a little while. Even after Cas came back to him, he still ditched him again…

(yes it was because he was being controlled by Naomi, no neither dean nor cas knew that at the time, yes it left everyone feeling terrible)

Then they discovered the Bunker. Things really began to change for him. He had a place that he felt was actually THEIRS. A solid, steady home base that grounded him in the world like nothing had since he’d been 4 years old and had a family home. It was his heritage, a part of his personal history that had been stolen from him long before he was even born. And that was HUGE for Dean.

The thing he was best at, the thing he took most pride in– his abilities as a hunter– was validated by this creepy old vault in a hillside.

Suddenly he had a home, a sense of legitimacy, a sense that he wasn’t some outcast on the fringes of society. Granted, living in a secret underground bunker still technically puts one on the fringes of society, but more in a Batman sort of way instead of in a Spiders Georg sort of way…

Right from the start, Dean had this sense of BELONGING there. He felt at home. He LIKES living there. He has privacy and comfort and his own room and a cozy robe and slippers, not to mention all the tools and resources he could ever hope to have to do the job he’s always loved (well, for the most part he’s loved it…).

But there’s always been that responsibility his father instilled in him from the moment he told him to carry Sam outside as fast as he can. His one real job, even above the hunting, has been to watch out for Sam. He still feels responsible for Sam, even though they’re both in their 30′s (and Dean’s pushing 40 now…). Is that REALLY his primary responsibility in life? I mean, of course he loves his brother, but should he forever put Sam’s needs and wishes BEFORE his own? Or, conversely, override Sam’s own wishes in service to that old “watch out for Sammy, you have to save him” mantra that John burdened him with in 2.01? That’s something he’s beginning to learn, beginning back in s11, and continuing into s12.

I think Dean realizes that hunting is where he belongs. Going back to 11.04, Sam asking him if he ever thought about settling down with someone in the life. Like, finding a romantic partner to share the life with. I.e., hunting with someone other than Sam. Implying that SAM had thought about this, too, for himself.

Conveniently, Sam meets a really lovely female hunter who he has a lot of instant chemistry with just seven episodes later (hello, Eileen!). But at the time in 11.04, Dean denies having considered it a real possibility for him. Despite having said something along those exact same lines in 10.16.

How much have I written about 11.11 and Dean’s heart-to-heart with Mildred about sunsets, and pining for someone, and… right. Okay. (there’s nearly 200 posts in that episode tag fyi. I’m not even gonna CONSIDER diving in there to pull references, or I’ll be there all night :P).

In 11.17 he gets the lesson hammered home that he can’t just throw away his own life in exchange for Sam’s. For the first time in his life, he’s confronted with the absolute fact that Sam’s life is not cosmically more important than his own. He doesn’t want Sam to suffer or die or to have to carry undue burdens on his soul (like the Mark of Cain… >.>), but that’s a reasonable thing to feel. It’s NOT reasonable to try to spend the rest of his life standing as that human shield between Sam and the rest of the world either, though, and he’s finally starting to understand that.

Then in 11.19 Dean makes a real breakthrough and FINALLY admits out loud and in front of Sam that he’s curious about what it’s like settling down with another hunter. He asks this of two men who are married to each other. Again, in front of Sam.

The s11 finale was ALL ABOUT CHUCK AND AMARA FINDING THEIR PLACE in a strange way. Not Chuck hiding out on Earth pretending to be something he’s not (a Dean mirror…), not Amara locked away somewhere like a prisoner, nor destroying all of creation in retaliation. It was all about balance, brought about by Dean Winchester.

So, that leaves us in Dean’s current situation. Mary’s suddenly alive again after all these years, Sam’s been hurt and taken by ??? and Cas was true to his word and stuck around.

Not only that, but Cas seems just as fierce and determined as Dean to get Sam back. Aah, brotherly feelings! Because THAT’S how Cas has learned (from Dean) that you take care of your brother. And really, I think that’s how Cas does see Sam. As a brother. It’s been a long time since he’s referred to Sam as the Boy with the Demon Blood, or “an abomination.” And Cas’s journey since borrowing Jimmy’s body and popping into that barn to say hi to Dean has also been about his friendship (and kinship) with Sam.

(I mean, just look at 9.11, THEY BOND OVER HOW SIMILAR THEY ARE! THEY TALK ABOUT HOW BOTH ANGELS AND WINCHESTERS CAN GROW AND CHANGE!)

I know this has largely been about Dean to this point, but when I started writing, I had no idea how much I really had to say on the subject. I was going to do a similar “this is your life” sort of segment for Sam, but It’s almost impossible to talk about Dean without pulling in relevant tidbits about Sam. So I’m gonna spend a (hopefully!) shorter amount of time talking about Sam here, specifically.

When Sam first met Cas, he was in awe of angels. Unlike Dean, he’d always had faith in a higher power. (He’d also always had Dean as a human shield against some of the worst of their young lives, which probably contributed to his ability to maintain that faith in what otherwise could’ve been a completely faith-destroying life… I mean, see Dean himself for the obvious compare/contrast here).

Sam had always felt “other.” The freak. Not even really all human. Living on the fringes of society yet wanting desperately to fit in and just be normal. He hated his life, hated hunting, hated not being normal. And then his powers kicked online and amped that feeling up to 11.

Poor Sam has spent so much of the series being the object of the supernatural that the only times he ever even tried to run away from the life he just got pulled right back in. He tried to run once during the Apocalypse, but that didn’t even last more than a few days before he was forced back in (in 5.03/5.04). The closest he got to escaping into normalcy was during early s8 while Dean was in Purgatory.

Nothing says family like the whole family being dead.

He drifted around the country aimlessly until he hit a dog.

He seemed to settle in for a brief time, but then suddenly Dean was back, reminding him that he had a duty to protect Kevin, and he’d failed. He’d never told Amelia ANYTHING about his life before he’d met her. Well, nothing REAL, anyway. Not the truth. Nothing about hunting or monsters or anything. So when his history finally caught up with him, his choice was an either/or. He couldn’t have both (not even like Dean had tried to do with Lisa, since she did know the truth about him. Sam wouldn’t burden Amelia with it, despite having demanded as his dying wish that Dean burden Lisa with it all…)

So Sam was adrift again, even though he had Dean by his side. Even though he had the bunker as a home base. It WASN’T a proper home by his standards. It wasn’t enough.

Enter the trials, enter Gadreel, enter the fight against the Mark, enter the Darkness… and finally Enter God.

(also enter Dean spending a month or so pining away and driving himself bonkers trying to save Cas from Lucifer)

And then… God couldn’t just snap his fingers and make this better. In fact, God was kind of a jerk. Or, at least, God was really freaking limited in his own ability to change. That’s one of the drawbacks of being absolute.

Free will is not included in the kit.

But Sam? Sam’s got it. And he chooses to exercise it LIKE A BOSS. SAM FUCKING WINCHESTER. CAN I GET AN AMEN!

Sam’s chosen all through s12 to stand up and defend what he believes in. Even in 12.01/12.02 when he felt like he had really nothing left to lose (with Dean gone, Cas banished, the Darkness vanquished), he still didn’t give in to his captors. He kept fighting for himself.

Because he does see the bunker as his home now. He’s also got this weird second chance to get to know his mother in a blank slate sort of way. He’s accepted her terms for how their relationship will proceed, because getting to know her AT ALL had never even been a possibility for him.

And we know he’s spent some time thinking about his future (his little retirement brochure and his box of memories). He’s spent time wondering what it might be like settling down with a hunter. He’s begun archiving the MoL records to make them accessible. He’s got a way to keep one foot in hunting and still have a relatively settled life. And he finally got Lucifer locked back up in the cage. He’s got hope for the future.

(well, he did until they got arrested by the secret service and tossed into some sort of black site)

Now on to Cas.

Castiel, Angel of the Lord. Arguably the most fascinating character progression in the history of television. He began as a completely alien being who was just rebellious enough and empathetic enough and curious enough to be swayed by humanity. Yes, he had a history of defying orders going back millennia, but he’s also been labeled as having “too much heart.” What a wonderful problem for an angel to have.

From wrathful soldier of heaven to homeless human struggling to survive, he’s experienced so much. And he’s been open to every last experience. He’s let humanity touch him and change him, all the while fighting to do the right thing for Heaven and Earth. He’s made some catastrophic mistakes along the way, and the weight of that guilt has affected him even more.

I saw a post earlier today about the line from the See Evil promo, where Dean says Cas is his best friend. Below that is an image of the “Friends to Lovers” tag from AO3. Because yeah, I mean, isn’t that the next logical step here? Their entire story has been a Strangers to Associates to Enemies to Associates to Friends to Associates to Enemies to Associates to Friends to whateverthefuck they were in Purgatory to Friends to Close Really Close Friends to Awkwardly Asking Out And Getting Rejected But Staying Heartbroken Friends to Bitter Exes to Friends to Brothers to “everyone you love will be long dead except for me” to ~Brothers~ to Old Married People Having A Spat Over How Much Cas Travels For Work With Dean’s Ex.

It’s ridiculous.

*glances up at this ridiculous post trying to determine if I’ve addressed your question even a little bit and realizes this is gonna have to go under a cut. WTF, self?*

Cas’s ENTIRE HISTORY ON THE SERIES, ALL OF IT, HAS BEEN A JOURNEY OF “FINDING HIS PLACE.”

I just watched 4.20 yesterday. That’s where I am in my current rewatch. He’s been struggling with what’s right, with what he should do, with where he should entrust his loyalty. Heaven’s orders don’t feel right. There’s something fishy going on up there, and his loyalty was wavering. After getting pulled back to Boot Camp for reprogramming, he tells Dean that he serves Heaven, not humanity, and CERTAINLY not Dean…

Well, it only takes him two more episodes to turn that around and tear up the script. For Dean.

THIS HAS ALWAYS BEEN CAS’S JOURNEY.

As much as Sam has been manipulated by the universe, Cas has too. (remember what I said about Sam and Cas in 9.11? Yeah, that.)

Well as much as Sam and Cas have in common, the relationship between Cas and Dean has NEVER looked like that. There’s always been a distinct difference between how Cas and Sam relate to one another, and how Cas and Dean relate to one another.

But Dean being Dean, who doesn’t feel like he deserved to be saved, doesn’t have any clue what to do with an Angel of the Lord who put his faith in Dean. And Cas doesn’t have any clue what to do with this man who has called him brother and best friend, both of which taste a little bit like a lie, or at least not entirely like the truth.

(see previous comment about Old Married Couple, yet with neither of them realizing it)

I realized a few minutes ago that I’ve already written something about Cas’s entire journey (as it stood over the summer hiatus after s11), and how he’s always been headed toward this huge choice: Do you want to live as an angel, or as a man? I’d go digging for it, but *scrolls up through this entirely too long already post* I think I’ve spent enough time on this.

Cas has struggled with these HUGE questions. He’s tried to do what was right. He’s tried to reconcile his duty to heaven with the original mission God set for the angels to protect humanity. He’s met God himself and seen the entire story of creation resolve itself. And now? Now where does he belong? His story’s been paralleled to Mary’s this season. Mary who feels out of place and time and disconnected from the world, yet is tied to it by blood and family and humanity. Cas feels out of place because of WHAT he is, because he’s not human or blood (even if he is family… or whatever he reads into Dean’s assertions that he has a place with them, in their home, with the Winchesters).

It’s all about family, what makes family, and finding out how they all fit into each others’ lives. If given the choice, what would each of them decide to do?

TL/DR? Basically my point is this is nothing new. This has always been the story, no matter what the “bigger problems” they’ve faced over the years have been. It’s just become a much more tangible and dynamic part of the story in the last season or so. Meaning it’s become more important, if anything. For Dean, for Sam, and for Cas.

Take any of those three out of the story, and the whole structure collapses. They’re all equally important here. I don’t think anyone who says different has a leg to stand on. I don’t know what the fuck show they’re watching, but it’s definitely not Supernatural.

Not sure if I even really addressed the original message here, but I’ve been typing this for a couple of hours now, so I guess I’ve officially typed myself out. :P

#m-sherezade #winchester family dynamics #oh dean #sam fucking winchester #castiel winchester #mary f. winchester #too many episodes to tag them all #spn s12 speculation #this is an andrew dabb appreciation blog (except when it comes to car stuff) #here have my belated thoughts on the whole love... and love #the scheherazade of supernatural #dabb vs cars