#a poetic end for the guys who ruined so many people's lives in the name of cost and time savings

[kkoraki]

HA HA HA… YES! good riddance to godawful rubbish!

[luveline]

in the morning, afternoon and night [Fred Weasley x Reader]

tags: reader-insert, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, low self esteem, reader has acne, sad reader, insecure reader

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

word count: 1.8k

You glared at your reflection.

You'd think with such amazing magical medicine available, some witch or wizard would've invented a cure for acne, or at least a spell that covered it up.

You'd struggled with it since your third year. The muggle doctor you'd seen with your mother had suggested it was hormonal, and would calm down as you got older.

That was years ago.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't, really. It wasn't usually very painful, though it was itchy as a stinging nettle and twice as unsightly. A large part of you knew it wasn't your fault, that acne was something that simply affected people at different times in their lives. You'd tried topicals and changing your diet, you'd tried losing weight and exercising and dermaplaning and everything they suggested in your mams fashion magazines.

Nothing worked.

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed them back, blinking rapidly.

It might've been silly, but it honestly made you want to hide away. You'd skipped dinner without really thinking, finding your way into the girls bathroom you inhabited now. You straightened your tie and robes, dusting down the sides. You leaned forward again, dabbing under your eyes with your sleeve.

The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know you'd been crying, because then someone might ask why. You didn't want to talk about it, ever.

If Fred saw you like this...

You and Fred Weasley had been almost dating for a few weeks now. Almost, because you hadn't talked about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing yet.

It had been years of thinking he was the fittest boy in Gryffindor (besides George) and months of meeting his gaze in the corridors and catching his eye over dinner. Gradually it had become something more; he started carrying your books between classes and opening doors, touching your arms and your hair and your face.

You cringed at the memory. He had been so caring, moving to wipe an eyelash from the skin under your eye. You'd violently flinched from his hand, afraid he might feel the bumpy texture of your skin, feel the acne beneath your makeup. He'd been apologetic and a little confused, filling you with guilt. You hadn't been able to find a way to tell him it wasn't him, it was you. Of course you wanted him to touch you, the thought of him cradling your face had been the subject of many dizzy daydreams, but you just couldn't tell him this one thing.

It was your deepest insecurity.

The stress had only made it worse. Redness was easy to cover with muggle make up and even some wizarding tricks you'd learned over the years, but there wasn't a way to smooth your skin, and the acne was textured.

It was depressing. You didn't want to use that word, it felt ungrateful to compare your skin issues to something so severe, but it made you miserable.

You but down on your quivering lip, pushing away from the mirror unhappily and opening the bathroom door, a frown on your face.

"Y/N!" a familiar voice said.

You jumped, startled but unsurprised. Fred had a talent of always knowing where you were. You'd find it creepy if he wasn't so endearing.

"Fred," you said, plastering a smile over your frown. "I was just coming to find you."

"What a coincidence, ma chérie, I was doing the same."

"Well," you began, easily sidling into his space, "you found me."

"Yes, I did," Fred hummed, wrapping his arms behind your neck, grinning.

He took a long look at your face, his forehead creased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Fred."

He moved his hands to your shoulders, looking down into your face searchingly. "Have you been crying?" he asked.

You shook your head, lying without thinking. "Something in my eye,"

"Both of them?"

You stepped backwards. He let go of your shoulders accordingly.

"Y/N?"

"It's really nothing," you said through a forced laugh.

He frowned at you for a few seconds more and his face cleared. "Alright," he said slowly, rolling the words in his mouth, "if you say so, doll."

You opened like a blooming flower at the pet name, your whole face softening. You smiled, hoping he understood that the smile meant, oh I just so adore you, Fred Weasley.

He threaded his fingers through yours, dragging you down the corridor beside him and waxing poetic about their newest lot of Peruvian darkness powder as you went.

-

It got so bad you couldn't go to class.

Okay, so you definitely could've gone to class, but the thought of leaving your curtained bed was enough to make you sick with anxiety, so worried that everyone would see you - see your face.

NEWTs were coming fast and hard. Everyone who wanted to be anyone was working hard studying their asses of, on top of Professor Umbridge's million new rules you had to abide by, including her newest life-ruining rule: Boys and girl are not to be within 5 inches of each other.

What a joke. You struggled through classes, wrote essays so long your hand burned at night and now you weren't allowed to sit next to your almost boyfriend at lunch? It was miserable. It was making you miserable, and now you may as well have sharpied on your forehead how equipped your body was to deal with it.

Fucking badly.

You groaned to yourself, rolling on your side to face the wall. You were at your wits end. It felt endlessly unfair that the thing that was stressing you out most was getting worse from stress.

Your stomach growled hungrily.

You threw your arm over your eyes in defeat, eyes finally filling with tears. You felt so hopeless. There was nothing to be done except keep up your routine until the flare up was over, or until your mothers next 'miracle cure' popped into existence.

The tears felt too hot against your sore skin. You couldn't help but sob quietly to yourself in self-pity.

A knock sounded at the door. You gasped, wiping the tears away in panic.

"Y/N?" It was Alicia. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Yes," you managed. "Yes, of course. It's your room too, after all."

The door clicked open. Alicia appeared, tanned skin completely clear and glowing, though each perfect feature was marred with empathy. "Fred's been begging every girl in the common room to come fetch you, but I told him to leave you be."

"Thank you," you said.

You cleared your throat. Alicia moved her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

"I- Y/N. I won't pretend to know how it feels, but I promise you, Fred won't care. He's beside himself worrying that you're bedridden and dying or-" she laughed to herself, "or that you're still mad at him for the itching powder. What I mean is... he's a good guy, and you're upset. Maybe you should tell him what's wrong. He won't care."

You sniffed. "I know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her shifting the bed. "I know he's a great guy. I just wouldn't blame him if he, if he didn't like me anymore. If he found it ugly. I would understand it, and I think that makes it worse," you choked on your words, heat building behind your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N," Alicia said, placing a tentative but comforting hand on your shoulder.

You lay in quiet, listening to your own ragged breathing.

"I'll go talk to him," Alicia said.

"No! I mean, no. Thank you, but no. I... I'll speak to him myself."

Alicia nodded, rubbing your arm kindly.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her finally spurred you into sitting up. You dressed in a hurry, chucking a wool jumper over last nights pyjamas.

He wouldn't care, would he? You cringed. Yes, he definitely would. Whatever was between you would stop. He'd have the grace to let you down slowly, drawing away his affections. He was a polite guy, he'd probably even say the whole spiel of "it's not you, it's me". But he would, eventually.

Well, you figured. Let it be quick. Like ripping off a bandaid.

You tread lightly down the steps, hoping to see him before he saw you.

Of course, when the slightest groan on the bottom step sounded, his lovely face whipped to meet yours. He smiled in relief, but it was mixed with something else. Disgust, your brain supplied nastily. He was disgusted. He rose to his feet, smiling smiling smiling. But something in his eyes was different, now.

"Y/N," he said.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi yourself, beautiful. Where've you been all day?"

"I'm... sick. Bad cold," you settled on.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound okay," he said, not unkindly.

"I..." you looked down at your hands.

A siren was sounding in your head. You didn't think Fred had seen you without make up for the last 3 years. Fight or flight was leaning heavily towards flight.

"Well, are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten all day. You need something in your system if you're gonna fight this cold."

"I'm not actually sick, Fred," you admitted under your breath.

"I know."

You looked up. He was still smiling kindly. It was infuriating.

"Look," you said finally, rushed and all at once, "if you don't want to- if you're grossed out. Then it's fine, I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Fred was stricken.

"I know it's - ugly."

"Ugly? Nothing about you is ugly."

"Fred, my face-"

"No, listen to me, Y/N. It's not ugly. It's not gross. You're not any of those things, are you kidding?" he said, grabbing your hands. "You're beautiful. All the time, in the morning, afternoon and night. You're beautiful in charms and transfiguration and care of magical creatures. You were beautiful yesterday and you're beautiful today and you'll be even more so tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, looking down at your joined hands. His cheeks had turned bright red.

"Smooth, Freddie," came George's voice, from the sofa behind them.

"Shove OFF," exclaimed Fred, growing more red by the second. Heat filled your own cheeks.

"It's skin, Y/N. That's all it is."

"Okay," you said tightly, trying not to cry.

Fred breathed out, his hair shifting in response. His corded arms pulled you tight to his chest. You breathed him in. He smelled sweet and rough, like burning caramel.

He thought you were beautiful.

You smiled into his shirt.

<3<3<3

tag list: @msmimimerton

if you’d like to be added to a tag list, please ask ! for in general or for specific characters, i don’t mind

[pars-ley]

Try again

Pairing: Hoseok x Female reader

Summary: When your job lands you at one of the most famous Fashion shows in Paris, the last thing you expect is to run into an ex - the current most sought after model in the industry.

Genre: Exes to lovers / Smut / Fluff

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Model Hoseok / Dior Hoseok / Unprotected sex (you know the dealio, wrap it when you tap it) / Ever so slight exhibitionism / Nipple play /

Word Count: 2.3k

Beta: @birbdae​ thank you for looking over it twice because I’m so extra (sorry) and thank you for all your help.

Notes: This is for my secret santa project with @thebtswritersclub​ for @yutasgalaxy​ really hope you enjoy! And I also used my square “Jung Hoseok” from my summer bingo card for the @bangtanwritingbingo​ event.

Taglist: @mwitsmejk​ @vantxx95​

The lights go dim and excitement blossoms like spring in your stomach as your eyes remain trained on the runway. Phone at the ready to take notes for this month's fashion article you are in charge of. 

The first model comes out and cameras flash wildly, illuminating the outfit. You scribble away rapidly recounting everything to write up later.

Dior's highly anticipated fashion show, one you had been eagerly counting down the days till. Flying out to Paris was the perfect opportunity for you to mark one destination off your travel list and you have not been disappointed at all. From the architecture to the food, you are undeniably impressed and living one of your ultimate dreams.

It's time for the most awaited outfit yet, everyone was on the edge of their seat poised. You look over at your photographer, he's in position and eager, looking ready to spring.

The lighting and music changes and out walks the model all in black. That's all the detail you notice as your heart stutters and stomach flips as your eyes shift rapidly to his face. 

Jung Hoseok. How did you not know he would be here? 

The cameras flash even more wildly, every photographer wanting to get the best pic of the most sought after model on this runway. Your hand however hovers over your phone, unable to scribble away like you were previously, too distracted by his general presence.

Swallowing the panic you feel rising into your throat you glance at your photographer, his eyes are already on you, pity creasing his brow but a message in his eyes that says "Focus on your job and get it together."

You take a deep breath and compose yourself, making notes on the outfit and nothing more. As soon as your eyes hit the harness stretched across his broad chest however, your legs squeeze together tightly, as not only do previous nights of passion flicker behind your eyelids but the temptation for one last night with him is almost too great to bear.

As you watch him strut down the runway, face impassive and professional, your heart pulls in a thousand directions. Memories of the few years spent together cloud your mind, taking you to another lifetime when he was yours and you were his - before fame, before everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose hard, willing yourself to focus as you type wildly away on your phone, trying to stay focused.

The show ends a short while after your blast from the past's appearance and all you can think of is getting as far away from him as fast as you can. Before all your hard work of burying your feelings in an attempt to get over him is ruined by your self restraint.

As you head for the exit, a hand lightly grabs your arm. Turning you see a pretty young woman, a badge around her neck and a kind smile on her face, handing you an envelope.

"It's from Hoseok. He asked if I could make sure you get it." She said next to your ear so you could hear over the chatter of the other attendees.

You nod and mechanically take it. She's off through the crowd before you even get a chance to say thank you.

You head to the exit in a daze, clutching the envelope like it holds the answers to life's questions. As soon as you're out in the cool evening air you take yourself off around the corner of the building away from the scattering crowds. Your fingers fumble as you frantically rip at the envelope and open the piece of paper inside, instantly recognising his elegant hand.

Many love letters he would write to you with poetic words scrawled across the page, each sentence a meaningful lyric coming alive as your eyes danced across them with a barrier of tears waiting to fall. Those words tucked away in a box hidden deep in your wardrobe for those moments you wish to relive how he once felt about you.

You read and re-read the note, double checking the words are correct.

"I saw you as you came in, I always had the ability to find you in a crowded room and apparently that hasn't changed. 

I can't believe you're here. Please. Please, meet me at Guy Savoy at 7 o'clock tonight. I would love to see you and speak to you properly. I will book a table under my name. I really hope you show, you have no idea how much I've missed you."

That last line did things to your insides you weren't expecting. Your chest felt full and ready to burst open, love bleeding out of a fresh cut. Maybe you should just go back to your hotel and order room service, or go out for dinner with your photographer seeing as you were both here alone.

But you knew, even as you thought it, you knew you couldn't. You knew you had no intention of doing either. 

Folding up the note and shoving it in your pocket and went in search of your colleague to tell him you wouldn't be travelling back to the hotel with him. He wished you luck, even if there was a hint of apprehension in his tone, you ignored it and took a cab to the restaurant.

Sitting there waiting, your nerves were at their peak. You had chewed the skin along your fingernails until they were sore and you had now resorted to folding your napkin to make different origami shapes. Just as you didn't think your heart could take anymore, you picked up your bag but as you were about to stand and run away, you saw him. Walking towards you, shades on and the most familiar beaming grin that had always made your stomach flip. You couldn't help the pull of your lips, mirroring the same smile he wore.

He breezed up to you and wrapped you in his muscular arms, like a whirlwind his scent intoxicated you and jumbled your mind even further.

"You are a serious sight for sore eyes." he whispers in your ear before pulling away and pushing in your chair as you sit down in a daze.

"You're around gorgeous models all day, I doubt that." you reply, attempting to hide your blush.

He removes his shades and places them on the table, before pushing his fingers roughly through his hair. "Believe me, it’s not as glamorous as people think.”

There’s an awkward silence that falls on your table, with sly, shy glances from you both. 

“How’s it been? Your career I mean.” you blurt out, desperately trying to ease some tension.

He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “I can’t complain, at all. It’s going better than I could have dreamed.”

You nod, taking in how nonchalant he’s being. “I have to admit, I’ve been keeping track.”

“Of me?” he asks, shocked.

“Your career.”

“Really? I’m flattered.” his lips stretch into a toothy grin as a faint scarlet hue spreads across his cheeks.

“You should be very proud of yourself. You’ve accomplished so much, there’s no limit on how far you can go.” you find yourself saying all of this without meaning to.

He covers his face with his hands. “Ok, I appreciate this, really, coming from you this means so much, but I am more interested to hear about you.” he leans forward and places a hand on top of yours, the action causing your heart to soar. “What’s been happening with you? Are you still in the apartment?”

You nod as you take a sip of the champagne the waiter is pouring. “Yep, can’t bear to leave it, I love it there so much, a lot of memories too.” you add sneakily trying to gage his reaction.

His eyes soften. “Yes, we made a lot there.” his fingers entwine in yours, a movement far too comfortable for how long it’s been. "I miss it," he looks into your eyes so fiercely you're slightly taken aback. "I miss us."

Your heart inflates excitedly in your chest as butterflies swarm inside your stomach. But is this a good idea to rekindle an old flame, maybe there was a reason it was extinguished in the first place.

He senses your hesitation. "Are you with anyone?"

You shake your head. "No, I've dated but nothing serious. What about you?"

He laughs a bitter sound. "Same. I've not found anyone that could match up to you."

You hesitate again. "Hoseok…"

"Listen," he puts a hand up quietening you. "I know it was mostly me who instigated us breaking up in the first place but that is my biggest regret. I never should have let you go." he bites back the emotion in his words and swallows.

"But if you hadn't you wouldn't be where you are today." you add, squeezing his hand still clutching yours.

He makes a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. "I left my dream girl to follow my dreams and let me tell you, it wasn't worth it. If someone asked me to choose, it would be you. every. single. time."

He grabs your chair and slides it along closer to him. He reaches out to cup your face. "Please, let me come back." 

His plea does not fall on deaf ears. Your heart knows the decision it's made but you can't form the words to speak. Your libido overtakes the moment and you grab him by the collar of his shirt and crush your lips against his. The taste of him is so familiar and yet new at the same time. Sweet like butter as your mouths melt together as one. His arm around your waist almost pulling you off your chair makes you break away and giggle. The heat in his eyes is almost overwhelming, all your thoughts are no longer in your head but in your groin. He looks so good staring at you like that, like you are the reason for living, how could you not give into him?

"Come back to my hotel?" you whisper urgently.

He nods, throws some cash down for your ordered drinks, takes your hand and pulls you out through the restaurant. You jog along to keep up with his long legged stride. He flags down a cab and you're into it and moving off swiftly while his hands find you again. They roam your body, finding their way under your shirt and to your nipples. He rolls them gently between his fingers as his lips attach themselves to your neck.

His hand glides slowly along your thigh, up your skirt and just when he's about to reach the most desired area the cab stops abruptly, letting you know you've arrived. You groan with frustration but jump out, pulling him into your hotel and leading him up to the room. Your heart pounding so loud in your ears you can't think of anything, nothing but the taste of his lips or the feel of his skin under your fingertips and god, did you want to feel more. 

As soon as your door is unlocked you're on each other. Clothes can't come off fast enough and as they leave a messy path like a trail of breadcrumbs leading towards the bed. 

"God, I have missed you." he says as he glances down at your body before pulling you flush against him.

There's no time for sly touches or exploring, you're both too desperate to feel each other.

Your bare, naked flesh moulds easily together as he enters you, both of your moans echo out across the room. The feeling euphoric as it's what you know and yet what you are no longer used to. He moves inside you with a persistent, desperate rhythm as his hips wind in the most perfect way, hitting that sensitive spot every time and making your toes curl in consequence.

He looks down at you, a soft, determined gaze and says breathlessly, "I love you."

His words are your undoing, as you remember the sweet nothings he used to whisper to you while you were making love before. You unravel around him, blinded by pleasure as your back arches underneath him. He's quick to follow you as you feel his warm seed spilling inside you and you watch his face twist in pleasure, his eyes never leaving yours. The moment, so intense, almost too intense you had to look away.

Both of you breathless and riding on your high, lay back on the bed staring up at the ceiling. A thousand thoughts race through your mind as you panic that you've just made a huge mistake. What if his words weren't genuine? What if he leaves...again? What will you do then? You'll have to start over, all your hard work of pushing him aside.

Almost as if he can sense your rising doubt, his fingers entwine with yours, as he turns onto his side to face you, gently twirling a strand of your hair between his digits.

He watches you closely as if searching your thoughts, your eyes so open and vulnerable - letting him right in, wanting him to silence your fears.

He strokes your face and kisses you so softly your lips melt right into him. You want this. You want him. 

"Hey, I'm serious," he leans back, eyes burning into yours. "I want to come home to you. I want our life back, I want you, always."

Your panicking heart is soothed by his words and you relax and lean into his touch, your limbs softening against him.

"Please, can I have another chance?" he asks, so vulnerable and sincere any doubts are washed away in an instant.

"Let's give it a try." you reply.

He almost blinds you with his sunshine smile as he pulls you against him, his lips dancing happily with yours. And you lose yourself in him completely. You are his, utterly and completely. 

[that-house]

Viego Rant (villainy and character design and tragedy and all that jazz)

Introduction The more I think about Viego, League of Legends’ newest character, the more enamored I am with him as a villain (unrelated to his general sexiness, though that does tie in with what makes him such a good villain).

I’ve seen a lot of complaints about his design. The Ruined King, one of the greatest threats in Runeterra, the progenitor of the Shadow Isles, the lord of the undead, is finally released as a playable champion and he looks like this:

People were expecting another Mordekaiser (who is similarly an undead king with a ghost army), a lich-tyrant clad in iron, decayed flesh peeling from an aged face. What we got was an angsty anime prettyboy, and it was infinitely better than the alternatives. 

Lore Viego isn’t a conquering king. While his combat abilities are indeed badass, his personality is far from it. He’s a whiny brat and that’s incredible. He isn’t bent on world domination. His character arc revolves around just how human, how fallible he really is. For those unfamiliar with his lore, I’ll paraphrase it here:

Viego was the second son of a great king. Overshadowed by his brother and with no expectations upon him and near-limitless wealth, he wandered around being an idiot fuckboy for the vast majority of his formative years. Disaster struck when his brother died in an accident, and Viego took the throne with no training, no experience, and no desire to be king. He was a shitty king. The worst king. Just all-around apathetic. Gave zero shits. Can you blame him? It’s a lot of responsibility to be thrust upon someone who isn’t much more than a child, and with no preparation. He didn’t care about anything, that is, until he met Isolde. She was a poor seamstress, but he fell in love with her upon their first meeting. Together they ruled the country but it was really just them staring longingly into each others’ eyes. His allies were kinda fucking pissed about that, and one day an assassin came from Viego. The assassin fucked up and stabbed Isolde instead, and the poison on the blade made her fall gravely ill. As she lay in her bed, slowly dying, Viego went mad seeking a cure. He ravaged the land seeking any knowledge that might help, pouring all of his money into finding an antidote. He failed. As a last resort, he brought Isolde’s body to the Blessed Isles, a place rumored to be able to resurrect the dead. It worked, to an extent. Isolde’s wraith, confused, afraid, and angry at being ripped from the peace of death, unthinkingly stabbed Viego in the chest with his own magic sword, creating basically a magic nuke that turned the Blessed Isles into the domain of the undead. Viego resurrected as the king of the Shadow Isles some time later, having totally forgotten that Isolde killed him. He controls a big-ass ghost army, could probably beat up any living thing in a fight, and has evil ghost magic. Now this stupid simp wants his wife back and if he has to kill every living thing on Runeterra, well, anything for his queen. He’s even a tier 3 sub to her Twitch.

Music His musical theme isn’t some heavy metal anthem or intense cinematic piece (unlike the Pentakill song named after his sword, Blade of the Ruined King). It’s mostly sad and slow, almost sinister, with a piano and a music box. It has its loud moments featuring violins and choral bits like any villainous music, but the song is mostly subtle. It is a banger though.

In the comments section of this video, someone pointed out that the music reflects his story from beginning to end:

Everything about this champion is so well done. Riot Games really outdid themselves on this one. Bravo, encore please.

Motivation While the Mordekaiser circlejerkers on r/LeagueofLegends won’t shut the fuck up about how powerful Mordekaiser is, Viego is the better villain. Mordekaiser may be a bigger threat to all life on Runeterra, but Viego is a better character. (There’s a guy on my League discord server who won’t shut up about Mordekaiser so forgive me for being pissed at Morde stans).

Mordekaiser is motivated by a desire for control, to rule the world. Viego is motivated by obsession and misplaced love. There aren’t a lot of Mordekaisers on Earth. Supervillains are rare in real life. But Viego’s motivations are a lot closer to home. People in positions of power that they don’t deserve can do a lot of harm (for example: Trump).

He’s a grieving husband who was never prepared to deal with anything more difficult than choosing what wine to drink with dinner, who is trying to get his wife back because the world had always complied to his every whim. He’s a funky mix between a truly hopeless romantic and a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum.

Obsession is scary. It’s a real-world emotional state that’s been the cause of a lot of murders over mankind’s history. In contrast, Mordekaiser’s cartoonish Genghis Khan XXL schtick isn’t something that we encounter often. Of course a superpowered ultradictator would be worse for the world, but if you give ultimate power to a random person, you’re more likely to get someone like Tighten from Megamind. Or, more relevantly, Viego.

Design His design is sexy and stupid, just like him. He wears an open shirt into battle and wields his sword like an idiot (I’ve seen all the rants about how that’s not how that sword is meant to be used) because he was never really a warrior. Even at his most violent, right before the end of his mortal life, he didn’t do much combat himself, leaving his military endeavors to his underlings. Even now that he’s essentially a god, he still has a colossal wraith army that causes far more devastation than he ever could personally.

Despite his slim build (by League of Legends standards), he easily wields his colossal sword because of the strength of his state of undeath. Like his political power when he was alive, his posthumous magical and physical powers were never something he sought out, they were just given to him by circumstance.

The big cool-ass triangle hole in his chest where Isolde stabbed him is the source of the Black Mist, which is evil ghost mist that ebbs and flows from the Shadow Isles, bringing with it hordes of the undead. The sadder Viego is, the more Mist he creates. Poetically, his invasion of the world is inspired by his sorrow at his wife’s death and enabled by his wife’s reluctance to return to him. His story is perfectly reflected by his design.

Isolde Isolde’s spirit took up residence inside a young Senna (who’s another League champion, not particularly important here). This led to some Black Mist-related shenanigans and at least for the time being, Senna uses Isolde’s power to fight off the servants of Viego which threaten all life on Runeterra.

It seems pretty clear that whatever love Isolde felt for Viego is gone by now. Whether or not she ever loved him or was just unable to say no to the king is up for debate, but I’d like to believe there was something there. In my opinion, Viego’s story hits harder if they really were a great couple at first, torn apart by circumstance and obsession.

Much like the Maiden of the Woods in that one comic that circulates around here, to whom the knight gave his heart and she was like “yo what the fuck i literally never asked you to do this,” Viego went a little too far in trying to save her. They may have once been happy, but the Ruined King ruined his own life, too.

Unless Isolde is a lot less morally decent than we’ve been led to believe, I doubt she can forgive all the massacring that her husband’s been doing lately. In the recent cinematic, she was shown to be pretty anti-Viego. Maybe she’ll get a bastardization arc, but it certainly seems unlikely.

All of Season 2021 is based around Viego, Isolde, and the Shadow Isles, so we’ll just have to see what comes next. It’s possible that we’ll get Isolde as a playable champion, which should clear a lot of things up.

Final Thoughts Unlike so many villains, he’s not fueled by rage or hatred, but rather by sorrow. He’s stuck in his past, unable to move on. He regrets the actions of his life but is set on his course now. The sunk-cost fallacy comes into play here; he’s put so much time and effort and blood into bringing back Isolde, that turning away from it would feel to him like an insult, not only to her but to the innocent lives he’s taken in her name.

His tale is a tragedy, a love story gone horrifically wrong. Viego has suffered throughout his thousand-year life. Despite this, he’s undoubtedly the villain. His permanent death would be a net positive for the world. In has rage and grief he’s destroyed multiple civilizations, and will burn down the world to get Isolde back.

His heart may be in the wrong place, but it’s in a very human place. I don’t think he’ll get the ending he’s looking for, but I hope he finds some closure in the end.

[oatmilkslytherin]

what the stars know (d.malfoy)

description: fem!reader and draco have been dating since their fifth year at hogwarts, but were unexpectedly torn about after the battle of hogwarts. the two lovers have spent nearly a year apart now, and all draco can do is wish on the stars that she’ll come back

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

warnings: none just FLUFFY

requested: yes / no

taglist: @jud3cardan​ @potatothingsz​ 

a/n: kinda sad but super fluffy draco imagine because i simp for this man on the daily

draco’s pov:

181 days ago, the school i called home was attacked and disintegrated into nothing more than rubble and ruins. 181 days ago, i watched the people i grew up with lose their lives and wills to live as my family members wreaked havoc on the school grounds. 181 days ago, the love of my life was ripped from my arms, and i could only sit here 4,344 hours later and blame myself for not holding onto her tight enough.

it felt close to pointless holding on so tight to someone who probably hated the sound of my very name. she never knew i was a death eater, she never could. i cared for her safety much more than my own, even now, even 181 days later. part of me wished for her return back into my arms; i wanted nothing more than to have her in my arms when the lonely nights left me with nothing but cold sheets and a pang in my heart.

after the war ended and both my mother and father were pardoned from being sent to azkaban, they decided it was best for me to live on my own to avoid the rather traumatic restraints the manor enveloped me in. luckily for me, blaise and pansy were also looking for a place to live in attempt to forget the memories of our young adulthood at hogwarts. 

now, we resided in a lonesome house close to the sea that was much too large for the three of us. we made it work between us, but most often i would retreat to my bedroom before and after meals, only ever coming out for small talk with the two of them. 

although they didn’t bring up the situation, i could tell they were concerned about me. i looked almost worse than i did when i was fixing up the vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement. they never questioned my well-being, however, as it usually just ended up with me storming off mid-conversation back to the haven of my bedroom. while i appreciated their company, it meant little to nothing anymore when i was just dwelling in my world without her. 

the world was rather lonely without her. most nights, i would sit at my bedroom window staring at the speckled stars in the night sky thinking of her. as absolutely dreadful as it sounds, the night sky reminded me of her eyes. they always had a sort of sparkle in them when she caught a glimpse of me. merlin, i thought about her eyes every night.

some nights, i would even pick my favorite star in the sea of light and wish for her. mother used to tell me when i was younger that if you wish on the brightest star in the night sky, your wish would come true. i have never believed in a ball of dust and matter more until i was without her; i desperately hoped that one day, the star would hear me and allow my wish to come true. 

this night was much like the others. 

i sat just below the window of my bedroom, the curtain blinds swaying lightly in the fall breeze and the sounds of waves crashing filling my ears. i leaned with my elbow on my knee, my hand propping my chin up as my eyes darted from star to star in search of the brightest one in the vastness. 

at last, my eyes landed upon the biggest, brightest star in the night sky as it pulsed rapidly against its black background. i sighed outwardly in attempt to soothe my rapid breathing and sore heart before letting my eyes flutter shut.

i could only manage to choke out a small “please” to the star as thoughts of her flooded my mind. i thought of her in our first moments, and i reminisced on her in our final ones. i thought of when we first met in our first year, how pure and innocent she looked when we were eleven; the way her y/h/c hair framed her smiling face as she sat next to me in the dining hall post-sorting. i thought of her laugh and her wide smile when she spotted me in our first class of the day. i thought of the way her eyes widened when i first told her i liked her. i thought of her reddened cheeks the first time i kissed her when we were only 15. i thought of every gift she gave me for our anniversaries, all accompanied with a heartfelt, handwritten note about something beautiful and poetic. i thought of the tears in her eyes when i followed my mother out of the hogwarts grounds. 

tears leaked from the corners of my eyes as i thought about every moment i had with her, and how many more i would have if i chose to stay. i cursed myself for leaving without saying goodbye, without kissing her one last time, without telling her how much i love her. 

“please. please bring her back,” i whispered to the star with my eyes still closed and tears falling freely from my closed eyelids. for a moment, i swore i could hear her laughter again.

-

the next morning, i awoke to a beam of sunlight dancing upon my pale features. i squinted as i attempted to pry my eyes open, my hand coming up to shield my eyes from the burning daylight. i groaned outwardly from the rude awakening, turning over in my cold sheets to face the small clock that resided on my nightstand. 8:08.

i haphazardly shoved the sheets off of my body, shivering as the cold replaced the warmth of the spread. there was no use in trying to go back to sleep now, i would only be tossing and turning for another hour. 

i shrugged an old sweater over my body before padding over to my bedroom door, yanking it open with no regard for my sleeping roommates. as soon as i opened the door however, i was met with faint high-pitched chattering from what sounded like the kitchen. i furrowed my eyebrows, wondering why in the world blaise and pansy were up so early; they were most definitely not morning people in the slightest. 

i trudged down the stairs towards the kitchen, running my hands over my face and through my hair in attempt to rub the sleep out of my eyes. 

i swung the door to the kitchen open, padding inside and towards the cupboards for a mug.

“morning,” i muttered to blaise and pansy, not bothering to look up at them. i grabbed a mug from the shelf, beginning to fill it with water already boiled from the kettle when i heard pansy let out a small laugh. i furrowed my brows once more, wondering why her attitude was so chipper for it being 8 in the morning. 

“what’s got you in such a good mood?” i asked with a tinge of annoyance in my voice, my eyes still trained on my mug and the tea bag that now resided in it. 

“if you used your eyes for once, draco, maybe it would put you in a good mood as well,” pansy stated cooly, soft laughter still spilling from her lips. i snapped my head towards her, ready to go off on her for her remark and attitude before my heart nearly stopped. 

there she was. sitting with a mug in her hands at my kitchen table, a soft smile spread across her features with her eyes crinkled in suppressed laughter. i blinked rapidly a few times, wondering if this was all some vile, desired-filled dream, or if she was really there. really, really there. 

she stood up from the chair, pacing over to me with a wide smile and bright, slightly teary eyes. i couldn’t bring myself to move, i felt frozen in place with pure shock as she stood before me. my heart raced rapidly, my mouth going dry as my mind scratched for something, anything to say.

“hi, draco,” she spoke, a single tear falling from her eyes as she smiled up at me. my mind faltered on any coherent sentence as i took in her presence. her hair was longer than it was when i last saw her, and the wounds she sustained from the battle were long gone. she looked just as beautiful as i remembered, even more beautiful if it was possible. 

i suddenly remembered my ability to move, and my arms immediately wound around her, nearly toppling her over with my embrace. she giggled in my arms, letting her small frame envelop into mine as she wrapped her arms around my torso, resting her head against my chest. 

a few tears slipped from my eyes as i pulled her closer into me, feeling entirely overwhelmed from the situation. 

“merlin, y/n. i thought i’d never see you again,” i muttered against her hair, squeezing her so tight i was fearful that i was going to crush her. i couldn’t help myself; after 181 days without the love of my life, i couldn’t bare the thought of letting her go again. i felt her smile against my chest as she rubbed soft, soothing circles in the small of my back. 

“i’d always come back to you dray. always,” she whispered, tilting her head up towards mine. i softened my tight grip on her, staring down at her with both of our ears teary but wide smiles plastered on both of our faces. 

i leaned down towards her, locking our lips in a soft, but desperate kiss. our lips met in a salty, smiling mess as i melted entirely into her. for the first time in 6 months, i felt whole again. 

i pulled away from her slightly, my eyes not daring to leave hers. i brushed a few strands of her long hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear as i gently ran my fingertips across her soft features. 

i tore my eyes away from hers for only a moment only to eye blaise and pansy who were still seated at the table, smiles grazing their features. it had been such a long time since any of us have smiled like this; of course, y/n was the only one who could bring light like this out of any of us. 

“did you guys do this?” i asked, my smile unfaltering as i glanced between my two friends.

“took a bloody long time, but we were able to track her down. she’s a sly one,” pansy stated, a smile lingering on her own face. i couldn’t help but feel my heart swell at the thought of my friends doing something so grand for me.

“don’t i know it,” i teased, pressing another kiss to the top of y/n’s head. she smiled lovingly up at me, unable to hold back a soft giggle that escaped her lips. 

-

y/n’s head rested on my chest as i wrapped her in my arms, our backs pressed into the soft warm sheets as she traced circled onto the fabric of my shirt. a song played softly from the radio on the table, y/n softly humming along as i ran my fingers through her hair. 

“i asked the stars every night to bring you back. after a while, i thought they stopped listening,” i admitted softly to her. y/n shifted her body, tilting her head up to look at me with a soft smile glazing her features. oh, how i missed her smile.

“funnily enough, i asked the stars for the same thing. seems like they were listening after all.” she leaned up to press a soft kiss to my cheek, her lips lingering for a moment before she buried her head in the crook of my neck. i relished in her soft exhales and warm breath that fluttered across the skin of my neck.

funny what the stars know, i suppose.

[randomoranges]

I'm pretty sure you've mentioned it before but what tribe does Étinenne belong to? Any specific details you can give?

Bonjour – hi hello pardon for the delay

I got super busy with work and stuff and then had to think of the answer because this is not a straightforward question haha and then had to revise the og answer to make it better.

Anyways this is going to be a Thing and a little bit all over the place but here we go.

As they say in the vernac’ attache ta tuque a’c d’la broche à foin.

Bref.

So

The island of Montreal was before colonisation a meeting hub for different groups of first nations. They’d come to what is now the old port area and trade, exchange, meet up, etc. But not no one really stayed permanently esque in that gen area in a long term type of way.

Keeping that in mind, Pointe à Callière is currently the museum that has the ruins of the old Ville Mariefortifications from the Maisonneuve era.

Both areas are super close to one another. Like it’s part of the same area.

After MUCH consideration and going back and forth (thank you 5ever @allbeendonebefore for the help – the real MVP) I’ve come to these following thoughts.

For starters, it’s more particular with étienne because Montreal is a city – but it’s also an island and a few years back they tried to like unite all the cities of the island into one giant city on the island. To some success. So – what path did I want to go with? And also both paths have their pros and cons and things that make it easier and harder.

I always chose the island one because it encompasses the Important Areas of the City and the ones with the Most History, so it’s easier to include More. Ish.

Ét would have started off as just Some Guy who appears where Pointe à Callière is. He’s a regular dude and he likes the vibe of the place and the comings and goings of the people in the area so he sticks around and lives his life. People (the First Nations people who were using that area as a trading/exchange/meet up hub) would tell him stories of their adventures/things that happened because ét seemed trustworthy and because he was the “local guy” who just happened to be there and et is curious and does fit in with crowds really well. Ét ends up “collecting” these stories and obviously finds them fascinating.

Throughout his early days, he picks up on these tales, makes connections with people and lives an ordinary life by the heart of the river and at the foot of the mountain [poetic license here]. Élyse may be his only constant by then, but their relation isn’t as close as it would be today. She too would come and go but she’d be the only one coming and going as frequently and because she too does not age like a regular human, ét would assume that’s the standard. The others who come and go don’t necessarily come back so he’d think little of it – or he’d see them again Much Later, so Clearly It’s Fine.

He isn’t aware of a bigger role he may or may not have just yet.

There would have been other “avatars” of the first nations groups that would come and go and they would have traded stories with étienne as well and that would be how he would get the cartiertales from the St-Laurent Iroquoians [who are, according to history, the group that happened to be there when Cartier showed up]

For now, étienne without knowing is like the personification of the Meeting Spot where everyone meets up. He has a connection to the spot but he’s still unaware of his raison d’être. Of course, he yearns for a sense of belonging, but whenever a group comes over for a bit and he thinks this might be it, it turns out that it’s not.

Eventually, by the time the Mohawks come and settle on the territory, they would be the first group that would make an actual real connection with Étienne and like invite him to join them. And seeing as Étienne has longed to belong to a Group, he’d join. Also since they seemed to actually want to stay in a more permanent way and not just – well growing seasons done so long and thanks for all the fish.

Étienne equally being a quick study of languages would also pick up really quickly and he’d fit in nicely with the Mohawks who could see potential in him/him being an asset.

It would be around these times that he’d start to realise that people around him – that he’d met just a few years back – that were just like him what feels like the other day – are changing when he isn’t. And it’s prolly around then that he realises he’s different from the others in his community and question why. The answers he gets aren’t satisfactory, but he grins and bears it and keeps searching for Others Like Him and he wonders if maybe those others whod swapped stories with him before, with warnings and caution knew something he didn’t.

The interesting thing with PAC as well is that they’ve done this thing a few years back called the Memory Collector – collections of memories and whatnot from people who’ve come and gone through Montreal from the og Montréalistes to current immigrants and everything in between. So Étienne being the actual Collector of Memories through people coming and going and telling him their stories is like – perfect.

He’d move around with the Mohawks and it would be the first time he’d feel as though he’d belong to a group so he’d associate with them as an identity.

In my humble opinion, my thoughts have always been that when Maisonneuve and co arrived and tried to get a village started, étienne, being the curious being he’s always been, woulda been intrigued by these newcomers and would have wanted to see how they lived compared to him and the people in his community. Also, with Maisonneuve and Co wanting to get a village started in like his area he woulda been like well hello neighbours! Come, come, here is the land! Enjoy!! So, he would’ve prolly wanted the others of his community to do the same and want Maisonneuve and Co to welcome the ways of his people as well. In his mind he doesn’t understand why these two groups – and others – can’t get along and just live peacefully together. He’s seen enough bloodshed and it’s Exhausting. He much rather have those evenings of trading stories and having a good time.

Also, an interesting note is that Cartier mostly just came, saw left-ish compared to Maisonneuve who was like “aight, let us live here Permanently” that changed the dynamics and also pulled at Étienne who again was like I Want Friends.

In the og village of Maisonneuve and his Montréalistes [yes, that’s what they were called at the time] there were different first nations ppl who decided to live with Maisonneuve and Co. So it’s not always easy to be like ah yes, étienne woulda belonged to X and Y. Hence this rambly mess.

Obviously and unfortunately, there were way too many conflicts btwn Maisonneuve and Co and the first nations folks and that would upset étienne who woulda wanted all groups to get along. In his opinion there were many resources for all to live happily. The Grande Paix de Montréal [1701] would have given him Hope TM that things could settle down once and for all.

On a side note, before Maisonneuve and Co arrived, Étienne would have not used the name Étienne. That would come post colonisation but I’m not sure when. At the time he would go by Tiohtià:ke.

In the early days of Ville Marie ét woulda still been more “first nations” than “bonjour I am now a Montréaliste” but he woulda offered his services/employment to Maisonneuve as a voyageur after a bit, because on top of errthing else ét woulda been hella intrigued by the idea of exploring the world and the fact that there were people who crossed the big ocean and who lived so completely differently from anyone hed ever known woulda boggled his mind and also to get away from the hot mess of conflicts going on. He woulda thought the Grande Paix would have brought back the earlier trading hub/story swap vibes, but too many bloody conflicts he was tired of made him want to get a change of pace. Plus the fact that now he felt Attached to Groups so no longer needed to just Wait. And also the fact that said Groups were Not Getting Along would have made him want to Leave.

After a while of that, around [18XX] he woulda settled in the city and like been a merchant of sorts. [im still working on the notes and details, but he’d get tired of the trips and the conditions and it wasnt just go out and have fun and explore but there were too many issues as well and he just – wanted to have a good time, really, so hed go back to the city and change again]

By the 19th century, whatever ties with his og first nations roots he had woulda been completely washed away by the colonisation of the island – especially by what is now the old port/ville marie and he would have tried Real Hard to Fit In because of his curiosity and wanting to live like these european folk and because of how shite the first nations were being treated. George-Étienne Cartier would have been an Aspiration of his and someone he would have modeled himself after [way of life, personality, etc]

By that time he would also consider himself as French and first nation (Mohawk) as a second and maybe even third thought. Equally, compared to some other avatars, I feel like Étienne would have “lost himself” and is now unfortunately more disconnected from his OG first nation roots than others might (think Ed). The colonisation + the large amount of euros that came to MTL would have given him whiplash for years and would have been like a tidal wave over his head. All of a sudden the village boomed, it was a city and there were more of these french cathos than anything else.

For a good part of the 19th and 20thcentury, he would have identified as Catholic and French with very little regard to his first nation roots. The og village of Ville Mariewould now be an actual thriving and important city and offering more opportunities for growth to him/suddenly MTL city is super relevant. He’d get swept up by the fast pace and the “glamour” and pretty words and it was easier to just go with the flow than to fight. He’s always been someone of good times and parties and of celebrations over everything else and obviously it wasn’t always easy for everyone in the city, but it certainly is when you know the right people and you’re on the up and up as an Important City.

Post Oka crisis (1990s), I think he would have started lowkey thinking about his first nation roots again. Mostly because the crisis shoved it in everyone’s faces in a big way that hadn’t been heard in a Long Time. And maybe slowly slowly like veeeerrry slowly reconnecting. But feeling v lost and overwhelmed by it bcs is that even still him? Was that ever even him? And if not then what the heck even bcs thats like centuries of his life just – forgotten and lost. But to a point he’d also relate with the immigrants who’d come to his city and then feel alienated from their og roots. And then also like even going back to it it’s not even what it was Before, because the Mohawks changed over the centuries as well [duh] as most groups do. Like with any language and expressions and fashions and such from any place.

Eventually at some point in the 21st century he would reconnect more and make his own amends with his identity and the multiple facets it has as well as coming to terms with certain events that happened btwn the euros and first nations over the centuries. The Catholic identity would peter down post 1970s, but the french id would stay even though he likes the multicultural aspect. Theres just something about being a little shit and also being Different in a Sea of Same, etc

In the end, he would attach himself to being Mohawk + French origins since those two would really be the two first groups that gave him a sense of like “belonging” in their own way. [And, obvi he’d belong to the queer community lamao]

Literally coulda just answered your ask with: Mohawk, French, Queer Lamao bit I turned this into a Thing TM oupsee.

And I totes hope this actually Answered the Question and you didn’t mean something completely different LAMAO

[magnusgoetia]

Transcript of a Sinner’s Conversation: A Meeting with Caecus

--Begin (In Medias Res)--

Sinner: You kiddin'? Dyin' was the best thing that's ever happened to me.

Caecus: There’s nothing you left behind? No family to miss?

Sinner: My family? Fuck 'em, I'd ‘ave hired 'elp to kill 'em already if it meant they'd be dead-dead, and I wouldn't have to spend time wiv 'em down 'ere. It wouldn't be right for me to force this on my friends either, but they'll be 'ere in due time anyway. I can wait.

Caecus: So, you’re expecting your friends to join you here as well. The wait must be awfully lonely.

Sinner: Ah, not really. I’ve made friends while I’m ‘ere. The shit I can do ‘ere is like, fucking magic and with it I can make up for what I lack in a lot of different ways. Just wish I could remember how I ‘ad died.

Caecus: Maybe it’s better not to remember… Not all of us intended to be here, after all.

Sinner: No. No, perhaps it’s best not to remember. I quickly found out that it's not just evil folks that end up here, lots of good folks, plenty of weird ones too. I'm sensing you’re of the “gooder” ones, you radiate...well, it’s 'ard to describe, but I don't sense any hostility from you at the very least, even though you were born ‘ere.

Caecus: How amiable of you. But remember, a birth is just a new beginning of sorts. You couldn’t have been alone since you were… delivered to us.

Sinner: Ah, you’re a poetic type aren’t ya? Anyway, I’ve not made many friends but I do ‘ave a particular fondness for this one clown...me an' 'im seem to 'ave this weird connection wiv each other. Actually, he's more of a jester type, though rather embarrassingly his name escapes me...

Caecus: Are you, by chance, referring to an imp named Blocko?

Sinner: Yeah, don’t surprise me you know ‘im. He seems like the type to ‘ave a particular reputation.

Caecus: That he does, and yet a divine will connects us. I’m being led to believe your intriguing appearance has an even more… intriguing history.

Sinner: Riiiight...Well, you know what they say about skeletons and closets. Though I suppose I ‘ave nothing to hide ‘ere...Well, to put it simply, I was a broken kid. I never got help, and I did... unspeakable things to anyone who ‘ad wronged me—or simply didn't like.

Caecus: Even the purest of souls can be corrupted by another’s sins.

Sinner: Yeah...Well, it's not like I'll stop doin’ what I did while I was alive, with all that murder and hedonism. Though death has a way of humbling some people...In any case, the murders mostly stopped as I grew older. I seemed to have preferred to just traumatise people instead, ruin lives of the people I saw as bad or evil.

Caecus: Then you found a different punishment for those you had judged.

Sinner: I suppose so. A lot of it involved me spying on groups of people. I'd worm my way into the seedy societies that thought they were safe in their little circles and collect dirt on them. Really sick shit too by the way but don’t worry, the hypocrisy wasn’t lost on me either.

Caecus: Oh? You judged yourself a hypocrite yet continued along a path of self-appointed righteousness... Why?

Sinner: I don’t know, maybe a sense of catharsis? A lot of these were people who I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about killing or whatever. Sometimes it was more personal too, there were—still are people I am attached to up there that got hurt, and I took my revenge on them in their place.

Caecus: Ahh, how noble. Fighting for your friends.

Sinner: Yeah, there was this one particular bastard. Actually, there were a few…but…eh, nevermind…this one particular guy who was essentially lying to one of these “friends” and caused them a psychotic breakdown. I didn’t take action right away, but I did end up killing ‘im. Didn’t even bother hiding the fact it was a murder.

Caecus: What made you wait?

Sinner: Money, mostly. It makes the world up there spin, and you need a lot of it to get anything done, right? Well, I ‘ad to wait until I ‘ad enough money to fly to the states on top of all that shit involved in immigratin’. When I settled in, that’s when I made my move on a buncha grudges. This guy was just the first. Moving to the states made my life a lot easier in some ways. Was a lot easier to sleep when I took care of the grudges too.

Caecus: Oh, wow. You must have had remarkable resolve to keep a “grudge” that long… Tell me, did all of them truly deserve it?

Sinner: No, most didn’t, but I am…was, an angry person. I found I was very much capable of venting my anger, to put it mildly, and I was much too young when I had...shall we say...discovered it.

Caecus: Young minds are impressionable.

Sinner: Right, and the fact that I was generally good at getting away with it made me feel just that little bit better about it.

Caecus: So, you exploited that validation to continue justifying your actions. Most sinners in your position never reach awareness...

Sinner: Yeah? I’ll take that as a compliment, but I was totally emotionally disconnected when committing my crimes. Afterwards I pretty much always dealt with conflict. Cognitive dissonance is a bitch. Though I had largely stopped my ways. I’m ‘aving way too much fun down ‘ere, and even though I won’t drag ‘em down here with me, I’d love to have my friends join me eventually.

Caecus: Would they be pleased being here, embrace this existence like you have?

Sinner: I dunno, some of them have a hard enough time as it is with one existence, I doubt they’ll be too happy to find out there’s another waitin’ for ‘em. The others I’d imagine would be quite surprised all the same, being atheists and such, but I reckon they’d come to like it.

Caecus: An existence you cannot escape is itself a prison. Albeit, choosing to enjoy it in spite of that perspective is a marvelous thing. If you could imagine them in your presence, what would you do?

Sinner: Again, I dunno. It’s hard to tell when they’re not here yet but I am somewhat interested in what’ll end up happening should they get here. I dunno if I’ll be able to tell if it’s them even.

Caecus: And how do you dare to enjoy existence now?

Sinner: Well, I’ve been doing everything I’ve ever wanted to do but could never do in life amongst other things. It’s kinda embarrassing, but I played a bunch of video games, so I miss those quite a bit. I’ve found plenty of ways to fill that void though. Some of your movies are pretty sick down ‘ere, and importing goods from the other rings to ‘ere means I don’t miss out…mostly, on their fun too. I just wish I could explore the other rings; I don’t get why us sinners can’t.

Caecus: Decretum is often difficult to understand. However, it would seem a blessing that you’ve been placed with the multifarious company of the pride ring.

Sinner: True enough, whatever that means. There’s a lot of strip clubs, greedy businesses and shit, stuff you think you’d only find in the other rings. Though I think I probably would’ve ended up in wrath if we landed in the rings based on our sins.

Caecus: Most catechisms view wrath as an excessive anger. You strike me as having more control than the average sinner.

Sinner: A lot of people on the surface woulda said the same too, I was and I suppose still am really good at keeping it in check, well, good enough to not make it obvious anyway. Though it’s been a lot tougher down here.

Caecus: This is a realm of collective temptation, after all.

Sinner: My only judge here is myself and perhaps my peers if I let them. I still kill down here, but it’s been in self-defence. I don’t think I’ve killed anyone out of anger yet but let’s just say I’d feel sorry for the poor sod who happened to piss me off on a bad day.

Caecus: You’ve always been your own judge. I suspect the lack of good comparisons for your behavior here has coaxed you further.

Sinner: Actually, I could tell you about the first person I “killed” down here. It was soon after I woke up. I suppose this guy thought it’d be easy—fresh sinner, just in time to be another tally mark on some statistic.

Caecus: A second death, the lake of fire…

Sinner: Uh...yeah, I reacted on instinct and it musta been a sort of “kiss of death” type shit. I only touched the dude with my hand, and he just kinda…shrivelled up and died. You know…like when a cartoon character eats a lemo—ah sorry, you can’t watch TV.

Caecus: Ah, yes… a shrivelling death is nevertheless descriptive.

Sinner: Anyway, I have a bunch of other powers too but that one I’m most afraid of you know? I can drop the ambient temperature of an area so shit gets cold, have some form of telekinesis and a buncha other stuff, like I have some kinda control over this weird glowy energy, it’s how I have my eyes, which are purely for show, I don’t need them since I can see perfectly fine without ‘em...not that you’d know I even have ‘em.

Caecus: I’m aware you observe our world, in a traditional sense. My observations are just a bit more… unorthodox. And I feel as if your fear is not from a lack of understanding.

Sinner: Well I seem to have it under control, but I’m afraid in a moment of weakness I might react without thinking, you know? I’ve not had it happen yet, but it would be so easy when flippin’ out that I just give ‘em the ol’ touch of death.

Caecus: Even a king’s heart is just a stream of water to the hand of… fate.

Sinner: Gonna be honest, I haven’t the foggiest of what you just said. Though if I’m being honest myself, I couldn’t care less if it was someone I didn’t know anyway. Only really care about my friends and such. You seem pretty neat yourself.

Caecus: The impression is mutual. It’s not often that I’m seen as anything other than senseless and intimidating. I don’t find it unwarranted, granted; my appearance is as disconcerting as my psyche.

Sinner: How do you even know what you look like? It’s not like you can just look into a mirror.

Caecus: I was presented with a vision soon before I arrived, my last blessing I suppose… Regardless, my rebirth is a tale for another time. I’ve relished in your company long enough, and I must answer my calling. I’m sure our paths will converge again.

Sinner: Hey, I hope so too...uh....

Caecus: Please, call me Caecus.

Sinner: Well, it’s only polite to give you my name too. I go by many names here, but I am quite fond of “Mr. Death” as silly as it sounds.

Caecus: Silly, yes, but very becoming of you. A pleasure, Mr. Death.

Mr. Death:Well, don’t let me keep you. I’d like to see you again sometime, Caecus. I’ll take my leave.

Caecus: All in due time.

--End--

[thompsborn]

Happy FFWF! What's your favorite title you've given a fic? Why?

okay so i looked through ALL of my posted fics, including my ~secret identity~ and my it account, and i’m too indecisive to pick a FAVORITE favorite, so here are the ones i can’t choose between, in no particular order

• sea green, see blue

this one isn’t marvel, it’s my ron/harry one shot that i’m still planning to write a sequel for eventually, but this title just HITS me okay?? i love this fic a lot too, like i put say more thought and effort into this bitch than i needed to, and i spent literal HOURS of my time trying to think of a name for it, and then i found this song while listening to a playlist of music that was on how i met your mother, because himym is one of my favorite shows and had so many great songs in it and oftentimes i’ll find such good lines in those songs—case and point being this one, which, while the lyrics don’t FULLY fit how i think of ron/harry, the title of the song fits the fic PERFECTLY, because the entire central point and theme of the fic is the two of them seeing each other—how they think, how they act, how strong and smart the other is. it’s all about their perception of each other and harry, green eyes, seeing ron, blue eyes, who sees harry right back. it’s just. i love it. SO much.

• when healing hurts

this title is kind of self explanatory and not hard to grasp, but i still just love it a lot, especially since it perfectly grasps the main part of why i wanted this fic to be in this series and why i wanted to write it in the first place. peter’s healing factor is incredible and is written about a lot but i just always think about how there are situations where his healing would be agonizing, and i’ve read fics that explore that but i wanted to write my own version of it that fit into the series, and the title gives the two main points of the fic—healing and pain, and how they can go hand in hand. idk i just think it’s nice and suits the fic really well!!

• the portal closed

again, self explanatory title once you read the fic, but that’s kind of the entire point of it! this is a fic about a different version of the mcu, one where everything changed due to a singlilar event going differently—tony not making it out before the portal closed. and this is an exploratorion of everything that follows from that point. it’s simple but it’s exactly the purpose of the title and i get so excited whenever i open the doc to work on it (which i need to do since i haven’t updated in a hot minute) and it’s just v satisfying to me!!

• hold me (like the night sky holds the moon)

lol so ~secret identity~ (even though anyone i’ve been in a marvel discord server with knows this) but this is my other account where i post anything that includes ~spicy~ content just bc i like having it completely separate from my main fics since a majority of my fics don’t actually include explicit content, HOWEVER i love this fic and the title and wanted to include it anyway! this entire one shot was directly inspired by three songs written by anson seabra and i don’t even remember how i got the idea but i rememver listening to those three songs (especially broken, which i still listen to very regularly) on repeat and busting this fic out in like a day or two, and the title comes from one of those songs (this one, specifically) and it just. it captures the point!!! the point of the fic!!! is peter going from “fuck it i ruined my life and i’m still ruining it and now i’m just living what’s left of it and that’s just what it is” and then making it to “this is still hard and i’m scared and i’m sad but you helped me see what i wasn’t seeing before and i’m so grateful for you and i want you to be here and me to be with you even though that scares me even more” and the song is just AAAAA !! the title is so poetically lovely and from the song that CAPTURES THE ENTIRE POINT and just. wow.

anyway.

• butterflies and storms and ooey-gooey feelings

i have no justification for this other than i think it’s a really cute title for a really cute one shot

• fall into your blue

so this is also a lyric from a song (any jon bellion fans? anyone? hello?) that i was so grateful to realize fit this fic because this was also a fic i remember spending HOURS trying to brainstorm a name for, and i just happened to be listening to jon bellion and this song came on and i was like,,,, wait. this fic isn’t complete (but i did recently get back into my it fics a little bit and started rewriting the second part) but the premise behind the fic is these guys, two different separate people, who are in their senior year of high school and who are getting ready to become adults and have their whole futures ahead of them but they can’t do that yet because there is so much behind them that they need to address and deal with, and they meet and they fall into each other and help each other and end up being the people they needed to help them through this last year of really being like a high school student.

they’re both sad—aka blue. they fall into each other. hence, the lyric fall into your blue being literally the PERFECT lyric for this.

• empty world

i’ve mentioned this fic before on this account because it is still my favorite thing that i’ve literally ever written so far in my life, but the title is also very important to me and to the fic. it has a double meaning!! this fic is three parts, right? part one is richie being forced to grow up in a world that is literally empty—he doesn’t know why, but everyone else is just gone, in the blink of an eye, and he’s alone, and it slowly gets more and more apparent that this loneliness gets to him and all he wants is to see his friends again, to see eddie again. part two is eddie growing up in a world where richie is “missing” and they can’t find him no matter how hard they try, and he runs on empty hoping that richie will shownup one day, and bases so much of his life around the fact that he knows a huge part of it is missing, and he may have the rest of the losers and he may go to college and get a job, but he still feels empty because he knows that a vital part of him is just gone. part three is the reunion and the aftermath and how they try to process the fact that all of this happened in the first place and the fight against pennywise and all of that, and then they win and that emptiness is gone because the losers are all together, eddie and richie are together, and they get to have the rest of their lives like this. there’s so much meaning packed into the words empty world that it’s insane!!

plus i wrote a literal song in order to have good names for the chapters, as well. so

part one — “i have not seen your face in so long” aka richie and being alone, doing everything he can to never forget the losers and eddie and trying to picture what they might look like as he gets older since he never got the chance to see them grow up with him

part two — “but i will never forget your name” aka eddie doing what he can to live his life after having to accept there’s nothing else he can do to try and find richie but in every single thing he does he remembers the boy he loved anyway and it constantly weighs him down

part three — “without you, this is an empty world” aka they feel that emptiness in them start to fill up and heal once they’re together again and they get their happy ending

• an old heart, a new home

another one that feels a bit self explanatory once you’ve read the fic, but it’s a reddie fic and this is a marvel blog so i doubt anyone has or will pfjjf, but the title captures the fic! an old heart (eddie, due to being cursed to live forever until blah blah magic magic i can’t remember the specifics—and to an extend, richie, too, since he is a reincarnation of the man eddie originally fell in love with) a new home (the apartment building, each other). plus this is a fic series that i’ve been considering taking down and turning into an original book for a while now, and if i did i’d keep the name the same bc i feel like it fits so well !!

and that’s it :D i listed too many but oh well !!

[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.

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

What My Thoughts On Morrissey Today

In response to my writing idea someone gave me I picked this.

So basically, Morrissey’s nationalism in recent years has gotten in the way of me being able to appreciate much that he comes out with. This is wild because a few short years ago, I stood up for Morrissey and actually still feel very moved by a portion of his music. It got me through some really rough patches in my twenties.

I realize he’s human and has faults and I don’t know him completely but just eh, living in Portland and having seen the stuff going on I’m kind of not in the place in my life right now where I want to even try to dissect him. It’s not just a fact that he’s wrong, but that it seems altogether very much in rejection of the things that made his music so special. It was difficult for me to come to terms with it or fully make sense of why someone who’s unashamed expression of witty despair in the 80’s and 90’s, someone who was outcasted from the overall closed mindedness lower working class post ww2 world of northern England, unafraid to be gay and completely the antithesis of some Tory ideal could be bought by some tired nationalist agenda. It’s even more difficult to realize where his alegianced lie in a world that is starting to reject democracy, embrace anti intellectualism in the guise of some form of selective politically motivated skeptism, and I see the world move farther and farther into fascism.

Margaret Thatcher attacked The Smiths. Morrissey was taken in for questioning more than once out of fear for what he represented. Morrissey and The Smiths has some subversive element that really did threaten the establishment and cultural norms, in a way that I feel was a little more multidimensional than even a lot of bands in the English punk scene. I guess for me, even though I grew up in the Inland northwest of the US, I felt there was a lot of parallels in common. I too detest a culture based around animal consumption, was really not a part of the world I grew up in and didn’t want to work in the factories, I liked art and music and nobody around me was really into that stuff.

I still like the Smiths and most of Morrisseys old music. I read his autobiography. I know he is a dramatic self involved individual but I did feel that up till somewhat recently his heart was in the right place and he just liked to be controversial, which is somewhat true still, but now I think there was more to it, some nationalistic self preservation instinct kicking in. Its actually more prevelant than I even realized and I honestly think it’s getting the best of anyone with money or power, even those who once stood for something counter culture. It’s hard to think of him as racist in the traditional sense with his adoration for Latin America, but he might just be so self involved that his popularity in those regions gave him a bias. He probably separates the racism from the nationalism, blindly not wanting to see how the two concepts are quite inseparable. Falling right into it.

Him saying “everyone prefers their own race”, is kind of wild to me. I genuinely even try to entertain this as a possibility like a philosophical thought experiment or a deep dive of some kind into my own subconscious part of me I am avoiding somehow, and it’s not true for me or a lot of people. Who the fuck is he to say who prefers who, and how backwards and dehumanizing. It’s pretty repulsive, and being he is bisexual and felt the discrimination of homophobia growing up, I’m inclined to think he’s not able to see that he’s become the enemy he once represented the antithesis of.

The guy I’ve kinda been with is Mexican. I totally love him. I look into people’s eyes and I talk to and open up to people and if I connect with them I connect with them. Not like I’m trying to play the I gotta friend who is this or that as some kind of example of much, or that I don’t see color or some faulty implication, but I have been in situations where I’m the only white person at a party and I prefer them because they are my friends and I love them, and the idea of classifying who I prefer is to imply that the white race should be my main concern as they are the same as me and therefore superior and they aren’t. There is nothing inherently special to me or a kinship felt with other white people for either their appearance or cultural background. It’s nice to compare notes of pop culture but a lot of stuff people go through is universal. I don’t take too much issue with multiculturalism. My white skin is meaningless to me. I can’t imagine being so inept as a person that the color of my skin actually defines my identity rather than my autonomy or ideas or relationships and what I stand for and my ability to appreciate and connect with other people.

What gets me is that in his support of the far right is not even in line with his hatred of police, or the hatred he had a few years ago. I mean, he has always gone on and on about police brutality, he’s been harassed by them on multiple occasions. He shows them on giant projectors at his shows. Police are a very important staple for fascism and nationalism, and he is now on their side after all this time? What changed? The lost young man he once was in 1981 feels very very different from who he has become and piecing together that transformation has been something I’ve been trying to do for awhile. I try to embrace both but they seem like similar but different people at odds with one another, like an uncle and nephew.

Here is what I imagine happened, and I could be wrong about that but I was a Morrissey fangirl for quite awhile. I literally had his signed autograph above my bed with dried flowers around it like a shrine for a few years, and got a grasp of Morrisseys personality in some ways.

To start off, Morrissey is a very poetic and sharp guy but he’s very miopic about his interests and has always had the tendency to see the world in a black and white framework. This in and of itself is not necessarily bad, but it’s the core framework of who he is as a person. When he was young it was very much more a reflection of his hatred for authoritarianism and deceitful people and phony artists. It’s not bad and it contributed to his music and lyrics and became the thing he was loved/hated for. The way he goes about it really has always been the double edged sword of his charm and vileness all in one and something people have mocked time and time again. He likes to be the guy in the corner that looks fine and smug and believes he sees the virtues/dispicable attributes of everyone in the room and there have been times in his life where he was, and though he won’t ever attack anyone face to face he’s quick to speak his mind about it.

Morrissey is also a very vain person. It’s subtle but he is very singular on certain aesthetics. At times it made him brilliant and poetic and a visionary. The Smiths album covers are beautiful. His look is both elegant and absurd in its grasp for purity. It also makes him seem like a twat and a pretentious prince. The fact that he seems to be these two things at once is what gave him that kind of controversial star quality at times.

Those are just two natural traits he has always been obvious with. And he struggled with it and focused on his passions and dealt with depression in the 80’s. Then fame happened and the smiths ended. He kept to himself more or less in the 80’s and 90’s aside from his disdain for Margaret Thatcher, but he kinda lost his mind a bit when his drummer took him to court in the nineties. Right or wrong he fought for two years and lost a good chunk of his money from The Smiths and when that happened he kind of was forced to start again. He lost his home. He developed that early personalized sense of self preservation and victimhood. I think he lost faith in many of his more naive ideals when he was younger. When you read his autobiography and know what happened it’s like he had to step out of his old life and into something else.

Then, he’s always been a vegetarian superiority type. I liked that he calls it as he sees it but because of his need to black and white think everything he came off as deluded and smug. I mean, to be fair you can’t seem to win with people who want to eat meat and I agreed with a portion of his message, but he never questioned himself. He’s not good at that, or doesn’t appear to be. My personal interpretation of him was to agree with part of it and give him the cred for being not afraid to be a dick and say it, but to see also that he was so dramatic and self absorbed about it to also laugh at him and the way he said it.

Now to go into fascism and why it grew on Morrissey. I see the world as kind of falling into polarization and flux because of the failures of neoliberalism. It’s a long political explanation, but essentially the systems that are in place do not provide answers to a lot of catestrophic issues. Democracy, though the best thing we have, is flawed. I really like philosophy and have studied this and the various arguments that are made, and I don’t have the answer either but fuck if I will ever side with nazis.

People are seaking solace in new ideas that are actually quite old, namely socialism and fascism that provide answers that democracy fails to. Capitalism eats itself and created monopolies and unfair wealth distribution, technology is making human labor obsolete and therefore not a stable means to base our economic system on, those with wealth are hoarding it and trying to separate themselves from the world they helped ruin. We are destroying the planet, running out of natural resources, many of our leaders in the last three or for decades have been flawed, there isn’t a universal safety net for things like natural disasters and pandemics and there are still places stripped of their natural resources where human slavery is prevalent and children starve to death. Neoliberalism has promised some great answer but has actually been the contributor to this entire mess.

We are seeing the beginning of the end now, and I am sure Morrissey isn’t going to waste that without putting himself in the victim shoes, the white traditional quintessentially Englishman of wit, who sees his beautiful world he grew up in disappearing in multiculturalism and seeing himself and the culture of old England as a dying breed, that needs to be preserved at any cost. He probably was on the fence about it for some time, weighing out his disdain for authoritarianism, having a bougouis experience with the seemingly left leaning media that he never managed to win over and called him out for his every misstep. I bet he had a friend who opened him up to the idea that we don’t know about who changed his mind. I bet cuts in taxes for the rich helped him preserve his wealth that he definitely feels entitled to after losing the first portion of it in the court case. He’s rich, famous and old and often times that leads to being quite out of touch, even to the best intellectuals. He lost his mother who was dear to him and I can imagine, even though it’s not political, it created a deep sense of emptiness and dis ease. Nationalism often times gives people a sense of security and identity and purpose. And the idea of having an unpopular opinion excited him just as it always has, gave him the opportunity to be the smug poet in the corner of the party, and he sold out. Hard. And he’s probably proud of it.

He’s irrelevant now. Honestly his latest album wasn’t good, and I like later Morrissey. He doesn’t have the same energy. I just feel like he’s grasping at something that he never fully ever had. What’s weird to me is that I’m writing about him like this when honestly, I could also easily write about how beautiful and meaningful the Smiths and Morrissey has been to me. I can’t explain how it cut through the extreme isolation I’ve been in, not to mention how the Smiths really changed music for the better. There’s always going to be a part of me that wants to defend him. I’m not saying we cancel him. I kinda think he canceled himself. I’m not going to try to not enjoy the smiths or morrissey when I hear him, and I will still hear it and enjoy it but I’m not ever going to spend my own money on filling his pockets. I still nostalgically enjoy the person he was a very long time ago and what he used to represent. I realize at the end of the day he’s just a flawed person. But also fuck fascism, and fuck Morrissey for caving into it.

I mean, at the end of the day the hardest part is that I made him a part of my identity and I just had to stop doing that in a simplistic way. I tossed out a morrissey shirt I had (it’s was a cheesy shirt anyway), and I found new genres of music and while I still love the smiths it’s not like I can’t do without them every day. I break down and listen to them sometimes. I know the songs so well. I listen to Xiu Xiu which is a modern day similar equivalent in some ways but is absolutely better and the singer Jamie Stewart is fucking gold.

[shirtlesssammy]

15x12: Galaxy Brain

Welcome back to the new recaps! We’ll be doing recaps on Thursdays now that the show airs on Mondays. 

Then:

Remember when death was welcome and we had no hope?

Now:

Four Weeks Ago:

Earth 2

At an unassuming Radio Shed, a woman casually strolls around getting creeped on by the store clerk. He’s just an eager salesman, but dude…(Also, I’m a bad fan and had to Shazam the song playing. I thought it was quite on the nose with the whole “I had a dream that I ate your heart” considering Jack’s recent activities. It turns out to be Louden Swain, and all you real fans must have been dying laughing at how perfectly placed the song was.) 

The dude is despondent when the woman leaves, but then a new customer arrives, eyeing up the wall of televisions. It’s Chuck. The guy gives his best spiel, but Chuck isn’t interested. “It’s monologue time,” he states.

Chuck explains his twisted life story. 

And shows us the world:

Anybody else wish we would have had a glimpse of Squirrel World in these television sets? Well, Chuck waxes poetic about all the worlds he’s created and how none of them bring him as much happiness as the world with the real Sam and Dean. “They challenge me. They disappoint me. They surprise me. They’re the ones.” Chuck then decides that it’s time to clear the board and get rid of everything but the world with the real Sam and Dean (WEEPS OVER THE “FAILED SPIN-OFFS” LINE. BOBO WE’RE SO SORRY.) 

Sioux Falls.

Our World.

Now.

We find Jody Mills having too much fun investigating the death of a cow. She gets a call from Alex and we learn that life keeps humming along for our Wayward women.

Once off the phone, Jody sees a flash of motion from a barn and heads to check it out. Someone attacks her from behind. JODY! 

At the bunker, Sam, Dean, and Cas discuss what to do about Jack and his deal with Death. Sam’s concerned because Jack doesn’t have his soul still. We cut to Jack looking at the carvings of DW, SW, AND MW. He lightly grazes the MW. We know exactly where his soulless mind is. 

He heads to his bedroom and he’s surprised when a reaper appears. 

Sam continues to question the plan of Billie’s that Jack will kill God. Cas fully trusts his little nephilim son. Dean’s spent some time with Death and thinks she has it figured out. 

The reaper tries to reassure Jack that Billie’s plan will work as long as he follows the rules --lay low, wait for instructions, don’t use his powers. They need to keep Chuck out of the loop. 

Sam interrupts the conversation and Jack lies about who he was talking to. Sam tries reassuring Jack that they’re very happy to have him home and that they will help him.  

Meanwhile, recently reunited husbands share a celebratory drink now that they’re family is back together. Cas can’t help but gloat over how right he was and celebrate his faith in Jack. Dean wants to celebrate getting revenge. I want to celebrate these two yahoos talking again! 

Dean gets a call from Jody. She’s in trouble. 

Sam and Dean head out and find Jody tied up in the barn. Dark Kaia attacks! She’s seriously badass, but no competition for the Winchesters + one Mills. She wants her spear back --and more to the point, she wants to go home. Sam wants to know why she even wants to go back to that place. She tells them the world is dying. She knows this because she still has a connection to our Kaia. YEP. Kaia is STILL ALIVE PEOPLE. Dark Kaia left her the tools to stay alive, and she has, but Dark Kaia wants to go back. And now the others want to save Kaia. 

At the bunker, Cas and Jack bond over a fun game of Connect Four. 

Sam, Dean, and Jody arrive back at the bunker --with Dark Kaia in tow.

*JODY AND CAS FINALLY MEET ALERT*

They all agree that Jack can’t use his powers to help Dark Kaia get home, but they have to save their Kaia another way. 

While they figure that out, they chain Dark Kaia to the kitchen table and give her a magazine to read. 

Jack thinks he’s found a great spell but John Winchester had to ruin everything and kill off one of the necessary ingredients. How that man is able to ruin things this far in the grave will never cease to amaze me. Dean sends Jack to check in on Jody and Cas. 

Jody and Cas discuss their almost daughter, Claire, and her quest for revenge. Jody tells Cas that Claire loved Kaia, and Jody doesn’t want to tell Claire about this recent development. It would be too much for her to bear if things don’t work out. 


Jack morosely peeks in on the stalled progress of Jody and Cas, then stops to talk to Alt!Kaia. She’s angry, accusing him of encouraging Kaia to make the jump to the other world. It’s his fault that Kaia is in pain and about to die. 

Alt!Kaia wanted to visit Earth Prime because it looked comfortable, but she finds it cold instead and hard to live in. She begs Jack for help in a way that makes you think she’s never begged for a thing in her entire life before. Jack dreamwalks with her and confirms that Kaia is trapped in the Bad Place and an all-swallowing storm is coming for her. 

Jack heads into the library, advertising his intent to the Winchesters that he’ll save Kaia from the Bad Place. Merle, the reaper from earlier, appears. She is…ENTIRELY unimpressed by this plan. Saving Kaia is “Winchester dumb,” Merle insists. 

If Jack tries to save Kaia, Merle is totally running off and tattling on him to Death. Jack reads the room and calls her bluff. “Go,” he tells her. He’ll open a rift with his magic and Merle can just DEAL with Billie’s wrath when she comes running. Merle’s not so hot on that prospect, instead reluctantly coughing up a plan B. The cosmic warding Amara removed from the bunkers is the key!

But FIRST our patron saint of long suffering salt, Merle, insults the Winchesters’ rune repair work. The Winchesters re-warded their walls against demons and monsters, but didn’t come close to the “cosmic grade stuff.” 

She can rattle up the warding temporarily to block Chuck’s perception, but she’ll need to add a little battery power to the attempt. She demands the use of “your angel” to properly run the spell.

Sam, our very best witch, recites the spell. Runes glow along the bunker walls and edges as the shielding spell takes hold. 

Heading out, the Winchesters agree that the plan is reckless, stupid…and it FEELS REALLY GOOD. They’re back to their roots, baby! Give me my dumb, poorly planned, big hearted missions any day.

Cas corners Jody, asking her to stay behind as well. He never bonded with Claire - and couldn’t given their history - but Jody did. He doesn’t want to picture a world where Claire loses both Kaia and Jody. The truth settles over Jody like a thick wool blanket and she agrees to stay behind. 

For Soft Cas Science:

Cas and Merle supercharge the wardings. 

Once the wardings are active, Jack slings out a rift to the Bad Place. Alt!Kaia smiles at last and ducks inside, quickly followed by the Winchesters. The Bad Place is rainy and windy and full of red-eyed monsters LOOK OUT! 

Alt-Kaia realizes that the monsters are just scared of a roiling gray storm and they head off to find Kaia. Dean greets her with a “Hey, kid,” and a hug! KAIA IS SAVED! 

Alt-Kaia, however, decides to stay behind. The Bad Place is her home, its ending be damned. The Winchesters race off with Kaia and Alt!Kaia greet the oncoming nothingness with open arms. 

They make it back through the rift and Jody gives Kaia a great big MOM HUG. Kaia’s eyes slip closed. She’s safe at last. 

A little while later, Kaia has availed herself of the bunker’s excellent water pressure or possibly even that amazing bathtub. She’s now wearing Jack’s spare sweatpants. Bless. 

She tells Jack that she survived by anchoring herself around a children’s rhyme her mother sang to her: Miss Mary Mack. Jack attempts to grasp another tiny sliver of humanity. Good luck, Jack. Many of us work on that to this very day!

Jody invites Kaia to live with her. “Will Claire be there?” Kaia asks and it’s…REAL CUTE GUYS. Wayward Sisters lives on, even if it’s off screen. ALL THE HEARTS

Merle dumps a big soaked blanket over the celebration. “If I cared for a second about saving that girl, I guess I’d say that was a victory,” she says with a weary sigh. I love this GRIM reaper. Sadly, she’s not long for this world. Billie’s scythe jabs through Merle’s throat and tears her into little cosmic pieces. 

Billie CANNOT BELIEVE these Winchesters. “Bending the rules already, Jack.”

“I tried to call you,” Jack all but squeaks out. 

No excuse, bud. She’s not mad, she’s disappointed. Billie explains that she sees the big picture, even if nobody else does. All the worlds except this one are dying. 

“It’s Chuck,” Cas surmises, and Billie rewards him with a no-shit-sherlock look for the ages.

Sam demands answers. “When I became Death,” Billie says, “I inherited Death’s knowledge and Death’s library. And in Death’s library, everyone has a book. Even God.” The books write themselves, in a wonderful bit of LIFE HAPPENS. Billie explains. “After God made the world…he wanted more. But he needed to create a perfect harmony. A swiss watch so this world could keep tick tick ticking in his absence.” Chuck built himself into the framework of reality. The Winchesters and Jack are in Chuck’s book. “This is your destiny. You are the messengers of God’s destruction.” 

Back at Radio Shed, Chuck watches his worlds get torn to shreds by horrible weather events and war. The hapless Radio Shed employee Chuck chained to his service looks exhausted, worn to shreds from serving the capricious god. (Definitely no symbolism HERE, nope.) He’s confident that Chuck will spare his planet. Right? RIGHT? 

“Everything’s just fine,” Chuck reassures him before leaving the Radio Shed. As he strolls from the shop, he tosses his empty cup aside as meteors streak in to destroy the planet.

That’s Win-Quotester Dumb:

It’s monologue time

Sir, this is a Radio Shed

You’ve got four of the same color connected so…given the name of the game I assume that means you won

One little measly life on the line and you’re willing to risk it all? That’s not just dumb. That’s Winchester dumb

Disobeying cosmic entities…doing the dumb, right thing…feels like we’re back

How’s it feel to be back? [silence] Good talk

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[vagrantblvrd]

Superhero/supervillain AU where Jeremy’s power is shapeshitfing something along the lines of Mystique.

Pair that with his incredible ability to mislead/lie/etc., and there’s an amazing AU of superhero!Jeremy who is recruited by government agencies/superhero teams for undercover work and so on.

Spends 99% of his adult career in the superhero field as someone else - guy has henchpersoned for the most vile superheros on Earth (and other worlds, because why not) and all that?

Maybe his bosses take advantage of his skills/abilities - God knows younger Jeremy wasn’t super bright - and maybe he’s responsible for a few injustices. (Wrongfully convicted people that begged him to think about what he was doing and he just thought they were trying to flip him?)

And you know at some point one of his bosses is sekritly a baddie and frames Jeremy for some horrendous incident.

A bus of nuns chaperoning orphans on their way to adopt kittens and puppies rescued from breeding mills that featured in a news segment with  Sarah McLachlan in the background because someone on the news crew forgot to put their phone on silent and it’s their ringtone because they love sadness or some shit, idk, but it makes Jeremy look awful, okay?

He has to go on the run and the only one he can turn to is, you know, this supervillain type in Ryan?

Former superhero0ish government agent/whatever Jeremy was who got burned the same way and fakes his death to come back as a masked supervillain.

He was supposed to be Jeremy’s next assignment but Ryan got a new head henchperson in Gavin instead, and just.

Yes.

The three of them working together to expose the baddie who framed Jeremy because common enemy/goals?

And Jeremy realizing how he’s been used all this time.

Ryan is like.

Obviously doesn’t trust Jeremy, but he knows what it’s like to be in his position? But he can’t go easy on Jeremy so he and Gavin basically haze him?

Send him off to do the grunt work when something like that needs doing. (Lol at him over the cameras they’ve got watching him as he has to slog through the sewers looking for an entrance to some facility or other they plan to infiltrate. One not on the blueprints - and doesn’t actually exist because someone gave them bad intel and the knew that? But they don’t let Jeremy in on it until he returns to the base/lair and is like no success, guys.

AND.

Sparring sessions with Gavin on the sidelines on his laptop or whatever and Jeremy and Ryan really going at it?

Ryan intentionally provoking Jeremy, needling him about all his past missions and how many times did he do the baddie’s dirty work for him? How many lives has he ruined and so on until Jeremy mcfreaking snaps.

Has been trying not to think about that until they stop the baddie and he can wallow all he wants? But Ryan won’t let him.

Ryan totally lets Jeremy pin him, this close to actually killing him in his anger?

But then Gavin’s there, calm and cold and ruthless with this knife or what have you at Jeremy’s throat and a polite, “Perhaps you should rethink things, Jeremy,” or “I don’t think so,” or something else super cool sounding my brain won’t cough up right now, but like.

The first time Jeremy sees Gavin as the threat he is and not just this somewhat bumbling henchperson?

Also.

He looks at Ryan and the isn’t gloating like he thought he would be? Hes just. Got this look on his face that’s a bit satisfied because you know the same thing happened to Ryan before, something that made him take a good long look at his life and the things he’d done thinking he was in the right and just, idk.

Then that whole sequence of Jeremy really re-evaluating his life up to that point. All the shit he did as a government agent/superhero/??? and how everything went wrong when he was framed.

Even the way he’d been looking at Ryan and Jeremy as temporary allies, useful in the moment but no real reason to give a fuck about them once everything was over? (Except there was this part of him that had grown to like them, even if they were bastards to him at first?)

While this is going on one of his old bosses finds him and offers him a deal - help them put a stop to the baddie and they can clear his name. Reinstate him, promote him, whatever, because they’re desperate and think Jeremy’s just going to fall in line that easily now. (Oh, and when Jeremy mentions Ryan and Gavin he’s told they  have to be stopped as well because supervillains??? Duh, Jeremy.)

Anyway, Jeremy tells them he’ll think about it and goes back to the base/lair.

Ryan has this look on his face like he knows something happened, but he doesn’t mention it. Turns back to Gavin who’s briefing him - and other henchpersons - about some new intel they got while Jeremy was gone.

Gavin glances at him, and Jeremy has the feeling he knows something is up too, but like Ryan doesn’t bring it up.

This intel that will help them get the baddie for sure this time and everyone works on some plan to that end.

Jeremy feeling guilty as hell the whole time because on one hand he could have his life back, get a damn promotion he should have gotten ages ago in the bargain and all that?

And all he has to do is betray Ryan and Gavin and the others who took him in when his life got all fucked up.

He keeps getting these looks from Ryan and Gavin - and like. Other henchpersons, but no one says anything.

The sparring sessions and whatnot continue and one day Jeremy’s like oh, fuck me, because Ryan and Gavin are going at it in the training room, right?

All Ryan’s power and strength up against Gavin’s speed and agility and it’s the cliche of it looking like they’re dancing rather than fighting?

Because, look.

There’s probably some history between them too, you know?

Former agent/superhero Ryan and this absolutel fucking bastard in Gavin who’s some internationally renowned thief/assassin and their flirty/sexual tension-filled encounters over the years?

Gavin being the one to help Ryan when he was betrayed by his bosses/whatever and all this trust and the whatnot, and of course they know one another’s fighting style forwards and backwards and all that.

Anyway.

They’re having a fucking blast, trading quips and pithy one-liners and it’s like. Jeremy doesn’t even know because it goes so far beyond the oh, no, he/they’re hot thing into something completely else.

And then!

The day of the Final Battle and the three of them at the forefront and Jeremy being forced to choose between getting his old life back, or....not.

Baddie’s been stopped/killed by his own hand because of course, and now it’s this one last choice on Jeremy’s part.

Ryan took a bad hit in the fight and Gavin protecting him with his body and -

He’s not even giving Jeremy a pleading look, with Jeremy standing there and choice to save them or destroy them in the pal of his hand (to be all fricking poetic about it), no.

He’s just watching Jeremy like hey, no, he gets it, he does, and also after all this, what’s your decision gong be, hmm? like he’s expecting Jeremy to betray them.

So of course Jeremy gets angry, fucking pissed, because he didn’t do all this personal growth shit for nothing, you know?

Turns his back on the people who went to him for help, expected him to fall in line like a good little sheep or whatever and tells them to fuck off.

Causes a distraction and calls in some of the henchpersons for a emergency exctraction and they hightail it to a sekrit bunker or whatever Ryan ha set up somewhere.

Jeremy sticks around long enough to make sure everyone’s going to be okay and then gets the hell out of there. (Guilty as hell and thinking he’s more than worn out his his welcome with Ryan and Gavin and it’s just better this way?)

Roams aimlessly around for a bit, does acts of superheroism and whatnot when he runs into a bad situation and then moves on.

And then, of course, there’s this time he superheroes his little heart out abd gets abducted by these henchpersons?

Doesn’t know who they work for because nondescript clothing/armor, and gets taken to some base/lair and put into your standard interrogation scene?

Uncooperative as hell with the asshole using the voice modulator asking him all these questions? (Kind of thinks this is it, this is how he dies in some assholes hidden base/lair/bunker like a loser.)

But then!

One of Jeremy’s answers is just an incredibly creative way to tell someone to fuck off an die? And the asshole with the voice modulator fucking loses it, starts laughing like an asshole and the modulator gets turned off or something because after a moment Jeremy recognizes the laughter.

Fucking Gavin.

Wheezing and squeaking until he turns the PA or whatever off, and the enforce type in the room with Jeremy sighs.

Looks up at the observation window that goes does cool high-tech shit to go from foggy white/reflective mirror to see-through glass and Gavin waves down at them, stupid grin on his face and still laughing.

The enforcer type sighs again and reaches up to pull off the mask/helmet/whatever and of fucking course it’s Ryan.

Him and Gavin looking all over the damn place for Jeremy all this time.

Well, okay. They gave him a few months to get his shit together, but when he just went on with his moping and it stopped being productive/whatever, they decided enough was enough.

Which is how they got to this little point in time.

Ryan sits down across from Jeremy and just. Looks at him.

Jeremy who hasn’t been taking the best care of himself and all that and just.

“You’re an idiot.”

Which Jeremy knows full well?

Doesn’t get the feeling Ryan and Gavin are going to kill him, because nah, but. There’s probably some yelling in his future.

Which, yes?

But also smooches.

First though, long involved talk. Awkward flirting with Jeremy  - fucking finally - realizing Ryan and Gavin are all oh, no, he’s hot about him and have been for a while. Didn’t do anything about it before now, because no way to know if he’d turn on them or not, and best not to complicate things further?

Once Jeremy picked them/their side over getting his old life back they thought it might be okay to test the waters and see if he was likewise interested in them?

But then he ran, and they were like, well okay, thinking that was as good as an answer? (And then they found out he was just. Getting himself in deeper and deeper in all the moping and going nowhere good, and just. Yeah.)

But now!

Awkward flirting and awkward dates and someone being daring enough to kiss someone goodnight on the cheek and all the dumb idiots in love shit I love.

And then the smooches and the whatnot.

Also the three of them being ~supervillains and the whatnot, because yes.

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (23/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I wrote this entire story in some kind of pregnancy-fueled Mexican-food-craving haze, and I didn’t realize just how much time was between some certain big plot points until I was proof-reading this. That said, I’m not changing any of that and am literally impatient to share all of the upcoming chapters with you wonderful people! @resident-of-storybrooke​ has assured me that they’re actually good. lol. Not entirely sure that I trust her 😉

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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-/-

I need your post-series comparison report by nine this morning.

You were late with it last time, and that made me late with my report. This is why you should probably stick to on-air reporting instead of continuing to write articles when we have people for that.

W.O.

“Asshole,” Emma mutters to herself after reading that blatantly condescending email from Walsh.

She’s been in the office for approximately fifteen minutes, most likely a little less than that, and the first thing that Emma saw after logging into her computer was an email from Walsh about her report on the difference between playing at home and away, specifically when it comes to playing the Red Sox. Two weeks ago, the Yankees lost every single game they played in Boston, especially that epic game where they lost 3-17 the night Killian was the starting pitcher, and then over the last four days, they’ve won every game while in New York.

Home team advantage taking on a whole new meaning because it is seriously in play this year.

And Emma doesn’t want to get too excited, doesn’t want to get too ahead of herself because anything can happen for the rest of the season, but only a month and a half of the regular season is left and there’s no way the Yankees aren’t making the playoffs. Once they get there, who knows if they’ll make it to the Series?

There’s a chance, though, and that’s all that matters.

As a fan, she’s excited. As Killian’s girlfriend and a reporter for the team, she’s over the freaking moon. It would be insane for them to back it up, but she’s got to slow her roll.

Slow her roll and send Walsh this report so that she doesn’t have to deal with him anymore today. Working with her ex is fine since it’s not an everyday thing, only an office day thing, but the man has got to get the stick out of his ass. He cheated on her, belittled her out of jealousy for her success in her job, and yet he acts like it’s an inconvenience for them to have to spend a miniscule amount of time together. He’s probably sitting at his desk thinking of ways to torture her while drinking a giant bottle of Mountain Dew. She always hated that he did that. He could have at least had the diet version instead of consuming all of that extra sugar.

But whatever. It doesn’t matter. None of it does.

Ruth: Do you think you’d like to come to Portland in October? Or maybe sometime before Thanksgiving? I was thinking you could bring your boyfriend so that I can meet him.

Emma reads the text, but she doesn’t answer it quite yet. She needs time to look at her calendar and have time to ask Killian if he wants to go. Hell, she needs time to figure out if that’s what she even wants because, wow, bringing a boyfriend home is not something she’s ever done. Neal literally never wanted to come home with her, never wanted to go to David’s, never wanted to do anything that wasn’t in his control, and Walsh was just…

Shit. She needs to email him now and stop letting her mind go down this path.

Today is a good day. Nothing is going to ruin it. If she repeats that enough times it’s sure to come true.

“Oh my God,” Ruby groans as she steps into Emma’s office, barely able to squeeze in past the chair that’s keeping the door open before sitting in it, “I am ready for this season to be over. Why is it always so jam-packed? Do people really need to watch this much baseball? There are so many damn games.”

“Nope. They really don’t.”

“I feel like you should not be able to say that because of your job and the fact that your boyfriend is a freaking baseball player.”

“Rubes,” Emma hisses, twisting in her chair and looking out the small glass window in her office, “shut up.”

Ruby’s eyes widen, her hands immediately going to cover her mouth, and that might be the fastest Ruby has ever stopped talking in the entirety of her life.

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologizes before getting up from the chair and moving it so that she can shut the door behind her. Damn this small office. “I didn’t even think about it.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like you have a giant poster saying that I’m dating him. There are just a lot of people constantly walking by this door, so we can’t really talk about it with the door open.”

“My lips are sealed. Also, are you ever going to get a bigger office?”

“I don’t even know why I have an office. Like, honestly. I keep waiting for them to realize that I don’t need it and to give it away to someone who works here more than once a week. Then I could do all of this stuff from home.”

“That is the life. Though, I think you would probably never put on real pants again.”

“Yoga pants are real pants, and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on.”

“Whatever,” Ruby yawns, covering her mouth with her hands. “I’m ready to go home already. Do you think we have time to go home before the game?”

“Considering we have to get out to the stadium in less than an hour and I still have to finish this report for Walsh, I’m thinking not.”

“Ugh,” Ruby groans, propping her feet up against the walls like she owns the place, “why does he continue to exist? Can’t he go work in another department or something?”

“I imagine,” Emma sighs, twisting back in her chair to actually get work done on the report, “that he stays simply to annoy me, but I tend not to think about him too much.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because you’re getting fucked much better now.”

Emma huffs. “Why are you the way that you are?”

“You know, I think it comes from being raised by my grandmother instead of my mother, and I –”

“Rhetorical question,” Emma hums, pulling up her file with her notes from the last few games up so that she can fill the last bit of information in while they talk. “So, Ruth has asked me if I want to bring Killian to Portland.”

“I thought you just said that we couldn’t say his name.”

“We can’t yell it with the door open. We can say it quietly in here.”

“Gotcha, gotcha,” Ruby sighs as Emma keeps working. “How do you feel about the boyfriend going home to meet Ruth? That’s kind of a big step. I mean, he’s already met David and Mary Margaret, but that’s different. They’re more like friends than anything else.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that.”

“This is, like, ‘I see a future with you and want everyone I love to love you’ kind of stuff.”

“Are you trying to freak me out?”

“Only a little. I could have brought up marriage and babies, but I figured that would have you jumping through the ceiling to escape the conversation.”

Emma’s heart kind of feels like it’s going to jump through the ceiling of this conversation. Why did she even bring this up? Probably because she does actually want to talk about it, and Ruby will be the most honest with her because she doesn’t seem to have any kind of filter in that wonderful brain of hers.

‘Yeah, let’s avoid the marriage and babies stuff.”

“Okay, so barring those things,” Ruby sighs, getting up from the chair to perch herself on the edge of Emma’s desk so Emma can actually see her while talking, “how do you feel about this? I know you love Killian because you guys are ridiculously adorable together, which makes me happy for you even if I sometimes find it disgusting, but I also know that you like to freak out about relationship stuff.”

“I’m…” Emma rolls back in her chair and tilts her head up to look at Ruby while she tugs her bottom lip with her teeth. “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal, really, because Killian has met everyone else and we do travel pretty often together. But that’s for work, you know? This is…this is moving forward in a way.”

“That’s a good thing, hon. People in good relationships move forward. Graham and I dated for awhile, then moved in together, even if you do live with us because rent is ridiculous, and then one day we’re going to get married. When you love someonesomeone,who is good to you, that’s what you do, even if every relationship roadmap is different with different destinations. It’s scary as hell, but sometimes you’ve got to do scary shit.”

Sometimes you’ve got to do scary shit.

“You sounded really philosophical until you got to the end there.”

“Eh,” she scoffs, flipping her hair over her shoulders, “I think all great philosophers should talk like me. It’s real. Good advice doesn’t have to be poetic. It’s just got to be good.”

Emma hums in response, crossing her legs over each other and readjusting her position while she thinks over everything that Ruby has just said. “So, you think I should talk to Killian about it and then text Ruth back?”

“That’s exactly what you should do. And then you should finish this damn report, send it to your asshole ex with a picture of a middle finger attached, and then we should get something to eat on the way to the stadium.”

-/-

The Yankees win an easy game against the Orioles that afternoon, as they usually do, and it’s a smooth day at the office for all involved. Killian is particularly cheeky in his post-game interview, he and Will bantering off each other, and Emma has to bite her tongue to keep herself from telling Killian that she loves him live on-air.

Talk about a disaster waiting to happen there.

-/-

“Darling, can you get me a napkin?”

“Get it yourself, Jones.”

“Emma is literally standing in the kitchen.”

“You are a big boy. You can get your napkin yourself.”

“You just asked her to bring you a glass of water.”

“That is different.”

Emma rolls her eyes at Ruby and Killian bickering with each other. It’s honestly how they talk. Emma doesn’t think that they’re capable of speaking in normal terms, and as obnoxious as it can be, it’s kind of hilarious. Those two are pretty much a friendship made in heaven because of their wit and ability to make anything a dirty joke, but it results in a hell of a lot of bantering.

Or bickering.

Emma’s not sure which one, but if the look on Graham’s face is any indication, it’s a combination of both.

“We’re going to have to stop allowing them to spend time with each other, aren’t we?” Graham asks as he reaches over her to grab a napkin that the restaurant provided them with when they ordered take-out. “I think they might kill each other.”

“Eh, it might just be the natural progression of things.”

“True. Might as well just let it happen.”

“I can hear the two of you,” Ruby huffs, leaning over from the couch so that she can get a handful of chips out of the bowl before standing and walking to the kitchen, “and it’s totally not cool that you’d just let the two of us die. You are supposed to love us.”

“To be fair, I just met Killian, so I’m not sure that we love each other quite yet,” Graham teases.

Killian winks, the biggest smirk stretching across his lips, and it makes Emma’s stomach flutter. “Give it time. I’m irresistible. Ask Emma.”

“He’s not,” Emma sighs, taking the napkins out of Graham’s hands and walking them the few feet over to Killian before sitting down next to him on the couch, plucking a chip from his plate instead of the bowl. “He pretty much had to beg me to get me to date him.”

“Um, no, you definitely asked me out, Swan.”

“Only because you wouldn’t ask me out.”

“We have talked about this,” Killian breathes, scooping up a forkful of his rice. “And besides, it’s a moot point now.”

“Maybe. Are you going to eat the rest of your queso?”

Killian hands her his bowl in answer. Him watching his eating habits more carefully is quite possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to her even if she has to cut down on the pop-tarts in the morning. That’s probably for the best. She’d rather waste her calories on things like queso and grilled cheese. Killian has learned to make a really good grilled cheese sandwich, and that may be the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for her.

Obviously she has some really high (low) standards, but it’s the little things.

Cheese is the way to a woman’s heart. At least to hers. There are some crazy people out there who don’t like cheese.

Crazy.

“Why didn’t we get margaritas with our food again?” Ruby asks as she and Graham both settle back into the living room. They barely have enough room for the three people who live here, let alone four. “I really want a margarita.”

“We’ve got an eleven o’clock game tomorrow.”

“You two do. I don’t.”

Emma reaches to the side to slap Killian’s shoulder, nearly spilling her queso dip, and what a tragedy that would be. “You have training.”

“Not at eleven in the morning.”

“Poor people having to wake up and be at work before nine in the morning to start work at eleven. However do all of you live?”

Everyone’s eyes move toward Graham, evil stares likely there, and instead of backing away, he shrugs his shoulders and takes a bite of his taco, completely unbothered.

“Shut up and eat your tacos, babe.”

He holds up the taco he just took a bite out of. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Killian chuckles beside her, lifting his arm over Emma’s shoulder so that she can lean into him and into his warmth. “And you say Ruby and I bicker.”

“I’m starting to think maybe it’s Ruby that’s the problem.”

“I,” Ruby scoffs, reaching forward to grab the remote to turn the TV on, “am picking the movie we watch tonight because all of you are assholes, and I deserve this.”

They watch Pride and Prejudice because it’s the first thing Ruby finds on TV, something that Emma definitely isn’t going to complain about. She’s usually not one for period romances, most of them a little too damsel in distress with no backbone for her, but this is one that she can appreciate. Plus, Keira Knightly is pretty much the greatest at being in movies that aren’t modern. The woman wouldn’t know how to act in a movie where cell phones exists.

(Okay, maybe she would, but that’s entirely beside the point.)

Ruby and Graham go to bed before the movie is even over, Ruby falling asleep on the couch with chip crumbs on her shirt, and Graham has to coax her into getting up, telling her that she’s not going to be able to move her neck in the morning if she doesn’t move. Ruby pretty much tells him to fuck off in that charming way that she has, but she does get up, slowly wandering back down the hallway to their bedroom until the door shuts behind her.

She and Killian manage to make it until the end, and even though she’s been up since early this morning and spent so much time outside, Emma’s not tired. She’s not tired as she and Killian move to clean up their food, wrapping up the leftovers and putting them in the fridge, before moving back to her own bedroom so that they can go through their routines to get ready for bed. Emma kind of feels like they’ve been spending most of their nights together even though she knows that it’s not true. It’s been two or three times a week, mostly depending on her schedule or Killian’s game schedule, and it’s not something they ever really plan.

But she likes having him here or likes being over at his place, even though she isn’t the best at sharing the comforter or not sprawling out in the middle of the bed, and it’s a nice thing to get to have someone to spend time with like this.

Today has been a good day.

Killian is in bed before her, the white of her comforter pulled up over his lap to cover his sweatpants, and instead of getting under the covers herself, Emma moves to straddle his lap, placing her knees on either side of his thighs while her hand plays with the chain around his neck, moving the cool metal back and forth in her palm.

Killian arches his right brow at her, that side of his lips tugging up to, and it makes her laugh before she places her hands on his bare shoulders all the while Killian reaches up to tuck her loose strands of hair behind her ear, thumb running across her cheekbone in a gentle motion.

His eyes could not possibly be more blue.

“What is it that you think you’re doing, Swan?”

“What do you mean?”

A low hum comes from Killian as the hand that’s not caressing her cheek moves to her waist, snaking up underneath her t-shirt to rest against the bare skin of her stomach.

“This position isn’t exactly indicative of us going to bed.”

“Is it not?” Emma teases, dipping her head down to press her lips to the tip of his nose. “Because I’m very comfortable right now.”

She does a pointed roll of her hips and revels in the way that Killian’s eyes shut at the movement.

“I think the queso is getting to that head of yours.”

Emma shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

And then Killian is tugging her closer and moving his lips over hers, soft and slow and completely and utterly thorough while his hand tangles into her hair, fingers pulling at the strands, and her hands move from his shoulders to his neck, holding him steady. He tastes like her toothpaste, far too minty, and his skin smells like the soap she keeps next to her sink that definitely should not be used for skincare. It’s weirdly refreshing for him to smell like her things, if not a little overwhelming. Last week she used Killian’s bodywash when she was at his place because she didn’t have any of her own, and while she used to be entirely attracted to the smell, carrying it around on her all day was far too overwhelming.

How do men live smelling that strongly of some kind of Irish spring or mountain brook?

That’s not how either of those things smell either. Or, at least, she thinks.

But that’s entirely beside the point when shivers are spreading across her body at the feeling of Killian’s tongue moving inside her mouth. It’s warm and wet against hers, the feeling that same high that she always seems to be chasing with him, and her fingers inch up his neck to curl into the thick strands of his hair while she groans.

“Bloody hell do I love that sound.”

Heat immediately rises to her cheeks, but it’s also curling between her thighs at the heady sound of Killian’s voice and the demanding pressure of his kiss as his legs shift beneath them to move the two of them until Emma’s back is pressed against the mattress and Killian is hovering over her, his lips trailing across the expanse of skin at her neck that has the simmering heat between them continuing all the while Emma tries to catch her breath.

Every time she thinks she’s got it back, though, Killian nips at her collarbone or nibbles on her ear, and it all evaporates into thin air.

“Oh fuck,” Killian grunts, and Emma takes it as an invitation to trace her nails along his back, pressing her hips up to his to get a little more friction. “No, love, fuck.”

Her eyes snap to him at the more pained exasperation in his voice, and it’s then that Emma realizes that he’s stopped kissing her neck and has his forehead pressed there instead, his body not moving over hers.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“My,” he grits, his voice dark but not in the way that she wants it to be, “leg is fucking cramping.”

Emma doesn’t mean to, not really, but the laugh bubbles from deep within her belly until it’s passing through her lips and she can’t contain herself. It’s not really even funny. Cramps and weird noises and all of that jazz are as normal as can be during sex – don’t even get her started on lock jaw – but it’s usually not when they’ve only been making out for five minutes. This is some kind of new record.

“I’m glad you’re so amused by my pain, love.”

“No, no,” she laughs, wishing that she hadn’t but still not able to stop herself, “I promise you I’m not.”

“Then what the bloody hell are you laughing at?”

“Your pain.”

Killian groans before rolling off of her, the loss of his body heat immediate, and she watches as his arm reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his eyes still shut so tightly that those little crinkles have shown up around his skin. It’s adorable even if he’d probably like to chop his leg off right now.

“I hate you.”

“That is entirely untrue,” Emma sighs, leaning down to brush her lips over his cheek before moving across the mattress so that she can grab onto Killian’s leg and rest his calf on her lap, fingers digging into the flesh to start to massage it. “I have it on good authority that you love me in spite of all of the weird things about me like the fact that I laugh at your cramps.”

Killian’s hand moves from his face until his arm is flopping against the mattress in what has to be the most dramatic fashion in the world. “That’s probably the least weird thing about you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the weirdest?”

Killian props himself up on his elbows, his eyes obviously taking her in as he thinks, and she squeezes his calf a little bit too hard in response. “You put too much creamer in your coffee.”

“That’s a cop out answer.”

“Nope. It’s my honest to God answer, love. That is the weirdest thing about you.”

“The weirdest thing about you is the fact that you organize your t-shirts by year that you got them instead of color or putting your favorites up front.”

“I don’t believe I asked for your opinion on that.”

“No,” Emma shrugs, squeezing his calf where she can see the muscles twitching, “you didn’t, but I thought I’d give you my opinion anyways since you’re not being honest with me about what you find weird about me.”

Killian rolls his eyes before falling back down to the mattress, strands of hair falling over his forehead. “You have too many blankets. It’s not…I mean, you do a million little things that are different or quirky, but I don’t find any of them weird. Not really. But you collect a hell of a lot of blankets. You’ve probably spent thousands of dollars on them. I swear, you’ve brought a different blanket on every road trip we’ve had this year.”

“That is not weird.”

“Neither is my t-shirt thing.”

“Agree to disagree,” she sighs, pulling a pillow behind her back so that she’s not hunching over. “And you have never complained about having use of one of my blankets before.”

“Nor you my t-shirts.”

“This is true.” Emma keeps working at Killian’s calf, feeling the muscled skin under her fingertips, and she figures now might be the time to talk to him about Ruth. It’s not like he can run away. Well, he could, but she could probably run faster than him now. “So, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Killian’s body stiffens. “And you saved it for when I can’t run away?”

Great minds think alike.

“Yes, because I knew you were going to cramp while we were making out.”

She rolls her eyes but still smiles at the way Killian’s forehead is wrinkled with the raise of his brows. His face can hold so many different expressions – from soft to broody and from sexy to amused – and she likes that he often gives away what’s going on in his mind through them, even if he doesn’t always.

“You are evil like that.”

“I know,” Emma shrugs before putting a little more pressure on Killian’s calf so that he groans. Definitely a different groan than what was happening before. “So, Ruth texting me today and asked if when I wanted to come visit. She’s been on me about it for a few months now even with her coming here, but I probably should go home when the season is over. And I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

They’re simple words, but the weight behind them makes Emma feel like she’s just been run over by a truck.

She’s absolutely great at being an adult.

The best.

Her heart is probably going to implode.

“Well,” Killian sighs, propping himself up on his elbows again, “I’d have to check my calendar. You know, I am a very popular man, and many women ask me to go home with them to meet their mothers. I have to make sure that I’m not scheduled to do that with someone else.”

“Asshole,” Emma huffs as she slaps Killian’s leg and pushes it off of her lap so that she can get off the bed. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’m feeling a little bit of de ja vu with you calling me that.”

“You deserve it.”

“Hey,” he sighs, stretching across the bed to grab at the bottom of her t-shirt until he pulls her back down onto the bed with him so that she roughly lands on the mattress and against Killian’s knee. It’s not exactly comfortable, but Killian shifts and caresses her cheeks with his hands, pushing her hair back while he looks at her. “I’m kidding. I would love to get to go to Portland with you to meet Ruth. I really do have to check my schedule, especially with how we do in the post-season, but I’m more than happy to go with you and get to hear all kinds of stories about you as a teenager.”

“Yeah, you’re not allowed to ask for any stories when we go.”

“I’m one hundred percent asking for stories.”

“No. You can’t do that because – ”

Killian doesn’t let her finish her protest, pulling her forward to press his lips into hers, a soft yet insistent thing that has her forgetting her argument. He’s good at that. Probably too good, but that’s definitely something she’ll address at another time.

A time when he’s not doing that thing with his tongue and his teeth that she likes so much.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emma stops, possibly against her better judgement, and Killian pulls back only to bury his face in her shoulder.

“W-what?”

“My leg is cramping.”

Killian groans into her neck before wrapping his arms around Emma’s waist and pulling her down alongside him so that they’re a tangle of limbs that very well may never be unwrapped. She wouldn’t mind that either, not if she can stay in the dim light of her bedroom with Killian holding onto her and looking at her like she put the stars in the sky and tells them to glow every night.

No one has ever looked at her that way before.

Ever.

She’s really damn happy.

“I love you,” Killian breathes out, and her heart metaphorically skips a beat while she reaches for his chain between them so that she can run the metal between her fingers. “More than anything, I think.”

Well damn. Who knew three little words added to those big three words could completely change the meaning of it all? Or, at least, amplify them.

“I love you too, twenty-nine.”

Killian shifts again, pressing his back into her and pulling her closer, as if that was possible, and she can feel the scruff on the underside of his chin pressing into her temple while he intertwines their fingers and moves their joined hands to rest between her breasts.

“I’m serious, Emma. I know…” Killian takes a deep breath, one that she can feel in her own bones, and she has to swallow down the emotion that she feels at just the gravely sound of his voice. “Thank you for trusting me enough to take this shot with me. I haven’t been this happy in a long time, and I kind of thought that I’d reached the pinnacle of happiness last year when we won.”

“I mean, you did win the World Series,” she says, trying to play off some of the emotions she’s feeling. “What could be better than that?”

“Don’t you know, Emma?” Killian speaks into her hair, pressing a kiss there that has her lashes fluttering closed against her cheeks. “It’s you.”

[stcrmybastard]

✦ ▓ AND WHO GOES THERE? oh, it’s just [ EDRIC STORM ]. some say [ HIS ] resemblance to [ TOMMY MARTINEZ ] is almost uncanny, but the [ TWENTY-SIX ] year old has been in the capital for [ HIS ENTIRE LIFE ]. many suspect that they are the notorious [ ASSOCIATE ] of the [ BARATHEON ] family: perhaps that has made them [ COMPETITIVE ] && [ DEFIANT ] of late, when they used to be so [ AFFABLE ] && [ CAREFREE ]. during the daylight hours, [ EDRIC ] can be found working as a [ CAR RESTORER ], but when night falls over king’s landing, they are best remembered listening to [ WRONG MAN BY MATT CORBY ]. may the gods be with them in these dark streets. 

H I S T O R Y ;

Growing up with the knowledge that neither of your parents want you is to be born with a chip on your shoulder.  A chip that despite all the attempts of sanding away by the hands of Renly and Stannis, still blemishes the marbled statue of Edric to this day.  

Edric was born out of a night of wine and lust between his father Robert Baratheon and mother Delena Florent.  Robert was married, Delena engaged.  Robert’s relationship with his wife was already fractured beyond repair, but she refused to have the living, breathing reminder of his constant habit of straying in her house.  And Delena, just on the verge of her own happy ending, soon to be married to a Norcross, didn’t want to constantly remind Hosman of the mistake he had only barely forgiven her for.  If not for Stannis and his utter loyalty to blood, Edric would have most likely ended up in the system, a boy to be passed around from foster family to foster family until eventually aging out.   Often times Edric finds himself wondering what his life would have been like, if Stannis hadn’t been such a staunchly honorable man.

But those thoughts, and the feelings that come with them are quickly crushed when he remembers on the way he did end up growing up.  Stannis was the closest thing to a father figure, and despite Renly’s constant degradation of the man and his personality, Edric always has and will appreciate what he did for him.  Sure, he may not be the most fun person to be around, nor was he one to hand out hugs and read bed time stories to the boys, but he did what he had to do to keep things going, and that’s what counts.

Edric also had Renly.  He always feels odd calling the man ‘my uncle, Renly’, as the man has always been more like a brother to him than anything else.  The two only 6 years apart, kept them close.  Of course, when Renly was a teenager and Edric still a child the two drifted, but Renly was still always around to provide the love and care that Stannis simply could not.  But as the two grew older, and Renly began to join the ranks of the family ‘business’ as the Baratheon name (a name Edric refused to use, despite being told it was his right if he so chose), and Edric turned down one of his own, the two remained close.  To this day, Renly is the only person Edric would do anything for.

As a teenager, he often tried to go out of his way to soil his father’s name: getting arrested, kicked out of the schools he was sent to, setting up illegal street races (okay, fine, he still does this, but now it’s only because he has a taste for speed), but he realized that his refusal of the Baratheon name also meant that his actions simply fell on deaf ears.  His actions were those of a bastard.

But as Edric has grown, the chip on his shoulder has as well, turning into fractures that run towards his heart.  Despite his love for Renly and appreciation for Stannis, he hates the Baratheon name, namely due to his father wearing it.  He may be an associate for the Baratheon family, passing along secrets he hears and helping when needed, but he does that only for Renly and Stannis, and not for the benefit of the Baratheon name. 

For the most part, Edric stays out of the family business by choice.  His hands aren’t clean by any means, but the stains on them tend to be grease rather than blood.  Mostly.  His garage is his so-called safe space, a space that is for the most part free of politics.  Of course he services members of other syndicates, restoring or finding beautiful vintage cars for them to have as status symbols.  And yes, if he hears anything that can be passed along to Renly, he does so.  Sure, once or twice he’s been asked to slip something illegal into a car only to be ‘found’ a week later by the cops.  But for the most part, the garage is exactly what it looks like.

P E R S O N A L I T Y ;

There is only one person that can tell Edric what to do, and that’s Stannis, which is borne purely out of respect for the man.  But, even then his sway only reaches so far, as now that Edric’s full grown, he has his own ideas on things.  Renly can ask things of Edric and he’ll most likely do them, but mostly because the man knows Edric, and knows if he were to attempt to ‘command’ him to do anything, it would result in that task not only not being done, but with Edric probably going out of his way to do the opposite.  To say that Edric has an issue with authority probably would be an understatement.  It stems both from an inherent need to piss off his father, and from a fairly young age being able to do whatever he wanted.  He was fortunate to be a boat on the rising tide of the name Baratheon, but he was not tied to them the same way Renly or Stannis were, he had choices on what he wanted to become or do.  

But even with this rebellious, defiant streak in the man, he is an easy going guy.  He may not carry the love of excess like some other members of his family have, but he does love to have fun.  That could be hanging out at the Red Keep with beers in hand, or racing his growing collection of vintage cars, or doing any number of things.  But overall he is fairly easy to get along with.  His lack of involvement in syndicate politics allows him to socialize with whoever he chooses, loving or hating them not for their loyalties but for who they are. 

But overall he is a romantic and has an addictive personality, and has a tendency to fall fast and hard for people who usually aren’t the best for him.  He craves a life of deep meaning, and tends to fall for artistic, poetic types.  He wants to be the muser and the muse, he wants to know what consumes people, wants to be consumed himself. 

W A N T E D  C O N N E C T I O N S ; 

OLD FRIENDS/RIDE OR DIE; The first half or so decade of his life was during a time when Baratheon didn’t mean much to anyone, and the friends he made during this time would have been those of the playground variety, but would have also been completely true.  I would love for him to have a friend that, 20 years later is still a staple in his life.  Due to his overall lack of participation in the syndicate, this person could be from any family or a civilian.

PAST LOVES; As mentioned previously, Edric tends to specialize in passionate, destructive type romances.  The type where you’re so deep in it, you didn’t realize that you were drowning in it until you’ve gotten out.  We can plot how it started, ended, etc.  Open to any one of any/all genders and from any family or a civilian.

LOVERS TO FRIENDS; Would love a friendship that was perhaps one of romance first, and while we could go casual romance to friends, I think a deep, true love that had to end but the two still wanted the other in their life, even as friends would be *chef’s kiss*.  Because I mean, c’mon who knows you better than a person you loved like that?  And have that innate sense of what you need in that moment?  Beer?  A good cry?  Ugh.    Open to any one of any/all genders and from any family or a civilian.

HOOKUPS; While he may be the type to fall fast, not every romantic interaction leads to love.  What’s on the tin, past or current hookups, can be friends with benefits, enemies with benefits, don’t talk other than to hookup, or even just casual non-monogamous dating.

ENEMIES; Edric is a very easy guy to get along with, doesn’t pay attention to family lines, and generally doesn’t like conflict because it ruins the vibe (VIBE CHECK!!), so something would have had to go seriously wrong between these two for Edric to consider them an enemy.  Open to any and all.

CUSTOMERS; A fairly nondescript and easy going connection, just a way to have them know each other, simply someone who is also a lover of vintage cars, just like Edric, and has bought some of his restored cars, or had him restore one of their own.  

NEW FRIENDS; Edric makes new friends all the time, both with his business, outgoing nature, and tendency to end up at all sorts of establishments (no matter who owns them), so if you’re looking for some casual friendship, here you go.

READY SET GO; His defiant streak may have ended (well, mostly), but some things stuck around, and racing was one of them.  He got a taste of speed and became addicted.  As often as he can, Edric organizes and partakes in some street racing, where there’s betting, drinks, drifting, and a whole lot of showing off.  Your character could be a fellow racer or just someone who enjoys going to the races.

[wxyvision]

Dear First Love {4/4}

Genre: angst, fluff

Word count: 4,275

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Dear first love,

Things have been very lonely recently, to tell you the truth. I spoke to Mark briefly and he told me he needs some time to get his thoughts together but he promised he wouldn't let this ruin our friendship. I hope that's true. I miss him so much but I'll give him as much time as he needs. I miss you, too. Lately I've been keeping to myself because I can't face you just yet. Not yet. When did everything get so complicated? I wish things were the way they were before all of this. "Happy" New Year's my ass. This year is already much worse than the last, and we're only in February right now. I wonder how you've been, though. I keep seeing the boys and wanting to ask but I don't want to risk making my feelings known. Not even to them. I don't even know why I'm so upset, it's not like you're mine, is it? I'm not mad because you can kiss whoever you want, I just… I selfishly wish it was me instead. I wish for so many things but that won't change anything, will it? Well, surprisingly I received a Valentine's Day card this year. I can't remember the last time that happened. I wondered if it was Mark at first but I'm not sure he would send one considering what happened at the party… A part of me wishes that it was you, but I doubt that it was. You're far too good for me, chicken wing. This is all so confusing. Who sent it? Why? I just miss you, I miss Mark, I miss the boys. Should I just pretend that the party never happened? I could try, if it meant that I could spend time with you again. Perhaps all of these assignments will keep me busy from thinking of you too much. Who am I kidding? I don't think anything could keep me from thinking of you. That's just how precious you are to me, first love.

Little dumpling

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Dear first love,

I think you’d like to know that I spoke briefly to Mark a couple of weeks ago. Things are still awkward between us but at least things are better than they were a couple of months ago. I’m sure it’s just a small crush, it’s nothing major, right? I really hope so. I also haven’t seen you much recently, and even when I have seen you, we haven’t really spoken. Perhaps you're bored of me or annoyed by now and that’s why you haven’t greeted me lately. Or perhaps you know about how I feel, and this is your way of rejecting me. But you didn’t see me react to your kiss, right? At least I don’t think you did. Sometimes I think that you’re fed up of me by now, but that might be the fever talking... You may have heard from Guanheng that I’ve been sick a lot recently. That’s made everything worse, I think. Lying in bed all day, no distraction from thinking about the situation between you and I. Well, that makes it sound like there is anything between us.. which would never happen, would it? I think I’ve started to accept that now. Anyway, that’s enough of me rambling on about myself. How have you been doing lately? I heard that you also got sick. Are you alright now? I hope you ate well and slept a lot! I’m sure you probably heard all of that from papa Kun, though. Of course, I can’t hear or read your answer because you’re not reading this, but these are just some of the things I want to say to you. I wish things weren’t so complicated recently :(

Little dumpling

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Dear first love,

We'll be graduating in a few weeks. Isn't it scary to think that we're about to leave this place behind? All of the friends that we've made, the routine that we've gotten used to over the years. I don't want to leave it behind. These past few years have been the best few years of my life. I hate to sound so sentimental but you and the boys have really changed my life. Before, I only had a few friends who I wasn't even that close to. I never really want to parties, and I didn't really want to. I was happy being at the back of the room. But then you guys walked in to my life and I felt like I had another family. I know things haven't always been easy between all of us. There have been little arguments amongst.. other dilemmas, but we've always stuck together. You don't find many friends like that outside of here. I really wish we can all just stay together but I know that some of us, including you, will be going back home. I might never see your face again, my first love. But maybe things will be okay without you. Of course, I'll always wish that we weren't separated, but life always goes on, doesn't it? I'll miss you so much. You'll never realise how precious you are to me, as a friend and as my crush. I hope that someone as kind and sweet as you will find happiness wherever you go. I hope good fortune follows you back to China and continues to follow your every footstep. I really want you to know all of these things, even if I can't find the strength to say even half of them to you in person. I want you to have all of these memories of our time together, even if they mean little to you now. If we meet again, I know I wouldn't be able to look at you because you would know how I feel for you, but I would be happy to see you living well. Because I wish for you to be able to read all of these letters, I have decided that I will give them to you. If you're reading these now, then that means you found the package I left for you, and that also means you cared enough to read until the end. Please live happily and without regrets and always be happy <3

Little dumpling

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3 years later...

Beep beep!

My eyes flickered over to my phone, who buzzed beside me, alerting me of a new message. I groaned, realising that it was probably my boss asking me to do extra shifts again. As if I didn't work enough already. I sighed and picked up my phone to see what the text said, only to be proven wrong. Mark. Well that's a name I haven't heard in a while. My mind took me back to the good old times, like helping him study for a test by buying him coffee and waking him up when he starting dozing off every two minutes. He passed. And the time he forgot to buy his mum a present and panic called me asking me to come with him to pick one out because he didn't want to go alone. We were always close. And I thought that we always would be. Smiling sadly to myself, I read the text aloud in a whisper.

From: Mork 😎

Hey. I know we haven't spoken in a while. I'm really sorry about that. You know I still care; I always did and always will. I miss you, sidekick, I miss you so much. I hate myself for throwing away our friendship over a silly little crush, I was an idiot. I'll understand if you don't want to talk, especially as I haven't said a word to you in three years and now I'm basically writing you an essay saying sorry for being the dumbest boy on the face of the planet. Will you forgive me? And will you also forgive me for asking if you wanna come to the new year's reunion party? The boys will be there… xx

A smile found its way onto my face whilst reading his text. So he did care, after all. I should have been mad at him. Mad at him for ignoring me for three years. Mad at him for pretending I didn't exist whenever we bumped into each other. But I wasn't. I couldn't be, not when it came to Mark. And the promise of seeing the other boys only fuelled my excitement. I was finally ready to see them after living the past three years of my life in a brand-new city with a brand-new job and brand-new friends. No friend group could ever compare to the boys, and I think I always knew that they would never, even before I graduated. I wiped away a tear I didn't realise had slipped out and typed a short, but meaningful and poetic response.

To: Mork 😎

I missed you too, nerd.

I grinned to myself. Everything he needed to know was in that text. Yes, I forgave him. Yes, I missed him too. No, I wasn't mad at him. Yes, I would come to the party. Yes, he was a class a idiot.

And the gang was coming back together.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I stood in the middle of the room with a glass of juice in my hand, chewing my lip. I was so nervous and excited to see everyone again. I wondered how much they had changed since I last saw them. Would they even recognise me? Would I even recognise them? These worries washed away the moment I heard my name be called. I looked up and was unable to hold back a grin. “Guanheng! Mark! Oldie!” I cheered. Kun groaned and rolled his eyes, but I could see a smile tugging on his lips as he pulled me in for a hug. This was home, these people had always felt like a second family to me. It felt just like old times, except everyone was slightly older and (mostly) wiser. I suddenly frowned, turning to Guanheng. “Wait.. you guys came back? Just for this?” He and Kun nodded, telling me about their plans to potentially move here for good. Not only so that they would be closer to us, but also because they both had work lined up here for them, and the work was apparently pretty decent. I suddenly felt excitement rush through me at the thought of regularly hanging out with them just like before.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. “A certain someone also came back.” I heard a familiar voice add. I instantly recognised the voice as Johnny's. I spun around to hug him tightly, too. I had missed that tall idiot. I tried to figure out in my head who he was referring to, when I laid eyes on him.

He was here. Now I suddenly felt nervous. Why was I nervous? I had moved on with my life and now all of our moments were just fond memories. But I couldn’t ignore the way the sight of him made my heart race, just as it did the day we met. I suddenly felt incredibly aware of the ugly sweater I was wearing, which I had bought as a joke. I knew that the boys would appreciate it, but now it just made me feel stupid in front of the man that had captured my heart. But I didn’t have those feelings for him anymore, right? "Sicheng?" My mouth hung open and I was frozen to the spot. I wasn't expecting him to be here, especially since the last I'd heard of him, he had moved back to China and was staying there. He grinned at me and suddenly I was very confused. "I missed you, my little dumpling." He said softly. My cheeks heated up, realising that he had read my letters and now he knew exactly how I felt about him. How I still feel about him. Now I realised that despite my head telling me that I was over him, I would never be. The way I felt towards him would never fade, and perhaps I didn't want it to. "I- you- I thought you- China?" I breathed out, making him chuckle.

"I stayed there for a while, but there was just something missing, and I wasn't quite sure what it was. That's the reason I came back here. And now, well I just found out what was missing, so I guess I'm staying here for good." Sicheng moved towards me and wrapped me in his arms. I let my eyes flutter shut as I enjoyed the feeling I always longed for. "I enjoyed your letters, by the way dumpling. I wasn't surprised, though." I pulled back, blinking rapidly.

"You.. you knew that I liked you? All along?" I suddenly felt stupidly self-conscious.

He shrugged, smiling at the ground and then looking back up at me. "I had a hunch, but I wasn't completely sure if I was right." I stared at him, dumbfounded. I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that confession, so I let the silence fall over us. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"Instead of writing letters back, I decided that if and when we met again, I would say this all in person in case I don't get another chance. So here it goes." He took a deep breath before looking into my eyes. "When we first met, you tried speaking Chinese to me. I was excited because apart from the other Chinese students, I couldn't really speak to anyone much because my Korean wasn't as good then. I thought you were absolutely adorable because your eyebrows were all like this," He scrunched his face up, imitating me. "And it seemed like you were trying really hard. I could tell that you were a kind-hearted person just from that one small action." Sicheng smiled fondly, letting his eyes fall shut for a few moments before continuing. "Our kiss... I won’t lie, it was strange for me. I hadn't even thought of you in that way before. Until then I had only thought of you as a cute friend who I wanted to look out for. Admittedly it felt a bit awkward for me, but I didn't want to pull away for some reason." His cheeks turned a light pink and he scratched the back of his neck, avoiding my gaze. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. He turned his head away from me, taking a sip of his drink before looking back at me. I was still dumbfounded, trying to somehow digest what he was telling me. What did he mean by all of this? Was this a rejection? It would certainly be a belated rejection if it was.

Sicheng placed one of his hands on my back, guiding me away from where our friends were crowded, too busy in conversation to realise that we were no longer standing nearby.

"Do you remember when we were at the football match together? Spending time together like that felt really good. I actually wanted to give you a hug then. I had it all planned out, I would ask you if you were cold and then hug you to warm you up, but then I got shy and didn't do it. I was kicking myself for the rest of the night calling myself an idiot for not having the guts to hug you. It wasn’t as if I was proposing to you or anything.” He face palmed, and I let out a laugh. If only I had known that he wanted to hug me, I would have given him a hug myself. All that time I spent wondering if he would be weirded out or push me away if I had tried to hug him, and he was wanting the exact same thing the whole time. "And I was so mad that I couldn't be there to watch your performance. I made sure I had enough storage on my phone to take pictures and videos of you, but then I got a call to say that rehearsals had been rescheduled to that night. I was tempted to curse them out but I hoped maybe I'd have another chance to see you perform." Sadly, he didn’t get another chance to see me perform, because after that I only worked backstage, although he did come and see that performance, which did make me feel a sense of pride. "When me and Mark walked you home, I was super nervous. Nervous because I wanted to be alone with you, but he was there. If I'm honest, I noticed you smiling at me a lot and it only made my hands even more sweaty." Wait what? He was nervous? Around me? If only Mark hadn’t have been there, not that I didn’t want him there of course. I stayed silent, still unsure of how to respond, and still trying to process what was going on. Sicheng was rambling on about his side of the story and how he felt about the memories I wrote about in my letters and he looked as adorable ever with his cheeks flushed and a grin on his face.

"You remember when I asked you to come to my party? My smile was because of you, and the thought of you being there at my party. I guess that's the point where I first realised that I might have feelings for you, but I wasn't quite sure yet." My eyes widened. Feelings? He had feelings for me too? Oh wow, I really was dumb, wasn’t I? No wonder we never got together. Still, hearing that his smile was caused by my presence filled me with happiness. "And at the party, you kept looking at me in a way that made me suspect that you were dressing up for me, but I didn't want to assume in case I was wrong." Oh, this was embarrassing. He pretty much knew that I had put more effort into my outfit just for him and I was staring at him enough for him to catch on to my feelings. If I didn’t already want the ground to open up and swallow me whole, I definitely did after hearing that. Sicheng chuckled, guiding me even further away from the group. "How could I forget our little cooking show? I was waiting for episode two but it never came." He shook his head, glancing at me to see my reaction. I smiled fondly to myself. I definitely wouldn’t have minded an episode two. "I loved joking around with you and hearing you laugh. That's one of our memories that I treasure the most because it was just us two, and it felt so natural. I can't believe I still didn't realise I liked you." Perhaps I wasn’t the only idiot between the two of us. That sounded a lot like someone who had a major crush on someone to me. He looked back at our friends, watching them enjoying each other’s company. It looked like they had started having their own mini dance battle. Me and Sicheng watched the others for a few moments before he turned to look back at me. "If you wanted to, we could have another dance lesson. I enjoyed it a lot last time. I actually felt pretty proud hearing that you wanted me, of all people, to teach you. Your dancing was the most adorable thing I've ever seen. You know, I wanted to hold you because you made my heart race so fast. As for the food... I brought it with me because I knew that you would forget to bring snacks, and also because I wanted to show you how good of a boyfriend I would be." He grinned shyly. "And how dare you assume that you didn't make me fall for you! You were making me suffer from how cute you we're being!!" My heart was melting faster than an ice cream on a hot summer’s day by now. My face was so hot that anyone who didn’t know what we were talking about would have thought I had a fever.

"I don't think I'll ever be a dancer, though." I joked, covering my mouth with my free hand. Sicheng took my hand and moved it away from my mouth, eyes flickering to my smile which I disliked with a passion. He shrugged, telling me that practice makes perfect.

"I'll never forget our date at the zoo, either." Maybe it was a bad idea to take a sip of my drink as he said that, because now I was almost choking on my drink. He had said the word ‘date’ about me and him. He considered it a date. "Even though I didn't say anything, that's how I thought of it, as a date. I still have those photos of us, by the way. I had one of them as my lock screen for a long time, and if ever I was sad, I only had to look at the picture to smile." The thought of a picture of me and him being his lock screen made my heart flutter. Wasn't that the kind of thing that couples usually did? Sicheng pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed me the picture. I was leaning into him and his arm was placed loosely around me, not quite touching me. I had managed to convince him to wear a headband with tiger ears on it, which was the cutest thing ever. "At the Christmas party, I was secretly wishing that we'd get caught under some mistletoe so that I had an excuse to kiss you. I kept having those thoughts and that was something completely new to me. I'd never wanted to kiss someone so bad before. And your little Christmas sweater.. that sweater looked so good on you; did you not realise how nervous I was around you?" I shook my head, still refusing to believe the words coming out of his mouth. We were almost outside now, only a few steps from standing out on Johnny's balcony. My heart was still pounding so loud that I was afraid of Sicheng being able to hear it.

His smile fell, his eyebrows scrunching up tightly. "I had no idea you saw that kiss. I saw yours. It was only whilst reading your letters that I realised that I was in the exact same boat as you. Both of us saw the other person kissing someone else and assumed that they didn't have feelings for us. And both of us were kissed by someone who we didn't have feelings for." He chewed his lip, then shook his head, letting out a small laugh. "I was really worried that you didn't like me anymore. I would have been happy for you and Mark, though." He glanced at me, and then back at Mark, who was giggling hysterically at something and clapping his hands together. I had never quite seen him that way, so the idea felt strange to me, but I could also understand his thinking. "What about Valentine's Day? Did you wonder who that card was from? I can't believe you didn't recognise my handwriting." My mouth fell open. Him?? He sensed my surprise and bit his lip. "Yeah, I wrote it, but I never sent it."

I furrowed my eyebrows. I was confused. What did he mean he didn't send it? How did it end up in my possession? "Some of the boys knew that I liked you, so it must have been one of them. I wasn't going to send it because I still thought you and Mark were a thing, but I was tempted to do it anyway." We were standing outside on the balcony now, the small breeze making his hair flutter just as much as he was making my heart flutter. Not only was I incredibly close to him, but he was also telling me that he had a crush on me back then. The possibility of him still feeling that way now made my head spin.

"I regret the last few months before graduation. I really should have handled it better. I felt bad because you seemed to be ignoring me and then I was worried that for whatever reason you didn't like me anymore. And then I read your letter and I realised that I might just be the most stupid man on the planet. This is me saying sorry for acting so stupidly, and to say sorry for not confessing to you even though I had a feeling that you felt the same." I opened my mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a loud noise coming from inside Johnny’s house.

"Five!" People inside cheered. Sicheng turned to look at me with a smitten grin on his face. "Four!" I chewed my lip, wondering if he had the same thoughts as me. "Three!" He moved closer to me, eyes locked on mine. I couldn't look away from him. "Two!" His hands were now cupping my cheeks and my heart was doing backflips and loop-de-loops. "One!" I barely heard the cheering. All I could focus on was the fact that Sicheng had just kissed me. The winter breeze outside was bitter, but the heat rising to my cheeks kept me warm. I kissed him back, feeling him grin against my mouth. I wrapped my arms around his torso, pulling him even closer to me. Fireworks were going off all around us, and suddenly I didn't despise New Year celebrations anymore.

[samclownchester]

Season 15 thoughts so far

Ok guys, I don’t usually write Meta stuff but these are some of my thoughts after watching the first few episodes of season 15:

Episodes 4 and 5 of season 15 of Supernatural are extremely interesting. Although they are both more or less “filler” material, they play an important part in establishing the direction the show is going now, specifically away from the initial plan.

Chuck, the writer, who is now unarguably the villain of the story, goes to Becky, the “ultimate Supernatural fangirl” for advice. She is now much more stable and happy, and writes AU fanfics about the Supernatural Characters doing menial, everyday things. She wants to see the boys happy. She likes to imagine them at peace. Chuck on the other hand argues that people want monsters. People want drama. He writes an ending for the brothers in which one of them dies, and he is convinced this is the best ending. Becky, like all of us fans, yells that he can’t do that. That it has no hope.

The writers initially planned for one brother to kill the other. It’s been in the show from the beginning, the struggle between brothers, the parallels of Michael and Lucifer, the not-so-subtle parallel characters that the brother meet in a lot of the filler episodes. One sibling killing the other. Out of necessity. Out of mercy. Cain says it plainly to Dean while he has the mark. It’s a concept that is woven into the fabric of the show so tightly, to end without it would honestly be … anticlimactic. It would ruin the poetic drama that fuels the show.

But, we’ve already kind of seen that ending. Season 5 ended with Sam dead. Although Dean didn’t deliver the final blow, Sam died to save the world. And then life continued. We saw them go through multiple character arcs and their relationship to each other, as well as to those around them, got much more complex. They became more than symbolic plot devices.

That’s why the plot of 15x05 feels kinda … stale. It feels forced. It’s supposed to. They meet two brothers who love each other, but one has “gone off the deep end.” And the other finds himself forced to kill him. This is the kind of thing Sam and Dean dealt with all throughout the first few seasons. We haven’t really seen a parallel of them in this way for a long time (season 14 parallels were more benign and less on the nose). Chuck is writing for the earlier seasons. Chuck is writing for a show that doesn’t exist anymore. A show where Dean is easily distracted by a pretty face, a show without Cas, a show where the brothers would even consider killing one another.

But the show has evolved from there. In large part thanks to the fans. Cas wasn’t supposed to become a regular. He was supposed to be like many of the other characters – he’s there for a few seasons, is changed by his interaction with the Winchesters, and then probably killed. But the fans loved him so much, he stayed. ("It was a gradual evolution for me," Collins recalled. "It wasn't just I went from guest star to series regular immediately. It was like three episodes -- 'Alright, we'll give you six,' -- 'Alright we'll give you 10,' – 'Alright we'll give you 12.' … "Supernatural said they didn't want to see me anymore and then we got back together again," he said. So in season seven they were like, 'I think we're killing you,' and then they were like, 'Eh… We changed our minds. We're not killing you -- come back. Let's try this again.'"" https://www.etonline.com/tv/163280_from_guest_star_to_fan_favorite_how_misha_collins_eventually_married_supernatural)

(again, mentioning episode parallels. The Halloween episode of season 14 had a group of 3 friends to parallel the main characters. Even though Cas wasn’t in that episode, it was clear he is crucial to the dynamic of the show)

So, these episodes are really a genius move on the writers part. It allows closure for the initial plan, that one brother will kill the other, it acknowledges that it was the plan, and that they’ve been weaving that story. But it also shows that the writers understand it’s not what the viewers want. It’s not what the characters deserve. We would rather see a story about them doing laundry and being happy. Season 14 showed that the writers understand this, when they included little things like mentioning that they have movie nights on Tuesdays and Winchester Family Game night. They know we want them to retire, together. And, by introducing that conversation with Chuck and Becky, and having Chuck orchestrate a clunky, awkward hunting episode, they show us that the original ending might change.

To add to the genius, in 15x06 Cas chooses to go by the name Clarence Worley. Clarence at fist seems like a call back to the nick name his demon girlfriend Meg had for him, but as tumblr user @7fairielights posted, Clarence Worley is the name of a character in True Romance. Apparently, the original script had Clarence dying, but then Tony Scott tore up that script and wrote another where Clarence lived.

This is significant both because Castiel was supposed to die, or not even supposed to be that important of a character, but his story got rewritten. It also seems to foreshadow that the ending of this show, where one of the brothers die, will be torn up and rewritten.

In 15x07 We get the good old supernatural foreshadowing, but this time it’s less obvious and clunky. At first, I thought Lee was kind of a stand-in for Cas. Almost like, Dean is going through a rough break up and reunites with his ex. But Lee knew John Winchester, they knew each other when Dean was young. Just that little connection makes him feel more like a brother stand-in. Dean even says the last time they saw each other was when Sam was in college. When Dean didn’t have his brother, Lee was the person he hunted with. Even his hair is like Sam’s. Lee was his temporary brother. But when Dean realizes what Lee has been doing he tells him “I kill monsters,” because he has come to the conclusion that Lee is a monster and deserves to die. What makes this different from any of the times that Sam or Dean have been the “monster” is that Lee was killing people purely for personal gain. He hadn’t been cursed or lost his soul or anything, he was choosing, of his own free will, to kidnap and kill people and feed them to his pet monster so he could get rich. Because of that, Dean felt justified in killing him. If he had been doing it to stay alive, or to save someone, maybe Dean would have found a way to help redeem him, but as it was, Lee was very killable.

But, Dean now knows that Chuck likes to use foreshadowing, and he said before that he doesn’t know what is Chuck and what isn’t. The expression he makes after killing Lee, in my opinion, shows that Dean is wondering if this was somehow part of Chuck’s plan. He is fully aware that Chuck wants him to kill his brother. Having just killed someone who used to be like his brother, he knows that this just adds to the drama of the story Chuck is writing.

In 15x09 once again we see that the writers are shifting the focus of the show away from what Chuck thinks makes it interesting. When Dean and Cas are in purgatory, they’re attacked by Leviathans. Rather than showing us an epic fight scene with scary monsters that are “all teeth,” the action is totally skipped. What we do see is Dean saying a heartfelt prayer to Cas, forgiving him and asking for his forgiveness. Cas fights the Leviathans completely off screen. 

Now, this could partially be to save time and money. These episodes are starting to be crammed with things (like they’re rushing to say everything before the end) but it still is significant that the writers chose to prioritize the emotional arc rather than the monster. Especially since Leviathans are the monster Chuck specifically mentioned in 15x04. We are not watching the show Chuck wants to write. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have missed the monster action. 

Also, I find it very telling that in all the future scenes Chuck showed Sam, Jack was no where to be seen. Chuck says he’s just the messenger, that he’s not creating the future, that this is what will happen if he gets locked up, but we now know that it can’t have been an accurate future, because Jack wasn’t in it. 

(Also I just have to say nothing has invoked such pure despair in me as much as just the thought of Dean needing to lock an insane Cas in a Malick box. Kudos to whoever wrote that and to Jensen for the way he delivered the line because that was the most horrific thing about that future to me. Broke my heart. )

anyway, in conclusion, the writers know we want a happy ending, and they are cleverly reweaving the fabric of the show in order to give us a satisfying one. Cas and Jack are the keys to that, because they weren’t a part of the “original” plan but they are irrevocably a part of the Winchester family now. (If I am wrong about this I will ... probably die. but we’ll have to wait for autumn to find out.)